#fictional civil war

[reallyunluckyrunaway]

haha, guilty..

[wizzard890]

And I saw another beast come up out of the earth...and he spake as a dragon. (Revelation 13:11)

.

The Coronation of His Majesty King Bastian I - The Hour of Wolves

When he was born he was a small thing. A screaming infant, a second son, destined perhaps for military greatness, but never dukedom. Never inheritance. Never conquest.

But at the inception of the light, the birth of the world, the moment between silence and splendor when The Glory breathed across the scope of creation: he was no small thing then.

Even then, he was coming.

His rise runs with blood: knives in the back, poison, betrayal, kidnapping and vengeance.

His rise burns with greatness: glory, family, rescue, love and ferocity.

The secret world recognized him before he knew himself. A fairy witch marked his passing and offered her slender wrist for his talons. A dead sun opens its mouth for him, a vanished Christ is his counterpart, a death knight worships before him, a raven-haired little girl holds the hand of her doting and beloved father.

The world we know calls him king of France, the monarch of a seized throne, a general who has promised the great lords England on its knees.

The Devil, in his own tongue, may call him son. The Glory has said nothing.

Would you know him if you saw him? Would you recognize what he is?

Bow, while you consider, and kiss his ring. There is a crown of flame upon his brow.

[oneofthetorturedpoets]

505

based on 505 by the arctic monkeys.

(not proofread)

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

you walk down a darkened street, only thing to light up the sidewalk you walked on, is one flickering street light. you look to your left, across the road.

how'd you end up here? out of all places, what lead to here? you knew what it was. it was your thoughts. too busy thinking too notice were your mind was taking you.

you turn to look both ways before running across the street. you look up at the opened sign before opening the door. the classic ding, ringing in your ear.

"you need a room?" the man at the desks asks as he sits up.

"uh yeah... for the week" you step closer to the counter.

"any specific floor?"

"yeah actually, do you have room 505 open?" he clicks around on his computer, you tap your foot, impatiently.

"we do, can I get your name and your payment?" you dig in your front pocket for your wallet.

"y/n y/ln" you toss your cash on the counter. he inputs your info into the computer before taking the cash.

"alright, you're all set, here's your room key and the wifi password. enjoy your stay."

you walk down the parking lot, like deja-vu, you look up to see '505' printed on the door. you insert the key, opening the door. the smell of the room bringing you back to your thoughts from earlier. you look towards the bed and could almost see Natasha laying there on her side. you blink and the image is gone. you should've known she was going to haunt you.

-

"here's the key, our room is 505. i'll grab the bags" Natasha says before jogging to the stolen car. you sigh before walking down the parking lot, reading each door as you pass. you find the room and open the door just as she's shutting the car door. you hold the door open for her as she slips in, dropping your bags to the floor.

"it's nice" you try, she nods shortly.

"yeah, hopefully we don't get bored of it." she walks over to the bathroom area, taking off her jacket at the same time. you follow, grabbing the jacket before she tosses it to the floor. she smiles shyly at you. you look down at her blood-stained white tank top. she goes to pull it off but flinches. you urgently step forward.

"let me, nat" you lead her arms through the holes and slowly pull it over her head, revealing the dirty gauze on her side. you reach for it, pulling it off as gently as you could. "it looks infected." you comment. you lead her into the small toilet area and push her to sit down on the lid. you grab the motel towel and get it damp before starting to clean her wound. you try to ignore her staring.

"you think they followed us?" you shake your head.

"no, I saw them crash."

-

"how long do we have to stay here?" nat questions as she paces back and forth, her phone close to her ear. "are you serious? what about food and the payment for the motel?" she sighs "alright, ill talk to you soon, bye" she throws her phone on the bed, she sits by it.

"how long are we staying?" you lean on her, she lightly rubs your head.

"5-7 months."

"as long as its with you" she smiles tiredly.

-

you lay facing Natasha as she sleeps, trying to memorize every detail of her face. its been two months into your hideout, you've fallen for her. you both had no other choice but to get to know each other, going from strictly co-workers to something that has to be more than friends, you're not sure.

Natasha begins to stir, knocking you out of your thoughts, she opens her eyes, smiling she meets your stare.

"goodmoring, detka." she mumbles, before stretching out her arms. she goes to get up but you pull her back down. she inches away, close enough to kiss. her eyes flash to your lips, back up to your eyes. she leans in, laying her lips on yours. you lean into her, putting as much passion you could into the kiss. she melts into, kissing back harder. she climbs on top of me, one hand on my check, they other on my waist. she lightly pulls my hair, then pulls away.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for so long” she laughs as she talks.

“so have i” she just stares at you for a while, running her hand along your check, laying kisses on your neck.

-

weeks after your first kiss, you were confused by the situation. you guys didn’t mention the kiss, it was like it never happened.

Natasha sits at the desk, typing on her computer. you watch as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, focusing on what she was writing.

"Natasha" you call out, she doesn't respond. "nat" she peaks over her shoulder. "can we talk?" she nods and closes her laptop. you watch her walk over to you, sitting next to you.

"what's wrong, baby?" you turn to face her.

"what are we?" her eyebrows pinch in confusion.

"what do you mean?" you shake your head.

"you know what I mean, nat... you kissed me and its like you forgot about it. I just want to know if it meant something to you." she grabs your hands, gently squeezing them.

"it did mean something, im sorry for not clarifying my feelings for you. I've been in love with you since the start of this mission, I couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else. If you would take me, I want to be yours." you can't help the smile that spreads on your face.

-

now five months into your mission, Natasha is getting antsy.

"I don't think I can be in this room any longer, I feel like I don't have any space away from you." Natasha said exasperatedly.

you knew what she was saying because you felt it too. every time you too disagreed, there was no where for you to cool down. you both felt trapped. "Natasha-"

she interrupts your sentence. "shut up. I can't stand to hear you talk. just- let me use you for tonight." she walks up to you, pulling you into an mind-breaking kiss.

that's how most of your nights ended. her using you for her own pleasure. not that you minded, necessarily.

-

"you two are good to leave, please make your way back to the compound as soon as possible." both you and Natasha sigh in relief.

after you two pack up the little things that you had, Natasha grabs both of your hands. "I promise to be better to you when we are out of here. I know I haven't been what you deserve but when we are able to have our own normal lives, things will get better."

you smiled gently at her. "I know, my love." you kiss her, trying to show that you forgive everything.

-

"I just need space for a few more days, baby. I swear it's nothing you did, it's just- the whole hotel and all of the time we spent together nonstop, I just want to have a few nights for myself to recuperate." Natasha said as she shut the door to her room.

you two went from spending every waking second together to only seeing each other passing in the hallway. it didn't feel like you two were a couple anymore. you couldn't even remember the last time you two had kissed. it felt like 5 months you two were dating, didn't mean anything to her.

-

you show up at her room door, you knock a few times. "Natasha, it's me. we need to talk." the door slowly swings open, revealing Natasha in a white robe, looking as beautiful as ever. her curled red hair laying just below her shoulders, her green eyes holding your world. this is going to hurt worse than you thought.

