#cause i love my boy harry but hes very much a 40 year old man

[michaun]

meredith grey asking amelia shepherd if she has a cat and her response being im giving up on finding a human soulmate immediately followed up with a beautiful woman yelling at her hey I was waiting for that spot is peak queer women representation thank you season 20 of greys anatomy

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

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

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

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

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous.  ҉   next.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

r u dating sykkuno?

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

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

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

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

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

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

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

Corpse_Husband: yes.

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

pack it up, sykkuno

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

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

we are prepared

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

y/n is a child murderer

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

take a break and go eat queen <3

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

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

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

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

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

looking hot, her message read. 

thanks, was all you replied with.

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

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

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

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

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

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

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

[undeadvinyls]

omg i love your pvz ocs sm... picking them up and shaking real hard rn... do u have any sort of masterpost where i could read up on them?? im looking intensely

HEYO I- EBUEEBUBUEBUEBUE *dies*

this makes me so so happy since just like a month ago my love for pvz returned pretty hard like......... omg omg i'm so so happy to hear ppl liking my fellas. and!! might seem really unprofessional but i don't have a master post for them, i just share stuff about them as i please! but!! think i can spare sum info here!! + links to their designs!

Game Bug (genderqueer, he/they/xe) - Hero version of Arcade Zombie, mixed a bit with Computer Scientist! He's professional in kicking plants' butts and gaming. One of the smarter zombies here, his superpowers include technological advancements, force field creation, teleportation, creation of sizzles/electricity (but not the same as Boogaloo), xe can also corrupt codes and hack into anything! their civilian alter-ego/true ID is Harris Ricci, he's of italian descent and a dedicated librarian in his free time. He LOVES sci-fi/fantasy books, video games and quantum physics. He's your typical introverted nerd but when you give xem time, xe'll grow on you.

High Tide (trans man, he/him) - Hero version of Surfer Zombie! a very sporty zombie with a love for water sports, especially surfing and high diving, a true beach boy. fights in flip-flops because he doesn't tolerate any other shoes. his powers include hydrokinesis and a bit of control over the air (since it contains H20 but he can mostly bend the sea breeze). his hydro powers are special though, he can bend any liquid, change the state of it (into either solid, liquid or gas state) and some more tricks he knows. He works as a part-time firefighter and lifeguard, but there he's known as your sweet Oliver Chandler. He's a himbo and a ray of sunshine that's it. he's lucky though! Neptuna and him are dating!

Dazzling Starr (demigirl, she/her) - The star of the show! A well-known glam musician who also happens to be a zombie hero. She's a multi-instrumentalist and can even play on weirdest instruments out there, but she mainly uses her beloved guitar to deliver some killer solos. Her powers include manipulation and generation of sounds. pretty much vanquishes plants with guitar riffs. she can also hypnotize them! yes! hypnotizing music! She can pretty much bend mf physics and cause a mini earthquake when she stomps her foot. a buff girl do not mess with her or else she'll squeak you like a toy. her hero name was originally just her stage name, but now she's a beloved hero! her civilian ID is Deborah, or Debbie, she has some spanish roots. and! she's married to Electric Boogaloo (who's a #1 husband and can't stop talking about how much he loves his wife) and has a teenage daughter!

Millisecond (cis male, he/him) - Interstellar Bounty Hunter and an Assassin, works on the space zombie black market (yes i know how this sounds like) offering assassination services. He has amazing aim, but his superpower is super-speed! He can run around 10,000km in a minute (forgive my european ass i dunno how to use miles) and not be seen, as he really can run up fast. knows every corner of space, and is wanted in like 40 galaxies. Dr. Zomboss hired him to get rid of the plant heroes, but instead he got adopted by the zombie heroes that are now his found family. His name is in fact Alasdair Diamantis (but gets called Atlas), as he has greek roots. He and Rustbolt are dating! they're boyfriends and very in love.

Beatrice "Betty" (cis female, she/her) - Dazzling Starr and Electric Boogaloo's teenage, 16 year old daughter, embodiment of 2000s emo/scene mixed with rock 'n' roll and disco. yes. She's one hell of an edgy teenager, she's a part of the team as she works as some sort of sidekick/beloved niece of the zombie heroes. she has superpowers, it was passed to her genetically! she has electricity + sound manipulation mixed, but she doesn't want to be a hero in future, she wishes to be a drummer and she's actually amazing at playing on the drums! she has a part-time job though, thank to Rustbolt, she babysits the Imps at Z-Tech factory. Says she's only nice to them because they pay her for babysitting them, but she has a soft spot for those little buggers. also a hardcore mlp fan

i'm working on a lotta more, but i'm so so happy you think so about my fellas like that. that truly made me so happy <33

[docholligay]

Please rant/rave (well, we already know which one it will be here) about Harry Potter!

GEE I HOPE THIS WAS WORTH WAITING FOR

OH MY GOD. The level of hatred I have for Harry Fucking Goddamn Potter, the culture around Harry Fucking Potter, extending its poisonous tentacles even to the concept of young adult fiction, fantasy, and the United Kingdom as a country and people. 

When you being on this, you may think, “Oh, Doc will explain that Harry Potter sucks because JKR hates trans women” and I will say, oh no, dear reader, that is a fantastic reason to hate the author, and I really suggest we all continue to hate her, and perhaps not purchase the QUEEN’S TONNES of officially licensed merchandise and movies and theme parks that give her stupid little fucking hands all that cash, but no, that is not why I hate the work. There are a number of great works done by terrible people, and the further out the lens of history gets the truer this is. 

I hate Harry Potter because it fucking sucks, and mentally stifled an entire fucking generation. 

“Well, Doc, Harry Potter was really there for me when--” Oh my god I could not fucking care LESS about your personal emotion connection to “orphan wizard boy turns out to be a rich aristocrat yet somehow less woke than Cinderella though” I have personally emotional connections to hot fucking garbage pails of media properties, and if someone came barreling through talking about the myriad ways in which they were horrible, I would be like, “Oh, you aren’t fucking wrong, pal” 

Harry Potter gained wild ass popularity in part due to its magnificent sorting system of Smart, Brave, Evil, and Other, because there’s nothing liberals like more than being able to put everyone’s personality into an easily labeled box, which is why astrology is so popular, or for the intellectuals, Myers-Briggs, which is just as fake but with the veneer of science. This allowed people to give into the tribalism they so desperately liked to pretend they did not possess, and also allow them to write thinkpieces about “The misunderstood Hufflepuff” or “Slytherins aren’t all bad!” or really anything that allows them to write a very real piece about their very imagined oppression for being a part of a totally fake house in a children’s book. Excellent use of your sociology degree, Kai, I thought the addition of phrases like, ‘Content of socialization” and “axes of oppression” really spoke to the struggles you face when wearing a green and silver scarf. 

The other reason it became popular is that it’s essentially wallpaper paste formed into characters. I have read all of the books, and I could not tell you even remotely what Harry’s defining personality traits are other than “protagonist”. In American, at least, a large part of it was the fascination with all things British, with the idea of boarding school and prefects and uniforms that aren’t inexplicably chinos and polo shirts for nine year olds. It allowed children to project onto something so bland that it could be anything. And for children, THAT’S FINE. There is a great deal of bland media made for children, but what I’m speaking to is the fandom, which is largely well over the age of 18. 

Because if we look at the books, are they...actually good? Was it good, or did I experience it as a child? I mean, honestly, on a literary level, are they, or was it just like we all watched Friends, we did it because everyone else was doing it, because I have a distinct memory of a series that involves such greats as “magical geegaws with poorly defined rules that are quickly forgotten despite being able to solve later problems quickly” or “Everyone loves Harry or is a bad guy, or secretly loved Harry all along” 

Oh, speaking of, man, if this was an actual well-written book, wouldn’t it have been wild to have Snape’s whole thing be to teach us that sometimes people do good things for the wrong reasons? Instead of naming your fucking child after the guy who ‘protected you’ because he still wanted to bone your mom? “After all this time” “Always.” 

While all this could have been explained, we have Quidditch added into the mix instead because 20 pages of the goddamn Puppy Bowl is exactly what I was looking for while I was waiting for JK to move the goddamn ball on literally any of these actual magical concepts. 

Harry Potter is a fucking trust fund baby, star quarterback, who grows up to be a cop and marries his high school sweetheart. (Speaking of, why were we shocked that JKR turned out to be a piece of shit when this was and always has been the conclusion of Harry Potter? Why are liberals so fucking into this series that upholds structures like it ain’t no one’s business? It’s a series that opines that those beneath us “Muggles” should be kept in the dark from us) Literally, he finds out he is a wizard and has a dragon-guarded fucking VAULT OF CASH. At 11. It’s such a series for little tyrants, you are special from birth and need do nothing to prove it, here is a letter certifying as such. Oh, not only are you rich and the greatest seeker and have excellent quips, but also your parents were not only rebels, but the best of rebels, and so deeply involved that your parents were killed by the big bad personally, again, because you are so special. His mother’s love literally saves his ass over and over again, because he was SO SPECIAL. He fought Voldemort FROM THE BEGINNING, and WON.  It’s literally the most privilege baby fantasy in the world. 

“But Doooooooooooc, it’s for chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiildren” 

A) Yeah, and you’re 32, you’re making my fucking point about Harry Potter setting an entire generation up for intellectual failure to launch. 

B) Okay, and? I can think of a bunch of kids’ books off the top of my head that in no way require specialness to be given by birth so as to roll out the red carpet for master protagonist. The Hunger Games. Watership Down. A Series of Unfortunate Events. The Chronicles of FUCKING NARNIA, about which I have only a small handful of particularly kind things to say. I’ve never read Percy Jackson, but it’s my understanding that despite his being a literal demigod, the attitudes of the supporting cast are allowed to fall between the extremes of “Appreciates Percy” and “naughty or will learn” Harry does nothing to improve himself even after knowing that he is HUNTED BY THE BIG BAD! “I won’t do this because I don’t like Snape”. So There” which, again, if this series were written with the slightest bit of care or know-how, could be a humbling fucking plot point! BUT NO THAT WOULD BE NAUGHTY. 

But the real reason I hate Harry Potter so much has everything to do with the fandom surrounding it, and how it intellectually stunted a generation of adults. The promise of Harry Potter was that it was supposed to make a new generation of readers, and so the popularity of them was pushed, and so there was discussion of teaching them in schools, but I tell you fucking what, I know a whole lot more folks who grew up reading Harry Potter that never advanced beyond reading YA, or even just rereading the entire series every year and that’s pretty much them done and dusted. 

In the attempt to recapture whatever it was about Harry Potter that attracted children (A lot of it was your peers doing it. I read them all as they came out, and it was literally the equivalent of watching the game so you could talk at the water cooler. That was never going to be recaptured) people, who by this time were likely in their teens, kept getting recommended stuff at the same and same level. No one ever felt pushed to read things that are challenging, to read things that have some of the concepts or themes of Harry Potter but maybe complicate. I know FAR more adults who read adult books that aren’t into Harry Potter, even if they were as children, than the reverse. 

But Doc, why is reading only books meant for 14 year olds a problem??? I mean I suppose I can’t convince you that comfort is not the job of literature or of life, it is the job of an easy chair, because Americans especially are decadent as fuck about being comfy cozy all the time and if anything causes them distress or pain it should be immediately avoided. But Maybe I can convince you that you’re fucking up these books for actual ass children who deserve to have their own writing section without adults bringing their fucking asses into it. They deserve their own spaces. There’s a number of YA editors who have talked about the difficult space YA now occupies because since Potter’s blowup, it’s no longer a niche category, but basically “adult easy reads” and so they have been buying books that are more about the tastes of adult buyers than of literal 14 year olds. 

Is that not...sad? To anyone else? Honestly, and this is not part of the essay because it’s a broader reaching problem, but CHILDREN’S MEDIA IS NOT FOR US. CHILDREN’S MEDIA IS NOT FOR US. CHILDREN’S MEDIA IS FOR FUCKING CHILDREN. The fucking 40-23 set really needs to get their shit together and grow up a little bit and engage in some fucking adult media, and maybe, if we support what we’re actually looking for FOR ADULTS, it will come to us. No one is saying you can’t read Harry Potter or watch some Cartoon Network show, but like, search your heart and come the fuck on. Engage in something more complex. If not for yourselves, for the kids getting shoved into simplified adult stories. It should not be about us. 

ANYWAY, my larger point is that it was Harry Potter, a badly written series about a magical boy who was chosen and magic and also rich and also a favorite of the headmaster and also more clever than most adults and also spoke the same magical snake language as the big bad and was also star quarterback, but at least there was a system in which you could buy a scarf in block colors and feel like you belonged to a team. 

(But not a sports team! lol handegg! I’m cool I don’t get into sports! Except Quidditch.) 

[moorheadthanyoucanhandle]

PROJECT RUNWAY

Opening today:

Top Gun: Maverick--When the original Top Gun was released in 1986, I quickly came to regard it as an embodiment of everything that was wrong with American pop culture, and maybe of American culture in general. Setting aside whatever annoyance we can assign to it for turning Tom Cruise into a superstar, Top Gun's mindless, swaggering triumphalism and fetishizing of empty recklessness struck me as a symptom, maybe even a partial cause, of a generational toxicity from which we're still suffering.

Three and a half decades later, on the occasion of this very belated sequel, I'm not sure I see any rational basis for revising the opinion of my pompous 24-year-old self, or of attributing a healthier mentality to the new film. But I will say this: Top Gun: Maverick is much more enjoyable than the original.

The '86 film has become one of the seminal movie texts of our time, but in case there are a few fortunate souls who remain benighted: It's the story of Navy fighter pilot Pete "Maverick" Mitchell (Cruise) and his time at the Fighter Weapons School at Miramar near San Diego, known as TOPGUN. Maverick--all the pilots have cute nicknames--is a brilliant flyer but is given to ignoring authority and making his own rules.

In the new film, Maverick is still a Captain after all these years because he's just too darn rebellious to advance. He's still ruffling the feathers of authority figures (huffily played by the likes of Ed Harris and Jon Hamm). He gets called back to the TOPGUN school at the insistence of its commander, his old rival Ice (Val Kilmer, who has one touching scene).

Maverick's job this time is to instruct a batch of young officers with cute nicknames--except for one simply called Bob (the endearing Lewis Pullman)--in preparation for a secret bombing run against a uranium-enrichment facility in a judiciously unidentified hostile country. Among his pupils is Rooster (Miles Teller), son of Maverick's beloved co-pilot Goose (Anthony Edwards), killed during the first film. Rooster bears Maverick a longstanding grudge. There's a bit of love interest, too; Maverick re-meets barkeep Penny (Jennifer Connelly); his previous leading lady Kelly McGillis, though briefly glimpsed in a flashback, goes unmentioned.

Now, let me be clear: Top Gun: Maverick is every bit as insipid and predictable as Top Gun the first, and Tom Cruise seems like just as much of pipsqueak. Cruise can be good, even very good, when he's playing manic and out-of-his-depth, as in Rain Man, A Few Good Men, Jerry Maguire and Magnolia, but when he's in hypercompetent man-of-action mode I've never been able to take him seriously. Even at nearly 60, he still comes across like a boy dressed up in his dad's clothes.

But that doesn't much matter here. Two factors combined to pull the stick out of my butt and allow me to enjoy this movie. One is that technical filmmaking has advanced exponentially since 1986, and the flight scenes have greater clarity and flamboyance than the original's. It's useless to try to claim that the last 30 or 40 minutes of this movie isn't exciting. It's propulsive and spellbinding, even as you see every plot point coming at you as plainly as if it was on a radar screen.

The other factor, especially for those of us who were regular moviegoers when the original came out, is simple nostalgia. The director, Joseph Kosinski, really captures the '80s-movie montage-to-montage vibe, starting right at the beginning with brooding synthesizer tones leading into the most irksome (albeit catchy) song of the estimable Kenny Loggins, “Danger Zone,” all of it backing up a full opening credit sequence, not just a quick flash of the title. In this way, Top Gun: Maverick can be like that odd and common phenomenon of encountering somebody you disliked back in the day, and feeling an unaccountable surge of affection.

The Bob's Burgers Movie--Bravely facing off against Tom Cruise's fighter squadron this weekend is the story of a family struggling to keep their burger joint going when a huge sinkhole opens in the sidewalk and completely blocks access to their storefront. It's the feature version of an animated Fox TV series.

Bob is Bob Belcher (voiced by H. Jon Benjamin), the depressive dad; his wife Linda (John Roberts) is more upbeat. They live in the apartment above the restaurant with their kids, boy-crazy oldest daughter Tina (Dan Mintz); nebbishy, well-intentioned rock star wannabe middle son Gene (Eugene Mirman) and rabbit-ear-wearing, aspirational youngest Louise (Kristen Schaal). Louise is deeply offended when a girl at school calls her a "baby"; to prove this untrue she descends into the sinkhole.

This leads to a mystery involving everyone from the burger joint's rich landlords to carnies from the nearby amusement park. Other characters enter the story, some performed by name actors: Kevin Kline and Zach Galifianakis as the landlords; Gary Cole as a police detective with an inferiority complex. There are some very peculiar musical numbers, and it all culminates in a suspenseful and action-packed finale.

This movie is funny even if you've never seen the show. I can attest to this, because I've never seen the show, and I thought this movie was funny. The comedy derives from the Belcher family's flat, affectless manner, contrasted with the convoluted gothic plot and wild action. But there's also a humane warmth to the Belchers that keeps the joke from going sour. If I lived in that town, I'd eat at that place.

[yelenasdog]

wondrous mess (40s!bucky x fem reader)

𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: angst with some tooth rotting fluff halfway 

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: war is so cruel, it’s only fair that the both of them have to expirience it’s wrath together.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 11k+ (my longest fic!!)

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: the beginning shows implications of alcoholic tendencies and behavior as well as derogatory terms from the 40s to describe those who are suffering from alcoholism, war, character death, denial of death, being a widow, cheating, crying, implications of sex, that’s abt it. if i missed any, feel free to shoot me an ask or message :) 

𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: (listen to these in order for best reading experience)

☆time flies- mac miller

☆at last- etta james

☆crying time- dean martin

☆paper rings- taylor swift

☆fine line- harry styles

☆dream a little dream of me- ella fitzgerald and louis armstrong 

☆twilight time- the platters

☆you don’t have to say you love me- jerry vale

☆moon river- andy williams

☆as the world caves in- matt maltese

☆we’ll meet again- vera lynn

☆everlong (acoustic version)- foo fighters

𝚊/𝚗: i hope u enjoy this!! i’ve worked so hard on this and done so much research, it truly took the most time and effort i’ve ever used in a fic. there’s more disclaimers at the end :)

·。·☆·。·。

December 28th, 1941

The alleyway was dark, unnerving, and cold. A man’s loud and gruff voice projected through the nearly empty alley, bouncing off of the newly propaganda strewn walls. His arm was left hanging defenseless in the air.

“Don’t go, please, we’ll talk it out.” His 5 o’clock shadow seemed more prominent, his clothes wrinkled and smelling of alcohol while his breath was that of smoke.

He had changed since they had gotten together, but he wasn’t the only one.

She turned on her heels from where she stood just outside the backstreet, tears pricking the corner of her eyes, threatening to spill. 

She had aged in the time she had been with Jake, the lines on her face deepening, the bags under her eyes darkening with blue and purple hues. Her painted lips had become cemented in a scowl, her formerly bright smile rarely seeing the light of day. But the distraught girl had no intentions of letting her new Bésame mascara go to waste on some jerk, much like the past few years of her life had. She strutted towards the blonde, regaining her lost composure.

She jabbed a manicured finger onto his chest, causing the man to recede slowly, the girl he had angered not far behind.

“You listen here, you crumb. I will not sit around all slack happy so you can go around and kiss some other dame behind my back.” She removed her hand, crossing it tightly against her chest with her other arm.

“Well, I was buzzed, that bird wasn’t even any importanc-“

“You’re unbelievable!” She gasped, rolling her eyes. She turned away once again. Jake followed in suit.

“Leave me alone, Jake.” She kept her eyes straight ahead on the unfamiliar Brooklyn sidewalk. She had originally come to the area to surprise her now ex- boyfriend after his work in the factory, but was in for a shock when she saw him making out with some girl (not for the first time) just outside the diner on the way.

So even if she didn’t have a clue where she was going, she sure as hell was going to act like she did. Seeing that her stride wasn’t faltering, he made an outcry of her name followed by a bellowed  “No!”

Jake grabbed her shoulder, and she shrugged it off, continuing to walk down the cobblestone street. There were cars buzzing past, and people talking around her on the street.

Couples. Happy couples who she quite honestly envied.

“You’re not allowed to touch me like that anymore.” Jake scoffed at her seemingly venomous words, wrapping a strong hand around her dainty wrist.

“Now don’t go into a decline, it’s not that big of a deal.” Her eyes narrowed at the sandy blond.

“Oh, please. You kissed her, and all the others, because you wanted to and because you could. No regard for anyone’s feelings but your own, just like always. And I’m sick of it, I really am!” She threw her hands up, and they fell back to her side with an audible plop against the gabardine fabric.

Jake looked around nervously at all the people whose attention he had drawn, his eyes darting to and fro.

“Don’t make a scene,” he called her by her nickname in a vain attempt to draw out her sympathy. “Please, we can work it out like we always do.”

“Don’t you dare call me that. You have no place to do so. And I think I’ve made my point fairly evidently. Jake Nelson, you are nothing but a swigger and a cheat, and I want nothing to do with it any longer. Goodbye.” She felt a rush of adrenaline as she picked her head up, the setting sun in what to her seemed a poetic manor.

She didn’t know where she was, how she would get home, where she would sleep. But he was gone. That parasite that had been feeding off of her and her emotions, taking advantage of her again and again, was finally gone. And it felt great. She took a breath of the heavily polluted air, noting how it somehow seemed clearer.

She could breathe again, and the feeling was intoxicating. In her newfound bliss, she continued walking for she didn’t know (nor care to find out) how long.

The sky that had since changed from it’s scarlets and oranges to an indigo sheet (becoming nearly impossible to see the stars with all the heavy smoke wafting in the air from the ever so busy factories) provided a hint at exactly how long it had been since she began her adventure. 

She would stare at the buildings as she walked past, analyzing those who walked in and out of them, considering the way they walked, how some appeared dreary, others animated, and making up backstories for them each in her mind. Some of her stories were sadder than others, and some had the most glorious of tales. She liked to think that she was correct about her human hypotheses, even if she was the furthest thing from it.

She swung her head to the left side of the street she was walking on, and not far ahead, she noticed a rickety looking old bar. After her day's events, she felt she deserved a celebratory drink, so she pushed the heavy door open, stepping into the dimly lit area.

The airy sound of piano filled the air, a joyful demeanor to the place. Couples (which she still envied, even if momentarily the said envy had gone vacant) were dancing about happily. Not a care in the world. Not in the moment, at least.

But when she made it past the entrance, that moment stopped. It was like every head turned, all conversations paused, the clinking of the piano keys was no longer to be heard. She gave a small nervous smile to the occupants of the room as she walked to the bar itself, standing just a tad bit taller at the attention. 

And as soon as the moment had stopped, it seemed to have started back up again when she ended up at her destination. Because as she had learned, time truly never stopped for anyone. 

The piano’s melody resumed, everyone was back on their feet in no time. She took a look around, soaking up the atmosphere in complete awe, feeling free as a bird of some sort.

Soon enough, she was slowly sipping away at her concoction while facing the splintering door, her head occupied with thoughts concerning what came next, how she would handle the effects of this adrenaline high she was now stepping off. Her thinking was interrupted, though, by a deep voice and a tap on the shoulder, making her jump in her seat.

“‘Scuse me?”

She turned on her stool to face whoever it was that wanted her attention. Both figures eyes widened at the sight of the other, shock spreading across their faces.

“Well if it isn’t James Barnes!” She spoke, genuine excitement filling her soul. He called out her old nickname, contended with his discovery.

“It’s been awhile! And please, doll, it’s Bucky.” He reminded her with a charming smile. A warm blush rose up from her neck to her cheeks, and butterflies suddenly hatched in her stomach, fluttering about like nobody's business. She nodded, taking another sip from her drink to avoid meeting his eyes (which were much prettier than she ever had remembered from school). 

The clean shaven boy- or man as of late, pulled out a chair next to her, sitting down. The two engaged in friendly conversation, their laughs mixing in the warm, thick air with the sounds of the music. Her heart was beating out of her chest, leaving her feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush all over again.

After some time of very pleasant conversation, a less effervescent matter had risen.

“So,” James began, taking a swig from his glass. “Still with that souse, what was his name,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Jake! That’s his name, Jake!” 

The girl shook her head and rolled her eyes with a laugh.

He was enchanted already.

She began to tell a toned down version of the occurrences with Jake, Bucky remaining captivated by her presence the entire time. James would speak up every few statements, always resulting in her losing her place, not that she minded.

Towards the end of the so called story, there was an interruption towards the front of the bar. 

The moment stopped once more, but in a quite different manner than how it did when she had first entered.

He hollered out her name, followed by an equally as loud “Where are you?” He turned to a man to his left. “Where is she?” He slurred. The scruffy man only shrugged, scooting away from the drunken one that had walked into the brick building.

“Jake, what are you doing here?” She questioned, slowly walking towards the man, trying not to upset him further. 

“Why’d you leave me, huh?! Why’d you cause a scene and go?” He was hysterical. Tears ran down his red face and his hands feverishly grabbed at his scraggly locks for some sense of comfort. 

“Jake, you’re not in your right mind. Leave me alone and go home, you’re leaving your mother worrying, I’m sure of it.”

Her voice began to shake, ripples of emotion that had been repressed for the past years bubbling up to the surface, taunting her, threatening her, to erupt.

And God, his mother, his poor mother.

