#// no matter how far technology advances people just don’t give enough of a damn to update lifesaving practices if they’re meant for women

[vendettavalor]

// AU where Padmé lives bc Aurelia helped with the delivery of the twins and has extensive experience with delivering far more babies in far worse conditions + basic understanding of pre/intra/postpartum and pre/postnatal care

// Bonus: She, Alfie, and Obi-Wan help keep Padmé safe and allow her to raise her own babies (with help from the canon adoptive parents) while they’re all basically hiding from Anakin and the Empire. Maybe even helps her find someone who’s actually worth her time too-

[wannabe-fic-writer]

All Over Again - Chapter 1

Summary: What was lost can be found. - DC & Marvel AU

Pairings: Lena x Reader ; Implied Natasha x Reader ; Platonic!Avengers x Reader ; Platonic!Superfriends x Reader 

Warning: 18+ Smut, Language, Violence

* * * * * *

Sighing, you splay yourself out on the grass, looking up at the distorted view of the sky as the red leaves of the tree above you sway. The gentle breeze sends a chill over your skin but it’s much too calming for you to move.

“Am I going to have to start carrying jackets around with me again?”

The familiarly sultry voice meets your ears over the sounds of nature. It makes your heart thump faster like it always had but this time an ache accompanies it. Her joking tone holds an underlying nervousness and you have to resist the urge to scoff at the drastic change in your conversations together. 

You could never forget the moment everything shifted. Your entire relationship with Natasha fell to pieces. All the love and trust that had grown stronger each year that you were together seemed to mean nothing to her suddenly.

Months on the run from the U.S. government, planning your futures together, it blew to hell in literal seconds. 

Everything you’d grown to know and love was pulled out from underneath you with three simple words: Hi, Bruce. Followed by the awkward pause and nervous, Nat.

Hope rose in your girlfriend’s eyes and you were unsure why. The main reason being that you were recruited by Fury during the Sokovia incident. You never met the infamous Bruce Banner turn Hulk, and didn't know about his history with your girl. And Natasha hadn’t found it necessary to tell you about it either.

Which left you in the dark and completely blindsided by Natasha’s decision to end things with you. Simply telling you she owed it to herself to see where things with Bruce went. And you being the person you are and loving Natasha the way that you do, you wanted her to be happy despite your heartbreak. 

All of that rested on your shoulders at the same time that Thanos appeared. Your broken heart seemed to shatter further when you lost your best friend Wanda and the many friends you’d gained. 

For five years you hurt. Grieving your lost friends and dealing with your broken heart. It seemed as though Natasha breaking up with you wasn’t even worth it as Banner left after Thanos and they didn’t see each other for five years.

Even after the five years though, you still were coping with your heartbreak despite the Avengers having gotten rid of Thanos for good. As you then had the privilege of seeing Natasha and Bruce together. And you could admit that they look good together, happy. 

Which means you need to find your own. You just aren’t sure how. 

You take a deep breath and look up at the redhead who’s watched you in your silence.“ I hadn’t planned on staying out here long so I didn’t grab one.” You respond, deciding to ignore her not so subtle hint at your relationship and personal quirk. 

Jackets are just the last thing you think about before you leave out and Natasha used to take it upon herself to bring one for you whenever you were with her. 

She smiles tightly and nods,“ okay. Well I was just coming to let you know that Steve and Bucky are almost done with dinner.”

When you nod in answer Natasha waits, silently debating if she wanted to say anything else or not, but chose not to and finally walked away. You waited a few extra minutes before pushing yourself up and heading toward the compound.

As you’re walking up to the door, your red leather clad friend lands beside you, her magic vanishing from her hands before she flings her arms around you. 

“Hello to you too.” You chuckle, hugging her back. 

Wanda smiles brightly,“ hi.” 

A small smile of your own hitting your lips. You’d missed the young woman as she was away on a mission with Sam. They weren’t far, just on the East Coast, but they’d been gone for a week, which was more than enough for you to begin to miss her.

Before either of you step into the building, she grabs your hand and laces your fingers together, gently tugging you off to the side. Soft light green eyes stare back sympathetically,“ how are you?” 

“Wan-” you sigh, running a hand up and through your hair.

“I’m just worried about you.” A little pout hits her lips followed by a joking smile,“ and I’m kind of the only reason you’re sane.”  

You throw your head back with a laugh. Then shaking your head and wrapping an arm around her shoulders,“ I’m fine Wanda. Thank you for the concern and sanity.”

Placing a quick kiss to her temple, you guide her into the building, more than happy to have your best friend back.

Like Natasha had told you, Steve and Bucky already have the table set and everyone is sitting around. No matter how hard you try, your gaze finds Bruce and Natasha, the man leans over to say something to her and a cute smile rises, reminding you of the one you’d caused her to have before. 

A squeeze of your hand pulls your eyes away and you nod to Wanda before sitting down beside her. Usual chatter circles the table, Sam and Wanda talking a bit about the mission briefly, and then asking all of you about what’s been going on. 

By the end of dinner you’re a mix of annoyed and happy. Your friends had made you laugh and smile just like usual, except every time you got lost in the joy of it all you forgot what was across from you and your gaze caught the image of Natasha and Bruce flirting, laughing, and smiling. It makes you so upset that you still wish it were you with her.

It’s been six years! What happens to time heals all wounds? Was that just a load of shit? Would you genuinely have to deal with being all bitter and jealous for the rest of your life.

“Welp,” you smack your hands to your thighs,“ Steve, Buck, dinner was incredible, thank you, but I have a few things I need to attend to so if you’ll excuse me.” Standing, you grab your plate and glass. 

“Not so fast Y/Ln,” his voice rings clear not but a second after you walked away.“ You’re all here for once so I’d like to inform you that you’ll all be attending the Stark Industries Investment dinner tomorrow night.” Tony smiles, eyes crinkling in the corners.

Your eyes narrow,“ what exactly would the Avengers be doing for your companies investors.”

“Persuading, encouraging, indulging. Investors would kill to hear mission stories and about all your equipment.” His tone is sweet, as if he’s trying to convince you all to come.

A party/dinner isn’t exactly what you’re feeling up to right now. And quite frankly it’s not necessary for every Avenger to show up.

From the looks of Steve’s face he isn’t going but you still have a bit of hope that is, until he speaks up,“ Bucky and I have a mission.”

Tony gives an expectant gaze to the rest of you.

“I’m always down to party.” Sam shrugs nonchalantly before returning to his food, pretty sure this is his third plate.

Bruce sighs,“ I’m under the impression that this isn’t an option for me.” 

Tony’s grimace is answer enough, but he still says,“ it is not. Also, no offense, probably don’t show up all big and green. The venue is large but-”

“Ah ah ah I got it.” The big green man waves his hand, then smiling down at Natasha,“ mind accompanying me?” She instantly smiles and nods and that small little gesture is enough for you to head out. 

Further, Tony goes,“ Maximoff?” 

And Wanda responds,“ I’ll only go if Y/n does.”

Dammit Wanda!

Turning on your heel, you have every intention of saying no. Only to find her giving you that damn pout, followed by her whispering,“ please.”

“Alright whatever.” 

With that you leave, cleaning your dishes, and then going straight to bed. In the morning you take extra care to avoid Natasha, you eat while she’s in the gym, only going to train after she’s long gone, and eating lunch on the roof with Wanda. 

You make it as far as into the venue for the Investment dinner before you have to see her again. Even then you wish you were blind. 

God she’s beautiful. It’s criminal the way that dress fits on her. And just as your eyes trail up her long legs and over the curves of her body to her piercing green eyes, her looking back at you pulls you to reality. 

You no longer have the right to look at her that way. No matter how good she looks, you can’t look at her like that. No, the man beside her is the only person who carries that privilege. 

“I’m gonna need a drink to get through this.” You sigh, beeligning for the bar instead of your seat. 

Wanda sticks close to you, definitely having seen your staring. 

Leaning against the bar, you wait for the bartender to come your way, then asking for an old-fashioned and you wait. Beside you, Wanda’s eyes flicker over the room, a nervousness in them. 

“Hey,” you nudge her arm with your elbow,“ I’d say it’s not that bad but it is.” The young woman’s eyebrows raise but you wave it off,“ you just have to put up with most people speaking to you like you know less because you make less. Other than that it’s alright.”

As she takes in your words, you accept your drink from the bartender and hand Wanda a flute of champagne. She’s not a drinker but the little boost is needed. 

With a reassuring smile to her and the last swig of your drink and guide her through the scattered crowd to Pepper. The blonde is more than happy to walk Wanda around, introducing her to a few people while you make rounds on your own. 

Just like usual, most conversations revolve around everyone else’s business, or the occasional question about your work that you can’t even discuss. But you manage to do as Tony asked, impressing them with talks of your abilities and that of which you can disclose. 

Majority of the people you talk to take a liking to you, or at least the superhero you, and you convince them to invest in Stark Industries, giving the whole “a company that leads in medical and technological advancements” spiel. 

“Still hate these things huh.”

Breathing in deeply, you exhale and turn to face Natasha. Her green eyes watch you cautiously and you’re in genuine disbelief that the badass Black Widow is so wary of you. Since the breakup she’s interacted with you as if she’s afraid you’ll hurt her.

You lick your lips,“ Natasha you speak to me like you don’t know me anymore.”

A sigh falls from her lips and she looks down at the bracelet on her wrist,“ I know. I’m sorry I just- I don’t want to say anything I shouldn’t.”

“Right,” you scoff lowly.“ You don’t have to worry about my feelings anymore I promise.”

“Y/n I-”

“Nat.” Bruce approaches, completely oblivious to the awkward tension flowing between you and his girlfriend.“ I’m sorry, do you mind if I steal her away for a moment.”

You smile bitterly,“ oh she is all yours.”

Green eyes look at you with an unreadable emotion but you brush it off, walking away with a glance back that reveals Bruce twirling the redhead on to the dance floor. 

You square your shoulders with a deep inhale and head back to the one place that you’ve been able to breathe tonight. 

“Another old fashioned please.” The lady nods and quickly makes the drink and you smile in thanks.

Taking a long swig from the dark liquor, you sigh contentedly at the burning trail down your throat. Your few seconds of peace interrupted by a deep voice speaking cockily. 

“A beautiful girl like yourself drinking dark liquor leads me to believe you’re not enjoying yourself.” The man smiles brightly showing off his, no doubt surgically whitened, teeth.“ Perhaps I could change that for you.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you pointedly down the rest of the drink, and tap the bartop in call for another.“ Bold of you to assume that I’m not having a good time.”

Before he can reply with his planned flirtatious remark, a lightly accented soft voice joins in,“ I’m sure Mister Richards meant no harm, he’s just a rather presumptuous man.” Her statement has you turning back to see who it came from.

Your eyes meeting the most gorgeous woman you’d ever seen. A sentiment you didn’t think you’d ever make after Natasha. 

Her black hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, not a single strand falling loose. Beautiful light green eyes stare back accompanied by a red lipped white tooth smile. 

In your daze of taking in her appearance you miss what she says to Mister Richards, but it sends him away, leaving the two of you alone. 

“Um, forgive me for this, no doubt, repetitive question but, what company are you here representing?” Your eyes subconsciously trail down the line of her jaw and it’s incredibly hard to draw your attention away when she speaks.

“Luthor Corp.” Her lips turn up into an almost knowing smile and it has you quickly looking up into her eyes, heart pounding when you realize you’d been caught staring at her lips.“ I’m Lena Luthor.”

Clearing your throat, you hold your hand out to her,“ Y/n.” You expected a warm hand but while it’s soft, it’s fairly cold.“ Thanks for the save Miss Luthor.” Your hand returns to your glass, the chill of it like that of her hand. 

“It was nothing, I could tell from across the bar he’d said something you didn’t like.” She makes mention.

You grimace, a soft chuckle falling after,“ you’ll have to forgive me, controlling my expression isn’t a mastered craft as of yet.”

She waves you off, casually leaning her side against the bar as her drink is sat down,“ it takes years, I’m still working on it. Come to enough of these and you’ll get it.”

“Oh I’ve been to plenty,” her eyebrow quivers at that,“ I’ve just never been good at. . .lying. No offense to you in any way, I think you’re ability to deal with all this social-”

“Bullshit.” She finishes for you with a chuckle.

Nodding, you laugh as well,“ yeah that. It’s a true superpower Miss Luthor, and of my many, that is not one.”

“Superpower is a stretch.”

Your eyes narrow at her, a small smirk on your lips,“ something tells me it isn’t.” 

Throughout your continued conversation, her charm and genuine goodness radiates off of her. The woman listens intently to you speak, she makes you laugh, and indulges all your questions with zealous passion. 

As the night goes on neither of you find much entertainment outside of your little space at the bar. Not wanting to go home inebriated, you’d long since switched your liquor for plain club sodas, Lena suggesting the addition of cherry grenadine just for flavor. 

“The idea is brilliant, which I’m sure you know, I just think it has more potential than power storage. What if you used it as a power core instead.” You shrug simply. 

Lena’s hand halts in movement, the drink in her cup sloshing slightly as the action,“ that’s genius. But it wouldn’t be easy. I’ve toyed with alien energy before, it’s much more powerful than expected.”

“Which, I think, makes it all the more useful. Depending on how strong, you could power an entire village or a small town. Imagine giving small pieces of the core to third world countries.” 

An amused smile tugs at her lips for the nth time tonight,“ is your first thought always to help others or is that just the Avenger in you?” 

You chuckle,“ myself and the hero. I just don’t see why we wouldn’t use the knowledge and resources we obtain, alien and human, to help those who truly need it.”

Lena’s mouth opens in preparation for her next reply, however it doesn’t come as a body weakly collides with yours. Wide eyed you look over to see your best friend, obviously drunk, leaning on you.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You have to try the strawberry cake thingies.” Wanda tugs at your arm in a childlike manner. 

Frowning in Lena’s direction, the CEO shrugs. Gentle grabbing Wanda’s shoulders, you turn her to face you,“ what strawberry cake?” 

She smiles,“ the ones on the tray Y/n. The servers are walking around with- oO right here.” Fast as lightning, her hand shoots out and she grabs a small plate off the servers tray. Three little white chocolate truffles sit on it with milk chocolate drizzled over.“ Try.”

“O-” your reply cuts when she shoves a piece in your mouth. As good as it is, your eyes widen for an entirely different reason. Your tongue runs over your bottom lip as if to ensure you’re tasting what you’re tasting.“ Wan, how many of these have you eaten?”

Her hand raises to show three of her fingers.

Yep. The small woman ate nine strawberry champagne truffles. She’s drunk.

Lena, wanting to understand, retrieves one of the truffles and bites into. Her response is the same as yours. 

With an apologetic smile you look at her,“ I hate to cut the conversation short but I should probably get her home.”

“Of course of course. Hopefully we’ll be able to continue sometime.” She smiles sweetly and you nod.

After a short wave to her, you gather yours and Wanda’s things, and leave the building. 

“Y/n!” 

You freeze in step, tightening your hold on Wanda’s waist and pushing your free hand into your pocket, then turning to the source of the voice. 

Pepper takes the stairs quickly but with all the grace of a trained performer. She stops on the same step as you and smiles a little.“ I had to catch you before you left, Lena Luthor wanted me to give you this, and let you know that she’s expecting you at Luthor Corp soon.”

A slight frown pulls your eyebrows closer together as you stare down at the business card, her personal number scrawled on the back,“ did she say why?” Pepper simply shakes her head.

Truthfully she hadn’t been expecting Lena to approach her about you. Mainly because she had no idea the two of you met, she swore she’d introduced you to every investor there tonight. 

“Okay, how soon is soon?”

An apprehensive smile tugs at her lips, brows raised slightly,“ four days.”

[little-mad]

Downsides of Thievery Pt. 1

~ Next Part ~

“Maybe stealing from an interdimensional diplomat wasn’t my greatest idea,” Gavin thought to himself from his current position in a jail cell.

He’d been hesitant about the job right away. Stealing from humans was one thing, but stealing from alteons was on a whole new level. However, the payment the client had offered Gavin had been too tantalizing to refuse. Who knew it was bad to be greedy?

“Shit,” he grumbled under his breath. How was he supposed to know the diplomat would have some weird magical artifact thing that could detect and identify trespassers? That was just unfair. Gavin was a good thief, so good that he’d managed to make a career out of it. If he had been caught due to his own ineptitude maybe he wouldn’t be so peeved. But this was just a matter of not having enough information. Thus making it unfair.

Prison was something every criminal feared, but it was also something every criminal prepared for in some sense. If Gavin was headed for prison, he might not be so worried. Sure it would suck, but at least he felt sure his undeniable charms would make him friends in no time. But Gavin wasn’t headed for prison--no, he was being extradited to the alteon dimension.

Gavin shivered at the thought. Despite having stolen from one, he had never actually seen an alteon in person. Pictures and videos could only do so much, at least that’s what people said. Apparently the true gravity of an alteon’s massive size couldn’t be understood until you saw one in real life.

Not only would Gavin quite literally be put in the hands of an alteon, but he would also be getting taken to a completely different dimension that only a few very important humans had ever visited before. Maybe he should’ve felt special.

Were the circumstances different, Gavin might’ve even felt excited for the adventure. His work had taken him all over the world, it would be thrilling to get to see a whole new one. However, he had a feeling he wouldn’t exactly be getting the grand tour.

It was at that moment that Gavin began to hear footsteps approaching his cell. A few moments later, two business-suit clad federal agents appeared. Gavin scrambled to his feet and took several unconscious steps towards the back wall. The key jangling in one of the agents’ hands told him exactly what time it was.

“Your ride is here,” the female agent announced, a slight smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

Gavin scowled.

The key carrying agent swiftly unlocked the door and beckoned for Gavin to exit the cell. “Come on, we don’t have all day,” he stated impatiently.

“Aren’t you going to cuff me or something?” Gavin questioned, taking note of the fact that neither agent had brought handcuffs with them.

The woman’s smirk grew but she remained silent. “The alteon won’t need cuffs to restrain you,” the man responded.

Gavin instantly felt the pit of fear in his stomach grow. Horrible images of himself trapped in gigantic hands were invading his mind. Being given over to the alteons meant that his civil rights would be essentially irrelevant. Unless alteons had laws protecting humans, which he doubted, then they could do pretty much whatever they wanted with him. Gavin swallowed hard.

“A-actually, I’m okay staying here…” he stammered. God, he hated how pathetic he sounded. Gavin’s line of work required a lot of guts, and while a healthy dose of caution was always good, he had never considered himself to be cowardly in any sense of the word. But now...well now he felt like the biggest fraidy cat in the whole world.

The male agent gave Gavin what almost seemed like a sympathetic look. “Sorry, but that’s not an option,” he said, once again making a beckoning motion with his hand.

“Dad was right. I should’ve become a doctor,” Gavin thought miserably to himself as he very reluctantly exited his cell.

The trip up from the cell block to the roof of the building pretty much felt like a march to death. Federal employees stared unabashedly at the man practically being sacrificed to giants. Some wore looks of pity, while others had smug expressions on their faces, as if to say “serves him right.” Were Gavin in a better mood he probably would have scowled at the nosy jerks, or at least stuck his tongue out at them. But as things were, he was in no mood.

~

Rael sighed as he shifted his feet impatiently. It didn’t elude him that every human in the vicinity stiffened at his movement. He refrained from rolling his eyes. It was irritating how the humans constantly acted so skittish all the time, as if he would suddenly go on some sort of rampage.

“Why did they have to give me this assignment?” Rael mentally groaned.

Unlike many of the members of the Imperial Guard, he hadn’t joined with some idiotic fantasy of glorious duels and honorable battlescars. Rael joined because he knew it was the easiest way to elevate his station. Plus standing guard at the palace was easy work that he was perfectly content with. That’s why he had been less than pleased when he'd been informed he would have to venture to the human dimension to retrieve some human criminal.

Prior to today, Rael had only seen a human once, it had been from a distance and only for a second as they were being escorted into the palace. Therefore, he’d had no personal reason to dislike humans. It was just that from everything he had heard about them, they sounded so...annoying. And so far, his experiences with them today had proven that to be fairly accurate.

Rael suppressed a sigh as he glanced around. Thankfully the building he’d been told to go to was at the edge of a human city, meaning he wouldn’t have to put up with civilians gawking at him. The federal agents gathered on the roof in front of him were bad enough.

The stories about how giant being in the human realm would make you feel rang true. Rael felt positively colossal next to people who looked to be barely taller than his fingers. Not to mention the building he was standing beside, which appeared to be three stories, reached no higher than his knees. “Humans are lucky our imperialistic urges died a century ago,” Rael thought. Taking over the human realm would no doubt be a piece of cake, even with their supposed technological advancements.

“Sir!” Rael’s attention was caught by the shout of one of the humans standing on the roof below. He looked down to see the speaker was the woman who appeared to be in charge. “We apologize for the wait, the prisoner is being brought up now,” she announced. It was almost amusing, the way they had to yell for their tiny voices to even be perceived by him.

“Good,” Rael responded simply, electing not to mention the fact that the prisoner should’ve been ready and waiting for him when he arrived.

After a few minutes, Rael caught sight of the door on the roof entrance swing open. Three humans stepped out. The two dressed similarly to all the other federal agents practically had to drag the third one out. It was difficult for Rael to see from so far away, but the odd one out appeared to be a young man. He had light skin, a crop of messy brown hair, and appeared to be quite slim.

Rael raised a single eyebrow. “This is the prisoner?” he questioned as he eyed the man. He didn’t look like much, which was applicable to pretty much all humans, but Rael found it hard to believe that this one could’ve successfully stolen from an alteon.

“Yes, sir!” replied the woman in charge. “His name is Gavin Stone, he’s believed to be associated with many high profile robberies,” she explained.

Rael spared the human called “Gavin Stone” one last look before giving a shrug and reaching for the miniature iron cage attached to his belt.

The cage, which had been especially made for this occasion, was quite simple in its construction. The thing didn’t even have a lock because the latch to open the door was too big for a human’s miniscule hands to manage. It would do perfectly for keeping the criminal contained throughout the duration of the trip back to the palace.

The moment Gavin had laid eyes on the alteon, his body had practically separated from his mind. Physically, he was moving forward with the guidance of his two escorts, but his mind was still struggling to process the impossibly large person looming above him.

If the alteon’s size wasn’t strange enough, the guy looked like he’d stepped right out of a Renaissance Fair or something. His skin was a soft brown color, and he had long black hair that was tied into a loose ponytail behind him. His eyes were a striking teal color that stood out against his angular features. As for his clothing, he looked to be wearing what appeared to be some kind of light leather armor over top of a forest green tunic. Oh yeah, and then there was the fact that he had pointy elf ears.

Gavin had known the alteon dimension was almost medieval in nature, and he’d known the alteons had pointy ears, but it was still so damn bizarre to see in person.

As Gavin was in the middle of gaping, the giant began to move. He flinched at the action, and he noticed everyone else on the rooftop tense up as well. Clearly nobody was comfortable around this--this thing! “How can they hand me over to that?!”

It wasn’t until he had been practically shoved to the edge of the roof that Gavin’s brain caught up with what his body had been doing. Frantically he looked around him. All of the agents, including his former escorts, had backed away from the edge of the building closest to the alteon. This left Gavin stranded, with a giant man a mere few feet away.

With a hard gulp, Gavin tilted his head back to look up at the creature who was about to snatch him away. Those teal eyes were glancing down at him, and in his hand was a cage the perfect size for holding a stupid human who really should’ve just become a damn doctor.

[spencers-renaissance]

Foolishly, Completely Falling

Summary: Spencer declines to spend the night with Luke, but there's a reason for that, and things start to click into place when Spencer shows back up at his doorstep at 2am, hours after being dropped home.

Tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, past toxic relationship, nightmares, est/dev relationship

Pairing: Luke x Spencer

Word count: 2.5k

Read on AO3

When Luke asks Spencer if he wants to stay the night for the first time, he isn’t as quick to agree like Luke expects. The TV is playing a game show on low volume and they’re lying comfortably together on the sofa, quietly enjoying one another’s company after a busy day. They’d had a lovely evening out at the Mexican restaurant Luke had managed to convince Spencer to try before a cuddle and far too much making out on the sofa, so he’s feeling pretty good when he whispers the question into his boyfriend’s ear. Instead of the excited agreement he expects, though -- after all, the first night in the same bed with a new partner is always exhilarating -- Spencer freezes. 

“Hey,” Luke says, tone quickly sobering up. He shifts a little to get a better look at his boyfriend’s face, worried he’d said the wrong thing. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, baby. We can just cuddle a little longer and then I’ll drive you home, yeah? Whatever you want.”

The kind voice he uses seems to slowly shake Spencer out of his frozen trance, gradually pulling himself up from the quicksand of his thoughts to respond to Luke. “No, I want to,” he explains slowly, thankful Luke is so patient when he tries to articulate complicated feelings. “There’s just… it’s because-- I don’t know how to tell you.” He sighs in defeat as he fails to tell his boyfriend how he feels, slumping down a little as he relaxes his previously stiffened muscles, collapsing into the warmth and safety of Luke’s chest. 

“You don’t have to justify it, Spencer,” Luke says earnestly, running his hands up and down Spencer’s arms gently as his face contorts with worry, a small sense of relief coming from the feeling of his boyfriend physically relaxing under his touch. He can’t help but feel a sinking pit of fear in his stomach that maybe he’s made a massive misstep, maybe Spencer isn’t as into this as he is, maybe there’s something really, really wrong.

Instead of voicing his concerns, though, he simply revels in the moment: Spencer’s head on his chest, his body flush against his own as their breathing syncs and they take in the last few moments of peace before the world switches back on and they have to part ways. 

If only he could stop his tumbling mind and enjoy it properly. 

★

Spencer seems mostly recovered from the awkward moment by the time they clamber into Luke’s car to drive him back home. He’s barely switched the engine on before Spencer is telling him about the technology of contactless keys and how they were invented, the dangers they present to society as well as the vulnerability they have to hacking before going on a tangent about a factory in Ireland that accidentally discovered a serious technological advancement. He’s chattering away happily in the passenger seat, and the tension Luke still holds in his shoulders dissipates as he listens to him ramble about things he cares about. 

It’s hard to focus on the road, really, when Spencer chooses to be so utterly adorable. He can’t keep his eyes off him when he’s passionately lecturing somebody about something everyone else finds insignificant or confusing and he finds endlessly fascinating. The team makes fun of him constantly for the way he stares at his boyfriend, and he’s not overly fond of the new nickname ‘moon eyes’ that he can’t seem to shake, but it won’t stop him from appreciating Spencer’s knowledge, making sure he knows Luke supports him no matter what. He knows that he gets shut down far too often, that people appreciate him for his intellect only when it’s valuable to him, and he’ll be damned if he ever makes him feel that way. 

He listens dutifully the whole drive back to Spencer’s apartment, managing to drive safely despite the distraction, and he can’t suppress the laugh at the surprised look colouring Spencer’s face once he sees they’ve arrived. He goes into a little bubble when he’s info-dumping, only coming out of it when there’s a significant change in his environment, but Luke can’t stop the fondness from spreading through his body as if it’s the first time he’s ever seen Spencer make that face. 

