#bc you'll take the torture and you'll take the pain

[helianthus21]

there's sth about "You should've never been born" vs "Were you born just to torture me?" that just,,,,, hgggg

[love-toxin]

oh my god ur eric draven piece….. him finishing his revenge spree and still continuing to live afterwards is just insane. like grappling with the fact that he’s Still here and stuck with the grief and emptiness even after he’s killed everyone who hurt him and shelly…… im sick. im ILL!!! resenting becoming human again bc its torture…. he needs to be comforted and by god i’ll do it (LMAO)

ugh!! i love it!!!! the absolute horror of putting all your rage into a single act of self-sacrificing vengeance only to realize there's no going home in the end....just have to sit with what you've done and realize you don't belong anywhere anymore. everybody you love and hate are dead, and the few people of the former that aren't you can't have anything to do with because being near them will only hurt them worse. knowing you're probably a monster and you'll never find love or comfort again, but even worse, you don't know if you even deserve that much in the first place.

so when you come along and you try to get close to him, he shies away. flees if he has to. hides. you remind him too much of the life he loved before his death and it's too painful knowing he'll never have that again. he forgot there were sweet people and kind people and people who love indiscriminately and because you're one of them, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to you despite telling himself it can never go any further. he has to hold back. you deserve someone alive and...happy. you don't need his burdens weighing you down, you've got a whole life to live and people to meet and lovers to spend your life with.

but because he's drawn to you, he finds purpose. people in this city love to prey on the vulnerable, the weak, and the fragile, they would even eat each other alive if it came down to it. and the thought of you ever being in pain, in trouble, of you being accosted on your way to work or grabbed on your way home--oh, it boils his icy blood. he would rather rip his own limbs off than ever see you taken advantage of by some filthy scum off the street.

so even though he hates it--hates being alive, hates having to live with his regrets and suffer his pain--he seeks his purpose through more destruction. remorseless life-taking. nobody who hurts you or tries to hurt you is innocent, so they all deserve to be taken out with the trash in the worst ways possible. the man who drugged your drink is dragged out the back door of the bar. the guy who bugged your car has his own blown up while he's in it. the creeps who jiggle your doorknob at night hoping it's unlocked? they'll never find all the pieces of those ones.

because you're deserving of so much more than a life of feeling scared and being alone. Eric tells himself that if you ever find a partner that can protect you he'll stop following you around, but he knows deep down that's not really gonna happen. he'll follow you to the grave. besides, you have so much love to give and he can't deny that he deeply enjoys how badly you want to get close to him, to know the man that is always in your peripheral but can't quite work up the nerve to say hello. even though he's convinced it can never be, he can't help wondering whenever he stops and stares at you from across the street in the rain, watching you through the window as you work....could you be the reason he's still here?

[halimpark7]

People love the taste of torture. They love seeing the anorexic models that starve, the dancers move on their pointe shoes, the horses with acid painted on their ankles... the big kick. Laying knees buckled in the stables, unable to stand because of the pain.

Chinese women with their feet bound, swaying from one broken foot to the other.. Their heels unable to be taken off because society decided that was beauty.

The strippers on the pole, single moms with abusive dads and jealous boyfriends.

The caged animals, lions gorillas, chained or on rope, behind bars.

It's torture. Pain. Suffering. Dressed up with a smile. Pain in high heals. Lying with the air of "Im dying inside" people love that shit, eat it up like ice scream. People love the feeling of someone else slowly dying, of someone suffering for them while they sit there doing nothing.

People love the feeling of God, life energy. And when people are dying, squeezed to death. Poverty, the feeling of God, seeps from their pores.

People love it. We all eat it up.

Pain, humiliation, real need.

As long as you're lying

About how much it hurts.

People laugh with you.

Laugh at you.

It feels good. Like animals dying for your food.

Like your parents smiling while they're crying inside bc they tried so hard to get you a present.

Suffering feels good to people. Sacrifice of the little people, makes you feel powerful.

Keep that in mind, the next time you pick on someone smaller than you. Someone who has less than you for whatever reason.

And also when you get your face full of "Oh Fuck Me" in not a good way.

That in part, you're working off a bit of what you deserve.

That's why people love slavery. Getting things for free. Having the easy life. They love adrenochrome, they love the feeling of biting into a big, juicy, steak. Love watching torture porn. Dirty girls, gettin' it.

It's our inner rapist, our desire for hunt, our inner killer. I win, you lose. And you'll always lose, because that's what colonization is for. Someone said I always win here. So I get to, and I'll take it from you, bc whose going to stop me?

Have we paid our debts to the indigenous people of the world? No? Well we are all rapists, aren't we.

Were we really mean to someone we're jealous of?

Mean to a little kid looking for kindness?

Mean to an earnest immigrant?

You're a rapist, just like me.

I like to be mean. Say the truth, read your mind. Fuck a dildo and pretend it's your dick.

Curse your love life. Because I want you all to myself.

So don't judge bad people either. Unless you're perfect. And then, we'll all kill you, and call you Jesus. People everywhere want to be Jesus, until it's their turn for the cross. "Give me glory, but no death."

I love you so much Simon. I'll spend the rest of my life making up for things I've done in the past. And then, next time If you fail forever. You can be Delilah, in the bad way. And I'll sit in heaven and just watch.

Support me, I'm crazy and poor

Cashap-halimpark7 venmo HaLim-Park PayPal hapark7 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[readychilledwine]

for the angtsy prompt list — i feel like i’m gonna regret this but #1 and either az or rhys 😭😭😭 preemptively crying bc i know it’s gonna hurt

I picked Rhys 👀 and it... it's gonna hurt, and I'm sorry 😭

Rhysand x reader romance angst drabble from this prompt list

Warnings - mentions of death

Star flecked eyes stared at you in shock and silence. "Tamlin?" You bit your lip, tears beginning to line your eyes as you nodded. Rhys chuckled, leaning back and sipping his drink. "Good one, y/n." 

"Rhys, I'm not kidding. He's my mate. The bond snapped at the High Lord's meeting." Rhys sat a little straighter, eyes narrowing as he looked you over. Anger flashed. Followed by remorse, by pain. "This is fucking rich." You jumped as he slammed the drink down. "What are you going to do?"

You had not thought that far. It was too new, too fresh. "I… I don't know. I haven't thought about it. I'm shocked."

Rhysand's jaw dropped, he looked at you shocked and stunned. "What do you mean you don't know? Do you not remember what he did to me? To our family?"

You remembered vividly. You remembered holding Rhysand as he screamed when they opened those boxes. You remembered holding him after they found the bodies. You remembered vividly. "He took my fucking mother and sister and now he's taking my wife too. This is fucking rich."

You two sat there in silence. Your mind was searching for a way to comfort him. "Tell me how to fix this. Tell me what I need to do." 

You shook your head. "We promised to never lie to each other if it happened to either of us, Rhysand."

Rhys stared straight ahead, eyes locked on the night sky as if those stars would have all the answers. "Tell me it was a lie. Tell me you're playing with me right now. Tell me the bond didn't snap."

You watched his throat flex. Eyes beginning to water. "The twins are packing your things. Annulment papers will arrive in Spring when I have them drawn. Azriel will fly you there."

You nodded, standing and closing your eyes to hide tears. You opened them and turned to walk out. "For what it's worth, Rhys. I wish it was you, I'll always wish it was you. I love you."

His tears fell freely, his hand clenching that glass so tightly he was about to shatter it. "I know. I wish it was me too, y/n. I love you too. Let… let me know if you reject it. If you ever want to come home and come back to me."

-

You'd never have time to tell him you rejected the bond as you were dragged in front of Amarantha, powerless and naked from the previous beating and torture she had administered as your friends from every court watched in silence.

You and Rhys held eye contact. One last silent I love you passing between you two mentally as you then turned to the false queen in defiance. "Would you like to repeat your prophecy one more time, little seer?" She mocked you with fake interest, having refused to believe your words of warning.

You said it one more time, passing hope to every trapped High Lord and fae who knew your prophecies were set in stone and true as wind. "Never to wed, never to breed, you'll rule briefly in selfishness and greed. Never see the break of day. A false queen's body will lay here to rot and decay. She'll sit on a throne, time passing like air, until her end is brought by one more fair."

Her face fell. "Rhysand, shatter her." The room fell into silence. His eyes wide as the mask fell. "Now, pet."

You two held eye contact again. You nodded at him. She's coming, Rhysand, and she will bring you everything you've wanted. One request?

Anything, his voice broke in your mind.

Never forget I love you.

And I love you. I'm so sorry.

"There's no other hands, I'd rather die at than yours, Rhysand. Do it."

[youremyheaven]

hiiii i just started my rahu md moon ad and have been reading that it's absolutely awful across the board and i am nervous as hell 💀 do you have any anecdotes about this period? (i have 1h gemini moon and 10h aquarius rahu) ty <3

I don't think any mahadasha or antardasha has to be more horrible than others?? There are people who die during their Venus dashas yk (I mention Venus specifically bc it's supposed to be the most auspicious dasha)

Ofc how it manifests depends on your placements blah blah but I assure you, no matter what your placements are, if you want to do well in life, you can.

This is not to say that suffering can be avoided. It can't be. Challenges are always going to be a part of life. But there is a life beyond them as well. If you observe yourself during the course of a day, do you notice how many different thoughts, feelings etc cross your mind and how many different experiences you end up having? Dashas are like that, just because a dasha is described as being difficult, it does not mean you'll be in torturous pain every single day until it's over.

Also the idea of "difficult" is very relative and varies from person to person and objectively speaking there is nothing that can't be overcome. There's a guy I went to college with, who is going through his Rahu mahadasha atm and he flunked manyyyy classes and he has to retake and pass all of them to get his degree and then go through other procedures as well. all of this sounds very doable to me. He just has to study and pass exams. But as of this year, he hasn't finished writing his remaining papers 😭😭😭and some of them are from like 2nd year of college, so he's already tried to pass them like 4 times by now 😭😭😭 obviously I know that not everyone is academically gifted yada yada but he is a smart guy (Jyeshta in big 3) and all he has to do is pass (i.e no one's asking him to get an A) but for whatever reason, he's struggling to do so ://// and being a guy in an Indian household, the pressure to earn and look after your family is immense , so all of its taking a toll on him 💀

But like, is he not, the source of his own suffering?? Even if he can't finish this degree, there are a million other ways to make money, so like 😬😬😬

There are people who don't have a quarter of his intellect but are finishing up their Master's OR making bank,,, so if you want to do something, you absolutely can do it.

Again, there can be 9283773 different obstacles in your way and things may not be easy but do not underestimate the sheer power of human will and self belief. Don't hand over your destiny to astrology. The power is in your hands. You can make anything out of yourself.

Blessed be. Amen.

[thepictureofjune]

The Tortured Poets Department of schloss einstein ; the anthology

part 1 here and now we continue except the nitpicking gets more crazy the closer you look.

Enjoy :]

The Black Dog - Ava Eilers (Staffel 27 post 1065)

I am someone who until recent events You shared your secrets with And your location, you forgot to turn it off And so I watch as you walk Into some bar called The Black Dog And pierce new holes in my heart You forgot to turn it off And it hits me I just don't understand how you don't miss me

So Ava revealed that Patrick actually really hurt her and to this day, it still seems to be something that drifts them apart yet Patrick seems like he doesn’t know anything about it, perhaps doesn’t even see it as a big thing. Yet to Ava, this was everything. (written pre 1067 btw)

imgonnagetyouback - Leon und Simon (Staffel 27 post 1066 u 1067)

Whether I'm gonna be your wife or Gonna smash up your bike, I haven't decided yet But I'm gonna get you back Whether I'm gonna curse you out or Take you back to my house, I haven't decidеd yet But I'm gonna get you back I, I hear thе whispers in your eyes I'll make you wanna think twice You'll find that you were never not mine Small talk, big love, act like I don't care what you did I'm an Aston Martin that you steered straight into the ditch Then ran and hid

this is mostly here for shigs and giggles and bcs we got a Limon l-word bomb before we got Nolin so yeah

How did it end? - Noah Temel (Staffel 27) 

And so a touch that was my birthright became foreign Come one, come all It's happenin' again The empathetic hunger descends We'll tell no one Except all of our friends We must know How did it end? (...) Say it once again with feeling How the death rattle breathing Silenced as the soul was leaving The deflation of our dreaming Leaving me bereft and reeling My beloved ghost and me Sitting in a tree D-Y-I-N-G It's happenin' again How did it end? I can't pretend like I understand How did it end?

