#BOLD OF YOU TO ASSUME IVE EVER FORGOTTEN

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

Part I

A lamb in a den of lions, he thought, watching the newcomer as she settled in, ordering whiskey neat. A fool, for sure.

A fool she may be, perhaps, but even fools could be dangerous. Eren had known that the young woman was a Hunter from the moment she entered the bar (everyone else had, too) but something told Eren that she was hardly cut from the same cloth as the average Bane of Creatures. There was something in her movements— a predatory grace in her stride, perhaps, or a stiff, straight posture, with muscles tensed and ready for action— that betrayed her power to him; but for all that, she really was lovely, and the image of a rabbit caught in a patch of bramble came to mind whenever he looked at her.

Sitting in a corner, drinking his B-neg, he watched the woman as she sipped her drink, checking over her shoulder now and then. She was wary— as anyone with good sense would be— but she didn't appear frightened, and Eren's curiosity was piqued. It wasn't every day that someone so bold happened across his path, and it became harder and harder for him to resist the urge to approach her.

Eventually, Eren gave in to his curiosity— he never had been very good at or even particularly fond of restraining himself— and when he came silently up behind her, the newcomer didn't even notice his presence until he murmured a greeting close to her ear.

"Hello, little love," he said, and she startled in her seat. "Are you lost?"

She turned around then, her eyes big and bright in the dim lighting of the bar, but by the time she managed to look at the spot where Eren would have been, he was already seated on the barstool beside her. Eventually, though, her eyes found his, and when their gazes met, Eren was amused to find no fear in her visage.

"Far from it," she told him, turning her body towards him. "I am precisely where I mean to be."

Eren blinked, nonplussed.

"Curious," he said, leaning forward so that she could see the sharpness of his teeth as he spoke. "Do you fancy yourself a wolf among sheep, little Hunter? Did you really not think we would know you for what you are the moment you crossed the threshold of this place?"

Any normal, human ear would have missed the way her heart leapt in her chest, but Eren missed nothing. The fear he had hoped to inspire in her was present after all, but her face never moved from its impenetrable mask— an affectation that was somehow both soft and steely at once.

"That's not what I'm here for," she told him, widening the distance between her knees as she readjusted on the stool. "I'm here to discover the truth."

The truth— what an odd notion!— and yet Eren sensed no lie in her.

"You're a strange one," he told her, but forced himself to relax his posture to appear lazy, almost drunk. "Most Hunters— even ones so pretty as yourself— shoot first and worry about the truth later. What's your name?"

Her nose crinkled. "It's polite to give your own first."

Sharp, he thought, watching her closely. Names have power.

"Eren Jaeger."

"Eren Jaeger," she echoed, then extended her hand. "My name is (Y/N)."

That name sounded familiar to Eren— and though most names did after living a few centuries, this one seemed to hit closer to home. He knew that name, and knew it well…

"What's your surname?"

(Y/N)'s eyes flashed with an emotion that Eren didn't catch.

"Kirschtein," she replied, averting her eyes. "I'm Jean Kirschtein's great-great-great granddaughter."

And damn if Eren didn't want to laugh. Perhaps his nosiness into the posterity of his old acquaintances really was as bad of an idea as Armin always seemed to imply.

"I see," he said, and he truly, truly did. "Then you know who I am— what I am— and what I've done."

More than that, if she truly did know who he was, it was unlikely that she had come without a specific purpose in mind.

(Y/N) nodded, confirming his suspicions. "I was digging around in my family history and— well— I read what my grandfather wrote, and I just— I wanted the truth."

So wide-eyed, so innocent— so alive. Eren could see now her resemblance to Jean; if they were not similar in looks, she had his sharpness, his humanness… and, as he always had Jean, Eren envied her for it.

"If that's the case, then I'm sure you know that you don't get something for nothing," he told her, sipping his drink just to watch the expression on her face as he let the warm blood slide down his throat. "And that dealings with me can be dangerous."

"Jean Kirschtein loved you, Eren Jaeger," she told him fiercely and with such conviction that Eren nearly choked on his drink. "To take such a tone with me, to threaten me, the last living remnant of him, is the most disrespectful thing I've ever heard."

Eren was about to say that he didn't owe her, Jean Kirschtein, or anyone else any sort of respect, but she plowed on, unwilling to let him say his piece.

"You broke his heart a million ways by doing what you did, but— but he was your friend through all of it, no matter what side each of you were on," (Y/N) continued, passion aflame in her eyes. "I can't even imagine what inspired such a love, such a loyalty from him that he would forgive you for the horrors you caused. That's what I'm here to find out— what you have that a man such as him would find you redeemable."

The reproof in her words stung, but Eren was too old to argue. She could never understand what it was like back then.

"I understand more than you think," she snapped, and Eren actually flinched. "I understand that you hurt the woman my grandfather loved immeasurably, and that he forgave you for that even though he never even particularly liked you. I understand that you were ready to sacrifice the world for that selfsame woman, for Jean, and for all the others. I understand that you're a monster who loved and was loved back, but I want to know why."

How? Eren thought, shaken.

How had she known his thoughts? It was as though she had seen straight through to his innermost being.

Without speaking, she answered his question. (Y/N) took a hand and rolled up her left sleeve, presenting to him a scarred marking in the shape of a pentagram.

"My grandfather didn't settle down with just anyone," she told him, holding his gaze. "I come from a line of powerful witches, all of whom possessed strong claircognizance. Paired with my nature as an empath, you can assume I know what you're going to say before you say it."

Eren hummed, trying to appear less perturbed than he was.

"And yet you hunt Creatures for a living; strange, since you're practically one of us yourself."

(Y/N) glowered. "I hunt monsters that prey on my people, not Creatures. No innocent has died by my hand."

The unlike you went unsaid, but that didn't mean that Eren didn't hear it anyway.

"Don't get high-and-mighty with me, girl," he told her roughly. "Knowing is one thing, but experiencing what we experienced is another."

"I'm not here to judge you," she replied. "I told you, I'm here for truth, nothing more."

"And I told you that the truth doesn't come for free," he told her darkly. "You must give me something in return."

(Y/N) set her jaw.

"What would you have of me?"

It was a mean, base request. Eren was wicked for even thinking it, and vile for wanting it— but looking at the great-to-however-many-degrees granddaughter of a good man that he had once known, seeing the vitality that brought a flush to her cheeks and thumping to her heart, he knew he couldn't pass up this golden opportunity.

It had been so long since he'd had a Companion.

"Become my cupbearer for six moons," he told her, crossing his arms. "Starting with tonight, the moon becomes new; let me drink from you until six of these have passed, and along the way, you will learn what you want to know."

(Y/N) eyed him warily.

"Can you assure my physical safety?"

Eren grunted, almost amused. It was a bit late to be worrying about that.

"I think you know that I can."

"And will you let me continue in my duties as a Hunter?" she asked, her eyes searching his own as if she would find the answer to her question there inside the same eyes he'd had since he was nineteen. "Completely uninhibited?"

"That depends. Will you kill Creatures in the discharge of your duties?"

(Y/N) made a face. Eren had forgotten how expressive mortals could be, but he found that being reminded was not altogether unpleasant.

"You know I will," she replied, "But you have my word that any killing won't be unprovoked."

Eren supposed it was as close to a compromise as he could expect.

"As you wish it, so shall it be."

He turned away, signaling to the bartender for another drink, but a lightning-fast hand shot out to grab his wrist.

"Swear it," she demanded. "I need us to be Bound by it."

The meanness in Eren finally won over. He reached forward, grabbing (Y/N) by the neck, and the silver rings on her fingers burned him as she pulled at his hand to try and restore her breath. Eyes from all around the room were on the two of them— had been, since the very beginning— but it was only once the Hunter before him began to look appropriately humbled that he withdrew.

"Do not touch me without my permission," he said, "And I will return the favor."

(Y/N) looked at him then, but there was still no fear in her eyes. Anger, yes, but no fear.

She must be mad, or foolish one, he thought, considering her for a moment. I always have been partial to mad fools in general, but…

Something about her seemed different, and Eren didn't know what to do other than accept what she had to offer. Heavens knew he was getting the better end of the deal anyway.

"Swear it," she repeated, this time more quietly. "Give your word, and I will be your cupbearer."

Eren brought his hand up and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. At his will, the nail tip of his forefinger sharpened, hardening into a point; he used it to draw an 'X' onto the skin just over where his heart rested inside his chest, cold and dead. Blood welled into the cut— precious little, compared to that of a human, but still enough to run down his chest in smudges— and it was by that blood that he swore. He spoke the terms of their agreement, then took the blood from his wound with the pad of his finger and marked the same spot over (Y/N)'s own heart.

"Satisfied?" he asked, their faces almost touching, and (Y/N) shivered.

"Yes."

Her warm, living breath fanned over his face with her reply, and Eren took the moment to close his eyes and appreciate the scent and sensation of it.

"You may think you're satisfied," he told her, pulling away, "But you don't know the meaning of the word."

She eyed him warily, but before she could speak, he added, "In six months' time, I'll ask you the same question, and it is then that you will truly know what it is to feel satisfied— satiated in every way."

"As you say."

It was a throwaway comment, nothing more than a dismissal, really; but Eren felt like it was the start of something truly remarkable.

[imagines4thefandoms]

Bucky Jr.

so i was planning on writing a small one shot based off of “Ive been watching you” by Rodney Atkins but it grew into a 5K+ imagine.

Takes place during/after endgame so don’t read if you haven’t seen it but it you haven’t are you living under a rock? all of the details based on the movie were written based off memory so if the dialog is a bit off its because i haven’t seen the movie in a while. 

word count: 5k+ like i said i got carried away. 

Bucky Barnes x reader, Steve x platonic! reader

y/n found out she was pregnant three months after they lost to thanos i think you can imagine how this story goes based off the ending of the movie and the song i based this story off of. 

