#I can at least answer old things and keep saving them in my drafts from when I DO come back

[your-local-grinning-cat]

The Ultimate Compilation Callout Part 3.5

(Because this woman doesn’t know when to quit, how to achieve any sort of personal growth, or what therapy is!)

I’m putting it under a cut to not clutter up the feed like usual, but please look because we mods believe she has added a new blog to her roster that needs to be added to your block list!

Ya’ll know the drill.

NO HARASSING. JUST BLOCK AND GO.

So, it seems our lovely mod is back and has realized… uh oh. They’re not hiding anything. I can’t hold anything over their head or against them because they didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t have a leg to stand on here.

Blaming everything on Leona’s mod didn’t work! They didn’t believe my obvious lies…

Time to try some different tactics!

So, first of all, let’s make another new blog. But this time I’m not going to announce it’s mine! That’s how they found me last time! I’ll be so sneaky! They’ll never suspect and I’ll reintegrate myself into the twst rp community and everything will go right back to the way things were before.

Except… remember that whole thing about how she roleplays all of her characters exactly the same way?

Yeah. That.

Now, to be clear, we mods do not know this for certain. And I’m sure if you ask the blog’s mod will deny it either way.

But she has a history of denying she’s the mod of a blog she has been confirmed to own and admin… and also has a history of giving out pictures of “herself” and claiming they are her when they are not. So be on the lookout for that kind of “proof” as well if you do feel brave enough to approach and ask.

See this would be the kinda fun stuff you would have seen in a Part 4… Did you think I was joking when I said I had other things that hadn’t been seen yet?

Anyway, here is the blog we are THINKING is her new way of trying to sneak her way back into the twst rp community. While still acting the exact same way as she always has - incredibly rude, agressive, confrontational, disrespectful, and mean.

To be fair to her, she did pick a good character to try to come back in as. Because you can absolutely argue General Lilia are those character traits.

But isn’t it fairly telling that she has confirmed blogs for Malleus, Meleanor, Baul, and Sebek’s mother? What’s one more Diasomnia blog - specifically a past Diasomnia fae… who can get away with acting like an ass.

Which she specializes in.

Now, this isn't much, I didn't take many screenshots because I was not going to spend a whole bunch of time on this, but also because the blog is very, very new. So there aren't a lot of posts up anyway. How interesting, right? But already you can see that this very new General Lilia seems to act and write an awfullllllll lot like a certain mod we all know…

And, of course, even if she didn’t announce it was her blog (IF it is), in the short amount of time it has been active she still couldn’t resist interacting and roleplaying with herself.

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again - if she wants to control the roleplay narrative so badly, she should just write fanfiction.

So, while we mods are not 100% positive…

We are pretty sure this new General Lilia blog is the Malleus mod’s newest rp side blog.

So get out that block button once again and block:

General Lilia Vanrouge @/general-lilia-vanrouge

~~~

Now, I did say she was trying different tactics. Plural.

That was the first. Here is the second.

Awwww… it seems she is finally trying to do some damage control. :)

Aaaand yet she still did not apologize for falsely accusing Leona’s mod, lying about different things for months, being a terrible person for months… the list goes on.

Also... as a note... saying you apologize for "everything" is a cop-out. It's a catch-all phrase where you try to get your forgiveness but you don't actually have to acknowledge what it is you're apologizing for. If you even know... or if you even agree that that is what your apology is for. So your "everything" could not include what we want you to apologize for, because you may not agree that you need to apologize for it.

This is why the best apologies are specific and far more personal than this short little "Hey please forgive me for everything and being mean and things (I'm still not saying anything about changing though lol that would require actual regret on my part)... I totally understand if you don't want to accept my apology though... but I'm being sincere and authentic though, so it would be really rude not to."

IN COMES CASTAWAY WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!

@/castaway-achlys DIDN’T LET US DOWN DURING THE BIG DRAMATM AND THEY DON’T LET US DOWN NOW! Castaway is fr the real MVP of this entire thing, guys. They have been in the DM trenches with this lady since before it all went down, going toe to toe with the lying beast.

They really be slaying the dragon here! No need to wait for someday - our prince/knight in shining armor is here today!!! /hj

OKAY!

FORGET KNIGHT OR PRINCE!!

CASTAWAY OUR KING OVER HERE!!! 🙌

Can we tell that I'm so sick of having to add shit to her pile of sins? The more things add up the more I'm willing to add comic relief. Grow the fuck up lady... and this is coming from someone that just used a minion gif

Y'all keep acting like I'm the one who started this.

Nah, guys, that's Castaway.

I'm just the compiler with sassy commentary. I called her out on Discord and I've put all of this in one place but Castaway has been the one holding the sword. Go give him some love. They say they don't need it but they deserve it. If we're out here doing this for Leona's mod then let me do this for him. He's had to deal with the mod far more than I have.

Anyway, now that I have gifted you all with your daily dose of "my friends Leona mod and Castor mod are awesome please love them like I do," just know Malleus mod responded to Castaway saying something that basically boiled down to:

"I'm not a liar but whatever. If you're going to be rude I'll just block you and everyone again. The apology wasn't for you, I was just trying to get to Leona's mod."*

Alright, so no apologies for the rest of us (sorry @/elysia-nsimp you're still SOL 😔) for her numerous lies and her attitude, but hey! If Leona's mod wants to get stressed out again they can unblock Malleus's mod and chat. :)

Needless to say, Leona's mod will not be doing that, though Malleus mod's apology did "get to her" lmao what a way to word that too - I remember it specifically because of how shifty it sounded.

*I'm going to be honest... I legitimately just did not care enough to go and get the actual screenshot of her comment. I had already taken screenshots of the first parts where she posted and Castaway responded. I was editing other screenshots when I learned of her reply - I went and read it, rolled my eyes, and left to go back to editing pics. When I realized I had forgotten to grab a screenshot... I just decided I am too tired to go back and get it. I've been completely honest and open about literally everything up to this point. This is the first thing I have paraphrased. Unfortunately, from what I can tell, she has already deleted Castaway's reblog on her end and thus her response to them. Now, Castaway's response will remain up because once something is reblogged by someone it remains on their blog. But Malleus mod's response to them is now gone as far as I can tell. So, since I did not grab a screenshot, their response to Castaway is technically hearsay unless someone provides the screenshot of it that I failed to take. I've been transparent this entire time - I'm not going to stop that policy now.

There's this update!

Now, can someone go take away this apparently grown woman's internet privileges, please?

The Ultimate Compilation Callout

Hey Guys! AR OOC once again to say I am 100% done.

I'm done with this. I thought it was finally dying down and the drama was finally getting to be over with but then she came back and is now trying to say that we are the ones in the wrong. And she is STILL trying to blame Leona's mod when, as both @/castaway-achlys and I have stated numerous times at this point, they were asleep during the entire event. They did not ask for us to defend them. We were both just tired of hearing our friend be exhausted and stressed out by her.

And the fact that so many people have come out to give their own experiences of her being rude and cruel to them just proves this is not a singular event.

I'm putting all this under a cut because it's gonna get long guys. In fact, I’m probably going to end up needing to create a couple reblog chains to get it all out.

But I'm done playing nice. I have all the receipts. Like I went allllll the way back to when the discord was first created. I caught her in her first lie.

Which, coincidentally, her very first lie in the Discord server happened on the very first day it was formed. What a way to start.

I call her the Malleus mod as an identifier in these screenshots, because unlike her, I am not petty enough to reveal peoples’ personal information on the internet just because I don’t like them.

HOWEVER. I will remind everyone that she is not JUST the owner of the Malleus account. Even if you don’t want to look under the read more because there are a LOT of receipts, know that these are all her known blogs.

I do not condone harassment. Harassment is basically what started all this. Just block and go.

Malleus Draconia @/therealmalleusdraconia

Falena Kingscholar @/the-falena-kingscholar

Aijuka (A Leona gf OC) @/the-one-aijuka

Jack Howl @/frosh-jack-howl

Fellow Honest @/fellow-honest

Meleanor Draconia @/meleanor-draconia

Baul Zigvolt @/baul-zigvolt

Sebek’s Mother @/thethickestone

Marja Felmier @/marja-felmier

And her latest: Eric Venue @/ericvenue

(Bonus non-rp blog @/thetwistedminds)

Before we get too far into it I will say there is a slight color code! But only a tiny one!

Gross light green color - look at that lie! 👀

Gross darker green color - a lie is revealed! 🤭

Orange - note the date/time! 🗓️⏰

Let me show you what I mean in the lie I’ve already mentioned - her very first one. :)

There we have the orange, telling you to note the date. That’s because I was wanting to make sure it was known that the pet posts were made on the same date that the discord was created.

And then we have the gross light green around Malleus mod claiming that this bunny is her bunny and that it was her bunny’s birthday recently.

Now here is the follow up with the gross darker green of a lie revealed. 😌

And there we have it! The color coding system and her very first lie told the very first day the Discord channel was active and easily disproven with an image search.

Now let’s get into the FUN STUFF! /sarc

We’re going to be doing some rehashing here but I’m also going to probably be including some new things so stay with me folks! This’ll be a ride! Buckle up!

So, originally I was thinking I'd start with the current drama. But considering that a lot of that has already been covered and what hasn't been covered needs more context, I'm just going to keep going in chronological order, I guess.

I've been up for over 24 hours compiling receipts, editing them to protect IDs, and then getting them all sorted so let's finally do this so I can pass out!

First up is something that actually has been covered a bit but I'm going to expand on it slightly - her blatant lie to @/elysia-nsimp (I'm not tagging anyone because I'm not forcing anyone to get notifications on this lmao).

Here's what everyone has already seen. But to expand on the event, we didn't call her out on her bad behavior, even though we probably should have as she had just lied straight to another mod's face about her blog ownership. I simply DM'd the mod in question privately to make sure they were okay and then tried to keep the peace in the main chat.

Because, believe it or not with this major callout post, I don't generally like confrontation. But I stepped in there for Elysia and I stepped up during this for Leona's mod.

Now, later that night, she posts this as if nothing had happened and she hadn't just been told that she needed to work on her roleplaying skills:

Uh huh. Sure. That's your last account. Because you have shown so much self-control when it comes to filling character voids within the twst rp community already. I'll be generous and give you a month before you break.

Now these next ones need a tiny bit of background information and a note: the Malleus mod is German and, as far as we know, lives in Germany. These next pictures are little indicators that she has not experienced the United States at all. These indicators may not seem important now, but they will be in just a little time. So keep them in mind for after the pause.

You cannot tell me anyone who has spent any length of time in the United States has not at least heard of Walmart.

Quick pitstop to say wow! You didn't even make it a month! Congratulations!

Also, note the question from the admin and the pretty obvious passive aggressiveness from me. We were sending plenty of hints that they needed to stop - sometimes coming outright and saying it, sometimes simply implying. Either way, we were all ignored.

She says she's not a mind reader. Well, apparently she's just not a reader period.

Now... a bit of an oddball here. And I want to say I do not necessarily think this is a lie. I am including it for a lie that is coming. The one that I included all those America comments for.

I'm sure you will note that I said that I don't "necessarily think" it's a lie - indicating that I do think it could be a possibility. That would be correct.

She has been lying since day one and, after this doozy of a story I'm about to share with you, I honestly don't know what to believe when it comes to her.

So.. to sum this up...

We went from a cringe ask from an OC account that she didn't want to answer -> the asker wasn't supposed to be on tumblr because they were underage (???) and was trying to date her irl and somehow had all of her information (oh but don't worry guys she deleted the ask!) -> he found her social media accounts and sent her NSFW pictures and started spam liking, demanding pictures of her kids, sent pictures of her at-the-time boyfriend, sent pictures of his family and his kids -> so she blocked him on everything and then started spam creating the rp accounts to see if he did it with other people or if it was just her (...mmmhmmm...) but nope he was only interested in Malleus -> she then apparently moved to America for a bit to crash with her boyfriend because this underage person went to Germany to find he.

Oh, by the way, why was this guy obsessed with her? Oh, he was obsessed with German women. He decided that all German women were pretty. And she's German-Russian! And Russians have intense standards for women you know! After this guy found out she was German AND Russian, I mean... it was only a matter of time before he upped his game to try to find her!

Guys, she's not saying she's too beautiful for her own good - the underage stalker speaks for itself!

Now, since this stalker found her through her Malleus account and was obviously very determined, you would think the first course of action would be to, ya know, delete the Malleus blog. Right?

No, no, no! Then she would have to start all over and, of course, if she switched accounts she would be forced to make a post on her current blog saying what her new blog is and he would just find her there. That's why she's trying to make her other accounts more active than her Malleus account (her Malleus account was still, by far, before all this happened, the most popular of all her rp blogs)!

Can I also mention that in that post announcing her pregnancy ON HER MALLEUS ACCOUNT WHERE SHE SUPPOSEDLY HAS A STALKER, she had tagged ALL OF HER BLOGS AT THE TIME?

But yes, Malleus mod. I definitely believe your story. :)

Please. Please tell me you all can understand why I just cannot find it in me to trust a single word coming out of this woman's mouth.

Especially now that during this whole drama, she has been lying through her teeth and trying to pin the entire blame on Leona's mod.

Now this part is nearly over (thank whatever gods anyone believes in) but let's just post the last few of the "before drama happened" pictures, shall we?

...I'm realizing I didn't underline the part where I called her out for having that many blogs in the gross dark green of a lie caught... oops. This is what happens when you have far too little sleep.

But either way, here is another time when she was called out on a lie of hers. And her little comment at the end means she read it and she acknowledged us.

She just didn't care because it didn't suit her.

~~~~~~

ALRIGHT!

THAT'S THE END OF PART ONE!

Yeah. This is going to come out in PARTS. I can't cover it all in one post because there is a picture limit.

So, I'm going to end up making a reblog chain...

Eventually.

Real talk? I need to sleep. Desperately. It's nearly two in the afternoon where I am and I have not slept yet.

Do not underestimate the power of spite and my loyalty to my friends. Both are very strong motivators.

But my body's needs are finally winning.

When I wake up, I'll have the Ultimate Drama Arc to post and expand upon and then the Return of the Drama Arc.

Yay. (said in the most unenthused voice ever lmao)

Anyway. Enjoy all this. I'm gonna go die. /j

[riddles-n-games]

Chasing Ghosts

Pairing: N/A Summary: Rewrite of Ch. 21 in The Hawthorne Legacy featuring Avery and Oren. Length: Short Story Type: Rewrite

A/N: Hi guys! Here's an old draft of mine from my rewrite era that I finally decided to finish although I can assure you that it's not the only one I have left. There's a bunch to come and please comment or message me if you want to be put on a tag list for my future fics.

My head of security laid it out for me. "Tobias Hawthorne the Second. You think he's alive."

“I know he is.”

Oren was silent for a long moment. “Have I told you how I came to be in Mr. Hawthorne’s employ?”

I had no idea where that question had come from. “No.”

“I was career military, ages eighteen to thirty-two. I would have stayed in until I hit twenty years, but there was an incident.” The way Oren said the word incident sent ice down my spine. “Everyone in my unit was killed except me. By the time Mr. Hawthorne found me a year later, I was in bad shape.”

I couldn’t picture Oren out of control. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” Oren said, “I need you to understand that I owe Mr. Hawthorne my life. He gave me a purpose. He dragged me back into the light. And the last thing he asked of me was that I stay on to head your security team.” Oren let that sink in.  “Whatever I have to do to keep you safe,” he continued, his voice low, “I will do it.”

“Do you think there’s a threat?” I asked him. “A real one? Are you worried about whoever left that heart?”

“I’m worried,” Oren replied, “about what you and the boys are doing. About the ghosts you’re digging up."

I scoffed at that and shook my head. “Speak of the ironies, Oren. Haven’t you concluded yet that the so-called “ghosts” we’re digging up are because of your former boss? Why do you think me and the brothers have been going at this for three weeks? Because Tobias requested it. You know what Xander’s clue was after the first game? Find Tobias Hawthorne the Second. Why would he want his own grandson who would be put in a perilous position to find his uncle if he didn’t want him to dig up said ghosts?”

He gave me a long hard look but stayed quiet. I continued, “You say that he saved your life and for that you owe him. So tell me why the same man just asked another to risk theirs?” I was scared for Xander. If Oren was right about one thing, this mission was a dangerous one. We were digging up the past and when that was a billionaire’s past, only God knew what that would bring up from the depths. Blackmail, shady dealings, dark web connections, the list went on. I shivered at the thought.

Oren sighed. “Mr. Hawthorne had a… particular way of doing things. They weren’t always savory. That extends to the way he raised them. The boys, as good as they are, never really learned not getting their way, at least in the case of his games.” 

I considered that. The brothers weren’t all bad and for all the assumptions I may have had about rich boys, they were the best bunch to be around. However, the amount of family drama they had clearly influenced certain behaviors and attitudes. “This is why I’m concerned for your safety. These boys, they’re grieving and while I’m sure this final hurrah of his helps them cope with his death, it’s not wise to pick up a cold case. Somebody could get involved that he crossed, that’s why we have the List. And furthermore, his son being alive could mean your ironclad status as heir could be very easily dismantled. Why risk it?”

Yes, why risk it all? I rolled the question around in my mind, thinking up the insinuations, the consequences, the pros, the answers we’d get if we solved it, the questions if we didn’t. But there was something more. “I have to know,” I whispered.

“What was that?” 

“I need to know. Oren…” I looked up and met his gaze. “I’m sorry.” I shuffled around the desk and made my way to the door.

“Where are you going?” he called after me. “Hey!”

“I’m sorry, Oren. I’m so sorry but I got to do this. I can’t give this up.” 

“Avery, explain what you’re thinking. What are you doin-” The last part of his question cut off as I found the nearest passage and the entrance turned back into the wall. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. Then I reached for my phone and texted Jameson.

