#and then i hit the halfway point and i realized oh. oh this is sort of a horror game. isn't it. it scared the hell outta me

[merrybloomwrites]

One Direction - Health Scare

Summary: When the workload leads to a medical emergency, the boys are there to take care of you.

Word Count: 941

CW: seizure, hospitals

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Being in One Direction is a dream come true.

It’s also the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life. The work is incredibly fun, but also extremely grueling. You have expectations on you for every waking minute. There’s hardly time for a break or rest.

When you do sleep, it’s often on a bus, and never quite as restful as you hope. 

Halfway through the current tour, you begin to really feel the exhaustion. Not only are you and the boys doing a show nearly every day, but you’re also recording the next album. On the rare occasions when you have a night in a hotel, you’re often woken up to re-record something.

You can tell you’re not the only one who is getting run down, but you also feel like the boys are handling it better than you are. 

So you keep quiet, not wanting to complain to them when they all have their own stuff going on as well.

What you don’t know is how they’ve noticed how drained you are, and have talked amongst them about it. They’re worried, but they have no clue how to help. So they try to take care of you in subtle ways.

Liam is always making sure you have water or some sort of power drink, reminding you how important it is to stay hydrated.

Niall gets you food any time he grabs some for himself. He’d noticed you would skip meals on occasion and decided he couldn’t allow that on his watch.

Zayn asks you to meditate with him, saying that he does better with a partner. You don’t realize that he often does this when you’re most stressed, and he really wants to get you to take a minute to breathe. 

Louis gets into shenanigans, making you laugh and reminding you that not everything needs to be serious all the time. 

Harry asks you to hang on the couch with him on the rare times you get breaks. He’ll wrap an arm around you and tell a story. Sometimes you sit and listen, sometimes you take a power nap. Either way he’s happy to help you get some rest whenever possible.

But all of that isn’t enough. There’s something going on in your body that no one can see. You start to get dizzy, and these spells become more frequent.

Each of the boys have caught you more than once at this point, always helping you sit down to make sure you don’t get hurt. Their worry heightens every time this happens.

And then things get worse.

It’s early morning, and you had yet another fitful night of sleep on the bus. You head to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, and find Harry and Liam already there. They wish you a good morning, and you go to say the same, but find yourself unable to form words. That’s when your world goes dark.

Harry rushes to break your fall, and notices this isn’t like the other dizzy spells. Before he gets you safely to the ground you begin to shake in his arms.

“Oh my god,” Liam says. “She’s having a seizure. Get her on her side, quickly!” The two of them move you, cushioning your head and making sure there’s nothing nearby you can hit as you continue to have convulsions. 

The other three boys rush into the kitchen, having heard Liam shouting. 

“What the hell is going on?” Louis asks.

Liam is quick to explain, saying, “She’s having a seizure. Louis, call an ambulance, Niall call management and tell them what’s going on. Zayn get the driver to pull over.” They all do as they’re told while Harry continues to support you. After nearly two minutes, the seizing stops, but you’re still quite out of it. 

You don’t fully come to for a while, and by that point you’re in the hospital, Harry by your side and security standing by the door. 

“Hey there,” Harry says. “How are you feeling?”

“Uhm, okay I think?” you reply. “What happened?” 

“You had a seizure. Scared the shit out of us,” he answers with a chuckle, letting you know he’s not actually mad.

“Sorry about that.”

“Hey, don’t apologize. We just want to figure out what’s going on with you and help you get better, okay?”

Before you can answer, a doctor walks in. She introduces herself and asks you a bunch of questions. When she asks if you know where you are you reply, “Unfair question, I never know where I am.” Your cheeky reply let’s Harry know you’re feeling better, and you share a smile at the inside joke. 

After a full workup you’re discharged with orders to see a neurologist. The other boys are waiting, somewhat impatiently, for you to get back to them. You’re informed that the upcoming week of shows have been postponed so you can rest, and you know that the boys fought hard to make that happen. 

You spend the week in a hotel, and though you each have your own room, everyone piles into yours. They watch you for any signs that you’re about to have another seizure, and Liam goes with you to your neurologist appointment in order to fill the doctor in on everything that happened. 

You don’t have answers yet, but you find that you’re not worried. Not when you have the biggest support team there to take care of you. And though your job is hard, and at times overwhelming, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. Not when it led you to find the people who will be there for you, no matter what.

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AN: Hope you enjoyed the final One Direction ficlet! Full series and longer oneshots are coming soon!

[drunk-on-dk]

[Teaser] Over the Country Club | Yoon Jeonghan (M)

pairing: best friend!Jeonghan x afab!reader genre/tags: fluff, angst, smut (minors do not interact), friends to lovers, a bit of unrequited love, a slice of life au, college au, post-grad au rating: 18+ (minors do NOT interact) w/c: ~3k TEASER (estimated ~15-20k for full fic, currently this may be my longest fic yet and it feels so good to really be writing again) warnings: mentions of alcohol (underage is not condoned), future smut

Summary: Jeonghan and you have known each other for as long as you can both remember. From the years spent working at the country club, to your university days, there has always been this aching feeling that neither of you can quite understand. Someone falls first, but the other falls harder.

A/N: Please let me know your thoughts on this teaser! I've been working hard to get back into writing in the new year and wanted to get comfortable with diving more into the plot. Things may change when the full fic is posted, but not much of what's in the teaser! I hope you enjoy it, and of course please message me if you'd like to be on the tag list for this fic!

I. 4th of July, the Summer Before the First Year of University

Just like every other high school student in your town, Jeonghan and you found part-time jobs at the oh-so-prestigious country club located in the next town over. One could argue it was practically a full-time job since most part-timers worked upwards of 40 hours a week due to how busy the club got during the summers. 

Not that you would complain about the hours; to be fair, you had to save up a substantial amount of money for the upcoming transition to college. The realization hit soon after graduating high school, you only had enough pocket change to fund some expenses,  which was not nearly enough to get you comfortably through the upcoming semesters. You had worked at the club most summers, but this year you took all the hours they offered. 

Plus, you’d be crazy to admit that summers working at the Lakewood Country Club weren’t some sort of fun. Plenty of your peers worked there, including Jeonghan, your longest lasting friendship due to the proximity of living next door to one another and growing up attached at the hip. 

Jeonghan worked as a caddie on the golf course. He’s gentlemanly in appearance, has just enough knowledge about what type of club to use at each hole, and has a never-ending spunk that entertains whatever group of golfers he’s assisting for the day. Jeonghan made decent tips working as a caddie, earning a couple of hundred dollars from some of his return golfers who specifically requested his assistance for an 18-hole outing. One could assume that most members of the country club were very well-off, or at least living comfortably. 

Luckily, you were stationed at the halfway house most days this summer. It’s located in the heart of the golf course, and the club consistently blasted cool air conditioning in the exposed, open bar area that was meant for golfers to stop by. Jeonghan, as scheming as ever, would ensure that his golfers stopped by for a quick refreshment at some point, knowing that he’d get to spend some time with you and help you earn some extra cash in tips from his already rowdy crew. 

You’d mix up some Manhattans or Old-Fashioned’s for the golfers, knowing the usual orders for each club member as if they had been engrained on the back of your hand (in hindsight, a freshly graduated high schooler should not have been pouring alcoholic beverages, but the country club didn’t care - your labor was cheaper than hiring a professional tender and you learned just the basics just fine). Nonetheless, your cocktails were a treat for the golfers who had been drinking beers for most of the course, most of them lukewarm or gone by the time they made it to the halfway house. 

Today is the Fourth of July, marking the mid-way point of your last summer before college. You had made your fair share of tips this summer working at the halfway house, especially due to Jeonghan’s consistent sourcing of clientele at your bar. It was a particularly hot day, one of the hottest of the summer and plenty of customers had stopped by, leaving hefty tips, feeling generous either from the heat or the holiday. 

Jeonghan approached the bar area with a heavy sigh, parking his cart hastily, but still had his typical mischievous smile etched onto his features as a crowd of familiar golfers followed behind him. Your nose scrunched in feigned disgust, a teasing smile mirroring his upon noticing just how tired and sweaty the group was from the relentless summer heat. 

Part of you thought he looked angelic from the way his sun-kissed skin gleamed, but you’d never admit that, nor would you dare to speak those thoughts out loud, not even to your closest friends who weren’t Jeonghan. However, the other part of you remembered he was just your silly best friend who smelled slightly like fresh-cut grass, sunscreen, and a hint of whatever remained of his tropical cologne. 

“The usuals?” You beamed, flashing your best customer service smile at the group, already reaching for the bottle of top-shelf whiskey displayed behind you. You received hoots and hollers along the lines of “Yes, please” from the group. Jeonghan slips behind the bar as you expertly begin to prepare drinks for the parched golfers. Normally, this was frowned upon, but Jeonghan had most of the country club supervisors wrapped around his finger. 

Jeonghan’s quick to sort through the fridge right off to your side, squatting and contemplating his options, but you have to smack his hand away from the cooler once you notice his deft fingers are reaching for a plastic shooter of whiskey.

“Y/N,” Jeonghan practically cries out, whining similar to a little boy being scolded, but he’s just your immature best friend who has a knack for trouble and stealing. You can’t always let him get away with everything. 

“You kleptomaniac, don’t you dare,” you joke, routinely preparing the drinks, laughing at the puppy dog eyes that are flashed in your direction and then back to the cold fridge. You bend down next to him, whispering quietly so that no one but Jeonghan can hear. “Wait until later, today’s manager has been keeping inventory of the alcohol as if they personally own it all. I can sneak some after my shift when I cash out.” 

Jeonghan’s pout morphs into a smirk, a devious glint in his eyes as he holds out his pinky finger. You comply, wrapping your pinky with his to silently promise that you’ll follow through later. 

“Meet at hole 12? Right at the hill behind the trees? It’s still the best spot for fireworks.” Jeonghan speaks as if it’s a secret mission - as if it’s not the same spot you’ve met to watch fireworks for the last few years working at the country club. 

“Oh, I thought we’d check out the views at hole 17 this year,” you roll your eyes mockingly, Jeonghan knows you’re messing with him, but it’s your smile that betrays your teasing, “Duh, Jeonghan. I’ll catch you there later.” 

“You know hole 17 is where Mingyu and Arin lost their virginity to each other last year,” Jeonghan pokes, settling on bottled water from the fridge and standing back up, towering over your own figure. You feel your cheeks flush, a bit flustered he’d drop that information so casually, and sure as hell hoping he didn’t think that you were suggesting anything. 

You didn’t see Jeonghan in that way, he didn’t see you in that way. Plain and simple. You two were only best friends and that’s how it would always be. 

“That’s gross, Jeonghan,” you scowl, willing away the blush that is still burning your face as you finish garnishing the drinks. “Don’t air out people’s secrets like that. That’s personal. Plus, why would I know that?” 

Jeonghan chuckles, shrugging as he helps you carry the drinks over to the golfers who have made themselves comfortable among the shaded seating outside the bar area, an outdoor fan helping cool them down. They all clamor in delight as Jeonghan and you emerge from behind the bar with the chilled drinks, quick to "cheers" each other before savoring the first sip of their beverages. 

There are smacks and sighs of delight from the group, your pride growing as they approve of the drinks, and gather up some cash for a tip. Jeonghan nudges you, urging you to accept the bills from Mr. Choi, a polite older man who continues to take care of Jeonghan and you each summer. He’s never been creepy, and he tips very well. You still feel slightly guilty each time you accept cash from him. 

“Thank you, Mr. Choi,” you speak graciously, accepting the tip, quickly shoving it into your pocket without checking the amount, and earning an approving thumbs up from the man as he takes another sip of his cocktail. 

“Save it wisely, Y/N,” Mr. Choi chimes, humming in thought, and eyes flickering between where you and Jeonghan stand. “Jeonghan tells me you’re both attending the same university in a few months. Heard you’ve both received a pretty good scholarship, even one from the club?” 

“That is correct, sir,” you nod excitedly. Not only had you both received an academic scholarship from your university, but all your years working at the club have paid off in a way you wouldn’t have imagined, earning a scholarship from the Lakewood Country Club members' foundation. “I am grateful to have received such an award. Don’t worry, I’ll make good use of it. I know Jeonghan will too. You’d never guess, but he’s a straight A student,” you tease, hiding your mouth only for Mr. Choi to see as if Jeonghan can’t hear you, and elbowing your friend in the rib cage, earning a pained groan from him. 

Mr. Choi nods in approval, a smile creeping onto his face as he chuckles at the dynamic between you two. “Glad to know my money is going towards two bright futures.” Jeonghan is pushing your bony elbow away, annoyed at your enthusiasm and teasing, further amusing Mr. Choi. “Jeonghan, make sure you don’t lose sight of Y/N during University, all sorts of partners will be chasing her. She’s intelligent and beautiful. Don’t want her forgetting about you now, do you?”

Jeonghan would groan if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Mr. Choi speaking to him. He has to restrain himself from shoving you away as well, knowing that Mr. Choi has inflated your ego a bit too much with his praise. Nonetheless, Jeonghan plays into it. “Nope, she’s stuck with me, so don’t even worry about it.”

You almost laugh out loud, reminding yourself to remain professional on the course as you fire back. “As if, Jeonghan couldn’t get rid of me even if he wanted to.” 

