#I promised someone I’d post this but I have no clue if they’ll ever see it

[asachuu]

My absurdly long take on Rimlaine that is years overdue (1/10)

A few forewords to begin with:

So…who would have guessed such a niche ship as BSD Rimlaine would have prompted me to write an entire essay speaking about it and everything surrounding it? To an extent, not even myself, but upon dwelling in this fandom for long enough and trying my hand at explaining my personal thoughts on it here and there, I seemed to have realized very shortly that none of this would manage to fit into one single textpost I could write and publish the very same day, and thus we are here now. I’m hoping I managed to cover everything from top to bottom, given context for those in the BSD fandom who may not be too familiar with the ship itself and given my own perspective about this pairing, but before I start, I naturally have to give out a few disclaimers.

Firstly, this has, by no means, been written to tell anyone or even dictate what to think of this pairing, I would like for this to be established very clearly. I am not claiming all of this as the absolute, indisputable truth, as at the end of the day, a fair amount of it is nothing but my own opinion and nearly every single topic in this world has a lot of nuance to it, that of course including this one, where I will most likely not manage to cover every single existing point out there even if I try. However, certain other parts of this essay were indeed written with the intention of bringing some things to light, even if your own thoughts are ultimately up to you to decide, and this doesn’t mean I don’t believe in my own view nor do I have any reason to change it.

Continuing on from that, it is only right of me to give out a fair warning. If you hadn’t known me prior or it wasn’t immediately apparent from the nature of this work, I will not be taking kindly to the ship at hand whatsoever, nor will I express any support for it. Aside from me having my own criticisms surrounding it, it is also somewhat of my personal discomfort, and while I have chosen the route of attempting to take the least forceful path I could find with my wording to not turn this into a mindless or overly serious hate rant without proper context, this does not mean I will be giving it any credit or appreciation. If this is something that you do not wish to read for any reason you may have, I advise you to stop right here, and I thank you for your presence nonetheless.

Furthermore, I also wish to clarify that I absolutely did not write this with the intention to call Rimlaine shippers harmful, “toxic” or anything of this kind. None of this is targeted at any individual whatsoever, it is only my own point of view as from what I have seen, many things surrounding this pairing are not quite brought up enough, if at all, even though they should be. Whilst I will certainly call the ship itself unhealthy at least a few times, it is not meant to attack anyone who finds enjoyment in it. There could be a myriad of reasons for that, some of which I will go into further down the line, and I do not believe anyone, or at least the vast majority of people, mean any harm engaging in it. My sole intention is to perhaps bring a little more awareness to some issues I do not see mentioned practically anywhere, not to ruin people’s enjoyment of fictional media just for the sake of it.

Lastly, some people might fully disagree with this notion, but I don’t believe I have much right to explicitly label this ship itself as “toxic”, and thus I will not be doing so anywhere in this minor dissection of mine. It is not only because that word has been misused and joked about so much in the past to the point it began sounding ironic or like a complete exaggeration, but also because of my personal reservations on this note. Regardless of whether I think of this ship as such or not, as someone who has seen several people label entirely harmless pairings, characters or content with that word instead of elaborating on what they find unsettling or wrong about the given media and subsequently not being taken seriously for it, I would not like to accidentally mislead someone into thinking I will only be throwing around heavy baseless accusations without reason. Even so, if you choose to read any further and come out of this finding it to be exactly that, I will absolutely not be trying to convince you otherwise, as with full disclosure, I do believe it to be so, which also serves as my final warning to folks who may still be here purely to upset themselves.

Now, with all that said, the links to all parts are below.

GENERAL CONTENT WARNING: Aside from Fifteen/Stormbringer spoilers, there will be some discussions of topics such as abuse, suicide and BSD-typical descriptions of violence. I will do my best to specify these in their respective sections, but please be warned before going into this as I could miss some.

Links:

[Part 1] — Is there a “perfect” ship?

[Part 2] — What exactly is Rimlaine?

[Part 3, 3.1, 3.2] — Fifteen, The fight and Chuuya’s memories, Paul’s appearance

[Part 3.3] — Fifteen’s response

[Part 4] — The real-world relationship

[Part 5] — Stormbringer

[Part 5.1, 5.2, 5.3] — Arthur’s memoir, Chuuya’s flashback, the epilogue

[Part 5.4] — Stormbringer’s aftermath

[Afterword]

[my-mt-heart]

Caryl, and Carylers, Are Stuck In Limbo

Putting a warning right up top because some of the things I get into later might be triggering to those who have struggled with mental/emotional health. Please don’t feel obligated to read that part or any of this if it’s too difficult. 

I could easily turn this into a “positivity” post, focusing on all of the romantic implications of Daryl’s and Carol’s scenes in the finale. Like Daryl’s eyes being glued to Carol when she says what a beautiful day it is, how Judith’s final words of advice to Daryl imply that his happiness is with Carol, how Daryl’s “I love you” marks a new milestone not just for their relationship, but for a “man of few words” like Daryl Dixon, how Carol’s “I love you” intentionally tries to remove the gravity of those three words in order to lessen the agony of their goodbye, and how the open-endedness of it leaves room for more stories for them in the future. 

I would love nothing more than to focus on all of that, it’s what I’m most comfortable doing, but that would mean overlooking a massive issue that impacts these characters’ alleged future and impacts the fanbase and that feels like a great disservice. If it makes me a negative nancy or whatever we’re calling that subset of Caryl fans, then that’s that. For the record, I hate that we’ve fostered this culture where our thoughts have to exist in a binary. Why can’t my thoughts be nuanced? Why can’t I give credit where credit is due and think critically about other things? Does it mean I don’t really love the show or its characters? It feels like someone associated with the show might be perpetuating that way of thinking, but I’ll get into that soon. 

Like I already mentioned, my biggest gripe with the finale is the lack of emotional realism for the characters in terms of the paths they’re taking. There have been no clues, none whatsoever, that Daryl’s “ready to move on” or that Carol had any desire to take over for Hornsby. It retcons years of some of the most beautiful character development I’ve ever seen, and fuck, it even retcons the retcons from just this season alone. How do you justify Daryl deciding to leave Judith after he’s become a “daddy” to her? How do you justify Daryl deciding to leave Carol after he tried so hard to stop her from running away? I see no effort whatsoever to make it even remotely believable. They were just forced to take several steps backward, getting trapped in narrative limbo, doomed to repeat the same storylines we saw in S9/S10C where Carol has to play pretend for the good of everyone else around her and Daryl has to be on his own, struggling to find where he belongs. After 11 seasons, the characters and the audience have earned some relief, and what we’re all stuck with is just more heartbreak and anxiety. Why? Because AMC needs to service a spinoff that has never and still does not make any narrative sense. That’s all it is, character integrity be damned. 

I’m not trying to rob anyone of the hope they might have for more Caryl stories down the line. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with hoping, and we do deserve those stories, but we don’t have anything official. Vague promises from actors and EPs don’t carry much weight because at the end of the day, their goal is to try to get us hooked on what they’re selling, and if they can’t do that with good storytelling, the only thing that really matters, they’ll resort to marketing ploys. So, I think it’s important to be skeptical and to use our wallets to remind AMC that we’re skeptical. Otherwise, we’re only giving them permission to keep stringing us along indefinitely, to deny us the stories we really want because they expect us to settle for less than what’s been earned.  

Think about the shortcuts taken in S11 and the regressions in the finale. If you think that can be chalked up to Kang’s and her writers’ “incompetence,” then I’d also encourage you to consider everything we’ve been told about le Daryl so far. Castles, and nightclubs, and endless epic-ness, oh my. But if Gimple has CRM brain, Zabel has never worked on a TWD show before, McDermott is focused on setting a different tone, and Norman needs Daryl to be the unattached, badass hero, then who’s monitoring the character arcs so that if Caryl fans were to watch, we feel welcome to the story, like we’re still with the character we’ve known and loved for 12 years even as he navigates new challenges? Who’s double checking that his relationship with Carol is still being respected? If Daryl’s in a similar headspace as 10C, does that mean we’re in for another Leah-esque arc? More ship baiting? 

I don’t agree with other fans that Norman bears *all* the responsibility for what happened to our promised Caryl spinoff, but it does upset me to see this disdainful attitude about Caryl fans, who are also his/Daryl’s fans, expressed over and over again as if 1) we need to be guilted or shamed into watching his show and 2) we don’t meet his criteria for what constitutes a fan. But for all the offense he seems to take that we don’t just accept this show without Carol or take him at his word that Caryl will meet down the road at some unknown point in time, we the Caryl fans, again that’s Carol AND Daryl fans, don’t feel listened to and we don’t feel reassured. 

My job teaches me to see the unglamorous side of television, but engaging in fandom has taught me something just as valuable, which is the human side. No, actors shouldn’t be bullied. I’ve been very adamant about that. What needs more emphasis though is how the fans are treated in return. They’re numbers to the network, but to me they’re real people who for one reason or another found something meaningful in following these two characters throughout their journey together, and they don’t deserve to be exploited for their viewership. They don’t deserve to have, what is for some, their only source of comfort in life ripped away so more privileged individuals can live out whatever dreams they have for themselves. I’m not singling out Norman, but he says he doesn’t like all of the “whining.” You know what I don’t like? *Putting out that trigger warning again.* I don’t like people in my DM’s sharing stories of severe anxiety, depression, self-harm, or suicidal thoughts because they lost something special to them, because they feel rejected by a show they love or an actor they admire. To many, it is not “just a TV show” and I think anyone who turns their passion for film/TV into a career should be able to empathize with that.  

Emotional and financial investment in Carol’s AND Daryl’s story is a completely valid reason for skepticism and “protests.” I’ve seen people argue that creators don’t owe their audience anything and it’s their story to tell, and while some shows certainly set a poor example, that’s actually not how things are supposed to work. If you’re making a TV show, you do so with your audience in mind. If you spend twelve years utilizing the amazing chemistry between two actors to build a meaningful relationship like no other, you honor that story and in doing so, you honor the millions of people who enable you to tell that story in the first place. Theoretically, the people who work on your favorite show should take satisfaction in giving you something you’ll love. I’m happy to say that’s been my experience so far as a writer in the industry. 

And as a woman in the industry, I can’t not take it personally if I have reason to suspect sexist/misogynistic practices are hindering some of the most talented and hard working among us, the ones who are needed both on and offscreen to create content that resonates with a diverse audience. It’s been encouraging to see so many others take it just as seriously, I imagine because so many others are also women and have had to battle sexism in their own lives. It’s not painting anyone as a victim or minimizing their agency. It’s just offering support. Women helping women.  

We’ve been called crazy, unhinged, conspiracy theorists, and feminists for raising these concerns and sure, we have blind spots. Yes, there are lines that shouldn’t be crossed. But overall, I don’t believe fans have anything to feel bad about. When all of this started,  AMC didn’t seem to think Carol matched Daryl in popularity, and we’ve been trying to push them to realize that isn’t true, that in fact, she is vital in her own right as well as to Daryl’s story. I don’t like to make assumptions about people I don’t know, but even if we got some things wrong, I can’t imagine Melissa would begrudge the overwhelming amount of love and appreciation she’s been shown, and I hope there isn’t a doubt in her mind how much her portrayal of Carol means to us. The whole point of rallying in her name was not to pressure her into something she didn’t want to do or invade her privacy. It was to make absolutely sure she has the power to choose what she wants for her character’s future. 

I will be beyond thrilled if I have to put my foot in my mouth like Norman said. I’ll put all the “foots” in my mouth because more than anything, I want Carol and Daryl to reunite and finish their story the way they should. But if it’s true my viewership is valued, show me, don’t tell me. In the meantime, I will not relax and I will not chill. I’m going to be upset about what I’ve been left with, which is the absolute last thing I wanted for both of my favorite characters. 

Like I said, my blog is still here. My inbox is open. 

[pies-writes-and-more]

unforgettable

request: asahi content!! :) 

pairing: asahi azumane x fem!reader 

warnings: all fluff besides asahi being a v nervous boi and daichi and suga teasing him lol

a/n: thank you for the request anon! I’ve been meaning to post some more love for our ace but I keep forgetting to finish the wips haha so thank you for getting me into the groove! big thank you to @satan-ruler-of-hells​ for helping me out with this fic :D

haikyuu masterlist

Asahi wondered how he should feel, having the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on, holding his hand, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Should he feel like his heart was going to burst out of his chest? Should his whole face be burning with embarrassment? Because here she was, smiling up at him and making him forget what his name was and there was really only one issue with this situation.

Asahi had absolutely no clue who this girl was.

“Are you excited for your match, babe?” You asked, seeming to not take notice of the fear and confusion in his eyes.

‘Babe’?

The team must’ve frozen behind him because no one was saying anything, except for the surprised sounds coming out of Noya and Tanaka’s gaping mouths.

“Oh hey there! You’re Asahi’s girlfriend right?” Daichi asked, grinning as he waved to her. “It’s nice to finally meet you. He talks about you all the time!”

I do? Asahi thought to himself, trying to think about his recent conversations with Daichi.

“Asahi, she’s so much prettier than i would’ve imagined! No wonder you didn’t want to bring her around - I would totally steal her off of you,” Suga laughed.

Asahi’s brow furrowed as you just nodded, introducing yourself to the team. I have a girlfriend? He wondered to himself, his heart beating too fast for his body to keep up. There was no way that this was possible. But his eyes were drawn to her - she was exactly his type. How the hell did he manage that? Besides that, how the hell did he manage to forget her?

Asahi Azumane you IDIOT, he scolded himself internally, just watching her smile and giggle at how excited everyone on the team was.

Hinata and Kageyama were both hiding in the back, whispering amongst themselves because the upperclassmen were acting as if Asahi had mentioned this girl before.... but they had definitely no memory of this.

“Maybe it happened when we were practicing one day?” Hinata whispered, eyes narrowing as he tried to see if he recognized you.

“I dunno, I don’t pay attention to anything they say unless it’s about volleyball,” Kageyama admitted quietly to him and Hinata smacked his arm, scolding him about paying more attention.

Asahi still felt like he was going to faint - this couldn’t possibly be happening. Wait, what was this girl’s name? He should’ve listened to you introduce yourself to the team - maybe your name would’ve sparked a memory for him. What kind of person was he to not even remember his girlfriend? And look at her, she was perfect, she would definitely leave him if he told her that he didn’t remember her. What kind of husband was he going to be if he couldn’t even remember her name?? What if he forgot his children’s names? What if-

You suddenly let out a breath, grinning and glancing up at him, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to come on so strong. But thank you for going along with it!”

Going.... along with it?

“And you guys too! I appreciate it!” You beamed, nodding specifically towards Daichi and Suga.

“No worries, I noticed those guys trying to catch up with you. I figured you were in a bit of trouble,” Daichi admitted, glancing through the crowds to make sure the creepy older guys had left after seeing you with them. “Will you be okay now?”

You nodded and looked over your shoulder, comforted by the fact that they were gone, “Yep! I’m sure once I find my way up on the stands, they’ll leave me be. Sorry again, I just saw a tall kinda scary looking guy and figured he was my best shot,” you laughed, smiling up at Asahi again.

“W-What?” Asahi wasn’t sure he was putting the pieces together fast enough - so... you weren’t his girlfriend?

Daichi rolled his eyes, punching the ace’s arm to shock him back to reality, “She got spooked by some dudes. Pretending you were her boyfriend was probably a way to get them off her back. You know, cause you look like a 30 year old man.”

Asahi frowned tightly at the comment, rubbing his arm, “Hey! I can’t help the way I look!” His eyes turned to Suga who was laughing at how mean Daichi could be. “So you knew too?”

“Oh no way. I’m not as quick as Daichi. But I saw you panicking cause you didn’t seem to recognize her and thought it was hilarious,” Sugawara laughed and Asahi groaned - he should’ve known his friends enjoyed watching him torture himself.

“Thank you for your help! Sorry again,” you apologized, for what felt like the 100th time. “I’d like to make it up to you if I can. I know I made you uncomfortable back there.”

Asahi shook his head quickly, waving his hands in front of him in protest, “N-No not at all! Why would I be uncomfortable at a pretty girl holding my hand?”

You giggled, noting the other teams starting to pile into the gym, “Well, maybe after your game I can find you and take you out for food as a thank you. I appreciate you helping me out there.”

Daichi and Sugawara were still snickering as they helped push the rest of the Karasuno team into the gym, trying to give their Ace some time with his fake girlfriend.

“You really don’t have to thank me, if anything it’s probably Daichi you should thank,” Asahi admitted, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Mm maybe. But I don’t think your captain’s my type. I picked you cause you were kinda scary looking... but also you seemed like my type,” you explained to him with a laugh.

Asahi’s eyes probably popped out of his skull hearing that, stammering out all sorts of noises and making you laugh some more.

“You’re the ace for our team right?” You asked, glancing into the gym in hopes that you weren’t making him late. It was only then Asahi realized you were wearing a Karasuno school uniform. “I’ll be cheering for you up in the stands, boyfriend,” you teased, giving his hand a small squeeze. “And maybe later we can go get food together?”

Asahi felt his face burning with nerves as he nodded shyly, your smile making his stomach do all sorts of flipsjust nodded nervously, you shooting him another one of those gorgeous smiles, “S-Sure.”

“It’s a date!” You beamed, waving a little to him as you went off to find a spot on the bleachers.

The tall third year finally let out a breath he had been holding, wondering if he had dreamt the whole thing. He looked at his hand, reimagining how it had felt with your hand in it.

“Oi! Asahi! Are you coming or what?” Sugawara called from the gym. Asahi blushed some more as he shook off his daydreams, nodded quickly and rushing in to start stretching with everyone else. “I hope you got her number.”

“W-What?”

“Y/N! That girl that you were just talking to! Did you get her number?” Sugawara asked, eager for the details. It wasn’t every day that Asahi seemed so head over heels over a girl (especially one he just met).

“N-No but… she wants to get food together,” Asahi admitted shyly, playing with his fingers in front of him.

“Well you better play your best today so she doesn’t back out,” Daichi snickered as he joined the conversation.

Asahi whined as Daichi and Sugawara continued to tease him, both of them hitting his back with some somewhat supportive words, grinning ear to ear, “Go and be the best ace ever!” Suga cheered as the game started.

Asahi took a breath, silently promising himself that he would play his absolute best this game as he caught your eyes up in the stands, smiling softy to himself. “Y/N,” he whispered to himself, repeating the name that you had given Sugawara and the others. He heard you cheering for them with the other Karasuno students as the game went by, points racking up as he felt himself getting more into the game.

After their win, Asahi was happy to find you hanging around as everyone else was disappearing. “So you really are as good of an ace as they say,” you complimented him with a smile. “It was really cool to see you play.”

“T-Thank you,” Asahi blushed, brushing some flyaway hair from his eyes. “I guess I should properly introduce myself. Azumane Asahi, but please, call me Asahi.”

He held his hand out to you and your happily shook it, both of you immediately wondering if it was common to find someone whose hand seemed to fit so perfectly with your own, “Y/L/N Y/N, but call me Y/N. I did say I would treat you to some food, so what kind are you thinking?” You asked boldly, smiling up at him. It wasn’t every day you found a guy like him and if he was interested, you definitely weren’t planning on letting him go.

Asahi spluttered out some more sounds, ones that definitely weren’t words, and you just giggled in response, making him even more nervous because your laugh was just so wonderful. “A-Anything you want,” he finally managed to get out. Was this really happening to him? A perfect girl like you asking him out?

“I’ve been craving ramen if you’re interested!”

“I know this great place that has tonkotsu ramen!” Asahi found himself blurting out excitedly, suddenly also craving ramen.

“Sounds like a pretty good date to me,” you glanced at the clock nearby, quickly tugging your bag off your shoulders and pulling out a pen. “Here. I assume you’ve got to head back with your team, but text me,” you suggested, scribbling your number on his arm. “Sorry if I’m being too bold,” you apologized with a laugh, tossing your pen back into your bag. “You just seem pretty cool.”

Asahi shook his head quickly, insisting there was no need for you to apologize, “I-I like it.” He gave you a wave as you started to head out, looking at the digits written on his skin as if memorizing them just in case they magically disappeared.

“Y/L/N Y/N,” he murmured under his breath. He wouldn’t be forgetting your name anytime soon, he was sure of that.

haikyuu taglist (lmk if you’d like to be added)

@al0ehas​​ @aurumk​​ @neko-chii1​​ @thisnoodlewritesao3​​ @satan-ruler-of-hells​​ @trashy-simp​​ @jeppiet​​ @tobi-momo​​ @darkvadeeer​​ @haikyuutothetop​​ @livy384​​ @babyshoyo​​ @jesssobs​​ @b-bakana​​ @just4readingfics​​

[twdmusicboxmystery]

99% Sure Leah is a Hallucination

Okay, I REALLY wasn’t going to post anything else. I know the two template posts I gave you yesterday were a lot to chew through. But something happened last night that made this come together for me and my buddies, and I just couldn’t sit on it. I promise I’ll keep this brief, though.

After watching the episode yet again last night, @frangipanilove found an article in which Norman says something interesting about this episode. Well, maybe interesting isn’t the right word. More like BOMBSHELL.

Remember how we at first thought she might be a hallucination? Well, we moved away from it because we learned that Carol knew about her. That, and I thought it was safer for us all to make our peace with the idea of Daryl having a relationship with this woman. Just accept it and move forward, you know?

But after watching the episode, yes, Carol knew about her, but only what Daryl seemingly told her. She never met Leah. Not a single soul in the world other than Daryl ever saw her. Hmm.

So, here’s the article @frangipanilove found:

I honestly wouldn’t have gone back to the hallucination theory, if not for reading this. But now Norman is saying that nothing in this episode is what it seems. And he’s specifically referencing Daryl’s relationship with Leah.

(P.S. I have to laugh that fans are asking him what’s wrong with him. Um...he’s not Daryl? He’s Norman. And he doesn’t write the show. The writers do. Lol. But also notice that he talks about staying true to Daryl, and we all know that this Leah thing is the opposite of that. Unless....)

So, let’s look at some weirdnesses in the episode. And @wdway deserves most of the credit for this. Once we started discussing the article and brainstorming, she came up with most of this.

1.  When he meets Leah. My fellow theorists and I were actually talking about this before the episode aired yesterday. Why does he just run into her cabin? He follows Dog, but the funny thing is, Dog doesn’t run into the cabin. Only Daryl does. How does he know there’s not 47 walkers in there? How does he know there aren’t a dozen armed people? You’d think he would stop and observe and evaluate. But he doesn’t. He just charges in. And that’s very unlike Daryl.