[dailybrandonrogers]

hiya so i used to be a huge brandon rogers fan but fell out for a few years and. oh boy did I miss a fuck ton of lore in those few years. i stopped watching basically when stuff and sam just started, so ive missed... a lot. while ive been trying to catch up (i cried my eyes out over bryces series), you seem to have the timeline worked out pretty well. what order would you say the brcu should be watched in? and is it important to keep up with "minor" roles/series like theater class or the grandpa hates ___/elmer hates ___/other solo skits, or is it better to stick to the "main" series (stuff and sam, blame the hero, etc)

also, I wanna say your analysis of the brcu is awesome. it's a confusing set of timelines that you've ironed out and theorized about pretty damn well. im curious if brandon rogers has done all this on purpose or if he's just making the timeline up as he goes

Hi! My sorries if this reply is a tad bit late, I always have trouble saving answers to my drafts.

In my personal definition, I'd say the BRCU encompasses (almost) every single video Brandon Rogers has ever made. Within the BRCU, I definitely think there's a "core" overarching storyline that revolves around certain characters. This core storyline is primarily explored via the several series, but nonetheless includes elements from other creations of his.

These "core" characters are primarily:

Sam & Donna

Elmer

Blame

Bryce Tankthrust

Bobby Worst

The Mingeworthies

The majority of them have been protagonists of a series at one point or another. However, almost every character played by Brandon himself can be considered important to the overarching plot. Therefore, I think watching individual character skits released 2015 - 2018 offer valuable insight into the personalities and smaller nuances of reoccurring characters. At the very least, I would recommend watching the videos centred on the aforementioned characters released in this time period prior to any of the series.

In general, I think the BRCU is best watched in the order the videos came out in. Although tricky at first, I think Brandon makes it easy to discern "where" we are at any given moment. And as a rule of thumb, outside of series, every video takes place chronologically in-universe after the other.

Moreover, as of 2022/2023, I believe we're going through a renaissance of sorts with an abundance of new characters being regularly created. Pretty much anything after Normal British Series. While very entertaining, I wouldn't say these are essential to understanding the main plot, as Brandon does have a degree of separation between old & new characters.

To hopefully simplify things, here's a playlist I made that imo includes more than enough context needed to understand that main storyline. If it appears a bit overwhelming at first, I'd rerecommend just sticking to skits of the characters I mentioned above before moving onto the series. Anything else can be a fun bonus!

Thank you so much for your kind words!! It makes me happy to know that you're enjoying my attempts at unravelled the complexities of these timelines.

[bitletsanddrabbles]

WIP Wednesday: Alex Support Version

Since @alex51324 has been dealing with Obnoxious Crap (TM), I've tried to turn my attention back toward the Island for a bit. I got a bit further on the piece I wanted to work on...then this ambushed me.

It's ironic. When I started "An Armada to Sail On" the last person I thought would have a chapter was...

...okay, Syl, who still doesn't have a chapter. But he was pretty much tied with Gordon. Now, not only does Gordon have a chapter, but of all the chapters my brain has decided to occasionally go 'Hey, you know, we could expand on that' with, it's that one. Go figure.

And so we have the first Island Sandbox bitlet that officially ties in with another piece. It's also the first thing I hand wrote, then typed up. Roughly three days, four and a half pages handwritten, 832 words typed. I'm still counting it as a rough draft because I'm not certain about the ending. I'd planned on making it longer, but this seemed a punchier place to stop...if it's clear what happens immediately after the last line. If not, I can spell it out a bit more. And of course, I've not language checked the characters against the original yet.

Anyway, here is a Thing! Hopefully it gets a chuckle.

-

“Speaking of ‘stepping out’,” Eddy said, his eyes sliding Thomas’s direction. It was Saturday night and the RAMC boys had been gossiping about Theo and one of the newer blokes. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of your free time with Gordon lately. If you aren’t careful, he’ll scare off all of your suitors and you really will die an old maid!”

“Old bachelor, you mean,” Dave scoffed from Eddy’s other side. On the far side of Dave, Rouse rather pointedly focused his attention on his beer. “Or have you decided you don’t care ‘cause no one here’s good enough for our ice prince?”

Peter, sitting on Thomas’s left, frowned. “That was uncalled for.”

“And rather pointless,” Thomas agreed before calmly taking a drink. “After all, I’m already taken.”

Surprise erupted like machine gun fire from the entire group, except for Rouse. “By whom?” Eddy demanded.

Thomas looked at him as if he’d just asked where his own shoes were. “Gordon, who else?”

“What, really?” The other man frowned and squinted at him, clearly trying to figure out if he was taking the piss or not.

“Of course, really,” Thomas scoffed. “You just said you’d noticed.”

“I’d noticed you were spending time together, yeah, but not that you were…you know…” Eddy continued to squint at him a moment, then turned to Rouse. “Oi, Frank! Did you know about this?”

“Of course he did,” Thomas replied, saving the doctor the effort of reminding them all about patient confidentiality. “Gordon and I talked to him about it first thing.”

“Willingly,” Rouse confirmed. “I still can’t believe that part.”

Thomas shrugged and took a drink. “We wanted you to know what was going on, in case rumors started flying around.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.”

“But why him?” Dave demanded, the picture of indignation. His name was on the list of suitors Thomas hadn’t realized he’d had until after the fact. “What does he have that the rest of us don’t, besides a fucking mouth?”

“Yeah, that’s one thing you definitely don’t have, Dave,” Rouse muttered, just loud enough for the whole bar to hear. It earned him a couple of chuckles.

Thomas thought a moment, then shrugged. “None of your business?”

“Not saying a fucking thing against the lad,” Tully chimed in, topping off Thomas’s glass and giving him a carefully measured look, “but it does seem a curious choice.”

Well, if Tully was going to nose in, he supposed he’d better answer, at least if he wanted to keep getting free drinks on Saturday. “If you must know, he figured out the one thing I’d been waiting for someone to do and did it.” Thomas paused for a reaction and to take a drink.

“Namely?” Tully asked once he’d put his glass down.

“He asked,” Thomas informed him in the driest tone he could muster. “In plain English.”

“That’s it?” Eddy gawped at him as if he’d just claimed he was going to fly to the moon.

“But,” Peter protested, gently as always, genuinely perplexed, “other people did that too.”

“To right they did!” Dave scowled. “I know I did!”

“No you didn’t,” Thomas snorted, giving him a dismissive look. “You asked me to the pub and to watch the dart’s tournament. Next thing I knew, it was all over the island that I’d thrown you over for Nigel because I went to the concert with him.” Of course, Thomas hadn’t taken his rumored relationship with Nigel seriously until he’d suddenly cocked that one up too.

“Of course it was!” Dave blustered. “Why wouldn’t you have gone to the concert with me?”

“You don’t even fucking like the concerts, Dave,” Tully reminded him. The looks he was giving Thomas had gone from stern to speculative. “You never go.”

Thomas cheerfully picked up the thread. “And plenty of men who aren’t stepping out have gone to the pub together. Really, if father Tim asks me to come to the pub and I say yes, are you going to accuse our vicar of infidelity?”

“It’s not the same.” Dave insisted.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “If you were that interested, the least you could have done was offered to walk me home from church instead of expecting me to read your mind and know that ‘let’s go to the pub’ meant something more than ‘let’s get a bite’!”

“Richard did that,” Peter pointed out, almost apologetically.

“Yeah, my first week here when nothing felt real yet!”

Peter gave a little grimace and shrug, conceding the point.

Dave harumphed. “Yeah, well, you’ve been here years now. Would’ve thought you’d’ve caught on to how these things are done by now.”

Thomas gave the other man his nastiest smile. “Well, I haven’t.”

Eddy, who was looking between Thomas on his left and Dave on his right like he was watching a tennis match, apparently decided it was in his best interest to play peace keeper. “So, what? Gordon just asked ‘Oi, Thomas, do you want to step out’?”

Thomas watched Dave lift his glass to his lips, waiting for him to take a healthy swig before replying. “Actually, he asked me to marry him.”

[kiwiwinjindouche]

@lapinneok sooo(rry for the tag)

[...]who are her fathers? :0

Well, more like "adoptive fathers", sorry for the confusion!! I meant Corvo/Kirin. Kirin never really adopted her in a "legal way", he just kind of took her into his mansion and they started to vibe. Don't get me wrong, Kirin is terrible at being a 'decent father figure'. I don't think he'd consider himself as such either. Moreover, Corvo and Kirin won't ever get married (at least I don't think they would?) (and she has a complicated relationship with Corvo that doesn't help) (but both still care at least a bit about her)

[...]aldina's is more of a mystery (what will she do!!! haha)[...]

Thank you!!!! (probably nothing good lol 👀​) indeed!! Not even Kirin is spared from this. She knows the insides of the mansion so well now, crawling here and there like a little mouse. It became one funny playground to her! (sometimes Kirin regrets his choice to have invited her in)

ivanoe's fate is so tragic[...]

Ivanoe's really just there to die and bring trauma to them 😩​ and nope, nothing horrible's planned for Marisol… For now at least (hahah jk… Unless?? Oh no, I want to add more drama to them now)

Marisol would tell him she has a kid already, and another one on the way, but not decided on a name yet. She asks Kirin if he has some ideas, if he'd like to still be part of it after all this time, and his answer's pretty clear atm: not really. He's still trying to process how he feels exactly about Corvo.

But moving on to a few days later, I thought he could reconsider this and gives her possible names? Not that he actually wants to see the kid(s) (he's still very much uncomfortable around them and such) but Corvo could have convinced him to not being a jerk for once, even more to an old friend? (please tell me if I'm going way too ooc dkdndkdnls)

Also obviously Marisol will start talking about Adrian and Corvo

New chart and we can clearly see the new ones lol: Marisol and Ivanoe are at the center! ft Dulce the cat (killed by Kirin oopsie)

As for the fic, it has been seating on my mind for more than 2 years I think? But I keep going back to it, changing things so Kirin and Corvo's relationship might be more coherent, adding some lore, reorganizing the chapters, and… Taking a huge break on it to play Baldur's Gate 3 instead. RIP. But I think it was needed, cuz I could have a fresher look at it? And as I struggle to finish it in French, I'm reminded I actually have to translate it in English next, and my soul leaves my mortal body to break down among the stars

(I have like, 3 or 4 different drafts, longer one was 57 pages on word which is one of the longest things I've ever written so far and I found things to change/add so now I'm getting afraid of myself)

(it's mostly another 'BUT WHAT IF we could bring Jindosh on the Dreadful Wale too' with my OCs saying 'hi', nothing really new I suppose but I don't want to care much about it cuz maybe the main plot isn't new but I'm bringing my ideas to it too and bruh I just want to write about them so whatever) (there're more or less 18 chapters planned) (idk if that answers your 'question'?) (also yes I'll try to add Aldina to it too, or maybe save it for another thing someday)

haiii! 8 for Aldina and 9 for anyone because im interested in general!

(also i'd like to know about Marisol and Ivanoe 👁👁)

Yippee!!! :D

Thank you for your interest!!!! <3

8. Would your OC ostensibly be able to get away with murder?

Yes. Aldina could probably talk her way out of it, or if things get worse, ask for help from her fathers.

9. Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

I can answer to that with a few of them. I have to think about this for the newer OCs (aka young Kirin's "crew", mostly).

For Vincent, I decided to go with the last line from The Sands Of Serkonos: "We'll slip onto a whaler and maybe we'll escape".

He's been in Karnaca for a few years now, and that song might be one of his favorites. I think he likes to listen to the songs people sing in the streets.

To stay with the whole 'whaler' thing, Aldina's one is simply from The Drunken Whaler: "What will we do with a drunken whaler…"

I like to think they kind of respond to each other, in some way. Also Aldina loves to creep people and to sing slow, disturbing lullabies while behind the walls, at the mansion.

Now, less lyrics and more quotes.

For Sybill, it had to be a Sherlock one, obviously, and I went with one from BBC Sherlock (which I love a lot): "What is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring."

I think it suits her and is a good sum up on which kind of person she can be!

And I've got one for Caleb (the grumpy man in the navy). It's from Niccolò Machiavelli: "It is not titles that honor men but men that honor titles."

He has a strong sense of honor and puts a lot of importance to this kind of things. If it wasn't for that one, I would probably have chose another lyric but from Honor For All.

And that's it for the asks! As for Marisol and Ivanoe!! :D

I still have to do better references for them, I only have a small sketch of their heads.

Both are from Karnaca. Ivanoe was a very kind soul, living with his mother. He was 3 years older than Kirin. He liked to take care of the stray animals, the ones even more easily forgotten by Karnaca's cruelty. Always hurt somewhere, too many lights scars on the body, taking care of the unwanted.

He really, really hated Kirin. For his lack of empathy, for that time he killed a cat out of curiosity. Why would anyone in the group let him stay? he's dangerous. But he's Adrian's little brother and the others were fine with his presence.

Unfortunately, one day, Ivanoe disappeared, only to be found by the group few days later. He's been killed by bloodflies. That left a mark on them (except for Kirin, he didn't care much, said it was his own fault).

Marisol's parents were whalers, and they died at sea. She's 4 years older than Kirin, and was in love with Adrian. Young Kirin was a tiny bit jealous, but Marisol had interesting things to say - sometimes - so m'okay you can stay with my brother I suppose? (more or less)

She's always love to draw and had an artistic soul. So, when Kirin was still in Dunwall, at the Academy, and Adrian died in the mines, she decided to leave for Morley. She wanted to stay away from Karnaca, to take a break from the city that ruined her life (Ivan's death didn't help either). She'll have a hard start, but will eventually get a renown there and finally marry another man, Octave (I've talked about him before I think!) Octave is also a very artistic one, interested by animation.

When Octave heard more about Kirin's silvergraphs, and his will to animate things too with them, he wanted to go to Karnaca and meet him, and Marisol followed him, thinking it was finally time for her to go back there and fight her demons. And so, they meet again, after all those years, and start to talk about their life, the changes, and the past.

I'm really too invested into young Kirin's life for some reasons xD Kirin was lonely, but his brother wasn't, so in my headcanons Kirin was squatting (I lack a more proper word lmao) Adrian's group mostly, because Adrian cared about him and didn't want him to stay alone and the such. And (almost) everyone was fine with it.

And I'm adding some interludes with them in my fanfic! I NEED TO FINISH THAT DAMN FANFIC

[riallasheng]

Squiddo's Ask Game

Got three asks while I was out giving my brother's car a jumpstart and tow with my truck, so answering them all together ^^

(I do hope that is acceptable tumblr manners, my apologies if doing so is rude)

@teapotteringabout

@alexthefly

@mrmustachious

I'll be doing my usual 'Lady Penelope, TOS, 04 film, TaG' for each question ^^

Under the readmore because LONG (as in I crashed the editor six times long!! XD)

teapotteringabout's first, as I recieved those first^^

12) If I could delete a episode/scene, which one would I pick and why Lady Penelope: *laughs* you'd think that'd be a TOUGH one, as I like pretty much ALL of Penny's adventures and stories in her comics and novels... BUUUUUUUUUUUT... I hate the 'Penelope as a Young Adult' comic run (for multiple reasons. I hate that we jump from the 2050s / 2060s to the 1960s. I hate that Mrs Petherton and Spider are gone as they were REALLY GOOD characters. I hate that Penny goes from a rich girl to a 'middle class' girl, becuase her being rich IS a factor in who Penny is. I hate that her being a SPY and goign to go to SPY SCHOOL was dropped. I hate that Penny has a total personality change. I just DO NOT LIKE the run, so it's what I'd cut TOS: Probably Thunderbird 6, even though I do like several scenes in it. Or if it remained it'd undergo a heavy enough re-write to basically be no nevermind / in-name-only. I used to have a fanfic rewrite of it that made it TinTin focused, her deciding if she wanted to remain Support or become Active Rescue that I wrote back in the early Naughts, but it sadly was lost over the years and I've not had anything resembling the time to try to rewrite it ^^;; If not Thunderbird 6, then probably the novel Ring of Fire as it was a very disappointing conclusion to the novels. 04 film: Hm. Oddly a tough one. While there are scenes I dislike, I usually can see WHY the scene is there and/or it's important for the plotline or character arcs, OR it's a case of good concept but poor execution. *ends up spending several RL minutes going over scenes I dislike and realizing that 'crap, no, that's needed for the plotline / character arc / concept is sound'* Y'know, I'm gonna do something odd here. 'What is a big plot element that you'd change to teh point that the original plotpoint is dropped / replaced'. And the answer to that is use the rumor that in the first draft of the film, Jeff was recently gone, lost on a rescue, and SCOTT was the one in Jeff's role... struggling to keep IR going, dealing with recent grief, and trying to keep his mid-teen brother safe for as long as he could. (I do wonder if TaG used this old rumor / idea on purpose or if it was just a coincidence) TaG: Either of the Sally episodes ^^;; And this one isn't even that I dislike Sally, or at least 90% of it is not that... I just ended up disliking the episodes by themselves plotting / story wise. I dislike several things in the EMP episode, but the standout THERE was actually Sally's 'save one life' speech becuase while that's a noble sentiment... FATE. OF. THE. WORLD. and BILLIONS of lives depended on the bad guys not getting away with the device, Sally had NO IDEA that they didn't have it, and she should have told Virgil to go after the bad guys while on-site rescueers or she herself saved the one life (that's actually the scene that made me start actively disliking Sally rather than being neutral on her, although there are other scenes that added to it). As for the other episode... I've yet to run into an example of 'the support team uses the machines and solo saves the day while the rescue team is unavailable' that I liked, and this one is no different.

