#can you tell i thought about one thing more than others?

[tokoyamisstuff]

Random thought how good do you think each invincible variant would be at eating 😺 is there any of them who would be an actual munch

18+ explicit content

Sis, don't- it's not worth it...

Other variants under the cut!

Omnivincible is more skilled than most of them. I just feel like he's got a mature approach and wouldn't just mindlessly delve in like some horny teenager.

He'd take his sweet time, enjoying himself without necessarily wanting something in return. In general he takes great pride in causing you pleasure. Is also pretty creative. After all his strenght allows him to eat you out in positions you didn't even know were possible.

Thought you can only come once at a time? He'll prove you otherwise.

Movincihawk constantly brags about his 'superior technique' but at the bottom line he's not all that good at it, sorry.

It's not like he isn't skilled, but he's pretty selfish and impatient. Any kind of foreplay is not a priority for him in general, he likes to go straight to the point.

Fucks pretty well to make up for it though.

Sinister Mark acts like he's doing you a favor, but with how eager he buries himself between your legs it's evident to say he enjoys this as much - if not even more than - you.

This man pins your thighs apart and eats you out like a man starving. Your taste drives him fucking crazy, so yes it could happen that he bites down harder than he intended to.

Likes to eat you out on your period. No I will not elaborate.

Striped/Target Invincible is super vocal during the whole thing. His grunts and groans vibrate against your folds, he doesn't even notice the effect you have on him.

Hope you're ready for the whole range of dirty talk, mostly degrading but occasionally throwing in words of acknowledgement. Tells you how this is your place - beneath him, completely at his mercy.

Uses his fingers better than his tongue, but is fairly good at both. The combination will send you straight to heaven.

No Goggles Invincible is probably the biggest tease on the entire planet.

This man will push you to your absolute limits, reducing you to a whining, moaning, begging puddle of lust. But he's got no mercy, prolonging your sweet torture for as long as he can - you're only allowed to cum if he says you're done.

With him the thin line between pain and pleasure is blurred into a mixture of pure overstimulation, but goddamn it's worth it.

Viltrumite Mark isn't familiar with earth's customs of intimacy. In their culture, canonically, they solely have sex for procreation. Though we never saw Debbie complaining about Nolan either, so I'm confident he can learn.

Gets the hang of it pretty fast, and quickly grows insateable with this new form of closeness he never got to experience before. He's an absolute mess, almost breaking the bedframe as he pathetically humps the mattress, wanting more more more of you.

Needs lots of cuddles and to be told he did a good job afterwards, pretty please.

Prisoner Mark was in solitary confinement for over a year - prepare to be destroyed. R.I.P.

He'll dive in between your legs and won't leave this place until he's got his fill of you, which could take him a while so get cozy.

Not an inch of your body is left untouched, as if he intents to memorize every detail, just in case you'd slip from his grasp once again.

Be prepared to cum until your body gives up. Man's got to make up for the time he spent away from you.

Unmasked Mark is very gentle, almost cautious in his efforts as if you were a fragile flower one needed to properly care for or it'd wither. He still can't fully believe you're here with him, so he's extra anxious about doing something wrong.

You'll slowly and sensually be guided towards your orgasm, his eyes never leaving yours as he reverently observes your every reaction.

Expect some premium aftercare!

Fully Masked Invincible knows you inside and out, has memorized all the weak spots that make you sing for him. He is completely and utterly devoted to your pleasure, maybe even a little too eager in his efforts since he tends to forget himself in the process.

To him your body is a temple meant for worship, so you'd relentlessly get showered in praise and compliments while he explores your body.

Will initiate at every given opportunity, but never pushes it. He just wants to make you happy, really!

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Look Behind You

Main Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, smut (p in v, fingering), light angst, fluff, humor, action, no use of y/n, semi-linear story telling, enemies to lovers

You've made a mistake. You've been reckless and fallen in love with Bucky. There's only one way to deal with this.

Make a list.

Author's Note: This is one of my favorites, I think. Thriving in the semi-linear story telling, feelings, and list making. Gotta love a good list. Enjoy!

Word Count: 11.9k

The pen in your hands feels more like a weapon. The last line of defense against the unthinkable. 

The only thing holding your sanity, dignity, and life by a single thread, set to snap if you’re not careful.

Nobody will bother you in this coffee shop. Not even Bucky will look for you here. You’re in public. You’re somewhere obvious and simple, and that’s the whole point. Sam and Bucky will lose themselves down dark allies and in hidden corners of the city before they think to check an emotionally significant landmark in downtown Manhattan. They won’t believe you’d be that stupid, make it that easy for them. They’ll think that—because you’re dodging calls, because you were gone when Bucky woke up and you didn’t meet with Sam before lunch—you don’t want to be found.

And you don’t.

So they’re not going to find you. 

There’s a lingering fear that a search team might be assembled, and the city may be barricaded in until you’re found, but you don’t think Sam will abuse his power like that.

Bucky might try to convince him to.

You’re about fifty percent sure Sam won’t cave.

It’s a bridge you’ll burn when you reach it. When they do—eventually—find you. When you—hopefully—have your answer, and you have to look Bucky in the eyes and keep finding a way to live with yourself.

If this goes as you hope, that will be quite easy. You’ll lie through your teeth and say you lost your phone—it’s right next to you, the SIM card removed and battery purposefully dead, but they never need to know that—and thought that Sam and Bucky would be able to find you if they needed you. They’ll look embarrassed and make a silent vow to each other that you’ll pretend not to see—swearing that they’ll never tell you how they almost called the coast guard in—and then everything will go back to normal.

If it goes the way you’re afraid of, that will be more complicated. You’re not entertaining that possibility with things like plans or strategies, because you simply won’t allow it to happen. This will work. You have the pen, the paper, and at least eight hours before Sam and Bucky grow a brain cell and figure out where you are.

Deep breath. The coffee in front of you is sweeter than you’d usually want it, almost sickly, but it can be a motivation. The coffee shop is crowded, and the tables are blue. You can smell the decorative roses on the windows. You can hear the music in your earbuds. The pen is heavy in your hands, but all that means is it’s real. And this is going to work.

List of Reasons to Hate Bucky-

You pause, and scratch out Bucky. It’s too intimate. You’re setting yourself up for failure. 

List of Reasons to Hate James Barnes.

You have reason one locked and loaded. You’ve been rehearsing the whole list for a week—since the revelation that can’t be spoken of, because that will make it real—and you know half of your pre-planned reasons will drift into nothing as you go through the list, but at least you’ll have one. 

It’s better than none of them.

You’re a little worried a hundred won’t do the job.

You have to try anyway.

1. He stares.

——————

You don’t know how you got here. Sitting across from Captain America, kicking your feet slightly and humming to yourself as he and his very angry looking sidekick glare at you.

It seems like a contest, trying to figure out who will break and speak first.

It won’t be you.

Captain America is out of his suit, and, logically, you know his wings won’t just spring out of his body. They’re mechanical, not biological. Part of you is still wondering—should you move suddenly and startle him—if he’ll squak and take off like a real bird. 

He won’t, and you don’t think either of these men will find that as funny as you will. The Cap seems intently focused on trying to puff out his chest in his chair—like an odd sort of intimidation ritual or mating dance, done more on instinct than logic—and his sidekick is looking at you as if you’re the most disgusting thing he’s ever seen.

You’ve gotten that look before. It doesn’t shake you on his face any more than it does anyone else, but there is something… different. Most people will glare with that revolted look at what you’ve done, and for what expression, and it won’t sink deeper than your skin, because they don’t understand. They don’t know what the shadows and colder nights feel like, they don’t know how long you’ve been broken and alone, they don’t know that—whatever loathing for you has wormed its way into their heart—they don’t hate you. They hate what you’ve done, and they really don’t fucking understand.

This guy looks like he understands you perfectly, and it’s viler to him than anything in the world. Like he knows exactly who you are, like every marred and twisted organ is visible to his unwavering stare, and it’s the worst thing he’s even seen.

You’d laugh, if it didn’t cause an odd sting in your heart. Because you know who Bucky Barnes is. You know that any blood on your hands is mirrored on his, and if he really knows who you are, he’ll think better than to turn the violent glint behind his eyes into action. 

Especially because you know he won’t hurt you. He can’t, but you don’t think he’ll even try. He’s cured. He’s free. He doesn’t hurt people anymore, and you’re technically a person.

You’re also starting to be incredibly certain that this is some sort of staring competition. There’s no other reason for the silence to be stretching on this pointlessly long. It’s a little amusing, how they seem to have started a game they’ll never win, but it doesn’t change what’s happening. You’re handcuffed to a chair in an unknown location, Captain America and the Ex-Winter Solider are trying to break you with only very angry expressions, and you could escape in a second but you’re bored, and you don’t care about winning, but you want them to lose.

And they do.

Because Captain America breaks first, and smile pulls at your lips that you don’t bother to hide.

“You know why you’re here?”

You shrug, keeping your voice bored and amused. “Should I?”

He blinks at that, looking over his shoulder at Barnes, and letting out a long breath as his companion just keeps glaring at you. “Buck-“

“Don’t say my name, dumbass-“

“She already knows who we are-“

“She hasn’t been in damn public for a decade, we don’t know what she knows-“

“Man, c’mon, Fisk has TVs.” Captain America rolls his eyes, and turns back to you. “You know who we are?”

“I don’t think so?” You look between them with your best, perfectly innocent and confused expression. “Should I?”

Barnes narrows his eyes, scanning over you with an unblinking fury that’s almost scary. Not quite, but almost.

“You know who we are.”

“I don’t think I do-“

Barnes scoffs. “Don’t lie-“

Captain America shakes his head, cutting Barnes off with a firm glare. “I dunno, man, you’re the one who said-“

“I know what I said, but- You’re really falling for that?” Barnes gestures to you with a scowl, and you give him a sweet smile in return. “She’s clearly lying, Sam-“

Sam rolls his eyes. “Who’s sayin’ names now, Bucky-“

You clear your throat, and they both look back to you with almost twin, venomous glowers.

“What.” Sam snaps, and you let out a long, dramatic sigh.

“Do I have to stay tied to the chair while you two fight? Or can I go home?”

“Home?” Barnes gives you a pointed look. “You gonna head right back to Fisk, doll?”

You don’t answer, just shrugging and letting your smile widen, even as the thought of willingly running home to fucking Fisk makes bile rise in your throat.

Barnes holds your gaze with a glare. You don’t think you’ve seen him blink once. It might be the main thing keeping you in this chair.

You want to see what they have to say, and you’d really like to see if Barnes can blink, or if it will make his circuits fry and heart go into an arrest.

You get the former first, when Sam runs a hand over his face, leans forward in his chair, and mutters your name. Your real name.

He knows your name. That’s interesting.

“Look, we-“ He glances at Barnes—still glaring at you—and lets out a long breath. “We know who you are.”

“Oh?” You look between them will well-practiced, faux innocence. “Do you?”

“Fisk’s pet.” Barnes grunts, and Sam sighs again. He seems to do that a lot.

“I- Coulda phrased it better, but yeah. You’re his hit… woman.” Sam’s voice drops as he continues, watching you carefully. “Look, we got an opportunity for you. Help us bring down Fisk, you get a full par-“

“Okay.”

Sam frowns. “I wasn’t done-“

“I don’t care.” You shrug. “I’m in. Can you let me out now?”

“Uh-“

“That’s it?” Barnes cuts Sam off with a snap, his tone full of a disgust that’s a little dramatic. “You’re just- You’re gonna flip like that? No questions, no loyalty? Out of fuckin’ self-preservation?”

You snort, not bothering to sit up as you hold his gaze. “Of course it’s out of self-preservation. Would you rather I hold my moral high-ground and keep working for the evil crime lord? Would that be better for you? Cause I can flip back, you just need to say the word and I’ll go tell Fisk that Captain America tried to cut a deal with me-“

“Hey, no.” Sam holds up his hand, letting out a long, slow breath as he glares at Barnes. “C’mon, man, you know we get one shot at this, stop antagonizing her-“

“She’s antagonizing me.” Barnes mutters, and you scoff. 

“You’re not the one cuffed to a chair, dipshit-“

“You-“ Barnes’ jaw clenches, and his hands curl at his side. Maybe he’ll punch you. That feels like it’ll help, somehow. “Sam, this cannot be our only option. She,” he gestures to you, and you wink at him. It doesn’t help. “Is not the only person in the whole damn city that works for Fisk. We’ll find another-“

“I’m the only person he trusts that will flip.” You hum. “Everyone else in his inner circle believes in the cause, or something. They love him, worship the ground he walks on. I’m the Stockholm puppy, they’ll never assume I flipped, and they’ll tell me whatever I ask because they don’t think I’d have this,” you give a vague wave of your hand in Sam and Bucky’s direction. “In me. I’m not just your only option. I’m your best option.”

There’s a long silence as they stare at you— incredibly uncuffed from the chair—and before Barnes can lunge at you with what might have been snarl, Sam stands up, shoves him away, and they exchange low, angry words.

You settle for examining your nails as you wait, and Barnes’ glare pushes right under skin and sticks to it. You don’t know how you know, but there’s a very certain feeling that for the rest of your life you’re going to feel a buzzing, electric heat under your skin that’s entirely made of James Barnes, glaring at you. 

You really don’t think he can blink. 

But you’ll have plenty of time to find out, because when they return it’s with the news that they’ve come to an agreement—more likely Barnes lost an argument, but you don’t really care—that you’re in.

Barnes won’t stop staring at you. And you could leave, if you wanted.

But you’re interested in seeing how this plays out. And Barnes may be rearranging every nerve point and organ in your body with only his attention, but that isn’t nearly as important as getting away from Fisk. 

So you stare right back. 

——————

Reason two is a little harder. You’d had it lined up as well, but it hurts to even think.

You have to. If you’re going to get through this, you have to write down all the reason, even if you’d punch anyone else square in the jaw for saying them.

Bucky doesn’t deserve this. You need to pretend he does.

For your own sanity, you need to pretend he does.

2. He can be an asshole.

You don’t make it three second before something rattles in your body, and you add- 

But so can you.

——————

“You know,” Barnes drawls behind you, and it’s amazing how bad he can be at shutting up. This is supposed to be a stealth mission. He hasn’t stop talking to you since Sam put you two on a team and then fucked off to go fly around the warehouse. “The spider kid’s told us all about you, doll-“

“Parker?” You hum, and Barnes blinks. 

There it is.

“How’d you- No-“

“I know Spider-man’s Peter Parker.” You give Barnes an overly sweet smile, and you’ve been their double agent for a month of back-alley meetings and careful exchanges in noisy rooms, but it hasn’t seemed to stop getting under his skin. “I’ve known for like, five years.”

Barnes shakes his head, as if he doesn’t believe you. Like you just somehow guessed. “But Fisk doesn’t-“

“I didn’t tell Fisk.”

You turn back to the path ahead of you, and you can still feel Barnes’ glower.

“You think you’re fuckin’ smart, kid-“

“Yes, I do.” You throw him another smile over your shoulder, and his glare deepens. “What did Peter tell you about me?”

“That you’re kind of a bitch.” Barnes grunts, and you roll your eyes.

“He’s just still mad I gave him a concussion.” You mutter. “I didn’t mean to-“

“You didn’t mean to give him a fucking concussion-“ 

“I didn’t know how strong he’d be. It was new, I thought I’d just be breaking his nose-“

Barnes grabs your arm, yanking you back without warning and covering your mouth with a gloved hand, muffling your yelp.

“Be more careful.” He grunts in your ear. “Almost walked right into the open, you’ll get yourself shot.”

If you lean a little further back, your skin will touch his. Maybe he’d be stronger than Parker. Maybe you could hit hard enough to knock a new personality into him.

Because for the past week, Barnes has been a fucking dick. You understand not trusting you. It’s a reasonable conclusion to reach. 

But he doesn’t listen. He shoots down all your intel and acts both like you’re a weak little child, and an atomic bomb set to go off any second. You’re neither. You want Fisk dead more than anyone, and you’re in complete control. If you weren’t, you would’ve killed him days ago, and never even fucking blinked.

It’s a testament to that control, that you shove yourself away from him without tapping into Parker’s strength. You could’ve sent him flying out the window, if you wanted. But you’re being diplomatic, and you’re trying to do the goddamn mission, so you don’t. 

“Don’t grab me.” You snap, and Barnes scowls.

“I was helping you-“

“Did I ask you to?”

“No.” He narrows his eyes, taking a firm step forward until you’re almost nose to nose. “But if you die, Sam will yell at me. So be more damn careful.”

The staring contest lasts another minute before Sam’s voice crackles in both your ears, and you have to get back to work. By the time they’re fighting some of Fisk’s men—you’ve been, fucking stupidly, sidelined so as not to blow your cover—Barnes has called you incompetent in ten more ways. You’re too loud. Too smug for someone who’s not doing anything. You’re slowing them down, and he’s stuck babysitting you for your shitty intel—shitty intel that got them here, but he seems to be selectively ignoring that—and you’re too willing to kill people and run into fights with no powers.

He’s used that one a lot, after you’d convinced Fisk to give you a vacation and started to crash with Sam. Barnes has muttered countless times that he can’t believe you’re the woman everyone in New York is afraid of. 

“Who says I have no powers,” you’d snapped after the third low comment, sprawled out on Sam’s couch and watching TV, and Barnes had rolled his eyes.

“Whenever you’re ready to prove you got some, doll, I’m ready.” He’d raised his brows in a silent challenge, holding your glare. “Until then, get off my couch.”

“It’s Sam’s couch. And I’m watching TV.”

“All you fucking do is watch TV, doll, can’t be good for you-“

“Aw,” you’d shot him another sickly-sweet smile. “The old man is worried about my screen time-“

“You’re hogging it.” He’d grunted, ignoring your teasing, and you’d flipped him off.

“Sam doesn’t have any good books, and I’m not allowed to have a phone. What the fuck else am I supposed to do?”

You’d won the argument. Barnes had circled back to you being a waste of space—and you were, but he didn’t know that—and not actually having any powers, so in your eyes, that meant you won.

Because you do have powers. You’ve been saving it for a good moment. Just to prove your point, you’ll use them in a way that blows his stupid fucking mind, and really makes him feel like a dumbass.

That moment comes when one of Fisk’s men is aiming a gun right at his back, he’s turning a little too slow, and Sam is all the way on the other side of the room.

You’re on the ceiling. 

You drop down with the dramatic, fancy landing you’ve been practicing since you got skin-to-skin contact with Parker, and punch the grunt backward into the wall. 

There’s a sickening crack sound from the impact, and it rattles over your ribs and skull. You memorize his face, and add it to your tally. Your graveyard. Another piece of you that will never get to be whole or clean. 

When you turn back to Barnes, he’s staring at you, a look of borderline amusing confusion on his face.

“You-“ He glances up to the ceiling, and shakes his head. “You just fucking killed that guy.”

Your teeth almost snap in your mouth, and you feel a little bit of bile in your throat.

“Obviously.” You mutter, flexing your fist as you let Parker’s powers go dormant once more. “And it saved your life. You’re welcome.”

Barnes narrows his eyes. “I didn’t say thank you-“

“You should work on that, then.” You snap, storming past him as Sam wraps up the last grunt. “It’s rude.”

——————

Your coffee is finally finished, but it’s more bitter than normal on your tongue.

You think you might just miss Bucky, and it’s having a physical effect on your body. 

You need to keep going.

3. He’s bad at using his words.

——————

You jump out of your seat when the book slams down in front of you. 

“What the fuck-“

“Go read.” Barnes grunts, dropping down at your side. “My turn with the TV.”

You gape at him, not bothering to hide the slight amusement in your voice. “Your turn- Are you fucking five-“

“No. Read.”

“I-“

“Read.”

You scowl, and whack him on the arm with the book. “Stop interrupting me, Barnes-“

“Stop calling me Barnes,” he snaps your name in a mocking tone, catching your book before it can land on his arm once more, shoving it fully into your hands. “Go read.”

“I-“ You swallow, watching him wearily, hugging the book to your chest without thought. “What?”

His jaw ticks slightly. “Read-“

“No, why don’t you want me to call you Barnes.”

He’s silent for a long second, staring at the black TV screen with an unreadable expression.

“You call Sam his name.” He finally mutters, something bitter in his voice. “And the spider kid Peter. We’re supposed to be a fucking team. Use my name.”

You narrow your eyes. “You never thanked me for saving your life. Teammates thank each other.”

“That’s your thanks, genius.” He taps the book, still not fully looking at you. “Read it.”

He won that conversation. You don’t have a good response to that, so Bucky won. The asshole.

He buys you five more books in the next two weeks. One for every successful mission. And when you end up with a large gash on your leg, he half shoves you down onto the couch and kneels at your feet, patching it up without a word.

You don’t like the silence. It’s too heavy around your throat.

Only half a second later—like he can hear the stutter in your every breath—Bucky breaks it.

“You didn’t need to jump in front of me.”

“You were going to get shot, dummy.” You snap, crossing your arms and leaning back on the couch. “I did you a favor. Say thank you.”

He doesn’t. He won’t. But you know you’ll get another new book tomorrow, and that’s enough.

“Didn’t know you could get hurt.” He still won’t look up from your leg. “Thought I saw you get shot last week and walk it off.”

“I was ready for that.” You mutter, wincing as Bucky presses the rubbing alcohol to your leg. “This- fuck- I got caught off guard. Won’t happen again.”

He grunts, frowning at your leg. “You’re… selectively invulnerable.”

“If I chose right, yeah.”

That gets him to look at you. There’s the usual confusion clouding his eyes, along with… something else. Something deeper and vaster than the ocean, that’s almost jarring to see. Not frightening. Just different. Strange.

“What the fuck are you?”

His tone isn’t hateful. There’s a strange kind of light in it. Like awe. 

Not awe. 

But like it.

“I’m-“ You swallow, and you haven’t ever really explained it. Once Fisk made you, you just were. Once he figured out what you could do, it was all you did. Nobody asked. They never had to.

Bucky bows his head again, glaring at your leg as he speaks. “You don’t gotta tell me-“

“Shut up. I’m a mimic.”

He looks back up with raised brows, and you take a deep breath before you continue. 

“Fisk created me. Partnered with some crazy scientists, saved me out of a home, and made me into his little pet hero. I can mimic anyone’s DNA, if I touch them skin to skin. It’s just- I only use it on superheroes. Otherwise it’s not really useful.”

Bucky glances down at his gloved hands with a small frown, then back to you. “You stick to the ceiling a lot.”

