#it’s always presented as like. a blip in their history.

[crowley1990]

Spain hates its Islamic history it’s so weird

[bamjammy]

My Billford friends. I present you: Will Wood. This is song is them. Not up for debate, thanks and I’m correct. Analysis below. Also TBOB spoilers probably

This is a lyric by lyric analysis about why this song is them. Most of (if not all of the song) is Bill’s perspective in my mind, Will Wood definitely captures his weird chaotic energy. Not every lyric matches. That’s ok, I’m just gonna skip those. The song is still them. Lyrics will be in quotes, analysis will be in parentheses and also a different color.

“Why do you wanna kill me?”

(I also hear this as “what are gonna do, kill me?” sometimes cause it’s a little hard to understand him. I feel like both fit a bitter/cocky Bill talking to Ford in the pyramid)

“Say you're still her, the woman you were, and you haven't turned into someone who never could love me again”

(Ok obviously Ford is not a woman, we can just ignore that part. The point of the lyric is the narrator, in this case Bill, wanting reassurance that he is still loved, I feel like this would be more subconscious on Bill’s part, but that denial is absolutely palpable during weirdmaggedon/TBOB)

“'Cause you never broke my heart, no, you fixed it, and now it works, but only enough just to suffer that hurt. Whoa-oh-oh-oh”

(Ok I fucking love this line especially in this context. This is literally their entire dynamic like, c’mon. Bill, up to the point of meeting Ford, had been manipulating people all throughout human history. It really feels like Ford is the first one he got so deeply attached too, so much so that he would want to convince him to join him in ruling over everything as an agent of chaos. Ford was captivated by Bill the moment he met him, believing him to be a higher power capable of provisioning him with what he needs. As their relationship progresses they sort of have a reversal of roles, Ford comes to despise Bill and fear him, Bill comes to be obsessed with Ford. He NEEDS him. God I love this line)

“What can I say to convince you to slip back into my arms again? I won't do you no harm again. Let me tell you that I'm sorry and that-”

(I don’t think Bill would ever say sorry out loud unless it was specifically to be manipulative, but after reading TBOB there is clear regret at losing Ford. Even if it’s not remorse you can tell he wishes he’d gone about things differently even though he refuses to admit it. Also the “slip back into my arms again” thing, again I associate with him trying to convince Ford to join him in weirdmaggedon.)

“I'm just a little bit crazy about you, Just a little bit out of my mind, Just a little insane without you”

(Bill’s always been a little insane by nature of who he is, but he goes to such extremes to get Ford to stay with him (see TBOB missing journal pages) and then STILL tries to convince him during weirdmaggedon after he’d already been rejected and despised. He makes him CRAZY. It’s kind of sad)

“Please come back and be just a little bit mine- Just a little bit mine”

(He wants him back soooooo bad it’s really just pathetic at this point)

“I never thought, and if I did, I forgot while blacked out in love”

(I don’t think Bill thinks through much of what he does to Ford in those desperate moments if at all. They’re just that- desperate. Can also be interrupted as Bill possessing Ford, when he “blacks out” and finds himself harmed or in danger, he obviously can’t remember those moments when Bill takes over. Bill interrupts this as “blacked out in love” either to justify it to himself or to convince himself Ford still loved him. I think that’s a fun interpretation)

“That what's only starting would've come to an end but now, I'm hungover and hung out to dry, and I'm giving it time”

(Time passes faster for Bill, it should feel like a blip in his life but it consumes him. The “hungover” part, see TBOB “Losing Sixer”. It’s the best page)

“Does not knowing the truth turn my words into lies? Whoa-oh-oh-oh”

(I could see him absolutely trying to play dumb in last ditch attempt to get Ford to trust him again. Fucking loser lmao)

“What can I say to convince you or do to make you agree with me?”

(Again, desperate. See all my previous allusions to the weirdmaggedon scene)

“I don't need you to be with me, Just try to remember what you'd see in me”

(I feel like this line could be a breaking point for Bill, where he’s desperately grasping at anything to make Ford continue his work, including harming, threatening him, etc. I know a lot of these lines have come back to the same thing but it’s just. The vibes, y’know? I feel like this is specifically the part where Bill tries to call Stan, which scares Ford into actually reaching out to him, Bill inadvertently causing his own demise. That’s from TBOB btw. I warned you about spoilers)

(Cut the chorus since I already analyzed it)

“I'll be here singing 'til our heartbeats might slip back into that rhythm again”

(Bill waiting for the right moment to strike. The moment Ford steps out of the portal Bill sees an opportunity, he’s done biding his time. You feel me?)

“Whether it is or isn't the end, Who cares? God knows that I could use a friend!”

(Bill is living in so much denial it’s suffocating. I mean, it’s not even just Ford, it’s his whole life. He’s in denial about how people in his home dimension treated him, he’s in denial about the fact that he’s not all powerful, he’s in denial about how similar he is to humans, and he’s in denial about Ford not loving him (and also in denial about Loving Ford). There is no end because he refuses to accept it, but then tries to brush it off like he doesn’t care, because he’s in denial about caring. My boy, YIKES!!!)

Cut the rest of the song cause it’s just the chorus again but longer. Anyway yeah the point of this is Bill is a desperate freaky ex with weirdo Will Wood energy, Will Wood’s music is good and I love it and you should listen to him if you haven’t, and I’m not normal about them and their weird fucking dynamic. Enjoy and eat well my strange creatures

[girl4music]

Isn’t it interesting how even though Xena can’t remember Gabrielle or the woman she’s helped her become, she’s still a kind and soft-hearted person. Even when she can’t remember anything at all. She’s still someone who puts peace and compassion first.

Proving that she was never truly evil. She was just corrupted and twisted into being that way. It’s the same that she was in ‘When Fates Collide’ too because Caesar hadn’t betrayed her in that life yet. She was still a warrior in that alt-universe but she wasn’t ruthless or overly violent. She was kind and fair.

Not sure I’ll articulate this well. But it’s almost like her 10 year long darkness was merely just a blip in her life because she wasn’t meant to be that way in nature.

Xena might have turned good on her own but she couldn’t have possibly stayed on that path without Gabrielle’s influence and other positive influences in her life. Lao Ma. Hercules. Borias. But at the same time, she couldn’t have been persuaded to turn any way if she was truly evil. Nevertheless she had an epic life that maybe was just a little bit too exciting for her.

Xena’s heart was always compatible with Gabrielle’s because they were of one soul. Always. Past, present and future. Therefore, it makes sense to me that she changed her ways because her heart was always guiding her to until she finally met the one person who could stop her from fluctuating back and forth. That was a constant cornerstone to the truth of who she is.

So every time she lost her memory or sense of self or her history was re-written in another life or reality - that’s what seemed to have stuck. Her true nature. Which was much closer to the nature of Gabrielle than any of that 10 year long darkness that preceded her.

All it really proves is that she was never truly evil and it made her receptive to Gabrielle instead of resistant because there was no corruptive force within her yet.

That’s so interesting to me. That she did very evil things in her period of darkness but she wasn’t evil in nature. She was actually good and so she could be reached up until the point when it was far too late.

[voxofthevoid]

Posting Schedule: April & May 2024

I'm merging the months since the April anniversary project has outgrown April rather egregiously. It is funny how I said just last month that I'm cutting down my updates to four a month, and now we have eight each for these two months. But to be fair, the word count is pretty much the same because these are shorter fics (...mostly).

April:

2. Chapter 1/1 of the history book on the shelf is always repeating itself

JJK; goyuu; When Yuuji’s fifteen, Gojou Satoru dies; when Yuuji’s seventeen, Gojou Satoru is born.

6. Chapter 1/1 of (it wasn't hard to realize) love's the death of peace of mind

JJK; goyuu; When a blip in time lands sixteen-year-old Satoru in the future, he finds himself in possession of a cursed object sporting his own eyes and a grieving boy who can’t look away from those eyes.

12. Chapter 1/2 of because the negative sex was born into a bloodline

JJK; kenita; Yuuji makes reasonable assumptions about the handsome man stalking him. Kenjaku gets to enjoy the fruits of their labor.

14. Chapter 1/1 of caught the teacher giving his eyes to a student

JJK; goyuu; Megumi finds out that Gojou’s been giving Yuuji some hands-on sex education.

19. Chapter 1/1 of will we remain stuck in the throat of gods

JJK; sukuita with past!goyuu; A bad breakup isn’t a good excuse to fuck the monster rotting your soul, but Yuuji’s made worse decisions—probably.

23. Chapter 1/1 of this was something you incited, you opened up and invited

JJK; goyuu; Satoru learns why most alphas don’t fuck other alphas.

26. Chapter 1/1 of we can be anything we want to be (make shit up and live it completely)

JJK; goyuu; An offhand comment leads to Yuuji discovering the dubious joys of pet ownership.

30. Chapter 1/1 of this is the wrong story

JJK; goyuu; In a faraway forest enclosed in Brahmic barriers, there’s a boy who loves and hates the world in equal measure.

May

3. Chapter 1/1 of vulgarity (the glory and the virtue died so long ago)

JJK; goyuu; Yuuji’s hormones battle his morals while his half-naked teacher sleeps on his lap.

8. Chapter 1/1 of somebody ought to corrupt you on the dance floor and take you home

JJK; hiita; A wardrobe malfunction drastically alters the aftermath of Yuuji’s fight with Higuruma.

10. Chapter 1/1 of never seen such a pretty wicked thing

JJK; goyuu; Satoru has a late-night philosophical discussion with the King of Curses.

15. Chapter 2/2 of because the negative sex was born into a bloodline

JJK; kenita; Yuuji makes reasonable assumptions about the handsome man stalking him. Kenjaku gets to enjoy the fruits of their labor.

19. Chapter 1/1 of i'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

JJK; goyuu; Satoru’s ward is in that peculiar purgatory between puberty and presentation. He tries to help.

23. Chapter 1/1 of you're like a goddess in disguise (i'm drowning slowly in your eyes)

JJK; fem!goyuu; Yuuji finds religion in her teacher’s tits, violently.

26. Chapter 1/1 of but lover, you're the one to blame

JJK; goyuu; Yuuji acquires a doll that’s sympathetically connected to Satoru. It’s innocent until it isn’t.

