#how were people not supposed to fall in love with him? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aquaticmercy · 1 day ago

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My Own Soul’s Warning

Summary : You, an immortal being, falls in love with the very mortal Bucky Barnes. You would do anything for him, even if it meant you had to strike a deal with Death herself.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : Violence, death, trauma, mentions of sex (not graphic), cursing. Rio Vidal makes an appearance. Angst with a happy ending. Fluff!!!!

Word count : 6.3k

Note : This fic was inspired by Agatha and Rio, though this has a much happier ending. Reader is the Spirit of Suffering, an immortal entity who shows herself to people in extreme physical and emotional suffering to help ease the pain. The title is inspired by the Killers song of the same name. The fic started in the 1940s and ends after FATWS. Enjoy!

The first time Bucky saw you, it was 1942. He was in the trenches, under the dim moonlight of Germany.

He was supposed to be Sergeant James Barnes, fighting to defend his country. But then? He was only selfishly fighting for his own life.

The air was thick with the stench of mud, sweat, and blood. The world around him felt like a prison of haze and darkness— machine guns firing in the distance, the rumble of explosions shaking the ground underneath him.

He knew it only took one mistake, one slip up, and this is how he would die.

He was tired beyond anything he’d ever felt before, his body crumbling after days without sleep. His body ached from wounds he hadn’t couldn’t treat— the infirmary was crowded, too crowded to even see the ‘small’ gushing cut on his forearm that didn’t feel so small right now.

But he could take the physical pain. It was the gnawing fear that was the hardest to bear, creeping over him, curling around his ribs like a rope, tightening until it hurt to breathe.

Then, through the smoke and shadows, he saw you.

You were just a figure at first, standing a few yards away. You were cloaked in the same darkness that had swallowed up his world. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed that you didn’t quite belong.

You were almost radiant, the flickering light from the fire catching on something otherworldly in your gaze. Bullets flew past you, going through your being as if you were only made of smoke.

You were watching him, silent and still. Your expression was carefully neutral, a warmth in your eyes that cut through the cold surrounding him.

He blinked, half-believing you were just a figment of his exhaustion.

When he opened his eyes again, you were still there, a steady presence in the middle of the chaos. Bucky felt a strange sense of peace swallow him, like the world had gone silent in the space between his heartbeat and your gaze.

You didn’t say a word, but you didn’t need to. Just being there, in a place where everything was twisted and brutal and so fucking wrong, you felt like a sliver of peace in this nightmare that was wartime.

Something deep in his gut told him that he wasn’t meant to understand who, or rather what, you were. And yet, he felt safer at the mere presence of you. Before he could reach out to test if you were real, you were gone— slipping away into the dark like a ghost.

—

The next time he saw you was when he was half-dead, bleeding out in the snow after the fall from the train. The pain was more than unbearable, raw and sharp and insufferable. His nerves burned, radiating from every shattered bone, every freezing inch of his numb skin.

His vision blurred, the sky above flickering in and out of view as his mind faded in and out of consciousness. He wondered if this was going to be his death, a slow and dramatic fade to black he only ever saw in the movies Steve dragged him to.

Then he saw you again, standing in the snow.

The sight of you jolted him back to consciousness, just enough to cling to the edge of the living world. This time, there was no mistaking the look on your face— a look of concern.

For a moment, he thought you must be an angel coming to collect him.

You must be.

There you were, silently watching him with that same expression of warmth he’d seen in the trenches.

He struggled to sit up to get a better look at you, every little movement sent pain shooting through him. Finally, he slumped back to the snow in defeat, breathing hard.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was hoarse, nearly swallowed up by the howling wind.

The cold, harsh winter wasn’t a place for someone who looked as fragile as you, he thought.

You carefully took a step closer, as if unwilling to disturb him. There was a slight curve to your lips, something that could have been a smile but wasn’t quite, as you looked down at him. “I’m looking out for someone.”

He swallowed a strange lump in his throat, the sharp tang of fear and curiosity contrasting the cold bite of the freezing air. “Who?” His voice cracked, barely audible.

“You,” you said, your voice as quiet as a prayer.

It was such a simple answer, but it hit him like a wave. In the midst of all the pain, he suddenly felt relief.

The hurt eased, the cold stung a little less.

He didn’t know if you were a dream, a ghost, or something beyond his understanding. But at that moment, he didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were there, that you had come for him. That he wasn’t alone.

As his vision started to fade again and the darkness crept back, he realised you didn't leave any footprints in the snow.

—

Bucky didn’t know why you kept showing up.

Over the years, he felt your presence like his own shadow, drifting through the Hydra bases, the laboratories, the dark corners of the cell they kept him in between missions. The world around him was cold and sterile, a cage of steel where hope had no place, no right to exist.

Still, he saw you, quiet and watchful, a silhouette in the dim light.

He would catch glimpses of you while the scientists strapped him to machines, the hum of needles piercing his flesh. You were there, watching over him, as they shocked cold electricity through his veins. Each time, his eyes would land on you, and you’d watch him from the far corner of the room, with that same calm, steady gaze.

Everytime his eyes locked on yours, the pain eased, even if only a little.

It became easier to take the torture.

It became easier to find rest.

Over time, Hydra erased his memories.

Soon, he forgot his life. He forgot the people who used to love him, who grieved for him when he was lost.

But he had never forgotten you.

Maybe it was the first sign that you weren’t quite human.

One night, after a particularly brutal round of reprogramming, he saw you again, this time closer than ever before.

You stood by his bedside, where he lay in the dark, barely clinging to sanity. He blinked, pain searing in his throat. He tried to reach for you, fingers trembling, and felt nothing.

“Where did you come from?” he whispered, his voice rough and broken, as he felt that comfort once again.

The comfort he only had with you.

A soft smile touched your lips, something gentle and knowing. You were a light in the darkness of his fractured mind. “Far, far away from here.”

He closed his eyes, trying to etch your face to his memory, certain that if he did, he could take some small fragment of comfort back into the waking nightmare that was his brutal reality.

You knew, by the way his life was going, that you were going to see Bucky more and more.

It was the nature of your job, to look out for people like him.

After the next couple of visits, he started talking to you more and more— whenever he was left alone with his thoughts, whenever the pain or the hollow emptiness crept too close, he would search for you.

And you’d be there, listening to the murmured secrets he’d never told another soul.

He told himself you weren’t real, that he was just losing his grip on sanity, conjuring a kind face to stave off the horror. But that didn’t stop him from craving your presence.

—

Years later, he’d managed to break free of Hydra’s grip. He had carved out a life hiding in the far reaches of the world when he saw you again, as if you’d followed him through every corner of hell he’d tried to escape.

Romania was quiet, the kind of place where he could keep to himself. He had a run down studio apartment where the days blurred by and the silence was almost peaceful.

Yet in that solitude, you appeared again, lingering in the shadow of an alleyway, or standing just beyond his view on quiet, empty streets. He’d catch your gaze through crowds when he was most alone, and he’d feel an overwhelming sense of calm, an unexplainable rush he could only have with you.

It was on one of those quiet evenings, when he was washing dishes, that he saw you again, watching him from across the room. He stared, wiping his hands absently on the dish towel, still unsure if he was simply dreaming.

He called out in that soft voice of his, almost a whisper.

“Thank you for being here.” It was a simple admission, but it was true.

You tilted your head, that familiar gentleness in your eyes. “Always.” He replied.

The suffering he had recently was different— it wasnt physical as it usually was. It was an isolated sense of longing that broke the deepest parts of his heart, one that he couldn't quite heal himself.

Your warm and steady voice anchored him to the present. For the first time, he didn’t try to tell himself that you were a figment of his imagination. For just a moment, he let himself believe that you were standing there, real and alive, not just an invention of his lonely mind.

And even as you disappeared, slipping away into the shadows, the feeling of your presence lingered, filling the emptiness around him.

—

The last rays of Wakanda’s sun slipped over the treetops, bathing everything in a warm, honeyed light that somehow reached even into the white-walled lab where Bucky was preparing himself for a long, cold sleep.

He looked around, his gaze fixing on the distant horizon, the soft sounds of Shuri and the lab assistants moving in the background.

He could feel his heart pounding. He was terrified, the horror clawing into him, even though he knew that this was the right decision. He knew that it was the safest thing for him to do— to go back in the ice until his trigger words could be removed.

It didn't stop the instinctive dread of being shut away again, though.

And then he saw you, standing behind a desk. He didn’t know how you’d gotten there, or if anyone else could even see you.

But there you were, just as you’d been so many times before, giving him a piece of calm he didn't quite understand.

For a long moment, he said nothing. He only looked at you.

Somehow, you looked more real in this light, more human than he’d ever seen you before. Still, you had that hint of almost supernatural haze. He took a deep breath, feeling safer by the second, now that you were here.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” he asked, the words coming out like a whispered plea. He didn’t expect you to answer, not really.

His heart beat quicker as he waited, hoping you wouldn’t vanish as quickly this time.

You just smiled, that same soft, knowing smile you’d given him in the darkest hours of his life.

You nodded, “Only if you need me.”

The warmth of your words lingered in his mind as he took one last look at you. He felt the tension in his chest loosen, just enough to let him breathe again. He laid down, a feeling of peace settling over him.

He closed his eyes, holding the memory of you close, feeling the faint impression of your smile stay with him as he drifted into the dark.

—

The next time he saw you, it was in the middle of another waking nightmare—the battlefield of Wakanda, chaos erupting in every direction as the forces of Thanos closed in. Bucky was fighting on pure instinct, his body moving with an instinct he’d learned in war. He drew on more and more on his Hydra training and sheer luck.

After Thanos snapped, he saw you again. You were standing behind Steve, amongst the trees.

For the first time, your expression was not calm. You looked terrified. Your eyes, usually so steady, were wide, your face pale as you looked at him with a horror he’d never seen from you before.

Something inside him understood. He knew, even before the feeling swept over him—a strange tingling, a disintegration at the frayed edges of his body—that he was about to be turned to dust.

He tried to reach out, to touch you, to ask if he’d see you on the other side, but before he could say a word, he felt himself fade, slipping into nothingness, his best friend’s name the last thing he uttered.

—

When he returned—when the world pieced itself back together after five long years—he felt the dread of loneliness again.

You came, though it felt like you carried a deeper sadness in your gaze than before. It was as if you had… missed him.

When Steve left, when Bucky watched his best friend walk away, disappearing into a life they’d both only dreamed of, he felt the emptiness he had left in his wake.

He stood there, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, feeling a hollow emptiness settle inside him, knowing he’d lost something irreplaceable, something that could never be returned when Steve decided to live a life he always wanted.

Then he saw you again, just a few steps next to him. He almost didn’t dare to look, afraid that you’d vanish if he did. When he finally turned, there you were, as calm as you’d always been, watching him with that familiar warmth and understanding.

“You’re not alone,” you murmured, your voice so gentle it felt like a medicine to the sickness of his soul.

He swallowed hard, nodding as he looked down. He tried to keep his composure, though he failed.

He couldn’t bring himself to ask you who you truly were, if you truly knew the depth of what he’d lost, if you understood the kind of grief that was now carved so deeply inside him.

And you did. Grief was a human suffering, after all.

You stayed there, silent, a quiet witness to his pain as you offered a supernatural solace.

—

Over the years that followed, you'd show up when the loneliness clawed too deep, when the nightmares took hold or when the silence of his apartment was too much to bear on his own.

He started talking to you more than ever before.

When the silence weighed heavy on him, he’d glance into the shadows, almost expecting you to appear. And, as if by some unspoken agreement, you’d arrive just in time.

Yet, you never came too close. You stayed at a distance, as if you were made of something too fragile for this world. Bucky never minded, though. He had learned early on that pressing you for answers, for explanations, only ended with your departure. So he stopped asking them. He started accepting your presence as a gift he wasn’t meant to understand.

You were simply…there, steady and unchanging, offering comfort and warmth in a way no one else could.

He’d tell you things he wouldn’t dare tell anyone else—confessions that clawed up from the darkest corners of his mind, memories from the days he wished he could erase. You would listen, without judgement, without a flicker of fear or revulsion. Your presence only ever brought you peace.

In those quiet, lonely moments, he came to rely on you, to look for you in the shadows. You were a silent companion in his darkest hours. And though he never stopped wondering who you truly were, he let himself believe, if only a little, that he had someone, that you were real enough to him.

—

One night, after a long silence had fallen between you, he confessed something.

“You know,” he said, his voice thick with sorrow and exhaustion, “I don’t… I don’t think you’re real.” He tried to smile, but it was faint. It was hollow. “I think to you’re just… my mind is playing tricks on me. I think I needed someone so badly that I made you up.”

He was laying himself bare. Raw. Vulnerable.

He was almost afraid to look at you, afraid that if he did, you would disappear, proving his confession true. Then, he forced himself to meet your eyes, searching for any sign of reaction.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t deny it.

You only looked back at him with that same soft understanding.

“You’re just…” he murmured, trailing off. “You’re the most beautiful person I could imagine, someone I must have conjured to… to keep me from losing my mind.” He laughed bitterly, rubbing a hand over his face, not quite meeting your gaze. “Because no one like you would actually be here. Would actually want to be with someone as broken as me.”

He waited, his heart beating harshly. Part of him hoping you’d break the illusion, that you’d tell him he was wrong, that you were real.

Faint sadness flickered in your eyes. “Suffering has never broken you before,” you said, “It will not break you now.”

You didn’t confirm his fears, but you didn’t deny them either.

That quiet, ambiguous acceptance soothed him more than any promise could have.

He let the questions go, even though they lingered in the back of his mind.