“Valid point,” Jeonghan grumbles, teasingly pushing you back towards the bar as if reminding you of your duties, sick of hearing the constant praise that only you’re receiving, even though there have been no additional visitors since Jeonghan’s entourage of golfers arrived. He’s quick to enthusiastically round up the crew, realizing daylight will quickly dwindle by the last hole if they don’t start back up soon. “Welp, we better let Y/N continue to work. Ready for hole 10?” 

The men are quick to gather, knocking back the remainder of their drinks, and returning to their carts as Jeonghan helps you clean up the finished glasses, your shoulders bumping into each other as you two push your way back into the bar. Mr. Choi sends a knowing look Jeonghan’s way, neither of you catching it as he wishes you a nice Fourth of July. 

“Thank you, Mr. Choi!” You wave to the man, bidding the rest of the golfing crew a nice holiday as well before turning to Jeonghan who’s finished carrying over the rest of the empty glasses. “Catch you later, Hannie?”

“Of course,” Jeonghan’s eyes lit up yet again upon hearing his childhood nickname, and is reminded of the nearing shenanigans later this afternoon. Maybe he’ll steal some snacks from the members gifting table for tonight. “I’ll see you then stay cool, Y/N!”

“You as well! Make sure to reapply your sunscreen,” you shout back, watching as Jeonghan hops in the cart with Mr. Choi and rolls his eyes at your nagging. Mr. Choi gets one final laugh before Jeonghan drives off, the entourage of golfers following closely behind. 

You’re finishing cleaning up the bar, pulling the cash from your pocket earlier and gasping upon realizing just how much Mr. Choi had tipped you. A five-hundred dollar tip. It was surely the most you’ve ever made in one round of drinks, absolutely unwarranted, and it made you feel a bit teary-eyed. You knew you couldn’t dare to return it, as Mr. Choi would definitely be offended, but you felt extremely lucky to have such nice members visit you at the halfway house, you’d have to thank him eventually. 

The rest of the day went quickly, and, much to your delight, you had made enough tips to support a chunk of your tuition and expenses for the year. Also, your manager had swapped shifts with another supervisor mid-day, who was not as hawklike. 

Leading up to the completion of your shift, you had snuck a pair of alcoholic shooters into your uniform skirt. Even in your attempt to be rebellious, you couldn’t just steal the shooters, using some of your tip money to cover the cost of the alcohol and you felt less criminal. You knew Jeonghan would tease you relentlessly about this if he was here, each shooter was no more than $3 each, but you had a knack for doing the “right thing,” or else you feared karma would get you in the long run. 

Upon reaching the end of your shift, you stopped back at the employee locker room to safely store your tips in your purse. The day had been hot, but it was cooling down now that night was approaching. 

Ultimately, you opt to throw on a sweatshirt, one that Jeonghan had purchased when you two had toured your university, which was the same one that he’d worn so many times that it’s the most comfortable piece of clothing you own. One that he couldn’t deny you of when you begged to keep it, secretly thinking that you looked cute in it even though you were practically swimming in the fabric. Disgusted that he’d even thought that, he dismissed you quickly and said you could keep it. 

The sun was setting minute by minute, meaning that Jeonghan’s shift would be finishing very soon, and you packed away the remainder of your items in your employee locker, double-checking that your skirt still had the tiny plastic alcohol bottles hidden away. 

After confirming you had said shots, you headed out to hole 12 with a spring in your step. It was a meeting spot you and Jeonghan had found your summer after freshman year of high school. There was a hill behind a bunch of trees that overlooked the valley where the main portion of the country club was located. No one was allowed on the course during after-hours, but this spot was so dark and secluded that you two hadn’t been caught yet. It was also the prime viewing spot for the club’s fireworks show, and it was your little secret. 

You were first to make it to the spot, plopping down on the hill and huffing in relief. Your legs ached a little from standing all day. The grass beneath you was dewy from the cool nighttime air, the humid heat from the day settling on the greenery, and it was almost enough to make you feel itchy. However, you don’t mind it, not when you have the fireworks show to look forward to. You would never mind the damp grass, especially not when you had a favorite summer tradition to share with your favorite person, your best friend. 

Jeonghan’s shift ended a bit later than yours, but he didn’t arrive at the spot much later than you. He meant to grab a bag of popcorn or something, but he didn’t want to leave you hanging for too long. 

Jeonghan tried to sneak up on you, but you’re too smart, too knowing of his antics. So when you turn around knowingly, with two opened Whiskey shooters in hand, he chuckles almost maniacally at your annoyed expression that doesn’t fully translate into your impish eyes. You two were one and the same. 

“What are you waiting for, Hannie? These shots aren’t getting any colder. Not when they’ve been in my skirt for the past hour.”

“Eugh, now you’re the one oversharing,” Jeonghan groans in disapproval, sitting down next to you on the grass, and gratefully accepting the shot regardless of your TMI comment. Your knees knock each other as you turn to face him, but a friendly touch isn’t foreign to either of you. “You’re the gross one, Y/N.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you giggle, holding the shot out in front of him and teasingly shaking the plastic bottle. You sing song, “The night’s not getting any younger either.”  

Nodding in acknowledgment, Jeonghan smirks and shares a few words, “Cheers to our last summer before we’re miserable college students. Cheers to fewer hours spent in the heat at this country club. Cheers to our everlasting friendship.” 

With his final words, you’re both knocking back your shots, groaning in unison as the spicy drink burns and settles in your stomach, instantly warming your body at the sensation. Your face scrunches up at the taste and Jeonghan can’t help but laugh uncontrollably.

“Stop it,” you whine, your voice a bit hoarse from the alcohol but smiling nonetheless. “You aren’t any better than me. Anyways, that's enough for me tonight.”

“True,” Jeonghan contemplates, but he’s quick to poke you. “But I didn’t struggle as bad as you did.” 

“Touché,” you hum, nudging Jeonghan’s shoulder excitedly as a warning firework darts into the sky, indicating the show will be beginning shortly. “It’s starting!” 

“Alright, alright,” Jeonghan is groaning at your bony elbow yet again digging into him, but he’s delighted by your excitement regardless, shoving you back as you begin to readjust for the show. “Calm down, it’s nothing crazy.” 

“No, Jeonghan,” you grin, turning your head to fully make eye contact with his wide eyes, joy flickering in your own as you peer at your best friend. “It’s nothing crazy, but it’s absolutely so special because once again we get to enjoy it here together.” 

Your emphasis on the word together almost makes him shiver, a foreign feeling rushing through him as you continue to gaze at him with those wild eyes of yours, gulping as he hesitantly nods, even though he wholeheartedly agrees it is special, but he’s not exactly sure why. “Very true,” and as if on cue, the fireworks show begins, relief flooding through him as you redirect your gaze and squeal in excitement. 

Jeonghan doesn’t understand why, but his heart pounds in his chest throughout the entire show. He thinks maybe it’s the alcohol (you and he rarely have dared to sneak alcohol before), maybe it’s the overstimulation of the fireworks, maybe it’s the thrill of knowing the golf course guards could spot you any year and escort you away, or maybe it’s the way your knee keeps brushing his thigh reminding him of just how close you two are. How much you are together here alone, just like every other summer. 

It’s a feeling he decides to ignore for the rest of the fireworks, letting himself lay back on the damp grass with you and listening as you enthusiastically point out your favorite fireworks, bickering with you when he thinks a different type of firework is prettier. 

It’s a feeling he continues to ignore as the finale comes and goes, chest fluttering at the way your eyes sparkle with golden reflections of the fireworks in the sky, and once again quickly redirecting his gaze to anything but you. 

It’s a feeling he tries his damnedest to ignore as you both continue to lay in the grass post-fireworks. Neither one of you making the first move to go home. Maybe you thought this would be the final moment of normalcy between you and Jeonghan before starting university, knowing that all friendships are bound to change with such a new chapter. Maybe he thought he’d figure out whatever it was he was feeling if he just stayed here with you a moment longer. 

It’s a feeling he struggles to ignore as you both fall into deep conversation. The one shot of alcohol makes you both loose-lipped as you reminisce on embarrassing high school stories. Reminiscing on your shitty boyfriend who broke up with you before the summer. Reminiscing on your years of friendship. 

It’s a feeling he no longer can ignore when you roll over, lips pouting and eyes teary as you start to feel emotional about your recent breakup. Something in him feels like it shatters when you ask, “Have you ever been in love before, Hannie?” 

[meldarkthrop]

Francesca and Michael from the Bridgerton series remind me of Elucien at some points.

Michael is an ex rake; a charming, sarcastic and handsome man, who is the spare, not the heir. Lucien coded.

Francesca is the sixth sibling, quiet, elegant and beautiful; often ignored or overlooked by her family, but she possesses a dry sort of humour. Elain coded.

Obviously, there are differences in the story, but here are some moments from When he was wicked by Julia Quinn that are not just giving Elucien vibes, but fit Elain and Lucien individually as well:

• "In every life there is a turning point. A moment so tremendous, so sharp and clear that one feels as if one’s been hit in the chest, all the breath knocked out, and one knows, absolutely knows without the merest hint of a shadow of a doubt that one’s life will never be the same.

For Michael Stirling, that moment came the first time he laid eyes on Francesca Bridgerton."

So very 'Lucien meeting Elain's gaze for the first time' coded.

—

I can imagine Lucien telling this to Elain

• “I can’t bear this halfway existence,” he said, his voice so low she wasn’t certain she’d heard correctly.

—

Francesca talking about her family overlooking her. Also the banter here could fit Elucien. Lucien teasing her and Elain glaring at him.

• “It’s as if I don’t exist,” she said, irritated enough to shoot him her most ferocious glare.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say—”

“Oh, yes,” she said with great flair, “Francesca.”

“Frannie…” He sounded quite amused now.

“Has someone told Francesca?” she said, doing a rather fine group impression of her family. “Remember her? Sixth of eight? The one with the blue eyes?”

“Frannie, don’t be daft.”

“I’m not daft, I’m just ignored.”

“I rather thought you liked being a bit removed from your family.”

“Well, yes,” she grumbled, “but that’s beside the fact.”

“Of course,” he murmured.

She glared at him for his sarcasm.

—

This screams Lucien Vanserra

• She didn’t have to love him. But she did have to feel free. Free to be happy.

Because if she wasn’t happy…

Well, that would kill him. He could live without her love, but not without her happiness.

—

Francesca's confession to Michael. Now tell me this isn't Elain confessing to Lucien—

• She looked up at him, her eyes bright. “I love you.”

Michael touched her cheek. “I have no idea what I did to deserve you,” he said.

“You didn’t have to do anything,” she whispered. “You just had to be.” She reached up and touched his cheek, the gesture a perfect mirror of his own. “It just took me a while to realize it, that’s all.”

—

This quote from Michael = Lucien gets emotional over finally having a happy ending with his mate.

• “For the rest of my life,” he vowed, “I will love you. For the rest of my life. I promise you. I will lay down my life for you. I will honor and cherish you. I will—” He was choking on the words, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to tell her. He just wanted her to know.

“Let’s go home,” she said softly.

—

And a letter in the epilogue where Francesca's previous mother-in-law talks about them:

"I do not profess to understand metaphysics, and in truth, I rarely have patience for those who claim that they do, but there is an understanding between the two of you, a meeting of the minds and souls that exists on a higher plane.

You were, it is clear, born for each other."

/end quotes

I just—

[bearwriting]

Topstitch

Start Here Previous Chapter

Summary: Bruised and bloodied, you end up with the last person you thought you'd turn to, and now you're on the road with him.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Cursing

Next Chapter

You opened your mouth to protest, but he had already hauled your duffel over his shoulder and was halfway out the door. When he realized you weren’t behind him, he turned back to face you.

“Well? I don’t have all day,” he drawled.

You gave him the dirtiest look you could manage, but he hadn’t left you much choice.

Making your way into the parking lot, you and Sweeney fell into the familiar rhythm of sniffing out cars that would be easy to steal and hopefully wouldn’t be missed. Your hand instinctively went to the pocket of the hoodie Sweeney had given you and you sighed when the familiar weight of your keys wasn’t there. Your car was missing in action after the Jötnar had done gods knew what to get rid of it. Fortunately, you had been smart enough to take it to Circe when you’d gotten it to have her help you ward it. She had cast the proper protection spells but had also shown you a nifty little locator spell that you could use if it was ever separated from you. If the car was somewhere it could be found, the locator spell would point you in the right direction. If the car was at the bottom of a lake or stripped for parts, the spell would simply wink out.

Gods, you hoped they’d only sold it. The idea of your beloved car sitting at the bottom of a lake or being completely taken apart made you nauseous.

Sweeney waved you over to a particularly shitty old Toyota Corolla that he had popped open. He slung your duffel into the trunk and folded himself into the driver’s seat.

“So where’d you stash the old man’s trinket?” He asked when you had settled into the passenger seat beside him.

You shook your head. “Before we do that, we need to find my car.”

Sweeney stared at you. “And how d’you plan to do that? Do you have any idea where it is?”

You gave him a look. “Do you seriously think I’d get a car like that and not have a locator spell on it?”

He huffed. “Well, excuse the shit outta me, I didn’t realize you were a witch now.”

You swallowed the urge to clock him, forcing yourself to remember that he was the reason you were alive right now and not dead in a ditch on a backroad.

