#I had a bit of an overdue emotional breakdown the other day

[tacosaysroar]

5

Did you know U.S. expats have to renounce citizenship to stop paying taxes? So if I moved out of the country on a work visa, I’d still pay taxes to the U.S.* for as long as I lived. That’s bonkers to me — and we should have WAY better public resources if all of our expats are still funding us. (Willfully ignoring you, enormous military force! I mean other resources, like education and social programs.)

I listened to a podcast recently all about feijoas and now I’m desperate to try one.

Work drama continues. HR has officially recommended my manager change my rating and several big wigs are now involved. I can’t believe how long it’s taking to resolve this.

My first content piece went to the PR agency yesterday. They always have edits, that’s part of the process — they went two rounds with the writer my nightmare manager loves (which he took like a cat being forced into a full bathtub) — but they loved my piece. ZERO edits. My work partner made sure to point that out to both the nightmare manager and the beloved writer (who treats me like this is my first job).

It would be nice to win them over, but at this point I’m just collecting a paper trail of accomplishments to present as evidence if the nightmare manager tries to give me another shitty review or get me fired. I’d love to leave and wash my hands of the whole thing, but I need to stay long enough for [redacted] to happen. So I have to make the best of it — while continuing to search for internal job openings.

Having plans in my calendar over the next several months to see NFA and my family — mostly in warm, sunny places — is doing wonders for my sanity.

*Eritrea and Myanmar also have this policy, and THAT’S IT. Every other country is like, “Bye! Enjoy not paying taxes on services you don’t use! Have a good life!”

[electricbluebutterflies]

Desperate hug for Joel and Tess??? Lovelovelove your work

PG-ish and also on ao3.

Joel doesn’t come home.

This in itself shouldn’t be a problem – a domestic arrangement is not an absolute, and Tess is a grown woman who is well aware that her partner can take care of himself and equally aware that they’ve never really had a talk about monogamy. With the lives they lead…

Honestly, screwing someone else is the least of evils here. Not something she’d be happy about, but better than the hundreds of other things that could go wrong, especially considering he wasn’t supposed to be doing anything questionable, especially-

If she overthinks this, she may finally have that breakdown she’s overdue for. So she doesn’t.

She doesn’t sleep well – too used to a warm body too close to her, dammit he’s gone and ruined her – but she does sleep, and she goes about her morning routines like everything is fine, and everything is not fine but she does not have the energy for that shit, and-

Objectively, this is the day she should go try to figure out what happened, but… it may be better to have no idea, if something tragic, to find out in bits and pieces from shared acquaintances over months and years, to-

Tess curls her fingertips around the table, realizing how unstable she is, how much she almost hopes something unfortunate has happened because otherwise something unfortunate is about to, how-

She hears the key in the lock, and she’s not sure it’s real, and she does not turn. If her mind has finally gone and broken, she’ll drag her feet into madness with the same stubbornness she’s done everything else. If on the other hand her partner has managed to crawl out of whatever hole he got into…

“Not…”

Still she does not move, still she does not give eye contact. Worried and pissed off is a fun emotional combo, and she’s not sure which will win, and-

“You could’ve been dead,” she hisses. Or worse, with someone else, but-

Petty jealousy is going to get her absolutely nowhere, but she’s never more territorial when she has that kind of risk, and-

She knows better. She still worries. If this is love, fuck it all.

“Got dark, wasn’t safe…”

“Like we’ve ever fuckin’ cared about safe.”

He clears the distance and gets his arms around her from behind, and she wants to wriggle out of the embrace but instead this is what it takes to make her turn around and cling. Make herself small like she isn’t, get close enough that she’s not totally sure they’re separate people, get her hands under his jacket and-

“You worry me,” she says like it’s the only thing that matters in the world. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

“You really think I-“

“Don’t try me right now. Not when you could’ve been-“

It’s clearly taking him a little while to figure out she was just as concerned about betrayal as common-law widowhood, and she’d be annoyed if she wasn’t so relieved and-

“Nothing happened. No reason to get your hands all over me and-“

“What about getting my hands all over you because I missed you?”

“Goddamn, leave you alone for one night…”

“One night I wasn’t planning on.”

He holds her that much closer, and she knows she’s not getting anything she might mistake for an apology, and-

Shit happens. She’ll let it go, eventually. Just not yet.

[iolitemoth]

Give us the sweet sweet OC lore !

(GUESS WHO FORGOT SHE HAD THIS IN HER DRAFTS)

Get ready for an infodump then because you are going to learn all about this woman if I can help it /lh

Okay so her name is Cloudberry and she’s a Sky Dragon Slayer who hails from the time of the first Dragon War/Dragon King Festival. She was training to be a healer and as such was very enthusiastic to learn Sky Magic, which has some incredible healing spells. She wasn’t involved in the war at all until one day her mentor comes crashing down at the edge of town, mortally wounded. Cloudberry (going by Azure at this time, her current name will come later), shocked and grieving, goes to inform the other members of the Nest/Flock her mentor belonged to of the news, only to arrive and find every last one of them slaughtered. She performs the funeral rites and staggers off into the unknown, lost for what to do now.

The details here are a bit fudged/hand-wavy because I’ve gone back and forth on the order they happened and what even happens at all and I’m still not entirely happy with it but at some point she joins up with/is found by Acnologia and his crew, before they all got power-hungry and started killing dragons for the fun of it (also I am. Not caught up with Fairy Tail canon so I could be very wrong about quite a lot of this but whatever). She tends to stay out of the fighting, mostly sticking to healing and doing what she can for the people who took her in. Everything is slowly weighing down on her, though- the war, her loss, Acno’s stance on fighting, the Dragons themselves, etc.

Eventually it all becomes too much and she snaps, getting into a fight with Acno + his gang and he ends up landing a near-crippling blow. She manages to escape and heal herself, though there’s still a nasty scar. It’s around this point that everything comes crashing down, and she is swallowed by anger and fear and pain and what feels like unending grief, which culminates in her losing control and becoming a dragon herself.

(Now, an important thing to note here is that while the canon explanation for becoming a dragon still holds true, that isn’t the only way. Extreme circumstances and/or emotion, like with Cloudberry, can cause it, as well as extreme uses of Dragon Slayer magic, as in pushing oneself so far past their limits that their body can’t handle it and reacts by giving them a body that can. Now obviously none of these are good for someone’s mental health.)

The next few centuries are a haze of fear and grief, most of which after the Dragon War are spent fleeing from the Black Dragon/Acnologia. One day Cloudberry finds herself flying through a terrible storm. When it clears, she finds herself over open ocean, no land in sight except for islands that could only barely fit a full-grown dragon with room to spare.

After a time, she realizes Acnologia won’t find her here, wherever she is, and lands on an (thankfully empty) island and promptly has a long-overdue breakdown- or, depending on how you look at it, the end of a centuries-long breakdown that has been a long time coming.

Exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally, her magic sort of... gives out? and returns her to her human form. She’s found by a group of people who heard the commotion and arrived just in time to see her transform and pass the hell out. They bring her back to their ship and straight to the infirmary, where she’s unconscious for about uhhh *checks notes* a week.

When she wakes up, she has no memory of who she is or where she came from- and, it’s quickly discovered, has no knowledge of the language they’re speaking.

As it turns out, she’s in an entirely different world- one of pirates and miles and miles of ocean.

Also as it turns out, the person whose ship she’s on is none other than Whitebeard and his fledgling crew (this is a little before Oden joins I believe).

They get along well enough and, despite offers to let her off on an island of her choice, she eventually decides to stay. She rediscovers her love for healing and hoards as much medical knowledge as she can (that’s the dragon instinct talking- it’s a headcanon of mine that Dragon Slayers also get the hoarding instinct, but it’s different for everyone- ex. Natsu and his house full of items from different jobs).

She uses her medical knowledge to choose a new name for herself- Cloudberry. Time passes and she is one of the chief medical (is officers the right word? i’m not sure) personnel on the crew. She and Whitebeard are as close as old friends, and she looks after the whole crew like family, especially the younger members. She calls Marco nestling; changing to fledgling as he grows older. The two of them are close and bully Whitebeard about his drinking habits and not listening to his doctors.

Cloudberry is one of the few people Ace trusts when he shows up, mostly because she never pushes him to join the crew and even offers to help him + his crew escape if they want it. He declines, but the offer is still there, up until he officially joins and she knows he won’t be going anywhere unless he chooses to. It means a lot, to Ace, knowing he had someone in his corner, someone who will always be there even with pushback from everyone around them.

(Cloudberry never does agree with Whitebeard’s recruiting methods. Many potential crewmates make their escape with her quiet aid, and are far away before anyone realizes what happened. People have their suspicions, but who’s going to say anything?? {I’m not sure if Whitebeard knows or not. I think he might be in the same boat (...pun not intended) in that he suspects it’s her, but isn’t going to let on.}

Those who decide to stay are hers, in a way that’s different than they are a part of the crew. They call her Auntie, or Aunt Cloudberry, and she won’t hear a bad word about it. It’s their choice. ...Of course, that just helps them love her more.)

*There’s a lot more to it than this but it’s already long enough so I’m just going to end it here haha*

[avatarofcuriousity]

OP... KINDLY AND RESPECTFULLY, WHAT THE FUCK.

OP... OP, THAT WAS AMAZING. THIS WAS SO GOOD!

BUT AT THE SAME FUCKING TIME... SOBBING, OP, THAT WAS SO AWFUL

I'M SO??? DISTRAUGHT??

FIRST OFF, DIA... Holy shit. I am. I am normal. I am so normal about this. (I'm not) Man's literally a golden retriever and he's always so, so happy and loveable, it's such a painful reminder to know that holy shit, this man has so much responsibility pushed onto him. Like dude. Him biting his hand not only being a literal but metaphorical symbol that he shuts down his deepest emotions away. No parents, him only relying on Barb which speaking OF.

BARB. THIS MAN. THIS MAN RIGHT HERE NEEDS SOME MUCH, MUCH OVERDUE VACATION TIME AND AFFECTION. Fuck me man, and the thing where just the very little things that show how down right exhausted this man is? The fork, delayed reactions, dude. Disassociating if I ever did fucking see it. Mans hanging on by a THREAD and it SHOWS. LIKE. STRANGLES BOTH DIA AND BARB "YOU NEED TO TAKE A CENTURY LONG VACATION."

And holyshitholyshit. Solomon. My boy, my love, my light, my baby, my darling, holy fucking shit you've been through a lot. He's been through. So much. Just on his own. And he's had to let go of so many people and just. Learn to live with that. It's so fucked. Lil bit of a funky prediction, but I wouldn't be surprised if one of the reasons he hyper focuses so much on magic and his work, is so it's a good distraction from letting his mind wonder to darker places.

When he begins to spiral, he spirals hard. I imagine it isn't the first time, but he must feel a huge wave of relief and love to have MC by his side. Who knows how many breakdowns like these he's had to go through before, alone. Solomon deeply understands how important MC is to him, so he's sure to remind them every day. He's been through this. And as much as he can really spiral about people from his past, he has MC, his MC right now, and that's all that matters to focus on.

Our sweet angel boy. Simeon. I will strangle every single person in the celestial realm if it meant you finally get the care you DESERVE. The poor boy having spent so long with becoming a person to help others and nothing else. Mm. How's that secret angst writing you do in your spare time king? Expectations after expectations have been put on him, he so badly NEEDS someone to be there for him! Our guardian angel needs his own guardian angel I swear. Honey, what do they do to you in that toxic realm--

And you just. Broke me finally with Luke. He's just a kid. I'm so. I'm okai. (I'm not. I'm really not.) The fact that it's so ingrained in him to not show weakness and deny he's a kid himself? Honey, what do they do to you in that toxic realm part 2. Luke, sweetie, you're doing great helping people, but you should be your main concern right now. I'm like. 🤏 Close to adopting him. My boy needs a healthy home life, not whatever is going on in the Celestial Realm, holy fuck, just look at poor Simeon.

Anyway. OP. I love you, you are so based for all of these and I ADORED reading every SINGLE detail!!! This is so-- I love? But at the same time? I hurt. I ache if you will. Thank you for reminding all of us that our beloved blorbos are so filled with trauma and bees.

The Nowdateables (+ Luke) Crying & How to Comfort Them

I felt like such a monster for writing Luke's lmao. I'm so sorry kiddo.

Trigger warnings below and in the tags, please let me know if I missed any.

Content warning: alcohol mention in Solomon's, self harm mention in Dia's and Barb's. None of them deal with their emotions in a healthy way.

Diavolo

I miss my dad

As acting ruler of the Devildom, and with so many people relying on him, Diavolo can’t exactly express his emotions freely.

That, and considering his upbringing, I’d be willing to bet he wasn’t allowed to cry growing up. No matter what, this man has his feelings under lock and key.

However, all that pressure has to go somewhere. This usually appears in the form of stress-crying.

Sometimes, when it’s late at night and the stacks of paperwork loom too high, he finds himself fighting tears. The tears usually win.

He keeps signing, though. He fills out form after form as the drops splatter on the desk below him. Barbatos pretends not to see the little warped patches of paper as he files documents.

Diavolo only really stops if he starts to fully weep. He wraps one arm around his body, using the other hand to muffle his cries. Hunched over his desk, he bites down on his fist. Anything to dampen the sound. Anything to distract him, because the sooner he stops, the sooner he can get back to work.

Regardless of Dia’s efforts, Barbatos hears everything. For the next few days, he gives him some much-needed space and tries to clear his schedule a little.

The only person that has seen him like this is Barbatos, whom he has known for millennia. If Diavolo cries in your presence, he is essentially giving himself to you; his body and spirit are yours, so treat them well.

How to comfort him: This man hasn’t been consoled in centuries. He appreciates closeness, so sit near him, or even in his lap if you're so inclined. He’ll wrap his arms around you and hold you like his life depends on it. Rub circles on his back, murmur sweet nothings, dry his tears. Tell him how proud of him you are. Please be tender with him, he’s so delicate.

Barbatos

Haha

Good fucking luck catching this guy crying

If Lucifer has his emotions on a tight leash, Barbatos has his in a cage.

Sometimes, though… sometimes he breaks down after a hard day.

He keeps his composure very well. Few are able to see the cracks, but they’re there if you look. A fork askew on the dining room table, delayed reactions in conversation, walking a little slower than usual… Things like these are telltale signs that Barbatos is at his limit.

He’s all smiles until he goes to bed. Barbatos often retires late, well after he’s ensured that everyone’s asleep.

After he’s accomplished all he’s set out to, he locks himself in his room. He presses his back to the wall and slides down, breathing shaky and barely contained. Hot tears start to flow, and loud sobs shake his very core. Barb curls in on himself, trying to be as small as possible. On particularly rough nights, he’ll pull his hair to distract himself from the torment.

How to comfort him: If you’re close enough to comfort him, you’re close enough to see his full self. He grips onto you desperately, nearly stretching the back of your shirt with how tightly he’s holding it. Throws his head into your shoulder and wraps himself around you completely. His demon form will come out, his tail binding your waist. Trace patterns on his back, and drag your fingers along his shoulder blades. Pepper soft kisses wherever you can reach, if you feel comfortable. Let him ride it out, and be tender with him afterwards. Devil knows he needs it.

Solomon

Solomon doesn’t cry that much. It’s not that he holds it in, he just doesn’t feel the need to.

For the most part, he’s usually in a state of general contentment. His emotions don’t sway too far one way or the other.

However, alcohol can get the better of him if he’s not careful. Solomon is at his most vulnerable when he’s drunk.

He gets into his own head. He thinks about all the people he swore to never forget, that are only blurs in his memory at most. All of the laughter and love he once shared, now lost to the sands of time. It’s not easy, being immortal.

He sits, slumped against the wall or the back of a chair, completely in his own little world. Teardrops gather at his chin, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

Once you snap him out of it, he smiles softly and sniffles.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you, MC?”

How to comfort him: Rarely one to rely on others, Solomon touches you as much as he needs. Sometimes it’s just holding hands while sitting next to you, others it’s a lean with his head on your shoulder. This mostly depends on how drunk he is. Rub circles onto his hand with your thumb, wrap an arm around him if he’s leaning and rub his shoulder, and listen to him ramble. He’ll thank you in the morning. In the months after this, he starts taking more photos with you.

Simeon

Simeon starts to cry before he has the chance to blink back his tears.

May try to excuse himself depending on the situation. Sometimes he can just brush them off and cry about it later, but others, it’s happening right now.

His desk is truly his safe space. Whether he’s frustrated with writing, or simply needs a comfy chair to cry in, that’s always where he goes. Cradling his head in his hands, Simeon watches his sorrows from a shallow pool on the lacquer beneath him.

He’s mostly sniffles and quiet, breathy sobs. If he’s not trying to hide, he allows himself to choke and gasp and really cry.

Ideally, he likes to wait until the wee hours of the morning. He locks the door and tries to muffle himself with his hand, to prevent disturbing others or being disturbed himself.

Simeon’s a tough case. He wants to let people in, but he feels uncomfortable being consoled. As an angel, it's been drilled into his head that his purpose is to make the lives of others easier. When he needs a helping hand, it feels like a burden. Deep down, he knows he can perform better if he accepts help, and that he deserves help, but he still tries to brush it off and help you with something.

The first time you’re there for him, he feels more love than he ever got from the realm above.

How to comfort him: Hug him, let him bury his head in the crook of your neck. Rub his back, kiss his shoulder, tell him it’s alright and that it’s all gonna be okay. He just wants to hear your voice, really— the best thing when he’s crying is for him to soak in your presence.

Luke

Luke is an empathetic crier. If anyone near him is upset, the waterworks start automatically (yes, this includes demons, though he’ll never admit it).

Has already adopted the belief that showing emotion is weakness, and therefore a burden. He sniffles and tries to hide it, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

That being said, he’s still a kid. He can’t hold it in as well as an adult, so there will be times where it all comes pouring out.

When he’s upset, Luke will cling to Simeon’s arm. This is usually the cue for Simeon to pull him aside to somewhere private and help him work through his feelings.

How to comfort him: Hold him, kiss his head, rub his back and rock with him. Let him be a kid for once. Let him know it’s okay. If you’re not comfortable with that or just not a fan of kids, give him a glass of water— it’ll rehydrate him and distract him enough to stop the crying.

[shimmershae]

In Season 10 alone, Daryl Dixon has willfully dropped all his other responsibilities as one of the communities’ leaders to go meet Carol’s docking boat like a sweetheart welcoming their other half back from war.  The joy on his face, lovelies.  My heart.

He basically ‘cleared his schedule’ to spend that same day alone with her, going out of his way to keep the smile on her face happy and bright.  Riding the bike together like old times.  Walking the woods under the guise of hunting just to *be* together. 

He’s teased her and laughed with her.  Talked about running away with her, just the two of them to New Mexico.  As much as he loves their family and friends?  If she really wanted to go?  He’d help pack their bags.  

He made her a bracelet right on the spot as a token of his immeasurable affection.  He’s kept her within his sights when she hasn’t been within reaching distance and she’s literally consumed his thoughts when she hasn’t been present.  

He told her he needed her to stay.  Daryl Dixon.  The man that lied to her about Glenn and Abe to spare her pain even though he wanted nothing more than her to come back to them all?  To him?  Spoke up about his wants and needs—her.  Near him. With him.  

He’s been there, by her side, always nearby ready to step in and save her from her grief.  That night time meeting at the border with Alpha?  He was right there.  

He’s played the part of the worried husband when she was injured, missed her while she recovered and kept to herself.  Fixed her a dinner tray with a flower that you just know the man went out and picked himself.  

Even though he and Ezekiel have had a little bit of a contentious relationship, Daryl has made it a point to try to bring the man onboard to help her in ways he feels he cannot.  Because he cares so very much for her and devalues his own value.   He’s had Carol’s back, even when he hasn’t fully agreed with her.  Remember the captive Whisperer and Father Gabriel?  

He’s been supportive and adorkably competitive with her then flustered in the face of her pointed questions about where his affections lie.  The look on his face when he told her “it’s not like that.  Not at all” had me wanting to shake my girl Carol.  

Because that was a look of such utter exasperation.  His eyes were practically screaming “because I love YOU, you blind idiot!” and he just cannot fathom why she’s not seeing what he feels is so obvious at this point. 

As if those heart eyes weren’t enough, he pocketed that double capper acorn as a good luck talisman right over his heart and basically ordered her to stay safe because he cannot deal with the thought of losing her.  

Poor guy pining over such a silly sweet symbol and thinking of her.

Then that crackling tension in that kitchen scene where he both confronts her and asks her again to keep herself out of harm’s way.  

Shadowing her in those darkened woods looking for the horde and saving her from triggering that trap.  Tenderly wiping her tears and telling her “We have a future.” 

Daryl Dixon sent every one of those people running after her in that cave, headlong into the unknown.  Several of their friends.  And Carol’s name was the first and only name he called when he joined them. 

Carol was the person he held onto just that second longer when she made it from one side of the pit to the other.  Carol was at the forefront of his consciousness and getting her out of there before her claustrophobia overwhelmed her.  

He had her follow his light.  Holy symbolism, Batman, but I digress.  Sure.  He wanted everybody safe and out of there.  But they were secondary to getting her safely out of there, so of course he noticed when she slipped away.  The emotion and tears in his eyes.  

