#he goes from this little weirdo to fascinating puzzle

[overbearingstruggles]

I really wanna understand your love for kieran culkin, I loved him in Scott Pilgrim.

Oh my god this is so nice you really don’t have to ask but I love that you did!!!!!!!!

I wish I had a less lizard brain answer to attribute the spark to but sometimes you need someone to do something sexual in order for your brain to unlock that interest in them and the Roman/Gerri phone scene takes the prize. When I rewatched the show I had zero recollection of the emotional scene that happens right after because apparently I blacked out lol. So then I’m watching the rest of the show through new eyes which of course leads to huh, I definitely love this character and am attracted to this being, but do I also love this person? Anon, he’s so lovable! The pro and con of Kieran & Roman is there is A Lot of Kieran in the character. Uh the best parts, we hope. He’s this secure short king with quick wit who talks fast and can require a bit of attention but is humble as heck about how good he is at his job and has this quirky decorated right appendage and isn’t afraid to crack jokes when someone broaches the subject of his irl family or politely shut them down when he thinks they’re off base about something. I love the little bit I know about him and his wife’s relationship and the way they can publicly poke fun at each other. I love that he lived in the same tiny apartment from 19 to 39 until his wife finally said “you’re on a hit TV show.” I love how sweet and diplomatic he is when someone tries to poke him about Jeremy Strong being weird. I swear you can feel interviewers become infatuated with him for being a real and funny, charming person. In conclusion, I think he's neat!

[mercillery]

Hello! Could you do anything yandere shanks x female reader, but can you make it in a headcanon. Where shanks first meet the reader, how he got obsessed (was it "love at first sight") how he woos the reader, how he expressed his emotions, etc. But can you make it where that shank crew is obsessed with the reader, too? (Not romantically) more like a little sister/older brothers obsession. And they make sure no one gets the readers heart but shanks. But the reader later finds out about this and confront them about it and reveal that this was her (secret kink) but always kept it to herself because she knows it's not healthy, etc. How would they react? And could you do it in nsfw and sfw headcanon

WARNINGS: FEMALE READER + NOT PROOFREAD

NOTES: Super duper sorry anon, but I don’t write nsfw. I still hope this is to your liking!

I imagine that Shanks first encounters you in a bustling port town, the kind where everything smells like saltwater and adventure—or maybe just fried fish, but we’ll go with adventure. You’re busy—maybe working a stall, laughing with friends, or simply taking in the sights with this serene, unbothered expression. You stand out to him, not like a thunderbolt of “love at first sight” exactly, but more like a nagging feeling that something just clicked. It’s like spotting a rare treasure—he doesn’t fully understand why he’s drawn to you, but he knows it’s significant. It’s like finding a piece of his favorite puzzle that he didn’t even know was missing.

At first, it’s just mild curiosity. You’ve caught his attention, and now he’s finding every excuse to watch you—casually, of course. He’s not a weirdo... not yet, anyway. It’s all innocent in the beginning, but as time goes on, that curiosity becomes a full-blown obsession. He finds himself studying the way you smile, the way you tilt your head when you’re thinking, and even the way you roll your eyes when someone says something ridiculous. It’s all too fascinating. You’re like his own personal TV show—except the plot thickens with every episode. And oh boy, he’s hooked.

And that’s when the possessiveness kicks in. Shanks starts convincing himself that everything you do—every gesture, every laugh—is somehow meant for him. It’s a classic pirate’s mindset: when you spot treasure, you claim it. But Shanks, ever the suave captain, decides that this treasure is worth the wait. He’s not about to rush in and scare you off, oh no. This isn’t some quick plunder; this is a long game. He’s willing to be patient, biding his time, and winning you over little by little. You might think he’s just being friendly or charismatic—after all, he’s got that charm down to an art—but every move he makes is a carefully calculated step closer to you. Creepy when you think about it, right? Unless you’re into it

Naturally, Shanks’ crew gets involved—how could they not? They’re a tight-knit bunch, practically a family, and if something or rather, someone is important to Shanks, they’re all on high alert. They catch on to the way their captain looks at you—it’s not the usual playful grin or the casual glance he gives most people. No, it’s a look that says, “I’ve found something I want to keep.” This man is intense and obsessed, and they can see it. So, being the loyal crewmates they are, they decide it’s their job—no, their duty—to help their captain out. Not that they think he needs the help (since he’s Shanks and all), but hey, why not give him an edge?

The crew quickly adopts the idea of you as their captain’s treasure—precious and worth protecting. And just like that, you’re part of the family, whether you know it or not. They take on the role of overly protective brothers (whether they’re older or younger doesn’t matter—they’ve all got that big sibling energy anyway). They make it their mission to watch over you, making sure you’re safe wherever you go. But they’re not just watching from the shadows—no, they’re playing the long game, just like their captain is.

They know Shanks has enough charm to fill the Grand Line, so their strategy is different: they’re trying to get you to seek him out more. They’ve got complete faith in their captain’s charm; it’s just you who needs a little nudge in the right direction. They drop hints like, “Oh, you know, Captain Shanks would love to see you at the tavern later,” or “Wow, I bet the captain would be thrilled if you asked him about that.” Subtle, right?

As time goes on, they don’t just see you as their captain’s potential love interest—they genuinely start to see you as part of their crew. And in their eyes, that makes you family. Now, when someone’s happiness is tied to their captain’s happiness, they’re all in. They become more invested in making sure you’re content, safe, and most importantly, staying right where they want you.

It’s all fun and games until you realize anyone getting too close to you except for Shanks is a problem. See, they want you to be a permanent part of their crew. Anyone who even thinks about getting too friendly with you instantly becomes enemy number one. Sure, they’ll try to avoid violence—at first. But if they see you getting swayed by someone else, they’re not afraid to roll up their sleeves and get a little more, let’s say, hands-on with the problem. Ruthless? Maybe. Necessary? In their eyes, absolutely.

This is where their “sibling” dynamic really comes into play. The way they see it, no one’s good enough for their soon-to-be sister-in-law that’s you, by the way except Shanks. They discourage any potential suitors by casually looming nearby, giving cold stares, or “accidentally” interrupting conversations just as things start to get cozy. They’re there to make sure you stay unattached and grow more comfortable with Shanks and the crew. They gradually start making it clear that the only acceptable outcome is you being with their captain, and anyone else is just wasting their time.

And if you happen to be inexperienced in romance? Perfect! They’re thrilled. They take it as an opportunity to coach you, guiding you with all the expertise that only a bunch of rowdy pirates can offer. They’ll give you tips some (good, some questionable) and make sure you know exactly how to charm their captain back.

Basically, any love life you had or might have wanted outside of Shanks is out the window. As long as this crew is around, you’re not finding any other suitors—no chance, no way. They’ll make sure the only person you ever have eyes for is Shanks. And if you were single before they met you, even better—they’ve got a blank slate to work with. Maybe Yasopp or Benn pat you on the back and say, “Well, lucky for you, our captain’s the best option you’ll ever have.”

Shanks has this effortless charm about him that’s practically impossible to resist. With his laid-back nature and easygoing smile, he knows exactly how to draw you in. From the very start, he’s friendly and approachable, making it feel like you’ve known him for years. He knows how to make you feel at ease—he cracks jokes, buys you drinks, and regales you with wild stories from his adventures at sea. It’s hard not to feel comfortable around him when he’s so open and genuine, always acting like you’re old friends—or maybe something more. And you? You start to think he’s just a normal guy—albeit a pirate, but a friendly one. The truth? His charm of his isn’t just natural—there’s a strategy behind it.

See, Shanks is playing a long game here. Beneath the friendly smile and the easy banter is a guy who’s putting in work. He’s paying attention to everything—your likes, your hobbies, and even the tiniest details. He notices what makes your eyes light up, the foods you prefer, the places you love to visit, and even the little things that make you cringe. Every time he interacts with you, it’s as if he’s reading straight from the playbook on “How to Win Your Heart.” You think it’s just a coincidence that he always knows the right thing to say or do to make you feel special, but nope—that’s just Shanks doing his homework.

And it’s not just Shanks who’s in on it; his crew is right there, playing their part like it’s a well-rehearsed performance. They hype him up constantly, making sure you know just how amazing their captain is. They’ll tell you stories—always the ones where Shanks is the hero, the brave and selfless leader, or the guy who goes out of his way to help others. Of course, they know better than to lay it on too thick, but the message is clear: Shanks isn’t just some ordinary pirate; he’s a guy worth betting your heart on. They’ll casually mention his loyalty, his bravery, and his kindness, painting a picture of the ideal man—like, really, who wouldn’t want a guy like him? They frame it all so perfectly that you start to wonder if Shanks is exactly the kind of person you’ve been waiting for. But little do you know, he’s been waiting for you!

It doesn’t stop at words, either; the crew’s got action plans. They’ll orchestrate these “coincidental” moments where Shanks can swoop in like some dashing hero. Maybe your bag “accidentally” slips off the dock, and there’s Shanks, quick as lightning, retrieving it with that grin of his. Or perhaps you’re having a rough day, and suddenly Shanks appears with your favorite snack in hand, ready to lift your spirits. It’s like clockwork—every opportunity they get, they’re making sure Shanks is there, saving the day or making things just a little bit easier for you. It’s a collective effort, all geared towards making you see Shanks as the only option, the one who’s been right there all along, just waiting for you to realize it.

When it comes to expressing his emotions, Shanks plays it smooth—real smooth. He’s affectionate, sure, but there’s always that tiny hint of possessiveness lingering underneath, like a shadow just out of sight. He’s subtle, though; he knows how to keep it from being obvious. He showers you with attention, and not in an overwhelming way, but just enough so you always know he’s thinking about you. It could be a small gift from his travels—a trinket from a far-off island or a flower he swears is the rarest he’s ever seen. Or maybe it’s the little notes he leaves behind, simple but sweet, like a casual reminder that he’s never too far from your thoughts. He’s always there when you need someone, even if you don’t realize you need him. Shanks makes it pretty much impossible for you to forget about him.

