#been dead set on finding them. going explosive at first. he doesn’t know who he is without richas and the federation twists arms like none

[zeb-z]

no ok because forevers solo mission into the nether and all the vague ‘if I don’t return’ and ‘I’m sorry’ messages he’s left behind is made all the more heart wrenching because he wasn’t meant to be the martyr.

bad has been setting himself up for tragedy. it’s in the self destructive choices he makes, his hyper paranoia, his self isolation, the way he’s literally turning blue and can’t seem to notice it himself. and from a meta perspective, it’s obvious - he talks about lasting consequences, he makes very clear framing and music decisions, the story arc has been setting up for something big. he’s got a book that says it’s for forever’s eyes only and hinted at him needing his help. he’s said to tina that he’s 100% sure of one person ending up dead at the end of all this. he’s made it clear he’d do anything he thinks would get the kids back - self sacrifice included.

it’s been an anxious build up as bad gets worse and worse. as his friends pick up clues and notice. bagi says she knows that bad lies and can cause havoc, but she’s not going to leave his side because he is too sad to be left alone. foolish takes note of his color blindness before anyone else. forever demands his time and reassures bad daily that he is there for him. gives him a flower every day. makes an entire party just showing how much bad is cared for and loved. keeps talking and visiting even when he’s ripping out his hair with annoyance because bad just won’t quit being a nuisance, or argumentative, or a probable kidnapper.

it feels like love and doomed endings. it feels like a build up to something tragic. it feels like trying to save a drowning man who won’t let anyone pull him up. because bad is ready to work for the feds, torture people, burn down anything in his way, sacrifice himself in his desperation and grief.

but now its forever who’s gone and decided any danger to himself is worth it for his son. who’s left behind vague goodbyes and see you soons, unsure if he’ll survive but set on the kids surviving at the very least. he’s already decided his death is worth it.

and while it’s not a surprise, it’s enough of a script flip to punch us all in the gut. because we expected tragedy, we expected uneasy goodbyes and self destructive choices and that effect felt across the island - but we didn’t expect it to be forever.

and neither did bad - who relied on that flower every day

[lightwise]

WHY MAYDAY IS A MIRROR OF REX (AND ALL OF CROSSHAIR’S BROTHERS)

AKA How Crosshair predicted his own redemption arc.

There have been many comparisons made between Mayday and Rex/The Bad Batch, but I have kept myself from ranting about The Outpost for too long and I figured I should get this out there before this week’s new episode hits. 

Crosshair is cynical and snarky when we meet him in The Clone Wars (as is the norm for his personality, but there’s a special edge to it in S7 E1). The first words out of his mouth are “we don’t usually work with regs.”

(I am not sure who first posted this image set, so if you know who to credit please reach out).

Now in TBB E12, the episode opens with Crosshair watching regular clones being told about the retirement bill by an imperial officer. His helmet is off and they have no armor on. He’s face to face with them. He seems interested in their conversation but is still removed, separate. He still thinks this doesn't affect him.

Once he ships out to Barton 4, we meet Mayday by hearing his voice before he rounds the corner into our view. The immediate thought that flew into my mind was, “that’s Rex’s voice.” Other than Rex himself, we as the audience and especially Crosshair as a character have not heard that warm, snarky, calm tone that signifies that commanding officer’s “regular clone voice” much this season. Mayday’s voice is a little deeper than Rex’s, but he has the same commanding yet casual tone and demeanor. As weary and frustrated as he is at the lack of support from the Empire, Mayday chooses to express it with a level of snarkiness that would have made Tech, Echo, or Rex himself proud. 

Or as Rex once said, "It's Captain, sir."

"Experience outranks everything."

Mayday and his squad are wrapped in mummified cloth strips, and he states that his men are all “dead. We’re all that’s left.” Three of them, to mimic the three troopers being forced into retirement that Crosshair had seen before arriving. They are dead men walking. And so are the rest of the clones. 

Mayday brings the light to Crosshair. And starts talking to him, man to man, like a friend. Like a brother. He asks him his name. Crosshair’s first encounters with Rex were Rex going after Echo, pulling him free from mindless programming and reminding him what his name really was. 

“What brought you here.” “Just lucky, I guess.” Luck isn’t a word that Crosshair typically uses to describe his experiences. He usually relies on and points out his superiority, his skills, his uniqueness. He knows he hasn’t engineered this meeting, and yet Mayday’s mannerisms are already starting to find the chinks in his metaphorical armor. 

“I’ll give you the lay of the land.” Like Hunter would. “Conditions have degraded our equipment.” Like Tech could have helped with. “I’m not an explosives expert.” Wrecker is. 

Mayday lays out the helmets of his fallen squad in a memorial, the same way Rex and Ahsoka do after order 66. Reverence and respect for the dead, even when it seems meaningless. Crosshair has let himself be deadened by the Empire, yet Mayday treats him with interest and respect, drawing him back out of himself. Mayday even shows the same respect for the raider who had been attacking his base, saying that he was bothered that his men had left him there to die. 

Crosshair is still throwing up his shields, like he did at the end of season 1 when he tried to convince his brothers to join him. “We’re not like the regs, we never have been. We’re superior.” 

And all of a sudden, Crosshair will die if Mayday doesn’t save him. If he doesn’t fully trust him to disarm the pressure mine he has gotten himself into. He has continued to choose to step in places that are a pressure mine waiting to go off, waiting to swallow him whole. And until now he has made enemies of anyone who has tried to help him.

Mayday saves his life, and now they’re working as a team, silently and in unison. They realize that all this effort and loss of life has been for mere equipment (that’s for their replacements, no less). Their lives really are worth even less than the epithet "used equipment" that Nolan spits in Crosshair’s face when they first meet. 

Hunter had tried to tell him on Kamino: “Can’t you see they’re using you? We’re loyal to each other, not some empire.”

Crosshair: “YOU weren’t loyal to me. I was one of you. You may have forgotten, but I haven’t. I’m going to give you what you never gave me–a chance.” Only now, after Mayday gave him that chance, is he willing to admit that Hunter was right.

How many times have those words haunted Crosshair’s thoughts?

Now this was interesting to me. Crosshair incidentally causes an avalanche by targeting a group of explosives in order to end their shootout, cracks fissuring up the mountainside. Once before he was maneuvered into a situation not of his own free will (when his chip is enhanced on Kamino), yet he stubbornly pursued that scenario when he chose to stay on the platform at the end of season 1. Once again, he is put into a situation against his will by being brought to Barton 4, but this time, he ends up creating a scenario where his choices from this moment will now have the opposite effect.

Mayday shoves Crosshair out of the way, saving his life once again. A pile of snow rips Crosshair’s helmet off of his face, and as Mayday is buried, Crosshair re-emerges his true self. 

“We have to move.” Rex’s words throughout almost all of their Clone Wars arc. Rex is selfless, telling Echo to go with the Batch if that was the best place for him. Letting Echo leave him behind, essentially. Mayday begs Crosshair to leave him behind and save himself. They both want what’s best for others. And their examples rub off on the men they save. Echo constantly does what he can to help his brothers escape the Empire. Crosshair’s sheer stubbornness that up until now has kept him tethered to the Empire, refuses to leave Mayday behind. He can’t watch another brother die in front of him. Not anymore. 

"You're still their brother, Crosshair. You're my brother too." Omega's plea to him.

So Crosshair risks his life to carry Mayday back. A REG. He refuses to let go of him the whole journey. He lets him use his sniper rifle as a crutch. All of his defenses are finally down, and he not only cares, but is willing to show he cares, BEGS ON HIS KNEES to his commanding officer for help, to show that he DOES CARE.

Finally, this struck me. We almost never see Crosshair using a hand blaster. He’s a sniper. Yet both in his encounter with his brothers on Kamino in season 1, and his confrontation with Nolan here, Crosshair picks up a regular blaster. He’s not being the sniper, distant and removed, making a kill from afar with his own rifle. This is up close, personal, a messy choice. With a hand blaster, a regular clone’s weapon. 

Crosshair’s conversation with Hunter on Kamino reads back as though he is pleading with himself to not make the same mistake twice, to stop running from his fears, to finally embrace who he is–a clone. To embrace his real purpose–protecting his brothers.  He’s made his choice. He doesn’t expect to survive. The vultures are circling both of them. In season 1 Hunter stuns him and he falls to his knees and then to the floor, passing out. Here, he snarls “Lieutenant,” in a sarcastic tribute to how Mayday had first addressed Nolan, and becomes an Angel of Death. He avenges Mayday and redeems himself, and once again falls forward and passes out with the last of his strength gone.

[cultofdixon]

Trapped

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Terminus was a hell for everyone that experienced it. But you were the only one out of them all to have lived there and you saw EVERYTHING. Even lost a part of you to get you in line. That when the next community opened its doors, you were the last one adjusting • ANGST/SFW • TW: Canon Violence / Cannibals / Missing Appendage / Injuries / Scars / Anxiety Attacks / Claustrophobia / PTSD / Nightmares

Requested by: Anon

The explosion took all of their attentions away from what was about to happen. The two butchers behind the four kneeling men looked at Gareth for answers while he left in search of them.

“Should we continue?”

“I’m not sure—-hey” One of them got distracted leaving Rick’s window to be open but when he heard what’s next— “You’re not allowed in here. Where did you—-“ the gun fired making them all flinch and turn around quickly to find Y/N. Y/N…

The gun in hand was Rick’s, and it was handed to him after said retired sheriff broke loose taking out the second butcher as she took care of releasing the three still tied. Daryl didn’t hesitate to bring her into his embrace holding onto her for a short while relaxing every negative thought from the time apart. Glenn noticed her hands on Daryl’s back and quickly made the two part so that he could get a better look at the missing pinky and ringer finger of her right hand.

“How long have you been here?”

“Who the fuck did this to you?!”

“Y/N. What are we dealing—-“

“Cannibals. Fucking human eating human beings!” Y/N snaps handing Rick back his gun as he took her hand to see the damage himself. “I’m not gonna like what you’re plotting am I?”

“You know where our stuff is being held if you had my gun. We can find a lighter”

Y/N helped her group get their weapons back, along with anything else they might have taken. Resulting in the next actions being Daryl holding Y/N’s body still as Glenn held her hand for Rick to heat up his knife and pressed the heated material against the stubs where her fingers were to stop the bleeding and start the healing process.

“You know I’m a doctor right?”

“Would you do this in the green zone?”

“As a last resort” Bob states grabbing a left over bandana and wrapping it around their wound securely and temporarily. Until they find actual medical supplies. “What…did they do to your…?”

“You don’t wanna know” Y/N frowns as her words made Daryl tighten around her for a second before the small group had to retrieve the others and leave this shithole.

The reunions made the pain hurt less. But there was still something lingering there…that got triggered by the downhill spiral they all endured.

The cannibals finding and eating part of Bob

Bob dying

Finding out Eugene was useless

Finding out Beth was alive…but dead when reunited

Tyreese dying

Starving themselves

Almost dying to a herd trapped in a barn

Then the stranger that promises a safe haven, and going to such with hesitation. Y/N kept to herself as the group followed the stranger named Aaron and his partner Eric. She found herself lingering to the back watching the place come to view with more guards, another fence, and most likely another set of rules with harsh consequences. At least that’s the state of mind she’s going in with.

“Hey…come on” Maggie pulls her out of her thoughts wrapping her arm around her and walking inside the place with Y/N. “We’ve got yea. I don’t think anything bad will happen here…”

“And if it does?”

“You’ve got us” Sasha reassures joining the two as they made their way into Alexandria.

Daryl kept his attention on Y/N the entire time since they first entered Alexandria. She has Sasha and Maggie currently but it’s always nice to have another set of eyes as long as he doesn’t stare for too long. He was making sure nothing overwhelmed her or triggered her because she hasn’t sit still since arriving.

“Y/N is staying in the first floor bedroom” Carol informs Daryl who didn’t want to be inside the homes for too long in case anything happened. But he also wanted to make sure Y/N stayed in one place to avoid the worrying of where she’s at. “The surgeon here patched up her hand, what Rick and you guys did was a bit much but he would’ve done the same if he were you”

“The son of a bitch doesn’t look like he’s stepped out of this place since the beginning”

“Regardless. Y/N hasn’t slept since the fall of the prison and if you’re not leaving the porch to yknow take a much needed shower or to scowl at one of the pretty boys…if anything happens, Y/N will need you.”

Daryl knew this already, but Carol knew a part of him was still hurting. Blaming himself for Beth’s death. Beating himself up for not finding Y/N and having her suffer the horrors of that place the longest. He wasn’t going to leave his spot unless something bad happened.

Y/N sat up in her bed to be met with a dark room, only light was on her. She felt her fingers seeing that they were there, until a hand came into view grabbing her wrist and yanking her forward.

The woman fell out of bed on her hands and knees as the light only followed her. She gasps to the sudden pain returning to her ribs as she fell through the floor landing straight on her side.

As the prison fills into the world surrounding Y/N, she looks at her person finding the damage from the fall of the prison littered on her body. Weakness from recovering from being sick…and the bruised ribs from an explosion knocking her off the second floor to the first in A block.

Need to get out

Need to get out

Need to get…

Y/N found herself sitting up in restraints in a cold building. Felt like a freezer of a warehouse. She scans around the once dark again room as footsteps echoed in the darkness. Revealing Gareth who held a nutcracker behind his back.

“You stumbled in our community, and killed one of our own”

She couldn’t speak.

“You’ll suffer the consequences…and then work for me. Unless you’d want to lose another finger” Gareth smirks as Y/N suddenly screams in pain to find one of her fingers missing. “Just. Cooperate…and you can live here.”

Suddenly Y/N was on her back gripping onto the set of hands gripping her throat staring up at one of the butchers who had enough of her attitude. Gareth appears beside him watching the light in her face but right before she passed out, he made the man let go.

“Another”

The sudden screaming caught Daryl off guard as he stops talking to Glenn about the asshole sons of Deanna to rush into the home. Glenn of course followed in case something worse was happening but as he joined the scene watching Daryl get swatted away from Y/N’s fetal position in the corner of the room. He quickly grabbed the back of Daryl’s vest pulling him away causing a bit of a fight.

“The hell are you doing?!”

“She’s still having the nightmare” Glenn points out the fact that she’s never opened her eyes since he arrived and given when Daryl first entered she didn’t know instantly that it was him. “You need to be more careful”

“Right…Fuck” Daryl frowns taking it slow and approaching Y/N’s curled position grabbing the blanket off the bed.

“It’s okay. Y/N…you’re not where you’re at” Glenn whispers approaching along with the archer in case she retaliated. “You are in a house…that you share with Carol…and Daryl…in the new community. That is scary…and full of new people…”

“But we’re here…” Daryl states watching her body relax slowly. “You ain’t alone like back at Terminus……we reunited. We’re safe. You are safe”

The two stopped when her body relaxed enough for Daryl to bring the blanket around her without any freak out. When she woke she retracted a bit making Daryl back off and Glenn shoot out reassurance until she relaxed again but conscious.

“You had a nightmare”

“That triggered sleepwalking or I don’t know what you’d call being asleep but acting the nightmare.” Glenn sat on the bed as Y/N curled up with the blanket around her with Daryl keeping his hands on her knees. “Uhm. I know the timing is terrible but what happened in the nightmare?”

“Felt more like a night terror…but uh…I don’t really want to talk about it”

“That’s fine. Just know you’ve got us whenever you’re ready to talk about it” Glenn got up from the bed. “Do you want anything before Daryl can—-“

“I’m okay…thank you Glenn”

Once he left, Daryl got up from the floor to help Y/N off the ground. He directs her back to bed sitting on the edge once she got in entirely covering herself more in the blanket.

“Imma ask, if yea need anything before I grab assumptions”

“…my hand hurts”

“Pain meds it is” Daryl pats her knee getting up to grab what she’ll need leaving her alone for a moment.

Y/N brought her knees to her chest covering her entire person with the blanket Daryl wrapped around her shoulders earlier. She wanted to make herself small for just a second to find some sense of calm…even when her heart was still racing like it did when she was in Terminus.

The night of the party came and Daryl wasn’t going to go. Because he hates that shit and wants to be there for Y/N, who hasn’t left her room since receiving it. He kept to the porch as he smoked to clear his mind of the mental toll she could be experiencing when Aaron walked by.

“Not going to the party?”

“Nah, I’ve got shit to take care of”

Aaron nods thinking about his next response before just going for it. “Want some dinner? I wasn’t gonna go because of Eric so we’re staying in”

“I uh…” Daryl turned toward the house expecting Y/N’s bubbly self to come out but that was taken from everybody. “Y/N hasn’t left the house and—“

“You don’t wanna leave your partner. I get it” Aaron smiles. “But if you come by. For just. 15 minutes. You can eat…grab a plate for her” he offers and left on that note.

Fifteen minutes…

And he didn’t have to worry about it one bit. Daryl came back actually past fifteen minutes to find Y/N in the kitchen in fresh clothes and grabbing a glass of water. He joins her at the kitchen island setting down the bowl of spaghetti he brought for her from Aaron’s.

“The party?”

“Nah. Wouldn’t go to that shit without yea. Just went to Aaron’s for dinner” Daryl watches her inspect it. “I had two plates. It ain’t poisoned.”

“Thank you for bringing me dinner…” Her smile returns to her as it always brought a sense of warmth to Daryl.

Daryl brought himself beside her while she ate her dinner in the comforts of his presence. Y/N finishes her dinner and put the bowl in the sink to wash later…feeling Daryl come up behind her wrapping his arms around her torso resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry you were stuck there…”

“You don’t have to apologize, Dar…we’re safe now” Y/N rubs his forearm gently. “Right?”

