#was there maybe just maybe the real beckys memories in there trying to find a way to save him?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sharonisthebettercarter · 27 days

Note

Slipknot Vermillion Butchlander.

FUCK. YES.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHH~<3<3<3 buckle in buckle in y'all cause this about to be a DOOZY<3!!

songs if ya hadn't heard them~<3 (def give them a listen, pt.2 is like an acoustic version, both lovely~<3, same general themes tho different vibes which-- ;))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

youtube

anywho~<3

FIRST OF ALL. YES. absolutable~<3

you beautiful beautiful little monster, this is PERFECT. okay, okay, yes, i'm getting too excited lmao. BUTT--

"I won't let this build up inside a me--"

this is an absolutely perfect opportunity for a deep dive into billy's psyche, psychosis, and an incredible exploration of psychological horror~<3

and it starts~?

with a *married* butchlander<3<3<3 OOH~<3!! (altho fair to use for for other ships with butcher, just doesn't get to the same level of psychological turmoil from the whole *husband is the villain* thing--;)))))))))) ANYWHO<3

basically butcher and homie are in a loving, *healthy* relationship. john is a good husband. maybe they even have ryan<3 or a little baby in billy's belly on the way<3<3<3 (or both~! lmao, always gotta throw that in-- ;))))))))))) a/b/o always an option, trans/intersex billy too, the world is the oyster~<3 any explanation like homie can just knock dudes up i guess lmfao--maybe that was the start-- :O ;)))))))) anyway, everything's perfect--except...

billy's having a bit of psychological... trouble. in which for some reason, his brain seems to be fabricating an entire reality with a loving and perfect wife, becca/becky--where his husband is the villain who tore them apart... and the situation in turn... starts to drive him and john apart...

and at first, of course, they'd be managing, between medications, care, brain scans, billy having nightmares and dreams, john trying to help, fighting and screaming, moments homie would have to hold billy down because he's having a meltdown, john having all the proof to keep billy from going nuclear/make it clear that he's... unwell, and that he's there for billy. maybe even a dna test to show that ryan is *theirs* and no one else's if a baby still in billy ain't enough--

but trust is wavering.

OOH, exploration into billy falling down that rabbit hole and believing it so much, he makes an effort to investigate and run away while homie always comes to get him/find him, drag him back home--and always *always*, refuse to hurt him even while billy is at his worst trying to force his hand, maybe even asking john to kill him so this doesn't continue--and again, his husband refusing.

now here's the kicker<3<3<3

this story could be done in two main ways (with expansive variations~<3, 3 if you count the middle road<3<3<3)

OOH! but before i dive into that, i should also mention that billy potentially being the *villain* in his own mind--in which he kidnaps and tortures and holds captive this *perfect* woman while john is none the wiser--ooooooohhhhhh... we'll come back to that one~<3 ;)

back on *john* being the villain in billy's mind.

"she isn't real. I can't make her real--"

and there in lies the *question*...

whether or not billy *is* experiencing psychosis and john is *actually* the villain, is it's own exploration~<3<3<3. depending on which version (regular or pt. 2), you channel the vibes of lmao

pt. 2 def feels like it could be more of a tragic rendition of this idea, where billy really *is* experiencing psychosis and john *is* a loving husband who *is* trying to help and care for billy<3

but the original...? mmm. let's just say there could be various... hints of a completely manipulated world around them--signs of a world *rewritten* or people silenced ,sides to john that he never *ever* shows to billy. certain... *things* that would certainly *imply* he is the *monster* billy's mind has made him--maybe it's billy's real memories trying to spill through whatever homelander did to him-- ;))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

mmmmmhmmmm~<3<3<3

BUTT, my personal fave?

*open. ended*

in which... there are... hints that might suggest one is true, and then the other, or even elements of both, but there's never truly an answer given... OOOH<3 FUCK YES. OOF, just the IDEA def gets me lol

i do feel the songs lean towards the 'she isn't real' factor (for obvious reasons lol) but for a fic~? ;))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

for variation in that exploration (and maybe an easy way to dig into the open ended vibes, but with a twisty lean~<3), maybe *most* of the 'hints' implicate one way with extremely *vague* BLINK AND YOU MISS IT hints for the *other* end, and one very *strong* hint/scene that ties together all the *vague* hints and makes them... impossible to ignore~<3

gawd i love psychological horror<3<3<3 lmao can you tell?

NOW. what about *billy* being the villain~<3?

OOOOHHHHHHH!!! now *that* one has some *real* hard potential for gut wrenching love from john<3<3<3 (i should also mention, *def* an option for psychosis with *john* there and OOF gotta stop giving myself expansions into this but it's just so FUCKING GOOD, LISTEN TO THE SONGS DAMMIT AND FEEL INSPIRED--)

similar enough deal, except with billy believing he's committed these horrible crimes to an innocent woman, a wonder of it might have been real or not and john trying to be by his side and settle his mind--and of course, the potential for a seriously covered up horrific crime because john's not about to lose his husband *for any reason*<3<3<3

maybe billy believes he committed the crime when it was really john and they covered it up together but billy--

this of course works just as lovely for the *canon compliant* show option with *john* feeling the full brunt of his psychosis--and billy trying to cover it up... *OR*... did it really happen at all? is billy right, is ryan really *their* son and there was no becky/becca?

;)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

oh i know i am absolutely TERRIBLE I KNOW-- but listen. LISTEEEENNNN... I FUCKING LOVE PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR, OKAY!?!?!

anywho~<3

there's also an element of serious *danger* involved with homie being the one to experience psychosis (powers and all, def one with billy too but not nearly as savage--unless a course ya give him powers too<3), especially if homie *convinces* himself that he *is* this *monster*, and therefore *must* act as this monster.

ooh, def some dives into comics themes but it go a little somethin'... like this:

"i think, therefore i am" or cogito, ergo sum (heeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyy that's a title if i ever done seen one for this one lmfao only if 'vermillion' isn't used i guess, alternatively 'cinnabar'<3)

and

"i can, therefore i must"

but the comics actually have a perfect set up for this too--OOH! it kinda goes back to that 'detective husbands' prompt lmao (expect a little different obviously) where instead of being a 'convinced i'm right when i'm wrong' dickwad billy or even *homie knows he didn't do it* (he would have to be on that edge of sanity/not know for sure for this one to work<3) we have a billy who actually legit *explores* and *investigates* what happened to becky because he *sees* that things don't add up *before* he starts actively making it worse. instead doing his own *solo* detective work~<3

maybe even stalking, meeting, getting to know homelander (*john*) personally. possibly even with the motive of finding his weakness, etc. and then tripping and landing on his dick and falling in love along the way~<3<3<3

lmao could be that billy even *abandons* the boys to get to the bottom of what really happened-- but also cause he ends up knocked up after realizing homie *was not* in fact the culprit<3<3<3

do feel the homie versions (show or comics) would deal less with the 'vermillion' vibes or i guess less chance for *open ended* horror themes, and more of a cut clean *he did it/he didn't do it* and is losing his mind sorta feel. in a sense, *becky* def *wouldn't* be real for comics homie because they never actually interacted (while the show version could be actively trying to remember her/struggling with who he *used* to be--OOH!! jason blood is def a place to look for inspo there~<3), so the tie in could be *exquisite* for sure, but it def is a slightly different feel lol

honestly might consider writing the comics/vermillion themed one (at some point, i have promised myself to other shit), it would explore billy instead of using homie as an excuse to be his worst self, homie becoming billy's excuse to hold onto what becky actually wanted for him/turn homie good (which is cute and sad in it's own way but could be SO fucking precious<3) and that would be some GOOD shit<3<3<3

FUCK! this is probably gonna build up inside a me i--

8 notes · View notes

jamdoughnutmagician · 1 year

Text

10 characters, 10 fandoms, 10 tags

The lovely @bookshelfdreams tagged me (thanks for the tag!) to do this, and while I can't guarantee this will be a coherent list of characters (and reasons why I like them!) hopefully this will help at least make for interesting reading, if not some very un-hinged thoughts at the very least 🤷‍♀️

Rose Tyler (Doctor Who)

Rose was one of my earliest memories of being obsessed with a character. I started watching Doctor Who in about 2006/during season 2 (I would have been about 8/maybe 9 years old at the time) so I missed her initial introduction in season 1, but I went back and rewatched her stuff with the ninth doctor and I just absolutely loved how she was just an ordinary working class girl who wanted to go on adventures (of course I didn't understand that this was the reason why I loved her so much as a kid but yeah..)

Bucky Barnes (MCU)

Look, I know we all have our opinions/ and criticisms on the mcu (which I totally understand) but there was just something about Bucky that I gravitated towards (Probably because I found Sebastian Stan attractive, but I digress.) A young boy who was willingly wanting to go fight in the war to defend his country and then ending up going through arguably the worst kind of trauma that someone could go through. Then to see his journey and story progress through the years, for me, has been a real treat to watch.

Eddie Munson (Stranger Things)

Eddie became a very quick favourite of mine in such a short space of time (partly to Joseph Quinn playing him brilliantly) but I just loved how his character COULD have been this dark, brooding, misunderstood teen, but he was ACTUALLY a very sweet and warm character, despite what everyone else thought of him. He was just a funky little metal-head D&D nerd, and I loved him for that. I just really need him back for series 5 Please!!

Orla McCool (Derry Girls)

Again, Orla was just someone I gravitated towards, I can't quite put my finger on why, I just really liked her giddy optimism and strange but sweet outlook on things!

Harley Quinn (DCEU) is that what it's called sorry idk about these things! 🤦‍♀️

Margot Robbie's Harley Quinn is very special to me (Especially in her post Suicide Squad era) because she's outlandish and wacky, but also incredibly smart and quick. I'd read a handful of Harley comics and I just think she's really cool.

Elphaba Thropp (Wicked The Musical)

I can't really speak too much about her novel version because I haven't read enough of the book to form an opinion, but stage Elphaba has my entire heart. She's unapologetic in standing up for what she believes in and fighting what she believes is right, and I admire that about her.

Mabel Mora (Only Murders in the Building)

More so I love her relationship between Oliver and Charles, but Mabel's willingness to get stuck in and try to help to solve murders alongside her two slightly older friends was a very interesting dynamic to watch! Also I would kill to have her outfits because girls got style.

Gina Linetti (Brooklyn Nine-Nine)

How could you not love the absolute self-confidence and bravado of Gina Linetti! She was as will forever be the most <3

Tecna (Winx Club)

Although I sat through both seasons of that bad neflix adaptation, nothing compares to the original cartoon in my eyes (at least the first 4 seasons anyway.) I think it has something to do with how it captured my attention as a kid because the idea of pretty fairies to me as a child was very appealing! I think (although the whole group had their own merits) Tecna was my favourite even just from a character design standpoint.

Becky Lynch (WWE)

I don't know if this technically counts since she's a real person, and considering I haven't watched WWE for a while but Becky's in-ring persona, was always a fascinating and exciting watch for me! Especially finding her feet as 'Becky-Two-Belts' and her being 'The Man', she was strong, powerful and for a long time under-rated as a performer, but I loved her so so much!

Tagging (sorry I'm not tagging 10 people, also don't feel like you have to do this at all!)

@the-odd-aardvadillo @unlimiteddream90 @lucyferchrist @ndj-blogs @smute @pherre @amidalasweets @theravensdreamer

#Tagged #jammy blogs

5 notes · View notes

nightingaelic · 3 years

Note

Not a good idea, maybe, but still... NV Followers' reaction to how the Courier tells the follower that sometimes all their adventures seem like a kind of deathbed dream to them (a bullet in the head after all...)

Just know, anon, that I am strongly resisting the urge to go full Shane Madej and Ryan Bergara with every single one of these reactions.

"Maybe this is all just... me." The courier waved their hand through the scorching air, tracing the shimmering line of the horizon that sang false promises of water. "A mirage. An oasis in the desert that I can't quite reach, but my eyes keep telling me is there if I just walk far enough."

Their hand went to the scar on their forehead. "I don't know. The things I've seen, since Goodsprings... if I told them to half the people in the Mojave, they'd toss me in the same shack as No-bark. HELIOS One? The Burned Man, in the crispy flesh? Jason Bright and his followers? Hell, the Sierra Madre? How do I know I didn't actually bite the dust in that graveyard, and all of this is the work of the bullet Benny put in my noggin?"

Arcade Gannon: "I guess there isn't a very convincing way I can answer that question," Arcade admitted. "But the fact that I know exactly how close you came to dying could be some evidence to the contrary. I doubt you were walking around with much medical knowledge about cranial vulnus sclopetarium prior to encountering it firsthand."

The courier looked somewhat interested, so the researcher continued hesitantly. "Did that doctor who checked you out not explain what happened to your brain? It's honestly a miracle that you're still walking around."

"I might've been a little preoccupied with the shock of being awake," the courier admitted. "Here, show me."

They guided Arcade's hand to the wound site, which he felt gingerly, trying not to awaken any pain. "Okay, close, very close range, left side... trajectory was too high, so it missed the speech center... probably sustained the most damage in the frontal and parietal lobes... well that tracks, that would affect problem-solving skills and spatial relationships..."

"Arcade?"

"Mm-hm?"

The courier grinned. "Just keep talking to me in Latin and I'll stop caring whether I'm dead or not. It sounds nice."

Arcade blushed.

Craig Boone: "Mmm." Boone pondered the thought, but immediately felt the shadow of guilt fall over his shoulders. Had any of his targets felt that way as they lay dying? Had Carla? He tried to shake the feeling off before it reached his face.

The courier, for their part, didn't notice, or at least knew enough to pretend not to notice. "That snake Benny was using a handgun, too, and who knows what caliber," they said, looking off into the distance.

"Low," Boone offered.

"Come again?"

"The bullet," Boone clarified. "It's still in your head. Slow and small caliber, if you're not already dead from it."

"But I could already be dead from it."

"Nah."

The courier looked as though they wanted to probe further, but Boone straightened his sunglasses and walked past them, signaling that the conversation was over. Headshot wounds, hypotheticals, they weren't his strong suit, but he did know one thing: The orders he had followed and the lives he had ended were far too real to be the figment of some Mojave wastelander's imagination.

Lily Bowen: "Come now, dearie, you're giving your imagination too much credit." Lily patted the courier lightly on the shoulder. Well, as lightly as a nightkin could. "Grandma's seen many strange things too, ever since she left the vault behind."

The courier smiled. "Stranger than the ones I've seen? Like what?"

Lily made an ugly face. "I saw many things when working for the Master. Golden geckos in Klamath. Ghosts in Baja. The Master himself, with his brain in the computers and the computers in his brain."

"Eugh." The courier mimicked the face Lily was making. "One of those, huh? Always seemed unsanitary to me."

"Good things too," Lily went on wistfully. "I saw Marcus' first city, when it was big and full of people. Humans, but also super mutants, ghouls. How I would have liked to take Becky and Jimmy there."

Her voice faltered a little, remembering the grandchildren that had been lost, left behind long ago. The courier reached out and took her hand. "I'm here, Lily."

After the memory passed, Lily returned to her smiling self. "You are, pumpkin. We're here together."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "I know how you feel, boss." Raul sighed. "There are plenty of things in my past that I can't help but question the authenticity of. All I can say is that after a while, you stop asking and just go along for the ride."

"Right." The courier crossed their arms. "I suppose it's not that different a mindset from becoming a ghoul. Time stretching on in front of you, no clear end in sight, no expectation there will ever be one."

"Eh." Raul shrugged. "That might just be a mindset of mine. I stopped worrying about dying a long time ago. Or maybe I was looking for it, but never managed to find it. Either way, time doesn't bother me the way it used to."

"But it still does?"

"Sí. Now I worry more that I'll forget the crazy things I've seen altogether, or that they don't mean anything."

The young courier looked like they weren't quite ready to ponder that possibility. They stood together in silence for a while, watching the horizon's haze.

"Should we keep going?" the courier finally asked, shouldering their pack.

"Desde luego."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Sometimes I wonder the same thing," Cass replied with a nod. "Well, not the exact same thing, but somethin' similar. Plenty of times in my life, I've woken up in someone else's bed or on the floor of a bar and wondered if I actually survived the fight I was in the night before, or if I finally drank enough to make my heart stop. It's a strange feeling, but then someone douses me in water or slaps me too hard on the ass and the pain of the wakin' world creeps back in, little by little."

"Do you slap them back?" the courier joked, chuckling.

"Them and the world," Cass confirmed. "I always figured if I'd actually died in my sleep, why bother makin' up some desert full of sadness and sunburns to fill my time? Had enough of that in life, so I can't see my mind keepin' it around. Much rather conjure up a house by the beach somewhere, with a basement full of caps and enough booze to last me 'til the bombs fall again."

The courier eyed her mischievously. "Maybe you're in hell."

Cass held her canteen up. "Well then. To bein' stuck in hell with a true friend."

She drank, long and deep, and the courier retrieved their canteen to do the same.

Veronica Santangelo: "Oh, Six." Veronica's face filled with sympathy. "Is that really what you think about, when you're trying to sleep at night in the casino and Cass is snoring in the bed next to you?"

The courier blinked. "Cass snores?"

"How have you not noticed?" Veronica pulled her power fist off and flexed her fingers, re-stimulating her circulation as best she could. "Arcade said he wanted to trade with me, after Boone had his second night terror incident, but he changed his mind again after one night of her racket. At this point, I'm used to it. When she's not around, I have trouble sleeping, can you believe that? Brotherhood bunks really prepared me for the Lucky 38."

"No, I hadn't noticed." The courier sat down on a nearby rock and stretched their legs out. "I guess I haven't been there much, lately."

Veronica sat down next to them. "You know, the more often you're gone having adventures around the desert, the more crazy things you're going to see. People who rest on their laurels and stick to the Strip don't lie awake wondering if they actually died back when they choked on those buffalo gourd seeds at The Gourmand."

"Touché."

ED-E: The eyebot let out a few beeps of disagreement and rolled from side to side in mid-air, indicating as best it could that in its experience, being shot in the dome was a good method for scrambling circuitry but was actually terrible for fusing new connections. The courier laughed and reached out to rub the robot's side. "Thanks, buddy. Maybe I'm right, or maybe reality is just a weird place."

ED-E beeped its satisfaction and bounced forward as if chasing the mirage. The courier trailed after the eyebot, their giggles blowing out with the wind into the desert for all to hear.

Rex: The old cyberdog whined and licked its companion's hand, uncertain what they were asking. Any dreams the canine had were good ones, long runs over grassy plains and prey that was always a hair too slow. Life with the courier was good too, but full of many more dangers than a savannah dotted with rabbits and deer. The courier scratched the dog on his ruff affectionately, before continuing over the hot sand toward their destination. Rex followed behind, happy and panting.

177 notes · View notes

mittensmorgul · 3 years

Note

it’s a bummer to see you can’t enjoy the ending. I hope someday you can come around it it. It wasn’t perfect but it didn’t nuke its integrity. i think the heart of the show really shines through and it’s a shame that it’s not being appreciated bc there’s so much shipping drama 😣

Hi there!

I... first of, I really need people to understand this... the travesty of the finale for me has almost nothing to do with “shipping drama.”

Yes, I see the wild conspiracy theories flying around, and I’m honestly concerned for some of those folks and hope they can find a way to make peace with this in whatever way they can, because we aren’t likely to ever get a better answer than that this is legitimately the ending that Dabb thought was best, despite years of us seeing the best of his writing choices and guiding Sam, Dean, and Cas to grow past the roles that Chuck would’ve forced them to fulfill, and that at the end it fell flat because he couldn’t actually come up with a better ending than “this was always their destiny, free will is a lie, and these characters had nothing outside of the revenge quest they’d been raised for since birth and manipulated into over and over for the entertainment of a vengeful god.”

I can see how “surface level” viewers would feel that this one basic narrative point was satisfying, that Sam and Dean had grown beyond their own hopeless cycle of self-sacrifice that had driven the narrative for so many years. The fact that they both acknowledged that they should allow their stories to end in that way was satisfying... but only in the shallowest and most detached read of the narrative. Like, is this really the ONLY thing these two characters learned in the last 15 years? If so, that is BEYOND depressing af.

And even THAT message lost all narrative weight when the two of them were once again reunited in death, as if nothing else had ever mattered in their lives. As if neither of them had ever outgrown the codependency that had driven so many of those previous self-sacrifices and refusals to let go of each other even in death.

So yeah, in the absolute most basic sense, I suppose I can see how casual viewers or people who aren’t actually invested in these characters could find that at least narratively coming back to a starting point.

But narratives don’t actually work that way, and that’s not the point of watching fifteen years of story develop in between.

This story wasn’t JUST about Sam and Dean needing to accept that death might be okay actually.

This story was also about free will, fighting for humanity as a whole but also their OWN humanity and self-identities. In Dean’s case, the absolutely transformative growth from feeling like nothing but a hammer, a killer, a tool to be used. And then less than an episode and a half later, after finally accepting that truth into his heart and using it to defeat the original creator and reclaim the story of his own life for himself... he gets pied in the face after flippantly talking about his destiny and having no choice, and then three scenes later he literally dies impaled on a great big nail... like a hammer...

So I would kindly ask folks who feel satisfied by that shallowest possible takeaway of this episode, and maybe invite folks to look just under that surface. Try to understand why loads of us will NEVER feel satisfied with this ending, and why it truly does feel like the most hopeless version of the story. Like even in defeating Chuck, they could never be allowed to own their own stories and what happened to them after that point was just a twisted version of the “destiny” that drove Chuck’s entire plotline for them anyway.

Please understand where we’re seeing this as horrifically painful irony rather than some beautiful circular narrative about letting go.

For a lot of us, the shipping stuff would’ve been the cherry on top of the sundae. We would’ve been happy with a scoop of plain vanilla, though. We would’ve been happy for anything that honored the journey to freedom, and the choice at any sort of a different life of their own making than literally falling back on a nail fighting off one of John’s unresolved hunts and a vampire who had literally never been named in canon before, yet who Dean instantly recognized somehow...

but sure, for those of us who felt that “the heart of the show” was all the stuff that the finale actually erased-- that “family don’t end in blood,” and that this was actually not a show about just two brothers but the love of their found family and coming to terms with the choices they actually HAD made for themselves versus the narrative that Chuck kept centering them in DESPITE what they would choose for themselves, the finale basically told us no, everything you ever found of value in this story actually meant nothing. It told us that Chuck’s story for them was their only truth in the end, and their only freedom was to be found in death.