“We’re here,” Spencer observes, a slightly sheepish look spreading across his features. 

Luke absolutely cannot accept that so he leans across the console to press a deep and loving kiss to his lips, startling Spencer out of his embarrassment as he kisses back with just as much vigour. “You want me to walk you up?” Luke asks as he pulls away, bringing a hand to Spencer’s face to gently brush a few curls off his forehead.

“I’m good,” Spencer smiles, looking adoringly at Luke. If he was a more acrimonious man he’d be annoyed that everyone misses the matching looks Spencer sends his way, but there’s something special about them being just for him, like there’s a little bit of him he gets to keep just for himself. He’ll take that over Spencer getting teased even more any day. 

“Okay, baby.” He leans in to give him another kiss, quickly this time, before leaning up to peck his forehead, too. “You sleep well. If we’re not called in tomorrow I’ll swing by and we can do something together, how does that sound?”

“Perfect,” Spencer says softly. He puts his hand on top of Luke’s and caresses his knuckles gently, and for a second Luke is convinced he’s about to say something but he decides against it, settling on a soft smile before he’s clumsily climbing out of the car and walking towards the elevator into the building. 

The shy wave Spencer gives him just as the elevator doors close is enough to keep his heart warm through winter. 

★

Luke heads straight to bed as soon as he gets back home, switching off all the lights and getting ready in the bathroom before slipping between the sheets. It’s barely 11 but he’s exhausted from a busy day at work followed by the date he’d had with Spencer and he can feel the exhaustion tugging at his limbs. He’d hoped that he would be cuddled against a warm body tonight, and Spencer’s absence makes the bed feel so cold, even with Roxy warming his feet. 

Eventually, he manages to slip off to sleep, though, because he’s woken up not long after by Roxy leaping off the bed and whining at his bedroom door, startling him awake. “Roxy?” he asks, immediately on high alert. “What’s wrong, girl?” He sleepily pushes the covers off him, exposing himself to the frigid air of his apartment as he contemplates reaching for his gun when he hears it. There’s a tentative knock at the door, probably not the first, far too quiet to have woken him up if he hadn’t had Roxy. He jumps into action and pulls a t-shirt on as he walks to his front door, flicking on the lights as he goes, not wanting to trip over anything in the dark. 

It’s Spencer. He’s standing there looking nothing short of distraught as he wrings his hands nervously in front of him, that sheepish, embarrassed look Luke had been so desperate to kiss away earlier returned in full force. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, looking close to tears. “I just, I didn’t know where to go… usually I go to JJ’s but Henry and Michael are staying with Penelope tonight so she and Will could have a proper date night again and I didn’t want to interrupt but I didn’t want to be alone so I thought that maybe… maybe it would be okay if I came to see you, but I’m sorry if--”

“Hey,” Luke gently intercepts Spencer’s rambling with a careful hand on his waist and a step closer. “Why don’t you come in?”

It’s a bit of a shock to see his boyfriend on his doorstep only hours after he’d dropped him off, especially since he’s clearly in quite a state, a very different Spencer to the one who had kissed him deeply and waved him goodbye earlier in the evening, but Luke doesn’t want to do another thing until Spencer is happy again, feeling safe and comforted. He’s going to try damn hard to do that for him. 

“I’m sorry, Luke,” he apologises again, voice tight and anxious, eyes glassy as he follows him inside and hesitantly sits next to him on the sofa. “I should have asked before turning up here and I’m sure I woke you up. God, I’m such an idiot sometimes, I should just--”

“Spencer,” Luke says, voice a little louder to cut over Spencer’s panicked word vomit. “You are always welcome here. No matter what, okay? You don’t have to be afraid to come here, ever. I’m your boyfriend, I want to take care of you.”

“Really?” he asks, looking almost floored at Luke’s words.

“Really.” Luke promises, reaching over to gently wipe a spilled tear from Spencer’s cheekbone. “If I was upset, wouldn’t you feel the same way.”

Spencer’s eyes widen in understanding as he nods vigorously, causing Luke to smile fondly.

 “Now. What’s going on, baby? Did something happen?”

“Um,” Spencer hesitates, simultaneously not knowing how to properly voice his feelings and afraid of how Luke might react to them. Luckily, Luke knows how to be patient with Spencer, waiting quietly as he traces patterns on his forearm. “You know how earlier I said I did want to stay here but I couldn’t?”

Luke hums. “I do, yes.”

“Well, it’s because I was scared.”

Luke’s finger pauses for a short second in surprise before continuing its path, trying to convey his non-judgement. “What of, sweetheart?” he asks, praying that he wasn’t about to say him. 

“The last time I shared a bed with someone, he wasn’t nice to me,” Spencer confesses, looking into Luke’s eyes briefly, long enough only for Luke to pick up on the intense vulnerability swimming in his pupils. “I get… really bad nightmares. And my ex, the one I told you about, George?” He waits for Luke’s acknowledging nod before continuing. “He got… angry. I disturbed his sleep and he yelled a lot before breaking up with me.”

Luke nods slowly, finally understanding the situation. “And you were afraid that the same thing would happen with me?” he asks gently, not judging Spencer for his fear at all and hoping he can see that in his eyes. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, looking down at his twiddling fingers for a long moment before finally looking back at Luke, tears gathering in his eyes again. “I’m sorry, I should have trusted you.” 

“Oh, Spencer,” he soothes calmly, gathering him up into a hug and carding his fingers through Spencer’s curls in just the way he knows he likes. “You can’t control a fear like that. It’s a natural reaction to be afraid of repeating a previous experience, especially if that event was upsetting or traumatic.”

“I know,” he mutters miserably, face wedged close into Luke’s neck. “I’m still sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he says. “Is that what made you come over tonight? You had a nightmare?” He feels Spencer nod and his heart breaks. His boyfriend has been silently suffering through these awful nightmares alone, all because some asshole had broken up with him for something he couldn’t control. “I’m sorry, Spence. Do you want to talk about it?”

Spencer shakes his head, as he pulls his face away from Luke’s neck. “I’ve tried that but it doesn’t work,” he frowns. “It just makes me relive it and the anxiety gets worse. It’s better if I just try and acknowledge them before moving past them.”

“Whatever works for you, baby,” Luke says. “Now, how about we get you changed into some pajamas again and you can come and stay with me tonight. I just want to be here for you, Spencer, comfort you if you have a nightmare, hold you even if you don’t. Nothing will happen if you do have one, alright? Except you being able to avoid travelling across town at 2am to seek some comfort, because I’ll be right next to you, cuddles at the ready.”

“You promise?” Spencer asks hopefully, finally seeming to relax a little. 

“I swear on my life,” Luke grins, before pressing a chaste kiss to Spencer’s lips and standing up. “Come on, let’s get ready for bed.” 

Spencer’s wearing a soft t-shirt already but Luke demands he change into one of his own, claiming he wants him to be as comfortable as possible, but they both know he just can’t get enough of Spencer in his own clothes. It feels like an extra layer of protection Luke can wrap around him, keep him safe and warm in his clothing, protect him from anything formidable, including his own mind. “It smells of you,” he smiles approvingly as soon as it’s settled over his shoulders, too loose for his smaller frame. 

“Well, baby, you’re gonna love cuddling with me in my bed then,” Luke winks. “I’m not sure anywhere else could possibly smell more like me.” He switches off the lights in the house and calls Roxy back to bed, before slipping underneath the duvet, which is much more pleasurable this time, Spencer curled up against his side as Luke wraps a comforting arm around his waist. 

He savours Spencer’s satisfied sigh as he curls up tighter, pressing as close to Luke as possible; his clingy nature is one of the things he loves most about him. There’s nothing Spencer likes more than climbing into Luke’s lap or laying across him on the sofa, holding his hand in public or pressing himself as close as possible until Luke gets the hint and wraps an arm around his waist. He loves being held, which works out well because Luke isn’t sure he likes anything more than holding him, drinking in the comfort that comes from the closeness, the inexplicable feeling that is being Spencer Reid’s boyfriend.  

“Thank you, Luke,” Spencer whispers, voice clearly showing how drained and tired he is, but he sounds relaxed and comfortable, and that’s what matters most.

“Anytime, baby,” he whispers back, smile playing over his lips as it always seems to do when he’s around Spencer. “You sleep now. You’re safe, I’ll be here.” 

“I know.” Spencer’s whisper is even quieter this time as his breaths even out and his muscles relax slightly, and Luke has never envied his boyfriend’s eidetic memory more. If he could bottle this exact moment -- Spencer slowly falling asleep on him, trusting him enough to stay no matter what happens, the warmth and comfort of the embrace -- he’d never stop playing it over, a personal paradise just for the two of them recorded in his mind forever. 

Just having this moment, though, having this memory all for himself, will do Luke just fine. 

@gxenbev

[rachetmath]

What would it be like if rwbyjnor met the dutch, revy and rock

I don't understand the specifics of this request so I'll do this in the best way I can. This going to be long so be ready.

Rwby x Black lagoon

Black Lagoon crosses to Remnant:

Revy and Dutch along with team RWBY, Ren and Nora are fight a bunch of Beowolves while Jaune and Rock are fighting side by side with mostly Jaune doing most of the work while Rock provides a view tips and assisting mostly with what he can find.

Revy: So, let me get this straight you fight shit heads freaks of nature like these like every single day?

Ruby: Yep.

Dutch: And all of you have a very specific weapon that you customize yourselves to be it a blade and firearm?

Ren: Precisely.

Benny: And you have unnatural and natural resources like dust and with highly advanced technology?

Weiss: Yes.

Dutch: And you can use all that as well as this thing called aura along with a semblance?

Nora: Yeah, semblances are like a superpower.

Revy: How super?

Yang: Universal.

Revy: Well-

Revy looks to see Ruby turn her weapon from a sniper rifle to a scythe.

Revy: Dutch, can we stay here?

Dutch: HELL NO!!! Look, I hate to say this, but I much prefer seeing crazy psychos, and bullets fly than this horror fest. Plus, I may not be father but ya'll parents let you do this every day, they are very stupid and irresponsible.

Yang: Hey we're trained for this. Well except one.

Revy: Yeah that guy with Rock over there. He is doing fine but I can tell he's not all your levels. How did even survive let only get into your school?

Ruby: That we don't know or bother asking as long he works.

Revy: Well I can say that it's stupid but I still I wonder how he got in.

*Jaune and Rock side*

Rock: So, let’s get this straight. Your father never bothered to train you and no combat school was willing to accept you, so your best method was to cheat?

Jaune: Yeah, I know, I'm a complete fool.

Rock: I mean if you were willing to work hard to get there despite the risk, I say, you sir have my respect.

Jaune: But I am an idiot, I mean, I lost the only girl you who believed in me.

Rock: Jaune, let me give you a piece of advice. Get over yourself! If you still have even just one friend in this crazy messed up world then you're okay. Trust me, I know a little on how you feel. I mean look me compared to the others, do I look like I'm a mercenary?

Jaune: Why do hang out with them anyways?

Rock: Like you with your friends, mines, I guess appreciate my abilities. Look let's talk about this another time and try to survive this freak show.

Jaune: Deal.

RWBY and JNRO crosses to Black Lagoons:

Team RWBY and JNPR are fighting a mafia group along with Revy and Dutch. Ruby armed with a handgun, an old scythe and sniper with a bayonet, Weiss with a rapier and little knifes, Blake with a handgun and a katana, Yang with a shotgun and iron brazed knuckles, Jaune with an military armed shield, sword and rifle(Dutch taught him how to use it. Surprised it took him a week.) Nora with a grenade launcher, Ren dual wielding pistols and knives and Oscar with a pipe.

Revy: Holy crap, you brats are good even without your powers or usual weapons.

Ruby: We adapt.

Nora: Seriously, you guys do stuff like this every day?

Dutch: For the right price, yes. But yeah, you kids on a natural.

Yang: By the way, thanks for teaching Jaune how to use a gun.

Dutch: Thank Rock for making him listen, he said he wouldn't last long if he didn't. But in all seriously the guy learns quick, I mean, it took him a week to learn how you use that rifle.

Ren: A week! We need to start teaching him and make sure he brings one more often.

Nora: Might makes things easier from here on.

Jaune: Can all of stop talking and focus! We'll talk when we're done. Oscar, hurry up.

Oscar: Oh, I'm sorry but fighting with a pipe is hard!

Jaune: Why didn't you bring a sword!

Oscar: I will not kill!

After a crazy battle, the group along with Rock and Benny celebrated their victory at the bar. While the girls, as well as Ren and Oscar was living it up with Revy, Benny and Dutch, at the front bar Jaune and Rock were talking after Rock told him a stories about how his employers sold him out, the hell he endured in his stay Roanaper, Yukio, and his old client Garcia.

{Rock's side}

Jaune: Damn.

Rock: Yeah.

Jaune: Well, you did what you had to.

Rock: But I didn't have to. I should've walk away and not attached. I'm supposed to be the good guy, Jaune. But this city, I feel like it's eating me alive. All these mafia bosses, war criminals and shit... it's all just getting to me. You know.

Jaune: Yeah, I understand, but what are going to do about it? you made the choice to stay and you got live with it. I mean, hearing all the crap you've done, I somewhat envy you.

Rock: What do you mean?

Jaune: When Chang said pull out, you went in. Every time something bad happens you try to be the good guy and make things better. True it fails at times and from the look of this city, you'll have no choice but to throw righteousness away to survive.  But in my opinion, you still at least stand as the hero of the story.

Rock: *laugh* How so!? Come on tell me, how can I, a piece of under burying shit can possible still be a hero to you. The worthless knight, who can barely fight and couldn't save his partner!?

Jaune: Exactly. Most people survive based on luck.  You on the other hand survived not just on what you know but what learn in return. The world's a crazy place, and most of time you don't know where you'll end up. However, you still have control of what you do next. Your still able to keep people alive. You still do your job. You still try to be nice and maintain some level of morality even if it may never be enough or get you killed. So, trust me when I say this, you have done all what you could. Hell, I barely can do anything.

Rock: Shut up. When it comes down to it your friends are as crazy and trigger happy as Revy. They need somebody like you who can keep them alive. Just keep trying to do right by them and for yourself. Trust me, you can talk down to yourself all you want. But it doesn't change the fact that your alive, you made mistakes and you change. Promise you won't go down how I did, because believe me once you go too far in the darkness you may never come back from it. Or at least not be the same person you were before.  

Jaune: Yeah. Plus, that Revy woman, I think you can trust her to help you back up or shoot you down when you have gone too far.

Rock: Really? How come?

Jaune: She talks about you all the time when she's drunk. She saves you even when you deserve to die for being stupid. And finally, she hasn't killed you yet despite the many times you've pissed her off.

Rock: Speaking of women, which one of those lovely ladies is your girlfriend?

Jaune: Funny I was about ask you the same between Revy and the blonde, named, Eda.

Rock: *laughing* To the C.M.F.?

Jaune:  To the C.M.F *Shared a toast with Rock and started drinking*

{Revy Side}

Ruby: So, Revy?

Revy: What is it little red?

Ruby: Are you and Rock dating?

Revy: *cracks glass cup while blushing* W-w-WHAT!? NO!! Of course not. Why the hell would you ask that?

Nora: You look at him a lot.

Blake: You talk to him the most.

Yang: An unlike most, you call him your partner.

Revy: Well yeah cause he's useful. That’s all. Nothing special.

Weiss: Really, cause when you got drunk last time, we asked you about him, you got an attitude and started talking crazy.

Revy: Oh.

Yang: So how-

Revy: We started off at the wrong foot and we're just making up as we go.

Yang: Well that's great and-

Revy: Can't say the same thing for you guys and your friend Jaune, though.

Nora: Pardon?

Revy: I'm just saying, don't think you know everything about your friend, hell I don't think he cares about any of you.

Blake: *angry glare* What makes you say that?

Revy: Well let’s be clear here. Jaune was loser with dreams, he was willing to make those dreams a reality, no matter the price he didn't know he'll have to pay. And guess what, the debt was do and it caused Pyrrha her life.

Yang: Maybe so but-

Revy: And before you all start giving him praise for what he accomplished, let me ask you something. How did he feel afterwards? I mean, losing the only person to ever provide with some sort of love and respect, a family that never believed in once in his life, I say the kid must been a loser for a long time. And if him and his Sapphron were the only two to ever bother to leave the nest, then that proves that the rest of his siblings are just good for nothing nobodies who scared of the world, or just found more meaning in their lives without having to leave the comfort of their home. Face it, like Rock, your friend got something to prove and he's willing to do whatever it takes to prove himself to everyone. Even if it causes him his life and his humanity.

Ruby: No. No, we won't-

Revy: And what are you people going to do? Hold his hand? Give him those morally great speeches of yours? Pathetic. Just like your friend Pyrrha who died a meaningless death for worthless, foolish old man, who could barely do the job he's was given by god himself.

RWBYN: *angry at Revy comment but grows to accept it*

Ren was about to start threatening however Dutch stops him by reestablishing that one shot can turn the bar into a war zone and showing Ren that Revy always has her trigger finger ready. So, Ren does nothing.

Revy: Face it, you guys aren't capable of saving him. But what do I know, I'm no hero nor do I want to be? The only guy I seem to care about is changing and I don't know how he's going to turn out. To think that I might have to shoot him down someday. But fuck it, that’s just of missed up every world is.

Dutch: Wow Revy you changed.

Revy: What?

Benny: You act less bitchy than you were before and now you’re a little more open with others. Rock must have touched your heart.

Revy: Shut up, Benny. *looking red all over her face*

Everyone laughs at her embarrassment.

Revy: Oh, shut the fuck up you cunts! Hm. Anyways which one you are dating that knight in shining armor anyways since you're all worried about him?

Nora: I already got a boyfriend.

Revy: You mean twinkle toes right there. Mr. Emmo.

Nora: You must want to fight.

Revy: Anyone?

RWBY: Nope.

Revy: *makes a call*

Eda: Hey bitch, what do want?

Revy: Hey Eda do you like blondes? Because I got an average looking-

Eda barges in with her short green skirt and pink top shirt on. She looks at Revy, knowing what she wants, Revy points to Jaune with Rock and Eda makes her. She walks with hips swaying from side to side and sit between Rock and Jaune.

Rock: *surprised* Eda, what are doing here? When you did you get here?

Eda: Oh, Rock honey, I’m just taking advantage of my opportunities. *Sees Jaune staring in amazement. She smiles* Say, I heard rumors about you and your blonde friend right here and was wondering if you two would have some-

Revy and Weiss both break their glasses and make their way over.

Revy and Weiss: STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM YOU CUNT!!!

Revy surprised how Weiss and she were in complete sink and while she smug, Weiss was embarrassed.

Revy: Oh, so you like him like that.

Weiss: *grabs Jaune by the arm and pulls him away* EVERYONE! WE ARE LEAVING!

Jaune: But Weiss I finally found someone I can talk!

Weiss: YOU’LL PLENTY OF PEOPLE TO TALK TO ONCE WE GET HOME!!

Jaune: But Weiss- damn it, later Rock. See you someday.

Rock: God speed brother and remember everything I told you.

Jaune: You as well and good luck.

A bright light was opened and just like that the kids disappeared. Back to their universe. Revy and Rock were smiling but Rock, remembering what Jaune said about trust, ask Revy

Rock: Revy?

Revy: What up, partner?

Rock: Let’s say, I things took too far and made an enemy of someone who would want me killed. Will you be there to kill me instead? Even if you were paid to do so, will be there to stop me?

Revy: *smiles but then covers Rocks eyes so he never sees it* Of course. I got you into this, so you’re my responsibility. Partner.

Rock: *smiles* Thanks.

[wkemeup]

Guiding Light (5)

summary: It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by Hydra and now, Bucky can’t breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 7.9k warnings: torture, angst™, a fluffy flashback bc it’s seriously needed 🖤series masterlist // series playlist

O N E  M O N T H  L A T E R

Bucky was covered in sweat. Blood dripped from the gash on his forehead and an awful pain in his left thigh from where a knife was currently embedded into the muscle. He let out a guttural shout, shoving the Hydra agent back several feet and straight through the wall, leaving a gaping hole in the foundation as particles of dust and drywall clouded around him.

The agent groaned, turning onto his stomach and attempted to crawl away, hands scrambling on the concrete, but Bucky was too quick, stalking over him with a quick yank to the knife buried in his leg and tossed it across the room. He reached down and grabbed a tight grip of the man’s collar, heaving the agent to his feet, then higher still as he held him off the ground. The man’s feet kicked at the air.

“Where is she?!”

“I don’t know what you’re—"

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” Bucky howled, shaking the agent as his hands grasped at Bucky’s left wrist, nails scratching over metal plates. Bucky slammed the agent against what was left of the wall. “Tell me where she is or I’ll end your pathetic little li-”

“Bucky!” Steve shouted as he emerged through the hole in the wall, holstering his weapon.

Bucky shot Steve a glare, turning back to the agent and pressing the grip of his hand around the man’s neck, watching as he started to turn red. It was satisfying to watch him squirm.

Steve groaned, half-jogging towards Bucky until he stood over his shoulder.

“Buck, stop it,” Steve demanded, voice stern though he didn’t make a move to force Bucky to stand down. “We need him for information. You kill him and he’s useless to us.”

“He’s pretty useless right now,” Bucky countered, pressing harder on the agent’s windpipe.

“We don’t know that for sure,” Steve warned, cautious eyes glancing over his friend. “We’ll bring him back with us and interrogate him. He might know something, even if he doesn’t realize it.”

Bucky growled, eyes narrowing on the man as his skin began to turn a light shade of blue, lips gasping for breath, eyes bulging, and then, Bucky released his grip. The agent fell to the floor, coughing and retching as he struggled to find air. Bucky rolled his eyes in disgust, stepping away just as Sam rushed in to restrain the agent on the floor.

As Bucky made his way through the hole in the wall, blood dripping from the open wound in his thigh, Steve put his hand on his shoulder, a soft touch though it brought Bucky to a cold stop.

“I don’t like what this is doing to you, Buck.”

Bucky shook his head, the flattened expression seemingly permanent on his features. “I left this one alive for you, Steve. That should be good enough.”

Without bothering to wait for the speech Steve usually gave at the end of every raid about how Bucky was coming dangerously close to winter soldier territory and how he should take a break from missions for a few days, Bucky pushed his way out of the room and towards the quinjet. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d sit out another mission, not until they brought you home. He didn’t care if he fell right back into the cold, dark shell he barely existed in in the years before you came into his life. He'd put himself through the chair before he gave up on you. Consequences be damned.

The ride back to the compound was filled with the same uncomfortable silence it usually carried. With Steve attending to the pilot’s seat and Sam guarding the Hydra agent they had taken prisoner, Natasha swung her legs around the seat ahead of Bucky, eyeing him carefully as he kept his stare hardened on the flicker of the altitude light on the dashboard.

He could feel her eyes on him, studying him, and he curled his hands around the arm rests.

“Steve’s got a point, you know,” Nat said, leaning her right shoulder against the backrest of the seat. “Don’t think Y/n would like what all this is doing to you, either.”

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Y/n is being held captive by the people who tore me apart from the inside out. She knows what they could do to her and she'd want me to do whatever the hell it took to bring her home.”

Nat sighed, gaze dropping for a moment as her eyes flickered over to your empty seat, the one next to Bucky. “She wouldn’t want you to lose yourself in the process, James.”

She was right. Bucky knew as much. From his first mission back in the field following the clearance from his therapist and Dr. Cho, he’d been different; more aggressive, too quick to shoot on sight, a cold hollowness in his chest with every base they raided only to come up empty. 

He was a far cry from the man you knew. The one who smiled often and teased you about the pillow crease marks on your cheeks in the morning and learned how to make banana bread just because he overheard you mention just once in passing how much you loved it. He lost his quick-witted jokes with Sam and flinched away from Steve’s touch. You’d be disappointed in him for closing up so easily without you around.

Bucky clenched his jaw, turning back to Natasha. “Yeah, well Y/n isn’t here, is she?”

Nat stared back at him, firm features on her face, though a sadness lingered being her eyes. She nodded carefully because there was nothing left to say and turned back around in her seat. Bucky felt no relief.

Hours later as the team debarked the jet, Tony was waiting at the edge of the hanger, arms crossed over his chest and a desolate look upon his face. Bucky could already fell the tightness in his chest, knowing exactly what that look meant.

“We got another tape,” Tony said flatly. Steve and Sam exchanged a worried glance and Bucky could feel the entire team’s eyes on him, searching for a reaction they wouldn’t find. He was too numb for that now. Tony gestured for everyone to follow him back into the compound.

“How many does this put us at, Tony?” Steve asked as they made their way to the living room on the eleventh floor.

“Five,” Bucky replied, interjecting before Tony could answer. Sam cursed under his breath.

Since the first video was played on live television, different news networks across the country had started to receive a new tape once a week.

The second time you appeared on the television, looking worse than the first with the infection on your cheek spreading in angry red veins down your face, and dark purple bruising under your eye, Bucky had been out on a run.

He’d returned to find the entire team gathered around the television in the living room. Nat’s hand pressed over her mouth. Steve pacing back and forth as he stole quick glances at the screen. Sam gritting his teeth, arms crossed over his chest. Tony sitting on the very edge of the couch, hands clasped, head dropped.

You’d been forced deliver some bullshit line about how Hydra was the real hero of the attack in D.C. and how SHIELD was an enemy of the people. You looked like you had taken a fresh beating before that recording and Bucky knew you had tried to resist reading those cue cards, but Hydra has an exceptional way of making even the strongest of wills cave. He was familiar with it himself and he was thankful you did, if it spared you even an ounce of pain.

Tony was somehow able to get a hold of the third video before it aired and he did everything in his power to keep the news network from releasing it. It was shock value, ratings, just to have your face on their screen, broken and beaten, reciting from cue cards with a voice so raspy Bucky could barely stand hearing it without tears welling behind his eyes. You swayed in the seat as you spoke, barely able to keep yourself upright. This time, Hydra had you talk about their technological advancements, how they were surpassing SHIELD in strategy and resources. Steve was taking notes.

The media started to speculate after that; throwing around commentary aimlessly about whether you were a traitor to the state or if you had been a double agent all this time. They had debates about if resources should be spent to find you at all, given the state of your appearance and the apparent ‘obvious’ fact that you’d given Hydra information on US defense programs. Bucky had nearly thrown an entire chair at the TV when he heard that. Even daytime talk shows and late-night hosts were talking about it, giving their two cents as if their opinion mattered.

The fourth video had been the worst. They didn’t bother with cue cards, or with strapping you to a chair. Instead, the entire three minute and forty-six second video was just a man in a black mask beating you. You were too weak, your muscles too deteriorated and brain too foggy to fight back. Blood splattered onto the camera lens when the final hit took you down, knocking you out cold.

Sam nearly lost his mind, calling down to the network himself for them to cut the feed to the damn video, questioning how they could even air something as graphic and violent as that. It always came back to the same answer: ratings.

