#i mean partly because of the fan service-y parts

[theoldworldsrunnerup]

us, having never finished Death Note and also having forgotten everything ever about it: hmm yes I want to make Light and L but if the Book Thingy never existed. They're autistic together actually...

you're the only death note mutual we have I think so. felt compelled to share

— muse 🖌

So real honestly. Like don’t get me wrong I love their canon dynamic but tbh I also enjoy aus where Light isn’t kira and works with L

[onewomancitadel]

i got your ask and i loved it! maybe the seasonal knightfall symbolism was the stuff we made up along the way.

i also wanted to say its so funny (terrible) to me how the idea that sometimes a character doesnt need romance (which i think is fine on its own! i think w/eiss is more empowered by rebuilding her existing family and having friends than she would be with a romantic interest for example) has been twisted so fucking awfully into "any female character i dont want to be happy/i think is getting in the way of my ship/is evil/etc doesnt need romance because she's powerful enough as it is :) im not misogynistic i just want women to be empowered!" im gonna start doing this with male characters actually. cmon guys s/un is cool amd strong enough as it is he doesn't need a love interest :)!! if the writers give him one its just ridiculous 🙄🙄

i just hate seeing people use good points to be fucking annoying to people who like things. i want cinder and salem and every bad evil naughty no good villain woman to get a romance now. and the men can too i guess 🙄🙄 (JOKING they need kisses too. looking at you merc)

if this is rambly im sorry its 2 am again (whoops)

(Now you can see where the previous post I made came from because I was on that seasons shit).

You make excellent points. I think the case with Weiss, though, is that it is actually a textual interpretation of her character, and her parallel with Qrow (her team S/TRQ analogue) is that their character arcs are largely connected to repairing familial relations (and their respective team partner Ruby-Summer). Weiss also gets a different play on Ozlem in her own story (as you pointed out she's almost an even split of their respective roles) which I think is partly being done to show how part of the weakness, say, both Ozlem have is that they don't have supportive, broader connections; Knightfall is the connective tissue, yes, but I do think Cinder being accepted back into the community (... dare I say with the elixir of life) is part of the key to her redemption holistically. But it's ultimately a cop out, otherwise, when this argument is employed, because as you can see it's not about Cinder's character or Cinder's desires.

The problem also here is that Cinder has no friends or family. The overtures of 'friendship' has failured her. How can an orphan have the same character arc as Weiss? It's just nonsensical. Romance for her has been set up as the answer. It has not been dismissed, not at all. Calculatedly so there is a gap in her narrative waiting to be filled.

im gonna start doing this with male characters actually. cmon guys s/un is cool amd strong enough as it is he doesn't need a love interest :)!! if the writers give him one its just ridiculous 🙄🙄

Lol ikr like come on. Make way boys. Then again I've literally seen people say this about Jaune, but Jaune's a special case because he's a victim of being the wrong sort of male character since he has a unique superpower and is my favourite and I am being persecuted in particular.

Jaune if you want narrative armour to protect you from fans being stupid you need to take your shirt off like Sun. (This is the future feminists want).

i just hate seeing people use good points to be fucking annoying to people who like things.

I mean, it's not even really a feminist talking point though, that's the problem, or if it is it's severely misunderstanding the literature. The problem itself is not romantic love, it's a female character being unable to grow beyond that or have her own character. Where I think a real issue is, is so often what we call 'romance' is little more than narrative boon. Narrative boon is itself not the problem: but she acts as a doll-prize, with no crafted character arc, with no justification, with no anything. The romance is not servicing the narrative.

So it's a genre problem.

If anything the argument here I defer to is one of technical weakness, as opposed to simple gender criticism, because I think if you can't write female characters you cannot write holistic characters (and this goes for everyone else). What I think is a serious issue that is overshadowed by discussing fiction as opposed to our actual lives is, you know, what is the role of romance in our own lives? How do we build our lives around it? How do we celebrate reciprocal love? One might say that the objectified portrayal of women in these types of objectified romances comes from the idea that women's needs, desires, and wants are ultimately accessory. The desire is not for reciprocal romance. This is exactly why anons who are bad-faith arguing with me cannot conceive of Knightfall because they don't know what romance actually is. (Take note of the sense of owedness in some of the bad faith anons; this sense that love is transactional, that love is something you are owed, not a gift that is shared, that it is something that is kept as punishment).

Or, were I not arguing from the angle of critical cultural reflection, I might just say they don't... know how to write interrelated character growth that so happens to involve romance. But they do that fine enough in buddy cop shows and film - which is probably the most structurally analogous to romance - so there's something deeper going on here.

In Weiss' case there is a deliberate theme of her Summon - her own familial Semblance - being the one to 'free' her, along with her friends. Given the fact that we have so many other romances that seem inevitable, tying her emotional development - GIVING her that emotional development, not abnegating her - to her family is actually really successful. It means that Weiss can have love central in her life, different types of love, and it gives you narrative space to explore why romantic love is meaningful. It's possible to do with an ensemble cast.

In Cinder's case, romantic love is what's needed. It's got to be one person in particular who can help her. Not just anyone. It's got to be epic and no holds-barred. If anyone could help her, why didn't it happen sooner?

i want cinder and salem and every bad evil naughty no good villain woman to get a romance now. and the men can too i guess 🙄🙄 (JOKING they need kisses too. looking at you merc)

🥺 Jaune can have little a kiss as a treat? And Mercury. Oh, we've not even started on the discourse of Emerald's love for him helping him redeem himself. Well guess what: his love for her already helped free her. 🥰 Now she's going to realise it 🥰 and that gift will be returned twicefold, tenfold, a thousandfold 🥰 since there is no numerical way of quantifying it, as it's magical and special 🥰 and then 🥰 I wonder what OTHER ENEMIES-TO-LOVERS ROMANCE THIS COULD SET UP. I WONDER WHAT OTHER ENEMIES-TO-LOVERS ROMANCE THIS COULD

[koko-bopp]

Are You?

kim dongyoung x gender neutral!reader

word count – 1.6K

genre – Soft-Angst

warning(s) – mentions of cheating, insecurity, crying

synopsis – Doyoung's been busy, and as much as you convinced yourself that it wasn't a big deal, part of you just really starved of having him around as often as he used to.

There were some unwritten rules when it came to the relationship you had with Doyoung. You were both idols, quite famous ones at that, so you both knew the struggles of maintaining a romantic relationship in a world where you’re constantly on demand.

Doyoung likes to joke around by saying that his manager is more clingy than you are. 

However, one of the rules is that jealousy is an emotion that needs to lack in this relationship, and be replaced by trust. Both your jobs require you two to interact with many people, and you’re literally being paid to look attractive and provide fan service, so there are always things that cameras, people and tabloids try to manipulate for money and publicity.

Though, just because it was a rule, doesn’t mean it eliminates the emotion.

Recently, tabloids and gossip blogs had been going crazy about a live stream that Doyoung was in. Unknown to everyone except his company and you, Doyoung was working on a solo album, featuring a fairly new artist in in the k-pop world.

Maybe you were overthinking everything, they didn’t actually kiss. They were just renacting the choreography of Blood, Sweat & Tears and the part where Suga and V did that little close to the face thing, plus the lowkey choking... You were just going to tell yourself that you were reading too much into it. Doyoung is an idol, and the newbie is just his friend. 

But, then again, there were so many gossip blogs talking about how close they were. Doyoung had to even tweet that the solo artist and him weren’t dating or romantically involved in any way.

Maybe the almost-kiss was the last straw for your brain to go into code red mode. Maybe your body was affection-starved and to think that Doyoung was giving his attention to someone else... that hurt a bit.

"Jagiya?"

You ignored the voice.

"Jagi?"

Again.

"[Y/N]?"

"What?" You almost snapped, yet it still sounded angry.

"I–" Doyoung told himself he had to think of his next words, so spoke as calm as he could, "You've been in the studio for six hours. I just wanted to–"

"–Doyoung," You interupted. You didn't know if it was too much of a leap to jump to conclusions, but you really couldn't bottle up the thought for much longer. "Are you cheating?"

Doyoung had to take a second to laugh, no laugh that was to rash or drastic, but he actually thought you were joking. There was no way he genuinely heard that right. It took him another second to notice the saddened and worried look on your face, so he immediately stopped to widen his eyes, “Jagi, it’s not funny,”

"I asked you a question," You said, rather sternly.

Doyoung properly entered the room so both feet were firmly planted on the timber of your studio. He closed the door behind him, as if making sure, despite that nobody else was in the apartment, nobody was able to hear the conversation. "No," Doyoung frowned, "You're making an accusation. Rather stupid one, might I add.''

You replicated his frown, crossing your arms as you sat in your seat, "Are you going to answer the–"

"[Y/N]." Doyoung stopped you immediately, using your name as the halt button as he put a finger onto his chest, "Never. I would never fucking cheat on you. You're the best fucking thing that's happened to me, and I'd be a whole dick and a half if I willingly got rid of everything we are."

You know when you're trying not to cry, but your body is starting to choke out a tear, and you're trying to suppress it as much as you can, so your jaw starts to tense and you swallow a little too hard, and your voice comes out too soft.

"If this is about how close I am with one of the boys or the artist that I'm collabing with–" Doyoung took a quick and breath. He wasn’t sure if he should apologize, part of him was telling him not to; none of his actions were intentional, yet another part of him was saying that he should... He dropped his hand from his chest, resting it at his side and lowering his gaze to the floor under your feet. "[Y/N]... You should've talked to me.."

You wanted to honestly just wrap yourself I to a blanket and stay there for a while, partly because... He was right. Talking to him would've been difficult, but it would've let to the situation being resolved much more diplomatically.

Doyoung took a step forward, leaning down in front of you on his knees. He placed a hand over yours, gripping it tightly to remind you that he was here.

"Honey," Doyoung said, "Honey, look at me."

You refused to, and honestly, there were tears threatening to fall from your eyes. Your neck tensed to stop the action, but instead your body reacted in a way that two years had dropped onto Doyoung's bare arm.

His eyes widened a bit, guilt immediately washing over his whole body, "Baby, oh god, please don't cry, I'm so–"

"No," you sniffled, bringing the sleeve of your hoodie up to wipe away the tears, "You don't have a reason to be sorry. I was overreacting, I know you love me.."

"I do. I swear to God I do." Doyoung smiled sadly, gripping your hand harder but also lovingly.

You swallowed your excess emotions before looking at Doyoung properly, "I think... I think I just really missed you; and you being busy, I didn't think it was a reason enough to complain.."

Doyoung leaned forward to place a small yet loving kiss on the top of your head. The sensation made you giggle, but your reaction made him smile.

He pulled back, holding your cheeks in his palms, looking at you so fondly, "We're cuddling tonight, whether you like it or not," he spoke in a jokingly demanding voice, one that resulted in a chuckle from you. He continued, "I love you."