“M’not leavin’ anymore. You’re stuck with me now” Daryl smiles listening to her laugh that he missed so much.

“Good”

[pongnosis]

The first, unedited section of a sequel to the Yassen-dies AU (... so an AU of an AU that refused to leave me alone until I put it down on paper, because that's what I need in my writing life) in which the Commander of Yassen's security team/babysitters/personal problem solvers finds himself the unwilling victim of a time travel fix-it and has to stop the whole shitshow somehow.

In which everyone fucking lives or by God, he going to fucking murder them himself.

Hill is surrounded by dead people. This is not unusual, given that he’s in command of a SCORPIA hunter-killer team, but these ones are walking, talking, breathing people that died a year ago and haven’t realised it.

Hill is pretty sure it’s a nightmare. More vivid and coherent than most he’s had about that day but still a nightmare. Trapped in a situation he knows exactly how will play out and with no way to change anything. He’s lost counts of the nightmares where he’s yelled and screamed and shot people and nothing changed. Where everyone around him carried on without seeing him, walking towards certain, inexorable doom.

Gregorovich appears from his office and Hill recites the words in his mind even as the man starts talking.

“Change of plans, Commander. Arrange for transportation to M’Hamid base. We depart within the hour.”

“That’s not enough time to arrange for security, sir.” Hill has made that objection before – not when it mattered, not when it could have changed things, but in every nightmare since. He knows it will change nothing now. He has to try, anyway. “We will need at least four hours to ensure the location is secure.”

“Speed and anonymity will compensate.”

Gregorovich sounds so sure of himself and Hill has wondered, night after night, if the man was really that confident in his risk assessment or if whatever had been in that phone call – and a year later, they still didn’t know the details – had been important enough to run the risk.

“Not if the threat is internal.” Which is a valid concern given that the rat-fucker who had been behind the assassination had been an internal threat in the first place; the first volley in a cowardly would-be coup, and Gregorovich should know this given that he took out most of the old Board himself.

“Commander,” Gregorovich begins and something in Hill snaps.

“Don’t make me call Orion. Sir.”

The only person more invested in Gregorovich’s safety than Hill is, and sure, they’ve had a rocky start after – everything but Hill knows that in this matter, Orion will back him up without hesitation.

Gregorovich pauses. It reminds Hill of a particularly vindictive viper laying in wait.

“Threats, Commander?” he asks mildly.

“Promises,” Hill responds flatly. “My job is to ensure your security and survival against all threats, sir. Yourself included.”

The silence stretches on. When is the last time someone told Gregorovich no, outside of Orion in a particular vicious mood? Based on how long it takes his Imaginary Boss’ brain to go through what has to be a mental reboot of the factory settings, the answer is a long fucking time.

Hill knows how it goes. In a moment, Gregorovich will refuse, Hill will try to stop him, stop his team, stop anyone, but no one will see him and his hand will go through anything he touches – like he’s the ghost instead of them – and he will wake up drenched in sweat and with the smell of explosives and burned concrete in his nose as the world disappears in a fireball around him.

Gregorovich nods slightly. Opens his mouth, and -

“… Very well, Commander. Alert me when arrangements have been made.”

- Hill’s brain grinds to a halt.

Because Gregorovich listens.

And Hill doesn’t wake up.

[olibensstuff]

I don't know if someone has already asked this, but I would, in fact, like to hear about this mission impossible au :3

It sounds so exciting and action-packed!

OK OK THIS IS GONNA BE A SUPER LONG POST YOU GUYS HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!

this is THE most self indulgent au I think I’ve ever made it appeals to me specifically!! Below the cut is the whole au plus some scribbles and sketches!!!

SO this takes place a few days pre episode one of tmnt 2012!! Which means these guys have NEVER left the lair before!! Something Bad Happens in the sewers I’m thinking explosion?? But the government goes in to check it out, where they discover the turtles!!! Splinter got very very hurt during sewer explosion and did not make it. When the gov finds the turtles, they’re coping with splints death and are Not doing well. The gov was going to take them in to study them, but the IMF get involved and offer them the Choice instead. Become a ghost and disappear, or be studied in a lab. Leo makes the decision for everyone

OK OK SO after that they wind up doing tons of super cool missions and stuff for the IMF. Raph is really angry at Leo for agreeing because he doesn’t like doing what some government wants them to do. He just wants to find a new sewer and go back to how things were (which they can’t really do anyways cause splinters dead). This leads to sort of destructive habits for a little while cause he’s so angry at his situation and lack of control in it

I DO WANNA ADD THEY GET HUMAN DISGUISES!!! They use fake backpacks to hide their shells and the rest of the disguise is literally just how they make disguises in the movie with all that cool tech!! I haven’t drawn many of them but here’s Raphs!!

I’ve got Mikey’s too but you’ll see that in a sec😚😚

OKOK SO THERES THAT CONFLICT GOING ON but the other bros are also coping?? Obviously it’s a lot of changes out of no where so they’re have an Experience

Dons a lot more deadpan- but in a silly way I promise

See????? Silly goofy🥺

Mikey’s stays the same for the most part!! He does have a bigger sense of responsibility though cause he wants to keep the family together while they’re constantly pulling off these crazy missions. here’s the crew and their roles!!

** Leo’s part is supposed to say “final say on plans” sorry😔😔 OK OK NOW THAT THATS OUT OF THE WAY HERES THE MAIN AU PLOT!!!

so the crew have done a couple of missions now, and they get one to figure out what’s going on at the TCRI cause a bunch of scientists have started going missing around that buildings area. The crew set up a plan, break in, only to discover it’s ran by aliens!! Who might have something to do with how the turtles came to exist in the first place!! And what’s worse is that there’s two teenagers caught up in the mix

introducing April and Casey!!

Mikey runs into them first and after they INSIST on helping he gets them roped into the whole thing.

Don doesn’t see April or Casey cause he’s doing guy in the chair stuff, so he isn’t crushing on April for this story BUT his and Casey’s relationship is still how it is in the show sort of

I just. I just really love their dynamic. It’s so funny to me. So silly….

in the end they take down all the Kraang after a bunch of cool action fights, raph and Leo make up, and everyone is happy yippee

SORRY THAT WAS LONG AND VERY INFODUMPY I CAME UP WITH THIS AT 12 AM AFTER WATCHING THE MOVIE FOR THE FIRST TIME SO ITS KINDA INCOHERENT

[megamindsupremacy]

Team Red fic recs

(Or ya know, at least 2 out of the 3 of them)

How to make friends:an essay by Peter Parker by softlyblue

me: hey have u seen twitter

matt: i haven’t seen twitter no

me: that stopped being funny about 203738 years ago

dont interact (wade): dont listen 2 him bby ur hilarious

Daredevil and Deadpool and Spiderman. The only thing - the only thing - they have in common is the red in their suits.

And, apparently, their unique ability to put up with one another.

-

Spider season by selador

Peter Parker is Ben Urich's intern at the Bulletin. He's alright, as far as interns go. Bad coffee, but he fights crime bosses who want Ben dead. That wins a lot of points with Ben, that's for sure.

-

How to (not) meet new people by aloneintherain

“Why is there a teenager in our office?”

Foggy stood in the threshold of the office, mouth slightly agape, most likely wondering if he’d walked into the wrong building. The kid waved at him, smile huge under a blooming black eye and spilt lip.

“Foggy,” Matt said, far too calm for someone who was in the presence of a beaten, bloodied, teenage stranger. “This is Peter.”

-

The devil and the unknown by Phoenixyfriend

The boy doesn’t approach him as Daredevil. Not at first.

“Hello, Mister Murdock, you don’t remember me, nobody, um, remembers me—no, no, that sounds dumb.”

“Hi, Mister Murdock! I’m Peter Parker, and I kind of stopped being a person, a few months ago, and you helped me once and I was hoping you could help me find out if I still have a social security number? No, that’s worse.”

“Hi, I’m Peter Parker. You don’t remember me, but you helped me once, and I know you help people who are in… weird situations. There was a wizard involved. I don’t know if I’m legally a citizen anymore, and… no, that doesn’t… heck.”

-

Inimitable Verse by deniigiq

“Peter, is it supposed to be doing that?” One of his students asked him. He looked up to see the industrial-strength magnets he’d collected for this lab trying to crack through the glass between them to be reunited. The glass splintered.

“Yeah, no. That’s totally fine,” he lied. Then he inconspicuously chased everyone to the corner of the lab, donned a glove, and smashed the glass so that it wouldn’t splinter and stab someone in the eye in its explosion.

His students cheered.

He needed a drink.

(Peter gets called back to the city at the age of 25 to help mitigate the rapidly increasing crime rate. He's in way over his head, so he sets out to re-establish Team Red.)

-

The Teenage Vigilante's Guide by candlesneedflame

While Tony's assistance with all of Peter's technological needs has been invaluable, he hasn't managed to be much of a mentor when it comes to the actual hero aspect of being a powered person. After a chance encounter, Peter finds himself being mentored by none other than Daredevil with no shortage of guest-taught lessons from the older vigilante's friends and acquaintances. This exposure to the grittier side of the city and vigilantism as a whole leads Peter to discover a conspiratorial plot to destroy New York City.

[shagpaboloutpost]

Set in my Dead Brothers Rescue Coalition au, because my brain won’t let it go: in the simplest of terms, this is a Domino Squad lives au and the war is over now; Hevy spent some time in the Coruscant Guard befriending my oc Nel who helped him and the rest of Domino stop Palpatine and reveal the truth about the chips. There’s a lot more context but it doesn’t play into this snippet too much, since it is very oc-centric

(Part Two; Part Three is coming soon)

It was the first time Tibanna had been to Coruscant since… he didn’t remember. He’d been once. He’d hidden in the barracks the whole time, sure that if he set foot on the streets every red-clad clone on the planet would know and treat him accordingly.

Not a terribly rational fear, but his more rational brain agreed with the outcome anyway if not the logic.

Assignment to Shag Pabol had been a gift. He’d never have to go to Coruscant again, and never risk running into a Guard who knew about him.

Now the war was over, and clones were being recalled to the Core in batches of a hundred, so they could be questioned at length about what they wanted out of life. The Jedi did it compassionately, at least; the Senate was clearly doing it because they were worried about money. For Tibanna, who’d had to spend the entire flight here listening to Starcatcher ask the same questions, it was all torture.

And what the hell was he meant to answer, anyway? His life was Shag Pabol. It was always supposed to be Shag Pabol. Who wanted a bomb defused by someone who couldn’t stand the sight of explosives? Who wanted demolitions done by a man who’d try anything but demolition? Even Wraith hadn’t wanted him, until he saw that Tibanna wasn’t about to let anyone get hurt for his shortcomings.

“Think bigger!” Starcatcher had urged him. “It’s not about doing what you’ve been doing. If you could do anything in the galaxy, what would you do?”

“I’d shove you out an airlock,” Widow had said from two seats down. A couple clones – mostly Tibanna’s squad – had snickered. Tyrant had drawn herself upright, eyes blazing.

“Widow,” she said coldly. Widow’s mouth had closed with a click. Tyrant had looked over at Starcatcher.

“Give Tibanna time to think it over,” she’d advised, flicking a sympathetic glance his way. “What are your plans?”

Starcatcher had a million of them, which if you asked Tibanna meant he wasn’t any more decisive about it than those of them who had no answer at all. But he had a feeling if he pushed his luck Tyrant would come down hard on all of them, and Wraith would be glad to watch. It was always dangerous when those two were together.

The peace only lasted so long. Not being separated by squad meant time to form new alliances, and potentially dangerous ones at that. Tibanna knew the night would go wrong when Festival called his name with Teal, Turquoise, Magenta, and Starcatcher at his back.

“You’re coming out with us, right?”

“Festival…” Tibanna searched for an excuse that wouldn’t give away how much he didn’t want to be here.

“Come on! No fireworks in bars, after all. Every clone in the army’s been to 79’s but us.”

“I’ve been,” Starcatcher offered.

“Everyone including Starcatcher but not us,” Festival said. “Tibanna. What’s the issue this time? I know you’re not actually allergic to fun.”

He sighed.

“Fine,” he said. “Fine, but only so I can keep you idiots from crashing a speeder into a wall once you’re drunk.”

“Oh, thank the Force,” Magenta said. “I didn’t want to go. You can deal with them.”

“Wait –“ Tibanna said, alarmed, but Magenta was already gone. He looked at the assembled clones with a sinking feeling: Festival, Starcatcher, Teal, and Turquoise.

“Please tell me Wraith or Ty will be there,” he said faintly.

“Not sure,” Festival said. “Only one way to find out!”

Wraith was there, and Festival whooped with delight as soon as they saw him. Teal leaned over to Turquoise, muttering something in his ear with a dirty look at Wraith. Tibanna may not be Magenta, but he knew their plotting faces when he saw them. He put an arm around each of them and hauled them after Festival to the booth where Wraith sat.

“Sergeant! Hi!” Starcatcher said delightedly. Wraith turned, and Tibanna froze. He barely noticed when Teal and Turquoise wriggled out of his grip. There were two clones sitting opposite Wraith. One wore civilian clothing. The other was fully kitted out in Coruscant Guard red, their helmet sitting on the table beside them.

“I don’t think this is the party you’re looking for,” Wraith said, but he scooted over to let Festival sit anyway. Tibanna knew he was standing there like an idiot, but he didn’t know what to do.

“What are you up to, sir? Catching up with old friends from your Intelligence days?” Starcatcher asked.

“Classified,” Wraith said.

“Banthashit, the army’s disbanded!” Turquoise blurted, apparently more eager to push his luck than he was to escape Wraith’s watchful eye altogether. “Nothing’s classified anymore.”

The clone without armour laughed.

“You’d be surprised,” they said. Teal perked up; Tibanna couldn’t blame her. This vod had a unique accent.

“Sergeant!” Teal whispered. “Sergeant, that’s the one from the recording!”

“Told you I’d be famous, Hevy,” they said. The Coruscant Guard groaned and shoved their friend.

“Ignore him,” Hevy said. “They’re the only people we know actually saw the thing, anyway.”

“That we know of,” he replied. “Hey, Hevy, scoot over, they’re still stuck standing there.”

“There’s plenty of space!” Hevy protested.

“I’m fine,” Tibanna said. “I was just – uh –“

Wraith was watching him now. Of course Wraith would notice something was wrong.

“What’s this about a recording?” Starcatcher asked.

“I found this recording in our systems,” Teal said eagerly. “After a security breach a couple months back? The one where nothing happened? And Ty and Sergeant Wraith said to keep it quiet – oh. Sorry, sir.”

“It’s not sensitive anymore,” Wraith said. “Right?”

“We just don’t want to advertise it, in case somebody doesn’t like how much time we spent breaking and entering,” said the clone with the accent. Wraith nodded. He looked up at Tibanna again, but looked away without saying anything.

“Right,” Teal said. “That’s… Was it true, then? All the things the recording said?”

Wraith pursed his lips.

“Your unit is scheduled to have your chips removed tomorrow morning,” said Hevy quietly. “We didn’t make an army-wide announcement, because the Senate is being awful as it is.”

That we was strange to hear. Hevy wasn’t a high-ranking clone, going off the armour. But they talked like these decisions had been theirs to make. Tibanna wondered again about the details of the war’s sudden end.

“Sir, if you knew about this how come we didn’t?” Starcatcher asked, sounding hurt. He was the only one. Tibanna and Festival were both used to the way Wraith operated, and Teal had obviously told Turquoise right away.

“Op sec,” Wraith said, ignoring Festival as she mouthed it with him. “Need to know only.”

“Do we get the story now?” Starcatcher asked plaintively. Everyone very visibly leaned in. Hevy nudged their vod. The other clone nudged back. Wraith groaned.

“It’s classified –“

“I’m not getting their drinks.”

Another Coruscant Guard nudged Tibanna gently out of the way with an elbow, setting down drinks for Hevy, Wraith, and the other clone. They sat next to Hevy with a wince and a sigh. As the light hit their cheek, Tibanna knew why. They’d grown their hair out, keeping it tied in a loose braid, and an intricate-looking tattoo peeked out from their sleeve, curling a little tail across the back of their ungloved hand. Those things didn’t matter. Tibanna knew the shape of the scars he’d given them.

“Shrapnel,” he blurted.

Everyone stared but Shrapnel, who curled their hand around their glass and didn’t look up.

“I was hoping that wasn’t you,” they said quietly.

“Nel?” Hevy asked.

“How deep does this dark secret thing go?” Starcatcher complained.

“Go order your drinks,” Wraith commanded the others, picking up on the implications in an instant just like always. Tibanna liked his sergeant most days, but he’d never been quite so grateful for him before. Teal and Festival took their cues, pushing Starcatcher and Turquoise with them. Wraith stood, setting a hand on Tibanna’s arm.

“Do you two need a minute?”

“It won’t take a minute,” Shrapnel said. “There’s nothing to say.”

Wraith looked from one vod to the other, obviously calculating something.

“We may not be friends, Nel,” he said. “But I think mutual informants owe each other something, and I ought to tell you that Tibanna’s one of the best I’ve ever worked with. More careful and considerate than most of my squad, and thinks everything through. It means he’s not half bad at talking those things through, either, if you let him.”

“This has nothing to do with you, sergeant,” Shrapnel said. “I’m sure you’re proud to stand up for your troops.”

“Nel, what the –“ Hevy hissed.

“I’m leaving, actually,” Shrapnel announced, visibly struggling to their feet. Tibanna’s guilt twisted over and around itself in his stomach. “Don’t want to bring your party down.”