His breakdown over feeling he wasn’t enough for her to keep her promise.  His asking her to let her vendetta wasn’t enough.  He was so broken and hurt but he could never hate her.  Because everything about this season screams how very much he loves her.  

Daryl Dixon did not flinch at nor question Negan’s comment.  He knows her that well and he’s past the point of denial even if he’s still balking at a full on confession.  He sat on that damn log all night.  Was there—yet again—to greet her when she came back.

These two are overdue a very real and honest no holds barred heart to heart.  The whole season, before it got unexpectedly derailed, was building toward it.  There’s been no development of other ‘ships.

There’s only been AK neatly and not so neatly tying up the final loose ends before they go into that heart to heart both sets of eyes finally forced open.  

Carol has consumed Daryl this season.  Oh, he’s been there for Lydia and played the part of Uncle Daryl.  He’s grown into a leader that Rick would be proud of and Merle might not recognize.  But Carol?  He hasn’t been able to shake her from his thoughts or his heart.  

Love during war time.  Isn’t that what AK said?  Know what she also said?  That Carol and Daryl and their relationship was at the heart of the season.  And the heart=love, yes?  

Now obviously I wear shipper goggles.  I’m not gonna deny it.  But something has to be there, right in front of my face, for me to even pay attention to it and give it any consideration.  And when 98% of Daryl Dixon’s time and attention has been tied to  and inextricably intertwined with Carol and little else?  I don’t need any damn glasses at all. Season 10 has been about AK shining a light on everything Carol and Daryl are to each other and pushing the reset button for those viewers that might have been sleeping on all the romantic potential they’ve had since the very beginning.

They’re the longer story she’s been referencing all along.  The endgame.  

I love two soulmates and one show runner.  

[bowsie22]

Pingxie Week 2021 Day 2

Summary: For a city with such a high rate of criminal activity, Wu Xie has always been safe. Now if only he could figure out why? Photography student Wu Xie/Triad leader Xiaoge

It was weird. Despite being open for eight months, Wushanju had never been robbed. The stores around it had all been robbed multiple times in that period. He’d never been attacked on the street, despite multiple robberies happening every day. Pangzi put it down to Wu Xie’s stupid luck, but Wu Xie thought it was weird. Anytime he was cornered, or a Triad member came into the shop for their protection money, there was always a moment. A moment where the men would stare at him like they knew him from somewhere and they’d run. Literally run from him like bats out of hell. It made no sense. And he knew it was a weird thing to be upset by, but he was.

Which led to now. Wu Xie, in a moment of stupidity, decided to go into the city at night to complete one of his final projects for a photography class. Sure, he had his own store/gallery/studio, but that was more due to his uncles making sure he could look after himself. And to a lesser extent, Pangzi. But he still had to finish college, no matter what Sanxing said. And after taking his two-year break, possibly due to an emotional and mental breakdown after the disappearance of the love of his life, Wu Xie was more determined than ever to ace his courses and make his uncles proud. And again, to a lesser extent, Pangzi.

Hence the moment of stupidity. While the city was beautiful at night, it was also dangerous. Especially for someone was still trying to get himself back to full health after the aforementioned disappearance. Not that Wu Xie couldn’t defend himself. He had learned something from Heiye and Pangzi.

So, he wasn’t too nervous about being followed by the two men creeping behind him. Honestly, they weren’t subtle. He wasn’t surprised by the bruising grip on his wrist, as the men pulled him into an alleyway, slamming him against the wall. Wu Xie groaned as his head bounced off the wall, attacker one holding him against the wall, attacker two standing in the mouth of the alleyway, cutting off any escape attempt.

“Ok, suppose my luck had to run out sooner or later.”

Pangzi always said that his sarcasm would hurt him. Never mentioned a mugger slapping him around the face though. Spitting out the blood, Wu Xie realised a second too late that he should have aimed away from the expensive looking shoes.

“You little bitch.”

A punch to the gut had Wu Xie gasping for air, the one to the back of his head had him on the ground and the following kicks to his stomach and chest had him spitting up more blood. Typical. The first time he gets robbed and he’s going to get murdered too. Attacker one grabbed his hair, forcing Wu Xie to his knees. That was a knife against his throat. Oh God, he was really going to die here.

“Whatever you’re doing, make it quick. Traffic is starting to pick up.”

At those words, a car drove past, Wu Xie wincing as the lights shone in his eyes.

“Shit!”

He was thrown to the ground, the two men backing away from him. Looking up, Wu Xie could make out the scales tattooed on their necks meaning that they were from the Zhang Clan. Shit, why were the Triad attacking him, he thought robbery was a bit beneath them? More concerning, why weren’t they doing anything anymore? The two were staring at him, wide eyed and pale. Wait a minute, why were they scared? They were the ones who attacked him!

“Shit, it’s him. We’re not meant to touch him. He’s going to kill us!”

“No, he’s going to torture us and kill us in the most painful way possible. The top of the list. The one person in this city, this country that you are not meant to touch and you chose him!”

“We were behind him! It’s not like we were given a picture of his ass! Look, don’t worry I know what to do.”

Wu Xie had a head injury. That was the only explanation for attacker one to slip a business card into his pocket and beg him to visit their boss and explain that this was all just some terrible mistake. What kind of self-respecting Triad member did that? Reaching for his phone, Wu Xie decided that it would be a tomorrow problem. Right now, he needed to contact Pangzi and make sure neither uncle heard about this.

“Are you serious? No!”

Pangzi swiped the card from his friend’s hand, glaring at the younger man.

“Like hell you are walking into a Triad building. To do what? Speak to the boss, demand reparations of some kind?”

“Of course not Pangzi. I just want to know what happened last night.”

“You didn’t hit your head that hard Tianzhen. You got attacked last night and had to be treated for bruised ribs, a sprained wrist and get stitches on that head wound.”

“I know all that. I meant after that.”

“After that you were concussed and probably imagining things!”

“So, I imagined that business card into reality?”

Groaning, Pangzi dropped the card in front of Wu Xie, recognising the stubborn pout on Wu Xie’s lips.

“There’s nothing I can say is there?”

“You can say that you’ll drive me there and wait outside like a good friend.”

“Damnit Wu Xie.”

Wu Xie was used to people staring at him. He was emotional, loud and the nephew to two of the wealthiest people in the city. But something was different about this. Normally people looked down at him, the rich boy who used his uncle’s money to open his own shop/studio. Or he was looked at like something to be used. Get into the Wu heir’s good books and you have an in with the brothers.

Here though, people looked afraid of him. Steeling himself, Wu Xie stepped away from the entrance, heading for the receptionist. Taking the card out of his pocket, Wu Xie pasted his biggest, friendliest smile on his lips and waited for the young man to hang up the phone. Considering he worked for the Triad, the man looked fairly unthreatening. Long hair, glasses, nice jaw bone, Wu Xie supposed he was attractive, if not a bit twinky. Hanging up, the man smiled nervously at him.

“Hello sir. The boss will see you now.”

“What?”

“Kan Jian here will show to you to the head office.”

Wu Xie was so distracted by the man’s blazer with the sleeves ripped off that he was standing in an elevator before he knew what was happening.

“I’m sorry, what the hell is going on?”

“Don’t worry sir, the boss will explain it all. Just two more floors aaaannd here we are!”

The elevator doors opened onto an office that even his uncle Erbai would be jealous of. A wall of windows looked over the city, there was a fully stocked bar against one wall, a couch beside it, while a large TV took up the majority of the wall opposite. Directly across from the elevator doors stood a large, wooden desk, mahogany if Wu Xie were to guess, these desks usually were. More importantly behind that desk sat the boss, the head of the Triad. And Wu Xie’s waste of an ex who had abandoned him two years ago.

“Xiaoge?”

His ex-boyfriend was the head of the Triad. And still, Wu Xie was annoyed to say, stupidly handsome, especially in an all-black three-piece suit. Wu Xie had always been weak for a man in suits, especially when it was Xiaoge.

“It always felt like you were hiding something from me. Never would have guessed this though.”

Accepting the drink from the other man, Wu Xie tried to ignore the eyes running over his body and the frown on Xiaoge’s face.

“Wait! You’re why I’ve never been robbed or attacked. Until now at least. Why?”

Xiaoge settled onto the couch beside the younger man, an odd look on his face. Wu Xie knew Xiaoge, knew that he always needed a minute or two to think over his words.

“It was the only way I could keep you safe. I always knew I’d have to take over. Zhang Rishan gave me a few years to be normal. I wasn’t expecting to meet you and fall in love. When I took over, I sent out a picture of you and informed everyone that touching you meant instant death. Clearly, not everyone understood.”

“This is why you had to leave, isn’t it?”

 “This life isn’t safe. If I involved you, you’d be in danger. I had to keep you safe Wu Xie. You were and still are the most important person to me. If you got hurt because of me, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Wasn’t that my decision to make!? Xiaoge, I was a mess after you left. I didn’t eat, I didn’t look after myself, I dropped out of university! You leaving ruined me. And now you tell me it was to protect me and you did it because you love me so much? What am I meant to say to that?”

“Tell me what to do. Wu Xie, please. I’ll do anything to make it up to you if you’ll let me.”

Wu Xie looked at his ex, mind racing. He knew what Xiaoge was expecting. That Wu Xie would give him some impossible task. But damnit, Wu Xie loved him. The last two years had been the most difficult of his life. Wu Xie had spent the entire time feeling like something was missing, searching for Xiaoge in every crowd, dreaming about him every night. Even just being in the same room as the other man made him feel better.

“Dinner. At the fanciest restaurant in town, tonight.”

Xiaoge looked at him, a small smile on his face, the one Pangzi always used to call his Wu Xie smile.

“Dinner, that’s it?”

“That’s it. And a very long, overdue conversation.”

“I can do that.”

“Good, see you tonight Xiaoge.”

Wu Xie turned to the elevator, making sure to add extra sway to his hips, aware that the older man was watching him. When the elevator doors closed behind him, Wu Xie realised that Pangzi was going to kill him for this.

Eh, worth it.

[takerfoxx]

Notes on Restless

A day overdue, but here it is! My thoughts on writing Restless.

Restless is, in many ways, the most important arc in the story, not because it is the most plot or character significant (though it definitely is very important to both), but because it was one of the first, if not the first story arc I planned out, and have been cooking up in the back of my mind and working toward ever since this story started. And, as indicated by the title, it is one big reference to the Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode Restless, which is my favorite episode and also featured all of the main characters trapped in their little dream worlds.

What can I say; I like dream sequences!

In fact, and I know I have mentioned this a few times already, but it bears repeating the first chapter of this arc was literally the very first scene I thought up for this story, back when I was still in post-episode 9 depression and wanted nothing more for Kyoko and Oktavia to reunite somewhere and be happy together (well, the story definitely gives us the former, but, um, not really the latter, because I am still a sadist). If memory serves, my original vision had the two of them and Mami relaxing in a fantasy-world hot spring that had a bunch of big crystals everywhere (because I like crystals), only for them to be interrupted by the sound of something moving nearby, and, upon inspection, they would find the doll version of Charlotte watching them.

Obviously that scenario’s gone through a lot of fine-tuning, especially when it comes to Charlotte. And the crystals got moved to the end of the story after the hot spring had been removed, but hey, they still made the final cut. Regardless, I did settle on a finalized version some years ago, and the final cut came out more-or-less exactly as I envisioned, down to Mami and Charlotte going off alone for some, ah, quality time.

The only new addition was Jerky’s little scene and the Sayaka/Oktavia flirting sequence, and, well, that happened. I honestly don’t know if I’m even allowed to say much about it without getting into trouble with someone, even though I wrote it, but let’s just say the time has come to finally kick things into high gear on that end.

Okay, so onto the dreams!

Kyoko’s dream was of course the one I came up with first, and yet ended up being the shortest. I guess it’s because while she’s white-hot mess of issues, she’s at least a straightforward white-hot mess of issues, and honestly, it came out more-or-less how I initially planned years ago, with very little addition.

Now, Mephisto gave us a pretty clear breakdown of what the individual girls’ dreams meant thematically when she started torturing them directly, but it bears repeating that Kyoko’s dream was mainly dealing with her poor reaction to loss (the concept, not the meme), specifically the loss of Sayaka to Oktavia, and her stubborn and yet misguided quest to bring Sayaka back at any cost.

We start with a perfect repeat of her dream from waaaaaaaay back from chapter five, when she was first waking up from being drugged. I was originally just going to begin with the continuation, but it had been so long since that chapter that I just copied and pasted the original dream so we can have it in its entirety, which included the all-important image of Sayaka dissolving into silver fishes.

From there it’s mainly Kyoko’s singleminded quest to find Sayaka at any cost. And from there, we see her think that she’s found her time after time, only to be disappointed, from thinking that Madoka was Sayaka (and it’s a shame that they never interacted more beyond that single episode, as they had a good dynamic), to nearly catching the silver-fish Sayaka only to have her torn away, to finally finding the fake fish-faced conductor Sayaka, further establishing her inability to accept Oktavia as not being Sayaka. The hole that her father left in her heart and how deeply she misses him even with what he did does come up, but she abandons catching him once Kyubey makes it clear that doing so is impossible, as well as showing that while she still loves her father, part of her still does not forgive him and she truly believes that he went to Hell.

Also, was that the first time I’ve had Kyubey show up and have original dialogue? Because it might be!

Mephisto’s first appearance has her occupying the same role that she would in everyone’s dreams, that of a surly gatekeeper. She’s a bouncer in Kyoko’s dream, a ticket-taker/ride operator in Sayaka’s, a hostess in Mami’s, and a receptionist in Charlotte’s. And in each one, she lets the dreamer pass while making it clear that doing so is probably a bad idea. Her design was a lot of fun, though there truly is no significance to her rainbow dreadlocks, punk-rock aesthetic, or denim outfit, other than I liked the way they looked. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

Annabelle Lee and the dockengauts have very short appearances in the nightclub, as despite all the pain they’ve put Kyoko through, she is still so singleminded in her pursuit that she considers them nothing more than obstacles to be overcome, which Annabelle Lee would probably be annoyed to hear.

As for Mami’s weird striptease, well, Kyoko is just now having to grapple with her own budding sexuality, and it stands to reason that Mami would have been an early crush for her. The “ending” though shows that while she’s more-or-less okay with Charlotte, she is still very aware of how Mami died.

Like Annabelle Lee, Elsa Maria would have the same role in everyone’s dream, the same role she had in Annabelle Lee’s feverish dream during the Help arc, that of the person who points the way to what the dreamer is seeking while still advising against it, which is always ignored. Though don’t read too much into her working with Mephisto in the end, as it’s not the real Elsa Maria and Mephisto is still the one in control.

And what better place for Kyoko, now Ophelia, to start her quest to find Sayaka for real than the same train station that she originally lost Sayaka in?

Anyway, while this chapter came out basically as originally envisioned, there are a couple things that I wish I had included, firstly a scene where Kyoko loses her necklace while being swept along by the current for Sayaka to find it later, and to have the sound of the crying child from the beginning to continue throughout the whole chapter, showing that she still hadn’t forgotten her quest to find her sister, as impossible as it might seem now.

Sayaka’s dream had largely to do with her and Oktavia’s issues with personal identity, and the dichotomy that Oktavia feels at all times, but translated through Sayaka’s eyes. In fact, bits and pieces of both their personalities are present through the circus (and given that Rumia’s dream took place in a circus in Imperfect Metamorphosis, it does just seem to be a recurring theme with me). The whole knight in shining armor for Sayaka is obvious, as is her sense of righteous justice as what Lily did. But her dynamics with the various characters that she comes across, her memories in general, her growing attraction to Kyoko, and her annoyance at being addressed incorrectly is all Oktavia.

It’s the two Kyoko encounters I want the highlight. The first at the shooting gallery shows that while Oktavia does love Kyoko, she is getting quite fed up with the constant nicknames in place of her actual name, while the second in the dunking tank shows her growing concern that Kyoko’s dogheaded persistence is only going to keep getting her hurt until there’s nothing left, as well as show her growing sexual attraction to Kyoko as she is progressively more stripped.

Mami and Charlotte’s brief appearance was in part to get them on the dream, and so show that that while Oktavia cares for them deeply, she’s not nearly as worried about them as she is Kyoko, hence why they’re here so briefly. Also, them pushing Ticky Nikki around in a stroller, aside from being Nikki’s only appearance this whole arc, was also a tip of the hat to the original Restless episode from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, as Giles’s dream had him and his girlfriend pushing a stroller around through a carnival in the middle of a graveyard.

The Freakshow was a mixture of the traumatic monsters both Sayaka and Oktavia had to encounter, from the various witch familiars and to Gertrud, the first witch Sayaka ever saw, to the witch form of Charlotte, who traumatized Sayaka deeply, to Brooklyn, who briefly showed up earlier and was sort of Oktavia’s nemesis in The Heist and targeted her specifically, which left a mark.

And that whole business with Annabelle Lee “pouring” Kyoko into the tank was to lean more into dream logic, where deeply personal fears tend to be translated through nonsensical imagery. I’ve had plenty of dreams where I’d “lose” a close friend or family member because they got turned into a jar of dried corn or something and I’d just be so devastated and obsessed with turning said corn back into my loved one, and it’d be very serious and emotional, and it wouldn’t be until I had woken up that I’d realize, “Dude, dried corn?” Plus, her guilt about stabbing Annabelle Lee was a reference to Sayaka’s own increasing guilt when she realized that she wasn’t the shining hero she had wanted to be.

The clown dance is pretty self-explanatory, in that Sayaka spent so much time killing witches and treating them like monsters only to become a witch herself. Plus, given how quick her downfall was, it serves to reason that she would think of herself as a clown. Plus, I just like Lily as a character, and wanted any excuse to use her as much as possible.

The whole bit with the train station acting as the loading gate for the roller-coaster is also fairly obvious. That’s where Sayaka became Oktavia, hence the cart turning into the wheelchair, or the coaster track leading into Oktavia’s barrier. I’m honestly not too thrilled about the coaster going through Genocide City, because while having it make an appearance makes sense, since it’s literally Oktavia’s first memory, but if I recall, I had the hardest time settling on a location for the rollercoaster to ride through before heading into the castle. I tried Freehaven, the outside of the high school, and returning to the circus itself before just settling with Genocide City, which honestly was chosen mainly because the deadline was coming up and I had to go with something. I guess it works though.

There really isn’t much to say about the reversed Kyoko/Oktavia fight, as it’s literally just a perspective flip of their final battle. Incredibly important and significant as it embodies the entirety of Sayaka’s aspect as the “Monster” of her dream and hammered in her connection to Kyoko? Absolutely. Has much that I can explain that isn’t literally sitting right on the surface? Nope.

We do get Mephisto basically spelling out Sayaka’s contradictory identity in her final days though, in which she was the valiant knight she always wanted to be, she was the damsel in distress that Madoka and Kyoko tried and failed to rescue, and she was the monster holding that damsel captive. No doubt that part was inspired by the meme of the Dragonborn princess paladin who was hired to rescue herself from herself.

From there, the “Monster” is slain, and the cute mermaid Oktavia von Seckendorff is born, the only time during her own dream that she makes a full appearance. She then is treated to a montage of Sayaka’s memories, but of course, they mean nothing to her.

However, I would like to point out what amounted to the payoff of a joke I had set up literally years ago. Readers of all my stuff might remember that way back in Rhapsody of Subconscious Desire, another story that took place in a dream world, Kaguya Houraisan was split into two identical copies of herself, called Head and Body, who encountered Oktavia swimming around in a large aquarium, who in turn shot them a rude gesture and swam off. Here, we finally see the inverse of that scene, which is why a couple of previously unseen twin girls showed up with no explanation.

Next is where the dreams start to converge. Oktavia finds Kyoko’s necklace (which, again, I wish I had included in Kyoko’s dream. Maybe in time I’ll go back and edit it in) and meets the silver fish’s from Kyoko’s dream, absorbing them and turning fully into the princess and, as a result, Sayaka Miki finally returns in full.

Funny thing about that.

At this point, I didn’t know how much the whole Sayaka thing would play out, and originally she would just be Oktavia in a dress. But after having Sayaka’s memories intrude again and again, I thought, “Huh, wouldn’t it be fun if she just became Sayaka again for a short time? Have a weird inverse of the Oktavia situation?” and went ahead and did it.

This choice led to…major consequences.

Mami’s dream is next, and despite being the one that I literally had planned out the least ahead of time, ended up being the most fun to write. Naturally, her dream dreams with her immense guilt over having been Kyubey’s poster girl for so long, helping him ensnare several innocent girls into his scheme as well as kill them off herself when they became witches. Also, it served as a little nod to Candeloro’s job as a baker in WN. Anyway, the whole thing was heavily influenced by Sweeney Todd, in that victims are misled into doing something they think is innocent, only for them to be gruesomely murdered and sent off to be turned into food.

The world of candles is just something I thought would be neat imagery, so infer from it what you wish. However, it is interesting to note that Mami is the only one to have a dream that features Annabelle Lee as the persistent antagonist that she is, showing up over and over to antagonize her. There wasn’t an intended reason for this, but come to think of it, with Kyoko focused on her endgame, Oktavia just wanting her friends to be safe, and Charlotte obsessed with what was lost, Mami would be the one most living in the nowness of their situation, convinced that she is finally in Hell for her sins.