“I was not the one that put the spells and wards on it, dickhead. I took it to Circe.”

“Oh.”

“She just taught me the locator spell and how to maintain the wards. Bet you feel like a dick now, huh.”

His mouth pressed into a thin line and he stayed silent.

“I can do the spell now before we hit the road, just give me like fifteen minutes.”

He grunted and pulled out a cigarette, stepping out and leaning against the car to smoke while you worked and the scent of cloves filled your nostrils.

Asshole, you thought. Yet, despite your annoyance, you found yourself replaying the feeling of his warm hands carefully caressing your face as he dressed your wounds. Replaying the fuzzy memory of his bright green eyes filled with worry and anger on your behalf and the way all pretense of not being able to stand each other fell away as he tried to keep you alive. Your cheeks grew warm at the memory and you snuck a glance at him as he leaned against the car, puffing lazily at his cigarette.

“Goddammit,” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head to clear your thoughts.

Pushing all thoughts of Mad Sweeney aside, you turned your focus to the task at hand. You weren’t sure entirely how the spell worked. Other locator spells you had seen used burned away a map until the only thing that was left was the place they were looking for or had used a pendulum to indicate the whereabouts of what was being looked for. The spell that Circe had used didn’t involve a map at all. She had explained to you that your end of the spell would connect with the magic in the car and would just sort of…deposit a vision of the vehicle into your head. You’d never tried it before and you were nervous that it wouldn’t work. There was warding magic on that car that even the old man couldn’t wrap his head around and it kept you protected from all sorts of nasty things. You didn’t know what you would do if you couldn’t get it back.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, letting yourself begin to drift into the space between sleep and wakefulness.

You had almost settled completely into your meditative state when Sweeney knocked on the window, jerking you out of your reverie.

“What’s takin’ you so long?” He asked. “We got places to go.”

You ground your teeth and stuck your head out the window. “If you would just shut up, I’ll be able to do this faster.”

He held his hands up and returned to brooding over his cigarette. You leaned back into the seat, once again letting your mind settle in the in-between space. You held an image of your car in your mind, focusing on the tiny details and the things that made it yours, like the protection sigils hanging from the rearview mirror or the small hole on the passenger seat that had been burned into the upholstery the first and only time Sweeney had broken your “no cigs in the car” rule. In his defense, you had slapped a lit cigarette out of his hand when you realized what he was doing, but if he hadn’t lit it in the first place, you wouldn’t have had to smack him.

With the image and the details in your mind, you began to repeat the make and model of the car, along with the name you had given it, and projected your intention to find it as much as you could, as per Circe’s instructions.

An image of your car flashed through your mind, beautiful and shining, with the skeeziest-looking dude you had ever seen sitting in the driver’s seat.

Thirty miles east in the parking lot of a Circle K, came a voice at the back of your mind.

Blinking out of your trance, you stuck your head out the window again. “Strange things afoot at the Circle K,” you said to him.

He stared at you blankly.

“Really?” You asked. “Bill and Ted? Most excellent?”

He shook his head and you sighed in exasperation. “Okay, there’s a movie night in our future.”

He looked at you in surprise. You were surprised at yourself, but you pressed on, ignoring the subtle shift in the energy between the two of you. “Car’s thirty miles east at a Circle K. The Jötnar sold her to the slimiest motherfucker I’ve seen in a while and I just know that asshole is stinking up my upholstery with cigarettes.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Thirty miles seems awfully close.”

You shrugged. “I dunno, but can we get a move on? He’s as like as any to be gone by the time we get there.”

Sweeney opened the door and folded his lanky form into the driver’s seat. “Do ye have any idea how many Circle Ks are along the next thirty miles? How will we know which one is the right one?”

You shrugged. “Go thirty miles and find a Circle K that’s got a gorgeous car and a scumbag in her driver’s seat. ”

He grunted and started the car, peeling out of the lot. “Dunno why I thought you’d have an actual plan.”

You glared at him. “I gave you our next steps, seems like a plan to me.”

“What if he’s gone? What if it’s the wrong Circle K?” He demanded.

“Then I do the fucking spell again,” you snapped.

“How much time are we going to waste looking for your damn car?”

You took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose as you squeezed your eyes shut. “However long we need,” you said, your voice tight with annoyance. “The old man’s been alive for millennia, waiting on us for a little ain’t gonna kill him.”

“No, but it might kill us,” Sweeney grumbled.

You smiled smugly. “You, maybe. The old man loves me, as far as he’s concerned I can do no wrong.”

“Must be nice,” he said bitterly.

“It is.”

His lip curled in a sneer.

“Look,” you said, “I’m not doing anything until I find my fucking car. If you need to go to Eagle Point, no one is stopping you. I didn’t ask you to come with me, you did this to yourself. If you want to go, by all fucking means.” You refused to acknowledge the twinge in your chest at the idea of him leaving you.

He didn’t say anything, but pressed his foot to the gas a little harder. “I’m not leaving you by yourself,” he said quietly. “But if Grim—“

“Don’t say his fucking name,” you barked. “I don’t care if it’s not his true name or what the fuck ever. Names have power. You’re one of the Fair Folk, aren’t you? Why do I have to explain this to you?”

“Be serious. Are you really going to refer to him only as—“

“As the old man? Yeah. Names have power and he certainly does not need any more.”

“Fine. If the old man tries to string me up for it, I’m throwing you under the bus,” he said.

You cocked your head to the side and looked at him for a moment. He wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were on the road, but the tips of his ears had the barest hint of a blush.

“No, you’re not,” you said finally. “You won’t do that.”

His eyes stayed on the road. “Are you so sure of that?”

You turned your gaze to the road in front of you. “Your ears go pink when you lie.”

tagged: @@imaginethatneathuhpartdos @kind-wolf

[shoechoe]

oh yeah, i'll give my personal ranking of Bojack seasons from worst to best

Season 1 - This season is the weakest for all the reasons people say it is. The first few episodes are very "adult cartoon"-y with most of the important stuff just being establishing future episodes. I give the first half of this season some grace because it seems like they weren't really sure if the series was going to go on as long as it did so they were just doing goofy stuff until they could head in with the nukes. The emotional peaks are still extremely strong and I'm honestly quite fond of the payoff of sitting through the season until episode 8 hits and you realize it's turning into something a lot more than what you came in expecting.

Season 6 - Sort of mixed feelings on this one because while it has some of the most impactful things in the entire series and the finale is probably my favorite episode in the whole show, you can really feel some of the unfinished plot points and rushed character arcs in ways you don't feel for the rest of the show. I did not care about the detective characters at all lol.

I do have a specific criticism in that I feel like a lot of the final relationships weren't as developed as they could've been and once a character landed on their "endgame" relationship the show didn't really Show them together much. I felt disappointed that Judah's character kinda ended right when he confessed to Princess Carolyn. That being said Bojack's entire arc goes incredibly crazy hard

Season 5 - The main thing I really didn't care for was that I did not like how Flip's behavior was basically uncommented on despite him being both an abuser and kind of an enabler for Bojack (the "turn the camera back on" moment...) other than that it's a really good season and the experimental plots are very good

Season 4 - This season was basically a bit of a breather for "Bojack traumatizing people" while pretty much everyone else in the main cast gets wrecked. Time's Arrow is in the top 3 for best episodes in the series for me (alongside The View From Halfway Down and Escape From L.A.). Some of the side plots were a little weak considering the governor thing just fizzles out from my memory but still a really really strong season as a whole (obviously since it's Bojack)

Season 2 - Not much unique to say here. Very strong and tastefully-handled depiction of grooming, especially since it was the main character doing it. Does a lot of stuff masterfully that I feel like most television shows just can't. I will never forget the absolute dread Escape from LA made me feel

Season 3 - Again not much unique to say. Excellent episode after excellent episode and the final two episodes are both devastating and fantastic. Also I want to stop writing now because my hands are freezing it is cold as shit in here

[hinamie]

oh my god ok so i know im late I didn't talk about it because it happened during one of my Offline Eras but . but listen ok lisn the new former vandal album sent me THROUgh the FUCKINNG ROOF to be fair i knew it would like i joked about going upstairs to listen to it and cry when it dropped but i didn't think that every fucking song would hit me so hard in the kokoro it made me wail because I too have immense religious guilt ANYWAY im gonna rant incoherently and at length now hope u all missed me

ok first of all gotta shout out the fuckin album title i knew it was gonna be devastating when I saw it . fuckin. divine interference????? music for god's playthings indeed i eat that shit up i was like yoooooo hes also got a bone to pick with jesus go off bestie <333

so former vandal are artists visionaries kings so ofc tracklist is all mythology n religion-inspired (lazarus/goliath/ouroboros etc) and i think its so cool that theyre all in caps until u get to the end and the final song is denial and it's in lowercase and maybe its simple but i was like ART. ARTTTTTT. and it made me go back and look at the tracklist of their previous album and I realized that the whole thing was about vices and unhealthy coping with an overwhelming and forsaken existence but then the final song was Get Right (still my go-to comfort song to this day tbh tbh tbh) and it's like an acknowledgement that ok maybe none of this is the answer and something has to change anyway wrong album oops back 2 divine interference

i made a point of listening to the songs that hadnt been released as singles first so the first song i listened to was Lazarus and tbh probably my fav song on the album maybe tied with parables and maaaaybe even icarian. BUT LAZARUS SLAPS SOS SOSOOSO HARD god the theme of not knowing how to leave something behind even when it's bad for you,,, both criticizing but also mirroring the actual story of lazarus in the lyrics being like "wow kinda fucked up of god for resurrecting u without ur consent" but also acknowledging that he himself is guilty of holding onto the things that kill him.,,, GOD ITS SO FUCKING G GOOD I FDFGSADFGDG

salt also !!! BANGER not quite up there with the likes of lazarus but it gets bonus points because a. i lov the idea of starting to recognize that you're coming into yourself n an identity apart from your vices n traumas and b. for having two of the most RAW lines in the entire album imo which is reaaallly saying something: "now that everything's bright I guess I'm fine/but there's an art in the dark that took years to refine" and "the spark of divine intervention/that I'm still terrified I've left behind" (ALBUM TITLE DROP ALBUM TITLE DROP) god these two just dont miss and i love it but i am far too neurodivergent to contain myself they need to give me a break pls i am v i b r a t i n g

ok gonna move into the Chill(tm) tracks I think with goliath as well as shame/rotten I vibe more with the lyrics than the actual songs because i prefer my angsty alt pop to be Upbeat thank u very much but can i just say. the lyrics of these two songs ESPECIALLY SHAME/ROTTEN LIKE ok first of all i love the tonal shift halfway through that manages not to make them feel like completely different songs it's just jarring enough like there's been an acceptance of sorts,, like omg same i too am like 'god i feel like the scum of the earth might as well own it a bit',, "the fear of god/the need for blame" fuckin bullseye ow,, "I starve to feed the parts of me/far from who i oughta be/tell me are you proud of me yet?" FUCKIN BULLSEYE OWW

I know i just said i prefer my angst upbeat but crocodile tears (very upbeat very rock wuaw) is probably my least favourite track if i had to pick but it does have a lyrical BANGER of an opening verse ("holding the hand that's holding me under" g o d) i think i just don't dig the overall melody too much and find the ending a bit repetitive fr my tastes,, who knows though it took a while and many re-listens for ouroboros to grow on me maybe this'll b a similar story ,, but then again ouroboros had the advantage of echoing mine own mental health and self-destructive behaviours shdgj

ok so i was crying from the beginning right but the songs that made me ugly bawl were growing pains (very similar vibes to get right but in a "i know that i'm healing" way rather than a "i need to heal" way) and denial,, but starting w growing pains,, my god idk What they did with the mic/vocals after the bridge but it felt like the music was being injected directly into my ears secret direct path 2 my bloodstream god I hadnt felt chills like that in such a long time and idk just the whole Mood of the song having been hurting for so long and only now starting to recognize the damage you've done but also appreciate the progress youv made,,, i have so so many emotions but DENIAL (its funny saying it in caps bc its the only track in lowercase getit getit) oh my god ths going straight on the list of Songs That Make Me Think About My Relationship With My Dad but also Songs That Make Me Emo About All The People I've Grown Apart From and i think its so powerful to frame a personal transition away from faith as growing apart from an old friend and missing them despite any hard feelings holy shit though holy shit . the first listen by this point i had already been emotionally devastated by the Whole Album so i was like ok surely ill get a break by the last song lol nope sorry i ended up crying so hard i think i gave myself a headache

I think I must have yelled about the songs that they released as singles when they dropped individually but it's been so long that i forget what i said but honestly parables and icarian are still just as good as when i heard them for the first time (when parables dropped i spilled my tea on my fucking notes bc i was vibing too hard),, I love parables' msg of accepting the lessons ur (traumatic) past taught u and how it shaped u as a person even if u recognize that that person is someone hurt and in need of healing and maybe that has to happen alone! and i know for a fact i've gushed about icarian (still one of the most gojocore songs Ever imho dont fight me on this) but now looking at it in the context of the rest of the album i love that it's first cause it really frames the whole icarus thing of having flown too close to the sun or to god and getting burned and that pain essentially being the catalyst for the entire Journey tht the rest of the album outlines (obsessed w the fact that the next song is jaded like fr having these two songs one after the other is literally "fucked around/found out" gsfhjsh)

but all that being said not to b dramatic but this album destroyed me it rearranged something deep in my soul and i don't know who i was before it but i probably wont ever be the same :) i literally love these two so much im so appreciative of them its so rare to feel so Seen by a piece of media so to have an entire album hit so incredibly close to home for me and slap while doing so????? i feel so lucky . this entire album feels like taking the first step to address years of hurt and self destruction it feels like losing a friend it feels like finding yourself and i just . i love it so much

[robertdowneyhiddlesbatch]

Change of perspective {1/2}

Triggers: implied baby loss

Summary: Stephen's girlfriend takes a pregnancy test and reminisces how they got together.