“Shrapnel, wait,” Tibanna said, finally finding his voice as he grabbed for their wrist frantically. “Please, I – how have you been?”

“In pain,” they said shortly. “And that’s not my name.” They shook him off and walked away.

“You’re Nel’s batchmate,” Hevy said.

“Is this supposed to mean something to the rest of us?” their brother whispered. Hevy swatted him.

“I’ll tell you later, Cutup,” they said. “You are, aren’t you?”

Tibanna managed to nod.

“Shrapnel is a pretty cruel joke of a name,” Hevy said coldly.

“This coming from the man who named Droidbait?” Cutup muttered into his drink. Judging by his wince a second later, Hevy had kicked him.

“I didn’t – They were Shrapnel before it happened,” Tibanna protested weakly. He sank into a seat at last, more because he didn’t trust his legs to hold him than because he wanted to be here.

“Tibanna,” Wraith said. “What’s going on?”

Tibanna got the feeling Wraith already knew; he knew what Tibanna had done, just not who he’d done it to. The fact that Shrapnel – Nel and Wraith had known each other from Coruscant was a surprise. He was glad he’d never dropped Nel’s old name. Wraith was clever enough to put the pieces together.

“You know,” Tibanna said. Hevy was watching him like a judge. Cutup looked worried. He wished Festival would come back. He could use a squadmate. “I wasn’t careful, and I wanted to show off. Nel had an idea, some theory they wanted to test, and I loved going along with that kind of thing. I walked away to get something, leaving unstable compounds behind, and…”

He tried to say it all with the cadence of a briefing, something he’d learned a long time ago from Wraith to keep the feelings out of it. He almost made it through.

“I’m going after her,” Hevy announced, standing up. He looked Tibanna over with a neutral expression. Tibanna had assumed that was an Intelligence thing, when Wraith did it, but maybe it was just a Coruscant thing. The music and lights in the bar shifted, and for a moment Hevy looked like Nel had on that awful day. Tibanna dropped his head into his hands. The last thing he needed was to hallucinate from guilt.

“Hevy,” Cutup hissed.

“I know,” he hissed back. “Just – you can just drink your drink, all right?”

“Like hell,” Cutup said. Tibanna dug his fingers into his scalp, refusing to look up at whatever display of brotherly devotion was in front of him. He didn’t deserve it.

“Nel won’t talk to you, anyway,” Hevy said. “I’ll be back.”

Wraith sat gingerly beside Tibanna, who refused to look up.

“If I’d known I knew your batchmate…” he began awkwardly.

Now Tibanna did look up, the better to fix his sergeant with a doleful glare.

“What would you have said, sir? What could you say?”

Wraith’s moustache twitched unhappily. With a look of extreme discomfort, he gingerly wrapped an arm around Tibanna’s shoulders.

“You’re still a terrible hugger, sir,” Tibanna informed him, but he appreciated the gesture. From the look Wraith gave him, equal parts tired and amused and fond, he knew.

“Uh,” Cutup said. “Do you want to hear about the crazy Force parts of ending the war, or should I not try to distract you?”

“Please tell me about anything that doesn’t involve Nel,” Tibanna said. Cutup made a face.

“Crazy Force shit it is.”

[theprincessandherloyalprotector]

Six years after the fall of the Republic, the fall of his clone brothers, and the capture of his brother. Six years, and Hunter is just now starting to get pissed enough to do something about it.

Cody and Crosshair have been in there far too long. And now that he’s working with Ahsoka and the Rebellion, now that the entire group has grown stronger, it’s time to fight back. To use all the resources necessary to attack the Empire head on.

It starts with something simple, like a protest at an Imperial rally. Something to catch the Empire’s attention- but it doesn’t work. Vader is used to people getting mouthy.

So, the Rebels turn to Imperial scout groups. Men come back injured, some of them dead. Still not much of an irritation for Vader.

Then Ahsoka had the bright idea to attack actual Imperial bases, sending groups of bombers to several different locations.

When Vader gets word that a few of his bases have been completely destroyed, everyone in them murdered by the Rebellion, he starts to get furious. He sends Cody and Crosshair on a scouting mission of their own to figure out who exactly is behind it, turning the entire living room upside down when he hears it’s his long lost padawan.

“Of course it is. Of course it would be her after all I did for her.” He rambled. And after those ramblings came several counter attacks to Rebel bases, though he didn’t do as much damage as Ahsoka had.

The final step of Hunter’s plan, months in the making, is to infiltrate the palace itself.

He can’t sit by and watch Cody and Crosshair be used as pawns in Vader’s game anymore. They’re haunted- they have to be. Haunted by what they must do day in and day out, controlled by the chip and the Sith Lord himself. It sickens him. Sickens him to his very core.

One morning, when he’s certain that every single one of you is in the palace, he launches his attack. Not only does he have his other batch members with him, but he also has Rex, Ahsoka, and a small group of Rebel fighters brave enough to help them.

Several fighter pilots also circle the palace from above, which is the first thing to set off the alarms. In response, Cody sends out the same amount of TIE fighters, confident in their abilities to eliminate the X-Wings circling.

With that distraction comes stage two of Hunter’s plan- a large explosion on the east side of the palace that rocks the building, pulling most of the forces that direction as he enters with Ahsoka through the maintenance tunnels on the West side of the building.

Crosshair and Cody just so happen to go that way, knowing very easily that could’ve been a distraction. There’s a gaping hole in the palace but that won’t matter if someone is already inside.

When they split up to go down separate hallways, Crosshair rounds a corner just in time to see Hunter leap down from the vent above.

Every muscle in his body freezes, every hair rising at the sight of his brother.

The brother who left him. The brother who looked him in his pained, desperate eyes as he fought that chip and still flew off with that wretched excuse for a child. He chose a kid, over his own brother.

“Cross,” Hunter breathes, slowly taking a step forward. “Come- come with me. It’s okay. It’s Hunter. ‘M here to take you-”

“Don’t patronize me,” Cross rasps back, nose wrinkling in disgust. “Did you finally decide I was good enough to be let back into your little group?”

Your, because it was once his too, until every last one of them abandoned him.

In the other hallway, Cody finds himself hurled into an all out brawl with the rebel group that Rex happened to lead inside the palace. Blasters are fun, but Cody prefers his fists when it comes to these bastards. Especially the bastard that wrote him off as the Empire’s little bitch, believed the excuse that he was dead and then never looked for him.

With all the Rebels already taken care of, Cody and Rex fight with all the fury they have, punching and kicking and elbowing each other harder than they ever did before.

Vader checks the security cameras, looking up at you quickly with a shake of his head. “It’s them. All of them.”

He turns his datapad to show you. “The batch is handling our soldiers at the explosion site. Cody is with Rex in hallway C3. D3, Cross and Hunter. I-”

He pauses as a lightsaber activation comes through the surveillance mics, his jaw clenching at the sight of Ahsoka now standing behind Hunter.

“She won’t let Crosshair live.” He says quietly, that familiar fury building again. “I’m sending Aurra and Jaspar over here to stay with you and the kids and I’m going to that fucking hallway.”

[madam-wakefield]

Open When Chapter 23

A03 Link 

Summary:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13  Chapter 14  Chapter 15  Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 When a few years into their relationship Bernie is asked to go back to the army and deploy Serena isn’t sure how she’s going to get through the nine months without her girlfriend. What she doesn’t expect is for it to be her girlfriend who has the perfect set of surprises to get her through both the best and the worst days. Canon divergent - Elinor lives (well actually the accident never happens), Raf lives, and Cameron isn’t a total ass! The staff of AAU also probably didn’t all work on there at the same time in canon but do in this! The fic is already fully written with the first few chapters having already been Beta’d. 27 chapters including the epilogue. Hoping to post every Monday and Friday!

Open if…

Serena is confused when Ric Griffin steps into her theatre scrubbed in and tells her to let him take over. There is absolutely no reason for him to be here let alone taking over her surgery.

“Why would I do that?” She questions, genuinely perplexed. “I mean I know I’ve only just started but everything is going fine, and this is definitely much more my expertise than yours.” 

“Serena,” she looks up at his tone and it’s as her eyes connect with Ric’s that she knows something isn’t right. 

“Okay,” Serena concedes unable to control the quiver in her own voice despite knowing nothing. “She’s got…”

“Don’t worry I’ve already checked her file, just go.” There is an air of urgency in Ric’s voice that she isn’t used to hearing expect when it comes to time critical emergency surgery and it does nothing to put her mind at east.  As she washes down, she closes her eyes and breathes, because this cannot be what she thinks it is. 

She instinctively knows to go to her office and as she gets closer, she can see through the blinds and there is her confirmation, stood in her office is a gentleman in uniform. Her mind starts to swirl but she needs to stay focused. She quickens her pace, needs to get into her office and find out what the news is. 

She on autopilot as she walks into the office, shutting the door behind her as the man in uniform instantly holds out his hand. “Ms Campbell I am Captain Brown; do you want to sit down before I continue?” 

She shakes her head, the “no” coming from her lips as if by its own accord, she probably should but she feels rooted to the spot, unsure if her legs would move any further even if she wanted them to.

“I’m here as you are the next of kin of Major Berenice Wolfe.” Serena winces at the name on Bernie’s behalf. “I regret to inform you that as of 7pm yesterday evening she is missing in action.” 

“I, what, I’m …” she can’t formulate words. She isn’t being told Bernie is dead, which she must admit had been her first thought when she’d seen the man, Captain Brown, in her office. But she is being told that Bernie, her partner, the love of her life, is missing in action, but she doesn’t understand. 

“There was an explosion,” Captain Brown begins as if he can read her thoughts. “At the field hospital that Major Berenice Wolfe was working within. Her body armour and ID tags were found within the location of the explosion. There was no body so currently all avenues are being explored.” Serena sways unsteadily on her feet, while miniature scenes of what might have happened to Bernie play in her mind like on a TV screen that she can’t shut off.

The silence stretches on, but in the end, she forces her voice to break through the haze, apologising to Captain Brown to the silence.  

“No need, I understand it’s natural that what I’ve told you is a shock. I’m sorry I don’t come with better news. We will of course keep you informed of any updates at the soonest possible point. I’m afraid I must leave now, I have two more of Bernie’s next of kin to inform, if you happen to know them, can I please ask you give adequate time for me to deliver the news before contacting them.”

She watches as Captain Brown leaves, and it’s as the door clicks and if finalising the conversation that the emotions come. She lets out a truly guttural sob as she instinctively sinks into Bernie’s chair, pulling her legs up to her chest, hugging her arms around herself tightly as if she’s trying to stop herself falling apart. Her Bernie is missing. She had let Bernie go on this tour because Bernie had needed closure, but while the thought had always been there at the back of her mind, she never really imagined losing Bernie. She shakes her head then because Bernie isn’t dead, or she hasn’t been told she’s dead. She’s been told she’s missing. 

It’s while these thoughts are running round her head, tears streaming down her cheeks and body racked with sobs that she feels the hand come to rest on her back. She looks up to see Morven’s eyes full of concern. 

She fights with her own brain, her own mouth trying to force the words to form. “B…b.” She shakes her head, trying to let Morven’s hand which is now rubbing small circles into her back centre her.  

She takes a deep breath before saying “Bernie’s missing in action. Explosion, they’ve found her body armour.” It’s all she can say before she is sobbing again, she doesn’t know how she’s still got tears to give. Her whole-body shakes and she feels like her world has literally turned upside down. 

Morven puts her arms round her then, pulling her to her feet before guiding them both gently into the visitors’ chairs, and she allows herself to be held by her. If anyone has any idea what this feels like it’s Morven, Serena still can’t full comprehend what it must have been like for Morven losing Arthur so soon after they’d found each other. Doesn’t ever want to be in Morven’s position.

She’s not sure how long they sit there before she goes from crying to furious. “She was due home in a little over three weeks. Three bloody weeks. Why now! I know she couldn’t ever promise to come home, but she always promised this was it, that she’d stop after this that she just needed it for closure. Why does she have to be so fucking noble? Why did I tell her she could go? If I’d have said no, she wouldn’t have gone, and she’d be okay.” Serena isn’t sure if she’s raging with herself of Bernie but the outburst helps for a split second before making her feel even worse.

“Serena stop!” Morven’s hands grab hold of her biceps, with a lot more force than Serena is used to from Morven. “You can’t blame yourself for this, Bernie wouldn’t want that!” Wants to yell that she doesn’t know what Bernie would want as she isn’t here to ask her, but knows Morven is speaking the truth. “You let her go because of how much you love her. Plus, you said it yourself she’s missing it doesn’t mean she’s dead.”

Serena battles with her own thoughts for a while. A stream of different concepts battling to be the dominant idea in her brain before all of it is overtaken by the thought of Jason. Knows that she must be the one to tell him about this before it manages to spread through the hospital. Knows only too well that the rumour mill is one of the most efficient parts of the hospital. Before once again being enraged at the idea of something so important spreading through a rumour mill at all. Serena asks Morven to send Jasmine to find him.  When he arrives five minutes later, Jason doesn’t wait for Serena to invite him inside the office or to ask him to sit down, he just does it, because he’s Jason and that’s what he does.

“Bernie’s dead, isn’t she?” She hears him ask like it’s the simplest question in the world. Like that if the answer to that question had been yes, their lives wouldn’t have shattered. But it’s Jason and Serena gets that.

“No Jason, she isn’t dead.” She’s not sure how much her own brain believes that statement right now, but Jason needs to facts. “She’s what they call missing in action.” Serena continues, “Do you get what that means?” She needs to make sure Jason understands this, understands what it all means. What the outcomes might be.

“The army can’t find her?” Jason says looking a little puzzled. “How can you just not find a person.”

Serena presses her fingers to the bridge of her nose; her own emotions are too raw for this, but she has to be the strong one for Jason. Forces herself to find the right words to explain. “It means that there was an accident of sorts, they’ve found some of Bernie’s belongings but not Bernie herself. That’s where it gets a little complicated because they aren’t sure where she went and if they’ll ever find her.

“So, we just have to wait? Bernie might be alive and might be dead and we all we can do is wait?.”

“That’s right Jason” Serena says taking his hand and squeezing it gently.

“But then who is going to watch all the episodes of world’s strongest man with me?”

“Oh Jason,” she says gently, because of course it’s something like that that upsets Jason out of all this, because that’s just who he is. That is the person that Bernie has always accepted where so many never have.

“I will!” Serena says not an ounce of doubt in her voice. It’s quiet again for a while before Jason unexpectedly breaks the silence.

“I miss her Auntie Serena” and Serena’s heart shatters all over again because for Jason to be verbalising such a thing he must be finding it extremely hard.

“I know you do Jason, I do too but we’ll get through this together.” After that Jason is determined to go back to work and finish his shift, Serena lets him do what he needs. She instead stays in the office; not sure she’s ever going to be able to face anything outside of the four walls of their office again.

Later, when she’s been left with her own thoughts for far too long and just before Raf and Fletch are about to take her and Jason home Morven slips into the office again. Serena looks up briefly before continuing to stare at the hands she’s ringing within her lap.

“Serena?” The tone is a question, so she looks up to see Morven sat in her chair.

Something ivory laid upon the desk in-front of her.

She sees Morven take a deep breath and knows she isn’t going to like what she says. “Serena, before Bernie went away, she gave me a variety of things for you and while I have loved giving you most of them this,” she says tapping the envelope “is one I hoped I’d never have to give you.”

Serena watch as the envelope is slid towards her, fingers reaching out to pick it up as soon as it’s close enough. She turns it over in her fingers and as her eyes take note of the words written on it her fists clench tighter, just loose enough not to cause damage to the envelope.

“Serena – Open if I go missing in action.” Her eyes stream with tears without her permission. These envelopes from Bernie have brought her so much joy over the months and now this.

She is quiet for a while then, Serena just letting the tears fall, what’s the point in hiding them. She’s not hiding her grief, not for anyone. “Bernie asked me to give you this if something like this ever happened,” Morven say softy. “But she also told me to tell you, to only open it when you feel ready.” Serena wants to remark it’s a stupid thing to say. Wants to argue that of course she’s ready because this is a letter written by her lover, but it’s exactly the reason she isn’t ready.

Raf and Fletch take her and Jason home after that, Raf driving Serena’s car and Fletch following along behind in his own so that Raf can get home once they’ve dropped them off. Once they’re back Raf and Fletch check they’re going to be okay, to which Serena assures them they are, even if the words sound false to her own ears. How can she ever be okay again?

She keeps her promise to Jason and watches the world’s strongest man with him, but she can’t help but notice he doesn’t delete it off the sky box like he normally would but instead leaves it there. His own little sign of hope that Bernie will one day return home despite the circumstances.

It’s only once Jason is fast asleep that Serena allows herself what she needs. She sits herself in bed, wine bottles on her nightstand, very full wine glass in hand, she pulls her legs up so that as she brings Bernie’s pillow to rest on top of her knees, she can feel the woman surround her with every breath. It’s only then that she removes the picture of Bernie from her nightstand, placing it on top of the pillow. Bringing her thumb to the glass to stroke at Bernie’s face. It’s then that the tears come for the first time since she stepped foot in the house. She doesn’t really make a sound per say, but the tears come and come and don’t seem to stop.

“Where are you Bernie,” she says, long swigs of wine between each word, tears dripping on to the glass of the frame. She doesn’t say anything for a while, drains 3 glasses of wine far too quickly before uncorking a new bottle and filling her wine glass to the rim again.

