#i guess i need some post iw feels

[kutputli]

Hi, I wanted to thank you for your posts about racism in tl and iw tv. You pointed out things that completely flew over my white head. Out of curiosity, will you be watching season 4 or did you give up on the show completely? Sending you lots of hugs <3

oh hey! Thank you for that very sweet and entirely unexpected message! It is lovely to hear that what I said helped you see some stuff.

Ted Lasso season 4, huh.

When a friend messaged me about the news, we shared a good eyeroll at the announcement itself. Look at this article from Deadline - Warner Bros has picked up options for THREE of the British actors who were series regulars - Hannah, Brett, and Jeremy. And then you have Forbes chatting about how Phil's option was probably not picked up because of scheduling conflicts. And then both articles talk about how the rest of the cast is American and so represented by SAG-AFTRA and will need separate options.

Guess who is the ONLY actor who is British, was a series regular right from season one, and has not been named in any article, much less had an option picked up of? Go on, take a wild guess.

Yeah, so apparently Nick Mohammed doesn't count to any of these people as a main cast.

And this is to say nothing about other actors of colour who are probably represented by the Brit actors union Equity - Toheeb, Kola, Mo.

So, you know, I am starting out as a giant ball of hatred towards the putrid racism of Ted Lasso even before season 4 has been officially greenlit.

Let's see how I feel in 2025, if it is actually made and releases. I may watch it out of disdain, but unless Nathan Shelley gets the triumphant arc he deserves, I will not be remotely fannish about it.

[erose-this-name]

Primer On Stylistic Elements Of Internet Speak (Zoomerese) (from what I've learned by being terminally online)

This is just text, like, normal fucking text. nothing special about this.

Because base English 🥱 only has support for shouting :O (!) questions🤨(?) and statements ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (.), and we wanted to add new registers of voice :P, (and keyboards limit the ability to add new symbols) :-( a lot of new features to the language have to be made out of other symbols or be made of stylistic elements instead of a dedicated symbol. And since there's no dedicated authority to teach people new abstract symbols, they had to be faces so they could be intuitive. ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ♡

This isn't sARcaSTIc at all, I mean come on, why would anyone EVER want to indicate SARCASM by OVEREXAGGERATING to compensate for """"English not having a sarcasm punctuation mark""""? Like, c'mon, it's not like "/s" or ".~" can also be used AS a sarcmark.~

Oh, yeah? "RanDOM CaPS mAKeS IT sOunD LIkE mOCkiNG" that's what you sound like.

This is TOTALLY post-irony OR meta-irony, where you just, like, SAY what you actually mean but IN A SARCASTIC WAY??? Uh, what is this, some kinda "gen z exclusive" comedy/slang feature?? Like, wow, I guess you would need to do that to "create some distance" between you and your beliefs by giving you the ability to say you were "JuST KiDDinG", or as a "joke" because ""zoomers"" are so oversaturated with content that normal single level sarcasm doesn't work anymore and they need to layer that shit up two or three times, or some bullshit like that.

I'm finna splain txt messg shorthand, aka sms language. its like faster 2 type & kinda gives u a valley grl vibe. itz actually a bit harder 2 learn than the rest of these and I'm not gud at it. kthnx

This. Is. Putting. A. Period. On. Every. Fucking. Word. This. Shit. Makes. It. Sound. Like. You. Motherfucker. Are. Very. FUCKING. Angry. And. Authoritative. (this prosody is also a new [and relatively rare] feature in spoken English as well.)

UwU, what's this? Nya, thiws iws uwu/owo voice! (UwU)! Iwt iws meant towo sowund wike a baby voice, vewy cute (hazawdouswy cute) (UwU!), awnd iws used excwusivewy by fuwwies awnd femboys awnd fuwwy femboys uwu awnd anyaone who uses iwt "iwonyacawwy" iws secwetewy owne nya of those pwobabwy uwu. use at youw own peril (you will wose bwaincewws awnd become gay) nya! RAWR XD

Dis ar teh LOLCAT, it be VRY OUTDATD MEME, but sum bits ov dis style ov brokd grammar an spellin' still appears on teh interwebs in TINY DOSES 2 mak it seem cutr an dumbr or leik a cat 4 ironic purposez, LIEK ONCE OR TWICE PER POST!!!1!1 DO NOT OVAR USE IT LIEK IM U WILL DYE!!!1!1!

uh all lowercase and without punctuation makes it seem childish/lazy which can be used for irony if what youre saying is actually very important or authoritative but you dont wanna sound that way because you are depressed or just wanna feel cute or maybe some other reason idk im just a boy

Exclamation marks (!) indicate excitement and energy! My Dad (ex-typographer) whose really really cool says that exclamation marks (!) mean you're SHOUTING and not to use them!!! And he's really cool, but that's not right anymore because SHOUTING IS INDICATED BY ALL UPPERCASE!!!!!

AAAA WHY ARE WE SHOUTING!?

fUCK CAPS LOCK IS ON THIS LOOKS LIKE AN OBVIOUS MISTAKE/UNINTENTIONAL SHOUTING FUNNY JOKE.

This is Capitalizing The First Letter In Every Word, which is done on Tumblr Dot Com but not much elsewhere. It brings to mind how Titles and Headlines also sometimes Capitalizing The First Letter In Every Word, and gives your post an aura of Authority and to Nounify Something.

Most other parts of the internet™®© do this where they spam copyright and trademark symbols®©™®©© to achieve the same effect as capitalizing the first letter in every word©©™.

>be me >go on 4Chan.org >dies immediately.exe >looks into posts >discovers entirely unique and interesting writing style called greentext >ask why its called that >Get called a "newf*g, desu" >it's mostly used by incels to gaslight fa/tg/uys and /b/***** (they wouldn't censor that) into reading stories they made up about themselves where they become a sex haver >literally no one believes that any greentext has ever actually happened >find incest greentext >ew.wav >read it anyways because ******** (utter self-loathing is important for authentic greentext) >it's just the plot of Star Wars: Empire Strikes Back >mfw

I learned 4Channerish so you don't have to. Seriously, don't.

(If I've missed anything please reblog to expand our VALUABLE COLLECTIVE EDUTRAINING ABILITIES)

[cozza-frenzy]

hiya it's been a while since i saw ur blog, how is everyone?

Things could be better, honestly? The last few weeks have been a struggle, none of us remember very much of what's been happening on the day-to-day. It feels like we've been sleepwalking for a while, just going through the motions until everything becomes too overwhelming. But today's been alright. We had a decent night's rest, even after going to bed with an upset stomach. We're slowly working out which parts of us have been freaking out about things, what they've been so stressed about, and letting them process things as they come up here and front. And as of today, we're figuring out what we can do to try and repair things when it comes to the memory problems we've been having. So, in Inner World terms? That means that a few of us are going around and asking who wants to help clean up the library's Catalog Room, which represents our memory. From what I (Terry) can tell, there's signs of damage like a fire has happened - this is our brain telling us that a buildup of stress has caused a massive disruption. Since our IW communicates its status through metaphors, I'm guessing some things can't be recovered at all (there's piles of ashes and burnt paper) and others have been damaged but could be restored with effort (showing signs of water damage or partial burning). Memories here are either deleted when no longer needed or committed to long-term storage in the Deep Library, and it's usually Dagwood's job to help manage this. But even with his ability to exist in multiple places at once (i.e. communicate with other parts simultaneously), he hasn't been able to figure out how to start fixing this because he's overwhelmed. And when he gets overwhelmed, he doesn't commit anything to long-term storage - with so many amnesia barriers preventing proper sorting, it all gets deleted. So different alters are cleaning up the mess with mops and brooms, helping with sorting papers, and delegating tasks depending on our individual skills.

Taffy was here when we started this post (the first two paragraphs were written mostly by xer, hence the colored text) but has since left to go help out. I've got to be here at front because somebody's got to pilot the meat gundam, but I'm really proud of everyone for taking the initiative. Even those of us who have a specific job in this system still need help doing that job, and getting things back up and running when they break down is a collective responsibility. Oh, and I'm proud of myself, too, for continuing to talk about what we're doing to heal ourselves. Even when it really pisses some people off. Hope you're having a good day too, anon.

[nostalgicatsea]

5-fic self-rec!

Thanks for tagging me for this, @oluka (and the last line thing too except I had to pass on that one because I haven't written anything in a while other than the last excerpt I posted on here 😅).

Except for "Apricity," which is near and dear to my heart despite how much I itch to edit it (a constant issue I have with things I write), I went with some of my favorites that have flown under the radar.

Hm...this ended up more of a "hey, good job, me" post than a "I'm trying to find what's compelling about these fics to rec them" post. Oh well.

In order of publication:

Apricity (616 Steve/Tony, T, 1.5k)

My first fic on AO3! My first Steve/Tony fic! And somehow it was 616 instead of MCU. I love dark Steve, but I'm particular with how exactly he's unhinged and this is how I like him. Even-keeled despite being off his rocker. Rational in his own head. Soured on the world, but in a way that pushes who he is to the extremes so his core is still visible even if it's mottled with rot. And, of course, obsessed with Tony. I also like the tempo of this; I used to have a good grasp on tempo, but I feel like I've lost that a bit over the years.

Unraveled (Warrior (2011) gen fic, G, 1k)

Since it's a movie that doesn't have a lot of fanworks for it and it's a gen fic to boot, barely anyone has read this, but I don't care because it was written for a friend, @luxover. I love writing little stories to gift friends. If you haven't watched Warrior, watch it! Brutal tearjerker about a broken family and broken men and one of the few good sports movies out there. No, you don't need to know anything about MMA to enjoy it. I don't.

Okay, I should talk about this ficlet. I'm fond of this one because it's so different from my usual writing. It's stream-of-consciousness and entirely voice-driven like someone sat you down in Brendan's head and he's talking and talking even if he naturally isn't saying of this out loud. Because he and his brother Tommy are emotionally constipated; even if they love each other a lot, they don't know how to reach out to each other. They don't know if they're wanted. This also has one of my favorite last lines I've ever written. GUT PUNCH, if I do say so myself. ONE-TWO HIT, K.O. Sums up every layer of their relationship.

Hidden Declaration (Brad/Ray (Generation Kill), T, 728 words)

Another gift for a friend (the same friend)! Brad/Ray and MCU Steve/Tony share some similarities despite being drastically different, so is it any surprise I liked these two unhinged idiots? I never open for fic prompts, but this was when I was on a roll and then I got scared because lux asked for this. I never wrote for Gen Kill, I read maybe 3 GK fics in my life, and Ray is one of those characters who are impossible to write well imo (to be honest, I also feel the same way about Brad though the difficulty is subtler). He's an unusual guy with a very particular way of speaking.

And somehow this flowed out of me quickly. It's not without its flaws, but it was so different from what I usually write and how I do that it was really fun to write this! Very dialogue-heavy too which isn't what I'm known for. And the crassest (also...some language that's not okay as a warning, but if you know GK, it comes with the territory) and most sexual (it's still not very sexual lol) out of my fics. I think I captured how much they're best friends and they're so comfortable in each other's presence well. Plus I put a little wink for my friend at the end and it's one of the few times I like being indulgent with my writing. Also, tattoo fics are a trope and I guess this counts as my one tattoo fic though it's not an AU and there's no actual tattooing involved.

A Long, Final Rest Among the Stars (MCU Tony-centric/Nebula & Tony gen fic, G, 2.7k)

My tribute to best boy Tony, my first and ultimate love (along with Steve, of course) along with an expansion of the lovely bits of Nebula and Tony's tender friendship that we got to see in IW which I adored. They share a lot in common.

Writing this made me so sad because I felt like I was preparing to say goodbye to Tony. It made me reminisce about how it all started, and everything came full circle. His past is his present. Tony's trapped on a dark spaceship injured and far, far away from home. Tony's trapped in a dark cave injured and far, far away from home. There's a kind spirit with him, and even if they try to keep him alive, he's a dead man walking. But he's also come a long way from the man he used to be. I'M REALLY PROUD OF HIM, OKAY? I LOVE HIM.

The Burning of Flowers (616 Steve/Tony, G, 1.2k)

I secretly really, really wish more people read this fic. I wanted to write a Hanahaki AU for a while, but I couldn't figure out what I'd do that would feel fresh and then I came up with this subversion of sorts. Hanahaki AUs usually involve someone pining for their love and refusing to let go of it because it means so much to them. I thought I'd write about someone who doesn't have it—and simultaneously wants and doesn't want it—and wishes ill on the person he loves by hoping their love has it. And what better era to situate it than Hickmanvengers? You don't need to know Hickmanvengers to enjoy it, though.

I'm extremely proud of this one because it's one of the best fics I've written if I'm allowed to toot my own horn for a sec! Please let me because it's so rare for me to feel like I don't want to rip apart chunks of my fics and sew them back whole again, new and improved. I think this is one of my most complete fics in that way; I can probably tweak it, but I'm satisfied with nearly all of it if not all of it.

Anyway, I was in a slump and then suddenly the old magic returned and I slipped back into the writing style I used to have back in the mid-2010s except better. I could actually see that I've developed as a writer even if I'm still learning. But the atmosphere, the sensory lines, and the rhythm returned. I like the pace of this a lot and feel like it follows Steve's relentless rage, much like the unmoored, slower pace of "Apricity" reminds me of a colder Steve who never fully woke up from the ice.

Tagging @kiyaar, @meidui, @sineala, @whenas-in-silks, @sabrecmc, @magicasen, and two artists (rec your art!<3): @kappamairi & @massivespacewren

[truessences]

Ramblings: Tom Holland's career

I'm going to do a couple of other posts about Insomniac's Spider-Man 2, I played it the week it came out and I've just been watching clips and videos and I loved it. But anyway, this is about Tom Holland.

So, I've been of the opinion that while Tom is a fantastic actor, he keeps choosing projects (or his agent is) that he's either too good for, or the writing for them is less than stellar.

So here is a list of his films that I've seen. I haven't seen The Crowded Room but I heard it wasn't good but that Tom was good in it, which isn't surprising, story of his life I think.

The Impossible Lucas Bennett - First live action film, he's fantastic in this, should have been nominated. Made me cry.

How I Live Now Isaac - Weird little movie but he's good in it. Also made me tear up.

In the Heart of the Sea Thomas Nickerson - I forget about this one but he's fine it, the movie is fine.

Captain America: Civil War Peter Parker / Spider-Man - His Spider-Man debut and though he has a small part, he's great. Great debut.

The Lost City of Z Jack Fawcett - He plays the older version of the son and it's sad what's implied that happens to them but he's fine in this. His little mustache though had me cackling.

Pilgrimage The Novice / Brother Diarmuid - This movie is interesting and good and he's very good in it. Apparently while filming this, he and Jon Bernthal were sending in their tapes for Spider-Man and The Punisher lol.

Spider-Man: Homecoming Peter Parker / Spider-Man - Great solo film, felt like a John Hughes movie wrapped in comic book pajamas. I really love his suit, I guess we call it the "Stark Suit" since in the games, that's what it's called.

The Current War Samuel Insull - I don't remember him in this movie at all.

Avengers: Infinity War - Loved him in this, still wish he got to interact with Steve more than he did. I don't like the Iron Spider suit that much, but his scene with the snap was great, they knew who they had and capitalized on it.

Avengers: Endgame - Not in this one as much as IW, but I liked the scene where he has the gauntlet and he says "Hi, I'm Peter Parker" and Carol is like "Hey Peter Parker..."

Spider-Man: Far From Home - I feel like people are really hard on this movie, I love it. It was my fave Spidey movie for a while. I really loved the whole Mysterio thing. There are some things I might have wanted done differently but I overall loved it. I also love his Upgraded Suit and I liked how he used his intelligence to fight at the end.

Spies in Disguise Walter Beckett - I thought this was cute, it was fun and he does a great job with voice acting.

Dolittle Jip - the movie was not good and his role is small, but the voice acting was fine.

Onward Ian Lightfoot - Cute movie, made me tear up, the voice acting was really good. Love the brother relationship in this.

The Devil All the Time Arvin Russell - This should have been a mini series but he's good in it.

Cherry Cherry - Not a good movie but he's fine. He does despair very well lol.

Chaos Walking Todd Hewitt - Not a good movie, lots of potential, might have worked better as a tv series since it's a book series. Also, should have been made in the boom of YA dystopian movies or maybe now thanks to The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes coming out. But he's fine it.

Spider-Man: No Way Home - Great movie, really fun, the emotional aspects of this movie he does so well. Yes it sucks that none of the villains in this movie are HIS villains but it just goes to show that he needs to have his own Green Goblin, can you imagine the PTSD that would come from that?