And of course we could come up with some sort of explanation. Like maybe he heard Leah yelling while fighting the walker in the back bedroom and thought she needed help. Maybe, but the show doesn’t actually suggest this. There aren’t any subtitles or anything that give us any clue as to what his thought process was for just charging in.

2.  When he brings Dog back to her, when his eye scar has appeared, if you listen to the dialogue between him and Leah, it’s a little bit odd. Maybe not quite as odd as him charging into her house at first, but still it leaves some questions. About the eye scar, she says, “looks like you got the raw end of the deal.” He just says, “yeah.” Well, that scar isn’t jagged or shaky at all. It’s very straight. Clearly made by a knife, not a walker. So, it’s a little strange that she doesn’t ask what happened. If she wants to be left alone, wouldn’t she be concerned that there might be someone else out there. Why doesn’t she just ask about it? Why doesn’t he just tell her about it? In a way, it almost sounds as if Leah knows more than she’s saying in this scene.

3. When she opens up to him about her family and her past, all the stories she tells are almost like amalgamations of Daryl and the characters on TWD. Obviously everyone noticed the similarities to Carol. That’s a big one. But the story of the blood and the running could be them running from the prison, or the deaths of a lot of different people Daryl has had to say goodbye to. When she talks about meeting and fighting with her squad and how they gave her hope? TF in a nutshell. And even that she hints at having an abusive family. Daryl. Carol, too. But mostly Daryl.

4. It’s still odd that no one else ever met Leah. Yeah, she said she wanted to live out there alone. And we talked about how this makes it an unhealthy relationship, because if she really loved him, she would want to go meet his friends and family and know about every part of his life. Into this, I’m going to lump the fact that she never seems to have gone with him to search for Rick. Once again, if you love someone, you participate in their lives. And she’s just alone at the cabin anyway. Why not go with him?

5. Outside the show Weirdness: Look at that top pic I used for when he met Leah. Remember when we discussed that there is someone kneeling behind her? I assumed it was her son, because spoilers didn’t reveal when or how he would die. But that’s not the case. This person looks to be a teenager or an adult (much older than Matthew was) and we never learn who it is. 

People have said it might be a set person or a mic guy who accidentally made it into the shot, but I don’t buy that. They scrutinize these pictures and could easily have fixed that with the computer if they’d wanted to. I don’t know if we’ll ever find who it is. It might just be a hint that there’s more going on here than meets the eye.

But then I found this pic:

There’s someone lying dead on the ground behind them, and we didn’t see this in the episode. @wdway thinks it’s just Leah. That she was dead when he arrived, but he made up this story about how she was this strong, survivor woman and could have become his companion. I think that’s a super-viable theory, but of course we won’t know the details until they actually show us.

There are more weirdnesses than this, but I’m sure you get the idea. The more we think about it, the more sure we are that she’s a hallucination. And obviously that would make more sense anyway from the “why would the writers handle Daryl’s love life this way and piss off the entire fandom” perspective.

One thing we also noticed was that on TTD, the writer emphasized that this story is told from Daryl’s perspective. We’re seeing his PERCEPTION of it, and that’s important. I heard her say that, and wasn’t quite sure of what to make of it. Before realizing the hallucination thing, I thought she might be hinting that there was more we hadn’t see, or Leah might not be who he thought she was. Something like that. But if she’s not real, that makes way more sense, doesn’t it.

So, some things to consider. The strong parallels to Carol. The exact ones, actually, like spear fishing and all the identical dialogue. That’s because he’s taking those things from his time with Carol and incorporating them directly into Leah’s story.

Everything I said yesterday still applies. Mostly because that’s the symbolic template and here, we’re talking about the reality of what’s happening, so the two don’t affect each other directly. But while Leah’s personality is based on Carol’s (probably because that’s who he spends the most time with these days) the romance element is definitely molded out of his time with Beth.

Real:

Hallucination:

The cross that represents the grave? The one Chris Hardwick said would make some people think Leah is dead? Yeah, we think that really is her grave. We do think she probably really existed, and he met her, but she died relatively quickly, and the rest of the relationship didn’t happen. It’s all in his head. I’ll give you some more possibilities on that in a minute.

We think she’s the one who gave him the eye scar. If we’re right about that, I’m sure they’ll show it to us eventually. I mean, if she’s a hallucination, they’ll have to tell us that eventually, but probably not until S11. Think about the dialogue. “Looks like you got the raw end of the deal.” Daryl: “Yeah.”

This is also why the ending makes little sense. His argument with her about where he belongs is really him arguing with himself. That’s why he cries when she asks where he belongs, and he says he doesn’t know. But then later, we see him charging off to look for Rick, and not seeming at all sad or conflicted about anything. It’s because there is Leah. There never was. He’s just looking for Rick.

@frangipanilove also said something insightful about Carol. I think I took most of my mentions of the Carol flashback scenes out of my meta yesterday. Only because it was already so long and I wanted to focus on laying out the symbolic template for you. But while watching the episode, I actually felt kinda bad for Carol. Every time she came to see him, she seemed so upset. Like she felt as abandoned by him as he does by her. And I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve a taste of her own medicine, but I guess that sadness from her kind of surprised me.

But what @frangipanilove said is that maybe her worry for him really was warranted. Because he’d been out there on his own so long, it started to mess with his head and he really was losing his sanity. Carol might have been starting to see that, and she really was terrified for his mental health, which is why she kept trying to get him to come back.

And you know, it creates an interesting sort of irony for Daryl and Carol’s fight at the end in present day. He says that when things get tough, she runs, and he’s sick of dragging her back. And that’s true. We’ve seen that he’s right and Carol does do this, so I was 100% behind what he said to her. Was it harsh? Sure. But it still needed to be said.

But the irony is that during these 6 years after Rick, Daryl was doing exactly the same thing. Him staying out there to look for Rick, when after years, it would have become clear that he wouldn’t find the body, was him running away from the pain of what happened. Carol kept trying to drag him back, but he wouldn’t go with her.

Also, the two of them on opposite sides of the river here could represent the divide between reality and Daryl’s hallucinations.

The note. It’s a little hard to know exactly how to interpret the note from a PTSD perspective. Symbolically, I’d say the note he left was for Beth. Maybe he doesn’t even realize that in the episode, but with all the Beth parallels, it’s just about him wanting to belong somewhere. He wants to belong with someone who loves and needs him.

But I talked yesterday about how the cabin was trashed, and the picture was gone, right? By the time he wrote that note, Leah was long gone. Dead, I mean. The fact that the picture wasn’t there is especially significant. Why would the picture have disappeared, unless it wasn’t real to begin with.

Another thing I noted was Carol’s somewhat bizarre reaction when Daryl suggested they go down toward the river to hunt. She looked worried about that, but agreed. At the time, I was thinking she was worried because he’d spent so much time down there before looking for Rick, and she didn’t want the obsession to resurface. And that’s probably still true, but it’s even more interesting now, isn’t it? And maybe that’s why she’s always wanting to go out with him when he goes hunting or looking for supplies or whatever. She just doesn’t want him falling back into that mindset and disappearing again.

And it will make what I said yesterday about what will happen in the spinoff—her wanting him to stop looking for Rick and come with her—make more sense, too, won’t it?

Okay, I’ll stop now. I really haven’t covered everything we could possibly talk about with this. I’m sure you’ll all think of tons more. But you get the idea. And remember, this isn’t just my theory or our theory. I wouldn’t have come back to this at all if I hadn’t read that article where Norman hinted at it. And he would know, right?

And hey, if this turns out to be incorrect, I’ll be okay with that. I’ll eat my words (not literally 😉). But Norman is referring to SOMETHING here, and given how few characters were in this episode, and that he was directly talking about Leah in that quote, there really aren’t many things he could actually mean.

Special thanks to both @frangipanilove​ and @wdway​. Honestly, they did way more work on this one than I did.

Thoughts?

[loverlele]

Coming Out

Bi!Spencer Reid x Bi!Female Reader

A/N: Hey guys! I wasn't planning on writing something this closely to posting Oblivious, however the wonderful @thatsonezesty13​ commented “could Spencer possibly be bi also bc like he was supposed to be but the network said no” and it sparked an idea in my brain. They also helped me out on a couple other details in this, so big thank you to you!! So here we are! Fun fact! I am currently listening to Bye Bye Bye by *NSYNC as I write this so that's fun! Anyways there will be some more pride related content coming soon, as well as other things! Send any requests you have my way and I'll get to it. Enjoy :)

Word count: 2095

The month of June rolled round far too quickly. It had hit half way through the year and I’d had 4 days off work, possibly 5, since Christmas. I guess that's a bad part of doing this job, not having much (or any for that matter) downtime in between jobs. It was exhausting at times, but I wouldn't change what I did for anything. One things June meant was 2 guaranteed days off. Not for the whole office, but I put in that request years ago. Nobody could say no once I told them what I would be spending those 2 days doing. 

San Diego pride was a 2-day event I spent 363 days (or 364 days on a leap year, can't forget about them years) a year counting down to. It was the 2 days a year that I was able to be truly myself. I love my team and I don't think anyone would ever care if I was to reveal the one secret I had been hiding since I became part of the team. the only one who knew was Hotch, but that was only because I had to tell him in order to get those 2 days off a year. 

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I think they will react badly. I mean, everyone knows about Emily and nobody took that badly. I think its more of that I like having a part of my life that's just for me. I mean when you take a job like this, any secret you ever had comes to light. Whether you like it or not, every member of your team will know every detail there is to know about your private life. Other times, I wish we had more privacy. But other times, the lack of privacy comes in handy. Like today, for example.

The moment Spencer Reid took a step into the office I knew something was off. And the minute he made eye contact with me, he knew that I knew somethings off. I’d never be one to push. “Hey Spencie” I said as he sat down in the cubicle next to me. He looked up at me with a slightly confused face. “I know you might not want to talk about what's bothering you, but know if you do you can always speak to me. I won't judge you on anything. You have a safe place with me, please know that” I say in a slightly hushed voice, sending him a reassuring smile before getting on with the pile of neglected paperwork on my desk. If he wanted to talk about it, he could come to me. I had a feeling this was something that you couldn't be able to push out of a person.

-

Later that afternoon I was making coffee in the conference room. For some reason the coffee from the conference room tasted a million times better than the one in the kitchen. I had no clue why though because they seemed to be the exact same machine. All I know if the coffee in here is a heck of a lot better than near my desk, so it was worth the extra walking to get it. I didn't seem to be the only one who thought that though as shortly after I start making a pot Spencer walks in. I spin slightly, smiling at him. He still seemed troubled, almost like he was having an internal debate with himself. 

“You okay there Spencie?” I ask pouring the coffee into the pot, spinning round to put the pot of freshly brewed goodness on the table. He seemed to still be at war with himself, but the whiff of coffee soon knocked him out of his mind and back into reality. I hold my hand out to fill up his cup, something he happily accepts. 

“I- um” he starts, trying to choose his next words wisely, “have you ever had something you've wanted to scream out for the longest time, but you've never been able to?”

“Of course, I could things of a couple things on the spot. I’m sure if I sat and thought about it for a minute or two I’d be able to think of more. Why, what's going on in that cute head of yours?” We both seemed to gravitate to sitting next to each other, bodies pointed at one another. 

Spencer sits in silent for a minute or two before asking timidly, “C-can I trust you?” 

“I’d hope you can trust me, if you can't then I've done something wrong without knowing it” I say, not quite sure where he was going with this one. It’s not often Spencer says things that leave me confused. I mean I don't have an IQ of 197, I can’t read 20,000 words a minute and my memory is anything but eidetic - BUT you give us a bunch of facts to sort out and a case to solve, we become the perfect team.

“Promise you won't judge me?” he says, a bit apprehensive. With that, I grab his hand from under the table and hold it gently in my hands, rubbing it gently to help soothe him.

“Hey, look at me” I say, “have I ever judged you? The first time I met you was just after you’d been held hostage and were addicted to Dilaudid. For two weeks I bared the brunt of your come down because I knew there was a sweet, kind man underneath. When Gideon told you how you'd treated me when you came clean about what happened, you apologised multiple times a day for months until I snapped at you. Remember what I said to you? ‘You have nothing to apologise for-’”

“’that was the drug talking, not you” he finishes sighing softly. “I’m really sorry about that you know” he says, smiling softly at me. I gave him a look, making him laugh softly. “Right sorry.”

“Spencer!”

“Sorr-”

“Nope, that words banned.”

“You can't ban a word Y/N!”

“Watch me!” I say, half joking (but he didn't need to know that), “So what's wrong?”

He sighs, looking up. As we make eye contact I can see the clogs spinning at 100mph in his head. “Take as much time as you need Spencie, I’ll be here.”

“Um, I haven't told anyone this before. Not because I’m afraid of how they’ll take it because I know they aren't small-minded people like that. I think its because if I say it out loud, if I admit what I am out loud, it’ll be real.”

“Spencie, you've lost me sweeties.”

“I guess what I'm trying to say is... okay so remember when we went to Miami for that case last year?”

“The one where the unsub was confused about his identity so he took it out on his victims?” I ask, my mind racing through every detail on that case.

“Yeah that one. So you know we all stayed an extra night, went to that club and I disappeared half way through the night?” I nod my head, still confused as to where this was going, “well that night I met someone. They were gorgeous and one things lead to another, and we went back to their place, and y’know.”

I squint my eyes slightly, confused as to what he was implying, “they?”

He scratches his head, eyes wandering to the door to make sure we were alone.

“See, the person I left with was a guy...”

“You hooked up with a guy?” I ask, the pieces slowly starting to click together in my head.

“Y-yeah I did. I didn't plan it, it just kinda happened. After that, it sent me crazy trying to piece together who I was. I knew I couldn't be gay because... okay since we’re getting everything out in the open.. because I've always had somewhat of a crush on you.”

“Wait, on me?” He nods, eyes flitting between mine, trying to figure out my response. “So, do you think you’re bi?”

“I’m like 99% sure I’m bi” he replies, chuckling to himself.

“I’m proud of you Spencie, I know it’s not easy coming out to people. Especially people who mean a lot to you. I promise you I am always going to be in your life, one way or another. And I also promise you that no matter what happens, will support you and I will fight in your corner” I say, grabbing his hand slightly tighter, “no matter what!!”

He smiles, relaxing slightly. For a moment, everything was peaceful. Spencer was so proud of himself for coming out, and the internal battle had moved from Spencer’s brain to yours truly. 

“Hey Spence?”

“Hmm”

“Since we are being completely open here, I have something to tell you.”

“What? What is it?” he asks, worried for his friend.

“So you know how I take 2 days off every year?” I start.

“Yeah, why is that?”

“I take 2 days off to march in the San Diego pride march. I’ve done it every year for the past 13 years, and I knew it was something I had to do every year. When Hotch interview me for this job and he asked if I had any commitments I needed time off for, I said I needed 2 days off every July. Hotch being Hotch asked why, and when I told him I was marching for those who couldn't do it themselves, for whatever reason, he quickly agreed.”

“Okay, I'm still confused. Are you marching for someone other than the people unable to do it themselves? 13 years is a long time to be doing something, especially something for other people.”

“No, I do it for myself too.”

“I’m, um, still confused Y/N” Spencer says, half annoyed with myself for not being able to connect the dots that are right in front of himself.

“No, it’s okay I wasn't clear. Me and you are a lot more similar under the surface than you think Spencie” I say, not putting my sexuality into words because I can never find the right words to use to say it, without blurting it out with no context.

“I still don't get it Y/N!” he half shouts, ripping his hand out of mine and tugging at his hair. Almost as if someone flips a switch in his brain, Spencer shoots his head up. Bingo! I tell myself.

“You-you’re bi?”

“I sure am Spencie. I have been since the minute I was born.”

“Why didn't you say nothing earlier? All those years I've asked what you do on the same 2 days a year, year in and year our.”

“I didn't say anything to anyone, bar Hotch, because I wanted something that’s just for me. Call me selfish, but I’d rather not give Morgan even more of an excuse to try and set me up with someone when we all go for a drink. he’s bad enough already” I explain, trying to make the situation a bit lighter by joking with him. He goes along with the joke, jokingly pulling a mortified face.

“That’s very true, we don't need to give Derek anymore ammunition than he already has.”

“My point exactly!” I say, laughing and pulling him in for a hug. The hug quickly gets interrupted by a pair of clicking heels approaching the conference room.

“Hey cuties, head’s up everyone's on their way here. We got called in on a job” Penelope says, smiling gently to herself.

“God where would we be without you Penny?” I ask, beaming up at her.

“Oh angel cakes, you’d probably be very stuck” she replies, turning on her heels and walking off. 

As she leaves the voices of our other colleagues float into the room, alerting us of their incoming presence. Spencer pulls at my arm slightly, turning me to face him.

“Hey, do you think I’d be able to join you next month?”

“You sure Spencie? You don't have to feel obliged to.”

“No, I want to.”

“I’ll speak to Hotch later and see if he's okay with it. I wouldn't see why not. You deserve a break” I reply with a smiling face, giving his arm a quick squeeze.

“Hey there you are!” Emily says, “we’ve been looking all over for you two!”

“Sorry, we didn't realise how much time had passed.”

“Is everything okay?” Hotch asks.

“We’re all good” I say, not being able to contain the smile on my face anymore.

“If you say so Y/N” Hotch says back, “okay JJ, what have we got?”

[clockworkouroboros]

I’m in a The Amazing Devil Discord server and have been going wild with crazy insane theories about just about everything, drawing connections that probably don’t actually exist, and generally losing my mind over both Love Run and The Horror and the Wild. That being said, I do have a theory about THatW that, if it’s not true, at least merits me a tinfoil hat, I think. Just be warned, this post will be long, and yes, I will include receipts.

So here’s this theory and Joey, if you read this, just know that I’m impressed either at how much thought was put into this, or the sheer number of coincidences that make this work if it wasn’t planned. It’s turned me into a conspiracy theorist for the past four days or so? And it’s severely affected the amount of sleep I’ve been getting.

My basic theory here is that Joey and Madeleine aren’t singing as themselves throughout this album, they’re playing characters, and those characters are old gods. Joey is the Wild, Madeleine is Time. (Alternatively, she’s Horror, fitting with the album title, but as she’s never explicitly referred to as such, I’m not insisting on that point.)

Now, where am I getting this silly idea from? None other than the title track, of course, in which Joey sings, “witness me, old man, I am the Wild, and Madeleine sings, “And I am Time itself.” And yes, they are both capitalized like that in the lyrics.

So they explicitly refer to themselves as such. But Emily, you might be saying (or not, depending on how much you care), that’s one song! This is hardly an album’s worth of proof! Sure, they might be gods in this song, but what about the other eight? To which I say, hoo boy, I’m just getting started.

Before I continue, I’d like to add something about how their characters are depicted throughout the album: Joey is more cheerful, Madeleine is not. (see: Wild Blue Yonder, Marbles, Battle Cries.) Joey is whimsical, Madeleine is practical. (See Battle Cries especially, but you can also see this in Wild Blue Yonder.) Madeleine is referred to multiple times as being stronger than Joey, and appears to assume a more protective role over Joey’s childlike. This fits in with my theory, by the way, in a roundabout sort of way that involves some squinting. Joey is the Wild, which is...well, wild. Think of little kids: cheerful, whimsical, in need of protection. Madeleine is Time. She knows what has been, what is, and what will be. Of course she’s going to be more mature, practical, and pessimistic.

And why is this important? Well, it’s kind of how I’m tying together a lot of the rest of the album. (Not all of it; Farewell Wanderlust is a notable outlier in many ways, and some of my connections are tenuous at best, but we’re going to ignore that and pretend it’s all rock-solid. Rockrose-solid. I’m sorry, I’m very tired.) I’m ignoring The Rockrose and the Thistle a little bit in this post, not because I dislike it (it’s gorgeous), but because it’s stubbornly eluding my attempts to tie it into anything other than Elsa’s Song, which isn’t even part of this album.

The vast majority of what you need to know about these two characters is in The Horror and the Wild (the song), so I’m gonna copy/paste some lyrics, and go through them. (Actually, the copy/pasting is nonexistent, these lyrics are imprinted on my brain at this point. That being said, if there are errors, lmk and I will edit the post and fix them!)

So we’ve got Madeleine starting, singing about Joey, with “You were raised by wolves and voices, every night I hear them howling deep beneath your bed, they said it all comes down to you.” Aside from the fact that I have no clue why “it all” comes down to Joey, or anything with that last bit, maybe a few more late nights with a tinfoil hat will do the trick. That being said, the first line of the song references childhood specifically in relation to Joey. Notice also how wolves are referenced in Wild Blue Yonder (“we don’t know what’s out there/could be wolves”) and That Unwanted Animal (“‘What’s the time, Mr. Wolf,’ but you, you’re blind, you bleat, you bear your claws”). The whole “howling” thing and “deep beneath your bed” both pop up in That Unwanted Animal, too: “and on the wind it howls,” for one. And for the other, there’s “you [presumably Joey] make the bed up silent on the floor so no one hears us,” later followed later in the song by “and the door below us splinters, and the creature creeps inside.”

Following this, Joey sings about Madeleine: “you’re the daughter of silent watching stones, you watch the stars hurl all their fundaments, in wonderment at you and yours, forever asking more.” First of all, I’m gonna say that this is Joey’s point of view; later on, Madeleine will refute the daughter thing (“I’m not a drunkard, a daughter, a preacher”.) Anyway, “silent watching stones” could reference Wild Blue Yonder: “every stone you threw, I stood on to better see the view.” The view being the stars hurling all their fundaments?

(Incidentally, I knew vaguely what “fundament” meant, but I looked it up to make sure I had it right, and learned that, among its other meanings, “fundament” can mean “butt.” But I don’t think that’s what Joey had in mind with this. I just think y’all should appreciate it.)

Anyway, we’ve also got in Battle Cries, “With you I could summon the gods and the stars, make them dance out the plays that we wrote from the heart, and we’d laugh at the ghosts of our fears,” with Madeleine singing, “Come on, love, please don’t start, sing your notes play your part,” and then the part that gets me every time: M: “we were gods,” J: “we were kids.” Which is a whole other can of worms involving their personalities, which I’ve already briefly outlined. My point is the whole “gods and the stars” bit.

I could (and have, on Discord) done a full, in-depth analysis of this track, and I don’t want to go all over it again, but “I promise you, they’ll sing of every Time you passed your fingers through my hair and called me child, witness me, old man, I am the Wild” has both Time and Wild as proper nouns in the lyrics, plus reinforces Time’s view of the Wild as a child. No clue who the old man is, though.

