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clumsy-jiminie · 5 months ago

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ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ | ᴘᴊᴍ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴇɴ

❝ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ꜰʟᴀᴍᴇꜱ ❞

↣ summary :: Kiara Smith had dreamed of true love for as long as she could remember. from being obsessed with the Disney princesses who found affection in the strangest situations to dressing up as a bride from kindergarten to fourth grade. it was the only thing she ever truly desired, so much so that a pleasant smile and kind eyes could have her smitten in seconds. right when she thought she found the one, a chance encounter with Park Jimin—the city’s famously perfect fuck boy with a smile so warm and a heart of ice—has her feeling quite the opposite. he knocks her off her axis and derails her life as she knows it, yet the universe seems to have another plan for the two.

↣ rating :: 18+

↣ genre :: fluff, angst, smut, e2l, slow burn

↣ pairing :: business owner!jimin x fem!artist!oc ft. taehyung

↣ word count :: 4.7k

↣ chapter warnings :: mature language, questionable yoga poses, sexual fantasying, intimacy

↣ notes :: :) surprise :) the amount of sexual tension in this chapter makes me wanna smush their faces together and yell KISS ALREADY also JIN IS BACK JIN IS HOME WORLD WIDE HANDSOME HAS RETURNED 🥳 I was so happy to see our king of chaos return and spend some time with the rest of the boys!

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if you have any questions, comments, or concerns PLEASE don't hesitate to message me or send me an ask! my inbox is always open. 💖

"you're watching, I feel it. I know I shouldn't stare. I picture your hands on me. I think I wanna let it happen."

-liar, camilla cabello-

Amber eyes met with chocolate irises. After staring at each other with a widened gaze of disbelief, both pairs respectfully narrowed at each other.

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

Kiara dropped whatever stretch she was about to do, turning to face the blonde man who seemed equally, if not more, annoyed than the girl.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" She whispered harshly so she wouldn't cause a scene.

Jimin couldn't help but tilt his head to the side curiously, switching arms to stretch the other one out. "I thought it was pretty obvious."

Her eyes burned a hole into him. "No shit! I meant here, at this studio, when there are hundreds, if not thousands, of other ones!"

The man shrugged, "This one was in the area. Technically, I should be asking you what you're doing here. Aren't you supposed to be in Long Island?"

Kiara opened her mouth and prepared for a slick response, but the words died on her tongue. He had a point, but she wouldn't let him know. All she wanted was to relax; with everything else going on in her life, this was the one place guaranteed to provide some tranquillity. But now that was tainted by the blonde's mere existence.

It was like the universe was playing some sick joke on the woman, interweaving her life with someone as insufferable as him. Her existence became a reality TV show for the gods above and below, making Kiara and Jimin the main characters.

"What happened to your hair?" Jimin asked suddenly, filling the air of silence that grew between them. He had only checked out the woman because her hair caught his attention. So curly, wild, and free—he liked it, but it was Kiara's, so he couldn't. No matter how much he wanted to pull on her curls strand by strand to watch them recoil back to the loose spring. Plus, Kiara had straight hair—she always had straight hair—she couldn't just suddenly change it on him.

"Fuck off," she quipped while she placed her hands on her hips for a moment. Kiara didn't wear her hair curly for this exact reason; someone always had something to say about it. Whether it was white women and children reaching out to touch it without her permission, black men insisting she was anything other than black when trying to talk to her, and random Hispanic people speaking straight Spanish to her as if she understood. Kiara didn't like the attention it brought her. That's why she kept it straight. The only thing people would do was compliment her hair. The less attention, the better.

She inhaled deeply through her nose, trying to find the calmness she once had before Park Jimin had entered. If she couldn't, she would hightail it out of here and back to Little Latte to give Jeongguk an earful. She knew she should've stayed at his place and made his bed into a lovely, comfy depression nest. An overwhelming feeling sat in her gut as soon as Jeongguk mentioned the outside world.

"Was it on purpose? Like you meant to walk outside like that?" Jimin started to lean side to side casually, hiding the smirk that desperately wanted to form on his lips.

Kiara glared at the blonde, her fiery gaze meeting his playful one. So he thinks this is a joke? "Fuck you and ya motha."

"Oooh," Jimin chuckled, hiding his attraction to her accent. It was the first time he heard it so prominently. Did she know she had a voice that deserved to be in porn? He could listen to just her speaking with no direction at all and get off. "Insulting people's mother's now? Someone's a little feisty."

"You're right," she stepped off her mat and bent over, beginning to roll it up. Jimin's eyes lingered over the woman for more than what was appropriate. "Your mother is probably a wonderful lady. I bet she tried everything for you not to grow up a pretentious asshole, but unfortunately," she grabbed her mat and water bottle, "some thing's can't be helped."

Jimin's upper lip twitched, threatening to curl from the bold assumption that his mother was anything excellent. He should’ve told her off—let her know just how painfully wrong she was—but that little smirk playing on her lips stole the words from his tongue. All he could do was sigh deeply, exhaling all the words he wanted to say as he stared into those eyes of gold that threatened him as much as his own. Just as she stepped away from him, assuming the woman was going to leave so they both could have peace, a door opened. The duo turned their head towards the noise that interrupted their tension.

"Good morning, my blessed rays of sunshine and daring rainbows!" A short girl with wavy dark brown hair walked in, followed by a tall man with deep skin. With the amount of pep in her step, one would think she was skipping. She made her way to the front of the room, standing before the mirror on top of a mat. The woman was very petite, standing at 4'10 at most. In contrast, the man beside her had to be at least 6 feet tall. It was an odd couple, but Kiara didn't care as much as she wondered why there were two instructors instead of one.

The woman smiled brightly at the room as the chatting people from earlier slowly started to join the center. "It's an honor to have you join us for this couples class."

The duo's eyes widened with disbelief before releasing an aspirated sigh. "Ah, shit," they mumbled as they looked around the room. Everyone had a partner beside them, leaving them as the only pair.

"Today's class is designed for you and your partner to sync until you are one."

Kiara quickly raised her hand, promptly grabbing the instructors' attention. They nodded towards her, prompting her to speak. "What if you don't have a partner?"

The room erupted in tiny giggles like she said a joke, but Kiara's face remained unchanged. She stared at the two instructors, jaw clenched with an unamused expression spread amongst her features. She folded her arms over her chest, waiting for whatever response the two would conjure up.

"Oh, you were serious?" The man asked before Kiara nodded. He pursed his lips briefly before his eyes landed on the man beside her. Jimin looked at Kiara, wondering where she expected this route to lead her. It was only until the overwhelming feeling of someone staring at you that he pulled his gaze away from the girl and looked at the male instructor. "Do you have a partner?"

The blonde's eyes went wide before he cleared his throat. "Well, no, but—"

"Ah! So problem solved!" The male grinned before looking off at the rest of the class.

"No!" Kiara's voice pipped up before the female instructor could speak. "Problem not solved! Problem far from solved!"

"You're welcome to walk out," the short woman stated. She stared at the other woman, her warm blue eyes freezing over suddenly. That didn't stop Kiara from bending over again, preparing to gather her things until the woman's voice cut through the air. "But we don't offer refunds here."

Kiara stopped and froze, debating for a moment before slowly standing up. She had to dip into her savings fund to pay for this class, and she didn't want to waste money she shouldn't have been spending in the first place. Her shoulders dropped in defeat as she realized she was not only going to be stuck in the same room with Park Jimin, sober, for a whole hour, but now she was also to be his partner.

"Problem solved?" The female instructor asked with a tone of impatience lingering behind her words. Kiara nodded silently. The woman's eyes then traveled to Jimin, who met her gaze with a glare. She raised a questioning brow, tempting him to take a chance and try her also. And Jimin would've. He didn't need the money, nor cared so much for the class. He could've left, found another class at a neighboring yoga studio, and pretended he never ran into Ms. Kiara. But that was the issue. All it took was one glance at the woman who seemed to shrink into herself from embarrassment.

Jimin tilted his head back as he shut his eyes, letting out a small sigh of defeat. He placed his hands on his hips, gathering all the positive energy lingering in his system. He looked at the instructor once more, offering her his charming smile. "Problem solved."

The instructors seemed pleased, going on to resume their introduction to the class. Kiara found herself slowly shuffling towards Jimin. She leaned in subtly towards him. "Just so you know," she whispered, "I'm going to hate every second of this."

Jimin stifled back a dry scoff. "Likewise."

After the introduction, the instructors started the class with a simple breathing exercise. They demonstrated the position, causing Kiara's eyes to widen before she glanced at the blonde man beside her, who did not react. Soon, everyone, including Jimin and Kiara, got onto their mats and copied their position.

Kiara stared at Jimin while he avoided her gaze completely before cautiously sliding into his lap. The instructor pulled the shades on the window down, blocking out the natural sunlight before dimming the fluorescent lights. Speakers quietly played calm notes of guitar strings plucking and wind instruments. Despite the elements around them, the duo was anything but relaxed. Kiara tensed at the feeling of Jimin's hands on her back while hers wrapped around his neck loosely. Jimin tried to steady his breathing, praying that she couldn't feel how fast his heart was beating. They don't like each other; they haven't liked each other for months, so why did he need to feel close to her?

Kiara inhaled deeply, letting her eyes shut as her breathing began to sync with Jimin's. It was fast at first and slightly concerning until her fingers absentmindedly found the little hairs on his nape. He seemed to relax at the feeling of her fingertips stroking his hair. For the first time today, Kiara felt some sort of peace.

She wanted to pretend it was Taehyung's arms wrapped around her. She wanted to pretend it was his hands gently rubbing against her cool skin, warming her. She wanted to pretend it was his incredibly addictive scent she was breathing in. The sweet smell of citrus and pineapple colliding with a slight spice of black pepper and juniper berries with a heavy hint of vanilla lingering in the background was comforting. Disrespectfully intoxicating. Soothing. She wanted to pretend, but she couldn't.

All of his qualities were opposite of Jimin's.

Taehyung was naturally rougher and more dominating. Slow moments like this didn't come often, and if they did, it would always end with a hand on her ass or boob, groping her and telling her how horny he is. Sometimes, she just wanted to be held, to feel skin against hers in the most innocent ways. She didn't want her body to only be touched for someone else's pleasure.

Her boyfriend also smelled like a teenager who put on too much axe body spray. Kiara preferred something sweeter, more inviting, and easier on the nose, while Taehyung wanted people to smell him before he entered the room. His colognes contained more notes of cedar woods, bergamot, and various citruses—powerful and entirely too much for Kiara. Maybe that's why she found herself snuggling closer to Jimin, her nose pressing against the crook of his neck, causing the area to tense from her simple touch.

"Someone's close," Jimin whispered lowly, causing a pleasant chill to run down her spine. She didn't know his voice could get deeper, and it was a dangerous ability for him to have. His silk voice was already soothing on the ears, but this made it far more enjoyable.

"That's the whole point of the exercise," she mumbled, subconsciously pushing her body against his.

Jimin inhaled sharply, her curls tickling the tip of his nose. He couldn't slow his heart. He couldn't stop his mind, not while she was this close to him. All he could think about was how divine she smelled—a delicate mix of berries with hints of whipped vanilla. Sweetness seemed to be her signature, which he didn't mind. He just ran his fingers up and down her spine, instinctively pulling her closer by her hips. The woman couldn't help the gasp that escaped from her lips as her fingertips gripped his black shirt.

Kiara shouldn't be enjoying this. It was wrong on so many levels. Still, she couldn't help but let her eyes flutter close as she melted into his embrace. She imagined a world where the events leading to their distaste for each other didn't occur. A world where Jimin met her before Taehyung. A world where his gentle touch was normalized, yet still made goosebumps arise on her skin as if it was foreign.

The instructor's voice cut through their moment of peace, placing them back in the reality where they disliked each other. Their separation was slow, almost as if their bodies were rejecting the idea of it. Kiara's eyes met Jimin's briefly before she slid onto the floor and to the space beside him.

The class continued with some regular solo poses before another couple exercise. Kiara sighed deeply, dreading the moment she had to feel Jimin's hands against her skin. This is what she should be feeling, right? Then why did it feel forced?

The class watched as the male instructor demonstrated the pose. It was relatively easy, like the first one, yet Kiara's face flushed with heat. This class was truly meant for couples. She wondered if Taehyung would be interested in attending one with her, but she already knew his answer would be no. The activity was too boring, and with the closeness he would convince them to ditch and never return.

"You nervous or something?" Jimin whispered, sounding almost genuine as he pulled her from her thoughts.

"No!" She snapped at him quietly.

His brows furrowed as he gestured towards the space in front of him. "Then get in position." His tone matched hers without a second thought.

The woman glared at him despite being the one to start the trouble. Regardless, she did as she was told and stood before him. Sweat began to form in the palms of her hands as she felt his hand rest on her hip. She took a deep breath, slowly bending forward as the hand resting in the middle of her back guided her. She grasped her toes between her fingers while keeping her knees straight, causing the back of her legs to stretch. Typically, this was a very relaxing pose, and she usually would've gone a step further and wrapped her arms around her calves, almost pulling her head between her legs. Jimin's presence was a distraction—too significant not to notice—stopping her from stretching further. He wasn't doing much, but his hands gently persuaded her to continue the stretch by applying light pressure on her back while her other hand firmly kept her in place to ensure she didn't lose balance. It caused her face to flush, the feeling of his hands so gentle yet so commanding.

Curiosity flooded Kiara's mind briefly, leading her to glance at the mirror before them. And god, she wished she hadn't. It was enough that she found Jimin attractive—you'd have to be blind to say he wasn't—but with his dark eyes peering over her frame as he stood directly behind her and his brows somewhat furrowed with his head tilted to the side a bit, Kiara was surprised she didn't turn bright red at the sight. Her mind strolled to a dark area, wondering if this were the picture an onlooker would see if he was fucking her from behind. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she quickly looked away. She cursed at herself softly, knowing that specific scene would plague her thoughts for the next few nights.

Jimin inhaled deeply, trying to convince himself to remain calm. She was such a sight to see already, but bent over? It took every ounce of concentration he had not to allow blood to run opposite from his head. Despite wanting to fill the gap between them and press his hips against the woman, he stayed frozen in place. You know better, rang through his head like a mantra. Curse this class for being so sexually charged, as if couples couldn't also mean a pair of friends who like yoga as well. It felt as if the instructors were punishing the duo for speaking up against them. Although, he was pleasantly surprised with how flexible the woman was. He prayed for the moment when the instructors called for a new position, not wanting to deal with this level of torture any longer. And when they finally did, he only removed his hand from her back, allowing her to return to an upright position slowly. He watched Kiara through lowered lids. Why did it seem as if everything she did was purposely seductive? It was like the girl had lust running through her system, expressed through the way she moved and spoke. Jimin didn't back off until he got a face full of her sweet fragrance.

Kiara swiftly returned to her mat. She unzipped her hoodie, feeling as if the area just went up 20 degrees. The woman rid herself of the black fabric, leaving her in a cropped white camisole. She used her hand to fan herself, hoping that the lack of clothing and the cool air would allow her face to return to its usual shade. Jimin glanced at the girl, subtly doing a double take as her chest barely moved up and down to accommodate her breathing. He stared ahead, cursing himself mentally, as he felt he was just about to lose the fight between his head and dick. He made it through having the woman sit in his lap and bent over directly in front of him, but her standing in a camisole was what would do him in?

Fuck, he thought to himself as the instructors started to talk. Hopefully, the shrill voice of the fake-peppy woman could stop him at a chub so he could avoid the embarrassment. The sweatpants he decided to put on weren't necessarily boner-proof. Her curves were so noticeable, so divine, blessed by Aphrodite herself. He totally understood why Taehyung was drawn to her, but how he put up with her slick tongue every day during their relationship was beyond him.

The class resumed its regular poses once again, giving Jimin a break as he focused on his posture. Kiara couldn't help but glance at him now and again. The regular poses had them remain close, causing their limbs to brush each other occasionally. The slight touch was more than enough to cause goosebumps to rise on either party's skin. Almost touching each other should've burned. It should've made them recoil strongly like the heat of a nearing fire. Stolen glances between the two should've created flames fueled by disdain for the other.

But it didn't. For the first time since that fateful night when everything went to shit, they were coexisting. Neither decided to question it; instead, they just lived in the moment, considering it would be the last.

The instructors demonstrated another pose, prompting the duo and the rest of the class to follow. This one didn't seem as sexually charged. Jimin sat on the mat with his legs wide open, allowing Kiara to place herself between them. She leaned back into him, resting her head on the upper portion of his chest. The curly-haired woman tried her hardest to relax against him, knowing that this particular stretch could end with her pulling a very uncomfortable area if Kiara wasn't careful. She let her eyes flutter shut as she tilted her chin toward the ceiling. Her hands rested comfortably on Jimin as if this was just an everyday thing with him—like being comfortable with him was normal.

Jimin was utterly focused. Having Kiara this close to him again could cause some trouble for him. He had already proved to himself that his mind could go to that place easily regarding the woman. The blonde wished he could blame it on the lack of pleasurable activities, but that would be a lie. As Kiara sunk into him, her curls tickling the side of his neck, he reached forward to grab her ankles. He lifted her legs into the air, slowly but surely pulling her limbs to either side of her. Jimin's brows furrowed as he continued to pull farther than he expected her to handle. She let out a soft hum, sounding pleasant to the ears.

Jimin inhaled deeply. He had the girl spread eagle in his lap, pulling her legs back until the side of her head. He averted his eyes, looking anywhere besides the place where any other guy would gaze. He even caught the male instructor staring in her direction for too a little long. The blonde instantly narrowed his eyes at the other, jaw set and tongue ready to slit his throat if the gaze proceeded. Luckily, the man was smart. He was instantly unsettled by his gaze, looking elsewhere while pretending to help another couple. Jimin couldn't help but roll his eyes, lip curling at the thought of him possibly checking out another woman while seemingly in a relationship. Though it was an assumption, Jimin could usually tell taken men from single. The former seemed to move more cautiously or didn't care for anything else around them. The latter always had a wandering eye, interacting with the world's opportunities of the beauties bestowed on him.

Kiara opened her eyes, meeting with the ceiling before looking ahead. The way Jimin had pulled her legs, stretching her abductors pleasantly, felt amazing. She looked at their reflection, gazing at his surprisingly strong arms. Her mind traveled to a darker place where they sat in a similar position, in front of a mirror in the privacy of her home, with a lot less clothing. Kiara was so caught up in her imagination—something she definitely shouldn't be indulging in considering the state of her relationship status—that she didn't notice Jimin's gaze slowly fall upon her, their eyes meeting in the mirror once again. She seemed in a daze to him; eyes glazed over with developing lust. He only wished to get a peek inside of that mind of hers.

When she finally came to, noticing how her eyes locked with his, she glared at him and quickly averted his gaze. Her face flushed with heat, a tedious habit when it came to this man. Kiara hoped he wouldn't see the embarrassment hiding in her rose-stained cheeks, but Jimin only chuckled at the sight, and she was unsure if that infuriated her or granted her relief. She wasn't allowed to ponder her feelings as the instructors commenced wind down, consisting of the duo separating and laying next to each other on their mats. They were only a few inches apart. Jimin's finger twitched, craving an action he knew he very well shouldn't. An hour of grasping her soft skin in his hands should've sufficed him. Yet he was greedy, wanting more of her than they both knew she could give.

