#and the world is saved (it was never at risk)

[tateypots]

Save Me A Dance

18+ MDNI

Pairing: Jackson Joel x f!reader

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: Next parts of Collared and To Keep You Safe are coming along nicely, should hopefully have those out next week. Here is something soft and sweet for Christmas Eve (it’s not set at Christmas but never mind).

This is the same pair as To Keep You Safe (Part 1 is here) but can be read as a standalone.

Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates and to everyone who doesn’t, I wish you peace and happiness.

Summary: Your patrol partner tells you to save him a dance at the Harvest Festival party.

Warnings: Misogyny (not from Joel), feelings of panic, mutual pining, idiots in love, sexual thoughts, fluff.

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Your fingers played absentmindedly with the skirt of your dress. The material so soft and luxurious, worlds away from the ever practical jeans, shirt and boots you typically donned. You felt self-conscious and ridiculous. You’d only agreed to wear it because Maria had begged you to, telling you how great it looked on you. You felt people staring at you and it made you uneasy, even if it was just because it took them a while to recognise you in this infernal dress, your hair loose down your back instead of semi-tamed into a messy braid as usual.

The Jackson harvest celebration was in full swing, the whole town seemingly crammed into the decorated hall. The whole town except the one person you actually wanted to see. Joel, your patrol partner had told you he would be coming, even told you to save him a dance.

This was the first large gathering you had dared to attend since you had arrived in Jackson and it had you on edge. Still not fully out of the habit of needing to be hyper vigilant in all situations, still not entirely believing you were safe. You needed Joel’s presence to calm you. You knew he would have your back no matter what, just like you would have his. You had formed a tight bond in the 6 months since you became his patrol partner. He was one of the few people in town you felt truly comfortable with.

You tried your best to relax, made small talk with your neighbours and acquaintances. No one asked you to dance. You had broken up with your last boyfriend Glenn not long after your arrival and in the time since not one of the single men in Jackson had even glanced your way. And while you weren’t exactly interested in any of them you’d be lying if you said their collective rejection of you as a potential partner didn’t sting just a little, especially in a town with such limited options.

But truthfully you weren’t lonely. Your friendship with Joel was precious to you. He had taught you so much in your time together, and although he could be gruff and brash and impatient at times you knew he cared deeply for those he loved. That he would risk life and limb for anyone in this town, that he had done so on many occasions. That he also had a playful side, buried beneath his menacing exterior. It hadn’t taken you long to slip into an easy camaraderie and from there the roots of friendship had grown strong and deep and now you were a permanent fixture in his life, spending much of your time within the walls with him, Ellie, Tommy and Maria. You had tried to fight the intrusive thoughts that whispered your relationship with Joel could be more than friendship. He was so handsome, so capable, he could have his pick of anyone in Jackson. Half the women in town (and some of the men) were mooning after him. You couldn’t compete with them. And you couldn’t risk losing him by admitting to a stupid crush. So you bottled it up and tried to focus on being his friend, pretending it wasn’t getting harder and harder to ignore.

You were starting to feel overwhelmed, the noise of the music and chatter overlapping, the jostling of bodies against you and the stifling heat in the room leaving you dizzy as your breaths started to become laboured, panic beginning to set in. You stumbled your way to the door, desperate for some fresh air, quiet and space. The cool night air was welcome as you stumbled out into the night, easing some of the restrictive tension you felt around your lungs. You braced yourself against the wall of the building, leaning down with your hands on your knees and taking deep steadying breaths. Where the hell was Joel?!

_____________________________________________

Pacing the floor of his bedroom, Joel was in turmoil. Had been for the last few weeks, since that day on patrol when you’d found an entire stash of medical supplies locked in a storage facility on the outskirts of a nearby town. Needles, syringes, pain meds, bandages and the holy grail, antibiotics, you’d hit the motherlode. Packing everything up and loading the horses had meant your return to Jackson was later than expected, and as you’d neared home you’d turned to him, giddy with the success of the day, the most beautiful smile adorning your face and bathed in the golden light of the sunset. You were breathtaking. Finally spotting the gates come into view you urged your horse into a canter with a laugh, shouting behind you, “keep up old man, lots to unload when we get home,” failing to notice his dumbstruck expression.

He had tried to convince himself that it was just the high from finding those life saving supplies. That he didn’t think of you that way. And he almost had himself convinced until the next time he saw you. Covered in sweat and hay and sawdust from mucking out at the stables, your cheeks flushed with exertion and he thought he’d never seen anyone so beautiful. He was fucked. He didn’t understand why this was happening now. You’d been friends for months and he’d never thought of you like that before. You were far too good for him. Far too precious to him to risk losing you altogether if you found out the depraved thoughts he was having about you. About your body naked and writhing under his, of the noises he could coax out of you, the way you would squeeze his cock as you came apart around him. It was as if that one sun kissed moment had unlocked something in his brain that he could not contain now that that it was free. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t bear the thought of cutting himself off from you. And there was no way you could possibly reciprocate and he couldn’t face losing you

So he tried his best to bury it, carry on as normal, pretend he wasn’t drowning in desire for you. But today, he’d opened his stupid mouth and put his foot right in it. Telling you to save him a dance, like there was any chance he could be that close to you, have you in his arms and ever let you go again. So yeah he was fucked. He was also very late. He knew you’d been nervous about going, that you still struggled to be around large groups. And it was the thought of letting you down, you having to face it alone that finally propelled him out of his front door.

_____________________________________________

You had finally managed to get your breathing under control but your heart was still racing. Leaning back fully against the wall you closed your eyes and tried to calm down. You heard the door open and swing shut.

“Well look who it is.”

Ugh. “Hi Glenn.”

“What’s the matter princess, not having fun?”

“Just getting some air.”

He’d sauntered over to you, leaning his arm against the wall next to you. “That’s a pretty dress princess, who are you getting all dolled up for hm?”

You rolled your eyes, “no one.”

He let out a little chuckle, “that’s right I forgot. No one wants you do they? And it’s going to take more than a little dress to convince them otherwise. I did warn you princess.”

“Fuck off Glenn.” You pushed yourself off the wall, even the overwhelming crowd inside being more appealing than spending any more time with this asshole. His hand shot out and grabbed you by the bicep in a bruising grip. “Don’t you-“

“Is there a problem here?” Joel’s voiced washed over you, his presence soothing your frayed nerves and calming your pounding heart. Glenn dropped your arm and stepped back as Joel sauntered up behind you, his hand coming to rest lightly between your waist and hip. At his touch you visibly relaxed, the tension in your body seeping out of you and dissipating into the quiet night. Glenn clocked it immediately.

“Thought a woman like you had no need of a knight in shining armour,” he snarked at you.

“She ain’t the one who needed saving Glenn. Didn’t want her breaking your wrist, I’ve seen her do worse to men for less out on patrol and I’m too old and tired to be picking up extra patrol shifts cos you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. Now are we done here or do I need to go and tell Maria that you’re hassling women outside the dance hall?”

“We’re done,” he sneered, turning on his heel and stomping back through the door into the hall, slamming it behind him for good measure.

“What the hell did you ever see in him?”

“I was lonely and he was there,” you only half joked.

Joel turned you so you were facing him, his hands coming to settle on your shoulders, “I heard what he said to you. What did he mean he warned you no one would want you?”

Your arms instinctively wrapped around your middle and your gaze fixed on the ground, unable to look at him. You’d never discussed your break up with anyone, it coming so soon after your arrival in Jackson that you didn’t have anyone to confide in at the time. And by the time you and Joel had built a friendship it was old news and never brought up.

