#i will make him op in every fic and you cannot stop me

[crocodilenjoyer]

op fic recs...2!

g

feed your plants a little sunlight by swordsmans | ambiguous setting, post-timeskip | zolu | 4.2k | complete

Instead of napping, Zoro helps. It is his job, after all.

Trochilus by stealth-black-leg | ambiguous setting, post-wano | gen, robin & crocodile-centric | 2.5k | complete

The trochilus, sometimes called the crocodile bird, is a legendary bird which was supposed to have enjoyed a symbiotic relationship with the Nile crocodile.

how to talk without speaking by swordsmans | post-shells town through pre-baratie | gen straw hats, luffy-centric | 6.9k | complete

In the beginning, Luffy does not know how to read. In the grand scheme of things, this does not matter.

Little Monsters by blue_wonderer | post-wano | gen, straw hats-centric | 7.7k | complete

Vinsmoke breathes out, a smirk on his swollen, bloody face.

“Our captain is here.”

Or

Post-Wano, some lucky (or not-so-lucky) Marines capture the still-injured Sanji and Usopp. Naturally, the rest of the crew casually rips the world apart to get them back. One lone warship never stood a chance.

The Many Marriages of the Straw Hat Pirates by LadyCrimsonAndBlack | across canon, pre- and post-timeskip | gen, straw hats-centric | 2.9k | complete

There are a lot of strange traditions to be found on the Grand Line. Sometimes, the Straw Hats get caught up in them.

(Or: The Straw Hats get married to each other. Repeatedly.)

so much like stars by blue_wonderer | post-dressrosa, pre-zou | zolu, pre-zolawlu | 12.1k | complete

“Why are you the way you are?” Law asks, gesturing to Zoro and Luffy in their entirety. “You look pathetic.”

“Luffy fell in,” Zoro shrugs. Law thinks he may be the only person in the world who can convey both “Luffy fell in, he’s such a fucking idiot” and “Luffy fell in, what else was I supposed to do but follow?” in one line.

“I’m very sorry.” Luffy reaches up and pats Zoro on the chest.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Luffy wheezes a short laugh. “I like swimming with Zoro.”

“Shut up, you little shit.”

“How about you both shut up and let me work,” Law grouses.

OR

Stargazing and snow, festivals and dreams, and the quiet change in the dynamic between Law, Luffy, and Zoro during a few cold nights on the way to Zou.

t

Seabound by AnkhPosts | au; canon timeline n/a | deuceace | 8k | complete

Ace is a selkie, making one of his periodic stops on land to catch a breather and get some ridiculously tasty human food, maybe see some sights if there are any. His pelt is safely hidden, he'll stay a day or two at most and be on his way.

Deuce is a mer, alone on the sea and traveling as he pleases for the first time in his life, and while he might not be terribly interested in actually interacting with humans it's hard not to see them as fascinating.

Ace meets Deuce. Deuce meets Ace. Neither knows the other isn't human.

The Jester whose nickname is Fate by stealth-black-leg | pre-canon | dragodile | 2.5k | complete

Crocodile believes in luck, gambling, coincidence, but not fate. He believes in free will, and that every person can choose any future they’d like for themselves, if they’re strong enough to build it.

He didn’t choose this for himself though, and if there indeed is a fate, then Fate, pardon his French, is a fucking little bitch.

By Any Other Name by ginger_snappin | au with information from wci | sanlu | 10k | complete

Sanji should stop doing this.

He recalls Lucy’s earnest smiles, the insatiable physicality of him. The tugging Sanji can feel in his gut toward his friend, an urge to follow him blindly that Sanji cannot resist.

He thinks of Lucy’s full fat stomach after a meal, sated, the murmured, “thanks for the food,” and the mismatched HUNGRY HUNGRY HUNGRY that Lucy’s soul exclaims whenever those warm brown eyes meet his own blue ones.

Sanji cannot stop.

-

A young king comes to power, and his hungry suitors follow… even the reluctant ones.

You've Got A Friend In Me by Hazel_Athena | post-timeskip, pre-egghead | zosan, perona & zoro | 19.1k | complete

Zoro grunts, likely because she hits him with more force than either of them are expecting, and then returns her surprise with one of his own by wrapping his arms around her and hugging her back.

“They hurt you?” He murmurs, and she shakes her head.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” She insists, although which of them she’s trying to reassure, she isn’t certain.

Interim Arrangements by Hazel_Athena | au, post-wano | zosan | 43k | complete

It’s so quiet in the war room that you could hear a pin drop. Not a single person dares to say a word - not even the favored princes - and all eyes remain fixed on the head of the table, where a large figure sits hunched over in its chair, clutching the latest newsreel between two massive fists.

Having been forewarned of some of the contents of said newsreel, Sanji does his best to keep anything from showing on his face, to maintain his expression in an implacable facade. He thinks he largely succeeds in controlling himself outwardly, but inwardly his gut is churning with emotion.

The newsreel twitches, and the five people not holding the paper sit up a little straighter in their seats, each of them bracing for impact without actually meaning to as slowly, oh so slowly, the paper is lowered down until it’s resting flat on the table.

“Well,” Judge says, his mouth working like he wants to spit. “This is certainly an … unexpected development.”

Stakes by CaptainJojo | post-wano | gen, luffy & zoro | 4.2k | complete

Zoro has a good grasp of what fights are- and are not- worth his time.

Or: Zoro gets lost and gets in one (1) fight about it.

(The real fight begins in chapter 2 but I'm leaving 1 in because I wrote it so it gets posted and that's the rule)

lion-skinned by kurgaya | ambiguous setting, post-timeskip | zolu | 10.6k | complete

If there was ever a reason to eat a Devil Fruit, Zoro supposes it would be in the process of saving his idiotic buffoon of a captain from a certain and most horrible death.

Familiar by NothingSoDivine | pre-canon | smoker/benn beckman | 1k | complete

"You look familiar."

The stranger chuckles. The sound warms Smoker down to his boots. "I get that a lot."

Years before being stationed in Roguetown, Smoker runs into a familiar face in a bar on the Grand Line. Unfortunately, Smoker can't quite place where he's seen the guy before...

A Little Assurance by nocturneequuis | ambiguous setting, post-timeskip | frobin | 1.1k | complete

Robin wonders how much further Franky will take himself. When does the man end and the machine begin?

e

Arctic Birds by LibbyLune | pre-canon with information from water 7 | mihawk/iceburg | 15k | complete

“Oh yeah, you want Water 7,” Shanks declares, kicking the hull of Mihawk’s small sailboat with a careless boot. “Sailing around in this piece of crap doesn’t suit the World’s Greatest Swordsman, Hawksy.”

Mihawk is a man of high standards, but the expert shipbuilding is not the only feature of Water 7 that he ends up impressed by.

The Onigiri Story by leghair | post-alabasta through the end of wano | zosan | 40.1k | complete

It had been bad enough trapped on a boat with Zoro, body and face and voice sending Sanji's imagination racing, bitter-knowing he was straight as his swords and half as sharp. So Sanji had ignored the attraction - maybe allowed himself a greedy little peek now and then, but he’d never let it become a problem. He’d never let it become anything. He'd known that's how things were going to stay and he was fine with it, he had been dealing with it, this wasn't his fault. It's not like he'd ever wanted Zoro to know.

A canonverse getting-together fic with lots of porn, some plot, and plenty of feelings, following the progression of their relationship and the canon events that impact it. A couple of common zosan tropes get flipped, there's a smidge of angst for good measure, but with a very happy ending.

Finally updated post-Wano and WCI!

nr

Chasing Flowers by taizi | probably g or t | ambiguous setting, post-timeskip | gen straw hats | 4.7k | complete

"It's an old tradition in our town; on the second week of the second month of the year, you leave flowers for the one you love, for them to follow back to you. By their house, where they work, nooks and corners that are special secrets between just the two of you."

(Luffy's crew leaves him flowers, and an old innkeeper gets drawn into the chase.)

Clinical Practice by taizi | probably t | ambiguous setting, post time-skip | chopper-centric | 2.4k | complete

"I'm his doctor!" Chopper all but shrieked, closer to hysterical than he'd ever been- because in four days time those people could really have hurt Luffy, and he was so tired of being treated like a kid. "I'm his doctor, and I'm going to find him right now!"

Inanition by taizi | probably g | ambiguous setting, post-timeskip | gen straw hats | 1.9k | complete

in·a·ni·tion, noun; lack of mental or spiritual vigor and enthusiasm; exhaustion caused by lack of nourishment.

(In which Luffy's metabolism is faster than his doctor understands.)

[adolin]

@takiki16 tags on my post are too good not to be shared! The context is wild shit that legit happened in IRL football ⚽ that I need the Ted Lasso fandom to be aware of, because it'd make for excellent fic material:

the MANAGERS #the PERSONAL DRAMA#I KNOW that ted lasso is not designed to be an actual realistic show #I KNOW that this whole thing did in fact begin as a way to soft trap Americans into watching the Prem #to the point that JOSE FUCKING MOURINHO ACTUALLY HAD A PART IN THE ORIGINAL NBC AD #I do NOT want to change the vibe of the show at all #(but like…a dramedy about the EPL that REALLY wanted to roast some fuckers would perhaps…NOT look like ted lasso #if they wanted to start with the managers it would just be two middle aged idiots with BOILING beef #who had to be physically restrained from throwing hands every other game and have personally destroyed each others’ marriages

Okay WHO would Roy have managerial beef with. I vote Arteta. Actually as @elizabear suggests, it's funnier if it's one sided

He would also instinctively dislike Rob Edwards of Luton because Jamie once said he's the hottest manager in the EPL. Roy's annoyed and he doesn't know why. (Rob Edwards is very hot)

For an example of managers throwing hands... the Tuchel/Conte handshake

In fact here's a whole compilation of managers throwing hands.

Thank you for bringing up Mourinho! This is his ad, btw. "What do you WANT Ted?" lives in my mind rent-free

After much soul-searching I've decided Roy likes Mou a lot among all the managers he's played for. YES, he is a total cunt BUT

he's really fucking funny about it. Like, really.

he's never met a referee he didn't have beef with but most of all Anthony Taylor (as a Roma fan I have to agree with him on that)

the entire 2005 Chelsea team would've died for him. I've said this before, but there can't be a Frank Lampard in TL if Roy plays the box-to-box midfielder role, so this quote about Mourinho walking into Lampard naked in the shower to give him a pep talk? That's Roy. To me.

I can't even pick a quote among all the shit he's said about all the managers he's played against, but I especially enjoy when he used to be a bitch about Pep and Pep was like "I don't know her." It was like a one-sided crush dating back from their Barca days

#if they wanted it to be about the players the literal sky is the limit. WHATEVER the writers room can come up with#it cannot come CLOSE to the batshit drama that real Sockckckckcer Playahs have amongst each other#also intricate rituals. NOT ENOUGH INTRICATE RITUALS#when Jamie scored that free kick after getting permission to be a prick Dani should have kissed him with tongue

Here's some homoeroticism:

#but TO COME BACK TO OP’S POINT ABOUT ACTUAL GAMEPLAY#I want to see Coach Roy get red carded and have to sit in the stands for the next game cursing and swearing

He'd get, like, 3 red cards a season MINIMUM. Mourinho who. Here's Klopp losing it a bit. Here's Pep being passive aggressive as fuck. Pochettino from 2 days ago. Also from last weekend: De Zerbi's "I don't like 80% of referees in England" he's so right for this.

Manager Roy would get himself red carded the week before Richmond play Chelsea away. Totally accidental. So he doesn't have to have a lil cry about it.

#I want to see what it would take to get Zoreaux sent off#and then they have to stick Bumbercatch in goal and it turns out he has some Hyper Specific Phobia about the situation#he manages to save the team but his coping mechanisms for dealing with Forcible Keeper Phobia make up the comedy B-plot of the episode#

I want CLUB RIVALRY. dunno where Richmond actually physically is but imagine if they had derbies#Ted has to be made to understand that no coach - for THIS game we will not stop till we see BLOOD#Richmond wins but bc they are playing away the home fans actively are tossing crap at them as they celebrate on the pitch#also the sprinklers come on and it’s a bus full of soaked greyhounds on the ride home

They're in West London! Maybe they just fucking hate Fulham. Or Brentford.

Actually, I've thought long and hard about Richmond's derby rivalries. Semi-canon sources say they have a bit of a West London rivalry with Brentford BUT to me it doesn't make much sense because Richmond are supposed to have been mid-table in the Prem for years, top-flight but mediocre. Brentford only made it to the Prem in 2021.

Actually, I've decided that Richmond kind of take the place of QPR for most of their history, except they didn't get relegated when QPR did. This is because 1) it'd be too many London-based clubs otherwise but, more importantly, 2) when Man City won their first title in 2012 with Agueeeeeero!!! that was against Richmond. It's funny, To Me.

Also you know Roy still fucking hates Newcastle from his Sunderland academy days. If his pundit career had lasted longer he'd be having top tier shithousery with Alan Shearer every week about it.

Anyway here's a whole youtube playlist about WILD derbies.

#ALSO BC SUAREZ IS COMING TO MIAMI - BITING INCIDENTS CAN THEY DO THAT

As an Italian I am legally obliged to SAY that if Suarez hadn't bitten Chiellini at the World Cup we would have gone past the group stage because Uruguay scored off a corner they won while Italy were all busy telling the ref that there was a fucking cannibal on the pitch. I don't forgive and I don't forget.

Anyway for context: cannibal Luis Suarez. He's a repeat offender. Someone at Richmond would think it was very funny

[finnritter]

Okay let me go off about them Nolofinwean siblings because it took me a while to learn how to love them (as opposed to the Feanorians whose raging dumpster fire of insanely codependent sibling dynamics set me ablaze on basically day 1) but it's so worth the effort to think a bit about them.

This is laced through with headcanons/personal interpretations that you can feel free to ignore, this is meant to be inspiring, not informative.

A/N from after I finished… whatever this is and noticed how long this got: Sorry op! Honestly, I meant to give you like three headcanons in a trenchcoat to light the spark for a little Nolofinwean love, but instead I wrote this, couldn’t stop and somehow created a weird clusterfuck of character-study-ish, essay-ish ranting about a bunch of dead elves. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Ok here we go:

The Nolofinweans are united by stubbornness, contradiction, and a slumbering potential to defy God and/or themselves.

The first point is basically their family trademark trait, because as we all know, every one of the Big Three Noldorin families needs one (think the Feanorian Intensity™, and the Arafinwean “Way of making you feel just slightly unsettled for some reason”).

Fights between Fingon and Turgon are a prime example of “unstoppable force vs. immovable object”. Fingon cannot be swayed, Turgon cannot be convinced. They need to agree to disagree because otherwise, they will not reach a conclusion, ever. They are very good at agreeing to disagree, mainly since Fingon has better things to do than fight and Turgon is very much in need of harmony because he is actually pretty easily upset. This does not make any of them back up from their point, ever, though.

Aredhel, unlike her brothers, has no problem with pointless arguments, but the more people tell her what to do, the more she does the opposite, less out of spite and more to prove her independence. Usually when someone tells her No she just asks her favourite cousin who is very good at enabling her. Not that she isn’t perfectly capable of enabling herself, mind you.

Argon makes stubbornness look cool and charming, mainly by having a cute, disarming smile and being the baby of the family. His supreme discipline is being stubbornly nice to the point where it really throws people off balance. He gets it from his dad who has been doing this to Feanor since he was the elven equivalent of a brooding teenager.

This makes it no surprise that lucky harp boy gets his heart broken by his best friend, right after breaking the hearts of his other best friends solely for him (Fingon and his relationship to Angrod and Aegnor after Alqualonde is honestly so juicy. More people need to write about it, but I recommend @actual-bill-potts stunning short fic to exactly this topic)

Anyway, Fingon proceeds to cross the Frozen Ice Hell burning so brightly with rage and disappointment that he probably barely feels the cold. He manages to transform all that anger into devotion to his father, though, who has been betrayed in a very similar way. Fingon understands him so well, maybe better than everyone else, and he really grows into his fathers right hand man, here. It’s also a good way of escaping his guilty conscience about his cousins’ quiet grief, and later his own brother’s devastation that he can’t allow to stir himself from his path.