Kiara stared up at the dimmed, round light fixtures that hung from the ceiling until little flashes of color invaded her line of vision. She let out a deep sigh, letting her eyes shut. Her mind was a tsunami of thoughts when it was supposed to be a calm lake. Three men crashed like tidal waves on her beach of sanity, when she hoped this class would get rid of them only for a second. She didn't want to think about her annoying boyfriend, her best friend whose eyes seemed to cover hidden feelings or the blonde whose looks should match his ugly personality to make things easier on her. She attempted to drown them with silence—push them so below the surface that it would take days for them to reach the top of the wave again.

The room became brighter as the fluorescent lights turned on, and the instructors raised the shades to let in natural lightning. Kiara heard the other occupants get up and retrieve their stuff, but she remained glued to the floor beneath her. It wasn't enough time. This class achieved the opposite of why she attended. She still felt tense, and on edge, waiting for someone to push her over.

"Well, that wasn't a total nightmare," said a voice above her. The smug tone wrapped around his words dropped like acid onto the girl's face. Opening one eye, she was graced by the image of Jimin slightly bent over, hands in his pockets, with golden hair loosely spreading out and around him like rays of the sun.

"Says who?" Kiara scoffed as she sat up, a cloud blocking his rays. Most of the class had packed their stuff, leaving a few chatty stragglers beside the duo. She gathered her things before standing up and looking at the blonde. Looking up at him, she never noticed how much she needed to tilt her head back. Why did he look like he was glowing under the fluorescent lighting? His honey-glazed skin was smooth and supple, with the faintest freckles on his cheeks.

"Considering the fact that we've survived an hour of pretending we could tolerate being close to each other, let alone touching each other, I'll take that as a win," Jimin smirked while folding his arms over his chest.

"Fucking perv," Kiara grumbled. "You liked putting your grimy little fingers on me, didn't you?"

"Don't act like you didn't enjoy it. I saw your face."

Kiara's eyes went wide for a moment before she unknowingly mirrored Jimin's stance by folding her arms over her chest as she shifted her weight to one foot. "I have not the slightest idea of what you're talking about."

The blonde couldn't help but smile as he watched her lips form into a subtle pout, her chin tilting upwards as she tried her hardest to appear snobby. Too bad she couldn't sell it. All she managed to do was look cute. "Yeah, OK, Kiara. Whatever will help you sleep better at night."

"Of course, you would think about how I sleep." Kiara quipped. She didn't know why she always dragged out conversations with Jimin. All she had to do was ignore him and walk away, but something about his little jabs made her want to fight.

Jimin let out a loud scoff. "Don't flatter yourself. You live far from my thoughts at night."

Kiara's brows furrowed, not understanding why that comment would leave her with an uncomfortable pit in her stomach instead of swelling with relief. "Yeah OK." She bent over to pack up her equipment, knowing Jimin's eyes were gazing upon her. She slowly stood up again, regaining control of the situation. She could see how Jimin's eyelids had lowered, plump lips ever so slightly agape as if he was trying to breathe out the lingering desire in his system. "So we're just gonna pretend like you weren't just staring at me, right?"

Jimin's face suddenly twitched, like he was snapping himself back to reality. Heat followed afterward, flushing his skin with a pretty pink. Kiara giggled softly, causing his lips to tug into a small smile despite the embarrassment swimming through him. How the woman managed to shut him up, not once, but twice now, was beyond him. Jimin was the king of clapbacks. There wasn't a soul that could escape his wicked tongue until he met the beautiful girl with wild hair and a smile that could light up even the darkest of nights. He could only sigh, feigning annoyance though he was rather impressed.

"You really think I was staring at you?"

"I know it."

Jimin didn't bother testing his luck again. Something about her threw him off his game, which was not his proudest moment. The blonde couldn't do much but watched as she swayed her hips, strolling towards the door until she stopped suddenly.

"Guess you'll have something to think about at night now," Kiara said just as she walked out of the room. Jimin's jaw fell slightly before he collected himself, scoffing quietly. A part of him was tempted to follow after, to continue the banter they had fallen into.

But he knew better than that.

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thebluestbluewords · 2 years ago

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Rhyming is hard

This is about 90% an excuse for me to write Banter, 9% jokes about murder, 1% plot. I wrote the dialogue for this over a year ago, and scavenged it from my drafts to clean up yesterday.

“Mirror, feel my evil presence,” Evie chants, clutching the mirror in one hand like it’s a call phone. “Show me the location of our parents.”

“That’s seriously the rhyme you’re going with?” Mal asks, leaning over the table to stare at the mirror as Evie sets in down in the middle of their huddle.

Evie frowns. “What do you think rhymes with parents?”

Mal’s nose scrunches up as she thinks. “Errants? Aberrants?“ she offers. “Um, clearance?”

“Insurance,” Jay adds. “Which won’t help against theft here, cause apparently they’re all too good for that. Don’t buy a phone from the guy in town unless you’re okay with getting it stolen, by the way.”

“Don’t tell me that.” Ben says firmly, leaning over Evie’s head to see the mirror as well. The black smoke curls angrily, like the magic contained in the mirror is trying to escape the glass and smash their faces in for daring to use it for frivolous things like checking up on their parents, and then begins to clear.

“Incoherence?” Carlos offers, drumming the very tips of his fingers on the table. “I think your rhyme was good though, Evie. I’m just offering suggestions for next time.”

“Shut up, it’s working.” Mal gasps, pushing him out of the way as the smoke inside the mirror swirls into the beginnings of a clear picture.

The background resolves itself first, into a deep grey wall made of rough stone. The figure standing in front of it is small in stature, which is made all the more obvious by the gigantic crow sitting on her shoulder.

“My mother,” Mal says, sounding almost disappointed. “As alive and evil as ever.”

“Didn’t need a mirror for that one, babe.” Evie says fondly. “Pretty sure we all remember what she looks like, considering that she’s been the bane of our existence for the last sixteen years.”

Mal, on the pretense of leaning closer to the mirror, puts her hand over Evie’s on the table, interlacing their fingers. “Maybe Ben wanted to know, and also shut up. It’s changing.”

The mirror is changing, but not to a nicer sight. The background darkens, and the view of Maleficent monologuing to Diablo fades out. The background turns a nasty, muddy shade of grey-brown, and the figure visible in the mirror doesn’t look much nicer. He’s filthy, for one thing, and he’s wearing a collection of leather scraps that would be better suited to a scarecrow than a living person.

He’s also swinging a shovel at the wall with what looks like increasing violence, and his hair is on fire.

“Dear old dad,” Mal drawls. “Great to see him expanding the cave for once.”

“Is that Hades?” Ben asks, in a tone that could generously be described as ‘strangled’.

Mal laughs. “Yeah. My mom wanted a powerful kid. She didn’t pick him cause he’s a great father, she picked him ‘cause he’s one of the most powerful entities on the isle. And I guess ‘cause he was DTF, or whatever. Chernabog isn’t much for procreation.”

“Wow.”

“I can’t raise the dead or anything,” Mal explains, eyes still locked on the mirror. “Not even a fly. I just get some sick highlights in my hair when I use his fire, and some cool shit happened with a ouija board once.”

“That’s, uh, cool!” Ben manages, before the mirror swirls again, and a new face comes into view.

“The Evil Queen,” Carlos says, reaching out to touch the side of the mirror. “Do you think the mirror’s showing her in better light because it’s magic and it likes her better, or does her castle just have better lighting?”

“Mother’s castle has flattering light,” Evie says, but it’s her turn to stare at the mirror, eyes blank and lips slightly, beautifully parted. “She keeps it that way on purpose. For visitors.”

“Not that you got many.”

Mal’s hand is warm and firm over Evie’s own. Her exile should be an old wound by now, but even old injuries, even ones that can be treated softly now, still ache sometimes.

In the surface of the mirror, the Evil Queen is stabbing a needle, over and over, into the soft flesh on the inside of her legs. Behind her, there’s an intimidatingly large stone cauldron resting on a low fire.

“Is she—“

“She’s fine,” Evie says quickly. She’s still staring at the mirror, but she’s looking through it now, like she can’t bear to see her mother through the magic. “That’s what she does, most days. She’s just waiting while the cauldron heats up.”

“Pretty fucked up.”

“It’s not anything magical,” Evie says, but her voice is soft and she’s still focused on the mirror. “It’s acupuncture. She’s doing it for weight loss. And the cauldron isn’t magical either, it’s just some makeup compounds that don’t come over on the barges.”

Jay whistles, low and long. “That’s a pretty big cauldron for some makeup, princess.”

Evie startles out of her stare. “Oh, we sold it. She’s not boiling children’s skulls or anything like that. It’s a foundation base. She boils down some of the plants that come over and then adds pigments for each customer. It’s a pretty good business practice, and if we didn’t like somebody it was really easy to sneak something a little bit nastier than just pigment into their bottle.”

“Oh.” Ben says. He’s leaning over Evie’s shoulder to see the mirror, and he doesn’t pull back, but his shoulders tense at the mention of Evie’s mother slipping something untoward into a bottle. He’s got sort of a thing about poisons and edible spells, which is understandable. “I see.”

“Evil, babe,” Evie reminds him, tipping her chin up to look him in the face. “We didn’t exactly have a lot of other options.”

Unseen by Evie, the mirror swirls again. This time, it reforms to show a crumpled skeleton, surrounded by pieces of rusty metal.

“Uh, who’s that?” Ben asks after a moment, staring over Evie’s shoulder again. He looks a bit like someone watching a car wreck happening, but in a casual way. Like watching a car wreck on TV, maybe.

Evie glances back down at the mirror, and then recoils visibly at the pile of bones. “Oh, ew. I guess I didn’t word the request very well. That’s my father’s corpse.”

“Is that a dungeon?”

“It’s my mother’s dungeon, yes.” Evie explains. “She had my father killed down there shortly after I was born.”

“I’m sorry.”

Evie shrugs. “Thanks, I guess. She had him killed when I was a baby, so it’s not like I ever got to know him.”

Mal drops her head onto Evie’s shoulder. “Not like he was a big loss.”

“Come on, M,” Evie says fondly, tipping her head so that it rests on top of Mal’s, just for a moment. “Just because you don’t like your father doesn’t mean we all have to hate ours.”

“You never knew yours!” Mal points out. “And he was a man, E. We all know what men on the island are like.”

“I could have liked him.” Evie insists. “He might have been better that your dad. Not everyone is a bad parent.”

“Right, just everyone on the isle, then.”

“I know my dad,” Jay adds, leaning over to insert himself into the girl’s space. “Not to sway our data here, but I agree with Mal. There’s way more bad parents on the island than good ones, and my dad’s shit. Mal’s dad is shit. Evie’s dad is dead, so he’s not doing great either—“

“It’s changing again!” Carlos points out, smacking the table next to where Evie’s set the mirror down in order to argue better.

Five heads snap back to attention as the mirror swirls, and reforms into quite a different view. The background this time is bright grey, the color of the sky on a rainy spring day, the sort of day where the sun is trying and failing valiantly at breaking through the cloud cover. There’s a shop in the foreground, with a garish pink and green sign declaring it to be ‘the goblin mud spa’, and a bright copper car parked out front. There’s a woman in the front seat of the car, holding the steering wheel with one hand, and balancing a dirty glass in the fingertips of the other.

Carlos makes a soft, sad sort of noise. “…oh.”

On the surface of the mirror, his mother throws back the remainder of her drink.

“Is that normal?” Ben asks, leaning in to get a better look. “Drinking and driving isn’t exactly legal.”

Carlos’s hands aren’t visible, but there’s a sense of nervous, fidgety energy from him anyway. “…Yeah. She does that a lot. Goes away, drinks a lot, comes back stupid.”

“Magic mirror, move on,” Evie whispers, after they all stare for a long moment at the unmoving view of Cruella and her beloved car.

“Why isn’t it changing?” Mal asks. “It didn’t show my mom for this long.”

“You don’t wanna know,” Carlos mumbles, around the fingertip he’s got in his mouth. There’s a drop of blood smeared on the corner of his mouth, and it’s not entirely clear if his hand was bleeding before or after he started chewing on it. “Trust me.”

Mal frowns. “I totally do. Telling me I don’t want to know something is basically like slapping a neon sign on it telling me to keep digging until I find out. How do you not know know this already?”

Carlos sighs, and reaches out with his other hand to hover his index finger just over the surface of the mirror, above where his mother is pulling the strap of her soft leather purse over her shoulder. “That’s my dad. Human remains count, and that leather she used for her purse is the biggest piece of him left.”

Mal tries to recoil away from the mirror. but they’re so tightly packed around the table that she really just ends up shoving herself harder into Evie’s side. “Oh, gross. That can’t be hygienic.”

Carlos stares at her. “It’s leather. Humans aren’t any different than cows inside. Is wearing cow leather gross?”

Mal’s pale cheeks are somehow even paler than usual. “Yes,” she snaps. “It’s different.”

“It’s fine, you just have to process it properly,” Carlos says, leaning ever so slightly closer to her. “And besides, it’s not like there were any concerns about fluid bonding when she scraped the flesh off his skin. They’d already been there, done that, had a kid to prove it.”

“Gross,” Mal groans, burying her face in Evie’s shoulder. Conveniently, Evie’s wearing her coat with the mini caplet attached today, and Mal pulls the extra leather over her head. “You ever heard of a thing called TMI?”

Carlos smiles, but it’s not a very nice expression. More like an animal showing their teeth. “Evil, remember?”

“That’s horrible.” Ben says firmly. “I don’t mind knowing, but it’s still awful, and I’m glad you’re not there anymore.”

“Yeah, well,” Carlos mumbles, sitting back now that his point’s been made. “It’s changing again.”

The mirror clouds over with dark swirls, and clears to an image of Jafar, standing behind the counter of a shop while a woman in an emerald green dress examines a handful of jewelry that’s spread over the counter between them.

Jay waves a hand at the mirror, middle finger firmly up.

Ben laughs. “I take it there’s no lost love there?”

Jay grins. He’s still flipping off the image of Jafar in the mirror, even as the picture shows him carefully slipping one of the rings onto the woman’s finger, mouth moving like he’s flattering her the whole time. “Nah. Not really. He’s charming and all, but not a great parent, you know?”

Ben’s nodding before the words are even finished. “Yeah, that’s fair,” he agrees. “My dad isn’t exactly warm and fuzzy either.” Mal’s mother might be charming when she wants to be, and Evie’s mother is beautiful and dangerous and enticing, but Ben’s father has made a career out of walking the line between being loved and being feared, and neither of those things has made him the kind, attentive parent that Ben needed. Even more than the others, he can understand the pressure of having a career politician for a parent. “I wish you’d been able to get away sooner.”

“Me too,” Mal agrees, reaching across Evie to tap her fingers on one of the scars that runs, white and twisted and bold, across Jay’s wrist. “Your dad’s a dick.”

The mirror swirls again; the picture resolves into a patch of ocean. Very deep, dark, empty ocean.

“Is that the ocean?” Evie asks, staring. “I didn’t think any of our parents were the sort to get murdered by pirates.”

Jay makes a funny sort of choking noise. “That’s my mom,” he says, eyes locked on the mirror. Under the glass, the ocean undulates with the great swells of very deep, open water. “She drowned herself.”

“I thought the spell prevented that?” Ben asks curiously. “The spell was supposed to prevent anyone from dying under the barrier.”

Jay snaps his head up to look at Ben, and if his eyes are a little red, well, nobody else is close enough to notice.

“The spell doesn’t work all the time,” he explains, voice low and even. “You can get around it if you destroy the body. Scatter the remains, or burn them beyond what the spell can handle, or let the sharks deal with you. People who really want that way out usually go with the sharks.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jay lifts a shoulder. “It is what it is. Can’t blame her for taking the only way out.”

“Still.”

Evie’s gasp breaks whatever sympathetic moment might have happened, and her hand shoots out quicker than a snake to grab the mirror as it starts to shift again.

“Oh? Magic mirror, what—“

The picture solidifies before she can finish the command. A beige room, with a man sitting at a desk comes into view.

“Why—“ Mal starts, but Ben is faster, and he leans down over Evie’s shoulder to tip the mirror up for a better view.

“That’s my dad?” Ben says, sounding thoroughly confused by the discovery. “He’s not— he’s just sitting in his office. He’s not on the isle of the lost or anything like that.”

Evie tips the mirror back down towards herself. “Ah, I guess I didn’t specify well enough when I said whose parents we wanted to see. My bad, Ben. You got caught up in the spell too.”

“Are we going to see your mom next?”Mal demands, shoving her head further into Evie’s space to get a clear view of the mirror, which really isn’t large enough to be seen by five people at once, especially not when two of them are sitting on the same chair. “What does she do all day?”

“I….don’t know,” Ben says slowly. “I guess we’ll see. I think she hangs out in the library, mostly. With grandpa, if she doesn’t have state duties to do with my dad.”

The mirror swirls, and the surface turns brilliant, spring green.

“It looks like she’s outside?”

Sure enough, Queen Belle is standing outside, in the center of a ring of trees. There’s a book in her hand, and as she reads, she rocks back and forth slightly, her mouth moving around the shape of words that the mirror can’t play for them. Or possibly won’t. Evie’s been working on control of her powers, but when the spell is board enough to sweep a whole extra person in their attempt to see what their parents are up to, it’s possible that asking the mirror to help them ‘see’ their parents was a bit too literal. Or maybe the mirror can only do auditory assistance when it’s coming from the whole mirror, and not just the broken shard Evie keeps in her palm-sized frame. Maybe some of the magic was lost when her mother ground the shard to size, or maybe the magic is weaker than it should be, and there’s something deeply wrong with the state of magic in Auradon.

Or maybe they’re just not very good at directing spells yet.

Ben slaps his hand on the table. “Oh, that’s the glade above the lake!” he exclaims. “It’s enchanted. No wonder the mirror showed her too.”

Mal frowns. “You have an enchanted glade?”

Ben beams at her. “Yeah! It’s up the trail from the enchanted lake a bit. Kind of by the cliffs up there. It’s really pretty in the fall, when the leaves are all changing. I guess she’s been riding out there sometimes. It’s one of the most magical places in the kingdom.”

“She looks pretty happy,” Evie says thoughtfully. “D’you think that’s why the magic included her?”

“Yeah, guess so.” Ben says, shrugging. “I don’t really understand magic, but I know the glade is supposed to be one of the most magically powerful sites in the kingdom. It’s a nice place to read, I guess?”

“Ben.” Mal says sharply, as the image of Queen Belle turns, book still in hand. “Why is your mother reading a spell book?”

#my fic #descendants fic #rotten ot4 #only it’s actually very heavily implied ot5 because I know what I am about #descendants #mal bertha #evie grimhilde #jay son of jafar #carlos de vil #ben florian

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mannatea · 2 days ago

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part 4!

First of all, "the Scouring" sounds like the most genocidal war name to ever exist. We love the idea of some heroes, but how heroic were these eight heroes, exactly?

Also, 980ish years of peace is insane.

Anyway, our heroes:

Hartmut founded Bern.

St. Elimine's name flourishes in Etruria with artisans.

Hannon's legacy lives on in Sacae.

Knight Barigan was born in Ilia.

