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lena-in-a-red-dress · 1 year

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Lena's Mercy (another black mercy fic)

Warning: mentions of suicide

Lena is tired.

She has been ever since the shock has worn off. Receiving her diagnosis on the tail end of discovering her life has been just one lie after another had been unexpected. But the blessing is that it will be swift.

She can already feel it-- the fatigue that wraps around her bones and weighs her down, the lingering cough that now brings up speckles of blood. Pounds shed from her by the day, and every time she looks in the mirror the heavy circles under her eyes grow darker. She's been able to hide it thus far, but it won't be long before even that will be beyond her. There's nothing she can do to halt the disease working its way through her system-- not in the little time she has left.

So Lena finds herself going to the last place she ever thought she'd go.

Lex's bunker greets her as coldly as her mother. Her footsteps echo as she strides towards the solitary scanner console. A dozen pricks across her palm and the console beeps, and the floor before her lifts with a hiss.

When the gate slides open to admit her, Lena walks straight past the warhammer, Lex's suit of kryptonite.

She draws to a stop in front of a clear containment case, and the sight of its occupant sends a flood of relief through Lena's exhausted body. The black mercy within coils and shifts, as though sensing her desperation, her readiness.

There's no other itemd here that tempts her: she has no intention of harming Supergirl. Lena's anger has faded in the face of her new fate-- it's meaningless, in the grand scheme-- but a small part of can't deny that she relishes the devastation she knows her former friend will feel upon realizing Lena is gone without the chance to say goodbye.

As though summoned by Lena's thoughts, just as her hand reaches for the latch of the containment device, a whoosh of displaced air announces Supergirl's arrival.

"What are you doing here?"

Kara's voice is sharp and authoritative, riling for a fight until she sees exactly where Lena's attention lies. Then, more gently, fearfully even-- "what are you doing?"

"Exactly what it looks like."

"Lena, no, you don't understand-- it may conjure a fantasy, but only so that it can drain the life from you..."

Lena exhales. That's exactly what she's hoping for, but for a different reason than the conclusion Kara jumps to a moment later.

"Please don't do this," the hero blurts in a rush, eyes brimming with tears. "Please, I'm sorry, okay? I'm so, so sorry. I'll say it every day until you believe me, just please-- don't do this."

Unable to muster the effort to keep herself from doing so, the corner of her mouth lifts into the tiniest, softest of smirks.

"One of these days, Supergirl," she says softly, "you'll realize that this world doesn't revolve around you."

Silence drifts between them, stale and thin. Lena feels the hero's gaze on her, studying. Can her x-ray vision spot the disease inside her?

"Lena," Kara says slowly. "What's going on?"

Then, as she continues to piece through the puzzle--

"You're sick."

Lena says nothing.

"This isn't the answer," Kara continues. She takes a step towards her, entering the vault proper.

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Suicide? No! I refuse to accept this is your only option. We can get you through this--!"

"There is no we," Lena snaps. She glares at her former friend, finally deigning to meet her gaze. "You have yourself to thank for that."

But just as swiftly, the irritation dissipates.

"Do you know what my fantasy will look like?" she asks softly.

She hears Kara inhale, an argument catching on her tongue. But then she deflates. "Tell me."

"Not a long life. I don't need that. I'll still be dying, but with dignity. With love. From all of the people who should have been there from the start. My brother, my father... even Lillian. Even--" Lena's breath catches on a sob. "Even my mom."

She swallows painfully around the lump in her throat, her chest tight. There haven't been any tears yet, and she isn't about to start now. But even as she makes the vow she feels the tears drop from her eyelashes.

"They'll-- they'll tell me that they're proud of me. That they'll stay with me-- until the end."

Her voice drops to a rasping whisper.

"That would be enough," she chokes out, a sob chasing on its heels. A hiccup follows, and the tears start to flood. They won't stop, and her breath comes sharper and sharper...

Suddenly, warm arms turn her around and envelop her. Lena returns the hug reflexively, and once there her arms refuse to unclench. She sobs into Kara's shoulder, letting the scent of sunshine and coconut shampoo wash over her.

"What about me?" Kara murmurs when Lena's tear ebb. She doesn't loosen her hug in the slightest. "Will I be there?"

Lena swallows, clenching her eyes shut. "I don't know," she whispers. "Will you?"

"Yes." There's not a sliver of hesitation. "I'll be with you every step of the way."

Lena's chest tightens, and her arms squeeze tighter around Kara. Kara's arms tighten gently in kind.

"I'm not going anywhere."

#supercorp #angst #mention of suicide #black mercy au #terminal illness au

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spnfemslashbang · 2 years

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Title: In Your Light

Author: DoctorProfessorSong

Artist: rauko-is-a-free-elf

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Meg Masters/Anna Milton

Warnings: No major archive warnings. Non explicit mentions of torture, alcohol, canon-typical violence, blood, broken bones, references to canon mental health diagnosis and hospitalization, minor off-screen implied dub con/non con elements

Tags: Wing fic, post-canon fix-it (sort of), overindulgent metaphors, grace sex, oh my GOD they were bunkermates

Posting Date: August 25

Summary: What do you do when your entire existence has been focused on an apocalypse that failed to happen? Meg finds herself back from the Empty, but it’s not all rainbows and sunshine. Jack's re-vamp of the afterlife has left angels and demons without any real purpose. For Meg, this results in a series of existential crises broken up by Netflix and messing around in the bunker. But all that changes when Cas' sister, Anna, shows up looking for shelter as she works through her own mid-millenia crisis. Neither one of them is exactly thrilled to be rooming with the (former) enemy, especially after Meg's enthusiastic security response results in a light stabbing. But they also can't deny the magnetic pull between them. And it turns out a fallen angel and a disobedient demon just might have more in common than they thought.

Keep reading for an short excerpt

Excerpt:

What the hell do you do when your entire existence has led up to a cataclysmic, world-ending event that never comes? There are times when Meg wants to scream in frustration. And some days she finds herself in the library or the map room staring at Anna trying to find the words to talk to her. Do you feel it too? The rest of eternity staring back at you with cold, empty eyes? Despite the fact that they are from different sides of the fence, Meg sometimes feels like Anna is one of the few people who could possibly get it. The purpose for which they were built is gone and immortality is a long damn time. It’s like swimming towards an ever-moving horizon, the safety of the shore nowhere to be seen. She wants to grab Anna and beg her to say she feels the same way. But Meg doesn’t know where to start. And some part of her worries that if she did, she would never find the end. They had a guy in hell like that. He refused to break, refused to say a word. Meg pulled out all the torture tools of the trade, but he just sat there, staring at her, eyes flat and listless. Until one day he broke and it was like every word poured out at once. He talked for hours. Days. The poor bastard didn’t even sleep. Some part of Meg feels like if she ever finally manages to articulate the words floating around in her skull, they will pour out of her like pus from a giant cyst. Disgusting and foul and never-ending. Look, after what she did to that man (and plenty of others), maybe that’s exactly what she deserves. But she isn’t interested in playing the martyr. We don’t get what we deserve is life lesson number one, double-edged as it may be. So silence lays heavy in the bunker.

#supernatural #femslash #Meg Masters/Anna Milton #supernatural femslash bang

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official-wayward-noctis · 2 years

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Deancas Bingo - hanahaki Disease

Curses of Flowers

Dean gets hit by a curse when hunting a witch. There is only one cure according to Rowena.

Ao3 Link here

Dean had almost got the witch when she decided to curse him. Of course she decided to curse him. Why couldn’t it be an easy day for the Winchesters and their fellow angel friends. Well Cas and Jack. The rest were assholes in Dean’s mind. He looked at the witch waiting to turn into something but she just smiled as he started coughing up blood and flowers? The witch smiled as she got away from him. Dean stopped coughing as he felt an arm on his shoulder. He looked to see Cas who seemed concerned.

“I’m alright,” Dean choked out. His throat was sore. Cas didn’t believe him though. He could read Dean better than anyone. Even Sam. Cas helped him up as Sam and Jack joined them looking for the witch.

“She got away,” Dean said. His voice was noticeably sore and Sam was concerned and offered to drive but Dean said no until he wasn’t touching Cas anymore and started coughing. Cas grabbed on to him but Sam and Jack already had seen enough to decide they needed to call Rowena.

“I’m fine,” Dean lied, but none of them were believing him as they got him into the impala with Cas by his side. Dean never rode in the back but this time he was. Sam got them back to the bunker and called Rowena to meet them there. Sam made Cas take Dean to the infirmary as Cas held on to him.

“You don’t have to heal me to keep me from coughing,” Dean said. His throat hurt.

“I’m not,” Cas said. Dean was confused as Cas said he would get him some water. Dean started coughing as soon as Cas left as Rowena walked into the room. Cas hurried back and got by Dean’s side and held his hand as the other slowly stopped coughing. Rowena came closer to them and went to examine Dean.

“So what is the diagnosis?” Sam asked. Jack came in and sat on Dean’s other side.

“He has hanakai disease. It’s an old witch curse placed on arrogant men,” Rowena said.

“Arrogant?” Dean asked.

“Now now,” Rowena immediately told him. “I am not saying you are arrogant. I am saying that is what it was used for. A man loves a woman and won’t admit it and then the spell is cursed and the man slowly coughs up blood and flowers for his lover. Her kissing him would be the only way to lift it. It was amusing when the woman would not love him as well because he thought too highly of himself.”

“I don’t love anyone,” Dean whined. Sam muttered something about Lisa. Cas seemed to stay quiet.

“Is there another way to help him,” Cas asked.

“His lover would be the only one,” Rowena said. “He must love someone or the curse would have not worked and you would have yourself a dead witch.”

“Okay, then is there another way to stop the curse?” Sam asked.

“Maybe if you kill the witch who cursed him,” Rowena said. Sam decided that was his option but Rowena seemed to not agree as Sam left with Jack in tow to find the witch. Rowena looked at Dean.

“Now that Sam is gone, do you want to try the question of who your lover is again?” Rowena asked. Dean looked at her confused.

“Why do you think you are not dying whenever Cas is near you but coughing continuously when he is not near?” Rowena asked. Dean didn’t know but he was going to trust that Sam could take care of the witch without thinking about Cas like that. Cas was his best friend not his lover. He didn’t love Cas like that, did he? Cas didn’t say anything but when Rowena left them Cas sat by Dean holding Dean’s hand.

“I don’t think we should tell Sam what Rowena is claiming,” Cas suggested. “It is probably just my consciousness healing you.” Dean agreed as well as the two sat in silence waiting for Sam’s call that the witch was dead.

Sam called them with the news. Dean got up and was away from Cas for a second when he started coughing up blood and flowers. Cas grabbed him and seemed to think before he kissed Dean. Dean kissed him back. He kissed a guy back. He was kissing Cas on the lips because he loved him.

“I love you,” he said when they parted. He then cleared his throat. “No homo though as Claire would say.” Cas nodded as he moved away from Dean. Dean decided to clean up the blood and flowers so Cas didn’t have to worry about it.

“We can just not tell Sam about what really solved the day,” Cas said quietly.

“We have a while before he gets back,” Dean told him. Cas looked at him confused before he caught on to what Dean was hinting at.

“I figured this was as Claire would say ‘no homo’,” Cas said.

“It is,” Dean said. Cas didn’t believe him though, but pretended that he agreed with him as they slipped off to Dean’s room so they could be ‘just bros’ together.

Sam brought back beers to celebrate as Jack sat down texting. Dean was seeing the kid slowly become a teenager and it was interesting to watch Jack become like Claire and Alex.

“Who are you texting?” Dean asked.

“Claire,” Jack said. “On our sibling chat with Alex and Patience.”

“What is so important that you had to text Claire?” Dean asked.

“Just let her know Dads were together,” Jack said. Dean looked at him confused. “I heard you coughing in the background when we were calling Cas. Sam didn’t. Or at least he showed he didn’t. I thought you were going to be too stubborn to admit it but I’m glad you weren’t. I would hate to lose my dad.”

“I didn’t know you saw me as your dad,” Dean said.

“Of course I do,” Jack said. “Also, Claire wants to give you the talk. She is very protective of Cas since he is her dad pretty much.”

“Of course she does,” Dean said, smiling at his kid and pulling him into a hug. Cas and Sam were talking quietly. Right now it was nice to have the family that he had built accepting of him. Even if he hadn’t told his blood family that he had left yet.

#dean winchester #castiel #deancas #destiel #jack kline #sam wincehster #rowena supernatural #suparnatural #spn fanfic

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spell-cleaver · 4 years

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The Heir // The Luke Palpatine AU, Part 57

Previous parts on the masterpost here

Prompt from @planningconquest

"My official diagnosis?" The doctor let the door slide shut. The view of the feverish, too-pale and only fitfully sleeping child Emperor, vanished. "He's a young man who has been through a series of traumatic events. He's worked himself into a fever. What he needs now is a fever reducer, fluids, and plenty of rest." The doctor's significant glance at Vader was enough to remind him that he'd chosen the man for his dedication to his practice, not politics. "And reduced stress moving forward. Good day, Lord Vader."