Uncharted Nathan Drake - I actually very much like this movie, I watch it often on Netflix lol. It's probably a movie I've put on repeat. It's not great but it's not as bad as people were saying. I've only played maybe 2 hours of the first game so I'm not nostalgic lol. I think he's good in it, and it's the first time I looked at him and was like "oh... he's an adult" and was attracted to him lol. I think he's handsome but he always just skewed young to me but after this, I was like... oh that's a man.

A lot of his career is Spider-Man and maybe he doesn't like that anymore, maybe he feels like he's being stuck since his Non Spider-Man movies haven't been well received, but I don't think that's the case. I feel like he isn't stuck, he just needs to take this break he said he wanted to take, and reevaluate his choices.

And when he's ready, he needs to be in a Romantic Comedy (Rom-Com), like a pure Rom-Com. Also, let him keep his own accent, I know this man is British lol but I haven't seen him use his own accent in a movie in a while. He can be a college student, or a young adult just trying to find love. Put him and Zendaya in a rom-com together, capitalize more on their chemistry lol. But not really, I'm just kidding, I just couldn't think of anyone but Saoirse Ronan would be good!

Let him do a road trip brother movie with Jamie Bell, since they look so much alike. Or let him do an action drama with Jamie Bell lol. Or some kind of family drama movie with Jamie Bell. Do something with Jamie Bell.

I know he's going to be playing Fred Astaire soon, which that will be interesting. He'll be dancing, which we know he can do, and singing, which can he still do well? Not that Fred Astaire could sing so it doesn't really matter. But do a musical for fun, something light.

If he wants to do something gritty, then that's okay, oooooo he should do a horror film. That'd be interesting to see.

I think he needs to not worry about doing franchise things right now. Just let Spider-Man be the franchise, because Chaos Walking and Uncharted didn't turn out the way I guess they were hoping though I think Uncharted could get a sequel. Shoot for 2026 because then Tom will be 31 or so and people can stop complaining that he's too young.

But I just feel like, he's too talented to not act anymore. I want to see him in more things, I want to see him win. I think he wins as Peter Parker/Spider-Man even with his detractors, I like him a lot.

As for Spider-Man, after finishing Spider-Man 2 and how they handled the symbiote (which I have plenty to say about that too), I really want to see Tom Holland's Spidey tackle that storyline. They already set it up by Tom Hardy's Venom leaving behind a piece of the symbiote in Tom's world. Plus, with where we left him, he's pretty vulnerable I'd say. I think he would do it so well, I'm not sure how much more of Spider-Man he has in him, but I need at least one more trilogy from him *cries*. If the MCU and Sony were smart, which in some aspects, they're clearly not lol, they would give Tom another trilogy, or at least 4 or 5 more movies and in one of them, introduce Miles and then bam, a clear out for Tom to leave (they could even have another Peter from another universe appear who isn't Tom if they want to keep a Peter) and have Miles for a while.

But anyway, I wish the best for Tom Holland's career, he's too talented and he deserves some movie wins, that aren't Spider-Man. Rom Com I feel like is the best course corrector to do. Even if it just ends up on Hulu... like have ya'll seen Rye Lane?

But just some ramblings that I've had on my mind for a while.

[irongenious-blog]

It hadn’t been too long ago since Banner had rushed through a portal to hug Tony. Now it was the other way around. It was Tony stepping his feet on Earth once again and hugging the hell out of the man once he saw him. Even as a futurist he hadn’t expected to be in Wakanda, hugging his friend. He had expected them all to be dead. He had expected not to make it back. Because there was no salvation from all of this. Was there? And yet, here they were. Both alive still. It gave him hopes once again. It tugged at his brain cells to act once more.

“You’re here. You’re actually here.” he voiced out, huskily as he squeezed the man’s shoulder. A reassurance to himself. 

sc // @ragecontained

[funnefatale]

wanted to make a post ranting about how much tlat fucked over val but it's so bad that it isn't worth the brain power it would take to write an essay so here's a list of bullshit. tlat spoilers obviously

this movie just unnecessarily made val into a slutty bisexual who has commitment issues? like, why was she like "an orgy sounds great" while thorjane (the straights) were like ew

the way they reduced her to the token black friend who is there purely to support the white mains??? like that was the vibe I got from the trailer but this was somehow worse??? she got virtually nothing???

why are the asgardians respecting thor more than val when she's their king and the one whose been taking care of them while thor's been fucking around having his fifteenth midlife crisis???

tessa said that there was a version of the script where her whole storyline was just about finding a queen and she had to step in because it was dehumanizing and the focus on val needed to be about her being a person who happened to be queer... but where was this person? we got some grrl power king status scenes and a couple of blink and you'll miss them lines about the valkyrior and that's it

how did we not get a single flashback about the valkyrior even though we know an extra was cast a valkyrie

she got nerf'd and kicked out of the final battle and was absent for like most of the last 30 minutes

some kids got more of a hero moment in the final battle than val did

pretty sure she actually had more screen time in ragnarok than in tlat

she had literally no character development or plot. she is literally just a body there to fight

no fr there's this whole ass scene where she's basically a body for korg?? it was very strange and didn't serve a purpose but she had to do it while because I guess thorjane are too important to do it

thor says that zeus was his childhood hero when it was previously val, and like yeah you can have more than one hero but come on

we are three movies deep, why doesn't val have a first name??? tessa implied she would get a name and then she just didn't????

val doesn't get to talk about her beloved herself - it's just korg babbling at her about her commitment issues and mentions an ex girlfriend

val lowkey compares jane to her sisters but their entire friendship is basically offscreen

there's this bit where korg says thor doesn't discriminate who he loves and it cuts to a montage of thor with a bunch of white women and idk that feels like an attack on the idea of a black woman being his love interest

also this isn't about val but thor's characterization was just so fucking awful this entire movie like holy shit who the fuck was that man baby because that was not the person at the end of ragnarok or even iw/endgame. like, what the fuck did taika do to my man??? but that may need to be its own post

in conclusion this movie sucks ass. is it queerbaiting? no, val is explicitly queer (and korg but who cares about that pile of rocks), but it's not a good movie and just a horrible movie for val in particular. if you're a qpoc or a woc who was excited to see val finally get her moment in the sun then don't even bother

[elysiadjarin]

Sword and Shield

Part 1: https://elysiadjarin.tumblr.com/post/652827986465275904/sword-and-shield

Tags: Bad Batch x reader (you), fem!coded, poly!relationship, multi-part series, nonhuman!reader, Echo later on.

Warnings: Only some mentions of war, otherwise have at it!

2: Familiarity

You took in a deep breath, then slipped off your bag and set it down on the ground. Turning, you looked pleadingly to Rex, who decided to help you out behind his hidden smirk.

He held out his hand to you. “Permission to Transfer?” he asked the initial question to begin the Transference.

You took his hand readily. “Transfer Granted,” you said quietly, feeling that familiar tightness in your gut as the process began.

“Blaster,” Rex’s voice became a sharp command.

Almost without thinking, used to the process, you allowed the sensation of your cells shifting to complete their movement. With an odd sort of sucking sensation, you closed your eyes and Transferred.

Startled noises made you open your eyes to note your point of view from right above the blaster now held in Rex’s hand. The Transference had been completed successfully. Rex spun the blaster, using the Bond you’d forged between you and him to request a switch of weapons. You morphed the weapon in his hands into an IWS, hefting it in his hands. Another request as he swung his arm behind him, feet shifting in practiced movements to reveal that you’d Shifted into a giant scythe. One more request, and Rex straightened to hold out a Vibro-shiv in his hand.

“Hence why she’s called Shiv,” Rex remarked somewhat dryly, flipping the shiv in his hands.

You let a silhouette of your head, shoulders, arms, and torso materialize over Rex’s shoulder. It was a method of easy communication with others and a way to reveal your presence a little more visibly than just through a mental Bond with a Handler.

Rex nodded at you. “Bond Dissolution,” he said, allowing you to begin the Dissolution of the Transference. He tossed the Shiv, allowing your body to replace the weapon before it even hit the floor.

You shook your head a little to reorient yourself. Reaching down, you picked your bag back up. “I’ve been working with Commander Rex and the 501st for a while, but it’s a bit difficult to work with a large force and manage being passed from one person to another. Being a living weapon requires not only an intimidate knowledge of the weapons themselves but also a close working relationship with a tight-knit group in order to cater to their own individual strengths and preferences,” you explained, reaching up to rub your eye briefly. Your vision always felt a bit... off, after a Transference.

“She’s been stretched thin trying to understand and learn the fighting patterns and preferences of the entire 501st, and limiting her usage to just a few isn’t exactly the best scenario for an entire squadron’s unity,” Rex said, picking up your thread. “I thought putting her in an already-established, smaller, special-forces group would perhaps be best for increasing her effectiveness and bringing her to her best. It’s a commitment, but I’d appreciate it if you gave it a try.”

“Whoa, that’s super cool!” The large one bellowed, giving you an exhilarated grin.

A little startled, you gave him a shy smile. “Th-thanks.”

The others seemed to glance at each other almost in a non-verbal conversation, but seemed to come to a pretty swift agreement. The tattooed one turned to Rex.

“Since you’re recommending it, Commander, I suppose we’ll give it a go. Our next mission has been assigned tomorrow morning, so if she decides to join, she’ll have to probably move into the ship tonight.” He glanced at you.

Rex nodded. “Thank you for giving it a try. What do you think, Shiv?” He turned to you.

You nodded. “Of course, Commander,” you murmured, stomach flipping a little. After so long, it was actually happening. You were going to be transferred to a special ops group.

Rex nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Go and pack your things, Shiv. I’ll get the transfer settled and let the General know.”

You nodded, then turned to the group. “Um, should I just come back here? It shouldn’t take me long to pack,” you asked timidly.

The leader nodded at you. “We’ll be right here. I’m Sergeant Hunter, if you need to ask for me.”

“Oh, right! Name’s Wrecker!” The burly guy said with a wave.

You had to smile, waving back.

“I’m Tech,” the one with glasses introduced, adjusting his goggles.

“Crosshair,” the white-haired one grunted, seemingly disinterested in the whole affair. Though, he did glance at you.

“Thank you. I’ll be back,” you promised, looking to Rex.

He dismissed you with a nod, and you headed back to your bunk.

Sinking down onto the bunk, you stared down at your trembling fingers. You hadn’t even realized how nervous you’d really been until it was all said and done. Shaking your head, you dropped your head into your hands and tried to work through the muck of feelings that stuck in your chest.

You were... scared. Excited. Apprehensive. Curious. Nervous. Glad. Sad.

“Yo Shiv- hey, what’s wrong?”

You started, looking up to see Fives and Kix approaching your bunk. You gave them a bit of a sad smile, looking down at your hands now clasped in your lap.

“It’s... it’s finally happened,” you whispered, trying to wrap your own mind around it.

“Happened? Wha-“ Kix paused, eyes widening. “Wait, are you getting transferred?”

You nodded shakily. “Y-yeah.”

Fives slung his arm around your shoulders. “Well. Congrats, Shivvie!” he tried to cheer, but it came out a bit sadly.

You smiled up at both of them. “I’m gonna miss you guys, you know,” you said with a light laugh.

Kix sighed. “We’re gonna miss you too, Shiv. But I’m guessing that since this opportunity is one that you’re taking, so it must be good, right?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah... yeah, it’s... it’s a good one,” you admitted. “I’m- I’m joining Clone Force 99.”

“Whoa,” Fives blurted. “You’re joining the Bad Batch? That’s great for you, Shiv! I heard they’re weird but pretty good at what they do,” he said, clearly impressed. “I mean, Commander Rex helped create that force.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I...” Still, you had to let your shoulders slump a little. “I... I hope it goes well.”

“You’re gonna knock em dead, Shiv,” Kix encouraged, patting your shoulder. “We’re gonna miss you, but you have our commlinks. Come and get drinks with us at the 79s whenever you stop by for a break or something.”

You nodded, smiling up at both of them. You’d miss their company, no matter what happened. Kix and Fives had really been your pillars of support throughout your time with the 501st, and you’d really supported each other through... well, the Battle of Lola Sayu.

With a sigh, you looked around. “I have to pack. I have to get to the ship by tonight.”

“We’ll help you out,” Fives offered immediately, standing.

You shook your head at him. “Thanks, but... you mind just telling the others I’d like to say bye? If they’re around? I kinda... I need some headspace,” you admitted.

Kix nodded, grabbing Fives’ arm to keep him from protesting. “Got it, Shiv. We’ll send ‘em over. Good luck!”

You waved, biting back tears as you tried to smile.

New beginnings, after all, usually meant leaving something behind.

~

Taking a breath, you headed into Hangar Bay Six again. You’d said goodbye to the rest of the 501st, promising to keep in touch when possible and wishing them the best of luck. They’d been sad to see you go, but they’d all been encouraging and hopeful.

After all, you reflected, they were the ones who knew the difficulties you all faced working together. They’d seen how thin you’d been spread trying to accommodate and learn to work intimately with all of them.

Walking up to the Havoc Marauder, you headed up the ramp with your bags. “Hello?” you called uncertainly at the mouth of the ship, not wanting to just barge in.

Hunter rounded the corner, nodding to you. “Welcome aboard. Your quarters are just down here,” he said, heading down the corridor.

You followed him, glancing around at the ship in order to get familiar with the layout. It was a pretty standard ship by all accounts, so you figured you wouldn’t find it too hard to learn where things were. You followed as he ducked into a room, the door sliding open.

The room itself wasn’t too bad, a bit small but that was to be expected. In all honesty, you wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d asked you to share quarters, so it slightly surprised you that they gave you your own personal quarter. A small fresher was tucked into the corner, though it only had a sink and a toilet.

“The showers are down the hall, they’re shared.” Hunter jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

You just smiled, setting your bags down on the bunk. “Thank you. I honestly kinda expected having to share quarters. This is really nice,” you said honestly.

He blinked at you. “You shared bunks with the 501st?”

You tilted your head. “Yeah?”

He shook his head, but didn’t say anything else. “Feel free to get comfortable. You can look around the ship and get used to it whenever you want. The galley is on the other side of the ship, and everyone’s quarters are on this side.”

You nodded, belatedly realizing that he didn’t even stop to see your reaction before ducking back through the door and walking off. With a glance around, you decided to unpack. This would be your home for a while, after all. Might as well make the best of it.

~

After looking around the ship and getting familiar with it, you found yourself wandering into what seemed to be a common, shared space. You’d taken your mug to the galley and made some caf, stowing away some of your own tea paraphernalia in an empty shelf out of the way.

Tech sat in the room, going through datapads in his own corner. He looked up, observing you through his goggles with a blink.

You gave him a hesitant smile. “Um, do you mind if I sit?”

He blinked, then nodded. “Oh, sure. Anyone can come in here, it’s a common room,” he said, motioning to the seats that were scattered around. “Oh, uh... Hunter said to give you the rundown, by the way.”

You crossed the room, sitting in a chair close to him. “Rundown?” you asked, setting your mug down.

He handed you a datapad. “This is the data I’ve gathered and compiled about Force 99. I thought it might be useful to you since you said you need to work closely with a group, and I’ve been meaning to create a profile for a while now anyway so it was a good excuse,” he seemed to be babbling a bit, reaching up to adjust his goggles and avoiding direct eye contact with you.

You glanced down at the display screen to see Hunter’s name at the top, a chunk of material following it.

Tech was still rambling on, fiddling with another datapad. “I mean, I know we’re also supposed to get to know you, but I guessed that letting you know about all of our desired mutations and details about our weapons preferences might be a good way to start, you know? Since you also said you’re a weapons expert, I mean. I added some footage of our missions as well for reference and all, since I tend to record most of them.”

You smiled, deciding to cut in and stop his nervous rambling. “Thank you so much, Tech. Oh, is it okay if I call you that?”

He blinked, looking at you briefly. “Oh, sure. I mean, it’s my name. Uh, what should I-?”

You laughed a little, tucking your feet up onto the chair. “You can either call me (Name) or Shiv, I like and answer to both.” You pulled out your own datapad. “Do you mind if I transfer this data to my own pad? That way I can make notes without stealing yours.”

He nodded. “Oh, sure, of course. The information was compiled for you, anyway.”

“Thank you, Tech,” you said again, touched that he’d gone that far. “I appreciate it, a lot. It’ll really help me try to integrate myself in the best way.” You gave him a smile.

He hesitantly nodded, taking back the datapad from you after you’d finished transferring the files.