“Um, well, you know we broke up the day of the patrol trials,” you spotted Joel nodding in your periphery so you continued, “well, I guess some of the other guys made some comments while we were out and we got into a fight about it when we got back. He said I’d shown him up, made him look weak by being better than him. Told me that men want a woman who needs them to look after and protect them and if I didn’t turn down patrol and take a job in town instead he’d break up with me. That if he did I’d be alone forever because none of the other men here would be interested in having a girlfriend who emasculated them.”

He jostled your shoulders slightly, trying to coax you into looking at him, “that’s absolute nonsense sweetheart.”

You huffed a laugh, “it’s not though, he was right. It’s been 6 months and no one else has shown any interest.”

“What do you mean?”

“Joel, what do you mean, what do I mean?! You know I’ve not been on any dates since I got here, I spend all my time with you and Ellie!”

“Well yeah I knew you hadn’t been on any dates but figured you’d just been turning guys down.”

“Well I haven’t, no one has asked, most of the guys won’t even stick around long enough to have a conversation with me,” you groaned at him, your eyes squeezing shut, the mortification at discussing your undesirability with the one person you wanted to find you desirable burning through you. This night was turning out so much worse than you thought it would. “It’s fine ok, I’m not interested in any of them anyway, it just annoys me when Glenn is right.”

“Honey Glenn ain’t right,” he squeezes your shoulders before sliding his hands down to take hold of yours, “please look at me.”

You let out a deep sigh and look up at him, expecting to see pity written all over his face, instead he looks…sheepish. It’s his turn to sigh now, “I think it might be my fault. I know for a fact that there are plenty of guys here who would be interested in taking you out,” you open your mouth to protest but he shushes you and continues, “I was in the Bison with Tommy, maybe a month after we were first paired for patrol. I overheard some of the guys talking about you, arguing over who would get to be the first to ask you out. A couple of the guys started making crude comments so I stepped in, gave em’ what for, told em’ that you deserved more respect than that. One of em’ kept going, kept sayin’ things he shouldn’t so…so I punched him. Couple o’ times,” he swallowed, hanging his head, “I told em’ if I heard they’d even looked at you the wrong way they’d have to answer to me. But I swear I never meant for them to stay away from you completely, just wanted them to treat you with respect. I’m so, so sorry sweetheart.”

He was so angry with himself. He’d not even thought about it since, never imagining it would lead to you feeling so unwanted and unhappy. Had no idea that Glenn had planted that ugly seed in your head. That his own actions had helped water and tend it allowing it grow and wrap it’s prickly vines around your mind. He braced himself for your anger at his confession, for you to shout at him and tell him to stay away from you. So when you let out a melodic little giggle, his head snapped up in surprise. You had to bite your lip to contain further laughter at the look on his face, your heart so much lighter now. You weren’t completely unwanted and rejected, Joel had stood up for you and perhaps most importantly, Glenn had been wrong.

“Thank you for looking out for me,” you whisper to him, standing on your tip toes to plant a soft kiss on his cheek, missing the flush that crept across his face in the dim lighting.

“I can talk to the guys, set things straight,” he tells you. The thought of seeing you with someone else left him nauseous but he’d do anything if it made you happy.

You shake your head at him, giving his hands a gentle squeeze, “I meant what I said Joel, I’m not interested in any of them.”

Your wording dances round his brain. In any of them. His heart was beating so fast in his chest he couldn’t make out the individual beats. What if he’s reading this wrong? You’re so close it clouds his senses, lost in you as you look up at him with soft eyes and a gentle little smile.

Without a word he moves towards the door of the hall pulling you with him. You follow him easily with no resistance. Once inside he heads straight for the dancefloor just as the band starts a new song. He pulls you into him, one of his hands still cradling yours as his other settles on the small of your back. He starts to sway you side to side, his eyes never leaving yours as the lyrics start to float through the room.

“Wise men say,

Only fools rush in,

But I can’t help falling in love with you.”

The hand on your back squeezes you tighter, trying to pull you in closer despite there being not a shred of light between your bodies already. Before he even fully realises what he’s doing he’s planting a lingering kiss on your forehead. He waits for you to pull away, for you to tell him he’s got the wrong idea. But instead he feels you let out a deep sigh as your head drops forward onto his chest, eyes closed and your face the picture of contentment. You turn your head slightly to press a little kiss right over his heart before settling your cheek against his chest once more.

“Take my hand,

Take my whole life too,

For I can’t help, falling in love with you.”

He was right. He’ll never be able to let you go. But he doesn’t feel afraid like he thought he would. Because the feel of you against him is right. Feels safe and comforting but at the same time exciting and exhilarating. Because he recognises the feeling that you bring with you now. The feeling that tore down his walls faster than any other person had. That within a few patrol shifts had him sharing his past, his losses, his fears with you like he’d known you his whole life. That brightened his day whenever he knew you would be around.

Home. You felt like home and you always had.

He’d been deluding himself that he’d only recently developed these feelings. The vision of you wrapped in the golden glow of the sunset was just the first time he admitted it to himself. He should have realised the day he knocked two of Dave’s teeth out for being disrespectful about you. He should have realised every time his heart sank when it was time for you to leave after dinner, how his pulse quickened every time he made you laugh.

“Like a river flows,

Surely to the sea,

Darling, so it goes,

Some things are meant to be.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your chin resting on his chest. He gave you the softest smile that had you melting further into him. Safe. You felt safe at last, the heat from his large hand splayed over your back warming you like a security blanket. You forgot about everything else. About the dangers outside the walls. About Glenn. About all the things you had lost and all the hopes you had given up on. This was exactly where you were supposed to be. Wrapped up in Joel’s arms. And it didn’t matter to you that this was a very public affair, the whole town gathered round, eyeing the pair of you. Tommy and Ellie giddy with excitement, knowing smiles on their faces, relieved you had both finally come to your senses. The town gossips trying to ascertain how they had not seen this coming. Your ex-boyfriend glowering at the two of you on one side of the room and Joel’s ex-girlfriend doing the same on the other. Because it wasn’t just physical safety Joel offered, you were more than capable of taking care of yourself on that front. It was emotional. He knew you better than anyone. Never made you feel self-conscious about the goofier sides of your personality, never ridiculed you for fears and tendencies you knew were irrational. Never made you feel bad for being able to take care of yourself or asked you to make yourself lesser for his comfort. He’d always accepted you as you were, warts and all. You knew he’d protect you with everything he had and you would do the same for him. So no one else’s opinion mattered.

“Take my hand,

Take my whole life too,

For I can’t help, falling in love with you.”

The song ends but Joel doesn’t release you from his hold, his hand remaining steady on your back as he brings the other to gently cup your cheek as his forehead falls to rest against yours. Your eyes drift close and your head turns in his hand to place a soft kiss on his palm.

You twine your arms around his neck and collapse into his chest once again, listening to the steady but rapid beat of his heart. Both of you had completely zoned out the noise of the dance carrying on around you so it is a shock when you feel yourselves being jostled by others on the crowded dancefloor. Snapping back to reality he feels rather than hears you giggling against his chest. He’s all at once overjoyed to feel you against him and pissed that it’s so loud inside the hall that he missed the sound of your laugh. He takes your hand in his and pulls you out into the night.

You don’t even question it as he starts leading you back to his house, you’d follow him anywhere. No words are passed between the two of you as you continue to bask in the high of having Joel’s arms around you.

He keeps waiting for you to come to your senses, to realise you don’t want a miserable old man like him and his heart breaks when you tug on his arm to stop him once you reach the top of Rancher Street. This is it. He braces himself. But instead of pulling away you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and standing on your tip toes to reach up and push your lips against his, your tongue swiping at his bottom lip. He immediately grants you access to his mouth, pulling you in close to him, one hand on your back and the other cradling the back of your head. Your kiss is passionate and frantic, you pour everything into it, laying yourself bare for him, and he answers in kind.

When you break the kiss, panting for air you sink back onto your heels and your hands trail to his chest.