Then they arrive with gritted teeth and even more reasons for anger than before, and neither Feanor nor Maedhros are even there to punch in the face. Fingolfin reverts to his carefully crafted shell of diplomacy (which will much later shatter in the most epic way possible, rip Morgoth’s ego that remains forever wrecked after that). But Fingon can’t just stand still, and so he sets out to retrieve his dimwit of a former best friend who managed to doom the two of them. And who now couldn’t even wait with being captured by the Enemy for after Fingon had very intently told him where to stick all the years he spent reassuring him that their friendship would hold despite their Finwean-exclusive family drama. When he finally finds out that Maedhros didn’t burn the ships, at least, he is actually a little deflated. Where to go with all that spite, now?

But it works out for him because Fingon might be an adrenaline junky and valiant-tm and tough as nails, but he also needs someone to have his back, if he is being honest. His father has him to do this, and he gladly does, but with his baby brother slaughtered and his other brother and sister gone, and his other former best friends, who have at least somewhat forgiven him, roaming the lands because they don’t need to run a crumbling kingdom, he has no one to stand in the wind for him. Until Maedhros, with all the white fire burning within him and his new-found gallows-humoured grit, does it for him.

So hell yeah, Fingon can kill dragons and plan battles and squeeze some time in to race his horse over the plains of Beleriand fast enough that the lashing wind in his face can make him forget how much he would like his sister to be next to him. Forget how left alone he feels, with his father being more his king than his father and his siblings gone, and he knows he can’t blame them because they’re not the Feanorians, they don’t work like that, they don’t need to constantly keep meddling with each others’ affairs to prove they still care for each other. Right? So, no hard feelings, he can do this on his own.

But Maedhros, who he liked to fluster in their youth because it was so easy while nowadays even coaxing one genuine emotion out of him is a skill he had to learn how to master first, Maedhros has his back. And it makes him brave enough to go on and laugh in the face of danger. It even makes him brave enough to take his father’s crown and clench his jaw and be a King, even though he doesn’t know what to do most of the time. He’s a good leader, but he does not enjoy being king and he honestly just wants his dad, both his parents, actually, but hey, he’s a hardened war criminal and there are still enough people around him to be strong for, so he is. Oh and he also plans a battle of the ages because he’s Fingon and Maedhros has his back and he thinks they can do this. They have braved everything life has thrown at them, so far, despite being doomed from the start, and Fingon has no time for apathy, so let’s do it. After all, what could go wrong?

While his older brother proceeds to flirt with danger, Turgon finds out the hard way that being a single dad in a wild country full of orcs and political turmoil is Not Easy and hey, he knows himself, he never really got the “home is not a place, it’s where the people you love are”-crap. Home is very much a place and it is one they will never see again so guess what, let’s build a new one. Are you sure, Aredhel, that you want to come? I know you need a front yard the size of two countries to keep you happy and I really can’t afford that much real estate. Still want to come? Okay then, I know better than to tell you No.

Here’s the thing, Turgon has definitely always been the sensitive child of this family. The one who had to leave the room when he saw his mother cry, once, as a child, the one that always valued peace and harmony more than freedom and adventure. Most people didn’t know this, though, because he was also stubborn to a fault, as mentioned above, and therefore very skilled at bottling up his emotions.

He definitely still is this child, only that swallowing his hurt over being called a killjoy by the big brother he always admired or hiding his fear over learning to ride a horse because what if he falls down and breaks his neck and through a cruel trick of fate never manages to come back from the halls? sure it’s unlikely, but WHAT IF?? (yes, he was an anxious child.)- Well, bottling up those childhood hurts is nothing against bottling up the loss of one of the two people who are known for actually being able to make him open up more, for once (the other one is Finrod - and I’m not going to spend another three pages screaming about how Turgon and Finrod are the perfect best friends because this is long enough as is - but shout at me if you want me to because it’s apparently very easy to egg me on.) Anyway, Elenwe is dead, and Argon is dead and he lives in constant fear of the rest of his family sharing this fate. But his father is the king and Fingon is unstoppable and he is under no illusion that he will ever be able to successfully protect Aredhel from herself, so leaving at least shuts the fear out, a little, because if the inevitable happens, we at least won’t be so close.

So he builds stone walls in a hidden valley, and hey, there is a very obvious metaphor here (one that I keep overusing, actually), about the walls he builds within himself as well, and so he leaves and works hard on not letting more fear in, and not letting any of the ever-present fear out.

It finds him anyway. Aredhel dies in front of him and he can’t even tell her I told you so, because a) she’s dead and b) he could never have foretold how she would sacrifice not only her life but her freedom and her independence, the two things she treasured the most, for one person like this. He could never have predicted Maeglin, and hey, he can’t predict him in the end, either. Fun parallels. Maybe. (Again, I’m not talking about Turgon and Maeglin at length here, and neither about Turgon and Idril because once I start, I will not stop. Just know that there are a lot of complex, loving and oh so painful family relations here.)

Then his father gets dumped dead onto his doorstep and while Fingon curses the audacity that the body hasn’t even been brought back to him after he was forced to take on his legacy, Turgon feels almost like he’s being made fun of. “Hey, look what you’re missing in the Outside World you so arrogantly turned your back on. Mind to come back someday? You know you still have a daredevil big brother out there. Or do you want to wait for his duty-free delivery as well?”

And yet, the moment the host of Gondolin leaves its protective walls is the moment that Turgon decides he will not let his fear rule him any longer. He has tried to crack and break his own walls down for once. Maybe it was after two mortals entered his city, and his heart, unexpectedly and those years between them leaving and the Nirnaeth have been used quite effectively to hype himself up. “You can do it. It's only a step out of your comfort zone. You haven’t learned to ride a horse by never getting into the saddle.”

So he finally does, and, well, it famously does not go well for him. His cries for help to the Valar also don’t go well. Oh, also his best friend has been brutally murdered and he feels guilty mourning more than strictly necessary about it because. He wasn’t there. It’s not like he has a right to play the dead best friend-card, here.

And then there’s the fun time at the end of his life where he has mostly given up, but he also somehow adopted another human. He ignores his warnings, sure, but not out of hard feelings towards him, only out of hard feelings about everything else. The adopted human also becomes a beloved son-in-law, which are great news and he’s ignoring that this will eventually break his daughter's heart. He also gets to meet his grandson, which are equally great news and he’s ignoring how that tiny little infant with the weirdly small ears is destined to carry the whole fate of elfdom on his shoulders.

I would love to give you more Turgon feels that aren’t so sad, op, because there are some, but they are very neatly burrowed under despair and fear and pride, and you need to ram through an iron will and claw through so much deep-rooted grief first to get to it, and I don’t have the time today.

So let’s proceed with mean girlboss instead. Aredhel is brave and she is reckless, but not in the effortlessly heroic way Figon is. She knows very well how to only endanger herself, and so she does, constantly. It’s been joyful and bold in her youth, and now, on this new continent that finally seems to be able to stand up to her defiance, it’s gritty and a bit ugly, honestly. But she can’t help feeling like the ground will break open under her feet if she stands still on it for too long. She can’t help feeling betrayed because she didn’t leave home and her mother for a world that seems to make everyone so miserable all the time. 

And yes, honestly, she went with Turgon mostly because everyone around her thought it was a bad idea. But she knows it wasn’t. Not for the first 200 years at least. And then she convinces him that letting her leave isn’t a bad idea, either. And it isn’t. At first.

When she is bewitched, in one way or another, by the dark elf looming in the creepy forest - the first person, by the way, who seems to care Not At All for all the drama going on in the rest of the world, which, if anything, is a bonus point in her book - she feels the same way she does when climbing a steep cliff edge without safeguarding. It’s still fun and games, she thinks, if I am allowing myself to be lured in by him. He has no power over me, at least not more than I let him have. Oh, and Turgon would be so furious if he saw my playing with fire like this, because he still doesn’t trust me.

She loves Eöl the same way she loves every reckless action she makes to sunder herself from the prospect of seeing herself out of other people’s eyes. She does love him. At first.

When his love grows from the captivating possessiveness she liked to play with originally, to a stifling force that tries to constrain her, she laughs in his face. This has never worked before, not even people that had her well-being in mind have managed to hold her back. But Eöl is a master of his craft and there is one little thing that tips the scale in his favour. Aredhel would never have anticipated how all-encompassing the love for her own child would be.

Oh, she thinks as the father of said child begins to tie them tighter to his realm every day, I might have miscalculated. 

Because while her claims to be with him out of her free will might not have been as true as she had tried to tell herself all this time, she could have run as soon as she noticed the trap shutting close. She might have made it out by screaming and biting and kicking as usual, and put this twisted marriage in her scrapbook of “whoops that was a close call”-scenarios. But she can’t do that, for Lómion’s sake.

So she’s patient. She can be patient. You have to be patient if you want to be a good hunter, and she is a great one. She takes him and runs when there is an opportunity. She doesn’t stop to fight as she would have if Lómion wasn’t there, and wasn’t terrified, and wouldn’t, in a forced, painful way, still love the man who had begotten him and who proves a threat to them now.

She brings Lómion back to Gondolin because all the “I told you so”-s won’t embarrass her more than she wants her child to be safe. She would love to just take him and live with him in the wilderness, she has survived the Grinding Ice, she would make it as a nomad in Beleriand. Lómion would make it, too, because he is clever and resilient and stubborn in a way only a Nolofinwean could be. 

But she notices, and this is strange to her at first, that she won’t risk it. Not his life, not his future. Not without any kind of safety net. Because her love for him is unconditional and yet tied to a responsibility she has never known before.

Is this, she asks herself, how her parents feel about her? How Turgon, who always thinks thrice about everything he does, felt when he didn’t even hesitate before jumping after his daughter into the icy water all those years ago? How did they learn to let go? Did they ever?

She will never know because she dies before ever seeing her son fully grow up. It’s worth it, in the end, her life is just one more thing she gladly gives up for Lómion, along with her freedom. It’s worth it also for the knowledge that Eöl has to live with the fact that he killed what he - sickly and possessively - loved most. Even though she hopes that he won’t stay alive very long afterwards. She would have liked to do it herself, if Lómion wasn’t there to see, but in this case she just hopes for fate, or her brother, to do her one last favour. No one, after all, can force her to do anything without regretting it.

And lastly, Argon’s part in his family’s tale is short but no less important. His older siblings have a story, a character arc to conclude, which they handle more or less gracefully. Argon is a means to an end.

Argon is, kind of, what makes his family pursue the Ice without losing their sense of what it means to be a family.

Argon is the one who goes to find Fingon after Alqualonde, and makes sure he sees a healer because while he understands that guilt and angst and existential dread easily drown out something minor like this, he also finds it advisable for his brother to have the bleeding gash in his shoulder treated.

He is the one who always makes sure to greet Aredhel with dry new gloves or a strip of meat jerky or at least some carefree chatting whenever she comes back from a scouting trip.

He is the one who takes care to slip through to the front of their trek once in a while to see how Fingon and his father are doing and brings them news from the others.

He is the only one who occasionally brings up their mother, usually out of the blue and in a sad but lighthearted way. “oh man mum would definitely hate how i just wiped the blood from that stringy half-cooked piece of meat from my mouth with my sleeve. sorry mum! we miss you.” (he maybe misses her most, out of his siblings. but his siblings don’t cry, so he doesn’t either, not when anyone sees.)

He is the one who carries little Idril on his shoulders or pulls her on a sleigh when she gets tired, always with a bright smile and a joke, because, as her youngest, fun-est uncle he has a task to fulfil that he takes seriously.

He is also the one who holds Turgon back when he tries to jump back in after Elenwe once again, even though they all know she must be lost by now. He holds his brother, who was already an adult when he was just born, and strokes his back and kisses his hair until the rest of his family is there.

Argon is the one who jumps into that first battle because he is euphoric to have made it so far, and because he is young and stupid and owns a sword that he hasn’t used for something else than splitting wood before. And he fights like only someone not yet weary of war can, and then he dies before that sentiment can ever change. Is this a blessing or a curse? His siblings are never quite sure, but they miss him like hell. And while his presence was what had held them together until now, his death breaks them apart with nothing to putty the cracks.

So yeah, Argon’s death is the first and it’s quick and brutal and the only one out of his siblings (very character-defining) deaths that feels horrendously, horrifyingly unfair. “Look at this”, their Doom seems to say. “You braved the Ice, and for what? This is what will happen to all of you. In case you had forgotten.”

But while his death was a nudge from the narrative to let go of all hopes that this might not turn out to be a tragedy, his siblings' ends are, while comparably tragic, the perfect ways for each to end their character arcs.

Fingon dies in the first battle he knows he has lost, and he looks death in the eye and probably grins. They can’t wipe this last spiteful grin off his face even as they stomp him into the ground. 

Turgon dies after screaming about a victory he long stopped believing in. He gets buried in the rubble of the place he built to ground himself, and honestly, there could not be a better grave for him.

Aredhel dies by the hands of her biggest miscalculation. She would have preferred it to be a feral boar or a rapid stream, but honestly, looking into the eyes of the first person she truly loved unconditionally and knowing that she has saved him is not a bad way to go either.

…

Tl;dr: The Nolofinweans are cool and sad and tragic and I hope that you have some more feelings for them now, op. But if you don’t, don’t sweat it, they’ll sneak up on you some day and start growing on you like a festering parasite until you, seemingly out of nowhere, adore them. Or well, at least that’s what it was like for me.

Heyyyy in the most genuine way possible what’s so great about the nolofinweans? Like clearly they are great, lots of y’all love them but I look at lucky harp man, mean girlboss, turgon and the other one and I get no feelings. Where are the feelings, y’all are having fun with the feelings and I want some

[wintersoldierland]

not too broken to fix

part 3 of witch bucky au, which can be found here

also on ao3

|

For a long while, he doesn’t remember his name.

Not just because of the HYDRA but because of the many many memories, tangled together. Thousands of years all bound by his memory, different names, genders, religions, races. He remembers them all yet none of them.

He remembers being Veles, the Slavic god; Tezcatlipoca, an Aztec deity; Anulap, a god of magic in Truk Island mythology; Hecate of the Greeks; Baba Yaga of Russian folklore; a witch in eastern Europe, over and over again; a witch in Salem, burning bright with the flames of stakes.

He remembers it all.

Most of all, he remembers Tony. Not always named that, not always looking like he does now, but he remembers his soul, bright with creation. His wife, companion, husband, lover, forever love.

He remembers it all and none of it.

It’s confusing, so he runs. He gets on a plane, then a train, then a bus, and ends up in rural Azerbaijan, surrounded by mountains and old, abandoned villages. Something is tugging him there, so he sets a base in one building and goes off to explore.

It feels strangely familiar as if he walked those streets before, and when he stands on top of the mountain, with the sun slowly setting around him, he knows where did the memory come from. He looks down, takes a deep breath and throws himself off the ledge.

For a second, there’s only wind and quietness, but then his memories surge up and James takes a deep breath of the cold, mountain air, before calling his magic to him and changing shape.

A raven soars over the hills and James’s mind heals.

He lets out a happy sound and lets the wind take him, over the familiar mountains and long-abandoned villages. Over paths lit with magic and old stories, forgotten for generations. James soars and feels free.

It’s something he forgot about, but now it sings in his blood. A witch cannot be tamed, cannot be bound. A witch of Old Magic is always wild.

James relishes in his newfound freedom and his mind drifts to Tony. His Tony, who exists in this world, who is as brilliant as always, a creator to the bone.

There’s a reason why he was the deity of creation so many times, even without direct magic in his soul. They’re tied together and James knows he’ll come back to him. Sooner or later he’ll come back when he puts himself back together enough to protect his heart. His little genius.

