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godmadeaterribleerror · 2 days ago

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It's Been Calling Me

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, light angst, shameless smut (oral f receiving, p in v sex), fluff, soulmates, dreams, told over many years, no use of y/n

Summary/Warnings: You've had these… dreams. Strange, realistic, detailed dreams of the same man, almost your whole life. But they're just dreams. You've been so sure, for so long, that they're just dreams.

So sure, until you're not.

Author's Note: I love this one. I love using fake Marvel science logic. I love putting sad men in situations where they can't escape love. I love semi-linear storytelling. Enjoy!

Word Count: 10.9k

“I get… dreams.” You mumble, staring at an odd point over Dr. Raynor’s head. It’s always better than looking her in the eyes. “They’re weird.”

“The very nature of dreams is to be strange.” You can see the shrug of Raynor’s shoulders, hear the neural expression that must be on her face. “Although if you feel they’re worthy of note-“

“They are.”

Raynor hums. She’s probably raising her brows. You still won’t look.

“You sound quite certain of that.”

“I am.” You tuck your knees up to your chest, frowning at the air. “It’s- They’re not new.”

“Ah.” Raynor pauses, then says your name. In the gentle but firm therapist way that you really hate. It makes you feel like a child. “This conversation may be easier if you would look at me.”

“No thanks, I’m-“

She says your name again. A little harsher. “We’ve discussed this. You’re here of your own volition-“

“That’s not true.” You mutter. “Court-ordered isn’t volition.”

“Well you could’ve chosen the inpatient ward.” Raynor’s shrugging again. “Look at me.”

You let out a long breath, and meet her gaze. You’d been right. She was raising her brows.

“Good work.” She gives you a tight-lipped smile and small nod of approval. “Tell me about these dreams.”

It takes a minute to find the words. Not because you don’t have them, but because you’d never expected to use them. You’ve rehearsed them in the mirror a million times, but they always sounded insane, and you didn’t need another reason to be called crazy.

“I’ve had them my whole life.” It’s easiest to start there. “But it’s- they’ve changed. Over time.”

“Changed how?”

“It’s hard to explain-“

“Try.”

You scowl. “I am trying, Christina, but there’s kind of a lot to say-“

Raynor sighs, giving you the patented look of disapproval that you might hate more than how she says your name. “How about telling me when they started. Is that do-able?”

It takes a long, deep breath, but you nod. “I was- I think I was ten. I fell asleep, and it was the first dream I’d ever had. The first one that I remembered when I woke up. It was…” You swallow, and there’s a sting in your nails as you rip more skin away. “Really vivid.”

——

This isn’t your body. It’s too big, too tall, and you’re not nearly strong enough to rip a door off its hinges. This body is sprinting across ice without ever breaking pace or falling flat with a crunch. You can’t even walk up stairs without tripping over thin air.

But this doesn’t really feel like a body at all. It feels like a shell, or tool. Hollow and pressed down, moving so mechanically you’d think it was a machine if you couldn’t hear its heartbeat in your ears. There’s a lot of pain in it. Strangely numb pain, as if the owner of this body doesn’t allow himself to dwell on it, shuttering it off to the side as he moves.

You’re pretty sure it's a he. There’s hair in your eyes, but men can have long hair, and when the body’s arms swing into view they’re big and muscular. You’re also pretty sure there’s something between your legs that wasn’t there when you went to sleep.

And you can feel him. Very, very deep in your head, he’s bellowing and scraping at his own scalp. He feels like a caged animal, but this is his body. He’s roaring things that are more like feral sounds than actual words, and every time he gets loud enough for you to make out a real voice something clamps down on your skull—his skull—and it all goes quiet.

You can see another man in your line of vision. He’s on his knees, trembling and begging, but the noise is muffled and static. As if there’s a filter pushing anything coherent out of your head.

A gloved fist that’s attached to your body—but not yours to control—reaches out and grabs the man by his throat. It squeezes.

He’s desperate. Locked down and furious, the ‘he’ who you’re possessing is almost pleading with himself to stop.

But he doesn’t.

And there’s a sickening snap that will echo in your ears for a long time after you wake up.

——

Raynor’s looking at you like you’re insane. You don’t love it.

“Did you��” She pauses, scanning over you with a small frown. “Did you see the hand?”

You blink at her. “Yeah, I just said-“

“Without the glove.” She clarifies. “The one that snapped the man’s neck. Did you ever see it without the glove.”

It’s an oddly specific question. And she seems to be looking for a certain answer, because in all your time of working with Raynor she’s never looked so obviously invested in a story.

“Not for a while.” You keep your words slow, watching her wearily. “He always wore the gloves. And when he didn’t, he wouldn’t look at his hands-“

Raynor frowns. “So how did you know he wasn’t wearing the gloves?”

“Because he knew.” You shrug. “I lived in his brain like, every night.”

“Every-“

“Night, yeah. That’s what I fucking said.”

Raynor hums, and you think she’s going to grab the notebook to write something along the lines of patient has lost her goddamn mind, but she just keeps staring at you. “You said you didn’t see the hand for a while. When did you see it?”

“When I was sixteen. The first time the dreams changed.”

“Changed from-“

“Being in his head.” You pull your lip between your teeth, weighing how much you want to reveal. Too much feels like a violation of his privacy, even if they’re your dreams. He’s a private guy, it took you years to get him to tell you anything, and if you’ve realized turns out to be the truth, you don’t want to ruin anything. “It’s- it was about six years of seeing everything through his eyes-“

“Everything?”

You wish Raynor would stop saying the word every like that. Like it’s a lie.

“All the murders.” You mutter. “There were a lot of murders.”

Raynor nods for you to continue, and you have to take a long, steadying breath.

“One night I went to sleep and he was… attacking some blond guy. We couldn’t really see his face. Then I fell asleep the next night, and it was different.”

——

You can see him. You’ve never seen him before.

He’d never looked in a mirror, or described himself in his head for you like he’s a Wattpad character. He’s only ever been a body that moves out of your will, and a pained voice deep in your brain that didn’t seemed thrilled with what was happening either.

But you’re not in his head, or his body. You’re standing in a bathroom—in your own body, wearing the same clothing you’d been wearing when you’d crawled into bed—and looking at him.

He’s a lot more attractive than you’d anticipated. And you’d anticipated attractive. You’d built an image in your head of your imaginary dream assassin, basing it purely on a level of hotness that would justify all the murders he’d been up to. It had been a little fucked up, but you’d also been so goddamn sure he wasn’t real. That this was just a really odd and worrying coping mechanism for all the messed up shit in your real life.

But he seems pretty fucking real right now. And almost impossibly handsome. Strong features that look like they’d been carved from marble, an almost hulking frame that’s somehow bigger when you’re looking at it from outside, and tangled, greasy hair that’s really working with the whole tortured expression on his face.

Because he does not look okay.

He’s gripping the sink and glowering at himself, scanning over his own face like he recognizes it less than you do. He’s bent like there’s a weight on his shoulders he doesn’t know how to shake off, and that’s impressive, because you’ve seen him pick up a car.

The porcelain of the sink cracks, and he flinches back, looking between his hands and the rubble with wide eyes.

His eyes are blue. A really pretty blue. You’d always thought blue eyes were overrated—big whoop, you’re more sensitive to light—but there’s something silver in this man’s eyes that you really love. It feels like a deep storm you’d like to chase.

He’s really pretty.

He doesn’t seem like the type of guy who would like being called pretty, but he is. In a natural and powerful way. Like something heavenly that’s burned through the atmosphere in a dreadful fall.

Pretty face, pretty eyes, pretty hands-

Metal hand.

One metal hand.

——

Raynor looks worried now. You wish she’d go back to thinking you’re just batshit crazy.

“Do you-” she clears her throat, sitting a little taller in her chair. “His name. Did you ever learn his name?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Does that matter?”

“Yes.”

It’s a flat, tense answer. It makes something coil in your throat.

“I-“ You rub your own calves, soothing yourself in the careful way you’ve always practiced. “I didn’t, for a while-“

Raynor says your name, her tone short and clipped. “Stop telling me something didn’t happen for a while. If I ask a question, it’s because I need to know the answer. Not the buildup.”

You frown. “Need to know?”

“It’s…” Raynor sighs. “It is very important that you give me a name.”

“Why?”

“Therapist reasons.”

You give her a flat look. “That’s not a real thing.”

“Yes, it is. Name.”

“If you need the name,” you say, raising your chin slightly. “You have to sit through my for a while.”

Raynor gives you a look of disbelief, shaking her head and muttering something that sounds like God, I can’t take two of them, before raising her voice. “Fine. What was for a while.”

“I couldn’t talk to him.” You explain. “For like, two years after I got out of his brain, he still couldn’t see me. When I tried to talk to him it was like I was in a- sort of a one-way mirror? And it’s not like he was just walking around telling the air I’m Bucky-“

“Bucky?” Raynor looks downright distressed. “His name was-“

“It’s Bucky.”

He still is. He’s not a was, Bucky is.

That’s part of the problem.

“And how-“ Raynor swallows. “How did you learn this?”

“He told me.”

——

This is new. You’re not on a street or in a half-empty apartment—the two places you’ve grown most accustomed to seeing in your sleep—but in a field. A very big field with huts and brush and goats.

There are a truly staggering amount of goats.

And there he is. His hair isn’t greasy and unkempt anymore, but looks almost soft, pulled back in a half-up half-down situation that makes him look clean. His metal arm is gone, but he doesn’t seem that bothered by it. He’s standing taller than before, like the weight you’ve grown used to seeing finally has begun to lift.

His outfit is new too. It looks like something traditional and well-made, rather than the off-brand baseball hats—you too are a big fan of the American baseball team, the ‘Doggers’—and shitty polyester t-shirts.

You’re taking him and scenery in, trying to place where your brain could’ve possibly taken you this time, when he does something you’d never expected.

He turns and looks at you.

Not through you. Not around you. Not in your general direction.

At you.

He can fucking see you.

“Hello?”

You’ve heard him speak before, a few times. His voice has always been low and gruff and heavy.

It’s smooth and richer now. You don’t know if that’s because it’s directed at you—setting off small sparks over your ribs—or in relation to that vanished weight, but you like it. It suits him better.

“Hi.” You whisper, your body frozen in place as he moves forward.

He’s right in front of you. Staring at you.

He’s always gotten prettier every time you’ve seen him. This is different.

This is knocking the air out of your lungs with just the sight of him, because there’s a light in his eyes you’ve never seen before, and it makes something deep inside of you glow.

“I’m, uh, I’m Bucky.”

He holds out his hand, and you tilt your head at him.

“That’s a weird name.”

He blinks at you, his hand still frozen in the air. “I guess, yeah. Never thought about it. It’s just a nickname.”

“Oh.” That makes more sense. “Sorry. That’s- I just never thought you as- never mind.”

Bucky frowns at you, opening his mouth—likely ask you what you mean by that—but you say your name and shake his hand because he gets the chance.

He has a nice hand. It warm, and calloused, and fits really well in yours.

“Why can you see me?” You blurt, and there goes any pretense of containing the truth.

Bucky frowns at you. “Should I… Not be able to see you?”

“You’ve never seen me before.”

“Before? What do you mean-“

“It’s- It’s weird. And complicated.”

He just stares at you, waiting for you to continue.

You’re holding his gaze. You’ve never held anyone’s gaze before.

It’s kind of electrifying.

“I’ve dreamt about you before.” You mumble. “And you’ve never seen me.”

“About me?”

He doesn’t sound like he believes you. You get that. It’s not really a reasonable or believable statement.

“Yeah. But you had two arms. And there weren’t goats.”

Bucky nods slowly, and seems to reach a conclusion in his brain that you don’t get to be privy to.

It’s enough for him though. Because he gives you a small, almost nervous and apologetic smile.

“Do you wanna, uh, do you wanna meet the goats?”

You blink at him. You’d expected more questions, or some doubt. But he’s just looking at you, something in his pretty blue eyes almost hopeful.

“Are they...” You trail off, glancing at the goats over his shoulder. “Your goats?”

“They’re community goats.” He shrugs. “But Shuri says connection with life will help my recovery, and I don’t really want to connect with people.” His voice lowers, and it sounds like he’s mostly talking to himself. “They don’t really like connecting with me.”

You don’t know who the fuck Shuri is, but you nod anyway. “So goats?”

He gives you another odd look, like he’d expected you to say something else.

“Yeah. Goats.”

“Did you name them?”

He frowns. “They’re goats. They don’t need names.”

You click your tongue, shaking your head. “Wrong. Everything needs a name. I named my car, and my phone.”

“You named your phone?”

“Yep.” You grin at him, and it’s a wide, teasing grin you haven’t given anyone in years. “Bertha.”

“That’s…” Bucky’s still staring at you–he seems to do that a lot—but there’s something like amusement in his eyes. “Bertha is not a good name.”

“Better than Bucky.”

He chuckles at that, and it’s a beautiful sound. Deep and heavy, like a bass drum in your chest.

It’s the sort of thing that could be addicting, if you’re not careful. Worse, it’s the sort of thing you wouldn’t mind being addicted to.

“You’re kinda mean, doll.”

“Yep.” You shrug, ignoring how ‘doll’ makes you feel fuzzy in your gut. “And I’ll be meaner if you don’t let me name your goats.”

He hums, scanning you over with an intensity in his eyes that reminds you of that storm you’d see all those years ago in the bathroom. This time, you’d like to do a little more than chase it.

You think it could be really easy to get wrecked by it.

“Will you come back if I let you name them?”

He keeps saying things you don’t expect. Of course you’ll come back. You don’t have a choice.

But you nod, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Only if you promise to actually use the names.”

He nods, giving you another smile. “Deal.”

———

“Did you ever learn his last name?”

You shake your head. “I never asked. He mentioned his real name was James at one point, but then I asked why he was called ‘Bucky’ and we got off topic.”

“One… point?” Raynor’s words are slow, and you’ve really never seen her looked lost like this before. You’d be proud of yourself if it wasn’t a bad sign. “Exactly how frequently did these dreams occur?”

———

“You’re back!”

Bucky looks genuinely happy to see you. He does every night. The same surprised joy in his voice, shock always written over his face like it’s truly odd and lovely to see you here.

Like you’re not here every night, for three to four hours, standing in his little hut and wandering the fields.

You’ve worked out that you’ve put him in Africa. Wakanda specifically, likely because you’d seen it all over the news and it seemed pretty interesting. Shuri was the princess, and the guy T’challa Bucky had mentioned a few times was the King. You’d almost certainly heard their names during all those UN conferences—the ones you put on in the background just to hear some noise that wasn’t ringing in your ears—and your brain had just decided to run with it.

At least, you think it’s just your brain. You’ve always assumed this was all in your brain, because this feels like the exact kind of fucked up shit your brain would pull. And Bucky never aged. He’d never really changed, for six years. He’d had just been another way to cope for the longest time, but now—as you actually get to know him—he seems dangerously like a real person.

He looks like he broods less than when you see him hunched over a toilet or glowering at his reflection in a window. His appearance has started to shift in a way it never really had.

The metal arm has permanently departed. He seems fond of keeping his hair out of eyes, and his wardrobe finally has diversity. He talks to you, and he has a personality. An adorable, grumpy, endearing personality that would play into your idea of ‘made up in your brain’ if he couldn’t be so annoying.

He stares. He grunts a lot. He doesn’t get any of your references. If you made up an imaginary dream man to feel more loved, he would like all the things you like and hate all the things you hate.

But he doesn’t.

And it always draws you in further, because he truly does seem like just a perfectly insufferable asshole.

That’s cruel. He’d been right. You could be mean.

He never seemed to mind.

And he’s more like a dog anyway. One that escaped the pound and follows you around, not even bothering to beg for scraps because you offer them with a grin.

You like his company. You like his voice. You like that he’s annoying and you like more that it’s your exact type of annoying.

You like that he’s really fucking hot, and get hotter every time you visit.

You mostly just like him.

“Of course I’m back.” You shrug, kicking a rock with the tip of your foot, watching it bounce through the dirt. “I’m always back.”

“Yeah. So far.” You see Bucky shrug in your periphery, and when you look up, he’s staring again. “Could change.”

“Won’t change.” You counter, giving him a pointed look. “Sorry, Buck. You’re stuck here until I die.”

That’s the first time you’ve called him Buck. He tenses for a moment, seems to shake something physically off his body, and nods slowly.

“Should I be worried about you dying?”

“Not right now, no.” You hum. Another rock gets kicked. “Death doesn’t agree with me.”

He chuckles. “Don’t think it agrees with anyone, doll-“

“Shut up.” Third rock. This one hits a goat, and you cringe slightly. “Shit. Sorry, Bubble McBubbleface-“

“Bubs will be.” Bucky rolls his eyes, moving to your side. He’s standing really close. You can almost feel a phantom heat from his body. “And I still can’t believe you talked me into that name. I had to tell the king of the damn country that his goat was named Bubble McBubbleface.”

You giggle, and Bucky shoots you a glare.

“You think that’s funny? I had to like pretend it was my idea,” he grumbles your name, and you always like how he says it. Like it’s some sort of answer. “I had to look the council of elders in the eyes and tell them that Bubble McBubbleface got Lady Gaga pregnant-“

Your eyes widen. “You let the goats get pregnant?”

“Course I let them get pregnant, doll.”

“But-“

He gives you a dry, amused look. “Would you rather I interfere? You want me to cockblock Bubs?”

You blink at him. “You know what cockblock means?”

Your brain had given him the personality of an eighty-year-old man. You don’t know why, but you stopped asking questions like “why” and “what” a long time ago. You just know that he shouldn’t know what cockblock means, for consistency.

“Of course I know what it means. You taught it to me.” He winks at you, and you’re pretty sure you’re flushing.

This is meant to be a dream. You shouldn’t be able to flush, or feel a little flutter and hum in your heart, or something molten in your gut when he leans a little further forward to grin down at you.

This seems less like a dream every night.

You’d be worried about that if you had the energy, or foresight, or care.

“Are goats births gross?” You ask, and he chuckles again. The sound has started to inflict a sort of high on your brain, and every color in this dreamworld seems brighter.

“They’re fucking disgusting.” He leans a little further down. You have to stare at his nose to pretend the proximity isn’t going to make your fall over. “But if you let me show you one in here, I’ll let you name the babies out there.”

You nod kind of stupidly, the whole world shifts into a barn—goat births are disgusting, but Bucky gets a look of intense focus you’d like to see re-aimed in your direction—and four months later Bucky tells you little Oz The Great and Powerful, Donald Duck, and Pants McPantsface have been welcomed into the world.

———

“So you’d see him in… Wakanda.” Raynor takes another long breath. If you didn’t think it would make everything worse, you’d tell her to try some deep breathing exercises. “Did the location ever change? Did you witness any more of those murders from before?”

