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wolvndmouth · 3 months ago

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Guys. I think about this shot a lot. Seven (7) times a day, minimum.

This is the exact moment Wade realizes that Logan looks at him, like really looks at him. Logan’s eyes have always been reading Wade in every way they can. Annoyed and scowling aside, he tries in earnest to understand who Wade is through his cracked humor and self-depreciation. No matter how angry he is, no matter how confused he is, he has eyes on Wade. When they’re staring at each other from opposite sides of a gun, when they’re sitting across each other in the diner, when they first fight in the Void, when they argue in the Odyssey; each one of these scenes have a moment where Wade is showing his cards and Logan, even through his rage and thirst to hurt, stills himself to listen and learn for as long as he can.

The man has no choice in the matter. Charles left him with the burden of knowing what it is to be loved, even at his most difficult. He’s felt the healing that comes from someone being able to look past his defenses and aggression and have the patience to plant compassion in the spaces of him that need it the most. He hasn’t been able to bring himself to unbury all the good he had before the bad, but it doesn’t stop him from having the guts to be gentle and kind when someone least deserves it. One of his gentlest moments is when he takes Juggernaut’s helmet off Cassandra to save her, and his wish to be the man that Charles thinks he is is what strengthens his ability to comfort the displaced and love-starved child that Nova really is. It is that same hope that allows him to take a chance on Wade. All Logan can do is hear him out and do his best to see the merc for who he truly is. It takes him some time, but from the moment they met in the bar, to joining Wade’s world, Logan’s gaze never wavers; it only changes as he grows to understand Wade more. He is able to look past Deadpool, and see Wade Wilson.

‘Never take your eyes off an enemy’ evolves into looking at a mirror to his own soul. Wade is everything Logan is, and everything Logan isn’t. They are yin and yang down to the very cores of their being, and for Logan, it’s a tough pill to swallow when he realizes just how easy it is for Wade to love. It’s not only consistently thrown in his face with Wade’s repeated reminders of what’s at stake, but Wade showing him the picture of everything he has left forces him to reflect on the walls he’s built around himself and why. He has made so many mistakes, and he can do nothing but examine his own failures as an X-Man and as Logan himself. He is astounded by Wade’s ability to survive with his heart so crudely stapled to his sleeve, and when he looks at that photo, there’s a piece of him that almost wouldn’t mind being a part of the portrait. He thinks of a world where Scott doesn’t have to beg him to put on the suit. Where Jean, Storm, and Beast aren’t dead. Where Charles is still there to remind him everyday that he matters. Maybe a world where Charles could meet Wade and remind him that he matters too. But “when they fix your world” becomes “if they fix your world”, I imagine in the bitterness of that, Logan starts off repulsed by Wade’s openness to overfill his cup and share what overflows. It’s a slow eventuality, but inevitable nonetheless; Logan learns how to let Wade pour into him. His eyes soften and steady towards Wade as their relationship progresses. When being introduced to Althea, it’s obvious that something inside him has calmed, and the soft nod he gives is the only way Logan knows how to say that actually wants to be there. He’s answered Wade’s call and didn’t walk away. Logan can finally look at Wade with a sureness that he’s not going anywhere.

[GIF by bettercallcohen]

And I think Wade can feel that. Wade is so open because his universe is so small compared to everyone else’s. 9 people. 9 people who make him feel seen, make his heart full, and that make him feel like he belongs somewhere. So when he’s presented with the chance to add #10 to the Polaroid, when someone can actually see him through his vulgarities, through the violence, through his cancerous mutation, it’s more than just surprising when it’s someone like Logan. It’s been a long time since someone’s looked at him like he’s home. No one has looked at him that way since Vanessa. And he probably felt like no one would ever look at him that way ever again. But then here comes Logan, all eyes on him, shredding him to pieces and picking him apart. Wade is the only person he knows in this world, and Wade is the only person in this world that knows him. Logan is forced to confront the idea of being seen and being needed by someone again. Wade comes to him in a crazy, desperate attempt to save the people he loves, and instead he finds one more person to violently stitch into the fabric of his existence.

It’s intense, probably for the both of them, but Wade only knows intensity. Maximum effort. Nothing is off the table, nothing is left behind. Wade’s eyes are as loud as his mouth and bear a burden of their own; a burden of honesty when it comes to conveying his feelings as being one of the only things the Weapon-X experimentation left true and untouched. He sees the truth and they speak the truth. He could see right through Logan from the moment they met. Where Logan could only see a traitor, the Worst Wolverine, Wade saw someone that could teach him how to be a hero. Where Logan could only see himself as the wrong guy for the job, Wade knew this man was the only one capable of saving everyone and everything he loved in this world. He just wasn’t expecting Logan to become part of that world.

Wade is a tractor beam for both the jaded and the gentle, and there is a softness in his eyes that is warm and inviting and penetrating all at the same time. For Wade, it’s not hard to look at Logan and see the tired parts of himself in him. He sees in him the familiar longing for death. He sees a world where he doesn’t have Cable’s time machine to make things right, where Vanessa and Peter are still dead, and he’s blowing out birthday candles alone. Logan is a mirror in his own right; a reflection of not only his failures, but his fears as well. The fear that there may be a day where his luck runs out, and being crazy isn’t enough to save his world.

Crazy is what Wade does best, and the two of them have more than enough instances where “your crazy matches my crazy”. But it’s not hard to see that the way Logan looks at Wade during those moments morphs from a sharpened hostility to a warm familiarity. Though the context of this last scene is Logan fulfilling his duty as a wingman, it is the very second Wade realizes that the other man’s gaze has lost its vitriol and conviction has taken its place. It’s the moment Wade figures out that Logan is serious about wanting to stay, serious about learning how to live in his universe, and serious about his change of heart towards him. It’s a Logan that has accepted his twin flame, and is comforted by the thought that he has someone now that can not only take everything he can give and more, but can bite back just as hard. It’s no secret that Wade holds a space for Logan, but he’s never been concerned with whether or not Logan has done the same. So the moment he’s met with a gaze that is as sure and true as Logan’s is, Wade knows there’s not only room for him to bare all, but now there’s someone that won’t shield their eyes and look away when he does.

#this movie got me fucked up honestly #all i can do is scoop up whatever is left of my brain rot and shove it back into my skull along with them #deadpool x wolverine #poolverine #logan howlett #deadclaws #loganpool #wade wilson #wolverine #deadpool #wolverpool

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lovely-peace · 6 months ago

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Lovely?

Summary: You don't like the marauders. You don't talk and don't even look at them. But as you visit your friend in the hospital wing you encounter a certain boy with brown hair, scars and this lovely eyes.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Gryffindor!reader

Warnings: Low self esteem, past bullying?, This is no bully! Marauders fic!!

Part 1 Part 3

"Hey, do you want to study for Transfiguration together?"

A normal day. It should have been. But ever since I was asked who I would date, I've been hearing giggles and whispers. And now James is standing in front of Amy and me. Ready to finish something. I don't know what yet, but it's going to hurt.

Because it will be a joke of theirs.

"Why should we?" I go straight on the offensive. Leave fears behind and intimidate them.

Sirius, who was standing behind James, looked to the side to stifle a laugh. That kind of upset me.

"Well, in the last lesson you had... We thought we could help each other."

Oh. My mistake. That they laughed about. Learning. Together. Actually, they just want to smile at my stupidity. SMILE.

"Amy doesn't even have Transfiguration." I hissed, looking the boy in front of me in the eye for the first time. He looked almost uncomfortable.

This boy I rode to Hogwarts with in the same wagon. And who now feels too cool to remember my name. I'm just a joke that you crack a few times and then forget.

"Which is why, unfortunately, I have to say goodbye and go upstairs. Important subjects are waiting for me!" Amy tapped my shoulder and I was about to thank her inwardly until- "That's why I'm leaving this sweetie here with you, okay?"

Peter looked up from his book for the first time. He was sitting on the couch by the fire.

In the common room of Gryffindor, it was not uncommon for people to fight over this space. Peter snatched it early enough so that Remus, who looked very ill that morning, just sat on the chair at the table next to it.

Peter was probably just as disappointed that Amy left as I was, if I interpreted his expression correctly.

"Amy," I whispered to her, "what are you doing?"

She raised her eyebrows, rolled her eyes and sighed briefly. And I understood. She wanted me to give them a chance.

I looked at her with begging eyes and screamed at her in my mind not to leave me here alone.

"So...?" James stood there like a boy waiting for his mother's permission.

And I wasn't going to give it to him.

"Sorry, Jarry, but I was planning on studying for other subjects with Amy today. So if you'll excuse us." What did I just say?

"Oo-," James looked to his friends while Sirius laughed out loud, "-okay?"

I didn't look at Amy and just stomped faree upstairs to our room.

Amy followed me, but not without letting out a sigh of disappointment.

"What was that about?" My voice was a little louder than usual. "I thought we agreed that we didn't like the four of them?"

Amy groaned and threw herself on her bed. "I never said that. I meant that they can be assholes sometimes, that's all."

"But they just were assholes?"

I also sat down on my bed and looked out of the window. The Hufflepuff team was playing quidditch.

"How were they assholes in any way, please? James just asked us if we wanted to study with them in the common room."

I could hear Amy starting to get angry.

"You know what he meant. He only asked because I said something completely stupid in Transfiguration the day before yesterday and everyone had a laugh. And now he wanted to hear more of it."

Amy had gone quiet. Then she snorted loudly. "Jesus Christ."

"What?!" As I turned around, two piercing eyes looked into me.

"Can you please stop painting the devil on the wall for once? You sound worse than Cassandra!"

Now I snorted.

But Amy wasn't finished yet. "You're so afraid of being ridiculed that you're becoming an asshole yourself!"

The sun was setting. And the moon slowly rose.

"Why are you so sure that the four of them are making fun of you?"

I hated that tears were welling up in my eyes. "That's how it always is! Suddenly all these people are nice to you, who didn't even know who you were before, to lure you into safety, but in reality they're blaspheming and laughing at you. It's always like that!"

Amy shook her head.

"No, it's just always like that in your head. There's a chance that these people just want to get to know you better."

Amy took her DADA textbook and turned to the other wall. "To exclude this opportunity from the outset is not only a mistake, but also a missed opportunity to make new friends."

I looked up at the full moon. I felt as if he was out there suffering with me.

You understand me, don't you?

Probably not.

The next morning, Amy was still mad at me. I couldn't blame her. What I said already sounded pathetic.

But so far it had always been the truth.

It was unusually quiet at breakfast. Amy ate almost nothing and hurried to her tray.

We had different subjects at the beginning of the day, but at lunch Amy was nowhere to be seen. There were whispers again and I wanted to scream.

And it was only in charms that I was told she had been taken to the hospital wing.

That was not uncommon for Amy. Amy was very fragile. Amy always put on a very strong front, also to help me. But the truth was that stress really affected her and at one point she almost fell over sick.

Was it because of our argument? I don't know. But I certainly felt guilty.

After class, I hurried to the hospital wing and let myself be led to her bed.

She looked almost peaceful as she slept. I carefully sat down next to her and took her hand. She was sweaty and cool at the same time.

Madam Pomfrey explained to me that Amy had been under a lot of stress lately and had eaten something bad. Then she went to the next bed and talked with the visitors there.

Visitors with... familiar voices?!

"Oh, please, you can't expect us to just leave him here alone?" Was that Sirius?