You honestly never thought that you could get Bucky  after you found out that Thanos destroyed the stones. You did everything you could to try and get him back: going to the sanctum to see if there was a spell, pray, hell you even thought you would try to sell your soul. You even looked into the multiverse theory but nothing worked. Three months after half the universe turned to dust you found out that you were pregnant. The thought of having the baby without Bucky there, hurt.  

Steve knew something was wrong when he hadn’t heard from you for a couple of days. He drove over to the house that you and Bucky had gotten.  The only people who knew about the house was you, Bucky and Steve. And because Steve was Steve, he had gotten a spare key, so when he pulled up to the house he just walked right in.  

Steve called out for you but you were too deep into your depression to hear him. You didn’t know that her was here til there was a knock on the bedroom door. You got out of bed so fast cause you thought that Bucky was back.

“Buck,” you asked opening the door.

Your smile fell when you saw that it was just Steve. You had forgotten that Steve knew about the house. Steve game you a soft smile because he knew how hard you were taking the loss. You left the door open and climbed back in into the bed. Steve walked over and sat by your feet.

“He’s not coming back is he,” you asked softly.

“I don’t think so,” he replied.

“I can’t do this without him Steve.”

“Do what?”

You reached into your night stand, grabbed the positive pregnancy test and handed it to Steve. He looked at the text then back at you.

“Did he know,” he asked placing the text on the nightstand.

“No. I didn’t know til last week. Steve I can’t do this alone.”

“(Y/n) you will not be doing it alone. I will be here for you,” he told you pulling the covers off. “Now come on. Time for you to get up.”

“No,” you said taking your pillow and covering your face with it.

“As godfather and favorite uncle it is my duty to get you to get out of bed.”

“Bold of you to assume you're the godfather,” you teased.

~five years later~

Ever since then Steve has been there for you every step go the way. He went to the doctor’s appointments, he helped you decorate the nursery, he even helped you pick the perfect name when you found out it was a boy: James Buchanan Barnes Jr.

Steve moved into the house, Bucky made sure that there was a spare room for Steve, to help you with the long nights after James was born. Every time he woke up to chance a dirty diaper, you would complain and tell him that you got it but he would reply with his same cheesy joke, “I’ve slept for 70 years.”

Steve was there for each step of James’ life. His first word: Steve, well it was te. His first steps, his first day of school. Steve even taught him how to ride a bike. He was like a dad to James, but he never took the role of dad. Every night before bed Steve would tell James stories of Bucky and growing up the two of you made sure that James knew about his father.

“Is daddy ever going to come back,” James asked Steve.

“I don’t think so,” Steve told James sadly.

“Mommy doesn’t talk about what happened to daddy. Can you tell me uncle te,” your son asked.

“Well you know how your parents and I are avengers?”

“Yea.”

“Well there was a bad guy that wanted to wipe out half the universe, so us and the rest of the avengers went to stop him. But we didn’t win so he wiped out half the universe and your daddy was one of those people who got wiped away.” Steve explained.

“Oh you mean the blip.”

“Yea.”

“I wish I met him,” James said pulling his covers up to his chin.

“Me too bud,” Steve tucking him in.

“Uncle te.”

“Yes buck,” Steve responded using the nick he called Buck. He only calls James that when you’re not around as to night hurt your feelings.

“Do you think daddy would like me?”

“I know your daddy would love you,” Steve assured him as he kissed if forehead.

James grabbed the photo of Bucky that you put of his nightstand and held it against his chest. Steve turned off the lights then left his room. Steve stopped when he saw you standing outside James’ room.

“He wanted to know,” he started to say ready to explain why he told James what he told him.

“He’s old enough to know. Im just glad you told him and not me. I would have broken down.”

Steve pulled you in to a hug. You pushed away from him and gave him a small smile letting him know that you appreciated the hug. Steve left to go to bed while you went to the living room and sat on the couch. You grabbed the photo book off the coffee table full of pictures of you and Bucky and just looked at them til you fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up from James pulling your eyelids open. Steve tried to stop him before he woke you up but he was a little too late.

“Sorry I tried to stop him,” Steve said handing you his coffee.

“But mommy had to wake up cause we are going to see Aunt Nat,” James said sitting down at the table eating his breakfast.

After finishing half the cup you got up and went to kiss James’ head. “Your right how silly of me to sleep.”

You finished the coffee and handed the empty up of Steve on your way to your room to get dressed. Going to your closet, you grabbed one of Bucky’s shirts and a pair of jeans. As soon as you finished getting ready for the day there was a little knock at the door.

“Mommy hurry up. I want to see Aunt Nat,”

You opened the door and ruffled his hair as you walked past him. “It that because she shows you all of the old weapons at the compound,” you asked as you grabbed the toast that Steve had made for you.

James stoped in his tracks and looked at you and Steve. “How did you know. It’s supposed to be a secret,” he asked.

“Thats because your mom knows everything,” Steve replied.

“Nu uh, Mommy what’s 12 x 12,” James asked crossing his hands over his chest and tilting his head a little.

“144,” you answered him.

James went over to Steve and held is hand out for Steve’s phone. He pulled it from his pocket and opened the calculator app. He checked your answer and looked up at you with shock and awe.

“Wow mommy does know everything,” he replied handing Steve back is phone.

After ten minutes and James running back to his room to grab his teddy bear Sarge, which he dressed to look like Bucky, the three of you left for the compound. While in the car, James wouldn’t sit still cause he was too excited to see Natasha.

“James, pleas stop kicking my seat,” You asked him.

“Im just too excited,” he replied using his hands to emphasize his statement. “Can we listen to the song?”

“What song it that buddy,” Steve asked looking to James in the rearview mirror.

“Mommy knows the song.”

Steve looked over at you from the driver seat and you smirked at him while grabbing your phone and finding the video. James quickly calmed down once he knew you were going to put the song on.

“Uncle te, you can sing it too,” He said hold Sarge tight in anticipation.

“I might not know the song,” Steve replied.

“Oh you know it,” you smirked.

The song started to play and James pretended to march in place while in his car seat.

Who’s strong and brave to save the American way

“Not all of use can storm a beach or drive a tank. But there is still a way for all of us can fight” James spoke.

Who vows to fight like a man for what’s right night and day

“Series E defense bonds, each one you buy is a bullet in the barrel of your best guy’s gun”

Who will complain door to door for America

Carry the flag shore to shore for America

From Hoboken to Spokane

The Star Spangled Man with a Plan

“How do you know that,” Steve asked James and you.

“Mommy found it. It’s my favorite,” James replied.

Steve looked over at you and just shook his head. You noticed how red his face was and you just turned it up a little. The entire ride James spoke Steve’s part. After the second go around James convinced Steve to do it with him.

You couldn’t tell who was more happy to see the compound James, to see Nat, or Steve, so you could stop playing his song. As soon as the car came to a stop James unbuckled and got out of the car. Natasha walked out of the compound and held her arms open for James.

“Aunt Nat,” James yelled running into her arms.

“Hey JJ.”

After they went inside you didn’t really see either til lunch time. And since you didn’t hear an explosion you didn’t worry. James was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while nat was talking with Carol, Okoye, Rocket, and Rhodey.

After everyone hung up nat teared up a little because of Clint and James noticed. He grabbed Sarge who was in the chair next to him and handed him to her. “Here Aunt Nat, Sarge makes me feel better when I am sad.” James then went back to eating his sandwich while Steve and Nat talked a little. Then you noticed that someone was at the gate.

“Is that Scott,” you asked.

“How old is that,” Steve asked.

“Its live.”

“James stay here,” you told him as the three of you ran to see if Scott was really back.

The four of you came back to the room and James just looked at confusion. Scott explained how he was here and his plan to get everyone back. You, Nat and Steve looked at each other while Scott sat next to James and ate Natasha’s peanut butter sandwich.

“Hi,” James said pushing a glass of milk to Scott.

“Hey,” Scott replied with a questioning look.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes Jr.,” James introduced himself. “Wait are you Antman?”

“Yes I am.’

“You are so cool.”

“Thanks kid,” Scott thanked him and finished the sandwich. “I knew your dad.”

“Really, were you friends or did he try to beat you up when Hydra was hurting him?”

“Friends, well I helped him when he was in trouble,” Scott explained.

James nodded his head and thanked Scott for helping his dad, then continued to eat his sandwich. Scott finished his milk then walked over to you and motioned back to James.

“Cute kid.”

~time skip~

After the meeting with BruceHulk, you and Steve knew of the only person who might be able to help. James sat in the middle between you and Scott one the ride up to Tony’s cabin. The entire ride James and Scott were talking about Antman things. Once we got to the cabin James’ fascination with Scott disappeared. All he want to do was play with Morgan. He ran past Tony and gave Morgan a hug.

“Hi Morgan,” James said after their hug.

“James you came to play,” Morgan asked James nodded his head and they ran off to play.

“Hello to you too,” Tony called out to your son.

“Sorry. Hi uncle Tony,” James called out.

Steve, Nat, Scott and you talked to Tony and explained what the plan was. Tony didn’t agree with the plan and kept saying that it wouldn’t work. Morgan and James ran inside. Then Morgan ran back out to “save” Tony. He invited you to stay for lunch which you accepted and went in to see James helping pepper set up the table.

“Aunt pep, I need one more fork,” James said looking at the table counting the plates.

“Here,” she said holding one out for him.

He put the fork in its place and then ran to whisper something in Morgan’s ear. She agreed to whatever he said. They went into the kitchen and grabbed a towel and held it over their arms. James opened his mouth then closed it and went over to pepper. He tapped her leg and motioned for her to bend over so he could whisper in her ear. She whispered something back then came back to stand next to Morgan.

“Lunch will be ready in three minutes,” James said.

“Please wait to be seated,” Morgan stated.

They both came over to Steve and asked for his name. After he gave it name they check the “list” on Morgan’s hand and both nodded their heads.

“Right his way, Mr. Rodgers,” James said leading Steve to his seat.

They did this for everyone and then helped hand out the food to everyone. After lunch the kids played a little while longer but then it was time to leave. You had to figure out time travel without the help of Tony.