31. Chapter 1/7 of i can offer you a black-lit paradise

JJK; itagofushi; Satoru plays favorites with his students in the worst way possible. Megumi suffers, while Yuuji’s oblivious—and horny.

The dates are tentative, the order isn't set in stone, and I am about to become void soup.

If anything's repeated or mismatched, ignore for now. I'll look over this again when these fic titles/dates aren't at risk of setting my eyes on fire.

[favvn]

I really am tired of how the Star Trek fandom on here (hell, on other sites, too) talks about Shatner. It is always, always some post with a qualification attached to it, "Shatner is an asshole, but--" and then it is a funny anecdote of something he's done at a convention or a post about how attractive he was. Like, okay? You hate Shatner. Shatner is such an asshole. Cool. Should we throw a party? Should we invite George Takei?

Like. I take issue with these posts because:

1. If you have to type out a qualifying statement before getting to your point, why bother posting? Are you afraid to endorse something ~problematic~ if you didn't include the "Shatner is an asshole/is a jerk/whatever" disclaimer? Does your post matter if the disclaimer isn't included?

2. Do you care about anything else that the other cast members have done or said in the past, or is Shatner the only one who is not allowed to be a human being capable of making mistakes, capable of change? Did he sign away his right to complexity and nuance by daring to pursue an acting career? Is he the only big ego in a cast of other actors with their own big egos given how charged Star Trek: TOS's production became over the years?

3. If you're upset about his Twitter posts, consider the reality: he is in his 90s. He is still attending conventions, releasing his spoken word albums, writing, raising horses, etc. Do you really think he's spending what time he has left on the bird app? Or is it not possible that someone else has been hired to manage his social media accounts? (My honest opinion is that some of his tweets are genuinely from him and some are from whoever has been hired to run his account, but, frankly, I am not going to comb through his tweets to pick out examples to prove my point, which is that Shatner is a complex of a human being as you or I. The other thing to keep in mind is: we have no way of knowing what the set up is for said hired sns manager. Did Shatner himself hire them or did someone else do it? Does Shatner read and sign off on every tweet? (highly unlikely if one considers time stamps, but again, I am not combing through those details just to reinforce my main argument that is: Bill Shatner is just as complex of a human being as you or I. You do not have to like him or agree with him, but he is hardly the asshole that exists in fandom's perception.) And so on.)

Consider also: did you read what was being said in a Shatner tweet or did you just react? I ask this given the "Kirk was not Bi" tweets:

“If Kirk were bisexual Star Trek would have never have happened. It would not have influenced Star Wars & it would be a blip in the history of the Roddenberry family. How is it you don’t understand the social constructs of the 60’s? Why did Stonewall happen in 69 if all was ok? “I am so tired of presentism & moronic people who continue to place today’s value systems on the past to judge. They cannot comprehend that the fact they have the freedom to judge is because of what brave people did in the past. Education needs a wake up call.

These claims are true. Harshly phrased, but true. A bisexual character would never made it into a finished television show in the 1960s, at a time before Stonewall, when states were only beginning to decriminalize sodomy and so forth. That would have been cut and left behind in the writer's room, long before filming or casting began. The character of James Tiberius Kirk was written to be straight for all overt intentions, especially where having a series green-lit and funded is concerned. (If you are familiar with Truman Capote's Breakfast at Tiffany's, the unnamed narrator has long been understood to be gay; Holly Golightly in the book expresses attraction to other women. In the 1961 film adaptation, the narrator is made straight and in an affair with a married woman, both to adhere to the Hays Code--he's not gay! No "perversion" to be had here!--and to take the spotlight away from Holly Golightly's profession--he is having an affair! Horrible! Pay no attention to the men coming and going to Holly's apartment or what $50 for the powder room means. Holly's attraction to women exists as a mere blip of a look to the dancer at a bar.)

Tweet from another person: You're offended by suggestions that Kirk was bisexual. You think being bisexual is wrong, bad. You most likely feel the same way about being gay. It's 2022. To to catch up or slink away, quietly. Shatner's response: Dear, no one is offended nor is anyone saying bisexuality is wrong. The theory has been rebuffed by Gene👇🏻& I didn’t portray the character that way. All the pontifical theories people publish are manifestations of their own minds Now you may go “slink away” whatever that involves

Does it sting that Shatner later cites the novelization to The Motion Picture later in another tweet as supporting evidence? Yeah, as a biased believer in The Premise and shipper of K/S or Spirk, it does. But that nuance is exactly why Roddenberry wrote the footnote the way he did: people who ship Spirk can find vindication in it. People who view the two characters as no more than coworkers and friends can also find vindication for their belief.

Of course, this does not even get into Shatner's long history with Spirk, be it interviews in the 70s or his own book. Once more, nuance, complexity, etc. Is this a case of Shatner changing his tune because Nimoy is no longer with us? Or is this the sign that these tweets are not from Shatner himself? (Even in the Bill Boggs interview, Shatner cracks a few jokes but then offers a thoughtful answer as to why fans ship the pair. It's certainly not an answer that supports the idea of K/S as lovers, but it does earnestly answer the interview question.)

Anyways, I leave you with Mind Meld (2001), if only because it is fascinating to see how Nimoy and Shatner both differ and share overlaps in how they approach acting, their characters, and so forth:

[that-one-i-think]

MCD SCIFI AU GENDER AND SEXUALITY

PART 1 - THE MAIN CREW

Aphmau - Aroace - Agender She/They. She is here for queer-platonic relationships and that is it. She is a clone of a once powerful alien species that was created at the start of the series, I am not gonna be putting her in romantic relationships cause that feels weird to me.

Garroth - Bisexual - Cisgender He/Him. He is the (not so) straight man of the crew and I wanted to make him basic. If one was to ask what he finds attractive he would say "A crew that doesn't cause so much property damage"

Laurance - Pansexual - Transgender He/They - Coming from an insect species raised in an arachnid spider village, he was always the smallest girl around until he one day found out that he was just an averaged sized spider man, even though he is a bee and not a spider. "It makes sense, shut up." - Laurance

Katelyn - Pansexual - Cisgender(?) She/Her but also Sir - Katelyn is a woman who likes people but she likes the authority that comes with masculinity in human cultures, having been raised half human. Essentially, She/Her unless it is authoritative then its Sir or Daddy. Probably closer to Demigirl tbh.

Zoey - Omnisexual - Intersex Transwoman She/They - Coming from a species of plant people who can choose what secondary sex characteristics they can have once they reach "blooming age", she chose to be a woman as that is her most self.

Travis - Omnisexual - Gender fluid He/They and sometimes She - A shapeshifting slime that exists to love and be loved! Likes to present in a rather masculine form but kinda vibes it out. Very go with the flow, or go with the viscous goo that is their body.

Dante - Mostly Straight - Cisgender He/Him - He is almost completely straight with the exception of Travis. Any gender presenting Travis too, it is the one blip on his completely straight history and he is okay with that. His sexuality can be a bit fluid when it comes to this fluid fella.

Nana - Panromantic Demisexual - Nonbinary She/They - They are here for a good and long time. They want a stable relationship with her boyfriend (Dante) and her sapphic queer-platonic lover, Zoey.

Lo - Just Queer He/Him but She/Her in Drag - Lo identifies as queer, plain and simple. He is a companion, entertainer, and drag queen so he is a lot of things and feels that simplicity in chaos is the finest.

[siryouarebeingmocked]

Someone recently claimed that the new Davies era of doctor who has no more wokism* than the show used to.

Now, maybe I've just changed in the past few decades, but from what I've heard of the 60th anniversary specials it does seem a tad more concentrated. Cherry-picking SPOILERS, sweeties.

- Donna got married offscreen. To what I can only assume is the last black cab driver in London.

- Her kid is trans. Specifically, non-binary, female presenting, says the wiki.** - In the next episode, we learn the Doctor is gay/bi when he thinks Sir Isaac Newton is hot. I'd smugly say this bit has no real relevance, but...the actual scene does carry the episode theme of accidentally changing reality. It's just the queer bit that seems tacked on. Though it does carry forward themes from 10s era. - Sir Zack himself is played by a half-Indian actor. It's not exactly hard to tell. I'm assuming they're running on Bridgerton logic. https://twitter.com/frozenaesthetic/status/1731332492282429950 - This episode is basically just Donna and the Doc exploring a weird location, and running into monsters, who happen to look like them. It would be a bottle episode, except for the large vfx budget. And yet ol' Rusty somehow managed to awkwardly wedge in an  progressive issue. - In the next episode, the villain explains how he's just exploiting the divisions that already exist in human society, including cancel culture. - no wait he's got a point. Jpg - This is ironic, given that Davies and/or his broadcasting house masters are pretty blatantly on the team that a) coined the word,  b) cancels people the most often, and c) defends the idea of Internet lynch mobs*** (***as long as they're left wing. If not, they're *ist "trolls", even if they're just complaining about the latest sacred cow.) Maybe the Davies was criticizing his own team. * Because the Toymaker was kind of racist back in the day (white dude dressed like a stereotypical Chinese dude), Davies made the new version a bit racist "as a callback to his original, problematic depiction back in 1966." - TVtropes, ref. DW Unleashed. On the other hand, the Toymaker also mocks and dresses as several other cultural archetypes. All the ones I've seen were white European ones. He just does this to everyone, apparently. - Toymaker also weaponizes the Spice Girls hit "Spice Up Your Life". No, I will not explain. Though I will note that a line about the "Yellow man in Timbuktu" was apparently drowned out in the episode. Probably for being a tad spicy. - One new UNIT character is a lady in a wheelchair. When the new Tardis - no, I will not explain - has a wheelchair ramp, she happily points it out. Which makes me wonder why the blue box would be so limited, considering it often deals with alien species. - Also, the same actress played a disabled Companion in the Big Finish audio dramas. I'm not sure why it was considered essential to do so in an entirely audio format, but there have been controversies over this sort of thing before (EG Artie on Glee, various racial voice acting controversies). - At this point, casting Ncuti Gatwa as 15 doesn't even register. Not really a blip on my radar. Black Doc? Whatevs. His sonic screwdriver has Rwandan words on it? So? I go to church with lots of Africans. Heck, I'm a black immigrant to ol' Blighty myself, just from the other side of the pond. Ncuti is, chronologically speaking, more British than I am. - Though given that he's Rwandan-Scottish, there may be some debate on the "British" part. - Wikipedia says the actor is pretty left-wing, but the actor seems good so far, so I'm willing to give him a sha-

Oh, come ON!