In the restaurant, Mami is indirectly guilt-tripped by Shizuku for essentially abandoning all of her responsibilities to help Kyoko, and is then given a choice: abandon her quest and stay with her loved ones, or continue on with her “duty” despite all warning signs, thereby sealing her own destruction. Charlotte even goes so far as to beg her directly to not go on, but Mami refuses, saying over and over again that she is, “On the clock,” signifying how being a magical girl essentially took over her entire life after her parents’ death, and how full she threw herself into it to shield herself from her own loneliness.

And from then on, her fate is sealed.

While descending the long staircase, the father of Mami’s occasionally mentioned former crush Ryu Hagane shows up to chastise her for throwing her life way in making her contract, and then Mami’s actual love Charlotte shows up on the big TV to remind Mami of what she was now throwing away, and curiously, when she brings out the doll version of herself, it’s not to remind her of how Charlotte kill Mami (though the worms coming out of the doll’s mouth shows that Mami still hasn’t forgotten), but to remind her of how Mami had tried to kill Charlotte upon their first meeting, as her own guilt is more powerful than even the trauma from having her own head bitten off. Annabelle Lee emerges again, and in the process, the staircase is destroyed. Mami’s choice was made. There is going back.

Sure enough, when she enters the classroom, the marionette corpse of Kazuko Saotome (a reference to how she was killed and eaten in the Oriko timeline, in addition to just being very creepy) spells out to Mami’s face what an idiot she was for trusting Kyubey, how many lives she had ruined by doing so, finishing with Homura showing up to basically say, “I told you so.”

Annabelle Lee attacks again, and Mami is sent into a montage of battles she has fought since their disastrous adventure begun, but with each of her assailants being replaced at the last second by one of her friends, showing that even after forgiveness, she still feels like she’s their murderer, as well as driving home the point that in all of her battles to defend herself over the course of this story, she was still just fighting and hurting other magical girls, and regardless of which side they were on, they were all still victims of the same scam.

Annabelle Lee is finally defeated and put down, but there is no victory, only horror at what Mami had done. She flees, but finally finds herself in the Hell she always felt that she deserved, pursued by the zombified corpses of all the monsters that had defeated her, from Lily, who had stolen her mind and made her commit atrocities, to the wild girls, whom she had slaughtered, to the Worm, whom had killed her in her arrogance.

She escapes, but that just leads her back to the bakery, signifying that no matter what, the second she had made that contract she had been doomed. It didn’t matter if she was leaping through the sky in an extravagant outfit, effortlessly defeating monsters with her magic, or if she was sinking into her own despair with a darkening soul gem, it was all the same. She was just food for the Incubators, to be chewed up and discarded, thrown into the mouth of the Worm and run down by the same vehicle that had killed her parents.

She then wakes up in the hospital, reliving a twisted version of when she had been recovered from the car wreck that had taken her parents, taking her back to her first sin that still haunted her: only saving her own life with her wish and letting her parents die. And thus, she is turned into the same monster she had spent the last few years fighting: the witch, Candeloro.

The whole bit in the hospital was a twisted version of what it must have been like for the original Mami to wake up in the hospital and learn that her parents had died. No doubt Mephisto’s dream doctors would have continued to further twist the knife had Ophelia and Sayaka not violently intervened (which gives us a rare case of blood instead of mist). And Candeloro is brought into the party, and with a Cyberpunk reference no less!

Charlotte’s dream comes last, and in my opinion, is the most multi-layered. The bulk is focused on how bitter she is at having her perfect life with her wife stolen away and how many people she resents for it, her own feelings of helplessness at being unable to prevent it, and also it addresses her own guilt at having killed Mami to begin with and how much she fears the return of the Worm that did it, but also she seems to be the only person that has some subconscious awareness of how Homura is timelooping them over and over again, forcing them to relive the same torturous sequence of events (probably has something to do with Homura being the one who killed her after she ate Mami).

In the first loop, Mami is taken by Annabelle Lee, and Charlotte is totally helpless to stop her. This is pretty obvious: Annabelle Lee has been a thorn in her side since day one. It was because of her that they were ambushed in Cloudbreak and forced into their horrible adventure. And more directly, it was because of Annabelle Lee that they fell into the Etherdale to begin with, leading to them all being enslaved by Lily and Charlotte and Mami being forced to commit atrocities.

Also, it’s hinted that the city that Charlotte is forced to march through is the same one Kyoko had been following her father through in her dream, indicating that their minds are already crossing over.

The second is a little more complicated. Yes, Charlotte and Kyoko are on better terms. Yes, they’re getting along. Yes, Kyoko apologized and they bonded. But if it weren’t for Kyoko, then none of this would have ever happened. If it weren’t for Kyoko, Charlotte wouldn’t have lost her home, wouldn’t have been targeted by Reibey, and wouldn’t have to suffer being pursued by dockengauts and valks, two creatures that she has an acute phobia of. So there is still some hard feelings there.

The third is when Charlotte is forced to confront something about herself, that no matter how many people she blames, her own actions still played a part as well. Now she is the one riding the Worm. She is the one who cost Mami her life. And in the hospital, it was her misguided wish that cost her her mother, whether she knows it or not, as well as why she became a witch in the first place.

Couple notes about the hospital: first, the cheese slices do signify how Charlotte threw her wish away for something as stupid as cheesecake, but are also another reference to the original Restless, in which a man carrying cheese slices shows up in each of the characters dreams, just to be weird.

Also, Charlotte’s magical girl outfit was in part inspired by a 4koma MamiLotte doujin from before The Rebellion Story, in which Charlotte becomes human again and crushes on Mami big time. And her outfit consists of a double-breasted coat and skirt. Also there were parts taken from the character notes from Walpurgisnacht, in which one of her familiars is an early draft of Human!Charlotte, before Nagisa had been designed, and she’s depicted holding a staff topped with the wrapped candy charm.

The final loop is where Charlotte fully becomes Nozomi (a name I think I just took from another fanfic that gave her that name) and finally defeats the Worm, this time ridden by Homura Akemi. After all, Homura Akemi is the one resetting things over and over again, forcing Charlotte to relive the same terrible events over and over. And as for that rooftop meeting…well, explaining that would be telling, so infer what you will.

The next chapter is mainly spent playing catch-up, gathering all the characters together and pushing toward the final battle with Mephisto. Here, things get less symbolic and more character based, so there’s a lot less to explain. Ophelia’s path of destruction through Sayaka’s carnival and Mami’s school are basically in line with lucid dreaming, in that once you know that you’re in a dream, everything just feels so much less solid, leading Ophelia to take down the ravaged versions of Brooklyn and Annabelle Lee with ease. Also, that scene with her talking to the dying Lily was an American Gods reference, which featured a similar scene.

So let’s talk about the big thing with this chapter. Let’s talk about Sayaka.

Originally the plan was to go straight from Charlotte’s dream to the fight with Mephisto, but then I realized what a bad idea that is. I mean, Sayaka was back! It’s something that’s been hinted and talked about all through the story’s run, but now it’s actually a thing. The original Sayaka Miki, the one that fell into despair and became a witch, is now back, and without having merged with Oktavia and gaining her memories. She’s thrown literally into the middle of things, during the gang’s weirdest adventure yet. And, it should be noted, her most recent memory is literally sitting with Kyoko in the train station, right before she became Oktavia. That is one hell of a bad day.

Obviously she reacts poorly, and who can blame her? And give her credit, she pulled herself together pretty quickly. However, she did pick up very quickly on Kyoko’s feelings for her. And why shouldn’t we just start saying it? It’s obvious to everyone! But obviously, as short as it was, Sayaka’s brief return will have major consequences that will play out over time.

Anyway, obviously everyone else has their own identity crisis. Mami turns fully into Candeloro, which provides a measure of relief from her own shame, while Kyoko as Ophelia is the rare witch that remembers everything while still sticking fully to her witch identity.

As for Charlotte, her case as Charzomi is easily the weirdest, with her constantly shifting back and forth between Charlotte and Nozomi, and her own memories fading in and out, forcing her to work extra hard to stay focused. It’s been suggested that this might serve as a metaphor for gender fluidity, and while this wasn’t the intention and thus I can’t speak to its accuracy, I can see and support the applicability. Still haven’t worked out what the long-term consequences of that will be, but I do want this to play into her future character development.

The walk up the tongue was mainly me realizing that the fighting was going to start soon, and Sayaka was going away right after, so I had one last opportunity to make the most out of her presence and I was determined not to waste it.

So we ticked off the boxes on everything we ought to address with her. She cleared the air with Charlotte over having to watch Mami get eaten. She finally got to hug Mami (well, Candeloro anyway) and got everything she wanted to say off her chest. And with Ophelia, she naturally wants to know more about exactly what Kyoko has been getting up to with Sayaka’s other self.

Sayaka again confronts Ophelia about how she feels about her (or, well, Oktavia, or maybe Sayaka? It’s weird), and naturally she is kind of freaked out by it. Remember, from her point of view, her relationship with Kyoko had been nothing but antagonistic. Whether Kyoko had been attacking her or trying to help her, Sayaka always resented her presence, so now suddenly being dropped into the middle of things and learning that her one-time rival now has a thing for her? Well, can you blame her for getting a little freaked out?

Also, it’s worth pointing out how the script had been flipped with everyone’s new identities. Now it’s Ophelia and Candeloro with the witch names, while Sayaka still thinks of them using their old names, causing them discomfort, but she has no problem calling Charzomi whatever because they had just met and she didn’t care.

And then we get to the fight, and of course it has to be a pro wrestling match. I’d also like to point out that there were a lot of songs I wanted to use for this chapter but was unsure of where to put each one. Originally the climb up the tongue was just going to have generic thrash metal playing the background, while Mephisto’s entrance theme was going to start with Mr. Sandman, only to transition into Bad Reputation (which is Ronda Rousey’s RL entrance theme), but then I was like, I should put Welcome to My Nightmare in there somewhere. And then I remembered that Cult of Personality is a thing, which is also CM Punk’s entrance theme, so I finally decided to move the first three songs to the tongue scene and have CoP as Mephisto’s entrance music.

And finally, we come to the last chapter. The magical girl fight scene was another one of those checklist things I wanted to have so long as I had Sayaka around. That way, I could actually build some real KyoSaya moments to make the KyoTavi angst all the more potent, as Sayaka realizes that she is developing an attraction to Kyoko as they fight side-by-side, letting me recreate that magical little moment from The Rebellion Story in which Sayaka basically confesses in the middle of the battle, complete with Charlotte ruining the mood.

I’ll admit, I kind of skimped out on Mephisto’s witch design and didn’t give it as much thought as I could have, but that part was never important. The important part was to recreate a classic witch fight and let the girls interact during it. I am proud of the Charlotte’s Web joke though.

What happens next is to establish that it doesn’t matter how hard they fight or how smart they are, they simply cannot beat Mephisto now. She’s taken complete control, enough to flick them through their various personas on a whim turning them into Puella Magi, then to human!witches (basically the Walpurgis Nights girls), then to full witches, then to the classic squad from the bulk of the story (bringing Oktavia back briefly), then to vanilla humans. It doesn’t matter. Mephisto has them, and can do whatever she wants.

From there, she separates them again and subjects them to a condensed version of their previous dreams, with the same themes but different imagery. Kyoko is subjected to a sermon about her poor responses to loss from her dead father, as he really lays into her over how much damage she had done. And I gotta admit, even I felt pretty bad just for writing that scene. Because I know torturing Kyoko is kind of this story’s MO, but damn.

Sayaka is a little more nuanced. Yes, the identity issues from her own dream are brought up, but it’s more focused on a new issues: mainly, now that Sayaka is back, she not only has to grapple with all the weirdness that she’s been thrust into, but also with essentially having been replaced. We see the vision of her friends getting along happily without her, the friends she had pushed away and alienated having moved on without her, Madoka basically having replaced her entirely with Homura. Of course this is not reflected in reality, as by this point in the world of the living they probably haven’t even found Sayaka’s body yet due to the time difference, but it is definitely that Sayaka would easily believe.

The next part is basically the whole reason for bringing Sayaka back in this manner. Mephisto then shows Sayaka a real memory that of Oktavia spending time with Kyoko, Mami, and Charlotte and being loved and accepted by them.

Sayaka’s character arc in the original series was driven by her letting her insecurities cause her to overcompensate and destroy herself, and Oktavia has largely been characterized as what Sayaka would be like if she didn’t have those insecurities. Sure, she’s had the shadow of the original Sayaka hanging over her, but for the most part this hasn’t seemed to bother her much, aside from getting annoyed at being called the wrong name, but it’s been taken for granted that sooner or later being thought of as Sayaka instead of herself by Kyoko was going to come to a head.

But here we have one of those happy unplanned gold veins, something I hadn’t planned on doing but am thrilled gets to happen now: we have Sayaka being forced to come to terms with living in Oktavia’s shadow.

Yes, they’re the same person. Yes, Oktavia is just Sayaka with her memory wiped and many of her self-destructive issues cleared away. But as WN demonstrated, it’s not as clear cut as that, and there is still some degree of separation between the two. And the infamously self-loathing Sayaka would most certainly be messed up by being confronted by a version of herself that people like and enjoy being around, that doesn’t feel the need to prove anything. And this is coming right off the heels of her realizing that she might have feelings for Kyoko after all (even if that is in part because of her empathetic connection to Oktavia), only to have it thrown in her face that it was Oktavia that Kyoko really loved, when she herself never did anything other than push Kyoko away. Granted, she had good reason for doing so, given that the first thing Kyoko did was try to kill her, but the point stands.

The Kyoko/Oktavia dynamic has always been messy due to Sayaka’s constant presence, but I kind of feel that that was unfair to Sayaka herself, as she deserves better than just being a memory, and I wanted her to have an actual voice in the whole deal, to be able to express her own feelings about it, even if it does complicate an already incredibly complicated situation.

Anyway, the next bit is pretty self-explanatory, with Mephisto further twisting the knife by replaying Sayaka’s last conversation with Madoka and really driving home what a wreck Sayaka had been at the time. Remember, from Sayaka’s point of view, that whole moment was only a few hours ago, at most!

Mami’s was very interesting, because the whole trial bit is self-explanatory, but it’s actually a reference to the bizarre trial that made up the final episode of the classic mindscrew TV show The Prisoner, which featured a jury wearing masks, the plaintiff sitting on an ornate chair on a raised platform, witnesses being pulled out of steam-filled holes, and an extended singalong of Dry Bones. Granted, I mainly knew about it because Reboot, one of my favorite shows, also referenced it in a dream episode of their own, but I liked that episode, and wanted to rip it off.

For the witnesses, we first get the expected faces from the show itself, but we also get a few new ones. Brooke Alexander was already named once before when Mami was reflecting on the various girls she had trained, Janice Goldberg was made up specifically for this scene, but we also get Michiru Kazusa, from the really weird spin-off manga Kazumi Magica, who was established as having a past with Mami. Kazumi Magica had its problems, but I did like a lot of the characters (i.e. The Twins), so this seemed like a good time to bring in another one.

Charlotte’s dream is the most straightforward, as it’s basically just her first dream condensed into a claw machine. What I wanted to put focus on was that Charlotte is the one character that knows who Mephisto is, as her role as the team scholar who does the most reading, she would actually have heard of the Ideal Witches, and thus would really understand just how much trouble they were all in.

And at the end of each segment, Mephisto gives each of them the same offer: submit willingly and be given a pleasant fantasy while Mephisto digests their souls, or continue to resist and get digested anyway, only in eternal torment. And her offer would give them each what they wanted the most. Kyoko wants her loved ones back, Sayaka wants to be loved and appreciated, Mami wants forgiveness, and Charlotte just wants to go home. And in light of what they were facing, can any of them be blamed for wanting to take Mephisto up on her offer?

Enter Jerky.

Jerky was a ton of fun to write for, and judging by the overwhelming positive response to his segments, bringing in the baby space raptor was a good idea. Like I’ve said before, his bits were one big love letter to Raptor Red, a novel by paleontologist Robert Bakker which tells of the life and times of a female Utahraptor from the Utahraptor’s point of view. And the nice thing about Jerky is that he’s smart enough to know the does and don’ts, but simple enough to be uncomplicated. He’s an animal. An exceptionally smart animal, but still an animal. He knows that he loves Kyoko and is loyal to her, he’s been made to understand that he can’t let Charlotte, Mami, and Oktavia see him, and he knows that Kyoko’s skin is softer than his and he needs to be careful, but beyond that he couldn’t care less of their various issues. It’s refreshingly simple.

As such, when confronted with a complete inexplicable threat such as Mephisto, something well beyond his ability to comprehend, he’s worried, he’s scared, he doesn’t know what to do, so he defaults to his predatory instincts.

When in doubt, start biting.

And it does the trick, because something that needs to be said is that while the Ideal Witches are powerful, they’re not omnipotent. Mephisto needed to lure the girls in and submerge them fully in her dream in order to control them the way that she did, but in the real world, she was vulnerable once she had manifested fully, allowing Kyoko to break free long enough to fire the final shot.

In the end, everyone escapes, but not unscathed. Kyoko especially had been scarred even further, in part from the dream of her father, but also from having to watch Sayaka basically die again, leading to her reaching what very well might be her breaking point. Mami’s slipping deeper into depression, having been forced to once again confront all the damage she unwittingly did as a magical girl, Charlotte is fully fed up with everything that had happened to them. And Oktavia? Well, now that it’s been shown that Sayaka Miki can and has come back, suddenly her own identity issues are going to become worse. She’s really going to have to grapple with Sayaka being an actual person with a legitimate claim to her body, especially since when Sayaka came back, she effectively traded places with Oktavia instead of merging with her. That’s gotta be scary.

At the very least, Kyoko did not reject Oktavia. In some way, she does understand that Oktavia is her own person, and she’s coming to respect that. But there are some deep wounds having to do with Oktavia’s creation, and they’re both going to have to come to terms with a great many things in the days to come.

And at the very end, it’s shown that Mephisto is weakened but still alive, and she’s pissed! We also learn that one of the girls did accept Mephisto’s offer before she was defeated, so that’s definitely going to come up later. And we meet the rest of the Ideal Witches. Obviously there is more to come with them, so I will say nothing further.

Anyway, I guess that’s it. Feel free to message me if you want anything explained further, or just make your own interpretations. Either is fine.

[lady-of-lies]

My friend Bilbo

A/N: so, here we have this week’s prompt!! the same day as the prompt dropped no less. When reading bear in mind that this is my first ever Bilbo fic so it’s not as much in character as I’d hoped, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Oh! I almost forgot... This was a sort of request by the lovely @sdavid09 herself!

Prompt: "I can't prove anything, but I would have thought our friendship would have awarded me the courtesy of trust"

Word count: 1428 (WHAT!?)

Warnings: Bad descriptions of a mental breakdown but other than that, none

Bilbo Baggins x Platonic!reader

Air. You needed air. Breathing had become a luxury after you had finally been able to fall with a tree against your back as the only thing softening the blow. The rough wooden surface scratched on your back as you slowly slipped down to the cold hard ground. It felt like the trees came closing in on you and when your vision went blurry you gave up. This emotional outburst had been long overdue, and better now than later in the in the evening when you were sure to be surrounded by members of the company, some, if not all of them. Weak was certainly something you didn’t want to be seen as. You especially didn’t want your new found friend, master Bilbo Baggins, the company’s official burglar, to think you were something even remotely close to weak.

Day after day, night after night, you and Bilbo had stuck together, you had a lot in common after all. You were both fond of anything related to the art of the written word, comfort and heavenly baked goods. You also had a unified opinion regarding the transportation with which you were currently traveling, uncomfortable, foul-smelling and absolutely unnecessary. You had never really liked horses, you had never really not liked them either, you were just somewhere in between the two, but when it came down to long distance traveling you would have preferred something with a little bit more back support.

The memories of your and Bilbo’s earlier conversations flooded your mind in a steady stream, as soon as one memory ended another began, never giving your mind the peace and quiet it probably needed if you were to calm down anytime soon. At least the trees had seemingly come to a halt. Progress, you thought. Even though your breathing was ragged, laboured and uneven, your chest felt much lighter than it had before. Maybe the sensitive Ori was right. Sometimes you need to give your mind a rest from the constant pressure. Sometimes what you really needed were a good old fashioned cry. Let the mask slip off and just for a moment be free of all the mind’s burdens.

The Bilbo that you had met today had not been your Bilbo. He had been standoffish and rude, not at all the considerate and shy little hobbit you were used to. You knew there were people out there, people who wanted nothing more to have all the fortunes in the world, you had met some of those people before, but your Bilbo weren’t one of them. Yet, earlier today, that is exactly how he had come off. Like nothing mattered to him more than that stupid ring he had found in goblin town. When he came out of that tunnel he had changed, and not at all for the better.

You didn’t know for how long you had been sitting there, but the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon a while ago leaving you in the dark. It was probably for the better, you didn’t need a mirror to know that you looked like a mess right now and that wasn’t a sight you wished upon anyone. But maybe, just maybe, was it time to go back to camp. There was only one problem. Bilbo. You would rather live in an old spiders nest in the forests surrounding Mirkwood than seeing him again so soon. Even if he was your best friend you weren’t ready to forgive him just yet. 

It was foolish. You couldn’t even remember what had started the fight resulting with your fast departure in the first place. All you remembered were that he had hurt you. Not physically, of course, he was still way too kind for that to happen, no, he had hurt your feelings. All he seemed to care about was that stupid ring. Something had to be wrong with it if he refused to let it out of his site for more than a second, he didn’t even let me look at it, not once.