You quickly lost yourself in the wealth of information, making notes and highlighting some key characteristics that you noted in the files. Tech had really done an immaculate job, considering that you’d been an unexpected arrival and addition to the group. As you continued learning more about the group, you began to understand why they were nicknamed the “Bad Batch” by the others. It barely irked you, though you knew that the premise of the whole name was rather... derogatory.

You’d already been treated much like a clone for most of your life, anyway. You’d been born a weapon, a tool, nothing but cannon fodder ever since this war had even started. Here you were, at twenty-something years old, and all you remembered was a life of surviving, living, fighting, and forcing yourself to be a tool.

The clones had welcomed you in, had given you a sense of camaraderie, understanding, and family. You’d found a sense of purpose despite your status as an outcast. And the more you read about the Bad Batch, the more you found yourself understanding why Rex might have specifically considered this particular group to assign you to.

You completely lost track of time, going over the information and committing it to memory, taking time to make meticulous notes about their weaponry. You only stopped once you’d gone through the written information, turning to Tech.

“Excuse me, Tech.”

Starting, he looked up at you owlishly as though he’d forgotten you even existed in the same room. “Oh- y-yes?”

“Is there a holodeck I can link to? So I can get a closer analysis of the footage?” you asked, motioning to the datapad.

“Oh, right!” He shuffled over to the other side of the room, grabbed a holoscreen, and handed it over. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” You gave him a fleeting smile, then hooked up the datapad to the holoscreen display. Putting the footage on complete mute, you began to scrutinize it frame by frame, expanding some scenes and rotating the screens to get a different vantage point. You did notice that sometimes it was harder to catch Crosshair’s movements since he was, after all, a sniper, but you did manage to isolate quite a few moments of his meticulous shots and get a bead on his location and vantage points.

You were so immersed in examining the footage, highlighting reels, and going through your well-versed motions that the feeling of someone tapping your shoulder well and truly took you off-guard. You instantly froze, eyes narrowing as your awareness instantly honed in on your surroundings. It only took half a second to recall where exactly you were, and you shook yourself with a sharp inhale.

You turned to the person who had tapped you. “Sorry-“

Hunter observed you with a piercing look. “Why did you freeze?” He demanded.

You blinked, mouth opening, scrambling for an answer. “Um- I lost track of my surroundings and had to regroup myself, Sergeant,” you found yourself answering almost mechanically, the tone of his voice forcing an answer from your conditioned mind.

“Why would you freeze? Why wouldn’t you immediately react in order to assess a threat?” Hunter asked ruthlessly, crossing his arms.

The question felt oddly familiar. It didn’t take much for you to find an answer. “As a weapon, sir, my first reactions are necessarily different from most other people,” you said quietly, heart pounding in your chest. It didn’t help that you now knew that his enhanced senses most likely heard it. “If I were to immediately react, I would end up thoughtlessly killing the person or object that had surprised me.” You swallowed, looking down at your feet. “I learned my mistakes the hard way, by completely destroying everything and everyone within five meters of me.”

A silence fell in the room, while you ruthlessly tried to push away the memories that loomed at the edge of your mind.

Hunter finally spoke. “Understood.” He cleared his throat. “I... apologize.”

You looked up, eyes widening. “N-no need to apologize, Sergeant. You should know, especially since I-I’m supposed to be working with you.”

He nodded, then glanced behind you at the frozen footage. “I see that Tech has given you the files he compiled.”

You started, then turned around and scooped up the datapad. “Yes sir, I’ve been going over the information and trying to compile all the necessary information I can before the- the mission tomorrow,” you explained hurriedly.

He nodded. “I appreciate the dedication. You’ve been here for four chrons. You might want to get some food.”

You stared down at the clock on the datapad, realizing that it really had been hours since you started. Reaching up, you dragged a hand through your hair a little ruefully.

“Thank you.” You gave Hunter a sheepish smile. “I probably should. I tend to... get lost in my work.”

He nodded, then wordlessly stepped back out of the room.

Tech glanced at you, still working on his own stuff.

You sighed and set down the datapad, turning to Tech. “I should go get myself something to eat. Can I bring you something, Tech?” you offered.

He looked up at you. “Oh- that’s- I mean, you don’t have to, I-“

You just quirked him a smile. “You’ve been here the whole time, too. I’ll go get us both something to eat.” Giving him a wave, you headed out to go find the galley and something to eat.

You poked around the available ingredients in the galley before deciding on a quick but filling dish, whipping up enough for everyone. Hesitating after you finished cleaning up, you decided to at least try. Leaving two portions on the counter, you grabbed scrap paper and scribbled Crosshair’s and Wrecker’s names on them. Leaving them for the other two to find, you grabbed the other three portions and headed back to the common room.

Setting down the bowls, you handed one to Tech. “Nothing fancy, but it should go down easy,” you laughed a little.

He took it, surprise flickering over his face. “Th-thanks.”

You nodded, then grabbed another portion. “I’ll be right back.” Leaving your own bowl on the table, you went to go find Hunter. You found him in the cockpit after ten minutes of searching, making him look up as you approached the doorway.

You gave him a hesitant smile, holding out the bowl. “Um, maybe you’ve already eaten but... I made some for everyone, if you’re... hungry,” you said, trailing off and starting to second-guess yourself. What if he didn’t like that kind of food, or thought you had some sort of ulterior motive? What if-

But after staring at your for half a minute, he got up and approached, almost gingerly taking the bowl from you. “Thanks,” he said.

You nodded and skittered away, barely waiting to see his response or hear anything else. Mortified, you paused in the hallway and clapped your hands to your cheeks, shaking yourself. It was fine. You didn’t have to be thatnervous, honestly. It wasn’t like you’d done something ridiculous, just offered him some food is all. It was normal. Completely normal. Right?

You decided to return to your spot and drown your embarrassment in your research again. After all, you did have good motivation. Tomorrow morning would be your first mission.

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Regarding: Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness

I’ve been having an ongoing discussion with mutuals, and I’ve put this opinion out there in posts previously, but in light of the incredible content that has already aired in Loki on Disney+, I feel the overwhelming need to go on record now.

The thought and care put into the crafting of the first episode shows some of the best that Marvel/Disney is capable of, especially when working with an Actor of Tom Hiddleston’s caliber. 

This is no slight against any other Actor in the MCU cadre. But since Doctor Strange/IW/Endgame I’ve been craving the same sort of loving care and attention given to Stephen Strange and his story, which is so rife with loss and pain, fertile ground for the sort of PTSD that he would battle quietly without asking for any help from anyone. 

Namely, because he believes that 1) his needs are the last needs in the multiverse that deserve addressing, and 2) he still feels like he has a lifetime of penance to do for the man he was before he found his true purpose, exacerbated now by the tremendous guilt he carries about having to sacrifice Tony--not only a true servant of mankind, but a loving father and husband--in order to save the Universe. 

We all know (at least those of us who love Stephen Strange, in both his onscreen and comic book incarnations) that he would have been absolutely willing to be that sacrifice himself. To die so no one else would have to, in order to defeat Thanos. That’s one of the key reasons it took him exploring 14+ million timelines to conclude there was only one wherein humanity won the war. 

This is such an essential part of his nature, and you can bet your sweet bippy that that is one of the things that drew Benedict Cumberbatch to the role. A flawed, all-too human man who grows from his pain and experience into a Hero---a Hero that doesn’t even recognize that about himself. Strange’s story arc, and the astonishing range of experiences and emotions that are part of his journey, are some of the finest meat that any Actor worth his name would chomp at the bit to dig into.

Remember please, that Marvel allowed Benedict to read the whole IW script (I’m guessing Endgame too, for the complete picture) when most/all of the other Actors did not have that opportunity---so they at least understood that his method of working required him to understand the character’s motivations in full. This is testament to both the character and the Actor, imho. Which, to me, means they have no bloody excuse to underserve Stephen Strange (and the Actor who brings him to life) in a film that is SUPPOSED TO BE HIS SEQUEL. But with most of what I’ve read online, all the hype about the numerous cameos by dozens of other MCU characters...all the gushing that has been done about the powers of The Scarlet Witch and, as I’m guessing, we’re gonna see about Loki Odinson going forward in his series...I fear mightily that Stephen’s story is going to be secondary to all the glitter and hype of everyone else. One mutual in particular urges me not to give up hope---but I can’t help myself. I love Stephen so desperately that it hurts to think of the neglect I foresee coming, if I judge well by Marvel/Disney’s storied history.

I hope like hell to be pleasantly gobsmacked to find I have been worrying and railing about this for nothing. But only time will tell, after all, and the delay that came before covid even happened always made me feel like Strange was a secondary character to Marvel, not flashy enough to be their box office juggernaut. I gonna swear right here, right now, that if my Hero doesn’t just get the justice he (and the Actor playing him) deserve, I’ll be done with the entire Marvel franchise. You can take that to the bank.

Marvel/Disney- please, please, please prove me wrong.

[alirhi]

okay. let's do this shit.

Guess what, bitches? Mama bear's back and angry all over again. Remember when I said I might dive into a ragepost about how Bucky's treated after completing the one about Loki? This is it. This is the post. Welcome to fucking Thunderdome.

I will actually try to keep it civil. No promises, but I'll try. and I will not be accepting "constructive criticism" about my rage. Just so we're clear.

Got it? Good. Let's dive in.

In case you don't want to read the whole thing (I know I get wordy) here's what this whole post will boil down to: BUCKY NEVER HAD A FUCKING CHOICE. NEVER. NOT ONCE IN HIS ENTIRE ADULT LIFE.

Now, quick reminder: I don't read comics. I know nothing about Bucky's comic canon, except what Sebastian liked to bring up as often as possible during TWS/CW promotions: at some point, Bucky boned Nat. XD Since Bucky only exists as a Marvel property, I won't be bitching about other source material being disrespected like I did with Loki. This is all MCU, my dudes. And honestly? That's enough, because though we don't see nearly enough of Bucky for my liking, we do manage to get a rich, deep backstory to him in the material we're given, partly thanks to better writing in the early days of the MCU, and partly thanks to Sebastian Stan's phenomenal acting. Unlike the writers of the Loki series, Seb knows how to show, not tell. And gods, what stories those eyes show...

Let's start with the army. In an old post illustrating what an absolute BAMF Bucky Barnes truly is, I mistakenly said he enlisted, and a kind soul educated me on the incredible attention to detail Marvel used to pay - in this case, Bucky's ID number. 32557038. As this kind, eagle-eyed soul pointed out to me, the first two digits of that number - 32 - signify that Bucky was drafted, specifically from the NY, NJ, DE area (that last part is rather obvious, as Bucky and Steve are from Brooklyn lol). Bucky didn't choose to go to war. He was drafted. He was forced to fight, or go to prison.

Bucky was born in 1917, which means - again, as someone pointed out to me a while back - he came of age during the Great Depression. As a child, he would likely have seen his parents living comfortably and able to shower each other and him and his sister with gifts and fun memories, and then POOF. Stock market crashes when he's only 12-years-old, and life becomes brutal and painful. He manages to have some fun with his best friend Steve, and spends his teens/early 20s chasing girls and keeping his stupid, stubborn, tiny friend from getting beaten to death.

Steve constantly has something to prove. He's absolutely got what my mom always called "little man's disease", and Bucky's just doing his best not to roll his eyes too much at this asthmatic chihuahua constantly trying to beat up Tibetan mastiffs. While Steve keeps lying on his enlistment forms (an actual crime) trying again and again to get into the army and prove what a badass he is (definitely not), Bucky's had enough trauma and upheaval in his life and he just wants his stupid friend to calm tf down and live. Enjoy the fact that he doesn't have to go to war and get his limbs blown off.

And then he gets fucking drafted. This sweet, resigned realist who knows exactly how dangerous the war really is, is forced to put on a uniform and go fight strangers alongside other strangers thousands of miles from everything he knows. And on his last night of freedom, when he just wants to hang out with his friend, see some cool gadgets, and dance with a pretty girl, his stupid angry chihuahua friend feels the need to lie and try to enlist again.

Okay. Gotta get back on track. Ragepost about mistreatment of Bucky, not how much Steve annoys me. Sorry. Anyway...

Bucky's drafted, accepts his shitty lot with a brave smile, and is shipped off to Europe, where he is captured by HYDRA and presumed by the Allies to be KIA. Instead, he's strapped down, tortured, and given the HYDRA version of the super serum against his will. Steve rescues him, and Bucky knows he can't leave his idiot friend to his own devices to get his head blown off, so he dives right back into the fray. And then he falls off a cliff, loses most of his left arm, and is declared dead...again. This one's pretty damn valid, though lol. Without the serum no one knew he'd been shot up with, there is no way he would have survived that fall.

Here is where Bucky's story gets truly heartbreaking: His autonomy, his ability to consent is stripped from him through electroshock torture/brainwashing. The trigger words are conditioned into him during this process, and boom. Ten words in Russian, and Bucky Barnes is gone. Even the confused, hurting shadow of him is gone, leaving only a perfectly obedient killing machine, with Bucky's pretty face. He's strong as all hell, though, so they can't keep him fully under their control for long, not without more torture, when the disorientation of being fucking frozen wears off on longer missions.

I cannot stress this point enough, guys: Bucky. Had. No. Choice. Not like the draft, where his choices (go and get shot at, refuse and go to jail, or dodge and run to Canada) just suck. No, he literally didn't have a choice. He had his ability to choose stripped from him. If that's too complex a concept to really sink in, try this: His brain was fucking raped. Repeatedly. For decades. Nothing the Winter Soldier ever did was Bucky's fault. Nothing. Ever. Not remotely, no matter how you fucking slice it. Bucky is not an assassin. I almost said "not a killer", but he was a soldier, and a sharpshooter. He definitely killed when he was himself, but that was in a war, not a series of assassinations.

So far, imo, so good. This is just a rundown of Bucky's pre-show backstory. I don't love what he had to suffer, but I do love how it was treated in the movies. People were afraid of him, but when they knew the whole situation, Steve, Nat, and Sam rallied behind him. Natasha had plenty of reason to want the Winter Soldier dead; he'd tried to kill her multiple times and almost succeeded. Sam had no reason to help Bucky at all; he didn't know him, didn't trust him, and again, TWS had tried to kill him. But he stood by Steve, and when Bucky showed the clear difference between himself and TWS, Sam stood by him, too, and fought alongside him.

And it's very realistic, imo, that Tony didn't give a single fuck that Bucky had no choice. He watched this man murder both of his parents on tape. If TWS had killed my dad and I saw proof of it, I'd try to kill Bucky, too. Grief wins out over logic. Most emotions usually do. And that's a very important point we're going to come back to in a few minutes.

Bucky was really only in like ten minutes at most of IW and Endgame, and for multiple reasons I hate those movies, so I'm just gonna skip them, kay? Kay. On to the main event!

Here's where I get pissed off. Even if I didn't have an unhealthy attachment to this character, or the depth of appreciation for his tragic backstory that I do, the lack of continuity between the movies and the show alone would still piss me off. It always does. Don't even get me started on Joss "Continuity? What continuity?" Whedon and his (iconic, but flawed) shows. Ahem. Back on track...

Let me just get one little thing out of the way real quick: I fucking LOVE The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. I love it. This show amazed me when I first watched it, and I still love it after many more viewings lol. I have only ever watched it all the way through without skipping over as much John Walker shit as possible the one time lol but I love how Sam and Bucky interact, and I fucking adore how Sam's arc was treated. I just wish they'd show the same care and attention to Bucky.

Because what they did to Bucky in this show is a fucking travesty. There was a tiny ray of hope in the pilot, when he called out Dr. Bitchface for being a terrible shrink. I thought that would be the start of him realizing he needed to find someone else and ignore the damaging shit that woman was telling him. But...nope. No such luck.

The show really had a strong start, I'll give it that. We see Bucky having nightmares of his time as TWS and struggling to hide how his traumatic memories are affecting him as he tries to live in the world again. He befriends the father of one of HYDRA's victims, which can't be good for Bucky (and we're shown it's definitely not when he sees the shrine in Yori's home to his late son) but it's sweet, how he's trying to connect and reach out to someone who's hurting and lonely.

They drop the ball a little with the whole... Bucky can hack a fucking car, but can't figure out Tinder thing. Had they just run with the fandom interpretation of the tiger photos line, that it shows that Bucky is bi and left it at that, I'd have been okay with it (and no, that is not because I ship Sam/Bucky. it's because Bucky is and always has been a certified nerd who loves technology and has consistently shown very little issue learning to use new gadgets). The outdated flip phone he handed his terrible court-mandated shrink was a burner; I liked that theory when I read it, especially since it's the only time we see him even holding a phone that old lol. This all could have fit the "Bucky is a sassy bisexual nerd" narrative and it'd be okay. Instead, the director was like "NOOOOOO that line was just to show how old he is and how he can't figure out all this newfangled technology!" Woman, you had him remotely driving someone else's vehicle with a tablet. That is NOT a man who can't figure out a damn smart phone!