You feel something spark in your chest like an electric wire, and you sit a little taller. You haven’t seen Bucky kill anyone since you’d been trapped in his brain. He’s a good man. And, as far as Raynor knows, a figment of your imagination. She has no right to fucking imply-

“It’s important that I know,” she says slowly, and you think your oddly blinding and righteous anger had been painted all over your face. “So I better understand what’s been happening to you. Please,” she says your name, leaning somehow further forward in her seat. “Answer my questions.”

You nod, letting out a slow exhale. “No murders. But he did start coming into my brain.”

Raynor frowns at you. “Was he not always-“

“Not like this.”

———

“This is new.”

You whip around, taking a stumbling step back that would’ve landed you on the floor, had Bucky not looped his one arm around your waist.

“Hey, doll. Pleasure seeing you-“ He frowns, glancing around your apartment. “Where the hell am I?”

You don’t answer, only reaching up to touch his face. His beard is soft. His hair is softer. When you trace the line of his nose it does feel like a nose, and when you poke his cheek it seems pretty cheek-like-

“What, uh,” Bucky say your name, scanning over your face with concern. “What’s happening here.”

“You’re not supposed to be here.” You whisper, poking his cheek again. Just to be sure. “You’ve never been here before.”

“Yeah, figured that one out myself-“

“No.” You shake your head, placing one hand on his chest. It fits well there, slotting right over muscle and warm skin. Every part of him seems to fit perfectly against you, and you’ve never been this close before, but you don’t have any urge to move away. “You don’t get it, Bucky. You’ve never been here. It’s been ten years, and you’ve never been here.”

“I know, doll. Doesn’t seem like there’s much to-“ He pauses, giving you an odd look. “Ten years?”

“Yeah.” You mumble. There’s not much else to say.

He just stares at you, and shakes his head slightly. “Huh. You gonna tell me where I am?”

“My apartment.”

“Your-“ He starts slightly, but you never shake in his arms. “You live in this place?”

You nod, and he pulls you to your feet, scanning over your home.

The silence wraps around your heart and lungs, and the room is spinning slightly. You’re asleep. You’re pretty fucking sure you’re asleep. You locked the door, turned off the lights, and crawled into bed, so you’re asleep. Bucky’s never been here before, but he’s not really here because this is a dream and he’s not real.

You think.

You wouldn’t bet on that anymore, though.

And nothing has ever been as important as Bucky liking your room, because the longer he just scans over the space around you the more your skin heats, the more your eyes blur, the more your throat constricts and your heart aches and pounds-

“It’s very… you.” He finally says, and every bit of nerve vanishes into the air.

He’s right. You’ve been very deliberate in making sure your home is yours.

And you’re not sure why you bothered worrying at all. He fits here, just as well as he fits in every other part of you.

“Can I get the grand tour?” He raises his brows, and you nod, leading him through your space, making jokes and feeling your heart do a little flip and spin whenever he chuckles.

And things always do change. Frequently out in the real world, and carefully and easily in here.

And at least with Bucky, the change seems adaptive. You grow, he grows with you, until you’re twined and rooted into each other, and every color in this dreamscape is so vivid it’s the only thing that still tells you:

None of this is real.

———

“It was split after that.” You say. ”Half the dreams in Wakanda, half in New York.”

You’re watching Raynor carefully. Still on the edge of her seat, legs braced like she’s ready for a fight, a tight expression on her face that Bucky calls the moose in headlights expression.

———

“You got that moose expression again, doll.”

You frown at him. “Stop calling it that, it’s just my face-“

“No. Your normal face has a dimple here, and your brows rest like that.”

He’s touching you as he explains, moving your features to match his words. You’d smack his hand away if his touch wasn’t soothing and flaring all at once. If you didn’t really love the idea of him looking at you long enough to know exactly how to adjust your face, and how to be right about it.

“But it’s not like that now.” He finishes, giving you a pointed look. “You got moose-face.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Moose-face is worse, Bucky. And it’s still not a real thing-“

“Yeah it is. Most people got a moose face.” He shrugs. He’s staring again. It’s taking a lot of effort not to melt forward into him. “Tight expression. Like a deer in headlights, but they think they’re too good to be in the headlights. They’re gonna go down fighting.”

“Oh.” You tilt your head, giving him a sickly-sweet smile. “Can I see your moose face?”

“I don’t have a moose face-“

“Liar.” You poke his ribs, narrowing your eyes. “You said everyone has one-“

“I said ‘most people.’” Bucky shrugs. “Moose face means you’re gonna get hit, you just don’t believe it yet. I know how to not get hit.”

“Sounds like something someone with a moose-face would say.”

He chuckles. You’re sitting down, and you’re going to fall over. “No luck, doll. I got other faces, but no moose face.” He frowns at the air. “Never could afford to have one.”

There’s suddenly something heavier in his eyes, and it makes your whole body feel wired and heavy. It’s suffocating and crushing and rotten, and it’s just an expression but everything feels worse when you see it—when his shoulders hunch and his face becomes set like stone, just like all those years ago in the bathroom—so it needs to stop right now.

“What about a wolf face?”

Bucky blinks at you. “What.”

“You said no moose face.” You cross your arms, raising your chin slightly. “Do you have a wolf face?”

“I don’t know what that is-“

“So suddenly you’re the only one who’s allowed to make up expressions?”

You hold is gaze for a long second—you’ve gotten really good at doing that, but only when you’re dreaming of Bucky—until his lips twitch slightly.

And everything feels alright again.

———

“How much of New York appeared in your… dreams? Was is like Wakanda, where you wandered?”

You frown at the air. Raynor’s indulging in this, but not like you’d hoped. Not shutting you down or telling you that you’re crazy. You’d really hoped to hear some validation that you were just plain crazy.

“Not really. I mean, there was one night where we were at my job, a few at the coffee shop I usually go to, and maybe like, five at the park, but we were mostly my apartment when I was showing him stuff.”

“And what did you-“ Raynor’s whole body tenses, and the last part of her question is pushed through her teeth. “What did you show Bucky?”

You flush, your gaze dropping down to your hands. “Stuff. In my apartment.”

———

You don’t know exactly what gives. What straw completely desolates every single bone in your body, and ends with you here.

Maybe it was that you’d finally mentioned all the murders, and you’d never seem him look horrified before, but the sight has dislodged something along your ribs that hadn’t mended until he let you move his head to your lap. Stroking his hair as he stared at you, telling him about your day.

Maybe it’s that you always tell him about your day. That this—whatever this is—has shifted from trading teasing comments and trying to learn about each other, into pure and comfortable understanding, and now that’s how most nights are spent.

Bucky’s reports are short. The goats are being goats—that’s all they know how to do—he doesn’t like a song someone tried to make him listen to because it’s too loud, and Shuri brought him some food that made his face feel like it was going to fall off, but in a good way. You pretty sure he only gives them because you insist upon it, but he always puffs out his chest a little at the end, when you smile at him and start to tell him everything you can remember about your own day.

Maybe it’s how he always hangs onto your every word. Like it’s gospel or scripture, and to do anything but listen and watch would be a higher sin than any blood you’ve imagined on his hands.

And maybe that’s it.

Maybe it’s how you really don’t believe it anymore, when you remind yourself that he’s not real. That he’s just a figment of your mind, manifested to evolve as you do and always be exactly what you need.

You still tell yourself the lie, night after night.

But you’re certain it’s a lie. That Bucky is just like that. Meant to be here, with you, the exact same way you’re supposed to be wherever he is.

And now you’re here.

You’d started it. You’d slammed your mouth to his, and he hadn’t moved. There had been a brief moment where you’d been worried you’d made a mistake, but the second you’d tried to push back on his chest and apologize, he’d kicked into gear.

And wet dreams are supposed to be hazy. Cast in a misting light and more of a halo that brings your body high than an actual, nameable feeling.

But you can really feel this.

And it’s heaven.

You’d expected Bucky to kiss slowly. Deliberately. It’s how you’d always seen him move and speak, and you hadn’t been against the idea of being kissed in a methodical and careful way.

You’ve never been happier to be wrong.

Bucky kisses you like you’re air and water and every good thing in the world. All passion and spit and burning desire, where you can feel every bit of want in his movements. His mouth is demanding as he traces his tongue over your teeth and groans your name down your throat, his arm snaking around your waist to hold you steady against his chest. When his knee presses between your thighs you have to wrap your arms around his neck for balance, and it’s all you can do to return ever bit of want he throws at you as he walks to backwards to your mattress.

It takes effort to pry your mouth from Bucky’s. He doesn’t want you to go, even a few inches, and when you start to palm him through his pants—smiling against his lips and squeezing his bulge in a silent request—he hisses against your lips.

“You-“ He groans, nipping at your lower lip as you smile, repeating the movement. “You don’t- Shit, doll, you don’t know what you’re doing to me-“

You hum, bumping your nose with his and swaying in his hold. “Maybe. I’d like to do more.”

Bucky chuckles, and the sound rolls right into your core. “Think you could take more, sweetheart? Cause I’ve been a gentleman, but if more is on the table-“

It’s easy to cut him off with a heavy, deep kiss that has him half growling down your throat and his hips jerking against your movements.

“Want more.” You whisper, combing your free hand through his hair and trying to pull yourself impossibly closer. “Want you.”

Bucky tenses against you, and when you lean back to meet his eyes he’s staring again. Looking at you like you’re glowing, kneading your skin under his hand like he’s checking that you’re not going to vanish.

“You want me.” He mutters, scanning over your flushed face. “You sure about-“

“Yes.” You nod, giving him a small, soft smile. “Only if you do, obviou-“

Bucky cuts you off with another bruising kiss, and before you know what’s happening he’s lowering you onto the mattress, kneeling between your legs, and shoving your thighs apart with a wolf-like grin.

You don’t know when you ended up naked. You can’t really care though, because Bucky shoves his face right into your pussy, and your mind empties of all thoughts that aren’t his name.

It’s another point in favor of this being a dream. Bucky’s mouth against your cunt feels so amazingly real—licking and biting and eating you out like he’s been starved for a hundred years—but this has to be a dream, because no real man has ever made you feel this good. He knows every single way the plunge his tongue in and out of your pussy until you’re squeezing your thighs around his head and tugging at his hair, and his beard scrapes and tickles at your thighs in a way that’s driving you out of your mind, and fuck, he keeps moving his attention to nip at your clit, sucking it between his lips and letting his teeth graze against you, and-

“Bucky-“ You moan, grinding shameless into his face, trying hopelessly to remain upright with one hand, your fingers fisted into the sheets below you. “Please- I’m gonna- Fuck, I’m so close-“

He growls against you, flatting his tongue against your clit and squeezing his hand on your thigh, and that does it. You cum with a scream of his name, warmth washing over your body as your knees clamp around him and your eyes roll back in your head.

He’s ruined you. All Bucky did was eat you out in a dream, and you’re panting and flushed and drunk on him. You don’t know how you’ll manage to move on from this in real life.

You don’t really care. Not as Bucky runs his hand over your dripping, fluttering cunt with a look of open awe on his face, presses a kiss right over your clit that makes your hips jerk, and moves to his feet.

He’s naked now too.

And he’s perfect.

His cock is big and thick, standing at proud attention and jerking slightly as you run a hand up his thighs, your fingers trailing over his balls and a little drool falling out of your lips as you lean to take him in your mouth-

Bucky’s hand tangles in your hair, pulling you back to meet his eyes.

He looks just as wrecked as you feel. Chest heaving and eyes blown with lust. You’re going to lose your mind.

“Bucky-“

“Not now.” He mutters, pulling you a little further back. “Need to be inside of you, doll. Please.”

You’d have to be insane to say no.

You crawl back on the mattress, spreading your legs in silence invitation, and something hot and powerful flashes in his eyes as he takes you in.

“You-“

“I’m sure.” You squirm in the sheets, running your hand between your legs and starting to rub your clit in slow, strong circles. “God, I’m so fucking sure, please-“

He’s shockingly fast for such a large man. It might be the whole dream thing, but you barely register him moving to kneel over you, swatting your hand away with a darkened gaze a set jaw.

“I do that,” he grunts, running two fingers up and down your cunt, smirking at you high whine. “Legs open, doll, want to see how wet I’m making you.”

You nod, falling flat on your back, and pour all your focus into his order. “Fuck, Bucky-“ He shoves the fingers into your pussy, and your back arches off the bed. “Shit- I- Please-“

“You want my cock?” He drawls your name, and you can only nod dumbly at the ceiling. “Come on, tell me you want it-“

“Want it,” you gasp, hugging your body as he starts to pump his finger, crooking them at the exact right spot deep inside of you. “Fuck, Bucky, you said- You said you’d fuck me-“

He clicks his tongue. “I said I’d be inside of you-“

“But- But I want you to fuck me.” You start to roll your hips as his pace picks up. “Please, Bucky-“

You whine as his fingers vanish, leaving you clenching around only the air, but it’s a short-lived pain.

Bucky slams into you with one thrust, and you’d been wrong again.

He hadn’t ruined you. He’s destroyed you.

You’ve never been so full in your life. You’ve never been fucked like this in your life. With a fervor that should be painful, but just makes you feel wanted. Cared for. Bucky’s every thrust is brutal and rough, and his mouth on yours is that same feral kiss from before, but he’s pressed his body over yours like he’s trying to shield you from the world, and he’s groaning your name down your throat like it’s a hymn.

You’d say his name too, if you could remember how to speak. But Bucky’s hitting every right spot deep in your pussy, and you’re so high the world is just color and light and Bucky, and when he starts to suck and kiss a line down your throat, along your collarbone, and over your tits, you’re sure you’re going to fly out of your skin.

Then he takes your nipple into his mouth, and the sound you make is almost inhuman. Your release crashes over you like a wave, Bucky groans against your breast as you squeeze around his cock, and a burning warmth coats your thighs and cunt as he cums with a roar.

You make a small noise of content as Bucky pulls out, kissing a soft line back up your jaw before dropping his brow to yours and letting out a long, slow breath.

“That was…” He trails off, moving his hand to hold your hips, drawing firm patterns with his thumb that might drive you out of your mind.

“Yeah.” You whisper. “It was.”

He nods, and neither of you move for a really long time. Usually you’ve woken up by now, but no part of you is eager to go, eager to leave where there’s still a little buzz in your heart from the pleasure, where you can feel a perfect ache between your legs and you’re so happily trapped under the warmth of Bucky’s body-

Happy.

You’re happy.

This isn’t real, but under Bucky’s body you’re safe and warm and happy. And you don’t want to go.

Almost as if he can read your mind, Bucky clears his throat.

“Thank you.” He mutters, his breath hot and soft over your ear. “Needed this.” There a long pause, and his hand squeezes on your hips. “Needed you. And I know it’s dumb to thank you, because-“

“It’s not.” You cut him off with a kiss to his neck, rubbing your hand up and down his back. “And I needed you too.”

He lets out a dry laugh that you don’t understand, but doesn’t push on it. Just kisses your brow and rolls onto his back, taking you with him and clinging to you like you’re a tether to something a little more important than just a dream.

And you really don’t know why he’d laughed.

You do need him. You’re growing more and more certain every night that you need Bucky more than you need anything in real life. That he’s more than anyone else, and that he maybe, possibly, could be real.

He feels real, beneath you with a calloused hand squeezing at your skin and your finger tracing over the scars near his arm.

He sounds real, when you finally ask why he only has one arm, and he takes a very long breath but mutters that he fell off a train. When he tells you that bad people found him, and he wasn’t really the best guy either, for a really long time.

He tastes real when you kiss him for comfort, and smells real when you bury your face in his neck as he continues.

You know he’s not telling you everything, but you also know he’s not lying.

And you really do know that, in some strange and impossible way, this might be real.

———

“I see.” Raynor swallows, and she won’t stop staring at you. “Did those, ah, occurrences happen again?”

You nod, staring at your hands. “Pretty much every time after.” A smile tugs at your lips. “One time we used the barn.”

“I-“ Raynor sighs. “Understood. How long, exactly, did this continue?”

“They never stopped, not until-“ Your nails dig into your skin, and a heavy stone lodges itself in your throat. “The, uh, the blip.”

———

These have been the worst five years of your life. And they haven’t been amazing for anyone, but no one else has to feel this like you do.

And that’s selfish. A little narcissistic. Incredibly crude.

But it doesn’t make it any less true.

Because everyone lost people. Everyone watched loved ones vanish right in front of them, witnessed the world fall and crumble around them as half of humanity vanished, and got left in the rubble to pick up the pieces.

But no one else seems to feel this. Nobody else seems to be falling apart at the seams from nothing at all like you are. Because Bucky was probably never real. But he’s gone.

And you don’t know how to move on.

It’s odd to grieve a dream. It makes living impossible. You go to all the support groups and listen to everyone share their own pain, and it makes your heart ache for them but nothing in you ever seems to heal. It’s as if a piece of you had been ripped out and ground to ash, and mending over it would be blasphemous. You don’t want to fix it. You need to, because this is no way to exist, but it feels wrong every time you try. As if even your body can’t just admit he’s gone, and you need to keep going. But everything feels artificial. Every breath is mechanical, and every beat of your heart feels shallow and deliberate, like it’s only doing just enough to keep you alive.

What’s worse is that you can’t tell anyone why you’ve become a sunken, hollow shell. You’d sound insane. You’re already not winning any points in the sound of mind department, and you do have a record, so if you went to one of the countless therapists who have been making their living off of everyone’s loss and said ‘see, doctor, the person I loved only existed in my dreams, but he vanished with the snap and now it feels like I’ve been cleaved in half’, you’d be locked up in an asylum.

You hate that you’re only realizing it now. That the overwhelming sense of warmth and peace you felt in your dreams with Bucky was love. That you’d fallen in love with a piece of your own mind. You’d basically fallen in love with your reflection. Your annoying, handsome, grumpy reflection that you’d rip your spine out of your body to reshape it back into his form, to bring him back to your side.

And the dreams still happen. He’s just not there, and it’s the worst thing in the fucking universe. You keep coming back to a forest, and there’s a little ash that’s always drifting around in the air, that feels really important.

It all always feels like more than just Bucky being gone. It feels like you’ve missed a train, or taken a wrong turn, and lost a key that double as a compass, and now you’re stranded at the bottom of the ocean.

Alone.

You’ve spent your whole life with only yourself to rely on, but you’ve never felt more alone.

———

“And after the blip?”

“He came back.” You’re going to cry. You really hate crying in front of Raynor—she always tells you it’s going to be okay, and you fucking know that—but you can’t stop it. Because Bucky really did come back, and it’s still the best thing that ever happened to you.

———

During the past five years, your sleep has gotten fucked. You get about four hours a night, because that’s just long enough to keep you functional but too short to allow you to appear in the forest.

So it took a while to pass out. You’d curled up in your bed, drank tea, done yoga, followed every ‘how to fall asleep fast’ internet guide until your eyes drooped, and you were gone.

When the dream takes shape around you, you’re not in the forest, but in a sleek, hospital-like room that you don’t recognize.

And he’s there.

Bucky’s right fucking there.

