#Clean - Tabula Rasa

[pier-carlo-universe]

Clean - Tabula Rasa di Glenn Cooper: Una corsa contro il tempo per salvare l'umanità. Recensione di Alessandria today

Un thriller distopico che esplora la memoria e la fragilità della civiltà.

Un thriller distopico che esplora la memoria e la fragilità della civiltà. Recensione dettagliata.“Clean – Tabula Rasa”, scritto da Glenn Cooper e tradotto da Barbara Ronca, è un thriller distopico che immagina un mondo sconvolto da un’epidemia globale. Il dottor Steadman, vicino a sconfiggere l’Alzheimer, si ritrova responsabile involontario di un virus che cancella la memoria dell’intera…

[metanoianmayhem]

There's no tabula rasa in life.

I'm reading a story and there's a bit of dialogue.

“The more I gain, Black Queen, the more I am afraid,” he said. “What was there to fear losing, when I had nothing?”

There's been conversations about life as it moves forward - monetarily speaking. One of those is both of my jobs (okay 3 or more) are tip based and with a recession coming in and it being holidays/shortly after...

well, my belt will be tightened indeed. But it's had me thinking, recently.

I've been homeless - resulted in me purging or dumping a lot of stuff, and discovered the things I apparently won't ever let go is shoes and books.

go figure.

But now! Now I have a house! and health care! and God so much fucking debt.

To be fair, I had debt then, still, but.

I have more. I have so much more stuff! I have art!!!

I have hobbies! and furniture!

I have *multiple hair products*

I have so much more *means* than I ever did but will it be enough for me to maintain this going forward?

would it be a complete reset if I did lose the house - or more optimistically, moved.

I don't think I'd be a new person, or that moving away fixes your problems (hashtag midwesternemo) but.

But sometimes, a little bit curiously, I wonder what a reset would look like.

What would cause that for me.

Just some thoughts

[daylerogers]

There Is No Blank Slate

Ward has a passion for creating things on paper. Origami, drawing pictures with a multitude of colors, cutting paper into shapes. Nothing thrills him more than a blank sheet of paper. His imagination soars; he sees things others miss. When I was a child, I had a teacher in third grade, Mrs Dougherty, who chose a student each week to clean the blackboards and finish up by clapping the erasers…

[bending-sickle]

watching supernatural 5x01 because apparently i'm doing a rewatch after all and you’re telling me bobby - who built an whole demon-proof panic room - isn’t walking around with at least an anti-possession charm? if not a flat out tat? really?!

[danielmolloystits]

hello!! i am SheOfBadIdeas and this is my IWTV fic masterlist <3

i primarily write devil's minion (armand/daniel), though there are a couple of other pairings thrown in here for good measure. click through to see what i've been up to!

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Series & Chaptered Fics

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rewind & play it back - (Armand/Daniel, WC: ~21.6k, Rating: E). Series, ongoing, 2/3 works. Post-Season 2. Devil's Minion Era happened.

Part One: reprise. - (Armand/Daniel, WC: ~13.7k, Rating: E). Completed, 4/4 chapters. Armand POV. A take on the events leading to Daniel's turning, including a walk down memory lane. You might enjoy this fic if you like poetic prose mixed with depraved smart. Comes with art by @ladyofthecreeddraws <3 But when he met Daniel, he had already shattered into the pieces of himself that are loud, insincere, cruel. The pieces that are not worth loving, some part of his mind whispers, in a voice that could belong to Louis or to Lestat or to any number of others whom he has tried to fit inside of himself and keep, an endeavor which has only ever ended in the same blistering disappointment. And now—as he is sitting in the wreckage of another failed attempt at shaping himself into a home, covered in plaster dust from an outburst of rage only a fraction as bright as that which he deserved—now all there is left in front of him is Daniel.

Part Two: redux. - (Armand/Daniel, Daniel/Lestat, Louis/Lestat, WC: ~8k, Rating: E). Ongoing, 4/? chapters. Vampire Old Maniel. Daniel POV. The immediate aftermath of Daniel's turning and Armand's absconding. You might like enjoy fic if you like poetic prose mixed with humor and angst. Armand feeds him from the wrist and Daniel is unmade, pulled like the end of a slipknot until he once more is a thing unformed. A blank slate, tabula rasa, wiped clean. A sand castle at high tide. A snake eating its own tail. Everything eats itself in the end, comes back to where it started, and Daniel is no different. His blood is Armand’s blood is his blood, and when he gulps down mouthful after mouthful, Armand’s hand feverishly massaging his throat to aid the weak, dying muscles in forcing it down, it is himself he is drinking from.

☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⋆♱˙⛧

as soft as leather, as plush as lace - (Armand/Daniel, WC: ~6.5k, Rating: E). Completed, 2/2 fics. Devil's Minion Era (1970s-1980s).

Part One: thin like lace & twice as tight - (Armand/Daniel, WC: ~3.6k, Rating: E). Completed, 1/1 chapters. Daniel POV. Pure smut. Daniel in lingerie and a heaping helping of blood play thrown in for good measure. Made in collaboration with the brilliant, brilliant art of @ladyofthecreeddraws He’s trying not to think about it. He doesn’t want to spoil the reveal prematurely, after all. But it’s hard not to, with the satiny spandex ribbon that’s currently nestled between his ass cheeks insistent on riding up to give him a constant wedgie. “Is there a reason you’re singing ‘Femme Fatale’ so loudly in your head right now?” Armand asks from across the dinner table, a bemused grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Is our conversation boring you that terribly?”

Part Two: soon, i'll be your dog - (Armand/Daniel, WC: ~2.9k, Rating: E). Completed, 1/1 chapters. Armand POV. Smut. Lingerie and collaring and leashing. More art by @ladyofthecreeddraws, who continues to own my entire soul. Honestly I'm not sure what else you might want tbh. Armand looks down at him. At his flustered, pretty face, at his slightly parted lips. He wants to put the tip of his thumb in Daniel’s mouth, so he does, Daniel immediately opening up wider to allow the digit to slide over his tongue. So good, Armand thinks, his eyes darkening as he watches Daniel hollow his cheeks and suck. So perfect, and so very mine.

☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⋆♱˙⛧

Such Unfortunates - (Armand/Daniel, WC: ~15.5k, Rating: E). In progress, 2/12 chapters. Human Rehab AU with @shineforthee

Angst! Hurt/Comfort! Holistic approaches to recovery! The human AU set in rehab in Vancourver in the early 2000's you didn't know you needed but which you 100% do.

There’s an ice pick scraping at the inside of Daniel’s skull. The lights are too bright even from behind closed eyelids, beating down on him hot and cruel until sweat pools in every cavity of his body—which is a lot of places, he thinks, because it feels as though he’s made of holes right now. His heartbeat pounds in his abdomen like a SWAT team with a battering ram and his skin sits so tight over the meat of him that he wishes he could tear it off.

He’s had better days, to put it mildly.

☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⋆♱˙⛧

the orpheus and eurydice of recollection - (Armand/Daniel, WC: 12k, Rating: E). Completed, 66/66 chapters. Post-Season 2.

Don't look back, don't look back, don't look back.

A Devil's Minion "Choose Your Own Adventure" fic with multiple paths and endings.

☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⋆♱˙⛧

i'll keep your pillow warm - (Armand/Daniel, Armand/Louis, WC: ~37k, Rating: E). Completed, 11/11 chapters. Dubai Era. Daniel POV. A canon rewrite, starting when Armand is pretending to be Rashid and continuing therefrom, wherein Armand and Daniel are committing boatloads of infidelity. You might enjoy this fic if you enjoy the idea of Old Maniel being free use and giving Armand a truly absurd number of blowjobs, and also all the drama of cheating. When Armand was performing earlier, starring in the most insufferable one man show the journalist has ever borne witness to, he had seemed akin to a stranger—utterly foreign, so incredibly different from the boy Daniel had begun to care for. But as he is right now, unraveling on Daniel’s tongue, the vampire is almost nostalgic to him. Like sinking into the warmth of his childhood blanket.

☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⋆♱˙⛧

break up with your girlfriend, i'm bored - (Daniel/Lestat, Armand/Daniel, WC: ~3.2k, Rating: E). Completed, 2/2 chapters. Post-Season 2. Vampire Old Maniel. Daniel POV. Daniel fucks Lestat to make Armand jealous. It works. You might enjoy this fic if you like humor and smut and obvious ploys to piss of 500-year-old vampires (that work).

“No.” Lestat grabs one of Daniel’s hands in both of his own, making such intense eye contact with the journalist that it starts to grow uncomfortable. “You deserve better. You must understand this.”

“Okay,” Daniel agrees, shifting a little in his seat. Anything to move past this point in the interaction. “I deserve better.”

“Good,” Lestat says, nodding resolutely to himself. “This is why you should let me fuck you.”

☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⋆♱˙⛧

One-Shots!

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in the graveyard that is his body - (Armand/Daniel, WC: ~1.6k, Rating: M). Completed, 1/1 chapters. Post-Season 2. Vampire Old Maniel. Armand POV. Armand dissociates. Daniel grounds him. You might enjoy this fic if you like poetic prose and hurt/comfort. Made in collaboration with @ladyofthecreeddraws, which is to say, there's truly incredible art attached to this fic.

“What do you need, baby?” Daniel asks, his voice delicate as a soap bubble. Armand can just barely feel the puff of air on his neck as he speaks. He can feel, too, where Daniel’s hand rubs at his arm lightly, where his caress brings goosebumps to the surface. The parts of him that Daniel touches light up like a switchboard, like isolated stars in a constellation that hasn’t been drawn yet. Each point of contact something sharp and alive in the graveyard that is his body.