"Yes, I must. You know he needs his rest now. So shoo." Madam Pomfrey sounded a bit annoyed.

"We can stay here quietly!" That was James. Ironically loud.

"No, Mr. Potter, you cannot. So, gentlemen. Out!"

I saw out of the corner of my eye how Madam Pomfrey shooed several people outside. But who was behind the curtain of the bed? Whom were they visiting?

The curtain didn't cover the whole bed. In fact, it was only drawn on my side. Quietly, I got up and tried to get a quick look at the person. I took a cautious step to the side and—

There layed Remus. A pretty battered Remus, wrapped in bandages.

Suddenly, the curtain was pulled back and I stood there as if caught red-handed.

Remus looked at me in surprise. His look was somehow different than usual and I imagined he took a deep breath before he spoke.

"Hi." ... "Hi."

His body was even worse wrapped up than I had seen from the side. He was sitting upright and his upper body was full of bandages. His face also had scratches but his eyes were still so deep-

I stared at him. For far too long.

I quickly sat down next to Amy, who was still asleep.

Remus cleared his throat. "Is Amy very unwell?"

Somehow I wasn't prepared for a conversation with him. Not with one of the four. Not with Remus.

"According to Madam Pomfrey, it's just stress. She just needs to get some rest and then she should feel better." I was almost whispering, my voice was so quiet. Nothing compared to yesterday.

"That's good. I hope she gets better soon. Has anything bad happened?" I looked up at him. His eyes were so gentle, as if he really cared. "Something that's really stressing her out?"

When he noticed my look, he looked away. To my disappointment. "But actually, it's none of my business-"

"We had a fight." Why did I tell him that? "I worried her again."

I looked at Amy. Her face wasn't quite so pale and her hand, which I was holding, wasn't quite so sweaty.

"Oh." Remus' voice was very quiet. As if he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. As if he was worried to say the wrong thing.

"And why are you lying here? What happened to you?" It was only when I looked at him that I realized the question was a bit rude.

"If you want to tell me," I added.

He just sighed and suddenly looked so far away. "It was an accident."

I waited for him to tell me more. He didn't.

It stayed quiet between us for a long time. I could feel his gaze from the side, but somehow it didn't bother me a bit. I almost felt safe.

Suddenly he asked me: "Why did you argue?"

I looked into his eyes and almost wanted to tell him everything. I looked at Amy and borrowed her words. "I was an asshole."

He tilted his head and smiled cautiously. "Somehow I can't imagine that."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"Why?"

"Well, you... It's not like you at all."

I continued to look at him. He continued to look at me.

"What do you mean?"

"You're usually so... Lovely."

Lovely? He saying I was lovely?

I had to laugh. He looked away.

"Me? You don't know me then." I giggled softly. "Besides, anyone can be an asshole, no matter how sweet the person still is."

He looked outside. The moon was up. He had that look again. "Yeah, I guess you're right about that."

It was quiet again after that. I heard soft footsteps outside and my anxiety wanted me to leave. So I stood up and was about to say goodbye to Remus as he-

"I want to know."

"What?"

He suddenly looked into my eyes so intensely that I felt dizzy.

"I want to know you properly."

I didn't know what to say and just looked at him as he continued.

"I want to know what goes through your mind when you see me us."

His gaze moved away from me. "I want to know why you hate us so much."

My whole world suddenly spun and I was in the middle of it. What was he saying? What did he mean, why was he even talking to me? What was going on here, why was he even here? And why did he call me lovely? What did he mean?

I wanted to say something. Something about... What actually?

Somehow I couldn't get anything out of me and was stuck in this spiral of trying to say something and figure out what to say. I opened my mouth, as-

"Remus, we're here!" James' voice tried to sound quiet but was unmistakable. Just like the footsteps of the two boys walking towards his bed.

When I saw them, so many things came back to me. Why I didn't talk to Remus.

"Are you feeling better? Remus -" Sirius faltered when he saw me. He looked between me and Remus and then grinned at me.

"Oh hello."

He turned to James now and 'whispered' to him. "Prongs, let's go and give these two some time to themselves-"

Remus cleared his throat and pointed at Amy who was lying next to me. Sirius fell silent.

"I'd better go now." I said in a very quiet voice again. James and Sirius even left me alone, but I heard their voices before I closed the door behind me.

"So, did she talk to you?" "What was going on with her?" "Is there something-"

The door slammed behind me and my head seemed to explode with questions.

#marauders era #marauders #the marauders #harry potter #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin angst

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deliciousangelfestival · 5 months ago

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The Malicious Daughter Is Back! - 13

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“You look just like Ophelia.” The way he said it sounded like he was missing the past. Then it clicked for you immediately: Patrick was your mom's ex-boyfriend.

Bucky, tinged with curiosity and something else, asked, “So you're that Patrick that Cassandra mentioned?”

You were flabbergasted, your mouth hanging open in surprise. Realizing that the person in front of you was your mother's ex-lover and the Patrick, your grandma often mentioned was overwhelming. It meant Patrick was deeply engraved in her mind.

Patrick smiled warmly at the familiar name. “Nana Cassie? How is she?”

You responded, “She's fine, but she has dementia.”

The word 'dementia' erased the smile from Patrick's face. He put his hand on his lips, murmuring, “A lot has changed since I left.”

Then, realizing his lapse in manners, he looked at everyone. “How rude of me. Please, sit down.”

“I can't help but ask, did you want to meet me because I'm Ophelia's daughter?” you inquired.

Patrick nodded, his eyes reflecting a deep sadness. “I swore I would never come back to this country. But when I saw the new leader of Velari, and you looked so much like her… I had to.”

You sensed the agony and darkness in his voice every time he mentioned your mom. It was more than you'd ever seen in your father, that jerk. Even at Ophelia's funeral, he hadn’t shed a single tear.

“Seems like you miss her,” you said softly.

“I do. All the time,” Patrick replied, his voice heavy with emotion.

You crossed your arms. “If you loved her, why weren't you with her?”

Patrick looked at you in silence for a moment before taking a sip of the tea provided by the butler. He put down the teacup gently, his fingers tracing the rim.

“Twenty-five years ago, I would have laughed if someone told me I’d be enjoying an expensive tea inside a mansion,” Patrick said, his tone wistful.

You tilted your head, clearly puzzled.

Patrick noticed your confusion and explained, “I was dirt poor. I’m the child of the gardener who used to take care of the flowers at your grandparents' house. Your grandparents were kind enough to let me and my dad stay in the guest house.”

Your eyes widened in surprise at this revelation.

“Your grandfather was strict, a man of action rather than words. Your grandma, Cassie, was an angel. And Ophelia…” Patrick paused, looking out the window, lost in memories.

“She was my first friend, my partner, my soul mate, and the love of my life,” Patrick continued, his voice filled with longing.

He went on to describe how his love story with Ophelia began as a close friendship. They were inseparable, but their love couldn't continue because of their different social statuses.

Your grandfather discovered their relationship and objected fiercely. Being a military man, he didn't hesitate to give Patrick a harsh lesson. Patrick was beaten and kicked out of the house, his body weak and bruised—a clear warning for Ophelia to end the relationship.

Around the same time, the Sinclairs proposed an engagement that would benefit the family business, further complicating things.

Patrick’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as he recounted the painful past. You could feel the depth of his sorrow and the love he still harbored for your mother.

When Ophelia and Jonathan first met, it was a meeting between two vastly different people. Jonathan was cold and reserved, a man of few words. Ophelia, on the other hand, was sweet and timid, unable to say no to her father’s demands. Cassandra, Ophelia’s mother, knew the marriage would be colder than Antarctica, but she couldn’t speak against her husband; his word was absolute.

To cope with the situation, Cassandra began designing clothes and eventually started the fashion line, Velari. She and Ophelia found solace in creating garments, and the small tailor shop they opened became their sanctuary.

Ophelia and Jonathan got married and started a family after you were born. Your existence brought light to Ophelia's life. But one day, Patrick reappeared, determined to rescue Ophelia from her loveless marriage. When your grandfather and Jonathan discovered Patrick’s intentions, they responded violently, nearly killing him.

This incident shattered the already fragile relationship between Ophelia and Jonathan. The marriage became irreparably broken, but Ophelia managed to endure it, thanks to you, Cassandra, and Velari. However, the ultimate betrayal came when she discovered Jonathan’s affair with his secretary, Genevieve, and learned he had a daughter three years younger than you.

This heartbreak, disappointment, and regret devastated Ophelia. She had sacrificed her love for Patrick for a marriage that gave her nothing but pain. If she had fought harder, she could have been with the man who truly loved her.

Ophelia’s death crushed Cassandra with guilt. She blamed herself for not saving her daughter. If she had stood up to her husband and been content with their life, Ophelia might still be alive, happily married to Patrick, who would have been a loving husband and father.

Your grandfather, burdened by his daughter’s death and his wife’s subsequent loss of joy, began to blame himself. The ultimate betrayal came when he discovered that the Sinclairs, his in-laws, had tried to sabotage his business. Jonathan’s actions cost Ophelia her life and nearly destroyed the family business, leading to your grandfather’s heart attack and leaving this world.

After being beaten, Patrick started from the bottom, working tirelessly to earn money. When he finally succeeded, he was devastated to learn that Ophelia had passed away. With nothing left for him in the country, he left for Europe, where he met Rowan Barnes at a business conference, and the two became friends.

When Rowan mentioned that Bucky was getting engaged to the daughter of Sinclair, Patrick immediately warned him not to fully trust them. Recently, Rowan told him that Bucky had canceled the engagement and had become close to another daughter of Sinclair.

Patrick sighed and asked, “What’s the difference between this one and the other?”

Rowan replied, “This is the legitimate daughter who was kicked out by Jonathan.”

The word ‘kicked out’ resonated with Patrick, who had been expelled many times in his youth. He wondered if this first daughter could be Ophelia’s child. But why didn’t she live with her father?

He had so many questions and started asking around. What he discovered broke him and made his blood boil. Though he shared no blood with you, he knew you were Ophelia’s treasure. She had always wanted a daughter.

Patrick looked at you with sorrow and warmth, wondering if he and Ophelia had run away together and married, would they have had a daughter who looked like you?

“I arrived too late. But if you let me, I’ll be the biggest support you could ever ask for,” Patrick said, his voice filled with earnestness.

When he said that, Rowan raised an eyebrow, wondering if you knew who Patrick was. He was one of the most sought-after clients in the investment world, with assets that made investment managers fight to have him as a client.

Patrick’s face lit up when he heard your gratitude. “Thank you.”

You offered, “Do you want to see my grandma? I’m sure she will be happy to meet you.”

Patrick’s eyes softened, and a nostalgic smile spread across his face. “That would be great. I miss her.”

The room was filled with a mixture of relief and anticipation as Patrick’s offer hung in the air, a promise of support and a connection to the past.

Bucky, who had been standing quietly beside you, felt a surge of protectiveness. He didn’t like how Patrick looked at you for too long, feeling jealous. He took your hand in his, his grip firm but gentle, as if to remind Patrick that you weren’t alone.

Patrick noticed this and chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with understanding. “It seems you have a good protector here,” he said, nodding toward Bucky.

You squeezed Bucky’s hand, grateful for his presence. “Yes, I do.”

☎️☎️☎️☎️☎️

After the meeting with Patrick, you learned so many things about your mother that you had never heard from your father. It seemed like she didn’t exist in his mind anymore.