To me, this is Noah being an outsider in the divorce of his parents, being just a child as his parents kept fighting, kept moving on and throughout all of this, he has no idea why it is happening nor how it came to an end like that.

So High School - Marlon und Nesrin (Staffel 27) 

I feel so high school every time I look at you I wanna find you in a crowd just to hide from you And in a blink of a crinklin' eye I'm sinkin', our fingers entwined Cheeks pink in the twinkling lights Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me (...) Are you gonna marry, kiss or kill me? It's just a game, but really I'm bettin' on all three for us two (...) Truth, dare, spin bottles You know how to ball, I know Aristotle

Don’t think I need to explain this one. 

I Hate It Here - Maxi Zielenski (Staffel 27) 

I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind People need a key to get to, the only one is mine I read about it in a book when I was a precocious child No mid-sized city hopes and small-town fears I'm there most of the year 'cause I hate it here I hate it here Nostalgia is a mind's trick If I'd been there, I'd hate it (...) I'm lonely, but I'm good I'm bitter, but I swear I'm fine I'll save all my romanticism for my inner life  and I'll get lost on purpose

Okay I think we’re all aware that Maxi probably hates every place she is in. Her home felt foreign and now at the school, the only reason she is there in the first place is her grandmothers treasure and it is said that as soon as that’s gone, she wants nothing more than to leave. 

thank you aIMee - Joel Lucas (Staffel 26 u 27)

And then she wrotе headlines In the local paper, laughing at each baby step I'd take And it was always the same searing pain But I prayed that, one day, I could say All that time you were throwin' punches, I was buildin' somethin' And I couldn't wait to show you it was real Screamed, "Fuck you, Aimee" to the night sky as the blood was gushin' But I can't forget the way you made me heal Everyone knows that my mother is a saintly woman But she used to say she wished that you were dead I pushed each boulder up the hill Your words are still just ringing in my head, ringing in my head I built a legacy that you can’t undo

We meet Joel as someone who would rather have success than friends, who doesn’t seem to care for other people but who also is sad whenever things don’t work out for him. Makes you wonder why, no? Why that kid came to the school not caring if he made friends. Why he always felt like an outsider in every social intersection with everyone he ever talked to. How such a kid went from not caring about other people to doing everything he could to keep his best friend. (need to get started on that joel analysis already I have too many thoughts about him)

The Prophecy - Mikka Lund-Mayr (Staffel 26 u 27)

Change the prophecy Don't want money Just someone who wants my company Let it once be me Who do I have to speak to About if they can redo the prophecy? Cards on thе table Mine play out like fools in a fablе Oh, it was sinking in Slow is the quicksand Poison blood from the wound of the pricked hand (...) And I sound like an infant Feeling like the very last drops of an ink pen A greater woman stays cool But I howl like a wolf at the moon And I look unstable Gathered with a coven 'round a sorceress' table A greater woman has faith But even statues crumble if they're made to wait I'm so afraid I sealed my fate No sign of soulmates I'm just a paperweight in shades of greige Spending my last coin so someone will tell me it'll be okay

Mikka is canonically lonely if I may remind you of that. He doesn’t have his best friend anymore and somehow even when he tries to become friends with Reena again, it doesn’t really seem to last all that long (also because the writers literally forgot about him but yeah). All he has is his inventions. 

The Bolter - Simon Reuter (Staffel 27) 

By all accounts, she almost drowned When she was six in frigid water And I can confirm she made A curious child, ever reviled By everyone except her own father With a quite bewitching face Splendidly selfish, charmingly helpless Excellent fun 'til you get to know her Then she runs like it's a race Behind her back, her best mates laughed And they nicknamed her "The Bolter" (...) She's been many places with Men of many faces First, they're off to the races And she's laughing, drawin' aces But none of it is changin' That the chariot is waitin' Hearts are hers for the breakin' There's escape in escaping

Simon is wasted potential on all accounts because you’re really going to tell me he is proud and fine and happy with all the trophies he wins? That there isn’t mayhaps the need to always succeed because it’s what is expected of him? And he seems like he likes every girl at the entire school but cannot pull any of them simply because? Not because maybe he is trying to find the one that makes sense, the one girl that maybe makes him feel a little better about himself, because love is supposed to reveal our true selves and Simon has always been someone else his entire life? 

(i’m trying to give him the depth that the writers failed to bcs wdym he is just some guy who likes sports and girls?) (update nach 1066: nvm I think they really just gonna leave him with being everyones no.1 nuisance)

Robin - Chiara Dorn (Staffel 24 und alle danach eig auch)

Buried down deep And out of your reach The secret we all vowed To keep it from you in sweetness (...) You got the dragonflies above your bed You have a favorite spot on the swing set You have no room in your dreams for regrets The time will arrive for the cruel and the mean You'll learn to bounce back just like your trampoline But now we'll curtail your curiosity In sweetness

This song references a lot of childish demeanor or behavior that is only known for children, trying to keep the illusion of innocence alive for someone who is too sweet to learn about all the cruelties of the world. For me, this is Chiara.

And we're done. (and now we can get back to over-analyzing kids that aren't actually sad but could very well be!)

— june🪐

[mer-acle]

Alright, since I'm super active on AO3 again recently I thought I might as well do a breakdown of my work :)

My current fandoms are Marvel (MCU) and EPIC the Musical

The characters you are almost certain to meet are Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow), Clint Barton (Hawkeye) and Athena (Goddess of Wisdom)

Okay let's have a breakdown (epic people you'll have to scroll)

The Spy and the Assassin

This is a series about the backstory of Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton, starting from childhood and catching up directly to Iron Man 2.

This is the most "inspired by visual media" of my works. Parts of it is written in Script form and the chapters are meant to be 25 minute episodes of a TV show that would run for three seasons.

It's MCU phase one compliant and takes some inspiration from the Avengers Assemble TV show canon (mainly for Clint's backstory)

Good for: People who like Phase 1 best, and who wished for a more comprehensive Black Widow origin (this is 500k words type comprehensive)

Coming back for you

What about another Black Widow origin, but Phase 2 compliant this time?

When writing The Spy and the Assassin, I did my best to adhere to the superhero genre, so you could feasibly believe this was a true prequel

For this one, I took more liberties, and focused more on hurt/comfort.

Laura and Cooper are in this, and so is a Budapest scene bc how couldn't I?

Again, technically Phase 2 compliant if you tweak the timeline just a little, but still no Black Widow (2021) to be found.

Good for: People who enjoy hurt and comfort with a focus on recovery and healing. People who like Laura Barton XD

One I will break, the others I will tear apart

Technically a sequel to The Spy and the Assassin, but stands on its own.

In about 2014, Steve, Tony, Clint and Natasha are kidnapped and imprisoned by a smug and sadistic asshole named Victor.

His plan: Torture one of them, watch the others break apart from guilt and anguish. And he chooses the one who has already endured more pain than anyone ever should to be his sacrificial lamb.

This is unapologetic Nat Whump. Like, there is intense physical and psychological torture in this. Nobody except Victor is having a good time.

(This is my favorite fic I've ever written)

Good for: People who like their whump and like it brutal. People who agree with me that Nat is the best avenger

The time they broke me

A retelling from Natasha to the team of what happened in The Spy and the Assassin. That's it. People enjoyed it for some reason lol.

Good for: People who want a Natasha backstory but want to know how the Avengers would react.

The Avengers Scenes

A series of deleted/extended scenes for the MCU. (Yes Natasha is in all of them)

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

Okay Epic friends, now for you

All of my epic fanfic is gathered in the Warriors of the Mind series, but I'll introduce you to the episodes.

In general, I know what you are like, those of you who liked the Wisdom saga will probably read anything with Athena in it atm

The Reunion Trilogy

(Work 1-3)

After the Events of God Games, Athena's first meetings with Odysseus, Telemachus and Penelope respectively.

Light h/c and lots of cute moments

Hermes presents: God Games

(Work 4)

Hermes explains our favorite wet man Odysseus what went down during God Games, things are appropriately chaotic.

Later, Athena receives a prayer

You can go home now

(Work 5)

Athena goes to free Odysseus instead of Hermes. H/C ensues cos guess what she's injured actually

Has two separate endings, one with Hermes and one with Apollo.

The one who makes her kingdom fall

(Work 6)

What happened on Olympus after God Games. How did the players treat their injured sister afterward.

Apollo, who always wanted a relationship with her

Hephaestus, who has known her the longest

Aphrodite, who has seen a different side to her

Ares, who deep down knows he never hated her

And Hera, who starts to believe she's done wrong by her

And all concludes with a crazy divine council meeting.

Goddess and Man

(Work 7)

A reflection by Athena on the times Odysseus called her "Thea"... And how she starts to think he didn't mean "goddess", but something more endearing.

Athena deals with feels. In the end she gets to confront them in person.

Ichor is not meant to fall like rain

(Work 8)

Athena meets her father for the first time after God Games. It's... Complicated.

Note: Winged Athena

Still watching over you

(Work 9)

A thunderstorm hits Ithaca. Both Athena and Odysseus may have some PTSD about that type of thing.

Also honorable mention of the absolute legend that is Eurycleia.

Fighting to be loved

(Work 10, in progress)

Athena is pretty badly hurt. The royal family of Ithaca tries their best to help her.

(FW this is whumpy as all hell)

A warrior's refusal

(Work 11)

Odysseus has decided not to go to war. Now he just has to tell Athena...

[oh-my-wolfstar]

Taylor Swift Wolfstar songs day 16

yesterday’s song (because yes, I forgot) is Blank Space. It is pov Sirius.

I could show you incredible things Magic, madness, heaven, sin Saw you there and I thought "Oh, my God, look at that face You look like my next mistake Love's a game, wanna play?

Sirius could show Remus a million crazy new things if they were together. Sirius new he had to have Remus from just one look and in tradition risk taking fashion he is running head first into this.

I can read you like a magazine Ain't it funny? Rumors fly And I know you heard about me So hey, let's be friends I'm dying to see how this one ends

Sirius has been friends with Remus so long that he can read his face like a book. And he knows Remus has heard things about Sirius and his past relationships; and sure, they could just be friends but Sirius has to know what would happen if they were more

So it's gonna be forever Or it's gonna go down in flames You can tell me when it's over, mm If the high was worth the pain Remus and Sirius are a gamble; they’re so similar but so different. They fight and love fierce. Together they could be forever or they could burn them selves down. But Sirius is willing to burn for Remus.

Got a long list of ex-lovers They'll tell you I'm insane But I've got a blank space, baby And I'll write your name

Sirius has a lot of ex’s and they will all say he’s crazy ( although no one can resist the beautiful Sirius Black for long). But Sirius loves people who will break his heart, and damn if Remus doesn’t fit the bill.

Cause we're young, and we're reckless We'll take this way too far It'll leave you breathless, mm Or with a nasty scar They are young and stupid and they will definitely push each other to the limits. But it will end in love or with pain and there’s only one way to find out.

Stolen kisses, pretty lies You're the King, baby, I'm your Queen Find out what you want Be that girl for a month Wait, the worst is yet to come

Sirius will be whatever Remus wants if it means he can have him.

Keep you second guessing like "Oh, my God, who is she?" I get drunk on jealousy But you'll come back each time you leave 'Cause, darling, I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream

Sirius knows he will be crazy jealous of anyone who wants Remus and Remus will be jealous of all of Sirius’s ex’s but they are jealous anyway. And Remus knows that Sirius is risky but he’s also a dream.

Boys only want love if it's torture Don't say I didn't, say I didn't warn ya

Sirius only wants people who you could break him and Remus knows that all too well.

Thank you for reading! I had a lot going on yesterday so I forgot, lol. I decided to do Sirius’s pov bc I felt like I was doing a lot of Remus but todays pov is going to be Remus again so… also, today will be a sad one so bring the tissues!

[soaps-mohawk]

first of all. i’m sorry about my error english it’s not my first language dhdjsjsk. 😭😭💀

thanks god my theory was right about dr.keller wasn’t the betrayer!! it was kinda sus for me that you gave that tennis shoes detail twice i meant if it was really her it’d be too obvious lol so that cliffhanger didn’t work on me lmfaoo☝🏼🤪

and that mf who kidnapped our ‘mega was he your oc? bc i only saw one character who has the same surname but she was a woman (or i missed smth?) so i doubt it.

imo graves is still in my row that he’d be one of megas family bc mega know his scent well and it reminded to her mom stuff, but i dont think he’d be their father nor brother idk bc graves is in his 40s (reboot) so he couldn’t be ‘mega’s dad or even big brother so he might be their uncle..? or if it wasn’t like i said hmm maybe he was just an a$$h0e who pretend to get close to mega for his mission some kind of that lmfao you torture me i can’t wait for the next week and see our boys reaction. someoneneed to prepare a gold coin for charon ahrhrhrhrh

thank you very very much for ur hard work on this story i praise and love ur work with all my life !! tysm for made my day better! and pls take care of yourself ! I LOVE YOU RORY *SENDING ALL HUGS TO YOU* 🤍🤍🤍

and btw this is me every day waiting for the next sunday :

Nah I wouldn't do that to my queen. I was giving everyone a red herring for the drama and suspense lol. Gotta keep everyone on their toes somehow. Glad you saw past my cliffhanger!!! 😂

Yes!! He was a side character that I made up that was first seen in...chapter 4? Chapter 5? The chapter when 'mega punches Corporal Allen.