The frail old woman was half the reason she had even stayed with Jake in the first place,

Her heart was weak, and her son’s behavior never left her any room to breath. So the girl would dedicate much of her time to cooking meals for the widowed Ms. Nelson, bringing them over and sitting with her for hours on end, speaking with her of Jake’s childhood, memories of her late husband spending time with the boy along with it.

Her favorite stories throughout them all, though, were the ones of Jake’s childhood pup, a golden retriever called Benjamin.

Ms. Nelson loved to tell the story of how odd it was that the young boy chose the human name, rather than something frivolous and fun, like Buddy, or Peanut.

So a teary eyed version of the girl would think back to that story whenever Jake would behave in this manner, she would think of Benjamin and a youthful Jake, frolicking in the Oklahoma fields where Jake had grown up.

An extremely happy child, an even sweeter boy.

But no longer could she do so. Not now, after Jake had gone and betrayed her for some random girl.

Some random girl who would never sit with his mother for hours, listening to her weep about her broken son who she pretended to not notice was silently suffering. Some random girl who wouldn’t comfort him when he had a rough day at work, trying to be an active distraction so that he wouldn’t turn to his vice.

Because she had loved Jake Nelson, even if she wanted to pretend she didn’t.

And it hurt her to walk away, but she had to, for his own good.

Which led her to push the image of a golden fluff ball and the face of a smiling small boy out of her mind completely, weighing herself down to the present, meeting Jake’s sad emerald eyes. She walked forward, taking him by the shoulders. Her voice was hushed as she spoke.

“Jake. You’ve become someone I don’t know, someone that’s hard to love. But I did it anyway for a long, long time. Maybe some other time, perhaps even in another life, we can be together. But that all depends on you.

You’ve hurt me, and I can’t pretend you haven’t any longer, Jake. So go home. Please.”

Her eyes hunted through his, sifting for some sign of reassurance that he understood the gravity of the situation.

“But I love you-” He whispered, acting a stuttering mess. Everyone at the bar had gone back to whatever they were doing before he came into the room, not wanting to involve themselves in whatever mess it was obvious the two of them were in.

She took hold of the brown fabric of his coat, gently turning him towards the door. She walked behind him, her hand not leaving his back for some subconscious fear he would do something he would regret once he was of sober mentality.

She discarded it as nonsense;

But nevertheless, her death grip on him never faltered, even for a moment.

As soon as she made it outside, she waved over a cab, the bright yellow vehicle being the only completely visible object in the cool night.

It pulled over with a loud screech, leaving rubber tracks on the damp asphalt. She wrinkled her nose, before digging around her embroidered bag in a flurry, pulling together $5.27 exactly. She knew it would be enough to cover the long ride from the factory to his home, as the high cost of the ride was one of his many worries he did his best to forget in any way he could possibly fathom.

So she told the cabbie his address, helping Jake into the back of the car. He held her hand and looked up to her with pleading eyes. She squeezed it once before putting his back on his lap.

“Goodnight, Jake.” She smiled softly, briefly touching his cheek before shutting the door. She saw him look out the dirty window, before leaning back into the leather headrest and letting his tired eyes flutter to a close, finding momentary bliss, despite all going on around him.

She took a deep breath, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her shoulders, watching him until the taxi was just barely visible, to where calling it a yellow blob would be generous. But she followed it with her eyes not a moment later, for she had some explicable fear from a tall-tale her mother had told her long ago, about how you would never see someone again if you watched them off completely.

Whether that be by death or some curious mishap along the journey towards it, she never quite felt the urge to find out. And one could take that as a bitter yet nectarous testament to her feelings towards Jake, but even if she wanted to, she wasn’t even sure if she could herself.

She revolved in zombie like fashion, too caught up in her own world once more, to notice a certain brown haired (soon to be, not that he knew it) sergeant.

A stormy look of displeasure had casted itself across his stark features, but his cerulean eyes remained cordial, almost like a safe haven of calm waters to find refuge in.

And almost like in every cliche love story that ever was, she bumped into Bucky, gasping before transitioning into an expression of her regret, a waterfall of apologies gushing from her lips.

He called her by her nickname once more, catching her attention and making her heart skip a beat.

“Seriously, it’s alright, no harm done.”

She zipped her mouth shut, so to say, and just gave a curt nod before starting to go inside. And ever the gentleman, Bucky let her get halfway to the door before calling out her name. She turned once more, salty droplets beginning to roll down her face. 

“Yes?”

He looked down to his feet and then to the bustling city street beside him. After much contemplation in the span of what felt like hours (but was only a few moments), he met her eye.

“I know it’s not my place, and if you don’t wanna talk ‘bout it, we don’t have to, but what happened in there-”

He paused, taking a deep breath in a futile effort to put his nerves at bay, keep the storm from shore to the best of his abilities. He puffed his cheeks, offering his arm before retreating it again, similarly to the way Jake had however many hours ago.

“You don’t deserve that.” He shook his head, left to right, his ungelled hair shiny under the yellow street lights, making him look like an angel.

“I know.”

He shuffled closer to her, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The wind howled around them in an agonizing manner, how lone wolves under a full moon would do the same.

They watched as their frosty breaths floated like smoke in the air, their faces illuminated by the storefront displays lining the streets from Christmas that was only a few days prior, leaving no time to take down the brightly colored decor. You could practically hear the animated Santa Claus’ “Ho ho ho!” from where he sat in the front of a toy store, beckoning those who walked past to come on inside and take a look, maybe spend a few dollars.

But to Y/n, it felt as if the cheery old man was simply mocking her as she was in her current state.

“Really, I mean that, I do.”

Now to reiterate, Bucky was a gentleman, that much was clear. So although he outright wanted to tell her that it seemed as if she didn’t realize her own worth and that, Hell, Steve could treat her better than that punk. But alas, he kept it to himself, only doing his best to comfort her, upsetting her further, never an intention in his mind.

She nodded, giving a tight lipped smile. “Thanks, really.”

She shivered, admiring the red and green lights around her, her glazed over eyes reflecting the image of them beautifully, almost like a work of stained glass art in her iris.

“You wanna head back inside? You look kinda chilly.”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m just going to stay out here for awhile.”

“I’ll leave you to it.”

All that was heard then, was the clicking of his shoes against the cobblestone, with the occasional car whizzing past. But then, she asked him to stay.

Her voice was soft, so much so, in fact, that she possessed what Bucky would say was mistakable for the voice of a mouse, which he would know after spending as many years around Steve that he had. He almost had missed it, but by some miracle, maybe a lucky star, he didn’t

So he turned around, not saying anything to disturb her seemingly exteriorly serene state, only walking up behind her, pulling off his jacket and placing it on top of her shoulders. He smoothed it out briefly, his touch feather light. For he wasn’t sure if he was breaching a certain level of intimacy, breaking any boundaries, with a woman who was practically a stranger.

“Is this alright?”

She nodded again.

“This is fine.” She closed her eyes, feeling much warmer now, but she was slightly torn on if the newfound comfort was accredited to the jacket resting upon her shoulders, or the company standing patiently beside her.

She was starting to think it might just be a little bit of both.

-

June 14th, 1943

The two's relationship (if you could call it that) was painstakingly slow, not that Bucky ever minded.

Word of the war and when, not who, would get drafted had spread, and any waking second for the past years, she was terrified the man she was developing ever strong feelings for would be ripped away with only a moments notice.

But regardless of that, she had a hard time trusting him, that much was true. It wasn’t his fault, not in the slightest. She wished more than anything to forget her past with Jake, but it was no use. So it took her much time to be able to trust James. But he was patient, and he always stayed.

So when he did get called away, it was a rude awakening.

She had only recently met Steve, before Bucky (who she still called James) was sent overseas. Her maternal instinct she didn’t even know she had immediately kicked into overdrive at first sight of the sickly boy, making her promise Buck that she would watch over him, much to Steve’s dismay. Although, there was no doubt in any of their minds she would in the first place, it was a given.

(Steve secretly loved the way she fussed over him, but he would never admit to that.)

The three of them had a lovely time at the Stark Expo the night before Bucky left, leaving a happy new memory for Y/n to drift to whenever she missed the scent of sandalwood, sweat, and his cologne, that was all uniquely him.

She would picture entangling her arms with Steve and Bucky’s own as she skipped happily, pulling the boys along behind her; not too rough of course, for Steve’s sake

She had been full of an electric happiness that night, stealing kisses with James when Steve wasn’t looking, a pink tint falling upon his plump cheeks. She stole his hat right off his head of hair that she loved to run her fingers through so much and put it on, crooked so much so it nearly fell right off. She wore it the whole rest of the night, Bucky wanting to never see her take it off, if it were possible.

Later that night when he took her home, she stood by the doorway, the porch light doing a sad job of lighting up the area, casting a faint amber glow across James’ features.  

The hairs left astray from where she had Bucky’s hunter green cap previously were lit up, forming a halo. 

She was a wondrous mess, and James simply adored her in that moment.

(He also adored her in any other instance since the minute he had laid his eyes on her, but the point still stands.)

You could smell the grass if you had tried, freshly cut and still damp from the late night shower they had run through while making their way home, turning through twisty alleyways, feet pattering against walkways.

Their hands had been slipping apart the entire time, perhaps an attempt by Freyr for a cruel joke in the last hours the lovers would spend together before James was to leave.

Maybe he was up in the sky at Mount Olympus, laughing down at the two mortals as the girl kept her hand gripped securely around the man’s stronger limb, refusing under any circumstances to let go. Maybe his laugh turned to a fond smile from above, finding pleasure in how his jest resulted in such an act of youthful care, not minding in the slightest that it had been counterproductive in the best ways.

“Thank you, James. I had an amazing night.”

He grinned ear to ear, awkwardly shuffling closer to her silhouette.

“Same here, doll.”

And just like that, she had crumbled like a coffee cake, another warm and itchy wave silking up her neck. Past the neckline of the uncomfortable dress she wore because she knew Bucky loved it (even though he would no longer love it and would insist she never wear it again if his ears heard any words of upset at the garment fall past her lips).

It traveled right past her best pearls with the rhinestone right in the center that she had made sure to wear because James had once told her that they made her eyes sparkle, that sly son of a gun.

The twinkle truly had been there solely because of him on that day and most others, but she would allow him to believe what he wanted to believe until the end of time, if it kept that boyish smile cemented on his pretty face.

But as it eventually always would, his smile began to falter, shifting into a slight pout, then into a full on frown as soon as her eyes had become visibly misty.

Bucky reached a hand forward snatching the cap from her head. She huffed, and he rolled his eyes as he placed it back on his head. 

“I’ll be needing this tomorrow, sorry, sweetheart.”

They both laughed for a moment, the memories of the night still fresh in their young minds.

“I’m going to miss you, James.”

Her chin suddenly quivered, her nose ran, and her thoughts were racing at the speed of light.

She couldn’t lose him. No, not yet, she wasn’t ready, she wouldn’t ever be ready. She hadn't even begun to express to him how much she loved him, let alone that she couldn’t bear to live a day without him (as the information was quite new to her as well). So how in God’s name was she supposed to ship him off to war, just like that, practically a sitting duck for those bastard nazis to poke and prod at all they want?

“I’ll miss you more, darlin’. More than you know.”

They both made an attempt at watery smiles that ended up looking more like two painful grimaces, which was more of a reflection of their current moods than the aforementioned. His eyes pleaded with her to say something, anything. One of her quick witted facts, maybe a scolding perhaps, for having such a negative attitude in the current predicament.

Not able to stare at his collapsing facade any longer, she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. She quickly reciprocated, placing a strong hand on her waist.

There was a longing look in her eyes as the gears of her brain turned, carefully formulating what she wanted to say.

“Marry me.”

Well, formulating is a strong word.

He laughed at the notion, the sound ringing out and echoing off the small porch. But the whimsical tune soon halted when he realized he was the only one making it.

“Doll, are you serious?”

“Never been more serious about anything in my life, James.” She moved her hands to take his, holding them up to her chest and shaking them as she spoke with a supplicate glance. He said her nickname in a careful manner, trying to articulate a response, muttering something about not having a ring, how their families (Becca included) would be furious they missed the wedding. But she was having none of it.

“Well I’m sure given the circumstances, they’d understand, and if they don’t then oh well. And quite frankly, as for the ring, I could care less, James, make a ring out of paper and slap it on my finger, it's all the same to me. We can go to the court tomorrow morning before I see you off-”

She moved her head down to where Bucky was gazing, tilting it back up with her pointer finger.

“Let me marry you, dammit.”

They laughed for a second, both of them this time, although her’s was much more convincing.

“But why now?”

She paused again, the only sound to be heard was the soft chirping of the crickets hidden in the grass.

“Because I know you're far too much of a gentleman to leave me widowed, James Barnes.”

He pressed soft kisses on her knuckles, meeting her eyes.

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Oh, only every day.”

He rolled his eyes and smiled, pulling her in by the waist. He connected their lips, and felt her smile into the kiss. He also happened to feel a hand creeping up to where his hat rested on the crown of his head, but the feeling wasn’t prolonged.

She snatched it off his shiny locks with a devilish grin, a sparkle in her eye shining like the North star Bucky soon would be gazing upon at night to direct him through the dark nights.

“You should keep that on for forever, you know. Looks better on you, anyway.”

She raised a messy eyebrow, the corner of her bright red mouth turning into a smirk.

“Oh really, is that so?”

Bucky hummed and nodded, kissing her nose and watching in delight as it crinkled up and a high pitched giggle escaped from her lips. Then it was quiet for some time, the only thing able to be heard was the droplets of rainwater sliding off the roof and plopping on the floor as her and James stood in contemplation.

“I’ll marry you, doll.”

She smiled at him warmly, leaning into his larger frame completely, the scratchy green fabric of his uniform flush against her cheek.

“I know.”

He barked a loud laugh, and she felt it through the fabric covering his chest, savouring the feeling.

“You know? Well how did you know?”

She only sighed, moving to open her rickety front door, which the whole neighborhood probably knew judging by the squeak that echoed from it.

“Because, just as I said before. You’re a gentleman. You’d never turn down a proposal in public, especially not from me.”

Bucky’s face contorted, and the gears of his head turned as he made an honest effort at understanding how they were in public.

“But, we’re not?”

She shook her head, stepping into her home and then turning to face him straight on.

“Technically, we were on the patio, which is in the yard, which is in the neighborhood, which is in public. Now, if I were to propose to you right now with you-”

She tugged his arm, forcing him into the building. 

“-also in my home, you would have every right to say no.”

She looked up, scanning his features. Admiring his cheekbones, his lips, and his sharp jaw. But most prevalently, she found herself absolutely enchanted by his eyes, as she always was.

“But I won’t.”

“But you won’t.”

She smiled, the look on her face resembling that of a fox smirking at her prey. She waltzed to the door, closing it softly.

“So,” she began, taking hold of Bucky’s hands.

“Tomorrow morning it is, then?”

“I think it is.”

“Whatever shall we do in the meantime?” She questioned, both of them having ideas that were entirely the same.

“I think I might have an inkling of an idea.”

She huffed, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“You and your ideas, James. Always ‘thinking’ of something new.”

He only hummed in agreement, nuzzling his forehead against hers, before moving down to her ear.

“I’d like to believe I act on those ideas. Would you agree?”

You can most likely guess her answer.

-

The next morning was a mixture of great sorrow and great joy all at once. Sure, they had to get up at the crack of dawn on what would be Bucky’s last chance to sleep in for a very long time, and sure, the minister had given them very strange looks, but it had been done.

And to the newly wed Mr and Mrs. Barnes, it was worth it completely.

But nearly as soon as the exciting event had ended, she was standing on the slimy pebbles of Brooklyn's Pier 57, doing her best to not lose her footing on the wet stones. She had given James one final goodbye kiss, before watching him board the Dominion Monarch to be shipped off to England.

The large vessel departed, and for once, she allowed a few tears to slip down her blushed cheeks, her smeared mascara coming with it, just as she knew it would. The bitter droplets were warm, a juxtaposition to the feeling in the pit of her stomach formed by the voice nagging at her that Bucky would never see her again. That her wedding day would be the last time she would ever see her husband. It was a possible reality she never wanted to have to face.

And after so long, she decided she was tired of waiting. So she made a call.

“Hello? Is this Agent Margaret Carter?”

-

December 25th, 1943

Bucky Barnes was not opposed to the idea of Y/n joining the army. He was appalled.

So when on the crisp morning of December 25th, it was quite a surprise when he opened what he had presumed to be a letter wishing him a Merry Christmas from his wife, and rather receiving some interesting news.

He had been laying his backside against a tree, the scratchy bark feeling rather uncomfortable. He smiled, smiled at the news of his wife going to war, not that he knew, when Steve handed him the parchment, taking another sip of some watered down joe from an aluminum cup, before excitedly ripping into it like a little boy.

“I wanted to save it for today,” Steve had told him, his chest puffed out in pride for keeping the secret for so long.

Bucky initially had found it humorous and exciting, why wouldn’t he have? But his mood soon changed after reading just a few lines in.

“James, my love,

I hope this message finds you and the rest of the boys in good health, tell them I wish them all a happy Christmas, as well. There really isn’t a simple way to put this, and I hope it doesn’t put a damper on your holiday spirit, but I’ve been tired of sitting around, so I’ve spoken to Steve’s friend, Agent Carter. I now have enlisted in the SSR as Agent Barnes.”

The paper clenched in his fist, his eyes screwing shut. He didn’t even bother reading the rest before standing up and walking over to Steve, a fiery look set in his eyes. Steve soon caught on to his anger, standing up and parting his lips as he neared.

“Steve, did you know?”

Steve, a horrible liar, shrugged, furrowing his brows. “About what? Buck, what's wrong?”

“Don’t lie to me, Rogers! Did you know about her enlisting?”

At that, it went silent in the forest aside from the rustling of the branches, and the chirps of early rising blackbirds. 

The rest of the Commandos turned, eyes wide, shoulders hunched. Steve gestured for them to calm down and return to normal with a dramatic sweep of his arms, with most of them complying, but not without a few snarky comments from Dum Dum and Gabe protesting the treatment.

“Listen, I tried to stop her-”

“Well apparently, you did a horrible job. God, Agent Barnes. That’s what she'll be known as now. We'll have the whole bunch! Sarge and Agent, wow, we are gonna be one decorated family, ain’t that right, Steve?”

Bucky was ranting and rambling now, spewing angry nonsense at Steve as if that would change a thing. Steve felt a pang of guilt, hanging his head and biting his knuckle.

“Buck, is it a problem that she’ll be an Agent?”

Bucky paused, his nostrils flaring and his eyes slanting.

“Of course it’s a problem, Steve! If they put her in the field, God knows what’ll happen! What if I have to see that name on a plaque some day, huh? In a museum, in some memorial for fallen agents.” His arm put emphasis on every word he shouted, and his voice had grown raspy, tears slipped from the corners of his eyes.

Steve sat his exasperated friend down, putting a comforting arm on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him. It distressed Steve to see Bucky this upset, after all he had done for him over the years. So if he could try to make him feel even the slightest bit relieved, he would in any way he had to.

“Bucky?”

He looked up, his eyes red and nose puffy.

“Think about how you're feeling right now. The fear, the hurt, the anxiety, all of it.”

“Steve, I don’t get how this is going to help me-”

“Just trust me.”

Bucky nodded, slumping over again.

“That’s how she feels. That’s how she felt when the war was announced, how she felt when you submitted your draft, how she felt when you were called away, Hell, how she feels every second of every hour that you’re not with her.”

“Still not helping.”

“Shut up, jerk.” They laughed, Steve elbowing him in his shoulder. The sound echoed through the lush green of the space, the tension noticeably thinner.

“The point is, the pain that this all has caused for everyone is inevitable, inescapable. So learn from it, and savour it. In the long run, we’ll be okay, Buck. I promise you that.”

James bit his bottom lip, puncturing the chapped skin, the blood pounding in his head making it hard to process what Steve had said. But what he did manage to gather, was that they would be okay.

-

February 11th, 1944

“Peggy, I’m nervous.”

“What? Are you kidding? You must be kidding, you’re ridiculous.”

Peggy gave the girl a dirty look from where she stood behind her in front of the only full length mirror at the base, looking as she straightened out her skirt and touched up her “victory” colored lip.

“I’m not kidding, Peg. What if he’s mad?”

The other agent only laughed, briefly touching her on the shoulder before walking around her to where a map of the Hydra bases they had been tracking were laid out. Peggy fiddled with one of the flags for a moment, speaking to a soldier nearby. She impatiently tapped her crimson nails on the board, the sound driving her friend insane. Peggy then began to speak, not even looking up from where she stood, bent over as she examined something else.

“Darling, the only thing Barnes will be mad about by now, is not seeing you for so long. If he was angry before, he’s long forgotten about it, I assure you that.”

She nodded (even though nobody except a nosy recruit had witnessed it).

“You know what, I think you’re right. Thanks, Peg.”

Margaret half smiled, “mmhm” ing, but keeping her head down. She did, however, lift it up when she heard the other woman’s heels clicking in the opposite direction.

“Excuse me?” Peggy remarked, brows raised and her arms crossed.

Agent Barnes turned, her painted lips beckoning Peggy to go on in a most humorous manner.

“We aren’t done here! Get over here and help me mark this up, I’m nearly finished.”

She rolled her eyes, to which Peggy only rushed her more.

By the time they were done (spoiler, she was not almost finished) several hours had passed, and the camp was now lit only by the lanterns and the moon in the obsidian sky.

The stars were visibly bright that night, twinkling like small diamonds without the restriction of smoke from busy factories and the blockage of the ever so fascinating skyscrapers.

Mr and Mrs. Barnes both were watching the stars that night, smiling at the thought of the other doing the same.

Yes, even Bucky, smiling at the thought of his wife despite his neck developing a crick from having laid on the knapsack in the back of the truck for so long. A lovestruck glance was still plastered on his face as he stared up, the road bumpy underneath the wheels of the vehicle. His body would jolt as a cause from this every once in a while, but he paid it no mind, the soft smile staying put.

Steve watched Bucky’s facial expressions, a grin coming across his own features.

“You thinkin’ about her?”

Steve looked up to the sky.

“Always am.”

-

“I know you want to wait up for him, but I promise as soon as I get word of if he’s here, I’ll wake you. You need rest.”

The agent only smiled, her eyes staying trained on the stars above. “I’ll come to bed soon, Peg. I swear.”

But Margaret knew her friend all too well, so she simply bid her goodnight and shook her head.

She whispered, though her friend was too far away to hear her, laying on her backside and tucking her arms behind her head on the damp grass.

“Goodnight, Peggy.”

She had fallen asleep on the green that night, the stars wooing her into a slumber with thoughts of her beloved. She was only awoken when she felt the ground rumble beneath her, and heard the loud whirring of a hummer engine. She sat up, pressing her hands in the wet soil. She squinted and was barely able to make out two tall men jumping out from the back of the car. 

She was initially unsure of who it was, but a shield being reflected on by the pale moonlight, and a hearty laugh soon confirmed her suspicions. She gasped and only to herself muttered Bucky’s name, picking herself up off the ground, running as fast as her feet could take her. 

“James! James!”

He turned his head from where he was talking to Colonel Phillips, immediately recognizing the voice as his wife’s. By the time he had noticed, she was already to him, so all he could do was welcome her with open arms. Literally.

She jumped into his arms, planting kisses all over his face. He laughed and laughed, Steve, and the Colonel, too, cracking a smile at the two’s reunion. She pulled away momentarily, looking over his dirty face. She ran her fingertips over the scratches and gashes, still having a hard time believing that after all this time, even under all the grime and blood and sweat, it was truly him. 

“Sarge, it’s been awhile.” She giggled out, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Same to you, Mrs. Barnes. Too long.” He commented, leaning forward and burying himself in her neck, allowing her to cradle him. He inhaled her perfume, taking the scent to memory for when he would inevitably have to go away once again, leaving her behind.

(So he thought.)

“That would be Agent Barnes to you.”

Bucky saluted, nodding and throwing a wink in her direction, before leaning in and planting a firm kiss to her lips that now only had remnants of red left around the edges from when she had applied it earlier on in the day. Their voices were now reduced to raspy whispers, both of them completely out of breath.

“Well either way, I’ve missed you greatly, Agent Barnes.”

“I’m glad we feel the same way.”

The two of them also felt extremely tired, leaving them to fall asleep that night packed side by side on a small cot in the corner of Steve’s tent. The brown sheets were horribly scratchy, and they had to mainly rely on each others bodies for heat. But despite this, all felt well, as if this new normal was finally worth it. 

-

In the morning, Steve had wanted to let the pair sleep in as long as humanly possible. The sun rising was one thing the great Captain America couldn't prevent, though. So as yellow light began to stream through the barely there material of their temporary home, the Barnes’ were given a somewhat pleasant awakening. 

Birds sang, bugs hummed, and the loud voices of Steve and Bucky’s soldiers could be heard, along with Steve occasionally hushing them if they came too close to their tent, still trying to preserve their well deserved rest. 

The thought made her smile, eyes slowly coming to an open. Bucky’s hand grew tighter on her waist, running circles on the silky fabric by her hip. Hers delicately made its way to brush messy brown locks from James’ closed eyes, the feeling comparable to a feather tickling the bridge of his nose. 

He scrunched it, blinking a few times, before commiting the view of waking up to the face of his wife for the first time to his memory, locked away to where Hydra would hopefully never take it. 

“Good morning, Agent Barnes.”

She shook her head, snuggling further into his chest and stretching her arms. “Mmmhm, not right now.” He placed a confused hand on her back, tracing a line up and down.“I thought it was only Agent Barnes?”

“Not in bed, James.”She looked up, smiling ear to ear. “Right now, I’m your wife, and only your wife.”

It was quiet in the tent, then. But always the one to break the silence, Bucky began to speak, his morning voice so incredibly low that it sent a shiver down her spine. 

“I mean, being my wife is a job in itself.”

They laughed, she shook her head and whacked his chest.

“Right you are.”