Please, I am begging people, stop trying to gaslight us that this was some beautiful ending. Maybe think for a second that “your read” of the narrative that allows you to find peace with the ending is not what we saw and loved about this story for the 326 episodes leading up to this finale.

And please try to understand that we were not wrong to see the entire narrative through this lens. Because we were literally validated IN CANON, and told that we understood the depth of the story and the characters just fine, actually. There’s literally ONE episode of the entire series that burns it all down in a bewildering pile of wtf. And that’s #327. That throws that entire read out the window to well actually us all back into Chuck’s literal ending... This was literally the ending Chuck wanted to force them to enact for him, and it’s what ended up happening even after they defeated him-- the ultimate Big Bad of the entire series should’ve been defeated, but instead he pulled off one final victory over the entire story.

Becky: No. You can't-- Chuck: I did. Becky: Y- This is just an ending. Chuck: Yeah. I don't know how I'm gonna get there, but I know where I'm goin'. Becky: B-But it's so... dark. Chuck: But great, right? I can see it now -- "Supernatural: The End". And the cover is just a gravestone that says "Winchester". The fans are gonna love it. Well? Becky: It's awful! Horrible. It's hopeless. You can't do this to the fans. What you did to Dean? What you did to Sam? Chuck: There, see? It's making you feel something. That's good, right?

and

Dean: Well, what now? You're not gonna dust us. Chuck: Oh, yeah? Why not? Dean: Because you're holding out. For your big finish. Yeah, we know about your galaxy-brained idea, how you think this story is gonna go. Sam got a little look into your draft folder. Chuck: Sam's visions -- they weren't drafts. They were memories. My memories. Other Sams and other Deans in other worlds. But guess what. Just like you, they didn't think they'd do it, either. But they did. And you will, too. Dean: No. Not this Sam. And not this Dean. So you go back to Earth 2 and play with your other toys. Because we will never give you the ending that you want. Chuck: We'll see.

And even in DEFEAT Chuck thought he understood these characters, thought that having rendered him powerless they would finally take their revenge and kill him, but they didn’t, because he never actually understood these characters at all. And the story he tried to force them into from day one was never about THEM, it was about HIM.

And then Dean gets like two whole days of freedom and choice and is apparently incapable of making any of the choices that don’t throw him immediately back into Chuck’s favorite story. Like none of that resolution in the previous episode meant anything at all. He even SAYS it in the finale:

Dean: Yeah, no. I think about 'em, too. You know what? That pain's not gonna go away. Right? But if we don't keep living, then all that sacrifice is gonna be for nothing.

And then two scenes later the show gives us the Nelson Muntz HA HA and Dean is no longer living, and Sam is left to carry on as a shell of himself and wander off into Blurry Wife Land to devote any even remotely content moment of the rest of his years to raising a Replacement Dean to fill the void, and is never able to pick up the pen to write anything better of his own life than Chuck would’ve dealt him in the first place.

So I’m glad that top-layer takeaway is sustaining and enough for you. It wasn’t, and will never be enough for the rest of us.

What was actually real in all of this? We were.

Until we weren’t.

And that’s honestly a shit message to be pushing on people in the wake of it all. So please stop.

I should actually thank you for the kind intent with which your message is phrased, but that doesn’t make it feel less hilariously awful. Though I chose this one to reply to as the least insulting of all the messages currently in my inbox on this subject. So thanks for that, at least.

#spn 15.20 #aka that one episode of supernatural that doesn't really exist #because you either get to have the first 326 or the finale #they're literally narratively incompatible in all but the shallowest possible takeaway here #i chose the other 326 because those are where the actual heart of the show lies #it was set on fire and buried in 327 #Anonymous

451 notes · View notes

kaypeace21 · 3 years

Text

Stranger things is about mental health & trauma- deal with it!

I’ve seen a lot of people claim anyone who mentioned this topic immediately be gaslit and told they’re “just crazy” and “rudely projecting their own issues on to the characters.’ Like- no you don’t have to believe my Will DID/Lonnie theory ( I could be wrong). But to claim one of the show’s central themes isn’t about mental health/trauma (screams either complete lack of lit comprehension or denial cause you have your own negative biases towards such people). So let’s just go into what’s literal text-not subtext/symbolism. Just the super blatant stuff. RIGHT IN THE SHOW!

-We have El when she first appears on screen asked by Benny if her parents starved and hurt her and if that’s why she ran away. Benny then calls CPS to say El “may have been ab*sed or something.” After this Lucas says there is “seriously something wrong with her-wrong in the head. She’s probably from the NUT-HOUSE in curly county.penthurst” We also see El cannonically has PTSD-all of s1 she’ll see something benign (a cat, a coke commercial, a closet) and is triggered to see a traumatic flashback. That’s literally ptsd. There’s also hints throughout the seasons she’s developmentally behind in both language, telling time etc (neglect like El’s irl can cause an intellectual disability-analysis on El/that subject here).The real pethurst in pensylvannia (not the one in stranger things/ Curly county) closed in 1986- it was a facility for people and mostly kids with intellectual disabilities (it wasn’t technically a psych facility like the one in st)-but it was infamous for it’s abuse of these intellectually disabled patients kept there. We also have Brenner be a ab*sive psychiatrist.

- Hopper after suffering from the loss of his daughter. Is popping pills like candy, drinking and smoking constantly. He later says he used to hallucinate and forgot what was real -seeing and hearing sarah and says if he didn’t confront the pain he’d “fall down a black hole he couldn’t get out of.” NO... subtext here about what the void represents nope.

- Both mothers (Terry & Joyce) are dismissed as being mentally ill and simply grieving the loss of their kids . But both end up being right about the supernatural.

- “Terry pretends Jane is real. i mean it’s all make believe. you know the doctors all say it’s a coping mechanism.”

- While with Joyce the whole town pre s1 already questioned her mental health. Jonathan says “She used to have anxiety problems (pre s1).” And Jonathan, Hopper, and Lonnie all assume she’s hallucinating: talking to Will via lights, seeing a man without a face, saying Will’s body is fake -due to grief. Plus Lonnie mentions the fact Joyce’s aunt Darlene also used to hallucinate as a possible reason (terry’s aunt also had mental health issues mentioned in s2 by Becky). Lonnie even says everything Joyce is seeing is “all in her head.” Hopper and Jon both say she needs to sleep and accept reality and Lonnie says she needs to see a “shrink”. Hopper “i’m not saying that you’re crazy”. Joyce : “no, you are.” Joyce also says to Lonnie “Stop looking at me like that... like everyone else like i’m out of my damn mind.” Hopper also says about Joyce she’s “on the edge”. Callahan says in response , “she’s been on the edge for a while now” (referring to her mental health- even before Will’s dissappearance)”. While Lonnie says Jonathan is “feeding into her hallucinations ... you’re going to push her right over the edge.” In s2 Hopper says “ I think everyone is on edge- you, me, Will most of all. (when talking about Will’s ptsd/trauma)”

- in s1 They claim Will just “fell” over the edge of the quarry’s cliff. Later the only other queer coded character (Mike) jumps off the quarry cliff (where Will’s body was found) cause the homophobic troy forced him too jump. Troy even says earlier dead-Will is “flying with all the other fairies all happy and gay” (to Mike). And Troy says to Hopper El made Mike “fly” after jumping off the cliff. Friendship saved him from jumping off the edge metaphorically ( and he’ll prob eventually be happy and gay too).

s2/3

-Will is seeing a therapist . And we are told he has ptsd and will experience the anniversary effect, personality changes,nightmares, having episodes, etc. And things “will get worse before they get better”. Mike also asks if what Will is seeing is “real or like the doctors say all in your head?” And Will continues to see hallucinations of the mf/upsidedown that only he can see initially.

-Hopper also agrees with owens mentioning how he knew guys with ptsd . joyce : “it’s not like he’s describing a nightmare. He talks about them like they’re real.” Hopper: “Yeah, because they’re not nightmares they’re flashbacks.I think he’s right about trauma.I think everyone is on edge (bringing that s1 ref back), Me you, Will, most of all.Nothing’s gonna go back to the way that it was. But it’ll get better.In time.”

-Nancy suffers from survivor’s guilt and drunkingly says she killed Barb. Jonathan says like Nancy he has “a weight that you that carry all the time . i feel it too.” (cough depression). He also says he tries to be there for Will but says about Will “he’s not the same. maybe things can’t go back to the way they were. (mirroring Hopper’s words earlier that season)”

-Jonathan said in s1 Joyce had “anxiety issues” than Nancy says in s3 “you really are your mother’s son... you worry too much.” Then we see him look worried after the comment.

- in s2, Axel & a scientist both call El and Will “schizos” because of their powers. In s3 mrs driscoll isn’t believed about the supernatural cause she’s schizophrenic-but like Joyce/Terry was right.

- Kali saves a woman named Dottie (a british slang term for crazy) from a mental hospital and then compares herself and El to dottie. saying her non-powered gang is “Like us ...outsiders... society discarded them.” In graphitti we even see the title “obedlam” a british poem about discarding the mentally ill and leaving them homeless. El before this sees a mentally ill man screaming “we’re all dead!” Kali’s friend says to El, after this encounter they were “dead all of us” until kali “saved them here” (points to head) “and here” (points to heart). Pointing to the theme of love and friendship helping those with such issues. Similar to the cliff analogy.

-The cycle of ab*se. Max in s2 says she’s afraid of becoming like Billy (her ab*ser). We see Billy mimic his ab*ser neil and inflict pain on max. In s3 we see the roots of his behavior are linked to mimicking Neil- Neil in a flashback says about baseball “what are you scared?” “ did i raise a p*ssy for a son”. So young Billy later in a fight says to a boy “ what are you scared to fight me? fight me p*ssy. (as he beats the boy)” Deflecting his anger of his father on to someone else. In s3, We see as a kid he used to say to Neil “don’t hurt her” (his mom)-specifically after Neil backhand slaps her -but we later see possessed Billy backhand slap Max (just like neil). The resentment to his mother leaving - festered into how he views women and max negatively . And his attraction to mrs wheeler prob is linked to him subconsciously missing his mother. Max in s2 even says he can’t take it out on her mother so he does so to her instead (we even have Billy hallucinate hurting mrs wheeler).We see in s2 the cycle of abuse is there- Billy mimics Neil, and then Max mimics Billy. Billy harrasses Max and yells “SAY IT!” (mimicking Neil). Max like Billy later yells “SAY IT” and uses a bat /violence to stand up for herself against Billy- which earlier she said she was trying to combat … explaining she can be angry like Billy sometimes but she never wants to be like him (her nickname symbolizing this: aka ‘mad max’). Billy’s last dying words were an apology to Max- for becoming her neil. And we hopefully will see Max break this cycle.

- Will says his now memories (that he describes like dreams) are “growing “, “spreading “,and “killing”. While Kali says they need to face their father and (as Brenner) says El has to confront her “wound” or else it’ll “grow”, “spread” and “eventually it’ll kill her.” Kali says she used to be like El . She used to bottle her pain away and it “spread.” But she then says “I confronted my pain and I finally began to heal (from those wounds).” We also see with jonathan and nancy when describing “shared trauma” zoom in onto the scars on their hands. The wound heeled into a scar so to speak.

S2 & 3 ENDINGS

both have Hopper do a speech that delves into dealing with trauma/depression but still finding good along the way.

-s2 Hopper outside the snowball: “how are you holding up? Yeah, that feeling never goes away. It is true what they say, you know. Everyday it does get easier.”

-s3 Hopper monolouge : “ Feelings jesus. For so long, i’d forgotten what those even were. I’ve been stuck in one place,in a cave you might say , a deep dark cave (cough s2 supernatural cave). For the first time in a long time, i started to feel things again. I started to feel happy. Life... yeah sometimes it’s painful .sometimes it’s sad, and sometimes it’s suprising... happy.. And when life hurts you, because it will .remember the hurt . The hurt is good. It means you’re out of that cave.”

BUT YES- St has nothing to do with mental health/trauma, we’re just “crazy” and “projecting”. It’s not like some of ya’ll act pompous when you just have a bias and get pissy at the idea of relating to characters you “other” as “crazy” or “damaged” irl or anything (so attack people for pointing it out). Or (benefit of the doubt) you are just like.... oblivious... or just a kid who doesn’t know better XD

#stranger things #el hopper #will byers #jim hopper #joyce byers #max mayfield #billy hargrove #kali prasad #mike wheeler #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler

120 notes · View notes

11byers · 3 years

Note

Talk to us girl! What else do you have to say about El's arcs through the seasons and motherly love? I want to hear THIS content, f*ck all the ship wars!!

i’m so sorry this took actual months to reply to, i’m not gonna get into why just.... hi anon, ty for your patience 😭 tbh i'm not sure if i'm saying anything new, but this is almost 3k words long so hopefully i'm offering something

a few things to note before i delve into everything, bc this is a gendered topic:

el identifies w femininity, even after being raised in a lab w just a number as a name, essentially raised w/o any real gender constructs set in place, or at least not enough to understand gender fundamentally. but she identifies w femininity, as seen in the way she gravitates to feminine symbols in her surroundings. and it's interesting how her relationships w female characters are always given a bit of attention

the way fathers are portrayed on this show is... notable. we've got el's father figure brenner, as well as kali's relationship w brenner, steve's dad is apparently an asshole, ted is ted (not the worst but isn't much anyways), billy's dad been abusive his whole stay, lonnie is a danger to society, and hopper, although arguably redeemable and has been given more attention since he's a central character…… hasn't been the best all the way through. lucas' dad was p alright and dustin……… doesn't have one 🙃

meanwhile we got joyce who's the best parent in this entire show PERIOD absolutely beautiful amazing talented show-stopping etc etc, there's karen who almost slept w a minor but made a last minute decision not to (karen is a work in progress and i have a lot of thoughts about her i'm not gonna get into), dustin's mom is cute (a bit dopey but cute), lucas' mom is also cute, billy's mom is practically portrayed as an angel, and terry……… poor poor terry.

anyways there's a very clear difference.

st1

the topic of el and motherhood doesn’t really get tackled until st2, but i'm gonna go through this season by season. bc, spoiler alert, i'm fairly certain joyce will be el's mother/mother figure once the show's wrapped up. we can even say that's already happened after st3's ending, but ofc we're still in need of more personal relationship development.

basically, i believe el's relationship w motherhood, and her idea of mothers has a lot to do w joyce.

joyce is essentially el's "standard" (for lack of a better term) for what a mother is supposed to be.

someone might have to correct me on this, but i like to think that joyce is the first example of motherly love that el truly experiences (other than briefly seeing terry in the lab). not even when they first meet tho, but when the boys sneak el into the school and she "channels" will through the p.a. system.

when she hears joyce trying to comfort will and tell him to hide (which in itself messes me up bc depending on your take on the demogorgon, that shit is heart wrenching), i can only imagine what el might be thinking. what will has in joyce is completely different from what el has in brenner 😭

el's (as well as the show's tbh) view of fathers are very different from her view of mothers. fathers are demanding, ruthless, and cold. but she sees joyce, and she thinks mothers are passionate, caring, and protective, and all of that translates through a p.a. system when el hears joyce's desperation. i'm sure el sees a lot of herself in will - his fear and desperation, his terror of being in the upside down, describing it as cold and dark, just like the chamber brenner locks her in, or even the void, the water tank, her own room even - which only makes joyce's impression on her so much stronger.

and in ep7 'the bathtub' when el gets to have a one-on-one w joyce, there are certain points in that scene that parallel her and brenner, and i think that only hammers home el's idea of what mothers are and what they should be.

joyce promises her a presence. joyce is able to be there for her, comfort her, even when el is in a place like the void, that's just emptiness and darkness all around. she hears joyce's voice, and for once she's not alone. and it's nice to think she's w joyce and will in these moments, when she's in castle byers and she can act as a connection to will and joyce (a-and jonathan, sorry i don't really mention him throughout this piece, i didn't even expect to mention will this much, but jon's important too, we love a parental big brother).

it's shown how scared el can be moment to moment. the second will fades from her, she cries for him and curls up into a ball, and once she's out of the upside she latches onto joyce - and gosh the dependability!! joyce is there for her just like she promised.

this makes el meeting her own mother fuking heartbreaking.

st2

this idea of a mother sticks w el this whole time, and her idea of fathers doesn't get any better. i don't think el even pictures hopper as any kind of father figure, definitely not yet, but as a "friend," hence her shouting at him "friends don't lie". it's not until they're fighting and she shouts "you are like papa!" that it all comes full fuking circle!!

(it's the way hopper leaves her alone for hours, like how brenner isolates her in a dark chamber. it’s how in both instances, she’s still isolated from society. it's the way hopper sets rules for her that don’t allow to act instinctively on her own. it's him telling her "you wanna go back in the lab? i can make that happen." it's damaging shit. it's triggering.)

then el finds out that hopper lies to her again, but this time it's about her mother, which……..

that scene of her breaking down, crying for her mama, is so sad. idk what else to say, everything that happens from this point on is sad!!!!!!!

fast forward to el reaching terry and becky's house. i can't even imagine what el feels when she meets her mom for the first time……… and terry is in the state that she's in. barely responsive.

but i can say how el's guilt is continuously brought up time and time again, bc when she sees terry's memories and sees how determined terry was to get her back, the lengths she went through - it's all just like joyce. her expectations of a mother stays intact.

only, unlike joyce and will, things don't work out in the end for el and terry. terry suffers for trying to get el back. and it wouldn’t be surprising if that fed into el’s guilt.

(also, this has bothered me ever since first watch, but terry is portrayed w a bit of hostility when el returns. when el meets her in the void, and she's says she's home, terry tells her "no" and grabs her arm, triggering terry's memories. it's lead me to ask myself if terry holds resentment for el, and for the price terry had to pay....... or maybe it was just for dramatic scary horror, i’m not entirely sure.)

there's this moment right after el comes out of the void and back into reality, and becky tries to comfort her. bc of terry's unavailability, it's a possibility that becky could've been the mother figure that el needed. but the awkwardness in this moment - in how terry tries to comfort el, but el is still visibly shook and doesn't hug back, unlike her moment w joyce in st1, when el practically clings to her - kinda foreshadows how things just aren't gonna work out so ideally.

this next bit regarding el avenging terry may or may not be a lil "out there" but i think it's interesting to think about.

el views finding kali as something terry wants her to do. and kali echoes that sentiment. kali essentially acts as this one last tether el has to terry, which may be why she thinks of kail as a sister.

i have a lot of thoughts about el's self worth, her morality, her means of protecting others no matter what she suffers. i’m not about to go on a tangent, but just to get the main idea out there: el straddles a line between viewing herself as a monster and viewing herself as a protector, and anything outside of that feels is out of her reach.

what kali gives her is a chance to sorta explore that monstrous side of herself - the side that is willing to hurt others, even when there's no one in immediate danger to protect.

but kali is her last tether to her mother. and what kali is asking her to do clashes w what she pictures a mother is meant to do. i'm not saying kali is some kind of mother figure, nor is that really the bigger picture. but finding kali is something terry "told" her to do. it all plays a part in the scene when they confront the man that followed brenner's orders, ray carrell.

would terry actually want this for el?

el sees a photo of that ray and his daughters, and reminds herself of what she wants, what she yearns for, and what she's been deprived of. the reason why she feels so much pain, and is having so much trouble healing. and she chooses to protect the children - to prioritize the children - instead of giving in to the monster inside of her planted by brenner.

kali has different values. she's chosen a different path for herself. we're never really sure what kali knows about her own past, who she's met in her life, but we do know that she's lost people, and she doesn't have much of a connection to terry despite el considering her a sister.

and that comes full circle when kali makes el see brenner.

the words brenner uses here are technically just kali's words, since she told el the same things and brenner in this scene is just an image created by kali. but that's what makes this scene so brilliant. this scene is kali talking to el, but she’s masked as brenner.

brenner tells people they're sick. kali still believes she's sick. kali hasn't healed despite claiming to - instead she's become a mirror to brenner.

this is el's view of fatherhood: demanding, ruthless, and cold. brenner hurt el, and bc of all that hardship, el is in danger of becoming a mirror to brenner. and unfortunately, this is what kali has succumbed to. kali has failed to realize the monster she's so convinced that she is, is a concept completely fabricated by brenner.

this is what leads el back to her friends. just like how terry did everything in her power to save el and suffered devastating consequences, el returns to her friends to wholeheartedly put herself in that very position.

it's so touching to see el and joyce hug. although, joyce is still "will's mom" to el (she even refers to her as such in st3). but she still holds that connection to the byers family. el still prioritizes will's safety, just as she prioritized the kids back in chicago.

now to briefly cover what el and hopper's reconciliation means for this topic - it's a very vulnerable scene. one of the most vulnerable scenes in the entire show. el and hopper allow themselves to understand and relate to each other, through guilt and trauma and emotion, and bc of the profound impact of this conversation, hopper is…… enough. it’s still uncertain that el considers hopper as a father figure, but at this point she lost her mother, and she lost kali, and hopper lost sarah. they have each other though. and it gives both of them the chance to finally begin to heal.

el channels the anger she feels being deprived of a mother to close the gate. but the gate's essentially a scar still struggling to heal.

st3

it may be a mystery to no one that i'm not a big fan of st3, and there's not a lot to talk about in terms of el and joyce. couple notes about them tho, before we get into the real shit that happened this season

hopper asks if joyce could talk to el and mike for him, which she turns down, so they're deliberately being kept apart by the writers (i also feel like we have v limited knowledge of what joyce thinks of el, so she might be keeping her distance for reasons i'm not really sure of yet).

it's cute to think about how hopper's letter isn't just hopper's letter, but it's joyce's letter to el as well. el just doesn't know it.

let's talk about billy's mom.

el's relationships w female characters on this show always seem to be given a lil extra layer. and el's immediate draw towards billy's mom is so charming to watch. she calls her "pretty" and feels as if she's is looking at her, all before she even finds out who the woman is.

once again, the standard for motherhood on this show is enforced by billy's mom and her literal angel-like presence. she's good to billy, she allows him the freedom of doing what he loves, but not before warning him that dad might get mad!! great!!

billy goes through very similar phases that el went through

his father is abusive, and hurts both billy and the mother

billy loses his mom

the lack of proximity to his mom eventually leads him to mirror the toxicity of his father

the moments that el seems to recognize rather quickly are when billy's dad is being abusive, billy desperately wanting his mom to come home, and billy quickly succumbing to toxicity.

we've explored this pattern in previous seasons, so it's pretty easy to piece together, even within a quick montage.

so when el has her moment w billy, reminding him of his mom, it's so incredibly powerful. when you think about how much this moment upon, after everything that happened in the previous 2 seasons, it just hits.

just as we've discussed how motherhood throughout the show has meant prioritizing the safety of the ones you care about and protecting them against all odds, billy protects el from the mind flayer to the point of self sacrifice.