But that's just a minor annoyance. What fills me with absolute rage is how everyone - not just the shitty therapist who lashes out at and purposely triggers her traumatized patients, but EVERYONE - Sam, Zemo, people who should fucking know better ALL treat him like he's a psychopath and a ticking time bomb. Like he chose to take the serum and he chose to kill for HYDRA, and he's just seen the error of his ways. *barf*

Bucky in the movies is established to be a victim, through and through. His guilt over what he was forced to do is natural, and that he sees himself as a monster makes sense... but that doesn't mean it's correct. The one and only thing I ever liked about Steve Rogers is at least he got it. He pointed out that none of it was Bucky's fault, he tried to show him that he was worth saving. That's the other reason I refuse to talk about Endgame. This post will get a WHOLE LOT LONGER and a lot fucking angrier if I open that door.

Zemo supposedly knows everything about HYDRA and super soldiers... So why does he treat Bucky like he's a corrupt serial killer? (this, for the record, is why I don't like Zemo) Why does he never point out that Bucky was given the serum against his will, or that his actions, when he had control of them, proved that he was never corrupted? Bucky never wanted to become superhuman. Bucky didn't even want to fucking fight!

Sam, despite constantly resisting the label, is shown very clearly to be Bucky's friend. By episode 3, he cares. He worries about how Bucky is getting lumped in with the other super soldiers in Zemo's speech... But he never really defends him. He says "what about Bucky?" but he doesn't point out that Bucky's a good man, he's fought so hard to help people, he does everything he can to avoid killing... And that fucking speech in episode 5. I was with him on "you gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are." I was like "YEAH! Tell him, Sam! Bucky, you're WORTH SAVING, boo! Your value does not hinge on someone else's opinion of you!" And then... Sam dropped the ball.

He not only continued the disturbing pattern of victim-blaming in this show, and in Marvel/Disney properties in general, but he gave really dangerously bad advice! No one in their right mind, mental health professional or no, would EVER tell a traumatized former assassin (whether he was responsible for his actions or not) to go confront his victims' families out of the blue with no warning and no one to mediate and keep things from going to shit. Yori already knew his son had been murdered because he was in the "wrong place, wrong time." How is it being "of service" to tell him you're the one who killed him?! Remember how I said Tony's reaction to learning the full truth about his parents' deaths was valid and would be an important point later? Hi! Welcome to later. THAT is the natural reaction to facing the man who murdered your loved one(s). And even if Yori didn't get angry and lash out, HOW IS IT "HELPING" HIM OR BRINGING HIM "CLOSURE" TO KNOW THAT HIS FRIEND KILLED HIS FUCKING SON?!?!?! This man befriended him, bonded with him, watched him grieve... And now he's learning this is the man who caused all his pain and heartache to begin with? That is so toxic and psycho I just... I can't even... UGH.

And then there's the equally toxic and damaging "deeply traumatized person just needed a stern talking to and a hug to be ALL BETTER AGAIN" ending. I loved seeing Bucky happy and socializing, but it was too soon, and it was unearned. And it sends a fucking awful message to people actually struggling with PTSD, and to their loved ones who don't know how to help them. Heaping more blame on them and then hugging it out is NOT helpful!

This show could have been damn near perfect with just two changes. That's all. Just two. 1) Someone, anyone, bringing up the reasons why Bucky was never a villain in his presence. Someone being in his corner and reminding him, like Steve did, that it wasn't his fault and he's not going to "snap". 2) More time devoted to Bucky's healing. Actual fucking healing, not the shit they tried to pass off as a magic fix-all. He can have his happy barbecue moment, just don't frame it as "everything's great now!" Healing isn't linear, and there will be both good days and bad. Some of the most fragile people in the world have the brightest smiles.

If we get a season 2, which this amazing show absolutely deserves, and they address this stuff, all will be forgiven in my book. Expanding on his story and his journey toward healing will help to reframe that "happily ever after" garbage as something more realistic. But as it stands now... Fuck Marvel.

[lokislittlesigyn]

// loki spoilers

This is basically a huge infodump on my thoughts about the first episode, because I doubt y’all want to sift through my trauma-ridden ramblings. I’ll make another post for the rest. This is just everything not related to the IW stuff/my reaction to that. It’s general thoughts, theories, musings.

1. When Loki gets first taken into the TVA. Is that Peggy Carter in the background? Others have suggested it might be. What would that mean??? Will we see the TVA fix the mess the Russos made with Steve/Peggy (not likely) or is it just a lookalike? Who knows..

2. A skrull at the main intake desk! Idk not super relevant just interesting!

3. I’m kind of glad they changed the... uncomfortable scene... with the robot burning his clothes off. He gets more time to react to seeing the machine itself, and he seems more shocked (”Now.. H-hang on just a minute.”) than angry (”Now hang on just a minute!”) i still feel.. horrible for him, i’m glad nobody Saw him and that the machine didn’t grab the clothes off, but still. Ehhh.. uncomfortable.

He is beautiful though, don’t get me wrong - I’d just prefer a shirtless Loki scene where he wants to be shirtless? let him do what he wants with his body?? he’s probably felt so out of control of his body, from being jotun to falling through space that any invasion of privacy like that hits extra deep...

That being said, I recognize the utility of the scene for the narrative - his lack of control, his literally being stripped of what he was before.

4. WHO IS THE MAN WITH THE CAT. What is his name. I love that he has a mug with his cat on it. But I want to know more. Who is he?

4.1 WHY DIDNT YOU LET LOKI PET THE CAT Please,,, I am begging you,,, let loki pet the cat and have something react kindly to him and purr all happily at his scratching behind their ears plea s e

5. The info sheet. Now this is just a little nitpicky tidbit, but in a previous promo they listed Loki’s height as 6′4 ft and weight as 525 lbs. This is taken directly from the comics if I’m not mistaken. However, in the actual show he’s listed as  6′2 (Tom’s height and Loki’s presumed height) but I don’t remember if his weight is the same. Is Loki 6′2? 6′4? please let me know i want to know how smol i am in comparison

6. His little aggressive shaking of the ticket at the guard makes me giggle each time.

7. The fact the turnstile hits so low on him reminds me,, I am short compared to him. Those things hit my stomach/waist. That one hit his legs. I am once again asking Loki to pick me up.

8. The cartoon with Miss Minutes introducing the TVA is wonderful, I love the art style especially. But it raises questions about Variants... I guess Variants can just, pop out of nowhere? Any action could be the wrong one? And then once you commit the wrong action you either get returned or pruned? Yikes??? And THIS ties into another thing later!

9. The trial scene. I have a hunch - a feeling, a suspicion. That one of three things may be true.

A. The Time-Keepers never actually existed. They’re fabricated, and now whoever runs the TVA is actually using the excuse of “The Time-Keepers decree it so!!!” to carry out whatever They think is right. The fact we haven’t seen the Time-Keepers makes me.. suspicious...

B. The Time-Keepers existed, but they have since passed on, however that may have happened. Now someone is doing the same as above, using the excuse of the Time-Keepers apparent dictations to run things.

C. The Time-Keepers do exist, and do run the timeline/TVA, but maybe they’re not infallible? Maybe the TVA info video is lying or incomplete in some way? Idk I just feel like, something about the TVA and how they run things has to be wrong. It has to? Something is off. Again, this will tie into another thought later...

I have no idea if any of these are actually true! But Loki’s questions of “Who’s in charge here? What do they do? What do you do?” punctuated by laughter leads me to believe he’s suspecting something too, or perhaps just trying to figure this mess out.

10. Seiðr/Magic. We see in this scene, Loki’s magic (”powers”) don’t work in the TVA. (and a quick side note, did he have to Flex like that? do you have to make me see Loki’s bare arms Flex like that? be still my heart. anyway please get that collar off of him and let him rest for five minutes) This makes me wonder.. Why isn’t Loki in his Jotun form? His pale skin and blue eyes are decided by magic, are they not? I suppose this is 2012, so perhaps Odin’s magic is keeping Loki looking like that. But if magic doesn’t work in the TVA, why would his spell reach so far? Clearly Loki’s magic isn’t what’s doing it. How is Loki not appearing as a Jotun? Is his Jotun form repressed - is pale skin his default now, rather than something hidden by magic? I need answers!

11. he sounds so scared about being “reset” please dont hurt him,,

12. cALLING LOKI A PUSSYCAT? (lokitty confirmed) I think Mobius was goading him (Mobius strikes me.. As extremely clever. He’s trying to push Loki’s buttons to see who he’s dealing with. At least, I hope so. Because if he really meant that “You were born to cause pain and suffering and death... All so that others can achieve the best versions of themselves.” and that line about killing Frigga??? No no no he is not guilty. He had no way of knowing what would happen. It wasn’t right to send Algrim up to Asgard (i think algrim wouldve found the way up anyway) but there was no intent to hurt Frigga. I really hope you’re trying to goad him, Mobius, because if you believe that I trust you much less. anyway i digress) but wow is he pushing Loki’s buttons a lot. I can’t... Blame him entirely, I understand he’s trying to make sure Loki’s on his side, maybe I’m just too soft for Loki idk. But some of that was very cruel to say. /:

12.1 AND ANOTHER THING ABOUT MOBIUS. That scene with the girl in the church?? Did that little girl kill the men? Is that young Sylvie? Or is she using an illusion to make herself look young and innocent? What’s going on!!!!

13. LOKI SNATCHING THE LITTLE TIME-TWISTER DEVICE AND STOWING IT IN HIS POCKET.... POCKET....... sorry sometimes i get so caught up about loki that i just say random words in between little noises and squeals,,, i am a silly thing

14. CASEY. CASEY??? That whole exchange is funny. Poor Loki, just trying to intimidate this guy so he can escape but - Casey doesn’t know what a fish is. to be fair.... thor doesn’t seem to know what a raccoon is... right?

15. That bit with the infinity stones is kind of funny until you realize

A. Natasha died for a paperweight

B. Tony died from paperweights

C. Loki was tortured for paperweights

D. Oh, and Gamora died for a paperweight too. And Vision. Need I go on?

Then it becomes less of exclusively “haha funny” and now it’s a mix of funny and pain and gosh, is that a good way to sum up being a Marvel/Loki fan sometimes...

16. Loki gazing at the timeline all “Is this the most powerful thing in the universe?” or something, i’m sorry i don’t remember exactly... made me think of a meme and i shall make it presently.

17. I love that Loki got to see examples of how his family loves him but the fact he’s all “I can’t go back.” really just breaks me. It’s like he can finally see they love him after all of this mess, and now he doesn’t have the chance. Please, please let him be happy. Give him some relief. This is the Loki that just came off finding out about being Jotun, falling from the Bifrost, encountering Thanos, attacking Earth, facing defeat, and now he’s being thrashed around in this wild place and has just found out he inadvertently caused Frigga’s death (he did not kill her: his actions, by mistake, lead to her murder, let me be very clear) AND Odin will die AND all the rest... And he wants to be with them.

18. Loki’s reaction to Thor suggesting the hug makes me soft. Please I want to hug this little mischief man so so so bad-

19. Skipping over the iw parts! That’s for another post because this one will be grossly long anyway.

20. “I don’t enjoy hurting people.” and “It's part of the illusion. It's the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear. A desperate play for control.” was all so, so validating. I’ve been trying to argue on Loki’s behalf for almost a solid decade. Seeing the show recognize that Loki’s not all just violence and hurting for “fun”, that he’s not unhinged and bloodthirsty.. Is so nice. It’s just so, so comforting. and it gives me hope for future episodes that they won’t go the route of “oh haha loki bullied and mistreated and stabbed thor for years!!! :)” loki cries during basically every fight with Thor and you want me to believe he stabs Thor for fun? absolutely not.

21. Theory.. Just another hunch.. So we know a fugitive variant, aka Loki, is running amok. Refer back to 8 and 9.C. What if the Time-Keepers never actually fixed the timeline into a single timeline? What if there are other timelines, and these different Loki variants have hopped over to the current one? Or, maybe the Time-Keepers did fix the timeline into a single one, and these Lokis are remnants from that huge time-war at the beginning? Time runs differently in relative spaces, they may have Just Left that war from their perspective!

I say Lokis and not Loki because we’re pretty sure there’s Female/Lady Loki, Old Man/King Loki, and possibly Young/Kid Loki. That’s at least three. From the peeks of Asgard and NYC we’ve seen from the trailers, I think we’re also getting an Asgardian King!Loki and Midgardian King/Vote!Loki. (unless our dearest variant is hopping into timelines and situating into them, but I doubt Mobius would let that happen..?) That’s five.

To further support this, keep in mind, I believe recently six (i think 6 regular and 6 rare...) different funko pops were announced for the series? I’m not sure if they’re in addition to the Loki and Mobius already released. If they are, there’s enough room for each Loki and maybe a TVA agent. One of the pops is supposed to have a buddy/companion I think? Maybe they’re making the cat guy into one, or maybe there’s something else (Throg, anyone?).

22. That is totally Lady Loki/Sylvie at the end by the way. Has to be. But why does she want the reset devices? Why did she snatch that TVA Hunter? Again, WHAT’S GOING ON

ANYWAY this was a very long post if you made it this far, I commend you.

[luna-rainbow]

I feel like a lot of my issues with What If...? right now are because a lot of the episode just feel kinda pointless to me. Like they aren't answering any of the what if questions that I've had over the years. Admittedly I liked the zombie episode because I like zombies, but I've never sat around and thought, "Gee, I wonder what would have happened if Killmonger had saved Tony in Afghanistan?" or "I wonder what would happen if all the avengers died before they could assemble?" The questions I would have liked answered are more along the lines of, "What if the other half got dusted in IW?" or "What if Pietro survived in AOU?" stuff like that. So the a lot of the questions that the show is supposedly answering I'm just not that interested in.

These past two episodes have also stopped at really odd places. Like it feels like they were just about to get to some really interesting stuff in the story and then they drop it because they either don't care, or don't have the time. The quality level of detail in certain episodes like Peggy's makes me REALLY think that they have a favoritism problem with certain characters. And of all of the stories, Peggy didn't hers to feel as concluded because we know we'll be getting more episodes about her in later seasons, whereas the rest of these as far as we know are one offs.

Sorry for the rant, lol. I just needed to get these thoughts out somewhere I guess.

Thanks for the rant 😂

I haven’t watched past episode 2 so stop me if I’m wrong, but it sounds like the usual MCU fare we’ve gotten recently? They’re picking what they think would be less controversial or more cheap-shock scenarios.

I’m trying to think about what you said of “things stop when it gets interesting” and trying to think if there’s any anime that does it better (being the same medium and length and all). I’ve only watched Gintama as an anime that was primarily episodic in format (ie things that happen one episode don’t have ramifications next episode), and yeah…it also often ended its one-shots at the most important moments for either LOL or impact, so maybe it’s a problem with the genre too. That said, Gintama had some emotionally poignant stories in 20 minutes, so it’s definitely doable.

I think What If is best enjoyed (like most of MCU these days) by casual fans. It sounds like most of the characterisation is fairly 2D, and the plot doesn’t intend to go into the depths of the characters. Fans of characters will see things that go against the grain of that person’s morality, while the creators are just like “most popular villain with post popular hero, who wouldn’t want to see this” 🤷‍♀️ But how did that work out though? How many casual fans bothered to watch What If?

[bedlamsbard]

Some Loki thoughts under the cut! Not explicitly spoilery for this week’s episode except for one comment, but some of what I’ve been dwelling on for the past few weeks, especially as I go through my MCU watch.  This is sort of negative, for those who are avoiding negative comments.

I think for me what I'm increasingly missing is context -- Marvel could have run most if not all of this story line with almost ANY character with very few changes; it doesn't feel deeply rooted in Loki himself.  At this point (next week’s finale could obviously prove otherwise) you could run this exact same story line with Natasha or Tony or Thor or Steve or Wanda or etc and end up with pretty similar results.

Obviously some of the decontextualization is deliberate depersonalization; what happens when you remove Loki from everything familiar and put him in this beige office monstrosity?  But even depending where you fall on the was-influenced-or-tortured-by-Thanos scale, that...already...happened to him...when he fell at the end of Thor, it just all happened offscreen, and then it happened again in the beginning of Thor: Ragnarok when he falls off the Bifrost and ends up on Sakaar -- it just all, again, happens offscreen, and both times results in Loki going “yeah, I could be anyone but I’m going to be Loki of Asgard, good or bad.”  Which isn’t to say that there’s not value in telling that story onscreen but I don’t love how they’ve been doing it.  And like, I love alternate universes and multiverses and alternate versions of the same character, I was absolutely onboard for episodes 1-3.

