#cuz he’d literally given in and severed himself from any chance at a life

[sinagrace]

Iceman’s been back on my mind lately. It started with the internet rumor that Shia Labeouf was being considered to play the role of Bobby Drake in a Marvel Cinematic Universe version of the X-Men. My DMs and @Mentions on social media were a mixture of intense reaction and then asking my take on who would make a great Bobby Drake (for the record: in my head I always saw him as a younger Antoni Porowski with a theater background, ‘cuz playing the funny guy with a vulnerable streak requires serious acting shops). My mind went back to the time of BC, when I was doing a lot of touring, and answering this very question because of my work on the Iceman book at Marvel. One thing led to another, and I decided to take a trip further down memory lane to look at my favorite volume of the series: Amazing Friends. Now, I know I’ve spent equal amounts of time publicly stating what a gift working on Iceman was, while also calling out the challenges that came with the experience, but the third volume really was a pure blessing. I was able to take every valuable lesson I learned as a writer, and apply it to telling a story that would be interesting to one person: Me. I’ve been a lifelong X-Men fan, I live and breathe comics, so my own expectations for a return to the series seemed like the only ones to really worry about meeting/ surpassing. The first two volumes had been so bogged down by rotating editors, complex continuity, company-wide events, multiple artists… The third volume was my chance to focus on what an Iceman series was outside of so much context. All that mattered was challenging myself to do an X-Men story that focused on the aspects of the franchise I felt were valuable and relevant, meaning: excuses to have Emma Frost be an asshole and finding an opportunity to make fun of Kitty Pryde’s haircut. Before moving on from Marvel, Axel Alonso made time to call me for a pep talk about the series. I wanted to get the series extended, and he wanted to help me succeed with the ten issues he could commit to. First, he offered an eleventh issue to give me more time on the stands. He took a look at everything I had planned, and basically told me to restructure with an eye for ramping up the pace. My writing background comes from prose and essays/ think pieces… both of which are methodical and provide some allowance from the reader to really take your time and set up the world before diving into the meat. That’s not the case with comics. You gotta work fast. Especially in today’s market, there is less and less room for a retailer to say, “give it two volumes, because shit starts really coming together by the third trade.” That was literally my speech for hooking people on such iconic series as Invincible, Fables, and Strangers in Paradise. Nowadays, every single issue is not a brick to be laid down as foundation so much as a bullet in your gun. Conflicting imagery, but that’s the point. Axel told me to think about the Big Moments in my life and sort out how to inject the mutant metaphor into it and make the most compelling comic book story I could. This was epic advice that I took with me into the new arc, but I struggled a bit with what could be bigger than the “coming out” storyline in volume one. Love was off the table because I wanted to keep Bobby single and ready to mingle. Death was off the table too, because my editor felt like we’d done enough with Bobby’s parents in the first two volumes. Upon looking at my own life, and considering the stuff me and my friends were dealing with, I landed on something a bit more reflective than LIFE or DEATH. I wanted to focus on that moment when a gay guy looks outside of himself and realizes the folks around him may not have it so easy. After everything we’ve been dealing with this summer, Iceman’s “big issue” of the arc feels oddly prescient. Bobby Drake had to reconcile his accidental complicit role in keeping the Morlocks down, and he has to investigate new approaches to being a better ally to those who don’t want to or can’t live under the protection of the X-Men. I used the Morlocks to allegorically speak to the issues that the trans/ NB community face today. Considering that trans folks are facing higher rates of homelessness and murder than other members of the LGBTQIA+ community, all I needed to do was find a perfect villain to treat the Morlocks as “lesser-than.” Cue Mister Sinister, who I wrote as particularly Darwinist with a major flair for interactive theater. While Amazing Friends definitely is the most fun I’ve had working on the book, it was also full of the heaviest shit I’ve written about. I’m so grateful that my editor let me use Emma Frost for a story about the trauma of gay conversion therapy with her brother Christian, but I’m still annoyed he wouldn’t let me put her in a sickening Givenchy outfit for her reveal. Similarly, creating the Madin character required that I chat with several mental healthcare professionals and members of the NB community to respectfully portray them as a resilient and fleshed out hero. I included personal lessons that I learned from years of the therapy (the sandcastle / sea image, a Jay Edidin fave moment). My editor and I weren’t always aligned, but we definitely were on each other’s side. He understood what I was trying to do and asked questions when something flew over his head, and he even had the good instincts to stop me from going too heavy handed with the ending. My original idea for the arc’s finale was to have Bobby become permanently scarred in his fight with Sinister, where he’d have a cool ice gash running across his face or something, a la Squall from Final Fantasy 8. The goal was to show Iceman stripping himself of his ability to pass as non-mutant to save the Morlocks, but the Mutant Pride fight scene being a stand-in for the Stonewall Riots kind of already made enough of a statement. Plus, no one in editorial wanted to deal with remembering to track his scar in other books. At first I tried to balk at his point of view, but when I looked over my original notes for the series, the point was to focus on optimism and hope. Giving Bobby a permanent scar and emphasizing the notion of sacrifice was too bleak a message for a series wherein the hero carbo-loads hoagies while riding an ice scooter and mutant drag queens emcee local festivals. Of course, the crowning achievement of the series… my mutant drag queen :) I’ve witnessed a lot when it comes to the world of pop culture and myth-making, and I 100% believe that you can’t plan the success of something. I’ve seen bands forced into breaking up because labels spend six figures failing at making listeners connect with an album. I witnessed firsthand how The Walking Dead was built from relatively humble beginnings as a buzzy cable drama into a literal international phenomenon over the course of its first three seasons. Everyone hopes for the best, but you never know how something will land with audiences. When the Shade character took off, I was truly astounded. Things I posted on Instagram while half-asleep became official quotes on major news sites. Queens and cosplayers were interpreting her like Margot Robbie had unveiled a new Harley Quinn lewk. The impact was so legit and immediate that we had to jump in and give Shade a proper Marvel hero alias, to truly welcome her into the X-Men canon. Hence the name change to Darkveil. (Funny story: I tried to fight hard for Madame X as an alias, but CB didn’t want another Agent X / “X-Name” character. Three months later, Madonna announced the Madame X album. Phew!) There was a time where I felt uncertain that the folks in charge at Marvel would bring Darkveil into any stories outside of the ones I wrote. My understanding was that Hickman was like the Cylons and had A Plan-- one that didn’t include her character. I made peace with my contribution to the Marvel Universe being contained, but then someone on social media pointed out that Darkveil showed up in an issue of Marvel Voices. After breaking down and reading Hickman’s House of X, I saw that his Plan was one of endless possibilities, and that he was moving EVERY character into new and dynamic places. I have hope now that he sees the possibilities with Darkveil, and takes advantage of her and all of her many body pouches. Amazing Friends really is my favorite thing I’ve done for the Big Two. I made a lifelong friend out of artist Nate Stockman (DC, please hire us for a Plasticman book), and I got to run a victory lap with the most encouraging and supportive readers out there. It was worth every dreadful conversation, every shitty thing a person said to me online, and all of the fun nonsense that goes into being creative for a living. Being stuck at home in quarantine has given me a lot of time to reflect on the gift that my career to date has been, and I feel so grateful to be where I am today. Other people may groan when they have to talk about something they’ve moved on from, but not me. I made people happier, I got to work with my favorite characters at Marvel, and and I'll say it again: it’s a frickin’ gift to make people move from your work. So, I will engage every tweet or message asking me my thoughts about who should play Bobby Drake in the Marvel Cinematic Universe… I’ll just never have a good answer.

[archonssun]

Kiss Bang

Kiss Bang

August 20, 2020

WC: 1964

-----

When you fell asleep on the gunner, his face had immediately flushed a violent crimson. No matter how much time had passed since you and Prompto got together, the blind always reacted this way when surrounded by the others. Noctis had been the first to notice, a sly smirk alighting on his lips. He had known of his best friend's feelings for you since he and Prompto had met you in high school.

***

It had been their last year of high school, and they were hanging out in the arcade they frequented. Prompto was watching Noct try his hand at one of the shooter games, the blond smirking as the prince fumble terribly.

"C'mon, Noct, just admit it," Prompto smiled, clasping his friend's shoulder. "You're just not good at shooter games."

"Like hell I'll ever admit that," the prince grumbled. He was about to give it another go when you showed up. Both he and Prompto could only watch in awe as you decimated the pixelated enemies, far surpassing even Prompto's score. When you finished, you had taken the top spot on the leaderboard with a small smirk. As you turned, Prompto caught sight of your eyes. They were breathtaking. Literally, he forgot to breathe.

"Dude, you're turning purple," Noct muttered, and Prompto inhaled deeply -- too deep, because he started coughing. Your (e/c) hues turned to him, concern evident in your gaze as you watched the blond struggle to breathe. You vaguely remember seeing him around school, but couldn't for the life of you remember what his name was -- or if you actually knew it.

"Hey, are you okay?" you asked, placing a hand on the blond's shoulder. His blue-violet eyes clashed with your own, making you inhale sharply.