Friendship, like any other kind of relationship it is built on trust and compromises, and normally that wouldn’t have been a problem. What does one do when the person you consider your closest friend and ally continuously sends out messages that he doesn’t trust you? That’s right, you don’t do anything. If the person can’t trust you there’s nothing you can do about it, it lies within them and changing that would be a feat bigger than all of Middle earth Combined. 

On your way back to the company you allowed your thoughts to flow freely and your body to relax. You felt the wind dancing with your hair and the forest ground beneath your shoe clad feet twisting and turning with a little help from roots and stones that had been there for longer than any other being. If only trees could talk, you thought. Think of all the stories they could tell. But it was probably for the better that they weren’t able to, what if they unveiled the world’s biggest secrets? things meant to be long forgotten? 

Your train of thought came to an abrupt halt when you suddenly came eye to eye with a very anxious looking hobbit. His signature red velvet coat was coated with mud and god-knows-what after only a few months of traveling and his hair had grown. Actually, when you took a closer look, it was like he had tried to tear the hair off of his head. The light brown locks were a tangled mess. Like he hadn’t brushed his hair at all the past few days.

“There you are! I’ve worried about you”

How did he do that? switch between the old Bilbo, your Bilbo, and the new odd Bilbo? Standing before you now it was like nothing ever happened. No fight, and no ring. You stood in silence for a moment. What were you supposed to say? sorry, I just had a mental breakdown in the forest. No. Instead you opted for a more innocent approach. If he wanted to act like nothing was wrong then fine.

“No need to worry, my friend. I only needed a moment to myself”

It wasn’t a complete lie, you had needed a moment, he just didn’t need to know exactly why.

“Oh, that’s a relief, I thought it was something I’d said”

You know what? to hell with innocent approaches, if he didn’t see what he had become then he needed to know. You weren’t about to sit in a front row seat to watch your friend become something he with the outmost certainty was not.

“You seriously don’t know, do you”

His eyes widened at my sudden outburst. Poor Bilbo, he didn’t have a single clue, but I needed to speak my mind or I would be sure to lose my mind just like Thorin’s grandfather. The silence that followed my statement were deafening, the poor hobbit had started to twitch his ears too, a habit you had noticed only happens when he was unsure, scared or angry. Which of the three he was feeling now was plain as day, those big and glossy doe eyes spoke volumes. But one thing didn’t go unnoticed by you. His hand had instinctively reached into his right coat pocket. 

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to snap at you… It’s just… Well, I can't prove anything, but I would have thought our friendship would have awarded me the courtesy of your trust”

The conversation that came with that sentence were long, but no less needed. He had actually not had a single clue about his latest actions, or that he had hurt You, which he by the way apologized profusely for, and he would probably continue to do just that for as long as you knew each other. It was a smaller miracle that no one had come and interrupted you two in the middle of your talk, a welcome one but a miracle no less. You just hoped that it would stay that way. Not that you were ashamed of being found in a somewhat compromising position with the Hobbit, no, the others knew you were just friends. You just wished for this moment to last forever. You and Bilbo sitting together knee deep in the biggest and most comfortable hug you had ever received, as the sun started to climb its way onto the sky. Maybe he hadn’t changed after all. 

Permanent tag list:

@theincaprincess @deepestfirefun @indelwen-of-mirkwood @gaia-writes-stuff @sdavid09 @peter-pan-on-neverland @ek823 @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 @soradragon​ @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy​

[haberdashing]

The End Comes Near (7/?)

TMA AU where Jon isn’t entirely wrong when he asks if Martin is a ghost in episode 39.

on AO3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7

Work was... work, same as always. It helped take Martin’s mind off things, at least, even though he was sure he probably wasn’t doing things as well as others would in his position, or even as well as he had before... well, before Jane Prentiss entered the picture.

Jon would probably find his work riddled with errors and yell at him when he got back. But that was fine. Wouldn’t be the first time Jon complained about his work, and at least this time he had an excuse for not being at his best.

(And at least he’d be seeing and hearing Jon again, even if it was in a less than ideal context.)

The day went by quickly enough, and after Martin left work in the evening he forced himself to make that overdue trip to the grocery store, which really wasn’t as painful as he’d feared and meant that he could actually make himself a decent dinner rather than ordering food or eating out of a can again.

The bags under his eyes grew after another night of restless sleep filled with nightmares, but he could manage. They’d go away with time, like he’d said to Sasha, right? They had to. And besides, if he was having nightmares over all this, Jon and Tim had to have it ten times worse... no use feeling sorry for himself when he knew others were worse off.

Monday started off more or less the same as Sunday had. Martin ate breakfast in his flat instead of at a cafe, but still ended up having to dispose of a good portion of it, having once again overestimated his current appetite. Sasha’d beaten Martin to the archives again, fresh coffee in hand; Martin got her a cup of tea when she ran out of coffee, and her appreciative smile brightened up the day some, though they didn’t chat all that much.

Jon and Tim were still out, which was no surprise--it would probably be weeks before they were fully recovered, and if one of them tried to come back before then (probably Jon, workaholic as he was), Martin was fully prepared to ream them out for it. He knew well enough the toll that working when not entirely healthy could take on a person, and he wasn’t going to let them do that to themselves.

...even if that meant the archives were even quieter than normal because of it.

What ended up standing out about Monday hadn’t seemed like anything remarkable at first. Martin was just fetching a book that might give useful context for a recent statement; either one of them could have gotten it, really, but Martin knew that Sasha had trouble reaching the top shelf of some of the Institute’s bookshelves while he could do so with ease, so it made sense that he do it just in case. As luck would have it, the book turned out to be on one of the lower shelves, which meant that he’d had to do some scanning of the bookshelf to locate it-

-and, while scanning the bookshelf, Martin noticed a crack in the wood around eye level, and suddenly remembered that he’d been the one that put it there. He’d been running a bit too fast through the Institute’s halls and rammed into the bookshelf, and the bookshelf had toppled over in turn, and it had taken hours to get all the books put back in their proper places, and apparently even after that he’d damaged the bookshelf in the process, hadn’t even noticed it at the time...

Martin’s thoughts raced, and he couldn’t even place them all, but the gist was clear enough: His clumsiness had hurt this bookshelf, his clumsiness had nearly cost him his life down in the tunnels (should have cost him his life, really, if the worms hadn’t reacted so bizarrely to getting the chance to attack him), his clumsiness could easily have taken his coworkers down with him...

He could have killed them. They could have died because of him.

(They didn’t, of course, but that was just dumb luck, wasn’t it? He couldn’t take credit for that.)

And he hadn’t even noticed the bookshelf getting damaged, couldn’t even fully remember how it had happened. What else had he damaged without even realizing it? What other harm had he caused without even blinking an eye?

Martin didn’t know how long he was lost in his thoughts, his vision narrowed down to that crack in the bookshelf’s wood, but he knew that what startled him out of it was a hand being pressed gently but firmly against his back and a familiar voice calling out “Martin?”

Martin blinked a few times before looking over to the source of the voice. He couldn’t remember seeing Sasha look so visibly concerned before (well, with one notable exception, one he’d rather not dwell upon any further).

And... god, his jumper (which he had worn in disregard to the summer weather because it felt right, somehow, and also because he really needed to do laundry and was rapidly running out of work-appropriate clothing) was sopping wet, his cheeks were covered in tears and he could taste snot and... and he was a blubbering mess, now, wasn’t he? Another thing he hadn’t even realized until it was too late.

“Martin, just... just try to calm down, alright?”

Martin nodded weakly and tried to focus on his breathing, on the warmth of Sasha’s hand, on how her long fingernails were pressing into his shoulder. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Deep breath in, deep breath out...

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Martin pointed at the crack in the wood. “I... I put that there.” God, his voice was shaky. He sounded pathetic. “Not today, a while back, I just... I never noticed.”

And suddenly his thoughts flipped from feeling like he could have ended the world and everything bad that happened was his fault to feeling like he was making a big deal over nothing, which didn’t actually make him feel any better, because it didn’t change that he was a blubbering mess standing... no, sitting on the floor next to a cracked bookshelf, and Sasha--Sasha of all people, who’d never cared much for emotions generally, her mind staying focused on logic instead--was the one that had to calm him down out of some sort of nervous breakdown over it.

“‘m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Sasha said. “Don’t apologize. You’re fine. It’s alright, really.”

But Martin knew better. He wasn’t fine, and it wasn’t alright, really, was it?

[calzona-ga]

Amelia Shepherd finally got some closure.

Grey's Anatomy dedicated an entire hour to the Derek-less Shepherd family this week in an episode titled "Good Shepherd," where an impromptu and long overdue New York City reunion between Amelia (Caterina Scorsone), mom Carolyn (Tyne Daly), and sisters Nancy (Embeth Davidtz) and Kathleen (Amy Acker), the latter of whom has often been mentioned but never seen, drudged up Amelia's past inhibitions and personal battles during an explosive conversation around the dinner table. (The fourth Shepherd sister, Liz, portrayed by Neve Campbell in season nine, was "out of town.")

Ever since her Private Practice days, Amelia has been the definition of tumult -- with her share of failed romances (her recent divorce from Owen), battles with substance and alcohol abuse, and health problems (her brain tumor in season 14) keeping everyone on their toes. And as the youngest Shepherd sibling, she was often seen as the baby of the family, with her late brother, Derek (Patrick Dempsey), taking responsibility as her unofficial caretaker following their dad's death when they were kids. Those factors, mixed with Amelia's lack of communication with her family over the years, compounded her sisters' perceptions that she was still the "black sheep" of the family, no matter how successful she became or the strides she took to improve upon herself.

But a deep heart-to-heart between Amelia and her mom in Central Park provided the answers she had been seeking about her error-prone, directionless past. "Do you think I sabotage my relationships? I don't know how to love?" Amelia asked, after coming clean to her family about her divorce from Owen (Kevin McKidd) -- and her mother's response was both heartbreaking and illuminating. "Every time you fell down, you got up and came back stronger... You weren't afraid of it. And that's what made you -- out of all the kids -- the most like your father," Carolyn said, explaining that it was difficult to be around her youngest daughter following Papa Shepherd's death, hence why she handed the reins over to Derek. "You deserved a mother... and it is my biggest regret."

Following the episode, ET spoke with Scorsone for a breakdown of the Amelia-centric hour, reuniting the Shepherd family members (and finally meeting Kathleen!), Amelia's romantic future with Link (and if Owen is still in the picture) and the touching Central Park moment between Amelia and Mama Shepherd.

ET: When did you know that you were going to get a standalone hour dedicated to Amelia's story? Caterina Scorsone: One of the nice things of having an Amelia-centric episode was a lot of stuff that was developed when Amelia was a regular character on Private Practice. There was a lot of backstory that we learned about her on Private Practice that some Grey's fans haven't seen. Getting to go back and encounter her family of origin, as opposed to the family that she's built in Seattle, is great. You kind of get to see a little bit of where she came from and where she fits into her family dynamic.

You've been playing this character for almost a decade now, and I feel like the theme of this episode is a lot about Amelia confronting her past and her place in the family -- that many of them still look at her as the "black sheep." You really see Amelia work through this with her sisters and her mother, especially. Right, although she's encountering the behavior that triggered a lot of her childhood stuff to come up. I think one of the things that's beautiful about it is I think it's a really relatable, universal story -- maybe it's a bit more extreme in Amelia's case. Often we grow up and we encounter new ideas and we have new experiences and we change and evolve into a different person [than] when we were a child or when we were surrounded by our childhood dynamics. But I think there's a part of most people that doesn't notice the change happening, so when they go back to see their family at holiday times, they have an opportunity to excavate some of the dynamics that formed who they became and some of the dynamics that led to them wanting to change that dynamic. It's a beautiful opportunity to see somebody working through therapy. She's like, "Wow, I think I'm a different person but these are the conditions that formed the person that I became."

One of the most beautiful moments was Amelia's conversation with her mom, Carolyn, in Central Park, where they hash out their nonexistent mother-daughter relationship... Ugh! Tyne Daly is unbelievable. I'm so grateful that I got to work with her. That was the part of doing the standalone that made me most excited and nervous. I couldn't believe that I was going to have an opportunity to work opposite Tyne Daly. (Laughs.) Because I've been playing Amelia for so long and I've known Tyne played my mom -- I've seen all of the footage of her with Derek [in the season five episode, "Sympathy for the Devil"] -- and she was a big part of my backstory even when I was playing scenes without Tyne. Whenever I would do scenes about her, I would picture Tyne as my mom as Amelia -- whenever I had to remember something or telling a story. She was an active part of my creative life. So when Tyne walked into the lobby of the hospital where we did our first scene and I saw her, I burst into tears! (Laughs.)

When Carolyn conceded that she wasn't there for Amelia when she needed her in her formative years, that was truly heartbreaking. Have you thought about how differently things could have turned out for Amelia had her mom taken the reins more as a parental figure? Absolutely. In that moment, Amelia's mom [stepped] up as a mother and took care of Amelia's inner child and said, "Listen, you weren't given what you needed at the time when you were forming your ability to attach. I was not there." There was an absence. In terms of psychology and attachment theory, Amelia went through some incredible trauma at a formative time -- she was 5 years old and she was sitting in that store and she witnessed her father murdered in front of her. After that, her mom -- from what she says in this episode and from what I established in my backstory on Private Practice -- her mom, because of her grief, wasn't able to mirror Amelia and be present for Amelia in the ways that would have helped her process that trauma. That trauma was guided in her body and in her amygdala [nerve tissue in the brain responsible for emotions, survival instincts and memory] and created this fight or flight response that wasn't cured. I think that she probably had a viron that was predisposed to addiction, but I absolutely think that the body attachment and the trauma that she witnessed at such a formative age was a big part of the road that her life ended up going down for a long time.

It's Amelia's strength that, despite all that trauma and broken attachment, she was able to overcome and go to AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) and create relationships and go to med school and start getting back to medicine and have friendships. Her mom was big enough to admit her part in that piece and still be available as a mother. It's a powerful story. Nobody does things perfectly, but when you're able to look at them and talk about them, and forgive them and yourself and others, that's a pretty good job that you're doing there.

We've met the other Shepherd sisters, Nancy and Lizzie, before, but it's pretty stunning that it took until season 15 for Kathleen to finally be introduced. What did it mean to be able to have a full picture of the Shepherd family with Amy Acker now in the mix? Amy Acker is such an incredible actress. She's so talented, she's so funny and as a person, she's so kind and lovely. I had a blast working with her. I hope that she comes back and plays with us more. Working with her and Tyne and Embeth was incredible, and I'm so happy to have a complete picture in my creative, imaginative mind about Amelia's family. We're also so lucky to work with Chris -- he's so great in the episode and so funny. It was just a wonderful time. And Bill D'Elia, who was the director, and Julie Wong, who was the writer; I just feel super lucky to have this experience.

You haven't shared a scene yet with Neve Campbell, who plays Lizzie.I know! She has to come back! (Laughs.)

Shifting gears, Amelia and Link's blossoming relationship has been a pleasant surprise. Did you see them coming as a couple? What is their long-term future? I didn't see it coming. It kind of a twist that Krista [Vernoff] came to me about, she was like, "We want to try this. You're going to go back to New York and he's going to be there." Chris Carmack is a super talented guy and so it's been fun to play with him. The chemistry is really good and there's been a lot of fun, comedic beats that we've been able to play, which has been a really refreshing turn for Amelia. A lot of what she's been going through were fun at times, but there was a lot of heaviness with the Betty storyline. This has been a little bit of a reprieve from that. In terms of long-term, I honestly don't know. We're doing some fun stuff, but I also think that "Omelia" is such a beautiful and rich relationship; Kevin [McKidd] and I love working together too. We're just trying to stay as present and open and as available for what flows through [the writers'] pens. Both relationships are really interesting and fun to play for me, so I'm trying to be in acceptance of whatever lands at my desk in the next script.

Amelia and Owen have been back and forth over the years; they're currently divorced, co-parenting baby Leo and at the same time, Owen is expecting a child with Teddy. Should we be closing the door on Amelia and Owen? What do you think their relationship status should be when it all comes down to it? I would never say they're over for good. They do have so much history and they've shared so much pain and they both have their wounds and they've witnessed each through those. At this point, it's extremely complicated and they've reached a bit of an impasse at this point in their lives. At least where it stands right now, they're taking a step back and taking a breath and trying to figure it out. They can't keep ramming their heads into this wall right now, but they're just so beautiful together and their bond is so deep that I think it would be impossible for them to being nothing. They're going to either be incredibly cordial to each other or one day, they'll find each other again. I don't know. But what I can tell you is, as actors, Kevin and I adore each other and we love working together, so [maybe the writers] decide they are buddies, co-parenting babies in this new, structured way. Or could they end up re-finding each other and end up living happily ever after?

[hailqiqi]

2019 Fic Round-Up

Writer buddies, let’s do this (as in, if you haven’t yet, do yours too!)

Stats:

(I’m going with a random quote from each one because I’m a fan of long summaries.)

Fics Posted (Gen): 3

A Little Taste of What Should Have Been

And that was how Pidge found herself kneeling sideways on the couch, face inches away from Lance’s shoulder as he disinfected first two sewing needles and then the earrings with a professional air.

Wriggle, Jiggle, Bake!

“Okay, so you’ve been magically de-aged — because apparently that’s a thing. Why is that a thing? Whatever. Of course it’s a thing out here."

Here

“Don’t make it weird, Lance,” she huffed, already tugging him into the room and closing the door behind them. “C’mon. I’ll help you wash all that off.”

Fics Posted (Plance Oneshots): 7

2 x 100 word drabbles

(Domestic Fantasy & Kabedon)

The Advantages of Being Small

“I couldn’t help it! It was just too tempting!”

Untangle to Wait, Unravel to See

Of course a fortune teller would appear as soon as he started talking about one. They were on a magical world with magical aliens and Lance was like, the hero of the story, so it made sense that events would be tied to his dialogue. Most importantly, it was not creepy at all, and anyone who said Lance was creeped out could go suck it.

the world is out there, my dear, but we're in here

Pidge froze. The reaction was so subtle that Lance would have missed it if he hadn't been watching for it -- she relaxed herself almost immediately, eyebrows raised in casual challenge -- but she'd reacted, all the same.

so it turns out I kinda missed you

Grumbling, Lance crossed his arms and sunk back into his seat. “I could’ve come to get her on my own, you know.” “Yeah, but then you wouldn’t be able to make out in the back seat on the way home.”

The Stars Aren't the Same for You and I

Dancing with Pidge was fun.

Fics Posted (Plance Chaptered): 2 (1.5?)

Skirting Katabasis

"So... Do you think you could put it back together?" Pidge tilted the tablet towards her and looked at him hard. His expression was hesitant, but his eyes were soft...almost pleading. She smirked. "Who do you think I am, Keith?”

The Future in Snippets (Chapters 3-5)

In truth, she had no idea what was fine. Her brain had switched off several heartbeats ago, but she couldn’t really find it in herself to care.

Fics Posted (Plance Collabs): 2

Smack, Kiss, Fall in Love (even chapters)

The prince doesn’t ignore the princess for the nerdy sidekick. Even if that sidekick was a badass fighter who’d saved his life countless times. Or a genius who constantly left his head spinning. Or totally into the same video games that defined Lance’s childhood, and the owner of a smile so blinding it made the stars look dim.

(shoutout to @sp4c3-0ddity​, my co-conspirator who made Pidge’s star so bright!)

It's Beginning to Look a Lot like A Christmas Carol  (Prologue & Chap 1)

“An intervention?” “Sure. Have you ever seen A Christmas Carol?” His mind freezes. “You mean the Dickens book?” “Uh…” Keith’s dad trails off, blinking. “No, the movie. With the little green man? I think they made a version with the grouchy duck, too.”

(shoutout to the awesome @rueitae​ and @sp4c3-0ddity​ who brought both the crack and the tears essential items for any Christmas party all we’re missing is the food fight and divorce)

Total Fics Posted: 14

Oooh wow. That’s more than one a month!

 Ship/Character Breakdown:

Ship Breakdown: Plance, with over 75%

[colleen image]

Character Breakdown: Pidge and Lance are in 100% of my fics. Hunk is next in 5 (with 1 POV!), then Keith and Allura both get 3 (both even get POV parts and Keith’s a major focus in Skirting Katabasis), then Shiro, Coran and Lance/Pidge’s families are more bit players.

I only just realized that the chapter in Smack, Kiss, Fall in Love is the only time I’ve really written Shiro. And now I’m horrified because Shiro was my first love.

Characters that had the Main Focus: 6 +1 Lance POV, 4+2 Pidge POV, 2 Switching POV fics and then the drabbles don’t count.  I actually started out the year tearing my hair out because I related to Pidge so much more, but now I really enjoy writing Lance. It’s actually a little tricky to get into Pidge’s headspace to work on my chaptereds sometimes.

Specifics

 Best/Worst Title?

Best Skirting Katabasis. C’mon. That’s like, literary (Katabasis being hell or destruction in Greek mythos). Worst Untangle to Wait, Unravel to See. I had help with it but this fic was just so hard to name.

Best/worst last line?

Best I tend to structure my chapters/one-shots around the last line so…this is hard.

"What took you so long? I've been waiting for you."

(Untangle to Wait, Unravel to See)

My personal favourite, though, is from so it turns out I kinda missed you:

Luis laughed. “Hi, Not-My-Girlfriend. I’m Not-His-Brother, Luis.”