“Bye Morgan,” James said sadly.

“Bye James,” Morgan replied equally sad.

The entire time you guys where trying to perfect time travel James was standing next to Bruce wearing a lab coat that was too big and hold a clip board holding some of his drawings. You didn’t tell him why you guys were building a time machine because you didn’t want to get his hopes up.

After all the mishaps with Scott you walked over to James and asked for his scientific opinion on what you were doing wrong. He replied with ‘maybe the clock is broken’. Steve went outside for fresh air while you tried to help Bruce solve this. You were surprised when you saw Steve come back inside with not only his shield but also Tony.

“Let me guess, you were messing around and cracked time travel,” you asked throwing your hands in the air.

“Yes,” Tony said walking over to bruce.

“Wow, is that the shield,” James asked running over to Steve and ran his fingers on the vibranium disk. “Its beautiful.”

“Hold it,” Steve said handing it too James.

His eye lit up and he ran around pretending to be Captain America. After Tony explained how he cracked time travel the team split up to get more people to help with the mission. Tony got Rhodes, Nat got Clint, once rocket and Nebula got back to earth bruce and rocket went to get Thor. You called Pepper and asked her to watch James while you completed the mission and she agreed to so you and Steve brought him back to Tony’s cabin.

Once you pulled up you and Steve looked at each other and decided that now was the time to explain everything to him. Before he opened the door you told him that you needed to talk.

“Do you know why your staying with Morgan and aunt Pep for a couple hours,” you asked him.

“Cause you have a mission,” he asked.

“Yes but do you know what the mission is,” Steve asked him.

“No its top secret. Constitutional.”

“confidential,” you corrected him. “The mission is to bring back daddy and everyone who got blipped away,”

“Your going to save daddy,” James asked.

“Yes.”

“I want to help,” he exclaimed.

“I know you do bud but it's too dangerous. And we need you to be safe. Your dad would want you to be safe,” Steve stated to talk him down.

“Fine but you will call me right after.”

“Yes.”

“Ok, be safe and save daddy,” James said kissing you and Steve on the cheek before he got out of the car and ran too Morgan.  

Pepper waved to you to let you know everything would be okay then you and Steve drove back to the compound. Once you two got back, everyone was in a room talking about the stones and when the best time to get them was. It was decided that New York 2012 would be the best time to get the mind, space and time stone, 2013 Asgard would be the best time to get the reality stone, and 2014 Space would be the best time to get the soul and power stone. The teams were Steve, bruce, Tony and Scott would go to 2012, Thor and rocket would get the reality stone, nebula and Rhodes would get the power, while you Clint and Natasha would get the soul stone.

Everyone suited up and we all wished everyone good luck on their missions to receive the stones. You were standing next to Steve and the next thing you knew you where on an alien planet in the year 2014. Rhodes enlarged the Guardians’ ship and flew team soul stone to vormir. There was a long hike to where the stone was supposed to be. The three of you climbed to the top of the twin mountains and where greeted by the Red Skull. It threw you for a loop but decided to focus on getting Bucky back then the head of hydra at least for now. He explained how we were to get the stone and it was along the lines of soul for a soul. So the three of you sat there in defeat.

“There has to be another way,” you said looking between the two former assassins who where having a whole conversation without talking.

“We have to get that stone. What ever it takes,” Nat said and Clint repeated ‘whatever it takes’

They both stood up and then looked confused at each other. Then you realized what their plan was. Nat was going to sacrifice herself for the stone and Clint was going to do the same.

“No way. That is not happening,” you told them.

“Its the only way,” Nat said walking over to you. “Tell JJ I love them. And get everyone back.”

Nat gave you a hug and an electric shock surged through your whole body. The amount of electricity that you got hit with knocked you out and you didn’t wake up it after you go the stone. You woke up next to Clint in some lake.

“No,” you cried when you saw the stone in his hand and Nat no where to be found.

The two of you took a second to gather your emotions then pressed your belt and went back to 2023. You came back to the platform where left on and just dropped to your knees. Steve came over and checked you for any wounds.

“She’s gone,” you cried as you wrapped your arms around him.

Everyone gave Tony the stones so he could build the gauntlet while you went out to the lake. One by one everyone showed up too. There was a small argument over whether or not we gaunt get Nat back with the stones but you and Clint knew you couldn’t. Steve walked over to you and sat down.

“How am I going to tell James that she’s gone,” you asked him.

“You won’t have to do it alone cause we are going to get Buck back and then all three of us will go tell him,” Steve said rubbing your back.

Everyone went back inside to prepare to bring everyone back. Thor really wanted to be the one to snap everyone back but it was decided that Bruce would do it. In his works, “its mostly gamma radiation. I was made to do this.” He put the gauntlet on and snapped his fingers. The power of the stones sort of burned his arms and you ripped the gauntlet off of him while Tony tried to help with the burns.

You couldn’t really tell that it worked but you heard birds. Lots of them. Then a phone started to ring and by the look on Clint’s face you were guessing it was his wife calling and so it worked. You looked at Steve and were about to tell him it worked when the whole compound blew up. The force knocked you out a bit and you woke up later next to Clint. You saw the gauntlet laying a couple feet away so you grabbed it cause there was no was a friend blew you up.

And you were right it turned out to be Thanos from 2014 because the nebula that came back want your nice nebula. You were trying to get out from all the rubble when you heard Steves painful groans. Of course Steve was facing the titan by himself. Once you could breath fresh air you looked out at the wasteland that was once the compound. You saw Steve get up and take a stand against Thanos alone. You were about to run to his side when you heard a faint voice on the comms.

“On your left,” you heard Sam say.

You never thought hearing Sam Wilson’s voice you make you cry but it did. Because if he was back so was Bucky. All around golden circles of sparks emerged and dozens of people stepped out. You made your way to take a stand against Thanos and out the corner of your eye you saw him. You fought the urge to run to him and never let him go. That could wait.

Thanos’s creepy alien army charged at us and we charged at them. You killed a bunch of the dog thingy and eventually found yourself next to Bucky. During a small window of peace you turned to him and jumped in his arms.

“Hey doll,” he said holding you tight.

“God I missed you Buck,” you cried.

“Sorry I was gone so long,” he replied pushing you back and pressing his lips firmly against yours. “You look gorgeous by the way.”

“There is something I really need to tell you Bucky.”

He pulled you close to him and then shot at some aliens behind you. “We are kinda in the middle of a war here doll. Tell me after we win.” He ran off to kill more aliens and you did the same. You were taking a hit but over the comms you heard a plan. To get the stones back before Thanos could use them again. So during the fight there was a game of Hot potato that was being played with the gauntlet. It work for a while but eventually Thanos got the stone. It happened so quickly. He was about to snap his fingers when Tony jumped on him. Thanos threw in aside then snapped his fingers. You closed your eyes to prepare for another loss but nothing happened. Then you looked over at Tony and saw that he had the stones. He snapped his finger and Thanos and the other aliens turned to dust.

You ran over to bucky and jumped in his arms again to celebrate the win but stopped when you noticed that Tony wasn’t getting up. Pepper and Peter when over to him. It didn’t look good. You noticed pepper crying and you knew that he didn’t make it. Everyone took a knee to honor him. The Steve, Thor, and Dr. Strange walked over and helped cover his body and retrieve the stones.  You cried into Bucky’s then thought of James. Once Tony’s body was covered and the stones were safely put in a briefcase. You let go on Bucky and ran to Steve.

“James,” you cried.

Pepper walked over to you and you gave her a hug. She told you how Happy was with the kids. You felt bad for only thinking of James while your friend just died. Pepper looked at you and shook her head like she knew what you were thinking.

“Lets go,” Pepper said and you walked over to strange and asked him to do his portal to the cabin.

Bucky was right behind you completely confused on what you were doing. You looked at him and just smiled as you grabbed Steves hand then his and walked the the portal after Pepper. She ran inside but the three of you stayed outside.

“Bucky that thing I wanted to tell you,” you told him.

“I get it doll. Five years is a long time and you didn’t think I would come back,” he said looking at how you were still holding Steve’s hand.

You followed to where he was looking and stepped away from Steve. “No its not that,” you started to explain but were interpreted by James running out of the Cabin.

“Mommy,” he cried running to you. “Uncle Tony.”

“I know,” you dropped to your knees and hugged him.

You didn’t let go til he look over at Steve and he ran out of your arms into his. “Your okay,” James cried.

“Yes buddy. Just a little come cuts but I will be okay,” Steve replied.

You got up and looked over at Bucky was you could tell what he was thinking by the look in his eye. You went to go tell him he was wrong but heard James from behind you.

“You did it. Thats him right,” you son said wiping his tears away.

“Yea. Thats him,” Steve informed him.

James walked over to Bucky and just looked up at him. Bucky knelt down to meet the boy who he thought was yours and Steve’s kid.

“Hey,” Bucky said.

“Hi,” James replied looking at Buck’s face. “You’re taller than I imagined.”

“Yea,” Buck laughed. “Whats your name?”

“James Buchanan Barnes Jr. and this is Sarge,” James said showing Bucky his teddy.

Bucky looked at James then at you. “I thought…”

“You well you were never the sharpest tool,” you cut him off.

“Im glad I get to meet you dad,” James said wrapping his arms around Bucky.

“Me too.”

~time skip~

It has been a couple weeks since Tony and Nat’s funeral and James was taking Nat’s death better than you expected. You were pretty sure he was to busy getting to know Bucky to let her death get to him and you weren’t complaining.

“What happened to your arm. Mommy and uncle Te never told me that story,” James said poking Bucky’s metal arm.

“I lost it when I fell off a train,” Bucky explained.

“That was back in World War 2. How are you still alive? Did you crash a plane into water like uncle te?”

“No but I was frozen like him for a while.”

“When you were getting hurt by hydra.”

“Yes but now I'm all better.”

“Cool will you feel it if I punch your metal arm?”

“No.”

“Awesome. I want a metal arm.”