Bang.

"Ye-yeah," Prompto stumbled, hurrying to stand straight and giving you a shy smile. "I-I'm fine, thanks."

***

You couldn't get the blond boy out of your head. He was beautiful: the freckles that painted his cheeks and nose, that gentle smile he had given you. And, fuck, his eyes. They were the most intense color you had ever seen, a sea of blue encased in violet. You were sure that no human being could possess eyes like his, and yet--

"(Y/n)!" your friend yelled, snapping you out of your reverie. Your head snapped up, looking them in the eyes. They had a small frown on their face. "You okay? You've been acting weird ever since you talked to that blond..."

"Yeah, I'm fine," you reassured them, taking a sip from your soda. Your friend watched you skeptically, but you paid them no mind -- your brain was filled with thoughts of the blond, and only him. Why hadn't I talked to him before? Had I just never noticed him? No, I clearly remember seeing him in the halls at school... so why--

Again, you were pulled from your thoughts by your friend's voice, dragging you into a conversation. So engrossed talking with your friend, you didn't notice a certain blond watching you.

"Prompto, stop staring. It's creepy..." Noct mumbled, the prince trying the shooter game again. Prompto's blond brows furrowed at his friend's choice of words, yet he didn't stop. Blue-violet orbs looked at the uniform you wore, and Prompto frowned. You went to his school, so why hadn't he seen you before? You looked to be about the same age as him and Noct, but he couldn't be certain.

The more he watched you talk with your friend, the more Prompto wanted to get to know you. You had overtaken him in his best game, beating out his score several times over. That wasn't just luck -- you had undeniable skill with guns. But he couldn't help but wonder if that was all you were skilled with.

Even days later, Prompto was on the lookout for you at school, and as the weekend rolled around he couldn't help but feel a certain pang of disappointment. The longer he went without seeing you -- without talking with you -- the lesser his chances felt to even approach you.

"I just don't get it, Noct," the blond whined, trailing after the prince. "She was wearing our uniform, but I haven't seen her at all."

"What's blondie on about?" Gladio grumbled, joining the two boys.

"A girl he met at the arcade," Noct answered plainly.

"Not just any girl!" Prompto defended. "She was awesome! Noct, you saw the way she used guns! You can't tell me it wasn't amazing!"

"Guns?" That had piqued Gladio's interest, amber eyes turning to the blond. "What did she look like?"

"Why?" Prompt asked slowly, his eyes narrowing.

"Because now I'm curious," Gladio snorted. He stretched his arms over his head, closing his eyes for the briefest of seconds. "Besides, the Guard just got a new recruit, around your guys' age. She's pretty handy with guns, too. So, tell me: what did she look like?"

"She had (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair, and was about this tall," Prompto began, lifting his hand up to his shoulder. A smile was quick to split his face. "Man, you should've seen her! She was amazing, Gladio!"

"(E/c) and (h/c), huh?" the Shield muttered, hand lifting to rest on his chin. "Sounds like (Y/n) -- the new recruit I was telling you about."

(Y/n). Prompto let the name roll around in his mind before a smile came to his face.

"You think we'll get to meet her today?" Prompto blurted out, his face growing hot when he realized what he had said. Gladio let out a hearty laugh at the expression on the blond's face.

"Yeah. She's training with us today."

***

"Whoa." Prompto had to agree with Noct. Never in a million years did he think he'd see someone so comfortable with firearms, yet (Y/n) used them as if they were extensions of your own body. You were quick, too; never wasting a single second as you demonstrated for the others trainees. Your body was firm in its position as you fired, moving nary a centimeter from the gun's recoil.

Prompto’s tongue was nearly hanging out of his mouth as he watched you. It wouldn’t be an understatement to say the blond was awestruck.

“Noct! Noct!” he whispered, tugging at the back of the prince’s shirt. He heard Noct snort, but he turned to watch you regardless. Yes, the prince had seen you utterly kill it at the arcade game, but watching you use live firearms -- it made Noct uneasy. The way you moved, the way you carried yourself made it seem like you were born to fight.

When training had wrapped up, Prompto found the courage to approach you. You were maintaining your gun.

“He-hey,” Prompto stuttered, and you turned to face him. When your eyes met his, you nearly dropped your gun, not expecting to see the blond again -- least of all here.

“Hey,” you replied quietly, your eyes straying to look at the table. Prompto noticed this, and a small frown alighted on his features for a split second.

“I’m Prompto,” he smiled, hand outstretched. You only saw it because you had dared to look back at him. You hesitated for a moment before clasping his hand in your own.

“I’m (Y/n).”

“I know.” Your raised brow had Prompto trying to backtrack. “I-I mean -- Gladio, he--”

“I guess he told you, then,” you grinned. “That man has got to learn how to keep his mouth shut.”

“Sorry…”

“Not your fault,” you shook your head, taking your hand back and finishing with your firearm. It reminded Prompto why he had approached you in the first place.

“Hey, I was wondering,” he began, eyes shifting to look to his right. His hand came to rest at his nape, a slight flush painting his face and ears. He was silent for a few moments before his blue-violet eyes flicked back to meet yours. “Could you teach me?”

“Teach you?” you parroted. You had seen him during training; he didn’t need help with firearms.

“Yeah, teach me.” His lips pulled up in a brilliant smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Why me?”

“‘Cuz you’re the best gunner I know.”

Bang.

***

Your (e/c) eyes opened slowly, a slight smile on your lips when they were met with blond hair. Carefully, you sat up. It was rare that you woke before Prompto, and you intended to capitalize on it. A hand went to run through his hair, and you bit a knuckle of your free hand to keep from laughing. Prompto had let out a purr-like sound when you had touched his hair. His arms wrapped tighter around your waist, nose burying itself in your stomach.

“Need some help there?” Gladio smirked, but you shook your head.

“He needs to get some rest,” you whispered, smile turning gentle as you watched the blond. “He’s been pushing himself too hard lately.”

“That’s so he can keep up with you,” Gladio snorted, and you pouted at the man before looking down at Prompto. You had known the blond for three years now. When he had asked you to teach him, you had been skeptical at first. You didn’t think you could teach him all that much; he had already been one of the best gunmen you had seen, even at seventeen. Fairly quickly, it had turned into you being the one taught.

“He doesn’t have to worry about that,” you pout. You ran your hand through the blond strands again. “He’s already far out of my league, in many ways.”

***

After you had spoken with Gladio, you watched Prompto progress at an unnatural pace. He was a prodigy with firearms, you knew this, but you couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that struck your breast. It was there for not a moment before it was gone, leaving guilt in its place.

It had become a struggle to keep up with him, now. He was above and beyond what you could ever hope to be, at least in your lifetime. No matter how hard you tried, all you saw was his back as he kept going forward.

“Babe, you okay?” Prompto’s voice startled you, making your head snap up from where it rested on your knees.

“I’m fine, Live Wire,” you cooed. “Just a bit tired.”

“Then come on,” he grinned, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet. He laced your fingers with his, his smile turning from blinding to soft -- filled with love and adoration -- and pulled you into the tent. Your own smile graced your lips as you followed after the blond. He took up his spot between Gladio’s sleeping bag and Ignis’s, pulling you down with him.

Prompto’s arms wound around your waist, pulling you into his chest. His lips resting against your forehead, you could feel the smile that had yet to disappear.

Kiss.

“I love you, (Y/n),” he muttered, pressing kisses to your temples.

“I love you, too, Live Wire,” you giggled. The hands at your back disconnected, one going to your hand. His fingers, woven with yours once more, gave your hand a light squeeze. Suddenly, your eyes were met with seas of indigo, Prompto touching his nose to yours.

“My little dead-eye,” the blond cooed.

Bang.

“Fuck, why’re you so cute, dammit?!” you pouted. Prompto’s laugh encased you as he pulled you to his chest. You smiled against him, the vibrations of his chest eased your mind; there was no reason to feel envy towards the blond. You had both trained long and hard for the Crownsguard, and not once had he thought himself superior to you. You snuggled against his chest, “Thank you, Prompto.”

“Anytime, babe.”

-----

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[etherealwaifgoddess]

Maybe I Am? - Chpt.1

Characters: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Summary: After meeting in a chatroom Steve and Bucky finally meet up in real life, however Bucky isn’t anything Steve was expecting. Master list HERE.

Content Warning: a very confused Steve, an adorably disappointed Bucky. 