And when others approach you, Shanks? Oh, he keeps his cool—like, really cool. He’s got that carefree smile and that laid-back attitude down to a science. Sure, he wants you all to himself, but part of his plan is patience. He’s not about to lose his composure over some random individual trying to chat you up—no, no, he’s got the long game in mind. However, if someone starts getting a little too close for comfort, that’s when you’ll see him act. And trust me, when he does, it’s like a magician pulling off a trick. Maybe that person suddenly finds himself on the wrong side of a brawl with some random pirates, or they just “decide” to leave the island without a trace. Weird, right? Almost like they vanished into thin air. Shanks knows how to make things happen while keeping his hands clean—or at least appearing to.

Eventually, you start putting the pieces together. You can’t ignore the patterns—people who show interest in you either mysteriously vanish or suddenly avoid you like you’ve got some kind of pirate plague. And then there’s Shanks, who always seems to know everything happening in your life, almost like he’s got some sixth sense. Oh, and his crew? They just so happen to be wherever you are, ready to step in like overprotective siblings. It’s all a bit too convenient, so you decide to confront them about it.

Shanks doesn’t even try to deny it. In fact, he leans right into it, giving you the whole “I’m doing this for your safety; the world’s a dangerous place” spiel. You know, playing the classic protector card. And, of course, his crew’s right behind him, backing him up like they’re all in on this script. They swear they’re only looking out for you, doing what any good “family” would do. They make it seem like it’s their sacred duty to keep you safe from any harm—or in this case, any potential love interests who aren’t Shanks.

But when you drop the bomb and reveal that this was exactly what you secretly wanted—a possessive, obsessive kind of love—the reaction is priceless. Shanks’ face goes from a small hint of concern to this look of pure satisfaction. It’s like you’ve just handed him the keys to the treasure chest he’s been searching for lifetimes. He’s definitely caught off guard for a second, but it’s the kind of surprise he’s thrilled about.

The crew’s reaction is just as entertaining. They look relieved and almost proud, like they’ve just gotten the ultimate validation. To them, it’s a sign that everything they’ve done—all the lurking and scheming—was the right move. You wanted this all along, so in their eyes, they’re basically heroes. Now that you’ve spilled the beans, they become way more open about their protectiveness, doubling down on their roles as your “brothers.” It’s like your confession flipped a switch for them, giving them free rein to crank up the possessiveness without feeling an ounce of guilt. If they ever felt guilty to begin with, that is.

From that moment on, they’re even bolder with their interference. They don’t bother hiding their efforts to scare off anyone who dares to get too close. In fact, they make sure you know that your place is with them—more importantly, with Shanks. He’s over the moon, acting like he’s won the ultimate prize. Knowing that you’re receptive to his obsession only fuels his determination to keep you all to himself. Now that you’ve given him the green light, there’s no turning back; his possessiveness has leveled up, and his crew is all-in, making sure the world knows you’re their captain’s treasure.

With everything out in the open, the dynamic between you, Shanks, and his crew hits a new level of intensity. It’s like a silent contract has been signed: you’re theirs. Shanks cranks up the affection, pulling you even deeper into his orbit. He’s always around—whether it’s with charming smiles, playful touches, or just happening to be there when you need a shoulder to lean on. And his crew? Oh, they double down on their big brother act, making sure you’re never alone for a single second.

The crew practically builds an invisible barrier around you, creating a fortress of brotherly protection that no one can breach. Some poor soul tries to talk to you? Expect one of the guys to appear out of nowhere, putting an arm around your shoulder and shooting a “friendly” grin that’s a little too sharp. You’re basically the most popular sibling in the overprotective pirate family now, and anyone who even thinks about getting close might as well just wave the white flag and walk away.

They’ve turned “you belong with us” into their full-time job. If you ever wander off, it’s only a matter of minutes before one of them pops up with an “Oh, there you are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” They act like it’s all in good fun, but there’s no mistaking that underlying message: they’re keeping tabs, and they’re not letting you slip away.

And you can’t help but feel the effect. They make you the center of their universe, their obsession, and honestly? It’s kind of intoxicating. Sure, there’s a part of you that knows it’s all a bit much—maybe even borderline unhealthy—but when you’re surrounded by that kind of attention, it’s hard not to get swept up in it. And that’s exactly how they want it. You’re part of their “family” now, and they’ll do whatever it takes to keep you right where you are.

Shanks, of course, is the ringleader of it all. He’s basking in the fact that you’ve accepted his possessiveness—no, welcomed it. He knows it’s only a matter of time before you’re fully his, heart, body, and soul. And the crew? They’re just as invested in this little storybook ending—because, in their eyes, you’re not just their captain’s treasure; you’re their treasure too.

[cartoonsaint]

Mr. Gordon Freeman for the ask game? 👉👈

ooo! i'll answer for both Gordons, but my thoughts about the original are relatively shallow whoops

Canon Gordon Freeman

FAV CANON TRAIT: i see his work w teleportation as a metaphor for his drive :) he WILL go from point A to point B, however it can possibly be done. doesn’t always take into account ”common sense” limitations, which is sort of awesome for science but not for personal health (thank god for the suit). sometimes clever puzzle solving is the answer, but sometimes the most efficient way is to go straight through the goddamn wall.

LEAST FAV CANON TRAIT: omg, that he’s in an apocalyptic first-person shooter w zombies? SO not my thing, but somehow i ended up here anyways. mostly i think he deserves a hot shower and cozy pajamas and not to be covered w blood.

FANON PET PEEVE: i’m baffled by characterizations of him that don’t take into account the facts that he is capable of great violence as well as dorky playfulness (the snark idle animation! vent races!). also i have blocked SO many people for being weird about shipping?? like HL2’s freemance thing kinda squicked me out too but damn dudes, come on

Gordos Feetman

FAV CANON TRAIT: he's SO concerned about how he appears to other people while simultaneously being the LEAST SELF-AWARE CHARACTER IN THE SERIES, my GOSH. man has no IDEA how to talk to people: comes striding into Black Mesa like he's the one in charge (“move! move, i’m running late”), rude about the kind and friendly Dr. Coolatta, overly familiar w every scientist (even when Bubby flat out tells him to shut the fuck!), when questioned by benrey goes "i'm perfectly okay! i am perfectly healthy, and smart," like that's anything close to what a normal person would say, ever. then the first chance he gets to actually sit down with the Science Team over coffee he goes straight to, "you guys got families? ...what was your childhood like?" hello? 24 hours later he asks "what're your guys' hopes and dreams?" HELLO?? buddy the unspoken social rules... my god. he does not know them

plus his "nobody likes me. nobody likes me! i've dealt with that my whole life." like... aw dude. thank goodness the Science Team is full of weirdos too. they can jive with his off-beat social skills and seem to get that at his heart, Gordon Freeman is just a pretty nice semi-loser who wants to goof off and help take care of the people important to him ;-; ...and who will also commit murder at the slightest suggestion from others that it's fine

LEAST FAV CANON TRAIT: i wish he'd been more consistent about joshua! wayne has mentioned retconning the framed picture as just gordon being a nervous fuckin weirdo, but :( on my first watch-through i was like "hm. something about the way gordon tries to shepherd the Science Team with a weirdly optimistic, know-better attitude despite the fact that they all totally ignore him feels familiar..." and then he was like "i have a little kid!" and i went "OH NO WONDER," bc at the time i was also a 27yo spending a lot of time w a small child who preferred not to listen to my somewhat hysterical requests to not Do the Thing.

so like i'm fond of joshua's existence. and i get that trying to fit him into hl2vrai would be difficult but... plz wayne don't kill him. not again D8

FANON PET PEEVE: sometimes artists draw him like he’s 45, which is odd to me, but to be fair his model does make him look terrible for a 27yo. otherwise i wish there was more exploration of how much of a fuckin WEIRDO he is, bc despite being relatively normal compared to the Science Team he’s NOT normal compared to like anyone else. and i‘d love to see more of gordon struggling and benrey having to learn to help, rather than things only going one way. and more of him goofing off, even in awful situations! like i’m fascinated by him messing with the ribs of a dead dude on the ground next to benrey like “ooo i’m gonna touch em haha... u ever been to chili’s” buddy u r NOT normal <3

OK! thank you for asking about the gordons, it is fun to stir up my feelings about these characters and try to synthesize them this way :) anyone interested in my favetrait/leastfavetrait/fanonpetpeeve for other characters can send me an ask if they like. thanks :D <3!

[brieannakeogh]

Little Spoon

**REPOST**

I wrote a one shot!! I’m so proud of myself. Every story I start tends to be at least 10 chapters long lol.  Anyway enjoy smut.

Warnings- PWP, maybe a little bit of plot if you squint. Smut, lots of smut. 

Bucky x Reader (nothing to say plus size in particular but nothing to say not as well)

Little Spoon- You enjoy being the big spoon and want Bucky to see how nice it is to be the little spoon. 

Master List

You had been living at the Avengers tower for about six months now, ever since your powers started to show themselves and you were deemed “too dangerous for normal society”. Tony took you in, and now you had a pretty much normal life. There were still missions and training, but there was also takeout parties, tv watching, video game playing, and many other everyday things. It was 1000% times better than living on the street wondering where your next meal would come from.

There were a couple of super soldiers in the tower that you had gotten along with right away, especially Bucky. He was also deemed “too dangerous” and that fascinated you, how he could go from Winter Soldier to happy, simi-well adjusted Bucky in just a few years. Maybe there was hope for you too.

On non-mission days the routine was always the same. Get up, have breakfast, train in the gym, reading mission reports, then free time. Today however you were exhausted. You didn’t sleep well the night before and had decided to skip breakfast in favor of more sleep. The problem came when you didn’t get up to go to the gym either.