He flies for miles, never tiring, magic surging in his small body, thousands of years of memories slowly starting to set in their place.

James remembers their last meeting, how small but fierce Tony was, how curious. How his soul recognized James’s, even amidst the magic and darkness of the All Soul’s Day. If he could smile, he would.

There’s something soothing in seeing the lands below him pass, in the cold air of the wind, of the Old Magic of the Earth. James can feel it calling to him, the skies rejoicing that he’s back. It feels like coming to the childhood home, not quite where his heart lies now but filled with good memories. He flies and flies and his magic trails behind him, a bright blue hoe on a black sky.

He thinks of Tony and his heart sings, anticipating their meeting, even as he lands and gets lost in the small, people-filled cities near the rivers. James soaks up the atmosphere, builds himself back, brick by brick, learns to smile again. There’s a lot that can’t be fixed so soon, even if his months of travels, but it’s a start. He’s not scared of himself anymore.

James starts to practice his magic again. Helps the villagers, makes flowers for the girls, makes butterflies from his hands, heals a pregnant woman. He heals others and by that, he heals himself.

It feels good to be useful again. He’s always been a helper, even as a god. Put on the Earth to aid humans, mortals, in their short lives. Make it a bit easier. He feels more like himself, more like Bucky Barnes, more like Veles and Anulap, like Evelyn of the Rhear village, helping her neighbours with her gentle magic; like a witch.

It’s good.

He comes back to Irland, where he traces back the steps of druids he once belonged to, visits Newgrange and spends the winter solstice there, laughing when the rays of Saturn and the Sun warm up his core. He revisits his many roots, takes from the Earth and gives back. 

Eventually, James visits Peggy Carter who’s old and weak but her spirit is strong. She remembers him as the witch, not as Bucky Banes, but James just smiles and presses something into her shaking hands.

“You remembered,” she says softly, watching the small stone statue with gleaming emeralds emerge. James smiles bitterly.

“It’s a work in process.”

She just laughs. “You’re a good man. A good witch. It is my time, isn’t it?”

He sighs and squeezes her hand with his metal one, so reminiscent of the black one he always has. The price of his magic. “It’s close,” James admits.

Peggy just nods, content. “I had a good life,” she tells him. “I love my husband very much, and maybe I’ll meet him this time.”

James looks at the energy around her and chuckles when he notices the fierce pink hue around her heart. “He loves you too, very much. I don’t know the future, but you’re strong. Sometimes it takes a bit of waiting.”

“You know something about it,” Peggy snickers. For a second, his magic works and James sees her as young and beautiful as she was during the war, dressed in her uniform. It makes him warm.

“It’s worth it,” he replies. 

“I know.”

They sit in silence some more before she stirs again. “It’s time for you to go,” she says. “Thank you for visiting.”

James laughs and kisses her forehead. “I had something to return to you.”

They don’t say goodbyes, they’ll meet again. Sometime.

He leaves, feeling lighter than he has in years, and then promptly escapes New York before Steve can find him. James remembers him, he really does, but he’s not ready to come back yet. There are things waiting for him still.

This time, he doesn’t take the plane, he just changes into a raven and flies, for miles and miles, watching as land turns to water and then back to land again before the Andes start towering over him. There, James finds his old path and lands on a ledge.

The old kingdom stretches below him, bright green and pulsing with life. James can feel the pollution of humans who have no idea just how old and powerful those lands are, so he sits down and breathes slowly.

His magic stretches over the jungle and the earth welcomes him, recognizing him even with centuries that have passed. James smiles and lets himself get lost in slowly healing what’s broken. Countless souls come to kneel before him, and then go home, where they belong.

It’s exhausting, but also rewarding, healing something so old and powerful, fixing the damage of years of abuse. 

He gets a piece of himself there, a bloody and important one.

The piece of a fierce witch, drawing with blood on people’s faces, standing in the flames and laughing in the faces of gods. Someone bold and cruel, someone capable of anything. It’s not pretty, but James feels stronger, with his dark parts and bad memories.

There’s a weight on his shoulders when he leaves but he stands straighter.

It takes James a few months, and it feels simultaneously like seconds and forever. After all, what are months next to eternity? And what are months while waiting to be reunited with your heart?

He doesn’t hurry though, because he knows Tony will understand. It doesn’t matter if the man remembers because even if he does, he’ll understand. His love is incredibly forgiving and kind. It only makes James love him more.

James keeps tabs on the Avengers, smiles and huffs at Steve, stares at the image of Tony Stark on a shitty TV deep in Bulgarian mountains, smirks when he sees another HYDRA base destroyed. He does his fair share of destroying and dismantling, but it’s not a priority now.

All he wants to do is gather his pieces, glue himself back together and get back to his love.

It’s only right that the day he deems himself right enough is All Soul’s Day. Now called Halloween, he knows, it’s cliche and tacky and the power cracks in the air. Nature doesn’t forget, and neither does James.

He gets on a plane and lands in New York well into the night, and it’s only there that he realizes that something is wrong. Someone is using magic, Old Magic, and using it wrong. James growls when the Avengers appear on the screen fighting and old woman. A wannabe druid at that.

James rolls his eyes and then gets to work.

At the end of the day, he has Tony Stark in his arms, smiling into his neck and his heart feels whole. James doesn’t kiss him yet, because it’s not necessary. Their souls know each other, this meeting a mirror of their last one, and James just closes his eyes, rejoicing in the moment.

There will be time for explanations yet.

[heresathreebee]

Silver Ghosts

[A Rick Flag fic]

On the first of each month, each member of GFS will write a drabble of 1k words or less based on a selected prompt and using a character played by Joel Kinnaman. 

March 2022's prompt: The world was collapsing, and the only thing that mattered to him was that she was alive.

Masterlist other GFS projects

Tag(s) 16+ | mature language, descriptions of sex, first person Rick Flag POV, noire overtones, vague religious references, implied necromancy. 

The world was collapsing, and the only thing that mattered to me was that she was alive. 

Dubois was right, maybe I am whipped. 

The year is 2015, just before I met June. Everyone in the world is obsessed with Capes– all excitement and not enough fear. And I was supposed to be running black ops missions to hunt felony committing metahumans for capture. 

I was never meant to be here. 

Here. Champagne and an indoor hot tub, our shoes littered on the clean, carpeted floor. She tugs on the ends of my loose bow tie to pull me into another kiss, not caring that her $2,000 dress was soaked through. She'd steal another one, a better one. 

My hand caresses the back of her head to pull her deeper into me. She always wants to be close and I always need her closer. I had pulled her into the jacuzzi knowing come daylight, she'd be gone without a trace again just like always. 

Damn that woman...

Breaking the kiss, I can feel her smile against my lips as she whispers, "can you use those handcuffs on me tonight, Colonel?" 

She knows I love it when she calls me that. My pants are tight and it's not just the water making them so. When we fuck, it's slow and sensual. Every sigh that falls from her lips is soft, sometimes it's my name or a curse, and she doesn't mention that the fingers of my right hand are tangled in her bound ones. When I spill my seed inside her welcoming warmth, I cannot hold back those three little words that terrified me the most. 

"I love you," I breathe into her neck. I roll my hips harder as I come down from my high and say, "I love you darlin'", over and over again. 

She doesn't say it back, but I was sick with love and thought she meant it when she wrapped her legs around my hips after. I was such a hopeless fool back then.

I didn't see her again after that. 

For years after my failure to capture, Waller never stopped wanting her. "She could be the single greatest asset this country has ever seen." 

Magic users were our greatest allies in the purely hypothetical dogfight that Waller expected from Superman, who most considered a god amongst men. But my part in her life? That was over. I searched and I searched under the pretense of imprisonment at Belle Reve, but I never got close to her again.

Always one step behind. 

We both learned about each other during our time together. If she didn't want to be caught… then she simply would not be. It was a fool's errand we were after. She was powerful beyond limitation and could not sit still long enough to trap physically or emotionally. 

I tell myself I wish I had just another chance, but even while I was with Dr. Moon, I knew my idiot heart would have told her I still loved her all over again. 

It is 2021 when I realize just how stupid I've been. Waller's back up plan stabs me in the heart with a piece of ceramic tile and looks like he's going to cry doing it. I'm on my back bleeding out. I can feel every desperate and frantic pump of my heart like a feral animal trying to claw its way out of my ribcage and it hurts. 

The last thoughts on my mind are not of giant alien starfishes and corpsified Corto Maltesian children. They are of her and what could have been if she had just let down her walls and admit she loved me back. Did I ever truly think she would? I realize I never knew fantasy from reality when it came to her. 

I have no idea how much time has passed. All I know is the taste of copper and ash like dirt in my cottonmouth and a sharp ache over my heart. My lungs burn as they gasp for air and the world is dark grey around me. I cannot move my arms nor feel my legs except for a cold chill that creeps in on me. I have never in all my ears been so afraid. I am buried alive in what I can only surmise as rubble. 

When I try to scream, nothing but a troubling, quiet wheeze escapes. I try again, this time something like a pained grunt escapes. But who would hear me from my grave? 

There's ringing in my ears that decrescendos into the sound of shifting rock and something else. It sounds like voices from so far away and it stupidly gives me hope. I try to scream again but I can't– despite my desire to live, I have not the strength to beg for it, so I pray instead. It is the first time since my childhood I remember believing someone could hear me. 

I feel a weight lifted off of me. For a moment I believe I have died again as bright light spills over sensitive eyes, but the pain of breathing and seeing and being is too great and too familiar to be of heaven or hell. I can hear shouting but it's muffled like an ocean lives between myself and them, all I can make out is my name. 

Rick. Rick. Rick. 

I do not realize how cold my skin is until I feel warm hands on my face, each like a caress from the summer sun that makes your skin tingle. Something bumps my nose, something brushes my cheeks, something blocks the blinding light all around me. I open my eyes just a bit and see her. 

The world was collapsing, and the only thing that mattered to me was that she was alive. I croak her name hoarsely. 

"I love you," I say, "I'm sorry…" 

I have so much to tell her that I'm not even sure what exactly I'm trying to apologize for.

In return, she shakes her head, tears pouring down her beautiful face as she replies and her voice is sweeter than any church choir and stronger than any hurricane, earthquake, or tsunami combined.

"You're not allowed to die, Colonel." 

And where she wills, the grass bends and the wind whips and the mountains bow. If she commands it, the universe obeys. So I will not die, at least, not today. 

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

I feel bad sending this because it's such a broad question, but it's also a little bit your fault because you wrote "Wearing the Faces of Men" and now I'm reading it (love it, but stop making me feel Emotions about Caterpie): Twilight and Pokemon -- how would you go about blending them? I know Harry Potter magic and Meyer vampires don't mesh so well, but maybe pokemon and vampires could coexist. Or would that depend on whether the average pokemon poses any kind of physical threat to a vampire? I'm going to keep thinking about this, but very curious to know your thoughts, even if that thought is, "Don't."

OP is referring to Wearing the Faces of Men, one of those fics that was clearly written by me. All you need to know is there's Pokémon involved. It's a thing.

Anyway, onto your question.

Well, for one, we're in that world where if there were Pokémon in the Twilight world (or vampires in the Pokémon world) then this would always be the case, both worlds would be very different than what they are in canon. However, unlike Harry Potter, this isn't a shot in the head.

This is because Pokémon don't have a secret, superior, society that would have been demolished by vampires (or else wizards would be the vanguard against vampires). Pokémon are simply Pokémon, they exist in the world and have varying relations with human society that are both good and not so good.

Now, would human Pokémon trainers become a thing in this world? Would the obsession with Pokémon make society turn the way it does in the Pokémon world? Would the Volturi even exist? Hard to say.

Off the top of my head...

I imagine most Pokémon are not threats to vampires. Powerful Pokémon are very rare, generally Pokémon trained by humans will be more powerful than your standard wild Pokémon. Your average Pikachu is not going to have any effect on a vampire.

You would need an absurdly powerful Pokémon to pack enough firepower to make it through vampire skin. And even then vampires regenerate very quickly. Though I imagine powerful Psychic, Ghost, Fairy, etc. type Pokémon could do significant damage. Then there are the Pokémon that are pretty much gods, who can turn back time, create false realities, etc.

However, I'm going to go on the assumption that a) Pokémon cannot become "vampires" b) Pokémon are not a natural source of food for vampires (still human blood or bust).

What I'm getting at here is that I don't think Pokémon and vampires come into conflict. I imagine what we get is a hybrid world that is mostly Pokémon like but has the Volturi.

Oh, the Pokémon are well aware that vampires exist and they prey on humans, but humans don't listen to them and for the most part it doesn't concern them (unless they become very attached to their trainer/owner in which case they will defend their human to the death).

I imagine the Volturi live in the Pokémon world's answer to Italy (in an as of yet unreleased game, no doubt), and pose as a kind of Elite 3, where they have their own absurdly powerful Pokémon recruited in part to do battle against the Pokémon of the Romanians/Egyptians/Newborn Armies/etc. who are treated as equal members of the Volturi. (Aro likely has a habit of collecting not only gifted, psychic, humans to turn into vampires but also very powerful Pokémon, he too, has his eye on Pikachu just like Team Rocket).

Plucky humans come by every once in a while after collecting all the Italian badges to do battle with them. Aro thinks it's great.

Bella starts her Pokémon journey when she's nine because Renee wants her out of the house in the tiny, barely on the map, town of Forks. Her starter Pokémon which adores her is likely deathly afraid of Edward when they inevitably run into him. Edward probably eats it behind her back, which devastates Bella and makes her even more emotionally dependent on him. This somehow leads to either Bella dying or becoming a vampire.

Carlisle is an avid supporter of Pokémon rights and petitions to eliminate Pokémon battling: no one listens to him and no one cares. He has mixed feelings when he hears about N, a continent over, who had the right idea but also had to go and mix it with domestic terrorism. Now people take Carlisle even less seriously than before.

Esme is now a Chansey that Carlisle picked up in a hospital after she suffered the devastating loss of her egg. It dotingly goes to work with him and cleans the house. Chansey Esme is living her best life, Edward thinks Chansey Esme and Carlisle are married, Carlisle can't dispute it because it's not... wrong...

[herglowinggirl]

Hello, familiar anon here, I didn't ask the question about an SOK ending where Yun lives and gains redemption. I also wouldn't mind having my own tag. I haven't found any other evidence of Yun shipping Kyoshi and Rangi outside of "The Boy From Makapu". How does Kyoshi view Yun later in her life( up to the first year after "The Meeting", creating Kyoshi Island nearly 25 years later, the last years of her life)? Would Kyoshi ever mention or talk about Yun after the events of The Shadow of Kyoshi?

hello! and yes I have some thoughts on this and how it would impact the advice Kyoshi gave to Roku and Aang. this got long but I’d love to break down parts of it to write fic, which I think I will do and perhaps post before Kyoshi Fortnight. But I digress, it’s long enough that I have decided to use subtitles. If anything skip to the end about the advice she gave Roku and Aang I think it’s most relevant to what I want to say and also my favorite part.

what I talk about under the cut: the ways I believe yun’s death would impact kyoshi’s actions after tsok and what the advice she gave aang and roku actually means (my thoughts on “only justice will bring peace” means)

would kyoshi talk about yun during her lifetime?

Yes. First off, it would be impossible to avoid him in the political landscape, because it is mentioned that he passed lots of judgements and signed treaties, ect. Although Kyoshi has grown in her leadership style and it’s turned a little (a lot) anti-establishment, she would still need to deal with the fallout of Yun not being the Avatar, because there would be a need to re-sign treaties and settle disputes with people seeking to take advantage of others now that the Avatar has “changed” would have to be dealt with and in tandem, Yun’s legacy.

