#i am just a bitter old doctor who fan

[bingqiv]

the americanisation of doctor who very much feels like sisyphus rolling that boulder up the hill. he’ll fail but he’ll try again and again and still continue to fail.

[alexcors]

Donna: Guys, they published comics about me!

Garfield and Jaime: Congratulations! This is great!

Damian: Tt.

Garfield: Never mind, Damian doesn't like comics.

Donna: But... Why?

Damian: Mediocre art with crooked anatomy and even more mediocre text that easily fits on one page, the plots are banal, the dialogue is primitive.

Raven: Damian prefers books.

Garfield, in a whisper: Without pictures.

Damian: Tt. Books train the imagination, comics are forced into boundaries.

Garfield: Come on, this isn't just another workout, this is just fun.

Donna: Maybe Damian is so hostile because there are no comics about him?

Damian: Nothing like that.

Raven: I'd rather there weren't any about me either. People become overly... Annoying when they read things like that.

Jaime: Are you talking about that comic where you were supposed to have an affair with Gar?

Garfield: Or the one where you and Kid Flash?

Donna: With Jericho?

Jaime: With Zatanna?

Raven: What?!

Jaime: Yeah. There is also a comic where Beast Boy and Klerion turned into a two-headed monster and you went on a date with them in this form.

Raven: Azar...

Damian: Don't worry about it.

Raven: It's easy for you to tell, it's not you who is being made out to be a silent, trouble-free slu...

Donna: I found a comic featuring Damian!

Garfield: What's there?! What? Show me!

Damian, grinning: There must be pools of blood.

Donna: Nope, this is a closed tournament on a secret island, which can only be reached by a special ship. And a mysterious sorcerer rules there.

Garfield: Hey! This is the main plot of the Mortal Kombat game! I thought you said you found a comic, not fan fiction.

Donna: Well, that's not all, there's also... Romance.

Damian: Ugh, nonsense.

Donna: No, I'm serious, here you are and a pale girl with a gothic look, wearing fashionable fingerless gloves, with lilac eyes...

Garfield, chuckling: Brunette and daughter of Satan?

Donna: No, blonde.

Damian turns to Raven, introduces her with blonde hair, shrugs and turns to the others: Maybe.

Jaime turned a comic book in his direction with a shaggy blonde in makeup that made her look like she had the last stages of syphilis: Dude, this is definitely not Raven.

Damian grimaced: Absolutely not.

Garfield: Who is she? What do they write about her?

Donna: A fifteen-year-old mercenary who extracts human organs to order.

Damian, gloomily: I would have cut off her hands the first time we met. These scavengers are disgusting. I don’t understand doctors who do this kind of thing.

Donna: They write here that she is a meta, and rips out organs with her hands.

Damian: What?!

Garfield: Not cool, guys.

Damian: But it's stupid! An organ removed in this way will die in a matter of seconds. If this is her trade, then she must be a complete idiot not to know such things.

Raven: Or maybe she just likes to gut people.

Jaime: Just pools of blood, just like you said.

Damian: Blood has almost no smell, unlike human insides, the pieces of which will cover you from head to toe if you try to remove an organ in this way. And even the smallest particles of it will start to rot pretty quickly, creating a smell… To be honest, it's unpleasant.

*The Titans, who were “lucky” to visit the crime scene with the corpses, grimaced, remembering how disgusting it smelled there*

Donna: But it can be washed off. Yes?

Damian: No. The smell is deeply ingrained into the fabric. The aroma will be like a dead cat in a garbage pit.

Jaime: Ew!

Garfield: I wish I hadn't trained my imagination...

Donna: What, there’s no way to get it out at all? Alcohol, for example. This... girl seems to go to bars.

Damian, pinching the bridge of his nose: If this is really a teenager, then she can only go to an illegal bar, where it stinks of sour booze and bitter smoke. The mixture of aromas will reek about two meters away.

Jaime: The stink and the black and white outfit. And her name is Skunk Girl, am I right?

Garfield mentally added new smells to the already established image, causing his stomach to lurch unpleasantly: I propose to end this foul-smelling discussion.

Donna: Well...

Jaime: What?

Donna: No, guys, it's not worth it.

Raven: What is it?

Donna: Oh... There's a kissing scene.

Jaime: Ew!

Damian: I'll sue them.

Garfield: I feel sick... Disgusting.

Donna picks up the comic with two fingers, like a dirty rag, and throws it aside: I agree.

Raven with a slight movement of her palm lifted the comic into the air and burned it, leaving not even ashes

Garfield: Ray, you are our savior!

Damian buries his face into the desonesse’s hair and eagerly inhales its aroma, lavender, slightly sweet and spicy: Thank you.

[erikahammerschmidt]

It would be sacrilegious to post this on Christmas, as that is a holy day to Christians, and Dr. Seuss fans, and Doctor Who fans.

and while I have VERY much experience in all three of those fandoms...

I am poking some... slightly bitter fun at them all, here.

So, instead, I am posting it on Amok Time Day.

Hope this resolves the problem.

...

'Twas the night before Christmas And nobody knew. It was pre-Christian times In the Kingdom of Who.

The Whos down in Who-ville Liked singing and feasts But the plains still stampeded With not-yet-Roast Beasts.

No mission had reached them  To try and convert So, like Adam in Eden, Just formed from the dirt,

They lived on their dust-speck And kept to themselves No thoughts about Santa No thoughts about elves

The world out beyond They had not tried to find... They as yet had no reason To name their own kind,

So they were not yet Whos And the dust-speck they claimed  Was not yet called Who-ville; It had not been named.

But, that night before Christmas It fell, from on high Like a giant blue present, Wrapped up in the sky...

And from out of the wreckage A man struggled free! He was bleeding and raving As all rushed to see,

And he cried "Merry Christmas!" None knew what he meant. And they asked him, instead, Just from where he'd been sent?

And what sort of a fellow  Could fall from so high? And what sort of a box Could be able to fly?

So he told them his story  Of warping through space When, through desperate measures  He'd come to this place,

For his Box had been seeking A safe place to hide... And like it, this dust-speck Was Bigger Inside.

But size doesn't matter, The Box could recall, For a person's a person, No matter how small!

But it crashed, and it wounded  The Person inside... Who informed them it wouldn't Be long til he died.

So he told them his stories Of Stars that had shined, And the War that had left him The Last of his Kind,

And he told them of Christmas, As hours rolled by. He said, "Christmas is Special!" Of course, they asked why.

So he told them of England, Of puddings and feasts And the Star in the West, and the Kings from the East

And of old "Father Christmas" Or "Santa," who came To bring Presents of honor And Coal-lumps of shame 

And he told his adventures From year after year: The tales of each Christmas! Of Danger, and Fear!

Of Daleks and Plastics, Of Cybermen too, Who would come to your world To steal Christmas from you!

"Do they come from Above?" Asked the people in fear. "And what is Above, And how could it get here?"

"For here on this Dust-speck We sing and we feast, But we never see stars, In our West or our East."

"And sometimes, up North There's some dusty white snow But there's no danger there... At least not that we know!"

"Well, I wouldn't look there," he assured them. "You see, Your danger won't come From the north, probably.

...But you never can tell," He abruptly put forth. "Because... plenty of worlds Have a South and a North."

But, with internal bleeding His life couldn't last, And his hearts, in edema Grew three sizes, fast.

And as he was dying His followers came, And begged, "Oh great prophet! Please tell us your name...

So our world from now on Can be named after you!" He replied, "I'm the Doctor." They cried: "Doctor who?"

But, alas, with no answer His life slipped away, And everyone mourned him That first Christmas Day.

But then, three days later, They found, at the dawn That his grave had been emptied! The Box, too, was gone!

All marveled in wonder, And wondered for years Who the stranger had been Who'd brought bright Christmas fears.

And what was his name? Was it "Strange"? Was it "Seuss"? The name was the Doctor's. They still don't know Whose.

So their world was named Who-ville, All countries the same, Except for Up North... Which was given no name.

For the North was Above, From which Danger could fall And this Danger was taught  To all Whos, big and small.

And, just north of Who-ville, The people died out For the rest of their world  Did not want them about.

And many years hence There was One left behind. The Grinch, North of Who-ville: The Last of his Kind.

[tilbageidanmark]

MOVIES I WATCHED THIS WEEK (#190):

Jeanne Moreau X 2:

🍿 First watch: MR. KLEIN (1976), my third by blacklisted Joseph Losey (after 'The servant' and 'Modesty Blaise'). An intelligent mystery about mistaken identity. Privileged art dealer in occupied Paris Alain Delon benefits from the misfortunes of his clients who must liquidate their collections at fire sale prices. That is, until he's suspected of being Jewish himself. One of Delon's best roles.

RIP, Alain Delon!

🍿 THE ADOLESCENT (1978), one of the only 3 movies directed by Jeanne Moreau, was a delightful coming-of-age French bonbon. In the summer of 1939, just before the outbreak of the war, a 13 year old girl is vacationing in a small village near Avignon, and falls in love with a young doctor, 20 years her senior. And then her mother, full of sensual energy, has an affair with him instead. (Suzanne Lindon re-worked the same story in her wonderful 2020 'Spring Blossom'). Thematically it was a bit thin, but the pastoral landscapes, accordion score, and nostalgic haze were catnip to any Francophile worth his Vin Rouge. Simone Signoret plays the grandma, and there's one explicit naked scene of the young girl. 7/10. [*Female Director*]

🍿

I AM GRETA is a terrific 2020 documentary about Greta Thunberg, the then-17 brave crusader. It was made by somebody who had close personal access to her from the very beginning of her journey. I admired her steadfast heroism from the first weeks of her school-strikes in Stockholm, and was deeply-moved by her ascent into a global icon and torch-bearer environmentalist. And of course, she reminded me of Adora, both physically and in spirit. It's a very personal experience to me. What an legend. 9/10.

It must be devastating (to her, and to us) to look back today at the enthusiastic movement that she inspired, and recognize that it didn't amount to jack shit. (Screenshot Above).

🍿

Bergman X 5:

🍿 BERGMAN, A YEAR IN A LIFE (2018), another documentary of another complicated Swede, is the best biography about the legendary filmmaker. It focuses on 1957, a year in which he directed both 'The Seventh Seal' and 'Wild Strawberries', as well as television play and 4 massive theater productions. He also had 5 simultaneous relationships, and spent a month in the hospital, suffering from stomach ulcer and mental exhaustion. It paints an honest portrait, warts and all, of a truly iconic 'artiste', and one who enjoyed, from this point forward, the recognition and worldwide admiration as a one-of-a-kind genius. But also a selfish, lonely 'Erotoman', a megalomaniac workaholic, and a power hungry autocrat. (Also, a Nazi sympathizer until at least 1946). Essential viewing to all Bergman fans. 9/10. [*Female Director*]

🍿 TORMENT ("HETS") (1944) is a love triangle between fallen "shop girl" Mai Zetterling, a good looking student who falls for her her, and a sadistic Latin teacher who tortures them both. It was the very first Bergman screenplay which was produced, and he also directed some of the exterior scenes. A good review - here.

🍿 WILD STRAWBERRIES was made by a 39 year old man and perfectly captured the mindset of a really 'old' man, a bitter and resigned man at the end of his life. Of all the thousands of great movies made, this is the one nobody will object to when calling it a 'Masterpiece'. An immaculate 10/10. Re-watch ♻️.

🍿 KARIN'S FACE, a 14-min. visual poem from 1986, composed of still photos of his mother Karin, the most important woman in his life.

🍿 MINNS NI? ("DO YOU REMENBER?") is a quick mash-up of clips from 170 Swedish films, including many of Bergman's. The concept was better played in 'Final Cut: Ladies and Gentlemen'.

🍿

My 18th terrific film by Agnès Varda, SALUT LES CUBAINS. After her 1963 visit to Cuba, she composed a poetic montage out of the 4,000 still photos that she shot over there. A beautiful homage to the faces and the spirit of the people as well as the revolution. Narrated by herself and Michel Piccoli, and with great music score. I watched it in the original French. 9/10. [*Female Director*]

🍿

Ali Abbasi is an Iranian-Danish filmmaker, who directed 4 features so far. After seeing his 'Holy Spider' last week, I wanted to continue with the rest of his work. BORDER (2018) is an inventive folklorist tale about a woman with a Neanderthal appearance who works for the Swedish Border Service. She uses her feral sense of smell to sniff out people's fear, guilt and shame, for example when they hide child porn on their phones. It's a dark and disturbing story which starts with an unusual premise, but ends as a weird body-horror fantasy about forest trolls and changelings and what-have you.

As a completist, I was planning on seeing his debut feature 'Shelley', which looked like a 'Rosemary's Baby' re-boot out in the country, but I'm not in the mood for another Horror Nordic. Instead I'll just wait for his upcoming Trump Origin story, 'The apprentice'.

🍿

"Don't kill anyone unless you really have to."

GREEDY PEOPLE, a new, twisted black comedy in the Coen Brothers mold: Bumbling characters turn small time crooks by making one worst decision after another. A surprising fun ride, with a specific small island community feel. The title only comes up at 24:00 min. and the defining dog murder falls at exactly the mid point of the story. The initial reviews were not that great, but I enjoyed it very much for fulfilling its genre requirements. 8/10.

🍿

OCEAN WAVES (1993), a lesser known Ghibli Studio film about two student friends who both fall for a new girl who just transferred to their school. Not a typical Ghibli drama of a teen romance, with flatter anime style, but still an understated, whimsical score.

🍿

"The continent is peopled almost entirely by homosexuals..."

DANCE FIRST, my 3rd fictionalized film by British director James Marsh, (after his much better documentaries 'Man on Wire' and 'Project Nim').

A deferential, melodramatic and uninspiring Samuel Becket biopic. I dislike filmed literary biographies in general, and I hated this boring, affectatious one in particular. I don't particularly care for Gabriel Byrne high-brow/low-brow acting style, and I definitely couldn't stomach the dude who played his younger self. The fake inner monologue, the horrible attempt at bringing James Joyce back from the dead... It was excruciating to sit through.

🍿

Michigan J. frog X 2:

🍿 “Hello, my baby; hello, my honey; hello, my ragtime gal.”

ONE FROGGY EVENING, a 1955 Chuck Jones cartoon which introduced the all-singing, all-dancing frog, but who does it only when it feels like it. Based on a Cary Grant movie from the 40's.

🍿 First watch: Mel Brooks Star Wars parody SPACEBALLS, the inspiration to 'Black Mirror' USS Callister. But I never saw any Star Wars or Star Trek movies, and it just wasn't very funny. The jokes were on the 'I Love URANUS' bumper stickers level, and Stephen Tobolowsky as a gay trooper. 2/10.

Colonel Sandurz was much better when he later played Rabbi Nachtner.

🍿

2 by young Canadian documentarian Carol Nguyen:

🍿 NO CRYING AT THE DINNER TABLE (2019) is a simple, yet powerful, family interview. Vietnamese family, father, mother and sister, opens up for the first time about private traumas they each carry with them. Then they listen to the recorded conversations together. 8/10.

🍿 NANITIC (2022) is another simple and sensitive look into the psyche of a young girl who is spending the day with her Vietnamese grandma, as she lays on her death bed in the living room. 8/10. [*Female Director*]

🍿

2 by another young Canadian, Justine Gauthier:

🍿 DEATH TO THE BIKINI! (2023) an award-winning short about a rebellious 10-year-old girl who refuses to start wearing bikini tops when going to the water park. Like the Jeanne Moreau film above, it features nude scenes of the unapologetic prepubescent girl.

🍿 "...So, there's only a living room and a kitchen and a bathroom?"

THE APARTMENT (2018), a newly-divorced mother spends the first weekend with her two kids at her new small apartment. Sad. 8/10. [*Female Director*]

🍿

Philips Cinema / Parallel Lines had a contest in 2010 where 600 filmmakers created shorts using only six lines "What is it? ... A unicorn... Never seen one up close before.... Beautiful."

THE GIFT (2010), one of the only few science-fiction shorts I love. A messenger delivers a mysterious box to a rich man in dystopian Moscow. A frequent re-watch ♻️.

THE BURIED is a 'Breaking Bad' final scene at the desert.

25 of the finalists are on YouTube.