You nod, and shrug. “I’ve touched Parker, if that’s what you’re asking. That’s how I know who he is. I beat him in a fight, unmasked him, and he was-“ You swallow, a knot tightening and grinding in your stomach, and Bucky finishes for you.

“Just a kid.”

“Just a kid.” You echo. “Couldn’t kill him. Never want to kill any of them. But there’s-“

“Not a choice.” He mutters, and the strange thing in his eyes seems clearer. “Bite down on this.”

You blink at him. “Wha-“

Bucky shoves the glove from his flesh hand into your mouth, and starts the first stitch.

The next day, there’s a phone and a book waiting for you in the kitchen.

——————

It takes too long to come up with the next reason. You get lost in thoughts of how you’ve read that same book a dozen times, and you’d caught Bucky reading your annotations with adorable concentration only a few weeks ago.

He always spends more time reading your thoughts than the actual story.

And it had hit you then, too. You can’t think about that, because it’s making this impossible. You can’t think about how Bucky had fallen asleep reading your annotations and looked adorable, or how the phone he gave you is the same one on the table next you right now. How the case on it is the one you bought as he hung over your shoulder, muttering how phone cases were stupid.

You’d made him show you his phone, after he’d said that. The screen had been cracked and shattered, and it had taken a month to get him to buy another. 

That can be a list point. You’re back on your game.

You almost write stubborn, but you substitute it for something stronger at the last second.

4. He can be controlling

You stare at it for a long moment, because something is off. Bucky can be controlling. He can man-handle you and order you around, his voice low and smooth and the intensity in his eyes a little dizzying-

“Shit.” You mutter under your breath. You messed up again.

Because you’re right.

But, fuck, it turns you on.

——————

“You need to stop fucking doing this,” Bucky mutters your name, his metal arm holding you in place as he pressed another round of rubbing alcohol over your gut. “One day you’re not gonna get lucky.”

You wince, but give him a weak smile. “I got shot, Buck, I wouldn’t call that lucky-“

“You got shot.” He hisses, scowling up at you. “Because you were fucking reckless.”

“I saved you-“

“That is not your job, kid-“

“Then stop almost getting shot!”

“I-“ Bucky lets out a slow breath from between his teeth, shaking his head slowly. “No. That’s my job. You’re not even supposed to be in the field-“

“But I am.” You snap. “And I’m not just going to let you get hurt-“

“You’re not letting me do anything.” He mutters, setting down the bottle as he moves back to the medkit. “You’re done in the field.”

You gape at him, the words too slow to sink it. Bucky said them too casually. He said them like they were his call to make.

“What the fuck are you talking about-“

“You’re not going out there again.” He grunts. His metal hand is still on your leg. “We’re almost done anyway. You’re best for intel.”

“Int-“ You cut yourself off with a scoff, glaring down at him. “You are not my boss, James-“

“No. I’m not.” His jaw ticks slightly. He still won’t meet your eyes. “But if I see you in the field again, I’m handcuffing you to your bed.”

He says that so easily, and a heat you have to ignore pools in your stomach. 

“What the fuck are you talking about.” You hiss, leaning down to try and drag his attention fully to your glare. “I am not going to just sit at home-“

“Yeah.” He grunts, still not looking up. “You are.”

“I told you, you are not in charge of me-“

He snorts. “If I was in charge of you, doll, you’d be on full fucking lockdown.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean-“

“Don’t worry about it-“

“James Barnes. Fucking look at me.”

He tenses, and drag his eyes to yours as if the action pains him. “What.”

“I am going to keep working.” You hiss. “Because it’s my job. And if you’ve got a problem with that-“

He rolls his eyes. “Obviously I have a fucking problem with it. And I’m deadly serious,” he grunts your name, holding your gaze. “You try and go on another mission, you’re getting cuffed.”

“We’re so fucking close, you asshole, you don’t get to bench me now-“

“That exactly why I’m benching you-“

“Because we’re close? What, you worried I’m gonna flee the moment we wrap this up?”

If you were furious with Bucky, you’d be worried he was going to break his jaw. “No.”

“So it’s not because you don’t trust me?” You sneer, and he shoots you of a look practical shock.

“Of course I fucking trust you-“

“Then why Bucky?! You can’t just fucking bench me and not tell me why! This is my fight too, and if you think fucking handcuffs are going hold me-“

“I won’t cuff you if you listen-“

“I won’t listen if you don’t speak fucking clearly-“

“It’s- fuck- It’s because Fisk is going to know it’s you soon!” He roars, and you freeze. You’ve heard him yell before, but not like this. There’s something hot behind it. Something almost pained. “You know what he’ll do when he’s figures out where you went off to?! What you’ve been doing, that you’ve been working with Me and Sam?!”

“I-“

“I’m not gonna be the one they’re aiming at anymore, doll. And they’re gonna be shooting to kill. And what if I’m not fast enough?!” he squeezes your leg, his lips curling as his eyes dart down to the wound ripping open your stomach. “What if they’re shooting you, and you’re not ready, and I’m too fucking slow?!” 

“Bucky-“

“I’ll fucking lose you.” He hisses, and you’re not even sure he knows what he’s saying. “I’m not fucking losing you. I only just goddamn got you, and you are not allowed to bail on me because you’re reckless and stupid.”

He finishes with a long, ragged breath, and you blink at him. Your skin is hot, mouth dry, and it’s as if you’ve been wandering in the desert for a million years. 

You haven’t been, though. 

But nobody’s ever looked at you like that before. With that fervorish awe, and unyielding fury like a tidal wave. Your hands feel clean. For the first time—maybe in years, maybe in your life—you don’t feel any small amounts of blood or grime under your fingernails. It’s that ocean, you think. The one trapped inside of Bucky, that’s slowly been flooding your senses over the past few months. A tide rising with every traded joke and shared book, every mission where he’d trusted you more and more, every story you’d told each other about the heavier, tainted parts of your shadows. 

You move to touch his face without thinking, and his skin is soft. The stubble of his beard is almost grounding—a small, rough reminder that he’s changed since you met him, even if the only obvious part of that is the length of his beard—and he’s looking at you like he’s afraid. Parted lips and blown out eyes as his hand catches your against his face, holding it there as he stares at you with that same fucking awe.

“I’m not losing you.” He repeats the word like they’re a prayer. An oath. “I’m not fucking losing you.”

——————

You need to take a ten-minute break. 

He hadn’t kissed you then. Fucking Sam had interrupted, because you’d been closer to the end than you thought you were. 

Fisk had fallen the next week. He’d never know it was you until he was sitting in a cell, and you spoke to him through the bars.

That had been a… long and confusing day. Bucky had been waiting the entire time. He’d almost killed you the moment you walked out of the cell.

6. He’s bad at reading situations

——————

Your eyes sting.

You don’t know why you’d cried. Fisk had made your life hell. He’d ruined it, and you’d won, and you’d still cried for him.

“You were like a daughter to me,” he’d hummed your name, nothing but sheer fucking disappointment in his eyes. Like you’d failed him. Like he was more hurt for you than angred at your betrayal. “You know, I always loved you for exactly what you were. Nothing more, nothing less.”

You’d only swallowed, any sharp words dying in your throat as Fisk continued.

“Do you think the Winter Soldier will like the reminder? Of who he was before?” Fisk had shaken his head, and sighed as if he’d been mourning you. You’d almost thrown up on the tile floors. “No, not as you are. And you don’t change, my girl. You’re not meant for… soft things. You could’ve ruled the world and now… You’ll be nothing. Alone.”

You’d found the words to cut back, somehow, but you don’t remember them. You only remember the knot in your stomach and bile in your throat. 

You hope you’d held the tears until you were hunched over the toilet. You’d only just managed the vomit.

And you hadn’t reacted, when Bucky had come up behind you. You want to think it was because you were off your game.

It was probably just because it was Bucky.

He’d held your hair from your face. He’d rubbed your back with the metal hand, and it had eased your breathing too fast. And when you’d finally sat up, he’d pulled you into his chest like you were something delicate.

Fisk’s words are too loud in your head. Your voice, when you finally speak, is too soft.

“This is the women’s room, Buck.” You mumble, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “Don’t think you’re supposed to be in here.”

“’S fine.” He shrugs, the movement shifting you slightly against him, settling you more comfortably in his hold. “You’re here. This is where I’ll be until someone moves me.”

You hum, pressing your face to his shoulder, as if you can’t fucking help it. “Miss me that much?”

He grunts, and you could swear you feel him nod. “Needed to talk to you.”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a long pause, and when you lean back, he’s staring again. 

You think he’s going to rip you apart. At least then, maybe, he’ll keep some of you in his pocket. A little bit, to always be held like this.

“Bucky-“

“Go on a date with me.”

——————

Number seven is easy. Number seven flows right off of six, because you’d said yes like you were only breathing—even as all the air in the world became too thin, and you almost passed out from the branding focus of Bucky’s gaze—and Bucky had grinned like he’d never seen the sun before, and now it was shining just for him.

It had been cute.

Too many parts of Bucky could be cute.

7. He can be unbelievably sweet at the worst possible times.

——————

You’re going to strangle him. 

The date was perfect. Horribly perfect. Impossibly perfect. Fairy tale, romance movie, only-exists for valentine’s day propaganda perfect.

Bucky bought you flowers. A big bouquet of yellow roses, because he knows how much you both hate red. You went to a fancy restaurant, and walked in the park for five hours just holding hands like idiots, until he was spinning you around and swaying you in his arms, and you were giggling.

You don’t giggle. You didn’t even know you could make that sound. 

But Bucky had guided you through a romantic, smooth dance—his body warm around yours, nothing to see you in the dark but his bright eyes and the slowly clouding night sky—and you’d giggled. He’d smelled like pine aftershave, a deep, slightly spicy cologne, and something earthier that was just Bucky, and you’d giggled.

You’d been vulnerable. In public, in the dark, in the open. But Bucky had been there, and there had been a secure feeling over your skin like the sky could split open with fire and hail, and you’d be alright. Bucky was there, so you’d always be alright.

And you’d giggled.

It was dangerous. It was dangerous when he’d kissed your cheek after handing you the flowers, standing in your doorway as if you didn’t fucking live together. It was dangerous when he held your car door open, and when he helped you into the seat at the restaurant. When he took your hand like touching you was the most natural thing in the world, and started to dance as if that had been what he’d been planning to do the whole time.

Given the small smirk on his lips when the first giggle had escaped you, it might have been. 

But the most dangerous thing had been when it had started to rain, and he’d picked you up. Hauled you into his arms without a grunt and run you into an all-night coffee shop, keeping his body folded over yours as if you’d melt into a puddle if he didn’t shield you from the world.

You’d found a little table, ordered some drinks, and lost track of time.

He was so handsome, with messy, wet hair and eyes bluer than the rain could ever hope to be. He was warmer than the heater of the coffee shop. 

You knew he’d taste better than the small scone he’d bought you, too.

And then again, like he could read your fucking mind, he’d shaken his head.

“We’re not doing that tonight,” he’d drawled your name, grinning at you from across the table, and you’d blinked at him.

“I-“

“We will.” He’d shrugged. “Trust me on that, I’ve- Shit- We will. But not tonight.”

You blinked at him, shaking your head slowly. “Bucky-“

“We’re not fucking, doll.”

And now you were here. About to kill him.

“I never said we were-“

“Didn’t have to.” He shoots you a wink, bumping your knee with his under the table. “Saw it all over your face, baby.”

“You-“ You swallow, and he can’t fucking do that. It’s not fair. He can’t say no sex tonight and then wink and call you baby. That’s not fair. “I- Why?”

Your words are almost a whine, and Bucky’s grin widens. It’s too adorable, too gleeful and affectionate, and his knuckles are brushing against your hand and he smells so good-

“I want that to be its own thing. This is our first date. We’re doing number two because this was fun and we,” he gestures between your bodies, watching you carefully. “Work. Not cause I fuck you until you can’t walk.”

He finishes with a shrug, and even though he’s still grinning—he knows exactly what those last words did you to, the asshole—there’s something firmer in his voice that tells you he’s being serious. 

That’s annoying. And sweet. So fucking sweet.

So you let it go.

“Aw.” You give him a teasing smile, pressing your thighs together to relieve just a little bit of your need from his attention. “You think we work?”

“Yeah. I do.” He’s staring at you again. You might have started something you can’t finish. “Do you?”

You swallow, and lying feels pointless. You’re trapped. He’s handsome and amazing and he’s not going to fuck you, but he promised he would later, and you’re trapped. 

“Yeah.” You whisper, and you don’t know when you started holding his hand again. You don’t really care to let go. “I do.”

——————

This isn’t working anymore.

All you can think about is how that might have been the moment. The one where something sparked and grew and razed through your body, reshaping your organs and tissue to all mold a little better for Bucky. He’d said I do like it was the easiest thing in the world. Less of an answer to a question and more of a statement.

There had been a finality to it. Like that was all he’d ever have to know again. You were all he’d ever have to know.

He’d made promises and kept them. You’d remained warm every time it had stormed, and through the following winter, and it was because that had been the moment and this strategy isn’t fucking working.

Bucky had told you later, and now that later is all you can think about. Bucky is all you can think about, and every single thing you cast to mar the picture of him in your head just makes it stronger. Makes every memory sharper, every thought of Bucky in your head more beautiful.

8. He’s perfect. It’s impossible.

——————

You don’t know exactly how you got here. There were flowers involved, and a dark theatre, and Bucky had whispered something low in your ear that made you gape at him in the dark, and then he’d kept his hand on your thigh the rest of the night, and the whole world had become unbearable hot.

It’s only a haze now. A big, warm haze that’s cooled by one metal hand on your hip as you burn and burn and burn, and Bucky hasn’t even done anything yet. But he’s been teasing you. Keeping you pinned cruelly under his body for what feels like hours, kissing and sucking over your neck and slotting his knee between your thighs, letting you grind against him and pull at his hair until you were whining for more, you need more-

“Think you can take more, baby?” He murmurs against your lips, and you don’t know if he’s doing the anticipating thing again, or just teasing you a little more. “You even know what you want?”

He uses your responding moan to push his tongue down your throat, kissing you heavy and long and deep. 

And Bucky’s kissed you before. A lot. There had been one, world-making kiss that had grown into an addiction, becoming kisses in the corner of every room and against the wall of every hallway, into the cushions of the couch until Sam groaned and walked away—promising to never come over for movie night again—and right up to every edge, but never further.

Bucky seems to be under the impression that he needs to be a gentleman. That there needs to be a right moment to stop pulling away with heavy, shallow breaths, swollen lips, and flushed faces. That he needs written permission to go further.

You’d given him that permission this morning. You’d slid him a small paper over the counter, and when he’d read it, he’d raised his brows at you in amusement.

“This says fuck me.”

“Yep.” You’d hummed, holding his gaze as you’d taken a large bite of your banana.

It had been a warfare strategy. It had seemed to work then—his eyes had darkened, nostrils flaring and fist closing around the paper as he stared at you—but you know it’s worked now.

Because this kiss is different. It’s another, newer tidal wave that’s all thirst. Desire.

Need.

Bucky’s holding himself by a tether. You can feel it when you bite his lower lip, he groans down your throat, and his hips jerk forward. 

“You’re- Shit-“ Bucky grunts as you suck a small, dark mark on his jaw. “You gotta be sure, doll, I can’t-“

“I’m sure.” You whisper, leaning back to hold his gaze. He looks almost nervous, and it makes your brow furrow slightly. “Buck, are you-“

He crashes his mouth back down to yours, his metal hand playing with the hem of your skirt. 

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” He mutters, pulling back to scan over you once more. “I’m- If we’re doing this, I’ve gotta be- I need to-“

“I know.”

He blinks at you. “You do? How- Sam.”

You giggle slightly at Bucky’s violent glower—you’ve been doing that a frightening amount lately—and raise a hand to trace over his jaw.

“He says he- uh- Heard you. Once. Months ago. And it’s okay.”

He shakes his head, still watching you with that caution. “I- It doesn’t have to be, doll, I know that your past isn’t all sunshine and daises and bein’ in control either-“

“I- I’ve had to do most everything for myself. For survival.” You whisper, tracing your thumb over his cheek. “I’ve never had- I trust you. And with what Sam mentioned-“

“Gonna fuckin’ kill him-“

“I don’t think it’s as dramatic as you think.” You finish, ignoring Bucky’s muttered threat.

His jaw ticks slightly, his words suddenly so low you can barely hear them. “If it’s too much, you gotta tell me-“

“I can take it.”

Bucky sighs your name, and you shove his chest. Not hard. Enough to move him. Jolt him. Make him look at you with wide, shocked eyes.

“You-“

“I can take it, Buck.” You grin at him, raising your brows pointedly. “I’ve got you.”

His eyes widen as he understands—you’ve got him, his strength and durability mirrored in your body—and there’s a slight shift in the air. It’s hot. Everything is suddenly so hot under Bucky’s attention, expect for the cold, metal hand, trailing under your skirt and cupping you over right over your aching pussy.

“Fuck, you’re wet, doll.” The awe has creeped from Bucky’s eyes to his voice. You can only grind against his fingers teasing over your slit, and moan when a metal thumb starts to rub firm, rough circles over your clit. “And no panties on? All fuckin’ night, just waitin’ for me?”

“Yes,” you moan, our hips jolting when he pinches your clit lightly, a high whine leaving your throat. “Bucky-“

“That’s my name.” He mutters, resting those two fingers right against your pussy, his eyes never leaving yours. “If you’re already so wet, I wonder what’ll happen when I do this?”

With that last word, Bucky slams the metal fingers into your cunt, and starts to finger fuck you like it’s a mission. It’s so fast. Metal whirring in your ear as the pace becomes impossible and mind-numbing, hitting you so fucking deep, almost massaging and taunting at the sensitive spot, and it’s only just started but you’re already going to explode-

“Bucky-“ You moan out his name, trying to somehow meet every thrust of his fingers with your hips, but only managing to grind your clit against his wrist and sending your brain into a dizzying blur of pleasure. “God, I- Close, Bucky, so close-“

“Hold it.” He grunts, not letting up pace, and you almost whimper at the idea. “Need you to hold it for me, baby, can you do that?”

You can’t. 

You nod anyway, because Bucky’s still here, still holding you and touching you and looking at you, so you have to try. For Bucky, you need to try.

“Good girl.” He mutters, and you clench around him with a squeak. “Oh, you like that? Like me talkin’, tellin’ you how good your doing-“

“Oh- Fuck-“ You gasp, your back arching off the bed as he somehow hits deeper. “Please, I- God-“

He hums, dropping his weight slightly to keep you pinned to the bed. “Say my name, doll.”

“Buck-“

“No.” His voice is slightly softer, and he leans down to hover his lips right over yours. “Other one.”

“I-“ You take shallow breathes, each one rounded with another moan as you search Bucky’s face for the answer, and his fingers never slow their movements. “Please-“

“C’mon, baby, you’ve got it-“

“James!” You half scream it, writhing under him in desperation for release, and start to repeat it like a prayer as his eyes shine in approval, and his cock twitches against your thigh. “James- James please, I- I need it- Need you-“

He swallows your words with another deep kiss, squeezing your hip with his free hand as he mutters against your lips. 

“There you go, babydoll.” He smirks at your whimper, his eyes trained on yours as you give him another, pleading look and whisper of his name. “Cum for me.”

The sound that leaves you is undignified, needy and loud and made of slurred curses and shouts of James. But you can see the stars, and feel them bursting through your body, and it’s all just good.

When you come down, Bucky’s brushing your hair from your eyes, looking down at you with that same wide awe everywhere over his handsome features.

“Was that good?”

You hum, still panting heavily, and he raises his brows. 

“More?”

You nod a little stupidly, and Bucky’s grin splits his face.

“Already so fucked out you can’t speak? Haven’t even pulled out my cock yet-“

You moan into his mouth at just the word. “Bucky, please-“

“Please what?” He pulls back entirely, and chuckles when you slam your hand into his chest with a glare.

“Hey-“

“You gotta tell me what you want, babydoll, and I’ll get it for you. But,” he raises his brows, catching your hand when you try to shove him once more and pinning it over your head. “I’m not a mind reader. Tell me.”

You think that’s a lie. You think he can read your mind, and he’s just being mean.

But God, it’s so fucking hot. His shirt is gone—you don’t know when that happened, but you’re not complaining—and he’s looking at you like you’re art, laid out for him to see and touch and have, so you’ll play along. If it will make him finally fuck you, you’ll do whatever he asks.

“I want your cock.” You whisper, holding his gaze. “Want you to fuck me, and I’m clean and on the pill, so I want you to cum inside of me, then leave it there. Wanna feel you tomorrow, James, please.”,

Bucky’s throat bobs slightly, his voice becomes barely a growl.

“Jesus Christ.”

He seems to be done talking after that.

Your hand stay pinned over your head as he rips off your shirt, then his own boxers. There’s a half-grumble of buying you another bra tomorrow, but it’s all you get before he’s ripping that off as well.

When he lines himself up at your entrance, he pauses, giving you one last chance to shove him away. 

You tangle your hand in his hair and shove his lips to yours without hesitation, moaning his name into his mouth, and it’s enough.

Bucky slams himself into you with one thrust, diving his mouth to suck and lick at your nipples as you gasp, adjusting to the feeling of him inside of you.

It’s perfect. Big and thick and full, you feel so full, and you’re going to fly out of your skin if he keeps flicking his tongue over your nipple like, throbbing inside of you but not moving-

He can definitely read your mind. Before you can even moan a plea, Bucky starts to drill into you without warning, and any noise turn into more of those loud, desperate pleas. 

It rough. Bed creaking and skin slapping, and he keeps tossing you around like no angle is deep enough, flipping you over to fuck you from behind so his balls are slapping against your clit and he’s kissing up your spine, before he’s hauling you up to his chest, wrapping his arm around your stomach to hold you still as he drills up into your cunt,  and biting and marking along your throat and jaw. You throw your head back on his shoulder, and he captures your lips in a long, searing kiss, rolling a nipple between his fingers. 

Then you’re back on your stomach, with his weight completely covering you and his grunts right in your ear, sending shivers up your spine. 

He pauses only for a second there, thrusts slowing as he grabs at your hips, and before you can ask him if he’s okay, if it’s too much or—worse—not enough, you’re moving again.