Durban's final glory was to create a warrior's clan in the Western Isles.

Archsage Athos retired to the barren wasteland of Nabata.

The heirs of the champion Roland became the lords of the Lycian League.

And then we have our final hero who hasn't been mentioned yet (ayyy)!

I find it super interesting that Elimine has been sainted. I mean, goofy jokes aside, you can't really have saints without some Catholicism so I guess these guys are all Catholic! Or at least, Etruria is.

Though, when you look at the prologue, Kent says (about the shrine to the Mani Katti) that he's glad the "ancient customs" are still being observed in Sacae.

I mostly find this interesting because deep down in my bones I have the Shipper Tee-Hees 🤭(and Kent being open-minded in this way is a good thing for that), but also...it must mean something? It's been 980 years! At this point, does everyone just assume that the traditions in Sacae are the original way of doing things? And, for that matter, are they? Are we meant to think that Sacae stayed pretty similar to the traditional way of life there while Lycia and Etruria and even Bern have changed with the times? Is Kent just a huge history nerd??? Am I overthinking this? (Shhh, shhhhh...I know the answer is yes.)

Elimine being sainted and everyone turning toward using her name as an explicative is something we fanfic writers love to see in worldbuilding, but what is she the patron saint of? The arts? There should be other saints? Is she the first and only saint? I feel like for MAXIMUM WORLDBUILDING I need more. Or at least, I need for Lycia, Bern, Etruria, and Ilia to all feel like completely separate countries with differences in culture vibes other than the most obvious stuff.

THEN AGAIN, I'm pretty sure I remember Roland's name mentioned in a similar way. IMO, all of the heroes should have been sainted. SHUT UP I KNOW I AM THINKING TOO MUCH ABOUT THIS.

One last thing. Roland. Just due to the intro text here about Roland, we know one thing: Roland canonically FUCKED. A LOT. Bro had so many children he scattered them throughout the land.

But like, it wasn't as if the world wasn't already inhabited? Judging by the map, I could see where Bern and Lycia might not have been much of anything (the mountain ranges kind of cut them off), but still. I'm picturing Roland with his 12 wartime born children like, okay...and you get a castle. and YOU get a castle. AND YOU GET A CASTLE! WHO BUILT THEM THOUGH.

ONe YEAR LATER!!!!

First of all...<3 Marcus!

Also there's something here about Elbert's disappearance (that he disappeared with a loyal retinue) that should be making all of the game's loyal knight characters feel some type of way, especially once Elbert dies. But I'll get to that later lol.

Like my guy is gone a month and rumors of his death start flying around? Bruh. It would take that long to get to Ostia.

Also, love how all these Pheraens have diadems lol.

OKAY time to be serious though. Realizing all the best knights have vanished, it makes sense for ne'er-do-wells to start causing problems. Like what's the castle going to do, send a bunch of squires? LOL OKAY.

Also I notice that Lowen calls Marcus "Commander"—I wonder if this title is the same rank that Kent holds, and if so, it makes sense that it's such a big deal that Kent has it. Marcus is far older. (But it's not like Caelin had a lot of choice since their ranks were devastated and God knows what they had to do with all the traitors, but we'll get to that.)

Eliwood thanking providence for reuniting with Mark? How religious coded of him.

Rebecca! She's honestly so cute. Speaking of cute...

Bartre is honestly adorable?? Him being over-talkative?? He's a cool dude.

Look at my Eliwood's first level up:

AYYYYY

FUCK YOU

There's also something interesting here... with Laus.

That the magistrate's brother was in Laus until he fled just a few days ago (having lost everything) definitely says something. I guess Pherae is no Ostia...and neither is Caelin when you think about it. Stuff like this makes it even more understandable that Ostia is the head of the Lycian League and that they have a spy network.

It's just so obvious who the target is, lol. I mean, Caelin couldn't possibly be back on its feet again after everything that went down a year ago, and they are the only canton that has this issue, making them the easiest and weakest target.

This kind of goes back to how it would take literal years for Caelin to fix all of the issues that must have popped up following Lundgren's stupid uprising. The ranks of the military would have had to get reshuffled. You have Kent and Sain in charge of all of the knights who didn't turn traitor during the events of the prologue. No way could they possibly get enough new faces in to replace everyone lost or let go (or executed), let alone get them trained well enough to meet a strong military force. Caelin is going to be running on fumes.

I'm feral about Caelin leave me alone lol

#manna plays fe7

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duck-in-a-spaceship · 2 years ago

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say it back

More House M.D. fanfic! This time with ~chapters~ Also, this is mostly pre-written, so I should update pretty regularly. It's just four chapters, but if anyone wants to be tagged in future updates, lmk

Summary: What if when House tells Wilson he loves him, Wilson says it back?

Well, naturally they turn to humor until “I love you”, “I love you too” becomes the most convoluted, gayest inside joke ever. And then of course they realize they mean it.

Word Count: 2373

Warnings: Near-death experience

Next>>

+++

Chapter 1: Diagnosing the Afterlife

House is dead.

Well, alright, he probably isn’t, but he’s definitely on his way there.

And, in a way, that was his goal, so… hooray for him. If he ends up not-dead, he’ll have to host a celebration. A celebration where he proves that the afterlife, right before it collapses into nothingness, is just his office painted in a stark white.

Every pen, every picture, every fiber of carpet has had its color sucked away. Little details, grooves on the wood and dust on his knick knacks, have been consumed by the startling lack of color. Static, the one exception in the room, fizzles on House’s computer.

Outside of his office there’s true nothingness. A void of white shines on the other side of every window, every stupid pane of glass that surrounds him. If House’s body gives up, it’s easy to imagine me might end up walking out the glass doors and disintegrating into nothing.

It’s a tempting offer, if he thinks about it for too long, so House decides not to entertain it.

Instead, he pushes himself to his feet with his cane (it’s an action of habit, he notes; no pain burns in his leg) and crosses the room to his whiteboard.

“Alright team.” House addresses no one, uncaps the marker with a flourish. “Differential, go.”

“It’s not cancer. If it was, we wouldn’t be seeing-”

“No, not the patient.” In big, messy letters, House titles the board ‘Afterlife’. He taps the marker against the writing, turning around to face his suddenly materialized crew. Every single one of his potential employees is crammed into that room, shoulder-to-shoulder, knee-to-knee. One of the twins is sitting on the other's lap. If he looks at Big Love out of the corner of his eye, he starts to phase into Kutner. Not enough room in purgatory, apparently, for everyone to exist without physics breaking down. It was Cutthroat Bitch that felt the need to start giving him the wrong differential, and House points an accusatory marker her way. “You’re lucky that wasn’t actually you saying that, otherwise you’d be fired.”

She has the skill to look confused and offended at the same time. “That’s our patient. Who else are we supposed to be…?”

House turns back to his whiteboard.

“Right now, there’s not much I can do to help Toto and crippled Dorothy, and since none of you are real-” ‘White nothingness’, ‘Physics breakdown’ and ‘Familiar scenery’ are all added to the list as symptoms. “-there’s nothing you can do either.” The tip of his cane slams onto the ground to punctuate his point. It passes right through Taub’s foot. “Come on people! Differential!”

“You’re dead.” It’s Thirteen that pipes up that time, and House mentally fires her too.

“No I’m not. I’m almost dead. I’m on the tightrope with death, and the next person that says something stupid is going to be pushing me off.” Forget euphoria, forget the most ‘intense thing he’s ever done’, House’s version of almost dying was just a more migraine-inducing taste of reality.

“You’re having a near-death experience,” Taub corrects.

“Obvious, but not incorrect,” House grants him. “So, if this is near-death, then what’s that?” The tip of his cane moves up, through Taub, and points out the glass door into the shining abyss.

“That’s Wilson.”

“What?” House turns his head. Wilson is standing at the entrance to his office, the glass door to death still swinging closed behind him. He looks more real than anything House has seen since he stuck a knife into a socket. The applicants disappear. “Are you happy?” Wilson asks. He steps further into the room, bringing the gravitational pull of reality with him. Color flows into House’s office, shadows deepening every time Wilson’s foot hits the ground, details filling out where House hadn’t even noticed they were missing.

House blinks, and he’s suddenly seated at his desk, one foot propped up like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his cane mid-twirl in his hand. The only evidence that the past several minutes happened at all is the whiteboard still titled ‘Afterlife’, and the unnatural white still shining in from outside.

House fumbles with his cane, and it slips out of his fingers.

“Well?” Wilson demands. “Are you happy with yourself? Did you get your answer?”

“Well I was going to, if you hadn’t interrupted my differential.”

Wilson rolls his eyes. “Oh please, you were practically holding Taub’s hand. You already had your answer.” He leans down and picks up House’s cane, offering it to him by the handle. House drums his fingers on the desk, ignoring the gesture.

“Sure, but it’s more fun if you let them figure it out too. Sharing is caring, that’s what I always say.”

“House, take your damn cane.”

Well, it would be rude to turn down such a polite request. House snatches his cane from Wilson’s grip, and slams it into his foot.

“Ow! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Huh, real enough to feel pain, even. Take that, Taub. “This is the land of near-death,” House announces.

“Was that really necessary?”

Wilson’s question goes unanswered. “And that-” House once again points towards the white void that shines outside his windows. “-is death. All that nothingness. No God, no long-lost family members, no paradise, no heaven or hell. Just nothing.”

“And do you feel better now, with your proof that every dying patient clinging onto a little bit of hope is a moron?”

“Oh for sure, real weight off my shoulders. They’ll be thrilled to hear the news.” Pain runs up and down his leg like wires carrying electricity. It feels like his foot fell asleep, and now it’s waking up again, lighting his nerves on fire. House rubs one hand over the muscles, trying to relieve some of the tension, but it only makes him realize the pain is not limited to his leg. It burns in his hand as well, tingling in the palm and spreading out to sizzle in his fingers.

“Of course! What dying person doesn’t want their final comfort taken away?” Wilson is prattling on. “You should tell them their existence was meaningless next. That’ll really… Are you okay?”

“Well, I’m about to start living again, which is annoying.”

Wilson sighs, a comfortingly familiar sound. “Better than the alternative, at least.”

“We could just compromise. No dying, no living, I’ll just stay here. Become the new Coma Guy that my replacement can use as a table for his sandwiches.”

“Why would you want to stay here? I mean, no cases to solve, no Cuddy to torture, no team to play games with. You’d hate it here. It’s nothingness, it’s banal, it’s everything you try so hard to avoid.”

“Well the lack of pain has been nice. Besides, you’re still here for me to torture. I’d have you.”

Wilson shakes his head, briefly looking up at the ceiling before his eyes settle back on House. The pain in his leg is reaching reality-levels of excruciation, and the pain everywhere else is catching up fast. It makes it hard to focus, when Wilson walks around House’s desk, when he leans down so their faces are nearly touching.

He looks like he’s about to say something. He doesn’t, so House thinks about taking up the mantle instead. There’s something to be said here, he knows that. It’s what that eludes him.

Then again, maybe there isn’t something to say, because all the sudden, Wilson is kissing him.

House’s brain has run over time again. It skipped the part where Wilson settled on his lap, stuttered over the seconds where he placed one hand on House’s cheek, ignored the moment where he moved his other to House’s leg.

They must have happened, because they are happening, but the connective tissue is gone.

House decides it’s not really worth questioning, not at the moment at least.

Imagining kissing Wilson isn’t something House has liked to make a hobby of, but if he had ever given it a shot, he probably would’ve come up with something like this. Something with soft lips, with overeager zeal, with just enough gentleness to make House want more.

After a moment, a moment too long and a moment too soon, Wilson pulls away. House doesn’t know what to do but stare up at him in shock. He’s pretty sure he’s dying, now, but he doesn’t know how to say that, either.

Wilson sighs, pulling his hand away from House’s cheek. House tries to stop him, tries to grab onto his lingering fingers, but he must grab onto his sleeve instead, his hand closing on soft fabric. One of his ears is ringing, pulsating in what sounds like high-pitched beeps.

Wilson shakes his head, at least, he probably shakes his head. It’s getting a little hard to see, through the blinding white suddenly shining through the windows.

“You’re an idiot.”

It takes a moment for those words to sink in. More accurately, it takes a moment for House to realize that Wilson has said them out loud, that the brightness he’s squinting into is not a white void, but simply the hospital’s lights shining above him, that he’s not sitting at his desk, but in a bed. God it’s bright.

“You nearly killed yourself,” Wilson continues, as if they weren’t just having an entirely different conversation, an entirely different scene.

House blinks. Wilson is dressed differently, a simple dark green shirt instead of the lab coat he was just wearing, but other than that, he’s identical to the pseudo-Wilson House was just talking to, down to his expression: frustration mixed with annoyance mixed with concern. “That was the whole idea,” House points out.

“You wanted to kill youself?”

“I wanted to nearly kill myself,” House corrects. Wilson just stares, incredulous, the concern in his expression multiplying. Which is ridiculous. He should be relieved, all things considered. Trying to nearly kill himself was much better than the alternative.

House looks away. “Is he… better?” He has bigger things to worry about than Wilson’s concern. He can’t let this experiment have been for nothing.

Wilson just shakes his head, defeated. “No, but he doesn’t have cancer. We think it might be eosinophilic pneumonia. Maybe you didn’t want to die-” Oh great, he’s back on this and he hasn’t even answered the question. “-but you didn’t care if you lived.”

“You insisted that I needed to see for myself.”

Wilson pushes away from the stand, takes a couple steps to the side. Another admission of defeat.

“Was he discharged?” House presses.

“No, he’s dying.” Wilson comes to his bedside, turning to face him. “You’ve already had two near death experiences.”

“Not that guy.” Why does everyone think House wants to talk about his patient? “The- the guy in the car accident. With the knife. I… I need to talk to him.”

“He… died almost an hour ago.” Wilson says it like it’s obvious, like he’s confused why House would even be asking. “Apparently it’s bad to electrocute yourself within days of suffering massive internal injuries.”

Goddamnit. House presses his head against his pillow, closing his eyes. The one person he might like to talk to right now, have questions for, is dead.

“Why did you need to talk to him?” House doesn’t give Wilson an answer. What the hell is he supposed to say? I diagnosed the afterlife in my office? You were there? We made out at my desk? “Did you see something?” Wilson presses, and if House was just a little less rational, he would’ve swore that Wilson knew, somehow. Knew what he had seen, had been there, even.

“Eosinophilic pneumonia.” House opens his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. It’s easier, currently, than looking at Wilson. The old, dirty tiles are a strange comfort. The blinding lights are all-too familiar.

“House? What did you see?” Wilson asks. House doesn’t need to look at his face to know he’s switched to full-blown concern; it’s practically leaking out of his vocal chords. Can’t be healthy, really, having that much care for another human being.

“Nothing,” House answers on instinct. He looks over at Wilson. “Whose idea was that?”

“Brennan. Nothing you don’t want to talk about it, or nothing-?”

“Which one’s Brennan?” House cuts him off, and they’re back to their old dance, two conversations fighting for dominance. “Is he the ridiculously old guy?”

“House, you gotta talk about this.”

“If it’s aggressive enough, it might have gotten past the steroids.” House flexes his burnt hand, testing how far he can push the pain. “Start him on cyclophosphamide.”

“I already did.” Regret taints Wilson’s voice, although House isn’t exactly sure what he’s regretting. Encouraging him to try and get a taste of the afterlife? Not being able to convince House to open up about what he saw? Becoming friends with him in the first place? “Just looking at you hurts,” he continues, grabbing the clipboard from the side of House’s bed. “I’m gonna order up some extra pain meds.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” It takes Wilson a moment, it seems, to process what he’s just said. His pen slows on the paper before stopping completely, cutting whatever he was writing off short. “I mean- ah. Well you… you know what I mean.” He starts writing again, like that will somehow do away with the pink that has spread across his cheeks.

“Do I?” House tilts his head to the side, like he’s really considering the question, like it’s really something that needs his consideration. “Honestly, I’m not sure I do. Care to elaborate?”

“You’re an ass.” Wilson glares at him, but the effect is entirely ruined by how completely flustered he is.

“And yet, you love me.”

“You said you love me too!” He gestures with the clipboard, brandishing it at House like a weapon. “I can’t-” He cuts himself off with a sigh. “I’ll come back later to make sure you haven’t found some new way to kill youself.”

“I’ll miss every second you’re away, darling!”

“Goodbye House!” The glass door clangs shuts behind him.

House smiles, looking back up to the dirtied tile and bright lights. Maybe his little brush with death wasn’t such a waste after all.

#writing #my writing #fanfiction #house md #house md fanfiction #james wilson #greg house #hilson #season 4 episode 3 #this is basically just them playing gay chicken ngl #theyre dumb i love them #fake wilson already knows whats up we just need the real deal to catch on #i feel like house had to have seen something when he almost died #he was being SO evasive #house md spoilers

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hrokkall · 2 years ago

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I've considered it before tbh but also its fun to come up with different ways to ask for my faves

Speaking of faves~ how about ????

-🥊

They’re my favorite Hex character too (not counting Rebecha) so I’m more than happy to do this for them

Favorite thing about them: I genuinely love their character design—the use of the missing texture “?” that appears with some engines for their face is really clever (and also I just like “silhouette” type characters in general—a character who is mostly just a black featureless figure but with maybe one or two defining characteristics is my favorite sort of character design. So maybe I’m biased in that regard).

Least favorite thing about them: You can’t see their shoes in Walk? That was one of two parts of their character model that are actually textured—we should be able to look down and see their shoes when they walk too (then again I haven’t played a lot of actual walking simulators so I don’t know if that’s par-for-the-course or not. Still though, it was shown on their 2D model, it should be shown on their 3D model too, damn it!)

Favorite line: I’d love to be funny here but ???, by merit of not having a mouth, doesn’t speak. I will say though I think it’s incredible how they still manage to have so much personality despite not actually having any dialogue. The subtle variation in the length of ellipsis/the text speed was a really cool way of showing that without expressions.

(Though why they didn’t just… write things down though is beyond me—guess the Six-Pint Inn doesn’t have any pens and cocktail napkins).

brOTP: I already talked about this in the Rebecha post, but I genuinely think the two of them would be good friends. Rebecha’s pretty neutral on everyone, it’d be nice if she actually had someone she could talk casually with instead of everyone else talking at her like usual. Plus she’s the only one who actually refers to FPP with a name (even if it’s pretty clearly a placeholder, “Faceless Joe” definitely isn’t something FPP picked personally) and acknowledges their existence outside of extreme suspicion. They interact Literally Once so there’s no real basis for it but I just think they should be friends, y’know?

OTP: I don’t ship them with anyone. (To the surprise of everyone reading this, I’m sure (I say that sarcastically))

nOTP: Haven’t seen any ships for this guy at all. As per usual I probably wouldn’t hate any if I saw them either (provided people aren’t being freaks but I hope that’s a given).

Random headcanon: I’m sure this is a pretty standard headcanon among all 3.5 people who have played the Hex but I generally use they/them for this guy just because I feel they’d want to establish themself as a separate person from just “stand-in for Lionel” and for them pronouns are a part of that—just to say “I’m not Lionel and I’m not really a man either.” I don’t know, it just feels right.

Unpopular opinion: Considering there’s maybe five people total who played the Hex I don’t think there’s any unpopular opinions for this guy.