🍿

A few more shorts:

🍿 In THE HAIRCUT (1982), busy executive John Cassavetes has only 15 minutes to get a haircut, but he gets the best one of his life. It includes a manicure, pedicure, shoulder rub, shoe shine, romance, and a performance by The Bangles. Directed by Susanna Hoffs' mother. [*Female Director*]

🍿 PAS DE DEUX (1968), my second by Canadian Norman McLaren (after 'Neighbors'). A ballet short with Romanian pan flute music score.

🍿 Only my second by D.W. Griffith, THE MUSKETEERS OF PIG ALLEY (1912). An early gangster movie, starring Lillian Gish

🍿 FUNERAL AT NINE (2022), a beautiful short directed together by 6 animators. Three brothers deal with grief differently.

🍿 THE COOK is like a Swiss 'Ratatouille' but with weed instead of food, and also it's just a dream.

🍿

IT'S A GOOD LIFE (S3E8) is my fourth-ever 'Twilight Zone'. I wonder how much of the American mindset of 'Magical Thinking' was born out of it. Or did the 1950's paranoia and crushing conformity produce this sense of 'Normalcy' threatened by the mystic, the bizarre, the 'odd'? 'Everybody must always smile, and think good thoughts.'

🍿

"...So I reached out to my local militia..."

AMERICA'S RIGHT-WING RADICALS is a new, German documentary about the military veterans who are systematically building a functioning shadow army ready for a civil war in the near future. Trumpists, Nazis, fascists and racists united for one glorious holy fight, to get rid of the Jews, the blacks, and the poor...

🍿

Throw-back to the Adora Art project:  

Adora with Alain Delon.

Waiting for Godot Adora.

Adora with Greta Thunberg.

Seventh Seal Adora.

Ballerina Adora.

🍿  

(My complete movie list is here).

[wykart]

I don't think it's a cash grab on nostalgia, it's giving people more of what they want.

I know I stopped watching a half-season into 12 (the one where Mazie Williams did a guest spot) and haven't been able to maintain any interest since, but I'm planning on watching the 10.3, or whatever they are, epsiodes.

I mean that sort of proves my point, doesn’t it? You wouldn’t be coming back to it if it weren’t for the nostalgia for Tennant’s Doctor. That’s fine, he was a good Doctor, but it’s a deliberate choice to do something that has never been done on Doctor Who before, which is having the Doctor regenerate back into a previous actor. Giving ‘the people what they want’ (as in, not the fans of the show now but those who watched it back in the late 00s) by bringing back a popular Doctor is very much a marketing strategy to bring back old viewers, and that feels very antithetical to what the show is about! I’m all for old Doctors coming back for specials, I think that can be super fun, but each Doctor is their own character, each change is significant, and from a narrative perspective it’s kinda crap to say, oh the Tenth Doctor’s back and he’s the same character as he was! (I’m basing this on the short teaser so am eager to be proven wrong), negating what’s happened since (which is a whole bloody lot). Also, and I think this is particularly why the decision rubs me the wrong way, Jodie Whittaker got so much hate from a loud group of fans during her run. To have her then regenerate back to Tennant it’s almost like ‘wait! Come back fanboys! We made a mistake’ and seeing all the comments saying ‘finally Doctor Who is back’ really just uurghhhhhh. That’s not directed at you by the way. And I am very much going full fanboy mode over here when to most it’s not that deep. But! Ncuti Gatwa! It’s like they don’t have faith in him to carry the show forward and keep people interested.

In the end, I don’t really mind. I’ll watch the episodes and I’ll probably enjoy them (looking at those obscure weird comic characters they’re bringing back, it’s sure to be interesting). But I can’t shake that knee-jerk reaction of bitterness seeing people coming back saying ‘finally Doctor who will be good again’ when it’s always been good (and bad), and it has always, always, been about growth and change.

[natromanxoff]

Evening Post - November 25, 1991

(x)

Pop world mourns loss of Queen singer

FREDDIE MERCURY DIES OF AIDS

[Photo caption: Mercury pictured in September]

[Photo caption: SHOWMAN: Mercury’s unique stage style that made him a rock legend]

FANS and friends of pop star Freddie Mercury were today mourning his deah from Aids.

The 45-year-old singer of rock group Queen died peacefully during the night at his luxury London mansion, just hours after telling the world he had the disease.

Mercury's publicist Roxy Meade said: "His death was the result of broncho-pneumonia brought on by Aids."

The flamboyant star had lived like a recluse for the past two years, the illness leaving him frail and gaunt.

Tributes soon poured in for the singer who had helped make Queen one of the most successful acts in the world.

Ultimate

DJ and comedian Kenny Everett, a close friend of the singer, said: "He burnt the candle at both ends — and in the middle."

Rock critic Paul Gambaccini told TV-am: “What a star. They don’t make them like him anymore. He really gave life and showmanship to (…).

“He could command an audience, hold an audience in the palm of his hand. The climate was when he and the group absolutely stole Live Aid.”

Queen rose to force in the early 70s with a series of epic albums and singles culminating in the Number One smash hit Bohemian Rhapsody.

That was the song which began the video revolution in pop music. and the band stayed ahead of the pack with a run of spectacular and sometimes outrageous promotional films for their hits.

Mercury will be cremated in a private ceremony later this week.

He confirmed only on Saturday that he suffering from Aids. He issued a statement saying he wanted to end speculation about his health.

His statement to The […]

Mercury dies

[…] Press Association said: “Following the enormous conjecture in the press over the last two weeks, I wish to confirm that I have been tested HIV positive and have Aids.

“I felt it correct to keep this information private to date in order to protect the privacy of those around me.

“However, the time has now come for my friends and fans around the world to know the truth and I hope that everyone will join with me, my doctors and all those worldwide in the fight against this terrible disease.”

Musician turned politician Screaming Lord Sutch, who played on the same bills as Queen in the early 1970s, said: “We have lost a most original and entertaining singer who inspired many, many people.”

He said Mercury deserved to ranked alongside Mick Jagger and Elvis Presley.

DEATH OF A SHOWMAN

Front door exit for a legend

THE BIG FINISH

By JAMES BELSEY

FREDDIE MERCURY died as he lived last night… in a worldwide blaze of publicity.

It was only on Saturday that the over-the-top rock singer confirmed what we’d all suspected for months — that he was suffering from Aids.

Rare sightings of Mercury this year had shown a shockingly different picture of the man.

The chin-forward, grinning arrogance and that amused, boyish look had vanished.

Fortune

In its place was a spectral shadow of the Mercury who had catapulted Queen to worldwide fame and kept them there for almost two decades.

His kamikaze lifestyle of sex and drugs and rock'n'roll had finally taken its toll.

Rock music’s long list of stars who thought they were immortal and could live by a different set of rules to the rest of us had found its latest casualty.

Freddie had enormous talent and a stage presence that magnetised an audience at the swivel of a hip or the raising of an arm in his characteristic pose of defiance.

He amassed a huge fortune, lived in a £5 million mansion home in Kensington, showered gifts on friends and lovers but remained, at heart, a lonely, increasingly bitter man.

He once said: and "You can have everything and still be the loneliest man and that is the bitter tupe of loneliness.

Success has brought me world idolisation and milions of pounds, but it has prevented me from having the one thing we all need… a loving, on-going relationship.

I can't win Love is a Russian roulette for me. I try to hold back when I’m attracted to someone, but I just can’t control love. It runs riot. All my one night stands are just me playing my part.”

Freddie made no secret of his bisexuality. “I’ve had a lot of lovers. I’ve tried relationships on either side — male and female. But all of them have gone wrong.”

His longest love affair was with blonde Mary Austin which ended after seven years. They remained close friends and she worked for him as part of his staff.

He even became godfather to her son Richard two years ago and spoke of a new sense of responsibility.

His lavish generosity and party-living was outrageous and legendary.

Banquet

After Wembley in 1987 he hired a body painter from Germany and guests were amazed to find the “uniformed" bell boys were, in fact, naked. And at a banquet in New Orleans he hid a nude model in a huge tray of raw liver, making it quiver.

For another he hired Concorde and flew friends over the Atlantic at vast expense.

In one of his final interviews a few weeks ago, the by now painfully thin Mercury said: “I don’t really think about when I’m dead or how they are going to remember me.

“When I'm dead, who cares? I don’t”.

How Mercury became the first video star

FREDDIE MERCURY was born Frederick Bulsara in Zanzibar on September 5, 1946, son of a government accountant. He was educated first at a boarding school in Bombay.

When the family returned to England he became a student at Ealing College of Art. For a decade Britain’s art schools had been the breeding ground for a string of the world’s top groups.

Freddie longed to be a star and in 1971 teamed up with like-minded students Brian May, John Deacon and Roger Taylor.

Their aim: to shock and amuse their way to the top. A new, young generation of glam rockers were pressing hard on the heels of the now mature Sixties superstars.

What was the most outrageous title for a band? They chose Queen, with its clear double meaning and, just in case anyone had missed the point, dolled themselves up with make-up.

Within a year they were the talk of the college circuit. Within two years they’d been signed up by EMI and their debut album Queen was released in July 1973, followed up with two gigantically successful national tours in 1974 and 1975.

Queen came to the Colston Hall in Bristol on November 12, 1974 and November 17, 1975. After the second gig Freddie changed out of his stage gear, a slashed to-the-waist catsuit and threw a party for pals and the road crew.

They returned to Bristol Hippodrome on December 9, 1979, as one of the world’s top attractions.

Mercury knew how to sell himself and the band better than anyone. It’s no coincidence that Queen single-handedly changed the rock industry overnight.

They knew they had s huge hit with their dynamic single Bohemian Rhapsody. But how to sell it?

In came the innovative answer. At the cost of a few thousand pounds they recorded a video film to promote single. Within months the rock video had ceased to be a novelty — and became an essential part of the business.

Typically, it was Freddie who’d been the first rock video star.

Avon Aids campaign launched

FREDDIE Mercury's death comes as health experts in Avon launch a new campaign to highlight Aids.

A series of events began today as part of a week-long Avons Aids Week designed to bring the disease into the public eye.

Experts are keen to dispel any complacency — particulary among heterosexuals — about the HIV virus.

anyope had missed the point,

And Health Secretary and Bristol West MP William Waldegrave has backed the campaign.

Increase

*We have done slightly better than was initally predicted but there is a slow-ticking time bomb of the disease moving across to the heterosexual community,” he said.

“Unless we act now we can predict that in five or ten years’ time we will see a big increase again of the disease in the straight community.

“We have got to get everybody as sensitive to this issue as they gay community is now.”

FAY GOULD

[Photo caption: THE CHAMPION: Top, Mercury had it all. Above, on stage during Queen’s Colston Hall concert back in 1975]

[sallysellsseashellssundays]

Disclaimer: This post is going to be Anti Moffat for anyone who’s reading and is a fan you’ve been warned.

I finished watching A Town Called Mercy and that is now 2 dud episodes out of 3 in S7, oh boy!

The Doctor said he’s 1200 years old and I think he was about 1100 in the S6 finale so looks like he’s spacing out his visits to the Ponds by entire years or possibly even decades. I think I’m a bit confused as to why the Doctor doesn’t take other companions traveling, he said that he didn’t want to put the Ponds in danger last series but obviously that doesn’t matter anymore as he still takes them on trips so why not just get a whole bunch of part time companions and rotate them around in shifts so he’s never alone but they can all still have their own lives? 

The alien doctor being able to tell Amy is a mother b/c she has kindness, sadness and ferocity in her eyes lmao please that was such a ridiculous moment. Damn I don’t think I’ll ever get over how bitter I am at that storyline and how much Moffat messed it up. 

Isaac jumping in at literally the very last moment annoyed me to no end, there could have been so many opportunities to pull Jex out of the line of fire and try to negotiate with the cyborg, there was zero reason why he had to push him out of the way right when the Gunslinger fired, ugh. Honestly there were too many things that were way too convenient with the Gunslinger vs Jex situation.

I feel like this episode was poorly done, it was a huge missed opportunity to dig in a bit into Eleven as the version of the Doctor who’s carrying a fair amount of guilt not just from the Time War but his time as Nine and Ten as well. I feel like there were some parts mirroring the Dalek episode from S1, but it wasn’t as well done here. They could have shown Jex and the Doctor as being quite similar underneath it all and that being why Eleven felt so intensely about the situation but it fell flat. It could have even made Eleven grabbing the gun more powerful if it had been tied in to Eleven seeing himself/his sins/his guilt reflected in Jex. 

Amy and Rory felt tacked on here and I thought the episode could have been more powerful if the Doctor had been alone, the only thing Amy seemed to be there for was her speech which to me just ended up feeling like a rehashed version of the confrontation between Nine and Rose in Dalek. Rory basically did nothing. 

Overall I thought the setting was cool and different, but the episode felt boring to me and was a disappointment.  I’ve felt that Matt’s portrayal of the Doctor has been absolutely incredible even when I have problems with the writing but for some reason (and I can’t quite pinpoint why) I did not feel he did this darker episode well.

[hiddenbysuccubi]

My goodness, much thanks! Last Song: Feel Me by DJ Shog (I got very little sleep and had to get to the city and nothing kick-starts my 'screw everything GO' like my old HS Trance playlist. I do not listen to this often. Spotify isn't opening or I'd give you the last song listened to in my car from my similarly used "Hit The Ground Running" playlist.) Favorite Color: The dark blue in the sky before the night goes bitter black. I am absolutely pretentious about it. Last Book: Grabbed By The Guard by Sarah Spade. While my current physical books I'm reading are in my car and I forget that's the last online book I read. Guilty pleasure. I do want to pick up Outlander and I have started Blood of Elves by Andrzej Sapkowski (physical - got the library in my last small town to buy the series) as well as the audiobook of Storm Front by Jim Butcher. Last Movie: Seize Them!

Last TV Show: Taskmaster AU (latest season). The Decameron before that. Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Spicy (savory) or sour (sweet). I'm not a fan of spicy sweet (please don't put flavor on my fruit) or sour savory (tangy is a very fine fine line).

Relationship Status: I love the computer and it doesn't love me. And. I'm dating myself. (Single) Last Thing I Googled: Parking Lots Near (Redacted) and 'Sparrow Annoying' Current Obsession: Doctor Who, Stucky, Spuffy, Spideypool, Destiel (AKA in lieu of new things my ADHD obsessions have re-looped back to tried and true ones for the brain chemicals) Looking Forward To: Moana 2. Being done figuring out my healthcare insurance.

@heliager @lonelywitchversion13 @somthing-wicked-this-way-comes @patronsaintofprincesses @pageofmemes @allyendergirl (By no means do you have to do this I was just letting you know you are thought of also BAP)

ten people i'd like to get to know better

tagged by: @megkuna thanks <333

last song: the phantom of the opera

favorite color: muted green

last book: uhhhhhh oh man i really need to start reading books

last movie: phantom of the opera which i watched with a friend

last tv show: the original star trek which i also watched with a friend

sweet/spicy/savory: sweet, i love sugar too much

relationship status: single and not looking, i'd rather just have more friends

last thing i googled: "how to know if skincare routine is too harsh" my pimples hurt in a Different way now :(

current obsession: probably still mob psycho 100 but it's not what it used to be. yay depression

looking forward to: when my family finally moves into the new house

tagging: @scarecloud69 @disorganised-thoughtss @daneonrainbow @lawful-goof @officialkarinuzumaki @leo-probably @vychodocech @umkayonninay @mocha-blossom @spageddy29 no pressure though <3

[blackvail22]

9/25/23

10:25am -

i just had my first appointment with my new psychiatrist? i think thats the word. i got diagnosed with BED (binge eating disorder), and ive been saying for YEARS that i had it, and no one would help me. its been 9 years since i first went to a doctor and told them about my eating habits; they didnt help me. i had an obvious ed, and im glad im finally getting the help i need.

my relationship with food is severely complicated. im obsessed with my weight and the calories im intaking, but i cant stop... binging. and the fact i have fat on my body makes me want to throw up, nd every time i notice it, it makes me feel like my insides are being scratched over and over. my fear of purging is the only reason i dont...

a month ago, i was talking with my counselor, and she asked me if ive ever been screened for adhd. i told her no, but i can tell her yes!! my new doctor did a screening thing for adhd, and i have it. shes referring me to somewhere to get a more in-depth test to see what type of adhd and the severeity of it.

i told my mom all of this, and she seemed upset. i dont understand? shes been so rude to me lately... i mean, she always is.. but it feels like she changed? shes so bitter, and shes being like homophobic 😭😭 out of nowhere LIKE WHAT PROMPTED U TO BE LIKE THIS? i SWEAR on everything, being a chronic facebook user ruined her. she wasnt like this before facebook LMAOO shes so sad. but, all well!

im going to try my best to clean my room again. i NEED to get my shit together!! its so embarrassing how messy it is. i have to focus on doing it. i have to do it today; i have no choice!!