14) A headcanon I love, dislike, and have a neutral opinion on. Lady Penelope: Love: Penny's mysterious former-spy father is actually a retired Agent 21. The ages line up, and canonically the Agents change their name both when they JOIN and when they RETIRE, and Agent 23 looks so simular to Penny that people constantly think 23 ***IS*** Penny and use her bio picture as a picture of Penny. Dislike: That Penny is disdainful or even dislikes Parker. She canonically and directly states how much she respects and likes him in her novels and comics, and while she sometimes is at odds with him, that respect and like remains. Neutral: That the reason Penny has a fear of mice and rats is due to one of her earliest spy missions going wrong and her spending time captive in a mice/rat infested cell that left her with psycological and physical scars. ...Plus, to be frank, MOST PEOPLE were scared of mice and rats at the time. They were a real problem and in some cases danger to people. There's a reason that the REAL villain in Lady and the Tramp is a rat, and it going after the baby is something that could and DID happen IRL. TOS: Love: (oh so many XD) Let's go with an odd one. That Jeff has been friends with Wilbur Zero, Sam Shore, and Charles Grey since childhood, the four still being friends even into current times. All four know and respect that there are secrets each has that they can't talk about and must actively protect, and they do their best not to investigate or even help support / protect it if the need arises. The other three are certain that Jeff is FINANCING International Rescue, but they don't realize that the Tracys ARE International Rescue. Dislike: I don't like the 'Gordon doesn't actually get along well with his family' headcanon. I don't know if it's still a thing, but it was something that cropped up on occasion in older fanfics and zines and BOY do I dislike it. Neutral: Alan's astronaut training was done at WARP (WSP in canon, I changed it to WARP - world astronautical & rift patrol - so it stood out from the OTHER WSP - World Security Patrol, and WASP - world aquanaut security patrol). This one is neutral because to me it seems likely to the point of being near canon ^^;; 04 Film: Love: That there is a missing scene once all is said and done and they're safe on the island and Alan is being congratulated by Jeff when you suddenly hear a "ALAN!! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY BIRD!?!" off camera from Scott when he finally gets a chance to check One over becuase One got put through the wringer a bit XD Dislike: That Fermat is Brains' CLONE. Why is THAT the 'only' option?! Why is that the FIRST option!? Why is 'Brains was with someone and they seperated or the woman was lost, perhaps in the same accident that killed Alan's mom' not what people assume? (actually if you want some terror fodder... look at how Fermat reacts to WOMEN compared to how he reacts to MEN, because that is nearly textbook for a young teen abused by a woman / mother.) Neutral: The Tracys don't mind people filming the Tbirds because there is no way to STOP THAT with cameras being as readily available as they are, and they always wear the disguising helmets we see Virgil wearing during the Oil Rig rescue when outside the Tbirds so their identities are protected. TaG: Love: That IR has actually only been back at full operation for a short time frame, as there likely was a solid chunk of time where Scott was the only one old enough to be on rescues (John could have easily been on comms the whole time, but Virgil would need to have been in his late teens at minimum to take up the duties required for Two. Same for Gordon. Kayo seems to have been MIA until fairly recently, Alan only JUST started rescue work, and there is no indication that Sally was ever involved in rescue work.

Dislike: That TaG Gordon was in WASP (and actually that TaG Scott was in the Air Force). Gordon's, at best, 18 or 19, when tag starts , and the youngest you can enlist at is 17... and that is with guardian permission. the catch is Gordon's been an active member of iR for well over a year given all dialogue. Thus there's no TIME for him to have been in WASP. TOS Tracys are all 19 (Alan) and up, they've all had time prior to IR for pre-existing careers... the TaG boys don't, esp with the 'iR has ben a thing for over 8 years' Neutral: The reason the world seems so 'at peace' is actually narrator bias. The tag Tracys are all to a man pacifists and are attending rescues... the world is not as peaceful and perfect as they think it is, because they are to one degree or another protected from it.

Now I answer Alex's question!!

15) which protagonist do I think would make a good villain? (The answer may surprise you!! XD)

[dorimena]

Ugh... been thinking about Aizawa crying during sex. Sucking on your fingers? Tears. Cockwarming? A river has been cried. Pegging him? Fucking waterfalls. Idk, man. Got any headcanons or add-ons about this? Maybe a short little blurb? — 🐬

Oh my-

I actually have this draft somewhere in my files about Aizawa crying during sex and cockwarming him (and I’ve been tempting myself to release sometime soon). But him crying a river because he’s cockwarming you? That sounds incredibly sexy, even better, dear 🐬 anon (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; aizawa shota

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 1.2k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; implied female reader, cockwarming, pegging, overstimulation (?), crying, cursing, mostly shameless smut, dom!reader, sub!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; crying Aizawa, sobbing Aizawa, slut Aizawa, mating press, couch sex, loud sex, lots of cum

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; yes, horrible title, terrible joke, but it’s kind of funny, right? I got carried away, as you see... will I ever be able to write a blurb? Probably not. It’s not proofread!

𝕴𝖙'𝖘 𝖌𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖍𝖔𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 (𝖘𝖔 𝖑𝖊𝖙 𝖒𝖊 𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖉𝖎𝖈𝖐.)

He thought it was going to be a romantic date night at your place.

You promised some delicious food, some strong liquor, some nice massages, maybe throw in some soft cuddles as you lull him to sleep.

You did mention before that you had a little surprise for him to reward him for his good work this week, for saving more lives, contributing to keeping the city safe, teaching the kids at UA everything they need to know to excel in the hero world.

And what a surprise it was when you took out his favorite strap on he gifted you. But maybe he shouldn’t have gotten so excited at the idea of you fucking him until he forgets past pains and sufferings, maybe even today’s disappointment with how Kaminari seemed to forget how electricity could very much be well conducted in water…

Because for the past hour or two, maybe three, you’ve had him sitting on your lap with your silicon dick in him, slapping his thighs even if he were to shift, making him leak more tears each and every time the stinging becomes more intense.

You’re tempted in gagging him to see if with the lack of words he’d cry more.

“Stop moving so much, babe. We’re supposed to be relaxing.”

Your mocking purr makes him shudder as he flinched at another slap. Looking down, he can somehow make out, through his tear-covered vision, how his skin is turning red, a blurred handprint noticeable at the edge of the growing redness. He can also see how sticky his thighs are with how badly his dick is weeping in thick blobs of precum. God, has he always been such a slut?

Well, his shameless moan at the appearance below him and the lasting sting on his skin is enough to answer his own question.

“C-can’t he-elp it.” He groans out, trying his best to ignore how much hotter his body keeps getting the more he’s forced to sit still, the more you keep ‘accidentally’ teasing his nipples and play around with his precum covered thighs. Don’t you feel disgusted? Aren’t you?

Because if you are, that’s too bad. He hasn’t felt so proud of himself since-

“Auugh! M-mistress!” Aizawa sobs, feet trying to plant themselves onto the ground to keep himself stable as you slam up into him again, and again, and again.

No signs of mercy ever-present as you drag out of him so, so painfully slow before you go ahead and hit his sweet spot straight on.

Even with his feet on the ground and his back pressed onto your chest to keep him still, his hips still pitifully chase your thrusts, desperation present in every way he twitches and sobs.

He’s not even moaning, or even if he is, it’s just a garbled strain of your name fucked out of him as you coo praises and compliments into his ear, your hands grabbing onto his thighs to keep them spread so that he doesn’t shy away from your cock.

Turning your head a bit to see his face, you grin at how red he is, just like his wet, slick covered dick, his cheeks decorated with trails of hot tears coming from his closed eyes. And once he opens them, he looks into your eyes, eyebrows furrowed upwards as he wonders why you’re smiling like that, as if he were something so magical, so beautiful.

But this isn’t a time for something so romantic, not with how much he’s burning from deep inside his core up to his skin, flushing everywhere that’s possible as he manages to whimper out.

“H-hard, hard! N-need- nngh, ri-ide you!” And a please is whispered so, so sweetly, so softly, so unlike how society sees him as.

“Go ahead.”

And he rides you like there’s no tomorrow, even if you’re still slamming into him at an even faster pace. He can ride you, but you’re still in control of how fast everything goes.

He doesn’t complain, and not like he can even give his usual sarcastic remark with how his mouth's currently occupied letting out a waterfall of cries, moans and sobs, getting louder and bolder with every fast change of speed.

He’s gripping onto the couch cushion below you with such strength, you swore you heard a rip- but that’s alright, it was old anyways. Right now, feeling the way he can’t even control himself to at least act anything but a porn star is rewarding and forgiving enough.

His tears from earlier? You’re sure there’s enough water to bathe in, feeling how it touches your shoulders, seeing how it trails down to his chest, some lucky ones even going to his neglected dick. Poor thing, weeping just as much as the man who’s feared by so many criminals and past students.

This delicious fucking is going animalistic with how he’s bouncing on you, skin slapping polluting the air as much as the smell of sex. You hope neither filter outside into the neighboring apartments, although you’re positive you’ll be receiving some unhappy calls from the landlord.

Aizawa feels so, so hot and so, so close. It’s so painful, too painful, he’s never felt this way before. Maybe it’s how deprived he was for weeks, how starved he was for you, how desperate he was to be able to cum after so many failed attempts.

But he’s becoming so, so, so loud, with his sobs echoing around the apartment, his cries of your name and ‘mistress, mistress, mistress!’ ringing in your ears that maybe you should’ve gagged him. Your fingers will do-

And they did, with how greedily he’s sucking them, as if they offer the finest water to help quench his growing thirst to cum, cum-

“Cu-umming!”

And you let him, not retorting anything, not depriving him anymore as you send the most powerful thrusts you could muster into him to hear him wheeze so, so pathetically, reminding you how old he is, even if just 31.

And his eyes? His beautiful onyx eyes are glowing red, his sweaty, tangled mess of black hair floating in the air giving you the view of how he didn’t only lose control of his quirk, but also how he lost control of his thighs, his quivering, trembling, now cum covered thighs.

He’s babbling anything that comes to mind, it’s difficult to know if he’s praying for mercy or praying in gratitude, his hips still sliding up and down your cock as every hit to his prostate milks out more and more cum, the hot substance spurting onto the floor, onto the coffee table, onto his thighs, legs, feet, everywhere.

It’s so pornographic, so unbelievably out of this fucking world that you just need to see him do it again, even if you’ll have to stay inside of him to keep him horny and hot and bothered.

“Ag- augh- gain?”

Aizawa doesn’t wait for you to answer, and to damn your answer, not with how he still feels his dick burn with more need, still so hard because you wouldn't give it our attention.

But you do this time, switching your position to fuck him deep into the couch, mate pressing him as you flick your wrist furiously as wet sounds join in the symphony of his wails, his pleas of mercy which you’ll never, ever give to him unless he says the safe word or you’re feeling romantic.

[imkylotrash]

Whatever It Takes

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader

Request: They’re getting ready to go into the Quarter Quell, and essentially have a super sweet conversation where they confess their love, and are like “damn the revolution I’ll protect you”. Anonymous

A/N It’s been a long time since I read the books so if I accidentally used the wrong word for something please let me know and I’ll correct it 💛

Tagging: @bitchwhytho​ @music-of-melody​

You called it before they even announce it. You knew all the victors would get involved in the Quarter Quell because how else would he get Katniss to be in the arena without letting the public know that it’s purely to kill her? When you hear Finnick’s name get called out, there’s no choice. But was there ever one to begin with?  

“I volunteer as tribute,” you say raising your hand to let them know that you’ll be going into the Quarter Quell and not that poor girl they’ve got on stage. You don’t look at Finnick because you know his face will just mirror back the pain you feel. No matter what the revolution has planned, you highly doubt that both of you gets out alive. The focus will be on Katniss because she’s the one that’s been fuelling the fire while the rest of you can die a martyr and inspire the people then Katniss’ death would squash the tiny flame. It’s not fair but she made everything possible when she took out those berries. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Finnick tells you once you’re on the train travelling to the Capitol. 

“There was no way I was going to let you go alone.” Not to mention that innocent girl who got drafted. You’d have been a proper piece of shit had you not volunteered. 

“But you could’ve survived. Don’t you understand that’s all I care about?” 

“Careful, Finnick. Someone might hear your declaration of love and think it means something else.” It’s a warning that the walls have ears and not necessarily just the Capitol’s ears. Although you both want to think only the best of the lovely Coin, you can’t help but feel like it’s too good to be true. And you have no doubt that she’s got as many spies all around as President Snow. 

“I just want you to live,” he says hearing your warning loud and clear. Katniss and to some extent Peeta are untouchable, you are not. He takes your hand without another word. The rest of the train ride you remain quiet, too worried about saying the wrong thing and jeopardising this whole thing. Haymitch is counting on to keep Katniss alive until the rescue mission and your lives can’t matter more than the entire of Panem. Even if you want to say screw that sometimes.

“God, you’ve gotten old,” you smile spotting Haymitch next to the star-crossed lovers. He scoffs but can’t help but laugh. You’ve known each other for quite some time now and learned a long time ago that humour is how you all get through this with at least some level of sanity.

“I see your kindness have only grown over the years,” he mocks before giving you a massive hug. Being a victor and having to mentor the kids every year creates a certain bond between you all but Haymitch has always been one of your favourites. It’s the reason you know you can trust him to do you a favour. 

“We should talk once all the celebrations die down. Catch up on old times,” you smile giving his shoulder a friendly squeeze. He agrees suggesting the rooftop for a gorgeous view. When Finnick sneaks his arm around you, there’s a slight pang of guilt but you force it to the back of your mind. He’s going to survive the Quarter Quell if you can do anything about it. 

“What did you talk about?” he asks quietly and you keep a smile on your face not even looking at him. 

“Just good old days,” you utter hoping Finnick will understand not to ask more questions right now. There are too many people around you to speak freely and, in a minute, you’ll have to get on that carriage and pretend you’re proud to be fighting once again. 

“Katniss, Peeta!” you call out catching their attention just as they’re about to get on their carriage, “nice costumes.” You’re trying to be nice and establish some sort of positive relation between you but all it does is make Katniss stare at you like you’re personally responsible for putting her in the Quarter Quell. 

“I already tried. Tough nut,” Finnick tells you. It makes sense why the revolution needs a face but why they would ever choose someone like Katniss is beyond you. She’s not kind or caring expect when it comes to the people she loves. The future of Panem seems oddly low on her list of priorities but then again when has war ever made sense? And you certainly can’t say you’re morally better than her. 

“Is holding hands a cliché?” You look over to Finnick who’s doing his very best to put on a brave face.

“I think it’s perfect.” You intertwine your fingers with his not letting go until the carriage has driven through those gates at the end where the public can’t see you anymore. And even then, it’s just to get some blood flow back. 

“I just want some sleep,” Finnick says itching to get the costume off and you’re thinking the same thing. You ride up in the elevator with Katniss, Peeta and Joanna which makes for an interesting end to the day. 

“Never a dull moment,” you say before exiting the elevator with Finnick. Joanna laughs loudly while both Katniss and Peeta looks slightly mortified. If she’s trying to win over Katniss, Joanna is doing a poor job. 

“Let’s take a shower,” Finnick suggests now that you’re finally alone and you’re all too happy to comply. In the shower you can finally speak freely with the sound of water drowning out the sound of your voices. 

“I know it’s horrible to say but the revolution doesn’t matter to me if I don’t have you next to me when it’s done.” He slowly lets his hands slide down your arms until they reach your hands. 

“I know,” you whisper feeling the exact same way. The guilt returns tenfold this time but you keep quiet knowing that when he’s sleeping tonight, you’ll be bargaining for his life. 

“I say damn the revolution. I swore to protect to you a long time ago and I’m not breaking that promise now.” He kisses you with a fire that tells you just how badly he wants to keep you safe. Desperation takes over your body as you kiss him back. You wish you could leave now and hide somewhere far away from everything. If it were up to you, you would’ve fled the moment you heard about the Quarter Quell. But it’s difficult leaving behind so many decent people who needs your help and the few moments of hesitation had been enough for the peacekeepers to show up and make sure you didn’t take off. Snow always knew you were a runner. 

“And I say you’re sounding crazy. We can’t change the plan now. There’s nowhere to run.” As much as you’d love to run away and hide with him, you know it’s too late for that now. You wouldn’t make it out of the building. 

“I don’t care if I sound crazy. We can protect each other in the arena, make sure we never part. And when they come get us, we make sure they grab both of us.” It’s cruel really to give hope to him because you know it won’t work but you wish it could be so easy. 

“And then when we’re out, we hide. No more war, no more revolution. Just you and me and a small cottage near the water.” Hope may be cruel but it’s a strong motivator to survive and if anything you need Finnick to survive. You hide your face in the crook of his neck allowing yourself to feel a pang of sadness at the prospect of the future you’ve lost. Your lives ended the day you got drawn for the Hunger Games. 

“And you can finally have enough quiet to paint,” he adds and you don’t have to see his face to see the affection in his eyes. 

“It would be perfect,” you say closing your eyes to picture the cottage and the life you could’ve had with Finnick. The water hides the tears that fall from your eyes and it’s a good thing because you’re not sure you would be able to hold your secret from spilling out if Finnick noticed. 

“I promise I will make it happen. I promise we’ll be alive to spend the rest of our lives together. Whatever it takes,” he says. Instead of answering him, you kiss him again. When the water turns cold, you get out and dry off. You both know that your safety is gone now and they can hear whatever you say so you keep quiet letting your eyes do the talking. You cuddle up in bed where you wait for him to drift off before you head to the roof where Haymitch is waiting. The wind is loud tonight working as a noise diffuser. 

“I want you to save him.” It doesn’t surprise Haymitch but you both know he can’t make any promises. 