Vader watched him turn around and exit Luke's quarters, then glanced back towards Luke's closed door. He'd known that Luke... didn't seem well, despite his apparent peace and joy at what Vader had told him, and he wasn't necessarily surprised at the doctor's proclamation, but...

Hmph.

It was hard not to feel singled out by it.

"I know how we should proceed," Sabé said from her perch on the sofa, one knee thrown regally over the other, her burgundy and gold dress falling in waves around them.

"Let him rest?" Vader drawled. Sabé's gaze bore a hole into him.

"Yes," she said. "And let him relax."

"He should be more relaxed from now on. I reassured him that I would allow no one to kill him. I reassured him that I would not kill him."

"You have done that before."

"Yes, but..." Vader trailed off, gaze inexorably drawn back towards the door, and the child emperor sleeping fitfully behind it. "He believes it, now. At last."

"He would have believed it a lot sooner had you told him the truth, Anakin."

Vader clenched his fists. "He— he would have rejected me."

"And now?" Sabé's intensity was far too much like... hers. "And now, when he trusts you, when he knows that you love him? Why not tell him now?"

Vader swallowed.

Why not tell him now? Why not tell him in the bunker, that afternoon? It was the perfect moment. It would have assuaged Luke's fears with ease. It would have added extra weight to his claim and really driven it home.

But he had not told him.

Luke's experiences of fathers were far from pleasant. He... he deserved better—far better—than the realisation that his birth father, the mysterious man he was turning to now, away from Palpatine, was also one of those men who had made his childhood a living hell.

He deserved a better father than Vader.

So Vader would be Luke's protector. He would be his guardian. He would be anything the boy wanted him to be.

And he knew full well that more than anything, the space to imagine his true father as some hero was what Luke needed—not the crushing truth that both of his fathers had been Sith Lords.

"It would not help him," was all he said aloud, pretty damn cryptically, but he could tell that she didn't buy it for a second. Instead of waiting for her to say as much, he just snapped: "So? Was that all you had to your master plan?"

"Of course not." Sabé folded her hands in her lap. "I want to take him to Naboo."

Vader blinked.

"I told you," he said heatedly, "you are not taking my son away from—"

"From whom, Lord Vader?" She raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. "From you?"

"...from the Empire," he said weakly. She rolled her eyes.

"I do not mean in the sense that I want to take him away from the Empire, and being Emperor altogether," she said. "Though I do want that, and I maintain that that is what would be best for him. I simply think he should be allowed to go on holiday."

Vader stared.

"Holiday..." He shook his head. "Holiday?"

"I am sure it is an alien a concept to you as rain was when you first left Tatooine," Sabé drawled, and Vader flinched. He remembered that moment, that first trip to Naboo when they were desperately trying to save the planet. He remembered standing in the woods under a smattering of rain and seeing how the handmaidens had cooed over his delight. "So I will put it in a more Sith-like matter. Let Luke go on a retreat. To rejuvenate his... his enjoyment of life, his love for life, in the wake of this highly stressful situation he's been in for the last weeks, months..." She fixed him with a look. "Years.

"The Naberries have left Varykino in my care since Padmé passed; I can take Luke there—you had to serve as Padmé's bodyguard there, you know it's easily defendable—and he can enjoy himself there. He can relax, and act like the kid he deserves to be."

"No," Vader said immediately. "I will not allow Luke to be on a different planet to me—not at this time. You are a fool for even thinking it."

"No. I was thinking you would come with us. Don't you want to show your son where you got married?"

Vader's breathing hitched.

"You—" He balled his hands into fists. Because that... that was unquestionably worse. "You wish for me to revisit that place?"

Without her? was the unspoken question.

Sabé was unflinching. "Yes."

Vader growled, low and long in his throat. Then he paced.

"No. I cannot allow this."

"It's what would be best for Luke," she snapped. "Are you too blinded by your own emotions towards everything you used to love to see that?"

Vader said nothing.

"Don't you want to see your son happy?"

"Of course I do," he snapped. "But neither do I want to see my son kidnapped."

"And neither do you want to revisit memories you have spent so long repressing."

"You presume too much."

"I think I presume the precise amount." She stood. "Come with me."

Vader stared at her as he strode into Luke's room, leaving the door open behind her. The Noghri twitched at her entrance, but didn't stop her.

"Come on, Vader," she said. "Don't be shy."

He growled again, but followed, skimming Luke's mind with the Force; he was still asleep. He wouldn't wake just by them entering.

Sabé gestured at his sleeping face. The way he clutched his new wampa toy tightly to his chest, curving around it like a snail shell. There was a small stress furrow between his brows; even in his sleep, he knew he was hunted.

"Don't you want to see him happy?" Sabé murmured again. "He'll be far, far happier on Naboo than he ever was on Coruscant—and you know it, Anakin."

Heart clenching in his chest, Vader turned away.

Send me the first sentence of a scene from this AU and I’ll continue it!

Beginning | Previous | Next

#luke skywalker #darth vader #sabé #luke palpatine #my writing #random words on a page

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swiftlymoniquesblog · 4 years

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Crossing Parallel Lines- Sam Winchester x Reader: Chapter 11

******WARNING: The following may be a trigger to some readers! Please, read the author’s note and proceed with caution!********

A/N: Hello! Yes, I FINALLY updated this series since April! I know, it’s been a long time but I wanted this to be perfect. This was a hard chapter to write because I wrote about my own diagnosis and battle with anxiety. I wish I actually had Sam to be here for me when the battles get to be too much but I hope this brings comfort to anyone who is fighting mental illness. Please, get some help for yourself. I know it’s hard and it’s scary not knowing exactly what you’re feeling but it will be the best decision you ever make. I don’t like admitting I need help but I’m so glad I did it. This is how I cope, talking about it, but please don’t feel pressured.

Warnings: Angst, anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of medications, scary thoughts, slight mention of sex but no details, protective!Sam, fluff

Word Count: 2,767

Sam’s POV

When I sent y/n back to her universe, I ultimately thought that was the best decision for both of us. I know her life was less than perfect back home, but I knew she had a life. She has a job and a cat and a best friend so I figured she needed to go back to that lifestyle. That we would be able to follow the rules of the spell easily. We would have to wait an entire month until we could use the spell and see one another again and the week would be just enough time to be able to feel satisfied until the next reunion, but I was wrong. God was I wrong. At first, it was easy. Our first spell was magical, literally! Having y/n back in the Bunker was what we both needed; it had been too long. We spent every waking moment together and even when we slept, we were next to each other. But the week went by too fast and we had the agonizing task of having to say goodbye again and wait another month until we could be around each other. After nearly five months of doing this, I concluded that enough is enough!

“Hey, Dean,” I say, walking into his ‘Dean cave’ and interrupting what he was watching.

“Not now Sammy, the good stuff is on,” he says not even bothering to look at me. I turn behind me and see he’s watching porn, again, and I groan in frustration.

“Ah, Dean! Come on man, it’s 10 a.m.!” I roll my eyes as Dean proceeds to fight his point.

“That may be, but this stuff is always on, dude,” Dean argues back but I won’t let this stop my plans. Reaching over to grab the remote from off the armrest of the couch, I press the power button, and the screen went black.”

“Hey! Why did you do that?” Dean whines like a child to me.

“Because I need your help with something,” I start my case but am quickly interrupted.

“Look, Sam, whatever it is, it can wait,” Dean explains and reaches for the remote again.

“It’s about y/n!” I yell, causing my older brother to freeze.

“What about her? Is she okay?” Panic begins to flood Dean’s mind, it’s written all over his face, so I quickly settle his nerves.

“No, yeah, she’s fine, it’s just…I need her here man.”

“But it’s only been two weeks since you saw her last,” adds Dean, but I counter back.

“I know but it’s too long, Dean. I need her here, with me, all the time. I love her way too much to only see her once a month. I worry that she’s hurt or she’s sad and there isn’t anything I can do for her. I cannot physically be there for her and it’s killing me. She needs me, Dean. Especially right now.” I finish my small speech before Dean continues the discussion.

“What do you mean, especially now? Sam, you said she was okay but that doesn’t sound good. What’s wrong with y/n?!”

“It’s her head, Dean.”

“Her head?”

“Yeah, she has anxiety. She was just diagnosed not that long ago and it’s affecting her head. The medicine she takes, it really messes with her head and it causes panic attacks. She hasn’t been able to do much for the last 24 hours because her body is trying to keep up with the meds. And she’s scared, Dean. The meds are going to help her soon but she’s still in the introductory period and it’s being really hard on her. I-I need to be there with her. She needs me, Dean, and I’m no good if I’m stuck here.” I say, telling the truth about what y/n is going through.

“Whoa, I uh, I had no idea she was going through all that,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, just as sadden and surprised by the realization too.

“I didn’t either until I talked to her yesterday when she first got the medication. The doctor did a test on her, a survey really, and she rated how she was feeling on a scale of like 1 to 5, and out of twenty points, she scored 14. It’s pretty serious, man,” I say, holding back my tears that threatened to spill over. This was not the time for me to be emotional but to be strong for the woman I love. “She has no one else to help her through this, I need to be there.”

“But you can’t go there now, Sam. The lore specifically said it has to be every month and it’s only been two weeks,” Dean tells me the rules of the spell once more.

“Yeah, I know that Dean, but this is serious! My girlfriend is suffering through mental health issues and literally has no one else she can turn to. Callie went out of town with her family; I’m all y/n has!” I yell and that’s when my tears fled from my eyes. Without uttering a word, Dean walked over and hugged me. He could feel the sobs racking throughout my body and he knew this was important to me.

“Alright man, we’ll talk to Rowena. See if we can’t find another way around this spell. Hey, we found a way for you two to cross between two universes, I’m sure we can find a loophole so you can see her sooner,” Dean told me when I finally settled down.

“You think so?” I ask, sniffling back any more tears, wiping my jacket sleeve over my nose.

“Sure, I do. Come on Sammy, there’s nothing more powerful than love, right? I mean, I haven’t been in love with anyone in a really long time, but I do remember what it was like. And I know for damn sure, nothing would keep me from protecting that girl. So, now that you’re the one in love, and y/n has become like family to both of us, I don’t see why we can’t fight for her.”

“Thanks, Dean,” I say, a small string of hope suddenly washed over me, but it was enough to make me want to do this.

“I’ll call Rowena, you call y/n. Check-in on her and tell her I said hi too,” I nod to Dean as he walks into the next room.

I reach in my back pocket and pull out my phone. Pressing the power button, the screen lights up to show the first picture y/n and I took as a couple. She’s smiling so wide; her little cheekbones look like they might pop. I remember I had starting tickling her after she confessed how ticklish she was.

“No, no, Sam….don't you dare,” Y/N says, looking at my face as she slowly starts backing away from me.

“You know, babe, you really shouldn’t have told me you were ticklish. I am going to take advantage of this newfound information, I hope you know,” I tell her, growing increasingly closer to her.

“Sam, I’m telling you, stay away,” she says, still backing away from me, a devilish grin etched on my face. She was smiling at me too, knowing full well what she was getting into. She turned and began to run from me, but, being significantly taller than her, she didn’t get too far before I caught up to her, scooping her up in my arms and immediately tickling her. She squealed and laughed uncontrollably, as my fingers ran all over her stomach.

“SAM!” She screamed/laughed but I didn’t show any signs of slowing down, that is until she cried out that she couldn’t breathe.

“I told you, you shouldn’t have told me that,” I say as I bring into my side.

“I know but I want us to be fully open with each other. If this relationship is going to work, we have to tell each other everything, even if that means we have to suffer through something,” She threatening raised an eyebrow at me, showing off her attitude.

“What? That was worth it, seeing you laugh that hard was adorable. I mean, you were totally crying!”

She faked being angry with me until I turned her around and forced her to look up at me.

“That is a side of you I hope I always get to see,” I say and lean down to kiss her. When we broke apart, she brought out her phone and wanted to snap a selfie. She smiled her wide, beautiful smile, as I looked at her lovingly, and she took the picture.

I clicked on her name and put the phone to my ear. It began ringing and I held my breath. Come on baby, pick up. Please, pick up.

“Sam.” She spoke my name and I could tell she had just been crying.

“Hi baby, are you okay? You sound like you had been crying,” I spoke in the softest tone I could, knowing just how fragile she was, and she began crying again.