In verse two, Madeleine sings, “you [Joey] are the son of every dressing-up box, and I am Time itself, I slow and let you play, I steal the hours, and turn the night into day.” Again, this reinforces Joey’s childlike aspects (which will later be hinted at in That Unwanted Animal, with the “god-child,” who’s clearly Joey), but also shows, as in the refrain, the fact that Time has a sense of protectiveness over the Wild, at least sometimes.

That being said, although I’ve obviously referenced other songs, I still have mostly focused on the title track. So. I’m going to go through some of the other songs real quick.

The songs on the album (again, excepting Rockrose, because my attempts to tie it in have been frustrating and not gone anywhere, Mr. Batey please explain) can be grouped into categories: songs outright referencing gods (THatW, Farewell Wanderlust, That Unwanted Animal, Battle Cries), songs about their relationship, (arguably all of them, although Welly Boots is a bit confusing), and songs that refuse to allow me to classify them (Rockrose).

I would argue that this entire album is about the relationship of two old gods, but I’m not quite sure what the chronology is of the album, because it seems like it can’t be straightforward. (Farewell Wanderlust, although its placement makes sense in the setup of the album, doesn’t make sense in the chronology of this theory.) Another important note in some way is that every song on the album, with the exception of Farewell Wanderlust, is about being there for someone, or steadfastness in some capacity, while Farewell Wanderlust is about abandonment. It’s an outlier in a lot of ways. (Though not as many ways as frickin Rockrose.)

I have been talking about this at great length (and almost incessantly) on Discord, so unless you want this post to get even longer, I’m going to run by some lyrics real quick to try and show a little bit my thought process.

- “He watches her get dressed as though she’s hurtling through time” (Fair)

- “And she is stronger than he has ever been, he knows” (Fair) versus “Without you, I’m stronger, I’m no longer filled with wonder. How wrong you were” (Wild Blue Yonder, Welly Boots)

- J: “Place your hand in mine” M: “Hold the hand of the god-child, they said, as he falls from the sky” (That Unwanted Animal)

- “I’m the saint of the paint that was left in the pot, I’m your angel ellipsis, your devil of dots” (Farewell Wanderlust)

- “the fluttering of all your wings” (The Horror and the Wild) versus “when you think about him, my wings start to flap” (Farewell Wanderlust)

- “come, devil, come, she sang, call out my name. Let’s take this outside, ‘cos we’re one and the same. Our gods have abandoned us, left us, instead, take up arms, take my hand, let us waltz for the dead” (Farewell Wanderlust)

There are even more lyrics, and I’m going to be completely honest with you, I’ve gone totally insane with all of this, but this post is way too long already, so just let me know if you want any clarification or something.

Tldr: The Amazing Devil’s album The Horror and the Wild is about two old gods, one being Time, and the other being the Wild, or the god-child. The album is primarily about their relationship and steadfastness they show each other, even in tumultuous circumstances.

Now go excuse me while I attempt to take off this tinfoil hat that appears to be stuck on my head.

[sherrybaby14]

Charcoal

Summary:  You break up with Bucky, but agree to one last event.

Warnings:  Breeding!Kink, smut, maybe dubcon (but not really), alcohol, charcoal

Words:  2500

A/N:  Based on a post, that I can’t link to at the moment.  

At least the coffee shop was crowded.  It made the conversation a little less personal.  

“I’m sorry, but we’re just looking for different things.”  You twiddled your thumbs. “I think you’re great and all, but you keep talking about starting a family and I am no where near that point in my life.”  

Bucky’s small smile didn’t drop, but you saw the disappointment in his eyes.  

“But you would make such a great mother.”  He reached out and took your hand. “And our children.  The two of us together?  They could rule the world.”  

“See?”  You pulled your hand away.  “That sort of talk…it creeps me out a little. We’re not even married.”  

“I’m sorry, but I say what’s on my mind.”  Bucky ran his hands through his hair.  “I can tone it down?”

“No.” You had made up yours and weren’t about to back down. “You need to find someone who wants the things you want.  You’ll make a great dad and its obvious you’re ready.”  

Bucky fell back in the chair.  He didn’t make eye contact with you as he blew a gust through his lips.  

“The party.  Tomorrow night.  Everyone is coming.”  He looked at you with such sadness. “Could you?  Save some face?  Pretend we’re still together?”  

“What party?”  You didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.  

“Steve and some of the team are coming over.  It’s casual.”  Bucky ran his fingers down his face.  “I told you about it last month.  Maybe I should cancel.  Not really in the mood for company.”

The guilt hit, and it hit hard. He looked so defeated. The last few months had been fun, and you did have feelings for the man.

“No.  Don’t cancel.”  You nodded.  “I value our relationship. Maybe one more night will give some closure.”  

“Tomorrow at eight?”  Bucky gave a half smile.  

“I’ll be there.”  You grabbed your purse.  “Goodbye Buck.”  

He gave you a nod.  You turned and left the shop.  Blinking away the tears that were forming.  You wanted this to end.  There was no reason for crying.

~~

This was awkward.  Bucky had texted you the time, but standing outside his apartment felt weird.  He made it clear he didn’t want his friends to know about your break-up.  What would that entail?  You hoped not a lot of PDA.  He knew you were over and better act like it.  

With a fist raised you knocked once and the door flung open.  

“Heyyyy.”  Steve reached out and gave you a hug, kissing you on the cheek.  “Since when do you knock?  Did Bucky not give you a key yet?”  

“I forgot it.”  You hugged him back, knowing you were going to miss him.  Bucky’s friends had always been so kind to you.  

You walked in to see the usual crowd.  Steve, Tony, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, Wanda, Sam, Pepper.  Some of them had dates.  Nobody you didn’t know.   They were mingling amongst each other, giving you casual waves.  

“Buck made this fantastic punch.  I’ll get you a glass.”  Steve ran over to the kitchen table and you followed, trying to avoid the host for a little bit.  

“Whoa.  Is there a theme?”  You looked at the little spread of appetizers.  They were all black.  

The chips, the dips, the punch.  Every thing on the table was dyed black with food coloring.  

“You’re not allergic to coconut are you?”  Steve handed you a glass of black liquid.  

You shook your head.  

“What’s with all the black?”  You were hesitant to take a sip.  

“Ask your boyfriend.” Steve shrugged, grabbing a black chip and dipping it.  “I think it’s a pre-Halloween thing, but black or not the guacamole is delicious.”  

He dipped another chip and handed it to you.  While it didn’t look appetizing in the least you figured why not and took a bite.  

“Holy shit.” You brought your hand to your lips as the flavor his your lips.  “That is amazing.”  

“It all is.”  Steve gave an exaggerated head nod.  “Almost like he hired a professional chef.  Try the meatballs, the vegetable dip.  I mean everything on this table is phenomenal.  Take a sip of the punch.”  

You brought the drink to your mouth and nodded in agreement as it ran down your tongue.  Bucky wasn’t this good of a cook.  

“I was wondering when you would get here.”  Bucky put his arm on your waist as he walked around you, dropping it as your body stiffened.  “I see Steve is taking care of you?”  

“The food is amazing.”  You knew word vomit was coming.  You were nervous and always got that way.  “Why is it all black?”  

“Why not?”  Bucky shrugged as he picked up some form of breaded appetizer.  “Open up.”  

You parted your lips as he stuck the food in your mouth.  You had no clue what it was, but damn it was tasty.  Tony called for Steve and he moved into the other room, leaving you and Bucky alone.  

“Don’t worry.”  He smiled.  “I won’t make tonight strange.  Thank you for being here.”  

“You can’t cook like this.”  You wanted to change the subject.  “Did you get a caterer?”  

“I have some tricks up my sleeve.”  Bucky laughed.  “Maybe you didn’t know me as well as you thought.  Now come on.  It’s a small enough group I’m hoping we can do a few party games.”  

Your cheeks went warm as you followed him into the other room.  He winked at you as he tried to corral the party guests.  This was the Bucky you wanted.  The normal one, who was charming and caring. You bit the inside of your cheek, promising not to fall down that hole again.  He was ready to be a father.  He needed to find someone on his level and that wasn’t you.  

~~

The night flew by.  Pictionary, motor mouth, and even a few new games.  Bucky was so attentive always making sure your drink was filled and there was a little appetizer plate in front of you.  You were eating too much, but it was so delicious, blackness and everything.  

“I’ll be right back.”  It was the other team’s turn at Trivial Pursuit and you needed to use the bathroom.  

Nobody objected as you snuck away.   While you were alone you wondered if you had made the right choice.  It was so natural and easy with him.   But the baby stuff.  No.  That was too much.  You weren’t ready.  

After washing your hands and fixing yourself in the mirror a little you opened the door to see Bucky standing right there.  

“Hey.”  You didn’t want to have a deep conversation right now.  

“Thank you for doing this.”  He gave a smile.  “I’m sure they’ll all be heartbroken for me when I tell them the truth.  I hate to ask, but will you stay until the end?  I’ll pay for your Uber.”

“Of course.”  You could deal with that.  “I’ll miss them too.”

You didn’t want to give him any ideas.  No reconciliation.  

“Did you take your pill?”  Bucky raised an eyebrow.  

“Huh?”  Your stomach dropped.

“You take it every night at nine.  Just because we’re not together anymore,  I didn’t want you to forget.”  His smile dropped.  “I shouldn’t bring it up, but I’d hate to see you be irresponsible with a random at a bar.”  

“Oh.”  You had forgot.  “Don’t…that’s…I mean, don’t worry about that.  Thank you for the reminder.  My purse is in the kitchen.”  

You walked down the hallway with Bucky.  Thinking about his comment.  Was that where he was headed?  One night stands with randoms?  Why did the thought make you feel sick.  

“Here.”  Bucky filled you a fresh cup of the black punch. “To swallow.”  

“Right.”  Ugh.  You hated how he was making your knees week.  

You went into your purse and pulled out your pill, popping it in your mouth.  Was he trying to show you he wasn’t obsessed with a having a kid?  In the past he made jokes about flushing your pills.  Now he was on board?  Could he be relaxing?  

No.  You were over.  You weren’t falling down that path again.  He would find someone ready for what he wanted and you would keep on living your life the way you wanted to: kid free.  

“Let’s go back to the group.”  Bucky pushed off the table.  

You nodded and followed him.  Reminding yourself you were friends.  Nothing more.  This was what you wanted.  

~~

The food died down, but the drinks never did.  You imagined your tummy was filled with blackness, but even with the weird color it was delicious.  

“Alright, I’m calling it a night.”  Steve pulled out his phone.  “Ride will be here in a minute.”

You stood up from the couch to give him a hug goodbye.  He shook hands with Bucky.

“You better treat her right.”  Steve winked at you. “She’s a keeper.”  

The alcohol and over eating made your head dizzy.  Maybe Bucky should keep you?  Was it wrong to give him a second chance?  What if he did stop talking about you carrying his child?  

You didn’t want to have these thoughts, but tonight was perfect.  Reminded you of why you liked Bucky so much in the first place.  He shut the door on Steve and turned to face you.  

“Should I call you that car?”  He put his hands in his jeans as he walked passed you into the kitchen, starting to clean up the food.  “Or can I guilt you into some clean up?  The punch is almost done.  We can kill it together.”  

“I shouldn’t drink any more.”  You were teetering on drunk, and knew your resistance was going to fail.  

“But you want to.”  Bucky lifted up the bowl and split it into two cups.  “Who am I to deny you anything?”

A small smirk came to your face as you reached out and took the drink.   Then you walked to his cabinet and pulled out some tupper ware.  

“So who was the cook?”  You started to clean.  “I know it wasn’t you.”  

“I dyed it black.”  Bucky laughed.  “That’s something right?”  

“Tonight was a lot of fun.”  You knew you shouldn’t have this conversation, but couldn’t help yourself.  “Thanks for inviting me.  Maybe we can stay friends?”

“I don’t think so.”  Bucky smiled as he looked at you.  “It’s hard to be friends with someone you’re constantly thinking about fucking.”  

His words sent a chill through you.  This was a bad idea, but you answered before you could think.  

“You want to fuck me?”  You put the food down and crossed your legs, feeling your excitement growing.  

“Of course I do.”  Bucky squinted his eyes and took a step toward you.  “You’re the one who wanted this to end.  Remember?”  

“I’m not ready.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”  You hoped he wouldn’t make you say the word baby, kid, or child out loud.  

“Hey.”  His hand came up and cupped your cheek.  “I’m not talking about that.  I’m talking about me and you.  Together or not, you’re so beautiful.  All night I’ve thought about nothing but diving between your legs.”  

Red sirens went off in your head.  Bad idea. Bad idea.  But he was so gorgeous and your head was a little fuzzy from the alcohol.  Maybe you were overreacting.  

His head dipped down and lips crashed into yours.  You cooed at the familiarity as your arms went around his neck.  The way his mouth felt against yours was perfection.  His tongue slid out, rougher than normal, owning your mouth.  The gentleness vanishing as he tugged you closer, running his hands down your back to your ass, lifting you up.  

“This isn’t smart.”  You broke the kiss as Bucky carried you out of the kitchen.  “We want different things.”  

“Right now, the only thing I want is you.”  His eyes flashed heavy with lust as he went back in for the kiss.  “Only you.”  

You could handle that.  You wanted to handle that.  You purred into his mouth, clawing at Bucky until he got to the bedroom.  

Heavy swats and random kisses while you peeled off each other’s clothing.  Tearing at each other, the thirty six hours you’d been apart feeling like torture.  

“Bucky,  this doesn’t mean….” He kissed you, shutting you up as he flipped your down on the bed.  

You moaned as his arms hooked under your knees, putting your ankles on his shoulders.  He bent down and you moved with him so your thighs pressed against your chest and feet hit his back.

Bucky slid in with ease.  You shuddered, loving the way he filled you.   The position let him get deep.  Deeper than you were used to, making you wiggle around trying to get comfortable.  But he pushed forward and place his hands next to your head.  His weight was on you and you had to scoot down to support him, feeling his cock tap your cervix.  

“Fuck.”  You let out a heavy breath.

“No more talking.”  Bucky’s lips found yours.  He bit down hard and dragged his teeth back.  “Conversation is over.”  

That was music to your ears.

He pulled out and slammed back into you.  A squeal left your lips.  He was starting out hard, but it felt amazing.  There was no warm up as he fucked you into the mattress, the position giving you little to do but take his cock.  

The moans and whimpers started.  You ran your fingers through his hair as he moved his attention to your neck.  

“Never leaving me again.”  He bit down and you cried out.  “Never.”  

You couldn’t think straight.  DIdn’t want to either.  This was where you belonged, taking his cock long and hard.  

“Make you mine forever.”  His teeth dragged, sending tiny bolts of pain to the pleasure building in your core.  “You want that.  Don’t you?”  

His cock never gave up.  Pounding into you, forcing any working brain cells you had to vanish.  

You were moaning like crazy, clawing at him.   This was animalistic.  Like nothing you’d ever experienced before.  You were raw emotion and whatever noises you’d made he interpreted as agreement.  

“That’s a good girl.”  He pressed down inside of you hard, grinding his pelvis against your clit.  

The stimulation made you try to back away, but you were trapped by him.   You through your neck back and cried out.  The coil growing tighter and tighter.  

When Bucky pulled out again your bundle of nerves was swollen for him, needing more attention.   You whimpered as he went back to railing you instead, taking control of your body.  

“You feel so good baby.”  Bucky nipped at your ear.  “I’m going to cum, and then I’m going to cum again.  I’m not even going to stop.”  

You were dying.  The need growing more and more. You knew he wasn’t lying.  

“I’m going to leak out of you.”  He growled.  “Then blow more inside.  You’re going to drip me all over the sheets.”  

Your toes started to curl first.  Like you were trying to fight it, your body shouldn’t be responding to his words the way they were, but you wanted that.  The mental image too much.  

You thrashed underneath him as the spring went loose, flooding your body with ecstasy.  

Your orgasm spread as he bottomed out, his cock exploding inside you.  The cooing came back, a sheen of sweat covering your body.  You shivered around him, gasping for air while the feeling of fuzziness covered your entire body.  

You lost attention more a moment, only coming back when you realized he lived up to his promise and was back to fucking you again without even pulling out.  Why did you break up with him again?

“I’m going to fuck you silly.”  He moved a hand to grab your chin, focusing you on him.  “You’ll know where you belong by the end of the night.”  

You were at a loss for words, unsure if he was an angel or a devil.  But right now you didn’t care.  You were at his mercy and it felt like where you belonged.  

~~

She passed out.  Little breathes as she slept.  Bucky couldn’t stop rubbing her stomach.  There was there a baby in there.  He was certain of it.  

After all, he fed her enough charcoal and came in her enough.  Plus made sure she took her pill at just the right time to make it ineffective.  

She was going to learn her place soon enough.  As a mother to his child.  And she would be grateful.  He was certain.  

Plus he looked forward to the conversation:

“Bucky, I don’t understand.  I’m pregnant.  How did this happen?”  The nerves on her face.

“Well the pill is only effective 99% of the time.  We’re the one percent.”  He’d smile.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll take care of you and the baby.  Forever.”

[angelofthequeers]

Not a Good Look: Chapter 7

@thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @lady-charinette @elmokingkong tagged as requested :)

Chapter 6 | AO3 link

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Thanks to everyone who’s enjoyed this fic! It was just a little something I had to get out because of this whole quarantine crap…and then I misplaced my brain cell and picked my presentation topics with the same due week as my essays, so this was a welcome break from four assessments at once.

Because I got a few queries about Gabriel hearing the conversation after he was Venomed and realising that Adrien is Chat: considering that the driver in 'Queen Wasp' was delirious and didn't know what the heck was going on, I see Venom as freezing all the senses and basically making you black out. So no, he doesn't have a clue what happened after he was Venomed.

Also, you'll notice that I don't actually mention Emilie at all. That's because the investigation's still ongoing and they'd have to know to look behind the painting, let alone the combination to it, and they won't have that without Gabriel telling them or without some good tech if they did suspect it in the first place. Unlike in 'Hold Me', it's only been a few days since the takedown, not a few weeks, and Adrien doesn't have the knowledge about Emilie and the secret lair here that he did in 'Hold Me' when Gabriel physically showed him, so he can't go and tell any of the authorities. Just figured I'd throw that in before people start asking XD

“I can’t believe it!” Alya throws her hands up and almost steps onto the road in front of a speeding car, which honks furiously at her as it passes. “All that evidence against Lila and you’re not letting me air it?”

“Hawkmoth is fair game,” Marinette says. “And they’ll probably use the footage in court to prove that he was grooming an underage girl. But if you air that footage, you’re giving her a free ticket out. She’ll have solid proof that she was being manipulated by Mr Agreste. And honestly…Adrien’s right. Sure, we can expose her over the internet, but what then? It follows her everywhere she goes. She’s got no chance of ever growing past this evil, self-absorbed phase that she’s in because it’ll haunt her for the rest of her life.”

“That’s surprisingly mature for someone whose life was almost ruined by said phase,” Alya mutters.

“You think I’m happy about this?” Marinette says. “I want nothing more than to throw all her lies in her face and cackle like a witch about it. But I don’t want to sink to that kind of person. Being her for five minutes, even though it was an illusion…it made me pity her. She’ll do anything for her fifteen minutes of fame, even if she has to make deals with creepy old men who try to intimidate her, and she’ll squash anyone who gets in her way. And honestly? That’s just sad. I’m the one with true friends. I’m the one who’ll still be standing when the dust settles. Not her. I told her I had faith in my friends and look where we ended up.”

Alya reaches over and rests the back of her hand on Marinette’s forehead. “Are you sure we got the Butterfly and Peacock on Wednesday night?” she says. “You sure there’s not an akuma that’s making you say this stuff? Or that you’re not a sentimonster?”

“Oh, ha, ha,” Marinette says, rolling her eyes. “And besides, the police may or may not have told Ladybug that they were arresting Lila yesterday for colluding with a terrorist, since there’s enough doubt in the footage of me as her to at least claim that she had a clue that he was Hawkmoth. And even though she’ll most likely wriggle her way out of it because that proof’s not a hundred percent solid, at least she won’t be playing everyone like a puppet anymore. There’ll be just enough doubt that they’ll start to question her and then her lies will just…fall. And it’ll kill her more to have no attention than to even have bad attention.”

Alya blinks at her. “No, seriously, who are you and what have you done with Marinette? I know there’s no way you’d come up with that all by yourself.”

“Okay, fine!” Marinette crosses her arms. “Tikki talked me down from going ballistic last night, and Adrien, Kagami, and I had a good talk about what to do about her.”

“I knew it!” Alya says, jabbing Marinette in the chest. “That’s way more complex than your single brain cell can handle!”

“Excuse me?” Marinette splutters. “How dare you? I’m the saviour of Paris! You have my posters in your room!”

“And I’m also your best friend, so I’m allowed to ruthlessly roast you,” Alya says smugly. “Too bad, so sad.”

Sure enough, as Marinette had predicted, Lila’s at school today and is holding court in the classroom, strategically sobbing into her hands when Marinette and Alya enter the room.

“Oh, Marinette! Alya! I’m so glad you’re here!” Lila cries. “Marinette, I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done to you! I never wanted to hurt you but, well, Mr Agreste took advantage of my lying disorder and our natural rivalry and he – he –” She sniffles and blows her nose, and Marinette resists the incredibly strong urge to roll her eyes at the theatrics. “He manipulated me! He promised me modelling contracts and favours and that I could spend time with Adrien, since I had a crush on him, and – and oh my gosh, I feel so dirty!”

“It’s okay, Lila,” Rose says soothingly, patting her on the back. “He took advantage of you. It’s nothing to be ashamed of!”

“I always knew that Mr Agreste was a dirty old man,” Alix growls. “On top of being a shitty father and a supervillain!”

“I mean, we were all used by him as akumas,” Chloé scoffs, delicately touching up her mascara in her compact mirror. “You’re nothing special, Rossi. And Adrikins is staying at my hotel now, so which of us ended up winning, hmm?”

“Well, we might never be friends, but I forgive you for everything you’ve done,” Marinette says as everyone glares at Chloé. Kind of rich of Chloé to say that, considering what she’d done as Miracle Queen, but no one actually remembers that, so…oh well. “And I’m…sorry for the way I treated you. I should have believed you about your disabilities even if you didn’t have that lying disorder.”

