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immortalonus · 3 years

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Where You Belong: Chapter 3

A/N: I hate this chapter so, so much. Unfortunately, I also couldn't find any way around it. If I got anything wrong, chances are I just missed it, so feel free to let me know.

Read on AO3 here.

“...Humans with ghost powers!? Crazy, right?” Valerie snorted, then paused.

“Or humans that turn into ghosts, or ghosts that—stay human when they die or whatever. The important thing is that there was a part of Ellie that was real. And if it hadn't been for Phantom, I'd have just left her there with Plasmius, to do whatever—to hurt—to—”

Valerie took a moment, struggling to admit out loud what she had already begun suspect for herself.

“—kill her. he was gonna murder a little girl, mama, and if Phantom hadn't convinced me she still had some human in her, if I hadn't listened to a ghost, I woulda let him.”

Phantom, if she hadn't listened to Phantom, specifically. It was a detail that still irritated her every time it came up.

The ghost boy had been so persistent, for so long in his charade of being a “good guy,” that most days, she simply tuned him out.

And truly, was that so wrong?

Up to that point, Everything Phantom had said in his own defense had been nothing more than talk. Oh, he said sorry, he said he felt bad about it, but at the end of the day, what had he done?

Ruined her fathers job and her life, then fled the scene like the criminal he was.

Stole for the hell of it and couldn't even be bothered to take the blame when he got caught.

(Valerie still had no idea why the ghost thought an “evil mind controlling clown guy,” was a reasonable excuse, at all, for anything.)

Who was always ready to fight, but never to help.

Never, not once, in all the wretched aftermath of the Grey's financial dissolutionment, had Phantom come to their aid. Not in the immediate events that came after, nor during the process of her father's dismissal, when he could well have stayed his expulsion simply by appearing, proving Damian Grey's assertions of spectral interference months before he would have been otherwise believed.

Not during the move from her childhood home to her current residence down in Elmerton. Too strapped to hire assistance, it had been down to Valerie, her father, and Fenton, who had taken his weekend off to help her move instead.

No haunting the creditors who dogged their every step, even now.

Hell, he couldn't even be bothered to tell the public that it was his fault her life was ruined! In private, yes, where he knew no one could hear. But never where it mattered, to whom it mattered, since that would require Phantom to actually give something up for once and admit what he did was wrong. Which he would never do, because Phantom, like all ghosts, was a fundamentally egotistical creature, right down to his very core.

No, Valerie had good reason to believe that she had Phantom all figured out: A showboating prig, full of hot air and false excuses, distinct from other ghosts only in his capacity to fool the masses into believing he was ever anything more.

Then Elle happened.

The ghost girl's mere existence had managed to throw Valerie's world into a whole new tailspin, leaving her reeling even as events conspired to yank more and more of her footing out from under her, teetering on the edge of her own understanding as all her convictions suffered blow after blow.

Living ghosts.

Ghostly humans.

Friends acting as enemies.

While enemies acted as friends.

“I woulda let him kill her.” She repeated, “Just like I let him kill—end—All those other ghosts I gave him, just handed 'em over for whatever freak experiments he had cooked up.”

Just like she had snuffed out who knew how many other specters during her own patrols.

How many of them were still alive in there, she wondered, underneath the ghost?

Her mother's brows seemed to furrow in response, worried, no doubt, over what exactly her daughter had done.

“I didn't mean it mama, it wasn't my fault! It was all Plasmius, you know Plasmius? That knockoff Nosferatu all the time picking fights with Phantom. He used me and he lied, and—“ Valerie licked her lips futilely seeking moisture from a mouth gone dry.

“He played human to do it.”

Valerie felt a flush of rage and shame wash over her at the words. She had been used all over again, played for a fool and manipulated just like her so-called “friends” had used her before, dangling control and importance in exchange for the very essence of her soul.

To learn that she had struck the same deal with a different kind of devil, that all her power was a tool in someone else's hands had curdled into an ache that rivaled the raw burn of a whole new betrayal.

Because unlike the A-listers she'd run with not too long ago, or even Phantom, who she'd always hated, Vlad Masters had been a man she'd seen fit to trust.

“Plasmius was Masters, and—God, they even share the same first name—My sponsor, the guy who gave me my first suit, trained me up, even kept me and daddy off the streets when things were at their worst. And me stupid enough to think it was 'cause he cared.”

A hard exclamation escaped her throat at the thought, to forceful for a scoff, too sharp for laughter.

No such thing indeed.

“Everyone's out for something. Masters—Plasmius, he was out for Phantom, and I was just the pawn that was supposed to get take him out.”

That's part of what scares me too. Why was Plasmius so dead set on Phantom? Why'd he sink so much money into taking him out? Why does Phantom hate him back?”

And it was peculiar, how much Phantom seemed to hate Plasmius. Valerie had thought for a long time that it was some kind of territory dispute, a conflict over a rare and valuable thin spot between realities. After years of chasing after Phantom, however, it became more and more clear that the ghost boy's resentment of Plasmius went beyond that of simple competition.

The mere mention of the vampiric specter was enough to turn Phantom tense and snippy, as though the mere thought of the other ghost irritated him, somehow. After witnessing the two up close, Valerie's suspicions had cemented into certainty: Phantom hated Plasmius, and he hated him personally.

“There's so much I don't know, and no one to tell me. Plasmius doesn't know that I know, and until I get out from under him, that's how it's gotta stay.”

How Valerie was supposed to get out from under Plasmius was another question entirely. Plasmius, in Vlad Master's guise, was the sole reason the Grey family had managed to keep on top of its debts for as long as they had. To make matters worse, he also provided most of the materials Valerie's suit consumed for its more elaborate systems and weaponry.

Even so, the temptation to throw it all away and smash Plasmius' smug face against her boot was a strong one, stayed only by the fear of what would happen to her father if she tried.

“Phantom went squirrelly on me too,” she said. “I thought maybe I could get something from him, since we never ended that truce. But in the end, he was still just a ghost.”

She hadn't wanted to go to Phantom, in those days between Elle's escape and her decision to plunge into the Zone, had felt too much like would be admitting something, somehow, to do so. Had it not been for the fact that Phantom was her sole and only choice, she was sure she would never have asked at all.

Once she'd made the decision to do it, he'd been easy enough to track down. She found him—where else?—but In the middle of a fight, duking it out at altitude with one of the countless animal ghosts that regularly made their way across the paltry excuse for a veil stretched across Amity Park.

The fight had been easy, the conversation that came after it, much less so.

How could someone be alive and dead at the same time? Were they alive and dead at once? all the time? Did they alternate at will? Were they born? Were they made? How many were there? A lot? How did she spot a human-ghost if she saw it? Was there a way to tell? Or did you have to guess?

Phantom had been the one to tell her that these human-ghost, ghost-human things could exist in the first place, which had lead her to expect, rather despite herself, that perhaps he could explain them, too.

So it was only natural, really, that in that moment precisely, he had chosen to clam up. He knew nothing of these miraculous hybrids, could find out nothing concerning them, and as to finding them, he had no clue at all. Nevermind that it had been he who had first told her such beings were possible in the first place, the ghost was a veritable well of ignorance, utterly unable to aid in her pursuits.

“Ghosts are narrow minded and selfish, they go round everywhere like they've got blinkers on both sides of their head. You stick an idea in front of their nose, and they grab it if they like it, and shove it away if they don't. They don't consider where you got the idea from, they don't think about why its there, they don't even goddamn care why you picked it up in the first place. All that matters is somethings blocking their little slice of the world, theirs, specifically, 'cause they wouldn't never consider any other kind.

That was Phantom's problem, he wanted a truce yeah, but his way, not mine. A truce for beating things up, not a truce for trusting and talking or or anything that might give trouble to him. That wasn't how he wanted it to work.

He was even worse with Elle. She's the only other one I could talk to—not counting you, ma—who could tell me anything about anything about what was going on!

And Elle, I couldn't track her down. When she said she had places to be, I thought she meant like Phantom when there wasn't anything fun for him to hit, not just gone! I tried tracking her, I did, but it didn't work. Either staying human hides her, or she's run too far to track.

Stupid Phantom wouldn't help me with that, neither. It was just 'oh she's fine,' this and 'why do you care' that, like I can't worry about a human girl wondering on her own without nobody to make sure she's even fed!”

Not only had he been absurdly reluctant to answer her questions, but even had the audacity to wonder if they were at all related to her continued association with Plasmius. It was an insult, beyond all doubt, as though he didn't know how little choice she had.

As though he wasn't the one who forced her into making it.

“I guess so far as he figured, if Elle wasn't being kidnapped, then she was fine. It didn't matter that she's a kid, or alone, or was stealing apples just to eat. She was strong enough to survive on her own and not melt, and that was good enough for him. He just sat there when she left, too, watching her scat like any other ghost."

Did he know how far she intended to run, or simply fail to understand why he should care?

"No matter how well he thinks he means, Phantom can't help the human parts of her. Just because she could beat any man that tried to take doesn't mean that she doesn't get—scared, or lonely, or—“ Valerie wriggled uncomfortably in her pallet of dust. “—Or that she doesn't need people. Phantom can't give that, and Plasmius is a sick piece of shit, so that left me. Just me. If I let that go, then Elle'd be alone for real.”

The worry in her mother's gaze didn't lighten, exactly, but it did shift, consternation giving way to curiosity mixed with a hearty topping of concern. It was easy to imagine the question she would have asked, if she could but speak.

“Then what is it do you think you're doing all the way out here, hm?”

Valerie sighed. This, at least, she had a clear answer for.

“I'm on a mission. There's this thing called the infini-map. Don't have all the details, but with a name like that?” She scoffed, “don't need 'em. Whatever it is, its good enough to send Plasmius into a fit just at the idea of laying claws on it.

If I could get something like that, imagine, I could find Elle in a heartbeat. No more lookin', no more running blind and hoping for luck. And when I find her, I could use it get out from under Masters thumb for good. Use it, sell it, whatever, with that thing, it would be easy. Me and daddy could be set for life.”