As far as Graves...you'll see 🤭 everything will be revealed in the next chapter, don't worry.

Aww thank you!!! I'm glad you've been enjoying my story and the pain!!

And don't worry about it, your English is fine!!! 💚💚

[mtsuzuka]

talk about zevran

...do you really want to open that can of worms

Anyways yes I'll gladly talk about Zevran Arainai from the hit game Dragon Age Origins

Essentially he was born into a brothel, his mom died during childbirth (more on this later), and all the other women treated him like shit for legit no reason but uh yeah he was sold by those women to this assassins group called the crows and basically tortured into being someone who could withstand pain and kill indiscriminately and efficiently.

He fell in love with both of his closest friends (Rinna and Taliesen, I need to say their names just in case I bring them up again but yay poly rep) and Rinna ended up wanting to escape the life of the crows, and they made Zevran kill her for it even though he didn't want to. He hates the crows but it's the only life he really ever knew, they dictated his life and choices because it was "do this or you'll die, or we'll kill your friends!"

And then he finally gets his mark/target on the remaining grey wardens (main character/s) because he's been hired by the antagonist, and Zevran KNOWS he isn't good enough at assassinating to actually kill the wardens. He takes this job with the intent of getting himself killed because he wants to escape this life so badly. I guess I should mention now that Zevran isn't really skilled in actual killing and usually uses deceit like poisoning or charming people in order to kill them. Anywho

You have the choice to spare him after you beat his ass and his romance is really nice, he really has such a warped concept of love because he was never allowed to love really or make any of his own choices and he's absolutely terrified of any commitment bc of what happened when he last felt committed to someone. Oh did I mention he also uses horrible innuendos and flirts all the time in order to get people off his back. I'm yapping so much IM SORRY

But ok there's this woman named Wynne she's like a grandma and they have this banter where she inquires as to whether or not he feels guilty about his line of work and he immediately goes to flirting with her until she gives up and stops asking him questions it's just so. You are such a traumatized man and I love you so much.

Oh and also you have to end up killing the other man he loved bc he comes back to bring Zevran back to the crows and afterwards you can talk to him and he'll give you his earring 🥺 but if you ask him if it's a proposal he'll get mad 😭😭 then come back later and say "well. If you want it to be a proposal then sure it can be that."

MY FINAL NOTES: I love zevran so much because he is a character whose whole story is about rediscovering his autonomy and that yes, he too can choose his own life ❤️

And here's some obligatory zev images about his ending and jst other random shit he says

[piastrinorris]

how would older!tom grant react to you just randomly biting his big, beefy bicep?? like maybe you’re a bit sloshed and the urges™ are just too strong to resist, so you just…

like you don’t sink your teeth in enough to truly hurt or to draw blood, just enough to satisfy the urges™.

what’s his reaction???

ik, in canon, ruth bites into like his pec and he’s just like “oh??? … erm, ok.” and accepts his fate, but like… what’s older!tom grant’s reaction??? what’s his response to you randomly sinking your teeth into his beefy bicep??

(prior to seeing jq in that clip from hoard, i would’ve never considered myself a bitey kind of person… but here we are)

oooooh i have the PERFECT mental scenario in my head for this!!

okay so let's say it's been a friend's birthday, or a friend is leaving town, or it's a big work event. for whatever reason, you two went out for dinner with a big group of people, and even though you didn't drink loads, the couple of drinks you did have definitely hit you quicker than they would have when you were in your 20s. not enough to go off the rails or anything, but you're both definitely a little buzzed from it. (this is important, i prommy)

anyway, when you get back home, you guys slip into your usual night-time routine. tom gets in the shower first while you're doing your thing (maybe you're the sort of person who likes to get dolled up so you're taking all your accessories off, maybe you're more chilled w your appearance but you go around making sure the flat isn't a total bombsite once you wake up with an inevitable headache, whatever it is you do), and while you're in the shower, tom does his thing of getting into his singlet + undies (specifically YOUR fave visual there cass heheh), making sure you've got a fresh bottle of water beside your bed for the night, and settling in himself to scroll through reddit or whatever

you go and join him in bed and obv you wanna cuddle up to him bc a) he's tom and b) maybe you get a little extra affection-needy when you've been drinking. however, i think tom's the kind of drunk who literally cannot multi-task to save his life. he'll do whatever you want, but it has to be a "right, we're doing this now, let's go" kinda thing or else he'll just space out. so you're sat in the bed waiting for him to realise and at least put his arm around you while he reads, but he's too engrossed. (again, not ignoring you deliberately, he's just a lil dopey, bless him) you poke him in the arm, and he makes a weird sound but still remains scrolling through his phone. and so, with the last remnants of the night's alcohol taking your inhibitions away, you lean down and just press your teeth into his bicep. not a full on chomp, nothing painful, just enough so that he definitely feels teeth digging into him.

so he looks over with a Classic Tommy G Look™ like:

and you just look up at him, mouth still on his arm, and he just starts laughing, "what are you doing there, you wazzock?"

(wazzock is a term used in the general midlands dialect as an alternative word for like. idiot, silly goose, etc. there's a specific dialect where tom's canonically from, though, if you want to look up the sort of things he'd say, here's some good examples + i'm more than happy to try and help navigate what some words and phrases mean/are supposed to sound like lol)

anyway, you explain that he wasn't listening to you so Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures and he laughs it off with you and wraps his arm around you for the night

except as time goes on, you start realising that actually, even though you've only done it the once, you miss the feeling of biting tom's arm. it doesn't help when the weather gets warmer so he's wearing tank tops and short sleeves all the time and just... putting them on display, it's torture. so any time you're running on autopilot, or you just really need to do something impulsive, you'll go up to him and bite his arm. at first it still takes him by surprise a lot and makes him laugh, but eventually, he just sort of looks at you like, "y'alright?" and you'll just nod and he'll nod back and carry on doing whatever he's doing

besides, he totally gets you back for it when you guys are getting intimate. he doesn't bite anywhere that'll be super obvious, you're not teenagers leaving hickies on each others' necks, but he'll leave a nice little toothy bruise on your inner thigh, or just beneath your breast, or on your hip. just so that whenever you catch a glimpse of yourself in the shower or whatever, you're reminded that he can bite back, too 😌

[fexalted]

I'd love to hear about "go - and you and i" & "st - the balancing of the sun"!!!

wip title ask meme

(didn't get to this earlier bc i have been taking some ill-advised naps and remaining comatose for hours on end, so thank you for your patience sgdnshfks)

and you and i: so, in my mind i wanted this to be a fic about the ways aziraphale and crowley love each other and how it physically (and perhaps metaphysically) feels different for both of them. but apparently i spent too much time writing it in my head and not enough writing it in the actual file, bc i only have like two scenes and a handful of random sentences lmao (don't be like me) also as a fun fact: the title comes from the Yes song of the same name! absolutely gorgeous track, the lyrics never once mention the word "love," but it has so much love pouring out of it that it doesn't need to

here's one bit of it, feat. aziraphale and grief (don't worry crowley's not dead or anything, they just had a falling out):

You throw yourself into work, taking on as many assignments from Heaven as you can, and running the bookshop in between. In the off hours you catalogue and reorganize and repair anything that needs it. It helps, you think, to have distractions, things to push that all-encompassing grief out of the way so you can breathe again. No time for frivolous things like theaters or bakeries or rereading your favorite poetry collection for the hundredth time. No time to think about anything that might remind you of Crowley.

And it works, to a point. It gets easier to not think about him.

But it always catches up to you, often when you least expect it.

You'll be sitting at your desk, ready to take up the task of rebinding a book, not thinking much about anything at all. And then you'll blink and all at once your vision will have gone completely cloudy, and another blink will have tears flooding uncontrollably from your eyes, and you'll push your chair back quickly to avoid any droplets falling on the book, and fumble to press a handkerchief to your face as you're overtaken by heaving sobs.

And so you'll remain for a length of time that could be anywhere between minutes or days but feels like a century—but it hasn't even been a century, and you've been apart much longer than that before anyway so why does it still hurt so much—

After that time has passed, you'll pick yourself up, and wipe off your face. You'll take the damaged book in hand, closing it carefully and delicately, once more hiding the inscription that Crowley had written on the inside cover when he gave it to you. And you'll put that book away, not back to its rightful shelf, but tucked away far out of sight but never quite out of mind, with all the other things you can't bring yourself to look at anymore.

And then you'll go back to work.

---

the balancing of the sun: this is the mccoy-centric sfs fic i've shared some of before! title comes from the song "on the silent wings of freedom" by Yes. admittedly the chaotic instrumentation does not fit the fic's vibe at all, but the lyrics bro..... "on the darkest night so painful / do you hunger for love / midst the torture of being one" like!!! i'm out of my mind about it

anyway i hadn't made much progress in several months but i went in and finally nailed down the opening paragraphs just for you 😘:

The worst part of this whole mess, in your opinion, isn't that Spock stuck his katra in your head. It was disorienting as hell, of course, to suddenly feel a disconnect from your thoughts and actions, like they were no longer entirely yours. Going from having complete control one moment, to feeling like a mere passenger in your own body the next is not an experience you'd recommend. But to tell the truth—though you'd be hard pressed to ever admit it aloud—there was something... relieving, almost calming, about finding out it was Spock's presence in your head. You may wish he'd had the decency to ask first, or at least would've given you a heads-up beforehand, but no, having Spock in your mind isn't the worst part.

And it's not the subtle but all too noticeable way your friends look at you now, like it's not really you they're seeing. How when words come out of your mouth in a different tone and cadence, you can see it in their faces, somewhere between hope and heartbreak, before you're even aware of what you'd said or how you'd said it.

Nor is it this fool-headed mission to Genesis you're all on now, however guilty you may feel for having gotten them roped into this, however much you might wish you'd been successful in chartering a flight out there alone. They broke you out of holding for this, they stole the Enterprise for this, they're putting their lives and careers on the line for this, because of you. The danger of it all aside, you're already dreading the court martial awaiting each of you if you make it back to Earth in one piece.

No, the worst part, you think, is what it will mean to succeed. To recover Spock's body from Genesis, bring him home to Vulcan, and lay him to rest—body and soul.

Because to do so will mean losing him all over again.

[pagodazz]

hi so first off i want to say as a fellow vinny fan seeing your vinnyposting has been amazing, hes so underrated its great to see someone appreciate him!! and secondly i wanted to ask if you could elaborate on the tag on your post where you said 'habit is a manifestation of vinnys bad habits' it sounds like a cool perspective and im curious what makes you think that.. sounds very smart and i'd love to hear more. no pressure though!! love your posts ❤️❤️❤️

HIIIIII HII IM SO GLAD YOU ENJOY THE VINNY POSTING!!

and I'm so glad you asked about this.

Habit and Vinny's relationship is so complicated, there's so many layers in figuring out what REALLY is happening between the two. Habit isn't just controlling Vinny, Vinny is giving into habit, feeding into him, continuously letting him back into his life even though all habit does is HURT.

And to me it for some reason, it just makes sense. Habit is the thing thats taking all of Vinny's friends away, but it's Vinny's OWN ACTIONS that pushes his friends to death. Though what's happening is out of his hands, he's the indirect cause of it all.

And I think that when people have such strong addictions or "bad habits" so to speak, they can drive their friends away.

Or your own friends have lost themselves to their own bad habits that you can't help but fall victim to your own.

it's so many things all at once, but habit is this sick venom that's filling Vinny's veins and hes constantly aching for it. When habit isnt there he can't help but miss him almost, but when habits around he wants nothing more than to be away from him.

Take it like a cigarette, smoking is a bad habit.

You'll light a cigarette and say, "I should really quit. this isn't healthy for me."

but then you're out and suddenly all you need is ONE cigarette to even get through your day.