Worst

Hunk just laughed. “You can’t fix that right now, so you might as well have some fun!”

(Wriggle, Jiggle, Bake!) So cheesey.

The last line that gives me personal arghs is from Here:

He buried his face in her sodden hair and cried.

...because a day after posting I realised that I should’ve written wept, dammit, and now it annoys me every time I see it.

Honourable mention to The Advantages of Being Small for winning the no-context award:

“Reckon I could fit three fingers up there?”

 General Questions

 Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

Way more than I thought!  I think I had planned out about 8? Of those I wrote two (zine fics), started but haven’t finished 2, and the other 4 are still pending.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

None, my obsessions are long-lasting and constant.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

Skirting Katabasis or It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like A Christmas Carol. Though TBH I enjoy re-reading most of the stuff I posted in the last 6 months.

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

In every single metric on AO3 it’s The Future in Snippets. Y’all like your porn (even if there’s not much of it).

On tumblr it’s Wriggle, Jiggle, Bake! by like 100 notes.

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

If this is a roundabout way of saying ‘What’s your LEAST popular story?’ it’s The Advantages of Being Small, but TBH that’s a very short crack-ficlet so it doesn’t bother me (same with the drabbles).

If the question is “What fic do you think people should like MORE?” the answer is Skirting Katabasis. It’s fifth on the list for bookmarks and 9th for Kudos, and I’m not sure why?? Does it sound too gen? Do you not like Platonic Adventure Kidge? Honestly y’all are missing out it’s like the best thing I’ve ever written. Hands down.

Story that could have been better?

The Future in Snippets. Hands down. It was started on a whim, as a practice fic for another idea I’ve been nurturing for even longer, and back when I was newer at this writing thing. It wasn’t very tightly plotted – in fact the plot was expanded upon and changed multiple times before I settled on what I have now, several chapters in – and certain things that should have been seeded were left out of earlier chapters because I wasn’t experienced enough to figure out how to work them in and foolishly thought ‘oh, it won’t matter! Such a small detail!’, so now I’m scratching my head trying to figure out how to compensate.

I tend to work off very tight outlines, but Snippets was missing that for a large part of the process and I think it shows. I do think I’ve done a good job nailing the emotion in it, though, and that’s like 95% of the fic so as long as I keep that up it’ll all be fine.

Sexiest story?

The Future in Snippets is smut so… First place for SFW sexy goes to the world is out there, my dear, but we’re in here.

Saddest story?

I think The Stars Aren’t the Same for You and I wins because it’s a heartbreaking situation with no good resolution. There’s no comfort to be found there.

Most fun?

A Little Taste of What Should Have Been. It’s just…fun!

The most fun I had writing was Smack, Kiss, Fall in Love, because it was challenging, and I’d wake up every day excited to find out what had happened in the last chapter overnight.

Story with single sweetest moment?

The Future in Snippets (Chapter 4) 

“Um…” She turned the brush in her hands over again before holding it up sheepishly. “Do you remember how you said you’d braid my hair?”

Lance’s whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really?!”

A giggle escaped her lips and she smiled, nodding. “Really.”

Hardest story to write?

The Future in Snippets. The emotions in this fic have become a convoluted mess and it is growing exponentially harder to write as I continue. I simply don’t have the level of skill required, but by God I will find it so that I can finish it properly.

Easiest/most fun story to write?

Skirting Katabasis!  The outline for this fic is tight, and I freaking love writing this fic. Like I just feel like smiling the whole process. I don’t know why. It feels like the wrong answer because it’s a fairly involved fic, but I just enjoy everything about it.

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

Smack, Kiss, Fall in Love actually gave me a much better understanding of Lance. Skirting Katabasis made me really look at Keith and realise that hey – the dude is actually very emotional, very chatty, and very soft (he’s so often typecast as the ‘moody loner’ because that’s what they call him in the show but he really doesn’t act like that).

Most overdue story?

Uh. The Future in Snippets was originally scheduled to be finished in January 2018, so… I also have a soulmate WIP which was meant to be for V-Day 2018.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

I started to play about with other POVs, and discovered that I can write other POVs? I also did two collabs!  The first one I discovered that Reem really is a sweetheart, and with the second I discovered that either I’m really bossy or really persuasive or both maybe I should go into politics.

I also did a couple of events and zines and exchanges. I discovered that piece-writing – like writing with a target/deadline/outside expectation – does not agree with me, and I will no longer sign up for events/zines/exchanges.

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

1.     Finish my WIPs.

2.     Write my Pidge Makes Bad Decisions fic!

3.     That’s about it really. Can you take over the world by writing fic? If so, that’s going on the list.

[scriptureofashes]

(Not) Guilty (Part 1/2)

So by popular demand, here it is, folks. The direct sequel to (Not) Sorry. This will be a two part piece (which will then be later posted in whole in my ao3) and as I tell you in the ao3 version, a winteriron fic.

Enjoy Part 1! (Enjoy about 5000 words written through blood and sweat lmao I need sleep)

Rhodey found him in the shop. Obviously.

“Well, that could’ve gone worse.”

Tony muttered something in return, made unintelligible by the screwdriver in his mouth. He wasn’t in the mood for basic socialization. He never was, frankly.

“Tones.”

Tony kept working.

“Tony.”

“Are the legs acting up again? I’ve been working on something that can recalibrate—”

Rhodey sighed. “Tony, come on—”

“Come on what.”

The sound of the screwdriver slamming on the table echoed, loud and uncomfortable. Tony winced. He didn’t mean to be so dramatic. Well, he didn’t mean to be more dramatic than usual.

“Sorry. I—sorry.”

“What are you even apologizing for?”

Ruining your life? Ruining other people’s lives? Ruining the world as we know it?

“I ate your pancake share. I’d feel guilty, but Bruce’s cooking kind of counteracts any sort of negative emotion. I suspect Strange did something.”

Rhodey’s unimpressed eyebrow was enough to tell his bullshit had been called.

“First, you took my share right out of my hands and ran off with the most maniacal laugh I’ve ever heard from you. Second, you’re not working on anything even remotely related to what you just said, considering the Captain America shield is on full display.”

Tony blinked. Well, I never thought I’d see the day I’d bring this much stupid into my own workshop.

“Tony, what are you doing?”

He sighed. “Nothing. Fri, if you please.”

“Yes, boss.” The hologram immediately changed into Mark XLVII.

“Nothing? That didn’t look like nothing. You’re not giving them upgrades, are you?”

Tony’s silence was answer enough.

“I’m going to beat your ass.”

“That’s not nice.”

“God, Tony,” Rhodey sighed, again. He rounded the table and took the wrench right out of his hold. “Did you simply forget what happened? What Rogers said? What Barton said?”

“Of course I didn’t forget, but whether I like it or not the ‘gang’,” he did the air quotes and everything, “Is back at it again, and it’s my job to provide with what I can.”

“No, it’s not. You’re doing this out of the goodness in your heart, is what you’re doing. Don’t deny it, damn it,” he warned as Tony prepared to argue. “You’ve settled things so that they could return, for duty. For our home. For our world. You’ve signed the pardon, for duty. You’ve put on the suit once more, for duty. But this?”

Rhodey waved the wrench in his face.

“This isn’t an obligation. This is another attempt of yours at an apology, at reconciliation, with you being the one to put aside your pride and dignity, like always.”

“Did you maybe consider I wanted to see whether mine or Shuri’s tech would work best?”

“Right, because you haven’t already had 5-hour long Skype conversations with her and incorporated her methods into yours.”

Guilty.

It was Rhodey’s turn to slam his hand on the table.

“You’re already playing host. You’re already giving up your time, money and space to house them, when the government could’ve perfectly done that themselves without you having yet another mental breakdown over these assholes.”

“To be fair, the government would have given them atrocious installations and—”

“And it would have been well deserved.”

In his experience, Tony knew arguing with Rhodey when he was that riled up would be fruitless, so he said nothing. He hadn’t been about to disagree, per se. It would be a long-overdue lesson in humility. But he just… knew. He knew they would think he was behind the whole ordeal, that he would be the one to demand them placed in heinous lodging out of spite, sneering at him for it behind his back.

As if they don’t do that already.

Still. He wasn’t about to risk getting shot in the knee during the upcoming battle by what they all would claim was an alien, turning a blind eye to Barton’s suddenly emptier quiver.

“Look, Tones.” For a minute, Rhodey didn’t say anything. He had his ‘My best friend is an idiot and I don’t know how to deal with it’ brow on. “I’m not saying they shouldn’t be here. They’re the only ones that can help. But I’ve noticed something. Something that’s been happening since the very beginning of this whole Avengers business.”

“In my defense, I haven’t had much time to go to the dresser and cover them up—”

“It’s not your grey hairs. Though it might be related,” he said. He looked thoughtful, instead of defiant. “You compromise. A lot. You compromise with everyone in all senses of the word, even where the smallest of things is concerned.”

He paused.

“You compromise where you shouldn’t. Maybe it’s time you stopped that.”

“Fri?”

“It’s 3:42 in the am, boss. No one is in the kitchen.”

Tony would have fired a comeback about late night cravings for some leftover chinese, which was a real thing that afflicted everyone, but the relief at finally being able to wander around his own house without imminent risk swallowed it back. Granted, he was popping out because Bruce had apparently stress-baked blueberry muffins and those went divine with coffee, but it counted as leaving the shop.

After 36 hours. He could swear Pepper found a way to project herself into his mind to chide him at the proper occasion. His brain couldn’t sound so properly vexed at himself.

Friday turned on and dimmed the lights for him, despite the clear moonlight seeping through the slim panes of the windows. Tony could hear the clock ticking somewhere as he picked one of the two muffins left, cutting through the silence of the night like a reminder—a reminder of how little time they most likely had.

Thankfully, there was some remaining coffee in the mug, so he went without the usual ruckus of coffee machines (maybe he should give it another tweak). Bruce had probably known he would venture out and went to bed only after leaving him fresh coffee. He’d tried making Tony sleep in the past. He gave up the lost cause.

He knew about the nightmares, now.

“Fri, give me Princess Shuri’s drafts on the shield.”

His own voice made all of his hairs stand on end, even if whispered. He knew it was dangerous to display this in the middle of the kitchen, connected to the common area as it was, but there were details on the wakandan princess’s plans for a new shield that Tony was having a hard time figuring out, and damn him if he wasn’t going to spare every break on them.

Her ideas were complex and far more advanced than anything he’d ever come up with. Shuri worked in ways Tony only ever briefly considered and then dismissed, never quite knowing how to get there. He honestly never thought he’d see the day when someone smarter than him would make it possible, or that they’d be a sixteen-year-old girl. Bright, young minds indeed.

It made his blood rush with excitement. A challenge. Finally.

“Zoom in on—yes, exactly.” He took a bite out of the muffin—delicious, as expected—and gulped down some coffee. “Now, see, I don’t quite understand how she wants to…”

“Boss?”

“Brilliant, maybe too brilliant for me. I can’t—oh. Oh!”

Tony almost spilled coffee everywhere. He was going to mail this kid three dozen boxes of American candy and all the Coachella tickets she wanted.

“Ha, you clever kid, you!”

“Boss.”

Of course! Of freaking course, how did he not—

“Jesus Christ.”

The Winter Soldier blinked.

“No. Just me.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

Though the physical differences are slim to none.

Tony quickly swiped left before Barnes could see anything and backtracked to the sink, hackles raised. He suppressed the impulse to press his hand on his chest out of habit, or to call for a suit and blast himself far, far away from the compound. He remembered seeing a knife among the dishes in the sink, but he wasn’t stupid enough to glance at it.

The soldier remained on the couch, unperturbed. Too far away from the kitchen lights, he was almost a shadow, cloaked in light and dark both. The usual unkempt bird’s nest of a hair was tied up in a bun to keep it from his face, only to accentuate the sharpness of his jawline. He looked every bit a heartless assassin.

Tony scrutinized the area for a tactical retreat without having to turn his back to him. “Lover’s spat?”

Barnes looked like he’d almost frowned.

“What?”

“You and Rogers.” He slowly moved around the island. “Did he kick you out of the bed already?”

“I’m not going to put a knife to your throat, Stark.”

Tony really should have known better. One armed or not, it was the Winter Soldier. The Winter Soldier. Brief flashes of roadways and car crashes played behind his eyes, but Tony locked those images away in less than a split second.

“I distinctly remember the Accords stating you weren’t allowed near anything sharp without supervision until they deemed you able,” Tony stated simply. “So I suspect not.”

There didn’t seem to be a hint of resentment at those words. In fact, Barnes looked almost relieved.

“I don’t blame them.” He paused. Tony thought that was that, then, “Steve and I… we ain’t together.”

“Like I care.”

Even in the dark, Tony saw grey eyes peering at him.

“We aren’t together,” Barnes repeated, as if to make a point Tony was missing. “We never were and we never will be.”

A point Tony was now deliberately missing.

“Spare me your pathetic pining, Kristoff. If you’re looking for a pity party, you’d better look elsewhere.”

A crash—his father’s blood—his mother’s whimpers—a murderer’s cold eyes—

“I remember all of them.”

Tony retreated to the shop before Barnes could say anything.

The liquor stash he’d kept down at the workshop of the Avengers tower had never gained a twin for the new one once the team moved to the compound, thanks to Pepper and Rhodey, but as Tony sat on its couch and watched his former companions patter idly about the common area through his surveillance cameras, he felt that old thirst make its return in full force.

This is what my life has come to. Wary and confined to parts of his own home, reliant on Friday showing him if the coast was clear, lest he came face to face with yet another unpleasant, uncivil confrontation with the people poisoning his life. The people that accepted him with open arms and too wide smiles, only to break him into a thousand pieces.

You’d think he’d have learned his lesson by now.

They tried getting into the workshop. Of course they did. They came, high on entitlement and set on more degrading words with the arrogant and ungrateful Tony Stark. They came, and outside they stayed, in clear anger at being denied access by the smooth voice of a fuming AI.

Rogers was the one hardest to watch. He wouldn’t even come angry—determined, maybe, but never angry. Desperate suited him better, as well as… contrite. He wouldn’t demand, he would beg—in his own Captain America fashion—and he would stare straight at the eye of the beholder, very obviously aware of Tony watching, or at least in hopes of so. He would speak to Friday like he was speaking to Tony, always saying the same thing.

“I just want to talk.”

His face remained ever composed, but there was real pain in those blue eyes every time he was denied access, and Tony really, really didn’t know what to make of that.

They were trying to watch a movie of sorts now, it seemed. Tony once made the mistake of leaving the sound on when checking up on them. He’d pretended not to feel the stabs at his chest upon hearing the things they’d said about him.

“I can’t believe he’s bitter about that, what a selfish—”

“Still arrogant as ever, it seems—”

“He gets pissed when I give him a piece of his medicine, but I’m not allowed to get revenge for my family? He knows nothing of the pain I—”

No sound. Just video. It was safer that way.

“My ears tell me of you forging yet another offering of weapons for the very people who betrayed your trust.”

“Alright, you know what.” Tony took half a moment to bank back the heart attack, wiped down his greasy hands and reached for the drawer on his desk. “Here you go, Rudolph. A shiny bell to match your shiny nose.”

Loki caught the green collar with one hand and one eyebrow raised.

“I do not have a shiny nose.”

Tony quickly disabled Friday’s live display, but Loki wouldn’t be known as the Trickster if he weren’t smart enough to know what he’d been watching. His eyes narrowed.

“You fear them.”

“I don’t fear them.” Not exactly.

Loki contemplated him. It was still odd to see him in Earth clothing, but an all black suit was an unsurprisingly good fit on him. Completely out of place in a mechanic’s haven, but Tony wasn’t one to talk about donning expensive suits just because he could around the house, now was he?

“You do.”

“Was there a point to you coming here?”

“Ah, yes. We’re having one of those ‘movie-marathons’ tonight as you call them, per young Peter’s insistence. Banner even brought some of those dough and cheese based pies.”

Tony blinked. It’s Thursday already?

“There was no pizza in Asgard? No wonder it got blown up by Ghost Rider's evil grandfather.”

Tony went to check on his drafts, disconcerted by the sudden pass of time, but was halted by Loki’s hand on his shoulder. His expression was unreadable. It always was.

“Stop trying to appease them, Stark.”

Then he left without another word.

These damn Asgardians, I swear.

Due to circumstances, his team—minus Romanoff—took their business to the wing set opposite the one now occupied by Cap’s team, where another, slightly smaller common area was built. There was no kitchen or even a dining room, seeing as Tony’s plan had been to spare it for visitors, so it was more of a living room than anything. He certainly didn’t plan on using it, and he certainly didn’t plan on, you know, using it to avoid certain people. In his own property.

Yet if he so much as issued a part of the compound that wasn’t his workshop restricted, he’d be labelled the asshole again and the slowly steadying dynamic would tip again. So, he let things be.

Decorators had settled on a teal theme, turned dark green by the late afternoon sun. Thor was already sprawled out on a couch, his brother comfortable on the armchair beside him. Bruce and Rhodey engaged in casual conversation. Peter, to Tony’s amusement, sat on the Asgardian king’s belly and gobbled down a slice of pizza that looked legitimately bigger than his head.

“Slow it down, pygmy shrew. Leave some for me.”

“Mr. Stark!”

“Man of Iron!”

Thor actually sprung from the couch and to his side, all joy and smiles and paying no mind whatsoever to the kid he’d just sent spiraling over.

“We were beginning to think you would not join us in the merriment!”

“For God’s sake, just say fun, Thor.”

It was… weird, for lack of a better word, to see him short-haired and one-eyed. Sure, Tony had more time to adjust than some, seeing as Thor had gone to him upon hearing about the disbanded Avengers—he somehow remembered how Tony had predicted what was on its way—but he was like a literal reflection on how things had changed.

A literal reflection who hugged his lungs out.

“Okay, okay, let go, let go, let go.” Thor put him down with a godsworn pout. “Happy to see you too, big guy. But I don’t hug, that’s general knowledge.”

From his spot on the floor, Peter saluted. “General Knowledge.”

“You’re grounded.”

The kid had the nerve to cackle. Youths these days, so disrespectful.

“What have you been working on that’s got you so holed up in that lab?” Bruce asked, even if his voice tone implied he knew. And disapproved.

“Nothing too important.”

Bruce looked about ready to rebuffel, but Rhodey cut in. “He’s right, it’s not important. It’s not going for clearance. At all.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of what I do with my inventions.”

“You’re not a weapons manufacturer anymore, Tones. Legally, I could impeach your ass and confiscate whatever war tech you build.”

Tony gaped. “Now see here—”

“Of course I’m not gonna do it. Just know that I can, and I will if I must.”

“If you must? What exactly am I supposed to do here, then?”

Building and fixing things was what he did. If he wasn’t allowed to do that, then there was no purpose to him on the team whatsoever. And if—if—

“You’re supposed to be minding your own damn business, is exactly what. We are not having this argument, Tones,” he perfuncted. “Now sit back and watch Return of the Jedi.”

“Ugh, again?”

Tony woke up on the floor with a horrible back ache, a mouthful of Peter’s hair and a blanket of Avengers. And cold sweat on his temples. He weaseled out of the cocoon and back to work, popped tires and fiery, starry darkness a ghost in his mind.

“Jesus!”

“No, still me.”

Tony watched Barnes eat his cereal in complete disbelief. He had his hair down this time, and was still in dire need of a shave. Seriously, was it in now, for super soldiers to loathe razors?

“How are you doing that? Friday, what gives?”

“I’m sorry boss. He just seems to appear out of nowhere.”

“Out of—” Tony ran a hand down his face. Ex-assassins.

Barnes raised his brow at him, looking entirely unimpressed, as if being incognito had been his intention all along. Tony was reminded of the silent and efficient kill method of the Winter Soldier, the few reports he bothered to read of dead Hydra targets without a clue as to whom or what killed them.

Cold adrenaline burned then. Once is an anomaly, twice is a coincidence…

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Barnes blurted, immediately scrapping every conclusion Tony had drawn in that one half-moment.

Everything about this guy was… disorienting. Barnes stared at his bowl of Lucky Charms almost like he was afraid of looking Tony in the eye, which was ridiculous, really. If anything, Tony should be the one shrinking in on himself—or not, given what he just heard.

“How do you know that?” Tony asked and immediately winced. Shuri had made sure to send a mentally apt Barnes for the new Avengers cause, so there was no trigger-word concern anymore. In theory.

Barnes looked up, and the simple act seemed to bring him pain, clear and sharp in his eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Tony didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to say to that.

I assaulted you. I almost killed you. I blasted your damn arm off. And you don’t want to hurt me.

He got his coffee and made to go back to the—

“I’m sorry.”

Tony froze mid-step and didn’t turn around.

“It’s worth nothin’. It won’t bring ‘em back and it doesn’t make up for it, not by a long shot,” and at this Barnes made a sound, that self-deprecating, pathetic laugh Tony was all too familiar with himself, “But know that I’m so, so sorry.”

There was a pause. Tony still didn’t dare glance at him, unwilling to see what expression matched the utter sincerity and regret in that rasp of a voice.

“And I understand why you don’t trust me. So I’ll say it again: I’m not going to hurt you.”

Tony wanted to scream. He wanted to hurl his coffee at the wall, he wanted to shake Barnes until sense came to him, he wanted to cry his stomach sick. A part of him wanted to assure the ex-assassin he couldn’t hurt him even if he tried. The other begged to let him, in hopes he’d succeed.