Maybe the original person speaking was comparing it to the Chibnall “history has always been a whitewash” era, which had a character who was a paper thin Trump satire. A tad ironic, when the whole point of bringing Davies, Tennant, and Tate back is to play on nostalgia.

*Tangent: that word was apparently voted  the most annoying words in English. Which is kind of hilarious if you know that it was originally created to self-describe certain progressives. And the "you can't even define that word!" meme was almost certainly ripped off from the right wing "what is a woman?" Meme. ** This is apparently because she's part Time Lord, through Donna. It seems a tad interesting to me that a few works featuring non binary characters happen to make them enby due to some sort of supernatural (Omniscient Reader) or sci-fi (SW Squadrons) influence which the vast majority of IRL enbies don't have. ...As far as I know.

[rinniereads123]

Series

SOME OF THESE STORIES ARE MATURE! READ THE WARNINGS AND TAGS BEFORE YOU READ!

Last updated 07/31/2024

★ - personal favorites | masterlist

The Rite - @lokisgoodgirl

As an invisible member of the wider Asgardian court, everything changes when you catch the eye of the elusive Prince Loki under unconventional circumstances. Pressured by time (and his brother) Loki is reminded he must complete a particular Rite in order to secure his place in Asgard's succession - all he needs is a partner. But adhering to the strict rules in the approach to the ceremonial Rite is more challenging than hedonistic, smugly smoldering Loki anticipated...as are his growing feelings for you.

★Does It Hurt? - @ellemj

Bucky never would've gone out of his way to help you if he knew that HYDRA was still watching his every move, if he knew that it would shift their focus to you. When you're targeted and taken, it's his fault and he'll do anything to save you. Anything.

Doll, please - @lokiswifeduh

Bucky is taken by the reader's ex-boyfriend. You go to save him, not knowing it's a trap.

★Love You Like Oxygen - @questionableratatouille00

You and Bucky’s journey through navigating sexual trauma.

★Graveyard - @wkemeup

As the unofficial healer for the Avengers, you pride yourself on the ability to mend heroes with the touch of your hand. Only, your gift comes at a heavy price — one you keep secret from your friends —and when Bucky asks you to do the impossible, they’ll discover why your gift is called a sacrifice, too. 

You Can't Leave Me - @thinkingoutlouddblog

A fight with Bucky distracts you from your mission.

Just let me go - @itsthewritergal

Y/N and Bucky are exes with a history. When Y/N is kidnapped, the Avengers come to her aid, but can she and Bucky make amends?

★your hands have made some good mistakes - @thenhewaswrongaboutme

Bucky has to spend six months locked up with a stranger. His teammates went on an international press tour and left him behind. They hired someone to supervise him, per the conditions of his pardon— a roommate, they said. A roommate?

One's Promised - @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Living a double life was not a choice when one was the daughter of Alexander Pierce. Y/N was the youngest agents of SHIELD and one of the most respected threats within Hydra’s empire. No matter her allegiance, she was feared by both. Y/N Pierce would’ve tried to escape it all… if it hadn’t been for The Winter Soldier.

Flustered - @ellemj

Bucky seems to thoroughly appreciate all women...except for you. When he finds out one of your weaknesses, he can't help but use it against you, which only makes you hate him more.

Of Kings and Beasts - @nastybuckybarnes

Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrusted to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

All the King's Men - @nastybuckybarnes

Your father always said that if it weren’t for your presentation, he’d think you were an Alpha. There’s a reason for that. Growing up in a world where Omegas are treated like garbage, you’ve fought for the respect that you have. Until you’re sold off to an old King desperate for a bride. But you will not lay down and present for your new husband. No, you will fight back.

Worthy - @xalygatorx

Worthy is a slow-burn SFW Marvelverse (films) romance between Loki and a female OC that spans the timeline of the mentioned films in the disclaimer section below. I got to connect some loose ends for myself that I noticed in the films and I hope that they're just as enjoyable for you to revisit as they were for me at the time of writing this and now, reposting it. (Fluff and angst within with a confirmed happy ending.)

Underground - @adrinktostopyourthirst

The Underground is the last way for you to survive whatever is left of the world after the Blip. Natasha introduces you to the Winter Soldier whose wing you're under until you find your way around. He's a stoic Underground fighter and you're... useless.

Missing Piece - @likeahorribledream

When Bucky first arrived to the compound, Steve was his only friend and the only person he trusted himself around. That is until Steve introduces him to you, his best friend. Bucky was fascinated by how often you and Steve would hug each other. It had been a very long time since anyone had touched him in such a loving way and it didn’t take long before Bucky found himself craving your touch, but whenever you’d get too close he would flinch as if someone had hit him. His trauma still too fresh a wound for him to be comfortable with someone touching him. Then one day, he finally fights his instincts and let you touch him. He hadn’t realized how truly touch starved he was until he feels the warmth of your skin against his. Something clicks for the both of you in that moment, you had found your missing piece. As long as you were with each other, you were home. You both tried to fool yourselves into thinking you were just friends, really close friends. Friends that needed to be together almost every minute of every day and who needed to hold each other to be able to sleep at night.

Needs and Wants - @ellemj

When you and Bucky are exposed to an unknown chemical in the field, things go from bad to worse.

Afterglow - @fictive-sl0th

After weeks of research on the super serum, you, a young talented scientist, have settled in well with the Avengers. Pepper and Nat became your best friends, Bruce your colleague, Cap a gentleman, and Bucky one to trust. Only Prince Loki who's forces to support Earth indefinitely, seems especially annoyed by you. One fateful day, when an experiment went horribly wrong, your life would change forever. Just like what you thought you knew about feelings and emotions...

Plum - @buckybabieboy (not complete)

After a bad day outside and an incident with Bucky, you catch an inexperienced!bucky pathetically humping your pillow. Your sadistic thoughts cause you to get carried away. Bucky's up to it at first, just wanting you to make him feel good. But as the night goes on he begins to realize he was in over his head.

Kingdom Fall - @nastybuckybarnes (not complete)

When an invading Kingdom forces you to flee your home, you find yourself stranded in an enemy kingdom on a farm, and the farmboy is nothing like you thought he would be. 

[nursemimosa]

a preview of the first chapter of my fic series; Cadence Melody- which intends to be a retelling of the Scarlet/Violet story through the eyes of two librarians of Naranja-Uva Academy...

A sway of teal colored hair stirred on the pillow until the head it belonged to rose, groggily sitting upright. A croaky yawn and stretch, and the girl got out of bed, hoping her heavy eyelids wouldn't give in to the temptation of just a little more sleep. It was another day at her internship, and she couldn't afford to skip a day, or even arrive late. As she rubbed her eyes and headed to the restroom of her small apartment, she sighed. "I had that dream about the dress again…"

A moderate breakfast consisting of a sweet round concha bun and mocha coffee, sweetened slightly to her tastes was prepared by the young woman. She was rummaging through her workbag, a woven handbag in a splash of multicolored stripes gifted to her by her grandmother; her abuela when she noticed something was off. Just then, through the doorway, a Raichu waddled over carrying in its rounded paws, an inhaler. There it was! It must have been in her room before her orange-furred companion found it.

The woman took the inhaler from the mouse Pokemon and put it in her bag. She pat the Raichu on the head and it began to rub its face into the palm of her hand, nuzzling. She took great care to avoid its electric cheek sacs. "Thank you Maribelle, I would have forgotten this if you hadn't found it."

A Rotom phone began to ring with dulcet chirping tones. The woman answered the phone and it floated its way up to face her, the screen widening, signaling to her that this was about to be a video call. Good thing she had already made herself tidy and presentable. The screen blipped until the face of an older man appeared on the screen. "Raine. Am I coming through the screen okay?" the man's voice beamed through the screen with echo-y sound quality. She nodded and the man took a sigh of relief. "Raine, have you been staying up late again?" Upon being asked that question, the woman faltered a bit, then chuckled accusingly. "A little bit.. I have been having the weirdest dreams lately and when I wake up from them I find that I can't sleep. So to answer your question-yes and no. I go to bed early but can't seem to fall asleep.."

Their conversation continued, and Raine Cadencia; the newest intern of Naranja-Uva Academy's library made her way to work. The trek through the city of Mesagoza was brisk, with the morning air lingering on, even as the thick fog began to evaporate away. It would usually take Raine a half hour to get to the center of the city when it was as empty and quiet as it was now. The long, arduous (to her) trek up the giant stairway to the school took the wind out of her, and she found herself wishing there could be an alternate way to get up there. She contemplated on using her inhaler, but after giving herself a rest on a bench on the school's front yard, she got back up and went inside.

Raine was to meet up with her supervisor. During the first week of her internship, she was paired up to work with an older woman, and while she was assured that her new supervisor was friendly, she still didn't know what to think of her. As she was told by some of her other supervisors; the librarian known as Fabiana Melodía was a peculiarity. They had spoken several times, and Raine was sometimes rendered bashful by the woman's sunshiny, outgoing disposition. From what she had discussed with Fabiana so far, Raine had learned that she was a huge fan of comics and animated media. She was somewhere in her forties. She wore her make-up in a particular way, and always seemed to have her nails done. She also loved history books and Paldea's weekly Occulture magazine.

Funny that Raine should remember Occulture…

The older woman and her wavy pink hair, stray hairs by the plenty were bouncing along with her as she was situated in front of the Occulture collection with clown-like poise. She had been poring down the pages of one of the volumes with rapt attention, a serious expression on her face. She often muttered utterances of "Hmm"s and "I see.."s. Her cartoonish seriousness was so outlandish to other outsiders, with students and staff passing by her exchanging giggles and Raine couldn't help but give up holding in her own. Was she trying to bemuse the people around her? Nobody could really tell. In truth, this was the kind of person Fabiana carried herself out to be, on the regular.

"Rainey!" the older woman beamed upon noticing the younger woman's prescence. "You found me. I 'spose it wasn't that hard; these magazines attract me to them like flies to a Vileplume." She posed, turning around briskly, hands on her hips and looked towards Raine, who was now in front of her. She asked, "What's got ya gigglin' this early?"