You make a small, choked sound, and his eyes shoot to yours in an instant.

He’s moving in a second. Half launching across the room to grab you before your knees give out, holding you to his chest as you cling to his shirt and press your face into his neck.

“Hey,” he mutters your name, and you can hear the low horror in it. He’s putting together why you’re crying. Why you’re scratching at his neck and trying to half climb up his body. “You’re alright. It’s all good, doll, everything’s good now-“

You cut him off with a long, heavy kiss, and his hand moves to cup your head.

He has two hands again. You don’t really care why.

Because Bucky’s rubbing circles on the skin of your waist, and letting you cry without making a big fucking deal about it, and nothing mended. Nothing’s ever mended. You’ve been a little fucking broken for a long time, with or without Bucky. But it had been a kind of broken that had folded and shaped with him, and when he’d been gone it was like half your organs had been frozen and crumbled in your body.

But he’s back. And you feel real again.

———

There’s a long silence in the air, and you know what’s coming. The question. You’ve known she’s going to ask it the whole time—you’d honestly expected it a lot sooner—and you’ve been prepared. You have a very long speech about how Bucky had changed again—short hair, kept the new arm, appearing in his own, mostly empty apartment and trading the Wakandan clothing for jeans and jackets—and that he’d told you how much he hated some guy named John.

He’d said he despised the asshole. That he was everything Steve had hated—you’d had a pretty good idea who Steve was, based on context and a theory but you hadn’t be quite ready to it yet—and nothing sounded better than punching his lights out.

And you’re ready to explain that you’d had the news on in the background, a few words had broken from static background noise, and your whole world had shifted. John Walker had been announced as the new Captain America, they’d run a stupid little fluff piece on the life of Steve Rogers, and there was Bucky. Captain America’s best friend and ally, the assumed cause of that whole the Avengers are breaking up thing, and the former Winter Solider.

You’d mostly stared at the screen for a really long time as everything feel into place—you’d looked him up after, and it was a little embarrassing it had taken you this long given that he has a Wikipedia page—before calling Raynor, and preparing for the question.

But when she asks it, your mind goes blank, and all you can’t think to say is the truth.

“May I ask,” Raynor says carefully. ”Why are you only discussing this now?”

“Because he’s real.”

———

Bucky has dreams. Not nightmares.

Dreams.

He dreams about Her. She’s the only constant in his life, the only solace and purely good thing he knows, and She’s not even damn real.

Bucky’s pretty sure She’s not real. It wouldn’t make any sense for Her to be real. He’d spent most of the years assuming that She was simply a result of him being able to dream again, a trick of his mind that was both a comfort and a torture, because he needed those dreams—needed Her, in a strange way that lived in his chest and was soft on his skin—more than he’d ever needed anything, but they also reminded him of what he’d never have.

A life in a simple apartment, filled with his own presence in a way that was easy. He always loved that about Her apartment. How everywhere he looked, She was there. The colors and furniture and posters and trinkets on the shelves all screamed Her, and no one could ever replicate that if they tried.

He didn’t know how to do that anywhere. How to just be him in a way that didn’t feel like something was strangling him. His apartment was barren. Every time he spoke it felt like he should be apologize immediately after, because barely anyone seemed to like him, let alone want to hear him.

Bucky understood that. He wasn’t exactly his own biggest fan, and the only time there was no part of him trying to escape his own body was when he was asleep, and She was at his side.

He liked being himself with Her. It was simple, and natural, and never a labor. She never flinched away from him—She seemed to like being close to him—and Bucky never really wanted to wake up. Part of him always hoped that this time, when he fell asleep and She appeared once more, he’d wake up in Her apartment, and it would all be real.

A very small part of him needed this—needed Her—to be real. It would be really amazing if She was real. It wasn’t something he deserved to ask for, to plead with the universe about, but he did. He kept trying to come up with reasons She could be real.

She felt real, in his dreams. She spoke and acted like a person, and not a doll or shell his brain may have created to get him through his de-programming. She was always saying things and making references he didn’t get until she explained them, things he was certain he hadn’t heard in passing. She was way prettier than anyone Bucky had ever seen, which would contribute to Her being only a dream if he wasn’t so certain that he simply wasn’t that creative.

He could imagine a pretty girl.

He couldn’t imagine Her.

Smart and funny and gorgeous, fitting against him like She’d been molded to, teasing him in ways he’d never thought of and kind to him ways he couldn’t be kind to himself.

She was never disgusted by the arm, and Bucky was sure that—if She was only a part of his mind given shape—she would know about the whole Winter Soldier thing. But he’d had to explain all he could to Her, and when he’d left certain, darker parts out She hadn’t said but that’s not the truth, is it, James.

She seemed to like Bucky. That was the most concrete proof he had that She had to somehow be real. Nobody liked him. Not in to raw, unrelenting way She did.

So She had to be real.

Bucky really hoped, against all odds, that she was real.

It would fix a lot of problems if She was real. Sam kept trying to get him to date, and he didn’t want to. He always felt like he was betraying Her. It wasn’t sustainable or logical, but logic didn’t really matter here, because Bucky’s gut would wither and his hands would curl into fists every time he had to try and flirt with another woman. They didn’t fit against him as well as She did. Their teasing would either bite too hard or not bite at all, and the night would end with Bucky falling back into Her arms.

He asked Shuri—very vaguely, he didn’t want his brain to be poked and prodded again—what reoccurring dreams could mean.

“Reoccurring?” She’d frowned at him over the video call. “You’ll have to clarify, reoccurring can mean many things.”

“Uh,” Bucky had swallowed, glancing at his mattress across the room. “A dream you have every night. And it could change, but it’s always the same person in it?”

Shuri had given him an odd look. “Have you been having a dream like that?”

“No.” His answer had been too fast. He needed to keep it together if he was going to sell this. “Sam has. He mentioned that he kept seeing some lady in his dreams, and she felt real but he’d never met her before. Thought I’d do him a favor and ask about it.”

It wasn’t the best lie he’d ever told, if Shuri look of doubt had been any indication. But she bit, and kept moving.

“Well, it looks as if Sam,” she’d given him a pointed look, and Bucky had forced his face to remain completely neutral. “Has found his soulmate.”

Bucky had stared at her for a really long time. His vision had blurred, there had been a ringing in his ears, and time had seemed to still as Shuri’s words sank in.

Soulmate.

“I thought, uh,” Bucky had cleared his throat, his voice a little hoarse. “Soulmates aren’t real-“

“Of course they’re real.” Shuri had shrugged. “Soulmate is an archaic term for two brains that emit the exact same neuroelectricity, their nerve paths aligning completely. Often they will have differing personalities and lives, but the tie of the biology will link them in sleep, and they will experience incredibly vivid lucid dreams. Like this video conference, but if our minds and bodies were built to fall in love with each other. It is rare, but not impossible.”

Bucky had frowned. “But I- uh, Sam said he’s only had these dreams about four years-“

“Sam’s brain underwent severe rewiring and torment.” Shuri’s voice had been dry, her expression flat. “He would do well to remember that his connection may have been slightly mauled, and only after a certain genius princess fixed him would he have been able to reciprocate the bond fully.”

Oh.

The first time Bucky had appeared in Her apartment, She had said ten years. When She’d appeared to him for the very first time, She’d said she’d dreamt of him before.

Bucky had assumed that had been another way his brain was comforting him. Telling him he could be the type of person a pretty girl like Her dreamed about.

But when he thought about it—clenched his jaw and drew up the heavier, blood-stained memories of the Soldier—there had sometimes been someone in his body with him. Not the Soldier, but the third presence that wasn’t hostile. Wasn’t really foreign. Just was.

“Could the-“ Bucky had swallowed, watching Shuri carefully as he spoke. “Sam said he could sometimes feel the gal while he was awake. Is that a thing that could happen?”

“If Sam was not himself, and the soulmate was not of full maturity, yes.”

Bucky had felt himself pale. “What do you mean, full maturity-“

“You are a hundred years old, Mr. Barnes.” Shuri had raised her brows, and all pretense of Sam had dropped. “There would have naturally been a point where your soulmate was a child, as that is how most people begin their lives. It is likely that you were still under the control of Hydra in your soulmate’s youth, and she would have only been a growing presence in your mind until she was a full person, and you were no longer only the shell of a man I met after my father’s death.”

“So she- Would she have seen what I did? As the Solider?”

He knew She had. She’d told him She had.

Bucky still didn’t want it to be true.

Shuri had given him a sympathetic look. “Unfortunately, yes. She would have. But if she is what you say, she is a perfect match to you in every way. She will not care what you were before, under the control of Hydra.”

“But-“

“It is not something worth protesting, Bucky.” Shuri had sighed, leaning a little closer to the camera. “This is not something that can be severed or changed, so please do not bother to ask. And remember that she is real. Her own person, with her own pain. I would recommend you attempt to find her, but that is something you will have to decide for yourself.”

And now he was here. Staring at the dark screen where Shuri’s face had been moments before, his head still spinning around the word.

Soulmate.

She’d made is sound scientific. Possible. Bucky could have a soulmate.

He didn’t deserve a soulmate. Not one he’d likely trapped in his mind, forced to witness the brutal atrocities he’d committed as the Winter Solider.

And he wanted to find Her. Bucky wanted to touch Her and kiss her and keep her longer than just the night. To wake up and see Her next to him, tangible and all his.

He’d liked the idea of something being his in a way that wasn’t a curse. In a way he could throw his all right back to Her, and she’d catch it.

But there was still the sour, molding feeling over his heart that—since She was real, and probably had Her own issues to deal with—She wouldn’t want him in her life. Not Her real life, where everything was more complicate than just them in a literal dream.

He shouldn’t find Her. She’d be better off without him. Bucky would do nothing but make Her life more complicated, and he could get through this know that She was real and safe, far away from him but still haunting his dreams in the best way possible.

He was so lost in his head he misses the first phone call. And the second one.

It was the third one that got his attention—buzzing and ringing on the table next to his computer, Dr. Raynor flashing across the screen—and the fourth one he actually managed to pick up.

Bucky didn’t bother to hide the tension in his voice when he spoke. He really didn’t have the time or energy for this, not right now. “Doc, I’m not due back for another four days-“

“I’m aware, James, I keep a calendar.” Raynor sighed through the speaker, and Bucky had never heard her sound so tense. It was a little concerning. “However, I am going to have to request you come in today. It’s an emergency.”

He scowled. “What emergency, I haven’t done anything emergency worthy-“

“It’s not only about you.” Raynor snapped. “And I’m changing it from a request to an order. Office in twenty minutes.” There was a long pause, and then a whispered, “Please.”

That wasn’t good.

“Did I get in trouble?” Bucky asked, his grip on the phone tightening. “Cause I’ve been following all the stupid rules, and if Sam says I did something he’s just being a dramatic dick-“

Raynor sighed, and Bucky could picture the thin look of exhaustion on her face. “You are not in trouble, James. It’s not- I can’t explain over the phone. It may be better for you to see.”

“See what?”

“Just come to the fucking office.”

Bucky blinked, and the line went dead.

Raynor couldn’t make him go. But he also had never heard her swear like that. Or order him to come in before an appointment.

He was a little curious. And it wasn’t like he had anything else to do today but drown in the knowledge of what Shuri had told him, trying to work out how he’d face Her tonight.

So he went to the office. Chances are it was nothing. Bucky couldn’t imagine it would be something. He spent the whole ride trying to think of an idea, came up blank, and decided that Sam had mentioned something to Raynor about how Bucky had been brooding more than usual, and he was just going to have to explain the whole I’m not brooding, I’m just sick of Sam’s blind date bullshit and also maybe have a soulmate thing. Then he’s kick Sam’s ass, and everything would be fine.

Bucky entered to office with a whole speech ready. His chin raised high and his arms crossed, because he was already having a very weird and complex day, and he didn’t need this.

All the words were knocked out of him the moment he opened the door, glanced around the room, and saw who was on the couch.

Her.

In person.

Very, very real, and in Raynor’s office, and here.

Raynor said Her name. The name Bucky knew Her by, and her last name.

It was a nice last name. Barnes would suit Her better, but the idea that she was real enough to have a last name was already bringing Bucky to his knees, so he’d have to save that thought for later.

“Meet James Barnes.” Raynor was probably looking between them. Bucky couldn’t be sure though, because he couldn’t stop staring at Her.

She was moving to Her feet, and seeing Her in person was somehow even better. She was sharper around the edges, and more colorful in small, bright ways, and nothing about Her felt like it could ever slip between Bucky’s fingers.

She wasn’t mist. She wasn’t an illusion, or a coping mechanism.

She was real.

Walking towards him with wide eyes and an open mouth, reaching a hand up to poke at his face. Tracing his nose and running fingers over his cheekbones, Her eyes never leaving his.

Bucky caught Her hand right as it brushed over his lips, and She made the prettiest gasp he’d ever heard.

“You’re real.” He said, because it was all he could think of. Nothing about this was a dream. Bucky would not have a dream where Raynor was watching him restrain himself from kissing Her until she collapsed in his arms.

“I’m real.” She whispered, and Her voice was better in real life too. “You’re here.”

He nodded. “I’m here.” He paused, scanning over Her open features. “Don’t think I’m going anywhere, doll.”

Her face split into a wide smile, all teeth and light and joy. For Bucky.

There was adoration on Her face, and it was all for Bucky.

“Good.” Her smile grew, Her fingers tangling with his metal ones. “Because I’m not either.”

End Note: Save me Bucky Barnes raising goats. Bucky Barnes raising goats, save me.

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@foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr @Youdontknowe @panicking-outside-the-disco

@Ambiguous-avery @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007 @ilovedeanwinchester4 @tiana-kh

@woaheasytig3r @winchester-whiskey @jsudsgf @deans-yn @jofinka

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austinsten · 1 day ago

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I do not think that would be your fate.

What I always wanted for you was to be fearless and bold like we both know you are. You are very strong and brave. Thats who you are and you shouldn't be afraid to show it. You shouldnt take anymore shit and you shouldnt give yourself to anyone that doesnt love you like you deserve. Even if you have to do it to me. In fact you especially have to do it with me. shut me out, threaten me, hate me. Fine, so be it. As long as you're standing up for yourself when you're right and taking accountability when you're wrong. If I can't have you at least maybe i can help you and someday you can find a guy who will treat you how I always should have and actually be ready to keep him. Is that weird? Idk you're the girl I've always loved so much I just want you to be happy. I feel like you never believed i loved you or thought you were the most beautiful woman id ever seen. You should be with someone who makes you believe those things. I know you also carry the same sadness and unbearable anxiety from childhood trauma. I know i broke your trust When I yelled. I pushed you away when you couldnt talk to me. That is my own trauma and was never your fault. Its still no excuse and I can't save face. i should have learned your love language a lot sooner. I know you just wanted to be held and kissed like there was only us. I lost myself feeling so alone and just CRAZY because I wanted you to fight for us with me, I wanted to hear every thought and desire you hadn't shared so BAD i just wanted to reach you and help you. I just wanted to do it for real without playing any games, without manipulation. It was so hard to find a middle ground between being loving and being firm to not feel walked on. I laughed when you were mad because it was the only time I saw you truly express yourself and i just loved you so much I couldn't contain it. It made me so happy just to hear what was on your mind. I never asked you how your day was enough, i never kissed you like i should have. It was never just about sex for me, i was nuts about you from the start. i was truly your love fool for so, so long. But i also knew you kept secrets between us and i pushed you way too hard about it, i understand there was overlap. Its hard to settle on a feeling about it because you also would not have put yourself in that situation again, much less so many times after, if you weren't seeking attention and you did actually regret it. I know you were broken and in the dark. But I've also accepted if I'd shown you the love you deserved you may never have sought it elsewhere. If things were good between us youd have never been with them. If we could just stop being so stubborn and be vulnerable enough to actually speak what were so afraid to. Its just sucks! Its so painful when we didnt even do this to each other were just fucked up from our childhood and cant stop hurting each other! Even knowing that. Sigh, i never wanted to make you feel small or unheard i was just so afraid to lose you! I never hated you I was just heartbroken. I wanted to stay forever, but we couldn't talk to each other. I just wanted the truth not more manipulation. I wanted to hear i was your love and the only man you wanted. Sigh. I never wanted to silence you or talk over you. Quite the opposite. I wanted you to speak up. I loved you in ways you may never understand and it's my own fault.

- What do you fear, my lady? - A cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them and all chance of valor has gone beyond recall or desire. The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers (2002)

#therapy #i would have gone with you to the end #into the very fires of mordor

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mochacoda · 2 days ago

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[teaser] python | csc

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x GN!Reader

Synopsis: When you broke up with your boyfriend to work in a different country, you didn't expect to see him ever again. But when you transfer to your company's Seoul branch four years later, the department head is your ex, and he’s made it his objective to make your life a living hell for leaving him all those years ago.

Content: Angst, Fluff, Comfort | Exes to Lovers | Office AU

Tags: emotions, miscommunication, heartache, workaholic!seungcheol, insecure reader, drinking, a lot of crying, begging, konglish w/ translations, no "y/n," this is for everyone who voted for cheol in the poll, loosely connected to too nice (joshua)

Word Count: 8K (est. full)

Release Date: February 14

Masterlist

“I hate him,” you seethe, your fists balled up, crumpling your rejected proposal. “God, I hate him.”

Your coworker, Joshua Hong, looks up from his cubicle with raised eyebrows. “Who?”

You breathe in deeply, willing your rage to dissipate at the sight of his confusion. Poor Joshua doesn’t deserve your anger. “No one,” you say, clenching your jaw.

Open-mouthed, Joshua blinks rapidly, eyes flitting over to glance at the office you had just walked out of. The door to the room is marked with a name plate that has 최승철 [Choi Seungcheol] in bold, gold letters.

“I’m fine,” you insist, hands uncrumpling the document you had just attacked.

“Uh, okay?” he says with a healthy dose of doubt, elongating the “o” in “okay.”

“I just—” you begin, then immediately shut your mouth. “Ugh, forget it.”

It’s one thing to crumple a proposal up, and another thing to start bad-mouthing your boss out in the open. You throw the tattered outline onto your desk, then plop yourself into your chair. You rub your temples, and then mutter under your breath, “How did I get here?”

“Good question,” Joshua laughs. “Company synergy?”

You groan, “Don’t ever say that word again in my presence.”

“Mmh,” he says, walking over to your cubicle. “You won’t have to worry about my presence in a few months.”

“Don’t remind me,” you sigh, dropping your head in your hands.

Joshua would be leaving the Seoul branch and transferring to the New York branch in a few weeks.

Curse your company for its commitment to “workplace synergy,” swapping out a handful of employees across all departments in its international branches every few years. If it hadn’t been for this horrible program, you wouldn’t be here right now.

You want to rip out your own hair, at this point.

How did it even get to this? You shut your eyes, thinking back to simpler times.

When you first got a job offer at the New York branch of your dream company, your initial reaction was elation. Your second? Doubt. Leaving Seoul was almost unthinkable, not to mention the fact that you’d be leaving your boyfriend behind, too.