Tony did neither. He crept back to the shop, ignoring how violently his hands shook.

“You know, when I said ‘don’t make weapons for the Avengers’ and told you to focus on something else, this isn’t what I meant.”

“I’m sure that’s close to what Raza thought when he told me to build the Jericho and I blew up his base instead, but what’re we gonna do?”

Rhodey sighed, then a flashdrive and a huge stack of papers were deposited on the table. A nail rolled across them and onto the floor, but Tony’s attention was drawn to the Russian words peeking at the corner of an age-old folder. Bruce, previously focused on his own side of their current project, looked up in confusion.

“What’s all this?”

“Everything you need to know about Sergeant Barnes and more. From where USSR first took him to and when, to his stay on Wakanda.” Rhodey turned to Tony. “I thought you already went through the reports?”

“That’s right, you thought.”

Tony had been indeed given these same papers, post his disagreement with Cap and said man’s exile, right when he’d wanted absolutely nothing to do with Bucky Barnes. They were sent back in less than a day, spared nothing more at than a disturbed glance.

Now, though… Tony did a mental pause. Now what?

“Should I be concerned? I mean, last time you pulled something unexpected you became Iron Man,” Rhodey said. “And you taking a sudden interest in the man who murdered your parents is unexpected.”

Bruce took the liberty to flicker through the papers, already frowning.

“When said man is a guest in the compound, I’m going to take such an interest.”

Friday displayed the contents of the flashdrive. A myriad of information settled itself on screen, then the face of 1940’s James Buchanan Barnes was staring back at him. The contrast between this roguish man and the broken one Tony had actually met almost made him reel backwards. The eyes were the same, even through outdated, poor quality photos, yet the ghosts that now haunted them were nowhere to be seen.

“He fell off the train in 1945 and was found by the Russians. Not by Hydra, like most people think…”

Bruce kept reading aloud, words Tony’s brain didn’t process as he was too busy assimilating the absolute horror he was shown. He’d suspected some of what he read, but this—

Torture—brainwashing—violent punishment—

“Fuck.”

“Tones?”

Memory wipes—isolation as punishment—starvation as punishment—mind control—

His mind brought him back to Afghanistan before he could even process it, to cold heat of caves and metal and stale water, to—

“Ton—”

There were photos. Visuals to accompany the reports on progress, proof that proper discipline methods were being exercised—so it read. Depictions of red, yellow, black, blue. Bruises. Blood matted skin and hair. Countless lacerations. Protruding bones. Swellings from head traumas.

Utter gore.

“Oh my God.”

There were videos. The one playing was of not many, caught in very, very poor quality, but you could clearly see Barnes and the chair he was strapped to. And the electric flares on his head.

And you could hear the screaming. The screaming.

“Jesus fuck…”

Tony didn’t even admonish Bruce’s swearing. He was too busy throwing up his coffee.

Bruce’s tea was hot on his palms and burned going down his throat. All heads-up displays were disabled, all music muted. His shop was silent but for his bots’ whirrs and the disturbing sound of four human beings breathing.

“I’m sorry.”

Bruce frowned. Tony gestured to the coffee mug Dummy was currently replacing.

“Wasted your coffee.”

He was then on the receiving end of three varying expressions of disbelief. No, two—Rhodey actually looked exasperated instead.

“Tony. You had a completely acceptable reaction to what you just saw.”

“It was damn good coffee, though. I’m—”

“Stop apologizing.”

Tony stared at Strange. The wizard stared back. Didn’t so much as blink, eyes hard to read. Tony opened his mouth—

“Stop apologizing. And drink that.”

Strange then gestured open a portal back to the Sanctum and left with a twirl of that infuriating red cloak.

Tony shot his tea a haughty look. I knew it.

The lockdown mode lasted for five days. Well, the extra lockdown settings did. About five people in the compound had access codes to his shop. For five days, they didn’t.

For five days, Tony was AWOL. For five days, Tony processed what he’d learned. Sat shrouded in nothing but darkness and the cyan blue light of his monitors, Tony watched Bucky Barnes. He watched him do his work out routine. He watched him eat breakfast. He watched him eat lunch. He watched him eat dinner. He watched him skip movie night and go to bed.

For five days, Tony watched him. And he noticed. He noticed that Barnes’ work out routine ended when somebody else joined him. He noticed that Barnes always ate alone. He noticed that Barnes skipped his team’s bonding hour to sit in the gym and stare at nothing. Or the compound garden, or the compound roof, or anywhere that got him alone.

Or anywhere that got him away from his team.

Tony already knew what kind of shitstorm awaited him once he authorized the codes again. Rhodey was probably pissed. Bruce was probably concerned. Peter was probably hurt. Thor was probably sad, and Loki… well, Loki wasn’t probable, but Tony guessed he wasn’t pleased.

He wasn’t referring to the Avengers, no, currently enjoying their own movie night in their own common area, either oblivious or impervious to Tony’s lockdown mode. He could have fucked off to someplace, and they’d still sit and talk and laugh among each other as they watched Pulp Fiction. He could have up and left the planet, and they’d still plot behind his back.

Like they were now.

“Hey, not for nothin’ or nothin’,” Barton said, from his spot sprawled on Romanoff’s legs, “But have you talked to Rhodes yet?”

The question was apparently directed at Rogers, who sighed. Tony was quick to note Barnes next to him, looking for all he cared like he didn’t care to be there at all. He maintained enough proximity to his best friend for no risk of questions asked, yet he was too stiff and too focused on the screen while in fact not paying any attention to the movie. Tony was surprised, trained ex-assassins and ex-militaries as most of them were, at how nobody noticed this.

(Or maybe they did. And chose to ignore it.)

“He says it’s not in his place to give us the access codes. And neither is, uh, acting messenger boy.” Sam let out a cynical laugh. “He says if we want to talk to him, we’ll have to go to him ourselves.”

Barton raised his arms in the air. “He won’t let us talk to him! The stick in his ass got even deeper after what happened in Leipzig.”

“Clint—”

“Look, his fragile little ego got Hulk smashed, and Hulk wasn’t even there. We gotta handle this before shit hits the fan again, Cap.”

“Thor said—”

“I know what Thor said about this Thanos guy. That’s not the shit I was referring to.”

Rogers, for no change whatsoever, looked confused.

“We wounded his pride,” Romanoff clarified. “We wounded his pride, and we don’t know where he is or what he’s up to. He took Ross out of the Accords to be monitored by the Colonel instead, as we know, who won’t tell us if Tony’s even in the premises.”

She pushed Barton off her to sit up and stare straight at the Captain.

“Tony is dangerous and reckless when his pride is on the line, so we have to take control of the situation before it becomes one.”

Almost imperceptibly, Barnes shifted on the couch. Rogers didn’t see.

“What do you mean?”

“She means, maybe he’s finding a way to bench us before the big game,” Barton answered, looking at the ceiling. “Maybe this whole ‘welcome home’ thing is a ruse to keep us in the dark. Maybe we should get back on the run before he gets those arrest warrants ready. Maybe we should be gearing up for another Ultron situation. He’s too arrogant to trust us.”

Barton opened his mouth to continue, but what Tony and the others heard came in a voice that definitely wasn’t his.

“Maybe you’re all too arrogant to be trusted.”

Barnes didn’t even look away from the movie as he said it. Everybody stood stock still. It was like the tide receded at his words, the dead giveaway to an incoming tsunami.

Rogers was the sounding alarm. “What?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Barton asked, too taken aback to look insulted. Romanoff wore the exact same face he did. It was almost comical.

Barnes took his time replying. He was still ‘fixated’ on the movie.

“There ain’t no ‘welcome home’ ruse. Hell, there wasn’t even a ‘welcome home’, for starters, so I don’t know what you’re even on about,” he said, with an honest to God laugh. “And I really don’t know why you expected one.”

“We signed the Accords,” Rogers stated, a perceived cold fact. “We agreed to his terms—”

“No, he agreed to yours, punk.”

“Am I actually listening to this?” Lang asked, effectively voicing Tony’s thoughts.

“Buck, you of all people should know that we can’t trust the—”

“You ain’t above the law, Steve.” Barnes finally tore his eyes from the screen to stare at his best friend’s. His voice was ice. “You ain’t above 192 countries. If you can’t accept limitations, you’re no better than the bad guys.”

Tony’s sharp gasp synched with Team Cap’s.

“You’re defending Stark?” Barton asked, sounding as skeptical as Tony felt. “You, of all people?”

That’s it, no more tea from Strange. He was absolutely not witnessing this.

“Buck.”

“Steve,” Barnes mocked.

Rogers blinked, before his face contorted into something like anger. Tony wasn’t sure.

“Bucky, he tried to kill you!”

“I killed his parents!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Barton jumped off the couch. “What the fuck?”

“Okay, what?”

The rest of the team, including Maximoff but not Romanoff, reacted like this was big news.

“That wasn’t—!”

“Yes, it was. No, shut the fuck up, Steven Grant Rogers,” Barnes growled, and Tony couldn’t for the life of him believe his eyes and ears. “I killed his parents. I fuckin’ killed his parents, that was me, brainwashed or not. Their death is on my hands and I take full blame and responsibility for what I did.”

“Hold up a sec—” Wilson started, but Barnes wasn’t done.

“But you, Steve, didn’t take no fucking blame or responsibility. You knew it had been me, and you didn’t tell him. You knew it hadn’t been an accident from the start, and you didn’t tell him. Didn’t you say you were friends?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then what the hell, Steve—”

“How was I supposed to tell him?” Rogers finally snapped. “How could I say it? How do you say that to someone? Buck, you’re my friend—”

“So was he, damn it!”

Tony could feel his eyes growing progressively wider.

“You’re my friend, I was protecting you!” There was actual betrayal in Rogers’ face. “If I told him, he would have gone after you!��

“Would he?” Barnes gestured around vaguely. “I’m standin’ right here, in his house, per his invite, and not once has he tried to pick up where we left off.”

“Not yet,” Lang corrected. “He doesn’t because he’s smart enough not to mess with you, seeing as that would mean messing with us.”

And then Barnes’ face, ever so calculatingly blank, stretched in the most scornful smirk Tony had ever seen.

“Oh, he’s smart alright. But that ain’t why. Lord knows he could kick your asses on his own if he needed to. He certainly kicked mine and Steve’s.”

“Okay, what?” Wilson—it had been Wilson—repeated.

“When did this happen?” Maximoff asked, right back to Stark-Hate mode.

Both Rogers and Barnes fell into silence, one out of guilt and one out of sheer anger.

“You didn’t tell them about Siberia.” It wasn’t a question.

“Siberia?”

“Siberia?”

“What happened in Siberia?”

Tony could never be sure watching through video feed as he was, despite the fine quality of his installed surveillance, but the expression Barnes now had struck too close to the one he’d associated with the Winter Soldier.

Rogers did make an effort to explain, surprisingly. “Tony came to us after Leipzig. As a friend. He… he found out the truth. Lashed out, attacked Bucky. I stepped in and it… it just went downhill from there.”

“What do you mean, ‘downhill’?” It was Romanoff who asked, at a loss to make a difference.

Rogers took too long to come up with his response. Barnes beat him to it.

“He tried to kill him.” Perceived cold fact. “He crushed his arc reactor, then left him to die in the cold.”

He was met with silence, underlaid with the movie in the background. Barnes got up.

“I already watched Pulp Fiction last week,” he informed, then promptly left.

In his lab, Tony watched him go. The moment Barnes was out of frame, he turned off all monitors. Left himself in complete darkness.

What. The actual. Fuck.

[hydrospanners]

a writing year in review: 2k18 edition

So I’m taking a minute to look back at all the writing I did this year and it has been a pretty spotty year for fanfic for me. Lots of long, blank spaces between weird surges of productivity. But! I did a lot of work on my original projects and also the boring adult responsibilities in my life (I changed jobs three times!!! I changed my name!!! I started going to therapy!!!!) and I pushed out some fic I really liked this year in spite of all that so, all things considered, I’m calling this one a win.

Without further ado, here is the breakdown of all the fic I’ve written this year plus a sad breakdown all of the geriatric WIPs looking at me with their big sad eyes, crossing their fingers for 2019. Hiding most of it under a cut because the rankings and WIP snippets got long.

2k18's Publication Stats for Fun & Profit:

This year I published 16 fanfics, all but one for SWTOR. 10 were brand new, started and finished in 2018, and 6 were old WIPS that have been marinating for Force only knows how long. That number is down from the 29 fics I published in 2017, but close to the 14 I published in 2016. 2015 was only 3 fics and 2014 was only 2. I have a total of 64 works published on AO3.

This year I published 34559 words for an average of about 2160 words per fic. This is extremely above my overall average of about 930 words per fic with a combined total of 59569 words published since I started posting fic publicly back in 2014.

So the number of fics may be lower this year but the number of words total and the average words in the fics I did publish went up! Please enjoy a review of the shit people liked most according to AO3 and then the stuff I personally liked most because I'm allowed to like my own writing, sue me.

2k18's Most Read Fics:

1. spoonful of sugar: Everyone gets sick sometimes; even big damn heroes. These are vignettes about the Jedi Knight's crew getting sick, getting treated, and getting better. (SWTOR)

I started writing this one when I got really sick during the summer of 2017 and I finally finished it this year! There's another part that I cut because it got way out of control that I'd like to one day add back in as a second chapter but I am okay with calling this one complete and maybe never doing that. This one is a nice combo of funny and a little bit sweet that I think is refreshing, like a cold, fruity drink on a hot summer's day. Here is my very favorite line from this whole fic because it is so delightfully dumb:

“Scourge,” Rhese tries and fails to sound as though he has some degree of command over his own voice right now. “Get off my dick.”

2. filling the table: They have a saying back on Corellia that the only way you can ever really know a man is by taking his credits. They also have a saying that you should never play cards with a Corellian because Corellians always cheat, but she's betting Doc never heard that one. (SWTOR)

I think I started this one all the way back in like 2014 or 2015. I can't remember now but it was a long time ago and this piece of shit has morphed a million times since then. I must have rewritten the ending about a million times.

I really wanted to capture the desperation of the Balmorran Resistance while I was doing the character work with this, the sense of limited resources and hard living, and I am pretty happy with the result. I'm also pretty happy with the characterization work here, the little snippets they are both revealing to each other and the bigger snippets they aren't. I'm still not entirely happy with the white spaces in this one. I feel like I was a little too sparse and there are lots of places that don't flow if you don't already know what isn't being said, but I am more or less happy with this one! Here is my favorite bit because of the doublespeak foreshadowing their future relationship that was definitely on purpose:

Four hands later, she’s fifty credits richer and Doc is rooting around in his pocket for something to scribble another IOU on. She knows he’ll never make good on it, but Rea’s happy to accept his empty promises if it keeps him playing the game. She’s overdue for a bit of fun.

3. take back what the kingdom stole:  Alliance Commander Nirea Velaran has always had a talent for burning bridges. When Theron comes to her after Nathema to pay for his sins, she finds herself wondering whether some bridges can't be repaired. (SWTOR)

Hey look! Something I started and finished in the same calendar year!! This one grew out of a very stupid joke that I ended up not even making until the end of the fic. At first I wanted to draw that bit, but I got frustrated with my lacking artistic talent so I wrote it instead and it turned into one of my fave things I've written. It has nice scenery and character growth and intimate friendships that have a real impact on their emotional lives! Hurt feelings aren't just for romance fam!! Anyway here's my favorite bit because it's one of the most Rea moments I've ever written:

He shoved her off his shoulder none-too-gently, scowling as he looked skyward, as if searching for another fleet of hostile ships to arrive and grant him the sweet release of death. When none came, he settled for another hearty gulp of whiskey. He had to be halfway to knackered by now. “You’re insufferable,” he grumbled.

“I know.” She smiled a smile that felt damn near genuine and collapsed back against the grass, swinging her legs out over the crevasse.

“I don’t even feel bad about all this anymore.” Theron complained. “You deserve it.”

Rea only laughed. A real laugh, all the way up from her belly, and it felt so fucking good.

Theron looked at her from the corners of his bloodshot eyes, suspicious and too clever by half. “Fuck,” he swore, shaking his head. “You just mindfucked me, didn’t you?”

2k18 Author’s Choice:

1. when the wicked play. After witnessing his first real lightsaber duel, Doc reflects on the contradictions of what the Jedi are supposed to be and the realities of fighting a war. (SWTOR)

This might be one of my very favorite things I've written ever. In case it wasn't clear by now, I am pretty preoccupied with making myself feel the weight of the violence and uncertainty and war that plagues you in this game. It all feels so clean and sanitary in the game because it's a game, but it's something I always want to explore and make visceral in the stories I tell about the game. I am also obsessed with Jedi and the mythos and conflicting ideas that must surround them inside the story's universe. This was a fun way to marry the two and do a bit of character work at the same time. I'm also pretty proud of this one structurally, with how contained and bookended it is. [high fives self] Anyway here's my favorite part because it's some of the only action I've written that feels like it captures the brutal urgency of how I imagine actual lightsaber combat and also says a little bit about my girl Rea via the way she fights:

Rea is little more than a blur of blue light as she collides with the Sith across the field, her sabers swinging too fast for Doc’s eyes to track. She’s hammering her enemy from every side, pushing him back and back and back. Her assault is savage and relentless and there is nothing like grace or elegance in any of it. It isn’t beautiful; it’s violence. Ugly, brutal violence.

The whole thing is over in less than a minute.

Blue meets red meets blue meets blue meets blue meets red and then the Sith’s head is hitting the floor with a muffled thump. It happens so abruptly Doc doesn’t even realize it’s ended until the rest of the body collapses a heartbeat later.

2. shadows settle on the place that you left. In the wake of her father’s death, Nyria Ryder tries to reconcile the man she knew with the shadow he left hanging over her. (Mass Effect: Andromeda)

Look! Something that isn't SWTOR! (The only thing I wrote this year that wasn't for SWTOR.) I have a whole bunch of feelings about Alec Ryder and had a really good time porting Rea over to this game and seeing the ways his presence in her life altered who she is and the ways that it didn't. Also I have a lot of feelings about SAM. This is probably peak self-indulgence but I still feel like this is some efficient sketching of Nyria's character and Alec's and their particular relationship and I'm pretty proud of it. Also I'm always a slut for complicated familial relationships. Here is my favorite bit because it's such a nice illustration of who Ria is and an important turning point for her character:

She decided to be kinder to SAM than the universe had been to her. He was her brother, just as much as Rhys, and she was all he had. She would have to make sure herself was enough.

“He believed in us both,” she told him what he needed to hear, even though it wasn’t true. Then she made a promise she could not keep, because she knew he needed that too: “You and me are going to figure this thing out. Just you watch. We’re gonna make Alec proud.”

3. take back what the kingdom stole:  Alliance Commander Nirea Velaran has always had a talent for burning bridges. When Theron comes to her after Nathema to pay for his sins, she finds herself wondering whether some bridges can't be repaired. (SWTOR)

All the same stuff I said above applies here still. Glad we can all agree this one was nice.

State of the WIPs

Just for fun I did a dive into my WIP folder to see what I'm setting myself up for in 2019! Only it wasn't very fun at all because there is so much really old stuff in here!!!!!! Good luck to future me because past me really left you with the bag girl! Good luck carrying the weight of hopes and dreams and stories unfulfilled!!

I have a total of 48 fics in progress right now. The fandom breakdown is as follows, ranked from the most to the least: Star Wars: The Old Republic (35), Dragon Age (8), Mass Effect: Andromeda (4), Fallout 4 (1). And because I'm a masochist, I looked at the dates on all this shit too. Here's the breakdown of what year all of these things were started:

2014: 4 fics

2015: 9 fics

2016: 15 fics

2017: 11 fics

2018: 9 fics

That sound you hear is me sobbing in the distance. 2014!!! What the fuck!!!!! I am gonna finish those four fics this year if it kills me. We aren't living like this anymore. Please enjoy some samples from the WIP folder with absolutely no context:

“You carry sleeping pills in your pocket?”

“For my wife. Maybe you’ve met her? About this high--” Doc raised his hand half a foot over his own head “--brown hair, blue eyes, great ass.”

Ignoring the commentary on his sister’s figure and the extreme overestimation of her height, Rhese nodded. “I may have seen her around.”

“Well if you see her again, you tell her to come home. Her family’s worried.”

Do you hear that Rea? Your family is worried. Rhese wondered if she could feel their concern, their anguish. Was she searching for them as they searched for her? She’d always been good at hiding, but she’d never vanished completely before. A hole in the Force where her warm, fervent energy should have been.

He felt cold. Really alone for the first time in his life. Careful what you wish for, Liss had always said. You might just get it.

Ossus is important.

Rea feels it when she falls out of hyperspace, that shift, that tug of something just behind her navel. The familiar weight of destiny, settling like a stone in the pit of her stomach. It leaves her breathless, white-knuckled and gripping the shuttle’s controls, her skin prickling under the cold caress of dread.

She wasn’t expecting this story to have a happy ending—a colony of Jedi on the eve of war? she’s danced that dance enough times to know the steps by now—but she wasn’t expecting anything so bad as the draw of destiny.

Fate has never been anything but cruel to her. Feeling it here, now? This is going to be worse than she imagined.

This is how you deal with failure.

You just do.