“Dammit, why do I always have to go wake her ass up. I’m not a babysitter.” Bucky grumbles to Steve.

“Because she will actually get up for you.” Steve reminds him. This wasn’t the first time this happened. Usually Bucky would just bang on the door and shout at you, before you came running out, listing a string of sorrys as you both go down to the gym. Bucky usually sneaking you a protein bar, to scarf on your way down. He still complained every time.

Bucky of course coincides with Steve and goes back up to the floor your on, walking the familiar halls to bang on your door. “Get the lead out! Come on sleeping beauty, don’t make me come in there and get you!” He banged one more time and stands there puzzled. At this point he should hear scrambling and shouting that it would be just a minute for you to get dressed. He tries again. Nothing. Ok now he’s concerned. Are you sick?

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?” He asks the hallway.

“Yes Sergeant Barnes.”

“She’s in her room right?”

“Yes she is.”

“Can you open the door for me?”

“That is a violation of her privacy.”

Bucky scrubs a hand down his face. “Just cut me some slack ok? I have to get her butt to the gym and she’s not answering. She could be sick.”

There is a pause in response. “Fine. If anyone asks this was entirely your bad idea Sargent.”

“Thank you!” He tells the AI when he hears the click of the lock. Opening the door he see you are still curled up in bed. A tank with little cotton shorts on. The funniest part is you are hugging a large body pillow. You are on your side, one leg and an arm thrown over it, but you are squeezing it to death. He chuckles at the drool coming from your mouth.

“Doll?” He calls at the side of your bed, your back to him. He reaches out to shake you on the shoulder. You just crawl into the pillow more and now have a death grip on the thing. If you really are sick he doesn’t want to startle you awake, so he goes over the the other side to face you and sits on the edge of the bed. He runs a hand over your sleeping forehead, moving the hair away and feeling for a fever. Not finding anything wrong he frowns, shifting back to irritated that you won’t wake up.

He grabs the body pillow and shakes it. “Wake up, or I’m going to take this thing and rip it to shreds.” That got you to open your eyes.

“Nooooooo…” You whine. “Just let me sleep Buck, I’m so tired.”

“You know you have to train, and if I come back empty handed, Steve will come in here and drag you out of bed.”

You smirk at him. “No he wouldn’t. I just have to tell him I’m dead tired and he will cave. That’s why he always sends you.”

Bucky grumbles knowing it had been an empty threat. “Fine then I can just pick you up and haul your ass down to the gym. How would you like that?”

“You wouldn’t!” A look of horror flashes on your face as you realize what you are wearing. Everything too tight on your soft thighs and tummy to be considered decent.

“You want to try me?” Bucky tugs harder on your body pillow and you cling more to it, letting out a high pitched squeal when he tugs it off the bed with you attached.

“Bucky! Oh my god! Put me down! You really are going to rip it.” He hovers you over the bed so you can let go safely. “You are insane!”

“You are the one that held on. I warned you several times what would happen if you didn’t get up. Besides why are you so clingy to this thing?”

Sitting up in bed with your legs crossed under you, you watch Bucky turn the pillow this way and that waiting on an answer.

“Because...it’s like having another person in bed.” You mumble quietly. Of course you knew that he would be able to hear you. What you didn’t expect was him bursting out laughing.

“Doll, if you had the grip like I saw when I came in, on an actual person, they would be dead in their sleep. You had the thing in a choke hold, strangling it. Look even the top is all limp from the stuffing having been pushed out.” Huffing you reach for your pillow. “Nu-uh. You don’t get it back until you are up and dressed. We gotta go.” He tells you. You get up and head to the closet to change. You can hear the bed squeak when he sits on it waiting for you. “If you wanted to cuddle so bad, why didn’t you say so? I would have been better than a pillow, then you could be the little spoon and I wouldn’t be strangled in my sleep.”

“I like being the big spoon!” You shout at him from the closet, poking your head out to make a face at him.

“What girl likes being the big spoon, you weirdo?”

“I have more range of movement, if I get too hot I can roll over at any time, and wide backs are made for cuddling. Most guys enjoy being the little spoon they just don’t want to admit it. I hadn’t heard a complaint yet.”

“They don’t complain because they want to fuck you again.” He chuckles.

You come out fully dressed in your work out gear. “Don’t be rude Bucky.”

“Hey, I’m just stating facts.” He holds his hands up in surrender, still having your pillow in one of them. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” You hold out your palm and he hands you the pillow. “Bucky!” You whine. “Didn’t you bring me anything to eat?” Wiggling your eyebrows.

“You’re a spoiled little brat, anyone ever told you that?” He says as he hands you a bar, which you tear into immediately.

“Yeash.” You say chewing around the big bite. “You, pretty much everyday. Every time you spoil me. You would think you would learn your lesson.” You tell him after you swallow. The two of you start walking down the hall to the elevators.

He just shakes his head.

Training is tiring and after you go up to your room for a shower, you’ve got a bit of a break before lunch and decide to take a nap. You’ve changed into some athletic lounge wear, leggings and a cute top, forgoing a bra. Cuddling up with your body pillow, you fall right to sleep.

‘What is taking her so long?’ Bucky thinks as he is waiting for you in the kitchen. You were just going to go shower and then come back for lunch right? He had fixed you a sandwich while he fixed his own, but now he was starting to get annoyed. Leaving the lunch in the kitchen he goes back to your room. He knocks but no answer. He tries the door handle and apparently you had left it unlocked. The tower is safe, and no one here would do anything but you still shouldn’t leave the door unlocked while you shower! What were you thinking?

He steps in and sees you asleep, again. Same position as last time, squeezing the life out of the top of the pillow. “What are you doing? I made us lunch, get up!” He tells you, but your only response is to shift a little and produce a whine in the back of your throat, not even waking up.

Bucky decides he’s had enough and throws back the covers. If the shorts from this morning were bad, the leggings were worse. He always loved them on you and now seeing your leg wrapped around the pillow, making your ass look amazing, he just stopped and stared. You had told him this morning you liked being the big spoon so he was imagining that leg wrapped around him, and the arm thrown over his back and chest. Maybe instead of his back you would cling to, he could face you, burying his face in your tits and gripping that thigh that was over him.

He shakes his head trying to rid himself of the dirty thoughts before his simi turns into a full blown hard on. The two of you were just friends, nothing more. You were a spoiled little princess, and he always ended up feeding that bad behavior by doting on you, mostly because he knew the living conditions Tony pulled you from. He thought you deserved to be spoiled from time to time, but he didn’t know you would go full on brat on him. Give you an inch and you take a mile.

“You can’t sleep through lunch if you slept through breakfast.” He tugs on the pillow since that is what got you up this morning.

“Bucky, why can’t you let me sleep?! I was up most of the night with nightmares last night and didn’t fall asleep until 4 this morning.” You whine again at him and he stops pulling.

“Why didn’t you say something before now? I told you to wake me up if you have another nightmare.” He sits on the edge of the bed.

You hadn’t meant to tell him the reason for lack of sleep. When you got to the tower you had nightmares most nights. Sleep wasn’t easy to come by. Gradually they slowed down until it was a rare occurrence, but lately they were coming back. You would always talk to Bucky about your dreams, but he seemed so happy when you started to get better and could sleep through the night, you didn’t want to tell him they were coming back.

You huff, burying your face in the pillow before you relent and sit up facing him. “They’ve been back for about 2 weeks now. Almost every night. Usually I can get back to sleep but I couldn’t last night.” Hanging your head down, not wanting to look at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked.

“I didn’t want you to be disappointed that I relapsed. You did so much to make me feel better when I first got here that I didn’t want you to think all you’ve done is in vain.”

“Doll, we all have bad weeks. I am so far from the person I was when I got here but I still have relapses sometimes. Do you know what gets me through them?” You shake your head. “I talk to my friends. You can’t bottle it up, it’s not good for you. Now if I can only get that through Steve’s thick skull. You’re already a brat, I don’t need another Steve on my hands too.”

You giggle at him as he puts his arm around your shoulder, pulling you to him. “Thanks Bucky, I’ll try to remember that.” He nods at you.

“You want to go back to sleep or eat lunch?” He asks.

“Think you can get me out of mission report summaries?” Looking up at him with wide pleading eyes.

“Fine but you owe me.” He sighs out as you hug him tightly.

“Ok lunch first and then nap. You said you had already fixed it?” You look around for the food.

“So you weren’t asleep yet when I came in? Also I didn’t bring it in here, you have to go out and eat at the table like a normal person.”

“Uggg but it’s so far!”

“Tough!” He tells you as he helps you off the bed.

You ate lunch with the other members and Bucky makes up an excuse for you to Steve to get you out of mission report reading. Steve seems to know what’s up by the disapproving dad face, but doesn’t argue.

“Thanks Buck!” You tell him, linking your arm through his as you walk down the hall to your room.

“Is there a particular thing you are thanking me for? Because I’ve done a lot today.”

“Ha. Ha.” You deadpan. “But seriously, thanks for everything.” You got somber and quiet.

“No problem Doll.” He pats your arm as you are in front of the door. “Have a good nap.”

“Hey Bucky?” You don’t let go of his arm when he tries to pull away. His eyebrows lift in a questioning glance. “Umm, did you mean what you said this morning?”

“What did I say?” His brows furrowed, thinking on what you talked about earlier.

“That you would make a better cuddle buddy then my pillow. It helps some, but if I have a nightmare or something…” You trail off.

“Of course, but only if I can be the big spoon.” He smirks.

“Nope, I told you I’m the big spoon.”

“I don’t think that would work out well.” He chuckles, but thinks back on what he imagined this morning, his face getting a little warm.

“Come on, I’ll prove it to you.” You drag him into your room and throw back the covers. “Strip to what you normally wear and get in.” He’s standing there in jeans and a tee shirt, but doesn’t move.