(and while i may not agree that it completely works just bc of how i feel about billy as a character, it works to tie in all these themes really well. also i'm sure there's other kinds of readings you can do on this scene, i even thought about this scene completely differently a couple months back but ANYWAYS-)

honestly, the way el comforts max in this scene...... feels kinda motherly. there's definitely something to be said about how el's not always treated as just a child - despite still learning speech, she's still been forced to grow up in other aspects of herself, and she constantly puts herself in a position to protect others. but this scene w el and max is sweet, and it's nice that max has el for that moment before el eventually moves away w the byers.

and ofc, el loses hopper this season, which in her mind leaves her parentless. joyce is there regardless (tho joyce taking over for hopper and watching over el does kinda happen in a "no explanation needed" kinda way, and i'm not really sure how i feel about that).

joyce and el have still quite a ways to go before really developing the mother-daughter relationship that feels inevitable at this point. and after hopper's death, the way this season ended, and the way joyce and el interact, there's a bit of uncertainty as to how their relationship will develop. even after the 3 month jump, they come off as rather distant from each other.

nut yeah, i'm excited for st4. after engaging in all the ship wars, and having my own gripes w how the duffers write romance, i think i'm starting to fall back in love w this show. writing this has definitely made me feel happier about the show, and made me feel excited about certain aspects of the show that might've been in the back of my mind, but now it's all at the forefront.

i really do love el as a character, and joyce might be a very close second, if not at the same level as el. their stories have been leading towards each other since the beginning and i can't wait until we get the payoff.

i hope someone reads this lol. again i’m sorry this took months......... depression uh anon, i hope this is what you wanted 😂 and if anyone feels compelled to add on feel free to do so 😊………. hopefully it's positive lol

#hopefully this ends up in the tags bc wow this is long and i wanna know other peoples thoughts!!#stranger things #st meta #el hopper #joyce byers #kali #op tag #anonymous

73 notes · View notes

lettheladylead · 3 years

Text

Title: A Night Out Ship: Baloo/Rebecca Summary: Rebecca decides to have a night out and goes with Baloo to hang at Louie's Place. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30942905

It wasn’t often that she humored Baloo by coming along with him to Louie’s (or that he humored her by not complaining too much when she asked). But Kit had been begging to babysit more to earn money for some new toy he wanted and Rebecca had to admit...she could use a night off. Molly was an angel, but she’d been very needy the past few days.

And it wasn’t like she had any other friends to spend time with.

So off to Louie’s they went, though Baloo was side eyeing her the entire flight there, clearly suspicious of her motivations. They’d been out before and it wasn’t a problem! She’d been to Louie’s before, no issues about it. He had no reason to think that she was being sneaky.

“So, Becks…”

“What?”

Baloo tapped his fingers against the wheel. “...you’re not gonna try to get Louie in trouble again, are ya? He’s real sorry ‘bout what happened last time!”

Rebecca scrunched her brow at her partner’s words before the memory of her last visit to Louie’s hit her: one of his regulars had groped her and Louie didn’t kick him out until she threatened to call the police. She’d completely forgotten about it thanks to how busy she’d been with work and Molly starting school soon.

“It’s fine, Baloo,” she finally replied, rolling her eyes at his loud sigh of relief. “Just so long as it doesn’t happen again.”

“Oh, no worries there!” Baloo smiled at her as the Sea Duck started down towards the water. “I personally told Ralphie to never darken Louie’s door again!”

Rebecca huffed and turned to look at the pilot next to her, thinking he was making fun of her. She stared at his face to see a surprisingly serious expression - and not his standard Gotta Land This Plane Safely look. She took another moment of staring at his profile before turning away with a slight blush on her cheeks. She’d had a long week, maybe a night of drinking too much would be exactly the break she needed.

And they were making fun of her.

They were always making fun of her, but this time she tried to play along and then it just made it worse and now she was stuck with these two boys who bounced off one another like a comedy routine while she nursed a drink that she didn’t really know what it was but it tasted good and it was her third one and she was feeling quite a lot more relaxed than she normally would have when being mocked by two absolute morons.

“Ahhh, Becky, Becky, Becky,” Louie cooed at her. “You really should drink some water. Baloo tells me you’re quite the lightweight!”

“No, no, you got it all wrong!” Baloo said with a smirk, taking a big gulp from his beer. “I didn’t say she’s a lightweight, I said she fights me about my weight!”

They laughed together - a lot harder than Rebecca thought was necessary for such a bad joke - and she responded by taking a bigger swig of her drink than she probably should’ve. She hadn’t stood up since arriving and she knew once she did, all the alcohol would hit her at once. It was nice to know she could trust Baloo to get her home safe, at least. If nothing else, he was a good guy.

“Don’t you two have any material that isn’t at my expense?” she said, leaning on one arm. “Like if there was a different girl here, how would you entertain her?”

Louie and Baloo locked eyes for a quick moment before turning back to her. “If there was a different girl here, then we’d be having a very different -”

Baloo cut off his friend with a hand over his mouth and glared. Louie shrugged and laughed as the bear pulled his hand away. “What he’s trying to say, Becks, is that you’re a classy lady. Louie’s Place doesn’t get a lot of classy ladies, so most of our jokes aren’t exactly your style.”

“Oh? Since when do you care about my style?” Rebecca laughed, snorting once and immediately trying to hide it by taking another sip of her drink. “Considering the kinds of things you say to me on a daily basis, I can’t imagine you’re holding back.”

“Izzat true, Baloo?” Louie elbowed him and faked a shocked look on his face. “Are you not treating your lady here with respect?”

Baloo glared. “Not my lady,” he started as a quiet mumble. “...and yes, Becky, I do hold back a lot out of respect for you!”

She took another sip, raising a suspicious eyebrow at him. “Is that why you told me my new pants make my ass look fat?”

Louie’s burst out into laughter as Baloo blushed, glaring at his friend and then glaring down at Rebecca. “N-no, I mean...you asked for my honest opinion! I’m a spontaneous guy! I say things without thinking sometimes!”

“Sometimes, sure, alright.” Rebecca smirked, feeling proud that she’d produced the biggest laugh of the night so far. “I don’t think spontaneity is an excuse for pissing me off every other day.”

Baloo frowned at that, looking over to Louie for some help, but the monkey just shrugged and grabbed his own drink to focus on that for a minute. Baloo huffed before taking another long gulp of his beer and decided to go on the offensive. “That’s just ‘cause you don’t know anything about being spontaneous! Sometimes you piss people off, that's just how it goes!”

She sent him both a pout and a glare before opening her mouth again. “Says you! I’m not just some stuffy, boring office woman! I can surprise people!”

Baloo let out a harsh laugh, though this time Louie didn’t join in, opting to stare awkwardly between the two bears instead. “Come on, Becks, no point in pretending to be something you’re not!”

Rebecca dramatically slammed down her glass and glared at him again. Then she glared down at the bar and huffed before gripping the edge of the table and standing up. She climbed up onto the bar and tossed her hands in the air. “See? You didn’t expect this, did you?”

A moment later and the rush of drunkenness flooded to her head and Rebecca quickly sat down, her legs swinging off the edge of the bar. Baloo and Louie locked eyes again and Louie moved towards the sink to grab her some water.

Baloo slid closer to her - his elbow lightly grazing the edge of her thigh. “Yeah, so, standing on a bar isn’t as crazy as you seem to think it is. If you ever do something really unexpected, I’ll let ya know.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Like what?”

“I dunno!” Baloo shrugged, looking over at Louie to see the monkey struggling to find a clean glass. “You gotta take people by surprise! Make ‘em speechless. I’ve had too many beers to come up with somethin’ now, but trust me, you'll have to try much harder to catch me off-guard.”

Rebecca let out a hmph! as she thought about his words. They wandered through her muddled mind and her eyes widened as the perfect way to prove her spontaneity came to her. Plus - it was guaranteed to make Baloo speechless.

She looked over at him and before he could even ask what she was doing, Rebecca grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him to her while she leaned forward. Her lips crashed against his and she squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of him pushing her away and calling her crazy.

For a brief moment, her fear wasn’t wrong. Initially, his eyes grew as big as dinner plates and the red on his cheeks was not just because of the alcohol. He was certainly tempted to push her off, but mostly because she was drunk and they’d never done anything like that before. Well, either she was hiding some intense feelings for him or she really wanted to prove him wrong...or both. Whichever her reasons, he felt his heart do backflips as the realization of what was happening set it.

At least ten seconds passed with neither of them moving, and then all at once, they came together. Baloo set his beer down and moved one hand to her waist while the other crawled around her back, cradling her closer to him as he leaned in to deepen the kiss.

Rebecca kept her hands wrapped up in his shirt collar, but tightened her grip as she tilted her head and slightly opened her mouth against his in a clear attempt to bring their kiss to the next level. She wanted to be shocked by his reciprocity, but she was really just focusing on the feeling of his hands wrapped around her. She’d kissed him before, as a joke, but only light pecks and he’d never kissed back. This was something very new.

Baloo followed her lead and pulled her even closer to him - her knee bumped against his chest - as the hand that was on her back moved up to the back of her head. He tilted his head, too, and pushed a little more towards her - relishing the tiny little, satisfied-sounding noise that came from her throat. He wouldn’t dare call it a moan, but it was definitely something. Never in a million years had he imagined this actually, really happening. He’d barely imagined it in his head! But…

“Whoa!”

The two bears broke apart at the sudden sound of Louie’s voice. Never thinking of manners or social graces, he gave them a big confused smile. “Should I give you two the room?”

Baloo and Rebecca were breathing a little heavily and staring into each other’s eyes as he spoke. Baloo’s hands slowly moved down to cradle her hips while her grip on his shirt loosened to the point where he could easily pull away. Instead they stared for another few seconds before Rebecca finally spoke.

“I…” she said quietly. “I...need to use the ladies’ room!”

The pilot didn’t react as she quickly jumped away from him and hobbled towards the bathroom, occasionally losing her balance and grabbing bar stools or tables to get upright again. Baloo stayed exactly as he was before, only turning his head slightly to watch her walk away.

Louie placed the glass of water in front of him. “My man...what was that?”

Baloo didn’t bother trying to hide the dark blush on his face. “I, uh...I’m...I’m not sure.”

“Well,” Louie leaned onto the counter. “It definitely wasn’t nothing!”

“Gee, thanks, Captain Obvious,” Baloo grumbled at his friend. “She was just tryin’ to prove that she can be spontaneous. I guess.”

“Uh huh. That looked like a lot more than her tryin' to prove somethin’, buddy.”

Baloo copied Louie and leaned onto the counter, partially covering his mouth with his hand. He could still feel her lips on his and it made him feel a lot of funny feelings. “...yeah, I know.”

Louie raised an eyebrow. “Wanna tell me what’s goin’ through that thick head of yours?”

Baloo huffed and opened his mouth to speak when he was interrupted by a voice that made him blush once again.

“I’d like to go home now.”

She was already turned around and walking towards the door before Baloo and Louie could see the look on her face. But the way she was cradling her purse seemed like she wasn’t in the best mood anymore. No doubt she was embarrassed, but Baloo was stuck wondering exactly what kind of embarrassed and how awkward this would be in the morning and if there was anything he could do to fix it.

And, well. If he wanted to fix it...or if he wanted to see where it could go. He wasn’t really sure about anything at that particular moment. He also wasn’t sure he should fly the Sea Duck after the amount of beer he’d had, but it wouldn’t be his first time flying with a buzz. Probably not the last, either.

He looked back at Louie and shrugged. “Maybe next time.”

Louie responded with a short laugh. “Baloo, if anything happens between you two, you’d better give me more than a maybe!”

Baloo rolled his eyes and chuckled in embarrassment before stomping off after his partner. He didn’t know what to expect for the ride home, but he was certain it was going to be the most awkward ride of his life.

Fortunately, when he climbed up into his plane, he found Rebecca curled up in the passenger seat, snoring loudly. He wondered for a moment if she was faking, but decided it didn’t really matter. Neither of them were ready to have a conversation about what happened and that wasn’t changing anytime soon.

#talespin #rebecca cunningham #baloo von bruinwald xiii #baloo #beckloo #fic #fics

35 notes · View notes

fromtheplanethexagon · 3 years

Text

the robot problem: a critical look at tobecky, 5 years late

hello wordgirl fandom i am back :) and i have a lot of thoughts that i never got around to expressing before i moved on from the show. so be aware that everything i'm saying is based on my experiences during the 2012-2016 era of the fandom & state of tumblr in general, and i am not familiar with more recent fan content.

it's been over five years since the show ended, and @ifbrd reminded me (along with some great analysis) that while tobecky was super popular since before the show technically started (thanks to the play date shorts), it's pretty unhealthy in a lot of ways that tend to be excused or flat out ignored in fanworks. i'd like to reflect on that a bit (a lot); specifically, how both the show and the fandom approached this enemies-to-lovers ship, and how easily this ship can slip into uncomfortable territory if we're careless about how we interpret the ship and create fan content of it.

i will admit, i'm mostly writing this as a response to past me and my old creations - though i moved on from the show as a whole years ago, i do like taking the time to reflect on old interests once in a while, and reevaluating my thoughts on them. and this ship is probably the biggest one that still lurks in the corners of my mind once in a while, so let's go.

cherish is the word: a short positive note before a much longer negative one

i wanted to start this essay off with some positivity, because i am going to be very negative after this. tobecky was, in some ways, cute. it's obvious from the very beginning that these two characters are on pretty equal ground, even if one of them isn't aware of it. and that's part of the fun - the irony of how unaware tobey is that his nemesis/crush/person that pretty much always wins against him is someone that he completely dismisses as incompetent. i want to point this out because honestly, in general i don't like enemies-to-lovers because a lot of them use a power imbalance within the dynamic, and i hate power imbalances, especially when it comes to actual life-or-death scenarios (at least, as much as cartoons can do that). in most episodes, becky is never actually forced to go along with his wishes. she's not held in a 'date' against her will, nor is she ever really outwitted by him. i bring this up because there is one huge, uncomfortable exception, which i will get to later.

another big plus to the ship is the fact that they just... get along? even when fighting? of course we get brief moments where they just hang out and talk about paintings or whatever, but i'm talking about how much they get each other, even if they don't realize it. like the word banter, for example. been there since day one. becky loves words, and while most other people in her life don't really care (ranging from 'eh, that's cool i guess' to her brother calling it annoying), tobey gives her a chance to show off and thus treats her as a worthy adversary as herself, not because of her more generic superpowers - something that we've seen in canon that she feels self-conscious about (see: her motivation in patch game). one of the less noticed examples, to me, is "it's your party and i'll cry if I want to", because it's just - okay. they both are excluded from a social event, and while it's obvious that tobey deals with it by destroying the city, it's also pretty obvious that becky also deals with her frustration by fighting in that battle. like, yes, realistically it's just objectively bad that he's destroying buildings. but they're also providing each other with a way to work through their frustrations, first by fighting and then by talking things out, and finally by hanging out together instead of dwelling on being excluded from the party.

so it makes a lot of sense to me that many tobecky fans gravitated towards writing far-in-the-future fic, usually by implying that some growth had taken place before starting to write the ship. (there are, as far as i'm aware, 2... maybe 3 exceptions, that take the time to attempt a real redemption for him, at least when i left the fandom.) because if you take away his worst moments, either by reasoning out that he was 10 years old and a mess, or that he was a cartoon character in a cartoon world where everyone's actions are over-the-top, or by just flat-out pretending that certain episodes never happened, there's some pretty solid ground to start a ship on.

go gadget go: we all do not see it, we simply close our eyes (review of canon)

when the show began, i was the same age as the characters. a lot of other people were, too - at least in my cohort of the fandom. i think it's pretty safe to say that many of us have fond memories of the show's earlier seasons, and held on to that interest as we got older, for whatever reasons. so like, not to be all 'as an OG fan...', but i remember seeing the shorts air for the first time in 2006. i have a diary entry in july of 2009 about how i, a 12yo with no concept of the idea of 'shipping', was disappointed in the new tobey episode because i wanted more tobecky interactions. (that was robo-camping, btw, lol.) and so i remember how exciting their rivalry felt, watching them as someone literally their exact same age, and then watching that again as a nostalgic 17yo, and then uh... growing up, to put it frankly, and realizing just how unhealthy most of their interactions were.

okay what i meant to say was, this section is an overview of the relationship's canon portrayal throughout the years.

first, we have early tobecky: this includes the shorts and the first few seasons. this is their classic relationship: he likes her and takes robots on rampages to get her attention, she majorly disapproves and has fun taking him down. we've all seen the show, you know what i'm talking about. his backhanded ways of trying to find out her identity often feature prominently in the episodes, which - sigh, i've mentioned this whole issue before, but it's kind of a grey area in the whole uncomfortable-factor thing, because while trying to find out her identity is VERY invasive, it's something that like... everyone in the show tries to do, even her canon crush (scoops). on the one hand, it's really not a great look, but on the other hand, this is a cartoon meant to parody a genre in which this trope is extremely common. so i just wanna say that i have Issues and Thoughts on this aspect of their relationship, but there are other things i find more important to discuss here.

second, we have late tobecky: this is seasons 7-8. this is... a very strange and huge shift from the previous dynamic, though it's not necessarily obvious. what i mean by that is that for some reason, the show writers made it so that half of tobey’s rampages have nothing to do with his crush on wordgirl, even though that used to be the sole reason for his villainy. seriously. we have the birthday episode, where he's upset because he feels left out; wg vs tobey vs the dentist, where he's mad that he has a cavity; and trustworthy tobey, where his robot goes on a rampage... after becky accidentally makes it malfunction. the two outliers are ‘guess who’s coming to thanksgiving dinner’ and ‘patch game’, but they still differ from previous seasons because 1) his destruction is isolated to a forest far away from the city, and 2) his motive is still to impress wordgirl, but his methods are relatively tame. also he completely gives up on the secret identity thing??? i may have missed some things but i think he straight up tells her 'yeah there's no way you're wordgirl, lol' and the subject is just dropped for the rest of the show.

i also want to include 'the robot problem' here, because it's one of two season 6 tobey episodes, and follows the 'doesn't destroy buildings to get her attention' pattern: in fact, he teams up with her to try and stop someone else from going on a rampage (even if his reasons are selfish, lol).

and finally. the other season 6 episode. we have go gadget go, the bane of my time spent in the fandom. because GGG is the single episode where tobey truly manages to take away her autonomy, and proceeds to abuse that power for an extended period of time, for his own amusement. it's bad. it's Very Bad. put in the context that it's a white boy doing this to an (ambiguously) brown girl, it's REALLY REALLY BAD. and the more i look back on it, tbh, the more weirded out i am that the show not only made it seem like she wasn't affected at all within the episode, it just... forgot about it (which is not unusual for shows and especially children’s shows, but WG does make some efforts to either retain continuity or create canon reasons for why things are forgotten about). it's the kind of thing that you can't excuse and honestly you can't redeem (like at this point, you gotta ask yourself why you're spending so much effort trying to redeem this guy when becky has several other possible ships that are nowhere near this unhealthy - violet, scoops, honestly even victoria if you want another hero/villain ship, my absolute fave rarepair rose, etc).

so if you want to still ship it you have to just pretend that it never happened. (i remember trying for weeks to write something exploring the aftermath of this episode, to try and make myself feel better about it, but the more i wrote the more i realized just how traumatic this event should've been, so i eventually just dropped it.) and i brought up my own timeline of experiences earlier to point out that this episode aired eight whole years after the show started. which means that when i saw it, even though i was a huge stickler for canon at the time, i'd built up my own idea of the show and characters strongly enough to go 'yeah, no, this episode sucks and i am going to pretend that it doesn't exist'. and i think a lot of other people did too, because i really saw like... no one mention it, ever, except for some rogue fanfics over on ff dot net that already liked dynamics like that.

because here's the thing, and i don't know if people nowadays are aware of it? but i'm 80% sure (cannot find a source, so the other 20% is that it was just a rumor) that the show was originally supposed to end after season 6. and even if it's a rumor, it makes a ton of sense, because we get 1) an 'ending' to tobecky, which is a bad one, 2) a permanent wordgirl identity reveal that significantly changes one of the major dynamics in the show, 3) an episode where TJ gets to work with wordgirl and get a nice potential ending for their sibling dynamic, 4) an episode where we see Two-Brains explore life without his henchmen... the list goes on, and idk how many of these are just major stretches. but the point is. if the show had ended there, that would've been a pretty solid ending for many things, including their relationship: aka, it would prove that it was only ever heading somewhere bad, and when tobey finally has his moment of triumph, he is truly evil about it. and this provides us fans who HATE go gadget go with an easy reason to dismiss it - we can say that it was an attempt to conclude things in a way that wouldn't have happened if the writers had known they'd get more time. but despite that... it is still a canon episode.

it is odd to me how dramatically the dynamic shifts after that, though, because we seriously go from 'worst case ever, tobecky is toxic, your ship is dead' to 'no actually they get along and hang out and get ice cream together and tobey isn't even pressuring her into it, she's happy to go along with it :)' like, immediately. i never knew much about the show writers, so i don't know if the writers changed in between these seasons, but i would absolutely not be surprised if they did.

the earlier episodes are definitely problematic as well (though they pale in comparison to GGG) but i think everyone who ships it is aware considering that tobey is, yknow, a villain. from memory, he destroys buildings to get her attention, lies to her about the level of danger that people are in to trick her into spending more time with him, blackmails her into reading his poetry, and he creates a robot based on her that’s supposed to be devoted to him (but of course, all of these things backfire). not great stuff of course, but like... he’s a villain, that’s the point of his character. and considering that he’s a child these are things that can be redeemed, if done thoughtfully.

anyway, to sum up this section, the show starts off with a pretty standard 'enemies with an unrequited crush' setup, takes a really dark turn for a single episode, and then for the rest of the show takes their dynamic in a direction that makes it much, much easier to ship. as long as you ignore a lot of previous content.