He came to understand that perhaps it didn’t matter if you were real or not. He only needed you.

—

It was the dead of night, and Bucky was trembling.

He had woken up in cold sweat, the remnants of his nightmare gripping him like icy chains. He sat up, pressing his hands to his face, trying to push away the memories that refused to fade, the fractured images of a past that haunted him even in sleep. He swallowed, his voice rough, almost a whisper, as he murmured into the dark.

“Where are you?” he rasped, his voice thick with desperation. “Please, come back.” His heart pounded, his words barely a breath as he called for you, “Come back to me.”

He let his head fall into his hands, feeling so fucking foolish.

He should've known.

He should’ve known that after all this time, he was still calling for a ghost, for a figment of his imagination, for someone he’d conjured out of pure, pathetic loneliness.

As his breathing slowed, he felt something shift in the quiet corners of his room. A familiar warmth settled over him, gentle and comforting. He raised his head, and there you were, standing just a few feet away.

For a long moment, he simply stared, disbelief and wonder filling his stare. You looked more solid than he’d ever seen you before, as if reality had woven itself around you.

Light no longer passed through you. Your footsteps made thudding sounds on the ground. You tripped over a couple of the steps, as if learning how to walk with legs for the first time.

You moved closer towards him.

Seeing him so shaken, so desperately calling for you, had drawn you out in a way that felt irreversible. His cry was a pull too strong to resist.

Gently, you reached out, your fingertips brushing his cheeks, tracing the faint stubble along his jaw, the warmth of his skin grounding you in this physical form.

It was wrong for an immortal entity as ancient as you to take human form— you felt weaker, and your grasp on the unknown faltered. You knew, when you inevitably had to return to your ethereal form, that you would be exhausted. That it would hurt.

But after nearly a century of watching over James Buchanan Barnes, you had to know what his skin felt like.

His breath hitched at your touch. Slowly, his hands rose, trembling, to cover yours, pressing your palms to his face as if he was afraid you might disappear.

He blinked, eyes wide, searching your face. “You’re… real,” he breathed, his voice barely a whisper, an astonished relief flooding his eyes. “I can feel you.”

You nodded, letting your hands cradle his face, your thumbs softly brushing over his cheekbones. For a while, you stayed like that, letting his mind settle on the reality of you.

“Who… who are you?” His voice was filled with awe. His gaze locked onto yours, desperate for answers.

You took a steady breath— and it felt off, like you had to learn it.

You had never needed to breathe before. But now, you needed it as much as you needed him.

You knew that him knowing what you were wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“I am the Spirit of Suffering,” you said quietly, your voice as soft as the night around you. “I ease the pain of those who suffer, showing myself to those who need me most. For eons, I’ve been drawn to pain, to sorrow. But… I’ve never been drawn to someone like you.”

His brow furrowed, confusion mingling with a sense of awe as he processed your words. He searched your face, as if trying to reconcile the warmth of your touch with the truth.

“You’ve been watching over me?” he murmured, struggling to fully grasp the revelation.

You nodded, the truth spinning between you like a fragile thread. “Yes,” you admitted, your voice gentle, almost a whisper. “Every time you were in pain, it was my job to be there. The natural forces would not let me stop what happened to you, James, but I could keep you company, share the weight of your sorrow.”

He closed his eyes, his hands still covering yours. His grip on you tightened, trying to anchor himself to this moment. “So all those times I thought I was imagining you…”

“You weren’t,” you said softly, your gaze unwavering.

He took a shaky breath.

You sat on the bed next to him, feeling the softness of bedsheets for the first time in your eternal existence.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, James.” Your hand drifted down to cover his heart, feeling its steady beat beneath your palm. “In all the lifetimes I’ve witnessed, through all the suffering I’ve felt, I’ve seen people become monsters, lose themselves to pain and suffering. But you… you never let it consume you. No matter how much they took from you, no matter how much you suffered, there’s still kindness in you.” You smiled, a flicker of admiration in your gaze. “You were the first person to show me that suffering doesn’t have to destroy.”

Bucky’s throat tightened. He reached up, his fingers brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

His touch was fleeting, as if he still couldn’t believe you were real. He searched your face, seeing the depth of who you truly were. He saw your boundless compassion, the centuries, maybe millenia, of understanding that lingered in your gaze.

You had been more than a dream, more than a figment of his imagination.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice filled with a sincere gratitude, “for helping.”

As you looked at him, you realised just how much he needed you. And perhaps just how much you needed him.

—

Every night that he called for you, you’d be there for him, sacrificing your eternal strength just for a moment.

Just before the dawn’s first light, you’d pull away from Bucky’s life and disappear, dissolving back into the unknown.

You always lingered as long as you could, your human heart aching at the thought of leaving him alone again. But still, you slipped away, returning to your role as the silent companion of suffering, never able to stay beyond a few hours.

But Bucky kept calling for you.

Sometimes he’d wake from a nightmare, his voice rough with sleep and fear, calling you like a prayer, like you were the only thing anchoring him to this world. Sometimes he’d simply whisper into the dark, reaching out with an open hand, searching for your touch.

And each time, you answered. Despite the strain it placed on you, the unnatural weight of becoming flesh and blood for him, you would come back. You took on human form again and again, letting him feel the warmth of your hands. You told yourself that you could bear it, that his comfort was worth any mortal pain that your immortal spirit had to carry.

One night, in a moment of weakness, as you sat together on the edge of his bed, he looked at you with an intensity that made you feel as if your duties had disappeared.

The silence stretched, and you could see what his eyes carried. The tenderness, the gratitude, the fierce need for you. He lifted a hand, gently brushing his fingers along your cheek. The softness of his touch reverberated through your flesh and blood. You were suddenly made aware that you had a beating heart as it was pounding against your fragile ribcage.

Before you could process the feeling, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was gentle, soft as a whisper, but it set something inside you alight, a sensation you’d never known before.

You had seen humanity’s love from a distance, had watched the joy and heartbreak it could bring, but this… this was something beyond mere understanding. His lips were warm and real against yours, the taste of him grounding you in this fleeting human form in a way that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

For a moment, you were frozen, feeling his heartbeat under your fingertips, the rhythm steady, grounding. And then, almost instinctively, you kissed him back. You leaned into him, feeling the depth of his sorrow and his hope in that single, shared breath.

Every inch of you felt alive, pulled into his gravity, the intensity of this moment overwhelming every human sense you didn't think you’d ever experience.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “I’ve waited so long to feel this,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “To feel you like this.”

You felt a swell of emotion like a lightning strike— something so unfamiliar and impossible to ignore. You were a spirit who had known only of pain and how to relieve it, who had wandered the world in search of suffering to ease, yet this—this was something else entirely. This was desire, love—all foreign feelings that made you want to stay, to linger in his arms a little longer.

But dawn was coming, as it always did. Despite the ache in your chest, you knew you had to go. The world was waiting; and others needed you, too.

With one last touch, your fingers brushing along his cheek, memorising the feeling of his skin.

You slipped away, dissolving back into the unseen, feeling his absence as if it were a physical wound.

—

It became a brutal cycle.

Every morning you would go, and every other night, when he called, you returned. Each time, the kiss lingered in your memory, the softness of his lips, the rush of your pulse, the racing of a heart that should not be yours to feel. It left you longing, yearning, pulling you back to him over and over, until every time you left felt like you were tearing yourself apart.

And though you slipped away at dawn, leaving Bucky alone with the shadows, you knew that a part of you stayed, lingering there beside him, just waiting for night to fall again so you could return to him.

One night, Bucky reached for you. His touch was gentle and filled with a hunger that was new to you.

Tonight, he had a human desire for you that you had only observed in passing. His fingers entwined with yours, rough and warm, pulling you closer with a care that sent a strange warmth rushing through you. You sensed a gravity between you, one that seemed to draw every part of your physical form into his orbit, a sensation you never could have understood in your ethereal form.

As he guided you towards his bed, his gaze stayed on yours, searching and vulnerable, as though asking for permission. You felt a flicker of understanding in his silence, a human fragility and need that made your heart—this temporary, fragile, human heart—beat a little faster.

You nodded.

When he leaned in to kiss you, the sensation was breathtaking, as it always was.

That night, he showed you the depths of human pleasure, the way mortal love could break open walls so high so intensely that the shockwave that came after felt endless. Every caress of his hands, every whisper against your skin, seared into you like a brand.

Bucky gave you something new, grounding you in sensations you didn’t know were possible. In his arms, your physical senses were overwhelmed by the beauty and ache of human desire.

With each touch, each shared breath, he showed you parts of himself he had never shown anyone in a long, long time.

And as he moved with you, every boundary between the known and unknown seemed to dissolve, leaving only the two of you, bound in a shared, silent understanding that felt more ethereal than anything you’ve ever encountered.

When it was over, he held you close, his fingers tracing soft, slow patterns across your skin.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice filled with wonder— it was the truth. His eyes met yours, laying his heart bare for you to do whatever you pleased with it. To cherish or to break, he really didn’t care, as long as you were the one holding onto it. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but I do.”

In those words, you finally understood humanity’s deepest, truest suffering—the need to love and be loved.

For eons, you had only known suffering, solitude. The burden of easing pain without truly being seen, without knowing love in its purest form. But with Bucky, it was different.

“I love you too, James,” you whispered. It was a confession, as much a promise as it was a revelation. And you meant it. You felt a love that was boundless, stretching far beyond what this temporary human form of yours could contain.

Days passed, and each night, he would pull you close, his touch tender, his words gentle. His love was a constant that anchored you in this fragile, borrowed form. But each morning, as the first light crept over the horizon, you would pull yourself away, fading back into the shadows.

Every time you left, you saw the ache in his eyes, a silent plea that grew more desperate with each parting.

—

One night, after holding you in silence, you felt Bucky suffered more than he ever did before.

You felt the sorrow, and even you couldn't calm him down from this desperate longing that had fragmented his heart into a million pieces— it was knowledge that you couldn’t truly be his and that he couldn’t truly be yours that had caused this pain. It was knowing that, as long as you were immortal, you couldn’t possibly belong to a mortal man.

“Please stay,” he whispered, his hands shaking as they held you. “Don’t go. I can’t… I can’t keep saying goodbye. I don’t want to only see you in fragments of stolen time.” He squeezed you. His eyes were filled with a raw, desperate longing. “I want you here— with me. Always.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his cheek. You wanted to say yes, to let yourself stay, to finally surrender to this love and the peace it offered. But you knew better than anyone of your nature. You were bound to the suffering of others, woven into the fabric of pain that had defined you for a long, long time.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, the words breaking as you forced them out. “I want to, more than anything. But I… I’m not meant to stay. There are others who need me.”

A flash of pain crossed his face, and he closed his eyes, trying to swallow the heartache that threatened to bury him. He nodded, though you could see struggle that lingered in the lines on his face.

“Just stay a little longer tonight,” he murmured, his voice tight, a bittersweet smile forming on his lips.

And so you held him a little longer, feeling the fragility of this human connection, the knowing that you would have to let him go. You stayed with him until the stars faded from the sky, until the dawn began to creep over the horizon. And as you finally pulled away, slipping back into the shadows, you felt a piece of yourself break, a piece that would always belong to him, no matter how far you wandered.

—

One day, as Bucky’s heart prepared to stop beating, you stood by him, devastated.

You were there as a phantom, feeling his soul slip through your fingers as he lay on the concrete after a mission gone wrong. He was unconscious, his life hanging by a thread as he fought to come back from the edge. In all the centuries of comforting humanity, you had never felt such fear, such desperation.

While you watched him, fragile and fading away, you felt something shatter deep within you.

His breath was shallow— his fate uncertain. He would only have minutes to live.

But you couldn’t lose him.

So you made a choice that you had once thought impossible.

With a heavy heart, you turned and sought out the one being who held the power to intervene: Rio Vidal, Death herself.

Death came to you quietly when you summoned her to the darkness neither of you occupied. She moved with an eternal calm, her presence as vast and ancient as the stars. She looked at you, her dark eyes filled with the weight of ages that rivalled your own. Her stare was neither evil nor kind.

You knew that she'd already understood why you called for her.

“Don’t take him,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Not now.” You were pathetic, desperation rising in frantically— a desperation that followed you into your ethereal form, an ache that you hadn’t known could exist in your immortal heart. “For the first time, I’ve found someone… someone I love. I can’t lose him.”

Rio regarded you quietly, her expression unreadable. She had seen countless souls come and go. She had met lovers, warriors, and spirits alike, each bargaining for one more breath, one more chance. But she had also never seen you — Suffering herself— here, pleading for a life. You, who had roamed the earth for centuries without attachment, a solitary being who moved through suffering like water, soothing but never bound.

To see you now, so deeply connected, intrigued her.

Perhaps, she gave you a chance because she once felt this way, too.

“What would you give?” she asked softly, sheathing back her blade.

The answer rose in you, going again your own soul’s warning.

“I’d give my immortality,” you replied without a second thought. “One day, you can take my soul, too. Just let me live beside him for as long as he has. Let me trade eternity for a single lifetime with him.”

Rio was silent for a long time, her gaze thoughtful, searching.

“Do you understand what you’re offering?” she asked, her voice a blend of curiosity and pity. “To become mortal is to surrender everything you have known—the ability to exist beyond pain and beyond time itself. You would feel suffering as they do, you would face the limitations of flesh as they do.”

"I’m sure.” you nodded with nothing but conviction, “I would rather face an end, rather give up everything, than live without him for a single moment."

Rio studied you one last time, her stare as vast as the void between stars. Then, slowly, she inclined her head, a flicker of respect in her eyes.

"When he is gone, I will come for you, too." Her voice softened just a little. "Cherish this life. It is not easily won."