The man in the mask, the same voice Bucky recognized from the first video, had said that this was a punishment for you as he held your unconscious body up for the camera to see. For what, Bucky didn’t know. He supposed it didn’t matter. He had gripped the edge of the counter so tight it broke into pieces in his hands.

Forty-five days you’ve been held captive by Hydra by the time the fifth video came in. Forty-five days.

Bucky knew exactly the kinds of horrors you would face. He knew they would beat you and starve you and torture you until you lost your will to live. He didn’t dare let himself imagine you like he had once been; crying and begging, so fucking afraid and cringing from every touch because pain was all he came to know. He didn’t want to imagine you as anything other than the impossibly sweet, bubbly, endearing woman that pulled him from the cold edge of darkness, the woman he came to love.

“This aired while you guys were somewhere over the Atlantic,” Tony said, turning the TV on and setting up the recorded segment. This time, a man sat behind the anchor’s desk, dark brown hair coiffed away from his face and a navy-blue suit. He was scribing with a pen as he spoke, keeping his hands busy.

“--received yet another recorded tape from members of the terrorist group known as Hydra,” the man stated as an image of your face appeared on the screen beside him. It was a still from the previous video, blood covering your face. Bucky cringed.

“This time, the tape had been left at our studio headquarters in Los Angeles. The random drop offs seem to be the culprit's main tactic in evading the police who have attempted to apprehend whoever is behind these recording.”

The anchor sighed. “Please be advised that what you are about to see may be graphic and difficult to watch.”

The warning that always proceeded these videos.

They didn’t have to show this. They didn’t have to put your pain and torture on display for millions to witness, but they did anyway. For what? Ratings? They were feeding into what Hydra wanted. To create fear and distrust amongst the people, to see their hero beaten and broken while the Avengers did nothing to save her.

Bucky felt sick.

The screen switched to the same dark room they usually filmed these videos in and sure enough, there you were, gazing at the camera under heavy lids, purple bruises and features gaunt. Bucky gripped at the edge of the couch as he leaned against it for support, dropping his head for only a second to catch his breath. Steve’s hand rested on his shoulder and Bucky took as much strength as his friend was offering and faced the television again.

You swallowed, eyes glazing over as you struggled to read from the cards. There was a clench in your jaw, a sniffle, and Bucky realized suddenly you were trying to keep yourself from crying. You glanced over at someone behind the camera, pleading, begging, and you closed your eyes shut at whatever his response was. A tear slipped down the side of your face. Defeated. 

Bucky bit down so hard on his cheek he tasted blood.

“Bucky,” you choked out and his stomach plummeted, all eyes in the room turning to him, “they know you’ll-- you’ll be watching this and they have a message for you.”

You let out a shaky breath, hands curling against the arm rest, finger nails long been ripped from you, red angry skin in its place. Licking at your lips you shook your head subtly, so carefully that Bucky almost missed it, like you were trying to send him a sign beyond what your captors would notice. A tear passed over the dried blood caked on your cheek.

“This is—this is because of you.”

Then, your restraints were released and you were being thrown from the chair, body slammed against the wall with such force you let out a pained cried as you struggled to grab onto the arm holding you in place. A tall figure, muscular build, with that same black mask covering his face he wore in every video thus far, wrapped his hand around your neck.

Bucky clenched his hands, arms trembling, helpless, because there was nothing he could do. This had already happened. You’d already been beaten, already uttered his name in that helpless cry, all while he was completely unaware. It was only a recording. He couldn’t save you from what had already happened. 

The man pulled you towards him, only to slam you against the wall again. When your face turned blue, he tossed your body carelessly across the room. You heaved through raspy breaths, desperate to find air and you tried to crawl away. The fear in your eyes was enough to break Bucky in two.

Then, the screen turned black.

“What the hell!” Bucky shouted, rushing towards the television, searching for the power button only to find it did nothing as he pressed it. He whipped around to face Stark. “What did you do!?”

“You don’t need to see that,” Tony replied calmly and Bucky nearly released a feral growl as he attempted to charge at Stark before Steve came up behind him and held him back.

Tony stood his head. “There’s nothing else in that video beside that asshole beating Y/n unconscious. Again. They’re doing it to torture you, Barnes.”

“So, let them!” Bucky shouted, struggling against Steve’s grip. He slammed Steve’s back against the television, though it did nothing to release his grip.

“I’ve seen the whole thing,” Tony snapped, shouting over the struggle between the super soldiers. “It’s ugly and I know for a fact Y/n wouldn’t want you to watch it. Its only purpose is to mess with you, don’t you get that? You saw how hard she was fighting even having to read that damn card! We all know you’d only use it as fuel to punish yourself again and again for her being where she is and I’m sick of it! Y/n would be pissed as hell that you’ve been so willing to jump right back into Winter Soldier mode at the first excuse you got!”

“Watch it, Tony!” Steve warned and Bucky threw himself from Steve’s hold.

To everyone’s surprise, even as Tony activated the extension of his suit on his hand from the pieces in his watch, as Sam and Nat readied themselves for a fight, Bucky remained completely still. Chest panting, hands clenching into painful grips at his side. A lull came over and everyone relaxed. Everyone but Bucky.

“What’s happening to Y/n is not your fault, Barnes,” Tony pressed and Bucky kept his gaze focused on the floorboards. “We all know that you did everything you could to save her that day. But Y/n is strong. Her body may be weak right now but her mind isn’t. She’s strong and she’ll survive this. Just... don’t be a different person when she gets back.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, looking up to Tony who was disarming the iron man armor on his hand. Tony was never someone Bucky expected to get along with, not after the history they shared, and he was okay with that. So, for Tony Stark, the man who Bucky deprived of his parents, to show him concern, to some him even some level of compassion, was too much.

He turned on his heels and left the room, disregarding his name as it was called.

***

“Let me talk to him.”

Forty-seven days since you’d been taken and Bucky stood outside of the interrogation room in the sub-ground level of the compound. Behind the thick layer of the one-way mirror, Bucky observed the agent he nearly beat to death in the abandoned Hydra base in Germany sitting smugly at the center of the room. The agent that now had an identity after FRIDAY was able to run facial recognition.

His name was Cal Jennings, a mid-level agent with a Hydra security clearance high enough to know more than what he said. Dried blood caked on his upper lip from where Natasha had broken his nose on day one of her interrogation. He wasn’t the same fearful mess he had been when Bucky had his hands on him. It was a front, a ploy, to lure Bucky into killing another one of their agents before they could be interrogated for information.

Jennings sat alone, arms tied behind his back, as he stared at the mirror. If Bucky didn’t know this was a one-way mirror, he would have thought Jennings was looking right at him.

“You know I can’t allow that, Buck,” Steve replied to his request as he turned away from the window to face his friend. “He knows something and--”

“That’s exactly why you need to send me in, Steve,” Bucky countered, growing desperate. “I can get it out of him. You know I can.” Steve hesitated, clearly thinking and Bucky continued, “If he knows anything about where Y/n is... Please, Stevie.”

Steve sighed, his shoulders slumping and he gave a slow nod.

Before Steve could change his mind, Bucky pushed his way out the door and into the hallway. The fluorescents were brighter out there, enough that he had to squint to avoid the harsh influx of light to his eyes. A few more steps and he was at the door. Right hand reached out and touched the cold metal of the knob, unclicking the locks until it swung open.

Jennings didn’t so much as turn in Bucky’s direction as he stepped into the room. The door slammed shut behind him.

Bucky studied Jennings, searching for weaknesses he’d been trained to locate in his Hydra days; fresh wounds to exploit, the slight dip of a bone broken years ago he could re-snap, the flicker of eyes to a vulnerable position. Jennings gave him nothing, kept his stare straight ahead on the mirror, admiring his own reflection, but Hydra had trained Bucky well. He would find something to make Jennings talk. He always did.

“I’m only going to ask this once,” Bucky grumbled, pacing around the room in slow, calculated steps, “where is she?”

Jennings chuckled and it made Bucky’s blood boil. “I thought I was... what did you say... ‘useless?’”

“An act,” Bucky spat, circling around the back of Jennings’ chair. “You wanted me to kill you so you wouldn’t have to sit where you are now. You knew what you would face if we brought you in alive and you cowered away.”

Jennings smirked, meeting Bucky’s eye in the mirror. “You think very highly of yourself, Soldat.”

Bucky flinched at the name, a chill sweeping through his spine. Jennings pursed his lips, taking note of the curl of Bucky’s hand at it clenched into a fist.

“Tell me, Soldat,” Jennings taunted, “does your whore know everything about your past with us? Does she know how many you’ve killed? How many civilians have been caught in the crossfire? Does she know how much you enjoyed it?”

He paused, snickering as he glared over at Bucky with a kind of disgust and amusement all mixed in one, eager to watch the former soldier fall apart at the mere mention of your name. Jennings smirked.

“Does your girl know she’s fucking a monster?”

A growl ripped through Bucky’s chest and his left hand was suddenly wrapped around Jennings’ throat. Pressing hard against his vocal cords, Jennings still managed to chuckle through the gasps of air.

It didn’t matter that he’d never touched you like that, that he’d never had the chance to so much as tell you how he felt, let alone show you in such a way. The very idea of this man talking about you like that, the clear picture in his head as his licked his lips even with Bucky’s hand wrapped tight around his neck, drew a burning rage from somewhere dark, deep within Bucky’s chest.

A hand slammed against the one-way mirror from the observation room; Steve’s warning to back off. Bucky released Jennings with a grunt.

Heavy coughs and a snicker under his breath, Jennings only seemed to grin wider at Bucky’s reaction. “Touchy...”

“Where is she?” Bucky demanded, voice low, even, and restraining the rage festering under the surface.

“Who?”

“You know the fuck who, asshole.”

“Oh,” Jennings feigned realization. A short shrug of his shoulders and then, “Agent Y/l/n?”

Bucky took in a breath that was hot in his lungs. He folded the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, exposing the cold metal of his left forward. Jennings laughed to himself.

“I remember her. Liked the way that stealth suit of hers clung to her ass,” Jennings jeered, shooting Bucky a watchful stare from the reflection of the mirror, waiting for him to break. Bucky clenched his jaw, curling his hands back into fists to keep them off of the man’s face.

“Enough,” Bucky spat. “Where is she?”

"You know, I see why you’re upset, Soldat. You know exactly what we will do to her because you’ve experienced it yourself,” Jennings said, too calmly, too arrogantly to stir up anything but a paralyzing dread in Bucky’s stomach. “You know that we’ll ruin her. You know we’ll rip her apart from the inside out. We’ll break her down so she becomes something so unrecognizable you’d wish we had killed her!”

Jennings yanked on his bindings, almost feral, and Bucky suddenly couldn’t move.

“She’s been beaten and tortured and mutilated just like you were!” Jennings continued with a malice in his voice Bucky had only heard in his decades under Hydra’s hold. “You won’t find her in time. You won’t save her. She’ll die in that cell the way you were supposed to! You’re never going to see her again!”

It was too much, the blood boiling in his veins, the pulsing in his head blinding his vision, and Bucky could hardly feel the ground beneath his feet. Jennings watched him from the mirror as Bucky stood in the back corner of the room, eyes on the floor, struggling to get ahold of himself and Jennings began to laugh, a sick kind of sound that only seemed to worsen the trembling in his hands.

“Tell me where she is!” Bucky yelled out, punching his fist against the wall enough to break off fragments of the concrete wall behind his knuckles. Jennings shrugged, unaffected.

“Why would I do that?” he sneered, a vicious grin curling up his thin lips. “It’s so fun to see the infamous Winter Soldier, the man who has killed presidents and taken out entire governments single handedly, reduced to a lovesick, pathetic little man over some cheap, worthless whor--”

Bucky’s fist collided with the side Jennings’ face, enough for blood to splatter from the sick curve of his grin to the pavement below. But he didn’t let up. No, he swung again, this time with the hard metal of his left fist and Jennings’ chair, bolted to the ground, lifted from the hinges and crashed to the floor on its side. Bucky couldn’t hear Steve as he pounded on the glass, warning him, not as he threw punch after punch into Jennings’ side, his face, his gut, as he grabbed a hold of Jennings’ leg and twisted until something popped and Jennings let out a scream.

Steve and Sam barreled into the room, arms snaking around Bucky to hull him off, blood dripping off of his knuckles as he shook Sam off easily, shoving Steve back against the mirror causing it to crack. Bucky charged back to the ground, grabbing a firm grip of Jennings’ collar, forcing him to meet his eye, even under layers of blood on his face and the swelling already forming over his features.

“I won’t ask again!” Bucky roared, fist held high, ready to strike, “Where is she?!”

Steve and Sam froze behind Bucky as Jennings began to snicker, blood sleeping out from behind his lips, pooling over his chin. He spat a thick glob of it to the floor, teeth red as he jeered up at Bucky.

“You will never find her, Soldat,” Jennings slurred through the blood pooled in his mouth. “Your final punishment is what we will do to her and she will never be the same.”

Bucky dropped his grip, stumbling back and Jennings collapsed to the ground. Sam rushed forward, hulling Jennings’ chair back on its legs and pressed his fingers to Jennings’ pulse. A sigh of relief as he looked back at Steve, a nod, and Bucky nearly fell to the ground. Steve’s strong arms snaked under Bucky’s and yanked him to his feet before his knees could buckle under him.

“You got this?” Steve asked Sam, nodding at Jennings whose chin was draped to his chest, knocked out cold.

“Yeah I can handle this piece of shit,” Sam grumbled back, resting his hands on his hips. He glanced back at Buck as he hung in Steve’s grip. “Get him out of here.”

Bucky allowed Steve to assist him out of the room, just long enough to regain strength in his legs, and he waved him off carefully, giving him an appreciative nod. Steve didn’t say anything, but he walked Bucky the entire way to the elevator. For good reason, Bucky assumed. He would have tried to sneak back into the interrogation room for another shot at Jennings if he thought Steve wouldn’t be able to stop him.

“You’re not thinking straight, Buck,” Steve said as they approached the elevator. He pressed the single button and it illuminated under his touch.

“Never really could without her,” Bucky shrugged.

“That’s not true. You’ve done so well and, sure, Y/n has been a huge help in your recovery and you’ve only gotten better since you guys have been, um... close,” Steve said awkwardly, scratching at the back of his head, “but, you can still be you without her. You’re strong enough for that.”

“What if I don’t want to be?” Bucky sighed dejectedly.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened, though Bucky didn’t move. He stared at the small scratches on the metal shine of the wall, tiny imperfections. An ache sat and festered in Bucky’s chest, like a boulder holding weight on his lungs, only able to alleviate when you were beside him.

“Please, don’t say that,” Steve exhaled sadly. “We all know what she means to you and I know this is killing you but... you’ll survive this, Buck. We’ll bring her home, you hear me?”

“It’s just, I...” Bucky let out a heavy breath, turning to his oldest friend as his clenched his jaw, trying to stop the lump building in his throat, “I love her, Steve, and... and I’m-- I’m afraid it’s the reason they’re doing this to her.”

The doors began to close and Steve stuck his hand out to hold them against the frame. Bucky stepped inside, pressing his lips into a thin line. It was the most he could manage. Steve only stared at him, trying to find the right words to say even if there were none. The doors tried to close again but Steve kept them open.

“We’ll bring her home, Buck,” he said again, though the hesitancy in his voice betrayed him.

“Okay,” Bucky sighed, unable to tear his eyes away from the ground. He wasn’t sure if he believed that anymore. 

The doors rang out and attempted to close a third time and Steve let his hand fall away, stepping back into the hall. There was nothing left to say.

***

Bucky didn’t know how he ended up at the door to your room, but there he was. It was quiet on the floor. With Steve and Sam still in the sub-level interrogating Jennings and Natasha spending most of her time training, the private quarters were largely unoccupied. You shared a floor with Bucky, Sam, and Wanda, though Wanda has been off in Wakanda for the last few months working with Shuri and Vision on controlling her abilities.

Bucky wondered if Stark had assigned him to this floor on purpose, with his room just a few feet away from yours. He could have thrown Bucky into a floor all his own, secluded, away from everyone else, just because he could, as some frankly reasonable punishment for what he did to Stark’s parents, though, he must have figured Bucky would have preferred that. And yet, being so close to you, running into you every morning felt almost like fate.

Slowly, he twisted the knob to your door, cool under his touch, and stepped inside. The window was open, curtains flowing softly with the breeze as it swept through the room. Chills ran up Bucky’s spine and he crossed the room to close the window. As he turned around, he spotted your workout clothes from that morning still tossed over the edge of your bed, sneakers kicked off by the bathroom, and the hanger your stealth suit lying on the floor by the door.

It was untouched, like you were never gone, like it hadn’t been forty-seven days since he last saw you.

Bucky swallowed back the bile in his throat, glancing down at his right hand as he sat on the edge of your bed. His knuckles were covered in blood, red angry marks and broken skin upon his fist.

He closed his eyes and tried to bring himself back to the first time you had helped clean the wounds on his skin. Dr. Cho was busy tending to Steve’s injuries, with Sam closely next in line, and Bucky only had superficial cuts, ones he insisted would heal overnight, but you wouldn’t accept that.

You dragged him up to your room, demanded he sit on your bed, and you grabbed the first aid kit from your nightstand. He couldn’t quite tell if you were angry or just determined with that thin little crease forming on your forehead as you worked bringing a twist to his stomach. You didn’t say a word as you disinfected the open wounds on his hand or when he hissed at the alcohol on his skin. You didn’t warn him to be careful next time because you knew it would happen again. It was his job, after all.

Soft, careful touches as you wrapped his hand in gauze, offering him a sweet smile as you told him he was good as new like you actually believed that. It was one of the memories he held onto tightest. Just the ease with which you touched him, like he wasn’t made of broken fragments, like he was something whole. It was the first time he considered that you might be right.

Bucky stood and rounded the corner of your bed, pulling out the drawer of your nightstand. Sitting on top, just as he remembered, was the first aid kit. He pulled it from the drawer and set it on the bed, popping open the lid and grabbing the supplies he would need. He did his best to clean the mess on his hand, all the while knowing that you’d have done a better job because you always handled him with the kind of care he never gave himself.

After his hand was wrapped and the sting of the alcohol was fresh on his skin, he moved to set the kit back into the drawer when something caught his attention.

Carefully, he slipped his left hand into the drawer and pulled out a single polaroid. It took him a moment to recognize where it was from, but the moment he did, the memory came flooding back.

-

Bucky always liked running; the feel of the air sweeping through his hair, the burn in his lungs, the sore ache of his legs. It let him focus on something other than the thoughts rummaging in his mind. It gave him an opportunity to just... be.

You were on his left, a slight pant in your breath, and Bucky was cautious to take note of when it sounded like you were struggling to hold the pace for his sake and he’d slow down enough that you wouldn’t notice and your breaths came in a little easier. Then, he’d speed up when he thought you were ready again.

Seven miles around the property; the path twisting through the back field where the recruits did their field training, behind the lake, and through a section of the forest which helped to seclude the compound. It was a beautiful view, if Bucky was being honest. Upstate New York in the fall just as the leaves were turning colors, some crunching under his sneakers as he ran. The air was crisp in his lungs, cool on his skin.

It had been a while since he felt so relaxed. You had a habit of bringing that out in him. It had become part of his routine, getting up in the morning and throwing on shorts and a crew neck, tying his sneakers at the kitchen table as he waited for you to emerge from your room; that genuine look of surprise that always seemed to morph into something like relief as you spotted him.

Even after he warmed up a little, letting himself find his voice around you and reluctantly agreeing to follow you into the middle of Brooklyn, he still found himself incredibly nervous. It was foreign for him to feel such a way, like a heat could form in his cheeks if you asked him the right question and the sweat that lined in his right hand as you stood close to him without thinking much of it.

You were starting to breath too hard beside him, face burning red and sweat dripping down from your hairline, and Bucky slowly pulled to a stop. There was only a half mile back to the main building from here, and he figured you could use a cool down to stretch your muscles anyway.

You paused, leaning over and resting your hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath. You stole a quick glance up at Bucky, who was only watching you carefully. His heartrate was hardly elevated, hair dry and hanging by his shoulders, breaths even.

“You’re insufferable. You know that?” you teased with a growing smile, wiping your forearm across your hairline and shaking the excess sweat out into the grass. “Why even bother coming on these runs with me if they clearly do nothing for you?”

“I never said they did nothing for me,” Bucky replied softly, eyes squinting from the sun as he looked back up at the compound.

These runs may not challenge him physically, but they still had purpose. It got him out of his room and dressed in the morning. It got him using his body again for something other than destruction and survival. It got him pumping the blood back into his veins and out into the fresh air, something Steve had been trying to accomplish with him unsuccessfully in the month before he met you. It got him more time with you.

These runs were something Bucky looked forward to. It had been a while since he had something like that.

You narrowed your eyes on him, a purse of your lips as you studied him for a tell you wouldn’t find. A short laugh as you shook your head and exhaled, “ok fine! Run at a mortal's pace then, super soldier.”

Bucky chuckled under his breath as you started to walk back along the path, watching as you shot him a teasing smirk over your shoulder and he jogged a few paces to catch up to you. He always felt better by your side, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it.

It was a slow walk up to the back entrance, with you stretching your arms behind you until they cracked, pulling a wince out of Bucky you found to be rather hilarious. You complained about your sore muscles and teased Bucky about his unfair advantage, all while tossing him those smiles that made his stomach weak.

He pushed a few steps ahead to grab the door for you as you walked back inside, giving him a casual salute as you passed by, causing him to chuckle softly.

“So, what are your plans this morning?” you asked off-handedly, like you genuinely believed he might have something on his schedule other than secluding himself to his room. You grabbed a water bottle from the kitchen and tossed one to him over the counter. He caught it easily in his left hand.

“Super busy,” Bucky shrugged as he twisted off the cap. “Thought I’d head back into the city and walk around for a while. Maybe see if Sam wanted to meet me at one of those coffee joints with cats hanging around and buy a novelty shirt from Times Square.”

“Wow, Buck, that’s--” you started, a little taken back and surprised at his answer. Though, when Bucky tried to suppress a laugh as he took a swig from the water bottle, you pouted, putting your hands on your hips. “You’re not going to the city.”

“No, I’m not,” Bucky confirmed with a slight shake in his head. “I’m a little shocked you thought I’d go anywhere with birdbrain, let alone back into the city.”

“Oh, it’s not entirely unrealistic! You had a good time when we went to Brooklyn last month, didn’t you?”

Bucky nodded, “yeah, but I was with you, wasn’t I? Different situation entirely.”

“Is it?” you asked curiously, the teasing nature absent from your voice and Bucky realized the implications of what he said. You were watching him too carefully, with a hopefulness behind your eyes that caught Bucky entirely off guard.

“Oh, well, I meant that, um,” Bucky stumbled over his words, his throat suddenly feeling dry, “I just... I don’t know... I’m more comfortable around you. I guess.”

Your lips slowly curved into the widest smile Bucky had ever seen, which was a feat within itself knowing you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, think so,” Bucky replied with a nervous laugh and you punched the air like you had just crossed the finish line of a marathon. The anxiety faded away as he watched you grin at him, like you had been hoping for this all along. He let himself laugh.

“Good! Well that means you’re free then,” you quipped, rushing from behind the counter and grabbing a hold of the wrist on his left hand, like it wasn’t made of metal, like it wasn’t something lethal, and tugged him towards your room. “Come on! I’ve got something I wanna show you.”

Bucky couldn’t help the smile pressing up on his cheeks as he followed you down the hall, your delicate fingers still wrapped around metal. He found himself fixated on it, so perplexed how you could touch this piece of him so casually, like it wasn’t something to fear, something to be disgusted by.

You pushed open the door to your room and shoved him teasingly to sit on the flood at the end of your bed. He watched as you raced around the room, grabbing a few books off the shelves and your laptop from the desk. You took a seat next to him, folding your legs under you and your shoulder brushed his.

“Prepare to get educated, Barnes.”

You showed him a few of the books he recognized from the trip to Brooklyn, ones you purchased after you had insisted he catch up on what he had missed. After careful consideration, you placed two of the five books on his lap, explaining the synopses and instructed him to pick one. He had just finished To Kill a Mockingbird, his first choice on the list you gave him. Of the two you laid out for him, he chose Fahrenheit 451. You, of course, got a kick out of that because it was Steve’s favorite on the list you had provided when you first met him as well.

Bucky couldn’t help the pang of jealousy at the thought of anyone else sharing these kinds of moments with you, curled up one the floor by your bed, rustling through old books, as you typed away on your laptop. Though, with the way you were stealing glances at him every few minutes, lip caught between your teeth as you typed away, it was easy to forget about anything but you and this moment.  

"What are you doing?” Bucky asked as he glanced over the back cover of the book, flipping through the worn pages.

“Making you a playlist,” you replied, eyes still glued to your screen as you clicked and dragged songs over into a folder on the left side. “Your education doesn’t stop with books, Bucky! I’ve got a whole plan here. Music. Movies. Television. Food. Theater. Tourist traps.”

“Of course,” Bucky laughed, the very idea of spending more time with you like this making his stomach pleasantly weak. You grinned back at him and set the laptop in the space between you, clicking play on the first song of the playlist. Bucky narrowed his eyes. “You’re done already?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” you shrugged and Bucky’s lips curved up into a smile, wondering when you had decided to put the first song on the list and what moments made you think of him, what melodies or lyrics reminded you of him enough to put them together in a playlist. You shoved his shoulder, pointing to the laptop. “Listen!”

Bucky pressed his lips together, nodding as he stilled himself. The soft strum of the guitar filled the room, accompanied by what sounded like an old grainy texture he’d find on tracks from his time, only this sounded more like waves coming in along a beach. Then, a man’s voice came through the static and the acoustic strumming, soft, comforting, joined by the delicate pulsing rhythm of a tambourine.

‘Been traveling these wide roads for so long.

My heart’s been far from you

Ten-thousand miles gone’

Bucky sat back against the frame of your bed, letting the soft tones of the music relax in his muscles and carry away the thoughts in his head. He listened as the harmonies sang over the chorus, the familiar sound, the new sound, the somewhere in between, until it eventually slowed and a woman’s voice came through, lulling Bucky into a calm he could only drop his guard to find next to you.

The voices began to fade and tambourine chimed one last time, and you reached out and pressed pause before the next song could play, carefully looking to him for his reaction. Bucky didn’t know how you had come to learn him so well in the few months since he met you, how you had managed to get him to open up, even if in small careful steps, how you could possibly find a song that reminded him so much of his youth but ushered in a new era at the same time.

It was perfect. It was his new favorite song. He wanted to hear it twenty times over as long as you’d sit next to him.

“Do you like it?” you asked nervously, glancing back at the screen. “There’s others, too. I just thought, maybe you’d--”

“Play again, will ya?” Bucky interjected, smiling at you softly, enough for you to return it eagerly as a relief relaxed over your features. You nodded and restarted the song. The strum of the guitar filled the room again.