“I h-have been. I-I-I j-just miss you. I-I n-need y-you,” she cried into the phone, my heartbreaking as she did so.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry I’m not there right now, but I promise, I’m coming, okay? Please baby, be strong for me, okay? Just hold on a little longer. We’re working on a way for me to come see you sooner. My beautiful girl, please hang in there. I’m coming, I will be there with you soon.” I spoke, holding my composure together. I knew that if I didn’t it would only make things harder on her, and I couldn’t do that to her. I needed to help her, not make things worse.

“I-I l-love y-you, Sammy,” she mutters out, and then, I hear the phone drop.

“Y/N?! Baby?! DEAN!” I hear the silence on the other end and knew she wasn’t there. As fast I could, I jump up and run into the kitchen, where Dean was helping Rowena mix up a concoction of God knows what.

“What happened, Sam?” Dean asks, taking in my distraught look.

“It’s y/n, the line dropped. Oh my God, Dean, what if she’s trying to hurt herself or worse, kill herself?” I panic pace around the room.

“Sam, you need to calm down. You don’t know that. It’s y/n, she wouldn’t take her own life. She loves you too much,” Dean says, trying to rationalize with me.

“But that was it, Dean, she told me she loved me and then the line dropped,” I argue back and before Dean could put in a rebuttal, Rowena stepped in.

“Here Samuel, drink this quick. You don’t have a lot of time! You only have a thirty-second window to take this before we’d have to make this again,” I downed the drink before she even finished explaining.

We all sat and waited, time seemingly dragging on, before a blinding light enclosed around me, temporarily knocking me out. When I finally came too, I slowly stood up and saw y/n’s house before me. It worked. I said a thank you to Castiel, not even sure if he was listening, and ran up to the house. Jingling the doorknob, it was locked. Damnit, y/n, you just have to be safe right now. Quick on my feet, I grab my tool and begin picking the lock, soon opening the door. I run inside and back to the far right of the apartment, where y/n’s bedroom was.

“Y/N?! Where are you, baby?!” I yell, scanning the room for any sight of her but it was empty.

“Y/N?!” I yell again and heard an ‘ow!’ followed by some banging coming from the kitchen. I dart out of the room into the living room, where she ended up walking out into. She must’ve been baking; her face and hair were covered in flour.

“Sam!” She yells, and rushes over to me, jumping up and wrapping her smaller frame around me.

“Y/N, you’re okay!” I say, my heart rate beginning to slow when I noticed she wasn’t in immediate danger.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I mean, I’ve been sad a lot lately, but I’m okay,” she had pulled back to look at me.

She probably knew I was a wreck, pushing hair out of my face, and placing her hand on my cheek. I melt into her touch, not realizing just how much I craved it. I looked in her eyes, seeing just how red and swollen they were from crying, but she was smiling now. And without wasting any more time, I push my lips on hers, eagerly showing her just how much I missed her. She kissed me back with as much desperation as I had, surprising me that she had the energy to keep up with me. My lips find their way to her neck, kissing and gently biting the skin there, leaving my mark on her. A little moan escaped past her lips and I took advantage of that, by kissing her lips once more, my tongue pushing its way into her mouth. I could feel and taste every part of her mouth, but that wasn’t enough. Backing up to her room, I push the door open, careful not to break the kiss with her, and guided us to her bed. She falls back and temporarily breaks out kiss so she could lift her shirt over her head. My eyes quickly scan over her half-exposed body before she brings me back into a kiss. My hands roam over her chest as I felt dizzy with each touch. I knew this was something we both have wanted for a long time but I wasn’t sure this was the time for it.

“Wait, are you sure you want to do this tonight? I mean, you’ve been so upset the last two days,” I say as I take in the sight of a sad girl before me.

“Yes, I have, but I need to start feeling better and the only way I can think of, is being with you. You told me in the letter when you sent me back here, that you wanted to make love to me. I want you to make love to me tonight, Sam,” she said without an ounce of doubt in her voice. I attach my lips to hers once again, and I follow through with my promise.

When we settled back down for the night, I brought her as close to me as humanly possible and had her talk to me. She told me about everything she was feeling, why she felt like she needed to be put on medicine, and all the demons she was fighting in her head.

“My sweet girl, I am so sorry. I didn’t know you were fighting this,” I admit, trying to look at her in the darkness.

“How could you? You weren’t here when my symptoms really came to ahead. I mean, as I’ve done more research, I’ve noticed things in me that I used to feel like a kid, too, so I guess I’ve always had it. I just didn’t know what to do about it, or how to express how I was feeling. It wasn’t common when I was growing up but I’m getting help for it. And now, I have you and Dean, and Cas, to talk to, I hope.”

“Of course, you have us to talk to. We don’t want you to fight this alone. Please come and talk to us, whenever you feel yourself going into a panic attack, or even if you just feel sad, come get me. If it’s three in the morning, wake me up. I’ll drop anything and listen to you; you’re not alone,” I say, kissing her forehead, as she snuggled up against me.

“Thank you, Sam. I’m glad you’re with me for this. I don’t know how I’m going to be in the next few weeks, but I’m sorry in advance,” she says.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, y/n. You have an invisible war going on in your head; you just need help dealing with it. I will come right alongside you and will fight your battles with you. I love you so much, baby girl,” I say, taking her hand in mine and encouraging her to try and sleep. I can only imagine she hasn’t been able to get too much rest with all the new things going on with her. But no matter what may happen, I will be committed to helping her through every hard time. She was that important to me.

Crossing Parallel Lines tag list: @fandom-princess-forevermore @lilulo-12 @simpleboox

Additional tag list: @tloveswriting @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @marvelfansworld @67-chevy-baby @juju-la-tortue @hunting-the-grievers @thinkinghardhardlythinking

Potentially new readers tag list (you can catch up here with my masterlist) @angeredcrow @to-my-beloved-fandoms-2 @deansmyapplepie

Previous chapter

INBOX IS OPEN!

#crossing parallel lines #chapter 11 #Sam Winchester #sam #sam girls #sam girl #Jared Padalecki #anxiety #panic attack #meds #get help #you are not alone #sam x reader #sam x you #sam x y/n #Sam angst

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deathsteel · 3 years

Text

30 Day Fanfic Challenge

Prompt #21 - Drive

One of Castiel’s favorite things about being a surrogate Winchester is when they let him drive.

It takes a while to get there, it takes even longer for him to learn how to do it. There’s mistrust and anger that they have to work through first and then there are arguments about the merits of using one’s seat belt (the correct answer is always, unless you’re in a firefight and you need the flexibility to shoot out the window) or the car horn (the answer is only if you’re ready to follow up that horn with a fist if you piss off the person you honked at).

Dean insists that he learn basic car maintenance as well before he allows the angel to drive his car. They spend afternoons outside of hotels and later the bunker with Castiel patiently holding a flashlight (“No not there, there.”) and watching while the hunter teaches him how to change a spark plug and diagnosis a weird clunking noise that started after they had run over a chupacabra in Texas. Dean explains the pros of stick shifts over automatic transmissions and Castiel commits it all to memory like he does with everything the other man tells him.

After he’s finished his tutelage and only after, does Dean allow Castiel behind the wheel of his baby. They practice first in large, abandoned lots and later on empty stretches of highway. Castiel hits curbs and forgets which gear to put the car in causing the gears to shriek and grind and Dean winces his way through it all with minimal grumbling. Sam watches with a smirk from outside the vehicle and only has to dodge out of the way a few times to avoid being hit.

Eventually, Castiel is allowed to drive, usually at night because the roads are emptier and the angel has preternatural night vision that keeps him from even coming close to hitting any wayward rabbits or possums who may have strayed into the road. During these midnight drive’s Sam usually stretches out in the backseat with a book, dozing off within minutes as his big body relaxes into the rhythm and hum of the car’s wheels on the pavement. Dean usually stays in the front passenger seat and takes the opportunity to scarf down a burger, sharing his fries graciously with Castiel since Sam isn’t awake to complain about it.

Sometimes they talk about nothing related to their many past dramas or even the current case. Mostly, they don’t. Mostly, they sit in the companionable silence that they’ve always been able to have with each other. Dean may raise an eyebrow if Castiel changes the station on the radio to the top 40s station, but he abides by his own rule that shotgun picks the music and they both don’t acknowledge that Dean can hum along to every Taylor Swift song that plays.

It's during these quiet twilight drives, that Castiel realizes he’s in love with the other man.

One of the rare times that Dean falls asleep is when it hits him. Maybe it's the moonlight bathing the hunter’s face in its soft glow or maybe it's just the quiet stillness that permeates his own thoughts when he is behind the wheel, but the angel thinks he’s maybe always been in love with the other man. Since that first moment when his grace pulled the fractured molecules of Dean Winchester back together in hell they’d shared a connection that others couldn’t help but notice.

He spends the rest of that drive wondering if the other man feels it too. And the next one as well, and the next, and the next. Until one night, when Sam is back at the bunker and the angel and Dean head out together to pick up dinner, Dean drives this time and Castiel sits resolutely across the Impala’s bench seat from the hunter.

Dean is tapping the steering wheel and singing along to some song about cherry pie that is playing on the radio until he moves his hand down to the gear shift and leaves it there after swiftly moving the car into 3rd gear as they reach the highway. The angel spends a long moment staring at that hand, running an infinite amount of scenarios and their outcomes through his mind in that span of time before deciding he likes his odds. He reaches out confidently and puts his hand on top of the other man’s where it rests on the gear shift like it's the inevitable conclusion of their years of dancing around each other.

Which maybe it is.

Dean jumps initially at the contact, looking over at the angel in surprise before looking down at their hands on the gear shift. “Cas, what--”

The angel just raises an expectant eyebrow as he waits for Dean to finish his thought, but the hunter must see something because he doesn’t continue. Castiel sees the other man swallow hard before suddenly all of the tension between them dissipates. The line of Dean’s shoulders relaxes and the muscles in his jaw unclench and he lets out a slow breath as he turns his attention back to the road.

“I think I want a steak from that place in Phillipsburg,” Dean mused, glancing at the angel with a mischievous curl to his lips. “Whaddya say, Cas?”

“Sounds good,” Castiel replied, settling back in his seat and turning towards the window. His own smile grew when he felt the hand under his turn over and strong fingers intertwine with his own.

This probably wasn’t the safest way to drive, but it certainly felt like the best.

#30 day fanfic challenge #drive #destiel fanfiction #spn #fic writing

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troped-fanfic-challenge · 4 years

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ROUND ONE

It’s time to VOTE!!

Hey guys! It’s officially time to vote in Round 1 of Chopped Madness! The structure is simple! The fifteen (15) fics we received this round have been paired up head-to-head. Your job is to go through the eight pairings and select which author of the two fics you think deserves to move on to Round 2! The first poll, you will be asked to rank all 15 fics, the way you did in the Qualifying Round. This will help us to break any ties, and we will use this ranking to reorder the authors for the Bunker Brackets for Round 2.

At the end of the voting period, we will announce the EIGHT (8) authors who have been Chopped!! If you are not Chopped, that means you will be moving on to the next round, so keep an eye out for that post to be sure! If you aren’t sure you can always send us a message to check!

You can vote here at the updated survey!

Updated Voting Link: https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/QM5B5TP

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Unfortunately, one of our authors was unable to write. We have included a “BYE” in the position where their fic would be in the head to head, and informed their bracket partner. The author has been “Chopped”, and their Qualifying Round fic will be revealed in our Chopping Block post after the voting has ended.

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The 15 fics that we receieved for this round can be found below, or on AO3 here! Each fic follows the Theme [Angst], includes the Tropes [Strangers to Lovers] and [Roadtrip], and has a central Character focus on [Harper McIntyre]! When you vote, please be sure to take into consideration the USE of all these elements, because, as with all other Chopped events, the purpose is to select the authors who best utilize the requirements!

into a cloven pine (Rated T) [Harper/Maya]

Summary: Maya starts sitting with her at meals, shrugging aside the judgmental looks of delinquents and Mountain Men alike. When Harper tries to delicately suggest that she sit somewhere else for her own good, Maya levels her with an icy glare and threatens to kick her under the table.

For some reason, that makes Harper giggle and she figures that someone who makes her giggle must be alright to sit with.

So, she ignores Miller’s warning head shakes and Fox’s teary-eyed frowns and she plays footsie with Maya Vie. Life is weird.

She might as well just go with it.

I Need You (Like I Need a Gaping Head Wound) (Rated T) [Harper/Echo] *Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death*

Summary: “And that was the new track from Lou Bega: ‘Mambo No. 5' off his new album ‘A Little Bit of Mambo'. Stay tuned for Backstreet, Britney Spears, and The Red Hot Chili Peppers comin’ at’cha in the next hour.”

