Ok but like imagine. The ep is still as it was BUT when dean takes off with his car we see Cas appearing next to him and dean smiling.
Misha couldn’t be there? I call bullshit but fine. Then have a shot of him from behind in his trenchcoat using a double, saying hello dean. Dean smiles. THAT WAS LITERALLY IT.
15x18 pulled me back into the fandom and boy do I regret it
Get more out of life. die of tetanus. refuse to acknowledge the gay angel who died for you. put a "no queers" sign on your heterosexual heaven car. listen to the evanescence cover of carry on my wayward son while your brother dies in a party city wig.
in honor of the shitshow that was supernatural, tag this with the tv show that had the best ending you’ve ever seen, and the tv show that had the worst ending you’ve ever seen
Okay but honestly. Not only did I not cry I outright laughed at some of the “sad” scenes. Like when dean said “I love you” I was like “oh so he is physically capable of saying it. Who would have thought” and the forehead thing was weird tbh
Also the lady from production saying they didn’t have misha bc of Covid. Covid my ass, with all the people they had there this is just bad writing. We literally only needed an off screen “Hello Dean” with dean smiling. No need showing Misha, hell they could have used an old recording!!! Wtf go there in 15x18 if they didn’t intend to follow through if not to go from queerbaiting to bury your gays?
Castiel baby I’m so sorry they did you so dirty
Let’s not even mention the faceless love interest, poor Eileen
Hi! I finally gathered the courage to read concatenation (normally I don’t really read fics with unhappy endings) and I LOVED IT. I mean, it tore my heart out, threw it on the ground and stepped on it, but still. It made me feel so much, which is not something that a lot of stories are able to do. Just a question, I remember reading somewhere that you would maybe write a fix-it but I can’t find it anywhere, so was it just an idea or something you plan to do? Thanks!
hello! there was talk about a fix-it for it a few years ago, and i did start one, but i’ve since deleted it after only writing a few paragraphs. i couldn’t write a fix-it that did any justice to the story.
i did write an epilogue, tony’s letter, that you probably already read if you just read the series, just to kind of tie up tony’s thoughts on everything for people who wanted that. it was part of marvel trumps hate for 2016 i believe.
but yeah, no fix-it fi planned or published. i’m so happy you read the series though, and that it was worth it for you to have waited so long to read. :) it always makes me smile when i see someone new has left a comment or kudos or something. <3
i did find a little section of a fic i never published while i was looking for the epilogue i had started, so though it’s not a fix-it, it isn’t angsty (at least, not to me lol)! just some stony pining sass and quips.
below the cut!
Grey streaks of sunlight filtered through the missile-proof glass of the of an empty bedroom in the Avengers compound. Despite being unoccupied, the room was meticulously clean—the most unkempt part about it being the memory foam mattress on the floor, still wrapped in plastic. A low crackle of thunder echoed against the barren, muted-grey walls, and as the winds changed, the patter of rain against the glass could be heard from the doorway as Steve stood there, surveying.
The compound was much smaller than it appeared upon first glance. The living area was one of the biggest rooms, excluding the training facility that wasn’t attached to the compound itself. Steve was starting to see it as home, but it would take time. New faces were appearing faster than he could remember names, and he had a bit of trouble with that. So many of them were just kids. So many of them would be barely functioning human beings without powers, but here? It was impossible to expect them to meld perfectly. But they tried. Tony and Bruce spent hours designing things to be comfortable and accepting.
Steve just never anticipated himself being the one to feel out of place here. It wasn’t like it was that big of a surprise, but he’d just been so comfortable living at the SHIELD compound, then in the Tower. Upstate New York was a big jump from that.
“Captain,” Friday said, her voice coming in crystal clear as though she was standing right beside him. “Mr. Stark is able to see you now. Please make your way to the conference room, Sector Alpha.”
Despite being small on the first two floors, the compound had an extensive underground network that was large enough to warrant its own zip code.
“Thank you,” Steve said, glancing around the empty room once more. It would be filled within the month, he was sure. It was either a new superhuman, or a visiting one. The guest manifest was something of a joke nowadays.
