#because it seems to me they wanted someone who not only looked the part and could act well

[northwest-cryptid]

With the amount of notes this has I'm sure someone has already explained something like this but probably in a much better way than I can. However I'll try to explain it as best I can. I want to emphasize here that this information is based on conversations and discussions that I have had, with people who openly refer to themselves as Right Wingers (or who were previously Right Wingers) on forums and websites. While I am a Leftist and can't speak to how the Right operates from personal experience, I can speak as someone who has spoke to individuals who do know from personal experience.

The general gist is that the thing you need to keep in mind is that, so many of us on the Left have an understanding of what the problem really is. We get that the problem isn't that someone happens to be a man because of how they were born of because of their gender identity. However as someone with far less (if any) understanding of those societal issues they do not. They see the Left as saying "men are inherently bad." It gives them no recourse to not be a problem, they may not even actively be part of the problem yet but they don't know that the problem is larger than "you're a man, and I don't like that."

Meanwhile that meanspo you speak of, gives them direction. It gives them a direct out from being a person who is looked down on; and promises them that if they can just do these things on a checklist, they'll be respected, they'll live a good life; they'll be an "Alpha" or whatever. It's an easy decision when you feel like one side is telling you not to be what you are, because what you are is somehow inherently a problem; and they (the loud majority) hate you too much to explain how. While the other side is saying you're just not as good of a man as you should be, you're just a beta male because you don't do X, Y, Z.

As someone who is a Leftist who spends a lot more time than I probably should; actually talking to Right Wingers online. This is literally something people have told/asked me outright.

"Do you expect anyone in their right mind, to side with people who say they're wrong for just being a man; when the other side would offer them a ladder to be on top?"

If you notice, this statement neglects the actual problems, it summarizes the issue down to "you're wrong for just being a man." Which isn't what many of us are saying at all, but is what the Right, and individuals who would be converted to it; are hearing.

You are correct in saying it's objectively worse, in that yes; the Right are horrible people. They thrive on treating others on their side poorly to stay "above" them. However they always hold the promise over others that if you make enough money, if you work out, if you have enough sex; then you can also be on the top. The top doesn't seem that great when the bottom is comfortable enough. They have to ensure you feel like garbage but make sure you also have a clear understanding that it's only because you're not doing enough to climb the ladder.

Leftists don't really offer any similar ladder. Our issues with sexism, inequality, the patriarchy as a whole; etc. are a lot harder to break down. Not to mention that a good man isn't really given any reprieve from these problems, he's simply aware of them. A good man, no matter how good; can't just end racism or sexism himself. We don't do a lot to actually give men a proper course of action, we don't give them an easy to follow guide on how to be a good man by just doing quantifiable things, it's not that simple. We just tell them they're bad because the culture they grow up in is predisposed to turn young men into sexist, racist, bigots.

Obviously we're not all actually just saying "men are bad, fuck men; fuck you if you are a man." Some of us, I'd argue a lot of us, are actually trying to educate people as to the wider issues around "being a man" so to speak. I think that's sort of what leads to this question of "how could anyone in their right mind willingly side with the Right?" It's really no different than how cults recruit depressed and desperate people. The Right isn't watching for people to sort of react poorly once to a Leftist and then immediately jump in like "hey kid come join the Right!" It's more that they prey on dejected men who don't feel like they have direction. The Right gives them direction, it's awful; but it's something quantifiable. Last week they were a "beta male" this week they're going to the gym, they're talking to women; they're applying to jobs that pay more or whatever. Because some "Alpha male" made a video, blog post, podcast; etc. that told them that these things will make them successful, get them out of the rut they're in; and fix their problems.

It's a problem that can't be simplified down to a singular answer unfortunately, it's obviously much larger than that. This isn't meant to be a catch all "I've solve the grand mystery of why people are bigots!" Rather I'm just trying to offer some insight into one such potential cause.

the idea that reactionary spaces are attractive to men because they treat them kindly unlike The Left is so odd because whenever I come across that content it's essentially the same dynamic as pro ana "meanspo". if you don't know what that is, it's "motivation" based on degrading the viewer to the point where they can't "make excuses" and not become anorexic, or in this case a true Alpha Male. I feel like thisis objectively worse for someone's mental health than The Left

[elegantlyeva]

Hi! I was wondering If you'd be up for writing shy reader with Remus and him being just as flustered over her? Thank you!!

Out Of Order

 a/n: Thank you for requesting this was cute! <3

Word count: 0.5k

Remus heard the bell ring at the shop but paid no mind, really. He was assigned to the register, but the day was slow, and everyone who had come in so far had left without a book. 

The customer who walked in didn’t seem to need help. No one interrupted him, so Remus was deep into his book, slouched over the counter, when he heard someone shuffle, as if trying to make noise.

Then he heard a voice, “Hi.”

The sound of it alone caused him to freeze as he looked up. He blinked quickly, adjusting the reading glasses resting on his nose. The smile the stranger gave him made him clear his throat, sit up straight, and ditch the glasses altogether.

“Sorry. Sorry, uh, yeah?”

The smile you gave him made his cheeks flush, but he blamed it on the heater being right next to him.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. I just… I wanted to buy this,” you said, holding the book out to him. “I’m half convinced I should buy whatever book you’re reading. You didn’t notice I was here for like four minutes.” It was a joke, he thought, but he forgot to laugh, his eyes fixated on you as if trying to memorize your face.

You mistook his staring for judgment and cleared your throat. “I was just—”

He cut you off.

“Sorry, sorry! I swear I’m usually better at my job. Yeah, the book’s uh, good. I honestly think I just zoned out,” he said sheepishly. “But sure, I can ring this up for you.” He cringed at himself. “Obviously. That’s why you came up to me.”

You relaxed, realizing he was probably just a bit socially awkward—almost more than you.

You realized you should probably say something, but there was too long of a pause to continue, so you asked something else, “You like working here, then?”

Remus let out a breath, glad to move on. “Yeah, it’s nice. I don’t really have to do much. You’re the first person who’s actually bought something today,” he said, scanning the book’s barcode. The book you chose was part of a series Remus had read out of order. “The fourth book is horrible.”

You raised a brow. “You’ve read it?” The cover was purple, and you were surprised. He didn’t look like someone who would read it, but maybe that was just stereotypical. He looked smart, and his hair looked soft, and he smelled good, and—

“Well, not that one exactly. But the fourth book, yes.” He laughed a little. “Actually, now that I think about it, I might’ve only thought it was so bad because I had no idea what was going on without reading the first three.”

He watched you huff a little, a breathless laugh. “Yeah, that’s probably it,” you said, your voice soft, and he leaned in a bit to hear it, wanting to soak it up.

“You can let me know how it goes, then.” He felt his cheeks burn at the implication. “If you come back to buy the second one, I mean.”

He noticed the slight pink tinge to the apples of your cheeks, and he felt slightly better. He passed the bag to you, shuddering slightly when he felt your fingertips brush his.

You nodded, looking flustered. “Sure.” With that, you quickly exited the store, a grin on your face and ears tipped red.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Brother's Best Friend - Part 14

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: swearing, a smidge of angst, and some good ol' fluff because that's what BBF is all about!

WC: 2900+

Part 1 | Masterlist

You look up as the door creaks open, your hand sweating against Jake’s palm. Your chest tightens and your head swims. Suddenly, your vision blurs.

…

You hear your name, but it’s muted, like someone is saying it underwater. You open your eyes and see two anxious faces hovering over you. You try to sit up, but your head is heavy and your limbs are weak and you’re disoriented because Jake and Bradley’s voices are getting louder and more overwhelming with every second. You want to tell them to be quiet but the words can’t seem to form in your mouth, or, rather, you’re far too exhausted to make the effort to speak.

Slowly, you sit up, blinking into your lap as Jake says something about an ambulance. You pass a hand over your brow, noting the sweat that’s gathered there, as Bradley starts listing off the various nutrient deficiencies that you may or may not possess. You glance up at the two of them feebly.

Both enormous, grown-ass men are crouched before you, staring at you in terror.

“What happened?” Jake asks and you blink at him slowly, wondering the same thing.

“Are you okay?” Bradley says, tilting his head to the side so he could catch your gaze.

You nod uncertainly, because you’re not a hundred percent sure that you are. You look around unhurriedly, taking in your surroundings. You’re on the porch of your house in a cute little dress, and the porchlight is on because it’s dark out. And then it hits you like a ton of bricks. You’re still on the porch. Has Bradley been informed of the relationship? Or did he already know? Was he angry? Did you get caught in the crossfire and get knocked out?

You blink anxiously – and more alertly – between Jake and Bradley, trying to assess the situation. Neither of them seems to be paying any attention to one another; only to you. “What…” you start, but your voice croaks and you bring a hand up to your throat self-consciously. You clear your throat and start again. “What’s going on?” you ask casually, as though you’re not sitting unsteadily on the ground with no recollection of the last god knows how many minutes.

Bradley’s eyes widen in outrage. “What’s going on is you fucking fainted!”

You look at him with soaring eyebrows. “I did?”

“Right before Bradley came out to take out the trash,” Jake says, giving you a meaningful look.

“Ohhh,” you reply, dragging out the word. “The trash.” You nod again, trying to organize all of the information in your presently scrambled brain. “The trash,” you repeat.

“It’s garbage day tomorrow,” Bradley clarifies.

“Right.” You rub your sweaty palms on your thighs. “Garbage day.”

“And then you just” – Bradley makes a motion with his arm to indicate that you toppled over like a tree might fall when it’s chopped down, and you eye him thoughtfully, doubting your collapse was that dramatic. “You're lucky Seresin was here to catch you. You could have cracked your head open on the concrete.”

You glance over at Jake who’s keeping an unusually straight face. “So lucky,” you mutter without a hint of sarcasm because you don’t think you’re quite capable of that just yet. Nonetheless, Jake throws you a pointed look.

“You’re home late,” Bradley says casually, but you could tell that he’s concerned. “Did you party a little too hard?”

You furrow your eyebrows at him. “Me?” you ask, amused that he’s the one asking you this question and not the other way around.

“Did you take something?” he asks. “Not judging,” he adds. “Just need to tell the ambulance what you’re on.”

Jake briefly drops his head into his hand, but recovers just as quickly. “I don’t think she’s on anything,” he says quietly.

You give Jake a sour look because the only thing you’re on is four vintage cocktails and an espresso, and he knows it.

Bradley sighs. “Where were you, anyway?” he asks. “That Jake had to go pick you up?”

You narrow your eyes at your brother and then at your boyfriend, who is expertly avoiding your gaze. Clearly, he’s decided that Bradley is not equipped to handle two calamities in the same evening. “I was on a date,” you state contemptuously.

Jake stares at you rigidly while Bradley cringes. “I'm guessing it didn’t end well?”

You press your lips together irritably. “You could say that.”

Jake rolls his eyes and stands up. “Ambulance is here,” he says just as the ambulance pulls up and two paramedics rush up your driveway.

“Fuck,” you mutter. “You guys actually called an ambulance?”

“We thought you died,” Jake replies curtly.

You look up at the back of his head as he waves over the medics. “Maybe check for a pulse next time,” you say, your ability to utilize sarcasm apparently restored.

…

After you are thoroughly checked out and given the okay to stay home for the night, you trudge tiredly to the living room couch, Jake and Bradley hot on your heels.

“You should go to bed,” Jake says as you plop down into the cushions. “You need to rest.”

You close your eyes, sinking further into the cushions with a groan. “I won’t make it,” you respond, feeling the exhaustion as if it were a physical thing weighing you down.

Bradley places his hands on his hips. “Jake’s right, you need to get some sleep.”

“I am,” you whisper, your eyelids heavier than they've ever been.

“I’ve got an early day,” Bradley says apprehensively, as though he doesn’t want to leave.

“Go on, I’ll stay with her,” Jake says.

Bradley waits a beat, considering the offer, and then turns to look at his friend. “Thanks, man.” Bradley replies, giving Jake a pat on the shoulder. “I appreciate it.”

Jake nods without looking him in the eye and, once Bradley is upstairs, he approaches you slowly. He takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch.

You open your eyes about halfway, watching him warily. “I don’t think it’s contagious,” you murmur.

Jake doesn’t laugh. Instead, he eyes you grimly from his corner of the couch.

“Why aren’t you talking?” you ask, getting a little nervous because Jake isn’t normally the quiet type.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes and then squeezes his eyes shut and brings his hands up to his face. He pulls in a lungful of air, and then another. And then he lets out a sob.

You open your eyes all the way and even lift your head up off the cushion slightly. “Are you crying?”

Jake inhales sharply again and then releases an unsteady breath. He rubs the moisture from his eyes away roughly and lets out another sigh. “You scared the shit out of me,” he mutters, his voice just barely above a whisper. His glistening eyes finally meet yours.

You stare at him. “Did you actually think I died?”

“I’ve never seen anybody faint before,” he admits.

“You’ve seen planes being shot out of the sky,” you remind him. Surely this can’t have been more traumatic than his job.

Jake gapes at you. “Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.”

You grimace. “Eww. You don’t have to be so graphic.”

Jake chuckles and sniffles. “I’ve never been more terrified in my life.”

You drop your gaze into your lap. “Is that why you didn’t tell him?”

Jake sighs and brings a fist to his mouth. “What would I say, Baby B? ‘Hey, by the way, I’m dating your sister and she’s so stressed out about it that she’s fallen unconscious on the doorstep?’ Sorry, bro?”

You pout sullenly. “That’s not why I passed out.”

“Are you sure?” he asks. “Because if I’m the reason –”

“You’re not the reason,” you assure him, although you’re fairly certain he hit the nail right on the head.

Jake releases another heavy sigh. “I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

You close your eyes and rest the back of your head on the cushion once more. “Okay, Seresin,” you respond calmly. “But, if you don’t, I will.”

Jake slides closer to you on the couch and puts his arm above your head. You lift it slightly so that he could tuck his arm underneath, and then you let him pull you in. Falling asleep in this kind of embrace is all you’ve ever wanted since you met him but, alas, this moment feels less than magical.

…

The following morning, you’re startled awake by an obnoxious grinding sound that gradually turns to a sort of whirring. Bradley is in the kitchen making his morning shake. You glance around the room because you’re alone on the couch.

“Is Jake gone?” you call out to your brother.

“Good morning to you too,” Bradley calls back and then walks into the living room holding two shakes. “Made you breakfast.”

You cringe at the green liquid in the glass. “I prefer to chew my food.”

“Well, you’re in luck then,” he says. “Because the blender’s busted so this might be a little chunky.”

You hold back a gag. “Thanks,” you croak, taking the glass from Bradley’s hand as he sits on the couch at your feet.

“Sleep well?” he asks, taking a large gulp of his shake.

“I think so,” you respond, propping yourself up on a throw pillow and taking a sip. “This isn’t so bad, actually.”

Bradley shoots you a self-satisfied look. “I put Nutella in yours.”

You smile at him. “Sorry for the scare.”

Bradley watches you silently for a moment before taking another swig of his breakfast. “I’m concerned, Y/N.”

You sit up straighter. “I’m fine now.”

Bradley shakes his head. “I’m talking about Jake.”

You blink at him innocently while your guts twist in on themselves with dread. “What about Jake?”

“Have you noticed anything off about him lately?” he asks.

“Uh.” You gulp, stalling. “Not really. Have you?”

Bradley sighs. “He’s just been sort of…I dunno. Weird.”

“How so?” you ask, even though you know exactly how so. No doubt Bradley has taken note of Jake’s sudden disinterest in women and it strikes him as odd, considering his history.

“That chick he was dating, remember the one we teased him about? I’m pretty sure he’s still with her,” he says.

You take a long sip of your drink before responding. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I’m not sure,” he says. “I just have a bad feeling about it.”

You glance up at him nervously. “Why?”

Bradley meets your gaze with a defeated expression. “She’s changing him.”

You are far too guilt-ridden to keep looking your brother in the eye, so you drop your gaze to instead study the puke-green color of your shake. “For the worse?” you ask quietly.

Bradley sighs. “I can’t tell.”

You bite your lip, trying not to frown too hard. “He shouldn’t have to change,” you say.

Bradley nods slowly. “That’s what I was thinking.” You swallow another chunky mouthful of your breakfast shake as Bradley rises from the couch. “You should get some more sleep,” he says. “I’ll see you after work.”

As Bradley shuffles about the kitchen, you contemplate your relationship with Jake, wondering if Bradley might be right. You fell for Jake long before he became boyfriend material and there are qualities about him you wouldn’t change for the world. But have there been things that you’ve tried to correct? Have you been unwittingly changing him? Shaping him into something he was never meant to be?

As you sit there in thought, Jake walks through the front door with a paper bag and a tray of coffees. “I brought breakfast!” he calls when Bradley peeks his head out of the kitchen.

“Thank god,” you mutter, setting down your half-drunk shake.

Bradley gives you a look. “I heard that.”

You purse your lips to hide a grin. “I’m hungry!”

“I fed you!” Bradley exclaims.

“I’m hungry for real food, not plants,” you whine.

Jake enters the living room proudly. “Real food, coming right up,” he declares.

“Oh my god, I love you!” you exclaim.

Jake’s hand freezes in midair as he’s about to set down his offering on the coffee table. You meet his gaze in alarm, realizing what you’d just said. What you’d just admitted. Meanwhile, Bradley strolls into the living room, humming a tune, as oblivious as ever.

