#i've definitely lost the thread here sorry

[yrluvjane]

hi hi hi i'm sorry i've been off for a few days. you write so good. are you kidding me? about more requests, how about a reverse grumpy x sunshine because our boy James is the literal definition of sunshine. like reader is this no-nonsense type badass and he's just a sweet, yet protective but just overall a cutie pie?

eeee! I just finished writing this and i love it! Though, I don't know if this "grumpy", i lost that half way through writing. i hope you like it too! Seriously i love all requests, keep'em coming, honey <3

If James was a comforting, warm fire during the cold winter nights that brought everyone together, then you were the bracing, ice-cold wind that swept them all away.

The party atmosphere is wild, fun, and lively, with James dancing and drinking with some of your friends as the party rages on. It's a little odd to see you sitting alone at a table, casually nodding as Sirius drunkenly whispers in your ear.

You've noticed that from across the room, he keeps an unwavering gaze on you, his attention unwavering. When you turn to meet his gaze this time, you smirk and send him a teasing wink, as Sirius drunkenly rambles in your ear.

You turn back to Sirius, giving him your full attention, as it suddenly hits you that he may be high as well, not just drunk. When you turn to motion for your boyfriend to come over, he's gone. Your eyes search for him, and suddenly there's someone forcingly kissing your cheek as James appears with an enthusiastic grin on his face. "Gotcha," he proclaims triumphantly.

Sirius, next to you, slurs his words as he does a flossing gesture, "I mean it, Genius! Gets everything, y'know!" You can't help but humor him by nodding along, humoring his drunken antics. Then, James takes your hand, placing his warm fingers in between yours, linking them together tightly.

"What are you doing all alone?" James asks as he takes the drink from Sirius' hand. "I'm not alone, Sirius is here to tell me all about his newfound admiration for.. muggle floss. Now if you really want to impress me then you'd take your friend up to his dorm. " you say, your face splitting into a mischievous grin. James raised his brow in amusement.

"Wish they'd make a chocolate flavor, though."

They both faced the younger Black patriarch in confusion.

"What's a floss?" James' brows furrow, the confusion written all over his face. Even when you bite your lip to hide your grin, your eyes give you away, but before he has a chance to figure out what you're about to do, you turn to Sirius and exclaim, "Sirius, James doesn't know what floss is!" The black-haired boy turns to his friend in shock, mouth hanging open, his eyes wide with surprise. "Prongsie, no!" Sirius throws himself over your lap to reach James

"Okay, I get it. I'll get him to bed." James says with a heavy sigh, getting up from his seat. "Great! Cause I need to go take a shower." You say as you blow him a kiss. He faces Sirius with an exaggeratedly miserable demeanor, rolling his eyes at the black-haired boy. "Mate, I need you to tell me all about this floss thing," he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Sirius looks up at him with a confused expression on his face before breaking into a grin. "You'll love it! It's like a small thread and you put it in between your teeth!"

"What?"

When you return, a little over an hour has passed, and the party has died down significantly. The atmosphere is quieter now, with only a few small groups of people still clustered together in the corner of the room. Piles of passed out 7th-year students can be seen scattered across the floor as well. It's a bit somber compared to before, with most of the partygoers having either gone to bed or passed out from too much drink.

It's not long before you spot James sitting alone in the arm chair, his glasses placed neatly on a stand table nearby. He seems deep in thought, staring off into space as he relaxes in the quiet atmosphere of the now-empty party. You approach James, a small smirk on your face as you take a seat on his lap. "What are you still doing up?" you ask, your voice low and teasing. He looks up at you, his eyes filled with surprise, and before you can respond, he straightens up immediately, his voice firm and confident. "I have a girlfriend," he says, his mouth set in a determined line.

You tease him, saying "I don't see her," Without his glasses James can only make out colors. He looks up at you, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Well, what I said was enough, and I would like to get off, please," he says, a hint of annoyance in his voice. You grin at his response and get off his lap, only to sit on the arm of the chair. "Okay, would you tell me about her? Your girlfriend, that is," you say, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

"Oh, where do I start? She's smart, kind, and beautiful. We've only been together for a short while, but I can already talk about her all day. She's the perfect person for me, in every way." He sighs happily as he throws his head back. "Oh, she's feisty. Like a dragon, you know? Adorable and dangerous at the same time. You always have to be on your toes with her. But I love her for that. She's strong, confident. I feel like she can take on the world and I just want to be by her side to support her. She's my everything... I'm a lucky man to have her in my life."

You blush and sniffle as you reach over to grab his glasses from the table, a small smirk on your face. "I don't know about you, but it sounds like you're in love with me, James," you say with a mischievous glint in your eye.

He looks up at you, taken aback by your sudden comment and the teasing tone in your voice.

You smile as you slip James' glasses back onto his face, making his eyes widen in surprise as he realizes it's you. He laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. "You tricked me!" he exclaims, a smile spreading across his face.

You tutted, "I thought you were really in love with me, for a moment there."

"Maybe...but only a little,"

You blush and gasp as James pulls you onto his lap, your heart fluttering with excitement. You wrap your arms around his neck, your face close to his, your body pressed against his. He smiles down at you, his eyes warm and tender, and you feel as if you can see straight into him.

You pull back slightly, looking up into his eyes. "Only a little, huh?" you say, a small smirk playing at the corners of your mouth.

"Yeah," he says, his voice soft and low. "I can't help it, I guess. You're just so... I don't know... you're just you."

You laugh, feeling like you're on cloud nine. "Aw, how sweet," you say, your voice laced with sarcasm. "I don't know about you, but I'm not complaining. This feels pretty nice."

He chuckles, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear. "It does, doesn't it? Think we'll work out?"

You grin, your heart thrumming with happiness. "Well, I'm a sucker for a good time. And you, James Potter, are definitely providing that right now."

He leans in, his lips brushing against yours, and you feel the sparks flying as your mouths meet in a passionate kiss.

[withonly-sweetheart]

Threads of Carmine Red

They split your heart into two and the sticky sweet threads that hang between them only bring you closer to your doom. Can you every truly choose your fate? Or will it always be in their silky hands...?

a/n: ok erm so uh like well uh <- thats it. bye! characters are more expanded on in the endings because i cant do shit for shit. i fear.

heh now its time for credits

@candlekiss - MARI WHY'D YOU INSPIRE LIKE ALL OF THESE <3 but it was ur study of the scrapped character design of re8 ada that inspired this wildly massively changed sequence of events. LOVE YOU EITHER WAY POOKIE <3

@pxs-onthehunt - sorry for tagging you but your ada vampire art actually had me tweaking so hard... its kinda what inspired ada's personality throughout this... uh... thank you for your service <3

@vampiricgf <- kita tysm for helping with the atmosphere im still mindblown how your small piece of advice came SUCH a long way and i hope i've conveyed this right (probably havent sigh)

@eyesofsix - ur uhm aeon vampire art... harshi sent that to me because she was freaking out over it and i saw it and also freaked out and we danced in a freaking out circle together. your art is bringing people closer (together). <- stop the freaky jokes need to stop. BUT

(psst. if i didnt mention u in this one artist moots TRUST you're definitely in one of the other three.)

tw: descriptions of blood? ig? idfk something like that and then idek what this is man you just gotta read it ig (can you tell im off today THE OPPS HAVE WON SADLY)

wc: 2.2k

You don’t know where you’re going, but you do know that her eyes are following you. Tracking you, searing your back with their presence, origin unknown. You can confirm it is indeed a “her” watching you when that sultry voice finally appears from the shadows.

“Are you lost, little girl?” she muses, confident in a way you can’t quite explain. You try your best to be bold and lift your chin, surveying your surroundings in an unfavorable attempt to find her. “Ah, you won’t see me unless I want you to.”

“Do you know where I am?” you demand. “Can you get me out of here?”

“Ouch.” You can imagine a pout, yet no face to place it with. A simple expression with no master behind it, crimson lips twisted down. “Leaving so soon?”

“Yes,” you grit out. “I need to get back. Where the hell am I?”

“Can’t you tell?”

You glare out into the retreating light that only seems to twitch from your grasp as you near. A fretful game of tag that’ll never end, you fear. With a frown puckering your eyebrows, you glance upward, yet no flash of lightning comes through the night-ridden windows, useless in your pursuit. Only a flash of white-hot fear that surges through your blood.

A door creaks open somewhere to your left. You know better than to trust mysterious voices from the dark, but guidance is scarce in a place like this. At least you assume your location to be applicable to those terms, foolishly, perhaps.

“Go ahead,” she coaxes softly. “I’m simply helping you.”

Perhaps if there were light, you could’ve seen that she was trailing you the entire time, never more than a few steps away, itching to get her hands on you yet shoving that instinct into a box in her mind, a box known as patience.

You might’ve also noticed the pointed edges of her teeth when she grins as you stupidly stumble into the door, feeling around for the knob, and she waits with her hands clasped behind her back before you trip past something into the room.

And you miss her silently closing the door behind you.

There’s light in this room, thankfully, a dim light that only sparks to life after you take another few steps. A lantern tosses shadows in your face, painting the room in dramatic proportions, making the small area seem larger than life.

“Hello?” you call out, timidly. “Is anyone there?”

You shut your mouth immediately as soon as there’s yet another high pitched squeal from the floorboards, unable to support your weight as well as you’d like, and something splinters behind you. 

Spinning around to find nothing there throws you off balance, and you manage to get your foot stuck in the broken wood. You make the mistake of reaching down, kneeling and pawing at your foot, which leaves you with minor scratches on your now free foot.

It comes with the cost of blood welling up, tears of your skin gushing from a painful gash that somehow goes unnoticed in the first few seconds of shock before you scream. Then you slam your uninjured hand back over your mouth, trying not to scowl at yourself, biting at the knuckle in a silly attempt to cancel out the pain.

It doesn’t work. If anything, it seems your efforts have all been in vain. A weak kick is delivered to your neck, and you sway to the side lightly. There’s an unimpressed growl from behind you, just before something strikes the same area at least ten times harder, and your vision goes dark, fading from your sideways slant of the room.

<><><><>

“Stop moving,” a voice hums in your ear. It seems too sudden for you, jerking back to life like a monster, flailing and thrashing your limbs. You’re bound with something, rope, maybe, but the state of panic sends adrenaline rushing to your head.

“It’s like she does the opposite of whatever you say,” that same sultry voice remarks, albeit from a distance, which doesn’t scare you as much as the presence looming over your shoulder.

“Relax,” it muses, too quiet to determine whether it’s male or female, too subtle to know the differences. Your calf burns, as if your wound has magically gotten larger, spreading over the expanse of bare skin where your pants are rolled up.