10:17pm

news flash: i didnt clean my room. whos surprised? im going to try and get it together before i go to bed because i have to... i have or else ill feel like im letting my boyfriend down lol

yk idk why but being friends and flirting w somsone is so much different than dating them. its insane!

i didnt mention this before but im being put on a different medication that targets bed and adhd and it also helps depression. i have to do a bunch of testing before i take it, though, because its a controlled substance

im afraid of facing my past. i know that i was a fucked up kid, but seeing HOW fucked up i am is... terrifying. like i read through a few of my old roblox messages and woah!!! i was living a double life, holy shit! obvi... i used a fake name, fake age, and some of the stories i would tell belonged to my sister. ill forever be regretful for the way i was back then... it makes me think, though... did i ever really change?

i had this girlfriend named .... lets call her juju. she lived on the other side of my country, and we met because we both ran fan accts for a youtuber on insta. i became ... obsessive? quickly. i feel sorry for her, but i was 12 and she was nearly 16, so... she easily couldve cut me off once she found out my age lmao. idk, i kept trying to find ways for her and i to meet in person because i was so excited to meet her online. she broke up with me, and i made another instagram and pretended to be someone else for a while.... aka i catfished her. i didnt show her photos of anyone else, just used the name "katrina" like i used to. i got her to talk abt her exes and then she talked abt how she recently broke up w someone and how crazy they were. i knew then that my behavior wasnt normal. i didnt understand the boundaries i was crossing.

am i all that different now? i used his snap maps to see when he's at his dad and when hes at his moms or at school. when i planned on moving down there, i looked for apartments that were nearby his primary home. i attenpted to make an acct to pretend i was someone else and see if he would lie to me abt info abt his life. i didnt finish it.... i got like the ick from myself and was thinking abt how crazy i was.

i try my best to not be ... stalker-like. i wouldnt follow someone throughout their day to see where they are, who theyre with. i wouldnt use it to harm him, and if he didnt want to see me or talk to me, i wouldnt force him to by showing up to his house or texting him off the number i give to weirdos.

im getting tired. its 10:37p now, and i keep like closing my eyes every once and awhile inbetween sections.

i think the last thing i feel i need to rant abt is how i told my dad i have binge eating disorder and for dinner when i told him i didnt care what he got me, HE GOT ME FOOD FOR A FAMILY OF 4. he looked me in the eyes and said, "two cheeseburgers, 16 chicken nuggets, 10 cheese sticks, and a milkshake incase u get hungry later" when he KNOWS i have a habit of eating a lot of food in one sitting.

i feel gross from how much i ate today, and im still wanting to eat more.

being told "u can reverse everything thats wrong w you if u just lost weight!" and then having those same people ENFORCE ur unhealthy eating habits is insane

like, do u rlly want to help me? or do u want to just berate me for the hell of it?

okie song song time

this song is so ... relateable. typical pop song but its so good 2 me

[welllpthisishappening]

Nights Were Mainly Made for Saying

It's possible. Emma is certain. She's going to fix this. She's going to save him. By time traveling. Which is totally, absolutely possible.

She's read about it. There's a theory.

So, no one has ever actually done it yet, but that doesn't mean she can't or they can't try and she just needs a little help. From Killian Jones. And his magic.

Rating: Like a very high T teetering on the edge of M AN: I wanted to write something spooky. So I wrote about witches and time travel and Hamilton references. Can we still make Hamilton references? Has the time passed for that? Who cares, this is a time travel fic. It’s also absurdly long. Just like...because. I have no excuse. You should probably listen to Arctic Monkeys’ entire discography because that’s totally the vibe I was going for. Also because Alex Turner may be a vampire. That joke will make sense later.

On Ao3 if that’s how you roll. 

“Say that again.” “No.” “Swan.” “I know you heard me the first time,” Emma growls, trying to push her way through the half-open doorway. Killian, however, doesn’t move. If anything, he grows several feet, eyes widening and an expression on his face that appears torn between disbelief and incredulous.

And possibly furious.

Or worried.

Emma can’t really tell the difference.

This might have been a mistake.

She huffs, shoulders drooping with the force of her own frustration. “I don’t get why you’re being such a jerk about this,” she mumbles, kicking at his ankles like they’re friends or something.

They’re not... not friends. Not really. Killian’s been around for as long as Emma can remember because he’s been David’s partner for as long as Emma can remember and magical folk alway tend to flock towards each other.

It’s some kind of defense mechanism, she’s positive, a twist of their genetic makeup or something because magical folk are emotional and prone to immediate reaction and neither one of those things ever works out very well in the real world. So they’ve got to be around each other. To make sure no one else figures out they’re there.

Strength in numbers or whatever.

No one really knows how magic started or why it only appears in certain people, but they’re there and some sort of quasi-community and support system Emma never could have imagined when she was sitting in a foster home in Minnesota, certain the way lights always flickered around her was just a byproduct of an exceptionally difficult puberty.

Magic was in her blood. As they say. Or as Mary Margaret would say because Mary Margaret loved to say things like that and promise things like that and Emma had nearly collapsed when she felt the particular rush of her magic at freshman orientation.

It went from there. Mary Margaret never left Emma’s side, or vice versa, and David appeared sophomore year, a rush of power and positivity that was questionably good at brewing things and they found more magic in New York, of the literal and metaphorical variety, a family and a certainty and nothing bad was ever going to happen.

Except, of course, when one of your magical friends is murdered in cold blood, alone, without any suspects of any kind. Then, you know, the cliché loses a bit of its weight.

Emma kicks at Killian’s shin that time.

He scowls, lips twisted and head tilted at an angle that cannot possibly be good for his neck. And, for the first time since Emma marched to his front door fifteen minutes earlier, she takes a second to look at him. Really. Because he looks like shit. Really.

There are bags under his eyes and a hint of red in his gaze, like he’s gotten approximately forty-seven minutes of sleep in the last few days. His hair is longer than usual, curling behind his ears and the NYPD t-shirt he’s got on has a hole in the right sleeve.

“Swan, I swear to God,” Killian growls as soon as the toes of her boot collide with his ankle again. “If you don’t stop assaulting me, I’m going to--” “--What? What could you possibly threaten me with? Ignoring my requests again?”

“Oh, they’re requests now, are they?” “Obviously,” Emma sneers, and this is not going the way she thought it would at all. She, admittedly, did not think it was going to go great, but the whole thing has been a disaster from the get and she’s averaging less than forty-seven minutes of sleep a night.

“Strangely enough I’m not getting that at all.” “Because you’re being the most difficult person on the planet.” “I really don’t see how that’s true,” Killian argues, and, that time, Emma’s foot comes up against an invisible barricade. The pain ricochets up her thigh, lingering around her knee and there are not enough curses or spells for all the things she wants to do to Killian Jones.

And that, really, is her problem.

Because Emma doesn’t really like Killian, but she doesn’t really hate Killian and she knows he’s the only one who will even consider going along with this plan.

It’s a relatively crazy plan.

“That’s a cheap trick,” she accuses, but he just flashes her a grin and his eyes almost look normal. Emma has no idea what his eyes normally look like.

The lie tastes bitter on her tongue, even without saying it out loud.

“I hate to repeat myself, love, but, again, I really don’t see how that’s true.” “Magician.” “Ah, that’s rude.” “A fact,” Emma growls. He hasn’t taken the barrier down. He’s lifted his eyebrows instead, the smirk settling onto his face like it’s putting down roots. “Listen, I’m going to do this whether you want to help or not, so--”

She’s not entirely sure what happens after that.

It’s a rush of something, magic and feeling and a hint of emotion that may be concern or something fundamentally deeper and far more important than that, but it leaves Emma breathless anyway, mouth falling open as she tries to take it all in. Killian jerks forward, fingers wrapped around Emma’s wrist, like he’s nervous she’s going to start disappearing right then.

She’s fairly certain that’s not how the spell works.

His fingers are impossibly warm.

“I can’t keep doing nothing,” Emma says, voice dropping of its own accord. The words scratch their way out of her, fighting their way to the surface because they’ve been sitting in the pit of her stomach for weeks and Graham didn’t deserve that.

He didn’t deserve to be alone.

He didn’t deserve to die.

Emma is going to fix this. She’s a goddamn witch.

“There’s not anything for you to do, Swan.” “We both know that’s wrong.” Killian sighs, thumb tracing across the back of her wrist. “That’s all speculation. No one’s ever actually done it.” “That you know of.” “You are pulling at straws, love.” “If that’s what I have to do, then, yeah, fine, I’m pulling at straws.” Emma wishes her voice would pick a volume and stick with it. Instead, it cracks over every other syllable, tears welling in the corners of her eyes and stinging retinas that are in desperate need of a set sleep cycle. Killian doesn’t blink. “Graham was a good guy.” “I’m not questioning that. Good is a vast understatement.” “Don’t you want to know what happened?” Emma presses, and she’s starting to sound desperate to her own ears. “It’s...it’s driving me insane. There are too many coincidences for it to be the accident David thinks it is.” For half a second Emma thinks she imagined the next few words out of Killian’s mouth. For half a second she thinks she’s actually delved into complete and utter insanity. For half a second she’s terrified.

But Killian doesn’t blink and his thumb is still pressed flat against her skin and Emma’s lungs are incredibly grateful when she takes a deep breath.

“Say that again,” she whispers.

The smirk turns into a smile. “I feel like we’re going in circles, Swan.” “Killian, c’mon, I--” “--I think it was a witch.” Emma’s entire body sags when she exhales, head colliding with Killian’s chest and she barely considers the fact that he didn’t barricade that before she’s wrapping both her arms around him. She mumbles something into his shirt, nonsense that may just be thank you several dozen times and that doesn’t really make sense, but David wouldn’t listen and Mary Margaret couldn’t listen and Graham did not deserve to die.

Alone.

He died alone.

“Did you tell David that?” Emma mumbles, Killian’s head shake almost audible.

“He’s not interested in that. The department said it was cut and dry. Wrong place, wrong time, and a weak heart, but it was…”

He trails off, Emma’s heart thundering in her ears because she knows how that sentence is going to end. It’s impossible. The medical records don’t make any sense. It wasn’t a heart attack or a stroke or anything remotely human.

It was magical and wrong and Emma is going to fix it.

Before it happens.

“You don’t know this is going to work,” Killian continues, a warning there that Emma ignores.

“I’m more optimistic about it than I was, like, four days ago.” “Why is that?” “Because I tried four days ago and it didn’t work.”

“Emma!”

She jerks back at the sound of her own name, eyebrows furrowed because they’re not friends and he never calls her that, but there’s a desperation to his voice that gives her pause. She bites her lip. “It didn’t work,” Emma repeats. “So, you know...no harm, no foul. Or whatever.” “That’s not whatever. That is…” Killian exhales sharply, tongue flashing between his lips and Emma has to dig her heels into the floor to stop herself from moving. “You can’t do that again, love. Please.” Emma nods slowly, an agreement without considering what she’s agreeing to. She can see the muscles in Killian’s throat move when he swallows though, and he’s going to do damage to his jaw if he holds it any tighter. “I don’t think anyone can do it alone,” she says. “I...it’s not simple magic.” “Because going back in time should be impossible.”

“Not in theory.” “And what happens if it doesn’t work?” Emma shrugs, a flush of fear creeping up her spine and settling at the base of her skull and the magic seems to spark in her fingertips. Killian laces his hand through hers without a word. “That’s why you’re here,” she says, and those words have a weight to them as well, a certainty she didn’t expect, but kind of needs because she’s not entirely what will happen if this doesn’t work.

Killian’s lips twitch. “And you didn’t think to ask David or Mary Margaret?” “David won’t and Mary Margaret can’t. You know that. And…” “And?” “You also know you’re better at magic than both of them. Don’t laugh at me.” “Why would I laugh when you’re complimenting me so nicely, Swan?” Emma flicks his chest, another twist of his eyebrows and quirk of his lips and his fingers are back around her wrist as quickly as if he’d teleported them there. He might have. He’s very good at magic.

He’s very good at everything.

It’s frustrating.

“We can’t just go into this blind, you know,” Killian says. “There’s got to be a plan and an escape route and--” “--And I’ve got that. All of it. Well, most of it.” “Most of it?” “You’re going to be the worst time travel partner, I know it.” “That’s assuming this works.” “It’s really not helping my confidence or my magic that you keep pointing out the likelihood of failure,” Emma mutters, trying to pull her hand back to her side. Killian’s fingers tighten. “The books are clear. It’s all about getting the incantation right and, well, you know...having enough power. I don’t...it didn’t work on my own and you’re the strongest magic I know. So either you agree or you don’t and we just...we never know what happened and we don’t fix it.” Killian considers that for a moment, eyes tracing across Emma’s face like he’s looking for the lie or the inevitable jab at his character. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t say anything. She holds her breath.

He taps his thumb on the back of her wrist again.

“You want to fix it?”

Emma hisses. “Was that not obvious?” “It felt wrong to assume.” “He shouldn’t be dead.” “The world’s not all that interested in that, I’m afraid.” “Yeah, well, fuck the world,” Emma says, and Killian’s eyes widen. “Listen. I…” “Ok.”

She’s positive she imagined it again.

That’s a frustrating habit to have picked up in the last few moments.

Emma gasps, stumbling back at the certainty in those two letters and the force of the magic around them and she’s certain they’re setting off several metaphorical alarm bells to every other being in a hundred-block radius, but ok is echoing between her ears and she’s almost hopeful this will work.

“Ok?” Killian hums. “You’re right. He shouldn’t be dead and I don’t think he died the way we’ve been told. There’s something wrong here. So, if you want to figure it out, then...seems wrong not to help somehow.” “What a gentleman.” “Something like that.”

“Alright,” Emma says, drawing the word out cautiously like she’s nervous he’s going to change his mind. “So, um…” “I’m not particularly interested in time traveling with you immediately, love. And if we’re going to assume our success is based entirely on the strength of our magic, then I’d suggest we aim for a well-placed full moon on Halloween.” “There’s a full moon on Halloween?” “You’re a very observant witch.” Emma clicks her tongue, but he’s also got a point. Several of them. She hopes she doesn’t regret this. She hopes this works.

“Just like that?” Emma asks. “Full moon on Halloween and you’re ready to go back in time and prevent a murder?” “You came to me, Swan.” That’s another point.

Emma’s going to scream. Or curse him. Or something else. Something less aggressive, but possibly just as drastic as cursing.

“Yeah,” she mutters. “I did.” The floor creaks when he moves, stepping away from the doorframe and Emma shudders as soon as his arms wrap around her. It’s like...something or everything and the magic in her veins practically sings, a certainty and confidence and she buries her face against Killian’s chest without asking.

His fingers drift across her spine, tracing between her shoulder blades like he’s following a path he can see and Emma lets her eyes flutter shut. She’s exhausted and worried, but she’s also tired of both of those emotions, and even more tired of seeing Mary Margaret cry and David ignore the possibility that there’s magic in New York they’re not aware of. So Emma doesn’t move, just breathes in the scent of laundry detergent and something that smells a bit like salt and it’s as if time gives them both a second to be.

Just to be.

Emma assumes that means time is on their side.

She appreciates it.

“You can’t tell David or Mary Margaret,” Killian says, the words far too loud in a moment Emma didn’t particularly want to end.  

“No, no, I won’t. They wouldn’t...they’d try to stop us and--” “--I know, love.” Emma doesn’t think he realizes he keeps switching between endearments – he’s got nicknames for everyone, sarcasm and smirks and a distinct lack of sincerity that always seems to fall by the wayside whenever he glances her direction. She’s not sure he realizes that either. And she’s got no idea when she did.

Probably before deciding to time travel with Killian Jones.