Song I associate with them: The obvious joke answer is I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) by The Proclaimers but I’d rather give an actual answer too. I’ll tentatively say Protagonist by They Might Be Giants (which is equally a Lionel song, but it feels like something they’d have to hear about on the daily). And I’ll add Vow of Silence by Lemon Demon too, why not.

Favorite picture of them: There’s unfortunately not many pictures of FPP; I’d love to snag a picture of their model from Walk because that’s my favorite part of the Hex stylistically, but… that’s not exactly feasible on account of the fact that they’re Just Hands. So instead here’s their equally minimalist steam emote.

#Re: Inbox #🥊 Anon #Ask meme #Hexposting

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alexanicholsauthor · 2 years ago

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Questions To Ask A Wild Rampaging Alexa...

Ripped from the website Ponly

What books can you recommend?

So many. My favorites are the Satanic Bible by Anton Szandor Lavey, The Great and Secret Show by Clive Barker, and numerous other occult and metaphysical books... my interests are all over the place!

What was the last joke that made you laugh?

I tend to laugh at everything, especially TikTok videos and memes. I can't even remember.

How would you characterize your best friend?

Selfless and brave.

Do you have a character you often compare yourself to?

No. I'm too weird to even attempt that!

Do you spend weekends with your family?

I try, but most of the time, I can't. I make up for this during the week as much as possible. Of course, my 'family' pretty much amounts to my baby squirrel and my big brother, so...

Who is your favorite foreign singer?

Shakira!

What was the last fear you were able to overcome?

It took me a while to think of an answer to this. Not because I don't have any fears, of course, but because most of the things I would consider 'fears' were conquered a looong time ago. I think the last fear I conquered would have to be social media. For most of my life, I didn't partake in it; I didn't see the need. That and all the horror stories I kept hearing acted as a serious deterrent. Now? I practically live on Twitter.

What is the weirdest game you have ever played?

Harvester. I loved, hated, and was creeped out by it - all at the same time.

What is the most mind-blowing piece of art you have ever seen?

I'm amazed by most forms of art, especially those done with obvious passion. I'm a huge fan of passion; it makes for fantastic creative works.

What is your favorite computer game?

Skyrim! Though The Witcher 3 is rapidly moving up on my list of favorites.

What things would you like to change in the world?

1. Racism. It baffles me how something as simple as skin pigment can make people feel at odds with one another. We seem to be the only creatures on the planet that does this... why?

2. Sexism. The idea that just because I'm female, I am somehow less than or weaker. Physically, yes, I understand, but there are far more important things than physical strength. In today's society, physical strength is low on the totem poll.

3. Religious entitlement. Just because someone has a different religion than you doesn't mean they are any better or worse. They are simply different. That would be like hating someone because they eat American cheese and you don't. Food tastes are different depending on the person... so is religion.

What dish would you never be able to refuse?

Eggs Benedict. They are the bane of my existence (health-wise).

What type of stereotypes are you most sick of?

That women are or should be subservient to men. That we like to be catcalled and anointed with endearing names like 'honey' or 'dear' by absolute strangers. That we want to be hit on or touched by people we don't even know. That we want unsolicited pictures of dicks.

Is there something you are afraid of asking in public?

I hate asking people for anything, even small, simple things. My big brother scolds me for this all the time. He says I have too much pride; I say I'm fiercely independent. That 'pride' has made me strong, self-sufficient, and smarter than your average. However, I do see his point: I can sometimes get overzealous...

If you could start this day anew, what would you do?

Find ways to get even more accomplished than I did. I'm huge on efficiency.

Between DC and Marvel, what would you choose?

Marvel. I don't think I've ever read a DC comic, while at one point I was actually collecting Marvel!

What is/was your favorite class at school?

Athletics. I've always been naturally athletic, so this was my favorite class. Academically, it would have to be English. Especially when we studied classical literature, like myths and pantheons. I fell in love with writing because of those.

What do you think happiness consists of?

True Friendship.

When you feel there is someone annoying at a party, how do you react?

I actively avoid/ignore them.

Have you ever had an urge to leave your city and live somewhere in the countryside surrounded by rivers and magnificent mountains?

Oh, hell no. I am way too bougie to make it in the country! I love my conveniences; there is no way I could live without them. I mean, I COULD, but I definitely wouldn't like it!

Do you have an animal you adore?

Dragons. I've always had a deep fascination with them, even when I was a little girl. If you're talking about real animals, it would have to be dogs. I love them so much. I like cats too, but I adore dogs way more.

Hearing a well-respected person criticizing your loved one, what would you do?

Light. Them. Up!

What is your happiest childhood memory?

I have so many that it would be difficult to emphasize just one. Most include my big brother; very few have anything to do with my 'parents.'

What is the thing you are most grateful for?

Life.

Would you never try rather than die trying?

I try to never say never, but skydiving is high on the list. And Bungie jumping.

Have you ever had any experiences to meet your favorite artist?

I don't have a favorite artist. More on that in a bit.

Can you cut relationships with people pulling you down?

Yes. I have a history of it. In fact, I've become good at it!

What is your dream job?

Being a writer.

What makes you feel proud of yourself?

Completing a story and then receiving feedback on said story. I put a lot of work into my works, so when it's all finally finished and in the hands of my readers - and they take time out of their lives to give me their opinions on it - bliss. I mean, they could be doing anything else, but they used their precious time to read one of my works. Fucking mind blowing!

What inspires you the most?

My baby squirrel. This little wench has not only beat cancer and was a trooper throughout the entire thing but also quit smoking and drinking cold turkey. I am honestly in awe of her, and she inspires the shit out of me when I'm undertaking, well, anything.

Do you think money can buy happiness?

Actually, yes. I know conventional wisdom says 'no,' but I believe it can.

What is your favorite flower?

Actually, I'm not too fond of flowers. Venus fly traps, maybe? Black Dahlias? Black roses?

What are three words that make you smile?

I love you. I could insert some weird or funny answers, but honestly, those three words mean a lot to me. They always put a smile on my face (not when said by strangers, though. That's creepy).

Can you name a place where you have never been to but wish to go?

Japan! (That one was so easy 😄)

What human qualities do you cherish?

Loyalty and honesty.

What language do you want to learn?

Japanese!

Who is the person you admire?

I admire several people, but I'm going to assume you mean "the most." That would be my big brother.

What is your favorite midnight cocktail?

I don't drink alcohol, and even when I did, I never drank cocktails. So I have no idea.

What is the best advice you have ever received?

This is easy: "Don't gamble anything you can't afford to lose."

Who is your favorite artist?

I don't have favorite artists of any genre of work; I have favorite works. And they are legion. I've always wondered about people that are fans of other people, stating that everything they make is golden. That isn't possible, nor is it true. Yes, you can have artists that resonate with you more often than not and be fond of those artists, but I don't. Not truly.

How do you deal with criticism?

It honestly depends on the person and reason. I firmly believe in the Rorschach (ink blot) test, which states that people project themselves onto you. Their observations, tone, and worldview are truly representative of the way they think and how they see themselves. People will snitch themselves off pretty quickly if you allow them to speak long enough.

#indieauthor #Author #amediting #amwriting #amliving

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goblincow · 2 years ago

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Deeply relatable to me. I get incredibly exhausted any time I see someone proudly claim that they don't give a shit or even believe men are oppressed by the gender binary. Because obviously men do get a massive upper hand and benefit from the power imbalance but it's not like I was given a choice? I don't want it? It's restrictive and actively harmful to me too?

Like it's crazy to me that there are conservative feminists (like I get where they come from but those ideologies are so wildly contradictory, conservative feminism can never be meaningfully feminist) and they would tell you a guy like me or nick offernan has no right to speak on it. But you can't challenge the patriarchy and refuse to understand that it's bad for men too & you cant want it to change and stay the same. Like that's literally just perpetuating the patriarchy.

This should be no surprise to literally any trans person and I should hope it would be obvious to all queer people too – hell I want to live in the world where cishet people understand this as well because then gender dissolves and we're all free woohoo happily ever after (not a joke).

But yeah gender as its widely imagined is clearly a social construct & tool of patriarchal power and it sucks for EVERYONE except those who are in positions of power, who embrace it for obvious reasons. Obviously this applies to all men to some extent regardless of any attempt to reject it but like, only because it's forced on us in the first place? I want actual equality please, I don't want anyone to have more power than anyone else? And that can't happen as long as the gender binary is so rigidly enforced. Like honestly while you could argue that binary broadly fits *most* people (and honestly I'm really not sure I believe that) it necessarily restricts all of those people too.

I'm a radical feminist (NOT the genocidal fake kind, you know the evil fuckers I'm talking about) partly because it's in my own personal interest to be – and a prerequisite of that is understanding that gender oppression affects all people because literally every single human being to ever exist has had their own unique genders & pretending otherwise must either be naive or malicious, and obviously both of those (intentions aside) have the same result: the worst people on the planet continue to hoard power and control the rest of us by denying us the very ability to conceive of our identities and shape who we are. Hmm where have I seen that before? 👀

They get to decide who we get to be on our behalf (and obviously their interests and ours do not align) and a major tool for doing that is this perpetuation of what's essentially a myth about what human beings inherently are and are capable of being. All working class people suffer from the binary gender lie, and frankly I dont give a shit if the ruling class suffers from it too because the same rules and laws don't apply to them and for any of us to be free from this they need to cease to exist. Failing to understand the obvious class implications there is antithetical to any effort to collectively do anything about it. While women are "more oppressed" as a social class than men (a loaded term for sure, and there's certainly nuance there that theorists I haven't read have dug into, but for all intents and purposes here I think it's a pretty uncontroversial statement), ultimately we're all insignificant peasants and second class citizens and the differences between us are meaningless at that scale – it's just a matter of how efficiently we can all be exploited.

We're all the working class regardless of our genders and the people who benefit most from the gender binary are the ruling classes. They reap the vast majority of the rewards for it and we are so far beneath them that whatever differences there are in the material experience of living as a working class man or woman are so small that I'd honestly be surprised if they even registered at the scale required to see the big picture – I should be clear here that I am NOT saying there is no material difference and it IS obviously fucking huge at any scale that we mere peasants will ever get to experience: I am instead saying that we can't ever address it without understanding that we're all crushed to an indistinguishable pulp at the bottom of the hierarchy.

But yeah doesnt this all sound really familiar? Can't you apply this framework to all forms of oppression and develop greater class consciousness because of it? Doesnt that help you understand how crucial intersectionalism is? It's divide & rule folks, do you think it's an accident that women's opression is deeply tied to the home & childcare and yet this work is not compensated and free childcare does not exist? Do you think it's an accident that disabled women of colour experience even more of it? The ruling class NEEDS us not to understand this shit. They NEED it to control us and acknowledging the reality is the only way we can collectively do fuck all about it.

Class dismissed! 🫡

Yo why did I put this in the tags. At least I got to give it a second draft.

I want to be free too & none of us can be until we all are. We've got to understand the functions of all oppression under capitalism if we hope to achieve it and that means understanding that opression for any of us means oppression for all. You get me.

I want to be free too.

Have I mentioned how much I love Nick Offerman?

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stargazeraldroth · 1 year ago

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Hm… I’m curious- How does 404 even know Ink? Assuming he actually knows him at all, of course- Did he wanna be Ink’s rival when they were younger, only to get upstaged by Error? We’re they friends and 404 just got way, way too possessive? Does he actually think Ink is in love with him, or does he not care about that? Do Ink and Error even know he exists, or is this a case of, like, erotomania or something?

Does Didi factor into it at all- What does she think of Error and 404?

Congrats, Anon, you did it. You made me look up what erotomania is. Not like it's dramatic or anything, since I know some similar words (such as nymphomania), but still. I didn't even know this was a word. For those who don't know what that word means, it's basically just an excessive desire to smash like hell.

And you know what? Yes. Yes he does. He's also a fricking yandere, for that matter. But the erotomania isn't that important, it'd really just be like, trivia or subtext or some crap. I know I said that there would be more mature content in the Pokemon AU, such as Pokemon experimentation (*cough* Didi *cough*) and potentially even character death, but I don't know how I feel about adding any kind of NSFW content. If I do, it'd most likely be in the form of adult jokes, like the ones hidden in cartoons or something.

I actually forget what the plan for 404 was, so I'm just gonna be pulling everything out of the trenches of my memory and my ass. I think one of the ideas was that 404 was gonna be one of the students that went to the same academy as Ink, Error, and others. 404's a strong trainer in his own right, but battling also isn't his strongest passion. I'm thinking he's kinda like Colress. I'd say he and Ink at least knew each other, maybe they were classmates, but drifted apart due to different paths- Ink went on to become a Champion and 404's working as a scientist. The important thing with the Cult is that they're all pretty delusional, which should be obvious by their goal of obtaining perfection by any means (and what the frick they're doing), so 404 is very much delusional about what could be. I like to think that 404 and Error were always rivals, even when Ink wasn't in the picture, and the fact that Error married Ink just rubbed salt in the wound for 404.

Astral Mother: And then we'll kill Ink, one of our greatest opponents-

404: NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Astral Mother:

X-Gaster (he's also here, completely separate from normal Gaster):

404:

Astral Mother: ... Fine. You can keep him.

404: YAY :D

Didi is actually very crucial to the storyline, more than what you'd expect for a Champion's Pokemon. Didi was actually one of the Pokemon experimented on and abused by the Cult, which led to the discolored look they have. Instead of looking like a shiny Diancie, they have a brownish palette for their "skin" (is it skin or is it all just rock?), to match Broomie's own color palette. I forget if I mentioned that, but Didi's basically the Broomie of this AU, hence why she has a nickname and isn't just called "Diancie". The Cult used Didi to create hundreds if not thousands of diamonds for their larger scheme. This is where Ink comes in: in true Protagonist Fashion, he ambushed the operation and beats everyone there, freeing Didi in the process. Now, just to clear things up, the Cult wasn't present for this. It was actually a different group carrying out orders from the Cult. In other terms, the Cult is pulling the strings behind everything, and other Cults essentially get forced into cooperating with them.

As for Didi's bond with Error, there... really isn't much of one. Until it gets revealed, Error's actually one of the only people who knows about Didi being in Ink's possession. And while he can't say he's too fond of Didi, they're a good Pokemon. He just wishes they would stop trying to jump on the bed, they can't keep replacing the sheets and blankets. Well, they can, they're rich, but you know what he means.

So, to summarize: 404's a yandere and a sore loser, Didi is an experiment survivor, Didi tolerates Error, and Didi despises 404.

#utmv pokemon au #just for the record #i think i unintentionally gave 404 erotomania in like #just about everything he's in #it is my personal agenda to spite the fandom as much as i can #by intentionally straying from 404's canon #do you know how many times i've gotten comments ridiculing me for not staying 100% true to 404's canon #god forbid i let this man move on from the dead alphatale chara #i don't let it bother me ofc but it's still annoying #how much you wanna bet those same people think error canonically destroys to spare aus and ink is evil incarnate #“404 is canonically the strongest character” says who #errmmm that's actually toby fox our beloved annoying dog #we don't stay 100% true to canon for other characters what makes 404 so special #if you guys couldn't tell i have. opinions #maybe controversial but you know what? let me speak my truth #“404 can't be beaten by anyone” erm actually my oc's canon says otherwise #i love 404. his au not so much but i do like him specifically #i don't think there's actually anything wrong with his au (i haven't checked it in ages) i just. don't really like it?#i love 404's character though. and i love to butcher it lmao #but some of y'all take it too seriously like chill #ink and error canonically haven't even met but does that stop people from having them interact on an almost daily basis? no #i'm gonna turn 404 into my personal punching bag out of pure spite

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itsclydebitches · 3 years ago

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So this is a big pot of headcanon with a dash of analysis sprinkled in, but I keep thinking about Izzy oh so briefly captaining The Revenge and how he was probably, maybe definitely going to go back for Ed.

Okay, hear me out. You’re Izzy Hands and your entire existence (as far as we currently know) revolves around Blackbeard. It literally doesn’t matter how badly things are going because you are always, always going to serve him in whatever fucked-up way you think is best. Everything else is just performative venting. Furious that you’ve spent years managing his erratic moods and he treats it like a joke, promising that this time you’re finally going to resign? Never-mind, give it an hour and you’ve cooled down enough to apologize for that—you never really meant it. Passive-aggressively packing up a dinghy to sail away to parts unknown, definitely never going to speak to him again? Haha, right. A single pat on the back and an “I need you” puts things right, so much so that the touch has you gasping (thanks, GIFers) and his praise brings one of the few genuine smiles to your face. You’re literally banned from the ship Ed is currently (co)captaining? Big deal! Just betray everything else you stand for by teaming up with a woman whose establishment you profess to hate, assisting the British and their disgusting King, all so that you can get back together again. That’s totally the obvious solution here.

Izzy is so singularly focused on Ed that the idea that he’d just sail off on The Revenge post-Act of Grace is like… impossible to me? It’s just straight up not on the table. Because yeah, Izzy appears pleased to be in charge, but this is also the guy who was offered a captaincy already and kinda grimaced about it, going, “I suppose it could be me, yeah,” which is not exactly an enthusiastic response. Izzy comes across as happy that Ed would think him capable of such a position—insert his desperate need for acknowledgment here, coming right on the heels of Ed dismissing his other work—but actually having it? Nah. Because where’s Ed in that picture? On a totally different ship, separate from Izzy, which is unthinkable.

So this is Izzy Hands, newly minted captain of The Revenge, suddenly in charge of this crew… what else is he going to do with all that new power except use it to go after Ed? Maybe it’ll be a raid on the training facility. Or maybe Izzy will let him stew for a while until he attacks whatever ship Ed is forced to serve on. After all, this is Izzy’s Revenge now, a possessive that applies not just to the literal ship, but its implied meaning too: you tossed me aside for that gentry twat, so now I’m going to make you suffer for a while before oh-so-magnanimously allowing you to reclaim your place as my Captain. Izzy is petty, but his priorities, as far as we’ve got in season one, are laser-focused. I’ve yet to see a version of him that would actually pack up this crew and sail them away, leaving Ed to the fate he’d carved out for himself. Izzy is all about changing Ed’s fate, whether Ed actually wants that or not.

Which makes Izzy’s speech to the crew pretty interesting, if read through the lens of, ‘Izzy will eventually go after Ed again, no duh.’ Because he certainly doesn’t come across like he’s lying to the others about their place here and that, to me, speaks to the idea that Izzy doesn’t actually prefer the Kraken version of Blackbeard that he gets in the end. He just wants Ed, however he can get him. “Work hard, keep a spring in your step, and you'll all have a long tenure aboard Izzy’s Revenge!” Oh okay, so you’re actually planning to keep everyone? Despite how useless you’ve constantly proclaimed them to be? Izzy should hate everyone here—should be sailing towards the nearest port to pick up a crew of “real” pirates who are both skillful and know nothing about the “spewer” business—and yet he’s almost gleefully imagining this nebulous future where Stede’s crew has stuck around. Izzy gives this speech while seated at a table, eating, napkin tucked to keep his shirt clean, telling Fang that his food needs more salt. It’s almost like, oh, I don’t know… he enjoys supposedly fancy things like a good, proper meal? Sure, it’s not fine china and he definitely doesn’t have Stede’s table manners, but it’s a telling position to put him in while trying to gain the respect of the crew. Izzy is the guy whose immediate thought after eating his own toe is to summon Lucius—another guy he supposedly hates—to take notes on their next proceedings because I guess “real” pirates do keep scribes/sketch artists now. The closest thing Izzy has to a heart-to-heart with Ed is while Ed is dressed in one of Stede’s flouncy shirts and bright red pants, but Izzy doesn’t really have a problem with that. Nor does he have a problem with Ed retiring—only the practicality of achieving that (“The only retirement we get is death”) and the idea that this retirement might not include him. If Ed retires then Izzy should be the next Blackbeard and… no. That can’t happen. The two of them split? Unthinkable. Izzy’s lackluster response to the suggestion seems in part due to him trying to wrap his head around the very casual way Ed suggests they go their separate ways.