“If you could see me now,” she says looking at Bernie’s picture. “God knows what could be happening to you.” Her tears quicken again at the thought, and she feels like someone is literally squeezing her chest tight. “Yet here I am drinking myself into an oblivion for the night, so I don’t have to think. Don’t have to miss you.” She knocks back half of the glass then because she maybe several things, but she isn’t a lightweight and one bottle isn’t going to make her forget.

“I know you we never able to promise me you’d come home, that always went unsaid between us because we knew it wasn’t a promise you could be sure to keep. But I always wanted you to stay safe. My brave fearless soldier. I’m not sure if I can do this without you Bernie. I’d never been so sure about anything until I met you. You turned my life upside down, ran and then came back and since that moment I’ve never been so sure that I wanted to spend my entire life with you.” She does it again then, finishes the half a glass of wine, quickly pouring herself another full glass.

“Look at me, like this when you could be anywhere. You could be alive right?” She has to say that to keep the tiniest spark of hope alive. “You could be injured or captured, or god only knows what.” The thought is enough to make her down the entire wine glass and pick up the bottle, she needs to forget. I know you can’t hear me, you’re 3000 miles away after all, but if you have any say, any say at all please stay brave soldier. She moves herself to lie down, head now buzzing from the speed in which she just finished two bottles of wine. She hugs Bernie’s pillow close, laying the photo back on her nightstand to keep it safe, rubbing her fingers along Bernie’s face once more. “Please find a way to come home.”

When she wakes the next morning, the sunlight is streaming through the window and her head hurts. It takes her a second to remember why because she’s meant to be at work today, but then it hits her, and it feels like she’s been doused in icy water. Her Bernie, her brave, amazing courageous Bernie is missing in action, and she doesn’t know if she’ll ever get to see her again. She thinks for a second that maybe it’s a dream, but she looks over to her nightstand, and there it is the letter she isn’t yet ready to open. “Serena – Open if I go missing in action”.

When she’s managed to force herself out of bed and drank two strong cups of coffee she rings Alan, asks if he will have Jason stay so she can have a couple of days to herself. Explains briefly what’s happened, admits that she isn’t coping, and that Jason needs someone who he can lean on right now and that she can’t even be that person for herself let alone Jason. If anyone was to ask her what she does over the next few days she wouldn’t be able to answer she isn’t even sure. She walks around as if she’s a zombie. Emotions going from anger to sadness to fear as if she’s on some sort of out of control merry go round that she just can’t get off. The third morning after she received the news about Bernie, she runs to the bathroom to empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet. She should probably regret drinking herself into oblivion every night but without it she just she can’t sleep.

She opens the medicine cabinet looking for some painkillers and her fingers fall upon the little survival kit Bernie had brought her after her suspension. She bursts into tears again then because how far they’ve come since that moment, her hating on Bernie for babysitting her, yet all Bernie had really been doing was looking out for her. Isn’t that always what Bernie does for her, both during the times she was here with Serena and for the past nine months while she been away. It’s now she thinks that maybe Bernie would still want that for her, even if she isn’t there to do it herself. She takes the painkillers, brushing her teeth before climbing into the shower for the first time in four days.

She gets dressed and actually eats breakfast. She cleans the kitchen and the living room, it’s slowly starting to smell like a brewery. Only once the house is back to her exacting standard does she return to her bedroom, taking Bernie’s letter gently in hand.

She decides to walk to the park, she isn’t exactly in a fit state to drive. Once she arrives, she sits on the bench, the one her and Bernie usually occupy when they come here, the trees are in full bloom, the pink blossom reminding her of Bernie’s stupid pink coat. She removes Bernie’s letter from her bag, and takes her time to trace over her name, the name that Bernie had written there nine months ago or more.

She turns the envelope over and allows herself to gently prise it open. She slips the letter out taking a deep breath before unfolding it.

My Dearest Serena,

I am so sorry you are having to read this letter. It is one of those letters I knew I had to write but never wanted you to read. I’m missing in action, something we always knew was a risk but didn’t ever voice. I don’t know how much you know, how much anyone knows about my situation and for that I’m sorry.

What I need you to know more than anything though is that I love you, undeniably and without waiver. You are the love of my life and the joy you’ve brought me the past three years is more than I ever thought I deserved.

I can’t sit here and write that I promise to come back to you I never have been able to. But what I can promise you is that if I have any say in it whatsoever, I will be doing everything in my power to get back to you. You always tell me how brave I am for having done what I have, but now it’s your turn. It’s your turn to be brave, for me, for Jason, for yourself!

I need you to keep going, I’m not saying that will be easy. But I need you to do it for me because I love you Serena so much, and all I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy, healthy, and loved. I know you’ll be sad, that’s only natural but I need you to work towards a place where you are okay. Where you don’t blame yourself for any of this, like I know you will at least to start with. I also know Jason will need you now more than ever, and you can’t help him if you aren’t looking after yourself.

Keep my trauma unit going for me, working on AAU with you and having the trauma unit is the only thing outside being an army medic that ever felt right. I’ll never forgot how proud of me you were the day that trauma unit opened. Let it be a legacy, save those people who shouldn’t be able to be saved, be brave in ways other surgeons are too scared to be. Keep that little piece of me there with you always.

Most all Serena please never stop hoping, it’s one of the things I love about you, how hopeful you are. Don’t let anything stop that hope. I know I’ve written it already but please, please remember that I love you with every ounce of my being.

All My Love Bernie,

Your Big Macho Army Medic x

It takes her longer to read than it normally would a letter of that length. She’s not sure how many times she stops. Tears never drying on her cheeks. But she did need it. Needed to know what Bernie wrote for her and wants for her. And she is going to be brave for Jason, for herself and most importantly for Bernie.

She’s doesn’t rush, sits on the bench for a few hours, lingers, just allows her mind to settle. It’s doesn’t stop her worry, but it gives her time to organise her thoughts. Work out what she needs to do now. What she needs to do to help Jason and herself get through this limbo, and that’s what she’s decided it is an unknown limbo. She doesn’t know how long it’s going to last or when it’s going to end but she knows she got to keep battling through. Be brave just like her Bernie is.

She takes her phone out of her pocket, smiling at the picture of her and Bernie on her phone screen that hasn’t filled her with joy in this way for the past four days. Hanssen pushes back at first when she tells him she wants to come back into work in two days time. But she asks him to trust her, explains that right now this is what she needs. Bernie left the trauma unit in her and Raf’s capable hands and she’ll be damned if she isn’t going to keep it running like a well-oiled machine for her. 

Jason comes home the day in between her opening the letter and going back to work. He asks if she’s okay, and while she can’t say she is she does tell him that she needs to be strong for all of them. They spend the evening together eating fish and chips and watching Dr Who reruns. Not a single drop of Shiraz passes her lips, she’s sure she’s drank enough in the past few days to kill her liver off for a month or two. Sleep doesn’t come easily, and she has nightmares of Bernie suffering, nothing specific she can exactly recall in the morning just enough that she isn’t as well rested as she should be for having tried to get a full ten hours sleep. 

She walks onto AAU at 7am precisely, a strong hot coffee in hand. She can instantly see and feel the pitying looks. They remind her of the ones she got when her mum was ill. But she doesn’t want them. What they have here is something her and Bernie built together and she’s going to cherish that whatever the outcome of this limbo. She calls Morven into the office a little later after the ward round, when she feels every single pair of staff eyes on her at least one. 

“You, okay?” Morven questions, and Serena gets it, she was in a very different way sat in this office not even a week ago.  

“Yes, however can you please get the word out that Ms Campbell does not need all the pitying eyes and whispers. She’s here to do her job, run the department and keep Bernie’s trauma unit running like clockwork”. 

The message must get around quickly because next time she leaves the office her staff actually talk to her, ask for her opinion on their patients annoy her just a little by letting their own personal conversations at the nurses’ station go on just a little bit too long.

When the red phone rings Raf just looks at her, she nods confirming that she’ll take the lead, gets him to accompany her though. The surgery is easy enough thankfully, an emergency spleen removal that she could almost perform in her sleep. She knows she’s going to see Cameron at hand over but doesn’t expect him to turn up on the ward fifteen minutes early. She’d not sure which of them initiates the hug but it happens easily.

“Mum’s tough. She’ll be okay you know.” Cameron reassures her while they are still hugging.

“Yes, she will.” Doesn’t know if she gives her response to try and convince herself or Cameron but they both smile as they pull back from the hug.

She goes home that evening knowing she’d made a difference at work and that night she finds it just a little bit easier to fall asleep. It doesn’t stop her wondering where Bernie is and if she’s okay, but it does make it just that little bit easier. After all its thanks to Bernie that they have a trauma unit and she’s going to look after it for as long as it takes.

She keeps herself busy with the same routine, refusing to take a day off. She works long day shifts, it keeps her mind busy, means she doesn’t have the same amount of time to worry. Ric comes to see her a few days after her return. Questions whether she’s doing the right thing working, tells her maybe it would be healthier to take some time off. But she explains to him that right now this is right; she isn’t grieving because she doesn’t need to because Bernie isn’t as far as anyone knows dead. She isn’t going to act like she is. She explains to him that she’s doing exactly what Bernie would want her to do. Carry on with her days, saving patients, performing operations, all the things that come with ease. That the not having time to think isn’t a bad thing, it means she can keep her fears under control. It’s not that she doesn’t think about Bernie, doesn’t worry about her, but she tries to limit it to a healthy amount in the comfort of her own home when she wakes in the morning and when she goes to bed at night. 

The first patient she loses, during this limbo is hard. She’s been back at work three days, a week and a half since Bernie went missing. She knows right now she can’t be the one to inform the family. That really is a little too close to home. She asks Raf to do it, knows in time she’ll come to be able to do it herself, but at this point, and this point in her limbo she needs to lean on those around her too and she’ll do that for as long as her limbo lasts.

[syllvane]

home- yelena belova x reader

a/n: wrote this whole thing in about an hour, black widow spoilers obviously!

Yelena doesn’t know what home means.

For a time, it meant Ohio, a life with her sister and her parents. It meant playgrounds and mac n cheese and American Pie.

For much longer, it was blades and guns and a ledger soaked with red.

Now, it was you. It was taking her coffee the exact way you took it so that you could reach over and take a sip of her mug when you didn’t think she was looking. It was the way you woke up every time she woke up from a nightmare, always being there to reassure her that she was still in control, that the Red Room was gone. It was the little sticky notes the two of you left around the apartment, the little reminders of your love.

It was home, at least until you had woken up one day to a pile of dust next to you instead of your girlfriend.

You didn’t know what it had meant- why would you have? You thought maybe that she had accidentally burned breakfast maybe or that there was a hole in your ceiling. You thought of everything except what had actually had happened.

The apartment changes slowly, as you and the world around you realize that this is permanent. That this is a nightmare you won’t wake up from.

You can’t even remember the last words the two of you said to each other- ‘I love you’, probably, or maybe discussing the next day, time you didn’t realize the two of you didn’t have.

You reach out to Natasha and when you tell her, you see your own grief mirrored on her face- in her defense though, she doesn’t start bawling as you had.

Her grief is stoic and stray tears. Yours is sobbing and nightmares, waking up and reaching over to the other side of the bed for someone who isn’t there.

You don’t think you’ll ever get the feeling of her ashes off of your fingers.

Five years pass slowly, dragging you and everyone else who was desperately clinging to the past along with it.

You help dissolve what is left of the Black Widow agents, giving them the freedom that Yelena had always longed to give them.

You vow that Yelena’s mission won’t die with her.

You’re making dinner when you hear footsteps coming from your bedroom.

You grab the gun that Yelena always kept behind the pots, turning around and pointing only to see the woman herself standing there, taking in everything.

She faltered for a second before smiling.

“Is it a crime to oversleep now?” Yelena asked, her eyes never leaving yours.

She looks exactly like you remember her.

“You can’t be real.”

“If that’s the start of some cheesy pick-up line, I am going to walk out of that door,” She said, although there was no real threat behind the words. You set the gun down.

She could be a stray Widow, luring you into comfort before ultimately killing you.

At that moment though, you don’t really care.

It’s been five long years and you are tired and so you run over to where she is standing and you hug her tightly as if she will simply disappear through your hands again.

“Woah! What’s the occasion? Is it our anniversary or something, is that why you were holding the gun?” She asked and you didn’t respond.

“It’s you,” You said, tucking your face into her shoulder. “You’re back.”

Yelena pulled a face, not that you saw.

“Back? Where did I go?”

That was genuine confusion in her voice- she had no idea that she and half of the Earth’s population had disappeared for five years.

“Just don’t go there again, please. Just don’t go where I can’t follow.”

She doesn’t say anything- she doesn’t fully understand why you’re sobbing into her neck, but that doesn’t matter right now.

There will be plenty of time to talk about it afterwards but for now, she does one of the things she’s always been best at and she just holds you.

The excitement of Yelena returning is overshadowed a few days later by the news of Natasha’s death.

“We won’t… we won’t even have a body to bury,” Yelena said, her eyes welling up with tears as you held her, and you are reminded of your own grief in the first couple days after she had disappeared.

This time though, you do not cry.

You wanted to- Natasha had become one of your closest friends in the five years that you had lost Yelena. Your loss bound the two of you together in ways you hadn’t thought possible.

You wanted to and you do not because this is Yelena’s grief first and foremost and it is yours second.

You will not cry in front of a woman who has just lost her sister. Instead, you will hold her close and you will tell her stories of her sister from the past five years, five years that you had refused to speak about.

“She loved you so much, Yelena. She wasn’t the best at showing it, but she loved you so much.”

“Then why didn’t she stay?” Yelena asked, her voice breaking as she started crying again.

You didn’t answer, mostly because you didn’t have a good reason.

Clint Barton had told you over the phone that one of their lives had to be sacrificed and that Natasha gave her life so that he could return to his family.

That was all perfectly well and nice, but you wanted to scream at him: What about us? What about Yelena? What about Melina, Alexei? What about her family?

You didn’t though. He would have to live with her death for the rest of his life, knowing that he was only alive because she wasn’t. Maybe that would have to be enough.

“Cause she’s a hero. I don’t know. I know it’s selfish, but I need you to promise me something. Promise me that if the world needs saving and it’s your life on the line, you’ll turn around and come home to me,” You said, running your hands through her hair. “The world can burn for all I care. I just need you safe.”

“I promise. No going where you can’t follow,” She replied, repeating your words from the first night that she had returned.

There is no body to bury but there is still a funeral, still a gravestone to visit.

“I don’t want to go alone,” Yelena said, straightening the hem of her shirt in the mirror.

“You won’t be,” You promised her and she took your hand and the two of you drove to the cemetery.

Her grave was recognizable- it was covered with flowers and stuffed bears and candles.

She was renowned by so many and grieved by many more, though none as much as the two of you.

Yelena doesn’t know how to approach it- she froze when she saw it, rooted to the ground.

“I don’t think I can do this,” She said, her voice barely a whisper. “Not yet.”

“Okay. We can stay as long as you want.”

She grabbed your hand and you held on tightly.

“Don’t leave me.”

“Never.”

The two of you look at the other gravestones for about an hour before Yelena finally garners up the courage to go to Natasha’s.

She kneeled, setting the flowers down gently among the others. She seemed to freeze for another moment before her fingers began tracing a word on the gravestone: ‘sister’.

Her hand clapped over her mouth and she leaned back.

You sat next to her as she started crying again, your hand finding hers again.

Yelena didn’t know what home meant for the longest time- it was deception and Russian taught in secret and filling scrapbooks with memories manufactured in one day.

It was scalpels and guns and dead bodies and broken bones and targets. It was sniper rifles and explosives.

It was sitting at her sister's gravestone with your hand in hers, sitting with her until dusk, crying. It was waking up to your nightmares, you holding her tightly until you stopped crying, realizing that she was still here.

It was Natasha’s red hair and her fighting poses and it was your smile and laugh.

It was grief and love, it was her sister and it was you.

[unwrittenlibrary]

adore you

summary // bucky and alpine enjoy their solitude, but the girl across the hall is slowly creeping into their hearts. (bucky x fem!reader)

words // 7.4k

warnings // diverges from canon & no major spoilers.

notes // just thousands of words of fluff bc that’s all i know how to write. maybe one day i’ll venture into anything else. fluffy bucky has my heart 

reblogs & replies are greatly appreciated!

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The first time you knock on Bucky’s door Alpine wanders over curiously.

Bucky stares at the door silently urging you to go away. You knock again and Alpine begins to paw at the door before meowing loudly, which makes Bucky groan. “I’m coming.” He calls as he stands from the couch. He pauses the movie playing on his television, something ridiculous that Sam had insisted on. Alpine meows again and Bucky can hear you laugh through the door. 

He pulls on a hoodie that’s laying on his counter and stuffs his left hand into the front pocket. When he pulls the door open you smile brightly. “James!” 

The two of you had met briefly when Bucky had originally moved into the building. You had smiled the same bright smile in the elevator and offered up your name easily. Bucky had smiled tightly in return and told you his full name, a habit he had yet to break, and he deeply regretted it. Every time you passed in the hallway you called out a cheery James despite Bucky’s corrections. 

“It’s Bucky.” He mutters. Your eyes move over his shoulder and Bucky watches as you take in his very undecorated and barely furnished apartment. Bucky didn’t mind how seemingly empty his place was. He wasn’t home a lot and nobody but Sam spent time with him. Sam might think it was time to add barstools and a spice rack, but Bucky was content with how things were. 

Your attention is pulled to Alpine as he peeks out from behind Bucky’s legs. “And who are you?” You ask quietly as you squat down to meet his eyes. You hold a cautious hand out and Alpine only stares. You wait for a moment before he turns and moves back into the apartment. 