“Doll I don’t think you’ll want me to do that. I’ve got some sleep pants in my room I can go get.” He points a thumb behind him to the door.

“Why? What do you sleep naked?” You ask rolling your eyes. Then giving him a harder look when he doesn’t deny it. He shrugs his shoulders.

“Fine, boxers and tee shirt then?” Again no reply. “What the fuck do you go commando everywhere?!”

“Not on missions, usually. Underwear is just so restrictive.”

“So those loose gray sweatpants you love to wear around here, ya got nothing underneath?!” Another shrug. “Bucky! I’ve sat in your lap before when you wore those!”

“Yes and thank you very much for that.” He smirks as you hit him on the shoulder.

“Just go grab some underwear or whatever and come back. I’m determined to show you that guys can be the little spoon too.”

“Fine, fine.” He leaves and comes back a little later in a white tee with the same gray sweatpants that you were talking about. He closes the door and locks it. “You really should keep the door locked when you’re sleeping.” He scolds.

You sigh irritably and point to the bed where he gets in, and you follow behind.

“Ok, how do you normally sleep?” You ask him.

“I don’t know, it changes.”

“Pretend I’m not here and get comfortable.” He rolls over on his side facing you. “Not like that!”

“You said to get comfortable.” He grins at you.

“If you like to be on your side roll over.” He does facing the other way from you. The two of you were pretty close and cuddly anyway. Always laying on each other on the couch or you would sit in his lap a lot, and his head would rest in yours, but this seemed different as you scoot up to his back, pressing your chest against it. Your leg going over his hip and arm draping his chest. Your head was a couple of inches above his sharing the same pillow as you buried your face in his hair. “Mmmm see isn’t this nice?” Pressing closer to him so there isn’t an inch of space between you.

“It’s weird. I still have the urge to roll over and face you.”

“Ok, that’s fine. I can be the big spoon there too, it’s just a little more embarrassing that way.” You clear your throat a bit and lift your leg and arm up a couple of inches for him to roll over.

“What’s embarrassing?” He asks before he gets all the way in position. His face right at boob level. “Well it’s definitely more intimate.” He stutters.

You laugh and place a kiss on his forehead as you scoot down just a bit so his face is more at neck level. “This better?”

“I wasn’t complaining.” He grumbled.

You hook your leg over his a bit more and drape his arm over you side with your arm on top. The arm that is under your body you lift up to slide under the pillow and his neck, cradling his head, pressing his face to your neck, running your fingers through his hair.

“I’m not sure I trust this position. I’ve seen that pillow, I know what your arm does when you are asleep.” He mumbles into your neck. His breath making a shiver run down your spine.

“Hush. You’re not a soft as a pillow you know.”

He hums and relaxes a bit more into you, placing a soft kiss to your neck. His fingers running down your spine. “This isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Told ya.”

From this position he can hear your heart pounding faster with each touch he makes. “Are ok Doll? It sounds as if you’re going to have a heart attack.” He chuckles and kisses your neck again, hearing it speed up even more.

“Bucky, what are you doing?” Your breath coming out heavier. You didn’t want him to stop, but knew if he didn’t it could potentially change your friendship forever. While you’ve had a crush on him since pretty much day one, you also didn’t want to lose the person you were closest with in the tower.

He grabs you by the thigh that is hooked over his, pressing closer at the hips, kissing up your neck and under your jaw. “Just tell me to stop doll and I’ll do it.” He lifts his own leg to press his thigh at the apex of yours, rubbing it against you. You whimper and he lifts his head to growl and nip at your ear. Your hands still in his hair, tugging and fisting in it.

“Fuck…” His hand find its way under your shirt, splaying his fingers over your back to press you closer to him, thigh still rocking into your core. “Darlin’ I’ve wanted this for a long time, but if you don’t just...oh fuck…” You give a particularly harsh tug to his hair and press his face closer to your neck. He takes this as a hint to shut up about stopping and sucks a dark mark onto your neck as you moan above him.

You are desperate to feel his skin, but don’t want to pull away and untangle yourself from him. Taking your free hand, you push his shirt up, rubbing down his side and over his back as he keeps planting kisses and marks on your neck and shoulder. He hisses when your nails scrape down the edges of his abs. At this point you both are dry humping the other. You press yourself more into his thigh and can feel how hot, heavy and hard he’s become under his sweatpants.

The more you whimper the harder he presses his thigh into you. You need more of his skin so on the next pass down his side you keep going pushing his sweatpants down a few inches on his hips. He doesn’t remove his thigh from between yours so you can’t go far down, just enough to slip his cock out of his pants. You back away just a bit so you can work a hand between you, covering the velvety feeling shaft with your hand. Every time he rocks into you with his thigh he presses himself into your palm, both of you are panting, ragged gasps of air.

He’s marking a nice little spot behind your ear, when he pulls back. Lips leaving skin and his hand leaving your back. It finds itself on the nape of your neck twisting your head so he can push his lips to yours. The first real kiss and you moan into it. It’s everything you thought it would be and more. You ravage each other’s mouths until you have to pull back. He rests his forehead to you, lips barely touching, breathing each other in. Locking eyes with you, seeing your blissed out expression he asks, “You gonna cum for me baby doll?”

You bite your lip. “Mmmm...Buck...more…” He nods and kisses you again. He slips his hand down pulling on your leggings and panties, pushing them all the way off along with his sweats. Quickly he slots his thigh between yours, rocking harshly. You cry out from the direct contact, clinging on to him as best you can.

“Oh fuck, fuck….Bucky!” He presses harshly to you once more and he can feel the excess wetness as you cum. Rolling over he slots himself between your legs, arms propped hovering above you. You can feel his hot cock running through your slick as he give little minute thrusts.

With a last searing kiss, he pulls back. Pulling off his shirt, and pushing yours up as well to feel as much skin on skin as possible. “Ready for more?” He asks, a teasing tone in his voice. Nodding is the only response you can form as he, lifts your legs by the back of the knees and places one over his shoulder and the other around his hip. Easing into you, he can feel you tighten around him. Your walls already fluttering from the last orgasm.

You’re in agony at how slow he is going. You want to shout at him that you aren’t something made of glass that can break, but with his strength that could be true, not that you could find the words at this moment. The only words that leave you are “Please” and his name over and over.

The last few inches he thrust suddenly, fully enveloped in your warmth. He grins at your squeak of surprise and the way you tighten on his cock. Starting slow, he soon finds a rough pace. Snapping his hips, the sound of skin slapping skin can be heard loudly through the room.

He bends down to take a nipple in his mouth as he continues thrusting. He can tell you are close, the way your faces scrunches each time he thrust hard and how your eyes are screwed up tight. “Doll.” Voice like gravel, deep and tone full of command. “Look at me. I want to see you when you come.” His thumb moves to your clit when you lock eyes with him. Barely any blue left in them, pupils dilated, little more than a thin blue ring around the black.

You try your best to do as he says but it gets harder and harder the closer you get. All at once on a particularly hard thrust and flick of your clit, your orgasm slams into you. White creeping into the edges of your vision and it is impossible to keep your eyes on him as you scream his name. It doesn’t take him much longer to finish himself, your name like a prayer on his lips as he comes down from his high.

He doesn’t pull out as he rolls you to a similar position that you started in bed. Facing each other, your leg over his hip and his face in your chest. Both panting, regaining your senses.

“I guess you liked being the little spoon huh?” You tease him.

Bucky laughs, both gasping at the sensation it caused with him still inside you. “Yeah, you convinced me. Little spoon is good too.” He sighs contentedly. “We should get up and get cleaned up.” He mumbles into your neck.

Your arms and legs tighten around him. “Five more minutes.”

“Fine my spoiled princess. Five more minutes.”

You both were asleep in three.

**NO TAGS REPOSTED**

[vagrantblvrd]

fahc Jack teaching Ryan how to gamble (or being undercover at the casino and Geoff's chosen outfit is ridic)

Oh my God, I love it?

Even better if Ryan is clearly Jack’s ~trophy husband for their cover, right?

Because look, no one knows the Vagabond’s face and it’s a nice one, and also these jackasses owe Jack one just this once. (And conveniently no one recognizes Jack, because he’s usually piloting a chopper/plane/wearing some ridiculous mask someone chose as the theme for the heist.

SO.

Jack is, just like you, Ryan, are the eye candy and I am this filthy rich businessman/whatever. Something lucrative or what have you and he swoops into town with Ryan on his arm.

Gavin and Matt have arranged things so the people at the casino thinks he’s a high roller, real VIP. (He is, but that’s not the point and also Geoff, maybe go pick out something for your cover, and for God’s sake pick something tasteful this time!!1!)

And then!

High roller!Jack and his boy toy - “I thought I was the eye candy?” - stroll into the casino and make for the high limit tables.

Ryan snags a flute of champagne on the way because he’s oh so pretty and kind of dumb and all the cards confuse him?

Then there’s Jack who’s an old pro at this, clearly an experienced gambler or what have you and he’s patiently teaching Ryan the finer points of poker.

Spends an hour explaining the different hands and whatnot at a table with other high rollers, one of which is their target, and it’s obvious all the info is going in one ear and right out the other.

Which works out to their advantage because Ryan loses every hand, and Jack breaks even. Lulls their target into a false sense of security and they take to shadowing Jack and Ryan because easy pickings? (Or maybe they’re a sleaze and Ryan’s their type, whatever.)

Jack takes Ryan over to a Blackjack table because maybe that’ll be easier for him to understand? (It is and isn’t, because Ryan does okay but he can never remember the value of the face cards and what is up with teh aces??? Pick a number value for God’s sake.)

From there they go to the roulette tables and oh, God, that’s kind of a nightmare because that’s when they run into some idiot who thinks he’s a cowboy? Keeps betting everything on black and insisting Ryan do the same, and then there’s the weirdo in the…the Ensemble.

