#go forth with the confidence of a mediocre white man

[always-coffee]

My darlings, a moment.

Take the word “aspiring” out of your bios. YEET it into the sun. Never speak of it again.

Do you make art? Write? Take photographs?

Congrats! You’re an artist, a writer, a photographer.

If you create, you earned that fully.

[morticious-delicious]

He used to brag about getting rejected 700 times, THIS WAS WHY. THIS IS IT ROB.

Anyway may you all go forth with the confidence of a mediocre white man

Cable drawn with a single, central nostril

Cable #75 (2000) art by Rob Liefeld

[moneymasnn]

Can we have one with mason where y/n and mason hate eachother but have to sleep in the same bed together and one thing leads to another if u know what I mean😳 and mason ends up confessing his feelings 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Druken Mistakes| Mason Mount smut

Gif by @mountsmason

blurb: After being forced to share a room with mason, you both end up making one huge druken mistake.

notes: I haven't proof read this so don't judge guys. Lemme know if you want a part 2 xx

warnings: smut ;)

“Listen I’m really sorry guys, but it’s one night. We can get you separate rooms tomorrow, I promise” says Ben, pinching the top of his nose bridge.

“I’ll sleep on the reception sofa" you say before Bens huff interrupts you.

“Y/n? Come on, seriously stop acting like a child. It’s one night, it’s my wedding tomorrow so don’t ruin it for me by kicking up a fuss. please?"

“Okay, fine” you roll your eyes and look up to mason standing next to you, he was unusually quiet.

“Mase? Im really sorry mate, its just one night” says Ben with pleading eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry mate. Your getting married in the morning you have enough to worry about”.

Conveniently the hotel had double booked the rooms of the maid of honour and best man, that just so happened to be you and mason.

It was around 10pm at night, you were cold and standing in a huge, fancy reception hall, your grip tight on the handle of the small suitcase beside you. Being told you would have to spend the night with mason is the last thing you needed to happen tonight.

Ben scurried off to go find his mum before he goes to bed, all the stress of marrying the love of his life tomorrow I suppose. Mason was stood at the desk getting the key to our room.

It was a long and quiet elevator ride, until you spoke up.

“You better not try anything mount-“

“I wasn’t planning too”

“Good. Because if you think I’m going to end up having some cliché mediocre sex with you just because we are maid of honour and best man then you are completely wrong.” You huff, once again gripping your suitcase handle.

“My abilities in the bedroom are far from mediocre, daring”

You felt your cheaks heat up at the comment, as mason smugly walks out of the elevator with a smirk on his face. I hate him.

He swiped the card on the door to a gorgeous manner hotel room. However, you could only see one towel, and one robe and, and... there was only one bed.

Of corse there’s only one bed. What was I expecting, bunkbeds? This can't get any worse. I need a drink.

“I can sleep on the floor” mason says, snapping you out if your gaze.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We can just stuff a pillow in the middle of the bed”

Mason just awkwardly laughs and sits on the bed, his back up again the headboard as he sits on his phone.

You sit at the desk and pull out the hotel phone.

“What are you doing? Who you calling?” Calls out mason.

“Room service, going to need a drink to get me through tonight. What do you drink?” You ask him, the phone against you ear as it rings.

“I don’t mind” he mumbles.

“White? Red? Should we get champagne?”

Mason found you extremely intriguing, you were confident and he was well, he was mason. “get some white, and ask if they're still doing food.”

“Hiya, can I get 2 bottles of any white wine to room 67 please? Thank you, and are you still doing food?”

And before you knew it you and mason was both say cross legged on the bed, a bowl of cheesy chips in the middle of you both and random tiny alcohol bottles from where you had drained the mini fridge, mason demanding that you had to do shots. You were on your third glass or maybe forth? Asking each other the randomist of questions.

“Okay, okay, I’ve got one, what’s the most embarrassing thing your parents have caught you doing?” Says mason.

“I dunno, probably something like dancing in my room naked when I was 15?” you say talking a sip of your wine, “you?”

Masons cheeks blush as he looks down.

“No. Fucking. Way. Mason Mount please don’t tell me your parents have walked in on you having sex?”

“Yep, most traumatic moment of my life” you and mason were in fits on the bed, laughing away.

It got to about 1am there was so doubt the two of you were drunk. You were both ignoring that you were going to have raging hangovers tomorrow, instead just enjoying each others company. You had managed to get on like a house on fire, which for you and mason was completely out of character, you were supposed to hate each other.

“Why do you hate me?” You couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of your mouth, a burning question that you’ve always wanted to ask mason.

The smile on his face fades as he downs the rest of his drink, pouring out another one. “I don’t hate you”

You sit there in silence for a moment before mason speaks up again, “why do you hate me?”

You look up at him with a simple smile, “I don’t hate you” you say, repeating his words.

“Y/n?”

“Mason”

“What would you do if I kissed you?”

“I don’t know” you mumble.

You look up to stare into his dark chocolate brown eyes, you could easily get lost in his eyes. You examine every freckle on his nose before your eyes dart down to his tongue that was wetting his lips before he speaks up again.

“Y/n?”

“Mason”

“Can I kiss you?”

You just nod your head frantically before masons hands make there way to your face and your lips collide, your teeth clash as you feel his smile on your lips. The kiss was slow and passionate, nothing like you have ever felt before.

You lean forward pushing all your weight onto mason so your on top of him, his hands move from you face to your waist where he gave a tight squeeze.

Once you pull apart for air, mason brushes the hair out of you face and behind your ear.

“You’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that” he breathlessly says.

“I think you should do it again”

“Me too” he mumbles onto your lips.

He tasted like wine and mint. His skin felt like soft silk. His hair felt cotton and his lips felt like they were made for yours.

Mason places his hand on your back as he turns you over gently, so he’s now on top. You're both trying to not break the kiss while taking your clothes off at the same time.

Masons lips remove from yours for a split second as he helps you remove your jumper and t shirt, he stares at your breasts like a teenage boy who’s never seen a pair of boobs in his life.

"your beautiful, you know that?"

You tried to hide the blush rising on your cheeks.

His face then moves to your left boob as he starts to trace circles with his tounge. His free hand rubbing your other boob as his thumb traces your hard nipple.

He then pulls away and placed kisses from your torso to your stomach, leaving a sloppy kiss on your pubic bone.

Mason sits up and pulls his top over his head as he then dives down to pull off your joggers and knickers, throwing them somewhere around the room.

You were completely naked, but for some reason you didn't feel exposed.

Mason snaked his hands under your thighs and placed them on his shoulders.

You felt his hot breath fan you leaking core, his tongue fattens as he does one long lick up your wet slit. Mason savers this taste, just incase he never got the chance to taste you again.

And with that his tongue was doing everything right. He gently swirled your clit before he dipped in an out of your hole teasing your slightly.

"mase, im so close"

"hold it for me, darling" mason says as he pulls away.

You felt a whine leave your mouth as he pulled of you to sit up and pull his joggers off.

"patience sweetheart" he was standing there naked, and it was...big. You watched as pre cum leaked from his tip as he climbed on top of you. He placed a kiss on your temple. He held eye contact with you as he ripped open the condom packet.

He put the condom on and lined himself up with your slit, he slowly inserted himself in you, you both gasp in sync once he is completely inside of you. Your legs wrap around his waist as you watch your back fro a better angle.

Mason intertwined your fingers and held your hand above your head. His moments were slow at first, slow and deep, every time he pulled out and pushed back in he hit your g spot.

"Mason, faster"

And before you knew it mason was pounding inside of you, the only noise in the room was both of your heavy breathing and the slapping of your skin.

You knew it wouldn't be long before you came, you felt a knot form in your stomach, it growing tighter with ever thrust. You knew mason was close too by how sloppy his thrusts were getting.

He took his hand out of the grip of yours and placed them in his mouth, then using his wet fingers to rub slow circles on your clit.

"cum with me y/n, please"

And with them simple words of encouragement your back arched, your skin squashing together as mason felt you grow tighter. your orgasm hitting you hard.

Mason collapsed on top of you, his face burred in your neck as he was still inside of you.

"I think I love you" muffles mason into your neck.

You just giggle and place your hands in his hair, knowing it was the alcohol talking.

[literarilytrisha]

My Rating: 4/5 ⭐ Genre(s): romance, contemporary Published: September 14, 2021 by Berkley Books Content Warnings: sexual harassment, abuse of power, bullying, loss of a parent, cancer talk Quick Reaction: 👀🔥😮💋

Description:

As a third-year Ph.D. candidate, Olive Smith doesn't believe in lasting romantic relationships--but her best friend does, and that's what got her into this situation. Convincing Anh that Olive is dating and well on her way to a happily ever after was always going to take more than hand-wavy Jedi mind tricks: Scientists require proof. So, like any self-respecting biologist, Olive panics and kisses the first man she sees. That man is none other than Adam Carlsen, a young hotshot professor--and well-known ass. Which is why Olive is positively floored when Stanford's reigning lab tyrant agrees to keep her charade a secret and be her fake boyfriend. But when a big science conference goes haywire, putting Olive's career on the Bunsen burner, Adam surprises her again with his unyielding support and even more unyielding... six-pack abs. Suddenly their little experiment feels dangerously close to combustion. And Olive discovers that the only thing more complicated than a hypothesis on love is putting her own heart under the microscope.

My Thoughts:

A sunshine meets grumpy but make it science-y to get all your swoons and dreamy sighs. We love to see science nerds in love.

“Carry yourself with the confidence of a mediocre white man”

Have you ever read a book where you just wanted to skip around and doodle hearts over everything? Because this book will bring you there and you'll want to go out and get a chemistry set even if you don't even care about science-y things. It's just all about the vibe, you know? I spent most of this book smiling and laughing. It's very much a swoon worthy romance with it being smart, charming and downright funny. There was the issue of it falling into the 'if only we communicated oh darn' trope pitfall but I can look past it since I enjoyed everything else about this book. Olive and Adam were wonderful and I was really rooting for both of them.

Please, be mindful while this can be a lighthearted fake dating book, it still deals with some heavy topics and there are some trigger warnings to look out for. Be safe out there!

“He’d clearly never seen a rom-com or read a romance novel in his life.”

Olive is a third-year Ph.D. candidate and the last thing she needs in her life is the complication of a romance but sadly for her the universe has other plans in motion. These plans direct her towards Dr. Adam Carlsen, who is scary or so most of the students and probably half of the staff claim. Safe to say, he doesn't have the best reputation but he is a hot shot and very competent professor.

The two end up in a a fake dating situation to help out her best friend. The reasoning for the fake dating situation is a little suspend disbelief but there are a few moments like that. Carrying on.

Along the way, they both find out they aren't exactly who they thought they were. Somehow, they both realize their new pieces fit together. Or do they? It'll be a journey for them to work out how much of the relationship is faked and what they want to be real about.

The Love Hypothesis manages to hit the perfect line between romance and comedy. I really loved the snarky banter passed back and forth. Some of it had me laughing out loud.

Most of all, I love Ali Hazelwood picked a woman in STEM as her main character and made her strong yet still fragile, funny yet still headstrong and more than anything else compassionate. Her wit and quirk made being in her head really fun. I really liked Olive but I will admit she does fall into the quirky heroine category. I LIKE this kind of character but I know it's not everyone's favorite thing.

Then we have mysterious and gruff Adam, who slowly unwinds during the book and becomes so much more. I loved the depth to him and the ways he cared about Olive. The romance between them was sizzling and the build up was a chefs kiss. There are some spicy scenes for those who love such things and those who do not they are easy to skip over without really missing too much! It's nice they are relatively grouped together.

All in all, this is one of my favorite romances I've read this year and I cannot wait to see what Ali Hazelwood comes up with next. I am going to make sure to get my hands on it to read.

“You kiss him and next thing you know he's saving your ass and he's buying you scones and calling you a smart-ass in a weirdly affectionate tone”

[stressy-enby]

Chapter 1:  4 Months Later

Cover made on Canva.com

You were great at running. You’d been running from your problems for year, both figuratively and literally. Before however, your problems followed you, now they simply wait on bated breath for your return. What’s the point in running, though, if no one’s chasing you?

Previous - Next

Masterlist

Haha, funny story guys. This may become an angsty slow-burn. I still have no idea how long this is gonna be or take, but it may be a bigger project than I imagined.

. . .

Your shoes tapped quietly against the white tile as you waved to the receptionist as you passed his desk.

It was getting colder, so the police station interior was conversely getting warmer. You shrugged off your coat, reveling in the delectable, toasty heat.

You passed several more desks on the way to your own. At this point, you didn’t have to look to see who would greet you, ignore you, or just frown disapprovingly for simply arriving at work.

The quiet buzz of chatter blended together in a symphony of voices as you walked through the center of it, only to be intercepted by Taiyo.

“Morning, (Y/N)” The older investigator gestured for you to sit.

“Hey, Tai,” You pulled out the chair, and slid your sunglasses on before your eyes met. He pushed a paper cup over to you. “Thanks.”

“Good to see you didn’t take off on us. It’s nice to see you still in the country.” His eyes twinkled knowingly “Go anywhere exotic this weekend?”

Taiyo Antonov was the stern yet kindly man who was charged with keeping an eye on you. He had been the one to bring an end to your “traveling days” as you called them to people outside of the station. Despite him being the reason you where behind bars for three years in three different countries, he had become your closest friend and confidant. You two where a bit of an odd pair; you, a shifty looking 24-year-old who knew far too much about counterfeiting checks, and he, a 52-year-old police investigator who spoke with a vague Russian accent.

“Pfft, if you consider the grocery store exotic, I guess.” You rolled your eyes, peeling the lid off your paper cup to scrutinize its contents. “You visited your daughter, right? How’d that go?”

“It was good, I had fun. She took me mini-golfing.”

“And?”

“And she kicked my ass.”

You chuckled, then took a cautionary sip of your coffee. “Anything interesting on the bracket today, or am I gonna be bored out of my skull for another twelve hours?”

“Actually, you’re going to have some visitors.” Taiyo slid his reading glasses on and flipped through a file. “Ingenium and Deku should be dropping by at seven.”

“Hold on-” You sputtered in confusion, setting your mediocre coffee down. “Why? What did I do?”

“Do you even need to ask that?” He shot you an incredulous look, which you matched with one of your own.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You grunted, fleetingly picturing yourself strangling your friend. “Taiyo. Why do Deku and Ingenium wanna meet me?”

“They’re the ones who presented the idea of releasing you for parole. They fought with me to get you here.” The balding man pulled a paper out of his file and handed it to you. “This is the proposal they turned in.”

You skimmed the typed document. It was about a whole page long, and was a lot like those argumentative essays you had to write back in middle school. There were several well written points about why you should be released from Tartarus and how you could help the police station, even you found yourself being convinced this really was the best place for you. Your eyes skipped to the bottom of the sheet, to the handwritten signatures, Ingenium and Deku. 

“Woah,” You breathed, mildly starstruck. You had originally thought that it was just Taiyo who got you out. You would’ve never imagined that two pro heroes would take this much interest in you. In fact, you found yourself a little hurt that they had taken the time to help you. Two perfect strangers handed you a Get Out of Jail Free card on a silver platter, but Taiyo, the pitying man who had worriedly handed you over to the French police for your first year of imprisonment hadn’t even thought to offer you the same luxury.

“Yeah, they want to check up on you.” Tai smiled a little, a proud dad-like gleam in his eye. “Last time they saw you, you looked like Hell.”

“Imprisonment wasn’t my best look,” You shrugged nonchalantly, pushing that painful twist of betrayal back down.

“I can’t imagine it’s anyone’s.” Your friend replied putting the parole proposal back in the file. “Anyway, I’ve got a few check for you to take a look at.”

He passed a second file over as you rolled your eyes. “So much fun,” You collected it and your drink, standing up. “Don’t you have anything challenging?”

“Our guy has a mix of real and fake checks. That’s interesting.” Taiyo insisted.

“No, that’s boring.” You stated. “If anything, it makes my job easier. This guy’s a real amateur.”

. . . . .

Your bosses seemed to think that giving you a surplus of work would make up for it being incredibly easy. It did not. It just made it tedious, and less fun. The first few days of work were interesting, getting to see different forgery techniques and all, but it had quickly just became monotonous.

You sorted through a pile of checks, easily discerning the fakes. Over years of practice, the identifiers where clearer than day to you. The paper being just a fraction heavier than usual, puckered wording where it didn’t belong, ink that didn’t smell quite right, and so on and so forth.

Your computer dinged, indicating an email, and you eagerly allowed yourself to be distracted. You navigated to your emails, and your eyebrows shot up upon reading the sender’s address.

Ingenium@gmail.com

There were no extra numbers or letters thrown in the address for individuality, so it seemed more likely than not to be the real deal. You were unsure why you were surprised. The hero was already coming to visit you, why shouldn’t he email you?

You shook off the initial thrill of being contacted by a pro hero, and clicked to open the message.