“Touch me,” Armand begs, turning his face into Daniel’s chest. Listening to the soft thud of his heartbeat, the same heartbeat that flutters beneath Armand’s rib cage. Their heart, their heart, their heart. “Everywhere, please.” ☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⋆♱˙⛧ looks just like an angel - (Armand/Daniel, WC: ~5.6k, Rating: E). Devil's Minion Era (1970s). Priest!Armand. Smut. Dubious Consent. Daniel POV. Armand pretends to be the priest running Daniel's NA, and then they have sex about it. You might enjoy this fic if you like Armand's gaslighting mindfuckery and him abusing a position of power over Daniel. Also religious imagery.

“The next step is coming to believe in a power greater than yourself.” The priest’s hands are clasped together, his thumbs twiddling idly as he speaks, “One that is capable of delivering you from your illness.”

“So, what,” Daniel deadpans. “I’ve gotta convert to Catholicism?”

“If you’re so inclined,” Father Armand responds wryly, as if he’s privy to some great secret that eludes the poor, ailing addict. Daniel wonders in that moment how old the other man is. He can’t have too many years on Daniel, surely, but he seems so much older that it’s almost a little unnerving. “However, it could be anything, really; your love for your family, your will to live. It could even be me, if you wanted.”

☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⋆♱˙⛧

call that a dinner date - (Armand/Daniel/Original Female Character, WC: ~2.5k, Rating). Completed, 1/1 chapters. Post-Season 2. Established relationship.

Daniel POV. Daniel gets dinner for him and Armand. Threesome and murder ensues.

☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⋆♱˙⛧ to pull sound from a still heart - (Armand/Daniel, WC: 1.6k, Rating: M). Completed, 1/1 chapters. Post-Season 2. Established Relationship. Armand POV. He's having a bit of an identity crisis and Daniel praise kinks him through it. You might enjoy this if you like tooth-rottingly sweet fluff that is also smutty.

Armand’s voice cracks. “Then how can I know myself?” There’s another question lying underneath it, one he can’t bring himself to voice—how can I know if I am worth anything? Daniel seems to hear it anyway.

“Well,” he starts, before placing a soft peck on Armand’s clavicle. “I’d say I know you pretty well. And aside from the fact that you never help with laundry, I think the whole package is kind of great.” ☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⋆♱˙⛧

the best policy - (Armand/Daniel, WC: 1.5k, Rating: E). Completed, 1/1 chapters. Devil's Minion Era. Established Relationship.

Daniel asks Armand to be more honest. Armand complies in brutal fashion.

“You keep missing the prostate,” Armand comments flatly. He’s practically as still as a statue, moving only from the force of Daniel’s steady, measured thrusts. “With stunning consistency.”

And, Christ, Daniel’s had about as much as he can take of the color commentary. Before he can think better of it, he grunts a harsh, “Shut up.”

“Would you rather I lie to you, Daniel?” Armand asks sweetly, looking back at him over his shoulder. “I can do that if you’d like.”

Daniel isn’t stupid enough not to realize that’s a trap.

“So there is a floor, then.” His voice is still perfectly even as he plucks the thought from Daniel’s mind. “I was beginning to grow concerned.”

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make a bow with old, cut ties - (Armand/Daniel/Louis, WC: ~3.2k, Rating: E). Completed, 1/1 chapters. Devil Minion Era. Established Relationship. Infidelity/Polyamory Negotiations.

Armand reintroduces Louis and Daniel.

Daniel feels it the most on nights like this. The guilt, he means.

Right now, a soft rain pitter-patters on the roof of the penthouse hotel room they’re in, tripping out a delicate melody that almost sounds like the tinkling of bells. Armand is curled up next to him, blood-warm and satiated, a pleased smile stretched over his pretty face as he nestles further into Daniel’s chest. Their hands tangle together, bony knuckles on bony knuckles; their legs braid so that Armand can press his still-cold feet to Daniel’s calves. It feels domestic. It feels real. As he stares down at Armand, Daniel’s heart squeezes with an overwhelming fondness for the vampire who has set up shop in his life and refuses to leave.

And somewhere, behind all of that, the guilt. It twists his guts up in a knot, makes his stomach do that swoopy roller coaster thing. Except it doesn’t stop, it just feels like he’s in a never-ending free fall. Because Armand holds him like a lover but keeps him like a secret. Because he knows that somewhere out there is Armand’s actual boyfriend.

☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⋆♱˙⛧ glaciers melting in the dead of night - (Armand/Daniel, WC: ~5.2k, Rating: E). Completed, 1/1 chapters. Post-Season 2, Episode 5. Dubai Era. Armand POV. This is really just a BDSM fic where Daniel gets to dom Armand in the Dubai penthouse. Bondage and orgasm denial. You might enjoy this if you think Daniel should get to top more.

“All this time, and you haven’t changed a bit.” The words fire from his mouth like gunshots into still air, his lips finally curling into the contemptuous sneer he’s been keeping at bay for the past several minutes. “Still nothing more than an eager black hole. An unremarkable, wanting mess of a man.”

What is it like, he wonders, to be so out of control of your own desire? To be such a slave to your own basest impulses? After five hundred years, he’s forgotten the feeling. Suddenly, he is covetous to remember. ☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⋆♱˙⛧ before you shake my tomb - (Armand/Daniel, WC: ~1.7k, Rating: E). Completed, 1/1 chapters. Devil's Minion Era. Non-Con. Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Armand POV. Daniel has been getting increasingly careless in his pursuit of cheap thrills, and Armand steps in to try to curb his impulses for the better. Somnophilia ensues. For the love of god, read the tags on this one. You might enjoy this if you're into really fucked up power dynamics and Armand "knowing what's best" for Daniel.

Daniel has grown reckless.

He can sense the phantom press of Armand at the fringes of his consciousness, just barely there like the whistle of wind through rustling leaves. Holds snippets of the vampire in his fractured mind and longs to understand the full picture of him—his form, his contours, the shades and hues that fill the lines of him. He knows Armand is there, but he doesn’t know what he is. Doesn’t know if he tastes like redemption or reckoning, if he tastes like both wrapped together like the threads in a braid. ☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⋆♱˙⛧ a study in collectivist post-dissolutive reconciliation tactics - (Armand/Daniel, Daniel/Lestat, Lestat/Louis, Lestat/Armand, Louis/Armand, Daniel/Louis, AKA the Diabolicule, WC: ~1.3k, Rating: M). Post-Season 2. Vampire Old Maniel. Polycule Fic. 3rd Person Omniscient POV. The Polycule Breakup Sex Fic. You might enjoy this if you like humor and crack.

It is harder than one might expect to divide the property of four vampires after a break-up. They’ve been at it for hours and are still only halfway through their wardrobe.

“Lestat, I’m assuming this ‘Baby Slut’ crop top belongs to you?” Louis asks with a raised eyebrow, holding the offending garment up for inspection.

“Mmm, non,” Lestat replies. “Though I would look fantastic in it, I’m sure.”

Daniel snorts. “Well, it isn’t mine.”

They all look to Armand.

“It was on sale,” he sniffs haughtily. “And the shopgirl said it made me look ‘cunty.’” ☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⛦˙♱⋆☠⋆♱˙⛧☠ ⋆♱˙⛧

and that's all for now!! mwah mwah mwah thank you for taking the time to peruse <3 drop me a comment if you end up reading any of them :)

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Summary: You're suffering from some temporary memory loss and you can only remember your relationship with Steve, forgetting your currently relationship with poor Bucky.

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: memory loss, mild angst, fluff, engagement rings

MASTERLIST

Tabula Rasa

Once again you found yourself walking up to a hard white ceiling with no recollection of how you got into the sterile hospital bed. Your vision was a little hazy and the only thing you could make clearly was a pair of dazzling blue eyes. 

“Steve?” you groaned.

Bucky frowned, clutching your hand more tightly than he was before, almost to the point of being painful. Only when you winced and tried to tug it away did he ease his grip on your digits.

“Shhh, Ace, it's okay. You're going to be fine.” Bucky tried to soothe you, trying to ignore that you had just called out for this best friend.

“Thanks Steve,” you mumbled, closing your eyes.

Bucky glanced over at his best friend who was standing nervously at the edge of the room. Steve looked back in surprise and confusion. 

“How you feeling, Ace?” Steve asked.

His familiar voice coming from a different location than you'd expected made you open your eyes again, looking for the source of the person who had first spoken. Your gaze found Bucky’s, who smiled down at you softly, greeting you with a gentle ‘hey’.

What Bucky didn't expect was for you to meet his eyes with furrowed brows and a hint of worry, and maybe fear? You looked around and found Steve, directing your question at him. 

“What happened?” you asked.

You looked so intently at Steve that Bucky wanted to reach over and turn your face back to him. He was about to explain when you pulled your hand slowly out of his grasp, giving him a small grateful smile. Your actions, the way you wiggled your fingers and made a small fist slowly told him you felt uncomfortable by his closeness. And as much as it broke his heart, he rose from his chair and backed off.

“Steve?” You called again in a small voice.

Bucky could tell you were afraid, he knew from the intonation in your voice, the way your eyes darted around.

“Hey, it's okay.” Bucky couldn't help himself, he hated seeing you look so helpless. “You got knocked out, but the doctors said no signs of permanent damage.”

Bucky's gentleness was dumbfounding and was enough to keep your attention on him for a couple of seconds, at least.  “Thank you,” you said kindly before turning back to Steve. “Why are you standing over there?”

“I… didn't want to crowd you.”

Steve stepped forwards into the harsh light of the hospital room, making your jaw drop in the subtlest of ways, a tiny gasp escaping your lips. You hadn't expected a clean shaven Steve looking far blonder than you remembered him having.

“What happened? How long was I unconscious?” You sat up gingerly, shaking off Bucky's helping hand and missing his pained expression. 