What’s key for me in that kind of thing is still keeping the character very firmly rooted in their own context even when everything else is stripped away from me, and that’s where the show started losing me after ep 1 and to a lesser extent ep 2 really dug into it.  Like, this guy is not human, he’s a thousand years old, he may or may not be a literal god (every Thor and Avengers movie has a different answer for the “are Asgardians gods or not?” question and Ragnarok commits to it; because I love the larger-than-life scale of divine storytelling that’s where I fall on that scale, but the show sort of elides it), and he just had the Battle of New York go pear-shaped on him.  And then there’s his family and...yeah, previously he’s only been presented in context of Thor (and to a lesser extent Odin and Frigga), but like, so has Thor himself -- Thor’s most stripped of context in Age of Ultron, tbh (which is a whole ‘nother issue because of like...the rest of AoU). But that’s a huge part of Loki and his identity issues and the fact that because, for whatever reason, the show can’t/won’t bring in movie characters rings hollow.  (The reasons are probably torn between a very practical “budget + pandemic made it impossible” and a thematic “who’s Loki without his family?”)  I like Loki a lot as a character, but for me a huge part of what makes him that character is his context and not having it is jarring.  (And I like his dynamic with Thor.)  Most of what I find really appealing about Loki has just not been there these past few eps and it’s not there even in its absence, which is the key part for me; with the family bit you can feel around the edges of it because it’s been highlighted a few times, but the “absolutely not human” part is just...lacking.  Like, you can have the magic and all the rest of it too, you know?

And for me the fact that this is supposed to be post-Avengers 2012 Loki -- which is a Loki who’s glaring in his brittleness -- is...lacking?  You can argue that one reason he’s so unsettled is because he’s smarting from what happened there, but I’m just not feeling it.  And yeah, he’s a chameleon who can blend into new contexts pretty easily, even coming immediately out of trauma (the Sakaar episode in Ragnarok shows that), but that’s such a specific context that we’re so familiar with that it feels off to me.  (And also, this is is a me issue, Tom Hiddleston, while very handsome, is very��clearly ten years older in the face than he was as 2012 Loki, so I don’t even have the visual cues to say “this is 2012 Loki.”  That is obviously a me issue, again, I want to reiterate that.)

and to switch gears off the decontextualization

I’m also feeling some resentment on behalf of Loki Prime back in the films because the whole argument that a Loki is only allowed to do bad things and won't be allowed to change falls apart in the face of TDW/Ragnarok/IW? and like, he was presumably a pretty decent dude the preceding millennium? there’s a reason his psychotic break in Thor was such a shock to everyone?  (I guess to get back to context, he’s a thousand years old and the fact that none of that history feels like it’s there.  Like, the DB Cooper thing is ultimately pretty harmless, and also like...only forty years prior.)  I've seen people talking about Show Loki having to speedrun Film Loki's character arc but by the whole argument of the show, if we're taking it at face value, that character arc NEVER SHOULD HAVE BEEN ALLOWED TO HAPPEN. So it sits weirdly with me.

Obviously there’s no reason to take “you were born to cause pain and suffering and death” at face value, except there’s also Kid Loki’s comment in the last ep about “whenever one of us dares try to fix themselves, they’re sent here to die.”  It’s been a while since I read the comics (I think I went through Journey into Mystery around when Thor or maybe Avengers came out, but that was the last time), but IIRC that feels like much more a comics thing than an MCU thing and because they’re so very, very different it’s jarring.  This felt like a lot of “we’re going to stuff comics stuff in here despite the fact that the MCU is only very loosely connected to the comics,” which on the one hand could be fun (and obviously a lot of people found it fun!) but on the other hand threw me very badly.  I love a multiverse but one reason I mentally can't cope with most comics is that I need the multiverse to be very, very logical about its divergence points and that went out the window here. This is 100% about how my brain works, not a quality issue; it’s an issue that’s shown up elsewhere and not specifically a Loki thing here.  (I can kind of look past it for Into the Spider-Verse but tbh I think a lot of the reason I can is because that film’s animated.  again, like, 100% about how my brain works.)

also the recurring “glorious purpose” line makes zero sense considering that Loki never utters it again after Avengers. :/  I know it was exciting back in 2012 but y’all.

okay I’m going back to dealing with all of these problems in fanfic again

[infinitegalahad]

WIFE

Summary: You and Dick, after years of indefinite separation and depression, have finally reunited. Dick can’t wait to start a family with you. You love Dick, but you soon realize that you cannot bear him a son, a daughter, or a child.

Word Count: 10.9k (i’m being generous)

Warnings: Infertility, period typical sexism, Loneliness, based off of a mitski song what did you expect, here comes the angst train *sad choo choo*

Notes: Female reader. and title (literally) taken from Wife By Mitski, which I rec listening too for the extra painful experience. So I’m back from the dead...ish. I wanna apologize for going AWOL for two-three months, guess Iw anted to focus on other works and I feel like x readers are not my strong suit. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna write them! I can’t promise anything, but I am planning some stories. Not as long or as painful as this is, of course!

I’m not gonna lie, I cried while writing this. Not only because it’s Mitski, but infertility is something that hit’s close to home for me and my family. Was this story just me projecting my generational trauma into this fic? Never! Anyways, hopefully I won’t go AWOL again, atleast not for that long. It’s really hard to find the motivation to write, but I’ll do it. For you guys ;)

Taglist: @easy-company-tradition​ 

When Dick Winters had left for the war five years ago, he had made a promise to you the night before he was drafted. You were nineteen and naive, planned for college and he was twenty-seven, a post-graduate and Business Major. Your father was his professor and one of his best students. You would see Dick every Friday Night. As you would pick at the leftover peas on your plate, he would turn to look at your father to talk about something business-related. His eyes, you could never tell if they were a light shade of blue or green, would meet yours. It would be for a brief second. Those brief seconds would make you drop your fork and your cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

You had a small crush on Dick Winter’s.

It took you a few weeks to catch onto his eye color. They were a beautiful mixture of blue and green, reflecting a mint color. The taper candles would always lighten his eyes up. The reason you finally found out this eye color was because each dinner, you’d catch Dick staring at you. You were naturally oblivious to it, keeping your head down as your father talked a business deal. But whenever he mentioned Dick’s name, you would look up, see Dick’s dilated mint pupils looking right into your eyes before he swiftly turned his head to your father, acting like he was listening to every little word he was saying.

Dick had become a family friend. Instead of dinners once a week, he would come by your house more frequently in the summer months. The summer you had met Dick, there was a three-month-long heatwave. From what you understood, Dick had been doing an internship with your father along with extra studies, extracurriculars, and even more. It sounded like a lot for a young man. He was over three times a week, always in your father’s studies or the porch, drinking lemonade as he and your father discussed business. You’d sit on top of the porch, lazily slumped in a chair in your floral dirndl, reading And Both Were Young as you watched Dick Winters, in shorts and a tight white shirt with his strawberry blonde hair a little messy. Every time he spoke, your heart would skip a beat.

“Two jobs?” You cried, skipping ahead of him in your flats that you had slipped on in a rush, the heels hanging out of the back. “And an internship? How do you do it all?”

Dick looked down at your tiner figure, his lips curving into a subtle smile at your question. Whenever he smiled, his cheeks would wrinkle. It was a small detail you caught into about Dick that you adored. “I don’t go to parties a lot. Not worth the time that I’ve got. I work these jobs so I can get through school and support my family.”  

“That’s very admirable, Dick. Not a lot of guys my age would even consider that.” You remarked with a compliment. Dick walked beside you, hands behind your back with a straight back. His gaze lingered in you as he scanned your figure. Now that Dick was around more often, you always made sure to wear your best outfits. You wouldn’t have considered yourself very vain, but with Dick, something had changed. You started wearing the pretty pastel dresses your mother approved off, fine pearls, expensive cologne, and even the short rompers that your mother didn’t approve of. When wearing makeup, you felt like a woman more than a girl, which is what you wanted Dick to see you as.

“Thank you, y/n.” The strawberry blonde politely thanked with a curt nod. The two of you had a little routine now. While your mother would make dinner and your father would smoke a cigar in the back with the dogs, you’d take Dick into your backyard and down a little cobblestone trail to a hidden lake. You liked to go there to read to escape, and Dick needed a small break from working in the burning heat. So it was idle. “Do you have plans now that you’ve graduated?”

“Yes. I’m starting classes at Franklin and Marshall since they’ve allowed women. My mother prefers I stay home and learn how to be a lady instead of reading,” You explained with a sigh. The only woman in a class full for men. Times were changing, and nothing was going to stop you from working. “She cares more about her grandchildren then her daughter’s desires.”

“Well, it is your choice? Not your mother or father’s. As long as you were happy, then they should be happy for you. I think you’ll like it,” Dick kindly reassured, “You’re a very nice young lady, y/n. I’m sure you’ll do great things.”

The two of you arrived at the lake. The sun was setting over the sky as it shined on the lake. There was an orange and pink hue in the sky. Dick and you stood besides each other. The strawberry blonde shut his eyes and let out a long sigh, feeling a small breeze in the night. The air got colder in the nights, which felt like a refreshing treat after a long day of work and unbearable heat. The sun made his strawberry blonde hair and skin glow like he was some kind of god.

You admired Dick as he stood there, biting your lip and hands playing with the belt fabric on your skirt.

“Dick?” You managed to choke, your voice cracking.

He opened one eye and looked at you, worried. “Is everything okay, y/n?”

“Can you please kiss me?”

Dick looked bewildered. It took him a second to process the question. His expression was that of a high school student stumped on an equation in math class. He hadn’t been outside much, maybe the heat was getting to him. “I don’t think I heard that correctly.”

“Can you please kiss me?” You reiterated, biting your lip in vexation. “I haven’t met a man like you, Dick. None of the boys my mother is setting me up with are like. They aren’t as intelligent, hardworking, cordial. When I tell these boys I want to read and live my life, they put me down-call me insane and ill. But you don’t do those things. You just stand there and listen to me. I may not make sense since I am probably just some young immature girl who knows nothing about being a proper lady. You even give me kind words of advice. No other boy would do that. Only a man would do such a thing.” You vented, letting your words spill out like vomit.

Dick wasn’t reacting at all. At Least it wasn’t obvious. He turned his figure towards you, eyes glued as his lips puckered against each other’s. He seemed taken aback by your honesty since you were someone who was reserved, only speaking when necessary. That didn’t mean adding your opinion to one of your father’s at dinner. Dick wasn’t obvious to your “rebellious” nature. Your mother would always scold you for interrupting the men. Your father didn’t mind your info if, and so didn’t Dick. He was interested in your perspective, and would always ask for further intake since it was the gentlemen thing to do.

You looked at him and shook your head, turning to walk back. “Forget it,” You sighed as you walked past him, your shoulder brushing against his. Dick got a smell of your perfume, a lavender and vanilla, it was definitely expensive. He liked y/n’s armora, especially after a long day of being in a stuffy room full of whiskey and burning cigars. “You probably think I’m just a mad woman-“

Dick thought about his decision for a second. He had to think thinkly. When he made up his mind, he sped walk towards you. “Wait,” He called. He saw you turn around with your silky (y/h/c) (y/h/t) spring right behind you. He scrunched up a fist feeling a lump grow in his throat as he looked a few slow steps towards you.

“You’re not a mad woman. I think you’re wonderful to be around. I always enjoy our conversations and our midnight walks,” Dick commented. He was at a loss of words for the kiss. When you had asked, you sounded like you were begging, but hid it.

It took him a while to realize that the two’s of you had a fair amount in common. You both were soft spoken souls, friendly but quiet. You distanced yourself from large crowds and were usually confident in each other since you both had a trust. You know how eachother worked like nobody else did-a small, intimate detail that only the two of you would watch into.

“You’re also growing into a beautiful young woman each day. Being a lady doesn’t mean being all prim and proper, it means being mature, kind, and respectful to others. That’s what you are.” Dick was only a few steps away. You listened to every word he said, your hands restraining themselves from touching his chest. He could once again smell the cologne and see the moonlight shine on your eyes and hair-the gloss you wore sparkled as well.

“But I couldn’t kiss you. You’re father wouldn’t approve of it.”

You couldn’t hold yourself back. Your hands met his chest. You were so caught up in the heat of it that you didn’t realize that your hands rested on Dick’s Ivory collared shirt. Dick, however, didn’t protest at all.

You gently scrunched the fabric, “He’s not here. Just one. Before my mom tries to marry me off. Just one kiss and I won’t ask for anything else of you, Dick.”

Dick put his bigger hands onto yours as his thumb finessed the small part of your soft, [y/s/c] skin in between your index and thumb. “I…”

You gave him those eyes. They were begging. One kiss from a real man and you would be content.

Dick let out a defeated sigh, “...will. Just one. For you.”

So he did. In the moonlight, Dick Winters held you close and became your first kiss. Your lips were like a sweet treat. It felt miraculous after a long day of work. It was meant to be quick, but he was obsessed with your cushion lips and sweet lip gloss. His hands firmly rested on your lower back as his fingers scrunched with the material. It wasn’t his first kiss, but it was yours, so he made sure to be gentle with you, even though he struggled. The whiff of your perfume, your shirt showing off your abdomen, the silliness of your hair. It was hard just for it to be one kiss.

Dick walked to you, your arm slung in the hole of his elbow. The two of you didn’t speak any words once you arrived back for dinner. It was a typical dinner. Your mother always made Salmon, rice, and peas on Saturdays, which occurred to be Dick’s favourite meal. Your mother raved about boys who could “tame” you, your father spoke of a new business deal in the news, you picked at the leftover peas, and Dick looked at your father with his weary king eyes, attempting to look interested in the conversation.

What kept him away in the dinner as your bare ankle, brushing against his trousers. It was a little bit distracting. Thank god he was a good pretender. It felt so wrong to be doing this, yet so right. You were unlike a lot of women Dick had met. You always caught his attention, watching you each day as you grow into a young, educated woman.

To tame your foot, Dick wrapped his ankle around yours, tenderly holding it down until the meal was over. After dinner was over, Dick wished your family a goodnight.. He gave your mother who adored him a kiss on the cheek, your father a firm handshake,  and you apart on the shoulder. His fingers struggled on your bare shoulder for what seemed like forever, brushing against the edge of your neck.

And with that, Dick was gone into the night. You headed to bed and changed, not washing your lips. You had a smile on your face as you twisted and turned. It was a one time occurance, but it felt like your fantasy had come to life.

But before you knew it, it would all be over. Dick would be back on Tuesday, and the two of you would act like nothing had ever happened.

But what Dick and you didn’t know is that it wouldn't be the first time of hushed kisses, lingering fingers, and limbs grazing passionately against each other.

————

The US had entered the war overseas. Most of the boys in your class were putting a pause on their lives to go fight in Africa, The Pacific, or Europe. Anybody who was over the age of eighteen was required to draft, so town was a shit show of crying mothers, lanky boys who could possibly never come home, and military trucks. You wanted to apply to be a combat nurse, but you weren’t of the age requirement.

Dick was going to war.

Ever since the night at the lake, you and Dick kept a closted relationship. He still came over in the Summers. Some days you wouldn’t even see him. But the small moments you had together, whether that be watching the twinkling stars on your walk on the lake hand in hand or cuddled reading books on a rainy day in your isolated greenhouse porch, mattered so much. If you had a bad day, he'd sit there and listen. He wouldn’t judge or give any advice. You didn’t know if he understood your struggles, but it made you happy to know that someone would sit there and listen. For comfort, he would take the book out of your hands and bookmark it, slide off your dangling flats, and pull you into his chest.

Dick’s language of romance wasn’t grand or romantic. Although reticent, his tranquil actions were nothing but idyllic. It was the little things that counted, whether it was fresh perennial’s picked from the field or even a hug. Your relationship didn’t have to be based on gifts and what others thought of you. It was the little things that counted.

The night before he was drafted, Dick invited your family over to his farm. It was at the edge of town and down a long dirt road, leading to a little white house and large red barn. It was picturesque, a cornfield and trees for miles on end. There was no constant chatter, horns blaring, or pressure-it was just quiet.

When your parents and Dick’s parents were distracted in conversation, Dick requested to take a walk with you. As much as you enjoyed talking to the bubbly Anne, you needed a small escape. You followed Dick to the back of his tiny kitchen. Being the gentleman he was, he held the door open and let you walk ahead of him. The only noise that could be heard were the chirps of crickets and the wind gently blowing. You held a hand down on a dress your mother forced you to wear. It was a Jade summer frock, but Dick had complimented you. So it made the frock somewhat bearable.