(Y/N) (L/N),

Good morning. I’m just writing to remind you that Deku and I will be meeting you at your workplace at 7:00 PM today. We’re looking forward to the visit, and hope you do as well.

Regards,

Ingenium

Another warm thrill dashed through you as you hit Reply. You fingers hovered above the keys, mentally drafting your response. A few words were typed out, before all being discarded, backspacing all the way to Good moring, Ingenium.

After muddling through your simple email and rereading and rewriting it twice,  you finally hit Send, releasing a breath of air you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

Good morning, Ingenium,

Thank you for your reminder, I’m looking forward to meeting you and Deku in person. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to see me.

See you soon!

(Y/N) (L/N)

“No email should be this stressful.” You reasoned with yourself, rolling your swivel chair away from your desk.

You leaned back, watching the seconds tick by slowly. Each minute seemed to be longer than the last.

8:46

“This is agony.”

[themilky-way]

the motive {loki odinson}

gif credit: astouract

pairing: loki odinson x female! reader

summary: he takes pleasure in the way you react to his words. it’s a fun game up until you’ve had enough, and everything he’s wanted is sitting before him. based on the morning by the weeknd.

warnings: was supposed to be hella implied nsfw but i guess i got soft halfway through BUT i redeemed myself so ha 😼. anyways, minor nsfw themes and language, so caution. tiny, TINY angst oops. we kinky in dis one 

author’s note: i started school again so getting more works done will take a bit longer but i’ll try to write as much as i can! anyways hope this satisfies y’all 😌

-------

it had started out as a joke. a fun little game that would bring him some sort of entertainment during his stay on earth. and while it did work fairly well during the first few weeks, he never thought it would transition into this-whatever the hell this was.

loki was cunning and devious; it was part of his nature that would never cease to exist within him. he enjoyed causing some trouble here and there if it meant he kept a molecule of sanity. so when thor suggested he stay with him at the avengers tower, he thought he might explode. living in a humongous multi billionaire house with the people who wanted him dead? it was a set up. it had to be.

for loki, the first few weeks had been tolerable. he’d wake up in his assigned bedroom, fix himself a mediocre breakfast once the kitchen was empty, and then scurry up to a quiet place. he discovered that he could do as he pleased whenever the compound was free of residents, and since the avengers had much bigger threats now, he didn’t have to worry about them spying on him. it was false freedom, but he could live with it.

when he’d have such luxury, he would sometimes walk down to the common room to settle with a good book. sure, it may appear to be a boring pastime, but it wasn’t as if loki was going to throw an exuberant ball without tony’s permission. not that he was a man- dare he say god-of seeking approval, but it was common courtesy, for odin’s sake! he had morals he needed to follow, thus requiring him to partake in hobbies that would not get him in trouble.

however, when he came across a particular mortal one night, the values he sought after vanished. it’s as if they never existed at all, and once again the laws of time and space defied him. you were there, taking up his entire field of vision in just an oversized t-shirt. could it be your partner’s? loki questioned. it most likely was, yet he found himself hoping it wasn’t. in that moment, it didn’t help that his mind had stopped functioning. when you stepped into the kitchen, the shirt hiking up slightly with every step, his body didn’t allow him to look away. his novel was discarded far away on the couch, and his hands searched for some type of cloth to grip. it was here, with your body bent over and curiously searching through the refrigerator, that his carnal instincts heightened. then, his knuckles turned white when you finally noticed him.

“oh fuck, hi,” you gasped. the glass bottle you were holding dropped, but it knew better than to actually hit the floor. seconds after catching it, you turned to look at the stranger in front of you. “didn’t see ya there.”

loki tried-really tried-to think of a good reason not to bend you over again, on that lovely kitchen counter your fingertips were dancing on, and take you right then and there. perhaps it might seem a tad bit rude? would such an action be impolite? the right answer was yes: it was absolutely all of the above. a first date is necessary to win the heart of a lady, and then a couple more to build a friendship. the relationship would come naturally, with given time, of course. in his head, the god was scoffing at how eager he was to win this clumsy, beautiful creature. he was one who took what he wanted-whenever he wanted-and didn’t look back. but loki was confined to the dull walls of the compound, and apparently so were you. he needn’t worry, for time had joined his side once more; he’d get to know how sweet you could taste, how your mouth would mindlessly shudder out his name, and the man couldn’t be more thrilled.

“are you able to speak?”

the simple question reached him, and when he searched for the source, he came face to face with you. you were standing in front of him, in all your delicious glory, and it almost broke him. still, he was deceitful; you couldn’t know that. “of course i speak, you fool,” loki shot back.

“okay, well, you didn’t answer me back there,” you pointed out. your hands were neatly clasped behind you, excitedly rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet, when you extended a hand for introduction. your name confidently slipped out, giving loki the most tender smile anyone could offer him. “pleased to meet you, sir.”

sir. the name stirred something up inside him, and he wasn’t able to tell if he’d accidentally let out a moan upon hearing it. did you know how innocent you sounded? how ravishing you appeared right now-with the soft skin of your thighs drawing out the patterns he so wished to kiss, or how the outline of your bosom prominently showed itself through your clothes. he stopped himself, though, before he could cross the line between observant and creepy. the last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable, having had the same dreadful feeling for far too long during his lifetime.

“don’t call me that.” the hand you were holding out was covered by his own. the handshake was quick, not too harsh or loose, but just adequate. he said his name, and he found himself missing the feeling of your skin against his.

“why?”

“because it’s not for you to say.” a lie. a very well calculated one, at that. he may be properly forged in the art of deception, but right now he wasn’t quite sure he passed the test. if he could grant permission to any woman to use the term of endearment, it’d sure as hell be you.

“alright then,” you mildly laughed. “i’ll just have to find a name i can call you.”

after that, loki realized that his source of happiness ultimately came from you. he enjoyed the unlikely bond you both had, one that formed because of the god’s inability to keep it in his pants. it was awkward at first-with everything you did or said locked in his mind wherever he’d go-but the confidence he always carried with him returned at one point.

today, loki never forgot to let you know what you did to him. this was it. the game he sought after since his inherent arrival at the tower. this was the adrenaline, the crazed connection he’d been hunting for centuries. it ignited something-between the two of you-whenever loki’s mouth would hover over your earlobe, whispering just how agonizingly slow he could take you. he never mentioned how he’d go about doing it, leaving you to wonder which part of him would fulfill the deed. oftentimes, loki didn’t even have to say anything. if he was feeling particularly shy that evening, and the team was all there, all loki would do was pat his knee. if you want to, if you really need to, you can finish on my leg. the simple image of it would have your hand between your legs that night.

“loki, what the hell.” you found him inside your dorm one particularly rainy night, lighting the candles you kept on either of your nightstands. “i keep my door locked for a reason, y’know. and stop wasting my candles.”

“i can’t help myself, darling. they smell quite lovely,” loki smiled. it was sincere, adoring even, and the way he took comfort in your tiny space brought a light tug to your stomach. you stayed still as you watched his tall form stride over to you. a small breath caught in your throat when loki peered down at you, and he caught it. he knew what he did to you, and he gained a new sense of pride at just how quickly he could make your knees go weak. his thumb and index fingers suddenly-gently-lifted your chin higher so your eyes could lock together. his own searched for something as if to look for the answer to his next question.

“you’re aware this isn’t just strictly physical, right?���

quite frankly, you were not in the loop even a little bit. “what?”

the tiny whisper made him want to carve out your lips with his own, slow, and taunting, and hard. he refrained for the time being. “think hard on it. there’s no rush.”

“no, i get what you meant. it’s just” you shook your head, prompting loki to let go of his grip. “i dunno. i thought you didn’t catch feelings, let alone for me.” loki let out a hearty laugh which forced a goofy grin onto your face. you liked seeing him like this. happy.

“i’m not stone cold, darling. you’re the only one i’ve ever had an infatuation with, though. well done, you seem to have captured my heart,” he joked. you giggled with him as you lightly shoved his chest, but loki caught your wrist before you could take it back. the kiss he brought to the inside of it had you swooning. a childish, girly feeling, yet you couldn’t care less. the both of you stayed there for a while and casually chatted until it was time for loki to head out. that night, you hardly got any sleep.

-------

ever since then, loki acted as if he didn’t remember it. he went back to his cocky self, not that you minded, but some simple recognition would’ve been nice. the days lapsed as they did before: loki doing everything in his divine power to make you ache for him. it worked, no matter how hard you avoided it, but soon you stopped trying. your body demanded for loki to touch you. to give you more than a simple brush of his lips to your wrist, yet he gave you anything but. and so you set out to change that.

it was the late hours of the night, with your team comfortably dispersed amongst the common room. movie night was in full effect, and no one had the intention of looking away from the gory film that was currently playing. you were seated next to wanda, the man you wanted painfully too far away from your reach. he didn’t have any clue you were angry with him, nor were you going to tell him. he was a thoughtful man, he’d figure it out.

you blinked away only to be met with his gaze. it was sharp, hungry. he looked you over as his tongue dipped out to run along his lip, biting it once he finally saw what he wanted. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t arouse you. of course it did; the poor man would rail you straight into this couch right now if he got the chance to.

you looked away, fearing vulnerability, and somehow managed to make it to the end of the marathon. you all said your farewell’s and deparated to your designated corridors, and just when you were about to close your door, a hand stopped it.

he pushed himself inside without much resistance from your own part. you stepped back and allowed him to close it, suddenly feeling a bit small. he looked at you then, the hunger replaced by confusion.

“is everything alright?” he inquired. no it’s not. you won’t shove two fingers into my mouth and tell me how good i’ve been.

“is everything alright-” you scoffed, “no it’s fucking not, loki.” you ran your hands through your hair and looked down, finding the decorative tiles on your floor quite intriguing.

“hey, woah, look at me. tell me what’s wrong, sweet.”

“that. that’s what’s wrong, loki. it’s the way you can tease me whenever you want, and call me sweet names and expect me not to react. you give me nothing to work with, for fuck’s sake!” a couple tears ran down your cheeks unbeknownst to you, but loki was quick to hold your face in his hands. his thumb wiped the drops in quick, tender-like motions and he crumbled at the way you focused on him.

“i’m sorry, darling. my intentions were never meant to bring you harm, much less sorrow. how can i fix this?”

“i need you to, fuck i-” you took a couple of breaths. “i need-want-you to touch me. to make me feel good, in all the ways you know how.”

loki chuckled quietly, a proud, defiant smirk curving along his lips. “is that what this is about? why, you could’ve just asked. no need for a tantrum.”

rolling your eyes, you tried to look away from him, but his hands began traveling to the curve of your neck, a lonely thumb parting your lips. he pried your mouth open and slipped it inside, letting the noise hidden in the back of his throat escape when your tongue wrapped around him. “is this what you wanted?”

your own luscious moan filled the room, and you felt his thumb push harder against your tongue.

“use your words, angel.”

an enticing gasp. “yes, sir.”

[evathenovice]

The Picnic

Okay I can’t draw for beans, but I can at least write mediocre xp. A small gift to @cidbirb​ and our adorable ship Zeva below~

The woods were filled with the song of birds, the soft breeze through the trees, and even the chattering of squirrels; all the expected noises to surround a person in nature. Well, except for one other soft another soft song joining that of the birds, this one coming from a young woman kneeling on a blanket in one of the many small clearings of the woods outside of Vesuvia. 

“Softly the wind blows, memories to me~ 

Of embers and starlight and songs from the sea~”  

Eva tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she methodically set the little containers from her basket about the blanket, arranging and rearranging the spread till it looked as inviting as she could make it. Thankfully a rather large rock provided a nice flat surface to set everything on, a makeshift low table for the date. 

“ Far gone those days of old~

but love shall stay, or so I am told~- Okay then, I think that should just about do it. What do you think?” the young woman looked over at a large mound of fur and plants, the large tusked feline yawning in response. “Oh thank you for the vote of confidence” Eva rolled her eyes with a chuckle, humming more of her song as she pulled out the plates and utensil rolls. 

Persephatta stretched and reached out her claws, digging into the earth, but froze when the scent of company hit her nose. Rather familiar company at that, that had her chuffing and letting out her small call as she went to meet their guests. The cadrith purred as a strong tanned hand caressed gently over her head, and slid down her back. Once the hand was gone, her attention was on the behemoth that had accompanied the human into the woods. 

“Ah, Zack, you and Yasha are early!” Eva had a feeling her date for the lunch was what lifted her cadrith’s mood, as did his familiar, who was now chuffing back as Persephatta rubbed herself under the beast’s chin. 

“Yasha followed your scent to find this place. Sorry if it is ahead of time,” The tall man said with a soft smile as he walked over to Eva, having to bend down due to their height difference to plant a gentle and chaste kiss on her cheek.

“O-Oh no no, don’t worry i-in fact I am glad you did” Eva’s cheeks pinked at the feel of his warm lips on her face, “I mean, just finished setting up so y-ya know” Awe man, it was always that smile on that freckled face and soft voice that made her this flustered. “H-here we are” she opened up her hands in a tada fashion to the picnic spread. 

“Hn,” Zack nodded with a soft smile as he sat down on one of the pillows offered and looked at the containers with some curiosity, “looks rather nice.” 

Meanwhile the familiars were gently batting at each other in play, well more Eva’s attempting to initiate play and Zack’s mildly entertaining the thought.

“Teehee, thanks” Eva’s face beamed with joy, “We have a salad, some diced fruit and brown bread honey spread...” Eva pointed to the different containers of the spread, “And then we have some barbecue jackfruit stuffed pitas.”  

“Jackfruit” It was not much of a question but more of a tone of realization and appreciation. 

“W-well you are a vegetarian, so I wanted to make sure it would be something we could both enjoy” the redhead nibbled on her bottom lip. 

“It is wonderful,” The cyan eyed man smiled at her, “that is very considerate of you” He took his plate and started putting the various things Eva has laid out on his place, not only to show appreciation but also his own appetite that he had held off sating that morning  for this occasion. 

“And as for dessert,” the redhead pulled out a pie pan, but it was no pie in there, “Strawberry jam cheesecake” 

Zack paused, his mouth full of the bbq pita as he eyed the dessert that seemed to be calling his name as she displayed it. “You,” he said with a growing smile after savoring his bite, “spoil me Eva. Keep feeding me like this and I am going to gain weight.” 

“T-That wouldn’t be horrible would it?” Eva asked as she helped herself to some of the salad and fruit, “I bet you would still look handsome. M-maybe even more so,” she added with a small nervous chuckle. 

“You think so?” He asked with a raised brow, grabbing another one of the pita’s but leaning across the table to give it to her, “Don’t just eat salad, have something more filling.” he said with a stern, yet caring tone, knowing how she tended to be hypocritical about how much food to eat. 

“Oh, o-okay,” She smiled, not arguing for once with his request that she eat. Truly eat, not just pick at things enough to get a taste. 

Time went by, with them eating and talking. Conversation between portions varied from about Asra and the common things he would say to the both of them, some of the changes that Zack had made to his carvings to add extra protection to the carriers, and Eva’s own continued training in the various arts of divination. 

“I actually made you something…” Zack pulled a little wooden carving on a cord from his pocket, handing it to her rather quickly. And.. was that some pink on his cheeks. “For… me?” Eva wasn’t expecting such a sweet gesture. Well, she wasn’t surprised Zack would do such a thing, but it was more she didn’t expect him for this date to have something ready for her so soon. Looking down at the little carving in her hands she smiles, “It’s a badger...and there are little symbols…” her smile grew as her hands gently caressed the craftsmanship. It looked like either it was two different woods used, or perhaps it was the sanding and polishing of the wood that gave such different tones for the white and black parts of the creature. 

“It’s to protect you.” Zack stated, his eyes going back and forth  from her face to the gift, “Do you.. Do you like it?”

“Oh Zack, I adore it,” the redhead beamed, “can you help me put it on? Please?” she handed it back to him before turning around, pulling her hair to the side so it wouldn’t be in the way. 

He smiled and scooted on his knees to be behind her to put the necklace around her and tie a secure knot. “

“I promise, I will never take it off,” Eva hummed as her hand slid up her chest, rubbing the smooth polished wood. 

“It was made to protect you, so I would hope not,” Zack said softly, his arms wrapping tightly around her middle and pulling her close, “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” he mumbled against her skin, his head in the crook of her neck. 

“Z-Zack…” Eva said his name softly, as if it were a special, sacred word, reaching her hand back to caress his head. Shifting her body in his arms, once he loosened enough at least to let her, she wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged him back, “You mean a lot to me too…” She dared to confess. His tanned face slid against her neck and cheek till his forehead was pressed against hers, looking her in the eyes with such a tender expression; such worry, yet hope, and happiness, and fear: these were all things that she could see deep in those rare, magical eyes. 

Cupping his cheek in her hand, Eva pressed her lips to his nose, right on the freckles and then proceeded to give soft kisses to his freckle bridge, before planting the last one on his forehead. 