As much as it pains her to do so, this apology is necessary. As Tikki and Adrien had pointed out, their classmates had in fact been in the right to believe Lila about her disabilities instead of forcing her to prove every little thing, and Marinette had wilted when Tikki had asked her to remember how she’s felt whenever anyone’s doubted her claim of being autistic because she “seems normal enough” and demanded that she provide evidence. But Marinette’s not apologising for or excusing Lila’s evil manipulations and every other lie of hers, especially the ones that got her expelled, and Tikki and Adrien had thankfully taken her side on that point.

“Oh, of course I forgive you!” Lila says dramatically. “And I agree! Even if we never end up being friends, I’d much rather be on friendly terms than unfriendly!”

“So, what happens now?” Sabrina says. “My father told me that you were arrested yesterday!”

Lila’s face falls. “Oh, yes, they had to arrest me for colluding with a terrorist, but it’s all a formality and I’m sure to be let off in the trial! Especially since their only evidence is some footage of me talking to Mr Agreste that’s clearly doctored, since I’ve got an airtight alibi, and Alya’s interview of me that she had to get as more evidence against him! Ladybug had to summon an illusion of me to trick Mr Agreste into confessing, of course, and I was so scared that he would take it out on me if our plan failed, but I’m fully prepared to give media statements, even if Ladybug can’t confirm or deny that we were working together for my safety…”

Marinette’s eye twitches as Lila spins some tale about the grand plan that she’d been part of to take down Gabriel Agreste. But, to her surprise, their classmates aren’t falling over themselves to ooh and ahh at her story. They’re not calling her out, of course, but they’re just…losing interest the longer she talks about herself. Huh. That’s never happened before.

“What’s going on?” Marinette turns to whisper to Ivan. “You don’t believe her?”

Ivan shrugs. “She’s got a lying disorder. She can’t help it. Not gonna be mean for something she can’t help but…yeah, I don’t believe Ladybug would use a civilian like that.”

“I pity her, honestly,” Nathaniel pipes up from behind Ivan. “But I’m also kind of wondering what else she’s lied about, especially if Mr Agreste made her. Even if she wasn’t doing it to screw us over…she was still lying to us.”

Marinette could sing to the heavens. Finally, someone’s using their brain! It might not be immediate, but Lila’s downfall is just around the corner, and honestly? Marinette had been telling the truth earlier; all she can feel right now is pity for when Lila’s eventually left alone, surrounded by nothing but her lies as her empire crumbles around her. And honestly, maybe fading into obscurity like that is a worse punishment for Lila than being targeted and called out, since that would still be giving her the attention that she craves. But this? This is nothing.

Although Marinette keeps an absent eye on the door for Adrien’s entrance, she’s not expecting to see him, since she already knows that he’s not coming to school today as well. Not that she can blame him, really, after the whole “Hawkmoth exposed” thing that Alya had posted on the Ladyblog that’s generated so much traffic that poor Alya can’t even check up on it since it keeps crashing (much to her gleeful annoyance). Marinette doesn’t think that anyone will accuse him of being in league with Hawkmoth but, well, it’s inevitable that there’ll be some dicks who pull the whole “like father, like son” crap, so it makes sense that he wouldn’t want to expose himself to that.

However, that doesn’t stop her from making a beeline for Le Grand Paris after school, where Adrien and his bodyguard are staying temporarily since the mansion’s now considered a crime scene. It’s so…weird. Hawkmoth and Mayura have been taken down and Adrien’s life has been utterly turned on its head and shaken some more, yet the sun still casts its weak rays down on Marinette’s back. The pigeons still coo and rustle their wings, with Mr Ramier no doubt nearby. The cars still zoom past, leaving acrid trails in their wake. The world just…keeps on keeping on, with no regard to the massive shock that’s turned people’s lives upside-down. All these people – these animals – they won’t know, they won’t care, what she and her friends have had to go through, being used like pawns in a chess game and giving up so much for the greater good, in ways that will stay with them forever –

“Marinette!” Warm hands grab her by the shoulders and a pair of brown eyes root her to the spot, grounding her so that she doesn’t float away from everything that’s currently assaulting her brain. She lets out a shuddering gasp and slumps forward, allowing the person to fully embrace her, and she buries her nose in the damp skin of their neck and inhales sweat and sharp deodorant, along with the faintest traces of what smells like some kind of incense.

“Kagami,” she croaks and digs her fingers into the back of Kagami’s blazer. “Why? What did Adrien do to deserve this? What did we do to deserve this? Lila – Mr Agreste – am I really that bad that they teamed up to break me –”

“What they did to you isn’t a punishment for anything,” Kagami says, firm but soft at the same time. “They colluded like that because they’re awful people.”

“But the way I treated you and – and stalked Adrien – I stole his phone, I followed him around, I tried to sabotage you with Chloé at the movie event because I was jealous – it’s been bothering me but I didn’t – it didn’t hit – not until now, when I realised how Mr Agreste and Lila treated him like – like a toy –”

“Marinette –”

“Why do you even like me? Why does Adrien like me? He said I’m good but I’m not. I’ve done bad things and it’s like – everyone acts like me being Ladybug makes me a saint but I’m not, I’m just a teenage girl and I can’t cope, I can’t do this –”

“Yes, you can.” Kagami undoes Marinette’s pigtails so that she can run her fingers through Marinette’s hair, stroking it in a rhythmic pattern that hypnotises Marinette into a blurry trance. “Hawkmoth and Mayura are dealt with. I’m here to talk to Adrien, just as you are, and we’ll figure it out, okay? We always will. And I can’t say that I haven’t acted jealously before either, because I definitely clung to Adrien to make a point to you and Chloé at the movie premiere, so you’re not a bad person just because you did a few bad things. And your flaws don’t mean that Adrien was lying when he said that you’re a brilliant girl. I wouldn’t have feelings for you if you were anything less than extraordinary. Why do you think I like Adrien?”

“God – I’m a mess –”

“It’s okay. I moved us to an alleyway, so no one will see. And now that there aren’t any more akumas, you deserve this, Marinette. It’s okay.”

Dimly, Marinette registers her legs caving underneath her as she sobs into Kagami’s shoulder and clutches fistfuls of the other girl’s blazer, finally exorcising everything she’s had to keep bottled up for fear of akumatisation, because Kagami’s right: now that there aren’t any akumas, there’s no threat for expressing her emotions, and it’s so good to be able to just break down like this, rather than having to suppress everything and paste on a smile for the greater good. She almost jumps out of her skin when someone leans against her back and wraps their arms around her from behind, but then she gets a whiff of their musky, earthy smell and she melts into their embrace because it’s Adrien; it’s her kitty, and he’ll always be there for her no matter what.

“Wow, you weren’t lying when you said she was a mess,” Adrien murmurs, his voice distorted as though they’re underwater. “What brought it on?”

“I don’t know what triggered it, but I believe the underlying cause is not being able to express any of this with Hawkmoth around. She just…exploded.”

The voices turn to a dull buzz after that as Marinette gasps in air and her tears finally start to die down. The next time she’s able to discern individual words, it’s Adrien talking to her as she finally stops crying and just slumps against Kagami with her eyes closed and her limbs like lead weights.

“It’s okay, Marinette,” he’s saying. “I forgive you for stealing my phone and following me and Lila home and everything else. And Kagami forgives you for trying to embarrass her.”

“But why?” Marinette croaks. “It’s not normal. I’m not normal. Why don’t you h-hate me? I’m a creep.”

“After what Hawkmoth and Lila did, you still think you’re a creep?” Adrien says. He gently pulls her back, detaching her from Kagami, and he pulls her into his lap and tangles his fingers in her hair, his warm breath ghosting across the top of her head. Through her blurry eyes, Marinette sees Kagami snuggling up to Adrien’s side and pulling Marinette’s legs into her lap while she rests her head on Adrien’s shoulder. “I said I forgive you, bugaboo, not that you didn’t do anything wrong. So, you know, that means that I know you messed up and I’m okay with it. It’s not like I’ve never made mistakes either.”

Somehow, it’s the admission that yeah, she’d screwed up, but he forgives her for it, that manages to calm Marinette down the rest of the way; if he’d tried to excuse her actions and brush them off as her never doing anything wrong, that probably would’ve just brought on a fresh emotional meltdown. She sags against Adrien and closes her eyes, allowing the last of her meltdown to seep out of her and into the world around them, and when Kagami shifts under her legs, she acts purely on instinct and wraps her legs around Kagami to pull her closer.

“Looks like Ladybug never skipped leg day,” Adrien says when Marinette pulls Kagami to lean back against her. Although Marinette can’t see him, she just knows that he’s wearing that shit-eating grin that Chat Noir always has, so she punishes him by elbowing him gently in the gut. “Meowch!”

“So, I’m guessing this means we’re…a thing?” Marinette says. Her voice cracks halfway through her sentence, like she’s a teenage boy in the middle of puberty, but thankfully, neither person around her calls her out on it.

“I’m happy with that if we take it slow and don’t jump straight into the deep end,” Adrien says. “It’s pretty lonely in the hotel, but hopefully Gorilla or Nino’s mother gets custody of me soon. I don’t know who they’re leaning towards. And after what just happened…well, if both of you want to give me kitty cuddles, I won’t say no. And, uh…I have to confess. One of the times I messed up as Aspik was because I…couldn’t stop staring at Multimouse’s butt. So, uh, I think that beats out any creepy things you’ve done.”

The shock of hearing Adrien confess to looking at her butt like he’s a little kitten confessing to being naughty jolts a laugh out of Marinette, and then she’s sagging against Adrien in a fit of piercing laughter as tears roll down her face. Alya had been right the other night. What the hell is wrong with them? How did they end up in a two-person love square that turned into a tangled polygon when Kagami had entered the room?

“Then it’s official.” Kagami laces her fingers with a hysterical Marinette’s and rests their hands on her stomach. “I have a tentative boyfriend and a girlfriend. But Adrien has a moral obligation to punch anyone who makes any disgusting remarks about him having “two girls”.”

“You act like I wasn’t gonna do that anyway,” Adrien grumbles. “I’ll also throw in an additional punch if they ask you two to make out with each other.”

“Our hero,” Marinette tries to say dryly, but the effect is ruined when she chokes it out in the middle of the hiccups of her dying laughter. “Whatever would we do without you?”

“Well, your life would be –”

“No, wait, don’t finish that sentence. I know you’ll make a pun out of it somehow and then I’ll be forced to punch you for it.”

“Aww,” Adrien whines, while Kagami snorts. “But that’s half my charm!”

“Getting punched? I agree,” Kagami says innocently. Adrien whines again and Marinette can’t help but laugh again and realise that, while navigating the territory of having two partners at the same time won’t be easy, the extra support is probably exactly what she needs right now. With her two partners and her two best friends by her side, there’s nothing the five of them can’t do; especially with no more supervillain terrorising Paris and no more attention-seeking teenage girl trying to ruin everyone else’s lives.

It really hadn’t been a good look for either of them after all.

[csykora]

hey i was reading your post about evgeny kusnetsov and alexander semin (the friendship necklace one) and i got into hockey somewhat recently but i've heard/read some things about sasha and i was wondering if you could give me a rundown/what your perspective is? you mentioned cultural assimilation, but also social class, ethnic identity, ability, neurodiversity, and trauma and i was really curious what exactly you were talking about??

First, that’s cool you’re getting into hockey! How’s that going? I hope you’re having fun. Second…thanks for making me reread my old writing as we come up on the New Year ;)

That was one of my very first posts, and I think it reads like it—I definitely wasn’t much of a sports writer back then, and (I don’t think) I tell stories quite the same way now.

I don’t think some of those words I used mean much, except that I was angry. So I’d like to spell out what made, makes, me angry. The first half of this is stuff I’ve said before, more organized, with jokes. The second half is not fun, but it’s also something I think NHL fans have a duty to think about. So I want to try to talk about Lokomotiv.

Sasha Semin is the star and captain of a quite good, more fun KHL team. Today he was named to the All-Star team, actually. KHL All-Stars is a magical place where the players sing acoustic covers and routinely set things on fire, so hopefully they’ll let him bring his sword.

(I love the KHL)

Before that, he was the cool big brother of a generation of Russian stars. In the early 2000s the first post-Soviet young players were coming of age and working out what post-Soviet, now-Russian style hockey was going to be. In that moment we got two spectacular players: Sasha from Siberia, and Sasha from Moscow.

The Soviet style of play was supposed to be egalitarian—players skated the opposition sick and pass-pass-passed, always giving it to a teammate instead of taking chances, until whoever happened to have it had a sure shot. The Alexanders grew up in that style, and they grew up fuck-off strong. They started feeding off all their teammates’ passes and beginning to gun down goalies with one of two shots: Alex Ovechkin had the one-timer, and Alex Semin had the best wristshot in the game.

Did you watch Vegas’ magic season? Pull some clips of Wild Bill Karlsson. Imagine if he had upper body strength but was just as light on his feet. That’s how inexplicably electric young Semin was.

His and then Ovi’s performances at World Juniors were so explosive they convinced American businesses to risk money on something new. Semin was oldest, and the Capitals kind of sucked, so they got him first. Then a few years later they still sucked, so they got Ovi too. Then the two of them got Nicklas Backstrom and matching line promise necklaces and played really good hockey together for a number of years.

(If anyone would like 3,000 more nicer words about the above subjects, @ me)

A couple things shaped what happened after that:

▪ Semin’s unique wrister, twisted to be almost as hard as a slapper, is like spending every night downing jägerbombs with a shot of carpal tunnel. He seems to have chronic wrist and hand problems from inflammation, with apparent flare-ups that sometimes got rest and sometimes didn’t. So that’s a factor—not the only, but a—in why he had periods of poor shooting.

▪ Either because he never really went to school or just because he’s wired that way, Semin seems to suck at math.

▪ Ovi’s hot stick and the Sid Incident (Sidcident?): 

In their first interview together, Ovi described him and Sid as “partners”, and Sid asked for Ovi’s shirt. But over the first few years the League swung from branding them as buddies to making money off a rivalry, and Don Cherry started a string of bitter conflicts with Ovi.

Local journalists who knew him wrote about seeing Ovi flinch in interviews. They described him starting to hesitate, pale, tired, doubling back over answers to make sure they were watertight. We now know from Tatyana Ovechina that he was spending a lot of nights on the phone back home with her, asking if he was letting everybody down.

Sasha, who’s basically that guy on twitter who found kittens in his sock drawer and adopted them all, but with little brothers, got protective. He told Russian media that he thought Sid was a good player, but not his favorite, and said that the way the League was pushing media attention could make someone a ‘star’ even if they weren’t that good. The phrase he used means “dead wood”, or boring, useless person. The grammar he used means something like “even if he were (ie, he isn’t)”.

I think this was objectively very funny. And I still hold that anyone saying the level of exposure Sid endured was good for him or anyone sounds like the stage parents on Toddlers & Tiaras.)

But people get protective of their person, and most won’t stop for a grammar lesson before deciding what they think something meant. There was a media blitz, mostly accusing Sasha of wanting the attention Sid got, which made sense, if you didn’t know Russian or two things about him—that he’s best friends with Alex Ovechkin, and that he’d only just started to practice English with local reporters after several years. If he were an egomaniac, he was bad at it.

From his reaction it seems like he hadn’t thought his comment was that wild, and wasn’t prepared for the backlash. Next time he talked to local reporters, he brought the translator back. Asked routine questions he’d been getting for a couple years, he flinched and turned to them to rehearse every word of his answer. Asked what was up with the translator, he said “I just don’t want to say the wrong thing.”

Although teammates like Mike Knuble, Jeff Schultz, Backstrom and Ovechkin kept talking about his personable, joking side, and we’d see it plenty in practice, he started insisting to reporters that he didn’t know English and that he was boring anyway, claiming “I’m just an ordinary person, just like everybody else. The only difference is I’m out there on the ice and that’s it. I’d just rather talk about hockey.”

–> Without math or English, Semin’s career depended on his agent, Mark Gandler.

Try not to depend on Mark Gandler.

As the Globe and Mail put it, “to many Canadian hockey fans, Mark Gandler is nothing less than the Prince of Darkness.”

Mark Gandler’s business was based on presenting himself as a friendly face to young Russian athletes, and pissing of NHL franchises. I’m pro-pissing off the NHL in general; my problem with Gandler is that if he was sincerely trying to get the best deal for him clients, he was bad at it..

When anyone talks about something Semin decided, they’re talking about what Gandler decided for him. Semin was honest with the media that he had no fucking clue what Gandler was asking for in negotiations. The Caps and Gandler couldn’t agree on anything, so while Ovechkin was locked down for life, Semin was only ever signed to one and two year bridge contracts, constantly up, his performance a constant subject of discussion and every wobble obvious.

Note: the following is the bit where I got angry and A. asked why the hell I was looking at photos of this and told me to go lie on the floor and do my butterfly exercises for a while.

One year Semin’s game really sucked. It didn’t help that Ovechkin was sucking too—they both got benched, Coach got fired, and still the Capitals just kind of sucked. Around the league, Russian stars were mostly fizzling. That was the 2011-2012 season. 

On September 7, 2011, the airplane carrying the Lokomotiv Yaroslavl team, coaching staff, and four youth players had overrun the runway, struck a signal tower, crashed, and caught fire moments after takeoff. Every member of the team onboard was killed.

I can’t understand, so certainly can’t explain, how that day changed the community. I’m not trying to speculate too much on anyone’s personal situation, but to point out how much more profound it was than just some other league’s trivia.

I don’t think there’s a mainstream North American parallel for the hockey community in Eastern Europe. Players are raised in a small number of hockey schools, often at that time in dormitories like the one where Semin lived in Chelyabinsk. While young North Americans are quite strictly separated by age, the Russians are growing up with older and younger kids from the same school all around them. Older teens are encouraged to mentor younger ones—Kuznetsov’s attachment to Semin is endearing, but not really so weird. Stanislav Yarushin is several years older than Sasha, and he befriended him, and then down to Kuz. In a community like that, any one person is intimately connected to the others.

From the coaches to the rookies, someone from three generations across nine nations was killed in the disaster. Each of them was connected not only to their peers, but to players older and younger than them, and to the city that raised them. Every Russian, Czech, and Slovak in the NHL lost at least one person they knew deeply.

Just that spring, Kuznetsov won gold at World Juniors with a little clique of friends. Vladimir Tarasenko, Artemi Panarin, and Dmitry Orlov are stars now, and two of the others are dead.

Kuznetsov is the one draped in the flag. #14, with the awesome hair, smiling, is Danylo Sobchenko. #12, reaching up towards the cup, is Yuri Urychev. Urychev had been injured, and supposed to stay home the day of the disaster, but he asked to be allowed to fly with them, so he could cheer for his friends.

Tarasenko himself was born in Yaroslavl, and his father played for Lokomotiv; he knew even more of the team, and if he’d taken a hometown offer instead of signing with Sibir, he would have died that day too.

The thing about a loss like this is that it keeps budding with new losses. It hadn’t been a problem with the plane, or a freak accident. Over the following month a miserable investigation revealed that the airline had fudged documents, and the pilots just didn’t know what they were doing. So as well as losing friends, the younger players lost any trust that people in authority were going to keep them safe in the future.

After the disaster, Ovechkin, Semin, and Malkin had to hold their phones waiting while Alexander Galimov (a friend from nationals) was found with burns over 80% of his body, stabilized, transported, placed in a medically-induced coma and ventilated. He finally died five days later. The day he died Tarasenko and Kuznetsov and all the others got back on their own planes and kept playing, so the NHLers just had to keeping waiting up for them, too. Now Tarasenko and Kuznetsov have little brothers on those planes. They’re better fucking planes now, because the disaster changed Russian law, but they’re still not great.

In a grim way, Semin and Ovechkin were lucky, because they had each other. At the time almost no NHL team had as many Eastern Europeans as the Caps, meaning almost all the others were alone.

Of course it just wasn’t possible for the North American public to grieve with them the way that Europe did, but how quickly it was boxed away and forgotten as a factor in players’ lives just…sucks.

You don’t just grieve somebody when you lose them; people who aren’t sure what to say will say it fades with time, but what it really does is rise and fall in waves. You grieve them when you lose them, and again when you’re as old as they were and realize how insufficient it really was, and again, when you’re older than they’ll ever be, when you’re old enough to see children their age. Like injuring your wrist, you can get back to work, but never back to exactly what you were before. 

Five years later, when Tarasenko scored his 100th goal, he dedicated it to Sobchenko and Urychev. 

Most of a decade later, Alex Ovechkin wears the Lokomotiv crest on his chest protector, over his heart.

So if we know all that, we can start to imagine why they sucked at hockey.

Actually, after a slow start to the season, Sasha sucked the least of all the Capitals. Always a stronger possession player than Ovechkin, Sasha actually recovered after the Caps brought in Dale Hunter, who ripped up the Goals First, Goals Always game plan and tried to make Ovi play defense. Sasha ended the season with the best possession metrics on the team (yes, including Nicke Backstrom). 

His goal-scoring didn’t recover, but that was because Coach Dale was basically treating him like Ovi’s security blanket, putting him on the second line with Mojo so Ovi couldn’t cuddle him until Ovi backchecked. Mojo (this is a Science fact) is not Nicke Backstrom.

The reason the Capitals traded Semin is they desperately needed to trade someone to make up for the team’s collective failures that year, he could be traded due to his shitty contracts, and he was worth trading. 

I’m not actually angry the Caps traded Semin. It made sense. I am mad the Habs did, because it was one of many decisions made by Marc Bergevin coughing up a heavily-gelled hairball on a depth chart, but hey.

Sports is hard. I don’t mean that teams should keep players who aren’t playing the way that team needs them to out of sympathy. I mean that it’s possible to say that Semin or Ovechkin sometimes play badly without saying they don’t care. It’s possible to name a practical problem without making it a moral one.

Because when we see someone not doing what we want, and we make it moral, we say, “well gosh, I can’t imagine a reason why they aren’t jazzed to do what I want right now, so there can’t be a reason, they just suck,” we’re always wrong, because we miss shit!

In 2011, the common complaint that Russian players “don’t seem to care” went from boring to breathtakingly cruel. 

It’s a collective failure of empathy, where a lot of us didn’t even know that empathy’s needed. How many NHL fans don’t know Lokomotiv existed? If we don’t even know what weight another person’s carrying, we can’t possibly judge them rightly! 

The athletes we’re watching aren’t just cartoon characters for American consumption, who always act and react in easily-readable ways. They’re people with beliefs, behaviors, and problems which might be meaningfully different from what we’re personally familiar with and really hard to sympathize with.  