“If I say that we should meet at moonrise, are you going to actually make fun of me?” Emma asks, leaning back in just enough time to see his tongue find the corner of his mouth.

“Absolutely.”

“Ok. Good.” “Maybe a few minutes before moonrise. Just to be safe.” “That’s what we’re being? Safe?” Killian nods. “When playing with uncharted magic, yes, but ...you’re right. I think this could work.”

The magic around them grows, strong enough that Emma is surprised she can’t actually see it. She can feel it though, like it’s cracking through the air and weaving between them, connections and knots, all of them twining together and twisting and it’s not as terrifying as it probably should be. It’s comforting.

“Moonrise,” Emma repeats, taking a step back and Killian’s hand falls to his side. “Here?” “Less likely for David or Mary Margaret to appear unannounced, yeah?” There’s something on the edge of his voice, but Emma’s too preoccupied with her pulse and her magic to linger too long on it. She hopes that’s not a mistake. “Yeah,” she agrees. “Ok, so, uh, it’s a date?” Killian chuckles lightly, hair grazing his eyebrows when he nods. “It’s a date, Swan.” 

She sends Mary Margaret and David an email.

In case this doesn’t work.

Or something.

It seems less hokey than taping a note to their apartment door – which is only a few doors away from Emma’s apartment door, but it also feels a little less emotional and a bit more detached and Emma doesn’t bring anything except her phone with her when she walks fifteen blocks to Killian’s building.

He answers on the third knock, a different NYPD shirt and sneakers that look new. There are candles everywhere, more than few stacks of paperwork littering the floor. Emma’s eyes dart around the room, not sure what to land on because she’s now only a little worried they’re going to burn to death before they can even start the spell.

“What the hell is this?” she asks. “And did you buy new shoes?” Killian doesn’t quite glare at her, but it’s an admirable effort. “Why is David already texting me?” “I asked you first.” “This is...not a big deal. Did you tell David and Mary Margaret what you were doing?” “No!” “Swan.” “Not...directly.” “Emma,” Killian groans, and she wishes he would stop doing that. It’s messing with her mind and her center and she needs both of those to be as perfect as possible. Her magic is vibrating, she’s positive.

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now. We are running out of time.” “We are literally trying to time travel. We have more time than we could possibly know what to do with.”

“So then ask me this question when we’re in the past,” Emma mutters. “Did you work on the pronunciation for the spell? That’s important.” “I’ve cast spells before, Swan.” They’re both dancing around each other, deflections and distractions and neither one of those seem entirely appropriate a few minutes ahead of what they’re trying to accomplish, but it’s also the basis for their entire relationship.

Emma wishes her mind would shut the hell up.

She can hear kids laughing on the street below them, trick-or-treaters and humans without any knowledge of the magic that exists around them and sometimes threatens them and if there’s a witch out there killing other beings, then they’ve got a moral obligation to stop it.

Together.

She sighs, a breath of air she probably needs, and it takes less than a full moment for Killian to move into her space. His fingers are still warm when they brush over hers, twisting her hand to place something in her palm.

It’s a moonstone.

“Where did you get this?” Emma asks in disbelief.

“I’ve had it.” “What?” “Hold onto it, ok?” Emma nods slowly, lips suddenly dry because at some point her mind decided to start breathing through her mouth and moonstones are supposed to protect travelers. She doesn’t ask if he has one for himself.

“Alright,” Killian continues, grabbing several candles and moving them around a photo on his coffee table. Emma nearly chokes. It’s the crime scene, police tape obvious and a body even clearer and her vision spins as soon as the realization slams into.

He must feel the shift in her magic because he spins as soon as Emma’s breath hitches, a mumbled hey, hey and something that sounds like it’s alright, love and she nods as soon as his thumb grazes her cheek.

“Fine,” Emma promises. “I’m fine. You seriously know how to say all the words, right? I don’t want to end up, like, in the prehistoric age.” “I highly doubt that’s how it would work, Swan. Plus, every theory I’ve read says if you want to travel, you need visual of where you’re going. We’ve got that.” “You’ve got that. Why do you have that?” The tips of Killian’s ears go red. It’s a tell. It’s been a tell for years. “I already told you. You weren’t the only one with suspicions.” “You’ve been researching this!” “That’s a very dirty-sounding word. I’ve been...looking into it. That’s all.” Emma hums, but that realization seems to crash into her with the force of several eighteen-wheelers and the stone in her hand feels as if it’s vibrating. “Sure,” she says, taking a step around him and it feels like a million miles. “Alright, so we focus on the picture and the moment and--” “--Cast the spell? Yeah, that’s usually how it works.” “I’m going to kill you and leave your body in the past.” “That is violent.” “Happy Halloween.”

Killian barks out a laugh, teeth finding his lower lip. “C’mon, Swan. We’re getting very close to the witching hour.” “That’s not how that phrase works at all.”

“C’mon.”

She doesn’t argue that time, sinking onto the far ground at the far edge of the coffee table. It isn’t easy to keep her eyes away from the photos, but she’s going to lose her nerve if she sees, and Killian is right – it’s time.

“You ready?” he asks, like this wasn’t her idea and Emma nods brusquely, taking his hand when he holds it out. Still warm. “Try to stay in rhythm when we talk. The world likes that, usually.” Emma laughs, but it’s not a joke and her whole body starts to tremble as soon as Killian waves his hand over the candles. The flames jump, a flash of blue light and energy and she knows she’s speaking, can hear her own voice echo around them, but it feels like she’s watching it as well, hovering above the scene like she’s totally detached.

“Buailín, bean an taistealaigh, féachaint ormsa,” Killian says, care on every letter. His fingers don’t leave Emma’s, growing tighter with every moment. Her palm is sweaty, she can feel the moisture, making it difficult to hold her grip, but he doesn’t let go.

She digs her nails into the back of his palm.

“Cibé an bhfuil mé ag taisteal san aer, ar thalamh nó ar muir,” Emma continues.

The flames shift again, a flash of red and anger – the emotion almost palpable in the air, as if the air is angry at them for trying. Emma squeezes her eyes closed, doing her best to fight off the wave of nausea in her stomach, but the smell only gets more potent.

It’s like burned rubber and ashes, disappointment and fury and none of it is right. She’s shaking now, quick jerks that send pain through all of her limbs and into the base of her spine, moisture pooling at the bottom of her neck.

The smell grows.

And Emma gasps when she hears it, a cry of despair that seems to rip across all of time. Her eyes snap open, if only to check that she’s not actually being ripped apart as well. It feels that way, agony and an emptiness that seems to stretch out as far as she can see.

Her eyes widen, trying to find an end, but it only looks more vast the longer she stares ahead, a never-ending wasteland of darkness and nothing.

Alone.

The word flashes in front of her gaze like a neon sign, taunting and Emma shakes her head. It doesn’t move. The feeling grows, blooming in the very center of her chest like there’s a black hole there, and Emma can’t breathe.

She tries to lick her lips or swallow back the cry in her throat, but she feels like she’s standing on the edge of something, any movement certain to leave her falling into the abyss in front of her.

“Swan!” She doesn’t hear it at first. It’s nothing more than a wisp and want, but he yells again and squeezes her hand and Emma grips the moonstone as tightly as she can.

“You’ve got to finish it, love,” Killian says, and, that time, Emma hears him perfectly. “You can do it. I know you can.”

Emma shakes her head. “I don’t…”

“I’m not going anywhere, Swan. You’ve got to say the words.”

“Cosúil le talisman--” she starts.

“--i mo phóca clochfaidh mé.”

His hand never leaves hers. And everything goes dark.

Emma wakes with a start, eyes scanning the room and there’s no one there.

She sits up slowly, wincing at the ache in her right palm and her fingers barely unclench. There’s a moonstone in her hand.

“Oh shit,” Emma breathes. “It worked.”

It takes her a frustratingly long amount of time to figure out where she is, her apartment looking almost foreign without the empty takeout containers and piles of half-finished laundry she’d accumulated in the weeks after Graham’s death.

She shouldn’t be in her apartment.

She should be in Killian’s apartment.

She should–– “Oh shit,” she hisses again, leaping out of bed and wobbling as soon as her feet hit the floor. “Killian! Killian, are you here?” Silence.

Painful, vaguely terrifying silence.

“Killian?” Emma hates how small her own voice sounds, but bits and pieces are starting to come back and she’s not sure this worked the way she thought it would. Something about this is wrong. There shouldn’t have been that noise or those feelings, a flash of magic Emma is certain wasn’t hers. Or Killian’s.

Killian.

She jumps at the knock on the door, a quick rap of knuckles that’s practically exuding impatience. Emma swallows, tapping her fingers against the pajama pants she’s inexplicably wearing. Oh. Oh.

They hadn’t gone back to the crime scene, but they’d gone back to the day. And Emma had woken up in her apartment wearing pajama pants with a snowflake pattern on them because Mary Margaret had bought them for her last Christmas. It was a very bad joke.

The knock is louder the second time.

Emma twists her wrist, magic crackling between her fingers as she jogs towards the door. He’s halfway to a third knock when she swings it open.

“Swan,” Killian mutters, a note of wonder in his voice and she belatedly realizes it might be the first time he’s seen inside her apartment. They’re not really friends.

“Hey.” It’s an absurd response, all things considered, but Emma’s brain is firing a mile a minute and her magic is moving even quicker and she’s not entirely prepared for the look on Killian’s face. His entire expression shifts down, lips falling and shoulders sagging.

She’s almost surprised there’s not some soft of blue aura around him, just to really drive the point home.

“Oh,” he nods. “Ok, I um--”

He moves to walk away, which really is almost more absurd than Emma’s hey, but then she waves her hand and he crashes into an invisible wall that wasn’t there two seconds before. Emma assumes that means she’s won.

“Don’t,” she says. “Don’t...don’t go. Please.” Killian turns around slowly, the heel of his hand rubbing his jaw. “Did you just magic a wall for me to run into?” “I wasn’t really thinking.” “Yuh huh.” “Were you...were you thinking? When you came over here?” “You’re doing a rather abysmal job of beating around the bush here, Swan.”

Emma scoffs, waving her hand again so no one else is injured by her invisible wall. In the past. They’re in the past. “That’s because I’m not entirely sure of the rules.” “I think we’ve broken right by all of those, don’t you?” “Look who’s beating around the bush now,” Emma accuses, reaching forward to stab a finger into his chest before she can reconsider it. His fingers curl around her elbow, another expression that she’s possibly hoarding or recording for posterity, and she can’t think when his tongue drags across his lips. “What exactly do you remember?” “About time traveling with you?” “Oh my God.” “Enough that I realized where we were when I woke up this morning. I’m going to go ahead and assume you remember too?” Emma nods. “That was…” “Horrendous?” “Yeah, something like that.” “Did you hear the screaming?” Emma asks, but one glance at Killian’s face is enough of an answer. “I didn’t expect that.” “Neither did I. And I don’t think it was time.” That catches her by surprise. “What? What was it then?” “I think it was the person who killed Graham.” Emma’s eyes widen, and she’s glad Killian is in front of her so she can rest her palm flat against his chest. “But that noise. That wasn’t--” “--We didn’t think it was human, love.”

“That didn’t sound like a witch,” Emma argues. “That sounded like...I don’t even know what. Every horrible thing in the world. That can’t be right.” “If you’ve got another suggestion, I’m all ears.” Emma scowls. She doesn’t have another suggestion. She’s got negative suggestions. “You want some coffee?” And, really, she shouldn’t be keeping track, but Killian’s face keeps doing things and responding to her and he hasn’t tried to move her hand away from him. So, she adds that expression to the list she’s only maybe kind of keeping and tries to smile like any of this is normal and Killian’s step is almost steady when he crosses the threshold.

He puts four spoonfuls of sugar in his coffee.

And they try to come up with a plan.

It’s a garbage plan. It’s a garbage, shit, terrible plan and Emma can’t help the whimper that falls out of her as soon as Killian’s phone goes off, David’s frantic voice on the other end because Graham’s dead and they’ve done all this before.

David only looks a little stunned when they show up at the crime scene together.

“What the…” he mumbles, shaking his head like it’s all a dream and Emma wishes it was.

She and Killian had left her apartment hours earlier, patrolling the twenty blocks around where Graham was found. There wasn’t anything. No clues. No nothing. Everything exactly where it was supposed to be.

And Graham looked even more pale in person than in the photos.

Emma turned on the spot, head colliding with the jut of Killian’s shoulder as he tried to tug her closer to his side.

David’s eyes were going to fall out of his head.

“What the hell is happening right now?” he demands. “How the hell did you get here so fast? How did both of you get here?” Killian ignores all three questions. “What’s your gut reaction to this?” “What?” “Your gut reaction, Nolan. Now!” David flinches at the acid in Killian’s voice, gaze flitting from his partner to Emma and back again. It reminds her of a pinball machine. “The coroner thinks it’s a heart attack,” David mumbles. “No outward signs of struggle and no witnesses and--” “--That’s not what I asked.” “What the hell are you getting at? You’re making it sound like you’re looking for something nefarious here.”

Killian sighs, letting his cheek rest on the top of Emma’s head. They’re not friends. They’re not friends. They’re time-travel partners. Who failed. Completely. And immediately.

David appears to be choking.

“You’ve got to tell me what’s going on with you two.”

Both Killian and Emma ignore that as well.

“There wasn’t anything, David?” she asks instead. “Nothing suspicious?” “Should there be?” “I don’t know.” “Sure you don’t.” Emma rolls her eyes, falling back on tried and true when nothing feels like that. Killian’s arm tightens around her shoulders. “What was Graham doing here?” Emma presses. “We’re not anywhere near his apartment.” “It’s a city, Em. People go out. Right?” She’s positive he doesn’t mean for that last question to sound as unsure as it does, but the world appears to be playing one long trick-or-treat joke on her and Emma can feel the tears on her cheeks. “Yeah, I guess,” she mutters.

Her eyes dart back towards Graham, though, medics and the coroner and she can dimly make out the crinkle of a body bag unfolding. Killian's mumbling in her ear, quiet promises and assurances that don’t make any sense at all, particularly with David glowering at both of them.

“There wasn’t anything, Swan,” Killian says, not for the first time that day.

“That is impossible.” He chuckles against her hair. “Yeah, that seems to be the theme.”

“We didn’t do anything. We didn’t change a single thing.” “What?” David shouts, drawing the attention of several uniform officers. He waves them off, shifting on his feet and one of the streetlights above them flickers.

“Don’t do that,” Killian warns. His fingers are moving now, tiny semi circles on Emma’s shoulder that seem as natural as the breathing she desperately needs to do.

“I’m not doing anything. Why did you get here so fast?” “We were in the area.” “We?” Killian glares, turning Emma on the spot and resting both hands on her arms. She feels kind of dizzy. She assumes that’s a byproduct of time travel. It’s probably not.

It’s definitely not.

“Maybe we were wrong, love.” “You are lying to me,” Emma hisses. “Right to my face. You know this wasn’t a heart attack.” David curses again, stomping his foot for good measure. Emma doesn’t blink. Killian inhales sharply. “I don’t think we did it right, Swan,” he says, soft and cautious like speaking too loudly will make it real.

“Did what right?” “That noise. Whatever it was. It shouldn’t have been there. And I think it’s got something to do with us. And Graham.” Emma sighs, an agreement sitting on the tip of her tongue. She doesn’t say it. She’s far too busy crying.

Killian doesn’t flinch – again. Just lets her head crash into his chest and holds onto her, ignoring whatever sounds David is making as several different police officers try to get them to move. There’s a gurney working its way through the crime scene.

“C’mon, Swan,” Killian says. “I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”

She lets him direct her back towards her apartment, never asking how he knows about hot chocolate or the cinnamon she sprinkles on top. She sits in the corner of her couch, crying even after the tears stop falling.

And they don’t try to come up with another plan.

There’s not anything to say.

Something is wrong.

They just don’t know what.

Emma has no idea what time it is when her eyes start to flutter, but it must be close to midnight, Killian shifting slightly next to her. Her heart stutters. “Hey, hey,” she says sharply, grasping at the side of his jeans like he’s about to disappear. “Don’t...um, don’t go. Please.” He turns slowly, staring at her with an expression she’ll probably think about every time she wakes up and just before she goes to sleep.