Your heart pounds in your chest as Jake slowly lowers the bag onto the table, his eyes still locked on yours. “I made you breakfast,” Bradley says, sticking his hand into the bag to retrieve a wrapped bagel. “But him, you love.” Bradley proceeds to unwrap his bagel. “I see how it is,” he says after taking a bite.

You swallow around a giant lump in your throat, suddenly not remotely hungry. “I…” you start, your voice wavering uncontrollably. “I… love food,” you conclude.

Bradley raises his eyebrows. “You were talking to the bagels?”

You notice Jake suck in his cheeks as he tries not to laugh.

You nod vehemently, feeling like you might just faint again. “Can you pass me one?” You reach your hand out, ignoring Jake’s face completely as he hands you a bagel.

“Alright, kids,” Bradley says. “I’m out.” He starts for the door but, just before leaving, he calls out, “Behave.”

The sound of the door closing behind him makes you severely nauseated, because it directly precedes the moment you have to face Jake. You glance up at him slowly as he digs his own bagel out of the bag. Finally, his eyes meet yours. “’Sup, Baby B?” he says nonchalantly, and you can tell that he’s prepared to overlook the slip if you are. For all he knows, it was a completely innocent statement and meant nothing at all.

But you know otherwise. And perhaps it’s the residual stress or the lack of sleep, or perhaps it’s the fear that your brother might be right about your influence over Jake, but you suddenly feel compelled to tell him. You suddenly feel like he has a right know. “I wasn’t talking to the bagels,” you blurt out.

Jake glances up at you in surprise. He gives you a small smile. “You don’t say,” he responds wryly.

You let out an impatient sigh, annoyed that he’s being so flippant. “I’m being serious.”

Jake nods. “Oh, I know. You were talking to the coffee, obviously.” He tries to hand you a cup.

“Jake!” you exclaim. “Stop being an idiot! I’m telling you I love you!”

Jake sets the cup down and blinks at you with a small, wonderstruck smile, like he can’t quite believe that you’ve said it again. “You mean it?” he asks.

You stare at him wide-eyed, alarmed that that’s all he’s got to say. But it’s not as if you can take it back now. You nod hesitantly.

Jake straightens his back and grimaces, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

You watch him in outrage. His reluctance to engage on account of your brother is no longer cute. You attempt to compose yourself, to hide the pain your face might otherwise betray. You rise from the couch in silence and begin to walk away.

“No��� – Jake starts, catching you by the arm before you’ve even cleared the coffee table – “that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.”

You yank your arm out of his grasp, but he just takes your waist instead. “Let go!” you shout, twisting away, and Jake immediately releases you, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Wait,” he pleads desperately.

“Wait for what?” you yell. “For you to finish freaking out?”

Jake looks like he might be on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“I wasn’t looking for you to say it back,” you declare. “But I admit that I was hoping for a more considerate acknowledgement.”

Jake takes a step toward you. “Can I touch you again?” he asks, holding his hands about six inches away from either of your arms.

“No,” you respond stubbornly, not looking him in the eye.

Jake sighs, bringing his hands up to his eyes and sliding them bleakly down his face. “Do you really think I would have ever done this if I wasn’t already in love with you?”

You glance up at him, still frowning. “Done what?” you ask quietly.

Jake furrows his eyebrows. “Can I please touch you?”

You press your lips together to keep them from quivering and nod your head.

Jake put his palms on either side of your face and takes another step toward you so that he could rest his forehead over yours. “I’m sorry I’m an idiot,” he says.

You let out a shallow sigh, wondering if perhaps you’ve overreacted. “You don’t have to apologize for being yourself,” you respond glumly.

Jake snorts. “Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, feeling your mouth stretch into a tiny smile despite your irritation.

Jake brushes his thumbs across your cheeks. “I loved you before I even realized I liked you.”

You meet his gaze skeptically. “That seems improbable.”

Jake grins. “Ever the romantic.”

You roll your eyes as his hands fall to your shoulders.

“I never would’ve gone there with you – kissed you, lied to Bradley” – Jake frowns slightly. “Never in a million years, Baby B. If I didn’t know without a shadow of a doubt that I was in love with you.”

You gaze up at him, justifiably speechless. The fact that he didn’t make a move until he was absolutely certain sets your heart aflutter. You squeeze yourself into him and mutter sheepishly, “So, you love me back, then?”

Jake chuckles and wraps his arms around you tightly. “You’re unbelievable,” he says. “Of course I fucking love you back.”

Hangman Tag List:

A/N: The rest of the list will be in the comments. As always, let me know if you don't want to be tagged anymore.

@atarmychick007

@callsign-sunshine

@shanimallina87

@wkndwlff

@thefandomimagines

@lunamoonbby

@xoxabs88xox

@desert-fern

@averyhotchner

@hiireadstuff

@teacupsandtopgun

@lilyevanswhore

@sarcasm-n-insomnia

@avengers-fixation

@malindacath

@maddievevo

@widemiffyhappy

@dempy

@djs8891

@pono-pura-vida

@phoenix1388

@teaminator

@rascallyrascals

@kmc1989

@drakelover78

@hangmanscoming

@seitmai

@sky2nd

@mrseans90

@wretchedmo

@trashlandqueen

@dylanodaddie

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@chewymoustachio

@itsizzythebell

@marvelshoney

@sarcastic-sourwolf

@extremelyexhaustedpigeon

@goldtrashbag

@livthelazywriter

@uhmellamoanna

@evansqueen54

@localfluffsupplier

@xsecretsirenx

@jtheteenagewitch

@just-a-blue-nerd

@unattainablesillygoose

@erinnn-brry

@thedonswife13

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

[seitmai]

“Just the night in general. I knew everyone would love you, but I really think Thor wants to be your big brother now,” Bucky replied. You wanted it so badly to be endearing, but Thor was dangerous. He mentioned a father-in-law. How exactly did he find his wife? And bringing up the flower donations to the hospital. Bucky seemed upset. Why? “Which he’ll have to fight Steve for.”

They are very eager, maybe a little too much to "get" a little sister 🫣

His laughter died off quickly when he reached out and gently took your hand again, prying your fingers away from your palm. You didn’t notice it stung from your nails until he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You think we’re bullies?” He asked against your skin. “Yes. Besides nearly beating that jerk to death, you do realize that you use force and threats to dominate and intimidate. That’s a form of bullying, Bucky,” you said. Was he deliberately being obtuse or was he lost in his delusion that this was all normal?

Someone had to tell them lol

“I wouldn’t say we’re bullies. I call it protecting and keeping what’s mine,” he said. There was no shame on his end. “Right. Because I’m a possession and not a person,” you said, your face scrunching up as you tried not to cry. You needed rest. If part of Bucky’s plan was to wear you down by overwhelming you, mission accomplished. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.”

This is not going well🥴

You could scream until your lungs gave out that you didn’t belong with him and you knew in your heart he’d argue until his last breath that you did. He was steadfast in that belief that you were soulmates. That conviction was so strong that what you really feared was that he would somehow convince you that he was right: that you belonged together.

😬😬😬

He was a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let that go. “Why don’t you just take a photo of me giving you the finger?” You suggested as he helped you out of the car. “Only if you do it with a smile. I’ll even set it as the background on my phone,” he winked. Your reluctance and defiance of him didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And if you give me the finger, I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to fuck me.”

Puhh he really just sees or hearswhat he wants to see or hear 🥴

“Your past boyfriends never did anything for you. Emotionally, physically,” he stated, sliding his hands under the nightgown to your hips. Grasping the hem of your pants, he pushed them down as far as he could. “I’ll bet they didn’t even buy you flowers and used the excuse that they didn’t because you’re a florist.” The words were tiny cuts on old wounds, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “And you will?” “I will. I’ll give you the life and love you deserve, making you forget any other man out there existed before me.” His eyes raked over you as you stepped out of your pants, your panties still soaked. “But I’m not gonna fuck you.”

He knows exactly how to push her buttons

A couple of deep breaths and you made your way back to your bedroom. You paused when you saw Bucky holding a framed photo of you and your friends, longing in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “You look so happy,” he murmured, carefully setting the frame down on the nightstand before he pulled the blankets back for you. “Can you do me one favor and I’ll go?” “I was happy. It was a fun day.” You slipped into bed when he gave you space to do so, but his body was still close to yours. Firm. Hard. He really could pin you down and do what he wanted if he wished. “What’s the favor?” He tucked the blanket around you, his hair falling into his face. You almost reached up to brush it back, but refrained. Who knew what your touch would do? “Look at me like you love me. Please.”

Geez, what a request to end the day 🫣

Hold You Tight: Part 9

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 8 | Series Masterlist | Part 10

Chapter Summary: Bucky takes you home, but will he keep his hands to himself?

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.7k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, dirty talk, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and thank you for your patience! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought you heard the men wish you well once more when Bucky led you out of the office. You weren’t completely sure since you tried to block everything out, but attempting to disassociate wouldn’t exactly do you any good. The night wasn’t over yet and you had to stay sharp. You didn’t know what Bucky had planned for when he got you home. Were you prepared at all?

Not in the least.

You half expected to walk back through the front of the club to leave, but Ray directed you to a door near the back once he gave Bucky a nod. The car was waiting in the alley and you took a moment to glance up at the sky. You could only make out one star and you wished in that moment you could grow wings and fly away. But when did wishing upon a star do you any good?

“Let’s get you back to your place,” Bucky said, helping you into the car.

You had to give him credit for trying to keep up his end of the bargain by getting you home on time. Your body refused to relax though once he sat beside you and took your hand. Was he trying to get you accustomed to his touch? Make you crave him? It bothered you that in spite of your determination he drew you in to a certain degree. But you wouldn’t let him take you to bed tonight. You weren’t ready to cross that inevitable line.

Maybe, just maybe, if your performance in bed disappointed him, he’d get bored and walk away. The thought almost made you laugh. That wasn’t happening. If anything, he’d probably love teaching you how to be his perfect lover.

“I think tonight went well,” Bucky smiled.

“Which part exactly?” You mumbled, pulling your hand away. The part where he forced you to go, how his men all but admitted they knew Bucky stalked you, or how they beat the hell out of a man?

“Just the night in general. I knew everyone would love you, but I really think Thor wants to be your big brother now,” Bucky replied. You wanted it so badly to be endearing, but Thor was dangerous. He mentioned a father-in-law. How exactly did he find his wife? And bringing up the flower donations to the hospital. Bucky seemed upset. Why? “Which he’ll have to fight Steve for.”

“Fighting. You guys seem to excel in that arena,” you said, remembering how they all took turns beating up John. “But I guess Steve does have a bit of that ‘big brother’ vibe, helping you take total control of my life and whatnot.”

“Not total control. I’m still letting you work, but maybe I can buy the shop.” He chuckled at your thunderous expression. The light threat had you seeing red. “I probably shouldn't joke about that, should I?”

“Letting me work? Like it’s your decision? And don’t you dare buy the shop.” You pushed at him to keep from slapping him when he chuckled again. Not with enough force to get him far away from you, but you needed some sort of space in the vehicle. He also needed a good hit over the head. “You’re a bully, do you know that? So are your friends.”

His laughter died off quickly when he reached out and gently took your hand again, prying your fingers away from your palm. You didn’t notice it stung from your nails until he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You think we’re bullies?” He asked against your skin.

“Yes. Besides nearly beating that jerk to death, you do realize that you use force and threats to dominate and intimidate. That’s a form of bullying, Bucky,” you said. Was he deliberately being obtuse or was he lost in his delusion that this was all normal?

“I wouldn’t say we’re bullies. I call it protecting and keeping what’s mine,” he said. There was no shame on his end.

“Right. Because I’m a possession and not a person,” you said, your face scrunching up as you tried not to cry. You needed rest. If part of Bucky’s plan was to wear you down by overwhelming you, mission accomplished. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“You’re a person, not a possession, Kotyonok. And not just a person, a good person who gives so much of herself to others. And probably one of the only people who rightfully calls me out on my shit.” His response drew you up short. “Outside of my friends, no one else does that.”

“Maybe because they’re afraid of you and what you can do,” you said after a moment. Fear could make anyone say what they thought people wanted to hear. “Either that or they want your approval,” you added, which you could also understand to a point. People wanted a sense of belonging, especially with those who had influence and power.

“Maybe they are afraid,” he agreed, brushing his lips against your palm again with a sigh. “What is it about me that scares you most?”

“I’m not really sure exactly,” you admitted. There was so much about the situation that terrified you. What he was capable of. How he inserted himself into various aspects of your life and so quickly. How far he was willing to go to keep you. “But I think it’s your conviction. That you’re so sure that I’m your other half and no one can convince you otherwise, not even me.”

You could scream until your lungs gave out that you didn’t belong with him and you knew in your heart he’d argue until his last breath that you did. He was steadfast in that belief that you were soulmates. That conviction was so strong that what you really feared was that he would somehow convince you that he was right: that you belonged together.

Those steel blue eyes of his met yours and mesmerized you for a heartbeat before you looked away. “Love is scary. It’s natural to be afraid of it.” His lips brushed your ear, making you shiver. “But giving someone the most fragile parts of yourself is one of the bravest things a person can do.”

There was truth in his words, but it felt like he moved another chess piece into place. He was trying to disarm you and you couldn’t let him. “Who painted that black dahlia in your office?” You asked suddenly, feeling him move back enough that you could turn your head toward him. “And why display that flower?” You didn’t believe for a second that he chose it for aesthetic purposes.

“Beautiful, isn't it? Steve painted it,” he replied with an odd mixture of affection and bitterness. “It’s for my parents.”

“Steve is a gifted artist.” You hoped your voice stayed even enough that Bucky wouldn’t get jealous of you complimenting another man’s talent. “I don't know if the symbolism of flowers mean anything to you, but the black dahlia-”

“Betrayal. Sadness. Darkness,” he ticked off, his voice cold enough that another shiver moved through your body. “It was the last flower my dad ever got my mom and it serves as a reminder.”

You swallowed as warning bells sounded in your mind to tread carefully. “And what's that?”

He moved close, your eyes shutting as his hand wrapped around the nape of your neck. “That I'll never do to you what he did to her.”

There was suppressed rage within him. Sorrow. It rolled off him in waves strong enough that they could drown you. He said earlier that his dad got what he deserved. What had he done to his mom?

“You’re in pain,” you whispered. He was hurting and you logically shouldn’t care. So why did you want to know the cause of that hurt? “You have to tell me why.”

It wasn’t for you to use to your advantage. You weren’t sure if you could manipulate someone else. If you knew what happened though, it would at least give you more answers to who Bucky was and why he was the way he was. It could help you gain some sort of understanding.

“I’m not in pain when I’m with you,” he whispered, bringing your hand on his chest. Was he relying on you to chase away whatever haunted him? “Later. I’ve overwhelmed you enough for one evening.”

You let out a breath. You swore he was doing this on purpose, giving you just enough information that you’d wait around until he gave you more. “I can’t argue with you there,” you said, his heart racing under your touch. “Just answer one thing for me, please.”

“What’s that?”

“Marc from the bookstore,” you began, the man’s kind face shimmering in your mind. “Did anything happen to him?”

“I’d question another man being on your mind, but I know you’re just concerned about his well-being.” An easy smile crossed Bucky’s face as you bit your tongue. You could think about anyone you wanted to. “I can’t speak for him right this second, but he was perfectly fine when you and I left. He was just having a chat with one of my associates.”

You exhaled, thankful Marc wasn't hurt. “What kind of chat?” You asked. He was a nice guy, though he did seem to know a bit about Bucky. What exactly was he involved in?

“He just got a warning to be careful about what he does or doesn’t say to his customers.” You tensed before he kissed your forehead. Did he know about the conversation you two had? “And I don’t think the two of you should be alone with each other in the bookstore going forward.”

Just when Bucky had you feeling some sort of sympathy for him moments ago he shocked you right out of it. “Another decision that isn’t yours to make,” you stated, the car coming to a stop. “And you really don’t have to walk me up. I think we’ve had enough of each other’s company tonight.”

“I said I’m tucking you into bed and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” The smile he gave you was nothing short of cocky when he added, “And you owe me a photo. I’m going to get it.”

He was a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let that go. “Why don’t you just take a photo of me giving you the finger?” You suggested as he helped you out of the car.

“Only if you do it with a smile. I’ll even set it as the background on my phone,” he winked. Your reluctance and defiance of him didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And if you give me the finger, I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to fuck me.”

“Let’s go, please.”

You said nothing else as you went into the building, your anxiety mounting by the second. The slow rise of the elevator didn’t help, Bucky’s hip pressed against yours like he couldn’t stand to have space between you. You figure he’d shove you against the wall and claim your mouth, but he didn’t make a move. It impressed you that he behaved until you got to your floor. It didn’t stop your hand from shaking when you got your keys out.

“Still don’t want to say good night now?”

“I don’t want to say good night at all,” he answered, following you into the apartment and turning on the light. The welcoming feeling you expected when you got home wasn't there. There was a chill in the usual warmth.

“Well, you’ll have to sooner or later,” you said, swallowing when you faced Bucky. He shut the door and watched intently as you set your keys and bag down. You were quiet as you stared back, tension thick as you tried to predict what he was going to do. Once again, he managed to hold all the power in your home.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He asked, heat and hunger in his stare as he slowly advanced.

Your throat went dry as you stepped back. “You have.”

“So beautiful and so good.” You made another move to retreat when he stepped forward, his manner confident and compelling as he reached out and prevented you from moving back further. “It’s driving me crazy not having you yet.”