When you got home, you felt like your life had become so much better after meeting Bucky, even though you hadn’t been polite toward him initially. Life works in mysterious ways.

‘Ring.’

You saw the caller ID and rolled your eyes when you realized it was Jonathan.

“What?” you snapped.

“Is this how you address your dad?” Jonathan's voice dripped with disapproval.

You gritted your teeth. The audacity of this man who neglected you and still wanted you to address him politely. “Your majesty, what honor do I have to receive a call from heaven?” you retorted sarcastically.

You could hear his voice grumble on the other end. “I heard you met someone today.”

He meant that someone must be Patrick. “I met so many people today. I also almost got kidnapped. Did you know that?” you shot back, your voice tinged with annoyance.

“Kidnapped? I guess you’re safe because you can answer your phone,” Jonathan replied dismissively.

You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and anger. “What do you want? I have to bury my abductor in the backyard.”

“Stay away from him,” Jonathan ordered.

You flinched. Why did he say that? Then it clicked. Was your father jealous?

“He’s a great person. I understand why my mother loved him so much,” you said, pushing his buttons.

Your tease hit the mark. “I’m your father. Not him! Remember that!” Jonathan's voice was filled with fury.

The call ended abruptly. You stared at your phone, shaking your head. Sometimes you wondered if you and he were really related.

The apple does fall far from the tree, you thought. Especially with you and Jonathan.

That's what people would think. If one day they heard that you weren’t Jonathan’s natural daughter, they would believe it.

But no. Even if you wished Jonathan wasn’t your father, DNA said otherwise. He was your father. It was the hardest pill you had to swallow every day.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

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Only if you feel like it!

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arcane-ish · 10 days ago

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I'm low key intrigued by this shot in the trailer:

That's the Vander statue, right? I almost didn't recognize it, by how stern and general like it looks. In s1, the Vander statue always felt kind of warm and protective and affectionate. It's obviously a place of solace for Silco and it's full of doodles by Ekko's people and little things the Zaunites left on it.

Here, he looks like a british admiral on his fleet ship or something.

I probably expect way too much but I'd love the idea of Sevika being the one who knows the truth about the original revolution attempt and who is maybe aware of the difference between the narrative and the reality and decides to intentionally keep mum about it to preserve the revolution. I could picture her keeping quiet about how dangerous it was because she just wants the revolution to happen, or even throw Silco under the bus and conceal Vander's flaws because she sees people want to rally behind his positive image, or she could do the opposite, amp up stories about Vander and the revolution and conceal that he wanted to call it off.

I can't help but think that the statue looking so different to Sevika might symbolize how she saw him. That from her perspective he was a lot meaner or colder. Or that the way she looks up represents the mixed feelings she has towards him. To that he looms large that the big shoes that have to be filled just like Cait talked about filling Cassandra's shoes.

I wonder if this shot symbolizes (again with looking up) Vi being unsure whether she should join the revolution. Since we know that Vi will at some point be saving enforcers again, I suspect an original revolution attempt will fail in some way.

I could picture it like this, Sevika lies about how much Vander was in favor of the revolution. Vi is torn when she sees the melding of Jinx and Vander, because if Vander is on it, it must be good right? And then she finds out what really happened and she's no longer keen on the revolution.

(that said, I think it should be distinguished between whether Zaun defends on its own turf or attacks topside. We know somebody is attacking Singed at some point (only to get eaten by Warwick I presume), though that could easily be chem barons wanting access to shimmer, we also have shots that suggest more bridge level confrontations, but we don't know if these are current shots or from the past, we have Ekko and firelights flying in on Piltover but that doesn't necessarily feel hostile)

There we'll probably have this whole aspect of the Pilties will probably find out that the medicine (Noxians) is worse than the disease (Zaunites) and we have this whole other secret, Cait likely has to figure out at some point that Ambessa organized the Memorial Attack.

(I could picture Vi finding out and if she thinks the revolution is going bad rush to Cait to call off the attack on Zaun till she figures out the Noxian involvement. Or reverse, I could picture Cait finding out and rushing to Vi and asking her to help against the Noxians)

Sidenote: I don't really have super high hopes for getting young!Silco and Vander flashbacks, but in my perfect world the whole "the tale about the revolution is different from what it was actually like" thing would have Sevika giving this rousing speech about how the ones before them were these heroic and disciplined revolutionaries intercut with flashbacks of Vander and Silco getting drunk and goofing off at the Last Drop.

#arcane #arcane spoilers #arcane speculation #vander #sevika #silco #zaundads

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leoserblog · 1 year ago

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Ok this might be an unpopular opinion but someones gotta say it...

Cassandra is a better Casey Jones than Casey Jr

Ive gotta be honest... i think casey jr is a kinda mid and i dont particularly think all the fanfare about him is warranted LOL

I want to note real quick that i dont DISLIKE him! He is a good character who only got as much development that a 2 hour movie could give him, and he filled and satisfied the role he needed to play in the movie, but the way the fandom latched onto him over the og casey... kinda makes me raise a brow

(Essay/rant about the prioritization of casey jr vs og casey under the cut :P)

Fandom spaces love a traumatized boy from the future, and believe me i do too! But the amount of attention given to casey jr after being revealed as casey is a wild amount compared to the amount of attention the original casey gets. Maybe its just me getting into rottmnt after the movie aired, but this seems a little baised?

Not only that, but the amount of... idk the best way i can think to describe it is infantilization of casey jrs character isnt helping my opinion of him. It feels like most content surrounding him babify him and reduce him only to his trauma post movie. I understand that it can be interesting to explore his trauma now that he no longer lives in the literal apocalypse, but it feels strange to see him reduced to someone who cant get around on his own and lives with the turtles when the original pitch for the movies ending has him leave to explore the world, which i feel is very appropriate for him and wish they had kept it in

In the movie when april shows us where the og casey has been and what shes been doing throughout the film, it tells us that casey is friends april which in theory, shouldve also shown us that she and the turtles are friends to some degree as well and should already have her place established within the group as this generations casey jones

However the final shot of the movie is a group shot of the family+casey jr, which subtlety implies that he's the new casey instead, and that this is the main cast moving forward (should it move forward *sob*). While both caseys being considered in the main cast could be true, it does strike me as a little odd that this was the final direction the rot team decided on for the official ending versus the scrapped ending, especially because it complicates the pre-established canon. It wouldve been one thing if our og casey was a different character, but that isnt the case.. y... (<_<)

Casey jr is an interesting character though! And i can understand why he appeals to fans, especially as his character post movie is fun to expand on aswell as developing his past involved with future versions of the main5, but one (me lol) could argue that the og casey is just as interesting of a character to delve into as she was involved, when you boil it down, a cult most of her life, and that concept, as well as the guilt she could hold for working with the foot and releasing the shredder, ontop of trying to befriend and gain the turtles and aprils trust are also intriguing concepts that could be explored, yet finding content that mentions her at all beyond her relation to casey jr is scarce

It feels as though shes been reduced to a background character within the fandom despite being a reoccuring character for the entire show.

For the two seasons of rottmnt that we did get, we are shown just what kind of character casey is and her possible dynamics with the turtles+april. Shes passionate and powerful and beyond determined to prove her worth and reach her goals. Shes also playful and reckless, a side that fits well with the main cast and their humor and, if the show was given more time, couldve developed naturally as the newest addition to the family as most caseys are. I could also argue that her characterization fits that of previous caseys more than casey jrs does (though i will admit that considering the plot of the movie, i cant positively say what hed be like outside of life or death scenarios, but i also cant imagine hes going to make a 180 in personality without it feeling jarring and ooc)

Now, i wont ignore the fact that her arc was cut horribly short and her involvement in the movie was quite literally a brief mention, both of which definitely play into how under appreciated she is. But at the same time it almost feels like everyone, including the show runners, have willingly pushed her aside for this new boy version to fill the role of casey jones. Hell, even when you look up rottmnt casey jones, cassandra barely shows up. Its casey jr which further proves my point

Idk, TLDR im pretty disappointed that despite being a consistent character for the entire show, no one seems to write or acknowledge her and if she is mentioned, its only relevant to push forward casey jrs character development or a brief cameo. As much as i do love casey jr (i can feel like hes mid and i can like him!) it seems like most people forget about the original casey, or favor casey jr in her place and she deserves more love and credit than shes given!

#rottmnt casey jones #rottmnt cassandra jones #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #leoserpost #sorry to get so passionate about her #shes my little meow meow you see #now OBVIOUSLY some people write about her and casey jr #and they do it well #and im well aware of the rushing of the show along with the strange gap btwn it and the movie #but i still feel its important to mention because shes so cool!!!!!#and the best!!!!!#and i love her very much!!!!!#(also i didnt get into how fandom prioritize male characters over female ones and how that also likely plays a role in her being overlooked #(but i didnt feel like starting an argument w ppl who refuse to examine their own internalized misogyny so :P #we'll leave it at this)#plz appreciate her!!!!!!!#she deserves so much more!!!!#i want in depth fics about her life post shredder!!!!!#*if u want it sm go make it urself* i hear some say #and listen bud #<<#im thinking about it so hard in my brain #maybe i will!#😤#ddjsjka ok im done #this is all very much my opinion #and maybe theres cassandra circles im missing out on #but this is also what ive observed #at the end of the day these are just silly cartoon characters and i just happen to feel strongly about this one!!

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katerinaaqu · 1 month ago

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May I ask what's wrong with changing modern adaptations of ancient stories to fit the morality of today? The way I see it, it's hard to connect with the characters portrayed when every second one is a rapist of some kind.

Stories adhering as much as they can will never be as popular or appreciated as ones modified to be engaging to the audience they have now.

Stories are meant to entertain, and the audience they were originally made for is dead. What the audience finds entertaining changes in decades. Does it not make sense to adapt them to that?

You answered your question yourself. By placing modern day morality and fitting it to ancient stories we just twist the original stories and their meaning and we create a false idea of the past to make it sound as if that place was consisted of people who were terrible they had no Morals at all and nowadays we are the great moral people that know what's up.

You said it yourself: "when every second one was a rapist of some kind". That is just false assumption on both the characters and the past. In fact rape was severely punished. Even in the Epic Cycle when Locrian Ajax raped Cassandra the soldiers were trying to stone him to death and he had to take refuge to a sanctuary. Him being a noble didn't matter before such an immoral act. Rape was not casual as "modern morality readings" think. There is a big risk of misunderstanding when we project our morality in ancient stories which were not always THAT far away from us at some things.

At another case I have heard people speak of "gay ancient greece" when the concept of "gay" didn't even exist and not only that homosexiality had a much more complicated meaning in antiquity than we think now and no it was not a bunch of people kissing their partners in public as many people do in 21st century. Again there is a danger to misunderstand stuff and they do get misunderstood

Modern day morality changes by experience of mine never realize the harm they do to the narrative and character development (for example Odysseus giving out his name to Polyphemus has nothing to do with modern narrative saying "oh he was stupid" there is an entire analysis behind it which just harms the character and his development by bluntly say that without taking the background in consideration)

Changing stuff to ellegedly "fit modern narrative" is inheritently dangerous because it contains personal biases on what morality is in the first place and it is harmful often because these stories are far from just entertainment; they are witness of the past and a past culture and by changing them according to the bias of one person on modern morality consequently leads to the misinterpretation of the past. And in the end of the day ancient stories are still entertaining today. Look at the festivals in Greece where we play ancient theater as it was written. We have only changed the concept of the full face mask. So allow me to disagree and say the ancient stories still entertain today and the admirers of them are not dead at all.