He nods.

“Yeah, ok, Swan.”

She falls asleep easily, her head on Killian’s thigh and his fingers toying with the ends of her hair and it’s almost enough that Emma doesn’t hear the scream as soon as the clock in her kitchen ticks twelve.

Emma wakes with a start, eyes scanning the room and there’s no one there.

She blinks, the frustrating sense of familiarity tugging at the back of her brain. There shouldn’t be anyone there. She’s home. In her apartment. Where she lives. Alone.

It’s...she can’t remember what day it is.

The phone on her nightstand is already ringing, a flash of color and vibrations and Emma hates the little lurch her heart makes when she notices the name.

Killian Jones.

She nearly knocks the phone on the ground in an effort to pick it up, slamming it against her ear. “Hi,” she says, and it comes out like a sigh.

“Hi.” “What day is it?” “My phone claims it’s September 12th.” Emma drops her phone.

She yanks the blankets away from her legs, staring wide-eyed at the pajamas she’s wearing again. Or still. Or, maybe, again. Words get confusing when time travel is involved.

And Emma has never hated a joke Christmas gift more in her entire life.

“Fuck.”

He’s yelling her name into the phone, loud enough that it nearly makes Emma laugh because the whole thing is absurd and impossible and they probably should have discussed leaving the past more. Emma just assumed it would...happen.

Magically.

God.

“Swan?” “Yeah, yeah,” Emma mutters, nearly falling out of the bed as she gets her phone back to her ear. “Still here.” “So, uh, it appears we’ve done a few things wrong here, love.” “You can say that again.” “Was that a joke?” “Not an intentional one.” Killian hums, and Emma pinches the bridge of her nose, the threat of a headache pulsing behind her left eye. “Ok,” she continues. “So. What do we do? Are we sure it’s still September 12th?” “I really doubt my phone would lie to me. Or NY1.” “NY1 is incapable of lying. Did he read the newspapers?” “Same as they were yesterday.” “Holy shit.” “Those were my sentiments exactly.”

“What do we do?” Killian makes a noise, not quite words and something that sounds a hell of a lot like confusion. “Try to find something again? Maybe it’s a gift from the universe?” “That seems like an awfully chipper mindset.” “Ah, the power of positive thinking. Also I just watched the same news story about a school in Crown Heights that’s getting its first-ever playground for the second time in as many days and it’s done wonders to my mindset about the world.” Emma laughs, easy and normal. She imagines Killian smiles. “You want to come over and drink more of my coffee and come up with a plan that, this time, doesn’t suck?” “I thought you’d never ask, Swan.” 

 It takes a full week before Emma believes the plan is impossible.

The plan continues to suck. Or sucks even more and Emma is standing next to Killian at a crime scene she’s certain she can describe in minute detail at this point.

For the seventh straight day.

David stormed away from them in a huff five minutes before – as soon as Killian growled walk away, Detective when David spotted his fingers wrapped around Emma’s – and no one’s paid them a second glance since. They’re standing stock still, a few inches of space between them, but Killian hasn’t tried to move his hand and Emma is gripping it like several metaphorical anchors.

She wonders why Graham looks so pale if it was a heart attack.

It wasn’t a heart attack.

“At what point do we just throw in the white flag?” Emma asks, not taking her eyes away from the coroner. His name is Victor. They learned that on the third day.

Killian turns towards her slowly, eyes frustratingly blue and decidedly distracting. His expression is unreadable. “Why would we do that?”

“There’s nothing here, Killian. We’ve searched every corner within fifty blocks. Nothing has changed. We haven’t done anything.” Emma’s voice cracks on the last word, an anger she’d been doing her best to avoid. And neither one of them have acknowledged the very real possibility that they may be stuck on September 12th for the rest of their lives.

They’ve got no escape plan.

She should have prepared better. She thought her magic would react better. Her magic, however, seems to be at the crux of Emma’s problems. It’s as if it’s developed its own rhythm in the last few days, a tide that’s coursing through every inch of her, warming her from the inside out and keeping her slightly off-kilter. It boils under her skin, a determination to do something because they haven’t talked about that noise either.

The noise that pounds in Emma’s memory and lingers on the edge of her consciousness every single night. At midnight. Every single night.

“Maybe there isn’t anything to do,” Killian whispers, and Emma doesn’t miss the defeat there.

“Hence my white flag joke.” “You’ve got a habit of making very poorly timed jokes, love.” “It’s a very misplaced defense mechanism. I think it drives Mary Margaret insane.” “I sincerely doubt that.” She doesn’t need the rush of feeling shooting down her arm to know he means it, the honestly in his voice strong enough to permanent damage to the space-time continuum. He nearly smiles when she meets his gaze.

“That was nice,” Emma mutters.

“It happens from time to time.” She nods, pulse fluttering and Killian’s eyebrows shift when he feels the change in her magic. “I don’t know what we’re missing. There’s got to be something. What did we do wrong?” “I don’t know.” “I”ll be honest and tell you that’s not the answer I was hoping for.”

He laughs, more than a little sarcastic, and for one absolutely, insane moment Emma is certain he’s going to kiss her. He stares at her like he’s about to, eyes tracing over her face and lingering for a moment on her lips, but then he blinks and it’s over and they’re still stuck in some weird Groundhog Day situation with no new clues and a terrifying shriek to end every day.

She probably wouldn’t have argued the kiss.

The corner has to ask them to move out of the way of the gurney.

God.

“I think we’ve got some time to figure it out, Swan.” “Was that a joke?” “Probably worse than yours, right?” “Decidedly.” Killian grins, not quite as exhausted as it’s been while they’ve been chasing ghosts and possible magic and Emma chews on her lip to remind herself that they’re not really friends. She can’t figure out why he agreed to help her.

She can’t figure out how he’s not furious she’s inadvertently trapped them in the past.

“Hot chocolate?” he asks, and Emma nods out of habit and want. Killian’s smile widens. “Good. I’ve got some theories about marshmallow to chocolate ratio I want to test out.”

They eventually decide that the optimum number of marshmallows in a coffee mug is seven, which seems kind of arbitrary, but Killian is quick to point out that it’s magical, Swan and Emma is willing to be charmed. So she doesn’t argue.

And she doesn’t say anything when, this time, he slides down next to her on the couch, pulling her flush against his chest with an arm around her waist and her hair in his eyes.

It’s comforting, safe and warm and a slew of positive adjectives that are probably as impossible as getting out of whatever loop they’re in because Emma’s breath catches as soon as her eyes close and the sound echoes off the walls of her apartment.

He finds her hide-a-key the next morning, letting himself into her apartment with a smile and coffee in hand. Emma blinks sixteen times at the sight.

“You’ve got to move that, Swan,” Killian says, groaning when he almost hands her his over-sugared coffee. “It took me almost no time to find.” “You’re a cop. And magic. You are literally made to find secret things.” “Made?” “Ask me that question again after I’ve finished the coffee.” Killian chuckles, dropping onto the edge of Emma’s bed. She watches him over the top of her coffee cup, a forced energy and certainty that should probably grate on her nerves more. She finds it kind of endearing.

Mostly because she’s kind of hoping he’s doing it for her.

She’s, like, seventy-five percent positive he’s doing it for her.

“What’s your deal?” Emma asks, and Killian arches an eyebrow.

“I saw that Crown Heights story again today.” “And?” “And I think we should take a day off from crime-fighting.” “What?” “I think you heard me the first time, love,’ he drawls, letting his hand rest on her outstretched leg. “And if we’re going to be stuck here for awhile, then we’ve got some time to...do other things.” “That’s insane.”

“No,” Killian shakes his head. “That’s practical.” “How you figure?” “You hear the noise last night?”

Emma nearly chokes on her coffee, Killian’s expression turning serious. “Yeah, I did,” she says. “It sounded worse, didn’t it?” “Like it was getting ripped apart. So I think we’ve got to change our approach, Swan. We’ve exhausted this avenue of the search, it’s time to find something different.” “By ignoring the search completely.” “Yes, exactly that. You ever been to Veselka?”

“The pierogi place?” “I think they have other things besides pierogies,” Killian argues, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and it would be really nice to not spend an entire day thinking about death. “But the pierogies are supposed to be legendary. Or so the rumors say.” “You’ve never been there?”

The question lingers in the air around them, buoyed by mutual magic and possible hope and Emma burns her tongue when she all but gulps down the rest of her coffee. Killian shakes his head again.

“Not once. But I’ve got a deep appreciation of Polish food.”

Emma scoffs, still charmed. Consistently. For the past week. Despite the lingering scent of death. “I really like the idea of a mass quantity of potatoes stuffed into some kind of pasta thing.”

“It’s a date then.” “Is this you picking me up?” “Something like that.” Killian stands up, offering a hand and another smile, or possibly the same smile, and Emma’s going to let him move her hide-a-key. “Get showered and we’ll go. A whole day of doing things we’ve never done.” “You’re very optimistic.” He doesn’t answer, but Emma thinks she hears him say something like that again as she turns on the water and they order every single pierogi option Veselka offers. The waitress looks at them like they’re insane.

They honestly might be.

Oh hey, there’s a second chapter. It’s also on Ao3. 

[nishibishi]

JEON JUNGKOOK FIC-RECS:- Series List (1)

Hello, wonderful people. So I'm finally here after a pretty long time, what more can I say, I've been so busy with my academics and all. It sucks to be a high schooler. So basically after seeing BTS updating their MBTI types, I thought maybe I should take the test again and IT TURNS OUT TO ISFP-T!!! AND AM I NOT SURPRISED TO SEE THE SIMILARITIES? I would suggest y'all to take the MBTI TEST on truity.com as well. You can message me about your personality types as well, as I would definitely love to get to know y'all better.

NOW getting to the point. I bring you all a fic-recs list featuring none other our golden mak-nae, and my bias wrecker, Jeon Jungkook.

Again, I would like to inform you that none of these wonderful masterpieces involve my underwhelming talent of writing and imagination, they solely belong to their respective owners, who've put their everything into these work of fiction to make them so beautiful and memorable. I'm merely an admirer, a fan, a dreamer who loves to indulge in the world of fantasy for an escape from reality. I would highly recommend you all, to go through their master-lists and give them your love and support. Happy reading!!!

WARNING:-

MOST OF THESE ONE-SHOTS WILL BE 18+ (mentions of any mental unrest, mentions of any death, blasphemy, infidelity, mentions of blood, and explicit smut)- MINORS SHOULD STRICTLY NOT INTERACT.

LEGENDS:-

a - angst ; f - fluff ; m - mature ; s - supernatural ; d - drama ; h - humor

From Home (m) by @gyukult (a, f, s, h) [rich-kid, fake dating]

Jeon Jung-kook knows that he's rich as fuck. and oh god, he knows EVERYTHING about his typical spoilt ways of showing it off. But when his loving mother decides to kick him out of their estate, to make him more responsible and self-dependent, he is determined. To earn his position back. Thanks to you, child prodigy, who might make his plans easier.

I have had my pleasure of that very old concept o rich-falling-for-poor-and-family-backlashes. But the concept of THIS VERY FIC, oh lord, has astounded me to the core. The comic timing, the intriguing differences between the characters' family background, the phantom expectations and the bitter realities. A must read!!!!

After Midnight (m) by @gyukult (a, f, h, d) [casual relationship]

After the announcement of your little sister tying knot with the love of her life, you realize that it's high time for you to break ties with your fuckbuddy Jungkook, and finally get settled down with someone more of a husband material guy. But it's unfair for Jungkook for two reasons: one, you're a doctor, and two, will he ever find a pussy that bomb?

Dude, no review will ever be able to describe how PERFECT this fic is. I've never ever seen such a perfect fuckboy characterization written for Jungkook. He's perfectly sweet, stupid, sexy and dude, his comic timing just when the OC's practicality begins to empower him, oh lord. My favorite. Period.

Animal (m) by @cutaepatootie (a, f, d) [boxer, hate-to-love]

Lying on a hospital bed in his 60s, Jungkook recounts his past life. The one where his ruthlessness, his recklessness, his rudeness, every negative aspect of his life, was brightened with the solitary feeling of love. The love, which he had for you.

If I ever try to write a single word about this fic in its appreciation, I just end up crying a flood of tears. Be ready to have a box of tissue beside you before reading this masterpiece. A touching tale of love, hate and grief. A must read.

Let Me Stay Close To You by @9uk (a, d) [bullying, college-life]

When your high-school bully Jungkook re-enters your life as your college mate AND your partner for project, you cannot help but fear his intentions. But for Jungkook, it's all different. A drastic difference that makes his heart pace faster than the light's speed.

This fic is the far-most gut wrenching story portraying Jungkook in a not-so-typical setting and shade. Even though the ending of the fic somewhat falls out and becomes exhausting, it is still virtuous in its glory. A good take with a new perspective.

Knife's Edge (m) by @readyplayerhobi (a, f, d) [mafia, infidelity] ft. Jimin

Ever since your scarred childhood, you have known about your marriage with Jungkook in future, with you leading a life in a hellhole forever. And you're alright since you've got Jungkook beside you. But one night, everything changes when you end up laying your eyes upon Jimin, who promises comfort and love upon his arrival.

I know. Jimin is my bias, I should be rooting for him but oh lord, the mafia!jungkook takes it all for me to fuck the shit outta OC for going astray, dude. I'm speechless, so no words. Just dive right in!!

Falling Skies (m) by @fortunexkookie (a, f, d) [childhood friends]

The art of permanence isn't your cup of tea; despite that, your best friend, Ji-yeon and her twin brother, Jungkook, are irreplaceable to you. Ji-yeon, garnering all your love and Jungkook, garnering all your annoyance. You cannot endure Jungkook, that's for sure. But one unexpected catastrophe it takes, for you to realize what Jungkook is to you in a true sense.

The twin thing concept was very new to me, and reading this fic reminded of Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami, both focusing on loss, emptiness, love, coping and the following hardships. One of the best fics I've read. A must read.

I hate you, I love you (m) by @jungblue (a, f, d) [best friends]

You have been through every phase and feeling of your life with Jungkook: enemies, friends and best friend forever. Too bad, and too late, you ended up catching feelings for him when he had already committed himself to someone who's not you.

Cute, Sexy, Lovely. GO AND READ THIS ASAP!!!

Innocence (m) by @monoguk (a, h, f) [one sided love, fuckboy]

For you, the concept of sex is flabbergasting but for Jungkook, that is the only thing his world revolves about. But once he falls for you innocence, nothing even as impeccable as sex can enamor him anymore.

It's not completed yet but dude, have not fallen in love with the simple and cute dynamics of it? A must read!!!!

True Care (m) by @joonsgalaxy (a, h, d, f) [bodyguard, family issues]

Your new bodyguard, Jungkook is no way similar to your father's bodyguard. He's young, cute (did I say hot?) and shy. Two of you together navigate through the hardships of each other's life and create a bond, safeguarding each other from one inevitable thing: love.

Oh lord, this one fic stays in my heart forever. The accurate representation of the very Jungkook we know. How delightful! Moreover, I just loved the way the OC was written: bold, practical and sensitive. Just dive right in!!

The Brothel (m) by @plumblackjeon (a, d) [unrequited love, rich kid]

In the eyes of society, Jeon Jungkook is a typical rich brat, spending his nights in brothels, getting wasted. But when you find him intoxicated in the corridor of your apartment, you can't help but find his true self, even if that means wandering into the brothel.

I don't know if this fic was supposed to be a one shot, but it snapped something in me. I've never felt so gut-wrenched after reading a fic. It made me rethink a lot about my opinions and ideas about the nightlife. It also gave me glimpses of After Dark by Haruki Murakami and reminded me of a song named lovememore. by dosii.

Astonishing and dark, a must read.

So that is it guys. Do let me know about your own opinions about these fics or any other fics that you want to recommend me. Happy Reading!!!

[shakespearefreak]

A Christmas Carol Aftermath: Tim

Less than a fortnight after Ebenezer Scrooge passed into the next world, Emily Cratchit fell ill. She had not been well for months, but now she could barely leave her bed. The doctor said there was nothing that could be done but pray for a miracle.