“Sorry, couldn’t wait any longer,” you confess to him.

“Don’ need to apologise sweet girl. These lips belong to you, can have em’ whenever you want.”

You bite your lip and smirk up at him, “just your lips?”

“Greedy girl,” he growls out, dropping his hand to pull you closer to him by your ass cheek, squeezing the fleshy globe for good measure making you giggle, “all o’ me darlin’, I’m all yours.”

“And I’m all yours.”

“Good,” he smirks at you. You let out a shriek as he bends to hoist you over his shoulder before striding purposely towards his house. “Joel, what are you doing?!” you chuckle at him.

“No more distractions baby, I need to look over what’s mine.”

[scripts4dreamers]

Me and my one (1) friend who has also had their brain corrupted by the blight (dragon age) have been fighting about this for two days but I’m so sure I’m right, so I humbly present my thesis to you lovely people.

1. After the events of the Veilguard, if Rook and Neve ended up together, Neve tries to leave you.

LET ME EXPLAIN! (Spoilers for the Veilguard ending)

I love Neve. She’s my favorite romance from Veilguard, she’s an incredible character and she does not deserve all the hate she gets. Having said that, she does 1000% try and leave Rook.

The one thing we know about Neve, almost from the moment we meet her, is that she is not a believer. She doesn’t believe Solas is a god, at first, she doesn’t believe anyone will have her back, she doesn’t believe Minrathous will improve and she doesn’t believe she’s going to survive this job. But still she fights on, not out of a genuine belief that she can win, but because she has a soft spot for lost causes.

Neve has devoted her life to being the champion of lost causes. She tells Rook that, even if this job doesn’t get her, one of them will. She risks her life, day in and day out, in service of a city that has done nothing but hurt her. Neve believes she’s a dead woman walking, and all she wants to do is go down protecting the people of Dock Town because someone has to. Someone has to.

And then she meets Rook and Harding and now gods are real, and they’re destroying the world and oh well everything was always going to go down in flames, so why not help out? She’s always been a magnet for bad news, for bad luck, for the worst of humanity, so why not spend her last days fighting for what little good is left?

She tries to fight falling for Rook, but they’re everything she wishes the world could be. They’re the lifeline she’s been waiting for since before the world forced her to stop believing. They’re good and kind and full of life and how can she do anything but love them for that? But she’s already dead, they’re both already dead and she can’t survive another loss.

She throws herself into loving them only after she lost them to the Fade. Only after Harding/Davrin died. After her world already ended, because that’s when she really realizes how quickly it can all end and how much time she wasted pushing people away. The goddamn WORLD IS ENDING and the person you love is THERE and they’re REAL and they WANT YOU, so why not? What is there to lose? It’s easy to love someone when the world is ending. It’s easy to love someone when you’re both already doomed.

But then the world doesn’t end. The sun rises on a blighted Minrathous and they’re both still alive, and now she’s faced with rebuilding. There’s so much work to be done, she’s a bloody, scarred mess and the job she was brought in for is over, isn’t it? She’s not a cool noir detective who died saving the world anymore, she’s someone’s partner, someone’s friend and lover and those aren’t jobs she had ever prepared herself to take.

Suddenly, without the haze of panic and the urgency of stopping the gods, things look different. She needs a new apartment. Minrathous needs a detective. Life goes back to normal and Neve still isn’t a believer.

Of course, everyone says they’ll stay in touch. Bonds formed that can never be broken and all that, but Neve knows better. You don’t hang around once the party is over. You don’t give the world more ways to hurt you, more people to take. You don’t give people a chance to leave you.

So she leaves first.

She regrets it. She hates herself for it. She cries herself to sleep wondering how she could be such a coward, but she leaves. She packs a bag, writes a goodbye letter and leaves before morning.

Now, do I think her and Rook get back together? Absolutely I do. I just think that, with all the events of Veilguard happening in such a short time, there’s going to be some major questions for all the companions once the dust settles, and leaving before you can be left is Neve Gallus’ answer to those questions.

[maxdibert]

People always complain that Harry “forgave” Severus too easily, especially with the whole naming-his-son-after-him thing, and blah blah blah. First, let me make it clear that I think all of Harry’s kids’ names are an abomination. The fact that it seems Ginny had no say in them whatsoever is even more infuriating. I mean, I understand naming two of his kids after his dead parents, but I think it was completely unnecessary for Rowling to go as far as she did with everything else.

That said, I don’t think Harry forgave Severus. I think Harry simply understood Severus in the end. He understood why Snape was the way he was, what had led him to where he ended up, and why he had that awful personality. Harry is a character who shows an immense ability to understand the root of evil and empathize with other people’s motivations when there’s a good explanation behind them.

Harry decides not to testify against the Malfoys because he understands that, despite being a bunch of jerks, they did what they did because they had no other choice. He comes to this realization through Narcissa betraying Voldemort to save Draco and through Severus’s memories, where Snape and Dumbledore explain that Voldemort had given Draco no way out. Harry understands that Dudley spent his whole life being a jerk and a bully, heavily influenced by his parents, and that once Dudley became aware of how awful his behavior was, he regretted it and apologized.

It’s not that Harry forgets what people did to him; it’s that he understands that people have motivations beyond simply being good or bad. When Harry understands those motivations and sees that, in the end, they choose the right path (even if it’s not in the most orthodox way), he just decides to let things be.

I think the same happened with Severus, with an added layer of gratitude for realizing that, despite being a jerk, the guy ultimately worked to make sure neither Harry nor his friends ended up dead. Even though Snape couldn’t stand to look Harry in the eye, he still honored his commitment to protect him and followed through with Dumbledore’s plans. And I think that’s quite coherent on Harry’s part because, as kids, we tend to see things in black and white. But for those of us who’ve had to live with highly dysfunctional adults whose behavior we couldn’t stand, we often realize as adults that the problem came from not understanding the root of those behaviors. Understanding them doesn’t make those actions any better, nor does it make us forget what they did, but it does bring a certain peace because we can finally rationalize a motive. That makes it easier to close those chapters of our lives.

Harry understood why Severus did what he did. He understood that, despite everything, Snape risked and ultimately lost his life for a good cause, that he was willing to bear the role of the villain and endure loneliness for most of his life to maintain his cover. Snape sacrificed everything—his youth, his reputation, his personal ambitions, and his own life—to repay a debt. He always did what needed to be done, especially the things no one else wanted to do. Severus did the dirty work, and Harry recognized and valued that, which is why he considered him an incredibly brave man.

Dumbledore himself said that it takes a great deal of courage to stand up to your enemies, but even more to stand up to your friends. Severus stood up to both—friends and enemies. He constantly navigated between two worlds to which he never fully belonged or was truly accepted, much like the dichotomy between his magical and Muggle heritage. But he faced it all and kept going. That’s what Harry recognized, that’s what Harry valued, and that’s why he decided to clear Snape’s name and ensure he was acknowledged.

The fact that Harry could understand this while so many people continue to reduce Severus to a creepy, obsessive, and bitter man says a lot about some people’s lack of reading comprehension and others’ lack of empathy.

[baatarthefirst]

You're Doing Fantastic, Sweetie!

Why should Janai spare him? So he can cause more unrest and death for the sunfire elves? I don't care how the show frames it as an act of bitter anger. I don't care if the six horns look at each other with worried expressions. I don't care if even Amaya appeals to him one last time (though that comes across more as 'I wish you would die, but your death would break my wife's heart, so here I am, sharing my experiences'). Janai did good here. She's being reasonable, even merciful with everyone, including Karim. The army got mislead, so they're being pardoned with the understanding that this is their last chance. When she finds out Miyana is pregnant, she doesn't set her execution for the day after the birth, she lets her live under the condition that she will never have the power to mislead anyone ever again. She even gives Karim the same chance. He gives up his name, and he goes free to live with Miyana and raise his child. She gave him a third chance, even after telling the army there wouldn't be one. But he refuses to take it. Aggressively refuses. In fact, he's angry that she spared his own followers; she showed her weakness (truly an elf who should be responsible for the safety and welfare of an entire kingdom...)