I am not saying it is wrong in every shape or form in fact as I said million times already it is even expected to add some elements from each culture or era to appease the public. The problem begins when that story is exclusively looked through that keyhole and then we have the bias of one person on the text shaping the past and have a story that simply doesn't work and many people even those with no knowledge in the past realize there is something wrong with the picture. See how many people who love the Iliad and the Odyssey criticized Miller for adding too much of her modern morality in her books. Even people who are not experts realized the story was damaged despite her beautiful weiting etc

#katerinaaqu answers #on morality #modern vs ancient morality

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lostinthewiind · 5 months ago

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Way With Words

Varric Tethras - Dragon Age

Genre: Fluff

Rating: All ages

➤ True to his nature as a renowned author, Varric has always been better at expressing himself through the art of written words.

The sound of Varric's quill scratching against parchment sent a chill up your spine—one that scratched a particular itch you didn't even know you had. Perched in his usual spot at the wooden table in front of the fireplace, you sat across from him, watching intently as he frantically worked to get everything down before he forgot even a single, minute detail.

"You don't have to release the book tomorrow, you know," you told him. "Take a couple of days to enjoy the fact that we saved Thedas. Surely that's deserving of a night or two off."

You could tell that Varric had only slightly registered what you had said, his quill faltering for a brief moment before continuing to whip from left to right across the page. Again and again. Flip the page. Left to right. Again and again. New page.

The fireplace crackling behind you lit up his face, basking his features in a warm, orange glow. In this light, you could see clearly as the wrinkles of his forehead deepened; and if you watched his facial expressions closely enough, you could tell which ones were permanent from age and which ones were temporary from stress.

When a pocket of gas escaped one of the burning logs with a loud pop, Varric's eyes shifted up from his work. In that moment, as his eyes darted toward the fire behind you before focusing on your face, you clocked the exhaustion he was trying so desperately to hide—or ignore. His gaze caught yours just long enough for you to notice the dull hue of his usual bright, brown irises.

He flashed a superficial smile before returning to his work. Word after word, he recounted the tale of the Inquisition from the moment he met you to the moment Corypheus was finally defeated.

"Varric." You reached across the table and caught his hand in yours. You felt as the tight muscles in his grip loosened. "Take a break."

Varric's hand twitched in your hold. "I can't. I don't want to forget anything important."

"That makes one of us." You exhaled slowly. "There's so much I wish I could forget. So much I have forgotten."

"Someone has to tell the story. Might as well be me." He smiled again, but this time it seemed more genuine. "Besides, no one else will give it the right amount of flair."

"I would expect nothing less from the legendary author of Swords and Shields." You chuckled. "I'm sure Cassandra is chomping at the bit to read about all the behind the scenes romances of the Inquisition you no doubt have all the insider information on."

That caused Varric to laugh, and finally, the rest of his body relaxed. Quill dropping onto the page, the sentence Varric had been in the middle of writing was left temporarily forgotten; the retelling of a past story was put aside for the making of a new one.

"I really don't know why she likes that garbage, but hey, I suppose there's an audience for everything."

"You're too hard on yourself. It's not that bad."

Varric quirked a brow at you. "Don't tell me you've read them?"

"I've read a few chapters."

Varric hummed, amused. "And?"

"I can see the appeal."

A bark of a laugh. "I never took you as a romantic, Inquisitor."

"I'm full of surprises."

"So I've come to learn."

Suddenly eager to get a sneak peak at you favourite author's newest work, you reached out and grabbed one of the first pages Varric had written. The ink was already dry, the scribbled words a duller shade of black than the newer pages.

Varric didn't protest. Instead, he watched intently as your eyes scanned the page. "Let me know if I missed anything."

"There's details in here that I don't even recall happening," you assured him. "But it's kind of bland. For a romance author, this isn't very flowery. Where's that so-called 'flair'?"

"Such a critic." Varric tried to snatch the paper away, but your sharp reflexes won. "This is just the first draft. Only the facts. The flair comes later."

"Thank goodness, because if this is how you end up describing me in the final copy, I'll hunt you down." You cleared your throat before reciting the words in front of you. "'Inquisitor. Small woman. Prisoner turned ally. Glowing hand.'"

Varric shook his head. "Like I said. The facts."

"Nothing about my bright eyes? My charming smile? Not even a throwaway line about how incredibly beautiful I am?" you joked as you relinquished the page so Varric could put it back in order with the others.

"This isn't that kind of book, Inquisitor."

You leaned back and felt the warmth of the fire on the nape of your neck. "Of course." You smirked. "But if it were, how would you describe me?"

Varric pretended he didn't hear you and instead went back to his writing. His pace was noticeably slower now though, more thoughtful. Something else was on his mind and he was having to think more about what he was jotting down instead of just letting it flow.

"I was a newborn in this world—a world I had lived in all my life, yet somehow I didn't recognize any of it. I stepped out of the fade, my memory lost and a glowing hand gained." You closed your eyes and described the series of events from your point of view. "I had just closed my first fade rift. I was overcome with fear and excitement, a slurry of emotions that had no business mixing. When the possibility of being able to close the breach was mentioned, he spoke. 'Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever.' A man. A dwarf. Handsome, and I could tell he knew it from the way he showed off his abundance of chest hair for any and all to see. But my eyes were drawn first to his crossbow, the weapon he had used to save my life moments earlier; the weapon he would use to save my life more times than I could count."

When you opened your eyes, Varric was staring at you, eyes wide. Speechless.

"It doesn't have to be a romance for it to be romantic," you told him. "Life and death is just as beautiful as any love story."

Still silent, he swallowed hard. Then, grabbing a fresh piece of parchment, he began to write; this time with all the fervor he had possessed originally. Arm resting at the top of the paper, he shielded the words from your eyes.

Head resting in your hand, you sat and watched as he wrote. When he reached the bottom of the page, he stopped and handed it over. "Like any author, I'm better in the written format," he said.

You nodded and began to read.

"No," he corrected. "Out loud. Read it out loud."

"Okay," you chuckled. "'All hope had been lost and then she appeared, stepping out of the fade with determination etched into her features and bright eyes that held the future in them—the world's future ... my future. From prisoner to ally to friend, the more I learned about her, the fonder I grew.'"

You paused and looked up at Varric. He nodded his encouragement. "Keep going."

Your throat suddenly felt dry and your chest tight. "'She was beautiful. She still is beautiful. But she's also so much more than that.'" You were reading slower now, your breath catching on the words. As Varric reached out to take one of your hands in his, your grip on the paper with your other hand tightened. "'Anyone who knows the Inquisitor could tell you that she is smart, brave, kind, compassionate, and so many more wonderful qualities. But not everyone could tell you about the way her smile always reaches her eyes, no matter how exhausted she is, or the way she sleeps so lightly that the faintest gust of wind could wake her. Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one who gets to see the way she curls her hair around her finger when she's feeling playful. Then I pray I'm the only person who gets to see it, because the thought of anyone else making her feel that way causes a sickening feeling to snake its way through my veins. She is-'"

"She is the most incredible person I've ever met in my entire life," Varric took over, having memorized the words after somehow only writing them once. You suspected, however, that they had been within him for a long time. As his hand held yours firmly and the pad of his thumb ghosted over the inside of your wrist, you shivered. "And as things come to an end and time runs out, I think of the past and dread the future because for all of the brave things I've done by her side, I don't know if I'll ever be brave enough to tell her I love her."

You felt a tear fall down your cheek and moved to quickly wipe it away. "If you're that good with words, maybe I should read more of your books."

Varric smiled as he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckles. "For you, I'd write down my every waking thought."

"You don't have to." You folded up that paper in your hand and tucked it into your pocket. "This is more than enough."

Varric let out a nervous chuckle. "You're killing me here, love. I gotta know if you feel the same way. Please, put an old man's aching heart to rest."

Standing up, you leaned across the wooden table and cupped his stubbled jaw in your hand and felt his entire being soften to your touch. "Of course, I love you too." You gently pressed your lips against his. With a relieved exhale, he melted into the kiss.

When you moved to pull away, his hand shot up to the back of your head and held you in place, lips ghosting over his, so he could savour the moment. "Just so you know, I'm not putting any of this in my book," he whispered. "I'd like to be the only person to know that you smelt like smoke and tasted like elfroot tea the first time we kissed."

"Cassandra will be so disappointed."

"Me? Disappointing the Seeker? That's never happened before." He grinned as his hand slid down from the back of your head to caress your cheek. "Now come here. I'm suddenly craving the taste of elfroot."

#lostinthewiind #fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #varric tethras #dragon age varric #varric #varric x reader #one shot #da4 #dragon age the veilguard

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writing-until-i-drop · 20 days ago

Text

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 19

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Jake's hiding something and everyone thinks it's a bad idea

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

Jake had been acting a little bit weird but I figured it was just the thought of spending Christmas without his family, especially since Pop’s surgery was being delayed. I did my best to be silently supportive, spending all the time I could with him. Jason, my agent, had called and said my latest book had been greenlit and the publishing house was looking to have me do a book tour for the release in a year. Jake was excited for me but not excited about the fact I’d be gone for at least two months. But Jason hadn’t just called to give me the good news, no, he had called to see if I had started writing the sequel yet.

“Cassandra’s getting a love interest?” Jake stage whispered in my ear, I was between his legs on the bed, my back to his chest while I wrote.

“How do you figure?” I leaned back against his chest, relaxing into him. Jake kissed my neck,

“Detective Monroe, he obviously has a thing for Cass,” He pointed at the screen. “He brings her coffee, checks on her after the killer got away, he obviously cares about her.” Huh. He had a point. Detective Monroe was Cassandra’s partner, he had her back and was probably the one person in her life that Cassandra could call a friend.

“And what makes you think he’s more than just a friend?” I prompted him, wondering what he could see that I couldn’t.

“The way he looks at her and knows what she’s thinking, he pays more attention to her than he should.” It was kind of hot hearing Jake get so riled up about my writing. He had been reading it over my shoulder for the past week, offering his observations and comments, and telling me when I needed to close the laptop and go to bed because I had typed “and” three times in a row while dozing off. “Baby, he’s in love with her.”

“Isn’t that for me to decide?” I giggled, closing the laptop. Jake huffed,

“Don’t you always say that the characters do what they want?” Again, he had a point. “Whether you like it or not, I think Monroe’s got a crush on his partner.”

“We’ll see what happens,” I put the laptop on the nightstand, turning so that I was face first in his chest. “How much time do we have until we have to be at Mav’s?” Mav was hosting a team get together at his and Penny’s house and the daggers had insisted that you were included on the guest list, Fanboy had threatened to give you your own embarrassing callsign if you didn’t show up.

“About an hour, we have a little time, what do you want to do?” He kissed my neck again, massaging my hips with his hands. I hummed, thinking about it. We could do a lot in an hour but we also had to spend time with the whole team for the rest of the evening. I could already feel the exhaustion setting in, I loved the daggers, I did, but that didn’t mean they were exempt from draining my social battery.

“I want…” I reached around blindly for the blanket. Jake chuckled, pulling the blanket over my shoulders, “I want to cuddle until it’s time to get ready and when we do have to get dressed, I want you to tell me it’s okay to wear sleep pants to the party.”