You blink and still at the feather light touch of calloused fingertips tracing up your arm, drawing the silhouette of your body, yet the feeling is almost… otherworldly.

“What…” you sputter, an unwelcome shudder rippling through your body. “What are you?”

“What are you,” the woman combats, “if not a creature of Earth?”

They remain pure voices, the harmony of male and female in perfect vocals that may as well be songs themselves, yet the pure chill of fear thrums alongside your searing blood, at every subtle touch unwillingly placed onto your skin.

“Just let me go, please,” you plead, just short of convincing. A string inside you unravels, tugging you back towards them, an unprecedented attraction that could try to coil back up, spin back into a shape in your body, but it reaches for them.

You imagine a well trimmed finger, sharp nails glinting in the darkness, source of light unknown, curling around that thread, a leash for a disobedient dog.

“Aren’t you just that?” she muses. “A sweet little puppy? A human plaything for the society that has existed long before you were even a thought in your ancestors’ flimsy minds. They were no smarter than you, it seems.”

You nod in compliance, feeling yourself slip further and further away, stretching your legs in an attempt to swim through the murky liquid you feel yourself sinking into, trying to reach for the glowing spool, the source of all your turmoil, but it fades within the violent waves.

“She will suffice,” another voice huffs out, the one with the ghastly touch. “Prepare her.”

“Why should it be me?” she scoffs. “You’ve gotten your hands dirty, do it yourself.”

Uh oh. Looks like Mom and Dad are fighting.

<><><><>

The next time you find yourself, it takes what seems like hours to trudge through the inky, vast darkness threatening to swallow you whole. But you see your soul sparkling, woven in as gems of memories within the thin line, glowing so intensely you fear you might burn yourself upon touching it.

But your fingers graze the raised material and you immediately sit upright, eyes blown open as you force yourself to take steady breaths, trying to readjust to the feeling of being in control of your own body.

What had really happened back there? She was the puppeteer to your mindless actions, unable to change the course of events from your glass bubble, restricting your air, trying to erase all evidence of you. You wonder who the mysterious, sultry woman is.

“Thank you.” The same voice calls out, this time from the only patch of darkness available in the well-lit room, morning sun casting warmth onto your cheek as you crane your neck up to catch a glance of the woman.

Narrow eyes peer back at you, and the light in the room shifts quickly enough for you to acknowledge her eerily pale skin, tinted lips the only pop of color in her otherwise drab outfit, a black cloak with crimson accents splashed here and there.

Only when she drops from the ceiling do you realize that they aren’t accents at all. Splotches of dried blood, you see more closely as she approaches, and you scramble back on the mattress you’ve been placed on, only to have your back meet the wall in a most unpleasant manner.

“Don’t worry,” she says with a chuckle. “I won’t hurt you.”

You resist the urge to furrow your eyebrows, fearing that she might take it as a sign of disrespect and pounce. How often do you see vampires? Trick question, the answer is never. You’re not prepared in the slightest, yet you can’t deny the awe that quickly fills you.

Awe at her appearance. If you hadn’t seen the blood, you wouldn’t have even begun to suspect she’s a blood sucking demon, and even now you find yourself doubting the very idea. How could someone so nice be evil?

“I… apologize if I came off strange earlier,” she says with a smile that curves her teeth, and you fight to discern her teeth from her fangs, almost undetectable if you weren’t hanging off your seat and biting your nails in anticipation of them. “You must understand our hesitations to accept a new member.”

“A… new… member?” You test out each word slower than the last, and you feel like you’re back in primary school with a teacher, bless her, patient enough to guide you through it.

“It’s been millennia since a human has met our qualifications. When Leon scouted you, I knew-”

“Leon?” you interrupt. Irritation sparks in her eyes, previously warm, melted honey freezing up quickly. “He’s the guy who was following me here!”

“Yes, but-”

“And he was the one who tied me up!” you say with a gasp. “So who are you?”

“It looks like you’re more interested in talking than listening.” The woman - or should you say vampire? -  curls her lip and you can’t tell if it’s in distaste or carefully placed amusement. It feels like you’re tiptoeing on ice, cracks reverberating through the room, devastating enough to bring the entire building down.

“Sorry.”

“Hm.” She lifts her nose, somewhat haughtily. “You’re quite gullible, aren’t you?”

“Better fix that soon, ma’am,” a voice replied sarcastically from the doorway. Ada shifts her figure so you can see who, but of course, their identity becomes quickly hidden with the light playing on their face, shadows from their cloak hood dapping the planes of their face.

“I’d think twice about talking down to me, Leon,” she replies suavely, a smile coaxing her lips into emotion. “She already knows.”

You swear you can hear his teeth gnash against each other. “That was my job, Ada.”

“Your one job,” she teases, eyes flitting down to you with a subtle wink before turning to face him with an all too important look, “and I beat you to it.”

“Ada,” you test out quietly. Even the name sounds foreign, a medley of arcane qualities and inscrutable judgment. 

"Tell me then," Leon says in a low voice, stepping further into the room. You press back into the plush mattress, sensing the tension mounting between them. "What exactly have you told our guest?" 

"Only that which she deserves to know," Ada replies coyly.

"Which is?"

She levels him an unimpressed stare. "Patience. All will be explained in due time." 

Leon shoots you a glance, lips thin. "How have you found our hospitality so far? Comfortable?"

You nod hesitantly, eyeing the door behind him. "Very kind of you all, though the circumstances of my arrival were... unconventional."

Ada offers a soft chuckle. "Leon lacks finesse, perhaps true. But fear not - harm will not come to you here." Her reassurance does little to do any of its intended purpose. Part of you longs to trust her gentle words and curious gaze, yet Leon's wariness makes you wonder what other truths lie beneath the surface. 

"I understand you must have questions," Ada continues. "Please, ask what you will. An open exchange benefits us all."

You hesitate, darting knowing looks between them. Leon's intense glare conveys he wishes to avoid certain subjects.

"If I may... what exactly are you going to do to me?"

Ada’s enigmatic smile vanishes. Leon scoffs.

“I thought you informed her of her purpose, Ada,” he says, her name coming out of his mouth laced with venom, the same that swirls through your mind as their gazes bore into your mind.

And for the first time since you’ve seen him, Leon grins.

“You are going to become one of us.”

You blink, the words becoming garbled with all the background noise fresh in your mind, coarse tongue lead weight in your mouth, running your teeth over chapped lips.

“And now, we play a little game,” Ada says, although reluctantly, as if suddenly her eagerness has been replaced with the grim truth. “You must pick.”

“Pick… what?”

“One of us,” Leon says, stepping forward. “One of us will grant you freedom; you’ll wake up safe in your home, with no recollection of this incident.”

“Yet the other will lead you to our cause, the same fate that befell us.” Ada’s face has gone stony, giving no hints of which path she leads. “You will join us. This is less of a game, and more a test of your judgment. Choose wisely.”

They unfurl their hands like broken angels, reaching down from you in an inverted version of heaven, more reaching up from hell, but you can’t say that, now can you? Neither of them are trustworthy enough, so you quickly make a decision. 

And you reach for…

ADA?

or

LEON?

[rapha-reads]

Things from Interview With The Vampire s02e04 (ep11) I noticed:

[Edit 1: Actually this turned into a live-commenting, sorry]

[Edit 2: Keep in mind, I haven't read the books, so all of these observations are born from the show itself and the few (lots of) spoilers and narrative plot points I've gleaned here and there.]

Both Claudia and Louis are so bored with the coven. Or maybe bored isn't the word, but... Done? Frustrated and annoyed? Restless? Louis because he never intended to join and so cares not all for all their internal affairs. Claudia because she thought she'd finally have the life she wanted and instead is being forced to relive the tragedy of her life day after day.

And Armand rejoices in drawing them further apart, scolding and punishing Claudia while begging scraps from Louis.

And he's soooo jealous. The face he makes when Louis starts explaining what Dreamstat feels like is priceless.

Also, personal theory: either Louis is indeed suffering psychotic breaks after psychotic breaks, or just manifesting his own version of Lestat because he doesn't want to let go. Or Lestat can astral project and has been stalking Louis from the moment they left New Orleans.

The coven is tearing itself apart. And normally I'd add "and Armand isn't even seeing it/taking it seriously yet" but given that the whole of them are unreliable narrators and that Armand is a shady ass bitch whose only agenda is himself, I'd say he's well aware and purposefully making it worse.

I can't make sense of Santiago yet, though. Is he jealous? Ambitious? Is he fond of Claudia? Does he hate her? He definitely hates Louis, but is it just jealousy or real antipathy? Oh, but Louis is still my precious special kitten and that speech about Paris, art and modernity, as a contemporary culture student, made me vibrate a little out of my chair, and Santiago clowning him makes me want to claw his face. We get it, you hate him and you think he's pretentious, now can you shut up and let us talk a bit more about the art scene in Paris post-WW2 and why Louis is absolutely right, Picasso isn't all that impressive in the end? Thanks. Bacon tho, Bacon is interesting. My contemporary art teacher last year was excruciatingly boring, but he had a boner for both Louise Bourgeois and Bacon and we spent several hours on them (and not nearly enough about Mapplethorne, alas). Anyway. I feel ya, Lou. I have been called pretentious too for simply getting excited about art, culture and folkore.

I'm rooting for Louis and Claudia to kill them all off and run away to Italy. I know it won't happen, but one can dream, eh.

Is Armand messing up with both Daniel by getting into his mind and Louis by switching the photos? Interesting. Two people who have a shitton of issues stuck with a sadistic, insecure and bitter control freak who's been pulling the threads since way before anyone realises. And Louis is so lost in his trauma and grief and anger, he trusts Armand and doesn't see what's happening and been happening to him for 70 years, while Daniel is just a sad, sick old man who thinks he knows his life and what his future entails. Armand is definitely having fun.

"Je n'aime pas fenêtre quand fermée" is NOT FRENCH, MY EARS. I will be picky, I don't care for artistic licence. Correct sentence would be "je n'aime pas les fenêtres quand elles sont fermées". Admittedly, if it goes into a song, you'd have to respect the length of the line and all those musical measures. But still. You could shorten the numbers of syllables by dropping the language register: "j'aime pas les f'nêtres quand elles sont fermées" ; from 12 or 13 to 9, the original line being 8 or 9. Depending on whether you say "je-n'ai-me-pas" or "je-n'aim-pas" and "fe-nê-tres" or "fe-nêtres". Anyway. I'm sure the writers had those discussions (I hope; hey, AMC, hire me, I'm a good proofreader and I speak 5 languages).