"hey, y/n. come in." she moved over, creating space for you to walk past her. when you did, her perfume took over your senses. "is everything okay?"

you shook your head. "no, nothing is okay. why do I feel like I'm losing you? I mean I get that the months we had in the hotel were rough, I felt it too, but why does it feel like you don't even want to try to have a normal relationship? it feels like we're back to were we started." Natasha grabs your hand.

"i'm so sorry I'm hurting you, y/n. I just- I don't think I can do the whole relationship thing. the time we shared together was amazing but I think I realized I can't do it. commitment scares me and I don't want to do anything to hurt you more." with every word she says, it feels like your heart is being ripped from your chest.

-

after the break up, the team took Natasha's side. you had obviously expected that, they were closer to her than they were to you. what you never expected was the way they treated you.

every time you entered the kitchen and they were there, you got at least one dirty look, almost as if you did something wrong. Tony took everything he has given you away, including your dresser, night stand and bed frame. Steve has gone ten times hard on you during your sparing sessions. Bruce has refused to fix the hole in your suit, causing many malfunctions during battle. Clint has outright cussed you out, yelling at you for 'hurting' Natasha. Thor was the only one who was nice enough to ignore you.

you weren't sure what hurt you the most, the fact that none of them ever asked what happened, they just assumed you hurt Natasha and deserved to be punished or the fact that Natasha never corrected them.

-

it's now been a year since Natasha broke it off with you and you're still haunted of her. as you sit in the same hotel room that changed your life. since the break up, you have since quit the avengers, you felt more like a prisoner than a friend to all of them. you have been on the run from them for a few months now, since they declared you a fugitive.

you're not sure why you're back here. you thought you had moved on from Natasha. the whole in your heart half way patched up. as you sit in the old chair that was sat in the corner of the room, you stare out the window, watching as the rain starts to pick up. you see a figure just outside, in the middle of the parking lot. you slowly stand up, peeking out of the blinds as you watch it walk forwards. as it inches closer, you recognize her curves, the same ones you spent every night studying. you open your door, the wind slightly catching you off guard. Natasha finally close enough for you to see her face.

"what are you doing here?" Natasha says, you scoff.

shaking your head. "I could ask you the same thing... how did you find me?"

she chuckled. "I didn't mean to. I think we are here for the same reason. I'm running from the law now too." hearing her voice hurt more than you thought it would. "do you mind if I stay with you? I don't have any more money for a room, I figured id just break into one and stay for a night... but if you don't mind, I think it would be easier?"

you contemplate for a minute, your gut is telling you not to let her in, but you do anyways, slowly moving over for her to come in. she walks in, sighing at the warmth. she takes her jacket off, about to throw it on the floor but you take it from her before she can. the deja-vu making your stomach turn. she smiles at you, innocently.

"you know... I've missed you. I really have. when I found out you left, I felt like I really lost you." you roll your eyes at her statement.

"you lost me a while ago, Natasha." her eyebrows raise at your hostile tone.

she looks down at her feet, almost nervously. "I know, and I regret that night everyday. I was stupid to let you go."

she steps closer to you, clearly holding herself back from reaching out to you. "Natasha" her name came out more pathetic than you wanted, as you hold back tears.

"detka, I am really sorry for the way that I was. I swear I took this time to reflect on how everything played out and I am embarrassed for how I treated you." you turn around, not wanting her to see you cry. you brought the sleeve of your long sleeved shirt, up to your eyes, trying to stop your tears from falling. Natasha turned you back around, gently grabbing your hands, holding them. "you deserve so much better than how I was... I know I never said it before but I love you. with every inch of me, I love you. you have set my world on fire and I stomped it out because I was scared of how much I loved you. please, let me make it up to you." all of your tears seemed to fall at once as you practically fell into Natashas chest, looking for the comfort you never had.

-

taglist: @natashamaximoff-69 @allamanamedearl @ricejucie @marvels--slut

to join the taglist, send in an ask!

[girlchomp]

the older i get the more batshit insane the post civil war mcu fandom seems. like. hang on

the UNITED NATIONS: please stop invading foreign countries

team cap: no actually im gonna take my private militia into other countries and how DARE u try to stop me im doing this for ur own good

team iron man: uhhhhh i think we should not be allowed to kill ppl with no oversight. soz, do you wanna maybe like, amend the agreement, or-

team cap: i am going to KILL YOU with my BARE HANDS

and then the whole of team cap fandom basically universally went "the only way this would be acceptable is if tony was working 24/7 to ensure the accords worked for cap" LIKE THEY WEREN'T CONSTANTLY VIOLATING INTERNATIONAL LAW WITH THAT SHIT????

[kaitlinamberxo]

“Don't do anything stupid until I come back.”

kaitlin's 100 favorite fictional muses — 9/100: Bucky Barnes

[gardenofchrome]

I’m am dying for more combiners to be shown in Transformers media. But not just any combiners- I would like to see combiners with a sibling like relationship. Who panic in their combined form if a limb gets ripped off because they know that one of their siblings got hurt and seek revenge for it, kind of what Thundercracker is doing for Skywarp in the Skybound comics. Even in their uncombined form they take care of each other.

[celestialseawitch-ff]

The Age of Magic

The Age of Magic

Rating: T Characters: Harry Potter & Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Natasha Romanov, Length: Unknown Warnings: child abuse, mentions of torture (canon), trauma, PTSD. Summary: Tony Stark never expected it to ever happen. He never expected to get the call one day that an illegitimate child of his had popped up on the radar. He especially wasn’t expecting to find the kid had been terribly abused and mistreated. The most shocking part of it all was finding out that his kid — his son — was a wizard.

Because apparently magic is real? Links: Blog | Ao3

[rogersideup]

Nice to be kneaded

Chapter 13

Cardboard Castle

Series Masterlist

Previous part: Homecoming Next Part: Cinnamon Roll

Word count: 6,205

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions of medical equipment, loss, abuse, PTSD, anxiety and depression.

After a short overnight shift at the Bakery, you went home to change clothes then snuck your way into Steve's house for a surprise. Walking in always felt invigorating as if you were committing a crime, but his house key on your key ring told you and the cops otherwise.

You tiptoed up the stairs and slowly opened his bedroom door to find him sound asleep. The sight of him laying on his stomach with his arms above his head and his face squished against the pillow made you smile and your heart melt. The framed picture he had added of the two of you on his nightstand since he had been back in Greenwood also made your heart melt.

A peaceful, content Steve had to be one of your favorite sights in the world, but so was a happy Steve so you were more than okay with sitting next to him and rubbing the bare skin on his back to wake him up.

Your hand made its way from the center of his spine, up and across his shoulder blade, and onto his shoulder before giving him a firm squeeze and a kiss on his temple. He calmly stirred awake, and his furrowed eyebrows relaxed when the smell of your perfume resonated in his head.

"Good morning, Baby." You said before running your fingers through his hair.

A smile spread across his face before he threw one of his arms across your lap, and shoved his face into the side of your hip. There was a few additional moments of processing time before he lifted his head and squinted his eyes from the bright light shining into his room. "Hi" He mumbled.

You giggled at his lack of energy. "Hi"

"What time is it?" He asked, voice hoarse and raspy.