“Not long.”

“Enough time for you to shave and dye your hair.”

“Dye my-” It was Steve's turn to look over at Bucky with a frown.

“Ace, what do you remember?” Bucky asked, scowling at the lack of attention he was getting from you

You blushed before answering looking at Steve. “We went to see the baseball at Citifield.” You bit your lip, smiling at the memory before continuing. “Obviously some stuff has happened since then. And I appreciate your concern, Bucky.”

You smiled at him, but Bucky knew if was your way of telling him he was no longer needed. It was Steve you wanted, not him. He didn't need a doctor to tell him what was wrong with you. Amnesia. You had forgotten everything the two of you had shared.

He felt like his world was spinning and he wanted to throw up. Not that his body responded to signals like this anymore. He stumbled backwards, knocking over the chair and fleeing from the room. Too consumed with his own feelings that he didn't notice the concern on yours or Steve's faces. If you had been in any danger, he wouldn't have left your side, he told himself as he strode away. But the crushing feeling in his chest had become unbearable as you looked at him with a gaze of mere acquaintanceship. Gone was the knowing glint he saw when he looked in your eyes, gone was the comradery you shared, gone was the passion he ignited in you and gone was the intimacy you'd achieved.

“Right, I'm still feeling pretty clueless about what has happened, but I feel like you need to follow him,” you said to Steve, pointing after Bucky's fleeing form. 

“Yeah, I know,” Steve sighed, having reached the same conclusion as Bucky had about your state. “Will you be alright?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “go.” You encouraged him to go after Bucky, not quite understanding the surprising level of concern you felt about the former HYDRA agent's wellbeing.

“Bucky!” Steve sprinted after his best friend, calling his name.

Only Bucky couldn't hear him, lost in his own mind of fear and dejection. His constantly doubting mind told him he didn't deserve the love you had given him. That he shouldn't be surprised, it was only a matter of time until the happiness he had was taken away from him, he had stolen a life he didn't deserve and karma was here to take it all back.

It was only Steve's firm hand on his shoulder that stopped him. 

“Buck!” Steve gasped. Out of breath, not from the exertion but the anxiety he felt for his friend. “Bucky, where are you going?”

“We both know what's going on, Steve. I'm going to go and sort out everything at home, so she's comfortable when they discharge her. Is that okay with you?” His last question was more sardonic than he had intended.

“Buck…” Steve sighed.

“Look,” Bucky paused, contemplating what to say. He didn't want to see you go through the pain of Steve breaking up with you again, but it was inevitable. “Please just… be kind to her.”

Steve nodded, looking just as dejected as Bucky. He had no desire to hurt you again, but the situation couldn't be changed. And they both had to accept it.

Steve knocked on your door gently, not wanting to disturb your rest, but your eyes were on him immediately. You'd watched Steve follow Bucky out of the room and had spent the next thirty minutes trying to decipher the situation that had unfolded before you. Something felt different and you were struggling to put your finger on the issue.

Moments before Steve's return, you'd discovered a small diamond ring on your finger. You had been admiring the Edwardian design diamond cut when he appeared and you shoved your hand into the blanket in surprise, a rose flush staining your cheeks.

“Everything alright?” you asked, trying to divert attention from your less than stealthy maneuver.

“Yeah,” he answered softly. “And you?”

“Dr Kim suggested that they repeat my brain scan, what with the amnesia. Apparently I can't remember the last two years of my life.”

“About that, Ace. There are things we should probably talk about.”

“Like important things I've missed?” you laughed quietly.

Steve sighed and the weight of his exhale filled you with dread. “Ace…” You name was barely a whisper from his lips.

“Just say it, Steve.” You snapped at him, the silence getting the better of your nerves. Waiting for bad news wasn't one of your strong points.

“Look Ace, I don't really know if there is a good way to say this-”

“We're not together anymore. Right?” Tears welled up in your eyes slowly, your fears confirmed by the sadness on Steve's face. 

“I'm sorry.”

He let you sit with the news, giving you the space to process things in your own time. It's what you deserved, rather than the way things played out the first time where you'd caught him kissing Peggy outside your own apartment.

“Can I ask what happened?” you mumbled, dreading the answer even before you'd voiced the question. “Why didn't it work?”

“It wasn't … I didn't mean to hurt you.” Steve looked down at his hands, not meeting your eyes.

You wanted to know more but couldn't bear to ask. It was a little like wanting to avert your gaze from a horrifying scene but not being able to. 

“I still care about you. It's just that sh-”

You almost wished he wouldn't try to make you feel better. The question slipped from your lips before you could control your mouth.

“Who is she?”

“Peggy,” he said softly. He sounded almost sorrowful.

"What?” you exclaimed, face filled with surprise and confusion. “Peggy? Your Peggy?”

“Yeah.”

It felt like your world was spinning and you wondered if you'd hit your head harder than everyone had thought. Your ears were ringing and Steve suddenly seemed so far away. You were alone, again. Tears burned your eyes as they welled up under your lids. You felt like you couldn't breathe.

It wasn't until Steve's strong warm hands were wrapped around your arms that you realized you were shaking. When you finally looked up at him, blurry from your unshed tears, he took your face in his hands. Gently, he wiped away the streaks of water from your face with his thumbs.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered again.

And you believed him. You sat wrapped in his embrace until one of the orderlies came to collect you for your brain scan.

They let you go home without much of a fuss. At least the journey was familiar and Steve stayed with you, much to your surprise. It was awkward for you to discover that you still lived opposite your ex and his old/new girlfriend. More awkward still was the way she greeted you, like a close friend, not taking offense at your aloofness.

Shutting the door to your apartment was a welcome relief from the attention you'd received since you'd woken up but left you feeling more alone than ever. You walked around surveying your home. It felt familiar but there were things out of place, almost like someone had gone around and removed random items. Not that you could detect the absence of anything significant. It just felt like something was missing and you assumed that it was because you'd just lost Steve. That night you fell asleep nursing the gaping hole in your life. 

Ever since Bucky had moved his things out of your apartment, he had waited every morning in Prospect Park. Just to see if he could see you running. He would keep his distance, just as he had done before. Maybe he would even be able to recreate the relationship you had. But every day he felt this hope slipping away as he never saw you leave your home for a morning run.

Needless to say, Bucky was worried about you. He didn't know how you were holding up. He wanted to hold you, to comfort you, to love you. There was a gnawing ache inside his chest which grew every day that he couldn't talk to you. He had taken to staring up at your window from across the street. No one noticed. He hadn't been called a ghost story for no reason. It was a dreary wet fall afternoon that he succumbed to his urges and let his feet carry him up towards your apartment. He caught Steve and Peggy leaving via the building and dodged out of sight, not wanting to explain his presence. They looked so content together and Bucky felt his insides burn with jealousy. Not of who Steve had, but what he had.

There was something inside him pulling him to you, a longing that drew him in. He didn't know why or how, but it was like he knew you needed him. He climbed the stairs up to your apartment two steps at a time, feeling his heart practically stopping as he noticed your front door was ajar. He crept across the corridor and peered through the crack, looking for signs of a struggle. Surely Steve would have noticed if something was amiss and not have left you alone?

The sound of your soft sobs caught his ears amidst the angry crashes of a broom against the hard wooden floor. Bucky pushed the door open in search of you. He immediately saw you behind the couch, furiously sweeping the floor with tears running down your cheeks.

“Ace,” he called out gently so as not to startle you. It didn't work as well as he hoped as you jumped at the sound of his voice. “Sorry.”

“Bucky?” You looked surprised to see him. “What’re you doing here?”

“I-” Bucky hesitated for a moment before deciding on choosing a form of the truth. “I came to see how you are.”

He watched your brows furrow in confusion.

“Why?” you asked.

Bucky knew he deserved your suspicion. As far as you were concerned, he was not your biggest fan. “May I?” He pointed at the couch, asking permission for a seat.

You nodded apprehensively, watching him through narrowed and reddened eyes as he took a seat and patted the couch beside him so you cast aside the broom and sat down. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to you. 

“You remember when I had a nightmare and Steve wasn't around and you were there for me?” He waited for you to nod your remembrance. “Well, think of this as returning the favor. We are friends after all.”

“We are?” you asked, surprise evident in your voice. Even more so by the softness of his smile and the familiarity with which he looked at you.

“If you'll still have me?” 

“Yeah,” you smiled through your tears. You were atonished at how comforting his presence was.

You gazed at him out of the corner of your eye as he pulled out his phone and started typing. It was his rather feeble attempt to avoid looking at you, because if he started, he knew he would never be able to tear himself away.

“I can’t find mine.”

“Sorry?” Bucky frowned, not quite keeping up with your train of thought.

“My phone.” You pointed at his. “I seem to have lost it. I'll have to get a new one so I can download everything. Might give me some clues about my life and what I've missed.”

You missed the look of panic on Bucky's face. What if you saw the photos of the two of you together and were disgusted by it? His mind told him that you weren't so cruel that you'd show him that revulsion, but his traumatized mind wouldn't let him believe anything else. He had spent year convincing himself that you couldn't possibly love him, then by the grace of God you had give him a chance, a chance he never expected and didn't think he deserved. All to have it taken away.

“Is that a good idea?”

“What if it helps me remember?”

“Or it could just be very overwhelming.”

“Didn't you want to know everything you'd forgotten.”

“Yeah, and it was a lot.”

You sighed, you felt impatient and annoyed. There was a gaping hole in your life and you wanted to know what had filled it. Was it just Steve's absence or was there something else?

“Is it ridiculous that I'm grieving over a relationship that ended two years ago?”

“It isn't two years for you.”

“I feel so alone,” you sniffled.