Me: oh, Louis isn't even bothering now, he's directly talking to... Wait, is Lestat eating that photo? If it's Dreamstat: the hell is going on in your head, Louis? If it's Astral Lestat: that is certainly a choice, my friend.

"Barely Balthasar", LMAO, Lestat I fucking love you. Poor Balthasar always gets forgotten in adaptations. Nope, we're not here to talk R&J, moving on.

Armand: "this is my tragic backstory. Feel pity for me. I'm the good guy." Me: yeaaah, how much of this is actually real? And, uh, no, like Lestat said: ha! You're a storyteller and a conman, Armand. You weave your story to pluck at the heart's threads of your audience, modulating it to their sensibilities to better serve your own interests and your plans. What are those interests, these plans? Hell if I know. But I absolutely do not trust you at all.

HANDS OFF CLAUDIA OR I'LL BITE

"The wilderness that is our daughter" have I said lately how much I love Lestat.

Oh, hello, the Loustat scene on the bench just broke my heart, which is funny if you consider that that's just Louis breaking up with himself. Also, do we consider Louis knew about the initials in the pocket, and Dreamstat is saying what Louis wants him to say, or is it another unreliable narrator Louis, or is it Lestat himself...?

Aw, going from the Loumand scene on the bench to "toxic gay divorce with body count" sure is a tonal shift. Lmao. You're losing your touch, Armand. Louis' awakening. Daniel's awakening... San Francisco next, that will be fun. Excited to see how they've changed that part, knowing it's the red thread of the first book.

...

Oooh, that got long. Apologies. I really need to sit and read those books.

[fixaidea]

So at this point I think I'm deep enough into DMBJ to allow myself to have some Opinions, so here they are:

Books:

I'm only in the early chapters of Vol. 4 (basically the beginning of Ultimate Note) so a lot may change, but so far it's an enjoyable adventure series. It's refreshing that they're allowed to say 'zombie' and 'grave robber'. Also it makes much more internal sense than most of the dramas, not to mention the individual arcs get their proper mini-climaxes instead of leaving you with never ending narrative blueballs.

The consolidation of the Iron Triangle is a lot slower than in the dramas, but I know they'll get there, I've seen all the cute excerpts from the later books!

Also, I'm usually very wary of First Person narration, because the entire enjoyability of the book hinges on how entertaining the Main Character is, there's no escaping their head. Luckily Wu Xie is an interesting and fun head to be in. I cannot logically explain why he's giving me Rincewind vibes, but he kinda does. It's probably the constant internal screaming - though for him, when the 'flight or fight' instinct kicks in, he starts to bite.

Dramas:

The Lost Tomb:

The good: Say what you will, but I like the visuals. Also they were still allowed to say 'zombie' here.

The bad: I have nothing against Yang Yang, but the hair stylist obviously did.

The Lost Tomb 2:

The good: Cheng Yi and his ears.

The bad: ...So did we ever find out wtf was all that about Zhang Buxun? 'Cause if anything even remotely similar happens in the books, it comes up way further back, if at all. (If this thread DOES get resolved in 2,5 then I apologise, but pretty much everyone who mentions that drama warns against bothering with it, so I never did.)

Theirs is probably the least book-like Wu Xie.

Ultimate Note:

The good: Love this Iron Triangle, and generally I had more fun with this than the pervious two dramas.

The bad: I understand that if you don't have much of a budget quality soundtrack is probably the first to go, but I don't have to LIKE it.

Sha Hai:

The good: Man I love this one. Pretty self-contained, also one of the best production-quality-vise. Also all the thumbs-up to Qin Hao for pulling off this ruthless, bitter Wu Xie with just enough hints of the old Tianzhen that you can see this is still the same character.

The bad: Li Cu, my guy, I'm so sorry but I couldn't give a shit about awkward teenage love-stories when I was an awkward teenager and I'm not gonna start now.

Reboot (I'm only at ep. 14, so jury is still out):

The good: Definitely the best production, and I love the soundtrack.

The bad: Did the author fall out of love with Pangzi or...? In all other versions he's fun AND competent, here he's been relegated to a clown. :(

[thelongestway]

FFXIV Write 2024, Prompt #5: Stamp

Sharlayan was a city with an actual immigration policy. One would almost wonder why they'd need one, being an island in the middle of the ocean with so few visitors that any outsider would stick out like a sore thumb. But they did.

I suppose the problem with being a city run by scholars is that they like their neat graphs too much to give up the paperwork, even as they groan and suffer when they have to fill it in themselves, as the Archons and other Sharlayans were doing as the ship docked.

"As professort Montichaigne used to say, 'If you haven't collected the right kind of data, then that's something you won't be able to fix later without starting all over,'" Alphinaud said sagely as he finished up his own application form. I could swear, his pensmanship got neater the more nervous he was.

"Yes, well, as master Matoya used to say, one has to think before collecting any data at all. The point of all this paperwork is lost on me," Y'Shtola put her signature on the form with a flourish and then looked at me. "Is the form going well? They can be somewhat counterintuitive, especially for a non-citizen."

"They're ridiculous," I admitted, "but I think I have the gist of it. If you would kindly look it over when I've finished, to see if I've missed anything?"

"Of course."

In a few more minutes she did just that, and I watched her eyes widen and mouth curl into an appreciative conspiratorial grin.

"This I have to see," she handed the form back to me. "Everything looks good to me."

I returned the grin as I put away the document on top of my pack. "Well, not long now."

Soon, we were standing in front of the migrations office. I was dressed for what my application said, of course; simple trades clothing, some hefty bags. The only thing giving me away was my thaumaturgists' staff, but I'd always preferred to glamor those as simply as possible. This one looked like a walking stick.

The Lalafellin immigrations officer allowed the Archons in immediately, of course, and the Levellieur twins - with a warning about their father, which they took in stride. Then she turned to me.

"Name and occupation?"

I gave my name. And added: "Alchemist."

The Archons stared. Y'Shtola stifled a laugh. The immigrations officer didn't notice.

"Alchemist? A rather more constructive pursuit than most of the 'adventurers' by vocation we get here. What do you specialize in?"

"I make pots." I said, doing my best to imitate Elezen scholars everywhere - that is, to make a self-evident statement that somehow nonetheless assumed my collocutor's ignorance.

"I'm sorry, pots?" The immigration officer frowned. "I must bring to your attention that if you have any restricted drugs or substances in your possession you must declare them."

"I'm an alchemist," I repeated. "I have a list of volatile substances prepared and attached for your perusal. However, as I believe that we are talking about two vastly different definitions of 'pots', I would like to state for the record that while I am also trained as a botanist, growing any of the species of plants the preparations of which are known colloquially as 'pot' here in Sharlyan would possibly afford me an automatic lecturers' position at your Studium. The climate just isn't right, you see, but..."

Impressively, the immigrations officer did not lose the thread once, even as she skimmed the rather long list as I spoke. The public speaking skills of local scholars must be truly abysmal; no wonder Alphinaud routinely ran circles around them since childhood.

"You've made your point, scholar," she said, finally putting a stamp on the application. And then she smiled at me - a strange, half-hidden smile. "But I think you do need to visit the Studium at some point. If you believe growing a staple source of cloth, food, dyes and medicine is impossible for our botanists merely due to vagaries of climate, you will... Find meeting them to your benefit."

"I'm certain," I said, and made way for Estinien.

As I took my place next to the twins, Alisaie whispered: "Alchemist? Really?"

"I do make high quality pots."

She giggled.

"You'll fit right in."

[anonymous-dentist]

In my head, Roier never actually gave birth and instead it's another one of his fantasies. It helps reinforce how unstable, sad and yearning for love he actually is; my poor baby :(

But I see you've taken a different route, I guess.

I just love the idea of Roier being so clueless about love in general, so lost in his mind that his thoughts blur with reality to create his own;

Just Cell and him lying side by side, Cell caressing gently along his body.

Roier "Ah, sorry about these marks, I know they're ugly"

Cell stops. "What marks?"

I'm just sharing my headcanon with the world because I love but you can totally ignore this ask if you want, no hard feelings!

Peace and Love and Murder ✌

(Another note: I also hc that Natalan is, in fact, fucking terrified and horrified by Roier deep down. Poor dude, at least Cell is here to be a new object of obsession!)

(You accidentally sent this twice, so I'll just answer this one! :D)

Now, to be fair, I haven't actually seen Chafaland. Because I don't speak Spanish. But I have read a recap thread, and idk much about Chafaland lore, but I do know a Little Creature when I see one:

So this is the canon I'm going with for Bad Romance. He had a kid, and you can guess what that implies for his character pretty easily. (🏳️‍⚧���)

To me, the Sally that he ended up imagining was Sally 2. He also fully believes that he's going to open his eyes one day and find Sally Harold back in his arms. Once upon a time, he also imagined Natalan being there with him. Now, he pictures someone else in bed next to him cooing at their baby, and he's definitely over Natalan.

Definitely.

This is just what I'm working with though! I haven't seen the actual series, so who knows? This is what I've got, but your headcanon is obviously chill, too.

I do personally agree with Natalan being fucking terrified of Roier, though. Watching through clips, he did everything he could to keep Roier away from him, but nothing seemed to work. Luckily for him, Roier is definitely over him now that he has Cell, who really doesn't understand what he's gotten into. He sealed his fate the second he told Roier in that meeting room that he would get married if he ever left Alcatraz. Now he's going to get married whether he likes it or not.

(Because, contrary to a lot of people's opinions, Cell is not the only one manipulating someone in this relationship. Roier knows what he wants, and he is going to get him, goddamnit!)

[seasonsmusings]

Rules of the (North) Pole

FOLLOWS/FOLLOW-BACKS

At least to start, I’m going to be fairly selective about who I follow/follow-back. However, if I have a clear understanding of your character and/or fandom, chances are I will eventually follow you back.

Even if I don’t follow you right away, please don’t be afraid to interact with me. The more we play together, the more chance there is I will follow you back.

There are several reasons I may end up not following someone. But the biggest one is obsessive posting of NSFW images or gifs. Often I am online at work and well, I just can’t have dicks all over my dash. Sorry.

THREADS/STARTERS/PLOTTING

I’ve tried doing starters for new followers in the past and it just never ended up well. They tend to get repetitive after a while and more often than not are lost on the dash. However, I will respond to any starters I am tagged in.

I am always open to plotting. Always. So if you have an idea (or even 11% of an idea), drop by my askbox and we’ll hash it out.

RESPONSE TIME

I run several other rp blogs (in multiple fandoms), so if I don’t reply right away, chances are I am logged in to one of them. I swear I am not ignoring you. Promise.

If it’s been a week or more, feel free to poke me. That way we know it’s just me being slow and not tumblr eating notices.