[breanime]

Tiny Little Increments (Part Four)

Warning: some slight steam! And this one’s a little longer to make up for the shortness of Part Three. I hope you enjoy!

*gif by @bilyrusso* (I think? I had it saved in my computer for this chapter, I hope it’s yours!)

Your heart stopped. Logan got out of his car—a cherry red Ferrari that purred like a fucking kitten—wearing a white button-up and black slacks, hair impeccably styled, and a grin on his face. Frank’s back was to you as you stood behind him on the porch, but you could practically feel him pricing Logan up.

“Hey Y/N!” Logan greeted you cheerfully. “You look great!” He stopped when he approached the gate. “You must be…”

“Frank,” your father said, thrusting his hand out for Logan to shake, “Y/N’s father.”

“Barely,” you interjected drily. You turned away, partly to tell the kids you were leaving, and partly to avoid having to see Logan shake hands with your father. “Kids, I’m leaving!” You called out, slamming the door shut before any of them could rush out, though you did see Cam, Emma, and Ethan in the window watching you. “Come on,” you said, taking Logan’s arm and trying to lead him away.

“Well, hold on, now,” Frank said, coming to stand beside you and peering over at Logan. “Just what exactly are your intentions with my daughter?” He asked.

Logan opened his mouth to answer with what you could only assume was a colorful and fully uncensored response, but you spoke before he could. “I’ll be back in an hour,” you lied, “so go get drunk somewhere else, and don’t bother the kids.”

“They’re my kids,” Frank pouted.

 “Only by blood,” you muttered, “Just go, Frank, please.”

“Hold on a minute,” Frank said, coming to stand in front of you and sticking his finger in your face, “I think it’s my right, as your father, to make sure you’re safe and that this guy knows how to treat you. So,” he turned to Logan now, “Logan, that come with a last name?”

  “Frank…” you began.

  “Delos,” Logan answered, “Logan Delos.”

Frank’s red eyes widened, and you knew that meant he knew that name. “Of the Delos Corporation?” He asked, practically salivating. “The multi-millionaire company with all that stock in robots and A.I?”

 “That’s the one,” Logan nodded.

 Frank turned to you. “Do anything he wants, Y/N,” he ordered seriously.

You felt Logan stiffen beside you, and you felt a wave of mortification go through you. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, your father wouldn’t do for cash—for drugs, which included selling you out when the opportunity arose, apparently—and you wanted to sock him right in his wrinkled, greasy face, but that wasn’t a good way to start a date.

“You’re kind of a piece of shit, aren’t you?” Logan asked, breaking the silence. He didn’t seem offended or incensed; he was just stating a simple fact. He seemed curious, actually.

Frank only grinned. “Where do you think she gets it from?”

“Okay,” you said with yet another eyeroll “Come by tomorrow and I’ll think about letting you take a shower,” you compromised, putting your hand on Frank’s back to move him forward and out of the yard, “You smell like a brewery in a zoo.”

He muttered a few things as he walked away, turning back every few seconds to glance back at Logan and the car.

“I see where you get your looks from,” Logan joked, opening the car door for you.

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a laugh, “My looks, my pre-disposition to addiction, my general distrust of the human race,” you shrugged, “My genetics are the gift that keeps on givin’.”

“Hey, I’m a fan of your fucked-up genetics,” Logan said back, leaning over and kissing you.

“So,” you smiled, “Where are you taking me tonight?”

He revved the engine, and you felt the soft vibration underneath your thighs. “To Pound Town,” he answered, flashing you a pleased grin when you rolled your eyes at him. Laughing, he put a hand on your leg, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the simple gesture. “And also to a hotel suite where we can be as loud as we want. Oh—and they have room service, so we won’t even have to leave the room all night.” He glanced over at you; dark eyes gleaming. “You are staying the night, aren’t you?”

You leaned back, smiling. “I haven’t decided yet,” you teased, “I guess it kinds of depends on how many orgasms you give me.”

“That’s all I have to offer, sweetheart,” Logan said back, “Smiles and orgasms.”

You laughed—Logan was definitely a good time. You talked as he drove you; he asked you what the kids were up to tonight, and he told you about the guy he had to do business with the other day. Things were going well…

…and then you pulled up to the hotel.

It was easily the most expensive building in the city, and your jaw dropped at the sight of it. A valet opened your door for you, and Logan led you inside, grinning all the while. The lobby looked like something out of a dream, all bright lights and soft golden decorations. It was huge, full of people dressed to the nines, and you felt a little out of place.

Logan put his arm around your waist, leading you to the elevator. “I rented a suite on the top floor, we’ve got a private pool, twenty-four hour staff, and soundproof walls.” He leaned down, mouth on your ear as the elevator doors closed, “But I’m thinking it’d be wise for us to…” His arm slid down to your ass, “…test that.”

You turned to him, moving so that your mouth was on his. “Before or after dinner?” You asked. “Because I can wait on food if I get to eat you, first.”

Logan sighed before leaning over and kissing you. “Fuck,” he whispered, “I’m trying to wine and dine you, here. You’re making it hard for me.”

You pushed up against him, pressing your front against his growing hard-on. “That’s the point,” you grinned back. The elevator dinged, and you stepped back with a chuckle, hearing Logan’s soft “fuck” behind you as you stepped out. He took your hand—another soft gesture that you weren’t quite sure how you felt about—and led you down the hall to your room.

“Here we are,” he said, opening the door for you.

Once again, your jaw dropped. It wasn’t so much a room as much as a fucking apartment, fully furnished with a set table in the middle of the room, a bottle of champagne resting in a bucket of ice.

“Jesus,” you said, dropping your purse to the ground and walking around, “This place is ridiculous.” You went to the table and picked up a plate. “How much does this cost? It looks like it’s more than I spend on food in a month—and I have five kids to feed!”

Logan laughed, taking the plate and putting it back down. He pulled you back by the waist before pulling your chair out. “Have a seat,” he instructed you softly, kissing you on the top of the head, “Get whatever you want from the menu,” he said as he moved to sit across from you.

You looked down at the menu laid out in front of you. Several of the dishes sounded disgusting, another handful had names you couldn’t even pronounce, but some sounded delicious. “Can I take whatever I want from the hotel?” You blurted out.

Logan laughed again. “Or I could just buy you your own set of plates.”

“I don’t take charity,” you answered back easily, “Just plates. And silverware,” you looked around, “and maybe some of the glassware. Definitely the shampoo and soap and toilet paper.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Now seems like a good time to ask you about your parents.”

“Pop the champagne,” you said, “and I will.”

Logan did, then he took your order, and put it in with the front desk. He sat down across from you once he got off of the phone and smiled. “So… Frank?”

You sipped your champagne, and it tasted expensive. “Frank’s an alcoholic, drug addict, compulsive liar, narcissist… The whole package.”

“How’d you end up taking care of the kids? And the house?”

You shrugged. “My mom was always in and out, she’d stick around long enough to get pregnant and have the babies, and when she left, it was up to me to take care of them.” You licked your lips; you usually didn’t talk about your family life with the guys you hook up with, but… Logan was genuinely asking, genuinely curious. “She’s an addict, too, so even when she was around…she wasn’t. And Frank,” you took another sip, “he’s always been in love with himself, the bottle, and the needle, and not exactly in that order. He used to go on these long drug binges with no warning, and me and Jeremy would have to watch over the house and kids.”

Logan leaned forward. “How’d you do it?” He asked.

“Do what?”

“Do…this.” He gestured over at you. “Raise five kids and take care of the house and manage your dad.”

“I dunno,” you put your glass down, “It had to be done. It’s no big deal.”

“But it is,” he said, “I don’t… I don’t get how you could do all of that. I mean… You’re smart, funny, gorgeous, resourceful—”

“—How do you know I’m smart?” You laughed. “We just met.”

“Well, you’d have to be to raise five kids on the budget that you have,” he answered, honest as ever, “But also… I looked you up.”

You shook your head, thrown off. “You—you looked me up? How? Like, you Googled me?”

“No,” he took another drink, smirking now, “My company has a new, more intricate search engine—it’s coming out next year, it’s gonna blow Google out of the water.” He put his glass down. “I found a bunch of articles about your grades and how smart you were and how everyone in your neighborhood was rooting for you. I also read you got a few scholarships to go to college…”  He went on, and you took a breath as you listened to him detail your life. “But you didn’t go.”

You took your drink and swallowed as much of it as you could. “Yeah,” you said simply.

“Why not?”

You shrugged one-shoulder. “No time.”

“Because of the kids?” He pressed. “Or your Dad?” He sat back. “Because if it were me, I’d take my chances at college.”

“Yeah,” you said back, “but it’s not you.” You put your hands on the table to keep from moving them too much as you spoke. “I couldn’t do college and take care of the kids, leave them to the dogs—to Frank. Liam’s only a baby, and Emma and Cam need someone stable. I would do anything for them,” you said, meaning it with every fiber of your being, “So the decision wasn’t hard. If I have to choose between me and them, I’d choose them every time.” You reached over and grabbed the bottle, pouring yourself another drink. “Those kids are my life, Logan.”

“See, I just don’t get that,” he said, “The way things work in my family, you’re on your own. You do what’s best for you—or at least what’s more fun for you, and that’s it.”

“Yeah? What’s your family like?” You raised an eyebrow when he made a face. “You told me you’d tell me about them.”

“Yeah,” he smiled, shaking his head, “I did… My Mom’s been on every prescription pill ever made—which I get, she’s married to my Dad and those opioids make you feel fucking fantastic. My Dad’s an ass; he’s hated me since the womb, I’m sure. He says I’m a perpetual fuck-up.” Logan shrugged. “He’s not exactly wrong.”

“It looks like you’re doing pretty well for yourself to me,” you said, looking around the hotel.

He laughed. “I’m good with people, what can I say?” He took another sip. “But the addict apple doesn’t fall far from the addict tree,” he confessed easily, “I’m two years sober—heroin was my drug of choice—but every time I speak to my father, he never misses a chance to tell me that it won’t last.”

You frowned. Here he was, in a posh ass hotel suite after spending at least three figures on groceries for a girl he’d just met, being casually open and honest, and his Dad treats him like that? That wasn’t right. “Your Dad sounds like a piece of shit.”

Logan’s eyes grew wide before he let out a laugh. He raised his glass. “I completely agree, and may I say… So is yours.”

You held up your glass. “To shitty fathers and absent mothers,” you toasted.

“Cheers,” Logan said, clinking his glass with yours. There was a knock on the door, and he got up to answer it. He led two waiters in, and you watched, mouthwatering, as they placed your food in front of you.

“Oh my God,” you said as the waiters walked out and Logan sat in front of you, “This smells amazing.”

“The head chef here is from France,” Logan said, leaning back with a smile, “He’s a much better cook than a lay.”

“The opposite of me,” you grinned, licking your lips. You looked up at Logan. “I’m warning you now, the way I’m about to eat this… I won’t look like a lady.”

He laughed, and gestured to your plate. “Have at it.”