Habit was something that was a constant in Vinny's life, something solid to grab onto. A stabilizer almost?

anyways,

Vinny's bad habits include so many things, but I think his BIGGEST, is his need for pain.

He craves to be hurt, to feel something, he wants to induce more pain so there's more to feel and if there's more to feel there's more for the viewers to watch and that means more eyes on him.

And we could bring in what Jeff says in twenty-four months, "Please stop watching us."

it all circles around to the camera and Vinny being the voyeur, yk? That sick twisted sense of justice he gets from showing the world the truth.

and I hate to drag this on more BUT!!!!!

to bring another quote again, this time from the everyman play:

"The Voyeur shall watch from an emotional distance, insisting upon maintaining their strength."

and that's exactly what Vinny, he was so focused on keeping everything strong and not letting anything affect him that he let his bad habits consume and now he spends his life being tortured by the decisions he made, haunted by the memories.

The being of habit keeps Vinny around, he's important to the final plan, he'll wring Vinny dry so the only thing Vinny CAN do is comply with him.

the same way a bad habit can consume a person whole, (Jeff) ending their life, It can make you violent and tear your life apart (Evan), And it can cloud your brain, making you think that all you need in life is your one bad habit and thank god for that habit. (Vinny)

I HOPE WHAT I SAID MAKES SENSE????? I could be speaking totally gibberish rn bc it's my first time actually talking about this. But if anything is confusing or something I will be so happy to talk more about the characters :D!!!!!!!

[offsidekineticist]

This probably should have been 2 chapters, but while I think the first part could be fleshed out into chapter length with a different POV, I'm less confident about the second, arguably much more important part. Also I'm impatient and want to share this bc being like "I can't mention this thing about my blorbos cuz it's a spoiler for my fic" sucks.

CW: gore, blood, burning, exhausted/traumatized character having difficulty communicating, character being possessed and corresponding loss of bodily control, mentions of torture in folklore (implied sexual), Sleeping Beauty (Disney) style dubcon

For the Velstrac

The sun hurts. Your eyes squeeze shut by themselves. You try to stop them because you can't sleep, but the sun hurts so they do what they want. The air is warmer than in your cell, but it moves more, which helps with the sleepiness. it smells like dew, instead of must and excrement and blood.

It's nice. The only problem is that it's loud. There's shouting and the clanging of metal weapons and screams and the roar of flames–

Your eyes slowly adjust to the glaring light. The hole leading to the tunnel into Rivad is just behind you. In front of you is a vast camp of soldiers–mostly paladins, if you had to guess–presently in a state of chaos because the dinosaur shaped collection of artifacts that dug your escape route is rampaging through their camp and growing as magical weapons and armor fly in a flurry towards it. Soldiers are desperately trying to stand their ground as their weapons, tabards, protective amulets, or even their very armor are pulled into the beast to sate its appetite. Others–poorer soldiers, judging by their shabby armor–rush through the camp, movement uninhibited by the golem's call, trying to help their fellows.

A paladin in shining holy armor loses grip on the tentpole he used to steady himself. He flies towards the golem, and you watch his armor almost explode with blood and viscera as it twists and compresses to fit into the bizarre three dimensional puzzle circling through the camp.

"Shit–we have to stop it!" Qweck says, voice pitched high with conviction, and you feel a twinge of pride along with your exasperation. Qweck, so concerned about others–but she is hurt. She's doing her best to hide it, but you can see the bruising on her neck, can hear the strain in her voice. She's been brave–so incredibly brave–but it needs to stop. You need to get her home. She needs a healer. 

"How?!" Giliys demands from just behind you, and you wince at how loud he is.

"You mean you activated some kind of artifact eating golem of doom without knowing how to turn it off?!" Qweck demands, and you can tell she is losing her grip on her self-control by how her ears are twitching–they only do that when she's really angry. 

"Not like it came with a fucking instruction manual!" Gilly snaps. Qweck closes her eyes and takes a deep, long breath before opening her eyes and speaking.

"Get Theo to the ship as we planned. I'm going to stay and help."

"Are you fucking crazy?" Giliys demands as Qweck steps towards him, your arm still slung over her shoulder. "Look at that thing! It just headbutt a tunnel through solid fucking rock! What the fuck do you think you'll be able to do?"

"Heal the wounded, for one," she snaps, passing your arm to Giliys so she can run healing into danger, still injured herself. You grab her shoulder, ignoring the pain in your broken fingers as you do.

"No," you say as sternly as you can manage with a voice worn raw by screaming. "Qweck, you're–your neck–I can hear–you need a healer."

"She needs a healer? Fuck that, Thay, you need a healer–which is why you're here in the first place!" Giliys says, rebuking first you and then Qweck. "You wanna put this guy on a ship without a healer? In his condition? That's a fucking death sentence!"

Qweck's mask is perfect, the very image of Irorian calm–but her ears are still twitching. "Then find Vrakka and have her go with you." Vrakka–the druid girl? But she–Brastlewark must be hundreds of miles off. 

"Find Vra–sorry, Princess, my bird calls are rusty. Did you miss the part where the bitch flew away?"

"No," you interrupt, because Vrakka is not the point and neither are bird calls. "No, it's not–I'm not–the ship isn't–if you're staying–I have to–I mean it's my job to–you need to be safe. I need you to be safe."

"You hear that?," Giliys says. "Thay needs you to be safe. Now let's fucking go before the altar boys catch us."

Qweck ignores Giliys and puts both hands on your shoulders. "You've done your job, and you've done it well," she says, eyes locked with yours. "Now I have to do mine." She shrugs off your grip on her shoulder as she lets go of yours and plunges into the chaos of the camp. 

"Qweck! No!" You call, arm reaching uselessly towards her. She's gone. She's gone and she's hurt and she's–

"Fuck–what the fuck are we supposed to do now?!" Giliys howls, enraged.

"Help me help her," you rasp.

"Yeah, right. What are you gonna do, fall on it?"

"Giliys please!" A lump is forming in your throat making it even harder to talk than it already I'd. "She–she is–she's–please."

Giliys closes his eyes, a look of resigned exasperation on his face. "Fuck. Why'd you have to go and say please? Fine." He begins dragging you with him towards the camp. 

"Thank you."

"Don't fucking thank me! I'm dragging you to your fucking death!" He spits on what probably used to be a paladin as you pass and enter the camp.

"Don't need–it's ok to–you can't–be nice."

"Be nice?!" 

No, 'be nice' wasn't what you meant. You meant that he didn't have to pretend to be cruel, that you saw through it. But you're exhausted, and words are hard, and you've barely the strength to use them, so instead you just repeat "thank you."

Giliys grunts. "Not like I can put you on a boat until a healer sees you anyway. What the hell, why don't we just go out in a blaze of glory trying to save a bunch of altar boys from a fucking dinosaur? Not like I got anything else scheduled for fucking ev–kch!"

It happens so quickly you're not sure how it happens. One second you're leaning on Giliys as he gripes about helping Qweck. The next there's an enormous blade poking through Giliys's chest, pulling him–and you–towards the golem.

"Gilly? Gilly!"

He stares at the blade in his chest, his feet–and yours–dragging across the ground. "Shit," he wheezes. "Can't–can't hold it–Thay, run."

"Can't hold whah–"

Giliys pushes you away. You fall. Fire explodes from his wound. You cover your face, curling into a ball to protect yourself from the fire. A strange, inhuman laughter fills the air.

"FINALLY!" You peek through your fingers up at Giliys. He is floating a foot off the ground. He holds the blade with his bare hands and pulls. Out comes the sword, the hilt soaked in blood as it crashes through his chest, tearing the wound even wider and leaving behind a gaping hole, gushing with blood and fire.

You're not supposed to take the weapon out of a stab wound if you can help it. That makes the victim bleed out faster. You reach out and grab the weapon as it flies towards the golem. It drags you a few feet until you manage to toss your open bag in its path. The sword flies into the bag, and the bag goes still as its anti scrying spells hide the sword from the golem's hunger.

There. Now you can put the sword back in Giliys's chest once he stops floating.

(You really are exhausted)

You're able to push yourself to your knees and look up. The hole in his chest is closing–or you think it is. Less fire and blood seems to bleed from it with each passing second until the hole is closed. His eyes light up with flame as he holds up and examines flaming hands.

"YES. THIS WILL DO NICELY. NOW BURN."

Streams of flame fly from Giliys's hands, devouring soldier after soldier after soldier. It's no normal flame–it leaves tent and banner and wood untouched, but consumes flesh and blood. Whatever has taken control of Giliys is cackling in perverse joy.

Your eyes scan the scene wildly looking for someplace to hide, some way to escape–you know the moment it looks down, you're doomed. Movement and a flash of green catch your eye. Qweck, about twenty feet behind where Giliys stood when he was impaled, sheltering behind a rack of spears and shields.

Qweck is here.

Oh, gods, Qweck is here.

You need to stop this now. You don't have time to retreat and regroup, Qweck is right there, and the second that thing sees her, she will burn. You need to bring Giliys back to himself, because even if he can be killed like this (probably not), even if you were physically able to kill him (certainly not), you know you'd never be able to bring yourself to do it because of your damn fool, treacherous, everbreaking heart.

Wait.

"For the Velstrac," you whisper to yourself in realization. A poem written by an unknown Nidalese Desnan, the finale to a collection of poems written by the narrator (the Lover) about the person they loved (the Beloved). The last poem is the most famous–and the saddest. The Beloved, damned to the Plane of Shadows by Zon-Kuthon's hold over Nidal, becomes the Velstrac, eager to torture the Lover with sadistic parodies of their former love. And yet, whereas most poems in the collection carry an underlying tone of fear or anxiety over Zon-Kuthon's hold over the Lover and the Beloved's souls, "For the Velstrac" ends with hope.

For with each kiss thy eyes have brighter seem'd

So by my pain I shall see thee redeem'd.

It would seem absurd to you if you were in your right mind. But you are exhausted and hurt and afraid and bound to protect Qweck, so you grasp at ideas with the clumsiness of a child, push yourself to your feet, and pull Giliys down out of the air to be saved by True Love's Kiss.

It's a terrible first kiss. Truth be told, you don't find the act of kissing itself particularly appealing. Your enjoyment of that and more intimate acts has always come from seeing your partner's ecstasy and knowing you caused it–the satisfaction of having done well, of being such a good partner that he has devolved into a lesser state of coherence. But Giliys himself is unable to react, and his body, still floating off the ground, puppeted by an unknown power, reacts with violence, his arms flailing unnaturally, twisting out of joint. His body is hot to the touch, and your lips are screaming at you to withdraw. But slowly, painfully slowly, the heat fades. The flailing stops. You feel Giliys sink downward onto his feet, and then collapse in a heap. You do not let go of his shirt in time. You fall with him, aching and exhausted, lips burning from this cruel mockery of what you've wanted for years.

You're too exhausted to move. You're sprawled on top of him, but you're too exhausted to move. Your ear is pressed against his chest, and you can hear his heartbeat–at first racing, but slowing in time to a gentle, steady pace that promises safety and carries you to sleep.

[strdstd-m]

what acts of service would your muse appreciate the most? // where could someone touch your muse to calm them down? // what is one compliment your muse is dying to hear? For blade and yingxing!

Headcanons based on the 5 love languages ★ @kanawolf ★ Accepting

what acts of service would your muse appreciate the most?

{Blade: Helping him with things that'd prove challenging with his limited finger dexterity (even tho he'd be resistant at first), preparing painkilling remedies for him in advance, overall just being patient with him, bc he's going through A Lot & his mind's usually quite muddled & fragmented. He does tend to forget things and/or misremember things.

Yingxing: Cleaning up his work space, bc when this man gets in the zone, his area is a whirlwind of a mess. Testing out new weapons he'd made & giving feedback. Standing up for him when he's not there when others talk down about him/his creations.}

where could someone touch your muse to calm them down?

{Blade: Now this is difficult, bc Blade's like a feral cat when it comes to touch, he's very touch-sensitive (even over his clothes), so if someone touches him without warning, expect him to growl out a warning of his own while being visible tense. But as far where would be comforting, it'd be someone running their fingers through his hair with his head in their lap. Esp if it's after a mara flare up, bc those cause a rough crash afterwards.

Yingxing: Holding his hands, both of them preferably. Just brushing the skin with their fingers, feeling all the small nicks and faint scars. He finds it comforting, and a good way to calm him either when he's too excited or having his rare moments of being down.}

what is one compliment your muse is dying to hear?