MUSE PORTRAYALS

When I first brought Kristin over from LiveJournal, she was housed on her own blog -- as were all the others. Recently, however, I've made to decision to move them all here.

While most of my headcanons concerning "North Pole Workings" are taken from the Santa Clause series, along with Prep and Landing, I really consider these muses an amalgamation of many sources. Most of which have their own verses.

While my default verses for Anna, Noelle, Kris, and Mrs. Claus deal with there just being four Claus siblings, I am most definitely open to rping with others. Bring to me ALL the Claus children!

Also, please do not take anything my babies say IC personally.

SHIPPING

This blog will be multi-verse and multi-ship.

There are, however, a few exceptions to this. The most notable being Mrs. Claus & Anna. Mrs. Claus is single ship with her husband, obvs. As is Anna. She loves Mark and Mark only.

Noelle also has an OTP and that is her and Adam. However, until he puts a ring on it, I may allow a separate verse or two for others ships.

TRIGGERS/NSFW

This blog may contain triggering material. All posts containing such material will be tagged appropriately with anything explicit being placed behind a read more.

ANON HATE

Will not be tolerated. Pure and simple.

[moddymoon]

next you'll say it's racist to oppose slavery because it is a predominantly African trade.

Really? You think that? I guess that you're good at thinking whatever supports your narrative is true, whether there's evidence for it, or not. Because you are quite good at fabricating evidence for your narrative.

> The unlawful use of force, or violence, against either people, or property, to intimidate or coerce a civilian population, or government in furtherance of political or social objectives.

And how exactly does this meet this criteria? What are they doing that meets the criteria of:

to intimidate or coerce a civilian population, or government in furtherance of political or social objectives.

Because I don't see anything you could legitimately *claim* is "intimidate." But I'm *sure* you can justify your rules lawyering here.

And... Since you state that January 6th and Charlottesville wasn't, how *isn't* it, because it *strictly* fits this definition.

As I said before, in the thread you so ignored,

Sorry, I didn't "so ignore" it... I made it *very* clear that I looked at it, and addressed it. You've *not* addressed anything I've said, besides claiming I'm making false statements lacking any evidence on your part.

But hey... You can ignore what I've said... Claim I'm ignoring you. Thus fabricating evidence for your narrative.

calls for intifada is a call for insurrection,

Not actually. It *might* be, but definitionally, it isn't defined as specifically that, which you actually are great at... Finding definitions.

is an Arabic word for a rebellion or uprising,

That isn't "a call for insurrection," is it? I mean... Like since you like definitions so much... Tell me... Does that definition say, "intifada is a call for insurrection?" Because I'm having trouble parsing that literal meaning there. But sure you probably can read it yourself.

River to the Sea is a call to Genocide,

Wow... I don't see, "From the River to the Sea, we will commit Genocide," as the call. But I guess that really must be there, and you *must* have a source for it. Because anyone argues against you, you *claim* to have a source that proves that they are "literally" wrong.

Of course, your definition pushing... Oddly, the thing you're claiming is something... You can't provide *evidence* that it even *is*.

This is not a broad definition of what terrorism is, it is THE definition, you sanctimonious tit.

I said it was a *broad* definition. I didn't say it wasn't the definition. A definition isn't broad because it isn't "the" definition. A definition is broad, because it can be applied to a lot of different things.

I'm not sure how this fits the definition:

Making a show of being morally better than others, especially hypocritically pious.

I don't see myself calling something a broad definition as "making a show of being morally better" in any respect. I don't see that it is hypocritical in any respect. I don't see it as pious in any respect.

But hey... You clearly know better what reality is than I do, and understand definitions better than I do.

waving a foreign flag, let alone a terrorist flag, in the capital of the Nation is also treason.

Let's see... Treason:

The betrayal of allegiance toward one's own country, especially by committing hostile acts against it or aiding its enemies in committing such acts.

How so? Wow... I'm clearly not understanding your argument very well. You're going to have to make it clearer for me.

Also Palestine isn't real,

You know... That's weird. Because if it's not real... Then what is?

Palestine, officially the State of Palestine, is a country in the southern Levant region of West Asia, encompassing the Israeli-occupied West Bank and Gaza Strip, within the larger historic Palestine region.

Not real? I guess... clearly reality is not something I understand...

lost again and again against Israel when they had tried to Genocide them.

I'm glad you understand that Israel is committing genocide. That is very big of you. Though it doesn't fit well with your narrative.

A land mind you, that is governed not by the legitimate government that current sits in exile, but a Terrorist group, one which you and the above terrorists defend.

I'm glad that you also understand that Israel is a terrorist group. They have occupied land illegitimately, committing colonial atrocities. And I love your welcoming of this truth.

Pro-Jordanian Squatters near Congress toppled US flags, burning and replacing them with terrorist flags, vandalizing US monuments with messages such as; “Hamas”, and “Abolish the USA” among others.

These are not protesters, these are terrorists, at least in my books, and should be treated as such.

[hiding-in-my-blanket-fort]

Headcanons for Eddie x fem!Reader who is a shy, anxious smol bean

You spend most of your time ignoring the world with your headphones on and your music cranked up, lost in your own thoughts.

Eddie takes off into the woods one day with lunch in hand, and he stumbles on you, grooving to your own music.

You're oblivious to everything else around you and it's adorable and he definitely develops a little crush on the spot.

When you realize you're being watched, you kinda freak out a little.

But Eddie just plops down beside you, offers you some fries from his lunch, and asks what you're listening to.

From that point on, Eddie has pretty much adopted you.

When he takes the Hellfire Club to the drive-in during the summer to see some monster flick, he invites you along.

You didn't realize he had also invited other people. So when you showed up and noticed you weren't alone, you panicked a bit and tried to bail.

Eddie wouldn't let you. He slung an arm around your shoulders.

"There you are! Come on, I've got a few shitheads I want you to meet."

The Hellfire Club is Not Impressed with you. While Eddie is outgoing and animated, you're a quiet little thing who barely says two words together.

Mike has no qualms about making his doubts about you known.

"I don't get it. What does he see in her? She doesn't even talk."

When you try to drift away to be alone, Eddie doesn't let you disappear, bringing snacks with him, ripping into a twizzler and delivering the entire box of jujubees he snagged from the Club before they could eat it all.

You try to wave him off. "Go be with your friends."

But he just settles in beside you, ankles crossed, hands behind his head.

"If you want to get rid of me, you'll have to try harder than that."

He pesters you in a friendly way to put you at ease. Trailing a blade of grass over your arm or tickling your ear. Acting like a total ham bone to get you to laugh.

When you do finally laugh, oh my GOD, Eddie has the biggest heart eyes for you.

"See?" he says, brushing two knuckles playfully against your cheek. "I knew there was a smile in there somewhere."

His touch startles you and leaves a burning sensation against your skin. You touch your cheek and look away.

Eddie hates to see you going back in your shell. He rolls over onto his elbow, two fingers touching your arm very lightly.

"Shit. I didn't mean to make it weird. Sorry."

When you look back at him, Eddie is staring at you with the most earnest, genuine, heartfelt look of apology.

There are vague gagging sounds coming from the direction of the Hellfire Club a few feet away as they watch the two of you.

Eddie chucks jujubees at them.

There's a shift between you and Eddie after that. There's this heavy want hanging over your heads but you're too shy to act on it and Eddie doesn't want to screw things up with you.

When the two of you end up at the arcade on Saturday night, the Hellfire Club is nowhere in sight. You stay out super late and get milkshakes as Eddie walks you home.

He's very animatedly telling you a story that requires full-body-motion and you are IN STITCHES because you're laughing so hard.

When Eddie is finally done, he falls into step beside you again. And his little finger hooks around yours.

You stop dead in your tracks, your milkshake straw caught between your teeth as you stare at him, wide-eyed.

Eddie shifts a little, nervous, scrubbing the back of his neck.

"Jesus, say something. Anything. You're killin' me here."

But your face is flaming hot and your stomach is churning and you're rooted to the spot.

Eddie steps closer, threading his fingers through yours, fully taking your hand.

"Didn't think anyone could take me down," he says. "But every time I see you laugh, or when you listen to music, or you're caught up in your own head...I think I fall a little more in love with you."

Yeah...you're not really breathing anymore.

When Eddie tips your chin up with one finger, his thumb brushing your lower lip, you drop the last of your milkshake and you clutch at his shirt, tugging him closer.

He lets out a surprised little laugh at your boldness but you can tell by the way he can't take his eyes off of you that he LOVES you for it.

By the time the warmth of his mouth meets yours, you gasp against his lips and you can feel him smile with a contented little hum.

Good luck being shy around this boy. Eddie will hype you up to anyone and everyone within hearing range.

Whenever you feel anxious, Eddie holds your hand with a firm grip.

If the anxiety is really bad, he'll guide your arms around him so you can hold onto him.

If you wake up in the middle of the night overwhelmed with anxiety, Eddie will talk you through it over the phone, no matter how long it takes.

If he's there with you, he'll rub your back in soothing circles and talk about the most stupidest shit in an effort to get your mind onto other things.

Because Eddie is busting-his-buttons proud of you, he will want to show you off to everyone. So you will have to explain that you need some time alone occasionally to recharge.

His favorite thing is to call you "my girl."

"Can't have lunch with you guys today, I'm spending time with my girl. Haven't seen her lately because of you needy little warts."

"How's my girl?" murmured against your hair as you snuggle into his chest after a long day.

Eddie makes you a mixtape of his favorite music so you can have something to listen to that reminds you of him when you're not together. You totally wear that thing out because you've played it over and over so many times.

Whenever the doubts creep in - why is he with me? he deserves someone better than me, etc. - Eddie won't register it at first. His brain is somewhere else and you can really be so subtle sometimes.

And then he will see you drowning in your own mind. It baffles him because he's always thought YOU are too good for HIM.

Cupping your face in his hands, looking you in the eye. It's the only time that you've ever seen him so dead serious.

"Whoa, hey, look at me. I love you, okay?"

"But - "

"No. Stop. I love you so fucking much and if you don't feel that, then you tell me and I'll find a way to show you, all right?"

He's not joking this time, you can see it written all over his face.

You touch his lips gently and he curls his fingers around your hand, pressing a kiss into your palm.

"I love you, too," you whisper.

Eddie's lips curl up and his eyes get really bright as he scoops you into a crushing hug, peppering your face with kisses.

"Say it again," he mumbles against your skin, mid-kiss.

"I love you," you reply, laughing.

"Again. Louder."

But you don't get a chance to repeat yourself because he's kissing you and there is no room for doubt anymore that this boy is completely and utterly head over heels for you.