The stick with the two lines on it was maybe the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Eliza was a realtor, so that was saying a lot. She loved, and got paid for, finding hidden jewels. That's how she had found Stephen in the first place. 

Eliza Gonzales was a top tier realtor, and true to her career, a pompous ass. Half the cast of Selling Sunset were her best friends. So when she set her sights on Greenwich Village, she wanted it. 

“Hello,” the familiar looking man answered before she even knocked on the door.

Eliza quickly tried to recall who he was. “You're… famous, aren't you?” She pointed an inquisitive finger at him. 

The man smirked. “You new to Greenwich?” his smirk told her he was intentionally being smug, and it irked her. 

Eliza chuckled to cover the scowl growing on her face. “Sort of. You haven't always lived here, have you?” For some reason, he didn't look like he belonged in an old money neighborhood. He looked like he would appreciate a penthouse better. 

“I haven't personally, no,” the man humored her and took a look back inside the house. “But it's been in the business for, well, forever.” 

Damn. “I see. Well, I was just walking by in the neighborhood and I am absolutely in awe of this beautiful brick stone. I'm sure it's equally gorgeous inside. Mind if I can get a little peak?”

“It's not for sale,” the man held the door and pulled it behind his shoulder. 

Eliza’s jaw dropped. “But I didn't…”

“I'm quite familiar with your type…”

“Well that's rude,” she didn't even try to hide her grimace as she folded her arms. 

“Says miss intrusive. Buh bye now,” he closed the door and she found herself in front of her car. What the?

Oh, did she hate this man! And she would never let him live it down. She was groveling about it for days, so her friend insisted on taking her out on a double date. Eliza dressed up to humor her friend and went, only to be blindsided when her friend's date was the man from Greenwich.

“Stephen, this is Eliza, my best friend. Izzy, this is Stephen Strange, and this is Matthew Perrywood. They're both doctors!” Janice introduced the two men. 

Eliza ignored Greenwich, who was clearly her friend's date, and smiled as she introduced herself to the one she was set up with. The plan was to not even acknowledge him, but halfway through the night, they could only acknowledge each other. Not positively, of course, as every topic of conversation was an opportunity for passionate argument for both of them. Janice tried to intervene at some point, but gave up and redirected her attention to Matthew. At some point, Janice and Matthew hit it off and left, leaving Eliza and Stephen with the bill.

After realizing they were ditched, Stephen and Eliza finally settled into silence. Stephen asked for the check and Eliza took out her wallet to split her meal, but the former doctor waved her aside and paid off the entire meal. Eliza blushed and reached out for her wallet, blindly putting her card back in before tucking her wallet back in her purse. 

“Thanks for footing the bill,” she told him as they were walking out. 

“The least I could do after ruining your date,” Stephen said, acknowledging the events of the night. 

“Well, clearly they didn't mind,” Eliza chuckled. 

“At least someone had got something out of it. I'm not really one for blind dates.”

Eliza gasped. “You didn't know her?” 

“Not before tonight. Matt dragged me out.”

“Oh. I see what happened. You were something once, weren't you?”

“Once,” she noticed he put his hands in his pockets.

“I…it's getting late. I should let you go. It's a drive back to Greenwich from here.”

“I'll catch a cab. How about you?”

“OH, I drove us here. I'll be fine. Have a good night, Dr. Strange,” she bid, heading toward her car.

“Good night,” he replied. 

She was keying into her car, parked in the lot beside the restaurant, and she saw him still standing there. He whistled, and a cab obediently pulled up, as if it was waiting for him. Eliza shrugged as she got into her own car. A cab in the first call, in New York city, was almost magic. 

The next morning was a Saturday, and she had planned to get up late, if the doorbell would let her. She groaned when the knocks started and threw off the blanket.

“I'm coming! I'm coming,” she shouted as she went down the stairs to get the door.

“Yes?” She asked sternly as she opened the door, not caring for whoever it was.

It was Stephen. 

“W-what are you doing here?” She asked, rubbing her eyes to clear up and make sure she was seeing right.

“I'm here for my wallet,” Stephen replied.

“Excuse me?” Eliza retorted.

“You took my wallet last night,” he explained.

Eliza scoffed. “Oh, you are so not accusing me of stealing!” She exclaimed and stormed into her kitchen to get her purse.

“W-well, you see how I got here…” he didn't get the chance to show her wallet in his hand. 

“Now look here, mister!” Eliza shouted as she was back with her purse.

“Doctor,” Stephen corrected her. 

“Whatever! This is clearly not,” she whipped out a wallet and thrust it in his face, but was able to clearly see it herself, “my wallet.”

Stephen smiled as she turned bright red in embarrassment of being caught in the wrong. 

“I… I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to take yours. I thought I had grabbed mine!” 

“Oh, I wouldn't usually mind. It's just this one, it's an heirloom,” he pointed at the red and black checkered wallet she had again put back in her purse. 

“Ah, sorry. I'm still sleepy. Here's your wallet back,” Eliza finally handed him his item.

“Thank you. Here's yours,” he returned the favor. 

“It's still early. Wanna come in for breakfast?” She stepped aside to invite him in. 

“I won't say no,” Stephen smiled and helped himself inside. 

“Kitchen's down to the left. I'm just gonna go change real quick.”

Eliza ran upstairs to freshen up and put on some real clothes, and came downstairs to breakfast. He always made breakfast for them now, and had pared down her pompous realtor personality and made her smell some roses. Not that they didn't still quarrel. She actually loved the snide quips they shared. 

And she absolutely fell in love with the main staircase when he finally invited her in. 

But then she fell down it. And she hated it. Because it had taken away the two lines. The worst part of it all was that she was home alone.

Stephen had gone on another mission saving the world, and here she was losing hers. She had no idea how she would tell him. And if she would tell him. Normally, she didn't make an issue of him being gone most of the time. She figured that since she was busy with work too, it didn't matter much. They had made it work. 

But now her perspective had changed. Being physically alone, and then also emotionally all by herself, had her reevaluating their arrangement. Maybe he should've been home more. Maybe he should've given her more time. More attention. Maybe she wouldn't be going through this alone. Or maybe, he would have caught her when she tripped. 

But he wasn't there.  

Stephen was never there. And now it was a problem.

[zezacle]

I just had a weird dream and I'm gonna try to recall it for you:

High-school gymnasium. Playing baseball and being way too serious about it. Especially since the bases are random objects and the ball is a little plastic football. Its our coach as our manager and another coach as other manager. For some reason the coaches step out halfway through the game and leave us to play.

We're sitting down on the sidelines (dugout) waiting for our turn to bat when I realize I am getting skipped. My (mostly girls) team is just skipping me because they know that I'm terrible. (I haven't had batting practice since my Tee Ball years after all) Next inning, I take up mantle as player-manager since Coach is gone. No one argues me. I put someone out and say I'm on deck.

She hits a triple and I walk up to the plate and pick up the red plastic wiffleball bat that is basically weightless. I focus in. I can't be shown up in this sport I claim to love. I gotta produce. Drive in this run... or at least not strike out. I stare down this massive senior girl pitcher who is intimidating as hell, take my stance...

Hit-by-pitch in the leg. (Doesn't hurt because again its a tiny plastic football) Oh thank fuck. I take my base. On first, I start to zone out and don't notice the grounder to pitcher who then walks to the baseline to get the tag out on me. She's standing there, menacingly, tossing the ball up and down to catch it, just waiting for me. I start walking, accepting my fate when I turn my head and see our runner score. She turns to look and remembers "oh shit there was someone on third" which makes her drop the ball. The football. The weird, egg-shaped ball that is known to bounce unpredictably.

I immediately sprint past her as she's chasing it and make it safe to second base. Second base is a plushie, so it slides around the gym floor as I step on it. My brain skips the next play (again dreamscape) so now I'm on third, bases loaded, 1 run scored, 0 outs. This giantess pitcher is mad, and most if it is directed at me, the worst player, who she HBP, then errored on, and now is about to score.

Suddenly she charges the plate and tags it (there isn't a catcher, its gymnasium dream baseball), she points to me and yells "You're out! Force out!" Everyone is a bit confused, including me. I'm like uh, no? That's not how it works? I'm safe on third (which is the end of a pool noodle btw) and the batter isn't on the basepath yet, so he can't force the runners to advance. An argument ensues. I call time and say I'm gonna get Coach to sort this out.

I walk over to the adjoining gymnasium (my HS had two gyms) to find the other gym class sitting on the floor while our Coaches (managers) are in a screaming match with each other about something. Not wanting to interrupt, I notice two adults spectating the argument, a female black teacher and the School Officer (who in the dream wasn't the white dude we had at our school, but instead an older white woman). I approach them, "Hey, either of you know baseball?" Black teacher says yes.

I explain the conflict that's happening in the other gym and ask who's in the right. She shakes her head at the situation and pulls out a massive pad of paper (the kind teachers use to draw venn diagrams and shit) and a sharpie, presumably to illustrate whatever she was about to say. This black woman then says: "That's what Joe Biden'll do to ya." And begins drawing her diagram.

"What?" I respond, incredulously. "The fuck does that have to do with anything? I'm asking about baseball, not politics."

She gives me a dumbfounded look like they are clearly one in the same.

"I don't give a fuck about Joe Biden! I justed wanted to know what the rule is when a pitcher steps off the mound and- wait a minute. That's a balk. Batter goes to first. On loaded bases. I score a run. Nevermind."

And that's when instead of turning around and returning to the other gym, I must've been raptured from the perspective of these dream people because I woke up after that realization.

[orangemoonxworks]

LIFTED EPISODE 001: NOTEBOOK NOSTALGIA — 3 WRITTEN BY: K. Reynolds --------------------

Christine woke to the doorbell ringing and reluctantly dragged herself out of bed to answer it only to be greeted by Lox whose high presence cast a shadow over her. And then, there was the mortifying realization that she wasn’t in a “presentable” state. Her hair was frizzy, there were bags under her eyes, there was a long-dried saliva trail from the side of her mouth to her chin, the strap of her tank top hung off her shoulder, and she was still in her pajamas. She didn’t need to see herself in a mirror to know she looked terrible, and that reality made her heart sink.

(Why!? Why the heck are you here?!)

Lox, who was dressed as if he’d already been out for a while, asked “Are you just gettin’ up? It’s like one in the afternoon.”

Her voice shook as she spoke, surprised by his sudden appearance before her. “W-Wha…what are you…doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

“You came to…” she immediately turned away then put her hands on her cheek to hide her blushing.

(To see me?! What in the…?! Why?!)

“Yeah, I came to scoop you today. I know you not doin’ shit plus it’s the weekend. So, it’s just gonna be me and you.” he explained then, seeing the confusion on her face, asked “You got a problem with that, or?”

“It’s just…um, w-whatever was it that prompted this act of k-k-kindness?”

Lox’s right brow raised. “What? I just told you.”

Only a few days had gone by, and I was starting to settle into my new life. Well, sort of. I didn’t anticipate that the boy who I’d embarrassed myself in front of, then proceeded to unload my sad story onto the next day, would be a recurring character.

This was all too sudden to be a kind gesture to her, and after years of being fooled by such gestures made her wary/ “Did my mom put you up to this? If so, then don’t bother. I-I’m fine, really.”

“Ya moms got nothin’ to do with why I’m here. So, I don’t know why you bringin’ her up.”

“But, then why?” She grew even more confused. “I don’t…I don’t get it. You have friends to hang out with, and a girlfriend too, right?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Then why would you waste your day with someone like me? I’m pretty sure your friends are way better and fun to be around. You already know what I’m like, so –”

“You got cheese doodle crumbs in your hair.” he interrupted, pointing at the orange specks stuck in the strands of hair on her left side.

She quickly dug them out, stroking her hair with her fingers. Seeing rainfall of crumbs fall hit the floor made her face go pale. She raised her head like a zombie with an undead look on her face.

(Oh universe, why must you torture me?)

He smirked and chuckled. “Anyway, get dressed. I’mma be back in like 20 minutes.”

And with that said he walked off. She grabbed the corner of the doorway and leaned halfway out. “Wait! But I never said I –”

Lox ignored her and haphazardly waved as he went up the stairwell. She sighed then hopelessly whimpered “Augh, never mind.”

+

After Christine reluctantly got dressed and left with Lox, she aimlessly followed behind him with no idea where he was taking her or what they were going to do for the day. It wasn’t long before they stopped to rest at the base of the statue at Lafayette Square – a triangular traffic island next to Morningside Park. She sat down, slightly hunched over, resting her elbows against her thighs, then twiddled her thumbs while Lox downed drank the bottled water he bought earlier.