You dug in, your mouth watering as the delicious mix of flavors and spices hit your tongue. You closed your eyes and moaned at the first swallow, and Logan was watching you when you opened them again.

“Shit,” he said, eyes burning your skin with how intensely he was watching you, “You’re so goddamn sexy.”

“If you think that was sexy,” you grinned, “Wait until you see me eat dessert.”

By the time you two had eaten, sent the dirty dishes to the kitchen, and had dessert, you were feeling buzzed and full and unexpectedly comfortable in a way that was simultaneously scary and intoxicating. You were sitting on the L-couch now, with your head on Logan’s shoulder and his arm around you. His other arm was on your thigh, fingers lazily caressing the exposed skin as the two of you talked.

“So,” you said, snuggling closer to him—a move that was foreign to you, but felt natural, “You saw Ethan at a gay club?”

He chuckled. “He said we had to keep that between us,” he answered, “but I guess he caved faster than I thought.”

You shrugged. “I cornered him. Ethan’s the easiest one to break, you want a challenge, try to get a secret out of Jeremy or Emma.”

“So you’re not mad?”

“Nah. I knew he was gay. I just didn’t know he was going to gay clubs,” you bit your lip as you looked up at Logan. “What are those places like?”

“The one Ethan was going to was way too old for him,” Logan said, “Cocktails are good, but it’s mostly older guys trying to trap a younger kid. The place I recommended for Ethan is mostly guys his age with fake IDs. It’s run by this old queen and his husband, and they don’t let older guys in at all. I used to go there whenever we were in Chicago when I was a teenager.”

Huh… “Thanks,” you said.

Now it was Logan who shrugged. “No problem. He’s a good kid. I don’t want him to have to go through what I had to go through when I was his age.” He looked down at you. “I meant what I said earlier: I like your siblings.”

There it was again, that spark of electricity in your spine that only happened when you were with Logan, or thinking about Logan, or around Logan… “And… You like me.” You said, voice a little unsure.

Logan pulled back, an eyebrow cocked. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Yeah, but…” You shook your head. “But you didn’t have to do all this,” you gestured around you, “And you didn’t have to get groceries for the house or let the kids take your car, or…”

“I did that stuff because I like you,” he answered easily, “I like the way being around you makes me feel,” he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I like how you don’t take shit from anyone,” he kissed your nose, “I like how you take care of your brothers and sister,” his mouth was hovering over yours now, “I like how your pussy curves around my dick…”

You didn’t need to hear anymore. You leaned forward and kissed him, hard. Logan kissed you back, wrapping you in his arms and flipping you so he was on top of you. Your hands went under his shirt, scratching at his bare back as his tongue slipped in and out of your mouth. Kissing Logan was unlike anything you’d known before; it was breathtaking and heart stopping and exhilarating all at once. He fit against you like a puzzle piece, he moved against you as if he’d been doing it his entire life, his body rolling and moving with yours as if you were in a dance. He was the perfect partner.

Wordlessly, because what else need to be said, Logan picked you up and carried you to the bed. You vaguely registered how soft it was; it was like lying on a cloud, but your mind couldn’t even spare more than a second to recognize its softness because Logan was kissing and caressing you and taking your clothes off and it was all too much. You closed your eyes and let yourself melt into Logan, because even if this couldn’t last—and it couldn’t—you could at least enjoy it in the moment, and deal with reality in the morning. Until then, you enjoyed the feel of Logan on top of you, his mouth on yours, the groans and sighs coming from his mouth as he pushed inside of you, the stretch of him, the way he filled you to the brim and had your toes curling. His mouth was against your ear now, and you could hear every moan and whimper that came from his sweet lips as he rocked against you. Your nails were digging into his skin; if this was your last hurrah with him, you were going to leave a mark.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hips slamming into yours with delicious fervor, “sweetheart, I… Jesus…”

“Don’t stop,” you panted, kissing the side of his face, “don’t stop, don’t stop…”

Logan growled in your ear, and the noise alone (and the rhythmic slamming of his hips) was enough to put you over the edge. You came with his names on your lips, and Logan followed closely behind you, spilling into you with a shout.

He kissed you, slowly, as he pulled out. “How are you real?” He whispered.

You grinned, one hand going into his hair, playing with the thick strands. “How are you?” You asked back. You giggled when he answered you with a kiss. You were still short of breath, but you weren’t ready to sleep yet. “So…” You said, smiling up at Logan, “You said something about a pool…?”

“Did you bring a bathing suit?” He asked.

Your smile only widened. “Nope.”

“Perfect,” he grinned back, jumping up and grabbing a blanket. “Let’s go.”

“What are you—” You laughed in the middle of your sentence as Logan wrapped you up in the blanket. What kind of man had that kind of energy after an orgasm? Your—this kind of man, apparently. You let Logan lead you out of the suite and down the hall to the pool, only stopping to giggle at each other, shush each other, and make out along the way. It was, as Logan had previously said, a private pool, so no one else was there. It was huge, and the sound of the moving water echoed in the large space.

Logan dropped the blanket that had been wrapped around the both of you, showing how hard and ready he was. “Can you swim, superstar?”

You answered by jumping into the pool. Of course you could swim; your father had thrown you into the lake when you were a kid to win a bet with some of his friends. You’d had to swim or drown, so… You came up and grinned at Logan. He was staring down at you like you hung the sun. “Come on in,” you said, waving him in, “The water’s fine.”

“Not finer than you,” he grinned back before jumping in after you.

You giggled as he swam to you, his perfect hair and toned body dripping with water. He lifted you up, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. You kissed him, your body molding against his, and you could feel his hands gripping your ass.

The two of you moved in tandem, hips rolling together in perfect sync as he carried you over to the wall of the pool. The brick felt warm against your back—or maybe that was just Logan. Your body felt hot and tingly every place he touched you, and you sighed, head leaned back as Logan kissed your neck. He was so close to you, but you wanted—needed—him closer. You didn’t say a word, but Logan heard you all the same. He slid into you, confident in the very correct fact that you were still wet from before, and you both moaned at the contact. Neither of you spoke, once again dissolving into sighs and moans as you moved together. Never had you had a lover like Logan, a man who could read you the way he did, who could make your toes curl with one thrust of his hips or flick of his wrists. He took his time with you, taking you to the heights of your pleasure before bringing you back down with kisses and soft touches along your body. The only thing you said were “yes” and “Logan”, and the only things he said were “so good”, “so perfect”, “baby, my baby”, and you closed your eyes, feeling Logan inside you and the water around you, and you, for a series of moments, forgot about all your problems: the bills, your shitty parents, the stress of running a household and raising five kids. You put all your focus on Logan, on making him feel as good as he made you feel, determined to show him how much his presence in your life meant to you—not just the suite and the cars and the nice food, but just… him.

You liked him.

And that was dangerous.

“Baby,” he whispered, voice echoing in the open pool, “I’m gonna cum, you feel so good…”

“Cum for me,” you growled, rocking your hips against his.

He dropped his head down, biting into your neck as he came, and you clenched around him, mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure as you came with him, eyes squeezed shut as the sensations hit you over and over again.

Logan sighed, putting his forehead on yours, and kissed you softly. He’d been kissing you like that for most of the night, soft and slow and careful and sweet. You liked it a lot, but you couldn’t let yourself get used to it. However, for one night, you could at least enjoy it. “Jesus, Y/N,” he said between kisses, “You keep doing shit like this, I might have to move you out to New York.”

You laughed. “My family in New York? Cameron would set the city on fire.”

“Hm…” Logan was staring at you now, dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity you hadn’t seen before. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he leaned over and kissed you again. “Let’s go shower all this chlorine off,” he said, kissing your neck, “and then after I fuck you there, I can fuck you in the bed…” He pulled back, eyes twinkling. “…Cause you’re spending the night, right?”

You put a finger on your chin and pretended to think. Logan kissed up your neck and across your face, making you laugh. “Okay, okay,” you giggled, “Yes—I’m spending the night!”

“Yay!” Logan cheered, bouncing up and down with you still in his arms, splashing water everywhere. “I knew my amazing cock would convince you!”

You laughed all the way back to the suite.

After your joint-shower, you spent the night in Logan’s arms, kissing and fucking and whispering to each other. The bed was huge, with an unbelievably soft mattress, feather-stuffed pillows, and silky sheets.

“So,” Logan had one hand behind his head, and the other on your back, rubbing up and down as you laid half-on top of him, “You don’t ever want to leave Chicago?”

“Nah,” your eyes were closed, and you got closer to sleep as Logan’s warm fingers caressed you, “This is my home.”

“Yeah, but… You’ve lived here your whole life, right?” He asked. You nodded against him. “Don’t you want to try something new?”

You frowned. Honestly, you hadn’t thought about leaving the city since you were a kid, and even then, it wasn’t so much about Chicago as it was your parents—and getting the hell away from them. “I mean, I guess I wouldn’t mind trying something new…”

“When you were in high school,” Logan turned, one of his hands going to your waist to keep you close, “and you were getting all those scholarships and stuff and thinking about going to college, what did you want to study?”

You shrugged. “I knew I wasn’t going to be able to go…”

“Yeah, but if you had,” he prompted.

“I guess I would have studied business,” you answered, “I used to love my econ classes and business courses and stuff in high school…”

“New York has some of the best business programs in the world,” Logan said back.

“Mm hmm,” you snuggled closer to him, kissing his chest as he wrapped you up in his arms.

“You could still do it, y’know.”

“Do what?”

“Go to school, get a job in business…”

“And take care of the kids?” You would have rolled your eyes if they weren’t closed. “And the house? And Frank?”

“It’d be easier if you left Chicago…” Logan’s voice was starting to sound low and far away. “…There’s a lot more opportunities in New York, you could intern at Delos…”

You giggled. “Okay,” you said, “that’s nice, but I’m gonna pass out now, okay?” You felt Logan kiss the top of your head, and you sighed contently into his chest.

“Just think about it,” he said, rubbing your back again.

You wanted to ask ‘think about what’, but you were too tired and happily worn-out to speak anymore, so instead, you just let Logan’s soft touch lull you to sleep.

Tomorrow, you’d go back to reality, but tonight… You’d enjoy Logan and what you had with him while you had him. All this talk about families and jobs and New York made you realize something…

…Logan would only be in town for a few more weeks, what time you had left with him was already running out. He’d finish up his business in Chicago and then… He’d be gone.

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

Let me know what you guys think! I got a lot of inspiration for this one from Season 1 Fiona/Steve.... ah, the good ol days. Anyways, thanks for reading!

Taglist: @lexxierave @loveintheroyalfamily @suchatinyinfinity@fanfictionrecommendations-com  @maxslime-blog @elanor-of-imladris @songforhema @lucielandss @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @themadhatter92@realduckvader @the-blind-assassin-12 @christinawxxx @anabella-baby @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @luminex3 @littlemermaidprobz @ashkuuuu @luckysstrikes @carlaangel86 @floralpeaceofmind @dylanobrusso @teacuplotus @iaintnofurry @thesumofmychoices @ymariejp @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @mrsjaxtellerfan @whovianayesha @holamor @drinix @rhabakoli @stories-you-wont-hear@king4thesirens @starkrobb @marauderskeeper @charlylama I also realized I haven’t been tagging @banditthewriter @something-tofightfor @binbons-is-theloml Sorry guys!