Writing tag

[faroreswinds]

I hope you see this as a positive ask but I remember you saying you were surprised at mdimileth being popular, and I’m saying this mostly from a JPN perspective…but it really is? And I’m surprised to see others are surprised about it. The common thread between most shippers is that even though they’re both powerful men, one is highly repressed, awkward, but very noble and kind and also very tortured and sad, and the other man is awkward but quiet, repressed but in a different way, and unsure of how to act. It’s very different from what the developers intended I think! We like that they both learn how to act together and how to find their footing. They come together to help the land and fight the empire. One is the Ashen Demon who finds his heart after he meets people he comes to cherish and protect, the other the One Eyed Demon who finds his heart after he almost lost it to despair. A lot of us are also Blue Lions fans so I don’t know where this accusation comes from that says we exclude the rest of the lions for Byleth (my second pair is sylvix and my third is Mercedes with Dedue).

I had to look up English fan dictionaries for this but it’s also because one is big but kind but also repressed and he can tame a man who was scary and feared for being a demon but if you think about it, he’s actually submissive and breedable and almost like a twink. You can call me a fujoshi, but apparently that’s a bad word here? I’m not sure. I think another way to describe what we like is if you take Beauty and the Beast but apply it straight and reversed to both men at the same time. I’m sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself! I hope this explains our tastes well enough!

I hope you see this as a positive ask but I remember you saying you were surprised at mdimileth being popular, and I’m saying this mostly from a JPN perspective…but it really is?

I can't speak for others but... It sort of is to me. It's not a surprise that the ship exists, but I guess I'm surprised it's popular? Most shipping I've seen with Dimitri is with Femyleth since that's actually possible in the game, and Dimitri's other popular male ships are just with others, like Felix. I guess I always felt that the Male Byleth ship is simply just lost in the wave of others ships, especially since it's not possible to obtain. Say what you will about Dimitri's ending with Felix, it's still a possible ending one can achieve, while if you play with Manyleth then you are locked out with any ending with Dimitri entirely.

Don't get me wrong- I love Dimitri with Manyleth. I view Dimitri as a queer man, even if it's not intentional. I am not someone who just stamps queer onto any character I like either, I need either text or subtext to back this up. Without it, it just feels like I'm lying to myself. And since I feel Dimitri has adequate subtext, I feel that he should have been a male option for Manyleth and it doesn't make much sense that he isn't. Dimitri is pretty cute with Byleth period, and treats Byleth the same no matter what gender you choose. It would be odd to me that it only becomes romantic if it's a woman he talks to, when he's literally saying the exact same thing to the male one as well.

You can call me a fujoshi, but apparently that’s a bad word here?

I'm not sure where "here" is. Japan? Western fandoms? Well, in the West, it's not really a negative word. But I think most fujoshi's keep their tastes close to their chests. There is definitely a stigma against them, that they fetishize men and are unable to view male friendships without instantly shipping them. Which is so funny to me personally- I am asexual, but I love romantic stories about two men. I don't even care about the sex, I find something appealing about a two men being vulnerable to each other in a way that my culture is only recently opening itself up to.

I also find it funny because literally just the other day, I was chatting with a friend of mine and made a joke that Durin and Elrond from that terrible Rings of Power show seem more like an old married couple than the actual romantic pairings in the show at the moment. I don't actually ship them and honestly there isn't much subtext there, it's just the writing is so bad that they are the rare-pair actual interesting group of characters. My much older friend, who is NOT a fujoshi in any capacity at all, then made a comment how Sam and Frodo should have just kissed. She's clearly not fetishizing them at all, and is 100% capable of viewing male friendships as just friendships. Yet, she felt that Sam and Frodo were maybe a little more than friends, if you catch my meaning.

Sometimes, a chemistry is there, whether the writers intended it or not.

Anyways, point is- While I don't think fujoshi's are viewed negatively (especially since the West has been more and more open to queer relationships), it's still a private thing unless done over a blog where you can be faceless. That's my own experience though. Most of my friends in rl don't know I like mlm ships, save for two friends who are the same way. But in this regard, I tend to live in a bubble, so maybe someone else could educate me if I'm wrong.

There are definitely spaces where fujoshi are made fun of and ridiculed (like 4chan) but I don't even think most Western fans even know the term. It's becoming pretty common place to have queer ships just in general, especially in fandom spaces...

I’m sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself! I hope this explains our tastes well enough!

Don't apologize! My tastes are not much different than yours and I get the appeal.

It's just that since Manlyeth/Dimitri is not possible, I just figured it wasn't popular in Japan all that much. I was sure it had a following, but not a HUGE following, if you get my meaning. Especially since Femyleth seems disproportionally more popular just... in general.

[jennifersminds]

hey libra! (it's libra right??) i already loved your elejah abortion fic but now that i've watched s4 and have context of the whole Cure nonsense that everyone was fighting over... like it's an even better fic now you did such a good job <3

if i didn't know better and expected anything from the vd writers i'd actually have thought the cure was just a metaphor for abortion and elena & rebekah's struggles was the metaphor for abortion rights lol. either way s4 is actually so chillingly relevant to 2022 society because it was literally so many episodes of just women being constantly stripped of agency and denied a choice by male characters :/ like at least elijah's motivations were pure even tho i disliked that he got to make the decision for a grown woman and "test" her... and klaus would have been genuinely inconvenienced by silas's manipulation and abuse if rebekah had been given the cure so i guess that's like, semi okay? (but also he was always selfish and mean when it came to rebekah regardless of whether he experienced harm to his well being or not)... and the salvatores were just awful lol like that torture ep made me so uncomfortable especially how elena seemed fine after having just experienced hours of abuse from her exboyfriends

anyways sorry for word vomiting but i love your writing and keep up the good work!

I adore word vomit thank you, allow me to spew my own lmao

(my names Charlotte btw, libra's my star sign but it was the first thing in my bio for ages so it's an easy mistake to make x)

My animosity towards the cure is unmatched, not just because I hate it as a concept and everything it turned the characters into but also because, like that fuckin little AI mf from t100 it refused to exit the show with any grace.

I'm currently working on storyboarding more of what did you bury? (my love letter to no humanity Elena + American Gothic) and there’s just so much wrong with s4 it’s honestly hard to know where to begin. The torture episode is horrifying for so many reasons but it also provides one of the most interesting and heartbreaking looks into Elena’s psych because it lets us actually see her rage at the Salvatore’s and honestly might be the last sighting of in- character Elena Gilbert we ever get.   

Like people can disagree if they want but as far as I’m concerned anything an emotionless vampire says is the truth (at least their truth) they have no humanity, no care and no reason to lie. This is especially true for Elena in the torture ep, and it’s awful. 

Plus what it reveals for the salv bros, both of them use this torture as an outlet for the frustration Elena’s caused them since she was forced- by them- to turn off her humanity (I mean, we been knew they were abusive but this is definitely the most outright moment). Also like- Caroline, Bonnie, Matt are just... fine with this. Like yeah Caroline leaves because she doesn’t wanna hear it but no one makes any move to stop it or question if this is really the way to go. (Bonnie get’s a pass here bc she’s being mind controlled and Elena ripped her throat open but- everyone else...)

The actual scene of her turning it back in is genuinely the most upsetting in the show to me. It’s like every subtle manipulation and mistreatment from the first four seasons turned up to 11 and its disgusting. Just seeing her, this fuckin eighteen year old girl that has lost everything, lose the last remaining thread to her childhood, to her life before the salvatores arrived. And the way she just shatters while they watch- this moment that’s horrifying and awful and they won’t ever let her go and she knows this and it means nothing to them. It’s just a tactic, something she’ll get over because she has no choice but too.

I hate it. (this hate being what made me write plastic crown in the first place lmao)

But yeah the whole things gross and this didn’t really build off your point even though I completely agree. 

As for the Elijah/Rebekah/Klaus aspect, I do find the test situation to be more about Elijah insuring Rebekah is actually prepared for what taking the cure would mean. Still a bit icky and codependent but it’s the Mikaelsons so I don’t expect much else. I do love the energy of 

Klaus: I’m being tormented !! Elijah: Sounds like a you problem bestie, I need to pose and go daydream of making out with emotionless doppelgängers ttyl xx

like yess king, give us (the plot) nothing !

[nextinline-if]

hiiii <3

i played the demo just now, and i gotta say i loved it! i was so pleasantly surprised to see separate choices for gender and pronouns in character customisation - it's something I sadly don't see that often even in very inclusive IFs and it's also something that's making my whole experience a fair bit more comfortable. i identify as nb but i prefer she/her pronouns, even if pretty much any and every pronouns are ok for me - so i really wanted to say i appreciate that little detail!

i also liked the harbinger's oath - it's very cool how it stresses the importance of leadership and making a way when there is none, and not just, you know, staying faithful and loyal and stuff. the overall style, fashion and atmosphere are all very nice, the mix of ancient greek and victorian and original ideas is both familiar and new so it's hard to get bored!

oh, i loved the gods too. there isn't so many that either the author or the reader can get lost trying to untangle the threads of mythology, and you don't risk any of them being forgotten or becoming less prominent - it's nice! i loved the myths we've seen, the twins are charming! i thought I'd like to follow aurora since i usually go for sun aesthetic, but in this case i didn't really vibe with her. maybe it's because the 2 myths were mostly about euribia or at least her side of the story, so i just don't have enough info. so, here's hoping for some more mythology lessons in the future! ah, i also liked that fertility and love and marriage belong to different gods domains.

james and anna are dears, gotta tease them to marriage and (hopefully not) back :3

the ROs are... prominent, i guess? at this point i don't feel like the pc knows enough about them to see them for what they are, and i mostly used what i read from your blog to choose between them and orient myself. tbh I didn't quite like most of the flirting options (though it can be the case that I'm just picky lmao, don't take it to heart). i think i liked what you did with constantine - that some options aren't marked as flirting or anything but... they get a reaction from him, and in return the pc also reacts somehow. dialogues with him also feel less "cheap" - unlike some of the scenes where the so called flirting is just ogling or blushing and tripping over your words because of someone calling you lovely or something. constantine's scene also have this stuff but... to less extant? i think? i know it's some kind of imaginary world, but it's still hard for me to comprehend how a literal royal, a year before becoming the monarch, minutes after thinking "everyone is judging me i must be perfect" now goes around and makes a fool of themselves... but i still want to flirt! ugh! such dilemma! i loved margaret's first flirting option though - the one where pc asks anna to bring her another glass, now that was fun.

the "cold" options of dealing with f. were very nice too, i really enjoyed the balcony scene in the prologue!

anyway, sorry for ranting, and thank you for sharing the demo with us! wish you the smoothest progress and good inspiration and much free time to write! good luck 🍀💙

i was so pleasantly surprised to see separate choices for gender and pronouns in character customisation - it's something I sadly don't see that often even in very inclusive IFs and it's also something that's making my whole experience a fair bit more comfortable.