But also, in a duology that features grief, I find it a natural continuation of the narrative that Yun would be mourned. You don’t stop knowing or loving someone after they pass, and I feel like mourning all of Yun—the boy he was, where he came from, his legacy, the decisions he made, the impact he had on the people around him, even how he hurt people—is only natural and is slightly unavoidable. I think Kyoshi mourns all of her deceased loved ones. 

Just, like the concept of this: she’s always hated pai sho but now when she faces a board in her gut and in her throat things feel wrong because it reminds her of what Yun had to do to survive. A breeze smells like the flour and air Kelsang sent into her face the moments before everything changed. She collects pebbles that Lek would’ve liked. Rangi brings her fire lilies for an anniversary and she starts crying. She sings songs with Wong that were her parent’s favorites that coincidentally, Kelsang knew too.

community in grief and kyoshi’s relationships

He was Rangi’s friend, too. Auntie Mui and Hei-Ran are sure to mourn him in their own ways. In tSoK Kyoshi calls her team Avatar a group of contradictions and misfits and in his way, Yun was too. The false Avatar. What a title! 

A continuation of the concept: Rangi and Kyoshi remind each other of him every day for a while, swapping stories about him when it gets to be too much, making eye contact when they can hear his voice making light of something stupid an official has said. Hei-Ran makes her do drills she made Yun do. Auntie Mui makes his favorite dish on his birthday that they do not pass in silence, because then what would they be, that group of misfits, to forget another outcast? If they don’t mourn the boy from Yokoya who will mourn them, or who would’ve mourned them if they hadn’t been so lucky? Who will care for the beggars and orphans of the world if not the Avatar who was once one of them and her companions? In a way, the retribution and pain of it all is justice for the life that Kyoshi took. Like, there’s just so much to unpack in the way she says “Was I right about anything at all? What will they say about me? Avatar Kyoshi, who killed her friend because she couldn’t save him?” But I don’t think her guilt would silence her. 

That being said, Yun was fundamentally a victim of a system that failed him. The same one that failed Kyoshi. In another way, her actions are justice on a world that failed her and her best friend and the similarities they shared, and she’s able to take those actions because of the way that Yun impacted her, for better or for worse. So yes, I think during her lifetime, she would speak of Yun and who he was, not letting people forget the ways they (and she) failed him and how easily everyone wants to forget their failure. It brings me to the way she was so angry with the Earth Kingdom establishment for discarding him and trying to hide history away. I don’t think she’d ever do that, even if she did...uh, dispatch him.

kyoshi, immortality, and her role as an avatar

I’d like to turn to two passages:

Kyoshi: “The way you describe it, you’d have to decide what version of yourself you’d be stuck as, forever.”

Lao Ge: “Exactly! Those who grow, live and die. The stagnant pool is immortal, while the clear flowing river dies an uncountable number of deaths.”

and

In the future, perhaps, she’d become finalized like carved stone. It would be easier to deal with the world then. She could only hope.

[...]

She still had to be careful not to lose her balance and fall. Kyoshi kept her eyes focused on her difficult path, sometimes stumbling but making sure to catch herself, taking one step at a time.

This isn’t directly related to what I think she would say, but more about how she lets her experiences, and therefore, her experiences and relationship with Yun, affect who she is. Here, F.C. Yee is detailing the person we see in her cameo in A:tLA. It’s a testament to her growth, yes, but also to how she lived so long. She’s allowed to grow now, while she’s young and still learning. But eventually Kyoshi’s growth will wane, leaving us with the iron woman we saw in A:tLA. 

Remember when I said I would call F.C. Yee a sap for the very last Kyoshi POV line? It’s the last sentence in my second excerpt, is that Kyoshi is allowing herself make mistakes. It’s pretty obviously a little deeper than the concept of walking down a slope: She became one of the most revered Avatars, we know how her story ends, if not lots of the in-betweens, but F.C. Yee tells us right here in that sentence. She changed and she learned. 

I think, however, that eventually she had to pick a place to stop in order to stop aging. If I had to pick a point where she became “immortal” I’d pick Rangi’s peaceful and timely death surrounded by her loved ones on Yokoya (not Kyoshi Island since I’m going to maintain that her A;tLA cameo was “immortal” Kyoshi) and I think Lao Ge killed her—or at least convinced her to let go.

further thoughts on her longevity: rangi’s role and future

Ok before anybody comes into my inbox like “um zey herglowinggirl I need you to know that actually Rangi also lived to 230 😌″ because I understand the sentiment it’s more like here’s what I’d like to discuss: Kyoshi can’t be immortal around Rangi because Rangi is in so many ways her catalyst for growth. First off, it would be completely out of character for Rangi to be immortal, because she’s constantly moving and being and feeling and judging and that changes her. Positive jing. And Lao Ge says it: “those who grow, live and die.” Rangi believes in the best and strives for the best, for perfection. For Kyoshi to freeze herself and become immortal, that would require picking an imperfect state. And as we know, Sei’naka women do not accept imperfection 😤. 

Although Rangi promises to always be by Kyoshi’s side, I think in the latter years of Kyoshi’s live it’s more like the impact that Rangi has had on her in that frozen state. That voice of Rangi’s is part of Kyoshi in those years. However, without Rangi, it is unlikely that Kyoshi will always or commonly choose to act on it. It’s stated multiple times throughout the novels that Rangi is Kyoshi’s center and that she doesn’t know who she’d be without Rangi, but I think the logical conclusion is immortal. With Rangi’s death she becomes her own center by stopping her growth; with Rangi’s death she just becomes...that stone she was talking about, where it does get easier to make decisions because you’re not striving to constantly change and grow. It’s almost a coping mechanism, if you will. Because Kyoshi is more than Rangi, can function without Rangi, it’s just not necessarily pretty.

lao ge’s role and future

Which brings me to my “in my personal version of canon Lao Ge kinda maybe killed Kyoshi” point. Rangi is in no way Kyoshi’s morality, but she is very much the idealistic ‘better’ half. With this catalyst of hope and change gone, I think back to the creation of the Dai Li—it very much sounds to me like something Jianzhu would do. Kyoshi, who had previously been the breakdown of negotiations, created a secret op police force? 

I think the moment Kyoshi started being the establishment, the moment she was the band-aid instead of the solution (much like Yun was, hint hint) Lao Ge would’ve paid her a visit. Either this or the creation of the Dai Li created a catalyst for perhaps an existential crisis, perhaps just being tired, perhaps simply knowing what is best...Kyoshi is, and always will be, a sworn criminal who cannot uphold the law, only her own judgements. She is both the law and the breaking and bending of it, and when she loses this balance when Rangi falls from her side and she becomes her own rock I think it would swing her away from her center, and this is where she becomes immortal. Eventually, it would become enough of an issue for people to intervene and tell her that her time as an Avatar is coming to an end. 

advice to future avatars

This is my favorite point and I’ll tie it back to Yun in just a second. I have posted about thinking about the impact of Yun’s death on Kyoshi and how that would’ve impacted her legacy and the advice she gave Roku and Aang before. Honestly what strikes me is how proud Kyoshi would be of Aang. The way that each Avatar must learn to forge their own way and become their own person and what their era needs, balancing themselves, is something so lovely. I think Kyoshi would’ve absolutely loved how Aang took the advice of his predecessors and said “no, I know what would be better for me,” and I think post-tSoK Kyoshi, who has learned she has to forge her own way and style as a leader, would love and be so proud of him for that. 

However, that doesn’t mean that her advice doesn’t have weight. I think mainly her “immortal” phase would perhaps have an impact on the way Yun impacts her advice. I think “only justice will bring peace” also speaks to the finality of death. Just like immortality, death keeps growth from happening. “only justice will bring peace” is also a nod to the way you must learn to cope with your actions and the way you feel about them. It’s also about Aang’s inner peace, which is something I don’t think I’ve ever seen mentioned. Everyone always wants to talk about what he should’ve done and how Kyoshi was right because she told Aang about her choice to let Chin die, but I think she actually guided him to the idea that you should be ok with yourself. To be confident in what you do and take up responsibility for your actions. Kyoshi wasn’t telling him murder was good. She was telling him she owned up to her actions and chose to make those decisions as an Avatar. To me, this finality speaks of growth after Yun’s death and the end of tSoK. She has grown and then frozen, but that means she has changed.

And although I don’t have an answer for what advice she might’ve given Roku, I think it’s a good way to interpret this. The only thing keeping Kyoshi from being honest about Yun’s death is the fact that Zoryu has “Yun” locked up. I think this is likely one of her biggest regrets, that she cannot be honest and responsible for something that weighs so heavily on her soul. This, I think, guides her advice. Only justice will bring peace. Now that I’ve thought it out, perhaps it wasn’t Lao Ge, and perhaps it was the idea that Yun had never been done justice and perhaps that turmoil never changed, which made her long-lived but not quite immortal. She cannot quite know the peace of death nor of life.

I think she must’ve told Roku that no matter what, he must accept the consequences of what he does. He’s not willing to loose that friendship and I think Kyoshi would’ve understood that, and the questions Roku would’ve had to pose himself as an Avatar. That is Kyoshi’s advice. Only justice, true justice in the form of accountability and self-actualization as a leader, will allow you to make good decisions. The acceptance of this: that whatever he does, he must be willing to accept it’s legacy, learn from it, and teach the next Avatar just as she let Yun’s death affect her leadership and what she taught. And I think that’s probably incredibly poetic, even if I’m getting a bit ahead of myself. 

[oakleaf--bearer]

I posted 3,328 times in 2021

974 posts created (29%)

2354 posts reblogged (71%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 2.4 posts.

I added 1,021 tags in 2021

#the magnus archives - 223 posts

#tma - 221 posts

#tma spoilers - 152 posts

#ceaseless watcher turn your gaze upon this incredible fanart - 94 posts

#anon - 80 posts

#ask game - 78 posts

#rqg - 62 posts

#rusty quill gaming - 56 posts

#jonmartin - 28 posts

#my fics - 27 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#the grades don't count! i did my first year of uni in a pandemic while suffering from many mental illnesses that were all being untreated!!

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

annabelle texting martin: hey, jon's here! you gonna come say hi? ::::)

martin, still putting together his 'we had an argument and i need to remind him how hot i am' outfit: stall him

annabelle, grabbing the mr spider tape: on it

2115 notes • Posted 2021-02-18 17:11:37 GMT

#4

what if martin is grumpy when he is sleepy and when he was staying in the archives in s1, jon was in ridiculously early and got in just as martin was getting ready for the morning and he was awkwardly like 'ah, good morning martin, getting ready for the work day?' bc he panicked and was forced into socialisation without expecting it

and then martin just sleepily went 'oh fuck off its 7am youre not my boss for another 2 hours'

cut to half an hour later when they've both had a minute to think and jon just goes 'waIT WHY WAS THAT ATTRACTIVE' while martin goes 'OH NO I TOLD MY BOSS TO FUCK OFF IM SO FIRED' and they spend the rest of the day in awkward silence, driving tim and sasha crazy bc 'jon hasn't come to shout at martin all day something has happened oh no'

2128 notes • Posted 2021-01-13 21:46:28 GMT

#3

yeah this is exactly what the title says it is 

2254 notes • Posted 2021-03-25 17:02:47 GMT

#2

i cannot believe that this didn't occur to me earlier, but i'm on a hike rn through the countryside so it's on my mind i guess

i've talked about jmart going hiking before, and how public footpaths through fields are common in the uk

but there is a particular type of gate that separates fields to allow people through but not livestock

it looks like this

it's called a kissing gate

they got this nickname bc they can only be used one at a time, so someone would go through the gate, shut it behind them, and then demand a kiss as payment to open the gate for the other person

so now i'm thinking about jmart finding a kissing gate and jon explaining the origins of the nickname to martin and martin using this to his advantage

2717 notes • Posted 2021-04-25 12:07:01 GMT

#1

i cannot stop thinking about the post-post-apocalypse tumblr discourse, can you even imagine what this place would be like??

'i think the buried avatars are homophobic, they literally buried the gays and if you support the buried then unfollow me'

'op is end aligned and refuses to acknowledge that the end actually killed gay people, thus doing the actual definition of bury your gays'

'make your own post'

and then you scroll down and they did actually make their own post and it says 'end kinnies are so desperate to act like they weren't the only ones literally killing people after the change anyway stan the vast'

3467 notes • Posted 2021-03-26 10:14:14 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[choicest]

Family

Summary: The father and son conversation we didn't have. Happens between chapter 15 & 16.

A/N: To be honest I really consider this as my first OP fic (even though it's technically my second). The OP characters are just too beautiful and I've been afraid I won't get them properly so I always ignore the urge to write about them. But now, I’m finally doing it so, thank you so much for reading. It really means a lot. Let me know if you like it!

//

Ethan rolls and adjusts his eyes in the threatening daylight that peers through his windows. It has been three days since the hearing but he still can't quite find a reason to celebrate, even though a certain person pointed out every reason to. It's just, to see his mentor who's become a father to him finish the road in such a bitter way is definitely something that didn't cross his mind. Naveen has been his inspiration to enter the medicine field, and as his mentee, the whole idea overly pains him. Deciding that three days is enough, he gets up, took a shower, and texts him.

Ethan: Hi. Are you working today?

Ethan curses himself the minute he read the word 'sent'. Way to comfort an old man who's forced to quit his job, Ethan.

Naveen: Ethan, what a delight! Not much. And you know what?

Ethan: What?

Naveen: I happen to know someone who's also not working much.

Naveen: Lunch?

Ethan is just typing to offer to cook for him but a text quickly comes in.

Naveen: Let's enjoy and go out, Ethan.

~

The first thing Ethan notice when he sees his mentor's face is peace. For someone who is about to lose his job and the only thing that sparks his life, Naveen is undeniably calm.

They order and begin eating in comfortable silence. Naveen occasionally teasing him, and him gladly taking all the jokes the man can mutter.

Deciding to go for it, Ethan blurts out. "You're okay." It is no longer a question. It is now a realization. Truth be told, these past days, Ethan has been terrified. For himself, yes, but mostly for the man in front of him.

Naveen just smiles at him. "What is it, Ethan?"

"But how? You're retiring. You have no family to come home to because you literally spent all your life dedicating your life to other people. How can you be okay with all of this?" Ethan blabbers.

"I've had that peace for a long time now, Ethan. It's not something I was able to magically obtain in a span of four hours." He pauses.

"Remember the time I asked you to let me go home after we cannot figure out what's wrong with me? I... I still get the chills whenever I think I almost lost it. But that incident certainly helped me prepare for it. Not to mention I delivered a goodbye speech then so it won't be as hard when I do it again next week." He chuckles softly.

"Naveen, you're..."

"I'm saying I was ready to say goodbye. I'm thankful I had another chance but I already prepared myself. And yes, it's not going to be how we pictured it but that's on me, Ethan. And I won't let you take the fall for my mistake."

Ethan reaches out to clasps Naveen's hand. He holds it tightly letting the action convey all the words he can't utter.

"Let someone else cook for you, Ethan." Naveen smiles as he taps Ethan's hand.

He gives him a puzzled look.

"She met with me that morning. Told me that while she respects your decision, she's not stupid to agree and go with it."

Ethan heartily laughs at that.

"Let other people help you, Ethan. Let them support you, and be there for you. Ask for help if you need to. You don't always have to do it on your own. That's what she did that morning."

~

They spend the whole afternoon reminiscing. From the most notable cases they have handled, to PITA patients, to how Ethan scolded his mentor when he learned about his mistake that day, finally being able to laugh about it.

"Remember how you diagnose a patient during your internship interview? I was sitting there asking about your medical vision and you go solve the thing on the board."

"You mean how the other doctor told me how much of an arrogant jerk I am after you made me told him about the more efficient treatment plan I've come up with?"

"Ha, that one's golden! I knew you've got thick skin."

Everything was fun, still somehow unpleasant but also very honest, and unique.

After an extensive argument, Naveen finally lets Ethan drive him home even though it's just a 15 minutes walk, 5 minutes for Ethan who has long legs and who walks like a cheetah.