Really, I don’t think Izzy fully knows what he wants beyond something, something stay at Ed’s side—that’s part of the problem—but at this point I’m personally convinced that his hang-ups have far more to do with Stede than any of the genderqueer, “namby pamby” stuff that Ed is taking an interest in. He indulges Ed’s cloud-gazing and is legit impressed when it turns out to have been part of an escape plan all along. Yet Izzy is far less indulgent of Ed’s wandering focus when he’s gushing over Stede’s trinkets. The two of them switching clothes in a display of intimate fun is rage inducing. But Ed lounging in fancy clothes, talking about how soon they’ll be his clothes as “Stede Bonnet” is fine. Izzy sneers at the silk gown, yeah, but he’s far more concerned with how Ed wears the gown to pine for his boyfriend. Stede is the common denominator that tips Izzy from the realm of ‘This is weird and I don’t like it but fine if it’s really what you want I’ll deal. I’m gonna bitch about it though’ into “Edward better watch his fucking step.” Though there’s absolutely internalized homophobia and toxic masculinity at play here—how could there not be?—I think the underlying problem is not Ed’s interest in traditionally feminine things, or his desire for a less violent form of pirating, or even the idea of a full-blown retirement… the problem is that he’s exploring all that with Stede instead of Izzy.

Izzy’s brief captaincy, if we read it under the belief that he’d return to Ed like he always has before, is basically a setup to give Ed everything else that he wants; everything but Stede. Here, you can have your stupid fancy ship. You can have your dumb, “talk it through” crew that doesn’t actually know how to pirate. You can have a scribe to write about all your adventures. You can wear your flouncy clothes. You can eat at the table and tell bedtime stories and, hell, even treat pirating as a casual hobby done to stave off boredom while you spend the rest of your time pretending to be an aristocrat. You’re the boss, Boss.

The only thing you can’t do is fall in love with Stede Fucking Bonnet, rendering me not just useless, but unwanted.

Before the mutiny, I wonder if Izzy had dreams of rescuing Ed (again), trying to get through to him (again) only this time everything is better because Ed may have already gotten sick of Stede while forced to fold clothes together. Or maybe they were separated after training. Maybe Stede even died! And here comes Izzy, offering piracy and all those fancy perks. You can have both, Ed. You can get both provided it’s with me, not him. Banish Stede from the ship in a duel and it’s fine. Rescue just Ed with the stupid crew and it’s fine. All the fancy stuff is fine, just not the man who introduced you to them.

But of course, the mutiny happens and wouldn’t that have been a shock? Because Izzy used to be able to command others. We saw it with Fang and Ivan, Fang in particular changing over the course of the season. He moves from letting Izzy pull his beard and asking what the point of complaining would be, hissing on Izzy’s command at the others, Ivan responding to his order against Stede’s men hidden in the woods... to lounging for Lucius and proudly proclaiming that “Izzy the Spewer” will just have to wait, he’s not the boss of him (anymore). Izzy can’t lead through fear like he once did and retroactively trying to reach the crew on their terms by talking it through doesn’t work either, not when they’ve already decided to be rid of him: “Okay, okay! Maybe, maybe we got off to a bad start. But, what, what, what, what can I do differently, huh? I'm open to suggestions!” Whatever fantasies Izzy might have had fall apart the moment Wee John laughs at the idea of him being in charge.

It all goes off the rails but then Ed returns, alone, but he’s still in love with Stede. He’s still pining for his boyfriend. Izzy can handle a Blackbeard that wants tea in his quarters, or who spends days in bed (already been managing that), or who wants the occasional talent show instead of a raid. Blackbeard, like a Viceroy, can do whatever the fuck he wants. Izzy might complain bitterly about it, but he’s never actually denied Ed whatever supposedly crazy whim has entered his head. Amidst all the ‘Keep the crew from mutinying while I take a depression nap, Izzy’ and ‘Follow the ship of the weird Gentleman Pirate, Izzy’ and ‘Tell me what you think about clouds, Izzy’ orders that he’s grudgingly gone along with, the singular thing Izzy won’t do is what reverts Ed back to the point where, when Izzy really did leave, for the first time in presumably ever, all it got from Ed was a shrug of indifference and a “That’s that.” Izzy will put up with anything—a Blackbeard turned soft “Stede Bonnet,” or a horrifically violent Kraken—provided he remains Ed’s focus. Ed can have whatever he wants... except the love of another man. He can’t have Stede.

But, of course, when push comes to shove Stede is the only thing Ed really wants. He already loves him. He’ll trade in all the finery — even their freedom — for the chance to have Stede kiss him on the beach, exactly as he is. Which is fantastic for them! But not so great for Izzy “jilted wife” Hands.

Which, you know, on any average day got me like

#OFMD #Our Flag Means Death #Izzy Hands #blackhands #this show is a comedy right?

104 notes · View notes

bestofbucky · 4 years ago

Text

Eavesdrop

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: none really, enemies to ?

A/N: This is my first time posting something I have written. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much @tuiccim for your help, couldn’t have done it without you.

Being an Avenger is tough. Of course, there are the obvious missions and kicking ass that are exhausting, especially because you don’t have any sort of enhancements or powers. You are just a regular human being, fighting with and against some not so regular human beings. Naturally when you have downtime, you spend it doing things with the least amount of effort. Watching Netflix, listening to music, taking baths, etc, meaning that your social life outside of the compound was, to put it simply, non-existent.

You had just returned from the worst date of your life, well, one of the top five worst dates of your life. Over the past couple of months Steve and Natasha had grown tired of you whining about being single but not making any effort to change it and began sending you on blind dates. Somehow, they managed five different times to find five completely awful people. This time they had set you up with Arthur, a recruit for SHIELD and a good one at that. You wouldn’t be surprised to see him on the elite squad soon, but when it came to your date, he was really blunt and inappropriate, and you had cringed your way through the entire thing.

Once you got back to the compound, you first went to your room to get changed into gym clothes for training with Nat, then headed to her room. On your way you passed one of the common rooms and heard two voices. One familiar but one you didn’t recognise, you decided to check it out and found Steve and another man.

Steve called your name inviting you over to them as they both stood up. ‘This is Bucky. He’s moving in today to begin training.’ Steve explains. You nod and smile at Bucky, remembering Steve told you about him and that he would be living here and eventually joining the team.

You have to stop yourself from gasping out loud at the sight of him. He is a 6 ft something hunk of muscle and beauty and you can’t stop yourself from trying to take him all in with your eyes.

Steve then introduces you to Bucky who looks in your eyes for all of two seconds to say, ‘hi’ before looking down at his feet. He is probably really nervous. Even from that two second glance, you could tell he had one hell of a past. They had you hooked already, you wanted to stare into those eyes and let them tell you the stories of the lifetime they had seen.

‘You were just in Wakanda right? How was it? I have only ever seen it in pictures but I really want to go.’ You let your excitement show, hoping to relax him a bit.

‘Yeah, it was nice. I was frozen for most of it though’ Shit, he curses himself. He didn’t mean to come across so rude but he was really nervous, you are really pretty and it is messing with his head a little. It doesn’t help that he has had to meet a lot of different people today and he is all socialised out. He sees your face fall slightly before you quickly compose yourself, any normal person would have missed it but he has his past of being a trained assassin.

‘Well, Nat is probably waiting for me, she told me she would show me some new moves today.’ You say realising that Bucky had probably been under a lot of stress lately and most likely just wanted to be alone, or with Steve rather than chatting to you, a stranger. At least you hoped this was the reason and it wasn’t that he already disliked you. Saying goodbye to the two of them you head off to Natasha’s room.

Not even bothering to knock, you walk into her room leaving the door open behind you, since you’ll be heading down to the gym soon anyway. Natasha is sitting on the end of the bed braiding her hair. ‘You almost ready?’ You ask.

‘Yeah, just got to finish my hair then put my shoes on.’ She tells you so you take a seat on her bed while you wait.

Meanwhile, Bucky told Steve that he wanted to go get his room sorted. Really it was just an excuse to be alone for a little while. On the way there he walked past a room with the door open and heard two voices talking, recognising them to be you and Natasha. He was just about to carry on walking to his room when he heard Natasha ask, ‘did you meet him yet?’

Bucky assumed she was talking about him and wanted to hear what you had to say. He hoped you would be understanding of his reticence after his taxing morning.

‘Yeah, I met him today.’ You sigh and roll your eyes.

‘That bad?’ Nat asks, raising her eyebrows with a slight smirk on her face.

‘Yes, I tried to be as friendly as I could but he seemed like a jerk.’ You huff.

‘How so?’

‘He was so blunt he just came across really rude. I had high expectations, especially after hearing Steve say so many nice things about him.’

‘Maybe he was just having a bad day?’ She attempts a defence.

‘Bad day or not, he should have the courtesy to smile and be polite even if it is fake.’

Bucky was so hurt to hear this. Yes, he wasn’t the nicest to you but your reaction seemed a bit dramatic. He didn’t want to hear you say any more so he rushed off to his room.

‘So, I guess you aren’t going to go on a second date with him then?’ Nat asks.

‘No, I really appreciate you and Steve trying to set me up but seeing as this is the 5th time and none of them were any good, I think I’ll go back to my old methods.’ You smile at her.

‘What, never putting yourself out there and waiting for the right person to just fall into your lap?’ Nat teases and you both laugh when you nod. She finishes tying her shoelaces and you head off to the gym.

The next day you were leading a meeting of recruits who have the potential to be moved up into the squad that worked with the Avengers. The elite squad. Unfortunately for you, Arthur was in the group of recruits and was probably the next one to be promoted. You finally dismissed everyone and started getting your stuff together to leave as well when Arthur came up to you.

‘What’s the word on who is moving up next, dove?’ You look up in shock, surely, he didn’t just call you dove.

‘Excuse me?’ You look him dead in the eye.

‘I said what’s the word on who is moving up next? I think you might need to get your hearing checked.’ He laughs at his own joke so you fake laugh with him.

‘That’s confidential., we’ll let everyone know when we have made the decision.’ You say and go to walk past him but he grabs your arm.

‘Does someone need a little convincing. If it’s you, then I can think of some ways.’ He whispers seductively in your ear. You pull your arm out of his grasp and frown at him.

‘I’m only joking, dove, come on, you can’t even take a joke?’ He laughs again.

You put on your best fake smile and your customer service voice. ‘There will be no convincing necessary. You are a good agent but you also have good competition. We will inform you all of our decision when it is made.’ You say and quickly turn and walk out the door before he can say anything else. When you get into the lift you ask FRIDAY where Steve is.

‘Common room A, Agent Y/L/N’. You make your way there as quick as possible. Heading around the corner, you slam into a solid object. You hiss at the contact on your fresh bruises, a frown appearing on your face. As soon as you look up to see what or who you bumped into, the frown quickly fades into a smile when you see its Bucky. He is already looking at you.

‘Sorry I should have been watching where I was going.’ He mumbles quickly.

‘No, it’s just as much my fault as yours. I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry.’ You apologise to him. As much as you would love to stay and chat with Bucky, you need to get to Steve to explain what just happened with Arthur and hopefully you can get him kicked off the team.

Bucky had left his room to try and find someone to help him figure out a few things with FRIDAY but as soon as he bumped into you that completely left his mind. You were all that filled his mind ever since he met you. He stood in the hallway for a while before realising he should ask you to help. Maybe this would be a good excuse to make up for his poor first impression. He heads in the direction you went but stops short when he hears your voice.

‘I think he bruised me. The dick.’ You say and Steve frowns at you ‘Come on, Steve. I’m allowed to be angry. He has been nothing but a jerk to me,’ you explain and shift to get more comfortable.

‘What did you say to him when he did this?’ Steve asks, holding your arm and examining the newly formed bruises in the shapes of fingers.

‘I put on my best fake smile and pretended like everything was ok,’ You joke and Steve laughs, ‘as much as I hate the guy, I don’t have the confidence to actually show it.’ You sigh and Steve pulls your sleeve back down and leans back into the sofa. ‘Is there any way we can kick him off the team?’ You exaggerate batting your eyelashes at him.

‘He isn’t even on the team yet and you already want to kick him off?’ Steve questions.

‘Yes! I really don’t like him. I know he is your friend but I trust him about as far as I can throw him’ You explain and Steve nods.

Bucky had heard enough. He can’t believe you could be so horrible. You had the sweetest exterior and, from first impressions, you didn’t look like you could hurt a fly. But as he heard you say, you clearly put on a fake act to come across as polite and kind when really you are rude deep down. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop on you. Twice now. But he is so glad he did, because now he knows not to waste his energy on you. He knows what you think of him and he has formed his opinion of you. He hurries back to his room.

‘He’s not my friend Y/N, I only said that to you to make you go on the date with an open mind. I’ve only ever had one conversation with the guy,’ Steve jokes and you playfully push his arm, ‘All jokes aside, his behaviour breaks a lot of conduct rules and is a good enough reason to have him knocked down a few squads.’ Steve replies and you sigh with relief. You hug Steve and thank him for his help, he’s taken slightly off guard but hugs you back before you go your separate ways.

A few weeks later, you walk into the kitchen to find the whole team eating their breakfast. Sam is cooking and when he sees you, he makes a plate and hands it to you.

‘Thank you Sam.’ You hug him and take the plate, turning around at the sound of Bucky’s scoff. You haven’t had a conversation with Bucky since you bumped into each other in the hallway. You had tried to but he either completely ignored you or just rolled his eyes and left the room.

At first it hurt, you wondered if you had done something wrong. The team seemed just as confused by it as you. Bucky didn’t have a problem with anyone else. That wasn’t to say he was extremely friendly with them, he wasn’t there yet and nobody blamed him but he could hold conversation with the others. He even laughed at their jokes. You were starting to get fed up with it so after breakfast you headed to Bucky’s room to talk to him. You knocked on the door and it wasn’t long until he answered it. As soon as he saw you his face fell visibly.

‘Can we talk?’ You asked hoping he would let you into his room. He paused to consider it then stepped out of his room, closing the door behind him. He stood there with his arms crossed and waited for you to talk.

‘Is there something I did wrong?’ You ask him and he keeps a blank face.

‘Why do you care?’ He asks still arms crossed over his body.

‘I care because you are always scoffing or rolling your eyes at me whenever I try to talk to you.’

‘I’m not scoffing or rolling my eyes now.’ He points out.

‘No but you’re not exactly being very friendly.’

‘Would you prefer for me to fake it then? Just put on a smile and pretend to like you?’ He jabs. You take a moment to process what he just said. You didn’t realise he could be so mean.

‘No Bucky I would prefer for you to maybe make an effort to get to know me before making a judgement.’ You scowl at him.

‘I have a perfectly fine judgement of you. I am not going to fall for your fake smiles and fake friendships.’ Bucky snarls and walks back into his room closing his door in your face. You are left to stand there in shock.

On the other side of the door Bucky is leaning there conflicted. The shock on your face looked so genuine. No, he has to remember it is all an act with you.

From that day on you decided you weren’t going to make an effort with him. It wasn’t the most mature decision but you were tired. What used to be eye rolls and scoffs, now turned into snarky comments and you were no longer afraid to throw them right back at him.

Steve had tried a few times to talk to you about it but, when he couldn’t tell you why Bucky hated you, he realised there was nothing he could do to change how either of you felt about the other. What he could do was change up your schedules so the two of you were rarely ever in the same room together.

Unfortunately, instead of the arguments happening quite calmly but consistently over the course of the whole day. They were now much shorter, confined to just mealtimes, and much more heated and intense. None of the team knew which was worse.

You were sparring in the gym with Natasha trying to work off some steam from this morning’s argument with Bucky.

‘Your moves are sloppy, get whatever is making you emotional out of your head.’ She grunts at you but this only forces you further into your head.

You go hard at her, but she blocks every move so you go to defence. She smirks at you, ‘Has a certain super soldier got into your head?’

That causes a surge of anger to hit you and again you go hard at Natasha, but your anger only allows her to catch you off balance and you are pinned to the mat in a matter of seconds.

‘So it is Barnes.’ She pulls you up and you brush yourself off before getting back into a fighting stance.

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ You grunt at her and start your attack. Your moves are still predictable and anger clouds your mind. You feel yourself getting more and more worked up with every hit she blocks.

You retreat to take a breather, you hear the door open and you glance over, the man of the hour has just entered and you roll your eyes but continue to spar with Natasha.

Out the corner of your eye, you see him make his way over to you both, watching as you take a lot of hits from her and barely manage to land any of your own.

‘I have seen toddlers fight better than you Y/N.’ You hear him chuckle.

‘I don’t need your opinion.’ You grunt, still trying to keep your focus on Natasha.

‘Fight like that on the field and you’ll be dead in two seconds.’

‘Keep talking and you’ll wish you were dead.’

He laughs ‘Is that a threat?’ You ignore him and continue sparring. ‘Your punches are so weak, how did you become an Avenger again?’ He is still smiling knowing exactly which buttons to push.

You stop and make your way over to him. ‘I became an Avenger because of my talent and my strength, that I worked hard to earn.’ You are right up in his face, almost chest to chest. You are breathing hard, partly from the exercise but mostly because of how riled up you are. You notice he is breathing hard as well, his breath fanning across your face.

Your mind can’t help but drift, is this what he would look like in bed, his chest rising and falling faster than normal. Small beads of sweat gathered at his hairline from his recent run. You suddenly realise how close the two of you are and force the inappropriate thoughts from your mind. You hate how seeing him so riled up is actually a huge turn on. How could you let yourself be attracted to such an asshole?

‘You wouldn’t stand a chance against me.’ His voice drops so low that in a different circumstance you would have happily dropped your panties.

‘You’re right. I wouldn’t stand a chance against you and your metal arm that you were given. Or you and the super soldier serum that you were given.’ You know they are cheap shots but you just couldn’t help how absolutely fuming he makes you. He had managed to get under your skin and the thought of him being successful only made you angrier.

He leans down even more, your noses almost touching ‘I don’t know how everyone else can’t see through your little nice act. You pretend to be so kind on the outside but deep down you’re a bitch.’ Ouch. You deserved that one for what you said to him but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Especially because if you were hooked up to a lie detector and asked to say those things again, it would flash up as a blatant lie. However, looking into his eyes there was not an ounce of regret for what he said.

Bucky knew he shouldn’t have said what he did, but you had hit a nerve and it was the only thing he could think to say back. He saw the hurt flash across your eyes but it was too late to take it back now. The only thing he could do was exit the situation before it got any worse. He turned on his heels and left the room, leaving you standing there in complete shock at your exchange.