When she drew back, she couldn’t help but smile and hold back a chuckle at the adorable shocked and awe expression her dearest to her had on his face. “I f-feel a bit bad though,” she hummed bashfully, “You got me this and I don't have a gift for you. Well, other than maybe another slice of that cheesecake?” 

The humor in her words and the wink she gave seemed to break Zack out of his stupor, a smile coming across his pinked face, and his own chuckle rumbling in his chest, “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Once they were full on food and words, the two found themselves relaxing against one of the strong pines of the forest. Eva’s back resting against the trunk, with Zack’s head in her lap as she hummed and ran her hands through his hair. Their familiars lay off in their own nap, occasionally giving a small grooming session to the top of the other’s head and ears.  

“I don’t think I have heard that song...’ Zack said, his voice drifting with is subconscious, not bothering to open his eyes as he settled comfortably under her touch. 

“Well, I am writing it actually,” the redhead looked down at the handsome man who seemed to be drifting off to sleep, “I have been looking into song incantation practices, so been fiddling with that a bit.” 

“And what is it for?” One eye did peek open a little, glancing up at her with a calm and tired smile, a hand reaching up to play with one of her locks of hair that curtained around him as she bent down. 

“Well,” Eva nibbled on her bottom lip, “I sort of was thinking of a love song. One that helps protect a soul mate. From what I looked into finding your soulmate would be an extremely difficult spell. B-But maybe…maybe you can at least send them some warmth and protection. And make them feel that you are out there, thinking of them.” 

“Hnnn” Zack let out in understanding and approval, “Perhaps I can help you with that... if you like.” He yawned and rolled himself to his side, facing into her stomach as he nestled in and made himself comfortable with her. 

“I’d like that.” Eva smiled down at him, pressing her fingers to her puckered lips to gently transfer a kiss to his cheek, before resuming her humming and petting his head, her own eyes slowly closing as she felt more at peace in that moment, than any other she could ever recall. 

Besides, I don’t need to find my soul mate…I already feel that has been found

End?

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Wizard of Oz Queen x pre-teen reader Chap. 9; There’s no place like home

*Author’s note*

The final chapter has arrived! This was the chapter I had completed last night that finally put this wonderful series to an end. I enjoyed writing this cute little Movie AU series. For now I’m going to take a break from writing movie AU’s and finally get back to requests that I’ve had on hold for like a year now. So enjoy this final chapter of the Wizard of Oz Queen style  and until the next time I update :)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@queensdivas​

@queendeakyy​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@platawnic​

@kairosfreddie​

@geek-and-proud​

____________________________________________________________

When we arrived back at the Emerald City, news of the Warlock of the West’s death had already gotten to the city and everyone was in rejoice at our return.  We were immediately escorted back to the throne room of the Great Oz and when he saw us, he seemed surprised.

“Can I believe my eyes? Why have you come back?” Scarecrow handed me the broomstick and I walked forward and presented the Great Oz with the broomstick.

“We’ve done what you told us. We brought you the broomstick of the Wicked Warlock of the West. We melted him.” I said as I set the broomstick down at the top of the staircase.

“Ahh you liquidated him ehh? Very resourceful.” The Wizard hummed.

“Yes sir. So…. we’d like it if you kept your promise to us. If you please.”

“Not so fast! Not so fast!” The Wizard urged. “I’ll have to give the matter a little more thought. Go away and come back tomorrow.” He said as green smoke covered his face.

“Tomorrow!? But I wanna go home now!” I whined.  We did all of this, practically dying (mostly in my case) trying to get this broomstick and now he’s saying he wants us to come back tomorrow.

“You’ve had plenty of time to think about it already!” Tinman proclaimed as he stood beside me.

“Yeah!” Lion roared as he came up to my other side along with Scarecrow who nodded in agreement.

“DO NOT AROUSE THE WRATH OF THE GREAT AND POWERFUL OZ!! I SAID COME BACK TOMORROW!” The Wizard exclaimed.

“If you were really Great and Powerful you’d keep your promises!” I exclaimed.

“Do you presume to criticize the great Oz!? You ungrateful creatures!” The Wizard proclaimed.  That’s when I felt a tap at my shoulder and I looked up at the Scarecrow who pointed to our left.

There I saw that Toto had pulled back a green curtain and there stood a man in a suit speaking at the same time the Great Oz was speaking.  As he continued to ramble on into a microphone and flipping switches, I got Lion’s and Tinman’s attention and pointed at the man and soon all four of us were staring at the man.

The man turned to us and his face turned to shock as he said into the microphone.

“The Great Oz has spoken!” he turned back to us and grunted before quickly taking the curtain and covering it up as the Great Oz’s voice proclaimed. “PAY NO ATTENTION TO THAT MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN!! The Great and—Oz has spoken!”

I walked right up to the curtain and pulled it back before picking Toto up and the man faced me in surprise.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Me? Well I am the Great and Powerful…..” he first spoke into the microphone with confidence but he dropped the charade and admitted sheepishly without the use of the microphone. “Wizard of Oz.”

“You!? I don’t believe this!” I snapped.  My friends soon came behind me glaring at the man and he admitted once again.

“I’m afraid it’s true. There’s no other Wizard except me.”

“You wanker!” Scarecrow snapped.

“A charlatan if you ask me!” Lion growled angrily.

“Yes. Yes, yes that’s exactly so. I am—a wanker and a charlatan.”

“You’re a very cruel man.” I scolded him.

“Oh, no my dear I’m—I’m a very good man. Just a—very bad wizard.” He told me.  His blueish-grey eyes shining with regret.

“What about the heart that you promised Tinman!? And the courage you promised the Lion!?” Scarecrow snapped while both Tinman and Lion spoke together.

“And Scarecrow’s brain!” it was then the man softly smiled and said as he stood before Scarecrow and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Why, anybody can have a brain. That’s a very mediocre commodity. Every creature with a pulse that walks or crawls on the earth, or slithers and slinks through slimy slims has a brain. Back where I come from, we have universities. Where men and women alike go to become great thinkers. And when they come out, they think deep thoughts. And with no more brains than you’ve got. But they have one thing you haven’t got, a diploma.”

He then turned back to his control and pulled out a few rolled up pieces of paper tied with a red ribbon and took one of the paper rolls and continued speaking as he unrolled the diploma and presented it to Scarecrow.

“Therefore, by virtue of the authority vested in me…by the Universitatus Committeeatum E Pluribus Unum…I hereby confer upon you the honorary degree of Th.D.”

“Th.D?” questioned Scarecrow as he took his diploma happily.

“Yes that’s Doctor in Thinkology.” The Wizard answered.

“The sum of the square root of any two sides of an isosceles triangle is equal to the square root of the remaining side.” Scarecrow suddenly said.  I gaped and he smiled widely. “Oh gods…..I’ve got a brain! How can I ever thank you?”

“Oh you can’t.” The Wizard said.  He then turned to Lion and took him by his hand guiding him up the stairs to his throne as he continued while we followed behind them, “And as for you my feline king. You’re a victim of disorganized thinking. You think that just because you don’t speak up or make your roars presentable, you have no courage. You’re confusing Courage with Wisdom. Back where I come from we have motivational speakers. People who step forward before rallies of hundreds even thousands of people to speak about what they believe in. And they have no more courage than you’ve got. But they have one thing that you don’t got. A medal.”

He pulled out from the back of his throne a large black bag and began to dig through it till he pulled out a medal. It was a triple cross bronze with a short red and white stripped fabric pattern on top.  And across the medal in bold print was the word COURAGE.

“Therefore….for meritorious conduct, extraordinary valor….conspicuous bravery against wicked Warlocks and grueling hyenas. I award you the Triple Cross.” He pinned the medal to Lion’s shirt before finishing, “You are now a member of the Legion of Courage. Your father would be proud of you son.” The Wizard then kissed both of Lion’s cheeks while Lion was blushing mad.

“I’m—I’m speechless.” He chuckled shyly before turning away bashfully.  Finally the Wizard turned to the Tinman and he said.

“As for you, my galvanized friend, you want a heart. You don’t know how lucky you are not to have one. Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable.”

“But I—I’d still like one.” Tinman responded.

“Where I come from, there are people who do nothing all day but good deeds. They are called—umm what was it phila—philios…..anyways. Good-deed-doers. And they have hearts no bigger than yours. But they have one thing you haven’t got. A testimonial. Therefore, in consideration of your kindness, I take the immense pleasure at this time in presenting to you….with a small token of our esteem and affection.” The Wizard pulled out a heart shaped clock attached to a beautiful decorated string.

He handed the Tinman, who was staring at it in awe, his new heart and the Wizard said to him.

“And remember my sentimental friend. That a heart is not judged by how much you love. But by how much you are loved by others.” Tinman smiled before lifting the heart clock up to his ear. He squeaked in excitement as he said.

“Oh it ticks! Listen, listen!” he held the clock up to my ear and I smiled with a nod. “You hear that it ticks!” he held it up to Scarecrow’s ear who nodded happily.

Out of nowhere a very loud, and thunderous roar echoed throughout the room.  It was louder than any thunder I had ever heard in my entire life, and when we turned around there stood Lion in his true lion form.  His tail softly swaying back and forth and a glam of pride shined in his golden lion eyes.

“It would seem I have inherited my father’s roar.”

“Indeed you have Lion. That truly is the roar of a King.” Tinman said.  He smiled and walked back toward us and I extended my hand out and he pressed his head against my palm.  Slowly I stroked up his nose towards his head and said to him.

“A true lion king. Whose courage holds no bounds.” He chuckled softly as he nuzzled against my hand. “I’m so happy for you guys. They’re all wonderful gifts.” I said as I moved my hand down to fiddle with Lion’s medal that hung around his mane.

“Wait hold on!” Scarecrow said. “You can’t forget about (Y/n)!”

“Yes. How about (Y/n)?” Tinman asked.

“Yeah, (Y/n) next.” Lion spoke up.

“Yes right, (Y/n).” The wizard muttered.

“Oh I don’t think there’s anything in that black bag for me.” I said solemnly.

“Well….you force me into a tight situation. The only way to get (Y/n) back home is for me to take her there myself.” The Wizard said. I gasped.

“Oh will you? Could you? Oh!” I asked happily before I said. “But wait are you a clever enough Wizard to manage something like that?”

“My dear you cut me to the quick. My mother was a Welsh woman herself. Born and bred in the quaint little town of Pembroke. I once was there to perform alongside the Miracle Wonderland Carnival Company as a premier balloonist. Until one day, while performing spectacular feats of stratospheric skill never before attempted by man…..an unfortunate phenomenon occurred. The balloon failed to return to the fair.”

“It did?” asked Lion.

“Weren’t you scared?” I asked him.  The Wizard wrapped an arm around my shoulder as he guided me down with the guys following behind us, all of us invested in his story.

“Frightened? You’re looking at a man who has laughed in the face of danger. Sneered at doom and chuckled at doom. I was petrified. Then suddenly the wind changed and the balloon floated down into the heart of this noble city. Where I was instantly acclaimed Oz, the first wizard deluxe. Times being what they were, I accepted the job. Retaining my balloon against the advert of a quick getaway. And there my dear (Y/n), in that very balloon, you and I shall return to the land of our mother’s Land.”

I cheered happily and we soon left the throne room and went out to the heart of the city.  

With the help of some of the Oz citizens, as well as my friends, we had the hot air balloon blown back up and the Wizard and I stood in the basket with my friends surrounding the balloon basket.

Every citizen in Oz gathered around the balloon which stood on a small platform big enough for the balloon and my friends who were holding the ropes of the balloon (which were also tied up to the railings for extra security).

“My friends! This is positively the finest exhibition ever to be shown well be as it may. I, your Wizard, am about to embark upon a hazardous and technically unexplainable journey into the outer stratosphere!” The Wizard proclaimed which made the crowd cheer. “To confer, converse, and otherwise hobnob with my brother wizards. And I hereby decree that until what time (if any) that I return, the Scarecrow by virtue of his highly superior brains. Shall rule in my stead.”

Scarecrow peeked out from behind the basket and bowed his head before the crowd.

“Assisted by the Tinman. By virtue of his magnificent heart.” Tinman also nodded as he solemnly gestured to his heart which he had pinned across his chest.  But I noticed the heartbroken expression across his face. “And the Lion! By virtue of his Courage. Obey them as you would me.” I stroked Lion’s dark brown hair and he looked up and smiled at me softly.

Suddenly Toto jumped out of my arms barking frantically and started chasing a cat.

“Oh Toto! Toto come back here! Toto! Oh please don’t go without me, I’ll be right back.” I said as I got out of the balloon basket then turning to the Wizard pleading with him before chasing after Toto. Scarecrow and Lion helped me out with the chase as Lion exclaimed.

“Stop that dog!” Finally I managed to grab Toto but to my horror I saw that the Wizard was taking off in the balloon.  I let out a scream as I raced back towards the platform to see Scarecrow and Tinman trying to take back the ropes but they soon got too high for them to hang onto.

“Come back! Come back! Oh please come back!”

“I can’t come back! I’ve forgotten how it all works! Goodbye folks!” the people of Oz waved and bid their Wizard farewell and soon the balloon was out of sight.

As I held Toto in my arms, I felt like my whole life was over.  That was my last ticket home and now I’ve run out of options.

“Oh now I’ll never get home.” I choked out. It was then I felt six pairs of hands touch my back, shoulders or arms.  I looked up and Tinman stood to my right, Scarecrow stood close behind me and Lion stood to my left.

“Stay with us then (Y/n).” Lion said.  Tinman and Scarecrow nodded with soft yet sad smiles on their faces. “We love you and—we don’t…..want you to go.”

“Oh. That’s—that’s very sweet of you guys but……this could never be like Wales. Auntie Em must’ve stopped wondering what happened to me by now. Oh Scarecrow what am I gonna do?” he cupped the side of my face before looking up to the sky.  His eyes briefly widened and he said to me as he pointed up.

“Look. There’s someone who can.” I looked up and floating down was a very familiar crystal ball.  All the Oz citizens went silent and I saw every man take off their hats as the crystal came closer and closer before landing just ahead of us.

There Fiyero stood in all his glory with a wide smile spread across his face.  Everyone then bowed before him as he walked across the room greeting everyone with either a nod of his head or an elegant flick of his wrist.  He walked up the steps and stood before us.  I curtsied and I said.

“Oh will you help me? Can you help me Fiyero?”

“You don’t need any more help darling. You’ve always had the power to go back home.”

“I have?” I asked confused.

“Then why didn’t you tell her before?” asked Scarecrow.

“Because she wouldn’t have believed me. She had to learn for herself.”

“What have you learned (Y/n)?” Tinman said to me. I looked at each of them before saying.

“Well….I learned that…..that it wasn’t enough wanting to see Uncle Henry and Auntie Em. This was about—my own journeys. And if I ever want to go looking for my heart’s desire again, I won’t look any further than my own backyard. Because if it isn’t there, I never really lost it to begin with. Is that right?” Fiyero smiled and said.

“That’s all it is dear.”

“But that’s so easy. I should’ve thought of it for you.” Scarecrow belittled himself.

“I should’ve felt it in my heart.” Tinman said.

“And I should’ve had the courage to tell you that.” Lion added.

“No my darlings she had to find out for herself. Now those magic slippers will take you home in 2 seconds.” Fiyero said as he pointed his wand down at the ruby slippers.

“Toto too?”

“Toto too.” My heart began racing with excitement.

“Now?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Oh my god! That’s too good to be true!” I cheered as I turned to the guys before suddenly growing sad. “But it…..it’s going to be that much harder to say goodbye. I love you all too.” I walked up to the Tinman first who was already dripping out tears. “Goodbye Tinman.” I chuckled sadly and took out my handkerchief and dabbed his eyes, “Don’t cry silly. You’ll rust yourself again.” He wiped away his tears.

I took his oilcan out from my basket and handed it to him before standing on my tiptoes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Goodbye.”

“Now I know I’ve got a heart. Cause it’s breaking.” He choked out sadly.  I then walked over to Lion and hugged and kissed his cheek.

“Goodbye Lion. I—I know it’s improper to say but, I’m gonna miss the way you used to shy away before you found your courage.” I fiddled with his medal and he said.

“Well I—I would never have found it, if it hadn’t been for you.” Toto let out a sad whimper and I looked down at him.

“Toto will miss you too.” He smiled and gently rubbed Toto’s head and he gave Lion a loving lick across his arm before whimpering again.

Finally I turned towards the Scarecrow.  My first friend on this long journey.  The one who willingly sacrificed himself for me time and time again.  Tears poured down my face as I embraced him and he hugged me back.

“I’ll miss you most of all.” He rubbed my back and we held onto each other for what felt like a lifetime before finally separating. He cupped the side of my face before he very faintly bopped my nose with his gloved finger.  I choked out a chuckle before giving him a kiss on the cheek and finding the strength to walk away from him.

“Are you ready now?” Fiyero asked me in a gentle tone.