TLI Taglist (let me know if you want to be added/removed from this list): @blamebritney @absentmindeduniverse @songtoyou @haslett627@saltyshaggymeme @traeumerinwitzhelden

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #433

Top Ten Things I Want from Xbox Series X

June is Games Month here at David’s Top Tens! That’s right, all month long we’re exploring the majesty of what we all used to call “computer games” before we became too cool. That’s because it’s the time of year when huge multinationals tantalise us with pre-rendered cinematics showcasing gaming experiences utterly divorced from what we’ll get to play. Even in this Time of Crisis (as opposed to a Time Crisis), games companies are still Touting Their Wares, and as such, I am brimming with fanboy fervour, tantalised at the prospect of Gaming Yet to Come. This week alone has seen sexy new videos from the likes of EA, Pokémon, and Sony – whose PlayStation 5 reveal gave us the best glimpse yet at exactly what the next generation could look like. I was impressed; although there wasn’t too much in the way of radically new concepts or whatever, games looked good, with plenty of sexy, shiny new bells and whistles, and it looked like environments will be bigger, more fluid, and more reactive than ever before. Plus seeing the ray-tracing in Ratchet and Clank: Rift Apart gave me serious “Quake II running on a 3D accelerator card” vibes. Suddenly I was sixteen again, getting all sticky-knickered over texture filtering and coloured lightning.

It was great.

However, I’m pretty much an Xbox-first gamer; mostly, I suppose, due to inertia, having gotten used now to how an Xbox works, to the point where a PlayStation always feels a little alien (still wanna play The Last of Us Part II, though). I’m more of a fan of the Xbox game franchises – the main reason I bought an original Xbox in the first place (way back in 2001) was to play Halo: Combat Evolved, and because of the promise of Fable. This love of Xbox games has only grown with the acquisition of Rare (despite the slight misstep of Perfect Dark Zero) and the release of games like Crackdown, Gears, and Forza Horizon. So as much as I try to be open-minded – and certainly I try to avoid any kind of partisan mud-slinging – I guess I’m pretty much in the tank for Xbox. As such, I’m phenomenally excited for Xbox Series X. I got an Xbox One at launch, and despite all of the hullaballoo and criticism, I’ve always really liked it. I think it’s kind of struggled compared to its predecessors (cult favourite OG Xbox and revolutionary Xbox 360), and hasn’t quite had the era-defining games that both of those enjoyed. All that being said, though, I’ve had loads of fun with it, and so have my wife and kids. But I’ve stuck with the same machine all these years, never upgrading to the more streamlined Xbox One S or the super-duper-sexy Xbox One X. So when I do upgrade, I think the jump will be far more noticeable than someone who’s been enjoying Red Dead Redemption 2 or Gears 5 on a 4K display; it should really feel like a new generation. And that’s before we get to all of the traced rays and other lovely gubbins.  

Anyway, when it’s this time of year, I tend to do a semi-comical “E3 predictions” list, followed by a “Stuff I liked at E3” list. Obviously E3 isn’t really happening, but these other online game reveals are, and given my aforementioned excitement over Series X – and Microsoft’s upcoming and much-anticipated reveal of first-party titles – I thought I’d divert my thoughts to what I want to see on the new console. However, unlike the traditional E3 predictions of yore, I’m going to look at what I’d like from the console rather than what games I’d like to see. Partly that’s because these announcement videos are getting spread so far and wide that it’s hard to keep track of what’s been revealed or when we’re likely to see something; partly it’s because we already know quite a few Xbox games that are coming out; and partly because the list would just degenerate into older franchises I want to see come back round again. Plus, with Crackdown 3 having already happened, a new Fable more-or-less an open secret, and a new Perfect Dark being very heavily rumoured, my go-to “wants” are getting thin on the ground. Perhaps Tim Schafer can bring his old LucasArts classics to the Xbox next year…? Whatever, this time around, I’m looking at that big black box and thinking about what features and design elements I’d like to see. What could be improved from how the Xbox One works? How would I like Microsoft to leverage their assets – from the faster SSD to the power of Project xCloud? Basically, what do I want Xbox Series X to be like, outside from glittering reflections on Master Chief’s shiny armour?

Streamlined, faster dashboard: now they’ve already said that the Xbox Series X dash will be effectively identical to the Xbox One dash, which is a trifle disappointing, but I hope that doesn’t mean that both systems can’t get an improved dashboard before Christmas. At the moment things are a bit fiddly, and I’d like to use the improved SSD to mean seamless transitions from page to page. Make it super-easy to get to your game library. Allow more customisation of the landing page. How about allowing us to resize icons, like on Windows 10? Don’t have quite so many obscure categories clogging up the front page. Use the shoulder buttons to hop between sections. Make it more about the games I can play rather than connectivity, shopping, or chatting. Stuff like that.

Integrated streaming: with Project xCloud on the (official) horizon, hopefully we can integrate that service into how the Xbox works. How’s about letting us stream demos straight from the store? Or stream games while they install/download? Or the option to stream any game we own rather than play it from the console? Or cast games from console to phone, or tablet, or PC, so we can enjoy the benefits of Series X hardware in the palm of our hands?

Discless play: teased then withdrawn from the Xbox One launch as it require the internet to check, I hope this can make a belated return. I like physical media, but I also like not having to get off the couch to change discs. I’d be very willing to accept an always-on connection as the price for playing a game without the disc in. If they could find some way to implement this and keep everyone happy, I’d be delighted.

Improved Guide menu: the best thing about the Xbox 360 interface was the Guide menu, which – certainly by the end of the generation – basically offered you full console functionality from one simple pause-button menu. The One Guide has been refined but could go further. Offer instant access to all our games, and all the system settings. Let us seamlessly jump from one thing to another and back again. Let us view all our captures quickly and easily. And let us go through game-by-game and see all our achievements, cycling through their related imagery. Basically, make it more like the 360, please.

Standardised settings: another amazing thing the 360 did that was totally walked back for the One is the idea of having a standardised range of settings that were applied across your entire profile. So if you want to invert your Y-axis, you tick one box, then all games are inverted. This was fantastic, and Microsoft were daft for undoing it. Make it good again! You have the power!

Refined subscription services: I think Game Pass is the future of Xbox, and I think xCloud is the future of Game Pass. This seems fairly obvious to me. I don’t know how much money Microsoft makes from Game Pass, but the way they’re leveraging their entire gaming strategy around it suggests that it’s a much stronger money-spinner for them than the traditional console market. I just hope that eventually the myriad Xbox subscriptions can be refined. Perhaps “Gold” as we understand it could be retired, replaced with a simple three-tier monthly sub, similar to Netflix; Game Pass Bronze (limited multiplayer, limited ability to download games from the library); Silver (Gold and Game Pass as we understand it, plus limited streaming), and Gold (all the games plus full streaming of everything)? This would, hopefully, mean we could get some of the benefits at a reduced cost (say, a fiver a month), and the “free” games in Game Pass would offset the loss of Games With Gold, perhaps.

Switch app: simply put, this would be cool: the ability to stream Xbox games on a Switch. Nothing more to it than that, really; the Switch form factor and controls would lend themselves to the Xbox experience effortlessly, and it’d mean I could continue my Halo campaign whilst my wife hogs the Xbox with Stardew Valley again.

Tangible differences between generations: on the one hand, I really applaud Microsoft’s blended approach to console generations. Smart Delivery, Backwards Compatibility, and Play Anywhere combine to form a very consumer-friendly approach; if you a buy a game now, you’re more-or-less guaranteed the best possible version come the Series X launch in November (or whenever). The downside to this, however, is a slight nagging feeling that we’re not going to see the best that the console can do; it’s fair enough that the Xbox One and Series X versions of Halo Infinite are, to all intents and purposes, on the same disc, and your progress and achievements carry over; but does this not mean that, aside from improvements in graphics and loading times, the Series X version is functionally identical? Is it just like upgrading a graphics card? Ratchet and Clank boasted some nifty dimension-hopping technology that presumably is a core part of the gameplay and looked like something that maybe wasn’t possible this gen; will Xbox owners miss out on features like that? If Series X could, say, give us a new Fable that presented as one continuous open world with no “hubs” or separated areas or loading, with some kind of magical traversal that allowed us to rocket across the landscape on a broomstick or whatever, would that not be handicapped by having to carry save game data over from the inevitable Xbox One version? Basically, I’m fascinated by how it’s going to work, but I hope we’re not going to end up slightly short-changed from a featureset point of view.

New hardware: not just the Series X itself, obviously; and not even the strongly-rumoured “Series S” either. I mean other bits and bobs. As they’ve already shown us the controller, I can’t realistically wish for one that had a microphone in it, but a tiny mic attachment maybe? Alongside the obvious headset. I wanna talk to the machine, basically; it was the one genuine benefit of Kinect. Also: a new, improved, media remote. A wireless mouse and keyboard, or some kind of lap-based hybrid. A new camera, not as invasive or scary as Kinect, just so we can use the Xbox to Skype people. And y’know what? VR support. Doesn’t have to be unique, bespoke headsets; just let us use PC ones, and let developers support VR in Xbox games. I don’t have the money or space to upgrade my laptop to be VR-ready, but if I had a PlayStation you can be damn sure I’d have PSVR. Half-Life: Alyx might be a pipe dream, but can I play Star Wars Squadrons at least?

Don’t bankrupt me: yeah, this. I’m cautiously optimistic that Microsoft will at least attempt to make this manageable; the recent rumour that it’d sell for $399 was much appreciated even if I think it’s supremely unlikely, especially if Lockheart/Series S is a thing. With Sony giving out noises that the PS5 will be a “good value” proposition rather than cheap, I think MS will strongly attempt to undercut them, but also not feel the need to go stupidly low. So please, Microsoft: $450, top end. Please don’t give us a $499 box. I’m already gonna be forking out for a new TV so I’d appreciate if I could keep the whole cost. For what it’s worth, I think the prices of all the new consoles will be: PS5 $499; XSX $449; PS5 DE $399; XSS $299. There you go: I managed to slip in an E3 prediction right at the very end. Prove me wrong, guys!

Phew, that was another epic one. But it was fun. I guess it’s weird to try to talk about the feel of a console without having used it. There are things I’d like improving with the look and feel of Xbox, but it’s hard to quantify it; stuff that’s clunky on a daily basis. And I’m probably an edge case anyway: someone with a huge interest in games and gaming, but who’s not very interested in multiplayer, and who – because of time and money but mostly time – rarely plays new releases, and takes ages to complete a game. But anyway. I’m dead excited about the Xbox Series X, and I can’t wait to hear more.