When she vanished, you felt the world shift around you, felt your soul ground itself in ways it never had before. Your body solidified, your senses sharpened, and you felt, for the first time, the steady permanent rhythm of a heartbeat pulsing within your chest.

You were no longer the Spirit of Suffering, bound to pain and sorrow. You, now permanently, were flesh and blood– human in every sense.

And for the first time in forever, you felt real— mortal, permanently.

—

Bucky was recovering, weak but alive.

When you knocked on his door, he opened it, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw you standing there, no longer a fleeting vision that appeared in his room.

You walked all the way here, your barefoot aching from the harshness of the concrete.

You were solid, as real as he was, standing on his doorstep with tears in your eyes.

He had never seen you cry before. He wasn't even sure if you could.

"You're… you’re here," he whispered, reaching out as if to touch you, to be certain that you were truly there. His fingers brushed your cheek, feeling the warmth of your skin, and his hand lingered there, his thumb tracing along your cheekbone as if committing this moment to memory. “You feel different,” he murmured, awe in his voice.

“I’m here to stay,” you said, voice brimming with love you could barely contain, your own hand lifting to cover his.

He let out a shaky breath, and his eyes searched yours, filling with a warmth and disbelief so deep that it mirrored your own. He pulled you into his arms, holding you as though afraid you might vanish again.

But you didn’t.

You were here, bathed in sunlight, and real.

You melted into his embrace, feeling the thrumming of his veins against yours, knowing that, finally, your heart would beat alongside his for as long as time allowed.

-end

I would love to explore this further! Maybe Bucky helps you find a name, maybe even pulls some strings to give you a fake birth certificate and ID. Maybe he realises that time is fleeting and has a courthouse wedding with you ASAP.

Maybe Bucky introduces you to Sam as his wife, and he realises that he’s seen you before, when Riley got shot out of the sky.

Maybe Bucky introduces you to the Thunderbolts* as his wife, and they all would have seen you before, at some point in their life:

Yelena would have seen you when she stood over Nat’s memorial.

Alexei would have seen you when he got separated from his girls for the first time.

John would’ve seen you when he killed that flag smasher with Cap’s shield, grieving Lemar.

Ava would have seen you when she was a kid, phasing out in and out uncontrollably in extreme pain.

Antonia would’ve seen you when the bomb blew on her face.

Or maybe I could explore more of how it affects you. How you now have human guilt to live with, knowing there’s no one out there anymore easing human suffering. Now, you also have to deal with your own human suffering.

Maybe people keep recognising you, keep pointing you out as if they’ve seen a ghost because you once came to them in a time of need.

Maybe you keep your powers? Maybe I should explore how those powers would manifest in a human body?

Anyway, let me know if you’re interested in any of these ideas and I might write them!

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wonryllis · 21 hours ago

Text

✶ I'LL WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE 、park sunghoon.

( now playing ) i don't wanna live forever : i just wanna keep calling your name until you come back home.

FEATURING 𑁍 。 neighbour!sunghoon in the quiet beach town you moved to spend the summer before your residency starts. away from the pressure of the fast moving world, you find peace in his cliche little adventures and unaccounted flirting. loosely based off the movie 'float'. ( archive? )

GENRE & WARNINGS 𑁍 。 "he's super hot, so why not" trope, suggestive! making out kinda pg filtered, fluff, slight angst but ultimately a happy ending. WORDCOUNT — 2200 dot.

╱╱ NIE NOTES, strongly recommend listening to the song!! draft from march >< i hope y'all enjoy it!! & if you do please leave comments & feedbacks it keeps me going! & lastly please reblog!!

SUNGHOON WONDERS IF YOU WERE DESTINED TO FIND HIM IN THAT LITTLE ISLAND HIDDEN AWAY FROM THE WORLD.

"just jump baby, i'll catch you," sunghoon reassures you for the umpteenth time, extending his hands out as he convinces you to jump from your balcony to his. there's hardly much space inbetween yet you're scared, you've never done this before. and you've never felt this way before.

fear and feelings spinning in the air it's like a coming of age movie, a step into adulthood, a plethora of things you have never experienced and a guy you have grown the hots for, to spice it all up.

"trust me, i won't let you fall," his voice is soft and encouraging, albeit a little flirty.

you could walk up to his door at three in the morning and it wouldn't be a problem. no longer teenagers having secret rendezvous, but sunghoon insists on it being this way— because it's fun, because you are here to have fun, and because he's promised to be the one to bring you fun.

the town of st george was quiet, peaceful and mellow, more welcoming than the bustling streets of toronto where the life of your dreams awaited you. every breeze carried the smell of the ocean, tingling your scent glands with each breath you took. it was refreshing and cozy, it felt more home than your home had ever felt. like a calling of the unknown, it felt right to be there, like everything you had ever needed. a break from med school, and a hot neighbour right beside, your balconies barely you two feet away.

since you first arrived at the town, unsure of your decision to ditch your routine life and the prestigious summer internship, every moment felt like a battle against your morals. but when you looked out the window of your aunt's spare room, gazing over the tiny houses and backyards filled with so many stories, spending a few days without a plan seemed a tad bit more tempting than having to brood over the fact that you weren't supposed to be there.

park sunghoon was one of the first people you noticed there. dressed in a tank top, engine oil smeared all over as he fixed his car, in the rusty backyard you could see from the bedroom window. sweaty and sexy, buff and messily pretty, he looked young: made you wonder of his reasons to stay in a town where the average age had to have been at least forty. filled with people who sought refuge and people who looked for solitude, it was not a place for someone with big aspirations and dreams.

someone much like you.

"see it wasn't that hard," sunghoon whispers, arms holding you against him as you carefully place your feet onto his marbled balcony floor, cozy little plants adorning the corners.

he smiles at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and carressing your cheeks tenderly. you recall the time you were in the pool together, him teaching you how to swim, holding your hands as you paddled for the first time after an entire month of floating and kicking your feet by the side lessons.

feeling the water splash against your skin, feeling his own skin against yours and feeling your breaths mingle into one another as you made out right after. see it wasn't that hard, his words grazing against your lips.

it felt surreal. like you were doing the right thing. like you were right where you were meant to be.

the little bouts of uneasiness of constantly lying to your parents about your whereabouts and your intership, slowly seemed to slip away everytime you were with him.

you never realized how beautiful life was, how beautiful it was to just be happy and do what you feel like in the moment. and being with him taught you just that. he gave you courage to do what you wanted, the courage to face your troubles and the courage to find what made you happy.

“do you wanna go downstairs? i’ll make us lunch—”

“i just really wanna kiss you right now,” sunghoon's words die down in his throat when you throw your hands around his neck, looping them as you get on your tippy toes to press your lips into his.

the arms around your waist tighten and he immediately reciprocates the kiss, moving his lips against yours, slowly at first. savoring the taste of mangoes you just had together less than an hour ago. lazy licks and prolonged nibbles.

you body pushes foward against his, hands moving to the back of your thighs to pull you onto him as his knees hit the edge of his bed. kiss breaking for a split moment when you plop down on the mattress. foreheads touching and gasping for a long breath before diving right back into the kiss.

this time one of his hands grip the back of your head forcing you closer while your hands busy themselves in pushing under his shirt. gliding from his abs to his chest and then attempting to pull it off of him.

“shit baby, my sister's just downstairs—” sunghoon groans, pulling away in a haste to look into your eyes, feeling crazed at the way you seem to crave him. your warm skin brushing against him, the heat radiating through the pants. body pressing into him in all the right ways— wrong ways considering the situation.

“just a little longer please,” you reach forward, grabbing his face and mumbling against his lips before kissing him again. it is like a new found addiction, like a sparkle in a barren dystopia: intense, morish and the grief of having to leave it all behind. despite the obvious desire rolling off your tongue into his, sunghoon can feel the desperation of the situation where time in your hands stands limited.

where love stands limited and where life, stands apart.

goals ingrained in a space between choices that stand at odds, clashing against everything you have ever known, everything you have ever wanted to know.

there's a longing in the kiss you both are hesitant to address, the inevitable waiting for you at the end of the summer. “you are irresistible,” he pants into your mouth, fingers tracing shapes and squeezing the flesh of your thighs. pausing for a brief second and then leaning back in to press a couple more kisses. eyes closed, holding you in a tight hug after. one that sends your heartbeat to him and his to yours like a sync of feelings deep within your souls.

his thumb comes up to skim against your swollen lips as he mumbles,”i wish we met sooner,” biting the inside of his cheek at thought of you no longer being here by the end of the week. it is gonna be one hell of a hell to get back to a life without you. and as selfish as he wants to be, hoping to convince you to stay, sunghoon knows it is not right.

because unlike him, there is a whole different world waiting for you, outside this little island.

“me too.” the chirping of the birds reaches your ears, echoing in the silence of the room, piercing through the barely audible breathing. something that should only seem to calm you but now that you think of it, every place you would hear it, the sound of sunghoon's raspy voice wishing to have met you sooner would ring at the back of your mind.

from meeting the chickens he raised in his backyard to the story of his unavoidable choice to stay. from his lifeguard job at the beach to his early morning swimming lessons at the resident school pool. from helping him clean his old second hand car to kisses in his bedroom after a swim lesson. your summer was filled with things you never imagined to have experienced. a summer filled with genuine feelings. a place filled with happy memories.

a collision of paths so utterly different from one another, a fate weaved to happen: perhaps you and sunghoon were set to walk together, alongside, hand in hand. but perhaps it was just not the time yet.

there were things you wanted to achieve and places you wanted to be at. for now you would only wait with the hope of meeting him next summer.

“i'll come back, next summer,” you whisper, eyes locked with his, the sunlight from the balcony shining against his brown orbs,”i'll wait for you,” he smiles, holding you tighter.

YOU WONDER IF SUNGHOON WAS DESTINED TO MAKE YOU LOVE THIS LIFE, AWAY FROM YOUR PICTURE PERFECT ONE.

“yellow looks beautiful on you,” you are startled by the brush of sunghoon's lips against your earlobe, feeling his breath graze past your cheeks as he mutters, tone soft yet flirty.

you turn around to face him in a giggle, flustered still, even after all the flirting you went through all along summer. your eyes casting down to look at the flowy swimsuit hugging your body, embarrassment and confidence both tug at your heart.

“and the wet look, suits you,” a teasing gaze moves to scan him, arching your brows as you take in the exposed arms,”so well,” he is dressed in his usual tank top and shorts, albeit wet from what you assume, probably one of his lifeguard saves. skin tanned and shining, water dripping down his hair while he looks at you with squinted eyes..a hypnotic look that holds you back from breaking the eye contact.

“can’t believe you are in front of me right now,” he breathes out, taking a step closer in the sand, chest almost touching yours.

“can't believe it either. it's been a year,” your words tune out in a whisper, like a breeze along the shore, one that held so many hopes.

sunghoon's leans forward, his forehead resting against yours as he a mumbles a barely audible ‘yeah’. hands hesitantly coming up to hold your waist and then looping around in a firm grip.

yellow.

sunghoon spent the entire year looking longingly at all the yellows, yearning to catch a glimpse of you in every corner of the town you had been with him. watching the leaves fall in your aunt’s backyard while stealing glimpses at the window you used to stare at him through. the mango trees right across the road, reminding him of the taste of you, lingering at the back of his throat.

it was hard when everywhere he went he could only picture you by his side. it feels unreal to have you in his arms now, to think that once again, summer had come, and with it, it brought you.

perhaps it is love, that makes him crave you. he ponders, watching the sparkles of summer sun in your pretty and addicting eyes. wondering how he was able to survive a year without looking into them and feeling like you'll suck him in. no he has fallen in love, he concludes.

“you came to watch me flex my muscles, didn't you?” sunghoon asks, playing with the ends of your dyed hair, that looked shorter than he remembered. a sly smirk spreading across his lips, before he ducks down to nuzzle into your neck, leaving little open mouthed kisses against your exposed skin.

“you know i love it,” you tease, breath getting heavier and as his kisses get harsher.

“oh yeah? let's see if you actually know how to swim or you were just oogling me last summer,” your beach bag drops to the sand as sunghoon's arms hook behind your knees and he hauls you up in the air, throwing your body over his shoulder as he runs for the water.

tackling you into the waves, twirling you around and kisses along your face. so many unsaid words growing into emotions. squeals and giggles. a moment where you are in the moment, a moment where you are in love.

the bustling city of toronto housed the future you worked hard for, it kept you busy, it kept you passionate. your big aspirations and dreams, everything you had ever wanted, it held them all. you thought maybe, once you return to the life you knew, you'd eventually forget about this silly little island, and your silly little summer fling. you'd move on and chase the goals that had always defined you.

however, it seemed you failed to realize, that perhaps this was not what you wanted but what you needed and it did not have to define you. it could just be that: a silly little place that made you happy.

the town of st geroge was not a place for someone with big aspirations and dreams, someone much like you. but someone much like you was capable of falling in love with a place like that; and you did. you fell in love with that place. and you fell in love with park sunghoon.