“I think I can do that, Wildflower,” Jake wrapped his arms around me and I buried my face in his neck. It briefly crossed my mind that I might be a little bit heavy on his chest but that thought quickly faded away as Jake began to hum a song, lulling me to sleep.

“Matching pajamas, really?” Rooster rolled his eyes, bringing me in for a hug.

“I think my girl’s onto something, they’re way comfier than jeans,” Jake announced to the room, pulling you out of Rooster’s arms and into his side, arm draped over your shoulder.

“Dee!” Amelia came around the corner, stealing me away from Jake, her arm looped through mine. “I need advice,” She whispered, “From someone who’s not my mom.”

“Is this a boy thing?” I whispered back and she nodded, pulling me into the hallway, away from everyone. “I’m not sure I’m the best at relationship advice but I’ll do my best.” Amelia rolled her eyes,

“There’s this guy named Charlie in my math class and he’s super cute.”

“Like, really cute?” Amelia’s whole face lit up and it warmed my heart. I could see my nieces growing up to be just like her someday, calling me to tell me about their crushes, making me swear up and down not to tell their dad.

“Winter formal is coming up and there’s a tradition that girls ask the guys out,” She was so nervous it was adorable. “I mean, we’re kind of friends, we text but it’s mostly about homework and I don’t know if it’s weird if I ask him to the dance or not.”

“You said mostly about homework, what else do you talk about?” Her cheeks went pink and she started playing with her hair.

“I mean, we both watch the same show so sometimes we text each other when the new episode airs and talk about what happened.” They were too cute, oh my goodness.

“Then I think it’s a good idea, maybe you can make him a sign or a note with an inside joke or reference to the show?” Amelia perked up,

“That’s perfect! I’m going to go work on that, thanks, Dee!” Amelia gave me a tight hug before running off towards the stairs, giggling the whole way up. I chuckled, making my way to the kitchen to get a drink when I heard Jake and Rooster whispering.

“Have you told her yet?” Rooster asked and I stopped just beyond the doorway, heart thudding in my chest.

“Not yet,” There was a smack, probably Rooster hitting Jake in the chest. “I don’t want to say anything until we know for sure. She’ll cry, hell, I’ll probably cry, and no one wants that.”

“You’ve got to tell her, the more time she has to prepare, the better. Daisy is an overthinker, you’ll need time to talk her off the ledge.” This was the moment in a movie where everyone is yelling at the screen, telling the main character to stick around and hear the rest of the conversation, and for the first time I understood why they never did. I quietly backed away from the doorway and down the hall, heart feeling like it was going to beat right out of my chest.

What did Jake have to tell me? And why did Rooster think he was going to have to talk me off a ledge once I found out?

“There you are,” Penny peaked down the hall, smiling. “Amelia find you okay?”

“Yeah,” I answered softly, clearing my throat, my voice evening out when I responded the second time. “Yeah, I was just about to rejoin the party.”

“Perfect, let’s get you a drink then.”

Daisy was a little tense, her smile not quite reaching her eyes throughout the night. When I pulled her aside she assured me that we’d talk about it later and to enjoy the party but it was hard to do so when she was sitting on Phoenix’s lap, her head on her shoulder, instead of tucked into my side.

Maverick pulled me aside when I went to grab a fresh beer, a santa hat on his head.

“I’m guessing you haven’t talked to Daisy yet?” I groaned, first Bradshaw and now Mav.

“How do you know?”

“Because Penny hasn’t gotten any panicked texts yet and she’s been waiting for them for two days.” I ran a hand over my face, leaning against the counter. Two days. I had been wrestling with the whispers around base and what to tell Daisy. The guys were right, I needed to tell her, but I also didn’t want to burst the happy bubble we had been in since getting back from Texas.

“Is it so wrong of me not to say anything until we’re certain?”

“It’s not a bad idea but when she finds out you’ve been holding onto this for a few days, how do you think that’s going to go?”

“You’ve got a good point, Mav.” He patted my shoulder, passing me to get a new beer,

“Tell her soon, Hangman, that’s an order.”

Taglist: @dizzybee03 @littlezee80 @nervousenemyduck @carolina-on-my-mind03 @mizzzpink @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @hookslove1592 @closetspngirl @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @closetspngirl @shanimallina87 @owenniasstars @cevansbaby-dove @caitsymichelle13 @bigstrongblackheart @mrsevans90

Next Chapter

#bet writes #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #jake seresin #fanfic #jake seresin x oc #wildflowers for a hangman fic

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thezombieprostitute · 11 days ago

Text

Tech Tuesday: Curtis Everett

Summary: Curtis decides to take the next step and ask if you're willing to meet offline.

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used.

Warnings: Meeting someone from online, Mentions of past bad experiences. Please let me know if I missed any.

Series Masterlist

"So, what all has been going on with your computer? Did you bring it with you?" Curtis tries to keep his tone calm. He's been eager to meet you in person for months but has worked hard to make sure you feel safe to do so and that means not pushing you into it. He tries to keep his excited fidgeting to a minimum but he's worried it just makes him look even more suspicious. He's so used to keeping his features schooled into a scowl, but that's the last thing he wants to do to you.

"Basically it'll go for a while but then start freezing, stuttering and I have to force it to shut down before I can do anything else," you answer while sipping your coffee. You can't believe his eyes are as blue as the photo he sent. "I tried to see if it was because I was running some heavy duty games and maybe I was using too much RAM. I cleaned up so many programs, uninstalled a bunch of games I don't play anymore, but it just keeps happening."

Curtis rubs his beard as he thinks. "It might be a hardware issue. It's not my strong suit, but I can still take a look. At the very least I can ask my buddy, Mace, for help. He's a whiz with the hardware and could probably get you a good deal if any upgrades are needed."

"Oh yeah, you've talked about him before," you reassure yourself. Having him mention another stranger worried you but Mace has been brought up several times before, especially when Curtis mentioned getting upgraded tech.

"You definitely don't have to meet him," Curtis affirms. "He can be a real grump. And coming from me, that's saying something." He gives a light chuckle as he sips his coffee.

"Snow, I work at a hospital," you counter. "Ain't no kind of grump I haven't had to deal with before." You give Curtis a look that says 'I'm stronger than you'.

Curtis smiles fully, "absolutely fair, Heart." He struggles a little bit to not turn shy. That look, that strength, that self-assured smile has him weak in the knees. "Still," he coughs, trying to regain control of himself. "Still, uh, when...did you bring the computer with you? Would this be an okay time to take a look at it?"

"Friend of mine at the library is keeping an eye on it for me." Best to let him know you've got allies nearby. He hasn't really given anything to make you worry about, but his reactions to your safety protocols could be telling. Of course, if you were expecting him to look scared or upset at this news, Curtis happily defied those expectations as his eyes lit up.

"Oh, that's really smart! We can borrow one of their laptops to run some tests. That way my laptop's settings won't mess with your computer."

You smile, genuinely, for the first time all day. Curtis is very different and you couldn't be happier about it.

"Don't you need your diagnostic software?"

"If it's called for, sure. The basic versions are free to download and they'll help me pick up if it's actually a software issue. Plus, the libraries regularly wipe downloads after use, right?"

"Okay, everything's plugged in so let's get this running and see what happens."

After looking over the hardware Curtis had found no obvious reasons for the failure so you had gone to your friend and loaned out one of the laptops. Curtis's computer bag had an impressive collection of tools, wires and connectors. You always appreciate when a person is prepared.

He works in relative silence and it gives you the chance to really look at him. He's definitely handsome, as Cassandra pointed out when she loaned you laptop. You weren't normally one for lip piercings but it seemed to work well on him, even though it was partially hidden by his beard.

The quiet between you two isn't so uncomfortable. It's how you spent a lot of time when you started gaming together. Talking over comms almost always resulted in a bunch of idiots either hitting on you, calling you a 'fake gamer,' lobbing insults at you, or all three at the same time. Snowpiercer was one of the few gamers who didn't care that you were a girl gamer. For him it was about how well you worked together. Given that the two of you could get high scores without having to talk over comms, it was no wonder the two of you started playing together more and more.

Even after you'd started voice chatting while playing, there was always a level of respect. Something you hadn't gotten from Chase.

Curtis gets out of the chair and gets a closer look at each of the fans, stopping at the one closest to the heat sink. "There it is," he intones. "This fan is dying. It's easy to miss because, by the time you know something's wrong, the whole computer's shut down and all the fans are stopped."

"Well, at least it's an easy fix," you comment. "Thanks for taking a look at it."

"Not a problem at all," he assures. "I'm happy to help."

You smile, "are you always this nice?"

"No," he shakes his head. "Definitely not. I'm not an ass, but I'm definitely not this nice to everyone."

"I'm honored."

He chuckles at that. "Like I said, I'm happy to help you out. You're the best teammate I've ever had and it just isn't as fun paying without you."

"I appreciate that, Curtis. So, what do I owe you?"

"Nothing."

"Don't do that to me, Snow. You know how I feel about owing people." It was a wound from Chase that had yet to heal. His use of favors as manipulation made you wary of anyone who said you don't owe anything.

Curtis sighs and nods. "Tell you what, there are some pastries at that coffee shop we were at that I avoided because I didn't want you to see me covered in crumbs. Wouldn't make for a good first impression." You smile at the thought. "Just get me a couple of those while I shut everything down here and return the laptop?"

"Deal." You stand to get moving but turn to him before you leave, "and thank you, again. Not just for the computer fix, but for...for respecting the boundaries."

He looks at you with those gorgeous blue eyes, "not a problem."

Series Masterlist

Tagging @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory;

@late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82 ; @peyton-warren @ronearoundblindly; @stellar-solar-flare

#tech tuesday #tech tuesday: curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x nurse!reader #curtis everett x female!reader

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andrastie · 19 days ago

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So I'm about halfway (maybe a bit less) through Veilguard and am loving the game!

My biggest issue, however, is the lack of choices that carried through from Inquisition and the previous two game. I feel like Dragon Age Keep made the games more personalized based on the choices you made in the previous games.

For example, I was screaming when we got the little cameo of King Alistair in Inquisiton and the mention of my Coulsand Warden as the Queen of Fereldan.

Here are some things I wish had been included in the new game based on decisions made in my canon Inquisiton run (very very mild spoilers):

Divine Victoria mention - based on who we supported to be the new Divine in Inquisiton. I supported Leliana. When Harding is talking about the Inquisiton advisors and Leliana comes up, I would have loved a line about how she's settled in to her new position as Divine Victoria.

Codex entry about the Orlesian civil war - I read a codex entry in Veilguard about Empress Celene and I'm pretty sure one of the companions mentions her (I can't think of who). I chose to sacrifice Celene and put Gaspard on the throne with Briala pulling his strings. Maybe the codex could mention her assassination or another could talk about whether or not Briala still holds the power behind the Orlaisian throne.

Stroud - where the fuck is Stroud?? I sacrificed Hawke so that the Grey Wardens had a senior Warden with a brain that could step up and lead them. Yet their new Warden Commander still has no brain. Where is Stroud???

Hawke mention - an acknowledgement of whether or not we left Hawke in the Fade (I did). Maybe a comment or codex entry from Varric wondering if Hawke is still somewhere in the Fade, like he is now. We don't have to see Hawke, just a comment or codex would do.

Inquisiton companion updates from Harding - kind of like how in Inquisiton you could ask Varric or Hawke about the DA2 companions and they'd give you little updates. For example, "Cassandra rebuilt the Seekers," or "The Iron Bull and his chargers still take jobs across Thedas, more recently against the Antaam. That's gotta be awkward," or things like that, referencing what trajectory we set the companions on (Cassandra pro seeker-rebuild or Iron Bull Tal-Vashoth).