So here she shows a moment of sadness, but steels herself and follows through. Because Karim may be her brother, but he is an unrepentant threat.

She's given him chance after chance, and all he's ever done is pay her back with aggression which has always led to casualties. She banished him instead of killing him- he sends Kim'dael to steal the sun seed and guards are killed. She lets Ezran take an offer of peace to him and his army, and he choses war. Some elves must have died in the battle.

And then there's Janai herself. He has tried to kill her in a duel, he's tried to kill her in a hostage situation, and he's tried to kill her using Sol Regem. Three times, he's tried to kill his own sister. Despite his claims, he hates Janai; the fact that she's his sister means nothing.

And now, perhaps worst of all, he only cares about his heir (Not his child), as a chance to finally kill Janai and finally bring about a "Great" Sunfire Empire. Does he want to live so his child will have him around like Miyana? No. Of course not. He would rather die than have peace. He's still planning violence and retribution while on death row. So why does the show take the stance that it is somehow evil, or at least the first step on a dark path, to stop risking innocent lives to save one remorseless villain?

And another thing: He betrays them to Aaravos later. He would rather let the world burn, including his own S.O. and child, than lose. After all the frame work, the music, the angles, the people saying things like 'he's your brother' (as if that didn't just make the betrayal worse), they proved her right; sparing him would have been a mistake.

[seikkoi]

ᴡɪᴛʜᴇʀ | j.barnes x f!reader

READ ON AO3

Your words hang in the air like laundry on a rainy day–pointless and unchanging in purpose. The empty space dares him to say something back, but the more time passes, the less sure he seems. His mouth opens and closes, jaw tense and fighting against something inside.

“I can’t be what you need.”

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. post-snap au, secondary character death, implied/referenced abortion, survivor's guilt, grief, ptsd, etc., explicit mentions of alcohol, angst, hurt with absolutely no comfort, no y/n usage word count: 5.1k

“James–” you try to call out, and the syllables die in your throat.

He pauses at the threshold, shoulders slump. 

“I can’t,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you.

The walls thunder when the door slams behind him, leaving a silence empty enough to hear your own pulse. It’s quick, adrenaline still rushing and heat still dancing on your tongue. Even though you feel defeated in your own right. You thought you would have so much more to say, so much more anger to let out. Insults and frustrations you’ve buried over months. But your admission had sliced deep enough, and Bucky was clearly uninterested in staying for round two. 

It wasn’t meant to end like this, you weren’t supposed to tell him like this. You had anxiously prepared for this conversation, waiting for a night he was sober enough to remember you existed. He’d call over and over from midnight to two in the morning, breaking your will with every ring until you answered and save him from whatever hole he was drowning in. Or, he’d show up and plead for you through the door. You obliged him every time, saying it was for your neighbors peace and not your own. But that was a lie, it was for you–each time. 

You couldn’t stand leaving him alone and broken, and he needed that. He needed someone to care. Something solid, safe. You were a journalist–not risking your life everyday and grounded enough to understand why he still did. 

Yeah, he wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore, but that wasn’t stopping him. He wanted to pay the world back. Do anything to make all the terror worth it. It didn’t matter that the toll could never be paid in full, that the universe never asked for retribution. He didn’t think he deserved to have anything else. 

In the beginning, after HYDRA fell, it gave him purpose. He started to feel normal. Steve pulled him back into the world a year ago when all he wanted to do was hide away. He thought he could, thought he was ready. It felt good to save people instead of harm. To have children reach for him in safety. He listened to Sam and attended the veteran’s meetings. He didn’t need to share for everyone to know who he was–the sight of the brooding, gloved man in the corner with dark eyes told enough on its own. He soaked in the stories of others, taking solace in knowing no one experience was unique. 

He started going out, living. Steve and Sam drag him to the gym a few times a week, which inevitably spirals into the gym and lunch afterwards. On Sam’s birthday, he guilts Bucky and Steve into ‘just one shot’, which, of course, inevitably spirals into several shots and a few beers.

Bucky won’t say it then, but it’s the most normal he’s felt since 1945. He watches Steve make a passionate argument for English beers (to Sam’s dismay), and swears he watched him make the same argument 50 years ago in a bar two boroughs over. 

He had gained the courage to venture the city on his lonesome. It was overwhelming and exhilarating. Streets he thought he knew like the back of his hand had completely transformed, and totems he thought would be long forgotten stood the test of time. 

He winds up back in Brooklyn, strolling the outskirts of his old neighborhood. He didn’t dare pass the frontier, not yet. Still, it felt good to be this close. The streets were different now—sleeker, polished, bustling with a new generation of dreamers—but their roots carried the scent of home. The barbershop he used to frequent is now home to an upscale coffee shop. The old brick facade is now limestone white, and he honestly might prefer it that way. 

He had another few blocks of reminiscing to do, but the door swings open as a young couple emerges in high spirits, carrying a very enticing croissant and a mouth watering smell to match.

He doesn’t catch you on the other side of the glass–looking away from your laptop to catch some leather-bound brood get seduced by a pastry. You chuckle as the choice seems to take him very little time to make, stopping just long enough to watch the couple walk by and catch the door behind them. 

He seems innocent enough despite the heavy coat and deep scowl. You can’t help turning slightly in your barstool to watch him, sticking out from the new age pop music and neon lights. You have to hide in your book when he heads for the empty seat next to you. 

“Did no one ever tell you staring was impolite?” 

You stammered an apology as he laughed and asked what you were reading. After you ramble for a minute too long, he pledges to give it a try and let you know what he thinks. 

“Same time next week?” he smiles, knocking against the counter and leaving as quickly as he entered, treat in hand. 

You didn’t want to take what he said seriously. Obviously, it was polite sarcasm. He didn’t mean it. You weren’t getting dressed and heading back to the cafe the following week because you expected him to be there or anything. No, no. You had an article to finish and that was your spot anyway. If he’s there again, it’s not because of you, it’s because of the croissant, obviously.

But he is there. Not only is he there, he’s got the book you recommended in hand. He waves the spine enthusiastically across the room when you take your place at the counter, and you try not to smile too hard. 

You didn’t think it’d spiral into anything. You hadn’t meant to ask him for his number the next week, it just sort of stumbled out–under the guise of talking about the book, of course. 

Instead, you two talk about anything but that. At first, Bucky’s shy to admit he didn’t quite get some of the references, and you happily spend a half an hour explaining Blade Runner. He begs you not to call him James out of embarrassment, and you do it anyway (eventually, it turns into a well-liked habit). You tell him about the time you tripped crossing the graduation stage, and he laughs as if he was seeing it live. 

For weeks you find yourself glued to your phone well into the early morning hours, swapping high school stories and food criticisms with such ease that you forget your giggling with one of the world’s deadliest assassins. You avoid bringing it up–you were a journalist, you read the papers. You didn’t need him to relive that to you. Especially when you were both too busy falling hard, and fast. Phone calls turn into dinners that turn into him spending the night in your bed. 

Before you know it, you’re spending your Sundays watching him completely fail a pancake flip in your kitchen. There’s warmth in the air, in your ribs. Settled and comforting in a way you never knew you needed. And then he presents his blob shaped creation like a true work of art and you realize you don't want that feeling to go anywhere. 

He brought that into your life, swelling and warm with every terrible pancake flip, soft smile, or kiss to your cheek.

And Bucky was better for it. To know he could love, to be loved in return. It grounded him more than any ghost walks through the old neighborhood ever would. This, what he had with you, it was here now. 