Bucky didn’t even notice you pull a camera from under your bed as he listened to the calming melodies of the song. You scooted an inch or so closer to him, enough that your hip touched his and Bucky sucked in a careful breath. You held the camera out at the end of your arm, lens facing you.

“Smile, Buck,” you requested, nodding to the camera when he shot you a confused look.

Bucky watched as you turned back to the camera, smiling as you leaned your head on his shoulder. He couldn’t imagine how easily it was for you to be so close to him, to want to be, after all that he’d done. You treated him with a kindness he never thought he’d see again. He decided he’d do just about anything you asked of him.

So, he took a deep breath, turning to the lens and allowing the smallest of smiles to curve on the edges of his lips, his head tilting until it rested on the crown of your head, soft waves under the subtle of his jaw.

The flash clicked and a square film printed out from the bottom of the camera. You pulled it out carefully and blew it on delicately. It was dark and Bucky could hardly tell if he was even in the image or not.

“It’ll develop, don’t worry,” you said with a wink. “In the meantime, I’ve got more songs for you. Get ready to be blown away.”

Bucky chuckled, settling in for the rest of the day if you wanted, resting his back on your bed and playing with the fibers of the carpet under his palm. Your thigh was still pressed up to his and you made no effort to move away. Bucky found he didn’t mind at all.

-

Three years later and you kept it all this time.

Bucky held the polaroid in his hand, gripped so tightly between his fingers it startled to crinkle in the corner. The curve of your smile, the lines by your eyes as you grinned for the camera, curling up against him. An innocence in his own eyes he hardly even recognized.

You changed him, pulled him from the darkness, helped him find his own footing to step into the light.

Bucky pressed the photo to his chest, tears welling in his eyes as a lump choked in the back of his throat. He didn't know if he could survive without you, without his light.

He didn’t know if he wanted to.

-------

If you didn’t notice up at the top, I’ve made an official playlist for this series! It has the one in the memory, some songs that will pop up later, plus just some stuff that inspired me as I wrote and songs that just complete the vibe of this fic. Check it out if you’re interested! 💕I am also working on one for The Witness and an upcoming mini series 🌸

feedback is always appreciated! 💖

tags 👟@sweetheartbarnes / @musiclover1263 / @pies-wands-and-more / @buckygrantbarnes / @mywinterwolf / @breatheeagainnnn / @jewelofwinter / @panic-naran / @fairislesheets / @kaliforniacoastalteens / @captain-hammer-of-asgard / @daydreamsquad / @deanssweetheart / @maybesomedaytho / @montypythonsholysnail / @saharzek / @jillybeaner13 / @chubby-dumplin / @searchingforbucky / @alohafromhell1 / @tabalugax / @shesalatesh / @whyamidoingthistomyselfhelp / @aliensbecameourstyle / @bucksgoat / @serpensortiaaa / @trash-rats-unite / @hungry-pasta / @nervosaa / @lbuck121/ @get0verit / @obama-mia / @imsoft-barnes / @this-broken-band-girl / @michelehansel / @itz-kira / @forever157 / @grey-water-colors / @sebastianstan-posts / @sarcastic-and-cool / @no-clue-whats-happenin / @capsgrl / @happyeyesandsunshine / @slithredn / @13sunken-ships13

[moominquartz]

rating: T fandom: Steven Universe prompt: Secretly Drawing the Other warnings: None Apply word count: 3.4k requester: @kohakhearts​

[IMG attached]

Connie is in desperate need of a reference picture.

My first complete fic for Fluff Bingo, which is something solely in a writing discord I’m apart of! Yes, it was inspired by BTHB, but it’s fun to have something to go to when I’m all out of angst juice. :)

[Read on AO3!]

~*~

Connie has never been especially talented at anything outside of school. She wins only as many tennis matches as she loses, and she struggles with the advanced sheet music that most of her peers seem to pull off flawlessly. Her grades are always A’s, sure, but that hardly seems like talent or skill, only an ability to test well.

The one thing Connie has never allowed herself to itemize — never allowed herself to compare herself to others, no matter how tempting it is — is her ability to draw.

To be fair, she knows she isn’t very good. When she begins, she’s heavily influenced by the wide-eyed, shoujo anime she adores, and proportions are the furthest thing from her mind. She draws solely for the fun of it, for pure expression. She draws when she’s ecstatic, she draws when she’s angry, she draws when she’s so sad that her tears stain the pages.

It’s only pencil drawings, but they’re very personal to her, and it’s something she doesn’t want anyone knowing she’s doing. Her parents know, because they’re her parents and she needs them to buy her the sketchbooks and the pencils. None of her friends do.

No one except Steven.

“Whoa,” Steven whispers with wide, childlike awe as he holds her sketchbook between his hands. He cradles the book as if it were scripture bound in expensive, gilded leather. “Connie, you’re amazing.”

She blushes. “Oh, it’s not anything special.”

“Are you kidding?” He looks at her with such fervent belief that it throws her off-kilter. “Connie, I don’t know anything about drawing, but look at all the details you put in here!”

That isn’t quite true; Steven draws as well, though maybe not as frequently as she does. Still, she supposes she can see what he’s saying. Even though the proportions are way off and Archimicarus should not be double the size of Lisa’s head, Connie took the time to put in every accessory she loved into Lisa’s outfit. She was determined to make sure Lisa was recognizable, despite the fact that the movie hadn’t come out yet and nobody knew what Lisa was going to look like.

“Okay,” she murmurs, feeling high on the praise. “All right, I’ll take that. Thanks.”

He grins. “Will you show me more sometime?”

“Oh, uh… sure.” Flattered that he’d even ask, she agrees without thinking about it.

-

Connie starts to draw him. Not out of any intention, and certainly not because she wants to. It happens entirely by accident that she looks down at her sketchbook, struggling to find inspiration, and realizes she’s doodled his head in the corner.

It becomes commonplace that, when they’re spending time together — time not always spent doing something, but rather, sharing the same space and simply being — Connie will draw.

Sometimes Steven asks, but more often than not she says no. He takes absolutely no offense at all, and that’s part of why she likes him. He just lets her do her thing while he chugs through another playthrough of GolfQuest Mini or plans out his next TubeTube video. 

Connie’s never been good at drawing real people. They’re even harder to get right than her anime characters. But the doodle doesn’t look entirely bad. It doesn’t look like Steven, but it doesn’t look bad.

And this is how Connie learns to use references: she stares at him while he doesn’t look at her.

She’s nervous at first, watching him while she draws. She’s afraid he’ll realize what she’s doing and draw attention to it. He’ll strike a pose or blush and say something about how she should be drawing someone else, or worse, he’ll ask to see it when she’s done. But Steven doesn’t do any of that. He keeps right on going, completely oblivious.

Connie gets pretty good at drawing him.

-

Years pass and Connie gets pretty damn good at drawing him.

The way she draws him changes with time. Her skills transform and puberty hits Steven like a freight truck. Every time she sees him, he seems to have grown a few inches. She hardly gets the chance to draw him more than once or twice while he’s in front of her. Once she reaches high school, she has far less time to just “hang out” — or if she does, and they aren’t doing anything, she’s forced to spend her time doing homework.

And then she figures out the work-around.

“What’re you up to?” she asks aloud as she types it into text. “Send pics.”

It sounds as if she’s asking for something else, but she absolutely isn’t. She hopes her Mom doesn’t still go through her text messages, or else she’s going to have a very awkward conversation with her later.

Her phone dings in response before she even sets it down.

w/ lars at the bakery!! lookit this! [IMG attached]

Yes, score! She only hopes it’s got a good enough angle—

—aaaaand it’s a picture of a dessert. It’s a very delicious-looking chocolate orange mousse, but it’s not of Steven.

She tries again on a different day, when she’s so tired of studying her eyes will fall out if she has to read one more word. She pulls out her sketchbook, lays on her bed, and texts him again. I’m so boredddd. Doing anything fun?

To prompt a photo in return, she attaches a selfie while she’s lying on the bed. It isn’t the best selfie she’s ever taken, but this isn’t about that. It’s about getting one back.

Steven, as always, replies quickly. sry, @ LH, can’t talk now. No picture. Connie glances at the clock just to make sure it is, indeed, past 8 PM, and she frowns.

Fine. Maybe she can ask for some help.

I am so sorry, Connie. Pearl’s texts are always way longer than they should be. You should’ve asked me a few weeks ago! I had a ton of pictures saved, but I recently exported them to an external harddrive. And he’s been so unwilling to let me take pictures of him recently.

Connie bites her lip. Pearl isn’t exactly a ‘grandma’ with technology — most of the things she’s learned how to operate, she’s done herself or only after one demonstration — but Connie wonders if she pressed, if she asked Pearl to retrieve her most recent picture of him to send to her, that Pearl would be a little too curious in return.

With all other options exhausted, Connie turns to desperate measures.

“Why am I doing this, again?” Amethyst asks over the phone. “Can’t you just, like, ask him yourself?”

“Please,” Connie all but begs. “I can’t tell you what it’s for, I just need a picture of him from the front, and it need to be at least waist-up. Although if you could get a full picture of him standing up, that’d be even better. Oh, and please don’t let him know that it’s for me.”

“Hmm.” Amethyst’s little hum is plotting, and Connie absolutely hates it. “Well, what do I get in return?”

“Huh?”

“What, you’re not expecting me to do this for free, are you?”

Of course. This is Amethyst. Connie chews on her bottom lip, considering.

“Well, what do you want? I could order Fish Stew for you.” Connie’s mom gives her enough of an allowance for her grades that that wouldn’t be a problem. “Or some of Lars’s bakery’s treats, if you like.”

Amethyst’s laugh goes to her bones. “What? I’m gonna need more than that. Hmm… How about this: I’ll take the picture for you, but you gotta come here to get it yourself.”

“What?” Connie’s voice squeaks. “You can’t be serious, Amethyst! It’s a school night!”

Amethyst snickers. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to get it tonight. I’ll text you when I have it, and you’ll get it when you come over. Oh, but when you do, you’d better bring two full pizzas with you, okay?”

“O-kay,” Connie mumbles, defeated.

“Sweet. Catch you on the flip side.”

-

do u need his face showin?

Connie blinks at the text on her phone, three days later. She’s just gotten out of school and Amethyst sent it three hours ago. 

Yes.

dam. well heres the outtake [IMG attached]

When Connie clicks through, she gets the full shot of Steven all right. But he isn’t standing upright and still; instead, he’s rushing past the camera, blurring the shot, a hand in front of his face to block it from being seen.

This is a shitty picture.

i kno, that’s why i sent it to u w/o getting pizza, dam!!

-

In the interim, Connie tries once more to provoke a selfie from Steven. This one requires a little more effort and is incredibly flirtatious — borderline forward — but she has to try it. Her sketches of him seem more and more off by the day, and it’s driving her nuts. She needs that reference shot, at least one.

She has a violin concert one Friday night. She dresses up for it, wearing black slacks, a white button-up with a high collar, and a black blazer. A simple tie, black with blue stripes, adorns her neck, and she lets her hair down. Like this, it would just barely tickle her shoulders. She puts on a little more makeup than she normally would for a concert; she dabbles in foundation, in blush and lipstick, when normally she would settle for mascara and concealer, if she decided on makeup at all.

Eyeshadow is still too foreign for her, but she hopes this is enough.

Then the trick is taking the selfie itself. At first she takes a shot without her shoes on, then decides it would probably look better with them on, especially if she’s trying to get one back. So she puts on her nice pair of loafers and stands at the full-body mirror in her room, taking a deep breath as she tries to set her nerves to rest.

“It’s fine, Connie,” she murmurs. “It’s fine. It’s just Steven, and what’s the worst thing that could happen? That he just flat out doesn’t respond?”

That is, by far, the worst thing that could happen. She doesn’t know what he’d do if he did that, because Steven is always the type to reply within a few minutes. She doesn’t know if it’s just like that for her or for everyone, but she has to trust that he’ll reply to this.

She takes the picture. It’s a little lopsided because her hand is shaking, but it’s the full picture of her, head to toe. She sends it off with a caption that, she hopes, is not too flirtatious, not too forward, because she would hate to put him off:

Don’t I look nice? What are you wearing tonight?

She bites her lip. Mom calls for her to get going, that she’s taken too long, but Steven’s response is almost instantaneous: a long, long string of heart eyes emojis and hearts of different colors and patterns. Then another text, this one saying, you look amazing!! i wish i was there!!!

It isn’t a selfie, and it doesn’t answer her question, but it makes her heart soften nonetheless. He’s so good to her, and of course that makes him difficult to manipulate. Maybe she really should just ask.

Several hours later, on the drive back home from the concert, she turns her phone back on. And to her surprise, there is a message waiting.

sorry this took so long, i wanted to match!! [IMG attached]

She blinks.

Steven has gone all out for this. He’s wearing a formal dress she hasn’t seen before, the same blue of her tie; an A-line that allows her to see the broadness of his chest, with off-the-shoulder sleeves that proudly display the freckles of his shoulders, and a pleated skirt that begins at his waist. His shoes are the same color, heeled, open-toed, and he’s even done his nails.

His makeup is more intricate than hers. Blush, foundation, eyeliner, mascara, an iridescent violet eyeshadow and vibrant lipstick.

He’s sent multiple pictures. One is of him doing a kissy face, eyes lidded; the next is him laughing, blurred from moving the camera, what might have been a shot he hadn’t done on purpose; and the next is of him doing a peace sign.

Connie’s face burns. She’s glad her mom and dad take the front seats, so that she can have this little moment all to herself.

I love it! She hesitates over the send button. He sent her all those emojis, and she can’t even say more than three words?

You look great! Oh, but he looks more than great, doesn’t he? 

Can I come over? Now that was honest, but way too suggestive!

She deletes it again and then realizes they’re almost home. She has to send something, she’s been thinking way too hard about it!

You’re the most beautiful, most handsome man in the whole world, and I wish I was with you.

She sends it before she can think twice about it. Steven responds immediately with many more emojis.

-

Connie can’t get the way he looked out of her head. In school, she doodles the dress in the margins of her notes. At tennis practice, she imagines trying to wear those heels and run at the same time. In orchestra, she pretends Steven is watching, that he came to her concert in that outfit.

She draws him, of course. For hours in her room, she flips through the pictures and draws, and draws, and draws. She draws him in the dress in different poses, in different settings, with different people.

… Mostly with her.

Her outfit’s different, though. It’s not the same, boring orchestra one she had to wear for the concert. She Googles different outfits and finds some fantastic, colorful tuxes, and of course pretends she would ever be able to wear them.

She’s in the middle of coloring a self-indulgent piece in which the two of them are dancing in these outfits (and this is one she would never, ever show to anyone), when she gets a text from Amethyst.

i got the pic. but uh… kinda havin some issues [IMG attached]

Connie blinks.

It’s a picture of Steven, though not the one Connie asked for. He’s closer to the camera, a rage in his eyes as he moves toward the person taking it, mouth open as if speaking.

Oh, no. Is he mad at Amethyst for sneaking pictures of him? Quickly, Connie tries to call her, but it only rings twice before going to voicemail.

Oh, no.

She calls Steven instead. He hangs up on her, too, but shoots her a short text: can’t talk.

URGENT, she replies in all caps and without punctuation. He does not reply.

She grabs her sketchbook, rushes downstairs. It’s late but not so late that she’ll be in trouble. She runs past Dad at the kitchen island, sipping on coffee before he goes in. “Sorry, I’ll be back before Mom!” she promises, slipping her shoes on.

“Where you going, honey?”

“To Steven’s!”

And when she opens the door, there, waiting for her, is a pink-hued lion.

-

When she throws open the door to the beach house, Steven is still yelling: “—you know I don’t like it when you take my picture—”

“Why?!” Amethyst yells. “Just because it’s me?!”

“No, it’s because I don’t want y’all snapping pictures of me for a scrapbook like I’m a baby—”

“AHEM.”

Connie’s clearing of her throat cuts through it, startling them both. They spin back around to face her, and while Amethyst’s glance goes askew, almost ashamed, Steven sees in her an immediate ally.

“Ugh, Connie, this isn’t a great time!” His voice is high, angry, but not at her; clearly, he thinks she’ll be on his side. “You won’t believe this, but Amethyst’s been trying to snap photos of me all week when she thinks I haven’t been looking, without even asking me or anything, and I’m in the middle of confronting her about it because if she thinks this is funny—”

“She doesn’t!”

“—just because that concealer isn’t working on the dark circles under my eyes, then she’s got another thing—” He cuts himself off, and Connie feels her nerves spike as he turns to her again, looking almost like a startled animal. “—uh… what are you talking about, Connie?”

“I asked her to do it.” Connie’s voice is one of defeat. Shame makes the room feel so much hotter than it is, and she wishes she could hide. She makes do by pressing her face into both of her hands and speaking against her palms. “I’m sorry. I just… I needed to get a picture of you and I didn’t want you to know, and that was probably really weird and creepy of me, and I’m sorry.”

The silence is suffocating. Steven whispers something to Amethyst, and Connie can’t hear the response. He must think she’s so creepy, that she’s been manipulating him somehow, and that she’s a horrible, untrustworthy person—

A moment later, Steven is right by her side. “Hey.” His voice is soft, and he pries a hand from her face to enfold in both of his. It should be comforting, but for a moment, she feels even worse; like she’s tricked him into offering her this kindness. “Um… So, why didn’t you just ask me?”

“I thought you’d say no.” That’s not quite it. “I… I thought you’d ask why.”

“Well, now I kinda really wanna know.”

“I…” And here it is, the big moment. The confession. She looks down, unable to meet his gaze as her free hand fists at her side. “I’ve been drawing you and I needed a reference.”

There’s another beat of silence. Then two. And then Steven bursts into laughter, loud and relieved and maybe even playful. It still is humiliating to hear, but at the same time, she’s so, so glad he isn’t angry.

“You totally could’ve asked! I would’ve sent one to you, because that’s like… really, really nice of you to draw me.”

“No, it’s not!” And as she looks back at him, she can see just how much he doesn’t see this. She doesn’t tug her hand free because, selfishly, she hopes he never lets go. “I haven’t been doing it because I’m planning to paint you a portrait or anything, I’ve been solely using you for practice and it’s probably a really selfish thing of me, I-I even used the selfies you sent me that one night, and I’ve kind of lost all control over that, because you were so gorgeous in that dress and I…”

“Wait.” He cuts her off, and she bites her tongue. “Can I, like… see the drawings you’ve done? Or a few of them? I know you don’t like it when I ask, but there’s got to be at least one or two you’re proud of, right?”

“You… want to see them?”

“I want to see everything you’ve ever drawn!” His voice is so sincere and enthusiastic that her heart soars, forgetting immediately every single thing she said that could have soured their relationship. “But only if you’re cool with it! You’re such an amazing artist, Connie.”

“I don’t know if that’s true.”

“Don’t start with me. I can go on and on.”

She smiles. She fidgets with a strand of her hair, and though it’s juvenile, she plays witness to the way such a small thing makes Steven’s face light up in adoration.

“Hey.” The word cuts through the moment, startling the both of them, and they look over at Amethyst leaning against the fridge with a raised eyebrow. “So now that like, the truth is out there and all that, I think I’m owed something.”

Connie opens her mouth at the same moment Steven groans, cutting her off. “I… yeah. I’m sorry, Amethyst. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, and I’m sorry for just… assuming stuff.”

Amethyst’s gaze then turns to Connie.

“Uh… Thank you, Amethyst.” Connie sighs. “For doing all of this for us.” 

Amethyst laughs. It startles Connie a little, but Amethyst just shakes her head, a knowing grin on her face. “I can think of, maybe, a way for you two to express just how sorry and grateful you are…”

Steven blurts out a “huh?” while Connie giggles, reaching for the phone in her pocket. 

“On it.”

[fandom-necromancer]

Another story from a different life

This was prompted by a beautiful anon as another take of this story from Nines’ perspective. Enjoy some insecure android feelings!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warning: Panic attack, character with low self-worth)

Nines felt his thirium pump working overtime, as he stared at the hand that had closed around his and pulled him through the apartment. It was warm, so warm it briefly set of his alarm, because that unit had to be overheating, he had to help immediately! Except that this was normal. Humans were warm. An innate attribute of all living things. Living. Gavin pulled him from these thoughts as he yanked his body forwards letting himself fall onto the bed. The human used his momentum to make Nines follow him. The android found himself laying beside him, impossibly near to that grinning face. He lifted his hand to trace the scar on Gavin’s nose, then followed the bony structure to the jaw, brushing along. This warmth, these irregularities…

Gavin’s smile widened and the warmth got even more intense as blood rushed up to his cheeks. The human laid his own hands around Nines neck and pulled him into a kiss. ‘Oh, Nines, you are perfect’, Gavin murmured against his lips, breath wet and full of information, another evidence of how complex life was. Metabolites of the oral microbiome, traces of what Gavin had last eaten and what he had brushed his teeth with. It all met the analysing fluid, that coated Nines’, made him sterile.

Nines smiled and joked: ‘Well, that’s what I’ve been created for.’ But he couldn’t hide the sour aftertaste it brought with it from himself. Gavin just hummed, eyes and hands trailing lower down his neck to the fabric of his turtleneck. It was too tight to easily slip under, so Gavin opted to follow the line of pseudo-muscle to the blue pulsing ring of his regulator that shone through the fabric. It blinked red a few times as Nines analysed the touch and let that data overflow him. No one had ever touched him like this, contact with humans was only necessary on his hands, shoulders and head, not down in these more delicate regions. Gavin traced the ring and grinned at the red stutter. ‘I guess the fact you haven’t mauled me yet means I’m allowed belly rubs?’ ‘I am not a cat, Gavin!’, Nines barked back and looked down at that hand on top of his regulator. How easy would it be for the human to grab it and pull it out, laugh at him how he’d been fooled, how no human could l- No. This was Gavin, this was his partner. He would never do that, and he wouldn’t think like this, right? He looked up into that smirking face and tried to find any malice in it. But Gavin was too occupied with his hands on the seam of his turtleneck to see his sudden panic. ‘This thing is stupid, I bet you would look better without it’, he chuckled, pushing up the fabric in his hands.

In mere seconds Nines had batted away the hand and had scrambled out of bed to press himself to the next wall. From the sudden red glow in the room Nines figured he had dangerously high stress levels, but deviancy hid the statistics from him. Not that it mattered, he couldn’t do anything about the ache of warmth in his abdomen, overheating of vital biocomponents only minutes away. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. There was no danger, no imaginary human laughing at him, degrading him. This was just his overthinking mind. It was fine, really. ‘-nes? Hey what’s wrong, buddy?’ The android opened his eyes and saw the worry in the other’s eyes. He really did love him. But how long until he realised, he was only a lifeless piece of metal, that he was just a very advanced computer. How long until Gavin thought about it and came to the realisation, he loved something that couldn’t love him back? How long until he would throw him away like the worthless piece of machinery he was?

Nines heard a thump and only then realised, his knees had given in on him as the cooling agent in his veins couldn’t help the heat. ‘Shit, Nines, Nines! Calm down, please! What can I do? How can I help you?’ Nines had closed his eyes willing everything away, but this annoying voice wouldn’t leave him be. Suddenly there was something ice cold dropped on his head and torso and he flinched back. ‘Does that help? Phck, you are hot as hell and I don’t mean it that way for once!’ Nines clasped at the cold package and hold it close to him, watching his temperature slowly sink. ‘It helps’, Nines answered quietly. ‘Thank you.’

‘Dude, what is wrong? Is it something I did? Hey, if you’re not up to this whole shit, that’s fine. I mean, not everyone likes being touched and stuff. And that is totally okay! And if it’s me that’s causing this-‘ ‘It’s not you. I just… I’m not worthy of you.’

‘Hey, Nines, what the phck?’ Gavin sat down opposite to him. ‘Of course, you are not!’ He smiled and Nines feared the imaginary Gavin quickly becoming reality. ‘You dumbass are worthy of royalty. You deserve someone who could treat you like a goddamn god. You are absolutely not worthy of that dumb idiot Detective that has a tendency to pick the wrong fights and not think of himself or the people around you.’ He hesitated, but then lightly took Nines’ hand in his again. ‘Tell me, what’s on your mind. I never thought you would get that idea of us- of me. So, let me prove you wrong, okay?’

Nines looked down on that hand and forced to focus on a loose strand of the carpet as Gavin decided to brush his thumb over it in slow, soothing motions. ‘You deserve a human, Gavin. I can’t give you what a human could.’ It nearly hurt to hear these words coming from his mouth. ‘And what would give you the impression?’ ‘I am cold. Humans enjoy warmth. Even with the synthetic skin, I only ever achieve this weird temperature-less feeling of hair or wood.’ Gavin nodded. ‘Yeah okay. So, cuddling has to wait until you are room temperature in winter. I don’t care.’ ‘I don’t have individual markers. No scars, no irregularities. I am utterly inhuman.’ ‘Yeah, I know. I know you are perfect. I love you.’

Nines stood up impulsively hearing Gavin’s hand slap against his thigh as it lost grip on his. ‘You really don’t get it! You might think you love me now. But I am a machine, Gavin! There are thousands of me waiting in some Cyberlife basement. I am replaceable. I am a piece of technology like your phone or microwave. I was created, built – not born. I don’t need sleep. I don’t have genitalia. I don’t feel the way humans do. I. Am. Not. Human!’

Gavin staid seated on the floor. ‘Do you see me care, Nines?’ He looked up to him, leaning his head far back. ‘I’m not an android, either. I can’t interface. I am far less capable of analysing stuff. I can’t calculate the last digit of pi or some shit. Honestly, I always expected you to back out because you found some hot android. Never thought you were doubting me.’ ‘But Gavin, I am not human. This body will never be what you want, and you will realise I am just a damn program, no matter how advanced!’ ‘And I said: I don’t care!’ Gavin stood up to underline his message. ‘I know you are “just” an advanced program. So what? So am I if you so will. Screw these idiots who told you being human was the epitome of existence. Shit, you sound more like me than I did back then! I love you. I love you how you are! I never even saw your body out of clothing, how do you know I won’t love the shit out of it? And I know you, your personality. Your damn annoying overcomplicated thoughts, your brilliant logic. Your absolutely disgusting sense of music and your heaven-sent ability to be just the right balance of soulmate and asshole! I love you how you are, Nines. Maybe you won’t believe me, but it’s the truth.’

Nines had slumped, closed his eyes and sighed in defeat. ‘I’m just afraid I’m not good enough. Because I love you too and I don’t even want to think about the prospect of loosing you.’ ‘Don’t you worry about that, Nines, okay?’ Gavin smiled again and carefully snaked his arms around the android’s form, only really hugging him as Nines leaned into it. ‘You won’t get rid of me, believe me.’ Nines planted a kiss at Gavin’s forehead. ‘Thank you.’ ‘Ah, Nines, you are the only one thanking me for that, let me tell you. Now… How about we get back to bed and you show me that body of yours you are so insecure about. I bet it’s just as beautiful as the rest of you.