Bucky rolls over, tossing you up onto his lap so you’re grinding down onto his cock, and this is it. You can see it in his hooded, satisfied expression as he watches you bounce above you, his flesh hand wrapping around your throat the metal moves to your clit, rubbing small, furious circles as he groans your name.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, your every word choked as he pounds up into your fluttering, aching pussy. “I- James-“

He grunts, pressing harder as his dick hits that deep, sensitive spot inside of you. “Come on, babydoll, gotta gimme one more-“

This orgasm washes over you like a wave. Deep, easy pleasure that makes everything glow, lingering in your body long after Bucky gives one last, jagged thrust up into your pussy, cumming with a roar of your name.

You both stare at each other for a long second as Bucky releases your throat, his fingers tracing over the marks left by his grip with a furrowed brow, and you smile at him. 

His release is dripping down your thighs as you lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips.  

It’s somehow not enough, and still more than you could ever ask for.

And your smile is a little cock drunk and there’s light bubble up your throat, but you don’t care.

So you giggle. Airy and blissful as Bucky rolls your bodies over so he’s on top once more, and you bury your face in his shoulder. 

He rises over you on his forearm, raising his brows as you smile up at him. “Somethin’ funny?”

You nod, your giggles almost pathetic. You don’t really mind. “Told you I could take it.”

He sighs, but the grin on his face matches yours.

Wide. Stupid.

Happy.

“Yeah.” Bucky mutters, tracing slow fingers only your cheekbone, and the awe seems to be a permanent addition to his voice. “You did.”

——————

When you get back to your table with ice water, people are staring at you. Whispering.

It’s not in your head. You know the difference between paranoia and caution, and this is the latter.

You scan over for an easy target, and land on a skittish looking man with large arms and a gym bag. When you stop at his table, he looks like he’s going to pass out.

“What’s your name.” You keep your voice cool and even, and he swallows.

“Mike.”

“Awesome. Can I please have your phone, Mike?”

He nods, unlocks it before passing it to your hands, and you give him a sweet smile before you scan over his screen, and let out a long sigh.

Sam abused his power. You’ve been declared a missing enhanced. The city hasn’t been barricaded, but everyone in New York knows to be looking for you, and expect Captain America upon response.

You pass Mike his phone back with another grimacing smile, and stalk back to your table and notebook.

9. He can be really fucking dramatic.

——————

You don’t know how Bucky puts up with you. He’s clean. Neat. Does all his dishes and folds his laundry, vacuums the floors and straightens every picture when he fucks you a little too hard against the wall.

You’re… not.

Taking care of yourself has never been important. Never been allowed. Fisk had men who cleaned up after you, because your priority was walk around and be feared. Be the untouchable princess.

Untouchable princesses don’t clean up. Once, at the beginning, you’d tried to help the crew after a particularly messy job.

Fisk had been furious. You’d gotten blood on his favorite toy. 

You’d stopped trying to clean up after that, 

But Bucky never gets angry about it. He’ll wipe your face when you get sauce on your cheek, change your sheets—even though you haven’t slept in your own bed for months—every week, and do your laundry, all while never asking for anything in return. 

This is another night where you don’t understand him. He made your favorite food, even though he had the long day. He’s not meeting your eyes again, but you’ve learned that he only does that when he cares. When there are things inside of him he can’t work out how to say, so he’ll keep his gaze averted like he’s trying to shield himself from being seen.

He isn’t aware he does that. You only know because you know him. Because he sits across from you like this every night, and wakes up next to you every single morning, and presses his brow to yours—keeping his eyes closed, but his hands on your face delicate—every single day. He’s with you all the time, even when he’s across the city, so you know him and you-

“Move in with me.”

You blink at him in the low light of your shitty dining room. It’s all plastic table and fold-out chairs, because neither of you are good at having nice things and keeping them.

He might be the nicest thing you’ve ever had.

You don’t understand what the fuck he’s talking about.

“What?”

“I- We should move in.” He pokes his plate, frowning at it like he can will it to understand, and explain to you properly. “Together. You and me.”

“Buck, we already live together-“

“In a shit apartment Sam found us.” He grumbles. “In two separate bedrooms. With plastic furniture and a dead plant.”

You sigh. “I told you I’m not good at plants when you got it. I wanted a cat, but-“

“Our lease doesn’t allow it.” Bucky shoots you a pointed look, leaning further over the table. “If we moved in together, I’d get you that cat. I’d get you whatever you wanted.”

“Bucky-“

“Fresh start.” He grunts your name, and you swallow. This is a little stronger than the awe gaze. This is borderline hope, and it’s so rare on his handsome face, and he has you folding for him in a second, but he keeps going anyway. “You and me. We’ll get a nicer couch without any blood on it, and eat off plates that aren’t paper, and- We can get the cat, or two cats- fuck, twenty cats-“

A small smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. “Twenty is a lot, darling-“

“Then one. One is good.” He has the solemn, focused gaze and tone he uses when he’s planning a mission. He’d stood up and crossed his arms. This is serious. “No more plants. I can- Sam will help me build all he furniture, I’ll get you a desktop, and I can have the smaller one, cause you always get annoyed when I break it-“

“It’s called a laptop.” You offer, keeping your voice softer than you’ve ever been capable of with anyone else. “And I don’t get annoyed-“

“Yes, you do. ’S fine, I deserve it-“

“No, you don’t-“

“That’s not the point, doll-“

“It’s important to me.” You snap, and that gets him to stop. “You’re important to me, and I don’t get annoyed. It’s not your fault your bags are always getting smashed-“

He scowls. “I’m the one who smashes them.”

“Because other people are fucking idiots, and you’re good at your job. You don’t deserve me being annoyed, and I’m not, because you’re-“ You swallow, words you don’t fully understand yet getting caught on the edge of your tongue. “You’re important to me, Buck. You’re a good man. You deserve good things.”

He blinks at you, and the hope is almost a tangible, touchable thing on his face. “Move in with me.”

“You already asked me that-“

“Please.” He mutters, and suddenly he’s on his knees before you, his arms around your waist as he stares up at you. “Wherever you want. It’ll be ours, and I’ll keep it clean if you make it beautiful.”

“Bucky-“

“You- fuck-“ He drops his brow to your lap, and you’re trying to tell him yes, but he seems to be trapped in his own head. All you can do is run your fingers through his hair and let him ride it out. “You make everything so beautiful, you just- You- Please. I’ll never ask ya’ for anything again. Move in with me.”

“Okay.”

He blinks up at you with wide eyes. “I- That’s it? Just like that?”

“Yeah.” You smile at him, and it’s hurting your cheeks, but it’s the best pain you’ve ever felt. “You gonna let me up now?”

He nods slowly, but pauses before he stands, and throws you over his shoulder without warning.

“Bucky-“

“C’mon,” He start to move towards his bedroom, ignoring your squirming. “You’re- Got plans for you, babydoll.”

“We have all night, you dramatic asshole-“

“You love it.” He mutters with a squeeze of your thigh, and you have to stop pounding on his back to moan. “And if it were up to me, we’d never stop doin’ this. Never gonna waste one fucking second with you. Ever.”

——————

He’ll be here soon. Someone will have had the balls to report where you were, Bucky will burst through the doors, and you’ll have to know that this didn’t work. That you probably drove him insane and beat your heart to sinew, only to come out of this knowing that you failed. 

You have your answer, and it’s the one that’s terrifying. The floor could open into a trench, and the sky could catch fire, but that would be easier.

This is new. This is dangerous and frightening and new, and there’s nothing you can do about it, because you failed. There are no paths forward that you know how to follow, no corners of the world you can hide where you wouldn’t find yourself crawling back to Bucky.

And he’d meet you halfway, because he’d be looking for you, and then he’d pull you into his arms you’d be safe.

Safe and cared for and clean, and awfully, greatly in love.

10. You love him, and that’s not fair.

——————

He sleeps peacefully now. At your side, on the memory foam mattress you made him pick out, wrapped around you like he’s trying to pull you into his body. The sheets are tangled and smell a little like sweat and cum, but nobody seems to mind. Even Alpine has settled at the foot of the bed, on Bucky’s side, because she likes him better. 

Of course she likes him better. You picked her because she has the exact same blue eyes as he does, and you feed her, but she likes him more because he’s Bucky.

And this suits him, far more than you think it could ever suit you. 

Because this is what he would’ve been. If Bucky had never fallen off that train, he’d have simply been this. 

Happy. 

Peaceful in the soft, golden-white light of the morning, holding a perfect, faceless woman. She’d clean up after him, and make him food that didn’t taste like ash. He’d never have the nightmares that still sometimes rock him now, but he’d have worse nights—he’d still been a solider, still fought a war—and she’d only give him comfort. Never demand it in return, nights later when she woke up screaming. 

And she’d have less opinions, and never make him worried because she kept getting shot, and she’d giggle all the time. Not just when he pried it out of her with dancing and fucking. 

She would’ve been easy. She wouldn’t have made him read with her, and she would’ve let him get twenty cats. 

You hate her more than anything.

But it would’ve been what Bucky deserves. Has always deserved.

The exact same one you don’t.

You never would’ve been here. Fisk found you in the dirt, and you hadn’t been a lovely, blooming beam of sunlight before he turned you into a weapon. Bucky had earned all his sneers and snarks and scowls.

You’re just like this. 

And you somehow have him, in a way you can’t lose. Won’t lose. You’d do anything for Bucky, you’d kill and maim and scratch and scream and rip yourself to fucking pieces just for him, before stitching yourself back together with your heartstrings, because they’d still be beating in a sound like his name, because you-

No. 

Oh no. 

That can’t be right. You don’t- you’ve never had that. That’s too good. 

You don’t deserve that.

You’ll break it.

——————

You wait outside for him. Bouncing on your feet as people shoot you odd looks in passing. You expect sirens. Being turned over and checked from every angle, because this had been a really stupid thing to do when you were you. A problem. An asset until you flipped. An enemy so easily, and an insufferable ally to have.

Bucky still puts up with you. But you think he knows you’d never flip on him. He trusts that the same instinct that made you run from Fisk is the one that will always send you back to him.

It’s been nine hours, and you miss him like you’re drowning. Like you can see the sun, right above the surface, but you can’t remember how to go up.

You can only drift, and wait for blaring red lights that will carry you home.

They never come. And when you feel a tap on your shoulder you don’t flinch, because you know that tap anywhere. The pressure and shape of the finger, the exact placement near the cartilage, always leaving a slight brand of his touch.

“What’re you doing, baby.” Bucky mutters, and you let out a long breath, turning to give him a weak smile.

He’s staring again.

You love it when he does that.

“Hi,” You whisper, and he drops his brow to yours for a long second, right before pulling you right into his chest without a second of hesitation.

You’d thought he’d be angrier. You’re a little sick of being wrong.

“Why-“ He takes a heavy breath, squeezing you a little tighter. “You wouldn’t pick up the phone.”

“I turned it off.” You mumble. You don’t think you can stand to lie to him like this. You’ve already done enough. “I- Can we go inside, please?”

Bucky leans back with a tight frown, scanning over you once more. “Did something-“

“I’m okay.” You duck your head back into his chest, and you understand why he never meets your eyes in moments like this. It’s far easier. “I promise. I just, this will be easier if we sit down, please.”

You can feel him tense against your body, but he guides you inside regardless. Right back to the table you’d been at before, even if he doesn’t know that.

People might be staring. 

You don’t really care. You don’t have the energy for it. Everything has to go into this. Into telling him before it’s too late, and you either lose him or, worse, he stays. He keeps tolerating you, not knowing that you’d grow a forest on the moon if he asked—just to hide somewhere safe and quiet, together—and turn the sun into something portable for his back pocket, just so he’d never have to fear ice again.

Bucky says your name slowly, glancing around the shop. “Is this where we had our first-“

“Yeah.” You fumble with your bag, your hands already shaking slightly, and Bucky notices.

Of course he does.

Perfect fucking asshole.

“Are you sure you’re okay, cause I can make Sam call 911 again-“

“Don’t make Sam call 911.” The paper is crumpled, and ripped at the corners. It will have to do. “I’m okay. I- I’m going to be okay.”

That last one is mostly for yourself—no matter how fast Bucky leaves, no matter how much your heart screams, you’ll be okay—but he still hears it, and his frown deepens.

He grunts your name, leaning forward in his seat, and you shake your head.

“Just- take this.“ You slide the paper across the table, watching sleek, black fingers rest on the edge, but not tug it further. “Please.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, but he listens. You look up just in time to see him scanning over your words, and the lump in your throat might choke you. 

At least it will be over quicker. 

“What is-“ He cuts himself off, and you can’t look away. It’s worse than a car crash. It’s a missile, hurdled straight for your head as you’re rooted in place, bracing for the impact but knowing it will tear you apart all the same. 

You know the moment he reaches the last point. His eyes widen, and flick up to you in disbelief. 

He reads it three more times before he sets down the paper, and maybe the lump in your throat is your heart. Maybe it’s trying to beat out of your body and run in the gutters, before it can be broken and shattered and-

“You-“ Bucky places the paper flat on the table, and points to that like. “Is that- You mean it?”

You nod weakly, still starting at his finger on the paper—it might be one of the last part of him you get to see, and you’re trying to memorize it—and Bucky clears his throat. 

“Can you look at me?”

It takes a second. Ragged, slow breaths and Bucky’s knee, bumping yours under the table. 

But you do.

And he’s still so beautiful. 

You can see the awe in his eyes. It shouldn’t be there. It doesn’t- not now-

“I love you, too.” He says, and it’s more powerful than the missile. It’s an atomic bomb. “You’re- It’s the only thing I’ve really known, since I got back. You’re the only thing I’ve known-“

The world is starting to sting and blur. Your heart is trying to claw out of your throat. “Bucky-“

He shakes his head, pushing on. “Listen to me, doll, for once in your damn life. I love you. No one but me talking, telling no one but you, I love you. I have been to fucking hell and back, I’d do it all again, every damn time, if there was even a chance it would get me here.”

“That’s- That doesn’t make any sense-“

“Course it does.” He shrugs. “I’m not the me that loves you if I don’t fall off that train and end up in the future.”

“It’s not the future-“

“It’s the future to me-“

“James, we are not having this argument again. It’s not-“

“Is to me.”

There’s that rare, small grin he saves only for you. This is cruel. 

“You- I’m not worth hell.” You whisper, and you’re holding his hand. You don’t know when that happened. You’re not strong enough to pull away.

“Yeah, you are.” 

“Bucky, I’m being-“

“I know you’re being serious, doll. So am I. And I know I’m,” he taps the paper, giving you a pointed look. “Bad at using my words-“

You swallow. “I’m sorry, I-“

"You’re not wrong.” He mutters, still all but trapping his gaze on yours. “But I got words for this, baby. I love you. Hell and back.”

“Bucky, you don’t-“ 

“What, love you?” He raises his brows. “You somehow miss that part of my shitty ass speech-“

“It wasn’t shitty-“

“Kinda shitty. Didn’t seem to get through to you.”

“I-“

“Just- Listen.” He leans forward, still holding your gaze. “Would you do it again?”

“Do-“

“Would you walk through your hell, Fisk and the scientist, Parker and that asshole with the horns that made you blind for a week, Sam and me and all the court trials, if you thought we’d end up back here, at this horrible fucking coffee shop, one more time?”

“Yes.” 

It’s not a question. You’d do everything, every time, the exact same way, if it meant you’d maybe get Bucky one more time.

And that’s mirrored on his face. Smug, quiet satisfaction as he grins at you, and shrugs.

“There it is.”

You return his smile because it’s easy. You keep holding his hand because he’s not letting go, so you’ll never even bother to try. 

You echo his words because he’s right. Maybe the only right thing in the whole universe, right across the table, touching you, and all yours.

“There it is.”

End Note: Love throwing in a bunch of tiny easter eggs for purely my own entertainment. Also love throwing a little plot relevant smut in there, as a treat.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist (Fill out this form to be added!)

@globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr @Youdontknowe @panicking-outside-the-disco @ambiguous-avery

@generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007 @ilovedeanwinchester4 @tiana-kh @woaheasytig3r

@winchester-whiskey @jsudsgf @deans-yn @jofinka @megara0224

@funkenniffler @disappearintofanfiction @solsborg @sheneedsjesus @bonkydarnes

@whimsicalcherry @charliethemanticore @cats-chaotic-mind @forzalando @roseblue373

@sleepysongbirdsings @angrydragon90 @dumbwhorestuff @biodegradable-glitter-fest @idontwannabehere78

@miss-marmalade @foolinthera1n

[willowsandsymphonies]

It's easy to get caught in the loop of Improvement. Every day waking up like "what can I do today to be better?" Then surrounding yourself with all things self-improvement, meanwhile cycling through endless relentless guilt that things aren't changing because fear still holds you back from taking action. The only way to get out of that cycle is to start making small adjustments in your day-to-day life. The changes may be very terrifying and may feel really big, but break it down into smaller, more manageable pieces.

For example if you're trying to help with social anxiety, take a leap of faith and text someone or make conversation with someone you normally wouldn't. If you want to say something when surrounded by friends, then don't stay quiet, say it!! Let yourself be heard. Or maybe if you wanna try to learn to write but fear failure, try to get yourself to a point where you can relax and then try it. Worst case scenario you mess up? You can try again and you will try again because you're NOT staying stuck in this damn loop!!

You gotta almost force yourself to make the change that you want to see. Change your patterns and observe your thoughts. And allowing yourself the grace to make mistakes and say and do "the wrong thing." We are all here to make mistakes so we can learn how to do better, there is no such thing as perfection or "the right thing." It's just you.

Rethink the stories you tell about yourself to others, the stories you tell to yourself about others, and the ones you tell yourself about yourself. No average person is going to judge or look at you or care that your fly was down or something, most people are so caught up in themselves and paying attention to what they're doing that they're not gonna care. No one judges you more than you, so release it with deep breaths and keep your focus on what's in front of you. There is no need to be so hard on yourself for just existing, you are allowed to just BE. We are just consciousness experiencing itself, cut yourself some damn slack!

Stop insulting yourself, even when joking, your brain can't tell the difference and the more you reaffirm those thoughts into your mind, the deeper embedded the feeling and thought will be and the harder it will be to break out of it. You're not stupid or ugly or terrible or unworthy or anything other bs negative thing you beat yourself up with. What would happen if a friend of yours was feeling that way, what would you say to them?? Talk to yourself and treat yourself like you're taking care of a friend. You are piloting the meat suit we call bodies, be the companion and cheerleader of your own life.

No more 'I can't's, stop holding yourself back!! If the assholes of the world don't give a fuck how they present themselves to others and have the audacity to say and do the things they do in public settings, then damnit you have a right to take up space and allow your voice to be heard. Anyone who genuinely judges either sucks or just isn't your kind of human and that's okay. Judgmental people come from a place of their own sad insecurity and repressed shame of their own, they're cruel because it's a front and it says a hell of a lot more about them than you. Fuck em.

Changing is being, changing is choosing to do better rather than planning on changing. You get to control what you do and who you become. You are not your thoughts or your body, you are who you choose to be.

[firewasabeast]

Three Simple Words

needed to get this out before Thursday happens lol

“It’s been a while since we’ve done breakfast, just the two of us,” Maddie said, setting a container of cream cheese on the table. “Although, seeing as you brought a half dozen homemade bagels I can tell not much has changed.”

Buck ignored her, eyes settling on the scar that ran across her neck. “How are you doing, Maddie?”

Maddie cleared her throat, adjusting the collar of her shirt slightly. “I’m fine, Buck, really,” she replied, giving him a reassuring smile. “Now, what’s been up with you lately? Please tell me you’re doing more than baking in your free time.”

He grabbed a bagel and set it on his plate. “I- I am. I went out the other night t- to this book group thing. It was nice. Fun. Met some cool people.”

“Well, that’s good. Have you heard from Eddie at all?”

“A couple times. I don’t think things are going too great there.”

“Mm,” Maddie hummed. “Tough situation, I’m sure.”

“Yeah.” Buck squirmed in his seat a bit, ripping off a piece of his bagel and taking a bite. “I, uh, I ran into Tommy at work a couple days ago, actually.”

The alarm bell sounded in Maddie’s head. She hid a smile. Here was the real reason for the emergency breakfast. “Really? Was it awkward?”

“A little, at first, I guess. It- It’s kinda funny,” he said, huffing out a laugh. “For seven years we never seemed to work together at all and now, all of a sudden, th- there he is.”

“Well,” Maddie beckoned, curiosity piqued, “did you talk to him?”

“Y- Yeah, we talked a little bit. I, um, well we both kinda at the same time asked if we could talk, s- so I invited him over to the new place.”

“And he came?”

Buck’s eyes widened slightly as he choked down his next bite. “Um, yeah. H- He came over.”

“Did you talk?”

“We, uh, we started to. I- I thought it would be a good opportunity for closure, you know? We could say all the things we didn’t get to say before. But...”

God, it was like pulling teeth today. “But?”

“But then he was on my couch,” Buck replied, a blush rising on his cheeks. “And he was wearing the black button down with his sleeves rolled up. And he kept looking at me with his eyes-”

Maddie shook her head. “Oh, Evan.”

“Y- You don’t understand, Maddie,” he said, his tone pleading. “Those eyes; he looked at me a- and I forgot everything I had in my head to say to him. The next thing I know, we’re in bed.”

Maddie picked up her mug, taking a big sip of coffee before asking, “So, what, you had a one night stand with your ex?”

“Oh, well, um, I- I mean yeah it happened that night, but it also happened the next morning.”

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. “Okay.”

“An- And then that afternoon,” Buck continued with a shrug. “He’s s- supposed to come over later too.”

“Buck, I…” Maddie paused, trying to think of the right way to phrase her question. “I know you’re an adult, and you can do whatever you want, but… is this what you want?”

His cocked his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed. “Wh- What do you mean?”

“I mean.” She sighed. “I mean you two were pretty serious, right? You saw a future with him. And now, it’s what? You hook up and that’s it?”

“It’s… I don’t know, it just happened, Maddie.”

“Three times, so far,” Maddie reminded him. “Listen,” she reached out, placing her hand over his, “I just want to make sure you’re happy, Evan. That’s all I care about. I- If you’re happy with this arrangement, then that’s great, but… are you?”

Buck stared down at his bagel. Bagels that he started working on the second Tommy left. Kept working on them even after he’d lost the battle with his mind and ended up texting him to come back over again soon. He’d held his breath when the text bubbles appeared. Kept holding it until Tommy had texted him back with a thumbs up.

His shoulders slumped. “I just- I don’t know what to do, Maddie. I asked him to move in with me, ya know? I- I love him and he dumped me and now we- we’re just doing this weird friends with benefits thing, I guess. And i- it feels good at the time-- I mean, really good-”

Maddie held up her hand. “Fast forward, Buck.”