She still couldn’t fathom why he dragged her along with him, nor why she chose to tag along. Thinking back on the past few days, she thought it was strange that he’d want to hang out all of sudden considering how their last conversation went. They briefly spoke to each other in passing a few times since, but that was about it.

Christine finally decided to speak. “So, tell me the truth – you feel sorry for me, don’t you? You know, after what I told you.”

He finished drinking then sat the bottle side him. “If that’s what you wanna believe. I said point blank I got no sympathy for people who cry about shit but won’t do nothin’ about it. And you made it clear the other day you’re that type of person. So, what I gotta feel sorry about?”

“Wow, harsh.”

“It is what it is.”

“Then, why? Why do you want me to hang out with you if I’m such a disappointment to you?”

“Because I don’t give a fuck.”

She stared at him, confused by his answer.

(What does that even mean??)

“I told you I got a homeboy just like you, right? Even though he gets on my nerves with the woe-is-me shit and be acting like a punk sometimes, we still cool at the end of the day. I don’t gotta like it but that’s where he at right now.” he explained.

Christine smiled. “Aw, that’s oddly sweet.”

“You not any better than him.”

“Hey!” she crossed her arms, glaring and pouting.

“I’m just telling it like it is. So, what’s good with you?” he shifted his body toward her. “I ain’t get to talk to you like I wanted to the other day. Since we got the time, and now we can chill or whatever, I can get to know you for real.”

Her eye grew wide.

(Wait, what? He wants to get to know me?? ME??? But why???)

She hunched her shoulders as if she were retreating into a shell, clasping her hands together, wiggling her fingers. “Uh, well, there’s not much to know. I basically told you my life story already.”

He sucked his teeth. “Bruh, all I know about you is that you a loner. That don’t count as your life story or whatever you talkin’ about.”

“You’re just a jerk at heart, aren’t you?” she said, side-eyeing him, then groaned. “Up until last week I lived with my grandparents in East New York which isn’t the best place. But I’m sure you know that already. I always hated it there because it was dirty, loud, stinky, and filled with crazy people. There’s always something going on there, and trust me, none of its ever good”

“Most of the time I’d stay inside because it was so wild. Plus, I got bullied every day so that certainly didn’t help. And to make matters worse, my older sister a.k.a. the devil’s spawn, tortured me at home.”

She grabbed her arms, tightening her grip, and shuttering. “Gosh, she was so cruel. She locked me in the closet for four hours one time, and then tried to force me to eat rat poison another time.”

“Damn, that’s crazy” Lox replied.

She continued, “Thankfully, she went to live with our dad after a while. And then it was just me and my grandparents. My mom left to live with one of her friends while she went to college. It sucked not having her around, but I understood why she was doing that. I mean, look at where we are. This is a dream come true.”

“What? To live out here?” he asked, curious.

“Yeah. There was this tall building nearby and, on the holidays, and we’d go up there and watch the fireworks and the stars. You could see the Twin Towers from there.” she said, a nostalgic spark in her eyes. “We used to fantasize about living somewhere close like Brooklyn Heights where we could see them every day. Funny enough, I ended up going to a school there for a while.”

“For some reason, I always liked staring at those buildings. I asked my grandma about it once, and she told me they were my symbol of hope.” she recalled then mimicked her grandmother, “She said, ‘If this place is the darkness, then those buildings are your light’. I didn’t know what she meant back then but looking back, I kind of get it. I always hoped things would get better someday, and I guess that’s what those buildings meant to me. Of course, things never got better so…yay for me, right?”

She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, then lowered her eyes to ground. She brought her left hand to the side of her face, her fingers curled and palm resting against her cheek. “My grandma was my only friend. Both of my grandparents were – well, are. She was the sweetest person I’ve ever known, and she was always happy. We’d watch stories together sometimes, talked about a bunch of stuff, took walks and what not, and she even taught me how to bake. Almost every day was fun.”

A sad smile crept on her face, and she tried her best not to choke up on her words. “She passed away two years ago. And yeah, it still hurts sometimes but what can you do, right?”

She paused for a moment, taking a silent but subtle breath. “I miss her. She always told me to never give up and always believe in myself. But after trying and being alone for so long, I couldn’t do it anymore. I feel like I let her down but, I know she’d never think that.”

“A-Anyway, fast forward a bit and here we are, he-he.” she hurriedly finished, ending her story, and wiping her eyes. “That’s all there is to know about me. Not much of a story, huh?”

She looked to Lox only to find him blankly staring at her.

(Wait, did I bore him or something?)

Having heard all she said, Lox’s eyes dimmed as he spoke. “So, your solution to the problem is to be by yourself even though you don’t wanna be by yourself? Bruh, what kind of backwards shit is that?”

(Annnd he’s back to mocking me.)

She gave him a strained smile then replied “It’s not all bad, really. I’ll just get a few cats and live out the rest of my life with them. Sure, they’ll probably gnaw at my corpse when I’m dead, but at least I won’t be alone. Heh, look at that – a silver lining.”

His left brow raised and his right eye squinted in surprise. Realizing what she said, she shamefully looked away then balled a hand into a fist.

(Great job Christine! Tell a morbid joke! Ha-ha! That’s not weird at all!)

“Aight, well, whatever you say.” he replied, ignoring her bleak joke, then grabbed his water bottle and drank some more.

She frowned then looked off to the side, pouting like a guilt-ridden child. “What I said was totally weird, wasn’t it?”

He sat the bottle down. “Nope. That’s just you.”

“Just me? What does that mean?”

Ignoring her confused question, he stood up then took the towel wrapped around his neck and wiped the sweat from his face. “Ay yo, you hungry? It’s a spot on the east side that I wanna show you. They be serving breakfast all day.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure”.

She got up then dusted off the back of her jeans. Standing beside him reinforced just how tiny she was compared to him. She’d noticed it before, but now that they were in broad daylight, it’d finally set in. It was the difference between a teenager and an eight-year-old child, at least to her anyway. She let out a dejected sigh then followed him.

“Aight, look, we not about to walk in silence again. So, you better start talkin’ yo.” he said, looking over his shoulder.

“Wha –” she started to say then pouted. “Excuse me for lacking the proper social skills, guy!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. And I told you what my name is, right? So, you better remember that too.”

Peeved by his demands, she mumbled under her breath “Hard to forget when you’ve got a weird nickname like that.”

“You said something?”

“Nothing. Never mind” she said then quietly groaned.

-----------------------------

[berryylll]

Chaos

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

a/n : wrote this as a prompt based off my friends cat ☆

CW!! : Explosions, wounds, gore, implied animal death, implied human death, intense situations

wc : 670

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

Chaos. Ok well not literal chaos but chaos the cat! Garrett was sitting in his bed with the cat, petting chaos as they scrolled through their phone. Then a loud buzzing came from outside, then a boom and next thing Garrett knows, his hand, previously petting the black cat, was gone. Blown off. As was the rest of the house, and chaos nowhere in sight. What happened? An unanswerable question at the time, no context known besides an obvious explosion had happened. Garrett couldn't think of much, ringing and dizziness filling his head like cotton stuffed in a jar. He stood up shakily, stumbling to find a solid surface until he made it to the crumbling door frame. Door burnt but partially intact. The rest of his room looked like a ruin from some kind archeological site. Dust, concrete, smote wood broken and trashed everywhere. Including his hand, just sitting there on the ground roughly blown off and halfway there. Oh shit. With the realization he was going to be sick, correction, apparently he already was, in the midst of throwing up as recognition came to him. Garrett clutched the frame for some sort of grounding, a sort of stability to at least keep him standing. ‘This can’t be happening’ he thought, trying to get his mind to focus.

It smelled like burning garbage and popcorn smoke from a microwave. It only furthered the nausea he was feeling. He had to find someone and get help, there's no way he could stay here without medical attention. His mom was a doctor, he's sure she could help. But she was at work last time he checked, hopefully she came home after the explosion. Was it always this hot? Garrett walks out to the living room, also crumbling just as he found out the rest of the house was. He could hear screaming outside but was too exhausted and unfocused to check. The sound felt like a car swerving on a rocky road. Garrett didn’t know how that was possible but didn't enjoy the sound of it hitting his eardrums either way. Thankfully he still had working eardrums. No one was on the ground floor so he made his way to the basement. He stood at the stairwell of the entrance internally hating the experience of what it was gonna be like going down the stairs. When he got down there after throwing up one more and two quick trips to grab his bearings he found Goose and his mom hiding. His mom was frantically trying to patch up the burn wounds and almost melting skin on Goose’s face. Goose was Garrett's younger sister, her real name was Gracey but 5 year old Garrett thought Goose sounded better then her birth name. So it sort of stuck. “Am I interrupting a cuddle session?” Garrett spoke hoarsely, surprised he could speak at all.

“Garrett! Oh holy shit!”Goose said, surprised at his very presence, their mom was quick to correct the vulgar language.

But she let it go quickly, getting up to usher Garrett over, checking him quickly. Her eyes landed on his hand and those same eyes widened in absolute horror, worry and shock all at once. It felt like he was being cared for by an angry crow. A squawking and trembling voice erupting from his mother as she got something to cut off the circulation quickly shoving a bottle of water and an apple in his face. To which Garrett ate though hesitating at some point because of his already upset and uneasy stomach. Despite her wounds, though already bandaged, Goose would not stop asking questions about what happened to him, he answered as many as he could with his head slowly returning back to a somewhat normal state. After his forearm had been wrapped in a tourniquet, his mom told him how they had ended up down in the basement, thankfully safe from all of the horrible radiation and damage. Oh man did they have a lot to catch up on…

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Wreckless - On the Way

*Warning Adult Content*

Emmett

Sunday morning, after he rides me like the pony express.

I tell Finnegan that I want to go to Peter's but he hems and haws and tells me he'll decide after mass.

Now he's making me pancakes. Pancakes.

He's even making a fresh blueberry syrup.

I'm sitting at the table and he's in the kitchen which is a bit unusual but he's made himself at home the past few days.

That's fine by me but I feel sort of lazy letting him do it today since I feel so much better.

I don't even have a stupid wrap on my head anymore, I lost that Friday night and I've been using a butterfly bandage.

I'm getting spoiled and tell him so.

"You are not. You're getting back some of what you do for me every day."

He comes over and runs his fingers through my hair.

"Feels good, doesn't it? Just relax and let me take care of you for once."

"You've been taking care of me for days, darling and I'm fine."

But yeah, it did feel nice.

Does. I admit it.

I'm glad he thinks I take good care of him because I really do try.

"Did I tell you about them shaving my hair?"

He spins, spatula in hand.

"No but they obviously didn't."

"Oh, this is a wig."

He doesn't buy it for a second.

"No, the EMT told me that if I needed stitches and he was sure I would, that they'd shave it. Luckily they used the glue. I'd already been in a wreck, I didn't need that stress too."

"Poor Emmett, it was a very hard morning for you," he teases.

I stick my tongue out at him and make a face. 

"But I'm glad you didn't lose your locks, Mr. Locke." 

Okay, that's funny.

The pancakes are delicious and afterwards he gets dressed up and heads out.

I get a shower and then decide to go online and look at houses because having those two cars parked outside is a recipe for disaster.

Mrs. Lewis tries but there's only so much she can do.

Nothing. Nada.

Hopefully we'll get lucky next weekend because it needs to happen soon.

One, he's still taking those stupid pills to sleep.

Two, the new cars.

Three, I hate being in limbo.

The decision has been made and I'd rather be moved already.

There was way too much 'hurry up and wait' in the Army.

He comes home, strips out of his dress shirt and slacks and declares that...

"It's hot out there."

"Which is why we should be in a pool."

Then I realize that he probably needs to work... he's lost so much time because of me.

Well, the moron who hit me.

"But if you have to work, that's fine."

"I actually don't but I'm not sure sun and chlorine is going to be good for you."

I walk over and put my hands on his shoulders.

"Darling, I'm a big boy. I won't swim for hours, no and I will stay in the shade for some of the day but I'm not as pale as you are, either. I will be fine."

"I haven't seen Tristan in awhile."

That's it, I'm gonna win.

"It's not that far, we can go for an hour or two and I'm sure Tristan would love to see you."

"Okay, let me call him real quick. He said it didn't matter either way but I want to let him know."

"Of course. I'll pack our stuff."

Fifteen minutes later we're in the car and heading up 695 but don't make it very far.

It's a mess near route 40 and I tell him

"I know a back way, get off here, go west."

It's probably backed up at 70 and we can just take Rolling road.

Our new, fancy GPS however has a different plan and I just shrug and tell him to follow the computer.

We can't get that lost, I know my way around here and I'm curious.

"It's pretty around here," he says as we turn off of Rolling and onto a little side road.

We pass a park, take a left and then onto a road with houses worthy of the title 'pretty'.

The past road was cute, post-war capes and the sort of thing I grew up in.

But these?

These are nice although certainly not mansions.

He slams on the brakes.

Slams so hard that I grab the handle and put one hand on the dash.

"Look."

There's nothing.

"Back there."

He points and I turn halfway around in my seat.

A woman is putting up a sign.

It's a for-sale sign.

And the house, wow.

"Looks nice."

"And it has a garage, I think that's the side of it. I'm going to see if it's online."