[lunamanar]

Off-the-Cuff First-impressions Review: Trials of Mana

I got Seiken Densetsu 3/Trials of Mana in the mail today and am surprised by just how excited I am about it. After the admittedly predictable letdowns of the Secret of Mana “remake” and the FFVIII “remaster,” not to mention the iOS revision of the former, you’d think I’d be jaded at this point. 

But! FFVII remake is Actually Good, and so far it looks like Trials of Mana is, while certainly lower budget, also Actually Good. The voice acting is kinda meh, but not bad enough to detract from the game in my opinion, and considering they are working with SNES-era scripts (the dialogue is 99% word-for-word the same as the more recent translation of the original SD3 game, so it’s going to be a bit stilted anyway) it’s really not bad at all. 

Besides, the actual meat of the game--the world, character and monster design, and the gameplay--is extremely solid and I have had very little trouble acclimating to it. It’s fun to play, it feels good to run around and explore the world and the battles are both very simplistic in a way that is familiar to an old fart like me and very satisfying in the way they function. One of the biggest weaknesses the original game had was absolutely horrendous input lag in some areas due to 1. the sheer size of the loaded map section, such as Rolante/Laurant, 2. The number of on-screen instructions the SNES had to process during battles, particularly during fights where you had massive sprites taking up the entire screen (the awful awful wall-guardian “Genova” [harhar] is probably the single hardest boss in the game purely due to input lag/drops; when you attack an enemy, even assuming your weapon swings when you tell it to, and that’s a big ‘if,’ the monster you are attacking is actually in a state which is several frames ahead of whatever state it visually appears to be in on-screen, making it extremely difficult to time your attacks properly to both defend and do optimal damage to what should have been a relatively minor “miniboss” fight). Trials of Mana, on the other hand, has none of those problems, simply thanks to more modern technology. So far every fight I’ve engaged in has been smooth and responsive as well as very visually appealing.

And wow is this game pretty. It’s not the most amazing example of the best graphical advances in gaming history, to be sure, but I genuinely don’t think that matters, as it’s still beautifully detailed and really does look like they took the original graphics and magicked them into more modern models. The re-imaginings of each area and monster are very faithful to both the aesthetic and the layout of the original design while at the same creatively expanding on them; I've had no trouble finding my way around familiar maps or identifying the bestiary, but I have found a lot of added depth to them, such as the ability to jump down on rooftops and find hidden nooks that were just static backdrops or otherwise out of sight in the original. The areas are more layered and interactive, but very importantly, nothing is missing. Not even the dogs and cats, who still bark and meow at you if you talk to them. I feel like I’m being allowed to see and explore the original maps from angles I didn’t have access to in the past. It really makes the 16-year-old in me unbelievably happy, to be able to finally, actually see and do these things I could only wish for back then. For people who have never played it, it’s probably a very pretty, if otherwise unremarkable experience, but for me it’s the granting of a wish I’ve had for a long time, but never expected to happen. 

Similarly, I think a lot of people will look at the plot for this game and go, “...what?” Because it really doesn’t seem to have been changed at all from the SNES version, aside from a few little tweaks to the dialogue here and there to ease the transition between some sections or correct for differences in game mechanics (of which there are only a few; again, this is definitely a remake--it remains the same game with the same mechanics at its core). This can lead to some pretty awkward interactions between characters, and at times it seems pretty clear that the voice actors weren’t given a lot of direction about the context of their lines. It’s not a bad story, but it’s a very simply told one, and feels more like it’s targeting 12~16 year-olds (which it probably is, to be fair) who might not care so much about nitpicking the semantics of the plot and character motivations. Which is to say, most of the characters who are not main protagonists or villains are painfully cardboard-flat. They do what they do and say what they say because it advances the plot for them to do and say those things. Elliot falls for a “trick” that I’m pretty sure most 4-year-olds would see through. The Bad Guys are 1-dimensionally evil, wanting to either destroy or take over the world, with the possible exception of Lugar and Koren who have slightly more complicated “I’m your rival” reasons. That leaves the complexity up to the protagonists to shoulder, and while I haven’t played that far into the game yet, thus far is is beat-for-beat and shot-for-shot the same as the original, so I expect that character-building will be left largely up to the player to mentally write in, especially since the game features light/dark class-changes as a feature of its progression. (I do kiiiind of hope that your choice in class changes has a more material effect on the ending’s outcome, but I think that might be asking a bit too much from a remake of this sort.) But the somewhat archaic plot and character arcs are not surprising and for me don’t take away any of the game’s charm. Nikita is still the best, the shop owners still dance inexplicably, the fact you can play a werewolf is badass, rabites are still cute, Don Perignon is still kind of a jerk. I’m very nervous/excited to get Busukaboo and Flammie and hope they’ll be as much fun now as they were then. And the whole world is so damn pretty, I’m just glad to be there. 

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the music. I’m not sure how much of a hand Hiroki Kikuta actually had in this remake, but the synth-orchestral arrangements of his originals are excellent so far. They’re both accessible/adaptable to the game’s sudden scene transitions (”Nuclear Fusion” starts and ends just as cleanly) while being a richer version of the themes, keeping close to the original sound while making better use of all the instruments that the SNES just wasn’t capable of emulating well. It blends very well with the rest of the game and I hope that continues to be true. 

I do have nitpicks; while I know it’s a popular mechanic, I don’t like the “shift-lock” sort of dash using the left analog stick as both directional and a button. I think the camera controls are solid, but I do wish there wan a toggle-option to have the camera just follow over your shoulder wherever you run until you either run into a battle or turn it off. The character models don’t seem especially affected by anything except the most intense/pervasive lighting and sometimes feel oddly out of place, like I’m watching one of those old movies where an animated character comes into the Real World. Some of the monster designs seem cute-ified more than I’d like. And I can’t help but think that if the game can be this nice as a third-tier title for SE, what could it have been if they’d but the resources behind it that they obviously did with FF7? I understand why they didn’t, but it’s hard not to wonder what it could have been if they had.  Seiken Densetsu is one of the most fraught series in the history of home video games and the fact that it’s even still around is something of a miracle, in my opinion. After the last...four?...titles following Legend of Mana, and the disappointment that was SD2′s (second!) remake, I really didn’t go into Trials of Mana with high hopes. I have been really, honestly pleasantly surprised. Even if you’re a diehard old-schooler who really doesn’t like modern JRPGs, if you have any nostalgia left for this series, you should give this one a go. I think it translated really well to 3D models, and what little it loses in the switch, it makes up for in playability. It’s not hard to pick up, it’s easy on the eyes and ears, it’s less grind-y than the original, and it doesn’t try to be more than what it is. I’ll probably always prefer the original, of course; there are too many memories attached to it for me, too many things that were groundbreaking at the time that are now old news or completely obsolete nowadays, and the new game certainly doesn’t push any modern boundaries. But it’s worth checking out, and especially if you’ve spent 20 years feeling let down by the Mana series, this might actually be the game you were hoping for, albeit maybe a decade late. 

[azebraslife]

TWSITD was bad for 3H’s narrative

Hopefully Three Houses’ DLCs will add some meat to TWSITD, but as it stands, I think their inclusion is overall detrimental to 3H’s writing. I have grievances with the narratives of many FE games, for that matter, for making a single group (usually religious, though not in TWSITD’s case) be the driving force behind most of their games’ villains. In TWSITD’s case, they’re so cartoonishly evil and have such a hand in nearly all of the game’s problems (dating back more than a thousand years, even before Seiros and Nemesis’ clash), it detracts from the gray morality that the game tries to depict.

Edelgard probably gets the worst of it, because their involvement splits her story between that of a strong-willed individual who came out of her traumatic experiences willing to do anything to see her ideal future come to fruition in her (shortened) lifetime, and a helpless girl who’s little more than a puppet for her abusers, forced to do their bidding until she can bide her time to strike back -- which is only after she’s achieved everything they want out of her (aside from her own death).

I don’t think those two aspects have to be mutually exclusive, for that matter. But its handling in 3H is bogged down by the way TWSITD is completely brushed aside for Crimson Flower’s ending while the Church of Seiros, which ironically doesn’t even have a strong hand in the things they’re accused of, takes the brunt of CF’s narrative villainy. The game never delves into the implications of having to live with Arundel (the disguise of Thales, TWSITD’s leader), and how Edelgard was very likely influenced by him, if subconsciously. Instead, CF just rolls with the idea that Edelgard is both morally and logically correct, and TWSITD are the lesser evil to be dealt with when the time is right.

If CF’s epilogue talked about her tumultuous rule and the difficulties of ruling a united Fodlan, I think it would be more palatable. But no, it's a golden ending that completely ignores the heavy implications that she’s become Seiros II. It also ignores how the Insurrection of the Seven was a response to Ionius’ consolidation of power -- and considering the fates of House Hrym, which attempted to leave the Empire in response, and House Ordelia, which provided aid to Hrym, the nobles have a decent reason for believing Ionius could become a tyrant. (In fact, Hanneman suggests to Hubert that his father’s participation may have been to protect House Vestra.)

On top of all that, due to Arundel’s involvement in the Empire’s retaliation against Hrym and Ordelia and in the Insurrection, it’s easy to draw TWSITD’s connection to them. The crest experiments on Lysithea and her siblings were test runs for the experiments on Edelgard and hers, and after the success in Lysithea, TWSITD were satisfied enough to sell the knowledge of their results to Duke Aegir as, perhaps, a solution to the dwindling number of Crest-bearing children.

The premise of doing unethical experiments to resolve their Crest issue would actually be fine narratively! Arguing that unethical scientific and technological progress is needed to spur growth would fit right in place with a story that has us inciting a 5-year-long war in the name of overturning a corrupt social order. But... that doesn’t happen. Edelgard, who is among those who suffered the most at TWSITD’s experiments and sorely wants payback, is ironically the one who has to turn a blind eye to it and let it continue. It’s also undermined through Hanneman, who achieves the fruits of his Crest research (granting and removing Crests) regardless of the route he’s on, without the bloody death toll TWSITD leave behind. He’s also basically sponsored by Garreg Mach (and by extension, the Church of Seiros), so it’s not like they oppose Crest research as long as he isn’t looting bones and hearts and blood for it.

Any argument that the Church of Seiros is suppressing technological advancement is undermined by Shamir and Claude, neither of whom were raised in Fodlan. Both question the large emphasis on religion in Fodlan, but never its technological state. There are no accounts of Almyra or Dagda having significant technological advancement, nor evidence that Rhea cares enough to try and suppress it in foreign countries to keep up appearances in Fodlan. (Which is a real accusation I’ve seen from pro-Edelgard fans.) It’s only TWSITD (and Rhea in CF) who possess any fancy technology, and TWSITD are only interested in using their tech to destroy things. Inconsistently, at that; what determines what they can target? They can target Arianrhod and Merceus, with a veiled threat of nuking Enbarr, so... why didn’t they just use it on any capital and throw the continent into bloody chaos? They develop this whole convoluted plan for revenge on Seiros, that eventually backfires them on every route (arguably even in Azure Moon, where they aren’t dealt with directly, as Arundel gets taken out far sooner than he expected).

In that regard, TWSITD’s chaotic evil nature make Edelgard’s arguably well-intentioned objectives (besides her whole beef with Faerghus’ and the Alliance’s very existences) a lot muddier. It’s quite difficult to argue a virtuous cause when you’re working with a group that wants all of Fodlan to collapse on itself through infighting. Cornelia belittles Edelgard, praising her for being a good girl and doing exactly as TWSITD wants. After we kill her, Arundel punishes Edelgard by nuking Arianrhod, destroying a key fortress and a significant number of their own troops, logistics and morale be damned. Edelgard, who isn’t in a position to reveal TWSITD as the cause of the attack, is left little option but to lie to the people and pin the blame on the Church.

And on the subject of Cornelia, TWSITD’s gambit with the Tragedy of Duscur is ridiculous. We aren’t given details, but if Cornelia was already one of TWSITD when she arrived in Faerghus and “cured” the city of its plague, they’ve been setting up Dimitri for basically his whole life. (You could also safely assume, if the premise is true, that the plague itself was orchestrated to give Cornelia soft power.) They destabilized an entire country just for the sake of pitting Dimitri against Edelgard, and it worked.

In all honesty, I think TWSITD’s involvement in the Tragedy of Duscur was a bit of a mistake. What happened could be removed of their influence and it probably still would’ve happened (the crux is that noblemen believed Lambert was too radical and was steering Faerghus in the wrong direction). Making TWSITD involved turns the tragedy into, as Dimitri says, a “sick farce” wherein all the pieces they’ve laid down move in the exact script they had in mind.

Long in short, TWSITD take away a lot of agency, turning events that would otherwise be natural results of political conflicts of interesting coming to a head into an elaborate scheme to destroy Fodlan from within. If TWSITD had a reduced presence in the story or were doing dangerous things for a more neutral cause, and if 3H was willing to take a leap of faith and make non-golden endings (let’s be real, all of 3H’s route endings are poorly written in this regard), I feel like the narrative would be stronger for it.

[katedoesfics]

Breath of the Resistance: Chapter 5

The rest of their visit in Rito Village went without further incident between Link and Revali. Vah Medoh was activated and Revali was able to control it without too much trouble. It was just starting to get dark when Link and Zelda returned to their headquarters in the city where Zelda bid Link goodnight. But Link was not ready to return home just yet.

He stood outside of Dorian’s office. Dorian was seated behind his desk, his phone against his ear. He looked up and met Link’s gaze from the window and motioned for him to enter. Link wasn’t sure what he wanted to do or say, but he entered the office regardless as Dorian finished his conversation.

“Thanks, I’ll be in touch.” He hung up the phone and met Link’s gaze with a smile. “How are those Divine Beasts?”

“We activated two of the four,” Link said.

Dorian gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“I can’t stay,” Link said. “I just wanted to let you know that we would be back for a few days before heading out again.”

“Sit.” Dorian’s smile was gone.

Link took a seat.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

Dorian narrowed his eyes at him. “Something seems to be.”

Link hesitated. “It may not be my place,” he began. “But I’m concerned that Zelda may not be able to awaken this power of hers.” It wasn’t a total lie, anyway.

Dorian seemed to consider this with a slow nod.

“Should this Ganon attack,” Link continued, “I think it may be wise to have a backup plan.”

Dorian folded his hands together and let them rest against his desk. “There is no backup plan.”

Link blinked at him. “What?”

Dorian stood and perused through a few books on the wall beside him. “Whether you believe the legends or not, they are a part of Hyrule’s history, and history is doomed to repeat itself. For that reason we prepare for Ganon’s return.”

“Return?”

“I think you’ll find, Link, that the stories passed down from generation to generation hold more truth than you realize.” He selected a book and set it down on his desk, flipping through the pages.

“The Sheikah have made sure to keep accurate records of our history over the years,” he continued. He paused on a few pages where there were some old drawings and scans of old documents. The drawings showed the Divine Beasts and the Guardians. There was also ancient Hylian text written on the pages. Link could pick out a few of the words, including Ganon’s name.

“And over the years,” Dorian continued, “they have created a highly advanced form of technology that would ensure Hyrule’s safety, but not without the help of an ancient power, of course. You see,” Dorian sat in his chair and pushed the book forward. “For as far back as history has been recorded - as long as Hyrule has existed - Ganon has risen to attack our great nation. And with the help of Hylia’s power, Ganon has been defeated and sealed away. The Goddess Hylia’s power resides within Zelda, a descendant of Hylia herself. It is this power that must seal away Ganon.”

Link flipped through the book as Dorian spoke. There was written documentation of various instances where Ganon rose to attack Hyrule, and two individuals worked together to defeat him and seal him away once more. The names Link and Zelda were mentioned on quite a few of these pages, causing Link’s stomach to knot sickeningly.

“Seems like a flawed system,” Link muttered. He closed the book. “Clearly this seal doesn’t work very well if he continues to attack.”

“As long as the Triforce remains, Ganon will continue to seek its power. Ultimately, that is what drives him. By taking over Hyrule, he will become able to redeem the other two pieces. Once all three pieces are brought together, he will have the ultimate power that he seeks. As legend has it, he already possesses one piece of the triforce. This one piece is enough to break Hylia’s seal every time. And thus, history repeats itself.”

“What about the other two pieces?” Link asked.

“One is possessed by Hylia’s own descendant. The other belongs to Hyrule’s Chosen Hero; the one who will aid in the defeating of Ganon.”

Link stared at the book before him. “And you believe this because it’s written in a damn book?”

“Whether you want to believe it or not is irrelevant. Ganon will rise, and it is up to you and Zelda to stop him.”

“You have got to be kidding me. And I bet you think a magic weapon will do the trick, too?”

Dorian smiled at Link, but his smile was chilling. “You catch on quick.” He flipped the book open and let it rest on a page with an image of a sword on it.

“I’ll give you sacred powers and an evil man that wants that power to himself, but you’re fucking insane if you think I’m some medieval swordsman that’s gonna kill Hyrule’s biggest enemy with a piece of steel.”

“Fortunately for you, the sword won’t be needed to fight Ganon. However, it will be needed to aid Zelda in sealing him away once you have defeated him.”

“Great,” Link muttered. “And where is this sword?”

“The sword is protected in the ancient forest to the north. Only the Chosen Hero can pull it from the stone it rests in.”

“Guess that means me.”

“I guess so, kid.”

Link stood. He certainly had not come to Dorian expecting a history lesson, or to be told he was some Chosen Hero, for the matter. He would have been certain Dorian was giving him shit, but he knew how seriously he took his Sheikah heritage. They were a highly respected race, even Link knew that. But that only brought up more questions that made Link uneasy. If Dorian were a double agent, he could easily be setting Link up. If only he could take the sword, then once it was removed, Dorian would have him right in his hands. He would take the sword, preventing them from sealing away Ganon. It was all too convenient.

He couldn’t get that sword.

“So, you see,” Dorian started, “there is no backup plan. If you and Zelda fail in your task,

Ganon will be free to rule Hyrule for all of time.”

“Well,” Link started, his gaze resting on Dorian’s. His eyes narrowed slightly. “We can’t let that happen, now, can we?”

*****

It had been a couple days since Link and Zelda returned to the city, and in that time, Link had not seen Zelda since. Not until he received an order directly from the king to fetch her from the countryside where she had ‘run off to on some silly research project of hers.’

Needless to say, the order had Link slightly perplexed. But the king was anxious for them to finish activating the Divine Beasts, and Link was too, for that matter. He had more pressing issues to deal with, and he wasn’t quite sure how he would do that. There was the issue of Dorian’s loyalty, the king’s own intentions, the Master Sword, the mystery behind the Yiga Clan, and the threat of Ganon’s return. And the only way he could best think to deal with the situation was to determine Dorian’s true intentions first. If he could find solid proof of that, then he could figure out how to go from there.

Link did find Zelda out in the countryside, musing over one of the mysterious shrines that were scattered over Hyrule. She held the Sheikah Slate in her hands, peering at it curiously before attempting to place it on what seemed to be the control panel just outside. Unlike the Divine Beasts, however, the slate did not seem to activate it in any way. She was muttering to herself as Link got out of the car. He closed the car door which caught her attention, but she only seemed aggravated with him.

“Let me guess,” she started, her hands on her hips. “My father sent you after me.”

Link opened his mouth to speak, but Zelda cut him off angrily.

“I bet he told you I was off doing some silly research project like I’m some dumb schoolgirl. If it doesn’t have anything to do with this stupid power or a damn war that hasn’t even started, he doesn’t want me doing it. But I’ll have you know that there’s more to these shrines than people realize. They’re part of the ancient Sheikah technology, too, so they must be important, and I’m going to figure it out.” She turned on her heels abruptly and collected the slate from the pedestal. “I just don’t know why the slate isn’t responding to it. I cannot get them to open no matter what I try!”

Link hesitated, unsure of what to say to comfort her. But mostly, he didn’t want her going off on some rant. “Maybe you just need-”

“What I need is for everyone to stop breathing down my neck!” She pocketed the slate and turned to Link angrily. “Stop following me! I don’t need any guards or escorts and I don’t need you. Got it?”

“I don’t think you have a choice in that matter,” Link said crossing his arms.

Zelda ignored him as she walked towards her car. She slid in the driver’s seat, closing the door hard as she did so, and turned the key in the ignition. Without hesitation, she threw the car into drive and peeled away from the shrine and back onto the road heading towards the highway.

Link watched as she took the ramp, disappearing around the corner, heading south on the highway. He wasn’t sure where she was going. Clearly she wasn’t returning to the city, which was to the north. And he would be stupid to return to the king without her. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This woman was going to drive him crazy.

After a moment, he worked up the strength to go after her, knowing very well that he would likely be yelled at some more for simply doing his job. He got into his car and drove towards the highway, but Zelda was nowhere to be seen. He stepped on the gas and weaved in and out of traffic in an attempt to catch up with her, but she had seemingly disappeared from the highway. Was it possible she took one of the exits in an attempt to throw Link off her trail?

Link took the next exit he came to and drove through town, but still there was no sign of Zelda. He cursed under his breath; he was a dead man if he lost her. She could have been anywhere. He dialed her number as he turned back onto the highway, but she did not answer. After his fifth call, it went straight to voicemail. She had turned her damn phone off.

Link threw his phone across his car and it landed on the floor. He slammed his hand into the steering wheel as he drove further down the highway. He wasn’t quite sure where to start looking, but he knew there was no going back. At the very least, maybe he could disappear in the desert and never be heard from again. That would have been a far better fate than anything else.

[inawickedlittletown]

There For You (one-shot)

A/N: This contains Endgame spoilers. 

Words: 5,698

Summary: While returning the stones, Steve ends up in 1970 again...and then he decides to stay in 1970 and it's not because of Peggy. 

Tony ran a hand through his hair. He was a little shaky on account of not having slept for over thirty-six hours. But sleep didn’t matter, not when Tony was so close to getting it right. The idea had come to him last week but with finals and with Rhodey constantly grabbing him and steering him into his bed and going as far as tucking him in to get him to finally sleep, Tony hadn’t gotten a true chance to jump on it. But now he was home. Finals were over. He had the holidays to look forward to, and he had almost completed his first robot. Well his first robot with some level of artificial intelligence.

What helped was that his parents were both busy in the days leading up to Christmas. There was a charity gala or something on his mom’s end and then his dad was still not back from the latest expedition into finding Captain America. Again.

Since no one had expected Tony to actually get home right when the semester ended, Jarvis wasn’t even around. Tony sort of preferred the house to himself. It was huge and kind of lonely when he was in it on his own -- but soon he was going to have a friend. A robot.

“And if I do this right then you won’t just be any robot. You’re going to be AI,” Tony muttered.

The programing aspect of it was probably the hardest part. Tony had been building things since he was three. Not that it had ever impressed his father -- not unless he was showing him off to other people because they were impressed. His father thought that he could do better. Tony had long ago stopped worrying about his opinion.

Tony was focused on the screen in front of him, his fingers typing in code, hoping to get this just right. He didn’t hear the door open or the footsteps. He didn’t hear anything until a hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped.

“Oh my god! Damn it, Uncle Steve, you scared me.”

Steve just chuckled and then he reached over and ruffled Tony’s hair. “You don’t look like you’ve slept in a while, kid. What are you building?”

“A robot -- well, a learning helper bot. You know so it can hand me tools or hold something steady. Maybe fetch things too.”

Steve didn’t say anything as he looked around at everything that Tony had out on the table. His tools and the parts he was using for the body of the robot. He smiled, his weird smile that seemed a mixture of sad and surprised and that always made Tony think that Steve knew more than he let on. Tony had never really noticed it when he was growing up and Steve was just always around, but then it had started appearing more and more often and it was always when Tony said or showed him something new.

“That’s -- that’s amazing, Tones.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m a genius remember.”

Steve chuckled. “For a genius, you still haven’t figured out that you need to get some sleep. Come on, this can wait. I brought food and you can tell me all about your robot. Then, you’re going to bed.”

“Are you staying?”

Steve nodded.

Tony grinned. He hadn’t seen Steve since he’d left for school back in September and it hadn’t been for long because of some work related thing on Steve’s end, so Tony was glad to let his uncle throw an arm around his shoulders and start asking about the semester and Rhodey and if Tony had bothered to make any new friends. He also nudged him and teased him about girls and then with an eyebrow wiggle.

“Or boys? Have you met any nice boys?”

“Uncle Steve! I don’t--”

“Okay, fine, fine. I know you’re all focused on your degrees.”

Howard Stark wasn’t easy to deal with. Tony had sort of avoided dealing with him for years due to his time at boarding school and then MIT where he didn’t have to think about his father unless someone directly asked him if he was that Stark. Rhodey sort of put a stop to all of that, though. Rhodey was the best thing to happen to Tony. For a while, Tony had fancied himself in love with James Rhodes, but not only was Rhodey not gay -- but he was more of a big brother. The best big brother and even better friend.

It was hard letting go of his best friend after graduation. Rhodey was off to follow his dream of being in the Air Force and Tony was sort of stuck with the path that had been carved out for him by the legacy of Howard Stark. Stark Industries would be his one day and his father wanted him to know the company inside and out. Tony didn’t really mind the R & D department. He minded even less getting to really work on the projects that he’d been jotting ideas down on for years. The only problem was that his dad wanted him to work on weapons. That was after all the main thing that Stark Industries was known for. Other things had been introduced, sure, but the main thing was the contract with the US Military.

“You can have your flights of fancy when you run this company, but until then, I need you to work on what I deem important,” his dad said over dinner one night.

Uncle Steve was sat next to Tony and Aunt Peggy across from them. Tony hated when his dad brought things like that up around Steve because he knew Steve would then spend a while arguing with his dad about it later. It always went like that.

For as long as Tony had been aware, Steve had been fighting Howard on anything to do with Tony. Steve had even tried to stop Howard from sending him to boarding school at one point.

“Dad, I’m not saying I won’t work on the new missiles. I’m just saying that there are other markets to explore. Robotics is--”

“No one is buying robots, Anthony.”

“Well, no, but that’s not--”

Steve coughed. “Howard,” he said, “when is your next expedition?”

Aunt Peggy’s fork dropped on her plate. “Sorry. Clumsy fingers.”

“In a month,” Howard said. “I have high expectations for this one. He has to be out there somewhere. Now that we’ve found Barnes -- well, I have hope that he’s alive as well.”

They were talking about Captain America. Tony kind of hated whenever the topic came up. Maybe less so than talking about work these days, but it was still kind of annoying to remember that throughout most of his childhood his father’s attention had been split three ways -- with finding Captain America, Stark Industries, and Shield. Tony wasn’t supposed to know about Shield, but he did, and with those three things in Howard Stark’s mind there had never been much room for Tony.

“You’re so sure,” Steve said and that smile was back again.

Looking at Steve always felt a bit weird to Tony. He looked the same always. Unlike his mother and father and even Aunt Peggy who all looked like they’d aged over the years, Steve just didn’t. It was eerie. Tony remembered asking him once and Steve had given him the same smile and shrugged.

“Good genes, I guess. And sunscreen, Tones. Always use sunscreen.”

“Hey, if Peggy can spare you, I wouldn’t mind another hand on deck,” Howard said. “Might give us some good luck. It was you that found Barnes, after all.”