I'm so glad to hear this! I've found that it's really not much extra work on the coding side so I didn't think there was a reason not to add it.

the mix of ancient greek and victorian and original ideas is both familiar and new so it's hard to get bored!

yay! the last thing I want is for anyone to get bored playing my game aha I know it's a bit different and some people like things more traditional.

here's hoping for some more mythology lessons in the future!

there will definitely be additional myths.

the ROs are... prominent, i guess? at this point i don't feel like the pc knows enough about them to see them for what they are

The current demo is only a taste but the MC will be able to learn more as the story progresses and build friendship or romance as wanted. There are no straight "routes", as all characters have their own role to play in this story. I hope you will enjoy learning more about them. The rest of the chapters cover around a month of events each.

tbh I didn't quite like most of the flirting options (though it can be the case that I'm just picky lmao, don't take it to heart).

No worries, the flirting is something I added more shy options for because when I first released the demo, the feedback I received was that there weren't enough of those options. Also, flirting is the hardest for me to write about. But, my hope is that it will more natural and worthwhile in the rest of the game. :D

I may consider revamping the flirting that is available now but only after I get chapter 2 released.

Thanks for your feedback and thoughts! It sounds like you enjoyed it overall. I appreciate you giving it a go. I'm always open to feedback, whether I'm able to implement or change things depends but I'm eager to learn where I can improve.

Hope you have a great day!

Discord | itch.io | Ko-fi | Tag List | 1K Giveaway Rules + Entry

[chthonic-cassandra]

Recent books, fiction -

- Meryem Alaoui, Straight from the Horse's Mouth (trans. Emma Ramadan) - novel about a sex worker in contemporary Casablanca, written in rambling and irreverent first person. This was engaging at first but I lost the thread midway through when it went off in a very different direction than I expected and the relationships between the protagonist and her fellow sex workers, which were central to the first section of the book, became secondary to a plot line about the protagonist unexpectedly starring in a film. Interesting and worth reading, but not in my opinion wholly successful.

- John le Carre, Silverview - I am really not very familiar with spy fiction, but I've been very gradually exploring le Carre; this is my third, and probably not the best choice to read so early in my exploration of his work, but it was at the library and so I went for it. This is le Carre's final, posthumously published novel, and it has an interesting, circling plot structure which reminded me, peculiarly enough, of Iris Murdoch. I didn't enjoy it very much while reading it, but it's growing up on me with contemplation. I'll keep exploring, maybe come back to this when I have more context.

- J. Anderson Coats, Spindle and Dagger - a book for me!!! Someone here recommended it to me, though I can't rightly remember whether it was @amending-death or @pearlsthatwereeyes. Either way, it was a fantastic recommendation. It's basically like a slightly more conventionally written Napoli novel, all about #concubine problems (sorry, I know no one but me actually finds that joke funny).

Elen is a young woman in medieval Wales whose family home was sacked by a war band a few years before the time of the novel. She was raped, and her sisters killed; she herself has survived by convincing the leader of the war band that she has the blessing of a saint, and that keeping her close will earn him that saint's favor. The book follows Elen's efforts to make sense of her experiences and choices, especially as she sees another woman experiencing a similar fate. It's an empathetic, thoughtful, and ultimately quite gentle book, even as it deals with trauma with honesty and clarity. I liked it a great deal, and found it to be a very meaningful depiction of the struggle to find choices within captivity.

- Brit Bennett, The Vanishing Half - estranged Black twin sisters follow different paths, with one of them choosing to pass as white and the other returning to the community in which they grew up. This is not quite just "Nella Larsen's Passing without the homoeroticism" because it's a generational novel, following the two sisters' daughters as well. It had some interesting things to say about race and identity, but each of the characters is too flat for the whole to hold together as a novel, and it lacks the caustic sharpness that makes Passing so memorable. A lot of the themes also hinge on a really facile analogy between passing in a racial sense and what passing means for trans people, which I thought was insufficiently thought-through and so landed rather sourly.

- Pam C. Zhang, How Much of These Hills Is Gold - the orphaned daughters (well, it's not quite clear how one of them identifies gender-wise) of a Chinese gold prospector roam through the western U.S. This was stylistically quite interesting, but had some significant structural problems. It was also extremely bleak, but because of the structural problems it was hard to sink into that experientially and let myself react to the bleakness in the way that the narrative should have warranted. It's a debut novel; I'll definitely read more by Zhang, as the things I felt didn't work could easily be first novel issues.

- Laurel Flores Fantauzzo, My Heart Underwater - YA; Cori, a first generation Filipino-American girl is sent to stay with relatives in the Philippines after her relationship with her high school history teacher is discovered. I liked this, though I don't think it totally worked. The book is trying to walk a delicate line depicting Cori's relationship with her teacher, showing the naturalness of her crush and lack of outlets as a young lesbian, while also making it clear that her teacher's reciprocation was unacceptable. I think in general Fantauzzo does this pretty well; there are some conversations late in the book between Cori and her peers that fall just on the right side of preachy in a way that works, but there's something that feels overly sanitized about the whole thing, even as I largely appreciate the relationships between Cori and her relatives, which were believably warm and nuanced.

I see that some readers take issue with Fantauzzo's representation of the Philippines, which they found stereotyped and offensive, but I don't have enough context to assess this. This is the second YA book I've read in the past few months which involved a teenager learning things about themselves through visiting family in the Philippines, which does feel oddly specific in terms of my reading habits.

- C. L. Polk, The Midnight Bargain - fantasy of manners; a young sorceress tries to find a way to escape marriage in a version of Georgian England in which women are cut off from their magic as a condition of marriage. I felt this worked in a way that most fantasy of manners doesn't, which I am still pondering; this felt like it successfully indulged the longing for "period details + magic" which fuels most readers' interest in fantasies of manners, while not turning it all into fluff or erasing everything that was actually oppressive about the eras in question. It also had a rather pleasant romance plot line while gave the heroine's dilemmas some actual teeth. Not life-changing, but quite pleasant.

- Heather O'Neil, When We Lost Our Heads - okay. So this was a retelling of some of the events of the French Revolution but reset in 19th century Canada amongst a bunch of psychosexually entangled young women? It was really, really weird. Interesting, but weird. I don't know what O'Neil's point was, and I don't know whether or not I can recommend it.

[hunxi-after-hours]

Shen qiao has a strong and stubborn personality... I was wondering when did he realize and accept he's in love with yan wushi? Was it at the very end of the novel?

sdlfksjdfksjd oh I love Shen Qiao so much and this is part of the reason why

tracking his relationship with Yan Wushi backwards through the novel is so interesting, because here's the thing about Shen Qiao: unless you're like, literally committing a crime the first time he meets you (@Sang Jingxing @Huo Xijing), he cares about you. he cares about your continued survival and eventual success. he just wants nice things for you, because that's who Shen Qiao is, and it's not that much, is it? to want nice things to happen to other people?

anyway, so it's like, fascinating to me that Shen Qiao cares about Yan Wushi, has cared about Yan Wushi pretty much since day one despite Yan Wushi being, well, like that. Yan Wushi endlessly mocks him for it (what, have you really developed feelings for me?) but that's just who Shen Qiao is--he'll care about you if you give him the chance

but like, when did Shen Qiao fall in love with Yan Wushi, and when did he realize it? both very good questions, and perhaps not ones with definitive answers, because the relationship between these two wasn't an "eye contact, world slowing, love at first sight" kind of business, but the long, slow building of trust and understanding and mutual care. sure they had to rip out the foundations in the middle of the process and start over, but hey, yanshen get there eventually

so, when does Shen Qiao fall in love? well, I think that's an open question, right? is love what brings him back to Yan Wushi at the Panlong Conference, saving Yan Wushi's sorry corpse with just the barest thread of life in him? is love what makes Shen Qiao throw himself into danger, again and again, to protect a greatly-weakened Yan Wushi from the many jianghu people who are still out for his life?

or is it later, perhaps, when Shen Qiao returns to the foot of a mountain he once called home and, overhearing a neighboring conversation, learns that Yan Wushi has challenged Hu Lu Gu to a duel, the timing too suspicious to be anything but a calculated move to protect Shen Qiao himself? is it when Shen Qiao approaches a casually unconcerned Yan Wushi, teasing a small fawn in a familiar-unfamiliar courtyard, and asks to take his place in the duel? or is it even later, when Shen Qiao cradles Yan Wushi's body on the peak of a mountain where it all began, voice shaky with sobs as he pleads I'll do anything, if you just come back?

well, hard to say, isn't it? I don't think Shen Qiao really falls in love so much as he accidentally slides down the side of a mountain into it--inevitably, gaining momentum, not realizing that he'd already left the point of no return much farther behind. where was that point of no return? he doesn't know; perhaps it was at the foot of Half-Step Peak, where a passing Yan Wushi first picked up a battered and broken Shen Qiao and nursed him back to health, because from that moment onward, both of their lives were irrevocably changed

I've been thinking, lately, about what makes Shen Qiao's relationship to Yan Wushi different from his relationship with literally anyone else in the jianghu, and I think it's this: Yan Wushi is, lowkey, the first person to care about Shen Qiao as like. a person

(except Qi Fengge, I do stan one (1) dead mentor)

no wait, hear me out: in his first tenure as sect leader, Shen Qiao was defined more by the position he occupied (sect leader, successor, shixiong, shidi) than he was by his person. and then, as he wanders the jianghu, people care about his beauty and reputation (did you hear? he lost to Kun Ye and I heard he's now Yan Wushi's bedwarmer--) rather than the reality of his person, his skill, his merit, his virtue. and this isn't to say that Yan Wushi doesn't start there either (recall: how little rest Shen Qiao got while Yan Wushi beat the essence of the Zhuyang Ce out of his body), but Yan Wushi actually spends time with Shen Qiao. teases him, teaches him, treats him like a person, not just a sect leader, a person, not just a representation of Qi Fengge's legacy, a person

let’s not romanticize Yan Wushi’s very shitty behavior in the first fifty chapters, but let’s also recall that Shen Qiao can walk away at any time--did, in fact, walk away for a while--but crucially, Yan Wushi never tells Shen Qiao to leave, just lets Shen Qiao choose

my god. has Shen Qiao ever been so free, in his entire life?