At the time, the idea had seemed brilliant. With her search for Elle stymied, and rental payments approaching their inevitable due, she had latched onto the idea of a Ghost Zone mission the instant her so-called benefactor had brought it up. It was a chance to bleed “Mister Masters” of a little more of his money, without actually having to tolerate his presence for any length of time. Even better, it presented an opportunity to do right by her father while staying far away from the quiet anger, the soft, dispirited sense of regret that had seemed to overtake him as jobs remained scarce, and Valerie continued to hunt.

Perhaps most selfishly, it was the opportunity for the Red Huntress to become what Valerie had had always wanted her to be: A free agent, no puppet masters, no expectations, just the world, and herself within in it.

It was one thing she truly did not regret, even now, lying in the dirt looking up at the memory of a memory ripped to tatters in her hands. Whatever else happened in this strange, wild place, it was her decision, her choice. She was finally in control.

Thinking of control, there was another reason why she wanted to speed up her search for the ghost girl.

“Elle's a good kid, but she <i>is</i> a kid, with a ghost in her she don't even know to fear. I'm not sure how long she can fight it like that without anyone to tell her what's going on. She needs someone who knows about ghosts,who can show her how to fight back, 'cause if she doesn't, I'm not sure how long she'll last until she ends up Plasmius."

“Or Phantom.”

It was an ugly theory, but explained a great deal. The identical looks, the raw antipathy towards Vlad, in particular, or how a full ghost could see himself as related, somehow, to a being that was something so much more.

All ghosts came from somewhere, and Valerie rather doubted Elle was truly Plasmius' only attempt at capturing a hybrid of his own.

“'Cause I think they're the same kinda thing. It explains why Plasmius wanted her so bad, and they change the same way, too. They go from being a ghost, ectosignitures and all, to being alive. Not some fake, but breathing, heartbeats, everything. There's something in them that's really, truly alive.

Plasmius and Elle, they're both alive," she whispered, "but only Elle's human, and I don't know how long that's gonna last.

I can't stay stupid about all this ghost shit, neither. There's so much they won't tell me, and Elle's my ticket to figuring it out. If I can find her in time, I could fix it. Bring her to the Fentons, maybe, take out the ghost before it gets too big, make cash, move out me and daddy and Elle all together. Either way, this is how I do it, right here, right now. This is my chance.”

No more being lead around like a particularly witless donkey for his carrot wielding master, no more suppressing every violent impulse that threatened to take her over any time she chanced to look “Mister Masters” in his insufferable face, no more long, interminable periods of her nose against a grindstone day after day, scraping her fingers bloody against poverty's wall in the way her father seemed convinced was better, somehow, for all the pain it so obviously caused him.

“I know it's risky, but it's worth it, it's gotta be. If I can get the infinimap, then I can fix everything, all at once. I won't owe nobody nothing, and I can start fixing things again, for everyone.”

And perhaps her mother agreed, as the shadow that had gathered against her brow seemed to ease, relaxing back into something more serene.

Valerie smiled, running her thumb over the place where her face once was, pointedly ignoring the sensation of absence in favor of the smiling visage still shining across her display.

“See, I knew you'd see it my way.” Valerie was pretty sure she'd had to have gotten her sense of adventure from somewhere, after all. “It's hard, but I'm fine. And when this is all done, it'll be more than fine, it'll be better.

Just you wait.”

Overlay image: Session end.

The memory of Theresa Grey vanished slowly, victim of her daughter's own reluctance to see her go. But vanish she did, sunshine grew pale and laughter faded, memory crushed into data and erased of meaning, and Valerie was once again alone.

She sighed, finally allowing herself to lower the photograph as she reached over for her other parcels, which she began collecting into a small bundle atop her chest.

Technically, she could reach over to put her mother with her boots and rations instead of the other way around, but found herself suddenly disinclined to do so. Without the stress of the day to keep her going, she found exhaustion pushing down at her very bones, keeping her pressed against the meager comfort of her body warmed hollow of dirt.

No, lifting herself up as little as possible seemed a very enticing proposition indeed.

She grabbed both her boots, then her gloves, peeled off to reveal the same skintight leather which coated the rest of her, the remains of her wallet, and a single, battered bag, too smooth for leather, too thick for silk: All supplies from her earlier run in with the thieving insect from before, pared down to those goods and supplies she could actually use.

She chose not to dwell on how few of them there were.

Her mother came last, placed gently at the head of the pile, where she could look it over one last time.

She should have done this sooner, she knew, perhaps even the moment she entered the Zone. Keeping the photograph on her physical person was too much of a risk, one born of foolish sentiment and thoughtless desire. She had just wanted so badly to keep one good thing with her, somewhere tangible and real, she'd disregarded the threat she put it in.

Because if there was one thing death was guaranteed to do, it was steal everything and everyone it thought was yours.

Valerie placed her hands over the small collection, reaching once again into the inorganic hum prickling ever at the edges of her mind.

Unit_1 selected (Gen_Storage:)

Report

Status: Stable (20% full)

Contents (See details)

Intake request:

Intake selected? (Y/N)

>Yes

Processing…

A flick of her mental fingers, and it was done. Boots, bag, and all turned into their own kind of mist, dissolving into the small pocket dimension that followed her always, shadows diffusing into the surrounding light, the weight of them dissipating until nothing but the memory of their pressure remained.

Valerie brushed her fingers over the space they left behind, a half smile tugged at the corners of her trembling lips.

“Goodnight, Ma,” She whispered. A grief like seaglass hung heavy on her heart, smoothed over edges cut no longer, though the heft of its sorrow lay leaden even yet.

“Sleep good now, you hear?”

No voice answered in response.

Valerie no longer expected it to.

Deep in the realm of the dead, a figure turned on its side, curled against itself on its small outcropping of stone. Legs up to its chest, arms clenched tight around its shoulders as it heaved, breath by mortal breath, seeking some moment of repose.

#Valerie Grey #Danny Phantom #Fanfiction #Where You Belong #Chapter 3 #Writing

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noragami-ru-manga · 4 years

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Soul summoning and Father’s return from Yomi

For someone who supposedly hates Father, I sure talk a lot about him, huh

While I was flipping through the pages of the manga, I once again came to a stop at the soul summoning scene in chapter 37. Specifically at Nora’s tale about Father escaping from Yomi, which I, apparently, did not pay due attention to.

I’ve never had a single opinion on how Father got in and out of Yomi, so I toyed with a few.

1. When Father was still human, he was already interested in researching ayakashi (like Ebisu, for example), somehow learned about the kotonoha (the Word of Yomi) and decided to get one for himself. He voluntarily ventured into Yomi but asked the pock-marked girl to soul call him beforehand, and she did just that.

2. The pock-marked girl died, and Father got mad at the gods for being directly or indirectly involved. He went to Yomi to get her back, stumbled upon Izanami, saw the brushes in action, and either stole or wheedled out one of them.

3. Father was the one who died while the pock-marked girl lived. While in Yomi, Father encountered Izanami, learned about the brushes, and got his hands on one of them.

In this post I want to examine the last option – the one in which Father died and was resurrected by that girl of his through soul summoning.

First of all, let me remind you that soul summoning isn’t something Adachitoka came up with specifically for Noragami, but an actual Japanese tradition.

I think it’s reasonable to assume that whatever exists in our world is also a thing in Noragami universe. All the locations that we see in the series, specifically shrines, are real places (with the exception of the characters’ houses, Takamagahara and Yomi, obviously). This means that the tradition of soul summoning can easily exist in-universe.

Maybe it’s just me (or the translation), but the way Kofuku talks about soul summoning seems to imply that she knows what it is and expects others to know about it, too. Apparently, they just never thought of using it on a god because it’s a human tradition.

And it goes against everything both Father and Amaterasu say.

Amaterasu says humans can’t (mustn’t) come back to life at all, Father implies he is the only one who’s managed to return from Yomi/come back to life. How do we reconcile these statements with people climbing on roofs and staring down wells trying to revive their loved ones? The answer is – people did all that, they just weren’t successful. Except for the pock-marked girl.

I’m absolutely sure she was the one who called Father back from Yomi, thanks to a discussion I stumbled upon here on Tumblr.

@sayaka19fan gave an alternate translation of this scene that differs from both the official transalation and the fan scanlation: “Even if he said I was a girl with pock marks I wonder if she was his loved one”. Aka “he was cold to me, even if I had her appearance”. So Father being distant made Izanami question her choice of appearance and wonder if she impersonated the wrong person.

If the girl was alive, then Father not being swayed by Izanami is easily explained, he simply knew that whoever was in front of him couldn’t have been that girl. This rules out her dying first and Father coming to Yomi to retrieve her the way Izanagi came after Izanami (not to mention that this particular scenario would require some other person to call Father’s name). So between the two of them, Father was the only one who got into Yomi.

The thing about Yomi is that it’s unclear whether it’s really a place where people go after their deaths. On the one hand, you have this word “yomigaeru” - to come back to life = to return from Yomi. On the other hand, there are opinions like this one:

In no ancient Shinto textual source is it explained who exactly goes to Yomi and why. Some historians suggest that the concept of a life after death was not a familiar one to the ancient Japanese and it only took form with the introduction of Buddhism from China in the 6th century CE. Yomi certainly has a very limited place in Shinto thought where a life after death is only vaguely alluded to and where there is an absence of a general concept of punishment and reward for souls in the next life as found in many other religions. The only suffering of souls in Yomi, if indeed there is any at all, is their separation from their living loved ones. The noted Shinto scholar and theologian Hirata Atsutane (1776-1843 CE) explains Yomi and its limited significance thus,

“The old legends that dead souls go to Yomi cannot be proven. Then it may be asked, where do the souls of the Japanese go when they die? It may be clearly seen from the purport of ancient legends and from modern examples that they remain eternally in Japan and serve in the realm of the dead governed by Okuninushi-no-kami. This realm of the dead is not in any one particular place in the visible world, but being a realm of the darkness and separated from the present world, it cannot be seen…

The darkness, however, is only comparative. It should not mistakenly be imagined that this realm is devoid of light. It has food, clothing, and houses of various kinds, similar to those of the visible world. Proof of this may be found in accounts…in which a person has occasionally returned to tell of the realm of the dead.