wordbot: where's becky's autonomy in all of this? (misogyny)

we've finally gotten to the fandom. i recognize that a lot of this is going to come across as hypocritical considering how active i used to be re: this ship, but like... i'm a very different person now. anyway. disclaimer i guess - i don't write this to accuse all tobecky shippers of being like this - i know a lot of us aren't/weren't! but boy do i have things to point out, so without further ado:

it is very hard to ship this without allowing some bit of misogyny to slip into it. very, very hard. the entire premise of the ship involves a girl falling in love with a boy that repeatedly pressures her to date him via threats to the safety of herself and people she cares about, which... it's 2020, i shouldn't have to explain why that's terrible & a terrible example to set for children (which is why i am glad they never made it canon, tbh). best-case fan content has tobey stop pressuring her and start working to redeem himself out of an actual change of heart, which leads to becky seeing him in a new light. worst-case fan content treats his incessant pressuring and sometimes outright threats as something romantic - and even worse, romantic to the point where he deserves her attention and love as a reward for not giving up or whatever. i did see this pretty frequently for a while, especially in the earlier 2010s (didn't read much, Not My Thing At All), but i don't feel like going into detail here because of how obviously problematic it is. one medium (but still bad) case is where the fan content makes him start his redemption, but treats her liking him back as a reward for not knocking buildings over anymore. another not great case is where she tries to fix him with her love, which is a very common and very dangerous romantic trope. both are just... so incredibly unfair to her.

in content where she tries to 'fix him'... yeah i feel like it's really obvious how misogynistic that is. girls and women should not feel responsible for the evil actions of men, plain and simple. idk what else to say here i just really hate that trope and hated it back then and it just sucks! so can we not do that anymore, thanks.

in content that treats her like a reward for good behavior, there really isn't much of an explanation for what she sees in him. if she just goes 'oh wow, you're good now, i am going to fall in love with you for it' the whole thing falls flat because it makes NO sense whatsoever. we get to hear so much about tobey and his feelings and why he likes her and how he feels about it, but where is that energy for becky? why does she choose to trust him, to spend time around him, what does she enjoy about his presence? where is her getting over scoops in the process of falling for tobey? where is her telling her friends about this, confiding in them, asking them for advice? where is her choice in the matter?

win a day with wordgirl: do you guys even like becky or do you just like the idea of her (misogyny... 2!)

it was pretty standard for all fandoms the early-mid 2010s, but that's still not a good excuse for why so many tobecky fanfictions centered specifically around tobey's feelings while refusing to give becky the same level of empathy and nuance. it is true that to ship them comfortably you have to redeem him to some degree, which means spending time figuring him out and trying to find ways to pull him to the light without feeling super OOC. but ships take two people??? and there was so much potential for fanfics to explore becky's complex feelings on the matter - because she is! complex! she's heroic and kind but she's petty and has a competitive streak, she easily befriends villains but also doesn't trust them and doesn't believe they can ever really change, she's the savior of an entire planet but has feelings of inadequacy as her civilian identity and struggles with feeling like she can be successful without superpowers, she's great at the straightforward meanings and uses of words and loves reading but struggles to write passages that aren't dry as hell, it can be easily headcannoned that she's neurodivergent (special interests, issues with fitting in with her peers, taking things very literally, etc)... seriously there is SO MUCH to explore about her character, and a lot of it comes into play when you add tobey into the mix (literally ALL of the things i mentioned are explored at some point using tobey as a parallel or foil), but i rarely saw fanfiction that explored her thoughts on things further than 'he's evil but... maybe good?' or 'he's evil but... i kind of like him anyway?'.

if you want her to fall for him while being a villain, explore it!! why does she go against her morals? does she lie to herself about it to feel better? does she feel like she has to 'fix him' as part of her superhero duties to the city, and if so, how does that affect her as she tries and fails to help him? does she fall for him when she believes that he's turning good, only to feel betrayed when he starts acting worse because he feels like he can get away with it? it's such a shame that fanworks spend so little time even considering these questions, and it is absolutely a product of how deeply misogyny is/was baked into how we approach media (especially back then).

tobey goes good: but wait, i thought this show was progressive (a conclusion, i guess)

ifbrd wrote a great meta recently about how the show is a bit misogynist, despite being progressive in several ways. honestly i don't have much to add, but i'd really recommend reading through this; it makes a lot of great observations about the ways that male and female characters are presented differently through the show

i have little to add, so i'd just like to conclude with a reflection on the ship from my current viewpoint. i do think part of the reason so many of us latched onto the ship, despite how obviously problematic it was, is that the show treats a lot of things that would be serious in real life as normal or even comedic - which is fine lol, i'm not going to pretend that it's not a show for little kids, so they have to keep the tone light.

but if we, as teens/adults, decide to engage with this content in a more realistic manner, we have to be prepared to confront how messed up so many of the things going on really are. and if you still want to ship it, there's nothing inherently wrong with that! there's a lot of interesting things to explore in this ship, no matter what stage of enemies-to-friends-to-lovers you write them at, and it can be really helpful to have a space where you can explore a dynamic such as this in fiction. (speaking from experience here tbh, writing some fic for them helped me deal with complicated feelings about some ex-longtime friends.)

so to write this ship at all means that there are canon issues that you need to deal with if you want to have them end up in a healthy relationship in any manner that makes sense (unless you create an AU where none of that is applicable, which, power to you then). and i’m not saying ‘write them with a healthy endgame or you’re Bad’, not at all lol. but at least please, please take a step back once in a while to examine the dynamic that you’re writing, and please be careful about whether you mean to be romanticizing whatever behaviors you end up portraying as good.

#wordgirl #becky botsford #tobey mccallister #tobecky #tobecky critical #has anyone ever used that tag before LMAO #anyway: i may come back and reword the ending because i am not totally happy with it #but wow this is so many words. so many. send help

132 notes · View notes

faejilly · 3 years

Text

being by her seen

A series of scenes on motherhood in the Shadow Word for my @shadowhunterbingo square “Single Parent”

Imogen stood by the bier, kept her chin up and her face still.

She would not cry.

Would not scream.

Would not let a bit of her thoughts free, would not.

She had spoken her son's name in a steady voice, as if this wasn't any different than any other memorial she'd attended, no more important than any other ceremony she'd led.

As if the world was the same today as it had been before he'd died, as if the world hadn't ended, as if there was room for anything as useless as ritual in her heart.

Her son was dead, his child dead with his wife, nothing left, no one, nothing...

Nothing but vengeance.

Valentine would pay, if it was the last thing she ever did.

Every ounce of pain he'd inflicted, every atrocity he'd led... she'd feed it back to him, drop by drop by drop.

Ave atque vale.

Hail and farewell.

Jocelyn stared down at the pregnancy test in her hand.

There were other ways to find out, but this was private, mundane, something no one would notice.

This was positive.

She dropped the test, broke it under the heel of her shoe. She'd have to make sure to throw it out somewhere else.

She remembered the way black had filled her Jon's eyes...

She couldn't do that again.

She wouldn't.

Better to be alone, than to let Val...

Better to be alone.

Her hands settled on her stomach without her consciously deciding to put them there.

Not entirely alone.

But definitely better for the both of them, to get as far away from Valentine as possible.

Lilith stroked a single finger down the boy's shoulder, watched the black flakes of former skin fall away at the gentle touch.

He was asleep now, passed out from the pain, so he only shivered a little, no more screams, no more fighting.

He had such beautiful screams.

She inhaled, closed her eyes as she let it out again, as she let the smell of his blood, her blood, fade away.

There was still an acidic-sweet tang of angel as well, but not as much as there had been. She couldn't burn it all out, had to make sure she stopped just before it was gone.

Too little left, and he'd just be another demon-spawn, barely more powerful than all the Warlocks running around on earth, for all he had her blood in him, rather than just echoes of her power, her curse. Too much left, and Edom would kill him before he grew into his powers. She had to get it just right.

She wondered if the Nephilim who had helped make her boy realized what he'd wrought, had any idea what he'd given back to her.

She smiled, and waited for her precious gift to wake before she started again.

Mine own, at last, forever and always.

Elaine closed her bedroom door behind her, leaned back and pushed her head against the wood, hard, harder, harder.

She pressed her lips together until she could feel the shape of her teeth grinding together, until the tension in her neck was so high she was afraid she'd snap.

But silently.

That was the important thing.

Simon had been fussy all night, Becky too quiet, both of them missing...

They were both finally asleep, she couldn't wake them up. She had to hope that when they were asleep they could forget, for a little while, everything that they'd lost.

Everyone.

Elaine refused to open her eyes, refused to look at the bed she hadn't made properly in days, only one side messed up, only one side.

Her fingers curled, her nails digging into the grain of the door behind her.

Her nostrils flared as she tried desperately not to count the steps in her head, how far to get to the cabinet, how long to open it, to pull out the bottle...

It was just her, she couldn't...

It was just her, she couldn't.

She couldn't do this, not by herself, not without him...

She ignored the burn in her chest, the heat in her eyes, her throat, flushing across her chest.

Just one drink.

Just to help her sleep.

She'd get rid of it tomorrow.

She'd try again.

Tomorrow.

She just had to make it to tomorrow.

She opened her bedroom door, and walked back towards the kitchen.

She needed it. Just a little.

Just enough to make it through.

Maryse stood in their office, her hands clasped behind her back as she pretended to look out the window, as she pretended to care about anything happening here and now.

She didn't put her hands over her stomach, though it ached a little to deny the impulse, cold between the bones of her wrists.

She could pretend she didn't know yet, could let Robert go, as they'd considered, could let this charade of a marriage be over.

Would it grant her freedom, or would she fall from the precarious perch they'd built up after the Clave begrudgingly took them back?

She didn't deserve the freedom, she knew that, but she'd take it, hold it tight with both hands, because it meant her children were free, would survive, would outlast Valentine's legacy and the Council's bitter mercy.

But they hadn't made it public yet, because even though Robert had his mistress, he knew as well as she did how they'd bought their second chance from the Clave with Alec's life, with the facade they presented of a perfect, loyal, Nephilim family. They knew that taking one step outside of their assigned duties could mean they'd all fall, not just her.

They chafed, these chains that tied them together, but...

But wouldn't unlocking them be worse?

How far would she fall?

Would Alec and Isabelle fall with her, or would Robert be able to save them?

She closed her eyes, and swallowed. She couldn't let it all be up to Robert, couldn't count on him to save them all.

Especially not...

She let a sliver of her control slip, moved her hands where they wanted to be.

She couldn't risk her fall injuring the one that wasn't here yet.

She'd tell him she was pregnant again, and he'd stay. She knew he would, he'd understand his duty.

She'd pretend she was glad of it.

She had enough practice, after all.

She'd do what she had to do.

She always did.

Magnus brought the poor girl right over, as soon as he got her away from the Institute. Catarina almost fluttered about her apartment as she waited, though it hadn't even been a minute between his warning and his arrival, a portal swirling to life in the middle of Cat's living room.

She looked scared, barely even holding Magnus' hand, caught between wanting to hide behind him and from him, from the both of them.

"Madzie, right?" Cat dropped down to her knees without even thinking about it. "Are you all right?"

Madzie looked half a step away from bolting, but she firmed up her frown and nodded, and Cat's heart broke just a little more. She was so small, and yet she stood there all on her own, straight and strong and so damned young.

Cat could barely remember being a hundred, much less... what, five?

"Are you sure?" Cat asked again, her voice low, her magic warm between her fingers, her heart aching to reach out. "It's all right if you're not. We're here to help."

Madzie's frown shifted, as if she wanted to let it go, but didn't think she could.

Didn't trust that it was safe.

Cat knew that there was no real way to convince her, nothing besides time, but she wished...

She wished magic worked like that.

Only, maybe it did? Cat let her glamour go, so used to holding it she hadn't realized she'd left it up, and Madzie's eyes widened at the wave of blue appearing across Cat's skin. She reached out, and Cat carefully stretched her arm so Madzie could choose when to touch her, to feel the warmth of normal skin beneath her fingers, could see the contrast between the blue and dark brown.

Madzie sniffed, and something behind her eyes broke, and Cat almost fell over from the sudden weight of a child in her arms.

Cat wrapped her arms around her, swallowed against the urge to swear as Madzie started crying into her shoulder. Rather than risk startling the poor girl again, she just let her weight settle and waited.

Waited, as her heart grew heavy and her arms tightened and she realized she was never going to be able to let go again, not really.

She looked over her girl's head at Magnus, drowning in the same helpless heartbreak in his expression that she could feel in her own chest.

Only not quite the same.

Madzie was still just a girl to him, and Cat realized, looking at him, that she couldn't say the same. Her heart had chosen.

Madzie sniffed, and Cat kissed the top of her head, and when she looked up again it was to the sight of Magnus' eyes widening, somehow recognizing what had happened by the look on her face.

Congratulations, Mama, he mouthed, and Cat felt her eyes burn even as she smiled at him.

Thank you.

#shadowhunters #jilly writes #imogen herondale #jocelyn fairchild #lillith #elaine lewis #maryse lightwood #catarina loss #my sh fic #with thanks to junemermaid #for the fact that this is even vaguely coherent #<3

30 notes · View notes

zmediaoutlet · 3 years

Text

in support of Texas relief, @claraxbarton donated $50, and requested Dean Winchester & Bucky Barnes. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

Curfew to get back to their bunks is 2200 hours but Carlisle's still trying to prove something and so Bucky's still out, too, because hell if he's going to let some jerk from Long Island out-drink a Brooklyn boy. "Think you're gonna fall asleep soon, punk," Carlisle says, grinning wide and loose and his eyes real red, and Bucky raises his eyebrows and knocks the next shot back. He doesn't rise to the punk thing even if he wants to sock the jerk one. See, Steve, he wants to say, but of course Steve's not here. Bucky sucks the inside of his cheek, not feeling the burn anymore after this much—maybe a bad thing—but he waves to the girl leaning against the bar, signaling for another. Becky, is her name, which caused some comment from Carlisle too. She's in a too-short skirt and Bucky knows from when Carlisle got a hand on her ass that she's not too worried about keeping the hemline down, giggling as she leans over and puts the next round on the table. Carlisle pulls her in by the hand, murmuring something in her ear that Bucky can't hear over the jazz from the jukebox but that she hears perfectly well, from how she giggles and leans in, her bosom squishing up and catching Carlisle's attention just fine. Bucky sighs, sits back. Maybe the competition's over, after all. He sips at the next shot instead of downing it, actually tasting the whiskey—crap, but better than he used to be able to afford back home—and ignores how Becky's showing off the top of her stockings, the peek of white thigh above them, and looks over the top of Carlisle's head at the lawyer-type who's been sitting toward the back of the jazz club, this whole time, watching them.

Hat on the table, a beer half-sipped at his right hand. A paper pad open, at his left. Doodling something. Bucky sips at his shot again and Becky's now in Carlisle's lap, her arms around his neck. The bar's emptying out, most everyone from boot camp gone home, and Bucky's maybe got a point to prove but he's tired of this. He knocks back the rest of his shot and then reaches out and takes Carlisle's, and kicks him under the table for good measure. "Hey!" Carlisle said, distracted from sweet Becky's plump white throat, and Bucky said, "Sorry, pal, you forfeit by way of boring me to death," and gets up from the table in a scrape of the chair on the wooden floor, and Carlisle starts to stand up but of course Becky's weighing him down and she says, "Hey, slugger, you're gonna leave me all alone?" and Carlisle's distracted, soothing, long enough for Bucky to walk away, toward the back of the bar, the shot still heavy in his hand. He wants to drink it but he wants something else, too.

Jukebox, in the back. He leans over it, flipping through. Glenn Miller, Gene Autry. He wonders who put on the run of Louis Armstrong—fourth song in a row, by his count—and in the corner of his eye he can tell that the lawyer-type is watching him, from the table right there, and doing a good job of pretending he isn't.

2200 hours. Bucky checks his watch. Ticking closer. He's not the most rule-abiding guy at the best of times but he knows he's been pushing it, with his sergeant, and if he's found out to be back late again then—well, it's latrine duty for sure, if not a full ten miler with all his gear. He sucks the inside of his cheek. Worth the risk? If he's thinking of going to Europe to fistfight Hitler, then what isn't?

"Hey, pal," Bucky says, turning, with this feeling in his gut like running into a fight in a back-alley in Brooklyn—but the lawyer's up, leaving his beer half-drunk on the table, walking past him to the hall where the WCs are. Bucky licks his lips. There's a doodle left on the table, a torn-out page from the guy's pad: some weird symbol that Bucky doesn't recognize, in heavy pencil-marks, sketchy and strange. He frowns, looking over his shoulder, but the door's swinging, and he's—sure, almost. He's gotten that kind of look, before. He's given it.

The hall's empty, but there's another door at the end, frosted glass, EXIT in reversed letters, just closing. An alleyway—well, hell. Bucky's done worse in worse places but the danger of it is leaping in his throat, now. The chances that someone might see, might catch his uniform in the dark, might—but he's a real knucklehead, it turns out, and he's pushing through the door, the glass of booze still clutched in his other hand, and then: the alleyway, and whatever's waiting, and… the lawyer nowhere to be seen.

He turns around, squinting in the mostly-dark. Trash bins, and a cat racing away out toward the streetmouth. Bucky steps forward, looking—wondering if he was seeing things he wasn't meant to be seeing, wondering if his stupid heart was manufacturing things that weren't there, like always—and—there, on the other side of the wooden gate, a glow. A candle? No: a… circle, somehow drawn on the alley wall like with fire. Strange symbols that he can't make out as he gets closer. They're bright but slowly fading and he reaches out, caught by the strangeness. No heat, as his fingers hover over the coal-flames. In the center, one of the symbols looks like a star, and he licks his lips and takes a deep breath and like an absolute knucklehead presses his hand flat against it and then –

"Of course I'm—look, I'm the one who had to haul his ass into the trunk, okay? And he's heavy as hell. So, thanks for sending me out here solo, by the way."

Bucky keeps his eyes closed, trying to keep his breath even. He's waking up slow, not like from a bad dream but from a deep, long sleep, and he hasn't had one of those since before basic—since before Joe moved back into Ma's house—since before he slept over at Steve's, when they were younger and Steve's mother was at the hospital, and Steve was snoring on his half of the bed but Buck was—well, it hardly matters. His head feels queer, memories close to the surface and hurting. He's laying on something soft.

The man starts talking again: "Dude, for the last time—yes, Sam, I'm sure. You know how many History Channel docs I've watched about Cap and the Commandos? There's some kind of federal law that it's all they show at noon on a weekday. Check the insignias from the uniform, I'm telling you. This ain't a reenactor, it's the real deal. Plus there was that Thule sigil still burning on the alley wall." A pause. Bucky doesn't know the half of what this guy's talking about. Thule? What the hell is a history channel? "Yeah. Hey—look, he's—okay. Call me when you find something."

Another pause. There's a shift, fabric rustling, and then a creak of bedsprings. "You want to stop faking? You're not that good at it."

"Says you," Bucky says, but he opens his eyes.

A room, like a hotel or something. Nighttime, from the dim, and a lamp making a pool of light between the two beds. He's on one, laid out on his back, and on the other, when he turns his head: a man, older than him, sitting on the side of the mattress, watching him. Bucky presses his lips together, looking. Not the lawyer type who gave him the slip in the alley and not anyone he's ever seen. The man's looking right back at him, studying his face, and then his eyes go skipping down Bucky's body, and Bucky's still wearing his uniform but he feels—"What's a Thule sigil?" he says, to cover up his reaction, and the man's eyes jump right to his and he grins, like Bucky's some circus pet that just did a trick he didn't expect.

"I think we better start with 101," the man says. Generic accent. Where are they? "Name's Dean. I'm a hunter. Sorry for kidnapping you, but you were passed out in an alleyway and I wasn't sure the cops would know how to handle a guy from 1943 who's—uh, you." He scratches the corner of his jaw—hasn't shaved in a few days, apparently—and then shrugs, and nods at Bucky. "Your turn."

"James," Bucky says. He surprises himself and blinks at the man. Dean. "James Barnes. Probably AWOL from my unit at this point, depending on what time is." Another grin, but this one more natural, and Bucky decides he probably doesn't want to sock the guy one. He starts to sit up but his head—ah. Woozy, the world tilting some, and Dean reaches out quick and grabs his arm, helping pull him upright. It hurts but not like getting punched, or the one time a guy coshed him over the head in an alley fight and he woke up to Steve grimly holding his brains together. More like a hangover but he didn't even have that much to drink. When he's up, boots on the floor, Dean sits back and just looks at him again, all over, and Bucky looks down at himself too like maybe there'll be something interesting to see. It's just him, though, in his uniform a little worse for wear for eating dirt in the alley, but Dean keeps looking at him like…

Dean's spinning something in his hand—a metal rectangle with a shiny glass face. He sees Bucky looking and grimaces, and tucks it into his jacket pocket. "Sorry," he says, "not sure we're ready to do the whole Back to the Future II thing, here," and Bucky doesn't know what that means, either, but then Dean says, "Here's the thing: it's 2013," and Bucky blinks at him and says, "Bullshit."

Dean's eyebrows go high. "Wow," he says, under his breath, "okay, so it really wasn't like the newsreels." Bucky stares at him. "Um," Dean says, and then says, "Shit, Sammy doesn't know everything, hang on—" and he picks up something from the bedside table between them and points it, and then there's a flashbang of color and light and… a man, talking about the stock market, in brilliant color and as vivid as Dean sitting across from him. "Don’t tell your pals in the unit about Wolf Blitzer, I don't want to create a time paradox or something where someone doesn't get born," Dean's saying, but Bucky just sits and stares, frozen on the bed. It's like… a marvel, from that World Fair they went to, something that Stark genius would think up. He gets up, finally, and Dean's quiet, and he reaches out and touches the glass and it sparks against his fingers, static, against where there's a box that says February 15, 2013, 9:57 pm. "Yeah, it's an old one. A television. I can't remember if you have those yet or not."

"Who are you, pal?" Bucky says, not turning around. The light hurts his eyes, it's so bright.

Dean sighs, behind him. The sound from the television goes away and Bucky touches it again, shaking his head, and Dean says, "James Buchanan Barnes. You go by Bucky. You're from Brooklyn." Bucky looks over his shoulder and Dean's looking at him—looking older, looking tired. "You joined the service in 1943. You're in the 107th and, from what I can tell, you haven't shipped out to Europe yet, because you were in an alley in Georgia, instead, and you haven't—" He gestures vaguely to Bucky's side, eyes dipping, but Bucky doesn't know what he means, and he's got this vague panicky feeling stuttering up in his chest. Like being caught at something only this time he hasn't done anything wrong.