Steve made his way down the hallways, eyes running over the photos hung on the walls. Various teammates with their arms slung around each other, laughing. Triumphant newspaper articles showing zero casualties and major victories. Graduations, awards—all kinds of things that made the compound feel more like a college campus than a house.
But the further along he went from the living quarters, the sleeker and more professional things became. Steve was more comfortable here, surrounded by expansive glass windows and minimalist metalwork. No photos, no art on the walls. Everything became sterile and transparent.
The windows to the conference room had already been tinted, effectively sealing the room from wandering eyes. Not that Steve had seen a soul since arriving, but it was barely five in the morning, so everyone was either asleep or training already.
The doors opened for him as he entered the conference room. An enormous oak table took up most of it, and several windows were actually seamless TV screens to watch something upwards of fifty channels at a time.
Tony sat with his back facing the main screens, sprawled in his chair, turning back and forth, back and forth. He fiddled at a tablet screen, two fingers curled at his mouth. He was working, but it was busywork. Steve knew the difference between a Tony in crisis and a Tony trying to distract himself. Either way, he didn’t acknowledge Steve’s arrival.
Steve took it all in stride, and rounded the table to take a seat beside Tony. He scooted back a bit, putting a healthy amount of space between them.
The sound of the rain didn’t reach them here. Natural light didn’t even reach them here. Everything was artificial and cold. A war room.
Steve leaned back in his chair, propping his head up with one hand. Silence ticked by, broken only by the quiet taps of Tony’s fingers on the glass of his tablet.
“You’re late,” Tony finally muttered, not looking up.
“Yeah,” Steve said, lifting his head from his hand in a casual motion. “I was looking around.”
Tony let out a snort. “I ought to clear out your room and give it to someone else, with how often you show up.”
“I’ve been busy,” Steve said quietly.
“Busy,” Tony repeated.
“Yeah.”
“Busy,” Tony said again.
With a final tap to his tablet, Tony tossed the piece of glass like a discarded magazine. It skittered across the table and settled a few inches from Steve. Steve glanced at it, expecting to see some sort of article or video, but it was blank.
“I wasn’t aware—“
“You can’t just leave me like that,” Tony growled. “In charge. You can’t just do that without warning me first.”
“Remind me to tell the mass murderers of the world to give me a heads up before they start killing people,” Steve replied easily, unfazed.
“That’s bullshit,” Tony shot back. Steve couldn’t see true anger in his eyes yet, though. “You’ve been stateside for three weeks. You can’t possibly think I didn’t know you’ve been stateside for three weeks—did you think I didn’t know?”
Steve blinked once. “I didn’t think you cared.”
Tony scowled at him, leaning forward in his chair. “What were you doing on your little vacation?”
Steve shrugged. “I had to clean my place out in Brooklyn. My lease was up a month ago and they held everything out of courtesy. I had to arrange to get it all shipped here.”
“Your storage unit,” Tony said tartly.
Steve frowned. “It arrived, didn’t it?”
“Of course it arrived. It arrived weeks ago.”
A shrug was all he could really muster in response. “Then I helped with cleanup for that Queens disaster—which I’m sure you saw on the news. After that I visited Bucky in Brooklyn for a few days, saw Sam on his leave weekend and helped out at the VA.”
Tony worked his jaw, and Steve cocked a brow at the flicker of anger he saw in his eyes now.
“You’re a real class act, Rogers,” Tony finally forced out. He stood abruptly, and Steve reflexively stood too.
“Hey, what’s going on? I didn’t warn you, I get it. I’m sorry. But I don’t always get a warning, Tony.”
He didn’t realize he’d reached out until Tony shrugged him off.
“Don’t,” Tony hissed. “Don’t start with that shit.”
Now Steve was genuinely confused. “Okay. Let’s—we can talk about this. Let’s talk about this. That’s what we’re here for, right?”
That response only served to piss Tony off all the more. “Oh please. Enough with that feelings crap, Steve. I’m done with all of that—I’ve been done since you—“
Steve hand came to rest on Tony’s cheek, effectively silencing whatever he’d been about to say. A warm understanding came to Steve’s eyes, and he moved closer, enough to feel Tony’s breath on his collarbone.