He sticks his tongue out, just the tip, while he's searching and it's adorable.

I'm tempted to poke it but I resist.

"I can't find it."

"May not be listed yet, maybe tomorrow. We can write down the address and check."

"Or I can go ask her right now."

He backs up and pulls into the driveway.

This boy is bold.

As soon as she straightens up I know she's the realtor because her picture is on the sign.

Ann Stowers.

Alrighty.

"Ann?"

Seriously?

He goes in with the first name?

"Yes?"

"Is it on the market yet?"

"Officially not until tomorrow. If you're interested, I have a spec sheet."

She pulls a paper out of her bag and hands it to Finnegan.

He leans over so we can both see it and the details seem right.

It even has some pictures.

"It's empty?" he asks.

"Yes."

"I'd like to see it right now."

He's not asking, he's telling.

Damn, go business Finnegan Walker.

My man the VP.

She looks at us, at the brand new expensive car and at the fact that he's blocking her in and doesn't seem to be willing to leave.

"Sure, come on in. I don't have long."

"It won't take long."

[bananasofthorns]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

This is stupid, Joel decides. It’s about the fifth time in less than three days that he’s gone to say something to Etho only to realize that, for obvious reasons, Etho isn’t there.

He’s not sure why he’s so affected by Double Life when the previous games didn’t really get to him at all. Then again, he never really had a solid alliance those times. And he definitely didn’t have a soulmate. But still. He was perfectly happy to move on with his life as if nothing monumental had happened, thank you very much.

Even so, he is sometimes capable of not ignoring his problems and realizing when he’s being ridiculous, and this is one of those times. Seriously, he was perfectly fine without Etho before this. Gods - is that a thing he can say, still? If he, technically, is a god?

That’s a question for another time, he decides. The point is that he was fine without Etho before, and so he should definitely be fine without him now, even if it’s only been a few days. Maybe if he actually talks to Etho he’ll be better at adjusting, or whatever. Coping. Does he need to cope? 

He flicks up his comm interface and opens his contacts, only to pause. He doesn’t have Etho’s contact; it was automatically programmed into his comm during Double Life, but contact information doesn’t transfer between worlds unless he purposefully saves it, and he didn’t exactly think he’d be missing Etho like some— some abandoned puppy, or something, while Double Life was going on. So much for that plan. Maybe he can get Grian or Scar or someone to give him Etho’s contact next time they see each other during MCC.

He frowns. That seems too— personal, somehow? Too close to home? For some reason, he feels like it would be weird to ask any of the Hermits who were in Double Life for Etho’s contact. Like they’ll know too much, or something. But who else can he ask? He doesn’t really talk to any of the other Hermits unless they’re on a world together, and—

Oh, he’s an idiot. He literally traded with Gem, like, yesterday. How did he forget that?

“Goodness gracious,” he mutters under his breath.

He’s about to jump off the island and fly over before remembering that he should maybe check to see if she’s even home, just so that he doesn’t look like an idiot by showing up only to realize she’s halfway across the world or something.

Smallishbeans whispered to GeminiTay: Gem Smallishbeans whispered to GeminiTay: are you home?

Luckily, it doesn’t take her very long to respond, so he isn’t left standing on the edge of his island like an idiot.

GeminiTay whispered to Smallishbeans: yeah what’s up

Smallishbeans whispered to GeminiTay: can I come by real quick?

GeminiTay whispered to Smallishbeans: sure! I’m just doing some building

Smallishbeans whispered to GeminiTay: be right there

It doesn’t take him long to make the flight. Gem is waiting for him when he lands; she greets him with a bright smile and a wave that he returns, though his is somewhat awkward because the last time he was here he was giving her bees to prevent some sort of international dispute. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to hold that against him.

“Hey, Joel! What’s up?”

Joel clears his throat. Gem barely reaches up to his waist right now, since he’s 11 feet tall and all that, and something about the height difference feels like it’s offending her more than he’s ever felt like he’s offended any other empire. He sits down cross-legged just off the path. Gem laughs.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, but I feel weird, otherwise. Anyway, I have...kind of an odd question...? For you?”

“Hit me.” She pauses. “Not literally. What’s your question?”

“Do you happen to have Etho’s contact?”

To her credit, she barely pauses. “Hm. I can check, but I don’t think I ever saved it to my communicator, sorry. You could go ask False, maybe? She’s known him a lot longer than I have.”

Damn. “No, that’s fine. Uh, would you mind passing on a message, though? Next time you’re on Hermitcraft.”

“Sure! What do you want me to say? We can write it down or something, that would make it a lot easier, because then I wouldn’t have to remember it or anything.” She hesitates, watching Joel with a scrutinizing look in her eye that he’s not sure he likes. “And I won’t look at it, if you don’t want me to.”

He makes a face. “It’s not gonna be anything bad.”

“I know! But, like— privacy’s important, you know, Joel. I respect that.”

He chuckles. “Thanks, Gem.”

Somehow, he always forgets how genuinely nice she is. Maybe it’s because he’s intimidated by her.

Not that he’s scared. He’s not scared of anything. But he will admit that Gem, at times, can be very intimidating.

“I’ll write something down,” he decides. “Uh, do you happen to have a piece of paper I could borrow? I haven’t got any on me.”

“Of course! Somewhere. Follow me, we’ll find some.”

She turns and bounces down the path deeper into Dawn. Joel follows.

[phoenixyfriend]

In Which Palpatine Leaves the Door Open

So, @purronronner suggested this on discord:

au where anakin finds out about palpatine during clone wars era like, coming in for a visit and overhears a conversation with Dooku about war planning he’s been pulled between palpatine and the Jedi/obi-wan/various things but I want to see him pulled between palpatine and his men could go either way on the sith part of the reveal even

palpatine is not aware! unless anakin’s course of action is to go “hey palpatine I must have misunderstood something right? :(“

(This was a group effort but there's a thing I wrote that requires this context so please bear with me.)

I'm just imagining Anakin backing out, closing the door, and turning to the Corrie Guard by the door to say a thing... and not finding words.

Eventually "Did you guys know he was evil?" "He's a politician, sir." "But like the evil ranting..." "He's a politician. Sir."

He's willing to use his men to save R2, but that's because R2 was part of the team and helping, not arranging battles to make things worse.

Anakin: Normally, I'd go to Palpatine to talk about my problems, but right now he is the problem... Obi-Wan and Yoda are off-planet.... Anakin, phoning up Padme: Help?

Per @atagotiak we also have some Intense Thoughts

Oh hey. The deception arc. And the subsequent argument that we don't see and stuff. Like there's all the ways you could justify it especially from an opsec standpoint (If Anakin acts like that around Padme why would anyone assume he can keep a secret about anything?) And it was a pretty tactically important thing for the war as far as anyone knew. But just. I've heard some people say that perhaps also Obi-Wan reasoned that hurting Anakin is an ok price to pay to make sure someone Anakin cares for doesn't die for real which seems plausible enough.

Anyways. My point is. Anakin gets a front row seat to sheevception when he actually sorta knows whats going on. Gets sidetracked halfway through yelling and stuff to think about how convoluted this whole mess is.

For more clone-centric things all the times Palpatine's like "I wish I could do more, it's truly regrettable, but..." Would just seem awfully fake now.

Anakin, belatedly: Wait, does this mean that, behind all the layers of bullshit, Palpatine was the one trying to kill Padme at the start of the war???

WHICH IS WHAT LEADS TO A WHOLE LOT OF FUN and yes this is the part I'm sort of proud of.

Okay so: Anakin's a shit liar, yes?

After he meanders over to Padme and has a breakdown, he then goes off to tell the Council about all this. I imagine she goes with him as moral support, and also because she wants to protect him from them calling him out on his legitimately terrible decisions. They're trying to come up with a plan to take Palpatine down without tipping their hands too early, because they need to investigate; for the sake of this plot point, we'll say that Palpatine mentioned a contingency plan while talking to Dooku, even if he didn't directly name the chips.

Someone mentions that Palpatine is going to ask to see Anakin, because he does regularly. And, as experience has shown, there is very little that will stop Palpatine from insisting that Anakin come see him. They can stall for a bit, maybe, but not for long.

"You could send me to the other side of the galaxy," Anakin suggests. "Short notice, so sorry, won't be around for a bit."

They point out that won't work forever.

"So... arrest me, or put me on a mental health hold?" Anakin tries. "Say I got violent at civilians or the clones for no reason and you need to make sure I won't hurt him, and then even if he visits me in the cell, I don't have to act normal 'cause he'll EXPECT me to be upset."

Palpatine presumably has spies all over, so he'd know that hadn't actually happened. Also, Anakin's too important to the war effort for anything short of a cold-blooded murder of an innocent, and they can't just take him off the field without an absolutely massive violation of the Code or his orders.

"Tell him I Fell," Anakin offers.

A Sith Lord would be able to feel that from across the galaxy, if it had happened, especially with the amount of time that he's put into grooming Anakin.

"Oh," Anakin says, and his stomach drops out as he realizes that he can either keep his secrets, or keep people alive.

He thinks about how Palpatine had targeted Padme already, and how if Palpatine thinks Anakin's betrayed him, then he'll probably do that again.

He thinks about 'a Sith Lord would know' and realizes... well.

Anakin values his freedom, but he also values his men, his padawan, his master, his wife... the wife that's in danger if Palpatine knows that Anakin caught him out.

The Order has to keep Anakin away from Palpatine. They need an excuse to arrest him. They need an excuse to hide him away, one that Palpatine won't question too hard.

A Sith Lord would know if Anakin fell. Even if he came back afterwards.

"So... so tell him you found out about the Tusken Massacre."

The what.

"...tell him you found out about the time I actually did Fall," Anakin says, squeezing Padme's hand. She knows. She's the only one who knows, on Coruscant, other than the Sith they're hunting. "On... on Tatooine. You can claim it was an anonymous tip. He already knows about that one. He's one of the only two people outside Tatooine that do. He might not question it."

(He won't question it.)

What did you do, Skywalker.

"I killed... a lot of people. A Tusken tribe. Including the children. Right before the war hit."

----

It's a hell of a way to fall on his figurative sword.

(Mace is... both impressed that Anakin would take the hit to make sure they can handle the Palpatine problem, and horrified about the Massacre, because... who wouldn't be.)

(Mace is unfortunately Anakin's main handler on this project.)

Anakin puts in so much effort, all the time, into not Falling, so it’s surprisingly (terrifyingly!) easy for him to fake a 'near miss' with the Dark just by thinking really hard about things that make him angry. Nobody wants him actually Falling for the ploy if they can help it, but they need to sell the bit, and Anakin's... well. He's Anakin. It's easy to think about his own emotional volatility until any control goes out the window.

He's sacrificing a lot for this mission! It's fine! He's fine!

(Padme, the council is judging you so hard right now.)

Palpatine comes to visit Anakin in prison, and it is very easy for Anakin to disguise his anger as... a different anger. I have a very intense mental image of Anakin working himself up into a frenzy when Palpatine comes to visit, and then at some point in the following conversation he just snaps something about how "you said they were animals who deserved to die."

The Council can even eke it out a bit, make it so they don't want to admit why Anakin's in prison or under a psychiatric hold or whatever they claim it is, so their "I'm hiding something vibes" look like "I'm hiding the fact that one of our most recognizable war heroes just came clean as a mass murderer and we have no idea how to handle it" instead of "I'm hiding that we know you're a Sith Lord and are working to take you down."

Obi-Wan comes back from an off-world mission to find out that Mace arrested his former padawan and Ahsoka hasn't stopped crying for three days because nobody will tell her what's going on.

(The Council decided this couldn't be risked on even an encrypted comm.)

(They maybe tell him soon enough? But also they might treat it like the Hardeen thing and use his reaction as fuel to keep Palpatine convinced.)

SKYGUY GOT ARRESTED AND NOBODY'S EXPLAINING WHY.

Rex is overwhelmed because it's been his job to keep her calm.

Anyway, padawanship has been temporarily transferred to the grandmaster. You were half-training her anyway.

Insert a subplot about Obi-Wan being horrified and betrayed and aiming the feeling at Padme because she knew about the Tuskens and never told.

[snaileer]

YJ/DP Crossover Part 2

One day, Phantom walks into the kitchen and the back of his hair has gone black. At his behest, the team dismisses it, they are still at least a little worried, but they’re willing to trust Phantom. He would know, right?

Until Phantom starts to get progressively more exhausted, sleeping more and getting more tired after fights.

When he sleeps, no one can wake him up for hours.

At one point, Wally says, “he sleeps like the dead these days,”

Robin worries about how true that might be.

Phantom’s lost his color, streaks of black run up his hair, his glow is barely visible in the daytime and honestly, even his face is starting to look thinner, paler, more…. dead.

He doesn’t think Phantom notices it, or at least doesn’t think there’s something wrong with it.

When Phantom starts to really lose control of his intangibility, Batman tries to bench him. He’s been periodically dropping things and getting stuck halfway through walls for the last couple days.

Phantom comes along on the next mission anyways.

It’s a little bit of a disaster, so honestly, Robin doesn’t think he minds.

The giant octopus flings green goo at the team again. Maybe it’s supposed to be ink?

Either way, everyone jumps out of the way.

Well.

Everyone except Phantom; who had his leg stuck in the pavement below, yanking fruitlessly at it.