He sighed. “But afterward, it’s hurts. I want more than sex. I- I want everything.”

“Have you told him this?”

“Of course I told him I wanted him to move in, Maddie. You know that.”

She rolled her eyes. “I mean the “I love you” part, Evan.”

He thought for a second, face pensive. “Well, he has to know, right? I- I mean, you don’t just ask someone to move in if you don’t love them.”

“That very much does happen,” Maddie answered, nodding her head for emphasis. “It happens all the time, and that’s probably exactly what Tommy thought was occurring in that situation.”

“I- but, I… I thought it was implied.”

Maddie followed Buck’s eyes, making sure he was looking straight at her as she spoke. “Buck, you need to talk to him.”

“I’ve been trying,” Buck pouted.

“Have you? Because it sounds like you’ve been doing everything except talking. If you can’t figure out a way to keep your hands off of each other in private, then ask him out for coffee or lunch or something. But you need to actually talk about this.”

Buck pursed his lips. “What if it’s not what he wants though? What if he runs away again?”

“Then you’ll know for sure that you two want different things. But, until you have that talk, you’re going to be stuck in this limbo for who knows how long.” She lifted her hand, pinky pointed up toward him. “You’ll talk to him?”

He nodded, wrapping his pinky around hers. “I’ll talk to him.”

*****

Buck thought back to his and Maddie’s conversation as he and Athena chased after Tommy's helicopter. He was still trying to put all the pieces together. Tommy had called him, just a few hours earlier. A staticky conversation happening over the line. Buck thought it was a butt dial at first, but when he heard yelling he stayed on the phone. Then he heard Tommy mention weapons, and taking him instead of the other hostages. He heard Tommy say that he was the pilot, and he could get them out of there.

Calling Athena, meeting her at Tommy’s last known location, getting in her SUV to try and beat these criminals or terrorists to wherever they were going, that was all a blur.

Because Buck hadn’t kept his promise. Not yet.

Tommy had come over, and Buck’s words died on his tongue. Fear took over, and then Tommy’s mouth was on his, and everything felt right again.

This continued for weeks, with Buck telling himself that the next time would be when he finally told Tommy the truth. The next time is when he’d have the courage.

And now it was hitting him.

There may not be a next time.

And he may never get to tell Tommy that he loves him.

His head whipped up toward the sky when Athena gasped, and that’s when he realized what was happening.

The helicopter was hurtling right towards the ground.

[tomsparkyr]

𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐅𝐋𝐘!

following episode one of 'inside' — george clarke x fem!reader

by any means i do not own 'inside' and all credit is theirs (!!)

wc: 6.4K

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You sat yourself down on the chair placed in the middle of the room, a soft blue and purple light flooding the area. You smiled at the camera in front of you, feeling a little bit nervous at the entire concept of the show; but nonetheless, you still agreed to contribute to it.

It was difficult not to tell your friends about the whole thing, sworn (and to a contract) that you weren’t allowed to tell them you were entering a home with no outside contact for 7 days; only allowed to tell them you were taking a social media break.

Your family knew, obviously. But unable to tell your fellow youtuber friends was tough, because it was so painfully obvious where you were going.

Having to lie to George, Chris and everyone else was awkward. They had arranged plans for the next week and you had to reluctantly say no, because of course, you would much rather be stuck in a home with people you don’t know and then spending money that could potentially be yours.

Clearing your throat, you introduced yourself.

”Hello, my name is Y/N, I’m 24 and I’m a youtuber slash content creator!” You grinned expectantly at the camera.

Continuing, “Most of my content is just… me and my friends getting drunk and filming it because we think we’re funny!” You answered honestly, thinking back on the many times you got too drunk filming pub golf videos that George had to give you a piggy-back on the walk home.

The camera crew asked you how well you think you’re going to do in the challenge,

“I’d like to think I’ll do well, honestly!” You laughed.

”I spend money but I don’t spend so much at a time; like I could go weeks without buying something, then suddenly I’m a couple hundred quid down within a week?”

You continued, “I think I can go without my phone for a week; I’d like to think I’m not that addicted.” You laughed and cringed slightly.

”If anything I think I’ll miss my friends more than anything. I’m sure I’ll love the people there but it’s meeting new faces, I’d just love to walk in there now and see someone I know— My dog! That’s it, I’ll miss my dog this most!” You interrupted yourself, losing your train of thought.

The camera crew laughed at you and pushed the interest about your dog back home, “I just hope she’s being looked after. I’ve left her with George for the week so I think she’ll live?” You laughed nervously.

Upon this, the camera crew behind the device smirked and tilted their heads downwards so you couldn’t see their face. A couple of them turned around and subtly nudged each other.

It was at this point that the crew said that your interview was over and that it was time to enter the place you’ll be living in for the next week.

You nervously picked up your suitcase, clinging onto your comfort pillow in your right arm and hugging it tight to your chest. You couldn’t remember if you could take this into the house but taking no risks, you took it anyway.

You entered a white room with zero life in it; a metal detector gate stood in the centre of the room and a hole to put your luggage in.

”Oh, God.” You muttered under your breath as you realised there was no turning back now.

You paused for a second and scanned the area before realising it was just you in here, “Oh, I’m by myself… that’s embarrassing.” You laughed at yourself, knowing your friends at home were going to be making fun of you when this aired.

Walking through the metal detector, you lugged your suitcase behind you and only just recognised that you might have overpacked for a place that would not utilise your items in absolutely any way.

After putting your suitcase on the conveyor, you walked through to the main area in which you could hear some voices, none of which you could distinguish.

Walking through the empty hallway, you called out “Hello?”

Upon saying this, two heads poked out and their eyes widened at the sight of you.

The girl ran over to you and embraced you into a hug and introduced herself, “Hey, I’m Mya!” She smiled at you as you responded; she was happy there was another girl in the house with her already.

Meanwhile, the man who had seen you first turned his attention to the other male in the house as you and Mya embraced; “Yo, George, isn’t that your girlfriend?”

George furrowed his brows, a bit taken aback “My what?” He laughed a bit as his feet took him towards the hallway to peek at the new arrival; who was supposedly his girlfriend?

Pulling back from Mya’s hug, you made direct eye-contact with George, your best friend, standing a couple feet away from you. “What the fuck?” You shouted and broke out into a sprint towards him, him already on route to you.

”No way!” He shouted back and caught your figure into a tight hug, his arms wrapped comfortably around your waist and lifted you off the ground slightly as he buried his face into your neck amidst the hug.

You slung your arms around his broad shoulders and fell into the all too familiar embrace, catching his scent and subtly running your hands through the hair on the back of his head.

”Why didn’t you tell me you were coming in here?” He chuckled, his voice muffled as his head was tucked into your neck; he had settled you down onto the floor now but didn’t falter his grip by any means.

You laughed back at him, pulling your head away so you could maintain eye-contact with him, “Why didn’t you tell me?” You retorted jokingly.

PK looked confused, “So they are boyfriend and girlfriend then?” Mya laughed at him, knowing the extent that you and George got shipped on Tiktok, the occasional edit finding itself on everyone’s for you page.

You and George turned back to look at PK,“No, no! George is my best friend!” You smiled at him, still in disbelief that George was actually here; “Half my videos are just with her.” George finished for you.

PK tilted his head, pointing between you two in which at the time you realised George’s hands were still resting on your waist while yours were cradling the back of his neck.

Confused (still), PK shook his head and waved his hand in dismissal, completely convinced that he was looking at a couple in front of him.

As more people entered one by one, you and George dispersed from the group, his arm slung around your shoulders and keeping you against him the entire time.

You shook your head and looked up at him with a smile, “What are you even doing here?”

George smiled down at you as you settled themselves down on the sofa in the living room.

“Dunno, the Sidemen like me so I thought, why not?” He laughed at himself, you scooted closer to him as he picked up a cushion to set it down on yours and his lap.

He nudged you, “What about you, you little minx, how did you keep that a secret from me?”

You smirked and fiddled with the loose threads on the cushion.

”I didn’t tell anyone!” You admitted, “Not you, not Chris, not Arthur; I told no one! Not even— Wait…” You trailed off, eyes widening.

”George, who’s looking after my dog?” You said, fear flooding your features.

George laughed and threw his head back, a hand rubbing up and down your shoulder as you persisted on the whereabouts of your dog.

”She’s living with Chris and Arthur for the week.” He reassured you, an obvious relief washing over you as your shoulders fell from a hunched position.

In your own little world, you and George nattered away to each other, updating him on everything he’s missed and completely ignorant to the new members joining the house; because you were all too consumed with each other.

George just knew at that moment that when this aired, Chris was going to rip into the way he was staring at his ‘best friend’.

A shouting voice tore you out of your George-infused daze as it was directed at you two, “Wait, you’re that couple that’s always edited on my for you page?”

The blonde girl next to her snapped her head around to the pair of you sitting with George’s arm still around you, her eyes widening, “Holy shit! I love you two!”

George’s cheeks suddenly were painted a pink colour and you sported a flushed face. An awkward laugh bubbled from your chest, “What?”

Upon seeing your awkward faces and red creeping up your necks, the blonde girl covered her mouth and apologised, “Oh fuck! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

You stood up and left George’s touch, walking over to the girl with a comforting smile on your face.

“Don’t worry! Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.” You said as you raised your arms out for a hug.

She met you halfway as she responded,“Ugh, you’re gorgeous. I’m Milli.” She smiled sweetly at you, peering over her shoulder to see the other girl still gawking at you.

The louder one strutted over and immediately pulled you into a hug, “I’m Farah, who is sorry about—“ “Oh, God. Don’t even worry about it!” You reassured the girl, finding it quite amusing that you and George had crept your ways onto other people’s for you page.

time skip!

The bedroom situation was the next challenge.

After introducing yourself to everyone (they acted as if they didn’t know who you were, but they had all seen the George x Y/N edits) you all made your way over to the bedrooms, some even breaking out into a sprint.

A couple people jumped onto their beds, claiming it as their own. There were two double beds and the rest were singles, but because there were only 10 people at the time, sharing a double bed wouldn’t be an issue at the moment.

George leaped onto one bed and said sarcastically, “Oh my God, guys, stop fighting over my bed!” You laughed at him and slowly sat down on the one remaining bed next to his.

You crawled onto your bed after readjusting the pillows against the headboard so you could sit up comfortably, leaning back and allowing your eyes to close momentarily.

It wasn’t until you felt a nudge on your shin that you opened your eyes and saw a George Clarke resting on his stomach, a pillow squished between his chest and the bed, his beaming smile staring at you.

You tilted your head at him and smiled softly, lightly kicking your foot back at him as his hand lingered on your leg; the rest of the room became a blur as he kept looking at you.

Sending a quick wink your way, he hoisted himself up off the bed and gestured a hand out to you. You took it as he helped you onto your feet, so the group could walk back into the living room per producers request.

The group all positioned themselves on the couch, George settling down on the end as you squeezed between him and Mandi. With little spare room on the couch, George carefully lifted your leg so it was led over his thigh and his hand rested comfortably on your knee. Opposite you, Whitney grinned at the action.

George was fiddling with his bottle as the group conversed, “So, Y/N what do you do?” Cinna asked you.

Hearing your name, you perked up. “I mainly do YouTube videos with this weirdo here.” You pointed a thumb George’s way.

The group laughed at you and took careful notice at your closeness with George. “And George, what do you do?” She continued.

George tilted his head, “I started on TikTok.” He trailed off as Whitney butted in. “Do you talk on TikTok?”

“Yeah.” George responded. Whitney persisted, “Why not in real life?” You furrowed your brows at this. George, oblivious to her, said “Should I stop?” as he pointed at himself jokingly.

“But you don’t talk in real life! I’m like “George…” Whitney said. She was then interrupted by the Sidemen walking in, smug smirks tugging on their face.

You and George smiled at the familiar faces, previously being in Sidemen videos in the past. You took notice that George’s mood had picked up more now he knew more than one person, becoming more comfortable in the odd place he was confined in.

JJ began for the group, “Welcome to the new series of Inside!” 

The group whooped and cheered at this. Everyone was excited at the prospect of winning a million pounds.

The Sidemen began listing off the rules and concept of Inside, everyone nodding along and the occasional verbal reaction. 

Harry pointed at you and the group, “You’ll be glad to know, the shop is now open!” You and Farah made eye-contact and started jumping up to run to the shop as a joke, the group laughing at the pair of you.

JJ said one last thing before everyone bid their goodbyes to the Sidemen, “Good luck, motherfuckers!”

You all clapped and half heartedly cheered, more nervous than excited at this rate because the money you could win was in the hands of everyone else.

Farah quickly asked as they were leaving, “Wait, can I ask? When is the first challenge?”

“Shut up.”

time skip!

The group all discussed that you wanted to keep the prize money at least 800K, agreeing with a ‘hands in the middle’ before you all jogged down to the shop.

As you entered, half the group were already in there and complaining about the lack of choices they could purchase, Milli however wasn’t upset about the prices at this point.

You and George lurked at the back, shoulder to shoulder and laughed at Mandi as she stood up to the camera asking about the whereabouts of her vodka.

As a quarter of the group decided on food and drinks as the first purchase before you butted in with a suggestion, “Wait, surely we should get some entertainment first, just so we don’t all want to die on the first day?”

George, Dylan and Milli pointed at you, nodding and verbalising their agreement. Milli grabbed your upper arm and took you both to the camera to confirm your order.

“I’ll say table tennis bat and you’ll say table tennis ball, right?” You asked her, she smiled as you both poked your head up to the camera and held your microphone to your mouth.

“Can I confirm the table tennis bat,” “And the table tennis ball, please?” You and Milli spoke, giggling at each other after as you made eye-contact.

You distanced yourself from the group and they began talking louder and speaking over each other, finding yourself settled next to George who had barely spoken outside of you since being in here.

Looking at the list of items, you nudged George, “What the fuck is a ‘golden straw’?” You laughed and furrowed your brows.

You saw his eyes scan the list and chuckle at the item considering its price, “That’s actually a stupid price.” He thought out loud.

“I swear if anyone buys that shit…” You closed your eyes and shook your head, sneaking your arms around him so you could link arms.

The door suddenly opened to reveal the items you and Milli had bought. She turned around and called your name to come over to her. You walked over and tugged George close along behind you.

You saw Milli’s shoulder drop and she leaned down to pick the item up, “What?” You questioned. She turned around and lifted up the one tennis bat.

“No!” You gasped and tightened your grip on George’s arm. “Is it one?” He asked, dreading the worst after your reaction.

“It’s one!” Milli confirmed your suspicions. You groaned, cursing out the Sidemen as everyone around out kept bickering. You watched as Dylan walked back to the camera.

“I’m confirming that you did scam us with that one, I’m not going to lie. So we are ordering one more bat.” He purchased the other bat.

You turned around to face George, smiling up at him as his figure towered over you. “I’m gonna kick your ass at table tennis.” You promised to him and yourself. Laughing at you, he drifted his hands down to rest on your hips, “Best out of three; guaranteed I’m gonna win all three.” He replied smuggly, looking down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Not bothering to listen to everyone talk about eating arrangements, you yanked George’s arm and the pair of you ran back to the living room, table tennis bats in hands and laughing in joy. Even in a confined house with 10 other people, you found George attached to you as if it was only the pair of you; no one else mattered except for him.

George walked around the table, shoving you lightly before the game started in an attempt to throw you off. You cleared your throat, “This is a practice round, no cheating and no foul play!”

“You’re only saying it’s a practice round so you’re not embarrassed when I kick your ass.” George winked at you and threw the table tennis ball down onto the table.

You heard a playful gag next to you, “Ew, guys stop flirting!” Cinna stated sarcastically. You and George only laughed and began playing against each other.

George played against you for a couple rounds, the game going back and forth a handful of times. Eventually, after a good 15 minutes, you beat George in a tight game. George only shrugged and walked backwards to sit on the couch, leaning his body back and relaxing for the first time since walking in here.

You tilted your head and called Dylan up to play against you, still high on adrenaline. “Dylan, come play the reigning champion!”

Hearing this, George’s head popped up with furrowed brows. “What? I thought you said it was a practice round?” He asked in mock offence.

You shrugged, “Yeah it was… until I beat you.” George suppressed a laugh into a groan and rolled his head back as you shot him a sickeningly sweet smile; knowing he had been caught out by you once again (not that he did anything to stop it).

interview room!

“I mean, I think I’ve started off decently. Barely spent money so far, but I haven’t been down there since I got the table tennis stuff.”

“I mean, I don’t really care about winning now that I’ve beaten George in table tennis! I’ve known him for years, played against him thousands of times and now suddenly hours into my new home for the week and straight off the bat I’ve already taken the win”

“My main concern right now is that I’m so hungry. And I know the meals are gonna be shit, but honestly, I could take anything right now!”

After gossiping about the whole pot noodle fiasco, an alert came up on the screen: ‘Lunch is now ready to collect from the shop’.

“Oh, thank God.” You groaned, feeling the effects of a constant rumbling stomach taking a toll on you. George, who was sitting opposite you looked puzzled and partially offended, “You’re taking the piss. Lunch?”

Leading the pack down to the shop, you skipped down to the final step and came face to face with an open trap door and met some… unpleasant food. Picking up two of the pots, you inspected the food.

George creeped in behind you and peered over your shoulder. Upon seeing his presence, you passed him his meal and stiffled a laugh at his scrunched up nose and face of disgust.

Grabbing a spoon, you opened the pot and attempted not to be put off it immediately. You watched Mandi verbally express her utter hatred towards the food; placing a hand on her shoulder, you urged her to try a bit before she opted out. “Hey, Mandi. Just try a little before--”

“Can I confirm an upgrade, please?” You sighed as she ignored you. Feeling awkward now, George wrapped his arm around its usual spot on your shoulder and tugged you against him, whispering in your ear not to worry about it; unbeknownst that the cameras can see and hear everything.

The pair of you walked away from the chaos of buying upgrades, chatting to each other and sitting back down onto the couch.

Cinna watched you and walked up to you, “Come with me to get the rest?” She urged, knowing many people had left scraps of food down in the shop and was aware of your hunger earlier on.

You smiled at her and left George’s touch, him frowning slightly. You followed side by side with Cinna, strutting into the shop and splitting the weight of the spare food between the two of you.

As you began walking away, you spotted something shiny left in the shop.

“No fucking way.” You murmered, now having personal issues with this goddamned straw. Cinna turned around at your words, eyes widening and walking over to pick up the straw.

“Is there a golden straw in there? Did they leave it?” She questioned no one in particular.

You threw the straw a rude face, “That shit cost fucking £2,500?” You shook your head, already having some suspects on who bought it.

Snatching the straw off her, you stormed ahead to the living room to ask some very needed questions; Cinna laughing at you as she trailed behind, finding your beef with the straw hilarious.

“Who bought this?” You spoke loudly as you entered the room, watching George on the beanbag throw his head back in mock frustration, murmuring some swear words in the wake.

Cinna walked in and made a bee-line for Mandi, “It was you, wasn’t it?” Mandi’s lack of an answer told you the whole story.

Passing the straw to Mandi, you felt a hand brush yourself and looked down to George playing with your fingers as he remained seated, his eyes watching the conversations rather than you. You suppressed a smile at this and tried to fight back a blush from creeping onto your face.

You were snapped out of your thoughts as the voice of Tobi rang around the house, “It’s time for your first challenge.”

time skip!

Finally, it was you and George remaining; neither of you had been selected to compete in Insider Dating (a part of you felt like they set you two up on purpose, but by no means were you complaining).

“And lastly… George? Y/N?” Simon smirked, holding his card close to his chest.

The group whooped and cheered as the pair of you stood up, even JJ was jeering you on. Tobi leaned in to whisper something in his ear, and JJ let out his gawking laugh in response. You groaned, fully aware it was something revolving between you and George.

George sat down opposite you, a worried grin painted on his face as you sucked in a deep breath, picking up the menu in front of you.

“For not the first restaurant date for these two,” Simon started, smirking as he watched both of your faces grow a shade darker and keeping your heads down low. Some of the other contestants let out a wolf-whistle and slammed the table as they laughed at Simon’s joke. “On the menu for you two is Shocking Questions.”

As you inspected the menu more, confused on what was happening, George had already figured it out. He looked at the Sidemen for confirmation and said, “Oh.” You looked up at him, hoping he wouldn’t see your blush. “What’s that?”

“We’ll be getting shocked.” He said with a lack of enthusiasm. You closed your eyes and sighed, nervous about both the questions and being shocked; but remaining determined that you wouldn’t press the red buzzer.

Simon started, “Okay, George. You’ll be answering the questions first, so, Y/N, please ask the first question.”

You took a deep breath, inspecting the question before looking up at George and asking him, “What is your worst online dating experience?”

Unsure when to start, George looked around him and then at the camera, “Okay, um…”

He placed his hands on the table in front of him, “I matched with somebody on--” He cut himself off as an electric jolt sent his body forwards as he groaned in pain. You covered your mouth in shock and offered a hand out on the table for him to grip onto for comfort.

Taking your hand very quickly he continued, “That’s a lot of power. Um. I matched with somebody on Hinge, and I was speaking to them for about two days. Voice notes back and forth, it was fun. And then--”

Another jolt came through and he squeezed your hand hard, cursing out in the meantime, “Oh, God! I’m sorry, Y/N!” You shook your head and reassured him, “No, no! Keep going, you’re doing great!” The contestants laughed at you as you attempted to comfort George as more jolts came through.

“Fucking hell. Um, then I tried to meet up with them, but it turns out they weren’t real. I was there for an hour and a half.” You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his story, focusing on him and keeping eye-contact with him to try and urge him through this. Also thinking at the same time, if his questions were bad, think of the masacre for you.

“I came back home, reverse Google Image searched them--” George’s body locking up in pain from the electric, “And they weren’t real. Fucking hell, that’s a lot!” He groaned, still squeezing your hand across the table.

Simon urged you to ask the next question, “Could we please have the second question?”

Your eyes widened at the question and George felt more jolts come through, “Oh, my God, please, can we make it a quick one?” He begged, playing with your fingers and cracking your knuckles as a way to distract himself from the pain. “Oh, my God. That was actually quite bad.”

You began starting the next question, interrupted by George burying his head into his bicep and groaning out, “Fuck!”

“If you had to snog, marry and avoid three Insiders, who and why?” You stared into his eyes as a faint pink sprinkled his cheeks; you couldn’t decipher whether that was out of pain or embarrassment of the question.