The two of you walked in his backyard. You had no clue where he was leading you. You turned to Dick to ask. He didn’t respond with words. His fingers edged on your as you unruled your fingers, letting his hand sink into yours. His hands were worked, and you felt awful so you gently caressed the upper skin with your thumb.

“Where are we going?” You questioned as you looked left and right, clinging onto the shawl that hung from your shoulders.

Dick looked down at you. He had a subtle smile on his lips as he looked down at you. All of the anxiety he had felt about being drafted, work, and the war faded away when he looked at you. Dick didn’t need to kiss you to know that you loved him; he could tell from the gentle look of your stunning (y/e/c) eyes. He watched you look into the never ending field ahead of you, the wind blowing loose strands of your updo. You wore a little bit of makeup. It was always subtle. He knew you hated wearing makeup and did you want to do it to look “presentable”. Dick didn’t care what you looked like, whether it be in overalls or a dress, he was infatuated with you.

He should have known from day one that y/n, the mischievous daughter of his Economics professor, had been yearning for him. He attempted to get lost in the papers and speeches of your father in his regal office with the shades closed and the whiff of smoke, earth paper, and Whiskey. Even when he was trapped in the office, you were still on his mind with your elegant perfume and book in hand.

“Here.” He announced, overlooking the cornfield. The colossal, green plants waved in the wind, in front of a hazy smoky dull sunset. You didn’t respond and simply looked into the sunset, slowly watching the shining sun set into the ground. “The cornfields, they remind me of you.”

A smirk curved on your gloss lips as you squeezed his bigger, worked hand with your tinier one. “Is that so?”

“They're wild. No matter the season, they are always growing. They're not the easiest plant to manage, there...unruly.” Dick explained, still a gentle smile on his tringale face.

“Are you comparing me to a bunch of crops?” You teased as your head landed on his shoulder. “Not a lot of women find that very romantic.”

Dick leaned his head on top of yours as he, your thighs brushing against each other.

“I’m going to miss you a lot,” You broke the silence.

Dick didn’t move and had an eerie stoic expression. He tightened his grip on your hand before looking down to let out a soft sigh.

The sun didn’t shine anymore, the corn had stopped moving in the wind, and the stars didn’t sprinkle. You felt your stomach drop as goose bumps appeared on your exposed arms and legs. You froze and looked down at the grass, seeing your feet nestled right next to Dick’s.

The possibility that this could be the last time you saw Dick, held him, read with him, and kissed him haunted you. As a child, you had made it official that love was off the table. But when the giant gentle with red hair and mint eyes waltzed into your kitchen on that fateful night, your world had been turned upside down. Trying to be logical, you could live if Dick died. He was far too old to marry you, and most likely showed no interest. You could've been just a pretty face for him to silently hold before acting like you never shared tender moments in the moonlight. If he died, you would move on, marry someone your mother chose out for you, and start a mundane life of cooking, folding laundry, and having children.

But emotionally, if Dick didn’t come back to Lancaster, something would be missing from your life. Something important.

“I can’t promise anything. You know that, sweetheart.” Dick cautioned you, whispering into your hair. At Least he was being honest-better than sugar coating a sensitive subject. He tried to make you look at him, but you refused. You were being stubborn, pushing away the emotions and trying to think logically. But in all honesty, it was catching up to you know. Tears stung at your eyes as your mouth quivered.

“I know, you don’t have to tell me, ” You sniffled, “I’m not an idiot. I prefer it if you be straightforward with me.” Dick looked at you with his thin eyebrows knit together and narrowed eyes. After sharing such a kind moment, he most likely wouldn't wanna break news that would tear your heart to pieces.

You preferred if he’d just spit out the words and get it over with. Make it easier for both of you to handle.

He moved on his hands to your cheek to wipe the incoming tears, but you refused. You turned your head and swiped the tears with your shaky palm, red lipstick and mascara staining your skin.

You scoffed in frustration, “Just say you want me to break up with me. It’s for the better. I’ll go to school, you go to war. We act like nothing ever happened. For the greater good. It was fun while it lasted..But I...nevermind.” You looked down at the ground, refusing to look at Dick. One glance and the next thing you would know, tears would be streaming down your face as you ran into the night.

Dick turned and followed after you as your footsteps increased with a few mumbled sniffles. “That’s not what I wanted to say-”

A pained sob escaped your mouth as you walked forward, a red face with tears streaming down your cheek. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Please, for the better of us. It’s better to use your mind over your heart and not worry about some young, naive girl who had a crush on her father’s best student!”

“Y/n...”

You continued to walk forward and ignore Dick’s pleas, but your stomping slowed down.

“Y/n...”

Dick was creeping up behind your. Your speed walking slowly turned into slow, sluggish steps. Tears streamed down your face as your hands slung at your sides. Dick was now right behind you, watching you as you sniffled. You slowly turned your head to look at him with mascara running down your face.

“Oh, Sweetheart..” Dick softly sighed. Your whole body turned around as you fell into his arms, letting out a loud sob. Small sniffles turned into wails as you cried into his chest, staining the ivory collared shirt. He stroked your hair as he ran reassuring circles on your back. He wanted you to get all of those pestering emotions out. After a few minutes of sobbing and Dick comfortingly holding you close, he broke the silence.

“That’s not why I brought you here,” Dick cooed into your hair as he traced mindless figures into your lower back.

You looked up with your big (e/y/c) orbs, letting out a little sniffle. He had a soft smile on his face as he wiped a stray hair from your face, slowly tucking it behind your hair. “Then...why did you bring me here..?”

“This cornfield holds a special place in my heart. I come here a lot. It’s peaceful, but lonely.” Dick explained as he grabbed your hand, holding your tiny one in his own. He looked down at you, “After working with your father, I’d come home and run here. I’d stop midway to look at the wind and the way it moved the corn. It was so relaxing, so that’s why I brought you here.”

“To not feel lonely?”

“Yes. I felt alone, until I met you.” He admired, “I was surrounded by people, but I still felt alone. But when I spent time with you, I didn’t feel alone at all. It was a highlight to see you, even if it was sitting across from each other at a table or seeing you, laying on the porch. I looked at you and I got happy.”

“Dick, I…” You were speechless. His words wanted your heart, but his message baffled you. “Appreciate your kindness, but what do you mean?”

The gentle strawberry blonde held your hand. He didn’t hold it tight, but used both his hands to hold them up. He slowly backed up and lowered himself on one knee. From the books you had read, you knew what this way. Initiatively, you would’ve said no and ran away. But Dick had courted you with his gentle hold, reassuring words, and sheer presence.

“I couldn’t keep it any longer. I know there’s a chance that this will be the last time you see me for a while or at all. I said I couldn’t promise anything, but I..can’t hide it. I love you, y/n. I don’t care if you want to start school and make your own money, I don’t care if you wear pants, I don’t care what you do. I care about your happiness. I want you to live a long and happy life. You’re the most beautiful and intelligent woman I have ever met. I understand you’re young, and you can turn this down if it’s too much. Dick announced as he pulled a velvet box from the back of his pants, he opened the box to reveal a golden Celtic band. You put a hand on your mouth in joyous disabelif. “I want to be with you, but only if you want to be with me. You’d never be alone...Will you marry me, y/n?”

“Dick, this is…” You chuckled in disbelief. One minute you were crying, now you were laughing. Dick in one hand held a beautiful ring, and the other hand your delicate hand. “Wonderful. But my parents...they…”

“I talked to your father. He said pick out a white dress you want.” Dick replied. “You’re mother cried. I thought she was upset, but she was beyond happy. She told me she knew you had an eye on me since I started coming over for dinner. They approved...but if you don’t want this, I understand. I just couldn’t hold it in, even if I don’t come ba-“

“Yes, Yes, yes, yes, yes…” Your words started low, but then turned to loud cheers. You squealed, nodding enthusiastically. “I will, Dick. I’ll marry you. I don’t care. If something does happen, I'll be happy knowing that I’m yours. Even if you don’t…” the three lettered words struggled to come out your mouth. It was such a rough word. Unable to bring yourself to say it, you chose to leave your pessimistic side for something more optimistic. “I won’t be alone, even if you’re in Europe, The Pacific, wherever. I’ll just know you’re here, in my heart and dreams.”

It turned out that this whole dinner was a setup by your family and the Winters. It just had to be Anne Winters that she found about your relationship with Winters. Being sixteen and sassy, she casually shrugged it off and stated that “Dick was a horrible liar”. It should have been obvious with Dick’s favourite meal, the fact that you were placed right next to time, Anne’s teasing, and your mother pestering for you to look presentable. It all made sense now.

But there was one ball in the air-the ceremony. Dick would be leaving for Toccoa the next day, the afternoon. Your parents wanted a big ceremony for the morning. The Winters didn’t care-they just wanted the two of you to be happy considering that Dick was going to be away for a long time or forever.

You and Dick had to come to an agreement. You announced at the end of dessert that you would wait to be married until Dick came back from the war.

Obviously, this caused a bit of uproar. But with Dick leaving tomorrow, they chose not to make a big deal of it. As long as you and Dick were happy, your families could be nothing but be happy for you. Even if it was a short amount of time.

After the storm that settled, you and Dick had left his house. You hopped in his truck and drove to the local chapel Dick had attended with his family every Sunday. In the middle of the night, the two of you eloped. He made sure to pull over and pick out a group of Perennials, all kinds of your favorites. You even stuffed some into your messy updo which had turned into a half updo.

After your quiet ceremony, the two of you drove back to your estate. There, the two of you spent your first, and poetically final, night together in your childhood bedroom; making love, cuddling, and cherishing every moment you shared with each other.

The variety of perennials’s Dick had picked out were placed into a blue and white ginger jar. It was meant to be a memory of Dick. He wouldn’t be there psychically, but spiritually, he would be right there.

Dick was surprised to learn that you weren’t a virgin. He was raised a Mennonite, waiting for marriage. You, being a curious young woman, had experimented. It was once, and an unpleasant experience. Before, you had felt indifferent about sex. It was something that women were meant to desire. You were told to be a virgin and wait for a man to take control of you. Hating those words, you chose to do the opposite. Nobody knew of your little secret, besides Dick-your husband.

Dick was nothing like the boy you had lost your virginity to. Unlike that boy, he was a man. Not because he was masculine and tough, but because he treated you like his equal. He never treated you any differently from your father. Dick had morals and integrity, he was compassionate, quiet but polite, open-minded, and used his brain and heart. That was what you defined a real man as.

Dick treated you like you were made of glass. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect for you. He didn’t care about his feelings, he only cared about yours. He wanted to make sure that you were enjoying yourself. You aided him in some areas, but the two of you were on a ride after a rocky start. Dick always asked how you were doing, if you wanted him to stop, go slower, or if you needed to break. He left sloppy kisses all over your body and had his hands wrapped around you like a young child with a bear. Dick didn’t let go of you once.

That night, the two of you held each other close as you chatted for hours on end. That was what you had looked forward to, not the sex. Sex was still a big piece in your marriage, but it wasn’t the most important. You looked forward to the long and mindless conversations the two of you had. Dick held you in his warm arms, toned and muscles from the workout’s he did year round. He would hold you close to his body as the two of you discussed life after the war.

It didn’t matter what the future held. If Dick was gone for one year, ten years, or forever. What mattered was the two of you had each other in your little moment of peace before all hell would break loose.

You and Dick had chatted the whole night away. The next thing you knew, you would go from the bedroom to the train station. It was a moment you dreaded, but it had to be done. Dick once again had a stoic expression. He kissed his mother, your mother, and sister, shook his father's and your father’s hand, and gave you a long sweet kiss on the lips. Dick struggled to pull away, but he knew it was for the best. Before climbing onto the train, he promised to write to you at every opportunity he got and tell you about Europe, the war, and anything he desired to tell you.

The next thing you knew, you were alone again.

When you arrived home, you kicked off your shoes and walked up the stairs. Your mother asked if you were okay, to which you silently nodded your head. Your father had noticed your unusual silence. He had offered to take you shopping, thinking that money would make you happy. All you did was politely decline and retreat to your bedroom.

Your room was stuck in time. The sheets were all over the floor and Dick’s tall figure that had been imprinted on the left side of your bed. The dress your mother forced you to wear laid on the floor, along with your flats and pearls.

The sun shined through the curtains as you crawled onto the side where Dick had laid. You closed your eyes and sunk into his pillow, holding onto the disappearing scent of your husband.

On Top of the books, you had been reading were the perennials; lavender, daylilies, and stonecrops. You looked up from the pillow, your nose buried into the pillow and a blanket loosely covering your legs.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel that so alone anymore.

———

One year turned into two, two turned into three, and three turned into four. You kept the calendar’s from over the years in your room, neatly stored under your bed. You found it funny how time flew by. You could remember the first day of walking in your classroom and the day you walked off the podium with your diploma. The pretty perennials that Dick had given you from what seemed like a decade ago had died. They were withered and derived of the bright colors they once had, hanging on the side of the blue and white ginger jar. The perennials reminded you of yourself. Once you had been a fiery young girl, and now you were an exhausted graduate student who was bound to become a widow.

Around the time you had found work at Lancaster, BBC announced that the war was over in Europe. That should have phased you and made you jump up with glee, but in all reality, it didn’t. The optimistic side you once had was long gone, turning into a pessimistic bitterness. The war was over in Europe, but not in The Pacific. Dick still wouldn’t be coming home, and you learned to accept that.

Sure, he had sent you letters in the beginning. Lots of them. He would talk about his adventures in training, his dreadful drill sergeant, his friend who was a “one of those city folk”, and so many more things. He expressed his boyish pride in being a patriot for his country. His little letters used to make your day. But as the leaves fell from the trees and the years passed, his letters would slow down. The last one you had received in January, written in December. It was short and sweet. The letter rested  in your drawer. As the days passed on, a small part of you broke. You had been married for five years, yet you felt like you weren’t even married. No Dick kissing you, holding you in your arms, or comforting you in your darkest moments.

When the flowers had slowly withered, so did your hope.

But that all changed on a warm September day. Your mother had called you from your room, not specifying what was awaiting for you at the door. You grumbled and got up, taking off your glasses as you walked down the stairs, expecting to see another colleague trying to woo you.

You didn’t expect to see a tall man with a soft smile, strawberry hair, and a neat military uniform. Your husband-Dick Winters.

It was like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. You dropped everything, running right into his arms. You buried your face in his chest as he pulled you in close, his worked hands resting on your lower back and hair. He smelt amazing, and his uniform was soft. You missed his tender touch and soft words. It had been forever since you had seen him. In that moment, nothing mattered. No words needed to be spoken. In all honesty, you never wanted or needed pity from others. You just wanted someone-Dick-to be close. You thought of yourself as a coward, but all you wanted to feel was alright.

“Sweetheart, I missed you. I’m so sorry,” He apologized, stroking your embrace. His voice was stoic, as usual. It really was Dick. He was home and in your arms, at last.

“Don’t. Just stay. Please.” You softly cooed into his chest. No, you couldn’t let go now.

Dick let out a soft chuckle and stayed in the embrace. War was a strange beast. It stripped families of their children and caused mass discussion. Dick thought he wouldn’t come home and see his wife who had married the night before he was drafted. As the years had gone by, Dick began to regret his choice. What if he had left you a widow?

But that was the past. It was gone-nothing to waste tears on. In your extended embrace, the future didn’t matter, it wasn’t worth stressing. Dick and you lived in the present moment and made it beautiful.

-----------

Nothing had changed after Dick had come home. Life was still the same, except you weren’t as alone. Dick was still his stoic self. He was a doting husband. You expected him to struggle when he returned to civilian life. He wasn't used to homemade dinners and a bed much-the flashes of exploding limbs and artillery flashing through his eyes. Both you and Dick were independent. It wasn’t a bad thing. You could spend hours reading as he did a puzzle in another. On some days, the two of you would do activities together. You’d lay your head in his lap as he’d did his puzzle. On other days, Dick would be needier. Originally, he wasn’t vocal about it. It took you a while to catch onto it. He held your hand more in public, pulled you closer as you slept, and whenever he was in a mood-he’d come right to you and just give you a look. You knew the look all too well-and knew how to cure it. Dick would wrap his arms as you snuggled into his chest and talk about anything your minds came to. Sometimes you’d talk, but other times the two of you would close yours and fall asleep. Dick wouldn’t have any nightmares if held you close for comfort.

Without you, Dick didn’t know what he would do. How he could return to the simplicity of life.