But when we see someone struggling to do what we want them to, we have to wonder why, and look around to learn more about moments like this, and then offer empathy. I believe that if we have information, most people use it to be kind. So we really fucking need historical information.

I’m back on the floor and don’t have a closer, so here’s a picture of a cat with big mitts like Sasha. His name is Peppers.

[cruelangelstheses]

the path to girlhood

fandom: love live! rating: T characters: rin hoshizora, hanayo koizumi words: 3.9k additional tags: character study, au, trans girl rin, bullying, internalized transphobia, high school description: rin struggles to accept herself at her new school when she discovers a love for dancing. a/n: hello hello!! i wrote this a little over a month ago and decided to finally polish it and post it! this au is pretty similar to canon except that they’re just regular high school girls and not idols. i promise it’s not as angsty as the tags make it seem!! i will never write write a fic in which rin hoshizora is cis. happy pride to my fellow Transes of Gender <3 title comes from kururin miracle aka rin’s Trans Song. i love her so much. that's my fuckign daughter

read it on ao3

—

On the first day of high school, Rin Hoshizora goes to school in a skirt.

She hasn’t worn one out in public since she was a child, having resigned herself to hiding inside hoodies and sweatpants. As she wanders the unfamiliar hallways, Rin tries not to be conscious of the way some of her peers sneak curious glances at her from behind notebooks or open locker doors. If nothing else, she hopes the button on her backpack—a striped flag of pink, white, and blue—will be enough to clue them in, if any of them even know what it symbolizes.

Last month, Rin’s parents successfully enrolled her into the local but relatively well-regarded Otonokizaka Academy for Girls, mainly thanks to “proof” from her doctor that she has, in fact, started taking hormones and that she is, in fact, a Real Trans Girl, whatever that means. It’s an old, impressive school with plenty of extracurriculars and classes to choose from, and her best friend, Hanayo, goes there, too. Most importantly, though, it’s a chance to reinvent herself, to meet new people who don’t know her dead name—to make a statement, simply by wearing the Otonokizaka uniform and sitting in an Otonokizaka classroom, that says, I am a girl just as you are.

So far, it doesn’t feel quite as empowering as she thought it would.

Instead, she feels like a newborn baby, cut from the umbilical cord of the closet, naked and confused as she’s thrust into a strange new world. There’s no turning back now, no chance to abort the mission. All she can do is step forward into the light, with all the beauty and danger that it brings.

—

When Rin steps into her homeroom class, a soft, familiar voice calls out, “Rin-chan!”

Hanayo jumps up out of her chair and scurries over, her red glasses bouncing on her face. Rin grins and wraps her arms around her, squeezing her tightly, and for just a moment, she forgets about the rest of the world. There’s nothing outside this classroom, nothing outside her best friend’s warm embrace.

Rin opens her mouth to say something, anything—a how have you been or a help me please I don’t know if I can do this—but she doesn’t get the chance, because then the bell rings, and the homeroom teacher strides into the room. In a flurry, the students rush to their desks. Hanayo has saved a seat for Rin in the back, right next to her, and Rin sighs in relief as she slides into the chair.

While the teacher introduces herself, Rin scans the room, searching for any sign of a reaction from her classmates. Most of them are facing forward, listening or at least pretending to listen to the teacher. One girl sitting a few seats away pokes her friend on the shoulder and gestures to Rin. “Wow,” she mutters, just loud enough that it’s clear she wants Rin to hear it. “They’ll let anyone in this school, huh?”

Rin’s face heats up, and she quickly looks away, down at her empty notebook. In an attempt to seem nonchalant, she pulls a pen out of her pencil case and starts doodling a cat to distract herself. She likes her short hair—it’s cute and easy to manage, and it doesn’t get in her face when she’s playing sports—but suddenly she wishes it were longer so she could hide behind it. That probably wouldn’t work too well, though—before long, she’s sure her peers will be able to recognize her just by her decidedly unfeminine frame.

“Psst,” Hanayo whispers, and Rin turns her head to look at her. Hanayo props up her notebook horizontally. On an otherwise clean page, she’s written in pretty, curly handwriting, I believe in you! with little hearts all around it.

Rin flashes her a tiny smile and mouths a thank-you, but she still can’t shake the feeling that everything about her is wrong. Her knees are too knobby, her handwriting isn’t neat enough, her voice is too loud. She feels like a randomized Sim, like someone just threw together a collection of traits and lumped them all into a person. She’d like to give the spirits a “You Tried” sticker.

—

Rin likes talking to people. She likes jumping in on a conversation about athletics or music or pets and talking about her favorite type of cat (orange tabbies, obviously) or her favorite sports (how could she choose just one?). She likes introducing herself to those who look shy or lonely—in fact, it’s how she met Hanayo. Today, though, she finds herself infuriatingly tongue-tied, stumbling over her words in a way she never has before. Though she attempts, as always, to appear friendly, most of the girls she talks to seem to be at least somewhat uncomfortable with or uninterested in her presence, as if they’re just waiting for her to go away. The last thing Rin wants is to make someone unhappy or upset, so once she senses that she isn’t quite welcome in a particular group or conversation, she politely withdraws from it.

When Rin walks into the bathroom, all the girls that were hanging out and doing their makeup immediately grab their things and leave.

Rin overhears a few more rude comments throughout the day, but no one is overly confrontational. She finds herself pondering over girls and the way they show aggression—how girls who speak disparagingly about others behind their backs are referred to as “catty,” while physical fights between girls are often called “catfights.” Either way, aggressive or passive-aggressive, dealing in physical damage or emotional, girls are consistently compared to cats. It’s unfair to cats, Rin thinks, to associate them only with animosity and violence. Cats can be sweet and loving, too. Cats wouldn’t hate her just for wearing skirts or referring to herself as a “she.”

“Rin-chan,” Hanayo says later that day when they walk home from school together, “are you going to join any clubs or activities? They’ve got a lot of sports.”

“I might do soccer,” Rin replies, “and maybe basketball in the winter. But I’ll have to try it out first to see if I like it.”

Hanayo raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Rin loves soccer; they both know she loves soccer. What Rin’s really saying is, I’ll have to see if I’m treated in a way that deters me from playing.

“Well, if you don’t like it,” Hanayo says delicately, “you could do other sports that aren’t team-oriented. There’s track and cross-country. And there’s dance.”

“Dance?” Rin repeats. “What makes you think I’d be any good at that?”

“Well, you’re so coordinated, and you have really good stamina,” Hanayo says, twirling a strand of light brown hair. “And you like music. It looks like it’d be really fun.”

“You should do it, then,” Rin says, not unkindly.

Hanayo chuckles sheepishly. “I’d like to, but I’ve been too nervous to go by myself. Maybe you could come with me? Just to the first couple of meetings.”

Rin frowns. It’s not that she dislikes the idea of dancing, necessarily; she’s just never considered it. Dancing is for pretty girls with limbs as pliable as putty and skin softer than rose petals, not a scrappy little transgender tomboy with scraped-up knees and a finger that didn’t heal properly because she took it out of the splint before she was supposed to. Dancing is for girls who would never be mistaken for boys.

“The people there seem really nice,” Hanayo adds. “And I’ll be with you, remember?”

After a few moments, Rin finds herself nodding slowly. “Okay,” she says, trying to picture herself dancing to pop music or classical arrangements. It doesn’t quite feel right. “But if it falls on the same day as soccer, I’m choosing soccer.”

—

At the first soccer practice, they have a scrimmage against one another. It’s a perfect chance for Rin to show her teammates what she can do, to earn their trust and start to build camaraderie just like when she played on boys’ teams. Within the first few minutes of the mock game, however, it becomes abundantly clear that most of the girls have no interest in establishing a rapport with her. Some shift uncomfortably whenever she’s near. Others, especially those on defense, play particularly aggressively with her, pressing so close to her that they almost touch, nearly shoving her out of the way, or “accidentally” kicking at her heels when attempting to steal the ball from her. Nearly all of them seem to refuse to pass her the ball, even when she’s wide open, and even though she’s one of the fastest and most experienced members, so that the only times she ever actually manages to get it are when she steals it from the other side. The coach claps whenever Rin scores a goal, but hardly anyone else does, and it only seems to be out of politeness.

At the end of the practice, Rin is about ready to fall over in exhaustion, but not in a good way. She doesn’t think she’s ever had to work so hard in her life to try to make people like her, or at least play nice with her.

Hanayo texts her that evening. How’d it go?

Not great :-( I think I’ll come with you tomorrow to the dance club, Rin responds.

Hanayo’s reply comes a few seconds later. Oh no I’m so sorry!! Tomorrow will be better I promise!!

Rin sighs and flops down on her bed. “I sure hope so,” she mumbles to no one as she stares blankly across the room. A dress she bought online hangs on her closet door, unworn.

—

The room used for the dance club is similar to a gymnasium, except that it’s smaller and has walls made entirely of mirrors. When Rin steps out onto the hardwood floor and sees a few other girls chatting in the center of the room with a dance instructor, her chest tightens.

Beside her, Hanayo takes a deep breath. “I’m nervous, too,” she says, taking Rin’s hand in her own. “But we’re here together.”

They amble up to the small group, and the dance instructor turns to them with a smile. “Oh! It’s so good to see some new faces,” she says. “You can call me Miyazaki-sensei.”

“Hi,” Rin and Hanayo say in unison. They both giggle nervously.

“Hey, there’s no need to be nervous!” says a spunky girl with a side ponytail. “Anyone can learn to dance. I’m living proof! Plus it’d make great material for the talent show!”

Rin and Hanayo exchange glances. “Talent show?” Rin says.

“Yeah!” the girl says. “Every year right before summer break, the school holds a talent show. Anyone can enter! It’s really fun! Last year Kotori-chan, Umi-chan, and I performed as a trio,” she gestures to the other two girls in the room, “and we’re hoping to do it again this year! Sign-ups should be—uhhh, Umi-chan, when are the sign-ups again?”

One of the girls, Umi, sighs in exasperation, but there’s a hint of a smile on her face. “Two Mondays from now. So not this coming Monday, but the one after that.”

“Great!” says the ponytail girl. Turning back to Rin and Hanayo, she adds, “Are you two friends? You should perform as a duo! It would be so cute! I bet I could find the perfect song for you guys—”

Miyazaki holds up a hand. “Why don’t we see if they actually enjoy it first, hm?” she says, amused.

First, they go around and introduce themselves. Miyazaki and the other girls seem nice enough; in fact, Rin thinks she saw Honoka, the ponytail girl, smile and wave at her as she walked into Otonokizaka on the first day of class. She appears to just love and accept everyone; her sincerity is almost childish, but charming nonetheless.

Then they get into the dancing. The three other girls, all second years, seem to know what they’re doing when it comes to planning their performance, so Miyazaki spends most of her time teaching Rin and Hanayo some simple moves to a handful of familiar pop songs.

Slowly, Rin can’t help but unfold. The satisfaction that blooms in her chest whenever she gets a move right, when she shifts her body perfectly to the rhythm of the music, is such a pleasant shock to her system that she feels herself letting her guard down, opening up. She and Hanayo laugh whenever they screw up a step, and no matter how many times they fail, Miyazaki’s patience and attentiveness never waver. When Rin glances over at the other girls, she finds them completely absorbed in their practice; only occasionally does she notice any of them looking her way, and when they do, it’s not with the piercing eyes of judgment, but the joy of sharing in something they love. In this room, Rin doesn’t have to worry about how others see her. She can just be.

—

Hanayo and Rin attend every dance rehearsal together. It’s a small, close-knit group, and even though they aren’t all working together on the same exact thing, Rin can feel that sense of camaraderie that she’s been missing. They’re all constantly looking to improve, to try new things, to create something lively and beautiful. The world is their canvas, their bodies the brushes, the music the paint. For Rin, dancing becomes an unexpected refuge. In the dance room, no one throws crumpled-up papers at her head or tries to trip her down the stairs; no one whispers ugly words in her ear as she walks by.

After hours of deliberation on both their parts, and a lot of convincing (read: begging) on Honoka’s part, Rin and Hanayo decide to take her suggestion and sign up for the talent show as a dancing duo. Honoka apparently spends an inordinate amount of time picking out the perfect song for them, an upbeat tune from an upcoming idol about accepting oneself. “Trust me,” she says, “the audience will love it. Idols are all the rage these days.”

Rin suspects that Honoka picked it out on purpose for its lyrics, but for what it’s worth, it is a catchy song, the kind of song that makes Rin want to jump up and dance whenever she hears it. Luckily for her, that’s exactly what she’s going to do.

Miyazaki helps them come up with the choreography, and they spend the next few months working avidly to perfect it. Even on weekends, they often meet up at one of their houses and practice for hours. Only if they feel that they did the best they possibly could will either of them feel comfortable enough to get up onstage and let hundreds of potentially unforgiving eyes gaze upon them.

Every once in a while, a particularly nasty comment or incident will give Rin pause, and she’ll feel an almost overwhelming urge to beg Hanayo to let them drop out of the talent show. She wouldn’t do that, though; she’d never want to force her best friend to turn her back on an opportunity just for her. Besides, she’ll be okay as long as Hanayo is there with her.

—

The day before the talent show, Hanayo isn’t in school.

During lunch, Rin calls her in a panic in one of the bathroom stalls. “What’s going on?” she hisses. “Our final rehearsal is tonight! Where are you?”

“I have pneumonia,” Hanayo replies.

Rin feels like the floor is falling out from underneath her. Words crowd in her mouth, but all that comes out is, “In summer?”

Hanayo chuckles halfheartedly. “Yeah. I think I got it from my grandfather. You know his immune system isn’t the best. I don’t think I’ll be able to—” She breaks off into a fit of coughing. “I can’t come tonight. I don’t think I’ll be able to perform tomorrow. I went to the doctor yesterday after school, and he says I need to rest until the antibiotics start working.”

Rin recalls the past few days, how Hanayo had been coughing for a little while and seemed more out of breath than usual. She’d hoped it was just a cold, that it would go away in no time. Now Hanayo is sick in bed, her lungs filled with fluid, and they’re scheduled to perform tomorrow.

“Kayo-chin, I—I can’t do it on my own,” she says, her heart starting to race at the thought of standing alone on that stage.

“Sure you can,” Hanayo says. “Just…finish the school day and then go to rehearsal. I’m sure Miyazaki-sensei can help you out.” Then she hangs up before Rin has the chance to argue.

The rest of her classes are a blur. Her mind spins with worst-case scenarios, and her hands shake too much for her to even try to doodle. She speaks to no one, afraid that if she opens her mouth, nothing coherent will come out.

As soon as the dismissal bell rings, Rin snatches her things and races down the hall to the dance room. Her hands are so full that she kicks the door open with her foot.

Miyazaki flashes a smile at her, but it quickly dissipates once she sees the look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

Rin drops her things on the floor against the wall. “Kayo-chin’s sick,” she says breathlessly. “Pneumonia. She can’t perform tomorrow. We have to drop out. I can’t do it without her; we have to drop out—”

Miyazaki holds up both her hands. “Whoa, whoa, slow down. Deep breaths, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

Rin nods reluctantly and tries to steady her breathing. She hears the door open and close behind her, and then Honoka says, “Where’s Hanayo-chan?”

“She’s sick,” Miyazaki says calmly. “Rin’s probably going to have to perform by herself tomorrow.”

“Oh dear,” Kotori says. “I hope she gets better soon.”

“Rin-chan can do it, though!” Honoka says. “We’ve all seen her in action. She’ll do great!”

Rin shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

“It shouldn’t be too difficult,” Umi adds matter-of-factly. “You two were basically doing the same moves, right? It’s not like you were ballroom dancing. You won’t have to change much of the choreography to turn it into a solo act. And we can help you.”

Rin shakes her head again, faster. “It’s not that. I’m not worried about how I’ll do. I’m worried about how it’ll look. I’m not one of those pretty girls everyone loves. I’m different. And everyone’s eyes will be on me and no one else. I’ll be the center of attention…and I just don’t know if I can deal with how they’ll react to that. It suits me to be a partner or a member of a group, so I can blend in more, so someone else can shine. I can’t be the girl who shines. Not like this.”

“Of course you can!” Honoka blurts. “People are afraid of what they don’t understand. But you’re a girl just like the rest of us. Now’s your chance to show everyone. You’re at the Otonokizaka Academy for Girls, aren’t you?”

“But I tried to show everyone,” Rin says, her shoulders slumping. “That’s what I thought going to this school would do. But people still treat me like I’m just too different for them. Like I’m a failed girl, like I’m the wrong kind of girl.”

It’s Miyazaki who speaks up next.

“Then that’s their problem,” she says, “not yours. There’s no such thing as a ‘wrong kind of girl.’ There are girls with short hair and girls who love sports and girls who like to work on cars and girls who wear tuxedos and girls who like to build things—and girls who were mistakenly raised as boys. And the sooner you come to terms with that, the sooner you can be free of what others think of you. People are going to judge you no matter what you do. So if dancing brings you joy, and you want to share that joy with other people, then I want you to dance your heart out on that stage tomorrow.”

For a moment, all is silent. Then Rin chuckles sheepishly. She’s right. Of course she’s right.

“Okay,” she says finally. “Who wants to help me touch up this choreography?”

—

It’s the day before summer break, and the air buzzes with excitement. Even from backstage, Rin can feel her classmates’ gazes from out in the auditorium. Her heart feels like it’s going to claw its way out of her chest and make a run for it, and part of her wants to follow suit. Deep down, though, she knows she’s ready. She’s worked as hard as she possibly could. She’s going to stay, and she’s going to perform like her life depends on it. She has to, for Hanayo.

Rin adjusts her earrings and checks her makeup one final time in the backstage mirror before Miyazaki pops her head in. “Honoka, Kotori, and Umi are almost done,” she says. “You’re up.”

Rin smooths out her dress, a cute pastel pink, the very same one she bought online over the winter. It’s her first time wearing it in public, and it fits her like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle. She takes a deep breath and glances down at her phone, which glows brightly with a new text message from Hanayo. I believe in you!! it reads, followed by a bunch of heart emojis.

Rin smiles, then fixes the pink barrette in her hair and heads out to the curtain area.

Honoka, Kotori, and Umi are walking offstage when Rin arrives. “You’ll do great!” Honoka whispers to her as she walks by, giving her a brief, sweaty hug. Kotori claps enthusiastically, and Umi puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Up next,” the principal says from the sound box, “we have Rin Hoshizora!”

The crowd claps politely. Rin tries her best not to look at any of them as she ambles onto the stage; her focus is only on the music and her body.

When she hears the opening of the song, all the fear and self-consciousness that’s been building up in her seems to fade away, replaced by instinct and muscle memory. She knows how to do this. She’s been doing it multiple days a week for months now.

For most of the first verse, the crowd is silent, as if they aren’t quite sure what to make of her. Then, when she bounces across the stage as the song shifts into the chorus, a few people whoop and cheer, and that’s all Rin needs to keep herself moving, to let the melody carry her home. She’s never felt more beautiful, more purely and authentically her. There’s so much she often hates about her body, but right now, she’s thankful for everything that makes her up, from her long limbs to her rectangular frame. Dancing, she’s discovered, isn’t just for conventionally attractive cis girls. It’s for anyone, as long as they have the passion and the resolve.

Honoka was right about the song choice—by the end, some people are clapping and dancing along, even singing the parts that they know. When Rin finishes the song with a smile, a wink, and a pose, the crowd responds in raucous applause. More than a few people in the audience seem shocked, and several others are smirking, shaking their heads, or mumbling to each other.

And yet, Rin finds it doesn’t particularly bother her. She’s realized something about this sudden turnaround: their acceptance of her is conditional, but her happiness is not. If being herself makes others uncomfortable…well, that’s their problem, not hers.

[morallygreyprompts]

Hero at Knifepoint by Stalker Villain Continuation #2

Post 1 here

Tw: for possessiveness and evil ‘partner’ if you could call them that. Character death without gore description.

Villain thought hard, and they thought fast. They had to stall, at the very least that sham wedding, give Hero a chance.

“Fine,” they said, stepping to the side. “You win- but you do know they’re already married, right? If you were to marry them right now, it’d be void.”

Hero’s eyes grew wide and they glared at Villain. No, they weren’t married, not even close. Villain’s confident calmer manner seemed to give them a little faith.

“What are you talking about?” Other Villain snapped, “Of course they aren’t- do you think I wouldn’t know?!”

“A.Another country,” Hero cheeped. “They’re living abroad, it was a bad marriage, didn’t last long. I tried to forget.” They flinched badly as Other Villain yanked them closer.

“You married someone else?” Other Villain seethed. Villain saw their fist clench.

“Hey, hey! Don’t be getting angry at them,” they reasoned. “You said it yourself, you know best- [Hero] won’t have known what was best for them. But now you’ve got them, you can do what’s best for them. Do [Hero] a service, bump off that horrible spouse. Hell, I’m sure they’ll fall for you then. They’ll finally realise how great you really are.”

Villain didn’t want to look at Hero’s face, the way they mewled and sent pleading looks. Looks for them to shut up. Villain could only hope their own expression read ‘trust me’.

“You’re right… I can free my lover- we can be together!”

“Yes,” Hero whispered. “Please… please move the knife. Y.You’re scaring me.”

Other Villain hesitated, seeing the gun in Henchman’s hand. They looked to Villain who nodded and the gun fell to the floor. Henchman scooted it away to the side and Villain tossed their knife.

“I’m not here to stop you, mate. I see now you’re the perfect fit for [Hero], but don’t hurt them though, yeah? I’m sure you know you need to look after them now, you won’t need to fight with them any more. They’re yours.”

Other Villain moved the knife a from their throat and Hero released a breath they hadn’t realised they were holding.

“[Villain],” Hero choked out a sob.

“Tears of happiness, I see?” Villain lied. “Trust me, [Hero], you’re going to be okay. Give it a day and you’ll be even happier.” Hell, they hoped they got that message.

Other Villain grinned and dragged them away. “We’ll postpone the wedding until we get rid of this nuisance,” they murmured in Hero’s ear. “You’ll have to tell me all you can so I can find them.”

“They’ve probably hidden by now- they probably didn’t even tell me their real name.”

Villain watched powerlessly as Other Villain took them tightly by the hand and led them out. 

Villain grabbed their knife off the floor. “Call the lads, they’re looking for a car.” Villain watched carefully as Other Villain and Hero came into view, getting into a car. Villain rattled off the colour, brand, and registration plate.

