#The build up with no payoff at all would make me laugh forever

[the-werewithal]

I kinda want a Smallville-esque take on the Silmarillion. It's set exclusively back in Aman with the implication that Feanor's gonna start shit aaaany second now. He's working on some very impressive jewels in his workshop, Morgoth's looking pretty suspicious, and is that a giant spider I hear scuttling in the south? But its all fake outs, and it's just seven seasons of the messiest family drama imaginable. Noldor scandals and brewing rifts between them and the Valar. Maglor breaks a lute string and suspects sabotage. Aredhel steals a horse and gets lost in the woods. Feanor spends a really moving episode visiting the garden of his Mother's body. Finwe tries to be a good father and accidentally triggers a huge fight at least once a season. The Ambarussa make problems on purpose. Finrod befriends a wild dog. Nerdanel's latest statue of Maedhros gets its arm smashed off at the elbow. Finarfin collects novelty pens. Galadriel pretends she's above it all while being nothing of the sort. Gandalf stirs trouble. The very last shot is Feanor finishing the silmarils.

It wouldn't be good, but it'd be funny

[echowithpain]

Hi! It’s me, I’m the sundae receiver! We’re going to go all in now. We are committed to this. Okay so, setting the scene.

When Maddie and Chim have Josh and Buck over that first time, and Maddie says that she wouldn’t be setting josh up with her brother, Buck acts like it doesn’t bother him, but it does. Like, he is highly offended thank you. He is a fantastic boyfriend. He doesn’t try to make his relationship difficult, but somehow they all end. And at the end of the night, Buck offers to take Josh home because his place is on the way to Buck’s loft and Buck didn’t have anything to drink really. But they drive off, and Josh keeps stealing glances at Buck because in the little they’ve interacted, Josh has never seen him so, quiet. Stewing almost, so Josh breaks the silence with “I’m sorry if my comment upset you.” And poor sweet Evan, is so confused because, what is Josh even talking about, nothing he said was offensive, and Buck tells him so, its just that, what Maddie said about she wouldn’t set any of her friends up with Buck, that kind of hurt because Buck thought he was a great guy. And Josh, he hurts for Buck, because he knows what happened with Abby and Ali, and none of that was Buck’s fault, but everyone kind of makes it out like it is. So Josh tells him that he thinks Buck would be a fantastic boyfriend, and that just sets Buck off on a mini rant about how he WOULD be a fantastic boyfriend because he is romantic as fuck. And Buck can’t tell because he is a responsible driver and paying attention to the road, but Josh, well, Josh is watching him with heart eyes because he’s just so earnest and Josh knows all Buck craves is to be loved. And it slips out before he can even think about it and Josh almost takes the words back, but the soft, “I would be interested in seeing your romance in action, if you’d want that too.” And Buck, bless him just goes, “Oh,” and Josh, his heart falls because of course this man is straight and his apology is about to slip out but Buck just says, “I mean what would Maddie say though. She already hinted that she’d think we wouldn’t be good together.” And Josh, well his heart flips and for a moment he thinks he is going to have to call into work but he says instead, “I mean, I don’t tell her about every date I go on, and that would be up to you to tell her if you wanted to, but Evan, I am interested if you are.” And Buck has pulled up in front of Josh’s apartment building now and is just staring at him for a moment and Josh swears Buck’s eyes are made of stars and Buck just “Yeah, sure okay.” And Buck has this grin and it makes a warmth blossom in Josh’s chest, and dammit Josh would give up the world just to see Buck smile like that for all of eternity. But then, well Buck’s smile falters and Josh is worried he’s changed his mind but in a soft, slightly panicked whisper, says “I’ve never been on a date with another guy before.” And Josh just melts, “That’s okay. I would imagine that it’s not so different than a date with a woman.” And Josh’s voice is soft, but just that side of teasing and Buck huffs out a laugh, his grin back and they both relax. Buck opens his phone and gets Josh’s number with a promise to call when he has a chance to look at his schedule and they’ll make the plans. And then, Josh gives him a bashful smile, that Buck returns with a small goodbye, and Josh can feel Buck’s eyes on him as he walks up to the entrance to his apartment building and once he has the door open, turns and waves at Buck, watching the other man pull off slowly before letting the door close behind him. And look, Josh knows that Buck won’t be his forever. He’s seen the way he looks at Eddie and Eddie looks at him. But Josh knows that Buck has been hurt before and deserves to have someone love him for him before he finally realizes who his forever is. And if Josh is loved by one of the greatest men he knows in that time, well, that seems like a good payoff to him.

... I think I love you.

This was incredible and now I'm even more pissed at the writers for not making Buck and Josh a thing because thEY WOULD'VE BEEN SO CUTE!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Buck always gives 100% in his relationships while the other party barely gives him anything other than the chance to say he's dating someone and it's never been fair!

When he was with Abby, he helped her when her mom went missing, told her he had a sex problem and because he liked her he didn't want to mess it up by having meaningless sex, was taking her on dates and planning fun things because she said she felt like she wasn't allowed to have fun with her mom to take care of, and was there for her when she finally passed and promised to wait for her when she decided to go on her "Eat Pray Love" tour. And Abby... Got his number from a police statement because she thought he looked hot when she saw him on tv, was worried about being seen as old when they were on their first date, called him a "fun boy toy" when talking about him to Carla, and only wanted to get in his pants.

The whole relationship with Taylor was a mess. The 118 saved her life from a helicopter crash so she wants to do a report on them, and when they accidentally get high on drugged brownies, she makes her cameraman keep recording them and planned on releasing the footage to the public. Buck thinks she didn't because she liked him, but it turned out she only didn't because the LAFD's lawyers were scarier than hers. Buck realizes all she cares about is her "stupid job" and she goes off on him saying he doesn't have to like it. "Well I don't like it." "And I don't care." But because of heteronormativity, her cameraman walks past them and says to "just get a room already" making it seem like the angry tension was sexual tension (🙄). And when they finally do start dating, does Buck make mistakes? Yes, but it's because he's afraid of being alone. But he still tried to help her find new stories to report on, got the fire fam and Athena to help out when she needed "a miracle", was there for her when the writers tried (and failed lmao) to give her a tragic backstory, and for Christmas gave her a super thoughtful gift (the distress beacon that only activates when she wants it to). And while Taylor was there for him when Eddie got shot, she was also mainly focused on her work and doing anything that could boost her career. The fact that she figured out Lucy was the one who kissed Buck, went up to her and said "You don't know what the 118 means to him" only to turn around and run the story about Jonah even though Buck asked her not to. Geez their relationship was so bad.

Honestly, Ali was the only one I actually liked with Buck but she was unfortunately the one we got to see with him for the least amount of time. She was kind, actually funny, helped him get his loft, and was shown to be really loving and understanding. After he got his leg crushed by the firetruck when it blew up and he was finally out of the hospital, she understands that he wants to go right back to being a firefighter once his leg heals and realized she couldn't stand the thought of him getting hurt again. He asks her if she wants him to quit his job and she IMMEDIATELY tells him that she would never ask that because she knows it's who he is. That was probably the only time I've seen people break up and not be angry with either party. She was the only good relationship he's had so far.

Can you imagine, after dealing with Abby, after the unfortunate but understandable break up with Ali, after dealing with Taylor freaking Kelly, after dealing with "death death death" Natalia, Buck getting into a fun happy relationship with Josh?

I know the mini fanfic (fucking loved it btw 🥰💖🥰💖🥰💖🥰) has them starting with the poker night at Chim's which I think was before Taylor, but it still captured everything we would need from Buck and Josh dating! Buck being upset because romance doesn't seem to work for him, Josh worrying about Buck and talking to him to make sure he's okay, Buck going on a mini rant about how romantic he is, Josh lovingly listening to him and accidentally letting slip that he wouldn't mind dating Buck, Buck being surprised but not put off by the idea, only being unsure about what it'd be like dating a guy, Josh reassuring him it should be similar to dating a girl while also teasing him a little, both of them being flustered and excited for the new adventure they'd take together, Josh already knowing he and Buck won't stay together forever because he noticed how he and Eddie act around each other, and while knowing that, still wanting to date Buck because he deserves to be loved by someone who actually loves him 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

FUCK!!!! IM MAD AT THE WRITERS AGAIN!!!! (not you, you're beautiful and I love you 💖) WE COULD'VE HAD IT ALL!!!!!!! WE COULD'VE HAD SO MUCH!!!!! WE COULD'VE EATEN SO WELL!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[sadcatcall911]

Okay, so I have a few answers to your questions

The zombies—where are they?

They fell apart. The problem Neil Gaiman had with the zombies was that they were Nazis so they couldn't really escape damnatiom but they had to succed in their mission for the rest of the subplot to happen. So they are left on Earth as zombies and in their last scene they are already losing limbs.

The whole long sequence of buying the bullet-catch trick and putting on the show—why did we need to see all that?

Two reasons: to show the trust Aziraphale has for Crowley and to show that Aziraphale will often assume Crowley does things "a demon would do" like shooting a gun and this is often a wrong assumption.

The statue of Gabriel—what’s going on with it? It keeps coming up as a Thing but why?

It's a link between two subplots. Aziraphale goes to Edinburgh because Gabriel and we get the retrospection about grave robbing (which is important as an example of Aziraphale moral compass at work and is a set up for his decision in the final episode). When they find the statue they laugh about how Gabriel would love it and later we see that he does love it and he even wants to show it to Belzebub. Without the statue some might have argued that its *to convenient* that two plot significant events happen in the same city.

The Coffeeshop AU—we’re supposed to believe it is so important, one of the main plot arcs of the season, but it... comes to nothing?

It parallels Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship ergo The Talk they give Crowley at the end.

Aziraphale can draw, apparently, but why is it so important for us to know that? He could have taken a polaroid of Jim!Gabriel, no? Aziraphale knows how photographs work.

It's the most Aziraphale thing to do to not use technology.

Why was Crowley wearing sunglasses in the Job scene (2500BC) when he wasn’t wearing them in the two scenes bracketing it in the S1E3 cold open (the Flood and the Crucifixion)?

Because in this sequence he was going to pretend that he's human to Job and a bunch of angels.

Shax and Furfur establishing a little alliance—that seemed like a Thing, but the only small payoff we get from them is that little fistbump at the end? Did I miss something?

Their aliance started the whole bullet catching trick subplot. Shax is involved became her mentioning it prompts the retrospection and makes it more relevant to the main plot.

Apparently Aziraphale keeps a Derringer in a hollowed-out book in the shop—is this a literal Chekov’s gun??? Why do we need to know the gun is there unless he is going to fire it at some point?

Aziraphale assumes Crowley is familiar with guns because he is a demon but it turns out the angel owns a gun and the demon isn't sure where the trigger is.

Aziraphale not taking anything with him from the bookshop when he leaves, not even his journals—after all that discussion in S1 about The Things You Can’t Get In Heaven that he would miss so much he’s willing to sabotage the apocalypse?

Nothing lasts forever. Aziraphale choosing not to take anything with him emphasized this point.

The stuff about the Book of Life—seems like a big deal but only gets mentioned twice?

This is the reason Crowley is so worried and if we go with the "Crowley lost his memories after the fall" theory the possibility of not even remembering Aziraphale existed must be especially distressing for him.

Gabriel just randomly speaking a prophecy about a tempest and darkness and great storms, and then no on brings it up again—excuse me?????

This was a hint that Heaven was preparing Apocalypse 2.0

The coffee is on the table between Metatron and Aziraphale during their conversation, but what happened to it afterwards??? Why was the coffee important? Why spend those minutes of screentime fetching the coffee from the coffee lesbian and then deliberately handing it to Aziraphale if it wasn’t important?

I think the getting coffee sequence was there to build tension. Everything ended well, war was avoided, ineffable bureaucracy got a happy ending... and then this guy shows up. And I think a lot of viewers (myself included) didn't recognize him at first. So it's: this guy looks familiar... wait, it's Metatron OH NO wait, he wants to talk with Aziraphale OH FUCK NO

The “I was wrong” dance comes up once, but it seems weirdly emphasized for just a one-off joke.

Most of the fandom is already waiting for Aziraphale to do it next season.

Gabriel needed to give Aziraphale something to stop a terrible thing from happening—was that him just being confused because he had amnesia or was this another Chekov’s gun that hasn’t gotten fired? He didn’t give Aziraphale anything at all, did he?

The thing was the fly in the box. The something terrible was forgetting Belzebub.

What in the world is the significance of “Ask him properly?”

Might be a hint about Crowley losing his memory, might just be Crowley knowing that Aziraphale is too nice to demand an answer.

Overall I don't think we'll ever see a tv series having a bad episode/season on purpose just to make a plot twist. It didn't happen with Sherlock and I don't think it's what's happening here. If I'm wrong I'll do the dance.

The Magic Trick You Didn’t See: Being An Analysis of Good Omens Season 2

(or: Neil Gaiman, Your Brain is Gorgeous But I Have Cracked Your Sneaky Little Code And Have You Dead To Rights*) (*Maybe)

***

Soooooo I just spent the last 48 hours having a BREATHTAKING GALAXY BRAIN EPIPHANY about Good Omens Season 2 and feverishly writing a fuckin16,000 word essay about the incredible magic trick that @neil-gaiman pulled off. 

Yes, it’s long, but I PROMISE your brains will explode. Do you want to know how magic works? Do you want to know what Metatron’s deal is (I’m like 99% sure of this and it’s EXTREMELY FUCKING GOOD)? Do you want to know about the Mystery of the Vanishing Eccles Cakes and the big fat beautiful clue I found in the opening credits? Do you go through the whole inventory of Chekov’s Firearm & Heavy Artillery Discount Warehouse? 

Here is the essay, go read it: https://docs.google.com/document/d/193IXS11XN46lziHRb6eUpM17yK0BQkRqke1Wh64A_e0/ When ur done u can tell me I’m an insane crackpot, and u know what, i won’t even be offended

In case you don’t know whether you want to bother reading the whole enormous thing on google docs, I’ve put the first couple sections of it under the cut. JUST TRUST ME OKAY, HEAR ME OUT, THIS IS VERY EXTREMELY COOL, NEIL IS GOOD AT HIS JOB–

Czytaj dalej

[postalenha]

on and off % jake

pairing: playboybf!jake x reader genre: angst, fluff, lovers to exes, exes to lovers idek word count: 1.89k words requested: yes / prompt 14, “we called it off again last night.” / 18, “it’s been you all along.” / 19, “for the first time, i had something to lose.” synopsis: immaturity isn't needed in a relationship, but that seems to be jake's and your's specialty. warnings: curse words, mentions of drinking, throwing up, su!cide, toxic relationship, making out

"i thought you're going with jake today?" sunghoon asked as you hop into his car.

you rolled your eyes at the thought of riding in the same vehicle as the boy, "no, we called it off again last night."

"again?!" the boy exclaimed, "y/n, that's probably the nth time you guys called it off." he sighed in disbelief, "that's not how relationships work." he commented.

judgingly looking at his way, "yeah? like you know any better?"

"shut up." he started the engine, "this isn't about my love life."

"whatever." you blurt out, "i guess being bad at handling relationship runs in our blood." you jokingly said, as your cousin laugh.

he tilt his head smiling, "damn, of all things that can be passed down, that's what we got."

"well, at least we got good looks. that works as a payoff." he added. you agreed at him with a nod, "anyway." you changed the subject.

"i'm planning on ending it with jake." you stated. he looked at you, "no shit, you sure?" he assured, "to be honest, whatever makes you happy." he added, looking like he wanted to say something but he decided not to.

"don't apologize." you led before he could even say sorry for insisting that you should date his best friend, sim jaeyun.

"i'm not- okay whatever." he almost want to deny the urge but he saw you looking at him with a teasing face, "i just feel a little responsible for all the stress this relationship have caused you." he scratch the back of his head, as you slap his arm.

"shut up, dating him was my decision. you don't have to blame yourself for all the bad decisions i made for myself. i'm an adult now." you told him.

parking his car he nod his head, "okay. just remember i'm here if things are bad, okay?"

"okay." you said, before going out of his car. walking at the corridor of your building, trying to see if jake arrived earlier than you today.

and he certainly did. there he is on his designated seat beside the window, silently watching as the wilted leaves fall down from the tree.

the clock ticks time faster than you expected and your professor came in, not able to call out for jake's name to even talk to him.

sitting down to a chair, you told yourself that you'll talk to him later. and here you are, in front of jake sim at the rooftop of your university's main building.

it might be your lucky day for no one else is here but the two of you. this place is usually cramped with so many people and miraculously today isn't one of those days.

this may be one of the many signs sent from above that this relationship should end as it wasn't right from the beginning.

your blood boils as your cousin sunghoon pushes you into the table of his friend group, "come on! you wouldn't lose anything! he just want to talk to you." he shouts.

"then tell him i don't want to!" you shout back a little annoyed. the last thing you want to do tonight is talk to the famous serial dater, jake sim. "for i know, he just wants the best out of me!"

"come on! jake's not like that!" he defended his friend. to be honest, sunghoon is the last person you should be ranting to. for he is just like his friend, they play with girl's hearts for fun.

you rolled your eyes as you reach the table of ego. the decision of naming that wasn't yours, but the other students. they called this the table of ego because everyone in here got some solid ego. heeseung, jay, sunghoon, jake. all of them.

"y/n! you actually came!" heeseung cheered as soon as he saw you, he scooted a little bit on his right to leave some space between him and jake, "come sit!"

sitting beside him was probably one of the decisions you will forever regret in your life. the memory of that night was a blur. you barely recall anything that happened then.

the only thing that you remember was when jake was reaching for a kiss, you accidentally threw up on him before passing out.

the next day, he told you to be his girlfriend to compensate with the mess you gave his brand new shirt. you said yes just so he could shut up, telling yourself you'll break up with him after a day or two.

two months then passed and you are just breaking everything now. well, it's better late than never. you just didn't expect that he would actually be a good boyfriend.

he's mostly good, not until everything gets complicated even with nothing. you fight over the smallest thing like, not being able to respond to each other's text to someone getting jealous.

it wasn't the best relationship you've been in but it was a good experience. you learned so much and now, it's time to move on.

"what is it that you wanted to say?" jake impatiently snapped you back into reality. you swallowed a good amount of saliva before saying, "let's break up."

it was better to say it forward than beating around the bush. with this, more time and energy will be saved. because even if you give him an explanation he probably won't listen.

he slowly blinked and sighed, looking away he said "okay. if that's what you want." see. he wouldn't even bother asking you why.

well, if you get things easy. they would also go easily, "okay. it was fun meeting you." you head out, leaving him there.

he most probably would not be so upset that he might think of jumping off the building, but you still prayed that he wont.

and he didn't. you can guarantee that as you see that three weeks later jake sim is with a woman walking the same isle as you are. the chances of you seeing him here at this huge mall was small, but never impossible.

you grabbed your friend's hand trying to hide from the sight of the man, "what are you doing-"

"shut up, jake is here." you told here looking at their way, walking into a clothing store. you hurriedly go and sit at a restaurant far from them and ordered food when your friend speak up.

"y/n, what's the point of hiding now when you guys already broke up?" she patheticly looked at you who's trying to hide from a menu list.

putting the menu list down on the table, you crossed your arms, "i am not hiding from him. i simply don't want to involve myself with anything that has to do with him."

"yeah, like seeing him in a shopping mall involves you with him." she said with full sarcasm. "you have no idea how pathetic that sounded."

not listening to anything she said, you started eating your pasta. almost choking when you saw a familliar figure walk in the restaurant.

trying your best to lean down and not get noticed you hear your friend call, "jake!" you kick her feet under the table as you see jake wave back and walks closer.

"what the fuck did you just do?" you whispered at her, she just smiles like an idiot as jake reach your table.

"hello, jia." he greeted your friend, "hi, y'n."

flashing a fake smile, you said "hi." satisfied with how annoyed you are, jia announced "you guys can join us! we got two extra seats here."

"we don't want to intrude-" you cut him off, "yes, there are a lot of vacant tables. they sure can find their own, right?"

serving a glass of wine, a waiter says "oh, we're fully booked, ma'am. so if you want to eat here, you have to wait for another hour or so." he said pouring some on your glass. "if you'll excuse me."

"it would be rude if we don't invite you right? so join!" your friend cheered as the girl jake's with sit next to you.

taking a sip of your wine whenever jake helps the girl cut her steak, you became unaware of how drunk you are. "so, when did you meet jake?" you asked the girl.

to be frank, she was quiet the whole time. just sitting there, not saying a thing but a "thanks." whenever jake helps her with anything.

"you can't answer that? well can you tell me if you are able to use your hands to their purpose? like cutting off a steak or puring your own glass of wine?"

"y/n-" your friend tried to stop you. but you didn't listen. you just continued to blabber nonsense until jake grabbed your wrist to the bathroom.

shaking your hand off his grip you screamed at him asking, "why did you bring me here?!"

"y/n why are you being so rude?" he calmly asked you.

you sarcastically laughed, "i'm being rude? who's more rude when you're out here eating at the same table as your ex-girlfriend and your current girlfriend?"

"current girlfriend- y/n that's my cousin!" he tried to calm himself by breathing slowly, pushing the side of his mouth using his tounge "do you really think i could replace you that fast?"

the sudden question made you feel like someone cut off your tounge. because you mostly have answer for everything but this. his question caught you off guard.