TAGLIST ( open ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @ro-diaries @aaa-sia @enhabooks @criminalyun @oddracha @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @jayjw16enxp

#enhypen imagines #SUMMER FLING WITH HOT LIFEGUARD SUNGHOON >< lets gaur!#enhypen drabbles #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #enhypen sunghoon imagines #enhypen sunghoon smut #enhypen sunghoon drabbles #enha imagines #enha drabbles #enhypen reactions #enhypen angst

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loulovingho · 2 days ago

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If Tim and co really are surprised at the backlash and how popular Tommy and his relationship with Buck was, it's like, how? You PROMOTED them! They had Lou and Oliver do a joint interview at the end of the season (never been done for one of Buck's love interests before). They released the deleted scene with Tommy, Hen and Karen (which again showed how considerate Tommy was in the relationship when he said they were taking it at Buck's pace). They reposted their kiss on their socials when Pride rolled around (they could have easily used Hen and Karen instead). There were multiple interviews/stories where they discussed the ship after they first got together. And this isn't even counting the fact that they showed Tommy to be an attentive, caring boyfriend who always put Buck first - something Buck had never experienced with a partner before. And Tommy is the ONLY partner Buck has had that he has been a couple with over multiple seasons (yes Taylor was in multiple seasons but they were only an official couple in S5). How were people supposed to NOT fall in love with Buck and Tommy after all that, to expect the writers might actually be putting some effort in giving Buck a chance at working on a lasting relationship for once (getting off the hamster wheel anyone?)

I've said it before and I'll say it again - if they never intended for this to be long term, they should have given Buck some random for him to be his bi-awakening, and brought Tommy, someone who ticks all the boxes for what is required to work for Buck in a relationship that non of his other LI's had, in later as his endgame romance. Because they gave us someone who FIT for Buck, who actually made him happy, who fit within the 118 (and man, think of all the new rescues they could have added to the show if they occasionally collaborated with air support to link the two?) and the audiences loved that. It was lightning in a bottle and I don't see it happening again, especially as the audience now no longer trusts any relationship to last - because if Tommy didn't work, who will?

I think this all leads back to Tim being an idiot, if I’m being honest 😆

#I fully agree with you here #bucktommy #911 #tommy kinard

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lucygraysboy · 2 days ago

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“thank you, lucy gray. if anyone can help me out here, it’s definitely you.” it means the world to him to know that she’s not only letting him try and get close to joe again, but also offers to facilitate that process. he knows just how protective she can be over the people who are dear to her and appreciates the trust that she’s putting in him. “oh, you so are. you barely had two drinks and it was game over. also, not to embarrass you, but i didn’t know you were so handsy while drunk,” he continues to tease, wondering if she’ll smack or pinch him eventually. that would be just like the good ole days. “please, great mind think alike.” it’s yet another thing that he missed terribly. this connection. the ability to read each other’s minds. soulmate telepathy. “manuela will be so happy when i tell her ‘bout your mom’s quilts, i just know it. she hates big corporations and fast fashion and all that stuff.” she’s one of those people who actually shop very responsibly and always tries to support small businesses and cruelty-free, organic brands. billy’s certain she’ll fall in love with the handmade quilts, and with lucy gray, too.

“well, i’m not sure if i’m worthy of such honor, but let me think on it… if the mom’s name is moon, she needs something matching. star? aurora? polaris? give me some more time and i’ll come up with somethin’ good,” he promises, taking his job very seriously because he knows how special naming a new life is. “are you serious right now?” he chuckles, his pinky finger brushing against her own once they’re on the sidewalk, hesitating before curling around it and gently pulling her toward the entrance. the steakhouse is located on the 34th floor of the marriott hotel, offering 360-degree views of the nashville skyline, and the food’s supposed to be top notch as well. which is one of the reasons why billy picked this place. “so, you will nurse wild mustangs back to health but ridin’ a motorcycle is too dangerous? have some faith in me.” maybe she’ll warm up to the idea eventually. “i’ll make that happen.” both those things, of course. having her on set will be so exciting. “you’re very welcome, bambi doll.”

“i’ll talk to him.” even though she already reassured that, she still will make an effort to do so once she’s back home. knowing it won’t be easy but she will do whatever it takes to see a brotherly bond re-established as long as billy doesn’t abandon them both, since it’s not like she entirely trusts him. “who, me? i ain’t.” the songstress fibs, amusingly smiling as she looks out the window not wanting to admit to it. hiding her smile this way. “oh, i was just gettin’ ready to tell you that!” it excites her because he basically just read her mind, “she’s made a lot of nursery quilts. so, yeah, you definitely can.” let manuela know, she means. “we’re still decidin’. maybe you should help name her.” the brunette suggests, then frowns because she doubts a helmet is enough to stay safe on a motorcycle. of all things he went and did— he of course had to go get one of those contraptions. “i’m not sure i will.” take him up on that offer, she means as she gently smiles to not be rude. “well, i’d love to. and i’d love to come and visit the set.” that genuinely sounds so exciting, she hopes they can do it soon even. looking out the window once they come to a stop, she grabs her backpack and steps out when the door comes open for her. “thank you, darlin’.” lucy gray chirps, smiling gratefully as she looks up at him then steps to the side to let him lead the way.

#billysgirllol

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certifiedsexed · 3 days ago

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hey there! i don’t mean this in bad faith at all, and i’m not trying to use a term that’s a fascist dogwhistle. i promise i’m just confused😭

so i’m not a guy, nor have i ever been perceived as one, but in one of your recent posts, you said that men can’t experience oppression solely based on the fact that they’re men. which was kind of confusing to me — i don’t think you’re wrong, i think it’s me but i don’t know how to get to how you see it like that.

because in my experience, men can experience oppression because they’re men, although i don’t know if i’m saying that right or conflating the meanings of certain terms. i’m probably wrong, and would just love some clarification?

for example, my brother and i were always held to different standards growing up — it was expected of me to always cry and be emotional, and i was a ‘stone cold bitch’ if that wasn’t the case, but if my brother wanted to show negative emotions like sadness he was treated like there was something wrong with him too. and i know it wasn’t my brother — i spend a lot of time working with my high school’s diversity team, and in a lot of the events we organise, guys talk about how they feel enormous pressure to be angry and never sad, and to have stereotypically masculine interests and never deviate from that norm.

i also know men who’ve struggled to get jobs such as teaching as those are viewed as ‘female’ jobs and it’s a common view that men who want those jobs are ‘only in it to be around kids’. i’ve heard many women around me perpetuate sentiments like that, so i know they’re not making it up, even if it isn’t equal to the systematic oppression women face in almost every aspect of their careers.

i’m not providing these examples to prove you wrong, since i do think you’re right. i’m hoping that a window into the way i’ve always thought might help you clarify this in a way that can help me to change my mind, since i just think i’m lacking some clarity or context here. i think i’m conflating abuse and stereotypes with oppression, but i’m really not sure. any advice would be really appreciated!

i’m so sorry if this comes off badly, i don’t mean it that way. i’m just trying to learn, i promise i’m not trying to promote the kind of hate and close mindedness you’ve been seeing in your inbox as of late.

Hi! As always, I do not mind answering genuine questions!

The things you're talking about growing up and seeing boys around you pressured to present only certain emotions, that's part of the patriarchy!

Certain emotions are supposed to be "feminine" and thus boys shouldn't show them, while girls are often always considered "emotional" in some fashion. That's not oppression based on those boys being men that you're talking about.

It's the backlash that the patriarchy, and by addition trans/misogyny has on men. It's boys being pressured not to show certain emotions because those emotions are "feminine" and they're supposed to associate feminimity with weakness and shit.

What you're talking about there is also trans/misogyny!

The idea that men who do things perceived as feminine are predators, the idea that specific jobs are "female" jobs [while even in those specific female jobs, men are generally paid better and find it easier to get into those jobs than women trying to get into traditionally "male" jobs"]

[Though obviously this varies based on race and whether they're trans, etc, etc.]

To be a little more clear, all of the things you're talking about don't primarily affect cis men/boys. They fuck up transfems, because it's trans/misogyny.

You're right! It's not systemic oppression.

You might wonder if it's social oppression, which is also a no. Social oppression would require a historical/systemic oppression behind it. But that doesn't exist in this case.

What it is is the common issue oppressors run into. While they benefit greatly from oppression, there is also backlash they face from their own systems of oppression.

Like white people who fall into suicide cults trying to work towards white supremacy, or TERFs who fall into groups where they slowly pick each other off as they discover they're not all exactly the same and wind up accusing each other of not being "real" women, systems of bigotry simply do not work out perfectly even for the oppressors.

They never do.

To create the patriarchy, you must establish trans/misogyny, you must establish intersexism and you must push people to conform to those ideals, even if they hurt your own.

It's similar to how white supremacy can harm white people, despite white people obviously not being oppressed racially. The backlash of oppression hits even the oppressors sometimes.

Suppression, as a term, would honestly work far better to describe what you're talking about.

So yes, it's stereotyping, yes it's abusive to tell your children not to show/feel their emotions but it's not oppression based on these guys in your life being men! It's part of how trans/misogyny, transphobia and intersexism are enforced.

I understand exactly where you're coming from! It doesn't sound bad and I genuinely don't mind answering questions! Especially since you've got some good ones!

I'm not sure if I rambled too much to explain this properly but I hope this helps! Let me know if you have any other questions and/or need me to clarify anything here. <33

#sex education #asks #misogyny education #feminism #transmisogyny #intersexism #transphobia

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jubburb · 2 days ago

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》 "-ARE YOU COLD, MY DEAR?"

• @jubburb

ask: none.

sypnosis: waking up with your husband one morning and going on a walk in the snow.

a/n: ive been procrastinating this foreva, ik its short but I just want this out of the drafts so I can start writing more fics😼

warnings: female reader in mind when writing, but I'm not sure if I put any fem pronouns, just cute fluffy fluffness 😺

notes: ooc zhongli? definitely? maybe? idk.. u tell me

When fall hits Liyue, it can get pretty chilly pretty fast. The degrees quickly drop to fifty degrees and lower, previously being in around the eighties or nineties.

It's quite a sudden change. But a pleasant one, especially for tourists who come around during the seasons.

One quiet morning, you and your husband, Zhongli, are lazing about in your shared king bed. Zhongli was reading a book, idly playing with your hair with one hand, while you were still trying to wake up, laying your head on his broad chest.

"Mm.." You groan sleepily, reaching a hand up to rub your eye.

"Are you finally awake, my dear?" Zhongli chuckles, halting his hand that was intertwined with the tresses of your hair.

You simply nod, yawning, and sit up against his chest, feeling his hand snake around your waist to hold you closer.

"Do you have work today?" You ask, blinking a couple of times to actually fully wake up, staring up at him and he nods with a hum.

"I am, in fact, off today. What do you suppose we do?" He asks, placing the book down to give you his full attention.

"Sleep in?" You request with a chuckle, and Zhongli jokingly sighs, shaking his head no.

"Something productive, please, my dear." He says, playing with a strand of your hair once more.

"Sleeping is productive, Li." You retort, rolling your eyes, tempted to fall back into a deep slumber just to spite your husband.

There's silence for a moment as Zhongli thinks.

"-Oh, I know, what about a walk around the harbor? I'm sure nobody is awake during these early hours, so it'll be calm, quiet, and peaceful. Just the two of us." Zhongli smiles, cupping your cheek, his slightly calloused palm brushing against your soft skin.

"..Thats.." You start, ".. Not that bad of an idea."

"Knew it."

You only roll your eyes at his response, "Well, I guess we better get our lazy asses out of bed before it's too late and people start getting to work."

"You're the only lazy ass here." Zhongli chuckles with a whisper under his breath, getting out of bed before you could do anything about what he said.

"Oh you mother-"

As you two walk around the harbor, you did not expect it to start snowing..

The pretty white snowflakes started to dance across the sky before ultimately finding use on the ground, creating a soft blanket of snow covering the docks and pathways.

Aaaaand.. you forgot your mittens.. your hands were freezing, but if you told Zhongli, he would give you that: "i tOld yOu sO" bullshit.

Before you guys even left the house, Zhongli insisted you bring mittens, because, to quote him, "You don't even know how cold it is in the morning, love."

And of course, you just had to defy him, insisting that you'll be fine without mittens.

You really regret it now..

Even though you were clad in a comfy coat, your hands that were freezing seemed to freeze your entire body, and you were quivering every step you and your husband took as you walked around.

Zhongli looked through the shop windows, not really seeming to notice at first, but then he eventually heard your teeth starting to chatter together, and glanced back at you.

"..Are you cold, my dear?" Zhongli asks, staring at you with a concerned look.

"I-m f-ine.." You respond, your teeth clamming together continuously.

He glances down at your hands that were trembling the most, reaching his mitten covered hands hold them, and you immediately feel a sense of relief.

Zhongli smiles softly, chuckling a bit, and leaned forward to kiss your forehead, "I told you to wear the mittens."

"I kn-ow.." You chatter, before moving closer to cuddle into his chest, the two of you still holding hands, standing there for a while in the wintery streets.

Zhongli hums softly, his nose nuzzled into your hair as he smells your shampoo and conditioner, snow falling over his long brown hair and back.

You could fall asleep right there in the arms of your husband, but you'd rather get home before you get all lovey dovey, so you pull away, looking up at his handsome amber eyes.

"Let's head back, Li.." You say, and Zhongli nods, continuing to hold your hand.

He even not-so discreetly maneuvered it into the large pocket of his coat, so your hand could be even warmer as you two walked.

You smile softly, and lean your head on your husband's shoulder.

The two of you only left footsteps in your wake as you find comfort in eachother.

- signed by c♡

#genshin impact #fluff #genshin #genshin x reader #zhongli #morax #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #zhongli genshin impact #zhongli x reader #zhongli fluff #zhongli x reader fluff #jubburb

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callsign-dexter · 3 days ago

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Spooky Season

Request: Please a (The Rookie) Tim Bradford x adoptive daughter shy!reader? Tim friends wants to scare Tim so they want the shy!reader to scare Tim for fun. So Tim friends dress the reader as M3GAN and shy!reader successfully scared her adopted dad. Happy Halloween 🎃

https://youtu.be/ieXKUL2taLU?si=eishSnM88STWjqVx

Pairings: Tim Bradford x Shy!Adopted!Daughter!Reader

Warnings: fluff, caussing

Masterlist

A/N: Sooooo sorry for the delay of getting this fic out. I had planned for it to come out on Halloween but that failed and then it was supposed to come out the day after but life got in the way.