For the first few days after hearing back from the recruiter, you knew you’d accept, but kept the news to yourself. You’d heard of so many horror stories about long-distance dating, and after a long period of consideration, you wondered what the point was.

You knew your boyfriend—really knew him. You knew he’d make sacrifices for you at the expense of himself, and it was impossible for you to accept bogging him down with a 14 hour time difference. He’d stay up waiting for your calls, instead of getting much needed rest. He’d worry about you all the time, checking the weather in Manhattan instead of Seoul and calling you constantly instead of his family and friends. He’d wait on you for as long as you needed, in an almost obsessive way, thinking it could make up the difference in distance. But he deserved someone who could love him in person, all of the time.

It’d be better for Seungcheol if you just let him go, freeing him to focus on what mattered more to him. Like work.

He loved you too much to break things off with you himself, so it was better that you did it. For his own good.

That’s what you told him, at least.

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“Cheol,” you said, teary-eyed. “Cheol, look at me.”

Seungcheol stared blankly at the ground, face frozen.

“Please?” your voice cracked.

“Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t handle?” he suddenly choked out, eyes flashing with hurt. His hands clenched, like he was holding himself back from saying more.

You swallowed thickly, reaching for his arm. “Cheol, I—”

“Don’t call me that,” he said, snatching his hand away from you.

────୨ৎ──── Present

But you had swallowed the real reasons for the breakup.

Because, deep down, you had always suspected otherwise. Somehow, everything had just become so complicated. Loving Seungcheol—which had once been something as easy as breathing—had become a dull pain in your chest, clouding your every thought with insecurities.

Even from the start of the relationship, you’d loved him more, anyway. Back then, you didn’t mind it because you loved him so much, and he was always so, so sweet to you. But around the time of the job offer, paranoia had reared its ugly head, kicking your uncertain thoughts into overdrive.

It was obvious that he didn’t really love you anymore. While you were job seeking, he was distracted. Always checking his phone, not really listening to what you had to say. He made time for you, but he didn’t necessarily make you feel like he loved you as deeply as you did him—it didn’t feel like he was the same guy that you started dating.

Something about his actions just felt like he did them to claim that he loved you, rather than because he actually loved you. His actions were laced with a kind of surface level, superficial quality.

He’d take you out to a fancy dinner, open the door for you, pay for the meal, drive you home—all the gentlemanly things he did when you started dating, too. But on the car ride there and back, and while sitting down eating together, he wouldn’t remember the things you had said about the little things happening in your life—a major change, when compared to the start of your relationship.

And sure, he didn’t have an obligation to remember your next door neighbor's name. But shouldn’t he remember your favorite kind of pie, or your closest cousin’s name? Shouldn’t he just know not to check his phone every time it pings with a new email, or leave you to eat your stupid expensive pasta alone as he takes a call outside?

It was almost like Seungcheol had fallen out of love with you, but was staying with you out of some kind of obligation to continue what he had started? That was your only explanation for why he’d spend time with you, but wouldn’t pay close attention to the things you said. Every Thursday was movie night, and in hopes of trying to keep him away from work, you let him choose the movie every time. But what use was that, when he spent more time looking at his phone than the TV—and more importantly, you, for that matter?

You’d been dating a ghost of a man. While you loved him, he tolerated you.

If the two of you stayed together when you went abroad, he’d probably double down on texts, but he wouldn’t really remember anything you’d said if you mentioned details about them in calls.

You didn’t bring any of these fears up to him, because you knew that he would continue to deny it. In fact, you’d imagined it in your head so much that you could see it when closing your eyes to sleep. If you confronted him, he’d deny that he didn’t love you anymore. But he’d be staring at the ground instead of looking at you. He wouldn’t admit that he was only with you because he enjoyed the consistency of your affection, and because he somewhat pitied you—and most importantly to him, because he wanted to prove to himself that he chose correctly when he started dating you.

The pain of watching the love of your life push down his repulsion just to be with you was decidedly more horrifying than the pain of breaking up with him altogether.

Right before breaking up with him, it had occurred to you that Seungcheol might not have ever loved you in the first place, and that just hammered in the idea that you were making the right decision. He’d get over the breakup fast. He’d probably be thankful for it in a few years, even. If you saw him again, you’d both probably laugh, and in his head, he’d realize that he was grateful that you ended things so that he could focus on his real love, his career.

If you were honest with yourself, you would admit that there was a bit of selfishness driving the breakup, as well. There was no way you could handle Seungcheol sacrificing things for you—if he lost sleep over you, if he worried about you, if he was distracted by you—because you knew he wouldn’t be doing it for love.

Because he only ever cared out of a superficial need to prove to himself that he made the right decision in asking you out all those years ago. Not because he really loved you.

Yes, he probably never loved you, and he would never know the real reason why you ended things.

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“You give up so easily,” he spat out. “Was I nothing to you?”

Tears were running down your face. “Don’t. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Seungcheol laughed, then buried his head in his hands. “God, to think I almost—”

He stopped, jaw tightening, then shook his head like he couldn’t believe it.

────୨ৎ──── Present

A hand comes down sharply on your desk, jolting you awake.

“Sleeping while on duty?”

Wide-eyed, with tear-stained cheeks, you look up to face your ex-boyfriend. “부장님! [Department Head!]”

Upon seeing your red-rimmed eyes, Seungcheol falters.

Swiping at your under eyes quickly, you bow your head to him slightly. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

He swallows roughly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to ask you why you were crying, and your heart drops.

You will crumble if you hear the tone of voice he had used when you broke up with him.

“Excuse me,” you blurt with choked words.

You don’t dare to look at his eyes. Instead, you get up from your seat, then immediately flee to the bathroom.

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“You can focus on work, now,” you squeaked out.

Seungcheol scoffed again, a cruel sound of disbelief. “What makes you think I give a damn about work right now?”

“Don’t you? Always?” you sniffled.

His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite describe. He seemed angry, but not just at you. At himself, too—his hands were balled into fists at his sides, fingernails digging sharply into his palms. His throat bobbed, and you could see the intense restraint he was forcing on himself. He opened his mouth with a sharp breath, then closed it again, as if he wanted to say something but stopped himself.

Masterlist

Author’s Note: get ready for a rollercoaster

Disclaimer: nothing i write is representative of how svt acts off camera, take their names as stand-ins for oc’s!!

Taglist: @syluslittlecrows - @junplusone - @fragmentof-indifference - @junniesoleilkth - @woncheecks - @peachypie97 - @viciousdarlings - @11zzyy

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topluvr · 1 day ago

Note

HIII I LOVE YOUR WRITING!!! can i request a jiyong enemies to lovers?? doesn’t matter if its headcannons or not!

Drunken Confessions

Kwon ji-yong x Reader

A/N: I feel like this is more frenimes to lovers so I'm sorry, but thank you for the request. Also reader is daesung's younger sister.

warnings: alcohol use

word count: 2.3k

Your eyes slowly shift open, the sunlight from the window shining through into your bedroom, the brightness caused you to squint your eyes shut. Once you adjusted to the light you got out of bed and started your daily routine.

You’ve been living in your new apartment for a couple months now, after finally moving out of your parents home you moved into a smallish apartment in seoul.

Your brother ‘Daesung’ made sure you had everything you needed. He helped you with unpacking, building your furniture and helping you decorate, his friends helped out sometimes too, well except for one. ‘jiyong’. For some reason he hated you.

You did grow up with his friends around, you were all close they always protected you, it was like having three extra older brothers. expect for jiyong, at first he was sweet to you always making sure you were okay and checking up with you occasionally.

However when you grew up and things changed, his mood and attitude towards you were replaced with more hateful ones, you had no idea why he was like this.

At first you thought he was just going through a lot but when it turned into years and his hatred towards you didn’t change, you started to feel the same way about him, Well kind of you've been crushing on him since the first time you met but pushed them aside for many reasons. The two main ones being your brother daesung would never let it happen and jiyong obviously didn’t feel the same way.

The two of you having at least one argument every time you go visit your brother, surprisingly you loved it, you loved when his eyes burn daggers at you when you tease him, you loved the way his voice slightly raised every time you annoy him. He treats you like shit but this only made you crave his attention more.

Once you were dressed, you headed towards your local coffee shop and ordered your daily coffee, you also got the guys their orders to surprise them with, before heading to YG.

When you arrived at the building the staff immediately recognised you and you were let straight in, you walked into the elevator and pressed the second floor button. The doors slid open and you stepped out into the long hallway heading towards the room your brother and his friends were usually in when they were working.

Your hand knocks against the door giving it two light taps. You hear a voice say come in so you twist the handle and walk in. The sight you were met with made your stomach flutter, it was jiyong he was sat in the middle of the couch legs spread, his black hair slicked back but a few strands falling in his face, you didn’t realise how long you’d been staring until you heard a throat being cleared.

“Enjoying the view?” He smirked looking at you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You scoff placing the coffee on the table in front of you.

“I know you want me, don’t hide it baby.” He jokingly pouted, You gave him a glare.“Shut up jiyong, you’re so full of yourself it’s sad.”

He stood from the couch and walked over to you. “Poor me.” He faked sobbed wiping his eyes, You hated it, hated the way his voice made you feel, hated the way your cheeks would heat up when he looked at you, You hated how bad you wanted him.

You stood in silence glaring at him, him doing the same until he moved closer, you could feel his breath on your face, your heart beating faster, ‘what is he doing’ you thought remaining still.

His face was now even closer to yours he leans in. “Thank you for the coffee y/n.” He laughs grabbing one of the coffees you placed on the table before walking out.

After you stood there for a minute trying to calm yourself down over the interaction with jiyong. You hear the door open and your head turns. You were met with the smiling face of your brother.

“Hi little sister, i didn’t know you were coming.” He said walking over to hug you. “I know, it was a last minute decision, I got everyone coffee though.” You giggle pulling back from his hug.

“So how is everything going with your job”. Daesung asked. “Yeah it’s going fine actually i’m enjoying it so far, and i’ve met so many new friends.” You smiled.

After you spent almost the whole morning with your brother you headed back home and decided to relax for the evening.

*beep* *beep*

You pick up your phone to check the notification.

y/f/n: Hi y/n, me and the girls are going out tonight, to the new bar that just opened, do you want to come?

y/f/n: It will be fun ;)

y/n: I’d love to, what time?

y/f/n: Be ready for 7 we will come get you in a cab.

You put your phone back down and got up to go get ready for the night.

After your shower you went to your closet to find some clothes, a while after searching you decided to go with a black short dress, fishnet tights and your black heels.

Your makeup didn’t take you long and by the time you were fullly dressed your phone buzzzed.

y/f/n: We are outside :)

You switched you phone off placing it in the little black purse you chose to match your outfit with, you also grabbed a jacket before leaving your apartment.

You and the girls arrive at the club, after waiting in the line for a while you were finally let in. You and two of the girls headed to the leather booths near the back of the club, the other girls headed to the bar to get the drinks started.

You all chatted for a while, and after many drinks some of the girls decided to head to the dancefloor, you and (y/f/n) stayed behind on the seats relaxing into the feeling of the alcohol.

“so how’s it going with that guy your always gushing over, jiyong is it?.” She smirked before taking a sip of her drink, You gave her a glare. “I do not gush over him and he’s being a asshole like usual.” You say rolling your eyes.

“hmm sure y/n.” She laughed, you look at her. “why don’t i go get us some more shots.” You fake smile, standing up, she let out another drunken laugh as you left.

Once you got to the bar you ordered 5 shots, you quickly downed two and headed back to the table with the rest.

As the night went on and your body consumed more alcohol. He couldn’t leave your head, you just can’t stop thinking about how close he got to you earlier, how his lips were so close to yours.

Your thoughts consumed you, you imagined how his lips would feel on yours and how badly you needed them there, you softly bit your lip at the thought.

Meanwhile (y/f/n) thought it would be a good idea to call jiyong, she could tell you were drunk and not really interacting with the group.

She leaned over and grabbed your phone from the table before heading outside, She unlocked your phone and searched for his contact, once she found it she clicked on it and let it ring.

“Hi, this is jiyong right?” (y/f/n) asked once the call connected. “yes, who is this?” He replied confused looking at your name on his screen but not hearing your voice.

“This is y/n’s friend, can you come pick her up she’s had too much to drink and no one else is picking up.” (y/f/n) confessed into the line.

Ji-yong replied almost immediately “Yeah send me the address i’ll be there.” He said sternly through the phone, after he got the address he said bye to your friend and left his house.

His drive over to you was silent yet his head was thinking of all the ways he’ll scold you for drinking too much, his hands grip tight on the steering wheel his jew clenching at the thought of you in such a vulnerable state.

He pulled up to the address your friend sent him, He made his way through the doors and headed in towards the crowd of people, his eyes scanning every inch of the room. That’s when he looked to the back where all the leather booths were, he saw your face and the pout that was plastered on it.

He made his way over to you and your friends. “y/n”. He said loudly over the music, Your head shoots up at the sound of your name, that’s when your eyes meet his, you were completely shocked to see him, but your drunk state causes you to stand up.

“JIYONGGG.” You screeched flinging your arms around his neck, your legs loosing a bit of balance when you stood up causing his arm to wrap around your waist, before you could even ask him why he’s here.

“let’s go.” He said in your ear, pulling you away from your friends, you didn’t protest just kept a hold of the man that’s been on your mind all night.

Once you got into his car your both sat their for a moment in silence. “How stupid can you be, getting this drunk you can barely walk and that outfit,is that for all the men you’ve probably been throwing yourself at all night.” He scoffed into the silence.

Your anger boils at his words, who does he think he is, speaking to you like that. “Why are you such an asshole.” You spoke looking at him.

“why are you such a bitch?” He replied, his eyes burning into yours.

You let out a sigh at his words and your head turned to face the window,no words enter the air after that,the only sound you heard was his keys as he started up the car. The ride to your apartment was uncomfortably silent , your head was slightly spinning from the alcohol.

his car pulled up to your apartment building and his door opened, He got out and walked to the passenger side to help you out.

You held onto his arm and slowly stepped out of the car. “why do you hate me?” You asked, your drunken words went straight to his ears and his head shot up to look at you. “I don’t hate you y/n.” He sighed.

“Then why aren’t you ever nice to me, you used too be i don’t understand what i’ve done.” The words fell from your lips, you raised you eyebrows waiting for his reply, you wanted to know why he treats you like this was it something you did you thought.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, I just- it’s hard to explain.” He replied stroking his hands through his hair and sighing. “Just fucking tell me jiyong i’m sick and tired of you treating me like shit, and i know i say things back but i’m just giving you the same treatment i get.” You scoffed pointing your finger in his chest.

The alcohol was definitely making you confident, the words you spoke would have never come out your mouth sober.

“It would ruin things i can-“ Before he could speak your words cut him off. “JUST FUCKING TELL ME JIYONG!” you yell, you were getting even more angry why won’t he just tell you.

“FUCK, i like you okay since the first day we met, you’re all i can think about and i’m sorry for being a asshole but i couldn’t do that to dae he would kill me if he knew i was thinking about his little sister like that, so i wanted you to hate me that’s why i treat you the way i do” His words hit you with relief, your body was frozen though and your eyes still connected to his.

You both stood there staring at each other, he was waiting for you to speak to say anything about his confession and when you didn’t he sighed. “Just forget about this okay.” He said heading back over to the drivers side of his car.

“wait” You spoke out gripping his wrist, he stops in his tracks. “I like you too, i always have.” The words finally left your lips, your head was spinning not because of the alcohol but because of him.

His body turned facing yours once again, he took two long strides, his hands grabbing your face, pulling your lips to his immediately.

The kiss initially took you by surprise but after a couple seconds your lips relaxed into his, his hands gradually moved to your waist to rest there and yours went to his hair.

Your heart was beating so fast you thought it would explode, the amount of times you’ve thought about this and now it’s actually happening and it’s so much better then you could have ever imagined. His soft lips exploring yours.

You felt his tounge wanting to enter your mouth so you let him, You moaned when your felt his tounge swirl against yours.

“The things you do to me.” He smirked pulling away. “I’ve wanted that for so long.” You whisper eyes never leaving his.

“Fuck baby, me too.” He groaned pulling you into a messier kiss then before. After what felt like hours he finally pulled back stroking your face in the process.

“I’m sorry for everything y/n.” He genuinely apologised, you smirk at his words. “It’s okay, you admitted to being an asshole and i’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses.” You tease.

“You little brat.” He laughed, his hands pulled you in closer to him and his hands came down to give your ass a playful slap. You both burst out laughing at his action.

“How did you know where i was anyway?” You asked. “Your friend called said you had too much to drink and no one else was picking up.” He replied pulling you into his side as you both start walking to your apartment. “oh my god, i’m going to kill her.”

#gdragon #gdragon x reader #gdragonfanfiction #bigbang #kwon jiyong #bigbang gdragon #oneshot #fluff #kwon jiyong x reader

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superpowereddonut · 3 days ago

Text

Spencer's Star (Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader)

Hi! I was just re-watching Criminal Minds and had to write this short little drabble! Also, this is my first time experimenting with the use of 2nd person (ie. using 'you'), but I still didn't use Y/N. Please let me know what you think!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader / Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Episode: 5x13 'Risky Business' (end scene on the jet)

Warnings: Slight (canon) Spencer-targeted bullying by the team (but not from reader!)

Word count: 907

*****

It had been a good case. Well… good by BAU standards.

Since the team had arrived in the small rural county in Wyoming, there had been no further deaths and within only 48-hours they had caught the unsub - an EMT who goaded teenages into choking themselves to death through an online ‘game’. Still, despite the quick solve, the whole case had been disturbing. You wondered whether anyone else was still dwelling on the twisted man who had repeatedly choked his own son. Or if anyone but Hotch had noticed JJ’s seemingly personal stake in this case. Move on, you reminded yourself, tomorrow there will be another case, and then another, and another. You can’t afford to dwell on each one.

Shaking your head slightly, you forced yourself to focus on the present, just as Emily took out a wooden shape and placed it on the table between you. “What is that?” Spencer asked from the seat to your left.

"It’s called a star puzzle.” Emily replied, “It’s basically impossible to figure out.”

You watched with interest as she began to take it apart, and noted Spencer’s quick eyes tracking each of her movements. “You have to put all of the pieces back together to form a perfect star,” she explained, “but the origin of it is kind of a romantic tale.”

Emily began recounting the story, her voice soft and lilting. “There was this young prince who wanted to win the heart of the fairest maiden in the land. So, he climbed to the top of the tallest tower in the kingdom and he caught a falling star for her.”

The whole plane seemed to be listening to Emily now - Rossi was watching from where he leant against the plane window next to her, and Penelope was hanging off her words as she carefully knitted what looked like a bright blue tea cosy. Even Derek, lounging on the seats behind you and Spencer, had taken off his headphones to hear better. But - as it so often did - your attention had moved to Spencer, who now had a slight crease in his brows.