"7:15"

"Oh shit I slept in"

"That's a good thing, Honey." You leaned over to give him another kiss but on the cheek this time.

"How was work?" He mumbled, turning into his side to see you better.

"It was good, definitely nice to be back. The girls were asking about you, by the way." You grinned. "I know you've met some of them already, but I think they all want to meet you."

"Okay, let's go right now." He yawned before rubbing his face with his hand.

"No," You laughed. "Not right now."

“Why not?"

"Because I have some big plans for us today, that's why I came to wake you up." You explained.

"Big plans?!"

"Yeah, I was hoping you were free to hang out with me for the day."

"I can right now but I'm busy later" He told you, enjoying the head massage you were giving him.

"Oh yeah? What are you doing later?" You questioned with a smile.

"I have plans to take this really pretty girl on a date." He informed you.

"Oh really? Who?"

"You!" He enthused.

"Me?! I can't!" You denied.

"Why not?" He pouted.

"I have plans to take you on a date later!"

Steve's pout turned into a smile. "Well this is awkward then, isn't it."

"Well I asked you first"

"I think I asked you first" Steve challenged.

"I think you should surrender and just let me do what I have planned." You suggested.

"But I think you should let me do what I have planned. Do you see the issue here?"

"Okay, so what's the compromise?" You asked with a chuckle.

"Let's split the day, 50/50."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Deal, but I get to go first because I'm already dressed."

"That's fair." He agreed, sitting up fully this time. You selfishly took a moment to appreciate his shirtless body, it never failed to captivate you. "What are we doing first?"

"We're going on a run." You smiled wide.

"A run?!? With me?!?" His eyebrows raised.

"I can explain." You started. "I was thinking last night about how you've spent so much time here learning all about what I like to do, but we haven't spent a lot of time doing things that you like to do. So I thought we could go on a run together, then after you can teach me how to paint something. It'll probably just be a brisk walk on the trail for you, and I'll definitely suck at painting but-"

"That's so sweet," Steve smiled unconsciously. His arms wrapped around you and smooshed your body against his. "and so thoughtful"

You laughed as he attacked your face with kisses. "I think I've gotten better at running since you left, so maybe it'll better than last time we went running."

"Even if you got worse and I have to carry you the whole time, I'm still going to have fun." Steve giggled.

"Great, you're very easy to entertain." You smiled.

"What can I say? I enjoy the simple things." Steve agreed.

You eventually got him out of bed and the two of you set off on a redo of the first five mile run along the trail. But this time, all of those lonely mental health runs from your time after the blip came in handy, and chasing after Steve like it was fun game for you as if you were a toddler that needed to be convinced, the five miles was over in no time and the smile never left your faces.

When the five miles was over he gave you a two handed high five way above his head that you had to jump to reach, and in retaliation you jumped onto his back and made him carry you over to the second part of your date which was in the grass field. It was just as beautiful as the picture Steve painted of it for you.

Thick blanket below the two of you, with water colors and paint brushes spewing about, you sat and painted with him for hours. He taught you simple techniques that increased the quality of your art tenfold. Together you painted flowers and plants, then with a timer going, you started two different paintings and swapped them every ten minutes, adding to each others art until the pieces were complete, then lastly two separate paintings that you kept a secret until you revealed them to each other when they were done.

You painted him a picture of the field so he could have his own version of the painting you loved so much, and he painted his absolute favorite art subject, which was you. The entirety of the time you had spent with him today, you swore he never stopped smiling. You wondered if his cheeks hurt, and you vowed to do this with him more often, as often as you possibly could.

One valuable lesson you both learned the hardest way possible throughout knowing each other, was that time was the most precious gift they could have. Though quantity was the goal before Steve was absolved of his crimes, both of your lives have completely changed.

Pretty quickly into his stay back in Greenwood, you both realized the weird leash your unlabeled relationship had was removed and now you were both free to explore the deeper parts of if that you could never reach before. Quantity of time was in abundance, so quality was the new goal.

Steve was very mindful of the lack of label between the two of you. He was also very worried about the new situations at hand. There was distance, actual real commitment, and the lack of an un-promised tomorrow meant that the vulnerability to really get to know each other on a deeper level than before was important to making this work. A small part of him had a huge fear that you wouldn't find all the hard parts of this new dynamic worth it anymore, and that dating him as Captain America would be way harder than the role he played before as your mysterious neighbor.

But he was fully committed to you, and he knew he was willing to move mountains and jump thousands of hurdles to make this work. He was also committed to erasing the doubts Georgia scribbled into his mind.

Steve's thoughts always moved way too fast in every single direction for his heart to keep up with, and you knew that about him. Every situation he thought through had an unrealistically amazing outcome, or his entire world would end up crashing and burning, and there was never a middle ground.

So, at this moment, you'd either end this four weeks loving him so much that he suffocated, or he'd be leaving Greenwood heartbroken and drowning in his own sorrows.

Would you open up to him? Would you never want to be his girlfriend? Would you shut him out when things got hard? Would you risk everything for a life with him like you did for your last ex? Would you tell him what actually happened between the two of you?

But when you were mindful of him and were so sweet as to go on a run and paint with him for hours on end, he couldn't help but to feel hopeful for the future. A future where you were both the priority, and there was a perfect middle ground to his big city avenging and your small town baking. The happy medium where you both lived the lives you always deserved and wanted, but again, you weren't even his girlfriend yet.

When you we're both satisfied with the amount of paintings created and we're creatively fulfilled, everything was packed up and put back into your car and the two of you made it back to Steve's place.

In attempts to wash off the remnants of paint on your arms and the five mile run off your bodies, a steamy shower was shared but not a lot of washing took place and not a lot of water was saved. But, it was still better than any shower you could've possibly taken by yourself, and you were left feeling blissfuly refreshed.

When you got out and dried off, you were brushing some product through your wet hair when Steve came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your stomach and peppered gentle kisses on your neck.

"Are you ready to hand date duties over to me now?" He questioned, also feeling blissful and happy as could be.

Leaning back against him, you set the brush down and held onto his arms, "Sure thing. What should I wear?"

"What you have on is perfect!" He enthused.

You giggled as you gazed at your bodies in the mirror. He was wearing sweatpants with no shirt on, and you were in sweatpants and a black tank top. No makeup, no bra, and your hair was wet and un-styled from the shower.

"Perfect for what? Public indecency?" You smiled.

"Nope." He popped the P. "First order of business is nap time."

"Nap time?!"

"You, pretty girl, woke up at 2 in the morning, worked until 7 am, ran five miles, painted, and I'm pretty sure what we just did in the shower accounted for another five miles. So, we're going to take a nap." He explained to you.

"But that cuts into your date time, that's not fair." You reasoned, but touched he was taking care of you.

"Cuddling is my favorite thing in the whole world, and sleeping is yours. I think this is a win win, and a perfect date activity for us" Steve giggled. "Plus, how are you going to have any energy for more fun if you don't rest for a little bit?"

"You make some very convincing points, Honey."

"Exactly!" He agreed. "Plus it's my turn to call the shots so, get your booty in my bed!"

"I'm not going to say no to that" You put your hands up in surrender.