After death the soul leaves the body and resides in the area of the grave, a fact attested by countless accounts…of both ancient and modern times of miraculous occurrences by spirits in the vicinity of graves…Some say that the soul goes to the filthy realm of Yomi, but there is not a shred of evidence that this is the case”. (Scott Littleton, 94)

Even in the manga itself Yato and Ebisu didn’t encounter a single soul when they were in Yomi, only ayakashi and Izanami’s maidens. Then again, we learned in chapter 86 that where souls go in their afterlife depends on what they believed in when they were alive. So technically, if Father believed that dead souls end up in Yomi, that’s where he could have gone after he died.

Why do I now think that he died and didn’t venture into Yomi as a living person specifically to get the kotonoha? Again, it all comes down to the pock-marked girl. I think that her death could have been, in FMA terms, an “equivalent exchange” for Father’s return from Yomi.

See, gods in Noragami are pretty powerful, I give them that. They can, for example, turn into giant spiders (Ookuninushi) and lightning (Takemikazuchi). And while the series never really explains how exactly Tenjin goes about helping students get better marks, or how Ebisu helps businesses, I’m pretty sure that gods can alter reality to some extent. However, they aren’t all-powerful, and there’s one thing they can do nothing about – death.

Of course, we should take into account that Yato isn’t exactly a god of healing to at least theoretically be able to postpone someone’s death (he can totally do the opposite though). I do think, however, that any other god would have said the same, because this is the one thing the gods cannot change. They can’t postpone death because the circle of life is the nature of things and shouldn’t be meddled with. Not because “Amaterasu said so”, but because that’s how the world is. Who made the world like this is a tricky question to answer, since to extent to which the Japanese cosmogoniс myth is applicable to Noragami, aka what came first, the egg or the hen, is a topic for a discussion of its own.

Bottom line is, if Father came back from the dead, something had to balance that out, and that something was the pock-marked girl’s death. It wasn’t a punishment from the Heavens for his breaking out of Yomi, which the Heavens, apparently, don’t even know about. It wasn’t an injustice that some god committed, ‘cause gods had nothing to do with it all. Father became bitter at the world for taking the pock-marked girl away from him, at the gods who didn’t help him when he needed them, and at humans who created and support those useless gods. The clothes Father was wearing when he was escaping from Izanami are the same ones he was in when he was hugging the girl in chapter 60. If this is how things went, then the effect of his return was immediate – as soon as he came back, the girl died.

There’s one more thing that bothers me about Father – how he’s survived after his return from Yomi, specifically how he changes bodies. It’s hard to tell if he had a body in the scenes from Yato and Nora’s childhood, since Far shore beings can interact with the real-life objects (food, clothes) just fine. All we know is that he’s had the same appearance in Yomi, in Yato and Nora’s childhood, and even now; and also that he doesn’t just possess bodies, but their souls as well. His current “host” Fujisaki is a third year high-school senior, meaning he’s roughly two years older than Hiyori. If Father is reborn in a new body each time, then Yato hasn’t seen him for 17-18 years now. And that Yato has never seen Fujisaki before his father made himself known when he and Yukine were walking down the street is apparent not just from their exchange in Fujisaki’s house

but also from the very first scene Father was in. Yato saw how Fujisaki caught Hiyori, and if he knew that the guy was his father, he definitely would have warned her to stay away. Granted, Yato probably didn’t see the guy’s face, but it doesn’t change the fact that Yato first saw what Father now looks like in the year the events of the manga currently take place – after 2010.

Except we see in the Volume 8 omake that Father collected articles about the “Yatogami miracle” from 2000′s, too – when Fujisaki was barely in primary school. (I don’t know if I need to explain this, but just in case it confuses you. I’m not talking about who and when was collecting the papers. What I mean is that Yato worked as a magatsukami in 2000′’s when Fujisaki was only a child).

Could Nora have been the one to make Yato go back to his work as a magatsukami all on her own on those occasions when Father couldn’t command him, being a grown man in the body of an infant or a child with all the restrictions that come with it (also, gross)? She was able to deliver him to Father using the masks, but for the most part she was just following his orders. So I’m really curious what Father meant when he said that he “didn’t get to chose”. Does it mean he has to be reborn as a baby each time he dies? Or maybe two souls are just too much for one body to handle, thus he has to switch them quite often and at the most inconvenient times, so he just uses whoever is available? He had to change schools to spy after Yato and Hiyori because Kouto didn’t live in Tokyo, and he seems to somewhat care about his “sister” and “nieces”. But his being out of Yato’s life for a solid decade after each rebirth (before he at least has some freedom of movement, being a child and all) is too good to be true.

And even though I’ve said we don’t know for sure if he had a body after his return from Yomi, I’ll just go out and say that he had – his own body, no less, the one we saw in Yato and Nora’s memories. He had to be human to have wished Yato into existence in the first place, and since his appearance back then matches his current looks, he could have initially returned into his own body.

After all, time flows differently on the Near shore and on the Far shore. Although so far we’ve only seen that the passage of time is slower both in Yomi and Takamagahara.

Is the opposite possible? Could it be that while Father was in Yomi, very little time has passed in Nakatsukuni, so instead of burying Father the girl tried calling him back and succeeded? It’s a wild guess, but if day and night don’t have a set length on the Far shore, then it means that one day in Yomi can also be shorter than one day on Earth.

In any case, if Father did come back to his own body, it lasted for a while – at least until Yato was a teen.

Another thing that bothers me is how come Yato didn’t know what Father looked like after an entire month of staying in that cottage. Did Yato never look at him during that whole time? Or would Father come to the cottage as himself? We know that his soul can separate itself from Fujisaki’s, but is it accidental or intentional?

Look at his latest encounter with Hiyori.

Father showed himself for a split second, distracting Hiyori and letting the ayakashi bite her. Did he accidentally “slip out” because of his strong emotions, or did he do it deliberately to make Hiyori lose focus and be an easy target for his doggies? The second one is a very Father thing to do, and if he can separate himself from Fujisaki from time to time, it explains why Yato didn’t know he looks like a student now. However, he was Fujisaki when he came to collect Nora after the whole ordeal with Ebisu.

Maybe Yato only saw Father that one time during his entire stay at the cottage – when Father ordered him to go to Yomi. This way it’s possible that Yato indeed never looked at his face. Except chapter 29 seemingly disproves that.

The background to Yato’s thoughts is Father putting down the bucket with purifying water in it. If this is just to remind us that this person is Father, I’m fine with it. But if this is Yato’s memory, something he saw with his own eyes, then it can only mean that Father did not look like Fujisaki then.

TLDR: I think that Father came back from Yomi because the pock-marked girl resurrected him via soul summoning and died in exchange, accidentally or voluntarily. I’m not overly attached to this theory and I won’t be surprised or disappointed if it’s never confirmed. It was just fun to dig into Father’s possible past once more.

P.S. while I was reading the soul summoning scene, the inconsistencies in Amaterasu’s actions and words (“call him like in a soul summoning” – “people can’t come back from Yomi”, “call him by his real name” – “are you the one called Yatogami?”) made me entertain the idea that the girl who helped the gang wasn’t Amaterasu, rather her lookalike. Like her twin sister Tsukuyomi? They weren’t twins according to the Japanese mythology as far as I know, but in other mythologies the sun and the moon are twins *cough Greek cough*, and we’ve already seen that Adachitoka don’t exactly retell mythology but adapt it however they like. I did cast away the thought since there was too much focus on the sun during the scene, but it’s still a fun little idea.

#noragami #noragami manga #noragami meta #fujisaki kouto #father

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artemisegeria · 5 years

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Endgame Predictions/Wishlist Round-Up (Spoilers)

I made a number of posts discussing what I thought might happen, what I wanted to happen, and what I didn’t want to happen. Here’s how all my speculation and hoping stacked up against the real movie. Massive spoilers below the cut.

In summary, I was really wrong about a lot of stuff. The whole movie was very different from what I expected.

Predictions

Speculative Timeline (as of April 2, 2019)

- We open on the remaining Avengers either in Wakanda or already back at the compound. It is only days or weeks after the Snap. They are struggling to pick up the pieces. They track the missing population and try to figure out what happened to all their allies that we didn’t see at the end of Infinity War. Eh, not really. It was kind of like that, but they didn’t really focus on it.

- They find Nick’s pager and begin messing around with it to continue sending the signal. Captain Marvel arrives. Straight up was not in the movie.

- They cut to some of the other people who will play a role. Probably Tony. Maybe the dusted people. Or Scott Lang in the Quantum Realm. Eh, kind of. They did cut to Tony early on.

- We return to the Avengers. They decide to go fight Thanos. A while ago, I saw a synopsis from footage that was shown to some Disney investors. It said that the Avengers track the energy signature of the space stone, so maybe Captain Marvel’s arrival helps with that, since that is the stone her powers come from. This is still very soon after the Snap as shown by Nat’s hair in the new special look footage. This was a trick again. I think this happened after the time jump.

- They get soundly defeated. But they either manage to escape or Thanos shows “mercy” and decides to send them back to Earth or something. Wrong. They actually defeat him, which I liked. It really made me wonder what would happen next.

- Maybe some time passes of them still struggling to get through the wreckage of their world. Some other remaining allies, like Pepper, coalesce around them. Kind of. There was the scene with the hologram chat.

- Tony arrives with Nebula. Reunions and tough conversations. This pretty much happened, but it was more shouting than an actual conversation.

- Big time jump (like 3-5 years). I know I shouldn’t get my hopes up, but for some reason, the more I re-watch the trailers, the more I think that sometime during this period, if it really falls out this way, they will be able to restore Vision. First part was right. Sadly, very wrong about the second part.

- We open on Nat in Japan. She talks to Clint and tries to get him to come back to New York with her. He refuses; he says he’s not done avenging his family. Wrong about the second part and it happens early in the movie.

- Cut to Tony, Steve, et al. working together on new weapons, getting SHIELD back together, trying to make the best of the situation. So wrong.