“Maybe for Christmas,” you replied laughing.

Steve came into the living room from the kitchen with drinks. James yelled something about doing something important and ran out of the room. The three of you sat in the living room and caught up. You told Bucky everything about James and Steve told y’all about his trip to return the stones. James came back into the living room ten minutes later with a huge smile on his face.

“What did you do,” you asked him.

“Nothing,” he replied.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other and just laughed. They mentioned how much James was like Bucky when he was a kid.

“Mommy can i’m hungry,” James told you as he sat next to Bucky.

You got up to go make his something to eat when you noticed black paint on the floor. You looked over at James and saw that his left hand was black with gold lines.

“James what did you do? And please tell me it comes off,” you asked.

James got up and took off his jacket to reveal that he painted his left arm black and gold to match Bucky’s

“Now I really match daddy, see. Same name and same arm,” he replied showing off the slightly wet arm.

You opened you mouth to yell about how there is paint on your floors and probably on the stairs too and how he ruined his clothes and possible the couch with the paint but just closed your mouth and shook your head.

“Now that you are back this is your problem,” you said walking into the kitchen to feet Bucky Jr.

“Did I do something wrong,” James asked looked between Bucky and Steve.

“No buddy, you just made a mess with the paint,” Bucky said pointing to the black paint on the floor.

“Oops,” He replied.

After eating and cleaning the paint, life started to normal. Steve staying til he found an apartment close by which James couldn’t understand why he was leaving. After Steve told him that he could come over and have guy night he decided that Steve could move out. And with Bucky back James basically pushed you aside and preferred his dad. Everything Bucky did James did. Everything Bucky ate James ate, even vegetables.

“James, I have been trying to get you to eat your vegetables for ever and now that your dad is here you love vegetables,” you asked when you saw him finish his carrots.

“No vegetables are gross but I want to be just like daddy and daddy eats vegetables,” he replied making a face over how gross he thought carrots where.

After he got in trouble for painting his arm James decided to do the next best thing and waste all the foil in the house to wrap is arm. You even caught his pretending to be Bucky while he was playing in the back yard.

“What,” Bucky said wrapping his arms around you are you watched James play.

“Red Skull I am the winter soldier and I am here to put an end to you and the rest of hydra,” James said pointing his toy gun and sarge who was wearing a red hat.

“He idolizes you,” you said resting your head against Buck’s shoulder.

“Jealous,” he asked kissing your neck.

“No just annoyed that he is a mini you.”

“Daddy come play,” James called.

Bucky walked outside and pulled you with him. James explain how Bucky would be on his team.

“We are stopping Sarge, he’s the red skull. And im you so you can be… Uncle Te.”

“What about me,” Steve asked waking into the back yard.

“You can be a bad guy with mommy cause she needs a partner,” James said placing Sarge’s red hat on you.

“Why am I the red skull,” you asked slightly offended.

“Cause you get mad a lot and look like him,” James stated like it was a known fact.

Bucky and Steve started laughing while you took the hat off and changed James around to get back at him.

“Daddy, mommy is crazy help me,” James yelled at the top of his lungs which caused Bucky and Steve to laugh more.

Bucky was too busy laughing so James stopped running and took of his jacket to reveal his foil arm and held it out.

“I am Sargent James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th infantry of the US army and I order you to stop chasing me,” he said and crossed his arms.

You stopped and just took in your son’s appearance. “Mommy you look really pretty,” James said with the same smirk Bucky gives you when he is trying to apologize or get himself out of trouble. Yea James was defiantly Bucky Jr.

[trini-trin-trin]

Sharing this from a FB group that I am in. I was very moved by the article and felt affinity with the experiences shared. A really sweet read.

Here is the article if you don't want to click on the link (I know it is a little long, but well worth your time to read!):

The letter I received ten years ago was unsigned and bore no return address. Clearly its author did not expect, much less want, a reply. A message in a bottle, from no one to no one, that letter still remains the most bizarre form of communication. It asks nothing but to be read, promises nothing but to share a few facts and feelings, and, seeing that it must have been dashed off on a lined yellow sheet that seemed hastily torn out of a pad of paper, the author would not be surprised if, after skimming through it, the recipient decided to crumple and lob it into the closest dust bin.

The letter is one page long. One page is enough. The handwriting is uneven, perhaps because the author had lost the habit of writing in longhand and preferred the keyboard. But his grammar is perfect. The man knew what he was doing. I assume he was writing the note by hand because he didn’t want traces of it on his laptop, or because he knew he was never going to send it as an email and risk a reply. Now that I think of it, he probably didn’t care if it even reached its recipient, a local Bay Area reporter who had mentioned my novel about two young men who fall in love one summer in Italy in the mid-1980s. The reporter eventually forwarded it to me, minus its envelope with the postmark. It took no time to see that all the author of the letter was looking for was a chance to blurt out the words he couldn’t dare breathe elsewhere.

My book had spoken to him. His letter spoke to me.

So here it is: dated April 16, 2008.

I came upon Mr. Aciman’s book while on a business trip back East. Not the type of book I am normally able to read, so I bought a copy for the flight home. I think I’m glad I did.

You see, I was Elio. I was 18 and my Oliver was 22. Though the time and place were different, the feelings were remarkably the same. From believing that you are the only person who has these feelings, to the whole “he loves me – he loves me not” scenario, Mr. Aciman got it right. I was particularly impressed with the attention he gave to the morning after Elio’s and Oliver’s first encounter. The guilt, the loathing, the fear. I felt it too much. I had to put the book down for a while.

But in the end I was able to finish the book before we landed at SFO. Which was good, because I couldn’t take the book home. Unlike Elio it was I who married and had children. My Oliver died from AIDS in 1995. I’m still living a parallel life. My name is not important. His name was Dwight.

Instead, I kept the letter. I kept it for ten years.

What moved me was not just its sobering matter-of-factness or its hint of downplayed sorrow, but the associations it provoked in my mind. It reminded me of those short, clipped messages to loved ones, written by people about to be shipped off to the death camps who knew they’d never be heard from again. There is a chilling immediacy about their hurriedly scribbled notes that say everything there is to say in the fewest possible words — there wasn’t enough time for more, no smarmy pieties, no hand-wringing, no treacly hugs and kisses before the tragic end. It also made me think of the moving phone messages left by those who finally realized they were not going to make it out alive from the Twin Towers and that only their family’s answering machine was going to take their call.

“My name is not important,” he writes, almost as an apology for remaining anonymous; yet the author drops quite a number of hints about himself — hints he likely knows will stir his reader’s wistful curiosity to know what made him write the letter in the first place, what he hoped to accomplish, and if writing did indeed help. The letter itself allows us to see that he travels for business. We also sense that he probably lives in the Bay Area and that he travels not infrequently to the East Coast, since, as he writes, he is “back” in the East. And we know one thing more: that he simply needed to come out and tell someone that a man called Dwight had been his lover when the two were young. The rest is a cloud. We’ll never know more. Writing has served its purpose. We write, it seems, to reach out to others. Whether we know them or not doesn’t matter. We write to put out into the real world something extremely private within us, to make real what often feels unreal and ever so elusive about ourselves. We write to give a shape to what would otherwise remain amorphous. This is as true about authors as about those who want to correspond with them. Over the years, many have written to me either after reading or seeing Call Me by Your Name. Some tried to meet me; others confided things they’d never told anyone; and some even managed to call me at the office and, on speaking about my novel, would eventually apologize before bursting out crying. Some were in jail; some were barely adolescents, others old enough to look back at loves seven decades past; and some were priests locked in silence and secrecy. Many were closeted, others totally out; some were widows who felt a resurgence of hope if only by reading about the loves of two young men called Elio and Oliver in Italy; some were very young girls eager to meet their long-awaited Oliver; and some recalled former gay lovers whom they’d occasionally bump into years later but who’d never acknowledge what they’d once shared and done together when both were schoolmates and neither was married. All were keenly aware of living a parallel life. In that parallel life things are as they perhaps should be. Elio and Oliver still live together. And no one has secrets there.

Unlike Dwight’s lover, everyone who took the time to write to me did not withhold their names, but all had, at one point or another, withheld something very primal. They withheld it from themselves, from a relative, from a friend, a classmate, or colleague, or from a beloved who would never have guessed what troubled longings seethed below their averted gaze whenever they crossed paths.

Some readers wrote to tell me they felt that my novel had changed them, and given them new insights into themselves; some felt it was urging them finally to turn a new leaf in their lives. But some couldn’t go so far and, despite their perfect command of language, confessed lacking the words to explain why they were so moved by my novel or why they felt an unresolved longing for things they’d never considered or desired before. They were experiencing an upwell of emotions and of ungraspable might-have-beens that were asking to be reckoned with because they seemed more real than life itself, a sense of themselves that beckoned from an opposite bank they’d never known was there and whose potential loss now was a source of inconsolable grief. Hence their tears, their regrets, and the overpowering sense of being lost in their own lives.

And yet, they said, theirs were not tears of sorrow. They were tears of recognition, as though the novel itself were a mirror for readers to watch their own emotions laid bare before them. These responses made me aware that Call Me by Your Name does not call attention to anything readers didn’t already know, nor does it bring new truths or revelations; all it does is shed new light on things that were long familiar but that they never took the time to consider. It would be so tempting to say that they are reminded of their forgotten first loves; the truth is that all loves, even those that occur late in life, are first loves. There is always fear, shame, reluctance, and not a tiny dose of spite. Desire is agony.

Everyone who’s read Call Me by Your Name understands not only the struggle both to speak and hold back their truth but also the shame that comes whenever we want something from someone. Desire is always cagey, always secretive — we’ll tell everyone we know about the person we crave to hold naked in our arms, but the very last one to know this will be the person we crave. Same-sex desire is even more guarded and watchful, especially in those who are just discovering their sexuality. Awkwardness and desire are strange bedfellows at a young age, but shame and inexperience are just as paralyzing as fear when we watch them tussling with the urge to be bold. You’re torn between the raw horniness that makes you dream scenes you hope to forget as soon as you’re up and the scenes you pray you’ll dream again and again — if dreams are all you’ll have. Silence and solitude exact a cost that leaves us emotionally wrecked. At some point we need to speak.