Somehow, he returned. And every day he made sure to thank you for making him feel like a human and not a machine-whether that be through a gentle peck, a cuddle, or even a literal “thank you”. He loved you more than anything in the world.

----------

Shortly after Dick returned, the two of you moved out to New Jersey. His “city-boy” friend (his name was Lewis Nixon, but Dick called him Lew) had offered him a job at his parent’s nutrition company. So off the two of you drove from Lancaster to the suburbs of Haddonfield. Haddonfield and Lancester were virtually the same; small country bumpkin towns isolated from the big cities.

You and Dick had bought your first house (which was given by Nixon was a “late honeymoon gift). It was a small colonial house in a tiny suburb, pristine white with red doors. The decorations in the house were limited, a few photos of your and his family with elegant furniture gifted from your parents. It was a little big for your liking. It was a nice gift, but in Nixon’s words, it was for the “incoming armada of redheads”.

Babies. Children. Of your kin.

Dick had mentioned having children. When he was still adjusting, he’d hold you close as he talked about his plans for the future. Buy a farm in Pennsylvania, build his own business, and start a family of his own. He had told you that anywhere you would go, he would go. Anything you wanted, he wanted. He was about thirty two and you were close to turning twenty-five. It was expected at your age to have young children, but with no husband around and a job, it was difficult to settle down. You would gulp and smile, looking down as you held his hand.

Dick didn’t want to pressure you. He knew that were siginactiatly younger. Times were changing, you had a job and life of your own. He never wanted to interfere with it. When you would get insecure about not being the “ideal wife”, he’d reassure you that you were his wife and didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want. Dick wasn’t a man who put fear into others to get what he wanted. He was a patient and gentle soul.

You had tried a few times here and there. As much as you tried to enjoy something that was pleasurable, it was painful. You hid it from Dick, but Dick wasn’t an idiot. Dick wanted you to enjoy it. You could his mint eyes, hungry yet soft, as he laid on top of you, both of your hands restricted as you did the deed.

You weren’t making any noises, looking to the side. Something was wrong, you knew it. But you couldn’t break it to Dick. How would he react?

Dick catched onto his. He pulled himself together and pulled out. You looked at him and gave him a stubble style as he scooted closer to you, his breath heavy and gelled hair a mess.

“Hey,” You smiled awkwardly, clenching at the sheets.

Dick looked at you, a smile curving as his lips as his hand caressed your cheek. “How is my wife doing?”

It was a private nickname. He called you it after the war, especially when he was feeling vulnerable. Sometimes it was “my little wife”, which could be sweet or driven by lust. The little nickname made your heart skip a beat. You were proud to be his.

“Good. I’m tired,” You yawned as you held his hand close, playing with his big fingers.

Dick looked at your face as he admired your natural beauty, a pearly smile, your hair loose on the pillow, and your figure covered by a thin sheet. His hand moved from your cheek, your nape, and eventually your stomach. He drew slow, soft circles around your tummy.

“My little wife with our baby,” Dick remarked, his fingers dancing across your bare skin. Any girl would’ve fallen head over heels if a man had said that. You should have been happy, you wanted a family.

But how could you tell him?

There was a long silence between the two of you. All you did was look into his mint orbs, stroking his hair out of his face.

“I hope he, or she, looks like you. So they get their mother’s beauty.” Dick looked down at your stomach and planted a kiss.

You gulped, thinking of a response. A pretty white lie. “And there’s dad’s redhead and kindness. If you’re a little guy, I’ll tell you that it’s hard to find a man like your day.”

“And it’s hard to find a woman like your mother. She’s a firecracker,” Dick jabbed as he playfully ruffled his hair.

“Dick…” Your words were low as you held back a sob. You plastered a smile, it hurt to lie. “We don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl. I don’t even know if I have a baby there…”

“Well…” Dick laid his head on your stomach, gently finessing the skin under your breast. “If It was a girl, what would her name be?”

You hated the feeling-naming a baby that wasn’t in your stomach. Dick believed that you were pregnant, or at least he believed you were. In response, you bit your lips-looking like you were deep in thought.

“Margaret,” You announced, “Molly for short. After my grandmother, in her memory.”

Dick tilted his head up and nodded, “For your grandma,” He planted another kiss and rested his head once again, “A boy?”

“Lewis? You like that fellow a lot.”

Dick shook his head, “No. I can’t look at him and our child the same way.”

You let out a chuckle before shaking your head. An image of a little baby flashed between your eyes. Mint eyes, dimples, and soft red hair. You wished it would occur.

“I can’t think of a name. You?”

Dick was silent for a minute as he laid on your stomach, your fingers entangled in his locks.

“Thomas. His name could be Thomas,” Dick proposed.

“Why is that?” You questioned.

Dick let out a sigh before crawling up to you, pulling you into his arms,“He was a C.O, to replace Sobel. I didn’t know him for long since his plane was hit. He’s listed as missing in action...but,” He froze on the words, unable to say it. You looked up at him Dick, who looked to the side with guilt tugging at his heart. You planted a kiss on his chin.

“He was twenty-two years old, just married. He sent a letter out to his wife to tell her that he was coming home. She still believes he’s out there, lost in some forest, finding his way home..” Dick looked down at you. Just like Meehan, he had been freshly married, sending out a letter. While Dick had kept his short and sweet (he didn’t want to promise anything), Meehan was too big for his britches. He didn’t show his fear, confidence in the face of adversity.

“Okay, Thomas it is. I like that name” You expressed.

Dick saw your face glow up, and so did his. He smiled, nodding along. “Thomas and Margaret,” He looked at your stomach once more, running his hand across your flat stomach. “I like that too.”

You nuzzled into his chest as he planted little kisses on the nape of your neck, holding you close for warmth. The two of you remained there, the only noise being your breathing.

Pulling your head back, Dick moved his hands down to your lower back to pull you up, closer to his face. “Y/n?”

“Yes, Dick?” You looked into his mint eyes, the candle in the room glittering in his orbs.

Dick held your cheek as he admired your face, “I love you, my little wife.”

You looked down before looking at your husband, moving slowly up to his face.

“And I love you two, my big husband.”

Maybe time stopped when Dick’s lips had met yours, but the flutter only intensified. Your heart pounded in your chest as your knees went numb. You could only focus on how soft Dick felt against your mouth, how addictively he invaded all of your senses.

It wasn’t clear if you had dreamed this all, but the raw emotion in the way Dick’s fingers curled against yours. Dick kept his eyes open, sneaking a guilt peak every time you took a breath for air, just to make sure you weren’t a product of his imagination.

You weren’t sure if nature rooted for this moment, but it distracted you from everything. You just laid there with Dick, draped each other's arms as you sloppily kissed. Dick pulled you in once again, gently placing his lips onto yours until your knees had once again gone numb, overpowered by his. His other hand rested on your stomach as he murmured Margaret and Thomas, talking about how excellent of a mother you would be to your babies.

By the time you became aware of this, you froze, letting Dick kiss your body. You looked at the ceiling, hands in his hair as he decorated your skin.

It was like a car had run into you, throwing you down to the side-a rude awakening. As much as you denied it, it was creeping up on you.

There was no Thomas. There was no Magaret. There was never going to be a Thomas or Margaret.

Your stomach was flat, nothing moved. There was no life in your stomach ever. No matter how many times you tried, wished, prayed, there was only one conclusion.

There would never be a son or a daughter in your stomach-ever.

From that point on, life was slow. You woke up, gave Dick a kiss goodbye, worked from home, cooked dinner, read with Dick, fell asleep at an ungodly hour, and repeated the mundae routine everyday. With Dick being a general manager, he would work late hours. At some points, the only time you would see him is late at night when he’d crawl into bed giving you a kiss or early in the morning. Still, in his weary and stressed state, he’d always kiss your stomach every night and morning.

With your irregular cycles, constant negative tests, and pelvic pain becoming more evident in your marriage, you decided it was best to see your Doctor. As much as you didn’t want to know the possibility of what could be wrong, at least you would have an idea of what it was and how to make it better.

It turned out you couldn’t make your problem better. The doctor had a sympathetic look in your eyes as he listed off possibilities. You just sat there and looked at your stomach; your cold hands pressing against your stomach.

You were infertile.

There was never a Margaret growing in your stomach, nor was there a Thomas. There was nothing in your stomach.

How the hell were you going to tell your doting husband this?

---------

It was another Friday night in September. The leaves fell from the trees, the radio softly played in the back, it was peaceful in your little white house. Dick still hadn’t come home yet. You attempted to act like everything was normal as you put on a nice dress, pearls, and a fake pearly smile. It was all fine.

Nothing was fine.

You stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down into the haunting abyss. This feeling of dread and tightness became background noise as if it were traffic on an unseen road. There were times where you could handle it, and times where you could not. This was a day where you couldn’t handle it. Each day passed, and the more you repressed it-it hurt. It hurt even more than it was supposed to.

You were faced with a dead-end, a terrifying one, with thoughts of temptation and contemplation. You felt even lost in your own home and marriage, feeling helpless and scared. This wasn’t supposed to happen. In the partial society you lived in, a woman’s identity revolved around the ability to convenience. As a girl, you laughed it off, saying you’d do what you’d please. But you were no longer a fiery girl, but a broken and bitter woman. Bitter at the world for forcing the idea that women were baby machines. You, as you typically did, pushed it away.

Stuffed it into a closet, but it was now pouring out. All the baggage that you had repressed was right in front of you. You never felt like you belonged in the parthricaral society you lived in with their white picket fences and predictable lifestyles. That didn’t mean you didn’t want a family of your own. You had a husband, a job, a house, everything seemed perfect. But one thing was missing-a baby.

The older you had gotten, the more it affected you. Going to those parties for Dick’s job and seeing all the wives with their babies and fumbling toddlers. You didn’t feel anything towards them at first, but they eventually grew on you. Dick’s first few days home contained long conversations about what your lives would be after the way. You would chat with him for hours about it to distract from the nightmares that flooded his mind, holding his hand.

“A nice little farm near Lancaster, one or two kids, my own business, and the most important thing...you ” Dick would say, his words full of love. “My wonderful little wife, Margaret, Thomas, and me, on our farm. We’ll have each other.”

The kettle boiled in the water, the loud noise screeching in the kitchen. You dropped the knife and heard it clack onto the ground. All you did was stand there with wide eyes and shaky legs, looking down at the ground as your nails dug into the counter.

You couldn’t bear him children-you tried and tried and tried but to no avail. If you were not Dick’s, then what were you?

---------

Dick had taken off his trench coat, sliding his shoes off as he neatly put them right next to yours. He let out a sigh as he loosened his tie. Work had been stressful once again. All he could think about was seeing you and his growing little babies. Of course, he never told anybody. But knowing the thought was between you and him made it special-something so personal and beautiful. He couldn’t wait to see your face and hold you close, talking for hours on end. Anything you said or did made him head over heels, just like it had done to you five years ago. You had been distant and not your usual self, and Dick was worried. He knew of the insecurities you had, feeling like you never had fit into a certain mold.  

He had walked into the kitchen and instead of finding you, he found a dropped knife and kettle that was overflowing with boiling water. It looked like you had left in a hurry. He made sure to check all of the doors to see if you had left, in which you had no. In a calm manner, Dick cleaned up the kettle and put the knife back where it was. He wanted to help so you wouldn’t stress.

The pitter-patter of the shower coming from upstairs alerted Dick. He walked up the stairs and down the dark hallway, seeing the bathroom light creak from the bathroom. Creaking the door open, the all to familiar noise hit his ears. The bathroom was foggy as the shower ran. Looking down, Dick saw the water come to his feet, staining his wet socks. Your flats were spread on the ground along with your knit cardigan, soggy from the water. Inside of the shower was you, clothed with your makeup running, hugging your knees as you looked down.

Dick let out a soft sigh as he looked at you, his shoulder slouching down. It was paining him to see you in this state, “Oh honey..”

You didn’t move, only your eyes did. He walked towards you, into the shower. He wore a white suit and dress pants, which were now we're stuck to his skin. He put himself right next to you as the hot water warmed his cold skin. You adjusted yourself to lean on his wet shoulder. Dick said there as you leaned on him for comfort, listening to the white noise of the shower.

“I tried,” You mumbled as your fingers ran circles in his arm.

Dick looked down at you with his strawberry hair sticking to his forehead and drips of water rushing down his face. He frowned, tiping his head to the side.

“I tried and tried, time after time. I tried so hard and I…” You lamented, grasping onto Dick’s arm. It was hard to spit out the words. You had already said the first half of it, you needed to say more. “I just can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Do what?” Dick questioned, his fingers lifting your chin. Tears streamed down your cheeks, your mascara coming down along with it. His thumb wiped away the incoming hot tears. He was too kind to you. His mere presence reassured you. “Don’t cry, my little wife. Let me help you. Whatever it is, whatever you need, I-”

“I can’t have children. Not now, or ever.” The words came out your mouth. It felt like you were spitting fire. It felt strange like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. Even though it was gone, it still lingered. “I went to the doctor last week. I’m infertile, Dick.”

Dick just sat with a frown on his face. You couldn’t tell what was going through his head. His free arm had wrapped around your shoulder was slowly falling as he let go of your chin, making an “oh” noise.

You looked at him and let out a sob as your face fell into your hands. “I didn’t wanna tell you. I know you’ve wanted children, every man wants that for their wife. You want a son who looks like you, and a wife who can provide that for you. I can’t. I wanted it too, but I watched my dream break. I’m supposed to give you a baby like a normal wife should...” Through the sniffling and sobs, you refused to look at Dick. He seemed disappointed, but you could never tell what he was feeling. “If you want a wife who can give you a child, then, by all means, do so. I’m worthless.”

You could feel it. Your relationship was over. Maybe it was for the better. Dick could start his family, and you could work a job in Philadelphia. They did have an opening in Philadelphia. It was better to have nobody-so you couldn’t get hurt and hurt others around you.

“No,”

Slowly removing your hands from your face, you turned to Dick. You scooted back, not able to tell if he was upset at you. “No?”

“No. You’re not worthless, y/n.” Dick attested, “What would make you think such a thing?”

“We’ve always wanted a family down the line. You would kiss my stomach every night, talking to the...” You looked down at your flat stomach, your hand gently squeezing the skin. It broke your heart even more just feeling what Dick assumed was Margaret and Thomas. “Just didn’t want you to get mad at me. I know you're upset with me.”

“Don’t give me that malarkey,” He growled, crawled closer to you as he grabbed your cheeks with your foreheads nuzzling towards each other. You could feel the warmth on the top of your forehead, “I’m not upset. You didn’t have to hide this from me. I should’ve known, I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

Dick tenderly grabbed your shoulders and leaned you back on the white subway wall. He was gentle as he wiped the sticky hair from your face for a clearer view. He had a soft smile as he caressed your cheek with you leaning into it.

“But if I can’t give you children, what good use am I?”

“The reason I married you wasn’t that I wanted a family. At that moment, in that cornfield, I wanted you to be my wife. If I didn’t tell you, I don’t know if I would’ve died content with my life,” Dick complimented with a kiss to your wet hand. “You're not just a pawn used for children-my little wife. Just because you can’t have children doesn’t mean I won’t leave you. I wouldn’t even consider the thought. It’d be hard to find someone like you, y/n. Nobody as hardworking, beautiful, and fiery”

A chuckle escaped your lips, “Like a cornfield?”

“Like a cornfield,” He assured. “I don’t care about children, the past, the future, anything. I married you because I was in love with the beautiful, growing woman five years ago, and I still am. All I care about is my little wife, y/n-you. I love you.”

You nuzzled into his shoulder, “I..love you too, Dick.”

Silent communication was your and Dick’s form of romance. You didn’t need big gestures and materialistic gifts to feel comforted, sometimes you just needed someone right next to you, or in your arms. The silence was nice and the warmth was needed. Dick’s warmth felt like a little touch of heaven, warm, together, cozy. You wished that you could extend the night just so you could stay in his comforting embrace, relived in his hold. In his hold, you believed that there is nothing to fear, that there is all sunshine and love. Dick was the cure you needed, a lone star in an otherwise empty sky, he was the morningstar that you prayed wouldn’t disappear.

“I’ll make us dinner,” Dick said as he got up. “I’ll even run you a bath. Does that sound good, my little wife?”

Your fingers held the tip of his hands. Your (y/c/e)‘s met with his mint ones that shined in the pristine light. He gently helped you up with a hand resting on your waist.

Resting a hand on his chin, you looked down and shook your head. “I want to make dinner with you. I feel clean.”

“Are you sure?” Dick questioned, pulling you closer to his body. “I know you haven’t been sleeping.”