Bucky put his arm around you, and somehow you didn't feel as bad as you did a moment ago, almost like this was where you were meant to be. His warm palm covered your upper arm and he gently stroked your skin with his thumb. It felt so natural and comfortable, like you'd done it many times before. For the first time since you'd woken in the hospital bed, you felt safe. 

You looked up at Bucky, wondering how the man had gone from hating you to becoming the person who was consoling you. He looked different, you noticed, the longer you stared at him. Gone were the dark circles under his eyes and the gaunt haunted look that plagued his handsome features. You were a little disappointed to see that he had cut his long hair, not that his short crops detracted from his appearance in any way. Mostly you surmised that he seemed happier than the last time you remembered seeing him. It warmed your heart to see how far he seemed to have come.

A small flush crept across your cheeks as Bucky caught you staring at him. It got even darker as your stomach rumbled loudly.

“You should take care of yourself better, you know that right?”

You shrugged and Bucky sighed.

“You spend all your time taking care of everyone else, you forget about yourself.” He got up and walked over to the closet by the front door. You watched curiously as he opened it and pulled out a motorcycle helmet. “Come on.”

“Wait, did I learn to ride a motorbike?” Your eyes widened.

“No,” Bucky scoffed, bursting your little bubble of hope. “Go freshen up a little and we can go get some food.”

“Is that your way of saying I look like shit?”

“You're beautiful, but you still have snot on your face, so…”

“Oh my God,” you mumbled, ducking into the bathroom feeling mortified.

Life went on regardless of your recollection of the past. Your memories persisted in eluding you. You could sense their presence but they were just out of reach.  Going to work was the familiar routine which was the only thing that was stopping you from falling apart. It was good to see May, but she seemed too wrapped up in managing her students to have time to help you out. You wondered if she was just avoiding your emotions.

At least your pupils were a constant for you, despite some new faces, they seemed to love you and were definitely trying to remind you of the deadlines you'd apparently set for their assignments. The overwhelming feeling of loss however wasn't something you could shake. All your friends from your SHIELD days had moved on with their lives, and without May, you felt like you were floundering.

Bucky was in a similar boat, having moved out of your apartment and having lost Steve's attention to Peggy, he also felt a little adrift. He was however luckier than you, having sought shelter in his niece, Kim's home. She had welcomed him with open arms, now being the matriarch of the Barnes family. She knew you would be glad that he wasn't alone and had someone to take care of him. But her support wasn't quite enough and she could see him slowly slipping back into a dark cloud of melancholy. Kim had always known you had been his guiding star, but she hadn't realized quite how much he needed you.

Both you and Bucky drifted through the next couple of weeks like lost ships floating aimlessly. Until one night Bucky received a desperate call from Steve, demanding his urgent presence at your abode. The way Bucky drove his motorcycle was definitely considered on the wrong side of the legal system. He was at your door within seconds of his arrival, finding you sobbing uncontrollably in Steve's arms. Your breaths were shallow and uneven and it looked like you were having a panic attack. Steve looked at Bucky desperately, feeling completely and utterly helpless.

Bucky leapt over the couch and enveloped you in his arms in a vice like grip. Your face was pressed almost forcefully against his chest and your body was so compressed that you couldn't even take a breath to keep crying. Bucky's heartbeat was almost hypnotizing, like a metronome you focused on the rhythm until your mind stilled. Until the blood rushing through your ears slowed and you could finally hear the words of comfort that Bucky was muttering to you. It surprised you when he softly started singing your favorite song, Yellow. This is what got you to melt into him completely, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Come on.” He led you to the bathroom, giving you a moment to splash water on your face. As you turned to grab a towel, Bucky held it out of reach before dabbing your cheeks gently for you. “Better?”

You nodded, dropping your gaze, feeling self conscious of his undivided attention. Bucky smiled, enjoying how your lashes fluttered across your face in a coquettish manner. “Thanks,” you mumbled.

You stumbled back to the couch and collapsed on it, Bucky following in suit. Both of you enjoyed the comfortable silence together. You felt exhausted but grateful for Bucky's help. His presence was soothing to your soul. You took the opportunity to steal a glance. He seemed to have changed, there were a few new lines around his eyes which betrayed his lack of sleep.

It was almost an instinct, you reached out and brushed his cheek with your fingers. “Are you sleeping?”

Bucky smiled at you sadly and shrugged. “Honestly, it's not been a great time,” he sighed before mumbling. “I miss my best friend.”

Your heart ached to hear the words. “I'm sure Steve would hang out with you more if you told him.”

“I was talking about you.” He nudged your shoulder with his, smiling at the way your lips formed an ‘o’.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me feel like I'm not losing my mind?”

“Because you're not crazy.” His words were so matter of fact. “So what happened?”

“I freaked out.”

“No kidding. Do you know why?”

“This is why.” You held up your left hand to show Bucky the engagement ring on your finger. “What kind of loser keeps wearing a ring from a guy who dumped her two years ago?”

Shit! Bucky froze, staring at the ring. Of all the lengths he had gone through to ensure he had removed all evidence of your relationship, how could he have forgotten that he had proposed to you two nights before your accident? Neither of you had shared your happy news with any of your friends, wanting to make the announcement at the right time. Now Bucky was the only one who remembered the event and he couldn't bring himself to tell anyone, even Steve. Especially not Steve, Bucky knew that if he confessed to his oldest friend, Steve wouldn't stop until he told you about it. So he kept his secret to himself.

You mistook his silence as agreement. “I never thought I would ever be this sad or pathetic.” You pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them, hoping the ground would just open up and swallow you whole. You pulled the ring off your finger and held it out to Bucky. “Will you take this back to Steve, please? It looks like an heirloom, he will probably want to give it to Peggy.”

You dropped the ring into Bucky's open palm, the metal clinking against the vibranium. He picked it up carefully between his flesh fingers and tucked it into his wallet, glad that you weren't looking at his face because he didn't think he could hide the devastation that he felt. It was his mother's wedding ring, the one his great niece, Becca had given when they had first met. “Sure,” he answered in a dismal tone before deciding to change the subject. “Ace, I've never seen you like this. I'm worried about you.”

“I don't know what it is.” You shrugged. “There’s this ache inside my chest and nothing I do makes it go away. What do I do Bucky?”

“It takes time. You taught me that. We just take each day as it comes.

“Bucky, I'm glad you're here. Thank you. I feel better with you.”

“Well if you ever need anything, you call me. Day or night. Whatever it is. I'm with you, til the end of the line. Alright?”

You nodded.

“Good. Now how about I make some popcorn and we watch a movie? I know exactly what you like.” Bucky jumped off the couch, ready to do anything to keep the smile on your face.

The next morning, you woke up with a strange feeling. Gone was the overwhelming loneliness that you'd felt yesterday after seeing Steve and Peggy having an intimate moment. It had been replaced by something else, something that you suddenly craved. Despite your exhaustion yesterday, you and Bucky had stayed up late watching your favorite movies. It was thrilling to you how he remembered the things you loved and how happy it seemed to make him watch your wonder as you experienced them again for the first time.

Things seemed brighter somehow, like you suddenly had a renewed purpose, a sense of direction. Strangely, you had no idea what that direction was, but your body seemed to know exactly what it was supposed to do. You showered and dressed, donning a floral and a light layer of makeup. You had no clue why, but you wanted to feel pretty. After admiring yourself in the mirror, you got in your car, not overthinking your actions, just letting your body do what it thought was natural. Your body worked on autopilot, weaving through the streets to an unknown destination. 

Without knowing why, you pulled up on a street beside a park. You didn’t know why you stopped there, but you knew it was the right thing to do. The place seemed familiar, but you couldn't recall ever having been there before. You pulled your cardigan closer around your torso, not sure of what to do next. Maybe a walk in the park would help clear your head a little.

“Ace?” A voice you didn't recognize called your name and you turned towards him. The sound came from an older gentleman with dark hair and bright blue eyes. “You're here!”

The stranger opened his arms to you but you stepped back, wary of his advances. “Sorry, I-”

“You don't know who I am?”

“I'm sorry.”

“That's alright. Bucky told us about what happened.”

Your eyes brightened at the mention of Bucky’s name. “You know Bucky?”

Scott chuckled. “Yeah. Has Bucky ever told you about his family?”

You shook your head.

“He had a little sister, Rebecca. I'm Scott, her son and his nephew.”

You could barely contain the smile that spread across your face. “Bucky has a family?” you whispered joyously.

It was surprising to you, but made you happy to know he wasn't alone. Happier than you'd felt about anything since the accident. In fact, thinking about Bucky in general brought a smile to your face. You felt closer to him in your last two encounters than you had with Steve in that same time.

“Yeah. We have a weekly gathering. I thought that's why you were here.”

“Bucky invites me to his family's gatherings?”

“Well you're as good as family. Come on,” he motioned for you to follow him.

While you had started rediscovering your feelings, Bucky was wallowing in his loss.

He had begrudgingly attended the regular Sunday family event but only on Kim's insistence. Bucky was residing under her roof after he had shown up after evicting himself from your apartment. Instead of letting his family console or comfort him, he had decided to remove himself from the general festivities of the day. Everyone could sense his mood and no one was brave enough to weather the storm that surrounded him. All but one. Winnie, short for Winifred, who lived up to her name, was fair of complexion and calm in composure. Bucky's great, great niece was his favorite, if one was allowed to express such preferences. She had him wrapped around her little finger and he would jump at her every demand.

Wise beyond her years, she took it upon herself to approach his rather solitary and forlorn figure. Gently she approached him, wrapping her slender arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. She nuzzled her way into his lap, her sweetness was something not even the bionic staring man could turn away.

“It's okay, Uncle Bucky,” she whispered, brushing a small tear of his cheek. She leaned in towards his ear, cupping her hand beside her face, as though someone might overhear her. “I know how to make Aunty Ace all better.”