“Please, you don’t…” you trailed off when he sank to his knees, unexpected heat flowing from your core. He guided one of your hands to his shoulder to brace yourself, his eyes soft as he helped remove one of your shoes. You found it difficult to breathe as he removed the other, his hand brushing your ankle with infinite tenderness. Like it was an honor to touch and be on his knees for you.

“I know the first time I taste you I’ll never want to stop. I’ll have to wake up every day between your thighs. Fall asleep that way, too.” His hand slid up your calf and his eyes darkened when your other hand found its way to his thick locks. Wetness gathered between your legs when his touch moved to your thigh. “Your pussy is hungry for me, isn’t it? My fingers, my tongue, my cock. I’ll feed her well.”

His voice was like velvet. Seductive. Aching. “Bucky…” Your breath rushed out swiftly when he kissed your mound through your clothes, tormenting you with arousal you didn’t ask for. It frightened you.

“I can smell you,” he murmured, nosing along where his lips had been before he sat back. “Smell so fucking good.”

Moving your shoes out of the way, he rose to his full height again as you willed your legs not to shake. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you, let alone speak to you, the way he did. Stark desire. Possessiveness. His form of love. Your heart pounded and you refused to answer him or glance down. If you looked at the front of his pants…

He took your hand and pulled you in the direction of the bedroom. Your heart pounded with mounting speed, your heels digging into the floor. “You still haven't kissed me,” you blurted out, hoping it would prevent him from taking you to bed. Or would he take that as an invitation to kiss your lips?

“No, I haven't.” You tried to keep some distance between you as he went to your bed, his hand moving along the blanket. You couldn't breathe. “It scares you how much your body wants mine, doesn’t it?”

“Is that what you think?” You asked, forcing air back into your lungs. It did scare you. It also scared you that you didn’t push him away or scream when he dropped to his knees to remove your shoes. Where was your fighting instinct?

“It is what I think.” The ease in which he moved away from the bed to your dresser to find your pajamas frightened you, too. Like he belonged in your room. You thought back to the night he broke in and left your gift on your bed. How much time did he take to look around? “Like love, giving your body to someone can be scary. You have to trust that you won't get hurt when you’re physically vulnerable.”

“You swore you wouldn't hurt me,” you reminded him.

“And I won't. But you know what else I think?” His magnetic gaze stayed on you as he brought a nightgown over. “That no guy has ever really taken care of you and you’re apprehensive to let me try.”

If you were apprehensive, it was because he was a walking red flag. “What makes you…” Your words stopped when he grasped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up. Your arms instinctively went up before you realized what you were doing. Removing your shirt, you didn’t get a chance to cover your breasts before he slipped the nightgown on you.

“Your past boyfriends never did anything for you. Emotionally, physically,” he stated, sliding his hands under the nightgown to your hips. Grasping the hem of your pants, he pushed them down as far as he could. “I’ll bet they didn’t even buy you flowers and used the excuse that they didn’t because you’re a florist.”

The words were tiny cuts on old wounds, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “And you will?”

“I will. I’ll give you the life and love you deserve, making you forget any other man out there existed before me.” His eyes raked over you as you stepped out of your pants, your panties still soaked. “But I’m not gonna fuck you.”

Exhaling slowly, relief flooded you. Though you couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t trying to take what he wanted. “You won’t?”

“Not tonight.” He shook his head even as his fingers moved along your waist. “Like I said, I’ve overwhelmed you enough. Sleeping with you might really put you over the edge.”

“Thanks.” He desired you, but continued to hold it at bay for your sake. How long would that last? “I appreciate that.”

“And we both know the moment I take you to bed, you’ll be begging for more.” His voice dropped as he toyed with the soft fabric. “And as much as I want to stay in bed with you all night and morning and give us what we both crave, I still need to get things in place at the penthouse and you need rest. You understand.”

You tried not to smile and failed. He acted as if he was doing you a favor. Cocky bastard. “I guess we’ll just have to suffer until then.” Sarcasm continued to be a good way to deflect.

He exhaled at your light teasing, his body still a bit tense. Being close to you and not having you was probably driving him mad. “Maybe we'll have to have another private call and finish what we started. Give us both some relief.” He turned you toward the door and gave you a light swat on your ass. “Go wash your face and brush your teeth before I change my mind.”

You made it to the bathroom in record time, not having to be told twice. You didn’t want to risk staying there in case he lost his resolve. Looking in the mirror as you went through the rest of your nighttime routine, you expected to look more exhausted from the whirlwind of the day. You somehow looked wide awake. Was the experience giving you thicker skin? Or did his desire for you somehow give you a bit of a twisted spark? You’d still be billing him for your future therapy bills either way.

A couple of deep breaths and you made your way back to your bedroom. You paused when you saw Bucky holding a framed photo of you and your friends, longing in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “You look so happy,” he murmured, carefully setting the frame down on the nightstand before he pulled the blankets back for you. “Can you do me one favor and I’ll go?”

“I was happy. It was a fun day.” You slipped into bed when he gave you space to do so, but his body was still close to yours. Firm. Hard. He really could pin you down and do what he wanted if he wished. “What’s the favor?”

He tucked the blanket around you, his hair falling into his face. You almost reached up to brush it back, but refrained. Who knew what your touch would do? “Look at me like you love me. Please.”

You stiffened as you stared up at his face, your heart simultaneously racing and breaking for him. Love was something that provided a sense of connection, fulfillment. It was a way to show you that you weren’t alone in the world. You wanted to believe you were worthy of love, that you could build a life with someone. Bucky believed he was that someone.

Why?

You weren’t sure if it was his yearning gaze or if you were ready for the night to end, but your expression softened as you imagined meeting him in another life. Going on fun dates, talking about books, making each other laugh as you cooked together, snuggling under a blanket as you talked about your future. You found yourself smiling at the images that went through your mind. What could’ve been. What could be if he lessened his hold a bit on you.

He audibly exhaled when he snapped a photo on his phone, making you blink. “Thank you. Now I can look at this whenever I’m not near you and need to feel your love.”

Words escaped you, the invisible collar around your throat getting tighter. You could only nod and wonder how you kept throwing fuel on the fire of his want for you. Which one of you would burn first?

“Get some sleep. Dream sweet dreams.” You felt featherlight kisses on each eyelid when you shut them. “You know, I’ll sleep a lot easier once you’re in my bed.”

“If you get me into your bed,” you mumbled, refusing to look at him.

“Stubborn kitten.” He chuckled and gave each eyelid one more kiss. Why were his lips so soft? “Maybe I’ll stop by the shop tomorrow so I can take you to lunch. You can tell Addison all about it.”

“Maybe.” You yawned and snuggled more into your pillows. “Good night, Bucky.”

A finger moved along your cheek before it stopped abruptly. “Good night, Kotyonok.”

Bucky still hadn't kissed your mouth.

You didn’t open your eyes as he left, but you didn’t fall asleep right away either. Your body was too wound up. Too many questions went through your mind. Like what happened with his parents and how exactly he’d move you out of your place.

The man was a step ahead in everything. You’d be in his penthouse before the month was over. He’d get his way, but maybe it didn't have to be his way completely. He could give you an area in the place for you and you alone. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. After all, he did say he’d make it up to you by dragging you out tonight.

And if he cared the way he said he did, he could give you that one small thing.

Is our poor Kotyonok starting to accept the inevitable? Will Bucky stop by the shop? And how much longer until he really takes you to bed?Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[verycoolusername1]

Don't think you understand

Summary: Quinn can't get ahold of his feelings, which leads him to push you away unintentionally.

Track 8 of short n' sweet - dumb & poetic

Warning! Slight miscommunication

A/N: This does have a happy ending :) and it's short. I apologize for that!! I just wanted to post something for the short n sweet masterlist(been delaying it)

And I gave you guys a bridgerton love confession kinda so enjoy that lmao

You haven't talked to him in weeks. The man was your best friend and you haven't talked to him in two months, how did this even happen?

Hmm, maybe when you had confessed your feelings to Quinn around the same time, you left without an answer, analyzing the blank look on his face, bringing enough of one for you.

This was your fifth tub of ice cream in two weeks, while on a call with Luke(and Jack, who also joined the supposed gossip session).

"Wait, so let me get this straight." Jack said, collecting his thoughts. "You told him you were in love with him, and he didn't say anything or have any reaction which led to you two not talking anymore?"

"Well, it certainly helps hearing it out loud." You grumbled.

"Sorry! I just need to recap so I know why I have to slap him when I next see him." Jack mutters the last part.

"You know, for him being the oldest, he sure is stupid." Luke chuckles.

"Pretty sure I'm the stupid one here, I mean, I thought he actually liked me back." You smiled Sadly.

"You think he doesn't like you in that way?" Jack asked, you nodded.

"Yeah, no, Quinn's definitely in love with you, Y/N. Have you seen the way he looks at you? The way his eyes seem to shine brighter when he talks about you." Luke shrugged.

"Okay, now you guys are feeding into my delusions." You rolled your eyes. "I lost my best friend because I couldn't control my feelings about him. And now I'm sitting on my kitchen floor, crying to Conan Gray while eating Ben & Jerry's."

There was a sudden knock on your door. Who could that be? It was late in the night in Vancouver.

"I'll be right back guys, don't hang up." You warned.

You walked up to the door and looked through the peephole and saw the man of the house standing on the other side. You unlocked it. How could you not?

"Quinn? What are you doin-?" You were cut off with Quinn kissing you passionately. You melted in the kiss before slowly breaking apart.

"I'm in love with you too." Quinn confessed. "I think I've been in love with you the moment I saw you falling off the swing when we were kids, if I'm being honest. It's very easy to fall in love with someone as special, charming, kind, heartless, caring, and comforting as you. I can't imagine being with anyone else other than you. And I don't even want to think about how sorry I am for not realizing it until now. But I love you Y/N, and I don't think I can ever stop - No, I know that I can't and won't."

Now it your time to be in shock.

"I understand if I'm too late, I just wanted you to know. I'm sorry for kissing you. I just wanted to know what it felt if it was the only time -" You cut Quinn off by kissing him.

"I love you too." You whispered. "Gosh you're so dumb and poetic."

Quinn chuckles. "What does that even mean?" He followed you into the house.

"Y/N!!! Did you get kidnapped? Omg Luke what if we gotta call the cops and tell them what happened and we gotta tell them she was crying about our idiotic brother-"

"Jack shut up." Luke looked at his brother bewildered.

"I'm just saying, could be a possibility." Jack mutters.

"I'm not dead guys." You picked up the phone.

"Y/N! You're alive. What happened? Who was at the door?" Luke asked, Jack chuckling behind him.

"Oh you know just this really hot guy." You answered simply.

"Okay? How hot was he? Is he gonna make you get over Quinn?" Jack asked.

"Very hot and no." You answered.

Quinn came into frame behind you, kissing you on your neck.

Jack and Luke's jaw drops. "No way!" "What the hell?"

"There are children present in this conversation, you guys are disgusting." Jack gestured to Luke who shoved him in response. "I'm 21!"

"Bye guys." Quinn hung up the phone.

"That was rude, you know." You looked back at him.

"I know, I just wanted to kiss you without them bickering." Quinn mumbles.

"And to think I was just crying over you not too long ago." You recalled.

"I'll make up for every tear you shed for my stupidity, I promise." Quinn's nose brushes yours.

"I know you will." You leaned in closer.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Mockingjay - Part 8

Hi guys!

I'm sorry for the wait, I know that usually I give you the chapter on Friday, but I wasn't able to yesterday.

This one is a little darker, please be aware of that while reading it.

TW : Death, blood, injuries, grief.

Chapter before

Ona wakes up abruptly, a hand coming suddenly on her mouth to prevent her from shouting. She still is in the tree where she fell asleep a little earlier, while Teagan was supposed to stand guard. But it’s not him who is looking at Ona with undisguised anger.

It’s Lucy.

Eyes widened; Ona tries to move but Lucy doesn’t let her.

“What’s happening?” Ona whispers, Lucy’s hand always on her mouth.

“Did you kill him?” Lucy whispers-shout.

“What?”

Lucy’s voice is low, full of an anger that Ona doesn’t understand. Just like she doesn’t understand why Lucy is talking about. Ona tries to read more in Lucy’s eyes, but she can’t.

“What are you talking about?” the younger one finally says.

“Declan. Did you kill him?”

“What?” Ona frowns. “No, of course not.”

Lucy is still looking at her, but she finally removes her hand from Ona’s mouth. The latter takes advantage of it to look around them, looking for Teagan. But the young boy is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Teagan?” Ona asks.

But it doesn’t seem to be Lucy’s first interest. She seems so angry; Ona never saw her like this. She won’t say that she’s scared, but she’s definitely impressive like that. The situation is really mind blowing for Ona. She wanted so much to see Lucy one more time, but not like this.

“At the place where the Games began, there is a scoreboard. It says that you killed someone. If it wasn’t Declan, who was it?”

“The boy from the 5” Ona mumbles, not really wanting to remember that awful moment. “He was chasing Teagan at first and then he came back for us. I – I didn’t have any choice.”

Ona shivers and it has nothing to do with the cold. It is cold actually, but with the hoodie she’s wearing and the habit of the temperature, she was okay like this.

Lucy seems to think about Ona’s answer, looking at her while squinting her eyes. She seems furious. Ona can understand because she was pretty close to Declan, but there is no world where Ona could kill him.

“If it’s not you, who was it?”

Ona rolls her eyes and crosses her arms on her chest. Now that the surprise is passed, she has trouble keeping up with the way Lucy is talking to her.

“Your two girlfriends. He was with them at the lake, right? They pushed him in the water. I don’t know what is really inside the water, but he died almost immediately. Then there was this strange fog coming from the lake and I think it’s what killed Lilith too. I was in a house in the city with Teagan, we had time to run away. They were closer to the lake; Lilith didn’t get that chance. I guess Kayla didn’t explain things like this?”

When Lucy always seems to hesitate, Ona stands up a little bit more to face her. She doesn’t know what happened to Lucy for her to have doubts about her like that, but Ona doesn’t like it.

“If you don’t believe me, why don’t you look at the scoreboard? I’m pretty sure you know everything your friends do, don’t you?”

“It doesn’t show the score from the death’s people.”

“How convenient” Ona snorts.

They look at each other for several seconds. Ona feels sad and angry at the same time. She wanted to see Lucy one more time to have a good memory of her, not a fight about something like this.

“Who told you I killed Declan?” Ona asks finally.

“Kayla” Lucy answers only.

Kayla, or the only one of the trios from the lake who survived. It made Ona roll her eyes at the thought. Of course, it’s easier to accuse someone else of her betrayal. It makes Ona sick that Lucy chose to believe Kayla and not her.

She doesn’t know why Kayla was accusing her, though.

“Why would she say that?” Ona frowns softly.

“That is exactly my point.”

That icy tone, again. Ona bites her lips, not knowing what to answer to that. But she doesn’t look away when Lucy looks at her right in the eyes.

“Where is Teagan?” Ona asks again.

“He went to the river for some water. He’s not a very good guard if you want my opinion.”

“At least he believes me” Ona points out.

Lucy opens her mouth to answer but that is at this very moment that they hear someone walking in their direction. Ona could now recognize Teagan’s footsteps easily. She wanted to tell Lucy that it was him, but the older girl hurries to get out of her tree.

“Lucy!” Ona whispers.

She doesn’t hear Lucy’s answer or if she does, she even can’t see her since she jumps off the tree. Ona feels her heart breaking. This talk was worse than anything else in the world. She just has time to recompose her poker face when Teagan arrives.

“Where were you?” Ona asks him.

“I was thirsty. I didn’t think you’d wake up”

“You can’t leave like that” Ona answers maybe a little too harshly. “What if something happens to you and I’m not here?”

“I’m sorry?”

He seems a little surprised by Ona outburst, and the brunette takes a deep breath to calm herself. Teagan isn’t the reason for her fight with Lucy, he doesn’t have to deal with Ona’s bad mood.

“No, I’m sorry” Ona sighs softly. “Just tell me when you leave, okay?”

The young boy nods softly, smiling shyly at Ona. The girl smiles back at him, before looking at the sky. She is bored sitting on that tree to be honest, even if she knows it was what they decided with Alexia. But she doesn’t even know all the arena, even if Teagan gave her some information about it.

“I was thinking that we can make a reserve of food and water and go to the desert, what do you think? They won’t come to look for us there.”

After all, who can say to Ona that Lucy won’t come back with the other tributes? She’s not sure about anything anymore. She doesn’t want to explain to Teagan why she proposes that, but the boy seems happy about that idea. He proposes to go pick up some fruits while Ona goes for more water.

They even take some wood, with the lighter they found and the pan, they are even able to boil some water just in case. Without a second thought, they leave their tree to start walking towards the desert.

“I’m not sure that the starting point will be safe” Ona thinks out loud after several minutes. “Maybe we should take a detour”

Teagan doesn’t discuss this and follows Ona when she decides to stay close to the river during the walk. Lucy went to the starting point; she told her some hours before. Maybe it’s where she is now staying with her teammates. She wonders how many people Seth and Camden have killed since the beginning of the Games.

“Have you heard that?”

Ona frowns and turns in Teagan’s direction. She stops walking, trying to hear what Tegan might have heard.

“Wolves” she whispers after having heard them. “Let’s not stay here, come on.”

Even if she would rather cross the path of a wolf than Camden, she still wants to live as long as possible. They are not close to the mountain or even the snow, but after all no one can force wolves to stay where they are supposed to be. Plus, they might be hungry after several days.