So “is it better to speak or die?” asks Elio, the narrator of Call Me by Your Name, quoting words penned by the sixteenth-century Marguerite de Navarre in her collection of tales known as The Heptameron. Marguerite was the sister of King Francis I and the grandmother of Henry IV, himself the grandfather of Louis XIV, hence she was plenty familiar with court intrigue, gossip, and the risks of opening up to someone who may not welcome what’s in our heart and could easily make us pay for it. Not everyone who has written to me has dared to speak their hearts to those they loved. Some have sought silence — slow, lingering droplets of quiet desperation taken every night before bedtime until they realize they’ve been dead and didn’t even know it. Many have written to me with the feeling of having missed their chance when someone tethered his rowboat to their jetty and simply asked them to jump in. “Some sentence or thought on almost every page,” writes a reader, “triggers tears and knots my throat and chest. Tears well up in my eyes on the subway, at my computer at work, walking down the street. Perhaps I am weeping in part because I know that at my age there is virtually no possibility of experiencing anything remotely comparable to what Elio experiences with Oliver.” Someone else writes, “Reading Call Me by Your Name made me feel a love I never had.” A happily married 50-plus colleague took me aside and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this much in love in my whole life.” “I'm 23,” tweeted someone else, “and have never felt such love, until I read Call Me by Your Name. I feel like I lived it.” “Elio and I are essentially the same age,” writes a teenage girl. “I have never really experienced his environment of the Italian summer…My experiences have only taken place halfway between nature and smog, however I have felt the same tension, fear, guilt and overwhelming love that you express perfectly through both Elio and Oliver…Finding myself in Elio was something I never expected and I’m positive that I won’t experience anything quite like it ever again. The first girl I ever loved remains…the only girl I have ever loved and though everything she and I shared…lives now as a secret between two friends.” “I finished reading Call Me by Your Name a couple of days ago,” writes someone else, “and wanted to let you know how much it affected me. It felt like a narration of my thoughts that I had systematically buried long ago.” And finally this from a 72-year-old: “I was fascinated by the idea of parallel lives where would I have been if I had gone with him, where would I be if I traveled alone? Maybe the point is just what do I do with the gift you have given me during the remainder of my life.”

There are at least 500 more such letters and emails.

Some find themselves weeping at the end of the film or the novel, not for what happened long ago or for what did not and might never happen in their own lives but for what has yet to happen, for the terrifying moment when they too will soon have to decide whether to speak or die. This from an 18-year-old: “[Your novel] gives me hope that one day I will meet someone whom I desire so badly that I’ll actually find it in me to make a move, the way Oliver is that someone for Elio. Maybe my Oliver will also turn out to be someone that I realize I love as well as desire.” She was crying for a week, as was this 15-year-old young man: “I stopped reading…because I didn’t want [the book] to end, didn’t want the wounds that you caused me to close, I didn’t want to overcome, for some reason that I have yet to find out. I wanted to stay a wreck, emotionally and mentally fragile….My mother handed me tissues because she had never seen me cry like this. I had finished your book and ‘moved’ is too weak a word to express what your book had done to me. Here a week later and it is literally all I can think about, not my midterms coming up, but…Elio and Oliver and if it is better to speak or die. You answered questions I didn’t even think I had.”

Indeed, the whole novel seems to enable the outing of all manner of feelings, feelings from Elio’s relentless inward journey and obsessive self-examination that readers are invited to identify with. Through Elio’s unfettered introspection they too feel exposed and sliced open like a crustacean without a slough, now forced to look at itself in the mirror. No wonder they are moved. The mask that is torn off their faces is not just the mask that conceals same-sex desires from themselves and from others. Rather, it is the realization, through Elio’s voice, of what they truly feel, who they truly are, what they fear, what bears their signature, and what coy little shenanigans they go through to read others and hope to reach them. Some identified with some effusive sentences in my novel so much that they had them tattooed on their bodies. They even attach photos of these tattoos. People have also tattooed peaches on themselves!

But what moves most people — and this is as true now as it was when the novel first came out — is the father’s speech. Here he not only tells his son to nurse the flame and “don’t snuff it out” after his son’s lover has left Italy, but that he too, the father, envies his son’s relationship with a male lover. This speech tears away the last vestige of a veil between reader and truth and is a moving tribute to the irreducible honesty between father and son.

Most readers have written to me about the scene because the father’s speech rekindles the very difficult moment when they decided to come out to their parents — or, as is often the case with people 60, or 70 or older, it reminds them of the conversation they wished they’d had but never did have with their parents. This is the loss no one forgets and from which no one recovers after seeing Call Me by Your Name. It bears the very essence of that precious and life-defining might-have-been moment that never happened and never will.

Here is the speech:

“Look…[y]ou had a beautiful friendship. Maybe more than a friendship. And I envy you. In my place, most parents would hope the whole thing goes away, or pray that their sons land on their feet soon enough. But I am not such a parent. In your place, if there is pain, nurse it, and if there is a flame, don’t snuff it out, don’t be brutal with it. Withdrawal can be a terrible thing when it keeps us awake at night, and watching others forget us sooner than we’d want to be forgotten is no better. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything — what a waste!...

“… {L]et me say one more thing. It will clear the air. I may have come close, but I never had what you had. Something always held me back or stood in the way. How you live your life is your business. But remember, our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. Most of us can’t help but live as though we’ve got two lives to live, one is the mockup, the other the finished version, and then all those versions in between. But there’s only one, and before you know it, your heart is worn out, and, as for your body, there comes a point when no one looks at it, much less wants to come near it. Right now there’s sorrow. I don’t envy the pain. But I envy you the pain.”

I received the anonymous letter sometime in early May 2008. At the time, I was staying at my parents’, because my father was suffering from throat and mouth cancer and was already in hospice care. He had refused radiation and chemotherapy, so I knew his days were numbered; though morphine was clouding his mind, he was still lucid enough to bandy a few quips about a host of subjects. He had stopped eating and drinking water because swallowing had become very painful. One afternoon while I was stealing a nap, the phone rang. A reporter I’d met in California had just received a letter, which she wanted to share with me. I told her to read it over the phone. After she’d read it I asked if she felt she could mail it to me. I wanted to show it to my father, I said, and explained he was dying. She felt for me. We talked about my father for a while. I told her I was trying to make it up to him these days, and that he too had been exceptionally easy to be with. How was it growing up with him? she asked. Tense, I replied. Always is, she added. Then the conversation ended, and she promised to mail the letter soon.

After hanging up, I got out of bed and went in to see him. Over the past few days, I had made a point of reading to him, which he liked a great deal, especially now that he was having difficulty focusing. But rather than read to him the memoirs of Chateaubriand, one of his favorite authors, and feeling buoyed by the letter I’d been read on the phone, I asked if he’d like me to read from the French translation of Call Me by Your Name, the galleys of which I had just received from Paris that very morning. Why not, since you wrote it, he said. He was proud of me. So I began to read from the very beginning, and soon enough I knew I was opening up a subject neither he nor I had ever broached before. But I knew he knew what I was reading and why I was reading it to him. This made me happy. Perhaps it made him happy as well. I’ll never know.

That evening, after the rest of us had dinner, he asked if I could continue reading from my novel. I was nervous about arriving at the father’s speech because I didn’t know how he’d react to it, though he was the kind of father who would have given that very same speech himself. But the speech was two hundred pages away still, and that would have taken many, many days. Perhaps I should skip some parts, I thought. But no, I wanted to read him the whole book. My father didn’t last long enough to hear the father’s speech. And when the letter finally arrived from California, he was already gone. His name was Henri, he was 93 years old, and he inspired everything I’ve written.

[primsycoldbottles]

bnha 3 13 23 gimme.

3. have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion?

bold of u to assume i ever followed bnha blogs but YES i have bc ive stopped caring abt following ppl who i disagree with <3 esp since the person was a horny lov apologist lol

13. unpopular opinion about XXX character?

u asked 2 do this abt bakugou so like. ummm.... i think he’d make a good main char tbh. like real true main char like izuku is. purely bc ppl forget protags dont need to be sunshine and rainbows and can start off as mean and bad and either grow to be nice ppl or just like.. also just dont fucking woobify him?? the fandom either despises him and treats him like the worst person alive OR they act like hes done nothing wrong ever and its like. have u forgotten how he interacts w izuku and most other ppl?? he has the potential to grow and be a good person (and in the manga i think he has grown somewhat but... i literally dont fucking care abt keeping up w bnha anymore) but.... hes not really that nice and has Issues he needs 2 work thru lol pls treat him like the 3 dimensional character he is

13. unpopular character you love?

ive already said saiko when wirt asked but!! ill say hatsume too cuz i mentioned her in the tags. anyways i hate horikoshi and would punch him given the chance bc he literally introduces hatsume w a titty shot :/ but goddamn she has SO MUCH POTENTIAL since shes an uber smart mechanic who works in the support classes and i think she was such a wasted character bc horikoshi cannot stop himself from being a creep towards teenaged girls :// anyways she lives in my head rent free so i can personally craft her backstory and reasons for being in the support classes and other things <3

[artvmvs]

Ena mexri 100. Dhladh ola :)

damn y u do this

(btw they kinda got mixed up bc i am dumb sorrry)

The meaning behind my url:  idk. just stardust but star is in greek. idek.

A picture of me: im useless and idk how to put the picture on this place specifically, ask me separately if you do want one

How many tattoos i have and what they are: im a minor so none yet, but I’d like some in the future!