Horrific fashion sense the likes of which neither Jack nor Ryan have ever seen. (It even throws the cowboy off for a moment.)

Everyone’s fascinated/mesmerized by the guy they don’t notice when the cowboy slips something to Ryan who slips it to Jack who accidentally bumps into their target.

“Oh, God, sorry, I didn’t meant to, are you alright?” and so on.

Meanwhile, their target has a tracker/listening device/whatever attached to their person that Gavin and Matt are totally hooked into because movie magic RE technological gadgets and the like?

And as Jack persists in teaching Ryan how roulette works their target goes off to change - Jack spilled his drink on them you see, created an unsightly stain on their expensive clothing they can’t bear to be seen with.

Goes up to their room, and there’s a briefcase locked away in a safe - PLOT REASONS - they check on while they’re there. (A bit obsessively, it’s true, they’re a bit nervous by nature and having this briefcase and its contents is ramping that up exponentially. Thank goodness they’re meeting with a buyer later in the week, someone who may or may not be affiliated with a rival crew to this Fake AH Crew they’ve heard such unflattering things about. Incouth ruffians, that bunch.)

And, conveniently, thanks to the sleight of hand and teamwork down on the casino floor, Gavin and Matt get their grubby little mitts on the safe combination/code and its location and all kinds of previously unknown information.

After a bit the target goes back downstairs, but to their disappointment Jack and Ryan are nowhere to be seen, and the same goes for the two fashion challenged gentlemen. (Pity, they were remarkably entertaining.)

The target goes off to see if the betting’s any good on the dog/horse races - always a bit thrilling, those, added bit of risk and the like with the unpredictable nature of animals and the what.

After that it’s some fine dining at the casino restaurant, and dessert and drinks and, well. It’s a good long while until they return to their room, which.

Unfortunate for them, seeing as how someone’s broken into their room.

They don’t know that, yet, however. Won’t know until they do another check on the briefcase only to learn about the break in then because the briefcase is empty.

No, wait.

There’s a playing card left in its place, a joker with a bent edge the likes of which the man in the Ensemble was using when he was caught cheating and escorted from the premsis. (Shortly before the string of events where JAck spilled their drink on the target and the timing can’t be a coincidence, ca it?)

The target runs back to the casino floor, out of the casino itself as though they thin they can catch the bastards behind all of this to no avail.

Meanwhile, meanwhile, meanwhile, the Fakes have the briefcase’s contents - hard drive with Vtial Information they can use to take down their rival crew or net them a nice rich reward or something along those lines - all smug and victorious.

Jack and Ryan have started another game of poker with the others, lights down save for the ones over the table, because Atmosphere.

Geoff’s Geoff laughing and a little too smug about how smoothly things went, still wearing bits of his horrendous fashion choices and Jeremy eyeing his own hand of cards dubiously.

Trevor’s got this little smirk going on and Alfredo’s looking a touch concerned. Fiona’s losing patience and Lindsay is playing her own game, card close to her chest and terrifying everyone there without really trying.

Michael’s over by Gavin on the couch watching these idiots trying to outbluff one antoher, sipping at his drink and heckling the fuck out of them. Matt playing with his new puzzle or whatever and absently heckling them and really, it was a good day for them all told.

[eponymous-rose]

Fic: Faint Distances [Vax, ensemble]

[AO3 | FFN | More Fic]

In the cold and the night and the storm, a half-elf walks into a bar. Vax remembers.

Spoilers for Episode 88.

Faint Distances

i.

Vax walks into a tavern.

He's still new to traveling with a party, still prone to wandering off on his own at every opportunity, but the tavern is a warm spot of light and noise in the quiet chill of the city, and tonight he craves the anonymity of a crowd. Ignoring the yelling of the rowdier patrons up toward the bar, he sidles into a dark corner, propping up the wall with arms crossed, listening to the faint rattle of rain on the windows, watching the ebb and flow of the tavern's patrons—

"Why'd you pick that guy's pocket?"

The only reason Vax doesn't yelp at the voice directly in his ear is because his brain is already busy trying to figure out how likely it is for half-elves to have a heart attack at the ripe old age of twenty-six. He does, however, whip around so quickly that Grog has to duck out of the way of his hair. "Grog, what the fuck? Are you following me?"

Grog shrugs. "You seemed, like, distracted. Wanted to know where you go when you fuck off like that. If you needed coin, you could've asked. I would've bought the first round." He pauses as though taken aback by his own generosity. "Uh. Wait. Maybe. If I have coin. Pike says I gotta be nicer to people I meet because I'm so big, you know, and you really don't gotta be stealing if you don't need to—"

"Uh," says Vax, because Grog's voice is carrying more than a little, and to be perfectly honest, he's not exactly sure which of the people currently side-eyeing him is the one whose coin purse he snatched without thinking. "Just, ah, honing my skills. But that doesn't explain how you—"

"Tiberius did some sort of magic to help me be sneakier. Said he'd do it just this once because he wanted to practice the spell."

"Listen," Vax says, watching a particularly rough-looking half-orc reach for his absent coin purse with a growing expression of concern. "That sounds like an incredible adventure of a story, and I'd love to hear all about it, big guy, so what do you say we get back to the group and call it a night?"

"Well, now that you have money, I figure maybe you're up to buy the next round."

Vax grins desperately at the now-scowling half-orc stomping in their direction. "Are you fucking with me, Grog?"

Grog laughs. "Maybe a little."

Vax mentally goes through his you-got-caught checklist: keep your hands open, look contrite and friendly, resist the urge to hide behind Grog's hamhock thigh... "Um. Hello, sir. Can I help you?"

In response, the half-orc draws a wicked-looking cudgel from his side, which, perhaps not the best way negotiations could've gone. Cursing his choice of artfully dark corners—this one's too far from the doors and the windows to make a hasty escape—Vax squares his shoulders.

Grog grabs the back of Vax's cloak, lifts him clear off the ground, and shoves him behind his back. "All right, all right. If we're gonna play, let's do this right." The half-orc, apparently undeterred by his change in dance partners, swings a haymaker that cuts through the air like a particularly massive crossbow bolt. Grog takes the hit to the side of his chest, sniffing disdainfully. "If I knew you were sneaking off to get in fights, I would've started following you a lot sooner."

"Well," says Vax, backing up into the wall. "This isn't normally how these things go."

"Uh-huh," Grog says, and grabs the half-orc's cudgel out of his hand. "You gonna circle around and knock this guy out or what?"

Vax, two steps into his plan to do just that, freezes as the half-orc's attention rivets instantly on him. "Well, it gets a lot harder when you tell them ahead of time!"

"Sure," says Grog, with a laugh that's way more contagious than it has any right to be. "Where's the fun in it if it's easy? C'mon, Vax, show me what you've got."

It's an absolute fucking disaster of a bar brawl—the half-orc calls in a few friends, Vax gets his nose broken by an errant bottle, Grog accidentally destroys half the furniture in the place—but Vax can't help grinning as they stumble back to camp, and the next time he sets off on his own he makes a conscious effort to ignore the loud clomping of footsteps behind him.

ii.

Vax walks into a tavern.

The rest of the party's already taken up their usual raucous stance at the long center table, but the new kid, the one they'd dragged out of the cell a week earlier, is sitting a couple tables away from the rest, contemplating a mostly-full mug of ale. Alone.

With a cursory wave to his sister, confirming the acquisition of travel rations for the next week, Vax settles into the seat across from Percival.

"Oh," Percy says, finally glancing up over his glasses around the time Vax is seriously considering getting up and going back to the other table out of sheer awkwardness. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear you sit down."

"Stealthy is sort of what I do," Vax says, and rests his chin in the palm of his hand. "You're very polite, you know. Exceedingly polite."

"Why does that sound like an insult, coming from you?"

"I'm just saying. Your clothes were a fucking mess when we found you, but they're finely made. I'm not— Vex'ahlia and I are by no means royalty—"

Percy mutters something under his breath that sounds like, "clearly," which Vax chooses to ignore for the sake of diplomacy.

"—but we do know a thing or two about how to recognize someone accustomed to wealth. Money breeds trouble, I know, and I'm not trying to pry." Vax cocks his head to one side; Percy dodges his eye contact as capably as he's been dodging conversation all week. "I just want you to know that some of us have very good reason to distrust money and power."

Percy hums under his breath, takes a long swig of ale, and finally looks up, meeting Vax's eyes. "Are you threatening or reassuring me?"

Vax shrugs. "Call it a bit of both."

Percy stares at him, brow furrowed like he's trying to work out a puzzle of some sort. "Well, you're in luck. I haven't any power left to speak of, and I gave your sister all of the material wealth I possess."

"You've been avoiding the rest of group. You're making it very difficult to trust you."

Percy blows out an exasperated breath, takes another drink of ale, then pauses, his voice still echoing in his mug. "I don't know any of you. Let's just say that I have my own suspicions."

Waving off his sister's concerned looks in their direction, Vax says, "Being suspicious of a bunch of shitheads is a pretty reasonable approach to life."

"Not... not that. That I can deal with. It's the—" Percy's voice fades into another drink, a heavy swallow. For the second time that evening—quite possibly the second time since they met—he meets Vax's eyes. "I have very good reason not to trust kindness."

"Oh," Vax says. They're quiet a moment longer, but even the hum of conversation from the rest of the group is starting to die down in eavesdropping fascination. Vax taps the table in front of him, then smiles. "Okay. You're in luck. We haven't got a whole lot of kindness to speak of, and you just about used up the last of it. If I promise we'll all be terrible assholes to you from now unto eternity, will you at least come sit at the table with the rest?"

That startles a smile out of Percy. "How exactly is that any different from how you usually act?"