Harper shuts off the radio and leans back in the driver’s seat, taking her hands off the wheel and rubbing her temples. Traffic is worse than normal today, meaning she’s gonna be late. She’s already 45 minutes late getting back from lunch, meaning that Roan will probably call her into his office. That’s the last thing she needs today.

Harper nearly jumps out of her skin when the passenger door opens and a tall, brunette woman vaults into the car.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU D--”

“Drive,” the woman says, voice barely above a whisper.

venus, planet of love was destroyed by global warming (Rated G) [Harper/Monty]

Summary: In a world tainted by darkness, Harper meets Monty.

Take back my life (Prove I’m alright) (Rated T) [Harper/Monty]

Summary: Harper and Monty have been married for ten years and she is beginning to notice the cracks in their marriage. Will a road trip for a job interview be able to save their marriage?

Like dust behind the wagon (Rated T) [Harper/Monre] *Major Character Death*

Summary: Harper and her family were in search of a better life in Oregon when tragedy struck. She didn't think she would ever recover, and then she met Monroe, a lone traveler looking for a ride to Fort Bridger.

you can bloom again (Rated T) [Harper/Clarke]

Summary: Harper's always been a survivor.

She's survived an orphaned childhood, kidnapping, and torture. When a wave of fire stretches across the sky, she knows that she'll survive this, too - but when she meets a girl with a smile brighter than the sun, Harper wonders if surviving alone is what she really wants.

The Hardest Thing (Rated T) [Harper/Emori]

Summary: After shooting Baylis and escaping to the woods, Emori was utterly alone. She travelled through the lands of the Coalition, stealing from anyone and everyone. All of that changed when she met the last sky girl after the Mountain Men wiped out the rest of her people.

Harper had a map to a peaceful village across the sea, and Emori had nothing to lose.

Release (Rated T) [Harper/Murphy]

Summary: Her whole body is still tense, but this long habit of distrust has been formed in her, is not native to her, and his lazy, laconic air tempts her to put herself at ease. And she is curious. Behind them, the Detention Center is teeming, yet the desolation of the dim light and barren highway makes Harper feel as if they were the only two on the wide Earth.

Upon being released from the Arkadia Juvenile Detention Center, Harper takes a road trip to California with an old friend, his boyfriend, and another recently released delinquent.

What the Hell is a Pulmonary Embolism? (Rated T) [Harper & Clarke/Murphy]

Summary: Harper McIntyre wasn’t trained for this.

She was just a tour guide, how was she supposed to deal with the bus crashing in the middle of nowhere?

something more than momentary (Rated T) [Harper/Murphy]

Summary: The first rule of working for the Princess Protection Program was, well, keep your princess safe no matter the cost.

The second rule was don't get attached. Agent Murphy had followed that rule to the letter for years and never had an issue.

But now he's stuck in a car for the foreseeable future with a princess and a gunshot wound, and everything he's ever believed in just might be changing.

and the road gets tough (Rated M) [Harper/Monty]

Summary: It’s the end of the world and Harper McIntyre is done running. She’s done fighting against a life that relentlessly keeps pushing her down. But she has her son to worry about and she desperately wants him to have a new life and to experience it all. When they hit the road, she’s helped by a kind stranger who changes the course of things. Monty Green represents a life she wished she had been able to have, but it might still be too late.

everyone’s a different flower (Rated T) [Harper/Monty]

Summary: Harper McIntyre's life on Earth has been a simple one, and she's always been happy with that. But with a single diagnosis, her simple life is completely upended.

Her best friends think that an intergalactic trip across the universe is just what she needs to get her mind off of things. Raven thinks the change in scenery will do Harper some good. Clarke thinks the girl time will help.

(Harper thinks the cute space-botanist she meets might just do the trick.)

I wanna shoot the whole day down (Rated T) [Harper/Monty] *Major Character Death*

Summary: Tell me why I don't like Mondays...

Or Tuesdays, or Wednesdays, or any day since you left us.

Never Gonna Give You Up (Rated T) [Harper/Raven]

Summary: Unknown: Hey, Monty guilted me into a road trip with those damned puppy dog eyes and seeing as neither of you can be in the same car, I am your road trip Uber. Name's Raven.

Harper: Rookie mistake, you never look Monty in the eyes. That's how you lose.

A road trip, huh?

Macushla (Rated T) [Harper/Monty]

Summary: Harper Noelle Margaret McIntyre, Countess of Rothes, must survive the unthinkable, when the unsinkable ship hits an iceberg in the middle of the Atlantic

// aka the Titanic AU that isn't Jack and Rose

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#chopped madness #chopped madness: round 1 #round 1: angst

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buckysforeverprincess · 5 years

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The Gift -Chapter 9

Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes

Words: 1403

Warnings: Talk of death, confrontation

A/N: Hey, guys! Only a few chapters left and still has still yet to get his ass handed to him. Poor guy, just can’t catch a break. Let’s see what happens between the reader and Steve. Let me know what you think. Enjoy!

**TAGS FOR THIS SERIES ARE CLOSED**

You continue to stare at your husband long after Bucky had left the room. You could tell Steve felt the weight of your eyes on him and let his own wander around the room, taking everything in. Every time he glanced back at you, your intense stare made him want to crawl into himself and hide, but he couldn’t. This was his doing and he’d have to see it through, consequences be damned.

“Hi,” he said softly, finally breaking the ice.

You scoff at him and shake your head, your stare finally broken. “That’s how you want to start this, hi?” You laugh dryly. “Hi, Steve...how’s your day?” The sarcasm was apparent in your tone.

Steve looks down at his legs, knowing this is what he deserves. He should have been honest from the beginning instead of trying to protect you from his worsening condition. It’s a mistake he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to make up for, but he’s gonna try. It’s all he can really do.

“I’m sorry…” it’s soft and can barely be heard, but he’s barely holding it together.

“Why, Steve? Why?” You start out with the hard question “I’m your wife. I’ve been with you for so long, through so much. From war, to your original diagnosis, to nonexistent sperm! I’ve been through it all! So why did you decide to hide this from me? Me of all people, thinking I’d never find out?!” Your face was red and your lungs winded from the length of your rant.

Your words stung and caused tears to well up in his eyes, “Because I’m an idiot,” he admits and looks up at you, eyes meeting each other. “I’m an idiot and only wanted to keep you and the baby stress free.” The tears are coming down quickly and he wipes them away with the sleeve of the hospital gown he’s wearing.

“I should’ve been told, Steve!” You raise your voice a little, and your son stirs. “What would’ve happened if you’d have died? How stress free would I have been then?”

Steve nods slowly accepting the truth in your words. “I know, and I was wrong to keep it from you and I’m so sorry, but how was learning I’m dying going to keep you calm during your pregnancy, huh?”

You stared blankly at your husband like he was totally clueless, which in fact he was. Sometimes his need to protect his loved ones led him to make stupid decisions. Jesus, why was he so damn selfless?

“Steve...when we got married we made vows to each other. For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as we both shall live,” you remind him of the exchange. “Marriage isn’t about one person, it’s about two people working together, doing our best to keep each other happy, even in the bad times. I’ve stood by you through everything, no questions asked, all in the name of love. And when you got your end time frame, you left me out, kept it from me like it was a dirty secret. It’s like you took away my choice in how much I get to participate or to worry about you or to make plans for when this cancer finally takes you, because let’s be honest...it’s not if it’s when. This is something I needed to know, Steve. Not kept in the dark only to find out the day our son enters the world.” You were crying, your face matched your husband’s puffy cheeks and red eyes.

“I’m sorry...there’s nothing more I can say,” he mumbles through the crying.

“You didn’t even get to hold him,” you say softly, looking down at the sleeping newborn in your arms.

Steve wipes at his face again, trying to dry up the tears, “I know…” his face is riddled with sadness.

“What are we going to do without you, Steve?” The tears have yet to cease.

“Live.”

You bite at your bottom lip but shake your head slowly acknowledging his simple word. The four-letter word was small, but it would be the hardest thing you’d ever have to do. Steve was the love of your life...things just wouldn’t be the same without him.

You look down at the sleeping baby in your arms, the spitting image of his biological father, but Steve’s son just as well. Steve has yet to have a moment to see or even hold him, and you don’t want to keep him from his son any longer.

“Steve…,” you look at your husband, eyes still red and puffy from crying, “do you wanna hold him?”

Your husband nods excitedly and wipes his face once again, “Can I?” His voice is shaky from crying.

”Yeah…,” you chuckle and get up off the bed, still holding the baby and walk over to Steve.

Steve sits up nice and tall in the wheelchair and waits for you to place his son in his arms. You successfully get him settled with Steve, only minor squeaks from the sleeping baby.

“Hey, there…,” Steve looks at the brunette boy he’s holding, tears already forming again, “I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

You watch as Steve’s face goes through so many emotions; happiness, sadness, regret, joy. Holding his child for the first time was one of the happiest moments of your life, and one you won’t forget anytime soon.

Time seemed to move slowly, and you’re not sure just how long you watched Steve and Xavier, but they held your attention until Bucky walked through the door, food in hand.

“Hey, guys-“ he stops when he sees Steve and the baby.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve smiles back at him.

Bucky sets the food down and walks over to Steve’s side and looks down at his biological son. “You look good...you look good together,” Bucky says with smile.

“They do, don’t they?” You agree and bend down and kiss Steve’s cheek softly.

“Thank you, Buck.” Steve says, still looking down at the sleeping baby.

“For?” He looks at him confused.

Steve looks up at Bucky and stares at him, tears pooling in his eyes, “Everything...this...my family…”

Bucky nods and does his best to smile at his friend, “You would’ve done the same for me.”

“Actually…there is something I’d like to do for you…,” Steve’s eyes dart to you and you give him a perplexed look, “I’d like us to hyphenate Xavier’s last name.”

“You do?” You question your husband, who’s eyes have never left you.

“I do. I think it’s only fair and the right thing to do given my current status.”

Your eyes move from Steve to Bucky, the man in a state of shock and disbelief. “Are you...is that something you’d want?” You ask him, your tone not sounding very confident about your question.

Bucky opens his mouth and exhales, but no words follow. He looks back at Steve and then you, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse as to why it was a bad idea, but nothing comes to mind. Instead he shrugs his shoulders and nods his head in agreement.

“Sure...sounds good to me.”

“Great!” Steve says with excitement, Xavier jolted awake from being startled. “Sorry, son.” He rubs the baby’s head, and luckily, he falls back to sleep as quick as he had been woken. “So, do we all agree on this? Xavier Grant Rogers-Barnes?”

Both you and Bucky look at each other and do your best to smile.

“Yeah,” you said softly.

“It’s great, Steve...perfect,” Bucky tries to sound convincing even though he’s so heartbroken by everything happening around him.

Steve smiles brightly and then eyes the food Bucky brought in. “I’m starving...let’s eat!”

You chuckle and move over to the bags. “Then Bucky will take you back to your room. You need to rest.”

“Food then rest...I can get on board with that.”

“Bucky...can you take Xavier, so Steve can eat?”

“Uh, yeah…,” Bucky walks to the wheelchair and careful takes the sleeping baby from his best friend.

“I’m glad I got to hold him…,” Steve says, wheeling himself to the makeshift table in your room, “maybe he’ll give me the push I need to get better.” A burst of happiness runs through him.

“Let’s hope things turn around and you’ll be home soon,” you grin and look down lovingly at your husband.

Too bad the things we want don’t ever happen how we wish them to be.

The Gift Tags:

@chuuulip @jessieray98 @sexyvixen7 @mrsalh32611 @isabelcrichards @dumblani @becs-bunker @a-distantdreamer @mizzzpink @little-big-mac2 @joannie95 @abschaffer2 @affabletimelady @crazybutconfidentaf @jfrank1048 @ellliexo @hellomissmabel @pumbibaby @wintersoldier1017

Forever Tags:

@caplanreads @the-real-kellymonster @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @kruscht @v-2bucky @palaiasaurus64 @breezy1415 @amandarosemire @sarahp879 @supernaturaldean67 @averyrogers83 @winters-beauty @scarlettsoldier @lovely-geek @titty-teetee @suz-123 @patzammit @malfoysqueen14 @callmebucky-doll @ronnie248-blog @alyssaj23 @drakelover78 @thisismysecrethappyplace @geeksareunique @childishhoebinoo @thesassmisstress @bloodiedskirtts @brieannakeogh @peaceinourtime82 @theoneanna @leosandbuckysgirl @coal000 @seachelle-the-tideborn @the-goddess-of-mischief @mychemicalimagines @awkwardfangirl2014 @strangenerdsstuff @sea040561 @marvelobsessedteen @capnbuck-tiltheend-oftheline @thefandomplace @collette04 @nishanki1 @notyourtypicalrose @jamielea81 @lunardanvers @onebatch--twobatch @courtmr @emelody @miraclesoflove @kcd15 @clarysthing @crist1216 @yknott81 @babypink224221 @xxloki81xx @death-unbecomes-you @ellaprime68 @littlemarvelfics @thatfanficstuff @hotoffthepressfics

#steve rogers #steven rogers #steven grant rogers #steve rogers x reader #steven rogers x reader #steven grant rogers x reader #james barnes #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel #marvel au #cancer diagnosis #pancreatic cancer

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peggysousfan · 4 years

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Captain America: The First Super Soldiers

Here is chapter 5!! Enjoy the twists to come! 😉

SSR Bunker, 1944, December:

Its been 2 weeks since the Howling Commandos and the two Super Soldier Captains left to take down the Hydra camps they mapped. For 2 weeks Agent Peggy Carter has not seen the love of her life. No letters have been sent and no word has been given from him. As she, Stark, and Colonel Philips meet for a meeting, her stomach begins to churn. She tries to sit still and swallow it down, but she can't hold it in much longer. She gets out of her seat and rushes to the nearest toiletries, and vomits.