Spooky season, your favorite time of the year. You always loved October, especially Halloween. Once October 1st hit you were bringing out Halloween decorations and bringing all the fall flavored drinks out despite what your father, Tim Bradford, said. He wouldn't admit it but he loved the season mainly he loved seeing you happy. With the love of the spooky season comes the love of horror movies in and out of season. Tim never understood it but didn't question it and didn't try to make you not watch it, the only time he did was when it was too much for adults and you respected that.

You came into Tim's life unexpectedly but quickly fell in love with you. You had been a baby when you came into his life. You were found in a house where your mother had overdosed in the other room. You were crying and crying which is how John Nolan found you and picked you up. He tried soothing you with the techniques he used on his son but nothing was working. Tim walked in wondering what was going on and seeing the scene. He told Nolan to hand you over and he did instantly you stopped crying and calmed down. When CPS arrived and tried to take you, you cried and fussed it wasn't until Tim took you again and once again you settled down. It was agreed for him to take you until family could be found, none was found, a few days after that discovery and he was adopting you.

Halloween was coming up and you were thinking of what you wanted to be but was having trouble deciding. You wanted to go as a movie you recently saw but none of them were jumping out at you. There was a recent movie called M3GAN that you really wanted to see and the Mid-Wilshire Police Station just so happened to be having movie night showing this particular movie. You were excited to see it and begged your father to let you watch it after some convincing from your godmother, Angela Lopez, he finally agreed to let you watch it when they played it. When you heard that he was going to let you watch it you practically squealed and jumped up hugging him thanking him profusely. They were going to play it the night before Halloween inside the briefing room. Finally, the time for the movie night came around and you were so excited that you were buzzing with excitement and your father could tell. “I take it you're excited about this movie.” He said and you looked up at him from the backseat where you sat.

“Dad.” You said exasperated.

“What?” He asked

“Of course I'm excited to see it! I've been wanting to see when it first came out!” You said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He just smiled and chuckled even though you tended to be shy around others. You were lively with him and he was glad about that.

“Oh, I know you have.” He chuckled as he pulled into the parking lot. He had to work that night but there were going to be plenty of people he trusted with you there. He trusted the entire police station and everyone respected the hell out of him and there in turn they respected you and were at your beck and call, not that you would ask for help. But only a certain number of people he 100% trusted you with, Wade Gray, Luna Gray, Lucy Chen, John Nolan, Angela Lopez, Wesley Evers, Nyla Harper, and Jackson West. You could say he trusted Smitty too but it was more like he trusted you watching Smitty.

“You have to work right?” You asked and he nodded.

“Yea, I do. I'll be in and out but won't be able to watch the full movie with you.” He said and you nodded. You understood it and yes, we're upset but it was his job.

“Ok.” You said a little bit defeated and he hates seeing you like that especially since he worked so hard to get you to open up.

“You'll be with most of everyone else. Mainly Angela, Harper, Nolan, and Wesley.” He said and he could see you light up.

“Ok. Where is Lucy and Jackson going to be?” You said as he pulled into the parking lot of the precinct.

“They will be on patrol with me but will stop in every now and then.” He said and you nodded. He parked and then got out. He came to the driver's side back door and opened it then he started to help you out. It all went quickly, having you two already having a routine down. Once you were down, he made you stay close as you both made the trip to the building.

“Good evening, Officer Bradford and Mini Bradford.” The receptionist, Linda Hughes, said and you smiled and waved shyly.

“Good evening.” Tim said as you both made your way to the desk.

“Tim, Sergeant Gray would like a word with you before you start patrol.” She said

“Thank you.” Tim said and then the two of you were heading off to the main portion of the precinct. Along the way people said hi and you both greeted them back. You were shyer than your dad but they just smiled and went on.

“Y/N!” A voice rang out and you looked up and saw Angela heading your way and you lit up. Tim smiled seeing you light up as your godmother came closer to you.

“Aunt Angie!” You replied back, you were one of the very few and it was very few people that were allowed to call her Angie if it were anyone else, they would be on a receiving end of life ending glare.

“How's my favorite Bradford doing?” She asked

“Hey!” Tim said and she just smiled and looked at him.

“Oh, come on Timothy you knew when you had this little girl coming around after adopting her, she was going to be the favorite.” She said, they never kept it a secret that you were adopted. When you asked, they told you but it was never a secret.

“Well can't argue with that, now, can I?” He said and brought you into a side hug “She's my favorite Bradford too.” He said and you smiled and hid into his side. “Hey I need to meet with Gray for a second before starting patrol mind keeping her around you until the movie starts?” He asked.

“You know I would! Come on, My Favorite Bradford.” She said stealing you away from your dad who just rolled his eyes as he let you go to her.

“Before I leave and before the movie starts, I'll say bye to you.” He said and you nodded and he smiled “I love you.” He added.

“I love you too, Dad.” You said and then you were being whisked away by Angela to her desk where Harper, Nolan, and Wesely were at.

“The Better Bradford has arrived!” Angela said and you blushed. You knew it was a joke and you played along with it and Tim did too when he was around. There was only playfulness about it, nothing serious.

“So, Y/N have you thought of a Halloween costume?” Harper asked and you shook your head.

“No, nothing is jumping out at me.” You said with a frown.

“Hey, that's ok.” Wesley said

“Have you thought of a way to scare your dad?” Nolan asked, each year they tried to scare him but nothing had worked. It was like he was almost immune to it so you decided to help. You've tried to come up with something and so did they but nothing.

“No, literally nothing can scare that man. It's not worth trying.” You said

“Ain't that the truth.” Angela said “Come on, let's get the briefing room ready.” She added and you nodded happily. So, the 5 of you went to the briefing room to start getting set up. While doing so, joking and playing around brought laughter out of you. Very soon the room was dark, the snack table was set up in the back, coolers were set up, tables were pushed to the side and stairs were scattered. There was room for people to sit on the ground if they wanted to. Soon people started to file in. Sensing your shyness coming out Nolan brought you closer to him, almost sheltering you. When it looked like most of the room was filled with people and families of the officers, detectives, and others in the room, Gray walked in and to the front.

“Good evening, everyone. Welcome to the first family movie night. Hopefully we can continue this. I hope everyone enjoys the movie and the snacks in the back of the room.” He said and everyone cheered and then he was leaving. As the movie started Tim walked in, in uniform, he scanned the room and until he found you and smiled, he walked over to you and you looked up to see him.

“Hey.” He whispered

“Hey, Dad.” You said “You about to head out?” You asked and he nodded.

“Yup, I promised I would come to see you before I headed out. Be good for them and I’ll see you when I get off. I love you.” He said and kissed your forehead.

“I love you too. Be safe.” You said and he smiled.

“Always.” He said and then he was leaving just as the opening scenes appeared. While the interaction happened the other three adults smiled, they loved seeing Tim happy and actually smiling. He kissed the top of your head one more time and then he was turning to leave. Not long after the movie began to play.

As the movie played you became engrossed in the movie. You were so into it that you didn't even know your dad had stopped by several times to check on you and once he saw how into it you became, he didn't want to bother you. The scene where the dancing came out had you captivated, you loved dancing and were quite good at it. You could do that. Once the movie ended everyone stayed around for a few and then started leaving. When most of all people left and it was just the 4 of you Angela turned to you and you looked at her. “I know how to scare your dad.” She said and you gave her a suspicious look.

“How?” You asked wearily.

“Dress up like M3GAN and do the dance she did. You're a terrific dancer. I know you can do it.” She said but you were still unsure.

“It'll be fun and perfect.” Nolan said

“I don't know.” You said hesitantly.

“Please? We've been trying to scare you dad for years and nothing works. Please do this just this one time. We won't ask you to try and scare him again.” Wesley pleaded as you had a battle inside your head.

“Fine. I'll do it. You better get me extra candy.” You said

“We'll get you anything.” Wesley said as Angela hit him and gave him a look.

“I'll hold you to that.” You replied with a smirk.

“Ok, here is the plan.” Nolan said as he went into the plan and you listened and nodded. You gave some looks but they reassured you and promised you extra candy. Angela would be coming over early to help you get ready.

************************

Halloween finally arrived and Angela and Wesely were over as Tim was getting things ready. As she was getting you ready Lucy, Jackson, and Nolan came over. Once you were ready Angela texted Nolan to go and hit the breaker. The lights went out and you got into the position as you heard your dad start cussing along with Lucy and Jackson. “What the hell?” Tim asked.

“Did you piss off a ghost?” Lucy asked

“No, Lucy. I did not piss off a ghost. I don't know what the hell is going on.” He said as Angela called out.

“Guys! Why did the lights go out?” Angela asked as he nodded at you and made her way to the others. Once you knew she was there you got into character.

“Where’s Y/N?” He asked

“Uh I don’t know I haven’t seen her.” Angela said

“Fuck.” He said “Y/N!” He yelled out and started to move around the house. That was your cue and so you knocked off a vase. He came running and stopped. “Y/N?” He asked and so you started dancing. “What are you doing?” He asked, the look on his face was priceless but you couldn’t break character. As you were coming up on the flip part you concentrated and did and stuck the landing you did the last part and grabbed the fake knife and started to come towards your dad and he was quickly backing up. As you got to him you broke character as everyone laughed.

“Got you!” Angela said as she, Nolan, and Wesely laughed the others were not. They were truly scared.

“I’m sorry, Dad. They promised me extra candy.” You said as you put the knife down and walked over to him as he was catching his breath.

“You did good, Kid.” He said “Your costume and make-up are great.” He said

“Angela helped me with that.” You said

“Shit, you almost gave me a heart attack.” He said and you chuckled.

“I didn’t want to do it at first but hey extra candy.” You said and he chuckled.

“Can’t say no to that.” He said “Alright let’s go get candy.” He said throwing an arm around you bringing you into his side and everyone nodded.

“Alright let’s go!” Jackson said “Nice job by the way.” He added as he passed you.

“Thank you.” You said and Lucy said the same thing and you thanked her. As you headed outside and started your trick or treating you couldn’t help but smile and be thankful that Tim had brought you into his life without him you don’t know where you would be. “Thank you.” You said looking up at your father.

“For what?” He asked as he looked down at you, stopping.

“For taking me, adopting me, calling me yours, and overall being my father.” You said and he smiled.

“It was so worth it and I wouldn’t change it for the world even if you scared the shit out of me.” He said and you chuckled.

“I love you, Dad.” You said

“I love you too, Y/N/N.” He said leaning down and kissing your forehead. “Now go and get your candy.” He said giving you a little push and you chuckled and went to the first house of the night. As he watched you being polite Angela came up to him.

“You raised a great girl.” She said and he looked at her and then looked back at you making you sure you were safe.

“She’s a great girl. She’s changed a lot of our lives, especially mine.” He said

“She changed all of ours. Brought even more happiness into our lives.” Angela said as she watched you go to the next house. She patted his shoulder as she went and met up with the others as you showed them what you got. Tim smiled watching the interaction and even though you did scare the shit out of him he was so happy to have you in his life. He wouldn’t change it for anything.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@twistersmaverick

@callsign-revenge

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geekgirl101 · 3 days ago

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More 8x06 thoughts. Still processing

I've been trying to express my feelings about 8x06 on paper, and there's still so much swirling in my head. So apologies if this is too long and ranty.

The GA isn't happy for a lot of reasons. One was that Tommy did fit with the 118, he was friends with Eddie and Chim. Two: they were happy Buck was in a relationship, and it seemed like (at least in season 7) that he was finally off the hamster wheel. And they like Eddie and Buck's friendship and don't want to see them together. After all the BS takes I've seen from you-know-whos, I can't say I disagree at all.

It's like neither Buck nor the writers have learned anything from past love interests. Tommy is the one with the most potential because of how well he fits, and he clearly has a lot of abandonment issues. Hey, so does Buck. That could have been a great point to explore.

I don't think Buck needs to sleep around to explore himself. But I do think Buck never fully processed anything.

It's wild that Buck and Tommy dated for six months and NEVER had any real conversations about exes? Tommy does strike me as the kind of person who keeps people at arm's length, who maybe doesn't say much about his past unless he has to. He could have also held back because he was letting Buck set the pace. I know Tommy isn't a main character. But they could have done so much more with this and with him. Hopefully its not the end.

The show also did nothing to show Buck's growth in a relationship, aside from the fact that he kissed a boy and liked it.

8x01 showed us that Buck was competent, professional, and mature, and stupidly I was hoping that would extend to his relationship too.

I think Buck has to figure out what he wants out of a relationship, I hope we see more of Buck talking to Josh or Hen and then he and Tommy work on making a relationship that's lasting, honest, and full of love (if we're grudging up Abby, we can continue the red string here and make that nod too)

What also bothers me is they took 3 episodes to build Buck and Tommy and show us that they have chemistry and that Tommy shows up for Buck, they had two more moments where it was clear they were getting to know each other and were solid in season 7.

And then it took them 1 episode to tear it all down without ever showing Buck showing up for Tommy. They were supposed to be getting to know each other. But six months in, it's like they didn't even know each other at all... or actually. It's like Buck didn't know Tommy at all.

I find it frustrating that we got to see so little of them, and most of it was Tommy doing things for Buck, showing up for Buck, complementing Buck, and taking care of Buck. A relationship has to be a two-way street. You show up for me, I show up for you.