"Exactly," Vax says, sagely. "Just the point I'm trying to make. Besides, I used to hide away from the group sometimes, back when we first got started. I still try to keep Grog downwind as much as possible. If you need some time to yourself, go ahead and take it. I can recommend some ways to disappear. But sitting two tables away speaks of half-measures, like you're not really sure one way or the other if you want to be a part of this, and that's where the trouble comes in. Speaking from experience, here. You have to decide if this is something you want to be a part of, because eventually even we'll get tired of having to put in the effort."

Percy narrows his eyes, then glances over to the other table, where Keyleth and Grog seem to be engaged in some sort of bizarre parody of an arm-wrestling match. "I can't believe I'm saying it, but... yes, I believe I really do want to be a part of it."

"Then be a part of it." Vax raises his hands palm-up, reassuringly. "I'm sorry you had something bad happen, some betrayal, but you have to start trusting people sometime."

"I really, really don't have to," Percy says, but he's already gathering up his mug, swiping a napkin over the ring of condensation on the table. "But I suppose it couldn't hurt to start."

iii.

Vax walks into a tavern.

He's clutching the wound in his belly, a deep longsword slash that hasn't stopped bleeding since he began his slow stagger away from the battlefield at the edge of town, but the fucking tavern's deserted, because of course it is, there's a bunch of magic-slinging weirdoes fighting off bandits at the city's gate, everyone's gotta be hunkering down, and maybe he should've stuck around and waited for someone to heal him, but he didn't want to be more of a liability than he had to, and surely the fucking tavern would have some form of first aid—

His steady patter of thought stalls as he walks into a table, curses softly, and decides to have a nice, quiet lie-down on the floor while this particular wave of agony in his gut flares to life. Only getting to the floor's a bit of a tall order, given how much it hurts every time he takes a step. Hitting the ground's gonna hurt a whole fuckload more. He reaches back to steady himself against a barstool, instead, leaving a handprint smear of blood on the wool cushion.

"Hey," he calls, on the off-chance everyone's just hiding behind the bar or something. "Hey, little help here?"

No reply. His heart's hammering pretty hard, now, and the blood's soaking down his tunic and trousers under his armor. Should've just fucking stuck around the battlefield. Had to go for help. Not thinking clearly, not thinking—

"There you are— oh, hells."

He grins at Pike, feeling a stickiness of blood at the corner of his mouth, and says, "I think I fucked up."

"Yeah," Pike says, swiping blood away from a cut on her own forehead. "Yeah, I think so. Okay. Sit down, Vax."

He blinks at her, because surely he thought of that already, and surely there's a very good reason he hasn't... "Pike, they need you out there."

"Grog was playing mop-up when I figured out you were missing. It's fine. You need me in here. Sit down."

Vax tries to communicate his trepidation, but all that comes out is a whimper, so he lets his knees buckle and slumps into a chair, and everything very considerately goes white for a few moments.

When he opens his eyes, his forehead's resting against the table. Turning his head to one side, with an effort, he sees Pike gripping her holy symbol with one hand, the other pressed firmly to his side. There's a strange warmth warring with the numbness that's creeping up his chest, and he swallows the urge to push her away, to tell her not to waste literal divine power on some shithead who couldn't hold his own in a brawl.

"Oh, stop that. You're not some shithead who couldn't hold his own in a brawl," Pike says, alerting him to the fact that he might have just possibly spoken his thoughts aloud. "You're my friend, okay? And even if you weren't, it's not a question of waste. Saving a life is never a waste."

"Okay," Vax tells the table, thickly. With the warmth comes an enticing heaviness, a weight like a blanket over his shoulders.

"There," says Pike. "That'll hold you together until we can get something a little stronger in you."

In defiance of all the go-to-sleep messages his brain's sending to the rest of his body, Vax sucks in a deep breath and straightens in his chair, then hunches over at a twinge from his gut. "Thanks, Pike. That's... that's amazing, what you can do."

"Yeah, well." Pike grins. "It's nice to be appreciated. Spent a lot of time curing warts and hangovers back in Westruun. It's been... sort of fun to be in the middle of the really intense stuff. You know, not that it's fun to see all of you with your guts out and whatever."

"Taste for adventure," Vax says.

Pike's grin goes a little shy. "I guess. Always thought Grog was the one who cared about all that stuff. But for all the bad stuff we've seen, amazing things keep happening, right? That's kind of how it goes. I couldn't have dreamed of this kind of stuff if I'd just stayed home with Wilhand. So it's worth the pain, maybe."

Vax smiles back at her. "Definitely worth the pain."

iv.

Vax walks into a tavern.

Scanlan's been humming under his breath from the moment they all arrived, a jaunty little tune with an inexplicable series of off-key notes at the end. Once round sixteen comes around, Vex starts kicking him under the table—which Vax is pretty sure requires some impressive contortions, given how far off the ground Scanlan's legs are. Scanlan, ignoring her in favor of another mug of ale, continues his humming unabated.

It's been a busy few days, as the group has started to talk in earnest about what comes next, trying to reconcile their million different plans and ambitions in the wake of foiling the Dread Emperor's plot. Vax is pretty sure they need this evening of relaxation, but they've also been surly and snappish any time they've been in tight quarters as a group—and gods know he's been doing his part of that, too, purposely antagonizing Grog with childish pranks.

After so long under a pressure that's suddenly been lifted, he feels all twitchy, like there's something crawling under his skin every time he thinks about everything the group still has to do, everything they want to do, stretching out in all different directions. No family stays together forever, but he'd hoped this one might weather the strain...

Tiberius blows up early in the evening, snarling some incoherent insult at Grog, which Pike takes personally, and so the entire tavern is treated to the sight of a tiny gnome yelling at a very flustered red dragonborn while a startled goliath looks on. Percy of all people manages to patch things up with a drink for all parties involved, but the silence after the shouting is uncomfortable and wary.

And fucking Scanlan is still humming.

"Don't you know any other songs?" Vax snarls, finally. "If it were your damn shawm, I'd just grab it out of your hands, but I haven't worked out yet how to stop you singing."

"I could cast Silence," Tiberius says.

Vex groans, leaning back in her chair so it balances on two legs. "Would you?"

"I'm... a little tapped out for the day."

"Thank you for the update," Percy says.

"Don't yell at Scanlan," Grog says. "Just because he's the only one who isn't all fucked up and grumpy—"

"Hey!" Pike says.

"You did yell at Tiberius," says Keyleth. "That's kind of fucked up and grumpy."

"Hey!" Pike says, more quietly this time.

Scanlan hums the song again, and when he gets to the same sequence of off-key notes, the entire table groans in disgust.

"It's like I keep expecting it to change, but it never does," Vex says, staring dully at the ceiling.

But Vax is watching Scanlan, because he could swear he just saw a wink. Deep breath. Heavy sigh. "You're trying to make a point, aren't you? And this is your way of being passive-aggressive and awful like the rest of us."

"Sure," says Scanlan, and sets right back to humming.

"Ooh," says Keyleth, temporarily shaken from her funk. "Is it a mystery?"

That actually makes Scanlan stop humming for a moment in confusion. "Uh. Not really? It's just super obvious. And also the passive-aggressive thing, like Vax said. We're falling apart, here."

"We've got too much to do," Vex says. "Too much going on. We need to go our separate ways for a bit."

"Yeah," Grog says. "But it's never just for a bit, is it? We'll all go off, and then we'll never see each other again."

Scanlan hums the off-key notes. "Kind of fucked up, right?"

"Oh, damn it," Percy mutters. "Fine. I'll get in on this. You're trying to make a point about perspective, right? Go ahead and shift those notes up a little bit, and I think you'll find the song sounds considerably better."

"Down," Grog corrects him. "Just a bit down, I think. Like this." And he sings two notes, basso profundo, that ring out shockingly clear and precise.

Everyone blinks at him. He shrugs. "Got perfect pitch. Never came up."

"Well, be that as it may," says Scanlan, "he's right. Shift the pitch a little, and—" He sings the song one more time, and this time the final notes, while still recognizable as the sequence from before, slot effortlessly into the rest of the melody.

"That does sound better," Vex says. "The point being?"

"The point being, we're looking at this from the wrong angle. We all have shit to do, we're worried we won't come back together at the end of it. So give us something to come back to."

Vax catches the shape of the idea a moment before his sister does, judging by her sharp, indrawn breath a second later. "A home," he says, softly.

"Right. You think Uriel's gonna begrudge us, like, a keep? We just saved the fuck out of everything here! Let's have the keep built while we're gone, tending to all our other business, and then it'll be here waiting for us when we get back."

Into the stunned silence, Grog says, "That is an amazing idea, but I still don't really know why you were singing the song."

"It's a metaphor, Grog," Percy whispers.

Grog snorts. "I'm not falling for that one. Pike used to do that all the time. 'It's a buttfor.' 'Pike, what's a buttfor?' 'For pooping!" Nope, fool me once-"

"No, a metaphor. Meta— I—" says Percy, with the air of a man slowly sinking into oblivion. "Never mind. Well-caught, Grog."

"Damn straight."

Vax grins. "A home," he says again, louder this time. "For all of us."

Scanlan catches his eye, winks, and smiles.

v.

Vax walks into a tavern.

He really hasn't given Keyleth all that much thought, which is sort of a terrible thing to think, but there's so many of them, now, making up this band of fuck-ups, and she tends to be right up front in the fray while he's sneaking around back, and she's quiet and mainly hangs around with Percy and Tibs to talk about the burdens of leadership or whatever, while Vax is just... well, his conversations with the rest of the party lately have seemed to involve a lot in the way of bodily functions.

But he's been giving Keyleth more thought, recently, in the sense that he's wondering what in the hells it must feel like to become a bird.

He's seen the big, unwieldy skyships growling over Emon, but he's never, you know, actually done the whole flying thing, and it's something that happens in dreams a lot, isn't it, flying? And it seems like feathers would be an interesting sensation. Or fur, fangs, claws. Wild animals have always been so much more in Vex's wheelhouse that his experience has been limited to, well, large and inexplicably domesticated brown bears. Would some sort of behavior or mentality translate over?