"when you broke up with me, i never asked why. i knew you were tired and i don't want to exhaust you more." you hear his voice shake as he speak. "i was also tired and we both needed a break."

you looked straight at his eyes that are sparkling from moist done by the tears that he have been trying so hard to hold back, "but as time pass by, i felt more and more empty. there is a big mark of you in my heart that ever since you left, no one has ever filled."

"nobody could ever fit in, but you." cupping your face he also wipe your tears away. "i never felt that way before. it's like, for the first time, i had something to lose."

"jake, i-" it was as if you forgot how to compose a word. you never knew he felt the same way you did when you broke up with him.

maybe sunghoon was more of your cousin than he is jake's friend. because if jake only knew how many times you told sunghoon that you miss him, he would've came back faster than this.

he smiled pulling you into a hug, "it's fine if you don't feel the same way anymore. i understand that. but i just want you to know that i am not the douchebag you think i am."

pulling away from the hug, you see his eyes were bloodshot "sorry, the last thing i want to do is make you cry-" you pulled him into a kiss not letting another word out of his mouth.

running out of breath, you seperated his lips from yours. you widely smiled at him, "it’s been you all along."

kissing outside a three star restaurant's restroom isn't as ideal as other comeback stories, but you wouldn't ask for anything else. as long as you have jake in your arms, your heart is content.

[anidealiveson]

Thanksvember Master Post

Day 1 - Like Coming Home - It has a super rare “wholesome plot twist”! Without spoiling anything too huge, I really like that @julesherondalex took the time to talk about how important it is to take care of yourself first. You can’t love someone else properly, the way they deserve, if you don’t have that same love for yourself. I wasn’t expecting the heartbreaking scene, but the beautiful way in which that topic was was approached neither took away from the story or the joy.

Day 2 - Must Love Dogs - An incredibly fluffy (literally) fic that I loved reading. @rosehallshadowsinger did a really great job weaving Azriel and Elain’s canon personalities into this adorable AU scenario. It is obvious @rosehallshadowsinger took care to create believable personalities for two characters that didn’t get POVs in the books.

Day 3 - Striking Matches -  I have to say that I wasn’t at all attracted to an AU fic about firefighters. I was also not a big Rowaelin fan before that, but I was work procrastinating so I gave it a try. Wellll, 30 parts later, I found myself delighted at the writing and sad it was over. I couldn’t believe how well @shyvioletcat cat was able to entirely re-characterize these two into such a different setting, yet still retaining what made them popular in the books. Aelin was perfect in her role as a snarky schoolteacher irritating the stoic firefighter Rowan. And the descriptions of the kids lining up at the firehouse demonstration and Jake’s adorable prodding was icing on the cake.

Day 4 - Close Quarters -  I really loved the way @lady-therion wrote Nesta in this modern AU. I particularly like how she equates Nesta’s sometimes standoffish attitude as a very relatable personality trait. She has trouble reading people and gauging situations. It’s well written and the dialogue is unique for a plot that is common in ff!

Day 5 - Like A Lonely House - It’s got a colossal I love Lucy level misunderstanding mixed in with a lot of tension and angst. This Nesta that is full of sacrifice and duty and fire is how I imagine the Nesta who feels that she has a stake in the Fae world would be like. @featherymalignancy wove such a captivating new world in Macar, that it felt a lot like being introduced to the 8th court in the ACOTAR world.

Day 6 - Death Dance - There are several takes out there that touch on Nesta in the Ilyrian camps, but I love how @thewayshedreamed interpreted Nesta’s skills on the battlefield as a calculated dance. Nesta has always been a raging storm, but I love how @thewayshedreamed took care to show us a Nesta that channeled that storm into discipline. If SJM never intended to release a Nessian focused book, I would have considered this a satisfying end to their story.

Day 7 - One Night Standards - I love the way @sassyhobbits writes Aelin with her typical extremely sassy exterior, but also made sure to saddle her with a vulnerable side that runs deep. I normally don’t care for slow burns, but I like the pace of her relationship with Rowan here, and that they had to work hard at it. I also like the plot lines that involved their PR stunts and how the public grew to love them as well.

Day 8 - Goose Chasing - Its the most absurd plot of any fanfic I’ve read! The title is not figurative. Its really does involve chasing a goose. @rhysismydaddy did a fantastic job encapsulating the spirit of silly Cassian and grumpy Nesta in a situation they’d likely never find themselves in, yet making it entirely believable. 

Day 9 - Manon Chooses The Worst Babysitter Possible - It’s such a casual and fluffy and hilarious read. It was fun to read about a softer and more delicate Manon. Through this absurd mistake, @sarah-bae-maas did an excellent job really humanizing Manon and postulating a fun in-world domestic scenario. 

Day 10 - My Hunger Knows No Bounds -  @perseusannabeth manages to take a simple concept and weave a sweet narrative. I particularly love how @perseusannabeth incorporated her personal details into it and took the time to share her lovely culture with us.

Day 11 - Knowing me, Knowing you - We never got to actually see Aelin rule Terrasen (well we got a tinyyy bit) in the books. Though this was modern day, @nalgenewhore tells a fun story of what that could have been like.

Day 12 -  Forever (is a long time) - @noodlecatposts takes Elide and Lorcan’s completely polar opposite personalities and spins an interesting (and frankly quite adorable) story. All the rules crack me up. My favorite Lorcan is the one that reminds me of Luke Danes from Gilmore Girls. Currently, he is in the middle of grumpily fixing up her flooded room, so I am sure that my favorite parts are yet to come.

Day 13 - Go Your Own Way - I appreciate @tomtenadia for putting to words a scene that I desperately wanted in ACOWAR or even ACOFAS. A lovely parallel to an equally lovely Fleetwood mac song.

Day 14 - In Which She Makes A Friend - It is no surprise that the fandom wants Nesta to find her place in the Illyrian mountains and even bring about some social change with the female warriors. But the way @bookstantrash got there was such a wonderful and endearing journey. Big fan of the callbacks to how Kaelin was treated and the similarities to a certain Illyrian warrior was when he was younger. We got to see a sweet Nesta, who I’d like to think was attempting to make up for some of her regrets through taking care of Kaelin.

Day 15 - The Ranch - As a huge fan of Sweet Home Alabama, its should be no surprise that I loved this fic by @tacmc . I enjoyed the slow change that we saw in a stubborn Nesta as she opened up to this new way of life and reconnected with her sisters and found a home with Cassian.

Day 16 - Felons - Such a unique interpretation of Nesta and Cassian. I really like the self-sacrificing Nesta angle and @rhysismydaddy did a great job weaving intrigue into the unraveling of what we knew to be a her innocence. I never read The Witness, but this really made me want to.

Day 17 - Of Books and Timber - Cassian offers to build a shelf for Nesta. The way @duskandstarlight goes through the entire range of emotions through Nesta is brilliant. She starts out with cold indifference, but by the end, we get from her a sweet and tender gesture of gratitude. Showing that meeting each other halfway with small gestures is all they ever needed.

Day 18 - You Should Sleep In My Bed More Often - I absolutely loved this quick exchange between Nesta and Cassian after she accidentally injures him. I can’t believe how much I laughed out loud when Cassian said “I need you to protect me closer”. @charincharge​ perfectly captured the teasing childish essence of Cassian and Nesta’s hilarious victim-blaming was so on the nose that I might have thought this was taken right out of ACOSAF.

Day 19 - The Right Swipe - I really enjoyed this take on the inner circle mixed with the super modern online dating plot. I especially love that @redisriding created genuinely realistic characters (body issues, social anxiety etc). Great read!

Day 20 - Goldfish Prompt - What a fun read. I love how frantic and much personality Feyre had here. I love how dedicated to her fish she was, and how that made her super endearing. Cute read from @azrielsiphons

Day 21 - The One With The Snowstorm -  What I really like is that Cassian actually says that he is sorry for his part in Nesta’s exile. I am not bitter about it, but it was an interesting turn. They need to meet halfway here and I rarely see it so well written as @joysbell has done here!

Day 22 - Prompt - A lovely and cute and sweet prompt written by @crowsvalentine​! I love the ramp up of suspense just to get to the hilarious payoff. Its adorable and worth the quick read.

Day 23 - Fix It -  is one by @thewayshedreamed​ that I love in its simplicity. It’s a small little argument Cassian and Nesta get into, but its still compelling. It’s sweet and super endearing the way the two of them are written and the subtle way they work through it. Great read!

Day 24 - I Do Bad Things To You - The mob angle may have been done before, but I don’t think with as much care and regard that @tswaney17​ has been giving it. I how the canon personalities of the characters translate so well into this modern AU. Its very obvious that @tswaney17​ has done her research. I especially love all the details around Elain as a surgeon. The story is compelling and well written and every chapter has me wanting more.

Day 25 - Love Her Like She should Be Loved - This is an excellent fic that I really loved. @julemmaes did such a great job translating some of the canon tension from ACOFAS into a modern world. It’s ripe with emotion, drama and quite a bit of heart. I love how earnestly Cassian comes to Nesta’s defense even in the face of going against his entire family. I like the reference to some very real psychological struggles. I think a lot of people can relate to it.

Day 26 - Literally In Love - I really enjoy the subtle mystery that follows this entire journey. I enjoy that @julesherondalex keeps us guessing, while simultaneously weaving a sweet and tender story about two shy teachers and just a slew of mishaps worthy of a Shakespearian drama.

Day 27 - The Shadow Bond - I love Azriel, and this is such a wonderful fic by @radientwings​ focusing on how his shadows might work. His shadows are the one thing that I am most curious about him in the series, so it was lovely to read such a well written interpretation of them.

Day 28 - Exes and Oh’s - Just a shout out to @highqueenofelfhame​ for this lovely story about rekindling past love. I like that even though the plot was uncomplicated, the emotions were not. I love that Aelin didn’t have a perfect reason for what she did, but sometimes that is just how things are. This is a story about taking a second chance, whether it’s deserved or not.

Day 29 - Fever - I really love this fic called Fever. I enjoyed how @lady-therion​ portrayed Nesta. She hit the entire gammut of characteristics (snarky, worried, vulnerable, caring, short-tempered, flirty, you name it!) but it really worked here. I found this nurse Nesta to be endearing and relatable and the dynamic between her and Cassian was very sweet. Just go read the damned thing.

Day 30 - Baby Steps - I really really love this fic. @runesandfaes did such a great job in just so few words to show a really sweet moment between Chaol, Yrene and their daughter learning to walk. I love the parallel back to when Chaol was learning to walk and the cameo of the golden couch. So sweet.

[sherrybaby14]

The Option VII

This is a Dark! Bucky x Naïve!Reader story.  It contains questionable consent.

 Warnings: This is a dark/rape/noncon story. Please do not read if that offends you.

 Chapter Warnings:  Smut, fluffy smut, oral, mentions of period, (there are no trigger warnings for noncom/dubcon)  This chapter is a little sickeningly sweet/ fluffy so sorry if you gag on the cotton candy a little 

 Words: 5k

 Summary: You learn about Bucky’s past, but still can’t accept details about your present.

 A/N: This is a bit of a smut fest again, but I promise the plot is going to pick back up soon.  

               You were in the bed, your head resting on Bucky’s chest, his arm curled underneath you, holding you close.  But for all you cared you could’ve been in outer space because nothing mattered except for his words.  

                 There were no interruptions.  You hung on everything he said, fairly certain that in the last hour he spoke more than he had the previous six weeks.  

                  “My final mission, they sent me after a target. There was something about him.  He looked familiar.  My dedication to the mission was faltering.  This man, he made something in me snap.”  Bucky sighed. “But not enough.  I had him.  He was going to die, but instinct took over and I jumped in and pulled him out. Dropped him on the riverbank and ran. For this first time in over seventy years, I was free.”  

                  A tear rolled down your cheek.  The darkness that chased Bucky, the horror that had been his life if someone could even call it that.  It wasn’t fair.  It wasn’t right.  

                  “I ran, that was two years, four months, and eighteen days ago.”  Bucky swallowed.  “Pieces of my memory came back.  I robbed a few Hydra bases along the way, killing everyone inside and burning them to the ground.”  

                  For the first time in your life you found yourself happy to hear someone was dead and hoped Bucky made them suffer even a fraction of what they put on him.  

                  “I knew about this country and once I had enough cash I decided this was the best place to hide out.  My plan was to stay here as long as possible before they found me. Alone.  Maybe forever.”  He squeezed you tighter. “So now you know. Everything.”  

                  Questions and answers circled your brain.  You didn’t know how to respond without sobbing for what Bucky had been through, for how he managed to end up a good person. Most would’ve broken.  

                  “Say something Peach.”  There was a shake to his voice.  “Say anything.”  

                  “You were a howling commando.  The man you pulled from the river was Captain America.” You weren’t certain it was a statement or a question.  

                  “Yes.”  Bucky seemed to tense under you.  

                  “Why not go to him for help?”  The man was arguably the most famous person in the country, and with the Avengers at his back, he would help.

                  “I’ve killed a lot of people.  Important people.  Someone has to answer for that.  I’m the villain in this story Peach.”  Bucky turned to face you.  His blue eyes bore into yours and his jaw clenched.  “I’m not a hero, I’m not a good guy.  I deserve worse than exile for what I’ve done.”  

                  “It wasn’t your fault.”  You reached out and cupped his cheek.  “None of it.  People will understand.  Hydra is the villain, you are just as much a victim as the dead.  And Hydra is gone now.  I remember it was front page news.  You can come home.”

                  “My Peach.”  Bucky looked like he was trying to hold back a laugh. “Sometimes things are more complicated than they appear. The second you start thinking Hydra is dead is the second they show up at your door.  Evil finds a way of living forever.”  

                  “So dedicate your life to stomping it out.” You hated the idea that Bucky felt forced to hide.

                  “I think I’ve lost enough of my time.” Bucky slid down so he was on his side next to you. “And like you said, everyone thinks Hydra is dead so I wouldn’t have the first clue where to look now, or what they’re capable of.  I won’t be a weapon again.”  

                  “Well maybe, when Spring comes, we could go back to the US together?”  You turned on your side to face him.  “Steve Rogers is a household name, but James Barnes isn’t.  It took a few minutes for it to click in my mind.  Maybe we could hide in plain sight?  And if you ever felt comfortable enough, you could contact him.”    

                  “Wait, you’re not scared of me now?” His expression softened and his eyes focused on your lips.  “I thought I was going to have to chain you to the bed or lock you in the basement.”  

                  “Scared of you?” You traced your hand down his chin. “If anything I feel safer with you, like some little part of my life makes actual sense at the moment.”  

                  “When I got home, seeing you with that gun.  I was scared.”  Bucky’s features narrowed.  “What were you thinking?”  

                  “I wasn’t.”  You curled your shoulder’s forward hoping to hide.  

                  “I need a better answer than that Peach.” Bucky’s finger was under your chin tilting it up.  “Now.”

                  “I have all these questions, and then they build and build and build.  Then when I saw the gun, I freaked out and my initial reaction was to run.  The same thing happened that night in the snow.” You closed your eyes as a tremor ran over you.  “I do that a lot.”  

                  “You hadn’t asked anything in a while.  I didn’t realize it was that important to you.” Bucky ran his hand down your back. “I know I’m not the easiest to talk to, but if things are building up inside of you that much.  I need to know.”  

                  “I don’t want you mad at me though.”  You opened your eyes and felt them well with tears. “I can’t stand the thought of you mad at me.”  

                  “Oh Peach.”  Bucky pushed you onto your back and got on top of you.  “You’re such a good girl, but part of what I want from you is honesty.  That includes telling me when you’re upset.  Don’t worry so much about my reactions, I’m never letting you go.”  

                  There was a strange sense of relief in his praise. Even after your behavior today you were still his good girl.  His Peach.   Before the smile could settle in on your face Bucky leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.  

                  You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer.  His hands went to his pants and he started to push them off.  You were still naked from your session in the kitchen and eager to feel his skin against yours.  

                  The kiss broke so he could undress the rest of the way and your wish was granted when his bare torso pressed to your chest. You parted your legs and his cock entered you with ease.  

                  You kissed the entire time he rocked in and out you.  You lifted your hips to meet his thrusts and your bodies continued in a rhythm, the pace set by Bucky.   The coil started to form in your stomach and you whined, hoping for him to move faster.

                  “Not yet Peach.”  Bucky broke this kiss as he drove back inside of you, stilling for a second.  “I’m going to enjoy you.”

                  His lips went back to yours and then his tongue slid into your mouth.  You tried not to whine or move out of sync with him, but you knew exactly what his phrase meant.  Slow and deep, his hard cock was going to drag you to the edge and then leave you teetering until you couldn’t take it anymore.  

                  You whimpered, knowing that the journey to the orgasm was going to be a long one, but that the payoff was going to be so intense your body would shake.  

                  A few hours ago in the kitchen, Bucky fucked you, but right now you were his Peach and he was going to take his time making love to you.  

~~~  

               She was a withering mess underneath him, her hands couldn’t decide if they should grip onto him or the sheets.  Tiny beads of sweat covered her and her body had gone limp, giving him complete control.  

                  Bucky kept one hand on the mattress and the other on her hip as he lifted her to meet his drawn-out thrusts.  Every time he pulled out she moaned and when he reentered her teeth chattered.  She was so vulnerable like this and it made Bucky’s cock grow even harder.  

                  “Plea…plea…plea…”  She was incapable of forming a coherent thought, let alone a complete sentence.  

                  “You want to cum?” Bucky slid his hand to the back of her knee and pushed her leg to her chest.  

                  Peach nodded as her eyes struggled to open.  

                  “Are you going to behave?”  Bucky moved to her other leg and folded it up the same way.

                  She continued to nod.  He loved the look on her face, desperate for the release only he could give her.   Bucky wanted to be her everything, her entire world and right now he was.  It was tempting to keep her hovering like this, desperate for him.  But her pussy felt so good it was almost torturous for him too.  

                  Bucky slid both of his hands to the bed and positioned himself so that her legs were folded up between them.  

                  “Alright Peach.   Be my good girl.”  Bucky pulled his hips back and slammed back inside of her.  

                  She moaned and bounced into the bed.  He did not hesitate between thrusts as he continued to rail her into the mattress.  All the bead of sweat on her body formed into a sheen and she fell apart underneath him.  

                  The juices from her pussy gushed around him as her muscles contracted down.  An array of noises and pants came from her beautiful mouth and he wanted to absorb every one of them.  She lost the fight to keep her eyes open, but he saw them rolling under the lids.  

                  This was what his Peach needed.  To live in a constant state of pleasure only he could provide.  That would be his ultimate goal.  

                  Her pussy continued to clamp down and Bucky couldn’t take it anymore.  

                  “Grr.”  He buried himself one final time and emptied inside her quivering body.  

                  She gasped for breath while he lowered his head to the pillow next to her.  He grunted and flexed down one more time making sure he was finished before pulling out of her and rolling onto his back.  

                  Soon Peach’s breathing regulated.  Bucky knew how exhausted she was, probably spent all afternoon pacing back and forth in the kitchen, working herself up.  

                  He had no clue that his lack of sharing was that upsetting to her.  The idea of opening up to anyone terrified him, but Peach…she accepted him.  She even wanted to help him, with her big naïve heart.  

                  Hydra wasn’t dead and not even the amazing Captain America could help him.  Besides, Steve was more of a concept than a person.  Memories that old never came back, not really anyway.  

                  Sure, he has thought about making contact. Even went as far as to figure out a way how, but to what end?  

                  When he tried to remember his life pre-Hydra, it was like trying to remember an episode of a television show whose name you forgot and stars were replaceable.  Besides, the Avengers declared it peacetime and last Bucky heard Steve was considering retirement.  

                  And in a way, so was Bucky.  Now that he had his Peach.  He wanted nothing more than to stay in bed and watch her sleep, but there were lots to put away from his trip into the town.  Plus, he had to clean up the guns and whatever else she found.  

                  So he gave Peach a kiss on the head and stood up, pulling his pants on as he rose.  

                  He unloaded the food, feeling much better about lasting through the winter. Bucky wasn’t sure where they would head once the thaw came, but the first country that had a trustworthy Doctor Bucky was having the vasectomy reversed.  

                  His cock twitched at the idea of filling up his Peach, watching her swell with his children.  His eyes flared at the image.  Then she would really never leave him.  

                  He leaned against the counter, surprised at himself.  Thinking of plans for the future longer than surviving the night.  Things he never thought possible, not before Peach.  

                  Maybe he would pick somewhere with a beach. Costa Rica was beautiful.  Bucky could keep her safe there.  Returning to America was not an option.  Bucky’s problems aside, Peach still hadn’t accepted the reality of her situation.  

                  The second her name showed up anywhere the traffickers would come to collect.  He went to his jacket and pulled out the flyer.  With a reward that high she must have been worth a lot of money to someone.

                  Bucky knew he had to show it to her, hopefully, it would sink in how much danger she was in.  That there was no returning to the old life.  

                  Peach accepted a lot of new information today. The last thing Bucky wanted was to overwhelm her or risk another breakdown.  For how strong she was there was still a fragility to her that he already felt was being over-tested.  

                  Soon.  He would show her soon.  He folded the paper and tucked it away on the shelf over the refrigerator. That way he wouldn’t forget about it.  

 ~~~  

                 You rolled over and reached your arm out, draping it across Bucky.  He gave a grunt and grabbed your waist, pulling you closer.  Without opening your eyes you snuggled next to him while he held you.  

                  Yesterday was dark, but now that you knew everything it seemed like there was a lightness between the two of you.  That you were closer than ever.  