Grey Warden decision fall out - one of the big choices in Dragon Age: Inquisiton was choosing to banish the Grey Wardens or absorb them into the Inquisiton. I chose the later, knowing we'd probably need them in the new game. Maybe a comment from Davrin about how when he first joined the Wardens, he briefly served the Inquisiton, or one from Dorian when he confronts the Warden Commander, saying something like "My friend's mercy is the only reason you still stand to fight the blight".

Idk, I'd love to see people's own ideas and headcanons regarding their past choices so please let me know what you think they should have added based on previous game decisions!

I understand them wanting this to feel like a new game, not bogged down by the last games, but the suggestions I made were mostly one-off comments or codex entries that don't require voice recordings. Having three codex entries for the three Divine candidates and then just rotating them depending on the player choice wouldn't have been that hard... I don't think?

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sparklingmineraltequila · 4 months ago

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American Wasteland

Note: I don't think Rust is a big fan of getting head cause I think that it's much more aligned to Marty's character. However, I think it fits all too well with Crash era Rust so this is me trying to reconcile the two. I also don't think my Philosophy teacher would be too overjoyed knowing I'm using what she taught me to write foreplay but at least it stuck.

Warnings: 18+, violence, drugs, alcohol, reference to sex work, implied past abuse, rough sex both past and present

There are a lot of ways that you can get fucked up by a liquor bottle. Rust knows this. But mainly, there are two ways. The first is the classic act of getting drunk out of your mind: the type of drunk that can only end in violence. Rust doesn't always need to gulp down a bottle of Jameson, straight and hard, to feel the acrid burn of repulsion and vomit in his stomach. Sometimes, the slow sipping of a 12 pack of Bud or Lone Star is preferred on days where he's more lucid, has more of that sickening desire to punish himself with Sofia's face and blood and gurgling cough. Tearing that beer can and slicing at his skin might be a more effective, visceral act of punishment, but it's too quick. No, he brought her into this meat grinder of a world, he should feel that same machinery gnashing away at his being before he is allowed to slide into the stagnation that the piss warm beer allows him. Then, you have the far more crude way to fuck someone up; the jagged edge of smashed glass will do that just fine. Quick, cuts easy into the supple flesh of the cheek and makes a hell of a show. As he glances over the bottles of whiskey, Cassandra lets out a low whistle,

'Johnnie Walker Blue Label. This was the shit my dad used to blow rent on. You'd think for such a piece of shit loser, the man would've had cheaper taste,' and Rust can see a faint lacquer in her eyes, the impenetrable kind making her relive those scenes of her slurring daddy with a heavy set jaw and even heavier hands, the musk of her own fetid sweat mixed with talcum powder on her t-shirt in a pathetic, 8 year old's attempt to get the smell out, the hum of a refrigerator while a little girl cries at the kitchen table cause she doesn't get to feel safe around daddy. Hard to reconcile that image with the 20 year old in a white cotton sundress that ends too soon and is cut too low; the blueish lighting giving her skin a cool sheen. Cassandra puts the bottle back and walks over to where Rust is slotting his usual Jameson under his arm as he picks up a second bottle. From his crouching position, he can see the delicate purple hue on her thighs, arranged in the pattern of his fingerprints. A sickening sense of pride settles itself next to the self-disgust in Rust's gut at the marks and the satisfaction with which Cassandra is looking at them.

'Roughed you up pretty good, huh?' Rust says, gruffly. Cassandra glances over a delicate shoulder from where she's inspecting the Bourbon shelf,

'They hurt.'

'Bullshit, baby. You think I didn't see you were tracin' 'em in the truck, on the way here.'

'Doesn't mean they don't hurt.'

'True,' Rust stands to his full height, 'but d'you know what it does mean?'

'What?' she turns to face him.

He walks over to her, giving her cheek a couple, little pats his fingers, 'That you liked it.' Cassandra gives a derisive scoff but not one that can hide that glint in her eye: relief. Not just that Rust has indulged her infatuation, fucking her into the mattress until she forgot how to say 'Crash', but the protection that those bruises afford; the bruises of a young girl turned woman, bruises who's shade of blue show that the man who gave them is a tough son of a bitch.

'I hate it when you do that,' Cassandra states, somewhat petulantly.

'Do what? Point out that you can't do one over me?'

'No,' she says, narrowing her eyes, 'When you slap me around like that. I feel dumb.'

'That ain't slappin' around, trust me. And you ain't dumb, that's for sure, Cass,' Rust huffs, looping the plastic casing of a Lone Star six-pack through his fingers, 'But you shouldn't look to me to affirm that for you.'

'I don't need you to affirm shit for me.'

'Good, cause I ain't got the fuckin' time or will for that, too. Pick up your head, Cassandra. Stop fuckin' poutin',' Rust's tone is sharp. Cassandra rolls her eyes but she struts behind him, following him to the cashier. As Rust waits in line behind some trucker, Cassandra scuffs her boots against the floor, pulling her gum taught over her tongue until to snaps.

'You snap your gum,' Rust states. Cassandra looks up at him from where she was analysing the snake skin on the point of her boot,

'Huh?'

'You don't blow bubbles, you snap your gum.'

'I ain't gonna give the men 'round here the whole school girl routine. Fuck that,' she scowls. The corner of Rust's mouth twitches slightly at her sharpness; that guile about her never fails to dump buckets of ice cold water over his perception. His smart, smart girl, knowing that a quick, hard fix of money isn't shit next to the promise of survival that grit can give. Leave the milk boxes and cotton socks to the little girls, you're a woman now. It takes a certain intelligence to be sexy, to bear the soft, supple skin of ass, tits and thigh in a delicate veil of lace, and to still keep the wolves at an arm's length. Give them the scent of your blood, hot and throbbing, let them believe that the practiced gasps and rolling neck are just for them, but don't let them tear your skin. The wolves are ravenous in this wasteland, they get a taste for blood and they will gut you from the inside out.

Rust pays, ignoring the cashier's mild look of disapproval or envy at how Cassandra comes to stand next to him. She watches as the bottles get bagged up and Rust turns to leave. She gestures to him as they walk out, her boots clacking on the baked asphalt like one of those old, clunking clocks,

'Let me carry one.'

Rust barely spares her a glance, 'You're underaged. Shouldn't be drinking.' That almost makes her laugh,

'You're fucking kidding, right? I'm a stripper. You remember that, Crash?'

'You're also in college. Need to stay sharp, baby.'

'It's a Friday,' her tone dry, 'Plus, you're always offering me beers.'

'No,' Rust corrects, 'You take my beers and I let you get away with it.'

Cassandra rolls her eyes as they climb into their respective sides of his truck and Rust would be lying if he didn't feel the twist in his stomach at the practiced ease of the act, the facility of their place in the other's space. Rust starts the ignition,

'Stop rollin' those eyes at me.'

'Fuck off, Crash,' she retorts, only slightly annoyed and Rust just hums,

'You're real fuckin' cocky for someone who's in my hands about how many times they get to come, tonight.'

Cassandra almost opens her mouth before clamping it shut, making a big show out of rolling down the window. Smart move, baby, Rust thinks. A sentiment that holds up, after he bends her over the sink, bunching her dress over her hips; gripping her hair, forcing her to look at herself in the mirror as she takes him deep and hard. What Cassandra doesn't know is that the mirror is almost more for Rust's reflection than it is for hers. Forcing himself to look into his own glacial blue eyes, this way he can't indulge in the complete bliss of Cassandra's wet, tightness. No, if he's going to allow himself this then he's going to be fucking straight about it: he's a coked up, undercover narco currently using some vulnerable 20 year old girl who has no clue who he actually is. Rust wishes that the reason he's fucking her so hard, scraping his nails on her scalp, is that he hates her, sees her like one of the hookers that the Iron Crusaders systematically violate; it would make this shit a lot easier. But he doesn't and it's not. Rust is past indulging delusions for the sake of comfort. It was Nietzsche's idea, if he can remember correctly: embrace the pure fucking horror of eternal return, this ontological prison we're all stuck in, and you might finally find some enlightenment amongst the squalor.

'Put your leg up. Let me see those bruises,' he grits out, hand clamping onto her thigh in an attempt to lift to up.

'No-fuck-I won't be able to hold it up,' Cassandra stammers out, knuckles white as a scar on the ceramic rim of the sink out of exertion of holding herself in place when Rust shoves her forward with a particularly brutal thrust of his hips.

'Tsk, wrong answer, baby,' Rust says, shoving her leg up and bending it at the knee so that it rests in the sink bowl. The new position opens her up, not only showing the patterns of bruising on her inner thighs but the glistening wetness of her seam as he pushes into her again. The mixture of the two is a lurid depiction of what sex is around here; its inextricable connection to violence. Like meat and salt. The drop of thin, clear arousal now running down Cassandra's leg, the cracked scabs on his knuckles from a bar fight, the clunking rumble of the AC boxes outside the trailer: blood, sex and heat. Rust reaches a hand down and gathers the drop of wetness on his fingers, he brings it to his mouth and tastes it. Cassandra looks like she wants to cry as he catches her eye in the mirror.

'What's that face for, baby? Ain't never had a man taste you before?' Rust's voice thick from exertion and desire, her tartness covering his tongue.

'That's a really fucking intimate thing to do,' she says and poor baby sounds like she might either sob or come.

'No, it ain't, Rust lands a heavy slap on the bruises, as if to reprimand her for the implication, 'It's how a man fucks a woman.'

'So, I'm a woman to you now?'

'I don't fuck little girls, so yeah,' Rust says, his hand in her hair coming down to grip her throat. That's the one small mercy of innocence, Rust thinks, it can only be corrupted once. He yanks her head up by the chin,

'Look at yourself real good, Cass. This what you want? Some doped up biker with a load on, fucking you, leaving you all roughed up-Look at me, Cassandra,' he snarls, his tone harsh to conceal the begging behind it,

'Yes! Fuck, yes I do!,' she cries out, her adamance mixed with the first tremors of her impending orgasm. Rust lets out a growl, something deep and atavistic, as he yanks up her knee to bend her leg around his hips, now obscenely deep. Cassandra is now halfway slumped against the skin, the cold metal of the tap pressing into her sternum. This shit is good, too good, like the cool bliss of the moment the heroin hits your bloodstream and everything feels fucking pure. He pulls out as her feels her begin to pulsate around him and she cries out. Good, Rust thinks, wanting to punish her for being so goddamn complacent, Get used to crying if you want to fuck around with this shit, baby. He manhandles her to her knees as the muscle in his jaw twitches at what he's about to say to her,

'You want it that bad? Show me,' Rust deadpans, hand twisting into the dark mass of Cassandra's hair. She looks up at him and has the fucking audacity to arch her eyebrow at him before she takes him into her mouth, gagging slightly. Rust has never really seen the appeal of getting head, once he moved past the initial adolescent fascination. It makes him feel out of control, undisciplined, subject to his body's pure evolutionary need to procreate. It's one of the most self-serving, vapid states you can be in, mouth wide open, dumbstruck by ecstasy, unable to form of coherent thought except to mindlessly shove yourself further into the other person who probably isn't enjoying it anywhere near as much as you. Yeah, that's what Rust hates about the whole act, the mindlessness of it. But, fuck, his body isn't even his anymore, belonging to some fucking DEA's office to dope up and regurgitate whatever information they need to peddle their case further, without ever getting their hands dirty or doing some real fucking work. So, he may as well abandon himself to the weakness of his innate biological need.