And I'm glad Tommy showed up for Buck. Buck deserves love. But so does Tommy. Tommy was clearly looking for love, IDk if he was looking for a family or anything long term. Maybe he was dealing with a bad breakup and Buck was adorable, and he thought, maybe this could be a thing for now, but he ended up falling for him, clearly, and panicked. But I think on some level he was looking for someone to show up for him too, even when things got hard. And maybe this is foreshadowing. I hope it is. But I refuse to get my hopes up about it, or about Buck's love life ever again.

#911 abc #bucktommy #tevan #tommy kinard #evan buckley #bvddie shippers DNI #thanks for reading

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madbard · 3 days ago

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“Ford is irredeemably self-centered” this, “Ford’s a bad person” that, etc…

Alright. Tell me then.

What was he supposed to do?!?!

Be a better brother? Ford loved Stan! When they were children, Ford took care of his brother as best he could. But Ford was also a kid in a bad situation, and there were limits to what he could do. Not to mention that Stan relied so heavily on Ford that it honestly wasn’t healthy for either of them. Stan couldn’t stand by himself and he wasn’t trying. They were both struggling; maybe pin that on the parents instead of the kids.

Not be angry at Stan for messing with his experiment? Of course Ford was angry! This was his dream college; in that moment he thought his entire future was crumbling. I assure you, if my sibling had ruined my chances of getting into my dream school I would have been more than a little upset, and I’m sure the same goes for most of the people reading this. Of course, Ford did hold onto that anger for considerably longer than was justified, but in this case I would argue that Ford less “held a grudge for 10 years out of spite” and more “never got the chance to make things right with his brother and held onto that anger because it was better than the nauseating guilt over that final argument, the uncertainty at times that his brother was even alive.” (Which is not to say that Ford isn’t spiteful. Our man has plenty of spite. But him being spiteful is not the only thing going on here.) Which brings us to our next point.

Stop Stan from being kicked out? How?! That household does not appear to have been a safe place for either of the brothers. Should Ford have gotten himself kicked out too? Should he have known exactly what to say to talk his father down - the man who just violently threw his twin out of the house? Ford didn’t kick Stan out. He just wasn’t able to stop it from happening, and that’s not something any teen should be blamed for.

Behave himself when reuniting with Stan at the culmination of the worst period of his life thus far? There’s stress. And then there’s being dangerously sleep-deprived and at the mercy of a horrifying demon that betrayed you, leaving you alone in a shack in the woods with no one to call for help except your estranged brother, who’s complaining about a mullet, of all things. Yeah, I’m not going to say Ford’s behavior was anything other than atrocious here. But really. How well would you handle that?

Thanked his brother? Stan could have destroyed the universe; it makes sense that Ford’s upset! He’s also had literally decades to stew in the terror and fury he experienced in those last moments before falling through the portal (something which almost certainly would not have happened if it weren’t for Stan). Again, Ford’s not acting like the world’s best brother here, but it’s understandable.

Ford’s not perfect. He can be arrogant, spiteful, and bitter. He makes serious mistakes (often due to his own hubris) that put himself, his loved ones, and sometimes the entire universe in grave peril. Ford is, in fact, deeply flawed. That’s part of what makes him a fun character! It’s also what makes him a well-written and believable character. Yes, Ford acts like a jerk. He does so quite often.

Ford also spends nearly the entire narrative bouncing from one deeply toxic situation to another, desperately trying to survive and make life better for himself and his family and watching as his brother makes mistake after mistake - sometimes making choices with severe, negative consequences on Ford’s own life.

Ford is doing the best he can. He’d not a bad person. He tries to be good. He tries to do the right thing.

He just fails sometimes.

Don’t we all?

#say it with me #Ford. Is Not. A Bad. Person.#He’s Doing. The Best. He Can.#And The Narrative. Is Dealing Him. An Unbelievably. Shitty. Hand.#anyway don’t come after Ford y’all #i will die on this hill #(and don’t come after Mabel either that’s an entirely different post and hill I will die on)#actually let’s be kind to the entire Pines family #I love them #they’re great #and so well written #wow this post is a bit agressive uh…#sorry but the Ford hate makes me irrationally upset #and I might be overcorrecting a bit because the intention was not to excuse Ford’s behavior at every junction #just. he screwed up. he did. but I understand his choices at every junction? so I find it hard to be angry at him?#gravity falls analysis #gravity falls #stanford pines #gravity falls stanford #grunkle ford #ford pines #gravity falls ford #wow lots of tags um…#sorry im new to the fandom and still figuring out which fandom tags to use #madbard rambles

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syoish-aot · 2 days ago

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"I Found You (too)" - EREN/READER - REINCARNATION AU (chapter 6)

eren/reader

Rating: M

2020s reincarnation of marleyan nurse reader & undercover eren

4k words

also on Ao3

<- chapter 5

*A Warm Living Room*

Jean resented the word “babysitting”.

Connie said: “I mean that’s basically what it is though, right?”

And Sasha- well… actually Sasha didn’t really say much of anything. Her face was too full of french fries when Eren asked them to do it.

Regardless of their feelings on the matter, after Eren called them to cash in a favor they all end up there:

Alone. In your apartment. With only you because Eren was running out of excuses to give his boss and he was going to get his ass fired if he called in sick one more time.

“Don’t stress too much about it,” Armin had told him on the phone the night before. “If anything, getting back into your old routine might help her remember things.”

“Yeah but… I still feel weird leaving her alone. What if something happens?”

There was a muffled sound from the other side of the phone before Armin was back: “Jean said he could come over and keep an eye on her.”

Eren could barely make out Jean’s defiant: “I DID NOT!” from the other end of the phone.

“Oh, and he just told me Connie and Sasha could help too!” Armin added.

Jean awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. “I feel like a phone call would have worked fine…” he mumbled. Jean knew you were his friend, a version of you anyway, but that version was tucked away in your subconscious with the current version leaving a lot to be desired.

Especially with how you were staring at him.

“What?” Jean’s glare caused you to jump before looking back to your lap.

‘Good riddance,’ he thought as a proud smirk spread across his face.

“Play nice,” Sasha ordered, slapping him on the back of the head as she crawled over the back of the couch to join the two of you in the living room. “Soooooo…” she started.“What do you like to do for fun?”

“I like to read,” you answered.

Connie snorted. “Fuckin’ nerd,” he mumbled.

Your head tilted curiously to the side as you looked at him. Obvious confusion was plastered across your face.

Connie was only half paying attention to what was going on, slumped in the loveseat and more absorbed in his phone game than anything. At least, until he realized what he had said and his eyebrows rose. He immediately sat up straight, his phone falling to his lap. “Sorry! Normally you’d- uh call me a dumbass back or- um-...”

Your eyebrows tightened together. “Mr. Kruger said we were friends.”

“We are friends.”

“But… I’m mean to you?”

“That’s-... oh boy…” Connie sighed. “You really are different.”

You scowled into your lap. “...everyone keeps saying that…”

“ ‘s not a bad thing that you’re normally different,” Jean mumbled. “The old you seems kinda...” he vaguely waved his hand as if you were supposed to know what he was saying.

And you supposed you did: “Marleyan?” you finished for him.

“Woah there!” Sasha quickly jumped in. “You being Marleyan doesn’t have anything to do with it! My fiancé is Marleyan and I’m Eldian or at least- we used to be. Technically Marley and Eldia don’t really exist here but-”

“You’re engaged to a Marleyan!?” you exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise.

“Uh-... yeah,” Sasha answered, “have been for a while. We’re doing that whole ‘long-term engagement’ thing.”

“And you tell people that?”

“I mean I do,” Sasha said. “Nico’s kinda embarrassed about the fact that the economy is in shambles and it’ll be a while before we can afford a wed-”

“No not about that!” you interrupted, “about… about you being in love!”

“Huh?” Sasha seemed confused. “Oh- yeah! Yeah, we tell everyone.”

“It’s kinda gross, actually,” Connie said.

“You’re just jealous,” Sasha stuck out her tongue.

“Ew gross! If anything I feel sorry for Niccolo having to kiss your burger breath all the time.”

“Hmm… bold of you to assume he doesn’t have a food kink.”

Connie threw his head back with a loud laugh. “Oh my god he totally has a food kink!” he clutched his stomach through his laughter, almost falling out of his chair as he did so. “Sash, you're nasty! Is he into that feeder thing too!?”

“Even if he was I-”

“Guys please shut up,” Jean cut them off. “You’re traumatizing her.”

Connie and Sasha looked over at you. You’d gotten quiet (which would have been weird under normal circumstances, but they were starting to realize that silence was pretty typical for your old self).

“No I-” you stuttered, “sorry. I was just… thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” Sasha asked.

“I-” your cheeks flushed pink. “Wh- Where I’m from an Eldian and Marlyan can’t-... a-and even if they did they would… well…”

“We know,” Jean told you. For the first time, there was an undertone of concern in his voice. Like a part of him cared about you. Or at least some version of you.

Of course, that concern was quickly washed away as your eyes met his and he went back to scowling.

You looked back at Sasha and Connie (they were a lot nicer). “Well if you know that then maybe you also know that I-... I um…” Your cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. “I’ve never said it out loud before but-...”

You squirmed against your seat, suddenly unsure if you should keep your hands in your lap. No, the armrests! No wait next to you! No, that looked awkward!!

“I think she’s gonna hurt herself,” Connie whispered to Sasha.

“Yeah, she looks like she’s about to have an aneurism,” Sasha mumbled back just in time for you to blurt it out:

“I-I’m in love with Mr. Kruger!!”

Your cheeks burned deep crimson as you clenched your hands in your lap, tightly gripping your skirt while your shoulders trembled.

You couldn’t believe you had just admitted it! You’d said it, out loud, to someone that wasn’t him!! This place was so amazing, if you were allowed to admit that then you really, truly never wanted to leave!

Jean sighed. “Yeah everyone fucking knows that.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. “E-Even Mr. Kruger!?”

“Oh my god...” Jean rubbed his hands over his face with a loud groan. “Yes. Mr. Kruger,” he said in a mocking tone, “is very very aware that you’re hot for him.”

“A-And… how does he um-... how does he feel about… me?”

Jean groaned again as he leaned back in his chair.

You turned your attention to Sasha and Connie instead, eyes begging them for reassurance.

Instead of offering you any, they both held back their laughter:

“...this is so fucking priceless...” Connie snickered.

“...wish I had this on camera…” Sasha agreed.

You scowled as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I don’t get what’s so funny about someone having feelings for another person! No one was laughing at you when you were talking about your- your- your feeder kink fiancé!!!”

Whatever that meant (and honestly you had no idea) it must have been pretty funny because Connie started laughing so hard that he fell out of his chair. Sasha clutched her stomach yelling “My abs! My abs stop! They hurt!!” Even Jean, who seemed to hate your guts, let out a loud bark of a laugh.

You still weren’t sure what you said, but you knew their reactions.

Part of you did, anyway.

And that same part encouraged you to join in on their, strangely familiar, laughter.

So you did.

You laughed with them. You laughed with your friends over a joke you didn’t really understand.

You’d never laughed like that before.

*An Office Downtown*

Eren was pulled from his computer screen daze as Armin placed a coffee on his desk.

“You’ve been glaring at your computer all day,” his best friend pointed out.

“Sorry,” Eren sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “Just catching up on emails. Buncha bullshit piled up.”

“Then how about you actually take your lunch today and give yourself a break?” Armin asked. Eren was notorious for getting sucked into something and forgetting to eat, which is why he’d spent the entire morning in complete silence glued to his computer. Thankfully, working at the same company as his best friend meant that he normally had someone looking out for him.

Eren glanced back at his monitor and a half-written email stared back at him. Then he looked down at the coffee Armin had brought over.

He reached for it. “A break sounds good.”

They ended up circling the small park next to their office building, enjoying the sunshine while it lasted before sitting down by the fountain in the middle of the park where they usually ate lunch together (on the days Eren remembered to do so, of course).

It didn’t take Armin long to get to the elephant in the room:

“Still no luck getting her to remember?” he asked.

Eren sighed, knowing that this question was coming. “Nothing,” he answered, immediately running his fingers through his hair. “It’s been a week and she hasn’t remembered a single thing. What if she never does? What do we do if she’s just stuck like this and-”

“Eren, don’t worry about it,” Armin cut him off, “sometimes it takes a little longer.”

“But a full week?”

“Yeah. That’s not unheard of,” Armin shrugged.

Eren let out a short sigh as he picked at the lid of his empty coffee cup. The past week had been… rough, to say the least.

He’d kept trying to maintain an air of normalcy, but that was growing increasingly more difficult every time you looked up at him in wide-eyed amazement over something in the modern world, or smiled at him like he’d hung the fucking moon, or every single time you called him Mr. Kruger.

It was never Eren.

Always Mr. Kruger.

And every time you said it, it felt like a punch in the gut.

“Eren?” Armin asked, sensing his best friend’s apprehension.

“I just-” Eren dropped his hands with a sign. “I just miss her so fucking much,” he said, “she’s right next to me but it’s not her and I-...” he drifted off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

“I know, Eren. We all get it. It’s hard waiting for things to go back to the way they were.”

Eren scoffed. “It’s not going to though.”

“Of course it will.”

Eren didn’t reply. Instead, he stared down at his coffee cup and ran his thumb against the light brown stain on the white lid.

“This is how it always happens,” Armin said. “Every time someone wakes up it’s hard for a few days, but once their minds catch up with them things have a way of working out.”

“‘Working out’ and going ‘back to the way it was’ are two different things,” Eren pointed out.

“I-- yeah,” Armin sighed, “you’re right, but sometimes ‘working out’ is better. Don’t you think?”