“Unfortunately he was so excited that he dropped it and it smashed into all of these pieces…” Spencer reached out to pick up the now-separated pieces of the puzzle, his arm gently brushing yours as he moved. “...so, he frantically put it back together again to prove his undying love for her,” Emily was saying, “and he succeeded, and they lived happily ever after.” You caught Penelope’s soft sigh from the back of the plane before Spencer spoke up, “That doesn’t make any sense.” He said, and you had to hide your smile at his adorably confused tone. “What do you mean?” Emily replied, now frowning as well.

“You can’t catch a falling star. It would burn up in the atmosphere.” It was becoming difficult to hide your fond amusement, and you almost had to physically sit on your hands to keep from reaching out to smooth his furrowed brow.

“Yeah but it’s not literal, Reid, it’s a fable.”

Spencer didn’t seem satisfied, “But there’s no moral. Fables have morals.”

“Okay, so it’s just a romantic little story,” Emily rebutted, growing exasperated, “The point is, it’s basically impossible to do because you have to take all of those pieces and fit them together exactly…”

You watched, transfixed, as Spencer’s long, nimble fingers worked quickly, slotting each piece together with precision before he gently set it down in front of you, once again in its complete shape.

“There’s a lot to hate about you Dr. Reid.” Emily said, sarcasm softening her harsh words. You heard Derek chuckle from behind you.

“Play poker with him sometime.” Rossi said with a quiet smile.

“Try playin chess with him.” Derek chimed in.

“Or Go” came Penelope’s voice from the back.

You rolled your eyes at the familiar teasing jabs, but your smile fell when you saw Spencer’s face. You knew that look. He was feeling insecure, running back over the entire interaction to see where he had missed a social cue, or messed up in his contribution to the conversation. He didn’t seem to have picked up on Emily’s sarcasm, instead taking her comment to heart.

“Don’t be fooled,” you spoke up, “he watched you take apart the star and memorised the movements. He just had to repeat the pattern in reverse.”

Emily’s eyebrows shot up before she turned to Spencer. “Did you really?” She asked, and her tone now held unmistakable awe. He just shrugged, though you noticed the set of his shoulders relax slightly and his cheeks flush pink at her admiration.

The rest of the team gradually turned their attention elsewhere, and you were about to go fishing in your bag for a book when Spencer’s arm brushed yours again. You looked up to see his dark eyes fixed on yours. Oh, those eyes. They had always reminded you of old, cosy libraries and soft caramels that melt on your tongue. It was an effort not to lean into his warmth.

“How did you know I memorised the pattern?” He asked, his voice a soft whisper as though not to draw the attention of the others.

You allowed yourself a small smirk. “I know you too well Doctor Reid,” you said, equally quiet, “you’re going to have to try harder than that to impress me.”

His answering grin made your heart skip a beat.

“Challenge accepted.”

#criminal minds #bau #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #drabble #spencer reid drabble #fluff #emily prentiss #derek morgan #david rossi #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #5x13 #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x bau!reader #bau jet

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senseearly · 3 days ago

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This will probably be the only time I'll speak of this hear but I'm convinced that this whole fandom discourse stuff is less about 'icky' ships that they think no one should support, and more about the hunger for views/clicks that this type of post/content generate.

I've been noticing that over the past years. Participation in fandom isnt about creating fic/art/works for a character/ship/specific franchise. It has to be accompanied with a specific amount of engagement otherwise the participation wasnt worth it.

Of course this is not to say that creators shouldnt expect a like/comment (as a creator, you want your work to be seen/acknowledged) but this creates the incentive for people in fandom to make the next biggest thing. How do I make something that would get me a lot of likes? Comments? You can make the usual positive fanart/fanfic stuff for a specific ship or community. But theres also the other route of hateful content because anger just clicks.

Then again maybe this is also just a symptom of people just becoming jncreasingly online and having a blurred distinction of what should be kept private and what should be kept public - because I see a lot of that stuff too. And when you depend on social media for social interaction, the lines become one. Its okay not to like ships for any reason, but it doesnt have to be yelled at the rooftop. Theres also this trend of looking at your ships/preferred tropes as a definitive marker of your morality, but I think thats because some people have adopted their social media personas as their personality.

Its actually a lot easier now to curate fandom experience because most people have adopted the tagging system (ffnet was a wild west for side ships and tropes). So there really should be no problem for people to filter the ships that they dont want and stuff.

TikTok hetalia fans are so new to fandom cause what do you mean "mass usuk unfollowing" "we are not bringing usuk into 2025 🙏🙏🙏🥶🥶🥶" I don't even ship usuk at all but just because you see them as brothers or father and son does not mean others do mkaayyy this is why Tumblr is better just move here and block the damn tag ohbmy god 💀

#my two cents; back to yapping about ships #theres a post here on tumblr talking about fandom interactions in tumblr/blogs vs twitter #to explain why the environment of these two places are so different #thats worth looking at #imo tiktok and reddit are closer to echochambers so u tend to get like the most extreme takes there

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thebreakfastgenie · 2 days ago

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This might be a bit spicy a take but the way leftists talk about populism being an amazing thing or whatever annoys me because like… populism is just low level demagoguery I won’t lie. Or at least, demagoguery is the natural conclusion of populism if taken to its furthest extent.

I think populism is woven into American culture. It's all through our national mythology. "We the people" are rallying words for Americans. The problem is and always has been defining who the "common people" are. Most people think of themselves as belonging to that group and so define it as "people like me" which often has poor results for obvious reasons, especially in a country with very little class consciousness. This relates to a lot of things but I want to point out race specifically because it's been so integral since the beginning. A lot of populist narratives inherently define the common people as white. We have a cultural image of a "real American." Why is someone from the heartland (it goes so deep!! the fact that it's even called that!) more American than someone from New York City? A lot of Americans put people outside the "common people" category based on things like education or identities they view as cosmopolitan. Millionaires and billionaires can make aesthetic choices that will code them as less elite than a New Yorker with a masters degree. Populism just seems to be a losing philosophy for the left. The right makes it work. Look how rampant anti-intellectualism is.

Even when people do view the ultrawealthy as out of touch, a lot of it is more motivated by jealousy than justice. People responded to Bernie Sanders' rhetoric, but I think a significant number of them were, consciously or not, thinking "it's not fair that these people are rich and I'm not." I think a lot of Americans believe if you could stop a few people from hoarding wealth, everyone could be rich. Not just comfortable and cared for, but rich. We're a nation of temporarily embarrassed millionaires. The myth of the American Dream comes back to haunt us once again. To Bernie's credit I think he knew that and was hoping he could persuade these people but it didn't work (and he should have given up after 2016 imo) and I don't think the people on the left who came after him are as aware as he is.

It's always funny to me when leftists point to the popularity of hating on big corporations. Everyone hates big corporations as a concept, but the feelings behind it can be very different. A lot of people fantasize about being business owners. A lot of hate for corporations comes from smaller business owners who are protecting their business interests. This is not exactly Marxist in nature. This is another reason the conflation of "big corporations" with "capitalism" is a problem! Lots of people hate big corporations and love capitalism. They also hate vague images of guys in suits sitting around boardrooms. They absolutely love the services big corporations provide and sometimes identify with the corporations themselves! People love Walmart, they love Amazon, but they hate "big corporations."

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lesbianherald · 1 day ago

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oh your jayce analysis was !!!!!! ty for sharing! could I ask for your thoughts on his character and the class conflict in s2.1 when he decides to make hextech weapons again? like after the bridge scene and meljayvik talking about weapons, at the very end of s1, jayce gives viktor, a zaunite, his chair, the symbol of his position and authority as a councilor of piltover, and had asked him to announce the brokered peace. ands I loved that development !! but jayce chooses to weaponize hextech after the attack at the memorial (tho maybe cait convinced him) and he still doesn't seem to get it imo? like he's still very naive and ignorant (and slightly biased), he canttt understand the consequences of putting hextech-powered weapons in the hands of pilt enforcers (even if it's only caits group). and then and then vik sees his weapon prints and the rift between them is back even stronger than ever and I think that's why he leaves jayce?

(typingr this out on my work break with 2 min left sorry if this doesn't make sense. anyway don't think I've seen anyone really go into depth on him choosing hex weaponry again, so idk if my fellow jayviks just don't want to address it or if I'm misinterpreting altogether)

No no i love this.

I actually, controversially, think Jayce making weapons works really well in act 1. He just gets attacked with a fucking chainsaw. He witnesses so much horror and carnage. He's still very much baby at this point. Like he's still relatively sheltered. I think this rattled him a lot. It's clear he does not want to. But I think he's traumatized and I think the incident makes him regress. And I think little regressions like this are actually really important in character development? Unfortunately becacause its season 2 that doesn't actually go anywhere or mean anything.

What I do not like is how little that's acknowledged in his fight with Viktor. You're telling me Viktor briefly glancing at some blueprints is enough? Please ! But I'm not one of those people that feels Jayce's regression there was completely unearned. I've seen a lot about how he should have gotten way more covered in blood during the chainsaw attack and the scene should have been more gruesome overall. I agree and I think that would really help pinpoint and explain his trauma. I wonder what happened there. It seems very unlike fortiche to spare us the gory details.

What I personally despise is the way that hextech weaponry is used in the finale with this sort of obscene amount of nonchalance that makes it seem like it was never an issue in the first place and essentially narratively tells the audience that hextech weaponry was the answer all along. That I hate and I don't see talked about enough.

Also thank you !!!!

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alyimoss · 2 days ago

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YES YES YES IVE NOTICED THIS BEFORE!!!! the reverse is also true: chara calls asgore dad, but toriel is just toriel. both have a parent theyre closest with

that does make me think tho like. frisk seems to me like he would either call both parents just by their name or call both mom and dad. not pick one and leave the other. hes shown to be more considerate of the residents of xtale in later timelines than chara, whos grown much more disillusioned, hateful, and violent. chara has way fewer problems treating people more poorly because in his mind the end justifies the means and as long as the goal hes working toward is noble (which. it at first is but later twists into something completely different. but i think he still considers it noble and the "best outcome for everyone" and thats ahat matters most to him) any horrible thing he does is completely fine. hes playing on the same battlefield as xgaster, after all, so he has to adopt his same tactics. frisk, though also shown to have grown more hateful and violent and disillusioned, shows a lot more hesitation in using and/or hurting the residents of xtale.

anyway, all that to say that he just doesnt rlly strike me as the type of guy to just exclude one parent, especially if it hurts/saddens them. like i could be completely wrong and hes just got a preference contrasting charas bc siblings, but. idk.

bc chara not calling toriel mom immediately makes me think of timeline III. the timeline right after the one where chara got the father figure he yearned for. it was the first timeline to use underswap as a base instead of the original timeline. in the episode, we see both frisk and chara sitting in toriels lap. frisk is chatting happily with her, but chara looks livid

i wonder if chara refuses to call toriel mom because she hasnt been the mother he knew for so, so long. she doesn't even know it. and swap toriel taking asgores role and some if not all of his personality (depending on the interpretation), it probably felt to chara like she was trying to replace asgore. a shoddy stand in, smiling at him almost in mockery as he has to mourn the death of his father alone because noone except for him, frisk, xgaster, and alphys even know he died. for all the other residents of xtale, that series of events never happened.

toriel asks him whats wrong and he has to fight the urge to snap at her, to yell at her that she knows. she knows and shes mocking him. that shell never be him. that she shouldnt have ever dared to do something like this so close to his death. and he only barely holds that all in because he knows shes not doing this on purpose. she doesnt know what happened. she didnt ask to be remade in someone else's image. she doesn't even know she has been

the whole situation fuels his hatred of xgaster more, because now more than ever he feels like hes being toyed with. first it was just the world. just seeing what changed. and then one of the most precious things to him was taken from him by the very man who promised him the world, a marionette facsimile dangling by strings from the claws chara couldve sworn he didnt always have.

and again, its not toriels fault. but it leaves such a strong impression on him that she forever changes in his eyes. shes no longer the loving mother. shes someone who doesnt belong, someone he doesnt recognize as his own. she changed from who she was when she WAS his mom, all the way back in timelines I and II, and the mother he loved is dead. gone. erased. irreplaceable. and no matter what xtoriel does, chara can never bring himself to call her mom again

and, on the contrary, he latches to asgore hard. because hes also changed, hes not exactly as he remembers him, but hes back. hes alive. hes still asgore and hes still his father and he missed him so much. he doesnt care about the smaller details, nothing matters except the fact that his father is back. that the man who gave him hope and support and company when he felt so crushingly lonely under the weight of losing his world is back, and that means chara isnt alone anymore. hes not hopeless. and he holds to that tiny hope as tight as he can

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#i could probably try to analyze why frisk prefers toriel based on like?? associated traits. idfk #i havent slept i just spent like 6 or 7 hrs cleaning my fridge 😭😭 im exhausted #but god do i love talking abt xtale #this is actually the first time ive really considered how mocking timeline III was. esp to chara #having his father killed and knowing he wont ever come back bc the man who controls his world has decided he must become someone else #and taunted by someone who has been made his replacement without even knowing it. someone who has his mannerisms and his quirks #and his interests but its *not* him and the whole world just feels so completely wrong. everything he knew is gone and yet...#its also right in front of him #and then its all torn away yet again as xgaster overwrites faster than ever #chara doesnt even get an adjustment period or anything. he has not grown to know this world like his own #and he doesn't even get a chance #yknow. during the xevent i doubt chara had much uhh. positive interacion with cross. but.#i wonder if his sneering and teasing and complaining just grinds to a halt sometimes because something cross said sounds so much like his #(charas) life. he will never admit it #but he sees a bit of himself in cross. or a lot of himself actually. theyre pretty similar in several ways #and though he would usually be quick to make fun of cross mo matter what he says #he just cant help but remember the anger and the despair and the fear that gripped him back then and he just.#lets cross be for a while. he has no words to offer. not that hed know how even if he did. he cant offer much in terms of physical comfort #not that he ever would #but he recognizes that pain and for a brief moment remembers who the enemy is and what hes fighting for #what awaits him if he wins. why he HAS TO win #and for a second he remembers wishing for someone who could take away his suffering even temporarily #and in a quet and solemn moment he just. lets cross weep over the world forever gone #and pretends he himself isnt thinking of a home he year s for just as bad #anyway i almsot passed out like six times wroting this. im genuinely starting to see shit lmao #hopefully the tags wont get deleted.....#finking #rebog

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maitanii · 2 days ago

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unfortunate encounter. inui seishu. 2k

It wasn’t his day. It wasn’t his week either—or his month (or even his year). Not that Inui was particularly prone to complaining, but he was pretty sure someone had cursed him.

First of all, there was missing money—a lot of money—from the store’s register. And, of course, the discrepancy had happened during his shift. Which meant that the irresponsible idiot who worked the early morning shift had done whatever they wanted with the payments and, worse still, Inui hadn’t even noticed.

Reason number two: the stupid shirt. Chifuyu had convinced everyone to wear matching shirts for Takemichi’s bachelor party. Seishu’s first reaction was to throw the shirt on the ground and stomp on it, but Draken gave him two choices: either wear the shirt, or Draken would put it on him himself.

And now here he was, with relentless raindrops falling on his head, the pink shirt with Takemichi’s face on it completely soaked, his bike parked on the side of the road, a scratched car in front of him, and a girl crying over the steering wheel.

Shit, shit, shit.

He’d love to pin the blame on the girl, but she had done everything right. It was him who, in his hurry, had forgotten to check his brakes and ended up crashing into her car. Once he recovered from the initial impact, he’d tried to apologize, but the girl had already started crying and was unable to form a coherent sentence. Which meant he’d have to be the one to explain everything to the officers.

Taking the cigarette from his lips, he pressed his phone harder against his ear, hoping the police would pick up faster. He was supposed to be at the restaurant in an hour, and he still had ten minutes of highway left to go. Not a chance he’d make it. Stupid day and his stupid luck. He was never going to ignore Naoto’s advice about warding off bad luck ever again.

“Hello. Yes.” He kept providing the officer on the line with the location details. “Twenty minutes? Shit. Yes, officer. Understood.”

Shoving the phone into his pocket, he barely resisted the urge to smash it against the asphalt. His white Converse crushed the remains of his cigarette under the sole. Inui ran his hands through his hair, slicking it back. He hated the rainy season.

As if the sky could sense his rising heart rate, the rain decided to come down harder. Two minutes into wondering whether his life was even worth it, he figured that if he killed himself on the spot, Draken would bring him back to life just to beat him up. So, reluctantly, he made his way over to the car, where the girl he’d crashed into still had her head resting against the steering wheel.

He knocked on the car door twice. On the second knock, the girl lifted her head sluggishly and turned to look at him. If it hadn’t been for the terrible situation they were in, he might’ve laughed at the red mark on her forehead from leaning on the same spot for too long. But he wasn’t in the mood for jokes, nor did he want to deal with her tears. When she rolled the window down slightly, Inui took it as his cue to speak.

“I know you probably don’t feel like talking. And as hard as it is to believe, neither do I. But I can’t fill out the damn accident report if I die of hypothermia out here. Would you be so kind as to let me into the car?”

The girl stared at him for a few seconds, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. Hugging her bag tightly to her chest, she unlocked the door and gestured toward the passenger seat. Inui didn’t hesitate to climb in.

The inside of the Volkswagen smelled faintly of a strawberry air freshener on its last legs.

After two minutes of silence, the girl straightened up and opened her mouth to speak at the same time Inui did.

“Look, I’m sorry. I was going too fast, and since this road is usually so empty, I got overconfident. I’m really sorry.”

“You’re bleeding.”

They both turned their heads to look at each other. The girl swallowed hard when she caught her reflection in Inui’s green eyes.

“Oh, blood.” Seishu reached for his left leg and confirmed that there was, indeed, a nasty-looking wound. “Great. Just great.”

“Let me see it.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Are you okay?” When the girl nodded, Inui felt somewhat relieved. Not to be heartless, but as long as she wasn’t physically hurt, it was one less thing to deal with. Turning his head, he glanced at his bike through the window. He’d left his helmet on the ground, and now it was acting as a makeshift bucket, collecting rainwater.

“Let me see your leg,” the girl repeated, her voice snapping him out of his thoughts. “Please.”

“Seriously, it’s nothing. I’ve had friends hit me harder than this. Don’t sweat it.”

“I’m a nurse.”

“Thanks for sharing. I’m a mechanic.”

For the first time since the accident happened, the tension in the air eased, and a soft laugh escaped the girl’s lips. Inui breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well, mechanic, at the very least, can you do me a favor and roll up your pant leg?”

Inui raised an eyebrow keeping the poker face. “Roll up my pant leg? Wow, I admit I have nice legs, but we’re moving pretty fast there. Should I light a candle first?”

Her eyes widened in horror. “What? No! That’s not what I meant!” She frantically waved her hands, her cheeks turning a deep crimson. “There’s mud on the path where we crashed! I don’t want dirt getting into the wound—just roll it up a bit so I can clean it!”