Threatened with the impending loss of his mother on the heels of the death of his dear friend, Tim Cratchit — now a fine young man, hale and healthy (save a slight limp he would forever walk with) — began to slip into despair. He spent less time at home, throwing himself into work (he was a ’prentice at the firm now run by his father and Fred). He was brief with his wife, cold to his son, and snapped at Fred when he gently suggested he take some time off to process his grief.

Ebenezer was distraught. He remembered far too well how the death of his sister had shaped his own life, and he saw echoes of his past regrets in Tim’s behaviour. One day, he voiced an idea that had been growing in his mind to Jacob.

“Couldn’t I visit him?”

Jacob sighed as if he had been expecting the question, and hadn’t looked forward to it. “Ebenezer…” he said carefully, with a gentleness anyone who had known him in life would not have recognized in him, “what happened that night was… not typical. It took years of pleading your case, of effort on Fan’s part and mine, and even then, if you hadn’t had such a large part to play in so many lives…”

“You’re the one who said…” Ebenezer frowned, trying to remember, “‘anyone working kindly in his little sphere will find his mortal life too short for his vast means of usefulness,’ isn’t that right?”

Jacob sighed again. “It is. But Ebenezer…”

“I don’t mean we’d need to visit Tim’s past and future, I just want to give him an assurance that… that death is not the end, that I am still watching over him, that—” but he stopped there, because Jacob was shaking his head forcefully. “Well, why not?” Ebenezer challenged.

“Because…” Jacob thought a long time, weighing his words, “…because it doesn’t work that way, Eb.”

“How do you know?”

Jacob huffed. “If help were so forthcoming every time a soul was in distress, don’t you think someone would have come to my aid? For that matter, why should you have grown old without intervention, if it were that easy? Don’t you think if Fan could have come to see you, she would, and saved you years of bitterness, saved the world around you years of the cruelty born of your grief?” Jacob heard the harshness in his own words and checked himself.

Ebenezer looked down at his hands, chastened. “I… you are right, of course. I just… I don’t see why.”

Jacob’s eyes softened, and he gave a small, sad smile. “Nor do I, honestly. But one thing I do know is that Tim will be fine.”

“How do you know that?”

“Ebenezer, when you were a young man, you didn’t have anyone to turn to, save myself, and lord knows I was a poor enough example.” Jacob gave a remorseful half-smile. “The lessons your father imparted were those of cruelty and fear, and those I gave you were of power and greed, and of taking from the less fortunate. But Tim… he has his father, his brothers and sisters, his wife and child, and the lessons you gave him growing up. He is surrounded by love, and examples of a different sort of power: the power of kindness, of charity, and of Hope. You taught him well; now you need to have faith in that, and in him. Do you truly believe he needs the sort of intervention that you’re suggesting?”

It was Ebenezer’s turn to sigh. “…No. No, I know him better than that. I just… I miss him, I suppose.” Jacob laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “And… well, I miss being useful. During the last years of my life, I discovered that not only did I have a responsibility to others, but the joy of fulfilling it. And now… I’m happy, don’t mistake me! I cherish the time I spend with you, with Fan, and getting to know my mother at last. But… Jacob, I cannot express how wonderful it felt to make a difference, for the better! Can this really be all there is to being a spirit? Just watching, from a distance, unable to affect the lives of mortals?” He looked up to see Jacob beaming at him. “…What?”

“I’d been hoping you might say something like that. No, that is not all there is to being a spirit. There is so much work yet to be done, and I would be grateful to have my partner’s aid.”

“What do you mean?” Ebenezer asked, mystified but excited.

Jacob held out his hand. “Would you do me the honour of coming with me to see?”

...

Also in this series: “A Joyful Reunion” “Fan” Marley’s Grave

DISCLAIMER: A Christmas Carol is a public domain work. However, these vignettes were also inspired by several other works, including “A Conspiracy of Spirits: The Love Story of Jacob Marley and Ebenezer Scrooge” in The Solstice Tales by @wolfenm, Jacob T. Marley by R. William Bennet, and the play Jacob Marley’s Christmas Carol by Tom Mula. All these works belong to their respective owners, not to me.

AUTHOR’S NOTES: Yes, I am aware it's January. No, I don't care.

I can't really claim this one as a proper stand-alone vignette, but whatever.

Also, I'm not sure if this is going to come up again later or not, but for anyone worrying about Tim or Emily: Emily did in fact recover, and lived for a couple more years, though her health was always poor. Tim pulled himself together, as Jacob had predicted, with the help of his support network, both living and spiritual.

Also available on AO3, DeviantArt, and FF.net

[stargirlwnchstr]

I have a visual to share with y'all. Say welcome to my long ass 'The Foxes + tiktok' headcanon

@ nickythefox_es (part 1???)

Basically Nicky gets tiktok but all of the foxes show up eventually and just use his profile.

• Most of the videos are with nicky and allison, also matt and dan and occasionally neil.

• Allison and nicky learn so many dances.

• Their duet of make his pockets hurt with Mariah and Zane from the vlog squad is the first one to go v i r a l.

• Yeah most of their followers know them but some and a lot of the comments are non exy fans that just watch them because they're cool

• So many of the "what is exy" "stickball game??" "dont even bother explaining to me what is the sport they play I dont care I'm just here for neil." And related comments get a liked from creator (andrew told nicky to like them)

•The "Oh my god she's coming." "I'm so afraid of her." Audio are the twinyards and nicky shows up, he had to bribe them to be a part of that one.

• They post another version but it's Kevin that enters and Allison and Nicky talking

• So many comments thirsting over them and calling matt and dan parents

• "the real bisexual struggle is simping for matt and dan in the same tiktok." -> liked from creator nickythefox_es commented/replied: ASDGFKSSDWADKWB

• Someone makes a 'put a finger down: Neil Josten edition' and nicky drags him to do it. They both smile as they listen to the prompts and Neil obviously puts all his fingers down but they're like "put a finger down if you clapbacked/if you bad mouthed someone (bonus points if it was on national tv)" "put a finger down if you're under 6 feet" "put a finger down if you love exy" and the last one just says "put a finger down if andrew minyard." Neil does and smiles at someone off camera. Needless to say it goes viral as well. A few weeks after nicky gets verified.

• Allison becomes friends with thenavarose and wisdom sorry I dont make the rules (they're fashion tiktokers)

• They make a series of rating each of the foxes throughout the day, including one of Wymack.

• They do receive bad comments, from bitter ravens fans or just recalling their pasts and nicky sits down and makes a video telling everyone about how they do this videos for fun they dont need hate and negative comments on their videos and all that

• Then another one posted minutes after, neil comes in and nicky says "okay neil you have one minute. Rant off." And neil goes on this rant like how they already hit Rock bottom a single comment is not gonna hurt them and "do you get how insignificant and meaningless your lives must be? You took the time to write and post a comment that you thought was gonna cause an impact and failed. Also thanks for the comments though it helps nicky stay on the algorithm." NICKY SCREECHES AND THE VIDEO ENDS WITH THEM SMILING

• Allison vlogs neil and her going shopping or thrifting also cutting Neil's hair

• *neil walks into the room wearing his orange bandana* *camera moves and zooms on Andrew's face* he doesnt lip sync but the song sings "oh noo I think I'm catching feelings" andrew tells him to delete it "but it already has thousands of likes andrew"

• They post some of their work out routines per request

• One of them is the fast and "I'm spinning like a ballerina" chill of neil just running on the treadmill and doing sprints and squats and leg stuff while it cuts to allison doing a bit of everything but looking like a queen on a matching set.

• A fun one that goes viral for "vine energy" is: it's very quiet on the court and Kevin, very in the zone, throws the ball to the goal, which Andre's catches easily and almost without moving. The camera goes back to kevin as he screeches and let's himself fall on the ground. Neil is standing beside him shaking his head and looking at the goal with a smile on his face.

• They try to teach neil the dances but while filming one of them he just leaves. They post it either way.

• They're in the bus, nicky is on selfie mode and says "it is game day my dudes" he turns and shows the whole bus S C R E A M S, in the corner Wymack is covering his face.

• The iconic "they say drunk thoughts are sober words" or something like that and it cuts to a series of videos of the foxes drunk af. Example: Nicky grabbing Allison's face and saying 'Remember. Bread. Head. Leave.' And allison nodding.

• Nicky films kevin standing up and put the "do you ever wonder what is going on inside their head?" And it cuts to pictures of racquets and exy and Jeremy Knox and one that says history stuff.

• Another one that goes viral is kevin very seriously and p e r f o r m i n g, rapping Jefferson's side of the cabinet battle #1 from Hamilton then towards the end andrew stands up in front of him and with his iconic bored expression he starts rapping Hamilton's part. Behind the camera there's a soft "...oh my gOD" and kevin is shocked eyes widen open and then the camera zooms on Neil who's mouth is open in shock but GRINNING and ~impressed~

• Dan and matt do The challenge, you know the one that like has to flip them over and all that and they ace it, nicky points the camera to where andrew and neil are stating and Andrew says no.

• A few minutes later another video of the challenge is posted only this time is matt and neil.

• Nicky and allison are in full gear filming a dance video (maybe savage or captain hook) on the court and someone films them filming that and then Wymack looking at them SO disappointed cut to Wymack with nicky's phone, having confiscated it and nicky besides him "coach, it's cardio!"

• Hours spent trying trick shots

• Foxes: "get back! Move!" Ravens: "Let me in! I be the I g g y!" Trojans: "Oh my God do no let her in" Foxes: "I am trying!"

• Nicky lying down: "okay but someone needs to tell me how old is the shirtless pottery guy. I can't be part of another controversy. It's for science c'mon. *debby Ryan's*"

• Someone comments "he's eighteen. Simp away, nicky." And he makes a video with his feet swinging and smiling. Aaron gets on the frame and says "we are deeply in need of some bowls." The caption: hi @ papapots

• They are verified so obviously he gains a couple of thousands followers and he duets smiling and with a package in his arms. Text: thanks for the support (and hi new followers from sport side of tiktok hope you enjoy my pots) caption: hi @ nickthefox_es I got you aaron.

• After the package comes they duet it with nicky screaming and showing off the goods and then he moves stop show andrew eating ice cream out of one of them. Caption: AJSNEPWLDKSS THANK YOU DAX

• Allison and nicky do the "I love you!" "No you dont topper! You love the idea of me. You love being seen with me but you dont love me." But nicky is Sarah and allison is topper. Next day the obx ig page reposted it "we stan the psu foxes pogues for life." And chase stokes posts it on Twitter saying "yoo the palmetto foxes watch??? my show???" Nicky takes a screenshot and on green screen he says "hi chase!! We do! The whole team binged it. Currently we've been debating who of us is going to dress up as pogues for Halloween." A lot of voices start arguing and as nicky is gonna enter the debate the video cuts.

• Allison does the facetime *deep male voice says hey* prank on them. Neil doesnt react. Nicky doesnt look up from his phone but does the finger thing and says "get that d, allison!" Dan and renee look at each other and then at allison and she bursts out laughing.

• aaron studying to be a doctor: *two plus two is four etc sound* andrew (eating pretzels from the bag while watching a game show lying down in a bean bag) and his eiditic memory [basically not needing to study]: *three is a magic number sound*

• Nicky runs through the court and enters the lounge beside the photo wall there's a poster he shows the camera as the sounds says it "alive ahaha fuck"

• Somehow they convince all of them to show up and do the wipe it down trend that ends up with wymack throwing the towel at the mirror.

• Comment: so how many members of the team listen to girl in red or sweater weather? Nicky stands there with the color filter: 👁👄👁👉👈 caption: yes❤

• He gets neil to duet to the whole "british people be like". "Neil I'm not british." "Part of you is so just read the tweets." He does and the comments are all thirst and simping

• Comment: raise your hand if you've been victimized by neil josten. Where my fellow Simps at? (The comment gets hundreds of thousands of likes) they make a video, everyone on the team except aaron who walks out raises their hand as the sound says "welcome to simp nation" kevin rolls his eyes but raises his, says something that nicky captions "i simp over his exy skills". andrew doesn't at first, but next to him neil whispers something and after andrew says yes, neil grabs Andrew's forearm and raises it. Andrew looks away and neil smiles.

• Nicky lying down: okay but what if Jean moreau traded places with the french guy from here you know who, david.

• Comment "ugh your mind nicky" reply video: right? Big brain, many thoughts, head full all the time. But like actually the idea of david playing exy and Jean hanging out with ducks and making viral tiktoks just-

• Comment "i feel you and @ austincantdrive would make the best chaotic duo" reply: we would be too powerful together. Austin replies too: agree.

• Allison makes a sports jersey/comfy wear but make it fashion and she styles herself. Everyone on the comments d i e s for her.

• Comment "okay but what about the boys. help allison." She makes a video too with matt and nicky and at the end neil wears an orange crop top and the internet b r e a k s

• Comment "allison do you listen to girl in red?" video reply: her winking at the camera and lip syncing as sweater weather plays. The comments a lot of them liked by creator: a win for the girls (and the boys)

• Upperclassmen Back in 2003: okay but hey do we always have to be involved? Can we do normal stuff that normal people do, like, go for brunch? Us (aaron, andrew, kevin and me): what the fuck is brunch?

• Of course they do the mr blue sky trend. Nicky: drunkenly goes to flirt with a guy. Aaron: drunkenly follows to get away from kevin. Kevin: drunk on pure vodka reminds us we have practice in the morning.

• Or another one all of them. Neil: ready to insult a reporter. Dan: tries not to laugh on camera. Matt: gets ready to hug him afterwards Allison and Nicky: Filming everything. Wymack: the only one trying to stop it from happening and failing.

• Dan and matt duet their reactions to every video edit of them, smiling and saying "your parents love you guys!".

• Comment "literally what is wrong with the ravens/ravens fans?The foxes are such a nice group of people and they're doing great in the sport y'all worship just shut up you cult-y athletic hype house." video reply: "ladies and gentlemen. The volume inside of this bus is A S T R O N O M I C A L."

• comment video reply: okay so we're not gonna talk about nicky at the gym?? Bc C A K E. nicky lip syncing "I'm glad you brung it up because I've been dying to talk about this for a fucking hot minute. First of all-"

• Colin uses one of Neil's or Andrew's interviews replies as one of his sounds and nicky fanboys a lot

• Allison and nicky do the Kardashian sound compilation.

• Nicky with a picture of Erik on green screen: "hi I just wanna say if you look anything like this please contact me. Thank you." Caption: miss u baby. And Erik watches his tiktoks and he facetimes him immediately. Nicky takes a screenshot and duets his own video crying with the screenshot caption: SKALSBSKAJSL Erik comments: stop making tiktoks and answer the phone, hemmick. Nicky replies: yessir everyone below comments keyboard smashes and you got a good one. Goals. Lmao kids that's what we call bottom panic. We stan one healthy long distance relationship and after that a bunch of long distance relationship questions that he makes another video on.

• A video of Katelyn and neil chatting and it pans to the twins watching them with the *when worlds collide sound*

• He reposts a snippet of one of his interviews post game where he grabs the mic from the reporter and nicky: can I say something? Reporter: sure, go ahead. Nicky: thank you. *looks straight into the camera* all the birds died in 1986 due to Reagan killing them and replacing them with spies that are now watching us. The birds work for the bourgeoisie. Thank you." And leaves. IT GOES VIRAL INSTANTLY.

• Comment "is everyone else gonna forget that tiktok where he said he was already part of a controversy? We stan a problematic icon?" Video reply: guys I might have been part of a whole Twitter beef thing against my little hoodie and Bruce hallway but c'mon, like, c'mon you can't blame me.

• Comment "for neil: does the carpet match the drapes 👅😍?" Video reply: neil on selfie mode. "Allison gave me her phone, told me to answer this and ran away so umm." He reads the box on the screen and frowns he walks and stands next to the window, where Andrew is sitting down and is barely seen on frame. "uhmm, the internet is confusing. Our carpet is like this" he turns the phone and shows the floor (grayish carpet) and then back at him "but we don't have drapes so, technically they don't match, I dont know." Andrew's head goes up and simply says "Neil." Neil turns "what?" And the video ends.

• of course nicky and allison do the WAP dance, on the court, when they should be running drills.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

do you have any fics where stiles is treated badly? It could be by the pack, or by family, or something. I just need angst

Here’s some angst. I’ll just be crying over here, don’t mind me.