Tony didn’t know who Barnes was or what that had to do with anything, but he figured it was probably Shield related.

“No can do. Kind of busy this time around.”

“Well, when I find him then I won’t give you any of the credit.”

Peggy laughed. “If you find him,” she said and there was a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Steve coughed again, but he smiled at Tony before taking a sip of water.

Peggy liked to poke fun at how invested Steve was in technology. It was just that google and JARVIS and FRIDAY had become such a big part of his life in the future and he hadn’t even considered how strange it would be to not have any of it. To not be able to pull out the newest Stark phone out of his pocket to check the weather or the news or much of anything at all. Granted, there was something to be said about reading a newspaper or picking up an actual book and experiencing things in real time.

So there were some pros and cons. Mostly, though, it made him more excited every time something new happened and new advancements were made. It was just a little difficult to get too excited when they still weren’t what he’d been used to, but being friends with Howard Stark made up for that because no matter what the newest thing was in the world, he was a few steps ahead. He wasn’t the genius that Tony was in the future and maybe that was due to the era or due to Howard’s attention being split between Shield and finding Captain America, but Steve just didn’t see the same drive in Howard or the same need to invent and create that fueled Tony. He did see how Howard pushed Tony and he stepped in where he could to make things easier for Tony. Most of the time, he thought that he did help.

When he arrived in 1970 to return the Tesseract, entirely aware that he’d left it for last, Steve hadn’t exactly planned on remaining in 1970. It was just that he’d gotten caught up in the moment of returning it and then he had promptly been caught by Peggy of all people.

She took one look at him, paled, and punched him.

Her punch didn’t do much to him, but it still came as a surprise and then she just stared at him.

“You’re not -- you can’t be--” she shook her head, her eyes filled with tears and she pressed a hand to her quivering lips.

“It’s me, Peggy. It’s Steve,” Steve told her and he knew he’d screwed up. But at least he’d gotten all the stones back to where they belonged which had been a task that Steve hadn’t actually prepared for, which meant that the timeline was safe. That mattered more than anything.

“How?” Peggy asked.

Steve let out a breath. “It’s a long story.”

“I have some time,” Peggy said.

Steve didn’t really think that he did, but her eyes stared at him with so much shock and awe and she was Peggy and he couldn’t just walk away. It had been hard enough when he and Tony were there before and he’d seen her only through some blinds. Having her in front of him was entirely different.

“Probably best no one find out I’m here,” Steve said.

She grabbed his hand without haste. “My office, then.”

As they walked, Steve was reminded that this was Shield and that already it had been infiltrated by Hydra. That it was possible that Hydra within Shield was already using The Winter Soldier for its cause.

Her office was just as he remembered it from when he’d been hiding in it the first time he was in 1970. Peggy closed and locked the door and then closed the blinds too. She turned on the light, only then, and the moment settled over them.

The last time that Steve saw Peggy was sometime in 2016 and she hadn’t even really recognized him -- her mind so gone that it was lucky she allowed her nurse to give her her medication. She had been wrinkled and her hair had been white, barely contrasting on her pillow. There had been a tired aura about her and Steve had known that at 98, Peggy was holding on but barely. She died a few months later peacefully in her sleep. Steve cried when he got the call and yet there was relief too because she deserved to rest after the very long life she led.

This Peggy in front of him was still young -- but not as young as he’d known her before the ice. This was a Peggy that had lived twenty five years since Steve went in the ice. She was shrewd and smart and her eyes watched him with a mixture of disbelief and wariness.

“Tell me,” she said.

Steve couldn’t like to her, but he couldn’t tell her everything.

“I’m -- well, I’m Steve Rogers. I’m from the future.”

“From the future,” she repeated.

He told her about being frozen in ice -- about being found in 2011 and finally waking up. How he’d lived in the future for over a decade until circumstances -- and he didn’t divulge what those were -- allowed for the discovery of time travel.

“And you came back?” she whispered. “Now? Why now?”

It was easy to tell that she thought that he’d come back for her. The picture on her desk of him scrawny and short and so full of a need to prove himself was just feet away from them and Steve knew without a doubt that Peggy still loved him -- still cared. Well, when he’d seen her for the first time in 2013 she’d let him know that she still loved him -- always would because love was many things and she could love him and still fall in love with someone else. She could still move on. In 1970 she was married already. She had kids.

“I was returning something,” Steve said. “I shouldn’t tell you anything more about that. I--”

“Prove to me that you’re him. Prove to me that you’re actually Steve and not some…well, I don’t know, some sort of imposter.”

He showed her the compass and the cut out of her picture. “And I guess, I’m late, but how about that dance?”

In the future -- well, in 2011, Steve had been given a file about Peggy. Her accomplishments and how she and Howard Stark founded Shield in his honor. He remembered Coulson making a joke about how Shield was technically an acronym.

“But...I mean, someone really did want it to spell Shield.”

In the file he received there a mention was also made of her husband and her kids. It had taken Steve two full years before he could convince himself to go see her after reading all of that. It had helped to know she was happy and that her life continued on even after he was gone. Her life and her family -- her kids -- it wasn’t something he wanted to mess with and yet she looked at him like she would have gladly dropped everything for him.

Peggy laughed and they danced right in her office. Her hand was pressed against his and her cheek ended up on his shoulder. She was warm and beautiful and Steve loved her. Would always love her. But there was a ring on her finger already and she was a mother, too. Loving her changed none of that not to mention that they were entirely different people than the ones that had been young and in love.

As tempting as it was, Steve didn’t kiss her, even if for a small moment, she looked like she wanted him to. She seemed to understand and as their dance ended and she pulled away, Steve felt oddly like he didn’t belong. He kind of really didn’t.

“You’re not staying, are you?” Peggy asked.

Steve shook his head. “I -- I shouldn’t. I can’t…”

In 2023 they had just saved the universe. They had just made things right even if it had cost them Tony. It had only been a few days since the funeral and standing by that lake as Tony’s first arc reactor floated away. They had fought Thanos less than a week ago and Steve had volunteered to take the stones with some crazy idea that the future they saved didn’t need him anymore and yet the 1970s didn’t really need him either. Peggy didn’t. She had a husband -- a family. He’d only be in the way and--

The phone on her desk rang.

It rang again.

They both glanced at it and then Peggy moved, picking it up as she leaned against the desk. He watched her as she listened to the phone and then her lips quirked up into a smile. “I will let everyone know. Yes, yes, of course, Howard. I’ll take care of everything. Don’t you worry about any of it just focus on Maria.”

She hung up and turned back to Steve. “Howard’s wife’s gone into labour,” she said.

Tony. Steve’s breath caught.

“What date is it?” he asked.

“May 26, 1970,” Peggy said, peering at him curiously.

“His birthday is on the 29th,” Steve said before he could stop himself.

Suddenly, the last thing he wanted to do was leave. Back in his time Tony was gone, but in 1970 his life was just beginning and Steve couldn’t leave him -- couldn’t not be there for him. Not when he knew that Tony’s childhood wouldn’t be the best, and not when he knew that his adulthood wouldn’t be all that great either. And Steve could change it. He could make it better and--

Peggy interrupted his train of thought.

“Did you know him?” Peggy asked. “In the future? Howard’s son?”

Steve nodded. “Best person I know. Knew. A true hero.”

Peggy cocked her head, surprised. “You knew him well? You were his friend?”

He’s my friend.

So was I.

“Yeah. By the end, I think that was true.”

Steve didn’t really mean to stick around after tagging along with Peggy to meet the newest Stark a few days later, but seeing Tony in the flesh -- all brand new and so small and perfect -- it made him lose all his reasons for needing to leave because Tony needed him more.

Maria Stark looked at Tony like he brightened her entire world. He sort of did the same for Steve. A world without Tony Stark was colorless and full of shadows.

If Maria or Howard thought it odd that Peggy brought him along to meet their new son, neither voiced any concern. Peggy introduced him as Steven Grant, a good friend. She was also the one to pass him newborn Tony who felt like the most fragile and beautiful thing that Steve had ever gotten to behold.

Steve knew at once that he couldn’t leave. Not when Tony’s tiny fist was on his hand and when his eyes opened into slits and they were the warm brown that Steve remembered well.

Later, when Peggy had taken him to one of the Shield safe houses, she fixed him with a long look. “So, should I set up a fake identity?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. You should.”

Peggy kissed his cheek and after a long moment spoke again: “I guess we both moved on, then?”

It never occured to Steve that he could move on to a time when Tony was alive and older or that his very presence would change everything. He just wanted to do better by Tony in any way he could and if that meant being at his side from the start then that’d be the way.

When Tony was twenty three and Steve had been in the past for twenty three years -- a constant in Tony’s life even as he helped Peggy fix other things like Bucky and Hydra within Shield and all other little things, Tony figured out who he was.

“You’re him, aren’t you?”

“Him who?” Steve asked.

They were in Tony’s lab at the house in New York and Steve had shown up to surprise Tony, as he tended to do, but Tony had stared at him for a long while.

“Him. Captain America. You’re him.”

Steve didn’t know how to respond. No one was supposed to have figured that out -- least of all Tony.

“I--”

“Well, see the thing is dad went on another expedition. This is like his fourth one this year and even mom is getting sick of it. But anyway, I was helping him look through all the stuff he hides in his office upstairs and I saw a few pictures. They’re in black and white but...but they’re you. So, it’s you, right? You’re Captain America.”

“Tony that’s--”

Tony stepped closer, poking a finger into Steve’s chest. “You look the same as you have all my life and your name is Steven Grant which isn’t too far from Steven Grant Rogers. You told me once your mom’s name was Sarah which is the same as his mom. You’re blond, you’re built, and pictures don’t lie...not to mention that you and Aunt Peggy are super close and I know she was in love with him so this isn’t all that far fetched even if it doesn’t make sense that you’d just--”

Lying to Tony had always been the problem. Keeping this secret had been necessary and important, but looking at the man that he had seen grow up from a tiny baby, he just smiled and nodded.

“Knew it!”

“I think there’s a story I have to tell you, Tony. One of the few I haven’t told you,” he said.

There was a sofa in one corner of the room entirely due to the fact that Tony spent too much time in his lab. Steve was sure that Tony slept on it sometimes, even. He led Tony there and Tony allowed it.

When Tony was a child, Steve had been the first to offer to babysit. To the point that Maria had found it a little strange that a man like Steve would be so interested in her child.

Being there for Tony when Howard wasn’t had been easy. Peggy had made it easier. Becoming Maria’s friend and showing his love for Tony had been easy -- especially easy once he decided to come clean to Maria.

Afterwards, Maria had hugged him for a long time. “You love him that much. My Anthony?”

“I’d be a fool not to. He’s special. Important. Of course I love him.”

“And Howard must never know,” she’d said.

So, Steve had been there to tell Tony stories for years and years. Sometimes they were true -- stories about The Avengers and Iron Man and Black Widow. He told Tony stories about Thor and Asgard. He changed a few things, made up some, and Tony loved all of them. He always wanted more. As he grew older, he often demanded to know why Steve didn’t write all the stories down and get them published. When he found out that Steve could draw, he tried to push Steve to write comic books.

Steve refused -- not sure how that would change the world. Eventually Tony relented on pushing it, especially when Steve kept telling him more stories.

“A story?” Tony asked.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, about the greatest hero the world has ever known.”

Tony groaned. “I don’t know if Captain America is all that.”

Steve burst out into laughter. “No. No, he’s really not. No, I’m talking about Iron Man.”

“That fictional character you came up with when I was a kid?”

Steve shook his head. “Not fictional. He was a friend -- Earth’s best defender. A Hero through a through. I didn’t do right by him, not for a long time. See, it’s a bit more complicated than asking if I’m Captain America because I haven’t been that for a long time. Twenty five years to be exact. And the guy your dad is looking for -- he’s in the ice somewhere off the Artic.”

Tony frowned. “That doesn’t--”

“No interruptions, Tony.”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“The truth is that I’m from a different reality -- an alternate universe. In it, I woke up from the ice in 2011 and I met everyone I’ve ever told you about including Iron Man. We didn’t get along. In 2018 something horrible happened and in 2023 we made things right. The only way to do that was to go back in time.”

“Time travel is impossible,” Tony said at once. “Time is happening all at once and it just would never work -- you’d never be able to change anything in the past of affect the future even if you could go back in--”

“Any changes ripple into new realities,” Steve said, cutting in, amazed that this same person would one day discover how to make time travel work.  

“And what, you got stuck here? You couldn’t go back to 2023?”

Steve weighed his words. He didn’t want to tell Tony that he was dead in Steve’s original timeline -- that Tony’s death had left him so distraught that he’d clung to the first Tony he’d met in his travels.

“No. Well, we used the time travel to fix what happened, but then I had to return to put a few artifacts back. Your Aunt Peggy caught me in 1970 a few days before you were born. Seeing her again was -- I did love her once so deeply that I think none of the rest of the world or the people mattered to me while I grieved never getting to be with her.”

“So you stayed for her? Why didn’t you go back to after the war -- after you’d gone in the ice when she was still--”

Steve settled him with a look and he trailed off.

“Because of you,” Steve said.

“Me?”

The silence echoed between them. Tony didn’t seem to know what to think, but his brain was trying to figure it out and put it all together and Steve knew him so so well that he knew eventually he’d figure it out on his own.

“Thing is, I knew you in the future,” Steve said.

“Me,” Tony said and then after a moment, “2011, you said -- I’d be forty one. How did we -- is dad still around? Did he find you, is that why?”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “In my reality, your parents died in 1991. I -- I stopped that from happening in this one. But you let the funding for my search keep going and that made a difference in finding me in 2011.”

Tony looked confused and shocked and Steve knew that a part of Tony thought the whole thing was crazy. He seemed unsure as to what to focus on, but Steve just wanted to keep going. It was probably better if Tony didn’t remember all the details exactly.

“We didn’t get along,” Steve said. “I think because of your dad and how much he missed while you were growing up while he was searching for me and because I judged you in my grief for the past. I didn’t see you -- I saw the persona. You are so different from him, Tones. But then, not at all. It’s kind of amazing.”

“What do I call that bot?”

Steve smiled and looked back at Tony’s work. “I -- I don’t know which one came after Dum-E.”

“There’s more?”

“One more. You have three. Dum-E, Butterfingers, and U.”

Tony laughed. He ran a hand through his hair and then his eyes landed on Steve again, staring at him. “But why would you stay for me? If we didn’t even like each other--”

Steve shook his head and he turned so he could look at Tony better. Every day he looked more and more like the man that Steve had first met. He was so young still, though, no wrinkles in sight and no signature facial hair. Steve loved him with everything -- in every way. Watching Tony grow up and become the person he was meant to be had been everything, especially when he got to help him and make things easier and better.

“At first we didn’t get along. Then, we worked together and we became friends. But we fought and I hated it -- I hated that and myself for that for so long. I cared about that version of you so much and I didn’t realize how much until it was--” he stopped and Tony gasped.

“I’m dead, then. In the future -- that’s why you stayed. Because I’m dead and you figured if you stayed you’d get a replacement Tony and--”

Steve reached for him, grabbing his wrist to stop him from leaving. He shook his head. “No. No, Tony. That’s not it. Everything that happened to me and to my Tony -- it happened because of me. Because I wasn’t there when it counted and when that Tony needed me and now he’s -- he’s gone. I never meant to stay anywhere. It just happened when I saw you -- baby newborn you -- and I had this idea that I could just stop all the bad things from happening again. At least, what I could stop.”

Tony was staring down at where Steve held his wrist and he frowned and then looked back up at Steve. “You loved him. Really loved him, didn’t you?”

Steve nodded. He didn’t have words.

“Oh. And me...I’m--”

“It’s different. You’re not him and I never expected you to be. You’re you and it’s different. I love you, Tones, but that’s because you’re family. I’ve known you since you were a baby.”

Tony let out a sigh. “Okay. Okay. Good. Because it would have been weird if--”

It had taken a long time for Steve to realize that he loved Tony Stark -- his Tony Stark -- and that him staying to watch over baby Tony Stark was due to the love he felt for the other Tony. They were two different kinds of love but to Steve it didn’t matter, not as long as he got to see Tony live a happy life.

Howard actually managed to find Captain America in the ice a couple years later and Tony took an interest in helping him settle in. There was curiosity for this other version of Steve who was clearly younger and very different. Steve watched from afar and gave his advice to one and both.

When Tony showed up at his house a little bit drunk and a lot emotional some months after his 28th birthday, looking like the whole world was ending, Steve pulled him into a hug and then prepared him some coffee before asking him what happened.

“I -- I’m -- Steve, I don’t know what to do.”

“About what exactly? Is this to do with Howard, because…”

“No. No. I -- I kissed someone today.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You kiss a lot of people. I mean, I don’t read the tabloids but even I can’t avoid all of that.”

Tony shook his head. “No. No, Uncle Steve. It’s not -- none of that has ever mattered. You know that.”

“I do. So, what’s the problem?”

“I -- I kissed Steve. You. The other you.” He buried his head in his hands and groaned. “Oh my god, I’m the worst. I kissed a guy that is basically my uncle and then I freaked out and ran away and he...I don’t even know if he--”

Steve laughed and laughed and laughed for a while. He really wasn’t all that surprised. He’d seen the way that the other Steve looked at Tony -- how he went out of his way to spend time with Tony. He’d seen the way that Tony gravitated towards that other Steve as well. They were inevitable.

“If you’re worried about me -- well, don’t. I loved the Tony from my timeline and never realized or said anything or did anything about it and I regret that more than I regret most things. And we’re not the same -- me and other Steve. Don’t worry about me.”

Weeks later, when he saw them holding hands it was weird. It was always weird to see the other him. A bit younger, more hardheaded, but a little more stable and less mournful of the past. It helped that Peggy was still very much lucid and that she and the other Steve had gotten to have a few conversations about the past. Then there was Bucky, too, who was ready to help make things easier for that Steve as he learned what the future was about. Steve had spoken in length with himself -- using all the skills that Sam had pushed on him and the same that he’d used in those long five years when his only way of coping had been to try and help others move on.

He was glad to see Tony and Steve happy though. It was what could have been -- and what was.  

Steve had no idea what the future had for them -- he had no idea if Afghanistan would still happen and if Tony would still become Iron Man. Mostly, though, he knew that if they stuck together that they could deal with anything no matter what it was.

He hugged them both before he left, telling the other Steve to look after Tony and holding Tony just a little longer and tighter but not sure if there was anything that needed to be said.

“Thank you,” Tony whispered before he let go.

The last person he saw was Peggy. She had a lot of grey in her hair and she was aging beautifully. She was just about ready to retire from Shield officially to spend time with her grandkids. Nick Fury was already doing a lot of the running of Shield with her and it had been good to see another familiar face even if he still hadn’t been able to find out how Fury lost his eye. Not even Peggy knew.

“You’re leaving,” she said.

“He has another Steve to watch out for him now. I think it’s time.”

They hugged and Peggy made him dance with her again one final time. Then, Steve put on the suit he hadn’t worn since 1970 and he left because even though there wasn’t a Tony in his timeline in 2023, there were other people that needed him like the little girl that Tony had left behind...and Steve kind of liked the whole being an uncle thing.

[whiskeyworen]

Resolutions

"Cyrus? Are you up here?" Moryggan called, climbing the metal steps to the observation dome. She proceeded slowly, not wanting to intrude on anything if he wanted privacy.

It had been a few weeks since the end of Kralkatorrik. The Pact had celebrated their victory, buried their dead, and had begun truly aiding the still-unbalanced Kingdom of Elona. It would probably be many years before a true and fair balance would be ironed out between the various factions there, so it was still a hotbed for conflict. Given their lack of association to the Pact, Cyrus had pulled their ship, Forsaken Aspect, away from the fleet. There was nothing the Pact could do to stop them, other than protest; it's not like they could target the ship with their strictly manual cannons. Not with the Inquest cloaking device active on it. That, and the sheer destructive power the Aspect could return would have sunk damned near any of the first and second generation ships the Pact fielded. That's what happens when the ship you're facing contains illegal, auto-targetting, horrendously powerful weapons and more armor than three ships-of-the-line combined.

As the ship returned to the vicinity of Lion's Arch, each of the team had broken away to different parts of the ship, intent on their own things. Tenna had returned to her labs, buried in the belly of the ship, to study Forged gear, decode even more of Scarlet's files, and make her own advances in biology and technology unhindered by the Council.

Verula had gone down to the gun-decks to monitor the maintenance and upgrading of the ship's various weapons by the semi-autonomous servitors that were a crucial part of a ship the size of the Aspect. Though the servitors were intelligent enough and reliable enough in a pinch, they didn't innovate, which required someone with a true mind and a keenness for machinery to guide them. Both of which the matronly Charr was in spades.

No one knew what became of Vaela Toma, but no one particularly cared; her popping in-and-out of Mist rifts had become so commonplace that it was just assumed that if she disappeared somewhere, she'd come back some day.

So, out of the ship's small living crew, only Moryggan and Cyrus were left out of sorts. Neither one had much to do, but Moryggan had noticed how unsettled Cyrus was after Aurene had self-evolved/grown. Something about that fleeting touch they'd all felt had left him staring off into space.

To a degree, it worried her. As much as she tried to keep a professional distance from him, Moryggan was sylvari, and so was far more attuned to people's feelings than she cared to admit. When he'd disappeared after a meal, she'd gotten such a bad feeling that she simply had to find him and figure out why.

Which had led her here, to the stairs to the observation dome near the top of the ship. It had originally been designed as a kind of lookout post for when sensors were disabled, or as a primary star-finder for direction, but had been repurposed quickly as a kind of private getaway everyone used for some peace and quiet. This far up the ship's superstructure, you couldn't even feel the low hum of its power systems, the throb of the engines, or the hiss of the ventilators. It was... a quiet place.

There was no answer from the platform, so Moryggan stepped over to a monitor on the wall, clicking a button on it. "Aspect, are you sure he's up there?"

The Forsaken Aspect was a unique ship. She had a mind of her own, initially designed by the mad Scarlet, but refined and perfected by Tenna's technical genius and Verula's skill. She had a kind of consciousness of its own, and thankfully, was quite fond of its crew. So it was no surprise when Aspect replied to her question. "Yes, Miss Moryggan. Cyrus entered the dome approximately twenty-five minutes ago."

The golem eye embedded in the console rotated slightly to face her. "He has not left it. Is there anything wrong?"

Moryggan bit her lip. She didn't want to worry Aspect; the ship thought of Cyrus as something between a big brother and a father. Aspect was essentially a very large, very powerful, very innocent child. "I don't know, but I'm going to find out."

"Alright. Please let me know if you require anything further. I will send a watchwork servitor if you need anything." The golem eye retracted till it was flush with the wall, before going dark as Aspect turned her attentions elsewhere.

The sylvari mesmer turned away from the console and slowly ascended the stairway into the dome. As her head cleared floor-level, she could see him, sitting on the edge of the platform. The way the dome had been built was a kind of flying bridge, with a large platform hanging out in the space under the windows. Cyrus was sitting on the edge, his legs hanging off into the void, not even turning to look at her.

"Cyrus? What's up?" She asked cautiously, stepping closer to him. She didn't step up beside him; he hadn't even acknowledged her yet. But... suddenly she realized he wasn't wearing his usual gear, his armor and all his technical toys. His heavy leather coat, with its coolant systems and things she barely understood was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he seemed to be dressed in actual clothes. Street clothes. He never dressed that way. There might have been three or four times in the last few years that she'd ever seen him in anything other than his combat gear. Something about his determination to be prepared for anything, and his paranoia kept him from relaxing much at all, no matter how he'd acted in public. At least, that was the impression she'd gotten from him. On some level, it'd been reassuring to know there was someone always prepared, who was as suspicious as she was. She could trust that.

The summer hoodie he had on, simple pants and whatnot...it didn't seem like him at all. The only piece of tech he had on was the glider backpack; these days NO one who had one went anywhere without one. And the Dynamics college had come up with an absolutely perfect design; small and unobtrusive.

"....Cyrus?" She asked quietly. "Hmm?... Oh, hey Mory." Cyrus finally shook himself free of his reverie, glancing over his shoulder for a second. "Not much. Just... been thinking." "What about?" The sylvari stepped up behind him, before kneeling down. He'd never called her 'Mory' before, except when heavily drunk. And certainly not quite so pleasantly. "Is everything okay?" "Yeah. Everything is okay." He nodded. He lifted a hand, flexing his fingers slightly. There was still a tingle there he couldn't shake. From that psychic touch. When Aurene 'spoke' to him. "I'm... trying to figure out something. I don't know..." "Is there anything I can do to help?" She asked, scooting closer. She no longer could feel the sense of doom he'd been giving off at dinner, but there was something else. A sadness. "No." He replied. Then he paused, thinking. "At least, I don't know." "You don't know?"He turned slightly to look over his shoulder at her. With his eye, surrounded by the unnatural marking he'd been 'gifted', he carefully watched her face, her expression, taking it in. Taking in the worry in her eyes. The glow of the scar on her own face; it always struck him as coincidental that they both had facial scarring after a fashion, on the same side. Made things a bit more familial, in a sense. "....When was the last time you talked to your Mother, Mory?" He asked softly. At the mention of the Pale Tree, he saw her pupils tighten in anxiety, and her minty glow pulse faster as her heart suddenly accelerated. She took a breath, trying to calm herself, though her scar's bright glow belied the controlled expression on her face. "Not since Lion's Arch fell. I couldn't face her after... after that thing tried to take control of me." She didn't elaborate beyond that. There was pain, and shame hidden under the flat manner of her speech. It was too carefully said, too well enunciated to be entirely truthful. Cyrus knew neither of them believed she could say something like that so simply and not feel anything. He let the silence hang for a moment, before sighing. "I need to... I need to talk to her. But I don't know if I can do it. Or if I'd even be permitted to talk to her." "The Mother does meet with travellers, you know." Moryggan pointed out. "She's not exactly hard to meet." "But she might refuse to speak to me, Mory." His mouth twisted. "I was an Aetherblade, remember. I helped Ceara.... Scarlet. Both of them. She might not forgive me for being responsible for what happened to Ceara. Or what Scarlet did." Moryggan smiled softly, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Cyrus... Do you know the teachings of Ventari? The ones most of my kind try to live by?" "Kind of. I tend to forget some of them though." He shrugged, and they both chuckled. "The second teaching is 'Do not fear difficulty. Hard ground makes stronger roots'. And the Fourth is 'All things have a right to grow. The blossom is brother to the weed'." She smiled weakly. "Between the two, it means that self-determination is key, no matter the outcome, and that we get stronger through difficulty, because we learn. We can forgive." She sat down on the rim beside him, patting him on the forearm. "The Pale Tree will always grieve when one of her children dies, or turns to evil. But she is also capable of the greatest forgiveness. At least, that's what I believe." "Then why haven't you gone home and talked with her?" He asked heavily, his eyes shadowed with sadness. "She would probably forgive you, right?" Moryggan's smile faded slightly, and she looked out of the dome windows, considering. "...Because even though she would forgive me, welcome me back with open arms and branches... On some level, I can't forgive myself." She sighed. "I thought I was a strong person. Physically. Mentally. Perfectly strong and controlled, and damned proud of it. And then..." She grimaced, reaching up to rub her scar. "Then that thing... Mordremoth... just walked into my mind and nearly crushed me. If it wasn't for you, I'd..." Cyrus watched her, seeing that pain again. He reached out to pat the hand she had on his arm. "Then, I think we need to go home, Mory. At least, to your home. I need to talk to your Mother, and... I think you need to have a chat with her yourself." Moryggan nodded slowly, exhaling heavily. "Yeah. It's time to go home. I-I need to tell her what's happened. To me." "Yeah. And I need to tell her things. Important things." Cyrus added. "If I'm lucky, she won't have me thrown in the jail." He pulled both of them to their feet and gestured for the stairs. "Let's go. We'll be in L.A. in a few hours." As they descended the stairs together, the monitor on the wall activated, the eye blinking on. Aspect called out to them. "Miss Moryggan? Cyrus? Do you need anything?" "No, Aspect, thank you. But if you could chart for the usual docks in Lion's Arch? We'll be spending a few days on ground travel from there. Please let the others know as well, when they have the time." "Acknowledged, Cyrus. Making course change for the Lighthouse dock as per your order. Maintain Illusion matrix?" "Yep. Make us look like a merchant airship, and adjust trim and docking ports to compensate. Make sure there's plenty of room around us so no one collides with the illusion." "Aye aye, sir." Aspect replied cheerifully, before signing off. **** It did not take long. Once they were docked in Lion's Arch, the two of them paid transit through the Asura gate to the Grove, and were there by nightfall. They rented a room-pod in the lower levels of the Grove, where the night air was filled with luminescent pollen and the whisper of soft leaves. It was actually quite beautiful, peaceful even. While Moryggan visited old companions for the day, Cyrus had wandered the halls and chambers, chatting with curious Saplings and laughing at their innocence. It was refreshing to say the least. When they got back together in the evening, Moryggan had some surprising news. "I talked to some of the Wardens, and they got word to their leaders; we've...we've got an appointment to see the Pale Tree tonight." She looked quite embarassed, face suffused with glow. In a small voice, she added. "Mother apparently cleared her other meetings just for us." That filled Cyrus's veins with a sudden dose of icewater. There's no way they should have been granted a meeting that fast, or with that kind of response. It wasn't... normal. How many ambassadors did she just piss off, to meet with us? He asked himself, trying to hide the shock on his face. "Well... Uh... I guess we should go meet her as soon as we can then?" He replied, unsure. ****

They stood before the final seed elevator before the Tree's Omphalos chamber, and every instinct in his body told Cyrus to flee. He glanced upward to the Tree's immense branches, all the various levels and platforms. The soft, pink and purple-hued petals on the long, smooth vine that swirled down from the core in the farthest reaches. It shifted softly in the night breeze, the petals seeming to gesture upward, though that had to be an illusion.