Word Count: 3.1k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! One of my favorite versions of Steve is the sweet confused Steve, and so I decided to have a little fun with him in this fic. Also, Steve Rogers is a Slytherin and I will fight ya’ll to the death on that one. If you don’t believe me read #10 in THIS article. There will be six chapters total, one posted every evening until we’re done. Hope you enjoy! XOXO - Ash

Chapter One

Bucky stared at Alpine, desperate for more companionship than the fluffy white cat could provide. He’d been stuck inside for the past four days while he got over the damned late winter cold he’d caught. Bucky hadn’t been sick in almost two years so he couldn’t really complain, but he was social by nature and Alpine could only do so much for her end of the conversation. He finally drug himself out of bed, carrying his fluffy duvet to the sofa with him so he could throw on a rerun of The Good Place and fire up his laptop. Bucky logged into the chat site he used to frequent that hosted discussions on all different fandoms from movies to television shows to music. He used to love hanging out online in some of the Harry Potter chats, especially HuffleHaven which he was pleased to see was still active. Bored and not really feeling up to fangirling at a level appropriate for a proud Hufflepuff, he hopped into a punk rock appreciation chat to hopefully find a way out of his bored funk. 

WinterBae: so ur a Greenday fan?

AmericanIdiot: What was your first clue?

WinterBae: well i heard the sounds of hysteria

AmericanIdiot: LOL nice. Is that your cat in the profile pic?

WinterBae: yuppp, that’s my girl Alpine

AmericanIdiot: She looks sweet. So, what fandom are you here for?

Bucky flicked over to view AmericanIdiot’s profile and was instantly smitten with the blonde who claimed punk rock was life and he could live on tacos alone if given the chance. He wondered briefly if the pic was real, it wasn’t unheard of for people to use model’s photos instead of their own, and the guy in AmericanIdiot’s picture was definitely model worthy. Tall, buff, and gorgeous; Bucky was definitely interested in more than conversation. Well, nothing to make himself feel better than a little harmless flirting. 

xxXxx

Three months later.

AmericanIdiot: I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.

WinterBae: oh come on! it’s not that bad, just let the hat sort you and i’ll let you retreat to your boring punk rock group. 

AmericanIdiot: You so owe me for this one. 

WinterBae: puhleeeease please please please

AmericanIdiot: FINE. But you still owe me. 

WinterBae: whatever you want. Promise :D

[Private Chat Initiated]

AmericanIdiot: Well shit. 

WinterBae: was i right??

AmericanIdiot: I hate you. 

WinterBae: nope, u luv me. and i told u so ;)

AmericanIdiot: How in the ever loving fuck am I a Slytherin?? I literally help my neighbor with her grocery bags every week! I feel like a puppy kicker now.

WinterBae: the hat sees inside ur soul puppy kicker mwahaha

AmericanIdiot: You totally owe me. 

WinterBae: fine. coffee? sunday morning maybe? r u near red hook? 

AmericanIdiot: I’m over in Park Slope. So not too far. Wait, are you serious? You really want to meet up?

WinterBae: let’s meet @ magnolia cafe 10am on sunday

AmericanIdiot: But how will I know it’s you?

WinterBae: i’ll wear a red rose tucked in my hair. cuz i’m classy like that lol

AmericanIdiot: Haha. Nice. I can’t wait.

WinterBae: me too :)

Steve closed the lid of his laptop, unable to believe his luck. He was finally going to meet WinterBae in real life after months of witty banter and playful flirting. He pulled on his sneakers, ready to go run out all the nervous energy thrumming inside him, and he hoped he wasn’t getting his hopes too high. Sam had already pointed out several times that he didn’t know a whole lot about WinterBae, not even what she really looked like. Steve maintained he wasn’t shallow and he knew enough about her to know that she was everything he’d hoped to find in a woman. She was bright and funny, kept him on his toes for sure, and had a biting wit that left him laughing harder than he had in years. Steve had been so lonely since Peggy up and left him, moving back to England after eight months of living together. He was finally ready to move on and he hoped WinterBae would be the one to do that with. 

Across the bustling streets of Brooklyn, in his little apartment in Red Hook, Bucky was rapid fire texting Nat about his date. She cheered him on good naturedly, happy he was actually putting himself back out there after the disaster that was Brock Rumlow. Bucky was proud that he’d been so smooth in asking AmericanIdiot to meet up, or at least smooth by his own nerdy standards. He reminded himself several times that even if the profile pic wasn’t really AmericanIdiot, he would most likely still be interested. How could he not be after spending the past three months talking to the guy every day? They talked about everything together and Bucky felt like he knew AmericanIdiot better than some of his real life friends. Two more days and he would have a name and a face to put with the amazing, brilliant, artistic guy he was completely head over heels for. Now he just had to figure out where to buy a red rose.

xxXxx

Bucky sat at a small cafe table inside Magnolia Cafe, trying not to fidget with the rose tucked behind his ear. He felt a little silly for wearing it, but also kind of like he was in a romance novel waiting to meet his knight in shining armor. He had worn his very best skinny jeans and a black button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, leaving his assortment of bracelets on display. He wasn’t getting his hopes up, but damned if he wasn’t going to look his best just in case. Nat had insisted on going along, wanting to make sure Bucky’s online friend wasn’t some kind of creeper. The fierce redhead sat a few tables away, poised and ready to strike should the guy make any untoward moves. Bucky loved how protective Nat was, though honestly she was a bit terrifying at times. So he waited, scrolling through Buzzfeed News, hoping that maybe this once luck would be on his side.

Steve was so nervous he was sweating a little by the time he got to the cafe. He wiped his palms on the side of his tee shirt, wondering belatedly if he should have put in a little more effort. All he had was work clothes anymore, even the navy tee he had on was emblazoned with their star logo and the name of their gym underneath. Paired with the only jeans he owned and a lightweight leather jacket, he hoped he would make a good first impression. WinterBae had mentioned being into fashion but Steve had never had an eye for that sort of thing. Nerves rising, Steve hoped he would be able to find WinterBae easily. He knew only that she would have a red rose tucked in her hair, and from a brief mention a few weeks ago about haircuts, he knew to expect shoulder length wavy brown hair. But that was it. Steve reminded himself that he needed to go into this with open eyes, if nothing else he would walk away with a new friend. Someone other than Sam to hang out with, somewhere other than the gym they co-owned. Deep down though, he still hoped for more.

The cafe was dimly lit inside and it took Steve a minute to let his eyes adjust. He scanned the room quickly, taking note of all the women sitting at various tables. Most were with other people, leaving only four on their own, but try as he might he couldn’t spot red roses on any of them. He felt a pang of disappointment but prayed he was just early and not being stood up. He was about to go order himself an Americano to sip while he waited when he heard a rough, masculine voice call out “AmericanIdiot?” in a tone tinged with awe.

Steve turned in the direction of the voice to see a man about his age with a red rose tucked into his shoulder length wavy brown hair. His mouth moved while his brain reeled, “WinterBae?”

“Yeah! Hey!” Bucky felt like he was vibrating out of his skin; he was so thrilled. The blonde god standing in front of him really was the man from the picture, and he looked even better in real life, if that was possible. Brilliant, sweet, and hot. Bucky had hit the jackpot. 

Steve let himself be pulled into a warm hug, the man was a few inches shorter than his own 6’2” and fit nicely against his chest. The man. WinterBae was a man. Steve replayed all of their conversations in his head and kept coming up with the same assumption. Steve had never once in a million years thought he was a man. He supposed in retrospect that having a female best friend, a love of clothes, and a cat he called a “fur baby” was not necessarily concrete signs of being a woman, but damned if Steve had even thought twice about WinterBae’s gender. He forced himself to return the hug, happy to meet a new friend, even though his heart was crushed under the disappointment that nothing more would be coming of this meeting. 

“I’m so glad you made it.” Bucky told him as they pulled apart.

“Of course. Gotta get my cup of coffee for being tortured by a magical hat.” 

Bucky laughed, a rich rumbling sound, “Yeah, a Slytherin would never pass up the opportunity to benefit off the kindness of others.” 

“Well at least your poor little Huffle-brain won’t realize what’s going on.” 

“Ouch, punk. Those are some strong words from someone who watched Sorcerer's Stone for the first time less than a month ago.” 

“It’s your fault I did too, jerk. Uh, you can call me Steve by the way.” 

“Steve, nice. It suits you. I’m Bucky. Well, James, but everyone calls me Bucky.” 

“Now that’s a story I have to hear.” Steve said with a laugh and let Bucky lead him over to the line for his drink. 

They ended up spending two and a half hours talking at their little table at the cafe. Coffee turned into a muffin to split, which turned into a panini and iced teas for both of them. Steve couldn’t remember the last time conversation flowed so easily with someone. Talking to Bucky felt like they had been best friends for years opposed to only knowing each other a few months. They topic hopped relentlessly, never losing each other along the way. Steve found himself laughing so hard his ribs hurt when Bucky spoke about one of his teenage misadventures with his sister Becca. 

Bucky was very clearly flirting by the time they finished their lunch; shooting Steve sweet little smiles every so often and pushing his hair back behind his ear coyly. Steve knew he should put the breaks on the flirting, he didn’t want to lead Bucky on, but it was so much easier to just smile along with him. In his thirty years of life, Steve had never once questioned his sexuality. Men had never held any attraction for him, but something about the way Bucky chewed on his bottom lip, the tiny tip of his pink tongue peeking out, had part of Steve wanting to taste that lip himself. 

With a cough, Steve shook his head, trying to clear his unexpected wayward thoughts. “I’m sorry, I missed that.” he prompted.