“You think I wasn’t thinking about you,” Steve said.
Tony jerked back, but Steve followed him, keeping close.
“Shut up,” Tony cut. “That’s not what this is about.”
“Sure. You’re just here to chastise me about my leadership.”
Tony slapped his hand away. Hard. Hard enough that Steve had to blink a few times to process, and that was enough time for Tony to snatch up his tablet and start toward the door.
“Welcome back, Cap. I’m getting some coffee, then you’re going to meet Vision, Natasha and I to bring you up to speed.”
He stormed toward the closer exit, and Steve thought momentarily to let him leave.
Of course, Steve Rogers never let anyone get the last word.
He jumped forward, cutting Tony off at the door and yanking him into a kiss.
He tasted like bourbon. Just a faint taste, like he’d sipped on some hours ago and hadn’t eaten anything since. Tony certainly hadn’t slept--judging by the bags under his eyes--so Steve knew better than to assume he’d fallen asleep with that taste in his mouth.
“You didn’t say anything,” Tony hissed when they broke apart. He gave Steve a frustrated shove.
“You said no favoritism.”
“Fuck you,” Tony spat. “That doesn’t mean you don’t show me some fucking decency.”
“Let me get coffee with you,” Steve murmured, hands settling at Tony’s waist.
Tony was quick to remove them. “No.”
“Tony,” he began, “Tones. Let me get you coffee.”
Tony just scowled at him. “I don’t know what I expected from you, if I’m being honest. I genuinely don’t. I don’t know what I expected. But I definitely didn’t expect you to treat me like a dick.”
A little flare of anger nibbled at Steve’s gut. “You laid the groundwork very clearly. You specifically told me you wanted no special treatment. You specifically told me you wanted this to be a working relationship. Professional—that was the word you used.”
“Because that’s what I want,” Tony cut. “But that doesn’t mean you ignore me!”
“I didn’t ignore you—“
“You didn’t so much as text me when you came back. I got a mission report five days later after two weeks of nothing.”
“If you were worried about me, you’re allowed to say it. Nobody’s here.”
“Fuck you.”
Tony tried to leave again, but Steve hooked him around the middle with one arm, blocking his path.
“We talk here or we talk over coffee,” Steve said evenly. “Those are the options. I don’t care which.”
“You don’t get to make those decisions. I’m heading the compound right now.” Tony chopped his arm with an elbow, and Steve relented. He slid away, and Tony shot him a glare. “I’ll see you when we meet with Nat and Vision. You know, our teammates? Red guy, weird looking? Girl, red hair? Short? Likes leather and spandex?”
“Tony—“
He didn’t get another word out before the door was closing and Tony was walking briskly toward the in-house coffee shop.
Steve watched him go, unsure of the sudden strain in his chest. What he and Tony did behind closed doors was nobody’s business, but apparently that special treatment he’d been so adamant about not receiving was something he’d actually wanted all along. This was something Bucky would laugh at him for, had Steve dared to break his promise not to tell. But he was pretty sure Bucky already knew anyway. The whole team knew, at least in some fashion.
With a heavy sigh, Steve stepped out and headed in the opposite direction, chewing the last of the bourbon taste from his bottom lip.
************
“There really isn’t much to report,” Natasha said, thumbing through digital pages of activity logs. “A few issues with telepathic powers, but Wanda and Vision handled that area. Combat training schedules are consistent, as is improvement.”
“T’Challa visited for several days and imparted some wisdom in a sort of ‘master class,’ if you will,” Vision added. “We saw a slight spike in improvement with several female students after his visit.”
Natasha rolled her eyes, but Vision continued, oblivious to his innuendo.
“All in all, very few issues to report that concern you, Captain Rogers. A few technical malfunctions with our security system, an attempted trespass by a belligerent ‘fan’ of ours, and two incidents of misconduct—all of which were handled appropriately.”
Tony was staring at him through a stylish pair of glasses, but Steve ignored him. “Sounds like everything went smoothly.”