I nodded wordlessly but turned around and took Toto’s paw in mine and made a wave motion as I said.

“Say bye, bye Toto.” Even through their sadness, the guys waved goodbye to Toto.  I turned back to Fiyero and said, “Okay. I’m ready now.”

“Then close your eyes,” I closed them. “Tap your heels together three times.” I clicked my heels together counting them out in my head. “And think to yourself, ‘There’s no place like home’. ‘There’s no place like home’.”

“There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.” I kept repeating that to myself while every now and again clicking my heels together.

*3rd Person POV*

Lying on her bed still knocked out from when the window had hit her on the head during the storm, (Y/n) lay there and was softly muttering ‘there’s no place like home’.  All the while a damp cloth was placed over her forehead.

She kept repeating the words silently in her sleep before her Aunt Em said to her as she took her niece’s hand.

“Wake up honey.” Soon her eyes opened and she was surprised to see that she was now back home.

*My POV*

I heard my Aunt Em’s voice and when I woke up, I saw that I was back in my room and right there at my bedside was Aunt Em and Uncle Henry.

I was home.  I was home!

“(Y/n). (Y/n) love, it’s Aunt Em poppet.”

“Oh Auntie Em it’s you!”

“Hello to home!” a familiar voice called out. Soon coming to my window was Queen’s lawyer Jim Beach.  “The boys wanted me to drive them back here when I told them the young girl got caught in the—” he looked down at me and smiled as he said, “Well. She looks right as rain to me.”

“Yeah she got quite the bump on the head there though. We thought for a moment that she was gonna leave us.” Uncle Henry said.

“But that’s the thing Uncle Henry! I did leave you! And I tried to get back for days and days!” I said as I shot up but Aunt Em stopped me.

“There, there, lie still now. You just had a bad dream is all.” She said as he gently placed me back on the bed before walking away to go get something.

“Can we come in?” I soon looked out of my door and peeking in were Freddie, Brian, Deacy and Roger.  Roger was the first one to come up and kneel beside me as he said with that charming smile of his.

“Hey kiddo. How’s my best girl doing huh?” I smiled widely and cooed out Roger’s name as I cupped the side of his face smiling at him.

“When we heard what happened from Jim, we begged him to bring us back here. How are you feeling poppet?” Brian asked me.

“Just assure us that you haven’t forgotten our beautiful faces dear.” Freddie joked while Deacy playfully slapped his arm.

“Don’t go making it about yourself Fred.” He turned back to me and asked me, “Ignore him, poppet. You doing okay now? Head injuries are a nasty thing to deal with, especially when glass gets involved.”

“I’m fine. But it wasn’t a dream at all. It was a place. And you, you, you, you….and even you Mr. Beach were in it.” I said pointing out to the four band members as well as their lawyer.  Mr. Beach hummed in interest and I said as I rubbed my temple, “But you—you couldn’t have been, could you?”

“We dream lots of strange things when we go through something traumatic dear.” Aunt Em said as she gestured for the boys to move away from my bedside and she sat down beside me.

“No, no Auntie Em. This was a truly live place. I remember that some of it wasn’t very nice, but most of it was beautiful. But just the same all I kept telling everyone was that ‘I wanna go home’. And they sent me home.”

Everyone minus my Aunt Em softly started chuckling. I sat him in my bed as I pleaded.

“Doesn’t anyone believe me?”

“Of course we believe you (Y/n) love.” Uncle Henry said.  Toto who had now hopped up on my bed walked up towards me.  I pulled him close and said happily.

“But anyway Toto we’re home. Home. And this is my room. And you’re all here. And I’m never gonna leave here ever, ever again. Because I love you Auntie Em and Uncle Henry and……oh Dorothy was right. There’s no place like home!”

I hugged Auntie Em as tightly as I could and buried myself into her chest as I closed my eyes and a wide smile spread across my face.

[elizabeth-234]

The Hourglass

Previous Chapter Twenty: Home 

Hi all. Hope you're doing well. Happy New Year and Holidays. This is the penultimate chapter!

Chapter Twenty-One: Turning Back Time 

“I’m Spiderman.”

He paced back and forth in front of the couch overcome with an odd wave of déjà vu. Peter couldn’t bear to look at them once the words spilled forth from his lips. Would Tony’s eyes crinkle at the corners like when he was trying to solve a tough problem? Would Rhodey smile despite the tension in his forehead? He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, thankful despite the anxiety surrounding him that they had thought of getting him new clothes.

Tony spoke first and Peter’s breath held, pent up in his chest. “Kid, you’re full of surprises but a tad too late. Nice first suit though. Way better than mine.”


“Shut up, Tony.”

Peter turned to stare at them all wide eyes and gaping mouth. They chuckled but motioned for him to move closer. He settled at the end of the couch, once again touched by their thoughtfulness and speechless waited for them to talk.

“We know you, Peter. We’re family and we’re going to help.”

His throat burned under Rhodey’s concerned appraisal and at Tony’s admission. How could he have forgotten? The word family, the concept of family was just as foreign to him as the apartment was on his arrival back to 2017, but he should’ve known they wouldn’t let him forget for too long. They were a family, a team, and Ross was threatening to take it away from him. Peter couldn’t let that happen. To have something so previous torn away once he’d just gotten it back would ruin him forever.

“We need to get him.” His shaking hands mirrored the tremors in his voice. “He has to pay.”

Peter remembered the first time he saw Ross, the eerie way he entered his apartment, the disdain and hatred in his eyes piercing into him. Bile rose in his mouth as he remembered the careless way he nudged May’s side as she lay on the ground. But then his eyes turned to Tony and Rhodey who staring at him not with pity but understanding, acceptance. Peter thought of their lives what they could be and what he wanted his to be. No grand fight with Ross was included. Somewhere remote and safe with the three of them is all he wanted. More than revenge, more than his fear and hatred. Peter just wanted to live a normal life.  

“Wait,” He whispered. “I don’t care about that. We need to run or go somewhere he can’t find us. I want to be normal. I can’t even remember what that feels like now but is it too much to ask for?”

“That may not be possible,” Tony replied in slow intervals. “See, we haven’t been sitting around on our laurels for 25 years. We’ve been trying to pinpoint Ross’s motives and reasons. Why he was targeting certain people and what his next moves are.”

“He found you from the hospital because of the blood loss you had.”

“You actually got the blood of one of the Hulk progenitors. We did some digging at the hospital, thanks to a donation, and found out that only that would work with your… shall we say arachnid leaning blood. Ross, the bastard he is, found this out as well and traced you through time. He found out the connection between us and the future. So, it’s all because of you”

“It’s always about me.” Peter gripped his knees until his knuckles were coiled tense.

“No, don’t listen to him.” Rhodey said. “Your connection to us certainly added to the intrigue but it’s hard to say if he would have stopped you from going back for any other reason. We really don’t know that yet.”

“But we will.” Tony said and nodded at his friend serious and solemn until a tinge of excitement entered his eyes. He turned to face Peter fully. “But we’ve found him at long last. Of course, it was too easy to find him after all this time so we know he revealed himself on purpose. He probably knows you know everything. We hadn’t planned on coming back here so our attempts to neutralize his surveillance is mediocre at best.”

“Sorry I was hypothermic and not thinking straight.” Peter said sarcastically while his eyes roamed around the room as he could spot any hidden cameras. “Okay, so when do we turn him over to the police?”

Tony snorted before raising an eyebrow. Both of them hold similar expressions that made Peter’s neck heat up.

“What? Have you hit you head harder than we thought?” Rhodey said in a quiet tone.

“Kid, we don’t need the police and Ross probably owns them anyway.”  

Peter narrowed his eyes at them, trying to gauge how apt they would be to a fight but he couldn’t get the winkles on their faces or the small bits of grey hairs out of his mind.

“But you guys are old now and, no offense, probably couldn’t fight them the same as when you were younger.”

“Ouch Peter. That’s harsh, isn’t it Tones? I think we’ve got some fight in us left.”

“Kid, you do know who we are, right?” Tony’s eyebrows were raised so high and Peter could tell he was on the cusp of full-bellied laughs, but it do anything to jog his memory.

“Tony and Rhodey?” He said with an uncertain waver.

“Holy shit. Holy shit you will never live this down. I will never let you live this down. Rhodey remind me to remind Peter about this every day for the rest of our lives. I forgot you have this weird homeschooled vibe going.”

“I was not homeschooled!” Peter said hotly wanting to get the conversation over with.

Tony nodded at Rhodey who leaned over the arm of the couch and picked up the hamburger phone. They ignored him when he muttered a demand for them to tell him and expletive.

“We told you, Peter. We haven’t just been sitting around these years.”

Rhodey finished dialing on the phone and hung it up. Nothing happened for a moment and another curse was on the tip of his tongue when the wall moved. His jaw dropped. The wall opened up. Peter couldn’t help but wonder if he was in the bat cave or something like it because there inside the wall in fancy, gleaming glass cases was the Iron Man and War machine suits.

Maybe he had hit his head or maybe Peter was out of touch because it was like the fog had cleared in his head. How had he never connected that? How had he not seen through it?

“Holy shit. You’re…What… Really??? I’m a dumbass.”

“You said it not us.”

Peter thought back to when they first met, the ease at which Tony broke free from that place with him in tow. Their means financially and knowledge of himself. It all made sense in a strange way but Peter couldn’t help the awe he felt. The strange fate he’d seemed to have fallen into. His family was special. They were heroes, something Peter always wished he was. But they were special not because of that but in addition to that. They had found Peter, cared for him from nightmares, sleeping and waking. He’d journeyed across time for them and they had waited for him.

Peter smiled and grabbed their hands squeezing tight. He felt the stirring of sand across his skin but ignore it. He was here now and nothing could stop them.

“Let’s do this.”

-

The tension hummed between them at all hours of the day, followed them and cloaked their actions in an ineffable awareness of what was to come. Instead of eating breakfast like they used to with a full table and laughter at every course, the table was laden with plans, serious discussion, and too few waffles. They whispered about that place; painfully went through their time there although that particular conversation left them all with damp eyes and heavy hearts.

The apartment, twisted with time and now with a new unfamiliarness, left Peter at ends with himself. He wasn’t moving through time anymore but time was moving through him. Plans were made and contingencies were cemented, and all the time Peter felt like he needed to fight, to let out a scream. They were so close but the biggest hurdle was left in front of them.

It unfolded like so many things in Peter’s life. In a blink of an eye they were in the suits they spent hours fixing.  Red, gold and silver stood on the hill overlooking the lake. It was fitting, he supposed, to have the final showdown be there overlooking the icy waters holding the sand he’d fallen into.

They’d woken up to an alarm blaring through the apartment, invading the halls and the living room where they had taken to sleeping in sleeping bags on the floor and couch. With cold precision they got into their outfits hoping the suits would bolster their nerves and create an impenetrable strength.

Ross stood at the base of the hill, looking with a cool detachment at them. His white mustache stood out in the dust light along with the hordes of men on either side of him.

“You would do well to abandon any hope of success. You know you can’t win this fight. I know you can’t win.” Peter fisted his hands at his sides and took a step forward. Tony placed his in front of his chest.

“Careful now, Peter.”

“As my mother used to say,” Tony said projecting down in his confident airy manner. “You’re too damn stubborn for your own good. You won’t get away with what you’re planning.”

“Time works mysteriously, doesn’t it? Maybe I already have.” Cold pooled in his stomach. Ross knew about the time travel but did he know how? Peter didn’t even know how it happened. They all tensed at the implications. Was their fight lost before it had even begun?

Tony growled under his breath. But it was Rhodey who remained silent in his calculations, almost too still until with a burst of movement his blasters ignited and he was off toward Ross.

“Rhodes! Shit.” Tony yelled. He was down the hill following his friend. Peter was frozen where he was. Heedless of his nerves and the will to fight, fear pooled in his stomach. It didn’t matter how many times they went over plans, how many hours they spent in anticipation. Something held him back for a moment. But a second was all it took. Rhodey impacted with the first man who protected Ross and Tony was right beside him before too long. They used every weapon and trick in their arsenal including the teamwork they’d honed through the years. Person after person rose up as they fought the previous down. All the while Peter saw that Ross was smirking.  His cool, grey eyes watching with a sick glee as Tony and Rhodey fought on, tiring themselves out.

Peter realized he was playing with them. Using their battle for his pleasure. Ross’s eyes flickered up to where Peter was standing and then he pulled something out of his pocket. The metal glinted with the light of the setting sun and chaos around them. It looked familiar in its shape but Peter couldn’t quite place it until it was put into us. Ross moved like a feline, confident and strong. The men parted around him and razor fast he was in front of Rhodey. He plunged the device in his neck and Rhodey coughed, sputtering blood before falling without anytime to counter or defend himself.

Tony turned his head and let out a strangled scream. He swore at Ross and fought harder to get where Ross was standing. This time Ross let his opponent come to him with a smile on his face. Tony, emboldened by anger and despair, ran toward Ross not noticing the others were letting him through, not caring this was the plan.

Peter felt a shift of the sand around him and tugged against it harder, willing himself into movement. It was giving way against his efforts and as Tony stood in front of Ross, he was let free. Peter began running down the hill, breath stammering in his chest. He watched as Tony punched Ross, got the upper hand, and then witnessed as Ross smiled again, cold and deadly, before he spun Tony around and pressed the metal device against his neck. He whispered something to Tony before pressing it further into his neck. Blood ran down the corners of his mouth. Tony clawed the hands squeezing his neck. Ross pressed harder. Peter ran faster but he was too late. Tony’s eyes rolled back into his head. Iron Man suit and all, slipped out of Ross’s arm and fell to the ground.

Peter fell to his knees in front of his friends. Their eyes unmoving in unnatural stillness. He reached out his hands and placed them on their cold metal suits. How could they be down so easy? They were Avengers, they were fighters and they were gone.

He glared at Ross burning with anger. Ross’s smile moved not an inch. He stepped toward them and nudged Rhodey’s side causing his arm to flop over. Flashbacks of May’s apartment, f that day rose in his mind.

“Leave them alone! Leave me alone!” He screamed and tried to gather them away from Ross. Ross bent forward and plucked Peter up, too easily for any normal human. He sneered at Peter heedless of his flailing arms and dragged the metal down his side. Burning pain erupted in his stomach. His hands clutched at the wound, the blood beginning to drip down and staining his red suit dark maroon. Ross twisted the metal device in his gut before dropping Peter to the ground next to the two fallen Avengers.

“I don’t want you. I told you, Peter, death will always follow you. Time and space are no concern because of who you are and nothing will ever change what is to be. Have all your efforts ever changed anything? Look what happened,” He said motioned to them in his arms. “Your friends are dead and there is nothing you can do to stop it. I knew you were the key. We had planned for it to be done so much earlier, when Stark was going to die by suicide and James would fall and freeze in this damned lake but then something happened. You happened and nothing we did would change the outcomes. They lived despite our plans. But then we discovered you. It’s ironic you led them to their demise at the end when you worked so hard to save them earlier. I told you to remember those words, Peter Parker.”

He stared at the man’s grey eyes. The cold glint in them tinged with glory for his cause. To rid the world of two good men, two men who would do anything, including give their lives for their friends and the world. But Peter wasn’t the same boy he’d been in the apartment with May all those years ago. He had spun through time itself to get back here. He had traveled years and space to be right here. The sand spun around him and he knew it he could win. Peter believed everything had led to this moment.

Peter knew time now. Could see the hourglass in the reflection of those evil eyes. It was within his reach. Sand particles gravitated toward him like an old friend. The lake completely iced over behind them seemed to hum in Peter’s ears.

He hugged his friends closer for a moment. Staring at their empty eyes and faces devoid of a smile. Ross laughed at him, basking in his triumph and Peter took a deep breath. He held his stomach and felt the blood seep out of him. Death indeed did follow him through life, dogging his steps and shadowing him but he had to do something before it could take him as well. His time wasn’t over yet. He could save them.

Peter concentrated on the sand pieces around him, falling and settling on his person, and stilled it around him like a cloak only he could see. The sand floated there before he closed his eyes and concentrated on reversing its direction. The sand began falling upward. Peter poured everything of himself into the motion and prayed it would be enough.

He opened his eyes and could see as time reversed. Ross was laughing and walking away from him. He was standing and moving toward the bodies of Rhodey and Tony. And their bodies moved, they got up from their resting spots. The fight began again in knew. Peter watched himself run back up the hill before he walked to were Ross was, invisible to all in the cloak of the sand. He waited with a strange calmness until the sand stopped rising. He smiled when it fell down again and Peter let go of his concentration.

The urge to kill Ross grew strong. He stood behind the man who was unaware of his presence. The act would be so easy. It almost consumed him but then he remembered Ross’s words. That wasn’t the life he wanted to lead anymore. Death would follow him no longer. Peter drew back his hand and brought it forward with as much strength as he could muster.