“How?” Bucky whispered back just as conspiratorially. No matter how depressed Bucky was feeling, Winnie was the only person, aside from you, who could make him feel better.

“True Love's kiss, Uncle Bucky!” Little Winnie exclaimed, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “If you kiss her, all her memories will come back.”

Bucky smiled ruefully. “I don't think that will work, Win.”

“Why not?” she demanded with a little pout.

“Because she doesn't love me.”

Scott had ushered you over to the family where he had waved away everyone's approach, directing you over to where Bucky was sitting with Winnie. He pointed at them and gave you a gentle shove in their direction. Something new stirred inside you as you saw Bucky cradling the girl in his arms. Your memories were still hazy, but you had never been more certain of your feelings in that moment. 

“I think it would be worth a try,” you suggested.

Bucky turned his head so fast that he almost knocked poor Winnie over, his eyes widened with surprise. Thankfully, his supersoldier reflexes kicked in and she didn't end up sprawled on the floor. Winnie climbed off his lap and ran over to you, grabbing your hand, she dragged you over to him.

“Hey,” Bucky smiled shyly. Had you overheard the conversation?

“Hi,” you answered.

Both of you grinned at each other like shy teenagers unsure of how to act. You watched Bucky's eyes flick from you to Winnie, who was standing behind you urging Bucky to kiss you. He was frowning at her, shaking his head wildly. You turned your attention to her.

“It's Winnie, right?”

“Yes!” Winnie bounced up and down with excitement that you knew her name. “It's working, Uncle Bucky! The magic is working.”

“Winnie, do you mind if your Uncle Bucky and I have a moment alone please?”

“Okay!” Winnie scooted off back to the rest of the family.

You look over at Bucky, both of you grinning at each other about how adorable she was. Bucky motioned for you to sit and you do, right beside him. You are so close that Bucky's heart is pounding and he is sweating like a schoolboy who is about to kiss a girl for the first time. You're good at this! He tried to remind himself as he used his tongue to moisten his chapped lips.

“I think your niece is onto something, you know.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, a hopeful sparkle in his eye.

“Yup!” You popped the ‘p’. 

You paused, but Bucky didn't move. It was time for you to take matters into your own hands. You leaned forwards, pressing your lips firmly against him in a soft kiss. Bucky can't help himself, slipping his tongue into your open mouth. He missed how you tasted. Both of you lost in the moment, every caress reminded you of a memory of the things you and Bucky had shared. You kissed him until you thought you'd run out of the air in your lungs.

As you pulled away, Bucky held you close, finally opening his eyes to find you staring right back at him. He reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear while you stroked his cheek. He opened his mouth to ask you a question but-

“DID IT WORK?” Winnie yelled from behind a tree where she was hiding.

“It worked!” you yelled back, smiling like the Cheshire cat.

Winnie ran off whooping and cheering.

“It did?” Bucky whispered. Not quite wanting to believe. 

“I mean, not everything is clear, but I think I remember the important things.” You touched his face again, telling him that he was the most important thing in your life. “Bucky, I'm so sorry.”

“For what?”

“For leaving you alone. For making you sad. I didn't mean to leave you,” your voice quivered a little as you spoke.

“Hey, hey,” he gave you a reassuring squeeze, “you couldn't help any of that. It's definitely not your fault. If anything, I'm the one who should be apologizing.”

“Why?”

“I made you a promise to take care of you, and all I did was run away. Because I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Scared that if we had to do it all again, you might not fall in love with me a second time.”

“Bucky, I never stopped loving you. The loss I felt, it wasn't because of Steve, I mean yeah that sucked, but I felt better every time you were with me. You took care of me even though I treated you like a stranger. Especially how I freaked out over- oh my God, Bucky!” You grabbed his arm suddenly.

“What? What's wrong?”

“The ring! I didn’t mean to throw that back at you. Oh Bucky, I'm sorry.”

“You didn't know.”

“Do you think, maybe, I could… have it back?” you asked, voice filled with uncertainty and hesitation.

Bucky chuckled. “Well I hoped you would say that.”

Bucky tugged on the chain with his dog tags to reveal the ring hanging around his neck, close to his heart. He got up off the bench and got down on one knee, holding out the ring to you.

“You kept it with you,” you sighed happily.

“Of course, I don't ever want to let you go.”

You held out your hand and let him slip it back on your finger and then leaned forwards to kiss him.

“YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED?” a tiny voice shrieked from behind a bush.

“Winnie!” Bucky sighed.

“YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED!” she screamed, launching herself you and Bucky.

Bucky caught the excited little girl In his arms and she flung her arms around both of your necks.

“Can I be your bridesmaid?”

“I wouldn't have anyone else, sweetheart.”

Winnie screeched again, wiggling out of Bucky's arms to share the news with the rest of the family. Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder and holding you close. Neither of you spoke your thoughts out loud but the look Bucky gave you told he wanted the same thing as you. 

[virromanus]

20 Latin Phrases And Their Italian Equivalents Still In Use Today

Latin: "Carpe Diem" - Seize the day. Italian: "Cogli l'attimo" - Catch the moment.

Latin: "Veni, Vidi, Vici" - I came, I saw, I conquered. Italian: "Venni, Vidi, Vinsi" - I came, I saw, I won.

Latin: "In vino veritas" - In wine, there is truth. Italian: "Nel vino c'è la verità" - In wine, there is truth.

Latin: "Aqua vitae" - Water of life. Italian: "Acqua della vita" - Water of life.

Latin: "Caveat Emptor" - Let the buyer beware. Italian: "Acquirente, attento" - Buyer, be careful.

Latin: "Homo Sapiens" - Wise man. Italian: "Uomo sapiente" - Wise man.

Latin: "Ad Astra" - To the stars. Italian: "Verso le stelle" - Towards the stars.

Latin: "Ars longa, vita brevis" - Art is long, life is short. Italian: "L'arte è lunga, la vita è breve" - Art is long, life is short.

Latin: "Tempus fugit" - Time flies. Italian: "Il tempo vola" - Time flies.

Latin: "Amor Vincit Omnia" - Love conquers all. Italian: "L'amore vince tutto" - Love wins everything.

Latin: "Memento Mori" - Remember that you must die. Italian: "Ricorda che devi morire" - Remember that you have to die.

Latin: "Alea iacta est" - The die is cast. Italian: "Il dado è tratto" - The die is cast.

Latin: "Verbatim" - Word for word. Italian: "Parola per parola" - Word for word.

Latin: "Vox Populi" - Voice of the people. Italian: "Voce del popolo" - Voice of the people.

Latin: "Mea Culpa" - My fault. Italian: "Colpa mia" - My fault.

Latin: "Tabula Rasa" - Clean slate. Italian: "Tavola rasata" - Clean slate.

Latin: "Non sequitur" - It does not follow. Italian: "Non segue" - It doesn't follow.

Latin: "Per se" - By itself. Italian: "Di per sé" - By itself.

Latin: "Status Quo" - The existing state. Italian: "Stato Quo" - The existing state.

Latin: "De facto" - In fact, in reality. Italian: "Di fatto" - In fact.

[bulkyphrase]

Cap-IM Rec Week - Cap-IM Sunday

It's day 7 (the final day) of @cap-ironman's rec week event! Today's recommendations feature stories created for previous Cap-Iron Man events. Thanks so much to them for organizing this event, and all the other events that inspired the following fics!

I Look and in the Mirror the World Shatters by @navaan, art by Caz and KakushiMiko (616, Mature, 25,807 words)

Created for: 2022 Captain America/Iron Man Big Bang

Summary: After Pleasant Hill, Civil War II and right in the middle of Secret Empire, Steve Rogers (the real one) comes back and realizes a copy of himself is now leading HYDRA and has taken over the world. With Tony dead and only an AI copy of him existing and nobody trusting the face of Steve Rogers, he decides to make things right and help the heroes trapped inside and outside the planetary field. One way to do it: Infiltrating HYDRA by playing the role of the other him. What he finds is more than he bargained for.

Tabula Rasa by @sineala, art by @veryvincible (Captain America Corps, Explicit, 37,819 words)

Created for: Captain America/Iron Man Reverse Bang 2022

Summary: Sometimes superheroes save the world. And sometimes they're too late. Captain America's longtime villain Superia had a plan for revenge. She stopped the Avengers from ever finding Steve in the ice, tore the Avengers apart, and turned the world into her own personal authoritarian dystopia. A team made up of Captains America from across the multiverse came to set things right: they united all the remaining superheroes, took down Superia, and made sure the world would find Steve again. Tony spent Superia's hellish reign as her prisoner, a suicidally-depressed disembodied brain trapped in a jar for years on end, begging the Avengers to kill him and put him out of his misery. The Captain America Corps instead gives him his freedom, a brand-new body, and even the Avengers -- including his very own Captain America. But Tony's not entirely sure he wants to be here. He's walking wounded, and he thinks some wounds are too deep to heal. He thinks there's no chance the Avengers will ever be what they could have been. He thinks there's no way Steve will ever be the friend and partner he could have been on so many other worlds. Luckily for Tony, Steve happens to disagree with that.

More below the cut!