George pulled a shocked yet puzzled face, “I don’t fucking know!” 

PK from the side shouted out, “Yes, you fucking do!” while pointing your way; you were unable to see this as your eyes were trained on George in front of you.

“Both genders?” George joked to try and diffuse the situation, making the Sidemen laugh as jolts of electricity came through more frequently and painfully.

George shook his head and gestured towards you, “Snog you, avoid Farah,” He turned around to face her and sent an apologetic look her way, “Sorry, you’re quite loud!” The rest of the group laughed as he turned back to you, “And marry Y/N!”

The group, including the Sidemen all screamed and pointed accusing fingers at George, while you sat with a mouth open and a surely bright red face by now. “You said Y/N twice!” Simon raised his brows and shouted at the man. “You can’t pick the same person twice!” JJ laughed.

George’s eyes widened as he realised what he did, “Shit! I meant marry Y/N, snog Y/N-- Shit!” He cursed as another jolt came through and stumbled over his words, “Fuck! No! Snog Mya!”

Everyone, including you laughed at him as Simon now approved the answer, and George’s grip on your hand faltered and he hid his face on the table, embarrassed beyond belief.

Some of the girls awed at his answer as the chaos had only just settled down, the focus turning on to you (as if it wasn’t already).

You rolled your head back in an attempt to release some nerves but failed to do so. You swallowed hard and looked in front of you to see George, now sat upright, staring at you with something in his eyes that you couldn’t decipher.

Looking down at the table, you saw George’s extended hand open for you, “Tit for tat?” He tilted his head, smiling at you as you accepted it, your palm brushing his. He took a deep breath as his heart jumped a little bit at the intimate moment shared in front of everyone and dozens of cameras.

Simon perked up again, “George, could you please ask the first question?” 

George looked down at the question sheet, eyes widening at the second question in particular, but chose to tackle that situation when he got there.

“Y/N,” You were waiting for the first shock but it hasn't come yet, “Why did you break up with your last boyfriend?” George asked.

Your mouth dropped open in shock, “Oh, God. Alright, so basically--” You screamed as the first shock came through and your body jolted forward in a much similar fashion as George’s previously had. You gripped his hand hard, feeling bad that you could potentially be hurting him in the process.

“You’ve got it, you’ve got it.” George encouraged you, a soft smile etched across his face.

“Shit! Okay--” Another shock going up your spine, painful but quick, “He said I was in-- Fuck!” More and more shocks came through. You understood you would have to rush this answer because there was no way you could get through it at this rate.

“He said I was in love with someone else apparently, so he-- Shitting Hell!” You gripped George’s hand. “So he cheated on me and I snitched on him to his mother!” You blurted out, hearing the loud laughter from the contestants and the Sidemen around you, even George was trying and failing to suppress a laugh.

JJ’s laugh stood out from everyone elses, “Damn Y/N! We’ll take that. George, next question?”

George’s smile fell slightly, “Right, Y/N…” Your body jolted forward in pain, “Shit! George, I love you but please hurry up!” The group laughed at your reaction.

“Okay! Okay! Y/N explain the story of your first kiss.” His voice faltered towards the end, heart thumping in his chest as your face paled.

Your eyes widened and you shook your head rapidly, “No! No! I can’t say that!” Tobi butted in, “Answer or lose 10K!”

A horrendous jolt of electricity went through your body and your hand held George’s while the other bunched up the cloth of the table as you squeezed it.

“Tell us, Y/N!” You heard other contestants shout at you. Milli shouted, “Come on, Y/N! You can do it!”

You tossed your head back, “Fuck! Okay! So basically, we were younger and neither of us-- Shit!” 

“Neither of us had had our first kiss yet, so we--” You groaned, head now falling forwards as your hair covered your face slightly. George leaned over and brushed it away, tucking it behind your ears. 

“Push the button, Y/N!” JJ urged. “Fuck off!” You screamed back, some of the group crying with laughter and standing up in doing so.

“We played odds on that we had to kiss right then and there! That’s it! Please turn this fucking thing off!” You begged, feeling sweat drip from your forehead now.

However, Simon decided to alter the rules of the game.

“Y/N, we’re not accepting that until you tell us who it was with.”

Your eyes bulged out of their head as the screaming around you ensured, George falling unusually quiet compared to everyone else as his gaze remained locked on you.

“What the fuck? That’s not-- Oh, God!” You groaned, “That’s not fair!”

JJ and Tobi just laughed, “Just tell us!”

You shook your head rapidly, “No fucking way!”

“Say it!” They screamed.

“No!” You responded with the same energy.

“You’re not leaving until you tell--”

“George!”

Everyone around you jumped up in shock and amusement, smacking the table laughing and pointing fingers at you and George.

George’s mouth also dropped open in shock as he didn’t think you would actually admit to it, blush coating his neck and cheeks as everyone was looking at you two and that you had exposed your deepest secret.

Your body relaxed as the shocks stopped but you didn’t necessarily win; sure, not losing 10K is great, but now on day one of your new home, everyone would talk about you and George, definitely not helping your case that you’re not dating.

Simon removed his hand from covering his mouth in shock, “Well… I guess you passed.” He didn’t know what to say, no one did really; everyone was just screaming incoherent words in disbelief of this entire situation.

You had never wanted to hear the words of Tobi more in your entire life, “Insiders, you have completed your first challenge of the series.”

time skip!

After a long first day, you had settled yourself down onto the couch in the living room. Led down, you sported George’s hoodie as he found himself back at the table tennis court; this time battling against PK. Blocking everyone out, you drift off for your much needed nap.

As George played against PK, the new contestant DDG had some questions.

“I didn’t know the Sidemen let couples on here.” He thought out loud, catching everyone in the room's attention. They looked at him with tilted heads. “Who’s the couple?” Cinna asked.

DDG pointed a thumb in your direction as you laid unconscious on the couch, “That’s your girl, right?” He nodded towards George.

George chuckled and looked down, “Yeah, George. How’s your girl?” PK teased.

Shaking his head, George served the tennis ball nonchalantly, “She’s just my friend.” He didn’t know who he was trying to prove, himself or those around him.

Dylan butted in, “Oh yeah, I just kiss my best friends every now and then.”

Without looking at them, George continued, “Ah! I was her first kiss, that doesn’t mean we just kiss every now and then.”

“Bet you’d like that, huh?” PK laughed. In mock retaliation, George served a harsh ball his way, the mini group laughing at him.

DDG looked between you on the couch and George standing to his right, “Hold up… you’re not dating her?” George shook his head.

He raised his brows, “For real, man?”

George slowly nodded, “For real.” He sounded partially disappointed but masked it as he continued playing table tennis.

time skip!

You found yourself standing in the shop alone, inspecting the items as you were yet to purchase anything for yourself, excluding the singular tennis bat earlier. You heard someone creeping up behind you.

“What are you thinking about, beautiful?” George whispered from beind you, crouching down slightly so he could reach your height. You leaned back into him and his hands wrapped around your waist.

“Why the fuck do I want that jiggly ball so bad?” You thought out loud. George responded with a loud gawking laugh, stumbling back a bit and bringing you with him.

You turned around and slapped his chest, “No, George! It’s not funny! Why does every part of me need that jiggly ball?”

He looked down at you with a suggestive eyebrow raise, your face fell as you understood what he was insinuating. “Oh, shut up!”

Laughing, you held his hand and walked out of the shop together. You settled on the couch again after your nap, reintroducing yourself Patrice as the last time you saw him was when you were half-asleep.

A couple of minutes later, you heard your name being whispered at the door. Standing up, you followed the noise and was met with George suppressing a wild grin and something stuffed up his shirt. “Oh, God. What did you do?” You smiled.

George leaned down and dragged the pair of you into the corner of the room, “I might have suggested that Farah get something for you.” Your eyes sparkled in excitement.

“No, you didn’t…” You mumbled. 

It was then that George whipped out the bright purple and blue jiggly ball from underneath his shirt, handing it to you and bouncing it between his hands in the process, giggling in excitement. “Oh, my God!” You squealed.

You took the ball from him and played with it for a moment before looking up to see George already staring at you. You shook your head, smiling at him, “Thank you!” 

You pulled him into a crushing hug, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you off the ground, swaying the pair of you back and forth slightly. He placed you back down as you seperated from the hug, hands remaining on your waist as you stared at each other, not breaking eye-contact. 

Neither of you said anything to each other, but your eyes said so much more. The hand that wasn’t holding the ball reached up to his face and urged him to tilt his head to the side, before you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Pulling away from your peck, you smiled at him and backed away slightly. You tossed the ball so it hit his forehead lightly and bounced back into your hands, “I’ll see you later.” You bit your lip to keep your smile from growing.

Walking away, you didn’t notice that George watched you as you went; a hand pressed up against his cheek where you had kissed him, only hoping it was closer to his lips.

As bedtime rolled around, you situated yourself in your bed next to George’s. You rested on the side facing him, finding him doing the same and could recognise his beaming smile even in the darkness.

You rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling as the tiredness took a toll on you. You let your hand flop off the side of your bed, not thinking too much of it.

Then, you felt a soft brush against your hand and looked down at it, seeing George’s hand lacing his fingers with yours as his hand was stretched off his own bed. Leaning off the side of his bed, George pressed a soft kiss onto the back of your hand, signaling a sweet ‘goodnight’ to you before the pair of you dozed off.

Maybe this weird, confined lifestyle where everything was overpriced and challenges determined your mood for that day wasn’t too bad. But maybe, it was rather the person holding your hand that could help you tolerate this.

taglist (ps love u all):

@sidemenslver @wherethezoes-at @multifanxtvshows @bibissparkles @le-le-lea @tiamonetsworld @dopeysunflowers @viagracex @rebeccaw05-blog @sundarksposts @sabbrriiinnaa @lovingaphroditesworld @evisceratedmuke @youtubewag @happyclifford @liz140569 @addiemb8332 @isabellem2909 @madforgeorge @pookietv @iammyownselfdestruction @marijas-stuff @maggie-readss @bambidollstar @lottiewills @hollie911

[kenmaspuddinghair]

Honorably discharged partially disabled Simon part 6

this one ends much more happily, a little over 1k words

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Your house felt packed, once the doctor left again you called Price even though it was past midnight, and so he came over, followed closely by Soap and Gaz. Right now you were rewarming some muffins you had made the previous day for them to snack on, and grabbing them some water. They were all quietly talking, surrounding Simon's bed. Once you got in between all of them, you whispered “here’s some food and water, cause I can tell you two were drinking earlier” the last part directed to Soap and Gaz who had in fact been at a bar just a few hours ago. 

After a few minutes you kicked the other boys out, telling them if they really wanted they could sleep on the couch, and of course they wanted to stay close to their lieutenant. You walked back into Simon’s room, silently sitting yourself right next to him under the covers, “to think you were in so much pain just because I wasn’t sitting next to you, it’s wild Simon” after almost an hour you and the doctor finally figured out why Simon was in so much pain, since you had been staying in his room the past few nights, you kept it to a temperature you liked which was colder than normal, and apparently Simon had also been experiencing excessive sweating which to him seemed normal, he was a big guy who worked out often of course he sweats a lot, but last night in a already warm room it got to much, intensifying the pain. Every night Simon would also feel an odd stinging sensation in his legs before he fell asleep which he would ignore, because whenever he pulled you onto him, your weight acted as pressure against it relieving the pain he wasn't even fully aware of yet. 

Now, do to these new symptoms changes had to be made, the doctor was prescribing medicine, specifically Nortriptyline, most over the counter pain relief dont work when it comes to nerve damage, along with that the doctor recommended Simon wears a leg wrap when he goes to sleep or on days that are particularly tough. He also recommended you apply for a blue badge (UK equivalent of a handicap placard for your car) which can take up to 3 months. Although you would still consider it very early to be regularly sleeping next to your partner, it made Simon so much more comfortable, and you could monitor him every night, because a small part of you was worried to leave Simon alone at night, not wanting him to experience that kind of pain again.

Simon woke up right at five, and based on all the noise from your living room, which is what truly woke you up, the other guys were also up. So you helped Simon up and into the dining room even though he grumbled about not needing help the whole time, although he made no moves to remove your hands from his biceps and chest. There you were tiredly cooking breakfast for the 4 giant men in your house, just utterly confused how they could be so energetic and talkative after just waking up. Breakfast went smoothly, the other guys started packing up talking about how they needed to get back on base, Simon had been fine both physically and emotionally even while they talked about work, but it was one passing comment Gaz made right before he left that Simon silently reacted to “ya know lieutenant, we always joked about starting and leaving the military after ya, never would I ever ‘ave thought you'd be first to leave the job” he was silent, none of them knew the comment had affected him, but you saw the way he shifted, the way he was a little more quiet after that. 

Once they all made their way out, you went and sat next to Simon on the sofa “Simon, you okay?” he just brushed you off looking the other muttering something about being totally fine, now of course you weren't going to take the answer, so you moved to his other side where he was already looking, but that didn't work he just looked away again, so you did the next best thing. You sat straight on Simon's lap, staring right into his eyes as they grew wide. “Now Simon, are you okay not being on duty any more?” Simon let out a deep sigh knowing he couldn't keep ignoring you  “Gaz is right, I never planned to leave, I've got nothing to do with my life, and if you weren't m’nurse i'd be completely lost” you cupped Simon’s face forcing him to look you back in the eyes “Simon, i'm not just your nurse, i'm also your girlfriend, well future wife as you put it” that comment brought a smile back to his face “which means you already have one thing to look forward to, I’m sure I can help you find another” Simon just pulled you into him, bearing his face into your neck, just so happy with his choice.

You guys spent the rest of the relaxing and trying to find a hobby Simon would like, it was now almost dinner time, and you guys had nothing. You were worried about this but Simon didn't seem to mind that you guys haven't found anything, just happy he got to spend the whole day talking and laughing with ‘his girl’ when he got a call from Soap, “hey this is gonna sound weird but, ya want a dog” Simon was genuinely so confused, and shocked he didn't have an answer, you walked over putting the phone on speaker before asking Soap to repeat himself “I know it's random, but we got a military dog that needs to retire but doesn't have an owner, so I thought id ask if ya wanted a buddy, y’know” you were just as shocked as Simon, but you saw an opportunity, so you convinced Simon to accept, and tomorrow morning a new dog would be dropped of right into Simon's lap. 

tags- @piconico17 @just-lilita @madsdawson @silversfavfics @enfppuff @solazoro @sirbonesly @roastyyytoastyyy @the-disaster-in-waiting @lonjitas @squishytap @gays6968 @sunndust @dreamland08 @sweetpeakarolinaaa @marcysbear @alfiestreacle @bxm-2121@goldyghoul  @itsanemu0101 @wolverineswaifu @crempuffie @ohdrey89 @cucurucho-amargo @avalkyrieofparis @castellomargot @cmbghost @strawberrygato @blueladys-world @goodsoup19 @pinkylouise @creepzeyecandy @tessakate @identity2212 @callmytherapistplease-blog @witchblossoms @carolb111  @iiriam  @berryjuicyy @bmtillerbabe @stoned-anime-babe @junitries @harrysthiccthighss @lucienofthelakes @urmomsgirlfriend1 @rexythebitch @milanriol @cryingpages

[padmerry]

Ford’s love for & view of Stan pre-memory erasing: a lengthy analysis

A big misunderstanding going on in this fandom is the idea that Stan was the one yearning for Ford while Ford was too busy hating Stan (at worst) or at least thinking he hated Stan (at best), too focused on his research and academic accomplishments to pay his repressed/heavily denied love for Stan any mind, up until Stan’s sacrifice in Weirdmaggedon. Ambitious, self-centered Ford, who would be shocked at the preposterous idea that he still loved Stan deep down if, say, his post-Weirdmaggedon future self revealed it to him. “I thought I hated you, but I was wrong,” old Ford says to Stan, remorseful... and painfully out-of-character!

Another very popular idea is that Ford genuinely values the greater good over Stan, to the point he wouldn’t have rescued Stan if their positions were reversed. This idea is so rooted in people’s minds that when Ford’s most dedicated fans attempt to defend him, they argue that he was right to be angry about being rescued from the portal because Stan was acting irresponsibly (as if Ford wouldn’t have done the same thing). This is not about anyone in particular—it’s a tendency I’ve seen repeated again and again and again, in different ages of this fandom.

The gap between Stan needing Ford vs Ford needing Stan is so big in some people’s minds that they seem to think that poor, guilty Ford ending up with Stan all alone on a boat wasn’t the best ending for him. That was just Alex trying to make a point about “family above all” in a show about family, teaching Ford a lesson, and rewarding Stan’s unhealthy codependency...

It’s just incredible how Ford’s own love and yearning towards Stan is shoved under the rug by the fans!

I understand why, of course. Ford is arguably the most complex character in Gravity Falls. His love for Stan is shown more subtly than Stan’s love for him. You have to actually pay close attention, and often enough people aren’t invested enough in the Stan twins’ relationship to do so. Sometimes because they’re more invested in the relationship of Stan and/or Ford with other characters, and this is not throwing shade, either—on my part, I can admit I am so invested in them that I don’t care as much for other characters, and that’s natural.

My most controversial takes here are: 1) Ford has always known he loved Stan. Yes, even at his most bitter. He just didn’t think Stan was worthy of that love. 2) Ford valued his family, including Stan, over any noble ideal of greater good. 3) Ford missed Stan and yearned for his company just as much as Stan missed Ford and yearned for his company. I have dedicated this particular meta to pointing out not all moments (that would make it longer than Tolstoy’s War and Peace, just by the amount of times Ford mentions Stan in his journal) but the most telling ones re: Ford’s repressed but obvious love for Stan and their implications. I’ll break it into a few different subjects that I believe drive my point across.

Ford’s sentimentality over Stan:

A good place to start as any. Stan is in literally everything Ford does, sometimes in ways so subtle that people miss it, and in ways that Ford himself would love to deny, even if it meant lying to himself. Ford is very, very sentimental, and that is reflected in his relationship with Stan through the decades, with all the different paths he takes to cling to his past and the idea of his brother.

Let’s explore some examples, shall we? We don’t need to go far.

First of all, the Mystery Shack cottage, commissioned by Ford and built by Dan Corduroy according to Journal 3, is clearly based off a childhood toy he shared with Stan.

It doesn’t stop there, of course. Ford loves his boat motif decorations. (At least the boat on top of the shelf is very likely Ford’s choice of décor, and not Stan’s, given that it’s placed beside Ford’s shrunken heads referenced in Journal 3; we know that the boat painting belongs to one of the Stan twins and not Dipper, since it was already there in Tourist Trapped as Dipper arrives. I think it’s fair to assume, given the boat on top of the shelf, that it was also Ford’s.)

And would you look at that, his favorite place in his beloved Gravity Falls, a town full of wondrous places full of fantastical anomalies and literally a weirdness magnet, is, for some reason, a lake. A very weird lake? A very cool lake? No, a lake that reminded him of his childhood, aka Stan (as seen by the drawing of a boat and the codified message). “There is no other place in Gravity Falls I would rather be than the lake.”

But that isn’t enough for Ford. He must keep, still, pictures and videos of Stan. I won’t even focus, here, on the picture of the Pines family that Ford stares at in the beginning of his college days, despite Stan and Ford being at the very center of it and it being a visual parallel to Stan’s own picture of him and his brother. That one included Filbrick and Caryn, and the speaker had just mentioned making one’s family proud. But what about the rest?

People usually focus on the overall adorableness of, say, Ford leaning his head on Stan’s shoulders or Ford’s apologies (again, in Journal 3) to notice the implications of what Dipper says: “Ford even found an old film reel of them as kids, which he amazingly saved all these years.” Even Dipper himself is amazed. I’ve seen people assuming that Ford had these and forgot about them, or that Caryn was the one to send him these and he simply agreed to avoid a fight (there is a tendency in this fandom to think of her as a very loving and/or affectionate mother, but we have no evidence to think so). Years later, TBoB was like, “nuh-uh, that was all Ford Pines!” In TBoB, Ford not only does remember some of these itens, but he makes a conscious effort to hide them from Fiddleford, worried that his friend was getting “too close” (to what? to the inner depths of his heart and mind, where Stanley was?) “I’ve quickly re-hidden here, away from prying eyes.”

And a picture of teenage Stan (as seen below), too! You would think he would just attach himself to the idealized version of baby Stan in his head to feed his nostalgia and completely ignore teenage Stan, the traitor, the one who destroyed his science project. But no, Ford wouldn’t be Ford if he acted consistently about Stan. The funniest thing to me about the ripped yearbook page is that it implies Ford made the conscious decision to include Stan as he ripped the page off, when he could have just focused on his own picture. And then we also have his drawing of Stan, a perfectly accurate portrayal of Stan’s face as he got kicked out, implying that not only he paid an enormous amount of attention to his brother and how he looked like back then (after he closed the curtains), but that particular image was living rent free in his brain. Very vividly. With details.

Now, folks, do we have any doubt whatsoever of the power Stan had in Ford’s psyche? Seeing that this is how the bedrock of Ford’s mind looked like? The boat, the swing set? I’ve seen it suggested before that these items represent Ford’s greatest regrets—I don’t know if I fully agree with that take, seeing as the swing set is fully intact, unlike in Stan’s mind, but one thing is true: they represent what Ford deep down thinks is most important, and two of three are directly related to Stan. Even the portal, from a certain angle, is connected to Stan.

Now, another thing that I believe to be related to that, is the claim that Ford didn’t spare Stan a single tought in the many decades they went separated. But here is Ford, casually confessing that he spent the last thirty years thinking of Stan:

But back to pictures. According to Alex in the commentary of Weirdmaggedon 3: Take Back the Falls, that picture of Stan has always been in Ford’s coat pocket, through all the decades, even before Bill’s betrayal. That’s why it’s so damaged. He was dimension hopping with it. I don’t think I even need to make any comment here, hahah.

I almost imagine if McGucket found that photo in his, you know, coat while they’re working on the portal or something... [imitating Fiddleford’s creaky voice] “What’s this? What’s this here?” And Ford says, [imitating Ford’s deep, very serious voice] “OH, yes. That’s a very important moment, that’s when I, um, first decided I wanted to be an adventurer.” [...] There would be NO reference to... the real reason he’s keeping it [...]. “Oh yes, this is about, uh, science, as a horizon, as a frontier to reach towards. You know, like a boat, like a ship, like science. It’s about SCIENCE!”