Cassandra tries to give herself some respite by licking a long stripe up his length but Rust is having none of it: he presses her down so that her nose flattens against his pubic bone making her gag again and harder, shoulders convulsing too.

'Come on, baby,' Rust croons cruelly, using his spare hand to light a cigarette, 'Thought you said you could take it.' Cassandra briefly takes her hand off of the back of his thigh to give him the middle finger, quickly reinstating it as Rust presses as hand to the back of her skull and thrusts harder,

'Keep that shit up and I'll make you gag on your own finger, next.'

A few more chokes and constrictions of Cassandra's throat, and Rust is coming hot and heavy down it. He doesn't let her catch her breath,

'Get up,' he says, fastening his belt with his cigarette still hanging from his mouth. Cassandra just slumps against the bathroom floor, held up half by a trembling arm and half by leaning against Rust's leg. She glances up, hearing the clink of his belt,

'You're getting dressed?' a slight desperation to her voice.

'No points for deduction, Cass.'

'No, no, wait-,' she says, clambering up, or at least trying to, on shaky legs, 'Crash, Crash, I didn't come. Please-'

'What did I tell you about you bein' grown? Grown women fix their own messes,' Rust says, face and tone stoic as he casts to the slick that has dripped down from the apex of Cassandra's thighs onto the floor just under her, her smeared lip gloss, her nipples hard and visible through the thin cotton of her dress. He gives her hair a harsh ruffle before walking out the bathroom. As he grabs the Jameson bottles and beer, he stops in front of the trailer's door calling out behind him,

'Get to work, Cassandra.'

#rust cohle #rust cohle x original female character #rust cohle x reader #american wasteland

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witchlingcirce · 2 months ago

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I’m so bored rn so I want to overanalyse Cassandra Clare’s recent post about her in Sweden and what that could mean for TWP!!!.

And two quick side notes before we begin: I don’t know a lot about Sweden, so if anyone wants to add onto too any of my points please do!! Or correct me, all is welcome <3!! ALSO, I’m sure 99% of these photos are just nice pictures from her holiday trip :), I am just bored and deciding to look far too into it!!

FIRST OFF IS THIS LAKE, now this one kind of confirmed to have something to do with kit & Ty:

Okay so obviously Kit & Ty need to get past this river, so this leads me to wonder why: either A: there running from someone/something, B: there’s an objective at the end of the lake.

The phrasing of “Could Ty & Kit cross that river” leads me believe that they will probably spend a bit of time figuring out how 👀, my theory is that Kit may use his magic and find a way to have them both cross the river, OR maybe Ty will make something for them to cross the river???

Now onto the bit I feel like I DONT SEE PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT is the “will they survive”. Now maybe there being chased down by something and maybe the thing being chased down Knicks one of them, and they don’t realise until there over lake 👀 or maybe something malfunctions while there going over the lake???

I stated before that maybe Kit uses his powers, and maybe by doing so, he hurts himself… OR HE HURTS TY (the angst…)

Another possibility, which I’m 100% pulling out my ass rn that relies on whatever season Sweden is in during TWP but maybeee the lake is frozen over and while walking on it, one of them falls in and the other has to save them (this trope always remind me of little woman).

I don’t really have any particular theories about said Cabin, but I do believe that it will be in TWP- so I decided to include it!!!

I feel like the cabin will definitely have some veryyyy romantic moments idk, I mean… a blackthorn loves a good cabin *cough* mark *cough* Julian *cough*

I have a feeling we will see some fun tropes play out in said cabin, one I’ve seen before is the “one bed trope” which I love, and can see happening !! I can imagine maybe some personal moments between the two, talking about certain things ie: what’s happened over the last three years (again this depends on when this takes place during the story)

I also have a feeling that the cabin may be near the lake, so I feel like this kind of relates to my above points!!!

Now… THIS!! I don’t actually know what kind of building this is, so I will not comment on that or anything as such… but the architecture is SO COOL

I feel like this would probably be a destination where they meet someone. Maybe a warlock and or Faerie. The sticks around the structure itself kind of gives me fae vibes, so maybe mother Hawthorne??? Or a new character haven’t seen… but it’s soooo cool and the fog makes it ohhh soooo mysterious

And on a final, and more happy note…. What if Kit & Ty go on a waterfall date :,()

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thedeviltohisangel · 5 months ago

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All The Things I Did (11): Love Me To My Bones

a/n: i promise one day john will sing blue skies. we are slowly but surely working our way towards that beautiful occasion. there is a lot of yearning and can you tell i am reading romance novels again moments in here but i will gladly rot my teeth and hope you all will. let me know how much or little you'd like to see of cass/harding with the brits. i am here to meet your needs, always. love you guys like you hang the stars !

Once her and John had regained control of their breathing and Cass control of her legs, they’d giggled like school children while cleaning up her office. This intimacy was a warmly welcomed change for them both. An escalation of the love he had already expressed to her and the commitment she had echoed back in kind. It felt validating that after baring her soul the night before he had still wanted her. That her acquiescence to the Colonel’s offer hadn’t swayed his desires. Over and over again she been met with the overwhelming feeling of being loved by John Egan. And everytime it felt amplified. Solidified. Sanctified. As if every time was building off the last resulting in a compounding level of love that left her dizzy.

John Egan was all encompassing. And she wanted him forever. Just the way he was.

“You’re really going to make me wait hours to see you again?” he whispered as they gently swayed in each other’s arms. “Can’t you come make Red look like an idiot for a little bit?”

“While the idea of upstaging him is incredibly appealing, I have to coordinate something with Mary for tonight.” She kissed him gently. “You’ll come by to zip me up?”

“Only because you promised I could unzip you after.”

“Three times in one day, Major. Make sure you eat some protein and drink some water. I’m not a fan of my lovers losing their stamina on me.” She kissed him once again and headed for the doors.

“How many lovers you got, Spook?” She thought about answering. Telling him that he was only the second man she had ever been with. If the first even counted as a man. But then would he feel inclined to give a number back? From all the whispers she had heard, she didn’t want to know what that number was.

“Not nearly as many as you, John. You don’t have to worry.” Cass tried to keep her tone teasing, tried to open the door and step back into the fray but his palm pushed the door shut before she opened it any more than an inch.

“What does that mean?” He closed the distance between them and turned her around so they were chest to chest. “Cass, please tell me you don’t think about my past like that.” Like it was something for her to compare herself to. Like she was just another name on his list.

“I’ve only been intimate with one other person.” Her answer stayed like that. No true answer to what John had just asked.

“And even if you’d been with none or a hundred, it wouldn’t change that I love you. That the connection we have is very important to me. Special, even.” Cass nodded.

“I know. But people talk, John. People talk about the you before you met me.” Bucky. The man who danced with all the pretty girls and kissed them before he left. Had gone even further outside in the grass once apparently. A version of him she’d seen glimpses of but not the full picture. Did he regret starting this thing with her? Regret putting that piece of him to rest?

“There is no me before you. Not anymore. Yes. I’ve had more than my fair share of…intimate moments with other women. But the version of me standing in front of you, Cassandra Ann, is not that man. The man in front of you loves you. Didn’t know what the word meant before you let alone the feeling.” He reached down and grabbed her hands and brought each finger to his lips individually. “I’m tethered to you, Cass. In a way I hope to one day be able to explain to you. But I never want you thinking, not for one second, that my life didn’t start that day on the air strip. When I saw you and fell in love with you and knew I was going to be yours forever before I even knew your name.” She pecked him quickly.

“I wasn’t expecting all that when I mentioned it, Johnny. Consider any doubt soothed.” Her hands rested on the side of his neck as his fingers locked around the small of her back. "You don’t ever need to try and articulate that feeling to me. I’ve got the key to translating it right here.” She placed his hand over her heart. John traced the tip of his finger up and down the front of her throat.

“My puzzle piece,” he murmured. Cass smiled and rubbed her nose against his lovingly.

“When we go out there, please remember you’ve taken my underwear. Shield me from the vultures,” she teased knowing her pencil skirt was plenty long enough to cover the scandalous bits.

“How are they ever going to recover from seeing your bare, stocking-less legs?”

“That is also entirely your fault,” she mentioned with a furrowed brow. “Maybe I should ruin some of your clothing and have you prance around the secretaries' bullpen.”

“Mary would protect me. I’m certain.”

“I’ll ask. And then pick my course of action accordingly.” John hummed in amusement and placed his palms on her cheeks.

“As long as that course ends up right here,” he kissed her dramatically for effect,”then you pick away, baby.” Those three words were screaming in her chest. Crawling their way up her throat and trying to poke her lips out of the way. If she opened her mouth right now, she would say it. I love you. I love you, John. I’m in love with every last godforsaken inch of you and I want to love you like this until the day I die. Please don’t ever leave me. I won’t be able to continue on. Instead she smiled and stood on her tiptoes for another kiss. Her feelings tucked back into the corner of her heart that was reserved for John anyways. Underneath any other secret she may be keeping from him.

----

“Ma’am I am so incredibly sorry! I had no idea that he sent Eloise here for-” Cass held a hand out to steady Mary as she returned to her building, her secretary frantically trying to apologize for the ordeal with Harding that was now set to take place.

“Breathe, Mary, breathe. I am not upset with you. I know you would never participate in such a farce willingly. Eloise is not to blame either.” She pulled Mary into a hug. “I told the lovely Colonel that I don’t want him using you in his schemes ever again.” Mary smiled. Only Lieutenant Cooper had the guts to go toe to toe with a Colonel. Only she could come out of the fight victorious. Having someone like her in her corner, Mary was thankful every day.

“And what was the ultimate aim of his scheme this time?”

“He invited me to dinner with the Brits tonight. Said he used the information from Eloise to have a dress custom made for me to wear.” Mary disappeared behind her desk and lifted a box onto the top. It was large and wrapped with pink paper complete with a bow.

“Left a note and everything,” Mary mused. Half of her had wanted to show it to Major Egan. Send him on the warpath towards Colonel Harding and see what fun that might stir up. But her more sensible half had won out and saved it for Lieutenant Cooper.

“Did you read it?” Mary nodded. “Do I want to read it?” She ripped it as an answer. “Perfect. Let’s go unpack this.” Cass set the offensive box on her bed and pulled the ribbon loose before ripping the paper and lifting the lid. It was a shade of lilac. Sleeves that would hit the middle of her upper arm and poofed slightly at the seam. A neckline that would show just enough of her collarbone to be considered tantalizing but not scandalous. She hated that she already knew it was going to look lovely on her.

“Does Major Egan plan on stopping by?” Mary asked softly. Her own mind was whirring with the possible emotions the man was going to exhibit.

“He does,” Cass whispered back, her eyes unable to look away from the dress. “I promised him he could see me before Harding. See me immediately after.”

“I see.” They were both studying the dress with an assessing gaze. Wondering that problems it may present for their future selves.

“Maybe I’ll start by taking a shower. See if that can’t clear my head and offer me a better idea on what to do.”

“Do you have any specific requirements for tonight? I could get started on your questioning plan,” Mary offered as she searched Cass’ closet for an empty wire hanger for the dress.