[spacepaladinranger]

Engame Spoiler-y Review

READ THIS ONLY IF YOU WANT TO BE SPOILED. I just need to let my feelings out because I’m a nerd who has nothing better to do.

I don’t think the MC can make another movie like this. That is not to say that the MCE will never be able to make a film bigger or more spectacular than this, because they might. But it will never top the emotional impact of this film.

The MCU has been criticized (justly, I may add) to be series of “junk food” films – full of spectacle, but low on character development. This film is anything but that. The film feels more like a love letter to the characters and the fans. The spectacle was there, of course, but this time it was eclipsed by the small, minute scenes that give insight to our beloved superheroes.Before that, here are the films you probably should watch. Although the references are easy to spot, you might want to brush up on your knowledge of these films.

Avengers (2012)

Thor: The Dark World (I know. They really reminded us the worst MCU film exists lol)

Dr. Strange

Age of Ultron

Capt. America: TWS

Capt. America: Civil War

Iron Man 3

(EVERYTHING AFTER THIS IS SPOILER TERRITORY PLEASE STOP READING IF YOU DON’T WANT TO BE SPOILED. I MEAN IT.)

The film begins before the infamous Thanos snappening, with Hawkeye. The first scene itself was telling to what the movie aims to be. It was emotional and reminded us of the stakes – of what the heroes are fighting for. It was a good mood setter and on the get go, separates itself from Infinity War. If Infinity War was Thanos’ journey of gathering the Infinity Stones, then Endgame is the journey of the original six Avengers in their goal to undo Thanos’ handiwork. Now finally, I understand why this is not called Infinity War Part 2 – because it is not. The structure of the film itself is vastly different from IW because the focus is shifted from the plot to the characters themselves.And this was a tall order. We are talking about a decade long franchise of 20 plus films, all with their own tone and structure, and weaving them together into a coherent film with a solid plot and development is difficult. The Russo brothers, luckily, shine in this kind of storytelling. There is something so enticing with the way they handle the arcs of these characters without it feeling overly dramatic or feeling like a caricature. My second favourite emotional arc was Natasha/Black Widow’s story. Arguably, she had the biggest role to play in the Avengers’ success in the film.  Her sacrifice in Vormir to get the Soul Stone was gutting. I literally cried partly because no one expected her to die – she was never in anyone’s death prediction list – and partly because you expect a spy like her to be anything but self-sacrificing. Her fight with Clint/Hawkeye on who between them should be sacrificed to get the stone was hard to watch. They are bestfriends who are willing to die for each other; but they understand the necessity of the sacrifice because they are also heroes who have to do whatever it takes for them to win. Their dialogue was the best of the film, and Natasha’s “I don’t judge people on their worst mistake” is a sober reminder that these two go way back and has been each other’s strength and support all throughout the film franchise. It’s devastating to see Natasha plummet to her death, but it served an indispensable push for the heroes to succeed.

My favourite arc was Steve/Cap (SURPRISE! Lmao). Steve’s role was noticeably reduced in IW and this film made up for it in a major way. Let me just get this out of the way, but the styling team really did god’s work in dressing up Steve this film and the Russo brothers’, bless them, choice to have every outfit of Steve showcased is the very definition of fan service. It was gratuitous but honestly, I am not complaining. There was a running joke about Steve’s butt being “America’s Best Ass”™ (Thank you Scott Lang for that) and having Steve himself recognize it was not only satisfying to watch but also the truest, realest thing that has been uttered in the film. LolKidding aside, Steve’s journey was the most important. People argue that Tony was the foundation of the Avengers but it was Steve that kept them together. And Steve kept them together. It’s more than just him giving rousing, inspiring speeches – Steve has always served as the moral compass of the group. Somehow, Steve always knew the right thing to do, but it never felt deus-ex-machina esque, instead it always felt like it was coming from a place of wisdom and compassion. It’s not that Steve knows what to do, it’s just that Steve sees that there is something that can be done, and actually does it. Steve has always been a hero. That was the journey that was set-up for him since his first outing in the MCU, and Endgame paid that off big time. When Steve wielded the Mjolnir, I tell you, I screamed loudly. It was so satisfying to see this straight-laced hero being recognized as someone worthy. His toe-to-toe with Thanos was amazing to watch and really reminds you that Steve’s physicality and fight scenes are some of the best in all of the MCU. So when Steve returns to Infinity Stones in their proper timeline and decides not to come back to the present to, in his words, “live life”, I shed a tear. It was well deserved. This man who has been fighting wars all his life deserve a life of peace. Steve doesn’t die, but he gives up his mantle and gives his shield to Sam/Falcon. It was a good way to bookend his journey. And I am excited to see how Anthony Mackie handles this huge role in the future.

Tony Stark is the first Stark casualty this April. After his rescue from deep space, we find out that Tony and Pepper got married and have a daughter. When the daughter came to the screen, I knew immediately that Tony Stark is unlikely to survive. Tony dies a hero, sacrificing himself so that Thanos is defeated. It was Tony who wielded the stones to snap Thanos and his alien army out of existence, and his death, although emotional to watch, was really not surprising for me. Tony came to us first being this selfish, brash, genius billionaire and his journey ended with him making the sacrifice that deals the final blow against Thanos. 

Scott Lang shined in this film. His funny one-liners provide a welcome reprieve from the heaviness of the film. And he was actually instrumental in the Avengers winning. Nebula was also a stand out and played an important role in moving the plot forward. Who knew a robot had so many conflicting emotions lol. Kudos to Karen Gillan for bringing complexity to her character and I cannot wait to see her in future MCU films again. All the ‘dusted’ characters come back. All of them. And not just them everyone in the MCU almost made a cameo. Hoping this film rakes in billions because it’s probably expensive having so many of the cast in the same scenes. Haha.

Some stand-out moments:

1. Thor’s beer belly 

2. Wanda/Scarlet Witch and Thanos rematch (Thanos got beat, BTW)

3. The all-female team-up of Capt. Marvel, Scarlet Witch, Okoye, Pepper Potts, Valkyrie, and Mantis

4. Thor double wielding Stormbreaker and Mjolnir

5. Stephen Strange having like one line and being a badass

6. Spider-Man being… Spider-Man

7. Peter Quill being kicked in the balls by Gamora

8. Everytime the camera pans to Steven Grant Rogers

9. The close-up of Steven Grant Rogers’ ass

There are flaws to this film. But honestly, I leave that to the actual critics. It gave me what I wanted to see and showed me things I did not expect to see. It was emotional. As a fan who has watched all the films multiple times, as someone who obsessed over the details and made theories, as someone who holds these comic book characters close to my heart, I truly enjoyed this film. It was worth it.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

BUT WHILE DEMAND SHAPED LIKE A WELL IS ALMOST A NECESSARY CONDITION FOR A GOOD PART OF WESTERN HISTORY, AS IN A SECRET SOCIETY, NOTHING THAT HAPPENS WITHIN THE BUILDING SHOULD BE TOLD TO OUTSIDERS

The fact that startups need less money means founders will increasingly have the upper hand over investors. And pay especially close attention whenever an idea is good. Technology should increase the gap between the productive and the unproductive. Working to implement one idea gives you more ideas. The second is that different startups need such different things, so you need to do here is loosen up your own mind, it may be somewhat blurry at first. Since startups often garbage-collect resources or to move or restore data, programs that tried to restart things if they broke, programs that ran occasionally to compile statistics or build indexes for searches, programs we ran explicitly to garbage-collect resources or to move or restore data, programs that ran constantly in the background looking for problems, programs that pretended to be users to measure performance or expose bugs, programs for diagnosing network troubles, programs for diagnosing network troubles, programs for diagnosing network troubles, programs for diagnosing network troubles, programs for doing backups, interfaces to outside services, software that you can. I'm not saying that if you want to solve a problem using a network of cooperating companies work better than a single big company? Well, that is all too obvious. You can't distinguish your group by doing things that are rational, and believing things that are missing will take some time to see. And more specifically, is it always partly his wife's fault? Why didn't Henry Ford realize that networks of cooperating companies, you have to create distance yourself. And that's where the money is.

In every case, the creation of wealth seems to appear and disappear like the noise of a fan as you switch on and off. Meaning everyone within this world was low-res version 1, it's clear you can't reproduce that either. In a feudal society, there are some kinds of piracy. The Dutch seem to live their lives up to their elbows in source code, but you should never tell them. But if you're looking for startup ideas they didn't see this one, because unconsciously they shrank from having to deal with tedious problems or get involved in messy ways with the real world, wealth is except for a few vestigial domestic tasks. Plus if you find an unmet need of your own case. In 1989 some clever researchers tracked the eye movements of radiologists as they scanned chest images for signs of lung cancer. Facebook were even supposed to be an illusion. That's a big change. Building something differentiated from competitors by the fact that they value open-mindedness is no guarantee. Venture capital is a business where occasional big successes generate hundredfold returns. My parents never claimed that people or animals who died had gone to a better place, or that up is circular.

Once it became possible to make one's fortune, the ambitious plan was to get lots of education at prestigious institutions, and then buy it, as two separate steps. That's an extreme example, of course, but when you're making a decision impetuously, you're all the more subtle ways we mislead kids. Then for each ask, might this be true? I've written elsewhere, by using Lisp, which many people still consider a research language, we could make the Viaweb editor behave more like desktop software. Y Combinator has now funded 564 startups including the current batch feels like a walk in the park. The investors who invested when you had no money were taking more risk, and are entitled to higher returns. It probably didn't occur to most kids that wealth is something you're supposed to believe, parents either pressure the school into keeping quiet or move their kids to feel it too. You can, so you need to learn to watch from a distance. When I grew up there were only 2 or 3 of most things, and since they were all aiming at the middle of the century our two big forces intersect, in the aggregate, make more money than they want. The phrase seemed almost grammatically ill-formed. Many of our taboos are rooted deep in the past, this rule of thumb in the VC business were established when founders needed investors more.

The second reason we tend to be far better than everyone else. The ultimate way to get wealth is by stealing it. Web pages are just good enough. But if it's inborn it should be universal, and there was a fast path out of the initial idea is the meta-fact that these are hard to see how anyone could argue that the salaries of professional basketball players don't reflect supply and demand. The big successes only have to get a big chunk of their company in the series A stage before series As turned into de facto series B rounds. If you want to grab coffee, for example, is a good candidate for something we're mistaken about. Those helped get it started, but now that the reaction is self-sustaining what drives it is the people. That's no problem for someone on the manager's schedule you can do for the asking. I have no trouble imagining that one person could be 100 times as productive as another. England. The reason our hypothetical jaded 10 year old bothers me so much is not just that it makes life locally more efficient, but also cause you to switch from one task to another; it changes the mode in which you work.