She stood up out of bed, shifting her hair to one shoulder with her hand. The glass on the face of her small watch reflected onto the walls, painting a rainbow stripe of light above Bucky’s head. She moved about, her babydoll pink colored slip moving along with her, almost as a toga would flow behind a goddess in the wind. James watched in amazement from his position propped up on his elbows, complete and total awe evident in his heart eyes for his wife. 

God, how he loved to say that, and hear it roll off of his tongue. Just to think it, even.

His wife.

He truly was a lucky man. And as she felt holes being stared into her back, she turned and giggled at Bucky’s antics.

“Now, I know your mother taught a gentleman such as yourself that ogling at women is rude, hmm?” She questioned, throwing the discarded slip at Bucky’s peeping eyes, then pulling on her uniform and beginning to fix her hair and makeup. Fingers moved quickly and expertly as she went about, her red nails almost appearing to move so quickly they were blurring.

He scoffed, forcing his nimble fingers through his knotted hair that could have been comparable to the nest that the very birds that played a hand in awakening them had resided in.

“Even if that woman is my very beautiful wife who I haven’t seen since I went away for war?”

He looked up, eyes bluer than Bing Cosby’s. (Sure, she had only seen them in the magazines, but hey, they seemed quite nice.) She finished putting on her lipstick, walking over and placing a hand under his chin. He looked up in a dreamy haze, basically begging for her lips to be placed on his.

She rolled her eyes and placed a long and sweet kiss upon his plump lips, restoring some of the color that sleep had stolen from them. She giggled at the lipstick left on his ivory skin, wetting her thumb and smudging it in a poor attempt to remove it. He cocked his head like some sort of puppy, slimming his eyes in an amused confusion.

“I guess that’s an exception.”

She leaned forward, leaving a short peck on his forehead, before ruffling his hair and making her way out of the tent. She briefly stopped hanging onto the post that acted as a door of sorts.

“Also, brush your teeth and hair, James. You stink.”

They smiled goofily at each other and she bit her lip, bidding him goodbye. And with that, she was off.

It was later in the day, now, and Bucky, Steve, and the rest of the commandos were in with the Colonel, discussing an upcoming mission. Peggy and Agent Barnes were decoding some of the Hydra messages the commandos had gathered on their previous mission in their general vicinity at the same time.

The paper was yellowed and stiff under her fingers, her eyes could barely stay focused on the multiple symbols in front of her, practically jumping off the page, vibrating at a high frequency.

She briefly closed her eyes and took a breath, trying to free her mind of the distraction that was her husband and honorary little (not so much now physically, but still) brother planning what sounded like an incredibly dangerous mission.

It was like a buzzing in her ear, the mention of capturing one of Hydra’s most valued scientists, and risking their lives in the process. And of course, he often did do just that, risking his life.

But call it wife's intuition, (Is that a thing? She isn’t sure) but she had a horrible feeling about it in the pit of her stomach. Something was telling her she should hug him a little tighter, kiss him a little harder, that kind of thing. And perhaps it could be discarded as the paranoia that had spread through many spouses as the war had started up, in fact, she wished it was.

Too lost in her own thoughts, it took Bucky’s hand on her shoulder to wake her from her trance. He began to quietly and cautiously speak her name in his position.

She turned, jumping ever so slightly. 

“Doll, you alright? Colonel was calling your name, you seemed real out of it.” He placed a hand on her forehead, then to her cheek, checking for any signs of a possible fever.

She didn’t reply to his concerns, only setting her hand utop his, leaning into him and closing her eyes. She opened them only moments later to see James squinting, his glance serious. He was quiet as he spoke, hesitating slightly. He muttered her name, trying to meet her eyes. He looked to see what was wrong, analyzing her, so badly wanting to fix whatever hurt there was lingering in her heart.

They stayed in that position for a while, the rest of the office seemingly standing still. She was the first to remove her hand, Bucky’s following suite.

“There’s a mission, in the Alps. Colonel wants you to come with the commandos and I, Peggy’s to stay here and work coms. He said something ‘bout needing someone who can sneak into places they shouldn’t be.” He chuckled, the sound bringing slight reassurance to her worrying mind.

“I’ll brief you tonight.”

She nodded, looking to her feet and whispering a quiet “okay”. They exchanged I love you’s, and then all that was heard was the faint clicking of James’ boots as he left her standing.

-

March 2nd, 1945

It was downright freezing in the Swiss forest.

And It would have been unbearable, if it weren’t for the fact she had Bucky to keep her warm, the man acting as a living furnace despite the frigid temperatures. The trek to do recom on the train they were intercepting was treacherous, feet ached, fingers were frosted, and the group spent much of their time (minus Steve, he had done enough of that when he was a sickly 90 pound asmatic) complaining to Mrs. Barnes, much to her dismay.

Usually, she would tell them off with a shake of her head or a slap to the arm, discarding their whines are nonsense.

In return for putting up with said nonsense, the commandos took her under their wing, so to say.

They never treated her differently than the rest of the group (or else she would have probably made her displeasure known, which both James and Steven warned them heavily against). Sharing the scotch, poking fun. In fact, if it weren’t for the nature of their escapade, she would have gone as far to say that she was having fun.

The only exception to this treatment was if she had to change, oftentimes borrowing a henley of Bucky’s or a pair of his trousers, the extra fabric heating her up quite nicely. Bucky would stand in front of whatever tree trunk she was hiding behind, watching to make sure no wandering eyes made any shameful attempts to catch a glimpse.

But overall, they worked well together, and were beginning to grow into a family, not that any of them would admit it.

“Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“What’re the chances this goes horribly wrong?”

He looked to his right to meet her eyes, wrapping an arm around his wife. They both turned back to the landscape of mountains, which were ironically quite beautiful. They were greeted with howling wind biting their noses and cheeks, causing her to let out a yelp, turning her head and tucking into Bucky’s arm briefly. He smiled and stroked the top of her messily tied back hair, allowing her to momentarily find comfort within his hold for what they didn't know would be the last time.

“With me? Nah, We’ll be alright. Zero to none.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled at his cocky behavior as she always would, his smirk settling her nerves.

“Yeah.” She exhaled. “We’ll be alright.”

-

March 4th, 1945

The brick remains of the pub were dimly lit by the lone street lamp standing bravely on the cobblestone, illuminating the puffy faces of the two sitting inside. Steve, stone cold sober, and Agent Barnes, drunk and with tears streaming down her flushed skin. The dust had barely settled; it could still be felt, burning her nostrils.

She heard heels, a telltale sign that Peggy had arrived, sorting through the rubble.

She had approached calmly, observing the situation. Steve muttered something about not being able to get drunk, earning some heartfelt speech from the other agent and a proclamation of a newfound fire for justice in Steve. But Peggy’s sorrowful glance soon became unreadable, then transitioning into one of anger and sympathy, however that was possible.

She tried calling the surviving Barnes’ name, voice stern. She snatched the bottle from her friends hand, noticing she had downed the whole thing.

She began some winded spiel, none of it processing, only a faint buzz in one ear out the other.

“I know you’re hurting, but James would have wanted you to pick yourself up, an-”

“He lied. You know that? The bastard lied.”

She wiped a singular tear from her left eye, staring blankly at the ring that still managed to shine even then, in what was close to total darkness in every sense.

“He said that we would be alright. That him and I would be okay. And then he went and you know what he did, Peg? He died.”

Steve looked up, and stood, walking to where she was across from him. 

He gently tugged her up and wordlessly pulled her into a hug.

She was stiff as a board at first but slowly melted into it, realizing that it felt nice to be cared for by him like she did all those years ago, the favor being returned when she most needed it.

“We’ll fix this, I promise.”

She closed her eyes tighter, digging her nails into his shoulders.

“I know.”

-

May 26th, 1945

“Steve, I’m not leaving you!”

“Go, grab the parachute and go, I’ll send your coordinates to Peggy! Both of us don’t have to die.”

“Steve, it’s alright.”

He met her eyes, water pooling in both of their orbs.

“I’ll be with him.” She forced a smile, taking hold of one of Steve’s gloved hands.

“It’s not too late for you to go, Stevie. I’ll put her in the water. If you wait any longer you won’t make it.”

The time was passing, they could hear the uncomfortable sloshing of the Arctic water below them, coming closer and closer. Jagged ice taunted them, glistening faintly in the light.

“Please, don’t do this to Peg.”

Steve had made his decision, as had she.

“See you on the other side, Barnes.”

The sound was difficult to decipher at the command center, static intercepting the voices of the pair as they bargained with death. But it was clear enough in order for everyone to realize what was happening.

Heads were bowed, tears fell, and even the Colonel allowed a salty drop to roll down his weathered cheek.

Steve and Peggy conversed, while Barnes sat next to Steve, closing her eyes. She was content. She was finally going home.

“I’d hate to step on your-”

Then, the line went dead.

“See ya, Rogers.”

-

2011

“This guy is still alive!”

“And the girl?”

The other man only shook his head.

-

2013

Skye dragged her finger along the etchings on the gray stone, mentally reading the names of fallen soldiers and agents.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.'s history can be traced on walls like this.”

Then she came upon something peculiar. Her finger lingered momentarily, the name on the plaque bringing back memories of when she was a young girl in school, learning about James Buchanan Barnes, one of two Howling Commandos to have died in the line of duty. The other, she couldn’t quite seem to remember.

“Huh. Bucky Barnes.” She looked a moment longer, reading the script underneath James’ name. 

“There was another Barnes?”

She turned to Agent Ward who was standing behind her, arms crossed and chin down.

“Yeah. They were married. Some say she put that plane in the water on purpose. That she could have left, but wanted to see him again after he died.

Puts it in perspective- What we do.”

-

2014

The lights in the exhibit were bright, too bright. Faces were plastered everywhere, familiar faces. The soldier felt lost without his handler, no direction whatsoever as he aimlessly wandered.

Aimlessly wandering, what a foreign concept. Not running from an enemy, or sneaking around, a shadow. Free to do whatever he pleases.

He saw his own reflection on a glass panel, information of who he supposedly was written next to it, about when he was born, when he had died. Videos playing on repeat of him and Steve nearby caught his attention, leading him to slowly make his way towards the shiny screen. He saw himself laugh, smiling with whoever this Steve guy was.

Then the screen switched to him and a girl.

In a slight contrast, the girl was the one laughing this time, her smile igniting something within the soldier, overwhelming him with a flurry of emotion and realization.

He panicked, turning to his left, only to see her again, standing next to him in a large mural. She was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

A voice began to speak, clouding his senses even more.

It spoke about Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers, how they were “inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield.”

It continued, and his confusion grew even further. It mentioned a girl who had what he learned to be his last name.

Not a mother, or a sister, but a wife.

“They became the only Howling Commandos to give their lives in service of their country."

Her name rang in his head, over and over again. He was married, he had a wife.

Had.

He walked up to where her clothes were displayed under her portrait, reaching a tentative hand out and feeling the fabric, rough from time. He could remember doing that before, but the fabric was silkier, then. It was different as a whole. It was pink satin, and the wearer was his wife, he now could see.

He was in a tent, laying on a scratchy cot, the girl laying with him, in his arms.

“Right now, I’m your wife, and only your wife.” Her smile and laugh were heavenly, her voice like honey. Her touch was smooth and left a tingle in its wake, bringing peace to his bustling mind.

Then he was suddenly back in the museum, hand still planted firmly on the hem of the shirt.

“Excuse me? Sir? You can’t be touching that.”

The soldier turned, facing the scrawny worker. His glasses were too large, hair too short, and pants 2 sizes too big. He gulped, doing a double take from the mural of James Barnes (who last time he checked a history book, had his remains somewhere buried under piles of ice and snow in the mountains of the Alps) and the man in front of him, who matched the recently trending image his coworker showed him of the Winter Soldier, the assassin who had over two dozen kills under his belt.

And if this were a mission, the soldier would have killed the man, executed him without second thought.

But now, he had free will. He had a choice.

So he chose to mutter a low “sorry” under his breath, pulling his baseball cap further over his brow and exiting the facility as quickly as possible.

The worker quit that night.

-

2016

A feed began to play on the tiny screen that Tony, Steve, and Bucky were crowded around, no video, just black with a thin line, moving in accordance with the audio. The sound was choppy, like it had been modified.

Zemo’s beady eyes slanted, a cold smile growing on his bearded face.

“I’ll be with him.”

“What the hell is this?” James yelled the question aimed towards both Zemo and himself.

But Steve knew exactly what it was, knew that voice, knew the feeling of the cold water enveloping him as he did his best to keep her warm in her final moments, a final favor for both Bucky and his wife.

“It’s not too late for you to go, Stevie. I’ll put her in the water. If you wait any longer you won’t make it.”

It was quiet, the line stopped moving. 

“See you on the other side, Barnes.”

“See ya, Rogers.”

The audio cut out.

“It’s her.” Bucky’s metal fist audibly clenched, his eyes darkening.

“You let her die, Steve.”

“Buck-”

“You killed her! I had a wife, and you let her die!”

Steve backed up, instinctively raising the shield from Bucky once more.

“That was her choice, Bucky.”

He was calm. Too calm.

“I don’t give a damn what her choice was, you should’ve pushed her out of that damn plane if you had to.”

“She wouldn’t have survived that fall, Buck, even with a parachute, she probably would have drowned, or gotten hypothermia or-”

“You don’t know that!”

Bucky rushed forward, anger infiltrating every fibre of his being. He threw a punch with his metal arm, a loud clang ringing out as it collided with the vibranium shield.

-

2024

“We’ll meet again

Don’t know where, don’t know when

But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day”

The room was pitch black aside from the blinking light on the record player, letting Bucky know that power was still running through the wires of the machine, keeping the same song spinning, over, and over, and over again.

The same one that’s been playing for the past 2 months. Over, and over, and over again.

The door creaked, sending a stream of light cascading across Bucky’s ridden features from his place where he was sat staring blankly at her tags laying in his flesh hand. He had started wearing them when she insisted, just in case anything were to happen to her, she wanted him to have a physical reminder of her. He had refused to give her his own, not wanting to admit anything might go wrong to where she would need them.

What a joke.

Zola had recovered them from around his neck, later to be stored away and then found by Steve in 2015 during a Hydra base invasion. He had immediately recognized the name pressed onto the material, and assumed someone who was an undercover agent snagged them during the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., never thinking anything more of it.

“This isn’t healthy, man.” Sam spoke softly from the door, his hand never leaving the doorknob.

“When we got snapped away, I didn’t mind it.”

Sam opened the door even more, sliding in the slim crack, closing it behind him.

Bucky’s glance never faltered.

“I thought that maybe, I’d finally see her again. And, I know it was selfish-” He laughed dryly, meeting Sam’s warm eyes.

“But she wasn’t there. When I died, she wasn’t there.”

Sam’s arms were crossed, now, and he was unsure of how to proceed with the fragile shell of a man in front of him.

“Then everyone came back 5 years later, she still wasn’t there.” He chuckled once more, feeling over her name on the plates, tossing the chain over his head. It was quiet, the record stopped.

“And this sounds crazy, but I got to thinking, that she must still be alive-”

“You know she’s gone, Bucky.”

James stood up, walking over to Sam, a terrifying blaze set in his eyes. He was frantic, hands moving about the air, neck straining.

“She’s not, Hydra has her! I’m certain, just like they had me. What else would explain her not being there?”

“You’re in denial,”

“No, I’m not! She’s waiting for me! She’s waiting for me to come find her, Sam!” He yelled, every word louder than the last.

And Sam Wilson had enough. 

“Alright, that’s it.” He grabbed James by the wrist, taking his chances.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting some sense into you.”

More yelling and fighting ensued, all the way to the car, Bucky only ceasing his behavior upon realizing where they were heading. He was silent, then.

Getting out of the vehicle, they stepped onto freshly wet soil, green patches fading to a burnt orange, the rain a poor attempt at revival. They could hear their own footsteps all the way to their final destination, turmoil settling in.

“Why’d you take me here, Sam?”

It had started raining, the cold droplets making his hair stick to his forehead, and his tears invisible.

Mere inches before him sat two headstones, both fairly worn. The first, reading “Cap. Steven Grant Rogers, a true American hero. Loving brother, friend, and son.”

The second? Her.

Most of the words all blended together, it was clear Steve’s was the only one that had any regular visitors, willing to clean off any dirt or grime, or occasionally bring flowers (always red roses for Cap, as for his wife, he hoped that when it did happen, it was her favorites, lilies. He doubted it was, though). 

The only words that managed to stick out, at least to him, were “Barnes” and “loving wife”. He inhaled, capturing the scent of fresh rain and roses, grounding him. He felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, giving a light squeeze.

“I’m sorry I had to do that, but she’s gone, you know?”

He nodded, squatting down in an awkward position.

“Can I have a minute?”

Sam nodded, turning to go.

“‘Course, I’ll be in the car.”

Bucky waited until he could no longer see the outline of the shorter man, before taking the tags off from where they rested around his neck, positioning them utop the marble slab. He gathered a few weeds, messily shoving them into the vase, dirt and stray blades of grass falling all over the place. He tried to brush it off, only creating a sludge-like watery mixture.

He leaned forward, taking hold of the hard stone.

“I’m coming for you, sweetheart. I promise, I’ll find you.”

“Bucky?” Sam yelled from the car, confused at the extended amount of time his friend was taking.

James turned, yelling over his shoulder, “Coming!”

-

Once Bucky got back to the car, Sam reached over and patted his back, starting the engine.

“You think you’re gonna be okay?”

James only smiled, looking out behind him to where they all said was her final resting place, excitement for the future running through his veins.

“Yeah.” He said, sitting further back into the seat, closing his eyes. 

“I’ll be alright.”

·。·☆·。·。

hi!

disclaimer: (skip if u dont care) so i’ve had personal expiriences w alcoholism, and my pov has changed so much on the disease and as well as how to handle it w more empathy, and i just hope that is conveyed. my hope w my work is never to upset or offend anyone, and i hope u enjoyed. if u have a prob w anything, shoot me a message or ask to chat :)

go drink water, eat protein (if u can!) and take an electronics break. i love u, 

xx hj

[ladyherenya]

Books read in December

I set myself some reading goals for the end of the year -- finish any books I’d already started, read the books I'd already borrowed, and to read ebooks I’d bought before buying any more. But I guess most of those books just weren’t the right genre? A few exceptions aside, this month I read a bunch of other things instead.

Also read: The Frost Fair Affair and Holiday Brew by Tansy Rayner Roberts, and Sweetest in the Gale and 40-Love by Olivia Dade.

Reread: Love Lettering by Kate Clayborn and Bookish and the Beast by Ashley Poston.

Total: thirteen novels (including two audiobooks and two rereads), three novellas, and three story/novella collections.

Favourite cover: The cover was what caught my attention for Finding My Voice and Old Baggage.

Still reading: Between Silk and Cyanide by Leo Marks, Or What You Will by Jo Walton and The Disorderly Knights by Dorothy Dunnett.

Next up: A Most Improper Magick by Stephanie Burgis.

*

Queen’s Play by Dorothy Dunnett (narrated by David Monteath): In 1548, Francis Crawford of Lymond arrives in France, incognito in order to protect Scotland’s queen, seven-year-old Mary. I enjoyed this, even though I am not very interested in the antics of the French court and thought The Game of Kings benefitted from having more characters who I found wholly likeable and/or who matter, personally, to Lymond. Dunnett is an impressive storyteller -- vivid descriptions, lively dialogue, nuanced characters and twists that take me by surprise. Moreover, those satisfying puzzle pieces explain the plots and intrigue, give insight into personalities and develop the narrative’s themes (here, the consequences of power). 

The Kinship of Secrets by Eugenia Kim: In 1950, four year old Inja lives with her grandparents and uncle in Seoul, while her sister Miran is in America with their parents. War delays the family’s reunion. This is a fascinating portrayal of two sisters growing up in different countries, and an incredibly poignant story about a family separated. Compelling, and beautifully written, and despite moments of intense grief, hopeful. I liked how, in the end, Inja and Miran didn’t have all the answers.. But I wonder if I’d have found the ending more satisfying if I had a deeper understanding of who they both were as adults.

Teacup Magic series by Tansy Rayner Roberts:

Tea and Sympathetic Magic: Stephanie Burgis recommended this novella as something similar to her Harwood Spellbook series and it certainly has a similar appeal: romantic fantasy, bordering on comedy-of-manners territory. Like Georgette Heyer but with magic and diversity and an intention to challenge problematic and outdated attitudes. Charming and cosy, like a good cup of tea rather than a frothy hot chocolate. Miss Mnemosyne Seaborne, a reluctant guest at a houseparty. She joins forces with the other guests after an unexpected abduction occurs. Entertaining, and even though it was too short for me to really become invested, I immediately wanted to read the sequel.

The Frost Fair Affair: After her previous adventures, Mneme has new friends, a suitor and a campaign: overturning the social conventions which prevent women from travelling by portal. After someone in Town steals her political pamphlets, she gets caught up in a mystery. I enjoyed this oh so much! I found myself caring a lot more about Mneme and her relationships; I liked the mixture of intrigue and danger, and how in the cause of dealing with these, Mneme learns more about the man she hopes to marry; and the Frost Fair, on a frozen river, makes a delightful setting. I'd love to read more.

Belladonna U(niversity) series by Tansy Rayner Roberts:

Unreal Alchemy: Oh, this is my new favourite! Urban fantasy about Australian uni students who are connected to an indie rock band, Fake Geek Girl. These stories are funny, geeky and romantic, with great chapter titles and lots of fandom references. They employ different points of view and different narrative styles in a way that’s really effective. I love the characters and how important and intense their non-romantic relationships are. Between them they have a variety of romantic/sexual relationships and feelings, but friendships and familial relationships, like the one between twin sisters Hebe and Holly, also drive the narrative. The first collection contains four stories/novellas.

Fake Geek Girl -- Ferd moves into the Manic Pixie Dream House; Holly and Sage argue about the future of the band.

Unmagical Boy Story -- Viola has feelings about her best friend losing his magic, transferring colleges and making new friends.

The Bromancers --  The band and frriends spend a weekend at a magical music festival.

The Alchemy of Fine -- A prequel about the band’s origins.

Holiday Brew: This collection is more serious and less overtly fandom-y than the first, but arguably still very meta (especially if you consider Viola, Jules and Ferd as a response to the trio in Harry Potter). I sat down intending to read just one of these stories -- and ended up reading them all.

Halloween Is Not A Verb -- Holly invites various people to their mums’ place for Halloween.

Solstice on the Rocks -- A short story about university graduation.

Kissing Basilisks --  Begins on New Year’s Day, is compelling, and picks up the non-band-related narrative threads from Fake Geek Girl.

Missing Christmas by Kate Clayborn: This novella is loosely connected to Beginer's Luck but stands alone. It's sweet. Business partners and best friends Jasper and Kristen pay a last minute trip to a client and get trapped by a blizzard, which pushes them to reconsider the boundaries they’ve drawn in their relationship. I liked the moments which showed that they’re an effective team because they know each other so well and can communicate through subtle body language. 

Finding My Voice by Marie Myung-Ok Lee: Ellen is a Korean-American teenager in her final year of high school. Her story is about applying for college, gymnastics training, Ellen’s relationships with her best friend and her first boyfriend, dealing with racism at school and with her parents’ expectations that she will follow her sister to Harvard. It’s very short, first published in 1993. I was aware of all the places where a YA novel written today would be allowed to give more details and to expand the story, but it was still interesting.

The Magnolia Sword: A Ballad of Mulan by Sherry Thomas: I’ve borrowed this several times this year, only to return it unread each time, and I was starting to wonder if I really wanted to read it. But once I actually sat down and focused, I quickly realised that I definitely did! I became completely engrossed in this Mulan retelling. It’s a tense adventure. I enjoyed the characters and their interactions, particularly the elaborate courtesy of formal conversations, and the way Mulan and her companions value loyalty and camaraderie. I thought this was a very believable take on the whole girl-disguised-as-a-boy thing too.

Dear Mrs Bird by AJ Pearce: In 1940, Emmy wants a newspaper job but is instead typing up letters for a women’s magazine and discarding mail from readers whose problems are Unacceptable. Frustrated that Mrs Bird won’t offer advice to so many women in need, Emmy's tempted to take matters into her own hands. Her optimism means she makes some naive mistakes, some of which made me wince, but it’s also an incredible strength. She's delightful company. I really like how much of this story is about her friendship with Bunty and I enjoyed the insight into women's magazines and the Auxiliary Fire Service.

The Lonely Hearts Dog Walkers by Sheila Norton: Recently separated, Nicola moves back in with her mother, starts as a teaching assistant at her daughter’s new school, gets a puppy and joins a group of dog walkers, who embark upon a mission to save the local park. This was very low-angst and, once I realised the sort of story it was, kind of predictable. I can recognise the appeal of this brand of realism, but personally would have preferred more humour or more emotional complexity. Were Nicola a colleague, it’d be easy to find things in common to discuss, but her story wasn’t quite what I was looking for.

Chasing Lucky by Jenn Bennett: When Josie and her mother return to Beauty to look after the family bookshop, Josie has plans -- keep to herself, finish high school, secure a photography apprenticeship, move to LA. But after Josie accidentally breaks a store-front window and her childhood friend Lucky takes the blame, Josie’s priorities change. I enjoyed this more than I expected to. I particularly liked how Lucky subverts people’s expectations, and how Josie’s family works at communicating better with each other.

Old Baggage by Lissa Evans (narrated by Joanna Scanlan): It’s 1928 and Mattie Simpkin, a now-middle-aged militant suffragette, lives in Hampstead with her friend Florrie Lee (aka The Flea). Mattie gives lectures about the suffragettes but realises she’s not reaching the younger generation. So she starts a club for “healthy outdoor fun” for teenage girls. Mattie is wonderfully forthright -- amusing, engaging and informative when it comes to things she’s passionate about -- but she’s also fallible.  A really delightful yet bittersweet story about friendship and loss and the opportunities available for women. I liked its awareness that being able to loudly be yourself is a privilege not everyone has. 