“Thank you, Ethan. Drive safe.” Naveen says as he pats his back.

“Thank you, Naveen.” Ethan responds, hoping his mentor can understand what he’s really trying to say.

The man gave him lifetime opportunities, supported him, pushed him, trusted him, hell, he literally trusted him with his life and as much as Ethan wanted to give him the whole long emotional speech, he just can’t. So, he just hopes those words make up for it.

Ethan watched as the man he considered his hero walks slowly away from him. He’s about to get back into his car when Naveen’s voice stops him.

“Don’t worry too much, Ethan. I won’t be alone. I have a family. I have you, son.”

With that, Ethan takes a few strides and wraps Naveen in a hug.

//

If you’ve come this far, thank you so so much. I really appreciate it. I think I’d like to write a continuation but we shall see. Thank you again and always stay safe! -pilar

Tags: @mrs-ramsey @emmasumbrella @dickgraysonhasanicebutt

[coaxionunlimited]

Moderately Rare Untamed/MDZS Fic Recs

For when you find fic from sorting by kudos, but you’ve got tag fatigue and you want to read something new. Or, hey, maybe you just want some MDZS fic recs. I’m not here to judge. * means it’s incomplete, for those of you that care.

Obligatory WangXian Category:

crack in the mirror by the_pretzel*: The premise of this one is that Wei Wuxian gets transported from the modern world into a mystery novel series, set in ancient China. But he’s in the body of a character that’s about to get married, and then murdered by his husband. So he breaks the engagement by starting a new one with Lan Wangji and then the first chapter ends. This one is a rollercoaster. WWX soon discovers that his character’s been keeping secrets, and he’s got to figure them out if he wants to get out of this alive. If there was a best drama award for fics, this one would get it. Every chapter has me on the edge of my seat in a different way, as WWX gets out of one mess only to find himself in a bigger one. And that doesn’t even touch on the romance - this is one of the ones where you can just about feel all the pining LWJ is doing, even though it’s WWX pov and he’s oblivious to all of it. Honestly, this fic is the reason this rec list exists.

set your old heart free series by words-writ-in-starlight: Do you like crying? I like crying. That’s why I’m recommending this series to you, so you can cry too! I’m putting this under WangXian, because it’s a story about Lan Wangji and you can’t really have LWJ without the pining, but the real core of the story is the family LWJ has built in Cloud Recesses. Lan Shizui and Lan Xichen, and eventually (because this series starts just after WWX dies - what, I did say I liked crying) Wei Wuxian joins in. There’s even a little Wen Ning! If you like having feelings and also any of the characters I’ve mentioned, like, at all, this series is worth checking out.

The Terminus of Gravity by sealdog: Every fandom needs a space opera au, and sealdog delivers. This is pretty much a strait transportation of the plot of canon to the future and also space, with a side of epistolary and Wen remnants family time, and I’ll stop there because I don’t really want to spoil it. I’m a huge sucker for melancholy and pining and also well written space operas, because even if the premise isn’t your game, it is well written, and it’s worth a read.

Tales from Bunny Mountain by telarna: Lan sect turns into bunnies because of an excess of yin ener- look, we get Lan Zhan as a bunny with bonus Lan Shizui as a bunny. Do you really care why? This is another one of those fics that’s in the WangXian section because if LWJ and WWX are in a fic together, some things just come naturally, but the real draw for me is- well, I’m not going to lie, most of the draw was LWJ as a bunny, but I stayed with the fic for Jin Ling. Good Jin Ling characterization and a lovely, mischievous WWX, who also happens to be a very good uncle. And we have Lan sect as bunnies. Terrible, troublesome bunnies. 11/10, a must read.

through a window softly by impossibletruths: Okay, finally, we finish off the WangXian section with a fic that is actually about WangXian, not just featuring it prominently. through a window softly is a college au where LWJ and WWX are two different types of music major and also neighbors. WWX plays flute and LWJ plays violin and sometimes they stand outside their apartments and play together and pine for the mystery person that’s playing music with them. Look, they fall in love through playing music together, I’ve been looking for a fic like this since WWX first pulled out his flute in canon. There’s misunderstandings and identity porn, if you need some excellent bonus reasons to click this one, and I enjoyed both of those immensely. But what I really, truly loved was WangXian and love and music, and the intersection of all three.

Nie Huaisang: gen edition. Because I have a favorite character and that’s your problem now.

Mistakes We Made by Rachel3*: Nie Huaisang travels back in time and decides to prevent his brother’s death. This is the Nie Huaisang fic for me. I love love love his characterization here. Rachel3 strikes the delicate balance between the sweet kid he once was and the mastermind he grows up to be, making him competent but not an OP genius and sympathetic but not, like, a very good person. The plot is complex and realistic, tackling the sort of complex struggles (both interpersonal and large scale) that time travel fics very rarely bother with. If you've ever been curious about NHS, if you’ve ever even wanted to know him slightly better, this is the fic for you.

The Lost Cause by KouriArashi: AU in which Nie Huaisang and Jin Guangyao work together to take down Jin Guangshan from the beginning. I recommended the last fic for good characterization. I can’t in good conscience say the same for this fic, but that’s kind of the point. If you’re tired of moderation and realism and just want someone to take the hammer and fix canon already, this is the story for you. It’s hilarious and cathartic, and manages to be totally lighthearted even though it’s 100% about murder and manipulation. 

say those words (it’s not forgotten) by paranoid_fridge: This is edging on too well known for this list, but hey! My recs, my rules. And this is an absolute must read for everyone ever. If you haven’t read it, you should, and if you have read it, you can probably stand to do it again. This is a story about Nie Huaisang’s birthday. It’s a slice of life story, and a character study, and a little bit of a feel good hurt comfort fic, and it does all of those things magnificently. The author tags every relationship in this fic except the one braincell trio, which is a shame because it really is a NHS & WWX & JC fic, and if you weren’t craving one of those then why are you in this fandom? Why are you on my reclist? 

SangCheng is my OTP and that is also your problem: 

best behavior by inberin: I might as well take this space to recommend the whole sangcheng revenge au (dancing ashes under the sun (will cast their shadow when the winds rise) by paranoid_fridge really is the fic for it, but it’s too well known to make this list). The premise is simple, Jiang Cheng lost his golden core, the Wens won, and Nie Huaisang is taking them down from the inside with JC as his right hand man. best behavior makes the list for JC and NHS trolling each other (my favorite part of any sangcheng fic), and the lovely angst of two teenagers who grew up much too fast. The writing style of this one is lovely and poetic, the imagery is on point, and the sangcheng chemistry is the best.

Of Trespassing and Table Slams by LiteralistSin: I’ve put a fluffy fic in every category so far, and it’s SangCheng’s turn. There’s not much plot to this one, just SangCheng trying to outmaneuver each other and NHS being a little shit, and JC getting to win for once. Oh, yeah, and NHS gets kissed on a table. Everything my SangCheng loving heart needs.

everything rynleaf has ever written:  I’m putting this one under sangcheng because rynleaf has three sangcheng fics, and I couldn’t pick just one. Really though, you should at least check out What Remains of Meng Yao too, if you like crying. The sangcheng fics all strike the lovely balance between sangcheng tension and trolling each other and really truly sincerely caring about each other beneath all of it. Rynleaf writes some of the sweetest Jiang Cheng you ever did see, even when you’re looking through NHS’ jaded eyes. NHS is great here too, in all his secrets and his magnificent bastardry, you can just feel the smug smile he’s got on in every scene.

our footsteps sing a reckless serenade by ThirtySixSaveFiles: Because I cannot believe this one has so few kudos. Seriously, it’s a 46,000 word long modern with magic au where Jiang Cheng and NHS have an arranged marriage and fall in love. And that’s not even getting into the intrigue and the secrets NHS is keeping, and the murder mystery- There’s a lot of reasons to love this fic, and you definitely want to read it and discover all of them.

[samthemarvelfan]

Bloom for Me: One Shot

Summary: Bucky Barnes is number one on the list of people who piss you off. Good ole Cap doesn’t seem to care, and you’re sent on a mission at the behest of Dr. Banner. The tension is so thick, you could cut it with a knife. ...but what kind of tension is it, exactly?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: SMUT...with plot! Angst, and a lil dash of fluff. 18+ ONLY

A/N: SEX POLLEN FIC. I DID IT YALL. I finished a story I’ve held hostage for 3 months lol In honor of Seb’s bday...enjoy! <3

“I cannot express to you how much I’m not going to do this.” You gripe, arms crossed as you glare across the conference room at Steve.

“Ella, please—it’s less than a day. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He scolded.

You scoffed, “I’m actually making it quite easy. Send someone else, Steve. I’m not doing it.” You stand from you seat, with all intents being to walk out the door, when you hear a chuckle.

“Told ya, Pal. That’s a $20, fair and square.” He said.

He being James Buchanan Barnes; also known as Bucky.

Also known as a pain in the fucking ass.

You stop abruptly, spinning on your heel to face them. “What was that, Barnes?” You seethe.

“It’s nothing, Ella.” Steve said to you, before turning a glare to his friend. “Drop it, Buck...” He warned.

Bucky walked over to where Steve was standing, putting both hands on his shoulders as he passed by.

“Oh, come on now, Steve. I told you she’d whine about it—that was less than 40 seconds right? I’ll take my $20.” He joked with his friend.

You stomped toward Bucky. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He laughed again. That smug, sarcastic, arrogant laugh. “Me and my pal over here like to place bets on just how much whining we’ll have to hear from you; I do anyway. This time it was ‘Let’s see how long it takes Ella to start acting like a fucking toddler.’”

Your heart hurt a bit at his words. You expect this kinda shit from him, but Steve? Does he feel that way about you, too?

“Ella he doesn’t—“

Steve tried to speak, but Bucky cut him off. “I mean anytime—anytime you’re paired of with me for a mission, you’re always tryna get out of it. You’re like a kid bargaining to not eat their vegetables.”

He stood in front of you now, towering your small frame. “Being friends isn’t a fucking job requirement. Stop acting like a spoiled brat, do the work and get out. Ain’t that right, Steve?”

You and Bucky—believe it or not, were kinda friends at one point.

He’d been one of the only people to properly welcome you to the team, and for a few weeks you were starting to get to know each other well.

Until you had your first solo mission with him. Bucky hadn’t communicated his location, despite your attempt to find him for more than 20 minutes. You needed to blow the building before the targets escaped.

Unfortunately, you forgot to clear your surroundings and you ended up held hostage by a HYDRA agent. Until Bucky burst through the room like a maniac, saving you and the mission.

Since then, he’d been distant, even cold toward you. When you did see him, the two of you couldn’t get along. Passive aggressive comments, name calling, even down right fighting during training sessions were the norm now with Bucky.

You watched the two men. Steve, who’s head was hung low with embarrassment, and Bucky, who’s smug grin you wanted to wipe against the concrete.

“Fuck this. Fuck you both.” You strained. You wanted to cry, but you wouldn’t. Not yet. Not in front of him.

As you make your way out the door, you hear Bucky call out sarcastically, “What? Was it something I said?”

“Why do you do that to her?” Steve asked him.

Bucky felt the shit-eating grin dissolving from his face. “Do what.” It was a statement, and definitely not a question.

Steve scoffed, “You know damn well what I mean, Buck. She didn’t do anything to provoke that.”

Bucky swallowed hard, avoiding his friends gaze. “She’s a fucking brat, Steve.”

Steve shook his head in disbelief, “Do you hear yourself? Would you wanna work with you?” He asked.

Bucky pushed himself from the table, “Look it’s not my fault she almost got herself killed the first time she was put in the field. So she’s got a complex about it, big whoop.”

Bucky didn’t stay to hear Steve’s lecture. Truth be told, he couldn’t stomach it.

He knows how he treats you is disgusting. The bravado he has to put on around the team makes him sick to his stomach, but it’s necessary.

When he saw your life was in danger that day, he fucking panicked. Why did he panic?

He doesn’t know. But the thought of you getting hurt...or worse, made his skin crawl. Bucky wasn’t use to feeling so attached to someone so quickly, and he hated it.

Your safety was always in the front of his mind. Wondering if you were being followed or watched or tortured or—

Stop it, Buck. Stop it. She isn’t yours to worry about. He scolded himself.

Pushing you away was the easiest part. Making you hate him was second nature, but hurting you? Making you think he hated you?

It fucking sucked.

He walked back to his room. Every intention of showering and sulking until he fell asleep, when he heard your voice through the walls.

He stood a few feet from your door, hearing everything. Stupid super soldier perks.

You were crying.

You were crying because of him.

“Fuck.” Bucky seethed through his teeth.

He doesn’t know how or when it happened, but soon he was knocking on your door.

A moment later, it swung open. You stood there, eyes red and puffy. Cheeks wet with tears, and lips swollen.

Probably from biting them like she does when she’s trying not to cry. He thought to himself.

“Come to abuse me some more?” You ask with a pain in your voice he’s never heard before.

It snatched the wind from his lungs. How long had he been making you feel this way?

“Ella, I’m—“

“Save it. I don’t want your fake apologies. Get this straight, I’m not weak.” You growl.

Bucky wonders if your trying to convince him, or yourself.

“I’ll do this mission with you. I’m not going to let you turn this team against me, but after this? We’re done. I don’t wanna hear from you ever again. I’m going to request a transfer to work at the Tower instead.”

The Tower. Manhattan. 3 hours away.

Not with me. Bucky thought.

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. He didn’t want you to go, not like this. Not because of him.

“Nothing to say?” You quipped. “Thought so. Goodbye, James.” You said, and slammed the door in his face.

Bucky stepped forward, leaning his forehead against the door.

How did this get so out of hand? How did it get to the point where you’d be so desperate to be rid of his ridicule that you’d leave your home?

Bucky wasn’t sure, but he was going to fix it.

Whatever it takes.

“Make sure to keep the rebreathers on at all times.” Bruce said, closing the hologram of the building.

You nod, “So what exactly is it that makes it so toxic?”

Bruce laughed, “Toxic is a strong word—potent...that’s more fitting.”

You peering at the case file; Votum Floreant.

“Got it, anything else we should know?” You ask, eager to get the mission over with.

Bruce shook his head at you and Bucky. “Don’t thinks so. Just seal it in the case the moment you get it, and keep those rebreathers on while you’re in the jet with it. I’ll take care of it when you guys get back. It doesn’t affect me the way it would you two.”

Bucky looked confused, “If that’s the case, why the hell are we going?”

He chucked, “Its a stealth op. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but being subtle isn’t exactly my forte.”

You smiled, nudging him.

“I’ll keep coms open.” You say, exiting and heading to the flight deck on the roof.

Bucky hadn’t said two words to you since the briefing.

Good. You think.

But also, out of character.

Maybe he’d finally taken the hint that you were done being treated the way he treats you. Maybe he’d been relieved to hear you were requesting your transfer.

Maybe he really did hate you.

The thought tore at your heart in more ways than one. Before the whole mess of your first mission happened, you thought the both of you were on the same page.

The flirty looks during briefings, the waiting until it was just the two of you to have dinner or walk the grounds. The movie nights where he’d pick ones he knew only the two of you would like.

It must have just been one sided. No one feels the way you feel—felt, about him and just turns it off.

As the jet whirred into flight, you took a seat next to Bucky at the controls.

“Are you going to say anything? Or are we going to mime this whole mission.” You ask without looking at him.

He doesn’t say anything, or even look at you for that matter.

You scoff subtly, “I don’t know why I bother. I guess I’m just a glutton for punishment.”

Kicking up one leg, you keep it crooked up-right next to you, using it as a block between you and Bucky.

You’d finally landed after a painfully quiet 2 hour flight. You were securing your clips to your holster when you felt him behind you.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Bucky said suddenly.

It was almost impossible to look at him without sarcasm. “Really? What exactly did you think was going to happen? A person can only take so much, James.”