You guys got in and snuggled up, Steve put on your favorite comfort show, and you made yourself cozy. Head on his chest, hand on his stomach, and one of your legs hiked up onto his hips. He rubbed your back and held onto your arm, leaving an occasional kiss to the top of your head.

Eventually you both fell asleep for a little while, and like two peas in a pod, you both woke up around the same time. So cozy and warm, neither of you wanted to get up and disrupt the tiny sanctuary that was your bodies fully relaxed into each other. But he was hungry so he knew you must've been starving at that point, so way more food than the two of you could manage was ordered and the cuddle fest was relocated to the couch while you ate and watched a movie.

Once he could tell your energy level was back up to normal, the real date could begin.

He grabbed your hands and pulled you up off the couch onto your own two sock covered feet. When he prompted the change of activities, once again you were concerned about your choice in outfit, but he once again reassured you that it was perfect. But it was getting a little chilly out so you both did cover up with some hoodies.

He led you to his garage door and stopped you right before he opened it, grabbing not one, not two, but three rolls of duct tape.

Steve handed one to you, and you were throughly confused. "Duct tape! Is this the part where you tie me up and kill me?"

He barked out a laugh before shaking his head. "No, nothing like that." He stepped aside and motioned for you to open the door.

You could tell he was feeling a little nervous and shy, and every time he showed he was still a bit shy around you made your heart swell. It really was the sweetest feeling knowing he cared so much that the thought of doing something for you made him nervous.

You slowly opened the door and stepped through, a big smile turned into a puppy dog pouted lip. The garage was cleared out of everything but strings of fairy lights neatly hung on the ceiling illuminating the room with a warm glow, his record player and the stand in the corner with all your favorite records that you often listened to together, and the big stack of cardboard he never got rid of.

When you fully made it inside, you looked back at him. His expression was hopeful that you actually understood what he was getting at, but he still wanted to explain.

"I've fully accepted that I won't be needing these boxes to move out of Greenwood anytime soon." He explained. "Do you remember that one night when you came up the driveway and invited me to Georgia's?"

"Of course I do" You nodded, trying not to cry over the fact he had remembered such a small and stupid comment you had made. "I was sad because I thought you looked lonely and Georgia was making me feel lonely by saying I needed to start dating again."

"And you remember what you told me I should do with all the boxes?"

"Yeah" You giggled. "I do"

"For you, my princess, we are going to make the coolest, fanciest, most regal cardboard castle to ever exist."

"You are absolutely unreal." You giggled and shook your head. "This is the cutest, most precious thing anyone has ever done for me."

"That's crazy because this is just a stack of boxes and a few rolls of duct tape." Steve shrugged, downplaying the gesture.

"No it's not." You denied. "You listened to what I said, and you kept all these boxes even though we didn't even know each other that that point. You took a chance, you thought about doing this with me, and you're keeping this place in this tiny town you have no reason to be in. This is not just tape and boxes."

"I always knew we were going to build this castle together." He explained.

You wrapped your arms around him in a big, tight hug and rocked up on your tippy toes to give him a kiss. "Thank you, I love you."

"I love you too." He grinned. "Let's get to building."

Time wasn't even a mere thought in your brains as you went at the castle in the most logical ways you could think of. The requirements were that it had to be tall enough to lay under, and it needed to stand up on its own. It turned out that both of you made a great team, you both had good ideas, and communicated them flawlessly.

When it was done, there was a very well spoken sense of pride, but the work was nowhere near done. The sun had set a long time ago, but the nap really did come in clutch as you filled the castle with blankets and pillows while Steve lit some candles far away from the cardboard, put the needle on the record, and flipped off the main light.

It was just you, Steve, twinkling lights, and the slow and quiet music spinning on the turntable. Your heart was full as the two of you settled into your creation and enjoyed the hard work it took to build it, but Steve was a little anxious over the conversation he knew he wanted to have with you that night.

But like every single time he felt anxious, you made him feel better.

In the cardboard castle, he shared stories about going to space and visiting Wakanda. You told him all about what your life was like when you lived in California. He told you what life used to be like back in the early 1900's when he worked as a paper boy to put himself through art school, and how different it was was when he woke up 66 years later.

For the first time ever, you felt comfortable enough asking him the questions you've always had since learning about him in school. You were cautious with the way you worded each one, and he appreciated your empathy, but he was happy to answer and even happier you were comfortable enough to ask in the first place.

Surprisingly enough, you had questions about his time in the ice. Why he decided to stay in the crashing plane rather than jump ship, if he remembered anything from being frozen, if it felt like he was really unconscious for 66 years or if it felt like no time had passed at all.

Then, he started asking questions about you. Your childhood, what your parents were like, what you did for fun when you lived in the sunshine state.

You told him all about the beach 10 minutes down the road from your childhood home. How the winter and fall was still pretty warm and the rain would only visit for a few weeks out of the year. He learned that California had beaches, mountains and desserts all accessible through a few hours in a car, and how that made for a very nice change of pace on long weekends.

His head filled with visuals of the flower fields you visited every spring, mountains blooming with wildflowers and poppy's if the state had gotten enough rain over the winter, strawberry picking and orange groves. Days at Disneyland, night swims under the moon in heated pools and decompressing from hard shifts at work in hot tubs under the stars.

It all sounded incredible, and it all gave him a better idea of how you were shaped into who you were as an adult.

Two trips were planned together in a two hour long conversation, one in two months for you to visit New York. He wanted you to get a proper tour of the compound this time, and he wanted to show you around the city and where he grew up in Brooklyn. The second one being California, you hadn't been back in years, and he had only been on business. It would be an equal exchange in hometown visits, he was impatiently excited for both occasions.

"Did your Mom ever used to bake?" You asked Steve, is head was in your lap while you sat up with your legs in front of you.

"Yeah, she actually did as often as she could." He reminisced. "But recipes were so different back then. During the Great Depression there wasn't much assess to things like sugar and eggs so people would make all sorts of things with what they had. Oh, and she was a nurse so she didn't really have much time."

"So you're telling me that your mom was single handedly raising you while being a nurse, and still maintaining a household in which she cooked and baked?" You questioned in amazement.

"Yeah, she did a lot." Steve confirmed. "And I was always sick, so it's not like I was the easiest, lowest maintenance kid in the world to take care of."

"She sounds like a superhero." You smiled, playing with his hair. "It must run in the family."

"She was definitely a superhero, no doubt about it." He agreed.

"What was your dad like?"

"I don't know much about him, he died when I was super young" Steve explained. "I know he was an Irish soldier, and he met my mom in the infantry in Ireland during World War I after he took a bullet. I don't think he was very nice to my mom but that was something I kind've gathered myself through context clues, she never wanted to talk about him."

"Can you blame her?" 

"Absolutely not." Steve shook his head gently. "What about your parents? What's up with them?"

"Compared to your parents mine sound so boring!" You smiled. "My dad was a cool guy. He was a photographer, and a videographer for a news station for longer than I was alive. That job got him around to cool places and cool people. Everywhere we went there was always someone around who loved my dad for a different reason."

"And he was a good Dad?" Steve asked.

"Oh, the best." You smiled. "He was at every school recital, every graduation, every milestone of my life. We hung out together all the time."