You don’t seem to take it to heart though. You laugh as you stand up. “He takes after his dad, huh.” There’s a teasing glint in your eyes and Bucky should be offended but the comment actually makes him smirk. 

“His name is Alpine.” Bucky says monotone as he watches you rock back and forth on your feet. “Did you need something?” 

“Oh!” Your eyes light up as if you had completely forgotten your reason for coming here in the first place. “I need salt! Do you have any?” Your eyes move behind him again as if you’re now suddenly worried the answer won’t be yes. 

“I have salt, yes.” He doesn’t move from his spot and only stares down at you. Your eyes flicker around the hallway before you smile nervously. “Can I have some?” You ask quietly. 

Bucky nods and makes his way into his kitchen. He expects you to stay and wait in the doorway, but he hears the door shut behind you.

“Didn’t want him to get out.” You say as you lean against his counter. Bucky’s a little put off by your brazen personality, but you don’t seem to notice his discomfort. “How long have you lived in DC?” You ask as Bucky moves to pull the salt out. 

“How much do you need?” He asks instead of answering. 

“Not much! A couple teaspoons.” Bucky’s stoic attitude doesn’t seem to deter you at all. He glances around the bare kitchen before deciding to just give you the shaker. 

“I don’t have anything to put it in, just make sure to return it eventually.” He shrugs as he slides it over to you. You grasp it in your hand but make no effort to move. Bucky sighs. “And I’ve lived here for a couple years now. I… I moved here after the Blip.” 

He wonders briefly if you know who he is. He’s not sure what happened in the years of the blip, if his name had been marked on one of those memorials. That had been before his pardon, so he assumes not. He wonders if Steve’s exhibit had been changed. He hadn’t been back since before the blip. Was he still in it? Had they changed it or was Bucky Barnes still dead in America’s eyes? His eyes find yours and then he wonders if you did know who he was, were you worried? 

You seemed fine around him. He hadn’t seen any recognition on your face when he had introduced himself all those months ago. A frown tugs at your lips. “Were you…” You trail off but Bucky knows the question. 

Bucky nods tightly and you take a step away and move towards his door, like you know he’s reached the limit on sharing personal details for the night. “Me too.” You finally say when your hand lands on his door knob. You pause. “It’s weird. Right? Coming back to a completely different world?”’

“Yeah.”  He nods. You have no idea, he thinks. He had just begun to figure out how to live free again and then he was gone. And when he came back, he was thrust into battle then lost Steve to a world Bucky was no longer a part of. “It’s weird.” 

You smile apologetically. “Thank you for the salt, James.” You say quietly. His eyes flash to yours but your face doesn’t give much away. 

He nods and the door slams shut. Alpine comes trotting out and rubs against Bucky’s shins. “Yeah, she’s weird.” Bucky reaches down to softly pet Alpine’s back. “Pretty though, huh?” 

Alpine pushes against his hand and Bucky takes that as agreement enough. 

//

Bucky liked helping Sam down at the VA. Handing things out, setting things up, and talking with veterans gave Bucky a sense of something. It gave him something to do when Sam and him weren’t away on missions. 

And he got to spend time with Sam. While it was something he would never admit to the man, he enjoyed his company. Sam had slowly become Bucky’s best friend. Not that Bucky really had any other close friends. 

“Thanks for helping out today.” Sam smiles as Bucky leads him through the hallway towards his apartment. “But you know, you can just come for a meeting. To talk.” 

Bucky nods. He did know that, really. But Bucky was okay with listening for now. Maybe one day he would share some of his story, but helping out now was helping him. 

Bucky stops short in the hall when he notices something sitting outside his door. He throws an arm out that Sam slams into. “Jesus, what…” He trails off when he notices what Bucky had seen. 

There’s a small brown box sitting on the ground. “Stay here.” He murmurs as he begins to move towards the object. Sam gives Bucky a look before following behind him. “Or not.” He glares. Both men kneel down in front of the box. There’s not much that gives anything about what’s in the box away, just his name written in fancy script. 

He reaches a hand out to touch it when the sound of your door opening makes him second guess and pull away. You were a little weird, but he didn’t want to blow you up. 

“James!” Him and Sam look over at you as you lock your door. You’ve got a red apron wrapped around your waist and your bag is slipping off your shoulder. Before Bucky can say anything like be careful, you furrow your brows at the men. “What are you doing? Do you not like cookies?” 

“Cookies?” Bucky asks as he glances down at the box again. Sam has already stood up and straightened out, but he’s still kneeling in front of the door. He can hear Alpine pawing at it, no doubt having heard Bucky’s voice, and he feels a little ridiculous now. “It’s Bucky.” He adds on now that he knows it’s not an explosive sitting in front of him. 

You nod slowly with a confused smile on your face. “Cookies. I made a bunch so I packed up the extra for you. When I knocked nobody answered so I left them, I wasn’t sure if I’d be home when you got back.” 

Bucky feels heat rise to his cheeks. He hastily picks the box up and stands. Sam laughs loudly and Bucky glances at him coldly. “Thanks.” He says quietly. 

You rock back and forth on your feet again. Must be a nervous habit, Bucky thinks. “I also made some cat treats. For Alpine.” Bucky recognizes the nervous tone in your voice as you stare at the box in his hands. “Thank you. For the help.” You say before spinning on your heel. You freeze and turn again, this time your eyes land on Sam. “Nice to meet you, Captain America, sir.” You look like you’re thinking of throwing your hand up in salute, but instead you turn again and rush down the hall. 

Bucky just stares after you until a muffled meow breaks his focus. He shakes his head before shoving the box into Sam’s hands and moving to unlock the door. “So.” Sam says with a poorly contained smirk as he follows Bucky inside. “She seems nice, James.” 

Bucky groans before snatching the box from his hands. “She knows I go by Bucky, she just calls me that to mess with me… I think.”

“And she knows Alpine?” Sam kneels down to pet said cat, but he jumps away and hides behind Bucky’s legs. “Come on, Al. We’ve known each other since you were adopted.” Sam stands up and rolls his eyes at Bucky. 

Bucky laughs softly at the cat. “She asked to borrow salt last night and kind of met him. Alpine didn’t really stick around to hang out with her.” He begins to open the box and notices a small note taped to the inside of the lid. 

He pulls it off hesitantly. “What’s her name?” Sam leans against the counter and pulls a cookie out of the box.

“Y/N.” He says quietly as his eyes skim over the note. 

James, 

Thank you for the salt. And the conversation. I hope you enjoy the cookies. I made some simple tuna treats for Alpine. 

Step One in getting your cat to love me. 

Bucky lays the note on his counter and looks into the box. His shaker is standing in the corner next to a small plate of cookies and a jar of what he assumes are the cat treats. Sam laughs and Bucky glances up to see him reading over the note. “Hey!” Bucky yanks it out of his hand and shoves it into one of the drawers in front of him. 

“Getting Alpine and you to love her, she means.” He laughs again and Bucky rolls his eyes. “That’s cute. I didn’t know you had a little flirtationship going on.” 

Bucky scoffs. “I don’t… What does that even mean? Did you see us in the hall? I don’t flirt with her.” 

Sam reaches for another cookie. “Really? Just felt like that’s how you would flirt. And you blushed so…” He trails off with a smirk. 

“I wasn’t blushing!” Bucky says defensively. He didn’t blush just because a pretty girl gave him cookies. He wasn’t in middle school. When Sam reaches for another cookie, Bucky yanks the box away. “Are you gonna order dinner or stand here and eat all of my cookies?” 

Sam throws his hands up in mock surrender and pulls out his cell phone. “Hey. No need to get defensive. Maybe it was just hot in the hallway.” He moves into the living room and flings himself onto the small couch. 

Bucky scoffs and looks down at Alpine, who has made himself comfortable at Bucky’s feet. “I wasn’t blushing.” He says quietly to the cat. Alpine just blinks. Bucky pulls a treat out of the small jar and holds it out to him. “You know I wasn’t blushing.” 

//

The next time Bucky sees you, it’s him at your door. He’s got a clean plate in his hand and is decidedly not nervous as he waits for you to answer. 

He lifts his hand to knock again when the door swings open. You’re standing in nothing but a sweatshirt and shorts that barely peek out from beneath it. Bucky swallows and forces his eyes up from your legs to your face. 

He gives you an apologetic smile when he sees your raised brows. “James.” You smile kindly as you lean against your door frame. “What can I do for you?” 

“Bucky.” He says automatically. He holds the plate out and notices your eyes catch on his gloved hands. “Figured you might want this back. I washed it.” 

You take the plate from his hands. “Thank you.” Bucky doesn’t move from his spot in the hallway. He’s not really sure why because he’s done what he needed to do. He just wanted to enjoy your presence, he assumes. You had begun to grow on him and your cookies were really good. Or maybe he had always kind of liked you. 

“Do you want to come in?” You ask. There’s an inviting smile on your face and he almost says yes. He wants to say yes. But he didn’t want to leave Alpine alone, he had already been gone for most of the day. 

Bucky gives you an apologetic smile. “I would… But I don’t want to leave Alpine alone.” You nod with a soft smile and Bucky watches for a moment before taking a step back.

“I’ll just…” He points over shoulder at his door. He turns and starts the short walk to his door. 

You laugh quietly. “Have a good night, James.” 

“Bucky.” He corrects. He takes a deep breath and turns to face you again. You’re still standing in your doorway watching him amused. “Do you want to… You can come to mine instead?” 

Your small smile transforms into something bright and excited as you nod. “That would be great. Let me grab my keys.” You hold a finger up and disappear into your apartment. 

As soon as you're out of sight Bucky slumps against the wall. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He thinks. His living room is bare except for the small, shitty couch Sam had persuaded him into buying. That and a lamp on an Ikea side table and his television. 

He imagined your living room was much homier. Probably decorated to fit your aesthetic and cozy. What would you think of his place? What did you think? You couldn’t mind it too much if you agreed to come, right? 

His nervous train of thought is disrupted when he hears your door slam shut. Bucky watches as you lock your door quickly. “Lead the way!” You look at Bucky with teasing eyes. 

Bucky smiles hesitantly as he turns towards his own door. When he opens it, he finds Alpine laying on the back of the couch and he stares confused at Bucky and the new addition to the apartment. 

“You remember Alpine.” Bucky says with a small smile as he beckons you further into the apartment. “It’s not much-“

“-It’s nice.” You cut him off. You’ve got a genuine smile on your face and Bucky begins to wonder why he had ever been nervous. You’d always been kind, he couldn’t imagine you having anything rude to say. “Hi, Alpine.” You say quietly as you step cautiously towards the couch. 

Bucky watches as Alpine looks up at you equally as cautious. “Nice to see you again. I hope you like the treats.” At the word, Alpine perks up and looks at you intrigued. 

Bucky quietly pulls a couple treats out of the jar. He moves as subtly as he can in order to avoid shifting Alpine’s attention. “Here.” He slips a treat into your hand. “See if he comes to you.”

You hold the treat out in front of you and Alpine sniffs the air. You don’t say anything, like you know trying to coax the cat to you might spook him. Alpine seems to appreciate it and moves towards you slowly. He snatches the treat from your hand before dashing away. He disappears down the hallways, but you don’t seem to care because you spin around to face Bucky with a happy smile. 

“Did you see that?” You laugh. Bucky swallows and nods. Briefly he thinks you have a beautiful smile before shaking the thought off. You take a seat on his couch and pull your legs up underneath you. “I’ll be his favorite in no time.”  

Bucky snorts. “I’m sure.” He says sarcastically. He sits next to you on the couch and moves to hand the remote to you. He lets a small smile be directed at you as he watches you make yourself comfortable in his home. It’s not much, but you seem to fit right in. 

When your eyes land on his gloved hands again, he thinks you’re gonna ask for a reasoning behind them. He’d have to come up with a poor excuse, not wanting to share the truth yet. But your eyes move from his hands to his face and you take the remote with a smirk. “You ever seen Legally Blonde?”

And, well. That’s that. 

//

The next time you and Bucky see each other, it’s in passing. He’s going out as you’re coming in. There’s a grease stain on your shirt and your red apron is barely stuffed into your purse.

Bucky hesitates for a moment. “Hey.” He says quietly. You spin around and slam backwards into your door. “Fuck. I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry.” He takes a cautious step towards you. His eyes trail over your face, your eyes are red and he can tell how exhausted you are. 

“It’s okay.” You say quietly. You take a few calming breaths. “I was in my head. It was a rough night.” 

Bucky leans against the wall next to you. “Wanna talk about it?” He’s grown so used to you just stopping to chat that this tense silence feels wrong. Normally he wouldn’t even have to prompt you, he would listen as you just launch into a story easily.

You trail your eyes over his outfit. “You look like you’re headed out.”

Bucky shrugs and doesn’t move from his spot. “Just a recap then. I have time.” He’s not sure what’s inspired him to do this. But he thinks it has something to do with this newfound fondness to your bright personality. He wants it back. 

You take a deep breath and nod. “Come in for a glass of water? Then I’ll let you go.” 

Bucky sighs in relief. “Sounds perfect.” He follows you into the apartment. It’s different from his. Bright, like you. You’ve got posters hanging neatly on the wall your tv is against. Plants sitting by your window. A large couch and soft rug. “Nice place.” He comments as he moves to sit on one of your barstools.

You laugh softly. “Thanks.” You drop your purse onto the counter and turn to pull two glasses out of the cupboard. “Where are you headed? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

Bucky glances at the time on your stove. “Oh… I help my friend out with meetings at the VA. I was headed to help him set up.” 

You slide a glass of water towards him. “You’re a vet?” He takes it with an appreciative smile. “I didn’t…” You shake your head. “Thank you.” 

Bucky shakes his head. “I’m not…” He trails off unsure of how to explain his status to you. Did you really not know who he was? “Tonight's topic is you.”

You roll your eyes and lean back against the counter. “Have you ever just had a bad day? Where nothing seems to go right?” Bucky nods and you sigh. “My master’s thesis, I’ve been working on it for months, I got back my draft today from my advisor and he tore it apart. Had a good cry about that. Got called in early to work, I need the money so I said yes. The diner was busy and we were short staffed. To top it off, my last customer of the night was a douche. He hit on me all night. When I told him no to getting my phone number, he threatened to take my tip away.” You laugh bitterly as Bucky sits in silence, listening intently. “And then when I walked away, he tried to grab me. So… Stellar night over all.” 

“Want me to kill him?” The words are out of Bucky’s mouth before he can think. He couldn’t imagine being forced to be nice to somebody who was just harassing him all night. In fact, he knows he wouldn’t be. And he knows you certainly didn’t deserve treatment like that. 

You let out a shocked laugh that turns into a full blown laughing fit. Bucky lets out an awkward chuckle as he watches you shake. 

“That’s…” You trail off and Bucky notices tears gathering in your eyes. “That’s really sweet.” You say wetly. 

“Hey.” Bucky stands up and takes a step towards you. He pauses, unsure of what to do, but when you start to shake again, this time with tears, his decision is made. “Hey. You’re okay.” 

He pulls you into him and you come easily. You wrap your arms tightly around his waist and rest your head against his chest as you let it out. 

Bucky rubs your back and tries his best to calm his rapidly beating heart. He hopes you can’t hear it because he’s sure it would break any kind of aura of nonchalance he had created. 

He glances at the time again. He really has to go. The meeting was starting soon and he’s sure Sam is worried about where Bucky is. He pulls back slowly, not wanting to let go. 

You look at him with sad eyes. “I’m so sorry. I have to go.” You nod dejectedly and take a step back. You don’t go too far, both of your hands still clinging to his jacket. “Can you watch Alpine?” He rushes the words out and he knows there’s a light blush rising to his cheeks. He just wants to make you feel better and he really does hate leaving his cat alone. 

You furrow your brows. “What?” 

“I mean.” He takes a hurried step back suddenly aware of you still wrapped in his arms. “I hate leaving him alone. And… You look like you could use some furry company.” 

A slow smile spreads across your face. “Are you saying your cat likes me?”

“No.” Bucky laughs. “But you are the only other person he doesn’t completely hate.” 

“I would love to watch Alpine.” You take a few rushed steps out of your kitchen. “I’ll change and head over.” 

Bucky lets out a relieved breath and nods. “Good. Cool. I mean-“ He shakes his head. “-my spare key is on top of my door. You don’t have to do anything but hang out with him. Don’t expect cuddles though, I’m not sure you’re on that level yet. Don’t give him too many treats.” 

You’re nodding like his instructions are even the smallest bit important. “I have to go.” Bucky says ago and takes another step towards the door. “I’ll see you later.” 

You nod and take off down your hall. Bucky lingers by your door for a moment.

“Wait!” You yell and come rushing out again. Bucky freezes and turns to look at you. “Thank you…James.” You smile brightly before spinning around again and disappearing. 

Bucky smiles to himself as he leaves. The bright was back. 

//

When Bucky gets home he’s more nervous than when he left. His palm is sweaty and all that’s on his mind is Sam’s constant teasing. 

Bucky didn’t have a crush. He just… Liked having you around. That didn’t mean he wanted to date you. Maybe he did think you were pretty. And sure when you had let him hug you earlier it had made his heart race. 

But it wasn’t a crush. Bucky was too old to have a crush. He takes a deep breath before opening his door. He can hear a movie playing softly before he even looks up. 

“Hey.” You say quietly from where you’re laying on his couch. You sit up hastily with an embarrassed smile. Alpine is laying on the chair across from you. “We’re friends!” You point to the sleeping cat. 

Bucky nods. “He actually stayed in the same room as you all night?” He asks doubtfully. 