Dean stands up. They're the same height, same build. Dean's dressed like a farmer, in denim pants and a plaid shirt untucked, but he doesn't carry himself like one. A hunter, he said, and Bucky braces himself. Hunting what? The door's too far away for him to lunge and make it before Dean could get there.

"I'm not here to hurt you, man," Dean says. He laughs, lightly, shaking his head. "Like, that's the last thing I want to do. You're Bucky Barnes. I can't—tell you what that means, I guess, but… It means something. But you're not supposed to be here."

"Where's here?" Bucky says, tightly.

"Well, seventy years out of place, for one thing," Dean says. His mouth curls up on one side. "Though I gotta say, you're hot for an old guy."

Bucky takes a breath, while Dean grimaces. "I feel like I just hit on George Washington or something," he mutters, eyes dropping to his boots.

"Even if you add seventy, I'm not that old," Bucky says, after a second, and he can tell he's coloring up but he's not—men don't—he's never, even in alleyways and in dark rooms and in the one dance club he ever got brave enough to go to, one night when Steve was staying up with his mother and Bucky was so strained in the heart he thought he'd crack in half, he never—out loud, he never.

Dean looks up. Calculation. He's a looker. Even back in the unit among all the guys, Bucky could say that and not have anyone question it. Brownish hair, green eyes, freckles like a kid from a sodapop advertisement but he sure doesn't look like a kid. A man, carrying himself like one, his muscles obvious in the blue plaid, his hands square and sure. Bucky looks at them instead of into Dean's face. He's never sure but now he's very not and he doesn't want to—so there are Dean's hands, on his hips, and his knuckles, and his clean neat nails. Safer to focus on than the insanity of what Dean's telling him—the future, Bucky thinks, again, the world wheeling off its track, where somehow some man in some hotel in Georgia knows who he is, and says he's hot. Howard Stark's World of Tomorrow couldn't possibly.

He steps forward. Dean's hands lift, low, cautioning, and Bucky licks his lips and walks into them, lets Dean catch his hips. "Whoa, sailor," he says, and Bucky says, "I'm in the Army," and then he picks up his head and kisses Dean, square on the mouth, heart leaping into his throat.

Brief, hard. He grips Dean's shoulders and they're—oh, shocking, hot and firm and real in a way that he's turned over by, half-convinced that it's a dream, but all his dreams have been insubstantial as air, gossamer that slips away when he tries to hold it. There's a burst of air, Dean exhaling hard through his nose, but his lips are—soft, his chin scratching against Bucky's, and after a second of stupid clenched-eyed hope Dean's hand slides up his side and he readjusts his head, tilts, makes the kiss… softer, easier, and Bucky gasps in air he didn't realize he was holding onto and Dean's mouth follows his, closing over his bottom lip and sucking very softly, and Bucky thinks out of nowhere without his brain having any say-so Steve, and he pulls away then, jerking so hard that Dean says, "Whoa, whoa, buddy—" and Bucky almost hits him but turns away, puts his hands over his face, breathes out hard and quick and tries to ignore how his lips feel oversensitized, burning.

There's a strange metallic sound while Bucky's heart is trying to beat out of his throat. It cuts off mid-racket and Dean says, "Great timing, Sammy," full of sarcasm, and Bucky drags his hands down over his cheeks, covers his mouth. Turns around, to face his stupidity like a man. Dean's holding the metal thing to his ear, apparently listening, but his eyes are fixed to Bucky's. "Oh, just traumatizing a war hero," Dean says, and then his attention shifts and he rolls his eyes, holding the thing away from his ear with this expression so what are you gonna do?, like a guy from the deli taking a call from his henpecking wife, that Bucky snorts. Dean smiles at him, easy, and puts it back to his ear in time to respond, "Yeah," and then, "Got it, okay—look, text it to me, I left my pen in Kansas," and takes it away and holds it in front of himself—another whirling flash of color, a picture of some man, and then Dean pokes a red circle and it goes quiet.

"So," Dean says. "Sammy knows how we can send you back. Gotta do it by midnight but that's no big deal, I've got the stuff in the trunk. Scary adventure's gonna be over soon, soldier. You'll have to worry about the AWOL thing on your own."

He's poking at things on the rectangle again. His thumbs move very quickly. Bucky's watching his face, downturned, apparently casual, except that his ears are bright blushing red.

"War hero," Bucky says, finally.

Dean's cheek sucks in on one side and he looks up under his eyebrows. "Can we pretend I didn't say that?" he says. Bucky shakes his head and Dean bites the corner of his mouth. His mouth. Bucky looks into his eyes instead. "Yeah. Look, I can't—tell you this stuff. I don't know if they had sci-fi in the 40s but you just… can't tell people their future, okay? It's a bad idea. You might change something, or do something, and you'd screw up time, and then, I don't know, giant vampire robots might take over Manhattan as soon as I send you back."

"Vampire—?" Bucky says, bewildered, and Dean groans.

"Forget that, too," Dean says—fat chance, Bucky thinks—and Dean shakes his head, sighing. "Look, all this… time travel crap is new for me, too. Didn't even know it could really be a thing before a few years ago, and I didn't know regular people could just smear some stuff on a wall and speak some mumbo-jumbo and just make it happen. And so—we found this record that an unexplained event had happened, on this day in Georgia, and Sammy—that's who was just on the phone—he said, well, go check it out, and he's faking like he's not sick so I just let him send me out on the errand, and then it turned out to be you, and I'm… babbling, this is embarrassing, but you're you and I gotta say, whenever we were kids, Sammy was Superman and I was Batman but when we played Commandos he had to be Cap because I always wanted—"

Dean cuts off, and now the red's in his cheeks as well as his ears, even if Bucky doesn't know what goes there. "So. I'll send you back, but." He lifts a shoulder. "I wish I didn't have to."

He looks real sorry. Bucky leans back against the dresser, with the silent television flashing colors by his shoulder. He tries to imagine it. Boys in some hazy, magic-screen future, playing at being him, the way the kids in the neighborhood play being Flash Gordon. It's too big to fit into his head. He says, instead, "So… we win, then." Dean frowns. "The war. We win? If… me and the commandos and whoever the Captain is, we all get to be heroes. We must win."

Dean licks his lips, and looks… guilty, as all hell. "Yeah," he says, voice strange. "Yeah, you win."

Oppressive, to hear it. Not relief but responsibility. Bucky nods, takes a deep breath. "Well, all right, then," he says. He smiles at Dean, his very best. "Then I think the big hero deserves another kiss."

Dean startles, and laughs, and Bucky grins until Dean's head drops. He swallows. The future, settling onto his heart; the past, roaring up to meet it.

#ffcc #dean winchester #bucky barnes #my writing #-- hey i hate to be that guy but i gotta apologize #this is less a story than a collection of paragraphs #but i feel like i forgot how to write at all #this doesn't match up to the donation #but i hope it gives you some mild entertainment #imagine bucky barnes watching cnn #that could be funny at least right?

20 notes · View notes

carryonmywaywardwriters · 4 years

Text

Knot In Love - Alpha!Dean x Omega! Reader

A/N: Part twenty three is back. Again, where it’s a daily thing? I am not tagging anyone new. 3pm is the magical time, usually. Today, there’ll be a few extra. This one at 7pm and one at midnight. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy one of my favorites <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Series Warnings: Forced mating. Knotting. Alpha/Omega dynamics. Witchcraft (more based on real craft than Hollywood). Angst. Etc. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: Roughly 3,900

“Where'd Dean go?” You walked out to the library, finding Sam glaring at a stack of books. The hunter you had been searching for had disappeared before the daily session.

“Beer run,” He didn't look up, frowning at the aged paper that rested in front of him. The more Dean pushed, the worse he seemed to get. So, you didn't. “Need something?”

“Just curious,” Was your answer, settling down in the seat across from him. Picking up a book and scanning over the cover. “Anything good?”

“Nope.” His sour tone made you sigh deeply. It was the same attitude you'd been receiving since you'd all said goodbye to Donna. “What?”

“Just trying to figure out what I did to you,” Your eyes carried hurt as they met his, making him look away quickly. “Anything we can talk through?” Sam's face grew mullish; his teeth grinding together as his head shook. “Okay...” You swallowed tightly. Brows slamming together at that answer. “I guess I won't bother you, then...Sorry...” The younger Winchester could only hold up to so much.

As you stood to leave, he stopped you, “Y/N...” A small exhalation pushed past his lips. “I... could use some help. Looking for anything that'll lead us into Apocalypse World.”

“Yeah,” You nodded, not looking as eager as you had in the beginning. “Okay.”

Slowly, your body lowered down into the chair. Still carrying the wounded expression. But, you stayed. Discussing what you two found. Carefully avoiding anything else. Eventually, he started warming up a little.

Whistling sounded some time later followed with heavy footsteps as he came down the stairs. Too chipper to be normal. Dean was home. Your head lifted slowly, taking in the sounds.

“Hey,” Sam called out, catching the older brother's attention. “Uh, I think you might be right. I think maybe its time to go ahead and call Cas.” Dean was still whistling as he entered the room. “Because, I mean...if...if...” The train of thought failed as a spin accompanied a low whistle. The keys and beer thudding onto the table. “You alright?”

“Am I alright?” Dean leaned forward, a pleased grin on his face.

“Looks stoned to me,” You answered, inclined onto the table. “Did someone find a little green herb?”

“I'm in love.” He paid no heed to your question. Your heart lost control, then. Speeding up a bit at the words.

You two had spent more time together than you'd ever before. He'd started training you to fight. Giving you more notes on monsters. All things that would keep you safer in his life. But, never once had he said those words. Even hinted at them.

“You...” Sam glanced back your way, noting the way you were staring wide eyed. “Oh, are you?” A small chuckle left him.

He'd suspected attachment, but not a full blown admission. He glanced around, looking for any open bottles to explain the sudden exposure of his brother's feelings. Nothing.

“I mean, I am like, full on twitterpated here.” He stated seriously. Grinning like a loon as he straightened to his full height. “Seriously, I can't wait for you to meet her.” Instantly, your shoulders deflated a bit. Sam paused then, glancing over at you and then back to his brother. He was still going. “She...I mean, she's...” He inhaled deeply, hands gesturing in the air. “She's sweet, and she's beautiful. And she's just kinda, sorta, perfect.” Dean was gushing like a school girl, that annoying grin on his face. You had the urge to give him the same treatment you'd delivered to Marlon.

“Stoned. He has to be,” You turned to Sam, seriously. Chiding yourself for having believed it could have been anything else. “I bet if you ask for a name, he says Mary Jane.”

“You're a negative nancy,” He turned on you, waving his index finger in your face. Earning an expression you'd picked up from them: the bitch face. “Anyways,” He moved towards the ugly red chair in the room. “I'm thinking of asking her to move in with me, here.” He dropped down, reaching in one of the drawers as if he hadn't sent a spike into your chest. “If that's cool. Cause this is big time,” He laughed gleefully, making your eye twitch. Your face turned to Sam, silently asking him what the fuck was going on. A sigh left Dean as he pulled out the covered book that rested in the drawer and clobbered to his feet.

“Uh, Dean,” Sam started moving then, turning to better face his crazed brother. “What are you doing with the black grimoire?”

“He's about to get it upside the head,” You grumbled under your breath, squinting in confusion. Looking for any signs of something physically wrong with the man you'd come to know. There was nothing obvious on him.

“It's a gift,” He answered proudly, tapping at the black and gold cover. “For Jamie.”

“For Jamie?” The younger brother got to his feet slowly. Concern coming forth at the turn.

“My soul mate.” Dean confirmed. Pleased as could be. As if it should have been obvious.

“Sure,” Sam went along with it, earning a snort of betrayal from you.

“Great, I have a name to throw on a tombstone,” Your voice was sickly sweet as you leaned forward. Going further ignored. No longer seeming important.

You were starting to get what was happening. A love spell. Suddenly, you found yourself hating witches. Or rather one in particular: Jamie.

“And she happen to ask for that book by, uh, name?” The question was designed to confirm what you already knew.

“Yeah!” Dean's excitement made you close your eyes in pain. Looking to the ceiling. Silently asking Chuck- the God you hadn't believed in- why nothing could ever be simple. “I mean, isn't that kind of cosmic fate that we actually have it?” A groan left you at that. “Like,” His hands widened as he imitated an explosion from his brain. That, at least, was accurate.

“Cosmic fate?” Sam's voice was soft as he muttered to himself. “Right. Yeah.” Louder, he continued. “Okay,” He chanted a few times, trying to decided just what the hell he was going to do. You were eyeing up the thick books, trying to decide which one would work best to knock the spelled alpha out. “I think I know what's going on here.” He decided on the upfront approach as you weighed two novels in your hands. “Do you remember, uh, Becky? In Vegas? The love spell and...” Sam got closer to his brother as he talked, hoping to make him see reason.

“I don't,” Your interest was suddenly picked back up. “Tell me more.”

“No,” Dean cut that idea right off. Gazing at his brother as if he was insane. You settled on the lore Sam had been using and got to your feet.

“Okay,” The younger brother tried again. Not giving up at the apparent lapse in memory. “I think Jamie must be a...a witch, or a demon.”

“Whoa,” He backed away as you prepared to take a step. Suddenly more alert. You sighed at that, knowing you'd have to wait your turn as the word was repeated in offense.

“What?” The question was forced from the taller man.

“Be nice.” Dean ordered, glaring at his little brother. Then his grin grew bigger. “Cause she's got a sister.”

“Oh, for fuck's sake.” Patience be damned; you were on the move. Only Sam stopped you that time. Yanking the makeshift weapon from your hands.

“If you play your card's right,” Your ex mate continued as if you hadn't attempted to bash his brains in to silence him, “you guys might fall for each other. You know, the less attractive siblings? They fall in love.” Sam's grips against your arms loosened for a second, as he considered letting you finish your goal. Only resisting because he knew it wasn't his brother talking...mostly, anyway. “That's kinda cute, right? Huh?”

“Just hold on a second,” Sam ordered.

“I can ask if she has a brother,” Dean didn't stop, looking at you with innocently hopeful eyes. “Get you all taken care of.”

“You can-” The sputtering began, then. “Can, go fuck yourself. One of the world's best hunters is wrecked by a love spell. Unbelievable.”

He skipped right over the steam leaving your ears, “I can't wait 'cause she's waiting for me at the market. So, I'm just gonna...” He reached for the keys. Sam finally released you to grab them before his brother could. Dean's hand squeaked as he drug it across the table, nothing rested beneath it. “Okay. Alright. That's fine. You know why?”

“This ought to be good,” Your arms crossed as Sam tugged up his sleeves.

“I'll walk,” Was the answer. “Cause it is...” His hand waved through the air as a sing song kinda phrase left his lips, “Gorgeous outside.”

“Wait, Dean.” Sam grabbed onto his shoulder as the older man moved to walk away.

“Should have let me knock him out,” Came your own song. Earning the infamous scowl from the younger brother. You simply shrugged.

“Dean, listen.” His grip tightened, earning a solid punch to Sam's face. Knocking the taller brother to the ground.

“Ohhh,” Dean cheered for himself as the loud thud sounded. “Right on the button. Listen. When I get back from my date, I'm gonna help ya ice that. Okay?” Your hands cupped the book that had been confiscated as he gloated. When he turned away, you swung. Only to end up with your wrists caught. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Trying to save your dumb ass,” You stated seriously, bringing your knee up to his groin. When he doubled over, you thought you might have had a chance. Until he dove at you, pinning you to the ground.

His hand rested over your throat in warning, “I don't want to hurt you.” The grip tightened for only a moment in warning. “Don't make me.”

“Why not?” You hissed out, struggling against him. Making him look into your eyes as your nails dug into his forearm. “You have Jamie. The new witch. You don't need me anymore.” He frowned at that, but let go of you. Backing away as you rubbed over the place he'd been squeezing.

“Stay here, Y/N.” He warned, his green eyes threatening you. “Alright? Thanks. Good talk, pal. Good talk!” With that, he was trotting out of the bunker. Leaving you to wake Sam up to try and stand a chance against the large, spelled jerk.

It took a bit to get Sam up and moving. Enough time for Dean to get to the market if he had run. He was anxious enough to see her, you were sure that he'd broken his no jogging rule at least once along the way.

“Witch killing bullets?” You loaded the gun how Dean had shown you as Sam sped towards the local market. “Remind me never to piss you guys off.”

“How are you even still conscious?” He griped, rubbing at his cheek. Feeling the tenderness from his brother's solid fist still lingering behind.

“Hell if I know,” The question had been bothering you, too. “Misguided chivalry?”

“Doubtful.”

“Well, then you come up with an answer, moose-man.” His lips pulled down and in, revealing the unimpressed dimples at the nickname. “But, until you do? We're taking mine.” Worry left you snarkier than usual. “Sam, he's there!” You pointed out Dean standing with his back facing you. A sledge hammer poised to be lifted near his scalp. Sam whipped the Impala around. Gunning it in that general direction. When the vehicle slammed to a stop, you got out of the car. Weapon raised, “Get away from him.”

“You heard her,” Sam's gun cocked in his hand. Aimed at the other blonde haired sister. Twins with a bad attitude based on their matching frowns.

“Don't point a gun at her!” Dean roared, charging you two.

You were knocked backwards as Sam was pinned against the hood. The one holding the book started laughing, then. Dean was past reason. Shouting it over and over again as he ensured the both of you couldn't reach a weapon, or the witch.

He tackled Sam, pinned your body down with his boot. The women walked away, leaving their play toy to hold you two hostage. “She doesn't care about you, you idiot!”

“No,” Dean yelled out, falling backwards to use his ass instead to pin you. “Don't leave!” They didn't listen.

As they pulled away, Sam's hands tugged out a red block, “Hex bag!” It was tossed out of his hands as Dean pushed it away. Pulling his brother into a choke hold.

“Get off of me!” Your feet kicked. Hand grappled out for the monstrous little charm.

“I'm sorry, guys.” He wasn't even slightly sorry. “I just love her so much!”

A shock of electricity ran through your bodies, throwing you all apart. Ending the feud in seconds. Your eyes lifted to see a pair of heeled shoes making their way over to the bag that combusted with a purple flame.

“Hello boys,” An accented red head leered over you all. “And...girl?”

“Y/N,” Sam motioned out towards the woman. “Meet Rowena.”

“Ah,” You let your back rest against the Impala. Wincing at what you were sure was tread marks along your spine. “The witch.”

“You've been talking about me,” Pure scottish joy left her lips. You recognized the burr. “How sweet.”

That wasn't quite the word you'd use. Either way, you were grateful to her assistance. The curse had been lifted.

“She's awfully at home,” You acknowledged as the drinks were lined a few minutes later. Four tall glasses.

“Ask me,” Rowena encouraged, tipping the brandy into the first cup.

“How are you alive?” Dean questioned unsurely, keeping his eyes open as he watched for any funny business. Being hexed once in a day was more than enough.

“Lucifer told us he killed you.” Sam barked out, looking every bit as protective as he could. Not quite friendly with your kind at the moment. “Pretty, uh...pretty graphically.”

“And he did.” Her teeth clashed at that. A steadying breath calmed her before she continued, “But, I take precautions to ensure that if I die...” She capped the bottle as the last glass was filled. “It is temporary.”

“You're talking about a, uh...a resurrection spell. Like last time?” The younger Winchester pried for details. She turned around with three glasses in hand. A simple hum that sounded like the beginnings of a song was her answer. Confirming his theory.

Rowena grinned as she moved towards you all, “That said, it took a very long time to heal.” The glasses thudded against the wood as her voice hardened. “And, I'm not interested in it ever happening, again. Which is why I need the black grimiore.” Her eyes batted oh so sweetly towards Sam. Steady as ever, she walked over to her drink. Heels clicking against the floor.

“What a coincidence,” The dry tone Dean emitted made your lip twitch. You'd missed him during that brief time of overt joy. “You happen to show up right when it's stolen.”

“Oh, no coincidence,” There wasn't an ounce of shame as she turned back to face all you. “I felt the book moving. In a moment of weakness, I may have put a tracking spell on the grimoire behind your backs.” Her drink was lifted to her lips.

“Moment of weakness, huh?” Dean deadpanned, believing that there was damn well no weakness present in Rowena MacCleod. “Right.” Your finger traced your glass's rim as the older Winchester reached for his.

“Why do you want it so bad?” Sam spoke up, letting you take it all in. “Why now?”

“Oh, years ago,” She began dramatically. Drawing you in immediately, “The grand coven cast a binding spell limiting aspects of my magic.” Her face scrunched as she talked, clearly not thrilled at the prospect. “There's a page in the grimiore that may help.”

“Help you become more powerful?” Dean demanded, voice deep and hard. “Yeah, that's what we want.” His hand lifted to rub over his lips as he listened to the response.

“Help me protect myself.” Your fingers raised upwards, wrapping around the crystal you wore. You could empathize, though you hadn't gone to the extremes she had.

“Let me get this straight,” The younger Winchester was trying to process the newest dent in your paths. “You, uh, felt the book moving. And you decided, what? You'd...you'd...you'd show up and just take it?”

“Well, I thought about asking you nicely for it, but...” She returned, honey mixed with vinegar.

“Yeah, you knew we'd tell you to go to hell.” Was the finishing response from the ornery man in front of you.

“Exactly.” Another dramatic frown lined her pretty face. “Now, I'm worried the girls will damage the book, and you're worried about awful things they'll do with it...so...Let's help each other, shall we?”

“We don't need your help,” Sam rushed out. Lifting his drink with a smug smile. “We've handled witches before.”

“You're familiar with our work, right?” Dean joined in, arrogant as always.

“Make me feel safe and cozy, why don't you?” You grumbled their way. Earning a peaked interest from the centuries old woman who stood before you.

“Ah,” She grinned, then. A fond sigh leaving her lips, “Oh, you Winchesters.” She slowly approached the table, then. Grinding her lips together as she moved. “I've changed.” Her eyes landed on you. Dean tilted his head, face remaining blank as he waited for her to continue. “Honestly.” Sam's eyebrows lifted at that. Waiting to hear the tale she'd spin. “Having your skull crushed and being burned alive can do that to a girl.” Her response was loaded with sass. Staring them down stubbornly. “And, it's my tracking spell, so if you want to find those girls...”