We Were Not Born to Drown by cutflowersound

(1/1 I 3,497 I Teen I Sterek)

After Gerard tortures Stiles, he is left alone to deal with it.

Derek saves him.

Scratch that, they save eachother.

You Were Never Meant to Know by Mooneye

(1/1 I 8,521 I Teen I Sterek)

“Not a fan of exorcisms, Stiles?” the figure asked as though he were enquiring about the rain.

“Not really. I could spew black bile if you’d like more authenticity,” Stiles answered.

“Stiles, what’s going on?” Scott demanded, unease growing.

Stiles is a demon, always has been, and never intended for anyone to know. Unfortunately, his secret is forcefully revealed and he has nowhere to hide.

Birds Eye View by HappyJuicyfruit

(2/2 I 20,956 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek’s eyes widened, and his first instinct was to look towards Scott, but he already knew what he was searching for wouldn’t be there. Hadn’t been there this whole time.

Stiles was missing.

Derek growled and turned to Scott, “what did you do?”

Scott, pale and wide eyed, looked between Derek and Chris, who were both looking at him for answers. “I- Deaton said he wouldn’t notice!”

Chris sighed, “wouldn’t notice what?”

Derek growled in agreement.

“Deaton gave me pills, full of mountain ash, to replace Gerard’s cancer pills. That way after Derek bit him, Gerard would die.”

Chris crossed his arms, “you didn’t think a cancer patient, or the doctor he checks in with regularly, would notice that he wasn’t taking his pills?”

He Is a Secret Born From a Legend Born From a Myth by LuneFaitLaFolie

(22/22 I 29,907 I Not Rated I Sterek)

Which leads him to where he is now, waking up in Derek’s bed, the pack, Deaton, Melissa and his dad all present. All of them looking worried sick and concerned, trying to distract themselves with something, anything to not go near Derek’s bed. Derek’s bed which he was currently occupying. He slowly looked down to his arms and yep, there they were, his invisible tattoos that were no longer invisible.

The Mating Privilege by Kikileduc

(12/12 I 35,380 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles and Derek have been happily mated. The pack is doing well, but in hopes of creating alliances for it to do better, Derek accepts a neighboring pack's request to allow two wolves to join the Hale-McCall pack for a full moon cycle. They hope to form a blood-tie, or at least a long term friendship between the two packs. The issue is Kohona, the tribal leader's daughter, has her eyes set on an unavailable alpha wolf. This could have drastic consequences for their young emissary, however...

Only he saw. by obsessedbutonline

(31/31 I 45,781 I Teen I Steter)

When the pack stopped telling him about meetings, Stiles laughed. It wasn't surprising that they forgot to update his number when their phones kept getting destroyed by the monster of the week...right? They just forgot. That happened. All the time! Too often. When the pack stopped giving excuses for forgetting, a deserving prickle of fear and trepidation etched its way into his heart, making his usually cocky and brave smile falter and leave. Only when they weren't watching. When they went out of their way to stop him going to meetings, he stopped smiling altogether. Only where they couldn't see. But it's fine, right? He was part of a family that loved him and just wanted to keep him safe...right? But when Derek used the door instead of the window to get into Stile's house, as small and insignificant a fact that may be, he accepted that something was wrong.

Residents of Bad Wolf Bay by Lunabell_Marauder_Knyte

(8/? I 49,769 I Not Rated I Sterek)

“Time travel is a tricky thing, Stiles.In your world...you lived, you ran with wolves, you fought...and you died. But I couldn't let you really die. But you couldn't be there anymore.” The Doctor said.

“...where am I now?” Stiles asked numbly.

“There are parallel universes. All mostly the same minus a few changes in each one. This is the one the Tardis is familiar with.Like before I am burning up a sun just to make sure you've made it alright.” the Doctor's hands are in his pockets as he looks at him with a sad smile. “In this life you were never born...so there won't be a problem of accidentally causing a paradox. I sent you to a point in time where you can make a difference. I know you're smart enough to figure things out...just...be careful. I am so, so sorry.”

“...Take care of my dad.” was the last thing he got to say before the Doctor vanished.

Or In which the pack's neglect and his father's indifference drive Stiles away. He becomes the Doctor's companion and we know that eventually all companion's adventures end. Some endings are happy, some are sad. Some are bitter sweet.

Or

The Doctor tells the Sheriff and the Pack that Stiles won't be making it for dinner. Now...or ever.

Backstage is Full of Parasites by Falln_Grce

(14/14 I 61,349 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles learned to take care of himself from a young age. And despite going through trauma as a child, he's 17 now and has adjusted to the new normal as well as he can. With a soulmate-AU just to keep things interesting.

What if the Sheriff didn't turn to alcohol when his wife died... What if he focused all of his attention on helping a seven year old, recently removed from an abusive home, Isaac get settled into the Stilinski household... Where would Stiles fit into that world?

Escape From Eichen by MelodramaticSalad

(24/24 I 139,993 I Explicit I Sterek)

There's a reason why we have dreams we can't remember. What if those dreams had the possibility to show others and ourselves what our innermost desires were, even if they were completely unknown to ourselves? That is, until it was time for them to surface. It was 2018 when this new technology was first released to the public, four years ago. A company called the Eichen Corporation started up and had three very distinct things that they specialized in.

Derek Hale found himself trapped in an Eichen facility by mistake, he was completely normal, there was no reason for him to be there. One thing was for certain though, he was going to get out of this place, and he was going to take them down.

Do Not Go Gentle by MojoFlower

(51/51 I 195,878 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek Hale, Beacon Hills Alpha and Dom, wakes up in a dark cell already housing another captive – a mute, traumatized sub with a cruel collar around his neck. His only goal is to get them both free of their brutal circumstances; but even as he tries to get his young companion home, a bond between them grows. Nothing comes easily: danger and harrowing echoes of their ordeal shadow every step they take.

Blue Monday by ExpectNothingGainEverything

(18/? I 511,120 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles would have never guessed that the star player of the lacrosse team and presumably the hottest guy in school who everyone wanted a piece of and one of his most hated bullies would turn out to be his soulmate.

Derek would never have dreamed that fate would be so cruel to pair him up with a freak like Stilinski.

[lynettethemadscientist]

Concept: An Alternate Universe(?) Saeran x Reader fic based on the 50s sci-fi movie The Alligator People. 

~

I’m standing on a train station platform in Louisiana swamp country. Alone.

Nearby me sits a box labeled radioactive. It’s been hours but surely someone will come for their mail. So I wait.

An old pickup arrives. A mint-haired man wearing dark shades steps out of the truck to pick up the package.

I ask him if he knows of the place I’m looking for and if he’ll take me there.

“They don’t usually have visitors.” His voice is low and cool. “Are they expecting you?”

“No. Not exactly. But they will know who I am.”

The bluenet smiles before telling me to hop in and loading the crate onto the truck. 

The drive through the swamp is rough. The man introduces himself as V and gives me a kind smile. Perhaps in an effort to ease my apprehension. But my unease does not come from him.

When V stops to remove a large branch from the roadway, I see two men attempting to wrangle an alligator.

“Have you ever been in bayou country before?” V asks as he returns to the truck.

I shake my head, still staring at the gator thrashing and hissing in the grasp of the men. “It’s so wild and primitive.”

“And deadly. You ought to be careful around here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The rest of the drive is no more smooth and no less tense than it began.

We soon reach a plantation house. V drops me off and drives away. 

I knock on the door. 

The door opens and I’m greeted by a stunningly beautiful white-haired man with scarlet eyes dressed in butler attire. He flashes a charming smile but before he can speak, I hear a cheery male voice from within the house.

“Who is it, Zen?~” The voice chimes.

“It’s a fine lady.” Zen answers as he effortlessly tosses me a wink.

“Well don’t be rude, let her in!~”

I step inside and see a man with racecar-red hair dressed like a Southern belle. His face looks strangely familiar.

“Is this your place?” I ask.

“Of course!” He flourishes an ornate fan. “Welcome to my lovely manor!”

I catch a glimpse of the butler rolling his eyes before I respond. “Well...maybe you can help me. For a long time I’ve been looking for my husband. He disappeared the night we were married. I’ve searched everywhere. I’ve tried everything. And this is my last hope.”

The vermillion-haired belle’s face is still plastered with a silly grin but his eyes show no mirth. “But, why here? Surely you can’t expect to find anything in a swamp but alligators~ And snakes~ Hisssss~”

I hesitate, trying to process the unorthodox demeanor of this man. “I received a mysterious message stating that my husband lived at this address.”

“What is your name?”

“Mrs. Saeran Choi.”

His expression falters for a moment. “Well, there’s no one by that name here~ Some charlatan must have been playing a cruel prank on you.” He touches a hand to his cheek. “But no matter~ There’ll be another train tomorrow~ May we offer you the hospitality of the manor for the night?”

“I suppose…” This man is so absurd, I cannot determine if he is mocking me or just ill-mannered. 

“Terrific!” He claps his hands together. “Yoosung!”

A door opens to reveal a blond man with violet eyes wearing a maid outfit. He exits what appears to be a kitchen. “Yes, Master Luciel?”

“Show Mrs- what was your name again?”

“Mrs. Saeran Choi.”

“Show Mrs. Choi to the guest room please~”

Luciel whispers something into Yoosung’s ear before I follow him upstairs. 

~

I distractedly unpack in my room amidst thoughts concerning the strange owner of this house. I’m tempted to dismiss his behavior as merely the eccentricities of a man who’s lived in the swamp too long. But I cannot help but feel that his odd behavior is merely a ruse. 

I hear gunshots outside.

I rush to the window and see a blonde woman in a black dress cackling and firing a pistol wildly at gators. I run to the door but find it locked. 

I retreat to the bed. I’m trapped here. If I were really a guest they wouldn’t have locked me in. 

The gunshots stop.

The maid enters carrying a tea tray.

“Yoosung,” I plead. “Those gunshots. What were they about?”

“Oh...” He throws a mildly contemptuous glance at the window. “That’s the swamp witch. She hates gators.” He sets down the tray and stares at me for a tense moment. “I have to go.”

“Wait please!” I tug at Yoosung’s arm. “Somebody has to help me. Is it true what he told me? Have I come to the wrong place?”

“I can’t- I ought not to say anything, ma’am.”

“Can’t you tell me anything?”

I see pity surfacing in his lavender eyes. “I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s not my secret to tell.”

He slips a key into my hands and leaves the room.

I hear a door slam and look out another window to see Luciel leaving in a car that looks ill-fitted for the terrain. 

~

I wake up to the sound of a piano playing a sorrowful tune. I feel as though I’ve heard this theme before. I unlock my door and walk softly down the stairs. I can hear the music coming from behind a door to my right.

I open the door and the piano stops playing. In the dark I can barely see a male figure turning to see me before he flees out a side door and into the swamp. I turn on a lamp and see muddy footprints on the floor. Upon approaching the piano I find the keys are wet. 

~

In the morning I stand outside the front door. A man drives up in a fancy boat with wheels. He introduces himself as Jumin Han, the local doctor. 

“Is Luciel inside?” He inquires.

“He hasn’t come down yet. Has he been ill, doctor?”

“No. I have some other business with him.”

I pause for a moment before introducing myself. “I’m Mrs. Choi. Mrs. Saeran Choi.” I examine his face as I enunciate my words. “That name doesn’t mean anything to you?”

“No. Should it?”

“I don’t know. Let me explain, doctor. Since my husband disappeared I’ve done nothing but search for him. And I’m going to keep on asking questions.”

“What brings you here?”

“A mysterious message.”

“You came all the way down here. Traveled thousands of miles. On nothing more tangible than that.”

“I’ve traveled much farther, on even less.”

“I see.” The flash of conflict in his eyes is brief but unmistakable. “You found no other evidence?”

“Why? Is there other evidence?”

“Of course not.”

“You did know Saeran didn’t you? I can tell. What is it, doctor? Why won’t any of you tell me about him? What are you all trying to hide?”

“You are obviously overwrought. But that’s understandable given the circumstances. I wish I could help. Please tell Luciel I couldn’t wait, but I’ll stop by later.”

Even as he walks away I’m sure that man did not come here to see Luciel at all but instead to interrogate me.

When Zen brings a car around to bring me to the train station I refuse to leave.

Luciel returns home to find me rifling through the paperwork in his desk.

“What are you doing??” He hikes up his dress and rushes towards me.

“Looking for answers.”

“Get out of there. You’ve no right to look through my things. You were supposed to leave on the train.”

“I’m not leaving here until I get the answers to the questions that brought me here.”

“I told you yesterday you were mistaken.”

“I think you’re lying.”

“Get out of my house.”

“I will not. Who was playing the piano in the dark last night? Someone who left wet footprints on the carpet.”

“You’re imagining things-”

“No I’m not. Anymore than I’m imagining that you want to get rid of me. That you’ve got something to hide.”

His expression hardens. “Just leave it alone. It’s none of your business.”

“The hell it isn’t! What have you done with my husband?”

“Your curiosity will get you nothing but trouble. You need to leave. Now.”

“Saeran is my husband. I’m not leaving until you tell me whatever terrible thing you’ve done to him.”

“I don’t give a damn if he’s your husband! He’s-” His breathing is frantic.

“He’s what?”

Luciel heaves a weary sigh. “He’s my brother.” His eyes glisten. “I have to protect him. No matter what.”

I am halted at this revelation. My confrontational demeanor is whisked away.

~

As night falls, I wait for Saeran in the piano room. I sit concealed in a large cushioned chair. Behind me I hear the door open and a gravelly voice speak.

“Saeyoung, is she gone?”

“No Saeran, she isn’t.” I stand from the chair and face him.

He covers his face in an instant and flees. I call out to him, but he disappears into the dark, rainy swamp. I take off after him, pleading for him to come back. 

“Saeran! Saeran!” I wail. The mud is above my ankles. My arms and legs are bruised from the logs and branches. I have to find him. I call out for him over and over, desperately trying to scream above the storm. But I can’t see him. I can hardly see anything.

I stumble upon a snake that strikes at me and I shriek in fear. The blonde woman I saw earlier appears from the foliage and uses a stick to push away the snake.

“You ought to have better sense, dear.” She coos into my ear. “Nobody goes out into the swamp on a night like this.”

She wraps her arm around my shoulders and leads me into a cabin.

“I don’t understand. Why did you bring me here?” I shiver.

“Well, dear, I thought you’d appreciate me saving you from that snake.” She smiles. It is not a kind smile.

She offers me a drink. It doesn’t look like any alcohol I’ve seen. It’s bright blue. I try to decline, but she insists I take a sip. It’s very bitter. I cough and she chuckles.

I’m sniffling. More from the renewed loss of my husband than from the cold.

“You poor dear. You’re so cold. Here, have another sip.” She says cloyingly as she attempts to push the flask into my hands.

I utter a brief response amidst my tears. “I’ll be alright. Thanks.”

“Alright dear.” She sets down the flask and lifts up a blanket. “Here. We’ll wrap you in this then. So you don’t catch a cold.”

I stand up and she wraps the blanket around my body. She doesn’t let go. Her arms curl tightly around me. She presses her cheek against mine.

“Please let go.”

“Oh now, don’t say that. We’re only just getting to know each other.”

I struggle against her embrace. “Let go!”

She chuckles and tightens her grip.

I start struggling more frantically as she restrains me. But I can feel my movements becoming more sluggish. I hear her cackle through my screams.

The door slams open but I can hardly react to see who it is before I’m thrown onto the bed. 

I can hear a struggle. I try to roll over and see who stopped the witch, but I can barely move now.

I feel cold, rough hands lift me into their arms and carry me back out into the rain. But for some reason I am not afraid. Before my vision goes completely dark I try to look at my rescuer’s face. He has white hair, but his skin is olive green and leathery.

The last thing I hear before I lose consciousness is a woman screeching: “I’ll kill you alligator man! Just like I would any four-legged gator! You hear me? I’ll kill you!”

~

In the morning, I am told that Dr. Han wishes to see me and I’m escorted to his laboratory in the swamp.

As I enter the building, a shapely brunette leading two cloaked figures approaches me.

“You’re Mrs. Choi?”

“Yes,” I responded, watching the two figures as they walk away. They’re completely concealed. Even their hands and faces. “Dr. Han is expecting me.”