- Scott Lang arrives from a Time Vortex in the Quantum Realm. He finds the Avengers. He has new information that unlocks a solution that they haven’t tried yet. Everyone starts to work on that. Kind of, but happened much earlier than I expected.

- Clint comes back, hence Nat’s smile in the new footage.

- Maybe they cut again to the dusted people working on their own solution. And/or Thanos.

- We see the Avengers working more/testing whatever time travel/quantum technology they’re developing. There are some emotional beats between different characters. They didn’t really pause long enough to have emotional beats in my opinion.

- They’re finally ready to use it. I still don’t have a clear idea on what could happen during this part of the plot. But they use their new allies and new technology to get what ever they need to face Thanos again. Yes, the infinity stones, but I didn’t really predict anything specific here.

- The final showdown. Everyone fights together, last chance, throw every power at the wall and see what sticks. They’re on the brink of defeat. Thanos is still too powerful. When things look very bleak for our heroes, all the dusted people come back. They rally and defeat Thanos. The rest of universe’s population that was dusted comes back. Mostly this is what happened, definitely the best part of the movie.

- Celebration, mourning, weddings, funerals, a taste of what the characters will be doing going forward. Kind of yes, kind of no.

- End Credits Scene(s)

- Cue black screen with white text, saying something to the effect of: The Avengers have done their jobs. Or the new Avengers will return.

General Predictions (as of March 25, 2019)

1. There is no time travel, aside from maybe whatever Scott does to get out of the quantum realm. The early leaked set photos that looked like they were from the Battle of New York were all BARF technology, dream sequences, illusions, alternate universes, etc.

2. They do explore multiple realities/universes.

3. The dusted people are not in the Soul Stone. I think I got this one right. I’m still a little unclear on what happened.

4. Tony survives and gets to marry Pepper and have a kid and a farm.

5. Steve survives, too. With everyone debating whether Steve or Tony or both will die, I think they might go for a surprise and kill off neither of them, making the death(s) someone(s) more unexpected. I guess he’s technically still alive at the end, but close to dying of natural causes.

6. I think at least one major or semi-major character will die and stay dead. At this point, I have no idea who. Yes, so far.

7. The MCU going forward is in a totally new universe/continuity. The more I think about the possibility of the multiverse, the more I think they might pull a Star Trek (2009) and have the fix involve creating a new timeline, therefore making permanent changes and definitively forging a fresh trail.

8. I hate to say it, but I think we will get some variation of White Vision. Prove me wrong, Marvel. I do not want to be right about this, but I just have a feeling. This would not be the absolute worst outcome because it could still be fixed, but I really, really hope I am wrong. I’m not sure, but I think I might have preferred White Vision to the complete nothing that we got.

9. They will fight Thanos more than once. Yes.

10. Shuri is fine. The picture of her on the missing people board in the first trailer was either a misleading shot or at that point in the movie, the Avengers genuinely thought she was dusted. She will help them defeat Thanos.

11. There will be a time jump. Despite the admission that misleading footage was used in the trailers, I think certain appearance changes in the characters point in only one direction. Individual shots may be misleading, but I think the general sense that a lot of time passes at one point will remain.

12. The Snap will still be reversed, but the fix will not involve undoing it entirely. Instead, people will be brought back to after the time jump has occurred. I just cannot fathom Marvel not bringing back half the universe’s population. But if the time jump remains intact, that will provide some permanent changes and losses.

Wishlist Items (as of December 11, 2018)

1. Vision comes back with his emotions/memories fully or mostly intact

2. Wanda et al. come back

3. Everybody lives

4. Alternatively, if anyone dies, have it be very important to the final victory and a grand send-off

5. Have all the Avengers be integral to winning, not simply rely on the awesome powers of a few of them

6. If time travel is involved, still have everyone remember the events of Infinity War

7. Emotional reunion between Vision and Wanda

8. Have Tony and Steve reconcile I don’t know, kind of, but not really.

9. Emotional reunions for everyone Most people got them.

10. A Pepper/Tony wedding at the end/show everyone celebrating

11. Showing the aftermath of IW for the general population Kind of, the bare minimum of showing that.

12. Full-on Return of the King style ending with 10 scenes showing little vignettes between various characters where everyone is happy or on their way to being happy Also kind of, a little bit

13. Happy or reflective post-credit scenes (no indication of a new threat on the horizon; let there be a moment of peace) No post credits scene?

14. At least 20 minutes-half an hour of wrap-up/celebration and/or mourning/preparation for moving forward after the final battle. Hell, I’d probably even take an hour. They have 10 years of movies to wrap up. I think it was more like 5 or 10 minutes.

15. Thanos gets the justice that is coming to him

16. Have Nebula kill Thanos (if that’s the resolution, which makes the most sense to me), and not Tony or Carol or someone else

17. Have Thanos be the main villain (I keep hearing rumors that this is not the case, but I think that it would be a bad idea)

18. A final battle scene that Sebastian Stan (I think) mentioned filming with every Marvel character making a grand last stand Almost everyone, except Vision. I’m still mad about that.

19. A (final?) pre-battle pep talk from Steve

20. Everyone meeting Carol kind of, also bare minimum

21. “Avengers, assemble!”

22. Ideally, I’d like Vision to come back as early in the movie as possible, but the more I think about it, the more that seems kind of unlikely. But if it doesn’t happen until the end, I’d love Tony to have a line something like, “I need to have all my sons at my wedding.”

23. Shuri and Peter Parker to interact

24. Thor (and Loki?) and Doctor Strange to meet again and have a callback to Ragnarok

25. Wanda and Doctor Strange to interact Not really, I think they were sort of next to each other at one point.

26. Wanda and Carol to interact same as above

27. Vision and Groot to interact

28. An explanation of Doctor Strange’s plan didn’t really get one

29. People interacting in the Soul World

Things I Didn’t Want to See (as of March 14, 2019)

1. White Vision

2. Wanda to somehow be pregnant/have the twins by the end of the movie. It seems probable that some variation of that is the eventual plan, which is fine, but I’d prefer them to wait a while to implement that. Let Wanda be happy and let her and Vision just be a happy/recovering couple for a while, let them more fully explore themselves and their powers first.

3. Redemption for Thanos. I know there is some precedent for him working with the Avengers in the comics, but it would make me angry if they just worked together in the face of a bigger threat despite everything that happened.

4. Captain Marvel or anyone else to save the day (almost) single-handedly. Most of the talk from the filmmakers and the marketing indicates that they are focusing on everyone being a team and working together, but I would be tremendously disappointed if that turns out not to be the case. It’s only proper that, as the apparent swan song for many of the original six, that much of the focus should be on them and the whole ensemble of all the Marvel heroes. I want everyone to be integral to the victory.

5. Lack of closure in general. I don’t want Thanos or any of the Infinity Stones hanging around. I guess the Infinity Stones are still around.

6. No Vision

7. No happy reunion for Wanda and Vision. There are definitely ways they could both come back, but still not get a happy reunion, which is why this is a separate item.

8. Anyone dying. Probably the most unrealistic, but I will hold on to hope until proven wrong.

9. More trauma for Wanda and Vision. What with the show still apparently happening, I have fewer and fewer doubts about the fact that both Wanda and Vision will come back (pretty much at 100% certainty for Wanda and maybe like 70-80% for Vision), but I am far less certain about what the movies/show will do to them once they come back.

10. Vision to be wiped out from ever having existed. I don’t think this one is too likely, but I do see some room for it to happen.

Things I Liked That I Didn’t Expect or Ask For

- America’s ass

- Wanda’s badass one-on-one confrontation against Thanos

- All the MCU women teaming up

Things I Didn’t Like That I Didn’t Expect or Ask For

- Virtually zero mention of Vision. Not even saying his name once. Honestly, the writers always seemed to like him. Did they suddenly get mind controlled by a Vision or Scarlet Vision anti?

- Fat jokes about Thor

- A cameo by one of the Russos (I always get them mixed up)—it was very stupid and self-indulgent, considering what they left out

#avengers: endgame #spoilers #endgame spoilers

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xwing-baby · 6 years

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The Avenger’s Angel (PART 1/?)

REQUEST: The reader is an angel that is a part of Team Free Will, but its 50 years in the future and she’s the only one alive. She ends up answering a prayer of one of the Avengers (Steve praying to find Buck maybe?”) and ends up becoming an Avenger!

Pairing: Eventual Steve x Reader (??) Bucky x Reader (friends??)

A/N: This is my 1st Marvel fic EVER!! I’m super excited for you all to read it, cus I have worked super hard on it. It’s gunna be in two parts, one part this week. Part two next week. Writing Marvel is HARD!! Thanks to @bethanystan for helping me with ideas and beta-ing. And thanks @sireennotsiren for the brilliant idea! I hope you enjoy and be sure to leave a comment in the notes.

Also special mention to @princess-evans-addict , @emilyevanston , and @imagine-assembling-the-avengers avengers. Each of your works has helped me immensely in getting these characters (sort of) right.

TAGGED: @sireennotsiren @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @krockszz

When I got my first look at Earth, I was immediately enamoured with it. The beautiful big blue seas, the rolling hills and sharp mountain tops. Rivers filled with silverfish that sparkles in the glorious light of the sun. It was just beautiful. I watched it all. Father built such a beautiful thing but unfortunately, it would not stay beautiful for long.

Father made Man. Adam and Eve were everyone’s favourite for a while. Those little-naked apes were adorable! But then… well, you only have to read the bible to know what happened.

From humans came murder, hate, greed. They chopped down trees and trampled land. They killed animals and took over until the once beautiful green land was now concrete and steel. The world the humans created was cold. There was poverty and so much suffering it was almost unbearable.

I hated humans for a while, they’d ruined my father’s creation! They killed the most animals and destroyed the most beautiful landscapes/ I hated them. However, like with most things- The Lord will prove you wrong.

After the angels fell from grace I was stuck. I fell in Manhattan, New York City, into a lovely girl named Emma. Emma wasn’t particularly special. She had a good job, two children, a dog and a cheating husband at home but she always devoted even in those troubling times. It was almost admirable.