“I know Katniss is the main goal and that’s she’s probably made some demand for Peeta. But if there comes a choice between saving Finnick or the rest, you save him. Do you understand?” It’s the least he can do for you after everything you’ve sacrificed for President Coin and the revolution. You could’ve had a life if things had gone differently. 

“And that includes me, Haymitch. Once you’ve gotten Katniss and Peeta out, Finnick is your priority,” you add knowing that if Haymitch could choose, he’d pick you. 

“Finnick will make more sense for the revolution. I won’t be an asset the way he can be.” He knows you’re right. Of course he does but it doesn’t mean he has to like it. 

“I know,” he grumbles. You both know there’s a good chance you won’t make it out of that arena but then again none of you have been safe ever since you became victors. Snow made sure of that. 

“Promise me. I need to hear you say it.” You’re not satisfied until you hear him say those words that will give Finnick a chance to make it. As much as you’d love to believe his plan of getting out of the arena together, you can’t afford to entertain the idea. Even if Finnick isn’t ready to admit it, you both know it’s a fairy tale ending you won’t get. 

“I always thought he was just your way of getting through it, you know. That he offered some sort of relieve.” Maybe at first Finnick was your escape from reality but not now. He’s your world and everything else. 

“He has my heart, Haymitch.” You hug him tightly hoping he knows how much his friendship has meant to you over the years of being a mentor.

“Take care,” he says before you spin around hurrying back. Finnick doesn’t wake up until you crawl back to bed but a quick excuse about the bathroom satisfies his curiosity. 

“I love you,” you whisper looking over at the man who’s given you so much more than you’ll ever be able to explain. 

“I love you more.” 

[sandibullock]

I was wondering if you could do a tutorial on this gifset that you did i really like ittt

Thank you for sending this in, anon! I’m glad you liked it and wondered how it was made :) Fun fact: the day before you sent this, I had just started working on my next set in that “Select Filmography” series. I hope you like that one too when it’s ready!

I think I should start by saying I’m pretty new to giffing myself and there might be more efficient ways of getting to the same result. However, the point here is to show you the process I went through to make this gifset and hopefully help you understand how to make a similar one.

To follow this tutorial, you will need some version of Photoshop and some giffing knowledge. I know there are multiple ways of making gifs so I’m just letting you know I’m using the timeline and the “Convert for Smart Filters” option (I don’t really know how else to call it).

Now let’s get started!

STEP 1 - CHOOSE THE SCENES

It might sound obvious but, in my opinion, this is the most crucial step. It’s also the one that takes the longest (along with step 7, aka the coloring).

At this stage, you need to have a general idea on how you want your set to look like so you can choose the scenes accordingly. In my case, I knew I needed two types of shots for each movie: one close-up for the main gif and one mid shot for the shape. I also needed to take two other criteria into consideration: the movement (because of the shape) and the lighting (because darker scenes are such a pain to color). Last but not least, I didn’t want the characters to be talking (but that’s just a personal preference).

With all of that in mind, you can start saving a few screenshots of scenes that meet your criteria (or at least some of them). In the end, there won’t be that many to choose from so be prepared to make compromises.

STEP 2 - MAKE A DRAFT

Now that you’ve preselected a few scenes, you can make a first draft. This will help you turn your general idea into something more concrete.

Basically, this is your opportunity to organize your thoughts. What size do you want your gifs to be? What shape are you going to use? On which side do you want the close-ups to be? Do you want all of them to be on the same side or do you want to alternate from one gif to the other? Do the scenes you chose work together (gif-wise but also set-wise)? Are you happy with the way it looks, overall?

By answering all of the questions you might have now, you’ll save yourself a lot of time, trust me. Of course, you can totally skip this step if you already know exactly which scenes you’re going to use and how you’re going to present them together.

To give you an idea, this is what my draft looked like for Atomic Blonde.

STEP 3 - PREPARE YOUR GIFS

Once you have a clearer view on how you want your set to look like, you can finally start giffing like you usually would (i.e. importing, cropping, resizing, etc.).

It should then look something like this.

The important thing to mention here is that you want both of your gifs to be the same number of frames (32, in my case).

Ideally, you should also aim for the ~same~ coloring (especially for the skin tone, since both gifs will be so close to each other). This bit is particularly difficult when you chose scenes which have opposite lighting (see my two uncolored gifs below). Remember how I insisted on steps 1 and 2? It was to help you avoid this. So my advice would be not to choose these types of contrasted scenes, unless you can’t do otherwise and you’re ready to suffer!

STEP 4 - MAKE YOUR SHAPE

To make your shape, you can click right on the Shape Tool (U) and select the last one, Custom Shape Tool. From the Shape menu appearing on top, you will be able to choose the shape you want from the drop down list and start drawing on your gif.

To be more precise with the dimensions, you can manually adapt the length and height from the Shape menu itself. I decided to go with the same ones as my gif.

Once your shape is positioned like you want it to be, you can drag and drop the shape layer under your gif. Next, you will have to click right on the gif layer/smart filter and select Create Clipping Mask. The result is as below. Note that if the size of your shape was smaller than your gif, you would still be able to reposition your gif with the Move Tool (V).

You can now export your shape gif, reopen it in Photoshop and convert it again to the video timeline and to a smart filter. This is where I’m not sure it’s the most efficient way of doing things but it’s the only way I found to keep the coloring of each gif separate. I also find it easier to work with a smart filter.

STEP 5 - COMBINE YOUR GIFS

To add your shape gif to your main gif, you can simply click right on the shape gif you just reopened and select Duplicate Layer. You can then choose the project which contains your main gif to duplicate it in there. Now go to your main gif and reposition your shape gif where you want it to be (how many times did I say gif here?). Finally, you can draw a new shape, using the same dimensions as in step 4, reposition it and choose any color you want from the Shape menu.

Since you will be repeating this process with your following gifs, I suggest you add a few guides so you know exactly where you should place everything to make all of your final gifs look the same.

(In case you’re wondering, the “Base” folder contains my adjustment layers/basic coloring for the main gif.)

STEP 6 - ADD THE TITLE

This step is pretty simple: go on the web and type “[name of the movie] title”. Download the png you like most, open it in Photoshop and resize it to a length of about 150-200 pixels. Next, duplicate the layer to your main gif and reposition it. In case you need to resize it again, select the title layer and go to Edit > Free Transform (Ctrl+T).

This is optional but in case you want to change the way it looks, know you can always duplicate the title layer and play with the blending options (see below). The good thing with a png is that you can also add some effects by clicking on the “fx” button.

STEP 7 - ADD COLORING (OPTIONAL)

To be honest, I had not planned on coloring my gifs. But I had already spent so much time on them and I was still unhappy with the way they looked. I mean, see how grey-ish they are? Not great...

So the only thing left for me to do was to add some colors. Now, since coloring is worth a tutorial on its own and it already exists, I suggest you read through becca’s mega coloring tutorial (and especially steps 3 & 5). Seriously, shoutout to her for making this incredibly useful tutorial. She is so talented and I love everything she makes!

My Atomic Blonde gif barely even needed coloring so I’ll show you what I did for my Tully and The Old Guard gifs.

For the first one, once I had found which colors to use with which blending option and opacity level, I only had to remove the colors from the left side of the gif because there was barely any movement in that scene (phew!). For the second one, on the other hand, I decided to color frame by frame because there was way more movement, in comparison. This is quite a tedious process, which is why you want to limit yourself to a certain amount of frames.

I’ll conclude by saying there are so many things you can do with coloring and what works with one scene might not work with another. So experiment with it: try different colors, play with the blending options and opacity levels, add some gradients and/or gradient maps, etc. Just know it will take some time to get to a somewhat satisfying result!

And that’s it... I hope this tutorial made sense and was somehow helpful. Of course, don’t hesitate if you have any questions! Also, if you do end up making a similar edit, pleeease send me the link or tag me in the replies or something ‘cause I would definitely love to see it!!

[starsmuserainbow]

Okay, so, since I'm asking this everyone that I'm starting new threads with these days, I figured instead of typing the whole stuff everytime anew, I could also simply make a post that I then can link whenever I wanna ask these things.

Please don't reblog this post, I'm not writing this with the intention of having it be a widespread PSA or the likes (I dread the notification-amount I would get if it became one), it's just a post where I place the questions and answers I'd like to offer those I wanna talk to this stuff about. I mean, honestly, if we're mutuals I might/would likely be okay with you reblogging it, if you wanna keep it on your blog or something. But please, at the very least if we aren't mutuals, don't reblog it. Link others to it, if you must, but please don't reblog. I really don't want the mess of notifications.

The rest below the cut, but as for the question I'd be asking before sending you this:

Do you know of the new way of cutting posts, and/or about Xkit Rewritten?

First off - this is not a very detailed tutorial or the likes. I'm not giving a illustrated step-by-step or anything like that; if you want one of those I can recommend this one (I've linked it to a few people before).

Okay, so, I'm trying to start at the beginning.

What is Xkit Rewritten?

You know Xkit? What you confirm with 'yes' right now probably refers to what's called 'New Xkit'. That already, as the name tells, was a remake of an earlier version of Xkit - or so I assume at least. Now, Xkit Rewritten basically is the new 'New Xkit' - I think it's only maintained by one person of the original Xkit, but again, that's just from how I understand it.

In other words, it's the extension/addon you need if you want Xkit's features to keep working (at least those that get adapted over). If you don't know of Xkit Rewritten yet, you'll have found at least some - if not by now all - of Xkit's extensions not working anymore. Like the mutual checker, "shorten posts", and probably a lot more but I quite honestly never used that many of them so I wouldn't even know if a good bunch doesn't work anymore. Xkit Rewritten has at the very least some of those extensions - the mutual checker for example - as well, and since it's the newer Xkit, those actually work.

I'm sure you can find it easily on your own, but in case not, here's a link which will forward you to your needed place of downloading, depending on your browser.

Does it work on mobile?

I'm rather certain it does NOT work for the app. I have no idea if you can install extensions in the mobile browsers (I doubt it though), so I can't tell you about that. If you can install extensions, perhaps you could also install Xkit Rewritten. I don't know, sorry.

Why would I need it? The old way of cutting posts, the way we all know, still works!

Well. Yes, it does, but only when you do the opt-out of the beta editor. (I think by now you can use the beta editor on old-way-cut posts after you cut them and saved them as draft? Although I'm not sure if that was just a glitch of sorts or if that's actually the case - but like, same thing, you still need to use the legacy editor to actually use the old cutting)

As much as some might have disliked the beta editor when it first came out, or perhaps you still do - the fact is that eventually, it will be the only editor. I assume that that will still take a while, since there still seems to be a good bunch of things that they wanna fix or still need to make the beta editor be able to do, but, one day it's gonna come. Personally, I'd advise to get used to the new things as they come (or like, shortly after they are brought to us), because it'll probably be nicer when you already know what to do once the switch fully happens, instead of panicking then and starting to learn your way through a new method.

Also, but recent experiences of my own allowed me to use the beta editor on old-way-cut posts too, the new editor does have a few nice little things that you don't have right away available in the buttons on the legacy editor. Colored text, for example, and those fancy text types. You don't need to go into coding for those anymore with the beta editor.

And another reason - I'm not sure, but I think that glitch is still there where, if an icon is at the end of the reply, the next person's first part of the reply will also be indented (or, I think, look like it on the dash at least? Something like that). Since the trimming (aka the new cutting) works a little different than the editable reblogs (aka the old cutting), that won't be happening anymore. In fact, you won't be able to edit your partner's reply at all anymore. Which also means that, if you were doing that so far, you can't edit in the name of the partner-muse in the url, or do similar changes to that part.

One last thing: As far as I understand it, you are able to trim the post later too, as in after writing your reply, even after posting. Just click the little symbol, and it's trimmed down to only the previous reply.

What do I need to use it?

Basically, nothing else than you always needed. Your computer, your browser, the Xkit-Addon (just, now the new one - I recommend keeping both for now though).

Take care to make the start of a new thread in the beta editor though, the new trimming can't work with legacy posts. If you want to make older posts of yours edittrimmable through the new method, you will also need the mobile app to make a change (non-visible is enough even, like adding a space somewhere after a sentence or so) to the very source-post (aka the very first part of the whole thread) - or you just make a new post and continue from there.

How do I use the trimming?

Okay, so, first off, you need to make sure that above point is checked. Either it's a post you made or edited on mobile, or it's a post you make new (I think you need to do that with the beta editor for it to work), just, it has to be of the right type.

Once you have that, and I assume you have Xkit Rewritten installed and "Trim Reblogs" activated within that, it really isn't that much of a task.

You reblog a thing like you always would. Press the reblog-icon on the post (or on the blog or whereever), save it as draft, or whatever your action of choice is. (You can also write on it right there, if that's what you do, though I can't guarantee you that that works, but given the trimming still works when you have already posted your thing, it should still work if you type your reply right away and only then draft/queue/post it.) Now, you go to where your post is now. In my case, that's usually in the drafts. There, in the post-footer (where you also find the symbols for deleting or editing the post) you will see a little scissor-symbol. Click on that, and voila - you're done. Your post is trimmed, and you can now edit on it or leave it there or whatever exactly your next step is.

So should I just remove 'new Xkit' already?

I wouldn't do that yet. A lot of people are still using the old cutting of posts. It has problems, and causes things, but people are used to it and if you switch entirely to the new method, you won't be able to cut the posts that people with the old cutting cutted.

I personally very much prefer the trimming, but I still use both Xkits - and whatever trimming/cutting that I need for a thread - in order to keep my things cut with some people adapting and some keeping the old cutting.

Does it cost me anything to use it?

Outside of the fee for your internet, and, like, the electricity of your computer and so on? No. (Although if you have the money to spare, I'm sure the one that put in all this effort of coding Xkit for us, making it a whole new version of it and so on, would appreciate some financial "thank you", or however to call it. You would need to look that up yourself though.)

[digimonandpokemon]

I posted 4,688 times in 2022

That's 3,407 more posts than 2021!

59 posts created (1%)

4,629 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@benkaaoi

@reynaruina

@derinthescarletpescatarian

@broosepayne

@toxicure

I tagged 1,124 of my posts in 2022

#save for later - 48 posts

#danny phantom - 30 posts

#scp - 22 posts

#danny phantom x scp - 20 posts

#moon knight spoilers - 19 posts

#moon knight - 18 posts

#unreality - 17 posts

#danny fenton - 14 posts

#rambles - 10 posts

#answer - 9 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#the entire thing is a beauty and the beast romance novel but make it a thousand times worse because the writing feels like it came straight

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Clearing out my drafts a bit. Enjoy.

Dp × SCP

Another thing Dr. Bright is not allowed to do is let SCP-4304 write his reports for him. Dr. Bright, we understand that writing reports is a very long and daunting task, but letting SCP-4304 write your reports is very unprofessional. Keep in mind SCP-4304 is a fifteen year old boy and does not have the language suitable enough to be writing reports for the SCP foundation. Not only that, but it is Dr. Bright's responsibility to be doing these reports in the first place. We were lenient with the "Safety Dance" references in your reports but there is a line that can't be crossed.

Allowing SCP-4304 to write "ussy" at the end of certain words describing an entrance, has simply gone too far. If foundation researchers have to read another "doussy" when describing a keyhole, there will be many negative consequences.

Also, allowing SCP-4304 to "Rick Roll" fellow researchers in reports has gone too far. Especially after leaving coded messages that made some personal researchers think they were on a cusp of a breakthrough. Dr. Heisman has not fully recovered once he realized the words he decoded were meant to be a prank. Especially after it took three sleepless nights to break them.

If you are to allow SCP-4304 write your reports for you, Dr. Bright, at least attempt to proofread them. Letting SCP-4304 write "it was scary as fuck man D:" in documented reports is entirely unprofessional and puts a bad name on our foundation.

This will be your first and final warning Dr. Bright.

-Sincerely

The o5 council

183 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

#4

Since this idea got really popular, I've decided to write some stuff. Yall can have these while you wait

See the full post

580 notes - Posted April 17, 2022

#3

The first part got more popular than I thought it would so here's more! I just think that Danny and Dr. Bright would get along really well. Despite the headache of everyone on site.

See the full post

656 notes - Posted April 16, 2022

#2

Me seeing my school has a Tumblr: I bet they don’t even know about Plinko with blorbo from shows being sent to Eeby deeby to meet with glup shitto and scrunglo 

755 notes - Posted January 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I'm in love with Danny Phantom and scp crossovers. I'm too tired to write so have this instead

See the full post

1,218 notes - Posted April 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[cudan2]

One Last Surgery

Spring Break Shadowing Part 5.1

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Word Count: 2,043

Summary: You finally find out the reason for going to the children’s hospital, but you’re more distracted than usual today and Dr. Cullen can tell. 

A/N: Tell me why part 5 of SBS takes up over half of the whole series? I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for 5 months because I keep adding more to it smh. Now it’s too long so I’ve decided to split it up into 3 parts (in addition to parts 6 and 7). I’m making the final edits the rest of this part now - 5.2 should be posted in like two days.

Anyways, this is technically the beginning of  #1 and #2 on my headcanon list.

Masterlist

XXX

Morgan Stanley Children’s Hospital is only across the street from Doctor Cullen’s office, but it seems to take forever to get there. You trail the doctor like a lost puppy through a skyway and a series of corridors before eventually reaching the right building. Different is definitely an understatement.

Gone are the linoleum-tiled floors, the abstract paintings lining the hallways, and the stark white walls. Instead, there are bright colors everywhere you look. Artwork featuring various galaxies and planets scatter throughout the hospital, and giant stars are imprinted along the floors; even the whole atmosphere just feels different.

You don’t get much time to analyze the differences though. Doctor Cullen is wasting no time to reach the destination, and his long legs aren’t making it any easier to keep up.

“Not that I don’t like surprises, but any chance you can tell me what we’re doing in the children’s hospital now?”