“They seem close” Teagan mumbles, saying out loud what Ona didn’t want to think about.

“It’s okay. When we will be in the desert, they won’t follow us.”

She still walks a little faster though, her ears are attentive to any suspicious noise. Now she’s careful about human and animal sounds. Ona just really hopes that she won’t have to fight against snake or aggressive camels in the desert.

They were out of the forest now. Ona can see the buildings where they start the Games several days before from here. It’s just a long plain now, grass as far as the eye can see. Until she’s finally able to see what looks like some sand after. The bad news is that there is a big land dip between the grass and the sand.

The river falls into it, but Ona can’t hear the sound of the water falling in a lake below or even on the ground. The height must be appalling.

“We need to find a way to cross it” Teagan says.

Ona nods and looks around, but she doesn’t see anything who might help them. No bridge, no branch long enough to go on the other side.

“How deep is that hole?” Teagan asks, leaning a little to have a better view.

“Want to go see it by yourself?”

The male’s voice makes them both turn around and Ona feels her stomach drop. Camden and Seth are in front of them, both looking very scary. Camden has one of his knees hidden behind a big home-made bandage. It’s bloody. Ona doesn’t know who hurt him, but it doesn’t look good.

Just like their life right now.

In an instinctive way, Ona puts her arm in front of Tegan to make him go behind her. She knows it will be hard for her to protect him. Unlike last time, there isn’t any tree for her to hide him.

“Who hurted you, Sweetheart?” Seth asks, coming closer to Ona acting like he wants to touch her face.

“Go away” Ona grumbles, making a move to avoid his touch.

She looks for the knife attached to her backpack, taking it in her hand. She still knows she doesn’t have any chance, especially with two of them in front of her. But she still can hurt them too, making it easier for anyone else to kill them.

Maybe Lucy. By the way, where is she now? Did they kill her?

Her panic quickly goes down again when she reminds herself that she hasn’t heard any canon for a long time now. The last time it was when she killed that boy. She probably is alright.

“Are you really getting ready to fight?” Camden chuckles.

But Ona doesn’t answer. She looks at them with attention, ready to fight the first one who will try his chance. The worst possibility is that they both attack her at the same time, she doesn’t know she’s supposed to escape them in that case.

Unfortunately, that is exactly what happened. They just share a look at one point and run towards Ona and Teagan. It’s the kind of move and understanding coming after having trained it several times.

Teagan screams but Ona doesn’t say anything. Both men are fighting with their bare hands, even if Ona saw that they have weapons. Apparently, they don’t seem to think that they will need it to fight.

She’s not afraid about using her knife herself, protecting Teagan and herself as much as she can. She knows she can’t kill them, but if she hurts them enough, maybe they will have time to run away. Camden is the weaker one because of his injury, so Ona concentrates her attacks on him.

At some point, Teagan manages to escape the brawl, crawling to the backpacks Seth and Camden left on the floor.

But Seth sees him.

“Hey! He’s taking your hammer!” he shouts to Camden.

The boy turns around to look and Ona takes advantage of it to hit him on his injured knee with her knife. Hard.

“Teagan, run!” Ona shouts to the boy, over Camden’s howling of pain.

The hammer makes a metallic sound when Teagan lets it fall on the ground. It must be heavy. Enraged, Camden gives her a massive kick in her stomach while Seth chases Teagan. The hit cuts off Ona’s breath, preventing her from getting up.

Between Camden’s legs, she can see Teagan running, but it looks like he’s coming closer to them again. Ona doesn’t understand his move, until she sees him jumping on Camden’s back. He manages to make him fall, sadly on Ona. Ona can’t retain a whimper of pain.

“Enough! Throw them on the cliff!”

Seth is near them again. He seems to have had enough of this fight, maybe a little ashamed to have been threatened by a girl and a child.

After that, this is a mess of arms, kicks and shouts. Ona and Teagan are fighting for their life.

“Ona!”

Ona can hear Lucy’s voice and her head turns in the direction of the sound automatically. She’s even able to see her for half of a second before being thrown into the void, Teagan next to her.

“No!”

Lucy’s scream would probably have emotionalized every single person on earth, but it’s not Ona’s important point for now.

Ona managed to clutch at a root, several metres from the surface. Teagan didn’t have that chance. Grief burns her throat, and she has tears in her eyes, preventing her from seeing properly.

Her arms are burning too. After all those days without having eaten and slept enough, she doesn’t have the same strength as before.

There are grunts and noise of fights under Ona’s head. It seems like Lucy forgot all the thoughts she has about keeping herself safe with her alliance. Ona tries to ease the burning of her arms and shoulders by pushing on her legs, but the walls are dusty and the more she tries, the more pebbles and sand are falling under her.

She doesn’t want to give up though, wanting to catch Lucy when she falls. And maybe help her to reach the surface again.

But it surprisingly isn’t Lucy who falls almost two metres away from her. It’s Seth. Ona froze, looking at his body falling until she couldn’t see him anymore. Soon after, there are two shots of cannon. 

One for Seth. 

One for Teagan.

“Right, run away to your lying bitch, asshole!”

Lucy’s voice is shaking with what Ona thinks is anger. Ona wants to call the other girl, but she doesn’t have the strength to. She’s not even sure that Lucy is still here anyway.

At least she was able to see her one more time, Ona thinks. And she wasn’t angry this time. Closing her eyes, Ona let her forehead go against the wall. She knows she won’t last long. She just wants to visualise Lucy’s face one more time.

Lucy doesn’t know what pushed her to have a look at the cliff. She didn't realise that there were only two shots of cannon, not three. All she knows is that when she sees Ona, she feels like her heart is starting to beat again.

“Ona” she whispers at first, falling on her knees to see her better before getting into action again. “Ona!” she calls a little harder, not wanting to scare the other girl anyway.

They share a look when Ona raises her hand in her direction and Lucy can say that Ona doesn’t have any strength left.

“Okay, hold on. Hold on, please.”

She doesn’t let Ona answer anything before running to Seth and Camden’s backpack. She knows what is inside, but she doesn’t waste any time, she just flips them upside down to grab the rope she was looking for.

Lucy then runs to the cliff, terrified at the idea of Ona being not here anymore. She is barely holding it. But she is.

“Grab it” Lucy instructs, throwing a part of the rope to Ona.

The younger one wraps it around one of her arms, ignoring the burning against her skin. With her other arm, she grabs it and looks up again.

She can’t see Lucy anymore, but she can feel how much strength she’s putting in the effort to take her on the surface again. Ona feels like it’s taking an eternity and she’s pretty sure that she can feel Lucy’s strength getting low. Just when she wanted to tell her to just let her go, Ona can see grass again.

Ona lets go of the rope with one hand, grabbing the grass and the dirt while she pushes on the wall with her legs. The hope gives her suddenly more strength. With a last combined effort, Lucy and Ona manage to put Ona in security again. Or at least on the ground.

Lying on the ground, Ona tries to take her breath. The sky is grey under their head, and she doesn’t know if her breathing is hard because of Teagan’s death or the efforts she just put her body in.

“We need to move” Ona hears Lucy say. “I’m pretty sure Camden will come back with Kayla. I should have killed her earlier, why was I so stupid!”

While Ona sits, Lucy puts all the things she thinks they will need into a backpack. Teagan’s one having fallen with him.

“Can you walk?”

Ona can see Lucy’s concern in her eyes. She feels out of it, like if her head isn’t with her body anymore. Ona gets up, trying to ignore how her head spins at the movement. She doesn’t even realise that she’s falling, until Lucy catches her, passing her arm around her waist.

“Okay, we’re going to do things in another way.”

Ona looks at Lucy putting a bag on her stomach, before putting the other on Ona's back. Then she makes Ona climb on her back and starts to walk.

“Lucy…” Ona whispers, rocked by Lucy's quick walk.

“Sh. Just take deep breaths and don’t fall asleep, okay?”

Ona just hums, letting her head go into Lucy’s neck. Not falling asleep is harder than she thought. She feels lulled by Lucy’s movements and her scent.

At some point, Ona feels better enough to let the guilt be too big to let Lucy carry her like this for any longer. She kisses Lucy’s neck, smiling softly when she feels the goosebumps under her lips.

“I can walk” Ona finally says.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah”

Lucy stops to slowly put Ona on the ground again. She looks at her closely, looking at any sign that Ona wasn’t feeling good. But Ona does, or at least as much as she can with her injuries.

“Where are we going?”

Ona doesn’t recognize that part of the arena, she never came here before.

“To the mountain. If we get higher, we can see them better.”

Ona nods and lets Lucy grab her hand before starting to walk again. She loses track of time, only concentrating on not falling on a rock. And Lucy’s warm hand in hers. At some point, it starts snowing and Lucy takes them into a cave.

“I saw you had wood in your bag, I’m going to make a fire, okay?”

Ona nods. Lucy choses a part of the cave hidden from the enter, to avoid the wind. And Ona realises it a little later, not to be seen by someone else. Ona just stays here, looking at the light from the fire on the walls. She realises that she’s crying only when Lucy sits next to her.

Lucy puts her hand softly on Ona’s back and it’s enough for the younger one to break.

“I wanted to save him. I just couldn’t” she chokes between tears and sobs.

Teagan’s death is hard to reach for Ona. They spend almost all their time together in the arena. She knew they had only little chance, but in her head, Teagan always would outlive her. She imagined that she would give her life for him.

“Hey now, you did everything you could to save him. You saved him several times before today.”

Lucy’s voice is soft, softer than she ever was.

“It wasn’t enough” Ona whispers through her tears.

“It’s okay” Lucy whispers.

Lucy passes both of her arms around Ona waist, taking her against her to rock her softly. Ona doesn’t really understand the sweet nothing Lucy whispers into her ears while comforting her, to be honest. But Lucy’s voice is enough.

“I’m sorry I arrived too late to save you both” Lucy says at some point, when Ona stops crying. “I thought I was too late for you too”

Her voice is only a whisper now, barely stronger than the crackling of the fire in front of them.

“But then I saw you grabbing this root… I was never as relieved as at that moment. I thought I lost you forever.”

Ona sniffles and raises her head to look at Lucy. Until now she had her head on her shoulder, her eyes lost somewhere on the fire. She must look awful but Lucy cups her cheek with the most tender gesture ever and uses her thumb to wipe Ona’s tears.

“Even if I were dead, you wouldn’t have lost me.” Ona whispers.

Into Lucy’s eyes, Ona forgets everything. She forgets her injuries, her stomach who hurts like crazy. The grief of Teagan’s death and the fact that they now have mortal enemies, probably looking for them everywhere.

“My parents aren’t okay with me being gay” Lucy blurts suddenly. “That is why Jorge was the only one who came to say goodbye. They were ashamed of me being their daughter.”

“How can someone be ashamed of you?” Ona thinks out loud, before shaking her head softly. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I’m going to kiss you.”

And she does. They haven’t kissed for days now, the last time it was before the Games. The kiss is tentative, Lucy’s hand always on Ona’s cheek. But it’s enough to make Ona melts.

Ona presses her body against Lucy after several seconds, but the pain of her injuries are waking up. She can’t help but groan in pain, making Lucy let go of her very quickly.

“It’s nothing” Ona assures when she crosses Lucy’s panicked eyes. “I think I have some bruises somewhere.”

After that, Lucy looks closely at Ona for the first time. She already had seen her face and eyes injured earlier, when they talked in the tree. But now she can see the burns on Ona’s arms, where the rope was.

And of course, Ona took some violent kicks from her fight with Camden and Seth.

“I saw that you had some cream in your backpack, could they be used to those injuries?” Lucy asks.

“I don’t know. I received it from the sponsors, after my face’s injury.”

Lucy hums, reaching for it. Ona gives it to her, looking at Lucy who sniffs it.

“Mh. Maybe we will use it just to your face, just in case.”

Ona nods. She doesn’t want to die because she puts the wrong cream at the wrong place on her body. She wanted to take it back from Lucy’s hand, but the dark-haired girl hides it behind her back.

“Close your eyes” she says.

Ona rolls her eyes and obliges, letting Lucy put the cream on her face. She is soft and tender, and Ona feels her body relax a little bit at the touch. She could sleep right now.

“Who hurts you like this?”

It reminds Ona about Seth’s question earlier, but this time there is no fun behind it. It’s just genuine concern.

“The boy from the 5. I can’t remember his name.”

“Is he the one you killed?”

“Yeah”

Lucy stays silent after this, still taking care of Ona. She insists on seeing Ona’s other injuries, making the girl roll her eyes again. Lucy cleans Ona’s burning on her hand and puts some cold water on her stomach, where she got kicked by Camden.

“Now sleep” Lucy finally says when she’s fine with the care she gave to Ona.

Ona frowns and opens her mouth to talk, but Lucy silences her by putting a finger on her lips.

“Sleep. I’ll take care of you.”

“Wake me up in four hours if I’m still asleep” Ona asks.

“Sure” Lucy snorts.

She won’t do it; they both know it already. But Lucy only has to stroke Ona’s hair for two minutes before the girl is out of the world, feeling really safe for the first time since she left her District.

“This is the first time we are sleeping together” Ona mumbles into Lucy’s knee when she snuggles against her.

Lucy hums, still stroking Ona’s hair. She has a lot to ask to Ona, just like Ona probably has a lot to ask at her. They will talk tomorrow. Tomorrow it will be them against the rest of the world, but for now, Ona needs to rest.

[mangodestroyer]

Right! Yeah, as a biological creature myself, I haven't experienced much of the reproductive drive myself. Idk if I'm on the ace spectrum or just don't find people who I personally find attractive very often. Also heard that it's normal for mammals to not be driven in this way when they are stressed/traumatized. That could also explain some things...

I'm maybe projecting my lack of interest in having kids onto Aziraphale and Crowley. I mean... NG used to say that they weren't biological creatures and were infertile. That made me so JEALOUS! But I'm also realizing that NG is unreliable when it comes to GO world-building... I've always found his input confusing and sometimes even bland? Such as Crowley not actually being a snek? Not sorry, that is one hill I'm always going to DIE on! Am I the only one bothered by this?

Anyway, yeah. Now that you point it out... where did the anti-Christ come from? Satan is his father after all... idk. I thought that happened through magic or "God's will" or something. Idk how things work with Christianity. I wasn't raised with the Bible and never went to church (my parents are atheists and I grew up going to a Native American school), so I'm still learning a LOT about its cultural influences. Um... I suppose I have heard of Bible stories where Demons had offspring with humans to create horrible monsters? Or undercover angels getting "frisky" with the humans as a part of their "mission?" Is that a part of the lore?

I mean... I'm not opposed to the idea of Crowley and Aziraphale having kids ig. But if they are... I personally want it to be weird because they're supernatural and Crowley is LITERALLY a monster. Like, what, does Crowley have a clutch sometimes? Is reproduction done through magic? Do they do weird interdimensional things? The idea of Maggie being their great-granddaughter works. Close enough to still bear a resemblance. I've been told I sort of look like a great-grandparent. Said great-grandparent had auburn hair, greyish eyes (the green in my eyes is very grey), and a very similar facial structure. Apparently, I inherited those "adorable" apple cheeks from her.

As someone on the spectrum, I relate to them tbh. I feel removed from the human experience as well! I can also do math and shit... which is sorcery to a surprising number of people I've met throughout my life? And am also good at memorizing books? Some of my senses are also heightened... but I feel blind/disabled compared to other humans in many different ways too! But they sometimes also seem oblivious to things that feel like instinct to me. That's probably what life is like for Aziraphale and Crowley... especially Crowley! I mean... does anyone ever think about how an interdimensional snek perceives the world? He CLEARLY seems to be able to perceive things in peculiar ways that Aziraphale and biological creatures can't. He's also able to use miracles in ways that other celestial beings can't and has a strong visual imagination that helps him manipulate human technology/ideas. He seems like he could be the autistic version of a celestial being, tbh. It's probably part of why he fell.

Isopraxism

Isopraxism aka Limbic Synchrony aka Mirroring: Intuitive, instinctual, human brain process whereby humans unconsciously mirror the speech patterns, postures, and/or expressions of those with whom they connect and often spend time. Similar behavior exists in the animal kingdom. In a human relationship, especially deep friendships and romantic relationships, it is a sign of firm trust, deep connection and understanding, and a strong, emotional bond.

Example:

Crowley's "well" + Eyebrows expression, seen in multiple scenes, is one of his default responses, yes? We see it in Eden, like below, and in The Dirty Donkey in S2 and even when Crowley does it in while in Aziraphale's body during the body swap.

This Crowley default response is just the kind of expression and speech pattern that a trusted partner might unconsciously pick up after years of time spent bonding with him...

...which is why it's not surprising when Aziraphale, praying in S1, suddenly "well" + Eyebrows...

