#POV Polish person: like the Russians?

[morelikeravenbore]

🦋 Thanks to the cuties who have tagged me in this, I've loved reading everyone's answers!

How many works do you have on AO3? Uhh *checks* — nine. One long fic and a bunch of oneshots.

What's your total AO3 word count? 88k~ but about 76k~ belong to Villain (so far).

What fandoms do you write for? Hogwarts Legacy is the only fandom I write for, and Sebastian is really the only character I care to write about (HAHA sorry everyone else.)

Top five fics by kudos? I don't really pay attention to stats so:

1. How to Make a Villain

And then whatever the next top four are 🙃

Do you respond to comments? I TRY VERY HARD TO but sometimes it takes me a while (spoons/adhd-brain/burn-out etc). Like any writer, comments give me LIFE, but something I wasn't expecting to struggle with is the feeling that I don't really deserve them. Who knew writing fic would be a lesson in accepting kindness lol

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Welp the only fics I've finished so far are my oneshots, and they all end with orgasms or romance so... 

What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Here Comes The Sun: a cute little Sebaura proposal oneshot hehe 💍🌞

Do you get hate on fics? Not openly, lol. I do love it when people get mad about what my characters do though so pls don't hold back from yelling at them if the urge ever strikes you. 🍿🍿🍿

Do you write smut? I dabble every now and then, but to be honest it's not my favourite thing to write. Before writing for HL, I'd never written a sex scene in my life and I wanted to give it a go to challenge myself. Lately though, I haven't really had any smutty motivation. I'm definitely a romantic at heart and I LOVE writing about the playful side of romance: young love, cute banter, silliness, teasing, etc. Also bickering. Nom nom nom gimme all da arguments.

Craziest crossover? You and me bb :lip_bite:

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Nope! Does this really happen? Like, someone copies and pastes a whole-ass fic and calls it their own? 🧿🧿🧿

Have you ever had a fic translated? I've had requests to translate Villain into Russian, Polish and French, but I'd like to complete the story first.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Does contributing crack fic ideas counts? Because 👀 yeah all the time lol 

All time favorite ship? Uhhh Sebastian and Aurélie HAHA. Otherwise, it's Allie and Noah foreverrrrr. (The movie version though, I've never actually read the book.)

💙 Honourable mentions go to Anne and Gilbert, and Emma and Mr Knightly. Dishonourable mention to Harry and Ginny, eurgh. 

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I only have enough spoons to write one long fic at a time, and I fully intend to finish Villain even if it kills me.

What are your writing strengths? Personally, I think my writers voice sounds distinctly me, which I'm very proud of.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? OOH this is a great question since Aurélie is fluent in French and I don't speak a bloody word. Generally speaking, I prefer to write it like: 'I can't speak a word of French,' she said in French. 

Sometimes I'll use French if the meaning is clear to someone who doesn't speak the language, or if I can give strong enough context clues, ie:

'How nice,' Aurélie said eventually, her accent thick with French indignation. 'I can see you're both very passionnés about Quidditch.'

Sebastian froze, sensing danger.

'Uh — Passionate?'

'Oui. I did not realise you had to undress yourself to discuss tactique.' 

Or if the POV character can accurately guess the meaning, like this:

'You don't have giant spiders in France then, I take it?'

'Non pas du tout!'

He didn't need to know French to translate that as a vehement no. 

But I try to avoid using the actual written language as much as possible because nothing kills immersion faster than trying to read dialogue you can't understand.

Also I frequently annoy my French friends for translations because uhh if I used Google Translate they'd probably guillotine me hehe.

First fandom you wrote in? This one.

Favorite fic you've written? How to Make a Villain is absolutely my greatest writing achievement ever hahaha. But aside from that, I'm really proud of Noctilucent because my goal was to write something suggestive without making it smutty and I was quite pleased with the outcome.

🦋 np tags for my writer babes and anyone else who wants to join in: @galaxiasgreen @lyworth @sloanesallow @sunsetplums @gingerlegacy07

[frnko-mars]

someone on tik tok being like “donna tartt is problematic because she made bunny say gay slurs against the gay character, call another a jew and a nazi in the same sentence, AND he’s misogynistic to the only main female character... like all for no reason whatsoever lol cancel her” like ok no it was for a reason because they murder him? like you know going into the book that the plot is that they get sick of his entire personality and behavior and his reaction to being excluded and they straight up murder him... what’s not clicking? like there is really a huge difference between active bigotry and writing bigoted characters who get their ass handed to them in the end

[readsthinkswrites]

Hana by Alena Mornstajnova

Here’s my first attempt:

29/9/22

‘Hana’ by Alena Mornstajnova, is probably the first novel I’ve read by a Czech writer. First, I’d like to give a shout-out to the translators, Peter and Julie Sherwood - fluent, not only in English and Czech, but also Slovak, Hungarian, Polish and Russian. Respect! from one who loves languages but has truly mastered none but her mother tongue.

Point of view (POV) ranks among the top 5 tick-boxes for an aspiring novelist, along with show- don’t tell, characterisation, location and historicity. Whose eyes do I read through? Whose thoughts impact my understanding? Whom do I sympathise with, root for, align myself with?

If the POV changes, how does the author signal this? And why change? To express the inner longings of a different character? To portray the original protagonist more objectively? Because of a historical time variation?

Be kind to your readers, a creative writing tutor once told me. Avoid spoon-feeding, but don’t weary or confuse him/her. I thought that, ideally, the new POV should be signalled by a different voice, not merely place, time or opinion. Is the new protagonist kinder, more angry, confused? What about his/her dialect, accent, vocabulary? Is he light-hearted, optimistic, winsome? Is she determined, feisty, a motivator? How does the new POV mirror this change?

Mornstajnova breaks all the POV rules and recommendations. It’s frustrating because the book works, nevertheless. It’s the story of a (mostly) non-religious Jewish Czech family during Hitler’s WW2 invasion. It spans 30 years from 1933 to 1963 and is written in 3 parts, though the parts don’t follow chronologically. Part 1, in first person, is from Mira’s POV, starting when she was aged 9. Part 2 is still her POV, but is about her family before she was born. Part 3 is a first person POV from Mira’s aunt Hana.

Perversely it isn’t difficult for the reader to spot a POV change. More difficult, if anything, is a frequent time switch, even though the months and years are clearly signalled for each chapter.

In recent years there have been many holocaust and WW2 novels – is this just another? Apart from being Czech, it also focuses more on the lead-up to the atrocities and people’s preparations and misapprehensions than on the horrific events themselves.

I found it profoundly moving. Seemingly, breaking a few conventions isn’t a punishable offence.

[shinylitwick94]

Shinylitwick's summer (SF/)Fantasy reads - Part I

As it turns out trying to complete the r/fantasy book bingo and not wanting to get into heavy reads this year meant that I spent most of my summer reading almost exclusively SFF, and I read a lot of it. I'm sharing my thoughts on these with anyone who might be interested in them. This covers books I read between july and the first week of september 2021. I'll be doing this in two parts because it would be too long otherwise.

As a reminder, these are personal thoughts, not professional reviews, so take everything I say with a grain of salt.

Without further ado:

Under Heaven, by Guy Gavriel Kay

By this point I think I can say pretty firmly I’m a fan of GGK. I just really enjoy his “alternate history with a dash of fantasy” stuff, and I like his writing and the fact that he’s so good at capturing that sort of bittersweet melancholy I’m a huge junkie for.

That being said, Under Heaven started off amazing, spent a lot of time in eh, and finished solid. I like it, but it’s my least favorite of his books so far. I think it essentially suffers from making promises it doesn’t deliver on. There’s a lot of stories which go nowhere, which I’m sometimes fine with, but I don’t think it worked here. Especially with the sister. I have very little familiarity with Chinese history, but from what I’ve read in other reviews, he stuck rather more closely to the history here than he usually does, which maybe limited his ability to maneuver his characters. Still, I would recommend it, if this is your style.

The Last Wish, by Andrzej Sapkowski

I’ve tried reading this before…in Russian. Don’t know why I thought that was a good idea (something about maybe a better translation?). Anyway, my Russian obviously wasn’t up to scratch and the books are polish anyway.

So, English translation it was. As many of you will know this is actually a short story collection, which is the first part of the Witcher book series. I’d already watched the tv show, and played a bit of the game, so some of the stories were new to me, and others weren’t.

I liked how the book highlighted the “twisted fairytale” aspect of some of these (e.g Snow White, Rumplestiltskin) – that didn’t really come across so well in the adaptations. I think altogether it was a fun and enjoyable read.

The Farthest Shore, by Ursula Le Guin (Book 3 in the Earthsea Cycle)

Ursula Le Guin made me cry again. I’ve been talking about Le Guin a lot recently, with a friend who’s read a lot of her nonfiction, but none of her fiction, while I’ve for the most part just read the fiction. She’s one of those authors who just seems to get it, and who knows how to use the genre to its full extent. Magic and dragons aren’t just a toy, but a tool to actually say something.

She does that across the board, of course, but Farthest Shore hit me harder than the other Earthsea books have, maybe because imho it’s the saddest so far. There’s a lot about death, acceptance, and time passing, and responsibility in this which I really liked. I feel like it manages to get its themes across in a way that is crystal clear, but not ham-fisted. I loved this book, I really did, but I feel like I will need to read it again in a few years, and I’m sure it will be a different read then.

One of many nice quotes:

“When I was young, I had to choose between the life of being and the life of doing. And I leapt at the latter like a trout to a fly. But each deed you do, each act, binds you to itself and to its consequences, and makes you act again and yet again. Then very seldom do you come upon a space, a time like this, between act and act, when you may stop and simply be. Or wonder who, after all, you are.”

The Black Company, by Glen Cook (Book 1 in the Chronicles of the Black Company)

This was sold to me as the granddaddy of grimdark fantasy, and I can certainly see it. It’s clearly influenced a lot of later fantasy authors (Erikson, Abercrombie, to some extent Martin). Yet somehow it manages to be less explicit, or graphic, than some modern grimdark. It can be pretty gross too, but it knows how to cut away when necessary and is usually smart about implying things. I also really liked the basic concept of following characters who work for the Dark Lord (or Dark Lady in this case). The characters themselves are interesting enough – in this first book we don’t go super in depth on a lot of them, but the ones we’re stuck with are decent, and the story holds. Still, I felt like this was more a worldbuilding book than a character book, if that makes sense. And I did like the world. It’s appropriately dark and petty and sucks, but hey that’s what we’re here for.

So overall, I enjoyed it and would recommend to anyone who is interested into the more grimdark side of fantasy. Stay away from it if that’s not your thing or you’re super squeamish.

(most of Tumblr dni I guess)

The Empress of Salt and Fortune, by Nghi Vo

This was a fun little read. I had no idea what to expect going in and I ended up enjoying it. The story follows a nonbinary monk as they go through the affairs of a deceased empress and in discussion with Rabbit, the said empress’s servant, learn her story. The story is mostly told by Rabbit and each section follows a particular object. I liked how that was set up and the way in which the whole picture was slowly revealed to the reader. It’s apparently been read as a feminist story and I can see where that reading comes from, and it was likely intentionally so. It wasn’t the most important part of this to me, but up to you to judge.

I will say though, and this is not the book’s fault, but mine, that reading a story where the POV character uses they/them pronouns was more confusing than I anticipated. I kept expecting there to be more of them at random points in the narrative, and having to backtrack to understand.

It’s a short nice read, but definitely something I feel more comfortable recommending to people here than irl.

Equal Rites, by Terry Pratchett (Discworld)

Not much to say here. Discworld is Discworld and can do no wrong, apparently. This might be one of my favorites so far. Loved Granny to pieces, it was fun, it was funny, it was thoughtful without being heavy. It’s the Discworld, what can you do.

The House in the Cerulean Sea, by T.J. Klune

This was pure tooth-rotting fluff, which I think I kind of needed to balance out my reading. It’s cute, it’s cheesy, it’s wholesome it owns it and is proud of it. It’s very LGBT friendly. It’s a good guys win, bad guys lose, discrimination dies today kind of thing.

I’m surprised it’s not bigger on Tumblr tbh (it’s not non-existent either, I checked, just smaller than expected; maybe it’s too nice?).

Anyway, I did like it, and I’m exaggerating just a little bit on the cheesiness. It’s a sweet little story about a character who would normally be played by Martin Freeman (if a bit chubbier) learning that there is more to life than Rules and Regulations and finding love and a family.

If that’s your sort of thing, give it a shot.