A Little Confused But He Got the Spirit by jellybeanforest (@jellybeanforest-a-go-go) (MCU, Mature, 3,298 words)

Created for: 2021 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange

Summary: On their third date, Steve decides to come clean about his lycanthropy. Tony is surprisingly understanding, almost too much so. Based on a prompt by DepressingGreenie.

on the inherent homoeroticism of cake decoration by Welcoming_Disaster (@welcomingdisaster) (616, General Audiences, 8,191 words)

Created for: 2020 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange

Summary: “She’s matchmaking, Barton,” Carol sighed. “We,” Thor corrected, thumping himself hard in the chest, “art matchmaking.” “Who, Cap n’ Tony?” Clint asked, his mouth full. “Cap and Tony,” Janet confirmed, cutting herself a thin slice of egg and gently depositing it on her whole grain avocado toast, “it’s getting ridiculous.” “Wait, I thought they were—“ Clint frowned, glancing around the room as though to confirm. Nothing but confused faces met his questioning gaze. “Huh. I really thought they were fucking.” “And there is the crux of the issue,” Jess licked a bit of spaghetti sauce off her lip. “Aye,” agreed Thor, “there’s rub.” ----------- The team tries to set up Steve and Tony. Things don't go as planned.

An Error in the System by orphan_account, art by Jellybeanforest (@jellybeanforest-a-go-go) (MCU, Mature, 45,224 words)

Created for: 2020 Captain America/Iron Man Big Bang

Summary: When the Avengers faced Ultron, they believed that Vision completed his task to lock Ultron out of the internet. After Sokovia, no one thinks that Ultron survived. Everyone is wrong. Ultron’s code persists, hidden in the deepest trenches of the internet. Soon, it rises to cause chaos around the world and the only way to stop a catastrophe is to meet Ultron face to face. But Ultron is computer code – elusive, persistent, and viral. The only way to confront him is to meet the AI on equal footing within the bowels of the internet itself. Steve and Tony enter the virtual world of Ultron’s mind, passing through the rims to get to the center Hub of the AI’s existence. Along the way they face challenges and nightmares, hardships and truths. Truths that hurt and haunt them. Now they have to deal with a genocidal killer AI, and a truth that could destroy them. Steve blames himself for everything that went wrong with his relationship with Tony, but that doesn't mean he isn't still hoping and pining for someone who will never love him in return.

The Fabric of Reality by Neverever (@captainneverever), art by Jayjayverse (616, Mature, 26,210 words)

Created for: 2019 Captain America/Iron Man Big Bang

Summary: Tony loves being Iron Man and the Avengers. But anyone can see that the Avengers are struggling as a team. While he helps Jan solve their problems, Tony meets freelance Artist Steve Rogers. Tony believes that everything is going to turn out great -- the Avengers will pull together, Tony has a gorgeous boyfriend, and the supervillains will be defeated. What more could the modern superhero and CEO want out of life? Except that Tony has a few secrets that threaten to undermine his happiness. For one thing, Tony remembers that Captain America was an Avenger when everyone else thinks he died at the end of World War II. And that's just the tip of the iceberg.

The Don'ts Of Dating (And How They Can Win You A Man) by Mozzarella (@muchymozzarella), art by @acachette (Marvel, General Audiences, 5,162 words)

Created for: 2019 Cap-IM Reverse Bang

Summary: In which Steve Rogers fills in the Don't column of "Cosmo's Dos and Dont's of Dating" and somehow makes it work, while Tony Stark marvels at the fact that he's picking this weird (yet unbearably sweet) artist from Brooklyn over Captain Goddamn America. AU where Tony is known as Iron Man but Cap's identity is secret even to the other Avengers.

The Moon and the Sea by @dirigibleplumbing, art by Bella (MCU, Explicit, 81,058 words)

Created for: 2018 Captain America/Iron Man Big Bang

Summary: Steve has lived his whole life in the coastal California town of Nublado. He’s spent the last few years trying to move on from a traumatic event in his past, and he finds new joy when he befriends—and quickly falls for—reclusive local billionaire Tony Stark. Then Tony abruptly breaks things off and won’t reply when Steve reaches out. Steve’s friends Clint and Nat have his back, at least. But… is someone following him everywhere? What’s with the human teeth Steve and his friends found while they were out fishing? How did the Scarlet Witch know so much about him? And why are there so many crows around?

Tony Stark and the Subterranean Escapade by @veldeia (Iron Man Noir, Teen And Up Audiences, 20,279 words)

Created for: Captain America/Iron Man Bingo 2016

Summary: Soon after the end of the War, a French cave explorer contacts Tony for help concerning a mysterious artifact found deep underground. It's time for a new era of adventures for the hero of Marvels, together with his friends, including a certain war-time acquaintance named Steve Rogers, with whom he has grown quite close. Bingo fill for the prompt "Infinity Gems (Make Life Difficult)”

Dreams of War, Dreams of Liars by @teaberryblue (MCU, Teen And Up Audiences, 34,438 words)

Created for: 2014 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange

Summary: When Steve succumbs to a malevolent attack that puts him permanently to sleep, the only way to wake him up is to unearth a technology that hasn't been used in twenty years. Welcome back to Dreamvision, Tony Stark. This is an MCU canon-compliant story that incorporates the science of Inception, rather than a straight-up AU or crossover.

Phantom by Del_Rion, art by Gabbi (MCU, Mature, 28,426 words)

Created for: Cap/Iron Man Reverse Bang 2013

Summary: After Steve gets mysteriously possessed by dark magic, the Avengers must contain the situation and save their leader without losing their own lives in the process. Steve keeps escaping, however – and unerringly migrates towards Tony every time. Written for: Cap/Iron Man Reverse Bang 2013. Story based on & inspired by the beautiful art by the talented Gabbi!

If Through a Door by jibrailis, art by tripperfunster (MCU, Explicit, 44,036 words)

Created for: Cap/Iron Man Big Bang 2012

Summary: Tony is accused of murder on an alien planet; Steve marries him to bring him home.

[bestworstcase]

What do you think happens to the souls of Ozma's hosts? Like it it gone gone forever, or is Light Bro just keeping them on ice in his afterlife?

my pet theory

on the grounds that ozma always has someone else in his head and that person is always the host, or a facsimile of the host who is also a facsimile of himself because the curse blends them into one, and there has not been a single hint or implication that there is ever anyone else but two—meaning that he isn’t an amalgam, he’s one person who doesn’t feel like a person because he’s been forced into this parasitic existence and has no sense of self anymore—

is that ozma’s soul got split into two when the brothers were playing tug of war with his soul, and one half reincarnates tabula rasa and the other half remembers, and the god of light intervened to take advantage of/“fix” this situation by forcing them to recombine into one. but the problem is,

as penny demonstrates,

if you break someone’s soul into pieces you don’t end up with two defective half-people. you end up with two people. it doesn’t matter that penny’s soul used to be part of pietro’s soul, smashing them back together to erase her and make him ‘whole’ would be horrifying and painful for both of them. because they’re separate people now, existing independent of each other.

and if this is indeed what’s going on with ozma, then his experience suggests that merging penny and pietro back into one person by recombining their souls wouldn’t even be possible—they might become indistinguishable from each other, but there would still be two people in there.

and then the two halves separate again at the moment of death and are put back together.

NOW! you may be thinking that oscar being fourteen when ozpin died and ozpin reincarnating into him within a few months contradicts this theory. which yes it does. but i have a theory about THAT also

because

ozpin doesn’t seem to have anyone in his head (which might simply be for the sake of not tipping the hand, but there aren’t any moments that feel like switching or “ohhh, he’s conferring with his host” either),

there is a heavy implication that ozpin thinks the aura transfer machines will essentially inflict his curse on pyrrha and amber, thus implicitly associating the ATMs with the merge, and

reason dictates that the ATMs had to have been tested, and we know that they were more or less developed under ozpin’s auspices, despite his misgivings. the only ethical way to test these machines is on a willing volunteer.

willing volunteers like pietro. and also, i propose, like ozpin.

”you will never be alone.” this is a curse. he has not been alone even in his thoughts for thousands of years. ironwood broached the subject of a machine that can separate aura—separate the soul—from the body. ozpin has two souls fused into one. partial transfers are possible. how long were those machines in development? pietro looks quite a bit younger in the photograph. might it perhaps, possibly, have been fourteen or fifteen years ago when the first prototype was tested?

and well. ozma’s soul and the reincarnating soul know how to split apart. they do it all the time! they’re old hat at this! (pattern theory.) so it’s very easy and it’s a nice clean split and the reincarnating soul flies away to reincarnate like it always does, and oz gets about fourteen years of quiet for the first time in millennia. which he mostly uses to dissociate in peace.

[ego-meliorem-esse]

I feel like Francis and Arthur would do that thing with baby Matthew that people do where they put the dog in the middle and both call for it to see who it loves more haha. Except neither of them really care who Matthew loves, they just want to spite the other. Arthur wants to show off Matthews obedience to him and Francis wants to very smugly undermine that. Matthew gets a brief moment of thinking they both desperately want him. The illusion shatters very quickly.

wow mate you're almost more brutal in your interpretation of their relationship than me. Don't get me wrong, what I'm trying to interpret here is that as Matt for all intents and purposes was lonely and frankly miserable with his bio father, the frog. However I do not think François outright didn't care or love Matt. He, did but in his own distant and Empire-y way. What 'm trying to portray is that Matt didn't get love. He didn't feel it. He felt nothing coming from his papa. Whether or not François felt love for his firstborn and only son is irrelevant when it comes to Matt and his experiences. His experience is that where love should be, has always been a tabula rasa. I am a bit of a softie (unimaginable lol) and I am keen on making François feel love in a sense of "Yeah you're my son. I love you but you are a bit boring, and I have court stuff to do". And what I've mentioned is a few asks is that François is only realising his assholery when it's too late, and the boy has found a father to replace his biological one. In the modern era they may even reconnect slightly, they may even meet to get coffee, during a meeting break they might smoke outside the building together in silence, Matt even might stay over at his pops place during a summit week in Paris.

the ignition of remorse may even begin in the vast and smooth void of François' mind.