Maybe the fight could truly be over. Maybe he was finally safe. 

And then, Thanos happens.

It is the worst month of your life. You go from slow dancing in the living room, leaning against him and taking in the calm of his heartbeat, to watching the news in horror as Thanos’ army came to Earth. Scotland, New York, Wakanda. Footage of smoke rising in great plumes, painting the skyline with streaks of ash and chaos. Alien ships hover like vultures, dropping black-armored creatures into the streets below. And somewhere in that chaos was Bucky.

Or so you had hoped. Girlfriends weren’t high on the SHIELD update chain, and his location was confidential regardless. So, for 28 days, all you could do was watch the chaos unfold from the other side of the screen. On day twenty-nine, you woke up to find that half the world had vanished without a trace. You call Sam over and over, praying that he was okay, that Bucky was okay. 

No one answers, and for another three days you sit alone in your apartment swallowed whole by grief. Friends, family, the blonde barista at the coffee shop, and the man you barely got to love. 

A knock at the door pulls you from your stupor, eyes raw and cheeks red. And when the door swings open, your world tilts again. 

“Hey, doll.”

He says it so casually, like he’d just step out for an afternoon, not over a month. There’s a cascade of bruises on his face, a pristine bandage wrapped around his arm, but he’s there. Alive. Flesh and Bone.

You don’t think, you leap. Your arms tangle around his shoulders, squeezing until you’re shaking. He grunts softly in surprise, but his arms wrap around you tightly, steadying you like he always does.

You sob before you can even speak, your cries muffled against his chest. His metal hand runs gently along your back.

You hoped–assumed all would return to normal now. The life you were starting didn’t need to be on hold a second longer. The world would take time to heal, sure, but for now you could go back to late night slow dances and burnt Sunday pancakes. 

But then, you hear about Sam.

He didn’t make it.

Neither did countless others Bucky had dared to call family the last few years. You listen in stunned silence as Bucky tells you, the weight of the losses hanging heavy in the air between you. His voice cracks when he mentions Steve, though he doesn’t say much else. You don’t press—what more could you possibly ask?

For a while, both of you stay shadows of yourselves, and you imagined a great deal of others followed suit. Work didn’t go anywhere–being exponentially difficult if anything. Constant reporting of the aftermath, the testimonies. You don’t admit it and you don’t quit, but you start to hate it. You run out of words to describe what happened and no one can make up their minds for quite a while. The editor-in-chief gives you sympathetic nods for every late article, but you know you’re hanging on by a thread.

At night, Bucky holds you a little too tight, and you let him.

You catch him staring out the window in the early morning. Sharp lines draw on his face and you wonder if what you write is nearly half as bad as what he’s seen. It’s the only time you wonder what he’s done, what any of this has truly been like for him.

Truthfully, it’s hell. 

For weeks now he’d pulled countless mangled bodies from rubble, killed heartless scavengers who wouldn’t put the damn gun down, and watched the world he started to love again fall apart. And the rebuilding effort was estimated to take years. He didn’t have years of this in him. 

And who's to say Thanos was done? He had the stone, all the power in the universe to squander them at a moment's notice. Two of the strongest people he knew, gone with a single snap. 

“Why wasn’t it me?” he thinks, staring down an empty glass. 

The compound was eerily empty, with Stark still M.I.A and everyone else busy putting out fires at all corners of the globe. Pepper couldn’t stand the silence and left for her parents’ house in Boston. Bucky doesn’t even know what he’s doing here. He should be out there like everyone else–helping more, looking Tony, or supporting you. But it’s 2 am and he’s stuck, unable to face anyone and unable to cry. 

The fight would never be over. And he would never be able to keep anyone safe.

So he pulls away. Like night and day you go from two ghostly shadows, dancing in charred grief to nuclear reactions, ready to set the other off at a moment's notice. He can't cope and you can hardly move on, but you are moving. You push Bucky to do the same and it never ends well. It’s easier for you, and you know that. You’re constantly reminded of the devastation behind the thin veil of pictures and text. There is no separation for Bucky. Every cry, every hint of death and absence, floods his senses until it’s all his brain can compute.

The world is gone.

In a flash of anger, he throws the bottle against the refrigerator and takes pride in the shatter. F.R.I.D.A.Y is smart enough not to offer assistance. 

Peace was at his fingertips. He felt it. He missed it. Watching Steve and Sam argue about the most trivial topics. Listening to you ramble at 3 am about bad romance novels. Seeing actual joy in strangers on the street. Being in the world when it felt whole again.

Now, he can’t look at you without thinking of loss. The folly of love. Pain would always lurk on the horizon. He could try over and over to rebuild. It didn’t matter and it never would. The universe was a cruel bitch–and nowhere knew through him by the looks of it. Every night he goes to sleep with a heavy ache in his heart. A miasma that sits on his chest and stares at him through his dreams. In the morning, it follows him from place to place. Watching, waiting to swallow him whole.

When Bucky comes to you later that evening reeking of sorrow, you have a look that he can’t place. He thinks you can see it, the dread stalking him. The emptiness. He can’t take it and leaves as soon as he arrives. With each passing day, he pulls away more, and more and more. It’s better to lose you this way. 

It doesn’t stop you from calling and sometimes he answers. Some days he shows up and holds you like nothing ever happened. He loses his grief in the soft corners of your body, and you let him. It helps you too. You find yourself all the same, soaking in his weight against the mattress. It’s hopeful, the way he touches you. Delicate, precise–not in pleasure but in preservation. He breaks you apart until you’re left to just the finest parts. Thinking of nothing but him, wanting nothing but him. Hungry teeth mark the soft flesh at your pulse, the skin on your inner thigh. All to catalogue the noises you make, to feel your nails dig into his shoulders. He does this for his own memory, savouring as much of you as you can before you’re gone for good.  He knows it’s inevitable. 

It’s always been inevitable.

In the morning, it’s lost all over again when he disappears, leaving the scent of mulberry and whiskey behind. 

Carol finds Nebula and Tony in cold space. Battered, starving, and a moment away from slow death. Bucky had a dust of hope left that the genius had one more trick up his sleeve. A month passes while he recovers, then weeks. After a year Pepper and Tony find a quaint cabin up north to forget. Or maybe to start over? Bucky can’t tell and he gets too mad at his absence to care. Tony Stark got to stop being Iron Man and all James wishes for is to stop being Bucky.

The time between his late-night visits as the miasma greedily feeds. The loneliness and old memories stops either of you from saying what needs to be said. It’s harder and harder for him to face you. Each time Bucky leaves you craving what you had before, while still giving you hope it might come back.

He stops coming to the cafe altogether. Stopped calling. The man who once lit up your entire world now burned through whiskey like it was water, each sip drowning him a little further

The day you find out, it’s bittersweet, and you dared to hope again. You picture, even if just for a second, a bright future. Burnt pancakes with an extra plate, soft laughter from the dinner table as you and Bucky waltz around the kitchen–you picture it all in such a sharp flash. A reason for both of you to hope again. It’s vivid and near disorienting. You sit against the bathroom wall staring at the pink double lines. 

Out of instinct and burning joy, you called Bucky, heart racing and a smile creeping onto your face. 

It rings once. Twice. Three Times. And then voicemail. 

And then you remember who Bucky is, or rather who he’s becoming.

And your heart sinks.

For two days you cry and wait. That he’d call back, that this time he had a reason. That the universe wasn’t giving you an enormous final sign. 

Each day blurs into the next  and you’re forced to face the music. The future you pictured, it would never be reality. In reality, things continued to deteriorate. Just as Bucky realized anything could take you away from him, you realized he was already gone. Sure, he survived the snap, but he wasn’t living. He perished just the same. You were left with a man hollow from far more than just grief. And a man who could never be a father. That peaceful future could never exist because this world would never give you peace. 