“Impatient, are we?” Doctor Cullen chuckles. He stops at an elevator and pushes the up button, only giving into your question once he catches a glimpse of your pout. “Alright, you win. Are you familiar with a cleft palate or cleft lip?”

The elevator dings, the doors sliding open with it. You shake your head no and get on the elevator with him. He presses the button for the floor and then leans against the wall, arms outstretched on the handrail, and gives you an explanation. 

“A cleft is a gap or split occurring in the roof of the mouth, upper lip, or both. It is due to improper joining of the tissue during fetal development. There are no definitive known causes as of right now, but it’s believed that the environment and genetics can play a role.

The hospital has its own craniofacial team, but I was asked to join this particular case given its more complicated nature. Hanna became one of the first patients I treated when I came to Columbia,” Doctor Cullen finishes fondly, a smile gracing his lips.

“What makes this case complicated?” you ask.

“Hanna was born with a bilateral complete cleft lip and palate, meaning her lip cleft is two-sided and continues into her nose. It took quite a few surgeries to repair the lip, but now the next step is to repair the palate.”

The elevator reaches the floor and dings. You follow Doctor Cullen out and continue prodding him with more questions, which he is more than eager to answer. It’s incredible how knowledgeable he is. Granted, it is his job to know these things, but you couldn’t begin to imagine yourself being able to even scratch the surface of these topics, not to mention give a mini lecture on it.

You’re soon standing at the door to a patient room while the doctor asks Hanna’s parents if you can observe. They readily agree, and Doctor Cullen motions for you to come in.

Inside the room, you see an infant that can’t be more than a year old – Hanna.  She’s sitting upright on the bed, leaning against who you assume to be her father. You notice two fading scars going up into her nose above her lip. Her mother is waving a stuffed toy around her, but Hanna’s attention is fixated on the blonde doctor.

“Y/N, allow me to introduce you to Hanna’s parents, Anthony and Linh Pham. And this is Doctor Giselle Adamou, who will be working with me on the surgery,” Doctor Cullen gestures to the older doctor in the room.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” you say politely.

Pre-op goes differently than what you’ve gotten used to observing this week. There is no case presenting given the lack of residents on the case. If anything, this is what you would expect out of a non-teaching hospital.

Doctor Cullen re-explains the procedures to Hanna’s parents, but halfway through, Hanna crawls to the end of the bed where Doctor Cullen is and attempts to stand, arms outstretched as if to say, “Up! Up!” Bewilderment is not a word you would have associated with him, and yet you catch the brief widening of his eyes that betray his usually calm demeanor.

“I think she wants you to hold her,” Linh comments.

“I can see,” Doctor Cullen muses. “Do you mind?”

“She’s all yours.” Linh picks her daughter up from the bed and hands her to the doctor. The sound of Hanna’s elated laughter fills the room, and you can’t stop a small smile from appearing on your own face. A cute baby and a gorgeous doctor? You don’t know who to thank for the sight.

Meanwhile, Hanna starts playing with various pens in Doctor Cullen’s breast pocket while Doctor Adamou continues where her colleague left off. You try to pay attention, you really do. Like Hanna though, your attention lies on someone else, and that someone else happens to be Doctor Cullen.

The more you study him, the more the minute features you never noticed about him before seem to pop out to you. Under the bright fluorescent lighting of the hospital, the dark purple circles under his eyes are more apparent than ever. How ironic for the preacher of health to lack sleep himself. His eyes, which you normally consider to be a vivid golden, are darker than you initially thought them to be. They are liquid pools of dark amber, speckled with dustings of gold and flecks of black. There isn’t a single blemish on his face that you can see either, further confirming your belief that this man is truly the most attractive person you have ever met. Either that or he must have one hell of a skincare routine.

It’s unnerving how young his appearance is. Skincare and diet can only do so much for a person, right? Doctor Cullen has to be at least 35 at the minimum, yet he could easily pass off as someone from your own school.

“Any last minute questions?” you hear Doctor Adamou ask and snap back into reality. By missing nearly everything the older doctor talked about, you already know you’ll be so screwed if and when Doctor Cullen decides to interrogate you on this case.

Neither parent has anything left to say, so Doctor Cullen gives a reluctant Hanna back to her mother. She lets out a cry and his expression softens.

“I know, sweetheart. I’ll miss you too, but I need to get ready for your big surgery, okay? I promise you’ll see me again in a few hours.” His soothing voice does wonders for her. In an instant, Hanna quiets down and her frown is replaced with giggles and smiles again. She waves the two of you off, and you both take your leave with Doctor Adamou trailing behind you. You’re not even halfway out the door yet when Doctor Cullen starts testing your knowledge again.

“Y/N, what procedure will we be doing to repair Hanna’s cleft?” 

You do not have this one in the bag whatsoever. You wrack your brain for information that could help you, but Doctor Adamou interjects before you get a chance to say anything.

“Why does it not surprise me that you’re treating students like interns already, Carlisle?”

“I am merely advancing the education of next generation’s doctors,” he responds.

“Whatever you say,” she laughs. “Don’t scare off Y/N though, or we won’t have any doctors left in the next generation.” She turns to you after picking up files from a nearby counter and says, “You come running to me if he pushes you too hard, alright?”

You grin. “For sure.”

“Good. I look forward to seeing you both in the OR,” she says before heading off.

You like Doctor Adamou. Each surgeon you’ve met here so far has had such different personalities, yet each also has the charisma and confidence to take control of a room and command respect. You, on the other hand, could barely get your own friends to listen to your own words. How are you ever going to get on the level of all the amazing doctors around you?

“She saved you there,” Doctor Cullen comments, leafing through Hanna’s charts as he walks you into an empty elevator to the operating floor. Oops, it’s just your luck that he noticed your lack of attention during the pre-op. “It’s unlike you to be distracted. Penny for your thoughts?”

The elevator doors shut, and he looks up from the chart, his eyes falling onto yours. He has that twinkle in his eyes again – the one that brings warmth to your cheeks and could make anyone weak in their knees. You know it’s silly, but a single look from him could make you spill any of your deepest and darkest secrets, yet a part of you also knows that he would keep it. You’re not naïve – you know it’s dangerous to put so much faith into a man you only met this week – but there’s something about him that told your instincts to trust him from the very beginning.

Call it intuition, or maybe it’s just plain stupidity, but you sure as hell aren’t going to tell him about how you got distracted because of his pretty face.

You hesitate for a moment and let out a sigh. “How do you do it?” He quirks a brow, momentarily perplexed, and you attempt to find the right words. “How do you make all of this look so easy? How do you know what the right thing to say is? Or trust that what you’re doing is even right? How did you know if this was all meant for you? This is really dumb, but it seems like everyone here was born for this job, and then there’s... me.”

There’s a slight sense of dread starting to form in your stomach. You’re unsure if what you asked even made any sort of sense and wonder if you gave too much away. Giving any reason to second guess your abilities is like digging your own grave when it comes to this career. Expressing uncertainty is one of the biggest taboos of the cutthroat world that is pre-med because schools would not accept students that aren’t absolutely, totally, and completely sure about this path.

You’ve wanted this for so long, yet there’s still a part of you that doubts if you would be enough.

Rather than going straight to gowning and scrubbing in for the surgery, Doctor Cullen grabs your hand and leads you down to an abandoned hallway, only letting go once the two of you are hidden in an alcove away from any prying ears or eyes.

“What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for surgery?”

“We have a few minutes to spare. Y/N, please know that I understand how you feel,” he says softly. “There was a time when I questioned my own abilities as well… whether my perseverance could overcome adversity. It took quite some time to reach where I am today.  However, without enduring those trials and tribulations, I would not be here. With time comes experience, and it is that experience that allows me to perform my job the best I can.”

His voice reminds you of a gentle breeze, rustling the leaves of a tree on a cool summer night when he continues speaking in hushed tones. It brings a blanket of reassurance, a sense that things would eventually be alright.

“I have said this before, but I see enormous potential in you. You still have a great deal of time to grow and develop your skills. It’s easy to get caught up in comparing yourself with others, especially given today’s societal standards, but I believe you are much more capable than you may think you are. Everyone’s journey is different and yours may not necessarily be as linear as you would prefer. In due time though, I have faith that you will succeed.”

What he says is exactly what you needed to hear.

The swell of tears pricks at your eyes and start blurring your vision, but you blink them away quickly, fighting the urge to wrap your arms around the doctor. 

“Thank you, Doctor Cullen.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“You’re very welcome. Now, I believe there’s a little girl waiting on us.” 

XXX

Tag List - Message me to be added or removed to either this series or the rest of my fics!

@jelly-fishy-babie @notahappytree @anxiousgoldengirl

[killianglyndon]

Hope

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Skywalker! Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: force choke, killing younglings (basically what had happened in rots...), death, age gap (16 years)

A/N: my first Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader imagine haha, and I use some lines in ROTS for plot purpose. I have another one in my draft, will post it as soon as I finished it!

Tatooine, it at the same time felt like home and not. You and Anakin lived on this Planet with your mother for nine years, it still felt like yesterday to you.

Things happened quickly, you didn’t even have time to digest the recent incidents. You knew Anakin was struggling, his fear of losing Padmé. You tried to reach out to him, yet, he shut you out. Build walls around himself, keeping your reach in the force away.

(Flashback)

“Please Ani, don’t do this. The dark side is not the solution to this!”

“It is, sister. Join me, together we will be the most powerful.”

“No! Power is not anything. Did you hear yourself, Anakin?”

“It’s the only way. Chancellor showed me what Jedi didn’t teach us. You can too if you join me.”

“No, I will never pledge myself to the dark side.”

You never thought this would happen, Anakin had joined the dark side. His doubts to the Jedi council, his fear of losing Padmé, and the words of Palpatine, drive him to reach the dark side. How could you not see these signs? If only you could help him if you had tried harder. Maybe, maybe Anakin would not turn to the dark side.

According to master Yoda, not many Jedi had survived during Order 66. You were relieved that your Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi had survived.

“Obi-Wan! You’re alright.” You exclaimed while you ran towards him.

“(y/n)!” Obi-Wan pulled you to him and wrapped his arms around you.

You two had feelings for each other for a long time, but two of you knew it was against the code, you both buried your feelings and agreed to not do anything.

“I...I the younglings...Anakin killed them all…” You sobbed thinking about the image of that, he killed them in front of you. You tried to save them, but there was nothing you could do, Anakin used the force to pin you down. After he killed them, he used the force to choke you until you passed out.

“I know… we saw the security hologram…” Obi-Wan said and put his hand behind your head, trying to calm you down. “I’m sorry…” Obi-Wan trailed. He blamed himself for this, he had failed Anakin, he had failed you, he had failed everyone.

“Don’t. It’s not your fault…” you whispered against his chest.

“It is… I’ve failed him.”

“You didn’t. You’ve taught him everything you know. You’re a great master, Obi-Wan.” You pulled away to look into his ocean eyes, you had to be strong for him. You knew the guilt he carried, his eyes told you everything. His former Padawan turned to the dark side, the one who supposedly brought balance to the force.

Obi-Wan leaned down to kiss you on your forehead before C-3PO headed your way. “Master (y/n), the medical center requested you and Master Kenobi.”

——————

“For unknown reasons, we are losing her. If we want to save the babies we have to operate quickly.” The medical droid said.

“Babies?” Bail Organa exclaimed, looking shocked.

“She’s carrying twins.” The droid answered.

“Save them, we must. They are our last hope.” Yoda said.

After hearing the answer, the droid rushed back to the operating room, you and Obi-Wan followed.

You and Obi-Wan took Padmé’s hands, encouraging her not to give up. She screamed from the pain, the droid holding the baby, “it’s a boy.”

The droid handed you the baby, and you showed him to Padmé.

“Luke…” Padmé whispered and struggled to touch his forehead.

“And a girl!” The medical droid said.

Obi-Wan took the girl from the droid and showed her to Padmé.

“Leia…”

“You have twins, Padmé. They need you...hang on…” Obi-Wan leaned down to talk to Padmé.

“I… can’t.” Padmé winced and took Obi-Wan’s hand, holding Anakin’s japor snippet. “Obi-Wan, there’s… good in him. I know there is… still…” she gasped.

You looked at Padmé then Obi-Wan, tears rolled down your cheeks. You lost your brother to the dark side, and you lost your friend too.

——————

You, Obi-Wan, Master Yoda, and Senator Organa were in the Conference Room of the cruiser.

“Pregnant, she must still appear. Hidden, safe, the children must be kept.” Yoda said.

“We must take them somewhere the Sith will not sense their presence.” Obi-Wan recommended.

“Split up, they should be.” Yoda added.

“My wife and I will take the girl. We've always talked of adopting a baby girl. She will be loved with us.” Senator Organa said and looked at Master Yoda then you. Somehow, ensuring you that they would take good care of her. She would be happy, healthy, and grow up under the love they provided.

“And what of the boy?” Obi-Wan asked.

“To Tatooine. To his family, send him.” Yoda answered.

“(Y/n) and I will take the child and watch over him. If (y/n) want to, of course.” Obi-Wan said and turned to look at you.

“I want to.” You answered and gave him a sad smile. “That’s the least I could do for him and Padmé…”

“Master Yoda, do you think Anakin's twins will be able to defeat Darth Sidious?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Strong the Force runs, in the Skywalker line. Hope, we can . . . Done, it is.” Yoda trailed, then added. “Until the time is right, disappear we will.”

You, Obi-Wan, and Senator Organa stood up, heading out of the Conference Room. Before Obi-Wan left, Yoda stopped him.

“An old friend has learned the path to immortality.” Yoda trailed.

“Who?”

“One who has returned from the netherworld of the Force to train me . . . your old Master, Qui-Gon Jinn.”

“Qui-Gon? But, how could he accomplish this?” Obi-Wan looked puzzled.

“The secret of the Ancient Order of the Whills, he studied. How to commune with him. I will teach you.” Yoda answered.

“I will be able to talk with him?” Obi-Wan was stunned, and to be honest, maybe a little relieved. The recent incidents had him questioned himself, perhaps he could find guidance from his former master.

“How to join the Force, he will train you. Your consciousness you will retain when one with the Force. Even your physical self, perhaps.” Yoda trailed.

Before Obi-Wan left the Conference Room, “Jedi code, no more.” Yoda said, then added. “Feelings, you and (y/n) have for each other. Hide, no more.”

———————

You, Obi-Wan, and the newborn baby Luke were on the ship to Tatooine. Luke was sleeping soundly in his baby carrier. You couldn’t help but look at his face, he looked so peaceful.

You trailed your fingers softly on his forehead, for the first time in a while, you felt calm. You just sat there for a while before returning to the co-pilot seat next to Obi-Wan.

“How’s the baby?” He asked while changing the setting to autopilot.

“Sleeping soundly.” You answered.

Then it went to the comfortable silence again.

“(Y/n), I would like to tell you something.” Obi-Wan said suddenly.

“Yeah?”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, “I want to be honest with you, (y/n).” He looked into your eyes. “I love you, for a long time. There are no Jedi codes anymore…” He took your hands in his. “We don’t need to hide our feelings anymore. Now, we have a chance to have a new life, together. Only if you want to…” He said, trying to sound hopeful.

“I’d like to.” You looked into his ocean-colored eyes.

His eyes lightened up when he heard you, “Really?” He asked.

“Yes. And I love you too, for a long time.” You traced your hand to his face, caressed it.

He eyed your lips, then back to your eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

He closed the gap between you, putting his big, warm hands on your cheeks. The kiss started slow and gentle, you two savored the moment, and you closed your eyes. It was like the world stopped, there were just two of you. This was even better than you had imagined. He delicately nibbled your bottom lip, sucking it a little. You put your hands on his nape, massaging it a little.

When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Nothing.” You smiled at him. “It’s just so… unreal. I can’t believe it’s happening.”

“It’s real, (y/n). This moment, you, and I are real.” Obi-Wan caressed your cheeks.

——————

You watched Obi-Wan hand Luke to Beru, you knew he would be happy there, living a life he deserved.

Obi-Wan walked back to you, standing beside you, and put his hand on the back. You two stood there watching Beru, Owen, and Luke, knowing there was hope after all.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Steve Rogers, The Man On Fire

Hey y'all, as Pride month draws to a close I would like to post this fic. It's been in my drafts for a month and I finally today found the motivation to finish it. This is special to me for many reasons, one of which being that I'm proudly a part of this community. Some of the anger written in is my own. I think a lot of people will resonate with it. I really hope you all enjoy this and happy Pride Month <3

This was based loosely off a headcannon and once I re-find it I will credit!

Synopsis: Steve is freshly thawed, queer, and pissed | A.k.a. Steve's experience in 21st Century America

Characters: Steve Rogers, Mentions of Bucky Barnes, (loosely a Stucky fic but Steve thinks he's dead here)

Warnings: Angst but not bad, Steve Rogers being volatile and chaotic (we love), poorly written accents (I literally read this with an accent in my head), literally a 2k monologue

Word count: 5.1k

Steve Rogers came out of the ice angry.

No— not angry— Steve Rogers came out of the ice fuckin’ furious.

He came out of the ice with his hands curled into two fists, with his jaw clenched so hard his teeth were liable to snap, and with a bone to pick with every damn reporter and historian and too loud opinion on this side of the Brooklyn Bridge.

He came out simmering— no, erupting— like the serum in his blood couldn’t keep his body from hibernation all those years ago but it sure as hell won’t keep him from setting the entirety of New York on fire now. He’ll burn it all down if he has to and rebuild it the way he remembers it— the way Bucky would have remembered it— and at the end of it all no one— not the bigots or deniers or the homophobes that seem to be the only thing that came with him from the forties— will be able to say that Captain America can’t love whoever he wants.