Unfortunately, although I was very lucky to have survived the fall it seemed that that was all the luck I had. Within six hours of me falling I’d been attacked.

Somehow, Hell found out about the fall. All demons on Earth were on the lookout for the fallen angels and had been told to kill us all. How I got out would be impossible to tell you, I have no idea how I did it! I was already weak from falling, fighting a fully charged demon had drained me completely.

A fight between an angel and a demon was never a quiet ordeal, and thanks, mobile phones someone managed to get a film of it. I’d been shown it by the police when I was getting questioned. Somehow the very weak grace I had inside me managed to be enough not only knock the demon out of the man being possessed but also the glass out of the windows for the next two blocks over. You could call it luck, because well that’s all it was. I passed out almost immediately, almost sure that I would die, but somehow I managed to stay alive. The video went viral, the Winchesters saw it and came to meet me within four days.

At first, I didn’t trust the Winchesters. I barely trusted Castiel for that matter but slowly, over months of rather reluctantly helping them, I learnt to trust them. I learnt to like them.

Sam was the first of the three for me to trust fully. He was kind and had a much greater soul than Dean’s. He let me help with research when I was too weak to fight.

Castiel came second. At first, I hated him. He was the reason the angels fell after all. His betrayal was beyond comprehension but I saw his remorse and his pain. He didn’t mean for it to happen. We worked well as a team and although it took me a while to get used to his more ‘wayward’ ways, we become a lot closer. I never knew him in heaven, but having a member of my ‘family’ with me whilst trapped on Earth was comforting.

Dean was the last for me to trust. Nearly an entire year passed before he’d trust me. We were both very strong-willed and clashed almost daily. I didn’t know any better and in some situations, I would mess up or I would go against what Dean had said. It ended in huge fights and I even battered Baby a few times- usually ending with me getting a battering too. Yeah, we didn’t get along.

But like a lot of things, it took time and a lot of patients. We got there in the end and those three men became my family. My true family.

But they were dead.

I was alone.

I tried not to think about it much but sat in a once again empty bunker with nothing but Sam’s old dog to keep me company, it was kind of hard not to. For a time I didn’t do anything. I just sat and waited. They’d come back from the dead before! They could do it again! I hadn’t burned their bodies, all three’s coffins were sat in the basement. The lids left ajar and the door left open. Just in case.

Just in case.

A year, maybe two had passed by the time I decided to do anything with myself. Time travel wasn’t difficult. In a few simple steps, I could be back with my boys but… well, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. They were gone and there was nothing I could do. For a few years, I travelled, trying to teach new hunters on what to do. Luckily for them, Team Free Will went down kicking and dragged nearly every scary thing with them. Eventually, that wasn’t enough though. I had to leave.

Heaven has been a mess for a long time, there was no order or anything really for that matter! This reality was filled with too much regret. I had to move on, for my own sanity more than anything.

Alternate universes, although hard to come by were easy to jump to. I could have my fresh start. I could try again and maybe do a better job. I wouldn’t have to be constantly reminded of the blood and the screaming. I wouldn’t have to think about my family in such an awful way. I could be happy- or at least content.

This one was fairly similar to my previous reality. Except there were no monsters, not ones like I’d seen anyway? There was still war and anger but these humans had much more advanced science than any I’d seen before. Plus, there were superheroes. Real life superheroes- I can imagine how excited Dean would be about that-the jokes he’d make, the nerdy things Sam would add and how confused by the whole thing Castiel would be…

I shook my head, trying to shake the thoughts. This was a new start. Though I didn’t know where to start.

I needed a new vessel that was sure- vessels don’t do great passing through dimensions and Emma was failing, I felt a little bad but she’d done well- nearly eight years! Emma no longer had a voice in the back of my head, that’d died a long time ago, but I always felt of a duty to her to do what she’d have wanted and what she thought was right.

I didn’t want to take a living person’s body- I wasn’t entirely sure if it’d let alone what the implications of it were. This was a different universe after all. I decided to go to a hospital morgue. Get one, second-hand as it were. The vessel would be empty and I wouldn’t have to worry too much about the person’s history and what I could and could not do while habiting them.

Getting a new vessel is kind of like getting a new suit. It’s sort of uncomfortable and itchy but you soon get used to it. In a little while, it feels fine. I stole some clothes for this new vessel from the ‘lost and found’ box in an office in the next room then transported myself outside- not wanting to traumatise any doctors who came back to check on the dead woman.

New York was thankfully pretty much the same. It was comforting and surprisingly fitting seeing as this was the place it all began last time. I walked around for a while, getting used to walking and talking and doing nearly human things. But something felt off.

Something kept ticking in the back of my head. It felt familiar and like someone was calling my name. Which was impossible because no one knew it here. I tried to ignore it, tried to block it out, it was probably just paranoia. Or maybe it was a side-effect of jumping worlds.

I sat on a bench on the sidewalk and looked up at all the skyscrapers of Manhattan. I’d always liked human architecture.

One building stood out, one that hadn’t been in my old New York. A large silver sail-shaped building shone in the sunshine, which a glowing ‘A’ on the side. I decided to go check it out, curious as ever about this new world. Walking towards it, the tickle in my head became stronger and stronger. Until I finally realised what it was. It was a prayer. I tried to ignore it, but the tickle never left. I finally gave in to its little demands and listened.

It was a man. An old man. His prayer was quiet and almost as if he didn’t want to be heard at all. He was praying to find his friend. I couldn’t tell why but he’d gone missing. Or something to that effect. The prayer, surprisingly, was coming from somewhere close. So, like any good angel would, I decided to answer his call.

I flew to where ever the call was coming from. And much to my surprise, I landed on the edge of the helipad of the ‘A’ building I’d just been looking at. I looked around for a second, in awe of the beautiful view but then my focus returned back to the task at hand. Answer the prayer.

The man’s name was Steve Rogers and considering there was only one other person out here with me I assumed he was the man in question. The man was sat on the edge of the helipad, his legs hanging off the side.

“Excuse me?” I spoke up as I got closer to the man. “Are you Steve Rogers?”

“Who’re you?” The man jumped, startled by my sudden appearance, and looked up.

“My name’s Y/n,” I said softly, stepping a little closer, “I’m an angel of the Lord. I heard you’re prayer,”

“An angel? Yeah right?” He dismissed me, looking back down at the people on the street below

“You want to find your friend. You said you were scared, wanted to know if he was alright.” I pressed. Steve turned to face me once more, with a puzzled and amazed look on his face.

“I’m not scared. Bucky will be fine,”

“Then why are you sat on the edge of a building praying?” I asked with a smile. Steve laughed and shrugged. I sat down on the ledge with him and looked around at the view. The sun was setting now, and the golden light bounced off the glass-clad buildings making the entire city glow. Streams of light were visible along the highways into the city in the distance, and the somewhat quieter hum of the city below filled my ears. I sighed, breathing in the dirty air. It truly was beautiful here.

“It’s amazing what humans can do, turn back a few hundred years and this was all forest. Millions of miles of forest. Now, it is its own kind of jungle, much harsher but so much more… vibrant,” I mused, more to myself than to the man sat next to me. “Truly makes me envious of you all,”

“So you’re really an angel?”

“Yes,” I nodded,

“Why did you answer me? Why now?”

“I heard you. I haven’t heard a prayer in years, I just wanted to see who it was. I wanted to help. Like I used to,” I said wistfully.

“Can you really help me? Find Bucky, I mean?”

“Of course, that’s what angels do right?”

Mr Rogers told me all about his friend James. Or Bucky as he called him. The two were on a mission in Mexico when James was captured. Apparently, the two of them are super soldiers, whatever that meant. Steve had been a good one while James was the ‘Winter Soldier’. I don’t know what that meant but it sounded ominous. Steve said it’d been three weeks since he’d heard from his friend and he was starting to worry. Well, he didn’t specifically say that but it was pretty obvious.

The reason that Steve was sat on the helipad was that he was waiting to go and find his friend. A plane was being sent to send him and a team of special agents to retrieve him. Of course, I offered to help- in so answering his prayer. After a little hesitation, Steve agreed. If I could just appear on top of the tower then surely I could do a lot more.

One thing I did not anticipate however was the plane ride itself. It was awful. The moment the huge thing landed on the tower I was fear-stricken. I followed Steve obediently and tried to appear calm, but it failed.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” I lied, gripping the armrests tighter as the engines kicked in. “Brilliant, just never done this before,”

“You’ve never been on a plane?”

“Nope. I am definitely starting to see Dean hated this. This is highly unnatural!”My voice going up in pitch as I tried, with no effect, to stay calm.

“Just relax, it shouldn’t take long,”

“How can I relax when we’re hurtling through the sky at completely inhuman speeds? This is crazy, this is crazy!”

“Y/n, just calm down!”

“Calm down! I am a celestial being! I’m an energy from God and even I think this is unnatural! Why you are not freaked out by this!” I hissed, getting more and more agitated by the second. Steve just laughed and shook his head “How are you so calm about this?” I asked again, clipping myself into my seat.

“I’m a pilot, I love flying!”

“Crazy humans,”

“I thought angels could fly?”

“Yeah but that’s different. It’s not so much flying as it is teleportation. I can’t really feel it and I sure as hell don’t watch the world racing past while it happens”

“We’ll be there in an hour, its fine,”

The hour dragged on for what seemed like days. Constantly in fear, as I watched the world flash past below. Yes, it was mainly just clouds but the fact that we were so high, above the clouds, made everything so much worse. When the plane landed, I let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank father that’s over,”

“For a high power being, I really thought you’d deal better with that,” Steve teased.

“Yeah, well… Shut up,”

We got off the plane, stepping into the warm air. The last time I went to Mexico was when the Aztecs were ruling. They thought I was a goddess. It was quite fun really as much as I tried to protest it back then. Now, so much had changed. Mexico City was huge and bustling with people. Even though we were quite a way out of the city, I could still hear the traffic and the beautiful noise of human life.

I was not used to having so much order when it came to hunts. Before, it would be a set research, find, kill. Simple. Sorted. But with these people everything had to be planned out meticulously, back up squads and intercoms and to be honest I was getting impatient. I knew what I had to do. Why couldn’t I just go do it already?