[off-in-the-moors]

Joseph Kavinsky analysis, part 2

aka no voice and no dream pack

Warnings: spoilers for the whole Raven Cycle, mentions of: drug-use, abuse, death, s*cid, xenophobia

Part 1 // Part 2

Before starting, I wanted to thank for likes and support, not only on part 1 but also on my other posts. I was writing this more for the catharsis, after months of seeing and not really speaking about a lot of stuff. It’s nice to know, somebody read it. Some say, Kavinsky is their comfort character and, well, he will stay with me for a very long time. But enough of that. Let's talk about the point of view, xenophobia and the Dream Pack.

PoV

The running motif in TRC is, all antagonists get PoVs. No matter if they appear in one book (like Whelk) or reoccur (like the Greenmatles). The reader gets multiple chapters with their backstories, internal thoughts and goals. This move by the author is a double-edged sword, on one hand we get a better understanding of them but on the other, by knowing them better they become less effective antagonists and the air of mystery and surprise of what they're up-to/what they know is lost. E.g. In TDT we are first told about Colin Greenmatle and what is he capable of, making him a good threat for our main characters. But when we finally meet him in BLLB, with his attitude and scenes like dissing Ronan's Latin grammar or making cheese crackers while his wife is held at gun-point, he becomes more of a comedic antagonist than a villain to fear.

But here's the thing: I already lied to you. In TRC, all antagonists get PoVs, except for Kavinsky. It's a odd exception from the rule, considering Gray Man in TDT and The Wasp Demon in The Raven King, also got PoVs. But why? There are two things to look at. One I already mentioned. By giving a character PoV, the reader gets better understanding of them. By not giving Kavinsky one, Margaret didn't give anything to make K or his actions clear or understandable. By not knowing his motivations, K is left to pure interpretations, but how the reader will do it mostly will be influenced by his demonetization. Of course, not everybody will just accept what the book tells them without thinking for themselves but most fans don't.

"Bang", he said softly, withdrawing the fake gun. "See you on the street."

Alone, this single line can be interpreted in many different ways. Is it K being angry and threatening Ronan? Or maybe Joseph breaking inside because he was proofen, he really has no one? It all depends on the reader.

Second, when asked on her tumblr, if she'll ever write anything from K's pov (in 2015, before The Raven King was published), M*ggie said she won't, because: she already explored that type of character ("the thoughts and motivations of a powerful, suicidal, creative person with few inhibitions") in Sinner (2014, spin-off/companion book of her older series, The Wolves of Mercy Falls, 2009-2011 for the main three) with Cole St. Clair; that writing through PoV of such character is emotionally and mentally draining for her (which is understandable); and even if she wanted to explore it again in the future, she would through a different character's lenses than K's.

Let's talk about St. Clair.

The characters of Cole and Kavinsky have some similarities: both are drug addicts, who are rich.

That's where they end.

Cole was a famous musician, having the stereotypical rock-star life (drugs, alcohol and sleeping with fans included) with good family relationships, while K was a son of a mobster who tried to kill him and a mother who was a drug-addict herself. While their perspectives would have similarities, there is also other problems. Cole St. Clair already got PoVs in his series and a stand-alone book, Joseph Kavinsky got nothing and will get nothing. Cole had friends that cared for him and helped him, Joseph Kavinsky had his Dream Pack (which whom we don't know what type of relation he had) and his customers who we can safely say, only cared for what he can provide them with, he tried to befriend or start a relation with Ronan who rejected even the idea of it and no one even reached out to him. Cole got his happy ending and (hinted at) a girl he loved, K got rejected by everyone and committed public suicide. (Now, I heard a opinion that K didn't commit suicide, because the dragon killed him. Here is the thing, K could move out of the way multiple times, even Ronan shouted to him to move. But he didn't. He watched the dragon fly towards him and just said "The world is a nightmare.". He choose death.)

People wanted K's PoV, because they wanted to know, what pushed him to do what he did in TDT. But, in my opinion, even if M*ggie gave K pov, she would use it to further demonize him than to make the reader understand him more. She already did write a whole post exaggerating and straw-manning the canon, just to also say "Kavinsky has a very logical backstory that leads him to this place". A backstory we as the reader never truly see and one she forgot to write into her book. At the end, she truly cared only about Ronan.

Xenophobia

The Raven Cycle is a very flawed and problematic series, there are already many other posts taking about racism, misogyny, lack of diversity and many other issues with it, but in regards to Kavinsky, I'll only touch on the xenophobia. (I could talk also about portray of metal-illness, but I'm not the person to talk about it and I would feel comfortable with it.)

Kavinsky is a stereotype of a Slavic person, one we see in American media since the Cold War, especially in 80s movies. The Evil Russian trope. The son of the mobster, drug-addict, forger who can get you anything even illegal stuff, a thief.

When describing Kavinsky, one of the things Ronan mentions is: "refugee's face, hollowed-eyed and innocent". One could argue, "refugee" has many meanings, but boiling it down, is a person who came to the country to escape and seek a refuge. Many people moved to America to find a better life, in the believe of the American Dream, and many of them where driven to do that, especially from ex-Eastern Bloc countries. Kavinsky's Bulgarian, unknown if an immigrant himself or a son of immigrants, but the point still stands.

About Blue’s comment "import from somewhere else" I don't need to say much. First, obvious: You don't import people, only foreign goods, like cars. Second: this shows, he is "the other" in the eyes of the characters.

There is more to it, then just the physical description. We need to look at the outfit he wears. White tank top, white sunglasses, a small earring in one ear and a gold chain around his neck. This gives two images: one of a typical douche-bag, party asshole and the rich kid; the second of a Slavic stereotype, especially of a Russian criminal. If Margaret wanted to make K even bigger stereotype, she would dress him like a dress/gopnik, in a tracksuit.

The thing is: M*ggie could had saved the situation if she had subverted the stereotypes. E.g. K didn't wanting anything to do with the crime live, his family was forced into by circumstances or K being the guy to get stuff from, but he isn't doing it for any gain.

The truth is, K being Bulgarian doesn't add anything to his character, except for xenophobia. (Personally, I tried to find where the surname "Kavinsky" came from. It is Slavic, that much I can tell you for sure, but the rest is my speculation and searching. My best guesses are: Russian (it appears most commonly in Russian, after USA and a use in Russia set novel) or Polish (because it has uncanny simulates to the surname "Kawiński", if it was anglicized like e.g. "Kamiński" into "Kaminsky"). This isn't a common surname and with Peter from the To All the Boys trilogy and the musician, it's hard to find any information.)

But for now, K's portray is one of the many issues.

The Dream Pack or the lack of it

The Dream Pack is the unofficial name for K's group, with whom he parties and races (the canon name is "Kavinsky's Pack of Dogs" which is ugh). They're unfortunately, a non-characters. It's bolt to even call them background characters. Their portray, or again, lack of it, leaves them as props, their only role is to be K's followers and to show K as a leader on a equal ground as Gansey. We're lead to believe, they are like Kavinsky, yet another raven boys, and to make are main characters so “not like the other raven boys”. Problem rises in connection to the previous point, out of four members, only one has an English surname.

Prokopenko is a Ukrainian surname and for his description, we get "ears like wingnuts", "crooked shoulders" and his voice as "milky with drugs". It's said he had "recently attained official crony status", and was noted being in close desecrate to K for a while. Later we discover Proko is a forgery, a dream creature like Matthew and Aurora. It's heavily implied the real Prokopenko is dead, but if K had something to do with it, is unknown. He is the only character to "chortle", which Margaret said she hates and also "fratty boys and the chortling men they turn into". From this we can deduce, that not only the Dream Pack and people at K's parties but all raven boys (with the exception of the main characters) were writen like this on purpose as the personification of everything M*ggie hates. We are also informed, he drives a Golf.

Skov, who according to a deleted scene, full name is Blake Skovron, is polish (or at least anglicized version of it). In said deleted scene he's described as "major asshole, minor bigot" (unfortunately I couldn't find it to confirm it). The only canon stuff about him is: he drives a RX-7 (Mazda RX-7).

Jiang is Chinese, making him one of three canon Asian characters we see in the series (not counting Henry's father, because he's just mentioned, same goes for the Vancouver crowd). Like Proko, his role is a little bigger. In the Raven King, after Ronan finally returns to school after a long time of skipping, he tells him: "Hey, man, I thought you'd died". Ronan doesn't respond, but tells the reader he doesn't want to see Jiang outside of his car, racing. The only other thing we know about him: he drives a Supra (Toyota Supra).

Swan is the only one with an English name, but all we know about him is: he drives Volkswagen Golf, one that matches Proko's.

(For future writers: what car a character drives, isn't a personality trait.)

With the already minimal diversity, this shows the non-Americans as the antagonists or at least "the worst". On the opposite side, we have our main characters. Richard Campbell Gansey III, who has the whitest and British name I ever saw; Adam Parrish, born and raised in Henrietta, Virginia; Ronan Lynch, son of a Irish immigrant, whose Irish identity starts and ends on tit-bits; Blue Sargent, who is half-tree and ambiguous, but was drawn as white by the author multiple times (Yes, I am aware of the Instagram post, but Margaret herself said, she isn't confirming anything that isn't already written in her books. She couldn't even confirm Adam's hair color and made a joke out of it.) The only exception is Noah Czerny, whose surname is Slavic (probably Czech), but this bares no effect on his character.

The Dream Pack are the whole communities babies, created by head-canons and fanons, their relations with Kavinsky and themselves are explored, who they are as people, their appearance, their interests... This is beautiful how many different versions and interpretations of non-existing characters is there. (I, myself also made a version for a rewrite, based partly on the fanon.)

But at the end of the day, the fans did the author's job of creating believe friend group and in the end, their only function was to show, Kavinsky is a king, just like Gansey.

[lunavadash-creates]

I have so many ideas, more or less obvious for headcanons or drabbles, but I don't know where to start. Do you have any rules, btw? I know you said you are willing to write anything and have no specific preferences, but I would like to know.. I am not sure how to name it. Boundaries? Forms of requesting? Anything could help lol

But, before I request.. I saw you are Sabaton fan! To be honest, I have never heard their music, but I heard loads of good opinions. Could you recommend your favourites? Or other bands you are listening to?

I am sorry, but I think I am addicted to music and I literally crave for anything good!

🔪

Sure so:

I don’t write illegal stuff;; like r--e, inc--t, p--o u know. illegal stuff. When it comes to rules it would be nice to know if you want to have a gender-neutral, male or female reader or if you want something in a 3rd person pov. I’m not too good with 1st person pov as I feel awkward.

  But overall I just need to know if you prefer drabbles/headcanons and more or less what would you like to read. It can be like “assassins buying waffles” or “Arno after getting caught in the rain run into the expensive cafe where he met a magical, blue-haired cat that took him on an epic adventure to find the lost finger of Altair”. 😂😂

I LOVE ALL SABATONS SONGS. Literally. But my faves... like faves among faves:

Shiroyama, The red baron, 40:1, Union, Fur Immer, Gott mit uns, A lifetime of war, To hell and back, hearts of iron, night witches, smoking snakes, Swedish pagans, Carolus Rex, the last stand and the last batallion

WHen it comes to other band:

DRAGONFORCE. i love all the songs.

Dartagnan

Black Veil Brides/Andy Black

Whithin Temptation

Wisdom

Nightwish

Also I listen to songs of different genres and in different languages so there are chinese, korean, japanese, russian, german, french, polish and  Italian songs I like. 

[thewidowsghost]

Fox - Chapter 21

Previously on Fox:

"We need you two to escort a nuclear engineer out of Iran. It will need to be an undercover mission. Leave the Quinjet about a hundred miles from the facility, and drive the engineer back to the Quinjet," (Y/n) nods. "You need to get there as soon as possible, but tonight if you can," Hill says. "Try to have him here by Sunday."

"Yes, ma'am," Natasha and (Y/n) say in unison, standing up.

"Good luck," Hill says, nodding to dismiss the two women.

With a nod from (Y/n), her and Natasha run back outside to their Quinjet and pull it into the air.

3rd Person POV

That night, (Y/n) and Natasha land the Quinjet in Odessa and get a car before starting to drive to the facility in Iran.

"If we pull an all nighter, we could be ten minutes from the facility by 7:30," (Y/n) says. "It doesn't open until 10:00, maybe we could get breakfast," (Y/n) offers.

"As long as we get there in time to get the engineer out in time," Natasha says and (Y/n) nods.

"Of course," (Y/n) answers. "I'll take the first shift, then I'll wake you when I'm ready to sleep. That good?" she asks.

"Okay," Natasha agrees.

"I'm going to get some coffee first," (Y/n) glances over at Natasha, a smile on her face. "To, you know, fuel that addiction." Natasha rolls her eyes and smiles.

"Of course," she says and (Y/n) pulls over at a coffee shop.

"You want anything?" (Y/n) asks. "Pumpkin spice is in season now," she offers.

"Sure," Natasha says and (Y/n) smiles. (Y/n) pulls her wallet out of the middle console of the car and opens the door.