Last time i cried and why: ..no idea. Probably an arguement but I don’t remember, I’m more of a silent suffering kinda gal

Piercings i have: I am currently stretching my ears and I want a helix or an industrial, ik i don’t have many but I think they’re really cool

Favorite band: don’t make me choose

Biggest turn offs: dunno. does this mean generally pet peeves or nah,, 

Biggest turn ons: uhm i am a child!!! neck bites tho  we’re not diving deeper

Age: 16 

Ideas of a perfect date: something chill and not formal like maybe exploring the city or watching movies together at home or cinema idk, something exciting 

Life goal: bold of you to assume i have any goals for the future

Piercings i want: as i said, right now helix or industrial

Relationship status: single :))

Favorite movie: i currently like heathers and the imitation game but i really gotta watch new stuff I just never get around to it

A fact about my life: i didn’t think I would live to 2018, or at least whole (due to an unfortunate series of events) , but here i am binch  y’all have to tolerate me now!! sucks to be you

Phobia: fish and insects freak me out because they’re tiny n I don’t want them near me bc they are fast little shits and also I could literally touch them and they’d die and it freaks me out. or at least that’s what i use to justify me acting like a little bitch

Middle name: dont have one

Height: 165cm or as the ‘muricans like to call it  5'4 i think

Are you a virgin?: yes

What’s your shoe size?: um?? in greece we use different sizing i think? so in greece im a 37  but i looked it up and im a 6.5 in us and a 4.5 in the uk im VERY confused but basically smol

What’s your sexual orientation? i currently identify as a lesbian

Do you smoke, drink, or take any drugs? i,,have,,,, drank beer once,,

Someone you miss: @221b-unicornstreet​ and people i cant tag

What’s one thing you regret?: not defending myself enough,,? I certainly have done many regrettable things but they’ve already happened now.. so

First celebrity you think of when someone says attractive: uhm BRYAN DECHART bitch i know im a lesbian but let me have this bc he is actually attractive and this is what came to mind rn so shut

Favorite ice cream?: i like vanilla flavour  dONT make that joke 

One insecurity: nose. spine.

What my last text message says: ‘’because it can mean either’’ im very interesting 

Have you ever taken a picture naked? nope

Have you ever painted your room? i want to

Have you ever kissed a member of the same sex? nYES

Have you ever slept naked? i think? in my?? underwear?? but not completely 

Have you ever danced in front of your mirror? i,,yes

Have you ever had a crush? kinda

Have you ever been dumped? yes

Have you ever stole money from a friend? no???

Have you ever gotten in a car with people you just met? i dont think so

Have you ever been in a fist fight? nope im weak LMAO you’d probably kill me by pushing me tbh

Have you ever snuck out of your house?  i’ve snuck into a house when i was six, i know im very cool.

Have you ever had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back? yeah

Have you ever been arrested? nope

Have you ever made out with a stranger? IVE NEVER MADE OUT WITH ANYONE DONT

Have you ever met up with a member of the opposite sex somewhere? met?? up?? a date?? kinda ,, (regrets)

Have you ever left your house without telling your parents? idrk

Have you ever had a crush on your neighbor? nah fam

Have you ever ditched school to do something more fun? if by more fun you mean cry myself directly back to sleep then yes, every week from grade 4-7 but now i dont have the ability to miss school for so many days,, still do tho, but less frequently 

Have you ever slept in a bed with a member of the same sex? yes

Have you ever seen someone die? no

Have you ever been on a plane? yup

Have you ever kissed a picture?,, i mean i was made to kiss pictures in church thanks mom!!

Have you ever slept in until 3? i do that every day in summer

Have you ever love someone or miss someone right now? i do miss someone now as ive said

Have you ever laid on your back and watched cloud shapes go by? yeah

Have you ever made a snow angel? yess

Have you ever played dress up? i think

Have you ever cheated while playing a game? probably when i was younger

Have you ever been lonely? hasnt everyone at some point tbh? but  not a frequent occurrence, at all

Have you ever fallen asleep at work/school? yes, from exhaustion

Have you ever been to a club? …unfortunately, 0/10 would NEVER do it again

Have you ever felt an earthquake? yeah, i live in greece dude of course i have

Have you ever touched a snake? not really… which is sad

Have you ever ran a red light? i dont drive

Have you ever been suspended from school? nope 

Have you ever had detention? i was made to sit in a corner once dgkdhfkg we don’t have detentions

Have you ever been in a car accident? no

Have you ever hated the way you look? always fam

Have you ever witnessed a crime? no i dont think

Have you ever pole danced? HH NO

Have you ever been lost? sorta

Have you ever been to the opposite side of the country? if you count athens then yeah, if you count the islands which i dont see why you wouldnt then no

Have you ever felt like dying? i’ve felt like i was dying and i’ve felt like i wanted to die both buddy

Have you ever cried yourself to sleep? i guess uwu

Have you ever sang karaoke? hell NO

Have you ever done something you told yourself you wouldn’t? probably a bunch of times and on a daily basis, i live to disappoint 

Have you ever laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? yES

Have you ever slept with someone at least 5 years older or younger? no?

Have you ever kissed in the rain? nope

Have you ever sang in the shower? always

Have you ever made out in a park? nope

Have you ever dream that you married someone? i think i have

Have you ever glued your hand to something? nope

Have you ever got your tongue stuck to a flag pole? ,,no

Have you ever ever gone to school partially naked? ,,nO

Have you ever been a cheerleader? nope

Have you ever sat on a roof top? yesh

Have you ever brush your teeth? ,,, YES??

Have you ever ever too scared to watch scary movies alone? SCARY MOVIES SCARE THE LIVING DAYLIGHT OUT OF ME AND I KNOW ITS STUPID DONT BULLY ME

Have you ever played chicken? no

Have you ever been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on? i’ve been pushed into the ocean with all my clothes on and some money too

Have you ever been told you’re hot by a complete stranger? on tumblr where the magic happens yes because yall havent seen my face

Have you ever broken a bone? no

Have you ever been easily amused? on the not so frequent occasion i get in that mood i laugh at absolutely everything

Have you ever laughed so hard you cried? yyess love that

Have you ever mooned/flashed someone? n o

Have you ever cheated on a test? yup yuup

Have you ever forgotten someone’s name? always

Have you ever met someone who didn’t seem real? what does that mean

Give us one thing about you that no one knows. i cried when i realised im gay because i thought i want going to hell (im an atheist now)

Top 5 (insert subject): top 5 what anon

Tattoos i want: havent really settled on anything but i’ll design it myself so…

[arachnexdragoon]

❤ five times my muse says they don’t love yours, and the one time they admit it.

send me a symbol for…  

I.

Dropping by to help the prince and his friendswith all things that went bump in the night was no longer a surprise for them.Prompto always greeted her cheerfully, while Gladiolus went straight for theinnuendo talk and Noctis tried his best to stay sharp and make no mistakes –apparently, she left quite the impression after the Vesperpool. But it was forIgnis’s reactions she waited for the most – and he usually reserved a small butsweet smile whenever she landed near him, sometimes replacing his daggers for alance so both could attack together.

His smiles and polite nods of head were gettingthe best out of Aranea – because that night, the red giant’s sword swept heroff her feet and she landed near the roadside. Graceless and painful – but ithad been the adviser who rushed up to offer his support, crushing a potion andhealing the woman without a moment of hesitation.

“Are you always this kind to your enemies?”

“No, but I am to my allies,” he repliedsmoothly, the fingertips of a right hand brushing over the injury that hadfully disappeared upon his ministrations. The battle had almost ended – thegiant was on his knees and Gladiolus was about to deliver the killing blow –and the way Ignis tarried for a moment, with her arm in his hands, didn’tescape her gaze.

“You’re too sweet, Specs. You’ll have a dozengood women offering their eternal love to you when you’re done babysittingPrince Charming.”

“You won’t be there yourself? That’s a pity,”he quipped with an amused look at her words, and Aranea just grinned wickedly.

“I’m not a good woman.”

II.

“I might be tempted to exchange my ship forthis!”

Ignis offered her a smile in return; theRegalia was quite something indeed, especially during beautiful nights. Thesleek vehicle had the elegance of the models no longer produced in Lucis, whileretaining the engine efficiency and all the comforts required of newer cars. Itwas really a pleasure to drive one around – and the dragoon had been more thanhappy to be taken for a ride.

“Well, the car is part of his majesty’sinheritance. A connection to our former king, in a sense,” Ignis added in amuch somber tone, and Aranea knew what it meant; Regis’s death had been thework of cowards and she took no pride of Niflheim’s efforts there. At timeslike these, the commodore felt the abyss between them grow deeper – how couldthey pretend that these secret outings were innocent when they both had theirallegiances clearly settled?

Well, at least the royal adviser had his…

“I could, however, as the designated driver andcaretaker of the vehicle, allow for someone else to take the wheel, as long asI am confident that the guest driver would follow my every command,” he spokelowly, reducing the speed and finding a good parking spot just after the bridgethey had crossed. The woman turned to him, eyes wide with wonder and surprise,leaning over to cover his hand with hers when he moved to unfasten theseat belts. “You’re serious?”

“I am.”

“Damn, I could kiss you for this, Ignis,” shesaid and the adviser coughed politely, looking very much pleased with the offerbut assuming the gentlemanly role expected of him when he stepped out of thecar and waited until Aranea was behind the wheel to take over the shotgun seat.Before she turned on the car, he reached over and placed the belt in place,giving her an infuriating smirk.

“Remember, you have to follow my every command.”

“Why, are you going to command me to leave theEmpire, work for Noctis and marry you too?” she asked with a chuckle, but Ignisjust regarded her with a mysterious gaze in his eye before wordlessly allowingher to take the car for a spin. “Perhaps.”

“You drive a hard bargain for a test drive,Specs.”

“Don’t I always?”

III.

“So you guys are going to Altissia.”

Ignis appeared to be surprised at her words;but Aranea merely chuckled at his expressions and waved a hand, freeing him ofany guilt related to whatever he thought he had messed up. “Come on, Iggy. Giveme some credit. I know I’m brute force but I have some brains… Lunafreya isthere and the army’s gotta move to Accordo soon. The marriage thing is stillgoing strong.”