You move to walk away, but he grips you shoulder gently, turning you to face him.

“I...I didn’t like seeing you like that.” He practically whispered.

You paused before hitting the button to let the ramp down. You wanted to say something snide, but you didn’t dare give him your energy.

“Let’s go. I wanna get this over with.” You mumble, finally hitting the button.

“Payload secured. Extracting now.” Bucky spoke into the coms.

With your gloves on, and rebreather secured to your face, you open the case Bruce had given you.

“Here, put it in.” You instructed.

This...plant? No. Flower, definitely a flower, was gorgeous. Bright red and purple ombré petals with a speckled green and yellow stem. The green leaves reaching off the stem faded to a black tip. It was stunning.

Bucky reached for the pot, that’s when you noticed the plant changing.

“Whoa, whoa. Did you see that?” You ask him.

The stem looked like it was pulsing. Golden buds began blooming within the petals.

“I don’t like this. I’m calling Bruce.” You said.

You tap your ear piece. “Dr. Banner, we’ve got some strange activity. The plant is...growing? It’s morphing and producing—“

“Get it in that case now!” He shouts, “It’s sensitive you temperature. The closer you get, the more it detects your body heat. If you’re not careful, it’ll pollinate.”

“Els...” Bucky called.

The flower was almost glowing. It’s was hypnotic, drawing you to it...the both of you.

“It’s...it’s beautiful.” You say mindlessly.

“Sergeant Barnes? Do you copy?” You hear Bruce say through the coms.

He doesn’t respond and neither do you.

“It smells like you. Like...summer rain, and strawberry shortcake.” Bucky says, walking closer to the flower.

The buds are growing. They look as though they’re about to burst.

He shakes his head, breaking the trance. “Shit.” Bucky grumbles putting the pot in the case, and slamming it shut.

You’re both breathing heavily. When did you get this close to each other? You’re close enough to see the beads of sweat on Bucky’s hairline.

“S-Sorry.” You whisper, looking down.

He tilts you chin up to look at him, “Don’t be.” He whispers in reply.

The realization of your closeness to him set in again, cause you to jump back suddenly.

“I’m gonna go...watch the controls.” You mumble.

When you sit in the seat, you finally feel it. Your elevated heart rate, the slick in your skin, and the undeniable ache between your thighs.

“What the hell?” You mutter to yourself.

“I’m glad you made it home in one piece.” Dr. Banner says as you approach the door to the compound.

Behind you, Bucky wheeled the cart with the case on top of it.

“It was definitely something. What does that thing do exactly? The packet on it was pretty vague.” You ask.

Bruce hesitated, “It’s just...it’s a...it’s hard to explain.”

You quickly whip off your rebreather, enjoying the fresh air. “Try me.”

“Look out!” Bucky shouts from behind you.

In a flash you see Bruce’s face go into pure panic. No one was quick enough. The case tumbles to the ground, smashing open and exposing the plant.

Both you and Bucky rush for it. In an instants the plant glows again, pulsing quicker then before.

“Ella, no!” Bruce shouts.

You hadn’t noticed, but Bucky’s mask was off too. Neither of you looked at anything but the flower. “It’s beautiful.” You said mindlessly.

Suddenly there was a burst from the middle of it. Golden flecks of pollen floated through the air like glitter.

“Whoa.” Bucky said breathlessly.

Looking to him, he was bathed in an ethereal haze. A visible aura and smell drawing you to him, you couldn’t have looked away if you tried.

And you didn’t care.

Bucky’s eyes suddenly locked with yours, and you knew he felt it too.

You moved towards each other, before you felt yourself getting yanked back.

“Tony, get him into quarantine now!” Bruce shouted as he tugged you with him.

“No! Stop it! Bucky!” You shouted. A conscious part of your mind was being dulled; why did you need to be near Bucky so badly?

“Stark, I’m warning you! Ella! Ella!” Bucky shouted as he was picked up by Tony, wearing his Iron Man suit for safety.

You were pulled in separate directions, and brought into the compound.

2 hours. 37 minutes. 46 seconds.

That’s how long it’d been since you’d seen Bucky.

You were currently on you bed, aching with a cold sweat. Your body was screaming at you, telling you to get out and go find him.

“What’s happening to me...” you groan into the space above you.

Between your thighs was throbbing, the heat emerging from your core was unrelenting. Your nipples were so hard, they felt like they could cut glass, and a glisten of lust on your skin couldn’t be ignored anymore.

Your own fingers did nothing to alleviate the ache. Attempting to pleasure yourself was in vain, because it wasn’t just any touch you needed. You felt like you would die—surely, you would die without his touch.

You needed Bucky, and you needed him now.

Stood from your bed, and practically running to the door, you relish in the friction it caused between your legs.

Pulling and twisting the knob in every direction does nothing. Of course it doesn’t...of course they’d locked you in here.

“FRIDAY?” You practically begged.

“Yes, Miss Monroe?” The AI replied instantly.

You cleared your throat, and pressed your sweat stained forehead agains the cool wood. “Please open my door.”

“I’ve been instructed not to let you out unless it was an emergency.”

“It is,” You say quickly. “it’s an emergency.”

She didn’t respond, the door simply clicked open. You yanked it back and revealed a sweat soaked Bucky on the other side; with bloodshot eyes, and his pupils blown out.

You’re sure your breathing mirrored his. Heavy and lengthy breathes passed your lips, chests heaving in time with one another.

Neither of you spoke as he took daunting steps forward, pushing you back into your bedroom.

In a flash, the door is slammed shut, and his hands find your hips. “Need you. Have to have you.” He groaned into the crook of your neck. “Had to smell you, touch you.”

Bucky hoists you up against the wall, and you’re seated perfectly on his thigh. “Please tell you want this—need this as badly as I do.”

The friction of his sweatpants clad thigh against your core makes you moan. “Yes, yes. Bucky...James, please.”

His lips are on yours before you can think.

Tongues take purchase of one another—it’s sloppy and rushed, and you don’t care.

You grind your heat onto his thigh, surely leaving wet patches—you’re dripping after all.

“That’s is sugar, get yourself off.” He practically growled.

“Bucky.” You moan. “More. Give me more.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Your back hits you’re bed with a muted thud, and he in you again, stripping you of your bottoms. You help him, and tear your shirt from your body.

Bucky grips your ankle, and makes eye contact as he starts peppering kissed up your leg. Soft, wet kissed that felt like fire against your skin.

He suddenly hooks your legs with his arms and waits, looking at you for permission. “Can I taste you?”

You nod, swallowing thickly. Soon, Bucky’s tongue is lapping at your clit, sucking and soothing the swollen bud, eating you like it was the man’s last meal.

“James, oh my...don’t stop.” You moan, raking your fingers through his hair.

Bucky hold your hips down, and your orgasm hits you like a truck. Cumming all over his face, but he doesn’t stop, he works you through it until your shaking.

“You taste like heaven, but now I need to be inside you.” He kissed you again, and you taste your juices on his stubble.

With new confidence, you push him back on the bed, and climb on top, lining him up with your entrance. In a smooth stroke, his entire length is in you. You gasp at the stretch, not expecting it.

“Look at you, sugar. Taking my cock so well, that’s it baby,” he croons as you start to ride him. “Take every inch, all for you, doll.”

You grind onto his cock, finding the perfect angle to meet your most sensitive spot.

“Oh, James.” You moan, throwing your head back.

“So tight, perfect. Mine, all mine.” He grunts, sitting up to kiss your chest. He swirls his tongue around each nipple, driving you mad.

You feel that rubber band stretching in your core, and Bucky feels it too.

He picks up his pace, thrusting up into you harder and faster until your seeing stars. Bucky repeats your name like a prayer on his lips until he stills, spilling his warmth inside of you, biting down on your chest as he came.

With the last scrap of energy you had, you roll off of him. Neither of you speak for a few minutes, you simply let your breathing return to normal.

“So that’s what that plant does.” Bucky says jokingly.

You throw your hands over your eyes, “I can’t believe we just did that.”

The mattress dips as you feel Bucky turn to face you. “Don’t get all shy on me now, Els.”

You move your hands, but refuse to look at him. Vulnerable is the last thing you want to be in front of Bucky Barnes.

Bucky’s hand finds your cheek, “Hey, I’m serious, talk to me.”

The sigh that you release is one of nerve and exhaustion. “What’s there to talk about? How I was just fucked into oblivion by a guy that hates my guts? That the only reason we’re in this bed together is because of some toxic plant that messed with our brains? There you go, there’s your talk.”

“I don’t hate you.” He says on the heels of your speech.

You laugh, full on chuckle. “Okay, Barnes. I get it, hates a strong word and all that, but you definitely don’t like me.”

Bucky swung his legs over the side of the bed, “You’re right, I don’t like you. I’m pretty sure I fucking love you.”

He says it as causally and easily as anything. In fact, it comes out with such ease, you’re almost inclined to believe him.

“Right, that’s why you ignore me while we’re at the compound, or make pick on me for fun, and follow me around like a rookie in every mission we’re forced to do together.”

He stands and pulls up his shorts. “I follow you because the thought of you getting killed makes me sick to my fucking stomach. I call out mistakes because I want you to be aware of everything so that I don’t have to kill people for hurting you.”

You prop yourself up on the bed, and shield your exposed body with a sheet. Buckys hands wash over his face before landing on his hips.

“I avoid you while we’re here because if I didn’t, I’d want to spend ever second of every day with you. You’re all I fucking think about, and frankly, it’s driving me crazy.”

You smirk at his humor, he always could make you laugh.

“So what do we do now?” You ask, sitting up on your knees, and allowing the sheet to fall.

Bucky’s eyes roam your figure, and he swallows hard. “I’d like to erase all the hateful things I’ve ever said to you, but I can’t. I can only ask to get a new start, sugar. A chance—give me one chance.”

His hand find your hips, and you feel the goosebumps prickle your skin. “After all, I am the guy that just fucked you into oblivion, right?

You smirk, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on his lips. His hand cups your cheek as you pull away.

“Can we watch those old movies like we used to? Just you and me?” You mumble, looking down.

Bucky laughs, and pulls you into his warm chest, kissing the crown of your head. “You got it, honey. Just you and me.”

taglist:  @iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @warmvanillafeels @star-spangled-beard-burn @ravenesque @pinknerdpanda @wintersoldierissucharide @snapcapquartet @ellen-reincarnated1967 @unlistedpond @my-drowning-in-time @supernaturalwintersoldier @kimvmarvel @roseboho @winterboobear11 @choicesloversstuff @disaffectedbarnes @igothroughphasesalot @supernaturalwintersoldier​ @miss-assembled (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!)

[jimmyironwood]

james!

jimmy, jimmy, jimmy, my favourite man

Top Three Ships:

Hard to choose just three when he deserves everyone ever but IronQrow Irondeath Ironclock

Least Favourite Ships:

IronLion (james x lionheart) cannot imagine him doing anything but throttling the traitor in a non-sexy way, War Crimes because Tyrian scares me and I refuse to put one thought to him in a romantic setting, Silver Shamrock because clover gives me "im irish because my nan's best friend's painter was irish" vibes.

Biggest Criticism:

Whatever the fuck happened in volume 8 with the mantle bombing but at the same time that version of him does not exist in my mind I cannot criticise what isnt there. Also James darling just accept you never unlocked your semblance and have stubborn man disease instead of whatever the fuck Mettle is.

Favourite Thing:

Words do not go deep enough to describe the joy I feel when I think about him. He is my favourite thing.

But if I had to pick it would be his temperament. Even when being yelled at or receiving literally the worst news ever he took a moment to stop or lean against the wall or redirect his anger at an object rather than a person.

Headcanon:

I have so many.

He has a massive sweet tooth and his favourite sweet is mint imperials. He keeps some in his jacket pocket for on the go. Giant sweet tooth make soft thicc half metal man and that is ok

He is Fria's son.

He's actually a good headmaster and keeps tabs on all of his students.

Before he got his prosthetics, he had axe as his weapon, but afterwards he found he simply didn't have the mobility for a large weapon anymore and changed to Due Process

What I would change if I was making a rewrite:

I have a love-hate relationship with Mettle. On one hand it's dumb and it's a personality trait and it didn't even show up in the show and on the other hand it has so much potential and it is in every single fic I write. I'd like to make it more obvious. His eyes were a lot darker in vols 2-3 so let's say Mettle makes his eyes bluer when it has more of a hold over him.

I'd also like to see or hear a change when its in effect. Maybe his voice is more monotonous and cold, he stands straighter and moves stiffer. I'd make its effects stronger too, his altered mental state means he hyperfocuses until his task or goal is achieved, even if that means missing sleep or meals to do so (have the Ace Ops mention this. A simple line of "he hasn't left his office in... days" would suffice). Have it get to the point where he couldn't answer simple questions that aren't about his goal because every effort of his mind is dedicated to it. As his goal gets further away it makes him more desperate and his decisions seem more rash, but in his affected head they are the next logical choice to regain the ground he has lost even if he cannot see how irrational they are. The semblance is literally self-inflicted mind control! Go crazy! But have him voice it so we the audience can understand his thinking. Give him a lil character quirk of thinking out loud so that we're not left behind in an otherwise very mental and self affecting semblance.

Finally, I would like to see other characters acknowledge it. I feel it was hinted that Ozcar was going to go and talk to him in volume 8, I'd like to have seen that. He obviously has respect for Ozpin and Ozpin is one of the few characters who managed to change his mind before (see volume 2 scouts/flagbearers convo). If Oscar can convince two villains to finally make the switch to his side, he, with the help of Ozpin, can get through to James. Maybe RWBYJNR discuss it as part of their plan, ie, "if we can break his aura we have a chance of getting past his semblance, since that's when he's at his weakest" - this also affords insight into how aura affects passive semblances since it's otherwise unclear. Qrow can talk about it in the prison cell with Robyn, ie "I'm going to beat the semblance out and the sense back in". It would go great as part of their conversation about how semblances can negatively affect people.

Let. Ren. See. His. Petals. Or lack of petals. Imagine if Ren had used his shinigami eyes during the fight and seen no petals at all until his aura was broken, at which point he became so swamped in petals that Ren could barely see him.

Also I am getting rid of the Mantle bomb plot. And the part where he fights Winter twice within like an hour. She already anime moment beat him up, we didn't need to see it again. However I think Watts hacking the bomb once he's out of jail is a fun plot point to bring people together in the event that the bomb wasn't used to blow up Monstra. Also goodbye green fart cannon. Yucky. If you want him to have a big weapon give him an axe.

Also I'd give him a backstory. You don't make a character half metal and then not tell your audience why.

Sorry that became a whole essay about Mettle

What I think of his allusion:

I like the tin man allusion! It was easy to spot early on but the way it was used wasn't clear later on. Did he lose it? Did he use it too much? Did he begin to wish he didn't have one? I believe in the latter two but there is plenty of room for interpretation for the former.

I think there was room for the secondary allusion of Atlas the titan who holds up the world and I know a few people did indeed see that but I think it could've been reinforced in the show a little more.

[belladonna-behold]

An Idea #2

"I am Izuku Midoriya, and I killed All for One."

Or

Me making Izuku OP

-------

He has green hair, Yagi notes, — wild, with unkempt locks sticking up every-which way. They seem iridescent where the moonlight hits, and golden where it fades. He has green eyes, too — not the piercing shade of an emerald, but a forest in the summertime. They are freshly pink in the edges, poofy in the skin, like he was crying just a few moments before. As Yagi knows he was.

"H-hello sir,"

He fidgets a lot, with his sleeves, with his hair, with the silver ring on his thumb, and he mutters incoherent sentences that Yagi cannot decipher. He is an anxious one, a strange one, he might reckon even brave. Awfully brave, or foolish, for a child to show up before Might Tower's doorsteps in the dead of night, demanding in hysterics to meet with the number one hero like it was a matter of life and death.