Raine blinked, her face mottled with a faint pink. "N-nothing really. You must really like this magazine huh?" She could hear her voice crack when she asked.

"I love me some Occulture!" Fabiana responded. "And some manga. But that's only when I can go on break during my second gig." That's right, Raine recalled. Fabiana worked two jobs. When she wasn't carrying out her duties at the library, Fabiana was at her post at the cafeteria's register. It was curious to Raine that her supervisor took two jobs, but she wasn't one to pry. A brief silent spell followed, which was soon broken by her supervisor.

Fabiana blinked, then smiled, her face inching closer to Raine's and curioisty followed her. "Oh?" Her signature red heart earrings spun as she moved. It was hard to believe they were as light and hollow as Raine was told, they sure looked heavy.

Raine blinked even more then blushed. "W-what!? What's wrong? Is there something on my face?"

Fabiana giggled. "Pardon me for starin'. It's just. You're really pretty."

Raine couldn't bring herself to words. Were they going to get to even doing their job at this point or what? "Excuse me? Miss Fabiana… um…" she asked in her characteristically soft voice.

"It kinda just occurred to me all of a sudden." Fabiana remarked. "Your skin's really clear and it looks like you take care of yourself. That's important." She said this very matter of factly. It was very apparent that Fabiana seemed to run to the beat of her own drum, bouncing off one topic to the next.

Raine was taken aback somewhat. She had always considered herself very plain, somewhat average, always blending in. Fabiana did not seem the type to take notice of girls like her. Women like her, worldly, pretty, likely to have lots of lived experience; seemed like people from another planet. Her smile beamed with bright intensity, and it took all it could for Raine not to fold by how small and meek it made her feel. "Um.."

Fabiana chuckled."It's no worries! Sorry, I tend to get distracted a lot. Ol' Feef runs to the rhythm of her own drum. The archives room needs some help since they've been re organizin' it. Why don't we pay 'em a visit?" and the two of them went off, downstairs into a concealed entranceway where students and guests wouldn't be able to see. They hauled boxes upon boxes of manila folders and old artifacts that no doubt had some significance to the academy's long storied history.

The two of them were only asked to take care of the transportation of boxes from the archives to a storage room, so when that was said and done, Fabiana gave her goodbyes to her co-workers and Raine. No doubt, she was likely heading off to "organize" the Occulture section again, or so Raine assumed.

Raine was completely unaware of how many hours had passed since the morning began. It was now well past noon and the sun was beginning to show signs of cooling down. Her shifts were considerably shorter than that of her supervisors, so she wondered if she should spend the rest of it putting back check ins, as she had grown accustomed to, or seeing if the reference desk needed anyone to cover for them while they could use a well needed break.

Just as she was about to take a step forward out to the main library corridor, a voice from below where she had stood stopped her. "You're the intern right? Could you come here for a bit?"

-------------------------------------

Evening and a golden sunset now blanketed the city of Mesagoza with its gilded shimmer. Fabiana took a yawn, stretched her arms, and rubbed her hands and forearms, they were sore from the repeated motions of shelving ad nauseum. Her curiosity got the better of a greedy her, and she wanted to know if anything of interest was unearthed in the archive room. She went down the secret stairway to the concealed hall and found that Raine was on her knees, scrubbing the floors with a wet washcloth.

"Where is everyone else?" Fabiana asked. Her entrance was so sudden to Raine, that the teal haired woman nearly stumbled backwards into the bucket of soapy water she used to dip the wash cloth in. "Miss Fabiana! I didn't hear you come in!"

"Why are you still here?" Fabiana asked. "It's past 6:30. Doesn't your day end at 4:30?" She noted the bucket, washcloth, and a mop situated in the corner of the room.

"They're having me wax the floors, but its taking me longer than I expected to clean them up to prep them." Raine took a break from scrubbing and wiped her wrist against her forehead. Fabiana crouched down to meet her; both women heard an audible crack come from the pink haired woman's lower back as she took the washcloth and scrubbed in Raine's stead.

"You're fine with this?" Fabiana asked of her younger contemporary. "It seems like they're making you do extra work you didn't ask to do."

"It's fine…" Raine said with her soft voice. "I figured that picking up some extra grunt work would do me good… I want to make a good impression." Then, with uncertainty in her stomach, "I want to make it clear to everyone that I want this job.. that I want to be a full timer when I graduate." Her mouth trembled as she stood to stretch and Fabiana stopped scrubbing.

"I don't think this- this making you wax the floor of the room has much to do with that." Her tone was unusually serious. "I know the ladies who asked you to do this, because I've seen them ask you to take out the trash and file things past your work hours. Those aren't your duties when you clock out. They're just using you."

Raine blinked, unsure of what to say next. Something about her co-worker seemed off, like she dropped a facade. Fabiana continued, "At the end of the day, a job is a job. You should be able to go home when you clock out. You owe it to yourself to voice your feelings and concerns. It's okay to say 'no' to things."

"You're being picked on for being the new kid."

Was she really? Raine had gained a new perspective she wasn't conscious of. Fabiana had her put away the cleaning supplies, and reassured her that the archival team that was originally meant to clean the room would do it.

At home, Raine went to bed, the usually cheerful woman's stern words re-playing in her mind like a tape recording. It was true. Raine had spent most of her life as a doormat. It took the realization of the quirky beauty of the library to snap Raine to reality.

But what did it matter? Her own Pokemon didn't seem to mind, but they also didn't really see her when she was at work. Unsure of what to do the next day now that Fabiana unofficially relinquished her from floor waxing duty, she grabbed hold of her Raichu Maribelle, who was already dozing off, and joined her in deep slumber…

[atendersun-archived]

Trauma Bonding: An in-depth glance at the impact and integration complex trauma has within Muu's interpersonal relationships and love languages.

Disclaimer: Even though there are numerous studies even at present, and with psychology always changing, this post will only be dealing with the five most recognized love languages and how they fair in Muu's every day life / core values.

Gift Giving: The least of all the love languages that Muu will often willingly participate on. Even with all the years that have past, he still so vividly can recall the heartbreak of watching items he both worked on and poured his love into be dismantled or discussed in a disgusted manner in his late teens / early twenties that he actively goes out of his way of letting history repeat itself as much as possible. To receive a gift from him is one of the greatest indicators that he finds one's company to be a safe haven, but know that right can and will be revoked at any time the opposite has been even slightly announced to him.

Physical Touch: Another one low on the pole until he is most certain physical and emotional harm is off the table, this one too carries with a heavy burden from the past. It is to be noted that around the time in which his name took on the label of being a predatory individual, he had both already endured and would go on to experience more trauma of the sexual nature that he had no clear cut idea of how to go about handling at an already lonesome and abandoned time in his life. Even kissing, an active of love he so wholesomely gave out at every whim of a merry heart back in the day is solemnly acted upon in his adult age.

It aids him no further that he carries the added hinderance of feeling as though both his body and his touch are grotesque. That he would perhaps injure those around him with an experience akin to being burned on the surface of their own person should he have unwisely connected their livelihoods without properly assuring such a thing was the right and available thing to do. He's never the one to make the first move in a dance of affection, and yet it is the starvation of his soul that leaves him as the last to let go.

Words of Affirmation: Unsatisfactory moments in time proved to taint this one as well over the years; however, in some twisted manner Muu would feel appreciation towards many down the line. He is not one to state 'I love you' so simply. Instead choosing to suggest such a manner of thought in a way that is very personal and unique to the individual he is professing towards. He grew to hear himself being referred to as being a flatline-- one in which that made all in his life feel so uncannily the same in terms of importance ( or a lack thereof really) that it grew to be no surprise when love turned to sour resentment and hurt across the way well down the line. Fearful of being thought as being that once more, the male is plenty guilty of applying what studying he can into ensuring his recognition of those around him are based not on what they do for him, but instead the value they bring to his life for no reason other than the admiration he holds for them as a soul within a person he's so thankful to have met.

Quality Time: There is something to be said about a young man who knows so much of being made to feel like an unsatisfactory blip in someone's life, and yet knows no bounds in wishing for greater success for his own worth time and time again. Muu is not oblivious to the fact that his fearfulness and tremendous lack of self esteem makes him not only a bore in comparison to far more exciting people to be around, but that it also comes with the added work of having not only tolerate time spent with him, but to also manage it as well. And while it can be so easy to adjust to the idea that little can be gained from settling with someone who, at most, might only exchange the words 'I'm sorry' and 'I love you' to you with little else between as he resides so heavily in survival mode even in the least of threatening company, know that beneath that all he is so hopelessly ecstatic at being chosen that every little bit of nurturing that goes on within those moments will and can build up to a time well spent with the joyfully authentic version of a heart waiting to envelop you in every glimmer of love it is plenty capable of radiating. There's a worthwhile person in there underneath all the timid chatter and tears, he promises.

Acts of Service: The go to. The umpteenth 'perhaps this one will make me good enough' attempt at hopefully giving him the clearance to be loved unconditionally after many years of feeling anything but. He'll happily clean, cook, tend to, and be present at every beckon and call if it so means he'll be doing something right. At twenty five years of age, Muu holds no value to his personhood whatsoever. One can very easily acquire from him the belief that he is not on par with dirt, but rather one step below. It has become integral to his safety that he holds such strong negativity towards his existence, because any complaint in the past only drew forward more pain from those that implanted such an idea in his influential mind in the first place. Hold no hesitation in turning his acts of anxiousness back at him. Persistently inquire as to whether or not his helpfulness is rooted in genuine care for their wellbeing, or perhaps he is acting on the instinct that to do otherwise would be asking for danger to befall on his own.

This love language, in the case of Muu at least, is a trauma response. He's helpful because he's scared. He's compliant because he's already imagined enough situations for what could occur to him if he decides not to be just that. He's been beaten, neglected, abused, assaulted, and bullied for so much of his life by people that he continues to be accessible to as they do not exist within the two dimensional. These are people on the platform that I did not create-- nor can I take them away. The only thing you can really do is say the same thing maybe a hundred, thousand, or even a million times over: you are loveable and you are safe. He's not going to believe you for a long, long time. But when he does, there is a beautiful person tucked well beneath the rubble of a grieving and frightened young man that even now still lashes out at a world he strongly believes shunned him first.