"See you in a minute," (Y/n) says, jumping out of the car and walking into the coffee shop.

(Y/n) walks in and up to the counter. "Могу я получить две большие латте из тыквенных специй, пожалуйста?" Can I get two large pumpkin spice lattes, please?  (Y/n) asks the women at the counter.

The women smiles, "Да, мэм," Yes, ma'am, the women answers. She bustles around behind the counter and after a minute, she sets two large coffees on the counter.

(Y/n) hands the women 271 Ukrainian Hryvnia, "Здесь, сохранить изменения." Here, keep the change, the women smiles and nods.

"Спасибо," Thank you, the women says, and (Y/n) nods.

"нет проблем," No problem, (Y/n) picks up the coffees and walks out the door to the car. Natasha rolls down the window and (Y/n) hands the redhead one of the lattes.

(Y/n) gets in the car, setting her cup in the cup holder. "That women was surprisingly nice," (Y/n) says, backing the car out of the parking lot and continuing on the road. Natasha sends her a strange look as she takes a sip of her coffee.

"Why's that?" Natasha asks.

"She understood my awful Russian," (Y/n) says and Natasha looks at her again.

"You speak Russian?" Natasha asks interestingly.

"Я могу говорить кое-что обо всем на самом деле. Испанский, французский, немецкий, латинский, китайский, португальский, польский, итальянский, немного греческий.," I can speak some of everything really. Spanish, French, German, Latin, Chinese, Portuguese, Polish, Italian, some Greek. (Y/n) says and Natasha looks over at her, impressed.

"I'm impressed Stark," Natasha says and (Y/n) rolls her eyes.

"What can you speak Agent Romanoff?" (Y/n) asks, glancing over at the redhead.

"French, Russian and Latin," Natasha answers. "Not as much as you, but I could learn. How do you keep that much information in that brain of yours?" Natasha asks, then adds teasingly, "Doesn't seem too big."

"Haha, very funny," (Y/n) answers. "I have a photographic memory, so I remember just about everything, from anytime." Natasha suddenly looks guilty, "What?" (Y/n) asks, concern evident in her voice.

"You remember me shooting you?" Natasha asks softly.

"Nat, it wasn't that long ago, and I'm fine," (Y/n) answers, taking a sip of her latte. "If you're really that concerned," (Y/n) pulls her shirt up and with one hand, points to where the bullet had struck her, just above the scar from the spear in Budapest. "See, nothing there, except the stupid spear scar," (Y/n) says, dropping her shirt. "Get some sleep, Nat. I'll wake you when I'm ready to switch out."

"Okay (Y/n)," Natasha says softly and (Y/n) summons a blanket out of nowhere and Natasha relaxes underneath it.

(Y/n) drives all night, careful not to wake the former assassin. She knew that if it came to a fight, she would need Natasha's skills.

Around 7:30, Natasha wakes up, seeing that (Y/n) is still driving. She sits up, and annoyed look on her face.

"(Y/n) Stark!" Natasha yells and (Y/n) turns to her. "Why didn't you wake me up?" she asks.

"One, you seemed tired, two, I sleep to much, three, I had coffee, four, I figured if something led to fight, you may as well be well rested," (Y/n) says, and Natasha scowls at her.

"I hate you," Natasha mutters and (Y/n) raises and eyebrow at her.

"Yeah, love you too, sweetheart," (Y/n) teases and Natasha raises and eyebrow at her. "Hate me enough that you don't want breakfast?" (Y/n) asks.

"No," Natasha mutters.

"Thought so," (Y/n) smiles pulling into a parking lot in front of a restaurant.

"I still don't like you," Natasha says as the two get out of the car.

(Y/n) sighs and rolls her eyes. The two walk over to the door, and (Y/n) opens it for Natasha.

"Thanks," Natasha says, walking in.

"Привет дамы, сколько?" Hello ladies, how many? A host asks.

"Два, пожалуйста," Two please, (Y/n) answers in Russian.

"Ладно, следуй за мной," Okay, follow me, the man says, picking up two menus and leading the way to a booth. Natasha and (Y/n) sit down. "Американцы?" Americans?  the man asks and (Y/n) nods. "I do speak English if that helps," the host says in a heavy Russian accent. "What can I get you ladies to drink?" the man asks, pulling out a notepad.

"I'll take -" (Y/n) begins, but Natasha cuts her off.

"Two coffees, please," Natasha says and the man sends the two a knowing look before walking away.

"Romanoff, you know me so well," (Y/n) says, smiling at Natasha, but the redhead frowns back.

"Doesn't mean I hate you any less," Natasha says and (Y/n) sighs.

"I'm never going to win you back, am I?" (Y/n) asks sadly.

"Nope," Natasha says and (Y/n) leans back against the back of the booth, and crosses her arms.

"Here you ladies go," the host says, setting down the two coffees. "Now, what can I get the two of you?" he asks in his heavy Russian accent.

"I'll take the pancakes," (Y/n) says uncrossing her arms and sitting up and Natasha nods.

"Same," Natasha says and the man nods, walking over to the kitchen and relaying the orders of pancakes in Russian.

(Y/n) leans back, recrossing her arms, her biceps flexing as she does so. "So, I guess we're not talking anymore?" (Y/n) asks, looking at Natasha. "This might make this mission slightly awkward."

Natasha doesn't answer and that seems to be (Y/n)'s answer. After a couple of minutes, the man brings out the pancakes and (Y/n) smiles.

"Thank you, sir," (Y/n) says and the man nods.

The two eat their pancakes in an uncomfortable silence. After about an hour and a half, the two pay the man, leaving a generous tip, and walk silently out to the car. (Y/n) hops into the driver's seat and finish the drive to the facility.

"We've got about fifteen minutes to kill, so..." (Y/n) trails off, a hurt look in her eyes when Natasha doesn't answer. "I guess I'll go scout the perimeter before we get the engineer out of here," Natasha nods and (Y/n) gets out of the car.

Natasha watches (Y/n) as the women walks behind the building. (Y/n) climbs up the back of the building, making sure to keep out of sight as she moves towards the edge of the building, senses on high alert. She reaches the edge wall, making sure no one suspicious was around. After checking all around, (Y/n) stands up nodding to Natasha who was looking up at her, then drops down from the roof, landing in a crouch on the ground, about a hundred feet below.

(Y/n) walks back over to the driver side door and opens it, getting in the car. "I couldn't sense anyone around, but I feel that there was a reason they chose the two of us to escort the nuclear engineer out of here. We should be on alert when getting the engineer out of here," Natasha nods in agreement. "You drive, I'll keep watch out the back window?" (Y/n) offers and Natasha nods. "Good," (Y/n) answers. "From what I remember from the file, the engineer is always the first one here. His name is Alistair Fitz," Natasha nods. "I guess if your not going to talk, I'll wait outside." (Y/n) gets out of the car and leans up against the back of the car.

A few minutes later, a car drives up and parks outside the facility. (Y/n) nods to Natasha and walks over to the car, standing about ten feet away. She waits until the man exits his car to walk up to him.

"You must be my escort," the man says turning to (Y/n). The man has curly blondish-brown hair, blue eyes, and is about six feet tall. "I was told that there were two women here to pick me up. Where's the other?" he asks.

"She's in the car," (Y/n) says, pointing to the car.

"I suggest we get moving now," the man says and (Y/n) nods.

"Sorry, sir," (Y/n) says. "Is there anything you need me to grab?"

"I just have a suitcase in the back, if you wouldn't mind," he says and (Y/n) nods.

"Go ahead and tell my partner to get out of your seat and into the driver's seat," (Y/n) says and Fitz laughs before making his way over to the car. He says a few words to Natasha and the redhead moves over to the driver's seat, and Fitz moves into the passenger. (Y/n) grabs Fitz's suitcase and puts in in the truck before getting in the back seat.

"Natasha, drive," (Y/n) says, and Natasha backs out of the parking lot, (Y/n)'s senses on high alert for anything that seemed out of the ordinary.

A few hours later, the trio are just outside of Odessa when something awful happens. Someone shoots out the tires as Natasha is driving around a cliff side. (Y/n) makes a split second decision and punches through the passenger side window. Natasha grabs Fitz and dives through as (Y/n) burns a hole through the side of the door and jumps through it. The car goes over the edge of the cliff.

(Y/n) jumps to her feet, her senses on high alert. She looks around, and catches a flash of silver in the corner of her eye. (Y/n) whirls around and catches a metal fist, the force sending her back a few feet.

(Y/n) grabs the other fist and turns to see Natasha covering the engineer, "Nat, take him, and run," Natasha meets (Y/n)'s gaze and Natasha sees something that she wishes she could never see in those usually gentle (E/C) eyes - pure, unguarded terror. "Go!" she yells and Natasha reluctantly grabs the engineer's arm and begins to lead the engineer away.

(Y/n) focuses on the man that she was struggling to contain. He was tall, brown hair, blue eyes, but clearly trying to kill her, Natasha, and the engineer so she doesn't hesitate to light her hand clenched around the metal fist on fire.

Instead of reacting, the man takes his a leg and sweeps (Y/n)'s out from under her and pinning her to the hard asphalt underneath her. There is a strange metallic grinding  noise and (Y/n) rolls out of the way as the metal fist comes down and breaks the asphalt just where her head had been. (Y/n) rolls far enough away and jumps to her feet, her muscles tensed for a fight, keeping part of her mind fixed on Natasha and the engineer behind her.

The man stares at (Y/n) as she slowly moves closer, one hand on fire and the other crackling with lightning. Then, the man pulls out a gun, and (Y/n) stands where she is, remembering once again that Natasha and the engineer were behind her.

(Y/n) charges at the man and he fires two shots before (Y/n) reaches him, one in the right shoulder, and the other in her left hip, but (Y/n) doesn't break the sprint, landing a lightning surrounded fist on the mechanical arm which makes the arm freeze for a minute before landing a fire punch at his head but the man dodges, grabbing her right arm and pinning it behind her back, spinning her towards Natasha. (Y/n) meets Natasha's green gaze.

"Go! Leave me here! Finish the mission!" (Y/n) calls out, flipping onto the man's back, ripping her shoulder out of it's socket with a loud pop. (Y/n) uses her left arm and pulls the man into a choke hold, slowly pulling the man down to the ground, her right arm hanging uselessly at her side. The man pulls up his metal arm but (Y/n) uses a leg to pin the arm back. (Y/n) meets Natasha's gaze again and the redhead sees something else there, determination.

The man struggles underneath (Y/n)'s strength but (Y/n) locks her left arm in. The man seems to make one last desperate attempt to kill the engineer and fires a bullet, straight through Natasha's upper left hip, killing Fitz, who was cowering behind the former assassin.

Natasha, her green eyes widening, crosses her right arm across her body, clutching the bullet wound.

(Y/n), who's gaze had been fixed on Natasha, loosens her grip slightly, giving the metal armed man the chance he needed to grab (Y/n)'s right arm making her cry out in pain. He flips her over his shoulder, grabbing her left arm and kicking her in the back, sending her sprawling onto the ground.

Natasha slumps to the ground, her face pale, but she meets (Y/n)'s (E/C) gaze once again. (Y/n) kicks the man in the stomach and he stumbles before grabbing her left leg, snapping it in two, or rather, four, each of the main bones being snapped in half.

Seemingly satisfied, the man leaves the two women lying on the ground.

(Y/n) drags herself over to Natasha and Natasha, realizing what she was going to do, tries to drag herself away, but (Y/n) reaches her first.

(Y/n) grabs her ankle and Natasha screams at her to stop but (Y/n) just says, "Nat, I would give my life to save yours. You have so much more good to give this world. I did my part, now it's your turn," she just concentrates on healing Natasha's bullet wound.

It drains her and before the wound is completely healed, her head cracks against the pavement, black spots swimming in her eyes, she weakly snaps her fingers and a SHIELD COM appears in Natasha's hand. The only thing running through Natasha's mind is the hurt look (Y/n) had had on her face earlier, and it was tearing Natasha apart.

Word Count: 2624 words

Forget me saying that I'm no good at writing fight scenes, I think this one was pretty good. I mean, I think it was good. What do you guys think?

I also hope I wasn't making Nat seem helpless here. The whole premises was that (Y/N) was keeping the man at bay while Natasha got the engineer.

Side note, I didn't know who the engineer was so I made up a name, well not really. I took the name of a SHIELD engineer and searched up his dad.

Okay, Imma go now, see y'all in the next chapter!