Ford’s protectiveness:

Stan Pines is very much ones of Ford’s weaknesses. Ford knows this and accepts this with shocking ease. How so? Well, first of all, the nightmare he had. As he tells us about it in Journal 3, even though he attempts to make light of the situation, his hand is clearly trembling as he writes, making drops of ink splatter on the page. The climax of his nightmare, the peak, the scariest moment was when Ford realized he was not the one at risk; rather, Stan was. “I realized my hand wasn’t chasing after me at all—it was chasing after my brother, and it was going to squeeze him to death!”And then, may it be noticed, there was no hesitation whatsoever on Ford’s part about whether to save Stan or not, nor does he try to hide his protective reaction. It was immediate and instinctive. “I tried to run to help him, but my feet were frozen.” It’s very telling that the Dream Hipster, the nightmare inducing ghost, thought that Stanley Pines would be the most effective thing to make Ford shake in his boots. Not even, say, failing and being ridiculed by other scientists, considering how ambitious he was.

And you know who else has noticed this weakness? Bill Cipher, of course. After psychologically, emotionally, and physically abusing Ford in horrific manners (including but not limited to: forcing him to eat spiders, driving a nail into his hand, and making him wake up on the snowy roof of the Mystery Shack as a symbolic threat of forced suicide), Bill involves Stan, as the grand finale. “But then he crossed a line.” Why was Ford’s brother that line, after everything Ford himself went through? “No. He wouldn’t.” Ford couldn’t even believe Bill’s audacity in involving Stan, even though he very much already knew Bill was as evil as evil could get. Because Bill knew, having free access to Ford’s mind, how terribly important Stan was: the person Ford loved the most in the world, more than himself.

You could still argue, then, that Ford wasn’t very protective of homeless Stan. After all, how could he have allowed his brother to be homeless in the first place?

Simple: he didn’t know. There’s a lot of things about mullet!Stan that Ford didn’t know! From canon, namely TBoB and Journal 3, we can deduce that Ford didn’t think of him as homeless, thought he was doing well for himself, living a well traveled charlatan/adventurer’s life, perhaps even a friend/member of the mob:

As Stan was kicked out, he told Ford (and the rest of the family), “Fine! I can make it on my own! I don’t need you! I don’t need anyone! I’ll make millions and you’ll rue the day you turned your back on me!” The way I see it, Ford took that at face value. Stan didn’t seek Ford out in those ten years, either, presumably out of a mix of pride, shame and self-hatred, so Ford could only assume Stan truly didn’t need him. Despite the many, many crossed out mentions of Stan in Journal 3, I think Ford at least tried to not let his mind linger on thoughts about Stan too much, because that hurt.

In his most recent interview, by HanaHyperfixates and ThatGFFan in 2023/2024, Alex talked about Ford’s issues:

He’s aloof, and distant, and he’s too perfect. And it’s like, “oh! I think he’s also aloof and distant from himself.”

I think he is, uh, deeply deeply hiding from his real feelings about things, because at some point early on, he decided that he could run from hurt by achievement and by creation, and has dug that hole so deep that he has no relationships.

If he sees achievement and creation as distractions from his real feelings, no wonder Stan didn’t get a call (or a postcard) from him earlier.

We also have Ford’s condescending, but protective, attitude towards Stan in TBoB as he considers asking for his help. Condescending protectiveness, if you will:

Notice how Ford briefly looks at Stan when Stan rants about his life:

A very ☹️ face. He’s probably surprised and concerned about what he’s hearing.

And then Stan, unfortunately but understandably, starts insulting/accusing him of selfishness:

You can notice the ☹️ face slowly becoming 😠 as Stan started attacking.

Again, when Ford accidentally hurts Stan by branding him:

That’s not even ☹️ anymore, it’s almost 😩! Things would probably have deescalated and perhaps even been fixed if Stan, unfortunately but understandably, hadn’t punched Ford in the face as retaliation.

“Oh, but what about old Ford kicking Stan out after everything, then?”

I think a lot of people who talk about this moment operate under the assumption that Stan was, well, completely and thoroughly screwed if Ford followed with his original man. An old man, no place to go, no money...

But Stan did have money. A lot.

No, really, he had, per his own words, in the extra commentary of Land Before Swine:

I do have a son, Benjamin Abe Hamilton Washington. This pile of money I’ve collected over the years! That’s my true family. Y’know, I can sorta glue it together into the shape of a child, maybe… Eh, I dunno. I do my best, right? And I do have—I do actually—not to brag, but I have an obscene amount of money. Uh, y’know, all the years of collecting and etcetera—and also grifting!

I’m not defending Ford’s actions here. Ford is my favorite character, but I’m not a Ford defender, hahah. You could still argue that what he did was an ungrateful, jerky move, and I would agree. I’m just against painting it as a “Ford doesn’t care at all about Stan’s safety” moment. Especially because, when Ford told Stan he wanted his house back, sufficient time had already passed. Enough for Ford to change his clothes, visibly, and enough for them to have had a talk, in which Stan could have revealed this little fact about himself.

Another thing I’d like to address is that Ford doesn’t hesitate at all to save Stan when he gets into trouble and acts natural about it, which is way more that we can say for Stan (as seen by how Stan reacts when Ford is kidnapped by Probabilitor the Annoying and when Ford is turned into a golden statue by Bill):

Again, not saying that Stan wasn’t justified in not wanting to help/save Ford after Ford’s blatant ungratefulness (I’m also sure he didn’t know Bill was actually torturing Ford). Not the point.

Now, back to Bill.

What I always loved about his little victory moment in Weirdmaggedon 3: Take Back the Falls is that upon surprising his enemies with his appearance, he proceeds to turn everyone into tapestry, including even Fiddleford (whom we know Ford cares a lot about!) but forces himself to spare Stan and the kids and place them inside the cages, even though they didn’t know the equation and would have zero usefulness to him. That could only be because he thought he could use them against Ford, so Stan was obviously included (instead of turned into tapestry or outright killed) for that very purpose. From a Doylist perspective, of course they couldn’t have excluded Stan, since he was one of the main characters; for the sake of character analysis, though, this is the best explanation in-universe.

That is why, when Stan-as-Ford tells Bill, “My only condition is that you let my brother and the kids go!” Bill easily believes him. Because he thought that it would be in-character for Ford. And Bill wouldn’t be wrong, not at all. He wouldn’t, because Ford himself was the one to tell Stan, just a moment earlier: “We need to take his deal. It’s the only way he’ll agree to save you and the kids.” It’s blaffling to me how many fans seem to forget Ford’s own words, and the fact Ford was very, very much willing to damn the whole universe (with seven billion people living on Earth at the time) to save three (3) people, including Stan. That Stan himself was the one to oppose and stop him. I think that happens because people buy Ford’s facade of Cold Responsible Greater Good Guy, which couldn’t be more deceiving. At this point I’m begging you guys to look deeper!

One common misconception about Ford’s character—not only Ford, but many, many fictional characters I have had the pleasure of considering blorbos—is that people take his facade at face value and judge him based off that. You’re falling for his bullshit. You’re looking at Ford and seeing exactly the man he wants you to see, instead of the man he is.

Ford demonstrated being hypocritical many, many times through the show, the comics, his journal, and even TBoB. I would go so far as to say it’s a Known Personality Trait of his. He chews Stan’s ass for being selfish, reckless, a criminal. Then proceeds to be: selfish and completely unaware of it, ten times more reckless, and a much more dangerous kind of criminal. He reproaches Stan for risking the world for only one person, but would have done the same thing.

Now, the last point of this particular subject: Ford and the erasing of Stan’s memories, which is sometimes interpreted as Ford prioritizing the greater good, or the kids’ safety, over Stan.

Dear reader, Ford erased Stan’s memories because he had literally no other choice. This is what Ford said to him: “He’ll be able to take over the galaxy and maybe even worse, but at least he might let the kids free.” Emphasis on the might, here. Might! Perhaps! Maybe! Perchance! Ford, in this line, was referring to Bill’s immediate threat to the kids’ lives—Bill had, after all, ran after Dipper and Mabel with a terrifying threat of disassembling their molecules as their grunkles were forced to watch inside their cage, powerless to stop him. After reflecting about their whole situation, he included Stan’s safety in the deal, too, now more certain than ever about his decision to sacrifice not only himself but, in his own words, “the galaxy” (and later, “the universe,” as he was pretending to be Stan) to, again, perhaps (!!!) save his family. Ford had literally no guarantee Bill would follow through with his words. Given Bill’s track record, it was way, way more likely that he wouldn’t. Bill is a liar and a manipulator through and through, one who takes great enjoyment in people’s suffering. Ford’s suffering, specifically, above all, since TBoB painted Bill as this toxic and possessive ex obsessed with his pet scientist. What were the chances?

Even if Bill, through some miracle, did end up keeping his word, we saw Bill’s plans for Earth in his daydream fantasies: taking a bite off the planet, drawing a smiley face on its surface as millions died... What a guy, that Bill! If the Earth was wrecked beyond repair, where would Stan and the kids live? How would they survive among all the chaos and destruction of the literal apocalypse? With nightmarish creatures lurking in every corner? With what food, what water, what shelter? Answer: they likely wouldn’t. The probability of human survival would be abysmally low.

Ford, tragically, had no other choice but to sacrifice Stan’s memories. It was that or risking the possibility of having to watch his family, including Stan, die horribly painful deaths at Bill’s sadistic hands or to condemn his family, including Stan, to a slower but still certain death after the entire human race perished.

Ford being aware of his love for Stan:

I have faith that most people already knew, to some extent, that Ford never stopped loving Stan, even at his angriest. A much lower percentage of these people, I believe, know that Ford himself was very much aware of that, and not in denial at all. He never even thought he hated Stan.

First, I choose to point out how young adult Ford, still in college, with his bitterness and resentment still very fresh, admits to missing Stan. He wrote, “MISS YOU” in their Bro Code, the code he memorized and never forgot. He not only thought about Stan, which would be understandable, since all of us have intrusive thoughts, but he took the time to write it down, and in code, which would be even more difficult than just writing it in English. That requires at least some level of acceptance. You may not be able to filter your thoughts, but you are able to filter your writing.

Ford does attempt to filter his writing, I know, by crossing out a lot of lines in Journal 3, most of them about Stan. But he does not cross out all of it. He freely admits to having a nightmare about Stan, to wanting to protect Stan from the giant six-fingered hand, to having the lake as his favorite place, to missing Stan. I think that Ford, if asked about his love for Stan back then, would also freely admit to it, as well. Stan is his twin brother, so of course he loves Stan.

One thing that always caught my attention is how Ford still refers to Stan as his “family” in the Journal, even after Stan’s attempt to disown him. Stan makes it pretty clear that, from now on, his “family” is just Mabel and Dipper:

Days after this, Ford didn’t seem to have taken this to heart, as seen by what he wrote in his Journal:

It’s way more likely than not that he IS including Stan, here. He says “the rest of the Pines,” instead of just “the children” or “the kids” or “the twins,” and even singles out Dipper as someone he trusts (contrasted with Stan and Mabel, whom he doesn’t).

I wonder if that’s just Ford being stubborn or if he really thinks his relationship with Stan is in a somewhat better place than it actually is.

I mean, for instance, this is their swingset (symbol of their relationship) in Stan’s mind:

And here it is Ford’s mind:

Still ominous, but very noticeably intact.

It’s ironic—I think that Ford was aware of his own love for Stan, but not aware of how damaged their relationship was from Stan’s POV.

Ford and stubborness:

I’ve also seen people saying that, if Stan hadn’t sacrificed himself, Ford would have continued, quote unquote, “hating” him. Or that his happy ending with Stan was a byproduct of his guilt over the same sacrifice, and not out of a genuine desire to reconnect with Stan. According to Alex’s commentary on this scene in Weirdmaggedon 3: Take Back the Falls, that isn’t true, either:

This whole sort of conclusion here is—what we needed to happen in this scene was—we needed pressure to be at the point where Stan and Ford recognize their lifelong rivalry and Ford does a sincere apology to Stan. And almost more importantly, he acknowledges Stan’s intelligence. Like, he says, “you wouldn’t have fallen for Bill’s nonsense,” like, he recognizes his brother has a kind of intelligence that he doesn’t. [...] And even though it’s Stan who agrees to—“I’ll be the one! Erase my mind! It’s fine. It’s worth it.”—like, it’s a sacrifice for both, like, Ford at this point is willing to get his brother back and has to lose him again. Like, both of them were... just doing what they have to do here.

This means that Ford was already wanting to reconnect with Stan before Stan offered to sacrifice his own memories. His comment about how Stan wouldn’t have fallen for Bill’s flattery wasn’t just self-reproach or some comfort to Stan, but a conscious attempt to soften things between them.

Which also means Stan’s offer to sacrifice himself wasn’t actually necessary for Ford to forgive him (or switch the blame entirely, more like, and start blaming himself instead) but just came at the worst possible moment. It was too late for them, now.

Reconciling Ford’s love for Stan with his treatment of Stan:

Now, we arrive at the last problem, which is something I’ve seen a lot of people struggling with. How to even reconcile Ford’s love for Stan, something we see hints of again and again, with his treatment of Stan?

First, this infamous line in Journal 3, which is arguably the most vicious (towards Stan) Ford ever was in canon:

That’s probably also related to Ford’s control freak tendencies. If Ford admits to himself he is not in control, that he needs help from other people, that he is really that desperate... Well, he can’t admit that, so he rationalizes his way out of that conclusion by convincing himself he would be the one doing Stan a favor (offering him the chance to prove himself to Ford), and not the other way around. He doesn’t need Stan, he doesn’t need anyone; Stan is the one who needs him and his forgiveness. (This is the moment I get the urge to reference a manga protagonist with a very similar control freak mindset, Light Yagami from Death Note. Why am I always attracted to characters with deep cogntive dissonance issues who desperately shape their own narrative to convince themselves of their full control over it? Like a moth to a flame.)

Don’t get me wrong, I do believe Ford looked down on Stan—on people in general. There’s plenty of evidence for that in both Journal 3 and Word of God, if you count Word of God as evidence. Ford himself admits to that after Weirdmaggedon. And let’s not forget what is probably the biggest elephant in the room, the 2016 TVInsider interview (if you’re nerdy enough to read such a long meta, you’re likely nerdy enough to have seen this quote already):

In terms of Stan and his brother’s conflict, we always wanted a moment where Ford saw that he was wrong. Ford’s spent an entire life imagining himself as this lone solitary hero and imagining his brother as this bumbling leech. From a narrative point of view, for Ford to see Stan be the hero finally lets Ford see the true side of his brother that he’s been too blinded by pride to see.

Ah, yes. Ford looking down on Stan enough to think of him as a “bumbling leech.” To most people, this sounds way harsher than “selfish jerk,” the term Ford himself used in Journal 3.

Fittingly enough, that was in the same interview Alex said Ford would have deserved to lose Stan:

If Stan had lost his memory for good, that would [have] provided some interesting narrative places for him and his brother to go, but ultimately the show is about the kids. Stan and his brother are meant to be a parable [that show] what can go wrong in a family relationship, [but also] show that, with hard work and sacrifice, the riff can be repaired. If Stan’s memory had been fully erased, it wouldn’t punish him so much because he’d be gone, but it would punish Ford, Dipper and Mabel most. Even though Ford might deserve that punishment, Dipper and Mabel do not.

The interesting thing here, though, is exactly that: losing Stan would be a punishment to Ford. Why? Because it would hurt. Why? Because Ford loved him. Enough, it seems, that he would suffer more with it than Stan himself would.

I think what confuses people so much is that they conflate love with like with admiration with trust with respect. They think of it as the same thing—a confusing, amorphous mass of positive feelings towards someone.

The way I see it, though, Dipper was someone Ford loved (considering love a deeply rooted, complex emotion), liked (felt general fondness/amiability towards), and trusted (to be capable of handling all the mystery stuff). Mabel was someone he loved (she was family), liked (she was weird and creative and pure-hearted!), but didn’t trust (due to his constant projecting; before anyone attempts do deny this, I’ll remind you that Ford himself admits in Journal 3 that Dipper was the only family member whom he had come to trust). Stan was someone he didn’t like nor trust, not anymore, certainly didn’t admire and—let’s be honest—barely respected (or didn’t respect at all, depending on your point of view), but still loved with the fierce intensity of one thousand suns.

I do believe Alex is at least mindful of the difference between love and respect, as seen by his commentary on Stan’s condescending love for Mabel in Land Before Swine:

But this idea that Waddles is sort of a metaphor for what Mabel loves. And Stan loves Mabel but he doesn’t—he doesn’t really think that anything she thinks is necessarily smart or right. You know, he loves like her, ah, she’s my sweet niece, but [Stan’s voice] “she doesn’t know anything.”

In the same interview by HanaHyperfixates referenced earlier in this post, Alex revealed his view of the Stan twins’ relationship:

Those characters at sea—it was so rich. They’re really really funny, because they both have major major blind spots. I can kinda write stories about them as a duo forever, because you can always excuse them both getting hyped on a bad idea for their own reasons, and then you can always come up with a reason for them to disagree about it, and it’s always sweet to see them come together again, because they’re so full of themselves, but they are also both so damaged they desperately need each other.

As you can see, the codependency is genuinely mutual, not something imposed on poor, guilty Ford after Weirdmaggedon. One thing I find really interesting about Ford is his black & white mindset, the fact that the only way he knows how to be with Stan is a codependent way. They’re either separated and estranged or sailing completely alone on a boat for the rest of their lives. Either rivals or best friends forever. There’s no middle ground for him.

Dipper tells us in Journal 3: “Still, it’s taken about a week of intensive scrapbook therapy to get Stan fully back to himself. [...] Ford’s been working at it the hardest.” Ford was the one putting the most effort in getting Stan back. Despite all, I believe Ford is the person who loves Stan the most. Not the one who loves Stan better—that one would be Mabel, I believe, or Soos, who are non-judgemental and understanding. But Ford is the one who loves him with the most intensity, which is fascinating because for most of the show he doesn’t even know how to love Stan, as exemplified by his treatment of him. Too fierce, too selfish, too much of everything.

[bunni-v1]

“When they are together, you never feel as though you are an outsider to two soulmates, but instead a part of them that they cannot bear to lose. They are both softer to you than they are with each other because they need you to know just how loved you are. If you ever felt left out, I think it would kill the both of them.”

… oh really now. How intriguing.

if that’s the case how bout a scenario in which this happened, how bout a reader with with low self esteem with some good ol’ self loathing in that regard, who thinks themselves at least in the back of their mind like they aren’t good enough for their two amazing partners. Who feels like an annoying third wheel even though their self aware enough to know that’s not true.

because let me tell you not all of the self awareness in the world stops those types of thoughts from stinging or feeling true, for the reader I imagine it would be a constant thing in the back of their head- something they can ignore most times. But sometimes, sometimes those murmurings feel like the cruel and other truth. During one of these lower periods I imagine the reader would try to let shadow milk and pure vanilla alone together- they’re the soulmates after all! They can’t get in the way of that, they’ll just be over here outside the kingdom fucking off and not being a annoying.

meanwhile these two after no more than a day with minimal sightings of their beloved are like- “…?!? Where is our little cookie, our darling, hello???” Lmao

I think this can lead to some interesting scenarios and outcomes, chew on this as much or as little as you like. Love your writings either way, see ya!

🍓Bro, I'm super depressed lol. I'm really isolated in Japan, and I struggle to socialize with others, so making friends hasn't been much of an option for me. I know it'll get better, I hope it will, but it's just really dragging me down. Luckily, that shitty mood is perfect for writing angst, and what better angst than feeling left out, amirite?? Seriously though, I'm fine. Don't worry about me.

TW: None(?)

Info: Shadow Milk x Reader x Pure Vanilla; angst to fluff

Soulmates are a concept only heard about in romance novels- ones that you'd read curled up against Pure Vanilla's side. They were cheesy things, making you cringe at times from the sappy, poetic nothings the authors would come up with. Yet, you liked the idea of soulmates. You even, for a moment, thought that maybe Pure Vanilla was yours. He always smiled when you suggested it, his face full of love and admiration. 'How romantic', he would muse, then smother you in a million kisses. Thinking about it now, maybe his deflecting of the subject was a sign.

You were not Pure Vanilla Cookie's soulmate, nor were you Shadow Milk Cookie's. No, that title belonged to the two of them - a shared connection through their souljam that kept them tied to each other. A privilege that you did not have, one that you felt jealousy burn deeply in your dough over.

It's not as though either of them made you feel left out; in fact, they did everything they could to include you. There was no reason for you to feel neglected between their constant smothering. You did, though. You did quite frequently.

Maybe it was the way they seemed to understand each other so seamlessly, unspoken conversations happening with the glance of an eye. Perhaps it was the fact that they had an easy flow of conversation no matter the situation that you simply lacked when you were all together. No, those things didn't bother you, not really. What it was is the way they look at each other. Such longing and affection that you have never seen directed your way - a connection that you could never have with either of them.

You always brushed the feeling off, knowing better than to let those thoughts consume you. They'd be rather disappointed if you gave in to such silly lies. What, with how much they proved you wrong, it would be stupid to listen... This time, though, this time it was all consuming. Like flames eating up a paper house, you could not stop the spread of sheer isolation in your bones.

You had been late to a planned dinner, gotten too wrapped up in your work. It was fine; you knew they would forgive you, but you hoped that they hadn't waited up for you too long. You'd dressed yourself up nicely in a few minutes and ran to the dining hall, only to stop short of the doors when you heard their conversations. Nothing out of the ordinary, of course, just idle prattle that was typical of them... but somehow, it stung. When you peeked in through a crack in the door, it burned in your chest to see them so gleeful without you. You felt as though you should turn away and allow them to eat without you; it wouldn't be any different if you were there or not. They clearly did not feel your absence.

You would've, too, if not for Shadow Milk catching a glance at you for a moment and practically tugging you to the table. You were quiet during dinner, and their conversation did not slow down for you. It was like salt in the wound, but you swallowed the pain so as to not alert them. It was better to suffer in silence for the betterment of them both, you believed, so that is what you would do.

You quietly gave them their space, turning down invitations and outright avoiding places they would frequent in favor of quiet corners of the kingdom. Neither of them sought you out for two days, two full days. It only solidified in your mind that they did not need you around, and perhaps... perhaps they didn't want you around. They might've been keeping you at their side out of pity because you loved Pure Vanilla first, then Shadow Milk. The thought made your stomach twist sickeningly, eyes stinging with tears you refused to let fall. This was the fate of someone in love with soulmates, after all, it was not your place to come between them.

That didn't mean it wasn't breaking your heart.