“I'm sure we can find a way to tap into it without your help.” Your knee was patted, as if you were a pet. That wasn't flying.

“I believe her.” Your drink was lifted as all heads turned towards you. Two in dismay. One in glee.

“You don't even know her,” Dean scowled your way. Dismissing the idea with a flick of his hand.

“She's gotta better feeling oozing off of her than that bitch from earlier and her skanky sister.” Your eyes blinked innocently, making Sam's eyes roll.

“Well, lover?” Rowena grinned, rocking her hips theatrically towards Dean, making you snort. Another dirty look was your reward.

“Okay.” He bit out, unhappy with the turn of events. Sam's lips ticked a bit at his brother's expense.

“You'll need me,” She promised. “Slainte.” She toasted in Gaelic. To health.

“Slainte Mhat,” Your glass lifted, making the eyes all turn to you. To good health. Another look of betrayal was sent your way at the toast.

“Oh,” She took a drink before turning back to the table. Keeping her back towards you, “One more thing. Where's my son?” The answer came harsh and fast. “Fergus is dead?” There was a tremble in her voice at that. Your head tilted a bit, feeling the energy she carried swirling ever so slightly.

“Yep.” Sam answered.

“Killed himself for us.” Dean confirmed.

“That doesn't sound like him,” She bit out. Glancing over her shoulder, but not quite turning around. Finally, the younger Winchester seemed to catch onto what she was feeling.

“Right, well, Fergus,” The name sounded like a mock coming from Sam. “Uh...uh, Crowley.” He corrected, feeling better using that coinage. “Um, he had changed a lot. You'd have been proud of him.”

“Is that so?” Her voice gained a hopeful edge, then. As suddenly as it came, it ceased. “Fergus was my only child.” A crack broke through as she shuddered. “And, I promise you...” A deadly anger rose up inside of her from her grief. “I'd rather have a living son, even one that hated me, than a dead hero!” The snarl left her cold and furious. She poured more of the drink into the glass.

“Because of him...Lucifer is trapped in another reality. So...” The explanation Sam offered didn't seem to help.

“Yeah,” Dean spoke up. Eyes crinkling as he finished, “The devil's gone.”

“Oh, don't be stupid,” She spun around, then. Eyes wet from unshed tears.“He's never gone!”

“Okay, listen. I know what Lucifer is cap-”

“Okay,” She cringed, shutting down as Sam spoke up. “C...can we not? It's...it's like reminiscing about an abusive relationship. Why do that?” Rowena turned back away to recompose herself.

“Let's get back to the book.” The hard note in Dean's voice had no room for sympathy. You reached down to pinch his thigh sharply, earning a hiss. “What kind of hurt can these chicks do with it?” Your fingers were crushed with his, holding it for his protection under the table. You didn't enjoy the warm, rough skin. That's what you told yourself as you glared at him, anyway.

A deep sigh left her, “Oh, I'm sure they have big plans.” She promised, slowly turning to face you all again. Completely back in control.

“Sounds like you know 'em.” Sam pried, waiting for the answer to come. Sure enough, he got it.

“Just remember being a young, overly ambitious wee witch.” Her eyes met yours, again. “I'm sure you can relate?”

“Not on this scale,” Your legs crossed, and your wrist jerked. Attempting to free yourself. You got absolutely nowhere. “Couple of stupid spells, though. I'll own up to that.”

“I have to give them some credit,” Rowena admitted thoughtfully, turning back to the boys. “Out foxed you, didn't they?” The wicked grin on her face was nothing short of pleasure. She chuckled, then. Moving closer to the main victim. “Tell me...Did they get to fifth base?”

“There's no such thing as fifth base,” Dean looked up to her eyes. Not blinking as he stared her down.

“Oh, you poor, sheltered boy.” Her purr was entirely carnal. She bit her lip, no doubt thinking of what she was referencing as she turned away. “Anyway,” Back on the prowl, she left Dean wasting in confusion. Turning to his brother to figure out what she was talking about. Sam only motioned for him to let it go. “What's by is by. And who knows? If I help you, maybe you'll change your minds about helping me.”

“No.”

“Not happening.” Both men agreed wholeheartedly, smirking at the witch. Your eyes rolled up to the ceiling, yet again.

“Teach Dean what fifth base is, and I bet he changes his mind,” As you finished your brandy, your hand was twisted under the table. It had been well worth it to get your ounce of blood.

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger @lilulo-12 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @michaelneedssomemilk @lemondropirwin @fanfictionismydeath @neii3n @surmya1907

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @screechingartisancashbailiff @woodworthti666 @coldmuffinbanditshoe

63 notes · View notes

remythologise · 3 years

Note

Along with the absolute trashfire that the finale was, it's still amazing how they managed to create an absurd amount of new plot holes with the last REMAINING episode.

Like I dunno how excruciating it must've been as a writer to leave the story so wholly unfinished.

Everyday I find more and more examples of how badly the C*W fucked up, it's just laughable

this has already been discussed at length by various people on this cursèd webbed site but it’s literally so wild let’s go through and point out the plot holes as mentioned by linked posts and how they could have been fixed very very obviously from 15.18 (I mean every dumb filler episode should have been nuked, looking at you 15.16, and the Cas sacrifice happened sooner so we had more time for a full ending, but;)

Castiel’s grace was fading: obviously this was a cheap way to nuke Cas’ power levels for Power Level Reasons whenever convenient, however if he had become human and therefore been able to escape from the Empty OR sacrificed the last of his grace to do something cool we would be talking!

Ruby asks Castiel to save her from the Empty/Dean doesn’t ask Jack to rescue Castiel/Jack’s explosion in the Empty made the Empty loud/Are the other angels all out of The Empty too, or did Jack make more creepy human-angel hybrids?/Where’s Benny now?: completely obvious, the Empty and afterlife generally should have been dismantled with Cas’ help - either have Dean save Cas from the Empty and destroy that structure at the same time or have Cas restructure the afterlife and textually, on screen, include the fact he rescued the angels and demons in the Empty, redemption for the angels he killed during the show (Balthazar!). Have those entities given life or peace. (Ideally, demon souls are just human souls so they should be reformatted and perhaps reincarnated.)

The demons were rising up against/betraying Rowena/Did the gates of Hell ever get closed?: lmao I didn’t even remember this one but see above re; dismantling the structure of the afterlife because it’s always going to be inherently flawed. Personally I would have gone for a His Dark Materials/Good Place ending on this one (where either the characters are alive BUT when they die their souls become part of the universe like Jack, OR they exit the show with their own death and open the door to a new universe that we don’t get to see them in, literally outside the story) but that’s just me

If Chuck was gone, why give him his ending?: bad bad writing, but I also want to point out that Chuck literally got a better ending than ANY of the main characters, he was just made human. Like??? He can still abuse people and be a bad person or try to gain his power back??? He knows how the whole world works and could manipulate that to his advantage??? At least put him in jail??? Dean’s line about not being a killed was great but that didn’t mean they should just LEAVE THE DUDE THERE. Really feed into that humans = life, non-humans and minorities = death coding the end of the show leaned into hard (and s15 did as well in general)

Dean/Amara/Chuck: Dean’s connection to Amara and Amara’s connection to Chuck should have helped them defeat Chuck in the end instead of just erasing her existence. It should have been an Amara/Chuck situation where they both bequeath the Earth to the others and leave/die together.

Dean says the only way to honour those they lost is if the keep living: well first of all they didn’t need to lose anyone because Jack but secondly Dean Winchester should absolutely have gotten to live his toes in the sand ending with his remaining found family. Lamp episode

Sam forget’s about Eileen in 15x20 / Obviously no closure on Dean and Castiel: there are multiple references to Sam/Dean talking about settling down with someone ‘from the life’ and how that could work when a civilian life wouldn’t AND THEN----- (also we can’t talk about how the ‘don’t you ever think about it?’ Sam says is now LITERALLY A REFERENCE TO CASTIEL)

Dean says he’s not the ultimate killer and then goes back to being a killer: see above. He was going to live and maybe occasionally hunt but mostly live and grow and love.

All of the side characters/other hunters get Thanos snapped and then we don’t hear from them again/What was up with Sam’s witchcraft and leadership arc that never went anywhere?: Picture this: Sam and Eileen head up a new network of hunters which honours (OG) Bobby’s memory. Hmmm. Winchester legacy. Hmmmm. Leadership arc. Sam should also get into Witch stuff and draw in the other factions of magical humans into the hunter/MOL fold.

What happened about Heaven’s power issues?/Time moves differently in heaven how/Who’s running Heaven?: Call me a non-Christian, but Heaven ending is so wild and bad. Do bad things ever happen in Heaven? Is there conflict? How boring is it? Why bother living a life on Earth if you can live one in Heaven? How is Heaven vs. Hell allocation decided? WHY IS JOHN WINCHESTER- anyway, the point is, human ending where they live and are happy thanks

Adding my own in for fun: How come Jack and Cas consistently think they might not be truly loved by the Winchesters and are just useful to them and Dean NEVER REASSURES EITHER ONE OF THEM OF THE TRUTH BEFORE THEY ARE SACRIFICED: anyway! as I said, Destiel endgame and Jack shouldn’t have been God (or if he had to be, he should have also have still been able to be a kid too, because he’s worth more than his use to the Winchester Brother Freedom Cause). But once again just think there’s no real reason he had to be God

Becky and Atomic Monsters: I would also accept Becky being revealed as God at some point, but at the very least she should have been given a meta-adjacent scene in the finale. The way she literally called out every way the finale would be bad... brain worms

#feel free to yell about any I missed this is just. off the top of my head + those posts #long post for ts #I am just saying even putting destiel aside the narrative was all there.... what happened #ask #anonymous #kira for ts #supernatural for ts

39 notes · View notes

mittensmorgul · 3 years

Note

So for the most part, I outright reject the finale. But I do think, in light of the whole "Jimmy was supposed to be in the bar, and Dean was disappointed by that because his perfect heaven would have Cas in it" just makes me all the more convinced that the final episode was some kind of djinn dream. Like.... There's no other explanation in my opinion. If Dean's perfect heaven was supposed to have Cas, and he tragically gets faked out by Jimmy (????? Why tf would jimmy be there anyway), it just proves that it's not ACTUALLY heaven. That, along with he El Sol beer he's drinking is all the evidence I need. I think after 15x19, Dean and Sam got whammied by some monster, and are stuck in a hallucination, and that's what we're seeing. (My headcanon is that it's actually The Empty doing it, because it knows if it doesn't keep Dean and Sam occupied and spinning in circles, they'll invade the Empty to save Cas. So its trying to prevent that) :)

Hello, anon friendo! I am gonna start by offering the socially distanced version of a high five, because yeah... There is just so much to unpack here, and you provided such a succinct and all-encompassing series of statements to start from. Thank you!

*flings open array of questionable suitcases*

First off, Congrats on having rejected the finale. I know a lot of folks are still struggling with that one, for many reasons. But you have hit upon so many of the points I’ve been trying to make about the finale since it aired. I’d just like to start with some of the assumptions I’ve heard from folks about the finale that make it impossible for me to consider it fully honestly canon. Because so much about it just makes no goshdang sense... like... not at all...

One of the biggest issues I have surrounding the reception of the finale in parts of fandom is that it portrayed a “happy ending.” The show itself spent the entire final season telling us that a gravestone marked Winchester was not and never would be a happy ending (thank you Becky Rosen-- words I never thought I’d say, but honestly and most sincerely meant). Let’s break this down a bit.

Starting from the assumption that “heaven was fixed” so that characters could have true free will there, making it satisfying in any way that Dean died so young and never got to truly experience happiness during life, I would like anyone who has adopted this attitude to then explain Kansas the band. I mean... explain that in any satisfactory canon-compliant way. (hint: you can’t. it makes zero sense in canon, if heaven is truly reformed and “happy” with everyone in possession of free will.)

Which brings me to Misha’s comments about Jimmy being in the Roadhouse. Why, if heaven were truly fixed, would Jimmy ever in a bazillion years attend a party for Dean Winchester? If Heaven were truly a “happy” ending for Dean, why introduce this element of eternal tragedy and heartbreak to his heaven experience? Why taunt him with the eternal loss of Cas-- even if you don’t think he reciprocated Cas’s romantic feelings, he was canonically the best friend Dean ever had, and being forced to exist forever in a place where he had everyone else he ever cared for except for Cas? Is frankly horrific.

How the actual fuck is that a happy ending, in any sense of the word?

How is this the sort of heaven that Dean would’ve made for himself before it was “fixed?” At least in the memorex heaven, he could’ve lived in oblivious peace with Cas, even if it was always just his own memories and not ~actually Cas~. I honestly think that would’ve been happier than the abject tragedy of what we did get, and what we would’ve gotten had the original script played out.

All of this kind of makes me wonder if they ever even actually defeated Chuck. Like... it feels more like Dean got pulled into the Empty at that moment with Cas and Billie, and everything else after that point was the Empty’s endless experience of sorrow and despair we knew it subject its charges to. So that’s one potential for what could’ve actually happened. I mean, everything about the finale was sorrow and despair, you know? Dean didn’t even get to enjoy his pie at a pie festival because Sam smashed in in his face. How is any of it happy, in any way?

Because if that was actually heaven, there wasn’t actually any free will (because why tf would Kansas the band have chosen to put on that concert? why tf would Jimmy have been there, just to torment Dean with the taunt of Cas returning to him only to have that hope snatched away again? It’s cruel. It’s, in fact, a source of intense despair).

The djinn theory could also work, and I’ve read some excellent fix-it fic using that as a premise. But that doesn’t really explain what happened to Jack (and Amara, since she was in there with them) after hoovering up Chuck’s power, you know? I think the simplest explanations in canon are that Chuck actually won via the unified power of Light and Dark being transferred into Jack and effectively using him as a vessel. With Sam and Dean convinced they’d won, they effectively stopped resisting Chuck’s story for them, and using Jack’s understanding of humanity and the Winchesters specifically, Chuck finally was able to implement a version of his story that the Winchesters would just waltz into without thinking it was supernaturally influenced at all. Going bigger and bigger with monsters and cosmic troubles hadn’t worked, but going so small Sam and Dean would barely even notice the influence-- even with the incongruous reappearance of a vampire that appeared in their lives once, for like two whole minutes 15 years ago, and an unsolved case from the journal from more than 30 years ago that John had never even linked to vampires at all.

At this point, I need to mention that I’m watching 10.23 as I type this up. An episode in which we confront the Mark, along with Death, and Dean’s despair, where he learns a version of the truth (but by no means the full truth, or even accurate truth in some respects) about Chuck’s Story, Amara/The Darkness, etc. That would unfold more fully over the next five seasons. And what was the case Dean took in this episode? Vampires. LOLOL omg this show is nothing if not horrifically consistent, yes?

So because of this, I went haring off through my own blog looking for a post I made a long time ago about the symbolism of how various monsters are used on this show (because again, consistency). I got sidetracked by other posts in my monsters tag, including this from after 15.09 aired, which feels particularly awfully relevant. This was my reaction to Chuck’s Story he showed Sam in that episode, about what the future would look like should he successfully trap Chuck with a Mark, and which... yeah is basically exactly thematically consistent with what we saw in the finale, right down to a cheesy twist on vampires. Read the whole post right here, but this is the part that reached up and punched me in the face:

this is how Dean personally reacts when he loses Cas. We know how he reacts when he loses anyone else– think about what he did when Charlie died. He went on a murder rampage against the Stynes for killing her. When Mary died he broke some furniture and went full bore toward both resurrecting her and stopping Jack. But without Cas, Dean loses the will to fight. Sam has… always been different. He referenced Jess in 15.04 to remind us of how he was after she died in the pilot episode. Just like John, he picked up the revenge mission and ran with it. But for Dean, Cas is different. Without Cas… Dean gives up.

Because... Dean gave up. Sure, he and Sam weren’t overrun by vampires in the end. Chuck knew they’d never stop fighting the monsters, one way or another. The only way to get Dean to give up is something Chuck hadn’t quite figured out yet... maybe not until after 15.17, after confronting Cas in the hallway of the bunker, after absorbing Amara’s power, knowledge, and perspective on Dean.

Chuck needed Dean to give up, and honestly? Pushing Billie to clear him off the table and send him (and Cas, that pesky angel who never did what he was told) to the Empty would’ve been a direct way to deal with that... pretty much akin to having one sibling locked in a cage forever, yes?

Also, still looking through my monsters tag, I’m reminded of 14.15, and still cannot differentiate the version of Heaven in 15.20 from what was done to the people of that town. This... is not... paradise. This is actively what Dean has been insisting is the OPPOSITE of paradise since like… 4.22… No ending where Dean was a “Stepford bitch in paradise” ever had the possibility of being “happy,” at the core of things, and this “fixed” version of Heaven just doesn’t hold up to any degree of inspection. Something is seriously wrong here. https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/183465650390/so-can-we-talk-about-this-monster-of-the-week-for

And since I was unable to find the post I wrote who knows how long ago about Monsters and how they’re symbolically used on Supernatural to represent larger themes in the episode, I’ll just attempt to sum up what Vampires have been used for. Revenge. Vampires are always, in some way connected to themes of revenge.

(and hooray, I found at least a post adjacent to the one I’ve spent the last four hours trying to find... https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/187207052080/i-obviously-did-not-think-this-through, where I mention that shapeshifters are about revealing hidden truths (mostly about Dean since most shapeshifters are connected to Dean), zombies are about grief and the inability to move past it.)

So why... why at the end of their road is the monster that comes after them-- literally FOR REVENGE for something that had never been blamed on Sam or Dean to begin with, from season 1, directly connected to John’s revenge mission and the first time they learned about the Colt AND the first time they learned in canon that Vampires were even real... like... this feels very specifically like some kind of layers-of-meta levels of shade on them, you know? Vampires are for revenge, so what vengeance exactly is being visited upon Sam and Dean in this episode? If not Chuck’s entire story for them itself?

So yeah, 100% agree, something is incredibly rotten in the finale. And I am sick to effing death of people trying to convince us that anything about this was “good” or “happy” or “satisfying” in any way. Or even “how it was always supposed to end” with Dean dead bloody, as if the entire back half of the series hadn’t been suggesting that a true win was the subversion of all of Chuck’s story for them, and Dean finally being able to have his chosen family all alive, happy, and chilling on a beach somewhere watching the sunset. Nothing will ever convince me that the ending portrayed in 15.20 wasn’t exactly how Chuck thought he “won,” rendering it entirely irrelevant to the rest of canon, unless all of canon was ultimately the tragedy we’d been encouraged to believe would be firmly defeated in the end.

Folks, you can’t have it both ways.

#spn 15.20 #chuck's process #if this was the 'happy' ending for dean they sure did fail big time to make it actually happy!#it makes me feel sick thinking that dean's happy heaven ending was more like an eternal pit of torment #like actively tormenting him and taunting him with the fact that cas was truly gone forever #like wow they went all the fuck out to make it clear that even in heaven #dean would never be allowed to respond to cas's declaration of love #like... it's the most hurtful and hateful thing the show could possibly have done to us #and it still fucks me up knowing there's people who think this heaven was a 'good' ending for dean #like... fuck that entirely and with extreme prejudice #i feel like i have not been emphatic enough about my absolute hatred for this episode in these tags #but sadly there are limitations to expressing the actual feelings i'm feeling in the english language #sometimes the only effective word for these feelings involves velociraptor screeching #Anonymous

123 notes · View notes

destieltropecollection · 4 years

Photo

Destiel Trope Collection 2020 Day 5: Case Fic

Fearful | @deansrightfulangerissue

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1430 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, IT Crossover, Angst Summary: It comes for children, it feeds on their fears. Dean and Cas arrive to end its reign of terror.

He Wanted More (WIP) | @becky-srs

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1621 Main Tags/Warnings: #HeWantedMore #Destiel Summary: After years of self-denying and depressing Dean realized he's in love with Cas. Cas loves him too but this two morons won't see it, until Sam takes of with Eileen to a romantic vacation and put Dean and Cas on a case with a monster who kills gay couples what takes them to be an undercover couple... may the cover fall and revel their true feelings?

Curse me | @notfunnydean

Rating: General Word Count: 3099 Main Tags/Warnings: Dean loves balett!! Summary: Dean had always loved ballet, even though he never told anyone about that. When he and Sam find cursed ballet shoes, Dean can’t resist and tries them on anyway. He gets surprised in more than just one way.

Lost and Found | @unforth & @deansrightfulangerissue

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4885 Main Tags/Warnings: Horror, Ambiguous Ending, Memory Alteration Summary: Dean and Sam's hunt in a haunted forest was bullshit from the moment the fog rolled in. And then the ghost silenced the world.

On This Night | @mittensmorgul

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5688 Main Tags/Warnings: case fic, djinn, fluff, dean knows his tropes Summary: Something goes terribly wrong while hunting a djinn. Newly-human Cas had never considered what the effects of djinn poison could be for a human, and struggles to remember why everything seems just so slightly off when he wakes up back at the cabin he and Dean had been staying in during the hunt. The cabin has been transformed with holiday decorations, and Cas wonders just how long he'd been unconscious. Only when he tries to get answers from Dean, reality comes crashing back in on them both, in the best of all possible ways.

Heavenly Flavor | @songbird211

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7190 Main Tags/Warnings: First Time/Fluff/lust monster/Sam Ships It/Anal/Blowjobs/Nipple Play/Top Dean/Top Cas/Bottom Dean/Bottom Cas/Voyeurism/Wing Kink/Love Confession Summary: During a case involving college men going missing Dean and Cas are taken by the creature responsible. This creature loves having sex with humans, hence the kidnappings, but this time she wants to fulfill her fantasy of watching two men have sex and she thinks Dean and Cas will do nicely.

The Unexpected Consequences of Amnesia | @pray4jensen

Rating: Mature Word Count: 10539 Main Tags/Warnings: Casefic, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jealousy, Secret Relationship, Miscommunication, Dubious Consent Summary: When a spell backfires and results in Sam losing a year’s worth of memories, Sam’s really not that worried. After all, Dean reassures him that he hasn’t missed much and for the first time in a long time, the supernatural world’s at peace. Except then Dean and Cas exchange a look. Except then Sam keeps seeing them sneak around at night, into each other’s bedrooms, or whispering stealthily into each other’s ears whenever they think that he’s not looking. So naturally, Sam just has to investigate. Or the one where Sam obliviously and almost single-handedly brings about the collapse of Dean and Cas’ marriage in the span of one week.