There’s Something About Marysburg series by Olivia Dade:

Teach Me: Rose is unimpressed -- not only must she share her classroom with the new history teacher, he’s been given her Honors World History class. There’s something particularly satisfying about people who have been hurt and lonely finding support and love in each other. I like that they get to know each other over many months. I like Martin’s relationship with his teenage daughter and Rose’s relationship with her ex’s parents is so touching that one scene made me cry. And it was interesting seeing the US school system from the perspective of experienced teachers; I appreciated the details about their jobs.

Sweetest in the Gale: a Marysburg story collection contains three novellas about couples in their forties.

Sweetest in the Gale -- Griff is worried when Candy, a fellow English teacher, returns for the new school year uncharacteristically sombre and subdued. A really sweet romance about people who are navigating loss and grief.

Unraveled -- Maths teacher Simon is assigned to observe and mentor the new art teacher, Poppy. I enjoyed the threads of mystery.

Cover Me -- After a concerning mammogram result, Elizabeth marries an old friend so she’s covered by his health insurance. Predictable as anything, but that made it a safe position from which to explore serious and sobering topics.

40-Love: I’m not interested in tennis or holiday resorts; I was disappointed that this novel wouldn’t show Tess being an assistant principal; and even though some of my favourite fictional couples have a significant age-gap, I’m wary about age-gap romances (and socially-programmed to think it’s odd for a woman to date a much younger guy). But I liked the other stories in this series and I was curious. It’s Not really My Cup of Tea, but I was convinced that Tess and Lucas were both capable of making their (somewhat unconventional) relationship work. An interesting exercise in challenging my social-programming.

The Viscount Who Loved Me by Julia Quinn: After watching Bridgerton (not always to my tastes but mostly fun), curiosity prompted me to read the opening of the second novel, and I was so entertained by Kate Sheffield verbally sparring with the viscount, whom Kate is determined to prevent from marrying her younger sister. I continued to be entertained up until the viscount acts a bit too entitled on his wedding night (that’s unattractive, if outrightly problematic). Which left me in rather an uncharitable mood for the final act, so I can’t identify if the drama of dealing with past traumas didn’t meet the standard of the earlier comedy or if I just hold such scenes to differing standards.

[remedialpotions]

Lost and Found

A/N: Hermione turns 40 today - so I wrote fic about it ☺️ Thanks to @aloemilk for giving it her magic touch.

Summary: Two birthdays, thirty years apart.

Word Count: 3,404

Rating: K+, just for the verrrry brief implication that two married adults might be about to have some sexytimes (scandalous!) 😜

FFN | AO3

***

September, 1989

Hermione walked slowly through the rows of desks, her patent-leather saddle shoes ringing out against the linoleum floor. The stack of delicate, pale pink envelopes in her arms was so tall that she could hardly see over it, but with each desk she passed, it grew gradually smaller, and soon she could hold them all easily in her hands.

Few faces looked her way as she passed. One boy, Marcus Abernathy, picked up the envelope in his pudgy hands with a look of curiosity mixed with disdain.

“What’s this?” He ripped recklessly through the flap of the envelope, even though Hermione’s mum had told her not to bother with sealing them properly, with the glue, since they weren’t going into the post.

“It’s an invitation to my birthday party,” said Hermione, feeling her cheeks go pink as Marcus stared at her, his expression blank. “It’s on Saturday, the sixteenth of September - well, my actual birthday is on the nineteenth, but since I’ll be ten, my parents said I could invite everyone in the class-“

“Oh.”

Marcus shoved the invite, pink envelope and all, into his rucksack; the paper caught on the zipper and tore. Without another glance at Hermione, he spun in his seat and started a conversation with Henry Grant.

[[MORE]]

Well, thought Hermione sniffily, she did not want an unmannered lump like him at her party anyway. She and her mum had planned a very classy sort of day, with tea and finger sandwiches and elegant pastries, and she didn’t want any messy boys breaking the china or chewing with their mouths open.

She turned down another row of desks, surveying the rest of the classroom as she went. Most of the envelopes were still right where she had left them, neatly in the upper left corner of the desk. Which was not cause for concern; once everyone stopped socializing, they would definitely notice the invitation.

As she approached the back of the classroom, her stomach turned over. Miriam Palmer was holding court with her usual small crowd of admirers, who typically didn’t pay Hermione much mind. But then again, they had invited her to work on that group project during maths last week, and since then, Miriam had even started waving hello to her during morning drop-off. Besides, she and her friends did seem like the type to enjoy a nice, sophisticated tea party…

Squaring her shoulders, Hermione marched up to them.

“Hi,” she said, unsure why her voice was shaking. “Erm, it’s going to be my birthday next week, and I’m having a party-“ She thrust the envelopes at them, ignoring the furtive glances they exchanged. “It’s on Saturday, the sixteenth, even though my birthday is on the nineteenth - it isn’t like you can have a birthday party on a Tuesday, can you, not if you want anyone to be there - well-“ She swallowed. “You’ll need to RSVP by the twelfth, my parents’ phone number is on the invitation, so just have your mum or dad ring to let them know you’re coming.”

Miriam’s lips stretched wide over her face. “Thank you,” she chirped, pushing her silky blonde hair over her shoulder. “It’s very nice of you to invite me, but I’m afraid I can’t make it. I have a prior engagement.”

Even to Hermione’s young ears, the words sounded stilted and rehearsed - like Miriam’s mum had taught them to her.

“Really?” blurted Hermione. “What is it?”

“I have a prior engagement,” Miriam repeated, “but thank you.”

With a hurried nod, Hermione turned on her heel and started toward her desk at the front of the classroom. Seconds later, there was a clatter as all of Miriam’s notebooks and pencils fell suddenly from her desk to the floor.

It wasn’t until the Thursday night before the party that Hermione’s mum knocked on the door to her bedroom.

Sitting up on the bed, Hermione carefully placed a bookmark into her copy of Emma. “Come in.”

Her mum entered and perched on the end of the bed. “Hermione, dear,” she began gently, in the same tone she had used when Hermione came down with pneumonia last year, “I haven’t heard from any mums and dads about your party. Didn’t you pass out the invitations?”

“Yes,” replied Hermione warily. “Everyone got one, I made sure.”

And she had. She had watched as they went tucked into bookbags or between the pages of notebooks, watched as people pulled the hand-written invitation from the envelope to read it. They were taking them home, she had told herself, so that they could ask permission from their parents to attend. Part of her had really believed it, too.

Something flickered on her mum’s face. “Well, it must just be a busy weekend for a lot of people. But your Gran will be there, and all your cousins, too - Freya and Gemma are so excited. It’ll still be a really lovely party, dear, okay?”

“It’s fine,” said Hermione, turning back to her book, desperate to escape into a fictional world. “I didn’t want a big party anyway.”

•••

September, 2019

“So.” Ron nudged her ankle with his toe. “What do you want to do for your birthday?”

“Nothing,” replied Hermione, never lifting her gaze from the file on her lap.

“You never let me do anything for your birthday.”

“Because I never want to.”

“Oh, come on.” Ron inched closer to her on the sofa. “It’s going to be your fortieth-“

“Don’t remind me-“

“-so we can’t do nothing.”

“We really can.” She planted the files on the coffee table and shifted, pulling a knee onto the cushion to face him. “It’s just another year, it’s not a big deal to me. It won’t be much fun anyway, the kids are both away at school now and I can’t stop worrying about how Hugo’s settling in.”

“But he’s doing fine,” said Ron, surprised. “Neville said in his letter last week, he’s doing really well.”

“Oh, I know, I’m sure he’s doing well in classes, he’s smart, but Neville’s not there in the dorms or the common room, he doesn’t know what really goes on with the other kids, you know?”

Ron paused, watching her, and then scooted until they shared the same cushion, his arm snaking around Hermione’s shoulders.

“I know, but remember? Neville said he’s been sitting with the same group of kids every day in the Great Hall?”

“With them or just near them?”

“Hermione,” said Ron patiently. “He’s making friends. He’s all right.”

“I suppose.”

Logically, her worry was both useless and unfounded. Her son took after his father: he was a bright, friendly, outgoing child, and he possessed not an ounce of shyness. He was not the sort of student who would correct his classmates when they answered a question wrong or try to tell them what to do. He had older cousins watching out for him and a sister who had no qualms about telling anyone what was on her mind.

Ron was right; Hugo would be just fine. But fitting in seamlessly, without pain or struggle, was still something rather difficult for Hermione to comprehend.

“So, your birthday,” Ron piped up after a minute or two of contemplative silence, kissing the side of her head. “Why don’t we just go to dinner? We could invite Harry and Ginny, George and Ange - I’m sure my mum and dad will want to do something-“

“That’s fine,” she interrupted with a steadying hand on his leg. “You can invite whomever, but nobody needs to make a big fuss, it falls on a Thursday and everyone’s got work and kids and their own lives to deal with. It’s fine if it’s just the two of us.”

“All right,” said Ron, taking his arm back and pushing up off the sofa. As Hermione pulled her files back into her lap, he wandered into the kitchen, where she could hear him opening cupboards. “What kind of cake d’you want?” he called.

“What?”

“For your birthday.” The cupboard hinges creaked again. “I’m gonna bake you a cake.”

“I’m not turning seven, Ron, I don’t need a cake-“

“If you don’t choose, I’ll just decide on my own, and what if I feel like making a carrot cake that day-“

“No!” she shouted back, thankful he couldn’t see her face scrunched up in silent laughter. “Chocolate, then. Please.”

“Chocolate it is.”

In the days that followed, each and every evening was marked by Ron returning home from the joke shop, kissing Hermione on the cheek (or forehead, or lips, or on the back of her neck to make gooseflesh pop up on her skin) and advising her of another friend or family member who would be attending her birthday. Which was lovely, truly. He was the one sending owls to everyone, and popping round the market to pick up more cocoa powder for her cake, and contacting the restaurant to reserve a table. She was not unaccustomed to this sort of behavior from him - he never seemed to realize how wonderful he was unless she told him, and even then, he never believed it was anything remarkable - but more than once she thought of stopping him, pulling the quill and parchment from his hands and telling him that what was doing was lovely, but he didn’t have to do it.

Rain spattered the windows as dusk gave way to dawn on the morning of the nineteenth of September, not that Hermione really noticed. Her attention had shifted wholly to the man currently dragging his lips up the column of her throat with near-agonizing laziness.

“Morning,” he mumbled against the edge of her jaw before brushing their lips together. “Happy birthday.”

She laughed against his kiss. “Is it?”

“It’s about to be.”

He kissed her again, deeper, and she sank back into the lush blankets as the buttons loosened on her pyjama top…

It was rather worth her tardiness to work. Her mood now brightened, she set to work reading through old case law in preparation for an upcoming hearing, and became so involved that she hardly noticed when lunchtime arrived and brought with it a flurry of owls to the Ministry offices from all over Britain. One particular tawny owl came tumbling through the private fireplace in Hermione’s office, two parcels tied tightly to his leg.

She jumped up from her desk to help him, setting him upright and fetching the cargo. Both were clumsily wrapped in brown paper and addressed in felt-tip marker:

Hermione Granger (aka Mum)

Ministry of Magic

Department of Magical Law Enforcement

London, England

She fumbled with the string on the first parcel before finally using her wand to severe it, and then carefully peeled away the paper without ripping it. Inside she found a folded sheet of parchment and a pair of mittens, hand-knitted with deep aubergine wool.

Dear Mum,

Happy birthday! I hope you like the mittens and that they fit. I made them myself but Lucy’s the one who taught me to knit, she said there’s a spell to make it go faster but she wouldn’t teach me that part of it so I did it the Muggle way.

I hope you have a great day!

Love,

Rose

Hermione took a moment to imagine her daughter - who played Beater on the Quidditch team and bore perpetually-skinned knees as a child and received detention in her first year for trying to find a unicorn in the Forbidden Forest - sitting down and quietly learning how to knit from one of her cousins.

Hermione set the mittens down, gingerly, and picked up the next parcel. It was significantly heavier, and took longer to unwrap thanks to the sheer volume of Spello-tape that her son had used to secure it. Inside, she found another folded bit of parchment and a slightly lopsided ceramic mug glazed in blue paint.

Where would he have even gotten the clay to make it? There was an art supply store in Hogsmeade, but first-years didn’t even have access to the village. He had to have enlisted the help of one of his older cousins.

Dear Mum,

I hope you like this mug, it’s so you have something for when you’re working at night and want a cup of tea. Or you can keep it in your office, that’s okay too. Your other mug has a chip in it so I thought you might want a new one.

Love,

Hugo

P.S. Happy birthday! I forgot to write that before.

All these years, she had thought Ron was the one orchestrating her birthday and holiday gifts from the kids - and when they had been toddlers, of course he had been, just as she had done for him. But now they were miles away, and they had taken time away from their friends and Quidditch and the unending magic of Hogwarts to do something for her. She didn’t even care if Ron had sent them letters to remind them: they’d still actually done it.

“Stay put,” she snapped at the owl, who had stretched his wings as though considering flight. “I’ve got letters for you.”

Pulling out a piece of stationery and a quill, she began to compose her words of gratitude to her children.

“Of course they got you gifts,” said Ron, though he grinned, when Hermione showed him her bounty that evening at home. His sleeves were shoved up to his elbows and his hands were lightly dusted in flour. The work surface was covered in various measuring cups, sacks of sugar, a carton of eggs. “Our kids are good kids, y’know.”

“Yes, of course I know that.” Hermione shrugged off her cloak and started toward the hall closet. “I just didn’t really expect - well. What time is our dinner reservation?”

“Seven,” replied Ron, holding a teaspoon up to eye level as he poured vanilla extract into it. “And don’t worry, I’ve got something for you too.”

Hermione paused in the process of toeing off her shoes. “I wasn’t worrying - you don’t ever have to get me anything.”

“Well, just so that you know that it’s something more than just, er, what I gave you this morning.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her and dumped the vanilla into a mixing bowl.

With a playful roll of her eyes, Hermione retreated to their bedroom to change.

By the time she emerged, he was sliding the cake tins into the oven, and then he went to have a shower, since he never could manage to bake anything without making a mess of himself. He had timed it out perfectly; the sponge cake had cooled with just enough time for Ron to frost it before they had to depart for the restaurant.

“Want to have a slice now?” asked Ron, studying his handiwork. “A pre-dinner snack?”

“You’ll ruin your appetite.”

Ron shook his head in affected disappointment. “After seventeen years of marriage, I really thought you’d know me better than to think my appetites are at all ruinable.”

“Oh, come on,” said Hermione, dragging him to the door, “let’s go.”

She was not sure what she had envisioned for the evening when they arrived at Il Stregone, the new Italian restaurant near the Leaky Cauldron. Quite a large part of her had imagined that their grand table of well-wishers would need to be slowly broken down as guests failed to appear, until she and Ron ended up tucked away at a small table in the back of the restaurant. She would have been perfectly fine with that. It was unreasonable to expect everyone to drop their lives, on a weekday, just because the anniversary of her birth had come around again.

Instead, they were swept to a back room of the restaurant, where they found Harry and Ginny already waiting for them, glasses of wine in their hands.

“Happy birthday!” Harry exclaimed, rushing over, and Hermione found herself enveloped in what would be the first of many hugs this evening.

Ginny hugged her next, and placed a glass of red wine into Hermione’s hands, and then George and Angelina arrived, the latter gifting her a bottle of champagne, the former tossing out good-natured jibes about Hermione’s old age.

And so it went: Hermione’s parents arrived with Molly and Arthur, who had helped them access Diagon Alley; then Bill and Fleur with more champagne; Charlie, who had spent the last month in Britain working with a colony of Welsh Green dragons; and finally Percy and Audrey, who apologized profusely for being late, though it wasn’t even ten minutes past.

Hermione had never been one for big celebrations. She and Ron had not even had a proper wedding, choosing to elope instead, and she had never once regretted it. But as she looked around, watching as Harry clandestinely stole a noodle from Ginny’s plate and as her parents attempted to explain their mobile phones to Arthur, it did not feel one bit like the sort of forced social gathering that she despised. It just felt like people she loved, all in one room.

“We don’t have to stay late,” Hermione remarked to Ron even as, across the table, Harry ordered another bottle of Chianti. “Everyone’s got work tomorrow, they shouldn’t feel obligated-“

“Hermione,” said Ron gently. “Look around you. Everyone’s having a good time, I didn’t have to twist anyone’s arm to get them to be here.”

She looked around again; it did appear that Ron was right.

“But anyway,” Ron continued, and his hand slipped into hers under the table, “I’ve got to talk to you about your gift, because you’ve got a couple choices of what it can be.”

“I told you that you don’t have to get me anything-“

“Option one,” said Ron loudly over her, making her shake her head as she laughed, “is going down to the Magical Menagerie and picking out a new kitten.”

“A kitten?!”

“If you want-“

“The thing about it is that if you’re going to get one kitten, you’re better off getting two at once,” Hermione explained, mind racing about a thousand miles a minute, “since Kneazles are such social animals, they learn from each other-“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Ron held up his free hand. “Who said anything about a Kneazle? I was talking about just a, y’know, regular cat-“

“Crookshanks was part-Kneazle,” Hermione said firmly, “and he was the most wonderful cat in the whole world-“

“He definitely was one of a kind,” said Ron carefully. “But all right, I hear you about the two kittens thing. I’ll let you think about it. The other choice is a holiday, just me and you. I was thinking Paris.”

“Ron,” said Hermione, even as her heart swelled with affection for him, “that sounds incredible, really, but it’s too much - even tonight is so much more than enough, I don’t need anything else.”

“I know you don’t need it, but I want to do it.” He dropped a kiss on her cheek and reached for the half-full bottle of wine on the table in front of them. “Just think about it.”

And she did. She actually couldn’t stop thinking about it, even as they hugged everyone goodbye on their way out of the restaurant, even as they changed into pyjamas upon their arrival home. They sat on stools at the island counter, cups of tea accompanying thick, fudgey slices of cake, Hermione drinking from her new blue mug.

She had tried to protect herself from it. She had, countless times, tried to tell Ron that there was no point in making a fuss over it, that it was just another birthday and everyone had them so there was nothing special about hers. But yet everyone had been there, and they’d stayed late and George even had tried to coax her out to the pubs after, but she had resisted. Her kids had owled handmade presents all the way from Scotland.

“Ron,” she said, breaking the easy silence between them. He turned to look at her, licking chocolate frosting from his fork. “Have I ever told you about my tenth birthday?”

“Don’t think so,” he said. “You told me about your eighth, I think-“

“Oh, the biking trip,” Hermione recalled with a little chuckle. “Yeah, that didn’t go so well.”

“But tenth, I don’t think so.” He poked his fork into his slice of cake. “Why, what happened?”

“Nothing,” said Hermione truthfully, smiling at him. “It’s not important.”

[callunavulgari]

Year-In-Fic | 2019

How many fics did you write this year? What was your total wordcount?

This year I wrote 41 fics (technically 40 as the last was published today, but I wrote it in December so I’m counting it), for a total of 96,689 words. For even more interesting numbers, of that 96k, a little over 70k of them were written in the month of October alone, so I’m pretty proud of that.

Fic Roundup!

children of dust and ash | Bartimaeus |  Bartimaeus/Kitty(/Nathaniel) | 1,801 words |  Kitty summons Bartimaeus on a chilly fall day in her thirty-eighth year.

sweet music playing in the dark | DBH | 1,102 words | “I noticed some time ago that you seem to have an appreciation for jazz.”

Radio Ga Ga | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,143 words | There’s always another party in Hawkins, Indiana. It would be almost boring if it weren’t for Steve Harrington.

Sunlight | Marvel | Loki/Thor | 765 words | They aren’t quite out of the solar system when Loki appears at the arm of Thor’s chair, hair shorn short and a furious snarl on his face.

like the bough of a willow tree | Detroit Become Human | Hank/Connor | 1,214 words | There’s a human lost in his woods.

knocking on heaven’s door | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,748 words | “Just, get in the fucking car. I’ll drive you home.” Billy looked at him, very seriously, and said, “What if I don’t want to go home?”

no more dreaming like a ghost | KH | Axel/Roxas | 813 words | He is in the kitchen, the stove top still warm under his thighs, and everything smells of cherries. The pie is cooling on the windowsill, the sun slanting in warm and buttery, and it is like a dream. A memory. A wish.

Cheers | DBH | Hankcon | 6,368 words | “Are you coming in or not?”Connor blinks, jerks his eyes up and away from those hands and-The bartender has blue eyes. They match the spinning LED at his temple perfectly.

bury a friend (try to wake up) | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,587 words | Steve digs up Billy’s body on a Tuesday.

won’t be too soon ‘til I say… goodnight moon | KH | Riku/Sora | 4,549 words |  The house was built in the fall of 1882.

you’ll never know what hit you | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 5,379 words | “C’mon, ghost,” Shane urges. “Make all my dreams come true. Fuck me up, fam.”

make this chaos count | EOS 10 | Ryan/Akmazian | 724 words | “You really should stop looking for me,” Akmazian tells him, fingers creeping across Ryan’s ribcage, mapping the architecture of his ribs.

eat you up whole | The Witcher | Geralt/Regis | 2,527 words | “How many mouthfuls do you think I could take from you before it had some effect?” Regis whispers, lips against his throat. Geralt can feel the pinprick of fangs. “Four? Six? Ten? More, even?”

forget the horror here | DBH | Hankcon | 4,390 words | “Hello,” the android says, it’s chest heaving, the gleam of its heart brighter, bluer than before.

summoning demons (and other bad first date ideas) | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 3,868 words | “If I let you out of that circle,” Ryan says, slowly. “Are you going to eat me?”

Itch | The Magnus Archives | Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims | 1,440 words | The boneturner takes from him two ribs - one for him and one for Jon.

the salt water sting | Dishonored | Corvo/Outsider | 2,163 words |  The ship wrecks several hundred miles off of the coast of Karnaca.

a skeleton of something more | SGA | Rodney/John | 3,072 words | “John?” he murmurs, still coasting on the pain. His head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, if cotton were also made of glass.

in the woods somewhere | Teen Wolf | Derek/Stiles | 4,570 words | Stiles buys a house in Virginia.

Wake Up | The Magnus Archives | Martin/Jon | 550 words | “If you wake up,” Martin tells him, experimentally. “I won’t go through with it. You can tell me what a stupid idea it was, and we can laugh about it, and everything will be normal.”

Pas de Deux | KH | Axel/Roxas | 506 words | Roxas doesn’t remember what the sky looks like anymore.

try to wake up | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,226 words | They do not, in fact, bone down and praise Satan.

too late to come on home | LoZ | Gen | 1,391 words | “You look familiar,” the boy says in his strange, haunting voice. “Are you lost?”

patron saint of the lost causes | Harry Potter | Draco/Harry | 4,203 words | “Can’t you just, y’know,” he waves a hand and makes an obscene gesture, his cheeks flaring red. “Shag it out?”

wouldn’t you like to see something strange? | Teen Wolf | Sterek | 1,571 words | “I’d say you make my heart pound, but well…” Stiles nods meaningfully to his chest, where if you look hard enough between the slots of his ribs, you can see the lump of muscle that once was his heart, pointedly not beating. “You know.”

the night is softly, sweetly calling | Teen Wolf | Sterek | 2,938 words | Here’s the thing that Stiles never tells the Hales: his mother was strange too.

Haunt | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 1,486 words |  Ryan couldn’t remember a time when the world didn’t believe in ghosts.

bite my tongue, bide my time | PJO | Nico/Percy(/Annabeth) | 1,376 words | “What’s wrong with you?” Nico asks, cowering when Percy places a gentle kiss on his collarbone.

Bird Song | Raven Cycle | Ronan/Adam, Gen | 1,445 words | On a dreary Sunday in early January, Ronan dreams himself a pair of wings.

kiss me hard until you’re done | Star Wars | Reylo | 3,082 words | He looks up at her from under heavy lids, dark hair sweeping forward to frame his face. “May I have this dance?”

beauty in the dissonance | Marvel | Tony/Loki | 1,411 words |  When Tony dies, it isn’t for forever.

like real people do | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 2,808 words |  “I’ve got the sight, man,” he says with a small shrug. “And look, I feel for you. You’re dead and I’m not, and that sucks, but unless you’re planning on doing something about it, I’d really appreciate it if you could stop feeling me up and let me get back to sleep.”

i’d rather drown in your ocean | Naruto | Itachi/Shisui | 1,630 words |  The Uchihas are an odd sort. Everyone says so.

catch your breath | The Bright Sessions | Mark/Damien/Sam | 2,588 words | Mark had never assumed in a million years that he would ever see Damien again. He hadn’t factored in zombies.

Nightmare | The Magnus Archives | Martin/Jonathan | 1,424 words | “All right,” he says, taking Jon’s still outstretched hand. “Let’s give the dream what it wants.”

dreaming of the crash | Gravity Falls | Mabel & Dipper | 484 words | When the end of the world comes, they’re under the bed.

don’t we love it now? | Kingdom Hearts | Sora/Riku/Kairi | 1,784 words |  When Kairi is eleven years old, she gets lost in the woods.

all this, and love too, will ruin us | Star Wars | Reylo | 1,102 words |  Rey is awake to watch the sunrise

open the walls, play with your dolls | Coraline | Coraline/Wybie | 2,886 words | Halloween at the Pink Palace is a lot like any other time of year.

in every golden trace | Queen’s Thief | Costis/Eugenides/Irene | 4,645 words |  For as long as Costis can remember, he’s had two names scored across the skin atop his ribs, one on either side of his rib cage, nearly perfect mirrors to one another.

a different kind of danger in the daylight | Shades of Magic | Lila/Kell/Holland | 6,930 words | Sleeping with Holland was never part of the plan. 