Love,           Kaitlynn ❤😍

Imma tag peoples now: @confusinggemini612​, @gay-disaster826​, @thelastavenger-3000​, @osugahunnyicedtea​, @night-howl199​, @minicastle​, @happilyeverafterfantasybooks​, @billiebanner​, @me-and-sweatpants​, @scottjudah​, @scarlet-raccoon​, @whore-for-charlynch​, @nyx-aria, @night-howl199​, @brittanyrenne2004​, @juegamiri29​, @minicastle​, @peggycarter-steverogers​, @gay-disaster826​, @guitargodme, @avengers-avenging

[astrarche-x]

The Poppy War: thoughts

Context: I saw this book heavily recommended on tumblr and even though I didn't research it (to avoid spoilers), it looked like something for me. I also realized recently that I haven't read a modern high fantasy in a while, so when my friend told me "hey, I've read this book and need someone to rant about it with", I was like "sure can I borrow it?". It is worth noting that my friend's tone was rather disapproving and we mostly share our taste in books, but still, I approached The Poppy War with a very favourable mindset.

Which didn't last very long.

Fortunately, after some time the book got better, so: disapproval first, praise later.

- the first part, aka Rin's time in academia, was so predictable and cliche I went through it purely out of malice (to be able to roast it). It was fitting every cliche you can find in a books set at school and bore me to death.

- Jiang: aaaa. This is coming from my personal experiences, but I've had a hard time with my "cool but weird" teacher lately and I just can't get past this trope without being angry at writers who do not acknowledge how toxic it usually is. (tho in Jiang's case it was more or less ok) Also the reveal of his backstory was very predictable.

- Rin: i couldn't bear how "edgy" she was. I started to like her when the actual war begun and she turned from "i'm not like others lol" to "i'm so scared, i want to be safe. also what is sleep". (also because she has been a chaotic mess the whole time and the war actually made it more believable). I had issues with her character though - for example she comes to the academia when she's like 15/16 and even though a lot happens to her over the course of the action, i had a feeling she hasn't actually matured. Did she develop? In terms of abilities, knowledge, rage etc - yes. But I didn't think she was more mature at the end and it really bothered me (as i was still picturing as a 15-year-old and had to constantly remind myself that she's an adult now).

- self-harm: uuh handled in a weird way? It's obvious that Rin's self-harming to cope with stress in academia is not healthy and the context shows that the heroine is under immense pressure which has a bad effect on her, but the narrative seems to present self-harm as a necessity to manage life and never really condemns it - not only explicitly, but any negative consequences of it are also absent.

- this book (and Grishaverse) would be more enjoyable if I hadn't taken that basic Russian course. I cringed every time I read Kitay's name (and it appears quite often...). Literally why name your character China? It's such a bad idea...

- I don't know if the original edition has trigger warnings, but oh boy, i kinda wish Polish one had them too. Not that they would actually stop me from reading this, but I started this book with intent to get some nice escapism with a tad of intellectual challenge and I wasn't quite prepared for what I got. I saw a post that talked about how in fantasy or sci-fi wars are a thing that just happens and serve more as a plot device, but are not treated as like an actual tragedy and how this isn't the case for The Poppy War. I think this is a very good point and I very much agree with this but I wish this book was marketed in a more accurate way (with mention of the genocides) than "cool protagonist goes from poor orphan to badass" (almost literal description from the back cover).

- on genocides: the Golyn Niis part was so hard to read. It totally gave me flashbacks to the time when we talked about Shoah in Polish lessons in high school and I had to read like 4 short stories by Tadeusz Borowski about Auschwitz, one novella by Zofia Nałkowska about investigating Nazi crimes and one book about the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising by Hanna Krall & Marek Edelman* (and it was all in the span of like 1-1,5 month) - all of which were written by survivors of said events, so it was an extremely difficult and emotionally exhausting read. Parts of The Poppy War had the same effect on me, so it shows the author really did her research and is to be appreciated, although while I would like to know what happens plot-wise in the next parts of the trilogy, I think it would be too emotionally draining for me to read.

- Having said all this, I found the Speer genocide theme really interesting. The legends and propaganda surrounding it, its impact on both country politics and Altan's (and Rin's) personal stories... Also I really liked how Rin's perception and understanding of it changed. Plus it served really well as a backstory - its effect on the whole plot was huge and manifesting in unexpected places but without the feeling of being hammered into reader's head.

- Altan: that guy. He was an interesting character, but a very unlikeable one. He was such an asshole... (And yeah obvs still trauma and all that but he really was one). Also I found it confusing that at the end of the book Rin was like "omg his power is so strong because he's fueled by revenge!"... duuh? It was obvious since her convo with Jiang about lore students?

- But generally Rin's relation to Altan was for me one of the strong points of this book. I'd say that Rin's emotions regarding him were very realistically written - admiration, longing for approval, the feeling of similarity, anger, frustration about his expectations, the need to rise to the challenge he posed, to be his equal... And then the shock as he fell from the pedestal she constructed; the understanding, the pity and the sadness. I loved how complicated that was and that we as readers got to see that Rin's Altan and the actual Altan were two different persons, even though the narrative is close to Rin's POV.

- Chaghan: he was my fave character. This is, again, personal, but works of fiction work 200% better for me if the characters are well-written - which The Poppy War rather lacked: few characters were interesting and even less were likeable. Chaghan was both - maybe he didn't have a big arc and was rather a secondary character, but he was intriguing, had that close bond with Altan (I ship them) and also was the most competent person in the cike (Quara was the second one). He was very straightforward and had that no-bullshit attitude, but unlike Rin, Altan etc., what he said and his actions actually made sense. So every time he had to went away from the main character I was devastated...

- What I really enjoyed about this book was the parts about shamanism. I'm not an expert about what goes on in modern fantasy, but I have a feeling that a character of a shaman often appears in a very exoticised way (wonder why is that /s), whereas in this book it was treated seriously and was a basis for a great magic system. 9/10 very original take, highly recommend.

* books mentioned: "Medaliony" by Zofia Nałkowska, "Zdążyć przed panem Bogiem" (eng: Shielding the flame) by Hanna Krall & Marek Edelman, Pożegnanie z Marią by Tadeusz Borowski

[minilev]

what are your plans for your cyberpunk V/oc?

OOOOHHHHH BOOOYYYYY! What a wonderful ask, thank you for giving me an opportunity to rant about them! :D

I want to go first with female V (same gender characters help me to immerse better, can’t help it), she is soviet, street kid and she is V because no one can pronounce her long ass russian surname that starts with v. Muscle gopnik solo girl in tracksuit (because of tracksuit I can’t unsee her looking like Billie Eilish, i need to know avaliable face options, maybe I’ll be able to make her look like Varvara Shmykova). Also C2077 says that V is 22 years old and... 👀 nope, she is older.

And my male V is gonna be corporate netrunner in his 40s. He is V because his real name was quite famous in the past and was often printed on arrest warrants. Now to be able to break the system from the inside he has to play a very dangerous game and not to get caught. I’m pretty sure that male V won’t have such customization options, but this is where I’m glad that there is no third person pov. Because my V does wear heels, nail polish and eyeliner and there is nothing anyone can do about it!

[gra-sonas]

Alex Manes - an essay

Alright, my inbox is bursting with asks, and I’ll get to them (tomorrow, it’s almost midnight D: ), but I’ve been thinking about this all day while trying to work (had to get up and angrily pace my flat several times), and I had to write it all down to get it off my chest. (Also, I’m sorry, but once again Tumblr won’t let me add a Read More, after two attempts at creating new posts with a Read More, I’m giving up 🙈)

As viewers, we’ve been introduced to two different versions of Alex.

Alex at 17

wears mostly black

puts on nail polish, eyeliner and jewellery, including a stud earring and a septum piercing

loves skateboarding

plays the guitar

works at the UFO Emporium

his mom, a Native American woman from a New  Mexican tribe left the family when he was younger

has 3 brothers, presumably they’re all older than Alex

Alex at 27/28

a soldier, he’s been in the Air Force for a decade

a decorated purple heart airman with three deployments under his belt

an amputee, he lost part of his right leg in an attack in Iraq, sometimes uses a crutch

a codebreaker who's hacked into Russian and Chinese intelligence

a man who still dips fries into his milkshake

the nail polish, spiky hair, piercings and jewellery are gone

Alex wears fatigues occasionally, his civil clothes are mostly neutral colored shirts/jeans (until The Leather Jacket™ in 1x13)

we don’t know whether he still plays the guitar

his brothers are also all military, Flint (~2 years older than Alex) is a Special Forces Weapons Sergeant with the US Army

Quotes from/about Alex’s youth (incl. Jesse’s abuse)

1x01, Alex: "We're not kids anymore. What I want doesn't matter.“

✧→ 17 year old Alex hoped to escape his father one day, he dreamt of making music. His  hopes were shattered that day in the toolshed, and Alex hasn’t allowed himself to go for what he wants since then - including Michael.

1x02, Alex: “Made me think about... I don't know, who I was when this started. Before I went to war.”

1x05, Kyle: “Do you remember that night your dad made us set up that tent to teach us extreme weather survival?” Alex: “Yeah. Your dad had driven home for the night, so mine concocted a brand-new form of kiddie torture.”

1x05, Alex: “My dad was a homophobic, abusive dick."

1x05: Alex: “The dad I got was a monster. Is a monster.” Kyle: “Because he sent you off to war?” Alex: “My father was my war. And your dad saw it, when we were kids. Do you remember the summer - that we built the tree house?” Kyle: “Yeah.” Alex: “That's the summer that my dad found out I was gay. He knew before I did. He thought he could beat it out of me. Jim tried to intervene. But you can't make someone stop hating someone. And my dad hated me.”

✧→ Alex is talking about his father/childhood matter-of-factly, but the language he’s using to describe his childhood allows a glimpse at the hell he went through: torture (through extreme survival trainings), homophobic abuse, his dad is a monster, sent him to war, for years tried beating the gay out of Alex, Jesse hates him. This is not just a homophobic remark his dad made at the dinner table, this informs us about years of violence and abuse Alex endured at the hands of his father.

1x06, Alex: “Things at my house suck.“

✧→ Many teenagers will probably say this at some point while growing up, this isn’t about Alex being upset about a curfew, or having to do his homework tho. This is as much as Alex will disclose about the ongoing abuse.

1x06: Alex: “Dad, this has nothing to do with you.“ Jesse: “Everything you do... everything. And I will not be humiliated.“

✧→  This is Alex, terrified of what his dad might do. And he knows that Jesse will do something (he’s already picked up the hammer). Alex expects violence, because that’s what his dad has done to him numerous times. 😔

1x07, Mimi: "You look like your dad today." Alex: "Oh, good. I was hoping that the rage face might skip a generation."

1x08, Alex: “I've been looking for leverage my entire life.“

✧→ “My entire life”, a clear indication that having Jesse as a dad’s never been a walk in the park, Alex just got the special ‘anti gay’ treatment as a bonus when he got older.

1x08, Alex: “When I was...- I wanted to make music. You sent me to war.“

✧→ Alex at 17 wanted to make music, and although he never says it, I think it’s implied that he never planned to join the military. Jesse didn’t give him a choice though, he made Alex enlist, probably threatening him with what he’d do to Michael if Alex didn’t do as he was told.

1x08, Alex: "Why are you trying to frame Michael? Haven't you done enough to him?"

1x08, Alex: "Do not talk to me about unprovoked violence!"

1x09, Michael: "And what do you want to say, Alex?” Alex: That I loved you. And I think that you loved me. For a long time.” Michael: “Yeah.” Alex: "But we didn't even know each other that well, did we? I mean, we just, we-we connected, - like something… -“ Michael: “Cosmic.” Alex: "Yeah, but we didn't even do that much talking."

1x10, Alex: "My dad is a bigot with no moral compass."

1x12, Flint (to Alex): "You ever get tired of being the black sheep of the family?"

1x13, Alex: "Look... I shouldn't have left you behind when I enlisted. I could... I could stand here and tell you that I didn't want to leave, but I did. After what my dad did to you, I just, I... I wanted to be the kind of person who won battles. But now I-I look in the mirror, and I-I don't even see myself sometimes. I see my father. I'm still fighting his battles. Not mine."

✧→ It’s kinda implied that Alex never wanted to enlist, but once Jesse forced him to do it, he tried to make the most of it. He wanted to be the kind of person who won battles. He was also looking for leverage, something he could use to take his dad down.

✧→  Alex at 17 wanted to get out, he wanted to make music and live life his way. Since Jesse was going to beat him for being gay anyway, he’d at least wear what he wanted, put on make up, and wear jewellery. Jesse hadn’t manage to break Alex.

✧→ The shed incident changed everything, because someone else got hurt. And from Alex’s POV it was because of Alex. Because he’d been selfish. He’d wanted Michael. And because of that Michael got injured.

Now that we’ve established the basics, onto Carina’s statement.