"I know he passed a few years ago, but can I ask what happened?" He questioned more cautiously this time.

Georgia's words were working their way through his mind again, he wondered if you were going to tell him that your mom had been blipped.

"Alzheimer's" You answered. "It was a fast, aggressive type. Some kinds are slow moving, people can last fifteen, twenty years after diagnosis. But my dad was diagnosed, and not even a full year later he was gone."

"I'm very sorry, that must've been hard."

"It was, but I'm glad he didn't have to suffer through it for very long. I think the longer something so degenerative has control over every function of your body, the worse it is to have to live through it." You explained. "I think losing him was a big factor of why I decided to move here. I needed somewhere new, somewhere I could go without being constantly reminded of the lack of my Dad."

"That makes sense"

"Do you feel that way about Brooklyn?"

"Brooklyn looks so different now, it might as well be a whole new place." Steve reasoned. "Very few of the buildings are the same, but the bones are still there and it's just enough to make me feel at home, but not enough to make me feel like the ghost of everything I once knew is lingering around me."

"That actually sounds really nice" You pondered.

"It is" He confirmed. "And what about your Mom?"

"My relationship with my mom has always been a little complicated." You explained. "She was a stay at home mom that didn't really understand healthy boundaries. I think she cared more about me becoming the perfect wife and mom rather than me becoming self sufficient and successful on my own. She couldn't understand why I was focusing on putting myself through business classes and culinary rather than investing more time in my ex boyfriend who also wasn't very happy in my choices. I love her, and we had our good moments, but shes of that old school mindset that a woman's only purpose in life is to serve her husband and pop out children. She wasn't very happy with me for a while when I finally got out of that relationship, and I don't think I ever found it within myself to give her forgiveness for that."

"That does sound very complicated." Steve agreed.

"She uh... she was blipped." You told him cautiously, not wanting him to feel guilty about it. "I'm glad I got to see her when she stopped by on her road trip, but even when she came to the bakery it's not like she thought it was something to be super proud of. She would much rather I be in a miserable relationship with kids than a business owner."

"I'm so sorry." He reached up and took one of your hands.

"Thank you, but it's not your fault. You don't have to be sorry." You reminded him.

Thought no part of him was happy that you lost your mom, he was happy that you shared that with him. It was a step in the right direction, and a direct he was trying his hardest to guide you towards.

He nodded in understanding. "Do you want kids?" He asked realizing he had never asked you that before.

Then, he noticed it. Your posture, facial expression, and mood dropped ever so slightly. It was as if there was an emotional reaction to that question that you had become so good at masking it was now a visceral response. "Of course I do, but I want to have kids with the intention of raising them well with all the love I possibly can, not just because I feel like I have to because I'm a woman."

Steve knew kids were a touchy subject for a lot of women, something as simple yet complex as your own relationship with your Mom could've been the reason you reacted that way. It wasn't something that passed without a second thought in that moment, but he was happy to hear that kids were something you wanted regardless.

"What about you, Stevie?" You asked, playing with his hair one handedly now. "Do you want kids."

"Mhm" He nodded. "I don't know how many though. I feel like that's something I'll just kind've know when it happens."

He looked up at you as you smiled down at him, he was perfectly content and he could tell you were too. "I feel that way too, but I definitely don't want more than three."

"Any more than three seems like cruising for constant chaos" He agreed. "You know those people that pop out like fifteen kids?! I don't know how they do it."

"Now that seems like a nightmare" You giggled. "How could anyone even afford to send that many kids through college?"

"Well I think they start by living in a cardboard castle, it's a really good chance to put some money into savings." Steve pointed out.

"Are you kidding me, Baby? Nothing about our castle is affordable or an opportunity to save money. I think this lovely estate can sell for about 1.5 million." You noted.

"In Greenwood, maybe. But in New York, I'd say at least 4.6 million."

"That's true, real estate is really dense in the city. The market is crowded." You agreed.

"Cost of living is way too high" Steve laughed.

"Okay so, in New York we can have two kids, but in Greenwood we can have three." You reasoned.

His heart skipped a beat at your statement, it took a lot to resist the urge to clutch his chest. Wanting kids was one thing, but already imagining a life in which you had kids with him was another. Now more than ever, he knew you were as committed to him as he was to you. "Smart, good thinking."

There was a slight pause in conversation, but as Steve looked up at you, he could see a question on the tip of your tongue. You opened your mouth to ask it, then chickened out and closed it again.

The hesitation made him smile before reaching up and poking your cheek. "What's up?"

You giggled that he caught onto your lack of bravery. "Have you... thought about what this is going to look like now that we don't have a time constraint?"

"Only every waking moment of every single day." He admitted honestly, making you feel comfortable in your choice to ask the tough questions.

"Have you come to any conclusions in all of that time?" You chuckled at his response.

"Yeah, lots of them." He confirmed.

"Care to share with the class?"

"Well, the biggest and most important conclusion I came to was that our time apart was miserable for me, and it definitely confirmed my suspicions that my life without you in it is no longer a viable option." He spoke, his shy disposition flooding back. "Of course, only if that's okay with you."

A gentle heat bloomed in your chest and crawled up into your cheeks, you had forgotten how it felt to be wanted. "Absolutely, that's more than okay."

"How about you? What have you...concluded?" Steve questioned, sitting up from his comfortable spot in your lap to have a more serious face to face setting.

"Pretty much the same thing. It was really sad not knowing if or when I'd ever see you again. I missed you a lot. But..." You took a moment to find the courage to express your fears.

"No. Don't say but. Buts are scary." Steve shook his head.

You laughed at his reaction and took his hand in yours once more, hoping your touch would relax his fast being heart over the inclusion of the scariest word you could've muttered. "But... I'm worried."

"About what?" He questioned, squeezing your hand for comfort.

"Real life." You stated. "You're Captain America, and as much as I sometimes forget that, I can't be as ignorant as to forget that your due diligence is states away. My business is five minutes down the road. Both of those things are as equally important to us, and I don't know how we can make sure we can still have those things while also keeping us afloat."

As far as buts go, that one wasn't too scary. "You know Hawkeye? He's an Avenger and he lives in Iowa. Ant-Man is in San Francisco, T'challa was in Wakanda, Tony in Los Angeles and New York, Thor isn't even in the same realm as us 90 percent of the time." Steve reassured you.

"But Steve," You shook your head. "Avenging aside, your home is in Brooklyn. Your heart is in Brooklyn. Sure, maybe you don't have to be in New York for your work, but what about for you? Could you ever be happy away from your home?"

"If being a fugitive has taught me anything, it's that I can plant myself anywhere I want and find happiness all around me." He reassured you. "I've put a lot of thought into this too, by the way. I know I can leave the compound, and right now more than ever I think is the best time for me to take a step back from the Avengers. We haven't given up hope that we can get everyone back, but you saw the compound, the energy is... bleak. The one thing I can't leave behind is Nat. We're kind've the only family each other have, so I came up with a solution."

"What's the solution?" You asked, enjoying the way his big hands massaged your smaller ones.