"Where'd she go?" Stark asks,confused; but Philips knows exactly where. The same place shes been running off to for the past week. He mumbles to himself and walks into the hall, waiting. After several minutes of standing, Agent Carter walks her way back to the meeting room, when she sees Philips waiting.

"Colonel Philips, sir? What are yo-

"I'm calling in a doctor first thing tomorrow, and you will be getting checked out." At first shes confused and shakes her head. "Carter, Do you really think I haven't noticed you running off and puking your damn guts out? Because I have." She sighs in defeat. "Your seeing a doctor. Thats an order." He walks back into the meeting room, with Carter in tow. 'Bloody hell' she thinks. And they resume the meeting.

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1945 January:

"Alright. On my mark, we hit the outer base, here. We'll get in through the the cargo holds and release the gas." Rogers says. "And then once we're inside, we'll take down the-"

"Look, Steve, We like the plan. Its just-" Dugan starts to say

"Too complicated." Pinkerton finishes.

"I like Sousa's plan better." Dugan says. Steve glares at them, and then at Sousa.

"What? Its not like I forced them to agree with me."

"Right. Cause nothing you do or say is ever against me." They all share a look and watch the two super soldiers argue.

"Rogers. What the hell are you talking about? Its as simple as the other bases. If anything this one is the smallest out of all of them." Steve balls up his fists and looks away. "We get in by placing the gas bombs outside. While they are knocked out or dead, We sneak in, plant the actual bombs, get out, Boom!"

"And if they have gas masks?"

"This gas penetrates and tears away at a persons skin." Bucky says. "Even with masks, it won't help them. They aren't covered up to hell like we are." Steve says nothing, instead, they go with Sousa's plan; and it works. All of the Commandos yell and celebrate as they got another Hydra base of of the map.While they all celebrate, Rogers walks off by himself, angry at Sousa.

"Steve!" Bucky runs after him. "C'mon man, we're heading to that bar to celebrate."

"The jobs not done, Buck. Why are we celebrating." Bucky looks away for a moment and then back at his friend.

"Because, Steve, We won another battle-"

"But that doesn't mean we won the war." He snaps.

"Come one, Rogers. We win the War one battle at a time. And because of you and Sousa, we-" Steve snickers. "What?" He says nothing, instead walks away. "Steve, what?"

"Sousa." he continues to shake his head. "I... I can't stand him, Buck."

"Uh...why? Hes done nothing wrong." Steve snickers again.

"Done nothing wrong? All hes ever done is take everything from me Bucky! The serum was only suppose to be tested on one person, and then he shows up and gets tested." Bucky starts to squint his eyes at Steve, not liking where this is going. "He got to go to Europe while I was stuck dancing like some...chorus girl on stage. He got to fight and my only other option was a lab! And then!" Steve starts to pace around; and Bucky backs away a few steps. "Peggy. He tried to get me away from her so he could get to her first. He told me to not waste my time and pursue anything because he was already trying! C'mon Bucky, why the hell would I like a guy thats done all of this?"

At first he says nothing, instead he shakes his head and starts to leave.

"I-I don't know, Steve. I think you're reading too much into this." He places his hands in his pocket. "It makes sense to test more than one person to make sure it works, not everyone is the same; especially when you're in poor health. And besides, the whole Captain America world tour thing? You agreed and chose to go, Sousa was never given that option. He probably fought like hell to go."

"Or he had Peggy convince Philips." Steve argues.

"But how would you know that? And for all you know, if they are together...She chose him and made the first move."Steve stops pacing and glares at Bucky. "You DON'T know, Steven. And its not your place, or anyone elses to put their nose in their business." And with that he leaves.

"Hey, Barnes. Everything okay?" Daniel Asks. He pats Sousa on the back.

"Yeah everything's fine." He sits down and eats some rations. "I go by Bucky, by the way." He reaches out his hand and Daniel takes it.

"Daniel." And with that everyone enjoyed the rest of their evening, while Rogers was pouting on his own.

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SSR Bunker:

"Good Morning, you must be Agent Carter," Peggy reluctantly shakes his hand. She doesn't think she needs to see a doctor, but the Colonel insisted and made it an order.

"Good morning," She says as she sits down, hands in her lap.

"Okay, so I am Dr. Moore," He smiles politely, "And I was told you haven't been feeling well by the Colonel." She tries to not roll hers eyes.

"Yes, I, uhm.. I have been feeling a little under the weather the last few weeks. But I don't think its so terrible to need a doctor."

"Well, its best we see what is going on, now, before anything gets worse. Now what are your symptoms?"

"Just nausea..."

"Okay...Anything else? Headache? Coughing? Sneezing? Uhh.....Dizziness? Lack of appetite? Any of that?" With so many questions Peggy felt affronted.

"Yes, I have had a lack of appetite. I'm not actually sure about dizzy. I only get that way when I stand too quickly." Dr. Moore nods his hands and leans forward; thinking.

"Okay, um....Are you sensitive to any smells? Maybe some mood swings? Extra exhaustion? Or have you missed any of your menstrual cycles? " Peggy stops and thinks for several moments. Although some of the questions seemed very odd...

"I have been feeling exhausted as of late, but I always assumed it was work." He nods and hums along. "As for...sensitivity to smells or...mood, uhm, I-I suppose. Although it never really concerned me. And my... mensuration often varies."

"And why is that?" He asks as he writes it all down.

"Well, I've always hated the smell of coffee, and being here, it constantly smells of it. Uhm.. As for mood I work in a office full of idiotic, sexist, and ambitious men; with little to no peace of mind. So my mood constantly varies. And, because of constant stress, I haven't had a solid menstruation pattern for.. several months,now..."

"Okay, uhhh... " He takes a deep breath and sets down his notes. "As you know we have a...policy called Doctor-patient confidentiality." Peggy nods. "And with that being said, you are aware that everything you say here, in this room, does not leave it. I cannot, nor will I ever repeat what is said in these walls between you and myself."

"Of course."

"Okay. So, with that out in the open.... When was the last menstrual cycle you experienced?"

"I think...perhaps, 2 months ago. No longer than 3. Defiantly not longer than 3." He nods and hums once more.

"Agent Carter, I am going to have to get very...personal with you. And I want full honesty." Peggy nods again. "Do have a partner, Ms. Carter? And I don't mean work." Peggy furrows her brow at his question. "Have you had any...intimate... relationships with anyone in the span of those 3 months?" She hesitates in answering. "I don't need to know his name, I just need a simple yes or no."

"Yes." she answers after several seconds.Dr. Moore takes a deep breath and sighs.

"Thats what I was afraid of...We may need to do some blood work, but..." He writes more notes down and starts to speak again. "I'm afraid that you may-"

"Peg! We got word! They took down 3 Operations and are on their way back to-" Howard stops when he notices the Doctor. "Oh, sorry, didn't know I was interrupting."

"Howard!? What the hell are you doing?"

"Sorry, I just wanted to tell you that they're coming back. They should be here in a few days." Her face burst with excitement as she jumps from her chair. Stark runs from the room and she starts to follow.

"Agent Carter" She stops and turns around. "About your diagnosis...."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few days Later:

As the Agents of officers in the SSR Bunker go about their day, all is quiet; but it doesn't last long. When the doors open and the Commandos enter, everything is loud, many agents spill their coffees or drop their reports.

"Well, well, well. Look who Schmidt dragged in!" Stark walks to them and shakes their hands, but embraces Rogers and Sousa.

"Glad to see you boys all back in one piece." Colonel Philips comes around a corner.

"Sir, we have our mission reports all written up," Sousa hands them to Philips. He grumbles his thanks and hands them off to another agent to be typed.

"So, where are we on dismantling Hydras operations."

"Well, so far-

"So far we've been successful in every mission, sir."Steve interrupts Daniel. Sousa glances at him, but Rogers ignores him. "We've taken out 3 camps, 6 shipments of weapons, stole one of their radios, and caught wind on information about a train where Schmidt's most trusted man will be."

"Great work, boys." He claps Rogers on the back starts to walk away. Daniel glances and shakes his head at Rogers.

"Where are you going, Sousa? We need to-"

"I'll be back in a few minutes. I gotta take care of something first." And with that, he runs off.

"Carter, more like," Steve mumbles

"Let it got, Rogers." Bucky says as he walks past him.

Daniel walks down every hall way, meeting room, and every office; but theres no sign of her. He goes to the sleeping quarters and doesn't see anything. As he starts to leave, he hears sniffling.

"Hello? Anyone in here?" He asks. The sniffling stops and in the corner of the room, a head appears.

"Daniel?"

"Peg?" He runs over to her. "Hey what happened?" He holds he face and sees it drenched in tears. She shakes her head and looks away, holding her knees closer to her chest and her body tight. Daniel places a hand on her back and rubs comforting circles; normally when shes upset, this or playing in her hair calms her down almost immediately. "Peggy... whats going on? Whats wrong?" At this she gives a chuckle.

"Wrong? Wrong." She starts to laugh and it leads into a sob. "Oh Daniel..." She throws her arms over his shoulders and he holds her tight; one hand on her back and the other in her hair.

"Peg, you're scaring the hell out of me right now..." She starts to pull away, and says two words that will changed their lives forever.

"I-I'm pregnant."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

February 1945:

Base after base, Hydras operations were being torn down and blown into oblivion. Shots fired and bombs blown, and Johann Schmidt's anger raved on and on after each discovery; nothing but fire and smoke was left of these camps. The Allies and their Captains of America have have left nothing behind.

"You are failing!" Schmidt yells. "We are close to an offensive that will shake the planet, yet we are continually delayed because you can not outwit a pair of simpletons with shields!"

"This is hardly my area of expertise," Zola argues. "I merely developed the weapons. I cannot fire them."

"Finish your mission, Doctor, before the Americans finish theirs." He threatens.

"Sir!" A Hydra soldier approaches.

"I'm sorry, Herr Schmidt." A survivor says. "We fought to the last man."

"Apparently not." And the Red Skulls shots him down. He grows more furious with each defeat and wants nothing more than revenge.

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SSR Bunker, 3 Weeks later :

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said I'm not going, Rogers. You take lead on this one."

"Daniel, come one. Why not? We get in the train, grab Zola, and get out." Bucky says.

"I know, but... I just can't." He starts to argue again. "Bucky this is my choice. I have to stay behind just this once." When Sousa calls Barnes Bucky, Steve gives him a deadly glare. "Go. Get Zola. I'll be here when you guys get back." The two shake hands and and Barnes leave.

"Captain?" Peggy walks up to them. "Colonel Philips wants a word." Daniel nods his head.

"I'll be right there." She smiles as he touches her arm, and then walks away. "Try not to be too reckless, Rogers. We need this to be perfect."

"I know what I'm doing." And then Steve leaves.

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Mountain Range:

As the Hydra radio plays its stations, the Howling Commandos listen in to what they say.

"You remember the time I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?"

"Yeah, and I threw up?" Steve replies.

"This isn't pay back. is it?" Bucky asks as they look over the deep, long drop to the train tracks.

"Now why would I do that?" He smirks.

"Can someone explain where the hell Sousa is? " Dugan asks.

"Who cares about Sousa? Right now we have a mission to focus on.. He didn't want to be apart of it and that's his own problem." Steve says

"Uh.. we all care where he is... Hes apart of this team." Dugan responds. Steve looks away and back at the tracks.

"We were right. Dr. Zola's on the train." Jones says. "Hydra dispatcher gave him permission to open up the throttle. Wherever they're going, they must need him bad." Everyone starts to gear up, put their hooks on the zip like, and waits for the train. When the time is right, they jump, zip, and land on the roof.