Natasha calls your name but you quickly leave for your room before anyone can see you like this.

The team was split all across the base. This wasn’t how you would usually handle missions but as soon as you arrived the mission started to go sideways.

‘Target headed towards the west elevator. Anyone nearby copy?’ You hear Steve’s voice through comms.

‘I'm on it.’ You say back, your comms crackling more than usual.

‘Copy that.’ Bucky said, his comms crackling from the two of you talking at the same time.

The rest of the team had heard both of your voices but neither of you had heard the other. So it was a big shock when you were waiting for the elevator and you heard his voice behind you.

‘You have got to be kidding me.’ He sighs and slowly walks up to you to wait for the elevator as well. ‘Did you not hear me say I got it?’ He snaps at you.

‘No because I was the one that said I’m on it.’ You snap back and thankfully the elevator dings it’s arrival. Normally in creepy Hydra bases you would avoid elevators but seeing as there was no stairwell nearby, this was the only option.

‘Age before beauty.’ You say to him, gesturing to the elevator.

‘Very funny’ he says sarcastically before stepping inside. You follow after him and press the only floor button available.

Silence permeates the small space as you prepare for what’s to happen once the doors open. Instead, the elevator jerks to a stop.

‘No.’ You panic and start pressing the floor button over and over. ‘No no no no no.’ Nothing is working.

‘Let me try.’ Bucky says pushing you out of the way, you so badly want to say something but the only thing you can focus on is the fact you might be trapped. Bucky taps the button and looks around for anything else to press but there is nothing. You can feel yourself start to get light headed as claustrophobia takes hold and the thought of falling to your death in this metal box takes over your thoughts. You shrink down onto the floor and hold your head in your hands.

‘Do you always have to be so dramatic?’ Bucky huffs. You don’t answer him, the only thing you can think about is the pain starting in your chest and your breathing getting heavier.

‘Stop breathing so fast. You are going to make yourself pass out.’ Bucky grunts but when you don’t reply or make any effort to slow your breathing he gets worried. He kneels down in front of you ‘Hey? Doll? Can you hear me?’ You can’t answer him, you just feel the impending doom and the immense pressure on your chest. ‘I’m going to move your hands.’ He announces then you feel him take your hands and pull them away from your face. You look at him, tears in your eyes, a look of pure fear across your face. ‘Breathe with me, doll. Can you do that?’ He asks and you manage to nod. He speeds his breathing up to your pace then gradually slows it, you follow him as best as you can and eventually you get your breathing back to normal, with the occasional hiccup or sharp intake.

Once he sees you are ok, he lets go of your hands and sits on the floor as far away as he can. You both continue to sit in silence.

‘Thank you.’ You eventually manage to whisper, he nods without meeting your eye.

You can’t help but feel disappointed, you just got to see a caring side of Bucky and it felt amazing to be on the receiving end of it, but now you are back to him not giving a shit about you. You go back and forth wondering whether it is the right time to bring up the issues between you two. If not now, when?

‘Why do you hate me so much?’ He looks across at you and sighs before he answers.

‘I don’t hate you.’

‘Yes you do. It seems like you go out of your way to make me miserable.’ You push, making him lean his head back on the wall behind him.

‘I don’t hate you. I just don’t like how you formed opinions about me so early on. You wanted me off the team before I even got cleared to be on the team.’ Bucky explains. You stare at him in confusion.

‘How do you know what opinions I formed of you? I may have wanted you off the team but it was only because you were mean and that was after you were cleared.’ You could feel yourself starting to get angry.

‘Then how come I overheard you talking about the first time we met to Nat, you said I was blunt and rude. Then after I accidentally bumped into you, you told Steve you wanted me off the team.’ Bucky says agitatedly.

‘I never-‘ you think back to any conversations you had with Nat and Steve about Bucky. The only ones that came to mind were asking them if they knew why Bucky didn’t like you. Then it hits you, he had overheard you talking to Steve and Nat about Arthur. You sighed.

‘Let me guess, you overheard me and Nat talking not long after we first met. We were in Nat’s room getting ready to go train?’ You ask and he nods.

‘Then the conversation you overheard with Steve was straight after we bumped into each other. We were in the common room?’ Bucky looks confused but nods again.

‘You are such a prick. You eavesdrop but don’t even listen long enough to hear who we were talking about.’ You can’t help but chuckle at the situation, even though it’s not particularly funny.

‘What?’ Bucky looks more confused than ever.

‘Well, if you had listened properly to the whole conversation you would know I was talking about that asshat agent, Arthur.’ That came out more blunt than you intended.

‘The recruit that got bumped down a few squads even though he is really good?’

‘Yep. That’s the one’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Before you came Steve and Nat had been setting me up on blind dates with people. Arthur was the fifth one, I really didn’t want to go so Steve convinced me by saying they were friends and all this nice stuff about him.’ You pause to take a deep breath. ‘The day we met, I had just come from the date with him and it was awful. That's what me and Nat were talking about. Then when we bumped into each other in the hallway, I had just come from a meeting with the recruits. Arthur had been inappropriate and he hurt my arm, I was rushing to Steve to tell him and ask if he can be kicked off the team.’ You finally manage to say and Bucky just looks at you. You can see the cogs turning in his head as he is finally getting context to the snippets of conversation he overheard.

‘Shit. I am so sorry. I am such an idiot.’ He scolds himself and you can’t help but feel bad for him.

‘I am not going to disagree with you, but we have both said and done some pretty nasty stuff. I am sorry for any hurt I caused you.’ You say sincerely and he looks over to you and smiles.

‘So you didn’t think I was rude when we first met?’ He still holds your eye contact and you take a moment to look at him. You have never seen him look so vulnerable before, he almost looked scared.

‘No, Bucky, I thought you were probably nervous or tired from meeting loads of new people.’ You explain and his shoulders fall.

‘I feel like such a jerk.’ He sighs and you scoot yourself closer to him so he has to look at you.

‘I’m not all that innocent in this either. It was a misunderstanding. I am just glad we have cleared it up now.’ You say meaning it and he smiles earnestly back at you. It is something you have never experienced first-hand. You have seen him give those gorgeous, slightly lopsided, smiles to other people but seeing one directed at you causes a rush of heat to your cheeks and you find yourself blushing.

Bucky must have been thinking along the same lines ‘You’re cute when you blush. I have never seen this side of you before.’ He brushes some hair out of your face and behind your ear. ‘You know, part of the reason I was so nervous when I first met you was because I was taken off guard by how beautiful you are.’ His cheeks flush slightly at his confession.

Before you can say anything the elevator jerks again and starts moving, you and Bucky are quick on your feet, preparing yourself for the doors to open.

When they finally do you are met with a group of Hydra agents ready to attack. You and Bucky work in tandem, playing off each other’s strengths. When the Hydra agents realize this, they work to separate you. The majority of them are on Bucky but you are fighting four at once. You are onto the last one when he raises his gun to shoot but you force his arm down. Not quick enough, it fires and clips your calf causing you to cry out from the pain

It is not as bad as actually being shot in the leg but it still hurts like hell and you can’t put pressure on it. The room is pretty silent apart from footsteps you recognise to be Bucky approaching. You move quickly and uppercut the guy in the nose. The crack echoes throughout the room as the guy falls to the floor at your feet.

You turn to Bucky, his mouth agape and eyebrows raised in shock. ‘That was hot.’ He announces finally, making you laugh, you go to take a step towards him but realise too late that your injured leg won’t hold your weight. You would have fallen to the floor if Bucky hadn’t rushed to catch you.

‘Thanks.’ You chuckle, your faces are extremely close. Your eyes completely entranced in his. Your whole body warms at the safe feeling of being in his arms. You start to wonder what it would be like to fall asleep in these arms, to wake up the next morning still wrapped up in them. Protected.

You force yourself back to reality by clearing your throat. ‘We should probably get back to the team.’ You say and he nods. He puts his arm around your waist and you put yours over his shoulders to use him as a crutch.

The ride back up in the elevator goes smoothly this time and before you know it you are hobbling up to the quinjet where the rest of the team awaits. Natasha and Steve are both looking back and forth from you to Bucky in confusion.

‘What the hell happened?’ Steve asks not trying to hide how baffled he is that you and Bucky are holding onto each other and not arguing. Natasha simply smirks. Bucky helps you into a seat then sits opposite you with a wink as you smile at him.

‘No, this is too weird. Please argue, bicker, roll your eyes. Anything.’ Sam begs Bucky who doesn’t break his eye contact with you. Bucky simply laughs knowing his behaviour is unsettling Sam and enjoying the newfound comradery with you.

1K notes · View notes

mittensmorgul · 3 years ago

Text

For anyone interested in long-term residence in the supernatural fandom, please have some observations I’ve made over the decade I’ve been here. Take it or leave it as you will, but I’ve found all of this info useful over the years I’ve been here.

I wrote this yesterday, and it achieved its mission of identifying the sort of folks who would react negatively to it (i.e. a lot of block lists have been updated), so now that it’s been edited for content, it’s going under a cut (because that is how we do things on tumblr in general, unless we have a deliberate purpose for annoying readers with excessively long text posts) for the sake of people who actually do care about the fandom and its history. If that’s not you or your reason for being here, then keep on keeping on with your own thing, I guess. For those who are interested, there’s a lot of fandom resources some of us have been building for years that you might enjoy knowing about.

First off, I’ve been informed by a few friends who’ve read through this for coherency’s sake that it sort of reads like a *shakes cane from porch* fandom grandma complaint, but honestly... I earned this rocking chair and goshdangit imma rock now. So apologies for any “back in my day” vibes or faint aroma of tiger balm this post might give off. Then again, it’s loosely based on a similar post from 2012 so like... time is a flat circle anyway I guess.

1. There is no such thing as “tumblr famous,” unless you’re referring to the hilarious and delightful fic of the same name (please go read it, you will cackle). Posting Hot Takes for imaginary Clout™ on this site is kind of pointless in the long run. Sure you can post solely for the sake of stirring shit and getting notes, but the majority of the folks who do aren’t long term residents of the fandom. They’re just tourists moving through our little beach town for spring break. If you’re actually intent on moving to this corner of the fandom for an extended stay, please bother to really feel out the permanent residents and understand the culture and general mood of the neighborhood. It bears no resemblance to whatever’s going on across town where all the bars and beach parities are happening, and those loud, drunken revelers are, again, gonna disappear back to their regular lives or on to the next party eventually. That doesn’t mean the fandom is dying, it’s just evolving.

(funny how I had several comments implying that I’m just trying to keep the fandom from evolving with this post, because I sincerely do want the fandom to continue on for years to come, and that is impossible without evolution. We can evolve without self-immolating, though. mostly i included point 1 for an excuse to push ancient but hilarious fanfic on you.)

2. Once you post something here, it’s been unleashed to the fandom winds. You never know where it will end up, or who will comment on it or add to it. Remember that time Misha tweeted the link to the Epic Cockles Love Story post? No? It was wild. That was 2012. They all know we’re here, and how to find us if they want to. Please don’t take it to their doorsteps.

Obviously if someone is being a dick on your posts, please feel free to block them, but the whole entire point of this site is to engage people with your posts. Being big mad that someone reblogged your post with comments or supporting evidence, or happy headcanons or “HECK THIS IS GREAT BECAUSE (insert personal story about their experience or whatever else made them Feel Things about your post)” is frankly ridiculous. If your goal is to avoid any sort of engagement with your posts, then maybe try instagram instead. From what I understand, there is a SPN fandom presence there, and nobody can tarnish your original posts with unwanted commentary. But the ability to reblog with additional commentary is a FEATURE of tumblr that builds community through conversation. Otherwise we’re all just talking to ourselves in a vacuum, and that’s what actually kills fandoms.

(and for the folks who just want to blog how they want to blog and don’t want people to engage on their posts at all, please feel free to block anyone you want, as well... nobody wants to step on your toes, but most of us also don’t want to walk on eggshells wondering if this post is one of the “do not add comments for any reason” sorts of posts, either. This is a huge fandom and most people can’t even begin to keep track of every creator and their url du jour, and what their personal rules might be regarding interaction with their content. Including a “please don’t add comments” note at the bottom of your posts-- and not in your tags that won’t even show up on reblogs, but in the actual body of the post-- would sincerely help avoid any awkward or unwanted interactions, too. At the end of the day, you are in control of your own fandom experience and the block button exists.

For the record, I block zero fandom blogs (which is why I posted this, I wanted it to reach a wide scope... refer to the opening paragraphs as to why).

3. Since this post was partly inspired by a tag I left on that post going around about how “previous tags” mean fuckall on this site (which you can read here), just a reminder that if you like someone’s tags or feel they add value to the post, part of the Peer Review structure of tumblr encourages you to PASTE THEM INTO A REBLOG. If you do this, then at least credit the person who actually wrote the tags! Don’t just copy someone else’s tags into your tags on your reblog of the post without credit either. They were not YOUR tags. (I have had this happen to tag rambles I wrote and someone else got credited with them on a subsequent reblog and it is FRUSTRATING). Just... don’t even bother to write “previous tags” because WHAT PREVIOUS TAGS?! Nobody is gonna bother to chase back the chain of reblogs trying to find where the mystery tags came from, friendos. That way lies madness.

(for the record, since some folks seemed to focus on this point solely, writing “previous tags” on a post isn’t inherently a BAD thing, but for anyone who actually is here for more than one-off shitposting, then it’s sort of a pointless thing in the long run. This wasn’t intended to suggest people who ARE here for one-off shitposting are bad or “doing it wrong,” but for people who might actually want to preserve that hilarious joke or insightful comment. People delete posts and entire blogs all the time around here. Links break. I get that the upcoming generation just shrugs at that and moves on with their lives, but heck... you don’t have to accept that all entertainment is disposable if you don’t want to. There’s a bizarre sort of nihilism plaguing us all about the impermanence of pretty much everything that feels like something we should be fighting against rather than buying into wholesale, even in our escapist entertainment. I’m just exhausted by the complete loss of joy in community.

*shouts from the peanut gallery* IT AIN’T THAT DEEP, JUST GET SOME FRESH AIR AND LOOK AT A PUPPY OR SOMETHING

Yes... yes it isn’t really that deep, but bigger picture in the state of reality we’re all entirely disillusioned with, are we supposed to just give up on everything, including the things we cling to because they bring us a tiny spark of hope that we’re not all just trapped in this dystopian nightmare and things might actually be worth living for?

*peanut gallery clinging to burnt husks of peanuts in a barren peanut field* but this is how we have chosen to cope

Okay... you do you... I feel bad for you but if that’s the case then this post is NOT FOR YOU. AND THAT’S FINE. I honestly do not care if you don’t care! I mean, I’m sorry anyone has to live in a world that drives them to that mindset, but I understand. This post is for anyone who might look at their lives and their choices and think “no wait, I unironically enjoy this and want more from the experience of that enjoyment than I’m currently feeling.” Everyone else can continue with their lives as usual.)

4. CONTENT THEFT IS NEVER OKAY. PERIOD. Things like “credit to the artist” or tagging gifs or images you found on pinterest as “not mine” isn’t actually credit. If you can’t source an image or gif set, DO NOT POST IT! We don’t REPOST (i.e. save an image and then create a new post with it as if it was our own creation). We REBLOG (click the little square arrows and reblog from the actual creator). That goes for gif sets, fanvids, screencaps, meta, fic... everything.

(hopefully everyone here already understands this one, but I felt compelled to include some “these are stupidly obvious” reminders anyway, since this is ostensibly some sort of advice column. This is the equivalent of the warning label on your toaster reminding you not to use it in the bath. Like... duh...)

5. Close kin of item 4 is SOURCE YOUR SHIT.

(for 100% disclosure purposes, I specifically discussed this one in this specific way because of an influx of anon ask messages I received in the wake of the finale. Literally the inciting incident for creating this entire post was what I can only assume was a joking ask about a comment Misha made at a con years ago. Someone actually bothered to take the time to type out those sentences to me. I have no idea what they were expecting in reply, or what could possibly motivate them to send this comment about something so entirely random from, again, several years ago. Just a joke? No idea, but whatever... it got me thinking that there might actually be people who are new to the fandom who MIGHT actually care about the fandom history, and maybe they just don’t know where to go for that info, or how to even begin searching through 16 years of history for things they might actually find enjoyment in, rather than just hauling random out of context garbage out on main and pointing and laughing about it now. People are actually allowed to care about things. It’s not cringeworthy to actually care about things, and you are not alone in actually caring, and there’s this whole big room over here full of people who are thrilled to share in that with you. This post is intended FOR THOSE PEOPLE SPECIFICALLY, so if that is not you, please just continue walking by.)

Yes, I know lots of y’all are new around here right now, but dredging up stuff from years ago that fandom has completely debunked and presenting it as TRU FAX again is just exhausting. We’re not trying to be party poopers, but seriously, we have seen it all and are mostly done with extinguishing bags of flaming dog poop on our front porches for the umpteenth year in a row. I’ve seen a lot of posts that have the same tone as “I saw Goody Proctor dancing with the devil” or “I heard kylo ren has an eight pack” and just... the information is there for anyone who cares enough to find it.

This goes double for “why is nobody talking about this thing I just discovered while watching the show for the first time?!” And, oh hon, we have talked it all into the ground over the last fifteen years. We’re happy you’re discovering it again, but I promise we talked about it plenty when the episodes originally aired. We have such a rich meta history that lots of us have worked really hard to preserve. I encourage you to seek it out, if nothing else than as historical artifacts. The way we have discussed the show has been a 16-year evolution. People have written literal doctoral dissertations on this show. Your shitposts are fun! We love reliving our own experience through fresh eyes, and seeing your wonder at experiencing it all again for the first time! But y’all didn’t invent this fandom in the last six months, either.

Meta Sources and Minerals provided by our friendly neighborhood fandom archivist, @lets-steal-an-archive

Academic books and articles about SPN

A collection of Meta Essays going back to s1 and organized by topic (all of this has happened before, all of it will happen again)

SPN Heavy Meta Archive (s1-3)

Mel’s Dreamwidth archive of meta (s1-12)

Oranges8hands Dreamwidth archive of meta (s1-15, with many similar entries to Mel’s... though ymmv on viewpoint in a lot of these too)

Anyone remember Fandom Wank? Not the concept but the actual LJ... No? Okay have a link to SPN topics that ended up there. Through 2013. We have seen so much... including several fandom containment breaches.

for all your art sourcing needs, please see @theroadsofararchive, the repository for so much fandom art.

need to find a gif of something? canonspngifs is a vast repository of gifsets of the entire series. If the gif you want to use in your post happens to be the first gif in the gifset, in the tumblr gif finder thingy just paste the permalink to that post from canonspngifs (which is easily searchable by episode, character, location, situation, quotes, and sometimes even color and clothing items the actors are wearing... it’s really well organized, especially for tumblr >.>) and the first gif will be automatically linked with credit to the gif creator attached. It makes life easy that way. It’s also convenient when trying to remember something specific but can’t remember what episode it’s from. I’ve used the site to jog my memory before going to the superwiki armed with more specific search results to find episode quotes and references. Or sometimes I just scroll through all the nice gifs for fun, too.