"I'm thinking that I want most of my time to be here with you in Greenwood, because this is where I'm happiest. Then if any of the Avengers need me, I can go to New York for business trips. Maybe once every few months just to check in and make sure Nat isn't losing her mind, and reassess what our plan is on the blip."

"You're sure?" You questioned again. Nothing could've stopped your brain from thinking of the time your packed up everything from the city you once knew to follow a lover here to the small town. Though you didn't regret it because Greenwood was now your home, you did know it was a big choice.

"Positive." Steve grinned. "I can't just abandon this incredible castle we've created together."

"That's true, we worked really hard on this." You agreed.

"As hard as we worked on this stunning estate, I think we've worked even harder on our relationship and it would be an absolute shame to not reap the benefits of our effort."

"I love you, Stevie." This time you squeezed his hands.

"I love you too." He grinned. "Though it feels a little stupid to ask you this now, I was wondering if you'd officially be my girlfriend?"

Though you couldn't contain the smile on your face or the heat from pooling in your cheeks, you still couldn't stop yourself from making a joke. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm not quite sure where you got the idea that we're more than just friends?"

His hopeful face fell into a fake pout and furrowed brows. "Maybe it was forty five minutes we spent having s-"

"Ooookkkaaayyyy" You barked out a laugh, blocking out his worlds.

"-in the shower today." He lifted his hand to wag his finger around to further prove his point. "I don't know about you, but I've never done that with just a friend."

"You've never shared a nice, steamy, soapy lather with Bucky? Not even Sam?" You blinked innocently.

Steve fake gagged causing you to laugh even more. "You're crazy!" He shook his head.

"Of course I'll be your girlfriend." You finally agreed, feeling bad for keeping him on his toes. But not bad enough to kill your smile. You got up as much as you could to seal the title with a long kiss, and a big engulfing hug. "But..."

"Again with the buts!?" Steve complained.

"Only if you'll be my boyfriend." You bargained.

"Oh, no. Sorry, I'm definitely just your good pal." He denied.

"Damn." You sighed, letting him go. "Maybe next time"

As you settled back into your spot across from him, he pulled a little velvet jewelry box out of the side pocket of his sweatpants. You had a very small moment of panic as your mind ran four steps ahead of what was really happening, but Steve didn't even need to see your wide eyes before doing some situational control. "I know how this looks, but I promise it's not that." He finally looked up and you puffed out a breath alongside a giggle. "T'challa and his sister, Shuri heard me telling Bucky about you on a call a few times before Thanos came along. They wanted to help me do something nice for you since you were always kind and generous to me, so this is what we came up with."

He handed you the little velvet box, and you opened it carefully. Inside was a dainty gold necklace with a beautifully simple sunflower charm on it. "Awwww it's so beautiful!"

"I know it looks like it's gold, but it's actually made of vibrainum like my shield is so it never breaks. I think Shuri painted it somehow because you usually wear gold jewelry." Steve pointed out. "And if you gently squeeze the sunflower, watch what happens."

Your put the sunflower between your thumb and forefinger, before applying slight pressure to it. Steve stuck out his arm to you, and that's when you noticed. The inside of his watch had a sunflower etched in on the back panel, and whenever you squeezed the charm, it illuminated in a soft golden glow.

"That's incredible" You marveled, feeling so touched and quite frankly, a little unworthy of such a gift.

"I can do it too!" He grinned before pressing a tiny button on the side of his watch, causing a golden glow from your sunflower. "This way when we find ourselves apart, we can send each other a quick little glow to say hi, and you'll know I'm always thinking of you."

"This is so thoughtful, I love it so much." You basically threw yourself at him for another hug.

"I love you so much." He rebutdtaled, holding you close against him.

"Will you help me put it on?"

"Absolutely" He smiled.

You both let go and he looped it around your neck, his big hands struggled with such a tiny clasp but he got it.

"It's so beautiful. Thank you so much, Buddy." You joked since he never confirmed he would be your boyfriend.

"You're welcome, Girlfriend." He giggled, big cheeky smile.

"Pal..."

"Best friend!" He nudged your shoulder.

"Bestie for the restie..."

He laughed once more before kissing you. "Boyfriend."

"...Boyfriend." You kissed him back.

Next Part: Cinnamon Roll

Tag List: @patzammit @bemysugarbean @happinessinthebeing @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @differenttyphoonwerewolf @themotherof10 @lokislady82 @talesofadragon @spikeluv84 @xxxalicerogersxx @avid-fic-reader-05 @royalwriteroftheuniverse @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bitchy-bi-trash @crazyunsexycool @openup-yourmind @selella @kattreffic @benedict-squirtle @magnificentsaladllama @natashassandwich @theroyalmanatee @calwitch @avengersinitiative2012 @rogersbarber @daddywattpad4945

[strangelittlestories]

"I don't want to fight you." The first knight said - both their lip and their muscles quivering.

"I don't want to fight you either." Said the second knight - various parts of them were also quivering but not unattractively so.

"But it looks like we have to fight." Said the first knight. "Because of our irreconcilable but equally valid moral outlooks."

"Yes," said the second knight, "it looks that way."

They looked at each other and in that look was sadness, but also defiance and a little bit of excitement.

"You're a really good knight."

"So are you."

"Maybe after all this is over - if we both survive - we could take the armour off and cuddle?"

"I'd like that."

When the two of them fought, the earth shook. And, despite the falling rubble and gasps of the local populace, they each thought that the ground trembled just for them.

[revoltedstates]

My debut Civil War novel, Year of Crows, is now available in paperback and ebook via Lulu, Amazon Kindle, Apple Books, and wherever fine books are sold. Or "name your price" via PayPal (brendanchamilton[at]gmail) and I'll email you an epub doc directly.

Cover design by Robert L. Kroening.

[driveintheaterofthemind]

Vintage Pulp - Saucy Romantic Adventures (July1936)

Art by Norman Saunders

Fiction Magazines

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Runnin' Roughshod"

Pairing: Bucky x black female Reader

Rated: Explicit

Tags: civil war, westward expansion, homesteader Bucky, Black!Fem!Reader, slavery, historic AU, forbidden romance, interracial relationship, racism, period typical attitudes, brothel, prostitution

A Bucky x Black!fem!Reader historical AU fic that I decided to bullet point for funsies, and then wound up writing half of the damn thing that way 🙄

You're a slave living in 1860 Missouri, just outside of St. Louis.

You're the property of (and half-sister to) Master Lewis. Lucky for you, Master Lewis Senior is dead, and Lewis Jr.'s young bride Darcilla is kind and agreeable, with progressive notions that she brought along with her trousseau when she came from Maryland to wed Master Lewis.

Life is very good for you, compared to some others. You work in the house, as lady's maid to the new Mrs. Lewis (who insists you call her Ms. Darcy), and sometimes help in the shop in town.

The Lewis's own a handful of other slaves who help run their household and dressmaker's shop, but since the death of your mother you've had no family (well, except for Master Lewis, though nobody counts that). You do your work and keep to yourself. Sometimes you make a little money at the dress shop, which Mistress Darcilla lets you keep behind her husband's back.

You save up every penny, but buying your own freedom is a far off dream. Your whole life, you've never seriously contemplated running away. It isn't worth the risk.