Not even seeing who brought him down Ross crumpled on impact. Undignified and ungraceful, he fell to the ground. All the men froze where they were as their boss was suddenly not awake. Rhodey and Tony blinked as he, for a moment, was in two spaces at once. They jerked to look at the top of the hill where he was still frozen before, in a blink of an eye, he disappeared.

Tony punched the man in front of him before smirking.

“And I thought one Peter was enough.”

“The fuck is this?” Rhodey said finishing off the people around him with ease. Their confusion led to an easier fight and soon there were none left standing.

They ran toward him, each taking a side of his face in their hands. Their thumbs wiped under his eyes and Peter realized tears were running down his face.

“What happened Peter?”

“Are you okay?” They said at the same time.

“I’m okay, guys. I’m…” He gasped as his side pulled. The wound felt hallow and full at once. They all glanced down at his stomach. He peeled his hand away and felt a wave of dizziness overcome him. The blood was still there. It hadn’t been erased after all.

“You are not fine. We need to get him to a…”

Their words filtered out of his ears and something was weighing him down. Peter took a step forward. His knees crumpled but there was no impact. Arms enveloped him and the burning in his side disappeared. He smiled and sent a thankful thought to the lake behind him.

They were safe and alive, and for now it was enough. The sand cloaked him in a thin layer and Peter fell into darkness.

Thank you!

Next chapter Twenty-Two: Finale

[corpse--diem]

History Repeats | Arthur & Erin

With: @arthurjdrake

After being practically stuck inside for nearly a month with her undead father, going anywhere else was like a breath of fresh air. So when the idea struck Erin to get caught up on some work at Coffee Plus struck her, she was out of the door faster than she could put her jacket on. From the second she walked in the door, she was reminded instantly of her previous trip here. Her and Regan had sat right to her left. The woman who’d yelled at them not far from it. A small smile tugged at her lips, before the overwhelming panic that came with the rest of that stroll down memory lane. Confident that there was no hypnotist in the area, her eyes rolling to herself at the thought, she grabbed a coffee and settled in with her tablet. She was getting behind on her obituaries--another fun detail most people weren’t aware she took care of. Knee-deep in some family history and photos, her eyes happened to glance up above her screen, then back down again. Then, instantly, right back up. Was she seeing this right? She sat back, taking a good, hard look at the picture of the man on her screen--a man who had died years ago. Then, back to the man she had just seen step into the cafe. It was completely unintentional, and totally rude, but she couldn’t stop staring at this man.

It had been at least a couple of lifetimes since Arthur had been in White Crest - always ending up wherever Mercy happened to travel that coincided with his rebirth cycle. His death the last time in this town had been unfounded and quite mundane - gunned down after accidentally stumbling in on an altercation between two feuding families. He’d started a life here and made a couple of friends. The ending really was quite unmemorable. A shotgun blast to the abdomen had put an unfortunate end to what had been a relatively mediocre existence. Thankfully, some things about it had changed. Admittedly while getting his afternoon cup of coffee at what was fast becoming a frequent haunt for him, he wasn’t expecting to feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at the indication that someone was staring at him quite intently. The sensation caused him to bristle a little, before a marginal turn of his head opened his peripheral just enough to spot the responsible party. His brow furrowed for a moment at the look of shock on her features, glancing over his other shoulder to check if it was not him, but someone else she was staring at… But there was only empty space beyond. Glancing back once more to the women he fixed her with an uncertain and slightly questioning look not recognizing her from anywhere in particular. Taking the time to order and collect his drink, he circled back, approaching her table until his six foot three frame loomed beside it. “Apologies ma’am… I couldn’t help but… uh… notice… You were giving me a strange look… If I’ve done… something to offend you” not that he was sure what he could’ve done to a stranger but in a town like this who knew “please know that I’m quite apologetic for... whatever seems to be the issue.”

Erin knew she should have stopped staring at some point--the man clearly noticed. But she couldn’t help herself. Couldn’t help glancing back up and then down at the photo, again and again. The photo that was far older than what this man could have possibly been. Oh shit--she must have been staring too long, and too hard because after a few moments, he was heading her way. And he was apologizing to her? She pulled her tablet closer to her, shaking her head. “No, God, I’m sorry. Please don’t apologize.” She bit her lip, trying to decide if she was going to share or not. Was that weird? Ah, hell. “I just--” she paused again, fighting with herself until she eventually just gave in. “You don’t happen to know the Crane’s in town, do you? Or are you related to them?” She stood from her spot slowly, tablet in hand, as she zoomed in on the somewhat blurry black and white photo. But now that she held the photo up so he could see. “You see why I was staring now though, right?”

Arthur couldn’t help but blink as after his apology for whatever he’d done to give offence to make this woman stare at him as though he’d grown another head, she offered up one of her own. To say he was perplexed was perhaps a bit of an understatement. To steady any growing nerves, Arthur took a slow sip of his coffee, the familiar bitter taste washing away some of his anxiety over this stranger somehow seeming to think him familiar. “Okay… then, forgive me but I’ve got to ask… Why were you staring at me as if I’ve got another head.” But his answer was provided a few moments later. Crane. A name that had served its purpose when he’d been passing through town before an… untimely demise. “Um… Ha, funny question that but… Yes, I think I have some familial connections back to this town… I think my great great grandfather used to live around these parts...” he smiled though it dimmed fractionally as she turned around her tablet revealing a photograph of him… 1800s style portraiture. Black and white. Distinctly recognisable of a slightly younger self if you looked close enough. “Oh… wow, that’s… Damn that’s pretty scary… He looks…” Arthur swallowed but let very real shock simply play into the reaction he gave as he gestured for a moment before taking the tablet and peering at it with interest. “Where’d you find this?”

Erin was relieved at how calm this man was, despite the abrupt prying and staring. A real killer first introduction, she thought as she watched him nervously sip his coffee. But it was too late to go back now, wasn’t it? But the familial link made sense, and she was growing more curious and more excited about the discovery. “Great-great grandfather? No way,” she grinned, unabashedly scanning over his features as he studied the photo himself. “You guys could be straight up dopplegangers,” she said, watching the shock settle over his face. This was as weird as it was cool, but his curiosity ignited further intrigue on her part. “I’m a funeral director and--” Oh. She paused, realizing that she might have actually overstepped this time. Especially if this was his family. She cleared her throat, trying to carry on without skipping too much of a beat. “And I was given a whole digitized album of family pictures to include for the memorial. I was just going through them, writing the obituary, when your face--or, your grandfather’s face--popped up.”

Thankfully several lifetimes could serve when it came to being shocked, though this had certainly not been how he’d seen his day unfolding. His fingers tightened a fraction on the mug, though his smile remained amicable if a little disturbed by this apparent discovery. “I think… Yeah… Well, uh I guess.” Admittedly on the spot he ran through a list of potential explanations in his mind but her clarification as to why she was digging around through old obituaries caused his eyes to widen a little. Some of the tension in his chest unwound fractionally at the revelation and it gave him a bit more time to think. “Aah… That’s… Yeah that’s a bit less weird then, though you’re right the resemblance is… spooky” he laughed. The sound more than a little awkward in its delivery and at the situation he presently found himself feeling quite floundered in. “That’s why I… um, came here - to this town that is” he clarified quickly “not… this coffee shop. That’d really be weird.” He raised a hand to scratch behind his ear, “because research not just… for that” he indicated the photo with an awkward nod “but research… generally. I teach you see - at the university. History. I teach history.... I’m a historian.”

This poor guy, Erin had to laugh to herself. Here he was just trying to get a cup of coffee in peace and he’d barely made it through the door before a small spectacle was made of himself. Still, the curiosity tugged harder than her sense of good manners. Curiosity prevailed. “It is spooky,  isn’t it?” She narrowed her eyes gently in his direction, gesturing towards the open seat across from the table the rest of her things occupied. “Do you have a minute to join me?” She asked, starting to shuffle back towards her seat. “Maybe this is kismet, you know? Like, how else would you describe something like this?” She offered a smile at him, hoping to convey her appreciation for him humoring her as much as he already had. But before she sat, she finally remembered her sense of human civility. “Shit, I’m sorry--I’m Erin, by the way. Erin Nichols,” she reached for his hand, smiling a little bigger and softer. “You can’t tell me you’re not a little curious, especially as a historian.”

“Super spooky,” Arthur agreed, wondering what kind of predicament he’d gotten himself into with this conversation. But he’d gone and put his foot in it hadn’t he? So what else could he do but sit and try to figure out how best to resolve this situation. “Well… I was-” he debated on making up some sort of excuse of a thing he’d been intending on doing, but unfortunately this was a touch more pressing. At least he could be present whilst she did her digging, who knew what she might turn up if he wasn’t around to add a little bit of clarification to it. “But… uh sure…” He internally sighed at the turn of events as he moved to take the proffered seat. “Maybe, or just a really weird coincidence.” Who could say for sure but he returned her smile with a faint albeit genuine one of his own. Always amicable even if he did feel like he was struggling to tread water. The sudden remembrance of civility drew forth a soft huff of a laugh, “all good, Arthur Drake… Pleasure to meet you Erin,” he greeted as he took her hand and shook it politely with a warmer look. “Yeah… Okay you’ve got me,” his smile grew into a little bit of a shy grin “still wasn’t how I was expecting this day to turn out… So how’d you find that anyway? An obituary of someone who passed recently or?”

Erin grinned wider when the man finally seemed to be ceding to her request, even if a bit reluctantly. “I won’t keep you long. I pr--” The word almost slipped from her mouth and Erin pretended to cough to cover up the hiccup. No fucking way was she uttering the ‘p-word’ in the very same place her and Regan had been just a month ago. “Excuse me. Scout’s honor. Not trying to deter your day too much.” It took a moment for her it to click, but the name smacked her with familiarity. Arthur Drake. She nodded, though she was half-distracted as she tried to pull a faint memory from the depths of her brain to connect it. “Yeah, like I said--the family decedent recently passed, so the family gave me their files to go through and put something together for the service and the obituary. It’s pretty common--” she halted mid speech, temporarily forgetting the whole reason this man was here. Instead, focusing on who he was. “Arthur Drake! Wait!” She pointed to him, new enthusiasm in her voice. “You’re Mercy’s Arthur. I mean, you know her. Mercy.” Her eyes narrowed slightly as she recalled the conversation, though a slight, very knowing smirk sat on the tip of her lips.

The sudden way she cut herself off from saying what Arthur could only assume was promise didn’t escape his attention. She’d gotten his attention and now that she had it little slips were something that would be noted and collected, filed in his mind to formulate a better understanding on this strange mortician that seemed to somehow find him of apparent interest. “Alright… I guess I can spare a little time.” How long would depend. But for now it would suffice to give her a bit of leeway. “I see... Well… from what I know he didn’t have any kids of his own this side of the pond… But it’s possible he might’ve fostered a few people and that’s how the name got connected.“ Arthur knew for a fact that was exactly what had happened, but he wasn’t about to admit that. “I’m English myself… Most of my heritage is as well from what little I know of it…” His fingers lightly rubbed at the angle of his jaw as he tried to run the approximate timelines in his head, gods this was going to get confusing. Thankfully he was spared from those calculations by Erin’s sudden exclamation that initially made him blink and then look a fair bit more sheepish than he already had. There was no helping his mild cringe, “ah--- not her Arthur… Well, yes her Arthur but… Not in that sense… Because I’m not… hers. Uh… shit, yes, Gods… What’s she been saying about me? How do you know her?”

What a strange, nervous, little man, Erin thought quietly to herself. His reaction to her inquiry about Mercy was interesting, though. “Mmhmm…” She nodded thoughtfully, unable to hide the little smirk. “We’re old friends. She’s one of the few people in this town who’d gladly scale a cliff with me instead of listing all the reasons why I shouldn’t.” After the past few weeks she’d had, she’d likely give the woman a call for that. Turned her attention back to the screen in her hand, trying to be nonchalant. “Some good things, don’t worry,” she offered pleasantly, but that was all she would say on the matter, recalling how back-and-forth her friend had been when she recalled their Arthur Drake conversation. She halted mid-scroll, the amusement falling from her features suddenly, features narrowing into pure concentration. An older photograph emerged, one from more than a few decades before the original one she had first shown Arthur. Identical. She held the photo up, eyes wide. “Is--do you see that too?”

“Old friends… Huh, interesting” Arthur clicked his tongue a little as he eyed Erin for a moment not quite sure what to make of that statement. “Yeah that definitely sounds like her…” He couldn’t help the way his gaze intensified however in the interim, trying to decipher the code of what constituted good things. The talk of Mercy in all honesty had distracted him temporarily from what they were even ‘researching’. By ‘researching’, it wasn’t Arthur’s typical proactive contribution to sessions as typically befitted his interest in the topic. It was more Erin looking through certain documentations while Arthur asked the odd question here and there trying to look interested while wondering just what this woman might know. That was until Erin froze, and Arthur’s eyes snapped to the screen trying his best to contain his sudden panic. Oh shit. Thankfully at that point his phone vibrated. He snatched up his phone and quickly thumbed open a note tilting the screen just enough to hide its contents as he rushed to fake texting out a reply “oh gods, I’m sorry… my um, tortoise… is really ill and needs food...“ He shot her an apologetic look quickly getting to his feet “well, this was fascinating… Really, but um, yeah… Gotta go, good luck…” With a minor wave, Arthur shot straight for the door cursing this whole venture in his mind. What had he gotten himself into?

[disabled-queen-hc-blog]

Sunrises and Sunsets

Anon asked: Gonna bring back autistic!joger and ask for a proposal :))))

Your wish is my command, love.

There were thousands upon thousands of crystalline lights shimmering and dancing on top the purple water. The waves rolled in, slowly but steadily, the white foam whispering hisses as it reached the shore, only to slide back into the depths. The sand, like tiny shards of glass, glinted at the setting sun, the sky and puffy clouds brilliant shades of orange and pink. Colors that shouldn’t go together, but somehow did when painted on by mother earth.

John breathed in the salty air, eyes fluttering shut as a gust of wind blew through his curly hair. His toes and fingers sunk into the scratchy sand, taking in the feeling of the majesty that was the beach at dusk. There wasn’t a soul around him, besides the gulls cawing in the horizon and Roger, who sat right next to him.

Roger was reclined on a folding chair, shades drawn down, eyes focused on the glistening sea before them, listening to the purr of the ocean and crackle of the shifting sand. It was magnificent, he had to admit. There was something about witnessing a sunrise or sunset that reminded you that the world could be beautiful. Even when things were hard or confusing or wrong, living and being alive and continuing on was so worth it. Even if it was all just to watch another sunset.

That sentiment never rang so true until now. Roger’s life had been filled with strife. Teased mercilessly by other children for acting different and threatened cold-bloodedly by other adults for loving different. His life was one of more personal failures than victories. It could’ve been so easy to give up, throw in the towel. He could’ve changed how he acted, mimicking others for the sake of the world rather than himself. He could’ve dated a nice girl, not for his own satisfaction but for the leering eyes around him. He could’ve done so many things differently at the cost of who he was.

But he didn’t. Sticking true to his character, he kept on going, kept fighting. All for the hope of seeing another sunrise.

And look where that got him?

Under their beach umbrella, John laid back, his hair puffing out around his head like a halo, grey eyes landing on the man next to him. A gap-toothed smile grew on his face as he rested his hands on his stomach, a faint blush spreading onto his face. It’s been 10 years since they got together and John still couldn’t look at Roger without going absolutely pink.

“I had a lot of fun today,” John said, his gaze falling down to stop the fluttering in his tummy.

“Did you?” Roger asked, smiling too, failing to resist the urge to lightly pinch John’s cheek, which made him squeak and squirm.

Today really had been tremendous. It was date day. Every first Wednesday of the month was. They started off with breakfast in a little diner. John with a mile-high stack of pancakes and Roger’s usual tea and bacon, eggs and toast.

Next was a mid-morning walk around the park. It was the park Roger had asked John to be his boyfriend in. The coincidence was not lost on John, who happily pointed to the bench where it all happened, clapping as he recalled the memory. God, Roger had been so sweaty. He was a nervous sweater, unfortunately. Not that it mattered to John. After he had agreed, the spent the better part of an hour jumping around like idiots, both getting drenched in sweat.

They sat there and talked for a while, about nothing in particular, about the weather, about the dishwasher in their house that was broken, about the songbirds fluttering about. At noon, they departed.

It was a week day, so the bowling alley was empty. Just how John preferred it. No cacophony of dozens of people chattering, 5 balls crashing at once, cheers and groans. It was just the two of them. And to be honest, they both were horrible at the game, so not having witnesses to their mediocrity was another benefit. They did try their damnedest though. They would howl with laughter when the other got a ball in the gutter and flap away when they knocked even a single pin down. The one worker manning the fort couldn’t help but to chuckle at the two hyper men as they fist bumped after getting a combined score of 60.