“Ah, got it.” Inui nodded with an exaggeratedly serious expression, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him. “No candles, then. Noted.”

Seishu took his time rolling up the fabric, his movements slow and deliberate. He’d understood her perfectly from the start, but he couldn’t resist teasing her a little. Force of habit.

The young woman glanced at the wound out of the corner of her eye. It didn’t look too bad, but it would still need to be cleaned and disinfected. She sighed, feeling her eyes begin to well up with tears again. What a perfect day for her period to show up. Just as she was about to bury her arms on the steering wheel, she heard the guy next to her clear his throat.

“If you’re going to cry again, at least give me a heads-up. I think it’d be more awkward if I watch.”

“You’re such a charmer, you know that?”

“I get that a lot,” he replied.

She scoffed but couldn’t stop a faint smile from slipping through. Shaking her head, she looked down at her lap, her hands clasped tightly together. “This is a disaster. I’m supposed to be at work in 10 minutes.”

“One of my best friends is getting married in two days. Today’s his bachelor party,” he said, leaning back against the headrest. “Trust me, I’m very aware of the disaster. But hey, at least I’m not dead, and neither are you. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

The young woman shot him a look, squinting slightly. “Is that your way of comforting people?”

“I thought I mentioned I’m a mechanic, not a therapist,” Inui retorted with a sarcastic smile. “Besides, the last time I tried to comfort someone, I ended up getting punched in the face. Not really my thing.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle, and for a moment, the tension between them seemed to ease. “Well, mechanic, maybe you should stick to what you know.”

“Thanks for the advice, nurse,” he quipped, raising an eyebrow. Then, leaning forward, he gestured exaggeratedly toward his leg. “So, are you going to take care of this wound, or would you rather keep crying while we debate who’s having the worse day?”

The woman sighed and turned to face him, finally making up her mind. “Fine, but first, I’ll need something to clean it with. And don’t even think about handing me a used tissue or something worse, because I swear I’ll leave you bleeding.”

“Don’t worry,” he replied with a half-smile. “I’ve got an emergency kit on the bike. At least I did something right today.”

“A miracle” She muttered under her breath, watching as Inui reached out for the door handle. “What are you doing?”

“Getting the first-aid kit,” he said, already pushing the door open.

“Wait! You’re just going to—” Her protest was drowned out by the sound of the rain hitting harder as he stepped out into the downpour.

He didn’t bother hurrying; he was already soaked from earlier. His shirt clung awkwardly to his frame as he crouched by the bike, opening one of the side compartments. After rummaging for a moment, he pulled out a small, well-used first-aid kit. He didn’t even bother trying to keep it dry as he trudged back toward the car.

Sliding back into the passenger seat with a squelch, he tossed the kit onto the center console and brushed his damp hair out of his face.

“Here,” he said simply, flicking open the latch and pulling out some antiseptic wipes and gauze.

She frowned at the mess he was making. “Great, now my car smells like wet dog. You couldn’t just let me grab it?”

“It’s my bike,” he replied, handing her the supplies. “I’d rather not add ‘letting a stranger mess with my stuff’ to today’s list of mistakes.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, snatching the wipes from his hand. “Fine. But stay still unless you want this to hurt more than it already does.”

He leaned back against the seat, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “I’ll try my best, Nurse.”

She worked quickly, cleaning the wound with firm but precise movements. He hissed when the antiseptic hit, but to his credit, he didn’t pull away. When she finished wrapping the gauze, she leaned back with a satisfied nod.

“There,” she said, tossing the used wipes into the small trash bag hanging from the dashboard. “Try not to mess it up before the police get here.”

“No promises,” he said with a lopsided grin, flexing his leg experimentally.

“Good,” she muttered, leaning back in her seat. “Now what?”

“Now,” he said, glancing out at the rain as it hammered down on the windshield, “we wait.”

The tension in the car had eased slightly, leaving only the rhythmic sound of the rain filling the silence.

“Do you mind if I turn the radio on?” she asked.

“Not at all” Inui started to get comfortable in the seat and let his forehead fall against the glass of the window.

The radio crackled to life, filling the car with a soft, cheesy love song. Inui snorted. “Great. Mood music.”

The girl rolled her eyes, adjusting the volume. “Would you rather sit in awkward silence?”

He shrugged. “I was kind of enjoying the dramatic tension, to be honest.”

She let out a small laugh, finally seeming to relax. “You’re impossible.”

Another stretch of silence passed, the rain drumming steadily against the windshield. Then, she shifted slightly in her seat.

“I never got your name,” she said.

He considered ignoring the question—keeping things strictly in the “unfortunate strangers” category. But at this point, what was the harm? He’d already bled in her car. That felt like a first-name basis situation.

“Inui Seishu” he finally said.

She gave a slow nod, lips twitching. “Well, Inui Seishu, I hope you know you owe me a car wash after all this.”

He turned his head to look at her, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And I hope you know you owe me therapy bills for emotional distress.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved a hand dismissively. “Add it to your bad luck tab.”

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “That tab’s already maxed out, sweetheart.”

She grinned, leaning back into her seat as the song on the radio switched to something equally sappy.

#draft is out #and so am i #i love inui #inui seishu #in my mind he's this stupidly sincere #inui x reader #inui seishu x reader #tokyo revengers x reader

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demonixoverlord · 2 days ago

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dunno if im late or nuthin but this took me a couple weeks to do cough @quartztwst for the uhhh... *flips through papers* .. no yandere au yeaahhh (i might do myself / my yuusona as well, im debating it haha)

magic level ^^^ he's pretty good in general, with his strongest being more.. phenomenon ish? (ref: this post ig) he'd probably be a rival, only due to the fact that he tolerates Azul and doesn't condone murder lol (might change? idk)

Q/A questions under cut

Does your OC have parents or family in the AU? If not, what is their current living situation?

He lives with his parents in a pretty nice house near where his parents work (aka S.T.Y.X cough) and tends to walk with Idia to school (most likely forcibly lol)

What are their thoughts on Quartz? He finds her interesting, although a bit sceptical because he can tell somethings fishy with how she talks about Azul and acts around him. He does try to see if she's doing alright on occasion, worried if she's masking due to personal issues, issues at home, etc.

What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?

Macarius is positively neutral about Azul, admiring him for his status but also judgemental about his tactics. Since Macarius tends to help Idia a lot or just stay nearby for social support (we all need someone to speak for the introverts lol) he met Azul at the end of one of the council meetings, and again at clubs. Due to seeing Azul often at clubs, he's gotten to know him slightly better.

Your OC stumbles upon a dead body a few feet outside of the school. Do they report it? Immediately. He first of all wants justice for the victim, but he also doesn't want the enviroment nearby to smell of rot. (lol)

Why does your OC like their crush?

Growing up knowing Idia from their parents working together, he grew closer to Idia and admired him for his skill. Aside from that, Macarius slowly came to the realization that he likes boys as well, more specifically Idia. Of course he doesn't entirely know why or how, especially due to his ex-girlfriend pretty much ruining his expectations of relationships, but he's coping through it.

Since reputation and popularity are kind of different, is your OC popular in and outside of school?

He's pretty neutral standing outside of school, being known for his community garden attempts (he's probably still trying lol). In school however? He somehow became the person lots of first years come to, and has been told he's attractive (he, of course, doesn't believe these often haha)

How social is your OC? Do they stray away from crowds? Macarius doesn't exactly hate crowds, but he wouldn't choose to be in a large one (events being exceptions) since lots of people tend to overwhelm him (and Idia, who he's more worried about :P)

Which TWST character does your OC believe should have more admirers than Azul? He's actually surprised by the amount Azul has, considering Vil also has an admirer hoard, but he isn't complaining since he's happy for Azul in some way. However, Macarius is glad there isn't too many after Idia, considering it'd probably overwhelm him and he'd have to force him to leave his house haha

What are their relationships with other characters/OCs? Shin ( @liyuviq ): "Clever. I admire their persistence. Not everything is a case, however." Macarius likes to consider being their friend, however he doesn't exactly want to push anything, so he doesn't say much about it haha Shuu ( @oya-oya-okay) "Surprisngly sweet. Her hair reminds me of orange lillies." He finds her entertaining, and admires her kindness. He hasn't talked to her as much unless its in passing periods or in their shared class(es) so he makes the effort to try checking in on her from time to time just to be polite. To new / first years, some consider him to be a big brother to them, showing them their classes and helping them navigate the school until they have the hang of it. What grade/year is your OC? 3rd year (18), same as Idia. (he's only a few months older than Idia) Your OC notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does your OC report this? He doesn't at first, thinking he was seeing things. After a few more times, he quietly told Riddle about it, unsure if he wanted to go as far as school officals yet. Your OC is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does your OC react to that? Does your OC know it's Quartz? Macarius would be probably very surprised and hurt, but still respectful about telling others that it wasn't him. Unless he knew more, he wouldn't have much of a hunch on Quartz without infomation.

What is your OCs goal for the school year or in life? He wants to start a school community garden, using technology to help the advancement of plants and agriculture without harming them.

Where is your OC usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch? Macarius is normally with Idia during passing periods or classes they share, as well as lunch. However, he occasionally tutors at lunch (which makes Idia nervous since he sits with him haha) or examines the school's yard(s) in an attempt to plan out a future garden somewhere.

How are your OC's grades? Almost always A's or B's, with the occasional C if he's confused on a subject. (such as English)

Which elimination tactic is preferred to use on them? *shrug* What are your OC's weaknesses? Are they easily manipulated? Easily overpowered by? He's only easily manipulated if he's close to them, especially relationship wise (i.e. his exgf) which is why he tries to keep some people at arms length. For weaknesses, he's pretty neutral on most unless its about Idia (cough very protective cough) or needles (he doesn't enjoy them haha)

Any drama, traumatic story for your OC in the AU? i mean, eh? you can check his lore page if you wanna take that and mush it with this I dunno

#skye rants #skyes art #twst #twst wonderland #twst oc #twisted wonderland #disney twst #no yandere sim au #twst au #twisted wonderland au #fan au #macarius grieves #ignihyde oc

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sapphiresaphics · 2 days ago

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You can do whatever you want in your own videos. I’m not telling you you can’t. BUT if you are going to do analysis videos, it is better that you do so from an objective starting point. Because otherwise you are no better than the millions of other right-wing talking point videos which have no basis in fact and are ALL about playing to emotions and biases.

THAT is what I was calling you out for. You START from a bias (A weak one at that), and just continues from there which gives your video a sHaKy foundation.

Another tell that you’re not coming from a place of honesty is the use of terms like “copaganda.” Not only does that indicate your biases, but it makes it EASIER for people to dismiss your opinions because you’re using terminology no normal person would use to describe anything.

You might not be right wing, but you sure as hell are using their tactics to express your beliefs. And I find that to be really fucked up and wrong. You are alienating yourself from other leftists in an attempt to prove how leftist you can be. You are appealing to a very specific and LIMITED crowd. THAT is why I called your activism “performative.”

Legitimate film criticism revolves around being objective as a way to try and REMOVE biases and critique a work on its own merits. By admitting that you’re coming from a place of bias, you are admitting you do not have any interest in your analysis being taken seriously or objectively. Which is what pandering is.

I have spent the last few months going to the mat for Arcane because the perspective from some people about this show is WILDLY out of step with reality. On both the left AND the right. Apparently NOBODY really gets this show and they all have wildly different reasons for hating it. Your focus on hating Caitlyn and Vi and “copaganda” and hating centrists is no different from the right-wingers who hate on Caitlyn and Vi for being too “woke.”

And for some STRANGE reason, a lot of the hate boils down to completely misunderstanding or misrepresenting the show.

For example: “Caitlyn gassed all of Zaun!”

No she didn’t. The show doesn’t show this. The characters don’t say this. The imagery used don’t show this. The ways in which the fantasy smog The Grey work don’t show this. But a lot of leftists have worked REALLY HARD to equate what Caitlyn was doing with Hitler. And as a Jewish queer, that infuriates me. Not only is it bad analysis, but it grossly misrepresents what happens in the show. And so I’ve been fighting back against that sort of weird nonsense.

And your video… looks to be FILLED with all that same meme nonsense that I’ve been fighting against all this time.

I think part of the problem is you’re going. You’re not pragmatic, and don’t have the experience of understanding what ideals need to be fought for, so you fight for ALL of them at once. And as a result, your politics get muddy and extreme and disassociated from reality.

And when you apply all of that into a show that was never meant to be leftist propaganda in the first place, you do a disservice to the message the show isnACTUALLY trying to say. Cuz news flash, Arcane isn’t left wing, right wing, or centrist. It’s a lot of things and depiction is not endorsement.

Hope that clears up some of my initial responses and why I strongly dislike the very premise of your video.

You know what's also disrespectful? Turning violet's alcoholism self-harm and suicidal tendencies into a fucking montage. Not to mention trying to frame it like she's only upset about Caitlyn and losing her abusive girlfriend? She has a lot more to be upset about.

Also we never talk about the fact that she's literally homeless? Like without Cait she doesn't have anywhere to go and we never talk about this the show sure doesn't. The show also doesn't give a fuck about her alcoholism on top of the fact that they made it into a montage it's either never talked about or it's seen as like a funny haha. Which pissed me off to no end.

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worth-this-and-more · 3 days ago

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[TW: sh mentions, violence] [spoilers for legendborn and bloodmarked, read at your own caution ;)]

so i've been rereading and trying to cover up all the legendborn content that happened while i pufff disappeared, and pardon me it is taking more time than i imagined, however i just wanted to start off with one pet peeve of mine

*rant incoming*

this might just be my unorganised thoughts or maybe just common sense, but sometimes you dont fully understand why a character did something; you have to sometimes to come back and read it again once you have that epiphany. it doesn't matter whatever tf they are doing, it sometimes just doesnt make that effect, especially on first read.

when i first read bree lashing out on greer and sar when they touched her hair, i didnt quite understand it. i thought its a cultural thing and moved on. now something about me, im a little fair, by indian standards. not completely clear skin and shit but im on the lighter side. so if im in my village, if im anywhere else wearing something with a bit of skin showing, i automatically get the comments "you're so fair" "what's your skincare" "so lucky" "you'd marry so soon" all that typa shit. and then come the unwanted touches, touching me on any exposed skin. and by any i genuinely mean any exposed skin. that's when i kind of realised why bree was so irritated when they tocuhed her hair, because people sometimes see our nicer features as free estate. and its annoying. and that is when her reaction fully made sense.

when i first read selwyn mesmered bree, i was so angry. i did not want bree to forgive him without him grovelling, ofc, but i also could not understand why he did that. what was his motive?? and why hide it from bree only?? nobody else?? now i've been in my low times since like years, not a big deal. got a lot of scars, some too visible, some not. i dont bother hiding it if im out in public where there's nobody who knows me or nobody who would care enough to ask. but if im with my friends, close people, i hide them all. and its just like valec said, its not to hide something its because of the fear of judgement. and that's when it kind of made sense why selwyn would hide his descent specifically from bree. she has bad experiences with mesmer, no doubt, but even worse with demons. it was a bad call through and through but one that is not unfamiliar. i dont hide my scars for my safety, i hide them because im ashamed.

and when nick killed max and then promptly disappeared into the woods, that was also somehow so out of character in my eyes from him. during grief and in the moments of crushing hopelessness, doesn't everyone want someone?? isnt the obvious reaction supposed to be him coming to bree, and not running away from her?? but that's not what happens yk. i once had a classmate who was not generally the type of person you'd want to be around. he was the type of person who has "trouble" spelt on him in flashing neon red. but after all, we were young, wanted to keep the peace, so i kept the decent communication. he would constantly invade my personal space, unwanted touches, unsolicited comments, it gets annoying. the last straw was when he tried to touch my best friend's schoolbag. i, in a moment of pure rage, threw him against the wall and actually started choking him. when the class managed to get me off of him, he was unconscious. in that moment my bestfriend came to put a hand on my shoulder, i visibly flinched and ran away from there and stayed in the washroom until school was over. this isnt as bad as beheading someone, but the response is familiar. of course he is going to go away rather than come closer; people whose love language is physical touch often have their hate language as isolation. i didnt hurt him purely because he tried to take my bestie's bag, i hurt him because i wanted to. nick didnt kill max purely because he killed his father, he killed him because he wanted to.

there's more of the events where we just kind of make this internal bias that we know what the character is going through and that we would definitely make better decisions, but can you?? do you really think you can or you're just overestimating yourself or underestimating the actual thing going on with the character??

i have made this mistake too, i know. i have taken some time to reflect back though and now i can say that yes i have made harsh judgements too. i am changing that tho because i've got a lottt of time to sit down and think and yeah i guess we all need it time to time.

what im trying to say is, things are not black and white. its a spectrum, there's dark grey light grey. it's a lot. and until and unless you are capable of putting yourself in that type of situation or closer, it's better to not make concrete opinions. shit happens and people do things, real life people are just that, people.

anyways this was a long rant i probably lost my point halfway through but okay whateva

#the legendborn cycle #legendborn cycle #legendborn #bloodmarked #oathbound #tracy deonn #briana matthews #bree matthews #selwyn kane #selwyn emrys kane #nick davis #nicholas davis

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pumpkinsy0 · 1 day ago

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here to hassle you again. what if i asked very nicely for some papercut interacting with curtis gang/ponys brothers. what then? (aka i miss soda and curly fucking with each other while pony just sits there and darry shakes his head solemnly in the background)

ur wish is my command🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️

•the gang uses whipped cream a LOT but after curly comes over and took the whipped cream into the room him and pony were hanging out in, literally nobody wants to even take the can anymore, assuming theres whipped cream LEFT. the gangs swears they gotta b licking whipped cream off each other which look, they arent WRONG but its nothing CRAZY its just off each others arm or something, but the gang wont hear pony out💔💔on the bright side more whipped cream for pony!!!

•if curlys gonna b sleeping over like hes part of the gang hes gonna get “part if the gang” treatment. the first and only time curly slept on the floor was when pony slept w him cause they were watching a movie on tv and fell asleep, the gang took each end of the blanket, and lifted them up to swing them around. curly was so mad he aint even stay for breakfast, he wasnt gonna stay for it anyways but he wasnt gonna stay ESPECIALLY then🙄🙄

•as much as soda would love to b nosey and see what theyre doing in ponys old room, yknow practice his older brother right, when he brought girls over, pony would leave him alone and so he gotta grant pony his own privacy as a “thank u”

•darry likes bringing them snacks believe it or not, but when hes preparing em he can bear some of the things they say and it physically makes darry stop doing what hes doing bc like??????what the hell r u guys on about??????