Eren’s hold on his cup tightened, causing the thin paper to crinkle as the lid almost popped off.

Armin continued: “Remembering everything that happened back then made all of us cherish this life so much more. All the bad stuff from the past doesn’t-”

“Don’t you dare tell me it doesn’t matter, Armin!” Eren exclaimed as the lid to his coffee popped off and fell to the pavement below them.

Armin remained silent at his friend’s outburst.

“I’m sorry but it just-- it can’t not matter,” Eren said. “Just because we’ve been given a chance to try again doesn’t mean that what we did before doesn’t count for anything!”

A silence hung over them again.

Eren stared down at his empty cup. He noted how light it felt, the way it crinkled against his hold. The way it felt to dig his nails into the white paper.

A paper cup with coffee stains.

A paper cup with three pills.The green one discreetly slipped into a pocket before anyone could notice.

Armin captured Eren’s attention with the soft calling of his name:

“Eren?”

Eren was scared to look up, so he didn't.

“Who was she?” Armin asked.

It was the question Eren had been avoiding. The same question he couldn’t answer. Not to the rest of his friends. Not to Armin.

Not to you.

“Whatever happened to the two of you in your first lives,” Armin told him, “no matter how- no matter how terrible it was, this is our chance to try again. Everyone who’s woken up understands that.” Armin reached out to place his hand on Eren’s, giving it a soft squeeze. “...and she will too.”

Eren pulled away. He tossed the coffee cup into the trash can and shoved his hands into his pockets.

He didn't want Armin to feel the way they trembled.

The way they shook.

The way his fingers twitched with nervous hesitation as Armin’s words repeated in his head.

But more importantly, he didn't want to look at them for himself.

At his hands.

Eren wanted to cut them clean off, even now that he couldn’t regenerate. Especially now that he couldn’t regenerate.

He wanted to cut them off and make them pay for their crimes.

*A Warm Living Room*

Pandemonium had broken out in the time Eren had been gone, and that fact became immediately obvious as he stepped back into his apartment.

“Connie if you don't fucking back me up here I'm going to chop your balls off in your sleep!!!”

“Fuck you, Jean! What do you want me to do!? It's completely chance!”

“It is not chance!! It depends on when you push the button!”

“NO IT DOES FUCKING NOT!!”

“Okay then push it now! Push it right fucking now I dare you! You won't do it because it's not completely cha-”

“Oh look I won!” The third voice wasn't Connie, Jean, or even Sasha.

The third voice was you.

Everyone burst out into excited screams:

“HOLY SHIT!!! HOW DID THAT JUST HAPPEN!!” Sasha exclaimed.

“IT'S NOT CHANCE I TOLD YOU IT'S NOT FUCKING CHANCE!!!” Jean shouted, immediately followed by Connie’s loud:

“FUCK MY ASS OFF DUDE HOW ARE YOU STILL THE MARIO PARTY CHAMPION!?!?”

Eren tucked his shoes into the closet and Bitcoin stumbled out of the living room. He hobbled over to his dad and rubbed against Eren's leg before he began loudly meowing for his dinner. Eren leaned down to pick him up and walked into the living room, towards the commotion.

“Guys we have neighbours you know,” he sighed, “can you please keep it down?”

Everyone looked over at him as he entered the room.

Jean and Sasha were on the couch as Connie took up the loveseat. Despite how there was more than enough room for you to sit on the couch too, you were in front of the coffee table, much too close to the TV for it to be doing anything good to your eyes.

You clutched your GameCube controller in one hand as you smiled at him. “Look Mr. Kruger, I won!” You told him, pointing at the TV where Princess Daisy stood in front of the flashing lights and banner that declared:

You are the DREAM STAR!!

Apparently god given Mario Party 5 skills trumped even reincarnation.

Who knew?

Eren chuckled with a smile. “Good job ba-” he stopped himself before the pet name came out. “Good uh-” he cleared his throat, “good job.”

You smiled.

His stomach flipped, just like it always did.

*A Cozy Bedroom*

“Connie and Sasha told me something,” you told Mr. Kruger that night as you crawled into bed.

Mr. Kruger always came to make sure you were all set before falling asleep. He’d turn the lights off for you, check that the cats were comfortable (although the old brown one was the only one that would actually stay in the bedroom overnight) and then he’d tell you goodnight before leaving.

It was the exact opposite of the real world, but given the way everything else in this somewhere nice was the opposite, you figured it made sense.

“What did they tell you?” Mr. Kruger asked, placing a glass of water on your bedside table, just like he did every night.

“They said um-...” You looked down at your hands, curling the blanket in your lap against your fingers. “They said that Eldians and Marleyans didn’t really exist here.”

“They don’t,” Mr. Kruger confirmed as he sat down on the end of the bed.

“Sasha also told me that she has a fiancé who’s Marleyan.”

“She does.”

Eren watched you stare down at your lap as you avoided his eyes. He noticed your cheeks turn pink in a way he’d never seen on this version of you.

The old you.

The old you had two modes, and he’d gotten familiar with them after the months he spent with you in Liberio. You were either spaced out, completely gone as your body moved in robot mode to complete whatever task needed to be done, or you were fake.

Smiling.

Cheery.

Putting up a performance that, in the past, made his blood boil to watch.

Right now though- with your slightly flushed cheeks, the subtle smile that slowly spread across your face, and the way you eventually looked up at him- right now you looked like the version he was used to.

The version he met here. The version he fell in love with without any memory of what had happened in the past.

Who he’d been in the past.

“Is that allowed here then?” you asked, making Eren’s heart feel like it might beat right out of his chest.

Eren cleared his throat. “I--Is what allowed here?”

Your reply came out after a moment of hesitation. Softly, as if you were nervous about how he would answer: “Are an Eldian and Marleyan allowed to be together…?”

Suddenly, the two of you were in dangerous territory.

Suddenly the same feeling of impending doom washed over Eren, just like it had when Armin asked: ‘who was she?’

It was all he could see. It was all he could feel-

The grinding of stone. Fire. Screaming. The roar of his titan. The zipping of lines. And a body lifeless against the battered streets.

At some point, he’d sat down on the bed.

At some point, you’d leaned closer.

At some point, you’d looked back down at your lap. Down at your hands before you took a short breath.

Before your hand slid across the covers and hesitated, just a fraction of a centimetre from his.

It was all so familiar but so different at the same time.

The way you paused. The way the bed dipped between the two of you. The way Eren could feel the warmth radiating from your fingers, even though they weren’t touching his.

But the sheets below you were dark green, not white, and the walls were covered in framed photos, not completely bare.

So it was different, and he tried so hard to focus on how it was different but---

But it all felt so familiar.

So familiar that he got lost in it for a moment. So familiar that when your hand finally moved closer to his, brushing so gently against his pinky finger- Eren jumped.

“Is…” you whispered, “...is this allowed?”

Your finger brushed against his, just your finger, so hesitantly that you could easily have pretended it hadn't happened if you wanted to.

But Eren didn’t want to pretend it hadn’t happened. The moment you touched him finally actually touched him, lit a fire in the pit of his stomach as his heart pounded.

“It’s-- It’s allowed…” he slowly answered, so softly that if there had been any other noise in the room at all you might have missed it.

His finger hooked against yours, body moving completely on its own as if it was instinct.

And it was.

At this point, it was instinct.

Eren could hear his heart beating in his ears at the simple sensation of your finger pressed against his. He’d touched you so many times (you’d been dating for six years, so obviously he had) but it had never felt like this.

It had never felt so intense…

He didn't know at what point your fingers had curled together.

He had no idea how long it took until he looked over at you.

And he surely couldn't recall when you'd looked back at him, but all of a sudden you had.

All of a sudden the two of you were sitting there in that bed with that wall and your hand in his.

And it was just like Liberio.

“Don't go tonight,” he'd said as his fingers curled, for the first time, around yours. You were touching him. Not to change a bandage, or give him his medicine, or check his heart rate. You were touching him all on your own for the first time.

“Why wouldn't I go to the festival?” You laughed with a smile. A smile so wide and genuine that Eren wanted to bottle it up and keep it forever. “It sounds fun.”

“Please,” Eren begged. Before he could stop himself, he'd lifted his hand to cup your cheek.

He was touching you. He was touching you and not because you were changing his shirt, or passing him a tart, or helping him hobble across his hospital room. He was touching you all on his own.

His thumb brushed against your cheek. Your warm cheek, as the image of your bloody body, discarded against the cobblestone, flashed through his mind.

No. No no no no no please no.

“Mr. Kruger I-”

You were just as close right now as you had been then. Looking up at him with the same eyes, the warmth of your palm against him in the same way.

Except it wasn't the same, right? It was different now.

He was different now. He was Eren, not Mr. Kruger.

In a different life under different circumstances with a different path in front of him.

You were safe here, finally, where there wasn’t fire or rubble or cobblestone. Here, where nothing bad could happen to you.

Eren's hand cupped your cheek and the two of you moved closer. It was warmer here. It was better.

He was better. He was Eren, not Mr. Kruger.

“Is… Is this allowed...” your breath ghosted across his lips as you asked it again.

Eren's eyes slid closed as he nodded. He leaned in, craving your kiss so badly that it almost hur-

“...Mr. Kruger?”

Until you finished your sentence and Eren’s world completely shattered.

Mr. Kruger.

Right.

That’s who he was to you right now. He wasn’t Eren, he was Mr. Kruger.

“She’ll do it.” “Oh good, your dog can do more than just fetch.”

“She's distracting you, Eren.” “No, she's not.”

“Then kill her.”

Eren’s palms grew damp with nervous sweat. His stomach turned. His heartbeat rang in his ears, this time for a different reason entirely.

Mr. Kruger Mr. Kruger Mr. Kruger

That’s who he was to you.

Mr. Kruger

Eren pulled away from you, trying not to watch your heartbroken expression as he pushed out of bed. “H-Have a good night,” he stuttered before he left the room.

He didn’t turn back to look at you. He couldn’t.

He was worried that if he did, all he’d see would be-

Fire and screaming. The roar of his titan. The zipping of lines. And a body- your body -lifeless against the battered streets.

Eren didn’t want to look back because if he did, he’d remember who he was to you.

Mr. Kruger

The man who had manipulated you into loving him.

*Libero* 854

“Good morning Mr. Kruger!” Three days into his undercover mission and it had quickly become one of his least favourite sounds.

Eren groaned as he sat up.

Headache. Pills. Wate-

“I snuck you an extra apple,” you told him with a wide smile, holding up the crisp red fruit just for him. He wanted to deny it and tell you he didn’t need your pity, but his rumbling stomach betrayed him and he reached for the apple anyway.

You laughed. “Don’t tell anyone or they’ll accuse me of picking favourites.”

Juice dribbled down his chin as he bit into the apple.

He looked over at you as he chewed.

It was a good apple.

Crisp. Fresh. Sweet.

It was a good apple.

And the way your eyes light up- with so much hope and joy, like a dog waiting to be praised- it was-

It was pathetic.

Pathetic how eager you were to please.

…he could use that…

TAG LIST: (like this post to be added or unlike it to be removed)

@xngelsau @f4irygard3n @vlsquuu @fvckingeetar @shmaptainbonky @maluvilela @gojojang @merrygo14 @ebubeu @janneeeexdxc @yn7877 @misshale21 @dracucil @venus1224idkpleaze @decadentprunepersonadragon @magictrump @kooromin @ilovemollyweasley @azulaenthusiast @dattebakay @suagxsugax @sky-full-of-magic @longestline @skoll1897 @hayleighloatx @datshittuebrat @br0ken-g1rl @tbzzluvr @jaeg3rb0mb @ratkidcalledallie @sieihebendh @lcve1yk3nz1e @marklover142717 @areenaa @luvs4kim @anything4yoongi @misavxz @dumdxm @pink-apples001

#eren x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren yaeger x reader #aot x reader #my post #my writing #i found you too

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songbiirdss · 18 hours ago

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Part 1 of my first chapter of Stages

Chapters will update on Fridays ✨🫶 Enjoy!!

Jason seemed smaller in his arms now. Bruce had hugged him just days ago. How was he so small? Agony ripped through him, this was more than a fight with Dick, this was more than a spat about birth mothers. This was permanent, this was an ending that came far too soon.

Bruce didn't know how long he sat in the rubble and smoke. His throat burned with the dry smoke he kept inhaling. A fine layer of snow was falling all around them, he wiped Jason’s face down with a clean part of his cape, hoping and praying this was some kind of sick joke, that this was a horrible nightmare.

But his son didn't move, didn’t push him away, didn’t react at all.

He lifted Jason’s tiny body up carefully, oh so carefully. His blood was already coagulated and the cold had already made Jason’s body so stiff. He didn’t dare think about how he would explain this to the public, how people would see Bruce Wayne.

He tugged his son close, he needed to get him away and safe. God’s above, Bruce was a curse on all he loved.

Bruce didn’t know how he got back to the jet, he didn't know how he made the call to Alfred who called Dick back to Earth. He knew that the autopilot took him back to Gotham in what could have been record time - just under 16 hours, cleaning his son’s dead body, putting him into his favorite pajamas, tucking him into the small cot where he thought Bruce wouldn't find the Wonder Woman stickers on the bottom side of the top bunk.

Jason looked like he could have been asleep like this, but his face was too pale, his chest was unmoving, his face far too still.

He didn’t stop crying, he didn’t sleep. He had changed at some point, hating his own suit so much that the sight of it made him sick.

He didn’t realize he was in the cave until Alfred pulled him into a hug.

“I lost him, I lost him Al.” Bruce cried, holding Alfred close. His only parent left, smoothing back his hair, wiping away his tears.