Henchman hun gup the phone. “What the hell was all that about? They ain’t married!”

“Time, [Henchman]. I had to buy them time. I fully plan to get them out of there by tomorrow morning, but this means they’ll crawl back to their cave and wait there while they’re asking [Hero] about this mysterious spouse. Come on, we don’t have long.”

[I’m gonna miss out the search and jump straight to where Villain finds Hero. Hope you don’t mind.]

Calling Other Villain’s base a cave hadn’t been that much of an exaggeration. They had the long-forgotten basement of a historic hotel, or perhaps they owned the hotel too. Villain wasn’t sure but their only priority was finding Hero and getting them out of here. This had already taken far too long, and they could only hope their plan hadn’t blown up in Hero’s face. If they were hurt- Villain shuddered. No, Hero was clever, they’d be able to look after themselves.

Getting into the hotel was easy, all they had to do was pose as a customer, but the basement was a little harder to get to. It took knocking out a similar-sized member of staff, taking their uniform and hiding them in a cupboard to get through to the kitchens. The door that led to the basement was locked, rusty, and long since forsaken judging by the crates piled in front of it. There was no way they were going to get through unnoticed.

Plan B. They took their lighter and snatched up a pair of blunt scissors, retreating to the empty corridor where the fire alarm was. Working fast, they wedged the tissue in between the scissors, set a tissue on fire and held it up to the alarm. It screamed beautifully. Villain hid in the same cupboard as the unconscious staff worker and the building was emptied.

Villain asked fast, dragging the crates of vegetables away and smacking the old lock off the door with a meat cleaver.

“Sesame,” they murmured as it swung open. They just hoped the noise hadn’t put Hero in any further danger.

Time wasn’t on their side anymore. They rushed down the stairs, quickly realising there was no light to greet them. Villain paused in the basement, Hero wasn’t here, there had to be something they’d missed. Using their lighter, Villain looked around. There were footprints in the dark, some barefoot. “[Hero],” they realised. They bent over to follow the tracks and found that they suddenly stopped by a tile. Trap door; a basement in a basement.

Villain carefully lifted up the tile, groping in the dark for the edges of the tile, the best handholds. They gritted their teeth and lifted using only their fingertips. It took a great deal of effort but they managed to move the tile ever so slightly, lifting one corner onto the edge of the next tile. From there it was much easier to drag it away. Beams of light rushed up to meet them.

With one last glance to the darkness around them, Villain climbed down.

The sight repulsed them. Hero was curled up in the corner of the room surrounded by articles of gold and silver and jewels. The bed was untouched, despite a long chain tethering them to the bedpost by the wrists. They’d been too frightened to even think about sleeping. There was a desk with writing materials strewn about, Villain guessed Hero had been told to write everything down about their mystery spouse. But the thing that made their stomach curdle was the mannequin, looking terribly similar to Hero, wearing wedding clothes. A threat of Hero’s fate if Villain wasn’t able to get them out of here.

“[Hero],” Villain said gently. They flinched, showing a few more bruises than when Hero had left them, more swelling as the hours had passed by and now they looked so much worse.

Hero lifted their head up slowly, their glassy eyes widening. “You came...” 

Villain rushed to crouch down beside them. “Of course I came for you. What you thought I meant what I’d said up there? [Hero], I despise myself for that act I had to put on.”

Hero stayed quiet, looking away. Villain pulled them close, stroking their hair. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to stall for time and not get you hurt- they haven’t hurt you more, have they?”

Hero shook their head tiredly. Villain nodded slowly. “Okay, okay, good. Can you give me your hands? I’ll unlock these for you.”

A mistake. Villain was facing away from the trapdoor, oblivious as Other Villain crept inside, making eerily no noise as they landed on the floor, raising the meat cleaver above their head. 

“I knew you couldn’t keep away,” Other Villain growled. Villain turned quickly, only just managing to avoid the blade and shield Hero from harm. Hero screamed in fear and Villain leapt up to their knees to fight for control of the weapon. It was a losing battle, Villain knew that from this position they were helpless.

They fell back with a grunt, waiting for the blade to come crashing down into their chest, maybe even their face. It never came. Other Villain stood in shock, the cleaver falling from their hands and landing on Villain’s shoe. How it didn’t go through and hit their foot, Villain had no clue. Other Villain’s face distorted with pain, and that’s when Villain saw it.

Henchman. They’d stabbed Other Villain in the back.

“You get your filthy hands away from my boss,” they seethed. Henchman drove Other Villain down to their knees and let them fall onto the floor.

“[Hero]...” they breathed. Then they were gone.

“Are you alright?” Henchman said. “I saw them coming into the building, thought I’d warn you. Looks like I came in the nick of time.” 

“You sure as hell did... thank you.” Villain scooped Hero up again, turning their face away from Other Villain’s body. They were shaking. Villain could only imagine how terrified they’d been, of Other Villain, of being lost to them.

“Shh,” Villain whispered. “Come on, let’s get you home. This is all over now. You’re safe.” Henchman searched Other Villain’s body for the key. Finding it, they quickly released Hero from the chains. They collected a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around them for the shock.

“You’re alright now, sir/miss,” they reassured them. “Boss, we should get moving before the fire engines get here. If they see the door open...”

Villain nodded, helping Hero up on shaky feet. “I’m never going to leave you when you need help. I promise, [Hero]... I love you.” Hero wrapped their arms around them tight, hiding their face in Villain’s chest. Villain kissed the top of their head, but their eyes could not help but slip over to Other Villain, glaring at them.

“Thank you… for everything,” they whimpered.

[specialagentsnark]

Marriage of Choice - Chapter 2

I promise I meant to get this up Tuesday. It’s been a rough week. Things are settling down now. I will post chapter 3 on this coming Tuesday on here and then on AO3 on Friday. Maybe. Probably. We’ll see. Geez, I’m tired. Let’s just get on with the fic, yeah? Chapter summary: Kili's doomed. Fili's busy. Tea is weird.

Chapter 2

The moment Oin gave him permission, Kili went to the forges and created a set of plain beads for Tauriel. He couldn’t officially propose, but no one ever said that a lesser prince couldn’t give beads of promise. If anything, it made his life easier. Tauriel was his One. Acknowledging her as such publicly kept him from having to go through the entire courtship mess Fili would have to.

With the beads finished, he just had to ask her.

He agonized. He planned. He plotted. He threw out the plans and plots and started again. He thought and thought and thought but nothing seemed worthy of Tauriel. What could he possibly do to properly express his devotion to his One? Did others have this problem?

Sitting in a council meeting, watching his uncle cast glances at the Company’s burglar, Kili realized that yes, others did. Uncle Thorin had pined, mooned, and dithered over Bilbo for the entire journey to Erebor. Kili had thought things would change on the Carrock when Uncle had embraced Bilbo, but, much to almost everyone’s irritation, nothing did.

That didn’t matter now. They were married. Thorin was king. Bilbo was his consort. And Kili still couldn’t figure out how to ask his One if he could court her.

He was doomed.

Would it be a bad thing if he suddenly started beating his head on the council room table? Looking at it, he wondered if someone had done just that at some point. The dents in front of him seemed to indicate such a thing.

Finally, the meeting adjourned and Kili slunk out of the room before anyone could stop him. He needed to think .

He couldn’t find Tauriel anywhere inside the mountain. After asking around, he learned that she’d headed out with a bow and quiver. The dwarf on guard at the gates couldn’t tell him which way she’d gone. He hadn’t cared to pay attention to the elf.

Annoyed, Kili went in search of Balin. After ascertaining he didn’t have anything he had to do for his uncle or the good of the kingdom, he bundled up, grabbed his own bow and quiver, and left the mountain, ignoring the guard’s protest that no one was to leave the mountain unescorted.

“Then why did you allow Tauriel to leave?” Kili snapped. The guard blinked in surprise, taken aback by his outburst. “Tauriel has saved lives of Durin’s line multiple times-” two was considered multiple, right? Three if he counted the incident with the giant spiders “-and our people owe her much for her aid in The Battle. Now back to your post. I’ll be reporting you to Captain Dwalin when I return.”

The dwarf blanched beneath his beard but stood to attention, not offering further protest.

Grumbling under his breath, Kili took in his surroundings, trying to decide if he were Tauriel, which way would he go? With no clues to go on, he started his way along the base of the mountain, heading toward Mirkwood. Game would come from that direction just as well as any other. Either that or game would be heading that way, in search of food as well as shelter from the oncoming snow and ice.

He walked, slogging through the muddy remains of the first snows . His efforts and clothing kept him warm as he searched the area for any sign that Tauriel might have passed that way.

Elves and their unfair advantages in the snow and muck. She probably danced across the top without getting a drop of grime on her clothing .

Then again, her advantages could well help them through the winter, bringing in fresh meat instead of all the dried and cured supplies Dain’s troops had brought with them.

The silence pressed in on him, broken only by his own breathing and the susurrations of his clothing and the squelching of mud under his boots. Some of his unease from earlier in the day quieted and he concentrated on his task, scanning the horizon in front of him.

A green and brown dot not too far away caught his attention after a couple hour’s trudging through the muck .

“There you are,” he muttered and changed course so he headed straight toward it.

It took another half an hour, but he finally reached Tauriel. She sat on top of a boulder. As he expected, there wasn’t so much as a smear of mud on her. She didn’t move as he approached, just sat, staring out at the distance .

“Do you mind that I came to find you?” Kili asked as he stopped beside her.

“Not at all,” she said, finally pulling her eyes away from the desolation. “Join me?”

He looked pointedly at where she sat on top of the boulder. He could climb it, if he really wanted, but there didn’t seem to be much room for him to sit.

Tauriel laughed, the sound rolling across the plain before them and Kili felt a grin tug at his lips. He loved hearing her laugh. Tauriel jumped from her boulder and landed next to him without even the slightest sound of a splash in the mud.

“ Elves and their unfair advantages in nasty conditions .” Kili grumbled good-naturedly . “What are you doing out here anyway?” he asked.

“Enjoying the peace,” Tauriel said. “I’m afraid I’ve been feeling a little cooped up within Erebor.”

Kili could have cursed himself. She was an elf. A creature of nature and woods and open expanse beneath the stars. Being continuously within the mountain must grate against her very being.

“You don’t have to stay in Erebor,” Kili told her, aiming for reassuring instead of pathetically begging.

Tauriel smiled at him. She reached out and took his hand. “I think I do,” she said. “I’d hate to be parted from my heart.”

Kili breathed a sigh of relief. “We’ll find ways to get you outside,” he promised. “Join all the hunting parties and scouting parties.”

“Will you be able to?” Tauriel asked. “You are a Prince of Erebor, after all.”

“I’m the younger prince,” he reminded her with a shrug. “I have some duties, sure, but Fili’s the one people really want around, him being the heir and all.”

Tauriel didn’t react to the self-deprecation in his tone. “Then we will hunt orcs and game in your spare time,” she agreed. “For now, we should probably return to the Mountain before someone sends a search party out for their missing prince.”

~*~*~

By the time they returned to the mountain, they’d managed to bag a few hares. There wasn’t much meat on them, but any food was always welcome in Bombur’s kitchens. The humans taking refuge in Erebor from the supposed on-coming storms (and Kili silently agreed with those predicting them. There was something in the air and the clouds looked the right color, slightly green, for snow) walked toward the kitchens and the adjoining room where everyone would eat just ahead of them. He recognized Bard’s three children immediately, the eldest daughter leading the small group.

“I’ll meet you in just a minute,” he promised Tauriel. “I’ll just take these to Bombur first.” He lifted the hares before crossing the room, heading for the kitchen beyond it. It took him a little while to find the robust dwarf and when he finally did and left, he stopped by the table where the Bardlings had sat down with bowls of stew.

“Who let you three into the Mountain?” he asked as he plopped onto the bench next to Tilda.

“Kili!” she cried and threw her arms around him. “I’d heard you were better but I’m so glad to see it too!”

“Nothing could keep me down for long,” he said with a grin. “How are you?”

“We’re fine, Prince Kili,” Sigrid said.

“And your father?”

“Back in Dale,” Bain said and bit into the thick slice of bread that accompanied his steaming bowl of stew.

“He’s fine,” Sigrid added. “He’s helping the rest of our people gather what they can before they come to take refuge here.”

Kili nodded. “He’s a good man, your father,” he said. “He’ll make a wonderful Lord of Dale.”

“Don’t let Da hear you say that,” Tilda said. “He doesn’t want to lead anyone.”

“But he’ll rise to the occasion,” Kili said confidently. “A man like your father won’t risk your people to another man that might turn out to be like Laketown’s former Master.”

“I’m afraid you’re right,” Sigrid said with a sigh. “Which means we’ll all be expected to live differently as well.”

‘Not too differently, I expect,” Kili said with a smile he hoped was comforting. “You all seem to have level heads on your shoulders. I doubt you’ll let something like nobility change you.”

“But it does change expectations put on us,” Sigrid said and she poked a bit at her stew.

“It’s nothing you should be worrying about now,” Kili told her. “We all need to survive this winter first. I expect we’ll all be working just as hard as the common man and dwarf to make this place liveable.  Might even do you some good on that front. If you’re seen working alongside your people, they’ll respect you more and expect you to act less like a snooty noble.”

“Do you really think so?” Tilda asked. “I don’t want my friends to treat me differently.”

“It’s worked so far for my family,” Kili told her and ruffled her hair. “Just take it a day at a time. You’ll see.”

“Thank you, Prince Kili,” Sigrid said.

“You’re welcome. And none of this ‘Prince’ nonsense. I’m Kili, especially to those that have put me on a table with a bowl of walnuts for a pillow while I was delirious with fever.”

Tilda and Bain both snickered at that. He winked at Sigrid before standing and going over to where Tauriel stood with Bilbo. The hobbit stepped away with a kind smile at Tauriel as Kili approached.

“He’s in his element,” Kili remarked as he watched Bilbo head toward Bard’s family. A few moments later, Fili worked his way up to Bilbo’s side, maneuvering amongst the tables of seated dwarrow easily on his crutches.

“He’ll make a wonderful consort,” Tauriel said. “Don’t you think?”

Kili nodded. “He knows how to charm anyone, even my grumpy, uncharmable uncle.” He watched as Bilbo said something to Sigrid and Fili… Wait.

“Did you see that?” Kili asked, excitement starting to rise. “Did I really just see that?”

“See what?” Tauriel asked, looking over at Fili and Bilbo as well. As they watched, Fili seemed to shake himself free of something and retort to Bilbo and Sigrid.

“That look!” Kili said, starting to bounce on his toes a little. “I don’t believe it!”

“Believe what?” Tauriel asked. “I have a feeling I’ve missed something distinctly dwarfish.”

“Did you see Fili’s expression?” Kili asked, turning to her.

“Yes?” she hedged. “He seemed surprised by something.”

“When’s the last time you saw that look on a dwarf’s face?”

“I don’t see many dwarrow,” she reminded him.

“You’ve seen it though. Think.”

She paused and she looked up to watch Fili say something to Bilbo and hasten away on his crutches. “Perhaps when the spiders were attacking. If I recall, you had a similar expression on your face.”

“Yes!” Kili cried and pumped a fist into the air. “It’s too perfect!”

“What is Kili?” Tauriel asked, starting to sound impatient.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room. He didn’t stop moving until they reached somewhere without passersby. “ Sigrid ,” Kili finally said. “She’s Fili’s One.”

“What makes you think that?” Tauriel asked.

“The only time I ever see that kind of expression on anyone is when they find their One. Nothing surprises Fili. Nothing . For just looking at someone to catch Fili that off guard, it can only be because Sigrid’s his One!”

Tauriel straightened and looked back the way they’d come. Kili could see the facts falling into place and building the picture he’d already seen. “It could be,” she finally said.

“It has to be,” Kili said. “We’ve got to help them along. Fili’s hopeless with this sort of thing.”

“Are you sure we should?” Tauriel asked as she followed him back to the eating hall. “I’d hate to push them away by trying to push them together. Besides, I think Sigrid isn’t of age according to human standards.”

Kili stopped in his tracks. “She’s not? How old is she?”

“Sixteen or so, I believe,” Tauriel said. “I’m not entirely sure though. Human ages are so foreign to me.” She looked down at him. “Frankly, so are dwarrow and hobbits. How old are you?”

“Seventy-seven,” he told her. “Have I not told you that before?”

“No,” she said and linked her arm with his as they walked back to the halls. “Does it really matter though, now that I think about it?”

Kili shook his head. “No. It doesn’t. What does, is getting Fili and Sigrid together once Sigrid is old enough in a few years. In the meantime, we need to find Nori.”

“Nori? Whatever for?”

“If I know him, he’ll want to start a betting pool on the matter. We have first-hand knowledge. That’s valuable to him.”

~*~*~

Kili paced through the halls, staying in the areas declared safe by Bofur and the other engineers. He took the long way to the gates where he knew Tauriel stood, enjoying some of the last of the sunshine filtering through the overcast skies for the day. She stood on one end, scanning the ground stretching into the distance for any sign of trouble. As he approached, he heard her humming. He stopped next to her and listened, leaning on the wall as he looked down at the snowy landscape. All that pristine snow and no one had gone romping in it yet. Perhaps he could get Dale’s children together and take them out to play in it, if enough warm clothing could be found. A little fun would help their spirits.

“What has you so quiet?” Tauriel asked once she’d finished her song. She didn’t shift her stance.

“Thinking of taking any children in the mountain outside the gates to play in the snow. What do you think?”

Tauriel smiled and leaned over. She brushed a kiss onto the top of his head. “It’s a wonderful idea. Cheering up the children will cheer their parents in turn, I should think.”

“Let’s go round them all up and also see if Fili is feeling up to coming outside. He likes snow,” Kili said and pushed away from the wall. She followed beside him, her hand brushing along his arm briefly as they headed toward the repaired stairs. “What was that song you were humming?” he asked as they went.

“Nothing really,” she said. “Just something I grew up hearing in the winter months. A reminder that the sun and stars won’t always hide behind the clouds.”

Kili nodded absently, an idea starting to come free of the stone around it in his mind. He’d need to talk to Bilbo.

They searched for Fili and finally found him near the council room. He had his nose buried in a sheaf of papers.

“Fili!” Kili greeted. Fili lifted a finger, asking for his brother to wait while he finished whatever paragraph he was scanning. After a few more seconds, he looked up at Kili and Tauriel.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m going to the next meeting.”

Kili’s shoulders drooped. “Right,” he said. “Learning to be all crown princey and all that.”

Fili smiled a bit sheepishly. “Now that we’ve regained the mountain, I should probably learn how to run a kingdom a little more. I’m sorry. Did you want to do something? I can see if this meeting isn’t that important and step away for a bit.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Kili said. “It’s not important. Go. Learn to fill Uncle’s boots.”

Grimacing, Fili shook his head. “You know I’ll never be able to do that.”

“Of course you will,” Kili protested. “And you have tons of time to learn how. Go. I’ll see you later.”

Fili nodded and patted Kili on the shoulder. He cast a quick smile at Tauriel before limping heavily into the conference room, his eyes already going back to the stack of papers in his hands.

Kili shook off the odd feeling of loneliness. Fili had never not had time to spend with him before. Oh well. It was just this once, right? And he had Tauriel after all. He grinned up at her and reached a hand out to her. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go take a bunch of little humans outside for some cold, wet fun.”

Tauriel returned his grin with a smile and they rushed off to find as many children as possible to take outside.

They found the Bardlings first. After explaining his idea, Bain and Tilda exclaimed their enthusiastic approval. Sigrid shook her head at her siblings’ antics but agreed to play in the snow as well. Soon, they’d rounded up every human under the age of sixteen and quite a few that were older as well. Bofur heard about their scheme and demanded he be included. Bifur tagged along with him. By the time they’d made it out of the gates, a few other off-duty dwarrow had joined in the group. Even Nori had somehow appeared in their midst.

They made snowmen and other sculptures, dug out snowdrifts to make little caves, and flopped over in the snow, enjoying it all to the utmost. When the smallest children decided they’d had enough and went back inside, those that remained started organizing themselves into two teams for a snowball fight.

“You can’t be on your One’s team, Lad,” Bofur said, pulling Kili away from Tauriel.

“You can’t expect me to hit her, can you?” Kili demanded. “She’s my One.”

“Better figure it out quickly,” Nori said as he brushed fresh snow out of his three peaks of hair. “She’s not going to have the same misgivings.”

“Of course she-” Snow burst against his shoulder, sending chunks of it spraying all over his side and up into his hair and on his cheek. He whipped his head to the side to see Tauriel standing a short way off with Sigrid and Bain at her sides.

“Are we going to have a snowball fight or are we going to stand around gabbing like a bunch of gossiping old biddies?” Tauriel demanded and leveled a confident smirk at Kili.

His jaw dropped momentarily and snow dripped off his cheek onto his coat. Tauriel flung her second snowball and he barely had the time to lift his arm to guard his face. He grinned widely and scooped up his own snow. “Damn, I’m a lucky dwarf,” he said and threw his own snowball.

It was later agreed that the three-hour battle that ensued was the most intense warfare anyone had experienced where blood wasn’t shed. Before long, the teams dissolved into a free-for-all, dwarf against dwarf, human against human, elf against everyone. No one landed a single hit on Tauriel except for Nori who managed to sneak up behind her and whack her solidly between the shoulder blades while she held Bain in a headlock and shoved a handful of snow down the back of his coat as he shrieked in laughter and protest.

He paid for his treachery dearly when Tauriel released Bain.

Kili laughed until tears ran down his freezing cheeks as they all trooped back inside for some warm dinner. Nori strutted in front of him, wearing his entirely decimated hairstyle and mussed beard like a badge of honor.

“Playing in the snow was a wonderful idea,” Tauriel told Kili as they took their places at a table, warm bowls of a hearty chicken and dumpling soup in hand.

Looking around at all the ruddy cheeks, large grins, and laughing people in the room, he had to agree.

~*~*~

Tea was weird.

Kili really didn’t understand the appeal. Never had. Probably never would, but having afternoon tea (whatever that was) with Bilbo did give him the opportunity to ask for help.

“You can’t tell Uncle Thorin what I’m about to ask.” Kili hedged after asking Bilbo for a favor and getting an uncertain response. “He’ll be unhappy with me if you do.” That was an understatement.

Bilbo gave him a look of interest. “Well now,” he said, “you can’t start a conversation that way and expect me not to wonder at what I’m agreeing to. What is it?”