He gets absolutely smothered by the mass of ink. Wally takes a picture and starts laughing, Robin does too, until the ink starts to disappear.

It takes a second to realize it’s getting absorbed, that Phantom is absorbing it.

Had he misjudged it? Was it some sort of poison? Something absorbed through the skin? Except- the goo glows against Phantom’s suit, Phantom’s own glow getting brighter.

Everything about Phantom seems to get more… alive. It’s a contradiction. But Phantom seems more ghostly and alive than he’d been in weeks.

“Oh yeah! Now that’s what I’m talking about! Let’s party Ectopus!” The Moment all the goo is dissolved Phantom shoots up to the giant green octopod they’d been fighting.

No one had been able to land a good hit, until Phantom flew into it with a massive uppercut.

Breaks start to form as the octopus tears into several smaller creatures. All identical, all green, glowing /flying/- what had Phantom called them?- ectopuses?

What even was Robin’s life?

He stands to help Phantom fight, only to be stopped abruptly by a strong tattooed arm.

“Aqualad?”

“I do not believe this one is our fight, Robin,” Aqualad looks up at the fight, “Nor are we needed.”

He’s right, by the time the rest of the team has gathered back together and started watching, it’s already over.

Phantom has collected a decent number of person sized green octopuses clumped into a pile.

“Phantom!” Aqualad calls to him.

Phantom looks at them with a very confused expression but floats closer, “Why am I- What was I-Where-Wait, who are you guys?”

The question strikes something cold and sharp across Robin’s chest. He can tell it does the same for the others.

“Do you not-“

“Hey, quit playin’ around man, that’s not cool!” Wally shouts, looking irritated. Robin doesn’t think he’s joking. He thinks Wally knows that too.

“I don’t-“ Something blinks in Phantom’s eyes. Literally. The green flickers to a pale blue for barely a second before it’s gone. “I have to get home. Have to get back to the portal. Can’t leave it unattended.” Phantom turns abruptly and zooms off in a straight direction.

“Kid Flash!” Aqualad shouts,

“On it!” Wally is gone, yellow sparks following the white blur in the distance.

The remaining three scramble into the Bioship, M’gann has it up and flying in seconds.

They catch up to Wally on the outskirts of Wisconsin, already a couple states away, but Wally barely looks winded. He runs up to them as they exit, words flying out at a million miles an hour.

The most Robin gets from it is, Wally was chasing him and he was heading in a straight line until he suddenly slammed to stop, like he’d hit a wall. Except there was no wall and now Phantom was laying unconscious on some old dairy farm

“Mention that first KF!”

“Sorry! You said tell you the whole thing!”

“Perhaps we should help our friend instead of arguing over how long it takes to help him?” Aqualad brushes between the two hero teens with a disapproving look.

They come upon Phantom in the field, a beacon for miles with the bright toxic green glow emanating from him.

He looks more like a ghost than ever.

Robin is terrified that if he tries to shake his shoulder, his hand is will go right through again.

Superboy has no such qualms. The moment they touch, Phantom sucks in a giant gasp and the light flashes brighter.

When it dies down, Phantom is sitting there, propped up on his elbows, stifling a yawn like he’d just taken a nap right there in the dirt.

Well, I guess, technically he did, but it’s the prospect of the thing!

“What’s up guys?”

The nonchalant look on Phantom’s face makes a vein twitch in Aqualad’s eye, Robin can just barely see it jerk in his peripheral vision.

“Are you okay?” Superboy asks gruffly. Phantom tilts his head all the back to look up at him standing above, only to immediately twist around and fly above him.

“Okay? I feel great! Best I’ve felt in weeks!” Phantoms floats gently in front of them and looks around, “huh, maybe I should nap in dirt fields more often. What are we doing here anyways?”

“That’s what we wanted to ask you!” Wally throws his hands up in the air. Then he slumps and pulls his cowl back, “This is always how it-“

“Red hair.”

“What?” Kid flash looks up confusedly, this is a weird time to insult him, especially coming from white top over there.

“Red hair,” phantom is staring intently at Wally’s head, “she has-had, which do I use if I’m the one that’s dead? But she had red hair.”

“Who, Phantom?” The team shares a look.

“My sister.”

Part 3: https://snaileer.tumblr.com/post/668622075092680704/please-finish-the-danny-phantom-and-young-justice

Part 1: https://snaileer.tumblr.com/post/661211386227064832/yjdp-crossover

[twocorvids]

oooo what about an inner monologue or thought process and Morty's feelings about Rick Prime?? :0 (for the writing thing??)

helloooo again! I’m sorry I send these so late at night but I guess that’s just when the mind starts working for me lol. more notes at the end! sorry if ooc!

———

Morty sometimes wonders what sort of person he'd have to be to catch his original grandfather's attention. It's not often, but it's an occasion that catches him in the night when his sheets are rustled around him. When the night reaches its pitch, and his mind is the lighter that flickers on and off, an annoying brightness in the corner of his mind that keeps him restless.

And when he inevitably turns to the ceiling and accepts it, his mind comes to take the chance to spark and catch fire. He comes alight with questions like What is he like and Could I see myself in him?

In the mornings afterwards, Morty doesn't think about them too much. He doesn't have to, when his real grandfather comes grumbling about. He can watch his Rick slouch in his chair and huff and puff as he makes his way through his breakfast. And Morty can tell himself to not think about it, and he doesn't.

For these fleeting moments, C-137 Rick can be his real, biological grandfather. No doctor would certainly know the difference, and Morty himself wouldn't know if he hadn't been taught. If Rick could be his grandfather for as long as the daylight stays, why couldn't he be all the time?

Yet, there was moments where this frozen moment in time thawed. Rick would slip and say something a little too mean, and Morty would drown in it. He would be caught in the waves, but his eyes would be caught in the stars, in the pitch black, in a different place.

How much is Rick like my Rick?

That particular thought struck him when he was in the garage, handing Rick some sci-fi tool that he can't be bothered to remember the name of — because his throat is closing up with the realization he doesn't know who he really means by 'my Rick.'

My Rick, he answers himself frantically, dropping the hard metallic thing in his hands. It makes a resounding enough clack on the floor to make him jump.

"Morty!" Rick hisses through his teeth. "Oh, goddamnit! Do you realize what a pain in the ass those are to get?"

"Uh, I don't know, ca — can't you just make a new one?" Morty says, a strange dissociation washing over him. Drowning him. He feels like he's floating somewhere far away. Something in him is perfectly neutral, uncaring about all the thoughts that rummage through him. This isn't his real grandfather, is he? This was a sad, weary old man, with wiry arms that would shake the wrath of God if he could, if it were possible. A man lonely enough to set up shop in someone else's life, enough to cling to flesh and blood that technically wasn't his own. But does that really matter?

Rick raises a bony hand to his head, rubbing at his uni-brow. Morty is stablizing with the weird knowledge that he can see the wrinkles on his grandpa's face and hands, the age, when Rick stops abruptly and he smiles. More of a snarl, if anything.

"You know what? I can," Rick reaches out and shoves his newest project to the side of his desk, "and I'd tell you what a fucking ball-buster it is, but I don't need to. Because you're about to find out, you little destructive bitch. Fucking brown-hair-that-looks-like-a-helmet looking asshole."

The remaining day is a long one. For once, it's one Morty is grateful for. It distributes the distraction he needs, and the jarring insults Rick dishes out along their merry way anchors him, even stings and heals like antiseptic.

"You know," Rick calls out right as the clock hits the 4AM point, "even through all this, you're still the biggest ball-buster. Seriously, think long and hard about this, Morty. This is the shit that always happens when you fuck up my shit. And just how many times do you pull it?" Rick sneers at him, screwing something into the halfway-done device.

"Enough times for it to be your fucking hobby, practically a college course you take in order to figure out how to screw my stuff up as much as possible. Is it a fun little pastime, pissing grandpa off? Pissing Rick Sanchez off? Huh, Morty?”

Morty's mind flickers again, on and off, and his sigh was deep when he looked up at the ceiling. Another night long and gone, past, with him harboring the same thoughts like some terrible secret.

It's in week four of this nonsense when the problem seemed to finally solve itself.

"Rick — Rick!" Morty howls, twisting and turning. "I'm, I'm sorry, okay? Fine, I was being a — a cocky asshole, okay? You win." All that answers him is the rustling of leaves and a wind that chills him down to his pulsing heart. It thumps louder in his ears when he grabs his hair, right as the realization that he's lost and alone on the alien planet, Zateria, strikes him like lightning.

Alone on Zateria, with hunters right on his tail. Man-eaters. Alien hunters with a penchant for human flesh. He's dizzy with it, with the way he can feel his pulse spike if he presses his thumb hard enough to his veins when he hears the familiar yells in foreign tongue.

He bolts, weaving through the black-leafed trees. His ears ring at the sound of guns and his legs shake, but he still jumps over the occasional purple log easily enough.

In a way, this is the easy part. His extraterrestrial sojourns with his grandfather have made the simple act of running more than instinct, more than human nature. It was innate, both to his general sense of identity and his desire to live. As long as his blood keeps rushing, he ought to as well.

He smacks into a dense tree, bark scratching at his hands and arms, and cowers behind it. He drops to his knees and sits, heart racing. Now, this is the hard part. Waiting, hiding, having enough time for the adrenaline to cool in his body. It's enough time for his head to kick into overdrive, for his mind to scald and burn.

He hears a shot right next to his right ear, jolts up to his left from his hiding place, and he's suddenly burning all over near his abdomen.

"For the love of god, Morty," Someone — Rick — yells as Morty drops to the ground, overcome with heat and nausea. He feels as though his thoughts are dragging behind him, barely processing in his brain, hardly paying attention to the influx of gunshots and cursing. He presumes that Rick is the body that crashes next to him.

He feels his grandfather's calloused hands grasp at his shoulders, gently hoisting him up.

"You do realize we don't have portal travel anymore, right? You — You can't just bet on me being able to save your dumb little ass all the time." Rick says, moving to hold Morty up with one arm as his other lifts his shirt to assess the damage. Morty winces, but if he looks close enough, he can see the creases, the cracks starting to show on Rick's face. He can feel Rick’s hands shake, the way he looks like he’s seeing a supernova burble to an end, the core of it collapsing in on itself.

“I told you not to run off. I fucking told you. I — I don’t even know if I have another one of these things on me.” Rick is rummaging through his labcoat, practically patting himself down as Morty weakly tries to balance himself. He tries, if nothing else can be said for Morty, he tries.

“You’re my grandpa.” Morty whispers, eyes watery. “Grandpa Rick.” The guilt bubbles up him like poison at the realization.

Rick breathes a shaky breathe and adds nothing, pulling a syringe out of his pocket.

“Jesus, would it kill you to listen to me instead of counting on dumb luck as your failsafe?” Rick snaps, holding Morty still as he sticks him with it. Morty spasms and wiggles, tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Morty says, suddenly. It’s brisk like a draft of wind. “I’m sorry, for being stupid.” He mumbles, head lowering as his shoulders shake. The wounds start to heal and patch themselves up, yet Morty still claws at his grandfather’s arm.

His mind flickers again, frantic. My grandpa, my grandpa, his mind resounds, my grandpa.

Rick merely stares.

Morty wraps his arms around him, arms like rope, tying him to this moment.

“You’re not like him,” Morty whispers, “I — I’m not. Neither of us are.”

And maybe that was the biggest insult to a man who had spent the majority of his life trying to achieve exactly that. To mirror, to reflect, all in the name of never having to truly look at himself again and inspect what that meant.

Rick is tense like the wood of the trees. Maybe, in a way, Morty is still trying to protect himself, trying to hide behind something sturdy. Behind the grandfather that actually stayed, the one that brushed his hair out of eyes and held him every once in a while.

He doesn’t have a way of knowing if Rick understands, but he raises his arms like he does. He holds his grandson in his arms cautiously, and it’s not clear who he considers to be most in danger here.

“We’re not,” Morty mumbles with the same weight of a star that quietly burns in the galaxy, in the distance. “We’re not.”

———

haha, yeah. I thought this would be shorter than the other one but it didn’t quite pan out that way. I have mixed feelings about this one honestly, but a big part of getting through these requests is getting myself into writing again, and I’m not sure I could do much better with the idea/ideas I had with this one. i think I may have done too much at once tbh. and I feel this one’s a lot more ooc than the other one. I hope you still enjoy it regardless! EDIT: in retrospect, I think I was being really cruel to myself last night lmaoo. it was late and I think I’m realizing I get really self-critical then and when I’ve been working on something awhile. I was rereading this A LOT and i guess it just started to blur together into something nonsensical to me. i actually like it a lot better now. It reads smoother than I thought it did so I’m actually kinda happy with it now lmaooo

[bucksfucks]

𝙁𝘽𝙍𝙊 ; 𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀 [𝟳/𝟭𝟭]

summary┃bucky’s past comes back with a vengeance and you’re determined to get the answers you’ve been searching for. 

pairing┃roommate!bucky x f!reader

word count┃2,682 words

warnings┃bucky’s past is revealed, character mentions; [sam wilson, natasha romanoff, tony stark], pet name [kid (platonic), sweets & baby], threats made against bucky + reader, trust-issues, mention of hit-men, brief mention of death, phone sex, praise kink, masturbation, mention of toys, slight angst, soft ending — 18+ ONLY • MINORS DNI

notes┃there is A LOT of plot here but also some filthy goodness and a sprinkle of angst <<3

SERIES MASTERLIST

     Ex-wife.