{Blade: Not necessarily a compliment, but that he's allowed to want to live and that he deserves life/peace/rest. A mind mangled by mara, body struck by phantom pains from previous torture as well as a self-healing ability that causes agony while healing, afflicted by immortality? Yeah... it's a lot. He's EXHAUSTED, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. So just, someone getting through to him enough (which will already take a lot of work) that he realizes life is worth living & his life doesn't have to be dictated by vengeance... It'd be quite the realization to him.}

Yingxing: Just... even tho he is very arrogant and a little too eager to boast about his creations... hearing he is truly a good craftsman & overall that his work isn't worth less bc of him being a short-life species. That he is making his mark on the world. Hearing either said genuinely and honestly will mean the world to him. Yes, he's used to his work being praised (mostly just by the High Cloud Quintet), but he's also used to his work & even he himself being criticized and looked down upon solely, & his work being undervalued in favor of those created by long-life species, all bc he is short-life. Which has moments of hitting harder than expected. So hearing he really is doing a good job? OOF- He's poured his lifelong efforts into this weapons-crafting endeavor, after all. You'll get a more genuine, softer smile from him, instead of a toothy smirk. Maybe a rare moment of him being shy, too.}

[commanderquinn]

Good Space Chapter 5: Stuck In The Middle With You

! i dont! keep these posts! updated! like i do! ao3!

that means you're going to find typos and shit (and possibly minor detail changes) that don't match the ao3 version! that's because im not going to bother fixing the tumblr posts until i finish good space as a whole. im only uploading them here as a backup tbh

—

master list / ao3 chapter link

—

consistent formatting? nah. in this house we believe in Convenient Formatting 🙏 rapid fire and no flashbacks again (when they start to get Super Painful later on you’ll mourn the days when i skipped them for extra fluff) we’re Zeroed In on the nerds for another hot minute. this is what happens when you get hooked on a fic by an idiot that’s more inspired by screenwriters than authors, srry ❤️

also this chapter (and probably quite a few throughout this fic) is specifically for the babes that have had to pick themselves up from the dirt after a romantic crash. i cannot tailor this in a vague way that lets anyone picking this up have their own catharsis here, right? mega impossible to one size fits all that. but what i CAN do is use the bundle of greek myth references that is ava’s concept to tell a story about regaining personal power after a total shitass tricks you into thinking youre not completely bitchin as you are ❤️

and i guess make a bunch of canadian jokes bc those are really funny to me tbh. thank you donnatella moss for the inspiration. the best accidental moose canada ever had

anyways. sit. get comfy 😌 think of the ex you reallyreallyreally wanna stab 🥰 and then go project that exact motherfucker onto alec ❤️

—

"Put it on."

"No."

"Put. It. On."

"Nope."

"It's going to look good on you."

Bucky flicks his eyes up from the news article open on his tablet. "Yes, it would."

"Great. Your head is still gigantic post-defrosting. Good thing the one I picked comes with buttons. Leave three of them undone—"

"I know how many to leave undone." That was a misstep. He knows it the second the words leave his mouth. She's going to use it as if it's compliance. It isn't.

"And I'm sure you remember how to get your arms through the holes, too. So, let's go." Natasha repeatedly taps her hand on the kitchen table, making her rings knock against the aged wood. "Make with the wardrobe change."

"I'm not wearing that, and I'm sure as hell not going anywhere," he counters blandly.

"Yes, you are. Get up."

"Eat dirt, Romanoff. I have this thing called a will of my o—"

"So, you don't want to go?"

"Correct."

"Nothing could convince you to change your mind?"

"Absolutely not."

"Who do you think is going to be more disappointed when I repeat that at the bar, Wyatt or Ava?"

Bucky's eyes close slowly. Gently. The movement is a stark contrast to the anger swirling in him, the majority of which is aimed at himself, not the Russian seeking to ruin his life. This was so easy to spot coming. So easy. And he walked right into it.

"Have you given—" Steve attempts around a mouthful of food, cutting off when Natasha hits him in the back of the head to make him stop. He takes a moment to wash down the Coco Puffs with a gulp of fresh coffee after that. "Have you given Wyatt an autograph yet? I gave him one. Super nice guy, you'll like him."

"Why is the brain trust suddenly invited to a night out?" Bucky demands. This is a fucking trap. There is no possible way that this isn't a fucking trap.

Natasha rolls her eyes at him. "We're plying them with booze to try and keep them from suing us into the ground for inflicting you on the populace. Now shut up and go change. You're not wearing those pants."

"I'm—" He cuts himself off mid-refusal. There's not a chance, not even a fraction of a percent of one, that Ava would take offense to him not wanting to go. He's told her, on multiple occasions, that he hates getting dragged out to these things. His friends are awful, and they just do this to torture him. He's not inclined to entertain that most weeks, and Ava knows that. "I don't have any other pants aside from—"

"Yes, you do."

"I'm not wearing tux pants to a—"

"The leather ones you keep for long rides."

Bucky stops, and not because Natasha just revealed knowing another secret he hasn't told her. That shit doesn't even phase him anymore. His eyes move down to the blue button-up she's trying to force him into, his lips pursing slightly. The leather pants she's not supposed to know about are worn to hell and back at this point. Heavy weathering, a hole or two at the back of the heels, more than a few deep scratches that'll become holes if he's not overly careful. Not the kind of thing that would usually be suitable for a night out. 

That button-up is new, though. Looks expensive, too. Good quality silk. It'll look more natural on him under a jacket. Less like a significant effort and more like something he got roped into. Which is precisely what's happening.

Bucky sighs deeply, looking back up at her in resignation. "I have some ground rules."

"You're allowed to have approximately one."

He looks over at Steve in frustration. The bastard shakes his head with a cackle, a fresh scoop of Puffs halfway to his mouth. "Ooohoho, no. Nah-uh. There's a captain on deck tonight, but it is not me." He stands up, chewing quickly, a big dumb smile on his stupid face. "I'm being a good boy and following her orders."

Natasha knocks on the spot of hardwood directly in front of Bucky obnoxiously. "Name your singular rule. I still have to do my hair; hurry the hell up."

Her sass reminds him that he has to figure out what the fuck he's going to do with his hair. "I'm not dancing, for starters—"

"Great. None of us will hound you about dancing; you have my word. Go get dressed. We leave in an hour, and you'll be really embarrassed if I have to drag your unconscious body through the tower." Her eyebrows raise expectantly as she stands up, looking between him and the shirt. To add insult to injury, she taps her nails along his head on her way out of the kitchen.

Steve doesn't look over from where he's raiding the fridge for another snack. "For what it's worth, she sounded excited about the invitation."

Bucky's eyes squint suspiciously. "You invited her?"

"No, Nat did," he replies far too casually. "I was just in the room when she made the call."

"See, your fuck up here is that now I know—"

"I have information you can try to weasel out of me? Thanks, Buck, I appreciate that, seeing as I'm entirely inept when it comes to interrogation and spycraft—"

"Only for the most part. Was this your push or Nat's?"

"Are you asking to be a pest, or are you asking because you need to know?"

Bucky grinds his teeth. He can say the latter, and Steve will never know the difference. "I don't need to know, but—"

"Then fuck off." He shuts the fridge door with a gentle swing and a bright smile. "I have to go get dressed. So do you." He flicks at the bun resting against the back of Bucky's head on his way out. These fuckers are always touching him, and they don't pull the Canadian routine about it. "Should do something with your hair. It looks like it has blood on it."

It probably does. His last mission was designated complete all of twenty minutes ago, and he definitely bled through some of it. Bucky can't really tell on his end; he's still coming down from the adrenaline rush. Something Natasha used to her advantage, no doubt. 

"You fuck off," he grumbles long after Steve is out of earshot.

—

"I'm completely serious."

"No, you're panickin', ya big baby."

"I mean it."

"I'd like to go ahead and remind you that I was there when you purchased most'a your wardrobe. Both times. I think I'd know if y'didn't."

"I can't wear any of that. It's one thing when it's my space—"

"You're allowed to exist in other places, ya dweeb."

"I didn't say I wasn't allowed. Just that...." Ava trails off, her nerves finally catching up to her. The argument had felt like a funny joke when she poked her head through the doorway to start it. Now it's not feeling so funny anymore. Paige is doing that awful, shitty thing where she makes sense. Leaning against the frame and glancing down at the master bedroom's carpet, Ava feels small. "I don't know. The stuff I wear to conferences is too—prim. Most of it's ballroom shit and wouldn't work, anyways. All of my usual go-to's just... It all feels... stupid."

The energy drink chugging champion that is her best friend props herself up on her elbows where she's laid out on her bed. The headband she's wearing has two miniature alien heads poking up from it that wiggle with the motion. "Well, hey there, Alec. Long time no see, ya son of a—"

"Yeah, yeah," Ava waves her hand dismissively. The reminder does knock some of the pity party out of her, at least. There was a time when she made decisions for herself and herself alone. Those were damn good years, and Ava is trying like hell to get back into the mindset. The one she proudly lived in before she let someone talk her into being ashamed of who she is. "Let my freak flag fly, whatever. I still don't have anything to wear." Nothing that doesn't feel crushingly laughable, anyways.

"What about that lace skirt you've got, the one with the swirly patterns? That one's so cute."

Ava frowns. She's not looking to get squished in hosiery tonight, which would be the only way to save herself in something that short. "For dancing?"

"Mmm. That's, ya know, that ain't a bad point. It ain't exactly built for the breeze." Paige tilts her head to the side, making the aliens go wild. Her face pinches like she's brainstorming. Then her eyes go wide with excitement. "Oh! Wear that—the, the thing!"

"Gonna need more to go on." She snaps her fingers as Paige smacks at her own bedspread.

"The wrap dress!"

"You're out of your mind," Ava laughingly insists. Now that she's caught up to her best friend's train of thought, she's almost startled. "That's—first of all, I think it's technically a sun dress—"

"Who gives a shit? Ya look great in it."

"I look—that's beside the point. It... it's not too...?"

"Too...?"

"Shit, I don't know." She folds her arms over her chest and chews her lip for a few seconds. "What do I wear with it?"

"Nothin' but heels." The smirk on Paige's face is devious.

"You know what else isn't built for the breeze? Me. I'm not looking to flash the Avengers tonight, thanks." The words make her instantly think of Bucky, shamefully enough. He's not even going to be there tonight. She's absolutely sure of it. He's told her how much it takes to convince him to go out these days.

The manic pixie rolls her eyes. "Alright. The dress, the heels, and somethin' stringy."

"How about a jacket?" Ava reasons, already turning to go back to Paige's guest room, the one that's been unofficially hers for years.

"Pick one that's sheer, ya chickenshit," she shouts down the hallway behind her.

"That's a lot of sass coming from the woman who can't look America's Sweetheart in the eye!" 

"You'll thank me when you don't wake up here!"

Ava gets hit with the mental reminder that a certain sergeant has been threatening to fly her home for over a week. She hip-bumps her unofficial door closed with a huff. 

Bucky's not going to show up tonight. 

Even if he was, the man's a serial flirt, and she's his—the primary neurosurgeon on his case. Not-flirting through his appointments has been…. She's been trying to think of it as a bedside manner. A very unprofessional bedside manner. The kind she wouldn't have the balls to admit to out loud.

Natasha didn't mention him directly during the invitation call, only his case. All she said was that the whole team was welcome, including the duct rat, Findley. No mention of other attendants. It would have been brought up if he were going to be there; Ava's sure of that. 

Natasha did mention getting Paige home on time, which was suspicious. Tomorrow is the engineer's first mission assigned to the Avengers as support, sure, but they don't seem like the type to need a pre-check. Ava's only seen a handful of SHEILD agents listed in the medical reports from Bucky's missions, and he never mentions any of them directly. She's always gotten the impression that assigned agents are an unknown hand in that machine.

If Steve ends up tagging along, she'll have her suspicions about the Russian's intent with this whole thing. She might have an ally in the fight to push her best friend that she didn't know about. 

Maybe she'll go to the tower after Paige is home safe. Ava's brought up the idea of switching to night appointments before, and she doubts Bucky would say no to a quick ten minutes on the roof. He might even stay for a while without having the excuse of leaving her to her work. 

She could pick up some late-night bagels to bribe him with. Her favorite shop closes early, but they work til midnight sometimes just for the baking process. Ava does the yearly medical work for the owner and his family without charging him. In return, he lets her sneak in after hours for cream cheese and salmon. With that and a quick stop to her office for a handful of lollipops, she's got herself some super soldier bait. 

She might not even stop to change back out of the dress. She'll grab the lab coat, though. Bucky looks more at ease whenever she has it on.

—

He wants to leave already.