Angeleech | @noiproksa

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 14457 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Compliant, Team Free Will, Hugs, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Castiel, Banter, Platonic Cuddling, Sharing a Bed, Case Fic Summary: It was supposed to be an easy hunt, but then everything goes sideways. Dean and Sam have to take care of an injured Cas and find out what is going on with the angel before it is too late. (Intended as gen, but can be read as Destiel pre-slash.)

Ten Inch Hero | @banshee1013

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 16689 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Canon Compliant, Case Fic, Season/Series 15 Spoilers, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Witch Curses, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Men of Letters Bunker, Researching Sam Winchester, No Archive Warnings Summary: After returning from Purgatory the second time, Castiel and Dean were just beginning to explore the new direction of their relationship, when on a case involving missing hunters, Dean is struck by a witch's curse and turned into a ten-inch plastic figurine. Can Sam find a way to revert the effects of the curse and return Dean to himself before the tiny spark of life Cas detects in him fades away? Or will Cas lose Dean just as their relationship has begun?

Trouble in Paradise | @its-funnier-in-klingon

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1746 Main Tags/Warnings: canon divergence, human!Cas, post 14x09, Hawaii, case fic, bed-sharing, ghosts, mutual pining Summary: Sam finds a case where gay couples are being tormented by a ghost in a resort in Kauai, Hawaii. Sam, Dean, Cas, and Jack embark to the resort where Dean and Cas must go undercover to take down the ghost, all while trying to sort through all their own personal issues.

Unthought Known | @noiproksa

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 18337 Main Tags/Warnings: Temporary Amnesia, Profound Bond, Team Free Will, Banter, Canon Compliant, Hugs, Case Fic, Soul Bond Summary: Dean wakes up in an abandoned mental institution with no memories and two strange guys, ‘Sam’ and ‘Castiel.’ They have to work together if they want to find out who they are and what happened to them. And what the hell is this profound bond he seems to share with Castiel? * Dean woke up with a pounding headache on the floor of a bright white, windowless room and no recollection of how he got there. What the hell was he doing in what looked like some sort of psych ward? Before he could get his bearings, he heard moaning coming from behind him and got to his feet, swiveling around, ready to fight whoever was in the room with him. ‘Whoever’ turned out to be two someones. One man with abnormally long hair and one guy in a trench coat who had a ‘tax accountant’ vibe to him. Who were these clowns? (Intended as gen, but can be read as Destiel pre-slash.)

Suck It, Judy Garland | @midrashic

Rating: Mature Word Count: 20116 Main Tags/Warnings: N/A Summary: It had to be St. Louis. Or, the one where Sam and Cas get fake married for a case, and Dean loses his mind.

Making it Up as We Go | @Foxymoley

Rating: Mature Word Count: 24439 Main Tags/Warnings: Case fic, ghost, Angel!Cas, choose your own adventure Summary: A choose your own adventure story! The Winchester's catch a case—an ordinary salt and burn—but Dean's decisions along the way are up to you!

The Memory Remains | FriendofCarlotta (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 28408 Main Tags/Warnings: Case fic, post-canon, POV Dean Winchester Summary: With Chuck defeated, Dean's trying hard to get his head back in the game. What he needs is a bit of peace and quiet, and maybe a nice, straightforward hunt. What he most definitely doesn't need is this thing about monsters trying to summon some kind of hermaphroditic goat person. Or dealing with Cas, whose powers are still failing and who is acting more human in increasingly disconcerting ways.

Human Error | @jemariel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 33435 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate season 9, case fic, wendigos, human Castiel, Cas in the bunker, miscommunication, drunk sex, top!Dean, bottom!Cas, 69 (sex position), bedsharing Summary: Cas is human now, and things aren't going to plan. (Not that Dean had a plan. Nope. No plans of any kind.) Anyway, what's a Winchester to do when everything he tries seems to blow up in his face? Go hunting. Obviously.

Fade to Hell | @alisuwink **Also in English**

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 37549 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sam Winchester,Alastair (Supernatural), Bobby Singer, Slow Burn, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Universe, Season/Series 05, Fanart, Action/Adventure, Violence, Dark, Humor, Hell, Tortured Dean Winchester, Madness, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester Summary: It didn’t seem to be enough with Lucifer wandering free and the Apocalypse up our asses. Of course not! Now, Sammy’s soul has ended in fucking Hell, and I have no choice but to go down to that fucking hole with Castiel. When we rescue Sam, he is going to be buying me beers for the rest of his damn life. *Note: the fic is finished in Spanish, I'll have it in English by June.

Highway 9 | @ellis-park

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 38909 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, mutual pining, suicide attempt Summary: Dean Winchester is a private investigator working what should be an open-and-shut vandalism case on an isolated stretch of rural highway. Except it’s not an open-and-shut case, because whatever is happening on Highway 9 isn’t vandalism — it’s something far more sinister and unnatural. And if Dean is going to get to the bottom of this case, he’s going to have to rely on the one person he’s learned he can’t rely on for anything — his ex-best friend, Cas Novak.

Someone Who’s Feeling for Me | @ellis-park

Rating: Mature Word Count: 45876 Main Tags/Warnings: Mutual pining, case fic, canon universe Summary: Dean sees her for the first time in nearly six years in some no-name town in Idaho, and it's panic at first sight. Lisa Braeden, the one woman Dean ever actually had a shot at a real life with, back from where he buried her in his mind. And her hand is on Cas's arm like it's no big deal, like it belongs there. Cas, Dean's dorky, sweet, badass, angelic best friend, and he's just standing there next to Lisa and not moving her hand away. Dean feels the jealousy rising, and it's not directed where he expected it to be. Because it takes this exact moment for Dean to realize he's in love with his best friend. He's in love with his best friend, and Lisa is looking at Cas like he's the best thing since automatic rifles, and Dean is utterly fucked.

Silver and Cold | @pomegranatedaffodil

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 64851 Main Tags/Warnings: Case Fic, Hunter Castiel, Small Town Setting, Religious Themes, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Injuries, Minor Character Death,Tragic Backstory, Nightmares, Angst with a Happy Ending, Switching Summary: The death of a young man in an apparent animal attack brings hunter Cas Novak to the small town of Sydnam, Maine. It doesn’t take long for him to realize he’s tracking a werewolf, but discovering the killer’s identity is no easy task. All signs point towards Dean Winchester, a lonely recluse who lives in the middle of the woods and whose antagonistic behaviour does little to lessen Cas’ suspicions. As the investigation drags on, their mutual distrust gives way to a wary alliance. Cas’ instincts warn him that Dean is hiding something, but as he uncovers the man beneath the mystery, his professional interest becomes far more personal. Praying his faith in Dean isn’t misplaced, Cas races to catch the killer before the next full moon rises and another life is abruptly cut short.

#destiel trope collection 2020 #destiel trope collection #Destiel #case fic #day 5

262 notes · View notes

vanchlo · 3 years

Text

The Partner / Chapter Twelve, "The Resolute"

Word Count: 8.4k / Story Masterlist / Read The Assistant / Read on Wattpad / Song: Hold Me While You Wait by Lewis Capaldi (click to listen) / Warning: Sensitive and upsetting topics, such as death, grief, and miscarriage

"I never know when I will miss you. I can't ever predict just what will grip my heart with the reminder that you are gone. It could be anything. Anytime. Anywhere. You are everywhere and nowhere all at once. When the days are bright, I am blinded by your presence and even when the world is dark I still manage to find you. In laughter, I hear the echo of losing you. Your presence is overflowing in the tears that fall. Now that your body is gone, everything holds your being. I miss you in the cold depths of winter and I long for you in the thick summer breeze. You are my first rising thought in the morning and my last notion as I sink into the heaviness of the night. I thought we ran out of moments together, but every moment seems to belong to you. How can you be everywhere when you are nowhere to be seen? I used to worry about facing the world because I didn't know what would trigger my heartache. I used to be afraid of every feeling, every memory, every moment because I didn't know which ones held you. Now I know you are everywhere and I think that I know why. You're everywhere because you're somewhere inside of who I am. I am the bearer of your life and your memory. I am the keeper of your existence. Even though you're gone, I never really have to search for you. I never know where I'll find you but you are always there. I never know when I will miss you and it happens all the time"

- Rachel Whalen

I had lost count of how many times I had fallen back asleep since he had left for another day of work, the second time in the last few days. I’d be telling a lie if I said that I didn’t miss him, because like he’d confessed when he thought I was sleeping, I missed him all of the time too. The difference was that I felt it now when he was gone. I wasn’t sure why I’d bitten his head off that night about going back to work. I did but couldn’t think about it after the way he broke down in front of me and I just stood there. I didn’t do a thing. Instead, I shook my head and pushed him away. God, how could I do that to him? I thought he’d moved on . . . That’s how it went. I’d wake up to an empty, cold bed and the guilt would come in crashing waves. The hot tears would follow and eventually, I’d fall back into another fitful sleep. Nightmares were almost always guaranteed, but for the first time in our relationship, I comforted myself back to sleep. Somehow, they didn’t wake him like before, but last night when he woke with a gasp that melted into tears, I think I knew because he was busy with his own.

At first, I thought I’d been imagining it, or maybe that was just my coping mechanism by now. Denial and pretending. No, it really was and it went around like a circle. Denying the denial. But when the knocking on the door turned into the dinging of the doorbell, I knew that it was real. It didn’t stop after a few times, like the mailman would. No, this person was persistent, and I definitely was not. I couldn’t even find the strength to move to look at the alarm clock to see the time. By then, it had stopped. He’d only been gone an hour now and I missed him deeply, finding it hard to not pick up the phone to ask him to come home. I did but in my own way, and not one he’d understand, despite how he knew every page of my book.

I hope work is going well

Only a few minutes passed before a reply came in with a silent vibration.

thanks it is, just meetings again and an interview

Sounds boring. I know how you hate both. New hire?

possibly. i forgot to tell u gwen left. i hope ur getting some rest

No, you hadn’t but that’s ok. I think I only talked to her like 5 times. I’m trying.

ya she was good, just kept 2 herself. want me 2 pick up anything for lunch? anything soundin good? Starbucks? pizza? u can have whatever u want

You can pick

At that, I heard my phone lock before placing it face down onto the bedside table, not able to continue a conversation about food any longer. Another wave of irrational tears came at missing him and wanting normalcy back, but the fitful sleep didn’t follow. I wasn’t sure if I was regretful or not when I peeled back the covers, shocked by the sudden cold.

The chilling silence filling the house hit me in the face when I stepped out into the hallway. It had been choking at times, mostly at night when things were at their worst. During the day, like now, it was never this quiet. Something on the tv was always playing, and I soon found myself in front of it, watching the end of a Marvel movie Harry and I once watched.

Its sequel was nearing the halfway point by the time the doorbell rang again. It was on its fourth time now and the person still hadn’t stopped. The surprise on their face was just as strong as that of mine when I found myself at the door, in front of Harry’s grandmother.

“Hi, Becky,” she said softly, a warm cadence to her words like always. I may have been biased towards grandmas, but Harry’s checked all of the points and more. I couldn’t help the squeeze of my heart at the mere sight of her, a melancholy smile spreading on her lips.

“Claire. Um, hi. Harry isn’t here right now, he had to go into work this morning,” I rush, unsure of why I’m telling her this, except for I know why. I hadn’t spoken to another human being that wasn’t Harry or my doctor since . . since it had happened. Sure, texts to Skye, my dad, and Robbie. It was the only way to placate them from telling them I didn’t want to see them. Can I blame them, though?

“Oh, that’s okay. I was uh, hoping I could come in,” she suggests. I stand there, taken aback by her request. I had come to love this woman like she was my own grandmother, and yet here I am, not opening the door for her. “Maybe we could wait for him together with some brookies.”

Dropping my eyes, I watch as she lifts a saran wrapped plate of chocolatey looking cookies. I didn’t need to look any longer to know what they were. Her famous brownie cookies that Harry had compared any cookie or brownie of mine to over the years, and I eventually had found out why.

“You know I can’t turn those down,” I mumble, feeling the first hints of a smile. She grins for me instead, following me into the house that somehow feels even emptier when we step inside. Awkwardly, I closed the door behind her, pulling my hands back into the oversized King’s College crewneck of Harry’s I’d stolen long ago. “Can I . . Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water? Tea?” I stumble, watching as she takes a seat at the island, setting down one of those cloth bags beside her.

“Coffee would be fine, honey,” she says, and always with a smile. I welcome the distraction, feeling as if I’d forgotten how to talk to another person. No, I know that I have. I hadn’t even been able to carry on a conversation with Harry, nonetheless his grandmother.

At times, I still felt uncomfortable around his parents, especially his dad. If there was one of them that I felt the easiest around, it was Claire. I’m reminded of the bouquet of black eyed susans probably now wilting on the table when she notes the array of flowers taking up space over there. I nod at her words while closing the lid of the instant coffee machine, placing a tall mug underneath the spout. The compassionate words scribbled in her cursive with its accompanying card come back to me, and suddenly, the steaming coffee grows blurry before my eyes. Sometimes, I wondered if she had a feeling about things like me, because as the first tear fell, she speaks an apology.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced. I had let Harry know I was in town and would stop by today, but he must have forgotten to mention it to you,” she begins in a low volume, a Harry-like molasses shining in her voice. I mumble an ‘it’s okay’ while watching the coffee continue to fill the mug. It’s almost done, but then what will I do to distract myself? “Harry had said your fridge was quite full, but I couldn’t help but make a few of your favorites to bring you both. Times like these, cooking feels like the last thing you want to do.”

“A lot of things do,” I find myself saying, surprising her I’m sure and especially myself. I hadn’t even been able to find it in myself to put that feeling into words and say them to Harry. It was a blessing and a curse how we could read each other so well, but I know I’d closed myself off from him a long time ago. On accident and then, on purpose.

Ripples form across the surface of the liquid as the last few drops plummet into the dark abyss. I wait, staring at the steam rising from the mug, unsure as to why. A silence had embedded itself into these walls so long ago I couldn’t remember, and it sat between us now too. I still didn’t know how to broach it, and there was no nudging the switch that would let me talk about her. I truly didn’t know how to, not even to her father. Sometimes, I wanted to forget her so I’d stop hurting, but that felt like an impossibility and then a crime. Gulping, I wipe at my cheeks and thread my fingers through the ceramic handle.

“Those are a beautiful assortment of flowers,” she comments again when I set the drink down in front of her. A forced ‘thank you’ leaves my lips when I turn around and walk towards the fridge. “You and Harry are so loved, and so was your baby.”

I’d opened this fridge how many times over the years, and now as the handle sits in my palm, I can’t find it in myself to do it. The forgotten coupons, lists, photographs, drawings from Harper and Ollie, and magnets grew hazy before my eyes. The hum of the coffee machine cooling down wasn’t enough to mask the whimper that escaped my lips, no matter how desperately I tried to shove it down. After breathing in and out a few times, it still didn’t help, but I was able to open the door and grab what I’d needed.

Keeping my head down, I set the coffee creamer in front of her, not spending a second more facing her with the damage on my cheeks. As the spoon clinks against the sides of her mug, I distract myself by finding room in the fridge for the filled tupperware containers she’d taken from the bag. Scribbled labels adorn the top of each one, but I look past them as I stack them on a shelf. From the corner of my eye, I saw her stand from her seat to look at the flowers, thumbing at the typed messages. It’s not until the last one is snug against a container of yogurt and strawberries that somebody says something.

“They always say the same things, don’t they?” she murmurs with an out of place scoff, sounding like a hum from her lips. The tears had dried up as I thought about how to fit a container of beef stroganoff amongst tater tot casserole, but when I turned around, her face still falls. “It was the same with Steven too. They all say that they understand, but there’s no way that they can. They hadn’t lost their spouse, or . . their baby.” This roots me to the spot and we spend the next few moments looking at each other as her Soft Rose lipsticked lips fall.

“I didn’t want to come, Becky, because I know that when I lost my loves, I wanted to be alone. But that was where my demons lied in wait, and I don’t want you to go through the same thing I did when I lost my baby,” she continues. I couldn’t tell if it was the light or the way my eyes deceive me with a returning wetness, but a similar glint appears in hers. It holds my attention for a mere moment until my heart starts to pound against my ribs. “Steven and I were a little younger than you and Harry when we lost our baby at four months.”

There could be no saving my throat nor my eyes as I gulp against the dryness, feeling all of the wetness detour down my face. Her words ricochet inside of me, bouncing off walls. For the first time in too long, they sink in and make me feel something. I resist at first, not wanting to let my chest shake or my heart race, but there’s no stopping it. Staring back at her, she quietly sits back down and takes a sip from her coffee. Looking back to me, a corner of her mouth twitches as a gleaming droplet beads at her chin.

“What has it been now? Fifty five years and I still miss them . . my little baby,” the blood pounds in my ears as I stare at her in what, amazement? Horror? Complete and utter surprise? Probably, all of them.

“Gran, I-I never knew,” a voice says from behind me. Turning, another wave of shock courses through me at the sight of Harry with his hand on the door to the garage.

“I never told anybody, except for my immediate family when it had happened . . The thing was, the taboo around miscarriages and infertility hasn’t changed a whole lot since then. It disappoints me really . . Back then, you didn’t talk about it. Now, sometimes you talk about it, but it’s just the same. It’s near to impossible to speak about. Friends and family want to say something, but they don’t know how to without hurting you. So, instead of mentioning the loved one you lost, people don’t when they think of them, and they’re forgotten. That’s always been my worst fear, and I don’t want either of you to go through that- I cried when your mother told me what had happened, Harry. My heart breaks for the both of you, knowing that you’re going through the same nightmare that my Steven and I did.”

A puff leaves his lips and I can almost hear him gulp as sound evades us. Words haven’t been a friend to my lips in what feels like months, and right now isn’t an exception.

“I’m so sorry, Gran.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Harry. I’m so sorry that you lost your baby . . I heard it was a girl, your daughter,” her words are ginger and slow. Somehow, another piece joins the puzzle, but it still leaves me staring at the floor as tidal waves crash inside of me. “It was a long time ago, but I still miss them and wonder who they’d be. I’m sorry to say that never goes away, and that the whole b-s of ‘time heals all wounds’ isn’t entirely true. You just build up scar tissue to it, but some days are worse than others. I miss Steven terribly some days, like the day you announced your engagement, and your pregnancy. When your mother told me over the phone three weeks ago, I wished he could’ve been there too, for you to talk to about fathers losing a child. Men are still pressured to not show emotions but it was just as hard on him to lose our baby, and sometimes fathers are forgotten.”

A mess of emotions roils inside of me, flipping my stomach upside down. My heart too, arguably. The last sound that I make out is a sniffle of his before I’m bringing my hands to my eyes, and sobbing against them. It felt like I stood there for minutes before escaping down the hall, when it was only a few seconds in reality.

I wasn’t certain if they knew what I did. That I could hear them from the bedroom down the hall, the place I’d come to retreat to instead of Harry’s arms. I felt him coming towards me just moments ago, but I couldn’t do it. I think I’d almost forgotten what his touch felt like. If they thought I could hear them, they probably had mistaken me for being asleep or for not listening. I think they tried to keep their voices down, but despite Harry being a closet musician, there wasn’t much for treatment to these walls. He’d joked before about having sex one night his mom stayed here but I pushed him away, chalking it up to thin walls.

Now, the memory wasn’t that funny to me as I heard their conversation. I almost felt guilty, as if I was cheating by hearing them, but this was the only way I could take part in a conversation I know I should be part of. I didn’t think that I could even speak if I had wanted to, because of the hiccuped sobs that filled my chest, making it hard to speak. I know that I made the right decision when my head rests against the door upon hearing about what they say next, about me.

“I can hardly get her to have a conversation with me, Gran. Let alone about . . about the baby.”

“Oh, Harry. You just have to give her time.”

“I know and I have, but it’s becoming all the harder to feel as time passes. She’s getting worse and I’m barely staying put together. It scares me so much, because I don’t want to lose her too. If I did, I’d lose everything I have to live for.”

At last, the sound of my choked sobs drowned out that of their voices. By the time my lungs calmed down and my heart hardened once more, it was quiet. I missed his voice despite how it had almost betrayed me to another, and made me hurt. My rumbling stomach ultimately won the race and it was what led me down the hall, and without knowing, back to her. I blamed it on the appetizing smell wafting from the kitchen.

I’d already seen her and had decided to keep going, but upon passing the island where she sat again, I heard her intake of breath. Harry wasn’t anywhere to be seen, despite the wiped clean plate in the sink with the large fork and an empty can. He was the only one who used them and who drank the sparkling waters that I thought tasted like bug spray.

“I’m so sorry, Becky. The last thing I wanted was to upset you, honey.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Frankly, I’m rather tired of people saying those two words, but thank you,” I return, a steadiness arriving in my voice that I didn’t know I’d missed. “Can I-?”

“Of course, it’s all yours,” she insists with a smile. Nodding, I pick up the serving spoon and a plate, feeling my stomach grow happy at the sight and smell of her famous homemade lasagna. “There’s garlic bread in the oven and salad in the fridge. I’m just going to use the little girl’s room.”

I almost smile, realizing that I’ve missed her and just maybe, I feel okay enough to talk about it. I’d found a seat at the island beside her empty cup of coffee, already digging into the lasagna. An almost embarrassing moan left my lips at the taste of the layers of cheese, pasta, and bolognese sauce.

“Leave it to Claire to find the way to your heart,” somebody comments. Turning, I find Harry walking towards me with a tilt to his lips. He unrolls the hem of a Queen Bohemian Rhapsody shirt, looking more like himself now that he’s out of a suit. Sometimes, I still catch myself thinking that it was always the opposite, seeing how I’d know him to always be in suits for so long.

To my surprise, I don’t flinch or pull back when his hand arrives on my shoulder as I wipe my mouth with a napkin.

“You don’t know how happy it makes me to see you eating, and enjoying it . . I’m surprised you haven’t broken into that plate of brookies yet,” he comments. Something happy buds on my lips when his lips sponge a kiss to my temple.

“So am I,” I reply, cutting myself another bite of the food. To my happiness, his arm comes around my shoulder and stays there. I welcome it and feel a warmth grow in my gut upon finding the courage to meet his eyes. They hold something that I learn to be mischief when he plucks one of the cookies off the plate. “Hey, save some for me.”