[hiraethwrote]

VENT SESSION LETS GOOOO — you’re allowed to scroll if you don’t care mwah

i spend an ungodly amount of hours on this app, and i look at you as my friends so just want to let you guys know

i am also a very nosy person myself, so seems only fair i share my own situation. but if you don’t care about all this, you can just keep scrolling. i honestly don’t mind lol

anyways… a few weeks ago, i told you guys i was going through something that was kinda heavy — yeah my bf and i were going through some stuff and started seeing someone professionally… we broke up

there was an understanding that this might be outcome when we first opened up this can of worms, and there turned out to be a lot of underlying issues that both of us had refused to acknowledge

it was definitely a mutual decision. though it’s a hard pill to swallow, we came to the conclusion it was the best for the both of us

we want such vastly different things in life, things neither of us should compromise on. to me, life came at me a lot faster than i anticipated and felt like there were things left unexplored — and neither of us want to hold the other person back from what we want

however, this is a person i have been with for six years, a quarter of my life. there’s obviously a lot of shared history which is hard to let go of. it’s also so incredibly painful when we’re not splitting due to lack of affection and love for the other person, but because our desires and wants in life just don’t align

he is still my best friend, and because of how our life situation is, we will continue living together as we have been doing for the past three years (he only lives here half the time due to work), until i move across the country when summer comes. we’re also going to celebrate christmas together because it just feels right lol

i would say i am doing as well as i can… we are obviously on good terms, but this is probably one of the hardest things i’ll go through. it is the biggest heartbreak of my life. but that is really just a sign that the time we’ve shared together haven’t been a waste. we can be proud of the fact that we’ve been honest, faithful, respectful and kind throughout the entirety of our relationship, to the point where this is so hard even though it’s the right decision

obviously, i am very scared of the path that lies ahead. he has been by my side for the better half of a decade, and i have the privilege of exploring things on my own. it’s obviously what i have been missing in my life, so i am excited for what’s to come, but terrified of living a life he’s not going to be such a big part of anymore

but things are going to be fine. idk how long it will take, i am suspecting very long, but i know in my bones this is for the best for us both. so with time, i will be happy

and not to worry, i have a fantastic support system. i have incredible friends who are there for me. i am lucky to have a family who is not guilting me about leaving a long term relationship, despite also being sad. and i’ve learned i have a great community on here who has showed so much kindness, and i am so grateful <3

that being said — i am not planning on taking a break from tumblr lol. if anything, i am starting to get out of my writers block. this past week i have written more than i have the last month so that’s good! i think i might try and be a little more productive than i have been the past few weeks (at least i hope so, work is picking up again hehe)

not putting this out here for sympathy or anything, but just a little update. i am interested in the lives of those i follow, so maybe some of you are interested in mine

wishing everyone a nice weekend 🫶🏻 i got work in the morning (day after the breakup that’s fun)

[mallowwblossom]

OUTER BANKS SEASON 4 SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT!!

Ok, so now that JJ is dead, NO ONE can. convince me that Riara WON'T happen in season 5 AND LET ME TELL Y'ALL WHY.

First of all, their chemistry has been there from the start. You could feel it even in season 1, and if you say otherwise, you're lying. They’ve given us so many moments—both direct and indirect interactions.

Have you noticed that when Rafe talks about Kiara, he uses her full name, but when he addresses her directly, it's ALWAYS and ONLY "Kie"?

THAT LOOK??? ARE Y'ALL SERIOUSLY GOING TO DENY THAT LOOK?

Also, remember in season 1, when Pope and Kiara talked, and Pope brought up her "Kook Year"? She reacted badly to that, and considering she was Sarah's best friend back then, a possible fling between Rafe and Kiara could've easily happened and is HEAVILY IMPLIED.

When Rafe picks fights with the Pogues, he never really targets Kiara aggressively(I mean yes he does almost choke her and tries to down her in the sewers but ykwim).For example, in season 1, he pulls her away from Barry, saying she was not the one they were looking for.

And these are only moments from the FIRST SEASON! The fact that are only those present in the first season and some of you still don't believe this ship leaves me flabbergasted.

Their strongest moment was definitely in season 3 with an entire arc of them together in Barbados.

ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT MEANT NOTHING?

Now, yes, Rafe met Sofia and dated her in season 3, but tbh it never felt genuine. Rafe is a twisted man, and it seemed like she was just a replacement for the family he lost. Rafe needs someone whom he can prove himself to, to encourage and love him, partly to prove he can be like Ward, another twisted man who always managed to keep his family together and placed his family first (at least according to his disturbed vision) . Now that he feels "betrayed" by Sofia, I doubt we’ll see her again.

ALSO THE RIARA MOMENTS IN THIS SZN WEREN'T GONE AT ALL, THEY WERE ON FULL FORCE.

Call me crazy if you want, but I genuinely believe Riara will become canon. It might even be part of the reason they decided to kill off JJ. Yes, Rudy Pankow didn’t want to continue on the show, but remember that interview where Carlacia said Cleo and JJ were supposed to be a couple? I don’t think Jiara was in the plan from the start; it happened mostly because of fans.

I’m not happy with how they handled this season, and I’ll probably talk about that in another post. I’m definitely NOT happy with JJ’s finale, but I’m excited about this likely-to-happen Riara pairing. And I don't know If It's just me but I'm noticing the writers seem to be pushing a potential redemption arc for Rafe, which I don’t fully approve of—but who knows, that could be another hint for Riara?

---

Side note: If you were in the OUAT fandom in the 2013/2014 I'm telling this is like the Bealfire-Emma-Hook love triangle. Like we all liked I hope Baelfire, but from the SECOND we saw Hook, we all knew Neal was supposed to go. Change my mindddd

MIND YOU ENGLISH ISN'T MY FIRST LANGUAGE AND I REALLY HOPE I MANAGED TO GET MY POINT ACROSS😭

Of course, that is entirely my opinion, but PLS do interact because I'm curious about everyone's take on this. <33

[sleepynoons]

WELCOME TO @SLEEPYNOONS' FIRST WINTER EVENT!

happy winter, everyone! this time of the year's always packed with tons of emotions, highs and lows, cheers and tears, so the following 12 pieces will span a range of genres, aus, and relationship dynamics based on a few of my favorite winter songs! i'll be writing for various characters and fandoms as well, so hopefully there's at least a story or two that you're interested in! if you would like to be tagged, shoot me a message via my ask box with your @. word count and warnings will be updated throughout the following weeks.

otherwise, stay warm, get a nice steaming cup of your favorite drink, and cozy up! (also, some tissues, just in case.)

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 1 – TIP TOE BY HYBS higuruma hiromi (jjk) x afab!f!reader, post-canon!au, nsfw / 18+

genre – fluff, smut word count – ~2,900 warnings – manga spoilers, brief sub!higuruma, oral (giving), body worship, marking, edging, cum eating, praise kink synopsis – it's been weeks since the last time you and your husband have spent quality time together, and now that it's christmas, the two of you can finally spend an intimate evening together.

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 4 – ONLY BY LEE HI jing yuan (hsr) x gn!reader, modern!au, sfw

genre – fluff, angst word count – tbd warnings – power dynamics, etc. synopsis – although it's been years since your divorce, some part of you is still afraid to be in a relationship again. even if the person's someone you've known for years now – your boss –, are they really who they seem to be? can you love, even when there's uncertainty?

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 7 – WONDER BY ADOY aizen sousuke (bleach) x f!reader, modern!au + arranged marriage!au, sfw

genre – angst word count – tbd warnings – tbd synopsis – aizen sousuke's the heir to the largest pharmaceutical company in japan, and you're his arranged fiancée. but wedding oaths mean nothing when he doesn't love you and won't even look your way. unfortunately, you can't contain these feelings of yours for much longer.

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 9 – YABA BY FUJII KAZE umemiya hajime (wbk) x gn!reader, sfw

genre – fluff, angst word count – tbd warnings – tbd synopsis – you and umemiya rarely fight. but a problem's been brewing for a while now, and it's finally hit its boiling point. is this the end of your relationship?

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 13 – THE NIGHT BY SOYOU (FEAT. GEEKS) asakura shin (sakamoto days) x gn!reader, college!au, sfw

genre – fluff word count – tbd warnings – suggestive content synopsis – plans have changed, and to your surprise, both you and your boyfriend shin are staying on campus over winter break. that means the two of you can spend christmas together, and you're excited to have him all to yourself!

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 18 – DIE 4 YOU BY DEAN kurapika kurta (hxh) x gn!reader, lovers to enemies!au, nsfw

genre – angst word count – tbd warnings – major character death synopsis – kurapika's methodical, thorough, determined. there are very few things that can throw a wrench in his plans. for instance, he doesn't expect you to get in his way. at all.

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 20 – ALMOND EYES BY CLAVITA oikawa tooru (hq) x gn!reader, nsfw / 18+

genre – fluff, smut word count – tbd warnings – n/a synopsis – it's been months since oikawa's gone abroad, and the two of you have managed to find balance in your long-distance relationship. but this time around, your boyfriend's being particularly evasive about his christmas plans, and you're at a loss as to what to do.

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 24 – SANTA TELL ME BY ARIANA GRANDE sunday (hsr) x f!reader, guardian angel!au, sfw

genre – fluff, angst, slight crack word count – tbd warnings – n/a synopsis – to put it quite simply, you have horrible taste in men. you're more than aware of it, so this year, you really, really, really want santa to hear you out because god definitely hasn't. but what you don't know is that someone does love you very dearly – you just can't see him.

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 25 – ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU BY MARIAH CAREY neuvillette (genshin) x afab!f!reader, nsfw / 18+

genre – fluff, smut word count – tbd warnings – tbd synopsis – it's your first winter with neuvillette, and where you're from, it's customary to celebrate by exchanging presents, eating delicious food, and spending quality time with loved ones. so neuvillette has decided to take a day off, and you're excited to surprise him.

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 27 – ON THE DRIVE HOME BY NIKI hanma shuji (tr) x gn!reader, sfw

genre – angst word count – tbd warnings – n/a synopsis – you know it, he knows it. it's just that both of you are too complacent, so you're playing this waiting game. stuck in the middle of a snowstorm, in a freezing car, you're face-to-face with the notion that your relationship is really coming to an end.

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 28 – SHIAWASE BY OMOINOTAKE miya atsumu (hq) x gn!reader, sfw

genre – fluff word count – tbd warnings – n/a synopsis – atsumu is forced to articulate all the ways and reasons for why he loves you, which he thinks is ridiculous because there's no end to the list. little does he know, it's his voice, not his words, that fail him.

❆ ͙͛ DECEMBER 30 – LOVERS' OATH BY CHEN YU-PENG diluc ragnvindr (genshin) x afab!f!reader, nsfw / 18+

genre – fluff, smut word count – tbd warnings – tbd synopsis – your wedding with diluc was a small, intimate event, just between the two of you, the officiant, close friends, and a few notable business partners. and you're glad, because you have more than enough energy to make the most out of your first night together as a married couple.

[tanuki1029]

Even to someone who thinks they're a centrists, terfs are a right-wing movement. They aren't feminists in any actual capacity. They don't care about women's rights. They are openly willing to work with fascists because they are fascists only interested in the extermination of trans people. Describing them as left wing isn't remotely true. It's doing the work of their propaganda for them. They aren't feminists.

I know what you mean by it seeming like people categorically just hate men in general. It's kind of a two pronged issue that you're describing, but both of them definitely do happen.

First, with the women and nb spaces, they do suck. Majorly, but it's not flat hatred of men. I've been refused entrance into those spaces and definitely don't feel safe in them. The ones I've encountered are basically terf-lite. They don't trust me because I'm trans, and thus don't qualify as a woman in their eyes.

It sucks. It sucks in a way that is just incredibly painful. Calling it man hatred or misandry is missing the wider picture, though.

The kinds of people who trust a trans masc until they look masculine don't just distrust men, either. It's a similar issue of not seeing the wider picture. They trust a trans guy at first because they still see them as a girl, just one that wants to be called a guy. They're transphobic as well, and that's what paints the picture of this irrational hatred of men. They don't treat cis men this way. They are specifically cruel to trans men because of their transphobia.

For the second part, yeah, men get treated way differently as a class. Women are especially closed off around them. If that was the whole of the situation, then yeah, it'd be accurate to point at it ass the problem.

It's not, though. Women are careful around men because we have to be. Society as a whole is constantly conditioned to trust men (particularly white, able bodied, etc) over women. The reason that men get treated with suspicion by default is because they have the power to ruin a woman's life and will never face any consequences for it at best, or be rewarded for putting a bitch in her place at worst.

Especially with abortion being so attacked, there are legal fucking consequences to trusting a man now. That's true of anyone who can get pregnant, too. I've heard some heart wrenching horror stories of cis dudes trying to get trans mascs pregnant to force them into "being a woman." Like, trusting the wrong dude can literally kill you.

And it's ass. It really sucks to have to treat dudes like this, but you really can't blame this on non men or the left. I've seen this same conversation around bipoc creating nonwhite spaces. It was genuinely hurtful to me at first, but like. When I actually stopped to look at the entire situation, it was really easy to see why. White people are an actual, tangible risk to bipoc in a way that they need protection from.

The solution isn't to get rid of nonwhite spaces. The solution has to be dismantling the power structures that enable this oppression.

And it still hurts!!! Genuinely, it sucks to be on the other side of this! I've been there. I know that pain is real, but it wouldn't have helped those nonwhite spaces to waste their time telling white woman four thousand eight hundred and six the basics of racism. They had their own shit to work through.

Falling into this idea of the left hates men is falling into the same trap that I did back then. It's taking the pain of an oppressive class at face value. You just can't stop there. You have to look deeper than the pain.

It hurts, but when you see what powers are at play, you can work towards meaningful change.

the amount of redditors like "as someone who escaped the alt right pipeline, here's the problem with the left" *writes out essay revealing a massive victim complex*...you did NOT escape the right i'm afraid 😭🙏 at the core of reactionary politics is aggrieved entitlement!

[hannahbarberra162]

Princess Treatment, Part 1 (Benn Beckman x OC, Rivals to Lovers, Slow Burn)

on Ao3

This is the "someone old" I had in mind for the X Amount of Followers event! You've unlocked Benn Beckman! There will be smut, but not in this chapter.

Thank you to @gouraminnow for helping me brainstorm and beta'ing my work even when I'm whiny.

Summary:

Everyone loves Benn Beckman. The crew, civilians, other pirates, and especially women, all think Benn's the greatest thing since Silvers Rayleigh. Except Anne. She wants to rearrange his face, free of charge, with every condescending smirk he throws her way. She's capable and deadly, she's proven her worth as a member of the Red-Haired pirates. But the first mate is hell bent on testing her patience and her boundaries.

Notes:

Anne is practicing Irish stick fighting, bataireacht.

“See anything you like?” Captain asked suggestively, tipping his head to Anne. She cut her glance from Benn Beckman twirling his finger around the curl of a provocatively dressed woman to the one-armed man by her side. She and her Captain were sitting with their legs up on a round table at some shitty dive bar on a winter island. It was summer, so the weather was nearly perfect; she could wear her leather boots, worn jeans, and her cut off t-shirt and feel perfectly comfortable.

“Unfortunately, I’m not into women. It’s my curse to bear,” Anne said as she took another swig of her ale, turning away from the scene in front of her. 

“I wasn’t talking about the woman,” Shanks replied, smirking. Anne rolled her eyes, wondering if she should punch her Captain verbally or physically. She didn’t want to spill their drinks, so she decided to use her words.

“Oi, watch what you say. Or I’ll tell a certain Marine Hunter how much time it takes you to achieve that ‘effortless’ messy hairstyle.” Anne didn’t like people prying into her business, especially red headed busybodies who thought they knew better than everyone else. Besides, she didn’t know what Shanks was talking about. She and Beckman had a…contentious relationship at best. She didn’t know what it was, but everything about him set her teeth on edge. Everyone else loved the first mate, thought he was so composed and collected. Every island they went to, every other crew they met with, every goddamn person thought Benn was so amazing, and it drove Anne up the wall.

Sure, she had eyes, Anne knew Beckman was objectively handsome. But his good looks came with an irritating nature, an arrogant attitude, a cocky smile and the overall condescending tone of a complete ass. Benn acted like he knew better than everyone at all times, including their Captain. Which, to be fair, he did know better than the Captain most of the time. But so did everyone, it didn’t make him special. 

No, Anne did not like Benn Beckman, and not just because of his self satisfied attitude. He went out of his way to irritate and annoy her, unlike any of the other Red Haired Pirates. Anne was the only woman on board, but no one else brought it up regularly. The guys seemed to forget she was a woman most of the time, only remembering when they saw her in her sports bra. Sure, there were grumbles that she was the only crewmate besides the Captain who got their own room, but that was about it. Anne had suggested cutting their dicks off to become her roommate, but no one took her up on the offer. Aside from that, Anne was no different than anyone else on the crew. She was strong, tall, capable, and deadly. 

Beckman, however, always went out of his way to bother her. It didn’t help that Anne had a short fuse around him and Beckman was always lighting a match. He called her Princess or Sweetheart or Doll instead of her name. He would take heavy crates out of her hands without asking, hefting them up onto his shoulder with a lopsided grin. He’d say “ladies first,” when the crew was headed inside a tavern, insisting on holding the door open for her. It made Anne see red and want to bash his face in with her club. Multiple times. 

That was another thing that irritated Anne about Benn. He was one of the few people able to get a rise out of her. Anne prided herself on her collected nature, never rising to take the bait, always keeping her wits about her. Sure, if provoked she’d break your face (or clavicle, or arm, or femur) with her club, but Anne preferred to live and let live. The rowdy parties, hostile civilians, things that needed repairs on the ship - Anne didn’t let any of it bother her. Life was too short to be angry about every small detail.

Except when it came to Benn Beckman. 

“Oi. Call me Anne, not Princess,” she demanded one night over dinner. She tried to keep her tone neutral and not show her anger - that would only backfire. He’d called her Princess all day as she worked the rigging, enraging her every time he did it. By the end of the day she’d nearly strangled him with the ropes rather than adjusting the sails.