Best story I wrote this year: Probably the night is softly, sweetly calling. I wrote this for the 18th of October, and it’s the much awaited third part of a Teen Wolf/Addams Family fusion that I wrote back in 2014. A lot of people have asked me to continue this series over the years, but I never did because I felt my writing style had changed too much and then I fell out of the Teen Wolf fandom completely. But I’d written another Teen Wolf fic a few days before (more on this later) and I was just... very nostalgic all of a sudden. My style of writing had changed, but to offset the change of tone, I wrote the story from Stiles’s POV instead of Derek’s and it made all the difference. I was pretty pleased with the result, and hope that it made everyone happy.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest. patron saint of the lost causes. There were a couple fics that I think I did a really good job writing this year, the one listed above and below included, but I think that this one was my favorite. Writing Drarry was a surreal experience, because even when I was in the Harry Potter fandom I didn’t really write for it (well, I didn’t publish what I’d written for it) and I was surprised by how easily it came to me. I tried to channel a lot of the feeling of men who had mothers when I was writing this one, because it seemed very right. 

Okay, NOW your most popular story. All right, so technically my stats are all messed up this year because when I posted the third part of the Addams/Teen Wolf fusion, I also posted a chapter to Que Sera, Sera since so many people were subscribed to that story. So. From a purely stats standpoint, Que Sera, Sera was the most popular because it has a total of 25,790 hits, 2973 kudos, and 115 comments. BUT, I did not actually write anything new for that one so-

in the woods somewhere was the first fic I’d written for Teen Wolf since I wrote  take me to church in August of 2017. It has over 900 kudos and some 5000+ hits. When I decided to do Dark Month this year, I knew that I wanted to revisit some of my old fandoms, so Teen Wolf was always going to be a given. I wrote take me to church as a cathartic goodbye to the show, the fandom, and of course, Stiles and Derek. It was my soft epilogue for the boys.

in the woods somewhere has a very similar feel to it. It’s post-canon, obviously, and features Stiles buying a house in Virginia and Derek slowly working his way back into his life. It is also very much in the ‘soft epilogue’ genre, leaning heavily into the magical Stiles Stilinski trope while maintaining the FBI agent direction canon was leading us in. Also it has a lot of comfort things for me - judicious descriptions of food, a packed witchy cabin in the woods, and warm shower kisses. Story of mine most underappreciated by the universe, in my opinion: Possibly either won't be too soon 'til I say... goodnight moon or all this, and love too, will ruin us. The first of these two fics is almost 5k of spooky season Riku/Sora that was strongly inspired by Uzumaki-sama’s old fic Goodnight Moon. It was the second day of October and my prompts for the day were moon cycles, nightmare, cage, lookalike, mirrors, and glowing eyes, which was just asking for fic exploring doppelgangers and old haunted houses. I loved writing it, and maybe I should have expected it since Kingdom Hearts is such a quiet fandom nowadays, but it honestly stung that it didn’t get more attention.

The second of those fics was a Reylo fic (yes, yes, I know, it’s an awful ship, etc. etc.) that was very much written to be slow and melancholy and kind of surreal. Sometimes my smallest fics are my favorite, and I really liked this one. But alas, some things were not meant to be.

Most fun story to write: I had a whole lot of fun writing summoning demons (and other bad first date ideas). A lot of the fics I wrote this year, particularly during October, were really fun and easy to write. I missed writing every day. This one in particular though was about 4k of Ryan accidentally summoning Shane (the demon) while Shane was standing right next to him in his human suit. It let me play with a lot of body horror tropes that I don’t explore usually, and Buzzfeed Unsolved is a very fun, fresh fandom to dig around in. This is the second of the three (I think it was three, at least) fics that I wrote for the fandom during October and I had so much fun with it.

Story that could have been better? I don’t know about better, but Sunlight and Bird Song were both supposed to be significantly longer. I wrote Sunlight shortly after watching Endgame, and it was always going to be me working my way through my issues with that movie (Loki not really coming back, weird wonky time travel, Thor leaving his people after his whole arc was him learning how to be a good king) but I got distracted and had to go somewhere that day and just never got back to it.

Bird Song is actually a fic I’ve been meaning to write for years. Ages ago (and we are truly talking ages ago, like September 2015 ages ago), @kaikamahine gave me a prompt for E, 17, and hymnal, which basically balanced out to Ronan, churches, and wings. So day 20 of October was going to be Raven Cycle (with such prompts as stacked deck, darkness, wings, and fight fire with fire, it was begging for it) and I was finally going to write Ronan wingfic. It was going to be great. There was going to be Calla and Ronan interaction and found family themes and there was going to be a church, because obviously, but then I wasn’t doing so well and ran out of time, SO. Definitely could have been better.

Story I wrote to fix things: beauty in the dissonance, the 24th fic of October, was a Tony/Loki flavored story where both Tony and Loki are, in fact, alive. Sunlight was written as a direct response to Endgame, even if it was never finished properly. make this chaos count was the 4th day of October, and written because I’m still not fucking over Ryan and Akmazian. And then knocking on heaven’s door was written just after viewing s3 of Stranger Things. It was uh, less of a fix it fic and more a wallow in your grief fic, but it still applies.

Oh, and a different kind of danger in the daylight was technically fix it fic? I’m generally okay with how Shades of Magic ended, despite my favorite character dying because it came off as a good death. However, the recipient of my Yuletide gift wanted no character death and I wanted to write something post-canon, so presto, fix it fic.

Longest completed fic this year: a different kind of danger in the daylight, followed by Cheers. Both are hovering between 6 and 7k, which isn’t technically long, but since about 90% of my fic this year was written over the course of a day each... I’ll take it.

Fandom you enjoyed writing for most this year: I had a lot of fun with Buzzfeed Unsolved and The Magnus Archives, but I also had fun dipping briefly back into Harry Potter and Teen Wolf.

Favorite character you wrote this year: I had way, way too much fun writing Geralt and Regis in eat you up whole. I have literally no idea if it translated into good fic, but it was fun and just shy of porny and I just really like Geralt. I also had a lot of fun writing Lila in the Shades of Magic fic.

Most memorable comment(s) this year: I got two comments from @kaikamahine about a week ago that honestly made my day. @faorism reread one of my older Stranger Things fics and left a comment, which made me reread it, which was just very good. Every single comment I got on the new Teen Wolf fics with some variation of ‘missed you’ or ‘so glad you’re back’ made me fucking melt. The two different comments where the reader wasn’t even familiar with the material, just read and enjoyed because I wrote it. The comment on one of my Stranger Things fics that just reads, “What the FUCK this SLAPPED.” The comment directly above that one that is from one of my favorite writers in the fandom. The several comments on the single PJO fic I wrote this year which were different variations of “oh my gosh it’s you” and “it’s been so long.”

And of course everyone losing their collective shit over some of the grosser October fics. Namely Itch.

Fics you wanted to write but didn’t: For the most part, the fics I wanted to write but didn’t are the same as last year- Sabriel AU, Enjolras/Grantaire fic, found family Dishonored fic, bodyswappying Reylo, Sterek Bioshock and Carmilla AUs which I am likely to post as is sometime next year. 

I still want to finish the Castlevania OT3 fic, the giant canon-divergent Bright Sessions AU where years after the series ends, Mark ends up running into Damien again in a small town in the middle of nowhere only to realize that he has a daughter, a farm, a life, and is just so drawn to it that he keeps coming back. I have the Wolf 359 post-canon fic where everyone has feelings and found family is a general theme and maybe Eiffel smooches an AI. I also have the smuttier Wolf 359 fic that’s been lurking in the back of my head for months where Eiffel and Kepler er, basically eiffel tower Jacobi.

Oh, and I have the Reylo fic where Rey (and Ben, through the bond) sit through General Organa’s funeral and keep coming back to each other afterwards. And that Final Fantasy 15 fic where Dino and Noctis do the nasty. And the Hera & Jacobi fic from October. And uh, the post episode 9 fic that’s been lurking about in my brain.

Oddest story: Probably i’d rather drown in your ocean? It was pretty spot on aesthetically for me, but it was weird to write Itachi and Shisui again, especially in a strange modern day vampire context? Also Itch and Nightmare were both Magnus Archive fics that were super gross (Itch) and just plain spooky and bizarre (Nightmare) but they were so fun to write. Hardest story to do: Cheers gave me some trouble initially but got a lot easier as I went on. I hit writer’s block pretty bad with the Shades of Magic fic too, but that seems to be what happens when I come up on deadlines. Easiest story to write? Most of October’s fics were a blast to write and super easy besides. Basically all of the Kingdom Hearts, Stranger Things, and Teen Wolf fic. And the Buzzfeed Unsolved.

Most mining of your own history in one story: Probably either  open the walls, play with your dolls or no more dreaming like a ghost. Not in any way that really matters, but there are a couple familiar details.

Themes, or absence thereof: Mostly either spooky scary things or fix it fics. Sometimes both.

Where did you publish/archive your stories? Ao3, as per usual. Story I haven’t yet written, but intend to: The only thing that I currently have planned is the post episode 9 fic and a couple things that I’ve had planned for a while that may or may not come out.

Sexiest moment (excerpt): “How many mouthfuls do you think I could take from you before it had some effect?” Regis whispers, lips against his throat. Geralt can feel the pinprick of fangs. “Four? Six? Ten? More, even?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Geralt murmurs, and Regis laughs.

“I would,” he agrees.

“So, why don’t you find out instead of boring me with all the details?”

Regis pulls away from his throat, far enough that Geralt can meet his eyes again. He swallows at what he finds there. Amusement, yes, but also hunger, brighter than the moonlight reflecting in his eyes.

“A taste, first, I think,” Regis says in a low, cool voice, and then closes the space between them.

Geralt had forgotten the blood on his lip, but he remembers it when Regis catches him in an open-mouthed kiss. It’s wet and bruising, and Geralt is responding before he remembers he shouldn’t, fighting back the only way he knows how with the rest of him indisposed. He claws at him, bites at him, and the vampire laughs when Geralt catches his plump lower lip between his teeth and bites down. Regis gives his mouth one last darting swipe of the tongue before he is pulling away.

There’s a flare of color high on Regis’s cheeks and his ears are distinctly more pointed than they were five minutes ago, the sclera of his eyes gone red.

“Can’t say I’ve ever been bitten by a human before,” Regis tells him, leaning close like he’s divulging a secret. “It’s a rather exhilarating experience.”

“I’m all for a repeat experience,” Geralt quips, eyes narrowed. “Lean in just a little and we can see if I can manage to tear off your lips before you rip out my throat.”

.

“Please,” she whispers, and feels herself quiver like a taut bowstring when he touches her mouth gently, with the very tips of his fingers.

He smiles and leads her away, through the demons and goblins and fae that she came here to kill.

They make it as far as the parking lot before he is hitching her up the side of a gleaming Mercedes, hooking her legs around his shoulders, and hiking her skirts up over her thighs so he can duck his head beneath them. His fingers linger for a moment on the silver of the knives strapped securely to her thigh, and then he is reaching in, guiding her underwear to the side and getting his mouth on her, right where she wants it.

She must make some kind of noise, because he chuckles, tongue circling her clit in a slow, languid way that makes her think that he is savoring her, that he likes the taste of her on his tongue.And he must, because she knows what he is. Knows that just as he’s savoring the taste of her, he is eating her, feeding off of her want like the things that she hunts in the dark feed off of blood and marrow and souls. She knows, but it isn’t enough to stop her from tilting her head back, gasping for him, the distant wink of streetlights and stars so far away.

He makes her come with his mouth on her, with his fingers inside her, and even as she’s shaking around him, she knows that it isn’t enough. She wants more, wants to feel the heavy press of him inside around, wants to kiss his lips and taste herself on his tongue.

“Please,” she says, her thighs shaking, and he laughs, pulling away and easing her down, until her legs are looped around his waist instead of her shoulders. He reaches between them, and she knows what’s happening beneath her skirts, knows that he’s getting his cock out of his pants and pressing it against her, can feel it as he sinks slowly into her, the tight fit of it so sweet, so perfect that it makes her ache.

“You’re lovely,” he whispers, kissing her shoulders and fucking into her slow, a teasing stretch that makes her mouth water, makes her twitch.

.

“Is this what you wanted?” Hank jeers, one finger circling the rim of Connor’s hole. There’s a flush of angry blue across his cheeks. His hair is coming loose from its usually immaculate tail, curling against his forehead. His eyes are blue. His LED is not. “To lay back and take it? From a fucking machine?”

Connor whines, back arching as Hank dips the tip of his thumb inside, just enough to hold him open.

“That is it, isn’t it?” Hanks says softly. There’s a touch of triumph to his gaze as he fucks Connor open on his thumb. Something mean, too. Disdain, slowly unfurling in the curve of his lips. He shakes his head. “All this time, coming to this bar. Talking to me like you thought I was some kind of human, and you just wanted something like me to hold you up and take you apart.”

“No,” Connor gasps, but can’t help the twist of his hips when Hank adds another finger.

“No?” Hank says with a laugh. “Look at you.”

Connor’s cock jerks against his belly as Hank drags his pants the rest of the way down his thighs. They make it as far as his knees before they tangle, stuck on his shoes. His cheeks feel hot, and he- god, he wants to protest. Wants to say that Hank’s got it all wrong, that this is more. That he’s more.

But then Hank is flipping him over, until the arm of the couch is digging firmly into his belly, his ass high in the air. Hank pulls his fingers out, then leans over and spits, the cool slippery slide of the saliva trailing down the curve of his ass.

“All right, Connor,” he says. “This what you want? I’ll give it to you.”

No, Connor should say. It isn’t like that.

Instead, he says, “Please.”

Crackiest moment (excerpt):

“Did you just sneak into my house?” Stiles breathes, absurdly charmed.

Derek’s in his human disguise, everything dangerous about him hidden away from view, lurking just under the surface. He gives Stiles a look, and says, “Don’t be weird about it.”

He shuts the door behind him.

“I’ve got a nice monster knocking on my door just before the witching hour,” Stiles tells him playfully, making room for Derek to take a seat next to him. “How am I not supposed to be weird about that?”

Derek does something akin to rolling his eyes, the flames doing a little shimmy around the circumference of his eye sockets. He leans back against Stiles’s headboard, seemingly unconcerned that their sides are pressed together. Derek’s skin is very warm, human warm, and Stiles is all bones. He sucks up the warmth greedily.

“I’d say you make my heart pound, but well…” Stiles nods meaningfully to his chest, where if you look hard enough between the slots of his ribs, you can see the lump of muscle that once was his heart, pointedly not beating. “You know.”

.

“What’s the local legend about this thing?” Shane asks, hopping up onto the throne easily and spreading out, eyes on the night sky. He looks good. He always looks good, but Ryan likes him best like this, out here with the moonlight shining down on them and the camera catching all his best angles.

As Ryan watches, he blinks, and turns to look at Ryan, puzzled. “Ryan?”

Ryan clears his throat. “The locals say that if you make a wish while sitting on her throne, the witch will grant it.”

Shane gives him a wicked smile and hums a few bars of Genie in a Bottle. Ryan chokes out a laugh, crossing the space between them until he’s leaning up against the side of the throne himself.

Shane closes his eyes. “I wish, I wish with all my might, please dear god, let there be ghosts here this night.”

Ryan holds his breath.

“C’mon, ghost,” Shane urges. “Make all my dreams come true. Fuck me up, fam.”

All around them, the world is still.

Shane cracks an eye open and squints at him. “Did it work?”

.

“Jon?” someone asks, and Jon blinks.

Martin is standing before him. He’s wearing something out of another time, a costume of silken breeches with a well-cut waistcoat of a rich, opalescent blue. There’s a puffy cravat hugging his neck, and polished buckled shoes on his feet. Jon almost expects him to be wearing a wig, but his hair is the one thing that’s been left untouched, hanging loose around his chin.

“Martin?” Jon asks.

Martin seems to take him in, his eyes running slowly down Jon’s body, lingering at his wrists, his waist, his thighs. It’s a bold sort of move, one that Martin would never be half so blatant about if he were awake.

“You, er. Look nice,” Martin says, and Jon glances down at himself.

He’s sure that moments ago he’d been wearing the same thing he’d worn to the office, shabby coat, mostly clean shirt, a pair of nondescript trousers that didn’t have any stains. But now, he finds himself in a dress. The gown is long and brilliantly red, the skirts heavy around his thighs. There are embroidered patterns reminiscent of roses along the bodice and down the front of his petticoat.

“Well, shit,” he mutters, still staring. Experimentally, he moves his hips, and finds that the skirts swish obligingly with the movement.

“Yes, well,” Martin murmurs, cheeks flushing horribly. “You always did look rather good in red.”

“In red-” Jon repeats in horror. “Martin, I’m in a gown.”

Favorite dialogue (excerpt):

“Are you ever going to stop looking for me?” Akmazian asks him one night.

Ryan is tired. Akmazian is a shadowed figure in the dark that he tries not to look at too closely, because if he does, Akmazian will be gone.

“Maybe,” Ryan tells him, and turns over onto his side. Away from the shadow, the ghost.

The bed dips under the weight of a person who isn’t really there, and Ryan can feel Akmazian’s breath on the back of his neck, warm and damp.

“Don’t touch me,” Ryan says, and means, I don't want this to end yet.

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, darlin',” Akmazian murmurs back, then drags his lips over the back of his neck anyway, just to be contrary. Ryan swallows, his throat dry, tongue thick in his mouth. He clenches his fingers in the sheets, eyes squeezed so tightly shut that his vision stains red behind his eyelids.

“Please,” Ryan says.

“You really should stop looking for me,” Akmazian tells him, fingers creeping across Ryan’s ribcage, mapping the architecture of his ribs.

“I know.”

“You’re never going to find me.”

Ryan laughs. “Never say never.”

There is silence behind him and then, “Ryan. Please. You’re hurting yourself.”

Ryan trembles a little when a hand lands on his hip, just this side of too solid.

“Don’t care.”

“You’re hurting the stars.”

Ryan is silent for a moment. Then, “I just miss you.”

A sigh.

“I know,” Akmazian murmurs, and leans over to place a kiss on Ryan’s forehead. “I miss you too.”

Ryan opens his eyes, turns to look, and like always, Akmazian is gone.

.

“Look,” Potter says, audibly slurring. “I’ve had an idea.”

Draco crosses his arms. “And what, pray tell, is this idea of yours, Potter?”

Potter leans forward, using a hand to prop himself up, until he’s well into Draco’s personal space. He smells like beer and whiskey, and his cheeks and jaw are more beard than stubble.

“Break your curse with me,” he breathes, a hand settling atop Draco’s blanket-clad knee.

Draco swallows. “I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

“No, look,” Potter says, leaning in even closer, eyes a bit wild. “We can just… you know.”

“No, Potter,” Draco tells him. “I don’t know.”

But he does. He really does.

“You know,” Potter says again. “Shag it out.”

“I think that you’re confusing things again,” Draco says tiredly. He sets the book on the nightstand next to him. “Remember the terms of the curse? Love, Potter. Not sex.”

Potter’s nose wrinkles. “But sex is part of love. Usually, anyway. It’ll work, I know it.”

“It won’t,” Draco insists, slapping Potter’s hand away when it begins to wander up his thigh. “Do you really think that I didn’t shag my wife before she left me? Because I did. We tried for years. Years, Potter. Trust me, if the curse were going to break because of a fuck, it would have happened well before now.”

Potter blinks at him, his eyes wide. There’s a ruddy flush on his cheeks, and Draco’s not sure if he likes it.

“We could at least try,” Potter says, almost gently. He doesn’t touch Draco again, but he looks like he wants to, hand trembling where it lays on the bedspread.

It feels like there’s glass in Draco’s throat. He is so, so tempted. Here is what he wanted - or at least part of it - Potter in his bed begging to fuck him, and he’s going to have to send him away.

“I think you should leave,” he tells him, and Potter’s mouth shuts with a click.

Favorite lines (excerpt):

“Relax,” he croons, stroking her fingers before he pulls away. “Your secret is safe with me. Most of this crowd knows that I’m not on speaking terms with that side of my family. They won’t suspect you because of me.”

Her face is flushed, either from rage or humiliation. Possibly both.

“So you-”

“Yes,” he says, fingers dropping to caress the fabric of her gown, swirling a thumb around the sweeping petals of an embroidered rose. His gaze is sly, a bit predatory when he glances back up at her. “I know what you have under this pretty skirt of yours.”

Rey’s breath catches, and she feels something- a slow trickle of heat seeping in to pool around her navel. She shifts, thighs sliding together, and hopes that he can’t smell her.

“Just as I know exactly what you’re doing right now,” she tells him in a hard whisper, jerking away from his grip on her elbow.

His eyes widen, affecting a look of innocence - a ‘who me?’ - that isn’t quite as effective when his lips are also curling up into a slow, pleased smirk.

“And what exactly am I doing?” he asks, his eyes laughing at her.

She glares at him. That seems to be enough of a reply, because he chuckles before taking possession of her arm again and pulling her smoothly towards the dance floor. Once they’ve reached the edge of it, he stops, dropping her elbow in favor of dipping into a low, courtly bow.

He looks up at her from under heavy lids, his hair sweeping forward to frame his face. “May I have this dance?”

The dance floor is crowded, full to the brim of masked people sweeping by in jewel-bright dresses and dark suits. She knows not to - knows that this place is a lot like fae courts of old. You don’t eat the food, you don’t drink the wine, and you definitely don’t dance.

But she’s already drank the wine, so she might as well dance.

.

The ship wrecks several hundred miles off of the coast of Karnaca. The storm that ends them is a rare sort, fiercer than most, a huge bank of dark clouds that seems to come from the void itself, blooming on the horizon like a warning. The lightning cracks the world asunder, thunder deafening, but it's the wind and waves that will always be a ship’s downfall.

Corvo watched the wave approach, saw its frothing white caps and the way it had stretched, higher and higher, until it loomed over the ship.

They never had a chance, and by the time the wave came crashing down, Corvo was already holding his breath.

Much of what he remembers after are mere snippets: the gulping suck of the water around him, broken pieces of the ship spinning by along with those of the crew who were unlucky enough to be caught by the ship’s pull, sucked down into the void, devoured by the whale god himself. He remembers his first gasp of air once he’d surfaced, the tang of brine and salt heavy on his tongue as wave after wave battered his body.

He doesn’t think that most of the crew survived the first few minutes much less the whole night, and he is certainly alone when the sun blossoms on the horizon hours later, clinging to a piece of ship the size of his torso and kicking relentlessly towards the dawn.

Corvo grew up on the coast, his hair stiff with salt from the ocean breeze. He grew up in and out of the water, hauling cargo or gutting fish on the docks. He’s familiar with the ocean - how the pull of the tides work, which days its best to avoid the dock, how to escape the sea’s wrath when a riptide or an undercurrent tries its damndest to drown you.

So he knows that his chances of making it to land are slim. But Corvo has always been stubborn, his legs have always been strong, and his story is far from finished.

.

Stiles buys a house in Virginia. It’s a modest thing close to Quantico, but not too close, tucked away into the heart of the wooded Appalachians. The bones of the house is all stonework and sturdy dark wood, a rickety wraparound porch bracketing the house on all sides. The first thing that he’d bought for it were two overpriced rocking chairs he’d gotten from the nearest Cracker Barrel.

Over the course of a year, he fills the house with things. A soft, dark gray sofa. Several solid end tables. A pair of emerald lamps he gets from an antique shop. A moss-green throw that is warm as a hug when it’s wrapped around his shoulders in the dead of winter. His living room is a bit too mountain man chic, but he likes the way that it looks when he’s coming home from a long day at the academy, warm and inviting.

He gets his bed set from a woodworker a couple dozen miles down the road, a man with a gruff bristled gray face and a warm smile, who trades Stiles the custom set for some warding and a couple bottles of what he calls, ‘miracle elixir.’ The set is sturdy mahogany, a pair of wolves carved across the top of the curving headboard, runes filling the gaps between them. The chest of drawers and dresser are just as solid, and Stiles has to hire movers to help him get everything back to the house.

The bulky rednecks decked out in worn flannel that help him with it carefully avoid looking at the runes of the headboard, their eyes skittering away from the carvings like frightened rabbits. They exchange apprehensive looks when they see the herbs drying over the sink in his kitchen, but to their credit, stay quiet and hightail it out of the place when he pays them. Here in the Appalachian backwoods, no one talks about magic, but everyone knows it exists.

Stiles has people over every once in a while - flies his dad and Scott in from California, has Lydia drive down from Boston, or Kira from North Carolina - but mostly, he’s alone. It’s a strange thing to get used to, the silence of the nights out here, where the night sky is bright and clear enough to see the stars above him, not a hint of light pollution to be seen, and the trees rustling in a quiet wind is almost louder than the hoots and hollers of the local wildlife.

He’d thought it would be lonely, and to be fair, sometimes it is.

Some nights he comes home and collapses back onto his sofa, and would do anything to be right down the road from Scott and Melissa and his dad again. He has days where he craves Melissa’s pozole or his dad’s meatloaf so badly that he can taste the heat of it on his tongue.

But mostly, the quiet is nice.

He cooks himself soups that simmer in the slow cooker while he’s at the academy and roasts that he makes on the weekends. He experiments with food the way he never used to back in Beacon Hills, where he had his dad’s heart to worry about if he made anything, and fast food which was easier to grab when he didn’t. He takes a world tour through his kitchen - homemade pierogi, hearty paella, steaming pirozhki, spicy-smelling curries, and hand rolled sushi. The first time that he makes his own bread in the ancient oven that came with the house, the smell of it coming fresh out of the oven is so good that he nearly cries.

It’s three winters into living there before he hears a scratching at his door in the middle of the night, and when he goes to investigate, finds a large black wolf on his doorstep.

It’s favoring one of its paws, dark fur matted on one side of its head where he can dimly make out a sluggishly bleeding gash. It blinks at him, eyes glowing a bright, familiar blue, and Stiles spends a minute watching it before he smiles and steps aside.

Fic goals: Hey Heather, it was only 800 words, but you did technically write something original. Now, let’s do something original that’s a little longer. And while we’re at it, let’s do something novel length. 