No one will be able to say that Steve Rogers didn’t love James “Bucky” “the man I’ve loved since twelve years old” Barnes with everything he had and then some.

No one.

So he starts with the museums in Washington— because sure it isn’t New York but where else would a relic like himself belong more?

He still has hope when he enters the building. They didn’t make them like this when he was a kid— they had science fairs in the town hall and culture fairs in the backstreets near the docks but never anything this grand. No tall marble pillars or enough stairs to make him wonder if he would have been able to climb to the top when he was half the size he is now. It’s strange. It’s kind of wonderful. Yeah, the Smithsonian museums make Steve Rogers feel small for the first time in a very long time and that gives him hope.

That hope doesn’t last long, though, because soon he’s wandering through the halls, following the signs that say Captain America: The First Avenger— what the hell is an Avenger? Is that what they’re calling soldiers these days? Now he feels small and old.

Turning the corner is like landing on another planet, one devoted entirely to him. His picture is everywhere he looks, his name is in lights, even his damn uniform has been replicated and presented on a little stage and he hates it. The rage is back, sparking at his fingers— he’s a match and lucky for everyone this building is made of stone because if it wasn’t he’s sure it would be reduced to nothing but ash by now.

It only worsens as he begins reading through the plaques and the paragraphs flashing across screens on the walls— he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that. The more he reads, though, the more he wonders if the stone is really, truly safe from the fire in his blood. He doesn’t think it is.

He surely isn’t at least— he feels like he’s going to explode. This isn’t him— none of this is him. War hero. Martyr. Golden boy. He has to stop reading that plaque— clearly no one did their research. Clearly no one dug up his medical files— or his police records. Brawls at the pub, disorderly conduct behind Mr. De Luca’s sandwich shop, public nudity at the beach that one time— thank you Bucky for the best night of his god damn life. Golden boy— ha.

Golden nobody with the black eye and broken hand is more like it.

For a moment he thinks he’s fine— he thinks it can’t get worse than this. Then he gets to the early life section and for an even longer moment his tongue tastes like gunpowder.

Steven Grant Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his friend James Buchanan Barnes—

He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence— not when they already got the most important part wrong. Friend. Friend? No, no, no. No! There are a million words in the english language that Steve could use to describe Bucky and ‘friend’ will never be the first one.

How about best friend?

How about partner in crime?

How about soulmate who loved Steve so much that every night for the past forty-eight days since he woke up in an era that Bucky doesn’t exist in he’s cried himself to sleep with the same cherry cola taste of his ‘friend’ on his tongue.

It’s the final straw— Steve loses it.

“Anyone got a marker?”

The museum is quiet before he speaks but when his voice— steadily rising and taking on that New York headiness that his troops used to jazz him about— cuts through the exhibit— his fuckin’ exhibit— it’s silent. It’s dead, almost as dead as Buck— Nobody dares move a muscle as he rips his ball cap off his head and throws it at the statue of himself. Everyone knows who he is— everyone is going to know who he is so help him god.

“I said—” he tries again— “does anyone have a marker?”

It takes a moment for the people around him to pick their jaws up off the floor and he allows them that moment with a smug grin starting to tug on the corners of his lips. Finally— they’re starting to get it.

He’s not a hero; he’s a supernova of every scrawny, queer kid who’s ever gotten beaten to a pulp for kissing who they want.

Maybe then it’s fitting that the marker— when it’s finally produced and placed in his waiting palm— comes from a teenage girl with a shaved head and a blue, pink, and purple denim jacket and a busted lip. She doesn’t say much— only a mumbled here you go— but her eyes say everything that her words don’t. Give em’ hell, Cap. For the first time since waking up he flashes a genuine grin back— yeah, this one’s for you kid.

Steve wastes no time uncapping the sharpie— he’ll look that one up later— and scratching out the error. The blasphemy to his unholy name. It takes him a little longer to decide what to write in its place. There are a million words, sure, but somehow none of them feel right at this moment. None of them are enough. That’s something he’ll have to come to terms with later, though— how much nothing feels like enough anymore without Bucky.

Finally Steve settles on a word and he scribbles it as neatly as he can given the fact that he hasn’t had to write anything in eighty years. When he takes a step back, feeling alive for the first time since waking up, he beckons over the girl with the shaved head and points to the place where he’s taken it upon himself to correct history.

“Hey kid, why don’t you go ahead and read that outloud for everyone here.”

He allows another moment— this time because she deserves the time it takes for her eyes to light up and the smile to stretch across her bruised mouth.

Steve laughs— a rusted, croaky laugh; another first in forever— when her head whips around, facing him as she loudly proclaims: “It says boyfriend. Steve Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his boyfriend Bucky Barnes!”

“Damn right I did—” he mutters to the kid before taking a step towards the crowd of gaping mouths. “Did you all hear that? Don’t worry if ya’ didn’t— I’ll say it one more time. Boyfriend. Bucky was my boyfriend and if he was here today he would be my husband. If any of you have a problem with that then feel free to take it up with me. I took on half of Brooklyn for that man and I’ll do it again.”

When no one says anything Steve nods, turning to hand the girl back her marker and to thank her— he may be angry but he hasn’t lost all his manners— but when he looks at her she doesn’t look back. Instead she takes the same step forward that he had, one of her hands balled into a tiny, shaking fist at her side and the other wrapped around a cell phone that’s pointed towards the crowd. He doesn’t understand the mechanics but he thinks she’s recording.

“You hear that?” She parrots the super soldier with a wavering but fierce voice. “Captain America likes men! And none of you can deny it!”

This time it’s his mouth that drops, watching as she shakily turns the camera off and spins back around. Before Steve can say anything, though, she’s talking again, this time hastier, and he can’t help but think that she sounds so much like him. All flushed and scrawny and pissed.

“I’m sorry, I’ll delete the recording if you want but, I jus’ know these bigots are gonna’ try and cover everything up and that would be a fuckin’ shame. I don’t know if you know how many kids need to hear this. I did— and I think they should too. Only if you want, of course.”

He doesn’t answer right away— he can’t. It’s like looking at himself at fifteen. Suddenly he’s back again, his feet hanging in the water as his boyfriend paces behind him, asking if he’s ready to have him look at his knuckles yet. He didn’t get that many good punches in— the scrapes are mostly from the pavement— but Buck always worries too much so it doesn’t matter. The protective idiot.

Steve shakes his head, blinking away the sunset lingering behind his eyes. “Bucky woulda’ loved you, kid.”

The next time he loses it— the next time he turns into more flame than man— is after he saves the city he’s been trying to burn down for three months.

It isn’t long after that day in the museum when Nick Fury decides it would be best for everyone if Steve goes back into the field. Of course, no one really asks him what he wants— they pretty much just shove a new suit into his hands and tell him to get training, Captain— but what else is new?

No one really comments on his outburst besides that either. Can you really call it an outburst when you’re just trying to reclaim the parts of you that have been stolen? Sure, the press gets a hold of the story and, true to what the kid had said, tries to twist it into something more digestible, but no one actually addresses it up with Steve. Apparently when someone saves the world as good as he does no one cares that they kiss men.

Or that they don’t wanna’ to actually save the world anymore.

See, in those three months— between the training and training and even more training that Steve Rogers begrudgingly obliges— he has time to catch up on the world. More importantly, he has time to catch up on what the world thinks of him. He scours a plethora of documentaries, scholarly essays, and whole books of information about his time as Captain America. Well— his time as Captain America when it mattered. In all his scouring he learns one thing: everything written about him is wrong.

It’s all so fuckin’ wrong.

Just why the hell would he want to save a world so bent on destroying who he is?

The Smithsonian exhibition was nothing compared to what’s been written in the eighty years he spent in the ice. Better yet, nothing compared to what hasn’t been written about him. They’ve taken an eraser to every part of his life that doesn’t fit with the golden image that they constructed for him. A.k.a. every part that matters. His relationship, his past, every little thing that made him supposedly perfect for the role he was given. Gone. Erskine told him he was a good man— apparently he was the only one who thought so.

Apparently being a good man isn’t good enough.

They only wanted the perfect soldier. Yeah, well, they had one and they fucked him over too. Don’t even get him started on what they did to Bucky— Steve doesn’t want to think about what Winnifred— Winnie for short— Barnes would do if she saw the history books erasing her baby’s Jewish roots. Or his relationship. It wouldn’t be pretty, that’s for damn sure. If ever there was someone more protective than Bucky it would have been his mother. Not that there’s a damn note about her in anything either though.

Maybe that’s the final straw that does him in this time— watching the place that Mrs. Barnes loved more than almost anything else in the world crumble, while also knowing that the world no longer gives a shit about the two people she loved more.

“Mr. Rogers, this is where you grew up, is it not? Is there anything you would like to say about what took place here in your home city today?”

Maybe he pretends not to hear the last part— maybe he really does only hear up until where the reporter asks him if there is anything he wants to say. He’s been around quite his fair share of explosions; it would make sense that his hearing is a little off. Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore, though.

Scratch that— he definitely doesn’t care anymore.

And why the fuck should he? He does have something to say and propriety be damned he’s going to say it.

Steve stares into the crowd of faceless reporters and flashing cameras with a scowl on his grimey face. Around him stand the other Avengers— his ‘team’. The last time he had a team the historians screwed up the history for every single member. Dugan, Morita, Falsworth, Jones, Dernier, Sawyer, Juniper, Pinkerton. Barnes. All of them were brave men with families and sacrifices and all of them were treated like jokes by ‘reporters’ just like the ones in front of him now. He really doubts there’s a difference between old and new journalism.

The only difference is that now he’s here and this time he’s not going to let them write anything but the damn truth.

“It is—” Steve muses, brushing the sweaty hair from his forehead— “I’m surprised you know that though.”

The reporter cocks his head, clearly confused, and it makes the super soldier’s blood boil. “Come again, sir?”

“I said I’m surprised you know where I was born, kid.” This time when he says the word— kid— it’s derogatory. “Ya’ know, considering how you all seem to know nothing about me otherwise.”

Steve almost smiles at the way the crowd tenses. He actually would if it weren’t for the white hot rage coursing through his veins, mingling with the last of the adrenaline leftover in his system. It gives him an extra kick— not that he needs it. Even when he was just a runt from the wrong side of the tracks he needed nothing more than an offhand comment to raise his fists. Fighting to Steve Rogers has always been intoxicating— the aftershocks of winning the battle just makes it more thrilling now.

Who knew, right?

“Sir I asked—” The reporter sputters and Steve simply holds a hand up, silencing him before he can start again.

“Yeah I know what you asked, alright. You want me to talk about the battle here in New York today and how I am more than happy to have risked my life to save it. But I can’t do that, kid. Because I didn’t save it for you. I didn’t save it for any of you.”

Steve feels his team tense— maybe were it any other time he would stop talking. He would just leave it, let the issue go, because Bucky would tell him too. They aren’t worth it, bruiser, he would say, they aren’t worth your blood. Maybe he would listen to his boyfriend because usually he was right. Bucky was always right. So yeah, maybe he would list—

Who is he kidding; he knows he wouldn’t.

Not then and certainly not now— not when Bucky isn’t here to defend himself against everything Steve has been reading about. That’s exactly why he doesn’t stop talking. Someone has to defend him and who better of a person than him? So, yeah, he keeps going, even when he hears footsteps behind him.

“You wanna’ know who I did save it for? James Barnes, that’s who I saved it for! You see, just around that corner there is a bookstore. Rickley Books. That was my boyfriend's favourite bookstore. You know, the man who gave his life to stop a train in Austria from reaching the enemies? Yeah that was him. That train was filled with supplies. Had it reached their headquarters, who knows if we’d be standing here today. If there would be a New York at all. Not that you would know that. But who cares about that dead sergeant from the 107th, right? There’s plenty just like him.”

Steve shrugs nonchalantly— a move he picked up from the very man he’s speaking about— but he spits his words at the reporters with enough venom to cancel out any peace that the action brings. That’s his own move.

He keeps going. “You know who else I saved it for? His mother. Yeah, his mother Winnie Barnes. Wonderful lady. She used to run a soup kitchen a couple blocks from here. Kept the rift raft like myself from going hungry most nights— I was a brawler, you know.”

A couple of reporters in the crowd laugh at that and Steve flinches, his vision tinting red as he cranes his neck, seeking them out.

“Oh you think that’s funny, do you? You think I’m joking? I’m not. You ever been backed into a corner, son? Had people hurl slurs at you that I can’t even repeat today? Ever been beaten up for loving your best friend? No, I bet you haven’t. You weren’t a queer kid in the thirties. That’s hard— that’s borderline impossible actually. I only made it because of people like Winnie Barnes. That woman was a saint but nobody talks about her either.”

Steve has to take a deep breath, clearing the rasp in his voice that rises as he dwells on the woman he called his second mother for so long. She wasn’t just a saint, she was an angel. He can’t cry here though, not now. Not even as his throat begins to tighten.

“Winnie was the type of lady who didn’t let anyone walk over the little people. She used to sit me down and say Stevie you gotta’ fight for what you want because ain’t nobody gonna’ give it to you. She told me that I shouldn’t have to but that there were going to be people who would try to tear me down just for being me. And she was right— just like her son— because that was the era, you know? But now, here in the twenty-first century, you’re all still trying to tear us down.”

A hand lands on his shoulder, small fingers tugging at where his suit has begun to tear. Natasha Romanoff. He meets her gaze quickly, neck craning to stare down the red head, and in the few seconds their eyes meet it’s like Bucky is next to him. Somehow the blue in her irises catches the falling sun just like his used to. Steve can hear the gruff of his voice in the depths of his mind. Back down, bruiser. The sentiment is echoed across Nat’s face.

Steve shakes her hand off him, turning back to the reporters— don’t they know that he can’t?

“You all say you care about me, huh? That I’m a hero? You know nothing about me— you don’t want to. Before I was a soldier I was a kid. A queer kid. I said that already but let me repeat it. Queer. Did you write that down? None of you certainly did before. That’s how I know that you don’t care— because in an age where being queer is infinitely more accepted you still don’t bother to write it down.”

He pauses for another breath, shutting his eyes against the blinking red lights of the cameras. They’re like little demons, always watching his every move. Recording. Everything’s always recorded these days. Will he ever be used to that? Bucky was the technology guy, not him. Not then and not now.

When Steve picks up again— eyes open and shoulders freshly straight— it’s on a new note— a clear note.

“You don’t care about me— you certainly don’t care about the real heroes of the war because if you did you wouldn’t erase our history. Do you know how much it would have meant to Bucky to see our relationship accepted? The man who died for you? How much it would’ve meant to his mother? You can’t just pick which of our stories and our sacrifices are worthy and which aren't.”

He hasn’t spoken this much since he’s woken up, not all at once at least. Maybe he should have, though— maybe if he had then he wouldn’t feel like ripping the heads off everyone in front of him right now. Call it fight or flight. Call it revenge. Hell, call it whatever you’d like because it doesn’t really matter. Either way he feels like a kid again— again— backed into a corner behind the deli with his fists up and his teeth bared.

He feels feral again.

“So now you just want me to save the world like I did— like Bucky did— all those years ago— or maybe jus’ New York— as if that’s any better— and you don’t even bother to write a proper article about me? Hell, I never even asked for an article, let alone a whole exhibit! I’m just a soldier— and before that I was just a kid. If there’s never another article written about me I’ll be grateful. But now that I’m here, standing in front of you, I’ll say this—”

Just as Steve’s voice is cresting into a shout that would no doubt be heard regardless of whether or not the microphones were in front of him, Natasha tries one more time, her fingers slipping between his.

Her voice is a dull buzz compared to his, only reaching his ears by sheer will. “C’mon Stevie— we gotta’ go now.”

Like before he’s stunned but this time instead of seeing Buck— instead of hearing him in his head— he hears Winnie.

You fought good, honey. You fought good for us. You can rest now.

It’s jarring and it’s not lost on him the handful of awkward seconds that it takes for him to respond. That’s just the effect Winnie had on people though— still has, apparently. Steve shakes his head— I know, mama. But I gotta’ finish this fight.

“No, Nat— I’ve got to say this.” Steve mumbles— voice just beginning to waver despite how hard he clenches his jaw— before sneering at the crowd one last time.

“If I ever read an article from any of you that discredits Bucky Barnes, our relationship, or myself just know that I’ll come for you. I’ll come for this city. Don’t you ever forget who I saved it for. James Barnes, Winnie Barnes, and every queer kid who’s ever felt erased because of people like you. The bigots in the forties couldn’t stop me. The Nazis couldn’t stop me. Not even the Atlantic Ocean could stop me. So don’t think for a second that any of you could either. Have a good day.”

With that Captain America turns, marching off the impromptu stage and beginning the trek back to his apartment. He doesn’t bother looking at his team as he passes them— he can imagine their stunned faces well enough on his own. No doubt he’ll be getting another assignment from Fury soon enough to make up for this ‘outburst’ too. Still, he feels a little bit better. There’s an ache in his shoulder, and one under his ribs too, but he still smiles as he passes Rickman and Sons Books. That must mean something good.

The last time Steve Rogers burns he doesn’t burn the way he’s expecting to— he doesn’t vandalize his own name or blow up at a reporter. No, the third time— the final time— that Steve Rogers burns it’s with nostalgia— and with a damn good cup of coffee in his hand.

“I had no idea this place was even here.” The girl across from Steve muses, tiny hands shifting the steaming cup back and forth.

Her name is Ellie, he learned that back at the museum after asking for a copy of the video she took. He barely knew how to use his phone back then, let alone his email— hell, both still confuse him more often than not— but she had been patient. A little awestruck and a little riled up too but he took it in stride— easily. It’s not hard being nice to the spitting image of him.