The adviser appeared to be more at ease afterher words; it made indeed sense for her guess – once it had been declared thatboth the prince and the oracle had survived the treaty signing, the hopes forthe wedding were restored and the work resumed. It was no longer a secret thatthe army was very interested in that too, and just how much they’d be able tointerfere would depend on the permission from the Accordian first secretary.

“Yes, we are. You have unknowingly helped us,even. That was the reason we required the mythril and you so kindly assistedus.”

“By ‘kindly’ you mean ‘having the chancellortelling me to’, then yeah. I’m the kindest woman you ever met,” she laughedwhile looking at the night scenery, away from the lights of Old Lestallum. Theyhad met there, and climbed to the rooftop of the motel. They could talk freelythere, as well as enjoy some peace and quiet away from Ignis’s friends and hermen without a lot of difficult questions.

“You are one of the kindest women I’ve evermet,” he replied softly, holding her gaze when Aranea turned to look at him;Ignis meant it – every word. And how could he think that she was kind when hehad been working for the side causing nothing but misery to his prince? Well,she wasn’t the paragon of loyalty, sure, but…

“You sure have a twisted notion of kindness,handsome,” she commented eventually, seeing his serious look morphing into oneof quiet amusement; but he shook his head and pushed his glasses into place. “Kindnesshas many forms, as does love. One could go an entire life without realizingthat or even having the chance to witness them all.”

“Yeah, I bet I’m one of them. I don’t dokindness or love easily, honey,” she inched closer to the adviser, he breathghosting over his ear, “No one can survive Niflheim by being partial to either of thesethings.”

IV.

The night Aranea appeared in Cape Caem justbefore they set sail to Altissia had surprised everyone – especially Talcott,who still had the fresh memories of just how the Empire treated those whoopposed them. It had taken a lot of talking and assuring from Noctis andespecially Ignis for the boy to stay in the same room with the commodore – but hestill regarded her with uneasiness and fear.

And for the first time, Aranea realized thatshe didn’t enjoy that. She took no pleasure of making innocent children afraidof her; she was made for the battle and for where confrontation was honest –not this. Not civilians, not kids. She had been one of them and it hit tooclose to home for her to feel comfortable.

But her visit had a noble cause – she came totell them everything she knew about the Empire’s plans for Altissia. Anyleverage they could get of it, fine – she was done with Niflheim. She wasreally close to cutting her ties with the emperor, but she was responsible forher men, too. Aranea needed to do this smartly otherwise everything would endbadly for her and the rest of their unit and she’d no longer be helpful.

It had been a surprise alright, but no one actuallythought she had been lying. Biggs and Wedge were welcomed inside later and theydid a small celebration of sorts, with whatever food they had planted and thebooze from the nearest outpost. Prompto took pictures, Noctis actually made anice playlist from his phone and Gladiolus started a truth or dare game that noone would have joined under normal circumstances or sober.

The empty beer bottle spun – Ignis and Aranea.Some hushed murmurs of excitement reached her ears, because… Well. Of coursethere would be rumors. They had interacted a bit too much than people wouldhave expected, and Ignis had been sneaking away during the nights whenever ared ship appeared in the sky (but Gladiolus had told no one about that).

Aranea’s face was all about defiance. Knowingany dare would be too easy for the dragoon, Ignis then opted for something lessthan orthodox when she picked ‘dare’.

“I dare you to tell the truth, Aranea.”

“That’s not in the rules!”

“You’re complaining about someone bending therules?”

“Damn you, Specs. Okay, fine, go ahead withyour silly truth question.”

“Do you love anyone, present company included?”

Silence – utter and complete. No one hadexpected Ignis to be so bold, but then again most of their conversation wouldbe forgotten in the morning. Aranea appeared to be shocked, but she recoveredquickly and smirked in that very particular way of hers. “Yeah, handsome,” awink, “Myself.”

V.

“We’ll be assisting with the evacuationefforts. There’s little we can do to help Noct otherwise,” he explained toAranea, both drinking coffee at one of Altissia’s cafés and hidden in plainsight – different clothes, decked in the fashion of the protectorate’s capital andaway from the main streets. No one seemed to spare them a second glance, noteven the few armed Niflheim guards they had seen earlier.

“Gotcha. So you got Claustra’s support. Welldone, always heard she was quite the bitch to deal with,” Aranea mused over hercup, concealing a devilish grin when Ignis offered her a mildly surprised lookover her language. All these months of secret outings and dalliances under the moonlightand he still worried about her vocabulary.

“Oh, live a little, Iggy. The sky’s not gonnafall on your head or anything if you use a bad word,” she said with a laugh,and Ignis appeared to be even further mortified by her suggestion, although hesmiled in the end. That was more connected to the fact that Aranea had laughed –and let their hands touch over the table in a way that had been no accident. Whenthe adviser linked their fingers, she made no move to pull away.

“Well, it’s a strange moment for the world welive in. Astrals are communicating with mankind, an impenetrable city wasconquered, a fearsome dragoon warrior has decided to aid us in our quest…” andat that, Aranea just stared at Ignis with an amused expression, although halfof it was covered by the sunglasses she used and which she had slid down hernose so she could actually hold the adviser’s gaze.

“So me helping your sorry asses is on the samelevel of a fucking astral rising from the seas?”

“Indeed it is,” Ignis replied, rising her handand placing a soft kiss on her knuckles, doing all that without breaking eyecontact, “You wanted to kill us upon our first meeting, and yet now we havesecured your affections and love.”

“That’s not true!” she retorted with a laugh,removing her fingers to curl them into her fist and them bumping Ignis’sclosest arm with them, “I’m doing what’s right, damn it.”

“So are the astrals.”

VI.

“Step away from him. Now!”

Ardyn turned around, a smile gracing hisever-confident features. He sidestepped a few troopers on the ground,approaching the commodore that was the perfect definition of a war goddess –her spear was ready, her eyes burning with pure, undiluted rage and her body wasone second from snapping into the air and crushing the chancellor with theweight of her lance.

“Ah, my dear dragoon. You think you’re fit togive me orders now?” he queried in an almost cheerful tone, but a dismissivehand actually sent the nearby soldiers into motion, retreating to someplaceelse. Ardyn took step after step until he was in front of the spear, fingertipagainst the sharp end of the magitek weapon – and then traced it all the wayback to Aranea’s hands, letting go of her with a small chuckle.

“But you needn’t have worried, my love. I hav-“

“Do NOT call me that, you bastard!”

“Oh? Touchy, aren’t we?” Ardyn chuckled,circling the commodore and bowing to her as someone who politely bid hergoodbye, “But as I said, you need not worry about disobeying the chain ofcommand. I’m quite finished here, as it were… You’re welcome to help yourselfto the spoils of the war, my dear.”

A small laugh followed, what sounded sick andwrong to her ears; but Aranea ran forward, spear dropping to the side and kneeshitting the floor as fast as she could when her hands reached for the fallen bodyof the adviser on the ground. She wiped the blood away from his face, gaspingin shock when she saw the extent of his wounds.

“Specs? Shit, Ignis, can you hear me?” he onlygrunted, appearing vaguely conscious of anyone speaking to him. He recoiledfrom her touches – and that broke her heart in a million pieces, making hereyes burn hotly with tears that were begging to be shed. “Ignis, it’s alright,it’s Aranea. I’m taking you to safety, I’m taking you home…”

She quickly produced a vial of an elixir – and crushedit, healing some of his cuts and quickly using the white fabric of her uniformto clean it all. But his eyes… Nothing happened to his eyes, and the commodorepanicked. What? What kind of injury didn’t heal like that? “Ignis, can you hearme?”

“A-Aranea?”

“Yes, yes! What happened to you? How did this…Fuck,” she cursed, and Ignis moved against her, his hands searching forsomething – and then it dawned on her that he couldn’t see anything, and thathis fingers were trying to help him piece the things together, because hervoice was completely different, mixed with grief, anger and all the sadness,coupled with the tears he found streaming down from her face.

“Are you… Hurt?”

“No, I’m fine!” she replied, looking around andseeing no one else around – just fallen troopers and other bodies; it was anugly battle zone and she needed to take Ignis out of there, take him someplaceelse where he’d be safe until the rest of his friends could go to him. Becausenow… Aranea needed to run, fast. Everyone would know she was no longer part ofthe army and Bahamut knew what Ardyn had in store for her after threateninghim. But when she saw it, when the bombs landed and she ran from Ignis… Shecouldn’t help…

“I’m so sorry Ignis, I’m such a fucking stupid…Urgh,” she groaned, and raised him in her arms. The adviser appeared to beconfused by the role reversal, but Aranea could take it – she was strong andshe had trained to use a fucking huge magitek lance; she could carry Ignis’sbody to safety. He blindly clung to her, seeking some kind of support while shestarted a bumpy trek for Claustra’s estate – there he should be safe. Therewasn’t much of Altissia standing, anyway.

“You did nothing, Aranea… Ardyn, he was the onewho-“

“Precisely! I did nothing! I fucking watched itall until it was too late!” she retorted angrily, shaking her head to wipe thetears away because her hands were too busy at the moment; but he came to herhelp, sensing the distress and moving his hand over to her face, cleaning itfrom tears slowly, and almost making Aranea break down into an ugly mess ofsobs and tears right then with his damn kindness.

“Aranea… You saved my life, as far as I know. Ardyn’s…motivations, as dark as they might be… Are not to be blamed on you…”

“Ignis, please… Don’t spare my feelings. Notyou,” she swallowed hard, but kept going, finding the remnants of a bridge and crossingover the channel, her lance forgotten at where she had found Ignis. She’d comeback for it later, “Not when I’ve hurt you so much. I don’t deserve yourkindness.”

“You deserve it most than anyone…” he repliedin a shaky breath, “As well as my love.”

“Don’t talk of love. Not to me, not when…” shecouldn’t take it – she fell to the ground, kneeling over rubble and debriswhile hugging Ignis against her body; her armor was sharp and uncomfortable,but somehow he found a way to return it, embracing and comforting her whenAranea thought she least deserved it. It was so warped and twisted, so fuckingpainful…

This was not how it should have gone.