The walk towards the top part of the train climb on the side, and go inside. At first all is quiet, they walk freely in the hall, until the units are closed and Rogers and Barnes are separated. Gun shots are fired and the tow commandos and Hydra operative fight. All the while Dr. Zola watches and commands them to fire again. For several minutes, there are nothing but shots fired from guns and Hydras tesseract powered weapon. Steve opens the door and passes Bucky his gun, together they kill him.

"I had him on the ropes," he says.

"I know you did." The soldier Steve fought didn't die, and he blast a whole on the side of the train. Barnes take the shield and fires his gun, but is shot out of the train. Steve throws the shield and knocks him out. As he looks out the whole, Bucky is dangling from the outside. Steve tries to reach for him...but he falls. Jones breaks into the operations part of the train, gun cocked, and takes Zola.

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SSR Bunker:

When word gets back the the Commandos are on their way back, Agent Carter and Captain Sousa make their way to see Zola; but are confronted with something else. As they all make their way into the bunker, they notice a comrade missing. Dugan and Jones drag Zola to get interrogated by Philips, and Steve goes another way.

"Wheres Barnes?" Daniel asks.

Steve says nothing, instead bumps Sousa's shoulder and walks past. Peggy gasps and holds Daniel steady.

"Well that was uncalled for." She says. "Rogers!"

"Peg, its fine." She whips her head towards him, and he looks way like a sad puppy. Ever since he found out she was pregnant, hes even more afraid of her; shes more aggressive when shes angry.

"No, its not." She walks towards Steve and grabs him. He turns around quickly; not expecting that, he bumps into her. She leans against the table behind her, and before she knows it, Daniels at her side, supporting her. She shoves him away. "Not only was your gesture incredibly rude, but you ignored a fellow Captains question." Steve clenches his jaw and looks away. "What happened? Where is Sergeant Barnes?"

"Hes dead...." And with that Steve starts to walk away.

"What!?" Daniel shouts. "What the hell-

"He fell off the train and-" He takes a deep breath. "And he dropped...dropped down the entire mountain side." Although Peggy was never close to Barnes, tears well up in her eyes. 'Damn pregnancy' she thinks.

"How the hell could that have happened?" Sousa exclaims. Rogers explained what happened and Daniel gets pissed. "Are you kidding me? Why they hell would you not go straight to the front where Zola was? Why even bother to go through the other compartments?" Steve clenches his fists .

"Excuse me if not everyone thinks the way you do, Sousa."

"Its not just thinking, Rogers. Its common damn sense." Steve advances towards Daniel, but Peggy steps in.

"Don't even think about it."

"So you have to have some woman speak for you?"Daniel starts to get heated.

"Thats enough." Peggy begins to turn red, and Daniel gently grabs her arm. She looks at him, and he shakes his head. She stares down Rogers and he storms away. She forces her self to calm down, but it only brings more tears, as she wipes her eyes and walks away, and Daniel follows her; and Steve is left alone.

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Hydras Main Facility:

There in the hanger sits an enormous aircraft, meant for the worlds demise. Johann Schmidt walks by it, as his soldiers stand at attention.

"Tomorrow, Hydra will stand master of the world, borne to victory on wings of the Valkyrie. Our enemies weapons will be powerless against us. If they shoot down one plane, hundreds more will rain fire upon them!" He stand all might before his followers and lifts a glass. "If they cut off one head, two more shall take its place. Hail Hydra."

"Hail Hydra! Hail Hydra!" The hundreds of thousands of soldiers chant. "Hail Hydra! Hail Hydra!Hail Hydra! Hail Hydra!"

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SSR Bunker:

"You have to." She insists

"Peggy, I won't. What if-

"You can't think that way, Daniel."

"I won't be able to live with myself if something were to happen to me or you and the baby. I can't. I won't. Peg.." He begs.

"That is why you must go, Daniel. To make sure it is safe! I don't want this child, our child, to live in a world where war reigns over us all. I want this to be over. I want to find a make a home...And we can only do that if we fight for it." He sighs in defeat. "I will do all that I can. Nothing to dangerous, out of caution," She touches her still flat stomach."But I will do my part, and you have to do yours."

"Okay... I will." He places his hand on top of hers. "I still can't believe it..."

"Neither can I." She laughs.

"How long until... ya know." She lifts a brow an tilts her head. "You start to show." She laughs again.

"Not for another 3 weeks at least! Now stop trying to rush it!!" She shoves him lightly, and he laughs.

"I'm not I'm just curious and..."

"Excited?" She suggests.

"Yeah... I am." He grabs her waist and brings her closer. "I'm gonna be a dad" He laughs.

"And I'm going to be a mum..." They share a sweet kiss and hold each other tight. "We can do this...right?"

"We can do anything, Peg. As long as we have each other." She stares into his eyes and feels the perfect bliss of peace...and of Home. They kiss once more before Sousa begins to leave.

"Come back to us...Thats an order, Captain." She smirks.

"Damn right I will." They embrace, and he leaves to finish the war.

#peggysous #peggy carter #daniel sousa #Peggy x Daniel #agent carter #catfa #au fanfic #fanfiction #anti steggy #anti steve rogers

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mittensmorgul · 5 years

Text

14.06

"Jack, I'm already writing. Isn't that crazy? I'm not crazy. But our love is so vivid. I can't wait to find you. You are the first man to ever get me to leave McCook. Now I'm in the world. I'm sorry I have to kill you for what you did to Vance but then I can bring you back so that we can be together again. It's gonna be perfect. See you soon. Love, Harper"

Heck this was so long ago, but here we had Jack vs Zombies, and I still really need to make a complete post of all the Jack vs Zombies references...

At the time, this seemed to foreshadow Jack’s impending sickness and his first death in 14.08. But heck if it didn’t also foreshadow his second “death” (if death of his human soul counts) in 14.14, and his complete death at Chuck’s hand in 14.20. And isn’t it incredible that Death herself looks to be interested in bringing Jack back while Sam, Dean, and Cas are being overrun by literal zombies Chuck set on them in the graveyard. I find it fascinating that, knowing how Chuck has been obsessing over their lives, that all of Jack’s focus on zombies going back to 13.06 seems to have affected Chuck’s chosen end of the world scenario.

(really gotta compile the zombie references)

But in 14.06, while Sam and Charlie are dealing with a Musca who has withdrawn himself from the company of his own kind and made his own nest out of human bodies (and that’s just a different kind of sad right there... isolation is bad, basically, and makes us do awful things to survive), Dean and Jack face an actual necromancer who has isolated herself through her own fear of being abandoned by her high school boyfriend... (flashback to Jody talking about how first love strikes quick regarding Kaia and Claire in 14.03).

Harper’s choice to murder her boyfriend and bring him back as a zombie, because she was the last necromancer in her family line and was effectively alone otherwise, but mostly because she refused to move on.

Kinda sounds like Chuck a lil bit and what he’s done to TFW over and over again because he can’t let go and move on.

Interestingly enough, this is the beginning of Dean and Jack truly bonding, over Jack’s humanity. Jack wants a chance to experience humanity to the fullest, and Dean takes him out driving, for burgers, fishing... just hanging out like people.

I’m watching 14.07 now as I’m typing this, and I feel like I need to make note of when Dean experiences his weird vision issues that we’d attributed to Michael “spying” on him in the past, but heck... the two episodes he’s experienced so far have happened at moments that feel like “minute plot shifts” of the sort we’ve now learned that Chuck had been forcing into their lives, steering their options, leading up to the Big Final Choice he was attempting to force Dean into in 14.20.

Because that wasn’t just forcing Dean to kill Jack, it was forcing Dean to sacrifice himself, to be perfectly willing to sacrifice himself. And in a weird way, those strange visual anomalies almost look like Dean somehow seeing through the matrix at critical moments where Chuck could’ve been steering the plot...

In 14.07, as Jack is driving, he turns to Dean and says, “It’s like I’m you!” And it was interesting as a flashing arrow pointing to Jack being a mirror for Dean, after their conversation at the beginning of 14.06:

JACK - Dean, what happened with Michael, no one blames you. DEAN - Cool, well I blame me, so... [...] JACK - Dean, I need to do something. You don't understand. I could have killed Michael. Here, when I was strong enough, I could have. But there was so much going on and then everything else happened because I was distracted and stupid and DEAN - Hey! You didn't do anything wrong. JACK - And neither did you!! But that doesn't make it any easier does it? So I can't just sit here in the bunker thinking about it all day. What I could have done differently, how I can't do anything about it now. But I can do this. I can hunt. Give me a chance.

And by the end of the episode, both of them have reached this conclusion:

JACK - I was right and you should be letting me go out on hunts. DEAN - okay, alright. It's not about being right. Kay? You're gonna make mistakes, hell, I make them all the time. But it's how you handle yourself once you've made those mistakes and you've learned from them. JACK - and, how to not beat yourself up over them.

Okay, back to my point. The first of Dean’s anomalies happens while Rowena is giving her diagnosis of Jack:

Rowena: It's as I suspected. A Nephilim, for all its power, is an unnatural presence. Part human, part angel… It -- It doesn't quite fit. It's delicate. Its grace is what holds it in balance, and when Jack's grace was taken from him, his being fell into chaos. The -- The cells are gobbling each other up. Castiel: Well, if it's grace he needs, he can have mine. Rowena: No, dear, it won't do. Jack is part archangel. He needs a much stronger force and probably some kind of magic, and he needs it quick. Dean: How quick? Rowena: I don't...I don't exactly know, but he's enterin' a critical phase. Sometimes he'll look just fine, but then his body will give way and...it'll be the end of him.

And... “as I suspected?” Really? How does Rowena know more about nephilim biology than Cas, as an angel? Where is she getting this information, and specifically the info that Cas’s grace wouldn’t help? That sounds like some Chuck-level manipulation going on.

The next anomaly happens here:

Sam: Well, I just got off the phone with Ketch. Um, he's got a line on a shaman. Dean: A shaman? Sam: Yeah, the British Men of Letters used to use him -- as a consultant. Whenever they needed to "solve the unsolvable" -- he was their guy. He's an expert in mysticism -- esoteric divinity. I mean, Ketch says the Brits swore by him. Castiel: Ketch "says." Sam: Yeah. His name is "Sergei," I-I got a location,and Ketch says he'll set up a meeting. Castiel: Okay, I'll go. You and Dean need to stay here with, uh... Sam: Jack, hey. W-What are you, uh --

This was right after Rowena said none of her witch friends knew how to help Jack, but they needed some new angle to research, to push them all where Chuck wanted them. And this convenient shaman appears, who just so happens to have a vial of Gabriel’s grace ready to trade for a favor.

And the cure seems to work for a moment, but then... makes everything even worse, because heck isn’t that just a Chuck sort of thing to do?

Snatching defeat from the jaws of victory yet again.

They thought they were dealing with one problem, when really Chuck’s always been the problem. And they’ve only now seen Chuck’s influence for what it really is, and become fully aware of how little control they’ve ever had of their own lives.

And the zombie story, and Dean and Jack’s intertwined fates, shambles on.

(imma go make the zombie post next)

#spn 14.06 #spn 14.07 #spn 14.20 #spiders georg of the tnt loop #s14 hellatus rewatch #it's spirals all the way down #if you say 'mysterious ways' so help me i will kick your ass

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incarnateirony · 5 years

Text

Sam lensed thoughts

I think what’s killing me right now is Sam’s juxtaposition to Dean at our current advent in season 14.

In a lot of ways, Sam is fulfilling a true character arc -- finally. Passed the keys to the bunker; using his tech savant skills to build a network and a legacy; not as ready or thoughtful of retirement as Dean yet, but still wanting peace; Dean readily accepting him taking on a leader role--

But Dean himself isn’t complete and so, even removing Michael -- if we pretended that was a nonissue -- Dean himself is still broken up over the aftermath and Sammy doesn’t know how to fix it.

He tried. He thought he had it.

In season 10, during the Mark of Cain chaos, Dean took comfort and “felt like himself” again by being taken on a vampire hunt.

Dean: “Yeah, you know, for the first time I've been back, I didn't feel like the Mark was pushing me.”

Sam: “First time?”

Dean: “All I know is, back there, killing those vamps... I felt like me again.“

Sam: “Alright, so that’s good, right?"

D: “Yeah.”

-- Sam & Dean, 10.08 Hibbing 911.

Now, in season 14 with Dean hiding out in his room, not only does Sam do that but finds like, The Perfect Case™ that’s just perfectly suited to get Dean out of a funk with the interests he never lets himself deeply invest in and boom -- plucky Dean at the end of the episode, but we all saw something still wasn’t right.

And, in 14.5, Dean does show where he’s grown. Sam doesn’t get to really see these discussions as he talks about trying to let things go every day because The Past Is The Past (trying to think like that every day, rather than S10 where it’s “the opposite of what I do”; also keep an eye on S10, we’re gonna keep tapping back to it), but the thought echoes up later. And Dean, sideways in it all still, admits -- he’s still not okay. He almost felt like himself. Almost.