then The Betrayal happens, then everything happens, and Shen Qiao is warier now, rightfully distrustful of Yan Wushi's every word, but oh, he never stopped caring, did he? the difference now is that he won't let this care blind him to the reality of the man before him, the difference now is that this man before him swears up and down that he loves Shen Qiao, and if Shen Qiao doesn't believe it, then he could carve this heart out of Yan Wushi's chest to take a look, but Shen Qiao's not going to fall for this twice, he knows where that leads

but the pile of evidence pointing towards the uneasy realization that Yan Wushi is, in fact, telling the truth this time continues to grow, and grow, and grow

this is all getting very long and rambling, but Shen Qiao comes to some kind of realization in the very last chapter, on the peak--curled protectively around a rapidly-cooling body, begging and bargaining back the life of the man in his arms, Shen Qiao admits that he would, in fact, do anything for Yan Wushi, so long as Yan Wushi came back, says as much to Yan Wushi's closed eyelids

is that love? it's sacrifice, it's devotion, it's grief, it's gladness--sure, let's call that love, though Shen Qiao never calls it that by name

and then we have the unrestrained comedy of the fanwai, the extras, the hijinks Yan Wushi schemes, the group effort it takes to get Shen Qiao to make the first move, and it's endearingly clumsy how clueless he is but he gets there eventually, a quick peck on the lips which is all it takes for Yan Wushi to seize the reins of this relationship again and kick it from slow-burn into high gallop

in the fanwai, Yan Wushi remarks that Shen Qiao is both stubborn and proud enough that Shen Qiao would, in fact, refuse to admit his feelings for Yan Wushi unless Yan Wushi took matters into his own hands (engineered an entire melodrama amidst a bandit skirmish, seriously), so the feelings were definitely there. it just takes Shen Qiao a few weeks, a lot of encouragement, and some questionably-applicable courting advice to act on his feelings. it takes these two chuckleheads until the literal extra chapters after the end of the story proper to get together officially, which I appreciate to no end because Meng Xishi really made them work for it and it shows

tl;dr I'd hazard that Shen Qiao realizes that he's in love in the last chapter, but accepting that's he's in love? not until after the book ends; these two literally get together post-canon

[emwritesstuff]

as the world caves in | ch. 9 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.

This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode six (finale). Thread carefully!

masterlist | AO3

notes:  thank you everyone for your patience with this chapter. I'm dropping this lil shortie so we can get the story moving. Let's go! (warnings: lil' fluff, lil' angst) (word count: 3K) nine: records

Bucky knocked on your door a few weeks later.

It was late, and you were snug in your pajamas, winding down after a long day. With your identity no longer a secret, the government was in the midst of transferring you to something more… hands-on, and definitely less diplomatic, you were assuming; so much for retirement, but you figured 30 years of it had been more time than you could’ve anticipated.

You almost didn’t hear the soft rapping on wood over Vera Lynn’s mellow singing.

When you finally opened it, you found him standing there, wearing tired eyes and a dark coat. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but I started walking and I—"

“When I said you’re welcome anytime, Bucky Barnes, I meant any time.”

A tiny fraction of a smile was offered your way, and you grasped it tight against your heart at the same time you do his hand, pulling him inside.

His fingers lingered on yours, but before you could start thinking about it he pulled away, taking a seat at the edge of your couch. “I finished it. The book.”

Bucky answered your question before you could ask it. “I just came from there. The last one– the last name.”

“Well. Are you alright?” You sat next to him, your knee knocking against his, and his gaze went from the floor, to the spot where your legs touched, and then to you. He knitted his eyebrows, seeming a little incredulous you were even asking.

“I will be.” His hands intertwined on the space between his knees, and you placed a hand ton his shoulder, getting him to look at you again.

“Yes, you will. Do you want to talk about it?”

One corner of Bucky’s lip raised up, and he shook his head. “Is that Vera Lynn?”

You smiled, turning to look at your record player as if Vera herself was sitting next to it. “It is. Takes me back, I guess.”

“It’s all we’d listen to at the front.”

Nodding, you wondered for a second if Bucky remembered dancing to We’ll Meet Again the night before he was shipped off. Even if you weren’t the only girl he had danced with then, you still asked yourself if that memory was burned on his mind as it was on yours.

We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when. A short-term promise, made back then by hopeful lovers, friends, family members; you had no idea that those lyrics would prove themselves so literal when you and Bucky mouthed them at each other in the middle of a dancefloor.

You let out a breathy chuckle, standing up and beckoning him to where you kept the rest of your vinyl. “Come on. Vera’s starting to feel a little too nostalgic to me.”

Your record collection was pretty extensive, ranging from things of the good ol’ days from the special editions that were still being released nowadays. Bucky joined you on the floor, and together you started to make your way through decades eternized in discs.

“Marvin Gaye.”

You look up from The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust, finding Bucky making a face at the album he was holding. “It’s really good. Do you want to—”

“No. No more Marvin Gaye.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You don’t like him?”

“I like Marvin Gaye! Jesus. Marvin is good—Marvin’s jus’ fine,” Bucky rubbed his eyes with his thumb and middle finger, and you finally understood.

“Sam’s been preaching you the word of R&B to you too, huh?”

You giggled at the tired look he gave you and silently took Trouble Man out of his hands, stuffing it back with the rest of the 1970’s.

Years ago, Bucky would be delighted to dive headfirst in the new – your trips to countless science fairs and expositions were enough proof of that – but looking at him now, knowing him as you were starting to once again, you figured that just a dip of the toes was more than enough.

You pulled Frank Sinatra from the 1950’s section.

“I know Sinatra.”

“Do you now?”

You put the record on your player, and Vera Lynn’s longing gave way to Sinatra’s swagger and jazz.

“Do you?” Bucky teased, frowning at the most recent items in your collection. As soon as Frank’s voice filled the silence, he nodded. “Yeah, that’s nice.”

“I do know him! Or did. Met ‘im in 1962.” You plopped next to Bucky, who was shaking his head. “What?”

“Show off.”

“No, just been around. Met people on the way. And, you asked.” Your smirk grew into a grin as Bucky mouthed your words back at you. Then his face fell for a second, and your amusement was quickly replaced by worry. “What is it?”

“Nothing, I guess – I guess I just missed a lot.” The same way one of the corners of his lips tug on his cheek again in his attempt of a smile, melancholy tugs at your heartstrings. “I missed out on everything. And I missed out on you.”

Bucky’s head was low as he spoke and you could see the tremble of his hands, even though he clutched one of your records tightly. Nina Simone, 1960’s.

“M’not going anywhere, you know.”

“You still lived an entire lifetime—”

“I did, yes, thank you for constantly reminding me that I’m over 100 years old.” You shook your head at him, sighing softly when he chuckled.

You couldn’t blame him, for clinging to every bit of past he’d missed while he was in HYDRA’s clutches – you knew that was inevitable, but you wished that such sorrow wasn’t so related to you.

“What are you doin’?” He asked as you summoned a small stool from the side of your shelf and stepped on it.

“I want to show you somethin’.” The thing you were looking for was stored at the very top: a heavy, brown leather suitcase that almost made you lose your balance when you pulled it from the spot it had been sitting in for—honestly, years, many of them.

The contents of the suitcase rattled as you climbed down and sat next to Bucky again. Sinatra still playing, telling his lover I've got you under my skin, I've got you, deep in the heart of me;

You almost laughed from the truth and irony of it.

I'd tried so, not to give in

I said to myself this affair never will go so well

You unlocked the suitcase, revealing the gathered memories inside. Pictures, movie tickets, theater playbooks, receipts, trinkets. All souvenirs of the 80 something years of your life Bucky hadn’t been there to see.

Not organized in the slightest, the keepsakes of your life were tossed together and out of order just as in your memory: photographs of you in uniform, and sometimes in party dresses; of when you bought your house; of the few times you had pets. Posing next to famous people and other important ones whose names weren’t as well known by the world.

As you and Bucky went through each of them, you added a story or an explanation, sometimes both, to fill him in on the details of your life events. He laughed at some, frowned at a lot, stared at you intently for all of them.

“Is this Berlin?”

You hummed, nodding. “1989. That party was great.”

“Party?” Bucky knitted his eyebrows in surprise.

“The city was unified, the wall was being taken down, and everyone was celebrating. I’ve never seen that many bottles of vodka in one place.” You laughed, taking a good look at yourself in the picture.

The 80’s were definitely not your best decade, looks wise. You had tried a perm the year before, and the poodle look was only then starting to dial down. The beginnings of a bruise were starting to creep on your left eye, from the mission you had completed just a few hours before.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been that drunk.”

Bucky’s surprise intensified, his eyes wide. “We can’t get drunk.”

“Yes we can.”

“No, no we can’t.”

“We can, in fact. It’s all a matter of quantity and, well, speed.” You giggled as Bucky’s mouth gaped more.

“And the hangover?”

“Horrible. Like getting shot on the forehead. Comes quickly, too.”

He grimaced, and with one last look – certainly to register your peculiar appearance on his mind – gently put the picture back inside the suitcase. A stack of papers seemed to call out to him and he picked it up, releasing them from the band that held them together carefully.

Postcards of the places you’ve been: a small note to James Barnes and Steve Rogers on the back of each one.

Bucky’s voice faltered. He let out an anguished little sound, probably something that was supposed to be an Oh, or a What, but had no strength to crawl up his throat.

You brought your knees to your chest as you waited for him.

“You—you wrote to us?”

“I did. You can keep those, they’re addressed to you.”

After all this time, you could barely remember the words you wrote in those postcards; all you knew was that some had longer messages, others a simple Wish you were here.

“After we met in Baltimore, I thought that— that you’d have moved on from us.”

From me.

As if that was possible.

“Well, I stopped writing by 2003, give or take. But really,” You sighed. “It’s hard to forget someone when you’ve always been expecting them to come back to you.”

Bucky flipped the postcard from Rome, read the writing and smiled wistfully at it. “And, I did.”

“You did. And staying away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but—”

“But you’re annoyingly stubborn.” His jaw tightened, then relaxed when he smirked. “I mean, I get it – If the roles were reversed, I’d leave you rebuild your life without me like a self-sacrificing idiot too.”

Alright. That was fair.

Shaking your head, you watched as he slipped the postcards in his pocket, an amused expression on his face.

“That was… a big mistake. Something a self-sacrificing idiot would do,” You screwed your eyes shut in shame, opening them when Bucky chuckled. “but now, I’m right here. And so are you.”

His stubble scratched the soft skin of your palm when you reached for him, and you continued. “We’re a little out of place in this century, that much is true, but if I’m being honest… I’m getting tired of yearning for the past, Buck.”

Good old times – sometimes really good, sometimes bad, every one of them old – tucked away in your heart like your records were tucked in neatly in their shelf, organized by year. As you went through the decades, your enhanced body eternizing you like marble, your heart seemingly stayed at that army camp overseas. Or maybe Sergeant Bucky Barnes had taken it with him, only for them to be frozen together, leaving you with an empty hole in your chest.