“Whatever you say, Sweetcheeks,” Benn replied with a lazy smile, leaning back to swig his ale. Anne stabbed her fork into the table as she stood up,  flipping her chair backwards in her haste to get away before she stabbed the first mate instead. Stomping away, she heard the deep rumble of Beckman’s laugh, which only served to infuriate her further. 

Anne wasn’t upset by her gender, quite the opposite. Anne was proud to be a woman, and wouldn’t change it for anything. She wasn’t soft and curvy like the women they saw on most islands, and that was OK. Anne was tall, buff, and sported a permanent bitch face that belied her generally calm demeanor. Anne liked her hair short, her clothes masculine, and her body unshaven. Her haircut matched that of her Captain, since she cut both of their hair. But instead of red, hers was a deep dark brown, a few more gray hairs coming in annually. Freckles littered her face, shoulders, chest and back, their number growing every year spent on the sea. She was well muscled but lithe, her muscles aiding her ability to move quickly during skirmishes. As a child, Anne had been teased for her lack of femininity, called a tomboy and other names aimed to hurt her feelings. Anne quickly learned how to deal with such situations - namely, with violence. Anne discovered that once she’d broken enough noses and arms, people stopped making fun of her. 

She’d found her place on the Red Haired Pirates after accidentally catching their Captain in an animal trap. Anne had been checking her traps for food when she came across a red haired man in one of her trapping pits. 

“Stay, Hobbes,” Anne said, hopping off the back of her tiger and patting its velvety head.

“Oi, help me outta here,” the man said pitifully as he sat in the shade of the pit. Looking him over, Anne thought she recognized him from the wanted posters in town. 

“Aren’t you that Emperor?” Anne said, crossing her arms. 

“Yeah, Red Haired Shanks. Lemme outta here, I’m too hungover for this shit,” he whined. Anne was taken aback - she hadn’t expected one of the four Emperors of the Seas to be so…casual.

“No. Find your own way out.” Anne said, starting to mount her tiger again. Shanks’s mouth hung open in shock. If he was an Emperor, surely he’d be able to extricate himself. 

“That’s not nice, I only have one arm!” He exclaimed, his mouth forming a pout. 

“Never said I was nice,” Anne said while shrugging her shoulders, already on the back of her tiger as it sauntered away. 

And the rest was history. Shanks did eventually get out of the pit, though Anne never found out exactly how. He’d followed the path she’d set out on back to her hut and stumbled upon her practicing her bataireacht . The Captain sparred with Anne for a few minutes, then invited himself into her hut for a drink of her alcohol. A few hours later Anne had agreed to join Shanks’s crew. She had a few years of sailing experience, a lot of years of kicking ass experience, and even more years of drinking experience, all of which were needed to be a Red Haired Pirate. She’d brought her few things back with her, said brief goodbyes and set sail on the Red Force. 

The crew was nice enough, she met the doctor, who gave her a basic physical and wasn’t weird about it. Limejuice was an early favorite, the two quickly bonding over their shared love of staff fighting. Anne was also drawn to Monster and had to restrain herself from scratching him behind the ears at their first meeting. In fact, she found the crew rather pleasant and enjoyable enough. They were all around her age, a well settled crew, which made for a more relaxing journey on the sea. Unfortunately, she met the first mate after she joined, otherwise she would have declined. Their first meeting left a lot to be desired and set the tone for the rest of their interactions.

“What’s yer weapon of choice?” Benn asked as his introduction, eyeing the new recruit up and down, taking a drag of his cigarette. He had come up and leaned on her shoulder with his arm. Anne shoved it off of her like it burned.

“Don’t touch me. Club,” Anne replied tersely, pointing to the club strapped to her back. In truth, it was a shillelagh, but most people didn't know what that was.

“Do ye mean ‘staff?” Benn asked with a smirk. Anne ground her teeth together.

“If I meant ‘staff,’ I would have said ‘staff.’ I said ‘club,” Anne bit out. 

“Hmm. Staff might be better,” he said, blowing smoke in her face. Anne narrowed her eyes.

“Didn’t ask for your opinion. Don’t want it, either.” 

“Clubs break,” Benn said with a smug grin.

“So do bones,” Anne replied, baring her teeth, and turned on her heel to end the discussion. She was done with this conversation and this god awful man. Many people had underestimated her and her shillelagh fighting over the years. Most only did it once. 

“You’ve been ‘will-they-won’t-they’ for years with Beckman,” Shanks teased, crossing his feet at the ankles, taking a deep pull from his ale.

“Do you mean ‘will I kill him today or won’t I’? That’s about all it’s been between us. Sorry, Cap. He doesn’t like me and I don’t like him. And that’s not going to change any time soon.”

“Hmm, I’m not so sure. If you get married, make sure I’m invited to the wedding,” Shanks said, smacking Anne on the back.

“If we get married, you can officiate,” Anne snorted, draining the last of her glass. “Gonna get another brew and take a piss, see ya.” Anne pushed off the table with her feet and stood up, sheathing her stick behind her back and bringing her glass with her. Truthfully, she just didn’t want to continue this conversation with her Captain. He was relentless, especially when he thought he was right. Leaving her glass on the counter of the bar, Anne went out into the alley behind the building for a breath of air and maybe to bum a cigarette. She always wanted one when she started drinking and tonight was no exception.

Leaning against a wall, she spotted a group of three men chatting and smoking and walked up to them with her friendliest smile. Anne had been told it wasn’t that friendly but it was what she had.

“Hey, guys, can I bum a smoke?” she asked cordially. One of the men gave her a passing glance up and down before replying. He had a scar down the side of his face, black stubble on his cheeks matching the short black hair on his head and was missing the last two fingers on his left hand. Anne had slept with worse, she thought.

“Sure thing, Sugar,” he said, extending a hand with an open pack of cigarettes. Anne didn’t bother saying anything about the pet name. She’d never see these fucks again in her life, it wasn’t worth her breath.

“Thanks, bud,” she replied, placing the butt in her mouth. Before she could even ask for a light, the man lit a match and extended it towards her. Anne widened her smile, sometimes she didn’t mind princess treatment.

“So what crew’re you on, baby? Some kinda merchant ship?” the man asked, leaning in further.

“Red Haired Pirates,” Anne answered after taking a deep drag of the cigarette. The men laughed like she told a joke. Anne’s friendly smile disappeared. 

“Something funny?” she asked, fingers already twitching. 

“Nah, Doll, c’mon, don’t play games” the man said with a laugh, stepping closer and leaning on the wall nearest Anne. She just rolled her eyes. Anne was used to this reaction, it didn’t really bother her over much. So what if some dipshit didn’t think she was on the crew?

“No games, but here’s a prize,” a deep voice growled out, flinging a lit cigarette at the man’s eye.

“Goddammit!”

“Goddammit!” Both Anne and the man yelled out simultaneously at the same man. “What the fuck, Beckman?” Anne yelled, whirling around to face the first mate. Beckman was about a meter behind her, shrouded in the shadows of the alley. “You think I couldn’t handle this alone? Some fucking drunk assholes? Fucking piss off!” Anne yelled, already angry. She knew Benn wouldn’t do this for any of the other crew members. It showed that he thought she was weak, that she couldn’t handle herself even though she’d fought side by side with the crew hundreds of times. Her armament and observation haki was as good as anyone else’s on the crew, she didn’t need help. She didn’t need someone to protect her, she didn’t need a babysitter and she sure as shit didn’t need Beckman. Cigarette break ruined, Anne crushed the rest of her cigarette under the sole of her boot and pushed past Beckman.

“Go back to your ladies inside the bar, I’m sure they miss you,” Anne spat behind her as she left. “I sure as shit don’t,” she muttered under her breath, throwing open the door to the bar.

A few days later and the Red Force was slicing through the sea once more to Anne’s delight. The sun was setting, painting the sky in purples and oranges as sweet as sherbert. It was her favorite time of day, the peaceful calm of the evening settling in her bones before the chill of the night came. Anne enjoyed her cup of herbal tea, watching the sunset from the crow’s nest as was her daily habit when the ship was sailing. In a few moments, she’d go spar with some of the crew or train alone, but the sunset was a moment of respite in a chaotic world. She worked as a rigger on the ship under Building Snake, which was a difficult but rewarding job. She’d always liked sailing, even before she’d made her career as a pirate. And watching the sun sink low in the sky was one of the rewards she got to enjoy.

“Oi, Princess, let down your hair,” Anne heard from below. She closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to regain the sense of awe and wonder she had moments ago. Only one voice could have her go from zen to burning anger in six words. Anne chose not to answer, breathing deeply instead.

Beckman POV

Anne didn’t respond to his call, but her silence was enough to know he’d hit his mark. He could practically see Anne’s eye twitching as he teased her from the deck. If he riled her up enough, she’d spar with him, which was a combination of his two favorite things. Benn and Anne sparred frequently, their verbal jabs often turning into physical fighting. Anne would seldom agree to spar with him outright, he usually had to get her irritated before she’d even think about it. But she was Benn’s favorite sparring partner of the crew. Not just because he got to enjoy the jiggling of her small tits under her shirt, or feel the warmth of her sun kissed skin under his own, though that certainly didn’t hurt. 

Anne had a very different fighting style than his own - her style relied on quick, fluid movement and precision whereas his was more direct, focusing on power and force. She was nearly impossible to pin down, trying to keep her under him was like trying to capture water in your hand. One moment he’d have her on the deck, held in place under his arms and the next she’d be sitting on his chest, her fighting stick about to break his nose. She was wild, unpredictable, and powerful, all things Beckman found incredibly attractive. But she needed more training - to reign herself in and channel her emotions - and Benn had given the task to himself. 

He’d been interested in Anne from the first moment he saw her approaching the ship with the Captain. Shanks tended to recruit whoever he “vibed” with, something that Benn had long given up arguing over. Most recruits didn’t make it past a week or two, but Anne had fit in easily, able to hold her own on the ship and on the battlefield. He’d given her grief over her fighting stick but he had no doubts after he saw her in action. She was strong and capable and Benn wanted to train her to be even better. 

Once in battle, she’d been cornered against the bow, three Marines approaching with guns drawn. Anne had looked bored, Beckman later realized. He’d been coming to enter the fray and help her only to realize she didn’t need it. He watched her coat her stick in haki and quickly break the clavicle of the closest Marine, throw him into the two others, shatter the femur of the second and crack the head of the third. All in a matter of seconds. She wasn’t even breathing hard as she stepped heavily on the skull of the Marine on her way to aid her crew mates. Beckman knew he was hooked on her as soon as the blood started to coat the deck.

Sure, Anne was different from the women Beckman usually went after on islands. He was known to favor short, soft, feminine women, women who purred and begged him to take them to bed. Women who spent their money and time on ways to make themselves look better, smell better, and feel better when he finally carried them giggling to his cabin. And he appreciated all of those women, the effort they put into the way they looked did not go unnoticed. So even though Anne did none of those things, he liked her just as much - maybe even more. 

Benn didn’t know why he was compelled to tease her so much - he felt like he was pulling her pigtails on the playground. He loved winding her up until she snapped at him, getting a rise out of her was second nature to him. She didn’t give that energy to anyone else - not even foolishness from the Captain could get her riled. But one glance from Beckman and the smoke was already coming out of her ears, her fingers reaching for her club. And he absolutely loved it. He knew it wasn’t in his best interest if he wanted to seduce her, but he couldn’t resist teasing her as much as she couldn’t resist responding. 

“Oi, you deaf now?” Beckman asked, lighting another cigarette. In his mind, he counted down from five. By the time he got to one, he had to dodge Anne’s kick aimed at his head. Benn smiled. She got him on the rebound, kicking his lit cigarette to the ground. The crew had already started to gather to watch them fight.

Anne POV

Benn was the most infuriating man on the seas, she was sure of it. He was stronger than Anne, but she was faster. No matter how many times she thought she had the advantage, she was never able to keep it. Worst of all, every time he pinned her, he gave her the goddamn smirk. Anne would never tell him but she had improved after sparring with Beckman near daily. She’d gotten sharper, striking with more accuracy and even faster than before. But she’d rather smell Shanks’s stump than ever admit it. 

“Better luck next time, Princess,” Beckman drawled at her, both arms pinned above her head. Anne grunted and used her foot to kick Beckman’s neck, earning her freedom. The crew whooped for her, as they always did. They had a betting pool going on when she’d finally beat his ass, with the times ranging from next month to never.

“No next time, Beckman,” she grunted, rolling on top of him. Sweat was dripping down her neck and chest, she could feel it pooling in her bra. She aimed to elbow his stupid fucking face but was pushed backwards as Benn grappled his way back on top of her, pinning her legs under his own. 

“Always a next time, Sweetheart, you need me. You’re not gonna get better without my help,” he said, blocking her strike to his throat. Anne wanted to rip it out with her teeth, though she’d tried before and ended up with Beckman’s thick fingers in her mouth, holding her jaw open.

“Don’t need you or your fucking help!” Anne bellowed, trapped again beneath the First mate.

“Says the Dame who can’t get away,” Benn replied easily, tightening his hold on her. She was twisted like a pretzel, him holding her arms in place across her chest with one immovable hand, her legs spread between his and trapped under his heavy body. Anne wiggled and tested for weakness, but he had her caged.

“Get a room!” Shanks yelled from his cabin, watching with amusement. Anne turned bright red, from her cheeks down to her chest as she realized the somewhat lewd manner the position could be construed. The gathered crew laughed and dispersed, their daily fight over and Anne no closer to beating Beckman than she was before.

“Let me go, you won,” Anne hissed through her teeth. Benn made no movement to release her.

“Always do,” Benn replied, watching the sweat trickle down her chest. Anne was still blushing furiously and it wasn’t receding as long as Benn stayed on top of her.

“Get. Off.”

“As you wish, Princess,” Beckman said, pinching the apple of Anne’s cheek between his fingers before hauling himself off her. Benn didn’t need to wonder how he was going to die, Anne thought, one day she was going to kill him.

[seancekitsch]

The Sword and the Quill: Chapter Three

Pairing: Gwayne Hightower x Reader

In the weeks leading up to little Daeron's departure to Oldtown, Queen Alicent finds herself trying to entertain the unmarried ladies of court. As one of her ladies in waiting, you agree to an anonymous penpal in one of the men at court, and end up spilling your heart to him. He is your perfect match, your equal. The only issue? The Queen's brother Gwayne Hightower will not stop teasing you as you try to uncover who responds to your letters.

My Daring Unfamiliar,

Quite coy of me to evade you? And what of your clever ways of evading me? I find myself no closer to figuring out your identity, though I feel more drawn to you than before. I too am glad you are not betrothed, as a vibrant woman such as yourself you should not find yourself shackled to one of the stuffy men of King’s Landing probably twice your age. It does seem to be their proclivity, as loathsome as it is. I am glad for your friendship, even if I do not know who you are. Even if I feel I will waste away and die without knowing who you are. To think, am I on your list? Are you on mine? I will admit I have my list narrowed down to six women, those that I think daring and smart enough to be you. Perhaps after this letter I will narrow it down even farther. I find I will be searching for your frazzled hair and short temper now that I know what to look for in this humidity. Of course I only jest. I am certain that what you think is unkempt is only marred because one is always critical of the face in the mirror, I am certain such wit and a sharp mind is accompanied by beauty to match.

How is it that a lady of noble birth would ever want to visit a place like Lys? Do you not know of its reputation? Of the pleasure gardens and pillow houses? Of the pirates that lurk there from the triarchy? I have not been there myself, but I do have a few of their coin, of which were taken off of a triarchy pirate. A gift, for you, is one of them I have sealed with this letter. You are an even bigger mystery to me now, knowing that a place such as Lys piques your interest so. But to answer your other questions, I have been to Dorne and Oldtown. Dorne is interesting, some parts a vast desert and others a beautiful oasis. Their wines and silks are the loveliest in all of Westeros, their people far less concerned with the pretenses that we are. Can you believe that I was asked to dance with a man’s wife openly? Such things could never occur here, although I will say that I did very much enjoy that everyone spoke plainly of their intentions and emotions. It was freeing to have that, and the courts proved all too constricting to me every day after. These letters to you are the closest I have had to that feeling since my travel there, and I appreciate you doubly for it. I am glad that I have found someone that I may converse openly with, ignoring status or titles or circumstances.

I will also say that the Queen is correct, Oldtown is maybe the most beautiful city in the kingdoms united. There is nothing more lush than its gardens, more splendid than its chateaus filled with artifacts and scrolls dating back to the conqueror, nothing more breathtaking than the flame at the top of the citadel.

I fear that you will find me boring, if I now admit my love of tourneys. I find the spectacle magnificent, and the skill and prowess on display to be a display of the strength of our shared kingdoms and crown. Perhaps I will find you and make it all the less boring for you. I do hope that my eyes will find yours amidst the crowd, and your countenance will make itself known to me immediately through some supernatural knowing. I will be searching for you in every row of the stands, praying to the seven that it will be easy. More importantly, tell me your favorite song, and I shall learn to play it for you. Or even, you may tell me your favorite poem and I shall transcribe it to song for you, a new creation of art for my Unfamiliar.

I do hope that I have discovered you by the next feast, so that I can ask you to dance properly, and that we may converse without the guise of the quills. So that I may grasp your hand to know that you are real. I assure you that I will be a spoiled man if I am to watch you dance circles around me, and a man utterly ruined if I get to steal more than one dance.

Your letters have cooled a part of me too warm, warmed a part of me too cool.

Truly,

Your Unfamiliar.