Bucky titled his head slightly with a lopsided smile, “It’s okay. I was just saying that my sister was the one who gave me the courage to come out to my parents. She came out first and seeing how my parents reacted made it a lot easier for me to. She was only 15 at the time, but she always has been a hell of a lot braver than I am.” 

“I doubt that. But that’s great you guys are so close.” 

“Yeah, she’s been my best friend since the day she was born. Well, other than Nat, but don’t tell her that.” Bucky chuckled thinking back on the loving bickering Becca and Nat used to do when they were younger. “So how did you come out to your parents?” 

Steve wanted to die on the spot. A bright blush tinged his cheeks, staining his pale skin all the way down his neck. “I, uh. Well. I’m not. Um. I didn’t, actually. Because I’m not, um, gay.” Please god, let the ground open up and swallow me whole, he prayed silently, unable to meet Bucky’s eyes. 

The smile Bucky had worn, waiting for what he thought must have been one hell of a story based on Steve's blush, completely vanished. Along with all his foolish daydreams of dating someone as amazing as Steve. “Oh. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.” he finally choked out semi-normal sounding. 

“No, it’s my fault.” Steve hastily protested, “We talked so much online and I didn’t realize you were a man.” The wide eyed shock on Bucky’s face made Steve realize he hadn’t made things any better.

“Wait, what? You thought I was a woman?” Bucky asked incredulously. 

“Well, yeah. Nothing about your profile or our conversations were very clear and I guess I just somehow jumped to the conclusion that you were. I’m sorry, Bucky.” 

Disappointed but not wanting to miss out on a great friendship Bucky forced himself to smile reassuringly at Steve. “It’s okay. No harm done. So you're straight then?”

“I think so.” 

That did not help things. “That’s kinda something you know.” 

“Yeah, I thought so too. I like talking to you though. A lot.” Bucky was looking at him like he had three heads and Steve just wanted to crawl home and die of embarrassment. 

“Okay. I like talking to you a lot too. We can just be friends though, Steve. I’m not going to get my feelings hurt just because you bat for the other team.” 

“Thanks. I really am sorry. If I were to ever switch teams you’d be the first guy I call. You’re incredible.” 

“Aww come on. You don’t gotta say that. It’s all good, really. Now tell me more about this gym you run.”

Steve sighed, thankful to change topics, “Well, my best friend Sam and I opened it when he retired from the Air Force six years ago.” Steve launched into the story of how he met Sam through the VA where they had both volunteered as teenagers and then years later, they teamed up to start Shield Gym which was now one of the most popular gyms in the city.

The conversation lulled a little after that and Bucky politely refrained from any more flirting. Steve found himself missing the cute little gestures. He couldn’t figure out what the hell was wrong with him but he knew he needed to figure it out sooner rather than later. They parted as friends, swapping cell phone numbers so they could text instead of the message boards and private chats online. Steve initiated the goodbye hug, wanting to test the feeling of the smaller man in his arms once more. It was just as nice as the first time and only added to Steve’s confusion. 

Nat caught up with Bucky barely a block from the cafe, pulling him for a tight hug when she saw his morose expression. “Do I need to kill him?” she asked seriously.

“He's straight.” Bucky told her, “Well, he said he thinks he’s straight. Whatever the hell that means.” 

Nat quirked a brow at that, not commenting though.

“Either way, back to spending all my nights with you and Alpine. And Becca, when the brat has time to fly out.” 

“Maybe don’t write him off just yet.” Nat said carefully, “I saw you two together, it was sweet.” 

Bucky sighed, “I can’t do it, Nat. Just let the poor straight boy be slightly confused on his own before he settles down with some perfect human barbie doll he meets at his gym.” 

Nat pursed her lips in disapproval but remained silent. She wrapped an arm around Bucky’s waist and followed him home so they could share a pint of gelato and watch a trashy rom-com until Bukcy felt better.  

“Shit, Sam.” Steve whined at his best friend back in their gym in Park Slope. He’d gone straight from the cafe to the gym, knowing Sam was working the midday shift. “How did this happen?”

“You made an honest mistake, it happens.” Sam tried to be kind with his words, “But, and I’m not saying I told you so, you didn’t really know as much about this guy as you thought you did.” 

“That might have been the politest ‘I told you so’ ever.” 

“I am sorry that it didn’t work out though. I know you thought you really falling for this WinterBae.” 

“His name is Bucky. And, I don’t know Sam, he’s just as incredible in person. More so, even. I don’t know what to do. I’m not gay. But…. maybe I am?” 

Sam set down the bottle of spray disinfectant and the rag he was wiping down the machines with. “Steve, I know you had your hopes up for this guy. But he’s a guy. And being straight, or not straight, is typically something you figure out before your thirties.” 

“I know. I know.” Steve groaned, raking his hands through his hair. 

“At least you made a new friend, right?” Sam tried hopefully.

Steve shook his head, “Yeah, but it doesn’t feel like enough. I don’t know what to do, Sam.”

“You gotta figure that one out on your own, man. But whatever you do, don’t drag that poor boy through whatever premature mid life crisis you got going on. It wouldn’t be fair to him to get his hopes up.” 

“I know that.” Steve fought to keep the glare he wanted to give Sam off his face, “I would never hurt him. I just… I need to think about it, I guess.” 

Sam clapped Steve on the shoulder supportively before resuming his cleaning, “You do that. And if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.” 

Steve thanked him and then headed out. He had a lot of thinking to do. 

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Eight: Servitude ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

When you’re young, some established norms in your life that - to anyone else - may appear strange or even wrong can be hard to realize yourself. You grow up in an environment that’s all you know. Has always been the way you know it. And only by taking in outside stimuli and opinions can you start to form your own beyond what you’ve always known.

For Hinata...her suspicions began earlier than most that something was very, very wrong with her clan.

Neji, her dear cousin and playmate when very young, took a sudden turn for the worse after her third birthday. Hinata, so new to the world, had difficulty understanding precisely why. But the next time she saw him, the strange mark upon his brow was a stark difference...as well as the cold, hollow look in his eye.

“This is the legacy of the Hyūga, Hinata,” Hiashi had told her, a hand on her shoulder as she peered to him in question. “This seal is what has protected our bloodline and its secrets for centuries. The branch clan will always serve the main house...to keep us safe.”

Young and impressionable, Hinata hadn’t wholly questioned it...but nor has she fully understood it. The house hierarchy was something her young mind had yet to comprehend.

And yet...even then, part of her knew that anything to bring such an expression to Neji’s face was something she did not like.

As she grew, Hinata began to notice more and more things about the Hyūga that struck her as odd at best...and horrifying at worst. In the Academy, no one knew what she meant by branch house. The other clan children assured her there was no such thing in their bloodline. When Hinata asked how they kept their kekkei genkai or secrets safe, none had an answer...but nor did any admit to having such a stark line drawn through their clans.

The first time she saw Hiashi use the Caged Bird seal against Neji...she almost threw up. Seeing him suddenly so helpless, so pained, so eager for death to make it stop...her horror was only outweighed by her shock. Only once he deemed his nephew properly subdued did Hiashi release the technique, Neji left drooling and twitching on the dojo floor before being hauled away to his room to recover by other branch clan Hyūga.

She didn’t sleep for over a week after that, haunted by the contorted misery in her cousin’s face.

...no wonder he hated them.

Years passed, and the servitude expected of the branch clan Hyūga began to disgust her. While there was no punishment so long as one was obedient - and most of them seemed to know their place - the fact that they could be treated so poorly was bad enough...let alone that they were literally servants to other members of their own clan…!

Bringing her concerns to Hiashi, however...did more harm than good.

“You dare to question our ways…?” he’d retorted, tone dangerously quiet and foretelling of punishment. “The Hyūga have relied on that seal to keep our eyes safe for generations! Without it, the Byakugan and its secrets would be known across the continent!”

“B-but...the punishment -?”

“Is meant to keep those of lower, thinner blood in their place,” Hiashi had cut in, eyes narrowing. “To maintain order...force must often be used. Remember, Hinata...you are of the purest Hyūga breeding. This makes you fortunate...and there are those within our clan who would take that fortune from you if given the chance.”

She didn’t believe it.

Not once had she ever felt animosity from her clan save for her cousin’s thinly-veiled hatred of the main house. All she’d ever felt was a tired, somber acceptance. If any of the other Hyūga truly wished to take her place, to usurp the main house...they hid it well.

Early on, Hinata had secretly, silently promised herself one thing: that, when she became head of the Hyūga clan...the seal would be discontinued, no matter what lengths she had to go to.

...but her hesitation about the seal wasn’t the only weakness her father saw in her. Before even becoming a genin, Hinata was stripped of her title, which was given instead to her younger sister.

Every dream she’d had about ridding the clan of the seal was stolen that day...and could only be regained by reclaiming that title.