You frown, but there’s a mischievous sparkle in your eyes. “Maybe not all night. But he came out like an hour ago. I think he gave up on waiting for me to leave.” 

You pat the spot next to you on the couch and Bucky moves as quietly as he can. “How was your night? Do you feel better?” He looks you over. You looked less tired and from the blankets piled on his couch it looks like you had taken a nap. 

You nod. “A lot better… Thank you. I really appreciate you letting me hang out with your cat.” You look up at him with a nervous smile. “He’s just like you. You two were made for each other.” 

Bucky glances at Alpine. “What does that mean?” 

You poke Bucky’s leg with your socked foot. “Hard exterior, secretly wants to be best buds with me.” 

Bucky snorts and gently shoves your foot away. “My secret plan has been outed. Make the girl from 4B my best friend.” You laugh and move to tuck your feet under his leg. It’s silent for a moment, and Bucky knows you’re watching him so he busies himself with watching Alpine.

“Hey…” You trail off waiting for Bucky to turn his attention to you. “I don’t want to upset you or anything.” 

“That’s always a good start.” Bucky says nervously as he focuses on you. Your hands are fidgeting in your lap as you watch him. “What’s wrong?” 

You shake your head quickly. “Nothing’s wrong! I just… Promise you won’t be upset with me?” Your eyes are pleading and Bucky can feel himself get anxious. What could you be so nervous about? 

“What’s wrong?” He asks quietly. You don’t say anything, so Bucky swallows hard. “I promise.” He nods slowly. 

“Okay.” You take a deep breath. Bucky watches your eyes shift around the room before landing on his hands clenched together in his lap. “I thought I recognized you. Like, your name is so familiar and then when I saw you with Captain America…” 

Bucky looks down at his hands and nods. He knew where this was going. “I…” He trails off. 

“I looked you up.” You rush the words out. Your voice is small and Bucky feels any hopes he had for this friendship shatter around him. 

“I don’t… I’m not any of those things anymore.” Bucky cringes. His leg is shaking anxiously, but he just can’t get it to stop. He can’t even get himself to look up from his gloved hands, didn’t want to see the fear or disbelief that would be painted across your face. 

Your toes poke at his thigh again and it forces Bucky to look over at you. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you watch him, but there’s no trace of fear or anger, you wear the same kind smile that you always did. 

“I know that.” You whisper softly. Your eyes move past him and Bucky follows your line of vision to Alpine, whose bright eyes are staring at him. Bucky smiles gently at the cat as he stretches out and hops off the chair. Alpine rubs against Bucky’s shins, a welcome distraction from the impending conversation. Your feet curve upward to poke Bucky in the leg again. He looks up hastily at the gesture. “When I asked if you were a vet earlier, why did you say no?” 

Bucky purses his lips to think. The truth was he wasn’t at all sure how to explain everything to you. He didn’t have to explain things to Sam or Steve, they knew. “My war was a long time ago.” He settles on saying. 

“That doesn’t make you any less a veteran.” You say firmly.  “And there’s not much online about the Winter Soldier-“ There’s ringing in Bucky’s ears as the words come out of your mouth. What had you found? And what were you thinking? 

“Hey.” You lean over and place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “There’s not much online, but I didn’t read what there was because I knew that it was your story to tell me. When you’re ready.” 

Bucky inhales sharply as you look at him with curious eyes. “I… I did a lot of bad things. I… I worked on making amends and I… I was pardoned.” He pleads with you like he’s sure you’ll walk out if you know everything. 

“Okay.” The word is quiet and your hand is still resting on his shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I just wanted you to know that I’m your friend. Even with your super cool secret identity.” 

Bucky laughs at that. “It’s not a secret if you use your real name.” 

“Ah! You agree? We’re friends?” You say with a smirk. “Does that mean I get to see the super cool metal arm that’s always been covered around me?” 

Bucky shakes his head, but laughs. “Not yet.” You’re watching him carefully so he gives you a small smile. “I would say we’re friends though, yeah.” 

//

Suddenly, you’re always there. 

When Bucky has missions with Sam, you check in on Alpine for him. His spare key has moved from above his door to your keychain. 

You’ll come over with treats when he gets home from the VA. (Bucky likes to think you check for him when you hear the heavy footsteps in the hall and that’s why you’re always there right after he gets home.) 

He’ll bring dishes back whenever he sees you get home. (He does check the peephole when he hears footsteps.) 

You send him pictures of Alpine when he’s away. Alpine who still won't cuddle with you or even touch you, but who lays in the same room and has recently started allowing short pets. He sends you pictures of Sam and cities they’re in. 

And tonight, while he’s in New York, you’ve sent him a picture of you in his bathroom mirror with Alpine sitting pretty on the counter. 

He’s not supposed to be up there. 

All he gets is another picture in return, this time you have a thumbs up and Alpine is still on the counter. Bucky smiles. Sam notices. 

“Your girlfriend texting you?” He teases. 

Bucky scoffs. “She’s not my girlfriend… She just watches Alpine for me sometimes.” He looks back down at his phone. Nice. He sends back before stuffing it into his pocket and looking back at the man. 

Sam nods slowly. “Right. She just watches Alpine sometimes. And hangs out with you when she’s free. Don’t forget the treats she makes you and Alpine.” Sam lists off casually as he looks down at his fingernails. 

Bucky feels an embarrassed heat crawl up the back of his neck and looks down at his feet. “We’re friends. She’s a good friend.” 

When he looks up, Sam doesn’t have a teasing smile, but instead a genuinely happy one. Bucky thinks that this one is somehow worse when Sam grips his shoulder firmly. “I’m glad you have such a good friend, Bucky. Someone outside this super hero business.”

Bucky nods and swallows the lump in his throat. “Yeah. Thanks, Sam.”

“I’m serious, Bucky. You deserve it.” 

Bucky gives him a grateful smile unable to say anything else.

//

Bucky creeps into his apartment at four in the morning. It’s quiet, like usual, but Alpine isn’t sitting on the couch like he normally does when Bucky isn’t home. 

“Al?” He calls out quietly. The logical part of him is aware that Alpine may have fallen asleep in his bedroom, or underneath a piece of furniture. But there’s another part of him that panics at the routine being broken. 

Alpine was always there to greet him. 

Bucky would rather be safe than sorry. “Al.” He whispers again, already reaching for the knife strapped to his ankle. He bends slowly and lifts his pant leg as he scans his eyes under the couch and coffee table in search of the cat. 

He stands with the knife in his hand and moves slowly down his hallway. His bedroom door is ajar, Bucky takes a deep breath before pushing it open all the way. Alpine blinks at him from the edge of his bed. The knife slips from Bucky’s hand as he stands, shocked in the doorway. You’re asleep. Asleep on the bed that he never used. 

The knife clattering against the ground stirs you from your sleep and your eyes widen when you notice Bucky standing there. 

“Hey!” Your voice is raspy and low. You rub your eyes and Bucky can only stare at your half-asleep form. “I… I thought you were going to be gone until tomorrow night.” 

He nods. “Yeah. I mean, we got things done sooner than expected.” He explains. You lean over to flicker the light next to you on. Bucky doesn’t recognize the pillow sitting behind you or the blanket that’s thrown over your legs, he thinks you’ve brought them over from your apartment. You must have because his pillow and blanket was sitting folded in his linen closet waiting for the next time he camped out on the floor or the couch. 

You smile apologetically. “I’m sorry. I… I got tired of falling asleep on the couch.” You whisper. “And Alpine lays with me on the bed.” 

Bucky hastily shakes his head. “No! It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize. I should’ve told you to sleep in the bed. I didn’t even think of it.” I don’t really sleep in the bed. He moves further into the room. 

You scratch nervously at your cheek before freezing in action. He almost laughs at the annoyance that crosses your face. You had mentioned once that touching your face was a bad habit you had been trying to break for months. “I should go.” 

“You don’t have to.” Bucky opens his dresser drawer in search of sweatpants. “Stay here. You’ve already got yourself set up. I’ll crash on the couch.” 

You push the blanket off of your legs and Bucky has to force his eyes to stay on yours when he notices the already short shorts you’re wearing have ridden up your thighs from sleeping. “I can’t make you sleep on the couch, James. I’ll go!” 

“You know it’s Bucky.” He stops you with a hand on your shoulder. “It’s fine.” He stresses. “I… I don’t really sleep in the bed anyways. The couch is better.” 

Your eyes narrow. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.” He can tell you’re hesitant, but your rushed movements have paused. “My apartment is across the hall! I feel awful for invading your space like this already.” 

Bucky sits on the edge of the bed and watches curiously as you shift to sit next to him. Both your legs are dangling off, almost brushing his, and Bucky feels warmer than he had all week. “Doll, I’m serious. Beds are weird for me. I haven’t had one in so long that sometimes they’re just too overwhelming for me to sleep in.” 

He almost jumps when your head rests against his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t think of that.” 

“It’s good to see somebody getting good use out of this bed.” He leans into you slightly. “My ma would have thrown a fit if she saw how much this bed was. 800 dollars for a mattress... 800 dollars back then is like, thousands now.” 

You laugh softly. Bucky glances down again. Your eyes are closed and he thinks you’re almost asleep until you talk. “Do you… Would someone being there help you sleep in the bed?” 

You don’t open your eyes and Bucky’s almost glad for that because he can’t look away from you. “I… I don’t know. It’s only been Al and I.” His eyes follow the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe slow and calm. 

You finally look up. “You should stay with me. The couch isn’t comfortable to sleep on, I would know.” You elbow his stomach gently. 

He nods before he can even think about it. “If… If you’re comfortable with it.” He whispers. 

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t. I promise.” You move away from him and Bucky already misses the warmth you radiate. “I’ll let you change.” 

He leans against the bathroom door as soon as it’s shut behind him. “It’s okay.” He mumbles to himself. His nightmares had been getting better, but that didn’t mean they were gone entirely. 

They probably never would be. And he knew he couldn’t let himself be afraid of the bed for the rest of his life. He had bought the bed. He just hadn’t expected his attempt at getting over the anxiety to be with you. 

Why had he said yes? He thinks as he shakily slips his jacket off. He looks at himself in the mirror and sighs. It was a good question, why had he said yes? 

He slips into his sweatpants and just stands in the bathroom. He couldn’t change his mind now. 

Well, he could. He knew you would give him a kind smile and reassure him that he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to. You were just that person. Kind and understanding and holding no judgement. 

“Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “Okay.” He shakes his shoulders out and picks up his discarded clothes. He stops at the linen closet and pulls out his blanket and pillow. 

You’re already wrapped up in your blanket again when Bucky comes back into the room. Alpine has moved to lay the floor in front of his bed. You smile sleepily at Bucky. He feels himself smile back. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

(When his eyes crack open the next morning he finds Alpine curled at his feet and you curled into his side, he knows being with you wouldn’t be bad. It’s the first time he lets himself think maybe this really is a crush.) 

//

So, Bucky has a crush. Which is a little ridiculous because he’s over a century old and having a crush is so high school, but it’s there. When you smile in the hall and butterflies rush through his stomach or when his chest warms at a picture you’ve sent of you and Alpine. It’s so obviously there. 

“What are you staring at?” Your voice shakes him when he realizes he’s been staring at you this entire time. You’re sitting next to him on the couch, so close your legs are touching. “Do I have something on my face?” You reach a hand up to your cheek. 

Bucky shakes his head hastily. “No. Sorry, I was just lost in my thoughts.”

“Penny?” You ask softly and Bucky furrows his brows in confusion. “Penny for your thoughts.” You clarify quickly. 

He thinks the smile that appears on your face is bashful and it makes Bucky feel just a little more confident. Maybe he made you as nervous as you made him. 

“You’re really pretty.” He says suddenly. Your eyes widen and you look away nervously. A hand scratches at the back of your neck and Bucky bites down on his lip as he watches you. Not exactly how he hoped that would go. “I mean… I was just looking at… how pretty you were.” He cringes at the words as they come out of his mouth. 

He used to be so much smoother than this, he thinks. He remembered having a new girl on his arm every week and a friend of theirs for Steve. 

Alpine meows loudly and Bucky just knows the cat is laughing at him. “Thank you.” You finally say quietly. “I… I didn’t think you thought that about me.” 

“‘Course I do.” He says equally as quietly. “Always thought you were pretty.” He glances at you and smirks, “Even when I thought you were weird too.” 

You gasp and turn to look at him. “You thought I was weird?” 

Bucky laughs and nods. “After you came in the middle of the night for salt? A little. And the fact that you keep calling me James when I’ve told you it’s Bucky.” He raises an eyebrow. 

You smile brightly. “You introduced yourself as James. Why would I call you anything else?” 

Bucky presses his tongue to his cheek as he tries not to laugh. “Yeah. I’ve regretted that every day since. Nobody’s called me James since the forties.” 

You scoff. “I find that hard to believe.” 

Bucky looks away. “Well for decades I was referred to as soldat.” He glances down at his hands. He’d stop wearing his gloves around you after you’d spent the night, even told you a little of his story the next morning. 

Sam thinks your relationship is weird. You spend the night sometimes and both of you find time to spend together when you can. It’s like you’re dating, but Bucky knows it’s not really like that. He thinks you both bring a sense of calm to one another. 

He’s not sure how to shift that, or if you would even want to, into a relationship. He glances back at you with a tense smile. “Steve always called me Buck. Sam calls me Bucky. Last person to call me James was probably my mother.” 

“I’m sorry… I never meant to-'' You take a deep breath like you’re preparing yourself for what you're going to say next. 

Bucky shakes his head. “It’s fine. I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I was just pointing it out.” He tries to smile reassuringly. 

“I was just trying to flirt.” You say so quickly the words sound jumbled together. 

It takes him a moment to comprehend what you’ve said. “With me?” He points to himself. The words make his confidence rise exponentially. “You were trying to flirt with me?” 

“With you.” You confirm with a slow nod. You start laughing, but it’s soft and happy. “Of course I was! I wanted you to remember me! How could I do that if I called you what everybody else does?” 

“I don’t know. Anything else?” He laughs along with you. “I…” He shakes his head with a smile. 

You both settle and Bucky hears you inhale sharply. “The salt to come see you and talk, the cookies and treats for Alpine… I’ve had this huge crush on you since you moved in.” You say softly. 

Bucky nods, he could see it now. Then he starts laughing again. He feels you smack his shoulder. “I’m sorry… You… Sam said that those cookies and treats were you trying to get me and Alpine to like you.” 

You roll your eyes at him. “Keen eye. He saw I was flirting.” You tease gently. “Does it… Does it bother you? Or change anything? The fact that I was flirting?” You ask softly and full of nerves. 

Bucky smiles sweetly. “That depends. Do you still want to flirt with me?” 

You narrow your eyes, but nod. “I don’t ask just any boy to sleep in the same bed as me.” 

“Just me and Alpine?” Bucky nudges your knee with his. You nod softly and he inhales a deep, nervous breath. “It worked.” He says quietly. 

You nudge his knee back. “It did?” 

He turns to look at you again. You’re already looking up at him with hopeful eyes and Bucky feels his heart race. “Yeah. I like you a lot. I don’t... I haven’t felt this way in a long time.” 

A smile breaks out on your face. “I like you a lot too.” You whisper, like you’re afraid anything louder will break the moment. 

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers back. You nod excitedly and lean towards him. Bucky places a gentle hand on your cheek as shuts his eyes and leans in. 

His chest warms when your lips press against his tentatively, like you’re both still nervous it’s not real. Your lips are soft and Bucky knows his own are chapped, but he feels you smile against him and can’t stop his own smile from overtaking his face. 

You pull away, but you’re still close enough that your lips are brushing against his. He’s caught up in the moment staring at you when he feels something rub against his shin. 

It makes you pull apart. Alpine is rubbing himself against both your legs and purring softly. Bucky presses a kiss to your cheek. 

“Think you won both of us over.” 

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

notes // what do you do when your midterm is an essay & gave you a headache? write bucky barnes fanfiction. thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it. ps i’ve seen some spelling mistakes promise to edit those in the morning!

[pet-genius]

A complex and many-layered thing

But Harry’s anger at Snape continued to pound through his veins like venom. Let go of his anger? He could as easily detach his legs. . . .

This is the first Occlumency lesson. Harry is right, of course. Feelings don’t go away because you want them to. To let go of them when they’ve not been addressed or validated can be as hard as detaching a leg. And yet, it’s what Dumbledore asked Snape to do, and it’s what Snape had to do to survive the first war as Dumbledore’s spy. You have to ask yourself… how?

Trapped animals chew off their own legs to escape. It’s a sacrifice they make to survive.

If there’s one thing in a fic that turns me off it, it’s the idea that Occlumency shields are a thing, that Severus was so gifted at it because he’s got some power like Second Sight or being a metamorphagus. I always preferred to think of Occlumency and Legilimency as skills that can be learned, even if some have more aptitude for it than others.

Severus entered Hogwarts with the kind of life experience that primed him for developing these skills, and left it with even more. Occlumency is magical dissociation, a post-traumatic coping mechanism, and Severus has C/PTSD. More under the cut; tw: just general angst.

To survive, he would have had to develop a knack for telling how explosive and unpredictable people feel. Over his life, he faced at least two egregious examples of what Pete Walker, author of “Complex PTSD” calls “the Charming Bully”.