“Alex was too ashamed of Michael  (not of being gay, which Maria knew, but of michael specifically) to name him to Maria for 10 years - until he saw Maria as a threat.” [x]

✧→ At 17, we saw how much Alex cared about Michael, that he wanted him safe and warm bc nights twere too cold to sleep in the car. That’s why Alex offered Michael to stay in the shed. He liked Michael, and he wanted to spend time with him. He even brought Michael a guitar bc he thought Michael would like to play. None of Alex’s behavior gives any indication that he was ashamed of Michael before the shed incident.

✧→ 17 year old Alex was afraid of his father, no surprise after years of abuse, but he also seemed confident, defiant even, believing he could handle it for a little bit longer until he’d finished high school and would finally be able to leave to make music. Despite living under Jesse’s roof, he dressed in all black, openly wore make up, nail polish, and jewellery/piercings, refusing to be another picture perfect son of his military father. We didn’t see it on screen, but given Jesse’s homophobic views, Alex’s behavior very likely caused his father to punish him in some way for it.

✧→  Then Michael kissed Alex at the UFO Emporium, Alex kissed back, one thing lead to another and they ended up at the shed where they had sex for the first time. It was Michael’s first time with a guy, we don’t know whether it was Alex’s first time tho. Alex still didn’t show any signs of being ashamed of Michael.

They were SO in love and happy in that moment. 🥺

✧→  When Jesse and the hammer happened, and it changed everything. Up until that moment, Alex had been used to his father’s abuse, he’d been strong enough, he’d been convinced he could take it, but this time someone else got badly hurt, and I think that broke something in Alex.

✧→  We never saw how things played out for Alex after Michael left the shed, all we know is that Jesse made Alex enlist. And given Jesse’s preference for blackmailing (he blackmailed Jenna, and Alex asked Flint what Jesse had on him) it’s probably fair to assume that Jesse threatened to go after Michael should Alex not do as he says.

Alex didn’t tell Maria for a decade because he was ashamed of Michael (at 17)?

Say what now???

There are several good reasons why Alex wouldn’t have told her, but shame isn’t one of them... I’m sure Alex thought of Maria as a trustworthy friend back then, but the most important reason why he wouldn’t reveal who ‘museum guy’ was would be the one the straight showrunner of the show’s apparently not aware of:

Alex would’ve outed Michael (without Michael’s consent I’d like to add) to Maria by telling her who it was. As a gay kid in 2008, I’m sure Alex was very well aware of LGBTQ etiquette, and the first rule of queer club is, you don’t out a fellow queer. And guess who’d just experience a brutal attack because he’s queer? Why would Alex ever consider outing Michael and potentially putting him at risk???

The outing reason alone would be enough to explain why Alex never told her who it was. And in 1x10 he didn’t outright out Michael either, Maria realized it was Guerin and Alex reluctantly confirmed (there was no way for him to plausibly deny it).

1x10, Alex: “It is just a standard, run-of-the-mill boy problem. Oh, come on. Don't give me psychic face, Maria.” Maria: “It's the guy from the museum, the one that kissed you into crazy stupid love when we were kids. He's back?” Alex: “Wha... How-how do you do that?” Maria: “You're just... I feel it, you're-you're hopeful, like you were before. Who is he? Come on, spill it. I've been waiting ten years for this. - Come on.” Alex: “You... you wouldn't believe it.” Maria: “It's not like you're hooking up with Wyatt Long or Michael Guerin or something. Geez. Please tell me you're in love with Wyatt Long. Wow.” Alex: “Michael's not so bad after a shower. But you know that.” Maria: “I had no idea...” Alex: “I know. I mean, how would you?” Maria: “It meant nothing, Alex. Seriously, I swear, it was just a drunk, dusty, no-good Texas rounder."

Another reason why Alex wouldn’t necessarily have told Maria: Alex was traumatized by what happened at the shed. This wasn’t just the ‘normal’ kind of abuse he endured on the regular (which is a boatload of trauma all of its own), someone else had been hurt, someone Alex liked, and because Alex liked him. On top of that Jesse likely threatened him. There’s no way Alex wasn’t scared and deeply traumatized. It’s fairly common that victims of abuse don’t tell anyone about it, out of fear even more bad things could happen, there’s surely also a lot of shame and self-blaming involved.

Alex also knew that Michael was homeless, and probably not yet of age. Jesse could’ve threatened Alex to put Michael back into the system or whatnot.

Absolutely NOTHING we’ve seen on screen suggests that Alex was ashamed of Michael when they were 17. Alex joined the military afterwards, and was away for a decade. Not many opportunities to talk about it to Maria, but again, the first reason (outing Michael) is a perfectly valid reason not to tell her for an entire decade. And this being a major trauma, Alex probably didn’t feel like opening that box again after such a long time.

And wow, claiming that Alex waited to tell Maria (which isn’t exactly what happened) because she felt threatened by her? Sure, Alex just waited for the right moment. 🙄

Is Alex ashamed of Michael at 27/28?

In 1x03 it seems like Alex let’s his father’s words get to him. “Seems to me the only one you're embarrassing is yourself, son.“ I’ve always interpreted this as a thinly veiled threat tho, and Alex, on instinct, immediately put distance between himself and Michael. Because before he talked to his father? Alex was perfectly happy to be seen with Michael, if he'd been ashamed, as Carina claims, he wouldn’t have approached Michael in public in the first place.

This is also how I read the scene in 1x02: “What happened at the reunion cannot happen again.“ In the pilot, Jesse had been part of the group of soldiers poking around Michael’s Airstream, and Alex saw the way his father looked at them talking. Then they kissed at the reunion, and I’m sure it felt so good and like coming home, but the fear of what Jesse could do if he found out was back the next morning, and Alex once more tried to put distance between himself and Michael to keep Michael save.

This is not an excuse for Alex pushing Michael away, not an excuse for Alex to call him a criminal either. That is absolutely shitty behavior and not okay. I just don’t buy this ‘Alex is ashamed of Michael’ shtick.

Friendly reminder that Maria did not only tell Alex in 1x10 “It meant nothing, Alex. Seriously, I swear, it was just a drunk, dusty, no-good Texas rounder.", here’s what she said in her next scene with Guerin:

1x10, Maria: “We're closed. - You found my necklace.” Michael: “Clasp broke. I fixed it. I think it calls for a celebration. And by celebration, I mean booze, preferably the free kind.” Maria: “Alex is one of my best friends.” Michael: “Congrats.” Maria: “I never would have slept with you if I knew you two had history. It can't happen again.”

So in 1x10 Maria

learned Michael is 'museum guy’

realized that Alex is in love with Michael (still), and hopeful

swore to Alex it was a one time thing and that it meant nothing

told Michael that Alex is one of her best friends (and you don’t go after your best friends’ love interests)

she would’ve never slept with Michael had she known

she also says it can’t happen again

And yet Carina’s surprised why many few fans don’t understand

what made Maria ignore Liz’s advice to talk to Alex (which would’ve been the fair thing to do, no one’s mad at Maria for catching feelings, it’s that she acted on them without talking to Alex first what upsets and angers people)

why Maria invited Michael to kiss her just 3 episodes later

why she’s still chasing after Michael 2 weeks later without having talked to Alex

she’ll continue to go after Michael but still won’t talk to Alex

and therefore some are having a hard time not to dislike Maria to some degree? Okay...

Either way, imo Alex was definitely not ashamed of Michael at 17, and I don’t see much evidence of him being ashamed of Michael at 27/28.

Apart from that, shame is for sure NOT the reason why Alex never told Maria.

Alright, this got LONG, but it I had to write it all down. I think I provided facts in the form of dialogue quotes. In addition, I’m sharing my interpretation of these facts.

I don’t claim that I’m right, I don’t claim that I know more than Carina (who seems to have forgotten some things she herself wrote tho), none of that. This is my interpretation of what happened, based on what we saw on screen, what’s been said by the characters, and what we know about the different characters involved.

I also don’t claim that Alex didn’t do anything wrong, that he’s a saint, or whatnot. But I strongly disagree with the notion that by not telling Maria Alex is somehow to blame for her going after Michael.

[bookenders]

Hey!! So, I was wondering: do you think your interest in linguistics has an impact on the way you read/write fiction? (Assuming yes, could you tell us a bit about how?)

I have been waiting to rant about this for forever, thank you for asking, you psychic wonder, you.

ABSO-FREAKIN’-LUTELY.

Story time!

[Buckle up, folks, it’s a windy road.]

I have always been a huge nerd for languages and words. In college, I took a forensic linguistics class on a whim because I needed a credit, and I fell in love. That semester, all of my papers turned into linguistic analyses of literary texts (including my steamy lesbian poetry paper, my personal favorite of the bunch). I dug into the teeny tiny details and proved that they matter, and that writers totally pay attention to them and use all kinds of tricks to point your brain in the direction they want. And it also bled into my fiction writing. Like, a lot.

I was in the honors college at my university and they have a graduation requirement that acts as a mock graduate thesis (you might’ve heard me talk about my thesis elsewhere, because I love it so much). Mine was a short story collection. One of those stories was heavily influenced by my linguistics knowledge. It was about language and how your whole world changes when you have to learn a new one (Romania to USA, 1989, revolutions, etc.). I touched on Russian, Japanese, Polish, some other languages, and the process of language acquisition in relation to becoming a new person in a new country.

Outside of those specific instances, after learning more and more about linguistics, character voices are a whole lot easier! I spent a lot of time learning how to notice how different people write in different registers (like academic papers vs texts vs tumblr posts vs work emails). Hell, my final project for that Forensics class was about witness collusion in police statements - I had a bunch of my friends make anonymous statements and then guessed who wrote what. 

When I wrote my story with 4 different first person narrators on the same page, I paid attention to their lexical (or unique) words, their sentence structures, how their accents affect the rhythm of their speech, and all that fun stuff. And BAM, suddenly I have 4 unique people talking at once and I can tell who’s who! Magic!

In general, writing is a lot more interesting, because I love puzzles and now that I know how to use more pieces, I can play with them even more than before. I find that I pay a lot more attention to individual word choice, especially when changing POVs. I pay more attention to personal dialects and regional words. I learned the structures of lies and false testimonies, how to imitate writing styles, how to detect plagiarism, and a bunch of other supervillain stuff.

As for reading?

It’s made it easier for me to know exactly what other writers are doing with their language. “Oh, they’re putting those clauses there instead of here which does X to the Y of the story,” etc. It’s also made me a much better editor: I can more easily identify subtle patterns in writing, I’m a lot more flexible with “proper grammar” (which is a myth btw), and I’m more sensitive to writers’ individual voices versus their characters’. 

Please let me know if you want me to be more specific about anything I may have glossed over! Or if you want examples of anything! As you can see, I love talking about this. (This goes for everyone reading my rant!)

[lentaska]

Deep Water - Part 3

A/N: Featuring Sami Callihan. WWII setting, OFC, third-person POV. Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from wrestling, I do not claim any ownership over them. Any resemblance to real-life historical events, organizations, locales and countries/union is entirely coincidental.

Tagging people who gave likes to my work: @thecristsandcallihanmadness @monstersmaid @cherryfinolahobbes @i-ship-it-okay @ohcristimhookedonhavocimsodunne @amariemoore @jonmoxley4ever @morie-leigh Thank you for your support (please let me know if tagging is not ok for you)

When Anka woke up, Sami already set up campfire to keep them warm. Anka moved closer to the fire but kept some distance, since she could only feel its warm. Her world was pure dark, but somehow she thought she could see very dim light spot quivering.

“I found some food in a hidden cabinet.” said Sami, sitting down beside her. She heard him opened up a tin and sighed, “well, canned mushrooms are ok...”

“I used to pick mushrooms with my mom. Lublin (Note 1) has large area of forest.” Anka took one bite of the canned food, it was salty and sour but still better than nothing.

Sami took away the awful-tasted mushrooms and handed her another tin, “eat this.”

It was canned meat. She ate some and gave back to Sami.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think it’s unfair to you because you found it.”

“Your condition is worse, plus I have more.” he took a quick look on the rest food he found, which were just canned beans and dry cheese. “I’ll go to find a container so we can make soup...”

Anka tried to reach to him but was drew into a warm embrace that she didn’t expect for. The more surprising to her was the fact of how familiar she had become with his contact. She remembered the intimacy between them when he led her hands to feel his appearance last night, and it gave her shiver from cheerfulness, but she didn’t want to assert the reason of his behavior.

On the contrary to her emotional struggle, Sami was more open to how he felt towards Anka. Her existence had become an important part to him, because not only she was a companion that kept him away from loneliness, but also the merits she showed. The more time they spent, the closer he wanted to approach to her.

“Your hands are cold.” Sami frowned.

His breath swept her neck, the tickles made her step back and it confused him. “Are you alright?” he asked, worried. She was not fully recovered from what the war had done to her, the fear of losing her reminded him how much he cared yet how helpless he was.