                 You placed a kiss on his chest, thinking how lucky you were to have him, that a man like him cared for a woman like you.  It was almost surreal.  You wanted to show him how lucky you felt, so you started to kiss more and then opened your mouth, running your tongue on his skin.  

                 “Hmmm.”  Bucky relaxed his grip on you and you started to work your way down his stomach, staying under the covers.

                 You nudged his hip.  He understood and rolled on to his back.  

                 You positioned yourself so that you were between his legs, the blanket still over your head.  His cock stood at attention, just like it did every morning and you licked your lips before grabbing the base.  

                 Then you pressed your tongue right above your hand and ran it up the underside soliciting a groan from him.  

                 When you came to the head you wrapped your lips around him and let saliva pool while making a light sucking motion with your mouth.

                 “Shit.”  Bucky’s leg twitched.  

                 The movement made you grin and urged you on as you parted your lips and took him further.  Soon you had enough lubricant that you were able to bob your head, sliding him in and out of your mouth.  

                 “Use your hands too Peach.”  Bucky touched the back of your head lightly.  “It’s alright.”  

                 You knew that wasn’t his favorite.  He liked to enjoy your mouth as long as possible and using the hands made it go too quickly, but for the exact same reasons, you were eager to stroke him, knowing how sore your jaw could get.  

                 You got your hands in on the action and started moving both of them in unison with your mouth, covering all of his cock with one fluid motion.  

                 “Fuck.”  Bucky pressed the back of your head.  

                 You picked up speed, lapping your tongue as best you could.  He flexed his hips up and you took away your hands, trying to swallow as much of him as you could without gagging.  His cock twitched in your mouth and you breathed in through your nose as his cum squirted.  

                 The salty taste hit the back of your tongue, but you sucked it down, feeling it slide down your throat.  You didn’t drop him from your mouth until you were certain you’d taken every last drop.  

                 “What a way to wake up.”  Bucky chuckled.  

                 You crawled up his body and popped your head out of the covers.  What you saw made you recoil at first.  You blinked several times, unsure you weren’t imagining it.  

                 “Your hair.”  You reached your hand up and touched the short locks.  “You cut it?”  

                 “Time for a change.”  Bucky grabbed your arms and pulled you all the way up before rolling you onto your back.

                 Bucky settled on top of you and started kissing your neck.  You hadn’t expected him to return the favor, but you weren’t about to turn the opportunity down.  

                 He kissed down to your breast and stopped at your nipple, taking it into your mouth while his other hand kneaded you. His tongue flicked across you, forming a stiff peak that made you wiggle your hips.  

                 He kept his mouth on your tit while his hand worked down your stomach to your sex, you spread your legs and moaned as his fingers slid up your clit.  

                 “Peach?”  Bucky’s mouth was gone and there was a sharpness to his voice that made you look up.  “Are you alright?”  

                 What you saw made your jaw drop in horror. You scooted back on the bed underneath him and saw the spot on the sheet.  Heat and embarrassment flooded your face as realization dawned on Bucky as he looked at his red fingers.                  

                 “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”  You wanted to curl up and die but also get off the sheet before you made a bigger mess.  

                 “Come on.”  Bucky scooped you up. “Nothing to apologize for.”  

                 “I’ll wash the sheets right away.”  You tried to wiggle out of Bucky’s grasp, but he carried you out on the bedroom.  

                 “Not before we take a shower.”  Bucky kissed your neck.  

                 A small moan left your mouth.  You’d assumed when your period came that would mean you’d get a sex break, but apparently Bucky had a workaround for that too.

 ~~

               After your shower session with Bucky you dressed and gathered the sheets.  At least you hadn’t stained the mattress.  When you carried them down the stairs you saw Bucky hard at work in the kitchen, the shorter hair still through you off.  It made him look like a different person, well almost.  

                 “You have to eat something.”  Bucky cracked an egg.  “You skipped dinner last night.”  

                 You stomach rumbled and the sound of the cooking egg practically made your mouth water.  

                 “Let me get the laundry started.”  You rounded the corner to the basement.  

                 “No.”  Bucky was at the stove.  “I have plans for us today.  Drop it at the bottom of the stairs.”  

                 “But it will stain.”  You cringed.

                 “I’ve had some experience getting blood out of fabric.  It will be fine.”  Bucky transferred eggs to a plate and walked over to the table.  “Now eat.”  

                 The situation was so gross this morning but did not seem to faze Bucky at all.  You walked to the stairs and tossed the sheet down.  Then you took a seat and practically devoured your eggs.  

                 “I wish I would have asked you to get me some boots when you went to town.”  You took another bite, thinking about the snow coming and leaving you trapped.  

                 “The idea crossed my mind.”  Bucky ate.  

                 “Really?” You perked up.  

                 “Don’t get excited Peach, I didn’t get anything for you outside of food.”  Bucky dropped the fork.  

                  “Oh, I didn’t expect you to.”  You didn’t want him to think you didn’t appreciate all he did provide for you.  

                 “I think, both of us, sometimes forget about the gravity of this situation.”  Bucky reached out and took your hand.  “In what a horrible spot you’re in.  How people are looking for you, bad people.”  

                 “Do you think my Uncle is looking for me?”  You took another bite.  “He must be so scared.  I wish there was a way I could reach out and tell him I’m safe.  I bet he’s alerted the press and anyone else who will listen.”  

                 “Um Peach.”  Bucky’s face contorted.  “How close were you with your Uncle?”  

                 “I told you, just recently reconnected.”  You smiled remembering how kind he had been. “He was so kind at the funeral.”  

                 “Do you think, maybe, he isn’t as kind as he let on?” Bucky squeezed your hand.  

                 The smile on your face dropped.  You rolled your lips between your teeth and shook your head.

                 “He’s family.”  You gave a laugh.  “Families don’t hurt each other like that.  It was the girl on the train.”  

                 “Alright Peach.”  Bucky released your hand.  “Sometimes organizations like the one interested in you, they have deeper roots than you realize.”  

                  You looked down at the floor and brought your arms to your sides, giving yourself a hug.  This conversation was making you uncomfortable.  

                 “So what are we doing today?”  You looked back up at Bucky and gave a smile.  

                  There was a look of pity in his eyes, but he nodded his head and rose from the table, picking up his plate in the process.   You brushed away thoughts about what the pity look meant or your Uncle being involved, or major criminal networks.

                 Once you got through the winter it would be Bucky needing your help.  You could go back to your old life, you needed to reassure him that there was a place for him there too.  That should be your number one focus.  The future. Not the past.  

                 “See if you can shove enough of these in my spare pair of boots to make them fit.”  Bucky put down wool socks on the table.  “Then grab a jacket and a pair of gloves from the door.”  

                 “We’re going outside?”  You watched as Bucky headed toward the basement.  

                 “Yep.”  He didn’t look up as he jogged down the stairs.  