“Not when everything I love ends up sufferingand paying for my sins.”

She was sobbing; an ugly and hot mess of tearsinto his neck, and Ignis appeared to be in shock; Aranea only stopped cryingwhen his hands found her face and she understood that he wanted to speak toher, to look at her even though his eyesight had been damaged – and the efforthe must have done to get her attention should have been immense, because he waspanting and biting his lips to keep moaning from pain.

Ignis Scientia was the fucking bravest man shehad ever known at that moment.

“There’s no love… Without pain, Aranea. I’llendure mine if… If you’ll hold onto yours.”

These last words seemed to rob him of consciousness;his body relaxed in her arms and Aranea cried, incapable of stifling thescreams and hugging him against her tightly. But theraindrops on her head and the cold water along her skin brought her rationalside back, and once more the dragoon rose from the ground, the unconscious formof the adviser in her arms while she resumed her journey.

This time, nothing stopped her – Ignis hadpromised her to do his part; she would do hers. She’d hunt down every magitekfacility, she’d mess with each and every plan of the chancellor, she’d destroythe Empire from inside out and have they pay for their crimes.

There was no other way to atone – she couldonly hope that, one day, Ignis would be indeed as kind as he had always been toforgive her.

[hermanwatts]

Sensor Sweep: Witherwing, Lankhmar, Mid-List Collapse

Writers (Less Known Writes): David William Jarrett was the son of Mervyn Spencer Jarrett (1906-1986), a works engineer, and  his wife Olive Elizabeth Jenkins (1907-1997), who were married in the summer of 1940.  He had one older brother. Jarrett’s novel was Witherwing (London: Sphere, 1979: New York: Warner, 1979). It begins as a kind of heroic fantasy novel in which Witherwing, the youngest of six princes of Tum-Barlum (the name clearly modeled on Twm Barlwm, the name of a hill in south Wales, but that has no significance to the story).

      RPG (Walker’s Retreat): With last weekend’s Big Brand marketing event masquerading as a fan convention came the announcement–with no release date–of the fourth installment of its iconic isometric dark fantasy action RPG franchise. You know which one I’m talking about, and it’s not the MMORPG. I thought I’d take the time to give you all some alternatives that you may have overlooked or forgotten about, beside Path of Exile and adaptation of other Big Brand properties. This is not an exhaustive list; most of these will be linked to their Steam entries, but I advise you to look at GOG also if you want DRM-free versions or see if you can buy used physical copies.

  News (Niche Gamer): On October 22nd, the United States House of Representatives voted 410 votes to 6 (16 abstained) in favor of the CASE Act- dubbed the “Anti-Meme law” by its critics. The “Copyright Alternative in Small-Claims Enforcement Act of 2019” was introduced by Representative Hakeem Jeffries (Democrat, New York) on January 5th, 2019. The bill’s purpose was to help content creators utilize a small claims court for copyright infringement, as the current law means copyright disputes must go through the more expensive federal courts.

    Publishing (Kairos): Where have we seen this blockbuster-chasing mentality before? Oh yeah, in the likewise floundering Hollywood film and AAA video game industries. As Western civilization rapidly burns through the cultural capital inherited from Christendom, expect to see more industries falling into hit-obsessed death spirals. It’s a seductive trap. A company stumbles upon a big hit, scrambles to replicate what is in fact a black swan event, and cannibalizes its own seed corn in the process. It’s an old story.

  Comic Books (Paint Monk’s Library): Since Paint Monk’s Library began covering Marvel’s new Conan the Barbarian comic, I’ve received a slew of emails and private messages, mainly from people agreeing with our reviewers about the direction the House of Ideas has taken with such an iconic property. But for every five or six encouraging emails, I get one message from an angry reader telling me that I’m out of touch and if I don’t like Marvel’s new comics to quit reading and “go back to the nursing home to read Bugs Bunny” (Yes, I really did receive that email last month).

  Writers (PulpFest): Not long after midnight on the morning of November 5, 2019, the pulp community lost one of its cornerstones. Tom Johnson passed away after a long battle with cancer. Tom and his wife of many years, Ginger Johnson, were the longtime editors and publishers of ECHOES, a fanzine about the pulp magazines. For nearly twenty years, Tom and Ginger could be counted on for a new issue of ECHOES every other month.

  Star Wars (Digital Bibliophilia): Splinter of the Mind’s Eye is a story that takes place about a year after the events of Star Wars (or A New Hope if you prefer). It begins with Luke and R2-D2 aboard Luke’s X-Wing fighter, and Leia and C3PO aboard a Y-Wing travelling to the planet Circarpous IV to a meeting with an underground movement that had arisen against the Galactic Empire on that planet. They are to formally offer their promise of support from the Rebellion Alliance and encourage the movement rise against it’s oppressors.

  Art (DMR Books): Howard Pyle has rightly been called “The Father of American Illustration.” Before Pyle there was a virtual nothingness when it came to American art. After, there was—perhaps—a flowering of painterly excellence unparalleled in the entire history of art. In the late 1890s, Pyle established various schools of art in Wilmington, Delaware and beyond.  Pyle’s movement has been called the “Brandywine School” in reference to the river that ran along the banks next to Pyle’s various artistic seminaries.

  Cinema (Jstor): Long before First National Pictures began production on Doyle’s dinosaur story, a young marble cutter named Willis O’Brien was sculpting tiny T-Rex figurines. According to The New York Times, O’Brien began experimenting with animation models during an apparently slow day at work. Inspired by his background in boxing, he molded a mini fighter out of clay. His coworker whipped up another clay champion, and pretty soon the two men were acting out a full boxing match with their primitive action figures. Lo and behold, O’Brien’s next production was a short test film featuring a cave man and a dinosaur (made of modeling clay and wooden joints) shot atop the Bank of Italy Building in San Francisco.

  Author Interview (Pulp Hermit): It’s not easy thinking of Will Murray as a new Pulp Author. William Patrick Murray is an author everyone should be familiar with in the new pulp movement, and definitely known throughout pulp fandom since the 1970s. He should be familiar to everyone in the new pulp community. He is one of the most prolific and knowledgeable people in the field of pulp fiction. The author of well over one hundred books, he has penned 40 Destroyer novels, and two-dozen Doc Savage novels (many based on Lester Dent’s uncompleted stories), plus King Kong, Tarzan, and The Shadow. He has also contributed to the Executioner and Mars Attacks, as well as numerous anthologies.

  Science Fiction (Quillette): But this is not the spirit of our moment. Instead, as speculative fiction becomes more diverse, the sense that it must be corrected grows, and author and art are evaluated together. There is a notable asymmetry in this evaluation. Most fiction readers are women, and many fiction genres are dominated by women. Men who write romance novels or cozy mysteries must write under female pseudonyms, because the audiences for these genres will largely avoid books by men.

Writing (Pulprev): When writing a tactical thriller with heavy action elements, you have to get around to talking about the hardware. Tools drive what the characters can and can’t do, and weapons are a big part of that. Also, guns are cool. When writing guns in fiction, a common approach is to simply drop generic terms like ‘rifle’ or ‘pistol’ and leave it at that. Some slightly more sophisticated writers drop brand and/or gun names: FN SCAR, Beretta M9, Barrett M82. It may well work for them. Most readers just want to get on with the action without being bogged down in too much detail. But I prefer a more sophisticated option.

  Pulp Fiction (Rough Edges): As you know if you’ve read this blog much, H. Bedford-Jones is one of my favorite pulp authors and indeed one of my favorite authors, period. I think he was at his strongest with historical adventure novels, so it’s no surprise that YOUNG KIT CARSON is a top-notch yarn that’s been out of print since 1941, when it appeared in the fiction supplement of a Canadian newspaper. A copy of it was discovered recently, and it’s about to be reprinted by Bold Venture Press.

  Fiction (Tentaculii): I’d never heard of Ivy Frost before, but I like the sound of him. These gun-blazing mystery-science stories all appeared in Clues Detective Stories magazine from 1934-37 (not on Archive.org), so one assumes that Lovecraft was aware of them. One wonders how may ‘little nods to Lovecraft’ Wandrei might have snuck into the stories.

    Fritz Leiber (Goodman Games): You might have heard about our recent DCC Lankhmar release. It’s a wonderfully in-depth take on the classic novels by Fritz Lieber, and licensed by his estate. If you are a fan of those novels, you might have heard of something called Rat-Snake. In the back alleys of the city of Lankhmar, money is won and lost, and lives are sometimes wagered as the ultimate prize, all on the roll of the dice. All part of a game called Rat-Snake.

  Art (DMR Books): Stephen Fabian was selling macabre artworks very early in his career, batting one out of the park with his classic cover for Whispers #2 in 1973. He would go on to do more work for Whispers over the course of that groovy decade, including the first-ever illo for Karl Edward Wagner’s “Sticks.” Stephen did several evocative paintings for Arkham House during that period, as well as covers for Centaur Press and Donald M. Grant. All in all, the 1970s were a great preview of the glorious horror art Mr. Fabian would produce in the 1980s.

  Gary Gygax (Warp Scream): I had the opportunity to interview Gary a number of years back, when I worked at CGM. I very much enjoyed talking to him, and it was fascinating to hear the history of D&D and gaming in general from his perspective. Like many people here, I’ve been a D&D geek for ages; I thought others might be interested to read what he had to say about the history of it all.

  Gaming (Walker’s Retreat): It is nice when the Fake Gamers out themselves so readily, but this performative virtual signalling is really meant to be part of the gatekeeping campaign to push their enemies–those not of the SJW Death Cult–out of the subculture and hobby, or at least its public-facing elements, so that they can control the narrative surrounding tabletop RPGs. Narrative control then becomes cultural control and feeds into political control.

Sensor Sweep: Witherwing, Lankhmar, Mid-List Collapse published first on https://sixchexus.weebly.com/