As for Arthur, he expects the boy to be useful. In 1763 and maybe a few years after that, he feels as if he has a mini François in the house. Until ofcourse he realises that he is angry at this boy sitting opposite of him despite the child having never even uttered a single word, not even made a disagreeable face at that. He softenes up to the boy eventualy. A decade later he starts to not see his enemys face every time he looks at this scared child. Canada indeed is expensive, and England is an Empire. Therefore, the colony WILL be useful. Has to be. Otherwise. That's his mindset, at least for a while. Granted that while lasts a long time but by the modern era Matt his his closest confidante, a friend, and a son. And by god, blood, sweat and tears have been shed for those titles by Matthew. He was needed when he entered those trenches clean, shaved and anxious, he was loved when he left the trenches covered in blood, a broken spirit, with half of his previous eyesight intact.

Not because he risked everything, but because he was willing to.

[alexsiple]

do you have any lawlight fics recommendations?

lol do i ever. here are my favorites

remember to read the tags and such for these before reading. i'm a freak and that may not be the same for u

shame is pride's cloak by youremyqueen / (explicit) / 4k words / short and encompasses what i enjoy about lawlight. this is one of my favorite fic authors ever. i love when lawlight is psychosexual but also fated, romantic. perfect. (this author's fic "tabula rasa" is also around the same length and very good you should read that too)

nights by youremyqueen / (explicit) / 381k words / fandom classic so a lot of people know this one but it's so fucking good. if you're willing to go on a deranged, beautiful journey with this author it's worth the length, truly. they also wrote some spinoffs of this (the one called All Saints is like? my favorite fic ever?) that are also soooo worth it. haunts my day to day no lie

Those Who Stand For Nothing Fall For Anything by halfpromise / (explicit) / 97k words but there's more / another fandom classic... not for everyone but i think it's so great. so insane. an au where light is trying to become prime minister and it's written like american psycho and L is a lawyer snaking his way around the political ranks. among other things. the other day i got really sick and reread through all of this and it made me worse probably

like like by ruruka / (explicit) / 5k words / i like this one. L crossdresses and goes to a party with light to """infiltrate""". very cute very fun.

the bruise of being by lupinely / (mature) / 5k words / L watches light post-death as a ghost. haven't read it in a while. i remember enjoying it

twenty-three by haydonjames17 / (explicit) / 4.7k words / more L is a ghost stuff but light goes to a strip club and L is like a voyeur. hallucination? real? we don't know but it’s intriguing to Me

Clean by FayJay / (explicit) / 4k words / prose is cute. i enjoy this L a lot

tell me yes by crimesofhallowed / (explicit) / 4k words / I Enjoyed It

white chocolate roses by ruruka / (teen) / 45k words / felt bad that everything here is mature and up because maybe you didn't want that. here's this one i remember feeling crazy about. i usually don't read things like "light is a cardiologist and L is his terminally ill patient" but for some reason this one gripped me and i cried at the end. ok. great.

a non-exhaustive list but the tag is full of good shit if you dig through it. best of luck fellow enjoyer

[contentloadingandstuff]

An Important Notice About Asks

Hello, everybody!

The asks on contentloadingandstuff are somewhat renowned for being many. Very many. How many exactly? Take a look.

Now, when I opened my asks back in summer of last year, a kind soul asked me if I was alright after getting a hundred asks, because if they were in my place, they would be freaking out about how to get them all done. I told them that I was alright. After almost a whole year I can definetely say that I am, in fact, not alright.

Recently, as you might have picked up on in my non-fic posts, I have been suffering the worst case of writer's block yet, coupled with a hissy and agressive impostor syndrome.

Why am I writing this when I should be doing asks? Look at this, you're making OC content while two hundred people are waiting for their fics to be done. These kinds of statements rummage around in my mind on a daily basis, wearing me out and making me stress about something that, in theory, should be fun.

So I decided to start anew. To refresh my thoughts, stop dwelling on the same ideas for months on end, and primarily - stop stressing about getting things written. To give the kind of attention I provide for each fic for every one of the 221 ideas, I would have to be here for ages to come. I would have to make content, not write.

And so, I will give myself a Tabula Rasa - a clean slate. As axious as it will leave me, I will need to drop the backlog of asks to catch my breath and hopefully climb out of my writing depression.

I don't want any of you wonderful people taking this to heart, alright? Your ideas are good, they are perfectly valid, but looking at the same selection of WIPs and stressing about getting them done is draining for me.

Hopefully, this will help lift off the pressure and expectations I have imposed upon myself and help me find more motivation to write, as the content loop I have created for myself has more than exhausted me.

And so, a new season of asks is now open. Ask for anything, everything, or nothing - whichever you prefer, dear reader. If you want to be as precise as possible, you can include the format you think would be best for your idea (refer to this poll for the format types). Here are the rules too, so you don't have to make a thorough investigation of the blog to find them.

As usual, thank you for putting up with me! You're wonderful!

[burningdarkfire]

[tabula rasa]

It was the kind of thing that could only work in the first few weeks of school, when everyone was still wide-eyed and eager and breathing potential.

I've been turning over ideas for years on a proper M9 modern AU, and this was one of my earliest iterations that I still keep fondly in my heart. I've since reworked a lot of the ideas in here into other WIPs, but I liked this enough to clean it up and share and perhaps finally let this go. Enjoy!

Rating: G Relationships: Caleb Widogast & The Mighty Nein Characters: Caleb Widogast, Nott the Brave, misc. mighty nein Words: 767 Posted: 26 Jan 2025

[chrisadew]

chrisadew’s astrology thoughts & observations pt. 3

🧡 The ruler of the 2H can also show where things come naturally to you and how. If the 2H ruler is in the 10H, then it can take time for that particular thing/skill (associated with the energy of the planet) to become second nature. If the 2H ruler is Mars or in the 1H, then the process can be quicker than average. If the 2H ruler is in Pisces or the 12H, you might not even realise it’s become second nature until you have to use the skill. Real “how did I even know how to do that?” energy.

🧡 Lois Rodden said “6H planets gain more credit with use”, and yessssss 🤌🏾 the planets in that house are supposed to be used regularly to be strong. I would extend that to the ruler of the 6H too. Virgo placements know that processes are in place because they want to use them well and become more efficient.

🧡 Success is the attainment of a goal through clear and decisive steps, using whatever you have to hand. That’s why the 10H/MC is Saturns domain. “I want to learn to play an instrument” is a goal. “I want to learn to play the guitar” is definitive. “I’m going to practice chords on my ukulele for 30 minutes a day” is Saturn.

🧡 The 11H is the house of networking from a professional POV, but Venus in the 10H/Venus-MC can also speak to getting ahead with the help of powerful (personal) alliances.

🧡 The 9H as the 12th of the 10H - the bigger you get, the harder the fall - and it doesn’t take much at all. Because once virality/popularity or celebrity is reached, a collective “ideal” is impossible for any individual to maintain on a regular basis (square 6H), plus its generally stressful.

🧡 When a New Moon conjuncts the North Node in your natal chart it can feel like you’ve got a whole new clean slate (Tabula Rasa) and a chance to start afresh. Whatever you choose to do during this time can feel a bit nerve wracking (the North Node = things unfamiliar and uncomfortable to us), but it could also mark a significant transition in moving away from the more negative traits of your South Node, like finally waking up to your own bullshit 😆

🧡 Klarna and all other credit or “buy now pay later” schemes belong to the 8H. When you purchase anything on credit, you accrue interest which must be paid off and so becomes a debt until paid in full. The 8H also shows how much of an attractive investment you are to potential lenders, based on your perceived “net worth” (aka credit scores, earnings (2H) and such).

🧡 People who exhibit high earning potential can typically have a heavy 2H or strong aspects to the 2H ruler.

🧡 Oppositions to your MC ruler can show a tug of war between what you want to do, and what you feel you have to do…maybe out of a sense of obligation/devotion (Neptune, Venus or Jupiter), or responsibility (Sun, Mars, Moon or Saturn). Mercury and Uranus opposite the MC and you may feel the need to diversify your goals, not necessarily sticking to a particular career or interest, or you fall into things at random.

© 2023 chrisadew. All rights reserved.

[sophiemariepl]

Am I the only one who does not really get all those takes which read young Coriolanus Snow as an epitome of toxic masculinity and keep saying “OMFG, Lucy Gray, yes, girl, run away from him!1!!1”?

Like, I don’t mean that Coryo is not toxic. He, very obviously, is. That’s how he is meant to be.

But it seems to me that many people don’t get that the whole point of “The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes” is to show how did it come to this, how Coryo became the way he is. Suzanne Collins literally makes a reference to tabula rasa - a concept in the Western Enlightenment philosophy, which, to quote the Free Dictionary, is:

This is the first. The point is to ask the reader: how much of a “clean slate” Coryo is as a person? How much does his experience and background shape him? How “free” is his will when he is continuously being shaped by everything around him?

Secondly, idk, did people realize that the characters of Coryo and Lucy Gray are constructed as personifications of the “civilization vs nature” conflict? A conflict which is, nomen omen, also common in Western philosophy in the Enlightenment era?

In short, Coryo is the personification of civilization - order, science, lack of spontaneity, etc. Meanwhile, Lucy Gray personifies nature - she is spontaneous, artistic, sensitive and trusting (even despite the fact that before being with Coryo she was in a toxic relationship). She believes in the inherent goodness in people, while Coryo clearly does not. And both of these two stances also derive from their upbringing.

Like, coming back to their background.

Lucy Gray, despite coming from an extremely underprivileged background and being in a toxic relationship prior to the plot of the book, seems to have had loving and trusting people around her. Most of the time, her background reinforced the story “you are good, worthy, and loved”. And this way she grew this attitude in her mind. She had developed a sense of self-worth, her own standing, her own “stone”, which saved her even when the odds were not on her side.