                 You got up from the table and put your dish in the sink.  As you got ready you wondered what it was he had planned.  Your mind raced.  You knew it wasn’t over the activity as much as trying to keep out the thoughts that were circling you.  

~~~  

                 Why could Bucky not spell everything out for her? Why was he such a coward when it came to upsetting his Peach?  

                 She wasn’t stupid.  Deep down Peach knew these things, but she was so trusting. The exact opposite of him.  He didn’t want to turn her into him.  So maybe letting her have these fantasies that she was on the front page of newspapers with her uncle giving press conferences wasn’t harmful.  At least not now.  

                 Bucky grabbed what he needed and went back upstairs. Peach was at the door, looking slightly ridiculous in his boots and jacket.  He couldn’t help the smile as he pulled on the rest of his winter gear.  

                 “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing now?” Peach stepped aside so Bucky could open the door.  

                 “I’m going to teach you how to use this.” Bucky held out the gun Peach had been waving around.  

                 Her face fell, but Bucky wasn’t taking no for an answer.  He grabbed her hand with his other and led her outside.  

                 “Bucky, I appreciate gun safety, but I can’t think of a situation when I’d ever shoot anything.”  Peach trailed behind.  “I don’t think this is necessary.”  

                  “Not open for debate.”  Bucky walked past the animal pen to the long open field.  

                 White flakes covered his shoulder, but the visibility was good.  He guessed by the time the sun went down there would be several inches on the ground again, the brief warm period passed.  

                  “I…I don’t want to.”  Peach dropped Bucky’s hand.  “I’ll never be able to pull the trigger.”  

                 “Peach. Look at me.”  Bucky was scared of the exact same thing.  “You’re in a dangerous place.  I’ll die protecting you, but in the event, you have to protect yourself…I need you to know what you’re doing.”  

                 She looked scared and bit her lip, but she gave a slight nod.  

                 “Alright.  Let’s start.” Bucky got Peach in the stance.  

                 He went over basic gun information, showing her how to carry it, the safety, the different parts, how to reload.  Then he went over how to hold it, brace for the recoil, how to aim.  When it was time for her to pull the trigger, there was some reluctance.  

                 “Peach.  Picture a man, coming to take you away from me.  Coming to sell you to the highest bidder.  He wants to take your freedom.  Take your life.”  Bucky put his hands on Peach’s shoulders.  “Pretend he’s that tree and pull the trigger.”  

                 BLAST!  The bullet sounded, and a small puff of smoke came from the gun and the tree.  

                 “Wow.”  Bucky thought she would be a mile off, but she hit the target dead on.  “Try that tree.”  

                 Peach moved her stance and again pulled the trigger. She glanced over her shoulder at him, but Bucky scratched his chin.  

                 “Did I do something wrong?”  She lowered the weapon.  “See, I knew I wasn’t going to be good at this.”  

                 “Hold on.”  Bucky jogged over to the animals and came back with a can.  He walked over to the fence and set the can down before coming back over.  “Alright Peach.  Can you hit the can?”  

                 She sighed, but readied her stance.  BLAM! TINK! The can went flying.  Peach lowered the weapon.  

                 “I think you might be a natural.”  Bucky smiled.  

                 The corners of her mouth rose.  It did bring Bucky some comfort knowing she might have a chance at defending herself.  

                 “I’m going to set some more targets further out. Don’t shoot me.”  Bucky shook his head as he went to set them up.  

                 It also made his cock twitch seeing how good she was with the weapon.  He worried he was taking advantage of her body a little too much and promised himself when her period arrived he was going to give her a little bit of a break, but it was already tempting to drag her back into the shower.  He shook the thought away.  This week once a day, maybe twice.  

 ~~

               “Dinner is ready!” Bucky yelled up the stairs.  

                 You took a deep breath, wishing there was a mirror up here.  From what you could tell it didn’t look too bad.  You managed to turn the green sequined dress into a baby doll, complete with a sheer thong.  Wearing any sort of panty felt foreign to you, but you didn’t think they would stay on long anyway.

                 “Peach?”  Bucky yelled again.  

                 “Coming!”  It was now or never.  

                 You walked down the hall and then the stairs. When you saw the table your heart melted.  He had lit two candles.  

                 “I’m not sure if you remembered.”  Bucky spun around. “But, it’s Christ…”  

                 Your eyes flashed toward him.  He scanned your body up and down.  His tongue darted out over his lips.  

                 “Merry Christmas Bucky.”  You held the sides of your creation out.  “Do you like your present?”  

                 He strutted over to you and lifted you in the air. You wrapped your legs around him as his hand ran across your cheek.  His mouth was on yours in a second, his tongue demanding entry.  

                 “We should eat first.”  You twisted your neck.  

                 “No.”  Bucky walked you over to the other room.  “I want my present.”  

                 His hands tugged the top of your lingerie down, your breast falling free.  He took your nipple into his mouth and suckled, making you moan.  

                 The panties were gone in a second as he laid you down on the couch, the fire lighting the room as the fifth snowstorm in as many days roared outside.  

                 Bucky’s hands were on his pants, pushing his cock free. He pushed into you with ease and wasted no time fucking you into the couch.  His hands were all over you like he couldn’t find a place to settle them. You ran your hands through his hair and scratched down his back, tugging his shirt.  

                 But there wasn’t time for him to undress. His need for you was too great and that made you tingle even more.  He hit all your buttons and soon your toes were curling in orgasm as he emptied inside of you.  

                 Both of you were panting on the couch, his head resting on your chest.  

                 “Merry Christmas.”  You stroked his hair.  

                 “I love my present.”  Bucky pushed off of you.  “Wait right here.”  

                 You sat up and readjusted yourself, tucking your breasts away and looking for the panties.  

                 “Full disclosure, this was the previous owners. I don’t know if it’s real or not, but when we’re out of here, I’ll replace it with a real one of your choosing.”  Bucky grabbed your left hand.  

                 You looked as he slid on a beautiful antique diamond ring. Your mouth hung open as you glanced from the ring to him and back again.  

                 “Does this mean….Are we..”  He didn’t ask a question, so you didn’t know if there was a response required.  

                 Bucky gave you a smirk and folded his arms as he sat on the couch.  

                 “Engaged?”  You felt silly saying the word.  

                 Bucky laughed and took your hand.  

                 “Peach, you’re mine.  You’re mine forever.  No ring or piece of paper is going to change that or make it stronger.”  Bucky kissed your forehead.  “If you want to use the title I don’t mind, but skip the fiancé and go straight to wife.”  

                 You grabbed his face and pulled it to yours as you straddled him on the couch, kissing him deeply, happy you hadn’t found the panties yet.  Bucky lifted his hips and slid his pants down, ready to go again.  

                 Mine.  Forever. He’d said those words before, but for some reason now they sunk in.  There was a gnawing in your head.  This wasn’t forever.  Spring was around the corner and then what would you do?  You pushed it away.  Tonight wasn’t about the future.  It was about the present.  Your present.

 A/N: Thank you for reading! Just a heads up on what’s coming. The next chapter is going to just be a sex scene and it’s going to be dark(ish). I’m going to write it as a standalone with very little plot so people can skip it if they don’t want to read. Then after that the plot is really going to pick back up again.  (We’re sort of in the middle where they’re just having a sex fest).   Thank you again for reading!  I love all the feedback and am so appreciative!  

XoXo

Sherry

[areiton]

mark me yours

There are marks--soulmarks and heart marks and life marks--that are deep and abiding and written into the soul, that define the person they mark.

Or: They aren't soulmates. And Rhodey doesn't give a damn--Tony is his. And he--he has always been Tony's.

A/N: This is almost 5k so Read on AO3? Or watch for the read more! 

~*~ 

His heart mark is wings. Gunmetal grey and delicately articulated gearwork. They aren't feathers--the wings that spread like a whispered promise across James Rhodes wrists are created, built and he loves them, illogically and fiercely. 

 ~*~ 

 Tony is passed out the first time Rhodey sees his heart mark, gearwork metal shrapnel embedded bloody in his chest. It makes him stop because that heartmark means tragedy, means blood and death and destruction. They're a dirty bloody promise that is a bitter juxtaposition of Rhodey's gunmetal grey wings. 

He wants to weep, seeing them, and understands, abruptly, why Tony never bares his mark, why he never talks about it about his destiny. 

His fingers tremble and shake and steady. He cleans the vomit from his face, hands gentle, wrestles him into bed and stays close while Tony sleeps, arms around him like sheltering wings. 

 ~*~

 His mama said heart marks were you and everything tied up in your soul that made you into a person. 

Soul marks were different. Soul marks belonged to someone else, marked you as theirs. Not everyone had them. They were prized, rare marks for those souls who belonged to someone else. 

He didn't have one. And he'd never wanted one, was happy with his heart mark and small fading marks of friends and family. 

Tony did. He wore them like armor, both his soul marks flaunted and bared for the world to see, a kind of taunt and challenge both. 

Rhodey touches them once, when they're sitting in his lab and Tony is waving his hands, effusive and effervescent, his favorite way for Tony to be, and they catch his gaze, pull his attention and he reaches, not really planning to, and his fingers brushing against Tony's marks--a star, black with red and gold spiderwebbed throughout. A gleaming blue and red shield with a hint of Tony's signature gearwork on the edges. 

His fingers are gentle, light curious brushes and Tony goes still under them, watching Rhodey's face and when he pulls away, asks, soft and shy the way he only ever is when they're alone, "Do you mind them?" 

"No," he says and it isn't a lie. 

He has never minded anything about Tony. 

 ~*~ 

The marks belong to Steve Rogers and James Barnes. The greatest--most tragic--soul-bound lovers in history. And Tony wears their marks, bright and brilliant and tragic. 

Soulmarks are a claim, a belonging, but they weren't a promise. 

They were never that.

But he loved Tony Stark,  illogically and fiercely.

 ~*~

 Loving Tony wasn’t easy. 

It was fighting his self destructive tendencies, dragging him from labs to sleep and from sleep to class, it was sitting at Howard Stark’s table and smiling without punching the bastard in the face and holding Tony after, when he was drunk and weeping furiously. 

It was watching him fuck his way through half the university and doing nothing to stop him. 

But sometimes it was easy. Listening to him babble about robots and AI’s, about holograms and programming that made his head spin. Building rockets together and fighting about the best way to improve them, to improve planes. Watching bad TV while Tony listened with his head pillowed on Rhodey’s thigh, hair soft under his fingers, a hand wrapped around Rhodey’s ankle, possessive and grounding and gentle. 

Loving Tony wasn’t easy--but when sleepy brown eyes blinked at him, bright and brilliant and soft in the way Tony ever was with him, Rhodey couldn’t help but think it was worth it. 

 ~*~ 

 There were a lot of people in and out of Tony's bed. People who didn't care about the marks on his arms, the ones that didn't want anything but a good time and a story to tell. He never minded those people because they took the good times and the presents that meant nothing and vanished into nothing. 

But there were others.  

Tiberius Stone with his cold cold eyes greedy gripping hands and the mark on his ankle that Tony swore was his. 

There was Sunset with her beautiful smiles and the delicate purr in her voice when she said marks didn't matter. 

There was the parade of hopefuls tattooing Tony's marks on their own arms, nevermind that wasn't how soul marks worked. 

They weren't matched sets--they were brands of ownership. Tony carried the brands of dead men and whatever the hell his own mark looked like, he didn't know and never would. His soulmates died before he was born. 

"You could wear mine," Tony says one drunk night after Ty has vanished with the payoff Obie shoved at him. 

"What even would that look like?" Rhodey asks, and Tony blinks vodka blurry eyes.

 ~*~ 

 He thinks, if he ever wore Tony's mark on his skin, he'd want it to be his mark as much as Tony's. He'd want to belong and own, claim and be claimed. 

But that's not how marks work and he tucks it down deep, where it can't taunt and tease with what he can't have. 

 ~*~ 

 They kiss, once. 

It's a memory he takes out, shakes out and examines, in the years after--a shiny diamond of perfection so rough and sharp it cuts. 

But in the moment--in the moment JARVIS is a soft unfamiliar hum around and above them and Howard's expectations are a distant worry and Tony is bright with a joy so pure and untouched it makes him ache and when they collide, it's like waves coming together, all fierce and giving and wrapping into each other and Tony is giddy in his arms and his mouth is red and chapped and wide open laughing and 

They kiss. 

Because in that moment he can't imagine doing anything else.

In that moment, and every other moment, he wants this. They kiss and it's wild and electric and soft and gentle. They kiss and Tony whimpers under his lips and licks into his mouth and leans up into him, hands hard and begging and he pulls away first. 

They kiss and the best part isn't Tony's lips or taste or hands. Its the look, soft and dazed and trusting when he smiles up at Rhodey after. 

They kiss--and Tony is his for a heartbeat. 

 ~*~

 He crosses the room in conversation with his CO, ignoring the bustle and chatter of the airmen at their leisure. He tunes most of it out, these days--years of living on bases and in general quarters and hip deep with fifty men has given him the ability to tune out almost everything. 

Not the voice, cocky and smug, on the TV. 

He's never been able to tune out Tony. 

He looks up, a second spared, and drinks him in. Thinner, and tired around the eyes, his hair slicked back and tame in that way Rhodey loathes, too expensive suit. 

He looks like, sounds like, Howard in miniature and it makes his stomach turn. 

Rhodey answers his CO, follows him from the room. It's the first glimpse he's had of Tony for two years, the last he'll have for another six months and it leaves him shaking and achy and furious all over again.

 ~*~ 

 He gets the news when he’s in Philly and he’s on the road in ten minutes. It takes him just over two hours to get to New York, a trip that should take almost three hours, and he still feels impatient, fury and fear crawling under his skin as he slams into the house. 

Tony is in his arms before he can speak, before he can say, I’m so sorry, or what can I do, or any of the other useless things he thought up on the too long drive. Tony is in his arms and Stane is glaring and he’s shaking, and Rhodey’s arms tighten around him, and he whispers, “I’m here, baby. I’m here.” 

He doesn’t leave. Not during the drinking, not during the storm of tears, not during the furious destruction of Howard’s office or the shower he has to help Tony with or dressing him for the funeral, or any of the bullshit that follows. 

He stays close, and he wonders if the wings on his wrist are those of a guardian angel, because he would. 

He would stand between Tony and the world, spread his wings and protect him forever, if only Tony would let him. 

 ~*~ 

 He hates Steve Rogers. 

The man pushes, prods, judges and dismisses, and Tony--Tony stares at him, like this man is the whole world, and Rhodey hates him. 

He sees it once, the marks on Rogers’ arms--the black star with red and gold cracks. And the one on his other arm, a mandala of gear work and twisting metal and he recognizes it, sees Tony’s arc reactor in the twisting turning pieces and layers and it’s so heartbreakingly perfect and right it makes him violent. 

He hates it, seeing Tony’s mark on someone who doesn’t want him. 

Because this is what they don’t talk about, with soulmates--it’s a brand, a claim of ownership, and it’s not a guarantee. 

Tony never talks to Steve, about the mark he covers, never presses for a relationship Rogers doesn’t want. 

He covers his own marks, and his eyes are dimmer, sadder, and he leans into Rhodey, sometimes, after Steve leaves, but he never talks about it. 

 ~*~ 

 “I wish you could fly with me,” Rhodey tells him, when they’re young and stupid and he thinks it will always be easy, being with Tony. Before they fight over SI and the Air Force, before the years of silence, before everything. 

Tony traced his wings, his heart mark and it wasn’t strange--it was normal, natural, completely fine to trust Tony with this piece of himself. “I will, one day.” 

He didn’t know, then, that it was a promise. 

But he looks at the Iron Man suit and he sees them, flying together. 

He puts on the War Machine armor and they do. 

Tony traced his wings, when they were young and stupid and didn’t know any better, and now, they fly together, with wings that Tony built for him, and he loves him, loves him, loves him. 

Heart marks are you, and he isn’t sure if his wings are those of a guardian angel or a fighter pilot or the avenging warrior but he thinks--whatever they are, he is what Tony has made him. 

 ~*~

 Tony grins at him, over debriefs and busy rooms, and Rhodey smirks back and races him to the suits. 

Rhodey sees the hurt and grief in Tony’s eyes, when Steve turns away from him, and he tugs Tony into the suit, and they fly. Race each other across the endless blue, soaring so high he thinks they could touch the empty black, and plunging down, listening to each other’s laughter and shrieks and steady heartbeats and Tony is there, always, pulling him out of a endless dive before he can crash into the earth. 

Tony chases him higher and follows him when he falls, and Rhodey thinks--they have each other, and they will always be safe. 

Tony will never let him fall. 

 ~*~ 

 He can’t speak, only smiles for the cameras and his CO and the airmen and the weight of the bar on his chest is choking and crushing, and he can’t speak. 

The words he can’t say tremble behind clenched teeth and tight pressed lips, until he stumbles into Tony’s workshop and a smile, guileless and bright and so fucking pleased, beams up at him, and he--he doesn’t speak. 

He doesn’t speak. 

He screams. 

 ~*~ 

 It’s still new and raw, this thing where they can work together. He stands stiff at Tony’s side, head pounding, and it feels not quite right, the way it has always felt to stand at Tony’s side for SI and the military, when all he has ever wanted was to stand at Tony’s side, with no strings or motivations, just them. 

It’s new and it’s raw and it’s what he wanted, when they were kids and young enough to want things, this, serving as the liaison between the military and SI, and it’s never sat right. 

He thinks of that night, of shouts and threats and ultimatums and screaming, and walking out, and Tony’s furious tears. 

He closes his eyes and smiles and congratulates Tony when the missile works perfect, and it doesn’t sit right, there is something wrong buzzes under his skin  like a bee and his marks itch. 

He smiles weakly when Tony sends him to a different Humvee and then the world explodes. 

 ~*~ 

 They get drunk, after Steve finally tells Tony, flat out and undeniable, no.

Rhodey wasn’t in New York for it, but he gets Pepper’s call, frantic, and flies out immediately. He lands on the roof of Stark Tower and pulls Tony into his arms and the other man is crying, these big silent tears, soundless sobs that shake him in Rhodey’s arms. 

It always shocks him, how small Tony is in his arms, when he has always felt larger than life. 

He holds him until the tears slow and stop and then they drink, cheap whiskey and bottom shelf tequila, the only goal the sweet oblivion of intoxication, and when he’s tipsy and leaning on Rhodey’s legs, head tipped back at the sky, Tony asks, “Why doesn’t he love me?” 

There’s an answer. A real one, about marks and destiny and fate and choice, and he should probably say it. 

He thinks, even stone cold sober, he wouldn’t. 

He says, “Because he’s a fucking idiot.” 

Tony blinks at him, blurry beautiful broken. “Anyone who doesn’t love you? A fucking idiot, baby.” 

 ~*~ 

 He screams until he’s got nothing left to say, and Tony screams back, all righteous fury and indignant disbelief, and he storms out. 

It’s different from their other fights. 

It feels different, and profound, and insurmountable. 

He storms out and it feels like leaving, like leaving. 

Pepper is standing upstairs, pale faced and trembling and he pauses. 

She’s all he’ll have, if Rhodey goes. It’s a terrifying thought. “Let me see your heart mark,” he says, brusque and somewhere in Philadelphia his mama is having a heart attack over his lack of manners. 

Two spots of pink color Pepper’s cheeks, but he waves a brisk hand, and she carefully unbuttons her blouse, pulls it aside to bare the mark on her left collarbone. 

It’s a pale pink, almost bleeding into the skin it’s so unobtrusive. Filigree metalwork in a delicate anatomical heart. 

He stares at it for so long Pepper huffs and drags her shirt to rights, buttons it up and Rhodey blinks at her. 

“Take care of him,” he chokes and then he leaves. 

~*~ 

The truth is--and this is a truth he doesn’t talk about, doesn’t tell anyone. It’s enough that he knows and Tony knows and neither of them ever speak of it--the truth is. He loves Tony. 

The truth is, he wants Tony on his skin. He sees Steve’s mark and Barnes’, sees Tony’s on Rogers’ skin and he hates it, hates them, and he aches for that metal work mandala. He aches for Tony, etched indelible and irremovable and permanent into his skin. 

He loves Tony and he thinks--if they wore each other’s marks, maybe Tony would love him too. 

He loves Tony and he thinks, viciously pleased, that Tony loves him and not because ink on their skin demanded it. Tony chose him, the way he had never chosen Barnes or Rogers. 

 ~*~ 

 They fuck, once.

Just the once. 

It’s in the five year stretch when they barely speak, shoved together only by the military and SI and circumstances neither can control. 

Rhodey thinks it’s because they’ve gone so long without the other, that they finally break. 

Stane vanishes during the aftermath of a successful weapons demonstration, off with Rhodey’s CO to negotiate prices or logistics or whatever the hell they chattered about that ended with Stark missiles in DOD hands. 

And they were left together, strangers who knew too much about each other, a strange and uncomfortable kind of intimacy. 

They drank, but not so much that he could blame it on that. 

They talked, but not so serious he could blame it on that. 

They walked, together, and at the door to his private bunk that was miles below what Tony was used to, what he had never in all the time Rhodey had known him complained about, Tony looked at him and said, “I miss you, Rhodes.” 

It was that. 

The way he said it, the way he shaped his name, the name Tony never used. 

It was that. 

He kissed Tony, hard and hungry and begging and Tony--Tony bent to it, sweet and pliant the way he had always dreamed Tony would be, biting and hungry the way he knew he’d be. 

He pushed Tony into his little room, onto his tiny, creaky bed, and sprawled across him, hungry and desperate and it was only Tony’s voice, begging and near tears that made him stop, slow. 

“Please,” Tony whispered into the space between their mouths, breathing the words into Rhodey’s hungry lips. “Please, I want it to last.”

“How long?” Rhodey whispered, and it felt like begging and his body flashed hot and desperate when Tony whimpered, wordless, against his mouth, an answer to honest to be spoken. 

They fucked, or maybe they made love, or maybe it was both. 

They shared that tiny creaky bed and Tony rode him, tears bright in his eyes, mark bloody and stark and open to his gaze, and Rhodey whispered into his hair, when Tony was asleep, sprawled sticky across his chest, whispered the words he wasn’t brave enough to say aloud. 

“I love you. Only you.” 

 ~*~ 

 He didn’t have a soulmark. 

He didn’t want one. 

He thought, sometimes, that he couldn’t have one--he had given his soul to Tony Stark too long ago to share it with anyone else. 

 ~*~ 

 Tony goes to DC after SHIELD falls, when the Potomac is still a mess of burning wreckage, when the Pentagon is scrambling and Congress is screaming for answers and SHIELD is trying desperately to put their burning house out while Natasha rained fire and fury, a life of shattered promises and betrayal, down like an avenging angel. 

Tony goes to DC, Rhodey flying at his side, because they aren’t together, Tony and Rogers, but they are soulmates, are marked into each other’s skin, and he can’t not go. 

He goes alone, into that crowded hospital room where Steve Rogers lays too big in a narrow bed, and he comes out, and Rhodey--

Rhodey looks at him, at the shock on his friend’s face, the way he is pale and drawn and trembling, and it doesn’t match the radiant smile on Steve’s face, that he is doing nothing to hide. 

Rhodey draws Tony into his arms and holds him, shuddering, as the hospital bustles around them and Steve Rogers grins like a man given a second shot at life, and Tony--Tony never cries. He just shakes, a fine full body shiver that makes Rhodey furious and worried and ache. 

He trembled, just like this, when his parents died, and when Rhodey found him in the desert. 

“Tell me,” he coaxes, because there is nothing he would not face, nothing he would not hear, for Tony. That he would not share, with Tony. 

Tony’s lips are hot against his throat and his fingers are wrinkling his uniform and he doesn’t cry, not once. “Barnes. He’s still alive.” 

 ~*~ 

 His mama told him that grief marks people. 

Not the way heart marks and soulmarks do, not even the fading fleeting marks made by friends and family and life. 

Grief marked you in a way that was harder to notice, not ink in the skin, but shadows on the soul. It was easy to hide, and easy to ignore. 

He never understood that, not really, not until Tony. 

Grief marked Tony in thousand dollar ties, knotted to perfection. Shiny shoes and tailored suits and sunglasses, ridiculous and over the top. 

He wore it in girls on his arm and boys in his bed and stains on his hands, blood and oil both, and exhaustion in his beautiful eyes and a smile that never reached his lips. 

As well as he knew Tony, as much as he loved him--it took years, for him to see the way that grief marked him, the way it was writ large in his exuberant sarcastic wit and hidden deep in his brilliance and inventions and only ever shed, truly banished for the space of a few hours, when Tony smiled at Rhodey, and laughed with Pepper and the world felt very far away. 

Maybe, he thinks, watching Tony sleep, it isn’t the world that is far away--maybe they are far from the world. 

 ~*~

 Sam Wilson doesn’t have a soulmark. He has a heart mark that Rhodes sees in snatches and half-caught glimpses, silver and blue and red whisps and swirls. He doesn’t ask, because he does have some manners and you don’t ask about people’s heart marks. 

He likes Sam, though. 