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

For the whole history of JEAN-PAUL DUCHAMP, please click here.

* please note -- due to a lack of MCU canon, we will supplement with earth-616 info

← ONCE THERE WAS AN IDEA TO BRING TOGETHER →

Although he arrived in New York to confront Marc, Frenchie has decided to stick around for a while. In a surprising turn, he’s opened up a restaurant and works as their Maître d' while using it as a front for contacts. It gives him space to attend to everything that he wants to, and a good cover is always a good time. Being able to connect with old friends has been bittersweet; things are changing, but at least Marc is in his life once more. He can figure out the rest later on.

←  A GROUP OF REMARKABLE PEOPLE TO SEE IF THEY →

✗ MARC SPECTOR (MCU) and Frenchie go way back. They worked together with Frenchie serving as a pilot before Marc vanished into thin air; they specifically contracted with the traitorous Raoul Bushman. Marc’s disappearance angered Frenchie to no end; not only did he not know where his friend was, he didn’t even know if he was alive or not. It wasn’t until they ran into each other in New York again that Frenchie got any kind of answer. He’s still mad, but he’s also very glad to see Marc alive and okay once more.

✗ JAKE LOCKLEY (MCU) is an alter of Marc’s that Frenchie interacted with over the years due to Jake’s protective nature over Marc when things became too difficult to process. The two weren’t as close as Marc and Frenchie were, but he at least met him, which is more than he could ever say about Steven Grant.

✗ LAYLA EL-FAOULY (MCU) loves Marc as well. She’s the one who married him, of course, but the two are in the unique position to know what it’s like to love Marc and deal with his demons. When he first went missing, Frenchie assisted Layla in looking for Marc to no avail. Later, she was the one who called and told him that he was in New York. He deserved to know, and he’s infinitely grateful that she reached out.

← COULD BECOME SOMETHING MORE  →

✗ INDEPENDENT CONTRACTING → It may not work for some, but Frenchie’s been in the game for a long time. It wasn’t difficult for him to get his American contacts active so that he would travel to the States to confront Marc for disappearing. With the amount of people that he knows and his impressive resume it’s not hard for him to land on his feet.

✗ OTHER AFFILIATIONS -- n/a

← & IF WE CAN’T SAVE THE WORLD, WE’LL AVENGE IT →

✗ AGE → 40′s ✗ MULTIVERSE ORIGIN → mcu ✗ SPECIES → human ✗ ETHNICITY → up to player ✗ SECRET IDENTITY → no dual ✗ RELATIONSHIP STATUS → open ✗ FACECLAIM → pedro pascal ✗ AVAILABILITY → taken

← FUN FACTS →

goes by ‘frenchie’

was present the night bushman killed abdullah el-faouly

has had romantic feelings for marc

survived the blip

[harrietsdreams]

Chapter 4

This trip could be both a catastrophe and the most important moment of my life. Our arrangement was odd to say the least. My parents were already there, as they were terrified of what the oldest Allard might mean by news. So Theodore offered to drive us there, together for hours on end.

Lily refused to enter the backseat. No one protested; in the end, she lost a game she didn't even know she was part of.

I took it all in: the noises becoming quieter, the strong pine smell, tiny villages populated by even tinier numbers of inhabitants. Entire lives and histories, we were only part of for a blip of a second. Our messy and confusing lives, fated to never cross theirs.

Maybe it was for the best as I initiated multiple attempts at conversations between Leon and Cadie, resulting in screaming matches. All of them ended with Theodore threatening to drive into a ditch if they didn't stop.

Lily seemed to not mind any of this as she gave a four-hour presentation of her life story and positive attributes. Cadie and I endorsed her with casual comments of encouragement. Some of those made me uneasy. Leon knew, did he not? Oh, God.

Theodore nodded profusely, probably too engulfed in his first time driving on a highway. Nervously asking everyone if it was alright. Spoiler alert: it was not. Despite all this, we also laughed a lot, and Cadie responded politely to Leon one time. Lily went hauntingly silent at the entrance that led to the country house. And for the finale, Theo let out a profound sigh.

There we were, that same golden light shining through those wheat fields. At a loss, I asked the empty space how I was supposed to feel.

Mom. Would you expect me to smile? I apologise but I will refrain. Holding on to the promise we made with your eyes full of joy. That all you needed was my smile, and you would always be there. So I don’t, to keep you in a “Schrödinger's state.” Despite my ramblings, I am not all that different from Grandma. In this state of ambiguity, your hair remains superior to this golden sunset.

Perceiving myself as small and powerless. Can you help me through these feelings? Directly beneath that place looming above.

“Harriet!” I heard my aunt-turned-mother. A tangible one, more motherly than a ghost I sorely miss. “Have you been sleeping well?” She asked, gulping.

“As well as I can,” I answered honestly. She could tell either way.

“Grandma is alright… So if you want to go home-”

“I made up my mind to face this head on.” I probably should not mention Cadie or the deal we all made about my parents. My aunt knew my mother as her sister before I even existed… It must be difficult.

“Alrighty! Then I should mention that the Olives are here. You used to play with their kids so well…” She barely concealed a grin as she attempted to nonchalantly say that.

“Oh please, honey! You are so obvious,” Uncle added.

“Right? Her face says it all!” I grinned, reaching out for a hug.

She welcomed me in her arms but not without adding a snarky remark, “They grew up to be fine adults. Either way, give them a chance.”

I giggled harder, resembling a tall child in her embrace, and my auntie seemed to relax after that. “Sure. Why not?” I lowered my voice. “What do they say about that floor?”

My uncle looked behind him as if a ghost would appear. “The same as usual.”

“Dears, if you are about to badmouth me, at least enter my home before you do it.” She shot a harsh gaze towards her daughter and son-in-law. I turned towards her, preparing my greetings, but Grandma's eyes that fixated on me were unkind.

“Harriet. You-” Grandma visibly noticed her expression, fixing it to the usual one. “Enter. Your room is ready.” She stormed inside, running out of sight.

***

Leon and Lily immediately installed themselves in their respective bedrooms, like they had never left. I also rushed to deposit my belongings, envying their ease. Theodore and Cadie seemed to be missing. Did Grandma say something to them?

Later. I will ask them later. “My bedroom” felt spacious, far from the safe and cosy box back in the city. This house seemed to me unlike reality, resembling a portal I had traversed, someplace else. A voice inside told me: “You are not welcome.”

Setting foot into a fairy-tale, it felt like a princess chamber forgotten in this nowhere place. And I had fallen from a black hole and ended up here; after all, I was not suited for such stories.

I fell flat on the perfectly made bed. Balancing between the urge to stay in outside clothes or be a healthy, functional person. As my mind flooded with pesky dark clouds, the bed sunk into the shape of my body. Hours of almost falling asleep or minutes at a time turned into giving up.

I scooped my bunny-shaped slippers from my bag, not caring for the mess of clothes left. Rapidly, I was out of the door, with the sneaking ability to not wake up a large family while drinking water at night. 

Soon my feet found themselves in an unfamiliar mansion’s garden. It seemed dreamy, so well-kept that even the leaves and rocks appeared to be beautifully placed. Different from any distorted memory in my earliest memories, estranged from myself.

The fresh air lessened a headache I had been festering, and everything felt peaceful. Following a path made from minuscule pebbles led to a strange structure, which upon closer inspection was a fountain. In the centre stood some goddess with a deer-like animal. Moss grew in unflattering places; it was a decrepit monument of time, amongst well-groomed vegetation.

Why was that? Inspecting my surroundings, there was no rhyme or reason for this contrast.

Then I heard footsteps. "Lilian? What are you doing here? It's a little late, don't you think?" said a calm male voice. His chuckles resonated through the night.

[ggswaywardgifrepository]

Spoilers for Resident Evil 4 remake.

Now that I’ve finished and am onto replaying Resident Evil 4 remake…

Ada was about the only thing that wasn’t improved upon. Blip on the radar Wesker wasn’t great, either. Sally Cahill and Richard Waugh were the best in those roles and where other iconic performances have been matched, Ada and Wesker (again, for his very brief cameo) didn’t stack up.

I do like that Leon is more guarded with Ada in the remake verse. It makes sense he’d be apprehensive—once bitten and all. That’s probably the thing that has always bothered me about their older interactions. He was too trusting and naive in the original RE2.

But I get their chemistry. Ada was always the perfect mix of flirty and aloof, only showing how deeply she genuinely cares for Leon when shit is dire.

Remake Ada comes off as bored, put-upon, and like she just doesn’t give a shit.

Upset for how the game butchered her but pleased for the way Leon and Luis get on this time around.

Effortless humor and chemistry, and Luis has become my favorite thing about the whole game. He’s funny but he’s also very sympathetic. I knew they were still going to give him the same ultimate fate as in the original but it wrecked me when it happened.

That change also really solidified Krauser as a true villain. While the majority of the original RE4 told us all about him and his history with Leon, most of what should’ve defined him as a character was pre-canon.

It was still that way to a point, but the presentation was better this time, plus, he took that major action toward showing us why we should hate him.

[captain-tch]

Trinkets (Glenn Rhee x Platonic!Reader)

You collect items from significant points during the apocalypse.

TW: mention of suicidal thoughts and description of gore under the cut!

The first thing you ever collected was a pebble. It was the smoothest pebble you had ever seen, its shape so symmetrical you felt a compulsion to slide it into your pocket to treasure forever. It became a comfort to stroke it's smooth surface, to calm your racing heart whenever you were nervous. It reminded you of a time when all of this had begun, and you were alone until he sat besides you.

There was a slight chill in the air. You tugged your jumper closer to your chest, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down your spine. From here you could smell the acidic smoke drifting from the fire at camp; you couldn't face them today. They were all laughing, chatting mindlessly as if they weren't plagued with nightmares over what had transpired over the past few weeks. Nearly everyone sitting around that campfire had someone from their life before, someone they could trust and confide in, and those that didn't had settled in so well it's like they'd always been there.

You had no one.