Especially devolved fight types can become sociopathic. Sociopathy can range along a continuum that stretches from corrupt politician to vicious criminal. A particularly nasty sociopath, who I call the charming bully, probably falls somewhere around the middle of this continuum. The charming bully behaves in a friendly manner some of the time. He can even occasionally listen and be helpful in small amounts, but he still uses his contempt to overpower and control others. This type typically relies on scapegoats for the dumping of his vitriol. These unfortunate scapegoats are typically weaker than him. […] He generally spares his favorites from this behavior, unless they get out of line. If the charming bully is charismatic enough, those close to him will often fail to register the unconscionable meanness of his scapegoating. The bully’s favorites often slip into denial, relieved that they are not the target. Especially charismatic bullies may even be admired and seen as great.

These would be James Potter and Tom Riddle, who are distantly related, I might add. Harry inherited the tendency to default to the fight response, but since he grew up the scapegoat and not the golden child, he never becomes quite as appalling, and after all, a fight response is normal when they are after you. Even so, Harry, who has both James and Voldemort inside him, triggers Severus to no end. It’s not a coincidence that the memories Harry sees when he is with him are largely horrible, and vice versa. There had to be happy or at least neutral or even boring moments, but these two detest each other, and they know they detest each other. Negative emotions and associated memories are so close to the surface they can’t be contained. This is the purpose of the Pensieve in this context - to contain the emotions. Since Severus knew what was in there when he pulled Harry out, my theory is that you don’t suddenly forget the memories you placed there, but rather you make them less fraught with emotions.

“Get up!” said Snape sharply. “Get up! You are not trying, you are making no effort, you are allowing me access to memories you fear, handing me weapons!”

Harry stood up again, his heart thumping wildly as though he had really just seen Cedric dead in the graveyard. Snape looked paler than usual, and angrier, though not nearly as angry as Harry was. “I — am — making — an — effort,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I told you to empty yourself of emotion!”

“Yeah? Well, I’m finding that hard at the moment,” Harry snarled.

“Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord!” said Snape savagely. “Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily — weak people, in other words — they stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!”

A lot to unpack here.

“Memories you fear,” “weapons”, “easy prey”.

Fearing your own memories, viewing your own lived experiences as weapons to be used against you, being easy prey… Severus could not be speaking louder of himself here. He is the one whose mind had been penetrated with absurd ease, he is the one who handed weapons to Voldemort, and he is the one who had to do the psychological equivalent of detaching his own leg – again and again – to survive.

I’ll argue that Severus developed a fawn response and a flight response, as fighting had never really worked out for him if it was possible at all. He had at least two more people I’d describe as bullies in his life, Tobias and Lucius.

Again from Pete Walker:

These [fawn] response patterns are so deeply set in the psyche, that as adults, many codependents automatically respond to threat like dogs, symbolically rolling over on their backs, wagging their tails, hoping for a little mercy and an occasional scrap. Webster’s second entry for fawn is: “to show friendliness by licking hands, wagging its tail, etc.: said of a dog.” I find it tragic that some codependents are as loyal as dogs to even the worst “masters”.

Remember what Sirius called him? Lucius’s lapdog. Bellatrix called him Dumbledore’s pet, Dumbledore said he dangles on Voldemort’s arm, the narrative compares Snape to a rabbit in SWM and Harry compares the Half Blood Prince to a beloved pet who had gone feral (yes, this does mean a lot to me on a personal level, yes my username is not a coincidence).

His unconscious fawn response might have been his undoing, drawn as he was to figures like Lucius and Voldemort. As an adult, I think he utilized the skills he had developed to survive in order to stitch these people up, and involuntary dissociation and fawning became Occlumency, which to me, is his signature magic. Harry needed only to banish Voldemort from his mind; Severus could not settle for this. He had to give Voldemort something, and knowing how to fawn meant knowing what to give him and how to draw himself in such a light that Voldemort would believe it. We see how he wanted to be seen by the Death Eaters: a self-serving coward who sought to hide behind Dumbledore’s apron, playing his pet. But that’s Pettigrew, not Snape. Imagine the self-immolation, the self-violation, it must have taken to convince everyone that you’re an ersatz Wormtail! Snape is a man and a prince, and the text recognizes this as Harry calls him, in the end, Dumbledore’s man, the bravest man, and as that chapter is called “The Prince’s Tale”. Voldemort thought Snape was nothing more than a “good and faithful servant,” and that his last words were “My Lord”.

But Severus had an unequaled gift for Occlumency, specifically against Voldemort, because Voldemort could not legilimens what he couldn’t feel; and he couldn’t feel love, grief, guilt, and remorse. This was Severus’s secret weapon, which would not have worked against Harry - who can feel these things, and who is also Lily’s son. I can prove it. The first time Harry gets the hang of Occlumency is after Dobby dies:

His scar burned, but he was master of the pain; he felt it, yet was apart from it. He had learned control at last, learned to shut his mind to Voldemort, the very thing Dumbledore had wanted him to learn from Snape. Just as Voldemort had not been able to possess Harry while Harry was consumed with grief for Sirius, so his thoughts could not penetrate Harry now, while he mourned Dobby. Grief, it seemed, drove Voldemort out . . . though Dumbledore, of course, would have said that it was love. . . .

Harry learned to dissociate, though fortunately in a healthier way than many of us ever get to.

Of course, Snape was a good and faithful servant… to Dumbledore, which brings us to the flight response. The chapter wherein he escapes after killing Dumbledore is called “Flight of the Prince”. He should be fighting, he had just proven that he can cast a killing curse, and yet he flees. He can literally fly, in fact: He, Lily, and Voldemort are the only ones we see pulling this off.

As a child, we see this too: He copes with his home situation by reminding himself “it won’t be long and I’ll be gone.” He is thrilled when he imagines Hogwarts, his escape; he follows Lily out of the carriage instead of confronting James and Sirius head-on (which might have saved them all a lot of pain eventually). But this doesn’t work out, we see that in terrifying detail. The next attempt at an escape is joining the Death Eaters, but this too doesn’t work out.

He can’t flee anymore.

“Severus, you cannot pretend this isn’t happening!” Karkaroff’s voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard. “It’s been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can’t deny it —”

“Then flee,” said Snape’s voice curtly. “Flee — I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts.”

Shortly thereafter:

“Severus,” said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, “you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready . . . if you are prepared . . .”

“I am,” said Snape.

He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.

He was ready, and he was prepared. He didn’t fly; he walked toward what might well have been his end with open eyes, armed only with the strength of his mind. Before Voldemort killed him, he looked pale, again, and terrified.

“I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore.”

And now Snape looked at Voldemort, and Snape’s face was like a death mask. It was marble white and so still that when he spoke, it was a shock to see that anyone lived behind the blank eyes.

I ask myself if this was the moment he realized he had been betrayed, that by giving Dumbledore a painless death he had secured his own. Maybe he wasn’t pale because he was scared; maybe he was pale because he was shocked. He was at his absolute limit, Occluding with all his might when he could have easily saved himself. The dam is about to break. All the memories he feared, all the weapons, the entire content of his heart is about to spill through - literally.

He fawned for Voldemort, the worst of all possible masters, but in the end, he was Voldemort’s undoing. All the ways in which he was weak and powerless against Tobias, James, Lucius, et al., proved to be part of goodness and source of his power. It doesn’t surprise me in the least that Snape is so loved. I’ve never actually seen such love for any other fictional character. He represents a kind of courage that many of us need to get by, lest we simply become evil or give the fuck up (“I wish I was dead”). A kind of courage rarely celebrated. The more time I’ve spent in the fandom in general and in the Snapedom in particular, the more I am convinced of this.

[bipolbur]

this got long as hell so i put it under a cut i just love rambling so fucking much.

so it’s basically like. the beginning of the story tommy wakes up in this room. think the first room of pandora’s vault but if it was an office rather than a reception area. and sam is like sitting in front of him and is like “hello. you have died. badly.” and tommy is not really Surprised he’s dead because the last thing he remembers before waking up here is searching desperately for wilbur within a building and a sudden explosion.

so tommy’s like “okay. where’s wilbur? also im going to heaven right bc ive been objectively based and poggers my entire life?” and sam’s like “wilbur’s not here.” and tommy’s confused bc he assumed wilbur died in the blast too considering he’s the dickhead who set it off, but sam just continues “and technically, yes, you would be going to heaven EXCEPT you’ve actually been pre-determinedly destined to be an emissary of heaven and hell. so”

so basically tommy’s job is to fix. clerical errors. sometimes people get sent to heaven by mistake, sometimes people get sent to hell by mistake, SOMETIMES people get sent to the wrong circle of hell and it’s a whole thing. but tommy has the ability to see into peoples souls and know where they belong. there are also places like the inbetween and limbo, and limbo is actually a circle of hell in this while the inbetween is the place between life and death but that’s not like super important rn just a note.

but basically dream is in charge of that whole section of stuff, so sam hands him off to dream, and tommy immediately tries to sneak away to find wilbur. bc wilbur HAS to be dead, if wilbur seriously set off a blast to kill himself and tommy’s the only one who ended up dead tommy will be SORE (even if he would also be just a bit grateful). but dream finds him, tells him that the blast only killed tommy and some number of people also in the building, and wilbur managed to survive it. tommy’s kind of bitter, upset that he doesn’t get to see wilbur anymore, upset that this all fucking happened, but he Is glad wilbur’s alive. even if it’s all kind of fucked.

so… a century passes! and tommy is pretty good at his job. it’s basically just to find souls who are out of place, stab them with this giantass sword dream gave him (“the first rule is never, ever point that thing at me” “okay. im definitely going to. what’s the second rule?” “don’t point it at yourself”), and send them where they belong.

basically what happens is tommy will point them out in the fields of heaven or hell, and dream will grab them. he presents them to tommy with a burlap bag over their head that they cannot see/talk/hear through, and tommy has the choice to just stab them or talk to them. first fifty years, tommy was always talking to them, gets to know them before he sends them off, which dream enjoys as well, but eventually tommy gets tired of it. of people begging for mercy when they’re already dead. of people who just spent forever in hell when they really belonged in heaven, bitter and angry and blaming.

some demons of note in this fic are quackity and schlatt, whose jobs are to torture souls in hell, as well as tubbo, who is a guard of the gates between levels of hell. tommy has gotten to know all three, tubbo bc well tommy passes through levels a lot and they’ve become besties, quackity bc tommy’s not a big Torture Fan but he thinks quackity’s pretty cool and funny when he doesn’t think about his job. at some point, tommy learns what happens when he stabs a demon with his sword instead of a human soul. schlatt dies. badly.

but yeah a century passes. and tommy’s getting kind of antsy and confused because wilbur still hasn’t died. he knows this because if wilbur HAD, he would have felt it. he’s not sure if that’s something he could really do or something he’s convinced himself he could because it’s wilbur, but he WOULD he is SURE OF IT. he asks dream but dream is always vague and weird as hell about wilbur, or explicitly telling tommy he should not care about the man who murdered him, which always ends in an argument because wil didnt MURDER HIM it was a fucking ACCIDENT it’s not wilbur’s FAULT.

one day, and it’s been ages since tommy saw a soul in the wrong place, him and tubbo are wandering the fields of like low level hell, the ones who are fucked up but their torture is usually just psychological and they’re not That bad, just talking and he sees a soul that is nastier than anything he has ever fucking seen. like, he knows immediately they belong FAR fucking below, so no one ever sees them again. so he calls on dream who happily walks into the field and puts a sack over the soul (note: when dream comes into the field, the souls cower and try to get away, but the nasty soul just hovers and lets it happen) and immediately they go to dispose of it.

so dream makes the soul get on their knees and kneel in front of tommy to he slain, but as tommy raises his sword, the soul starts to look… confusing. like, the nastiness of their soul feels… flaky. like someones rubbed charcoal around it, and now that tommy’s got his hands on it, it’s coming off. so he’s like “dream i think i got it wrong” and dream’s like “tommy, you’ve never been wrong before” and tommy’s like freaking the fuck out and begging not to have to kill this soul but dream is pushing him/pressuring him and tommy asks to talk to the soul for the first time in 50 years and for the first time ever dream refuses him to talk to the soul

eventually tommy uses his sword but just to take off the burlap sack from the soul’s head and they look up and it’s wilbur. it’s fucking wilbur who looks fucking SHATTERED absolutely exhausted absolutely fucked up. but when his eyes land on tommy he looks surprised. then confused. then his eyes land on the sword and he looks something like grateful, and he asks in a croaky, tired, almost amused voice tommy is hearing for the first time in one hundred years, “did you miss me?”

and tommy’s pissed. and at first wilbur thinks it’s at him but tommy’s fury turns on dream because dream LIED TO HIM dream fucking tricked him and dream’s like “i told you he didn’t die in the explosion, that was the truth, and you saw that his soul is in the wrong place and now you need to KILL HIM” and tommy disobeys the first rule and turns his sword on dream as he steps in front of wilbur. and dream is still saying shit about killing wilbur, that it’s not too late, and wilbur even says, “you may want to listen to him, tommy” but tommy tells them both to shut the fuck up, grabs wilbur’s arm to pull him up, and books it the fuck out of there.

so basically most of this fic is tommy and wilbur on the run in hell. also wilbur trying to convince tommy to just fucking do it. but tommy fucking refuses. they’re sneaking about by themselves for a while, but tommy’s actual goal is to get them to the inbetween to hide wilbur there bc hell has less like actual grasp there PLUS tbh they’re really badly organized and would definitely miss a random soul.

so tommy goes to quackity, who is engaged to the keeper of the inbetween, except it’s a little awkward bc turns out quackity was like. wilbur’s torturer for a while. awkward! but wilbur is actually fairly. not scared of quackity. which is kind of annoying quackity a little bit, but also making him curious as hell what other people put wilbur through that what quackity did isn’t that bad in comparison. bc in quackity’s opinion, he did just fucking fine, though also it was when he was like intern-level, like wilbur was basically the first person he ever tortured, BUT STILL. anyway.

so quackity’s a bit fucking. nervous about all this but willing to help tommy, willing to smuggle him and wilbur to the inbetween. the only issue is tubbo guards the doors. WHICH yknow it helps that tommy is tubbo’s best friend, BUT TUBBO IS KIND OF A NARC. just a little bit. and tommy’s explanation of “im smuggling a dangerous person out of hell” is erm. NOT tubbo’s favorite. especially bc dream has called out to all demons/people in hell telling them HEY. GRAB THESE BITCHES. or whatever.

but yeah tubbo does help them, quackity helps them, but unfortunately they get kind of erm. caught. like quackity and tubbo don’t bc quackity only gets them as far as the inbetween then dips, and tubbo stays at the gates, but dream is trying to make tommy kill wilbur again. and this is all very fucking stupid in tommy’s opinion, HE’S the one who sees peoples souls and HE’S telling people that wilbur’s was COMPROMISED, he belongs exactly where he was, except tommy doesn’t want him there so he’s sneaking him out and people should just UNDERSTAND THAT. um. but basically. tommy ends up breaking the second rule and stabs himself with the sword bc . okay so the sword is Part Of Tommy. like. when i said earlier dream gave him the sword, it can literally only be used by tommy. so tommy figured killing himself with it would make it unusable.

then tommy wakes up. he has a knife in his hand. he’s very confused. then himself walks into the room, chatting like he would, and then he sees the knife and is confused. but trusting. this tommy trusts him. and tommy, with no ability not to, stabs him. it takes a few more times of this, of killing himself in different ways, before he realizes that HE’S not killing HIMSELF. wilbur is killing him. he’s somehow launched himself into wilbur’s hell, and as he’s freaking the fuck out trying to figure out how the hell to get out of this, a hand grabs him and he’s suddenly in quackity’s kitchen.

turns out that quackity can basically still see when wilbur’s hell is active. so seeing it suddenly flip to on, well, quackity assumed they got caught and wilbur had gotten taken back to his hell and so he went there to grab him and found tommy instead. and they talk and discuss for a bit, plans and shit, how the hell to get wilbur from dream, when quackity sees wilbur’s hell switch on again. and tommy has his plan.

basically they have to heist tommy’s sword so he can kill himself again to end up back in wilbur’s hell. since it isn’t actually tommy’s hell, he should be able to get enough control to break them out. the heist takes some time and they pick up tubbo on the way, and dream ends up getting tubbo basically right as tommy kills himself again, and that’s a whole thing. but he’s back in wilbur’s hell. except this time he’s playing himself. and wilbur is just killing him, over and over again, unable to not, and it kind of sucks fucking majorly because, well, it hurts like he’s actually being killed, and wilbur goes in and out of numb to it and having a fucking breakdown as he does it and it’s all very fucking shit. and tommy spends so much time trying to talk wilbur through, trying to figure out a way out, until eventually when wilbur comes at him, tommy grabs the knife and guts wilbur instead. and wilbur looks very confused. and they manage to break out.

so tommy is now trying to get wilbur to limbo, a level of hell but one that is more of a waiting room, but dream almost immediately captures them again. and it sucks. and dream is telling them that because they wiped the muck from wilbur’s soul, he’s “going to have to torture him again! all over again! do you know how long it takes to torture a soul until they look so fucked up they belong in the LAST level of hell? jesus, guys, it’s like you don’t appreciate my work”

bc apparently dream had been like. physically and psychologically torturing wilbur on a level that is more on par with deeper levels of hell for like. Years. to get him muddied enough that tommy wouldn’t recognize his soul. he did it to others too, as tests, just to make sure tommy wouldn’t be able to see through, and they worked just fine! they’re damned forever, not because they deserve to be, but because dream made them that way! he doesn’t know what makes wilbur so fucking special! <- this is also why wilbur is like “okay sure i’ll work with quackity i mean he tortured me but it was mostly just showing me visions of all of my sins at least he didn’t take my teeth out one by one”

so anyway. dream starts torturing wilbur. badly. and tommy just kind of has to like. be there. and then dream realizes it’ll actually probably fuck up wilbur more if he tortures tommy. and then he’s just sort of having fun putting them in hellish situations/scenarios. this is also when tommy learns how wilbur actually died aka being stabbed in the stomach by his father bc that did in fact still happen.