Meanwhile, Coryo came from a fallen high-class family embedded in Capitol’s politics - which in itself is not a good place for proper emotional development. In such an environment, you constantly have to prove your worth. You don’t matter on your own. If you don’t keep fighting, you are worthless. In a sense, you are what you do. And, to add fuel to the fire, Coryo had to hide the true economic standing of his family and almost constantly be on alert, because, in reality, everyone around him was a back-stabbing b*tch ready to hurt him. Wouldn’t you develop trust issues in this situation?

And yes, I know that many people here will mention Tigris, I know. But how much time does Coryo really spend with his cousin? How much time, ability, and opportunity does Tigris have on reversing the poison that is poured into her cousin’s head when he is outside of home, e.g. at school?

Idk, maybe it is just my experience (this is going to get private now lol), but when I read about Coryo, I found his person cruel, but weirdly relatable.

That mostly stems from the fact that I too have an experience of growing up in a very toxic environment that gave me trust issues. And it is not that I did not have a person like Tigris around me. I did, when I saw them for maximum 1-1.5 hour per day, because we both were overwhelmed with work and did not have time to talk and bond together and undo the toxicity that was constantly reinforced in my head when I had other stuff to do. Similarly to Coryo, I too had to stay in a constantly back-stabbing, non-empathetic environment, which constantly reinforced the fact that apart from very few people, I could not trust anybody. Because if I do - they will use that to hurt me in the end. So, I thought to myself that I have to be constantly on guard. When entering any friendships, a coping mechanism for me was to think of these people in the categories “what they can offer/do for me” instead of “who is this person for me as a person”. Because, you know, in case they stab me in the back, I still get something out of it.

This led to the fact that even when I supposedly could let my guard down - that is, I entered my first romantic relationship - letting this guard down felt unnatural, wrong. And it led to - tada! - wanting to possess the one I loved. Because no, I could not trust the fact them, that was not enough. I did not trust them enough to believe that they wanted to stay with me because they wanted to.

And damn, seeing that Coryo had similar issues was so… therapeutic. He just could not let go, give space and trust the woman of his life. And paradoxically, this is what largely contributes to her ultimately leaving him without a word.

The fact that Suzanne Collins understands this pattern (and most likely heavily researched it) makes me respect her so much more.

(Of course, I am in therapy. I don’t plan to repeat these behaviours anymore, I don’t want to end up like Coryo 😅 But I’m just saying that it’s still hard to unlearn these patterns years after leaving the original toxic environment because my brain got wired at some point to reinforce this “You should trust no one” story 24/7.)

And no, before you accuse me of “defending” Snow’s actions, I stop you here. I completely, fully acknowledge the fact that Coriolanus Snow, in the end, does evil things and is a truly evil person.

But what I am against is reading TBoSaS as just a story of a toxic romance between a guy embedded in toxic masculinity and a sensitive girl that he just wants to possess BeCAuSe hE Is ToXIc. This is just extremely shallow, and completely contradicts the point that, I believe, Suzanne Collins is trying to make here. And her point is still scary, if not more than just labelling Coryo as masculine in a toxic way.

The society also largely contributes to creating monsters. We create these monsters.

[danielmolloystits]

redux. (armand/daniel 1/?)

Summary:

Armand feeds him from the wrist and Daniel is unmade, pulled like the end of a slipknot until he once more is a thing unformed. A blank slate, tabula rasa, wiped clean. A sand castle at high tide. A snake eating its own tail. Everything eats itself in the end, comes back to where it started, and Daniel is no different. His blood is Armand’s blood is his blood, and when he gulps down mouthful after mouthful, Armand’s hand feverishly massaging his throat to aid the weak, dying muscles in forcing it down, it is himself he is drinking from. He is at the bottom of it all. He is at the place from before the bottom even existed, the place that always was. He is woven into nothing and back again. He is woven into nothing and it is woven into him. He is woven, and unwoven, and hungry, and woven, and starving, and woven. Starving, starving, starving. Like the ringing of an alarm clock. Eat, you stupid motherfucker. Feed. He thought he knew before, when he was just a dumb addict. What it means to be hungry. He had no fucking idea. — Armand, Daniel, and a lesson in taking the long way home.

Pairing: Armand/Daniel (Devil's Minion) Rating: M (for now) WC: ~1200 a sequel fic to reprise. A good high makes you forget the things that hurt, softens the mouth of the world where it swallows you. Turns the body from a thing that suffers to a thing that feels.

A great high drops you to the bottom of it all, where there’s nothing left of you and there’s nothing left of pain and there’s nothing left of joy, either, just the pieces of them scattered in piles around you. Just your own two hands and the understanding of how to build them both, build either of them, build whichever one you think you deserve.

Daniel’s had good highs and he’s had great highs, too. Getting his memories back is a good high, lets him ignore everything wrong with what Armand did to him and focus on the way love and lust and affection and need all overwhelm his body like a flooding ditch.

The sensation of an ancient vampire’s blood filling his veins, however—transforming him, becoming his blood and Armand’s blood and their blood, together, well.

That’s a great high, better than any Daniel’s ever had. That’s oblivion, distilled and pure and sparkling. The prelude to eternity. A void in the shape of a lover, in the shape of a monster, in the shape of the only God Daniel has ever thought was worth believing in.

Armand kisses him like he’s putting out a fire and he rides him like he’s starting one. Armand feeds him from the wrist and Daniel is unmade, pulled like the end of a slipknot until he once more is a thing unformed. A blank slate, tabula rasa, wiped clean. A sand castle at high tide. A snake eating its own tail.

Everything eats itself in the end, comes back to where it started, and Daniel is no different. His blood is Armand’s blood is his blood, and when he gulps down mouthful after mouthful, Armand’s hand feverishly massaging his throat to aid the weak, dying muscles in forcing it down, it is himself he is drinking from.

He is at the bottom of it all. He is at the place from before the bottom even existed, the place that always was. He is woven into nothing and back again. He is woven into nothing and it is woven into him. He is woven, and unwoven, and hungry, and woven, and starving, and woven.

Starving, starving, starving. Like the ringing of an alarm clock. Eat, you stupid motherfucker. Feed.

He thought he knew before, when he was just a dumb addict. What it means to be hungry.

He had no fucking idea.

***

Daniel doesn’t remember much of the first twenty-four hours. Little more than the press of Armand’s blood-warm hand guiding his mouth to the neck of someone (a housekeeper? An arms dealer? He doesn’t know and probably doesn’t want to), little more than the whispered encouragements, sweet like honey dripping down the exposed nerves of his spine.

He can feel his Maker’s pulse beneath his sternum, his own its fluttering echo, like maybe Armand’s heart belongs to him more than even his own does, now. He can feel the panic, too, that rises like a seawall in the other vampire’s chest. It makes him whine and try to cling, a compulsive urge to holdprotectsoothe, but Armand doesn’t let him. Keeps him at arm’s length, doesn’t allow the lines of his body to slot against Daniel’s even though the air between them feels magnet-fuzzy and alive. Even though his every atom sings for a touch that doesn’t come.

His body aches with the hangover of death, but his joints feel slick and lax in ways they haven’t since he was too young to appreciate them. His stomach, too, is full of blood and he is sated, but the hunger still gnaws at him—looms like a storm creeping at the horizon, ever-present and urgent. He’s exhausted from the ordeal of it all, spent and limp and sore; when Armand tells him to Rest, he does so willingly, for long enough that he suspects the time should be measured by a calendar and not a watch.

But he wakes up eventually, in a coffin in a dark apartment that is also a graveyard. Everything precisely as it was before, except he can tell he is alone. At least, in the only way that matters—he can’t feel Armand anymore, the tether between them slackened and whittled down to a single, thin thread.

Maybe he ought to have expected that, but it doesn’t make it sting less. The pieces of pain and the pieces of joy that surround him are hard to tell apart, at this point, and he doesn’t quite manage to build either of them. Instead, he builds a contradiction. He builds a mess.

When he investigates the penthouse, he finds that his things, including a brand-new laptop, are already packed for him. There are overnight plane tickets on the counter in his name.

There’s a note, too:

Daniel,

I am sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me. The flight leaves three days from now; please take the time until then to feed and recover.

I’m thinking of you, as I always am.

-A

Daniel isn’t sure whether it makes the abandonment better or worse, though he’s leaning towards the latter. Like a text from your dad that he’s just out getting cigarettes, such a stupid fucking cliché that it’s long since grown tired. A stupid fucking cliché that even Daniel has used on his own kids before, fuck.

He supposes he doesn’t have the right to be mad, and he barely even has the energy to be disappointed. He’s just heartbroken, he thinks, even though he feels silly even thinking it in his own head. He doesn’t know why he should’ve expected anything different.

As the help filters by at the edges of his perception, apparently steering clear of the fledgling as a matter of course, he notices that he keeps catching snippets of their thoughts. Little confessions of fear, vague sensations of ill-ease. Evidently, he’s inherited the thing he hates most about Armand, because that’s always how it works, isn’t it?

It means, though, that after two days of practicing the Gift he can reach out to Louis: You’ll never fucking guess what happened.

Silence, for a long minute.

Then, I’ll kill him.

Daniel wants to beg him not to, but he still has some small sliver of pride in his seventy-year-old bones. So he just says Good luck with that and closes the line. The next night, he boards a plane with a first-class ticket and a persistent thirst clawing at the back of his throat. He returns to NYC ten million dollars richer and a hell of a lot deader than he left it. He’s utterly loss, adrift, uncertain of what he ought to do with himself now that he's gotten everything he ever wanted and managed to lose the thing he didn’t know he needed.

So he does what he always does when he finds himself in a hole of his own creation: he tries to write his way out of it.