You never settled in or found an old friend or family member by the craziest of coincidences. Just like always you could only rely on yourself. Sometimes that wasn't enough. Sometimes when the memories of blood and gore become too much your body craves the familiar comfort of being pulled into an embrace, the weight of their body against yours enough to distract you for a precious few minutes. Here though? No one here had the power to do that, the fleeting touches of strangers only adding to your anxiety and not soothing.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you rested your hands behind you, feeling the pinch of the pebbles beneath as you looked up at the night sky. If there was one perk of the end of the world, it would be the way the stars shone so bright. Up there, there were galaxies and civilisations that you could only dream of. You weren't even looking up at the stars in real time, the light taking so long to reach earth that you were a mere observer to history by simply looking up. You felt like those stars. Caught up in the past and trying to focus on the present, and failing miserably.

"Hey." A voice broke you out of your stupor. You jumped, spinning around to have your heart rate calm when you realised it was Glenn. He was one of those that had arrived at the camp alone, his friendly nature allowing him to integrate into the group dynamic with ease. You envied him for that.

Meekly, you responded. "Hi."

"You should come by the fire, it's chilly out tonight." You noticed how Glenn was shuffling on his feet, gesturing a hand behind him to the fire.

"I'm fine." Your body took that moment to betray you. A visible shiver rocked your body.

"Okay... just know we're here if you need us." You heard the faintest of sounds, almost like a zipper being undone. A soft fabric fell into your lap. It smelt strongly of Glenn. You looked up at him; he merely shrugged.

This act of kindness brought a thin sheen to your eyes. This interaction was the first in a long time to remind you of what it was like to have a connection to someone, and for the briefest of blips, you were able to live in the present. Before you could help it, the words fell out of your mouth. "Stay."

"Are you sure?"

A weak smile curved onto your lips. You had isolated yourself from the group, terrified of reliving the pain of the past, but in doing so you made yourself even more miserable. Maybe you did need a friend. "Just because I'm alone doesn't mean I have to be lonely."

He walked towards you. He stood close enough you could feel his body heat: you relished in it, feeling it warm your cold bones. "You're not alone, you have us."

His presence was slowly warming both your body and soul. For the first time since arriving at the quarry, you felt included.

As you'd patted the ground beside you, your hand fell on the pebble.

The second thing you collected was the tiniest, most delicate of feathers. It was a muted brown, having fallen off a chicken at Maggie's farm. It had begun to fray with time yet you still held onto it as if it was made of gold.

You stood by the chickens and the hens, watching them chirp with a distant smile on your face. They reminded you of before.

"Would you like to feed them?" Maggie's voice interrupted your day dream. You jumped five feet into the air. "Sorry, I just noticed you watching them. They're beautiful, aren't they?"

You nodded.

"Let me grab you some chicken feed, I'll be right back." Maggie dipped away from your line of sight. You returned to gazing at the chickens with a lazy smile on your face.

Maggie came back quickly, two baskets in hand. She passed you one, showing you to spread the feed near the chickens. You fell into a pattern of sharing the feed, enjoying the joyful clucks the chickens made.

"Can I ask you a question?" You nodded your head. "Your friends with Glenn, right?"

You thought back on your memories of him. Sitting under the stars at the quarry to help you feel more relaxed, him saving your life as a walker was about to rip into you when the camp was overrun, and how he comforted you when the incessant beeping of the timer attacked you at the CDC. As a group you had all been through a lot; Glenn was always there. He sensed your nervousness, your fear, and he could make it melt away with just a funny comment or a smile. Friend felt like a strange term to use for someone you classed as family.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Why is he such a prick?"

You froze, frowning. "He's one of the kindest people I know."

"Nice people can be pricks too."

"Has something gone on?" Maggie stayed silent, her gaze fixed onto the chickens. You sighed. "He might have done a prick-ish thing, whatever it is, but I can tell you he is not a prick."

"Good to know."

"Do you like him?"

"Excuse me?"

"I see the way you look at him, Maggie, it's kind of obvious."

"Of course I like him. Why does it matter to you?"

"Because if you do, I need to give the "you ever hurt my friend" speech."

"Save your breath."

Maggie turned to leave, you placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "What you two have is good. Please don't throw it away."

She left. As odd as it sounded, it was nice to be involved in a drama that didn't involve walkers or blood shed.

You stayed by the chickens for a while, thriving in the normality of it all. The farm felt like it was frozen in time, taken from before things truly hit the fan. The chickens were clucking happily amongst themselves.

You felt a presence move besides you. From the corner of your eye you saw Glenn leaning against the chicken coup, looking down. Something was dripping off of his jaw.

"I've fucked up." Glenn whispered, head bowed low.

Concern flooded you. The chickens long forgotten, you turned to focus all of your attention on Glenn, unable to hold back your gasp. His hat was damp, and what you had mistaken as sweat was a yellow liquid slipping down his face.

"What the hell happened?" You took his face in your hands, swiping the liquid away with a thumb. He shied away from your touch.

"Maggie cracked an egg on my head." You opened your mouth to protest; before you could, he interrupted you. "I deserved it."

"Is everything okay between you two?"

Glenn took a deep breath, setting his jaw. "I saw something I shouldn't and now I'm worried for the group. For all of us."

"I'm assuming it has to do with Maggie?"

"I saw her family, Y/N. I saw her brother and..."

"Aren't they dead?" Glenn made no effort to confirm what you knew. The pieces started to fall into place as you realised Glenn was trying to tell you that the Greene family were hiding walkers on the very farm you took refuge on. As much as you wanted to be angry, you couldn't help the squeeze of your heart. Having lost all of your family in the early days, you could relate. You imagined this was them holding onto hope for a cure.

Reaching out, you squeezed Glenn's shoulder reassuringly. "What are you going to do?"

"What do you think I should do?" He was looking at you as if you held all of the answers. Since you two had become friends, you couldn't remember a single time he had asked for your help. He was smart and resourceful, seeming to know everything. As much as you wanted to help him, all you could do was shake your head.

"Glenn...That's not my choice to make."

"You're not going to tell anyone?"

"Only if you don't want me to."

Glenn seemed to sag in relief. In a voice so small you had to strain to hear him over the chickens, he confided. "I don't know what to do."

"No matter what, I support your decision." You bumped him with your hip. "I think you definitely need to shower."

"Yeah, no kidding." Glenn took his hat off of his head, spinning it around in his hands. "My hats ruined, isn't it?"

"We can get you a new one."

"No... I think I've grown out of it."

You took the hat from his hands, turning it around. A glimpse of brown caught your attention. You inspected it further, making out the tiniest of quills. A small laugh slipped past your lips.

As delicately as you could, you pulled the feather out of the hat.

The third item you collected was a torn page of a book. It looked like it had been from a self help book, the advice cut off as the page ended. There was one line underlined three times in pencil.

Glenn lingered by the cell door, rapping his hands against the iron railings. You turned your head towards him, a tired smile on your lips.

"What?"

"Wanna help clear the fence?" A spare knife was already in his hand, outreached towards you. Groaning, you threw your head against the pillow.

"I'm guessing that's not a suggestion."

"It's pretty bad out there and I need company."

"Ugh," you climbed out of the bed, moving out of the cell. You jokingly knocked his shoulder with yours. "You owe me."

"Yeah, sure." He rolled his eyes, pushing your arm and sending a teasing smile your way.

"Is there a reason you're asking me and not your girlfriend?"

"I miss my best friend."

His words made your heart warm. While it had taken you some time to settle into the group like you had once envied him for, you were closest to Glenn. He had supported you, and you had supported him, more times than you could count. "Aw, I'm your best friend?"

"Well, there's not exactly a lot of choice."

Mocking offence, you kicked the back of his leg. He slightly tripped, turning around to give you a playful glare. "Oh fuck off."

His words played on your mind as you methodically drove the knife into the walkers, watching them drop to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. It was the first time he had admitted out loud that he was your best friend, and all you had done was hit him. While it was something you both knew, it felt different hearing the words proclaimed out loud. Oh god, you thought to yourself, I'm a terrible friend.

"Glenn?"

"Hm?"

"You're my best friend too."

"Really?" He said breathlessly, pausing from killing the walkers. He was turned towards you and now you could feel the nerves bubbling in your gut. You had convinced yourself you wanted to tell him everything, and now your anxiety was sky high. Before you could think too much into it, you started to speak.

"Yeah, really. No one else tried as hard as you to help me fit in. I never told you, but at the CDC... I thought about it. For a split second I wanted to stay in that room with Jacqui and Jenner. The dead were walking, my family were dead or nowhere to be found and everything I knew had been turned upside down. But then you held me as I cried, and you fought to get out. I realised I had to get out for you."

"I... I never knew that."

Your head was bowed, words almost lost to the groans of the walkers. "I was ashamed."

"There's no shame in wanting to give up." Glenn wiped the sweat from his brow. He turned to face you, his face the most serious you had ever seen it. "You got back up, Y/N. I'm proud of you."

"I'm proud of you too."

Glenn reached towards you, wrapping you into a hug. You were enveloped in the scent of sweat and dirt but it was his scent. He held you so tightly you could feel the imprint of Hershel's watch pressing into your hip but you didn't care.

A loud animalistic growl made you both jump. Pulling out of the embrace, you both resumed trying to clear the fence. Time seemed to fly by as your arms grew steadily more tired and your back felt as if it was burning under the Georgian heat. The grip you had on the knife was slick. All of the undead blurred into one, until a certain walker caught your attention.

"Oh my god Glenn, look at this." You gestured to a walker pawing at the fence. Nothing seemed abnormal until you looked at their chest, where a page had been pinned. One line in the book had been underlined.

The person that can help you is you.

Besides the underlined quote, a note was scribbled. "This is your sign to carry on."

You could imagine some poor soul pinning the note to the walker's chest. You imagined that walker falling on top of you, your arms weak, contemplating relaxing your arms for just a moment long enough to be torn apart. But then you'd see those words. You wanted to believe that someone placed that note there to save other people, it might have been the person who had turned, to provide a light when the world succumbed to the darkness.

Glenn plucked the page off of the walker's chest, batting aside it's probing hands. He handed it to you, a small smile on his face.

You rubbed the pebble, methodically stroking it's smooth surface. The sensation brought you a sense of calm. It was so dark inside of the container you could barely see your own hand in front of your face. The hard floor provided a strange comfort as the trinkets in your back pocket pressed into you.

Things had changed rather quickly.

You never realised how fast you could go from having a group, to having no one. The prison fell, and in the chaos you didn't see a single living soul. You could only pray that if any others survived, they didn't follow the train tracks like you had.