And though it was a major factor, it wasn’t the only thing that saw her determined to get stronger. Naruto, her idol, would quickly grow to outmatch her, getting further and further ahead once they became genin. And the longer he kept his back to her...the more Hinata realized...he would never see her as she saw him.

But her determination remained. She would get stronger…! If not for Naruto, if not for her title...then for herself. And someday...she would confront her clan, even if she never regained her position as heiress. Because she had made up her mind after Neji nearly killed her with the fires of his hate:

Enough was enough.

The gap between Naruto’s departure and return saw her train with her cousin nearly every day, even on the days when she would also have sessions to work with her team. Once-dainty hands became calloused from Jūken strikes against the wooden training logs. Baby fat slowly stripped away until her round face became more heart shaped. Though her build remained rounded, it was accented with muscle. Her Byakugan range reached ten kilometers. She pushed her limits of the Hakke. And after the Uzumaki’s return, she created and mastered her own technique, Jūho Sōshiken.

In those few years, under Neji’s tutelage - the genius of the branch clan - Hinata flourished...and edged closer to her goal.

...which made his death all the more heart shattering.

She’d made her choice. Even if Naruto couldn’t see her...he was too precious to lose. Both for her personally, and for the sake of their world. Hinata was ready to die for him. And yet, despite his fate being told to him as a boy...Neji embraced it not out of duty, but of a genuine will to protect his cousin when he took those mokuton shards through the chest, and died in the village hero’s arms.

...like father, like son.

Though she was exhausted, and in pain, and grieving more than words could say...Hinata pressed on with a lioness’ ferocity, helping to tear through the enemy until they overwhelmed her...and she was lost in her dream.

And then...the war was over.

But her fight had just begun.

Hanabi was still heiress. In truth, Hinata no longer wanted the position. The war had changed her perspective so drastically...she felt without direction. Save for one thing: to change her clan, for good...for the better.

But it wouldn’t be easy.

The aid of an old friend saw Neji revived, seal conquered. Hiashi, attempting to better himself, embraced his nephew fully, and agreed to help him and his daughters begin fighting back against the seal’s implementation.

At last...the branch clan’s future began to brighten.

And she felt...at peace.

...in part.

For Hinata, there was still something...missing. She had accepted the shape of Naruto’s heart, so different from her own. It would take time to do so fully...but no longer would she chase him as she had. What it meant to be a shinobi, however...she was no longer sure. Their entire world was shifting...and she had no idea how to keep up.

...but she found that in the last place she expected.

Uchiha Sasuke was, in many ways, a mystery...and yet, in others, she understood him better than most given their almost eerie parallels. It was that, coupled with her heightened understanding, that made her the champion among their year to welcome him back and do so without hesitation or wariness. In many ways, she knew his struggles, if only in a different light.

So when he, too, fought for change...she helped him, arranging for the Hyūga to ally themselves with the last Uchiha, and bring the massacre to light at long last.

And then, he repaid her...though he really had no intention to with what he’d done.

Reviving the police force with the Hyūga clan’s help was meant to help ensure that such shadows would never again choke their village. And as Sasuke explained his plan, wanting to earn her approval, Hinata felt his meaning in her bones: to work within their village to keep peace, connect with the villagers, and help keep darkness at bay.

It called to her...and so she joined: a public servant to the people. Fitting, she thought. Shinobi and their place were changing. And her doubts about her role only made her all the more sure that this would be the path to take. And alongside another champion of an oppressed clan, she would serve her village proudly.

Of course...her new career and friendship led to something else completely unexpected, getting closer to Sasuke in a way she’d never thought to. But sometimes, things just...fit.

Her road was long, and difficult...but in the end, it brought her right where she needed to be.

                                                              .oOo.

     First let me say that if this is a lil...off, that's my bad. It's very late and I had to deal with some severe tooth pain, so I'm a liiil bit out of it compared to my usual self, so...this might be a little...well, off, lol - hence why it's more introspective than actually...narrative. idk, I'm very tired and really just ready to crash.      One thing I despise about the canon ending is the complete lack of address given to certain issues. Foremost is the Uchiha massacre just being...swept under the rug despite ALL of team seven knowing the truth. But a close second is the Hyūga clan and their abuse of the branch house being COMPLETELY ignored, even after Neji's (unnecessary) sacrifice, and Naruto's promise to change them. We even see Hiashi - Mr. Abandon-his-daughter-and-abuse-his-nephew - supposedly embrace his half-blood grandkids, who would NORMALLY be given the seal. But otherwise, to my knowledge...nothin'.      I'm disappointed, Naruto.      So, in my lil version of things (which I'm currently overhauling, so...bear with me lol), Hinata puts her heckin' foot down cuz THAT AIN'T GONNA FLY with her around. So...yeah, lol      Anywho, I'm...on the verge of passing out, so that's it from me. Thanks for reading!

[bakagamieru]

what do you think of zayn's good years song?

I like it a lot!  I like the lyrics better than a lot of the ones that he’s released in the last couple years.

Also, I think this is one of the most emotional performances of a song Zayn has given since he went solo and especially since his first album.  I don’t think any of his recent singles have felt particularly emotional.  

Notice that his diction is quite clean as well.  People constantly complain about Zayn’s “mumbling” which I personally like and feel like people exaggerate and are hypocritical about.  However, it is nice to hear the lyrics so clearly and unambiguously, and I don’t think it’s a mistake that he deviated from his signature style in this song.  Even in terms of the production of the song, it’s very simple and doesn’t have as many sound effects and experiments as most of his songs have.

What does this mean?  It means that this song means a hell of a lot to Zayn and he wants to make sure nothing distracts from the message getting through.

I think this song is bound to make people interpret it in relation to the narrative around Zayn, but I think the song leaves plenty of room for a different interpretation.  In fact, BECAUSE we already know the official narrative is BS, we can eliminate that interpretation.  Anything that helps us narrow down the meaning of a song is helpful.

Line By Line Analysis

I will now proceed to do a lyric interpretation because, like I said, I’m sure people will misinterpret this in relation to his official narrative and I want to offer an alternate interpretation:

I’d rather be anywhere, anywhere but hereI’d rather be anywhere, anywhere but hereI close my eyes and see a crowd of a thousand tearsI pray to God I didn’t waste all my good yearsAll my good years, all my good years

The first line will probably be interpreted as him referring to his feelings during his time in 1D, but I think it’s much more likely he’s referring to his situation right now.  He’s separated from his boys, many fans and much of the public probably think he’s a selfish asshole who abandoned and betrayed his band, he’s being blocked from performing live, his solo career’s being sabotaged in general, his image is no better than it ever was and is probably nowhere close to what he would prefer, and he’s still being bearded.

The line about seeing a crowd of a thousand tears could refer to his own tears, but the “crowd” part also immediately makes me think of performing.  The 1D boys have talked about looking out on the crowd several times in songs and I think Zayn’s doing it again here.  Along with his own tears, I think he’s implying that he misses performing and also that he’s as upset about the fans being upset about what they’ve been told as about his own pain.

The last line that gives the song its name is another one that will probably make people assume the official narrative is real.  However, there are several interpretations that fit the meaning I’ve theorized for the other lines so far.  

For one, he probably feels pretty trapped in his current situation, even if it’s time dependent and theoretically he knows when he’ll be able to change it.  We know the plan has changed and been pushed back multiple times, so thinking he knows what will happen doesn’t guarantee it and Zayn knows that.  Saying he hopes he hasn’t wasted all his good years could refer to him fearing that he’ll never get to perform with his boys again.  “Wasting” his good years could refer to not appreciating what he had when he had it without even imagining that he could lose it.

It could also be referring to him worrying that he’ll never get to perform with his boys without having to also deal with Syco’s tyranny.  

He could also be worried that even if they do get the chance to be a band the way they wanted without Syco, it might be too late and things will never pick back up where they left off in terms of popularity and success.

I want to point out that to interpret this line as Zayn thinking being in 1D was a “waste” would imply that he thinks that he’s going downhill now that he’s solo.  You don’t talk about being beyond your “good years” when you’re not even 30 if you’re happy with where you’re at currently.  So if you believe in the official narrative and are interpreting this song in that light, then you think that Zayn is happier out of 1D, but to interpret this song that way, you have to assume Zayn isn’t happy with his current life now that he’s away from 1D.  It’s a bit hard to reconcile that interpretation.

The voices screaming loud as hellWe don’t care bout no one elseNothing in the world could bring us downNow we’re so high among the stars without a worryAnd neither one, one of us wants to say we’re sorry

The voice screaming loud as hell could be a negative thing, but it also could be referring performing again, and I think that makes sense given the previous line about a crowd.  It also goes better with the more triumphant lines that follow.

Saying “nothing…could bring us down”, “we’re so high among the stars”, and “without a worry” all imply a pretty positive situation.  He also says “now” which implies that he’s talking about his current situation in at least the last 2 lines, if not the rest in the verse.  I know this doesn’t jive very well with what I was saying about him not liking his current situation.  To be fair, the song itself says “I’d rather be anywhere but here”, so it’s the song that’s contradicting itself even without my interpretation coming into play.

