That panel of Hades meeting Charon initally had the same energy of that one video of Tony and Ezikiel shouting at each other across a lake.
https://youtu.be/jqFdeC7_0_w?si=LSHMquBDuf2zosl1
(The quality thing for that nypmh panel was def a mobile thing, looks awful on my phone, and is actually legibile on my computer. Hope you had fun at your con!)
i'm glad that's the vibe you got because that's precisely the vibe i was going for LOL
"WHAT'S YOUR NAME"
"WHAT??"
"WHAT IS YOUR NAME"
"CHARON"
"FUCK YOU CHARON"
"WHAT'S YOUR NAME???"
"HADES"
"FUCK YOU HADES"
"FUCK YOU!"
"YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT I DID YESTERDAY"
"YOU BETTER NOT BRING MY MOTHER INTO THIS"
"YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT I DID"
"YOU BETTER NOT"
"I BUILT THAT BOAT OVER THERE-"
"OH"
"-AND THEN I FUCKED YOUR MOTHER IN IT"
"FUCK YOU CHARON"
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“Honey, have you been crying? What is it? What’s wrong?” buck x bucky?
Hello! Do you know you're my very first Anon ask in my inbox? Thrilled to have you!
Anyway, I had fun with this one. Please enjoy this wee Modern Gale/John, with echoes of a past life. I hope you like it, and thanks for being so patient with me :)
“You look just like my friend Buck from Manitowoc.”
The kitchen table was cold, but it barely registered against the chill those dreams left behind
God, John was so damn sick of those dreams. He was so sick of being paralysed by sleep and being force to watch the same reel he’d dreamed of time and time again flicker through his head.
He had no choice but to watch these two men meet over and over again; to watch a friendship roar to life through immediate unbounded affection and unfurling gestures of trust. He watched as smiles helped to alleviate the hardest days of basic training; as quiet moments together gave them a space to sort out their thoughts away from the rest of them; as spirited discussions led to better strategies, better leadership, and endless respect between these two men.
He watched as physical affection grounded the men when they needed it most: arms thrown over shoulders, hands squeezing thighs, gentle chucks to the chin.
“Don’t you die on me before I get over there.”
John had to watch something in Bucky change after that first combat flight.
“I got a nickname for you and it ain’t Buck!”
No. No one was Buck. Why couldn’t he just say that, though? John tried to yell at Bucky as he dreamed - tried to scream at him - just tell him!
“I don’t feel a thing.”
In these strange and awful dreams, John had to watch Bucky lose his men and go out of his way to get himself hurt because it was the only way he could let himself acknowledge the pain without crumbling to dust underneath it.
“We’re gonna get through this. Come on. Don’t you stop believing that.”
John had to watch Bucky package away all his fears, his frustrations, his doubts, and hide it all the way out of Buck’s sight. He’d believe enough for the two of them. He’d get them both out of there if it killed him.
“London. Let’s do it up. Paint the town red.”
“Maybe next time.”
John had to watch Bucky watch Buck dance away with Meatball - so utterly ridiculous and endearing and he feels the grief start to flare to life in his chest. Don’t go. Don’t you goddamn leave him again. Go up with him. Fly with him. Don’t let yourselves go alone!
“Did he have a good game?”
John had to watch Bucky lose Buck all over again, and saw the angry, violent grief wash over this man and drag him down, passed the man he used to be; down in the esteem of his men; and down into enemy territory and the horrors he had to feel and flee and flee again.
Until:
“Do any of you know if Buck made it?”
“John Egan! Your two o’clock!”
John finally got to see Bucky feel the smallest flash of incandescent joy as he realises Buck is alive and he might be able to keep his promise after all. But soon after, when time starts to pass in the Stalag, he has to watch Bucky spiral, and he sees Buck watching and trying to keep the men and himself together so they can keep Bucky together. But it’s like keeping water in a cracked vase. John had to watch Buck witness Bucky lose himself until he was so unrecognisable that he hurt Buck and Buck punched him -
And John had to watch that awful march in the cold and the dark, and see the terror both Buck and Bucky feel when the other stumbles or slows.
And then it’s the night in the village when Bucky sacrifice the only two things that kept him breathing - Buck and his freedom - without a second thought. So long as Buck got out. John had to watch Bucky throw himself at the German with the gun and knock the rifle away because he couldn’t risk a stray bullet.
“Go! Get out of here!”
And when John finally got to see Bucky and Buck reunite, all they get to share is a handshake, which they clutch to like a lifeline, and later a flask. Then he’s watching Buck and Bucky go their separate ways until Bucky is at Buck’s back as he gets married -
“John? You in here, baby?”
John returns to the present, and his eyes latch onto the sleepy posture, messy hair, and concerned gaze of his husband standing in the kitchen doorway. His Gale. Who pads over on bare feet and John feels the heat of his long, strong hands cupping his cheeks.
John always felt overwhelmed by his love whenever he looked at Gale, but tonight he burns with a love, a desperation, that feels more than his own; more than he could fit into one lifetime. And the edges of the dream still toe the boundaries of his consciousness.
“Honey, have you been crying? What is it? What’s wrong?”
John only feels the tears now, as they roll fat and slow down from the corners of his eyes. His nose stings and his throat feels thick.
He whispers brokenly, “Buck…”
Gale’s face crumples as he recognises the name. John only ever calls him that after those dreams. Those awful, heartbreaking dreams of Buck and Bucky, gifted the joy of knowing each other, loving each other, and torn apart time and time again.
Gale grabs handfuls of John and switches places, so he can sit down and gather and tuck John into his lap, until all of him is curled and curved and protected in his embrace.
Buck might not have been able to do this for Bucky, but Gale can do it for John. And be grateful for the privilege.
He places slow, heavy strokes down John’s side as he shakes.
After a time, he mumbles against Gale’s chest, “Do you think they ever got to be happy?”
See, John is convinced they were real, Buck and Bucky. Gale has even offered to look them up, see if he can find some kind of record in the archives. But something about getting that confirmation, seeing the faces of two men that John sees as echoes of them - it's too much. He doesn't want to know.
“I don’t know,” Gale answers truthfully. “But right here, now, we can be happy enough for both of ‘em.”
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