Likes that he’s friendly and loyal and steady, grounding compared to Steve and all his shit, compared to Bucky Barnes and his violence. 

Sam revolves around Steve, around Bucky by extension, and he doesn’t have a mark--not even a fleeting Life Mark--that makes him Steve’s but he is. 

Not because Steve is writ into his skin, but because he loves Steve, pure and simple and complicated. 

Rhodey likes Sam, because he understands that kind of loyalty, that kind of devotion. He’s lived it for longer than Wilson has been alive.   

 ~*~ 

 He tells Tony he loves him. 

It’s easy, a currency he has no problem spending because this is endless, his love for Tony. 

He tells Tony he loves him when they’re idiots, young and dumb and still in college. He tells him when he holds Tony after the funeral, shaking and sobbing. 

He spits it with curses when he drags Tony home from the bar, when he cleans up the mess Ty left behind, when he falls into Rhodey’s bed and curls close, drunk and sobbing. 

He murmurs it when they’re happy and screams it when they fight, and chokes on it when they don’t speak for five long years. 

He doesn’t say it, after Afghanistan, but he doesn’t need to, doesn’t need paltry words that will never convey everything he feels. 

And when Steve runs, chases Bucky for years while Tony fights his demons and sobriety and all the people who say he isn’t enough, the Avengers are not enough--he says it. 

“I will always love you,” he murmurs. 

Tony curls in his arms and he thinks, there was a time Tony didn’t believe him. 

He does,  now. 

 ~*~

 He arrests Steve, in a European city falling apart, and there’s something viciously pleased, petty and small and undeniable, seeing Steve Rogers in custody, seeing Barnes locked away. 

These men who never wanted the one thing he can’t live without. 

He arrests them and it all goes to hell. There’s a moment, when Tony faces off with the Winter Solider in nothing but a three-piece suit and a back-up gauntlet that Rhodey thinks his heart actually stops. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Tony says. They’re waiting, hovering in the air above a German airport and he’s giving Rhodey an out. 

Since the day they met, Tony has been giving Rhodey an out. 

“I’m not doing this because I have to,” he says. “I’m doing this because I’ve had your back in every bar brawl and fight you’ve gotten yourself into since you were fourteen. I’m  not going to back down now.” 

Tony doesn’t say anything, but then--he doesn’t need to. 

The fight is vicious, brutal. 

Steve and Barnes are running and like he can’t quite help himself, Tony is chasing and Rhodey is a step behind, desperate to protect him, because Tony has never had a lick of sense when it comes to the men inked into his soul. 

When he falls--

When he falls, he says, “Tony.” 

When he falls, he hears Tony’s scream, and he thinks, no, no, god no, don’t make me leave him. 

He says, “Tony,” like a prayer, like a benediction and plea and prayer and he falls. 

 ~*~

 “You’re in my spot,” Tony says. There are dried tear-tracks on his face, and he looks beautiful and like hell and he’s bitching and Rhodey knows what that means. 

“About time we switched it up.” There have been too many times he’s stood at the bedside and watched Tony, broken and bleeding.  

Tony makes a noise that starts as a laugh and hitches into a sob, and Rhodey pulls him close, holds him as Tony cries. 

“You fucking idiot,” he weeps and Rhodey makes a soft noise of agreement. “You should have gone home.” 

“I was where I wanted to be,” he murmurs, and kisses Tony’s hair. “I’m always where I want to be, when I’m at your side.” 

“Fucking idiot,” he says. 

“You love me,” Rhodey teases, loopy on the good drugs and Tony’s face goes soft the way it does, when he’s very honest. 

“I do.” 

 ~*~ 

 His heart mark is gunmetal wings, spread on his wrists, and he knew, always, that the sky belong to him. 

He loves it, loves flying, but there is nothing quite like flying with Tony. Soaring across wide open blue, chasing each other and hearing that delighted laugh in his ear, and the gasp Tony makes, when Rhodey nudges him, wraps around him and plunges toward the ground, a free fall that is broken only when Tony throws out his hands and spins them back toward the never-ending sky. 

He flies and they fall, together. 

Tony asks, once, curious, eyes bright, if it scared him, to fall with him. 

Rhodey laughed and shook his head, “I’ve been falling with you most of my life, Tones. It’s always going to terrify me, but not the way you think.” 

“How, then?” 

Rhodey shrugs. “You know that moment when we’re falling and your stomach is flipping and you know you’re safe but you feel more alive than any other time in your life?” 

Tony nods and Rhodey smiles. “That’s how you always make me feel.” 

 ~*~ 

 He comes back from Siberia, brought back by Peter and Happy and FRIDAY. He comes home broken, bleeding and heartbroken in a way that he wasn’t even after Afghanistan and DC. 

He comes home beaten. 

Peter scoots their hospital beds together and Rhodey twists their fingers together, and wishes he could hold him, when Tony stares, blank and dry-eyed. 

“I don’t want them,” he says, finally. “I’m done wanting my soulmates to love me.” 

 ~*~ 

 There are marks--soulmarks and heart marks and life marks--that are deep and abiding and written into the soul, that define the person they mark. 

He has gunmetal wings, delicately articulated metal arches, on his wrists--Tony was marked into his soul, into who he was, before he ever dreamed of soulmarks. 

And Tony was never writ into his skin with fleeting life marks--but he didn’t need to be. 

He wishes, sometimes, that Tony wore his soulmark--but he thinks, this, this isn’t so bad. Tony in his bed, his smile bright and welcoming in the workshop, his mouth open and wet and panting for him, and the marks he wears on his skin--bloody metal shrapnel that means he survived, that he will survive, will always come home, the mark of two loves who rejected him, and still his heart beats, full of love, the life marks that Peter and Happy and his bots and Pepper all leave in his skin, a life full and happy and good--they don’t define him. They tell a story, but Tony--Tony defines himself. 

 ~*~ 

 Tony shows it to him, when they’re laying in bed. Rhodey’s fingers are pulling, druggingly slow, through his hair, and he’s considering the advantages of the man he loves, naked in his arms, and mourning the refractory period of his youth and Tony says, “What do you think of this?” 

He blinks, because it doesn’t immediately make sense. 

It focuses slowly. 

Wings. Gunmetal grey and scarlet, edged in gold. Made of delicate metal work and gears, turning in a eye-defying mandala. 

He stares at it, this beautiful mark that is both of them, and Tony says. “I want to get them. Your wings and my mark--I want them.” 

He doesn’t speak, can’t speak, just leans down and kisses him, desperate and begging and adoring. 

 ~*~ 

 The tattoo is beautiful, delicate and intricate and breathtaking. It sprawls across his hip, a wide arch of metal and wings that he can’t help but touch. 

He gets the same tattoo, places them on his forearms, where Tony carries the soulmarks of Rogers and Barnes. 

“It’s better,” he says. “That we chose each other.” 

Tony smiles, gentle and brilliant and Rhodey draw him close, kisses him, soft and sure. “I’ll always choose you. 

[jamesbarnesappreciationsociety]

Jessica Barnes: Jr. CEO (One Shot)

Summary: This is the cutest company takeover in history.

Pairing: CEO Daddy! Bucky Barnes x OC: Jessica Marie Barnes

Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson

Scott Lang and Peter Parker

Word Count: 1,879

Warnings: Angst; fluff

A/N: @stevieang, thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to beta read for me. Your insight is greatly appreciated.

Exquisite Designs, a commercial architectural firm owned by longtime friends James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers, boasted some of New York’s wealthiest clients. For over 17 years, the firm built some of the most elegant office buildings dotting the skyline in New York City.

Their number one client is Stark and Wilson Land Development. The firm was currently working on the Howard and Maria Stark wing of Mt. Sinai hospital" It was a 24-7 project with big deadlines, big pressure, and big payoff. This project held a special place in Bucky’s heart. His wife, Lillian, died from a brain aneurysm, leaving behind an adorable daughter with rich brown hair like her father and hypnotic amber eyes identical to her late mother.

Her frail body lay in the lovely king size sleigh bed. Different hues of blues dotted the sheets, comforter and blanket. Blue is her favorite color. James Buchanan Barnes, held his wife Lillian’s dainty hand. He knew her time on Earth was drawing to an end. Sunken eyes turned towards her husband whispering, “Please promise me, you’ll live for Jess.”

“Don’t know how to do that without you, Doll.” Bucky wiped the steady stream of tears from his face. 

With a faint smile on her face, Lillian Marie Barnes closed her eyes. Shoulders shaking, Bucky sobbed openly, kissing her hand. “I love you, Lillian. I’ll do my best for Jess.”

Steve heard his best friend crying. He then realized, his “Lillie Bug” was gone. Trying to explain to a 3 year old that her mommy was gone, Steve put it this way. “Munchkin’, ya remember when your daddy told ya that mommy would go to sleep forever?” 

Jess nodded ‘yes.’ “Daddy said mommy was Sleeping Beauty, but the Prince couldn’t wake her up. So, she’ll be in Heaven watching out for us. Is she an Angel now, Uncle Stevie?”

“Yeah, Lillie Bug is an Angel.” Jess crawled in her uncle’s lap, “I’m sad.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” Burying her face in Steve’s massive chest, Jess cried herself to sleep. 

Following Lillian’s memorial service, Bucky spiralled into deep depression. No longer able to care for her, Jess mourned the loss of her mommy and daddy. Signing temporary control of Exquisite Designs to his best friend, Bucky sought the nurturing spirit of Lillian’s parents, Raymond and Bethany. They agreed to keep their granddaughter as long as needed. Unable to understand why she wasn’t with her daddy, Jess often cried, becoming clingy. 

Three months later, Steve kicked his friend in the ass, explaining Jess longed for her daddy. Losing her mother had taken a toll on her young life, now she needed him to get it together. 

Realizing Steve was right, Bucky planned a father/daughter vacation to Maui. As you would imagine, Jessica was delighted. Boarding his private jet, the duo made their way to crystal clear water, sugar white sandy beaches, for a chance to reconnect with his daughter. Tucked away in his luggage were photo albums, holding page after page of heartwarming memories.

Sitting in Bucky’s lap, Jess wiped the tears cascading down Bucky’s face. “Daddy, don’t be sad. Mommy is in Heaven. She can see us, just look up.” 

Turning her gaze towards a cloudless sky, Jess baby girl smiled and whispered,“Mommy told me to take care of you.” 

“Thank you Jess. I Iove you so much. Please forgive me for not spending time with you. Your momma was my world. Following her death, life just wasn’t the same. I neglected the one person who needed me the most; YOU!”

“Daddy, it’s okay.” Her face was sincere and her words showed the goodness deep within.

“No baby, it’s not. From now on, I’ll take more time off.” 

Her face lit up like a carnival in the night. “Really?? Yippee!”

Upon returning home, Bucky thought of a wonderful way to honor his wife’s memory. He approached Steve about plans for “The Lillian Marie Barnes Child Care Center.” A free center for all employees of the firm.  Parents could be there at the beginning, middle, and end of the day and didn’t have to worry about their little ones while at work. The age limits were: infants 6 months - 1 years old and children 2- 4 years old. Employees, as you could imagine, were ecstatic. 

Since “The Howard and Maria Stark Children’s Wing” was on schedule, Peter Parker, Director of Marketing, pitched an idea to Bucky. 

Gathered around the spacious cherrywood table were upper management and their executive assistants. Facilitating the meeting, Peter laid out his plans for “Kids Takeover the Firm Day.” “I thought it would be fun to take a day off and let the kids run the company. We’ve worked extremely hard to meet all our deadlines and it’s been accomplished.” Everyone listened attentively.

“Have you decided on a date?” Bucky leaned on the table.

“How about this Saturday? The phone lines won’t be operational just in case one of the kids decides to call out, and our answering service would alert us if they received calls that weren’t caught by one of us.”

Bucky added, “You might be onto something Peter. I’m sure they would love to dress up and  play Junior Executives for a day.”

Nat and Clint’s twins, Mason and Jason, would serve as Jr. Executive Assistants to the Jr. CEO.

Steve agreed, “Jessica should serve as Jr. CEO.” 

Bucky couldn’t believe his ears. “Are you sure? I don’t want any favoritism.”

“She’d make a great Junior CEO!” Wanda’s eyes sparkled.

With this in mind, Bucky suggested taking the remainder of the day off. “Alright, let’s get the ball rolling. I have a little CEO to shop for.”

Bucky made his way to Jessica’s preschool class. She immediately sprinted to his arms.“Hi sweetheart. How’s my girl?” 

“I’m fine daddy. We learned our ABC’s and numbers!” Jess’ smile mimicked that of her mommy’s.  

“What? My goodness you’re smart!”  Bucky kissed  her cheek, nose and forehead before dropping the big news on her.

“Guess what? On Saturday, all the kids of the moms and dads that work for Daddy and Uncle Steve’s company get to be in charge for the day. Uncle Steve has promoted you to Junior Chief Executive Officer - the Big Boss.”You’ve been deemed Jr. CEO.”

Unable to contain her enthusiasm, Jess sprung up on her toes. Pumping her fists in the air, she jumped around declaring, “I’M THE BOSS...I’M THE BOSS!!!”

“Peanut, there’s more to being CEO than just saying you’re the boss. Remember that it’s important to always treat your employees with respect.”

“Okay daddy. I’ll be good.” 

“How about a shopping trip? You’ll need new clothes, a briefcase, and shoes!”  There wasn’t much his girl loved more than going shopping.  She was all in now.

“Let’s go!!!”

TIME FOR WORK

At 8:00 on the dot, decked out in her navy blue “suit” and carrying her briefcase and phone, Jessica Marie Barnes, Jr. CEO, reported for work. 

Natasha’s twins Mason and Jason, donned brown two-piece suits, cream shirts, and brown striped ties. Malachi Rogers sported a gray 3 piece suit, powder blue shirt, and solid tie. Wanda, Scott and Sam’s kids also looked razor sharp, in pastel dress shirts, dark pants, and black patent leather shoes. 

Parents and kids gathered in the small conference room. The kids couldn’t sit still, they were hyped to get the show on the road.

“I must admit, this is the best dressed staff in all of New York.” Bucky beamed, “Jessica, you have the floor.”

“Thank you Mr. Barnes. Good morning. My name is Jessica Barnes but you can call me Jess. It’s time for our morning meeting. Follow me to the small room.” 

Their parents laughed quietly and smiled as they filed out of the room.  How much trouble could 3 and 4 year olds get into? Yikes!

Parents applauded as Jess led her friends to another conference room set-up with breakfast sandwiches, fruit, pastry and juice boxes.

Munching on a sausage and biscuit, Malachi announced, “Okay, folks. We have a lot of work to do. There’s a meeting with people who want something built.” 

One little lady asked, “Mr. Grant, who?”  

Malachi replied, “I dunno let’s make something up.”

One factor forgotten, in the midst of their excitement of the day, the cuteness of the kids, someone forgot what could happen if kids consume copious amounts of S.U.G.A.R.  

Jess, Malachi, Mason and Jason wandered away from the others and ended up in one of the copy rooms. Mason, with wide-eyed wonder, suggested making copies of their faces. How they turned the machine on is one of life’s biggest mysteries. They took turns copying faces, arms and legs. Jason, however, took it one step further. He sat on the machine and took a picture of his bottom. 

Next, a group of 3-year-olds snuck into a few offices with sticky hands, pressing on the keyboards. Yep, they made a mess. 

Not to be left out, Jessica and her gang visited the employee break room. The refrigerator and lower cabinets were raided. They devoured chips, Christmas candy, and cookies leftover from an office meeting. 

Smeared on the pristine white walls were tiny chocolate handprints, water and orange juice got spilled onto the floor, and a few kids ate too much. The room was an absolute MESS.

Mason and Jason tried to clean up the spilled juice throwing paper towels on the floor. Malachi retrieved a mop, attempting to clean up.

Instead, he slipped, face first, soiling his new suit. Jessica, completely flustered, plopped on the floor in tears.

Leave it to the Moms in the room to hear what wasn’t being said.  Natasha and Wanda suddenly looked at each other and sprinted out of the room towards the suddenly-silent children.  They knew that quiet kids equaled disaster and were nauseous at the thought of what they might find.  All the parents ran and converged on the breakroom, stopped cold by what they found.  As they surveyed the damage. Bucky murmured, “What the hell happened in here?”

While he shook his head, most of the parents pulled out their phones to capture the moment.

The state of the room was nothing compared to the tired, messy children who were in varying stages of sugar crashes. Bucky looked at Steve, “We’re going to have to give the cleaning company a major bonus after this weekend. They’re going to think we left a zoo loose in here!”

Understanding the need for parents, as well as kids to recuperate, Steve suggested everyone take an extended weekend. Everyone accepted the gracious offer.  

“Kids Takeover the Firm Day” was a complete success. Jessica Barnes’ reign as CEO had come to an end. Sleeping soundly on her daddy’s black leather office sofa, Jess was visibly exhausted. Kissing her chubby cheek, Bucky moved a strand of hair from her forehead. In that moment, he felt Lillian’s presence. Wiping a wayward tear from his face, Bucky knew his wife would live on through Jessica Marie Barnes, Junior CEO.

Tagging: @stevieang @loricameback @mrsgoodnight @suz-123 @pegasusdragontiger

[artificialqueens]

Elastic Heart - Part 2 (Branjie) - Mia Ugly

Out of drag, Brock feels smaller. Vulnerable.  He knows he’s still a giant Canadian, but without Brooke’s stilettos and hip-pads he almost feels fragile.  Maybe fragile isn’t the right word, maybe it’s - ordinary.  He goes jogging along Cumberland River and no one notices him. He wears grey sweatpants and Tragically Hip t-shirts like camouflage and blends into whatever setting he’s in. He’s like wallpaper sometimes. People look right past him.

No one looks past Brooke Lynn.  They wouldn’t dare.

Not that he can’t turn a look when he wants to. When his friends drag him out to a club, he can usually find someone who isn’t too intimidated to pick him up, take him home.  He likes being anonymous sometimes (that probably sounds ungrateful, and God help him he never wants this ride to end, but he doesn’t always have the energy to be Brooke Lynn. Especially on his nights off.) 

Back in Nashville he texts Nina every time a new episode drops.  He forces himself to watch each one in public, in a crowded bar or group of noisy friends, sometimes he even hosts the damn watch-party.  At least with people on all sides of him (arms around him, buying him shots, hands on his back) he can’t fuck off without reason.  Can’t run out into the streets or scream without someone coming after him, making sure he’s okay.  So it’s better to do the watch-party thing.  Safer, at least.

“Your fucking face,” he texts Nina during the Monster’s Bal episodel.  On the flat-screen above the bar, Nina’s just taken off her mask and is grinning horrifically at the camera.

“Your fucking mom,” Nina texts back.  Class act, that one.

“Tell me you aren’t actually selling Branjie hats,” she adds a few seconds later. 

Brock shuts his eyes, swallows. His hands don’t shake as he texts back.

“4 charity u want 1?” 

Nina sends him a series of emojis that are just indecipherable enough to be insulting.  And maybe the hats were a cynical move but the proceeds really are going to charity.  It was all Brock’s agent’s idea, and they ran it by Vanessa of course but - the worst part is that Brock’s actually getting some fucked-up kind of relief from it.  From the people online who think the whole sad story was a publicity stunt.  It’s like, fine, that’s all it was, here’s a fucking hat.  You wanna buy a piece of our relationship? We accept Paypal. 

It’s easier to think about it this way, then - the other way. His hand on Vanessa’s chest, heartbeat singing warm and low beneath Brock’s palm.  That harsh, rowdy laugh across the werkroom, making Brock laugh in return no matter what he was doing, and then blush with embarrassment.

(“I’m your jush, hey?”Lips close to Vanjie’s ear, arms draped over her shoulders.

“Aw, bitch, what you want me to say?” Vanessa’s focused on her sewing, but she still gives a cautious glance upwards, smiling with the corners of her mouth. “You need a ring or some shit?”)

That line becomes a bit of a joke between them, though it hasn’t shown up in the episodes yet - and if there’s any justice in the universe it never will.

(“You need a ring or some shit?” after Vanjie wins a mini-challenge, reaching out for a hand to hold.

“You need a ring or some shit?” after Vanjie lip-synchs for her life and throws her arms around Brooke as soon as they’re off-stage, away from the judges and the harsh white lights, smelling like sweat and hairspray and baby powder and -)

Stop.

If Brock ever hears that question edited dramatically into a confessional, he might break a television with his knuckles.  

At the very least, throw a high-heel.

“Are you okay?” Nina texts, too high-achieving for slang or abbreviations.  She even uses punctuation like some sort of monster.

Brock puts his phone down, lets the drama play out on screen for once. Nina doesn’t need a response to the question.  She already knows the answer.

* * *

The first time they kiss, the cameras are not on them. 

Brooke wouldn’t have done that, wouldn’t have wanted to make it something sensational.  She knows there’s a limit to how cuddly they can be before the editors start building a story out of it, putting pieces together that will inevitably lead to some awful climax and a lot of think-pieces on Vulture. It’s best to keep - whatever it is behind Vanjie’s dark eyes - under wraps.

They’ve been trading glances across the werkroom but Brooke tells herself it doesn’t mean anything special. Vanjie is a legend, a rock star, and even though Brooke slays the first runway challenge (all hail Detox, Patron Saint of Latex, hallowed be Thy name) it doesn’t make her think she’s earned any extra notice from the other queens. Maybe a couple of shady glances here and there, but that’s to be expected.

And if she looks a bit too long at Vanessa Vanjie Mateo (all wrapped up in red silk, the sticky-sweet colour of maraschino cherries and candied apples) no one’s going to notice.  Vanjie’s fine as hell in and out of drag; you’d have to be blind not to stare at her.  

Brooke’s clearly only fooling herself because that first night (the fucking first night!) A’Keria slides up beside Brooke in line for craft services, pursing her lips.

“Oooh girl, you be careful.” 

“Why?” Brooke grabs some salad before it runs out. Fuck knows the P.A.s won’t order more of it. 

“Play innocent all you like, but I see you lookin’. Don’t be stupid, now.” A’Keria is too smart for her own good, and too damn cool to be chatting with Brooke over paper plates full of iceberg lettuce. “Any of those producers catch you, they’re gonna be all over it, know what I’m sayin’?”

“I don’t,” Brooke Lynn says, and A’Keria rolls her eyes. 

But Brooke knew.  And she really should have listened.

It’s after the “What’s Your Sign” runway (which Vanjie stomps like she owns it, dripping with red roses and a goddamn Libra, Jesus Christ - Brooke’s so predictable.) 

She takes off her paint and sneaks outside for a smoke break before the producers come to round them all up, pack ‘em into the van back to the hotel.  No one follows her.  The cameras usually leave a queen alone if she’s by herself (not enough drama to waste the film) and Brooke hurries to take advantage of that fact. 

The smoking area is just a nasty little square of pavement with a couple of chairs and an ashtray, but it’s quiet and Brooke can almost see the stars.  For a few moments she’s completely alone and after the chaos of shooting for sixteen hours – it’s nice.  Nice to not have to be “on.” Nice to just be.

And then the door creaks as it opens, and out walks Vanjie.  Back in boy clothes, but still a bit glittery.

“Hello, hello, hello Miss Brooke Lynn.”

Brooke exhales a laugh that tastes like ashes. “You don’t smoke.”

“Nah.” Vanjie sits down on a chair across from her. “But those girls take forever, I’m growing old watching them. Look, baby, I got wrinkles.” She turns her head from side to side, gesturing to (non-existent) lines at the corners of her eyes. 

Brooke wants to tell her she looks perfect, flawless, untouchable.  But she doesn’t. Instead she sucks on her cigarette, tells herself to be cool (for once.) “You were so good in the challenge. It was amazing.”

“I’m not a regular dad, I’m a cool dad.” Vanjie tugs at the shoulder of her hoodie with that low, rasping laugh of hers. “You weren’t so bad neither.”

Brooke shakes her head, old enough to know bullshit when she hears it. “Don’t even.  That voice - that whole character was a mistake.”

“Haha, well.  It was a choice, bitch, a choice. Good thing you turned it out on the runway.” Vanjie tilts her head back, looking up into the dark. “Hey, I can almost see stars. That’s a star, right?”

Brooke follows Vanjie’s pointing hand, but can’t make anything out besides smog.  She closes her eyes instead of looking at her any longer (sometimes looking at Vanessa is easy and sweet as breathing, and sometimes it’s like holding the palm of your hand over a candle) and thinks of how far away from home she is. Old homes, and new ones, and all the places in between that felt like home at the time. She thinks of how long it’s been since she’s seen winter, the sky going grey-gold with falling snow.

When Brooke opens her eyes, Vanjie’s watching her.

“Don’t go getting down on yourself, Miss Brooke Lynn,” she says. “Mama Ru will clock that self-doubt and come after you. She eats. That. Shit. Up.”

“Right. Jesus, you’re right.” Brooke concentrates on the glowing ember at the tip of her cigarette, and not the way the dim lights catch Vanjie’s cheekbones. “Anyway, how are you holding up? Feel different than last season?”

“Since it’s been a minute and I’m still here? Fuck yeah it feels different. Ha!” All the teasing electricity in her eyes goes soft, and Vanjie’s quiet for a moment. A smudge of glitter still sparkles at the hollow of her throat. “Shit, I can’t believe I’m back.  That they let me come back.  Shit.” 

“Fans would have rioted if they didn’t bring you back.” Brooke fills the air with smoke as she breathes.  “I certainly would have.”

“Yeah?” Vanjie raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I should start smoking, since y’all making it look so good. Sitting out here in the dark like a tall glass of Clearly Canadian.”

“I don’t think they even make that any more.”

“Know your history, bitch.”

Brooke laughs again, helpless in the face of so much charm. “You know you have glitter on you? Your neck. Just -”

She reaches out to wipe it away, but before she can make contact with skin, Vanjie’s hand catches hers. Holds. 

Brooke doesn’t move.  She isn’t generally a reckless person - she’s poised, efficient, ruthless. (She wants all those things to be true. She wants to be smarter than this. She wants to feel the pulse point beating in Vanjie’s wrist like a metronome.  She wants -) 

“Shoulda known you’d be a Pisces,” Vanjie says before she kisses her. 

(As kisses go - it’s in the Top Three of Brooke’s life.

Number One: hasn’t happened yet. That’ll come later, violins and roses and all that shit, payoff worth the wait and then some. 

Number Two: her first kiss.  First with a boy anyway - drunk and seventeen and gasping with the realization that she could have this. This was okay.  It was okay.