She's three miles tall, twenty miles across if you include the roots, houses an entire city in her boughs...and she wants to see us. Cyrus mulled over in his mind with incredulity. Beings like the Pale Tree weren't supposed to care for the meanderings of mere mortals, at least that's what he'd always thought. "I...don't know if this was such a good idea, Mory."

"Last minute misgivings?" She chided him, giving him a shakey smile. "If me being here can get you to go up there, maybe you being here can get me to go up there. What do you think?"

"....Deal." He nodded, and sat uneasily in one chamber of the seed pod. Moryggan took the other half, the leaf/door raised, and a gust of magic gently blew the seed up through the many supporting platforms of the tree to the Omphalos chamber.

Safely in place, the door flipped open again, and the two travellers carefully stepped out onto the lush, soft, green grass platform suspended near the top of the tree. Looking around, Cyrus realized he could see no Wardens around; from what he'd heard from Moryggan and other sylvari, the Pale Tree's avatar was attended by at least a squad at all times. Did she dismiss them? He couldn't see them with his cursed Discernment eye; they weren't hidden under Mesmer magic anywhere nearby.

"Come. Please come here." A soft voice called. It sounded like it was right beside them, but both of them knew it was the Tree herself projecting her voice to guide them to her Avatar. "I am always happy to have visitors, and, I think, the two of you are long overdue?"

There was a playfulness to her tone that made Cyrus unconsciously smile. An immensely powerful, massive entity, and she was making jokes. There was something ... likeable about that. It clearly carried on in her children, since he'd spent the afternoon having good laughs with Saplings and Menders.

"Hello, Pale Tree." Cyrus knelt respectfully. "I'm afraid I don't know if there's a title I should refer to you by, like I would with Queen Jennah or the Imperator."

"...Mother." Moryggan knelt as well, closing her eyes. "I am... home." The Pale Tree's glowing avatar stepped forward gracefully, her bare feet not leaving impressions in the grass as it gently parted of its own accord around her descending step. She laid a hand on each of their shoulders. "Greetings to you both, visitor, and child. Cyrus Sigismund, and Moryggan Deraleth. I have been expecting you for some time."

With but a touch, she guided them back to their feet. "I had hoped, children, that you would have talked to me far sooner than now." She tilted her head, the movement causing a release of glowing pollen from the flower that made up her 'hair'. "I am curious as to why it took so very long?"

They looked between each other, unsure, before Cyrus rubbed his gloved hands together. "...I was unsure if I would be welcomed, Pale Tree. I don't know if you know, but, I was a...friend... of Ceara's."

The Tree's ersatz eyes widened in surprise, but she merely nodded.

"...I was also a friend of Scarlet's." He added more leadenly. It was hard to meet her eyes, but he forced himself to. "I was with her as she started to descend to madness. I...was forced out and away from her when she became too unstable. But I had one final chat with her before the destruction of her machine in Lion's Arch."

The glow suffusing the Omphalos seemed to fade a little, dimming for a mere moment before rising back to its usual glow. The Pale Tree looked at him, pain and sorrow in her eyes, but also compassion. So much compassion that it was so very hard to look her in the face. She reached out to touch his cheek, gently, so he wouldn't look away in shame. "...What of my daughter then, Cyrus? I grieve for her daily, but I take solace in that she has been freed of her madness. If you have any news for me that the others have not brought me..."

Cyrus reached up and held the hand against his face. He knew the Avatar wasn't truly a physical thing, but however she managed it, her hand felt so real. It was like the softest leaf he'd ever felt, but one with a pulse. It was warm, and welcoming. It really felt like a Mother's touch, and it broke his heart. In spite of his control, he felt a tear slip from his eye. "...She was sorry. She had had the best intentions, but... the damage done to her had twisted those intentions. What she did... was not...what she'd meant to do in the first place."

He wiped the tear away. "She had wanted to protect you. Protect all of you, and all of us. But... what he did, even with his sleeping mind..." Cyrus's face collapsed into sorrow. "She wasn't Mordrem. But he'd devastated her mind just by touching it. She'd resolved to kill him at all costs but along the way, she forgot what her goal had been. The damage he'd done had slowly erased her goals. The denials and declines she'd gotten from the other nations ate at her mind. She..."

"I know." The Mother cut him off gently. She held his head in both hands, and lowered her forehead to touch his. "Even though she had cut her ties with me, defied my pleas for caution and stepped beyond the mental shield I put up to keep my children safe... I realize she was trying to fight back." She stroked his hair as more tears flowed from him. "At no point did she ever turn her weapons against the Grove."

"The machine. The Breachmaker." Cyrus grated out. "It was meant to kill the Beast. Not feed it. She knew at the end that she had screwed up badly. She was so terribly, terribly sorry about that, but unable to do anything about it. Not at that point. Not with the Pact at her neck, and not with her madness tearing at her. She could have escaped, but she chose not to. She knew...there had to be some justice. Some peace."

"Cyrus. Thank you." The Pale Tree stepped back, smiling sadly, and gave his cheek one last touch. "I can sense how much you grieve for her. For Ceara and Scarlet both. I can see how much her pain hurt you. And how much of a friend you were to her, no matter what she did. Thank you for that."

"As you say." Cyrus rasped, throat tight with emotion. He wobbled slightly, unstable with such a powerful release of emotion; the pain, the memories, and the sad, wonderful, freeing feeling of confession. He glanced over at Moryggan, and was shocked to see tears streaming down her face as well. "Moryggan..."

"Daughter." The Pale Tree turned her attention to the rose-skinned sylvari. "You share his pain so openly. I remember you as a Sapling, always hiding your emotions, or at least trying to." She smiled. "There were times you wore your heart on your sleeve. In the past, you would never admit to feeling compassion for others, though I always know you did."

She tapped the side of her head, winking playfully. "The Dream tells much, especially of our inner selves. But it seems you have your own story to tell me."

Moryggan blinked, tears still staining her cheeks, before bowing her head in shame. "I'm sorry, Mother. I... I am ashamed. I was weak. If it weren't for Cyrus, and by extension, Scarlet Briar, I'd have been..."

She paused, searching. She was almost shaking, now that she was in front of her mother. The words just wouldn't come.

Then she felt someone touch her arm. Cyrus reached out and was giving her arm a gentle stroke. I was there for him.... He said he'd be there for me. She reminded herself, drawing strength from it.

"Mother... If it wasn't for Cyrus, and the things he'd gotten from Scarlet, I'd have ended up one of the Crazed. One of the Mordrem, probably. " She raised her head, staring with haunted eyes at her mother. "The Dragon... he didn't just reach into my mind. H-he crushed it underfoot. Tried to crush me. But for Cyrus, I-I...." In one fluid movement, the Pale Tree drew upon her, wrapping her arms around her daughter and burying her in the glowing petals of her body. She crooned to her lost daughter, whispering loving words and encouragement, while Moryggan broke down into grateful sobs. She clung to the Pale Tree's avatar tightly, releasing all that pent up pain, misgiving, and shame.

Cyrus stood there, watching silently but wanting to reach out to his teammate. The Pale Tree cuddled her child gently, as a mother should. She glanced at him, making eye contact. The look in her eye said it all, but she verbalized it anyway. "Thank you once again, Cyrus. You bring me sad but welcome news of my long lost daughter, but you also saved one of my daughters from the clutches of the Beast. I have many children, but each one of them is dear to me, and you have returned one to me I had thought I would not see again." She stroked Moryggan's frond hair gently, before laying a soft kiss on her scar. "Welcome home, Moryggan. Know this; you will always be welcome here in the Grove, in the Dream. We are always here for you... I am here for you, if you wish it."

"Thank you.... Mother." Moryggan said shakily, reluctantly drawing back from the Tree's embrace. "I am no longer afraid to come back... no longer ashamed..."

The Tree nodded and turned to Cyrus, raising an eyebrow. "And you, Cyrus?"

He smiled a little and shrugged. "I honestly thought I was going to end up in your jail for being associated with Scarlet. So...walking out of here and still being allowed to visit the Grove is more than I might hope for."

That made the Tree laugh, a pleasant, melodious sound. "Cyrus, you aren't going to end up in my jail. There is no crime you have committed here. If anything, you are to receive a boon if I can come up with one, for what you have done."

He shook his head. "I don't need medals or titles. If you permit us to trade and offer materials and other things, that would be more than enough." Cyrus crossed his arms. "That is, if you'd be willing."

"Tell you what." The Tree smirked a bit, gliding back to a patch of glowing grass and settling down on it. She reached out and patted the ground, a trail of luminescence sliding from her hand to light up two patches in front of her that seemed just the right size for the two of her visitors. "You and your associates can do business here so long as you don't deal in illegal or illicit goods, and you will be titled an honored guest of the Grove and of Myself... if you two will sit here and tell me your adventures."

She smiled, as they came and sat down on the grass, which wove itself into soft cushions at her thought. "I want to hear about everything you've done, why you did it, and everything else. Your friends... your family."

Cyrus chuckled a bit, and glanced over at Moryggan, who covered her mouth to hide her own chuckle. "Well... my story is going to take a long time, my Lady."

"That is quite alright!" The Tree replied primly, gesturing upward with one hand. From some other level, a vine swirled up, items balanced in its curls. With a flourish, it laid out an imported Krytan tea set, complete with hot tea and a service tray of assorted pastries. "I shall provide the confections if you provide the entertainment. And I have plenty of time."

They all had a good laugh at that, and Cyrus poured them all a cup of tea as he tried to explain his home... ---- Author note: I didn’t actually write this for the Writer’s Event for @tyrias-library but it might just fall under a bunch of the prompt guidelines anyway. If it’s not actually entered in it, that’s cool with me because it wasn’t planned that way. LoL. That said, enjoy. I’m still debating how close these two actually are. Or will become. It’s far too easy to write ships, but at the same time, it seems so appropriate. I’m also debating something with the Forsaken Aspect... time will tell of course. ;)

[mysticpenguincreation]

So I’ve watched (partially) leaked episodes of American Gods and there is no way I’m not gonna post about it.

Clear and explicit spoilers are under the cut, so read away at your own risk.

YOU’VE BEEN WARNED.

This is going to be mainly about the one and only, my love #1 Mad Sweeney.

Before I get down to business, I have to make some points clear.

1. In my opinion, AG is one of the BEST shows to grace our screens in many many long years, because:

It’s based on Neil Gaiman novel.

Storytelling is compelling.

Have you seen the editing? The lights and colors? The camera work?! This shit is AMAZING. There are few things I like more about the shows than good editing and visual aesthetics. And this right here? It’s pure pleasure.

The casting and acting is mind-blowing.

2. I know better than fixate on only one character, because the whole plot, the story in general is so much more than fate of one character (even if they’re the lead).

With that being stated in advance, I would like to clarify that AG is a complex story created through crossing paths of many different characters. It’s not about Mr. Wednesday, it’s not even about Shadow Moon and it’s sure as hell is not about Mad Sweeney.

But the latest was the reason why I was renewing AG and his tags this whole fucking week. So when THREE episodes (INCLUDED the one dedicated to Sweeney) were leaked in my country at three in the morning, I, tired from work and lack of sleep, naturally decided to give middle finger to my master’s thesis and watch them.

Unfortunately, I am no god and have basic human needs, so I’ve only watched parts regarding Sweeney, but I’m sure as hell watching whole episodes later.

And finally to the points:

Episode 2x05.

Sweeney thinking at first that Laura was an angel made me laugh so hard.

She was so fucking jealous of him, when he was flirting with this blonde girl! And then he looked right at Laura!!! He knew what he was doing and it was working!

He was so fucking jealous when this voodoo couple started to get sexy with Laura! Oh how he didn’t like it!

Let me tell you, this scene made me hot all over. He’s savage, huge and built like a brick wall. I’d climb this fine piece of fairy-godlike king any day any time.

At first I was disappointed because ‘THE HELL! So it was JUST the Horde and Sweeney’s deepest desires?! They’re gonna go and fuck different people’. I’d ideally prefer them to fuck each other, at the lack of better option this happening in an orgy, but to become swingers without actually having sex even once? C’mon guys! But my fears were in vain, eventually everything happened the way it should have happened.

Laura is so smol and Sweeney is HUGE. They’re outing my (enormous) size kink / height/built difference kink.

This scene was what I was anticipating since midseason 1 and I FINALLY GOT IT GODDAMIT!

First few seconds of ‘the morning after’ were just too damn hilarious.

Sweeney is not good at dealing with his shit, but Laura confirmed that she is way way worse. She didn’t know how to deal with him, this situation and her (or his for this matter) feelings anymore. So she fled and hurt my ginger giant bb in the process.

Episode 2x06.

There is no Laura or Sweeney in this one, so I skipped through it in like 5 min and understood next to nothing.

HOWEVER! This ep. featured my beautiful love #2 Tech Boy (a sight for sore eyes). In one of his recent interviews Bruce said that Tech Boy is a God of Technology, but technology can be many things. Like for our ancestors a sharp stone fixated on the end of the stick was already a technology. So maybe Tech Boy’s purpose is to renovate and update himself in accordance with the change of times. Maybe ithat’s what let him pass as the “New God”, when in reality he might be one of the oldest of the “Old Gods”. It’s an interesting theory and a glimpse of it is shown in ep. 6 through Tech Boy and Wednesday’s (!!!) common history, but in order to understand it I had to watch it, and now I have to prioritize and simply don’t have time for that. Though, my beautiful Tech Boy, I’m glad that you can show up at the most of unexpected of times and give me feels, when there’s not even one Sweeney within a mile.

Episode 2x07.

WHERE TO BEGIN!

In order to write this AND get some sleep I had to skip some parts of Sweeney’s story too, so please forgive me for any misunderstandings.

Of course I read all the theories based on what was in the book and how it correlated with the story in the show now. I was impatiently waiting and dreading this episode at the same time.

This ep. Sweeney was all about destruction and madness. More so than usual. He was unhinged and I loved him about it.

So much self-loathing. It was so brilliant I couldn’t watch it.

The fact that Sweeney couldn’t remember his own story was just plainly terrifying. When people loose faith in you and forget you it’s one thing. But when you loose faith in yourself so much that you can’t remember who you are anymore is depressing and legitimately scary.

He must have been freaking out of his fucking mind cause of constantly seeing Banshees. He might have told Shadow not to interfere, but he instantly knew that this time these women were crying for him.

I was happy to see that once, long long time ago he was loved. He knew what true happiness was. Even if we had to watch him fall so far (NOT HIS FAULT BY THE WAY).

I loved every single verbal drop about Sweeney caring for (possibility being nuts deep in love with) Laura:

How he couldn’t get it up for hot redheaded voodoo queen until she called him out on it.

How he was broken and laughing madly under this bridge about Laura leaving him AGAIN.

I hate Wednesday guts, but he saw right through Sweeney with this one eye of his. ‘She fucked you, broke your heart and left you’. Cruel, but hit too close to home.

Conversation with Salim. Sweeney: ‘It’s his fight, not yours. You don’t have to die. Just go and leave it all behind’. Salim: ‘No, I’m staying with him’. ‘Why?’ ‘I guess it’s what love is’. ‘Would he have done the same for you if the roles were reversed? What if someone ordered him to kill you? Would he have done that [while loving you]?’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Ugh, nothing. Forget it’. Like come on!!! This conversation takes place RIGHT AFTER Wednesday orders Sweeney to “finish his job” and kill Laura for good. Sweeney and Salim are talking about love and loved ones and what they would/wouldn’t have done for them! Sweeney’s implying Laura and love in one sentence! It’s the most explicit articulate closest to confession thing that we got from Sweeney aside from multiple defensive Fuck you’s said to different people and longing glances when she isn’t looking.

Little side note: Salim might be the sweetest person in the world but I wanted to punch him in the face so hard, when he said that it’s pointless to explain the concept of love to someone who’s never felt it. I know that Sweeney was never nice to him, but it’s rich coming from human to go and assume something about a creature that’s walked this Earth for centuries. You don’t know him well enough. So, please, kindly shut up.

(8) The bloodbath scene from times when Sweeney was a god once was just poetic cinema. I was SO looking forward to it when the trailer came out. Barbaric, savage, courageous, spear-throwing, ripping-out-throats-with-bare-teeth, crushing-skulls-with-bare-hands. Just the way I like them👌

(9) Sweeney with ass long red mane dressed in next to nothing but blue paint is the image that burnt into my mind and the reason I was living for.

(10) They fucking did it. They killed him. THEY BROKE ME.

Regarding Sweeney’s death I have QUITE A LOT OF THINGS TO SAY:

I knew it was coming but still hoped they wouldn’t go through with it. As much as it hurts, I respect this decision. Sometimes you have to do what you have to do and cut the cord. Sweeney’s death was in the book. It’s what was necessary for the story to move forward (see point 2 at the beginning of the post). It’s better this way than for his character to be dragged around the story just for fan service (as much as it pains me to admit it, BECAUSE I WANT THIS FAN SERVICE GODDAMIT!).

As far as I know in the book Shadow was indirectly involved in Sweeney’s death. It was honestly the redhead’s fault only. The way he went out was pathetic, so I’m glad that they changed it according with the development of tv character.

Shadow. You fucking gave your word. Not. To. Interfere. Fine, I get it, you’re Wednesday’s man, you have to protect him (even after Sweeney reveled the whole truth, seriously, Shadow?!), BUT DON’T GO POKE AT PEOPLE WITH A GIGANTIC POINTY STICK IF YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO ISE IT!!! I know it was an accident, he didn’t truly MEAN it, but maybe it even makes it worse.

This ‘I’m sorry’, I can’t even discuss it. Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it, Shadow!!!

I know that people say that Shadow’s speech at Sweeney’s wake is a beautiful part of the book, but with the way things turned out in the show, I don’t think that Shadow deserves to make this speech.

Sweeney, my bb went out like a fucking champ. Ruining old fart’s plans and taking the spear somewhere he can never reach it anymore. My hero ❤️ I hope Wednesday didn’t foresee it and it wasn’t another grand part of his plans. I want Sweeney to fuck him up good. He died because he didn’t want to be Wednesday’s bitch and I wouldn’t want him to be that especially in his death.

I wish Laura could see it with her own eyes. The last big FUCK YOU from Mad Sweeney.

In conclusion:

Mad Sweeney was barely on Old Gods’ side, I bet he would have gone minding his own business if it wasn’t for Wednesday’s debt.

With Sweeney gone now, fuck the Old Gods, I’m going to the New Gods’ side.

But at the same time Tech Boy is “deleted” or “fired” or whatever.

So basically now, I don’t really give a shit who wins now and who loses. They can kill each other until no one’s left, for all I care.

AG is still great and moving forward.

I’m still interested in the story, but I can’t bring myself to be invested anymore.

SIDE NOTES:

I know better than to hope, but I need a reaction out of Laura regarding Sweeney’s death.

It’ll probably never happen, but I hope Laura will crush Shadow’s nuts.

And spears Mr. Wednesday.

I wonder how Laura’s undead state will be affected now with Sweeney and his horde and his magic gone. Will his lucky coin work the same?

Laura is capable of surviving and protecting herself. She needs no one to do that for her. But Sweeney was ready to run to her, do anything for her as soon as she snapped her fingers. How much will it affect her? Will she appreciate him now?

I might have had some other notes, but I’ve tried for 2,5 hours to carefully and logically arrange this post without insulting any character TOO MUCH and now my brain’s exploding.

Please, feel free to talk to me about the FEELS, because I’m heartbroken and don’t know how to deal with it.

[connywrites]

of flesh and blood

parts [2], [3], [4], [5], [6], [7], [8], [9], [10], [11], [12], [13], [14]

-

“Weakness is a physical state calculated by a decrease in energy and-slash-or motor function ability. Your reaction to it as a negative psychological status and thus wanting to dismiss it in favor of your own aggression is what seems strange to me. It makes working with you difficult. Do you think all partners go through this process, or do you enjoy making it tedious and time-consuming for myself?”

Gavin stopped in place as he stared at the RK900, unsure of how to respond before his eyebrows lowered and he huffed. It wasn’t supposed to know he felt weak, especially not caught in action, but it seemed that was nothing got past a perfect computer.

“This isn’t about you and you shouldn’t give a shit what it takes to get something done or not.” RK900 considered the statement, LED blinking as its eyes scanned across the scene, looking for any other clues it might find to help them. The whole thing was messy and scattered—a pile of money, various splatters of blood but no bodies to be found, muddled with questionable involvement in a setting far out from the city. It would have considered it an event worthless of pursuing, but naturally, Gavin was insistent, and it couldn’t refuse.

“Androids don’t trust. Why do you think I should?” Acknowledging his bloodshot eyes and the way his fingertips twitched, it did a reading for the caffeine content in his blood, quickly identifying it as at least part of the cause for his temperament and behavior.

“I never asked you to trust me, detective.” Gavin fumed, feeling dismayed at his own skip over the conversation. Did he make that part up in his head? 34 hours of insomnia had the tendency to blur the lines between reality, dreams, and useless brain fuzz. Sometimes there were still shadows that would flicker in the corners of his vision, and the 900 reminded itself that Gavin was a bit more difficult than most to earn civil interaction from. Lieutenant Anderson seemed like a walk in the park in comparison, but maybe that was only because it’d mostly seen him and Connor on friendly terms in its short existence. Gavin treated it something like an annoyance, a threat to be his downfall as well as useful tool, and not much else, only being talked to respectively when he needed or wanted something, whether it was actively important in the android’s favor or not.

“Then what do you want, smartass?” The android stared at him in that way that they all tended to do, a little too long with an expressionless face that did no favors for his irrational fears. It was awkward. It was unnerving.

“I was simply stating that our objectives would go easier if you were more compliant.” Gavin laughed, but he wasn’t smiling.

“You’re funny. What’ve you found out, anyway?”

The android took note of his subject change, pulling up a photo on its hand to display to him.

“The only person that’s been here in the past 90 days was a young Native American woman. The blood matches up with hers, but there’s no trail and not a body to be found.” Gavin’s eyes narrowed as frustration dug in over the fact there was seemingly nothing else to work with, rather than accepting the hint as a step forward; another response that made the 900 shoot him a likewise glare – mirroring him had nearly become habitual in their days together, to the point that sometimes it didn’t even notice.

“So? You just gonna stand around?” It was the android’s turn to offer him a sarcastic smile, before turning around to walk down the hall in search for more immediate clues.

“Are you?” It called back to Gavin as he checked something on his phone, glaring up at the android with no verbal response, silently walking up to follow behind it.

“There’s no fingerprints…or footprints. The murderer was wearing gloves and probably something over his shoes, assuming it was a human,” it stated, considering how advanced some deviants seemed to be becoming. Gavin grumbled something under his breath, nodding towards the darkness under the bed.

“There. What’s that?” Turning its head, the RK900 pointedly looked to zoom in, finding something strange on the carpet. Dipping its fingers into it, it gave the substance a sniff, immediately identifying the source.

“Blue blood. JB400. It’s such a small amount, barely noticeable…good eye,” it offered. Gavin smirked as he was temporarily satisfied by the congratulation.

“So, what’s that mean, anyway?”

“I assume the android was slightly wounded in the process. Now, I at least have a lead. If we can find any more traces, we might be able to figure out where it came from.”

At first, Gavin hated hearing we at the beginning of its sentences, as he never liked the idea of working with teammates or partners, even humans; he considered himself working better alone, as considering his short-fuse personality, it was easy for him to get into conflicts with other people, even if they were on his side, and this was an android no less. But over time, it settled calmer on his ears, and he got used to sharing with the robot, from the passenger seat of the cruiser to his personal technology devices. He claimed the excuse of it being easier since androids could sync up with them, even though he’d never let another person lay a finger on his things if he could help it.

Somehow, the 900 had proven itself worthy.

Somehow, it had slowly, but surely, managed to gain his trust; but he didn’t want to admit it, let alone believe it.

-

The RK900 was gone in a flash, one foot in front of the other as it disappeared before Gavin could register what was going on.

“Hey! Where the hell d’you think you’re going?!” He ran a few paces forward while he tried to watch the route the android followed, only to stop as he realized he wasn’t really in the shape to go chasing inexhaustible beings.