Children weren’t a part of your life plan. You couldn’t do it on your own and you knew that. You weren’t sure you could do it under any circumstances. But you certainly couldn’t in this world. Not now. 

So you made a choice, alone. You called Bucky again before making the appointment, to no answer. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell a friend, sunken by anger and sadness you can’t. You go alone, drive home alone, and cry alone for two weeks. 

You start to think this time he’s never coming back. Your decision feels justified, righteous, and forty times worse. The bed sheets maintain a perfect shape for you to hide in. Not from Bucky. No, you wish he’d seek you out. At your absolute worst and wanting him the most. Even though you knew you should hate him, cast him aside in your mind. 

But you just can’t. Call it loneliness or stupidity–it didn’t matter. You keep a sliver of hope that he waltzes right back into your life, this time as himself, whole. Unbroken and ready to belt Frank Sinatra down the empty streets as he walks you home. You could loop his arms in his again and lean steady on his weight once more. 

Maybe you got desperate for it. While the weeks stretched into another month, and you had to keep living. People seemed to fill the gaps others left behind. Deadlines came back, along with birthdays, sports tournaments, and holidays. There was always an air of despair to everything, though. Tributes and memorials were constant, and the topic never truly left public discussion. It simply changed from a thing that was happening, to a thing that had happened. 

You met new people, a lot, in fact. A few even ask you out. Each time you turn them down, lying about you weren’t ready for dating yet or that work was too hectic. Truthfully, the thought of being with anyone else felt like an act of betrayal. Logically, after twenty seven days (because yes, you were counting) of missed calls and ignored texts, one might assume any romantic relationship did, or should come to end. But not you, not with Bucky. 

You didn’t want anyone else. But he wasn’t here. 

On day thirty four, a heavy knock wakes you around midnight. You’re half-asleep, shivering in your night-gown and wishing you wore something warmer to bed when you answer. 

Bucky slouches against the door frame, clothes wrinkled and eyes glinting. He looks at you for a second, just long enough for you to see the anguish stalking him, before he crosses into your apartment–taking your face between his palms and kissing you.

You don’t think, only react. You never do on these nights, the nights he bothers to remember you and you’re desperate enough to let him in. You react to the liquor-stained tongue dancing in your mouth, his hands finding your hips and pushing yours against the wall. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, and when his hands paw at the silk of your nightgown, you untie it for him. 

You don’t think as tears flood the back of your eyes, just as desperate as you are for release. It’s love, anger, need, and grief in their most convoluted form–working together and fogging your mind. 

You don’t think when he lifts you around his waist, tongue still searching for peace behind your lips. It’s been long, too long for both of you. Too many nights and days spent praying he’d come back to you. He lays you down on your bed, trailing down your body and leaving you breathless. You can hardly see him in the dark room. A shadow, lighting your nerves on fire without a single word. 

Some shifts. Perhaps it comes from the way he pauses at your hip. Fleeting and haunting. Recoiling as if the bone will break skin to seek him out. Livid that he would dare to take more than he deserves.

You don't think, and misread his hesitation as a chance to take control. Flip the script. Leave him a wanting mess. You don’t want to give yourself any time in reality. You want to pretend this is one of your first times. Before the world bowed under its own weight. Before you Bucky became your curse.  And thinking is antithetical to whatever currently happens between you two in these four walls. 

Your hands graze the lines of his jaw in the dark, finding full hairs where your mind remembers itchy stubble. Too much time has passed. You don’t think, pulling him back towards you and capturing his lips, trying to mimic the hungry passion he showed you at the door. 

He doesn’t show you any return and you would think to stop, but you aren’t there yet. You try harder, until his arms braces your forearm. The cold metal grounds you and forces you to find his eyes in the shadows. 

“This is wrong, I shouldn’t be here.” he whispers, almost like he’s speaking to himself.  You hold his gaze briefly before it darts to the floor. 

Your heart sinks like a stone. Your ribcage wants to tighten around it. 

You tighten your nightgown instead. 

“Don’t,” you plead, but Bucky was already pulling away, fingers curling into fists at his sides. 

“I mean it.” he took another step back, and the stone reaches your stomach. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“Can’t?” you shot up, more sharp and cutting than you thought. “What the hell does that mean, James? You can’t? After everything–” 

He knows you're using his birth name out of anger, but even then he relishes in the way it sounds on your tongue. 

He still doesn’t bear to look at you, shoulders slumping. “I shouldn’t have come here, I should’ve known better.”

The laugh that breaks out of you isn’t a laugh at all. It was something jagged and bitter. You leave your bed to face him, refusing to let him ignore the hurt he’s causing.

“You should’ve known better? Now what, you disappear again and call it noble this time?”

“I’m trying to do what’s best for you! I’m trying to protect you!” he snapped, loud enough to echo. 

“Protect me from what? From you?” you repeat, incredulous. The words taste sour. 

“Yes!” he burst out, voice high and raw. “You don’t need this–you don’t need me.”

Breaths can barely leave your throat. You think this is what people always meant when they said they were ‘seeing red’. You want to ask if he thinks you needed him after losing half of everyone you cared about, too. After eight hours a day writing about tragedies that somehow felt two feet in front of you despite happening thousands of miles away.

“I can’t believe I thought you could ever be a father–that we might have a family.” It’s an admission you mean to keep in your head, but it spills out in a tangled mess with your tears before you can realize what you’re saying. 

Bucky snaps his head up. His jaw clenches, and for a moment, it looks like he’s going to argue. But the weight of your words seems to register. He doesn’t say anything, and the silence is suffocating. You feel the space between you both stretching, threatening to snap. He finally meets your eyes, and the vulnerability there almost breaks you again.

“What are you talking about?” He knows the answer to his own question. But he wants to be wrong. He prays to be wrong.

“I was pregnant and you couldn’t even pick up the phone.” you grit, trying not to yell, cry, or some combination of both. You fail, and your sparse tears turn into full streams. “I didn’t know what to do–I was alone.”

“When were you going to tell me?” His tone is low, in a confused attempt to process, but all you hear is blame. 

“I tried! For weeks! I couldn’t just wait on the sidelines for you to love me again, I couldn’t do this without you and you weren’t here!”��

“You don’t understand,” he mutters, his voice cracking under your anger. 

“Then help me understand!” you plead, stepping closer, your heart pounding against your ribs. “Help me understand why I had to make that choice alone.”

“I’ve lost everything,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Everything I’ve ever cared about. And I can’t—I won’t—put you in that same category.”

You stare at him, your chest tightening with both frustration and heartache. “So, what, you just decide to give up? Walk away and lose me anyway?” 

“That’s not what this is–I’m not giving up,” he insists, though there's a lack of conviction in his voice. 

“Bullshit, you’re just a coward–you’re giving up because it’s easy and staying here and making things work is harder.”

Bucky froze, his jaw tightening as your words settled between them like a storm cloud. His voice was low, measured, but laced with contempt.

“Don’t give me that crap, There’s nothing easy about letting you go.”

“You don’t get to talk to me about giving up, Bucky. Not when you’re the one walking away. Not again.”

“You think I’m just cutting myself off from everything, throwing my entire life away, throwing you away, leaving every last thing I know and care about behind, because I want the easy life?” He stepped closer, his eyes blazing. 

“It was never that easy for me to do this—with you, with anyone! It was so much easier for me to go on thinking there was something I could do to make a real difference, but I know now—” His voice cracked slightly, and he ran a hand through his hair. 

“I know now there’s nothing I can do. The only path everything leads to is everything being ripped away from me.”

You shook your head, voice sharp. “That’s a lie, and you know it.”