It's been eighteen seconds since they coraled him through the front door. He's very proud of himself. He didn't think he'd make it to half that before the urge hit.

Bucky looks around the crowded bar with the sourest face he can muster. It's loud, it's cramped, it's loud, he's already hot enough to know he'll be sweating at some point, and it's too fucking loud. The checkpoint out front is a disaster. He's not real clear on what the standards for a bar security chief are, but that pick-up artist with the handheld, battery-powered metal detector out front doesn't fit his definition of competent. Not by a long shot.

The Avengers haven't rolled out with the full roster tonight. Tony, mercifully, is away with Pepper, Barton fucks off to god knows where, and Rhodey's as much of a workaholic as Bucky is. He tries not to think about where Thor goes. That particular can of worms is pretty full. He's still trying to get used to the fact that they've got a Quinjet that can just go to space. Whenever he—they want.

The ones that did come don't give him any shit when he breaks off to do his walk-about. They all figured out pretty early on that it's a sensitive subject. Bruce doesn't even notice him leave half the time. Steve used to do a piss-poor job of inconspicuously following him back when Bucky was primarily non-verbal. Natasha never mentions it.

The building is two stories. There's a halfway decent camera set-up that he can tap into through the wifi. No windows in the bathrooms. The roof access isn't wired with an alarm. All the emergency exits are, though. The owner's room was locked before Bucky got to it, but the staff areas are open to whoever turns a handle. They've got a round of code inspections coming up at the start of next month. They'll fail at least two of them if they don't unblock that rear door.

Sam silently checks in with an offered fist bump once he's back at the table eight minutes later. Bucky doesn't hesitate to reciprocate it. There's already a half glass of whiskey sitting on the table waiting for him. He doesn't hesitate to get his mitts on that, either.

Wyatt and Hannah show up before Ava and Paige do. It's the first time Bucky's been faced with meeting them since Ava offered that one time. She never pushed it after that. He's been meaning to get around to it. But the idea has been making his teeth buzz too much to go through with it.

Hannah is laser-focused on him from the start. She's just as conscious of it as he is, then. He can tell the moment that the realization hits Wyatt. His eyes widen with a flash of concern, his burly frame curling in on itself as if that'll make six feet of muscle look less threatening. It's almost heartwarming that he's worried about looking threatening to Bucky, of all people. The anxiety on the kid's face gets swallowed up by excitement. Seconds later, another wave of anxiety surfaces. It teeters back and forth as Hannah pushes him up to the table through the crowd.

Bucky watched Atlantis the other night after one of his nightmares took away any chance of falling back to sleep. It saved him from having to wake Steve up for a trip to the supply store. He texted Ava about it once he spotted the sun through the small gap in his blackout curtains; she was thrilled. Seeing the baby-faced brain surgeon nervously approach the table makes him understand why she compares him to Milo, not Dr. Sweet. 

Bucky's not looking to be the aggressive silent type anymore. At least not when it comes to the people working their asses off for him. He reaches out with his flesh hand, giving a reassuring half-smile to Wyatt. "Good to finally meet you, Combs."

The grin that stretches across the doctor's face looks wide enough to hurt. A stubby hand reaches out across the table for an enthusiastic shake. "It's an honor to meet you, Sergeant Barnes."

"I'll sign that journal Ava's warned me about if you promise to call me Bucky," he bribes, taking his hand back for another sip of whiskey.

"Y'mean it?" He's already headed for his patch-covered messenger bag with a hopeful look on his face. "I can use whatever makes ya comfortable. I'm not gonna make ya sign—"

"Hand it over." He glances over to where Hannah is sitting down across from Bruce. They trade an amicable nod when she makes direct eye contact again. "It's good to meet you, as well, Schuster."

"Barnes." He hears the sound of a boot being kicked under the table and watches Wyatt glare at the side of her head. She gives Bucky a strained smile. He's got a feeling it's usually strained. "Likewise."

Bucky likes her already.

As Ava warned, it doesn't take long for Wyatt to start asking about maps. He's bombarded with questions the moment he hands the journal back, with a fresh, chicken-scratch signature on one of its pages. The kid has a lot of trouble picking one at a time, and Bucky's trying not to shorten his answers out of habit. 

He keeps a mental list of the information Wyatt's most interested in. A year ago, he would have done it out of ingrained habit. Tonight it's a deliberate choice. Bucky can get his hands on records the Combs family doesn't know about. The kind they can't make a legal request for because there's no official log of it.

Ava and Paige are the last to arrive. He's too busy trying to give Wyatt more stories when they walk through the door to spot them. Steve is the first to notice their entrance, pausing mid-sentence about a mission the Howlies went on that Bucky barely remembers. Looking away from Wyatt's face, he understands why his best friend froze up. 

Good fucking god almighty. She's trying to kill him.

The doctor that haunts Bucky's dreams is walking through the crowded bar in an outfit that should be triggering the tactical analysis in his head. The analysis that, lately, only ends when his mind catches up to the fact that he shouldn't be thinking about being balls-deep in her while trying to make eye contact. It's probably—definitely inappropriate. But something about the thin, light blue fabric of her dress is shorting him the fuck out. 

It's low-cut, which is the first strike. The second is the way that split up her right leg only stops when it reaches the top of her thigh. The third—the one that really knocks him flat on his ass—is the way the whole thing is pulled in to show off her hips. The ones he'd have a lot of trouble letting go of if she ever let him put his hands on her to begin with.

He roughly swallows around nothing but air. His eyes shoot up to Ava's face, desperate to stave off his bastard mind latching onto her outfit. The last thing he needs in his head right now is a full-scale plan for laying her out on the table to unwrap that thing like a present. She's smiling at him, genuine surprise shaping most of her expression. God willing, it's about his presence here, not where his eyes were a second ago.

"They let you out of the house now?" she sasses him over the roar of the bar. Her hand folds into a fist and props high on her hip as she stops at the table's edge, her other arm linked with her best friend's.

Bucky is so fucking hopeless for her. "Yes, ma'am. But only if I get enough green stickers that week."

"In that case, thanks for behaving. I didn't think you'd be here tonight." That smile of hers is still bright as the sun. Still aimed at him. Christ, he's never been happier about Natasha ruining his life. "I'm pleasantly surprised around you, for once."

Gimmie half a chance, and I can show you every kind of pleasant surprise there is. 

If this were 1943, he'd still have the balls to say it to her. It'd be suicide to say it around his idiot friends, but he was a dumbass who wouldn't have hesitated back then. Not with someone like her. 

It's probably a good thing it's not still 1943. "If I make all the surprises annoy you, you'll tell me to stop. I have to keep you on your toes, or you'll get bored."

One of her eyebrows raises at him, entirely unimpressed. It makes him want to hold her hand. "You do understand how cool my job is, right? You're also a literal cyborg I get to poke at whenever I feel like telling you it's medically necessary. What part of that am I supposed to get bored with, sergeant?"

Bucky folds with a shy chuckle, bringing up his glass of whiskey to hide his mouth behind. "You get used to the shiny parts."

"I'm sure he'll let you add more when he busts his ass again," Sam jokes from off to Ava's left. He's staring at Bucky with an overly satisfied grin. It makes him glare over his whiskey while Ava and Paige sit down.

"Sorry we're late," Paige says, her eyes moving to Steve and her cheeks turning slightly pink. "Gettin' through Bronx traffic is always fun."

"Ordered Ryder's usual," Hannah mentions, pointing to a tall glass of ale the waiter dropped off while he wasn't looking. "Didn't know what you were in the mood for."

"Somethin' fizzy." She rhythmically taps her mismatched nails on the table, humming to herself while she glances over the drink menu. "Or maybe somethin' icey."

"I went the margarita route if you wanna go halfsies tonight," Wyatt offers, nudging his frosted glass over to her. Paige perks up and leans over for a sip.

He looks over at Steve, who's watching the interaction with the sappiest smile. It nearly makes his eyes roll. Natasha and Sam sniffed out the captain's big crush a long time ago, but it's the first time Bucky's seeing it for himself.

Neither one of them has learned a goddamn thing. Not in a hundred years.

A much more gentle nail taps right in front of his arm, dragging his eyes back to Ava while she gets herself seated. "What made you decide to come?" 

She would hit him with a question that blunt right off the bat. He tries not to notice Sam's silent laughter next to her. 

"Heard the egg heads were making an appearance," he decides to be mostly honest with.

The pleased smile on her face takes on a softer edge. She really hadn't been expecting him to show. It makes him all the more glad that he listened to Natasha. "We convinced you?"

You did. "You're surprised? I'm not about to put in the effort for these assholes."

"He only does that for our birthdays," Sam tells her, leaning into her space slyly. 

Bucky holds out his hands, mildly insulted. "And bank holidays."

Ava turns her head to offer her hand to Sam with a warm giggle. She looks so fucking good in the low bar light. With her neck muscles stretched like that, Bucky wants to kiss under her jaw just to see her reaction. "I've been hoping we'd meet again under better circumstances. Ava Ryder."

Sam barks a laugh, wrapping his hand around hers. "I'd say watchin' you hand Steve his own ass was great circumstance."

"Well thanks," Steve interjects, flipping him off before going back to drawing on a napkin with Paige.

The comment, and the gesture, gets ignored entirely. "Sam Wilson, but you can call me your favorite Avenger."

Bucky almost rolls his eyes again. Watching Ava's giggles get worse stops the urge.

—

She was wrong.

He came out tonight. To a bar. To spend time with them.

Ava takes another drink of her ale, watching the Winter Soldier over the rim of her glass. Wearing a dress that could unwind from her with a few strategic yanks on a couple pieces of string. And heels that could have paid a month of her first apartment's rent. In a New York bar.

If her parents could see her now, they'd croak.

Bucky is so goddamn attractive in his dark leather jacket that it's un-fucking-real. The bastard looks softer with his hair down like that, and there's chest hair peaking out from that button-up he's left open to a torturous degree. It keeps distracting her every time he turns to say something to Steve. His hand is the only shiny part on display at the moment. 

The glory tales from Steve don't do the heartstopping aura justice. The fact that Bucky has had the nerve to lie—to her face no less—and say they're blown out of proportion makes her seethe sitting across from him now. No wonder he was prolific; how the hell could he not be with a face like that and the attitude to back it. Now that he's not in a professional headspace, the latter is coming out in spades. The super serum body is a mouthwatering, climbable bonus.

This is the man that keeps threatening to fly her home.

Ava takes a longer drink.

She hasn't been this in over her head since college. The familiar knee-jerk reaction of bullying him is the only thing that doesn't feel petrifying. Bucky is the last person that would make her feel unsafe, but good god, the man is intimidating. Trying to find something to say to him that isn't a joke is a lot harder than usual, with him looking that good.

Paige tuned out the moment Steve gave her meticulously outlined boxes to doodle in on an unfolded napkin. He's been adding detailed frames to them ever since while the two trade work stories. It makes Ava jealous. Her best friend might be oblivious, but at least she's not the one tongue-tied tonight.

Knocking her knees together under the table, Ava leans forward and tries another round of facing down the sergeant. "Worth the trip so far?"

Way to go, moron. Pressure him, why don't you? Of course he's having a good time; he wouldn't still be sitting here if he—

Bucky smiles at her, calming her nerves without even trying. "Every second." He looks down at the glass in her hand, then back up at her face. "You havin' fun, doc?"

She misses hearing him call her doll. It's starting to feel like maybe it was an accident the handful of times it happened. He hasn't done it in days. "Unlike you, I enjoy human interaction. Plus, the hippie thing makes me partial to loud noises." And sweat. And weed to make the loud noises sound better. And men with long hair and deep voices that would sound—

"I don't mind human interaction," he argues, folding his arms on the table and leaning over with her. "I'm just picky about the people I interact with."

"Awww," Paige coos at her side. "And we made the cut? I'm honored."

"You should be," Steve confirms with a smirk, his eyes never leaving the napkin under his hand. "He's not exaggerating."

"That's unusual for him," Ava jumps on Bucky with. She regrets it right up until he snorts and briefly covers his mouth with his hand. It's a real fuck up on his end; she takes it as an all-clear to do it to him again at her leisure. "The only people I've met with bigger heads are cardiologists."

"That's the second time you've brought them up," Bucky notes. She honestly can't remember the first, but it sounds accurate. They're fun to mock.

"Nice deflection, superstar." His eyes widen a fraction at her teasing, boosting her confidence. "Have you had the displeasure of meeting one? I'm allowed to be mean to them as a neurologist, by the way. Secret doctor pecking order and whatnot."