Kili set his teacup down and rubbed his hands together, trying to gather his courage. He’d never heard of any dwarf asking for this. Could he be thrown out of Erebor for wanting it? He was already considered strange with his stubbly, barely-there beard (but it was there, by Mahal!), his lean and tall stature, and his affinity for the bow (but everyone needed to stop picking at that. Even Uncle used a bow for hunting). This, this was just about as undwarflike as he could get. Still, he wanted to do something nice. “Would you teach me to speak Sindarin?” Kili finally asked and held still, waiting for Dwalin to come into the room and haul him out to throw him out of the mountain. It never happened.

“I see.” Bilbo’s smile was a little too knowing for Kili’s taste and he tried not to scowl in response. “I assume you want to be able to talk to Tauriel in her native tongue. Why not ask her to teach you?”

Kili had thought of that. He really wanted to learn from her. It would mean more time with her. But this wasn’t the time for that. “I’d like to surprise her. Will you help me?” His hand went to his pocket where a cluster of plain beads sat, waiting to be gifted to his One.

Bilbo patted the hand Kili had left on the table next to his teacup. “Of course I will.” Kili released a breath he’d been holding. “Get a slate and chalk from the desk and we’ll get started. You can help me with my khuzdul at the same time.”

A bitter taste filled Kili’s mouth as he stood to do as Bilbo asked. Bilbo was learning khuzdul. No doubt Uncle had allowed it. No non-dwarf had been allowed to learn it in an Age as far as Kili knew. And here was Bilbo, learning it. He tried to push the resentment down. Bilbo really did need to learn it. He was Thorin’s Consort after all. He’d need to be able to understand all the official ceremonies and read any official documents to understand words spoken in a way that outsiders wouldn’t be able to.

But still.

He had no doubt Tauriel would never be granted permission to learn khuzdul.

He paused briefly at the desk, hand hovering over a piece of chalk as a thought occurred to him. Would she even want to learn?

It didn’t matter. What did, was that a hobbit was allowed to learn their secret language and an elf was not, no matter that they were both part of the royal family. Or would be, once Kili and Tauriel were finally allowed to marry.

Speaking of which, he needed to help Fili find his One and fast, or he and Tauriel would have the world’s longest courtship.

He picked up the chalk and slate and went to sit back down with Bilbo, ready for his first lesson.

He soon surmised that Sindarin wasn’t going to be nearly as easy to learn as he thought it would be. He hunkered down, ready to learn as much as he could, as fast as he could. Tauriel deserved his efforts, he reminded himself as Bilbo explained conjugation. He would do anything for her.

It also helped him keep his mind off Fili and the very small amount he’d seen his brother lately. Even with council meetings currently suspended, Fili was still busy, working harder than ever on his recovery with Oin and helping with keeping the peace amongst the dwarrow and Laketown’s refugees.

Fili’s work was important. But it still left Kili feeling a bit left out when he took the time to reflect on how much time he’d spent with Fili.

Things would settle down though, he told himself as he copied Bilbo, trying to properly shape the words in his mouth. Once the caravans from Ered Luid arrived, there would be more help and Fili would have more time for him.

[hecate-herself]

To mark 100 Invisible Library one shots on AO3 I am setting myself a challenge.

The first 5 people who anonymously send me a prompt from the list below the cut (every single prompt that I have come up with, including new ones that I haven't posted yet) and a shipping/ scenario, will get 5,000 words written for that prompt.

If it isn’t anonymous, I won’t do it, if you can’t decide on a shipping that’s less important, but I will only do anonymous responses for this specific thing

1.      “[mama/papa]’s got you.”

2.      “…How on earth did you manage to get up there?”

3.      “After everything that you put me through, you come here and ask for help? How dare you?”

4.      “Alright, which one of you idiots left your shoes out for me to trip over again?”

5.      “Am I just a game to you?”

6.      “Are you asleep?”

“Not anymore.”

7.      “Are you bleeding?”

“We don’t have time to deal with it. I’ll be fine.”

8.      “Are you day drinking?”

“It’s apple juice, not whiskey.”

9.      “Are you sure that you have enough blankets?”

10.   “Are you wearing a new lipbalm? It tastes really good.”

11.   “Bite me.”

12.   “Can I adopt the stray cat out in the street?”

“Do you want fleas? Because that is how you get fleas.”

13.   “Can I have a story?”

“I just ready you a story.”

“’nother story?”

14.   “Can I kiss you?”

15.   “Can you check for monsters under the bed?”

16.   “Can you please tidy your toys away? Preferably before I break my neck tripping over a stuffed turtle.”

17.   “Come any closer and I will hit you with this book. I swear to God!”

18.   “Come to bed with me?”

19.   “Come to bed. I sleep better with you there.”

20.   “Did you ever love me, or was it just an act?”

21.   “Did you get shot?”

22.   “Did you have a bad dream?”

“Uh huh.”

“Come on, get into bed with us, you can sleep in bed with us tonight.”

23.   “Did you just get dragged through a bush, or are you always this messy?”

“I couldn’t find a comb.”

24.   “Did you just stab me?”

25.   “Did you make me breakfast in bed? I think that I love you.”

26.   “Did you sleep last night? At all?”

“God no, what do you take me for?”

27.   “Do we have any cookies in? No? I’m making cookies.”

28.   “Do you even still love me?”

29.   “Do you have a reason to get out of bed today? Let’s just stay here as long as we can.”

30.   “Do you pinky promise?”

“What are you? Five?”

31.   “Do you want a bed time story?”

32.   “Does it hurt here?”

“Everywhere hurts.”

33.   “Don’t go. Please. I can’t lose you.”

34.   “Don’t move, they hit your head really hard.”

35.   “Don’t pass out on me now, we’re nearly home.”

36.   “Don’t touch me!”

37.   “Don’t you dare die on me, you promised me!”

38.   “Don’t you look absolutely stunning?”

“You’re biased.”

“I am your partner, I am allowed to be.”

39.   “First day of school, are we excited?”

“No.”

40.   “Fuck off and fall off a cliff.”

41.   “Fuck.”

“Fuck!”

“No. Don’t repeat that. It’s a naughty word.”

“Fuck.”

42.   “Get off my foot!”

“Get your foot out from underneath my foot.”

43.   “Get out!”

“Please let me explain.”

“Out!”

44.   “Get out. I am done with you.”

45.   “Go ahead, leave, I am not going to stop you.”

46.   “Happy birthday!”

47.   “Have a good day.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

48.   “Have you stolen my shirt?”

49.   “Hey, are you alright?”

“Do I look alright to you?”

50.   “Hey, you passed out, stay laying down for a bit longer.”

51.   “Hold me, please?”

52.   “Hold still, I think it’s broken, I can set it, but this will really hurt.”

53.   “How did I get here?”

“I had to carry you. You hit your head really hard.”

54.   “How did you get pen that high up the wall?”

55.   “How do you feel about spiders?”

“Where is it?”

56.   “How is the hangover?”

“You can great straight to hell, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred pounds.”

57.   “How many coffees is that?”

“You try having a toddler who refuses to go to bed.”

58.   “Hush little baby don’t say a word, mummy has a headache and your crying hurts.”

59.   “I am madly in love with you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have a clue.”

60.   “I can’t breathe.”

61.   “I can’t sleep.”

62.   “I can’t stand the sight of you right now. Get away from me.”

“I just wanted to help.”

63.   “I don’t mean to alarm you, but the spider in the shower is frankly massive.”

64.   “I don’t want to talk about it, just leave me alone.”

65.   “I don’t… I don’t feel good.”

66.   “I dreamed about you last night. I woke up happy.

67.   “I feel like no one could ever love me.”

68.   “I feel safe in your arms.”

69.   “I hate you so much.”

“I know. I deserve it.”

70.   “I haven’t slept in days. The nightmares won’t stop.”

71.   “I just put them down for a nap. We probably have an hour of peace.”

72.   “I love mummy.”

“What about me?”

“Just mummy.”

73.   “I love you, but please, shut up.”

74.   “I love you.”

“But I don’t love you.”

75.   “I may have… mildly panicked?”

“You shot at me!”

76.   “I need a hug. Please?”

77.   “I never want you to feel like you are alone.”

78.   “I said that I never wanted to see you again. Why are you here?”

79.   “I think I can feel them kicking!”

80.   “I think you need to see a doctor.”

81.   “I think you’re bleeding…”

82.   “I trusted you.”

83.   “I want another baby.”

84.   “I was thinking, you, me, the bottle of wine in the kitchen and sitting in front of the fire. Thoughts?”

“Yes please.”

85.   “I will make dinner if you don’t speak for the rest of the afternoon.”

86.   “I wish that I never had met you.”

87.   “I’d have stayed, if you had asked me to.”

88.   “I’m calling the doctor.”

“I’m fine.”

“You really aren’t.”

89.   “I’m not hurt.”

“You are actively bleeding.”

“Oh. So I am.”

90.   “I’m sorry, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice!”

91.   “I’ve got you, you are going to be okay.”

92.   “If the kid can nap, am I allowed to as well?”

93.   “Is it wrong for me to wish that they never grow up and I can keep my baby forever?”

“I kind of want that too.”

94.   “Is this heaven?”

“Well, judging by your presence here, hell.”

“Oh. So I am dead?”

95.   “Isn’t it your bedtime?”

“Hypocrite.”

“Come to bed with me then.”

96.   “Isn’t this illegal?”

“Yes, but technically no.”

97.   “it could be worse.”

“You aren’t the one bleeding.”

“Look, you are still alive. Stop whining.”

98.   “It could be worse?”

“They got jam everywhere!”

99.   “It hurts.”

“I know, it is going to be okay, I promise.”

“It burns, please… Make it stop.”

100.         “It would be better if you just forgot me.”

101.         “It’s just a bad dream. I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

102.         “It’s just a bit of blood. I’m fine.”

103.         “It’s just a nightmare. I’ve got you.”

104.         “It’s so cold.”

“You need to hold on a bit longer, you are going to be fine. Just stay awake a little longer.”

105.         “It’s your bedtime.”

106.         “Kiss me, please?”

“Nah.”

“Fine, I will kiss someone else.”

“No, don’t do that!”

107.         “Kiss me. Now.”

108.         “Kiss me.”

109.         “Leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.”

110.         “Look up. Mistletoe.”

111.         “Lunch?”

“It’s half seven. In the evening.”

“Dinner then?”

112.         “May I have this dance?”

113.         “Nothing could go wrong, you said. Well guess what? Everything has gone wrong!”

114.         “Oh god I think I am going to throw up.”

115.         “Oh, you can go to hell.”

“Stop threatening me with a good time.”

116.         “Okay, start from the beginning, you lost me right after you said that you punched someone.”

“That was the first thing that I said.”

117.         “One drink, two drink, three drink, floor!”

118.         “One little shoe. Two little shoes. Already to go out.”

119.         “Open wide. Come on, eat your dinner!”

“It probably tastes awful.”

“It doesn’t- okay. No, it is pretty bad.”

120.         “Pass me that would you- no, no the other one. On your left. No… your other left.”

121.         “Penny for your thoughts?”

“If my thoughts are only worth a penny, I shall keep it to myself.”

122.         “Please breath, please… oh god.”

123.         “Please don’t say that, I don’t think I can take it.”

124.         “Please don’t vomit on me. Please don’t vomit on me. Please don’t… You vomited on me.”

125.         “Please tell me that isn’t all your blood.”

126.         “Please… I am begging you, just open your eyes. Please. You can’t die.”

127.         “Put the cookie down, eat your dinner first.”

128.         “Quick, I think the baby is coming!”

129.         “Roses are red, violets are blue- ow. Fuck you!”

130.         “Say goodbye to mama and papa, they’ll be back soon.”

131.         “Shh, it’s okay, you don’t need to cry.”

132.         “So… the baby is fine, I want you to know that first, they are absolutely fine.”

“What did you do?”

133.         “Stay in bed a little longer. It is warm here.”

“Alright, five more minutes, then I have to get up.”

134.         “Stomach bug?”

“No, morning sickness.”

135.         “Stop lying to me!”

136.         “Stop pretending to care.”

137.         “Stop smiling at me like that, I am trying to concentrate.”

138.         “Stop wiggling! I need to get you changed!”

139.         “Take a break. I’ll stay up with them, you need some sleep.”

140.         “Take a deep breath.”

141.         “It hurts.”

“I know, but you have to breath.”

142.         “Thank you for looking after me.”

“For you I would do anything.”

143.         “That best not be the last of the milk… Oh you bastard.”

144.         “That hit hard, are you okay?”

145.         “That is going to leave a really nasty scar.”

146.         “That looks broken. You need a doctor.”

147.         “The amount of alcohol I am going to need to forget this is going to kill me.”

148.         “They have grown so much, it’s hard to believe how little they used to be.”

149.         “They won’t stop crying and, in a minute, I think I am going to start crying first.”

150.         “Tuck me into bed?”

“You are an adult.”

“So?”

151.         “Wake up, I think someone else is here.”

152.         “Walk it off.”

“I don’t know if I can walk.”

153.         “What are you reading?”

154.         “What do you mean you aren’t interested in me, it’s me!”

155.         “What if I don’t get better? What if I am broken?”

156.         “What would you do if I said that I may have burnt the dinner?”

157.         “When mummy and daddy love each other very much…”

158.         “Where am I?”

159.         “Where did you get that scar from?

160.         “Where did you put your blankie this time.”

161.         “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Well-“

“That was rhetorical.”

162.         “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I am just… speechless. You look beautiful.”

163.         “Why are you on the floor? Did you fall?”

“Would you believe me if I said not?”

164.         “Why did you lie to me?”

165.         “Wouldn’t you rather be with [him/her/them]?”

166.         “Yes, you look great in my shirt. But I kind of need it back.”

167.         “You and me, together. We’re unbeatable. We can go against all odds and come out on top.”

168.         “You are perfect, my little [pet name].”

169.         “You are the worst mistake I have ever made.”

170.         “You broke my heart.”

171.         “You didn’t see anything.”

“Yes I did. I saw all of it.”

172.         “You drank my coffee? Why must you heart me in this way?”

173.         “You hurt me!”

174.         “You loved me!”

“Loved. Past tense.”

175.         “You made me breakfast in bed? What did you do this time?”

176.         “You really are your [mother/father]’s child.”

177.         “You ripped my heart to pieces. Did it even hurt when you left?”

178.         “You’ll come crawling back to me.”

“Never.”

179.         “You’re burning up.”

180.         “You’re going to be okay, just breath. Oh god… is that bone?”

181.         “Your brat keeps kicking me in the kidney.”

“How come you say they’re mine whenever they are doing that?”

182.         “Your nose is bleeding.”

[itsediadmlove]

8X04

People I am about to confess you a secret; I LOVED THE EPISODE. And speaking the truth I’ve had enough on people posting bullshit, no one felt good about the Red Wedding, and yet it was amazing, one of the best plot twist I’d ever watched. If you just want everything to be perfect and epic go rewatch the lord of the rings; this show isn’t for you. 

-never knowing how it’s gonna end

-suffering along your faves

-spending hundreds of hours thinking ‘bout the outcome

-then trying again

This is GOT. You thought you were going to be gifted with... That’s bullshit, you will suffer and struggle to the very end. You will be surprised (mostly in terrible ways), you will doubt, you will feel like nothing makes sense... The Night King is dead and what does that mean? We are back to good old shitty life, we are back home. I’m tagging this post as Jonsa because it’s my north, the corner of the fandom I belong to, and I am not breaking faith today, I am telling you, I don’t know how long will this post will be, but I am doing it even if I consider it to be a pain in the ass, and if anyone feels like having a deeper conversation, or need reassurance or anything, well, I’m her for them, and I will continue to do so as well as I can.

Personally I consider this episode to be everything Kit promised: a huge bunch of questions, the wheel is moving again and we are clueless. But I don’t get what people is crying all over, yes, the long night is over and yet everyone in the fandom found themselves in their darkest hour, it was tragic, it was full of angst, fuck, it was sad and yet nothing is over.

- Sansa (of course): well today (I live in Europe and I don’t wait ‘till 4AM to watch episodes) I got more confirmation (after 2 almost empty episodes) of Sansa being in love with Jon. She finally got to know who he really is. It sure was disappointing not to see Sansa’s reaction on screen (I yelled at my computer like for half an hour, but it’s not as if it wasn’t important for her, it was just hidden from us) yet we got to see her concern for Jon and even him being a Targ she still wants him to stay by her side. She couldn’t stand to watch him and Dany look happy (for the 10 seconds it lasted) And Tyrion felt something was wrong with her. I believe her telling Tyrion was the beginning of what Sophie said about turning on her family, and she was clearly pissed ‘bout the idea of Jon not coming back North. And yet she did amazing by telling Tyrion, just by that she is jeopardizing Danie’s court: that’s my girl.

- Daenerys Targaryen, the breaker of chains, khaleesi of... And all her shit: Amazing episode. She was smart (not just for the Gendry stuff) and completely right in her convo with Jon; as long as westeros recognize him as the true born son of Rhaegar her claim doesn’t exist. And don’t get it wrong it’s not like he has a super strong claim (she was right about Jon’s only witness to be Sam and Bran, your little brother and best friend saying you are the true heir sounds fishy), just look at Stannis, he was right all along as he claimed to be Robert’s heir and no one gave a shit because they never wanted HIM as a king. As Dany is not the stupid brat a lot of Jonsas seem to believe she knows that every single time westerosi lords want to disobbey they’ll have an excuse by accepting Jon’s claim as true, his identity will constantly jeopardize her authority just because he exist, it doesn’t matter what he wants ( Dany and Varys are right here) Just as Dany, Varys and Tyrion know it will happen with Sansa (something Daenerys was right as well). DARK!DANY is on the motion already. Varys knows it, Sansa knows it, Bran knows it, Arya knows it and both Jon and Tyrion were realizing it this episode ( I will come to that later). It was even fun to watch her say to Jon how she his subjects will force him to use his claim to take what is hers (if he has the claim, doesn’t it mean it was never hers to begin with?). It’s the first time that she feels all; powerfull, angry and scared at the same time. Emilia deliverance all the episode felt amazing.

-Varys and Tyrion: we still have to see Varys die... but mates i felt heartbroken for him today. I’ve loved him since season one (something that didn’t happen with Sansa for example) he is a schemer and yet he is so moral. He has been making the right points all over the show and has been our warning about Dany for 2 seasons already. Yet this is the first time I’ve seen him emotional. I am of the opinion that Tyrion is in love with Dany, he is smarter than Jorah and he knows he doesn’t have a chance and doesn’t even pretend but he is loyal to her, truly loyal, this kind of loyalty that is born on someone who feels fully validated and trusted by someone when no one else would... Except for Varys. The Eunuch has been his truest friend, the one who was willing to see him for what he was despite of everything apart of Dany, but he loves her and we all know the crazy shits Lannisters do for love. By the end of the episode Varys implied she has to die. I loved it because it teared this weird and constant duo apart, and Varys went emotional for that. I strongly believe he will sell him to Dany (who, by the way, had Varys warned already) and if this happen fellows shit is going to hit the fan: first of all their conversation paralleled the conversation Tyrion had wwith Bronn about murdering Joffrey (at least in the books, I don’t remember the show properly) the sentence we are speaking treason sticked to me while watching. The poetic part of it is that, at least in the book, such conversation was brought by Varys during Tyrion trials to proove him guilty, Him playing the same move on Varys seems so good to just let it through (maybe he won’t expect him to be executed or it won’t happen at all). In any case, if it happens, Dany will  learn why he was plotting (that is Jon), and them both knowing the truth would confirm Dany’s fear about his claim.

-And finally Jon: Plenty of people have been posting complaints about Jon’s behaviour, pol!jon being debunked because of his behaviour... I laugh at it. First of all, those who believe that Jon would just use Dany and just tell her fuck off are as delusional as Jonerize shitters said. Pol!jon was not about betraying Dany but about taking her north, and he did. It’s not on Jon’s nature to betray people. He is meant to do such a thing because of circumstances not because he wants to turn on people (he is not a Frey for god’s sake), the treason for love was never intended, events would put him in such spot. I still believe he is not in love with Dany yet he was trying his best; he ows her a great deal, she loves him a lot and she is pretty (may not be much of a reason yet is far from bad), he may think he could build his love stone by stone. And still he had to close his eyes to kiss her and stopped as soon as he looked at her (rewatch folk, rewatch)... While speaking with his family he made them swear not to tell the secret to anybody, and you know what, for me he looked scared as hell. Why? Because he was telling them something that would put them in danger (’’we can all live together’’, ‘’we can... I just told you how’’ now this was a fucking threat, and Emilia’s voice just let through it was not a fuckingocasional statement this time). Now about political Jon in particular yesterday’s episode has the boldest move he has ever plaid on her, I will give you a clue; it was during the war council when they were speaking about how they would go south, it was subtle, without a single word (we were distracted by Dany and Sansa being at each other throat), and yet he failed to get his way, Grey Worm corrected him... Now can someone who is not to focus on how much Sansa and Dany hate each other tell me what move he was trying to pull on Dany? (Rewatch folks, just rewatch) 

[beforedawnmuses]

We NEED to see some Garcy Titanic moments tbh

I’m not entirely happy with this, but wanted to get it posted. It’s also a little longer than I expected, but hope you enjoy! 

It was a trap. 

Looking back, Lucy thinks that it was so glaringly obviously a trap, because what could they really change about the Titanic. The boat sinks, some people escape, and some don’t - as much as she would like to change the outcome, it just didn’t seem possible.

Yet Rittenhouse had gone to Southampton, 10th April 1912 and even Wyatt had known it would be to do with the Titanic, the ship of dreams that turned out to be anything but. 

They had split up, her with Flynn and Wyatt with Rufus, in an attempt to find Emma and find out what the hell was going on here. Herself and Flynn had found Emma, but Lucy can’t say she remembers much of the encounter, only a crunch as the pipe had hit the back of her head and everything had faded to black. 

She wakes sometime later and tries to sit up, but her head feels like someone’s running around like a jackhammer when she attempts the slightest bit of movement and she slumps herself back down on the pillows. Something warm rests heavily across her stomach, a quick glance to her side reveals Flynn sleeping next to her, arm curled around her waist as he sleeps on his stomach. She almost gets distracted as she studies his sleeping face, though she had now slept in his room a handful of times she had yet to see him sleep because he was always last to fall sleep and first up. She now takes a small opportunity to look at him, his face was softer, the lines less harsh as his burdens fall away. She notes that when he sleeps his mouth is ever so slightly upturned at the corners, almost as if he’s smiling.