"I-I am Izuku Midoriya," Izuku, what a nice name. Sir had warned him of the child before they let him in, claiming that he was screaming alarming terms like 'All for One' and 'The League of Villains' as he pounded on the gates, and Yagi only laughed heartily, for what can a seven-year-old know about the underground?

He was warned, but nothing could have prepared him for what he says next:

"I am Izuku Midoriya, and I killed All for One."

The world stops.

-------

-The world needs more OP Deku fics, can you blame me?

-It also needs more Dad for One fics.

-So Izuku killing All for One when he was like, 7.

-And then getting adopted by All Might (or another hero, not sure. It's really hard to swallow anything Dadmight when Dadzawa's been on my mind for like, months now.)

-A fix-it fic. That's it. (Inko's probably gonna be dead, but hey. That's the price to pay for killing All for One)

-I do have a quirk in mind for Izuku, one that's extremely OP. Probably not the most realistic thing, but I honestly wanna know what would happen if 7-year-old Izuku had a God-tier quirk to bring the world to its knees.

-I call it Deus and that's probably very telling.

[mariekavanagh]

How can you preach about ‘not taking the books seriously’ but you have a bunch of in depth fics about Orion, Walburga and other members of the Black family who were barely even mentioned in the books? Sounds like you’re taking the books seriously.

What I do is write stories set in a fictional universe which I have enjoyed since childhood and which still brings me a sense of enjoyment and escapism from the stresses of the real world. This is, I would say, quite the opposite of taking the books too seriously. My “in-depth” fics are me using my imagination to further enjoy magical fantasy world that the story is set in.

What I don’t do is spend my time over-analysing every moral situation in this fictional universe, especially since the books were not written to be interpreted so deeply in the first place. Harry Potter may be enjoyed by people of all ages, but it is classified as children’s literature and was written for a young audience. Had the books been written for adults, then perhaps it may make more sense to question the rights and wrongs of every little aspect of the characters, plots and world-building, but the fact is that they were never designed to be read by adults or seriously critiqued by adult readers. If JKR had been writing for an adult audience then perhaps the world would have been written differently in many ways, since she’d have known that it would be judged far more critically. 

Take, for example, Walburga’s portrait. There are huge numbers in the HP fandom who swear blind that the shrieking, mad portrait of an old woman is proof that Sirius was definitely abused at home. The portrait was only ever meant to be a comedic was of demonstrating the Black family’s pureblood beliefs. But people insist on over-analysing (and seem very determined to find more tragedy in this story that already has many sad canon features already) and in some cases, misinterpreting the text. This widespread interpretation of the Blacks has resulted in an area of the fandom which can be downright rude to anyone who disagrees with their interpretation or questions their evidence of “canon abuse”. I’ve stopped communicating with the fandom on basically all platforms except Tumblr and the reviews of my fics because I’m tired of being spoken to rudely or being accused of being an “abuse apologist” or being told I “condone child abuse” for disagreeing with their decision that a painting of a woman who was supposed to be something children would find funny is proof of both physical and emotional abuse.

Neville’s boggart. Neville’s “worst fear” being Severus Snape is supposed to be a token of solidarity for the countless schoolchildren over the generations who have experienced that one school teacher who they find a bit scary or teaches a subject they don’t like/aren’t the best at and therefore are a bit afraid of. It is not meant to be canon proof that Snape is unforgivably evil because Neville fears him more than the woman who tortured his parents into insanity. The whole concept of boggarts is something that can really only be written for a children’s book in which a worst fear is spiders or clowns rather than death and disaster. Had the story been written for adults, the concept would be seen as too unconvincing. 

Now take the issue raised with love potions in the post I shared earlier today, in which the OP said they couldn’t believe love potions weren’t illegal because of potential misuse. Had the Harry Potter books been written for adults, then absolutely, the concept of a potion which can manipulate someone’s feelings and has the potential to lead to many wrong-doings of this nature would certainly be expected to be illegal or controlled. But this is, and I cannot emphasise this enough, a CHILDREN’S BOOK. Are you really going to go into detail with a primary school child reading Harry Potter for the first time that love potions should be illegal because they can lead to sexual assault/manipulation? No, of course not. Because it’s not age-appropriate and would definitely ruin their enjoyment of this magical fantasy world which they’ve escaped to as part of a fun reading session. 

I could list further examples all day, but I won’t. My point with this accidental essay is to explain my point of view that the details of this magical, fictional world are taken far more seriously than they were ever designed to be. And I simply cannot fathom why people choose to spend their time judging the morality of every little tiny detail of this children’s book series, something which I cannot imagine truly brings them enjoyment, rather than putting that energy either into simply enjoying the stories or channelling it into something more productive. Lord knows there’s plenty of better real-world reasons to criticise JKR than for her decision not to make love potions illegal. If people spent as much time and effort calling out the injustices of the real world as they do fictional ones, the world would surely be a far better place.

Ending on the main focus of your ask, my writing in-depth fics about very minor characters in Harry Potter is my way of finding further enjoyment out of a book series and fictional world that I have loved since I was eight years old and which is my main source of enjoyment (yes I am that sad) and stress-relief now at the age of twenty-five. That is not something I would define as my “taking the books too seriously”

[pllandcompany]

I Choose You

Summary: Hospital AU! A look into how Roman and Logan’s relationship developed.

Pairings: Pre-romantic into Romantic Logince, background QPP Moxiety

Warnings: discussion of medical procedures, blood mention, violence/shooting mention, mention of drug use/addiction, anxiety, crying, a (and one almost) kiss

Tagged:  @shxtxpp @apologieslogan  @crofters-jam @asylia5911 @ab-artist @band-be-boss-blog @unbefuckinglieveable@flyingfreeyt @thecatchat @thefallendog @backatthebein @insufferablegayastronaut

Notes: Guess who’s back at it again after months of writer’s block?? I’ve wanted to write this story for a while. It does reference a few other fics I’ve written in this AU so here, here, and here are the links for those stories if you want more context as the events of this story are not in order of how they happened based on the established timeline. Also, heads up that I’ve only linked the first part of Out Loud (last link) and Don’t You Remember (second link) but If you want full details (or if you just love my writing so much, insert eye roll here), go to my masterlist and read all of the parts. Still, it should be fairly clear even without reading the previous stories. Okay! Enough talking! Enjoy!

Why wasn’t he awake?

That deadly, nerve-wracking, gut-twisting question had been bouncing around Dr. Roman Courtland’s mind for five days now. The deadline of the withdrawal of care date loomed over his head like a terrorizing and expansive storm ready to break open at any moment. Fourteen days was just simply not enough time. Did the man have no hope?

Note to self: Remind Logan to change that stupidly short time period when he wakes up.

In all actuality, Logan being in a coma was not the expected outcome. It was a nearly perfect surgery. The bleeding was minimal and deftly controlled by his swift hand when it occurred. There was no sign of post-operative stroke or brain death. He should be awake. Yet there Logan lay as still and pale as driven snow, the steady beep of the machines being the only sign of life in the room. It shouldn’t be the case, but it was and Roman was damned determined to find out why. This wasn’t just any patient. No, this was a colleague and a gifted one at that; Logan was quite possibly the most brilliant cardio-thoracic surgeons this hospital had ever seen. Not only was this a professional point of pride, Logan was also the man who saved his brother’s life while simultaneously putting up with his relentless torment the entire time Remy was hospitalized. Roman knew he had been unfair to the surgeon, cruel even and he has certainly spent an exorbitant amount of energy trying to make up for that fact since, including personally taking on his case when Logan turned up with a brain tumor. Shortly before his diagnosis, the two finally found themselves on better terms and Roman was…looking forward to getting to know the doctor more, figure out what truly makes him tick. Now he was potentially the surgeon responsible for destroying that precious of a mind, for squandering the opportunity to…learn more about Logan? Roman refused to accept that reality. Logan Taylor was going to wake up if he had any say in it. He had to; Roman wasn’t ready to lose him-

“Roman? What are you still doing here?”

Patton. Damn it. “Looking over Logan’s post-op scans.” Roman felt the deep sigh more than he heard it.

“For the hundredth time, I bet. Roman, take a break, please. You have to step away at least for a moment. Have you even eaten anything?”

“Have I figured this out yet? Then the answer is no and I’m not leaving until that changes.” A small pang of guilt tightened Roman’s chest briefly. Yelling at Patton was like kicking a puppy, a completely undeserved action. As usual, Patton didn’t even seem fazed which only served to make the neurosurgeon feel worse. Instead, he simply sat across from the distraught doctor, empathy shining in his eyes.

“Roman, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“Then what the hell else am I supposed to do?!” Roman flailed his arms in sheer frustration, the force of action flinging the scans everywhere. He roughly ran a shaky hand through his hair and breathed deeply, trying to control himself while Patton quietly picked up the discarded films.

“I wish I could tell you what to do, Roman. I don’t know how to fix Logan. But I do know you’re not going to find the answer like this. Please take a break. Get some sleep. Come at this again in the morning.”

Roman buried his head into his hands. “What if something happens when I walk away? What if he gets worse and I’m not here to stop it? What if I can’t figure this out and I…and we lose him?” Patton gently took Roman’s hands out of his hair and smoothed the wavy locks down, a solemn yet knowing smile playing on his lips.

“I know you’re scared. I am too. But we don’t get to know what’s going to happen sometimes. All we can do is our best. Which you can’t do if you’re exhausted. So, come with me. We’re going to have dinner and then you’re going to an on-call room to lie down. You don’t have to sleep. You can ramble all the medicine at me that you want, every detail. Maybe then we can come up with something together. How does that sound?” Roman nodded silently, allowing Patton to lead him out of his office.

An hour and a sandwich later, Roman was out like a light and Patton was quietly sneaking out of the on-call room.

Mission successful.

****

“Good morning, nerd!”

God, Roman was insufferable. Logan let out a soul-exiting sigh. “Dr. Courtland, must you insist on calling me that?”

“Oh, don’t get your briefs in a twist, Dr. Taylor; you know I tease only out of love.” Logan hoped the tenseness in his shoulders wasn’t noticeable.

There he was using that word around him again.

“You cannot possibly love me. We’ve only known each other a few months. Besides, I seem to recall you having a certain disdain for me when I first arrived here. It would be impossible for that to have resolved itself in totality so soon.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roman stop and turn back to him. Suddenly, Logan was grateful they were the only two in the lounge.

“Logan…you still think so ill of me?” The cardiologist barely held back the gasp that bubbled in his throat at the hurt look on the neurosurgeon’s face.

“No…not of you?”

“Then of yourself?” Roman sat next to Logan, setting his thigh ablaze when they brushed against each other. Logan hesitated for a moment as his mind struggled to find the best way to answer.

“That’s not it either. I simply meant that we are very different people with not much in common. I’m not certain as to how we will coalesce outside of being coworkers.” If we will.

“Well, that isn’t always a negative thing. I like that we’re different. Means there’s much we can learn from each other.”

“Of course. Our specialties differ greatly; there’s bound to be new information learned between us.” Roman chuckled warmly. 

“While I find your habit of taking things literally quite refreshing, in this case it led you astray. You’re so much more than the job, Lo. You are strong and wise, brilliant and beautifully complicated in ways I’d like to know more about. If you’d let me that is.” The neurosurgeon’s face held so much hope, it metaphorically made Logan’s heart just…stop. How ironic that he, the cardio-thoracic surgeon would be the one to need pulmonary resuscitation from just one look from the towheaded neurosurgeon. ​ It just wasn’t reasonable how one person could be so disarming, so confounding, so attractive…

Logan had to get out of there.

“Ah! Yes, well, then I concede to your point, Dr. Courtland. Fare-farewell.” The older doctor jumped up like a jack in the box and practically sprinted out of the room, the edge of his white coat narrowly missing Roman’s face. 

It didn’t bother him too much once he realized that Logan hadn’t said no.

****

“Okay, Logan. Let’s try this again. Pick up the pencil and write your name.” Logan stared at the yellow No. 2 as if it would jump up and slap him at any moment. “Can we go back to the ball?”

Roman almost chuckled. “You’ve already done that portion. Your grip strength is greatly improved. Now we need to build your prehensile strength back. Go ahead, pick up the pencil. Just try.”

After a few tense moments, Logan finally held the writing instrument. His heart pounded with anticipation as he gingerly placed the tip to the paper in front of him. He pressed down ever so slightly and began to write his name.

He didn’t make it through the ‘g’ before the force of his tremor snapped the graphite.

In a fit of pure rage, Logan swiftly grabbed the pencil in his left hand and threw it across the room. It sailed past Roman’s ear so close he felt the wind move his hair. Before he could react, Logan was standing and tossing his chair across the room. A loud clattering sound stunned Roman into stock still reticence, not daring to test the cardiologist in this state.

“Damn it! Damn it all to hell!”

“Logan, just try to stay calm- “

“No, you said this would work! Yet it’s been a month and I still can’t use my hand! An entire month and I still can’t operate because you make promises you can’t keep!” Silence. “I’m sorry. That was…an unbecoming display.” He moved to restore the room to its original order but Roman intercepted him. He placed two warm hands on Logan’s shoulders, drawing a gasp from the sudden contact.

“You don’t have to apologize, Logan. I understand. I’m surprised you’ve held it together this long.”

Logan refused to make eye contact with Roman. “I still should not have behaved in that manner. Especially after everything you’ve done for me, I shouldn’t be lashing out at you, I am alive because of you, I should just be grateful for that- “

“Dr. Taylor, will you please look at me?” When Logan didn’t move, Roman took his hand under the surgeon’s chin and gently lifted his head. His heart nearly broke at the shattered look on Logan’s face. “See? I’m not mad. What you’re feeling is normal because what you’re going through is hard. It’s okay to get frustrated.” Roman pushed back a lock of the cardiologist’s dark hair and Logan’s eyes closed, leaning into the touch. His head dropped alarmingly close to Roman’s forehead and the neurosurgeon shifted to hold his face with both hands. Logan’s lips parted and his gaze suddenly changed to something…insistent, almost desperate. The question he was asking was obvious and oh, how Roman wanted to acquiesce. Maybe he could, maybe it would be okay…no, it wouldn’t be right; Logan was his very vulnerable patient right now and his coworker. Complicated wouldn’t even begin to describe the nature of their involvement. Roman took a step back and cleared his throat, turning to grab the chair and returned it to the table.

“Look, your hand works. You just have to remind your brilliant brain that it does. And it takes time to build new neural pathways so…try again. Write your name, as much as you can.” Logan swallowed tensely, seating himself once again in the chair. He closed his eyes in a silent prayer, willing the pressure in his chest to release. He looked when he felt velvet skin against the back of his hand: Roman was holding it. Smiling gently at the supportive touch, he picked up the second pencil Roman had conjured from his white coat.

This time, he made it through the ‘g.’

****

“Tell me a secret.”

“…what?”

“We’re getting to know each other. Setting aside our differences, becoming…friends. Friends tell each other things so…tell me a secret.”

“We are sitting on a bench on our lunch break in the middle of our workday. What about this setting makes you suddenly want to have an intimate conversation?”

“Deflecting…”

“Oh, for heavens’ sake, fine!”

“…Paging Dr. Taylor? Are you actually going to say something?”

“I…I want children. Or at least a child. I want to be a father.”

“Well, that’s a mighty forward proposition.”

“Dr. Courtland…”

“Oh, hush now, you know I’m kidding! But why is that such a secret?”

“Because no one expects it of me. People see me as cold and emotionless; no one would think me fit to be a father, much less have a desire to raise children. I’m not like Patton; I don’t seem like ‘the type,’ if you will.”

“I don’t agree with that at all. I think you’d make an excellent father. You’re very practical and you’re extremely dedicated to your patients. There’s no way that wouldn’t translate over into being a parent.”

“Oh…well, uh, thank you. I, uh, believe it is your turn.”

“…I have a twin.”

“In addition to your four other brothers?”

“No, he’s one of the five of us. His name is…was Remus.”

“Was?”