"If I have, I probably don't want to remember," he deadpans. Steve gives him a dirty look, but it makes Ava snort. The smug look Bucky gives her in return makes her stomach flip. "I wanna hear more about this secret doctor pecking order. How far up that chain are you?"

"I don't know, man. How far up is your brain?" 

Bucky's eyes shut in pain, and he smiles. "It's so hard to be proud of your ego when your awful puns surround it."

"You'll manage," she assures in a supportive tone. 

A low whistle drags Ava's eyes to one end of the table, where Natasha is getting up. "I'm going dancing. It's up to you losers who's coming."

A majority of the table, including most of Ava's team, moves to follow. She doesn't. Bruce and Hannah don't, continuing their discussion on a medical journal he read that morning. Bucky doesn't leave either.

He watches Ava as Paige leans over to kiss the top of her head. She's pretty sure he watches her all through their short yes, I'll watch your bag check-in. He's still watching her when she looks back at him, slowly circling his glass to make the whiskey inside it swirl.

"Not a fan of dancing?" he finally asks.

"I like dancing," Ava confirms. "I just like picking on you more." The words feel outrageously bold for how innocuous they are. It's the truth, but she feels a little stupid for saying it out loud. Whatever, if it means spending the night out with him, that's fine—

Bucky puts down his glass, a determined set to his posture. "Dance with me."

Her jaw almost drops. She doesn't catch her nervous burst of laughter in time to stop it. "I—what? You? Bucky Barnes, mister touch me and die himself wants to—"

"I let you touch me all the time." The tone he uses for the blatant—

Christ, is she ever in over her head.

She ignores his flirting like a coward, racing to hide behind professionalism as fast as her mouth can get her there. "The funny thing about that is I have your willing participation—"

"You've got my willing participation for this, too." He sounds like he means it, which is the worst part. It makes it impossible to bring herself to tell him no.

She hesitates one last time, primarily out of fear of embarrassing herself. "You're sure you want to dance?"

"With you?" Bucky stands up, allowing her to see the well-worn leather sitting low enough on his hips to turn her into a bigger wreck. "Yeah, doll. I'm sure."

Hannah leans over to slide the bag Paige left behind across the table, closer to her. She doesn't bother to stop talking. Bruce is smiling from ear to ear, stealing glances at her and Bucky. He's doing a terrible job of hiding it. 

Standing up on nervous feet, Ava watches Bucky circle the table. He offers up his flesh hand when he approaches her, his signature Brooklyn smirk on his face. "Ready?"

Fuck no. She slides her hand into his, breathing deeply when he squeezes her fingers. "I really hope someone's given you the memo on modern dancing because I have no idea what the hell you people did in the 30s." 

"I'm sure you'll help me figure it out." He's sounding more confident with every word, and it's scaring the absolute shit out of her. 

It's innocent at the start. Bucky's a perfect gentleman leading her through the crowd. He spins slowly to face her when he finds them a wide enough space, pulling her in close. The pressure of his fingers is barely there when his metallic hand moves to her lower back. Ava brings both her hands up to his chest when he lets go of one of them. 

"You'll tell me if you're uncomfortable, right?" she checks again, stretching up as close to him as she can. There's no way he has trouble hearing her over the music, but she doesn't remember that until she's all but hanging off him. It makes her cheeks feel warm.

His flesh hand moves over her hip, resting on it gently. Bucky leans down and turns his head in, getting right up to her ear. He's already starting to guide the direction of her half-hearted movements. "I will. You gonna do the same?"

"I will," she promises. Mirroring his words is the only thing her brain can come up with, given how unfairly good he smells. It's obliterating every train of thought she has. 

It is… terrifyingly easy to let herself go in his arms. The movement of her hips gets more involved, following the tempo of the song and the direction of his hand. Hers go up to his shoulders, bringing him in closer a fraction at a time. By the time the song changes, she gives up and lets them wrap around the back of his neck. 

Somewhere around the third song, when the bar's DJ is trying to ramp up into a faster energy, she ends up turned away from him. Ava isn't sure how it happened. It could have been his doing; she's not paying all that much attention. All she knows is he's pressed up against her back now, the hand on her hip moving towards her leg incrementally. Her head tilts off to the side as her eyes close, letting the Winter Soldier guide her.

His fingers stop their advance once they reach the top of the gap in her dress, the one that splits up her thigh. She gives him all of thirty seconds to figure out if he's brave enough to go further on his own. Then the ego boost from having Bucky—of all fucking people—trying to make a move on her wins out over her fear. 

Ava lays her fingers on top of the hand hesitating on her leg, urging it down. 

The first touch of his skin on hers makes them both suck in a breath. She can feel the tension in him against her back. He gets over his nerves faster after that. His hand glides down the length of her thigh, and his fingers curl under the fabric when it comes back up. Not all that far, but the intent is there.

In escalating boldness, she reaches for his metal hand, dragging it to rest at the top of her ribs. His nose comes brushing across her temple at that point, giving her an idea of how close he's keeping himself around her with her eyes closed. One of her hands goes up into his hair, and that's when things really go off the fucking rails.

His thumb moves in a wide arc, dragging across the underside of one of her breasts. Her fingers curl around his hair, and her head rolls in toward him. If she tilts it up, she could brush her nose against his; that's how far into her space he is. And then the hand on her thigh moves in.

The pounding music swallows up the slight sound it pulls from her, but she's willing to bet Bucky heard it. She leans back against him, making him freeze up momentarily. He's already moving again before her mind finally pieces together the why.

He's hard, Ava realizes.

With one hand under her tits and the other getting itself further between her thighs. With her ass pressed back against him. With his towering frame curled all the way around her.

Sergeant James Barnes is hard as a rock. For her.

—

How the hell he hasn't gotten his good arm ripped off yet, Bucky's not quite sure. It feels impossible that she's just... letting him do this. 

Spinning her around really fucked him over. He had been behaving pretty well up until then. He'd even managed to hold off on putting his hand as far down her back as that fucking dress allows for. But then he'd been dumb enough to turn her, and her head had relaxed off to the side, and god, it took every ounce of restraint he has not to kiss the length of her neck.

Now she's leaning back against him, fully aware of how wound up he is, and he can't figure out where to stop. She isn't slowing down any part of his stumbling. There's no new tension in her now that she's in the know about the current state of his cock. Her hips are still fucking moving, and now they're moving against him.

She's going to kill him tonight, probably right out here on this dancefloor. He just hasn't figured out if it's going to be murder or manslaughter.

He lets his left hand get bolder, trying to test the waters one last time before he lets his right one go any further. He moves it up, his thumb brushing over her nipple. He hears her pull in a shaking breath while it skims back down the side. She doesn't stop him, making him want to bite at her neck all over again. 

With no signs of her looking for an out, and not one shred of critical thinking or self-control left in his head, Bucky slides his hand further up the inside of her thigh. Her fingers tighten in his hair, nearly pulling on it at this point. All he has to do is hike up his thumb, and he'll get more information than he's probably ready to have. She could tell him to drop to his knees right here; he's mildly certain he'd do it. 

That dress is so goddamn thin. There's no weight to it at all. He can't spot the outline of anything, but he knows from how high her tits are sitting that she's got a bra on, at least. Another inch or two up with his thumb, and he'll be able to tell for himself if she came out tonight with underwear on. He's not entirely out of the goddamn loop; he knows skipping it is a much more common practice nowadays. 

Bucky's almost hoping his favorite hippie is the type. He's spent a lot of time fantasizing about ways to get her out of them. That doesn't mean he's not going to fucking lose it if his fingers don't find a strip of fabric between her legs. 

The flash of a new fantasy hits him, one of Ava letting him pin her to the alley wall out back with his head between her legs. If he takes her around the corner, he won't have to stop when the kitchen staff come out for a smoke break. If she does have underwear on, he can leave it in her mouth to keep her quiet. Or reach up to make her bite down on his fingers. With the serum and her height, it'd work like a dream.

The curiosity becomes a burning need, driving his hand all the way up. When he first touches her, it's not with his thumb, and it's not a gentle brush. He pushes his middle and index finger along the length of her lips, coming into contact with lace that's wet.

"Fuck." The word is choked when it tumbles out of him. He's coated his hand to the thought of her so many times over by now. And here she is, pushing herself up against him and just as worked up about it.

Her hand grips his arm tight enough to bruise in reaction. She doesn't push him away. God fucking help him, she doesn't stop moving either. Still, there's something about her body language that's not sitting right in his gut. She's not pushing him away. But she's not pulling him along anymore.

That's not always a stop sign. Bucky knows that. Some people like leaving the significant steps in the hands of their chosen partner. She's silently urged him to keep going a few times already. Assuming she wants that to continue isn't out of the question. But he's not the kind of man who's comfortable with that leap. Not anymore.

He moves his hand down an inch, leaving it between her legs. Not on top of the lace he wants to bite at. If she's interested, she'll put it back. Simple as that.

Bucky waits, holding her close with his metal arm around her ribs and his nose pressed into her hair while they dance. She's hesitating now, which has him convinced he made the right call. He's not self-wallowing enough to take it as a rejection. It's not like he'd been planning for this to go anywhere near as far as it did to begin with.

Her hand pulls at his hair in a way that feels conflicted. She tilts her head up, her eyes finally opening to look at him. Yeah, there it is. Right there in her eyes. It's finally catching up to her.

"I..." she tries, her mouth opening and closing a few times. "We can...."

"We can keep going," he finishes for her, not backing off from his hold on her. "We absolutely can. Or we can head to the bar and watch them make something with a cherry on it. I'm more than comfortable with both."

He watches her chew over the offered out, her eyebrows pulling in. He doesn't push her; he's not looking to make the call for her. If she wants him to get her off right here on this dancefloor, he's pretty damn sure he'd be willing at this point, even with the threat of criminal charges. He's also ready to let go and spend the rest of the night doing something that doesn't make her look torn. Even if it means ending it early.

"We should probably go to the bar." Probably. She doesn't sound happy about it, meaning it's fueled by her professionalism. He understands why she has the line. He respects the shit out of it.

"We probably should," he agrees. He doesn't move his hands. She hasn't moved hers. 

Her eyes move down to his mouth, and fuck does that do a number on his impulse control. He hopes she doesn't feel how it makes his cock jump. Ava Ryder wants to kiss him. It feels odd to celebrate that, considering where his fingers were a minute ago, but fuck. The girl of his dreams wants to kiss him.

"Let's go to the bar." The frustration in her voice almost makes him laugh. It definitely makes him smile as he turns his metal hand over to link with hers.

"You drink anything other than ale, doll?" He lets his fingers brush over the skin of her thigh reassuringly as he pulls it back out from under her dress. She looks so mad at the world, her face scrunching under her glasses. He wants to kiss her more than he's ever wanted anything in his life.

Ava takes a deep breath that she lets out with a huff. It looks like it cools off some of the annoyance. "My answer depends on how much of a narc you are, g-man."

He puts his arm around her shoulder, dragging her in close to his side. His friends will hand him his ass over this for a month, but he's not about to let her feel rejected. He's trying to respect a boundary, not ward her off. "Lucky for you, this g-man has medical strains growing in his room at the tower."

"There's no fucking way. You're telling me the Winter Soldier grows weed?"

"Are you tellin' me you buy yours? Chump."

She snorts hard enough to feel the need to cover her mouth. It makes Bucky feel damn good being able to make her laugh again that fast. "I can't believe I'm being ridiculed about the source of my pot by a senior citizen."

He holds back on reminding her that she was about to let a senior citizen stick his hand down her panties. "Has it convinced you to give up the inaccurate jokes about my job?"

"Inaccurate, he says! Don't you have a literal badge you can shove in people's faces?" Ava doesn't lean against the bar when they reach it. She stays pressed up against him while he leans on it, distracting the hell out of him. He looks down the line of people, searching for a bartender to give himself a second to refocus. "I think that's a pretty clear-cut definition of a fed."

"I think you're trying to find out if I've got a pair of cuffs handy." This is the other problem presented with her letting him go that far; it burned through what little filter he has. Now that he knows she's interested and not just humoring him, he's fucked. Hearing his own words still makes him wish he'd shut his damn mouth.

He hears her laugh in surprise again, but he's not brave enough to look at her yet. There's a momentary lull filled with the sounds of rowdy New Yorkers kicking off their weekend. Then he feels her head lean against his arm. "Something tells me you could improvise without them."

It's manslaughter. She's trying for manslaughter. By god, she's going to accomplish it if she says some shit like that again.

"I can improvise whenever you need me to." He finally looks back at her, catching her ogling his chest. Again. Her cheeks are a few shades darker. It's good to know he's not the only one reeling. "You should answer my question first, though. Unless you're looking to put in the order."