“Shh, Bruce, this is not your fault son.” Alfred hugged him tighter. “We have to take care of this now though, come, Dick just arrived home, he needs you. Miss Gordon will be coming later tonight.”

Fear raced through him, he was no father, he didn’t know how to console Dick. He could barely console himself. Barbra was a whole different story, he didn’t know if he could face her.

“Master Bruce, I can hear you thinking, go see your son,” Alfred said in his ‘do what I say voice.’ “I will take care of Master Jason.” Alfred pushed him out the door onto the hard concrete. Dick was there, teary eyed.

“Tell me this is a sick joke, B.” He was in civilian clothes, hair messy and unclean. h

He had grown some since Bruce last saw him.

Bruce could only shake his head, catching Dick as he collapsed into his arms. He had to remember that Dick was just barely into adulthood as well. Two orphans who knew loss like their own reflections.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Dick held onto Bruce’s shirt, “What happened Bruce?” He pulled back, searching his sons eyes.

“Joker got him, a bomb, oh Jason…” He wailed, he didn’t remember the last time he had cried so hard. When his parents died he, well he blocked much of the weeks that had passed from his memory. He knew in his heart that he must have cried, but he also knew his parents were always going to leave him first, that was the way of life.

This, no this thing that happened, this was never supposed to happen.

He knew the people they fought were monsters, but none of them ever hit Jason as hard, they never tried to kill the kid before. Sure they were probably holding back because of some kind of overconfidence, but there was never a sense that they wanted to kill the kid. They shot at Batman, not at Robin.

Maybe Bruce was delusional, maybe he never saw the signs.

They stood after a moment, Bruce wiping his son’s tears. He would not mess this up again, he would not let Dick leave his sight, at least not for now. Dick walked to the jet where Alfred was carrying Jason’s wrapped body down to the ground floor.

He was shaking as he reached for the blanket covering Jason’s body.

“Son- Dick, you don’t have to see him like this,” Bruce said, hand on Dick’s shoulder. That Dick didn’t push him away or scream that he wasn’t Bruce’s son was some relief. He was just glad Dick had shown up.He knew the boys had a rocky relationship to say the least, but having him here was a comfort for his racing mind.

“No I- I have to see him,” Dick said pulling back the blanket to find that too small frame unmoving, unsmiling.

“God-“ He choked out before covering the boy once again, turning to leave the cave, “I can’t - I can’t be down here right now.” He all but ran up the stairs.

Bruce turned to Alfred, whose grief was written all over his face.

“I already called Leslie, she will preform the autopsy. I have also told the press that there was a car accident and that you were severely injured - you will be free from press duty for the next 3 months.” Alfred said, patting his shoulder. The man was so much shorter than him, yet Bruce always felt so small in his presence.

“I failed him, Alfred. What do I do?”

“We will figure it out together son.”

#batfam #batfam fanfic #batman #jason todd robin #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #tim drake #barbara gordon #batfam angst #angst fic #it will have a happy ending i pinky promise #just sad rn

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vidavalor · 10 hours ago

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Thanks for reading, @simonezitrone79 💕 If, by a mask, you mean that you think Aziraphale is faking something because he has a plan, we'll have to see what happens but I am afraid that I disagree. I mean, in the long run, Aziraphale has chosen wisely because he has chosen Crowley and good people overall, but people can sometimes make the wrong choices in the moment for the right reasons and I think that's what is happening in The Final 15.

Aziraphale is lovely and smart and a good judge of character but everyone has blind spots and those blind spots are usually driven by past trauma. I think that's kind of a lot of what's happening in S2, as it also is in Crowley's story and his self-doubt causing him to trust only Beez's take on The Book of Life and to not be able to fully see the big picture with Gabriel for most of S2. I do not think that Aziraphale has a secret plan in the elevator. I think we see the ups and downs of this stuff a bit in S2-- 1941, Part 2 is a story of having a win but The Final 15 is one of a loss.

It's only a loss because both Crowley and Aziraphale are having trouble talking about their frozen peas when they are usually better at such things. As such, they both fall victim to their own blindspots and can't see or hear one enough to recognize what's really happening and help each other through the way they usually do.

Aziraphale's blind spot is that he'll sometimes trust the wrong person for the right reasons. He is only really prone to being able to be manipulated-- and to manipulating himself-- when the situation is around a part of Aziraphale's life where he feels that he's not good enough. He is good enough but he doesn't let himself believe that.

He once wound up held at gunpoint in a church by Nazis to whom he had given several of his most beloved, priceless books out of a sense that he wasn't doing enough to help the Allied Forces win the war. It's that 1941 scene that The Final 15 is mirroring in a lot of places and I think it's for similar reasons that Aziraphale goes with who he believes is The Metatron.

It's not for the world this time, the way it was with Rose/Greta in 1941-- it's for Crowley. Aziraphale was a hard pass on going to Heaven until he was tempted with the idea of eternal safety for Crowley. It's not a genuine offer-- it would collapse Heaven & Hell if even one demon were to be restored as an angel-- but it's an offer Aziraphale feels he can't refuse because to do so would be to reject something that he thinks could keep Crowley safe.

He's taken the wrong path with this because he is letting their abusers dictate the parameters of their life but it's understandable how he got to this point. It's not easy watching someone suffer for years upon years the way he has with Crowley. He wants to be able to offer Crowley the safety and peace that he doesn't think he can give him, even as Crowley is trying to tell him that the only safety and peace he knows is with Aziraphale and that's all he needs. It's Aziraphale not allowing himself to accept that he is good enough as he is and it will, quite literally, be the death of him. That's the "going to Heaven" and going into the light of the elevator to me-- it's a fall, it's a death.

Gabriel could have gone all the way down this path himself but he didn't to have a contrasting story to Aziraphale. Gabriel's issues are, at the core, the same as Aziraphale's. They are both excessively self-sacrificing and struggle with being told that they exist to serve God and others and so are not to claim any resources for themselves. They are supposed to be above all of it and they both know that's bullshit but they've been stuck trying to figure out a path forward. It's not a matter of access to resources as to which one of them survived it in S2 because they both found what they needed.

It's a matter of who shut people out and who let people in.

People can go up and down with this. Gabriel spent thousands of years too afraid to trust-- and for understandable reasons, considering the culture of Heaven. It's only when he is open with trusted friends who see him as a person that he starts to heal. Aziraphale is often open with Crowley and that has saved him for a long time. One of the loveliest moments in the series is an example of that in 1941, Part 2, when Aziraphale expresses his hesitation to go to Goldstone's-- to do the human things he loves and wants to do. Aziraphale has been doing those things for thousands of years but he still has conflict over them. Crowley recognizes that struggle in Aziraphale and he was able to help him in 1941 because Aziraphale let him. In the present of S2, though? The opposite is happening.

In the present of S2, Aziraphale ultimately shuts Crowley out. It's not just Crowley he shuts out-- Aziraphale also ignores any lessons he could be taking from Gabriel and Beez. He does so because he's blinded by his negative self-thoughts-- the darkness/demons have overrun his bookshop. It doesn't mean it's permanent but I think that's the plot more than that it is that he gets into the elevator with a plan. His smile over the closing credits is a miserable kind of madness. Is he ultimately going to help burn it all down? Oh, yeah. But, in the short term, he's completely fucked.

The angel with the huge heart that helps everyone else seems too lovely to fall but he is falling because, while he's the first person to help others in need, he goes through periods where he doesn't acknowledge that he's a person in his own right as well. He thinks he should be above being a person but he also knows he is one. Some days, he can fight it and some days, he loses the battle. It is kind of the ultimate in human stories, eh?

All of Bedford Falls is going to need to save George Bailey here.

Playing with Fire

Armageddon: The end of the world.

World: The Earth. Also: a person's own universe-- the life of an individual and the people they let into that life.

With that in mind...

Armageddon: The destruction of Earth and the deaths of all living beings inhabiting it. Also: a person's mental health crisis.

"When alle is fayed and all is done, ye must choose your faces wisely for soon enouff, ye will be playing with fyre." -Agnes Nutter's final prophecy of Armageddon and a big theme of the story in a nutshell.

Faces: The front portion of the head of a human or an animal.

Also: to confront and deal with a difficult or unpleasant task or situation.

Also: the front of a building, including its front door.

Agnes Nutter's prophecy is not just about the destruction of Earth but about the everyday Armageddon of people's lives. Soon enough, we all will eventually find ourselves playing with fire-- in dark times and in the danger zone of falling. We all wind up there at some point and we need help either staving off a fall or getting back up from one.

The only way out of that is to choose our faces wisely. It's to choose to trust the people who show us they are worthy of that trust and to let them in enough to help with safety and support.

It's to form a mutual aid association and face the world together as a group. That's the only way to move through the dark stuff to keep it from getting you-- to go as one, together.

In S2, Gabriel survives by doing exactly this to the letter, even though he doesn't know Agnes' prophecy. He is the positive example of this theme in action.

Gabriel chooses his faces wisely. He is unconcerned with how a person is labeled or judged by others and, so, trusts two demons in Crowley and Beez to help him, and enjoys joining the human world as a bookseller. He puts his fate in the hands of Aziraphale, the only angel he has seen with the good heart and moral character to be fully trustworthy.

He isn't bothered or intimidated by Beez's change of face because he can recognize them enough to know they are who they say they are and outward appearance matters little to the guy who is, ironically, also sometimes the vainest person on the show.

He picks a person in Beez to trust with all of himself who has proven with their actions that they are worthy of that trust. This is the wisest of choices as it's evident Ineffable Bureaucracy were made for each other.

Without opening up and trusting Beez, Gabriel would not have had the means to survive his fall without losing himself entirely. Trusting them is the wisest choice of a face that Gabriel has made.

He then is ready to face his issues with Heaven and its role in all definitions of Armageddon. He rejects the, well, literal face that is The Metatron...

...and goes to the face of the building where he knows he'll be safe...

...because he knows he can trust the faces of the couple who lives there to let him in and help him.

As such, Gabriel survives his personal Armageddon. He falls and he's struggling but he is saved from forms of death by Beez, Crowley and Aziraphale, finds a new way forward, and rendered literally immune to darkness as a result.

Gabriel went down in S2... both figuratively and literally... a mental health crisis and cast down from his position at the top of Heaven and down in the lift to Earth as he ran for his life... but he's saved from the fall leading all the way to death by virtue of the fact that he chose his faces wisely. Beez, Crowley and Aziraphale helped him find his way through and join The Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association and now Jim has people.

Not only does this help Gabriel but it's going to help others as well because now that Jim is on the mend, he can be there for them and others as well.

But what about the one whose story Gabriel is paralleling in S2?

What about Aziraphale? Did he remember in S2 what Agnes told him?

He did not.

In S2, for the most part, Aziraphale was pushing away the people and things he needed to survive a personal Armageddon and, as of the end of S2, is playing with some serious, serious fire.

In The Final 15, Aziraphale chose an untrustworthy being wearing the very same face that Gabriel had wisely finally rejected...

...over quite literally a lot of face of the person he trusts more than anyone else...

...he chose the elevator door face ("going to Heaven"/death) over that of his own bookshop (life)...

He was offered the chance to become the new Gabriel and that is likely more true in the S2 falling Gabriel sense of things than it is in terms of the job offer being real. In his effort to take care of everyone, Aziraphale didn't let in the people around him to help him, too. He didn't see himself as a person in his own right. He made the fatal mistake against which Agnes cautioned and which Gabriel avoided.

That said... everyone goes down. It's just gravity. Everyone wants to live and they'll eventually fall trying. No one asks for death. They all ask for coffee.

But those that manage to survive can find wings can fly and go back up together.

Insects, birds...

The flies. The nightingales...

Did you give wings to peacocks, Job? The communication metaphor of feeding the ducks frozen peas:

Or teach the ostrich to run? The ostrich who ran:

And when you feed your ducks your frozen peas and make your own history, you're living life together.

Everyday/it's a getting closer/going faster than a rollercoaster...

A rollercoaster goes in a bendy loop. It goes up, it goes down, it goes upside down and right side up again and sideways and every which way, and when, all is said and done, it drops you off back off in what looks like the same place you began... but the experience has left you a changed person. This is life.

Life is a series of loops on the rollercoaster track. You can go up and you can down and it doesn't matter because it's all the same track and your position, so long as you are alive, isn't fixed but forever in motion.

If you choose your faces wisely like Gabriel did, they can help you stay alive, get back on the rollercoaster, and take the ride with you. If you shut out those who are there, you might never get back on. If you don't, as the song suggests, love will surely never come your way.

But what if you're like Aziraphale and you have chosen your faces wisely but then, unwisely, pulled away from them? What if you push people away when you're struggling and are only going so high up because the track has run out and you're about to take a massive plunge down? Is it really all over for him?

Yes and no. Yes, because a fall is a death of sorts and there is no going back. Aspects of it will forever be a part of him... but, also, no, because while he might have chosen his faces, for very sympathetic reasons, ultra-poorly in The Final 15, he has chosen them very well before. As such, Aziraphale has people around him, like Crowley and The Lords of the Flies, that will help him back up-- as well as some people he might not yet even realize are in his corner.

To save Aziraphale from the effects of Aziraphale's own, personal armageddon, they're going to have to come together to change Heaven and, in doing so, they will stop the destruction-of-Earth kind of Armageddon in the process. In choosing the faces of one another over the floating head's face, they'll save their individual worlds and the Earth as a whole, giving everyone a chance to live their lives as they see fit.

Save the angel, save the world.

A-hey? A-hey-hey. 😇

#good omens #good omens meta #aziraphale

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