[pandemonshq]

Welcome, Zelda, please grab your stake on your way to your tumblr to play Hermione Granger-Weasley here at Pandemons. We loved how you decided to take us up on make this your own by giving Hermione a new role as Head Healer of the Janus Thickery Ward in Saint Mungos. We can’t wait to see how Hermione deals with the new strangeness building in the magical world and all the past (and present!) relationships she can build here.

OOC

Name: zelda

Preferred Pronouns: she/her

Age: 26

Timezone: est

Activity Level:

I’m usually pretty active, especially with the times right now, I spend a few hours on a day and can usually be found lurking every now and then too. I’m a very free person and when I join a group I am very dedicated.

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

Character’s Name: Hermione Jean Ganger-Weasley

Bloodstatus: Muggleborn

Birthday: 19 September, 1979 ( 40 years old )

Gender and Sexuality: cis female & pansexual

Every where she looked Hermione always saw a man and a woman, there was never anything different and when something out of the ordinary came about she didn’t know what to think. For the longest time she always thought that love was supposed to between a man and a woman, it’s what she was raised to believe. But the older she got it didn’t matter the gender of your significant other so long as you were happy in the end. Hermione doesn’t find herself attracted to whether someone is male or female. In fact Hermione is more attracted to someone’s intelligence and personality over what body parts they have. Hermione is seen as someone who is pansexual.

Former Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Infection:

no

Faceclaim:

Older Candice Patton with younger Zendaya Coleman

SHORT HEADCANON TOPICS (PLEASE PROVIDE AT LEAST ONE PARAGRAPH PER TOPIC)

Occupation (title and one paragraph explanation): Head Healer of the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungos

Ever since she started at Hogwarts Hermione had always thought about fighting the good fight to free magical creatures and letting them have the chance to live lives. She always wanted to make a change in the wizarding world and she was determined to. She first started with S.P.E.W. a movement to free house elves and give them a free life. When she returned for her seventh year and finished Hogwarts she wasted no time in getting a job at the ministry and worked on her plan. She tried for years to get bills passed but nothing would happen.

She couldn’t make a difference when people didn’t want to try. She felt defeated and knew that she couldn’t continue on like this so she left the Ministry and went to train as a healer. It wasn’t long before Hermione soon discovered that she really enjoyed the work. She enjoyed mixing the potions and helping people when they needed it. She discovered that she excelled in this profession and she didn’t want to do anything but. Over the years she raised in the ranks and before she knew it she was the head healer of the Janus Thickey Ward, the ward that deals with permanent spell damage, such as permanent jinxes, hexes, and incorrectly-applied spells.

Marital Status/Ships: Married to Ron Weasley

When it comes to Ron Weasley, Hermione can remember their first meeting clear as day. She always thought of him as the frumpy boy who didn’t know how to take care of himself. Yet over the years as they grew closer as best friends she soon realized that her feelings weren’t just those of friendship. She found him loyal and caring and could always be there for a good laugh if needed. She found his personality that attractable and she loved it, plus it did help that his eyes always held a slight air of mischief to them. But all in all he was her best friend, companion and husband all in one. He was someone she could always lean on and talk to about everything. He was always there for her when she needed him. Even when he left on their hunt she knew that she could never forget him no matter how angry she was. He is her person as much as Harry is.

Ships: When it comes to shipping I do ship Ron & Hermione but at the same time I do have a few crackships that have stolen my heart. But I am open to other things and exploring her sexuality and what could of happened and what could of been. I’m not here to force something on someone, so long as the chemistry is there then lets go! If anyone is every curious about anything message me and we’ll plot.

MULTIPARAGRAPH OR MULTI POINT TOPICS

Family:

Being raised in a family of muggles Hermione did kind of feel a bit left out, especially when her parents put a bit more attention into their work than they did learning about her life. She always knew she didn’t fit in the muggle world, she just wasn’t normal enough. When she found out she was a witch that only pushed her further away from her family. When she erased the memories of her parents she knew it was for the right cause but at the same time she felt a small pang of loss enter her. She vowed to return their memories when everything was safe, yet when she went off to look for them she couldn’t bring herself to take them from the happy life they created. She just couldn’t ruin them again. So she left them and moved on with her life, she never told anyone that she didn’t reverse it in fact she never told anyone that she set out to find them.

Childhood/Hogwarts:  anorexic tw

Growing up Hermione as a bit frightened when she discovered that she that she could make things move. When she wanted a cookie and her mother said no? Well Hermione made it float on over. Things didn’t start making sense for Hermione until a man named Professor Dumbledore came along and explained everything. She was ecstatic to learn that she wasn’t abnormal but in fact very normal. She was a witch and everything that was happening was supposed to happen.

When she arrived at Hogwarts, like every other child she could only stare in awe at the beauty. The little bookworm had truly found her home at last or so she thought. She wasn’t welcomed very much due to her blood status and her know-it-all attitude. In fact it wasn’t until Harry and Ron saved her from the Troll that she truly made real friends. Over the years she became very close with the two of them, they were three peas in a pod.

As the years flew by she knew that dark times were coming and she refused to let Harry go through it all alone. She knew that if she didn’t lend a hand that he could end up dead somewhere. She refused to lose two of the most important people in her life. She was a very strong and hard headed girl that took charge when things looked dark. She was always quick on her feet and knew exactly what to do before someone else could form a thought.

When Harry stated that he was going on the hunt Hermione knew in a split second that she would go with him. He was her best friend and she refused to let him go alone. She was brave but also over thought a lot, there were even times when she would let her thoughts get ahead of her and she couldn’t think straight. It wasn’t until the trio were caught and taken to Malfoy Manor that Hermione knew her time was coming to an end.

She never expected to make it out alive from Malfoy Manor, she expected to bleed out on their perfect floors. She expected Bellatrix to torture her until her mind was a puddle of goo and hand her over to Greyback so he could have his fun. She never expected for Harry and Ron to break out and save her in the end. She never expected her boys to bring her to safety at shell cottage. All in all that would be a night that would leave Hermione scarred physically, emotionally and mentally.

She never expected for herself and her peers to go through a war that would tear their innocence away and leave them all tortured and scarred. She didn’t expect for them all to suffer and lose so much. Yet with the end of it all it brought a sort of peace to them. A sense of peace to the wizarding world. Something that she could hold on to and actually see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Post Hogwarts:

After everything Hermione was not okay. She was the furthest thing from being okay. There were many nights that Hermione would wake up screaming and crying due to terrors she had gone through. There were times that she’d lay in bed sobbing for those that lost their lives far too soon. There were times that Hermione would stay up for hours worrying that someone would break in. She constantly slept with her wand gripped tightly in her hand. There were even times that Hermione would go a couple of days with absolutely zero sleep, sometimes to the point where someone would have to shove a sleeping potion down her throat so she could get some sleep.

Along with this Hermione also has a very hard time eating, with being on the run for so long Hermione learned that she needed very little food to survive and focused on drinking lots of water. At family meals in the burrow she would find it very hard to eat a full plate of food. Sometimes the smell of the food would make her stomach churn. There were times that she could eat a few biscuits and be done. Other times she could eat a few bites and that would be it. It took Hermione a good year until she was able to get her eating habits back to normal. She was almost to the point of being anorexic

Hermione also suffers from PTSD and has a very hard time letting herself be touched by others. There are only two people that can lay a hand on her shoulder her without her knowing and she wouldn’t jump one bit, Harry and Ron. She has gained a bit of trust issues from everything that has happened and tries to work on it but at the same time it’s hard for her and she can’t bring herself around.

Current:

Hermione is far better today than what she was. She has turned her life around and is the head healer of a department at St. Mungos. She has found peace in her life and has come to terms with a lot of things. With the help of the Weasley family and Harry, Hermione has been able to overcome so much.

Though there are still times when the terrors will plague her dreams some taking the form of Bellatrix the other’s taking the form of Voldemort himself. All in all Hermione will always have trouble getting the proper amount of sleep and can’t stop her worrying and constant protection. Even in this very moment she will continue to strengthen the wards placed around her home, wards so strong that only those invited can get through.

With what’s stirring up now Hermione can’t shake the feeling that something bad will happen. It’s bring back old feelings about the first war she went through and she hopes that nothing ends the same. That the children of today don’t go through what they did. That they do not lose their innocence as quickly as Hermione and her friends did.

Plots

The Past - I would love to explore threads of the past, get a chance to dive a bit deeper into Hermione’s character and what she was like in Hogwarts. To see what friends she could of had or enemies because that’s always fun to play out.

Relationships - I feel like Hermione wasn’t so strict about studies and that she would of had a bit of adventure every now and then. I feel like she would of explored a bit and dated some. That she would of dated some and let her self live a bit more than what we saw. Also maybe we can even figure something out for current time and maybe she has affections for someone that’s not her husband or maybe someone is brought into their relationship. It’s all exciting to explore.

Occupation - I would love for her to either have co-workers that she can interact with and form friendships with or maybe even patients that she had for long periods of time that she grew close with. Ouu or maybe even an enemy that she had to tolerate due to her job.

Family - Family is very important to Hermione and I would love to explore the bonds she has with each remaining Weasley member and the bond she has with Harry. I feel like there’s so much that can be touched on that wasn’t and we can make it all such a beautiful thing.

OTHER

Submitting this from my mockblog a pinterest inspo can be found here - https://www.pinterest.ca/zeldaslegends/brightest-witch-of-her-age-hermione/

[jamesmydeer]

hello love! can i request 92 with sirius please?

No Sleep Till New Year x Sirius Black

thank you for the request! sorry if you don’t like beastie boys, but their debut album is easily one of my favorites and came out at a convenient time for me to write about :)) as always, feedback: appreciated.

xoxo

masterlist

92. “ Are you drunk? “

Y/n had never been a party person. Not even in her school years had she enjoyed the rambunctious affairs that would take place in her common room. Although this has evoked much teasing from her friends, she thought that they would someday grow out of the party scene themselves. Maybe she didn’t know her friends too well.

“Of course I’ll watch Harry, Lils. No, not a burden at all. I’ll be at your’s in a few. Love you too. Bye,” y/n said, putting the phone back on the receiver. She chuckled lightly to herself. Of course they were going to a party to celebrate the new year. It agitated her a bit that she hadn’t called earlier. She wondered what Lily would’ve done if she had plans. But, there was no one she would rather have at her side at the start of the new year than her sweet godson that she loved dearly.

Y/n showed up at the Potter’s house at around 7 o’clock. She was immediately overwhelmed with the smell of Lily’s perfume. She could hear James’ voice coming from the kitchen. She walked to the doorway and saw Harry giggling up at his father, who was dancing to the music that was playing from Harry’s toy boom box.

Harry’s eyes eventually met the ones of his godmother, and he went to run up and hug her, but she quickly put her finger to her lips and pointed at James. She smirked, walking up behind him and imitating his dance moves. James, too in the moment to notice, thought that Harry was really eating his dance moves up. James went to do a spin move and was surprised to see y/n standing behind him, doing the same dance he had just been doing. He shook his head, a small smile creeping up his face.

“How long have you been here?”

“Maybe five minutes.”

“So you haven’t been laughing at me?” James asked Harry, a pout forming on his face. Harry made a thin line with his lips, solemnly shaking his head.

“Sorry, aunt y/n was being funnier.”

James’ jaw dropped and his hand flew to his chest in mock offense. Once Harry started to chuckle again, James turned around abruptly, throwing a glance over his shoulder, winking at his son. He turned back to y/n, kissing her in the cheek.

“Thank you so much for watching the twerp,” he said, making sure the ‘twerp’ came out louder than the rest of his sentence. Harry scoffed behind him, muttering a “hey”.

“I’m going to go alert the wife that you’re here,” he stated, turning and running up the stairs. Y/n shook her head and smiled softly at the man who hadn’t changed over the past 9 years they had been out of school for. Her head quickly jerked forward when two small arms wrapped around her and squeezed her. She smiled, laying her head on top of his and picking him up, spinning around with him in her arms. He laughed loudly, stumbling around a little when she let him down. Harry looked up at her with a mischievous grin on his face.

“Did you bring it?” he asked looking around to see if he could find what he was looking for. Of course y/n had brought it. They had talked about it last time she had been over, both of them knowing she would inevitably be the one to watch him on December 31st.

“Did I bring what?” she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, looking down at the boy as if she was completely oblivious. Harry tilted his head to the side, unamused. He glanced at the couch and saw her bag. He looked back up at y/n and smiled, before running to the couch and fumbling through her bag.

“Careful Har Bear, records break easily you know?” she teased the eager boy. Harry pulled his hands out of her bag and brought them behind his back, smiling down towards the ground bashfully. Y/n reached down and started tickling the young boy. He was laughing and squirming vigorously.

“Say it,” y/n stated, not going to stop until she made her godson surrender.

“Never!”

“Say it!”

“No-ah!” He tried to get out, his own involuntary shriek cutting him off.

“Say it or I’m not stopping.”

“Uncle!”

“M’not your uncle.” She grinned down at the boy.

“Aunt! Aunt, aunt, aunt!” Harry yelled, out of breath.

“Don’t think that’s very fair, y/n.” an amused voice said from the doorway. “Uncle is the universal term for ‘I give up’. Can’t just go switching the rules up on my boy like that.” James stated, a smiling Lily behind him.

“Well don’t you two look lovely,” y/n quipped, taking in the couple’s appearance. She had always thought they looked good together; they were both very attractive people.

“Why thank you, y/n,” lily smiled, walking over to hug her. “We should be back no later than two, but if something were to happen, we’ll let you know,” she said, kissing her son’s forehead.

“You two behave. I don’t want another call from Mrs. Bagshot saying it sounds like pots and pans banging together all up and down the street,” James smirked, causing y/n to look down at Harry and roll your eyes.

“I have to repeat myself everytime I talk to her. Beastie Boys are loud, but they’re not that loud dad,” Harry stated, earning a stern look from his mother and a proud smile from his father. The six year old’s taste in music had always impressed y/n. He was very grown up for his age, obviously talking after his mother and herself.

“We shall return,” James said, performing his and Harry’s handshake and kissing the top of his head.

“No boys.” James stated, throwing you a wink. Him and his son both started to sing their rendition of ‘Y/n and Sirius sitting in a tree’. She still wasn’t sure how they all knew about her crush. They always just said it was obvious. It was just a silly crush though, y/n knew it was not realistic. A silly crush that had lasted for close to ten years.

The couple then walked out of the door, throwing out one last “behave” before shutting it.

Harry turned to his godmother, tapping his foot eagerly. Her heart swelled as he reminded her so much of the marauders. They always wanted to listen to whatever records she had in her dorm, quickly becoming obsessed with the artist for a week, before moving swiftly on to another. This is exactly how Harry was.

“Which one first?” she asked, already knowing the answer. She pulled out Licensed to Ill and started walking toward the turntable. Harry opened his mouth, but quickly shut it seeing that y/n had already read his mind.

He started to jump around as the first song, Rhymin and Stealin’, rang throughout the house.

“This is gonna be a long night,” Y/n thought before joining Harry in his dancing escapade.

—————————————————————

Y/n thought that Harry would want to listen to the record two times tops, then switch over to some of his other favorites. She had tried to put on Rubber Soul, but Harry just wasn’t having it.

It was now 10:40, and Harry was out cold. He had fallen asleep on the couch while she had gotten up to fix him some milk, hoping it might coax him into sleep. When she returned, she smiled down at the boy, reaching out for a blanket and pulling it over him. She sat down in hopes of herself being able to go to sleep too. She started to drift off, until she was jostled awake by the start of Fight For Your Right. She huffed, abruptly standing and trudging over to turn the record player off alltogether. She was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Contemplating whether she should turn off the music or open the door first, she chose the latter. Tiptoeing towards the door in hopes of not waking Harry, her intentions were in vain when she opened the door to a very handsome, very plastered friend of hers.

“‘Ello love. What’re yah doin here?” he asked, a genuine smile forming on his face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes had a layer of gloss covering them. She smiled amusingly at him.

“Fawn-sitting. Are you drunk?” she asked, obviously knowing the answer to her question.

Sirius laughed at the first part, only to straighten up and look at her in an attempt to tell her he was, in fact, not drunk. She raised her eyebrows at him, letting him know that she knew he was indeed wasted.

“A little. Where’s H?

“Sleeping, and I’d like for it to stay that way.,” she quipped, throwing him a playfully stern look. It seemed as though he was going to retort, but he quickly looked towards the living room with a curious expression on his face. His eyes landed on the source of the music he was hearing, and he walked clumsily towards it.

“What is that?”

“Music.”

“S’not what I *hiccup* meant.” he said, laughing at himself a little.

She chuckled and walked to stand beside him.

“They’re called the Beastie Boys. They’re rappers from New York.”

“Thought your didn’t like rap music?” he teased, knowing that anytime James had tried to make y/n listen to any MC’s, she would promptly walk out of the room.

“I don’t, but I like them. They’ve got good instrumentals they rap over.”

Sirius nodded at that, sitting down on the arm of the chair she had almost fallen asleep in earlier. She sat down beside him, noticing him still staring at the record. She took this time to look at him. She couldn’t remember a time she had truly looked at him since school. He was still handsome. He had cut his hair since school, deciding that it ‘got in the way while he was driving’. His eyes had grown to retrieve the playful gleam that they had lost during the time of the war. He had decided the moment the war ended that he was going to litter his body with ink. Y/n could see some peeking through the sleeve of his shirt. As she glanced back up at his face, she wondered why he was here on a night like this.

“Why aren’t you out with the rest of ‘em?” she asked, fiddling with her shirt.

“Not much of a partier.” he said, looking at her with a melancholy expression on his face.

“We both know that’s a lie. I’ve never known Sirius Black to miss out on a party, especially when he gets a guaranteed kiss at midnight.” she said, her heart aching a bit at the truth of the statement.

“Maybe the one I want to kiss wasn’t at the party.”

He stared into her eyes. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her. She shifted under his heated stare, letting her eyes trail to the clock. 2 minutes til midnight. She pushed his prior statement to the back of her mind and stood up to turn off the record, which was now softly playing Hold It Now, Hit It, and turned on the radio.

“You know I used to think you were odd in school. What with the not partying and all. I get it now though. S’not very practical now.” Sirius said, looking at her with a soft smile on his face. He shifted his head to look up at the ceiling. “You know I was telling the truth. You’re the only person I want to kiss. Always have been. Just never thought you wanted to kiss me back. Know now though. Moony told me. Good lad. He said-“

“Sirius, your rambling.” she said, trying to dismiss the fact that he knew she indeed wanted to kiss him back.

“Please kiss me” he pleaded.

“Sirius you’re drunk.” she said, earning a bored face from Sirius.

“Y/n you’re sober. Kiss me.” He hoped she would say yes more than anything. However, he knew that as long as he was drunk, he wouldn’t get a kiss.

“How about this, when you wake up in the morning, if you still want to kiss me, then go for it.”

Sirius pouted at her. He sprawled his body across her legs, head resting on the other arm of the chair. As the voices on the radio started counting down, Sirius’ puppy dog eyes grew sadder. As the new year began, y/n leaned down and pecked Sirius on the cheek.

“You’re cute Pads, you know that?” she said, smiling softly at the boy that was pouting up at her.

“It just so happens I do. Now get up.” he stated matter-of-factly.

“What?”

“Get up. It’s time we play some real music.”

Y/n scoffed at him.

“Mom you’re just jealous it’s the Beastie Boys,” she muttered to herself. Sirius casted her a strange look, causing her to shake your head and look towards Harry’s room, where Sirius had moved him to sleep soundly and ‘not wake up with a bad back’. She wished he was awake to understand her reference.

—————————————————————

Remus, James, and Lily all entered the Potter home at 3 o’clock. The two men were just about as drunk as Sirius, Lily having to lead them through the door. She told Remus to stay put as she helped her husband up the stairs. As the couple rounded the corner, Remus made his way into the living room. His eyes went big when he saw his two best friends asleep cuddled up together on a chair that was far too small for them.

“Remus what are you- oh merlin.” Lily stated, jaw dropping at the sight before her.

“What? What? I wanna see!” James announced, squeezing inbetween both of them. He glanced around the room in search of what they were looking at. When his eyes landed on his child’s godparents, he quickly understood the ‘oh merlin’ statement.

“What the hell? Thought I said no boys.” he said a bit too loudly, promptly waking up the sleeping couple. Y/n’s eyes fluttered open and landed on the group standing before her with smirks on their face. She blushed and nudged her face into Sirius’ chest. He looked down at her and smiled fondly. He ran a hand through her hair, glancing up at his disturbers unamusedly.

“Don’t you guys knock?” he quipped.

“Not on my own door, no. Where’s my son?”

“His bed.”

With that, the couple turned to go check on him, seemingly not believing the pair.

Y/n chuckled and attempted to go back to sleeping in Sirius’ arms. He placed two fingers under her chin, coaxing her face towards his. They were centimeters apart. Y/n could feel Sirius’ breath on her face. A blush started to creep its way up her neck.

“It’s morning.” Sirius said, a cocky smirk on his face. He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers, looking down to see if it was alright. She looked back up at him and chuckled, bringing a hand to the back of his head and pulled him back in. The kiss was short and sweet, but it was enough to leave them a giggling mess, their foreheads pressed together.

As James stood next to Remus in the doorway, he threw a confused glance towards him, then towards the two, giggling like school girls.

“Allow me to reiterate. What the hell?”

[padfootagain]

I can't believe I reached 3k followers!!! Thank you all so much!! When I started this blog, I hoped to reach 100 followers one day, and now here we are!

So to thank you all and mark the date, I'm making a little event! The theme is simple : movies!

What is it all about?

Under the cut are a list of prompts and scenes from different movies. You can choose between two different things that you would like me to write:

-        You can choose between 1 and 5 prompts along with a character and I will write a one-shot based on these prompts for the character you have chosen

-        You can choose one scene in the list and a character, and I will re-write that scene for the character you have chosen

A few rules to follow if you want to send a request.

-        If you request for the prompts :

- You can request up to 5 prompts, not more

- You can add a few details that you would like to be featured in your request if you have precise ideas

 -        If you request a scene :

- I will write a one-shot that is inspired by that scene, not the exact same scene (obviously, otherwise, where is the fun?). The idea is to get the same spirit and some references, or the same situation, but not a simple copy.

- These scenes will require me to turn AU!, so don't be surprised.

- You can request only one scene, so choose wisely ;)

- I will most likely 'erase'  the characters who were in the original scenes, so don't be surprised.

 No matter if you request for prompts or for a scene :

- You can request for any character on my masterlist, no matter if I've already written for them or not.

- I have no trouble with anons, if you're a little shy. So don't hesitate to send a request on anon if you feel more comfortable this way.

- Please, send me your request through my askbox and not in a PM. It's much easier for me to manage, and I might forget about your request if you send it to me privately. If you're shy, send an ask on anon.

- Sadly, I will probably not be able to write all the requests that are sent my way. I will write as many as I can, but I'm only human. I'm sorry if I don't get to write your request. But I invite you to send it anyway, because I might write your request! If you don't send it, then you can be sure that I won't though. Again, I'm sorry if I can't write all the requests I receive, but I usually get too many to be able to write them all.

 Requests for this event will be up for one week, which means until January 14!

Considering how well this event works, I may change that date along the way.

Thank you all again and I hope you like this event :D

Prompts :

Every prompt is a movie quote. The movie it comes from is written under the quote in italic

 1. "Was that a joke?"

"What if it was?"

"I don't like jokes!"

"I don't like you!'

Kuch Kuch Hota Hai

 2. "Why, you stuck up, half-witted, scruffy-looking, nerf-herder!"

Star Wars : The Empire Strikes Back

 3. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

 4. "Well… my philosophy is that worrying means you suffer twice."

Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them

 5. "A heart's a heavy burden."

Howl's Moving Castle

 6. "You're far away, where are you?"

"In a world that's disappearing, I'm afraid."

The Sound Of Music

 7. "No, I'm not mad. I… I'm hurt, and disappointed and… and mad."

Funny Face

 8. "I'm always gonna love you."

"I'm always gonna love you too."

La La Land

 9. "I'll just take my ego for a walk…"

An Affair To Remember

 11. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Would you like to stay forever?"

Mulan

 12. "At midnight, I'll turn into a pumpkin and drive away in my glass slipper. And that will be the end of the fairytale."

Roman Holiday

 13. "Strange, isn't it? Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around, he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?"

It's A Wonderful Life

 14. "Whatever crimes I commit against you, remember, I have diplomatic immunity in 46 countries. Including Puerto Rico."

The Princess Diaries : Royal Engagement

 15. "Anything can happen if you let it."

Mary Poppins

 16. "Life is suffering. It is hard. The world is cursed. But still you find reasons to keep on living."

Princess Mononoke

 17. "Everything is possible. Even the impossible."

Mary Poppins Returns

 18. "Love isn't a thinking thing. It's a feeling thing."

Playing It Cool

 19. "That is one big pile of shit."

Jurassic Park

 20. "I love you."

"I know."

Star Wars : The Empire Strikes Back.

 21. "Sadness, anger, hate… we were not allowed to express anything. So no, how do we express love?"

Dear Zindagi

 22. "Carpe Diem. Seize the day, boys. Make your lives extraordinary."

Dead Poets Society

 23. “Always believe in yourself. Do this and no matter where you are, you will have nothing to fear.”

The Cat Returns

 24. "I'll probably lose my citizenship for that."

Mission Impossible III

 25. "Oh, don't waste my time with flattery."

"Not to seem rude, but I wasn't actually talking to you."

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe.

 26. "But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass."

The Lord Of The Rings: The Two Towers

 27. " I guess we need to register you as a lethal weapon."

Lethal Weapon

 28. "Just because it is, doesn't mean it should be."

Australia

 29. "It does not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

 30. "A lot of people are in love… but none can love like me, because they don't have you."

Kal Ho Naa Ho

 31. "Just follow your heart. And keep smiling."

Kiki's delivery service

 32. "That look in your eyes is a pain in my arse, you know that, right?"