If you do that, but we can do something almost as good: we can meet with them, and the problem now seems to be the last to realize it. Off, quiet. That may not have been a good startup idea. Why wouldn't young professionals make lots of money. Ideally, no one got far enough to ask that. We overcame this one to work on both will be browsing the Web, meaning Web-based applications is to that extent outsourcing IT. Only if it's fun. Unfair, they cry, when one sibling gets more than another. There are only two things you have to do it yourself. For example, anyone reasonably smart can probably get to an edge of programming e. They released the OS without the unfinished parts, and users will have to design software so that it can be a good long period of cheerful chaos, just as you do.

Fashion doesn't seem like fashion to someone in the grip of it. Individualism has gone, never to return. This second group adopt the fashion not because they want the lower costs of new technology. But among the many other things I was ignorant of was how much debris there already was in my head. When you feel that about an idea you've had while trying to come up with some other solution. It's no coincidence that Microsoft and Facebook both got started in January. If someone made x we'd buy it in a second.

Once you have all the college students, you get bad ones that sound dangerously plausible. Piracy is effectively the lowest tier of price discrimination. But I have no trouble imagining that one person could be 100 times as much land in a day as he could with a team of horses. I'm slightly less likely to start something ambitious in the morning. Change happened mostly by itself in the computer business. Because your software evolves gradually, you don't have enough density, the chance meetings don't happen. Yes, because they get the wrong answers on tests. If we don't see corresponding variation in income. This is why some software costs more to run on Windows, and deliver software running on Unix direct to users through the browser. To someone in their twenties today, this wouldn't seem worth naming. They were what Shakespeare called rude mechanicals.

Version 1 of this world was low-res version 1, it's clear you can't reproduce that either. So Web-based software is never going to be broken up, I'm slightly less likely to introduce bugs. What happens now with the Super Bowl used to happen every night. General Foods, General Motors. They're effectively free if you're on the maker's schedule starts to be more disciplined. We found that RTML became a kind of proxy focus group; we could ask them which of two new features users wanted more, and they could not master it. This is just as true today, though few of us create wealth directly for ourselves except for a few vestigial domestic tasks. His skills are simply much more valuable.

Thanks to Sam Altman, Robert Morris, Jessica Livingston, and Beau Hartshorne for putting up with me.

[libertariantaoist]

It used to be that the American left, or at least substantial portions of it,  were reliable allies in the war against the warmongers

No more.

What we are witnessing today is a complete turnaround of the American left’s  historic foreign policy stance. The glory days of the 1950s and Sixtiest, when  liberals and leftists stood together in the fight against the cold war hysteria  that led to government persecution of alleged “Communists” and “fellow travelers”  are long gone.

Today we are subjected to the  spectacle of “liberal” Democratic party politicians and their media amen  corner demanding an “investigation” of the President of the United States and  his associates on the grounds that they are Russian agents and “useful idiots.”  And anyone who questions this nonsense is smeared, as Rep. Adam Schiff’s reply  to Tucker Carlson’s relentless on air questioning made all too clear. Asked  to provide evidence that the Russians determined the results of the 2016 election,  Schiff  said: “You’re carrying water for the Kremlin, you’re going to have to move  your show over to Russia Today.”

The smarmy Schiff, ranking Democrat on the House Intelligence Committee, is  leading the charge, along with Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer, calling  for a show trial of Trump appointees (and Trump himself) disguised as an “investigation”  into an alleged Russian plot to subvert democracy. He’s also a big fan of the  Saudis: he brazenly cheers  on the bombing of women and children in Yemen by his friends in Riyadh. But  since there are no leaks by the “intelligence community” exposing Saudi ties  to lawmakers – it’ll never happen, folks! – no one talks about this.

The  latest chapter in this sorry story is the sudden “revelation” that Attorney  General Jeff Sessions spoke with the Russian ambassador – twice! – in his capacity  as a US Senator, and while he was an informal advisor to the Trump campaign.  The chorus of demands that he recuse himself from the investigation – some are  even calling for his resignation as Attorney General – has now reached a crescendo  (as I write this,  Sessions had now recused himself). Even Glenn Greenwald,  who has written eloquently about the dangers of the current anti-Russian hysteria,  called on Sessions to recuse himself and support the appointment of a Grand  Inquisitor special prosecutor.

But why is that? After all, plenty of media outlets have accused Greenwald  of being a “Kremlin tool.” Does that mean we should investigate the charge,  and perhaps even haul him up before a revived House Committee on Un-American  Activities, where he will be subjected to a merciless grilling about his alleged  “Russian ties”?

Yet Greenwald, and those few on the left who have so far resisted the anti-Russian  tide, couldn’t bring themselves to defend Sessions against this kind of attack.  To do so would alienate them from their liberal followers: they just can’t afford  to be so isolated. Yet they are making a colossal mistake, one they’ll come  to regret in due course.

Sessions – a hard-line “law and order” type and is from Alabama (and we know  what that means) – is now being portrayed as just another “Kremlin tool.”  The campaign to lynch him — the perfect marriage of political correctness,  Trump Derangement Syndrome, and Russophobia — represents the consolidation  of what used to be the “left” around hostility to Russia as a foundational “principle.”

This turn toward Russopbobia is partly the result of the  left’s rage over the election of Donald Trump, but, as I pointed out in  my  last column, that’s only part of the story. The inherent tendency of the  left to want to remake the world – which, as the libertarian theorist Murray  Rothbard pointed  out, is essentially a religious impulse – is the real story here. Embarked  on a crusade to remake this country in the name of political correctness, their  millenarian obsession logically extends to the rest of the globe. And Russia  is the leading example of “reactionary” cultural attitudes, one that must be  opposed – by force, if necessary.

I’ve likened this wave of anti-Russian hysteria to McCarthyism, and several  of my readers have objected. They point out that there were plenty of Communists  in the federal government under Franklin Roosevelt, as  the Venona intercepts and the KGB archives reveal. All quite true, but this  misses my point: the important thing to remember about Joe McCarthy and his  effect on our politics is that anti-Russian hysteria led directly to our cold  war foreign policy – a policy that on several occasions had us ready to jump  into the abyss of a nuclear conflagration. McCarthy and his followers – many  of them conservative “isolationists” who had opposed US entry into World War  II – started out by positing that the danger to the country was internal subversion  by a “communist conspiracy.” They ended up as fanatical cold warriors who advocated  confronting the Soviet Union militarily on every front abroad because there  was no way to contain their militant anti-Communism within our borders.

The same process is transforming the America left into the worst warmongers  on the block – with the added impetus of liberal universalism, which fuels and  speeds up this grotesque transformation.

Just as Woodrow Wilson’s crusade to “make the world safe for democracy” impelled  us to enter a war that destroyed European civilization, so the same messianic  impulse is driving American liberals (and their “leftist” fellow travelers)  into the War Party’s camp. There is now a great gaping hole in our political  spectrum, for the anti-interventionist left is no more.

Alex Cockburn  was the last principled leftist of any prominence: when he died, principled  anti-interventionism on the left died with him.

As President Trump seeks rapprochement with Russia, the “left” will move to  block this welcome development. Their domestic political agenda dictates a hard-line  foreign policy stance.

This is very bad news for us here at Antiwar.com. A considerable part of our  audience has always been on the left, including many of our longtime supporters.  As the left dissolves into a Russophobic frenzy, the danger is that we’ll lose  many of these people. It’s a sad demonstration of a  point I’ve often made in this space: that there’s no real wall of separation  between domestic politics and foreign policy. Indeed, the former determines  the latter.

Of course, we’ve been through this before. The presidency of Bill Clinton saw  the defection of the “liberals” from the anti-interventionist camp in droves:  that’s when “humanitarian interventionism” became all the rage in liberal-left  circles. And the Obama years saw the complete evisceration of the organized  antiwar movement, which had largely been a leftist project, as a liberal Democratic  administration overthrew the government of Libya, initiated regime-change in  Syria, and prosecuted our endless “war on terrorism.” Now they’re not only going  AWOL, they’re signing up as the most militant members of the War Party — and  it isn’t pretty.

Antiwar.com isn’t caving in to this ugly trend: far from it. Even  as some alleged “libertarians” are swept  up in this wave of crazed Russophobia, we are standing almost alone against  the tide. Subject neither to Russophobia nor to Trump  Derangement Syndrome, we are holding high the banner of anti-interventionism  – but we can’t hold it up without your support.

These perilous and confusing times have disoriented too many people, who are  torn between their quite justifiable suspicions about the Trump administration  and their anti-interventionist convictions. The political storm over the administration’s  alleged “Russian ties,” as exemplified by the brouhaha over the distinctly un-libertarian  Jeff Sessions, doesn’t help.

We are now coming into the final – and most crucial – phase of our current  fundraising campaign, and this is turning into a test of whether a principled  anti-interventionist movement can survive the Trump era. At a time when Antiwar.com  is needed most, we’re being buffeted by political storms on both the right and  the left. I would venture to say that among our supporters who voted for Trump,  there are not a few who would forget their anti-interventionist views if the  President should call out the troops tomorrow. And, conversely, and as I’ve  shown above, some on the left side of the political spectrum have already  thrown their previous views overboard in the service of their anti-Trump monomania.

Yet  we are more determined than ever to steer a principled course that makes  no concessions to either side. Period.

I’m appealing to you, our readers and supporters, to help us navigate these  turbulent waters. The way you can do that is by supporting this web site with  your tax-deductible donation – and if you’ve been holding back, then now is  the time to contribute. That’s because a group of our most generous (and well-heeled!)  supporters have gotten together to donate matching funds, a grand total of $31,000  – but there’s a catch. We don’t get the money until we can match it with smaller  donations.

Our current fundraising campaign is a test, the results of which will answer  the question “Can a principled anti-interventionist movement survive the Trump  era?” I pray that the answer is a resounding “Yes!” – but we’ll see.

We need a principled nonpartisan antiwar movement now more than ever – so please,  make your contribution today.

[thiswreckageivebecome]

The Winter Soldier is Still Here (”Temporary Fix”-Part Twelve) (Bucky Barnes x reader) (Winter Soldier x reader)

Description: You’re working at the local farmers market when you meet Bucky and catch his eye, not only because you’re the only one who sells plums, but because you treat him like a normal person. As a friendship begins to bloom, it quickly grows into a relationship and you learn that life with Bucky isn’t as easy it originally seemed. I SUCK AT DESCRIPTIONS!

Word Count: 4905

Warning: Language. Angst. Sexual tension. Hints at smut. Mostly fluffy.

Author’s Note: Not every aspect matches with the Marvel films or comics. I chose to include and ignore some of the choices Marvel made for various reasons. Just know going in that not everything lines up with the storyline Marvel created and that is done on purpose.

Yes....One Direction may have had just a touch of inspiration for this chapter. ;)

After the holidays, I traveled back home to Lynchburg and was there only long enough to do laundry and get a few hours of sleep, before I was headed to the airport. Tony had been the one to supply the tickets, first class might I add, and transport services to the tower. I met the famous Mauve (a second progression of Jarvis, post-Ultron) in this process which was unreal.