“If I could do something to be at peace,” he continued, his voice still rising, “then I’d do it. I swear to you that I would. But it’s all just... waiting to slip through my fingers, leaving nothing behind.”

“That’s not true!” you snapped, your fists clenching. “You’re the one letting it all slip away, Bucky. Not fate, not some unstoppable force—you.”

“Bullshit!” His words were a snarl now, his hands clenched at his sides as though he didn’t know where else to put the anger. “What do you know? What the hell do you actually know about me, huh?”

Her lips parted, but he didn’t wait for an answer. “Nothing! I’ll tell you what kind of man I really am.” His voice softened, the anger bleeding into something more resigned. “I had nothing when I started, and I’ll have nothing when this nightmare finally ends. And I’m not wasting your life too.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me!” you shouted, stepping forward. “You don’t get to play martyr and act like I’m just collateral damage in whatever war you’re fighting with yourself. I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

“You know I’m right,” he bit out, his voice suddenly colder, quieter. “You knew it when you decided to end it–and I don’t blame you.”

There isn’t any air left in the room.

“I’m an empty shell. There’s nothing inside me at all. I know there isn’t. Guess that’s obvious. Anybody could see that. Before Steve got me, before I met you...” Bucky laughed bitterly, shaking his head.

You don’t know what to say. You don’t know how to fix this. You want to start over.

“Do you have any idea what I did with my life? I hurt people, I terrorized people, that’s what. I’ve never done a single honorable thing.” He looked at you with glossy eyes.

“You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to decide that nothing good has ever come from you, just so you can justify giving up. You don’t get to rewrite everything, Bucky.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, trembling with frustration and hurt.

Your words hang in the air like laundry on a rainy day–pointless and unchanging in any purpose. The empty space dares him to say something back, but the more time passes, the less sure he seems. His mouth opens and closes, jaw tense and fighting against something inside.

“I can’t be what you need.”

It’s soft and final.

Before you can even process it, he turns sharply, heading out your bedroom and to the front door. Each thud of boots feels heavier, more deliberate. 

“James–” you try to call out, and the syllables die in your throat.

He pauses at the threshold, shoulders slump. 

“I can’t,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you.

And then, without another word, the door slams behind him with a force that rattles your bones.

You stand there in the dark, the silence swallowing you whole. The words you want to say, the things you wish you could take back, settle into the pit of your stomach like stones.

But he's gone, turning into a ghost once more. And for the first time in a long while, you know he won’t be coming back to haunt you. 

[ comments & reblogs appreciated ♡ thx for reading ]

[enby--ghost]

Hello

My name is Aya, and I am reaching out from Gaza, where my family and I are living in constant fear and suffering. Every moment poses a grave danger to our lives due to the ongoing war. The bombing never ceases, and we are running out of food and water.

Every passing minute increases our risk, and our hearts are filled with anxiety and pain. I urgently need your help to evacuate my family from this hell. We are desperately seeking a way out, but we need financial support to do so.😔😔

Please, extend a hand to save us and let the world hear our cries.💔💔

✅️ Verified by @gazavetters, my number on the list is (#217) ✅️

Best regards,

Aya.

https://gofund.me/4f615392

.

[moeblob]

Rey, who is in my very biased opinion, one of the funniest "girls" I have because she's just a guy, truly. Like Rey is just short for Reynold because he was recruited by a a goddess to help the hero she selected and the hero is conveniently Reynold's younger brother. So he agrees to help under the condition that the goddess gives him a female body for the other world. She's like "really odd flex but whatever" and gives him a female form and he's like "you know. I can't really blame anyone but myself for not specifying 'please don't turn me into a Lisa Frank personification'."

[carefulfears]

txf30 day 4: favorite dynamic (besides the obvious): scully/mulder/skinner

y’all mind if i ramble for a second?? there are so many connections that are so important to this story, but i always come back to these three. i think everything does.

i say that memento mori is the most loving episode of the series, but when i think about that one, it’s not even the kiss in the hallway that stays with me. it’s skinner coming in to work, the first time scully was in the hospital, and finding mulder sitting in his office. and he’s just been sitting there. bypassed the secretary (lol), and just sat and waited. he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.

and the way that skinner tells him, no. don’t do it to yourself under any circumstances. that he is not to risk himself to try to save scully. ultimately, it’s not mulder that made the deal with the devil, it’s skinner who didn’t follow his own advice. (gave up everything he has, to save them both).

and these are just two weirdos who work for him in the basement!! he doesn’t owe them anything. but he’s the one there, at the end, no matter what. he’s the one who comes to get them when they’re hurt, or lost, or need help. they’re his emergency contacts, the people who show up, the people who advocate for him. the people who know him. (the bigfoot division are a.d. skinner’s silly rabbits etc etc etc)

in iwtb, after six years away, it’s skinner who comes to get scully, on the side of the road, next to mulder’s flipped car. tells her that they will find him, that he’s okay, to breathe. it’s skinner that holds mulder on the ground, in the end.

when mulder went back to bellefleur, it's skinner that scully sent with him. that girl has never trusted a single soul to so much as breathe mulder's air, but "i won't let you go alone," is immediately followed by skinner packing the car.

like trish said last night:

i think telling scully he "lost" mulder was the hardest thing he ever did. skinner loves mulder too, but mulder is scully's entire world. and this time around, he won't let scully be alone the way mulder was.

(and the kindest thing scully ever did: squeezing his hand, saying "i already heard.")

(skinner returns the favor: he tells mulder about william, so that scully doesn't have to.)

my favorite moment in requiem is the final scene, the two of them crying together. the only two people. the only two people who know.

when she tells him that she's pregnant, he's the first to know. the only person to know, for most of her pregnancy. 18 years later, he's still the first person thinking of their baby, looking out for him.

honestly, it always comes back to sein und zeit for me. when after 7 years, after 27 years, mulder says that it's just too much, and he wants to go home. he wants time away from work. the sequence in the car: mulder in the backseat, skinner behind the wheel, scully on the passenger's side. for so many years, mulder had to be searching, so that he wouldn't be alone. but now he stands in front of two people who love him, and admits to needing a break. to wanting it to stop. he's guided, he's guarded.

skinner is a hardass. it's not easy to manage their madness. it's not easy to write the footnotes, to be the person waiting, in this particular story. but like he tells mulder, 14 years after they last worked together: not a day goes by where he doesn't just wish they were there, trying to make things better.

[landonkirbyappreciation]

It’s so absurd how they had golem Landon telling Hope that she needed to worry about Landon less and everyone else more. When Landon had literally melted, been trapped in Malivore, been trapped alone in a prison world full of monsters with no help or powers, for how many weeks, all while everyone else was safely living their lives at the school. But no, don’t worry about Landon, worry about everyone else. That sort of mentality really sums up the show though, like… Landon is in grave danger, Landon is trapped in another dimension, Landon’s body has been taken over, Landon died, Landon is trapped in purgatory, Landon lost a piece of his soul, every bad thing ever is happening to Landon but let’s not worry about any of that and focus on other irrelevant things instead. And care about anyone and anything else but him while he suffers. That was basically the show in a nutshell.

[lavender-acee]

sometimes. You must watch the final episode of saiki k reawakened and just sit there like, utterly vibrating. Foaming at the mouth. Its like Cinematic to me, you understand

[antoncrane]

Random TOW question: When visiting Phineas, do you go alone or take companions with you? (I ask because I realised that I’ve always gone to see him solo. Legit’ never once dragged anyone along.) Also I know this could have been a poll, but I genuinely enjoy hearing everyone’s reasons for doing things.