Mission Impossible III

 33. "Can we take a flight back to reality, or do we have to change planes in Denver?"

The Santa Clause

 34. "Yippie-Ki-Yay, motherfucker."

Die Hard

 35. "I retire for like five minutes and it all goes to shit."

The Avengers

 36. "Would you like to know the probability of her using it against you? It's high."

"Let's get going."

"It's very high…"

Star Wars : Rogue One

 37. "I'm too old for this."

Lethal Weapon

 38. "Oh yes, the past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it or learn from it."

The Lion King

 39. "Now, think of the happiest things. It's the same as having wings."

Peter Pan

 40. "I'm in love with you."

"So what?"

"So what? So plenty! I love you! You belong to me!"

"No. People don't belong to people."

Breakfast at Tiffany's

 41. "It's called Karma. And it's pronounced 'Ha! '"

Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again

 42. "Whoa, lady, I only speak two languages: English and bad English."

The Fifth Element

 43. "You were my new dream."

Tangled

 44. "Any question?"

"Yeah. Could we get a cappuccino machine in here? Cause I don't know how you call this."

Mission Impossible

 45. "I'm not used to people sticking around when things go bad."

"Welcome home."

Star Wars : Rogue One

 45. "Stop, you'll kill them!"

"That's the idea!"

The Mummy

 46. "Probably best not to tell anyone about this."

"Right, no one. I mean, I'll tell myself sometimes but don't worry, I won't believe it."

Notting Hill

 47. "Once you've met someone, you never really forget them."

Spirited Away

 48. "I hit my head on something."

"Yeah, my head!"

Balto

 49. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Are you okay to drive? A minute ago, you were dead."

"What are you talking about?"

"This is not going to end well."

Mission Impossible : Rogue Nation

 50. "I've got a bad feeling about this…"

Star Wars

 51. "A little consideration, a little thought for others, makes all the difference."

Winnie The Pooh

 52. "If she loves you then she will turn around and look at you... turn around... turn around!"

Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge

 53. "Can I stay for a while?"

"Stay forever."

Notting Hill

 54. "Promise me one thing: don't take me home until I'm drunk - very drunk indeed."

Breakfast at Tiffany's

 55. "This California dew is a little heavier than usual tonight."

"Really? From where I stand the sun is shining all over the place."

Singin' In The Rain

 56. "You need to stop carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders."

Spider-Man: Homecoming

 57. "Who ever said the human race was logical?"

Star Trek IV : The Voyage Home

 58. "Blow up the car."

"Oh, it's such a nice car…"

"And yet, do it."

Mission Impossible III

 59. "Why complicate things that are really quite simple?"

Mary Poppins

 60. "Who are you?"

"Your worst nightmare."

Mulan

 61. "You said 'whoopsidaisies'."

"I don't think so. No one says 'whoopsidaisies', do they? Unless they're…"

"There is no 'unless'. No one has said 'whoopsidaisies' for fifty years and even then it was only little girls with blonde ringlets."

Notting Hill

 62. "I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore."

The Wizard Of Oz

 63. "Are you out of your corn-fed mind?!"

Star Trek : Into Darkness

 64. "You're a good man, with a good heart. And it's hard for a good man to be king."

Black Panther

 65. "It is mine to give to whom I will. Like my heart."

The Lord of the Rings : The Fellowship of the Ring

 66. "There's no place like home…"

The Wizard Of Oz

 67. "I'm with you till the end of the line"

Captain America : First Avenger

 68. "You deserve better than this. You deserve people who value you. You deserve to go somewhere where you can be proud of who you are."

The Shape Of Water

 69. "No matter how many weapons you have, no matter how great your technology might be, the world cannot live without love."

Castle In The Sky

 70. "There is nothing more reassuring than realizing that the world is crazier than you are."

Thor: The Dark World

 71. "I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone."

The Lord of the Rings : The Fellowship of the Ring

 72. "I love her."

"Does she love you?"

" I don't know now. Yesterday, you weren't alive."

"Well, I apologize for not being dead in a ditch."

"I don't think I can accept your apology."

"Is that a joke?"

"Yes, yes, sort of. I'm not... I've never been very good at jokes."

Salmon Fishing In The Yemen

 73. "English, motherfucker, do you speak it?"

Pulp Fiction

 Scenes :

The links to the scenes on youtube are set in the titles of the movies, so it can be easier for you to choose. I'll re-write the scene entirely so you and the character of your choice can live it ;) It can be set either in the universe of the character you have chosen or the universe of the original scene depending on the scene you choose.

 1. Indiana Jones : Raiders Of The Lost Ark

You are so close to finding this lost treasure. Bad for you that you have fallen in a cave filled with deathly traps.

 2. Jurassic Park

You thought you would enjoy a nice weekend discovering an amazing scientific breakthrough. Now, here you are, hiding from a T-Rex and wondering how you got yourself in this situation…

 3. The Shop Around The Corner / You've Got Mail

You have a date with someone tonight, but you don't know who. All you know is that you are to meet in that café. All turns crazy when your date is actually this colleague of yours whom you hate… kinda…

 4. L'Arnacoeur

Your family engaged him/her to seduce you, so you would break your engagement with this guy they hate. Bad luck that for once, he/she falls for you too…

 5. Love Affair / An Affair To Remember / Sleepless In Seattle

It's love at first sight. But perhaps the two of you are getting ahead of yourselves. You give each other a bit of time to think, and set up to meet at the top of the Empire State Building, if in six months, you still feel the same for each other. But will you both be there?

 6. The Chronicles Of Narnia: Prince Caspian

The only way to win this war is to earn more time. And a fight one on one with your enemy is the best way you can come up with. But who will survive the fight? Will it be enough?

 7. The Lord Of The Rings : The Fellowship Of The Ring

You are trapped in Moria. A Balrog chasing after you. This looks pretty bad… yep… that's bad…

 8. Roman Holiday

You are a princess in your country, but for one day, you have managed to escape your duties, and you are now roaming through the streets of Roma. A stranger helps you through the streets of the city and you spend a magical day…

 9. The Holiday

You have exchanged your house for the holiday with a woman in England. You expected a quiet week, but that was before you would meet the woman's brother…

 10. The Lake House

Through your mail box, you somehow receive letters from the man who used to live in your house 5 years ago. Through the letters you exchange, you slowly start to develop feelings for each other. Until one day you decide to meet, and set up a date. But he never comes. You realize that he didn't come because he had died during these five years that separated the two of you. But you may have one last chance to save him…

[pluckyredhead]

Daredevil 101: The Nifty (Late) Nineties

Last time on Daredevil 101, Matt had yet another nervous breakdown, and Foggy finally found out, after 30 years of canon, that his best friend was Daredevil.

Now, with Matt having un-faked his death, he, Foggy, and Karen are free to settle into a new status quo - and it’s a refreshingly light-hearted one! Honestly, I would say this is the peppiest Daredevil ever is - there’s less melodramatic thought-bubbling than the Silver Age, and no undercurrent of severe depression like in the Waid run. It’s just sheer, pleasant fun.

In fact, it’s basically a romcom, with wacky misunderstandings and lots of workplace shenanigans thrown in. Which, considering we’re talking 1996-1998, is right on schedule.

Over the next three posts we’ll be covering Daredevil Volume 1 #353-375, mostly by the creative teams of Karl Kesel/Cary Nord and Joe Kelly/Gene Colan (the latter of whom also drew much of Silver Age Daredevil, aw).

Content Warning: Reading between the lines, emotional abuse by a parent.

We begin with Matt deciding that the best way to announce his return to the world is to stroll into the courtroom during one of Foggy’s cases and just start arguing it alongside him, creating a media circus. Foggy’s...less than thrilled:

How on earth would he know you’re really blind, Matt? You never a) explained anything or b) apologized, you literally just jumped out the window and ran away.

Anyway, they don’t have time to go into it (and Matt gets to skip out of apologizing again) because they get a shocking message:

1. Foggy, you are a fashion icon, never change.

2. How does he know Rosalind Sharpe? And why is he so agitated at the prospect of meeting with her???

Meanwhile, Karen's trying to find her own direction in life:

Matt’s always been pretty careless and jovial about Karen selling out his secret identity - he has literally never tasked her with or blamed her for it - but it weighs on Karen. Also, I don’t blame Karen for not being sure what job to take, since her last two were “handing out anti-porn pamphlets on a street corner” and “running a drug addiction hotline,” both of which are noble causes but neither of which seemed to come with a salary.

Side note: this haircut is very dated but it is my 100% favorite Karen haircut of all time. So kicky! So fresh! So Monica Gellar circa Season 2! I love it.

Meanwhile, Matt’s gone back to “swashbuckling banter-er” when it comes to fighting crime:

I mean, Matt’s jokes are stupid, but that’s part of the point. At least he didn’t say “Talk to the hand” or “Don’t have a cow, man.”

Later, he and Foggy meet with Rosalind, and she offers them both junior partnerships in her firm. Foggy instantly, gleefully accepts, but Matt’s more reluctant:

So yeah, Rosalind is a stone cold bitch, and I don’t use that word lightly. I think she’s a fascinating character but not because she’s, like, not an awful person or anything. (For anyone reading this who doesn’t know why this is so awful: Rosalind is Foggy’s biological mom, though Matt and the reader don’t know that at this point. That’s why this means so much to Foggy.)

It’s also pretty baffling, because Rosalind declares Foggy “adequate” and Matt “astounding,” but Matt has been a) disbarred and b) declared dead twice, while Foggy is a former district attorney and legal counsel to both the Fantastic Four and Tony Stark around this point in time. The perceived wisdom about the characters up until Bendis takes over in a couple years is that Matt is a brilliant attorney and Foggy’s a fumbling buffoon, and both Kesel and Kelly steer hard into that curve, but not only does it not match what the characters actually do, it never made any sense from a character point of view. Why would Matt, The Greatest Lawyer Ever, saddle himself with an incompetent? And how could he run The Most Successful Law Firm In New York while dragging Foggy’s dead weight behind him when it’s canon that he barely ever has the time or emotional capacity to do legal work? I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS FOGGY NELSON SLANDER!

Anyway, Matt and Foggy take some time to hash it out (though Matt obviously doesn’t tell Foggy about Rosalind’s ultimatum), but it’s a tense discussion considering how hurt Foggy still is about the Daredevil thing:

“I can only say I’m sorry so many times, Foggy!” Maybe start with once? That’s a good number to begin at, Matthew. (This “UGH get OVER it” attitude continues for a while, btw, until Foggy finally stops bringing it up. Gee, I wonder where he learned to put up with such belittling dismissal from his loved ones?)

That’s Liz Osborn at the door - formerly Liz Allan, Spider-Man’s high school dream girl, now the widow of Harry Osborn, mother of his child Normie, and head of OsCorp. Foggy helped her with a legal matter recently and she’s come to, well...

Yeah, she’s there to ask him out. GET IT, GIRL. Liz knows what’s what. (Well, she does now. Not so much when she was 16, but then who among us did?)

Check out Foggy’s foreshadowing about Rosalind there in panel 2, btw.

Matt, meanwhile, realizes that he really does owe Foggy this after, you know, the lying to him forever thing, so he tells Rosalind he’s in, on one condition:

Yeah, so Rosalind wants to fuck her son’s best friend, right? That’s what’s happening here? I mean, I kind of get it - Cary Nord draws a hell of a Matt - but also Jesus Christ, no, Rose, keep it in your pants.

And so Nelson and Murdock becomes Sharpe, Nelson, and Murdock. Meanwhile, Karen is fully on board the Foggy/Liz train:

Matt, as usual, is deliberately obtuse/borderline resentful of the fact that Foggy might have other relationships. Oh, Matthew. I’m sure if you just tell Foggy you’re in a triad with him and Karen he’d be on board.

Hey look! It’s Misty!

(She’s the investigator for Rosalind’s firm. She’s also talking about Danny there, yes. They dated pretty consistently in the comics for like 40 years. They’re very cute. COMICS DANNY IS BETTER. Anyway I like it when she and Matt flirt.)

Oh and hey, while we’re here, let’s have the one-two punch of Nelson and Murdock in action. ONE: Matt, having badgered Foggy into defending a supervillain for convoluted Daredevil reasons, fails to show up in court:

Foggy, you are a sartorial wonder and a joy forever, I love you. (Seriously: KILLING. IT.)

TWO: Matt bursts in, either in costume or out, with evidence he’s just come into possession of that’ll blow this case wide open!

There you go, that’s every Daredevil trial scene ever except for the time Matt made Peter dress up as Daredevil so that he could cross-examine him.

Please note Rosalind cackling evilly back there, because she’s trying to get Foggy to throw Matt under the bus, because...she resorted to extortion to get Matt to join her firm and now she wants to ruin his reputation? Which will hurt hers to? Again, Rosalind’s so busy being calculating and cutthroat that her actions frequently don’t make any goddamn sense.

But this is also pretty much the moment that Foggy lets go of his resentment over Matt’s secret and re-pledges his troth, so I feel a lot of feels about it. Even if I would like to see Matt dangle a bit longer.

Meanwhile, Karen’s found a job, though she’s been a bit cagey about what it is with Matt. Why? Well, she’s a late night DJ/talk radio host...but for WFSK, which is owned by - you guessed it - Fisk. But she’s great at it!

This dialogue is 100% ridiculous but also 100% believable, can’t you just hear her cadence? If you’re old enough to remember this kind of thing, at least.

Rosalind has decided to turn Foggy’s friendship with Daredevil (who of course she doesn’t know is Matt) into a win for the firm by branding him as “Daredevil’s Pal,” so she calls in and puts a very startled Foggy on the phone so that he can talk about his relationship with Daredevil:

YOU GUYS. I’M CAN’T. <3 <3 <3

A few callers dial in with weird theories and questions (“What if he has weird bug eyes?” “Whatever happened to those funny little kids he used to hang out with?”), but then “Mike” from the Bronx calls to ask what Karen - I mean, “Paige Angel” - thinks of Daredevil:

Karen goes on to say that Daredevil’s saved her life, and she wouldn’t be the person she is without him. “Mike” replies that Daredevil must be blind...if he can’t see how lucky he is to have people like her in his corner. He adds that whoever Daredevil is, he’d probably be impressed that “Paige” is trying to do some good from the inside at a place like WFSK.

Karen, not being an idiot, recognizes Matt and is touched. And Matt, who’s just heard his two favorite people wax rhapsodic about how wonderful he is?

AWWWWW LOOK AT THIS HAPPY BOY! You enjoy it, buddy. You don’t get to have it too often.

Next up: Nelson family drama, and the return of two of Matt’s old flames!

[crimsonrevolt]

Congratulations Cassidy you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Orion Black!

↳ please refer to our character checklist

Seeing old members return is always a blessing! And I know that Orion’s been deeply missed, so we’re extremely happy to see him back and to be able to watch you explore him further! Especially in regards to everything that’s happened with the Death Eaters since you left, it’ll be interesting to watch Orion find his place in amongst them, or if he’ll still be able to. Welcome home Cassidy!

application beneath the cut

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

Cassidy, 23, she/her, Pacific Timezone, United States

ACTIVITY

6/10. I’m not in school anymore which allows me more time to write, but I’m still working 40+ hours a week. I’ll be able to get on at least once a day for a couple of hours to write replies.

TRIGGERS

*removed for privacy

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

Originally, I found CRT through the ‘marauder era rp’ tag…I think…something of that variation.

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

Hermione was always someone I looked up to as a kid. I was 12ish years old around the time I first started reading the books and by then there were at least a couple movies out. I was awkward and nerdy and just didn’t quite fit in anywhere. I guess that made me feel like Hermione and I were kind of alike, but the best part was watching her grow up and thinking “if she can do it so can i”. It sounds so embarrassing when I type it out, but oh well.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Nope, besides I missed the hell out of you guys!!!!

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

Orion Arcturus Black

FACE CLAIM

Jeffrey Dean Morgan

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

When I first joined, I had a hard time choosing between two or three characters, but every time I went back to Orion. I had never seen him in an RP before and if I had I don’t remember. In Harry Potter RPs, I always played a decently well known character, someone who already has an extensive backstory that is canon. We only know the basics when it comes to Orion; what kind of father he was (a shit one), he was Slytherin, very loyal to Voldemort, he’s got an older sister, and he married his second cousin. It’s not easy creating an entire life for a character while still remaining true to them, the rp, and to the HP series, but I love the challenge.

I also love the freedom it gives me as a writer and, to be honest, I’ve never been good at writing/roleplaying what is considered a good character. I’ve always played the bad guy, in different ways, but they’ve always been “bad”. What really made me fall in love with Orion is not the man he is today, but the boy he was before and the one he will be in the future.There is so much more to him than what meets the eye and I just want to tell his story while being apart of it. Even now, as I’m reapplying, and going through the other open characters just because, Orion is the only one I want. He’s my baby, haha.

Description/additional information:

Orion is a man who has always known his place in the world, where he stands and where he will stand. One of those roles is following in his father’s footsteps and making the House of Black proud by carrying on the heavy legacy across his shoulders and, at his insistence, his alone. The other role of his is being the Dark Lord’s loyal attack dog; he will do whatever it takes to make sure his Master wins this war. Orion received the dark mark in his twenties (24 to be exact, is that too early for Voldemort’s timeline? Idk, anyways) and has proved his allegiance time and time again.

He was born in the dark, but has always struggled with living in it. Growing up,  he was conflicted on who he wanted to be and who his family expected him to be. He so desperately wanted to run away from all of the expectations and responsibilities of being Orion Black, but was too afraid to ever do it. So he disobeyed his parents in his own little secretive ways; stealing that third years leather jacket, dating a half-blooded Ravenclaw, becoming friends with kids his parents would’ve never allowed if they knew. Hogwarts was his home away from home, where he could be himself if only a little. After graduating, Orion made the decision to forget whatever silly dreams he may of had (he can’t remember them now) and followed in his father’s footsteps. After all, we all have to grow up sometime. He got a job at the Ministry, married Walburga, and started a family.

By now, Orion is a seasoned killer and struggles with keeping his demons at bay. Sleep eludes him and his paranoia only gets worse as the days go by. All he has ever known is this fight and he can’t imagine what life would be like after the war, nor can he imagine what the world may look like once it ends. After his time as an Aversio prisoner, Orion is trying to picture what Voldemort’s vision will mean for their world after the war and he is having a harder and harder time accepting it, though he has yet to realize this is what he is feeling.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

Orion is a gentleman, but that often confuses him as a romantic which he is indeed not. He’s well-mannered just like any other high society wizard; just like how he was taught from a very young age and that is all. To him, romance, if anything, is just foreplay, the path to get into a woman’s pants.

Now when it comes to sex, Orion loves it. Even at the age of 49, he is like a 16 year old boy who can’t get enough of it. He wants to bang his wife, that young piece of ass sitting at the bar, and the secretary with the short skirts at the Ministry. He expects total submission, but loves a challenge. He gets off on the power struggle and it’s a rush for his ever growing ego.

Orion is male, straight, and uses the pronouns he/him.

Orion/Chemistry

Orion/Walburga

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

-A FEW HEADCANONS

Many believe Orion’s hatred for Sirius is because he willingly left the family and while that is true, it is not the whole truth. Like Sirius at his age, Orion dreamed about running away from the House of Black and creating a life of his own. One where he could make his own mistakes, make his own friends, create his own destiny. It is very clear Orion did not do this. It is very simple: Orion is jealous of his son for being able to do what he could not, though he would never admit it not even to himself.

In his mid 20s, Orion became an alcoholic not long after killing for the first time under Voldemort’s orders; it was a family of wizards, blood traitors. When in public he was able to hide his addiction well, being careful on how much he drank so he wouldn’t over do it especially at work. It helps he can also handle his alcohol very well. In the privacy of his own home, Orion did his best to keep it hidden from Regulus and Sirius, as Walburga already knew of the problem. But under his Death Eater mask, when Orion wasn’t Orion, he did not hold back. Blackouts and violent outbursts were very common when Orion drank enough and because of this he has been hospitalized three times. The last time was after he murdered a muggle family which made headlines in the muggle world. Voldemort gave him an ultimatum and he has been sober ever since. It’s been six years. The only time Orion has ever relapsed is when Sirius ran away.

Orion worked at the Ministry for nearly 30 years in the International Magical Office of Law as well as the International Confederation of Wizards. This position was particularly useful to Voldemort and Orion often used it to spread Death Eater and anti-muggle propaganda, all secretly of course. Before being captured by Aversio, it was well known that Orion was a purist and despised anyone who wasn’t pureblood, but it wasn’t known that he was a Death Eater. He retired in the fall of 1978, at the urging of Voldemort so Orion could fully dedicate himself to the cause.

As a Death Eater, Orion has given his life to the Dark Lord and has worked hard to make his army strong. In his younger days, Orion was one of the Death Eaters who interrogated and tortured their enemies. He was exceptionally good at breaking a persons mind, body and spirit, yet it unknowingly made his drinking worse and helped shape him into the man he is today; angry for no good reason, power hungry, and emotionally detached. These days Orion focuses on battle strategies, training/helping the younger Death Eaters, and completing specific missions from Voldemort himself. Sometimes, he is called upon to interrogate particularly hard cases.

As a student at Hogwarts, Orion focused on his studies to the point of mental and physical exhaustion in order to please his parents. Some days, it took all of his strength to get out of bed. Other days, it took all of his strength to not break down completely. When he wasn’t working on homework or studying, Orion played Quidditch as one of Slytherins beaters and was even team captain in his sixth and seventh years.

Orion escaped Aversio with no help, practically with his bare hands, and is finding it increasingly hard to suppress the resentment and bitterness he feels towards his fellow Death Eaters for leaving him to rot in his cell. They say they searched for him night and day, never giving up, but Orion wasn’t born yesterday and he finds it hard to believe. He has to ask himself; is it his paranoia or the cold, hard truth?

He never wanted to be Minister, not even as a child, but when Voldemort asked him to run Orion had no choice but to say yes. It was merely a show of power and strength after one of his best managed to get captured. Orion was relieved when it was announced he didn’t win, though he can’t help but feel like a disappointment for failing Lord Voldemort.

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it:

Orion would create the strongest, most powerful and universal defensive spell there is. He would be able to hide in plain sight with no fear of discovery or cast the spell on those of his choice to protect them as well. It wouldn’t just hide people though; houses, artifacts, scents, any trail that can be tracked the spell would get rid of it. What is a security spell if another wizard can disarm it? Orion would, of course, include a failsafe. If someone was trying to tamper with the spell Orion would create it so it would backfire on his enemies, which could mean anything. If the spell was protecting important documents (or something like that such as artifacts, etc) it would completely destroy them and also injure the person in question as well, possibly even capture them for interrogation.

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you:

His mind goes straight to Walden MacNair. Orion knows the man to get things done, to survive at all costs if it came to it, but he doesn’t exactly trust him. Joining Walden in the Forbidden Forest completely alone feels like Orion is slapping a big target on his back and saying “do your worst.” With that in mind, Orion would want Cassius Mulciber to be with him. He knows he wouldn’t have to worry about Cassius’ safety and that the young man would also have his back.

Orion would bring his broom with him for two reasons. One, he’s always wanted to fly around the Forbidden Forest and two, because if all else failed at least he’d be able to get the fuck out of there quickly.

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

Although it doesn’t seem like it, it’s hard for Orion to make decisions for his children, especially when they are hellbent on disobeying him. In the back of his mind, Orion is reminded of how his father directed him down a path that he did not chose himself. The little boy in him wants to see his kids make their own choices, their own mistakes, but for the sake of the Black family he cannot allow that.

The most difficult decisions for Orion to make usually involve his family. This would be a surprise to some, but it wasn’t easy for Orion to disown his first born son, not when he saw so much of himself in Sirius at that age.  

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you?

The one thing that Orion would never want said about himself is that he is disloyal to Voldemort and that he doesn’t believe in his Master’s beliefs. This is a fear of his, one that has been slowly growing larger over the past few months and taking over the deepest parts of his mind.

WRITING SAMPLE

The wooden door opened with a slow swing, bringing the cold air with. A man stood on the other side; fists clenched, hood up. His robes were soaked all the way through. He couldn’t of walked here, could he- a wizard like him? Two seconds passed and a few patrons noticed the shadowy figure who had yet to enter the building. Another two seconds and he had no choice, but to walk. Any longer and he would have drawn even more unwanted attention.

Mick, the bartender and owner, as always, was incredibly cool as he cleared the bar of used glasses. He didn’t falter or react the same way his customers and one other employee did. It was like he knew the man who was sitting down at his bar already. However, if his suspicions were correct, the man he knew wouldn’t have sat at the bar with his back exposed, but at his normal booth where all exits were visible and every customer was in plain sight.

Then again, it’s been nearly three years; a lot can change a man in that time.

“Your usual, Mr. Black?” Mick asked already turning his back to grab a bottle of rum off the top shelf. Upon hearing the name, the old man three seats down grabbed his dinner and found a table to occupy.

Orion nodded once as he pushed his hood down, “Thanks, Mick…Place looks good.”

“It’s got a few new nails and boards, but it’s still the same Double Barrel.”

Mick placed a napkin down then the glass holding three fingers of rum. He took another good look at Orion -tired eyes, permanent frown, hair falling forward- and wondered what happened to make such a powerful man weak enough to relapse. He walked away, knowing better than to linger when Orion Black looked the way he did…

There was a look in his eyes Orion had never seen before. Not just wild, but dangerous. Very few dared to look at Orion in such a way, fewer made it out uninjured. He should’ve seen it coming. All these years; the posters, the friends, the house- red and gold. Orion should’ve stopped it when he still could, crushed it with his giant fist and rebuild it in his eyes. Just like everything else he didn’t agree with in this world.

But Sirius Black was too far gone; it was in the way he squared his shoulders as Orion towered over him, how he spat ‘fuck you’ like he was speaking freely for the first time, and when he twisted his hands around Orion’s wrists as his father grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

Bloodshot, angry eyes reflected in the black, wet pools of the first born son. Orion could feel his nails digging into the palms of his hands through Sirius’ sweater, pulling his son even closer as he fought to get away.