Natasha leaned back, only briefly glancing between him and Tony. “So, you’re back to stay with us for a little while?”
“For now, yes,” Steve said with a nod. “I figure I ought to help out since I left so abruptly.”
Tony let out an indignant snort.
“Really, we need to get our advanced hand-to-hand classes back on track,” Natasha said. “I’ve been able to handle it, but I can only teach so many classes before fatigue sets in. If I’m called on mission, I don’t want to be worn down.”
“I don’t need the explanation,” Steve chuckled. “I’ll handle those, and I’ll start back in with the combat strategy too, if that’s okay.”
“You’re the best one for it,” Natasha replied with a shrug. She stood, gently tapping Vision on the shoulder. “Well, we’ll leave the two masterminds to discuss. As far as I’m concerned, this meeting is over.”
“Thank you for the update,” Steve said with a dip of his head. “I appreciate it.”
Natasha grabbed her bag and left, nearly closing the door in Vision’s face, but he passed right through it amyway. There was light music playing in the background, coming from the wet bar over in the far corner. Steve thought to ask if Tony wanted a drink, but he knew better.
“I wanted to apologize,” Steve said after an unsteady silence had lengthened between them.
Tony said nothing. He turned his face away, chewing the inside of his cheek.
“I should have contacted you. The reason I didn’t was because I didn’t know where we stood. Last time we talked, you made it very clear that you didn’t want any special treatment—hell, that you didn’t even want me to talk to you outside of ‘business hours.’ So how was I supposed to guess that you wanted me to text you?”
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, but still wouldn’t look at him.
Steve had to fight every urge to keep pressing, but he held his tongue and leaned back instead, at a loss. Their relationship was complicated at best, and moments like theses made it even worse for them.
“Pick one word and tell me how you would describe what I mean to you,” Tony said, eyes still closed. “I want you to pick one word.”
Steve frowned, but began to rake his brain for the proper word. Surprisingly enough, a blank nothing came to mind. He could think of no word to describe Tony Stark. None that would accurately fit. Friend, confidant, partner. He trusted Tony more than anyone on Earth. More than Bucky at this point. Bucky was still too unpredictable in some instances.
“Everything,” Steve said decidedly.
Tony finally looked up at him, momentarily shocked. It quickly faded to anger, though.
“Well. Some way to show it,” he snorted.
“What do I mean to you?” Steve pressed, unaffected by Tony’s quip.
Tony’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if he’d just discovered he’d been tricked
“Well?”
For a moment Steve thought that Tony wouldn’t respond. Instead, Tony let out a sigh. “I think we need to discuss what happens when one of us goes off on mission.”
Steve’s lips pursed, not allowing himself to show the hurt sucking a hole in his chest. That was how it went with Tony Stark. One minute he was snapping about being too public, the next he was chastising Steve for not showing him enough affection.
If he hadn’t been to infuriatingly handsome, Steve might’ve had a chance.
it’s wild to me how there is literally ZERO correlation between what a piece of media is like and what its fanworks are like. 2014 captain america fans were out there writing poetry and full-on academic papers inside of their fics. sonic the hedgehog and my little pony fandoms are both famous for drawing fetishes you’ve never even heard of. les miserables fans spent most of their energy on college aus. there is literally no consistency or observable pattern and it’s incredible
#my theory is that fanworks reflect what people found missing in the canon#so like. sonic and mlp. obviously#les miz want les amis to be happy and alive and goofing around#and uh. mcu fans want the mcu to be well-written (via dicaeopolis)
do you ever read a piece of fanfic that is just so fucking spectacular that makes you actually feel things?
boy, i swear to god, i’m so goddamn grateful for every single one of you writers, yall literally giving us entertainment for free almost every goddamn week; and this is not only for those gracious magnificent bastards that are practically gods because they’ve perfected (and keep developing) their craft, this is also to that little (and equally amazing) writer that is just starting and might not be the best at it, you my friend keep writing because practice makes perfect, don’t stop writing if that’s what makes you happy. i just want all of yall to know that i appreciate you so goddamn much and yall the fucking best
to every fanfic writer out there: i love you, u crazy motherfucker