Need a screencap of something and know exactly which episode it’s from? Try Home of the Nutty. You might not find the exact screencap you’re looking for, but they have a complete set of caps of every episode, and it’s an incredibly useful resource for quick reference checks and the like. Just give pages a chance to fully load before clicking on the next one. The site is easily overloaded, but it’s still free to use (and again, with credit... Pretty much every screencap on my entire blog is from HotN unless otherwise credited).

As you can see, this is a fandom built on preserving our history. You absolutely are not required to engage with any of this if that’s not of interest to you, but I can only assume that there are people who would be interested in it if only they knew it existed and how to find it. Well, now they do.

6. A few more notes on tags, and how they work on tumblr. The first 20 tags on your ORIGINAL posts are searchable sitewide, so if you want to be able to find something again, tag that thing first before going on general tag rambles. The only place tags on reblogs are searchable is on your own blog. So you don’t have to put 50 tags trying to get a post seen if it’s a reblog. You’re just spitting into the wind at that point. If you have a filing system for finding things again, then by all means add those tags (again, in the first 20, so they’re searchable), but you don’t need to tag a reblog “destiel” and “deancas” and “dean” and “cas” and “dean x cas” or whatever. Pick one for your personal blog’s filing system, that’s all you need.

(this was only added because tagging and searching on this site is so very broken... I get that a lot of folks don’t care about ever searching their own blogs again for anything, so this one only really applies if you do often find yourself trying to find old posts. If not, then it’s not really relevant. It took me years to work out a decent tagging system, and at the beginning of my time here I never thought I’d end up camping out here for a decade and falling this deep into the fandom, and I regretted my lack of consistent tags only years later when I realized I actually wanted to be able to go back and find specific old posts again. So... for anyone who wants to err on the side of caution, working out a sensible tagging system really helps if you’re here for the long term. I personally tag content by episode, because some of my other general tags are so large as to be practically useless as a search term. But whatever system you choose to file stuff on your own blog, it really only has to make sense to you. And again, if this is pointless advice for someone who has no intention of settling here for the long term. Please feel free to ignore it. I just wish someone had explained it this way to me ten years ago and saved me the hassle of retroactively tagging something like 30k posts... especially now that using the mass tag replacer is the fastest way to get your entire blog deleted... oops? so yeah, don’t use the mass tag replacer either >.>)

7. Tags on Tumblr DO NOT WORK LIKE TAGS ON TWITTER. If you @ someone in the body of the post, it will show up in their notifications (if they’re the sort of person who even checks their notifications... not all of us do. For the record, I generally don’t...), but putting actor or ship names in the tags on a tumblr post does absolutely nothing. It’s not the same as tagging the actor’s twitter account in a tweet. Nobody’s getting notifications about you tagging a post about Jensen here as “Jensen Ackles.” There is a difference. Please learn it. (and don’t take headcanons and ESPECIALLY RPF or otherwise explicit art or fic from tumblr to twitter and tag the actors in it. That’s just... not okay.)

(I have seen the pearl clutchers getting all in a huff about the mere existence of RPF or even explicit content of fictional characters if it doesn’t meet their purity standards, but tagging those things allows people who don’t want to see it to actively avoid that content here. Nobody has a right to tell people their fictional content shouldn’t exist at all, or that creators of that fictional content somehow deserve harassment or threats for having dared to create such “immoral” content, won’t somebody PLEASE think of the children... and no... you do not do that here. Don’t be the problematic behavior you wish to ban from the world. Learn to use tags to protect yourself from, as i have attempted to emphasize here, fictional content you are personally upset by. That’s a you problem, not a problem for the creators of potentially upsetting content that they tag appropriately for.)

8. General formatting stuff: If you’re writing long text posts, visually break them up so people aren’t faced with one long wall of text. The enter key is your friend. Also, if you put long text posts under a Read More break and send people to your blog to finish reading, please ensure that your blog is actually visually accessible (tiny text, or light grey text on a dark grey background, or a visually busy background might be aesthetically pleasing to you but nobody can actually read it. Loads of folks won’t even try. Which is great if you don’t actually care whether people are able to appreciate your content or not, but something to at least consider if you *do* actively want to encourage engagement with your work. Confirm how your blog looks on both mobile and desktop and make sure it’s actually functional in both, too).

And since I mentioned that most of my experience on fandom tumblr has been in the SPN fandom, here’s a bit of a reminder for folks who are new around here. With the reminder that I have been here more than a decade and still feel like a newbie myself sometimes...

This is an OLD FANDOM. There are many, many people who have been at this longer than some of you have been alive. The average age for creators in this fandom is older than you think (I think of my friends in their 30′s as young’ins okay? okay). With that understood, you are responsible for the content you consume and are exposed to. Curate your experience. Ship and let ship. YKINMKATOK. Don’t deliberately expose yourself to content you find upsetting for whatever reason. Tags and warnings are your friends, not targets for you to attack in some sort of purity war. People will ship things you do not like (or in specific ways you do not like), will say things you do not agree with, and will find their happiness in things you abhor. That is not your concern. Find what you do like, and support and engage with it, and ignore (or block, or unfollow) the rest. Tumblr has a feature that lets you blacklist tags so the content you’re trying to avoid won’t appear on your dash.

Remember the paradox of tolerance.

It is not your job in fandom to police how other people enjoy the fandom. It’s not *my* job to police how *you* enjoy the fandom, UNLESS your enjoyment is in actively harming other real human beings in the fandom. If you don’t like their take on the character or the show or the plotlines or their ships or anything else, you don’t need to engage with their posts at all! The necessary corollary to this is that clarifying misunderstandings or correcting factual misinformation is not “policing.”

(this is where the peanut gallery reminds me it ain’t that deep, and I plead with them to put down the social media and find just one (1) thing to actually believe in in this godforsaken life, find something other than disdain and cynicism and spite to live for. If those things motivate you to find a larger cause for yourself, then great, use them to your advantage, but use them to find something that makes you a better person or brings you a modicum of joy and connection to your fellow human beings despite living in a dystopian hellscape of a world)

I have seen a lot of posts lately that are founded on the sort of authority that comes with “I watched through tumblr for a few months and then watched the last three episodes of the series” and as such are just... missing the larger context of the entire show, and are unfounded entirely in canon. I 100% appreciate the new enthusiasm for the fandom that we’ve been living in here for years, and it’s wonderful to see new people enjoying the thing we love. Your headcanons are valid, you are valid, but recognize that your headcanons aren’t canon. All of us finale denialists have accepted this in some measure, so we feel you. We truly, truly feel you. But regarding actual canon, we have a resource for that: the Superwiki. Learn it, live it, love it, as Metatron would say.

(which you could discover he said in 10.17 Inside Man, thanks to the superwiki! accept no substitutes!)

(and again, there have been people who have been involved in fandom for years who haven’t engaged with canon in years, either! You can play in this universe however you choose, BUT FOR PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT CANON AT ALL, WHICH I AM AGAIN POINTEDLY SAYING MIGHT NOT BE YOU, READER, AND I’M NOT SUGGESTING YOU ARE WRONG FOR NOT WANTING TO ACTUALLY ENGAGE WITH CANON, but if you DO want to engage with canon, please have some useful resources. Why do people feel personally attacked by being presented a list of helpful resources? Absolutely baffling.)

(also: words have definitions. “Canon” is a specific thing, meaning in this case “the finished media product that aired on television.” Anything beyond those limits is secondary canon (think: john’s journal, which is not canon but canon adjacent at best...), word of god (i.e stuff said by the writers and showrunners), or headcanon (which includes actor commentary-- they may have helped create the show with their acting choices and whatever, but they are not in control of the story overall). If there’s something you dislike about actual canon, you can reject it and supplement it with your own theories or preferred outcomes-- that’s basically what fanfic is-- but that doesn’t make your theories canon (much to all our dismay, that’s just not how any of this works. This is not to invalidate how anyone engages with the show or the fandom, just trying to clarify what seems to have been a source of unintentional misunderstandings. Your theories do not have to be “canon” to be legitimate interpretations.)

***I am setting this section apart, and did make a separate post of just this following information, because this is where we go from being relatively chill about different parts of fandom choosing to interact in different ways and you do you and blog however you want, to “hey can everybody please understand that the way you are interacting with this specific material might be harmful for specific legal reasons, and stating that you do not care about the consequences of your actions does actively make you the asshole here...” Okay, now that we have that understood:

The spnscripthunt collective has been steadily acquiring new scripts (which are posted in full on the superwiki for everyone to enjoy, for free). The language around how some folks are talking about these scripts is... concerning. For very real legal reasons, actually, and not because we’re feeling precious about the collection and don’t wike it when meanies use them in shitposts.

-First off, these scripts are not “leaks.” They are all verified and legally purchased (or gifted, in some cases, but still acquired entirely above board. we didn’t whack anyone over the head in a back alley for these scripts, or swipe them out of someone’s trailer on set).

(in case anyone was unaware, these scripts are the copywritten protected property of Warner Brothers. So yes, how we use them and share them with the fandom could have legal repercussions. We present them as a collected resource of fandom history which SHOULD fall under Fair Use doctrine, but this is untested legal water. Insinuating that the scripts are somehow not entirely legally obtained, or that posting them for public access involved less than 100% transparent and entirely legal transactions is incredibly concerning.

Once again for the peanut gallery, if you don’t care about any of that and are just having a good time with it, at least be mindful of the work and expense a large group of people have gone through to acquire and present the content you’re all too eager to exploit for cheap thrills. Some of us do actually care and are not exactly comfortable with the fact that others don’t seem to care about burning it all to the ground. We can’t force you to listen or behave as we’d hope you might, but at least be aware of the potential consequences of your actions. All we’re asking is for you to not be the douchebag who sets the whole neighborhood on fire with your illegal fireworks display. Is that too much to ask for? more on that in a second, first... a psa)

-If you see a script for sale and are unsure if it’s legit (or believe it might already be freely available in our collection), please feel free to ask us for advice. Our goal is to make as much of our fandom history available to the entire fandom, and we absolutely do not want anyone shelling out money for stuff you can already find for free.

(seriously, we’ve seen a bunch of resellers cropping up selling printed versions of the scripts we bought and uploaded for everyone to enjoy free of charge, or scripts that are otherwise of dubious origin. We’ve been at this for years now and know what’s actually out there. We don’t want anyone to fall for a scam if we can help it)

-Also, the usual reminder that the scripts we acquire ARE NOT NECESSARILY THE FINAL SHOOTING DRAFTS. In fact, the majority of scripts in our collection are NOT. Changes are made daily to scripts, even during filming. Comparing a Production Draft (white pages, effectively the first “final draft” of what usually becomes a series of drafts before filming wraps) to a much later revision (say... green or goldenrod revisions, several of which we DO have in our collection for comparison) and how those earlier drafts often differ wildly from the aired version versus how similar a much later green draft is to the aired version, for example, can teach you a lot about the television writing process. The link above to the superwiki scripts page has a nice little explainer about how this process works.

Differences between our posted scripts (many of which are white drafts, aka FIRST complete drafts, which will likely go through multiple rounds of revisions before filming even begins) and the aired version of the show are not all “acting choices” or a director or editor just cutting whole scenes on a whim. It’s insulting to everyone involved in production to suggest that’s the case.

(and yeah, fine... whatever, make any sort of posts you like regarding how those changes came about, but at the very least understand that it’s not actually the truth about how any of this works. Don’t care that that’s not the truth and want to make the posts anyway because shitposting is fun and that’s the extent of your sense of humor? FINE! You’re entitled to do that! But at least you DO know the truth now, and hopefully so do the people who engage with your posts. Deliberate ignorance isn’t cute, smooth lions notwithstanding)

There’s probably a whole other post to be made on fandom tagging etiquette, but again I don’t really use the tags enough to know what’s going on with that whole situation. I’ve also probably left a lot of stuff out, so please feel free to add things I’ve overlooked.

Thanks also to @trisscar368 and @thayerkerbasy for help compiling this, too. They were kind enough to escort me through the park to feed these pigeons. Now I need to take them out for ice cream. :’D

So I guess welcome to the neighborhood. Make yourself at home, but like... try not to trash the place while you’re here. Some of us live here by choice, lol.

#this blue hellsite (affectionate)#fandom problems #kinda wish i'd made this post six months ago but here we are i guess lol #long post #now edited for the people who are actually personally invested in the fandom #thanks for participating in this little experiment and I hope this version is actually informative to those who are interested #meaning there's a lot more links to stuff and explainers and whatnot...#and one last reminder that for folks just swinging through for laughs absolutely none of this applies to you #if you are legit interested in fandom history and preservation as we move to the post-canon world then hopefully this is useful to you

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negasonicimagines · 3 years ago

Text

Tell Me I'm Not Funny

Request: darkandmysteriousbutheartofgold!ellie and wholesomeanddoesn'tunderstandwhyelliedoesn'tlikeher!reader where they're both part of the friend group but ellie just thinks reader is straight and messing with her pls

Notes: I don’t usually write MCU!Peter, so if he comes up in any future fics (like as the reader’s stepdad 👀 I’ve loved spideypool longer than I’ve loved Negasonic) you can safely assume it’s Andrew Garfield. But, for this time, this is MCU!Peter. Everyone in the friend group is 18-20, just to be clear.

This really isn't my best work, but it's a fun little slice of life piece. A lot of my ideas are pretty cinematic, I can picture them in my head but sometimes those pictures don't really translate into words. I may revisit this one day.

Warnings: D-slur (reclaimed by Ellie in one line), allusions to prior assault (an unwanted kiss that could've been more had another character not stepped in), and that's about it. Oh, and a little swearing, but this is an imagine for a character from Deadpool. If you can't handle swearing, you're on the wrong blog.

Synopsis: You’re into Ellie, but she’s with your good friend Peter. She treats you like you don’t even exist, and in the few instances she does acknowledge you, it’s usually just to make some sarcastic remark. You’re head-over-heels, though, and decide to deal with your unrequited love by writing her a song she’ll never hear.

“Fuck, that movie was terrible,” Michelle groans. “I’m just glad it was a matinee show and we didn’t have to pay as much to see it.”

“The special effects were good, but can’t Disney just leave stuff alone?” Peter agrees.

“Next thing you know they’ll be making a live action Toy Story, as if the original wasn’t traumatizing enough. I don’t want to imagine Watermelon as a sentient being. She’s seen some shit,” you snicker.

“Who’s Watermelon?” Ellie asks with a dark chuckle, and you clam up. How had you forgotten she was here?

“Oh, uh, nobody.”

“Don’t tell me you still sleep with a stuffed animal,” she snarks. “You really do need to grow up.”

“Don’t be mean, Ellie,” Peter protests.

“Watermelon is cute, everybody likes cute things!” Yukio adds.

“I think a live-action Toy Story could be cool,” Ned says. “It’d look really good if they did stop-motion animation.”

“Oh, you’re right!” you chirp. “It’d be quite the undertaking, but it would look badass.”

“I think you’re using that term a little loosely,” Ellie grumbles, and you have to stop yourself from frowning, instead you laugh it off. Why does she always pick on you? Sure, she’s got a witty remark for everybody, but she’s way harder on you. It hurts, she really is so gorgeous and funny and mysterious and everything you want in a woman, but she acts like she can’t stand you.

Ellie and Peter head off together, Peter still hasn’t gotten around to getting his license and Ellie seems happy to give him a ride. You really don’t stand a chance.

You and the others pile up in MJ’s SUV for some late-night band practice.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” you admit to Yukio in the furthest row back.

“You can,” she insists. “You’re a way better singer than Lola, anyways.”

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to give her the wrong impression, I-”

“For the millionth time, Y/N, you didn’t. If she hadn’t left the band, we would’ve kicked her out. Not just for cheating on me, but for hurting you.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “Why can’t you sing instead?”

“Because I’m flat.”

“Yukio, breast size doesn’t have anything to do with singing ability, you’ve just gotta practice,” you joke.

“Shut up!” she giggles, punching you in the arm. “Plus, when you sing, the songs are being sung as they were written. We’re getting the real feelings.”

“Speaking of… I have something new I’m thinking about sharing tonight. Do you mind if I text you the demo?”

“Ooh, a first look! Hell yes!”

You text her the audio file and she puts in a wireless earbud, nodding along. Her smile gets wider and wider as she listens, and when she’s done, her assessment shocks you.

“Oh my gosh. You’re into Ellie.”

“What?!” you squeak. “No way!”

“You are! But, uh-”

“Don’t even say it. I know I don’t have a chance in hell. She only tolerates me for the sake of you and Peter.” Despite the gloominess of your tone, Yukio gets a mischievous glint in her eye, it confuses you. But, that’s just Yukio. Her thoughts are all over the place; she and Ellie balance each other out that way. They dated a couple of years ago, but it didn’t work out. They decided they were better off as friends.

“Screw that other song, we’re using this as the lead single. Everybody’s gonna love it, do you have the sheet music?”

“Yeah, uh, it’s in my bag.”

“Awesome.” Yukio’s grinning like she’s won something. Is the song that good? “We’ll have to practice this one a lot, we definitely need to have it ready by the concert this Friday.”

Right. Liz’s 19th birthday party. Apparently Peter had convinced her to let the band play, it’d be cheaper than hiring a more established artist.

“Our first paying gig? I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you remind her. She scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“We’re mostly gonna be playing covers of Liz’s favorite songs, and she only has so many. We’ve gotta beef up the setlist with originals, and this is perfect! Has that pop-y fun vibe, it’ll fit right in.”

“Yeah, but if it’s that obvious how I feel about her after one listen-”

“Only because I already had a hunch after Daft Pretty Boys,” Yukio clarifies cheerily, and you sigh.

“Fair enough.”

The gang makes it to Michelle’s house, travelling down to the side door and going into the basement from there. MJ’s parents have encouraged her creativity from day one, and were ecstatic when the band was formed. You speculate that they’re mostly happy that she’s made friends. Writing and photography can be lonely hobbies.

“Y/N has something new for us!” Yukio chirps.

“That fast?” Ned’s surprised as you hand him the sheet music. He skims it. “Holy shit, this is a wicked solo! Thanks, Y/N!”

“Well, I’m hoping highlighting everybody else’s talent will disguise my lack thereof,” you chuckle.

“Don’t be stupid, we’ve all heard you sing backup,” MJ says. “You’re Ryan Ross, she’s Brendon Urie. I’m just glad we booted her out before she decided she was gonna be the only pangolin in The Pangolins.”

Everyone laughs at that.

“Let’s try it,” Michelle continues, and everybody agrees. After a sound check and a few runs of the song, it’s still clumsy, especially on your part. You’re not really used to playing and singing at the same time, outside of backup vocals, which require far less focus.

“I suck,” you mumble, but it happens to be into the microphone.

“You don’t!” Ned insists.

“With that attitude, we’re not going anywhere,” Yukio says. You hate it when she gets to the tough love stage of her support. You wish she’d stay in the shallow reassurances stage, it’s easier to brush off. “You wouldn’t be the lead singer if we all thought you sucked. We would’ve just put an ad in the paper. You’re awesome, get over it!”

You sigh.

“Fine. Thank you.”

“Say it,” she insists.

“I’m awesome,” you huff, it’s hard not to smile when Yukio tries to look serious.

“Damn straight,” Yukio says. “Or, I guess not, considering that was about Ellie.”

“Yukio!” you squeal.

“That’s about Ellie?!” Ned exclaims.

“Obviously,” MJ scoffs, fiddling with her tuners.