Her eyes finally flick up to his, and her smile turns shy before she looks away. "Surprise me. I burn more than drown. I'm sure you can think of a fun option to entertain me with."

Bucky should have guessed she'd give him a run for every cent he earned back when he still had his mojo. It feels like he's trying not to trip over himself while she's still getting warmed up. "One entertainment, comin' right up."

She gives him a look, doing a lousy job of holding back her amusement. "You don't get to complain about my puns if you're going to tell dad jokes like that."

"You're just jealous that mine are better." He finally flags down a bartender over her shoulder, throwing out an order for two Mai Tais. The only other cocktail he can think of off the top of his head is a Sex on the Beach, and he sure as shit doesn't have the balls to order that in front of her at the moment. A Moscow Mule is not a cocktail in his eyes. It's also not the kind of inappropriate he's looking for.

Ava's finger hooks into his front pocket, threatening to ruin every effort he's made toward getting his cock to calm the fuck down. "Some of your jokes are pretty great; I'll give you that. The dry ones make my day."

It feels backwards—and mildly alarming—to hesitate to brush her hair behind her ear for a moment. A few minutes ago, he'd been ready to go down on her in front of a room full of people. Now he's trying to find the nerve to touch her at all. Doing so gets easier when her eyes slip closed at the feeling of his fingertip moving down the side of her head. 

"Seeing you makes my day," he murmurs, not caring about letting his mouth run. It feels less intimidating in the wake of her compliment. God knows it's going to sit in his head. Probably forever. The fact that she probably can't hear it over the music certainly doesn't hurt.

Her eyes open back up slowly, with her smile taking on a wicked edge. "You feel like showing me your stash, old man?"

—

They haven't talked about it.

It's been less than an hour since they stopped dancing. In under sixty minutes, Bucky managed to get them a drink and all the way through Manhattan to the Avengers Tower. On a Friday, no less.

No wonder they threaten to revoke his license. Ava thought she was a speed freak behind the wheel. Now that she's got firsthand experience as his rear passenger, Bucky being allowed to have a motorcycle makes her question SHIELD more than ever.

He let her go up to the roof without him. He made it sound like he was doing her a favor by not making her go out of her way just to raid his stash with him. She's guessing it's got more to do with not being down for a surprise tour of his space. It's not as if she's going to fault him for it. 

The idea that she's actually going to let him fly her home after this is already hitting her nerves. If that's throwing her off, she has no clue where she's going to find the will to bring up the subject of—this. Tonight. What happened.

How far she was about to let it go.

He smells too good. She's decided to blame it on that, at least in her head. Mainly to make herself feel better about crossing that many ethical boundaries. It's easier than accepting that she was about to give a patient the go-ahead to finger her in the middle of a bar. Without so much as a word about it beforehand.

Ava pushes her hands under her glasses to hold her face, resisting the urge to scrub at it. She doesn't want to fuck up her makeup. Not while she still has to face Bucky. How stupid—and then she doubled down—god, now they're here, and he's getting weed—

"I was starting to think I'd never get you up here, doll."

The way his voice quells her anxious mind without any effort at all ties her stomach in a different kind of knot. She lowers her hands into her lap, giving him a half-smile. "I'd like to remind you that I'm the one who offered initially. And again tonight."

Bucky waves his free hand dismissively, his flesh one cradling a bag. "Semantics." He dumps it onto the wicker table she picked out herself. She hears glass hit metal, the sound muffled by the black cloth of the bag. "I didn't know if you were a bowl or a joint kinda gal. Figured I'd come prepared since I'm dealing with a degenerate commie."

"Steve was right about your manners," Ava insists, reaching out to open it with greedy fingers. She kicks her heels off under the table, getting distracted by the sight of him shaking his leather jacket off his shoulders. The man's tall enough to have to duck under the makeshift canopy built to account for Wyatt's height. "Tell me how many words you know for pot while I judge your choices."

"Are you forgetting they took me out for walks every few years?" Bucky walks around to her side and puts his jacket over her shoulders, surprising her. She looks up at him with a shy smile, momentarily forgetting the promise of weed picked out by a super soldier. He's such a gentleman that it's frankly obnoxious. One of his eyebrows raises at her. "Those walks included the 60s, young lady. I probably know more than you do."

"What do you remember about the 60s?" she goads as he sits down next to her.

"Plenty." Bucky props his arm up on the back of the couch, leaning into her space. She's grateful for it. Even with his jacket around her, it's freezing up here. The added warmth isn't the only reason she's grateful for it. "Personally, though, I think you would have had a better time in the 70s." He tilts his head back and forth a few times. "At least the parts of it I fucked around in."

The mental image of the Winter Soldier undercover in some sleazy disco hits her like a ton of bricks. It feels wildly inappropriate, even with him talking about it that openly. All the fantasies she has of Bucky do. Especially the ones she uses to get herself off lately. 

"I'm going to take your word for it," she murmurs. There's so much potential there to poke at him. He's offering up the bait on his end. Hell, there's still the list of weed names to dig for. But she can't get her mind to latch onto any of it with him this close.

He nudges his chin in the direction of her hands, which are still hovering in his little heap of paraphernalia. "You should start us up so I can get you home at a reasonable hour. I don't know how fast you like to—smoke."

It's astounding how good he is at riding the line between being a gentleman and a terror.

Ava looks back down at her hands with a smile. "That depends on the accuracy of your warning about this couch-locking me. Technically I'm off tomorrow, so I'm not about to say no."

"Do you smoke medicinal strains?"

"On occasion. I started for anxiety, oddly enough. Then I noticed it helped with my mood overall." She shrugs, setting aside his box of hemp papers. There's a heavy-looking grinder and two different pipes further in. One of them's a goddamn steamroller. He sticks with quality from what she can see so far. "I feel like there's a bong that was held back from this collection."

"There's a lot that was held back. I'm not gonna parade all my ill-gotten goods through the tower." His pauses while she gets the last of it emptied out." You gonna show me how it's done or put me to the test?"

"Definitely the latter." She turns her head to smile at him innocently, pushing her glasses up her nose. It makes his lips twitch. "I don't see anything to assist rolling. Does that mean you're confident enough to show me your handiwork?"

Bucky scoffs, his expression becoming entirely unimpressed. He almost looks offended, leaning over to grab the papers and the grinder. "You're telling me you people need tools these days? After all the work I put into teaching Captain America how to do it properly?"

Ava's brows shoot up in shock. "You're fucking kidding. I figured the weed was a new development—"

"Nah, I've been smoking since my first job." He's not watching his hands much as he lays out the foundation of his work. He's primarily watching her. "Worked for a guy that owed a corner store. He had family that ran a not-so-secret farm." He turns the grinder lid enough to loosen it, then flicks it to spin it the rest of the way off with a cocky grin. "I was an outstanding employee. So was Steve once I got him hired."

"America's Sweetest Stoners," Ava coos, making him chuckle. He's not stingy about what he's rolling for them. It makes her wonder how many plants he's got set up. "Do the two of you still smoke together?"

"He doesn't bother much. Takes a lot to build up any kind of buzz with our systems, so he looks at it the same way he does drinking at this point. He still shows up whenever Banner drops off some new hybrid monstrosity for me to try." Bucky glances over at her quickly, his fingers never stopping their work. "This is from one of the normal plants, don't worry. I won't start you off that far in the deep end."

Ava shrugs. Banner's main lab is here in the tower, so there's no chance the process isn't documented. JARVIS wouldn't let her use anything that could do her actual harm. "You can if you want, but you're responsible for explaining to Tony why I'm passed out on his roof."

He gives her the most insulted look. "I wouldn't leave you up on the roof. I'd be enough of a gentleman to carry you inside."

He's ruining her life. There's no way she's going to be able to walk away from tonight without being completely wrapped around his finger. It makes her smile at him like a hopeless fucking moron. "I believe you."

Bucky brings the most well-balanced joint she's ever seen up to his mouth, licking it closed in one smooth stroke. His eyes never leave hers. It makes her swallow. The fucker smirks at her and twirls the joint between his fingers, holding it out for her inspection.

"Well?" he prompts, watching her intently as she plucks it from his hand. He's preening. Waiting for his praise.

Goddamn him, she's going to have to give it to him. The joint is so perfectly rolled it's mesmerizing. Even distribution, not pulled overly tight, and meticulously sealed. She can't remember the last time she managed to do a job half that good. Bowls have always been her go-to. It's clear that this is his.

Ava giggles at the absurdity of it all. It feels surreal to be a step away from lighting up with a cyborg PoW she first read about in primary school. "You're such a dork. Shut up and hand over the lighter before your head explodes from being over-inflated."

"Now I know I did a damn good job by today's standards." For the second time that night, she gets the overwhelming urge to kiss Bucky as he reaches for the lighter. She props the joint between her lips to distract herself and lets him light it for her when he silently offers. The flame does stunning things to the color of his eyes in the dark. "You only tell me to shut up when you're really impressed with me."

She doesn't miss that he waited until she started inhaling to make the point. It makes her roll her eyes in exasperation. Ava can tell from the first drag that his shit is going to hit harder than her usual. She turns her head to blow it away from his face, handing back the joint. He tucks it between his fingers and brings it up to his mouth in one smooth motion.

"Now look who's outright lying. I tell you to shut up for various reasons." The muscles in his neck look unfairly good when he turns to exhale. It makes her want to run her tongue up his throat. She looks back up at his face. Everything below his chin is hazardous to her health at the moment. "I don't remember any of them being because I was impressed until now."

His eyes flick back to hers, then down to her mouth as he smiles. His hand was up her dress. It was between her legs only an hour ago. And yet watching him stare at her mouth still feels obscene. "You've got a real funny way of stroking my ego, doll."

"I get the feeling you enjoy it," Ava counters, snatching the joint from his fingers. "I wouldn't do it otherwise. You're always welcome to suggest an alternative."

"No, thanks. I'm a pretty big fan of what you do to me." 

Damn. Him.

Yes, the question was a check-in. Yes, she was trying to get a read on how far he wants this to go. Then he had to go and double down without hesitation. She knows by now what door he's trying to invite her through. 

Ava is so not brave enough for this conversation. It's not—it's complicated. She really shouldn't be working on his case if they're going to go down this road, at least not as his primary surgeon. She'll have to pass it on to Hannah and have a few very embarrassing conversations with a handful of people. Ones that involve fessing up to wanting to fuck Bucky Barnes.

She's not saying no. But she's not brave enough to say yes. At least not tonight, up here on the roof.

Ava leans back against the couch, feeling his arm curl in around her shoulders. "Good. Let me know if that changes."

—

u dont get to yell at me for the edging, i warned u that im gonna leave an * on smut chapters. anything less than Full Fuckin aint gettin the badge 😤 i have a Standard to uphold in this house of sin

(tho if anyone feels there shoulda been a warning tag for smthing you can always lemme know bb 💞)

also ill never be able to properly articulate how much i love writing cranky old fart bucko. heartstopper is stupid fun, feral trauma man keeps me on my toes, but stick-shaking geezer mode??? mr. “kids these days with their MEMES” himself??? beautiful. fantastic. superb. his final form, truly 🤌 i yearn to write more of it

anyways there are writers on the internet that can make their slow burn wholesome. in all my years on this space rock of ours, ive never been one of them

even if i do write the longfic of the sunshine dweebs steve and paige, that probably wont be all that wholesome of a slow burn either ajdhdskjfdjsjf. they ARE my tooth rotting fluff ship tho. mmm okay so maybe paige is a tragedy in disguise but its ME so thats expected 😌 the babes that like their romance extra sappy and cutesy take a lotta shit and deserve a Safe Space and steve rogers fits that bill, imho

bucky is for the babes that like to verbally get their hair pulled before hearing ily 🥰

the good news is, i get a few more chapters in this fic to torture you with before i let bucko and ava do the Big Sin (not murder, the other one. no, not hand holding, the other other one) 😌💖💞

also PieAnnamay's comment reminded me that i never linked my fav buckaroo fic, safe with me!!! for anyone else that hasnt stumbled upon bitsandbobsandstuff, i cant recommend them enough. i HIGHLY encourage you to go read through all their works while you’re waiting for updates on this, the bucky and steve fics are 😫🤌 perfection (i promise when i finally have a day to really do tumblr stuff, ill make a list of my fav fics/writers in my pinned post. i promise i will try to get to it Soon, i still havent even caught up on chapter posts there asldhfsadf)

❤️ https://archiveofourown.org/works/13798047/chapters/31721565