“Please follow me. You may wait in his office.”

From his office I can see Dr. Han overseeing several men carry a gator from a gurney onto a table underneath a large, strange apparatus. They strap the gator down as Dr. Han turns to leave.

I watch silently as he enters the office and begins to operate the apparatus. A high-pitched noise fills the room as Dr. Han stares at his watch.

After a few seconds, the sound is stopped and Dr. Han speaks through a comm.

“Take him out. Put him in a cage alone. We’ll run the test series on him in an hour. And bring in another specimen.”

He turns to me before speaking again.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Choi, for the wait. This experiment is very urgent.” He pauses for a moment to adjust his tie. “Remarkable creatures aren’t they?” He gestures to the alligator being carried away from the table.

“I suppose.”

“I’ve been conducting experiments for years, exploring the possibility of accelerating the healing process of humans using extracts from these creatures. And about two years ago, I thought I’d found the answer. I conducted an experimental treatment on those who had been badly mangled in accidents. The results were miraculous. Bones, tendons, muscles, even nerves and skin mended completely in a matter of weeks.”

“That’s very interesting, doctor, but what does that have to do with my husband?”

“I’m afraid it has everything to do with your husband. I’m sure you’re aware of the plane crash that nearly killed him?”

I slowly nod.

“Your husband was the worst of the lot. He was on the brink of death. Completely broken. And horribly disfigured.”

I vaguely remembered telling my husband before he vanished that he hardly looked like he’d been in a crash at all.

“Sadly, several months after his recovery I became aware of some unintended effects-“

The brunette assistant entered the room.

“Doctor, come quickly. It’s #6 again.”

“I see. Mrs. Choi please follow me.”

As I followed the pair down the hallway I could hear growls. Upon entering the room I see a snarling man on a bed, writhing underneath the grip of three men. The left half of his face is covered with green leathery scales.

Dr. Han performed a brief examination.

“Another sedative, doctor?”

“No. It seems the brain tissue has been affected. Use the ice pack and monitor him.”

The assistant left the room and returned with a large heavy blanket which was draped over the struggling man. Shortly after, his muscles relaxed and he became calm.

“Who is this?” I asked.

“One of my patients.”

“Then this is…” Horror crept into my heart.

“The aftereffects.”

“I don’t understand- how-“ My voice trembled.

“I do not know. I have been trying to find out for the past several months.”

“And the ice blanket?”

“Reptiles cannot internally regulate their temperature, so cold has a depressant effect on them.”

“Reptiles? But these aren’t-“

And then I understood. Or rather I was forced to accept it. As much as I didn’t want to. Dr. Jumin Han’s patients were turning into alligators as a result of his treatment. And my husband was one of those patients.

I should’ve been distraught. Or maybe angry. But all I could think of was how Saeran felt he needed to carry this burden himself. I couldn’t imagine how scared and alone he had been these past several months. I needed to see him.

As the doctor walked me out I asked him whether there was any hope of reversing these effects.

“There is a slight chance. But my testing is far from complete. Against my advice, your husband insists upon taking that chance tonight. The risk is extremely great, Mrs. Choi. This treatment could worsen his condition or kill him.”

“I will talk to him.”

“Please do.”

~

As night fell, I waited for Saeran to arrive at the doctor’s office. 

When he saw me he once again tried to conceal his face and flee. I grasped his arm.

“Saeran! Please don’t run away! Not again. Dr. Han explained everything. Including why you’re here tonight.” I tugged at his arm, trying to get him to face me. “Please, Saeran. It doesn’t make any difference. I’m your wife and I love you.”

Saeran still wouldn’t look at me. “You know about tonight?” 

“Yes. Please don’t do this, Saeran. The risk is too great. Please just wait. Wait for Dr. Han to complete the tests. Please I can’t lose you. Not again.”

“I’m sorry, darling. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to see me like this.” His voice was gravelly but choked with emotion. “I’d rather have died.”

“Please don’t say that, Saeran. I love you. No matter what. You know that, right?”

“…yes.”

“Then please trust me. I’ve been so worried about you. I’ve missed you so much. Look at me please.”

Saeran turned to face me at last. Revealing his crocodilian face. His eyes shone with tears.

I cradled his face in my palms.

“I love you. And I don’t want to lose you. Even if it means being married to an alligator man. Please don’t do this.”

He muttered my name in a half-sob and I embraced him. He felt so cold to the touch. And his soft skin was replaced with scales. But none of it mattered. He was still Saeran, so he was perfect. He sank into my embrace as if he had existed for an eternity without being held. His hard hands clung desperately to my back. His ridged face buried itself in my neck. 

“Are you sure?” His breath shuddered against my skin. “You can love an alligator man?”

“As long as the alligator man is my Saeran.”

[msmarvelwrites]

The Winter Ghost - Chapter 17

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: swearing, fluff, foreshadowing smut?

W/c: 2.3k

A/n: I know I know, it’s been quite a few nights since I last posted since I usually try to every few days... This week has been a whole long seven days. And honestly I needed to charge my battery and take a break from writing for a minute. Anyyways, thats boring, and this is not. Were almost done here, and I’m so excited to move onto some imagine’s I’ve been brainstorming! Hope you enjoy! 

Bucky’s breath fanned across your collarbone, drifting in and out of slumber. How he could even attempt sleeping after the day's events was, quite frankly, astonishing. But you didn't dare wake him, afraid you wouldn't get a chance to be this close to him again. 

It was easy enough to conclude how you felt about the past few days as confusion. Specifically speaking, you knew it went deeper than that. Your memories had kicked you in the teeth, reeling from the guilt and grief that Tommy was dead and it was all your fault. Yet in the matter of hours, you had fed him to Hydra. You knew exactly what they would do to him when they found out you had escaped. You also knew that when the team circled back to dispose of the Hydra base, or what of it was left, Tommy would be gone. For good this time. 

Bucky’s body shifted, leaning in closer to you. Your heart raced as a small sigh erupted from his chest, vibrating through you. 

And then there was that. You weren't sure when that feeling of butterflies had come back when Bucky looked at you, but nevertheless it had. Part of you thought you should be sorrowful after your ‘almost’ fiance ‘almost’ shot you. Maybe take a day for bereavement, and yet, the idea of pressing pause on Bucky, after all this time, felt impossible. More to the point, you were tired of fighting between what you thought was morally right about how your heart beated ten times faster when he was around.  

“Do you hate me?” He hesitated under his breath. The rest of the team had all taken their seats at the front of the aircraft. Even still, he spoke as though he was afraid they would hear your confession. 

Your eyes met his, looking for some sort of punchline, but none came. Silence hung heavy around his question, and you swallowed deeply. 

Did you hate him? There was a time not so long ago that you would have been an easy question to answer. He hadn't stolen the life you thought he had. No, Tommy did that all on his own.  He betrayed everything you had built together. He wasn't the man you thought you knew. Bucky, on the other hand, always had been. You knew about his past. He had spent countless nights wrapped in his arms dredging but old and broken memories about his time with Hydra. The only thing you knew for sure was he made you feel like you belonged in a world that you thought had written you off years ago.

 Maybe, if you hated anyone, it was yourself. How long had Tommy been lying to you?  How could you not have seen it? How many nights had you spent in your bed, giving yourself to him, trusting him, believing him? 

“Thats a loaded question.” He murmured before you could answer. “I just mean, I miss this… Miss, you.” 

You worried on your bottom lip, watching as he huffed out a breath and accepting your silence for an obvious answer. Before he could pull away from you, you took his hands in yours, starling him from the sudden warmth. 

“I- I don’t think I ever hated you.” You offered honestly. 

Bucky pursed his lips and looked you over quizzically. “Could’ve fooled me.” He chuckled, leaning back into you as his breath steadied again. 

“I know I never really got the chance to- uh, apologise...” You tried the word on your tongue, but it tasted bitter. How do you ask for someone's forgiveness after attempting to murder them? “I don't really know what to say…” You mumbled, feeling the walls you built around yourself behind to crumble. 

“That’s cause’ there's nothing to say. Listen doll, of all people you don't need to apologise to me for homicidal tendencies. I get it.” He teased. You appreciated his light hearted approach, but his words send a lump to appear in your throat. Was that what it boiled down to? After a long day of dark thoughts and murderous rampages, Bucky would be there to understand. You weren't sure if the sentiment was romantic or the plot to a Tim Burton film. 

“And besides, I kinda’ deserved the ass kicking.” He signed, smiling into your shoulder. 

“You kind of did.” You chuckled. 

Huh…?

Were you making light hearted joking about attempted murder? Is this who you were now? Honestly, it wasn't the worst thing you’d done. Besides, there was something so comforting about the way he accepted you. Flaws (and boy oh boy were they flaws) and all. 

“Okay. So I'm not sorry for putting you on your ass.” You specified. “But I am sorry. For what I said after. I don’t know where that came from. I don't really think those things about you. You’ve never given me a reason to before.” Bucky huffed, and you could physically feel him stiffen. 

“I lost control, Y/n. I gave you a perfectly good reason...” He noted. You didn't have the heart to tell him that ever since that fateful day in the hallway all you could think about was the aching in your core and how perfect his death machine of a hand fit around your throat. 

“It doesn't matter…” You spoke, running your fingers over his flesh ones, until they locked into his. “I’m fine. You're fine- ish, right?” You chuckled, motioning to his chest now dried with blood, “I don't blame you.”

He squeezed your hand and signed into your shoulder. Everything about this moment was perfect. The impending doom you had left behind was just that. It felt long gone as you stared into Bucky’s arctic eyes and breathed in his scent. Comforting, familiar, and something you weren't ready to comprehend. It sent shivers down your spine and made your legs clench together at the thought. But now, sitting in the back of the quinjet avoiding the loud stares of Wanda scrutinizing your every move was not the time. There was no doubt she was reading your loud heated thoughts, and so desperately, you tried to quiet your want. 

……………………………

When you landed, medical was at the ready, helping Bucky out of the aircraft and into the compound. Shuri tried to force you apart from the injured man long enough to convince you to go for a check up also. 

‘I feel fine. I’m fine’ you tried to argue, but it was no use. Her mind was made up and you were smart enough to know when that happens, there's very little one can do to change it. 

You sat in the small lab, letting Shuri pry and pron at you, asking question after question but your mind was distant. Distracted. There was only one person you wanted to be with, and right now he was down the hall, having bullets plucked from his body. 

The overwhelming need to be near him was sudden, but not unwelcome. Try as you may to push it away, it krept back in, startling you every time. You could play dumb all you wanted, but now that he was not next to you, youre only mission consisted with getting him back. Were you confused? 

Yes. 

Did you understand what you were feeling? 

Not entirely. 

How did Bucky make you feel?

Brave… Loved… Horny? All of the above. 

Yes, yes and yes. There was no denying it. As much as you wished it was more complicated. Your entire core was drawn to him like a magnet and your brain was just along for the ride. Heart stuttering and mind foggy. 

Shuri gives you a once over and taps on your shoulder, yanking you from your thoughts. “You okay?” 

The question was simple. And yet, the words wouldn't come. 

You cleared your throat, physically shaking your head and clearing your racing thoughts, “Yes. I’m okay. Do you think I can go?” 

Shuri smiles knowingly, a chuckle bubbling out of her small chest. “He’s fine, ya’ know. Doctors said they extracted the bullets easily. He’s probably all healed up already-”

Her words were cut off by your impatient foot, bobbing anxiously for the answer to your question. 

“Yes. fine you can go.” 

You practically jumped off the lab table, swinging the door open and shouting a thank you over your shoulder on the way out. 

When you entered Bucky’s medical room, it was quiet. Turning the corner you could see he was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out the large floor length window that looked out to the rolling mountain of Wakanda.

You tried to step lightly, not wanting to alarm him.

“Can't sneak up on a trained assassin.” 

You jumped, clutching your heart at his sudden voice. He chucked, watching your panicked face melt into a smile. 

“Guess not. How ya’ feeling killer?” You smirked, taking a seat on the windowsill across from him. 

Bucky squinted, looking at you skeptically, “I don't know if you're tryin’ to be funny or-” 

“I'm not. That was a stupid joke….” You scoffed as you bathed in the awkward silence that followed. 

There were so many things you wanted to say. So many you wanted to do, and yet your body was frozen, staring at the floor unable to meet his intense gaze. You could literally hear your heart beating in your chest and your face growing warmer by the second. 

“So.” you finally choked out, forcing yourself with all your might to look up. His eyes were soft and full of reassurance. Something you so desperately needed at the moment. Maybe the old Y/n could convey her emotions, but the real one was a total disaster when it came to this sort of thing. 

But that's what you were doing wasn't it? This is what it had all led up to. The kiss, the midnight conversations, the unyielding sexual tension. This was it. 

“So…” He repeated your words, coxing your next ones. 

You chuckled dryly, clearing your throat and starting again, “So, about what happened back there.” 

“When I got shot or when we kissed?”

“Both I guess?” 

“You guess?” He quipped, amusement dripping from his mouth. He was loving this. Watching you fumble over your thoughts. Of course he did. Smug bastard. 

“Listen, I’m not good at this stuff. Obviously. So could you just tell me how it is. Was that some heat of the moment thing? Like before. Because if it was you just gotta’ tell me.”  You finished in a huff. 

Bucky signed, running his flesh hand through his hair. “It wasn't.” He finally spoke, “not then and not now. I was such an ass, pushing you away like that. I just didn't- I guess I still don't think I deserve something like you… Touching me like that.” 

You soaked in his words. Watching his lips intently as his tongue darted out and wetted the bottom one. In a breath, you crossed the room and took the open space beside him as an invitation to sit down. 

“Will you please let me decide what I deserve from now on?” You smirked, looking up  at him from behind your lashes. 

“Yeah, I think that's best.” he chuckled, leaning into you. 

“How’re you feeling?” You mumbled, listening to his breathing steady as he signed into the comfortable position you were both in now. 

“Better. Thanks for that by the way. Wanda’s never used her power on me like that. It really helped.” He spoke, softly, as you waved him off, motioning ‘it was nothing’. 

It felt like the first time in a long time you had spoken to Bucky without the nagging desire to murder him. 

Maybe this is what people talk about when they say you should ‘grow’ with your partner. You're sure that they weren't referring to homicidal rage… But still. 

You looked up to Bucky, watching as he softly bit down on his lip. Without warning or much thought for that matter, you swung your leg around, purchasing yourself on his lap. You would like to believe it was with agile and ease, but the motion sent Bucky back against the bed while you fell against him, straddling his hips.

“What was-” You shushed him with your palm over his mouth, coaxing a deep moan from the back of his throat. It sent a shiver down to your core, but that was a problem for a later time. 

“I want to try something.” You breathed, pulling your hand from his lips and swifting replacing it with yours.

He reacted instantly, his hands settling on your hips as yours pulled at his hair. You melted into his touch as his tongue softly traced the bottom of your lip, deepening the kiss. You could feel his pants tightening around him as he ground his thick member against your core. He was unrelenting as you gasped for hair, pulling away and resting your forehead on his. Had it not been for the room being made entirely of glass you were sure you would have lost your pants. Honestly, you were still considering it. 

“I just wanted to know what that felt like without my life being at risk.” You spoke over heavy breaths. 

Bucky chuckled, his swollen lips turning up into a smile. “And?”

“Eh.” You shrugged, causing Bucky to gasp and he flipped your over, gaining the upper hand. His icy blue eyes, now blown with lust. You're breath caught in your throat by the new intimate position, flexing your thighs shut hard and suppressing a moan. 

“D-did you get the ‘ok’ to leave?” You stuttered, feeling your body tremble under the radiating heat of his. He nodded his head, a few loose strands of deep auburn hair falling from his bun and onto your cheek. 

You bit down on your lip, watching his chest rise and fall above you, feeling the electricity that emanate around the room. The idea that this could very well be a huge mistake crossed your mind and maybe if you were stronger you would have listened. Maybe you just didn't care anymore. Or maybe, it was possible this was exactly where you needed to be. Where you belonged. And so, without hesitation, you slid yourself out of Bucky’s grasp and pulled him down the hallway towards his room.

.......................................................................

A/N: As always, thank you to @cutie1365​ for just being you! Thank you for all your help with this my friend! Were almost done! Like and reblog if you enjoyed! See ya soon! 

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