“You know, I’ve been trying to– not forget, but to move on, from what I–from what we– from what he did. And to be honest, I was– I was starting to feel like myself again. Almost."

– Dean 14.5 Nightmare Logic

Almost.

In fact, the sentences are framed so painfully similar, and the evocation of Americana in both of these episodes (though 14.5 it was a shortly previous scene with sending off Mobby), I can’t help but feel it was, truly, intentional. “You know,” [introspection] “I felt like me again/I was starting to feel like myself again. Almost.”

Almost.

The “Almost” is murdering me. As is this.

Sam: "K. Then let’s go with that."

[everybody loads up and rolls!]

-- 10.08

Sam: So we’ll work harder.

Dean: How, Sam?

-- 14.05

As we know, Dean goes on about Sam’s lack of sleep, Sam just offers to... sleep less, work harder. But aggressively goes into saying they’ll find Michael. But let’s be real -- stabbing Michael and racing to the end of the book won’t fix the traps Dean knows “i/we/he” set up. They won’t deal with Dean’s emotional state. And Sam isn’t dumb. He knows that. And even that much Dean doesn’t have real hope in right now.

Sam is sort of flailing to find a salve for his brother.

What’s worked in the past, and even the semi-recent past (I mean, 4 years ago isn’t ancient in the scale of things; and even by S10 it had become evident that Dean’s masks and easy patches weren’t working anymore), just isn’t doing it here. Even with the Mark of Cain literally under Dean’s skin, this is all the more under it.

Which means we have to look at how else Sam can even try to fix this.

Sam’s being the sounding board for everybody. I mean, that’s not unusual, it’s Sam. But right now, we have -- in example --

“Look, the point is,” Sam comes back, from a point of knowing, “people put up walls for a reason. So whatever your Bobby has behind his, I doubt it’s pretty.”

Mary: “But you think I should try and find out?”

Sam: “You know what? If you care about him? I think you should.”

We now interrupt your deep character insights with discovering a critical part of the hunt.

Sam was, of course, quick to tune into it. Before that discussion at all,

You know, “I wasn’t gonna mention it, none of my business, but it seems like you’d gotten pretty close, lately.”

Everything -- the entire discourse -- poured from a place of silent knowing. Just like, with everything from DreamHunter to Dean repressing Michael’s memories and it not being as hunky-dory-okay as he was pretending,

There’s things Sam knows he can’t give Dean. He tries to fill the gaps by finding perfect hobby hunts, distractions, directions for Dean to gun it while everything sorts itself out, but even that is thinning out. It only-almost works. Almost.

DEAN Look, I have no illusions, okay? I know the life that I live, I know how that’s gonna end for me. Whatever. I’m okay with that. But I wanted you to know…that when I do picture myself happy…it’s with you. And the kid.

LISA Wow.

DEAN I mean, you don’t have to say anything.

LISA No, I…I mean, I know. I know. I want to. Come inside. Let me get you a beer.

DEAN I wish I could. Take care of yourself, Lisa.

-- 5.17, 99 Problems.

A conversation Sam wasn’t privy to witness, but the psychology behind his brother was still not something Sam missed. Just like he wasn’t privy to most of Sam and Mary, just like he just saw a few hunters cooperating and saw something there. Just like Sam Knew. It’s something Sam’s always excelled at. He just pays attention and reads people around him.

SAM: Really? You don't . . . Ever want something more?

DEAN: I'm sorry, have you met us? We're batting a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs.

SAM: You don't ever think about something? Not marriage or whatever. But . . . Something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?

-- 11.04 Baby.

We can, of course, argue that sometimes Sam thinks about this himself, but it’s not as thematic. Eileen, for example, was a good reprieve for him. Amelia, as much as we hate that story. Sam knows and understands it, but he’s not quite there right now. Right now he’s building a legacy, being passed the keys in so many ways -- from the keys to the bunker, to almost the keys to the car; the keys to this hunter circle he’s been leading while Dean’s down, crushed under himself, or in an episode full of mirrors of all the characters where keys to a shop legacy were passed while one wasn’t quite following the vein and the spirit of past expectation came to haunt them.

Sam has never needed a confessional to gloss things like this from his brother, though he was not witness to it.

DEAN What if I said I…I didn’t want to die…yet, you know, that I wasn’t ready?

FATHER DELANEY Are you expecting to?

DEAN Always. [Chuckles] You know, the life I live, the work I do…I pretty much just figured that that was all there was to me, you know? Tear around and jam the key in the ignition and haul ass until I ran out of gas. I guess I just thought sooner or later, I’d go out the same way that I live – pedal to the metal, and that would be it.

FATHER DELANEY But now?

DEAN Now, um… recent events, uh… make me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And…I don’t know. I mean, you know, there’s – there’s things, there’s…people, feelings that I-I-I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time.

FATHER DELANEY Go a little deeper, perhaps, than with Gina.

DEAN Yeah. Yeah, I’m just starting to think that… maybe there’s more to it all than I thought.

-- 10.16 Paint it Black

Sam never pried about what Dean confessed, despite standing right outside. “I wasn’t gonna mention it, none of my business,”

But he noticed. Like Sam does. Even in this episode we double back to Sam already silently knowing how Dean is coping,

SAM I heard what Sister Mathias was saying about, you know, hiding pain by taking on a mission, and I-I know that’s what you’re doing a little bit. And it’s okay. I mean, it’s fine. I get it. I’ve done it before, too. But… I don’t buy for one second that the mark is a terminal diagnosis, so don’t go making peace with that idea. There has to be a way. There will be a way, and we will find it. That’s what we do. So, believe that.

DEAN Okay, Sammy.

SAM You want to… Uh, try that again like you mean it?

DEAN [More determined] Okay.

This was, in fact, in stream with the Hibbing 911 10.08 episode I started this with. It was a consistent stream. Take on a case, Dean feels better. Take on a case, know he’s dealing with pain by taking on a mission. Faith -- there is a way -- Dean is waffling, but at least back then, Sam could inspire sparks out of Dean in that. But now, they’re fading as quickly as they come. Hibbing 911 to Paint It Black was an 8 episode stretch and Sam had to voice it as a cover -- after a 5-episode stretch post-saving Dean(mon) to get to deciding that worked. Now -- for the better in communication -- Dean is voicing it doesn’t work anymore, and we’re only a few episodes in, 3 episodes from being brought back. It already isn’t working.

There has to be something more in the long term than fixing the immediate problem for Dean.

And Sam knows.

And that’s really what’s slaying me right now. Sam keeps trying, but every time it’s working less, they’re losing ground on Dean. Even when Dean communicates openly, it’s that the old vices simply aren’t cutting it anymore. The old fixes won’t work. They can try to race ahead to the end of the story (though it’s not the ending, it’s the journey, right?) but even stabbing Michael dead won’t fix everything. They both know that. There needs to be another remedy.

Now bounce back to his conversation with Mary. Bobby, who doesn’t know any other way to live -- who Sam recognizes the thick walls of, who he encouraged to try to get past those walls. Who’s the first person setting up their arrangements?

Mary frets. You sure she won't mind? "No," Sam eagerly expresses, hand out, "Donna says her cabin is your cabin." And Dean, one who knows too well, "Take as much time as you need."

Bobby's apology for snapping kicks in here, and Sam had already moved on from it. Bobby, like Dean, recognizes what Sam has within him for this. After that, we get down to Mary and Dean -- and everything I've talked in these posts. [x] [x] [x]

But then we fall back to Dean's conversation with Sam immediately. He keeps almost feeling like himself. Almost.

There’s nothing quite as awful -- but quite as mature -- as realizing you can’t be the end all fix all for somebody you care about. Sam is left to look back, maybe even literally in this shot, on everything within this episode, and everything behind them since at least season 10.

He can and WILL do whatever he can to make Dean’s days a little better. Frankly, I imagine that’s going to be some of the crafting in Dean partnering off with Jack a few times in upcoming episodes. There’s another answer out there, and maybe Sam won’t leap to the One Cure All solution, but it’s a way to fix-and-cope gradually, outside of his own reach, as much as that may pain him to realize.

It is entirely possible to have a deep, meaningful relationship without being codependent. Sam started this season as boldly independent despite being the more dependent brother for immediate engagement in the past. Dean’s dependency was more based on his sense of duty -- having to take care of his little brother. Sam’s was more on feeling left behind. But he’s been growing past that.

It’s not to say the brothers will throw all the papers in the air and stop caring -- not by a long shot. But the breadth of family and responsibilities have diversified into a more recognizeable human relationship -- or arrangement. I would not be at all surprised if it is Sam’s suggestion on one or both weeks to hang out with Jack. Dean never got that childhood -- maybe that will be a salve, let Dean teach Jack how to be a kid, and in the same stretch, get to be a kid himself.

This is healthy, but painful -- a new way for SPN to be exploring its characters. Well, “new”. It’s been creeping in since Dabberens really set to rock’n’rolling, but generally speaking, the old days of brothers slapping verbal bandaids ignoring the actual problem on seem to be over.

I expect there to be some minor regressions. Lifelong habits are hard to break. But similarly, doing the same thing over and over again, the same way, expecting different results is the definition of insanity -- and in their case, has only antagonized the situation. It would be so easy to yell, “Oh it’s just Dean stressed about Michael,” but no. No, Sam knows his brother more than that. Sam Knows. Sam remembers. They’ve been here before and each and every time, it’s more desperate. He can arrange for his mother to go be happy, but there’s no easy solution floating by for Dean. Or hey, maybe there is and they’re just not ready to take that path yet.

And while Dean sends Mary off like this--go, mom, be happy; I think deep down, Sam is waiting for the chance for that for Dean. Dean was his mother /and/ his father. As long as it’s some tragic ending though of somebody dying or getting trapped or any of their other histories, that will never come to pass. Which is why, really-- Sam seems so obsessed with ideas of, “Do you ever think we can stop all the bad, all the monsters?” -- Dean hangs in lament of the impossibility. But Sam wants to hope. And really, I think that’s more for his brother than for himself.

In the end, it was Never Too Late for Dean to get that beer with Lisa in 99 Problems vs Swan Song; but while Dean had theoretically patched up and moved on, Sam’s caged status didn’t exactly lend to actual peace.

The strangest thing, I think, is Sam will need to realize -- in my opinion -- his need for his own peace, before Dean ever truly is willing to move on. From The Life, from Life. What have you. Death has far been painted from being The End here, it’s just the entrapment of it all that separates and confines. They still have a purpose here -- even if it’s heavily diverted to things like, I dunno, raising Jack. It’s been Sam’s turn to be both a Mother and a Father (given more explicitly in S13, but.) It seems to have shifted his overall perspective, filling Dean’s old shoes in that way.

If this were Carver or Gamble or Kripke, I would say-- Sam has a pipe dream. It’s empty. His hopes will be crushed. There’s no way to stop the monsters and the bad. But this cage imagery haunting us is giving us our actual subversion target (given, I’ll talk that in another post.)

But this isn’t Carver or Gamble or Kripke. As Bobo says, SPN -- their SPN, this Sam and this Dean -- believe in heroism, not just tragedy. And with all the telegraphed goals hit time and again: finding someone in the life, stopping all the bad, all the monsters, breaking their cycles, cages and fencelines suffocating them -- I see fairly clearly, in my opinion at least, what Dabb intends here.

And honestly?

I’m proud of my boy. Even if it’ll take another year or so to really Come to Pass. I’m proud of him. And I think... eventually we’re going to hear that from Dean too, similarly to the 12.22 recognition of how Ready Sam was to be a leader.

#supernatural #sam winchester #brothers #sam knows #season 14 #meta #bro bond #mobby #mine #my meta #endgames

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oscopelabs · 5 years

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Paris sans Agnès by Andrew Lapin

It was morning in Paris when news of Agnès Varda’s death reached the world. On a hunch, I left the apartment I shared with my girlfriend in the city’s 5th arrondissement and walked the 30 minutes, past the hordes of tourists cramming into the skull-stacked Paris Catacombs, to reach Rue Daguerre in the Montparnasse neighborhood, where Varda had lived since 1951.

This is where Varda and her husband, fellow French New Wave filmmaker Jacques Demy, had purchased a derelict pink storefront and turned it into the production house Tamaris Films, later renamed Ciné-Tamaris, so they could produce Varda’s first film La Pointe Courte in 1954. The pair moved into the tucked-away apartment/studio complex and quickly became fixtures of the neighborhood, spreading art, whimsy, and cats around their tiny world (although the building’s exterior remained in poor shape, with paint perpetually peeling and the roof leaking). For the next nearly seven decades, Varda sightings on Rue Daguerre were an everyday occurrence: “the funny little woman in the red-and-white hair,” as one Parisian described her to me. It was fitting that Varda had inherited the spirit of this street from its original namesake Louis Daguerre: inventor of the daguerreotype, the first commercially available form of photographic imagery and the predecessor to the medium that Varda changed forever.