‘The Captain’, as everyone called him, was walking around watching what everyone was doing while stood and watched him. I could tell everyone respected the guy, the way they all stood up straight and saluted him- heads so far up his ass you could barely see their legs. From what I’d seen so far, the guy was fairly normal. Super jacked but normal enough.

Eventually, the two different groups we had to bring sorted themselves out and we all split off into trucks. Steve and I in one, one team in the next and another team in the last. A couple engineers stayed behind to act as a control centre.

We drove for a while, through the outskirts of the city to towards a large industrial building. It loomed over the shanty town surrounding it like a mountain over a lake. Its solid concrete structure cast a rather ominous shadow over the little houses below it.

I followed Steve silently through the building. I was on high alert- sensing at least five men in the closed rooms. I hoped that we would be able to get in and out without much fuss, although that would be very unlikely.

The hallway was hardly lit, the deep red lights that lined the hall created more of an atmosphere than providing any light. Metal crates littered the way all once holding something important, I deduced, from the heavy locks on each. Whatever went on here was important and very secretive. There was still no sign of Bucky. Or anyone for that matter. For such an important place, we had just strolled in without any issue. It was unsettling, to say the least.

The three men and two women that came with us as the backup had split up from Steve and I a short while ago. As long as they all made it to the centre of this maze of a complex we’d be okay.

Suddenly, a crash and a thud erupted from somewhere. Steve and I stopped. Another crash and a scream. It had to be Bucky.

“Bucky!” Steve shouted, his voice echoing across the halls. “Buck!”

“Mr Rogers, please be quiet,” I hissed.

Steve, however, did not listen and quickly ran following where the noise had come from. Of course, I followed behind not wanting him to get into trouble. Turns out super-soldiers can run fast and by the time I turned the corner Steve had completely disappeared and it was silent once more. Great!

Cautiously I walked down the hallway checking every door and dark hallway for any sign of the man. Nothing. That was until I looked through the doors of what I thought was just a closet. I looked through the dust-coated glass on the door and saw the outline of two men. I slowly pushed the door open, slipping into the room

Two bodies lay on the floor near the door. Long dead. Both covered in dried up blood and dotted with bullet holes. Large cobweb covered windows on the walls let in golden streams of light, giving the entire room a yellow tinge. A few doors led out of the room and a broken down forklift sat collecting dust in a corner. Steve and a dark-haired figure stood in the middle. It must be Bucky.

Neither men were saying anything, both of them not sure what to do. Slowly, I walked up beside Steve. The dark haired man noticed me first, his blue eyes cutting straight into me- watching me closely as I walked up. If this was Bucky, he was nothing like I was expecting. He had a silver metal arm, for one thing, I was definitely not expecting that! He wore all black, though some of it was stained a weird brown- probably blood or dirt. He stood a little way off but didn’t seem afraid. Just confused.

“Bucky?! What’s the matter with you?” Steve spoke up, stepping slightly closer. I could tell that he was upset to see his friend like this. Maybe this was what he was like before. Steve had mentioned a ‘before’. Maybe this is what the backup team were whispering about. This ‘winter soldier’.

The long-haired man continued to stare at us. His fists were still clenched tightly and his metal arm clicked and buzzed as it moved slightly.

“Mr Barnes?” I continued forward towards him.

“Y/n what are you doing?”

“Helping,” I said, holding him off. “Mr Barnes are you okay?” He gave no reply. I could see the conflict going on inside his mind, something very dark was clouding it, something like nothing I’d ever seen before. I stepped closer again, Steve tried to protest but with a simple snap of my fingers, I sent him outside. “Mr Barnes, my name is Y/n. I’m an angel of the Lord,” I spoke slowly and calmly, approaching him almost like I would a spooked animal. “I’m only here to help. I’m not doing to hurt you,” I was only one step away from him now.

It was quiet for a moment. Both of us staring at each other. I tried looking someway into his mind but it was blocked. Something dark and twisted- not a demon or ghost, just dark. Like a thick black fog clouding the view. James launched at me in a second, pushing me straight down to the ground.

I quickly rolled out the way and kicking the man’s legs out from underneath him. He started to fall and just as I thought I had him down he flipped over, backflipping over his head and landing on his feet. I tried to gain a vantage point, running past him but the man grabbed my arm and threw me across the room. I skidded to a halt and jumped up as James launched himself at me again.

Several punches, a kick in the ribs and a knee to the jaw. Both of us were pretty battered by now, I had a split lip and a large array of bruises and cuts littering my body. Bucky was similar, his hair matted with blood- his own and mine.

“Let me help you!” I shouted. Again, James didn’t speak- just growled and launched at me again. I dodged the first punches, successfully jumping out the way- then into a locked door. Smacking my head on the wood. Hard. “Shit,”

Bucky stalked towards me as I recovered, I tried to move but my head spun. Everyone else in the building had gone, Steve was who knows where. I was stuck and was starting to panic. I couldn’t just fly off. I wouldn’t be finishing the mission and the prayer. Bucky was a few metres away now, his fists clenched tight and jaw locked.

I tried using my grace to knock him back. The usual strength didn’t work- only creating a wind in his hair if anything. I tried again and again. Nothing. It was too late. Bucky kicked me hard, grabbed my jacket pulling me up to face him.

“B-bucky. Please, I just-just want to help,” I chocked out, my mouth filling with blood as I spoke.

“I don’t know you,”

He raised his hand to punch me once more, no doubt then leaving me to bleed out. I shut my eyes and let myself go. When I opened my eyes again, Bucky was across the room, head bleeding and completely unconscious. Thank Father.

After a few moments of recovery, I got up and zapped Bucky and me outside to where we’d been told to meet back once the mission was over. The instant I appeared, I was swamped by medics from the team who took Bucky off onto the plane and me off to another area. I was patched up, much to my disapproval and protest. I could heal myself eventually, I just had ‘recharge’.

The medical team left me alone after a while; not knowing what I should be doing I just decided to sit and wait to be told. I did wonder where Steve was, however. The one thing I can never truly get a hundred percent right is teleportation of others, especially if I’m not concentrating on them. Once I sent Sam out of a risky situation but instead of sending him back to the motel I sent him to the middle of a very deep lake in North Dakota… in winter. So, obviously, I was anxious to see if I’d even sent him to the right continent. My questions were quickly answered, as Steve came storming through a few seconds later.

“What the hell were you doing?” He yelled.

“Me?” I replied, shocked by his tone. “I saved your friend like you asked!”

“No, you didn’t! You nearly killed him!”

“He was going to kill me!” I protested.

“That’s not an excuse!”

“Seems pretty valid to me Rogers!” I snapped, standing up to him now. “You never mentioned that your friend was a maniac! Whatever the hell got him could have gotten to you too, I was protecting you!”

“I could’ve helped,”

“I got him didn’t I?” I exclaimed, very confused as to why Steve was so upset.

“We were meant to be a team,”

“And I was being a good teammate and protecting you,”

“I don’t need protecting,” He snarled.

“You prayed to me. You wanted my help and you got it. I can easily put your friend back- leave him to die like he would have if I hadn’t shown up,”

“I thought angels were meant to be nice,” Steve said glaring down at me. I hacked out a laugh and rolled my eyes

“Whoever told you that? I’m a soldier just like you. Except I actually do my job,”

“Oh really?”`

“Absolutely,” I growled. With that I turned on my heel and disappeared, leaving Steve to stew in his anger.

I reappeared in the medic’s rooms. Bucky was awake, had an ice pack held to his head and a few stitches in his hands. I knocked on the door and walked in.

“I can heal that if you want,” I said sympathetically. Bucky looked me over, tilting his head in slight confusion.

“What are you?”

“A friend?” I said, half asking, trying to work out how Bucky would be feeling.

“No, no you’re not human. You can’t be!”

“I’m an angel,” I admitted.

“Who are you?” Bucky growled, putting the ice pack down, staring at me.

“Y/n. My name’s Y/n. Don’t panic please,” I stepped forward, putting my hand up to heal him.

“How do you know me?! Don’t-,“ Before he could move out the way, I pressed my index and middle fingers to his temple, healing the internal and external injuries I’d caused him.

“Steve prayed to me to find you, James,” I continued, smiling.

“Stop calling me that,” James snapped.

“That is your name,”

“Just call me Bucky, everyone else does,” He sighed.

I couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my face then. Maybe it was looking up after all?

WANT TO READ PART TWO?

#marvel x supernatural #marvel x reader #steve x reader #bucky x reader #angel!reader #marvel fic #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #winter soldier #captain america #part one #avengers angel #supernatural x reader #sam x reader #dean x reader #cas x reader

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angelwithoutleave-moving-blog · 7 years

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Vacancy Signs | Castiel & Dean

Pulling my thread with maryswaywardson over here from the archived blog~ My next response will be reblogged directly from your blog to the new one!

Castiel had never understood how mortals could question the very existence of the soul. He knew that they did – he heard enough prayers, after all – but Angels didn’t have that kind of uncertainty. An Angel’s Grace wasn’t just their power source, it was the essence of their being, their core, the part of them that remained true and unique across all dimensions and times they may travel. It was more a part of them than limbs or organs were to a man, but there was no way Castiel could have known how crucial it was to his very identity until it was gone.

He wasn’t really sure if all of the Angels lost their Graces – if the Grace itself just lost its “mojo,” as Dean called it – after Lucifer won his battle with Michael, or if he himself had been singled out for punishment. For his unique role in Heaven’s defeat. The “Angel Radio” was cut off, and there was no way for him to know how much of the family he’d left behind was still alive.

And even after losing everything he had ever known, watching Dean lose Sam was, comparatively, just as painful. He missed Sam himself, mourned him privately, but he didn’t feel like he had a right to. Especially because Dean refused to properly grieve himself.

They hadn’t stopped driving. They hadn’t really picked up a case, it seemed, and therefore didn’t have much of a direction. It was just the only thing Dean could think to do, he imagined. Castiel didn’t interrupt. He ate when Dean had to, slept when Dean couldn’t drive anymore, and hardly spoke a word. He knew that it wouldn’t change if he didn’t say anything, but there just…wasn’t anything to say.