You lived your life longing for that missing piece, the one with blue eyes and the dashing smile and the skilled feet.

The one that in many other stories was the one that got away, the one who now believed he was somebody else, but had brought your heart back with him all the same.

The very heart that nearly leapt out of your chest when Bucky rested his forehead against yours.

You’ve never been this close – there isn’t an ounce of past in the gesture. His eyes being tightly closed kept him from seeing the surprise on your eyes and then how they fell to his lips for a millisecond. Then, those lips brushed against yours in a featherlike touch.

I would sacrifice anything, come what might

For the sake of having you near

He pried himself off you when you exhaled, as if your very breath had electrocuted him.

“M’sorry. I—I didn’t—” He said as you stared at the back of his neck, and the shock gives way to disappointment.

I didn’t mean to. Or maybe: I didn’t want to.

“That’s—it’s okay.” You clapped your hands on your knees, still feeling the prickle of his facial hair on them, and got up to change the music.

There was no doubt Bucky was touch starved, and that he probably craved the closeness that comes with a lover. He sought that for a fleeting second in Sam’s sister, and now in you. No point in dwelling on what it might have meant.

Right?

Looking at Bucky, his expression was overcast, furrowed eyebrows as he watched you from his spot on the floor. You offered him a gentle smile, and the crease on his forehead eased up slightly.

Right.

Don't you know little fool, you never can win

The record player made a scratching sound as you replaced Frank Sinatra with your go-to jazz compilation. Instrumental.

No lyrics.

There was one thing you’ve always been good at, regarding the infatuation with Bucky Barnes that has taken over your heart for almost a century now: locking the feelings away and stepping into the shoes of the best friend.

Besides, you’ve said it yourself: no more yearning for the past. Hopefully you and Bucky would be able to do that soon enough.

At that moment, however, you needed to feel the burn of whiskey down your throat and pretend it’ll heal the calcinating rejection spreading through your chest.

The guilt you found in Bucky’s eyes as he watched you sweep around your hardwood floors made you pour a glass for him.

He took it gratefully, frowning when you bottomed the whole thing up.

“There’s a lot in here.” He tapped the edge of the suitcase, skillfully steering the conversation in the direction of the more palatable, calm territory it was in before.

The sight of your autobiographical collection made you smile.

“An entire lifetime,” You said, fishing your dog tags from the bottom. “I suppose that’s where it started. Or at least, where thisstarted.”

Bucky took them reverentially, running his thumb over the imprint of your name and numbers.

He reached for his neck, producing from under his Henley the same type of metal chain he was holding in his hands. The fact that he still wore his like that sent a sharp blow to your lungs, almost knocking the air out of you.

His face softened, a smile so beautiful spreading across his lips, so much that your chest clenched in protest because it was simply not fair, how he still had you entirely.

He deposited both of your dog tags in your hands, and that’s when you saw it, and remembered it.

“Won’t we get in trouble for this?”

“Do you care?”

“Well…No.” You sighed, already resigned. And a little excited.

Bucky knew you well: it had been too long of being a good little soldier when all you were used to was the rush of being a hellion.

“And that is why, sugar, that I’m doing this with you, and not with Steve.”

The words made your heart soar, but you were sure to recapture it before it could fly away too high, still too attached to the sensation of the take-off to clip its wings.

You liked flying.

“And because Steve hasn’t been successful in his enlisting efforts. Yet.”

Bucky looked at you from behind his eyebrows, a reprimand hiding in his eyes, but he decided to shove his uniform hat on your head instead. You grumbled, calling him a jerk under your breath.

It was the night before Bucky was drafted to England. He looked handsome in his uniform, a shining, polished star, brighter than the sun even under the dim streetlight you two stood under.

After bringing his and Steve’s dates home (yours was lost to another boxing match along the way – not that you were crying about that) Bucky had decided he was going to stay up all night, because, in his words, he could sleep when the war was over. Or, more realistically, in the ship on the way to England.

So there you two were, illuminated by street lamps and moonlight, visiting the façades and front windows of your favorite places in Brooklyn like drifters in the night.

Bucky still concentrated on his task, his shoulder hunched slightly to block your sight.

“Let me see! Bucky!”

“ ’Sposed to be a surprise! I’m almost done.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “It’s not like I haven’t seen ‘em before.”

“You gotta be more patient. Here.”

He dropped your dog tags on your hand. You displayed the small steel plates on your palm, scanning your eyes over the two. One of them, of course, had your name, number, blood type, next of kin – an aunt you’ve never met – and address.

The other had Bucky’s.

James B Barnes. 32557038.

He slipped his own chain over his head, the plate with your name clinking against his.

You brought the tips of your fingers to your lips, feeling a smile begin to form onto them.

“I forgot we did this. I haven’t looked at these in so long.”

You had stopped wearing your dog tags the day the war had ended – Bucky was gone then, Steve too, and the weight of his dog tags slamming against your chest was too much to bear – your heart was already heavy with its own engraving of their memories.

“Steve had a lecture prepared when he gave mine back.” Bucky chuckled when you looked up at him, incredulous.

You shook your head, half exasperated and half amused. “Good grief, Steve.”

“Y’know how he is. Was,” He trailed, lips twitching as they formed a thin line.

You reached for him, your hand hovering in the space between you for a second before Bucky took it, lacing your fingers. Scooting closer, you let your cheek rest on his shoulder.

“He’d be glad we’re reunited.” You said, raising your head to peek at him and the newfound upwards curl of his lip. “And mortified we’re still bickering.”

Bucky smiled and squeezed your hand. “Old people. Old habits.”

Laughter bubbled out of your chest, and you realized a few things.

In that moment, it didn’t matter – the heartache, the unrequited side of your love. It was just a fact, a fact of life, of your life, that you a lot of the times loved him as more than your best friend. You loved him. And that was the core of it, the most important fact.

And you knew he loved you – you had each other – in this big, ever-changing, modern world, you had Bucky and Bucky had you.

You sat in comfortable, familiar silence until your eyelids grew heavy and you felt yourself drifting in and out of consciousness.

“You dozin’ on me, sugar?”

“It’s been a long day.” You said with your eyes still closed, feeling him chuckle beside you.

“Tell me about it. I can go—”

“You know damn well you should stay.” You patted his arm and hoisted yourself up from the floor. “I’ll get the pull-up ready for you.”

As you sauntered towards the office, ignoring his pleads and protests that he’s got it, he doesn’t need sheets or anything, you put your dog tags back on.

They jingled lightly against your heart.

Maybe you didn’t have to leave all of the past behind to start building something good and new, after all.

[lilacerull0]

hey! I'm the same anon of the soul question. I'm not trying to convince you or anything (and I know that if I start by saying this it looks like I am actually trying to do it but please, believe me, I don't! I'm just curious) but across the years there were many things that didn't have proof of their existence but still did exist. and now we have proof of it because we studied them, we researched.

sooo basically this turned the discussion from the soul topic to the limits of our knowledge one but... what I mean is. everything can be studied, I think that not setting up limits to knowledge is what distinguishes a genius from the rest. I am not saying this to say that your reason doesn't make sense of something like that, btw!! I just think that everything could be the topic of studying. and your blog sparks so much emotion that for some reason, it's strange to know you don't believe in souls. I think I may link you to the concept of soulmates a lot, since I was quite surprised by this information ahaha

ps. also. there are many definitions of what a soul could be before even questioning if it exists or not. I think I have lost the thread of this discussion and I did this by myself in your ask box, I'm so sorry. I just talk a little too much, and I've been trying to write a sort of essay on this topic since last year, so I enjoy talking about this kind of stuff way too much, I recognize it. I hope it didn't bother you!!

Oh I'm not bothered at all, this is what my blog is for!!!!! You see that's what bugs me about souls: there are so many discussions about what a soul could be, not what it is. And above all, I can't start solving a puzzle that I won't ever be able to solve. Not entirely. I use the term soulmate as something a little bit different? I don't think things happen for a reason, I think people make them make sense and by that give them reason. I think it's all about what we do. It's that concept of soulmates being made. That's what I believe in. When two people meet they are just two people making a connection, there's no string connecting them before they decide to tie it between them. Because most of all, I believe in choice. So when I obsess over platonic soulmates excellence or "invisible stringing", what I mean is: I met you and understood you and you met me and understood me and we got here in spite of the cruelties of the world and we chose each other. It's about choice. That's what I meant when I said how I believe in souls as a metaphor. When I say soulmates, I mean companionship and understanding. I mean all these little things that make somebody similar to someone else, not because some unknown force made them that way, but because they influenced each other by sharing thoughts, ideas and experiences.

I know about the pre-existence theory, I know these things technically can be studied, but... that's the kind of studying that just couldn't satisfy me as a person. The very idea behind souls is that they're non-material. What substance are they made of then? If they exist they have to be made of something. Simple negation of a statement, in this case "souls don't exist", isn't enlightening. It's just a statement. There isn't any weight to it. Believing in souls would require me to believe that there's mental activity that's entirely disconnected from the brain which is something I'm willing to believe in only if there's a (even a mere!) possibility of it being true. (trust me, if I had even a little something to work with here, I'd be on it, obsessing and travelling to soul-sights) It's too big of a thing just to be simply accepted without any kind of specific element, any specific knowledge, just a tiny little clue from an external source. I'm willing to learn, I'm just not willing to accept something as the truth without any confirmation or a clue as to why it should be true. "I think not setting up limits to the knowledge is what separates genius from the rest" I agree! But isn't the very concept of souls something that's supposed to be believed in, not studied or ever fully understood? A soul shouldn't be confused with the mind. Because you can believe in something that goes beyond the mind without necessarily calling it a soul. You can think there's something more to being human than just brain chemicals without believing in souls. I don't think souls are real. But do you know what I do know is real? People believing in them. That's real. And it's exactly the believing part that's the most valuable to people. Proving the nature of souls, no matter the outcome, would take the believing part away from people. And then they'd find something else to believe in without any proof. That's what I meant when I said: souls are something people made up to feel better about being human. There's no material reason for that concept to exist, no initial observation that sparked that thought. There's only people needing to believe in something bigger than they are, that there's something more to life. I think life is not as little or unimportant tho. I think life is what you make of it. I think living and being here is important. And all these interesting things waiting to be discovered and understood!!!!! Right here! I don't need to believe in souls, in something that's gonna outlive me and has already outlived me before I was born. Maybe it's just that it takes a certain amount of control away from me. But I genuinely think living this one life and being here just this one time and making whatever I want of that is far more meaningful.