However, I think this is because Zayn’s referring to 2 separate but connected things.

This is the first time that Zayn’s used plural pronouns in the song.  He’s obviously not talking about just himself.  This is about a relationship or a group of some sort.  Since the next line uses “neither one of us”, that implies there are specifically 2 people being referred to.  I think that Zayn is talking being with 1D in the past and not liking his current situation, but I also think he’s specifically talking about his relationship with Liam in the context of being in 1D.  That’s why it seems a bit contradictory at times.

He’s talking about how good things were with the band and about how he and Liam are in a good place now.  People will probably interpret the line about saying sorry as a break up, but I think it could instead refer to Zayn and Liam refusing to apologize for their relationship and how it complicated things with their team.  They don’t regret their relationship despite the hardships.  They’ll fight for their relationship no matter how people try to use it against them.

Too much drugs and alcoholWhat the hell were we fighting forCuz now the whole damn world will knowThat we’re too numb and just too dumbTo change the storyNeither one, one of us wants to say we’re sorry

The first line is another that’s immediately going to make people think of Zayn as a druggie because some people already want to believe that and that story has certainly been encouraged.  However “drugs” could easily just be weed and nothing else.  Or maybe it’s not, but that still doesn’t make Zayn a bad person.  Given the band’s situation, it wouldn’t be surprising if one or more of them turned to weed or alcohol to try to escape from or numb the pain for awhile.  There have also been situations where artists have been “encouraged” into taking things by their management.  It’s also possible that Zayn is mentioning “too much drugs and alcohol” in reference to being disgusted with things going on around him in the industry.

Either interpretation could easily fit with the next line which is clearly frustrated and/or bitter.  Zayn is either saying 1) that despite how much effort they put in, they still don’t seem to be able to win the fight against their team, or 2) that he’s jaded with the industry in general and doesn’t even know what the point of wanting to be in it is.

Given the next lines, I think the former is more likely.  Taken in isolation, the next three lines fit perfectly with the idea that Zayn is frustrated with the narrative he’s been given and how he hasn’t been able to stop it or subvert it enough.  Just read them and think about it.  Talking about the whole world knowing would normally be a hyperbole, but in 1D’s case, the whole world literally does think they know what happened.  People think boybands always fall apart, that 1 member always tries to go solo and hog the spotlight, and 1D weren’t able to change the story, as far as the public is concerned.

If you add the “drugs and alcohol” lines back in, another interpretation is that Zayn and Liam weren’t able to change their individual narratives of being a druggie and having a problem with alcohol respectively.  Liam’s was never taken as far as Zayn’s, but it’s definitely been there in the background the whole time.  In that sense, the whole world tends to expect celebrities to fall apart and get addicted to substances, so Zayn could also be referring to not being able to change that story, as far as the public is concerned.

I’m not sure exactly which interpretation I prefer for this verse, but what I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t just have to be 1) an admission of addiction, or 2) talking about a relationship falling apart.  It does repeat the “neither one of us wants to say we’re sorry” line, which maybe points to the final interpretation more?  I’ll have to think on it a bit more and see what’s most consistent.

Need a chance just to breathe, feel aliveAnd when the day meets the night show me the light Feel the wind and the fireHold the pain deep insideIt’s in my eyes, in my eyes

This verse reinforces the idea that Zayn is not in a good place currently.  Needing a chance to breath normally implies that you feel constantly bombarded and/or attacked.  Saying that he needs a chance to feel alive also implies that he hasn’t been living the way he’d want to recently.

“When the day meets the night” could refer to dawn or dusk, but it could also be metaphorical, asking for things to change and to see something that gives him hope, maybe even the light at the end of the tunnel.  It could be asking for reassurance at dusk when things seem to be darkening, or it could be asking for the dawn to come and light to return.

“Feel the wind and the fire” probably goes back to wanting to “feel alive”.  He does something similar in Befour with the line “numb on a roof, set in on fire, just to give me proof, I’m living on a wire”.  He mentioned being numb earlier in this song and needing to feel alive and then he mentions fire.

The final lines again reinforce the idea that Zayn is going through things that aren’t being revealed to the public.  His entire first album had a motif of being in pain and being silenced and this verse is right in line with that again.  The fact that Zayn says “it’s in my eyes” is sort of like a plea for people to see the pain he’s in and to see his true intentions even though he can’t talk about them.  The eyes are treated as the “window to the soul” after all.  

The fact that Zayn keeps referring to being in pain and being silenced over and over in his songs just reinforces the idea that he’s trying his best to express his pain and therefore he must be being silenced if he’s doing it so insistently and yet in such an oblique way.  If you’re obviously willing and wanting to talk about something, there’s no reason not to be forthright about it unless some outside force is stopping you.

Overall Analysis

Debunking

So the two things that this song will be immediately interpreted as are 1) sadness after a failed relationship, and 2) Zayn referring to his feelings while being in 1D.

The first thing I need to do is show why neither of these interpretations is fully supported by the song.  Yes, we KNOW that the story is BS and that Ziam is going strong, but it’s also good to have other arguments not based on that knowledge.

Both of these interpretations are invalidated mostly by this verse: 

The voices screaming loud as hellWe don’t care bout no one elseNothing in the world could bring us downNow we’re so high among the stars without a worryAnd neither one, one of us wants to say we’re sorry 

For 1), he’s talking about being high among the stars without a worry and that just doesn’t work with a break up song.  If the whole rest of the song is about being sad and longing for things to change, then how do you reconcile that with being “without a worry”?  

For 2) Zayn specifically says “now” when he talks about being high among the stars, which I’ve already pointed out is hard to reconcile with the rest of the song which very clearly says he’s unhappy with the way things are “now”.  Also, the line that says “neither one of us” pretty much makes it impossible to assume the song is entirely about hating his time in a band.  It should be “none of us” if more than 2 people are involved.  Zayn, the guy who wanted to be an English teacher and takes pride specifically in his lyrics, wouldn’t use “neither” for a group of more than 2.  It’s not even an obscure or hard rule that takes an English major to do right.  Most native speakers just absorbed it growing up and know it instinctively. 

The only real way to reconcile that verse with the rest of the song is to assume Zayn is talking about a negative overall situation but a positive relationship.  Yes, technically that could still work with part of the song being about hating his time in 1D, but it doesn’t really make sense to combine the 2 unless his relationship started when he was in 1D and/or was somehow related to his being in 1D.  That means if it’s a song about a negative relationship with 1D, he has to also be talking about having a positive relationship with one of the members, which doesn’t really fit for the people that believe the official narrative.

Another reason that interpreting the song as being entirely about the broken relationship between two people (romantic or friends) is shaky is that there aren’t many circumstances where someone would see one relationship as potentially having wasted all their good years.  That’s something that’s broader than just a single relationship.  The only possible exception is if that single relationship was a particularly long and destructive (i.e., abusive) one, which we can probably safely rule out with Zayn.  Even if you think he and Louis have bad blood, there’s no way it extends past the last couple years or is nearly as destructive as an abusive relationship.  In any case, talking about having wasted your good years should generally be referring to something more comprehensive about your life than a single acquaintance.

My Interpretation

Looking at the song as a whole, that one verse about being among the stars without a worry is interestingly different. The rest of the song only has imagery of negative things, but that stars verse alone seems more positive, although it does have some ambiguous lines.

It seems sort of like a progression to me:

First he’s laying out his sorrow and longing to be away from his current situation.  

Then he goes back and talks about the better times and brings in how his and Liam’s relationship started and has solidified into something they won’t apologize for despite the rest of what happened that they wish they could change.

Then he sort of moves forward a bit in time by talking about trying to fight what led to the current situation, and especially the public perception of the current situation, and being frustrated in what he feels was his failure.

Which leads right back into the current situation where he feels numb, in pain, and wants someone to show him the light, the way out of his current situation.

The first part is the chorus that repeats between all of these parts, reinforcing the sentiment that he desperately wants things to be different from how they are.

There are several themes throughout:

As I’ve said, the main theme is of disliking and wanting to change the current situation.  Zayn repeats it so much I don’t think anyone could argue this.

There are a lot of references that seem to be to crowds/the public.  He mentions a crowd of tears, voices screaming loud as hell (like a concert), and how the whole damn world will know they couldn’t change the story.  This theme is what supports the idea that at least part of the song refers to his career, his time in 1D, and his thwarted desire to perform and have a good relationship with his fans.

Then Zayn’s running theme in his songs of being in pain but not being able to let people know because of outside forces returns here as well.  There’s the obvious references of only seeing tears when he closes his eyes and holding the pain deep inside, but there’s also the reference to “fighting for” something, presumably to be able to change the story, which could easily be referring to the official narrative being fake and something he dislikes.

The style, construction, lyrics, production, and delivery of this song all point to this being a plea from Zayn.  It’s an expression of his pain and growing sense of hopelessness but also an entreaty for things to change.

That’s how I see it anyway, and I think the song is internally consistent with that interpretation.