Number Three is Vanessa Vanjie Mateo, tasting like mint and still glittery, hand clutching tight to Brooke’s (who isn’t shaking, she isn’t.)  There’s a hint of tongue at the corner of her mouth, and it’s all Brooke can do not to clutch fistfuls of that hoodie and drag Vanjie against her.  Hold her tight.  Keep her close.  Brooke doesn’t know how she’ll ever manage to pry her hands away.)

Then the door creaks as it opens. 

Brooke has just enough self-control to pull back before Yvie’s coming out, digging into the pockets of her skinny jeans for a lighter and scowling.

Not looking up.  Not looking at them.

“We’ve apparently got five minutes to get to the van.  Christ, that paint did not want to come - oh.” She glances up. “Didn’t know you smoked, Vee.”

And Vanjie grins, showing the white of her teeth (“Ain’t I full of surprises, bitch?”) and Brooke swan-dives to the pavement, through the ground, clean through the centre of the earth. 

She was already half-way there, but fuck her life: she falls.

[nautiscarader]

The Dragon Prince - Season 2

It is very rare to see a show which has improved in nearly every aspect, but lo and behold, TDP season 2 delivers more. 

Just... more. 

More drama, more characters, more action, more humor, and more dark, complex, and mature storylines.

Spoilers galore beneath

First and foremost, I am very happy that the animation department has listened to our cries - the choppy animation is no more. The cell-shaded animation is odd, but it certainly no longer distracting from the action. And if you want to watch TDP season 2, then you need to pay attention to everything on the screen, because the things that happen on the screen are marvellous. 

The ongoing story, together with expanded flashbacks are excellent, and make the world believable and realistic. Wars do not happen in one day, they are the effects of years of conflicts, slowly building up, and the show has given us excellent reasons to believe and be invested in them.

Very few shows have created such interesting villains like this one. Soren, Claudia and their father, Viren aren’t just evil. They are not evil overlords and kidnappers - they are properly constructed characters with deep motivations. 

Viren is a pragmatist, who is slowly consumed by the dark magic, thus skewing his morals. His children follow his steps, though themselves start to realise he might be wrong, and yet come to the same reasoning as he did: that power can be used to overcome problems, even if it done in an immoral way.

Our protagonist grow up as well: I was mighty afraid that the show will do the “liar reveal” cliché between the brothers, or between Rayla and Callum, regarding the news of their father’s death, but fortunately, the writers have dodged the bullet on two occasions, because of proper build-up and the mountain of trust between the three (or four, since Claudia delivered it). The lessons they learned were deep, life-changing and not easy to swallow, and I think they accepting them will help kids all over the world. 

Speaking of difficult things to bear: Soren’s kinda-disability. the way it was handled was magnificent, albeit with Soren’s slightly awkward acceptance of it. But Claudia? She reacted just like you would if you were hit with such grave news. Characters in TV shows get slammed all over place without any bones breaking, but here? No, they did not joke. A dragon smashes you into a rock, you get a spine broken. End of story. On one hand, it would be interesting to see his character with the disability, but given he is a part of the cast, it would be problematic, I guess. And Claudia using Bambi’s life forces to revive his ability to walk might have even more dire consequences. Will she have to sacrifice more and more animals to keep him alive? Will the dark magic flowing through him corrupt him? Will Soren have to sacrifice his ability to walk in order to cleanse himself? Who knows, the possibilities are quite vast.  

Speaking of possessions: Callum and dark magic. That was something I wanted to see in S2, and I think it has been handled really well. Callum has potential to be a dark wizard, and while he has discovered his sky arcaneum, I have a feeling he will be tempted to dabble with dark magic in the future, breaking our hearts again.

And on top of that, you have relationships. Callum, Rayla and Ezran have very different connections to Soren and Claudia, as, say, Team Avatar to Zuko and Azula. 

Callum and Ezra were - and arguably are - friends with Claudia and Soren, they do have strong bonds (in case Callum and Clauida something even stronger), since they’ve known each other since childhood. It is not just a hero/villain cliché - they are, once again, well-defined characters, and as a result their relationships are strong, well-grounded and believable.

And the hugs between Rayla and Callum are melting all of shippers’ hearts, I cannot overlook that (but still no kiss, or almost kiss yet, but have almost had “I love you”).

The action is superb. Fight scenes are fast, well-planned, and gripping, exactly what you’d expect from a fantasy series. 

And of course, with a whole new half of continent to explore, as well as half a dozen plot lines in the human half to resolve, new seasons will have tons of opportunities to once again punch us in the gut, make us laugh, cry and be thrilled.

So, are there any negative aspects...?

Well... yeah.

One thing that is kinda unavoidable, are the parallels to Avatar The last Airbender. From occasional jokes and subtle nods, like with the haiku and syllables counting, through slightly more transparent like the animal hybrids, through bloody-freaking-obvious, like Callum being an airbender. Or sky mage, or whatever you name them here. It is pretty weird to see this happening again, since, well, it invokes the parallels to ATLA instantly, and let’s face it, ATLA is still better, so you might not necessarily want to remind us of a show we’d rather watch, Dragon Prince. 

Another one is Ezran’s character. Mind you, he got better in S2, especially with the revelation of his father becoming a spirit birb hybrid dying forever, but he is just a bit bland and too perfect for a 10-year old. I joked about it in my recaps, but he is jesus - he can do no wrong. And that is bloody boring! Look at Callum - he has flaws, he makes mistakes, that’s what makes him complex. And what does Ezran do? He goes off-track and can’t even get himself mauled by a banther properly. Get rekt.

He reminds me of Charlie from Tim Burton’s Charlie and the Chocolate factory - that kid was freaking perfect, without any flaws whatsoever, spewing moralistic phrases left, right and center, contrary to the one from the book and the classic movie. 

Plus, his abilities are never explained, and are so damn plot convenient! It is one thing to just having a skill of handling animals - that I would accept - another thing is being able to understand them - that’s a bit too much, but still cool - and something wildly different is TO HAVE A DIRECT MIND LINK WITH THEM. Ezran is OP, pls nerf. And the worst thing is, with just a bit of clever rewriting, they wouldn’t need that. Just move the splitting scene after they cross the moonpath bridge - so that Ezran is still with Zim when he has to fly to save them. Solved.

I guess you can make a counter-argument that he also learns it, just like Callum does with magic, but guess what: Callum makes mistakes, so we see he learns! I would like to see Ezran mistranslating some wild animal’s wish and getting comeuppance when he has to run up the tree. I KNOW! BRING THE TAFFY HIPPO FROM HIS DREAM! YES! HE WILL BE HIS SPIRIT TEACHER! Ekhm, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, Ezran’s unexplained abilities.  

In fact, I think so far TDP kinda delivered a disappointing deus-ex-machina payoffs in both seasons: mind link in S2 and Zim’s magic-breaking teeth in S1 allowing Reyla to have her hand. I was slightly disappointed then, and I was slightly disappointed now.

But I am willing to forgive it. Because quite literally anything else in the series is top-notch. The characters, for the most part, are complex and three-dimensional. The decisions they take are not simple and black-and-white. The villains are superb and blood-freezing, being able to scare you from the screen. They have added just enough Azula and Ozai juice to Viren and Aavaros to make them menacing and entertaining to watch. I love it.

On more than a few occasions the show has caught me off-guard and surprised me with its decisions, and I cannot wait for more of them. 

[novantinuum]

Together in Wanting

Read on AO3, comments and kudos there appreciated

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: T

Words: 2700~

Pairings: Fiddauthor

Story Summary: Ford overanalyzes every aspect of his strengthening crush on his roommate, and Fiddleford finally makes a move. (Content warning for some brief internalized homophobia.)

Very much inspired by an early RP with @the-ill-doctor, and my personal envisioning of how Ford and Fiddleford initially got together in our RP stuff. No context of that is needed to enjoy this, though. :D 

It only took the better part of a semester for thoughts of Fiddleford to become hopelessly and inseparably entangled within his mind. Like a single, minuscule spot of ink spilled on thick parchment— the property of capillarity pulling it through each and every layer, pigment spreading so deep one might never hope to separate the two again— whatever bewitching influence the man had unknowingly cast on him had grown and grown and created...

He shifted restlessly under his sheets, stealing away what were likely the last possible shreds of warmth his ratty bedding had to offer.  

Well...

It certainly created something new, Ford thought, anxiety buzzing deep through his bones. Something that wasn’t supposed to happen, not to him, not here. And yet, ignoring every hesitant voice that echoed at his peripherals instructing— no, demanding— that he come to his senses least trouble find him, something beautiful. Truth be told, he’d never experienced anything like this before, this... level of inexplicable attachment to another person. It was as intoxicating as it was infuriating. Here he stood, bottom of the pecking order— a college freshman, and one who didn’t have a lick of spare time to dedicate to paltry, fanciful matters such as these— and he just had to choose to be sweet on his own one-and-a-half-year older roommate!

Well, not that he had any choice in the matter. If it were up to choice, he’d probably have jumped ship that fated day he noticed all his thought patterns inevitably looping back around to that warm hearted, gregarious, confidence-for-miles southern genius. With every nervous flutter he felt within, it was almost maddening. Almost, if not for the payoff he received whenever he responded to his puns with an even dorkier one (Hey Fidds, what kind of ghosts haunt the chemistry lab? Methylated spirits) and his roommate’s laugh rang out loud and free.

Dear god, he loved the sound of his laugh. The breathy twang of his voice as he sang along with his banjo, as off key as it was. Hah, and to think he once scorned all of Fiddleford’s southern quirks...! What changed his mind? What became different in the four months they’d coexisted together, since that first day when Ford foolishly almost wrote him off as a brainless southern hick?

Oh, he remembered that day so vividly he could nearly recount the exact emotions that filtered through his being at every turn. When he first met Fiddleford Hadron McGucket, he hated him. He was utterly furious, because he was so low strung about everything, and so folksy, and taking up space in what was supposed to be his single dorm, his sanctuary from the rest of the world, but thanks to a housing mishap became sanctuary to two. He fell right into the insidious trap of judging him by mere appearance, right into blatant hypocrisy. The guilt he still felt for that was palpable, pressing down upon him like lead. Hopefully one day he’d find the right moment to apologize.

Still, it was all too unimaginable.

How could he possibly have known then what he knew now? That he’d fudge his first set of final exams and receive a few A minuses because he, Stanford F. Pines, couldn’t stop thinking about a man? Or that he’d be friends with him to begin with, after bemoaning over him ceaselessly to Ma that first week on the phone? What if he explored this the way he would with one of his experiments, conducted an unbiased scientific query focused on the origin of human romantic interactions within the temporal lobe of the brain? Could he ever pinpoint the moment, the precise variable, that sent that first ripple of nervous energy through his chest? Was it the day Fidds commented on a sketch of his DD&MD character and called them ruggedly handsome, not knowing that Ford based this elven sorcerer on himself? (Or did he know??) Maybe it was the first time he casually rest a hand on his shoulder— an action likely as natural as anything to someone from the tactile South, but entirely foreign to him. Or perhaps it was when they found a common interest in tinkering and stayed up until three am building an alarm clock Rube Goldberg would be proud of out of a busted toaster, some notebook spirals they salvaged from the trash, and an oven mitt?

How many hypotheses could he forge?

He shivered in the bitter January chill, his blankets no longer appropriate protection from the elements. He tilt his neck to catch a glimpse of his roommate, eyes squeezed closed and breathing evenly in the bed across the small dorm. The distance between them was only a few feet at most, but it might as well have been impenetrable. Ford sighed wearily, laying limp on his back, as if the weight of a loss he hadn’t yet experienced had already settled upon him.

Who was he kidding? All these thoughts he’d let enrapture his mind, these idle fantasies of what could be? Foolish. Shameful, that deep, terrified part of him whispered. For a number of reasons.

Reason one, his subconscious monotonously supplied once again. Reason one is that you’re not here at this dead-end school to entangle yourself in the lives of others. You’re here to prove your worth to your family and to academia, however you can. Reason two. He’s your roommate for the rest of the year. If you make a move, and you botch this up, life will become painfully difficult.

Reason three.

Reason three was most of his worries, and why he still hesitated to make any sort of advances. He already knew Fiddleford was... well, queer, as many of the man’s friends oft referred to themselves. But Ford? He wasn’t sure if... he never... How would he even...

True, he never felt any strong inclination towards the so-called ‘fairer sex’ as a kid. Even whatever throwaway crush he had on Cathy Crenshaw in the second grade seemed more manufactured than real, since every facet of society he’d encountered aimed to press upon him the concept of man and woman, groom and wife. But if he’d never experienced anything... romantically... inclined in the first place, then how on earth can he know for sure if that’s what this is? In the end, however, he supposed it wouldn’t be changing much about the way people saw him either way. He was already a poor, Jewish Jersey kid from a mixed family with a rare genetic mutation, why the hell not add ‘gay’ to the mix?

The minutes ticked on into endless oblivion, the only noticeable sound except for the low wind whistling at their window and the drunk laughter of those rowdy frat boys a few doors down. He nestled even further under his blankets, settling so they pulled all the way up to his chin.

He desperately wished he were braver. Truth be told, even if he could amass the courage, he didn’t know if Fiddleford would be interested. Again, his roommate was one and a half years older. They were both adults, sure, but was that still too weird? Would it be a deal breaker? At the very least, he counted himself forever lucky to have him as a friend and confidant, no matter what happened (or didn’t happen) between them. No matter what doubts assailed his thoughts, he would cherish each second he could get with him: Those few stolen moments on campus where Fidds would find him after class and they’d circle around the quad talking about DD&MD or the Apollo missions or that new academic journal on string theory Ford recently found for what felt like hours. Unique instances like last Friday, when they grabbed a bite to eat off campus together at Fidds’ impromptu request. Lazy evenings spent in the dorm not doing anything in particular, just progressing on coursework or personal projects, but always in each other’s welcomed company. Every bit of winter break, when Fiddleford kindly invited him to stay with his family in Tennessee so he didn’t have to hole up in the frigid dorms or return home.

He couldn’t help the hopeless, stupid smile that teased at his lips, his cheeks almost hurting from how wide it ran. See, and this was precisely why his feelings for Fiddleford couldn’t be downplayed as mere friendship or camaraderie! He never got this way thinking about his other DD&MD mates. Still, it was late, he was cold... letting his mind replay the same broken record all night long wouldn’t do him any favors. He yawned, and curled up to conserve as much body heat as possible.

“You still up?” a voice whispered softly from across the dorm.

He froze into a panic. All this time, Fiddleford wasn’t asleep?? Shit, shit, he didn’t notice him staring dazedly at his side of the room the whole time, did he?

“Yeah,” he replied on automatic, instantly regretting not pretending to be deep in slumber.

Fidds turned in his bed so they faced each other, head propped up on his pillow. “It sure is cold, huh.”

“It, ah... It sure is."

“An’ my blanket ain’t helping.”

“Uh, I- I could check if I have an extra?”

He didn’t. But oh, for Fiddleford, he wished he did.

“Y’know... with all that ice outside,” he drawled, “maybe we oughta work together to conserve heat. Mind if I... bunk with you, for the night?”

Never in his life had he been more grateful that he had the freedom to hide his blushing face under the covers. Jesus, Stanford, don’t go falling to pieces just yet.

“Bunk wi- with me?”

“Sure! I reckon that way, we can combine all our bedding and hopefully not freeze ta’ icicles in the middle of night.”

The unexpected proposal left his mind flooded with nothing but formless static, wholly undecided in its path. He... why would... What if they...

“Of course, only if you’re comfortable,” Fiddleford added quickly, and he knew he’d have to give a coherent response soon least he risk coming off as rude.

“I am!” he blurted out. “I mean, I- I’m not opposed. To the idea of it, to us, uh... yes.”

Nailed it.

His roommate grinned. “Be right over, then!”

He watched with a tumultuous mixture of dumbfounded shock (that such a proposition had ever occurred) and eager anticipation (that he would ever want to share a bed in the first place) as the man eagerly bundled up blankets in his arms and traversed across the room to him. While Fidds was taking care of that, he pulled back the corner of his comforter in preparation, as well as scooting himself clear to the wall. Gotta allow him as much space as possible, just in case his reasons for bed sharing weren’t the same as Ford’s reasons for his hands shaking like a leaf in sheer nervousness. Thank goodness he could excuse that away as the bite of the cold.

Fiddleford threw his blankets over the twin sized mattress, and true to form there was an instant increase in warmth. To think he’d nearly forgotten what such comfort felt like! After tucking the blankets in against the far wall— cute, real cute— he climbed in beside him. His long legs brushed against his, meeting with the hem of his sweatpants.

“Here, I can—“ he murmured, shifting his feet to allow him more room. “Is that—?”

“Yeah,” he said, settling in with a soft smile and resting his head on the pillow, nose mere inches from his. “Thanks,” he added, a flash of genuine appreciation in his eyes.

(Misty blue, he noted. Reminded him of the surf.)

Side by side, they lay together in pregnant silence for an unknown duration. Their overlapping heartbeats were the only identifiable sound other than the clock’s ticking, and the never ceasing whistling of the wind. Seems the frat boys, at least, had since gone to sleep.

“Ford...”

“Hmm?”

“You do know I like ya’, right?”

And with that, a jolt of electricity shot through his entire nervous system. His tongue went slack, and Fiddleford spoke again.

“Like, like like you?”

Oh sweet Moses, it was as if his stomach had turned itself inside out- but not in an unpleasant, sick in bed with carbonated water and soda crackers sort of way, not at all. No, rather the odd sensation was light and fluttery. His face felt curiously warm, a welcome change from the frigid conditions he’d suffered in all night up until now. Breathlessly, he tried to splutter out a response.

“Y-you... you mean to say that you—?”

“Was wonderin’ when you’d finally notice? No offense, but your head’s kinda been up in the clouds.”

“I—“

He closed his eyes, steeling his nerves.

“I- really like you, too,” he finally admitted, that fluttery sensation acting up again at declaring it out loud for the first time.

“Oh, we all know,” he said fondly.

His eyes shot open.

“We?"

“What, d’ya think the rest of the crew couldn’t notice? Ford Pines, ‘m sorry ta say you really ain’t as subtle as you think you are, pining away over here.” Fiddleford paused to reach across to his face, and brushed a stray bit of his brown hair behind his ear. He peered thoughtfully into his eyes. “You ain’t subtle, and neither am I, frankly. It’s why I decided to be the first to speak up ‘bout it, ‘cause lord knows it probably wouldn’t‘ve been you.”

“I’d say I resent that, but you’re probably right,” he said with a warm chuckle, already feeling a great deal more confident about the scenario than he did only moments ago.

That wonderful man simply had something about him, something about the upbeat, genuine way he talked, that could put even the most nervous of souls at ease. He couldn’t explain it, not fully, but whenever he was around him he felt inspired to do things he’d never before considered. To take risks, to experience new and better things, to say ‘fuck it’ and sign up for that cryptography elective he desperately wanted to take even though it didn’t apply to his major... To always make the best effort he could to take care of himself, to live striving with purpose regardless of when that purpose feels impossibly distant on the horizon, to laugh daily even when laughter is the last thing he feels he’s humanly capable of...

To fall in love...

“How long has it been,” he asked, suddenly curious, “since you knew?”

“Since I knew...? Knew what? That I liked men? That you had a crush? That- that I also had one?”

“Any of it, really?”

“Hmmm,” Fiddleford thought out loud, tapping his slender finger to his chin. “Well, I figured out I was queer back when I was a kid. Had a crush on this young mailman we used to get ‘round our parts, see. And I knew you had the hots for me ever since I overheard ya’ muttering all sorts of cute things in your sleep.”

A nervous “Heh, heh” was all he could manage in response. He leaned his head ever so slightly closer to him.  

“But me? Well, I s’pose it was... Apollo 12. Back in November. We were watching the launch downstairs, in the lounge, and you... you were just so passionate about it. ‘Bout the whole world ‘round us. All my days an’ I’ve never known anyone so in love with discovery, with askin’ why. Spending time with you’s been one of the best things in my life,” he admitted, blushing slightly.

“Same,” Ford agreed, grinning wildly, his cheeks the same shade of red. “So then, if we both...? What now?”

“For now, we sleep,” he said with a short laugh. “If we stay up any later, not even Cafe Cubano could wake us up in time for lecture, I’m sure."

“Ah, but you doubt the power of my ma’s famous Cafe Cubano.”

He snickered, and then— leaned over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Ford.”

The man rolled over then, a respectful offer of privacy within their already intimate arrangement. Ford beamed, still entirely giddy and awed in light of everything that had happened, dusting his fingers over the skin his lips graced.

“Goodnight...” he wished, his restless form finally finding a sense of deep, encompassing peace.

For tonight, at least, his slumber would be sound and dreamless.

[seriouslyhooked]

Play That Song

Available on FF Here and AO3 Here

A/N: Multiple readers have asked for a sequel to my recent chapter, ‘Surround Me’ (found here) and I also have an older request for ‘Play That Song’ by Train so I am tying them together. If you didn’t read the other chapter, no worries, this is some prime CS fluff where Emma is out with her friends on girls night but Killian (and the other friends’ significant others) show up to crash it every time. Watching Emma dance the night away from the bar is a serious temptation, but the payoff is worth it. 

No matter how many months passed, the feeling of joy at having Emma as his and belonging to her in turn never faded or diminished.

Since that fateful night almost a year ago, the one where Emma had come back from an evening not unlike this one and kissed him in the elevator, Killian was hooked. Truth be told he’d been yearning for Emma Swan for far longer than even she knew, but that night changed everything for them. Despite Emma’s questioning after the fact about whether they should really do this, Killian had never doubted this was meant to be. There was something undeniable about the spark that came alive when he had his Swan by his side and in his life, and Killian was no fool. He would cherish the chance to have such a shining light in his life and never take it for granted.

“If you keep looking at Emma like that, she’s going to know you’re up to something,” a voice said from beside Killian at the bar. It came from David Nolan, his best mate from college, who had also found love recently with one of Emma’s dearest friends, Mary Margaret.

“Even if she does, she’ll never guess what it is exactly,” Killian replied, taking a sip of his beer as a means of containing his smile.

As much as he hated to admit it, David was right in a way. Killian was being incredibly obvious, but so far Emma hadn’t seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. If anything she was wrapped up in the evening with her friends, laughing, dancing, and enjoying herself in a way that made Killian’s heart soar. She looked young and carefree tonight, her smile infectious, and her eyes sparkling with nothing but good humor. Gone were the days of her cautiousness or the calculated cold aimed at keeping people at a distance. He’d pushed past those walls and laid claim to her heart, and nothing had ever been more wonderful in his whole life as being loved by Emma.

“How could she? It’s not like you’ve told any of us what the actual plan is.”

Killian swore he heard something a little like sadness in his friend’s tone, but it melted away immediately as his girl approached him. Moving into David’s arms easily, Mary Margaret smiled widely at him before making a comment on his regretful tone.

“Now David, I thought we agreed that it was romantic that Killian doesn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“We did,” David acquiesced, and though he feigned a deep and heavy sigh, Killian knew it was all a show. “I just hate to think he’s put in all this work only to end up with a second-rate proposal.”

“Come again, mate?” Killian responded at the same time Mary Margaret shushed David for being too loud with the mention of a proposal. They all looked over and found Emma was none the wiser as she continued playing darts with Ruby and Belle, and then Killian awaited explanation as to why his friend would think him incapable of asking for Emma’s hand.

“No offense man. I’m sure whatever you have is great,” David affirmed, “But I have a way with these things.”

“A way with proposing to women?” Mary Margaret asked, sounding skeptical and causing Killian to bite back a laugh. Oh man, Nolan had really stepped in it this time. It would be fun watching him get out of this.

“No of course not – but I mean generally, I have a knack for romantic elements. I mean look at our first date,” he offered to Mary Margaret, and after the shortest spell of chill she warmed up again, her eyes filling no doubt with the memories of that day.

“Hmm, you make a good point,” Mary Margaret said.