[chirpsythismorning]

🎨 🖼️ 🌈 🩹 🧍🏽💡 🔮⚡️☄️

Blue Moon by Ella Fitzgerald

previous ⏪︎ now playing ⏩ next back to playlist

[theood]

Sorry to beat the dead horse I live in lately but I'm so tired. A break from social media probably could help. If I figure out how else to occupy my time doing absolutely nothing. It's what I say every fucking day. Just wish I had friends. People my age around here to talk too. Even younger. Anything. I'm so fucking lonely. I love everyone I talk to online, I have meaningful connections with so many of you but I also haven't had meaningful conversation IRL in idk. Years probably. I haven't seen any of my old friends because we moved and I had to isolate myself because no one really wanted to hang out with me or could get here. And I really don't do anything, I can't be stressed. I can't be depressed I can't. I can't. I can't. Just like every adult in my life says. I don't know. I just wish I could actually see it's going to get better. Be better for me

[theskyexists]

You know what I think is so....there's such a pseudo respect for science on this website specifically but - just like in many societies generally - only when it speaks with authority. And yeah, the scientific method is how we're trying to find out truth about things, so we can base our decisions on this truth. At one point - you're gonna have to speak with some authority based on the research that has been done. But. So many people - in society and on this website - have not studied to become scientists. They have not learned about the scientific method. So all they see is apparently - science as authority. But science as authority is a consensus. 'Consensus' reached by multiple individual scientists who are no longer in major disagreement because so much research has been done that it SEEMS LIKE we're on to something. And yet, even then, everything may turn out to be wrong. Because people have been fabricating results for example (happened really seriously within the field of psychology) or because it turned out that most studies' methods or assumptions were less rigorous or accurate than desirable (lookin askance at economics) or the classic paradigm shift in physics where some whole new set of ideas topples earlier ones. It seems like we've reached a pretty solid idea of things. But when is that point? Very few people have been taught to recognise it. Which requires actually reading/scanning studies. Or at least good summaries. Getting a sense of what the landscape of ideas is. What are major theories and assumptions and results? (In uni, you get handed this in a course). More importantly, what is missing?? Once you go digging into any subject it generally turns out there's more gaps in understanding and especially empirical results WITH good methods than what's actually known. In uni, you're taught to recognise how researchers might have fucked up (at least, they attempt to teach this). What's solid stuff? What's rigorous research? What is valid and reliable? When is something TRUE? Here comes my personal opinion: if there's not 3- 10 citations behind a statement then you're knitting a web of maybes together. Actually it's NOT just my personal opinion, it's a major problem in scholarship and science that scientists are NOT reproducing studies because they are not rewarded for it - when the scientific method REQUIRES reproduction of results for any kind of robust 'truth' to emerge.

But most people are simply 100% not taught about HOW our societies make truth (emerge) - or rather how scientists should be doing this. They are delivered truth by the authority: science. But the nature of the scientific process delivers differing narratives, theories, hypotheses, especially until a kind of consensus is reached. So people take one study and run with it. Or 7 wildly differing studies which seem to be about the same thing but really aren't. And that's not even non-uni-educated people only, I've seen plenty of paper-publishing people knit their stuff together that way. Sometimes that's all the information there is! But though scientists are taught to point to the sources of information for statements they make - that doesn't mean that everything published is Fact. Most discussions of results would acknowledge this strenuously. Still, they're often cited that way if it suits the narrative of the paper pointing at them.

My point? Wish people would be MORE skeptical of 'science'. What? I hear you ask? More crazies who don't listen to reason? No - I just wish more people would have access to and the means to and the desire to and have respect for doing one's own research with the scientific method as FALLIBLE BUT ENDLESSLY SELF- ADJUSTING TRUTH-SEEKING MECHANISM in the backs of their minds. Which means reading. Literally just means reading, and staying critical, and recognising when things are not nearly ready to be called TRUTH yet at all and when things ARE ready to be called TRUTH (looking at climate change and its human causes and the major consensus on this).

What I mean is - again - wish people would actually read studies. Wish this was a thing taught to every child in secondary school. Otherwise you get people pointing at 30 studies about completely different arguments / completely different scope that lead back to about three studies of actual results eventually which didn't have amazing methods. And that's TRUTH and anyone who denied this Substantiated Common Sense is a moral idiot. Maybe let's do some rigorous testing first and then some pilots.

[nazmazh]

You refused to let the world refuse to change.

///

Less succinctly:

Turns out, you actually can do something about the world-ending crisis that will make the planet uninhabitable for future generations but not yourselves, instead of just leaving it for them to solve.

(If only solving climate change actually was as easy as just beating it up)

A mirror breaks

[prisonhannibal]

!! DONT SKIP !! donations urgently needed They are only at €5,561 out of €50,000 goal

I was contacted by Nader to draw pictures for and help spread his brother Abdulsalam Al-Anqar’s fundraiser to save their family. Nader is a 17 year old boy who lives in Gaza with his family: parents Ahmed (54) and mother Iman (49), brothers Abdulsalam (26), Mohammed (14), and Omar (21) and Abdulsalam’s wife and their one year old daughter Iman. Imagine it was your sibling, your friend, your son, who should be in school or with his friends, who instead has to hide from bombs and ask for help online to save his family. His family have suffered through one year of genocide. All of you are their hope to get to safety.

This fundraiser is vetted by @gazavetters, number four on the spreadsheet here

Abdulsalams daughter Iman is only one year old and has lived most her life in a war zone. She is suffering from malnutrition. It’s every fathers worst nightmare to see their child starve and not be able to feed her. Please help him feed his daughter and get her to safety. No child should grow up hearing the sound of bombs. Every child has the right to food and safety. You can help give Iman the childhood she should have, where she can sleep in a safe bed at night with a full stomach.

Their father Ahmed has cancer and needs surgery and medication. It is not possible to get the treatment he needs in Gaza. every day his illness is left untreated, the cancer will continue to spread through his body, so he very urgently needs money for treatment and travel. If you help them get to their goal, you are saving their fathers life. Don’t let this family who have already lost so much lose their father, husband, and grandfather

Nader has showed me pictures of this explosion close to them, thankfully they were able to get away. Every day they stay in Gaza their lives are at risk from israeli bombs. Every day and hour counts. I know there are compassionate and kind people who are willing to help. every euro helps, YOUR donation will bring them one moment closer to safety. With love and hope I’m asking you to give what you can, I believe in the kind people of the world and I beg you to not let them die. If you can’t donate, please share so it may reach people who can.

Never forget that palestinians are not numbers on a list of deaths. Please think of each of them, think of their names and faces and know that you can help them. I think of them every day. I think of the hopes and dreams they should achieve, I think of their education, their future, and the love they show when they work hard every day to get help. You may feel powerless to stop this genocide, but you have the power to save Abdulsalam and his family. I dream that the day will come soon where they may use their days to rest and recover from what they’ve been through, where they can share a meal and laugh and the children will play, instead of having to use their time to beg the world to listen and help them. We can make this possible.

50 000 euros is a lot of money for one person to give, but for all of us together, it can be done. Please don’t look away.

(drawing above by @neechees)

Thank you for reading their story. Please don’t keep scrolling without sharing

here is the link again to their fundraiser

tagging for reach:

@90-ghost @heritageposts @gazavetters @neechees @butchniqabi @fluoresensitive @khanger @autisticmudkip @beserkerjewel @furiousfinnstan @xinakwans @batekush @appsa @nerdyqueerr @butchsunsetshimmer @biconicfinn @stopmotionguy @willgrahamscock @strangeauthor @bryoria @shesnake @legallybrunettedotcom @lautakwah @sovietunion @evillesbianvillain @antibioware @akajustmerry @dizzymoods @ree-duh @neptunerings @explosionshark @dlxxv-vetted-donations @vague-humanoid @buttercuparry @sayruq @malcriada @sar-soor @northgazaupdates2 @feluka @dirhwangdaseul @jdon @ibtisams @sawasawako @memingursa @schoolhater @toesuckingoctober @waskuyecaozu