The girl nodded, “I’m fine...”

A faint noise emitted from outside alarmed her. She lowered her voice, “I heard something.”

“It could be just wind.” Sami comforted her but couldn’t help feeling unease growing. He grabbed weapon, enjoined her, “stay here.”

The training in army allowed Sami to move almost soundlessly. He left their temporary lodging and found a hiding spot, then took a good observation of the environment around to make sure there was no track of another person. He walked further into woods to enlarge the searching range. The woods surrounded him were quite, he could even hear the light footsteps left by a running squirrel, but that was all he had. Let out a relieved breath, he decided to return, but something by his foot caught the attention.

It was a piece of fabric from uniform.

Sami picked it up. This could be left from one of the soldiers who searched the abandoned house long time ago, but it looked comparatively new. He had bad feeling. To risk his and Anka’ lives by staying longer was not wise, even though his evidence might be unnecessary and he catastrophized the situation, it’s time to leave.

With his mind made up, Sami immediately returned. When he was at the front door of the house, he heard a man’s voice angrily speaking foreign language.

The perturbation froze him. Despite being panic, he sneaked in quietly. In the living room - where they stayed, a young man in USSR uniform was gripping Anka’s hair in ruthless way. The soldier shouted something in Russian, Anka responded with silence, which infuriated him. In the next moment, the girl received one slap on face.

Wrath rose up in Sami like wild fire. He jumped on the man with fierce hit right on head by gun stock. To avoid attention could be drew by gunshot, Sami strangled the man who was in semicoma and bleeding, until he was motionless.

For a long time, neither of them spoke one word, until Anka’s question broke the ambience, “is he dead?”

“Yes.” Sami covered the body with sundries. “I lost control when I saw him hurt you... Did my doing scare you?”

Anka shook her head, “No, you saved my life again and I’m grateful.”

“I promised to stay with you and I always keep my promise. What did that bastard say?”

“He saw you went out and recognized your nationality, by your uniform I think. He interrogated me about who you are and why we’re together.” Anka paused and took a deep breath, “he said, disobedient Polish were executed, they are enemy of Soviet Union.”

Despair fell upon them like black veil.

“Does establishing union make killing people correct?” asked Anka in husky voice.

“No it does not. War is the most disgusting thing.”

“Then why are we left to die?”

“I don’t know the answer for that question, but listen, I’ll do whatever I can to keep you alive.”

His words brought up the perplexity Anka had craved an answer for, “is it... because you pity me?”

“It’s not fucking pity.” he sounded anxious. Although it’s not possible to see his facial expression, Anka still could tell how frustrated he was based on his voice. She sometimes wondered if being blind was really a bad thing, since her auditory sense became keen, and it was one self-deceiving excuse for her to “unsee” how malicious the war changed the human to. But suddenly she realized how much she wanted to see what Sami was like.

Slowly, the black-haired soldier pressed himself closer to her, measuring how intimate the relationship that she would be fine with. It was a cunning move, but he did not intend to take advantage when she’s in misery, he wanted to be the one on whom she could depend.

Sensed the change of distance between them, Anka was surprised but didn’t step back, Sami took it as acceptance. The slim Polish girl said, “when you found me, you said leaving me to die was waste of my voice.”

“That was my first thought. But it didn’t take me long to learn how much I like you.”

“I don’t understand...” In the next moment, she felt his hand touched her cheek, the rough texture rubbed against her skin, left transitory warmth behind.

“If I ever tell my friends that I fall for a Polish in war within one day, they will think it’s a joke ‘cause this war pretty much fucked up everyone’s life.” Sami chuckled in self-mocking way, “you’re gonna think I’m weird, aren’t you?”

But she shook her head.

No more hiding, no more hesitation and confusion, Anka stretched out hands and touched Sami’s face, this time, she took more time to feel his facial features. “You are not weird, for reason that I feel same.” she said.

Nuzzled her ear, Sami whispered, “I love you.”

Yet the war hadn’t shown its most merciless side to love.

Note 1: Lublin, the Polish city where Anka and Sami were. It was taken by Soviet Army in 1944, a puppet government was established in the same year.

[pendragonfics]

The Tests of Time

Paring: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Tags: gender neutral reader, POV reader, reader is a mutant, and also a secret agent with S.H.I.E.L.D., slow build, storytelling, radio communication, compliant with Captain America: The Winter Soldier, featuring Winder Soldier too, Bucky has issues, a few words in some languages (Russian, Polish), set both before and after Captain America: Civil War, heavy angst, fluff. 

Summary:  Maybe it was because you were the only one who had connected the dots - who had figured out that the angry angel and the flighty one-handed man were the same person.

Word Count: 3,975

Posting Date:  2017-04-24

Current Date: 2017-06-16

You were a second-generation immigrant, but that didn't stop those cruel words. Even if you were American, there was just something about you - perhaps it was the appearance, or that name of yours, or even what you brought to eat for lunch in your Tupperware - which made those nasty comments and grubby handed people treat you like you were a second-class citizen. Just because you spoke another language at home behind the closed doors of the apartment. Just because your blood came from the cold and the snow and had a deep history of being wrapped in things greater than itself.

There was a sort of story, a folk tale that your grandmother had told your mother, and a story that your mother had, and she'd told you both accounts as a child. It was fantastical, phantasmagorical for bloodlines to have a story that was passed on, and this one was no different.

There was the narrative of Grandmother Svetlana, who on the way to return from town selling coal in the colds of the Polish winter, had been lost in a snow drift too far from the house for a search party to have found her.

She would have died there, but her stories told of a man, with wild eyes, the only words she had shared were her thanks, and his curt Russian accent calling her a 'zgubione kaczątko '. Lost duckling. He had been walking by, wearing one of the military coats she had seen on Russian soldiers by the boarder, and had shed it to share once he had taken her from the snow.

That coat was the only reminder of that day - a remnant of a sort of fairy-tale. Grandmother Svetlana's story was of a man who had saved her life; she would always talk of him as if he was an angry angel, who had delivered her to her doorstep from the grasps of the old Gods, who had disappeared before her father had answered the door. The memory of the angry angelic man stayed with her, even when she began to lose her mind following the death of your dear Grandfather.

Your mother's story was different. She was not being protected by someone in her account, but rather, protecting.

She'd just uprooted her mother and father from living in Pennsylvania, to move to a little place in the East of Minnesota, in a more manageable property for her ageing parents, and, to find a place where she could raise the child she was carrying with a stable living. Not a soul knew of the father, of who he was and did and did to her, and she kept it that way. It was a long drive over, and wanting to take it in two days, Marcia _______ had stopped at a cheap motel overnight, had settled in her ageing parents to sleep, and took a little walk through a corn field.

Not in her greatest imagination had she thought to come across a wounded man. Eyes marked with bruises and black dust, they were staring deep into her soul, the shade of blood mottling his paling skin, a silver space-age hand, dark blood soaking the black clothes he wore.

Your mother said of him uttering in a mixture of Russian, French, Czech, Polish - and only because of your mother's heritage, she knew what he was speaking of, what he needed. Luckily again, your mother was a nurse, and before too long, he was cleaned up.

The man had noticed her abdomen protruding through her shirt, and had commented, his words rusty from years of disuse, "You are with a child. You help me, when I could hurt you ... why?"

As a kid, you'd always found that part fascinating. Perhaps it was because it was you he was talking about, or maybe because your mother was such a trusting and compassionate woman and would defend those who could not defend themselves with her strength and every breath she had in her body.

Apparently, she'd just replied something along the lines of being a good person, and had given him a sandwich she'd had tucked in her jacket. She took him to the motel, and buying out another room, gave him a bed for the night. Her story ended there, as the next morning, the bed was bare, with no signs that a soul had been there except the military-like made bed, and a do not disturb sign crushed by a firm grip.

It was those stories you grew up on - while the kids your age played with fashion toys and watched Spongebob Square-Pants, you had a cloth doll who wore a thick jacket, and had a silver hand and a mask of black dust covering his eyes. Even though you were eight, your drawings would be full of the mysterious man who had graced both the matriarchs of your family's lives. Maybe it was because you were the only one who had connected the dots - who had figured out that the angry angel and the flighty one-handed man were the same person.

 ---

But that was all in the past. Therapists called it a phase, and some people thought it to be an obsession, or a really messed up idea of idealising something that happened years and years ago. Heck, even a fortune teller your grandmother knew thought you were odd, but perhaps it was because four years later you found yourself locked in a secure area for super powered people. You know, slightly-more-serious-than-personality-odd kind of odd. It was then your mother visited you in the S. H. I. E. L. D. facility, and confessed that your father had been a delinquent metal-manipulating mutant, and she had run off with you to keep you safe from him.

It was the heartfelt heart-to-heart that swayed, S. H. I. E. L. D., and they decided to train you up, and take you on as a young apprentice, becoming a part of a response team for super-powered people like you. After all, you were the tough one - with an indestructible body that, from many simulations, had withstood the force of skyscrapers falling onto you.

And that, apparently, gave you the authority to lead. And leading - that was something you did very well.

It was a Sunday, and with not many stores open around the area, you found yourself and your response team in the quinjet, waiting around on the outskirts of Washington D. C., chilling near the Patuxent River. Your team was a mis-match of Coulson's on a good day, filled with the people who had nowhere to go, and nothing to do better than standing up for the little guys, and giving them a fresh start. A few people were mutants like you, a few ... not so much. Just last week you took in three teens from an accident and give them a place to live and not go mad with their new abilities. Work perks.

But now, you were just sitting. Lounging. Waiting. But it was then your radio was patched into - only S. H. I. E. L. D. personnel knew the code - and you were, to your surprise, on the receiving end of the iconic voice of Steve Rogers, the Captain America.

"Agent, ______, come in, Agent ______, 4-10?" his all-American voice crackled over the static connection.

Instantly, you felt your limbs at odds, reaching as fast as you could for the radio. "10-4, Agent _______ speaking. Is this Captain Rogers?" You ask, and before he can respond, you add, "We're at radio silence, nobody is coming in on our outward calls. What is going on?"

You hear a dark laugh at his end, but instead of his voice replying, you hear another legendary superstar of the workplace, Natasha Romanov. "Agent ______, an enemy named HYDRA has infiltrated S. H. I. E. L. D. 10-33, the Winter Soldier has risen from the dead, and is currently attacking the base in Washington D. C. Roger."

Without hesitation, you speak up, "10-200, Rogers, Romanov?" you ask, and clicking the connection off, you call your team together, and make organisations to drop the camouflage, raise the shields and make way to the location that was only a quick ride into the city.

"S. H. I. E. L. D. HQ, Agent _______." Romanov replied. "We're counting on your unit. Make contact on arrival. 4-10?"

You nod, radioing back in. "10-4. Over and out, Captain Rogers, Agent Romanov."

---

The ride in was quick, but what was even faster was the melee before you. The Helecarriers you were supposed to be assigned to almost a week ago were falling from the sky, or in the process of it. You could see where one was coming down, falling into the water before the headquarters. But if your eyes were wrong - and they were rarely wrong - you were watching a man in all black dragging the good captain Rogers from the depths of the lake.

"Report to Agent Romanov immediately," you delegate, turning to your team. "It's a long shot, me trusting you, because even if you are sleeping HYDRA agents, we've had a good run. Don't go shooting each other." You give them a sly smirk, "Don't want to blow this shit-show higher than it is already."

At that, you left your team to their devices, tracking the footsteps of where the Winter Soldier himself stood. You had a relatively normal childhood beside the obsession with the guy from your mother's and grandmother's stories, and tracking full grown men in the woods was not a big hobby of yours. But, it seemed fruitful - as in the clearing, stood HYDRA's weapon of mass destruction, the man himself.

But it's then it hits you, and you realise.

The man with a silver space age hand who wore all black and covered his face in black dust, he was no myth. Your family had met him. Just like Natasha Romanov had told you of the Winter Soldier, the guy who had shot through her body on a mission years back. Because both people were real, and they were the man standing before you.

"Отойди!" He growled. Back off.

Putting two hands up, you cursed yourself for wearing the standard outfit for S. H. I. E. L. D. agents, surrendering to the man who was reaching for a weapon that he didn't have at his waist. Like your mother, and her mother, you had never left your roots, and dabbled in bits and pieces of Slavic languages, and knew what he was getting across.

"Я здесь не для того, чтобы причинить тебе боль," you cry out, your hands raised high and your boots being quaked in. I'm not here to hurt you. Even though you can't get injured, thanks to your mutant gene, any blow he lands on you will probably hurt like hell, and you're sure that you're scared. Heart racing as he walks toward you, you panic. "You know me - Ты знаешь меня!"

He stops still.