Killian hadn’t actually been on the date with the two of them, but he knew every detail of it. He was subjected to each bit of it as David was planning. A picnic in the park, a horse-drawn carriage ride, enough flowers to make a woodland creature jealous? Check, check and check. It was downright charming, but if Killian were honest it was also incredibly over the top. He shuddered to even think of that being his play with a woman like Emma, a woman who deserved the world, but who favored life’s simple pleasures and a more reserved kind of beauty.

“And if I were proposing to you, I’d take him up on his expertise, love. But with Emma…” his words trailed off as he looked back across the way to see her just turning to glance at him. In that moment the same rush of yearning came that did each time she saw him and each time her expression gave away her love for him. It felt like a miracle each and every day that such a woman cold love him, but it was his real life. He was a lucky bastard.

“With Emma the person who knows best is Killian,” Mary Margaret said with certainty. “And vice versa.”

Killian raised a brow at that last comment, intrigued by it even if it was absolutely true. There was no one the world over who understood him like Emma did, but Mary Margaret’s tone hinted at a plan that Emma had of her own and when the song changed over the speakers at the bar, and the low thrum of a familiar baseline came through Killian had an inkling of what that might be. Then he saw Emma’s flirtatious smile and her crooked finger urging him towards her and the pieces clicked together. Seemed his love wanted a dance tonight, and what better song for them to share one with than the one he’d always consider theirs.

“Quite a coincidence that this particular melody should find us again, love,” Killian said as he stepped to Emma, feeling the immediate relief and rush when she moved into his arms, the curved lines of her lithe body pressed against him in the most tantalizing way.

“Hardly,” Emma said with a lilt of laughter in her voice. “Unless by ‘coincidence’ you mean bribing Graham to play it for us.”

“Ah so you did plan this then, Swan,” Killian said, his voice growing rough as Emma turned, her back to his chest, and her body writhing to the music as he held her back against him and followed her lead.

“Mhmm. Didn’t want to wait until we got back home to be so close to you, and I figured this was the best way.”

Killian actually growled at her words, feeling the shiver move through her before he kissed her exposed neck. She was a torment – a tease and a temptress all in one, but what she said was relatable. The wait to have Emma in his arms always felt like torture, and though he was losing his mind a bit, and definitely waning in control as they swayed together, he wouldn’t trade a second of it. Instead he’d channel this both into his plan to ask Emma for forever and in the hopefully celebratory moments thereafter when they made it back to their place.

When the song eventually came to an end, and a slow one replaced it, the two of them stayed just as close, though Emma turned back around to face him once more. In her eyes Killian saw everything she was feeling. The wanting, the love, the sureness that this was right and safe and thrilling all in one – it was all etched there in the green pools Killian always lost himself in and he knew she was likely seeing the same thing in his blue ones. He wished for the words to tell Emma all that she was to him without giving away what was to come, but then she kissed him, saying for both of them everything and anything he could ever want.

“I was wrong,” Emma said when they came back up for air, their foreheads pressed together as Killian’s hand cupped her cheek.

“About?” Killian asked, confused but amused all the same.

“The dance. It didn’t help with the waiting. It just made it worse. Think we could get out of here?” Emma asked and Killian grinned.

“Aye, love. As you wish.”

So with a few goodbyes and apologies for their leaving early, Emma and Killian headed from the bar back through the busy city streets and to their apartment once more. All the while Killian was filled with anticipation, knowing that though Emma had no idea, this night was about to hold a whole lot more than an evening in each others arms. She might have getting him to bed on the brain, and he’d see to it that she had everything her heart desired, but before that there was just one thing to see to – asking Emma for her hand and soliciting the chance to make her his wife and he her husband.

As they walked into the lobby of the building that he and Emma called home, Killian expected to feel something like nerves. This was a big moment – perhaps the biggest of his life so far – and it felt like every hope for happiness and for the life he wanted rested with an unknowing Emma. But having her hand in his, feeling the way she leaned against him, and seeing her satisfied smile as they came back home for the night, Killian couldn’t engage with those worries. In her expression he already saw the answer he was seeking, for Emma loved him just as much as he loved her. Much as this might surprise her, it wouldn’t scare her, not when the time of her running from this had all but faded.

“You’ve been quiet the whole way home,” Emma murmured as they stepped up to the elevator on the right hand side. Killian was glad to see that the sign saying it was out of use for the evening was gone, and he breathed a sigh of release knowing that Gus, their always helpful doorman had gotten his text and played his part for this next step. “Something on your mind?”

“Everything is, love,” Killian confessed and Emma looked poised to ask him about it when the bell dinged and the door opened, revealing his plan.

It took Emma a second to glance from him to the elevator, but when she did she gasped audibly. Her hand came to cover her mouth as her eyes scanned the interior of an otherwise ordinary space. Now it had been transformed, covered in Emma’s favorite flowers and donning those twinkling white lights he knew she was so fond of.

“Killian, what did you do?”

Emma posed the question as he led her into the elevator car. She marveled at all of the work that he had done, but Killian knew the best effect would come as the doors closed. He waited what felt like a lifetime, but it was only a few beats of the heart and then they came together and Emma saw it, the specially adorning signs asking her a simple but all consuming question:

Emma, will you marry me?

Her eyes watered with tears as she squeezed his hand, but she still looked shocked as he got down on one knee before her. Seeing her like this, and knowing that all of this emotion she was feeling stemmed from her love and the hope that their finding each other had brought into her life fueled his need to make this moment even more perfect. And the only way he could think to do that was to truly speak from the heart.

“I’ve thought of roughly one million ways to ask you for forever, Emma. I had a million ideas, but none of them were right until I thought back and considered what moment meant the most in all our time together. The night you kissed me on this elevator - the night you took a chance on me - changed my world forever. I can’t thank you enough for doing that, love, for being brave enough for both of us. But I will spend a lifetime trying to show you just how much you mean to me. There will never be enough moments, never be enough time -,”

At that moment an unexpected interruption came in the form of the elevator bell. They’d arrived at their floor, and Killian had foolishly forgotten to pause the elevator with the key currently in the slot. He mumbled a brief ‘bloody hell’ under his breath, but then he heard Emma laughing and watched as she pressed the ‘stop’ button just in time to keep them enclosed in here a little longer.

“You were saying…? Emma prompted, her voice warbling from the happy tears that streamed down her cheeks.

“I was saying that forever hardly feels like enough when it comes to loving you, but I don’t want to settle for anything less. So with that being said… Emma Swan, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she answered without any hesitation as she pulled him up from bended knee. “And though this is probably the sweetest thing you could have ever done, I would have said yes however you asked. If you asked a million ways, my answer would always stay the same.”

“Thank God for that,” Killian affirmed.

With that, Killian slid on the ring chosen especially for Emma onto her finger and then he pulled her to him, kissing her senseless and pouring in all that he felt and all that he wished for them to have together. Eventually that kiss grew to more and the two of them made their way from the scene of the proposal back home, cementing their love and enjoying the ecstasy only two truly tied souls could feel. But the best part of it all was that this was only the beginning. Their engagement bloomed into a wedding, their wedding grew into a marriage, and their marriage became a beautiful foundation for a life together filled with so many ups and so few real downs. And through every beat of that story, through every chapter of that life, there was always love and hope and light, making their love together a true tale of happily ever afters.

………….

Play that song The one that makes me go all night long The one that makes me think of you That's all you gotta do Hey, mister DJ when you gonna spin it My baby's favorite record she been waiting for a minute She invited all her friends and I'm buying all the rounds And they're all dolled up DJ please don't let me down When you gonna play that song, now When you gonna earn that pay When you gonna play that song and make my day She said, play that song The one that makes me go all night long The one that makes me think of you That's all you gotta do Hey, play that song The one the makes me stay out till dawn The one that makes me go, ooh That's all you gotta do (hey, hey, hey, hey) Hey, Mr. Guitar When you gonna strum it My girl just heard this song and you should play it 'cause she loves it Can you get me off the hook, get them fingers picking now I'll throw some money in your cup Mister, please don't let me down When you gonna play that song, now Why you gotta hesitate When you gonna play that song and make my day She said, play that song The one that makes me go all night long The one that makes me think of you That's all you gotta do Hey, play that song The one the makes me stay out till dawn The one that makes me go, ooh That's all you gotta do Oh, wait till you see my baby move Move, move, wait till you see my baby move Move, move, oh, come on now Play that song The one that makes me go all night long The one that makes me think of me That's all you gotta do Hey, play that song The one the makes her stay out till dawn The one that makes her go, ooh That's all you gotta do That's all you gotta do That's all you gotta do That's all you gotta do

Post-Note: You can always tell when I’ve gotten myself right in the feels based on my endings. If I manage to make some grand statements about happy endings and fairytale romance then I basically went on a fluff-binge, and that was definitely the case with this installment. Anyway, thanks to all of you who requested this follow-up, and thanks so much to everyone for reading. To the many of you still waiting on your requests, not to worry, I have a relatively open summer ahead of me that will hopefully afford me the chance to do lots and lots of writing and that will include more chapters of this mixtape. In the meantime I hope you are all doing well, I hope you have a lovely rest of your weekend, and I PRAY that the series finale coming our way will do us all justice. I haven’t watched any of season 7, but I’m still excited to see what they come up with. And whether or not we all get our full CS fix, not to worry, I’ve got about a million more over the top stories to share that will include just that!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176, Part 177

[firecrackerhh]

Guys.

Ok so I made a post not that long ago about Charlie’s age, after seeing a photograph of her and her mother in 1900s era clothing.

But that’s whatever, what’s important is what I said near the end of it.

I mentioned the possibility of Lucifer having crazy time-space powers, since angels are above such concepts as space-time and such, I was thinking on that and I realized.

Now this is but a theory, and who knows when it’ll get brought up (Charlie’s abilities have to be shown at least a LITTLE in the actual show yknow?) and it occurred to me.

Charlotte Magne’s parents are by all accounts incredibly powerful.

As such, she is half-demon, half-Angel. Now what normally kills a demon, permanently? Angel weaponry, which would not affect her in anyway(assuming her full demon half isn’t out at the time, and even then I’m sure she would heal quickly) now, again, theory, but what if there’s Demonic weaponry? Weapons that are powerful enough to kill an Angel?

Charlie is half demon half Angel. As such neither weapon could truly affect her.

Yknow what this MEANS?

Charlotte Magne, if she had enough mastery over both of her forms, would be the second most powerful being in existence, next to God himself.

Now, WHO, or WHAT could POSSIBLY-

Nah let’s be serious here, nothing can fight against Him. Satan, if I remember correctly, comes close, but it is more so a…balance. Where satan brings dark, God is light yadda yadda.

Btw I’m sorry if I get any of this shit wrong it’s been forever since I’ve read a bible (even then it was like, the child friendly ones.)

Anyways! My point is Charlie is the antichrist.

Thanks to Wikipedia, I’ve learned the Antichrist is just that, a being that will substitute themselves as the messianic figurehead before the Second Coming. (Hehe. Sorry couldn’t help myself)

Now of course you might be thinking, “But Firecracker, Charlie would never do that!”

You’re right.

For now.

See the thing about a pilot is that it is a mere crumb of info on any character, we don’t know if Charlie will…snap.

What would cause her to do that?

The second she realizes heaven is not what it’s been claimed to be. All that time and energy wasted. Hard work with no payoff.

Now again, speculation, but I see heaven as an…imperfect paradise in the Hellaverse.

It’s essentially, imagine the WHITEST goddamn suburb you’ve ever seen and multiply that a million fold. They smile and they’re “happy” but they are only so because if they fall out of line, they will be thrown to the dark pits of hell, forever forced to suffer over the most minor of sins.

When Charlie finds out about this, she’s of course beyond angry. Devastated. Perhaps even destructive. She will realize heaven was a lie, her father was right, and now she is a fool, everyone was right to laugh. They knew all along.

But then she realizes.

She can still help her people! By giving them arms, training, and telling them if they succeed, they will never have to worry about exterminations ever again.

Hmm…a powerful being in their own right trying to fight against God himself? How familiar…

At first it will be for selfless reasons, so Charlie thinks. Many might die permanently, but many sinners on earth die every day. There’s little shortage of demons.

But then it becomes more desperate, resources begin to dwindle, morale is low, Charlie doesn’t know what to do.

Then she remembers.

She has more power, she is better, faster, she has an advantage other demons do not.

She is half Angel.

As such she flies to Heaven and dares to defy God himself…she’s instantly batted away like a fly, fallen back to hell, no injuries other than a bruised sense of pride.

She begins to think…

God only has power in as much as you’re willing to believe in Him.

She wonders, could the same work for her?

She begins making propaganda films, showing herself as their savior against God and his tyrannical ways.

It fucking works.

She becomes more powerful, stronger, even taller! She trains daily, building her endurance against particularly strong angelic attacks. (They can not kill her but they do burn. Same with demonic weaponry when not in her demon form.)

Soon, she becomes so strong other demons have to respect her, even those who still think she’s crazy. She becomes prideful over finally having the respect of her people she longed for (even if it’s not exactly how she wanted it)

Charlotte begins to think. God is nothing. He preaches of love yet loves in the most abusive way possible. He claims to love all his children yet he dared to send those of minor sin to eternal torment? I could do better!

So she begins to say how when it’s all over, she will bring in a new era of prosperity for all, Heaven, hell, and even Earth.

Ah, Icarus flys too close to the sun…

When she feels ready, she will fly up to heaven again, but this time, with a message.

“You think you’re so great!? You send your people to slaughter every year, do nothing to help those on Earth! You hear their prayers but you either don’t listen, or choose to only listen to minor things that you could do without breaking a sweat! What kind of God are you!? You claim to love us and yet here you are! Sitting in your mighty throne merely watching from a distance! You could stop-“

“Charlotte Magne.” God says, his voice nowhere and everywhere at once.

It unnerves her just enough to shut her up.

“I see all, I know all. I know what has been, what is happening, and what will be. It is of no shock you would turn to the same sin that befell your father.” Charlie scoffs.

“Well, like father, like daughter.”

“You dare to defy me and declare yourself above me. You claim to bring peace, prosperity, to everyone.”

“Absolutely!” She shouts.

“Yet your lies fuel nothing but your pride. Your heart was pure, turned to the dark, and now your ideals are the same. You wish to usurp me to make things better. For others? Or for yourself?” Charlie doesn’t flinch.

“It was always for others! I knew what I-“

“Liar! You wished to help others, but there was a secret underneath. You wished to help others in hopes you could ascend to heaven yourself, to forget your home and reach the heavenly plains so you could forget the darker side of yourself which I see this moment. Your ideals were selfish by nature.” Charlie was getting very mad.

“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!? How dare you! Telling me who I am! When I see suffering to my people, the slaughter, I grieve! This isn’t just for me! If it was, I would try to-“

“You are of hell’s creatures. Your kind could never reach heaven, such a thing would soil heavens light and bring it low. I cannot-“

“FUCK YOU! I don’t need this! We don’t need this! If you’re so useless, maybe I should take over! So worried about heaven, heaven heaven heaven! ARE WE NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU!? We are your children as well! Or are you in actuality weaker than you are? I hear Earth has been becoming less religious, at least in the more populous areas. Maybe you know your time is running o-“ Charlotte suddenly felt like she was smacked.

“Petulant child. For your transgression against Me, you shall inherit the same sins as your father.”

“Isn’t there a Bible-“ A boom sounded.

“You chose your fathers path. This is not mere coincidence. Do not try to fool me Magne. Now begone!”

Before she could say another word she was thrown down yet again towards hell. She hit the concrete.

She stayed there on the ground for a long time. She didn’t remember, but she must’ve sent a telepathic message to her generals to end this. They were all coming back.

She truly began to despair when she realized she had no one, besides her family.

Angel Dust, Alastor, Husk, Mimzy, they were all drafted, and died.

She truly began to sob when she remembered Vaggie died as well.

All she wanted to do was cry, but Razzle and Dazzle picked her up and carried her to the palace. It was by some miracle it was rather unharmed in the ensuing chaos.

She opened the door.

Her parents were right there in the grand entrance of the castle, giving each other knowing looks.

Lilith was so very upset. Not at her daughter, no, what God could’ve said is what worried her.

Lucifer assumed this was bound to happen. Like father like daughter. At least she had someone to cushion her metaphorical fall.

It was silent.

Then Lucifer said, “Whatever he told you, it was bullshit.”

Charlotte began to sob uncontrollably, her mother caught her swiftly, saying soothing words, gently rocking her as if she were a baby again.

It was several hours before Charlotte could even try to sleep.

She looked out, seeing the remnants of the clock in Pentagram city.

It was destroyed.

She may have lost everything, her friends, though they became family to her, her city, which was now in ruins, and a majority of her people, though many were dying on earth as well and thus repopulation was inevitable.

She resolved to rebuild her city, her life, whatever it took. Her flame did not burn out that quickly.

At least she had comfort in knowing another extermination was not coming for a long, long time.

[bunny-wan-kenobi]

Thor Thoughts Part 3: Come Home Brother

Part 3 of my series of reflections on Thor–this one’s a doozy (because, FEELINGS), so see below the cut:

The Elevator Scene

Right after @vitoliel and I saw Thor Ragnarok, we talked about the Elevator Scene. In a movie bursting with quips and big laughs, this brief pause with Thor and Loki stood out because it was one of the few times we actually see them address the whole complicated history between them and all the betrayal and hurt and frustration wrapped up in it. 

Thor: Loki, I thought the world of you. I thought we were going to fight side-by-side forever, but at the end of the day you’re you and I’m me and… oh, maybe there’s still good in you but… let’s be honest, our paths diverged a long time ago.

Loki: Yeah… it’s probably for the best that we’ll never see each other again.

Thor: That’s what you always wanted.

What’s special about this scene (other than being the PERFECT preface to pinnacle of Marvel comedy “Get Help”) is that it represents another turning point for these brothers, who we have seen throughout these movies as family, rivals, enemies, and tenuous allies. Now, seconds before the action ramps up again, we get this goodbye moment with two men whose paths have come together once more, and it’s sad. 

A huge part of this gravity owes itself to Tom Hiddleston’s emotionally-layered performance as Loki where we actually glimpse the uncertainty and hurt crossing his face as he glances at Thor. Meanwhile, Thor is speaking to him, eyes straight-ahead, looking outwards. This moment is an inhale, a moment big with possibility because we know as viewers that it doesn’t end here (these two overpowered Norse idiots are always going to find each other anyway), but until the payoff comes later, we’re left with the quiet tragedy of this farewell. 

What Do You Mean Indifference?! 

There is a lot to unpack here, but what was startling to me was how different @vitoliel and my interpretations for this scene were. I went on and on about how this scene was so moving because here’s Thor loving his brother so much that he’s giving him the space and distance to make his own choices (even if he doesn’t agree with them) and is moving on himself. When I finished (I’m definitely the passionate-monologuer type), my friend paused and shared that what came across to her was Thor’s indifference to Loki and how deeply that must have hurt. 

Wait–what? Indifference?! What did she mean–couldn’t she see that this was Thor letting go, letting Loki live his life and–oh. Oh. I stopped my indignant sputtering and let my friend continue. She somehow put her finger on what I had totally missed: To Loki, it looked like Thor had given up on him, and that indifference was more painful than hate. 

A new question dawned on me: What if Loki never wanted his brother to stop chasing him? Even if he never said so, acted instead like it didn’t matter, like the distance between them didn’t sting, what if he still yearned to be considered worth pursuing, worth that effort? What if he just wanted the security and constancy of that one hand reaching out to him, even though there was no certainty of him ever reaching back? 

It hit me that I didn’t think of this before because I was looking at Thor and Loki’s relationship through the lens of an older sister. In so many ways, I resonate with Thor’s optimism, his faith in people’s potential for good…and his dogged protectiveness of his family. 

When Watching Thor Turns Into Family Therapy  

I have two siblings, a sister and brother, and I’m horribly guilty of the same kind of bear-huggy, smothery love Thor is inclined towards. Like Thor can’t help trying to bring people to himself, bring them together and close, I can’t help but reach out towards my siblings, whether it’s through way too many ice cream cones and Broadway outings to nosy (well I think just curious) questions about their love lives, their classes, their jobs. 

I’d like to say that they are equally responsive to this outreach and we have relationship-building, soul-searching conversations together ALL the time…but it’s not like that. My sister is more reserved with her affection and inner world, though always energetic, mobile, and with her own blend of snark and good sense. My brother steps towards adulthood and is far from the little boy who used to lean into my shoulders when afraid or tired. 

In the past, when they warded off my attempts to hear what they were up to, I used to press them, ask follow-up questions, try again and again. I didn’t have the closeness with my siblings that I craved, and I wasn’t satisfied settling for a call once a month–if even that. So I put up with the eye-rolling and sighs that headlined that I was being overbearing, smothering, nosy. 

But I got tired. Things weren’t matching up to the harmonious picture of sibling love and unity that I somehow kept striving for. I wasn’t even sure if it was realistic to want it–maybe I was asking too much of my siblings. Maybe we were all too different from each other and I should be okay with that. So I allowed for some distance, called less, and didn’t push my questions when I did. 

Blindspots

Reflecting now upon the Elevator Scene with Loki and Thor, I wonder if me and Thor share not only the same sometimes-overbearing affection for our siblings–but also the same blindspots. Our situations are totally different–none of my siblings have tried to take over the Earth with an alien army or pretend to be our dad to rule the house (though I’m sure my sister could do anything she puts her mind to), but in some ways I have mirrored Thor’s giving up on the possibility of a deeper connection and healing with our siblings.nbsp; 

My tendency is to be a people-pleaser and keep the peace, whether it’s good to let things lie or not, and so I didn’t want to inconvenience my siblings or reach out too much that it would alienate them. I thought I was doing this out of love, and I thought it came across that way…but what if it didn’t? What if my distance is not the freedom Thor and I frame it as, but a reflection of our own resignation to the way things are with our siblings? 

And to a large degree, it is. I mean, Thor has tried SO MANY TIMES to reach out to Loki, confront his harmful behaviors, remind him that they are family, and tell him to come home. You see this most in Avengers when Thor points to all the good memories of their brotherhood as proof that they could have that again:

Thor: I thought you dead.

Loki: Did you mourn?

Thor: We all did. Our father…

Loki: YOUR father! He DID tell you my true parentage, did he not?

Thor: We were raised together, we played together, we fought together. Do you remember none of that?

Loki: I remember a shadow, living in the shade of your greatness. I remember you tossing me into an abyss, I who was and should be king!

……………..

Loki: I AM a king!

Thor: Not here! You give up the Tesseract! You give up this pointless dream!… You come home.

But again, despite the insistence on family bonds and coming together, there are blindspots. Thor simply doesn’t fully understand Loki’s motivations or the demons he’s wrestling with. He makes assumptions about Loki’s power grab based on his perceptions and limited information and dismisses the rest as “imagined slights.” Ouch…that must have stung Loki.

And not only that, but it’s possible that Thor didn’t consider how he has contributed to Loki’s sense of alienation and disillusionment or that it’s simply not possible for them both to go home and have things be the way they were. Loki’s foundations have shattered too much and there’s been too much conflict between them to go back. Thor wants to understand, but there’s a lot going on in Loki under the surface that he just doesn’t see. He says that they are “brothers,” but how do the actions line up with this label from Loki’s point of view?  