also btw this is not sanctioned by XD (essentially God) who likes tommy thinks he’s a fun guy big fan of his weirdass emissary. so while this is all happening, tubbo and quackity are trying to get like. fucking council with XD but it’s going poorly bc well. he’s XD. busy guy and all. also does not gaf about some low-level demons.

um but at some point wilbur has been. muddied ig. his soul is nasty again. and dream gives tommy his sword and tells him to make it happen. and tommy is so tired. him and wilbur have literally been to hell, not even back, just stayed there together and are fucking miserable. and i don’t know the exact way it gets to this point, but tommy has spent the time they’re being tortured essentially. trying to unmuddy wil’s soul like. with his own kindness? sort of? but it isn’t working. bc tommy says shit such as “it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t mean to” etc etc and wilbur cannot believe that. will not. it was his fault.

but before tommy kills wilbur, he realizes where he’s gone wrong. and he’s essentially like “you killed me. you hurt me. i spent a century thinking about it every fucking day, i spent a century hating you and missing you and i wish i’d gotten to live past 16 and you fucking took that away from me. and i forgive you.” and wilbur does not feel he deserves forgiveness, but it is… not a comfort, exactly, for tommy to finally admit that wilbur did fuck up. badly. and that it hurt him and he’s bitter toward wilbur for it. but it makes the forgiveness feel real. it makes wilbur feel like there is something salvageable. and this does not completely undo the damage on his soul, but when tommy stabs him, wilbur is sent to limbo rather than the final level of hell.

dream is under the impression that tommy has done his job properly, though, and is pleased. they go back to semi-normal, but tommy is secretly trying to go to XD behind dream’s back, trying to make this council actually happen, but dream will NOT let tommy out of his sight so tommy can barely even talk to quackity and tubbo and it’s a whole fucking thing.

limbo is also kind if shit bc it’s the erm. time go fast level of hell. which is part of the torture, that when they are let out to another level has been Years and years longer for them than the outside world. so quackity and tubbo try to visit wilbur, but it’s hard to get permission And it’s usually been a year for wilbur while it’s been a couple weeks for them.

anyway. there is a fairly happy ending to this. but im bored of typing and i haven’t fully developed it yet.

also i feel like i wasn’t very clear on how the torture works it’s like. there are a certain amount of levels of hell. and on level one, it is mostly low-level psychological torture with the occasional roughing up. like most torturers in level one just make their client relive the day they died or the worst day of their life fr. and then as you raise in level, it gets worse and worse. but the torturers don’t just stay on one level for the most part, like quackity for example like he tortures wilbur but mostly with like. visions of killing his brother/all the other people, but when he tortures, say, someone on like level 5 or whatever, he will be ripping their teeth out one by one like dream does to wilbur, it’s just that wilbur’s not Supposed to be tortured like that. the level of torture is supposed to be based on the. level of damage against your soul basically. it’s a really fucked up system. anyway.

you also may be asking “why is dream doing all of that?” well. i haven’t really figured that one out yet if im honest but he’s having fun at least.

the reason i have so many aus is i need to tell myself a little story at all times or i’ll actually start thinking and turn into the joker BUT i get bored of telling the same story over and over so i like force my brain to think of something new or i’ll blow us both up. all this to say i just had a very fun crimeboys au idea

[shoyoackerman]

(ignore the previous request I sent 😭) an-knee-ways, I’m back again with another college au hc request. May I request college student!satori? I couldn’t choose between kenma & satori at first bcs they’re my highest kins but here I am. thanks in advance. <3333

college!satori hcs

| Satori is a morning person. The first person to wake up in the apartment, energy drink for breakfast as he stares out at the sunrise by the balcony. Just as the sun begins to rise and the sky paints itself like a scene from a Studio Ghibli film. An explosion of purple, blues and yellows.

| He loves the morning, the light. Because all his life as a child growing up he had been kept at the back, in the dark.

| Bilingual? No. Trilingual? Yes! Satori speaks French and English fluently. He likes to insult everyone in French, knowing that none of them know what he’s saying. (“Tetsu you’re a fugly baguette” “did you just call me a bread!?”)

| Satori takes food science. When he first started he needed Tetsurou help because he understood nothing about the chemistry element. Was completely flabbergasted at science being involved but found it really interesting to learn about food. Likes to use his knowledge from class to annoy everyone whilst they eat (“you know that’ll kill you” “suck my dick” “well that is a source of protein!”)

| Works at the bakery down the street from their apartment where the old lady who owns the place loves Satori and his friends. Allows him to take home food that doesn’t get sold. Satori loves baking with her, it makes him feel like a child again being able to bake with a mother figure. #absentmotherthings

| On campus some people are still afraid of him and his eccentric personality, it’s not as bad as middle school and high school where people would outright point and laugh or talk behind his back. In college he is more ignored which honestly doesn’t hurt as bad, it still stings a small part of him. However there are also a lot more eccentric personalities in college that makes him fit right in. (Besides, people have more worries than society's standards of what is normal, such as midterms and exams!)

| Theatre boy Satori at your service. Absolutely in love with that class, especially since Shoyo is also in the same class as him. Will act out the entire twilight plot with him as Edward and Shoyo as Bella. The professors are sick of him. (They held a Addams Family Performance, Satori was Mortica and Shoyo played Gomez. Was the performance of the year)

| You will absolutely find him singing ‘It’s Tough to Be A God’ from El Dorado in the cafeteria. Has a whole ensemble. Actually knows the exact lines from the entire movie and will randomly recite it. (Has been written up for disrupting class)

| Psychology boy Satori to the rescue. No but he tops the class, will take one look at you and figure you out. The therapist friend that everyone goes to, only is literally a therapist. He really enjoys it, loves the critical thinking aspect and the way you learn about the human mind. Although he has great potential to be a therapist, he looks his career advisors dead in the eyes and says “No thanks, I’m going to be an embalmer” he was sent to the counsellor the next day.

| Satori and Keiji will talk about astrology and peoples mbti signs. Satori, Kenma and Takanobu are the only ones allowed near Keiji’s crystals.

| You know how there's always that one person in class who's always eating. Satori is that person. Constantly. Professors don’t say anything because he always brings them a cup of their favourite coffee.

| Satori has and continues to teach classes whenever their professor is late. Has the whole set up, his own pointer-stick in his bag just in case. And whenever the professors come in he will single them out like they’re a late student. Everyone loves Professor Tendou.

| Country music enthusiast. His ringtone is Jolene. Will purposely have his phone on the ringer and let calls ring out just so he can sing along to the song. The professors have started confiscating his phone before class. Not like that will stop him. Has a backup flip phone in his sock.

| Satori and Rintaro once hotboxed Yuji's car. Everyone came out of the apartment and saw the car smoked up with flashing led lights and music booming from inside.

| Wikipedia is his best friend. He loves his classes (most of the time) but he’s also the biggest procrastinator. Not like he does it on purpose he just gets distracted easily by other things. #adhdthings

| And so whenever he's stuck on homework and essays he goes to Wikipedia and copies what he needs and then translates it into Hindu and then into English and back into Japanese before correcting misspellings. Plagiarise is his middle name.

| Gets invited to the biggest and best parties. Every weekend he’s out, and will drag everyone with him. Including Kenma by bribing him with his famous peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. Most of those parties end with all of them extremely hungover with no recollection of the night before. Except Rintaro who has an unfairly high alcohol tolerance and records everything. everything.

| (At the end of the year Rin will do a slideshow of every embarrassing photo and video he has of everyone. A night of chaos)

| Outrageously annoying at home and likes to play the tsunami siren on speaker to wake everyone up. And I’m return for being annoying he offers them piping hot pancakes and bacon for breakfast.

| Is the designated cook along with Shoyo. They will alternate between who cooks breakfast and who cooks dinner. Nobody else is allowed in the kitchen after Tetsu and Rintaro burned the food and the fire department was called and everyone in the building had to evacuate.

| Has nicknames for all the professors and will say it to their face and they allow it. Is definitely a favourite student but also one of their most annoying. Still all secretly love him.

+ BONUS

Satori always had plans on moving away from Japan. He didn’t have the greatest memories in Miyagi, aside from being at Shiratorizawa. He wanted to start anew, somewhere nobody knew him and wouldn’t judge him. He was tempted, really tempted, to get the cheapest plane flight to anywhere in the world when Tetsurou called him asking if he wanted to be roommates with seven other people. Best decision he had ever made.

+ BONUS PT. 2

His music is the most chaotic shit you’ll ever hear <3

+ BONUS PT. 3

his style is *mwah* immaculate

[onecanonlife]

Tommy is dead. The server reacts.

(word count: 1,732)

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

“What have you done?”

His voice is a reedy whisper, thin with horror and the realization that he is too little, too late. He doesn’t expect the sound to carry over the lava, but a response comes soon enough.

“He wouldn’t stop talking. And he killed the cat.”

Dream’s voice is even, calm, almost a bit defensive, as if he truly believes that he is justified in his actions. Sam swallows down his mounting nausea, places his trident against the floor to steady himself. The lava crackles, hisses, bubbles, orange and glowing, and he can’t cross it. Not now. Not when the security threat remains unresolved. Not when any wrong move on his part could very well mean Dream’s escape.

But he’s already made the wrong move, hasn’t he? Made the wrong move, and Tommy has paid for it. Has been paying for it, this whole last week. He kept him in there, kept him locked in a box with Dream even though he knows very well how it would effect him, kept him locked in with the reasoning that it was temporary, that he would let him out as soon as he could, that he couldn’t risk Dream’s release for anyone, even for Tommy.

But it’s not temporary.

Tommy was sixteen and loud-mouthed and bright-eyed when Sam last saw him, when he said that this would be the last time, that he was going to put his past behind him and look to a new start. Tommy will always be sixteen and loud-mouthed and bright-eyed, and locked in a box. There will be no new start. No seventeenth birthday. No triumphant return, no shining hotel. No tricks, no scams, no pranks.

Tommy was sixteen and loud-mouthed and bright-eyed. Tommy is dead.

He can’t even get his body.

He can’t even get his body.

Sam stands on the edge of a curtain of lava, staring into the orange glow that hides a monster in a room that is now a child’s pre-made coffin, and he wonders if he is a monster himself.

***

“He’s fine.”

It’s the only thing to say. The only truth. The only possibility. Sure, the message is there, glaring up from his communicator in bright yellow letters, but it’s not real. It’s a joke of some kind, a trick. Something to fake everyone out. Maybe Sam’s in on it, too. Tommy must be going crazy in there, to think that this would actually be funny, but it sounds like something he would do.

“Tubbo,” Ranboo says, and then stops. Nothing else. His face is pale, though things like that are hard to tell, with him, considering that half his face is always pale. But he’s gone an ashy-grey sort of color, and it doesn’t look great.

“He’s not dead,” he says, and laughs a bit. “Tommy wouldn’t just die like that. That’d be ridiculous.”

Tommy’s death would never be so meek. Tommy’s death, when it happens, will be a spectacle, a dramatic showing with speeches and explosions and the sun rising at just the right time and haloing his hair, because TommyInnit deserves nothing less than the best death scene. Women wailing and the like. So Tommy is not dead, because if Tommy were dead, that would mean that he died alone, in the company of no one but his murderer, that he died scared, trapped in a small space with no way out, that he died without Tubbo by his side.

“Right,” Ranboo says, and his voice is doing a peculiar thing that Tubbo can’t quite work out. “Yeah, of course. Do you wanna—do you think we should go check it out? Go stop by the prison?”

“What for?” he asks. “Sam’s not going to let us in. He didn’t even when I built a dick on top of it.”

And here is another thing: Tommy can’t be dead because it was never supposed to be Tommy first. Tubbo has tried to live without him, and he found it very hard. So Tommy is not allowed to die before Tubbo does. That is the rule that he keeps locked up in his heart, because Tommy would be upset if he knew about it. But it’s a rule that Tubbo intends to follow, so Tommy can’t be dead.

That would be against the rules.

“Just to see?” Ranboo tries. Tubbo’s not sure why he’s being so insistent about this.

“Nah, we’ve got a hotel to build,” he says. “C’mon.”

Ranboo follows along behind him. His feet drag, like he’s reluctant. But Tubbo has long since given up on understanding why Ranboo does the things that he does.

***

He’s dead.

She should be glad about it. This is what she wanted. Tommy dead, punished for all the pain and suffering he’s caused everyone else. No longer able to start wars, to cause harm, to blaze his way through the server and leave a path of destruction in his wake.

Tommy is dead. She should be glad about it. She is glad about it. She’s even smiling.

There is a message from Jack. She doesn’t check it.

Tommy is dead, that blue-eyed, wide-grinned boy who followed along on his brother’s coattails. Tommy is dead, that fiery spirit crushed and his overbearing, fast-talking voice silent. Tommy is dead, that loyal friend, the protector and defender of all that he called his, the fighter, the scammer, the boy who loved with all of his heart and then some.

Tommy is dead. Dead, dead, dead. There is no coming back from dead. Dead is final. Dead is an ending. Dead means it’s all over. Tommy is over. Tommy is gone. Tommy will never grow old.

It’s what she wanted. She should be glad about it. She is glad about it. She’s even smiling.

Niki brings her hand to her mouth to check. It’s a smile. A smile, for sure.

Her fingers come away from her face wet.

***

It was an empty castle already, but it feels emptier now. The different between a possibility and its lack, they suppose.

Tommy was never supposed to die. They can’t fathom it, somehow. Can’t fathom that it’s real, that Tommy will never grace these halls again. They’d finally begun to fix things, begun to work toward redemption, well and truly. And now Tommy is gone.

Eret grips their communicator tightly in their hand.

“I’m sorry,” they murmur to no one at all.

It was never meant to be echoes in their head, over and over and over again, an apology that means nothing but so much scattered dust.

***

He closes his eyes. Breathes. In and out.

This happens. People die. They die, and they leave, and he’s left behind. That’s his life. That’s how it is.

It still hurts, when it happens. He’s still learning how to make it not hurt. Still learning how not to be angry, that people find it so easy to abandon him. That people find it so easy to go where he can’t follow. Wilbur first, now Tommy, and he doesn’t have anyone left, really.

But it’s fine. It’s alright. He can manage on his own. He always has.

Fundy decides to go to bed early.

***

He takes a moment to breathe. To process. To absorb.

To regret, for what might have been.

The voices in his head call for blood, as they always do, but he will not give them the satisfaction. Not this time. The blood he wants most is not readily accessible, and he will not put himself in the position of confronting the favor owed. Not now. Not like this. Not ever, if he can help it, though he knows that these sorts of things always take their due, always steal their pound of flesh.

“I know, chat,” he says. “You can all shut up, I know.”

It doesn’t appease them. He wasn’t expecting it to.

Tommy is dead. Tommy is dead, and their relationship with it. Any tentative attempts toward repairs have been left to rot, to burn on the funeral pyre. Theseus, fallen from the cliff at long last.

The story was always going to end this way. No one can stop the Fates from severing the string.

He stands with a groan. He is not built for this weather, for this cold, and it is a wonder that he keeps being drawn to it, time and time again. It is a balm, he thinks, but for what, he doesn’t know. For nothing, at the moment, as the voices threaten to crowd out all the rest. But he can’t deal with them right now.

Phil has his own house, now, and a bridge to connect the two. A bridge over still water, such that Tommy will never cross. He should not feel the way he does. Tommy betrayed him. Tommy used him. Tommy discarded him, so he tossed him aside in turn.

But once they were called brothers. Does it mean anything, in the end?

Phil is standing in the middle of the floor, ruined wings on full display. His face is blank, his communicator held loosely in one hand.

“Phil,” he says.

“I failed him,” Phil says. “I should’ve been there for him, and I wasn’t.”

Technoblade has no comfort for the truth.

But he has comfort for his friend, for his friend who is perhaps his father but is definitely family, so he stretches out his arms and catches Phil as he falls, falls and falls and screams, and it is good, he thinks, that the wings are already ruined, because Daedalus tried to catch his son and failed. It is good, he thinks, that the wings are already ruined, so he cannot try again and ruin the rest of himself, too.

***

He nudges the body with his foot.

“You shouldn’t have killed that cat,” he murmurs. The body does not reply, and he sighs.

Tommy’s face is beyond recognition. The blood coats his knuckles. He hopes that there’s enough water in the sink to wash it out before it sets. He hates it when the blood sets.

He didn’t mean to go as far as he did. That doesn’t mean much, in the end. This will work just as well.

He is a god, after all. He is a god, and he will have what he deserves, and more besides.

“Don’t worry, Tommy,” he says. “I’ll make a believer out of you yet.”

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand) 

author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous.  ҉   next.

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Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it. 

Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.

Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge. 

But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.

Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”

You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.

But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too. 

Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.

That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view. 

You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”. 

Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.

Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.

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“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don’t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”

Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.

“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.

r u dating sykkuno?

You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”

how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?

“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute. 

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.

Corpse_Husband: yes.

Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.

pack it up, sykkuno

More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets. 

“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”

we are prepared

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An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.

y/n is a child murderer

“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”

take a break and go eat queen <3

“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”

Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance. 

“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?” 

The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over. 

“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”

Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”

Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.

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You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”

If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae. 

looking hot, her message read. 

thanks, was all you replied with.

You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.

Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.

“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”

You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