You get up in the morning and brush your teeth. You train until your legs wobble beneath you. You choke down your nutripaste and ask Simms about his niece. You congratulate Tarinik on her promotion. You laugh too loud at Vortena’s shit jokes. And when Beniko’s eyes follow a little too close, you blow her a kiss like it doesn’t matter at all.

You keep moving forward because standing still will kill you. Because life is a race and if you slow down for even a second, death will catch up.

Nirea Velaran is not ready to die.

She is not maleficarum, but she is changed. Something is awake inside her now, and the whispers are louder each time she touches the Fade. Sweet, coaxing whispers full of promises. Some of them sound like her mother.

Take care of your brother, Niria. You’re all he’s got.

In the morning, Qarric wakes with a pounding head and an empty sleeve. He never asks, but he watches her more sharply, reprimands her more often, demands more of her in training.

When she is fourteen, blade tucked into the top of her worn boot, he gives her a warning. “You aren’t as strong as you think,” he says. “No one is.”

“Is it much farther?” Ria jabbed the bladed end of her stave--a fancy enchanted thing Vivienne had insisted on--into the sodden ground and squinted through the trees, praying for a glimpse of the promised coast. The air smelled of salt and death and the sea, but she hadn’t seen a single crashing wave yet.

“A few more miles yet,” Blackwall answered irritably. Ria had elected to blame the weather for his foul mood. “Same as it was five minutes ago, Your Worship.”

“And five minutes before that,” Varric added.

“Conditions are much safer inside the ship, Nyria.”

“Didn’t come all the way out here to be safe, SAM.” Another rock plinked hollowly against the wall of the prefab. “We came to see new planets and shit. That’s what I’m doing.”

“There is not much to see at night.”

“Not much to see during the day either. Sure as hell nothing worth dying for.” She huffed a bitter not-quite-laugh.

She spoke before he could even open his mouth to ask the question. “You’re overthinking it, little brother.”

“We’re twins,” he said, mostly out of habit. “And I’m taller.”

“Your hair is taller.”

“This is serious, Nyria.”

“So is your hair.” She reached out almost absent-mindedly to ruffle it, eyes still fixed on her omni-tool, but he dodged out of the way.

[theoriesontheory]

And I Get Up Again I Get Up Again I - (how I fell in love with producing again/the making of ‘overdue conversations’ pt. 3)

When I got home, the morning I decided to start my project, after going and getting my morning coffee I found that I had turned some internal dialogue into the intro of a song. The lines “where have you been? You’ve been lost inside you head” sung by my computer/the creative parts of myself to me seemed like an interesting place to start a song. I quickly recorded a voice memo. 

found_sound.mp3

·

overdue conversation - voice memo

Even on that memo I sensed that this track was going to be a lot of different things because even in the two sections I had vaguely worked out in my head, the feeling was very different. The ever-changing feeling of this song has become what makes it stand out as unique to me when I look at what I have made so far. The reason it moves from section to section, constantly introducing new musical ideas rather than establishing one that we keep coming back to is this song was composed as it took shape.

What I mean is I made one of the synths in the intro using the mac start up noise (a little nod to the idea that my muse from within my computer is talking to me) and added a second subtle synth part and recorded scratch vocal for that part there. Then I laid down the 808 layer and some basic drums for the first section and recorded that section. And so, I progressed through the entire song. This meant that I was writing melodies and lyrics based on what I felt in the moment of creating the track. Initially I thought the song was going to take a more negative slant, the initial working title being ‘l0ser’ but the remember line turned it for me. I have been doing a lot of introspection recently and trying to document the things I think while I am at various points of mental health. This helps me put my thoughts into perspective and offers insights into triggers and, when used in moderation can be a place to draw ideas for lyrics from. When the line “remember, remember what you said when you were all alone” while it came from somewhere in my brain took me to nights where I felt like the world was falling down but I got back up. I got up because I have gotten up before and I have made promises to myself to keep getting up. The vocal performance on the bridge was completely improvised in a scratch take and the version that I use on the track was the second one I performed, it came from inside of me and that kind of reflected the point that I have landed on with this track.

For such a long time I have felt frozen by the pressure I put on myself to make things that blow people away. Ironically, I was taking what drew me to hyperpop initially, the raw, emotional, hyper nature of it and I was trying to make it fit in what I thought a perfect hyperpop song could be, and that wasn’t a fun way to make stuff. Eventually, through reflection, making stuff and just committing to what I wanted to achieve which was no longer a perfect song but being happy as a creator and artist with what I have made. I am reminded by some funny but poignant comments made by 100 gecs in an interview with pitchfork. Dyllan Brady said that his barometer for if a song was good was, he framed it in the context of his friend coming up to him and showing him the track. (2020) Most stuff, if you said your friend made it you would think was great and encourage their career. That is the new energy I am trying to manifest for my critique of my own work. The tempo change is a primary example of this kind of thinking. Tempo changes in my head are often corny and there are rules (in western music theory tradition) as to how you do them. Even in contemporary music there are rules about changing the tempos of songs in clubs for transitions. I wrote off drastic and sudden tempo changes as poor writing and bad technique. But as I was working on this song, I realised that the two sections I had in my head didn’t fit together if I tried to have them be at all the same speed, so I decided to have a set tempo for the intro and outro and bump up the tempo for the body of the piece. Once I had all the parts together, I went through a process of simplifying some parts, reducing them to what it needs to be added to the song. I have been trying to do this kind of minimalization in parts of songs because I tend to try and be impressive and show how much music I can do, which in some cases is the perfect thing to do but you shouldn’t have all parts of your song doing it at the same time. My initial kick and 808 pattern were quite busy and produced an off kilter, swinging style rhythm that was interesting to listen to, but in the context of this track I didn’t need a rhythm section that was super interesting and academically put together, I needed drums that were big and loud and fun and bass to go alongside.

Once all the parts were simplified to what they needed to be, I started to mix and process all of the signals. This is often where I find my experience block come in. While I have been working in the software for 10 years, only the past 5 have been focused years and even then, only in the past 2 have I begun to experiment with anything beyond recording acoustic music. I have been trying to listen to other songs in the genre to go to as reference tracks, for example I really like the way aldn treats their vocals. [a particular favourite of mine are the two different vocal treatments in: what was the last thing you said]. And the big, distorted section at the end of underscores spoiled little brat acted as a big inspiration for the breakdown section at the end of my track. Using these reference points, I took what I understand about audio editing (which to be fair is a solid amount and I try and learn more every time I do it) and tried to make the sounds I had “fit”. The most important part for me was not necessarily that the track sounded exactly like another song but more that all the parts of the song fit sonically together and, to draw from Dyllan, if my friend came up to me and said that they did this would I think it was sick and encourage them to do more? It was at this point I had two primary problems that took me some time and multiple attempts to figure out. The first was the vocal mix. Like I have mentioned before, auto-tune is not the magic bullet that a lot of critics seem to paint it as, I view it as another instrument that I have had to learn how to play, and the way I play it is through a combination of my voice and my computer. One thing I really like about vocals in hyperpop tunes is that they are very clean. They are obviously manipulated and modulated in various ways, but they are always clean, and clear. I struggled to get this sound until I was watching a video from Red Bull Music Lab where producer Kenny Beats and T-Pain make a song together - Kenny Beats and T-Pain Cook Up an Instant R&B Classic | Red Bull Remix Lab

It’s a video I have watched before but it’s funny and fun and inspiring to see two great artists work together and I just happened to notice that in the effects chain for T-Pain’s vocals, before anything else there was a gate, set very low with a low return. I saw it and instantly understood why it was there, the job of the auto-tune the way I use it is it essentially processes the entire voice, synthesising what was once an analogue recording. However, without the gate, not only was it having that effect on the lyrics being sung but also on the various ambient noise picked up from recording in my bedroom. This along with some creative EQ work and compression got the vocals to a place I was finally happy with.

The second issue was the bass part. After working on my All Eyes on Me Cover for a morning I returned to ‘overdue conversations’ and found that the bass part was sticking out in an obnoxious way, downing out the mix and not feeling settled. I then spent a couple of hours trying different sounds, moving the octave of the part, changing the part, changing other parts. I worked for a few hours before I gave up, and then worked on it a bit, and then gave up, and then worked on it a bit, and then gave up. Even that night as I was eating dinner, I had 808 patterns in my head. The next morning, I loaded up the session and had a listen. Aside from re-recording the pattern in some of the sections to give what was already there some space and let most of the drive and momentum come from the kick pattern and some mix/processing adjustments, what I had wasn’t that bad at all. Reflecting on this, I think it was a combination of mental and physical (ear) fatigue, that day being full of making stuff and listening and trying things and having ideas, as well as instantly comparing what I had at that point to the finished cover that I had just posted to social media and was already getting some love for. After taking a night to sleep on my ideas and coming back with fresh ears the next day I realised that what I thought was going to have to be a full re-record of everything late in the game turned into some subtle tweaks.

So, with all of that said, here is a finalised version of ‘overdue conversations’ which is pretty much ready for commercial/official release but I want to have a few songs put together before I release anything on public channels.

found_sound.mp3

·

'overdue conversations'

References:  Patel, P. (Interviewer). (2020, November). Pitchfork Review: 100 Gecs and the Mystery of Hyperpop. [Audio Podcast]. Get Wired. https://open.spotify.com/episode/1UnB4gNxTsInfjur0iVXEP?si=NXGfknGtTqSId4z-XhKNeg&dl_branch=1

[a-splash-of-stucky]

I Know This Game | Ten

Pairings: Bucky x Foster!Reader

Summary: One year later. 

Warnings: Talk of depression and mental health issues. Angst (it’s mild, I promise). Implied sexual content.

Notes: Takes place exactly one year after the events in Chapter 9. I think we all secretly wanted this ending to happen? No? Just me? Okay, well, enjoy it anyway. Title from ‘Hopeless’ by Halsey.

IKTG Masterlist

Today is a momentous day.

That thought has been running through your head on a continuous loop, like a song stuck on repeat.

You’re up to your eye-balls in work, but your concentration is broken when the door to your office creaks open and Maria steps in, a stack of folders in the crook of one arm, a mug of tea in her other hand. Leaning back in your chair, you stretch your arms over your head to work out the kinks in your shoulders.

“Dr Strange has just left. He asked for me to pass these to you,” Maria says, as she places the folders in front of you and sets the mug on your floral coaster. “Dr Cho is finishing in about five minutes,”. Her demeanour is brusque as always as she relays messages and updates from your colleagues.

It’s a scene that takes place at the end of everyday, something so routine that you know exactly how many steps Maria will take from the door to your desk. But today, something feels off, different.

Or maybe, that’s just you.

“Thanks, Maria,” you murmur absentmindedly, “I don’t need anything else from you today, so if Helen’s got nothing for you either, then you can clock off for the night,”. Maria nods curtly, then pivots on her heel and stalks out through your door.

How funny. You remember her executing that same move -- with the same level of calculated precision, of course -- a year ago.

You take a sip of your tea and marvel at how drastically your professional life has changed in the last year. Such changes are not just limited your work, obviously; every aspect of your life has undergone significant changes in the last few months, but you’re especially proud of the journey your professional life has taken. You’re no longer the person you used to be. Things have changed for the better, and you can’t help but note how starkly opposed your present- and past-selves are.

For one thing, you’ve taken on more responsibilities within your clinic. Your practice has come far in the last year, gaining recognition as an excellent rehabilitation resource for war veterans. Due to the influx of patients clamouring to see you, not to mention the variety of traumas they’ve experienced, you’ve been forced to employ more specialised personnel.

Your first hire was Dr Stephen Strange, an arrogant bastard who you’ve grudgingly come to accept as a colleague. On occasion, his cock-sure attitude, condescending way of talking and snide remarks still grate on your nerves, but he is, undoubtedly, gifted at his craft. Strange is a physical therapist, working with patients that have sustained traumatic physical injuries. He may not be the nicest of people to work with, but he is an excellent physiotherapist, so you’re willing to retain some semblance of professionalism around him.

Dr Helen Cho, by contrast, is far more likeable, and, though you wouldn’t exactly call her a friend, she is most definitely more than just a colleague; a true pleasure to be around. Helen runs a group therapy session once a day, aimed at veterans who are seeking help, but are not yet brave enough to see a doctor on their own. She is an expert in up-and-coming alternative treatments to PTSD, and absolutely skilled in her field of work.

With a sigh, you flip through the stack of folders, dreading the task of inputting these notes into your digital archives. Paperwork can wait until tomorrow, you decide. It’s not like you’re going to get anything done right now, anyway, not with the butterflies in your stomach fluttering around as restlessly as they currently are. You pack up your things, switch off the lights in your office, then wave cheery goodbye to Maria on your way out.

—————————

The train, as per usual, arrives five minutes late. Because you’ve left the clinic a little earlier than normal, you’ve managed to avoid the worst of the rush hour and — bonus — snagged a seat for yourself. It’s about a twenty minute ride back to your station, so you settle in, lean your head against the window and shut your eyes, hoping that maybe you can doze off for a bit.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, killing that dream.

Nat: Barnes is going mad

You smile to yourself, thumb hovering over the keyboard to type an answer when, not seconds later, another message comes through.

Steve: Hope you’re coping better than he is

Bucky must have worked himself into quite the state for both Nat and Steve to text you about it.

After tapping out a quick reply to them both, you turn your phone to silent mode, then slip it back into your pocket. Now that thoughts of Nat and Steve have cropped up in your head, it’s hard to shove them away.

You recall the day you went back to the compound for the first time. You were apprehensive — understandably so. Steve was the first person to greet you and he had taken it particularly bad. He’d been your first and closest friend out of the Avengers, so of course your leave would have had a severe impact on him. 

You just weren’t aware of how severe it would turn out to be.

Steve had practically thrown himself at your feet, wrapped his gangly arms around your legs and sobbed his heart out. He blubbered a thousand apologies as you clumsily stroked his hair, trying to get him to calm down. It was quite the shock to see the normally-composed Cap tear down his barriers so publicly, letting his vulnerabilities show. You’d been overwhelmed.

Tony, of course, had tried inject humour into the situation — you distinctly remember him calling Steve a ‘melting Capsicle’ — to no avail. Even Sam had looked pretty taken aback by Steve’s rare display of raw emotion. But, Steve’s breakdown encouraged everyone on the team to come clean with you, and apologies were said all around.

Later that day, you and Natasha had a long chat with each other. She apologised for her role in deceiving you, and you apologised for ever thinking about her in a negative light. Nat was also quick to assure you that Bucky had never done anything sexual with her whilst you were in a relationship with him.

The whole day had been surreal, to say the least.

It had been difficult, initially, trying to find your place within the group once you’d unearthed their big secret. Things had been awkward, conversations had been stilted, and for a while, it seemed as if there was no way you could ever regain the closeness that you once had. But, over time, you patched up the canvas that held you all together, weaving new threads of friendship, one memory at a time.

Though you keep in contact with the team, you make a point to not see them too often. You update them of new developments in your life, even join them for a movie night every now and then, but keep your distance besides that. These last twelve months have been a journey of self-discovery, a year for you to become a stronger, more in dependent woman.

Nat teasingly called it your year of self-love. The phrase has been truer in more ways than one; not being in a relationship means that you’ve had to get…creative in taking care of your bodily needs.

One of the discoveries you made on this so-called ‘journey’ of yours is the wonderfully therapeutic act of baking. You’ve never been one to cook — let alone bake — before this, but when the hobby suggestion was given to you, you thought no harm in giving it a try. Since then, you’ve mastered an impressive array of delicacies, ranging from the humble chocolate chip cookie, to the far more extravagant mixed-berry pavlova.

Besides baking, you’ve also been making a conscious effort to take a break and relax. Your last proper holiday happened before you started working with the Avengers, so the trip you took with Jane and Darcy to Bali was well overdue. It had been nice, kicking back by the poolside or beach, drink in hand, until the sun’s rays became too hot and you had to retreat into the coolness of your villa. Entertainment was not hard to come by; an exuberant Frenchman by the name of Dernier was completely enamoured with Darcy, and you and Jane spent much of your time giggling over his efforts to ask her out on a date.

You’d also taken a spa trip with Wanda and Peggy — an all-expense-paid one, at that, courtesy of Tony Stark. It was his way of saying sorry to you. It had been a retreat filled with massages, classical music, and many an intriguing chat with the girls.

But beyond vacations and new hobbies, you’re also striving to remember to cut yourself some slack in your daily life. It’s all the little things, really, like getting a facial or manicure every now and then, going on shopping sprees with the girls, not heaping too much work onto your plate; minor lifestyle changes, that have all hugely improved your headspace.

—————————

The apartment is empty when you arrive, which is both a good thing and a bad thing. On the one hand, it means that you can get ready for tonight in peace. On the other hand, it means that you’ll be alone with your thoughts for longer, with no one to distract you. You head into your bedroom, strip off your clothes, dump them in the laundry hamper, then jump into the shower.

You’d long ago decided not to tell anyone what your final decision would be. In part, this was because you believed that you needed to have a talk with Bucky first, before announcing the final outcome to everyone else. Mostly though, you decided to keep your musings to yourself because you’re not supposed to even have thought about the situation until today.

But of course, with you being you, you couldn’t help but dwell on the future of your relationship with Bucky for the better part of the last month. A lot of deliberation has gone into planning your next step; you’ve had many a long-distance phone call with Jane, and several lengthy discussions with Wanda and Peggy. Even Steve weighed in on the subject, at one point.

The thing is, there’s a lot more to consider now. You have a history with Bucky and the rest of the team. You have a practice that you can’t abandon, not when it’s just starting to pick up; it’s been your dream to open a clinic of your own ever since you completed your doctorate.

So many arrangements had been devised and discarded, in your quest to come up with the perfect solution to fit your needs. Of course, you still need to talk to Bucky to figure out how his needs fit into the equation, but you’re at least comforted by the fact that you have a solid game plan to adhere to when you see him tonight.

You haven’t seen Bucky in over two months. The two of you have been meeting sporadically over the past year. Sometimes he’ll take you out for a meal, sometimes you’ll go to the compound just to say hi. You have a chat over the phone with him once a month or so, just to catch up on things. Though you’re not as close with him as you used to be, there has never been any tension or ill-feelings between you two. What you have with Bucky is something special; even if you’ve gone weeks without talking, you can pick up right where you left off, no awkwardness or fumbling around in the process.

Bucky has kept his promise, not pushing or pressuring you to make a decision before you were ready to make one. In fact, discussion of your future, whatever it may hold, hasn’t even cropped up in a conversation — that is after all, what tonight is all about. You’re glad that Bucky has stayed true to his word; you’ve needed the last year to find your footing in the world, and that would not have been possible if you’d been in a relationship.

—————————

After swathing yourself in an enormous fluffy towel, you pad over to your closet and start rifling through your clothes, trying to decide what to wear. You’re aiming for something that is the right balance of casual and fancy, without looking like you tried too—

Wait. Why are you getting so stressed out about this? It’s only Bucky. He’s seen you looking worse.

In the end, you opt for a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt with a dark grey sweater on top. When you catch your reflection in the mirror, you laugh, realising that this outfit is not dissimilar from the one you pulled on all those months ago. To make yourself look a tad more presentable, you decide to put on a little bit of makeup.

Jane calls you just as you’re adding the finishing touches.

“Y/N!” she chirps.

“Hey Jane, what’s up?” you answer, switching the phone to speaker-mode and setting it on top of your dresser so that you can apply your lipstick.

“Just calling to wish you good luck,” she sing-songs.

You chuckle. “Thanks, I think I’m gonna need it,”.

“Nervous?” Jane teases.

“A little,” you admit, “I know it’s just Bucky, but it’s…it’s Bucky. It’s a big discussion we’re having and I—I don’t know if I’m making the right choice,”.

“Well, I’ll support you no matter what,” Jane assures you, “If it’s any consolation, I think you’re gonna do great, Y/N. You’re a stronger person than you were 365 days ago. I guess all those sessions with Dr Banner really paid off, huh?”

“Yeah, they really did,” you murmur.

After the events of the day which you and those closest to you simply refer to as R-Day (short for reveal day), you realised that perhaps talking to someone would be of benefit to you. An impartial third party, somebody who could give you an unbiased external opinion. When you resigned from your position as the Avengers’ private therapist, Dr Banner had been employed as your replacement. Pepper — somehow — found out that you were seeking psychological help for yourself and immediately referred you to him, even going as far as offering to take care of the bill.

That woman will never fail to astound you with her capacity for generosity.

Dr Banner had diagnosed you with situational depression, most likely as a result of  the traumatic events of you losing Bucky and the rest of your Avengers family. In hindsight, you, as a trained professional yourself, should have recognised the symptoms; that’s a fact that Peggy continues to give your grief over. You’ve had a few meetings with Dr Banner — nothing extensive, and certainly nothing as intense as the sessions you’ve been trained to deliver — but what talks you have had with him have certainly been helpful. You feel comforted, knowing that the team is in the hands of such a capable man.

“Helloooo? Earth to Y/N? Did you even hear what I just said?” Jane asks, snapping you out of your daze.

“Huh? What? No, I didn’t get it,” you mumble distractedly.

“I said don’t freak out, just say everything that’s on your chest and things will work out fine. If you’re meant to be together, it’s going to happen,” she repeats.

“Easy for you to say,” you grumble, “You’re not the one doing the talking,”.

Jane huffs out a laugh. “I have faith in you,” she says simply, “And I also have a feeling that Bucky will accept whatever decision you make,”.