"You're starting to freak me out a little, Vax," Keyleth says, and Vax blinks, shaking himself from his reverie to realize that Percy and Tibs have wandered off to pick up the next round of drinks, leaving their side of the table uncharacteristically quiet.

"Sorry," Vax says, feeling the full weight of the day's travels settle on his shoulders alongside a substantial haze of alcohol. "I'm tired, I guess I'm sort of zoning out."

Keyleth stares at him and slowly raises an eyebrow. "Okay. I do that sometimes, too."

"No, I—" Vax scratches at his forehead, winces, and leans forward, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "This is gonna sound so weird, but I'm just really really curious—" And oh hells, her face is going a strange shade of red, finish the fucking sentence already. "—about how the whole beast-shaping thing works."

"Oh," she says, and then, with a too-wide grin, "Oh! That! Yeah, it's pretty cool, right?"

Relieved, Vax settles back in his chair. "Extremely cool. What's it like to fly?"

"Kind of scary?" Apparently encouraged by his rapt attention, Keyleth beams, and starts talking with her hands. He's not sure he's ever noticed that she does that. "I mean, you always know—from the bird's mind and instincts and whatever—how to fly, but you also still have that stupid half-elf brain going, no, this is a bad idea, crashing into the ground would work just as well. So you have to find that balance, because the bird's instincts probably aren't gonna be too helpful in battle, and that's where you want the half-elf part to come in."

"Kind of like doing something when you're a little scared, right? Just sort of pretend you're someone else for a bit. Only the someone-else has wings."

"Exactly!" Keyleth actually points at him, which doesn't make a lot of sense until Vax remembers that she's already had a drink tonight and doesn't have a particularly high tolerance for the stuff. "Yes, that! It's part of why I was so good at it as a kid, I think. It was a good escape. But no, it's amazing. You escape in your mind and you escape in your body at the same time."

"That really is amazing."

He watches her face shift through a few emotions, settling on suspicion. "You're not making fun of me, are you? Because people usually do, when I'm drunk or... or happy, or whatever."

Vax laughs. "I realize it can be hard to tell because I'm such a shit most of the time, but trust me, I am being sincere. That's fucking amazing. I'm glad you get to do something that makes you so happy."

She blinks, and the grin creeps back. "Thanks, Vax."

Percy and Tibs come back, then, having apparently forgotten their mission in favor of discussing the finer points of some needlessly complex philosophical conversation on the relative merits of science and magic, and Vax settles back to watch Keyleth hesitantly introduce herself to the debate.

It's safe and comfortable, and as he starts to doze off at the table he catches her glancing in his direction with a warm smile, and he thinks, Oh, but even that thought is lost to a slow, twisting dream of wings and black feathers.

vi.

Vax walks into a tavern.

There's a haziness to everything he touches, now, a chill clutch at the heart of each breath, a pressure like talons in his shoulder, and his feet are light with the terrible weightlessness of prey being lifted aloft.

It's only been a handful of days since Vex died.

"Hey," says Vex, grinning at him from a table next to the bar. "You look like shit, brother."

He sees her dying. He sees her dying. He sees her smiling at him, and smiles back a moment too late. "Didn't think you'd still be up."

"I wanted to catch you, if I could. You've been hard to reach, lately." The smile crumples, and something twists sympathetically in his chest. "That's an understatement. Sit down."

"I should go to bed."

Vex stands, instead, and in the motion he sees the limp sprawl of her limbs, feels her resting too-heavy in his arms. She reaches out, stops just short of touching his arm. "Were you out in the storm?"

It's cold. Warmer here. He shivers at the specter of darkness in the corner of the room, a shadow concealing motion. A figure, watching. "I'm all right. It got cold out there quicker than I expected."

Vex leans back, away from him. "You're scaring me, Vax."

"I know. I'm sorry." You too. "I should get some rest."

"Yeah," says Vex, and sits on the edge of the table. "You know I came back, right? It's just like with Pike, and she's okay. Right?"

Fear thrums in his chest, a long finger beckoning, threads spiderwebbing around him. A tangle around her. Pull in just the right place, and it all unravels.

"Sometimes," Vex says, when he doesn't reply, "I think you're looking at me and seeing a stranger."

"I know. I'm sorry." You too.

Vex slams an open palm down on the table, then drags him into a hug, all warmth and strength and certainty. "We're still here," she says, hoarse in his ear. "We belong here. Fuck anyone who says otherwise. That's always been the rule. We belong here."

He sighs, heavily, rests his chin on her shoulder, and listens to her breathing.

...

Vax walks into a tavern, hair sodden and tangled across his face.

At the bar, a goddess waits.

[ancient-trees]

So, tell me about your fictional children! I like hearing about people's characters! ^^

Thank you for asking! Putting this under a cut because it’s really long. Includes minor spoilers, especially for Tamuran, but nothing earth-shatteringly major unless you haven’t read the comic.

tl;dr:Varony: monster nerdEffire: snarky cobra nerdMath: grumpy old man nerdEmmie: +10 EPIC NERD also the best grandma

Versinthenet: dragon nerdRathe: swordie nerdPerrath: overly helpful nerd (w/ bonus cool doggo)Sukah: Gandalf is on strikeAleoth: the angstiest nerd

and Artreias: mostly an asshole (secretly a huge nerd on the inside, don’t tell anybody)

NERDS ALL NERDS.okay, read on:

I’ll start with Tamuran - I assume that’s what most people are following me for:

Varony you know if you read the comic - he’s the guy in my Tumblr icon. He belongs to a race of big arboreal predators that live deep in very dangerous forests, but for now he’s (sort of but not quite voluntarily) bound in the form of a big gangly human. For the most part he is okay with this arrangement (all except for the new “possibly permanent” aspect - see recent events in the comic). He’s endlessly curious, and he thinks humans are the weirdest, most bewilderingly fascinating things he’s ever encountered. He’s been human-shaped for (most of) about six years at this point - shortly after he was changed, he was found and taken in by a clan of traveling merchants, who taught him language and basically How To Human. They became a second family to him, as have the Ragtag Band of Adventurers he’s currently found his lot thrown in with, but sometimes he misses the trees.

Uh, stuff that I don’t think has been covered in the comic already: Back home, Varony (or Hhr'skhygh - approximation of his *growly-noises* real name) lived with his pack, which included his mother and three older siblings. His sister’s pretty cool, his brothers are jerks. He’s a good hunter, but his pack always saw him as something of a weirdo - asks too many pointless questions, wants to know EVERYTHING about EVERYTHING. When he was little he used to love listening to his grandfather tell his people’s folktales, and legends about the outside world. And yes, he’s officially ace/aro, species notwithstanding. Humans just complicate it even more - his people’s mating rituals are pretty straightforward, while humans’ involve all sorts of flirting and bizarre games that catch him off-guard (and have gotten him into a few ..uncomfortable situations in the past, if you want to know what the deal was with him freaking out on poor Jadsira in chapter 14).

Effire is a Morphus - one of the magical, long-lived Tu Naul race who was born with shapeshifting abilities. All Morphyx get bound into a single animal form and magically bonded to a “worthy” human (for the duration of the human partner’s life) as a sort of cultural exchange/community service. Effire was never too keen on that idea, especially after he found out his partner would be a Zharus Guardsman, and ESPECIALLY after his own bonded form turned out to be a cobra. But after getting used to one another, Effire found that his partner Morgen was a dreamer and idealist with a brain that never stopped - far from the meatheaded soldier-for-hire he was expecting. After their Zharus Academy training was complete, they were hired by the Patriarch of Tamuran to work palace intelligence and security and to keep an eye on the Patriarch’s elder sons as part of their personal guard (much to Prince Johlan’s irritation).

Effire tends to be cynical and sharp-tempered, but he means well. He would do anything for Morgen, whom he loves fiercely. He’s always liked exploring, especially poking around in places he’s not supposed to be. His favorite animals to turn into before he was bound were falcons, swallows, and other quick, agile birds - it was a pretty big blow to be stuck in a form that doesn’t even have limbs. Being part of a prince’s royal guard at least means he’s gotten to travel from time to time, and between Morgen and palace goings-on his life is seldom boring… though the way things have gone lately, he’s starting to really wish for boring…

Mathim hasn’t shown up in the comic yet - the Atriand-side plotline follows his story. He’s a former colonel in the Atriand army who was discharged early for an injury that never healed right, and at this point he’s retired to a town out in the wilderness, a cantankerous old bastard who spends his time drinking too much and cussing out the neighbor kids. His troublemaking teenaged grandson - the only living family he isn’t estranged from - disappeared about a year ago without a trace, though Math’s suspicions lean toward sorceric activity. When strangers pass through town bringing odd rumors, it might finally be the key Math needs to find the kidnappers. But Math has secrets - he was born with a forbidden form of magic, a dangerous, volatile power that has terrified him all his life. The same power that he passed on to his grandson, the power that made the boy a target of sorcerers in the first place. And now Math is going to need to unlock that power if he wants to have any hope of saving his boy…

Emianna was supposed to be a minor character, but she insisted on becoming a lot more important than we’d planned (and I’m glad she did). She’s Math’s wife, who died a few years before the comic story but still plays a big role in it. She was a huge nerd and avid naturalist, though poor health kept her working in libraries rather than pursuing science in the field. The daughter of a prominent Atriand military family, she used to pretend to be a bit daft at her family’s social functions, so that ambitious suitors would focus their attention on her sisters and leave her alone. At least until a shy young officer in search of a restroom literally stumbled over her reading in a closet during one of those parties… 

Emmie likes: books, books, and more books, SCIENCE, yaoi. And also being Gramma Emmie to her family - she’ll make you some amazing cookies, but you might have to pry her out of her lab to do it.