Sanctuary for all, what a crock of bullshit.

You had fought viciously to get here, fending off walkers, the elements, mother nature and the nature of man. You were so relieved to see the Terminus sign that you ignored the feeling in your gut, and now you were sitting in container D, waiting along with your other captives for god knows what.

If there was one small mercy, it was that they didn't take your collectibles. They had no use for a pebble, a feather and a loose page. They hadn't hesitated to strip you of your hat and jacket.

A thudding sounded on the roof of the container. You didn't even flinch as a gap in the roof appeared, a metal canister falling to the floor. You'd been here too many times to know what this meant.

The Termites entered the container, snatching at two men with you. You kept stroking the pebble, hoping they would walk right past you.

They walked towards you.

Dread filled you. There was safety of the unknown inside this container; but out there? You had been here long enough to know that the prisoners who left here didn't return.

You swallowed your fear, fixing them with the coldest stare you could until the bag was thrown over your head. You were pulled harshly to your feet. You tried to thrash out of their grip but there was no use. You cupped the pebble so tightly in your hand you could feel your fingernails digging into your palm.

You were dragged for what felt like miles. You kept tripping over your feet. You found yourself hoping that you would always be walking, and never reach the destination that you were certain was going to be your death bed.

They threw roughly to the floor. You fell to your knees, the cool floor freezing you to the bone. In one swift movement the bag was ripped from your head.

The first thing you saw was grey. The room could only be described as grey. Grey trough in front of you, grey floor, grey walls. A table towards the back of the room was grey; the thing on top was not. You couldn't hide your shock as you saw the body sat atop it, a leg missing.

The dots connected.

You were being held captive by cannibals.

You tried to swallow your fear. It felt like you were choking.

Four bodies were brought in besides you. You focused on them to distract yourself from the bubbling panic filling your veins. The bags were removed, your heart both soaring and sinking.

How ironic, that you would reunite in such dire circumstances.

At the same time you recognised them, they recognised you. Glenn sat besides you, his eyes wide with fear at your dejected state. Rick, Daryl and Bob were sat besides him, all gagged and bound like you were.

You tried to muster a smile, struggling to fight past the fabric tied around your mouth. All they did was stare at you, dumbfounded to have found a friend in this hell hole.

The first swing of the bat. At first you were confused, eyes following the sound. The man brought from your container was slumped over. The next moment, they had him pulled upright, slitting his throat.

You were transfixed by the red filling the trough in front of you. It never stopped. The man next to you started to panic, his worries quickly silenced with the swing of the weapon. His blood sprayed on your cheek as they slit his throat.

You felt a presence behind you.

It was at the minute you had the rushing realisation you were the next victim. Your body started to shut down. Memories of your life flashed before your eyes - the joys from before the apocalypse, eating ice cream at the beach and riding a bike until the sun dipped below the sky. They quickly transitioned to memories where the dead walked - you forced yourself to look beyond the bad, thinking about the day you made a friend under the starry sky, how he confided in you besides a chicken coup, and how he held you so tight when you revealed your moment of weakness.

Glenn was squirming beside you. If he wasn't gagged you knew he would be screaming. You couldn't muster the energy to try to resist. This was it.

You forced yourself to be brave. You didn't want to be weak in front of your friends. You hoped with all of your heart that they would be able to escape this hell and make it burn to the ground. You sat with your back rod straight, staring defiantly at the Termite's lingering around the room. The only indication of your fear was your shaking hands, your thumb seeking that pebble.

You looked at your best friend one last time, feeling the whoosh of the bat.

As more red filled the trough, a pebble, a feather, and a loose page fell to the floor.

the walking dead masterlist

[bottoms-movie]

SAMBUCKY FIC RECS

so a lot of people seemed interested this so here it is! if ya’ll like this, i can make more parts! this is split into three categories: based on tfatws, canon divergence, and au. all fics are on ao3. all of the fics are complete. some fics do include smut, but i included the ratings, so make sure to check for that based on preferences!

also, feel free to send me asks on your thoughts on any fics or if you’re interested in another sambucky fic rec post!

BASED ON TFATWS

Fill the Hole in my Heart | Not Rated | 4,848 words

Bucky dives into the world of online dating. The girls are nice, but there seems to be something missing. When he goes to Louisiana to meet Sam and his family, he realizes what that something was.

Skip, Reverse | Explicit | 7,945 words

Sam stood in the middle of their local Target with a throw pillow in each hand. The one in his left hand was butter-soft and matched the drapes in the living room, but Bucky had walked by five seconds ago and declared the one on the right “absolutely fucking hideous,” and so now Sam kind of wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.

Sometimes romance is just bickering with your superhero partner/roommate at several different Target locations.

just won’t do right | General | 7,524 words

Sam's eyebrows go up, impressed, and he reaches over to squeeze Torres' shoulder, "This is amazing, kid. Thanks, really."

Bucky sits and watches in utter horror as the pink darkens on Torres' cheeks.

Oh, he realizes. Oh. Fuck.

body language will do the trick | Explicit | 12,598 words

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

checklist | General | 4,716 words

Bucky Barnes keeps a mental checklist of things he knows to be true at any given moment. Sometimes the checklist changes, because he's learned something else about himself. It changes, for example, when he starts realizing that maybe he would like to kiss Sam Wilson. Maybe.

best laid plans | 3 parts | 26,808 words

part 1: baby you’re the wave and I’m ready for the crash | Explicit | 6,616 words

Nah, my plan’s better,” Sam declares, before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what plan? Was that a plan? It didn’t sound like a plan to me, it sounded like a vague intention,” says Bucky, still scowling, and Sam grins.

“We’re winging it, the plan is a work in progress! Now c’mon, we gotta make some wardrobe adjustments if we’re gonna get into that club.”

Sam and Bucky have some unorthodox methods of going undercover in a club.

He Doesn’t Deserve You! | Teen | 5,154 words

Sam and Bucky have an argument that results in Bucky being left at the bar. A group of drunk strangers assumes Bucky just got dumped and quickly adopt him for the night to make him feel better.

Reconstitution | Not Rated | 10,228 words

“I didn’t back Steve on the Sokovia Accords,” Sam says unprompted one day. They’re so close to apprehending the Flagsmashers and wrapping up this ridiculous saga.

“I don’t follow,” Bucky says.

“I was the one who refused to sign it first. Not Steve.”

Sam says it so softly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. Sam is loud and chatty and half the time he keeps up a constant stream of chatter just to get on Bucky’s nerves, but Bucky’s coming to realize that when he really wants to make himself heard, he’s soft spoken and mild. Bucky doesn’t entirely follow his train of thought, though.

Or: a breaking down, remaking, and coming back stronger than ever before

Stuck On You (You Suez, You Luez) | Explicit | 10,136 words

Sam and Bucky’s mission was simple: stowaway on a ship suspected of weapons-smuggling in the Suez, gather enough intel to report back, and hop off again in Port Said. Something gets in the way, and a day-long recon session turns into a week of chess, bickering, semi-successful movie references, and trying not to go slowly insane.

His Touch | Mature | 1,006 words

When Baron Zemo touched Bucky’s face, Sam Wilson saw red.

Bucky just wants Sam to comfort him.

rusted | Teen | 2,358 words

Bucky doesn’t grace him with a sound of acknowledgement. He’s been quiet, ever since that night with Zemo. Well. Quieter. It’s almost like. Every time he opens his mouth, he’s half-expecting the Winter Soldier to come out.

He hasn’t, yet. Won’t, ever again. Not unbidden. Sam’s sure of that. Bucky, not so much.

‘You busy?’

‘’m scouring the—’

‘Good,’ Sam cuts the idiot off, ‘I need you to help me shave.’

advanced therapy methods for large adult men | 2 parts | 11,717 words

part 1: The Gottman Method for Dealing with Conflict | Mature | 4,187 words

Bucky and Dr. Raynor have a follow-up session and two entirely different conversations about his relationship status.

Or: Let's do more couples therapy, James.

it’s always Bucky’s Fault | 3 parts | 20,089 words

part 1: Did you see it? | Explicit | 3,905 words

In which there's supposedly a viral video of the Winter Soldier on his knees sucking off Captain America.

Everything is, like always, completely Bucky's fault.

CANON DIVERGENCE

Even in the Present (I Am Living in the Past) | Teen | 16,977 words

Sometimes Sam still questions everything about his ability to shoulder the 80-year legacy he now bears. His history, and the history of his loss, sticks with him and even in healing he doubts whether or not he is able to fulfil his purpose, and whether he may find lasting peace and happiness.

Told in fluid-fragments, the story moves between his therapy sessions after his return from active duty and the post-Endgame present.

You never forget your first | Teen | 3,650 words

The story of Bucky and Sam getting together in a series of firsts.

leftovers | Mature | 19,249 words

With the New Avengers up and running, Sam finally has time to start dating again. Unfortunately, it's not going as well as he'd hoped.

Partners | Explicit | 7,235 words

Sam's not sure if he can be Captain America. He's not a supersoldier. He can't throw the shield. He's just a dude.

And Bucky Barnes is just a nuisance, albeit a pretty good-looking one.

I’ll explain everything to the geese | Explicit | 50,949 words

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

Night Swimming | Teen | 2,056 words

“Come on. The princess has a new arm for you and I gotta see if there’s a barber around here willing to tackle your…” Sam waved a hand at Bucky’s face.

“I don’t want a new arm,” Bucky immediately bit out.

And then -

“I can cut my own damn hair.”

Sam just raised both eyebrows. Crossed his arms over his chest again.

Dared Bucky to prove him wrong.

AU

Cpvert Coffee & Flirtation Specialist | General | 5,542 words

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield?? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

Stolen Moments | Teen | 98,767 words

“No,” Sam said, chuckling. “I don’t cheat,” he swept his gaze up and down James’ body, “even with guys who look like you. But, I’m bored and a little pissed, so if you wanna sit here and shoot the shit ‘til my man shows back up, I’m game.”

Never one to back to back down from a challenge - especially a challenge who looked like Sam Wilson - Bucky took another swig from his bottle and replied, “Sure, doll. I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve has Sam. Bucky wants Sam. Sam wasn’t expecting any of this.

Such a Whirlwind Since I Saw You | Teen | 10,871 words

The Men of Letters turned Bucky Barnes into a weapon. Hunters Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov are determined to save him, but they're going to need Sam Wilson's help.