“Get off of me!”

Orion’s voice was a hissed whisper, barely containing his rage.“You’re just going to leave? Throw all of this away and be like them- a blood traitor?”

Sirius stilled in Orion’s grip, a scowl lined his jaw, “Better them then your son.”

In one fluid movement, Orion released his son and pushed him backwards with purpose. Shove after shove, shout after shout, until Sirius was backed against the front door of Grimmauld Place, nearly tripping over his packed bag before he could pick it up.

Orion stood tall, stoic, and looked down at the young man who was no longer his son.

He felt nothing. The axe had already swung.

“If you leave, you may never come back. You will no longer be a Black, no longer our son, no longer a brother.”

Seconds felt like hours until Sirius finally opened his mouth and-

“Another, Mr. Black?”

Orion blinked -once, twice- and looked up at bartender he hadn’t seen in three years, “What?”

Mick was already pouring the top shelf rum, “Would you like a refill, Mr. Black?”

The only wizard sitting at the bar nodded with bloodshot, no longer angry eyes. He watched as the rum poured down into his glass, the light reflecting it in such a way it was almost beautiful. Watching the amber liquid swirl and pool. It was simple. It was comforting. Orion closed his eyes as he drank the entire contents again, only opening them after he heard Mick fill up his drink a third time.

He raised the glass again, but before he could touch it to his lips Orion caught his reflection in the lukewarm rum. The sight of himself made Orion want to puke. It made him want to scream. To cry. To fight…to run. Run after what he wasn’t sure. Maybe after his first born son.

Maybe Orion wanted to run just to run; just because he could, just because he wanted to.

Instead, he slapped some gold onto the worn oak of the bar, bought the whole damn bottle, and went home long after his world went dark.

[1dreality]

It must have been well over a year ago now, when Liam Payne realised he had absolutely nothing interesting to say. The singer, known to most as ‘Liam from One Direction’ until the group’s indefinite hiatus in January 2016, had returned to the studio, settled into the idea of being a solo artist for the rest of his days, and promptly drawn a blank. He was, he says, just too darned happy to think of anything.

Everything in his life had fallen into place. He’d found love, moving in with Cheryl (formerly Cole), a fellow junior royal of the Top 40. Their first child, a son named Bear, was well on the way. He had signed a huge record deal with Capitol. He felt fitter and healthier than he had in years. And, yes, there’s no denying it: he was pretty pleased that he no longer had to be in the biggest boyband in the world.

‘I had a bit of a problem formulating what was going on in my brain into the music at first,’ he says, ‘because I was so content with everything in my personal life. It’s easy to spill your guts out on a ballad. But I was thinking, “Oh God, I’m really happy – what am I going to write about?!”’

More than 12 months on, the answer to that question still isn’t entirely clear. Payne’s debut album, as yet untitled, won’t be released until early 2018. There have been two singles, though, with a third, the unsubtly titled Bedroom Floor, arriving next month.

Of those we’ve heard, the first, Strip That Down, a R&B-inflected club hit released in May and co-written with Ed Sheeran, marked a departure from One Direction’s stadium pop-rock. It was also chock-full of hoary by-the-way-I’m-an-adult-now signposts: there are references to nightclubs, drinking rum and coke, driving Ferraris and having girls ‘grind’ on him. And mixed in with all that were lyrics that caused a minor stir among his acolytes: ‘You know I used to be in 1D, now I’m out, free / people want me for one thing, that’s not me’. Payne, it seems, is keen to reintroduce himself.

‘When I left the band, I felt a bit stranded,’ he says, when we meet in an enormous boardroom at his management’s offices. ‘It took time, but I know as an artist I am starting fresh now.’ He slaps the table with melodrama. ‘This is Moment One. It’s the start line.’

Liam Payne is 24 years old. He is athletically built, as anyone who has seen his shirtless Instagram posts will know, and kind of everyday handsome, in a Love Island, former-youth-footballer way. Both his arms and hands are almost entirely upholstered in tattoos, highlights of which include some thick black arrows on one forearm that look like road markings; the number ‘4’, in reference to One Direction’s 2014 album of the same name, on his ring finger; and, on his left arm, a scale depiction of Cheryl’s eye, that appears to follow you around the room as he gesticulates. ‘It’s so my missus can always keep an eye on me,’ he likes to say about that one.

He is impossibly nice. Before we meet, he plods through the office, saying hello to everybody in the building individually, and in most cases remembering something about them: that they beat him at Fifa last time he dropped by, so they must have a rematch before he leaves (‘I’ll whoop ya with West Brom!’), or they’ve surely had a haircut, haven’t they? (‘It looks really great anyway, man!’). It is the manner of somebody both impeccably raised and intensely keen for people to like him, and it appears genuine and successful.

To an extent, Payne says, the five members of One Direction – or four, after Zayn Malik left the band in 2015 – ended up playing characters over the six years they were together. Whereas the Beatles (arguably the only other group with a comparable scale and speed of world domination), grew increasingly cantankerous towards the end of the 1960s, One Direction stuck resolutely to the caricatures that fans and management assigned them right to the end.

Malik was brooding and mercurial, Harry Styles was a cool, flamboyant ladies’ man, Niall Horan was charming and laid-back, and Louis Tomlinson, who has since admitted to feeling a little redundant, was fun and energetic. And Payne? Well, Payne was The Responsible One.

‘I’ve always been a bit of an older soul,’ he says, mulling over his place. ‘It’s funny: there’s a thing on the net where the fans put what they think are our mental ages. All the boys were around their real ones, but then they put me at about 37.’

Payne admits to feeling a little daunted in 2010, when Simon Cowell thrust the band together on X Factor after they’d auditioned as solo artists. Keeping up with the other personalities in the gang was exhausting, so his coping mechanism was to attempt to rein them in as best he could, and work with management in doing so. Like the popular schoolboy teachers identify as mature enough to be a trusted emissary for his recalcitrant friends, Payne carved himself a valuable niche.

‘I was put with a group of rowdy teenagers, and when I was a teenager, I had mates, but I was always with my dad. I’d go out to the pub and chat with him. So when I was stuck with these boys I was thinking, “F— me, I don’t know how to do it.”

‘When something was going wrong, I’d get a phone call. If there was an apology needed, it was me. I was the spokesperson for the band, as it were, with the press and the label.’

Along with Tomlinson, Payne shares comfortably the most writing credits of the band on One Direction songs. Over their five albums, dozens of songwriting collaborators contributed to the group’s success, but it seems nobody worked harder than the two least-heralded members. Neither was the showiest or best singer; but they kept things ticking over.

One Direction’s hordes of fans around the world noticed the assumed roles, and nicknamed Payne ‘Daddy Directioner’. He lived up to it with them, too. In 2013, on tour in Australia, Payne tweeted a message to warn girls waiting outside the band’s hotel of snakes living in the surrounding fields. ‘It’s just not worth it someone’s gunna get hurt [sic],’ he pleaded.

Two years later, he gave an interview lamenting the fact he and the other boys were being sent sexually explicit pictures of themselves drawn by underage admirers. While the rest of the band seemed to find that funny, Payne called it ‘the sad and sorry side of what we’ve done.’ Yeah, all right, Dad.

Becoming a real-life father has at least given the nickname some purchase. Rumours swirled at the end of 2015 that he had started dating Cheryl – formerly Fernandez-Versini and Cole, née Tweedy – after her second marriage ended in divorce. By the next summer, she was pregnant with the second One Direction baby (Tomlinson, the eldest of the bunch, had one first).

The couple live in a mansion near Woking, Surrey, and aren’t married, but he considers them ‘basically at that stage’. Bear, with whom Payne is besotted, was born in March, and named for the growling noises he was making during his first sleeps. So far, no photographs have been released, but he instantly shows me one on his phone. And here, I can exclusively reveal that the heir Bear is – as you’d expect of a baby with that name, born of two professionally good-looking parents – very cute.

‘We’ve only shown him in glimpses,’ Payne says, explaining their decision to shield him. ‘We don’t want him to have the pressure that me and Cheryl have, as household names. We want him to enjoy himself first and then figure it out.’

Born and raised in Wolverhampton, Payne has an unexpectedly thick Midlands accent that gets thicker the longer he talks – which is a lot. His preferred conversational feature is the anecdote, resulting in a version of the phrase, ‘I remember, there was this one time…’ prefixing the majority of his utterances, which are in turn regularly punctuated with singular handclaps of self-incredulity. It can be mildly alarming, like interviewing a young, heavily-tattooed Ronnie Corbett, but I suppose it speaks to the amount of life experience he has already accrued.

Growing up, Payne’s father, Geoff, worked as a fitter, while his mother, Karen, was a nursery nurse. Money was tight and the house small, but he remembers it as a happy one.

‘My place was on the floor with the dog, there was no space on the sofa. It was great, though we didn’t have much. Dad was in debt, but they did the best they could. It makes you dream a bit, you know?’

As a child, he had two routes to possible stardom, both of which Geoff pushed hard for. One was singing, the other was long-distance running. For a time in his teens, Payne was one of the fastest 1500m runners in the country, getting up to train before school and seconds from qualifying for the London 2012 squad. It was before that, as a 14-year-old in 2008, that he first applied for X Factor.

Auditioning with Fly Me To The Moon, since it was one of the few songs he could manage while his voice was breaking, that year he got as far as the ‘judge’s houses’, before Simon Cowell told him to come back in two years and try again. He became a mini-celebrity back home in that between-period, and carried on performing around town. The adulation was short-lived, though.

Once, performing a Justin Timberlake cover at an under-18s gig in Oceana Wolverhampton, somebody lobbed a coin at his face and managed to draw blood. He laughs about it now. These days – admittedly a largely cashless society – it’s only bras and knickers they fling.

‘I had become less and less famous. One time, I was in McDonald’s with a girlfriend and someone shouted ‘X Factor reject!’ at me. The whole restaurant turned. It was like coming out of fame. So I knew what it was like at 15, and it helped me.’

Following Cowell’s advice, he returned to X Factor in 2010 and found himself shoved into One Direction with the four other boys, eventually finishing the competition in third place, but with easily the brightest future. Within weeks, he had moved out of his Wolverhampton bedroom and into a penthouse apartment in Canary Wharf.

And six years later, One Direction had sold more than 20 million records, become the first band in history to have their first four albums go to number one in the US, touring the world numerous times, and earned a preposterous amount of money in the process. Payne is now estimated to be worth £40 million. He hasn’t been back to Wolverhampton in a long time, but he paid off his father’s debts years ago, and bought his parents a new house in addition to funding the renovation of their family home. He refers to his time spent in One Direction as ‘like uni’.

When they were in the thick of things, all the boys used to obey Cowell’s omertà – relentless enthusiasm at all times, please – and never discussed any negative aspects of their experience. Now safely out the other side, Payne is frank on matters of burnout and claustrophobia.

‘Cabin fever. It sent me a bit AWOL at one point, if I’m honest. I can remember when there were 10,000 people outside our hotel. We couldn’t go anywhere. It was just gig to hotel, gig to hotel. And you couldn’t sleep, because they’d still be outside,’ he says, before telling several stories of how he and Tomlinson would sneak out of hotels just to feel freedom, only to find themselves bored once they got out.

‘People were speaking to me about mental health in music the other day, and that’s a big issue. Sometimes you just need some sun, or a walk.’

Every stop on tour became the same. Earlier this year, Payne was asked which was his favourite city of those he visited with One Direction. ‘One in Italy with a big white cathedral,’ he responded.(The band performed in Milan at least five times.)

‘One of the problems was that we never stopped to celebrate what we’d done. I remember us winning loads of American Music Awards and then having to get on a plane straight away. It got to the point where success was so fluid. I don’t even know what happened to our songs, we just sang them, then sang some more. It was like a proper, hard job. Non-stop. I can concentrate a lot more now.’

The paparazzi and fan attention sounds just as draining. It must feel weird having a Twitter following larger than the population of Australia, as he does, but especially odd to have fans so obsessed that they’ve set up multiple fake profiles pretending to be your mother, for some reason.

Moreover, footage of One Direction out and about makes A Hard Day’s Night look tame: thousands of screaming fans all over them, police escorts everywhere they went, an unending run of selfie requests... It came to a head in New York in 2012, when Payne was walking to a restaurant with his parents and a paparazzo accidentally pushed his mother over. He was incensed.

‘I was like, “Oh, f— this. F— this s—t.” There was a swarm of them and I just wanted a burger with my parents,’ he says, unsmiling for a moment. ‘I cried my eyes out. I thought, “I can’t do this”, and really hated my life.’

He soldiered on, but it wasn’t a healthy lifestyle; none of them seems to miss it now the ‘break’ is on.

‘It’s great that people can see what we’re really like away from each other,’ Payne says. ‘It got to a point in the band where we were just playing characters, and I was tired of my character. Apart from the daddy thing, I was really loud and bubbly. There were a lot of personalities in the band to keep up with, so I had to be all, ‘Ey!’, the rowdy lad, and I don’t have to now.’

There were times when the band would celebrate hard, and in that, Payne had catching up to do: as a child, he was diagnosed with a scarred kidney, meaning he didn’t taste alcohol until he was given the all-clear at 19. Tell a teenage millionaire they can now safely drink, and they’ll go for it. He admits ‘the floodgates opened’ that year.

‘I wasn’t happy. I went through a real drinking stage, and sometimes you take things too far. Everyone’s been that guy at the party where you’re the only one having fun, and there were points when that was me. I got to 13 stone, just eating crap. I got fat jibes, and it affects your head. I have nothing to hide about it…

‘As I say, it was like a musical university. We were pretty reckless, but I got it out of my system. I had my fun.’

The hiatus seems to have come at just the right time. But before he could take a breath, Payne lurched on in life, becoming involved with Cheryl almost at once.

Nobody asks how they met; their introduction is on YouTube for all to see. Ten years his senior, she was an X Factor judge in 2008 when the 14-year-old Payne shuffled in, all mop-hair and waistcoat, to perform his Sinatra number. He winked at her, she called him ‘cute’, they bumped into one another over the years, ended up working on a remix of one of her songs in 2014, and the rest is recent pop history.

Not everybody was happy when the relationship was initially confirmed. That Cheryl was in a quasi-pastoral role when they met raised eyebrows in the usual eyebrow-raising camps, as did the couple’s decade-wide age gap. Liam doesn’t care. In fact, he can still barely get over the fact she’s his girlfriend.

‘It’s a ridiculous place to be in,’ he says. ‘She’s even more amazing than I thought. I was watching her do Fight For This Love [her debut solo single, from 2009] when I was a kid, and now we’re together with a kid. I feel like I’m X Factor’s biggest winner.’

It helps having Cheryl around to ask about business matters. Like Payne, she was scouted on a TV pop contest (2002’s Popstars: The Rivals), had massive success in a group (Girls Aloud), and then went solo with a more urban sound. She is also the unlikely possessor of the record for number-one singles by a British woman.

‘We think about the same things. She understands what my life is like. She knows what it’s like to sit on the Graham Norton couch [or] we can talk about her L’Oréal work. It’s not that we’re “a brand” as a family, but we can help each other.’

In Who We Are, one of One Direction’s seven books, published in 2014, Payne writes in his chapter that he’s ‘worried about the idea of failing outside of this band’ and declared he’d become a low-key songwriter, because ‘there would be less attention on my life’.

The opposite of that is what’s happening, I inform him.

‘Yeah, that was a point when I was scared of our success, and we didn’t want to take a step back from it,’ he says. ‘I just wanted to be a songwriter and not be famous, but happy. Then Simon and Cheryl told me this is where I am supposed to be, and I’d miss the stage. The pressure of what was coming next was scary, but they talked me down.’

The solo product he’s come up with is the sort of music he’d always wanted to make: radio-friendly R&B in the style of his heroes, Justin Timberlake, Usher and Pharrell Williams, and more informed by the rap music he listens to than the pop he’s famous for. Who knows if he can shake the ‘embarrassing dad’ brand to pull it off, but the signs point to success. Strip That Down has been streamed more than 300 million times on Spotify alone.

‘I wanted this to be for people my age. The themes are a bit older, but you have to grow up with your fans. I can’t make bubblegum pop any more,’ he says.

One Direction fans needn’t despair. They might have dispersed and almost all signed elsewhere, but Payne is excited about the idea of a comeback gig in years to come. As, I’m sure, are the band’s accountants.

But that won’t be for a little while, if Payne has it his way, because – as he keeps on telling me – he is just far too happy with his lot at the moment to take a step backwards. When it reaches our time to wrap up, he’s still at it.

‘I feel great about what’s going on in my life,’ he says, giving it one last handclap and springing to his feet. ‘I’m extremely lucky. I feel like I’m in a comatose dream. I’m like, “when did I last bump my head?” because I can’t believe this…’

Liam Payne’s next single, Bedroom Floor, is out on 20 October

[salazar-slytherin-8867]

I challenge you to answer ALL the unusual asks. (If not just answer the ones you want to)

(thanks) 

1) Spotifiy, Soundcloud, or Pandora? 

Spotifiy

2) Is your room messy or clean? 

Messy. very. very. messy. 

3) What color are your eyes? 

blue/green.  

4) Do you like your name? why?

Not really. I got bullied for it in third and fourth grade about it, so Ive kinda disliked it since, but at least its not generic. 

5) What is your realationship status? 

in a relationship. 

6) Describe your personality in 3 words or less. 

Really fucking annoying. 

7) What color hair do you have? 

Blonde, but Im thinking of dying it. 

8) What kind of car do you drive? color? 

I cant drive, but my mom car is a green 2000 Toyota Camry 

10) How would you describe your style? 

All over the place and completely random. 

11) Favorite Social Media Account? 

Probabaly my Facebook, cause thats where I talk to most of my family. 

12) What size is your bed? 

Twin, I think. 

13) Any sibblings? 

I have two half sisters and two half brothers on my fathers side, and a twin brother. 

14) If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be, and why? 

Mars cause I want to go to Pigfarts  Probabaly like the Oregon coast. cause I like cold weather and the West Coast

15) favorite Snapchat filter? 

I dont use Snapchat, soooo. 

16) Favortie makeup brand(s) 

I dont wear a lot of make up, but I do like e.l.f. 

17) How many times do you shower in a week? 

On a good week, 5-6, on a bad week, 2-3. 

18) Favorite Tv show? 

Rick and Morty, or NCIS 

19) Shoe size? 

 sometimes I wear a 5, others a six or seven, it varies depending on the style of shoe… 

20) How tall are you? 

5′1″ 

21) Sandals or Sneakers? 

Sneakers

22) Do you go to the gym? 

Nope. 

23) Describe your dream date.

probably just like, picnic by a lake or at a park. 

24) How much money do you have in your wallet right now? 

I dont have a wallet, but I have a jar of pocket money with $83

25) what color socks are you wearing? 

Im not wearing socks but earlier I was wear black socks. 

26) How many pillows do you sleep with? 

I only have one for my head, but I have 12 pillows on my bed. 

27) Do you have a job? what do you do? 

does being annoying and sad count as a job? 

28) How many friends do you have? 

12, but only half are close friends. 

29) What is the worst thing youve ever done? 

In third grade I gave a kid a black eye…

30) whats your favorite candle scent? 

Spring Rain. 

31) 3 favorite boy names?

Max, Alex, Jake. 

32) 3 favorite girl names? 

Raine, Sage, Autum. 

33) Favortie actor? 

Lenardo DeCaprio 

34) Favorite Actress? 

Emma Watson 

35) Who is your celebrity crush

Dont have one. 

36) Favorite Movie? 

Rent 

37) Do you read a lot? what is your favorite book? 

I’ve actually been trying to read more, I love Sparrow Road, If I stay, and Shadow. 

38) Money or brains? 

Brains, teach a man to fish.

39) Do you have a nickname? 

Moxie Clean, Moxanne, Molly Molly Moxen Free, Marshmallow, mo, mox. 

40) How many times have you been to the hospital? 

Once, when I was five, when I cracked my forhead open I Have a Scar I am Harry Potter

41) top ten favorite songs? 

Thats What You Get~Paramore,Thnks Fr Th Mmrs~ Fall Out Boy, Misery Business~Paramore, Whatsername~Green Day, It Ends Tonight~All American Rejects, Be my Escape~Relent K, 21st Century Breakdown~Green Day, Always~Blink-182, Ignorance~Paramore, A Drop in the Ocean~ Ron Pope. 

42) Do you take any medications daily? 

Zyrtec, and Asprins. 

43) What is your skin type? 

No clue, kinda dry I guess? 

44) What is your biggest fear? 

Probably abandonment having no one care about/like me. or being a disapointment. 

45) How many kids do you want? 

probably just one. three max. 

46) What is your go to hairstyle? 

I just leave my hair down. 

47) what type of house do you live in? 

I live in an apartment, that is super tiny, and hasnt been updated since the ealy 90′s… 

48) Who is your role model? 

the woman my mother works for. and my Grandmother. 

49) what is the last complement you recived? 

one of my friends told me he liked my rant about depression. 

50) What is the last text you sent? 

‘bro, did you die?!?’ 

51) How old were you when you ofund out Santa wasnt real? 

I was 5, I still put out cookies, but now they’re for my Grandmother and Grandfather. 

52) What is your dream car? 

I dont know yet, maybe just a Pale Green VW bug, or something that costs less. 

53) Opinion on smoking? 

I dont like smokers Ive been bullied my entire life cause all my clothes smell like cigerette smoke, but I dont really get to voice my thoughts cause most of my family smokes. But I have no plans to when Im old enough. 

54) Do you go to college? 

No. And I wont be anytime in the next five years or so.

55) What is your dream job? 

Chemist/Nurse/Author, or something that does good and pays well. 

56) Would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? 

Rural Areas. Its nice to see all the stars so clearly. 

57) Do you take the shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? 

should I not? 

58) Do you have freckles? 

No, but my mother says that I did when I was younger. 

59) Do you smile for photos? 

Sometimes. 

60) How many pictures do you have on your phone? 

I dont have a phone so….

61) Have you ever peed in the wood? 

nope. 

62) Do you still watch cartoons? 

yeah. 

63) do you perfer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds? 

 I cant afford to eat out. (just for the record, Micky D’s) 

64)Favorite dipping suace? 

ranch. 

65) What do you wear to bed? 

it depends, it I dont feel like changing I’ll sleep in what Im wearing, otherwise, just sweats and a tee shirt. 

66) have you ever won a spelling bee? 

Ive never even entered cause in third grade, my teacher told me not to bother trying cause my spelling was too bad, so I havent entered since. 

67) What are your Hobbies? 

Is eating a hobby? I like to read, draw, write, and sit around being sad. and kazoooo

68) Can you draw? 

Not well. 

69) do you play an insturment? 

Clarinet, Guitar, and piano. 

70) what is the last concert you saw? 

a band concert, that I was in. 

71) tea or coffee? 

Both. 

72) Starbucks or Dunkin? 

that depends on the day, what planets where seen last night, what color socks Im wearing, when the next full moon is, and weather or not I have money. 

73) Do you want to get married? 

Maybe. 

74) what is your crushes first and last initial? 

M.D. 

75) Are you going to change your last name when you get married? 

maybe. 

76) what color looks best on you? 

teal maybe? I honestly have no clue. 

77) do you miss anyone right now? 

My friends from school, and old nieghboirs. 

78) Do you sleep with your doors open or closed? 

normally, I would sleep with my door closed, by my brother broke the hinge, so now it can only be open 

79) Do you believe in ghosts? 

yeah. 

80) what is your biggest pet peeve? 

 people who only care about others and never help themselves, people who act entitled when they arent, and people use terms they dont know the deffinition of. 

81) Last person you called? 

@geez-man, in like, June

82) favorite Ice Cream flavor? 

mint or coffee. 

83) Regular oreos, or golden oreos? 

regular. 

84) Chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? 

both. yes. all of the above. 

85) What shirt are you wearing? 

its a leopard with the David Bowie lighting blot on its face. 

86) what is your phone background? 

*doesnt have phone* 

87) Are you outgoing or shy? 

A bit of both, it depends who Im with, 

88) do you like it when people play with your hair? 

sometimes, depends who it is. I have trust issuses with people who touch my hair, cause in fifth grade a girl told to whole school I had lice, even though I didnt. 

89) do you like your neighboirs? 

I dont know my nieghboirs that well, cause most poeple are only here a couple months and then they leave, so really Im indifferent. 

90) Do you wash your face? at night? in the morning? 

in the mornings. 

91) have you ever been high? 

nope. 

92) have you ever been drunk? 

nope. 

93) Last thing you ate? 

A chicken sandwhich with pesto, chedder and pita chips. 

94) Favorite lyrics right now? 

“why do we like to hurt so much?”~thats what you get, Paramore; 

“The walls start breathing My mind’s un-weaving Maybe it’s best you leave me alone”~It ends tonight, All American Rejects;

“Well there’s a million other girls who do it just like you Looking as innocent as possible to get to who They want and what they like, it’s easy if you do it right”~Misery Business, Paramore. 

“If I could find you now things would get better We could leave this town and run forever” Ocean Avenue, Yellowcard.

“Where’s your gavel? Your jury? What’s my offense this time? You’re not a judge but if you’re gonna judge me Well sentence me to another life.”Ignorance, Paramore

“Don’t wanna hear your sad songs I don’t wanna feel your pain When you swear it’s all my fault Cause you know we’re not the same”~Ignorance, Paramore. 

95) Summer or Winter? 

Winter. 

96) Day or Night? 

night. 

97) Dark, milk or white chocolate? 

Milk chocolate. but if you offer me white or dark chocolate, I wont refuse. 

98) Favorite Month? 

August. 

99) What is your Zodiac sign? 

Scorpio

100) Who was the last person you cried in front of? 

I dont cry when Im with other people. 

(I probabaly mispelled 50% of this. Im sorry.)