What you weren't aware of, however, was how they had been feeling. Shadow Milk noticed your quiet demeanor first, feeling uneasy when you had first been late to dinner, then were practically silent the entire time. You'd hardly finished your food as well, and it was your favorite (He'd made sure of it too). All red flags that something or someone was giving you issue, yet, he stupidly decided not to press it when Pure Vanilla insisted they allow you to handle things on your own.

That hadn't worked out too well for them, now had it? You were, undoubtedly, avoiding both of them. That wasn't going to fly for much longer, not when Shadow Milk was so deprived and starved for your attention. He was going to get to the bottom of this, and Pure Vanilla was going to help, too.

"Perhaps we should give them more time. Sometimes they like to be alone," Pure Vanilla insisted again, trying his best to keep up with Shadow Milk Cookie's rapid strides across the streets of the kingdom.

Shadow Milk rolls his eyes, "Two days, is enough for any normal cookie to worry - is this how you handled everything before me?"

"Well..." He trails off, shame heating his dough.

Another scoff from Shadow Milk Cookie, and he picks up the pace, "If I were my sweet little starlight, where would I be...?"

He thinks it over, tapping his chin dramatically a few times. You weren't in the library, the garden, the pagoda, or even the quiet little shady spot behind the castle. If you were avoiding them, though, being there wasn't exactly smart - and you were Shadow Milk's smart little cookie, after all. Truthfully, you could be anywhere in the kingdom, and while Pure Vanilla would happily overturn every single rock to find you, he just didn't have the patience for that.

Pure Vanilla was equally stumped and far more worried than his other half at your sudden change in persona. You had never acted like this, not once. It was odd, and it made his skin crawl with worry. You could take care of yourself, of course, but why were you avoiding them? How did they hurt you? How could they fix it? Well, they would have to find you first to get the answers to those questions.

As Shadow Milk mulls over what to do, Pure Vanilla recalls somewhere you'd shown him once. He's not sure why the memory comes to the forefront of his mind, but he's happy for it. It was a small clearing a short walk from the kingdom's gates, 'the perfect getaway' you'd called it. If you would be anywhere... well, it was worth a try.

Finding the place without your guidance was hard, made even harder by Shadow Milk's constant complaining. Still, the two pressed on, through the gates and the trees and the beaten down path until finally they saw you. Sitting peacefully as you read some novel, leaned up against a tree with a saddened expression on your face. You looked tired, too tired. What could you be feeling to make you look like that.

You turn when you hear shuffling a few feet from you, tensing a bit at the sight of your lovers. They looked worried sick, brows furrowed and frowns etched deep on their faces. Oh, you felt so guilty seeing them like this. Knowing you were the cause of it all because of silly little emotions you couldn't keep in check. You go to apologize but are cut off with a squeal as Shadow Milk tackles you into a tight hug. Pure Vanilla rushing after him in a panic.

Your world spins for a moment, but you manage to hug the cookie back just as tightly. You felt stupid for being so upset, especially when this was his reaction to your absence. You had only tortured everyone with your petty actions.

"Where have you been, Starlight? Don't tell me you've been avoiding us, because if you have been-"

"Shadow Milk." Pure Vanilla scolds sternly, pulling him back as he kneels next to you with a soft smile, "What's going on, my love? You have both of us worried."

You sigh, avoiding their eyes, "I know... I'm sorry."

Shadow Milk's eyes narrow at you. "What's the issue then?"

You hesitate, wanting to curl in on yourself and hide. They wouldn't let you though, surrounding you at both sides. Everywhere you looked there was one of them in your line of sight. You couldn't escape it, they would be getting an answer out of you one way or another, so you give up.

"I... might've... sort've... been a little jealous..." You admit.

They both seem surprised at the idea, as if it had never crossed either of their minds that this could be the issue. Shadow Milk even starts to giggle about it, in complete disbelief at your statement. Pure Vanilla doesn't pay him any mind, placing a gentle hand under your chin to get you to look at him. His expression is gentle as he takes you in, and you can see the relief in his body as you take him in.

"What is there to be jealous of?" He asks, and there is no room to argue with him. It only makes you feel more stupid.

"I just thought- you know... the two of you are..." They look at you curiously. "You're soulmates. Sometimes, it feels like there's no room for me."

Pure Vanilla frowns, ready to assure you, but Shadow Milk beats him to the punch. His arms worm around you and press you into his chest. "What a silly thought. Don't you know how much you mean to us?"

"Of course I do, but-"

"Then there's nothing to worry about! Dontcha know that we wouldn't have looked so hard for ya if we didn't care?" He hummed, and you can't really argue with that.

"You complete us," Pure Vanilla joins in finally, holding your hands tightly in his, "We would be worse off without you around, so please... tell us next time."

You nod after a second, finally relaxing into Shadow Milk's side. You were surprised they hadn't been harsh about it, but... that's more proof that you mean so much to him. They love you, and there's no reason to doubt that, not when they're holding you like this. Not when they make you feel so loved, even when you feel like you shouldn't be.

[a-very-tired-jew]

The Columbia University Taskforce on Antisemitism 2nd Report is out. And it's a doozy. https://president.columbia.edu/sites/default/files/content/Announcements/Report-2-Task-Force-on-Antisemitism.pdf

Before I get into the nitty gritty of it let me pretty much summarize and paraphrase the Taskforce's position: "Holy shit the antisemitism on campus is so much worse than we thought, and it's repeatedly done by people saying they're 'just anti-Zionists'".

Let's start with the Taskforce's working definition of antisemitism.

Fig. 1. Columbia Taskforce on Antisemitism definition of antisemitism

This is a pretty good definition as it includes such things as Holocaust Denial, perceived ties to Israel, double standards, and all the usual things. It pretty much encompasses everything we have witnessed and experienced since Oct 7th. However, the Taskforce then follows it up with this bit.

Fig. 2. Columbia Taskforce on Antisemitism says their definition should not be used outside of training and education.

By saying that their working definition of antisemitism should not be used outside of training and education purposes the Taskforce is pretty much admitting upfront that the antisemitism they are reporting on falls well within their definition and breaks Columbia University code of conduct to the point where the perpetrators would and should receive various punishments ranging from suspensions to expulsions to revocations.

This is an example of the double standards that Jews experience. If this was a taskforce working to find evidence and address any other form of bigotry and racism then there would be recommendations made using the working definition. The irony is that they talk about double standards right in their definition. Now, of course the whole argument comes down to First Amendment Rights. But speech that induces and instigates violence against individuals and/or ethnic/racial groups is not protected. Considering that the Taskforce found calls to violence against Jews then this is not covered. Furthermore, while supporting terrorism is covered by the First Amendment, material support includes distributing terrorist approved and produced materials, of which many students and groups like CUAD are on record doing (even on their own social media) is not.

The report then does what we always, always, always see when it comes to anything with antisemitism. It recommends training on antisemitism AND islamophobia. Now, I am for this personally. A lot of others might be like "Why link the two?! It's always like this!" but I think training on both serves a purpose.

Explicit training and education on what is antisemitism and what is islamophobia. Such things as criticism of the Israeli government's actions, Hamas's actions and rhetoric, the Nakba and the Farhud, the Arab League, and so on being the things that come to mind as examples of not antisemitism or islamophobia. Then getting into the things like stereotypes and conspiracies and how criticism can easily fall into these, how people often seed in "innocuous" conspiracies that are actually the gateway to more serious hateful ones and how to recognize that ploy.

By having courses and training on what is and what isn't either of the two you start to address that leftover guilt since the 9/11 era that has prevented any and all criticism of Islam, Islamic groups, and Islamic regimes for fear of being labeled "Islamophobic". We have seen since Oct 7th the projection of "Jews are weaponizing antisemitism to prevent criticism of Israel" from groups that defend the use of Hadiths that call for the death of Jews under the guise of "you're being Islamophobic" as a means to prevent criticism.

Now, will such education and training actually address these issues? Of course not. They'll likely be opposed and never implemented.

Let's move on, shall we? The report then gets into it's introduction and tells us that they heard from nearly 500 students ranging from undergrads to post-docs about their antisemitic experiences. These testimonies come from Zionists, anti-Zionists, non-Zionists, and those the Taskforce couldn't exactly label. Furthermore, those that did not attend the listening sessions did what we've seen all antisemite do since 10/7; they denied the experience of these students and the Taskforce acknowledges this.

That's huge.

Acknowledging that the greater Columbia University community is denying the antisemitic experiences of these students whom are across the political spectrum and academic experience is signaling to the antisemites that the victims will not be drowned out by the mob with pitchforks.

They then follow it up with this.

Fig. 3. Acknowledgement that the antisemitism students are experiencing does lead to physical violence and has historical precedent.

The Taskforce is admitting and acknowledging that Columbia University has failed in fulfilling part of its mandate in protecting students and addressing acts of bigotry, hate, and violence towards students and students of a particular group. By also acknowledging that antisemitic rhetoric has a historical precedent of leading to physical violence they are also admitting that they know how bad it is and it needs to be addressed.

They then recommend that the university change its policies because of the utter failure to address these incidents. Further elaborating that some of the incidents actually violate state and federal law and that the university is culpable in such cases and the university itself is, once again, adhering to double standards for its Jewish and Israeli students.

The report then goes into the incidents students experienced starting with section 1B. Student Experiences in Day-to-Day Encounters. I will not go over that here in detail, but it contains multiple testimonies and excerpts from testimonies about the antisemitism the Jewish students experienced since 10/7. What is important to note is that the Taskforce acknowledges the "slippage" of anti-Zionism into antisemitism in the majority of these incidents, that the perpetrators don't think they're doing so, but to everyone else it is very clearly happening.

Fig. 4. Taskforce stating that anti-Zionist activities have fallen into classic antisemitic tropes and canards on Columbia's campus(es).

Furthermore, the Taskforce acknowledges that Jewish and Israeli students purposefully had their words misinterpreted to villainize them. Any attempt at facilitating discussion or understanding was dismissed with heavy prejudice.

The Taskforce also talks about how social media has played a role in the harassment of Jewish and Israeli students.

Fig. 5. Student testimony and screenshotting of antisemitism online from Columbia students and orgs.

Moving on to section C. Student Experiences in Clubs, we find one of the most heinous incidents.

Fig. 6. Founder of an LGBTQIA+ group defends their antisemitism then acknowledges it and brags that they got away with it.

This incident highlights one of the issues we have seen since 10/7 where people place Jews as "white oppressors" to validate their antisemitism. They engage in open antisemitic conspiracy and defend it through the use of progressive language that makes it difficult, if not impossible, to address their bigotry. Why? Because a person like this will fall back to being a minority themselves to say that they can't be a bigot. This type of defense is hypocritical and is solely used to silence any attempt to address their hate, to which this student fully acknowledges as she bragged that she got away with it.

This is why Columbia University apologizing to Khymani James after expelling them for their comments about "Zionists don't deserve to live" and that we were "lucky" they weren't out there killing them right now is so abhorrent. Across the internet we saw accusations of white supremacy and silencing BIPOC and queer voices because of Khymani's sexual identity and ethnicity. Is this not the kind of weaponization that antisemites accuse Jews of? This is projection and the testimony above and the Khymani incident highlight this type of behavior. You don't get to be a hateful bigot simply because you're a minority, but the double standard for Jews is a consistent issue.

As the report continues we then find out that the CUAD is not just one group, but actually a coalition that has multiple student clubs and organizations underneath it. CUAD demands that its member clubs and orgs adhere to its mission and rhetoric. According to the report, any student in a club or org that didn't express outright (((anti-Israel))) sentiment was silenced and eventually ousted and/or removed. In almost all incidents, any group signing on or joining the CUAD coalition did not abide by their own rules and excluded any and all Jewish and Israeli students from the process. If they spoke up they were told their opinions did not matter and were removed.

This coalition is further expanded upon in section E (I'm skipping D as it is about curriculum issues and is much shorter). Testimony points out that CUAD is a coalition made of over a hundred student organizations and that they are also bringing in outsiders to the campus. So the claims of "outside agitators" are moot because it was CUAD who brought them there in the first place. The intent was also never to be a peaceful protest or encampment as multiple testimonies talk about the violent language and actions within the encampments and across the campus(es). Specifically the language being used during "vigils" was not about peace or in memorium, but celebrating death and highlighting violence. The issues that the Taskforce learned are, I think, best encapsulated by this paragraph from page 36 in section G.

Fig. 7. Paragraph highlighting how Columbia is now seen as an antisemitic university.

I can attest to Columbia now being seen as the antisemitic university. Its reputation is entirely tarnished by the administrations refusal to act on the very real and violent antisemitism that has been present on its campus since the days after 10/7. I know professors who have turned down jobs, grad students that have withdrawn applications, and donors that have stopped giving.

This report by Columbia University's own personnel provides evidence that contradicts the narrative we have been told by members of the CUAD encampment(s) as well as people across social media; that the antisemitism is fake and made up to prevent criticism of Israel. The Taskforce admits that they were astonished by how bad it actually was and that the university refused to do anything. This should be telling to anyone who has witnessed these claims by people trying to dismiss concerns regarding antisemitism in the pro-Palestine movement. We've seen this across social media and this site where antisemites accuse Jews of being Nazis while they themselves spew antisemitic rhetoric straight out of the Protocols and the Third Reich.

Antisemites will always try and paint Jews as the actual perpetrators of hate, violence, and villainy while they themselves commit those very same acts (that is not to say that no Jew has every committed a crime or any such act themselves, but the projection that we have seen by antisemites is massive). This Taskforce report has multiple testimonies of Jewish students just trying to exist and go about their lives to only be harassed and assaulted for the crime of living while Jewish.

I am going to end this post here as the next section after the testimonies and incidents of antisemitism goes into recommendations for the university and actions to be taken. That is a separate post that will be couched in this one later on.

[rdng1230]

In the movies, everything grows quiet when you see the love of your life across the room. Not this time.

Seeing Tommy tilting his head at another man just makes everything louder, drowning out hope, conversation, reason.

And whatever residual sense he had from the first glance is utterly demolished when the stranger leans forward and pats, no caresses Tommy's face.

Suddenly there's another shot glass in his hand and Ravi's clinking it with his own. "Umm, Buck you know you're staring right?" The sound barely reaches him over the din.

"Right?" Ravi calls again, and this time it's accompanied by enough of a shoulder nudge to snap him back into the bar. "Shit." He stares down at his own feet and clears the walkway he's probably been blocking for at least a minute.

Back in their booth, Buck leans onto the table to keep himself upright. Ravi is better company than he would've thought, keeping him pleasantly distracted and filling him in on all the war stories from his transfer over at the 122. Their gangling probies, crafty paramedics, and the gruff, but solid Captain keeping them (mostly) out of trouble.

It's a funny thing, to hear about other houses and see how they tick. Firefighting is Buck's calling, but his life could've gone so differently had he been assigned elsewhere.

"Speak of the devil!" Ravi calls, hauled out of his chair by none other than Tommy's... ok admittedly handsome stranger. "Panikkar, you don't call you don't write??" They exchange a handshake and a pat on the back and Ravi sits back down, scooting his chair in so the man can stand closer without blocking everything.

"Buck, this is Captain Deluca of the 122. Cap, this is Evan Buckley of the 118." Ravi waves his arms in between them and Buck has to fight biting off his own tongue when the Captain extends his hand. "Sal is fine, heard a lot about you golden boy."

"Wish I could say the same." He fires back, a little more forceful than he means to. "Well that answers that question." Sal says under his breath, taking the seat next to Ravi without being invited. Maybe that's this guy's deal, taking other people's.... everything. Without asking.

"Do I need to guard my ankles?" Sal laughs and the familiarity turns Buck's stomach. Is that what he is to Tommy now? A joke to tell his new flings? Only the way Sal caught Tommy's cheek earlier, he doubts that their relationship stops there.

"Easy, easy Buckley, we've got T minus 3 minutes before my boy over there realizes that his boy is over here. So let me be very blunt."

"All due respect Captain, I don't think you have another setting." Ravi giggles into his shot glass before tossing it back. Sal rolls his eyes at his former employee before continuing.

"He fucked up. He knows it. I know it. You know it. And this is the furthest thing from fair and you're well within your rights to tell me to fuck off, but I swear I can't handle his sad little kicked puppy face anymore especially when he's the one who did the kicking."

Buck's jaw falls open, leaning in closer to Sal like he's afraid he's misheard. "So here's what's gonna happen hotshot. I'm gonna grab the next round, and then flyboy is gonna handle the one after that. I suggest it be you he bumps into and not some rando. Up to you though."

He stands up and claps their mutual lightweight friend on the shoulder. "Good seeing you Ravi." Sal turns his eyes towards Buck and smiles, and he's happy to see the malice in Sal's smile isn't there at all, it's amusement, and maybe just a dash of commiseration. "Don't let him go kid." The graying captain joins the fray on drunkards, tossing a "Trust me." over his shoulder.

"You gonna take his advice?" Ravi finally asks once he realizes Buck has completely stopped paying attention to the story he had been in the middle of when Sal arrived. Buck feels glued to the vinyl seat, his head on a swivel waiting for Tommy to be in sight. "He-he dumped me." Buck finally gets out.

Ravi's shoulders slump like he's disappointed with the answer. "But you miss him?" He prods again, staring at him with kind and inquisitive eyes.

Words are entirely insufficient for the answer, so instead Buck just nods. Ravi points his finger onto the table, drawing his case to a close. "Well Tommy clearly misses you. Cap can be an asshole, but the upside is the man doesn't lie. Tact and him are like oil and water."

Ravi sucks his teeth and takes another shot. "Hey man it's your choice."

Buck tosses back a shot himself for luck. "I think I need another drink." He gets up awkwardly, positioning himself to be just a little too bump-into-able. It's not long until a familiar form collides with his shoulder.

"Tommy." He breathes out, a thousand pounds instantly lifted off his shoulder.

"Evan." His ex breathes out without thinking, not daring to pull away from the hand that's taken his.

[wolviesdoll]

jason todd hcs & thoughts ... 𝜗𝜚

⤷ craves intimacy in the gentlest way possible. lingering touches and soft fingers running through his hair, innocent kisses peppering his face and the scars that littered his skin. he's so used to the harsh ruthlessness of his life, all he needs is a warm pair of open arms to collapse into at the end of the day. all he needs is what he's never had.

⤷ loves romance/romcoms. a feeling of longing sits heavy on his chest the entirety of the film, but it's a reminder that he's capable of feeling more than than the unexplainable anger running through his veins. watching romantic movies lets his mind escape temporarily.

⤷ yearns to be loved so wholeheartedly. despite all the bad, all the rough and difficult parts of himself, all the blood he's spilled that just won't wash off his hands, he wants someone who loves him regardless.

⤷ at the same time, he believes he's hard to love. how could anyone love all of him? he can be brash and hard to deal with, he's quiet and has a bad habit of pulling away. he's afraid to get attached and crack his ribs open to reveal his heart to anyone, but deep down he wants that one person who can reduce him to such a lovestruck fool.

⤷ once he's found someone, he gets clingy. it's a difficult balance to maintain; fighting his instinct to be unreasonably needy while making sure his partner didn't feel suffocated by his affection. he finds a way, though. he's clingy in the way he's always on the cusp of begging for cuddles and kisses. he never will, not obviously, but it's clear he's thinking about giving up his pride when his green eyes shine with a quiet plea and his plush lips pull into the subtlest of frowns. he's clingy because he's afraid to lose the one person who sees all of him and loves it all.

⤷ maybe a consequence of his fear of abandonment, he is also fiercely protective. never in the controlling sense. he'll never tell his partner what to wear or when they can or can't go out — he trusts them. but he will he by their side the entire time, like a mean guard dog that growls at possible danger. except in this case, jason uses his strong, tall and imposing figure to scare off any poor souls who think they could approach his partner. they're his just as much as he's hopelessly theirs.

quick hcs :

྾ creates playlists for his partner and listens to it whenever he's away and misses them.

྾ really playful. the type to be left on delivered for a second and respond with "so you hate me". he's playfully dramatic and teasing, there's never a dull moment with him.

྾ has a polaroid picture of his partner in his wallet. if he looses his wallet the first thing he worries about is that picture. not his id or credit cards, no, the picture. speaking of pictures, his camera roll is full of his partner. most are candid pictures/videos he took sneakily when he was just enamored by their appearance. others were a little sillier, "unflattering" as his partner says, but he vehemently disagrees. some are a little filthy, but he keeps those hidden.

྾ switches shoes if his partner's feet hurt after wearing heels for a night out. no complaint from him except a smug "i told you so" when he warned them prior to leaving home. he'd walk around in just his socks before his partner took another step in their painful heels.

྾ carved his partner's initial on the barrel of one of his guns. his good luck charm.

[arciam]

Underrated JayVik moments/lines (15/∞)

"You had a vision?"

This entry is very loosely inspired by a post I saw about how Jayce really ought to be more bewildered by the fact that Viktor just told him he had a vision while tripping balls on his own lung-blood inside the HexGates. /paraphrased

I know on this blog we like to lovingly rip into Jayce for being a serial fumbler at supporting the casual love of his life (or no, I don't really like to do that - I love both my boys and just wish they didn't have to stay miserable until two minutes before annihilation is all), but this made me think of how there is one way in which Jayce is actually much "better" at supporting Viktor than the other way around.

See, Viktor - by virtue of being a person of uncompromising principles - is prone to the pitfall of... not being very generous with regards to other people's perceived failings or weaknesses. Or his own, for that matter.

Jayce isn't exempt from this - furthest thing from it, in fact.

Yes, Viktor does always quickly forgive (and doesn't forget) Jayce's numerous blunders. But that doesn't negate the fact that anytime Jayce ventures outside Viktor's expectations of who he is - or who he could be, ought to be -, the dissatisfaction is immediate, sharp and unfaltering. While Viktor's love for Jayce is unconditional, his approval most certainly isn't.

That's not a bad thing in itself; Viktor is (generally speaking) entitled to his disapproval, and as I said, it is merely the flipside of his strong convictions.

However, compare this to Jayce, who doesn't seem to have any set expectations whatsoever as to who Viktor should be. Or the decisions he should make. Jayce will happily go along with any twist and turn in Viktor's thought processes and actions, not only because they are fascinating to him, but because he trusts and admires Viktor implicitly.

(To my knowledge, the only time Jayce expresses discontentment with an action taken by pre-Herald Viktor is during their argument on the bridge, which is driven by immense worry and fear on Jayce's part, and he also backpedals immediately.)