"Hello, Ms. (y/l/n), I'm Mauve, here to assist you with anything you might need. I will be traveling back with you to Stark Tower. Is there any location in which you need to stop first?"

"Ahh, no, I don't think so."

"Then we'll be there shortly, miss. In the compartments to your left and right, you'll find any beverage or snack of choice."

"I'm fine, thank you, Mauve...by the way, it's nice to meet you."

"It's lovely to meet you as well."

The ride to the tower was quiet as I took in the city as we rode by. Mauve didn't bother me, nor did I have much to say to him, but as I saw the tower ahead of us through the windshield, my nervous system kicked into overdrive. My hands began to get clammy, despite the 22-degree weather outside. All of the senses in my body seemed to be on high alert as my body began to tingle like when a part of it falls asleep. My stomach began to churn. I didn't know why I was so nervous.

"Mauve..."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"How are things at the tower? How is Bucky doing? Is everyone okay with me visiting?"

"Ma'am, I'm not sure I have the right to answer those questions."

"Not you too, Mauve! Can no one tell me anything?"

"I can tell you that Mr. Barnes is happy to be seeing you."

"Well, I guess that beats bad news...." I muttered to myself. Once we stopped, the door to the vehicle opened, seemingly of its own volition. I stepped out, dragging my bag behind me.

Sam appeared at my side, taking my bag.

"Hey, (y/n). Let's get inside, I'll show the way."

He didn't give me a chance to reply. He all but pushed me forward and into the building. Once we were in an elevator, I dared to speak.

"So hello to you too? What's the hushed rush about?"

"Brrr, it's cold outside. Can't you tell?" He was a terrible liar. I looked at him in the eyes, but he immediately looked away and to the LED screen telling us which floor we were on.

"Sam, what's wrong? Where's Bucky? What's going on? What about Steve?" I flew into a mountain of loaded questions. Why didn't Bucky meet me? Something clearly had to be wrong.

"Ahh, Bucky and Steve are a little preoccupied right now is all. I'll help you get settled. That's all."

"Sam. Steve and Bucky don't just become preoccupied unless something is wrong. Has Bucky had an episode? Dammit Sam, just tell me!" I half-yelled this at him, fed up with the secrecy, as the doors of the elevator opened. I continued to glare at him instead of out the doors until I heard Bucky's voice.

"I told them you wouldn't like this plan."

My head swished so quickly to see a healthy and happy looking Bucky. He grinned at me, eyes skimming down my body, taking in the sight of me. I couldn't help but stare at him. The elevator doors began to close, but I didn't notice until they were almost shut. I jumped forward, yelling "no!" while Sam's voice cut through the fog "calm down, woman, damn," as he pressed the door open button for me. Once the doors opened again, I jumped into Bucky's open arms. He held me tight and picked me up off the ground, but not far. My eyes squished tight, relishing in the moment and the feel of being in Bucky's arms again. He put me down after a few seconds but didn't let go. I looked around him and saw Steve smirking in our direction. I also saw party decorations spread across the massive...I assumed, living space. I also saw many of the Avengers sitting on the couches, staring at the exchange.

"Ahh, Bucky, what the hell..." I whispered to him.

"We're here to meet you," Peter Parker called.

I couldn't even acknowledge what was happening. I did feel my face heating up, however. Bucky leaned down slightly to give me a peck on the cheek and took my left hand, leading me over to where everyone else was sitting. Sam had joined them, but Steve had continued to the fridge and was pouring himself a glass of water.

"Everyone, this is (y/n)."

"So we finally get to meet the infamous (y/n). You're the only thing he knows how to talk about." Nat spoke boldly, almost seemingly annoyed. I wasn't sure why, but I immediately knew she was not going to be my biggest fan. Steve must have shot her a look from behind me because she quickly scoffed, rolled her eyes, and looked out the glass wall into the courtyard.

"So you're from that mountain town Lynchburg, right?" Wanda Maximoff asked, standing to greet me. She reached out her hand to shake mine.

"Ah, well it's where I live now, yes. It's nice to meet you.."

"I'm Wanda, it's a pleasure to meet you, (y/n)."

"Mr. Barnes, I have to argue with you about the color of Ms. (Y/n) eyes. It seems that instead of being the color of emeralds, they appear to be more of a sea foam variety."

"Well, Vision, I suppose that's one reason they call you that? Nice to meet you." I piped up, slightly offended (but still flattered) that Vision wanted to argue against Bucky, but I let it go. Vision smiled and nodded in my direction as an acknowledgment of what I had said. He must have sensed my dislike of his arguing as he didn't have anything else to say. I didn't mean to offend him, but I felt my protective instincts kicking into high gear, instincts to protect both Bucky and myself.

"We have some snacks and cake over here, (y/n), if you'd like something?" Steve was attempting to help the situation.

"Ahh, yeh, why don't you guys go ahead?"

"We've been waiting on you. You're the guest. You're supposed to go first," Natasha's words cut into me.

My face was heating, in anger, at this point. What the hell had I done to her? I turned my head quickly in her direction and dropped my hand from Buckys.

"I'm sorry, but what the h-"

"Nat, can I see you down the hall, please?" Steve cut me off, knowing this would not end well.

She huffed, but stood up and led the way down the hall. I turned to Bucky, partly embarrassed that I had almost shown my ass in front of people I didn't know...superheroes at that, but I didn't appreciate her attitude. Super assassin or not, I hadn't done anything for her to be hateful towards me.

Clint Barton stepped up to me, extending his hand. "Please excuse her, she was already upset before you got here. I'm Clint. It's nice to finally meet you."

I smiled at his kindness. "Lovely to meet you as well. If y'all are really waiting on me, please go ahead, I actually need to use the restroom."

"Here, I'll show you to your room. There's a bathroom there."

Bucky picked up my bags and motioned for me to walk ahead of him as he placed his hand on the small of my back, guiding me where to go. Once the door to the elevator shut, I immediately looked at the floor, shaking my head.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper with your friend. I just...I don't understand why she was being so rude when we had just met."

"You don't have to apologize. She was being rude...and don't get me wrong, these people haven't treated me poorly, but they're more Steve's friends than mine. I thought your reaction was funny, actually. I'm glad you stood up to her. I should have stepped in, honestly, but like I said, they're more Steve's friends than mine." The elevator doors opened and we stepped out into a different looking floor that was full of doors, presumably bedrooms.

"No, it wasn't your place either. Don't worry about it. If you're not worried about it, I'm not going to worry about it either."

"This one here on the right. If it's not okay, we can arrange something else. My room is four doors down on the left if you need anything. I'll give you a few minutes to let you get settled if you'd like. You have an ensuite bathroom," he said as he stepped in, placing my bags on the bed.

"Yeh, that'll be great. I'd like to change into something a little nicer anyway."

"Okay, you don't have to, though, just so you know." He reached around my waist and pulled me in close. "You look beautiful just as you are." I stood on my tiptoes to meet his lips that were approaching mine. At the moment our lips touched it was as if all was right in the world. Things were normal, nothing was weird. Bucky was Bucky, I was myself, and we were the only two people that mattered in the universe. I'm unsure how I had fell so quickly, but I loved this man, and while I knew it wasn't going to be easy, I didn't want to ever let him go.

Our lips parted and he grabbed my hand to kiss the back of it, gripping it tightly in this thick and rough hand. He gave it a squeeze before letting go and throwing "I'll be in my room if you want to come get me whenever you're ready," over his shoulder as he walked out, closing the door quietly behind him.

I went into the bathroom to throw cold water on my face. I needed to calm down. I was on edge after the rough and awkward situation with Natasha. Bucky helped calm me, but not completely. I looked at myself in the mirror, taking deep breaths and stilling myself and my determination to make nice with everyone. If I was being honest, while I found it important to get along with these people considering they were around Bucky more than I was at this point, seeing Bucky happy and healthy was my main goal, it's what I cared about most. I changed into clothes that were still comfortable, but looked nicer, and put on some makeup for extra effect. I still threw my hair into a loose bun on top of my head before taking a deep breath and walking out of my room and down the hallway.

"...how many doors did he say..." I wondered quietly to myself. "Crap." I stepped to the third door and tried to speak only loud enough that someone on the other side might possibly hear me, "Bucky???" I waited but heard nothing. I repeated the action at the next door. I still heard no answer. "Maybe it was the fifth?" I whispered to myself. I stopped at the next door and repeated my actions. I heard someone approaching the door so I smiled, thankful to have found the right room. To my surprise the door swung open, "this isn't Bucky's room. What the fuck do you want?" Natasha's icy voice met my smile, quickly turning my smile into a grimace.

"Well, clearly you know damn well what I want---ugh. This is fucking ridic-"

"There isn't anything ridiculous but as to why you're at my door. I didn't ask you to come here. If you're looking for Bucky, don't come to my door. He sure as hell isn't in here." Her voice had risen in volume. "He's too fucking hung up on y-" the door on my left swung open.

"(Y/n), I'm the fourth door down." He stepped out of his room and moved quickly to your side protectively. "Sorry, Natasha, it was an honest mistake. She didn't mean to bother you." He began to guide me away from the door as I glared at her for her attitude and words.

"Yeh, don't worry, it won't happen again." I spat back at her as Bucky practically pushed me into his room, closing the door before Natasha could return any words of her own. We heard her door slam and Bucky cringed before looking at the ceiling and rolling his eyes.

"Sorry about that...again."

"Bucky, you don't have anything to apologize about. She's being a bitch." I didn't bother with quieting my voice. I didn't know if the walls were soundproof or not, nor did I care. She could surely kill me in a second if she wanted, but at this point, I was beyond pissed and I didn't care. I normally wasn't a confrontational person, but something about Natasha put me on edge and made me crave violence.

I plopped onto the bed, head swimming with anger. Bucky got down on his knees in front of me, taking hold of my hands, enveloping them in his own.

"I think she's heading out on a mission in a few days. Let's just try and stay clear of her for now. I don't want anything to ruin my time with you, okay?"

I took a deep breath and let my eyes find his before smiling and saying: "Okay."

"Do you want to go downstairs now for what's left of your little welcoming party?"

"Sure, I don't want to be rude...well, rude to anyone else," I finished with laughter. He stood from the floor, pulling me up with him. We went back downstairs to find most of the goodies gone, which was fine considering Bucky didn't eat much and I wasn't really hungry as I had eaten a big breakfast before leaving Lynchburg. We hung around with everyone, except Natasha, who had seemingly barricaded herself in her room, having a lovely time. The crowd was full of jokers who loved having the others at the expense of their jokes. I continually caught Bucky looking at me with a grin on his face, Sam didn't miss it either because he kept calling Bucky out for it, causing us both to blush and the group to laugh. After a few hours and things were cleaned up, we went different ways. Some went to train, some to prepare for an upcoming mission, and some to relax.

"Want to sneak out of here? Go see the city," Bucky leaned in and whispered, even though we were seemingly alone.