Novel characters: From several books, which are intended (if all goes well) to fit together like puzzle pieces and thus are sort-of in development at the same time (in other words, my notes are a mess).  Standard disclaimer that nothing is 100% canon till the books are finished.

Versinthenet is a dragon. In my setting, dragons are features of the landscape - half-physical, half-spirit beings that come into existence in places where intense magic pools and snags, and serve to tie Magic to the physical world. They can’t physically travel far from their magic “nodes,” but they can use the tides of Magic to communicate with other dragons and watch events as they unfold elsewhere in the world and also stupid cat videos.  Most dragons are located far from human settlements, but some of the ones who do live near humans use their influence over local magic to become patron protectors for their area, and in return the humans see to any physical-plane needs they may have. Verse (don’t call him that to his face) was one of these - fairly young as dragons go, he calmed the seas, quelled storms, and ensured good fishing for the people of his island. But centuries of watching human conflicts and atrocities, capped with events involving the death of his closest mentor, have started him questioning whether these people deserve his help after all. Then an idiot wizard shows up with the audacity to try to bind him and use his magic. The binding attempt goes horribly wrong - the wizard dies and Verse finds his consciousness pulled into the wizard’s body, while the rest of his Dragon self, mindless, flies off to wreak havoc, pulling frayed Magic into a hurricane around itself as it goes. Now Verse has to figure out how to set things right, while being blamed for the actions of the wizard who made this mess… before the dragon unleashes its wrath upon the whole island, or the islanders find a way to destroy the revered protector who has betrayed them. (Beyond all that, the consequences of such a tear in the network of magic may be farther-reaching than anyone is prepared for…)

So yeah, he’s not having a very good day.

Rathe is quick, athletic, great with a sword, and wants to be a hero like the ones in the storybooks. Unfortunately, she’s the daughter of a highly-respected family of scholars in a society that abhors all forms of violence and prizes learning and tradition above everything else. Events conspire to lead her away from home and into the life of adventure she’s always craved… but when her wizard traveling companion goes and does something really, really stupid, she’ll find out that heroing is a lot more complicated than she expected… especially when it involves facing personal secrets she thought were buried in the past.

Perrath has had a magical gift since he was a child - the ability to mend things that are broken - and a passion for helping people to go along with it. Unfortunately, one night a mysterious storm blew away all the magic in his village, including his innate talent, and he’s been searching for it ever since, with a sole still-functional(?) finding charm leading the way and his dog at his side (whom he talks to. A lot). He misses his magic, but he’s found that in the meantime he really enjoys a life of wandering - going wherever his finder points him, meeting new people and exploring places he’d never heard of, using his mundane skills to repair people’s things in order to get by. Until he finds himself in a sticky situation out in the uncharted wilds, and learns that promising to fix something for malevolent shadow-demons is maybe not a good idea…

Sukah is a semi-immortal guardian mage, bestowed with certain powers and nobly tasked with the protection of humanity. Only it’s hard to do your job when your partner has long since disappeared, halving your power, and nobody wants your help or even listens to your advice anymore. So he’s watched history unfold from the sidelines, telling himself that if people want to make a huge mess of things that’s their business.  A crisis involving two worlds and the fabric of magic itself, along with the reappearance of someone he’d thought long dead, might be enough to convince him to dust off his old magic and get back in the fight, but by then it might be too late…

Thanks to a valiant sacrifice-beyond-hope made by the parents she’s never known, Aleoth supposedly harbors within her the soul of a great evil… and no one has ever let her forget it. Stifled and stigmatized by those who were supposed to be her protectors, she runs away and takes up with a band of notorious brigands. But whatever she does, she can’t escape the unnerving creature that has haunted her dreams all her life, or the disasters that seem to follow her steps.  When [plot happens] and events begin to come crashing in around her, she’ll have to figure out who and what she is and what she really stands for.

{Bonus shoutout to my college D&D character Artreias, a sorcerer/planewalker from Sigil who got stuck in a shit-ton of trouble thanks to his sketchy mage father’s sketchy past and even more sketchy friends. Treias was a minor noble on his mom’s side, well-to-do and highly educated, but he acted like he was from the streets since all the nobles he ever met were twelve kinds of terrible. He’d do just about anything to protect his family, though (blood family and family-of-choice), especially his younger sister, and including Infuriating Sketchy Dad, whom he loved anyway. Unfortunately the rest of the party characters hated him, since (thanks to the mysterious circumstances that got him thrown into the campaign events) he had a “trust no one” attitude and could be kind of a jerk about it.}

[jillmckenzie1]

Time Is Like a Cold Wind

I’m Thinking of Ending Things is streaming on Netflix

The movie isn’t the problem. I’m the problem. Nobody ever said art was easy, right? Making art can be something that goes beyond difficult. It can go to a place that feels like self-flagellation, as if you’re hurling your entire body against a brick wall. All in service for…what, exactly? The slim possibility that your artwork manages to escape into the wild, a viewer sees it and thinks, “Ah, I see what you’re doing. Good work.”

Art is a two-way street. It requires both an artist and a viewer of the art.* I get it, and I’m someone who works both sides of that particular street. On one side, if I’m writing, I understand sweating over a particular turn of phrase. I feel the seemingly endless rewrites to refine the project and shape it into its ideal self. I know the terror of putting in all that time and effort and feeling like it simply isn’t good enough.

On the other side, if I’m writing a review, I’m trying to figure out if what the filmmaker is doing works. Whether it’s worth our time and money, well, those questions don’t matter. Most of the time, when a filmmaker pulls it off, I enjoy the end result. Once in a while I don’t, and that’s very much the case with Charlie Kaufman’s newest film, I’m Thinking of Ending Things.

We meet a young woman (Jessie Buckley), whose name could be Lucy, Lucille, Amy, or possibly Yvonne. She gets into a car driven by Jake (Jesse Plemons). They have been dating for a few weeks, five, maybe six, or maybe far longer or shorter than that. Their plan is to drive to the desolate farm where Jake was raised, and for Jake to introduce the young woman to his parents.

The drive is a long one. We know that as this first scene with the two of them literally runs a little over 17 minutes. Do they mind the length of the journey? Perhaps, though the conversation is wide-ranging. Yet during it, we repeatedly hear her voiceover, saying, “I’m thinking of ending things.” Does that mean a break-up? Does it mean suicide? Does it mean a radical shift in her perspectives? The only thing we do know for sure is that the weather is getting worse.

The drive has a sense of foreboding, and their arrival at the farm doesn’t improve matters. Jake guides her into a barn, shows her the surviving sheep. Some of them have frozen to death, and when she points this out, Jake tells her a story about the family’s pigs becoming infested with maggots. As this happens, a different narrative is intercut, one showing an old man working as a janitor in an empty high school. What’s his connection to the couple?

As the couple enters the house, it’s too quiet for too long. His parents come down the stairs. They’re all smiles when suddenly the young woman finds herself alone at the foot of the stairs, and everyone is waiting for her in the dining room. Mother (Toni Collette) is happy to see her boy, so much so that she edges into hysteria, while Father (David Thewlis) makes quiet asides that are barely understood.

During the dinner, we’ll see them become older, become younger, and edge in and out of dementia. We’ll see the couple leave afterward, and Jake will mention a number of events that the young woman doesn’t remember. As the bad weather gets worse, they’ll stop for ice cream, encounter a group of sinister employees, and one of them warns the young woman about something indescribable and awful. All the while, she continues to think about ending things.

You can be forgiven for reading the preceding paragraphs and reacting with, “The hell is that all about?” Relax, I’m here to help. I’m Thinking of Ending Things was written and directed by Charlie Kaufman, a filmmaker with a profoundly unique voice. Kaufman has exactly zero interest in pandering to “regular” moviegoers, as evidenced by his involvement in films like Being John Malkovich, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and Synecdoche, New York.

As a director, Kaufman seems to have made exactly the film he wanted and made it with precision. His cinematographer Lukasz Zal shoots in a claustrophobic 4:3 aspect ratio, making the screen shape feel tight and focused. So much so that we have to pay attention to what we’re seeing and consider what’s missing. Carefully chosen edits, from an interrupted sentence to the disappearance of a roomful of people, creates a building sense of unease.

Kaufman based his script on the novel of the same name, and while it’s a fairly faithful adaptation,** he allows his idiosyncrasies to come to the forefront. His script focuses on, among other things, how we perceive time and how we try and fail to make connections. It’s positively drenched in dream logic and surrealism. If you treat it like a puzzle to be solved, you’ll come away from it frustrated. The script doesn’t make it easy, with long conversations, poetry recitations, and a moment where a Pauline Kael film review is quoted verbatim. I found that when I relaxed and let it just wash over me, I got the gist of it. At least, I think I did.

To perform a role in a Kaufman project, you need to be an actor of considerable intelligence, one that can dig through heavy dialogue and seemingly confusing character motivation to bring out something relatable. His cast does outstanding work, and I loved the almost anti-chemistry that Jessie Buckley and Jesse Plemons have as the couple. There’s something severely off about Plemons’ Jake, yet he never plays the character as simply a weirdo or a maniac. There’s a deep wound to Jake, one that never healed as he aged. Buckley does outstanding work as the young woman, and she plays the role with intelligence, humor, and curiosity.

In a just world, Kaufman would receive a few million dollars every couple of years to go off to make something fascinating and stubbornly outside the cinematic mainstream. His work is complex, intelligent, and always funny to a degree. In the end, it doesn’t matter that I didn’t care for I’m Thinking of Ending Things. What matters is that Kaufman made art. He made it his way with skill, intelligence, and no interference from meddling studio executives. How can you not respect that?

  *Is it still art if nobody sees it? I didn’t expect to write a Buddhist koan, but there we are.

**Ironic considering the plot of his screenplay Adaptation.

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