You look down at the golden ribbon tied into your sleeves for the day, your mind thinking only of the fact that he had underlined Your in his signing off. He considers himself yours. More, you think of the Lyseni coin that he had tucked into the parchment, a golden oval with the portrait of a naked woman engraved into it. An obscene gift for a lady of the court, but one you cherish because it is from your unfamiliar. Yours yours yours. It now lies in your jewelry box, a dingy coin amongst your finest of necklaces and rings. You have narrowed your list down. It is for certain not Darklyn or Beesbury. The names left are Lord Rowan, Ser Loras Florent, Ser Gwayne Hightower. You have picked out these ribbons for Lord Rowan, as a subtle sign of acknowledgment of his house colors, strikingly different from your own. You do not exactly wish it to be any of the men on your list, however. Lord Rowan is a complete stranger to you, Ser Loras you know to frequent married women’s beds, and Ser Gwayne… infuriates you. All of these men handsome and on parchment suitable matches, yet picturing any of them on the other side of the quill feels wrong. So you are hedging your bets in the days leading up to the tourney by attempting to garner the attention of the complete stranger. Maybe he is well traveled and sharp and charming like your unfamiliar.

Although you admit, the first day you did not see Lord Rowan anywhere within the Red Keep. Nor the day after that or yesterday. And now, the morning of the tourney, you hope that whatever hole he has crawled into he has emerged from so you can look into his eyes and figure out if he is yours. It’s silly, to think that you could tell, but maybe you can? Maybe this is like one of the fairytales you were told when you were young.

Only, it’s not Lord Rowan that you find in the hallways.

“Oh, please don’t tell me this is a new look for you,” Gwayne’s voice calls from the other end of the hall. How is it that the Red Keep is so large, yet Gwayne Hightower is inescapable?

“And if it is?” you call back. Gwayne closes the distance between you, his armor clanking the entire time. He is dressed and ready for his tilt in the tourney already.

“I’d say Lord Rowan is remiss for ignoring your efforts, but I’d also say you are wasting your time,” Gwayne smiles widely. He knows something. Your fingers start to fiddle with one of the ribbons, knowing you could easily pull them all out. It’s horrible, that for as rude you and Gwayne may be to each other sometimes, you can see that he’s not trying to humiliate you right now.

“Why?” you ask, pouting in frustration.

“Because he found out that he’s been writing to Lady Caswell, and now they are courting.”

Oh. That is a very good reason, indeed. You yank at the ribbon you’d been toying with, then the next one and the next one until your hands are full of the little ribbons, and hastily you look for somewhere to toss them, but there is none.

“Thank you for informing me,” you say, trying to steady your voice as much as possible.

“It seems you are no closer to finding out who writes you than I am.”

“I keep a list of his qualities to try to narrow it down.”

“As do I with my lady.”

“May I see your list?”

“Would you tell me who is on your list, if I did?”

“No.”

“Then my answer is the same.”

You are once again at an impasse with Gwayne Hightower, two immovable objects in the tide. 

“I hope you find your woman without the issue I face, I guess,” you offer, not exactly meaning it but not trying to be mean. If this is as trying for you, it has to be for every unwed person in the castle too. As much as your love for the Hightower family finds its limits at the brother, you still wish to carry on the tenants of this experiment for at least your friend.

“Then I shall see upon you at the tourney,” Gwayne says, and then tilts his head “Though I rather see you in different colors.”

“And what colors would you wish?” you ask, though you regret the words as they die on your tongue. He looks you up and down, and then scoffs.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Hours later, at the tourney, you are sat three seats away from Queen Alicent Hightower. You are dressed in the deep burgundy and blue color of your house and idly snapping your fingers closed on each of the elder Targaryen children’s hands; your fake predator of a hand keeping little Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena preoccupied for now. You wish that games like these could entertain you equally, but instead all runs through your mind is your Unfamiliar. Is he here, indeed? You hate that you have to be here, but yet you find your head almost whipping around in search. You told your Unfamiliar that you’d be searching for him; and you are. But with every turn of your head you seem to recognize and be bored of everyone. Bringing a favor to this event even feels silly at this point. You do not feel the spark you had hoped for. In fact, nothing draws anything besides boredom from you until late in the day.  

That is when Gwayne Hightower atop a horse galavants across the royal box and back again. Despite your ebbing annoyance from him earlier, you find yourself tensing in your seat. If not on your own, then on his sister’s behalf. You remember what she told you about the last tourney that Gwayne had attended in King’s Landing. To be almost killed by Daemon Targaryen himself, maybe the only person in all of Westeros you found truly and deeply loathsome and terrifying, is a memory that clearly stains the Queen’s outlook on this tourney. You tense and worry and stop your little game with the children in rapt attention, for her. 

His armor glimmers in the sunlight, blight enough to blind. His smile, though obscured by the helm, is similarly blinding. You’re certain he remembers his brush with death at the hands of the Rogue Prince, but his demeanor would say otherwise. He is the definition of confident bravado. This man looks foreign to the uncertain and studious man you spoke with the other day in the library. 

Lord Manderly has his horse trot and dance as he crosses the pitch, not yet a knight but clearly already presenting the same qualities as any of the rest of them. Soon, you are certain, he will be laughing and chasing women around with the rest of them. The northern stoicism does not seem to carry to this man, as he laughs and points into the crowd, at friends and serving people and women he may ask for favor. 

Both men cross back and forth, searching the crowds, their jousting lances upturned to the heavens as they circle, the crowd growing ever the more excited. 

You clutch your favor, unwilling to let it leave your grasp as a pit forms in your stomach every time Gwayne passes by the royal box. You look down the row of chairs to Alicent, who is already looking at you; her hands frustratedly pick at one another, her nails already rimmed with crimson. You offer her a weak smile, hoping it is enough to reassure her as the thought dawns on you: she has not seen her brother fight since that day. Sparring and training were nothing like this. And though Lord Manderly is no Daemon Targaryen, Alicent is really and truly afraid. You reach your free hand over the children’s heads, and her fingertips copy the gesture to brush against yours, your comfort not lost on her. It is moments like this where you feel truly wanted and needed here, and you could not imagine yourself traveling anywhere else. The love and friendship of the queen is almost enough. 

But her eyes snap away from your gaze, and your attention follows. 

There, resting at the railing, is Ser Gwayne Hightower’s jousting lance pointed at you. 

Shit.

Does he mean to humiliate you? A jape for your attitude towards him earlier? A way to twist and soil your efforts to find your letter writer?

You grimace at him, unsure of what to say as little Aegon fiddles with one of the ribbons on your favor. 

“My Lady, may your favor give me some of that fiery personality of yours. Perhaps your boldness will inspire the courage to win,” His smile is wide as he talks, as if he is holding back a laugh. You wish to snarl at him, hurl insult after insult, but his sister watches with rapt attention. 

“Perhaps you are already too bold, Ser,” you retort, but Aegon tugs harder on your favor. 

“My Lady, I will name you Queen of Love and Beauty if I win,” he presses, eyes darting to his sister before back to yours. It feels conspiratorial. 

“You wish me to have a line of suitors? How kind, Ser Gwayne.”

“I wish to repay a favor you’ve given me,” he explains, and begrudgingly you pull the favor from the little prince’s grasp to wrap it around the lance, the wine red and blue ribbons with embroidered grape leaves easily sliding down to where the base flares out, cementing itself on his weapon. The entire act feels intimate and strange, your handmade favor never having been given, and your eyes never truly meeting his for this long at once. Even from a distance, you can see the shining hazel. 

“You’d better win, I worked hard on that embroidery,” is all you offer, but anything else would feel far too tender, far too genial for the tense at best relationship between you. 

With that, Gwayne winks at you and has his horse trot off, proudly lifting his lance with your favor up to the entire crowd. The pit in your stomach deepens, realizing that if your Unfamiliar is truly here today, you now appear unavailable to him all because of Gwayne Hightower. You could hate him for this. 

But all you can do is sigh as you lean back into your chair, now completely ruined for the entire event. You chew your bottom lip as the dread settles in you, your hopes for the day dashed and taken away by your dearest friend’s brother. 

“Why do you look sour?” Aegon, who now has nothing to keep him idle, asks, “I’d name you Love and Beauty too.”

You roll your eyes as you give the prince a cheeky smile.

“I’m too old for you, little princeling. Move along.”

He sneers at you, but there’s no malice in the little boys face, and he turns back to his siblings to talk to them. Alicent looks over their heads at you, a curious and accusatory look on her face. You’d called her brother a brute, a ruffian, every rude name in the book but here you were giving him your favor with little protest as he talks of naming you Queen of Love and Beauty. Surely, she knows of her brother’s reputation, but you are the big question mark in this situation. 

“When did your loathing of my brother subside?” She asks, finally no longer picking at her hands as this now occupies her. 

“It did not,” you explain, “I merely helped him find a book the other day. He thinks this will repay me for my efforts.”

Alicent’s lips turn upward, a ghost of a laugh in the form of a sigh leaves her. She shakes her head, and finally her gaze breaks yours, casting her eyes to her brother on the field below. 

“Whatever he was looking for must have been very important,” The Queen mutters, and that ends the conversation. 

Gwayne and Lord Manderly line up, opposite sides of their tilt barrier on opposite sides of the list. Otto Hightower speaks, as Viserys’ voice does not find him lately. The King is weakening, today a rare public outing. You are certain that sooner rather than later, Alicent will take the reins and you will be her unofficial hand. 

“Let the final tilt begin!”

Needing no further encouragement, the men urge their horses forward, lances tilted forward and favors blowing in the wind. Gwayne’s lance finds purchase, easily shattering the wooden shield of Lord Manderly, the force of it pushing the northern lord backwards off his horse. However, this is the gruesome part. The moment Lord Manderly hits the ground, a squire brings forth his sword. Gwayne slows his horse, and jumps from the saddle with ease. He passes his shield and lance to his own squire, and reaches for his own sword. The two men run towards each other and finally you find yourself cringing in your seat. The memories of the Hightower Knight covered in blood flash through your mind as if they were yesterday. You grab the material of your skirt, white-knuckling the fabric to the point that you’re certain you’re ruining it.

You worry for Alicent, worry for the outcome of the tourney, worry for the fate of the favor you spent time making, and finally you let yourself admit that you do indeed worry for Gwayne Hightower. As much as he vexes you, you do not want him harmed. Being pompous is not a crime punishable by cracked ribs or bloodied eyes. Damning yourself and your superstitions, you allow yourself to pretend that your favor grants him some kind of protection spell. 

Gwayne’s sword clashes loudly against Lord Manderly’s, sparks flying as metals meet. He dodges and parries easily, and it becomes clear to you that he is the stronger fighter. It calms you, but only slightly. One wrong move could still give Manderly an advantage. But he disarms Manderly at the last moment, the sword flying through the air as Gwayne kicks the man down, his own blade pointed towards the mans face. 

He wins. Gwayne wins. 

You let out a breath, loud and relieved, no longer really caring about your appearances. Alicent too, untended her shoulders, and ushers for wine to be brought from your serving girl. The girls pour into both of your goblets seconds later, and both of you drink deeply. You look over to Alicent, whose other hand holds her seven pointed star in silent prayer, a torn up thumb rubbing meaningful circles across the points. 

“This fear does not become thee,” you remark playfully, smiling at her, “He is fine, you may celebrate.”

“And you may…” but her words die on her lips, now forming into a bigger smile than before as her attention drifts from you. Gwayne rides towards your box, lance back in hand as well as a crown of flowers.

He stops just ahead of you, his horse’s shoulder just against the box. You rise, and lean over to the edge of the railing, to the winning knight. 

“I chose the flowers, I do hope they bring joy to you even if I may not,” he tells you, and you cannot sense a jape in his voice. 

“Thank you, Ser Gwayne, I will wear them with honor,” you tell him, and duck your head down so he may place the ring of flowers, with a trail of flowers downward in the back, onto your head gracefully. His fingers, though gloved, are gentle against your head, his touch soft and careful. 

You rise up, the smile on your face not exactly facetious. As a child you did once dream of this very thing; maybe with a different circumstance, but you did wish this. That is, before you knew how much you disliked tourneys in practice. 

“My Queen of Love and Beauty!” He cries out, and the entire stadium cheers. 

It’s hours later that you finally get to return to your chambers and remove the crown to inspect it further. The ring itself is Mountain Larkspur, a fully poisonous plant. The thought makes you laugh, that Gwayne would pick such a toxic bloom for his Queen of Love and Beauty. But it is to be said that the Larkspur signify lightheartedness, humor, and an open heart. The trail of flowers that rested on the back of your head are Grape Hyacinths, which based on your family, should be a compliment to their legacy. But these flowers signify sincerity, and you’ve been to enough weddings to recognize them. They are more a mauve than a blue like the Larkspur, and those wealthy in the knowledge of bouquet language would know that they symbolize a desire for forgiveness. 

Curious, you think, that Gwayne would go out of his way to mention that he had chosen these flowers. Were they truly and truce between you? Was he trying to tell you something without saying it?

You push through thoughts from your mind, deciding not to dwell on them, lest they give you a headache. 

The quill in your hand touches the paper, releases, touches again. 

It’s quickly that you realize you will not get any writing done, even here at your library desk. You sigh as you push yourself up from your chair, hastily packing everything into your bag as if it pains you to do so. 

It is quick, the trip back to your chambers to change into your simplest dress and cloak, and back out into the hallways, and into the labyrinth of Maegor’s tunnels you had found years ago when Aemond was still just a wish. You pull the cloak closer to you by the strap of your bag, wrapping yourself in a bundle by candlelight as you walk the barely worn path, your candle the only light as you navigate past each stone. It took turning and and faith to get you towards the edge, and for the last twenty feet you blew out the candle for fear of getting caught, but finally the moonlight would hit your face. The tunnels set you out at a district of King’s Landing littered with taverns and food stalls. The food stalls you never saw, for you only come here when you need to write and use some ale in your belly to make the words move more easily. Sure, you could ask a serving girl to fetch you a flagon, but for some reason that did not work the way that writing in a dingy corner with the smallfolk does. Perhaps it is their songs, their open way of speaking, their camaraderie that inspires and spurs you on. 

You enter The Roost, the favorite of these taverns for you. 

“Girlie!” the barkeep calls as you enter, and you shush him as you rush towards the bar to order. As far as the owners of this tavern know, you are a well paying woman attempting to cover up an affair. While they are discreet, they do not hide their fondness of you or your coin. 

“Keep the ale flowing,” you tell the burly man, fatherly and kind, “I’ll be at my back booth.”

“Will do, girlie,” he responds, and you move to the other room behind the bar, a room with two long tables and six small alcoves each dotted with wooden half circle booths. The tavern is busy, but you move through the crowd deftly, easily reaching your little bench and placing your belonging down. You settle in easily, your parchments and your quill and ink easily spread out across the table and one of the barmaids brings you a large flagon of ale. 

You tip the rim of the drink into your lips and drink heartily, careful not to tip your head back too far or else your hood will tip off from your hair and expose you. 

Your quill hits the parchment more easily now. 

My Dearest Unfamiliar,

How dramatic! To think that you will die if you do not know my identity. Though I will not ease your pain, I will give no name in this letter. I find myself narrowing the list of who you may be: an unmarried man, a sensitive yet playful man, well traveled and well read, the best of all things. With words that compliment me, flattery flushing my own face as I read your letters. There are far and few men in the Red Keep that match that distraction. There are three men now on my list after this tourney, and I do hope that I have determined you right. Are you searching for a wife from these letters, I wonder? an a man not yet betrothed, it cannot be distant from your mind. I will have you know that I did not see you during the tourney, or at least I do not think I did. I tried hard to look for you, I looked at every man, but I was not sure what countenance to look for. I will say myself, I am not certain I want a courtship from this, but I do find myself more interested in the idea and the affection that comes from it with each of your letters. You are warming a heart usually icy, My Unfamiliar. Is it too forward to say that when and if I find your identity, I wish to kiss you? It will not be my first kiss, I admit, but I would want to bestow one upon you. Even if you did not want to court me, if only just to thank you for being a just and honest companion for me. I am not saying that I am hoping, but I am hopeful.

I will have you know, My Unfamiliar, that I have read A Caution for Young Girls by the Corinne Wylde, and read it well. The legends of Lys will not make me balk or shy away. I am, as I have said, interested in seeing the world warts and all. I want to see everything that the world can show me. I will say, I do appreciate your gift of the Lysine coin. It is exhilarating to hold something of value to a life so far from my own, to treasure it as if I would a jewel.

Would that I should thrive in a place like Dorne? To speak freely and open tongued. You make it sound such a lively place compared to this. How I wish to experience their wines in a setting where I can speak like the Dornish. Perhaps though, and most likely, if I may be granted leave from court, I will see how grand and lovely Oldtown is. I would love to spend an afternoon perusing the scrolls or reading inscriptions on artifacts just as much as I would enjoy any grand view or adventure.

I will tell you that I do not find you boring for enjoying tourneys, especially because I did not find myself as bored as usual at this one. Though I will say my amusement came from looking for you, I guess I can admire what a tourney is supposed to represent.I am saddened, though, that I could not recognize you immediately. I was hoping some sort of spell could overtake me and cast mine eyes only to yours. I however, just saw many faces in the crowd, and narrowed my list no further.

I find though, that I would appreciate any piece of art you would offer. I am a lover of the arts and a purveyor of understanding them. Jenny of Oldstones is a song I find myself drifting towards often, the lyrics catching me. How beautiful, a woman dancing with the ghosts of the past? How often do we all do the same? Is our love fated by stars, written into the histories? Or is love as fleeting as a ghost on the wind?