“Don’t worry, they’re all yours. Well, except a few for me. Maybe we could split them down the middle. Half for me and half for you,” he suggests with a cocky shrug to his broad shoulders. It surprises us both when my lips spill a few second giggle. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed that sound.”

“I’ve missed you,” it’s but a squeak and still, I know he hears it by the sad curl of his lips. “I’m going to try.”

“Thank you, my lovebug. That’s all I can ask for,” he smiles, stealing a quick peck from my lips. It catches me off guard and I find myself staring at him while he manages to take a bite that’s half of the cookie. He winks at me and I turn away, shoveling a large bite of cheesy pasta past my lips.

Another bite had donned my fork by the time Claire found her seat beside us. I’d made a dent in my garlic bread by now as Harry worked on his second cookie.

Swallowing, I loaded my fork with a scrap of melted cheese and bolognese sauce. “Claire. How . . How did you do it? Be okay again after losing your baby? It . . It feels impossible,” the words seem to come from nowhere at first.

After a few moments, I know where they stem from, and just how much importance they hold. It looks back at me in Harry’s eyes when I peer up at him, smiling back when he thumbs away a tear below my eye. As her response hits our ears, I reach my arm out and across his back, holding tightly onto his side. I didn’t let go once as we cried together with his grandma about our lost babies, and neither did he.

I went to bed with a hope in my heart, thinking that tomorrow would be different. Alas, I woke up to an empty bed and it wasn’t. I wasn’t surprised but sure, I was let down. I knew that somebody else would be much more disappointed than I was, if that were possible.

It wasn’t long after my waking realization that there was a knock on the door anda creak, “Hey, buggie. I’m making french toast. How many pieces do you want?” The rest of the night had been uneventful, for once. His grandma stayed for another hour or two as we ate cookies and I finally talked about it. Her. Now, lying with my back to Harry, I didn’t know how to do that again. To talk. “Wakey wakey, it’s nearly noon.”

His voice was closer now as his hands settled on my shoulders from behind. The feeling of his thumbs kneading the tissue made me want to let him drive away the intrusive thoughts. To let him win, but I didn’t know how. Yesterday had seemed like a fluke, as I looked back on it. Even if he was her father, how could I explain to him the hollowness that had filled me when I remembered that my child had died inside of me? No, that wasn’t something he could understand, nor could he hear how much I wished he had been there that morning. That the fact he wasn’t there had changed everything. I couldn’t tell him that and I never wanted to, but I’d gotten close. At the times his nagging and hovering drove me up the wall, my tongue itched to deal the worst blows just to get him off my back. I knew it was wrong, so much of it was but I didn’t know how to stop. All I knew how to do was to drown myself in my regret afterwards. Sometimes, I was mad that we couldn’t keep alcohol around, but at others, I was glad for it.

His molasses voice murmurs my name once more, another time that I ignore, until I can’t. “No thanks.”

“I can bring it in here for you. There’s bacon and strawberries too. Orange juice, as well.”

Shaking my head, I bury my face deeper into the pillow, finding that it has his smell. At one time, he had been my safety blanket, but now it was his smell that could calm me down. I wanted to feel guilty about it but I didn’t have the energy to feel guilt because of anything else as it was all focused on one thing.

“I’ll have a little bit,” I surrender, listening to his hopeful response before leaving. For once, he let me eat alone in the bedroom. But he still inspected my plate, and I could tell that he was biting back a remark as he read the paper at the island.

“Can we talk?”

“What about?” I replied, bending over to place my dishes in the dishwasher. Standing back up, I fail at readying myself for his next onslaught of questions. The ones that I can’t answer.

“You know . . About Phoebe,” he answers. I hear it, the way he has to shove the words past his lips in order to get them out. I only know because I’ve done it a thousand times, and often with him. You do it when it’s too hard to say, but you know that it has to be done regardless.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Becks,” he sighs, annoyance clear in his voice. “I thought you said that you were going to try. Last night went so well and you did great, I-.”

“I just can’t do it today. Okay, Harry?” I retort tearfully, catching the sagging of his features when I lock eyes with him. Sighing, I forget the cookie I’d picked up, placing the saran wrap back over it.

“So what, we need to schedule a fricken time to talk about it?”

I’d begun my retreat, but I wasn’t far enough yet. No, if I was in earshot of Harry, it wasn’t over yet. It had always been that way, ever since the beginning.

“Harry, please,” my words start, decorated with tears that drag my words underwater.

“We got pregnant and we . . we had a miscarriage, Becks. It’s nearly been a month now, but what comes next? When do we get back to normal?”

I hadn’t even been facing him and the words felt like a slap in the face. The look on mine must have felt similar to him, because when I turn around to look at him through blurry eyes, he melts into a puddle of regret.

“I didn’t mean it that way, Becks. Not-.”

“Not what way, Harry? That we should just forget about it and move on with our lives? God, you’re sounding like the doctor the other day who said that we can start trying again whenever we want. But I don’t want to try again yet, Harry, because I’m too scared that we’d lose another one- I mean, what if I can’t have kids? And- I don’t want to forget her or replace her,” but he didn’t hear the last part and I hadn’t decided if I’d wanted him to.

“You don’t know that, Becks, and that’s not what I meant at all. I promise,” he interrupts. The legs of his oversized sweatpants sag down to his ankles when he stands. “I didn’t say we had to get pregnant again right away. I’m fucking scared too. I just mean that I want us to get better. Collectively and on our own. I hate seeing you so upset all of the time, and just want you to be happy. We’re supposed to get married sometime this year and I still don’t know when that’s going to happen. The house is going to be ready in a few months, and I wanted to bring you there one day to look at the progress.”

I had begun to shake my head long before he’d stopped talking. It brought an edge to his words and an annoyance that I didn’t like, despite inciting it. A loud puff passes his lips and he returns to the chair, raking a hand through his hair. That either meant annoyance or boredom, or both. Like I tend to do, I take it personally and figure he’s both annoyed and bored of me, not that it was anything new lately.

“I can’t do that, Harry. I-I can’t,” fumbling with my words, my hand gets caught in my hair as I avoid his eyes. It doesn’t stop him from retorting an inquisitive ‘why not?’ “How am I supposed to go and see the house we’re building that has five extra bedrooms, Harry? How do you expect me to look at the rooms we planned out for o-our kids, and one for . . for Phoebe’s nursery when she’s not coming anymore?”

“Becks,” the nickname leaves his lips like that one breath that’s knocked out of you when you fall. The wrinkles that are rarely there above his eyes return as his eyebrows fall deeply. “I didn’t . . I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry.”

“And so am I, but . . I just can’t do that right now, o-or talk about her. I’m sorry,” I say with haste to my words and in my actions. The sad sound from his lips follows me to the couch where I perch, pretending to watch the tv. He doesn’t join me and after a while of pretending, my eyes start to droop.

The image of Shrek and Fiona making animal balloons falls away until a sound wakes me. Time had passed because now Fiona stands in front of Lord Farquad and Shrek is nowhere to be seen.

“I’m going to run an errand. Is there um, anything you need, bug?” he murmurs, the jangling of keys adorning his words.

“No thanks.”

“Okay, I won’t be long- Becks?” he speaks up, clearing his throat at last. I call back a question and wait as he idles. “I really am sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean anything insensitively or to upset you. I’d never want to do that.”

“I know, Harry. It’s okay,” are the last words that pass between us before he bids me a goodbye. I welcome the lack of silence but curl into the couch more, pulling the blanket around me as the movie continues.

My head throbbed when I stood up, but it had been happening a lot lately. I knew it was because I hadn’t been eating much, and as I think about that, my feet lead me to the fridge.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt full after eating, and still wanting a cookie afterwards. Like I do now. Licking the crumbs from my fingers after the last bite, the wooden floor is cold against my bare feet. For a reason I don’t know, I soon am staring up the staircase, and in that direction. It pulls at me to climb the stairs, but something deep down throbs in denial.

Instead, my attention is stolen when my ringtone blares from the couch. I lose my phone half of the time these days and so calls went unanswered. Assuming it was Harry with a grocery question, I picked it up without looking at who it was.

“Hi, Boops.”

“Dad,” I almost sigh, but I was unsure as to why. Was it the bombardment of talking to my dad on the phone for the first time in almost a month? Most likely. Or was it the homesickness that grew in my gut at the sound of his voice. “Daddy.”

“Hi, honey. I was hoping you’d answer. I’ve missed your voice.”

Sinking onto the couch, my bottom lip quivers as I try to breathe in slowly, but my heart won’t listen. It hasn’t for a while now.

“I’ve missed yours, Daddy.”

“Oh, baby girl,” he says in an exhale. Already, I know that he hears what my voice is dipped in, but I don’t hide it. It was too late for that. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

“I’m getting really sick of that word, but thanks, Dad.”

His classical chuckle begins its opening but it falters there, and so did any chance at mine. Silence had rarely been uncomfortable with my Dad. That was only when I’d gotten into trouble or when I was trying to tell him about something that had happened with my Mom, which usually went hand in hand. Over the years, I could hardly count the times silence had grown awkward between us, until it did now.

“What are you doing?” he decides to say, lifting my eyes to the tv screen where it appears Fiona and Farquaad will get their Happily Ever After. I knew without needing to think what would happen next. They wouldn’t, because it never really happens that way. No, it’s not that easy or immediate.

“Watching Shrek on the couch.”

“Is Harry there?” he murmurs a question.

“No, he went to do something not long ago. I don’t know what,” I answer, wrapping the tassels of the blanket around my finger until it hurts. “I think he’s mad at me. I can’t tell anymore, it seems like he always is.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, honey.”

Shaking my head for nobody to see, I taste blood when pressing my lips together to hold back the whimpering. Sniffling, I breathe in raggedly before speaking, “I think it is . . I can’t blame him, because I’ve been so horrible to him, Dad. H-He was supposed to be a Daddy and I’ve forgotten that he’s g-going through all of this too. I’ve been in my own little world being sad a-about the baby, and I forgot about him, Dad. I’m supposed to marry him soon, and I don’t even wear my ring anymore, and I can’t go upstairs, and-,” he doesn’t cut me off. I leave that honor for myself as I watch the color drain from my finger when I unwrap the tassel. I’d slowly come to hate the color red, even refusing to eat strawberries at first. It’d become the color I’d hated most after . . after that morning.

“I’m sure that he understands, Ree, or he’s at least trying to. I’ve spoken to him a few times now, and he’s not mad at you. He’s just frustrated and overwhelmed. Harry hates to see you unhappy, it’s always been that way with you too, and vice versa. He wants to fix everything, but I told him that’s not always possible. You can’t fix another person . . . and neither can you, Boops. You’re doing your best and so is he, and after a while-.”

“But I’m not, Dad. I’m hardly trying, only when I feel like it. I . . I don’t know how to do any of this and I don’t want to. I don’t want her to be gone. I was supposed to be a Mom. Her Mom,” I weep, pressing the handful of blanket against my eyes, catching my tears.

“I wish I could make it all better for you too, honey. Ever since you were little, I wanted to kiss the owies better and tell off the kids who were mean to you, but . . . you have to do it yourself and when you can, Becky. You can’t rush this. Grief, it doesn’t have a timetable or a road map- and, honey, you are a Mom. You’re Phoebe’s Mom. Nothing will ever change that,” somehow, I cry harder at his last words, melting into the couch.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I cry into the phone, wishing it was his shoulder, instead. It’s a few moments filled with the sound of my tears and his own sniffles, before I speak again. “But how do I . . how do I let Harry back in? I pushed him away without meaning to and now we’re so far apart, Dad.”

“I think that you need to remember that he’s grieving the loss of a child too. Your child together, Ree, and that he’s feeling the exact same feelings that you are. He’s devastated at not getting to be a father to Phoebe, to meet her, watch her grow up into a person, and do all of the things that you’re grieving the loss of too. You’re a team, honey, and you need to give each other some grace too. There aren’t any rules to this and maybe I shouldn’t talk because I’m divorced, but the first reason you’re there with each other is because you love each other. You have to remember that too, honey. Hey, I’m sorry, I think I’m burning my dinner in the oven. Can I call you back later, sweetie?”

“Yeah, Dad. Of course. Um, thank you. That really helped me,” I reply, swiping at my tears with the dry side of the blanket.

“I’m glad to hear it. I love you, Boops.”

“I love you too, Daddy,” and he’s gone. All I hear is the silence of the dead call and Shrek’s voice on the tv as he yells at Lord Farquaad. It’s what fills my ears and distracts my mind when I lay my head on the pillow, resting my hand on my belly without thinking. But unlike every other time I’d found myself doing it since . . since I was actually holding my baby, I let it stay there, wildly wishing she could be here watching Shrek with me.

I heard him come in when the credits of the movie are switching to the opening of its sequel. It was arguably the best, in my opinion, but it was something Harry and I had always disagreed upon. The memory sparks an invitation for him on my tongue, but upon raising my head, I watch him disappear down the hallway.

My ears aren’t sure what to focus on, the sound of his parting footsteps, the racing of my heart, or guitar strings soon being plucked from down the hall. It wasn’t much of a choice, because my feet were already leading me towards his study. A place where he had been spending a lot of time recently. I find myself gravitating towards the sound and wanting to hear more, but I stop outside the door nervously. My heart pulls me forward, despite the way it gallops, making me feel sick to my stomach. Standing there, I wonder why this is something I’m nervous about, but nothing is the same anymore. I hadn’t felt this way for what had it been now, years? There hadn’t been a time since the beginning that I was nervous to talk to Harry, and yet, here I stood doing just that.

His playing stopped and I perked up, making out the scribbling of pen on paper. Was he writing a song, I wondered quietly and wished I could ask. I didn’t know how to, and that was something I’d thought too many times lately. How to get out of bed. To eat a whole plate of food. Talk to my family and friends. I hardly even knew how to talk to Harry anymore. That’s what was holding me back, wasn’t it? Sure, if you wanted to sum it up.

“I know you’re standing outside the door . . Did you need something?” Harry murmurs, an edge to his voice. It was one that had appeared out of the blue and refused to leave. I only knew because I’d felt my voice change like that too.

There’s the creaking of the floor before I press the ajar door open enough for me to fit through. I find him sitting back down on his office chair, but he faces away from me, a guitar propped on his lap.

“How’d you know?” I ask softly, still awkwardly standing in the doorway. His eyes flit to mine and I’m unsure of why I look away, except that I can’t face him. No, not when mine are still wet and I’m sure they aren't going to dry up anytime soon. Not after what I’m about to say.

“You forget how long I’ve known you,” he mumbles, peering down at the moleskin journal he scribbles in. “Four years, give or take. You learn their cues and the sounds they make when you come to know somebody for that long. That’s how I heard you at the door, it was your footsteps.”

“Oh,” I respond flatly, feeling dumb. His tone doesn’t imply it and nor do his words, but the embarrassment has run rampant already.

Watching him write and escape to his own little world had always been one of my favorite things to observe. Even his handwriting was something that brought me . . comfort. I blamed it on the familiarity, but as it pours from his pen, it makes my heart slow down a few ticks.

“My Dad called and we talked for a little bit.”

Harry hums a reply, crossing something out on the piece of paper. Scratching his head, he sighs whilst staring at the writing. I can’t make it out from here, but once again, the silence finds its old spot. Remembering his initial question when he heard me at the door, I worry that I’m bothering him. Gulping past the nervousness and doubt, I pedal forward.

“Was that yours?” I ask warily, noting his head rising so he can meet my eyes for a split second. They hold a question in them, perhaps dozens. “The song. It . . It was really pretty.”

“Yeah . . It’s just something I’ve been playing around with,” his answer comes out in a pillowy tone. It has changed ever since . . since I’d run away from him, and I hear it now as he speaks his reply.

“I really . . really like it,” I comment, looking towards the ceiling when his grandfather’s Gibson acoustic grows hazy in my eyes.

“Thank . . you. Hey, what is it? Did your dad say something that upset you?” it had been so long since I’d heard that steely edge absent from his voice. I don’t know why I mourned it, because it was my fault it had ever arrived in the first place. Wasn’t it? “Becks.”

“Yeah, he said a lot of things th-that made sense, actually,” I confess, dropping my head to stare at my fingers that I wring. I’m unable to ignore the feeling of my lips trembling against each other, despite busying myself with adjusting my rings. They stop when I arrive at the one that speaks volumes, and how deeply I’d ignored it.

Braving the storm, I finally look at him. His greens are patient and soft, something neither of our eyes have been for the other for awhile now. Without breaking eye contact, he settles his guitar onto its stand and discards the pad of paper.

“Harry, c-can I have a hug?” slowly, the overdue question comes.

“Of course,” he responds, a corner of his mouth quirking up. Already, he’s holding his arms out towards me. “You’ve never needed to ask, buggie.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, feeling the air whoosh out of me when my body touches his. Somehow, my chest shakes harder with a new sob. It only worsens when his hands come under my thighs, lifting me up to sit on his lap.

“It’s been so long since we’ve hugged,” I know he doesn’t mean to, but it feels like a chasm through my chest when he says that. The guilt that had arrived at my dad’s words increases by tenfold.

“I’m sorry,” it’s but a whisper against his neck, my favorite place for hide and seek. But it was always him seeking me, it had been for months now, and I hadn’t let him win. Not once.

“What?”

“I’m so sorry for everything, Harry,” I repeat, pulling back to find his greens swarmed by tears. Swiping my thumb under them, I catch the way that they leak with sadness. “For how horribly I’ve treated you this last month, and how . . how I forgot that you- you lost our baby too.”

“Oh, honey. You don’t have to-,” he begins, adamant in his apology. One that I won’t accept.

“No, but I do have to apologize,” I sob, surprised at the way I’m shocked by the rough feeling of his cheeks. It had been so long since I’d touched him like this, despite watching him grow his beard out. “My dad, he . . he put it into perspective for me. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before, I hate myself for that, for-.”

“Hey, don’t hate yourself for anything. This last month has been a Hell we never thought we’d have to endure. Something we shouldn’t have to deal with, and one that isn’t our fault,” he insists, thumbing at the place where a dimple would usually fall in my left cheek. I’d forgotten it was there, just like I’d done the same to him.

“But all you’ve been doing is trying to take care of me, and I made that so hard for you,” comes my cry against his palm, feeling the way he holds me together from breaking for the thousandth time. No, that would imply I’d have been put back together, but that wasn’t something I’d done. “You tried to make me eat and I fought you on it until you stopped talking about it. I argued with you and ignored you when you were just trying to keep the world going, but you never stopped, even though I did. You didn’t stop living and loving me when I stopped.”

“Becks, it’s okay,” he repeats, the words sliding into my ears as my hand wanders to his neck. A hoodie with cartoons from our childhoods dons his upper half, tattoos peeking out from the color. I found the charm of his necklace instantaneously, something I could do in the dark.

“But it’s not, Harry. It’s not okay how I treated you. I forgot you and that you’ve been mourning the loss of your child too. Our b-baby,” I whimper, sniffling when I inhale uneasily. My fingers shake before me until he takes hold of my hand, surrounding it with his own before pressing it to his lips. “I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you, Becks. I always will,” Harry says, tucking his chin over my head when I melt against him. “I meant it that first night after we came home and you disappeared on me . . We lost our baby, our child, and I can’t . . I can’t lose you too, Rebecca. I have, time and time again, and I can’t do it again. I’ve hardly stayed pieced together lately being so far away from each other like we have . . God, the only thing that kept me going was just thinking, ‘one more day’ for so many days.”

Hiccuping, my hands brace themselves against his taut back, feeling his own drift along my spine. Shaking my head against the crook of his neck, I struggle to breathe, let alone speak, “I’m so sorry, Harry. I can’t believe how awful I was to you. We’re supposed to get married soon, and I can’t even live up to that in sickness and health part of the vows.”

He continued to murmur assurances that everything was okay, and for the first time in a long while, I found myself believing him. Crying against his neck, I heard his own shed tears onto mine as my hands rubbed circles into his shoulders.

“I’m sorry I got mad at you that day for going to work, even though you asked me and I said it was okay . . And-.”

“Shhh, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that, Becks,” he assures me, pressing a kiss to my head. Again, I believe him, and it feels easier to breathe. Just in the slightest.

“I was such a bitch to you.”

Something sparks inside of my chest at the sound I hear next, one that had been lost along the way. His laugh. His song.

“I’ve been known to be quite the dick on one or two occasions, as well,” I savor the glint that appears in his eyes upon pulling away. It had been one of the first times I was able to lift my head since before all of this had happened, because it had been better just to hide. No, not now.

The quirk to his lips is a full on tilt now, and through them, I’m reminded of what drew me to this man in the first place. It was those eyes and that smile that made me melt upon impact. Well, then there’s the sunshine they share, and how I taste it when his lips meet mine for really the first time in what, a month. Emotion pulls at me from somewhere underneath at the thought, but he makes me forget rather quickly. He’s always been good at that.

His peppermint chapstick sticks to my lips after he’s pulled away several seconds later, trying to catch his breath. The cobwebs have been dusted away in more ways than one, and it feels weird at first, wrong almost, but I laugh. It catches him by surprise too and his eyes focus on me, and only grow brighter.

“I’ve missed kissing you, and laughing with you,” Harry grins, pressing one more to my lips before brushing his nose against mine.

“So have I. I’m s-.”

“I swear, if you say that word one more time,” he tuts, shaking his head with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to figure out something,” he says, sighing for the dramatic effect. I giggle along with him a moment later, remembering the flecks of gold hidden in his eyes. I remember a lot, too much almost, and the gold is gone as my eyes flood once more. “I know it’s hard, Becks. Something has never been this difficult for me . . for you either. But we have to talk, and I’ve been aching for ages now to talk to you . . I don’t want to ignore it, because they shouldn’t be forgotten. Our daughter. We need to talk about them, about her,” I’m nodding before he can finish, feeling his warm lips against my forehead as I focus on my breaths. “In and out, bug. In and out. We can do this. We’ll start slow.”

I haven’t stopped nodding, but once my lungs start to work again, I pull away and find his eyes once more. It comes to me and I can’t hold it back in anymore, knowing I need to say it first. To tell him.

“Okay, let’s talk about o-our daughter,” I begin, cringing at the sound of my voice breaking already. He nods, cupping my face in his palm, the sweetest of looks on his face.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles alternate universe #one direction fanfiction #one direction #fanfic #wattpad #harry styles wattpad #writing #vanchlo writes #heck yes #becky x harry #tempestad #elmundodebecks

5 notes · View notes