This song is sort of like the other side of the coin to “Golden”.  If my interpretation of “Golden” is accurate, it’s a positive and loving song that’s reassuring the listeners that 1D will be together again on the other side of all this mess.  This song, in contrast, is the doubt and fear that has to come along with waiting, enduring hardship, slander, and separations, and not knowing for sure that things will turn out the way 1D is hoping they can make it turn out.

[ship-ambrosia]

Silverlight (RWBY) - Chapter 2

Chapter 2! This fic literally my life rn besides school...

Link to the fic on AO3: Chapter 1

  It wasn’t something she absolutely hated, but she shifted uncomfortably under the gazes bearing into her. Normally, going into bars were nothing to her. Maybe it was because this one was crowded with people she didn’t know. Maybe it’s because she wasn’t searching for her mother this time. Either way she was sure the faster she left, the better.   Was it that obvious she didn’t belong here? Did they all think she was going to try to bust them? She was in the heart of the black market, but she wasn’t stupid. Any wrong move and there’d be seven knives and hatchets pressed to her back. Still, she thought it was pretty clear she was a Huntress and that none of them would be stupid enough to go toe-to-toe with her, but she didn’t particularly want to test it.   She approached the bartender and sat down on one of the stools, resting both arms on the counter in front of her. Slowly, the older woman standing behind the bar cleaning glasses moved over toward her with an interested expression. The busty, crimson-lipped bartender gave her a once over and her smile appeared more amused as she tucked a loss strand of burgundy hair behind her ear.   “Doll, aren’t you a little young to be here?” She asked with a sultry voice.   “I get that a lot. Heard this is the heart of the town. Just here to ask something.”   “You’ll get an answer depending on what it is you want, sweetie,” there was an ominous, daring tone to the woman’s voice now, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.   Still, she knew to play coy. “I don’t know why everyone’s so suspicious of me. Just looking for someone selling a bike around here. Working condition, I don’t have time to fix her up.”   The bartender looked her up and down once again, some coldness disappearing from her expression. “We’re just not very fond of people who come around carrying themselves as righteous as you do. But if you’re just here for the business, I think I’ve got something for you. Heard there’s a man on the north end of town who’s got his hand on a nearly brand-new motorcycle. No questions asked where he got it, and it’s yours. Provided you can pay.”   “I don’t think that’ll be an issue. Thanks for the tip, Miss... uh... sorry, I never caught your name.”   “Mathilda,” she answered with a smirk, a sultry gaze fixated on the young Huntress in front of her. “Mathilda Applegate. But don’t go thinkin’ just cuz you’re cute that you can name drop me all over town, sweetheart.”   “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she saluted the older woman with two fingers as she got off the barstool. “Thanks for the tip, Mathilda. Hope I see you around!”   With that, she took one final look around the bar before pushing the door to the outside back open with a bright yellow arm that caught the bartender’s eye for the first time.   “That must be the Branwen Clan’s girl,” the older woman mumbled to herself as the door closed behind the girl with golden hair.   Yang blew out a breath as the doors closed behind her, taking a moment to stretch before continuing on with the information the bartender had given her. If there was no bike, she was going to be really freaking pissed. The whole situation made her miss BMBLB more than anything. Though she could hardly say that she regretted the actions that had befallen her beautiful bike - running over a psychotic terrorist who had tormented her best friend for years and had caused her disability was wonderfully therapeutic - she did regret other things that this was reminding her of. Therefore, the faster she got a new ride, the better.   Her scroll went off just as she had started her trek to the northern side of lower Mistral. Yang walked with a carefree attitude, but unlocked her Ember Celica just in case anyone thought it would be a good idea to jump her while she was distracted.   “Hey sis, what’s up?”   “Oh, nothing. Just wanted to check up on you. You’ve been gone for a bit now.”   Yang laughed. “Ruby, it’s only been a couple days. I think I’ll be okay.”   “I know I know, if anyone would, it’d be you,” her sister replied. “General Ironwood said he wants our ship to Vacuo leaving as soon as possible, though. He doesn’t know we’re only waiting on you.”   “I mean, if he’s going to make a big deal about it, you guys can leave and I’ll catch up. Or just a few of you can go.”   “You know we don’t want to split up again unless we’re forced to,” Ruby said with a downtrodden expression.   Yang felt a sense of nostalgia and guilt twisting in her stomach at that. Though she was perhaps the only member of Team RWBY to pick up and leave everyone behind after what happened at Beacon, Yang knew that mentally, she’d been gone. Ruby had left with Jaune, Ren, and Nora because Yang had not been ready to go with them.   “I don’t want to split up unless we have to either,” she mumbled, before her expression became sunny again. “Listen, I think I’ve found a guy. As long as the bike’s in working condition, I’ll be back on the train to Argus by tonight! Doesn’t that sound great?”   “Yeah, but Yang...” Ruby squinted her eyes on the small screen. “Where are you?”   “In Mistral?”   “That doesn’t look anything like when we were there before!”   Yang glanced around herself before offering a sheepish smile. “I miiiiight be in the bottom levels of the city... where Qrow told us never to go...”   Her sister’s eyes grew wide. “Yang! He told us not to go there because it was dangerous!”   “I know, but where else was I gonna get a bike? Besides, I think I’m okay,” The tone of her voice portraying the actual meaning of her words, I don’t think anyone is going to mess with me, and I’m going to leave as soon as I get the bike so that I don’t test it.   Ruby sighed. “Okay Yang, just... be careful. Please.”   “When have I ever given you a chance to worry?” She offered in a sort of playful tone, watching as her sister’s expression darkened once again. There were plenty of times. Guilt sunk in Yang’s stomach again as she almost found herself sunken back into her memories. Before she could be completely swallowed, however, a sudden commotion behind her caught the blonde brawler’s attention.   “Yang? What is it?” Ruby asked, though her sister did not hear her. Yang had put her scroll down to her side as she turned, where she saw a small group of men huddled around an alleyway. As she watched, one of the men raised a gun to the sky and fired off several warning shots.   “C’mon kid!” The man was laughing. “If you don’t hand everything you got over, we’ll just have to take it from ya!”   “Pretty boy shouldn’t have anything on the bunch of us,” said another within Yang’s line of vision, warming up his fists by hitting them together in a similar manner to her. When he did, she could see sparks from electric dust come off his bracelets.   A familiar sensation made its way to the surface from inside her, of hitting thugs where it hurt when she was just starting out fighting. Of dueling her mother’s bandits on her search for Ruby and the others. Of being tricked and lied to, over and over again by people who just didn’t care about others. She remembered looking into the gray eyes of a man who had lied to her, who had used her, who had turned everyone against her and turned into a damn puppet and laughed about it the whole time. She remembered how much she really, really hated that feeling and her eyes went red.   Were these guys some slimy Huntsmen? Or just low-lifes who got their hands on Huntsmen weaponry? Yang guessed to the latter, since this was the area of notorious black market deals of Mistral. That’s why she was here, after all.   “Yang! YANG!” Ruby was still calling from beside her. She rose her scroll back to her face. Her sister looked concerned. “What’s going on?!”   “I’m fine Ruby, but I gotta go! I have to help him!” Yang explained quickly.   “Wait, don’t-“ she cut Ruby off by hanging up on her and stuffing her scroll back in her pocket. Taking off by letting out a blast from both her Ember Celica and the gun on her prosthetic arm reminiscent of the old days, Yang went flying at the men laughing and firing intimidation shots into the sky.   So much for laying low, echoed in the back of her mind, but as Yang swung her fist at the first asshole she came up on, she remembered that laying low had never really been her style. ~   It had been longer than 24 hours since leaving Salem’s palace, and what a quiet few hours it had been. Mercury wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. In that time he’d bounced between taverns, keeping his ears open as he listened to the mumbling between tavern drunkards and sketchy shopkeeps for any jobs that caught his fancy.   He had to start from scratch. He wasn’t going to ride on what he’d done for Salem and Cinder, and the idea of using Marcus for legacy left a bad taste in his mouth. That meant he’d need to take the dirtiest jobs he could find, the ones that not just any assassin would take. He figured becoming a regular mercenary wasn’t a bad idea either, since all he knew was how to fight and he saw no point in limiting himself further. Anything that gave him a new reputation and a neutral place in the world, and made it clear that no one could mess with him.   Every voice that triggered a memory made him jump though, every flash of red, green, or gold made him freeze. He was so freaked out at the prospect of being recognized that he hadn’t been able to sleep. This was the life that he was leading now, and he knew he’d have to get used to it. A fake sense of freedom while he ran from everything he had left behind. Mercury was glad he’d remembered his money in his haste to leave Salem’s palace, after getting himself some food and restocking supplies of dust and ammo that he loaded into his greaves. An assassin caught without his weapons was a dead one, though he knew he could overwhelm anyone with his kicks he didn’t want to risk it. Especially with so many people after him.   He was just leaving the shop, and glanced up toward the higher levels of Mistral along the side of the mountain when another familiar caught in his ears. It rattled in his head, causing his breath to catch in his throat.   “Thanks for the tip, Mathilda!” Called the worst possible voice he could hear right now, even worse than Salem’s. “Hope I see you around!”   