Lucy shakes herself from her musings, knowing that working out where the hell she is should really be the most important thing right now. It's a large room, well decorated with the crystal lights and the expensive bedsheets – yet this still did not give away her location and she didn’t want to move quite yet with a splitting headache. She glances around the room once more, desperate to find some sort of clue and she sees it, so obvious that she wonders how she missed it the first time.

There, on one of the beautifully decorated walls, sat a porthole and its suddenly oh so clear where they are that Lucy wonders how it did not occur to her before.

They were aboard the Titanic.

Panic surges through her and brings her to life, headache quickly ignored as she sits up and begins to shake Flynn to life. He stirs with a groan and the arm around her waist tightens, any other time she would have took comfort, pleasure maybe, at his touch, but not now. Not when there’s a million things running through her head at once.

“Lucy,” his voice is hoarse and she doesn’t miss the way his brows crease in a frown when he blinks himself awake. Like she had done moments before, he goes to push himself upright before grimacing at the pain in his head, “where are we?”

She has to swallow before she can answer, panic curling around her throat like a noose because she had no idea how they’re going to get out of this one alive. “The Titanic,” she tries to keep her voice as even as possible as she says it, but it breaks anyways, and she feels herself quiver at the thought of it.

His only answer is silence, flipping himself over and staring at the celling. She wonders if they were thinking the same thing, that they had been in some binds before, but they really hadn’t been in anything this scale on something that there was no way to stop.

“I bet Rufus and Wyatt aren’t here,” he said evenly, eyes still fixated on the celling. “Emma has probably left 1912 by now, probably didn’t even have any business here. It’s rather genius, put us on the boat that’s doomed and have the other two chase their tails trying to find us while she probably goes somewhere else while we can’t chase her. And if it takes two players out the game, all the more benefit to her.”

Lucy blinks as he so easily unfolds Emma’s plan and she briefly wonders if something similar ever crossed his mind when they were on opposite sides of the war. Yet she quickly shuts down that train of thought, Flynn’s goal had never been to kill them, only to get them out of his way and well, he wasn’t entirely wrong in doing so.

“Even if we did get them to change their course and get them away from the iceberg, there’s still other problems with the ship. It’s structure isn’t sound, any stormy seas could take the ship apart –“

“So, you’re saying that we might be doomed anyways.”

 “Yes.” A sigh leaves his lips at her response and he swings himself out of the bed, striding over to the whiskey decanter and pouring two glasses. He hands her one, perching himself on her side of the bed, one hand coming to rest at the other side of her legs, “at least the room is nice.”

They try to change course anyway, but their efforts make no difference. They are outright laughed at by the Captain and crew and are brushed off by passengers. She can see Flynn’s frustration as the day wared on, his jaw is clenched, and his face has taken on a hard, unreadable expression. Once it would have scared her, not being able to know what he is thinking, but now she knows that he is the calm in the storm, a rock she can cling to as they face the current.

The whole day is spent trying and failing to convince people of the ship’s doomed fate and they eventually find themselves in one of the ballrooms, their third glass of whiskey in hand. Lucy wouldn’t normally allow her guard down so much on a mission, but they were yet to find a solution to their problem and she highly doubted there was a way they could stop this. With a pang, she wishes Rufus were with them because he would be able to explain the problems with the ship better than she could and they’d maybe stand a chance, but instead she was confusing the crew more than helping them understand the problem.

She glances up to find Flynn staring at her, an intense look in his eyes as she wonders if he has perhaps snuck more drinks throughout the day – not that she could blame him for that – but its just so unlike him to be so unguarded. Ballroom music swells through the room in an almost melancholy tune and he stands up so suddenly that he jostles the table when he does so.

“Dance with me,” she blinks for a moment at his words, so surprised that they have left his lips at all. She doesn’t know if it’s the whiskey or the way he’s looking at her like she’s the most beautiful piece of art he’s ever seen, but Lucy nods her head yes and before she knows it she’s being hauled to her feet and dragged across the room to the dance floor.

The fact that he’s a good dancer shouldn’t surprise her, but it does. There’s a grace to him as he sweeps her up in his arms and twirls them around in time to the music. She had never been much of a dancer herself, but the ease in which Flynn leads her around the dancefloor makes it easy for her steps to fall in time with his.

“So,” he begins, leaning down so that his breath tickles her ear as he speaks. All of a sudden, she’s aware of his hand on her back, burning a hole through her skin and she wishes she were bolder, to close the gap that’s been between them for so long and make good use of that room given to them by Rittenhouse until the demise of the ship. At least she’d go out with a bang. “You want to go to the deck and have our own rendition of My Heart Will Go on.”

The laugh she gives is perhaps louder than the joke merits, but this could very well be their last days alive and so if Garcia Flynn wants to think he is funny, she’ll let him. “Only if in this scenario I’m Jack and you are Rose, I think I’d like to do a bit of saving for once.”

He lets out his own soft chuckle in response and his grip on her waist momentarily tightens. “Lucy,” he says her name in that hoarse way that he does, as if he’s not sure if it’s a curse or a prayer he’s releasing from his lips. “They’ll take the woman and children first, I want you to go with them. Find Rufus and Wyatt and take back the lifeboat.”

It’s now Lucy’s turn for her grip to tighten, she couldn’t believe he would even suggest such a thing. To leave him here, to drown and she was to simply just return and act as if this was a perfectly fine answer to their problem.

“No,” she croaks, her hand curling into the lapel of his suit.

“Lucy I –“

“No.” She repeats, voice resolute as she takes a step to close the gap between them. “The team needs you – I need you. The only way I’m getting off this ship is if we go together. I don’t want to hear any more ideas until you have one that gets us both off. Okay?”

He nods mutely in response and she lets out a breath of relief – at least he wasn’t going to try any heroics and leave her to return on her own. She wouldn’t allow it. She leans her head on his chest and she feels him rest his chin on her head, for now, it would have to be enough.

They pass their days in much of the same way, each days effort to change the fate of the ship as futile as the last. It had been three days already, meaning that they only had one left before they hit an iceberg, it was safe to say that things did not look promising.

At night, they cling to each other despite the large expanse of the bed. Lucy traces patterns of his chest as she wills herself to sleep, fear gripping her like a second skin making it impossible to find some peace to rest. Yet rest she does, with his strong hands stroking her back and murmured Croatian words in her ear and for a moment she forgets, and its enough for sleep to take her over.

When they hit the iceberg, Lucy is holding Flynn’s hand. She had expected it, had been waiting its impending doom for days, but she’s still shocked when the boat rocks with its impact, when the small shudders of it travel up her legs. Through it all, Flynn never lets go of her hand, fingers interlocking with hers as he drags her through the madness, through the hordes of panicking people and the crew who are trying to do something to solve this situation. His hand is her anchor, her safety in the chaos, her calm in the storm.

When she sees it, she curses her stupidity and wonders how details of it slipped her mind. She had been so focused on the impending doom of her ship Lucy had totally forgotten about the things that they can do to lessen the damage. It hits her as she sees the lifeboats neatly lined up and her heart races as she realises that she can do something, she can change the fate of these people.

“Flynn,” she has to shout over the chaos, even though he can’t be more than a foot in front of her. “The first lifeboat, it’ll only take 28 people, but it can fit more – 64, I think. And there’s enough life jackets to go around, I don’t know how much good lifejackets will do for them, but at least they’ll have more of a chance. They won’t just drown.”

The information sparks something in his eyes, an ember that was not there before and Lucy’s sure that he would find the same thing reflect in hers.

Hope.

He springs into action the same way that a fire roars to life, slowly, and then all at once. They were smart enough to come up to the deck as quickly as they could, but there’s still a small crowd between them and the crew members trying to control the situation. Flynn makes it look easy as he uses his large frame to barge through the crowd, her following hot on his heels until they reach the crew at the front.

She has no idea what Flynn says to the crew members, too focused on the mothers holding their children and pleading for help, focused on the fear in these people’s faces and the way the lower classes linger helplessly at the back while the people how had money shamelessly banter for safe passage off the ship at the expense of others. She does however catch his death stare and the young crew members nervous nod and lets out a breath of relief.

Flynn helps load the lifeboats, making sure that each one holds as many as it can before setting off, while Lucy hands out lifejackets. She starts with the lower classes, knowing that these people had the least chance of getting into a lifeboat, but at least she was offering them a chance.

She’s tightening a woman’s lifejacket when she feels his warm hand on her shoulder, she glances up to meet his face, serious and grim. “It’s the last one.”

Guilt rushes through Lucy as she looks back to all the people who’d be left, who’d be left in the freezing water, waiting for help. Sure, they all had life jackets now – but that didn’t ensure their survival. The crushing guilt is enough to make her want to stay, to allow one of them to go in her place, but Flynn’s hand is sure and steady as he takes her own and he drags her away with determination in his step.

He wasn’t letting her die tonight.

She is loaded onto the lifeboat by the same sure hands that brought her to it, but a moment passes as she catches his eye and she sees it, the thing she was sure she would find – he didn’t plan to get on it with her. Panic surges in her chest, she couldn’t lose him, without knowing it, Flynn had become everything that was safe and warm, and she needed him the same way her lungs needed oxygen.

Her hands are fast, gripping his hand once more as soon as he lets her go. He had already turned away, his intense gaze turning around to meet hers with only a hint of shock and he opens his mouth, to protest perhaps, but her grip is steel and her eyes are hard – there is no room for argument here. “You’re coming with me.”

Flynn still looks like he wants to argue, but he sighs and climbs into the boat beside her, their hands still intertwined as he curls up his legs beside hers.

The ocean is cold, but Flynn wraps himself around her as much as he can and her cold fingers bury into his shirt as he presses kisses to her hair and promises her that everything will be alright. They were safe now.

The hotel they find is dingy, but it’ll do for the night. The boat had reached the shore, crowds of people waiting with questions, waiting for the survivors of the ship that was supposed to be indestructible, waiting for people that may never come home.

They had easily been able to lose themselves in the chaos, to slip away from the crowds and into a hotel before they got too crowded. Neither had even thought of getting separate rooms, just wanting to be alone without the heavy burden of knowledge for once, to not feel the weight of everything resting on their shoulders. They still had to find Wyatt and Rufus, but that could wait until the morning because they needed a minute to breathe, for the weight to lift from their chests.

She sits on the end of the bed, wrapping a blanket around herself as she feels the phantom chill of the ocean lingering on her skin. Her thoughts swim with the faces of those left behind, of the people who only had a slight better chance because they had lifejackets – but that might not change fate for some of them and while they had gotten more people onto the lifeboats, it still didn’t feel like enough.

“We did all that we could,” his voice startles her, she did not feel him sit down next to her, didn’t feel the mattress sink with his weight or the brushing of his thigh against her own.

Lucy glances at him from the side of her eye, anger swelling in her chest as she studies his profile, his strong set jaw, his eyes that seemed to change colour in different lights, ranging from green to grey, of his broad shoulders and hands that held her so safely.

“You were going to leave me,” and she can feel the tears burning behind her eyes as she says it because the thought of not having him next to her right now physically aches and she’s so angry that he would even consider staying behind, leaving her to go on without him. “Why?”

What Garcia Flynn lacks in words, he makes up for with actions. His mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to find an adequate answer, before letting out a strangled noise when words fail him. Instead, he presses his lips to hers, his warm hands cradling her face and bringing it towards his so that they meet in the middle.

Its soft and gentle, exactly what she needs from him right now, because she feels like she’s so close to breaking that the slightest thing could make her shatter to pieces. But his kiss it is healing, as if his touch is smoothing over the cracks in her soul, making her whole once more.

His answer is received, known to her as his mouth meets hers, he loves her.

He looks shocked as he pulls back from the kiss, frozen in place as his hands rest limply on her shoulders. She feels the warmth escape her as his hands slowly slide from her body and realises that he fears that he has done something wrong. Before he can leave her entirely, she leans forward and captures his face, her hands finding their way into the silky strands of his hair. It’s her response, her way of telling him what she’s too afraid to leave her lips.

She loves him back.

This kiss is different from the last, it’s open mouthed and raw; a reminder that they are here, and they are alive. His hands reach for her waist tugging her over until she’s straddling his waist and she’s not entirely sure where she ends and where he begins.

The blanket falls from her shoulders, and so does her pain. 

[areyoureadyforsomemeatballz]

Short Stack

Summary: Bucky Barnes has been on the lookout for the perfect girl to set up with Steve since the two of them were old enough to date. With Steve all but giving up hope what will happen when you come tumbling into their lives?

Pairing: Pre-serum Steve x Short!Reader

Word Count: 2200

Warnings: An attempted mugging (not in graphic detail). A couple swears, as per usual.

A/N: I couldn’t get this out of my head after reading this post from @captain-ariel-barnes . This one is for her, and any other smol cuties that love little Steve. Even though I’m a giant, at 5’9, I still had a blast writing this. I hope you guys enjoy it, let me know what you think!

All your life you have been told over and over again how dangerous it is living in New York City. Hearing such things at a young age had instilled in you the belief that there would be ruffians on every street corner and goons prowling in every alley. As an adult, you had come to realize that, though there was a threat it wasn’t as present as your overprotective parents would have you believe. Or, you had just been lucky enough to avoid those lurking in the shadows.

She needed help! That much was clear to you as you saw a woman struggling with a burly man in the alley outside the dress shop that you worked in. The woman was cowering against the wall. Fear evident on her face, even from your view at the opening of the alley.

“Hey,” you call out, hoping to distract the man. “Leave her alone.”

He turns slightly and gives you a once over. “Mind your own business, short stack. Me and my lady are just having a disagreement.”

“It doesn’t look that way to me. Just let the lady go, no questions asked.”

“Beat it, kid,” He grits out, turning back to the woman. “You don’t know who you’re talkin' to.”

The woman silently begs you for your help. Logically, you knew that you had absolutely no chance of fighting this man off. He towered over you, which at your height wasn’t much of a feat. You made the snap decision to find someone who could stop him. You rush out onto the street and your eyes land on a couple a few paces down from the alley, the man is much bigger than the attacker and looks kind. If under any other circumstances you would find him very attractive.

You sprint toward the pair and grab onto the man’s arm, trying to stop him from moving any further away. “Excuse me! There is a man in that alley,” you point over your shoulder with your thumb. “He’s harassing a lady and I tried my best to stop it, but I need help. She needs help.”

“We’re not interested. Can’t you see that we’re in the middle of something? James, we’ll miss the movie,” his date says while giving you a disapproving glare.

“Show me the way,” the man- James- says earnestly. “This’ll only take a second, Betty. The movie can wait.”

You grab onto James’s hand and race back to the alley, the man rifling through the woman’s purse without a care. She had fallen to her knees, trying to make herself as small as possible.

“I’ll take it from here. You go wait by Betty,” James says as he’s already approaching the man.

“I don’t think so, Bucko. I need to make sure that she is okay.”

James rolls his eyes at you muttering something about stubborn hero types under his breath. He reaches out and grabs the man by his coat and sends him flying to the ground with a punch. The mugger is no match for James and the fight is quickly over. After he’s out cold you step over him and help the woman off of the ground and brush off her skirt.

“Are you okay, miss?”

She pulls you into a tight hug, tears streaming down her face and into your hair. You hug back tightly and whisper that she’s safe.

“He’d been harassing me at the diner that I waitress at, I had no clue that he’d follow me home,” she whispers tearfully. “I thought I was going to die.”

James clears his throat behind you, and you notice that there are two policemen with him. One slaps a pair of cuffs on the attacker and drags his limp form to the waiting car. You hadn’t even heard James leave the alley to fetch help.

“We can take it from here, ma’am,” the officer’s partner says to you.

You look at him skeptically, unwilling to leave this poor woman with strange men. James grabs onto your arm and pulls you away from the scene. “They’ll make sure she gets home safe. You’ve done everything that you can,” he whispers into your ear.

You make a noise of protest low in your throat, but you let him lead you back out of the alleyway.

“That was sure something, miss,” James says. “I’m not sure any sane woman would attempt to stop a fella that big without help.”

“I got help, you jerk. Do you think I pulled you off the street for your pretty face? The name is Y/N, not miss, by the way.”

He lets out a loud laugh. “No need for the sharp tongue, Y/N. All I mean is not many people would do what you just did.”

“James,” Betty whines as she approaches the two of you. “Can we please go now?”

“I’d like to see you again; do you think that would be possible?” James says as he looks down at you.

You shoot a pointed look at Betty. “You seem to have your hands awfully full already, James.”

A wide grin splits across his face. “Just as friends, then. There’s someone you remind me of and it’d be a crime if the two of you didn’t meet.”

You can’t help but like James and decide to give him the number of the dress shop so that he could reach out to you.

******

“I’m telling ya, Stevie, she’s like no dame that I’ve ever met!” Bucky says excitedly.

Steve gives him an unimpressed look and plucks a few fries out of the basket in between them. “I’m sure you two will be so happy together, that is until someone else catches your eye.”

“I already told you, it’s not like that you punk. Plus, what’s so wrong with sharing my time with as many girls as I can? It’s not a crime you know.”

Steve sighs and continues to eat, unable to make eye contact. “You have every girl in the city at your beck and call. I just want one who will take the time to get to know the skinny asthmatic, and maybe see something more with me.”

“That’s what I am trying to tell you! You never listen, Steve. I, your best friend in the world, am going to set up a double for us.”

“No.”

“Steve just-”

He begins to gather up their trash and stands up from the booth. “I am sick of you taking me on dates, only to have the girl disappointed when I show up.”

“She’s different, Steve. At least just meet her, it won’t be a date, I swear on my ma’s grave.”

“Your ma isn’t dead.”

“I don’t know why I put up with you, Rogers. You’re meeting her and that’s final. You two will be fast friends.”

******

“Jame- Bucky I don’t think your friend is very keen on meeting me. That, or he doesn’t exist and this is when I learn you were crazy all along.”

Bucky is sprawled across your sofa with a glass of lemonade in his hands. He made himself at home the second after stepping foot in your apartment. “Not imaginary, doll face. He’s just a little shy.”

You roll your eyes at the man as you continue to tidy up the room. “Why are you so insistent that we meet each other?”  

“Stevie’s my family and you are quickly becoming a staple in my life, despite being a pain in my ass.”

“Get your feet off the sofa, James.”

“Okay, first off there’s the pain in my ass thing. Second, I want you to call me Bucky.”

“Bucky’s a stupid name,” you grumble under your breath.

******

Bucky is finally able to convince Steve to meet you after two months of begging. He promised that it wouldn’t be a date, the three of you were going to go out for drinks and to a dance hall. He had neglected to tell Steve about the dancing, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

You were running late at the shop and told Bucky that you would meet them at the dance hall. Your manager had been nice enough to let you wear one of the samples for the evening, which you paired with short heels and your grandmother's pearl necklace. You knew everyone would tower over you, even in the heels. But, you felt amazing in the newly altered dress.

As you bustle into the hall your eyes land on Bucky, a smile working its way on to your face. When you see the man beside him your heart nearly stops. He is beautiful. Bucky elbows him in the ribs and the man turns his piercing blue gaze on you in full force. He runs a hand through his tidy blond hair, mussing it up and making himself more attractive somehow.  

Shaking your head, you force your legs to carry you toward Bucky and the angel- Steve. Bucky had said his name was Steve. As you approach the pair you clear your throat and give yourself a mini pep talk. Bucky had also said that this wasn’t a date, so the nerves were unwarranted.

“Hi, I’m-”

“Y/N,” Steve breathes your name out in awe. “Buck told me a lot about you.”

Bucky is behind Steve grinning like the cat who ate the canary, not that either you or Steve notice. “Well, it’s good to see you Y/N. But, there’s a lovely woman over by the band that’s demanding my attention.”

“Bucky, don’t-” Steve protests immediately.

Bucky cuts him off with a wink. “I’m sure you two kids will find something to talk about.” He’s gone in a flash, leaving the two of you to try and make conversation.

“So, uh- tell me about yourself, Steve.”

“There’s not much to tell, I’m pretty dull. Uh, I guess I’m an artist, but other than that I’m a run of the mill guy.”

“I don’t believe that for one second. Tell me about your art,” you say smiling at him. “I mean, only if you want to, that wasn’t a demand.”

You feel your checks heat up and your eyes drop to the bar. God, when had you become so terrible at talking to men? Was it just this man affecting you? Steve doesn’t seem to notice your embarrassment and he turns around to retrieve his messenger bag from under the bar, pulling out a sketchbook.

“I can do you one better! I can show you,” Steve says excitedly. “These are my newest works, but I have loads of sketchbooks.”

He prattles on about art for twenty minutes, with you hanging on his every word. “Anyway, painting has become one of my favorite mediums, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop sketching…” He trails off midsentence and you look up from the sketchbook.

“I’m so sorry, I’m probably boring you to death. I’ve been going on for so long. I just get excited. You’re free to go find someone else, maybe someone that can hold a normal conversation or give you a dance,” Steve says while looking away from you.

He was as nervous as you, which bolstered your confidence a bit. “Steve, no! I don’t know if you noticed but, I was very much enjoying that conversation. You are so passionate, and besides, I’d much rather sit here with you than dance with any bloke here.”

Steve’s ears perked up at this and a gentle smile lights up his already radiant face. “Not even Bucky?”

“Especially not Bucky. He’s a good friend, but not really my type.”

“What is your type, if I may ask?”

You give him a shy smile. “I think I’m still figuring that out, but you’ll be the first to know.” You reach across the bar top and take his hand in yours.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Steve blurts.

Your eyes widen and you move to pull your hand away from his. “Steve, I-”

“Goodness, not like that! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean like that! I just wanted to get out of the crowd. Maybe we can go to the diner across the street and talk more? I can walk you home after, too.”

It was easy to see that he was being genuine and you were tired of the booming crowd anyway. “I’d love to. But only if we get a milkshake and fries.” You grab on to Steve’s hand as he leads the two of you through the thick cluster of people, missing the smile on his face.

Steve makes eye contact with Bucky across the room. Bucky shoots him a thumbs up while making a kissing face. Steve rolls his eyes and passes his coat over to you, which you slip into easily. Steve tucks you into his side to protect you from the cold New York air.

As the two of you make your way across the street you lay your head on his shoulder and wonder how this amazing man hasn’t been snapped up already.

******

“I am going to have my hands full with those two,” Bucky declares to himself.

His dance partner looks up at him, confused. “What was that, James?”

“Nothing, darling. I was just thinking out loud.”