    Bucky’s words echoed in your ears as he didn’t dare to look at you.

    His ex-wife was threatening you.

    And he didn’t think to mention her? Ever?

    “Can I please explain?” Bucky croaked finally, voice sounding broken as you shrugged your shoulders — in a state of shock.

    That was all he needed before he recounted his previous relationship with the woman who was now sending you threatening emails.

    Married young, too young and too fast and it ended up blowing up in their faces.

    Well, clearly she hadn’t gotten over it.

    “I thought I lost her,” he explains. “I thought that moving halfway across the country would be enough.”

    You finally looked up to meet his eyes, glossy, sad and terrified as you sniffled.

    “There’s a reason only Tasha calls me James.”

    It broke your heart hearing that, the way his head hung low and he nearly winced at the sound of his own goddamn name.

    But you didn’t know who to trust anymore.

    Bucky always glossed over how he, Sam, and Nat knew each other — telling you that they were old friends that go back.

    How far back?

    You needed to know, but clearly you weren’t about to get answers from him.

    “Buck,” he stopped you, taking a step closer as his eyes begged and pleaded you not to finish your sentence. 

    “I can’t,” he shook his head, “I need some time.” 

    You couldn’t bring yourself to say those words that would shatter both of your world’s. But you had no idea what the hell you had gotten yourself into and you needed answers. 

    And you knew exactly who to go to for them. 

    “I understand,” Bucky sighed. “I’ll stay at Sam’s for some time, okay?” 

    You could only nod your head, watching him walk past you and into his door. 

    Then he shut it, something he never did because his door was always open for you. No matter what you needed and no matter what time of day it was. 

    It felt...wrong. 

    But you couldn’t dwell on it, grabbing your keys, phone, and whatever other important things you could think of being you nearly bolted out of the front     door. 

    You plugged your headphones into your phone, hitting shuffle and descending down into the subway. 

    The entire ride made you anxious, slowly approaching your stop and you were way out of place in this crowd. 

    People rushed by you in expensive suits and what you could only guess were the infamous red-soled shoes that were worth close to your monthly rent, if not more. 

    You cringed, thinking of the man you were about to see in his stupidly tall office building that you had to crane your neck at an uncomfortable angle just     to get a look at. 

    The elevator could not have taken longer, tapping your foot impatiently as you rode up to what felt like the heavens before the doors opened to revel smooth wooden doors that reach from the ceiling to the floor. 

    You were so close, before you were stopped. 

    “Ma’am, I’m sorry, you can’t be here right now.” A man’s voice stopped you, dressed in a security guard uniform and oh, this was so him. 

    “I know him,” you said, intent on seeing the man probably sitting behind those large doors. 

    “I’m sorry, I can’t let you do th—”

    “It’s okay, Marv. I know her,” his voice came not from behind the doors, but from the long hallway to your left. 

    The security guard, Marv, nodded his head as he looked at you once more before retreating back to where he was leaning against one of the walls. 

    “This is a surprise,” you rolled your eyes, “Tony, please. I don’t wanna hear it.” 

    He walked over to you, embracing you in a hug, “oh c’mon, I’ve missed you, Kid.” 

    You shook your head, “I haven’t been a kid in years,” you tried to remind him, but it was Tony, he wasn’t going to listen as he just laughed it off and welcomed you into his office. 

    It was much different from last time, all new furniture and appliances, but nothing lasted more than a year with Tony. 

    Tony was an old friend, sort of.

    He was an old friend of your father’s, something like an uncle, but also like your older brother. 

    So just one giant pain in your ass.

    “So,” Tony sighed. “What trouble did you get into this time, Kid?”

    You told Tony everything. 

    From being roommates with Bucky to the way he asked you to be his fake girlfriend to Sam’s wedding and all the way to the situation you were in now. Confronted by his ex-wife without any idea of what she was going to do. 

    Tony had that look on his face. The one where he was going to tell you that you were crazy. 

    “I don’t know how you manage to get yourself into these situations,” he chuckled, hand clamping over your shoulder as he walked around his desk and typed something into his computer. 

    “Last name is,” he looked at you. “Barnes.” 

    He nodded his head, typing away at his computer again before he stopped. 

    There was a brief moment of silence, Tony hiding behind the computer screen before he stood up and walked back around the desk, “I’m gonna need some time.”

    You understood, shaking your head. You were asking Tony to hack into any known database and collect as much data on Bucky as you could. It was wrong, but you just needed to know who you were dealing with. 

    “Thank you, Tony. I-I really appreciate it.” You weren’t good when it came to...well, the heartfelt side of things but luckily neither was Tony. 

    “Don’t get sappy on me now, Kid. You know it makes me sick,” he joked playfully, smile on his lips as you stood up to give him a half hug. 

    “I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.” He promised before you walked out of the too-tall building with far more questions than you came with. 

    It was a waiting game that you didn’t want to play, but you didn’t have a choice. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

    It seemed like your relationship with Bucky was doomed from the start. 

    Friends to lovers rarely, if ever, works out in anyone’s favour. 

    The fake dating trope you could handle, pushing your feelings aside to help Bucky win a bet didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world. You had a great time, great fucking sex, and a trip out of it. 

    Then Steve wouldn’t leave the picture. Going as far as coming to the wedding as Natasha’s boyfriend to spite you not realizing that you and Bucky had gotten married. 

    Married. 

    You and Bucky were married. Bonded in a whole other way and now, his ex-wife was out for you and him. 

    Maybe this was a sign from the universe, a big red fucking flag telling you that it wasn’t worth it and yet...you couldn’t let go. 

    The apartment felt empty without Bucky, his bedroom left the way it was in the morning with your favourite sweater of his laid out on the covers and a little post-it note on top of it. 

    You never could really decipher Bucky’s handwriting. It was absolute chicken scratch as you picked it up and managed to make out in case you get cold scribbled onto it. 

    It was an easy decision to pull it over your head and drown yourself in the scent of Bucky’s cologne as you fiddled with the small gold band you now wore around your neck as a necklace. 

    You didn’t want anyone other than Bucky. There was no in the world who understood you better. Who knew how to make you laugh when you were having a bad day. 

    Everything led you right back to Bucky. 

    So when your phone rang from the other side of the couch, you were secretly hoping it was Bucky. 

    Instead, Tony’s name flashed and your heart sank into your stomach as you quickly hit answer and held the phone up to your ear. 

    “You’re not gonna like this, Kid.” Tony’s voice flowed through the speakers as you took a shaky breath in and braced yourself for what Tony was about to tell you. 

    “He did a damn good job at erasing his history, but you can’t erase all of it,” Tony chuckled as you rolled your eyes, “quit stalling.”

    He sighed, “the Howling Commandos was an organization tasked with,” he paused, “tasked with collecting intel and making sure that information never got released to the public.” 

    This time, it was your turn to fall silent. 

    “Like, spies?” You asked and Tony hummed, “sort of.” 

    “They had spies, agents, hit-men.” 

    No. You shook your head, no. 

    “James Buchanan Barnes was their highest ranking hit-man. Him, along with Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanova worked as a team. A spy, agent, hit-man trio.” 

    You had to shake yourself out of spiralling, what you needed was everything Tony could possible tell you. 

    “Anything on his ex-wife?” You then asked and heard shuffling on the other line, “not much. Mary Barnes, but I doubt that’s her real name, was part of a training initiative the Howling Commandos were testing.” 

    You bit your lip, at least you had a name, even if it wasn’t her real name. 

    “By that point it looks like James—” 

    “Bucky. His name is Bucky.” 

    Tony cleared his throat after a moment’s silence, “Bucky looks like he had disappeared. Blipped off of the face of the Earth. There’s nothing in his file after 2014.” 

    That makes sense. Bucky was perhaps the most old-fashioned man you knew, only upgrading from his flip-phone just a few years ago. He barely knew how to unlock it, though. 

    “Sam and Natasha went on to live normal lives, Kid. I’m sure that’s all Bucky wants.” Tony tries to assure you and you laugh, “you sound like my dad.” 

    He laughed on the other line, “oh gross.” 

    “Thanks for everything, Tony.” You said, “you know what number to call in case you’re in trouble.” 

    With that, you both hung up, tossing your phone away from you to digest everything you’d just been told. You knew you had to talk to Bucky, but you didn’t know when. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

    “So you’re tellin’ me,” Sam was confused. “That this is the same Mary that tried to get you killed?” 

    Bucky rolled his eyes, taking another swing of his beer as he rounded Sam’s kitchen island. 

    “That’s the one, you know, the undercover agent working for Strucker.” Bucky scowled at the name. 

    He was angry, beyond angry at the fact that his past was creeping up on him despite how far he had gone to erase it. 

    “But why now? Why come after you now?” Sam poses the question that even Bucky doesn’t have an answer to. So he just shrugs his shoulders and finishes off his beer. 

    “Unfinished business.” 

    They stand in silence for a little while longer, listening to the old ticking clock hanging on the wall before Sam takes a step towards Bucky. 

    “Whatever you need, you know that Tasha and I are here for you, right?” He whispers and Bucky feels the warmth blooming in his chest as he gives him a half-smile. 

    “Yeah,” he nods his head, “thanks, man.” 

    Sam knows that Bucky was never really good at the sappy shit, so he doesn’t force it. Instead, he offers him another beer, bottle necks clinking as Bucky’s thoughts race. 

    He was worried. 

    Not about himself, but about you. 

    And you were worried about Bucky, curling up in his bed as you sighed and tossed and turned. There was no way you’d be able to fall asleep alone tonight. And hugging his pillow just wasn’t enough. 

    So you grabbed your phone, hitting his name and waiting for the ringing to sound before he picked up — tired and groggy.

    “We need to talk.” You didn’t give him a chance to greet you. He sighed on the other line, but hummed in agreement, “tomorrow?”

    You hummed in response to his question, the sound of his voice soothing as you played with the sheets of his bed.

    “I miss you, Sweets.” Bucky whispered, your breathing hitching at how low and raspy his voice really was.

    “I miss you too, Bucky.” You admitted, shifting as you got comfortable on the pile of pillows against your head.

    There was a moment of silence before Bucky spoke again.

    “You know what ‘m really missin’ right now?” His words sent a shiver down your spine as you shakily inhaled, “what?”

    Bucky sighed, reminiscent of how he sighs when he runs his hands all over your body. 

    “I miss that sweet cunt of yours.” Bucky purrs, you know he’s smirking, possibly even dragging his tongue across his bottom lip as he closes his eyes to imagine you under him. 

    You’re at a loss for words, feeling your panties grow damp, core aching and you’re going to have to touch yourself soon. But that’s all part of Bucky’s plan, you think. 

    “Here I am, all alone, with my hand wrapped ‘round my cock,” he whispers, but you can hear him stroking himself. 

    “And all I can think ‘bout is that way your tight little pussy grips me and milks my fuckin’ dick, baby.” Bucky was always so good with his words, knowing exactly what to say to make you melt. 

    And it was working, because you were a squirming mess in his bed. 

    “Well,” you could tell he was smirking by his tone, “what’re ya waitin’ for, Sweets. Go on, touch yourself. I wanna hear you work your clit.” 

    Your hand flew under your panties, being given the permission only made it sweeter as your fingers came in contact with your soaking folds. The sensitive bundle of nerves needed desperate attention as you slowly circled it. 

    “Good girl, that’s my girl.” Bucky praised, continuing to work himself. 

    “God,” he hissed, “can’t wait to have you all to myself again. Bury myself deep, maybe even have you sit on my cock as you beg me to do somethin’.” 

    You worked yourself a little faster, applying some more pressure as you let out a whine at his words. 

    “Add two fingers, Sweets. I know how much you love bein’ stretched,” Bucky chuckled deeply, “been thinkin’ of gettin’ you a mould of my fuckin’ dick for when ‘m not home.” 

    Oh my God. Oh my God that shouldn’t be so fucking hot so why does it make your walls flutter and breathing uneven as you have to stop yourself from actually fucking cumming. 

    He chuckles again, “yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

    You can’t verbally respond, too focused on the tight coil in your abdomen that’s ready to snap. 

    “I know you’re close, can hear it in how fuckin’ desperate you sound,” he pants, “so why don’t you make a mess all over my clean sheets.” 

    You gasp, how did he know, but you don’t get to dwell on it for much longer than a moment because your orgasm rips through you and leaves you panting Bucky’s name. 

    Both of your breaths are uneven and ragged through the phone’s speakers, bed springs creaking on Bucky’s side as he hums. 

    “If only you could see the miss I made for you, Sweets,” you shuddered at his words, closing your eyes to relish in the moment. 

    “Now get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” His tone has changed, entirely sweet and caring as you grab the phone to bring him closer to you. 

    “Okay,” you reply, another lick of silence before you hear Bucky going to end the call but you stop him. 

    “I love you, Bucky.” You quickly blubber out and it feels good to finally say those words because there’s no more denying how you really feel about him. 

    “I love you too, Sweets.” 

    It’s a bittersweet ending to the phone call, thoughts and emotions running wild as you’re forced to remind yourself that Bucky has a lot of explaining to do.