Mercury whipped around, looking for the source of the voice. Had he imagined it? Was he literally so paranoid at this point that he was hallucinating? If he was going insane though, he could handle that. Anything was better than actually running into anyone. Than running into her.   But then the flash of gold caught his eye. There she stood, a hand on her forehead to block the sun from her eyes as she looked around. Blonde hair just as wild and free as he remembered. Same clothes, with a purple bandana tied around her leg that should’ve given away that it was her. But what really convinced Mercury was the lemon-yellow paint job on her prosthetic arm.   He stood, frozen, for some time, staring at her as if he couldn’t believe she was real. He was staring with his mouth agape too, and vaguely saw people giving him odd looks as they passed by. They probably just thought he was perverted or something, which was perfectly fine by him. Anything was better than being spotted by her.   What was she doing here? Why was she in Mistral? The last thing he knew about her and the others, they’d been in Atlas. They had already gotten the Relic from Haven - he’d chosen to hide in Mistral over Vacuo for that exact reason. Because he knew they wouldn’t be here. What the hell was she doing here?   Mercury finally steadied himself, and backed away slowly. He noticed she had started to walk in the opposite direction with her scroll up to her face, speaking to someone, and he breathed a sigh of relief. This was it, he thought as he watched her form moving further away from him, her golden hair getting swallowed by the crowd of loners and mercenaries. This was his escape from the old life.   But you could ask her why.   The voice was so sudden, so unexpected, that Mercury looked around himself, expecting someone to have crept up behind him and whispered in his ear. When he found no one, he realized that voice was his. The traitorous Mercury had returned, the one who had kept reminding him of her and her arm before.   Before he could even wonder what it was that he wanted to know, it struck him. Before he could even think about what he was doing, Mercury was moving swiftly through the crowd toward. He shouldered people out of his way, just barely holding on to the last he could see of her golden hair. It was as if his feet were moving on his own as he drifted behind her. He couldn’t make out who she was talking to, but he caught some of the words.   “-Listen, I think I’ve found a guy. As long as the bike’s in working condition, I’ll be back on the train to Argus by tonight! Doesn’t that sound great?”   So she was in Mistral looking for someone, and the rest of the team was in Argus. What were they doing back in Anima though? Had Ozpin directed them there? If so, he was incredibly stupid. Going back to Argus was just as predictable as going to Vacuo. Salem would surely go after them there. At least he knew now to stay as far away from Argus as he possible.   “In Mistral?” He heard her ask as he got closer, still keeping distance to prevent her from noticing him and to keep anyone from noticing that he was following her. He had garnered some of his senses by this point, remembering that he needed to be inconspicuous. The question sounded less like an inquiry, however, and more of an effort on Yang’s end to answer whatever the person she was talking to had asked; a coverup, if Mercury had ever seen one.   Finally, he made out the voice on the other end of the call, and Mercury ducked into a nearby alley after realizing how close he was to her.   “That doesn’t look anything like when we were there before!”   Of course it was Little Red, the irritatingly hyper leader of their team and her younger sister.   “I miiiiight be in the bottom levels of the city... where Qrow told us never to go...”   He heard her sister begin to whine in protest, but Mercury was suddenly knocked to his knees from a blow to the back of his head. Stars covered his vision for a moment from the impact as his entire body was immediately on edge, sense of survival alerting him instantly to a group of people having now surrounded him. In a burst of adrenaline, Mercury whipped his body around so that he had a better angle to defend himself from. He finally shook the stars out of his eyes and faced the group above him.   On instinct, he took them all in. Five people, four men and one woman holding what appeared to be a modified falchion. A gunshot went off in his ear, but no pain registered to him. Mercury looked down to his legs, but saw no bullet hole. Instead, the bastard with the gun was just standing there, grinning down at him with the barrel raised to the sky, smoking from his warning shot.   “That’s an awful fancy pair of boots you got, sweetie,” the woman with the falchion purred. “Mind if I have a look?”   “C’mon kid!” The first man laughed when Mercury didn’t reply. “If you don’t hand everything you got over, we’ll just have to take it from ya!”   Mercury geared up into a fighting stance in response, glowering at the thugs from behind his messy gray hair.   “Pretty boy shouldn’t have anything on the bunch of us,” spoke one of the other men, who slammed his fists together. The bracelets around his wrists crackled with electric dust, but what really got Mercury was how much that pose reminded him of the girl he’d been tailing. He shook his head though, pushing her to the back of his mind. This wasn’t about her anymore. This was about his survival on the streets.   A warning shot, huh? What a group of morons.   Mercury lunged forward at the nearest adversary, a third man holding a surprisingly vanilla knife. They were just a bunch of wannabes. They couldn’t hold a candle to the real deal. The knife collided with the armor covering his bicep, and all he could do was smirk at the dumb expression on the man’s face as Mercury swept his feet out from underneath him, and then spun around and nailed him in the cheek with his other boot. As the man went flying, he turned around to face the others.   “You should’ve taken the shot and gotten the upper hand on me when you had the chance,” he mocked, lifting his leg into the air and cocking the pistol in his boot. Before he could take his own shot, a deafening, high-pitched yell echoed back from the main street and sent chills down Mercury’s spine.   A flash of gold erupted in front of his eyes, brilliant and blinding and the combination of the worst possible thing he could imagine in that moment. Her own gauntlets went off as her fist collided with the man holding the gun, sending him flying in a similar manner to what he’d done to the man with the regular knife. Mercury didn’t really know why, but he froze when he realized she’d come to help him.   “Hey, leave him alone you freaks!” Yang exclaimed, before turning her gaze toward where he stood in the middle of the group. “Are you okay ma-“ he watched her eyes grow wide, shock and fury increasing by the second as recognition fell over her. “Mercury?!”   Unsurprisingly, she had come to his assistance without knowing it was him.  He wondered if she was going to regret that punch in the long run. He sure was.   Mercury lifted his chin up in her direction, offering her the same smirk he’d given her when they reunited at Haven Academy. He wasn’t quite sure what was possessing him, but he couldn’t stop smiling.   “How’s it going, Blondie?” ~   The wind that whistled through the valley and the cries of the nightmare creatures being birthed of the pools of tar around the castle were the only noises around as Emerald entered Salem’s throne room. She disliked the palace’s grand view very much, especially since Salem had never fixed the shattered glass windows. Her hair whipped around as she stepped forward, getting down on her knees.   “You wanted to see me, your Grace?”   The witch turned around when she spoke, looking down with indifference toward her pawn. No, at this point Emerald had become at least a Rook. Cinder was the Pawn now. And the loss of one of her Knights greatly displeased Salem.   “I did, yes,” she spoke in that soft tone, the one she used when appealing to her conspirators’ needs. “I wanted to talk to you because it has come to my attention that Mercury has left. You two are rather close, aren’t you? Did he tell you where he was going?”   Emerald faltered, shifting awkwardly. “No, he didn’t say anything to me. And we aren’t that close,” she looked down toward her feet. “We worked together because we both worked for Cinder. And then, you.”   “I can tell when you lie, Emerald,” Salem sounded displeased, but not angry. “You care about him.”   “Only because he’s some of the only family I’ve had. You and Cinder are more important to me.”   “Good,” Salem’s voice came from right above her now. Emerald hadn’t even realized she had been walking closer to her. “I’m glad to hear you say that. Because I have reason to believe that our poor, dear Mercury left with the intention of running away from our cause.”   Her eyes widened at her mistress’s words. “No... no, there’s no way! There’s no way he would walk away from this!”   Emerald immediately flinched, years spent with Cinder instantly reminding her that to speak disbelief, to argue even with the older woman’s best interest in mind was inviting punishment. But Salem did nothing. When she looked up toward the witch, Salem was almost looking at her with pity.   “I’m very sorry to be the one who tells you this,” there was no sympathy in her voice though. Salem, physically, didn’t have the capacity for such a thing. “But Mercury Black has fled. He not only forfeits his place in my world and the desires I would have gifted him, but he has also forfeited his life. I will not be sending you after him, as I have more important things for you to accomplish and I feel that my Grimm will find him soon enough, but you must understand Emerald... if you were to run into him out in the world of Remnant, you are to kill him.”   There was another silent moment of horror as she took in Salem’s orders. She had worked with him, ended up trusting her back to him. He was some of the only family she’d ever had. But at the same time, the news of his abandonment burned an anger within her unlike anything she had ever felt before, even after she believed Cinder had died. When she had been doubting their allegiance, he had scorned her. Insulted her. And he’d constantly made fun of her for caring about Cinder all the while before. Now he had left her alone.   Salem was right, she realized bitterly. Mercury was either with them or dead. He didn’t get a choice any other way.   Emerald closed her eyes and bowed her head very so slightly. “Of course, your Highness.”   Salem stopped at the tone of her voice, turning around toward the young woman with a smile.   “Very good.”