After a rigorous hour bowling their hearts out and with stomachs filled with stale pretzels, it was time to go to the movies. They picked a scary movie because getting scared was fun even if it wasn’t romantic. John loved to pretend he was so scared that he needed Roger to hold him. Roger loved that too, squishing John up to him in his arms while John just giggled as if they were the only two people in the theater. But this time around, Roger seemed nervous. He kept fidgeting in his seat, fingers drumming away quietly on the arm rests. John thought maybe the movie was too scary for Roger, so this time he held the drummer and made a mental note to watch a comedy come next date night. Roger just smiled, still fidgety as ever even in his boyfriend’s grip.

They both exited the thriller, eyes wide and mouths agape. The movie had been much more frightening than anticipated, the both of them clinging to each other only half way through. But they made it out alive, dignities not intact. Roger let out the shrillest (and cutest) scream at one point.

This was usually the end of their date, so they both hopped into Roger’s car and got onto the road. John started to talk about the movie and speculate on theories when he stopped abruptly, tugging on Roger’s shoulder.

“You missed a turn!” He said, watching as the exit to their part of the city flew past them.

“I know,” Roger said with a cheeky smile, eyes still on the road.

“Aren’t you gonna turn around? There’s no way to get back home from here if you keep going,” John said, head cocked forward to get into Roger’s peripheral vision.

“Nope,” Roger replied, chuckling.

John sat back in his seat, eyes squinted, very confused. He side eyed Roger, not sure what the blond had in mind. It was date night after all. He could’ve added something secretly to the agenda.

Which was a mistake on Roger’s part because John hated secrets. Christmas was hell.

While he rocked back and forth in his seat, John asked, “Where are we going?”

“’S a secret,”

“Where are we going?”

“I dunno,”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere!”

“Where?”

“A place,”

“Wheeerrreeeeeeeeee?”

“The beach!”

Roger was bad at keeping secrets especially while being grilled so geniusly by John, who now sat quietly stimming with his fingers, a big grin on his face. Cute bastard.

It took them awhile to get there, Roger parking the car as the sun started its slow descent in the sky. John kicked off his shoes as Roger pulled out the two beach chairs and umbrella he had in the boot of his car.

The couple lugged what little cargo they had onto the most perfect spot on the near deserted beach, right by some hills that provided them with some additional shade. After a brief set up, they sat and watched as the world grew darker and quieter and all the more beautiful.

Another salt laden breeze tickled through their hair, the thunder of crashing waves echoing through the beach. They didn’t even notice, grey and blue eyes holding on another’s stare, mixing somehow to make a rainbow.

Stuttering hearts. Shaking limbs. Abated breathe. Just like it was 10 years ago. Just like it was every single day. Now was the time, Roger thought. The perfect moment.

He got up from his chair, head woozy with anticipation. He kneeled down, both knees digging into the sand and began to speak, voice trembling.

“John Richard Deacon, I love you. You know that. You have given me so much love, clarity and support this past decade that I’ve had the privilege of loving you. You’re my best friend, my confidant, my lover and you just get me. And I need you to know it doesn’t go unnoticed,”

“All I ever want is for you to be happy. To be safe. To feel loved. I never thought I’d be a man to, um, settle down and all, but you did that. You.”

“John, I want to listen to you talk about Snow White and wires and basses for the rest of my life. Will you be my husband?”

Roger reached into his pocket, pulling out the box that was weighing on his mind all day and opened it.

John came face to face with the ring, mouthing dropping, eyes going wide. He couldn’t even say anything; his brain had stopped working from the shock. So, he did the next best thing.

He tackled Roger to the ground, attacking his face with kisses, overwhelmed tears dripping down his cheeks.

John was never good with words, so Roger considered this the yes he’d been dreaming of for the past few months.

He laughed, wrapping his arms around John, eyes shut as he let himself be drowned in kisses. His heart was still beating loudly in his chest, not from anxiety anymore, but relief.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” he said, voice muffled by John’s rapid-fire kisses and blubbering.

“Yes! Yes!” John repeated back, voice finally able to make intelligible words again.

“Well, put the ring on, you animal,” Roger said, still clutching the opened box in his hand. John’s ear grew hot, rolling off of Roger and holding his left hand out. That’s how they did it in movies, right?

Roger shook off some sand before he sat up, pulling the ring out and slipping it delicately onto John’s finger. It fit like a charm.

“Like Cinderella,” John whispered. Roger nodded with a grin.

John looked down at the ring, taken aback by its simple beauty. A plain gold band flickered with the suns dying rays, three circle cut diamonds sitting in a row, the middle one the largest.

“It’s gorgeous,” he mouthed

“It is,” Roger replied, grabbing John’s hand in his own and kissing the knuckles softly.

They sat in an awed silence, glancing at rings and the loves of their lives before John blurted out, “I’ll have to get you a ring too. A big one,” While John enjoyed modesty, Roger was far from it. He’d need a ring that’d put their friend Elton John to shame. Something obnoxious, shiny and did he mention shiny?

Roger waggled his eyebrows, only imagining what John would concoct in the jewelers. A lot of square cuts. And silver, oh silver looked pretty on him. And a-

“Look, the sun’s already set,” John pointed to the sky using his left hand, the sky now a light navy, a few stars already shining through the cloak of night.

Roger hmmed in surprise, never even having noticed the sun dipping so dangerously below the horizon. He’d made it past another sunset.

John without so much as a word got up onto his feet and starting flapping, hopping about. He’d never been so shocked that he forgot to stim before. It was time to get all those rumbly sparklers out from him.

“We’re married!” he shouted, the empty beach shouting it back to him. He flapped so hard, hair bouncing, head shaking from side to side.

Roger shared the sentiment, getting up to jump on the sand, which was harder than it looked, flapping and squealing back, “We’re getting married!”

“Married! Married!” the two said, bouncing around the beach, the sky littered in stars, the waves frothing and rolling and the wind cool. They continued their celebration, holding hands and yelling excitedly until their knees hurt and they were covered in sweat.

10 years of sunrises and sunsets and nothing had changed.

[whitewolfbumble]

A Year of Firsts - Part One (Bucky x Reader, Request)

Summary: It wasn’t supposed to be a year of firsts, but then you met Bucky and everything started to fall into place.

Request: Can you do a Bucky x Reader college AU?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None! Just pure, cotton candy fluff here!

Word Count: About 5k

A/N: Thank you for the request darling! I wrote out a full fic with Bucky and the reader in college but it got dark and I didn’t love it. Maybe it will see the light of day sometime but not yet. This one is less college-y (a lot less... like very much so… I do apologize) and so much fluffier. We get some Soft Bucko trying to re-enter the world post-Hydra, because I needed some healing cuteness in my life! 

MY MASTERLIST // SEND ME A REQUEST

Your first conversation:

Working part-time while being in school full-time was a balancing act to be sure. And yeah, maybe you weren’t just out of high school anymore and taking on such a cost and time commitment was going to be insanely hard, but you were determined to do it. It was now or never and you had promised yourself you weren’t going to hold back anymore.

You had thought last year that getting into your first year of business school would be just a complete year of firsts and a massive life change. Well, it was nothing compared to your second year and it all started with one particular customer.

You had seen him about six times now, always sitting in the far corner facing out to the rest of the restaurant. His back was always to the wall and looked as though he wished to slink back into the shadows completely. But to be honest he was impossible not to notice coming in anyways, his frame and size just about making you drop your tray of linguini the first time he zoomed passed you exiting the kitchen.

Your little Italian restaurant (well, in the year since working here you had come to think it as yours and not merely a part-time job) was on a small New York side street, soft white string lights illuminating the always unused patio and red checkered tablecloths inside. The place was dotted with little candles, the warmth in the flames combined with the rich wood floors and exposed brick walls with delicate homey touches to create a beautifully intimate space.

It was never busy, never chaotic, never changing. Kinda just how you liked it.

Your regulars filtered in and out, talking amiably to you. All but the new guy that had been coming out recently. You guessed he was considered a regular now and when you had a moment to pause and watch him, you tried to work him out.

And try as you might, you could never figure out who the hell he was meeting here or why, with a different person as his dinner companion every single time.

One time it was a tall gentleman he met with, bookish and looking like a kind of professor. Another time a woman, pretty but much too old for him. Then someone much too young. They were all shapes and sizes and genders and types. No pattern, no rhyme, no reason.

It was so confusing.

He was a quiet kind of person, non-fussy, and left a great tip too. He kept whatever conversation he was having low and generally unheard by you. And you left him alone as much as you could (since it was clear that was exactly what he wanted) while still doing your job.

“Anything else I can get you?” you asked this mystey man.

“No, thank you.” he said quietly, sitting alone now that the grey-haired, leather jacket wearing guy had left him. Your new regular always stayed maybe half an hour after, thinking and ringing his hands.

“Who can I expect next time?” you said venturing another question and prying just a little as you carefully cleaned up the table, the man leaning way back from you, as he always did. At first you thought you had smelled bad, but over the weeks you figured it was just him. His personal bubble must just be a little larger than most.

“Not sure myself.” he said, looking down with a silent huff, clearly not impressed. It made the long ends of his hair fall down around his face, hiding him from view a little.

That response got a frown from you, but you left it there.

“Well,” you said lightly, plopping the tray on the empty chair and pulling out a clean cloth from your back pocket. “Keep this for the next time, just in case.”

He looked at the white cloth quizzically, slowly taking it when you didn’t pull it away.

“Why, exactly?” he questioned, brows furrowed and looking more than a little skeptical.

You grabbed your tray and shrugged. “Next time your company is less than stellar, wave that white flag in my direction and I’ll coming running to save you.”

You winked at him with a warm smile on you face, grabbing your tray of dishes and leaving the surprised looking man behind.

Your first smile from him:

From there, slowly, you got to know him a little more as the days went on.

His name was Bucky, he was a Brooklyn native, and loved spaghetti (which was just about the most boring and mediocre dish they offered here in your opinion, but you didn’t judge). And despite his rampant awkwardness and attempts at keeping everyone and everything at arm’s length, you thought you were breaking that shell a little.

It was late and the restaurant was empty now, just the kitchen staff in the back and the owner counting the till in the back room. Besides that it was just you and Bucky out on the floor, who was sitting quietly in his usual hidden corner at the back.

“So, there’s a mystery I’ve been trying to solve,” you started lightly, walking up the table. “And I think you are just the man to help me.”

“Me?” he asked you, confused but with a hint of cautious curiosity.

“It’s about a new regular of mine. Well, maybe he’s not new, but he always comes in at the same time, twice a week, sits at the same table, orders the same meal. The most boring one we have, by the way, but that’s besides the point. The only thing that’s different are the people that meet him.”

You smiled softly, raising your eyebrow, the twinkle of the little lights in your eyes. You tried not to tease him too much or make him feel awkward with your questions, but you just had to figure this out.

He shifted in his seat a little, luckily seeming slightly more chatty (for him anyways) after his boring looking session with a rather silent pregnant woman.

“The team thinks I need some… socialization.” he muttered, looking either embarrassed or uncomfortable. Probably both. Poor guy.

You had wondered before if he was writing a paper or doing research, but had no clue how the subjects would connect. And moreover he was never writing notes or anything. You had thought through and imagined him at the same college you attended, wondering what kind of program someone like him would take and what kind of research he was doing. But it just seemed more likely that this was just as simple as conversations with strangers.

You leaned back where you stood with your gaze narrowed, sizing him up as he watched you from the corner of his eyes, cheeks a tinge of red under your scrutiny.

“I’m gonna guess hockey or football… Probably football,” you said, nodding his way absently. “Actually wait, no, you look more like a rugby kinda player. I’ll bet a hundred bucks on rugby.”

You ended up beaming smugly at him, confident in your assumption, though it was met with another confused look and furrowed brows from this enigma of a person.

“What’re you talking about?” Bucky said.

“The team. Your team you talked about, getting you to socialize,” you said, picking up his empty glass and cutlery, noticing for the first time in all your (or any) interactions that he didn’t lean away. “I’d guess you play rugby and it’s your rugby team.”

A smile broke out on his face, forcing its way passed his constant reservations. You maybe thought you heard a breathy chuckle as you stepped back and he leaned forward closer to you, elbows on the table.

“Sorry, you lost that bet after all. It’s a uh, much different kind of team.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, frowning. “Well, it’s just you have quite the… I mean your arms… But like, your shoulders are…”

You gestured awkwardly to your own shoulders, eyes animated and trying to convey just how much of a body builder type this guy looked (but also tried to hide it? Weirdly enough. Like why do all that work to hulk out, just to shy away for showing it off? Well, maybe hence the socialization. But anyway.). As you did, the dishes placed precariously on your tray teetered back and forth, Bucky reaching up reflexively and stabilizing them for you while you spoke.

“Well,” you said with a shrug, ignoring the helpful gesture much to Bucky’s now growing smile. “Whatever team you’re on, I’d like to watch you play. I’m sure I could win a lot of money betting on you.”

You left him be, not seeing the faint and far lingering of a smile on his lips.

After throwing the few dishes left in the ancient dishwasher and turning it on, you walked out to the front just as Bucky was reaching the door to leave.

You ran up to him without really thinking about it, grabbing his arm to stop him. Bucky turned immediately looking at your hand on his bicep, rather seeming surprised by the connection.

“Listen,” you said quietly to him. “I feel the need to say this here, that I’m not a gambler? Like, I know I just made a lot of comments tonight to the contrary. I promise, the generous tips you give me at not thrown onto a race track or something like that, I swear.”

Again, he looked at you trying again to hide a smile growing largely. After a second he snorted, shoulders shaking a little with the breathy chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

“Your secret’s safe with me, Y/N.”

“Oh please,” you said good-naturedly, rolling your eyes and pointing a finger at him. “As long as you don’t make the rambling, gambling waitress your dinner topic on your next non-date. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bucky nodded, grinning still as he left, little bell on the door chiming gently at his parting.

From then on when the restaurant was empty (which was often) and after his strangers left, you and he began to talk.

Your first date (well, kinda):

It was Tuesday night, and you were in a foul mood.

Usually Tuesdays meant seeing Bucky. You’d spend all day guessing who you would see at his table, thinking up wild stories and crazy outfits for them, though you were always way off. As soon as they were gone, you’d sit with Bucky who would fill you in on their conversations, leading to conversations of your own.

But your ever-punctual favourite customer was late. And after two hours past the time he usually walked in, you figured he just wasn’t coming at all.

You told the kitchen staff you had a bad day at school to account for your disposition, plastered on a smile for the few other customers that came in, but you couldn’t shake the gloom or disappointment.

The last of the couples in here eventually left, and after cashing them out and cleaning up, it was just you, alone and cranky, re-wiping the already clean tables.

But the little doorbell chimed and a burst of fresh air entered the little space. When you looked up, ready to greet the entering customer, instead you saw him.

“Hey stranger,” you said, not hiding your shock at his unexpected entrance, with the dark cloud that shrouded you instantly lifted. “What’re you doing here so late? I was getting worried, thought you had moved on to a different restaurant.”

That usual reserved, almost stoney look Bucky had to him dissolved at seeing and hearing you, his expression turning soft in the fairy lights.

“I was just outside-”

“Oh god!” you frantically said interrupting him. “Don’t tell me you were the first person ever to want to use our mini patio, and I completely neglected you?!”

“No, no, I was just waiting for people to leave.” he said quickly before swallowing, hands in his pockets, as though that something he shouldn’t be sharing.

“Oh…” you said, pausing. “Why?”

“I waited,” he admitted, his ocean blue eyes locked on yours, reserved but unwavering. “Because I wanted to talk with you tonight.”

You.

Not someone else. A random stranger. But you.

“Oh,” you said dumbly, a little shocked. “Oh… well, okay.”

You unconsciously rubbed your hands on your apron, looking around the empty restaurant. You shrugged to yourself, untying the back of it and wadded the apron up.

“There, I guess I’m off duty. Free to chat.” you said with a smile, nodding him back to his usual table.

Deftly he followed you back, the two of you taking a seat at the little table. But the moment you sat down, you immediately sprung up again like a shot. “Wait, no!”

Bucky watched, surprise and upset clear on his face, but just as seeing you dissolved his last expression, so again he settled into a more content look as you appeared back with two plates of spaghetti and drinks.

“Alright you creep, watching me through the window,” you teased, noticing a bit of heat on his cheeks, though he didn’t try to deny the accusation. “How did the crowd in here look tonight?”

“Hopefully generous…?” he said, swirling the pasta on his fork without looking. Usually he stared at his food with the other strangers he met. It oddly made you well up with a bit of pride he was watching you instead.

“Well, their tips won’t pay off my college tuition just yet, but give it time.” you said.

“How’s that jerk in your political science class?” he asked casually, sipping from his glass and eyes still locked on you. But you smirked at him knowingly, despite his demure expression.

“I mentioned that in passing and what, probably forever ago?” you teased lightly.

He had been paying a lot more attention than you thought.

He nodded with a shrug. “Yeah, a few weeks ago. He still being a jerk?”