“Is it that obvious?!” You can’t help but feel embarrassed. Ellie probably knows exactly how you feel, maybe that’s why she dislikes you so much. Her boyfriend’s stupid friend has a crush.

“Wait, but at the beginning…” Ned trails off, before laughing. “Oh my gosh, I get it.”

“Get what? Oh… Y/N, have I ever told you how much I love you?” MJ asks.

“I- I love you, too?” You’re puzzled by their words, but you’ve got enough on your plate.

“Let’s go ahead and practice some of Liz’s favorites while we’re here,” Yukio suggests. “It’s a pretty big set list.”

You practice until dinner, getting a pizza and deciding to make a night of it since it was a little late for Michelle to be dropping you all off at your assorted residences.

You all sleep on a pallet in the basement, and despite your worries, you manage to get some rest.

Over the next few days, The Pangolins practice at every free moment, until it’s finally time for the party.

“So, just pictures of everything?” Oh, shit. She’s not supposed to be here. How are you supposed to sing that song with her here?

“Yeah! I know with how many people are coming, I’m probably not going to get as much time as I want with everyone, so pictures will be a good way to remember the night.”

“Why not just invite less people?” Ellie wonders.

“I want all my friends to be here,” Liz explains. “How’s the sound check going, Y/N?”

“It’s going great,” you say into the microphone, demonstrating the quality and volume with a smile. “Thanks for letting us play here tonight.”

“Well, Peter said you guys are great. Are you really gonna debut your best song so far tonight?”

“Oh, um,” you stutter, stepping away from the microphone. “Maybe not.”

“What? Oh, come on, please, it’ll make the night even more special! You’re playing covers of all my old favorites, sing me my new favorite!” Liz presses, but she’s not being demanding or bratty, she seems genuinely excited.

“If the birthday girl says so, who am I to say no?” you concede. Hopefully Ellie will be too distracted taking pictures. “You have way too much faith in me.”

“If you don’t quit with the self-deprecation, I’m gonna duct tape your mouth shut,” MJ interjects.

“But, Daddy, how will I say my safe word?” you tease, giggling at your own joke with the rest of the group. Yukio’s laugh seems the loudest. Ellie glares.

“We should practice a song!” Ned suggests.

“Ooh, a private show!” Liz seems excited.

“Any requests?” you ask her. Ellie’s resting scowl intensifies. If she’s more pissed off the more you open your mouth, you’re not sure how she’s gonna survive a night of you singing without going nuclear.

“Oh, oh, Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne, please?”

“You’ve got it,” you agree.

The song goes smoothly.

“What happened to the old singer?” Ellie asks, clearly unimpressed.

“You didn’t tell her?” you ask Yukio, grateful for the excuse to turn away from the sharp-tongued girl you adore.

“Didn’t want her to get the wrong impression,” Yukio explains. “She already makes enough rude comments towards you.” Yukio leans over her drum kit to give Ellie a pointed look.

“Oh, wait, shit, I didn’t mean it like that. You, uh, sound good, Y/N.”

You can’t help but whip your head back to look at her with a flabbergasted expression.

“What?! It’s true,” Ellie defends herself.

“Uh, yeah, but you just said something nice. About me. Liz, do you mind checking her for a fever?”

Liz obliges for the sake of going along with the joke before quickly withdrawing her hand.

“Jeez! I know you were kidding, but she’s burning up,” Liz declares.

“My internal temperature is higher due to my mutation,” Ellie quickly explains, looking a bit bashful. “Besides, I say nice shit about Y/N all the time.”

“No, you don’t,” the whole band says in unison, including you.

“Well, clearly I shouldn’t if everyone’s gonna make a big fucking deal about it,” she retorts, rolling her eyes. “I’m gonna go get some pictures of the decorations before there’s a bunch of fucking people here to block them.”

She stomps off in her heavy boots, and The Pangolins get back to work, putting on the final touches and making sure all the blocking looks right.

Soon enough, guests start flooding in, and Liz zips around to greet them, eventually meeting up with Peter and keeping him with her. He and Liz eventually pull Ellie away from her picture-taking, confident she’s done enough and needs to just relax and enjoy the party.

So much for distracting herself with work, she thinks.

They sit on the couch and eat, the dining room was monopolized by The Pangolins due to its elevation and space.

Ellie’s mesmerized by the way your fingers move until she hears Peter talking to Liz. They really are a cute couple.

“You really do need to hang out with us. Yukio told me Y/N thinks Ellie and I are a thing,” he says.

“Gross, you’re like my annoying little brother,” Ellie remarks.

“And you’re like my bitchy older sister,” Peter retorts with a shit-eating grin.

“Both of you, quiet! They’re about to play the new song. You’re in for a real treat, Ellie.”

“What does it have to do with me?”

Liz gives Peter a confused and slightly irritated look.

“I haven’t said anything to her, I didn’t know how,” Peter squeaks, blushing a little at the look in his girlfriend’s eyes.

“Explain, quickly,” Ellie demands.

But, then you start to sing again.

“Y/N-” Peter starts.

“Shut up.”

“But you asked-”

“I said, shut up,” Ellie insists.

“You know me as your boyfriend's goofy friend. I seem to have this effect on women, and your friends aren't as goofy as I am. I try my best to keep you entertained, always laughing at the jokes you are saying. I nod my head when you make a point, oh oh…

“Kiss me, kiss me with your eyes closed! Whisper that your heart shows all I want is you, yeah, you… Hold me, hold me I'm your bunny! Tell me I'm not funny, tell me I’m legit! ‘Cause I feel weak, in your hands and your feet… A precious end, I’ll never feel your touch…”

Ellie continues to listen to the song, all expression drained from her face. All the yearning in the words and your voice, all you want is…

Ellie looks at Peter, who’s looking at her with a triumphant smile.

“I told you.”

Ellie feels like she’s about to faint. She notices you’re talking to Liz— when did she leave? —your hand over your mic. Despite the knowledge that Liz is taken, Ellie gets jealous. You look so happy to be talking to Liz, to just about any girl you talk to.

She wishes you’d smile at her that way.

You nod at whatever Liz said, and the band starts packing away their instruments. Liz sets up her phone on some Bluetooth speakers, and songs that sounded so much better when you were singing them start to play.

No! Ellie internally protests. Sing for me again, please, sing that stupid song about how you think I don’t like you.

Yukio’s dragging you somewhere. Gosh, Ellie wishes it was her holding your hand.

Suddenly, though, you and Yukio are approaching her. She knows what she has to do.

“So, what’d you think of our- Eek! Finally!”

Ellie parts from the kiss to tell her to fuck off and not ruin the moment before kissing you again.

“Holy fucking shit,” you breathe. “Uh, I thought you were-“

“Dating Peter?! Seriously?! Do I need to write ‘dyke’ on my fucking forehead? I practically already have with the way I dress and act and-”

“I, uh, I try not to make assumptions,” you mumble, fingers touching your lips.

“I’m, uh, sorry for not asking.”

“No, it’s- It was good. I’ve wanted you to do that for a while. It’s just that that was the first time somebody’s kissed me, since, uh…” Your eyes dart to Yukio, who’s ruffling Ned’s hair and laughing.

“Yukio?!” Orange flickers in Ellie’s eyes for a moment, but she keeps it under control.

“No, no, of course not, uh… The old singer, Lola. She and Yukio were dating, but apparently I was the one she really had her sights on, and… She was entitled. Thought that because she wanted me, I must want her. That wasn’t really the case, I was already pining over you. Didn’t stop her from forcing a few kisses on me and trying to go further. If Yukio hadn't shown up early with cupcakes, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

“I am such an asshole,” Ellie says softly. “Can I kiss you again? The right way.”

“I’d say what you did before was pretty right, but sure,” you consent.

Her kiss before had been rough, needy, and impatient. Just the way you like it. This, though, this is gentle, soft, and exploratory. You tangle your hands in her hair and kiss her harder. She moans into the kiss before pulling away, bewildered.

“That was…” Ellie trails off, trying to find a positive adjective that won’t sound to frilly or lovesick.

“A mistake, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, fuck, no. I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” she corrects you. “Just- Didn’t really know how. Even when you were kinda flirting with me at first, I just thought you were messing with me, so I- I am so stupid.”

“So am I,” you scoff. “I thought you were dating Peter.”

“I was spending a lot of time with him, but… I was just using him as an excuse to avoid you so I wouldn’t embarrass myself anymore. And I was asking him for advice. I figured if he could land somebody as far out of his league as Liz, maybe I stood the slightest bit of a chance with you. But I kept fucking it up. I’d just get so nervous, all of my compliments would turn into insults, all of my teasing turned into straight-up cruelty. I don’t know how you actually like me.”

“I’m a little bit of a masochist, I’ll admit,” you tell her. “I’m really glad you don’t hate me.”

“I’m really glad you don’t hate me,” Ellie replies, but she can’t help but think that what she‘s really saying is ‘I love you, too.’

She takes your hand, and you two rejoin your friends, swept up in a group hug. They wanted this to happen almost as much as you two did.

#negasonic teenage warhead #ellie phimister #x-men #negasonic teenage warhead imagine #ellie phimister imagine #x-men imagine #negasonic teenage warhead x reader #ellie phimister x reader #x-men x reader #wlw x reader #sapphic x reader #wlw imagine #sapphic imagine #lesbian x reader #lesbian imagine #songfic

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green-socks · 3 years ago

Text

Endless Nights

Pairing: Benny Miller x gn!reader (no descriptions or pronouns)

Summary: You and Benny can't seem to get enough of each other's company. Could tonight be the night you find the courage to do something about that crush?

Words: 2,101

Warnings: Nudity but not the sexual kind, food/eating. Almost zero editing and a tired writer.

Notes: I don't always participate in Writer Wednesday, but when I do I take one look at the picture, get an idea and then go completely off the rails. Sorry. So the pic doesn't really have a lot to do with the rest of the fic but I hope that's okay. For this week's @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday, thanks for organizing it every week!

I had the idea for midnight shopping at the supermarket with Benny and then realized I didn't want the night to end there... So it didn't. I actually like this piece, even if it probably suffered a lot from my fast writing and non-existent editing. Reader is mentioned having shorter legs than Benny but other than that I think there are no descriptions or pronouns used of reader, lmk if I'm wrong.

MASTERLIST

You and Benny have been driving around aimlessly for a couple of hours already, taking turns in picking the music, and talking about this and that while sometimes falling into a companionable silence. It still amazes you how easy and comfortable everything is with him. You have never felt like this with a crush before, used to the feeling of always obsessing over what you felt like you could and couldn’t say or do, or spending a lot of time and energy into trying to figure out what the other thought.

No, with Benny you don’t have to pretend anything or force yourself to keep the conversation running in fear of those horrid awkward silences, because both of you know that you can talk for hours on end when the mood strikes. You met through mutual friends only a few weeks ago, but the connection was clearly there. As was the obvious mutual attraction.

Strictly speaking, though, you and Benny are just friends. Nothing has ever really happened to indicate otherwise in any case. But friends don’t usually try this hard to find any excuse just to hang out, nor do you stay up late every night talking to your other friends. And when you hang out in a group you always seem to gravitate towards one another. What’s more, somehow it always seems to be just the two of you left at the end of the night, often not even noticing the others leave.

Your interactions always border on the line of obvious flirting with your touches and already formed inside jokes, but neither of you ever dare do anything that couldn’t be brushed off as innocent behavior between friends. You guess you’re both just kind of scared to take the leap - you have been burned before, and so has he.

It’s not that you doubt your own feelings for Benny, or indeed his feelings for you. Even you have to admit that he does seem pretty interested in you, but you still wave away your friends’ squeals of “he’s totally in love with you!”, mainly not wanting to get your hopes up too much.

Because a small part of you still finds it a little hard to believe; someone so handsome and funny and kind wanting to be with you? What if he likes you, but just not as much as you like him? What if you were just a second choice for someone you really like until something better comes along - again? That scares you, both of you.

Tonight has been like many other nights lately; you had been to the movies with some of your friends, but after the movie ended you had been grasping at straws to come up with a way to continue the night so they (Benny) wouldn’t go home just yet. Benny had helpfully suggested just driving around and seeing if any ideas came to mind.

Santiago in turn had rolled his eyes at you two knowingly (making both you and Benny fluster and try to fake complete nonchalance) before saying good night and leaving with the others, who apparently didn’t feel the compulsive need to continue spending time together.

--------

The sun has gone down already but you two are still enjoying each other’s company too much to go home yet.

You end up in the 24/7 supermarket parking lot, craving a midnight snack. You are reminded of your teenage years, when you used to hang around different parking lots, popping into the store to buy a soda or a candy bar, spending all day outside with friends.

The only other customers doing their midnight shopping are tired people just off their shifts or young people staying up late just for the hell of it, much like you and Benny are, in fact. You wander around the huge store together, pointing out different products you’d like to try and reviewing stuff one of you already has tried.

Before long you realize that you have already spent almost forty minutes idly wandering around the supermarket, collecting new soda or chip flavors to test. Neither of you thought to grab a basket at the entrance, so your arms are starting to get a bit full.

“Benny, do you think this might be enough?” you ask while struggling to maintain your hold on the different bags of chips.

Benny looks back at you from where he is pondering over whether to get some ice cream. “Huh, I guess. I do still wanna get a sandwich, though!” he exclaims and promptly takes off in the direction of the deli counter where they sell sandwiches and salads left over from the day.

You try to keep up with his long strides, certain that you must look a bit comical half-running after a man with your hands full of treats. Oh, well. Benny often complains about how much focus it requires of him to “modify his steps” to fit your much shorter legs, and he always forgets about it when he gets excited.

When you catch up with him, he has already picked a sandwich for himself and one for you. “I got you salmon, that’s your favorite, right?”

“Yeah, thanks!” you say a little breathlessly after your speed-walk, taken that he remembers.

As you finally get to the cash register and start loading your stuff in your bag you see Benny sneak one more candy bar among the rest of your purchases. For someone in such good physical shape he sure does like his candy.

“Where to next?” Benny inquires as you get back to the car.

“Hmm, how about this one waterfront type swimming spot? It’s pretty secluded, has a pier, and there’s a nice view to the sea. I sometimes like to sit there on the cliffs to watch the sun go down,” you suggest, and offer him directions to the place.

It’s a short drive and you show Benny where to park his car. Even though it’s somewhere around 1 a.m. and the sun went down hours ago, the night is still light enough that you can easily see where you’re going and it doesn’t feel like you’re just sitting in the dark.

You settle down on the small pier with your sandwiches and sodas and chips and munch away happily.

Benny hands you the candy bar you saw him grab earlier at the cash register “for dessert”. It has a cheesy text on the packaging about giving this to someone special. He grins and shrugs, “I know you love these”.

It’s such a simple gesture but you can’t help feeling really flattered and even more smitten with him than you already were. You don’t read too much into the text on the packaging, but even the fact that he would buy you a candy bar he knows you love - just because - warms your heart.

(What you don’t know is that the candy bars have lots of different texts to choose from, and that Benny specifically picked “give this to someone special” instead of “give this to a friend”. There was also “give this to someone you love”, but Benny worried that might scare you off.)

--------

After you’re both done with snacking you try to think of what to do next, still reluctant to pronounce this night to be over, you get an idea.

“You know what I would really like to do right now?” you ask Benny, looking out over the water that looks so tempting. “Go swim,” you announce, turning to look at him.

“You don’t have a swimsuit with you, do you?” Benny asks, turning to look at you too.

“No… But there’s no one here,” you point out with your eyebrows raised in challenge.

Benny looks at you for a few beats with a blank expression on his face, before shrugging “Alright,” and throwing off his hoodie and t-shirt, jeans following next. “What are you waiting for?” he shouts over his shoulder as he jumps from the pier into the water.

You’re left sitting there with your mouth open, blinking rapidly as you try to catch up with the fast turn of events. Shaking your head, you stand up and shrug off your clothes before quickly running after Benny and getting into the refreshing water.

The night is still warm, and the water feels wonderful. You swim to catch up with Benny.

“You know, it’s pretty dark here but I’ve basically seen you naked now,” he remarks, waggling his eyebrows, and you snort with laughter.

“Benny, you’re not allowed to make me laugh in the water or I’ll drown,” you try to say sternly.

“Oh sweetheart, I wouldn’t let you drown,” he answers in a surprisingly serious voice.

Suddenly the energy between you is full of.. something. Something new and buzzing, sort of scary but also exciting. Something you can’t quite explain. You’re swimming around each other, looking at each other intently, but not daring to say anything that would break the moment and burst the bubble.

Someone else does that for you.

A couple of teenage girls, you’d guess around 18 years old, stumble on to the pier and immediately notice you two in the water. The other girl lets out a shriek and tightens her hold on the towel around her, and before you can even try to reassure them that everything is fine, they run off giggling and shrieking some more. Evidently, they had had the same idea for a nighttime swim but found the place already occupied.

“Yeahhhh, maybe we should put some clothes on before someone calls the police,” Benny suggests dryly.

You two climb out of the water giggling and grinning broadly. You don’t have any towels with you since you didn’t exactly plan this impromptu skinny-dipping session, but Benny gives you his hoodie to help keep you warm.

Sitting back down next to Benny you’re even closer together now than earlier, ever so slowly inching closer and closer to each other. Both of you think you could pass it off as huddling for warmth if the other were to question it, but somehow you know that won’t be an issue.

Soon enough you’re snuggling together on the waterfront overlooking the sea. You stay quietly like that for some time, maybe fifteen minutes, maybe more. It’s hard to tell when the world is so still and quiet around you.

Suddenly you think that this is it, this is the moment you’ve been waiting for. In all honesty you sort of enjoy the pining stage of new relationships, but right now you feel like you might burst if you keep these feelings inside you any longer.

You turn and burrow your head into the crook of his neck and decide that you will have to take the leap now. You start pressing gentle kisses on his neck and hear Benny’s breath hitch at the first contact of your lips on his skin. He goes still as a statue, but you can feel more than hear his unsteady breathing at your actions. You’re practically vibrating with nervous excitement as you work your way up to his jaw and towards his lips.

Taking one final deep breath you close your eyes, not daring to look at Benny in the eye right now, as you bring your lips to meet his.

The kiss is sweet and unhurried, and yet your head is swimming and your whole body is buzzing with it as you melt into each other. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt, which just proves that everything really is different - better - with Benny. You pull away when you find yourself quickly out of breath just from feeling so much.

You finally dare to open your eyes to find Benny gazing at you with a dazed expression that surely mirrors your own and you slowly beam at each other, not feeling the need for words just now. Maybe you couldn’t even find them if you tried.

You settle back against his chest and the two of you stay like that for the rest of the night, sometimes spending long moments just kissing each other, sometimes talking quietly, sometimes just enjoying each other’s presence.

--------

Around five in the morning, when the sun is already getting up, you finally start to really feel the need for sleep. But this time it doesn’t feel wrong to leave and go home, since you’ll be going home together.

Later that day you wake up to a good morning, sweetheart in Benny’s arms where you fell asleep on his couch, tired but happier than you’ve ever felt in your life.

#benny miller fanfiction #benny miller x reader #benny miller x gn!reader #benny miller x you #triple frontier fanfiction #i still don't know what i'm doing #i accidentally wrote something #writer wednesday #garrett hedlund fanfiction

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