•nobody else makes curly stop paying attention to pony like dally does, w everyone else, curly messes w them to make pony laugh or if he does pay attention to them fully, its not for long!! w dally tho?? it doesnt matter if dally wasnt even talking to curly, curly will talk his shit and get all in dallys face, most of the time curlys hatred will always run deeper than his love for others i fear

•johnnys the exact opposite, hes the one curly ignores the most, curly will casually forget johnny was even w them and hes the one that actually hangs out w pony and curly the most

•dating someone whos related to soda and darry means u get free repairs on ur car and home, curly constantly jokes that pony is his insurance contract. soda hates to admit it,,,but its a lil funny,,,,darry chuckled at the joke he can give curly his flowers

in the scrapbook darrys continued from his parents, soda and darry make an effort to include curly in it, if their partners have been in it, so does ponys, ESPECIALLY his first relationship. so darry and soda do make an effort to include curly in on their small trips, for their parents sake

•speaking of parents, ponys worst moment was when him and curly partially partially made out in his parents/darrys room. only darry knows about it cause the sheets were rumpled up and pony couldnt walk pass that room without giving it a look😭😭. nobodies brought it up and it will stay that way.

•pony being w curly ALSOOO means that the curtis gang has more street cred and their members wont get jumped bc ppl will think twice about messing w a gang that has closer ties to the shepard gang, curly being around doesnt allwaayyyssss have to mean doom and gloom🙏🏽🙏🏽u get semi scary m/unhinged dog privileges

#curly shepard #ponyboy curtis #purly #PaperCut ship #darry curtis #darrel curtis #sodapop curtis

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raayllum · 5 hours ago

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Why Callum Made His Choice (7x02)

Or choices, and why I think each of them were a long time coming. The according choices down below:

Defending Runaan

Betraying his brother

Leaving with Rayla

Resigning as High Mage

Let's go, because sections of this have been sitting in my drafts since the season aired because I thought it'd be fun, but now it's been long enough that now there's Dreaded Discourse (???) over the topic; this meta is not mean to be a rebuttal to any version of critique of events, merely an explanation behind Callum's actions/characterization, and why he did like... absolutely everything in the exact manner I'd always thought ahead of time that he would with his reasonings, processing, framing, and actions. Okay? Okay.

Just a warning: this got really long, do not read it in one sitting, there are sections for a reason. Or if you are, grab a snack and a drink first. Stay hydrated.

Okay now we can go.

Why does Callum defend Runaan?

This one is, I think, the simplest to answer in some ways, purely because 3x06 gave us the answer a long time ago.

I hate him. He's the one who took my mother. Looking at him, seeing him... It makes me sad, and angry, and... confused. See that spear? It was her spear, my mom's, and my stepdad put it into his heart. How am I supposed to feel about that? Glad? Happy that we got revenge? Or maybe regretful, and sad, because... Because that was Zym's dad. I feel so sorry that this all happened.

Callum is a deeply relational person. He aligns himself with Rayla in 1x03 because of Ezran and then trusts her because she's willing to lose a hand for his little brother. He does dark magic to save Rayla and free the dragon because he knows she won't leave without it. He forgives and works/trusts Soren in 3x08 because the man helped save his little brother. While Runaan's bow initially throws him, it ultimately does not matter to him because that's Rayla's dad and she loves him, and that's enough for Callum. His extreme relational viewpoint is also why he's so loyal to Ezran and to Rayla, and why crossing/putting either of them at risk (hi Viren, hi Claudia) cause those relationships to continually and rapidly deteriorate without looking back.

Callum has also had practice with Avizandum and Zubeia. As he points out to Ezran:

You forgave Zubeia. Who did you think gave the order for Runaan to kill Dad? But somehow you got past that. You forgave her, because everything was complicated. Humans, dragons, elves. We've all made mistakes. That doesn't mean we have to keep making them.

Callum also cares a lot about fairness. At first, he defends Runaan because he's being blamed, in Callum's eyes, for something he didn't directly do (destroying Katolis). Then they discuss things more directly, and Callum says the above. And while Ezran isn't wrong that killing Harrow would be enough on its own, I think we can clearly see that Ezran's anger and despair at feeling wildly out of control needs somewhere to go. He's not angry at Runaan solely because of the destruction of Katolis, but the destruction of his home is absolutely a contributing factor.

He wanted to kill/destroy Sol Regem in order to let out anger and exert control, but couldn't because the dragon was already dead. He was so focused on forgiving Zubeia and putting his feelings aside regarding Avizandum ("Everything Avizandum did was to protect Xadia" including murdering your mother) that the majority of his anger got channeled at a safer target: the assassin who directly did the deed (because Rayla defected, and Zubeia changed her mind). Who was already dead.

Basically: Callum points out that Ezran is holding Runaan uniquely responsible, and in a way that isn't particularly helpful or in line with Ezran's previous values: "This is exactly the cycle of violence you worked so hard to end." The cycle they both worked to end. If Callum had any complicated feelings about Runaan (as indicated in TTM) or about Zubeia / Avizandum, he worked through them a while ago, and given that Ez had done the same for 2/3, it's not an unreasonable expectation that Ezran would do the same. Harrow was Callum's dad too, after all.

Furthermore, Ezran is so angry that, according to Callum (who in many ways knows Ezran best), he isn't himself right now, either. Punishing Runaan by imprisoning him is not what Harrow would want and only serves to exacerbate Ezran's own worsening mental state and Rayla's to boot.

It's also not like Callum says that what Runaan did was okay, but that the situation was complicated, and Callum has faith that Ezran will do the right thing eventually in letting Runaan go. Literally, Callum just wants the man to not die and for Rayla's family to be together again because they can be. Especially in 7x02. He's not going to let Runaan die (because it'd hurt Rayla) anymore than he'd let Zym (because it'd hurt Ezran).

This is especially true given that the first shows of loyalty Rayla ever displayed towards either of them was 1) turning on her family (father) in order to protect him and Ezran, and 2) offering to fight against her family/people in order to save Harrow when she had literally only known these boys for a few hours, AND Callum's statement from 2x07 of "If we really want to change things, we can't just keep watching while humans and Xadia hurt each other." (More on 2x07 and 7x02 parallels here.)

If Callum (and Ezran) had chosen in 1x03 the way Ez is choosing in 7x02, they never would've left to return Zym to Xadia, period. After all, "why is there any moral confusion at all" about reuniting a family, a parent and child and allowing them to live their lives, when the parent has committed such terrible acts that took your father away from you? Kids shouldn't have to pay for "the choices their father made" (3x02) but "a life for a life"—one dead and one in jail forever while the person who ordered him to never faced any of your ire—is just "justice" after all.

That said, the slightly thornier decision (especially to Callum emotionally), I think, is his choice to betray Ezran as a result of defending Runaan, so let's get into it.

Betraying his brother

While on a certain level betraying Ezran means siding with Rayla, I do think that's a simplification. It's one both Ezran and Rayla tug at ("So you're on Ezran's side now" / "High Mage. We need you at this council meeting") with poor Callum in the middle, but I don't think it's a good reflection of the situation on either end because it's too simple, and both Ez and Rayla's framing/judgements are heavily clouded at first by their emotions.

I think Callum coming to bail Rayla and Runaan out, and offering to help her on the bridge, is far less about choosing sides as it is about Callum's fixer tendencies, which I've discussed before (in Nov 2021, christ it's been a while).

He is very solution oriented, sometimes to the point of obsession (leaping after Ezran in 1x06 and 4x01; forgetting Sol Regem is there in 3x01 in running to Rayla) and his anger most commonly comes out directed at the person he perceives as being an obstacle to Fixing the problem for himself/his friends. This fixer tendency is is also why he's such a caring considerate guy most of the time, manifesting in his desire to nurture and care for those around him, and closely tied to his pursuit of magic (so he can have agency/the ability to help).

He's devoted himself since learning about the coins to giving Rayla back her family, regardless of who that family includes, and regardless of what else is on the line. We see this repeatedly in 5x04 wherein he risks all of their lives to stay at the Great Bookery because once he gets fixated on finding a solution, he does not have an off switch, regardless — just like in 7x02 — of whether Rayla is asking him (never mind directly telling him not to) to help her.

Now, Runaan is trapped again, but it's not at Viren's hand (though Ezran, snapping at Soren to arrest someone despite the crownguard's hesitation, and his focus on security/power, isn't not acting like the former high mage) but his brother's. That's no good. And Rayla is more likely to fumble the bag without his help; this, plus the fact that Callum does agree with Rayla that Runaan deserves to be free, is why he willingly offers aid even before the situation escalates. It is also a parallel to Claudia ("You do anything for family." "It's too much to ask" "It's love" / "You don't have to ask. I would do anything for you") so no, I don't think it's meant to be entirely healthy either, because Callum's intensity often times gets people into more trouble, not less, but I digress.

As for the escalation itself: he can't just let get Rayla and Runaan on the boat, when the crownguard plus Soren and Corvus are actively chasing after them, and neither Rayla nor Runaan know sky/ocean magic or how to wield it, which is the only reason they get successfully away at all. He had to go with them to ensure their escape, for more reason than one.

But as stated: He is always going to pick the thing that gives him a solution to a Problem, and therefore pick the person with the problem that he thinks he can solve. And he tries, with Ezran to be clear, though more on that in a bit.

This fixer tendency is also why he's willing to repeatedly do dark magic, and why he's willing to sacrifice the simple quiet life that he wants if it means his loved ones get to live ("If you love them, Rayla, Ezran, all of them, you'll do anything to save them [...] It's not about you, is it?"). Rayla needed saving in 7x02, she was the one at physical risk, Ezran was not. Rayla was the one with an emotional problem Callum could easily solve (free Runaan = happy Rayla) and Ezran's was not (because it was more complicated).

And this is also why even once Ezran comes in with the Nova Blade in 7x09, presenting another way to defeat Aaravos, Callum is willing to through with doing dark magic even though he no longer needs to in the same manner, because if Ezran kills Aaravos, then:

AARAVOS: Your window is closing, dark mage. Act quickly, or the brave king and Dragon Prince will seal my fate, and set the world on fire. (7x09)

AARAVOS: Very soon, your brother will embrace dark magic to save those he loves. [...] I have seen it written in his eyes. (7x07)

This is also why he picks going to Ezran over trying to save Harrow in 1x03 ("I'm coming, Ezran!"—book 1 novelization), because he had no skills at the time to use to save Harrow, but he could get Ezran out safely.

He will always pick the person he can physically save, who needs saving in that moment, with whatever tools he has at his disposal, in whatever way he thinks is most likely to work. And no one comes above Rayla or Ezran to him. It's that simple.

Callum is also incredibly personal; he is rarely truly politically motivated. Ezran constructing the betrayal as "he betrayed all of Katolis" I can guarantee is not something that heavily factored into Callum's headspace as a concept, but he does frame it as a political betrayal (hence his resignation) rather than a personal one:

I'm sorry, Ezran. I can't be your High Mage anymore. But I'll always be your brother.

Whether that framing is correct is debatable, but given him and Ezran's talk at the end, I do think Callum comes to conceptualize/understand it as both. That said, Callum isn't the first one to disavow their 'brotherly' bond; in some ways, Ezran is, because he says that he needs his High Mage, not his brother. This is an important sticking point in some ways because Ezran and Karim are also being deliberately paralleled, and have been for seasons:

EZRAN: Sometimes it's hard, but when I struggle, I think about the people I love who are counting on me to do the right thing. Not the harsh thing, not the strong thing. The right thing. Do you love your sister, Prince Karim? KARIM: Wha-? I... Of course. She is leading our people down the wrong path, but she will always be my sister. EZRAN: Then you can still choose love. It's not too late. (6x07)

It's also worth noting that Ezran offers Karim and his people—blatant traitors to the crown of Lux Aurea and people who have tried to kill Janai multiple times—the option to "leave, and build your own future far away from here," which is what Runaan was planning to do befor he got arrested. That Ezran "looks into the face and hears the words of those he judges" (7x07) for Aaravos before he gives Runaan the same opportunity.

Furthermore, Karim is someone who completely disavows the personal to only focus on the political. His sister becomes a traitorous queen who he looks at only with contempt, despite stating "I love you sister, I always will"; his baby is not his child, but his heir. Ezran is not acting like himself/Callum's brother, but as his king, and that includes reaffirming/pulling rank ("I have to stop you. I'm sworn to King Ezran" / "Well, King Ezran, how determined are you to stop me?").

But Callum always treats Ezran like his brother, and does try to fix things, on Ezran's side. He goes to him in 7x02 and advocates for setting Runaan free and—as the person who first identifies the cycle in the series (1x02)—if Callum says something is perpetuating the cycle, he's probably 99% right. He is there to understand, accepts Ezran's anger, but also challenges it. It seems like maybe Callum is getting through to him (with Callum and Zym's framing being paralleled like, so incredibly on the nose) but then Runaan and Rayla are caught.

Ezran has the chance to do what Callum considers "the right thing" (and what Ezran does throughout all prior seasons) and let them go. He doesn't. Instead, he moves to arrest Runaan and Rayla and drag them back to the Banther Lodge by force... for what? Would that actually make him feel better? Or is it just giving him the means to feel control after feeling wildly out of control? He doesn't even go down to see Runaan at any point to see him suffer; he just wants to know Runaan is in jail and separated from his family.

Ezran is then also paralleled to Claudia further, specifically when Callum betrayed her by immobilizing her, because she didn't want her prisoner (the egg) to be taken and reunited with its family, either.

CLAUDIA: Callum, what are you doing? CALLUM: The right thing, I hope. I'm sorry Claudia. (1x03)

EZRAN: Callum, what are you doing? CALLUM: The right thing, I hope. (7x02)

Then Ezran threatens to kill him / risk killing him if Callum doesn't move out of the way, in an even more direct Janai-Karim and Soren-Claudia parallel. (Claudia's rage in the finale also lampshades this with Soren attempting it even less tbh, with "Were you really going to go through with it? Kill me, your sister? I could kill you both!"). The background guard lady even looks surprised after Ezran raises his hand, so the threat is more than apparent even to the characters within the setting.

AANYA: My next shot will be more than a warning.

But Ezran decides trying to kill/wrangle back Runaan is not worth killing or possibly his brother, and Callum reaffirms they are brothers and always will be, and leaves it at that.

This shift from political "king and high mage" to "we're brothers" is also directly stated/reaffirmed in their reconciliation scene as being the most important thing: "Because we're brothers." "Brothers," leaving whether Callum will be high mage again up in the air, but his place as Ezran's brother—and Ezran as his—is not. Callum is wiling to betray Ezran on one front, but refuses flat out to entirely relinquish the bond on any other. He hopes he's doing the right thing, and he hopes that even in doing so ("I know it was hard, but it was the right thing. You know that. I know you do") they can reconcile.

EZRAN: Callum. High Mage. We need you at this council meeting. (7x02)

CALLUM: It was okay to be angry, but I couldn't let the bad feelings stick. Because we were going to need each other. Because we're brothers. I still need you, Ezran. I know it's been a hard time, but I really hope— EZRAN: I need you, too. (7x09)

We also do see Callum support Ezran throughout both 7x01 and 7x02 (until he can't/won't)—embracing him (which Ez, in shock, does not return), following his orders to investigate with Corvus, explaining his side to Rayla, attending the entire meeting even after Rayla leaves, though he regrets it. What Callum is doing, therefore, is living in the moral confusion — the complicated nature of their complex lives of hurt and breaking the cycle — that Ezran is refusing to now that he's been set with a new challenge, willing to inflict pain on others because of the pain and loss Runaan had inflicted on him, and Callum knows this.

EZRAN: Violence, loss, pain. More violence. Stop! Stop. I just want to yell stop. But that’s not enough. It won’t work. I think about a positive vision, a faith we can all share, that we might build a future together in hope. A future where we can be safe with each other. But… It’s not that easy or simple. Because people are still hurting and they are still angry. We can’t ignore that, or pretend it will go away. Somehow, we have to hold it all in our hearts at the same time. We have to acknowledge the weight of the pain and loss, but open up our eyes and allow ourselves to hope and maybe forgive and love again.

CALLUM: No, that's not what I'm saying. It's just... It's complicated. (7x02)

CALLUM: The three of us have been through a lot together. We'll get through this too... right? [...] Give Ezran a bit of time to process all this. [...] Ezran will do the right thing. He just needs a bit of time to get there. (7x02).

CALLUM: You forgave Zubeia. Who do you think ordered Runaan to kill Dad? But somehow, you got past that. You forgave her, because everything was complicated.

AARAVOS: Childhood innocence gives way to something complicated. (7x02) / I have seen generations of humans and elves accept the darkness that lurks in all of us beside the light. There is no black or white, only shades of gray. We must all carry complexity. (7x04)

CALLUM: Dear Ezran. A few days ago, I started writing you a letter about how sorry I am that I hurt you, about how sad I am that there's a rift between us, and about how certain I am that somehow we'll find a way to repair things. (7x07)

EZRAN: I'm going to forgive you. I don't know how, but I have to try. (7x09)

So yes, Callum betrays his brother to protect their father's killer — the same way Callum betrayed his friend to reunite the person who ordered the hit with her child; the same way Ezran defended the murderer and explicit murder of his mother — because that killer is person is your best friend's father.

REX IGNEOUS: Or is the Dragon King too busy picking fights with little humans at the border? That was always his favourite sport: stomping on ants and calling himself a conqueror.

EZRAN: Everything Avizandum did was to protect Xadia! (4x08)

So just to sum up, Callum betrays Ezran for 4 main reasons:

If he didn't help Rayla break Runaan out, it was more likely something was going to go wrong (and he was right). If he didn't save her with the ice spell, she and Runaan were going to end up hurt and/or arrested or worse.

Callum is determined to treat her like family (even if Ez is not) and to break the cycle as they were instructed by Harrow, and as Ezran has done himself many times.

Rayla had an emotional and then physical problem that Callum Fixer McGee could fix; Ezran had an emotional problem that he was basically stonewalling Callum on.

Ezran had numerous other people in his corner to rely on (Zym, Aanya, Opeli, Soren, Corvus, Barius, his general guards, etc). Rayla had literally no one but her imprisoned father, all of her former friends and allies (Soren and Corvus) turning on her without question because the boy she was willing to lose a hand for told them to.

Rayla had greater need of Callum in the situation and in the moment, so his loyalty to her won out; if her and Ezran's situations had been reversed, Callum would've picked Ezran in that moment and situation without question, because that who he is. He picks whoever he thinks needs him more—over others, and over his own potentially hurt feelings.

None of this means, however, that Ezran didn't need his brother in S7. So let's talk about:

Why did Callum leave with Rayla?

There's the practical and the emotional ones, I think.

Practical:

As discussed, Rayla and Runaan wouldn't have made it in the boat without him. There is no way anything other than magic would've made it move fast enough to get away, and neither elf is inclined or aware enough of sky or ocean magic to make the boat go that way. Callum literally had to go with them.

If Callum had stayed, he would've likely been arrested himself, putting Rayla in a difficult situation of either sending Runaan off on his own to then bail Callum out, or leaving without him when he was in a bad situation. He wasn't going to do that.