They lost. The world was going to end. It would take years, and they could fight it, but they couldn’t win.

It must’ve been past midnight when they finally stopped at a cheap hotel, a few weeks after the last battle. In the wordless synchronization they had worked out between them, when Dean returned with the key, Castiel heaved their bags upstairs while Dean went to the nearest convenience store for a six-pack. His eyes searched for his friend’s, like they always did, but there was no contact to be had.

The hotel looked and smelled the same as all the others, and Castiel deposited the bags on the dresser. He fished out the toiletries and went straight for the shower. Even in a hotel, which Sam had once told him were covered in filth, he hated to go to bed with the road sticking to his skin.

He was towel-drying his hair in sweatpants and a t-shirt, with a toothbrush in his mouth, by the time Dean returned, already drinking from a bottle. Finishing his few strokes, he rinsed out his mouth and sealed it back in its sterile traveling case before he turned back to his friend. Dean’s routine from this point was to drink five out of the six beers – he always left one, but whether it was supposed to be for him or for Sam, he dared not ask – and skim through news reports until he passed out.

Castiel frowned at him as he pulled out Sam’s old laptop. “Dean,” he started, though he still wasn’t sure how to continue the thought. He focused on his friend in the hopes that he would finally meet his eyes.

Dean felt broken, like a porcelain doll dropped from the top of the Empire State Building, shattering to a million pieces as it hit the cement ground. He had been betrayed, by his own brother, and it would hurt until the day he finally died. He felt numb, which he supposed was better than the alternative. He was tired. Tired of feeling. Tired of trying so hard for nothing. Tired of it all.

He didn’t couldn’t stop the world from ending. It was inevitable now. He couldn’t wouldn’t mourn his brother’s death because he wasn’t dead. No, he refused to believe that. Sammy was in Lucifer, somewhere. He could feel that, at the very least.

He spent his days in auto pilot, drinking away his pain. Hunting, gathering supplies, and providing for the people of their camp. It was all he could do, while they played the waiting game. But tonight he just couldn’t take it anymore. So, he collected the only man who could remotely understand – and escaped. The only person in the camp that was as broken as he was. It crushed him to watch his angel fall. He wanted to take the blame. He wanted to be there for Cas, the way Cas was always there for him. He just didn’t know what to say or how to say it. Dean was never really good at that sort of thing.

When Cas spoke his name, his heart froze with his actions. He sighed heavily, running his fingertips along the closed laptop longingly. He finally met his friend’s shattered and tired blue eyes. “Cas…I just…I don’t know.” He spoke low and slow, lost in the fog that stuttered his thoughts. He averted his eyes to the remaining bottles in the pack, reaching for one to hand it to Cas wordlessly.

Castiel had been human long enough now to know the impulse to touch someone. He had always longed to comfort Dean, so very many times that they experienced wordless torment, but Angels had no preconception that physical contact would help. He was no Angel now. And somehow, though he and Dean had only ever exchanged the most casual and friendly of physical interactions, he still instinctively wanted to… hug him, console him somehow.

Instead, he took the beer with a nod of gratitude. (Though he had also learned that beer was unpleasant.) He reached for the bottle opener offered and returned it after discarding the metal top, but he didn’t take more than a sip at a time.

He hadn’t expected Dean to say much at all. If anything, maybe something like, “I’m fine, Cas.” Or, “I don’t wanna talk about it. Ever.” Or maybe, “Would you stop looking at me like I’m about to throw myself off a friggin’ bridge?” (He had started this conversation several times in his own head, on their long drives.) The crack in Dean’s carefully tough demeanor was a surprise, and it tugged at Castiel’s heart.

“Dean,” he started again, finally reaching forward across the small empty space between them and letting his hand fall on his friend’s knee. Just to keep his attention, to offer some kind of solace, to insist on his sincerity. To emphasize the importance of what he was about to say. “I know that this is the last thing you want to hear. But you need to let yourself grieve.”

He knew that the words themselves weren’t going to get him anywhere, so in the long silence that followed, he stood and stepped closer to just quietly close the laptop. “I can go, if you want,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Or I can stay.”

Dean gripped the neck of the beer bottle tighter and tighter during each aching silence. He’d refused this conversation so many times over, that he was practically a pro at avoiding it by now. Unfortunately, his best friend was also a pro at digging into his heart until his suppressed feelings would burst from it. It wasn’t like Cas did it on purpose. In fact, Dean was 100% positive the guy wasn’t even aware he was doing it. But something about that son of a bitch, consumed Dean’s insides like a scarab.

Dean could’ve sworn he felt the warmth radiating from his friend’s fingertips as his hand fell to his knee. He stared intently at his boots until the screech of his companions chair shifting backwards, snapped him back into reality. Cas’ voice was almost fuzzy as the words processed through his mind, sifting out the things he didn’t want to hear like “let yourself grieve”. He wouldn’t grieve shit because Sam wasn’tgone.

He was about to snap and argue when Cas stood before him. Offering what he thought Dean would want. Offering to let Dean be alone. He couldn’t blame him for assuming that’s what the hunter would want. He normally would be spot on in his assumption but not tonight. Tonight he needed something more. Someone. He needed his best friend. He needed Castiel.

Dean hesitated to look up. He started at his bottle, to the laptop, watching his friend’s careful movements. Like Dean was a rabid animal, waiting for the opportune time to attack. But when his emeralds met the fallen Angel’s pair of sapphires, the sea of blue washed over him like a cleansing rain storm. He reached for Cas’ wrist instinctively, as it started to fall back to his side. Keeping his gaze with the strongest intent and sincerity. He finally muttered a single word after minutes of silence, matching Cas’ soft tone.

“Stay.”

Castiel froze where he was at Dean’s touch, more because he was afraid that moving away would frighten his friend out of his sincerity than due to any of fear of the hunter himself. He turned his eyes to Dean’s face as the other man’s gaze wandered its way to meet his. Silver light somehow softened and intensified their vibrancy, striking the former Angel breathless. And Castiel would have liked to think it was just the way the moonlight, peeking in through the small part of the curtains, shone just so on Dean’s irises, that rooted him to the spot.

But he had also been human long enough now to know better than that. To know that the feelings that he had been able to shut out as an Angel were not so easily ignored or suppressed a man. He knew it had started a long time ago – perhaps the very moment he’d laid eyes on Dean’s soul, radiant and golden and unblemished, in the midst of the desiccated and bleak dullness of Hell – and he sometimes wondered if the amount of time he had spent ignoring his adoration for the hunter had made this feeling stronger than humanly possible. It was certainly stronger than anything else he had felt as a mortal – hunger, exhaustion, desperation, fear, even the ever-present grief for Sam – but he had no reference point for just how much more potent his love for Dean was compared to what poets and songwriters and painters had tried so hard for so long to manifest.

But he understood art now. He understood the impulse to try to make this feeling known, to express it and give it shape in the world as something that could be acknowledged. Especially when the subject of such strong feelings did not acknowledge them. Castiel smiled, under the imploring weight of his beloved’s gaze, but he didn’t know if anything but sadness touched his expression.

“Of course.”

Dean inhaled sharply under the pressure building in his chest. A fire was burning in his throat and he knew exactly what he needed, what he wanted, to put it out. He’d known for awhile, for years, but he could never put it into words. Into feelings that he could grasp, because he was always just out of reach. Not that Cas was ever not there. Just… He was…so much more than Dean. So much more than a man.

And now…now he was the same as Dean. Yet, somehow the hunter still couldn’t come to terms with any of it. With his rise at the beginning, his angel’s fall, his brothers corruption in the end. The fear he had of being alone, being rejected by the only person who saw him for what he was. The only person he could confide in – show his true self without feeling isolated…

The hunter moved with hesitation, Castiel’s warming smiling the only thing shattering his cold doubts. He placed his bottle on the table as he stood, keeping his gaze locked with his friend’s. He could feel his heart pounding out of his chest, sliding his hand down from Cas’ wrist to his hand. He breathed unevenly, inhaling deeply, wordlessly, as he entangled their fingers together. He felt a spark tingling through his skin, letting his heart pilot his actions, instead of holding back like he had all this time before.

They were alone. There was no one here to cast judgment, he had nothing to fear except abandonment. Something Cas had never done before, he’d always been there for Dean. He was his savior and Dean could see that clearer now, than he ever had before. It’s amazing what the end of the world could do to a person. Opening your eyes to all the things you have and could lose. He was afraid��for the first time..of truly losing his best friend. It was so easy now that he was human, for him to just be…gone. He moved his other hand across Cas’ unshaven cheek, anchoring it on the back of his neck. “I need you…” He whispered softly, his voice broken under his usual confident persona.

Castiel’s heart fluttered as Dean’s finger’s drifted down from his wrist to his hand, but he tried not to think about it too hard. Dean didn’t mean anything by it, he told himself. Just an absent touch. But when the hunter’s fingers slotted between his, tangled in them and squeezed, the former angel’s eyes widened. His heart raced erratically even as he tried to keep himself from hoping too much. From letting his feelings rise so high that it killed him when they crashed.

But Dean didn’t stop there. The man’s knuckles brushed through the short hair along Castiel’s cheek, and his knees were inexplicably weak, as though he might wither under Dean’s touch. But the hunter seemed determined not to let him, the anchoring weight on the back of his neck steadying him and locking him in place as firmly as Dean’s eyes. Feeling so rooted might have felt heavy if it were anyone else, but Dean made him feel like he was flying again, somehow…

They were so close now that there was nothing but warm breath between their lips – not as much as there should have been. Castiel couldn’t remember how to breathe. (How could a person forget how to breathe?) His eyes shone with questions, but he didn’t voice any of them. Even if he could breathe, he wouldn’t risk shattering whatever fragile thing hovered between himself and his best friend.

“I’m here,” he managed to exhale.

Dean damn near laughed, he was so nervous. Something so simple, he’d done a thousand times over, suddenly the most complex thing he’s ever had to do. Wanted to do. The amount of courage it took the hunter to make his next move was rather too embarrassing for his own good, and definitely not something he would ever admit out loud.