“I haven’t quite decided yet which attendee will be my target,” she muttered back. “Maybe we brush up our targeting package on the British Colonel and go from there. I know enough about Harding that I can pin him without any research.”

“It’ll be ready when you are, ma’am,” Mary promised. She gathered the packaging from the dress in her arms and was back to her desk to get to work.

Cass felt absolutely ridiculous as scrubbed at her hair and shaved her legs and used her sweet smelling soap all over her body. It was the same routine she would follow for any mission of this nature. A mission where she was expected to use her lilting laugh and eyelashes and every inch of forbidden skin to get what she wanted. It was on these nights she felt like an arrow being knocked by a hunter. Pointed in the direction that suited them best. Arced into the sky with a hope that it would hit its target and exact the killing blow. All with the hopes the victim never saw it coming. Never heard the truth behind her aim. Never felt the tip lodge between their ribs until she had already left.

As she ran the hairdryer over her head, she did her best to find that look in the mirror. The mask she always wore when she was tasked with an objective. The one she had worn in Berlin but shrugged as quickly as she could. She hadn’t really removed it since Berlin. Just for those moments between her and John in her room or in her office. Otherwise she had made sure it was firmly in place. Lest she break down again for all to see. The humiliation had been gut wrenching. And then there was her letter to her superiors. Asking if she could speak to the Foster family. Offer them closure from the last person to see their son alive. Their answer was quick. Someone called Mary from a secure line to tell her to tell Cass no. She had used the word ‘coward’ more than once in her rant to the secretary.

The soft knock on the door was from the woman in question. “Lieutenant Cooper?” Cass clicked off the tool and looked at her with a steadying breath. “Major Egan is rather impatiently waiting for you in the foyer.”

“Alright. I’ll be out to ensconce him away in just a moment,” she promised. Mary offered her a soft smile before she was closing the door and steeling herself to deal with the handsome annoyance in the front of the building. She could hear the grumbling and the groaning coming from him as she carefully rolled her curlers into her hair. Did her best to focus as she heard footsteps approaching the door. Footsteps that were way too heavy to belong to Mary’s kitten heels.

“Is everyone decent?” he called through the door.

“I’m alone. You couldn’t just wait five minutes?” she asked with an exasperated tone as the door swung open and he appeared.

“Nope.” The word popped out of his mouth with a distinct clarity and amused look. “Not when you’re the only thing that could calm my thoughts.” There was something dark and hollow inside of him whenever he thought about her spooky work. John would never be able to forget the way she looked in the sick bay after Berlin. The way she had crumpled into her arms and wept over the loss of her friend. He didn’t understand how Harding could ask her to suit back up so quickly but then again he had experienced the same relentless pace. Prepare, attack, debrief, prepare, attack, debrief and on and on until it became the only three things you knew how to do.

“Calm your thoughts? What is causing them to race?” She set the curler onto the counter to offer him her full attention.

“It’s only been a day, Cass.” Oh. So that is what this was about.

“You don’t think I’m ready to get back into the real world? You didn’t seem to think I was fragile this morning when you fucked me on my desk.” It had always been an asset of hers that she was able to shut down her emotions and move on. Lock away that human part of her and just keep going forwards. Yesterday or the day before or any other day might as well be a different lifetime. Moving on was the only way for her to carry on.

“I did not use that word,” he hedged as she started shoving things into a makeup bag angrily. “Just wanted you to know it’s okay to take some time. Okay to let the wound take time to heal.”

“There is no wound, John. The same way you get called to go back up there regardless of who was lost and what you saw the last time. The same way you answer the call and climb into the plane without even thinking about it. This is exactly the same thing.” It was then she noticed the flowers in his hands. Not the wildflowers like he normally brought her. They looked like they came from a proper florist. “What are those?” she whispered.

“I thought a lady such as yourself could recognize lilies when she saw them.” The longer he had thought about Cass going to this dinner with Harding, waltzing in on the arm of a Colonel in a dress he had tailor made for her, and then his mind had turned completely dark. The image of her family business in South Carolina and the banker she had been expected to marry. The debutante balls and afternoon tea socials. A world he was wholly inadequate to be a part of. He needed to try harder. For her. For the future he wanted for them. Be the man worthy of expressing her love to.

“What happened to the wild flowers?” Cass appreciated the gesture. Could only imagine how hard these had been to find in the local town. But the wildflowers were special. Represented the land that brought them together. The spirit of freedom that she felt whenever she was around him.

“I thought these were a bit nicer. For the occasion.”

“Thank you.” She took them and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “But the wildflowers…they make me feel like I get to keep a piece of my wild, Wisconsin man in my room or office while you’re away.”

“You deserve-”

“I am not even deserving of you, John.” Not after everything she had done.

“I love you. You deserve the world. And I’m going to give it to you.” Even if it was bit by bit and piece by piece and took him a lifetime to deliver to her. He would spend his days offering these shards of life to her on bended knee. Only then would he feel deserving of the woman in front of him.

“That sounds like it might take awhile, Major. Sure you want to be stuck with me that long?” He kissed her lips gently.

“It’s all I could ever want.”

----

True to his request and her promise, it was John’s fingers that brushed the skin of her back, the zipper closing impeccably at the top.

“How’s it look?” Cass’ question was directed at Mary. John looked too stunned to speak. A mix of anger and worship swirling across his face.

“You look beautiful, ma’am,” she answered honestly. “I’ll go keep an eye out for the Colonel.” It translated to her offering them a moment alone before Cass was on her way.

“Well? Do you agree? Am I beautiful?” she asked with a teasing spin. The skirt flared in a perfect circle before resting back above her knee.

His fingertips skirted over hers before tracing up her forearms and settling around her elbows. He used them to pull her flush against his chest where his nose took on the duty of urging goosebumps across her skin. “You just want me to look like a fool. Trying to find words to capture just how…splendid you look right now.”

“Splendid?” Her eyebrows rose as she locked her fingers behind his neck. “

“I asked Gale to help me think of some new words.” With a grin that could only be described as childlike, he pulled a piece of worn paper from his breast pocket. “Splendid, magnificent, spectacular…” His voice carried off as she giggled.

“I’m surprised he didn’t just laugh at you.” In truth, John had been hunched over a piece of paper trying to write a poem for Cass. To say it was going horribly would be an understatement. Part of Gale had been screaming to tell John he didn’t need to resort to such trivial things to prove he was worthy of her. To keep her from running off with Colonel Harding. That everybody within a hundred mile radius knew exactly who each of them belonged to. No questions asked. But the other part of him had thought the show of devotion was worthy of being nurtured. Knew John hadn’t felt this way, not even close, ever before. Probably never would again. Knew that Cass had been the greatest influence on his friend even in their short time of knowing each other. Helping the budding romantic couldn’t hurt.

“I think he’s rooting for us,” he whispered in her ear like it was the greatest secret of mankind.

“I think Mary is too,” she whispered against his cheek before pressing her lips to the skin there.

“Guess we better not fuck it up.” A grin spread across her face that he matched as she kissed at the corner of his lips, his mustache tickling her lovingly. “I’m sorry for ever questioning you.”

“I’m sorry for thinking it meant you doubted me.”

“I just want you to be safe and taken care of. Make sure you know someone is looking out for you.” Love was screaming in her chest at his admission. Wasn’t this exactly what love was? Putting another’s well being before your own?

“Thank you.” She chose the simple words to offer him. Relished in the way his eyes fluttered close as their foreheads rested against each other.

“I don’t want to let you go.” He wanted her all to himself. Wanted this version of her, this prim and proper version, to be for him and him alone. Reclaim that piece of her Landry had taken away. Hold her while she learned to love it all over again.

“One day, you won’t have to. I promise.” She couldn’t promise that one day would come soon That they would survive the end of the war and live their happily ever after. But she could promise him that when it did, she would be there with open arms and a full heart ready to love him until the light in her eyes was extinguished.

“Ma’am, Colonel Harding is here for you.” Mary had held him off as long as she could.

“A kiss for good luck?” Cass requested with her toes tipped and lips puckered.

"You don’t need luck,” he kissed her anyway. “How about another one outside for the good Colonel to witness?”

“Don’t go riling anybody up,” she cautioned as she took his arm and he began to escort her out to the waiting Jeep. “As much as it annoys us, I still have to spend the entire night with the man.” John shortened his strides to keep pace with her, going so far as to carry her purse and gloves on the arm she wasn’t gripping. A younger version of him might have guffawed over the image of the pilot carrying a patent leather handbag and white silk gloves. But he supposes the younger version of him would not have been able to look away from the woman on his arm long enough to notice. He was proud of the man he was today. Right there in that moment. Achieved his dreams of becoming a pilot and serving his country and leading men towards an aim that was worthy of it. Found a girl so special she was worth risking everything for. Worth loving so fully that he wanted to scream it out the window of his B-17 so the wind could carry the news to every corner of the world. He hoped his father was looking down, just as proud. Hoped his sisters wouldn’t try too hard to scare her off when they met her. Hoped his mother would love her as much as he did.

“Lieutenant, you look beautiful this evening.” He had thought about calling her Cassandra, kissing the top of her hand in a sweeping bow but decided against it because of the way the younger Major was looking at her. The look of a man who would know no boundary in defending her.

“Thank you, Sir. The dress is lovely.” Cass smiled genuinely and took her accessories from John when he offered them. “This is where we say goodbye,” she whispered. He dropped a kiss to the top of her nose and pulled her closer by the small of her back.

“I love you,” he said like a promise, “knock them fucking dead, Spook.”

“I’ll find you as soon as I get back.” She kissed him once more before untangling herself from his hold, his hand wrapping around hers and not letting go until the distance made it impossible for him to hold on any longer. He watched her go with a bittersweet smile. Happy she could have a night of luxury, whatever version of it this place could offer, and a pang of disappointment he wasn’t the one delivering it to her.

Cass settled into the passenger seat of the Jeep and waved softly to John as Harding started the car and they were off. Tearing her gaze away from his slowly disappearing silhouette took all her effort but she managed after a few moments.

“Love? Quite the declaration in a time like this.”

“He means it too,” she muttered back as she focused on the scenery passing by them.

“You didn’t say it back.” Cass scowled at him and hoped the cold in her gaze would slice right through his offensive comment and draw blood from his skin.

“Mind your own business, Colonel.”

She managed to stay silent the rest of the drive to the restaurant where they were meeting his counterpart, her mask slipping over her face with ease.

“Lieutenant-”

“Get in, get out. I won’t get in your way as long as you don’t get in mine.” If he wanted to, he could scold her for talking to a superior officer that way. But, God, did he love that fire in her eyes right now. “Does that work for you?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” He even tipped his cap. “Shall we?” He offered her his arm and she assessed it for just a moment before gingerly taking it. It didn’t feel like the final piece of a puzzle on a rainy day. The moment in a novel where your every question is answered. The sound of recognition when you see an old friend.

It felt like a mission. A requirement. A gap she was being tasked to fill. The motions were easy for her. She thought it would be hard after Will but maybe getting back in the mix was exactly what she needed.

She thought of John as she walked into the restaurant, thought of him as she always did. Thought for all his loveliness at seeing her in this dress, she didn’t want him to see that the person she would become while in it. What the name Spook truly meant. How she became the word without a second thought. This was a piece of her she would always choose to keep from him.

Cass flicked her curls over her shoulder as the British officer approached, his eyes zeroing in on her bare shoulder with no desire to constrain his hunger at all.

Yes. She’d keep this hidden indeed.

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