“No,” you answered, not wanting to tease him too much for so diligently remembering your little conversations. Because all in all that was pretty freaking cute.

You paused just watching him for a second, a thought bubbling up in you mind; clearly he didn’t need help socializing with you. Again, a pleasant pressure of emotion built in your chest at that.

But you swirled your pasta and carried on.

“Our female professor demolished him last week when he made this stupid, douchebag kinda comment. I don’t think he’s said a word to anyone since. And the entire thinking world heaves a collective sigh of relief, let me just tell you that.”

So you rambled on and he listened, then he rambled and you did the listening (well, as much as someone like Bucky could ramble… which wasn’t much, but you still held on to every single word).

He talked about his best friend Steve and growing up in Brooklyn, and you talked about business school and your work here, juggling both responsibilities. It sounded pretty boring to you, but he listened in enraptured. Even when he looked down at his food, you could tell every ounce of his focus was still on you, he nodding slightly and wheels turning behind those ocean blue eyes of his.

And despite the lousy spaghetti- which he seemed to enjoy immensely- it was about the best dinner you had ever had.

The kitchen staff had long left as closing time had come and gone, but neither of you seemed ready to let go of this night quite yet. You ended out your time with Bucky listening in to your school friends baby daddy drama, while you washed the few dishes and he dried. It was pointless to run the washer just for this, and Bucky didn’t mind, saddling up right next to you as you chatted on, suds up to your elbows.

When it was time to lock up, you cranked down the window gate and shut off the lights. Grabbing your keys before locking the front door, you turned to him.

“So Thursday, will you be late and with me or on time with a stranger?” you said, poking him in the chest. “I’m a big enough person to admit my little heart can’t take all this “will he, won’t he show” stuff, alright? It just throws off my whole day.”

You couldn’t see him flush a little in the dark night, little streetlights not doing much down this little alley by way of light.

“I’ll be here on time with some character we can talk about after, I promise.”

You smiled to yourself, locking the door.

“Good, or I’ll feed you something other than that lousy spaghetti.” you jokingly threatened.

The first time he walked you home:

Thursday had been the highlight of your week. Yes, you actually loved your classes and your job, but to be honest, when you weren’t with him, you were thinking about him.

Tonight was just the same as the others. Waiting for everyone to leave before sitting down and chatting about everything and anything.

As always you locked up, saying your goodbyes with a tease or a smile from you and a crooked grin from him.

Bucky walked down the dark street, head down and hands in his pockets, making his large frame smaller, as he always tried to do. But he turned around before turning the corner, to take a last look at you before his usual visit next week. He saw your face illuminated by your phone screen, frowning into it with a sigh. You clicked it off, shifting on your feet and looking around the dark side street, unsure of something.

“Hanging out here tonight after all?” Bucky asked, walking silently back up to you.

For some reason he stayed back, as though his friendly presence in the dark night wouldn’t be a welcome one. That couldn’t be farther from the truth and you took an unconscious step closer to him.

“My ride just ditched last minute,” you admitted. “I don’t particularly like the idea of spending my tip money on a cab considering I’m not too far from here. So I decided debating the pros and cons in an ill-lit, sketchy-looking New York street was the best option until I undoubtedly get mugged and my dead body found in that dumpster, gnawed on by raccoons and crazed junkies.”

“Lemme walk you home than,” Bucky offered. “And we can go through that pro and con list on the way.”

You hoped the night masked how bright your face shone in that moment, but it could’ve been seen a mile away.

“Sure, alright.” you said, sounding demure and sweet, before setting off down the street. “I wanted to cycle back to that complete weirdo from last week anyways. Has he shown up at your door, yelling at you for salting your meals yet?”

“No, not yet,” Bucky smiled, trying to keep his shoulder from brushing you on the small sidewalk. “But I’m not convinced he won’t. God, he was crazy.”

“I have never heard someone yell so much over salt. Of all things!” you said chuckling to yourself, not noticing how Bucky watched you, eye sparkling at your laugh. “So what other food do you blasphemously and with malicious intent salt unnecessarily?”

It wasn’t long before you two stepped in time with each other, the walk a few blocks to your apartment the most pleasant way you could think of to end your day.

But it had to end eventually, your steps slowly down slightly as you two walked up a sketchy side street to you lowrise apartment building.

“Do you want me to walk you up?” Bucky asked, looking at the building a little concerned.

The building was run down certainly, yells come from one apartment, music blasting through an open window from another, a seedy looking pair drinking something out of paper bags against the side wall.

“It looks sketchy, but generally harmless,” you leaned into him pointing to an open window on the first level, just by the entrance. An old woman was there watching everything, shouting at the two men loitering by the building.

“That’s Grammy Rodrigues,” you started quietly. “She’s a bulldog and keeps an eye out. I promise, she’ll look after me.”

Bucky gave a quick wave as the woman who had turned narrowed eyes to him, more than a little venomous. You waved a little more emphatically than he did, smiling brightly at the old woman.

“Here, just in case she has her hands full.” Bucky said to you, reaching in and pulling on a piece of paper from his pocket, placing it in your hand swiftly.

You took a quick look at it, taking a second to realize his phone number was scribbled on to it. You face moved from confusion to a warm glow.

You didn’t comment on the fact that he already had that written down, like it had been waiting in his pocket for the right time to give it to you. The gesture was far too sweet for you to tease him about it.

“Thanks, I’ll use it for emergencies only…” You continued before he could interrupt. “But maybe also non-emergencies. So pretty much for anything. Meaning you will most definitely live to regret this moment right here, Bucky. Sorry pal, but no one to blame but yourself for this.”

Bucky pursed his lips, trying not to let that crooked grin break into an all-out smile. Still, it completely did.

“Deal.” he said, a little flushed and beaming, find something suddenly quite interesting at his feet.

“Goodnight Buck, and thanks for the walk home.” you said, giving his arm a squeeze.

The pair of you walked off in opposite directions, and for the first time ever you wished you lived much farther from work.

You walked up the steps, leaning on the rail to say hello to your ever watchful neighbour. But your eyes were on the back of Bucky, who pretended not to hear Grammy Rodrigues skipping hellos and remark on how she approved of you not inviting a boy up to your apartment.

Your first text to him:

You flopped into bed, that little piece of paper in your hand. You debated texting for just a second or two before shimmying down, decision made. It didn’t take long for you to add him as a contact and opening up a new text conversation.

Your first time talking about his past:

The next time he came in, you had a hard time not constantly glancing his way. In your defense, he was doing the same to you, stealing glances while his dinner companion chatted on. Whatever the conversation was tonight, it wasn’t half as interesting or enthralling as he found you. You couldn’t help but admit to yourself that you were in the exact same boat, barely paying attention to anything (or any other customer) but him.

Again and as always, he stayed after his companion left, waiting to end the night talking with you.

Immediately when the place was cleared, you sat down, leaning on the table with your head in your hand, smiling at him and heart brimming full of contentment now that you could be with him again.

“Hello, Mr. Barnes.” you said, oozing that bit of contentment.

“Hey Y/N,” he said with a smile, before stopping still as he was leaning in, expression dropping. “Wait… you know my last name? You know… you know who I am?”

You didn’t move from your close and casual position and your good spirits didn’t falter, even if his seemed to be plummeting in front of your eyes.

“I do,” you responded, sounding soft and confident. “I figured it out somewhere along the lines. And I decided I wanted to know you, the guy working to get back into the world. Who eats the worst thing on the menu and seems pretty sweet and unassuming.”

His eyes flitted back up to yours from their downcast position, a swirl of intense emotion happening behind them. It briefly caused your heart to flutter in your chest. His stare held a thousand unspoken words in that moment, and a couple you could guess at. Relief. Joy. Fear. Longing. But he remained silent.

“Can I ask you something?” you said, figuring now as as good a time as any. Any transition would be a little jarring, and this had been weighing on you, however selfish it seemed to swing the conversation back to something about you.

“Anything, Y/N.” he responded immediately, determined.

You wondered what he thought you would be asking him. It wasn’t anything serious exactly or related to his history. It was just kinda… personal, maybe was the right word. You tried to play it off as best you could though.

“You uh, called me beautiful, in your text message. Is that like a thing you call every girl, or just the employees of your favourite restaurant?”

Clearly that wasn’t the question he figured you would ask after revealing you knew who he was. He answered just as determined though, but definitely with some added sweetness.

“Just you, beautiful.” he stated, the little pet name making your heart suddenly flutter all the more.

He said it like everyone called you that. Like you had heard it a thousand times. Like it was fact everyone recognized. Well, none of that was true. Yet somehow here he was, saying it like it was both nothing and everything.

“Well…” you stumbled, composing your face to something neutral (and probably failing). “I can uh, agree to that. I guess.”

“How about another date while you’re at it, maybe?”

You looked back up to him, body leaning across the small table, his baby blues intent even if his words were said casually. For the hundredth time you heart fluttered and sputtered in your chest.

“I think I can manage that too.”

The first night he stayed over:

“Hey,” you whispered into your phone, barely audible. “I uh, I’m sorry for calling so late. I just… Remember how you gave me your phone number for both non-emergencies and emergencies?”

You swallowed, trying not to let sheer panic overtake you.

“Well, I’m just calling to say that I’m in my closet.” you whispered, quiet and hoarse. “My bedroom closet if that makes a difference. Probably not. I tend to ramble in an emergency so buckle in for this one. Because I think this is an emergency. Or maybe it’s not. The point is I don’t know. I mean, either a pigeon or something got into my apartment again, or a person did.”

You huddled down even closer to the floor, arm wrapped around yourself and eyes wide in the total pitch darkness.

“Bucky, there may be a person in my apartment. And like, there really shouldn’t be, if there is. I don’t usually allow randos from off the street break in to rob or murder me or whatever.”

You took a deep silent breath, ears straining to hear another from outside your bedroom.

“So anyway,” you continued, trying to make your voice sound lighter though it most came out sounding pained if anything. “I’m here, in an emergency, calling you. You know, so maybe call me back? That would be cool. Or come down and save me from this murderer. Either or. Also, I really hope you are not sleeping and listen to this in the morning only to find me dead. Okay, sorry, I’ll stop rambling. Thanks, bye.”

You clicked to end the voicemail and tried to think of a way not to either implode from terror or get horribly, horribly murdered.

An endless minute or two later a squeak erupted from you in a petrified shock as your phone buzzed so loudly you thought the whole neighbourhood could hear. Another squeak, this time of sheer delight, almost escaped as you saw the caller was Bucky. 

Answering as fast as you could with your heart absolutely racing, you instantly were confused at unintelligible mumblings and noises on the other end.

“Hello?” you asked hushed and confused into the dark claustrophobic little space.

“Sorry, I’m coming!” he said rushed, sounding like he was running. “I called while I was pulling on a shirt, but I’m outside now and I’ll be there in a few minutes. Don’t move! I’m coming, I’ll be there. Just don’t move.”

You stayed on the line, barely breathing while he rambled on constantly, stringing together more words than you had ever heard him say, telling you where he was and how long he would be every few seconds. His voice was rushed but thankfully trying to stay calm. It inturn kept you somewhat calm and able to not completely lose your sanity while you sat alone in an apartment with a potential intruder.

“I’m at your door now, but it’s locked.” he said, almost making you cry in relief. “If you can’t let me in I’m going to break it down.”

He took a deep breath in like he was about to punch the thing in when you quickly piped up to stop him.

“No!” you said in a frantic whisper. “The landlord would kick me out if he didn’t just flat out kill me first!” 

You struggled to your feet, nerves about stopping your heart as your hand hovered on the closet door.

“I can do this.” you whispered more so to yourself than Bucky, before pushing open the door and full out sprinting like your life depended on it.

“Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!” you shrieked as you bolted through your apartment in the utter darkness, throwing yourself at your front open and retching it open.

You about slammed into Bucky, racing past him to the far side of the hall, block yourself from view with your body.

“Hey Buck,” you whispered rather dully at him, exhausted and relieved, clutching on to his arm for dear life. “Why don’t you come on in. I’ll make some tea while you scare or maim any intruders, huh? That sound good to you? Great let’s just go ahead and do that. Or you know what, we can just burn this building down and forget this whole thing. You know, either or.”

“Stay here,” he said, bending his head down to yours and squeezing your hand a moment, before walking into the pitch black apartment like a man on a mission.

It was a couple stomach twisting minutes before a light flicked on and he emerged.

“So pigeon or murderer?” you asked fidgeting, nervous eyes locked to his. “What’s the verdict?”

“I want to say pigeon,” he said, expression and tone unreadable. Oh god, that did not fill you with a lot of confidence on the pigeon possibility. “Since you did leave your living room window open…”

You groaned, rubbing your face. “Okay, on second thought, I don’t want to know. Because I don’t know if a psychopath or a disease laiden bird running rampant in my place is worse, and I don’t want to know.”

“I can definitively tell you having a murderer in your apartment is much worse than a bird, Y/N.” he said with a frown, blissfully and silently agreeing not to confirm if anyone had been in your place. “C’mon, let’s get you settled back in.”

Bucky led you around your apartment, hand comfortingly on your back the whole way aw he walked with you. He made sure you saw and knew that no one was there, hiding behind a couch or in any closets. 

Soon enough the two of you were back by the front door.

“Windows are locked tight, and I’ll come ‘round sometime to add another lock to your door.” he said, hesitating where he stood. Awkwardly, even while exhausted from interrupted sleep and panic, you were doing the same. “Unless that’s… Well, if you don’t me to uh, go or anything… I… well…”

“No, no,” you said, looking down, brows pulled together. “You should probably… well, I mean… I’ve ruined enough of your night already so…”

You made an effort to smile at him however weakly while you held onto your elbows, absolutely hating the fact that he was about to leave you here alone. It wasn’t fair that you called him at all, and the last thing you wanted to do was make him stay if he didn’t want too, so you tried your best to reassure him. Though it was him that did the reassuring.

“You did not ruin my night,” he said adamantly. So much so you believed him, even though running over in a panic to your apartment in the middle of the night could hardly be deemed as pleasant.

Bucky took a step closer to you, warm hand on your arm. “If you need something or if you’re scared or in danger or just anything, you call me. Always. I’ll be there.”

You swallowed, sleepy eyes getting lost in those calming blue ones. You weren’t sure exactly how much time passed with you just swimming in those blue pools, and Bucky wasn’t aware of his fingers rubbing comfortingly across your skin.

“Can you stay?” you whispered, not aware you had really asked until it was too late to take it back. “I mean, my couch isn’t terrible to sleep on and… I mean, I don’t want to be that dick who calls you twice in one night for no reason, both times because I’m too much a scaredy-cat to survive on my own.”

You watched tension melt from his muscles, with his body relaxing and corner of his mouth turning up a bit. Instantly his response relaxed you too.

“Good, cause I don’t want to be that dick who stays up outside your front door like some overbearing jerk.”

Getting him settled out in the living room with pillows and blankets took all of a couple minutes, the two of you trying not to show to other how much better felt with Bucky staying the night. But that was about all the energy you had left, barely managing to keep your eyes open.

“Okay,” you said, stepping right up to Bucky with your hands up on his shoulders, forgetting both about personal space and proper etiquette in your sleep-drunkenness. “If I forget you are here and you make a sound, expect a call that another pigeon has landed, okay? You can just find me in the closet.”

“Okay, Y/N” he said, face brimming with fondness. You nodded once, turning towards your bedroom.

“Goodnight, you overprotective jerk.” you said sleepily.

“Goodnight beautiful.”

Your first kiss:

Sneaking out because of an early morning class was the hardest thing you had done in a long time, not because of minutes of sleep you got but completely because of the handsome drink of water you left on your living room couch.

He was curled up in a tangle of blankets in the dim light, breath even and face a blank, beautiful expression. It took all you had not to wake him up so you could kiss those soft looking lips, see the hazy sleep in his eyes, feel the warm in his stare and from his skin against yours.

Yeah, leaving had been hard.

But the least you could do was let him sleep after stealing so much of it from him, however much it made your heart lurch in pain. You thankfully didn’t have to wait long to see him though.

Despite it very much being the middle of the week and the middle of the afternoon, Bucky arrived to the restaurant just minutes after you did to start your shift. The place wasn’t technically open yet but you couldn’t think of a better person to see opening that door.

He grinned to you as he walked up to you, and you did the same, forgetting your task of placing cutlery on the tables as soon as you locked eyes on him. The pair of you just stood there a moment before speaking.

“Hello.” he said eventually, low voice like velvet.

You watched the corner of his mouth turn up ever higher, unable to focus on anything but his lips in that moment. Your heart might have been pounding harder than it had the night before, but you steeled your resolve all the same. You had regretted not doing it this morning, and wouldn’t make the same mistake.

“Stand there,” you whispered to him seriously. “I should have done this before, but I’m going to do it now instead.”

You were already close to him, but you took a breath, slowly taking another step closer. It meant your body was now against his, your warm and soft frame to his large, muscular one.