But when tensions in the county begin to rise and you hear rumors of secession, you grow worried. You begin to squirrel away what valuables you can, gain the trust of your mistress, and bide your time.

With the uncertainty of war brewing, Master Lewis announces his plans to move the family deeper south. You can no longer afford to wait. You have to get out now, before your one and only chance is lost forever.

Your money gets you as far as Topeka, where you're forced to stop until you can earn enough to join a wagon train out West. You find work at a saloon, serving drinks and making flirty conversation with the men who come in for a good time.

In the mornings, you begin to learn the piano from "Old Freddie," and during the occasional slow afternoon, Madame Lapierre, the French woman who governs the "upstairs" girls, will play a game of chess with you whilst she tries to make headway in convincing you to "expand your employment opportunities."

Topeka is Free-Soiler territory, but there's always the fear that Master Lewis might find you. And, on the verge of statehood, the Kansas territory has tipped into increasingly violent conflict between anti- and pro-slavery settlers. With conditions worsening and all out war looming on the horizon, you have no guarantee of safety there anymore.

Desperate to raise the funds to go West more quickly, you tell Madame that you're ready to start selling more than drinks and conversation. You become her newest "poppet" prepared to do whatever it takes to get out of town before your luck - and your freedom - run out.

You've never been with a man, but you know the rudimentary facts of life, and with a little help from the other girls and Madame, you prepare to become just another "sporting girl."

Your first afternoon on the job, a roughshod rider comes into town, seeking lodging, drink, and the sort of "company" that you're there to provide.

The white girls get first dibs on clients, but the roughshod asks for you to be sent up to his room. You wish he wouldn't have. Not because you want to put off the inevitable, but because now the other girls will be nasty to you. The man is handsome, and the girls were all eager to get their hands in his pockets.

You're shaking in your boots, but Madame gives you a shot of whiskey, a spritz of her genuine French perfume, and a tiny pewter snuff case for "wetting the way," (whatever that means). She tells you to put it in your bosom and use it "when the time is right."

Terrified but determined to see it through, you head upstairs to the roughshod's room.

It does not go as you expect. First, he demands to know if you're working there of your own free will. You admit that he is your very first client - which you regret doing, because his face goes even stonier when you do. He barks out orders at you, insisting that you leave the room at once and fetch him the house's tub.

He wants a bath - a hot one! - and with soap, and a towel!! You're very happy about that, because it costs a whole sixty-five cents more, and it will also mean extra time spent with you, which leaves you with even more money in your pocket at the end of the day. You're still nervous, but elated at the luck you're having on your very first client!

The other girls are stewing in the hall with jealously and make snide comments about your race and the man's preference for you. They refuse to help you prepare the bath, but you don't care one lick. That's just more time the roughshod will be paying to spend with you, while you haul bucket after bucket of boiled water up the stairs.

Madame catches you in the hallway and tells you not to mind the other girls. She's a bit drunk on sherry, and she jokes that at this rate, you'll probably only have to spread your legs for two or three minutes! (God, you hope so).

The man is filthy, and he's hurt - as though he's been in a fight or fallen from his horse. He asks you to help bathe him, and you get started with your heart in your throat. His manners are as rough as he is, but he isn't mean to you, and he doesn't try to grab you, which is a relief. With shaking hands, you proceed to wash him.

This is your first time touching a naked man's body, and you try not to look down into the bathwater as you wash him. You're embarrassed, but it's not just nerves; seeing and touching such a handsome man has you warming as though you've downed another three shots of whiskey.

You squirm and fight not to let the roughshod see your flusterment, as your belly tightens with the familiar, but never indulged, feelings of lust.

The roughshod stays in the bath until the water's gone gray and cold. You kneel beside the tub and wring out the cloth, but squeak when, all at once, the man heaves himself up to standing, the water streaming down his body and his ... his Johnson right at the level of your face!

He grunts and swings his leg out of the tub - exposing all of his manhood jostling around not even two feet from your face as he does so! You blush and look away, but you can feel him staring at you as he grabs up the towel and dries himself off.

Surely, you think, now he will ask you to take off your clothes and join him on the bed. You know only the basics of what goes where for the act, having witnessed clandestine coitus a time or two in your life. You wait, unable to look up at him, as you expect to hear his gruff voice order you about. And it does.

"Get up."

You stand, trembling. But what he says next isn't what you're expecting: "You know how to rub a man's muscles?"

You look up at him. He's got the towel in hand, making no effort to use it to cover himself. Then again, you think, why should he? You're just another painted poppet (or, soon to be). "R-rub what?" you stammer - quite idiotically. Of course, you know what muscles are. ... You're just not sure if he's using the word as a ... a euphemism.

He rolls his eyes and brings the towel up to dry his hair. "Knew I should'a asked for the China girl," he mutters.

You clear your throat and look steadfastly at his face. "You're hurt," you say, because you've seen every part of his body now, despite your efforts to keep your eyes trained North. And you know he's got bruises all on his legs and back and sides.

The roughshod nods and abandons the towel to the floor. "Yeah." He's not a talker, but you get the impression he's waiting to hear something from you.

You struggle to think of what that might be. "I ... have ... rubbed my mother's shoulders, when they hurt her. Um. And her feet?"

If you're not mistaken, the man's mouth twitches up the barest bit, beneath his beard. "Eh," he says, then turns around, presenting you with his - very manly - ass. "How bad can ya be?" He walks towards the bed, waving you along without looking back. "Well c'mere then."

He climbs up onto the room's bed and lies down, face in his arms. "What're you doing?" he grumps. "I said get over here."

Swallowing thickly, you hurry across the room. With his back turned, you have less trouble letting your eyes rove over his naked body. His back is broad and muscled, going from impossibly wide and tanned shoulders, tapering all the way down to his slim hips and his pale ass. His thighs are hairy and---no. You force your eyes true north again, looking at the bruises that you're increasingly starting to suspect came from a beating. "What happened to you?" you ask.

His head stays pillowed in the crooks of his arms. "Get up on the bed," he grunts. "Sit on my ass and I'll tell 'ya what to do."

Your eyes all but bug out of your head, when he tells you to straddle him. You do, your skirt rustling as you move and get up on him. You're hesitant to put your weight down, but he huffs and tells you to sit.

"Speck like you ain't gonna feel any more'n a feather. Sit."

He talks you through giving him - what he deems a "goddamn lousy" - massage. He grunts whenever you press on his bruises, pained, but once you get the hang of it, he at least goes quiet and doesn't complain anymore, so maybe you're not so horrible at it after all.

You rub his shoulders, his neck and back; your belly coiling tight once again, filling with a swooping feeling at having his warm skin and hard muscles underhand, at the feeling of his body held between your legs. You worry that he somehow knows how you're reacting, but you don't speak and neither does he.

When he eventually groans from pained-pleasure rather than pain, you can't help but smirk triumphantly. You keep expecting him to roll over and declare the massage over and demand for you to touch his Johnson, but that keeps not happening (though he does groan a little more).

You check the clock and see that it's now early evening. The light outside is almost gone. You worry that he's lost track of time and might refuse to pay for the hours he's spent with you, which will get your wages garnished.