"I was not born, and you met a woman who looked a little like me, oh my god, you probably don't remember - uh, years and years ago. She cleaned your wounds and gave you a bed to rest, ah...Я не родился, а ты -,"

"-the Nurse," he whispered. His eyes were sad, and lost. "She gave me a Бутерброд. My mind is full of sludge, I can't remember much, but - the lost duckling, who looked like you as well ... and the man on the bridge, I knew him too, and he knew me..." He breathes. "Why can't I remember?"

Slowly, you lower your hands. "You mean Captain America, uh, Steve Rogers?" you ask him. "I know people who can help, we can help you remember. I work with Steve Rogers," it wasn't technically a lie, since you were both linked through the S. H. I. E. L. D. workplace. "My name is ________," you reach a hand to him, but the spell is broken.

"Нет!" No! He cries, taking a step back. "Не трогайте меня, я раняю все, что я касаюсь!" Do not touch me, I hurt everything that I touch!

You can't help but laugh at that, albeit lightly not to spook the Winter Soldier. "Nothing can hurt me, Енот." You grin. Raccoon. "You have a name, that you know? Or am I just going to call you piękny chłopak?" Beautiful boy.

He shakes his head. "The man on the bridge ... he called me Bucky." He sighed, wiping a hand over his face. "Дерьмо." shit. "How do I know I can really trust you, though, little _________?" He asks.

You were a second-generation immigrant, and even if you were American, there was just something about you - which made people often ask you that question. Perhaps it was the appearance, or that name of yours, or even what you brought to eat for lunch. You take a step toward Bucky, reaching a hand out to his once more.

"My mother raised me on stories of you, nice stories where you did no harm to my blood relatives, Баки - Bucky, you can trust me because I am not the men who did this to you. I'm American born. I'm from a line of survivors, Bucky." Your hand touches his, and feeling the cool skin on his hand, you wrap your fingers around his palm, between his fingers. "I want to see if I can rub my luck off on you. Позволь мне спасти тебя." You plead.

Let me save you.

He nods, slowly, eyes grazing behind you to see if anyone had followed you. But there was not a soul there, and you did not expect him to agree.

"Do you have a safe house?" He asks, those eyes of his fluttering around like fireflies in mid night. And just because your blood came from the cold and the snow and had a deep history of being wrapped in things greater than itself, you nodded. "Take me."

---

In the safe house you stayed with him, until he decided that he had enough of U.S.A., and together, you arranged with contacts you knew from working on the field for a place to live in Romania. It took time, like everything does, to get settled, to help him wind down from all the drugs and the training, but without it, he was cold turkey, sometimes better off with them at small dosages than without. Some nights, you would be by his side, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a rag after his nightmares, other nights, locking yourself in the closet to get away from the thrashing and crashing that followed the outbursts of the soldier with no general.

But you’d read up on him – after all, after you’d gone AWOL, S. H. I. E. L. D. did all it could to have you taken care of remotely. Your mission wasn’t like any other you’d been on, what, with extraction of mutants and people in the field, but something a little closer to home: you were his career. If you weren’t there making sure that James Buchannan “Bucky” Barnes was taking care of himself, HYDRA could come in and swoop him off to being a machine again.

Unluckily for you, you were doing something that was much closer to home than ever: falling in love. While Bucky took his time, slowly filling a backpack up with memories and fragments of moments in notebooks, you couldn’t help but fall deeper and deeper for the man who you watched heal before you for years after the Washington incident. You both looked nothing like you did back then – you’d let your hair grow out, and he had taken to facial stubble, and tying his hair back with your headbands.

But came the day when the safe house was invaded, by Captain America, no less, and all three of you were running for your lives because who would know, by being a good guy and not leasing yourself off to become a service to government agencies (from your experience, often swayed by the likes of HYDRA) you were then a bad guy, and were running off.

But somehow, you were split up, and you’d lost the Star-Spangled Man, and your Bucky. You were left with the choice of running back into the fire (literal machine-gun fire) to be with the super soldiers, or, to just keep running. You were halfway across the country by the time the Director of S. H. I. E. L. D. found you, and halfway out of your comfort zone when you heard that everyone who had sided with Steve Rogers had been locked up in a secure facility for their ‘crimes’. But after your medical check-up, and a debriefing, you were given the keys to one of the bunks aboard the Helecarrier.

For the next four hours until touchdown, you cried, not only thinking of how you’d screwed up what mission they’d assigned to you after you had latched onto James Buchanan Barnes, but how you’d left him just like that in Romania, and that this was it. Just like the generations before you who had a moment with him in which that was passed down to the next person, this was your story. That you fell for the guy, brought him out of that dark place in his head … but left him in the instant the fire was reigning.

Thank goodness that the bunks were sound-proofed.

---

It’s three months later and you’re still without a new mission, just spending all your time in the S. H. I. E. L. D. facility that you started all this super-powered journey on. Every once in a while, an Avenger would pop on in, and say hello to the personnel in the area, do their job and such. If they saw you, they didn’t see Agent ______, like they would have before the incident, no, they just saw the mutant who had lived with the freaking Winter Soldier, man! for a year, or give you a sad sort of side-eye if you were in the same room. But you didn’t live with the Winter Soldier. You’d lived with Bucky.

The Winter Soldier was HYRDA’s creation. Bucky Barnes was not, and would never be.

Bucky, he liked to eat ice-cream, but didn’t like caramel. Plums were his favourite fruit, but if they weren’t in season, he’d be okay with grapes, or mango. He’d dream of 1942 too often, waking up to be disappointed to be stuck in a boarded up flat on a continent he wasn’t born on. He liked rock music, though, how you’d dance to it, and you’d get him from the table, and dancing along to The Clash or whatever was on the radio. He liked to shower with the door locked, and would often leave his towel out, and you’d have to trade it through the barely-open door to him. He liked to watch you as you read a foreign book in the moonlight, trying to understand another language, and how he’d end up teaching you bits and pieces of new words.

It was a Sunday when you were organising your room. You’d seemed to have gathered a collection of books, all replacements of the ones you’d left in the safe house in Romania, but they were all over the place, and so was the bed, and the closet – ugh, you didn’t even want to think about that mess. But with the door open, you were pumping the original recording of Should I Stay or Should I Go, and with your hair tied up, you delved into the housework.

But not a minute after the song began, there was a knock at your door.

“Daisy, if you’ve got a problem with The Clash, you know where you can shove it,” you shouted above the punk band’s guitar riff, but turning, you didn’t see Daisy Johnson, fellow agent, but the form of the guy who haunted your dreams, with his getting-too-long hair, and the eyes that knew your freaking soul and that silver prosthesis that you’d held when dancing with him back in Romania. “Bucky?”

A smile grew on his face. “________.”

Immediately, you turn to music off, and whatever was in your hands they were dropped, and rushing toward him, you wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him tight, inhaling the scent that was completely Bucky. “Oh my gosh, I had no idea if you made it out, there were no reports on you … I – I was so worried about you!” you cry out, your head pressed against his chest. You weren’t sure if there were tears coming from your eyes, or if there was just a little precipitation, but you couldn’t help it. “Wait, your arm, it isn’t the same –,”

He nods, stepping back from your embrace. “I lost it in the fight with Stark, and then King T’Challa of Wakanda built another one for me. It’s not heavy, it – it almost feels like a real arm. Except, it’s silver,” he jokes. Your hand glides over the metal, seeing the way it’s plated, how it works.

“Remind me to send the King of Wakanda a thank you note,” you muse. You meet Bucky’s gaze, and hurriedly, you add, “I mean,” you drop your hand from touching his arm, “It’s nice. Looks good. How are you, Bucky?”

There’s a pause. Then, “It’s not the same without you.” His eyes follow the room behind you, taking in the half-cleaned mess of a sleeping area you’re calling home as of now. “Wait, is that – that’s the book we were reading before they framed me, right there,” he points to the shelf across from the bed where the book with the green cover is lying down. “Don’t tell me you gave up and bough the English edition.”

You shake your head. “Nope, it’s in Romanian.” You grin.

Bucky beams. “I’m between jobs, what, with the Avengers on suspension, and, ah, if you’re not too busy, maybe we can read it together sometime? I –,”

“I’m between missions,” you interrupt, almost incredulous from the parallels. “I’m free now, if you are.”

---

It’s three years later, and you’ve been cleared for the Avengers Initiative, and so has Bucky, and you’re both living in the facility in upstate New York like two homeless people with superpowers beyond their wants and needs. You’re often tempted to finally make some sort of contact with your father, but after meeting the Maximoff twins, and realising who their father was, you just gave up. Erik Lehnsherr could just go to hell. You’re also often tempted to dig deeper into your history despite knowing your maternal side’s ongoing meetings with Bucky Barnes throughout the ages, but you don’t.

Somethings are left better buried.

In the Avengers facility, it’s quiet in the afternoons when nobody has anything on. There are birds, and the trees turn colours in the seasons and the chitter of chatter and friendly banter from the warriors who assemble to protect the world flows out through the open glass doors, the open plan living area something from the dreams of middle class citizens, or just those who are like Mr. Tony Stark, and built it all himself.

You’re sitting beside Bucky, a glass of orange juice in one hand, his in the other. The sun is warming your back, your head upon his shoulder, and surrounded by friends, this moment if almost a nirvana. You’ve been to hell and back with James Buchanan Barnes, sure, but the hell-scape of the cold and snow that your blood had been born from, and his turned into had ended. Sure, you were a second-generation immigrant, and he was a guy torn from his home to become something he was not, but you had made it through the fire. The tests of time.

[nightinsea]

1, 20, 3. xx

Thank you for sending those in!!! (Cool Asks for Fic Writers)

1. Describe yourself how you would describe a character you’re introducing.

I’m gonna to this from another persons POV view cause I feel weird to go: “ I, I , I” So ya. I thought I would hate answering this one but I actually kinda liked it. Everyone should do this. And yes I actually do wear a lot of copper and camel and the such but I promise that I wear other colors too.

‘He walked into her room. It was messy, always so messy. He spotted an empty coffee cup on her nightstand, a towel lazily thrown onto her bed and the clothing chair. He hated the damn clothing chair but she claimed that there was a system behind it ‘It’s the clothes that are too dirty for the wardrobe but too clean to be washed.’ He looked at the walls, posters from art shows, postcards from friends and old photos with her family. He looked at a photo, the way she had looked like when they had first met and he briefly wondered what ever had made her think that purple eyeliner was a good idea. And there she was, the circles under eyes darker than he had seen them in a while but she looked happier than the last time he had seen her. She was wearing one of her usual outfits. She really only had two looks he realized. She would either wear all dark or, like today, all copper, bronze and camel. He looked at her, her hair, her eyeshadow, her lipstick, her nail polish and her dress were all very similar shades, almost making her look completely monochromatic if it wouldn’t have been for the green eyes looking back at him.’

3. What is your absolute favorite kind of fic to write?

Already answered but I will add that I love to write interesting dynamics? I wrote a scene a couple of weeks back that focuses on the whole ‘I love you a lot and I know you love me too but right now we’re not right for each other’ kinda thing and that was SO fascinating to write.

20. 4 sentences from your work that you’re proud of

already answered but I’ll put a bonus paragraph lol

“And they listened to Katya’s favorite song on repeat -some Russian folk meets pop kind of thing- that was nothing like anything Violet had ever heard before. And it was playing in her head all night long and Violet was falling in love with her favorite song.

And with her.” (My loneliness is killing you, Pt.4)

[tbhstudying]

y’all i understand some people don’t like being called “jap” or “pole” but personally my friends and i call each other that kind of stuff all the time. my friend’s half japanese & i’m polish, czech, russian, the like. dunno where you’re from but in a lot of places the rudeness of the word is what makes it comical. the friend probably just didn’t think you’d be offended by it & it’s actually reasonable for them to argue their pov. please let people make mistakes and have their own way of life.

i wholeheartedly disagree.

first off, the anon was clearly offended by the usage of the word and frankly, a friend should at least try to understand how or why they offended another friend, especially if that friend is trying to explain why. 

also, forgive me if i’m wrong, but is pole a racial / ethnic slur? i tried googling it and a few sites said that “p*ll*ck” and “p*l*k” were. however, i don’t think that “pole” is a racial slur (and if it is, i am ashamed of my textbooks that use that word to refer to polish people) please do correct me if i’m wrong on that.

again, if i’m wrong, i sincerely apologize, but the word “j*p” is entirely different because it clearly has negative connotations surrounding it. it was a word used to dehumanize japanese people during wwii. it was used in insults and propaganda and was especially used when referring to the japanese internment camps. hell, it’s still used today. when you use it, you are essentially using a word that represents an aspect of anti-asian racism. even the japanese embassy in london protested against it. it’s not even the only word used to abbreviate the word “japanese” since “jp” and “jpn” are commonly used and are better options to use as well.

you would not use the n word or “ch*nk” or “g**k” or “ch*ng ch*ng” to refer to a person. why? because they are slurs. the same goes for the word “j*p” as well. “the rudeness of the word” and the “comical” aspect of is essentially racism. 

yes, people make mistakes. however, people should also acknowledge that they made a mistake and take steps in order to prevent making the mistake again, especially when the offended person is trying to explain to them why.