You locked your gaze on his, trying to anchor him there while you pressed yourself against him, wondering and silently demanding that he not break away from you. Bucky stood rigid, body tight and his breath held in his chest. You could see in his eyes his nerves, his longing, his tension. You wanted to see bliss there instead, nothing but pure happiness. All the wonderful and beautiful and safe things he made you feel.

You brushed your fingers along his cheek, his head moving down ever so slightly towards you yet not all the way, hesitant to make the final move.

Instead you raised yourself up on your tiptoes, the length of your body moving like liquid against his. The movement caused him to slowly and unconsciously blink, like he was briefly savouring that feeling of you sliding along him.

Your lips hovered just a fraction above his, parted and licked wet by your tongue, with you taking a moment to build the anticipation of this first kiss. Warm breath mingling together, the heat you were both feeling spilling out into the air around you.

The moment you closed the distance and set your mouth to his, you melted. You went from confident to a love-drunk puddle in his arms. This kiss was sweet like the finest honey, as fiery as the blood pumping through you, as intoxicating as you had ever felt. It wasn’t neat or chaste, but warm and deep, the feeling completely consuming you both.

The moment your parted, hungry lips connected with his, Bucky’s stilled breath and body came to life again. Your soft body against his, your unspoken longing and gentle heat crashing through him like a euphoric shock to his system. Where he was hesitant and rigid, he was now molded to you trying to breath in every piece of you, trying to kiss deeper and harder and as intensely as his bursting heart could handle. His tongue begging for entrance into you, arms enveloped you, heart and body and soul unwilling to let you go.

The tiniest little sound was caught in your throat, the smallest whispered release of longing breathed out into his mouth. At that little moan he lifted across the room and pushed your back against the coarse brick wall, trying with everything to be and contain your whole world. Just as in that moment you were his.

The only thing that could split you apart save death in that moment was the need for oxygen, the two of you somehow needing it at the same moment. Breaking apart was almost painful, everything in you desperate to find your way back to his lips as fast as possible.

You breathed, gasping silently on his shoulder, trying and failing to both catch your breath and shake out the dizziness that was clouding your mind, that overwhelming intoxication. He couldn’t either, clinging to you like he wasn’t ready to let you go, chest heaving against yours, drunk and electrified by your touch.

Completely at the mercy of the best first kiss of your life, the two of you waited and held each other in blissful, intoxicated and bewildered silence, alone in that little restaurant.

PART TWO

A/N: If you want me to write more “firsts” and add on another chapter, let me know! Thanks for reading!

Permanent Tags: @dontpanc, @smodvocate, @bunsterjonez, @buckybonky, @marveloustrashpanda, @hangirl93, @captainrogerrsbeard, @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen, @thisgirllikeme, @jjsoccer11, @innerpandablizzard-blog, @fanatic-fanfic, @mdgrdians, @christinky, @universal-death-of-a-fangirl

Bucky Barnes Tags: @bexboo616 @kaaatniss

[dungeonmastersconsortium]

I started applying for jobs last month and the market is kinda thin for new openings in my field, and my brother asked me why it was so hard, couldn't I just apply everywhere? so I said fuck it and started applying to places I didn't think I was qualified for bc the worst they can do is say no, and i ended up getting a job with one of them so GO FORTH AND HAVE THE CONFIDENCE OF A MEDIOCRE WHITE MAN bc apparently that's the secret to getting the job you want.

Hey, congrats!

[claraxbarton]

This is the PRIME EXAMPLE of go forth with the confidence of a mediocre cishet white man.

you’ve all heard of “faithful translations” now get ready for “unfaithful translations” where i make my translation say whatever the fuck i want because i think the source material sucks ass

[reviverradio]

‘Fargo’ Uses Pop Songs Better Than Any Show On Video

FX / Warner Bros..

As prestige TV proceeds to ape the conventions of theatre, a growing number of TV shows have stepped up their match once it comes to a device near and dear to my own heart — with pop music. Many of the Very Best and most talked-about displays on television do this very well: The Americans, Big Little Lies, Better Call Saul, Mr. Robot, Legion,Halt & Catch Fire. But there is one series that really does it a bit better than the rest, FX’s Fargo.

Filmmakers and showrunners utilize pop songs. The most basic objective is to immediately set a time interval — Duran Duran for its ’80s, CCR for those ’60s, Donna Summer for the ’70s, Nirvana for its ’90s, and so forth. Considerate artistswill really incorporate the audio as either a Greek chorus signaling themes that are significant or simply as a window to the lives of the characters. Or they’ll revel in the possibilities which arise when you choose a part of activity and mix it with a tune, which can elevate an otherwise flat sequence to the dizzying heights of a dance number.

Fargo, notably in its second season, has escalated in using tunes as storytelling devices, in addition to finding ways to create musical sequences that looked and sounded unbelievable on-screen. Throughout the show’ forthcoming season, I’ll be writing weekly columns dedicated to the way Fargo employs music in each episode, exploring the ways that tunes deepen (or perhaps detract from) the storyline. (I’ll also inquire into the obscure tracks which will inevitably pop up on the soundtrack, for people without ready access to Shazam.) Before that, here are five good moments from the first two seasons.

Season 1, Episode 2: Eden Ahbez, “Full Moon” Scene: Mr. Numbers and Mr. Wrench get rid of a body in an ice-covered lake.

Fargo did not really hit its stride for a series that cinematic scenes to pop music in distinctive ways until its next season. However, this incident from early in season one shows Fargo‘s flair for digging up obscure tunes and doing something subversive together. Ahbez is a cult figure who achieved his greatest triumph in 1948 when his song “Nature Boy” has been conducted by Nat King Cole, who flipped it into a No. 1 hit. “Nature Boy” was reflective of Ahbez’s proto-hippie life — he wore his hair long and grew up a Jesus beard to choose his normal garb of sandals and white robes. (Ahbez was also living beneath the “L” at the Hollywood sign all over the time which “Nature Boy” became a hit.) On his own, Ahbez recorded profoundly strange, ethereal music including his starry-eyed, spoken-word vocals, as typified by the strangely hypnotic “Full Moon.”

On paper, “Paper Moon” shouldn’t go with a spectacle where a guy his killed by two hit men. But much like the Billy Batts sequence in Goodfellas, which uses Donovan’s similarly hippie-dippy “Atlantis” while Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci celebration Frank Marino’s head in, the mix of violence and serene audio functions in a yin-yang sort of manner, conveying the pathology of people that commit horrible acts with cool efficiency.

Season 1, Episode 9: “Green Tambourine” by the Lemon Pipers

Scene: Super-criminal Lorne Malvo, posing as a dentist at Kansas City, hosts a party at his home.

“Green Tambourine,” a likably trashy bubblegum oldie which went to No. 1 in 1967 and has been the only real hit by ersatz-psych group the Lemon Pipers, could typically be an unusual choice to score a celebration scene that happens in 2007. But it’s perfectly suited for Fargo, that informs stories which take space during hyper-specific periods of time which also somehow appear to exist slightly out of time.

Lorne Malvo, particularly, seems like he could be a commodity of every year between 1989 and 1961. It is a part of the character’s life, “there really are no rules” influence on the entire world around him, represented in a small way by reviving the outdated “Green Tambourine” at a scene which takes place 40 years following the song’s original cultural instant. For Malvo, “Green Tambourine” represents normalcy and mediocrity — it’s his way of appearing like a regular individual while slyly commenting on how boring he thinks ordinary folks are.

Season 2, Episode 1: “Children Of The Sun” with Billy Thorpe

Scene: Rye Gerhardt pushes to face a quote in a diner.

In an interview with The A.V. Club, Fargo music supervisor Marguerite Phillips explained that the series’s creator Noah Hawley “wanted me to research prog rock and Krautrock” as a musical motif for the next season. Though I prefer to believe that it’s also regarding the pervasiveness of AOR this could be related to the year’s sci-fi overtones. (As a native midwesterner born in 1977, a number of my earliest memories have been scored by pomp-rock riffs and ridiculously wiggy keyboard solos.)

Apparently, Billy Thorpe’s anthemic “Children Of The Sun” was among those very few songs ever written to the script of the second-season premiere. While mostly forgotten now, Thorpe did exist around the periphery of FM radio from the late night ’70s, that gave him sufficient exposure for the Australian rocker’s 1979 concept listing Kids Of The Sun to hit the top 40 in the album chart. In addition to subtly foreshadowing the preponderance of UFOs at Fargo‘s sophomore year, “Children Of The Sun” seems like the sort of song you’d hear in the radio late at night whilst riding shotgun on a lonely street road near the edge of Minnesota and North Dakota in 1979.

Season 2, Episode 7: Lisa Hannigan, “Danny Boy”

Scene: Bear Gerhardt implements his niece, Simone

The biggest hurdle for Fargo the TV series has been overcoming comparisons to Fargo the film. A show that was confident would have worked to play down the Coens’ influence. However, Fargo has rather embraced not only its cinematic supply material but the entire Coen brothers oeuvre, though in a manner that’s more reminiscent of an inventive remix than a slavish cover. In the next season, this interpreted musically by having modern artists perform versions of classic tunes related to Coen brothers movies, such as Blitzen Trapper’s shoot the normal “I’m A Man Of Constant Sorrow” (out of O Brother Where Art Thou) and White Denim’s redux of Kenny Rogers and The First Edition’s “Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Is In)” (in The Big Lebowski).

In the case of “Danny Boy,” which initially uttered the remarkable shoot-out series from Miller’s Crossing, the Irish singer-songwriter Lisa Hannigan was called on to execute a distinctively lovely rendition for arguably the most funniest scene at either season of Fargo. For a callback to the Coens, “Danny Boy” stands alone as a memorable audio queue on Fargo. It might, in fact, even top Miller’s Crossing, where the use of “Danny Boy” enrolls as marginally jokey. But on Fargo, the song’s sentimental depiction of familial love and the death of generations gets the death of Simone doubly awful.

Season 2, Episode 10: Black Sabbath, “War Pigs”

Scene: Everything goes to hell in Sioux Falls.

Here we’ve got a tune that strikes on every one of the bases for tune usage that is good. It’s a strong personality option for Hanzee — that I could easily imagine him listening to Paranoid non-stop whilst serving several tours in Vietnam. It comments on the activity. It will help to set the time and place — nothing epitomized evil in communities at the ’70s and ’80s including Black Sabbath, whose music and iconography served as shorthand for the mania from Satan worshippers that are mostly non-existentent.

But place of the and re-watch the sequence another 37 times. There’s something to be said for having a song because it seems incredible when juxtaposed against terrifying action that’s unfolding on a split screen. Much like the Scorsese-esque “Locomotive Breath” chain in the next season’s seventh episode, “War Pigs” gets over on sheer cinematic audacity. It looks cool since it looks freaking cool.

from reviverradio http://www.reviverradio.net/fargo-uses-pop-songs-better-than-any-show-on-video/

[womenofcolor15]

EXCLUSIVE DEETS: 'Million Dollar Beach House' Stars Try To Stop Petition That Asks Netflix To CANCEL What Fans Call 'A Racist Show'

Fans are calling on Netflix to CANCEL one of its newest reality series, “Million Dollar Beach House.” The reason? Racist vibes. We’ve got exclusive details about two of the show’s stars reaching out in an effort to have the petition taken down. Get it all inside…

Did Netflix read the room before releasing their new show “Million Dollar Beach House?” It’s a pertinent question to ask being that the streaming service is being called out for allowing racism following the new series' debut.

A little backstory…

”Million Dollar Beach House” is a reality show about a group of young and hungry real estate brokers and agents - part of the Nest Seekers International - selling multi-million dollar homes in The Hamptons. It’s seemingly the successor to Netflix’s “Selling Sunset” reality show where agents at The Oppenheim Group sell the luxe life to affluent buyers in LA.

However, “Million Dollar Beach House” has stirred up some controversy after the release of its first six episodes. There’s only one black cast member on the show and fans are feeling racist vibes. Oh no! Not on Netflix!

The show was the 2nd most-watched series on Netflix last weekend and viewers have had plenty to say about it on social media.

Netflix's new reality offering, Million Dollar Beach House, is a master class in how mediocre racist white dudes fail up

— Emma Gray (@emmaladyrose) August 26, 2020

”Netflix's new reality offering, Million Dollar Beach House, is a master class in how mediocre racist white dudes fail up,” Huffington Post writer Emma Gray tweeted.

Several other viewers felt the same:

Am I the only one getting racist vibes from Million Dollar Beach House on @Netflix? Just a couple episodes in & all the annoying white people are ganging up on the only black male. pic.twitter.com/HZ6DvDb39h

— S K Y L A R (@Sky_Dubz) August 26, 2020

Why did I decide to watch Million Dollar Beach House?? In light of our present day landscape, @netflix should know better than to have shows filled with racist behavior + micro aggressions. Peggy is a straight up racist & Michael is her accomplice, creating fake problems w/ Noel.

— Cheryl Nembhard (@CherylNembhard) August 29, 2020

If you’ve ever had trouble understanding microagressions watch episode 1 of Netflix Million Dollar Beach House

— Gabrielle Howell (@howell_snab) August 26, 2020

I literally turned it off after the first 8 minutes. This shit did it for me...didn’t need to watch anymore #MillionDollarBeachHouse pic.twitter.com/PEHlmtYskl

— Ser Duncan these wenches (@el_chrispo) August 27, 2020

There's a black guy on this show called Million Dollar Beach house and there's a black guy on there and all his colleagues are white and they hate him.

— #EndGBV (@ClixWell) August 26, 2020

Many viewers feel the show feel like Noel – the only black cast member – was given the stereotypical “villain edit.”

Another fun thing is that the only meaningful storyline seems to be the one Black man fighting with the one white woman??? #MillionDollarBeachHouse

— Emma Gray (@emmaladyrose) August 26, 2020

It seems the main drama on the show involves Noel and his co-star Peggy, the only female broker. While Noel and Peggy bicker back and forth, co-stars Michael, J.B., and Jimmy instigate causing the drama to explode.

@netflix cancel million dollar beach house and give noel and joel their own spin-off

— katie jo (@katiejoyofosho) August 26, 2020

Not only that, Noel’s co-stars often seem irritated that he’s so confident and ambitious. Hmph. The microagressions most black folks are used to being on the receiving end of.

Also, considering the climate of society right now with everything going on revolving around racial and social injustice, the show just seems tone deaf. Watching a white woman humiliate a black man on national television isn’t exactly entertaining. And let us not even get into the fact the show totally omits black women agents or any other agents of color (similar to "Selling Sunset," aside from one agent who is Israeli and one who is half African-American and half caucasian). That's another topic for another day.

Well, an Instagram user started a petition to get Netflix to cancel – what they deem – the "racist" show. Here’s what the petition is demanding and why:

Dear NETFLIX,

The blatant racism, disrespect and white supremacy vibes of Netflix's Million Dollar Beach House are reflective of the racism Blacks have endured for centuries. The cast's treatment of the show's only Black character - Noel Roberts - defies your commitment to diversity, equity and inclusion and your support of Black storytelling. It is pointless to allow the characters, specifically Peggy Zabakolas and Mike Fulfree, be so insensitive and cruel.

The evil of racism is on full display in the first season of Million Dollar Beach House. The show demonstrates that racism is still alive all over America. This show glorifies racism and minimizes its impact on marginalized groups. Our country is at a very critical juncture and it is very likely that the show will continue to encourage others to promote racism, hate, discrimination and violence against Blacks. We must face the fact that we still have much to do in the area of race relations. Do your part by cancelling Million Dollar Beach House.

You can sign the petition here.

”Million Dollar Beach House” stars Noel and Michael caught wind of the petition and hopped in an IG user's DMs (@mixthatcreolewiththatnegro) to ask them to take the petition down.

”Hi. Thanks for your support,” Noel wrote. “But I’m going to need you to cancel that petition.”

The user asked, “Why?”

Then, Noel asked for his phone number for a conversation.

Also…

Michael hopped in the user's DMs as well - first attempting to video chat. 

At the time, the IG user couldn't chat and asked what questions he had. Michael responded, "No questions. Just want to connect with you on a human level. We don't want to be that show that doesn't converse with the viewers and their concerns. Seems like you're getting a lot of traction on your post jeeze."

As you can see, the cast members are trying hard to keep the racism narrative from spreading. But, it seems to be too late. People have already formed their opinions about the show and they're running with it. Following the death of George Floyd and the raging protests that have continued since his death, Netflix stood in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement. They even launched a "Black Lives Matter" category on the streaming service.

Many would argue that in order for black lives to matter to Netflix they would have to be more conscious about what shows they're streaming because, apparently, "Million Dollar Beach House" isn't it. No word from the streaming giant about the show....yet.

Sigh, now we want to remove this show from "My List" before we even got to watch....

Photo: Chloe Gifkins/Netflix

[Read More ...] source http://theybf.com/2020/09/02/exclusive-deets-million-dollar-beach-house-stars-try-to-stop-petition-that-asks-netflix-t