“I’m glad I’m good for something other than making the news.” Steve chuckles and this time he means it— there’s no malice or ill intent, only humor. “O’Malley’s ‘s been here longer than I have. Looked a little different then—” he takes a moment to let his eyes wander the old coffee shop and it’s new appliances— a moment to feel his age catch up to him— “but I guess I did too.”

Ellie’s laughter joins in there and it’s strange— strange that he hasn’t laughed with another person in seven, almost eight, months; strange that her laughs sound so much like Bucky’s when they were younger; strange that Bucky isn’t here to hear. Here to laugh, too. Because he would have.

He would have called Steve an old man, would have wrapped his arm around his shoulders, would have asked— no, demanded— that Ellie try the plum cobbler. They always made the best cobbler. Bucky always had the best laugh. All grit and breath and him. Steve feels warm just thinking about it.

“Well thanks for letting me in on the secret, I’ll make sure to guard it carefully.” She even has Bucky’s warm sarcasm.

Maybe it’s not so much like looking in a mirror as it is looking at what he wishes he and his boyfriend could have been back then.

“And thanks for letting me interview you—” Ellie continues, setting the cup down but not before nodding at it, her eyes wide— “wow. You weren’t kidding about the joe, huh? Anyway— thanks for scheduling this. I know you’re probably super busy— and that there are more well established people you could have gone to.”

Steve sets his own mug down too— if he hadn’t there’s a possibility it would be more puddle than porcelain. “Well established means nothin’, kid. Not when you don’t have heart. They’re parasites, all of ‘em. The press couldn’t care less about me.”

Ellie nods, lifting the lid of her laptop. It’s a little bit dented and slathered in stickers, not quite the newest model— he would know, he has the newest one and it’s still sitting in his apartment in the box. Yet another testament to how little the people around him truly know him.

“Welcome to the twenty-first century, can I get you a side of classism with that commercialism?”

Now she sounds like Winnie too.

“Say, has anyone ever told you that you’re funny?”

She shrugs, tilting her head, a lopsided grin glued to her face. “Once or twice— I never know if they mean it or if they just want me to shut up. I never do so I guess we’ll never know.”

Steve sputters out another laugh because; “I guess we’re the same then— never give them a moment, kid. That’s the best advice I can give you.” He pauses— again— he supposes it’s going to be a day of pausing— he supposes it’s about time he pauses— before adding, “Bucky would’ve scolded me for saying that.”

Ellie’s fingers, swift and deft over the machine— Steve hadn’t even seen her begin to type— pause too as her smile softens. “What would he have said instead?”

Her question shouldn’t catch off guard— this is why he asked her to meet him; to finally, properly write his story— their story. Still he pauses— Steve’s empty hands feel hot, his shoulders warm; bare— what would he have said? It doesn’t take long to hear his boyfriend’s voice, not there but somehow loud in his ear all the same.

Just relax— they aren’t worth it. It’s too nice out to care about anything but the water— are you coming in or not? Summer doesn’t last forever, you know?

It’s impossible but Steve can feel the sun on his back and on his ears again, like he’s there— like he’s back, sixteen and on fire. Those were the days where everything made him cold. The days where his skin burned no matter the season but especially in August which was when the ocean was warm enough to swim in. It never stopped him from joining Buck— nothing could have stopped him. His cheeks warm, too, at the thought.

Steve blinks, his own smile— perhaps a little lopsided in it’s own right— shaping over his mouth. “He would have told you to relax— and to try the plum cobbler. It’s fantastic.”

With another giggle— and a reiterated comment— has anyone ever told you you’re funny, Steve?— they fall into a conversation, just a kid and a relic, about life. It’s not an easy conversation— but then again those kinds never are. It’s real, though, and unedited. Unfiltered. Just the way Erskine and Winnie and Bucky would have liked it— the only way Steve wants it. It’s not perfect but, hell, Steve has never been perfect.

He’s never wanted to be.

Maybe Steve doesn’t know everything his boyfriend would say— and maybe he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t blow up once or twice after today— but he can confidently say that he gave Brooklyn a run for her money— twice— and lived to tell the tale. He can say then when it mattered, he burned. That he still burns. That he will until he doesn’t— until he’s extinguished.

But, hey, though Summer doesn’t last forever, not even the Atlantic could extinguish the flame that is Steve Rogers.

That’s what he writes— in Sharpie— on the card he writes to Ellie— the one attached to the computer he knows he’ll never use.

[snelbz]

Light Up the Ice - 12

Summary: Aelin Galathynius has never really been into sports. Yes, she likes to keep in shape, and she works out, but watching people run up and down a field, trying to keep a leather ball away from each other? It’s always seemed a bit childish to her, and decidedly NOT a way for a grown adult to make a living.

Rowan Whitethorn has recently been drafted by the Terresen Staghorns, one of best teams in the EHL (Erilean Hockey League). And since he moved to Terresen from Wendlyn, it’s been hard for him to get more than 30 seconds alone from someone demanding a picture with him. Getting drafted straight out of college wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but he’s not complaining. Until he accidentally meets a girl. More specifically, until he accidentally meets his neighbor. She seems to have no idea who he is and for some reason, that’s refreshing. But will she still want to be with him once he shows her the truth?

Co-written with @tacmc​.

A/N: No tag list tonight. This is the 3rd time I've tried to post this chapter and every single time, it's crashed before I can post or save. AKA I’m about to punch my computer and don’t want to push my luck anymore. Next chapter, I will be copying and pasting my old tag list, deleting the inactive blogs, and adding those who have asked. Enjoy!

It never failed to amaze Aelin how slow business got when the university took their breaks. It was only the second day of the University of Terrasen’s fall break and she’d already had enough spare time to reorganize the stock room, deep clean the kitchen and now, she was sitting at a table in the corner, staring at a print out of her menu.

She chewed on the end of her pen and then drew a line through another item. In the four years she’d had the café, she’d never changed a single menu item. It wasn’t that anyone was complaining about her food, but she was bored with it and wanted to add some new variety. She scribbled some notes in the margin of new recipes she wanted to try to replace the old ones, but the sound of the bell above the door distracted her. She was beaming before she even got out of her chair.

“Hey,” she said, approaching Rowan and Lorcan, pressing a kiss to the cheek of the former and keeping her distance from the former. “How was practice?”

“Good. Save for the fact that I’m still sitting on the bench,” Rowan said, sighing. “Coach said I can be on the ice from now on, as long as I’m still not running drills and agree to see the trainer every day.”

“That’s great,” she said, smiling. “You hungry?”

“Yes, please,” he replied, a lopsided grin on his face.

She headed for the cash register Elide had been sitting at a few moments before. She was now working on rolling silverware father down the counter, quietly humming along to the music that played in the café. “You want the grilled cheese and tomato soup again?”

“Please,” he said, smiling. He turned to his friend and asked, “You want the Reuben, Lor?”

Lorcan didn’t reply. He was staring back towards the door.

Back towards Elide.

“Lorcan?” Rowan said, again, finally getting his teammates’ attention.

“Reuben, yeah, sounds great,” he mumbled, pulling out his wallet.

“Lunch is on me,” Aelin said, eyeing him, not liking the way he turned back to glance at Elide.

She didn’t like the way Elide was sneaking glances at him either.

As she walked behind the counter, Aelin cleared her throat, making Elide jump, her fingers dropping the silverware in which she held. It clattered against the counter.

“Care to give me a hand?” Aelin asked.

Elide blinked. “It’s just two sandwiches-.”

“If the bell rings, you can come back out,” Aelin said, taking Elide by the wrist and dragging her back toward the kitchen. She called back to Rowan and Lorcan, “Make yourselves comfortable!”

Once in the kitchen, Aelin dropped Elide’s wrist and began with the sandwiches. 

Elide watched her friend, her boss, skeptically. “Care to tell me what that was about?” 

“You were practically drooling over him,” Aelin said, raising an eyebrow as she looked at Elide.

Elide’s cheeks darkened and she hurried around to the other side of the kitchen to get Rowan’s soup. “I was not.”

“You definitely were,” Aelin replied, turning and dropping the grilled cheese on top of the griddle. She may have put more cheese on than she would have for a regular customer and melty, delicious goodness dripped out the surface of the cooktop.

Elide was standing in the alley of the kitchen, looking back through the serving window at Aelin. “And…? So what if I was? He’s hot.”

Aelin fought the urge to roll her eyes. “He’s a hockey player, El. Rowan has told me about how he spends his away games.”

Elide was quiet as she put the soup in the window to stay warm as Aelin finished their sandwiches. If her friend and boss’s back hadn’t been facing her, she probably wouldn’t have had the courage to say, “Wow, Ace, be careful. Your hypocrisy is showing.”

She whirled, pointing a spatula at Elide. “That’s a completely different situation and you know it.”

Elide lifted a brow. “Do I?”

Aelin’s lips thinned. “Yes, you do. At least, you should. Rowan and I… it’s different.” 

“If you would have known he was a hockey player, you would’ve never started seeing Rowan,” Elide went on, trying to hide both her frustration and amusement. “The fact that Lorcan plays hockey is all you can see when you look at him.”

Aelin scoffed. “Wrong. All I can see is his jackassery.”

“Jackassery?” 

“It’s a word,” Aelin snapped, flipping over the sandwich on the griddle. “And, again, Rowan has told me about his post game activities when they’re on the road.”

“It doesn’t make a difference, I don’t know why you’re even upset about it,” Elide muttered, coming around to the salad station and popping a cucumber slice in her mouth. “He’s Lorcan Salvaterre. He’s the captain of the team. He dates bikini models and actresses. I’m just a broke college student. I’m just…me.”

Aelin’s eyes softened as she turned to one of her oldest friends. “That’s not true, Elide. You are a phenomenal, beautiful, smart woman, and anyone who doesn’t see that is blind. Including yourself.”

Elide’s cheeks darkened, slightly, as she tried to fight the smile growing. “I’m going to go finish my silverware. Holler if you need me.”

Aelin nodded and watched as she pushed through the swinging door to the dining room. She finished up the sandwiches before grabbing Rowan’s soup and carrying them out front.

While she and Elide had been in the kitchen, Fenrys had appeared, a fast food bag open in front of him. She chuckled as she sat down Rowan and Lorcan’s food. “You know I would have cooked for you.”

His mouth was full of a massive bite of hamburger, so Lorcan answered for him. “He also knows coach would kick his ass if he knew he was eating that. Yet he does it anyway.”

“It’s so good,” Fenrys said, his mouth still full, his manners shot. “What coach doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Rowan snorted. “Tell yourself that when you feel like shit once the grease sets in.”

Lorcan stared at his sandwich for a long moment. Then, he mumbled, “Thank you.”

Aelin blinked. Even Rowan looked nearly surprised.

“Did you just thank me?” Aelin asked, perfectly still.

Lorcan didn’t say anything else as he bit into his sandwich. 

A few more people trickled in and Aelin got back to work, the shock of Lorcan’s almost-kindness still shocking her. The dinner rush, even though slower with the college campus dwindled, still kept her and Elide busy, and by the time eight rolled around, Aelin was ready to close up.

Rowan, Lorcan, and Fenrys remained at the corner table. 

Elide came out of the kitchen, having grabbed her purse and coat from Aelin’s office. “I’m gonna head home, if there’s nothing else you need me to do.”

Aelin shook her head. “Nope, you’re all set. Have a good night.”

“You, too,” Elide said, smiling, and Aelin noticed that her eyes slid to the table again, before she turned and was out the door, heading around the building to the small lot behind the café.

As she approached the table, Lorcan was standing and shrugging his jacket on. “Thanks for dinner. It was good.”

Aelin was still stunned by his niceties earlier that his words barely registered. “You’re welcome, I’m glad you liked it. I guess I’ll keep it on the menu.”

“You heading out, man?” Fenrys asked, finishing off the large plate of fries he’d ordered after his burger and first order of fries was gone.

“Yeah. Got some stuff I gotta take care of.” He said nothing else, but headed for the door.

Turning towards Rowan, Aelin tried to keep her expression in check as she realized that he, too, was heading for the back lot. Rowan, not fooled by her attempts, held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not getting involved.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t like it.”

“Like what?” Fenrys asked, and Aelin rolled her eyes as she took his plate and headed towards the kitchen.

“I’ve gotta lock up,” she called out over her shoulder. “I’ll see you at home. I love you.”

“Love you, too, sweet cheeks!” Fenrys called out.

Even through the swinging door, Aelin heard Rowan smack him on the back of the head.

****************

Rowan skated around the ice. 

He was bored shitless, not even in his hockey gear, but sweatpants and a hoodie. His hands were shoved into his pant pockets as he circled the rink, close to the sideboards. The constant blow of the whistle was the only thing keeping him awake.

He didn’t even bother asking if he could practice, even though he felt up to it. He already knew what the answer would be. 

And yet, he longed for practice to last. When it was over, he’d have to make his way into the locker room for Maeve.

And he was not prepared.

He’d felt her eyes on him since the moment he hit the ice, yet he hadn’t looked over at her once. Dorian was thankfully on the other end of the rink, so as he skated by at the beginning of practice, he was able to flag him down.

“Hey, man, how are you feeling?” Dorian asked, leaning on the half wall separating them.

“Much better, like it never happened,” he said, and the lie was barely there.

Dorian quirked an eyebrow and snorted. “Good try. You can’t practice today.”

“No, I get it, I understand that.” Roan cleared his throat. “But, uh, is there a different massage therapist I can see?”

Dorian blinked. “Did something happen with Maeve the other day? She didn’t mention anything-.”

“She’s my ex,” Rowan interrupted.

Dorian hesitated before nodding, slowly. “I see.”

“You can massage me,” Rowan said, quickly.

“As flattered as I am, I’m not a massage therapist,” Dorian chuckled. “I can talk to-.”

“No, don’t…tell anyone. If you don’t know of anyone, it’s fine,” Rowan said, the words rushing out of him. 

“Look, I don’t know Maeve very well,” Dorian began, shaking his head. “But, she seems perfectly fine, alright? Has it been a while since you’ve been together?”

Rowan gave him a curt nod.

“Then give her a chance to be civil,” Dorian said, shrugging. “If she’s disrespectful, let me know. Otherwise, I have no reason to think she won’t do her job appropriately, and if she doesn’t, then you can leave.”

He sighed, nodding, and skated off.

He spent the next two hours dreading every minute that passed.

He heard Brello’s whistle blow and slowly glided across the ice, coming to a stop next to his line.

“Everyone was looking good today,” he said, looking at them one by one. “Take it easy tonight. The boys from Eyllwe aren’t going to go easy on us tomorrow night, especially since we’ll be in their territory. I want all of you in your best form.” He gestured to Rowan. “Whitethorn will be back on the ice next week.”

There were cheers and hollers from the team and Rowan couldn’t help but smirk as Lorcan shoved him.

Brello, to everyone’s surprise, smirked as well. “Hope you’ve enjoyed your time off, but relaxation time is over. You ready to go?”

“Aye, coach,” he replied, nodding.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

After a couple more announcements from the coaching staff, everyone was skating towards the locker rooms of the practice facility and Rowan felt like his nerves were going to snap.

He took his time removing his skates and grabbing his bag, before slowly walking down the hall leading to the training rooms. He was silently praying Dorian would be in his office, right off to the side of the therapy room, but he wasn’t.

There was only one room with a light on, and with a deep breath, he approached and knocked on the half-open door. 

Maeve looked over her shoulder with a smile. “Come in, I’m ready for you.”

Rowan hesitated, but went in. Dorian was right. Maybe she had changed, maybe there was nothing to worry about.

Yet Rowan felt nauseous as he approached the blanket covered table.

“I’ll give you a minute to strip down and be back.” She left without another word, shutting the door behind her.

Rowan stared at the door before kicking off his shoes then lifting his shirt over his head. He only hesitated for a moment before kicking off his sweats and laying down on the table, pulling the blanket up to his waist.

A soft knock informed him of her approach, and he grunted to let her know he was ready.

When the door reopened, the lights suddenly dimmed and Rowan awkwardly shifted on the massage table.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. Rowan was grinding his teeth as she worked on the muscle in his lower back that kept spasming when she said, “I have to say, I was surprised to see you the other day. Dorian hadn’t told me who I would be working on, but…” She paused and chuckled quietly, running her hands up his back.

Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

When Rowan was drafted into the EHL, it had been a pretty big deal in his city, but more specifically, his university. He’d dropped out of school to accept the offer from the lower level team and climb his way to where he was. And everyone in Wendlyn knew.

There was no way Maeve didn’t know he was playing for Terrasen when she took the job.

He gave her a small nod and a quiet noise that said he was listening. She kept going, taking that as a sign he was interested in the conversation.

“I feel like it’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” she sighed. “Things ended so...abruptly. I’m glad to see your doing good.” Another chuckle. “Save for the injury, of course.”

It was so strange to hear another accent from Wendlyn that was still somewhat fresh. Lorcan, Gav and Fenrys, they’d been in Terrasen so long, the accent almost disappeared sometimes. But the lilt of her tone, the way she phrased certain words… It both soothed and unsettled Rowan.

“Don't you care to know how I’ve been?” She asked, her voice low. When Rowan didn’t reply, she continued on, anyway. “I’ve been pretty good. Got myself a little place in the city. A dog. Little chihuahua named Fiona.”

Rowan blinked. He was tempted to say that he hadn’t asked, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ve got some pretty wealthy clients, too,” she continued, continuing to work out that knot. “For the first time in ages, I’m secure, you know? Not just financially, just…secure.”

“Good to hear,” he replied, the words sounding more like a snarl through the pain, and she dug her knuckles into his back. The sound he made was halfway between a moan and a groan, he bit his lip to cut it off, but he noted the change in the way Maeve’s hands touched him.

Her touches became less like determined movements meant to heal and were more akin to petting, brushes along his side and a slow finger down his spine.