[thewidowsghost]

Fox - Chapter 6

Previously on Fox:

(Y/n) stands up and stands beside Sam as the men lead the twins away, both of them sending fleeting looks at (Y/n) over their shoulder as they leave.

Sam wraps an arm around (Y/n)'s shoulder and leads her towards a jet to take her back to the United States.

(Y/n)'s POV

The next half a year of my four year tour goes by quickly. I decided to leave the Air Force after one tour so I could go home and see Dad.

I pull out my phone and call Pepper. "(Y/n)!" Pepper says happily into the phone. "Are you alright?" she then asks, sounding worried.

"Yeah, I'm alright," I answer. "My last day is Saturday, I was wanting to surprise my dad. Could you pick me up from the airport?" I ask.

"Sure!" she says. "It'll be really nice to see you again, we missed you," Pepper adds.

"It'll be nice to see you guys too," I say and I see Sam walking towards me. "I'll talk to you later Pepper. Love you guys," I say, "Don't tell Dad that I'm coming home, alright?" I ask and she laughs.

"I won't," she says. "Love you, (Y/n)! Bye!"

"Bye!" I end the call and look up at Sam. "Hey Sammy," I say, smiling.

"There's two people here to see you," Sam says, his voice deep like usual. "They're with Ryan," he says.

"Right, thanks Sammy," I say, then running towards Ryan's office.

"Good afternoon sir," I say, walking into Ryan's office, taking off my service dress garrison cap - I had joined the Air Force as an officer since I had been to collage before I had joined up.

"Hello, Miss Stark," A deep voice comes from beside me and I look over, nodding respectfully to the two men standing against the wall. One was an African American man, he had one brown eye, but the other was covered by an eye patch. The other man was a dirty blond with blue eyes who looks like he's about two or three years older than me. "We heard about what happened in Sokovia," the African American man says.

I looks down at my polished black shoes at the man's words. "I couldn't have prevented that first shell, sir," I say, looking back up and staring at the man's eyes - or eye and eye-patch.

"That's not what I'm talking about," Eye-patch Man says. He walks over, "My name is Nicholas J. Fury, and I have a proposition for you," Nick Fury says.

"And what might that be, sir?" I ask.

"I am here with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division," Fury says.

"Man, you guys need an acronym," I mutter under my breath.

"What we meant about Sokovia is your abilities," The blond man says, walking forward. "The name's Clint Barton," Barton says.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Barton, Mr. Fury," I say. "But could you please explain further why you are here?" I ask politely.

"We're here to offer you a job," Mr. Fury says, "And call me Fury, everyone does."

"What would this job entitle?" I ask looking between Fury and Barton.

Fury gestures to Barton to speak.

"We are a secret organization," Barton says. "We hunt down people who are a threat to humanity and take care of them in any means necessary." Barton says.

"Captain," Fury says, addressing me - I am retiring from the Air Force at my final rank as a Captain. "If you take this job, you will automatically be considered a Level 7 Agent and work alongside me and Barton here to help eliminate threats across the world."

"So, you're telling me that if I take this job," I begin, "I'll be going into a job that entitles exactly what I retired from the Air Force doing?" I ask, and Fury and Barton exchange a glance with Ryan. I walk forward, stopping in front of Fury and extending out my hand. "I'll take it," I say and Barton smiles softly.

"Good to be in business with you Captain," Fury says, shaking my hand.

"Call me (Y/n)," I say and Barton smiles.

I now turn to Barton and stop forward to shake hands with Barton. "Nice to be working with you, Barton," the two of us shake hands.

"Call me Clint," he tells me and I smile.

"Stark," I turn around and look to Ryan. "You have permission to leave now instead of Saturday." he says and I nod. He then stands up and walks around the desk. "I'm gonna miss having you around, kid," he says, embracing me in a warm hug.

"I'm going to miss being around," I say, the two of us breaking from the hug. "I'll keep in touch, need anything, give me a call. See you around," I say, walking out of the office, Clint running after me.

"Need help packing your stuff, new partner?" he asks.

"Know what? Why not," I say shrugging, and I lead him to my dorm on the opposite side of the base. It was more of a house than a dorm. After Sokovia, Ryan decided that I should have a more private area to collect my thoughts. "What are you waiting for?" I tease Clint, holding the door open.

Laughing, he walks in, me following and I close the door.

"Dude, you've got a lot of stuff in here," Clint says looking around.

"Perks of being a Captain," I say, laughing, walking into my bedroom.

Pulling out the suitcase my Dad had helped me pack four years ago, I begin to fold all of my clothes. "Clint, please stay out there for a minute, I'm going to change out of this uniform."

"Okay," Clint calls back, and I close the door. I walk over to my closet and pull out a pair of black jeans, a dark blue t-shirt, and dark blue leather jacket. I change real quick and open the door.

"You're good now," I say and Clint walks into the room.

"So, where are you from?" he asks as I fold up all my clothes and begin to put them in the suitcase.

"Malibu," I say, and I look up to see him leaning against the wall. "Dude, you're making me uncomfortable just standing there. Do you not see that chair?" I tease.

"Are you like this all the time?" Clint teases back. "I might need to ask Director Fury for a new partner."

"Would that partner be able to do this?" I ask, stepping back and lighting my hand on fire. "Or this?" I continue, using my shape shifting ability to transform into a fox. "I don't think so," I say once I am human again.

"That's so cool," Clint says. "What else can you turn into?" asks Clint, "A hawk?" He asks, and I shift into a hawk. "A cat?" I shift into a Russian Blue cat. "A lion?" I shift from the cat to a lion. "So basically anything?" he asks.

I shift back to me. "I can also do people," I say. "I do have to see them first before I can shift into another person."

"Can you do me?" Clint asks, looking interested.

Closing my eyes, I focus for a moment and when I open them, I see Clint looking shocked, he is staring at himself. "You asked," I say, shifting back into myself.

"What other things abilities do you have?" Clint asks as I continue to fold and put the rest of my clothes into the suitcase. "I can control most nature related things, wind, water, fire, earth, and lighting based powers. Each of the others stem to other things. Water also connects to ice, so I do have abilities over ice and snow. The other elements also have, lets says, branches -" I stop, looking over at Clint. "Sorry," I say sheepishly.

"Nah, it's fine," Clint says smiling. "I like people who are passionate about what they do. Go on," he says.

"Sure?" I ask and he nods. "The other elements have branches as well. Fire connects to lava, so, in theory, I would be able to summon lava. Earth is strong, like a rock," I add, letting out a snort of laughter. "Sorry, that was bad," I continue. "Earth is strong, so from that I have super strength. Lightning creates storms, as well as other large amounts of energy. Wind, pretty powerful on it's own, but does have it's limits. With enough concentration, I would be able to summon a tornado, or, with the help of water, I would be able to create a hurricane." In explaining all of this to Clint, I had finished packing up all my clothes and I had closed and zipped up the suitcase.

"So," I clear my throat. "Want something to drink?" I ask picking up my suitcase and carrying it out and throwing it carelessly onto the couch. "I've got water, Gatorade, Coke?"

"Gatorade's fine," Clint says, and I toss him a bottle.

"So, what's your life like?" I ask, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Granola bar?" I ask, and Clint nods and I toss him one.

"I'd rather show you then tell," Clint says and I nod.

"Completely understand," I tell the blond and he nods in thanks.

"Guess I'd better call Pepper and tell her I'll be home earlier," I say, pulling out my phone.

"What about I show you about that life you were asking about first," Clint says. "If you're okay with that?" he adds hastily.

"I mean, I guess," I answer. "I'll have to be in Malibu by Saturday." I say, and Clint nods. "Well, people are going to want to say bye." I jog over to the door. "Wanna stay here, or wanna come?" I ask.

"I'll come," Clint says, walking over. "I'd better get used to hanging out with you," he says. "That might take a while," he teases and I roll my eyes.

"Let's go," I chirp cheerfully, opening the door, and Clint follows.

It takes us about half an hour but the two of us find everyone that I had connected with since I had joined four years ago. The only person I hadn't found yet, was Sam. Then I had a sudden revelation.

"Who are you looking for?" Clint asks curiously.

"My old partner and friend, Sam," I sigh. "I think I might know where he is," I say softly, and I jog to where Sam and I had left a monument to Riley.

And just as I had suspected, he was there, sitting on a bench.

"Sam?" I ask hesitantly, and he turns around.

"Hey, (Y/n)," he says softly and I go sit beside him.

"What's wrong?" I ask gently.

"It feels strange, you leaving after all this time," Sam says. "It feels, off, somehow," he says and I look down.

"I'll always keep in touch, you know that Sam," I say and he looks up, meeting my (E/C) eyes. "If ever you want to go on run for old time's sake, I'll always be around." I say and Sam laughs.

"What, and have you and you're super strength beat me every time? I don't think so," he says and I laugh.

Sam walks back over to me and I stand up. "I'll see you around, Sam," I say,giving him a hug, then jogging off back to my house/dorm.

I open the door and walk inside, not bothering to close it, knowing Clint and or Sam would follow me.

I walk over into the living area of the house and pull my guitar off the wall, glancing at it I set it on the couch and walk to my room to grab the case out of the closet.

Walking back into the living room, I look up to see Clint leaning against the doorway.

"Do you play?" Clint asks, nodding to the guitar on the couch.

"Nah, I just keep a guitar here, but don't know how to play it," I say jokingly.

Sitting down on the couch, I pull the guitar into the playing position, and begin to strum the introduction to "Hey there Delilah."

"Hey there, Delilah

What's it like in New York city?

I'm a thousand miles away But, girl, tonight you look so pretty Yes, you do Times Square can't shine as bright as you I swear, it's true

Hey there, Delilah Don't you worry about the distance I'm right there if you get lonely Give this song another listen Close your eyes Listen to my voice, it's my disguise I'm by your side

Oh, it's what you do to me Oh, it's what you do to me Oh, it's what you do to me Oh, it's what you do to me What you do to me

Hey there, Delilah I know times are gettin' hard But just believe me, girl Someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar We'll have it good We'll have the life we knew we would My word is good

Hey there, Delilah I've got so much left to say If every simple song I wrote to you Would take your breath away I'd write it all Even more in love with me you'd fall We'd have it all

Oh, it's what you do to me Oh, it's what you do to me Oh, it's what you do to me Oh, it's what you do to me

A thousand miles seems pretty far But they've got planes and trains and cars I'd walk to you if I had no other way Our friends would all make fun of us And we'd just laugh along because we'd know That none of them have felt this way Delilah, I can promise you That by the time that we get through The world will never ever be the same And you're to blame

Hey there, Delilah You be good, and don't you miss me Two more years and you'll be done with school And I'll be makin' history like I do You know it's all because of you We can do whatever we want to Hey there, Delilah, here's to you This one's for you

Oh, it's what you do to me Oh, it's what you do to me Oh, it's what you do to me Oh, it's what you do to me What you do to me, oh oh, woah, woah Oh woah, oh Oh"

I strum the last couple of cords and finish, Clint looking impressed as I put the guitar in it's case.

"How long have you been playing?" he asks.

"Since I was about three or four," I answer and Clint nods.

"Who taught you?" he asks, moving to sit beside me on the couch.

"My mom," I reply. I clear my throat. "I don't have anything else to move if you're ready to go. I told Ryan to offer this to Sam once I leave."

"Okay then, let's go," Clint says and the two of us stand up.

I sling my guitar case over my shoulder, and Clint grabs my suitcase and we walk out of the house and towards a jet.

"This yours?" I ask, looking inside the jet.

"Belongs to the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division," Clint answers.

"Why don't you guys just call it SHIELD? That's clearly what it was named after. Someone really wanted it to say SHIELD, maybe it was after Captain America's SHIELD," I wonder.

"That's easier to say than the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division," Clint says, laughing. "Can you fly one of these things?" he asks.

"I was in the Air Force dude," I say. "I was a pilot."

"Good, I needed a co-pilot," Clint says, and I look at him questioningly.

"You're asking a professionally trained pilot to be your co-pilot?" I ask teasingly.

"Good, you completely understand," he says and I shake my head playfully.

"So," I ask when the jet was in the air. "Where are we off too?" I ask.

"Missouri," Clint answers.

Word Count: 2654 Words

Hope you guys like the direction I am taking this book. I've never seen anyone write an Avengers' reader insert this way.

See you guys soon, I guess!

Love y'all,              Kaitlynn 😍❤