“I have no time to explain,” it said simply, before disappearing behind the nearest building. Gavin grit his teeth, surprised to find himself annoyed at the lack of the android’s presence as much as he didn’t seem to want to hear from it. It worked hard, it did well, then it did shit like this and he didn’t appreciate not knowing what was going on, or what it was doing. That was the thing; working with a partner meant the situation wasn’t entirely under his control, a discomfort in itself. Aside from the lieutenant, he was signified as one of the best in the Precinct, and with Hank’s misbehavior, tardiness and disciplinary warnings, he’d made a strong image of himself in the influence of the DPD, even with his constant hostility. Androids were slowly marching their way up into jobs and careers, seeming to pull them from under humanity’s feet, and he’d hate nothing more than to be upstaged by a robot. Fired. The image of his father’s angry, disappointed face flashed into his mind and he walked back to his cruiser, deciding he’d drive down the road while ‘looking around’ for the android, ultimately using it as an excuse to find the next coffee shop whether it was with him or not to order something through the drive-through.

“Coffee isn’t going to solve your problems, and high amounts of caffeine are known contributors to agitation.” The RK900 somehow appeared as he didn’t catch sight of it approaching, surprised to see it leaning into his opened driver-side window while he’d been parked, arms folded against the door while it leaned forward with a casual look on its face--he spit out half a mouthful of coffee as he realized the damn thing was covered in blue blood. He wasn’t concerned, of course, just surprised.

“Ech, don’t get that shit on my car,” he hissed, prompting the android to lift an eyebrow.

“You’ve drenched it in milky, sugared coffee already.”

“That blue crap stains way worse and I don’t want android juice on my nice seats.” The 900 was amused at the fact he avoided the commonly used term for blue blood, and then seemed confused that Gavin didn’t question its appearance, but simply told it to keep away from the nice car. Leaning away from the vehicle, it pulled off its jacket, wiping off some of the excess that was smeared across its face.

“The job is done. We can go home now.” The corner of Gavin’s lip twitched as the word home rung strangely in his ears, but he assumed it meant nothing by it.

“What, did the damn thing explode? You look like you fell in a puddle of the stuff.” RK900 offered a small, but knowing smile.

“Something like that. Do you want me to walk?” For a moment, Gavin almost felt guilty, before remembering that it didn’t matter, and that he was giving this android more humanity than it frankly deserved in a moment of forgetfulness over the fact they didn’t grow tired, like he would.

“Yeah. Go uh, update Fowler, or something. I didn’t wanna see his face today anyway.”

“He’s your boss, but fair enough.” Gavin ignored it, rolling up his window with relief that the workday was finally over.

-

He didn’t expect it to be in his living room before he was, urging a sense of panic to crawl up his spine even though he’d already unlocked and re-locked all the latches on the front door. The android didn’t have a key, so how had it gotten in?

“The fuck?” Despite his typical outburst, the RK900 gave him a usual, polite greeting, now standing clean in fresh clothes.

“You’ll be unhappy to know one of your windows is susceptible to breaking in. I would have waited in your driveway, but frankly, the alternative entry was more enticing.” Gavin massaged his forehead with a tight blink, before looking above his living room couch.

“That window?”

“No.” Gavin narrowed his eyes. There was only the kitchen, the hallway, the back door, and…

“Your bedroom. The inside handle was open. I don’t imagine you forgot, did you?”

Gavin felt like he was losing his mind in a rather literal sense as he had no recollection of doing such a thing. He never touched that window—never needed to, as his room was his most private space and thus, the window remained shut and the blinds remained closed. Often, he locked the bedroom door as well, even if he was the only one home, an old habit that had long since carried on from when he shared a house with others.

“No one’s been here,” he said out loud, mostly to reassure himself. His eyes darted down the hall, but he was suddenly uncomfortable making the trek to his room. Acknowledging there was a spike in his anxiety, the RK900 simply walked past him and towards the bedroom, itself.

Gavin felt foolish as old nightmares threatened to seep into his sleep-deprived mind again. He glanced at the clock. It wasn’t that late; definitely not late enough to go to bed.

“Detective…” Snapping out of a disassociation spell, he looked down the hallway and followed the voice.

“Stay the fuck outta my room, and you don’t come into this house without me ever again,” he snapped, nearly colliding shoulders with the android as he walked briskly past it. Turning on the bedroom light, he looked around, checking to see if anything was out of place that supposedly hadn’t been touched in the last 9 work hours.

Certainly, he was overreacting, and he’d forgotten to lock the window in a moment of distraction. Was it this morning? Every day was becoming more unclear as he felt the shift in his mind, like concentrating was becoming harder, and he couldn’t think as well. When did that start? How long had it been going on?

“I know you haven’t taken them today.” Upon hearing those words, anger abruptly boiled under his skin, knowing what it was referencing to.

“The ones you’re supposed to, I mean.” The condescending tone of its voice made him seethe.

“Shut the fuck up!” The RK900 stared at him while he raised his voice, and that was part of what he hated about androids. They didn’t do anything; no emotion, no life, they just stood there and stared with no reaction. He wasn’t sure if the RK series was particular with this, or if all androids were eerily statuesque, but either way, he didn’t like it.

“Fuckin’ snooping in my stuff like you own the place? Fuck, you’re supposed to help me on my cases, not keep personal tabs on me like a damn nanny.” The RK900 stood behind the doorway, a short distance from the bright red virtual wall that stated DON’T ENTER now hovering between them.

“You’re right,” it retorted simply. Confused, Gavin glanced back at it.

“Becoming personally involved was mostly my choice, but not one you haven’t encouraged.” Bemused, Gavin folded his arms, lifting his chin and shoulders as he practically took the phrase as an insult; the same way he often did.

“I haven’t been parked at the precinct since our second week together. You bring me with you to lunch, and to your house, even when there’s no need to.” The realization made Gavin turn around on his feet as he no longer wanted to face the thing.

“Get outta here,” he demanded urgently. An uncomfortable sensation dawned on him, one that made the 900 stop in place to scan his vitals again, sensing the imbalance, but it accepted there was nothing it could do as it turned around to walk away.

-

Waking up to the smell of coffee was an oddity, one Gavin didn’t immediately recognize until he heard the familiar sound of his alarm go off. It seemed too early, and it was too cold, cuing him to pull the comforter further up with a grumble as he hit the snooze button and closed his eyes.

By the second ring, he squinted his eyes open, glaring at the window to try and gauge the weather outside. The foggy white lighting through the blinds was dim, suggesting the sun wasn’t out, and by the temperature drop, it might be snowing outside. Great.

The coffee was still hot, but cooled down enough he took a sip, closing his eyes once more as he sat up in the bed, thoughts halted while he was still too tired to make sense out of anything.

The morning was slow, and his shirt and jeans were stiff and cold against his skin, chilled from the frosty air overnight. Teeth chattering, he shivered, downing the rest of the coffee, eager to feel it warm his body as he got up to stretch with a yawn and walked to the living room.

With the android nowhere in sight, he was content to find some peace, pouring another cup from the almost-full pot, finally making the connection that it was probably here to make the coffee, anyway. Wasn’t that against its instructions from last night?

Oh well.

-

“Yesterday’s case was interesting,” the RK900 brought up once it was sure Gavin was coherent enough to initiate interaction.

“The android had painted it as though it was the murderer, but it seems the woman isn’t actually dead and had sought out her own revenge.” Gavin squinted with a lethargic gaze, lacking understanding without more context.

“Her blood was a ploy, left from an expired hospital bag. She must have had a recent transfusion.” Gavin sipped away the rest of his umpteenth cup of coffee, handing the android his empty cup expectantly.

“Why go so far to paint a murder scene? And for her to be the victim?” he finally asked.

“No idea. Whatever personal relationship she had with the android must have had immense strain. The android itself was in bad shape, as well.” Walking over to the coffee machine, it filled another cup while they interacted.

“Well, where’s the woman? What’s her name again?”

“Julien Asher. I didn’t find her. The android tried to flee but I called backup in time, it’ll be taken back for analysis.” Gavin’s brows narrowed and twitched, but he nodded, seeming to finally understand its explanation, at the very least.

“So you think she’s a murderer or just really hated that android?”

“Violent outbursts weren’t uncommon in her history.” Two sugars, two creams, and stir. It handed him the fresh cup with a lid, tapping it twice in a reminder that it’s hot and not to take a drink right away. Gavin set the cup down for the moment without thinking about it.

“She lived on the native american reservation, which was why the location was so far from Detroit, and had grown up defending herself from a life physical harassment. That house wasn’t even hers. She might have had a vendetta against someone else, android or otherwise. Domestic abuse isn’t out of the question.” Gavin raised an eyebrow, leaning against the break room table.

“So, we don’t know where she is, and she might have enemies. Might have friends, too. That could be bad news for us.”

“Doubtful. The situation seems too personal to land in our hands. However, we might want to patrol around the area and see if we can’t catch another lead.”

-

The RK900 disappeared again. That time, it didn’t come back.

It didn’t arrive at work the next day, either.

“You know Cyberlife will send another one,” Fowler groused, staring Gavin down over his desk with the familiar look of you’re wasting my time again.

“Then why haven’t they?” Confused, his boss gave him another ugly look.

“What are you so worried about, huh? I thought you couldn’t stand the fuckin’ things,” he responded, feeling like he’d just gotten whiplash from the deja vous of repeating a similar conversation with Hank in the past. Anderson had calmed down with Connor by the look of it and maybe he could say the same for Gavin, but ultimately, he didn’t really care. He had work to do.

“Call them yourself and find out, I don’t care. Now get out of my office.” Gavin remembered the news reports about androids and how they always ended with ‘Cyberlife was unavailable for comment,’ making him feel skeptical over the whole ordeal. Spying, hacking, physical violence among various other assumed aggressions were barely the start for a list of what those machines were capable of, and the idea of a government-issued one missing without any detail as to why made Reed feel uneasy. Part of him thought of betrayal, but his logical mind couldn’t figure out why. He blamed it on the unlocked window, the blue blood, the missing murderer, reassuring himself with the fact the RK900 was never secretive. It and its predecessor, Connor, weren’t entirely subtle about what they did and didn’t do, often speaking the obvious. But did that stop them from downloading and recording information? Having it in his house was one thing, having it missing after the fact was another. Part of his life was now implanted in that hyper-intelligent tape recorder, but he remembered it didn’t know anything it shouldn’t, nothing it could have shared that would put him in danger.

The medication. The behavior. The lecturing, the nagging. Where had it gone? What was it going to do? If another one came back, would it know the same things? Leaving Fowler’s office through the glass doors, he started to pace around his desk, finding it hard to keep his attention on his terminal even as he flipped through his own files. Their most recent one was still open, without updates, pessimism creeping up on him while he realized how bothered he was over the whole ordeal. Now that he had the self-awareness, he could nudge it away and put it behind him to focus on his work, knowing he didn’t have to rely on it for everything.

Still, it was strange to make his own coffee again, and the air around his desk seemed strangely empty without it hovering over him and skimming over the records faster than he could blink. The cruiser was bare without anyone in the passenger seat. The evening felt absent without its presence, and the night seemed harder to sleep through. All in all, he pretended not to notice.

-

“The co-dependence was an unconscious habit built around your instinctual desire for safety. Those that spend time alone tend to grow lonely, you know.”

The sting in his eyes weren’t real, not any more than the fast, heavy beating of his heart, or the way he’d nearly feared for his life without the damn thing.

“I was fine without your help, thanks.” They both knew the words were hollow, but the RK900 respected his notion. Gavin felt stuck, as if his feet were suddenly too heavy to move even though he had all the freedom in the world to leave. It was time to go.

“Your work declined drastically. You clocked in late. You—”

“Stop fucking telling me about my own life,” he steamed, and finally had the energy to walk out, tossing his empty cup towards the trash; it hit the rim and bounced back out. As if it were expected to, the 900 leaned over to pick it up and throw it away properly. Standing up straight again, it waited – pursuing the problem wouldn’t solve anything or make it easier on either of them. Gavin would return the next day, if nothing else.

-

Gavin was there, but he ignored the android, leaving the 900 without a partner. Searching for an empty desk, it sat down at a terminal across the room, shifting its hands to its original white plastic form while it swiped across the screen to dig for the most recent files.

Gavin could see the updates from his own terminal, looking unamused as he clicked on a different one. The exchange was indirect, but nonetheless entertaining on both their behalves—mostly for the android as it added text to one of the reports, updating what it had seen in recent days. Once the time came, Gavin was quick to take his lunch break, dismissing the idea of spending money on food so he could buy another espresso-fueled latte in the break room and having a quick chat with Tina to take his mind off of everything.

The whole ordeal was affecting him more than he expected it to, worse than he was comfortable with. Sucking down half of the cup, he eyed the 900 from the distance, trying to figure out his own feelings on the ordeal with no avail; it didn’t make sense. He couldn’t force it to make sense. The pieces weren’t only scattered but they didn’t match, and even in his attempts to avoid the thing, it still followed him in his thoughts.

[ghostmartyr]

Pokémon SoulSilver Randomized Nuzlocke [Part 2]

Standard Nuzlocke rules apply

Non-standard rule of only being allowed to catch something if it has a Type in common with the most recent thing you caught applies

Randomizer only touches wild pokemon; everything NPCs have remains the same.

So far, we have the first badge, and just caught our first official teammate for our starter. He is Fludd the Whiscash, to accompany Chance the Dewgong. Next pokemon has to be Water or Ground.

May I have the good fortune of finding one.

Fludd is Gentle and alert to sounds. He doesn’t have much in the ways of experience or moves yet, but we will soon see to changing that.

Route 33 has Shuckle! Adorable!

Fludd’s only offensive move being Mud-Slap is proving a trial of patience.

Wild Bastiodon appears. This is the route of tanks.

We’ve talked to Kurt, kicking off the Rocket plot of this section, and I think once Fludd is 10 or 11 we’ll continue down the Slowpoke Well. Where there will be non-Slowpoke things waiting for us.

I really just want Fludd to know something better than Mud-Slap.

..Water Gun is not terrible. Helps that the route I have chosen for training is beset by constant rain. Every single Shuckle having Berry Juice is not on the list of things that help anything except Shuckle delaying the inevitable.

I lied. Fludd is 13 before we start thinking about other things.

My current other thing is going to be Ilex Forest instead of the Rocket plot.

For reasons of pretty.

We find a Charizard!

That is very much not Water or Ground.

Cyndaquil is not Water or Ground either.

Hey, Fludd learned Mud Bomb. Yay.

Okay, fine. I guess we can save the Slowpokes if we really have to.

I love how as technology advances, video games get to be prettier. It makes me happy in my feelings places.

I also love how Kurt really doesn’t do anything. He tries. Then he falls and can’t get up. Then we go in and do the job he wanted to do.

Mawile is down here. Nothing I can do there.

The Grunts go down like Grunts, and then it’s Proton time!

Proton!

That guy!

He’s got... aquamarine hair! That’s like a personality!

Fludd beats him down, too. Party as it stands is Fludd at 16, Chance at 20, and Sleet and Cloud at 5. With only Fludd and Chance really counting as full party members. That will change slightly when I need something to Cut stuff.

Which will be right after we deal with this Gym.

-many weeks later-

-cough-

Anyway, Gym!

This will mostly be Fludd’s show, since he could use the levels. If anything happens to know Absorb, we’re bailing, but he should mostly be okay.

Upgraded Gym aesthetics are always good.

Almost as good as playing a Pokemon game without feeling compelled to give every single fight full play-by-play detail. Assume if I magically teleport through the plot that I did everything perfectly and expertly. All a result of my personal talent, not overleveling my precious pokemon in hopes of keeping them from dying from my stupidity.

Oh heck, whoops. One of the pre-Leader battles is a double.

Sleet is in the second slot.

Let’s not.

Good news! Sleet is still level 5. She still appears to be a casual passerby of this party, not an official member. This matters.

Bugsy looks so happy. Good for him.

(Unlike some Johto Gym Leaders.)

This will be more entertaining later in the game, but I think Pikasprey has brought up how this region’s Gym Leaders really are the most irresponsible about their job title.

Ultimately, Chance will take out Bugsy’s Scyther. Because it’s level 17. Like Fludd. And U-turn apparently really, really hurts.

No, Chance, you may not learn Rest. You’re a starting party member. That means you have nothing but attacks, and we compensate for our lack of strategy with levels.

Badge get!

But suddenly....!

-zooms through the battle at the speed of sound-

Good job, team!

Now we get to do a Farfetch’d puzzle that I am absolutely not terrible at.

Glory to Cut. Which we will be unceremoniously dumping on Cloud. Hi Cloud. This is your team. This is your role in it. Thank you for your contribution.

Oh.

Huh.

You’re part Water, aren’t you?

tfw I can actually catch something in Ilex Forest. Maybe I even will.

CAUGHT!

New member of the team, your name is now Downpour! Downpour is Quirky and highly curious, and we already love him. Even with the inevitable switch training about to go down.

We’re all just so happy that this place has been given level 6 Charizard to mine.

The truly nice part about being such a disaster in playing this part consistently is that Kurt gives me free balls. What, you forgot to play for a month? Your reward is not knowing what’s going on! Also free catching tools! You Win!

I also think that me being aware of EVs is the worst thing that ever happened to my enjoyment of pokemon playthroughs. I’m just left looking at wild level 6 Charizards with Sp. Atk signs in my eyes. What do those look like? The world may never know, but they are now part of my balanced breakfast.

Also, Nature Power becomes Rock Slide in Ilex Forest.

Downpour is going to be the most overhyped Special Attacker of its kind.

Assuming I ever find a Water Stone.

This is one of those changes from the originals that I’ve never fully understood or cared for. Except at the end of the day, I am a complete sucker for people you’ve helped along your journey all reuniting and recalling what you’ve done for them.

I just really miss the Eeveelution coolness of their dance hall.

And I don’t know why this one needed any help at all. Is that a lore thing? Are all your interactions with them just secret character tests?

Downpour is 19, which feels like good enough for venturing into Goldenrod. I really shouldn’t be living the life of mindlessly murdering wild Charizard for EVs for hours on end. Let’s just try to put a cap on it.

Forbidden Day-Care lore.

Lyra’s grandmother ships us. Awk.

I’m accepting everyone’s number in this. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that before, but unlike in the originals, I don’t think there’s a limit on numbers on your phone, so might as well hoard them up.

Geez I feel old.

Vote now on which NPC pokemon person gets to stay in your phonebook. Maybe if you’re lucky you won’t abandon the one who hands out random evolution stones. :)

Oh, hello. I can catch you.

Do I want to? I’d be back to Water/Ice, and right now I have the option of picking up a Grass thing somewhere along the way... hm.

On the other hand.

Cloyster is cool.

POKE BALL, GO!

Damn it, poke ball.

Heavy Ball?

Damn it, Heavy Ball.

And now I am out of Great Balls.

Poke Ball. How do you feel about a redemption arc.

The Poke Ball declines. I have one Fast Ball, and one Heavy Ball. The odds of me getting a new friend out of this are dwindling. The route’s death appears to be at hand.

One Fast Ball.

Yeah, it breaks out.

Okay, Downpour. Kill the non-friend.

With Chance’s help, because the non-friend knew Supersonic.

Bye, Route 34. You’re dead now, and I need to buy catching tools before I forget and meeting my next friend turns awkward.

Whatever. I have a bike now.

Failing basic trivia is my favorite part of each Pokemon game.

PSYCH I WON.

My prize is a Radio Card, but the real prize is getting Whitney back inside her Gym. Where I can now battle her if I so choose. If I want to progress in the game. Her Miltank is waiting.

So we’re just going to do literally everything else we can, except not literally; these games have too many things, and I’m not getting distracted by Voltorb Flip.

...What does Nature Power actually do? Because Downpour has been spotted using Rock Slide, Earthquake, and now Tri Attack through it. It’s becoming a staple of his kit. I don’t think I’ve ever bothered using it before. I was under the impression is was always Swift?

Or is that Nature’s Gift? That’s a thing, right?

Bleh. Fighting first, looking up vitally helpful information later.

The grass has Hitmontop. Not Grass or Water, so it must die.

Wait what the heck. I was out innocently Headbutting trees, why are you here?

This is intensely awkward. My usual mode with these things is that something only fits the requirement of my Nuzlocke team if it’s been Randomized, and for whatever reason, the randomness doesn’t touch Headbutt encounters. Exeggcute is part Grass, but it is not Randomized. Sleet and Cloud are more proper team candidates.

I’m just going to say that Headbutting doesn’t count for a route’s encounter. This run isn’t intended to be overly difficult (this is not the grindlocke); the aim is fun, and I have more fun not using the standard encounters for the game.

What I’m saying is the Exeggcute dies.

(I’m just never going to be able to get a Psychic Type in this.)

My thing at the moment is beating up pokemon in the wild because I’m not sure how to deal with Whitney. Stress-grinding. Chance can’t fight the Miltank. Rollout against Ice sounds like a nightmare. But Chance is also the only female on the team, and my teams have terrible luck in love, which Whitney like exploiting.

Fludd doesn’t really have moves. Water Pulse is nice, but Mud Slap is his only other attack. Downpour is theoretically a cool option, but I don’t know what Nature Power does in the Gym. These kiddos do not have movesets that play well together. Tickle spam would be ideal, but Fludd doesn’t have a physical attack. Only Chance does, and there we have the Rollout problem.

This team could have some nice synergy (for once I almost think I might want to have someone with Rain Dance), but right now they just don’t know enough, and I do not like heading into Whitney this way.

So let us continue to explore the countryside in hopes that a solution is found.

Yanmega is not Grass or Water. Neither is Pikachu.

RIOLU.

You’re not, either.

Neither is the Zubat in the next route. Bonsly looks like it should be, and yet. Volbeat is a nope.

You, on the other hand.

Okay okay okay. Downpour. Do not ruin this for us. I know you want to kill it. We can feel it in your heart. However, we could use a friend. We could use another link in our chain.

...Actually, Fludd, how about you lend a hand with this.

SHARPEDO GET!

I dub thee Hurricane. Hurricane is Modest (dang it) and alert to sounds.

To use, or not to use. That is the question. Physical attacker? Good. Yet another pokemon with a generic shrug at the difference between physical and special? Hm.

I think Hurricane is a reserve. If we’re leveling you, little guy, it’ll be a bit later. We’re happy to have you, but you don’t fix anything well enough that I think I want to train you up just yet.

On to the park. Where the Dunsparce lurk. More Smoochum. Zubat.

I found a Dig TM. That might go to Fludd. ..Or is Fludd going to learn Dig naturally? Fludd will learn Magnitude in a few. I can wait. I don’t remember if this gen allows multiple uses of TMs or not. I could look that up, but effort.

Er. On that subject, though... internet, where can has Water Stone?

“ Johto: National Park (Come 1st in Bug Catching Contest), Route 42 (PokéGear Phonecall) “

Uh.

Oh no?

Wait!

“ Johto: Pokeathlon Dome“

Hope.

Yikes. I wanted to avoid that, having no touch screen, but Downpour, I’m not abandoning you so easily. We’re a team, man. A team. We’ll get you your usefulness.

Welp, I’ve defeated all the trainers I can.

I guess.

It’s time.

Downpour is level 24, Chance is 25, and Fludd is 23. Fludd’s going to be taking the early parts in the interest of balance. For Whitney herself... I really don’t know. I’ll play it by feel. I do want to make sure Downpour uses Nature Power before that fight, though. I don’t want to go in without knowing what it does.

It does Tri Attack in here.

...Yeah, I’m looking it up. What the heck does Nature Power actually do? Besides use moves that are strongly connected with things occurring in nature?

Finding the gen four version is too much trouble. Let’s just proceed knowing limited amounts. Yay for Tri Attack.

-makes an unhappy face best represented by toddlers-

One Clefairy and one Miltank.

This is not a scary thing.

See? Fludd already massacred the Clefairy.

This is fine. It will be fine.

Fludd stop flinching.

Aaaaaand there’s the Attract. The Miltank’s been using Stomp only, so it should be safe for Chance to go in and get a few hits. Fludd used Tickle a few times to counteract the Stomp being annoying.

Chance. Sweetie.

Stop. fucking. flinching.

FUCK YOU AND YOUR SUPER POTIONS, WHITNEY.

YES. IT’S DEAD.

YOU ARE NOT THE ONE WHO SHOULD BE CRYING HERE. MY SOUL IS IN DESPAIR, WHITNEY. YOU AND YOUR STUPID MILTANK. EVEN WHEN IT ISN’T USING ROLLOUT.

I sort of ship the flunky that tells you not to worry, Whitney will give you your badge after she stops crying--with Whitney. Just because. I spend a great deal of time in my Pokemon playing shipping random NPCs.

Pokeathlon opened, time to. grind for the Water Stone.

If my memory of this is correct, before you beat the Elite Four, there’s a different evolution stone available for purchase each day. Today’s is a Moon Stone.

Oh, this is going to be hell!

tfw you remember the Jump course being the kindest so pick it but none of your team is actually good at jumping so you’ve got to bring in the reserves.

Hurricane, Cloud, Sleet? Your time is now.

...

..

.

These games are not meant to be played on a touchpad.

Yikes.

Oh my fucking gosh this is hell do not want.

Well.

I lost.

Yay for 325 points.

LET’S KEEP GOING, SHALL WE????

Where’s my mouse...

Let’s try Power on for size. Chance, Downpour, Fludd, go for it.

Oh look I lost.

Downpour, you better appreciate how much I love you.

LOOK WE WON THE STAMINA ONE.

I’m not documenting this further. Know that I am miserable, and this is not meant, in any way, to be played with a mouse. The levels of unfortunate are everlasting and I am sad.

-the next day-

I have to wait another day for a Water Stone, but I have enough for it, so now we can move on to fun things. Like the game. The game. Which is fun.

tfw Jirachi is secretly an odd tree.

Route 37, have ye any Water or Dark?

Chimchar, you are found lacking.

Ah crud.

Totodile is not lacking, but I really don’t think catching it is a good idea. Pure Water locks me into Water. We might end up there anyway, but I’m not in such a hurry to commit just yet. I can kill a route to keep some variety alive.

Sorry, Totodile. :(

Ecruteak means Bill, which means I could go back to Goldenrod and find out what his Eevee has become. Let’s do that before we think about anything fancy like plot progression.

Sleet, into the box with you. Maybe you’ll come back if I don’t like whatever Bill’s offering.

Carnivine. Interesting. Uh. How about... Drizzle? Drizzle. Cool. And. Uh. Sleet. You’re staying in the box. Sorry, but level 5 things that are filling out party count are really just going to end up as very sad sacrifices. We’re avoiding that for now.

-another day passes-

(without me getting balls from Kurt, whoops)

WE DID IT.

Now to find out that Downpour’s spending another twenty levels not needing it because moves matter more than stats. To the internet.

...Oh.

Oh, Downpour.

Oh, no.

You, uh.

Kiddo, you’re going to be needing some help as we move forward.

But the good news is that means we’re evolving you now! Yay! Power boost! You go, you funky little duck frog thing.

Maximum cuteness achieved.

That’s a good stopping point for this round, I think.