If Ezran had arrested Callum, it also wouldn't have made him much happier or actually fixed anything. Callum might've (as in canon) apologized for hurting him, but Callum wasn't going to take back what he'd done, and this was probably just going to exacerbate Ezran's issues further.

At the time Callum left, Ezran wasn't focused on rebuilding Katolis and had made this plain. He was instead focused on collecting weapons, travelling to Duren and back to do so, and we only see him return to the castle's immediate surroundings when Aaravos shows up.

The emotional ones:

After 2 years of separation, and the only times they are separated usually being when Rayla is the most in danger, yeah, Callum doesn't want to be separated from her. She's his best friend and his life partner, and he and Ez have willingly & happily led far more separate lives for a while now (more on that in the next section). He wants to go with her. Sue him.

Callum believes that Ezran needs time to process his anger. He knew he wasn't able to get through to Ez, and that the betrayal would hurt him. It's not unlikely, then, that Callum thought time and distance would help, and that they could try to mend things later.

Katolis did not factor in (but I'll get to that in a bit).

Callum rarely experiences regret unless it puts the life of someone he loves directly in danger, and rarely questions the validity of his actions, especially when he think someone is wrong. (This is also why he'll never regret using the torture spell on Claudia, for example.)

Callum also knows Rayla and we see that, without him, Rayla would've dropped Runaan off at the Silvergrove and then immediately dipped. He wanted to go with her to emotionally support her and also knew that Rayla would let him vs not letting anyone helping her. Until Rayla is reunited with her family and let back into the Silvergrove, she does not have a support system outside of him; Ezran does.

As for having a good time at the Silvergrove... We see Callum's first day there, whereupon he's mostly focused on what Rayla and her family's situation is going to be. Runaan and Ethari make up for failing Rayla by giving her unconditional support and forgiveness, literally binding their fates to hers for the trial and supporting her when it doesn't go well and they think they'll be banished too. Callum has come all this way to reunite her with her village/family and considers her his family; yes, he's going to join in on the group hug and be happy when he's encouraged to. The next time we see them in the Silvergrove, it's been 2 weeks, and Callum is still a little awkward/nervous, but again, mostly focused on giving the family time to spend together and wanting to be integrated, because well...

CALLUM: Be with you. [Kisses her] Yup, I could do this. Pretty nice life. (7x05)

He wants a life with her; he likely has plans to marry and have children with her. It'd be like if Ezran wanted to have Zym around always and had issues with Zubeia constantly; it wouldn't exactly jive. Secondly, Callum's feelings about Runaan were always something I'd figure he wouldn't deal with directly right away, instead focusing on peace/Rayla, and then it would sneak up on him that it bothered him / was something he had to confront ("I just hoped, if I didn't think about it, maybe it wouldn't be true"). Less than one month passing in-show time with no real issues, especially with an entirely repentant Runaan? Yeah that's completely on brand to not be on screen because it'd only happen later.

In regards to Callum making peace and engaging more happily with Runaan... He's definitely not going to do anything else when 1) Runaan's not provoking him first and 2) in front of Rayla. Callum needing to adjust in the fic cited below (written by me and thosefiveadoraburrs in January 2020) semi-early into his relationship with Runaan is exclusively because Runaan is being a prickly asshole. Barring that, and even with that, the integration going smoothly is pretty easy for Callum at first because he's so focused/driven by his love for Rayla. Period.

"The point is that while I don’t care what you say about me, as I’ve heard far worse from other elves like you, Rayla does and you are still her father and she deserves to have you in her life and to have a good relationship with you. So when she’s not around, you can say whatever you want, even to my face. I don’t care and I don’t plan on rising to it anyway. But when she is around, you keep that shit to yourself, because it’s only going to upset her, and she’s been through more than enough.” [...] "You were so young," Rayla said, "so young, when you lost your family. And even if you’d been older, I don’t think their absence would hurt less, but I’m not surprised you notice it more because of how you had to grow up largely without them." [...] "It’s just… on any side," Callum said, "I can never just move on from what I’ve done, or what people think I’ve done, and I wish they would just let us be , sometimes. Without knowing that people think I should be regretting whatever decisions I’ve made, because they’re wrong. I never regret what they think I do.”

Furthermore, from my pre-S6 fic:

Halfway through [their chess game], though, Ez rubbed at his temples again, and this time Callum asked about it. “You okay?” “Yeah.” Ez frowned as he surveyed the board and then moved his rook. “It’s just Zym. Normally when we’re far away, our emotions don’t blur too much... But because we’re both stressed about the same thing...” “It’s a lot?” Ez nodded, picking up a pawn and then setting it down on the same square, considering. “There is one thing you and Rayla could do to help, maybe.” Callum thought of the Summit that would be a few days’ long trip to Duren and tried not to squirm in his seat. “Oh?” Please not... “Well, we finally got the go ahead for the Summit next week. And the rest of the Pentarchy might take the urgency of hiding the prison more seriously if you and Rayla came along,” Ez said. “Since you’re High Mage, and Rayla’s Xadian. Since we don’t have Zubeia to rely on.” “Yeah.” Callum focused on the board rather than Ezran’s expectant face, waiting for a yes he didn’t want to give. And what excuse could he offer, really? Ez would probably pushback if he just thought they wanted to make a beeline for the Starscraper because of the Nova Blade. Ugh. Two secrets at the same time was the worst. And he wasn’t about to drag Rayla out to Duren just to be a token Xadian when he’d spent that morning trying to convince her that putting her parents above other missions that weren’t hers was actually okay for her to do. “Well, let’s see,” he said, hoping that’d be enough. “Don’t have to rush into anything.”

“He saw the egg and he would’ve still killed both of us!” “You think I don’t know that?” “Then how you can not care?” Ezran cried, voice cracking. His nose was runny, eyes stinging again. He bit something back. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t lose this argument just because he was crying. There was a fire in his chest that couldn’t be doused. “I do care, but I also care—I care more about Rayla,” Callum countered, because of course that’s what he’d fucking say. Ezran turned away from him, rolling his eyes and not in the mood to see Callum gesture at him. “She’s our family, why isn’t that—” [...] “You had Opeli and the rest of the council,” Callum said. “Don’t you get it? We’re all she has, we have to be on her side, she doesn’t have—she loves him. And that's enough for me."

“[About betraying and abandoning Ezran to free Runaan] What’s done can’t be undone. We can’t take it back.” Rayla chanced resting a hand on his shoulder. She had to accept his honesty if she was going to ask the question. “Do you wish you could?” “No.” He finally looked at her. “But I wish it could’ve gone differently, I...” Softening, he took her hand from his shoulder, running his thumb over her knuckles. “You’re family,” he said resolutely. “I won’t forget that, even if Ez has.” [...] “So you think it was the right thing?” she prompted more softly. Callum sighed, angry again—but not at her. “I don’t know if there’s always a right thing to do, anymore,” he muttered, sitting in the spot she’d vacated on the bed. “You just... make the choices you can in the situations you’re in, because the alternatives are so much worse. Other paths that you won’t—that you can’t live with.”

But the big thing, I think, is that in Callum's head... nothing is more important than your closest interpersonal relationships. He's devastated by the loss of Katolis in general, yes—"Katolis was destroyed and that... that is devastating" and his sobbing before Soren finds him—because it was home, even if it was a home he never felt entirely at home in, due to his uncertainty with Harrow and place as a prince. But Callum also cries in 7x01 when he sees the king's tower has collapsed, and thinks he's lost Ezran.

In 1x06, Rayla gives her reason for travelling with the boys, yes, citing:

RAYLA: I could take it any time I want to. CALLUM: Then what's stopping you? RAYLA: Cause it as to come from you. Human princes returning the egg of the Dragon Prince, that's the gesture that matters. That's what could stop the war and change the world.

And it's not good enough for him (hence his angry little face persisting even after she explains) because that's not the reason he wants to hear. He wants to hear that she cares about them. That they're her friends, which is why that's precisely what he says to her on the ice before handing over the egg: "We're lucky to have you as our friend. I do trust you" even before he knows the truth about her binding. He wants the personal. Needs the personal. That's what matters. But that's not what Ezran draws on for any of their interactions. And if it's unfathomable to understand how or why Callum could walk away, then the good news is that said perspective ALSO made it into the fanon s6 fic through Corvus:

Corvus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can understand why the assassin would want to be free. I understand why Rayla would want him to be, too, and she loves the boys immensely. But I cannot understand Callum’s hand in it, the lengths he’s willing to go to. It is not as though he is the only one who could ever free the man. And Ezran is his brother and his king. His baby brother. [...] His responsiblity. It’s our duty as older siblings. He’s a sorry excuse for an older brother to just walk away like and abandon Ezran like that.”

Because in the "family member picks breaking the cycle even if that means leaving their younger sibling / more emotionally distressed family member behind (often with others to support them): The Show", such as Janai marrying a human + sparing the architect who had every opportunity to think about the pain she'd cause by putting out the soul flame of Yonnis' parent even when Karim thinks she's not focused enough on the destruction of their home; Soren leaving his abusive warmongering father and killing him even if it devastates Claudia; Astrid abandoning her brother/family to warn everyone about Aaravos; Rayla fighting Runaan on the battlements; Viren leaving Claudia on the beach show, surprisingly, there's going to be patterns that Callum and co. will fall into.

If you're interested more in Ezran's side of things, his emotional processing throughout the season / construction of his identity, and how/why he was perpetuating the cycle, you can check out this meta here.

For now, let's finally talk about the final real section of our meta, which is

Why did Callum resign as High Mage?

On the one hand, Callum's resignation shows that he does conceptualize what he's doing as a betrayal, as noted, and as something that would cause a rift, as verbally stated in 7x07. He "knew my leaving would hurt you" just the way that Rayla leaving him did so. He also knew that at this time, to him, it was necessary. He knows that he can't do this and stay on as High Mage. He also knows, at this point, that he doesn't want to be high mage.

Because "that was devastating, but that wasn't Runaan." Because Callum doesn't personally care about Katolis as a kingdom/castle, and quite honestly, he never has. Post-S3, when things would've been politically terse, as shown in Through the Moon, he was willing to leave Ezran in Katolis on one day notice to go have a vacation exploring Xadia.

And it's not the first time he's left Katolis on short notice with zero concern, doing so in 4x03 (whereas Soren goes as Ezran's sworn crownguard, and Ezran hesitates) solely because Ezran is leaving. It happens again in 5x01 when Ez is away with Soren and Corvus on his dragon diplomatic mission, with Callum making the plan to leave for the Great Bookery the night before and leaving very early in the morning, even though he's currently the highest ranking person at court. We see Callum's discomfort at court first hand in his opening scene in 4x01, showing immediate wariness about his position as High Mage and his lack of mind to political matters:

GUARD: High Mage Callum, the King's council is assembling in the throne room. CALLUM: Oh, pfft, you don't need to call me that. I-I know it's my official title but all that high mage stuff is so... stuffy. Just call me my normal name, Prince Callum. Or just, y'know, just regular Callum. [...] Okay, I'm sorry, now I don't remember what you came here to tell me.

After which he immediately delays going to the meeting to check in on his magic book coming in from Xadia, though it hasn't arrived yet. Rayla's arrival causes Callum to oversleep and be MIA for Zubeia's greeting, leaving Ezran to momentarily flounder till Soren steps in, though no one seems surprised or concerned that Callum isn't there, just awkward. He doesn't go with Ezran to deal diplomatically with any of the dragons either, leaving it entirely in Soren and Corvus' hands, and he has no concern over leaving in 6x01 either, while Ezran hides his sadness about all his friends leaving to go elsewhere (Soren and Zym for Zubeia, and Callum and Rayla for the Starscraper). He and Rayla go rogue over Janai's orders as well, leaving Janai to reflect, "I may be queen, but even I don't have the power to stop those two once they set their mind on something," which is such blatant foreshadowing it felt like neon lights were flashing in my face.

We see this thread steadily even from 1x01, whereupon Callum only reaffirms Harrow is the king as a wall up to thinking of himself as his son. Harrow being royalty was a hindrance to Callum being comfortable of thinking about him on an interpersonal level, not a help:

EZRAN: Why don't you just call him Dad? CALLUM: Because he's the king. And I'm his stepson.

which is also why Ezran talking about the burden of kingship with him in 7x02 goes over Callum's head, because Ezran isn't actually focusing on the fact their father is dead; he's focusing on how it forced Ezran to be king, and being king is so the opposite to how Callum operates, it was never going to click.

EZRAN: Our king. Our father. [Takes off his crown] I never asked for this. I wasn't ready to be a king. I'm just a kid.

And one of the reasons I say the opposite is because of everything laid out above, patterns wise, but also because of his Tales of Xadia bio, which states:

I'm beholden to my inner circle, not some silly kingdom.

There are also scenes from Dreamer's Nightmare which help reaffirm this, where Ezran states that "As princes of Katolis, it's our duty to put you all [citizens of the town] first," only for Callum 1-3 pages later argue for the complete opposite, because:

EZRAN: [When Callum wants to wait for their dad / the adults to wake up and solve things for the town] I'm going either way, but I'd really like to have someone come with me. Someone who's good at solving mysteries. CALLUM: Fine, I'll go. But only because I'm your big brother.

EZRAN: The whole town is in danger, Callum! Let me go! CALLUM: No! I have to keep you safe! I promised King Harrow [...] but I keep failing, and I'm just so scared you'll get hurt.

I don't think either of these supplementary materials are necessary though, to get this aspect of his across, given that scenes like this were written well before the latter came out, and Callum's entire Tales of Xadia bio just reaffirmed exactly how I and many others have seen him since S1 came out:

"And Ez doesn’t need my help,” Callum added more cheerfully. “If he needed me, he’d say so.” He said it with so much confidence it took Soren a second to tell if it was a joke or not, but no. The young mage honestly believed it. How was a good question, and the answer would’ve been more so, given everything. Those first few months after the war were crystal clear in Soren’s mind: Ez weathering the political waves alone, wearily drafting peace treaties and legislations while Callum scoured Xadia, searching for Rayla and growing more and more irate every time he returned home empty handed. The way Ezran had single handedly held him together, Callum unable or unwilling to truly confide in anyone but his brother. How Ezran had let Callum hole up with that stupid mirror for hours on end rather than eliciting magical solutions to everyday problems, because at least he was focusing on something other than heartbreak. How many council meetings Callum had skipped or been late to, never operating as acting-king when Ezran was away on diplomatic business. Callum’s temper on his 16th birthday reigning summer storms down on the castle for weeks straight. His lateness to Ezran’s meeting with Zubeia that Soren had stepped in for; the way it had been him and Corvus, not Callum, accompanying the young king to his entreatment of the dragons and Domina Profundis. Ezran’s steady, strong nature, the way he could be so silent and quiet it was easy to forget how young he was sometimes and how much he’d been through, how much he’d missed their friend and father and his childhood. It’s not fair you have to struggle through this alone. “Yeah,” Soren said quietly. “Sure.”

Callum does not care about being crown prince or high mage. He isn't focused on supporting Ezran as king; he's focused on supporting Ezran as Ez, as his brother. Those are separate things from being Harrow's son and Ezran's brother, even if they can overlap. He cares about Katolis on a certain level, yes, but not on a big one; he cares about it because he cares about Ezran. And Ezran asking Callum to stay in the meeting as High Mage was never going to work. If Ezran had asked him to stay as his brother, maybe — but Ezran doesn't.

CALLUM: I'm sorry, Ezran. I can't be your High Mage anymore. But I'll always be your brother.

And in typical Callum fashion, whether he goes back to being high mage remains to be seen, but he does put in the majority of the effort in their actual reconciliation. He approaches Ezran first, he's the one walking over, and the one who speaks first.

CALLUM: Hey. EZRAN: [Uncertainly] Hi. CALLUM: So I've been thinking about this toy banther I had when you were just a baby. I loved it more than anything in the world, and you broke it. EZRAN: And... you're bringing this up now? CALLUM: I was so mad. I said I hated you, and I would hate you forever. And Mom said that it was okay to be angry, but I couldn't let the bad feelings stick. Because we were going to need each other. Because we're brothers. I still need you, Ezran. I know it's been a hard time, but I really hope—

Callum loved that toy more than anything, and Ezran broke it, and he got over it, because he loves Ezran more. He's saying it's okay for Ezran to be angry (x2) and it's okay if Ezran hates him. Just that even if Ezran is, and even if Ezran does, Callum still loves him and needs him and considers him his brother. That he hopes they can reconcile.

And Ezran accepts it—much to Callum's surprise and then relief— because he never needed his high mage. He needed his brother, and that's what Callum still is—what they'll always be.

EZRAN: I need you, too. CALLUM: Brothers. EZRAN: Brothers.

Conclusion

Back when they were both children, Callum and Ezran didn't have anything to put above each other and the immediate proximity of their bond. However, the events in the first 3 seasons change this forever. Callum finds magic and falls in love, and Ezran returns home to be king, and gains Zym and his council as constant supports.

Ezran puts going home to be king above continuing to travel to Xadia. From there, they spend more and more time and seasons apart. This is similar to Soren and Claudia, who have an increasingly fractured bond, but who also know aren't doomed to be miserable because of their separation or betrayal; they forge new friendships, bonds, and sources of laughter. But neither set of siblings ever forget their love for each other, even if they grow and their priorities expand to include other things. For Ezran, Zym and his kingdom are incredibly important to him; for Callum, Rayla and the life they're building together, as well as stopping Ezran (or anyone) from causing permanent unnecessary harm to one another in their little family is also a priority.

None of this is to say that Callum's way of dealing with things is flawless, or that they won't have more conflict again in the future (I'd love it, although I expect there to be more of a focus on Ezran-Zym conflict going forward) but being a little flaky/unreliable in a political sense is just who Callum is, even if he will always come through on the personal manner in the end.

Sibling relationships are complicated, and they can both mutually fail each other and Rayla, and then still come back together in the end. And I'm very glad that they do.

Other fun details:

Callum's letter refers to the dragons as big help, a gentle nod to how Ezran described them in 3x08

Callum confirming that he babysat Ezran regularly growing up, which fits with Callum's tug of war between being a parentified older brother with his own immature / peer adjacent sides

Callum sits closer to Ezran at the council table once he's no longer high mage, whereas before he always sat further apart

Ezran is symbolically embroiled with fire throughout the season (king of ashes, the fire ruby plan, the Nova Blade having the risk of setting the world on fire, the fire in his eyes that are meant to parallel Aaravos' etc). Callum is associated with water, nabbing Rayla's water reflection motif in later episodes, and with greater emphasis on his connection to the ocean arcanum in spell usage and its links in dark magic. The two then meeting in the middle is interesting symbolically, to say the least.

#tdp meta #tdp callum #the dragon prince #tdp #analysis series #analysis #characterization #callum #two pillars #7x02 #multi #arc 2 #if anyone is rude on or about this post ur getting blocked #if u know you're not going to like or agree with it just don't read it #s7 #tdp broyals #predictions achieved

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