“Truth be told, I don’t know if I should be saying is or was about him. I don’t even know if he’s alive or not.”

“Roman…”

“He was a surgeon in the military. Reconstructive surgery was technically his specialty but over there he functioned mostly as a trauma surgeon. He loved it; he was never phased by gruesome injuries or the horrors of combat. He just did his job saving as many lives as he could so they could go on to keep ours back home safe. One day, their compound was raided and…he was never heard from again. A lot of soldiers died that day but…they never found his body.”

“Oh, Roman…you have my deepest condolences. The amount of grief you’ve had to endure…it’s quite unfair.”

“Don’t worry, Specs. I’m all right. I know it may sound…completely ridiculous but he could still be alive. It’s one of the few things I still hope for…that one day I’ll see my brother again.”

“I understand even more why you’re so protective of the brothers you have here now.”

“Congratulations, Doctor. You just figured out why we tell each other secrets.”

****

The first thing Roman felt when he woke up was pain. Pain in his chest, pain in his throat, God, it felt like he was choking on something-

“Roman? Roman, calm down, don’t fight the intubation, okay? We’ll get it out, just hold on.” That sounded like Virgil, why was Virgil taking him off a vent?

Oh. Right. He got shot.

He got shot and almost died.

He got shot and needed surgery. He had just had surgery to take a bullet out of his chest. Chest…cardiovascular…where was Logan?

Roman knew he wouldn’t be able to get much out at first, but he had to try. He took a breath that rattled in his throat and attempted to speak. “Lo…Lo-”

“Shh, shh, don’t try to talk, Ro. I know who you want; I’ll go get him.” Virgil turned to leave, not even making it one step before he was stopped short by a vice-like grip on his wrist. He turned back to see Roman staring at him with wide eyes, almost pleading with him to understand. Virgil nodded; the message clearly received.

“I know you’re grateful. I’m not hurt. I’m just…really glad to see you make it, man.” Virgil left before anyone could acknowledge the tears threatening to stain his face and Roman found that being alone was scarier than it should be. After all, he had no idea where the shooter was; Logan could have hidden him away to fix him, he could still be here somewhere, lurking, waiting to take another shot that would surely end his life this time-

“Roman? Calm down, your heart rate is way too high. Just breathe, you’re safe.” The neurosurgeon’s eyes met with two dark pools of worry and he locked onto them, Logan urging him to match his breathing. “That’s right; breathe with me. You’re safe. We’re safe right now.” Once Roman’s chest evened out, Logan reached over and grabbed a paper cup full of lukewarm water and handed it to the eager patient.

“Don’t drink too fast, Roman. Slow sips. There you go.” A moment of silence passed. “I’m sorry it’s not cold, I couldn’t seem to locate any ice.”

“The…the shooter-”

“Dead.” Logan’s tone was abrupt and cold. “The shooter is dead; you don’t have to worry about him any longer.”

Roman nodded slowly to not aggravate his already sore body any further. “You saved me.”

Logan nodded absently, staring a hole into the linoleum floor. “I know.”

“Then you know…you know I cannot thank you enough- “

“How dare you?” Logan whispered softly.

“Wh- what?”

“How dare you! How dare you just…waltz into my life and torture me and make me hate you then apologize and befriend me and make me respect you?”

Roman’s eyes widened in shock. “I-I’m sorry- “

“No! No, you do not get to apologize because…because you don’t even leave it there; I can’t just respect you, you then start to make me like you and want you around and want to be near you and then, oh God, you even go as far as to make me fall for you! And just when I figure that out, just when I’m finally able to admit the depth of my feelings for you to myself, just when I finally muster up the courage to even consider telling you about how I…feel, then you decide to go and almost die on me?! And on top of it, you make me be the one to have to save you! How DARE YOU?!”

The entire room stuttered to a halt, save for Logan’s ragged breathing. He was outright crying at this point and quite honestly, Roman wasn’t far behind him. “Logan…I’m so sorry- “

“Shut up! Just shut up! Please just…just tell me you want me too. Tell me I’m not crazy. Tell me that I don’t ever have to live without you because today I learned that losing you feels far too similarly to dying myself so if that is not the case…tell me now so I can figure out how to survive.” A long, tense, quiet moment passed before either of them spoke again.

“Logan,” Roman coughed abruptly, wincing as the motion sent shockwaves of pain through his ribs. He cleared his abused throat and tried again. “Logan, look at me.” The dark-haired surgeon looked up into the soulful eyes of the injured man laying in the hospital bed below him.

“Roman, please,” he pleaded, his voice impossibly soft.

“You can survive without me…but I promise you, as long as I am alive, you will not ever have to.” Logan’s head shot up and before he could control himself, he launched into the bed with Roman, just barely remembering to avoid his ribs and all the wires attached to him. He mumbled a hushed prayer of thank you, thank you, thank you as he curled himself into the space between Roman’s body and the railing of the bed. Roman took a moment to settle before he rested his head against the taller man’s shoulder, exhaustion beginning to blur out the edges of his vision. Logan kissed the crown of his head and wrapped his arms around his newfound love in the gentlest protective hold he could muster, allowing the neurosurgeon to succumb to sleep.

“Rest, Roman. I have you. You are safe. You’re safe with me.”

****

Dr. Picani was a typically patient man but this? This argument he was deeply tired of.

“What I fail to understand is how I continually prove myself to be trustworthy over and over again and you continually shut me out!”

“It is not about you, Roman.”

“Then what is it about? Why wouldn’t you tell me about something like this?”

“I’m telling you now!”

“Yeah, two weeks after the fact and I technically had to hear about it from Virgil!”

“Have you considered that. just maybe, I felt some shame? I had achieved six months of solid sobriety and I nearly threw all of that away in mere minutes!”

“You were obviously triggered by something.”

“I was weak! I failed to keep myself together yet again! And if it weren’t for Virgil dragging me to a meeting and convincing me to tell you, I’d probably still be failing.” Struggling doesn’t make you weak, Logan. The therapist scribbled the thought in his notebook, making a reminder to bring that point up later. He was about to interject when he realized that for the first time in a few minutes, there was silence. Dr. Picani’s head snapped up at the sudden quiet to see Roman’s eyes rapidly filling with tears. Well, this is unexpected.

“Roman? What’s wrong? Say what you’re thinking.”

“I…am I the trigger? Have I pushed you too far?” Good job, Roman, the therapist praised silently, way to take ownership!

Logan’s stomach churned guiltily at the tentative question. “No. You have gotten so much better about that. You did nothing wrong, you are perfect, it’s me, I am…broken.” Logan cursed himself internally for how his voice cracked at the end of his sentence, but he had to keep going. “I want to be good enough for you, but I constantly fail you and I don’t want you to see it. But I fear that one day you will and the fact that I love you won’t be enough to make you stay.” And good job being honest about your fears, Logan. These two have come so far.

While Roman knew just how necessary it was for Logan to admit how he felt, God, how it broke Roman’s heart. He reached out slowly and touched Logan’s hand, chest tightening even more when he felt the muscles jump under his palm. He breathed a sigh of relief when the brunette managed to make eye contact with him, the shared gaze giving him the courage to continue.

“Logan, you’re forgetting one very important thing. I love you too. I don’t want you to be perfect. I want you to be you. Yes, you are strong and brilliant, and I love when you are confident and at your best. But I don’t just love you then. I also love you when you’re hurt, when you’re scared, when you’re less than perfect. Lord knows that I am all those things and you don’t shy away from any of that with me. We’re all a little bit broken but we need each other to keep ourselves together. So, yes, I want you to be strong and healthy but if you can’t be? If it gets hard for you to be that? I still want you.”

“All of me?” Logan whispered.

“The whole damn thing.” Roman paused suddenly, a moment of deliberation passing through his eyes. Logan watched as he seemed to come to some sort of internal decision. He felt the grip on his hand tighten into a gentle squeeze…and then gasped as he watched Roman slide off the couch they shared and drop to one knee.

“Oh my God,” Logan choked out. A loud clatter sounded in front of them as Emile dropped his notebook, both hands flying up to either side of his face,

“Oh my God!” Roman chuckled damply at the poorly contained squeal.

“Save it for the end, Picani.” He pulled out a small black box from his pocket, relishing in the way Logan’s eyes lit up at the sight of it. “I’ve been carrying around this thing for weeks wondering when the right time to ask you was, but truth be told, I could have done it anytime. I didn’t have to wait for some perfect moment because every moment is perfect with you. An appropriate time period in our relationship didn’t need to pass because every minute that goes by is another minute that I am undoubtedly grateful to have spent with you. I didn’t need a counselor to tell me if I’m making the right decision. I just need to look at you and see that all my futures, all my forevers and tomorrows live in your eyes. You are the answer to every question I’ve ever had, even the ones I didn’t know I was asking. So today, I am not proposing marriage. I am affirming my sure commitment to you for the rest of my life. The ring is yours today, tomorrow, and for years to come. There’s no time limit, no expiration date. All you have to do is take it when you’re ready.”

Logan sat in stunned silence as his mind turned over every word of Roman’s confession. Slowly taking the sapphire studded ring from the now open box, he turned it over in his fingers and watched as the light danced with the gems, searching the depths of his heart for any hesitation. He handed the ring back to Roman and slowly turned his hand over, palm facing down.

“Put it on me. I’m ready.”

The squeal that Dr. Picani let out threatened to break glass.

****

“Patton, I must insist that you let go of me before you completely cut off my oxygen supply!"

Patton somehow managed to squeeze Logan even tighter for the briefest of seconds before releasing him.

“Sorry, Doc, I’m just so darned excited for you both! Virgil, isn’t it just amazing? They’re getting married!” Virgil chuckled at the giddy look on Patton’s face.

“I swear, you are a living heart eyes emoji. And yeah, it’s pretty damn cool considering you guys hated each other when you met.”

“My God, you would bring that up,” Roman rolled his eyes as Logan and Patton collectively groaned. Patton delivered a playful smack to Virgil’s arm.

“Virgil! Leave them alone, they’re in love now.” Virgil raised an eyebrow down at his partner’s glossy eyes, almost feverish with excitement and something close to…envy? He elected not to comment as turned to embrace the newly engaged pair one more time.

“Whatever, I know the truth. But seriously, congratulations. I’m sorry I’ve gotta run, I’m assisting on a general surgery case and I’ve gotta change out of chief attire. I’ll see you both later this week, celebratory sushi? Friday night?”

“You bet, Tickle-Me-Emo!” Virgil glared at the nickname as he disappeared into the bathroom of the attendings’ lounge. Patton went in for the hundredth hug and jumped as his pager suddenly went off.

“Uh oh, gotta run, looks like a crash C-section. Congrats to you both again! Bye!” he shouted boisterously as he ran down the hallway.

“I’m afraid I must depart as well, my love. It does not inspire respect in my residents if I’m late for rounds.” Roman beamed at the cardiac surgeon, seemingly unaware of anything he just said. “What?” Logan asked hotly.

“You called me your love. You claimed me.” Embarrassment curled up Logan’s neck as he shook his head fondly and leaned in to kiss his now fiancée.

“You are so endearingly sentimental. I will see you at home, my love.” He smirked as he walked out of the door at the way Roman’s knees seemed to buckle just the smallest amount. The neurosurgeon stood in the middle of the room chuckling to himself when he heard a low, smooth voice speak up behind him.

“You’re engaged?” Roman turned around, his face falling in sympathy at the person behind him.

“Oh, Declan…yes. Yes, I am.” The fellow surgeon turned his face to the side to hide his tears, displaying the long scar that ran down the left side of his face. Without warning, he was suddenly being embraced by Roman who seemed to be unable to stop his own tears as they soaked the corner of his scrubs.

“You know, if Remus were here and we weren’t already married by now, we could have planned a double wedding,” Declan murmured.

“He would have loved that. He loved you so much.” Declan pulled away, his glance suddenly dropping to the floor.

“I wish I could tell you what happened to him.” Roman placed a hand on the orthopedic surgeon’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. I know you weren’t there. You couldn’t have done anything to change it.” Declan smiled weakly, nodding a silent goodbye before leaving the room. He paused at the doorway facing the empty hallway.

“Congratulations. Really, you deserve to be happy.” Roman let out a small sob as Declan left, swiftly brushing the tears away before heading to his own rounds.

Neither of them remembered that Virgil was in the bathroom, listening to their entire conversation…and absolutely seething with fury.

[masquerade-reimagined]

Today, a crazy-ass, extra-garbage post from a fanfic reader tumbled onto my feed. I don’t know the person who wrote it. I’ve never interacted with them, I doubt very much they’ve seen anything I’ve written, and I don’t really want to reblog the post and give it more traction (even if most of what I’ve seen related to it is people calling out the OP’s ridiculous behavior). The gist of its content was the assumption that, as a fan fiction reader, OP was entitled to the fanfic they wanted when they wanted it, and anything that wasn’t done in a timely manner or featured pairings OP didn’t like was not to be tolerated.

Now, I haven’t been doing this for very long, so I don’t have a ton of readers. My fic is an edit, a re-write, and the format I’ve selected for it means each chapter is lengthy (it’s long af, guys). It takes me a long time to get each post to the standard I would like it to be, and I’m not opposed to editing a previously posted installment if I think it needs to be reworked in some way. My stuff isn’t for everyone -- whose is?

That being said, the outpouring of support and generosity that I’ve seen from my little cluster of readers is astounding. I cannot even fathom a person like the OP of the aforementioned nonsense existing in this community because of how amazing the people I’ve come across have been. Maybe I’ve been lucky. There are people in this fandom (here and on other platforms) I’ve connected with in ways that feel like I’ve known them for years instead of only weeks. (Huh. Maybe that’s what we’re supposed to think happened when an LI professes love for the MC 30 seconds after meeting him/her.)

Maybe it’s because the fanbase for the original book my fic is based on is so much smaller and largely less contentiously split between LIs. There are, like, 25 of us. And we all know Kayden is the superior LI. 😉 (I’m just kidding. The more I’m in Hunter’s brain, the better I understand why people would choose them, even if I regretted it after 1.5 chapters.)

Maybe it’s because the people who don’t like what I’ve done just haven’t felt the need to tell me they don’t like it. Which they’re welcome to do. Feedback is the only way I know something is working because I sure as hell don’t read my own stuff once I’m done with it, so I have no idea what it’s like.

Whatever the reason is, to the authors who get harassed by impatient readers or readers who give you shit because they’re bigots don’t like the choices you’ve made, I’m sorry you have such negative energy in your personal space. You don’t deserve that. You shouldn’t have to deal with it. But these are your stories; they’re your versions to tell, so keep telling them. Do it for yourself, if you need to, but don’t stop.

To the people who feel the same way as whatever-the-hell-their-name-was, the people who want to make callout posts about how they shouldn’t have to harass writers for the content they want to see: if you don’t like it, don’t read it. Instead of bitching because the person who is writing your current favorite story has a life or has temporarily lost interest or is suffering from writer’s block and thinks every idea they’ve ever had is total BS, remember that the entity on the other end of this ethereal connection you’ve made is a human being. A person. So politely ask for an update or just check in to say hi and see how they’re doing. Or find somebody else to read for the time being -- or forever. Or write something yourself. Don’t be a dick about it. If you haven’t paid someone for it, you aren’t entitled to it. These writers are doing this because they want to, because they love it. They’re under no obligation to make things solely to satisfy you. And your bitter ass is making it a lot less fun for them.

And to my readers: I found this sparkly little notebook I bought forever ago and have never used. I’m going to print out all the love and goodness you guys send my way and put it in there, so that when I’m having a bad time for any reason, or if I need a reminder of who is waiting for chapter 3 (! OMG I’M SO SORRY I’M SO SLOW !), or I just want to feel like someone out there gives a crap -- I’ll have my little pocket-sized book of your kindness that I can carry around with me. A constant reminder that not everything in this world sucks. ❤️ I love you guys.

I’m going back to working on chapter 3 now, I promise.