So, tentatively, you slide your hands down to his thick waist, the swooping feeling intensifying at watching all the muscles in his back tense and shift underneath the skin.

"Why'd you stop?" he grunts.

"Are ... are you sure ..." You hesitate, not knowing how to seduce a man.

"Spit it out," he says, annoyed.

You lick your lips. "Well I just ... it's been awhile now and ... Are you sure this is all you want?"

"It feels good," he snaps, voice muffled in his arms. "That's what I'm payin' you for, ain't it?"

His uncharitable response should make you relieved, but instead it just leaves you worried and confused. Are you not seductive enough? Is he going to complain to Madame once he leaves here?

You need to speak up, take action, or else you may be in trouble. "Mister," you say, "I--"

"James," he grunts. "S'my name."

You pause, surprised that he wants you to use it, since he doesn't seem to like you very much. "James," you try again. "I want to make sure you're ... um ... getting your money's worth?"

He's silent and still, then drawls, "You don't sound too sure about that."

FOLKS THIS HAS BEEN OUT OF HAND FOR AWHILE NOW. LETS GO BACK TO AN ACTUAL FUCKING OUTLINE:

He has you lie down on the bed, and he regards you tenderly and seems like he's going to finally do it, but his face goes sour when you nervously reach your hand for his Johnson, and he tells you he doesn't need anything else.

"That's enough." He rolls away, comes back with a dollar bill, hands it over and gruffly tells you to go over to the mercantile and buy him a fresh shirt.

Relieved and yet somehow also terribly disappointed, you do so. When you return, his hair is tied back and he's got his pants on again.

You expect him to dismiss you, but he tells you he wants your company in the downstairs, too. He takes you down and the two of you eat and drink together at his behest. As it's now evening, the other poppets work on men nearby, shooting you jealous looks every so often.

James slowly opens up to you, engaging you in conversation over his dinner. You can't help but talk back, the conversation coming naturally and your shoulders relaxing. James is much more likeable after a whiskey or two, and the two of you even laugh and joke together. He decides to teach you a dice game, and the two of you have fun well into the evening, until he goes back up to bed -- alone.

Madame is drunk and very proud--because the roughshod actually pays for the entire time! In one fell swoop, you've made a handsome sum! You begin to hope that soon you'll be able to buy your way onto a wagon train and go West!

But the next day, your fortunes change.

A lawman shows up with none other than Mr. Brooks--Master Lewis' most trusted slave. Brooks tells the lawman that you are the one he's looking for. He has your papers to prove Mr. Lewis' ownership!

Being only tenuously free territory, the lawman has the say so on what happens to you. Just when it looks like he's going to hand you over to Brooks, the roughshod comes downstairs. He claims you're his property and that your name is Pearl. He has no proof, but says that's because he bought you from a 'chief down in Indian country' (the Oklahoma territory).

One of the white girls calls out that that's not true: you work there.

It seems that the lie won't work, but when the lawman asks Madame if that's true, Madame says your name is Pearl and you showed up with the roughshod the other day.

The marshal decides to trust the word of a white man over Mr. Brooks (who looks very angry indeed). He brandishes the papers and promises to come back with Master Lewis.

With no time to spare, you make haste. You have to leave town now, no matter the fact that you don't have the money to make it out West. You stuff your things in your bag and leave with the wages you've earned.

Outside, the roughshod grabs your arm and pulls you in. He demands you tell him the truth, since he stuck his neck out for you.

You confess everything--running away, your plan to set out West for San Francisco. You fear that he's had a change of heart and will take you to the lawman, but he gets stern-faced again and gruffly tells you to come with him back to his home with him.

You're confused, but he is bossy and all but forces you back to his homestead with him. There, he informs you that, after getting into a "scrape" with some locals himself, he has to leave. He offers to take you out West with him, and part ways in California.

You agree.

Sometime, months later, in California:

The country is at war, but it feels far away from where you are now, as do Master Lewis' chances of ever finding you again. James has hope that the North will win and slavery will be done away with, when the two of you arrive in San Francisco. You make him breakfast, and ask: "What now?"

He gets quiet for awhile. "Woman like you?" He says, chewing the last bite of a biscuit. "Sews, can play chess, hard worker, beautiful, and you cook like this?" He sticks his tongue in his cheek and looks away for a moment. When he looks back, there's false cheer in his eyes. "You're gonna make some man a fine wife someday."

You inhale deeply, fighting to keep the sting of that comment from getting to your eyes. "But not you?" you finally say, once you've gathered the breath - and the courage - to do so.

The false cheer bleeds to sadness, fond and regretful, and he shakes his head softly. "No Darlin'. Not me."

(spoiler alert: you wind up together with a happy ending anyway)

IM SORRY IT'S TWO AM WHY DID I DO THIS I NEED TO SLEEEEP 😩

(Will def be writing (more of) this fic in the future though!)

[curatorofthisdigitalmorass]

CIVIL WAR (2024)

[browsethestacks]

Remember When... Archie Did Every Genre?

[edwinboothhamlet]

GOOD MORNING! Elizabeth here.

I would like to share with everyone a snippet of my actual, literal book. So basically, I have this comic (it's in the works) And this book is the spin-off story of one of the characters. Yes the comic is about time travel and yes it does have historical figures in it.

This story is NOT my Lincoln assassination/Davy Herold story that's on AO3, just warning you.

Most of the characters in this original book are obviously my own. This is taken from a scene I designated for the second half of the book!

@lorephobic just in case you wanted a look at my writing when it's not about said historical blorbo, my friend

IT'S UNDER THE CUT! THank you!

Miss Fanny Monday annoyed me greatly. Since the war, everything and everyone annoyed my frazzled mind, and it was exacerbated by the death of my president. I despised everyone and everything under the sun- mainly because everyone and everything I had truly loved was dead. Here they expected me to carry on with my life and get married as if I hadn't witnessed six hundred thousand of my countrymen die.

The person I hated most was Fanny Monday, and I was going to marry her.

It was not her fault. It was not like she wasn't a very pretty girl. She had mousy brown hair and a slender frame. She had big brown eyes with long eyelashes, and was very tiny. No more than four feet ten inches.

Fanny talked too much. She talked from the moment I met her, when I was still just a boy, unknowing of the horrors of the world. She had a high-pitched voice that squeaked when she was excited, which was often. I regret to say it now, but I despised her for it. She was so frivolous and girly, a regular flibbertigibbet, who wore frilly gowns so large they took up the doorframe. They practically swallowed her. not one of them went untouched by bows. Bows on her dress, bows in her hair, and they irked me.

She never had anything important to say and she never said anything important.

Fanny Monday was a stupid, oblivious, tooth-rottingly sweet girl, full of cheerful high spirits. Her head was full of air and her voice was full of laughter.

My mother called her a sweetheart.

And I hated her. Yet she was going to be my bride.

Fanny Monday came to visit the estate on a crisp December afternoon. My fiancee and her family were staying until the New Year, to my dismay- her family was just as awful. I stood miserably in the snow- when was I not miserable?- and waited for her, praying she would slip on the ice when she stepped out of the carriage.

Hopefully she had caught a winter chill.

[misforgotten2]

A book you very likely don’t have on your shelf #678

1971