Seeing where Thor misses the mark with Loki makes me afraid of what I am missing when I interact with my siblings. I love them and like to define myself as a good older sister, but what if I’m like Thor–all good intentions but causing more hurt rather than helping? This isn’t all me and Thor’s fault since there are just things you don’t see under the surface, and we’re not perfect, but the anxiety of it leaves you in a lose-lose situation because you don’t want overwhelm your siblings with your concern and care…but you also don’t want to lose them. 

It is all too easy for me to relate to Thor, and by the time the events of The Dark World come around, I feel his weariness and frustration. He wants so much to trust Loki, to be close to him again, but after seeing his compassion met with betrayal and bitter mockery one to many times, Thor is about *this close* to being done. And by Ragnarok, it looks like he is. 

A Way Home

Now, whether the elevator conversation is Thor’s way of using reverse psychology on Loki, banking on his betrayal as part of his greater plan, I do think Thor’s words reflect just enough truth of what he’s actually feeling. Maybe he wants to be indifferent to Loki and let him do whatever he wants–that casual passivity would be the easier path. But whatever Thor says, his actions (as always) reveal that there’s still a small stubborn part of him that holds hope for Loki and the brotherhood they could reclaim. 

So what does Thor do? He anticipates Loki’s betrayal, but I think he also gives him an opportunity to come back. He leaves him trapped in an electric bind on the ground, but instead of tossing the remote or taking it with him to cement his action, he places it just close by enough. Not only that, he has already engineered a prison break with compatriots he knows will be headed this way to escape Sakaar. 

Now the choice is again up to Loki. There is a hand reaching out, fragile, uncertain, maybe, but with enough hope to envision the possibility of Loki rejoining Thor and helping save lives rather than simply manipulate or destroy them. And you know what? Loki takes the hand, and when he shows up on Asgard to save the day, it isn’t surprise you see on Thor’s face–it’s joy. 

The coda of Ragnarok provides the response to the question posed by the conversation of Elevator Scene. Loki and Thor are different, and the choices they have made and their outlook on the world mean they will not always understand or align with each other. Each has wronged the other, and they’re only beginning to deal with that. But that doesn’t have to be mutually exclusive with them standing by each other’s side when most needed. Maybe they don’t need to put distance between them to find a way for them both to move forward–maybe that’s not even what’s best for them. 

The alternative is more complicated: choosing to work through the pain and tensions of the past to figure out what being brothers looks like now after everything they have been through together. Thor can learn to listen, continue on his journey of open-mindedness and meet his brother where he is. Loki can learn to heal, trust in the love and care offered him as he reworks what his place in the world is–both the mischief and the heroism. They can figure out how they can be equals in the way they never were before. 

This post wasn’t meant to be so lengthy or anything, but seeing Ragnarok hit me in a way I didn’t expect. And after seeing Loki and Thor wrestling with these deep issues, maybe I won’t stop reaching out to my own siblings–even when it’s hard to. I won’t blame myself for when things don’t go the way I hoped, for the things outside of my control or the things they do, but I won’t let it deter me either. I can’t fix everything, and neither is it up to me to, but I can model care to the people who matter to me and take ownership of that. Me and Thor will stay stubborn and love our siblings the best way we can and never apologize for trying. It’s a new world after all, and maybe we just need to rediscover what home is before heading there. 

Thor Thoughts: Part I, Part 2

[diabolikpersonals]

Like, what do you think of them generally?

alright alright alright alright alright thank u for the opportunity to talk about diaboys!!! I appreciate it ! under a read more bc I ranted forever

LAITO:

My first exposure to dialovers was the anime so my first impression towards Laito was like “oh, he’s the flirty one - oh shit he’s banging her in a church, you cant do that, thats nuts lol” but as I got more into the games, Laito became SO IMPORTANT TO ME??? especially like his relationships, w/ ALL the characters like his brothers and yui and the other families and everything! I especially love learning more about his relationship with Ayato and Kanato because it’s so dang complex. His feelings towards his triplet bros is really complicated because he loves them and you know he loves them but his trauma w/ his mom sort of fucks it all up so he’s got like this genuinely nice and kind and loving personality fighting against this trauma and warped view of the concepts of love and family that Cordelia gave him, and what you get is, “I love my family and I hope they die” and throughout the games u learn more about the reasons why he has those world views and it’s SO GOOD Laito is such a well thought-out character!?! As a writer Laito delights me but as a fan, his whole deal makes me so dang sad djhfghjdkdfd

That’s why I was so fucking satisfied w/ Laito in the Laito vs Shin cd because you got a bunch of the darker stuff surrounding him (his tendency to push people off of buildings, that FUCKING VOICE DROP he does when he’s genuinely mad) and Laito was like...he was SCARY. And he was scaring YUI and he was scaring HIMSELF, too, which made me so sad!! Laito was like crying and punching walls and being like “why am I acting like this??” and it fuckin broke my heart dude. He’s a genuinely good person, he’s so wonderful, but he’s recovering from some really really nasty stuff. So that cd really gave me a sense of like, “Man, Laito hates this just as much as I do.” It makes me want to...idk...it makes me want to give him more opportunities to be good. He really is good!!!

KANATO:

As for my first impression, I think Kanato turned me off right away because I could instantly recognize all the tropes they were gonna use when they were designing him. You can look at him and tell that he’s gonna be the ~yandere~ character (I hate using that word but u know what tropes I’m talking about). As soon as they showed him eating a bunch of sweets I was like “yep.” When they showed us his room full of wax dolls, I was like “uh huh, that seems about right.” And then he yelled a lot and tried to stab Yui for making him french toast or whatever and I was like “ok.........I’ll go start ayato’s route” u know??? just super not my type, and the Kanato vs Azusa cd was torture because Azusa’s so soft-spoken but Kanato’s always yelling at the top of his lungs. I had to keep messing with the volume and it bugged me.

I think I would like Kanato a lot more if he...had a...friend. I think rejet kinda realized that he needed one and they had that in mind when they were introducing Azusa, but that ended up being a pretty bad failure I think. Kanato doesn’t really get along with anyone and he’s pretty open about admitting that he doesn’t like anyone particularly well. I’m glad to see him starting to love Yui genuinely but...idk I feel like every other diaboy has another diaboy(s) that he gets along with really well and it’s always nice to see them acting friendly and even encouraging each other sometimes! Kanato doesn’t really have that kind of relationship with anyone. When Ayato tried to reach out and apologize in LE, Kanato was like “lol kill yourself” and I was actually so fuckin mad at him, I was like “boy if you don’t fix that attitude of yours-”..........I guess I just wish that he had more character development by this point. That scene really hurt.

RUKI:

Basically the WORST first impression ever...my first Ruki scene that I ever saw was when he broke the cat’s neck and I was so pissed. I was like “immediately fuck this guy” and he became my least favorite character right away. And on top of that he was really elitist and one of those jerk intellectuals “ohhh solve this puzzle or STAY OUT THERE IN THE COLD you big dumb idiot. im smart and you’re not” and I was like FUCK this guy, how does yuma put up with him with HIS backstory?

But I hella warmed up to him during MB, like especially during Reiji’s route where Ruki was like “...uh...okay” the whole time jhdghdj that shit was hilarious. Ruki started feeling really real. And I think that like...hm...like if Laito is a genuinely good person surrounded by bad influence, Ruki is the opposite - he’s a bad personality surrounded by good influence. Ruki’s a jerk and he’s been a jerk his whole life but he has these wonderful brothers who love him so much and this lovely angel Yui and he’s just got all these good people who look up to him and he has to be good. This little asshole kid who treated all his servants like shit is now cooking dinner for his three adoptive brothers every day and they love him so much and they love him so much. It’s so fucking satisfying. I love seeing him supporting his brothers even though it conflicts with his personality and his main drive, like letting Kou run away with Yui even though Kou couldn’t become Adam. Ruki’s most important thing in MB was making one of the Mukamis become Adam but he gave that up to let Kou be happy. That shit is so important. Ruki was such a fuckin turnaround for me, I hated him at first but now I love the hell out of him and what he represents for the Mukamis.

KOU:

Kou is great!! I think he’s affected lots of characters in really positive ways, and he’s been affected in positive ways by different characters and it’s really nice to see. For sure he’s still got that trauma from his past but I really appreciate that Kou is in an environment that doesn’t have a lot of reminders of the bad stuff from his childhood. Like, how Kou was sought after for being such a beautiful child, and how he was trapped in a dark place for such a long time. There’s none of that shit when he lives with the Mukamis. Rejet could’ve easily put in tons of haunting reminders about Kou’s whole “too beautiful for his own good” thing but whenever he gets complimented, it’s usually for something different. Azusa will talk about how talented and amazing he is, and Kino’ll be like “idol clothes are pretty nuts huh? lol” and Ruki will be like “you’re working properly after all” and I fuckin love that shit...They could’ve made it so dang hard for Kou, but no, he’s in a much happier place now. He’s nice and comfortable being with these people. That makes me feel relieved lol

I already talked about how he helped Ruki but I think the most important relationship with a diaboy that he has is SUBARUUUUU cuz like, when you look at Subaru’s route you’re like “oh he definitely needs a friend, I’m glad he has a gf but he was so dang lonely and self-deprecating that he DEFINITELY just needs a genuine good friend” and then Kou showed up and he was like “guess what subaru? we’re gonna be friends, I’ve decided” and subaru was like “???” and MB happened and by the end of it Subaru was like “I took everything you said really seriously and I do want to be friends with you..............im not gonna say it out loud tho. let’s just shake hands ok” and I was like AW HECK YEAH!!!!! And then you keep seeing nice little reminders that they’re friends in other games, like in either LP or VC (Im sorry I literally cannot tell these two games apart) they were picking out hair accessories together for Yui, and in the Subaru vs Kou cd, Kou asks Subaru at the end if he had fun, and in LE Kou gave Subaru that pep talk and made Subaru laugh, and Subaru was like “Kou if I’m gonna die then I want you to kill me” and Kou was like “But I don’t want you to die!” and Subaru was like “you dont??? you actually care? about ME???” ITS SO FUCKING GOOD DUDE Subaru needed Kou so badly. Thank god for Kou honestly

KINO:

It was weird like...I was so mad at him during certain routes but I could never actually dislike him. It’s because he’s so dang funny tbh. He literally killed some of my favorite characters but then he would say a funny line and I’d be like “haha, I’m glad kino is here!” like it’s almost scary how charismatic he is towards both the other characters and to me, the player. He asked nicely if he could kill Shu and Shu was like “ok, sure.” Kino is hands down my fav villain because of this. Especially because you can really tell that deep down he wants to be a real member of the Sakamaki family and like he genuinely wants to be friends with people like Yuma and Kou, and he’s got the whole villain-turned-awkward-family-member trope which I LOVE. Like especially in that drama cd where he was like “I never get to go to school so I want to do home ec with you guys! Let’s make donuts!” and Kou was like “ok!!!” and kou tries to be super positive and encouraging the whole time even though Kino was actually secretly plotting to blow the place up. Kino looks like an idiot but he’s a genius tbh

and and and and and and I want him to kiss yuri. I think yuri is super in love w/ kino too, despite the fact that he’s. annoying. thats all I got dhgfdjskj...I love the childhood-friends-to-lovers trope so fuckin much

CARLA:

hey carla fuck you

I was really mad at him for his actions in DF mostly ^^; And tbh it’s really hypocritical because it was a group effort between both of the Tsukinamis, but I ended up loving Shin and hating Carla. Kino also did similar bad stuff to Carla, but I ended up loving him while hating Carla. So, why?

Well here’s fuckin why. Shin and Kino are cute & funny. They have their nice little payoff moments - maybe Shin hurt one of my favorite characters, but then you get to see how bubbly and energetic he gets around his big brother. He was walking one of his wolves around christmas time while wearing a red jacket and a random kid approached him thinking he was santa claus. That’s adorable! For a long time, Carla didn’t have anything like that. And he was a jerk to absolutely everyone, including Shin, who was so dang devoted to him!! Like remember in the DF cds where he was like “hey shin, the plan is we suck her blood until she’s purified from the vampires” and shins like “ok nii-san got it” and he started sucking her blood, exactly like he was ordered to, and then carla came in and STABBED HIM and was like “hey dont touch my property” like SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK CARLA U TOLD HIM TO DO IT IN THE FIRST PLACE!!! IT WAS THE PLAN

And he fucked Ayato up real bad in DF so I was so mad...;; I only recently started forgiving him once diatwitter and LE started up. Diatwitter let us see his cute old grandpa side where he fuckin wanders around amusement parks by himself like some kind of cryptid and kou keeps being like “wait was that carla? what the heck??” and LE gave us some pretty nice stuff like carla being like “ur definitely my brother, shin” so...carla is ok I guess...but then again LE also gave us some bad carla moments like “if ur not actually a founder then u lied to me and im gonna kill u” so basically uh?? carla’s just a jerk I think. I’m warming up to him at a snail’s pace but he’s still a jerk. sucks about the endzeit tho, I hope he’s like permanently ok now

[theadmiringbog]

Schools reward being a generalist. There is little recognition of student passion or expertise. The real world, however, does the reverse. Arnold, talking about the valedictorians said, “They’re extremely well rounded and successful, personally and professionally, but they’ve never been devoted to a single area in which they put all their passion. That is not usually a recipe for eminence.”

--

In his Ph.D. thesis, Mukunda applied his theory to all the U.S. presidents, evaluating which ones were filtered and which unfiltered, and whether or not they were great leaders. The results were overwhelming. His theory predicted presidential impact with an almost unheard of statistical confidence of 99 percent.

...

When I spoke to Mukunda, he said, “The difference between good leaders and great leaders is not an issue of ‘more.’ They’re fundamentally different people.”

--

“All of Silicon Valley is based on character defects that are rewarded uniquely in this system.”

- Po Bronson

--

Know thyself.

...

Many people struggle with this. They aren’t sure what their strengths are. Drucker offers a helpful definition:”What are you good at that consistently produces desired results?”

To find out what those things are, he recommends a system he calls “feedback analysis.” 

Quite simply, when you undertake a project, write down what you expect to happen, then later note the results. Over time you’ll see what you do well and what you don’t.

...

Research by Gallup shows that the more hours per day you spend doing what you’re good at, the less stressed you feel and the more you laugh, smile, and feel you’re being treated with respect.

--

The difference between the Givers who succeed and the Givers who don’t isn’t random. Adam Grant notes that totally selfless Givers exhaust themselves helping others and get exploited by Takers, leading them to perform poorly on success metrics. There are  number of things Givers can do to build limits for themselves and make sure they don’t go overboard. That two-hours-a-week volunteering? Don’t do more. Research by Sonja Lyubomirsky shows that people are happier and less stressed when they “chunk” their efforts to help others versus a relentless “sprinkling.” So by doing all their good deeds one day a week, Givers make sure assisting others doesn’t hamper their own achievements. One hundred hours a year seems to be the magic number.

Grant also points out the other ace in the hole Givers have: Matchers. They want to see good rewarded and evil punished, so Matchers go out of their way to punish Takers and protect Givers from harm. When Givers are surrounded by a coterie of Matchers, they don’t have to fear exploitation as much.

--

Don’t be envious

Life isn’t a zero-sum game. Just because someone else wins, that doesn’t mean you lose. Sometimes that person need the fruit and you need the peel. And sometimes the strategy that makes you lose small on this round makes you win big on the next.

--

Cooperate

Harvard Business School’s Deepak Malhotra number one recommendation to students is “They need to like you.” This doesn’t mean you need to give twenty-dollar bills to everyone you meet. Favors can be quite small. We also forget that something quite easy for us (a thirty-second email introduction) can have enormous payoffs for others (a new job).

--

As Adam Grant acknowledged, giving too much can lead to burnout. A mere two hours a week of helping others is enough to get maximum benefits, so there’s no need for guilt or for martyring yourself -- an no excuse for saying you don’t have time to help others.

--

David DeStenoo, head of the Social Emotions Group at Northeastern University says, “People are always trying to discern two things:

whether a potential partner can be trusted and 

whether he or she is likely to be encountered again.

Answers to those two questions, far beyond anything else, will determine what any of us will be motivated to do in the moment.”

--

“Explanatory style”: three Ps: permanence, pervasiveness, and personalization

Pessimists tell themselves that bad events

will last a long time, or forever (I’ll never get this done)

are universal (I can’t trust any of these people)

are their own fault (I’m terrible at this)

Optimists tell themselves that bad events

are temporary (That happens occaionally, but it’sn ot a big deal)

have a specific cause and aren’t universal (When the weather is better that won’t be a problem)

are not their fault (I’m goo at this, but today wsn’t my lucky day)

--

A man who becomes conscious of the responsibility he bears toward a human being who affectionately waits for him, or to an unfinished work, will never be able to throw away his life. He knows the “why” for his existence, and will be able to bear almost any “how.”

- Victor Frankl

--

“What is to give light must endure burning.” 

-- Victor Frankl

--

What’s the best predictor of your child’s emotional well-being? Researchers at Emory University found that whether a kid knew their family history was the number-one indicator.

--

It sounds morbid, but people who contemplate the end actually behave in healthier ways -- and therefore may actually live longer. It has also been shown to increase self-esteem.

--

The moral of Don Quixote: “If you want to be a knight, act like a knight.”

--

“If you are immune to boredom, there is literally nothing you cannot accomplish.”

-- David Foster Wallace

--

What all good games have in common: WNGF

Winnable

Novel challenges and Goals

provide Feedback

--

You can be sincere and score points with the boss by regularly asking how you’re doing and how can you do better. If you were the boss, and an employee regularly said, “How can I make your life easier?” what would your reaction be? Exactly.

--

“The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.”

-- Henry David Thoreau

--

Whenever you wish you had more time, more money, etc. strategic quitting is the answer.

--

We act like there are no limits. When we choose an extra hour at work, we are in effect, choosing one less hour with our kids. We can’t do it all and do it well. And there will not be more time later. Time does not equal money because we can get more money.

--

Drucker always asks: “Is this still worth doing?” And if it isn’t, he gets rid of it so as to be able to concentrate on the few tasks that, if done with excellence, will really make a difference in the results of his own job and in the performance of his organization.

--

If you practice something one hour a day, that’s 27.4 years to reach the 10,000-hour mark of expertise. But what if you quit a few less important things and made it four hours a day? Now it’s 6.8 years. 

--

There’s an easy formula that gives you an exact answer for how many dates to go on and how to pick the right person. It’s what math folks call an “optimal stopping problem.”

--

The two magic words are “if” and “then.” For any obstacle, just thinking, If X happens, I’ll handle it by doing Y makes a huge difference.

--

WOOP -- wish, outcome, obstacle, plan -- is applicable to most any of your goals, from career to relationships to exercise and weight loss.

First, you get to dream. What’s the thing you wish for?

Really crystalize it in your mind and see the outcome you desire.

Then it’s time to face reality. What obstacle is in the way? 

Then address it. What’s your plan?

--

You wanna be a real ramblin’ earth shaker? Somebody who changes the world and gets recognized in the history books? There ain’t no two ways about it; you’re gonna need a mentor.

--

You might think, “I’m just trying to explain ...” But Bernstein says this is a trap. Explaining is almost always veiled dominance. You’re not trying to educate; you’re still trying to win. The subtext is, “Here’s why I am right and you are wrong.” And that is exactly what the other side will hear no matter what you say.

--

Ask open-ended questions. Ones that start with “what” or “how” are best because it’s very hard to answer then with just yes or no.

--

Label emotions

Respond to their emotions by saying “Sounds like you’re angry” or “Sounds like this really upsets you.” Neuroscience research shows that giving a name to feelings helps reduce their intensity.

--

Make them think

Al Bernstein likes to ask “What would you like me to do?” This forces them to consider options and think instead of just vent.

--

Walter sat down and counted all the people who had helped him become a success. He would call them “my forty-four.” Forty-four people. 

--

Low self-confidence may turn you into a pessimist, but when pessimism teams-up with ambition it often produces outstanding performance. To be the very best at anything, you will need to be your harshest critic, and that is almost impossible when your starting point is high self-confidence.

-- Tomas Chamorr-Premuzic

--

Research shows increasing self-compassion has all the benefits of self-esteem -- but without the downsides. 

--

As the WSJ reports, “Those who stayed very involved in meaningful careers and worked the hardest, lived the longest.” Meaningful work means doing something that’s (a) important to you and (b) something you’re good at.

--

“Work consists of whatever a body is obliged to do. Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do.”

-- Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer

--

Psychologists have realized that burnout isn’t just an acute overdose of stress; it’s pretty much plain ol’ clinical depression.

--

To be really creative, you need to step out of that hyper-focused state of tension and let your mind wander.

--

You need a personal definition of success. Looking around you to see if you’re succeeding is no longer a realistic option. Trying to be a relative success compared to others is dangerous. This means your level of effort and investment is determined by theirs, which keeps you running full speed ball the time to keep up. Vaguely saying you want to “be number one” isn’t remotely practical in a global competition where others are willing to go 24/7. We wanted options and flexibility. we got them. Now there are no boundaries. You can no longer look outside yourself to determine when to stop. The world will always tell you to just keep going.

--

“Success is something you will confront constantly in business. You will always be interpreting it against something, and that something should be your own goals and purpose.”

- Ken Hakuta

--

Four metrics that matter most

Happiness: having feelings of pleasure or contentment in and about your life

Achievement: achieving accomplsihments that compare favorably against similar goals others have strived for

Significance: having a positive impact on people you care about

Legacy: establishing your values or accomplishments in ways that help others find future success

--

Maximizing is exploring all the options, weighing them, and trying to get the best. Satisficing is thinking about what you need and picking the first thing that fulfills those needs. Satisficing is living by “good enough.”

--

Ellen Galinsky did a study asking kids, “If you were granted one wish and you only have one wish that could change the way your mothers or your fathers work affects your life, what would that wish be?” Most popular answer? They wished their parents were “less stressed and less tired.

--

Write down where each hour goes as it happens. Don’t rely on your fallible memory. Do this for a week. Where are your activities taking you? Is it where you want to go? 

Note which hours are contributing to which of the big four: 

Happiness

Achievement

Significance

Legacy

--

The only way to be realistic about what you can get done in the time you have is to schedule things on a calendar instead of making an endless list.

--

At least an your a day, preferably in the morning, needs to be “protected time.”

--

What’s the most important thing to remember when it comes to success? One word: alignment.

Success is not the result of any single quality; it’s about alignment between who you are and where you choose to be. The right skill in the right role. A good person surrounded by other good people. A story that connects you with the world in a way that keeps you going. A network that helps you, and a job that leverages your natural introversion or extroversion. A level of confidence that keeps you going while learning and forgiving yourself for the inevitable failures. A balance between the big four that creates a well-rounded life with no regrets.

--

Know thyself. What are your intensifiers? Are you a Giver, a Taker, or a Matcher? Are you more introverted or more extroverted? Underconfident or overconfident? Which of the big four do you naturally fulfill an which do you consistently neglect?

--

What’s the most important type of alignment? Being connected to a group of friends and loved ones who help you become the person you want to be. Financial success is great, but to have a successful life we need happiness. Career success doesn’t always make us happy, but the research shows that happiness does bring success.