“And you?” She asked, pulling the blanket a bit lower on his back. He’d worn underwear for just that reason, not trusting her to not make an inappropriate move. “Are you living in Orynth?”

He cleared his throat and said, “Yep. Got an apartment down the road from the university.”

His answer was short and sweet. He wasn’t trying to invite more conversation.

“Not far from me then,” she replied, humming quietly.

Rowan’s shoulders tensed, but that just made her want to ease it away. His eyes closed and he remained quiet. 

“What about your personal life?” Maeve asked, at last.

Rowan didn’t answer, he just took a deep breath.

“Not trying to pry,” Maeve said, at last. “Just trying to make conversation.”

“I’m in pain,” he said, gently, the lie coming out easy. “Not really in a mood to make conversation.”

He could have sworn he felt the temperature in the room drop several degrees.

Her answer was curt. “Sorry.”

She stayed quiet for the rest of the massage, and when she finished, she told him to get redressed and left, heading back out into the main training facility.

He emerged a few moments later, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his silver hair. He was already heading for the door, giving her a nod of thanks, when she spoke up.

“Rowan, wait.”

He hated hearing his name on her lips. His steps slowed and he turned around to look at her.

She hesitated slightly, but said, “I was going to go get dinner in a little bit. It’s been a while, I didn’t know if maybe you-.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mae,” he sighed. The familiar nickname slipped out before he had time to stop it. It caught him off guard. “I- I gotta get home. I’ll see you later.”

Rowan had grabbed his bag and was out the door before she had time to say another word

****************

Aelin was at the stove, stirring a pot of homemade marinara sauce and humming quietly along with the radio when Rowan unlocked the door to her apartment and came in. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled at him before turning back to the cooktop. “Hey, you. How was practice?”

“My new massage therapist is my ex.”

The words came out in a rush and Rowan wasn’t even sure he consciously knew he had planned on saying them.

Aelin’s back stiffened and she set the wooden spoon on the trivet beside the stove. Silently, she turned and asked, “Your ex-girlfriend is giving you massages?”

Rowan closed his eyes and took a deep breath before nodding. “Before you say anything-.”

“Did this just start today?” she asked. Her tone held no judgement, only curiosity. However, there was a slight edge to her tone.

“She gave me the massage in my apartment-.”

Aelin held up a hand, and Rowan’s words instantly fell into silence.

Silence, where the room remained for far too long. “Aelin-.”

“Who is she?” Aelin asked, one brow raised. “I’ll kick her ass.”

“Her name is Maeve,” he said, making his way into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter. “She was my girlfriend in college. We dated for a couple of years, but… It didn’t end well. It became more about who I was in hockey, how I was playing, than it was about our relationship.”

“Maeve,” Aelin repeated, turning back to the stove. “Maeve, Maeve, Maeve… Hmm.”

Rowan was quiet, not exactly sure what to say.

“And you have to see her? You don’t have a choice?” She finally asked.

He shook his head. “Brello told me to get over my personal issues. I’m sure I can book a personal masseuse, but-.”

“No, your coach is right,” she sighed, stirring the pot, before putting the lid on and walking over to where Rowan stood. She wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him. “I don’t like it, but… that isn’t really my call to make.”

Rowan let out a relieved breath. “I know, it’s not mine either. Maybe you can give me massages here to help?” He smirked and, finally, Aelin’s beautiful smile returned.

“We’ll see,” she chuckled, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “Looks like I’ll just have to come to your games and make my presence known.”

“Make your presence known?” He crooned.

“I like to mark my territory,” Aelin breathed, her eyes bright. 

“And I’m your territory?” Rowan grinned.

“Whether you like it or not,” Aelin said, laughing softly. “Yes, you are.”

“Hmmm,” Rowan said, narrowing his eyes. “I can’t say that I don’t like that.”

He leaned down and kissed her one more time before asking, “So you aren’t mad?”

She stepped away, back to the stove, and said, “No, I’m not mad.” She paused and pulled a few spices from the cupboard. “Do I like it? Of course not, but there’s not much we can do about it.”

“Once I finish up this round of therapy, I won’t need it again,” he promised. “No more fights, no more getting slammed into the boards. I won’t have to see her anymore.”

Aelin laughed as she turned back to him. “You can’t make that promise, who’s to say what could happen?”

Rowan cringed. “That’s true. No more fighting though, I mean that.”

Aelin nodded, and he could tell she believed him.

He took a step closer and brushed her hair back. “You look beautiful.”

Aelin’s lips quirked as she said, “Trying to kiss my ass to get back on my good side?”

“Maybe,” he muttered, and kissed her forehead, softly. “Is it working?”

“Hmmm,” Aelin began, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Not yet, keep trying.”

Rowan’s grin widened as he leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers. “Now?”

Aelin sighed. “Getting there.”

“Only getting there, huh?” He breathed, his lips still brushing hers.

“I guess you’re going to have to step your game up,” Aelin cooed, slipping her hands down his back and into the waistband of his sweatpants.

Rowan’s grin was positively feline as he picked her up and carried her back into her bedroom.

Dinner was forgotten about for quite a while.

[stressisakiller]

I'm Glad it's You

Steve Rogers x reader soulmate AU

As you wish part 3

Summary: A difficult conversation and a whole lot of fluff

Warnings: none, couple of curse words, mentions brainwashing

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I finally got to this chapter!! I am so sorry it took so long life has been hectic. Hope yall like it!

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Blinking your eyes open you are surprised to see that you are still in the living room. You can't remember falling asleep last night. Then you feel the arm that's thrown over your stomach and the breath of the super soldier sleeping beside you. Right you think, Captain America is my soulmate and we fell asleep watching the princess bride. That was a sentence you never thought possible.

You carefully shuffle around for a better angle to see the man next to you. His mouth is slightly open and he had moved from mostly sitting up to lying on his side, one arm under your head the other around your waist. His hair is adorably messy, you wouldn't have thought that his hair could be anything but perfect. It is strangely endearing to see him like this, completely relaxed and looking slightly ruffled. 

Your gaze on his face seems to rouse him from his sleep, eyes slowly blinking open and taking in the world around him. He startles awake when he realizes how close you are and the fact that his arms are wrapped around you.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean..” He starts apologizing while trying to untangle himself from you.

You cut him off by snuggling closer to him, your voice is muffled by his chest as you speak. 

“Don’t you dare apologize, that was the best sleep I’ve had in ages, plus you’re my soulmate, I doubt cuddling on the couch all night will be the worst thing we do.” You look up to see a slight blush painting his cheeks at your words.

“I never said it was," he counters, still a little flustered, "but we only just figured this out last night and I didn’t want to assume anything.” He quickly gains his composure back, allowing himself to enjoy the feeling of you in his arms. That is until Tony walks in.. 

"Please no sex on the couch, it's a bitch to clean." He states loudly causing you to laugh at his antics. You force yourself to leave the warmth that is Steve's arms and walk over to Tony who is grabbing a cup of coffee.

“I’m still mad at you, you know, for not telling me earlier.” You state matter of factly. "All this time I thought I'd end up dying alone because of one of your experiments gone wrong, and it turns out that you knew who my soulmate is for months."

He looks at you for a moment, contemplating how to respond before softening and giving you a kiss on the forehead,

 “I’m sorry little Buttercup, I should have told you earlier and not just assumed that you already knew.” You smile at this softer side of Tony, the side that he usually only allows you to see. 

You pour yourself and Steve a cup of coffee, asking him how he likes it.

"A good amount of cream and a spoonful of sugar." He states looking a little sheepish. You smile at the fact that Captain America likes a little coffee with his creamer. 

You jump slightly when you feel his arms sliding around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. 

"Thank you, doll, that looks perfect." His voice is soft in your ear. You quickly realize Steve is an affectionate man that likes to cuddle and is quickly warming up to the fact that you enjoy it too. 

You lean back into his embrace, reveling the simple fact that you could. You found your soulmate and you were already head over heels for the man. 

Your mom always loved to cook and she taught you when you were young. So you decide to make up some pancakes and french toast for breakfast, after all, it isn't everyday that you find your other half.

Tony and Steve help set the table and everything while you cook. Steve askes if he can help but Tony knows that you enjoyed taking care of the cooking by yourself. That may partially come from the fact that, for the most part, Tony is a terrible cook and you don't want him anywhere near your food.

Once the table is set and you are well on your way to cooking breakfast, Steve and Tony sit down and start to talk. Steve, always the one to go straight to business, begins to ask about the girl he brought in the day before.

“She’s still unconscious, from the look of her she's been in some terrible fights, she has multiple gun wounds and some scars that look to be from some wicked knife wounds.” Tony answers, feeling a little bit of sympathy for the unconscious girl in the medical wing.

“Well all the same, I need to find out who so is and why she shot me.” Steve answers allowing a little bit of the exasperation he is feeling to slip into his words.

“She shot you?” Your voice is laced with worry and you walk up to him, placing the food in your hand on the table, “are you ok?” Your eyes search his body to see if you could find the wound he spoke of.

“Yes doll, she shot me. I had the bullet removed and the skin is almost completely healed." His voice is gentle, reassuring, letting you know that there is nothing for you to worry about. 

"Anyway, it was like she wasn't shooting to kill. It was like she aimed for the spot that would cause the least amount of damage." His entire face is scrunched up in confusion, before he shakes his head and continues. "But I must speak with her when she wakes. That is the only way we can find out for sure.”

“Well until then, let's eat and then maybe you can come up with me to my lab so I can make you that punching bag.” You say setting the last of the food onto the table and grabbing some orange juice.

“You weren’t kidding about that?” Steve's voice is incredulous, he really didn't think that you would actually make a punching bag for him.

“Of course I was serious, I never kid.” You can’t help the smile that slips through the serious look you are putting on.

The next two days pass with you and Seve spending as much time together as possible. You are quickly able to develop a punching bag for him and even develop a couple of smaller items to help make missions easier as well. You are surprised how happy it makes you to have Steve in the lab with you. You share stories of your childhood and are surprised by the similarities, especially when it comes to your health. He tells you about Brooklyn, and his friend Bucky. About trying to get drafted and the events that lead to him becoming Captain American. You enjoy how willing he is to share his life with you and how easy it is for you to return the favor. You are in the middle of telling him the story of how you met Tony when Jarvis comes over the speaker.

“Mr. Rogers, the woman you brought in has awoken.”

 

You look at each other before rushing down the halfway to the medical wing. Steve steps in first and you quietly follow him, not wanting to get in the way. 

“Oh good you’re awake,” Steve’s voice is harder than you had ever heard before, and you watch as the girl tenses up even more. 

“Now I get to ask you all of the questions that I’ve been waiting to ask you for the past 3 days.” You watch him pull a chair up and sit, his pose meant to intimidate. 

“Who are you? Why did you shoot me? What were you doing in that town and where did you get these?” You flinch slightly at the anger in his voice, glad that it isn’t currently directed at you. 

Steve is holding up a pair of dog tags, and you wonder what they have to do with anything. The girl seems to be reeling from the questions trying to decide how to answer. You are curious as to what she will have to say. Her voice is desperate when she finally speaks.

“My name is Alison, my father is Hydra and forced me to become one of their experiments, a soldier for them. I was planning on escaping but I never could, I couldn’t leave him there.” Leave him? Leave who you wonder, her voice grows more desperate when she speaks of him, he must be important to her. You focus back in on what she is saying. 

“I couldn’t leave him, not when I could do something to save him. I couldn’t leave him there all alone.” You can tell that she is close to tears as she speaks and that there is no lie in her words.

Steve balks, “Wait a minute, you’re Hydra.” He spits the words out at her causing you to look at him in confusion. 

“Not by choice.” Her voice is steel. She holds no love for her father or this Hydra organization.

Steve finally asks the question that is bugging you. “Alright then, who is this “he” you keep mentioning?” He leans back crossing his arms, waiting for her answer.

She stares at him for a moment, as if deciding whether she can trust him or not. She seems to come to a conclusion. Taking a deep breath she answers, 

“My soulmate, the soldier, the man on the dog tags, James Buchanan Barnes.” You can't help but gasp, James was Steve’s best friend, he had told you all about him the last couple of days. Your gaze immediately turns to Steve to see his reaction, his whole body has gone stiff, his eyes narrowed, teeth clenched.

“You’re lying. I watched him fall from the train, I watched him die! There is no way in hell he is your soulmate.” His anger is rolling off of him in waves.

 You however remain strangely calm after the initial shock of her words. What she said makes sense, after all a 95 year old super soldier who was assumed dead for 70 years is your soulmate. Who's to say that James didn’t survive the fall?

 You step up to Steve and softly place your hand on his shoulder.

The girl is still frantically trying to convince him, “I’m not lying! I swear! Hydra got to him. They made him into a weapon, they brainwashed him and put him on ice when they didn’t need him so that they could control him better. I swear, I’m not lying!" Her voice is practically hysterical at the end.

 Leaning in to Steve you murmur to him, 

“Steve, you survived an airplane crash and being frozen in a glacier for decades. Maybe she is telling the truth.” Your voice is soft, placating. 

He turns to you, the hardness of his face softening at the sincerity he can see in your eyes. 

“Fine,” he says turning back to the girl, Alison, “I can’t fully trust you and I can’t let you go, so you will have to live here in the tower, under surveillance. If you want us to trust you, you will have to prove yourself trustworthy.” Steve stands after this declaration, unlocking the cuffs on her wrists. You turn to her, 

“I’ll make sure that they have a room ready for you as soon as you are well enough to leave the hospital.” You give her a soft smile, heaven knows she needs it. You pause a second, alone in the room with her, Steve had walked swiftly out the door as soon as he had undone the cuffs. 

“I just have one last question,” she nods at you when you pause, “I know you shot Steve. But you missed anything important on purpose, didn’t you?"

She just gives you a secret smile and lays back against the pillow, but it is all you need to know the type of woman she is. You can tell already that you like this girl, and that it won’t take you long to trust her. Giving her one last look you step out the door, calling for Jarvis to make sure a room is ready for the new guest. You have a Steve to find. 

 

He is exactly where you expect him to be, punching the shit out of the punching bag you made him. 

“Hey Soldier.” You call to him, as you lean against the doorway. You watch as his body slouches at the sound of your voice, today was a lot.

“She said that Bucky is her soulmate,” his eyes are red as they catch yours, “what if he is alive and I could have saved him. All this time I thought that I watched him die and now there is this chance that he is alive. What if I abandoned him?” 

His voice breaks at the question, he looks so vulnerable. You step quickly towards him, keeping your movements light. When you reach him you take the hand that is hanging limply by his side and place it on your cheek.

“Hey, love, look at me.” His eyes slide up from the floor. “There was no way you could have known and nothing you could have done to help. If he is alive, I will be right there with you and we will do whatever it takes to get him back. He is your family, and that makes him mine, and we don’t leave family behind.” His eyes are full of tears as he leans his head against yours. 

The toll of the day, makes itself apparent in the slouch of his shoulders and the weight of his forehead. You slowly pull yourself out of the embrace, grasping his hand and pulling him with you.

“Come on, we both need sleep and there is no way in hell I’m letting you sleep by yourself after the day we just had.” He nods and follows your gentle pull to your room in the tower. 

Since you have lived here the longest you have one of the nicest rooms, save Tony of course. Entering the room you have Steve sit on the edge of the bed while you start up the shower for him. You place out a couple of towels out on the vanity and step back into your room. 

Steve hasn’t moved since you walked into the bathroom. You step up to him and gently place your hand on his cheek.

“Love, I have the shower running for you, everything is set out and I placed a clean pair of sweatpants and a shirt in there for you, they should fit. Go ahead and get cleaned up and then you can come lay down.”

He stares at you listlessly for a moment before nodding and moving to do exactly as you suggested. As he showers you change into your pjs, you would take your shower in the morning. You grab the book on your bedside table and allow yourself to get lost in the words for a moment. The sound of the shower turning off brings you back to reality, as Steve steps out of the bathroom in just the sweatpants. 

Your first thought is holy shit followed quickly by the thought that whoever decided that you would be the perfect soulmate for this specimen might have been mistaken . 

Steve is having a similar train of thought, looking at you in your too large shirt and messy bun, knowing that behind your beauty is a heart of gold. He can't believe his luck.

He walks to the other side of the bed, drying off his hair and throwing the towel in the hamper. Pausing for a moment at the empty side of the bed, searching your face for any trace of doubt. Instead all he sees is you smiling at him and gesturing for him to take his place beside you.

 Settling into the bed he is surprised when you lean over and place your head in his lap.

“I’m glad it’s you.” He smiles at the soft admission, thankful that he finally found you after all these years.

“I’m glad it’s you too, doll. For the longest time I thought I would never find you, I thought you may not even exist. But I did and you are even more amazing than I could have ever hoped for." He pauses for a moment deciding whether to say what's on his mind or not. He is hesitant as he starts to speak. 

"Thank you for today, for calming me when I needed it and for being there for me. Not many people have seen me cry, but I’m glad that you have and that you aren’t disappointed in me for not staying strong.” At his words you immediately sit up and stare him straight in the eyes.

“You listen here, Steve Rogers." You poke him in the chest as you speak. " I never want you to feel like you have to keep up appearances when you are around me. You may need to be strong for others but not for me. I am here for you, no matter what, and that especially includes the moments where you can no longer be strong. You better remember that, I will never judge you for the way you feel.” Taking in your intense stare, Steve feels warmth spreading through his body. Yes , he thinks, he is very glad that it's you. 

Smiling at you and nodding Steve grasps your arms and pulls you into his chest, savoring the feeling of your head resting over his heart. He can’t remember the last time he felt as content as he does in this moment. The world may feel like it's moments away from crashing down around him, but right now all he can think about is you. 

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