Here are some examples of Jayce not beating the golden retriever allegations embracing Viktor unconditionally:

You're suggesting we should amplify the power of the thing that blew up half a building yesterday? Let's roll!

You're snapping at me for taking my new job too seriously? Yeah, guess I deserve that...

You had a vision? (While tripping balls on your lung-blood?) Tell me more!

The thing that came to you in said vision is making plants scream now? You're so cool, Vik.

You carved runes in your skin and started experimenting on yourself in ways your mentor said would make everyone hate you? "I did my best using the notes from your leg, recorded everything!"

Those experiments pulverised our only assistant? ...We can fix that.

You're leaving because affection isn't holding us together anymore..? Well, I'll stay and sleep here in case you come back, I guess...

You've lost your mind and got me in the exact position where I already saw my future corpse? Eh - I'll close my eyes and trust that you'll come to your senses in time.

The fact that - for however subject to change most of everything else about Jayce was - the love and acceptance Singed told Viktor he would have to forfeit in order to live never once wavered for even a second... it just kind of gets to me, okay?

Part 1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15

← Prev | Next →

[chamomiletealeaf]

(Wholesome one!) Can you do a little fic of Simon wanting a teddy bear for at home but being too embarrassed to ask? Sorry to bother! -☺️

Awww this is so cute!! (I started this months ago and never finished it so I'M SO SORRY FOR HOW LATE THIS RESPONSE IS ANON OMG)

Warnings: none! <3

Simon was used to being away for long periods of time due to his deployment. But when he came home, he knew you would always be there. He always had something to come home to until one time you were away visiting friends or family for the weekend not knowing he was coming home and he missed you so much he thought he was going insane.

He would kill anyone who found this out, but he would snuggle with your stuffed animals while you were away since he didn't know what else to do without you. Your stuffed animals were the closest thing to you he could snuggle.

He called you every hour to make sure you were ok and to grumble when you told him you'd be gone for another day.

When you finally came home you found him asleep in your bed cuddled up with all your stuffed animals. Such a big manly man in such a cute girly bed was so adorable you had to take a picture and make it your homescreen (let's hope he never figures that part out).

So when he wakes up to you laying next to him, he throws the stuffed animal on the other side of the bed and snuggles you instead.

"I missed you so much lovie." He says crushing you with his hug and kisses.

"I missed you too honey." You say kissing and hugging him back.

"Glad to see my little friends were keeping you company." You giggled and brushed his hair away from his forehead.

"What are you talking about." He mumbled, and you laughed.

"It's ok baby that's what they're there for. Do you want your own?" You tease.

"My own what? What are you talking about?" He starts to blush and tries to avoid eye contact.

Simon would never admit that it was nice to have a part of you to snuggle with while you were away. And your stuffed animals were pretty adorable too almost as cute as you. But you didn't hear that from him.

When you two watch movies together you always have a stuffed animal to snuggle and he gets a little jealous. He can't tell if he's jealous that you're cuddling your stuffed animal and not him, or that he isn't the one snuggling into you like that, or maybe that he wants one to snuggle too. They were pretty cute. and soft. and- what is he talking about it's just a silly toy.

When he makes the bed he started to carefully place each one of your stuffed animals on the bed neatly and you can't help but giggle watching him handle them with such care.

You know he'd never admit it, but Simon Riley has a soft spot for more than just you now.

So, you get him his own stuffed animal. A little fuzzy teddy bear wearing a tshirt with a picture of you and Simon on it.

"What is this?" He asks, trying not to smile. But you see the corners of his mouth twitching.

"It's for you." You say, watching his cheeks turn pink.

"Oh.. uh.. thank you love." He says, not being able to hold back from petting the tiny bear's fur.

"You like it." You tease.

"It's from you of course I like it." He says.

"No I mean I got this for you because I know you want your own honey." You giggle. "So when I'm away, or when we watch movies together, you can have that as a reminder of me."

Simon couldn't help but let himself finally smile at how cute you were and that he finally got his own teddy bear even though he would never admit wanting one.

He treated that bear like his child, and you kinda hope he never finds out that you sent Johnny a picture of him asleep with it....

[muqingslover]

[ I absolutely adore Caleb and recently I've entered my Zayne era so today I want to talk about their relationship. (not based on canon just the voices in my head) ]

Yes they might have their issues but I wouldn't say they outright hate each other's guts. I believe they would actually be really good friends if their feelings for you wasn't part of the equation. Their dynamic works out sooooo good for one another if it wasn't for the conflict of interest it actually pains me that we won't see them getting along GRAAAH Infold I beg of you give me content of them together

Like I've mentioned before I like to think that their beef is mostly one-sided which, to me, means Zayne would be the more "mature" of the pair. He has a naturally caring nature so despite being aware Caleb doesn't like him (and they're technically competing for your heart) he can't help but worry about him, especially because you care about him.

Each time boy wonder showed up with bruises and scratches from practice or some other endeavor Zayne would force him to sit down and let him take a look by using the argument of "Do you want them to worry? Then sit. I'll make it quick."

Another sweet thought is Zayne coming over after his classes and finding you and Caleb dozing off while studying together. He would cover both with a blanket and remove anything that could interfere with your or his sleep (music playing, turning off the TV, glasses ECT)

Meanwhile Caleb reads him better than anyone. He may complain about how Zayne is so "stone faced" the whole time, but he KNOWS exactly what he's thinking and feeling for most of the time without even really trying. It's a skill he picked up while growing up — He always paid so much attention to the details for your sake that at some point he ended up getting very good at reading people in general.

What this means you may ask? Well my lovelies, Caleb is much more confident in expressing himself and he knows how to refuse requests he feels uncomfortable with or simply don't want to do (safe it for when they're about/from you) but Zayne not always can do that. In fact, during his early years, he was absolutely terrible at it and guess who came to rescue? That's right, our boy wonder.

"Please Zayne, just cover for me one more time?"

'...Oh, alrig—"

"Whoa whoa hold your horses! Sub-Zero has plans with me so no can't do, man."

"We don't—"

"Shush. Grab your things, let's go!"

He tells himself it's only because if Zayne worked himself to death then you would be worried about him and Caleb doesn't want to share any more attention than what he already has to. It's true of course, but not the full truth.

Caleb will pick up where he can't fully express himself by understanding what he wants without words while Zayne will be the rock he could lean on even if he is too stubborn to admit he needs the support because he doesn't feel the need to be the "perfect gege" like when with you.

[ I will continue to push the Zayne and Caleb agenda so come along for the ride pookies 🤭 ]

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello miss Raven! This is just a "for fun" question. We've all seen the idol outfits for the 5th anni, yea? Imagine if they were actually idols in their own groups and everything! What would you call each group?

*SLAMS HANDS ON DESK*

I’m so glad you asked so I have an excuse to sprinkle in details from my idol AU—

HEART5

The /s/ in HEART5 is replaced by the number 5 to represent the 5 members. The HEART can be interpreted as coming from Heartslabyul, or it can be read as the 5 united hearts of Riddle, Trey, Cater, Ace, and Deuce.

They can form card suits with their hands as part of their collective branding, haha. Or maybe they all have different ways of forming hearts with their hands? Fans can mimic the hand signals of whoever they stan.

Riddle’s probably very strict with his members and inspects their outfits + fixes them before they march onto the stage. (Trumpet accompaniment!!) In my idol AU, I like to think that he, Trey, and Chenya had their own little indie group (WoИd3rs) before Mrs. Rosehearts found out and made them disband 😭 (because she wants her son taking a more traditional route in the idol industry, ie signing with a major label). Everyone else followed to support him.

K\\\ngdom

K\\\ngdom is a play on the word "kingdom" because... well, assuming YOU-KNOW-WHO is the leader, he wants to assert that he's the one in charge. The three slashes in place of the /i/ are meant to resemble the claw marks typically associated with Savanaclaw. (Diasomnia’s group uses the slash mark too, which Leona is bitter about.)

bcjswbjwnzlss Just imagine them at a concert… “We are K\\\ngdom, hear us ROAR!!!” Rebellious vibe, drums to emulate stomping or a stampede? Maybe they even call their fans herbivores (even though that’s more of a Leona thing than a Ruggie and Jack thing), lmao 😂 Ruggie might call’m kittens? Jack thinks it’s embarrassing… Not Leona entering the entertainment industry to give the royal family the finger though/j 💀 Ruggie’s shameless; anything for the money.

I see Cheka being super excited to hear that ojitan is an idol. He bothers Kifaji to take him to concerts and then sneaks off backstage to surprise his uncle. Poor Kifaji has a heart attack seeing his second prince with his chest out all the time. (Leona casually tells him he’s just “making use” of his best assets + “this is how the industry works”.)

s!ren*z

s!ren*z is a fanciful version of "sirens", as in, the mythological figures (sometimes depicted as bird people, but in this case, it refers to the fish people variant) who sing to lure and drown sailors. The ! is supposed to look like a pen and nib, and the *z is meant to look like the flourish at the end of a signature.

I like to imagine that the twins used to be a jazzy duo (2weels) and Azul was their manager. They eventually bullied him so much that Azul joined as their third member to show how “easily” he can outdo them! Jade and Floyd thought this was really funny, so they formally rebranded and have been s!ren*z ever since.

dbjsvskskw. THEY CAN CALL FANS ANEMONES (lol reference to book 3)!! Azul likes to keep track of their stats and merch sales after every major event, I think he gets an adrenaline high from seeing those big numbers. His ego swells significantly from all the attention and approval he gets from the public. Unfortunately, Azul and Jade constantly have to cover for Floyd going off-script mid-show.

OASI2

OASI2 has its roots in the word "oasis"; Kalim wanted the group name to sound refreshing and fun, like hitting a source of water in the middle of the desert! It's also a callback to his UM. The 2 refers to the number of members. When paired with the /s/, it kind of forms a heart (though Jamil insists the /s/ is meant to be a snake, not the other half of a heart). The /s/ being the snake in the center is also symbolic of how it's really Jamil keeping the performances together.

I picture Kalim’s entire family coming out with light sticks to support him. Najma is more tsundere with her support. She’ll wrinkle her nose and insist it’s weird to hear people thirsting for her brother (but secretly she’s happy for his success).

I think they’d have very extravagant performances www Smoke, fireworks, bombastic music, fancy dancing, even the magic carpet can cameo. Kalim can toss gold and jewels into the crowd! Jamil struggles to keep him from going overboard. Both of them are great at dancing; Jamil’s the rapper.

{fair}est

The {} on either side of the word "fair" is meant to resemble the intricate frame of a mirror; "fair" within that frame is a reference to how the Beautiful Queen asked her mirror who was fairest of them all. The -est outside of the {} mirror is symbolic of their drive to be the best. The entire group name being in lowercase is deceptive; they may seem demure, but don't underestimate the power of their beauty!

A group with very strong visuals. It helps that they have THE Vil Schoenheit as its leader and center. Does modeling work on the side. Their collective sura is so strong, they sometimes seem untouchable. In strong rivalry with Neige and the Seven Dwarves’ group, EtSno yes, I stole his in-universe fan club’s name and just smushed it together/j, whose tagline is “Someday, my princess will come.”

It would be neat if they incorporated other languages into their songs, since Rook has his French and Epel has his hometown’s dialect. They could truly go global!

Ch∀r0N

Ch∀r0N is a reference to Charon, the figure in Greek mythology that ferries the souls of the dead to the Underworld, Hades' domain. The inverted A is an emoticon's mouth, which the /o/ is a 0 (zero) and N is ironic. Together, 0N looks like "on", but in binary, 0 means "off" or "false". Incorporates tech and coding into the name, basically!

Very unique-sounding. They can incorporate electronic bleeps and boops + synthesized voices. Their shows are amazing displays of light and sound, carefully manipulated by tech. Jcvsjwjowwk Idia being too socially anxious to actually show up in-person to perform 💀 so he just projects a 3D model of himself up there with Ortho…

Parents are their biggest fans. Mrs. Shroud shows up and screeches “OR-KUN!! IDY-KUN!!! IT’S MAMA!!”

D + KN/GHTS

The D in D + KN/GHTS stands for Draconia, so the name is the one dragon plus his three knights. (Ironically, this works on a meta level because Malleus is often a "standout" or lone figure.) The slash in KN/GHTS is to invoke the image of a sword cutting down those who threaten their leader and liege. Their fans can probably be called Draconians, the same as what the hardcore Malleus fans in canon are called.

In an idol AU… Malleus definitely has to rank #1. (Leona is always hounding him and trying to knock him down from that spot 💦) People are just drawn to his mysterious aura, but he’s always surrounded and guarded by his group members. Perhaps Malleus went into music because that’s how his mother showed his love to him—through her lullaby. He wants to share the magic of music with the world. So haunting and somber, he captivates with his voice alone.

Sebek is still Malleus’s biggest fan. Buys all the merch. Hypes his liege up by encouraging their crowd to scream as loud as they can. If Silver falls asleep mid-performance, they still gotta keep it going without him. Lilia puts the boys through hellish practice routines.

[m00ntunaart]

*gasp* DRAGON DIN? OF MY OWN DESIGN? 🤩 Eek thank you for drawing him! I’m so glad other people seem to like this crossover! I should stop being surprised, but I never expect other people to be into my niche AUs. A pleasant surprise for sure.

As for my thoughts, you didn’t have to draw dragon Din to get me to yap lol. I would have done that if anyone even IMPLIED they maybe wanted to hear my AU ideas. But hey, I’ll take a Dragon Din bribe 😏😂

The Bad Batch:

I’ve actually thought about little about this already, and even asked my IG followers about it. But in my AU all the clones are MudWings, and the Batchers are too. EXCEPT they are MudWing hybrids. Each of them are half MudWing, half another dragon species. My idea for this is that all the clones are made by a “Kaminoan” (some SeaWing) who uses an old Animus object to clone Jango Fett (the original MudWing) and make the clones. Something along those lines at least. And either there’s a weird blood moon/eclipse during the cloning process of the batch which leads to them being hybrids (it was unintentional), or like Dooku (Jedi still have Force powers in this AU) does something to their eggs that turns them into hybrids. Speaking of them being hybrids, their mixes are:

Hunter - NightWing/MudWing

Wrecker - MudWing/SandWing

Crosshair - IceWing/MudWing

Tech - SkyWing/MudWing

Echo - just MudWing (he was a reg) but he does have his prosthetics still after Skako Minor

Omega -  just a MudWing BUT she’s an Albino MudWing (like Rex)

I choose NightWing mix for Hunter because I picture his design to be mostly MudWing looking (with a slimmer NightWing build) but half of his body is black (mimicking his canon half skull tattoo). Plus his “NightWing” abilities kinda work as his enhanced-senses from canon. He doesn’t have any REAL NightWing abilities. BUT he has a very light form of ‘future telling’ that allows him to ‘see’ a few moments into the future to tell when, how and where someone MIGHT attack. But it’s not 100% and he can’t see more than 60 seconds ahead. He can’t REALLY tell the future.

Wrecker is a SandWing Mix just because I kinda didn’t know what else for him. He’s the most ‘MudWing’ like in my mind, so I didn’t think any other dragon species really matched him. But the desert durability of the SandWings seemed to be good for Wrecker. He’s the team’s tough guy (with a sweet heart).

Crosshair is a IceWing mix because what else would he be? The paler colors? The cold personality? Duh, he had to be a IceWing Mix. Plus it could maybe add to his grumpy personality. He’s always in a bad mood because he has to live in hot/temperate biomes when he’s basically half Arctic animal. He’s sweating his ass off lol.

Tech is a SkyWing mix because he’s the pilot (In canon)! Tech’s big thing (aside from being the technology guy) was being the team’s pilot and being good at racing! He HAS to be a SkyWing mix to me! He’s the best at flying! Plus it seems like a lot of SkyWings are grumpy in personality, and Tech is absolutely one of the grumpiest/snarkiest of the team (maybe excluding Crosshair).

Echo is just a normal MudWing because he was just a regular clone before he joined the Batchers. However Skako Minor (or its AU’s equivalent) still happens in this AU and he gets a bunch of augmentations/prosthetics. He’s also just a lot more scarred and paler than the average clone.

Omega is ALSO just a MudWing, not a mix. BUT she’s albino! So all white with pale eyes! (Just like Rex in this AU). Plus in my AU she’s an undiscovered Animus.

And speaking of Animus, I need to talk about my thoughts on the Jedi/Force Sensitives/Animus in this AU:

So in this AU, being Force Sensitive and being an Animus are two separate things. Though you can be both at the same time, but you don’t need to be both to be one of them. Force sensitivity still works the same in this AU to canon. Some dragons are just born with connections to the force (and hence can use powers). Many of them are taken in by the Jedi. The Jedi work basically like how the Jade Mountain Academy does in WOF. They adopt all force sensitive dragonetts from all tribes and take them to the Jade Mountain (this world’s Jedi Temple) to be trained. It’s the only place in the continent that has dragons from all tribes regularly living together. The Jedi aren’t aligned with any tribe specifically, but I imagine this AU’s version of the Clone Wars is like ‘The War of SandWing Succession’ in WOF. Where all the tribes align too one of two sides (Separatist vs Republic) and the Jedi end up aligning with the Republic (I haven’t decided which tribes are part of which group). ‘Being Animus, though, is separate from being Force Sensitive or Jedi, and works the same to WOF canon. Animus’s are just born with the power (it’s relatively hereditary), and anything they say becomes real, but the more they use the power they slowly lose their mind and become violent. Being an Animus is VERY VERY rare, and is thought to be an extinct ability even. Long ago the blood lines that carried the Animus ability were killed off. BUT this isn’t exactly true. In this AU Anakin Skywalker is the first Animus born in centuries! A force sensitive Animus at that! Which is why the Jedi are so scared to take him in at first. He’s super powerful, and the Tribes might attack the Jedi if they find out they are harboring the first Animus in centuries. I also imagine at this time, it’s been so long since Animus’s have been around, and so much information about them has been destroyed. So the Jedi actually don’t know about how Animus who use their powers start to lose their minds (which comes back to bite them as obv Anakin uses his powers and eventually falls to the darkside, loses his mind, and becomes Darth Vader). ‘I also Mentioned Omega is a unknown Animus, and I imagine in this AU, part of the Batchers’ adventures include finding out she’s a Animus, hiding that fact from everyone to protect her, and trying to find out more information to help train her.

‘But anyways, OMG THATS A LOT OF YAPPING. I hope this was what you were hoping for? These are my more thought out ideas for this AU. I still haven’t thought out things like Palpatine or which Tribes are aligned with which Star Wars groups (other than I’ve decided the NightWings are The Children Of The Watch). But hopefully that will satisfy ur want for lore for a bit. Because it’s all I have rn lol.

Thank you again for the BEAUTIFUL art and interest in my stuff! People wanting to hear more on my silly crossovers always makes my day!

Mandalorian characters as Wings Of Fire dragons? Uh, YES PLEASE.

Welcome to stage 5 of "MoonTuna draws the most self indulgent nonsense that no one asked for".

But anyways, yeah! My rambling thoughts on the characters and this AU:

Din Djarin (NightWing):

I imagine Din as NightWing because in this AU I picture the Death Watch/Children Of The Watch as the NightWing Tribe. And after the Death Watch’s war against the other Mandalorians, they go into hiding on the volcano island (like the NightWings do in the WOF books).

And Din is the tribe’s Beroya (Hunter), so he’s one of the few selected from the tribe to leave the island through the hidden tunnels to go back to Pyrrhia to hunt food for the tribe. 

During one of these trips I imagine he find Grogu! Who in this AU is a human (scavenger)! Because if everyone is dragons in this AU, then it just makes sense that Grogu is the human instead lol. Plus then Grogu is still small enough to be in a satchel Din carries around, like in the show.

But Grogu still has his Jedi powers in this AU. Which has never been seen before in humans. Thus ‘The Mandalorian’ type shenanigans where Din takes Grogu around trying to figure out WTH is up with this infant human.

(Also side note: in this AU I still picture there being Jedi/force sensitive dragons (the Jedi Order probably works similar to The Jade Mountain Academy. Where the Jedi are from all the tribes and live in the Jade Mountain. 

Also in this AU NightWings DO have their mind reading/future seeing powers. But like in the books, they loose them once they move to the island and don’t know why.

ALSO ALSO Animus still exists! But they work more like Force Sensitive where it’s just born in some dragons, and isn’t necessarily hereditary. And it’s SUPER rare. So rare that many believe Animus’s don’t exist. (I imagine Anakin Skywalker is the first Animus in centuries))

Cobb Vanth (Sand Wing):

Cobb is super straight forward. He’s a SandWing because he’s a cowboy from Tatooine. Of course he’s SandWing. Though in this AU I imagine he’s a lot like Thorn from the books, in that he’s the Marshal/leader of a town (Freetown) in the desert that isn’t under the Sand Kingdom’s rule. Also I imagine he’s one of the first dragons Din meets when he goes out on his journey to find information on Grogu. (Since the tunnels from the NightWing Island to the Rain Forest to the Sand Kingdom are all connected basically).

Boba Fett (MudWing):

Okay so Boba just had to be a MudWing. He had to be. Though it was less because of Boba’s character and more because he’s a clone. The clones all being close to each other, having battalions, and calling each other brothers? Uh, that’s like MudWings in the books to a TEA. So yeah, the clone troopers in this AU are MudWings, hence Boba also is a MudWing lol. Though I also liked it because older Boba Fett (and the older clones we see in the shows) are a lot bulkier and muscled with age. They get DILF bodies is what I’m saying lol (except for like Hunter apparently, he gets to keep his twink dad body). So the big MudWing body type works well for Boba and the clones. 

Fennec Shand (RainWing):

Fennec to me was a RainWing MOSTLY because as an assassin, her being able to camouflage and make herself look like other dragons was super RainWing coded. Plus having the subtle but deadly RainWing venom just matched her energy so much. Plus I love the idea that Fennec is kinda a “outcast” in RainWing society. Her ‘resting’ colors are dark, she knows how to fight and kill and LIKES it. She left the Rain Forest because the RainWing life style was nothing like her personality (very Glory from WOF like). Plus it plays into the idea that no one expects her to be dangerous or competent because she’s a RainWing, and then she murders you violently while still looking like a goddess (is my Fennec love showing yet? lol). Plus it’s why she and Boba get along, he treats her from the start like the dangerous criminal she is, and not like some ditsy RainWing. Also idk how Boba and Fennec taking over Jabba the Hutt’s palace works in this AU, but if so Fennec is definitely the one mainly running the show from behind the scenes. She was born to micromanage.