“Well I’m not tired. I haven’t felt like we’ve talked lately. You’ve been gone and I’ve been distant.” You confessed. The brutally honest was needed now. You tipped your head to look at Dick. “I wouldn’t mind a helping hand.”

“Fine, if you insist,” He placed his hand on your upper back and swept you off your fear. You let out a little chuckle as you snaked an arm around his shoulder for stability, “You said you needed a helping hand.”

Once you and Dick changed out of your wet clothes and into your matching silk robes (gifted by Lew, the man even had your initials engraved into the pocket), the two of you headed down to the kitchen to cook. The radio played in the back and the kettle silently brewed as you sautéed the chicken and Dick set the small table in the tiny dining space.

“Hey, y/n?”

“Yeah?” You looked behind you as you washed your hands of the greasy oils and spices.

“Did you grow up with dogs?”

You nodded as you dried your hands, “Two-a Westie and Cairn terrier. Your point?”

Dick came over the counter as he leaned on it with a smirk. It wasn’t condescending, but it looked like an idea had popped in his head. You loved it when he smirked or smiled; the dimples on his cheeks would show.

“I know you get lonely when I’m not around. Lew knows a lot of good breeders in the area. How do two dogs sound?”

You were lonely. Loneliness was a feeling you knew all too well. It haunted you as a child and adult. Except when you were a child, you thought it would disappear. But in truth, it did not.

“Two dogs sound nice, Dick,” You confessed. The kettle began to make a shrieking noise. Walking over, you grabbed two cups and poured hot water into them. The water from clear to a darkish brown. You let the bags settle for a few minutes before taking the two cups over and handing one to your strawberry blonde husband.

“There breed? Are we sure Lew won’t try and steal them?”

“Well, Lew wouldn’t steal them. He and Grace already have enough animals to take care of,” Dick put his two big hands around the mug. “Two terriers, a boy, and girl. Just like the ones you grew up with.”

“Ok,” You smiled, raising your eyebrows. “And their names?”

Dick took a sip of his tea before smacking his thin lips. “I was thinking of Margaret and Thomas. Do you like that?”

You finally knew the answer to why Dick was asking about getting dogs. Not that you were in protest. Dogs were like children-just easier to take care of.

“Yeah, I like that a lot.”

Dick put a hand over yours, giving it a reassuring squeezed. He smiled at you, and you smiled back.

Within the week, Lew had come over with the cutest puppies you had ever seen. He had also brought over all of the necessary supplies for two puppies, and even two sweaters with their names. One was a feisty and quiet Westie named Thomas and the other was a sweetheart with a sour side named Margaret. You and Dick loved them more than anything in the world. They were fed Filet Mignon from the table, slept in between you and Dick, and always for what they wanted. Even Dick gave into their puppy eyes whenever they got into trouble. The reason he wanted dogs in the first place was for his little wife; y/n-you. Not only did he want to make you feel a little less lonely in your little colonial house, but protected. Dick wasn’t always there to look out for you, even though he knew you could handle yourself just fine. Still, it was the thought that counted. Knowing that you would have two little balls of energy to keep you entertained made Dick content, and so did you.

Lewis Nixon was right all along. He never saw you and Dick having children. In his wise words, dogs were “far superior” than children. Dogs didn’t cry as much, they weren’t as needy, and they didn’t wake you up in the middle of the night. Mostly.

You would see the way the dogs would interact with Dick, and how Dick would interact with them. He’d treat them like children. From rocking Margaret in his arms to having long conversations with Thomas about why he shouldn’t bite you his mother while you peacefully sleep, it made your heart skip a beat, seeing Dick be so gentle with the two puppies.

Every night before you would head to bed, Dick would always remind you that his dream had finally come true; buying the little patch of land in Lancaster for the farm was within reach. He’d give you a kiss and pull you close as the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms.

You broke away from the terrifying cliff that you had looked down, heading towards your morning star, Dick, with hope that it wouldn’t disappear.

[kyber-crystal]

safe with him || s.r

summary: following your reunion after weeks apart drifting through space, steve becomes an overprotective mother hen and refuses to let you out of his sight.  

words: ~1.3k

warnings: very slightly mentions of angst, soft cap, fluff. UNEDITED so it’s VERY poorly written i’m sorry

a/n: a part 2 to Lost In Space, as requested by anon! it’s been FOREVER since i first published that fic but i’m so glad you went back and read it! you can read this as a standalone too tho. POST IW---PRE-ENDGAME AU

After your touched down at the compound, Steve was refusing to leave your side. 

Whenever you moved about, he was never far behind—always staying within a foot of where you stood or sat. You wanted to protest, to reassure him you were just fine—but you understood his urge to go full-on overprotective worried mother hen mode. It was in his nature to worry. 

"Darling,” he spoke so softly it took everyone by surprise. It was a tone of voice the team rarely ever heard him use—it was a tone specifically reserved for you, and only you. 

“Hmm?” You pulled his jacket tightly around your shoulders, watching Tony from outside, worriedly peering through the glass walls. “What’s up?”

"C’mere,” he spread his arms out towards you. You didn’t hesitate to step forward, walking straight into his warm embrace. As soon as your head found its way against his heart you were at ease and your hands slid up his back in response, gently gripping the fabric of his T-shirt. 

You let out a sigh of contentment, closing your eyes as he rested his chin on your head and pressed a soft kiss to your temple—letting his lips linger there for a second longer than usual. It felt nice to be with him again. After weeks of complete separation and no contact whatsoever, you’d found yourself missing Steve so much your chest physically ached just thinking about him.

If time permitted, you would’ve stayed like that forever. You wanted nothing more, nothing less, than to have him hold you until the very end of your days—and he wanted to do the same, as well. 

Your heart felt hollowed and carved out; empty after the wake of the Snap, after the world was shocked into utter devastation. You lost your practically-siblings, Wanda and Peter, you lost your best pals, Sam, Bucky, you lost your mentor and father figure, Doctor Strange. You lost all your friends and family and you didn’t know what to do. You felt lost and alone; helpless.

You sought out comfort in the warmth of Steve’s embrace and his piercing gaze, stunning blue eyes that would never fail to keep you calm yet make your heart race at the same time. Blue eyes brimming with sheer love and adoration—for you. You don’t need to say anything for him to wrap you into a tight hug—he could read you like an open book—he knew you almost as well as you knew yourself, if not even better. “Doll, I even remember your exact order from that Thai place we always order takeout from,” he’d say, “Spicy shrimp pad thai, pineapple fried rice, and taro milk tea with 50% ice and 25% sweetness,” as well as other oddly specific facts nobody else would know unless you told them yourself or they peeked through your file, “You were born (Y/B/D) at exactly 12:01:36 a.m. You’re a Brooklyn kid, just like me,” “You love action films, crime dramas, and pulling all-nighters to watch the sunrise.”

Maybe that’s what made you let down your guard around him and trust him so easily. Maybe that’s why you felt so safe around him—there was little to nothing he didn't know about you—so there was no point in hiding.

“You’re tired,” he murmured into your hair. “When’s the last time you got any rest?”

When you didn’t answer because you were too worn out to do so, he observed your bloodshot eyes and dark circles, which told him all he needed to know. “Let’s get you sitting down again, doll. You’ve had a long day.”

You nodded numbly as he led you back to the lounge. He sat down on the plushy couch next to you, and you stretched out, resting your head in his lap. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and gently raking his fingers through your soft hair. 

“Hey, Y/N-” Bruce paused and quickly lowered his voice when he saw you’d fallen asleep. He came and carefully draped a blanket over your body before taking a step back. “Are you sure she’s alright...”

“I don’t know,” Steve exhaled, brushing stray hairs away from your face. “If her fatigue alone is telling me anything, then...”

He nodded. “Alright...why don’t you take her back to her room, Cap, and I’ll go grab the IV drip.” 

“Rogers.”

“Hey, Nat...”

“I saw that little exchange outside." He wasn’t smirking at all, just had a small smile on. “Guess you finally worked up the courage to do it, huh.”

“Actually...she initiated it. But I think I would’ve done it sooner or later,” he smiled down at your sleeping form, “I missed her.”

“I know. I did too.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’m glad she’s back. I’ve had enough of you moping around trying to get drunk, when you know for a fact you can’t.”

“Natasha...”

“I’m just messing with you,” she laughed. “I gotta go talk to Rhodes about something, so you keep taking care of your girl, alright?”

“Yeah.”

...

You woke up to find yourself in bed. An IV needle was inserted into the crook of your elbow, and a worried Steve Rogers was sitting in a chair he’d pulled up to your bedside, head in your lap as he gripped your hand tightly. 

“Hi. Steve. You awake?” 

“Hmmm?” He lifted his head up and blinked several times. “Y/N! You’re awake. That’s good.”

You yawned. “What time is it?”

“A little past 10 a.m. You hungry? I can fix something up for you, if you want. How’d you sleep? Bruce had to administer some treatments for you...you were hit pretty hard after living on nothing but packaged meals and granola bars for several weeks.”

“I don’t feel like passing out anymore,” you shrugged, “So that’s good. What about you? How much sleep did you get? Or did you stay here...the entire time...”

“A few hours, on and off.”

“And when you say few hours, you really mean...a few minutes here and there, don’t you,” you said in a slightly accusatory tone. “Steve, really? I’m not a child. I’m basically not much younger than you, I can get by on my own.”

"You had me really worried, Y/N. When I didn’t see you return...I thought I’d actually lost you. I don’t even want to think about how that’d affect me if it were to be true.”

“Awww,” you stuck your bottom lip out slightly, teasing him, “Does the big, muscular, giant puppy, Captain America, care about me?”

“I'm supposed to protect you, to watch over you,” he tried defending himself, but the flush of his cheeks gave it all away. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Okay, then...” You nodded, leaning back against the headboard, the aftereffects of all the meds beginning to catch up with you. “Man, I’m tired. Doesn’t matter if I sleep 14 minutes or 14 hours, I’m always going to feel like crap.”

“But I do care about you,” Steve corrected himself, “that’s true. I always have.”

His voice was so soothing, so calming—you wanted to swoon and fall asleep to it at the same time. You felt your stomach flutter with butterflies. 

“That’s nice,” you closed your eyes, smiling sleepily, “because I care about you too. Wouldn’t have spilled all my feelings in that voice recording if I didn’t. I was scared I’d never see you again, either...”

“A recording?” He raised a brow. “What’d it say?’

“That I love you and I always have and always will,” you breathed out, eyes still closed, “But I think I’ve made that fact obvious enough already.”

“Can I kiss you?” he spoke suddenly.

"You can kiss me any day, Captain,” you smiled as you leaned in. He closed the gap and connected your lips with his. You felt a pleasant stirring sensation in your chest—and so did he. 

And you finally felt like you were home again.

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

so I wrote most of this...four days ago, and then somehow didn’t get around to finishing it until just now, which feels super weird because after writing this I started getting worried about future episodes again for a variety of reasons, and of course now we’re at T minus 10 minutes? (honestly if I’m somehow late for my own funeral I’m pretty sure no one will be surprised.) but I still wanted to post this to go over some of what I liked so much about episode 4, even if...I am no longer anywhere near as confident as I was a few days ago about where the show might be going. whatever.

***

I’ve done almost nothing for the past day or so except chew over episode 4 some more, partly trying to figure out why I liked it so much when it was broadly very divisive, and I realized that a lot of what I’ve been feeling from this episode is relief.

the thing is I’ve been paranoid since at least Infinity War about Marvel doing setup that looks like it’ll lead to a big payoff and then nothing (Loki’s death, but also Gamora’s and maybe Vision’s, and the general fact that the “fix” to IW was convoluted, took place much later, and caused as many problems as it solved, and just, Endgame in general), so I don’t really trust Marvel that way anymore. plus Marvel has pretty badly fumbled a lot of different things in the past, especially on various social issues, by introducing unfortunate implications that apparently didn’t occur to them even though they’re obvious to literally everyone else...stuff like Thanos’s “sacrifice” of Gamora, or how the Flag-Smashers were portrayed and Karli was a villain for no real reason, or how it would’ve been so easy to add a couple lines in WandaVision that would fix the whole thing where the Maximoffs weren’t just whitewashed but they also voluntarily worked with Nazis and they whiffed that too. 

so, while I’ve been enjoying the show, a lot of that enjoyment has been based on meta I’ve seen and me sort of going “this interpretation is really cool and it makes a lot of sense, but at this point I can’t know if it’s something the showrunners are doing on purpose or if they sorta accidentally implied depth where there wasn’t any and it’s not actually leading anywhere” with things like the TVA being very clearly authoritarian but also supposedly the good guys, Loki being constantly described as an awful person, Loki sometimes being manic or incompetent, etc. etc. etc., along with the similar interpretation of “sure, we fans know all this stuff about how Loki is not an awful person actually, thanks, and the people who arrested him aren’t automatically Good Guys just because they’re in opposition to him but casual viewers--including not-casual-but-not-fannish viewers who should really know better--have not figured any of this out and so the show needs to go out of its way to demonstrate things that are obvious to us” but I wasn’t sure. the second half of episode 1 made me feel pretty good about where the show was headed as far as Loki’s characterization and emotions were concerned, but the more lighthearted aspects of 2 and 3 had me wondering again.

so then what happens in this episode?

the TVA goes fully mask off. the Time-Keepers are in fact fake, the Sacred Timeline by extension is also basically fake, the people who work there are all variants, the ones we know (C-20, B-15, Mobius) show grief and anger over the lives that were stolen from them, Sylvie is arrested as a child who did absolutely nothing wrong (and then put through the same process Loki was in episode 1, which is cool because a lot of it was kinda played for laughs then but showing the same things happening to an innocent child also serves to reframe what happened to Loki as, hmm, not that funny after all maybe!), Renslayer is willing to prune innocent people--friends and coworkers, even--just because they learned too much, all the sinister propaganda WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SINISTER

Loki gets very serious very fast in this episode. he displays a lot of genuine emotion and trauma but he mostly does it in a calculated way that shows just how fast his brain works and how he’s always, always thinking about what other people want/expect from him. (like--even the complaint about too few guards seems to fall into that category, given that he only says it after Mobius insists he must be wanting to make some kind of quip!) his self-image is garbage but through Sylvie he’s starting to maybe work on that. he goes up against multiple armed enemies while completely unarmed and holds his own until he gets a weapon. he pushes back when it matters and doesn’t just accept everything Mobius throws at him. he lies, pretty competently (the fact that Mobius doesn’t believe him is...really not his fault, considering Mobius wouldn’t believe him at first about the truth either, so I’m pretty sure he wasn’t planning to believe anything Loki outright told him), when it actually matters, primarily in what sure seems like an attempt to protect someone he cares about.

and Mobius. says that Loki WAS RIGHT. ABOUT THE TVA. FROM THE BEGINNING!!! I would still love to hear him say explicitly, look, I said a lot of shitty things to you and tossed in some actual physical torture at the end there oops but the vast majority of it was stuff I didn’t really mean and was only saying to get a reaction and/or information and of course it turns out I was wrong about all the TVA stuff, so I want to say for the record that I was wrong about you personally in many different ways and I’m sorry. (which, honestly, would probably be very awkward for both of them because I doubt Loki has much experience receiving genuine apologies.) but I’m mostly okay with it if he doesn’t, because I feel like you were right from the beginning, and by the way you can be whatever you want does a decent job of implying most of that. (...enough for casual viewers to pick up on it? well, I’m not hoping for miracles but sure, probably some of them.)

in other words? all that stuff the casual viewers were missing (not helped by misleading statements from the showrunners), about the TVA so clearly being bad guys, and Loki being a pretty decent person who presents different versions of himself in different situations and also has some shitty coping mechanisms, and the other Loki variant also not being evil just because they were trying to take down the TVA? we were right. that is, in fact, how the showrunners intended all those things to be taken. they didn’t want to come right out with that stuff at first because they wanted to tell a story and have some twists, and the fact that these things were twists for casual viewers is exactly why it was frustrating to a lot of fans, because it felt like obvious things were being misrepresented or overlooked. I still think that’s reasonable, because see above on why Marvel doesn’t necessarily deserve that trust, but at this point I’m a lot more comfortable believing that this specific show more or less knows what it’s doing.

I mean, yeah, there were some cool fan theories that went nowhere, like the whole thing with the broken TemPad, and I agree that was dumb and it’s very annoying that it really was just sloppy writing, but I guess specific things like that just...don’t bother me as much as more systemic, overarching elements like the characterization of Loki and the TVA. and yes, of course I’ll always be annoyed that we’re apparently never going to get explicit confirmation that Loki’s alliance with Thanos was coerced at best. but, you know, what we got isn’t nothing.