“I sure hope so,” you sigh.

“Call me afterwards, okay?”

“You got it. Bye Jane,”.

After giving yourself a once-over in the mirror one final time, you grab your purse and step out of your bedroom. Wanda is in the kitchen, work clothes still on, fixing herself a sandwich. She glances up and gives you a smile, which then turns into a small frown when she sees your outfit.

“You’re going to see him?” she asks stiffly.

You nod. “I’m just about to leave,”.

When you told Wanda and Peggy about your night in the diner, suffice it to say, they didn’t immediately believe Bucky’s story. Unlike you, they were not previously in love with him and did not have your deep understanding of his character. They’d seen you after your breakup, when you were at the lowest point in your life, and the memories from that time had left them with a bitter opinion of him. Both felt that Bucky’s story was too far-fetched.

So, in an attempt to convince Wanda and Peggy that Bucky was sincere in his apology, you’d arranged for the three of them to have lunch together. According to Bucky, who called you afterwards, it had been an intense affair, with him getting absolutely grilled by your two closest friends. He hadn’t gone into much detail, but from the slight shakiness to his voice, you could tell that the encounter had terrified him. Bucky had vowed to never get on Peggy or Wanda’s bad side ever again.

Later, Peggy had come back to the apartment and proudly announced that she’d given Bucky a tremendously forceful slap. Typical.

But since then, Peggy has become more accepting of the idea of you and Bucky potentially getting back together. Wanda still has her reservations; she’s always been the more cautious and less trusting of the two.

Now, she steps around the kitchen island and walks over to you, eyes flicking up and down, giving you an appraising glance. “You look good,”, she says, rather abruptly.

“Uh…thanks?” you reply, somewhat taken aback by her bluntness.

Wanda graces you a tiny smile. “Good luck, Y/N. I think I know what your decision might be, and I know nothing I can say will change it, but just — be sure about it, okay?”

“I’m just doing what I think is best for me,”.

“Good,” she says, “That’s all I can ask for,”.

—————————

Scott’s diner is only twenty-five minutes away from your apartment on foot, so you decide to walk it, since you’re still a little bit early, anyway.

The nerves are kicking into high-gear now, butterflies putting on a circus show in your stomach. You’ve been impatiently anticipating this hour for the last week and been an emotional wreck most of that time. In all honesty, thoughts of this day have been hovering in the back of your mind for the past few months. You’re jittery, over-excited, but most of all, nervous — anxious to discover how Bucky will react to your decision. Wondering whether or not he will accept it.

You turn a corner and there in front of you, is Scott’s diner, looking as unimposing as ever. It’s fitting that you’re meeting Bucky here — it’s a place that has significant meaning to the both of you. What’s ironic is that though you as a person have developed so dramatically in the last year, this place has not. Scott has continued to save up for the extensive renovation plans he has in mind, but money is hard to come by, so he makes do with what he has.

Bucky is already there when you arrive, sitting at the same table you sat at a year ago, dressed in jeans and grey henley with a leather jacket on top. His expression brightens when you step into the diner.

“Y/N!” he calls, standing up to greet you, pulling you into a brief hug, “It’s so good to see you,”.

Scott’s new part-time waiter, Peter, dashes over to hand you your menu as you take your seat. 

“It’s great to see you too, Bucky,” you say, your lips quirking up into a gentle smile. He’s nervous, you can tell. Bucky’s hair looks like he’s raked his fingers through it a hundred times, several strands having already fallen out of his little man-bun. There’s an apprehensive flicker in his eyes.

Because today seems to be full of parallels from the past, you and Bucky opt for the exact same dishes that you got last time; him, the pancakes with a double helping of sausages, you, the chocolate chip pancakes and a strong coffee. Sure, pancakes are not exactly typical ‘dinner’ food, but then again, Vision’s pancakes are to die for.

Once Peter’s taken your order and cleared the menus, Bucky chews his lip agitatedly, fretting over what to say. You decide to be the one to break the ice.

“At least we’re talking at a more reasonable hour, this time,” you joke, trying to get a laugh out of him.

It works — the corner of his mouth crooks up into a half-smirk. “Yeah, that’s true. Funny how this place hasn’t changed, right?” Bucky asks, glancing around the diner. It’s busier than it was the last time you were here with him, though two-thirds of the tables are still unoccupied.

“I know. It’s kinda strange being back here,” you say, smiling nervously at him.

“Yeah, I—I’ve thought a lot about today, doll, but I still…well, it’s up to you, isn’t it? This is about you and me talking about…us,” Bucky trails off, voice hesitant, betraying his nerves. You have a feeling that you’re not going to perform much better yourself.

“How’re we doing this?” you ask, “I’ve got…things I want to say—,”.

“So do I,” he interjects.

“—and it’s all planned out in my head and everything, so would you like me to start?”

“Ladies first,” Bucky says, shrugging like he doesn’t care.

You snort. “That’s your attitude to everything in life,” you mutter. Then, for good measure, you add, “Sex included,”.

Bucky’s eyes widen and he bursts out laughing, shoulders shaking with mirth. You can practically see the tension leaving his system, making him more relaxed as the seconds tick by. Your heart feels uplifted, seeing him like this. Bucky scrubs a hand over his eyes, sits up a little straighter and endeavours to look at you with a solemn expression on his face.

He almost succeeds.

One glance at your face, the way you’re barely holding in laughter yourself and he loses it again, chuckling uncontrollably. You giggle with him, mostly to dissipate your giddy nerves. “It feels so weird,” you breathe, “I can’t believe we’re here, having this conversation,”.

Bucky shakes his head and clears his throat as his laughter dies down. “Go on, doll,” he urges, “What did you want to tell me?”. It’s apparent that the nerves are starting to creep back in, taunting the edges of his mind. He clasps his fingers together tightly, focusing on them, rather than you.

You take a deep, steadying breath. “Okay, well, first off, I’m going to ask you to do for me what I did for you,”.

“Which is?” he asks, arching an eyebrow inquisitively.

“To not interrupt me. This mini-speech of mine has been well-planned,” you say. 

“Shit, doll,” Bucky murmurs, “You weren’t kidding about this being a proper chat, eh?”

“Nope,” you reply, “So. Do you promise?”

“Yes,” he replies immediately.

At that exact moment, Peter comes dashing over, two plates of food balancing on one arm, a tray bearing two steaming mugs of coffee in the other. With some fumbling, he manages to set everything down on the table without spilling anything, mutters something that sounds suspiciously like sorry for being a klutz, then scampers off to the kitchen, where he is less likely to drop food into diners’ laps.

The kid’s done that to you before. More times than you’d like to admit.

With the momentary interruption over, you turn your attention back to Bucky, who is stoically cutting up his pancakes, resolutely keeping his gaze trained on his fork. 

You clear your throat. “Before I tell you what…what my decision is, I need you to know this,”. You pause, taking a deep breath to steel your nerves. In the silence, Bucky looks up, meeting your gaze with those unwavering, stunning eyes of his.

There’re no other eyes you’d rather look into. That’s where your home is.

“I still love you,” you blurt out.

His breathing hitches. Saying the words lifts an invisible burden from your shoulders; your chest feels lighter, somehow. You haven’t dared to say those words aloud, not even to yourself.

“Really?” Bucky asks tentatively, breathlessly, his eyes wide and wondrous.

“Yes, Bucky. Really,” you say, lightheaded and dizzy with excitement. “And I mean love love, not just ‘I care about you’ love. Romantic feelings,”. 

Bucky is overjoyed, though he’s fighting to not let the emotions show on his face. You can see the flicker of optimism in his eyes though, like he’s breathed an internal sigh of relief.

It pains you to have to say the next bit.

“Don’t get your hopes up, though,” you say softly. No sooner have the words left your mouth does his expression fall, despondent. “Wait, wait!” you cry, “You haven’t heard the full story. It ends well, I promise,”.

Bucky breathes out a shaky sigh, runs his flesh fingers through his already messy hair. “Okay, doll. Continue,”.

You’re silent for a minute, picking your next words with care as you chew on a mouthful of pancake. It’s strange to have to talk to him like this. The conversations you’ve shared over the last year have been carefree and easy, amiable, almost like old times. Being forced to articulate your thoughts in such a precise manner reminds you of the last time you were in this diner having a serious talk with Bucky.

“I want to try again,” you say finally. It’s a blunt statement, but simplicity is not to be underrated in times like these. “I want to be with you again. I’m…I’m in a much better headspace than I was a year ago. I’m—a better version of myself,” you force yourself to pause, to take another calming breath. The sliver of hope has returned to Bucky’s expression, softened his features and put the sparkle back into his eyes. It is his eyes that you focus on when you next speak. “But things are going to be different this time. They have to be different, if we’re gonna make this work out, Bucky,”.

He nods enthusiastically. “Yeah. In agreement with you on that one,”.

You chew your bottom lip, then blow out a gust of air in a quick whoosh. “Okay, well, for starters, never again. Never keep secrets from me again, I don’t care how big or small they are, never again,” you say firmly. Bucky winces at your unyielding tone, but you power on despite that, because this is the requirement that matters most to you. “I want to be in on your missions, and by that I mean I want to be in the loop. I understand that you have to keep things confidential for security reasons, but you can trust me, Bucky. Besides, if the mission is a big deal for you or me, I think I have a right to know,”.

Bucky shakes his head, a mildly amused smile playing on his plump lips. “I had a feeling you would say something like this,” he admits, “You drive a tough deal, Y/N,”.

“I know,” you reply, “But it’s that or nothing, love,”.

Something is still holding him back, making him unwilling to agree with your terms. You sigh heavily. “The thing is, Bucky,” you say, tone taking on a note of tenderness, “The truth hurts, sometimes. When I—found out…yeah. It hurt me. Hurt like a bitch—,”

“Sorry,” Bucky says automatically.

You smile, “It’s okay. But you’ve got to understand my point, Bucky; the truth hurts, but secrets kill. What you and the rest of the team kept from me? It killed our relationship, my love. I’d rather not see the same thing happen a second time,”.

Bucky is nodding again, slower this time, like he’s deep in thought. “We’ll have to talk to the rest of the team about this,” he says hesitantly, “But I agree with you. Keeping you in the dark is not…it’s not a long term solution. Something needs to change,”.

Relief floods your veins. “You don’t need to worry about me blabbering,” you assure him, “One, that’s not in my nature and two, confidentiality is pretty much my entire life. Have you seen my poker face? My client face is to die for—,”

“Okay, okay,” Bucky laughs, holding a hand up to stop you, the corners of his eyes crinkling with fondness. “I believe you, doll. I get your point. I know you wouldn’t,”.

“Thank you,” you say crisply, “Now, two—,”.

“Oh, there’s more?” he teases

“There’s plenty more. Number two: My practice,”.

“Your clinic?” Bucky asks, cocking his head to the left.

“Yes. My clinic. It is…well, gaining a reputation for itself,” you admit, laughing weakly, a little shy but also proud to talk about this achievement of yours. “Truth be told, I love working there. I want to keep working there,”.

“Of course you—,”

“Which means that,” you say, raising your voice to talk over Bucky as your eyes narrow into a murderous glare, unimpressed by the interruption, “I might be back late. I might…need to bunk with Wanda and Peggy sometimes, to be closer to work. I’m not going to give up something I love just to be with you,”.

You’re reminded of a conversation you had with Jane just a few days after your break-up with Bucky. Her words echo loud and clear, despite the nervous cacophony inside your head.

“Just because the path isn’t clear, or the road is an uphill struggle, doesn’t mean that it’s not feasible. If you love two things, you should be able to have them both,”.

Bucky sighs, smiles wearily. “I know how much it means to you. And, having something that’s yours, your clinic—it’d probably do you good when I’m away on missions and such,”. He hesitates, the reluctance evident in his expression. “Maybe…maybe we can find an alternative location? One that’s a little closer to the compound? I’m sure Tony wouldn’t mind pitching in if you need money for a new space,”.

“Pitching in? He’d probably buy the whole building,” you scoff.

“True,” Bucky concedes, eyes twinkling with the effort of suppressing his laughter. “So what d’you think? Is it a possibility?”

“I’d have to consult with my colleagues, and the move wouldn’t be immediate, but I am open to the idea,” you reply, giving him a smile to soothe his anxiousness.

“Oh good,” he murmurs. A moment of silence passes as the two of you take a few more bites out of your dinner.

“On…a similar train of thought,” you begin, glancing at Bucky through your lashes to make sure that he’s listening, “We come to my next point, which is that I am not returning to be your therapist. Or, well, the team’s therapist,”.

Confusion passes over his features, eyebrows knitting together for a moment, before relaxing again. “We never expected you to,” Bucky says, “You can either be someone’s friend, or their therapist, but you can’t play both roles,”.

You arch an eyebrow, bemused. “Did Sam tell you that?”

Bucky smiles wryly, “Dr Banner, actually. He’s a good doctor. I like him,”.

“I do too,”.

“Oh yeah,” Bucky says, face lighting up with curiosity, “You’ve been seeing him, haven’t you? How’s that going?”

“It’s confidential,” you reply, winking knowingly at him.

Bucky rolls his eyes in amusement. “That all? For number three, I mean,”.

“Yes. Just the fact that I’m not being your therapist anymore,” you reply, mentally dusting your hands off as yet another requirement gets ticked off your list. The next ones are harder, so you take a moment to brace yourself internally, collecting your thoughts before you plunge forward.

“Number four is…I want to start from the beginning again,” you tell him, intently watching Bucky’s face for any indication of his thoughts. “We can’t just jump straight into where we were, what we used to be. It’s been a year and a half, Bucky — you’ve changed, I’ve changed…so doing what we used to do might not work,”

“So what’re you suggesting?” Bucky asks, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back, narrowing his eyes in doubt.

“I’m suggesting that we start all over. I’m talking dates, flowers, chocolates, the whole she-bang,”.

“Wow,” Bucky mutters, eyebrows rising in surprise, “You want to be wooed, huh?”

“With your classic forties charm, sugar,” you quip, mimicking his Brooklyn drawl. The lightness of the moment quickly evaporates when you next speak. “It also means that…I don’t want to move into the compound, just yet. I’ll explain why in a bit, but…if we’re going to be dating, in order for it to be the most authentic it can be, I think us living apart, at least initially, would be good,”.

You can see how heavily your decision weighs on him. It’s not the outcome he would have liked, that much is apparent. Your heart twinges with sympathy and you yearn to wrap your arms around Bucky and kiss the pain away.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, your eyes downcast. It’s not enough; two words will never be enough to convey the full extent of the emotions you feel for him right now, but they are the only two words that come into your mind, the only phrase that even comes close to being adequate.

The corner of his lip twitches. “No. Don’t be,” Bucky says, “It’s—okay. I understand why you’d say that,”. He sighs, leaning back in his chair as he combs his fingers through his hair yet again. “I just—yeah. I know it’s selfish, but I was hoping you’d be ready to jump right back in,” he admits ruefully, “But I see your point. It’s…this is the rational thing to do,”.

“I’m…glad you see where I’m coming from,” you say, relief evident in your tone. This particular condition you knew would be hard for him to accept. In all honesty, you weren’t entirely sure if he would accept it. “I know it’s hard for you. But…what I have to say next is harder,”.

Bucky presses his gloved metal hand over his heart. “I have braced myself,” he says solemnly.

You smile, humoured despite the sombre situation. “Just because we’re getting back together, doesn’t mean…we’ll stay together — aww, no don’t give me that look!” you protest, as the corner of his mouth slip into a frown and a crease develops between his brows.

“Hear me out, okay? I love you,” you say, with all the conviction you can muster, “I really, really, do, with all my heart. I want to make this work, Bucky, but…me saying yes now, is not me saying ‘yes I’ll be with you forever’. Like I said, we’ve changed. It’s part of the reason why I’m not ready to move back into the compound. I want us to date for a bit, see if we’re still compatible and…take it from there,”.

A moment of silence passes. 

“You’re so sensible,” Bucky chuckles, finally. There’s a note wistfulness to his voice, as if he wishes that things didn’t have to be this way. “Again, yes, I see your point. I’m so glad it’s you doing this negotiation business, doll, I just would’a stuffed things up,”.

“So…you’re agreeing to it?”

“If that’s what it takes to make you stay, I’ll do it,” he agrees, as he reaches across the table to take your hand in his. “I’ll fuckin’ pluck the moon out of the skies if that’s what you asked me to do,”.

“Don’t give me ideas,” you mutter.

Bucky tips his head, an acknowledgement that he’s heard you, but makes no further comment for a while, just circles his thumb against your wrist, expression pinched — you can only imagine what thoughts are flying through his head right now.

This is really happening, you realise. The reality of the situation is finally sinking in. This is the moment you’ve been building yourself up to. Though you’ve doubted yourself and questioned your decisions in the last few months, you know that you won’t have any regrets about this. You’re surprised by how content your are, how at peace you’re feeling. 

This feels right. 

This is the right decision. You’ve had your moment of doubt, but talking to Bucky has cleared the skies, blown away the dark, mysterious storm clouds hanging over your head like a bad omen.

There has been nothing you’ve felt more sure about in your entire life. This man — this gorgeous, stunning, kind-hearted soul — sitting in front of you is the person you want to be with.

He’s the person you’re meant to be with.

“Thank you,” Bucky whispers. “Thank you for coming back. I—I’ll do everything I can and more to keep you this time, okay? Remember what I said? I want you to win this game, for once in your life,”.

“Oh darling,” you breathe, “I already have,”.

--------------------------------- Condensed tags: @feelmyroarrrr @valkyeries @hollycornish @buckingoffthebed @moonbeambucky @sanjariti @in-winchester-we-trust @badassbaker @retroasgardian @lostinspace33 @waywardpumpkin @jurassicbarnes @buchonians @katielu-blog @alohabucky @sarahmatthews7 @i-should-probably-be-asleep-rn @toongtii  @barnesdeservestheworld @amrita31199 @amour-quinn @ugh-supersoldiers

[turning-a-nl]

Oh my god I've never seen it described so ACCURATELY.

Everything kind of crashed and burned for me in high school, my brain felt like a worn rubber band and eventually it was stretched too far that it snapped. My little systems weren't sufficient supplements for comprehension anymore and I found myself months behind on homework when I told myself that This Semester was gonna be Different. It was the worst in my history class.

My history teacher was actually dyslexic though and he often talked about it and I found myself relating to a lot of things he said. And that's the first time it started making sense to me, I wasn't lazy or stupid, I have a lot of road blocks where others don't.

One day I eventually got so overwhelmed with all the overdue work that I went to him after class just wanting to communicate that I was having a hard time with the class and I ended up breaking down and telling him that I suspected that I had dyslexia (after doing my own research) and that I felt awful and stupid even though I know stuff I just don't know how to get that out. He was so understanding and was getting a bit emotional himself when we were talking about this and he said that we'd make this class work for me. And as for other classes, I should talk to a guidance counselor.

So I did. And. It was bad. I provided her the evidence I had that I was at the very least having difficulties and she treated me like I was being a hypochondriac off the seeming impression that I didn't look like a troubled teen with a learning disability. She said that my grades certainly didn't reflect any difficulty (despite nearly failing a few classes) and that I was in my last year of high school anyways so it would hardly be worth it to come up with a whole system for me when there didn't appear to be anything too bad and that if I was Actually Serious about these claims that I should take it up with my doctor and then we'd talk. Even though no one else who was receiving extra help required any medical proof of needing it. She even said so. So. I left feeling defeated. My teacher asked how it went and I told him and he was surprised but he stuck to his commitment and helped me get through that class. And that's always been one of the most impactful classes for me.

As for the rest of the year. Uhhh I didn't have good grades, I was lost, I felt like I was constantly disappointing teachers, I gave up on ever attending any kind of college or university, and on the last day of school I had a complete breakdown over a final assignment that was in three parts, one of which I misunderstood from the start and the way I was trying to do it based off that wasn't working and eventually the teacher had to come in and talk me down and explain everything from the beginning. And I went through all this thinking that I was just dumb and not trying hard enough. I was humiliated. So. I mean. That extra help would have made a pretty big difference but. It just. Wasn't worth it. According to a woman who'd just met me

I saw a video talking about why schools shouldn't grade or assign homework the other day (interesting video! I support a lot of what the speaker was saying!) But at one point word searches were described as obvious busywork - what's the point in teaching kids to read diagonal words, after all?

Diagnosing dyslexia. Diagnosing dyslexia. Diagnosing dyslexia.

After going through IB classes in high school, after finishing my BA while working full time, after failing algebra with the same teacher two years in a row, there is no kind of homework that has ever made me cry so hard as word searches did in the 3rd grade.

If you've got a kid who has been working on a word search for an hour and is crying and telling you "the words aren't there," if you've got a kid who never knows what the pictures are in connect-the-dots because they can't connect the dots in the correct order, if you've got a kid who can't read analog clock faces after months of being taught how to read time, if you've got a kid who retranscribes all their music class handouts as letters because they can't wrap their head around reading music, I'm begging you to get your kid tested for dyslexia/dyscalculia.

And I'm begging you to get them tested before they learn how to mask so hard that it's difficult to get an official diagnosis because if they need disability accommodations in college they're going to need a diagnosis but they're going to be so good at masking their disorder that it's going to be difficult to prove that they need accommodations. And 'well if you can get by well enough that as an adult you can pass a test designed to diagnose children you must not need help' is bullshit because those tests don't make you do algebra or learn a new character set.