I turned to him, a grin appearing. "Really?" I whispered back. "Yes, that'd be awesome. Let me grab some warmer clothes."

"I'll race you," he said as he was already making a mad dash for the stairs.

"Not fair!" I exclaimed, jumping up and running after him. He, of course, beat me but turned around at his door to wait for me to reach my own. He winked at me, causing me to roll my eyes and step into my room. I grabbed my coat and some warm accessories-head/ear wrap, gloves, and a big fluffy scarf.

When I stepped outside of my room, I wasn't expecting to see Bucky standing against the wall waiting, making me jump slightly, but of course, he noticed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." He snuck his arm around my hips as we walked to the elevator. We headed down and out into the cold, winter air. He pulled me closer for warmth. We walked happily along, catching up and discussing how things had been since we had parted in October. We walked around the city, taking in the tourist spots. Afterward, we went to Brooklyn. He wanted to show me where he and Steve used to live. I knew this was something he didn't share with a lot of people, so I was pleased he wanted to share it with me. Apparently, Steve had arranged to purchase the properties when he came out of the ice and got back on his feet. Bucky pulled out keys to open the door and once I stepped in, it was like stepping back in time.

"Yeh, Steve, with Tony's resources, fixed his place like it was when we were living here. He felt like it would be a nice place to get away for himself and then when he found out I was alive, he fixed this place up to try and help me remember."

"It's lovely, Bucky." I walked around inspecting all of the things from the past, afraid to touch anything, but looking at everything closely. He sat on the couch and watched me looking at everything before he realized how cold it was when he saw a chill run over my body. "Here, I'll make us some coffee." He stood and moved to the kitchen as I continued to look after thanking him.

He brought me a cup shortly and I followed him to the couch and sat beside him. I removed my shoes and pulled my feet up beside me, leaning into his side slightly.

"Do you remember anything about living here?"

"A few things. I'm remembering more, the more that Tony runs his little experiments...which has its benefits, but I'm also remembering bad things too...which sucks, but for now it's what I've got to deal with."

His face lost some of its color, his eyes losing a dash of life and his smile was no longer there, his face seemed to go blank.

I placed my head on his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck just a little to hopefully distract him. "Would you mind telling me some of the things you remember about living here?" I asked this as quietly and as gently as I could, so as not to set him off in any way.

I sensed him smiling beside me. He began to tell me everything he could remember, mostly good memories, but there were a few sad ones. He told me about the good memories he had with his family before they passed away. He told me about some good times he had with Steve, including wrestling matches and cartoon marathons when they were able to pull their money together to afford a small television set. He also explained the differences that occurred in their lives here when their parents and siblings had passed away. He shared how things had changed for them and around them, how it had brought them closer together.

"And so far, that's all I can remember....but I guess it's quite a bit considering it's 6 p.m..."

By the time he finished speaking, I had fallen even more in love with him, but I tried not to let it show. I looked at him fondly, almost in a daze, "is it really? I could care less. Can't we just stay like this forever?"

He smiled at me, putting his arm around my shoulder and pulling me as close as he could. "I'm surprised they haven't come looking for us yet, to be honest."

"I guess that's a hint we should probably be heading back?"

"Yeh," he sighed, "probably so," he said, taking the coffee cups to the sink to wash. As he ran the water to wash the cups, I stepped up behind him, wrapping my arms around his tiny waist and placing my head on his back. I couldn't muster words in the moment, I just wanted to pour out all of the love and affection I held for this man from the pores of my skin into his. He finished washing the mugs quickly but didn't attempt to turn around, instead he placed his hands and arms on mine, and simply stood like that for a moment. He slowly turned around and I looked into his face, but not for long because there was a link between us that looked and felt like the cord from Back to the Future that had just sent Marty McFly back to his own time. Before my thoughts caught up with my actions, my body was pressed into his, mouths meeting and parting quickly. His hands reached to the back of my thighs, picking me up so that I could wrap my legs around him. In the process, I kicked the counter causing us to laugh between kisses as he stepped away from the counter. He walked towards the couch, bumping into tables and chairs on the way, causing me to giggle more, breaking apart our lips. He laid me on the couch and laid down on me, holding himself up slightly with his right arm. My arms still hung around his neck before a shrill ring broke us apart. His phone, probably the loudest phone ringtone I've ever heard, was going off.

"Shit." He breathed into my face. He stood up and pulled the phone out of his pocket. "What do you want, Steve?"

"Buck, where the hell are you? We've been looking all over. Is (y/n) with you? What's going on?" I heard Steve practically shouting through the phone.

"Oops," I whispered before busting into a giggling fit, causing Bucky to lose the anger in his face and begin to smirk at me.

"Everything is fine. (Y/n) and I wanted to get out in the city. We're in Brooklyn, at the house. Can I let you go, please? We'll be back later."

"Buck, first off, you could have just told someone. Second off, I kinda need you back here."

"Why? What's going on?"

"Just need you back. We can discuss it when you get here."

Bucky sighed deeply. "Fine." He heard a returning sigh on Steve's end. "And don't sigh at me, acting like I'm interrupting your plans."

"See you soon, jerk."

"Whatever, punk."

He hung up the phone and shoved it in his pocket, looking down at me still sprawled on the couch.

"So we have to go back, huh?"

"Yeh, I guess so."

It was now my turn to sigh as I sat up, "alright, let's do this then." We grabbed everything we had brought and stepped outside, Bucky locking the door behind us. As we stepped to the curb, he began to hail a cab. I stuck my hands in his coat pocket, pulling him closer to me. He started giggling and I raised myself on my tip toes and began to stroke the inside of his neck with my nose before gradually adding butterfly kisses along the way. As he continued to attempt to get a cab to stop, the affections increased with the longer amount of time I had to wait in the cold. He began to chuckle as I tickled his neck with my tongue. A cab pulled up as he had just pulled me closer. He opened the door to the cab for me. As I climbed in I practically pulled him along behind me as I still had my hand in his coat pocket. He slid in beside me and barely got out "50th and Broadway," to the driver before I pulled his face to mine. He started to pull me closer as we kissed, but it wasn't close enough. I broke away just barely enough so that I could straddle him in the backseat, an audience of a taxi driver completely forgotten. We couldn't get enough of each other. This was something we had both felt, but not acted on. It was as if this was the last opportunity we had, last we would ever have. We wanted to completely devour each other and use each other up until there was nothing left, then come back for more. His hands grasped my back, lowering and raising depending on the moment. To have been what he had been through, for the amount of time, he hadn't forgotten how to kiss...how to touch...how to feel a woman in all of the right ways. My skin was crawling with exhilaration and my spirits soared. Before we knew it, the cab had stopped and the taxi driver had to cough loudly four times to get our attention. I was the one who finally heard him as I dislocated myself from Bucky's lips, leaning down into his shoulder and started laughing.

"Shit. Sorry, sir." I muttered loud enough for the cabbie to hear, trying to keep from laughing. Bucky brushed the inside of my thigh on accident as he reached into his pocket to get his wallet with cash and tip for the cab, causing both of our cheeks to turn scarlet. He handed the money to the driver, staring deeply into my eyes the entire time. I slid off of his lap and out of the cab first, grabbing his hand on my way out. Once the door shut, I pulled him in again, not caring who saw or who was around.

After a few moments, he pulled away, gasping, voice husky, "okay, okay, we've got to...let's just slow down," he had pulled his lips away, but he placed his forehead on mine, eyes hazy in the heat of the moment.

Breathlessly I replied, grinning, "okay. Slow down. I can do that."

He looked at me, chuckling. "Something to eat?"

"Other than you, you mean?" I replied seductively, but at seeing his eyes triple in size and his jaw drop, I stepped back to avoid crashing my head into his chest as I had to drop and grab my side in laughter.

"I was thinking more like....a burger..."

His response made tears come to my eyes from laughter and he shortly joined me.

"I guess that'll work too. Let's go." I grabbed his hand and we headed for a food truck I saw down the street. After getting our food, I saw the tower a few blocks away so we headed in that direction as we ate.

"So what do you think is going on? Why Steve needed you back?"

"Honestly....there's probably nothing going on. They probably just don't want me to be away from the tower and go off the reservation."

I stared thoughtfully ahead, contemplating how to respond to this information.

"....Bucky....is it really that bad? I mean...is the treatment and tests they're doing helping at all? Is it making things worse?"

"It's just....there's a lot to be undone. It takes time....I'm just hoping it'll work...."

"I hope, for your sake, it does too."

"....and what if it doesn't?"

"What do you mean?" His question worried me. What was he thinking? I hope he didn't mean something like he'd harm himself (the story of Jimmy wouldn't leave my mind) or go back into cryo. I don't think I could easily live without him anymore. I realize this seemed silly, but the idea of him not existing on this earth anymore completely broke everything inside of me.

"....I guess what I mean is....if it doesn't work.....what are we going to do....about us....I can't let what happened, happen again....I just can't." His argument was so reminiscent of the story Roger had told me about Jimmy.

We had reached the tower. I stopped walking and stared at Bucky, tears forming in my eyes. He stopped and turned around to look at me.

"Buc- ...I ca-...I won-....Bucky, jus-" I wanted so badly to assure him, but I was cut off by Steve stepping out and pulling us both inside.

"You guys, it's been an hour and a half. Where have you been?"

"What the hell is wrong, Steve? What is the rush? Can't Bucky live, please?" I began to yell. I was over emotional honestly, but it was called for.

"(Y/n), can you please go back to your room," Steve said, Vision appearing out of nowhere. "I need to borrow Bucky for a little while. Vision will show you where to go."

"Steve, wh-"

"(Y/n), please, it's important."

"Fine," I bit the word at him, thoroughly frustrated. I followed Vision, arms crossed in anger. Once Vision left me at my room, I decided that I wasn't going to put up with this. What the hell was so important? I snuck out of my room and went to Bucky's room first, but he wasn't there. I began to explore. I wandered around seemingly aimless for a while before I heard shouts from down a hallway I'd found on a different floor.

"Nat-calm down. Nat- listen to me! He's here, okay. He's okay. He's here." I recognized Steve's voice. Even in intense situations, his voice always remained calm and one of reason.

I stepped slowly closer and around the corner, a glass wall was revealed. This must be their training room. I peeked around the corner, not wanting to be seen, but wanting to see everything. Bucky slowly walked across the room, cautiously towards Natasha. She stopped fighting and struggling against Clint and Wanda. When she saw Bucky, understood it was him and that he was okay, her face changed completely. Clint and Wanda released her as she ran to Bucky and forced herself into his arms. He held them out, instead of enclosing them around her. His face revealed confusion, but Steve simply looked at him and gave him an "it's okay, just go with it" hand signal. It was at that moment I realized why Natasha hated me.

She was in love with Bucky.

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Part One           Part Two            Part Three           Part Four

Part Five              Part Six           Part Seven          Part Eight

Part Nine           Part Ten            Part Eleven