For the next feast, I shall try to come up with some coded word. Something we shall say to each other so we will know who we are. I fear giving a dance to just anyone, lest they try to court me and take me away from whatever is between us.

Yours as well;

Your Unfamiliar

The letter is, plainly, too forward. You do not care, though, as you finish off your ale and motion for another one. It’s only now that you look upon the tavern’s rooms, surveying the guests and all their revelry. Your eyes scan, casual and unassuming, until you fall upon a crop of auburn hair. Could it be? You look the the hazel eyes attached, surely, it’s him. But is it? No, it cannot be. The man makes no move towards you, no stern recognition in his gaze, just a simple gaze upon you as you stare back. And the spell is broken as another ale is set before you.

It cannot be him, you think to yourself.

[quitealotofsodapop]

"Pigsy! Pigsy, you won't believe it!" Mei was gasping as she burst into the shop, "We need to get out of here ASAP, Pigsy!"

"Whoa, whoa... what the- Mei! You're supposed to be out on delivery! I have twenty orders out!"

"And ignore be out doing them, Pigsy-buddy, but we got bigger problems right now!"

"BIGGER THAN OUR BUSINESS!? Mei, I'm not paying you to laze about!"

"MK and I got attacked, Pigman!" Mei snapped, pulling the mentioned cub closer. The moment the words were out of her mouth, Shihou tensed, fur visibly bristling.

"You were what!?" Shihou hissed, jumping to his feet. Mei winced, realizing MK's parent was in the room and now, rightfully, upset. "MEI, WHAT HAPPENED!? WHERE'S MK!?"

Mei shuffled a bit, showing the younger monkey clinging to her back. He looked a bit shaken, but was otherwise okay. In fact, as soon as he saw Shihou, he brightened up considerably and excitedly chirped a greeting. Shihou bathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his child up until he noticed the item MK had wrapped his tail around. Almost instantly his face became white as a ghost.

"Me..." Shihou's voice was shaky as he stumbled back a bit, "What... does MK have?"

"A freaky staff thing." Mei explained, "The GPS on the delivery app glitches out or something and we ended up devouring into some weird construction lot with a big tree and this weird gold staff sticking out of the dirt under it. There was some demons there talking about free some Bull King!"

"Are you saying that's the legendary Ruyi Jingu Bang!?" Tang interrupted, eyes glinting as he looked over the staff. Upon closer inspection, it was more evidently clear that this was either the actual staff or a very convincing replica, having the golden bands and etching all across it. "It's certainly convincing enough... but if that's the case MK should be able to lift it. It's said ony the Monkey King is able to lift the staff."

"Either way, those weird bull demons attacked us because MK picked it up!" Mei explained, "I'm telling you, it's THE Monkey King's staff! It was twice the size it is now when MK picked it up, but now it's the size of some toy want prop!"

"Well if they want it, I don't want MK having it." Shihou's voice was hard as he glared at the staff, "Whether it's the 'real' Ruyi Jingu Bang or not, someone wants it bad enough to attack a child over it."

Mei nodded, turning to her little brother figure who had since jumped from her back and was showing the staff's ability to grow and shrink for Tang, who looked about ready to pass out.

"MK, buddy. That isn't a toy, we need to put it down now."

MK paused in his play and looked her up and down and then at the staff before pouting.

"No! The bad guys want it! We need to keep Monkey King's staff away form the bad guys!"

"Xiaotian, put it down." Shihou firmly told his son, "Mei is right, that isn't a toy! It's not a game."

"NO!"

What followed next was a temperamental argument between MK and his father as they went back and forth, arguing over the staff that went on for almost an hour as everyone present tried to get the dangerous weapon away fromt he child. Eventually MK go so upset he swung the staff and accidentally destroyed a part of the bar, at which point Shibou finally had enough.

"ENOUGH!" Shihou yelled as he snatched the staff from MK's hands, "This ISN'T a toy, MK! You could hurt someone with it!"

Silence met the shop as Tang tried to comprehend what he was seeing. Shihou standing there with the legendary staff of the Monkey King in his hands, a staff only the legendary god is said to be able to lift.

'Or...The legendary Great Sage's son.'

It seemed impossible but there's no other explanation Tang could think of for not one but two monkey demons would be able to lift the legendary staff, especially since Mei and Pigsy had both tried to grab the staff from MK's hands only for them to be forced to drop it from how heavy the thing was, leaving several cracks in the floor. Yet Shihou, who was so pregnant he wasn't supposed to lift so much as a carton of milk, is able to lift it with ease as if it was a feather. Shihou himself seemed to freeze as if realizing what he did, glancing at the staff in his hands with a strange glint in his eyes before very obviously pretending it too was far too heavy for him. Unfortunately, it appears Shihou isn't as good an actor as his legend implied, it was far too late and everyone had already seen him lift it.

"Shihou..." Tang's voice was choked, "Are you... is it really...!?"

"NO! No I... it's isn't ehat it looks like!" Ahihou stammered, all but throwing the staff to the floor. Notably, while it had been so heavy it cracked the floor before, not a single scratch formed when Ahihou had dropped it, "I don't know why it..."

"Shihou i think we both know that's a lie..." Pigsy's gruff voice broke through, eyes glaring down at the staff, "So I need to ask ya, is that thing what I think it is?"

"It..." Shihou looked conflicted before his shoulders drooped, defeated, "It is."

Pigsy sucked in a breath as Tang felt all the breath punching out of his lungs. He'd thought he'd know Shihou, but if what he's saying is true then... his best friend and the father of the student he'd been looking after this past year had been none other than his idol! Shihou was Sun Wukong!!

"So what does that mean?" Mei asked, "Who were those guys who attacked us!?"

"The Demon Bull Family. When the staff was lifted, it would have released the seal on the Demon Bull King. No doubt the others with him were his wife and child." Shihou's voice was dull, a sense of despair ringing in it, "Now that they're free, MK and I will never be able to live in peace. They'll hunt us down relentlessly and drag every lowlife ein all the realms with them."

Prev.

Aww yeeeah! More Marbled Egg writing! Always a joy!

Mei reasonably freaking out and MK clinging to her back like a little koala (or in this case little monkey) <3

"Shihou" trying his best to stay calm but firm about the situation, his facade of a normal monkey demon breaking when MK nearly hurts someone with the Staff.

Pigsy catching on quickly that his best customer (Tang barely counts) is some sort of legend thats chosen to hide this whole time.

And Wukong's sheer despair thinking that he and MK will never be safe now that DBK is released. Not even considering that his former sworn brother would show them mercy.

MK most likely sneaks out during the last part to confront DBK on his own. He doesn't want his baba to be sad/worried about all of this anymore. He's either gonna beat up the Demon Bull king himself, or find a way to make friends as long as it makes his baba happy again.

Mei: "Uhh... where's MK??" All the adults: "EHHH!?" Shihou/Wukong, face severe: "Mountain. Armor. NOW." Pigsy, understanding: "I know a guy with a boat who can help."

[crimson-and-clover-1717]

Ed’s Initial Intentions regarding Stede

Thank you so much for your attention to the poll. The consensus is it’s complicated - and I sort of agree - although I’m swayed towards Fascination alone.

This is my interpretation…

Stede causes Ed to access hidden or denied parts of himself before they’ve even met. And it causes a change in Ed’s behaviour. Ed’s come across many rich or aristocratic folks to rob whom he would see killed without issue; but not someone who’s also a pirate, doing their own original thing, and who seems ambivalent towards Blackbeard’s existence. It’s dopamine to Ed’s novelty-starved brain. It’s not as if Ed carries out a usual raid on the Revenge intending to kill Stede, only to find himself unexpectedly charmed. Ed’s bewitched even before he meets Stede, which means Ed’s entire approach and thought-processes are altered.

Killing Stede and the crew isn’t necessarily off the table should the need arise, but I don’t think it’s actively on in any capacity. There’s no plan, and there’s no ‘uszh’ for once either. Because none of this is uszh. Ed’s engagement with the Revenge is not his normal MO. History’s most brilliant tactician is free-styling. Possibly free-falling.

At the end of 102, Izzy states, ‘Captain says follow that ship.’ And Fang answers ‘Oh really? Why?’ To which Izzy replies, ‘How should I know? The man’s half-insane.’ This conversation shows this isn’t usual strategy. Even Fang asks why - he thought they’d seen the last of those ‘fancyboys’. And Ivan’s sad he didn’t get the chance to murder them, which seems the usual way of things. Plus they’d already had the chance to take or plunder the ship when it ran aground, so this stalking manoeuvre is out of the ordinary. It feels like wasted time and energy.

By the start of episode three, Blackbeard’s ship is a few hundred yards out from the Revenge, and Izzy’s trying to manipulate Ed into usual strategy again by suggesting opening fire, or boarding and throwing the Revenge crew to the sharks. Instead, Ed wants to wait until they make landfall and invite them aboard his ship. Ed’s doing something very different again because he’s unwittingly engaging with an unfamiliar part of himself. And interestingly ‘Go suck eggs in Hell’ appears not to insult, but to somewhat seduce him further. Before meeting Stede, he’s already out of his depth emotionally, and acting out of character, literally.

Despite what Ed would do normally, I just cannot see him landing on the Revenge with the active intent of plundering the ship and / or killing Stede and the crew. His words and actions suggest he’s already through the looking-glass.

So, to The Plan. We have three interesting moments which lead up to its revelation: the clothes swap, ‘careful of your face’ and ‘show me the ways of an aristocrat’.

For me, the three strands, which have no previous connection (other than Ed and Stede playing together), come together in Ed’s mind somewhere between Ed leaving Stede on the lookout, and Ed speaking with Izzy below: a matter of seconds. It reminds me of Keyser Söze in The Usual Suspects, pulling together disparate ideas into a cohesive story spontaneously. It’s the mind of a quick-thinker. And it’s in-keeping with Ed’s ability of reacting in the moment to the moment when necessary.

I think Ed also feels forced to perform Blackbeard for Izzy because Izzy’s threatening to leave pushes on that white father-figure emotional bruise. At this stage, Ed doesn’t have enough emotional loyalty to Stede to not voice such a plan; whilst his identity is still too caught in Izzy’s web to let him go - ‘you’re needed here’. For me, the plan to kill Stede is brought about in the moment via an act of psychological coercive control.

But Ed’s also kicking the can down the road. It’s a sort of Faustian bargain. Why not promise Izzy both their souls if it means Ed and Stede can hang out a little longer? Yet on another level Ed’s possibly hoping the debt won’t be called in, such is the complexity of the push and pull here. He’s putting it on the tab, the never-never. He’ll out-manoeuvre it if he decides that’s what he wants. Of course there’s doublethink going on because Ed’s in the middle of an identity crisis.

Ed daren’t admit his real reason for wanting to stay on the Revenge. He can’t comprehend himself even how deep this goes. His look as he turns is one of exhaustion and confusion. Stede Bonnet has him rattled. What started as a trickle of unease and ennui before they’d even met is now a whirlpool of unidentifiable feelings around both Stede, and Ed’s own perception of self.

Ed’s free-falling in liminal space.

[kittenfangirl20]

*Adam and Eve started going to parties celebrating Halloween, while Adam couldn’t get drunk because of the baby, he was still able to enjoy candy and sweet non alcoholic drinks, while Adam no longer loved Eve romantically, it was so nice to have her as a friend*

Eve: If you need any help during the pregnancy I can be there for you, trust me I been through this a lot.

Adam: Thank you, I just don’t know why Luci can’t love me the way I love him.

Eve: Because he is an idiot who doesn’t realize what an amazing man you are and anyone would be blessed to have you love them.

*Adam just gave Eve a sad smile as they walked to another party, back in Hell Lucifer went to Adam’s apartment and knocked on the door only to have a very pissed Cain answer the door*

Cain: Haven’t you caused enough damage to dad?

Lucifer: Please, I just want to apologize and explain why I did what I did.

Cain: Well, he isn’t here right now, he went to Earth with mom so she could keep his mind off of you even if it is only for a few hours. You know it is really shitty that you keep breaking dad’s heart when all he ever wanted was for you to love him.

*Cain then slammed the door shut and Lucifer couldn’t blame him, he went to Earth and started to try looking for Adam and it seemed like he just kept missing them, though he was able to follow them since he heard others talking about people fitting the description of Adam and Eve, he was finally able to catch up to Adam and Eve at a party, he saw them dancing on a table together while the people watching them cheered, Adam even had his wings out since he could claim they were part of his costume, even with Adam smiling Lucifer could sense the heartbreak coming from Adam as he watched them get off the table and go over to a couch*

Eve: If you want to hook up with someone here I wouldn’t blame you.

Adam: I don’t know if I have it in me to do it, besides if I get with a human I would have a hard time explaining why I have a dick and pussy.

*they lounged on a couch and Eve placed Adam’s head on her lap while she ran her fingers through his hair, she tensed up when she saw Lucifer at the party, she didn’t want Adam to become even more distressed than he already was*

Eve: You know, New York City is boring now, we should go to LA now.

Adam: That sounds fun.

*Adam and Eve got up and went to a place where they could be alone so Adam could use the crystal to get them to California, Lucifer bit back a few curses when he realized that they moved on to the other side of the country, he couldn’t blame Eve for trying to keep Adam away from him, but he had to beg Adam for his forgiveness and decided to make his way to LA as well and begin the search for Adam and Eve again*

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Stoliz Au

Adam sipped on his coffee out of his "Hell's Greatest Boss" mug as he overlooked Pentagram City. His workers, Lute and Emily were at the conference table trying to figure out ways they could get to the human world.

Adams oldest son Cain sat there on his phone looking very interested in anything that had to do with work.

Here at Adams Angelic Assassination, they started out by protecting sinners. Either from other demons or from angels on extermination day.

Turns out people would pay a pretty penny to have someone on earth killed.

It has been a few years since Adam was cast out of heaven for questioning things. They took his halo and his powers before casting him down.

Lute and Emily didn't want him to be alone in Hell so they willingly fell. Adam reconnected with his son who was homeless at the time.

They all needed money so that's when Adam came up with the idea for his business.

Lute sighed: It's impossible! There is no way to the human releam without our angelic powers.

Emily: It's okay Lute, we'll figure something out.

Adam turned: She's right Lute! And I actually have a plan.

Lute: You do?

Adam: I do. I know of a book and where I can get it. It's our ticket up top.

Yes Adam knew where to get this book, but could he sneak in and out without being noticed.

Emily: How will you get it?

Adam smirked: Leave it to me and my stealth skills.

*Adam scouted out the royal palace, he knew the largest collection of demonic grimoires were housed in the Morningstar palace including one that could take him to Earth, thankfully Adam still had his angel wings so he fly over the gates surrounding the palace, there was a party going on, his eyes went to Lucifer who was off in a corner drinking while Lilith was talking with her friends, Adam’s heart filled with longing over seeing his first love, but Adam was here for a reason and it was to get a spell book, he hid his wings thankful for the all black outfit he took to wearing now that he could use to hide in the shadows, but before he could open the door to Lucifer’s room, he was tackled by a pair of hellhounds who dragged him to Lucifer*

Adam: Shit.

*Lucifer was chugging down a bottle of absinthe when he saw a pair of hellhound guards drag Adam in front of him, Adam had a sheepish smile on his face and he couldn’t help but realize how handsome Adam was, in fact he had a strong desire to pin Adam to the bed and have his way with him since he hadn’t shared a bed with Lilith since Charlie was born*

Hellhound 1: We saw this man trying to sneak into your room.

Hellhound 2: What should we do with him?

Lucifer: I will deal with him myself, don’t tell anyone what you saw.

*the hellhounds handed Adam over to Lucifer and the former angel reluctantly followed Lucifer up to his room, once they were alone Adam became nervous*

Adam: Look, I can explain-

*Adam’s words were cut off when Lucifer kissed him on the lips, Adam found himself returning the kiss enjoying the feeling*

Lucifer: I missed you so much Adam, in more ways than one.

*Adam felt himself getting wet with desire, one of the punishments was they took away Adam’s favorite thing, his dick, before throwing him out of Heaven and now he had a pussy instead much to his annoyance, but now he saw a way to use it to his advantage and it would give him something he had always wanted*

Adam: You realized what you missed out on and now you can have it.

Lucifer: Yes.

*they ended up on the bed, they kissed as they frantically pulled off their clothes down to their underwear, Lucifer rubbed the underwear covered erection against the wet area of Adam’s panties, they pulled off their underwear and Lucifer slid into Adam, Adam had to hold back a moan of pleasure by biting into Lucifer’s shoulder which made Lucifer even more turned on, Adam moved his hips along with Lucifer’s thrusts, after a long and passionate dance on the bed, Adam climaxed and Lucifer cum inside of Adam*

Lucifer: That was amazing, is there a way I could convince you to come around more often.

Adam: Maybe if you let me borrow a grimoire to help me with my new job.

Lucifer: Done, but you must come back to me at least once a month. How about full moon night?

*Lucifer had the grimoire appear in Adam’s hands*

Adam: Sounds perfect to me.

*they both fell asleep, Lucifer holding Adam and Adam holding the grimoire, in the morning Adam had to get dressed and sneak out, but before he could sprout his wings, he fell off the balcony and onto the table which had Lilith having breakfast with her friends.

Adam: Sorry, I fucked your husband….. actually I’m not sorry.

*Adam sprouted his wings and flew off*

@things-arent-what-they-seem66