So Ciné-Tamaris seemed like the natural spot for a spontaneous Varda memorial. I arrived around 2:30 and a small crowd was beginning to gather, much of them reporters like myself, prowling the block for grieving soundbites. Flowers and handwritten notes already lined the sidewalk. Occasionally someone, usually a woman, would gingerly approach the display bearing flowers of their own; the person would pace along the length of the building for a few minutes, searching for the ideal spot, and then kneel down to place their offering among the others, so that it was visible but not too ostentatious.

Sometimes a person would reach the entrance of Varda’s sacred place and, instead of leaving flowers, ring the doorbell; immediately a young man or woman would answer the door, size up the greeter to determine if they were a close relation, and then beckon them inside, and you could make out just a glimpse of the entryway, the same one that all the lucky folks who interviewed Varda here over the years love to describe, with the prowling cats and the assorted found objects and the maze of different rooms connected by that entryway.

Others were drawn to the crowd but didn’t know what had brought us all here. “What’s going on?” one man asked me, and I answered that Agnès Varda had died. He gave a blank look; no idea who that was. I tried to explain, with my horrible French, that she was a famous Nouvelle Vague filmmaker, one of the last of her generation, but this too prompted no reaction. So I named the first title that came to my mind, which also seemed the most likely one for a Frenchman unfamiliar with the Nouvelle Vague to have seen – “Visages Villages” (Faces Places), the quirky 2017 documentary she had made with the muralist JR, in which the two had toured the countryside making art installations out of the folks they met in small French towns. It was a surprise worldwide hit, although it divided hardcore cinephiles I knew, some of whom thought the film was too cutesy and JR too posturing. At any rate, the man didn’t recognize the name. But he solemnly nodded all the same, to show he recognized someone monumental had passed, and that seemed enough, and he went on.

JR, as it happened, was presenting a massive new art installation at the Louvre that weekend. He’d covered the entire expanse of the museum’s outdoor Pyramide structure with his trademark screen-printed tarp to create an optical illusion of it rising out of a deep ravine. The effect was short-lived. Within 24 hours the tarp was being ripped up, both intentionally and not, by tourists, reminiscent of the scene in Faces Places where JR pastes a photo of Varda’s friend Guy Bourdin onto the side of a beach bunker and the tide washes it away.

Unlike her very young cohort, who often creates tactile public displays he knows will fade from view in short time, Varda herself was committed to something like the opposite: using her camera to make impermanent things permanent, to capture unusual people and their dissonant dreams on film before they faded away for good.

***

Another passerby, an older woman, was a longtime neighbor of Varda, having lived on Rue Daguerre for decades. She would see the filmmaker around all the time, she said. She most fondly recalled Varda’s 1975 documentary Daguerréotypes, in which she wandered her own street interviewing various shopkeepers and artisans, with a camera and microphone tethered back to her own house. Varda was interested in not only what these folks did for a living, but also what brought them to Paris and what they dreamt about at night. It was the ultimate “good neighbor” act, and also a convenient way for Varda to try to keep up her filmmaking output while raising young children at home.

The artisans of the type Varda profiled 44 years ago—the perfume maker, the magician, the accordion seller—have all but vanished from Rue Daguerre. And though Daguerréotypes never deviates from its pleasantly curious tone to reflect on their vanishing ranks, Varda seemed to be aware even when she was making the film that they were not long for this world. The artisan was a dying, hopelessly outclassed breed in Paris, a city that’s embraced mass-market goods and priced-out real estate like any other. Perhaps, as many critics smarter than I have noted, Varda saw a kinship in her neighbors because she, too, had devoted her life to a craft with no obvious commercial future, one that struck many outside observers as fundamentally useless.

Of all the commerce on the street today, including a comics vendor and a vegan bakery, I honed in on the most Daguerréotypes-like operation: a tiny frame shop with chipped, weathered exteriors, run by an older woman who kept the front door locked even during business hours. She opened the door for me, but when I asked her if she’d ever heard of Agnès Varda, she gave me the same blank look the man on the street had. “No, sorry,” she said, and shut it again.

Yet there was hope that Varda’s impact will be felt on generations of creative people to come. A young Parisian film student named Valentine brought a carton of seven potatoes to her house. Bending down, Valentine took out a Sharpie and scrawled one letter on each vegetable: “A-G-N-È-S.” She drew a heart on a sixth potato and laid it on top of the others, carefully propping up this tableau in the carton against the wall. The seventh potato was already shaped like a heart, and this one she let stand on its own.

Valentine had been sobbing as she did her work, but she soon grew excited to explain what she’d done. The potatoes, she said, were a tribute to Varda’s 2000 documentary The Gleaners and I, which was the first of her films that Valentine had seen and the one that made her want to make her own. In the movie, Varda had befriended various gleaners across the French countryside, communities of people who scoop up the leftover yield of a crop once it’s been abandoned by the commercial harvesters. More gleaners prowl urban centers looking for discarded food, clothes, and other scraps of life.

A rubber boots-clad dumpster diver proclaims people are “stupid” for throwing so much food away, but Varda’s never been the type to shame an audience. She’s content to open herself up to her subjects’ experiences, to glean what she can from their lives as well as her own (when she trains the camera on her own wrinkled hands and ponders the strangeness of having lived in her skin for so long). There’s a scene where Varda, delighted, gleans her own heart-shaped potatoes and holds them up for the camera: objects which no one else wanted, but which she has endowed with new purpose and clarity. After that film, “my little potato” became a common expression among the Varda family.

All three ethnographies came at very different stages of Varda’s life. She made Daguerréotypes at age 46, Gleaners at 71, Faces Places at 88. But they all concerned Varda’s efforts to ingratiate herself among the people of France, to learn more about life in her country outside of film circles. She was certainly an accomplished crafter of narrative films, as well, but it was with this unplanned trilogy that she enriched her deep bond with fans and ensured her own immortality in the French popular imagination. Besides the obvious fact of Varda’s gender, the strength she derived from simply being around other people might be what most distinguished her from Nouvelle Vague contemporaries like Godard and Truffaut, who only care(d) about the outside world inasmuch as it could be related back to their own vision of cinema. (And in Godard’s case, if that final passage of Faces Places is to be believed, the last one of the originals left standing has become impenetrable to even his oldest friends.)

Varda was 90 when she died, and much of her output at least since Gleaners centered in one way or another on her own impending death. Hell, as far back as 1962’s Cléo From 5 to 7, which centers on a pop star who awaits a possible terminal diagnosis, death and its effect on the everyday has been a major theme of her work. Thus, most of the gleaners now gathering at her residence were in agreement that today’s news, though heartbreaking, did not come as a surprise. But it did surprise Valentine. “I just saw her last week,” she said. Varda had attended the Paris premiere of her last feature, the career retrospective Varda par Agnès, and Valentine’s film class had been there to see her. The film had held its world premiere at this year’s Berlinale in February, perhaps because Varda knew even then she wouldn’t have made it all the way to Cannes in May.

How did she seem, I asked. “She looked very… tired,” one of Valentine’s friends volunteered. And now, a week later, she was gone. “I thought she was eternal,” Valentine said, shaking her head as though she knew how ridiculous that sounded. “I just wanted to thank her, I guess.”

***

Montparnasse Cemetery is situated just a few blocks north of Rue Daguerre, the final gathering spot of the French intellectual elite. Charles Baudelaire, Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir are all buried here. Varda is now here, too, buried alongside Demy, as per her wishes. Their headstone now reads “Famille Demy-Varda.” It’s topped with a collection of sunflowers, another crop of significance to Varda: her 1964 drama Le Bonheur had a sunflower motif, and one of her final art projects was “The Greenhouse of Happiness,” in which she constructed a shack out of 35mm prints of the film and placed fake sunflowers within it.

The gravesite is absolutely choking on flowers, notes, and trinkets. Bouquets hail from the French elite film school La Fémis, cinema giant MK2, various museums, the Paris mayor’s office. Another from the modern tradespeople of Rue Daguerre – today’s daguerreotypes, inspired by her portraits of yesterday’s. The love is so massive it has overflown the cemetery. On a stretch of road just over the wall, the Varda grandchildren had painted every sidewalk post on the block – more than 100 – with her trademark red-and-white bob.

And along the headstone, a ring of potatoes. Varda’s harvest is over. Now it’s time to glean.

#Agnes Varda #paris #filmmaker #film director #french new wave #nouvelle vague #jacques demy #faces places #jr #cleo from 5 to 7 #Daguerréotypes #oscilloscope #oscilloscope laboratories #o-scope labs #film writing #musings #film essay

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poorreputation · 5 years

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SPN 14X07 Notes: Unhuman Nature

Usual disclaimer: You liked this episode? It’s character portrayals? It’s plot points? Good on you. My post is not meant take any of that away. You like what you like, and I will properly tag any wank I have so you can be on your merry way.

This here will be a very negative post, mostly centered around Buckleming’s trademarked terrible writing, so you’ve been warned.

Spoilers and bullshit below the cut:

If you wish to comment @evvvissticante

The intro may have been lengthy, but I will be dedicating as few words as possible to Buckleming’s writing. You want a deeper take on anything I mention, let me know.

First off, the hospital segment was completely redundant. We got the same info from Rowena that we got from the human doctor, only the former’s diagnosis was far more informative than the latter.

Also, for the amount of fake IDs TFW have in their possession, and the many times they’ve been hospitalized, and yet still prepared to give the info the nurses need for check-in, I see no reason why they’d be stumped here, or so ill-prepared. The moment Jack became human, they should’ve had a game plan in the event he got so sick/hurt that nothing at the bunker could help him. Cas’ Grace not working should have been an indicator that they were dealing with something humans can’t solve.

We could’ve used these precious few minutes on something else, like Jack, in his few moments of consciousness, telling all three of his Dads how long he’d been sick. That’s right, no one ever asks this, even when Jack’s awake long enough to drive Baby and go fishing.

Speaking of Jack, he’s so one-note in this episode, and already accepting of his fate, that it makes a lot of what he has to say... predictable.

Let me explain: you know those period pieces with a big cast, but there’s this one pure, optimistic character, who contracts TB, or as it’s “romantically” portrayed, consumption?

They’re all “Don’t worry about me, friend, if it’s my time, then so be it!” As the lighting’s all soft on their pale skin, and they’re in an over-sized bed, otherwise resting in comfort, and we’re only reminded they’re dying because they cough every now and then? And when they kick it, they look like they’re just sleeping? That’s Jack, in presentation and execution, throughout the entire episode. But, see, compare that to how Jack acted in 14X06; sassy, eager to experience life, not giving a fuck to how uncomfortable he made Dean, and most importantly, wanting to save whoever’s in trouble, no matter what. Coming up with outside-the-box solutions to their problems, like with the cursed necklace even earlier in the season.

Then in 14X07, he just gives up on himself. And not in a way that makes it seem like he hates himself, but that he’s okay with his fate.

We get no scene of regret, or frustration, anger that his life’s being cut so short. Just, acceptance with his ‘consumption’. No layered emotions, that do justice to his complex character. It’s so milk-toast, considering it’s Supernatural.

Now, the Nick scenes. One, I hate where they’ve taken his character. And, I know they’re only doing it to set up tension with, “Oh, if this happened to Nick, what will happen to Dean!1!1″ That, and a piss-poor excuse to bring back Lucifer, which, say it with me: “negates all of Dean’s actions in 13X23″. Two, if it’s Lucifer we saw in the empty, why does he have a human skeleton? Why? Why.

Three, WHY. ARE. WE. BRINGING. BACK. LUCIFER.

Finally (maybe), the plot hole of Rowena not knowing who Jack is. Despite taunting about how TFW’s more of Jack’s father(s) than Lucifer ever will ever be.

In an episode written by Buckleming.

Remember how I whined about Buckleming ignoring all of TFW’s experience with committing fraud? Well, I shouldn’t be surprised, considering they forget the shit they write.

That’s all I can think of for now, if you wanna bring up something I didn’t, or want to expand my opinions on something I mentioned above, feel free to. To keep this from ending on a sour note, let me list the things I liked:

TFW being Worried Dads.

Dean showing Jack how to drive.

Cas first giving Jack his coat, and then offering up his Grace.

That the episode eventually ended.

#SPN #14X07 #Unhuman Nature #Buckleming #Fuck Buckleming #fuck off buckleming #negative take #notes #S14 #S14 spoilers

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