“So you want me to ditch work, drive across America with you until you find your friend, who you thought was dead - all while avoiding some high-tech hunters who are out for blood?” Sam is asking.

Steve shrugs a shoulder, looking a little sheepish. Natasha almost laughs at the dry tone of Sam’s voice, but he's not wrong.

You Got What I Need? | Explicit | 37,588 words

Sam and Bucky are both in a bind, professionally. Nat points out a solution that neither men like. To save their careers they play along or rather, stop playing all together.

[punemy-spotted]

For Blue Skies

Pairing: Ikaris x Desi Muslim!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to FGM/Clitorectomy; Allusions to Child Abuse; Allusions to Scars; Angst; Arguments; Throwing of Glass; Psychology and the Healing of the Inner Child; Some element of Hurt/Comfort

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY AND IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE CONTENT THAT IS BEING PRESENTED, PLEASE DO NOT READ

Word Count: 2k words

Summary: To love a God is no easy thing. To face a God who could not shape a kinder humanity is even harder.

Author’s Notes: When I was five years old, I was subjected to a clitorectomy, a procedure that was a violation of my human rights and bodily autonomy. It has fundamentally changed the way I view my sexuality and challenged my ability to see myself as a person worthy of sexual pleasure and love.

Eternals was a movie that I both loved and hated because of the implication that the Eternals just… sat by and watched human history become what it is, or that they may have actually shaped it into what it is. Knowing the historical origins of FGM and connecting that to some of the story of the Eternals, I had a mini-breakdown and ended up spending weeks writing this to deal with it.

As always, thank you @brandycranby for putting up with me ranting about this.

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

In a way, you almost should have known this would happen — just as Icarus himself so loved the freedom of his wings and the warmth of the sun upon them that he flew too close and fell to his death, the act of loving Ikaris has burned you alive, hasn’t it?

Immortality, you know — have known, long before he broke his way into your life — is a curse. He has seen so much, grappled with Gods and Monsters, shaped the very humanity you are afflicted with. How can he see your pain properly, viewed from so high above, so aware of the whole scope of humanity, unbothered by your mundane troubles? Small things to a giant, the rough edges of this unforgiving universe are… nothing.

But you, mortal you, a microscopic blip in the scope of human history, wrapped in the constant daily stressors of your ephemeral life. To see the world through your eyes is to magnify his view a thousandfold and even the smoothest of surfaces are a mountain range of jagged peaks reaching up to the sky when viewed from up close.

To love a God is to know he was never truly yours, no matter how many promises he makes of himself — fealty and fidelity and faith — or how many ways you want to believe him. Never yours, but in the moments your life and his coincide, you are his.

The weight of truth is a heavy, heartless thing, sinking into the bliss of new love slowly, burning away the hazy edge of infatuation to bring about clear realization. A hand of ice and stone emerges from the ocean floor and truth emerges from the well of his mouth to shame you both for having the very audacity to think that you could.

A thousand lives born from every single one lost — it seemed like such a fair exchange at the time, he tells you, barely able to meet the pained betrayal in your gaze. He almost makes it sound so reasonable.

What is the cost of a life, what is worth the weight of all your memories, is it a thousand lives scattered across a thousand different worlds, a consciousness split across many infinite light years? What is the price you would pay to erase all your pain in conjunction with your pleasures, all for the chance to maybe be reborn on a world guided by kinder Gods?

So all of this, all of human progress was … priming us to be cattle, it is not a question, merely a truth, a shameful reality you are forced to face, Then what was I? There. A selfish question — but then again, what are humans but inherently selfish, occupied by their own survival first? What are you too, but a tangle of traumas desperate to be seen as yourself and loved for it all the same.

You… How can he answer that, what answer can he give to that, when the truth cannot be softened, cannot be smoothed over? You would have been my greatest regret to lose.

On television, a reporter speculates aloud on the investigation into the dormant behemoth that might have borne any number of new utopias and before you, the Eternal who once never questioned the cost holds back tears.

It’s a tragedy you failed.

At five, a child’s body does not belong to them, belongs to the elders, the “know-betters” who decide everything from clothes to eventual college education, to “best interests” and good intentions, an object both sacred and unconsecrated, carefully cataloged and sealed away until — like wine — it has aged enough to be known.

And who are the catalogers but kindly doctors and home surgeons, self-taught anesthesiologists with adulterated sherbets and unwanted visits to hospital rooms built in the home, meant for the poking and the prodding, the measuring and marking before the magic is done — just a moment of knifework, easy as that — and the specimen is released into the arms of its anxious owners, finally made pretty and perfect, purified in blood.

If there was a physical recovery for you, you don’t remember, not anymore. Memories fracture with your mind, shattered by the knowing you’ll never stop grappling with, the wondering you’ll never find an end to.

The blame you need to try and place.

Would you have? Regretted it, if the Emergence had actually happened?

You ask it of him days later, days of pretending you aren’t weighing every word of his confession in a thousand different configurations, trying to find one that did not anchor your heart to the slumbering giant at the bottom of the sea.

You ask it of him and all he does is watch you, measuring the weight of your distrust, I would never want to see you hurt.

Oh.

Oh sweet love, you almost tell him, almost throw the glass in your hand at him, almost shatter yourself at his feet, Oh sweet love it is far too late for that.

You bite it back instead, bite back the bile rising in your throat, bite back that scream you wish you could shatter the planet with, You wouldn’t have seen though.

You never do.

He wouldn’t have seen, you charge him, and in doing so you set his hackles to rise, the uneasy truce of your broken heart splitting the chasm between you further and this time he wonders if it’s worth trying to fly, I promised you I would protect you, he reminds, in the sharp admonition of a father insisting his love is Real don’t you see all that I do for you?

You did, you concede. You have to acknowledge it.

The tragedy is, so does he.

It is strange. To be a child and an adult all at once, to watch him and feel all the hurt and betrayal of your present coursing through your five-year-old psyche, the terrified child at the very core of you screaming for answers you promised, you promise, you promised!

Did he know, would he have known, would it ever have been relevant for him, so passionately dedicated to ridding the world of Deviants in their entirety? Wasn’t that enough?

Would it ever be enough?

You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t, shouldn’t charge him with the failure to protect you from the crimes committed before he ever knew he would come into your life in the aftermath. How could he have known, have seen, have anticipated the consequences of his indifference when — for so many centuries of his immortal life — he has followed only the design of a God merciful enough to let him pretend to be one on this planet?

You shouldn’t, yet you do.

You do for the sake of the girl you have never stopped comforting, for the woman you could have become, the mourning you have not ceased. He can see it, can’t he? Can see the child at the core of you wondering if she has — once more — placed her trust in the wrong person.

He says your name like an apology, approaches you slowly, watches you burn from the inside out and wonders too if he has — once more — laid waste to the heart of a woman he loves.

The weight of truth is a heavy, heartless thing, sinking into the bliss of new love slowly, burning away the hazy edge of infatuation to bring about clear realization and as the smoke of your denial clears you find yourself facing a man who could have and did not and you wonder if the weight of your resentment is enough to unseat him from your chest, from that space between your ribs where his name beats like a drum, Did you know?

What?

Did. You. Know.

Sweetheart, if I had known I would have—

Don’t call me sweetheart! You have lost the right to any sweetness left in me.

The glass that goes sailing from your hand flies without much coaxing, an act compelled by a girl who knows only that she is angry and in pain, believing ardently that the current target of her ire was at fault for all of it.

He manages to avoid the projectile with infuriating ease, glancing back to eye the shards of your heartbroken psyche, seeing the many injustices of time past reflected back at him in the wreckage and still… walks… closer. I know you’re angry, swee— he cuts himself off his time, hands bare and bloody before you like surrender.

Surrender surrender surrender.

It’s a standoff, shards of you twinkling in the once-comfortable home of your kitchen, his hands unsteady as he wonders how to put you back together without crumbling you to dust. You step back and he steps closer, like he could cage you in. Did you know did you know did you know?

Did he?

To be all-knowing and all-seeing is to know that seeing and noticing are two different things — one does not always take notice of that which one sees, the nose in front of one’s own eyes is edited out by one’s own mind — and the Eternals are neither omnipotent nor omniscient, merely … eternal. And to be eternal is to forget. Forget the mundane terrors of the past, leave the present an unfolding path, and look to what chains drag the future ever closer.

All of this was supposed to end.

To love a God is to know he was never truly yours but what of a God who loves a human? What of knowing the inexorable passage of time will lead to the inevitability of decay, what of immortalizing a memory that too, will one day fade in the mind of a being that has only so much space to remember?

All of this was supposed to end, he tells you, arms wrapped around you, collapse halted but briefly as he tries to justify the unjust.

What is the cost of a life, what is worth the weight of all your memories, is it a thousand lives scattered across a thousand different worlds, a consciousness split across many infinite light years? What is the price he would pay to erase all your pain and all his guilt, all for the chance that somewhere, on a world far away from here, there is a being composed of the same atoms as you who does not know pain or betrayal or him?

Thus, All of this was supposed to end.

You knew.

Knowing is different from doing. We trusted Arishem then, when we were told not to intervene.

Immortality, you know — have known, long before he broke his way into your life and your heart — is a curse. He has seen so much, faced the collapse of his very faith itself, saved the very humanity you are afflicted with. How could he have done anything, when — so aware of the scope of history — he would then have had to do more and how close can a God wander towards Tyrant? Small things to a giant, the rough edges of this unforgiving universe are humanity’s very struggle to survive.

He will see you too, and find fleeting joy in the small things.

Everything was always so fast — there were so many Deviants and still no one could unite to fight them.

So their traditions took a backseat.

They always found a new way to kill each other.

Humanity is a hard thing to love, but humans are soft, are fragile, are reaching for meaning in an unfeeling universe and he… does not love them but loves you, has sworn to love you in the only ways he has learned to, been yours in the only way he has been capable of, is the only home you have ever known and here in the magnified reality of your life, he whispers the words, I’m sorry.

He is. You know he is.

So he says to you, Forgive me.

So. Singed by the fire of his devotion to the larger things beyond, you sink yourself into the hearth of his promise now — fealty, fidelity, faith — and try to believe.

I’ll forgive you.