He could feel his heart beating faster. Hell, he could hear it. Which solely made him panic MORE, with the thought that Cas could hear it too. His pupils dilated with desire, as he nervously brushed his fingers into the short hairs on the back of Cas’ neck. Taking one long inhale totally not relaxing in any way, shape, or form , as the hunter’s body tensed under the pressure of what he was about to do, and how it would change their relationship FOREVER.

Forever was certainly a long time, to fuck something up. But the want in the moment, out weighed the turmoil of what could be their future. Finally, pushing away all his self doubt, history of wrecking good things, and anxiety of the unknown….Dean whispered a thank you in response to the prior angel’s assurance, before he pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Parting them gently with his tongue as the hunter’s fingers tightened in his hair. Removing his other hand from his best friend’s, to steady on his hip, pulling him in closer as they indulged themselves in sin.

Castiel simply froze under Dean’s lips, from his heart all the way through his mind. Any kind of fantasy he had about something like this happening had been buried so deep that it took several seconds for it to make its way back to the surface. Despite the firm touch of Dean’s fingers, his lips were so light that they could almost not even be there, gently pressed against his own–

Until the hunter’s tongue slid along the seam of Castiel’s lips, and he gasped softly as he allowed its entrance. Contrary to his response just half a second before, his body erupted in response to the warm caress of Dean’s tongue: his heart sped up and jumped erratically, his breathing was rushed and short, and a short sound escaped unbidden from his throat.

With the weight of Dean’s hand on his hip, Castiel’s free one found itself woven into fine light hair. He was unfamiliar with the urges commanding his body, but he followed the instincts anyway. Without thinking, he shifted them back towards the bed. When he felt the backs of his knees hit its edge, however, he finally had the sense to stop and withdraw from the kiss.

His breath came in warm pants as his dilated eyes found his best friend’s. “Dean?” he asked in a rough whisper. He started to ask something – what are you doing? are you sure about this? shouldn’t we talk? – but before he could figure out what, his gaze drifted down to Dean’s lips, and he was leaning in to recapture them in his own.

Everything had been so painful up to this point, Dean couldn’t imagine being anything less than tender. It was finally happening, the kiss he’d longed for, dreamt about, lacked the courage to take hold of. But he was holding the angel now. Tight against his chest, as he pulled the air from Cas’ lungs in gentle strokes of his tongue against his companion’s. His own breathing stuttered with excitement as his heart beat increased eagerly, with the small bouts of passion being exchanged between their lips.

There was shift and he felt himself being pulled in for more, as Cas involuntarily backed up to find the bed. He inhaled a sudden full breath that he could finally take with their mouths momentarily disconnected. “Cas?” He questioned back, undoubtedly having the same thoughts- or maybe he wasn’t. Did he even want this as bad as Dean did? Or was he just doing this because he felt bad for the hunter? No, that was stupid. He could feel something different here. It wasn’t like all his other encounters. So much spark just in a kiss- his thoughts interrupted by just that.

He hummed blissfully, reassuringly, into the fresh kiss. He wouldn’t get sick of the warm breaths pushing into his own as their lips moved against each other. His hands fell to his jacket, shimmying the fabric off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. He pressed deeper into the kiss, his fingers lingering at the hem of Cas’ shirt just before he pulled it off. A short gasp escaping his throat as he took that second to refill his lungs, admire the man in front of him he’d wanted for so long…

“Cas…” he repeated softly, without question. Almost gleeful, happy, even. Their gaze meeting and melting the hunter’s cold demeanor he’d inhabited from the crumbled world around him. His palm reached to frame the fallen angel’s face. Slipping around to the back of his neck without breaking the eye contact. He couldn’t even put into words what he wanted, he could only hope his friend- his best friend- wanted the same. He kissed him gently, directing him to fall back into the mattress. He positioned himself over him, kissing him passionately again before breaking away to pull his own T-shirt off.

On his knees, he straddled his friend’s hips. His eyes falling over his bare chest, fingers tracing the muscle, scars, tattoos…Contemplating if what he was instigating was worth it. Worth the fight, the pain, the change…but something about the look in Cas’ eye gave him hope he hadn’t seen before. Or maybe he had, but chose to ignore it. “We don’t have to do this-” he whispered softly, letting his fingers find his friend’s as he leaned in to drop kisses along his throat. “It’s just-” he couldn’t even explain it, he wanted so badly to just show him.

Castiel could still hear the small voice in his head protesting, calling for discussion, asking more questions. But the blissful warmth of Dean’s kisses, his hands, his hums, his body– it was like a current, and the former angel found himself quickly being swept away. He suddenly couldn’t touch Dean enough. There was a whole level of intimacy that he had never explored with his best friend – with anyone – and once the first step was taken, Castiel needed to have it all. He needed to know Dean, to catalog every reaction, to memorize the contours of his skin, to find a place for himself in Dean’s heart that couldn’t belong to anyone else.

To that end, he returned every kiss, reciprocating all of the passion and excitement that Dean poured into him. The way his name sounded in the hunter’s voice made Castiel shiver, though the tingles spreading under his skin were anything but cold. Green eyes sought his, and Castiel met them. His breath caught in his throat at the spark that he found within them, shining with something more hopeful than he’d seen in his best friend since…

Even as his body was responding eagerly to Dean’s every touch, Castiel’s mind was slowly catching up with their impulses. He desperately wanted to do whatever he could to keep that brightness in Dean’s eyes, wanted to be whatever his friend, his commander, his beloved needed him to be. But Dean’s fingers were trembling and his breath was shaking, and there was a sickening chance that this could make things so much worse. It made heat tingle behind Castiel’s eyes, the thought that this connection he’d craved for so long could burn bright for one night just to go completely dark in the light of day.

“Stop,” he tried to say, but the word came out in a choked gasp. “Stop,” he said a little clearer, trying to keep his voice soft. His breath was still coming in hot puffs, and even as Dean stilled above him, Castiel’s body kept buzzing with need. He willed his instincts to slow down and lifted his hands to cup Dean’s face, to raise it so that he could meet the man’s eyes. He needed Dean to know that he wanted this, that this wasn’t a rejection by any absurd means, only… concern. And fear.

"Are you sure this is what you need?” he asked softly. His thumbs brushed the scruff along Dean’s jaw adoringly. Licking his lips and finally catching his breath, he continued, “Dean… Ineed you to be sure.” There was a devotion so deep that it was almost painful in his eyes when he confessed, with a crack in his voice, “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.” He drew his breath in deep, keeping the pools in his eyes from overflowing. “And if you need to just… to touch, to hold, to be… close, for just tonight, I can. But if we keep going like this, I…” He failed to keep the tears from spilling as he whispered, “I can’t pretend it never happened in the morning.”

Endorphins swirling in his head made it fuzzy, hard to comprehend exactly what he’d started. The rush came first, then the need, followed by unsettling panic. He worried that he’d gone to far, let his lowered inhibition get the best of him while his animalistic instincts took over. It was the break in Castiel’s voice that snapped him back to reality.

The weight of the whole world depended on the two of them. They were in this together and it was just oh, so in Dean’s nature to fuck shit up. Always trying to fix what wasn’t broken- but, the two of them were very much shattered. They’d watched each other fall into this. What they had become- in that split second. he wondered how much worse off he would’ve been without Cas as his crutch. Even at rock bottom, the angel never gave up on the hunter.

Dean leaned into the touch, eyes closed, his breath shaky as soft hands cupped his face. Pulling him back into the moment, into burning eyes that made Dean’s heart ache for his friend even more. The words replayed in his head while his hand came up to brush tears from his friend’s eyes. <I>Always been yours. </I> He was at a loss for words but he knew he had to say something.

Choking on his thoughts, wishing he could stop the tears from falling down Cas’ cheek. “Please, don’t-” it was a request really, seeing him like this hurt more than any other day. Despite that they’d both seen each other at their absolute worst. His head fell to his shoulder, placing a soft kiss to his clavicle then to his neck. “I don’t want to to pretend with you. I can’t anymore.”

He inhaled a sharp uneven breath. Falling to Cas’ side, he pulled his friend as close to him as possible. Holding his head against his erratically beating heart, calloused fingers tangled in his hair. He didn’t know what he needed, but he knew being here like this, with Castiel, was a start. “You’re the only one– who has ever been able to see me for who I truly am.” He confessed, squeezing him tighter, fighting back his own tears. He’d be strong for Cas, like he’d always been for him. He owed him that.

The soft assurances and confessions slowly eased the tension in Castiel’s chest, until it didn’t burn and the wetness around his eyes dried. His breath was still short, his pulse still erratic, as Dean’s lips pressed more than words into his skin. He could feel the raw sincerity in his friend’s voice, when he said that he didn’t want to pretend, and it made the former Angel’s heart flutter madly.

He wanted to ask questions. But what have you been pretending? What is it that you want instead? How do you feel about me? But he knew Dean wasn’t ready to answer those questions. And Castiel had waited far too long to lose his patience now and demand more of his friend than he could give. He would wait, and he would wait gladly. Because he knew that it would be worth it, when Dean was ready to love him back.

But what made a quiet kind of panic stir in Castiel’s gut was the knowledge that they may not have time to wait. With the state of the world, the war, the virus, the fallout of Judgment Day, they were both painfully aware that every day may be their last. Castiel had thought that he had come to terms with the idea that he may not ever live to know Dean’s love, but now, with such intimacy exchanged between them… The thought made fresh tears spring to his eyes just as he felt himself being pulled against the hunter’s solid chest.

“I love you,” he said wetly, and he almost hoped that his words were incoherent around the thickness in his throat. But he needed to say it. And this was the first time he had allowed himself to, because he may not get another chance. “I love you,” he said again, softer as his tears faded away again in Dean’s arms. He wrapped his own around his friend and shifted close enough that they had to tangle their legs together. Finally, he sighed comfortably and wondered if he was already dreaming. If he had been dreaming all along.

#v: devil's backbone #p: vacancy signs #maryswaywardson

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