#its a breath of fresh air to just sit and chat about the hidden depths and conflicts (and inconsistencies!) of all these characters

[bisclavret]

#she won the game of thrones!! god that's such a good way to put it bc YEAH she DID didn't she#i've always said one of my absolute favorite shots of the show is that last shot of her sitting righteous and regal on that throne#-after arthur's death. there's so much strength to her poise in that shot you can't help but get the sense that she's going to Get Shit Done#and it's because we've SEEN her be this steadfast moral compass the whole show as well as how well she grew into her role as queen#i just wish we'd seen MORE of it bc you're all right - that kind of transformation does not happen by accident!!#she sacrificed so much to get where she did and it does her such a disservice to chalk it all up to her love of arthur#(as the show would have us believe)#when we've all seen how much love and kindness she's capable of in general towards everyone#it only makes sense that someone with so much heart goodwill and SENSE would would want to be in a position where she can DO something#anyway! the king is dead! LONG LIVE QUEEN GUINEVERE! @life-as-a-ghost

there's a palpable missing link in gwen's characterization that the show has almost hinted at but never explored in a satisfactory way and after hours of riffing with @morganadismay i think it might be summarized with just. ambition? on a show as juvenile in its moral politics as bbc merlin ambition might be seen as a hunger for something and therefore a sinful bad thing so gwen just seemed to kind of seamlessly and elegantly rise to power, but honestly when you attribute a sense of ambition to her, the entire character that is guinevere clicks into place:

she has the most solid moral compass out of everyone in that castle - and she knows it. by her late teens she is already lady morgana's servant (morgana who, at this point, is the progressive and rebellious "adoptive" daughter of the king - perhaps someone to stay close to if you want to see reform?) and she flocks to merlin the second she sees him stand up to the prince. then, as soon as she realizes prince arthur actually listens to what she has to say and that it has an effect on his actions (makes him more progressive, open-minded, and class conscious) she subtly moves her interest from merlin and morgana onto him.

((affection is a propelling part of all these decisions, of course, anyone that's seen how gwen treats people doesn't doubt that it's with genuine love and kindness and care for their well-being. i'm just trying to argue that there's more to her than that, or rather that it's precisely this love that is driving her ambition as well:))

the show is written in such a way that only one person per episode can have a braincell so gwen's cleverness is often cast to the wayside so another character can have a go at using their brain, but we can all agree she is overall the smartest character out of the core four. and when you're as smart and full of love and worry as gwen is, it's intolerable to acutely feel the kingdom's injustices and do nothing about them. people often talk about how gwen is impossible to upset or make angry because she is just that empathetic and understanding and can easily put herself in people's shoes. these are definitely elements of gwen's personality, but i don't care how empathetic you are, when someone kills your dad - a sweet, innocent man - in the name of tyrannical ethnic cleansing of people with magic, you do not, you cannot brush it away. especially if you are as clever and empathetic as we know gwen to be.

and yet that's what she seems to do. in one of the most tone-deaf and frustrating and nonsensical conversations in the entire show, she tells merlin she would not kill uther, the mad tyrant king that just killed her fucking dad and is killing so many people on a daily basis, because then she would be just as bad as him. and i do think she believes this. because that's how she was written. however, there were other ways for her to show her displeasure with the royal family after they killed her literal dad. and she chose none. instead, she stayed close and hardly ever acknowledged her huge, enormous loss (elyan had been away for years and she had no mother to speak of - they killed her only family).

because she's strong? sure. but have you lost a loving parent? strength has nothing to do with what that sort of grief does to you. and i think it is precisely through that grief that gwen makes her choice to stick around and see this relationship with the royal family through as far as it can go. she lets her anger solidify into determination - determination to turn arthur into a better version of his father so these injustices have a chance at stopping once he's king.

she lets go of lancelot. she becomes more feminine, her hair longer and her corsets tighter every time we see her. she tolerates arthur's indecisiveness and brashness and morgana's increasing outbursts of cruelty. she never fully seems to expect to become queen, always quick to offer to let go of arthur for The Greater Good (merlin could take a page from her book), but that's precisely what makes her ambition a good trait. it's steadfast, it's logical, and the end goal isn't power for the sake of power. it's a slow, borderline sisyphean climb up the social ladder until she has stable enough footing to enact the reform that her contemporaries were too undiplomatic to achieve.

TL;DR you cannot get where gwen gets by the end of the show through true love or luck or a series of accidents. it would be a disservice to gwen's character to ignore the hints of calculating ambition in her actions and to pretend the compromises she had to make to get where she ends up were easy. what's amazing about her is that she is the sort of lovely, warm woman whose kindness could get taken advantage of until there is nothing left, but instead she turned her love and wisdom into an asset that helped her, essentially, win the game of thrones. i just wish the writers had let this side of her shine through.

[enigmatist17]

Same Dance (Rhys Strongfork x Timothy Lawrence)

So So

Same trauma boys

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

When the news of Moxxi taking over the fabled Handsome Jack’s Casino, Rhys couldn’t help but be happy for her and her crew. No one ever ventured near after several spacecraft were pulled in and never freed, and for seven years it sat there untouched and unopened by the rest of the galaxy. It sat until Moxxi had waited for the fall of the Calypso Twins to settle down, and the Vault Hunters who now resided on Sanctuary III were more than happy to help her with her vendetta. 

Now, Moxxi called in several favors. She wanted to make the casino something great, make it fair enough yet rid of the corruption that Jack had sunk into its very bones. Rhys Strongfork was one such man, having used some of her help in his early days of rebuilding Promethea. The now CEO of Atlas, still running around and rebuilding after his own War, had promised whatever he could. Part of his aid was to help reprogram the loader bots, as well as to help quietly rid or redistribute the massive army hidden in the depths of the casino. Only he and those who had helped with the takeover knew of its existence, and it was better left that way. Rhys, already on edge of entering Hyperion property after so long, as well as leaving his growing relationship, did his best to keep his nervousness and irritation on the down-low. 

Unfortunately, no one thought to tell him of a certain doppelganger. 

Rhys had drawn his gun before he had even realized, the other man slowly raising his hands as Rhys did everything he could not to start hyperventilating. Thoughts, ones he had thought long buried, were starting to creep up and into the forefront of his mind.

No, I killed him, he can’t be here, he can’t be here, he can’t be here, he ca-

“I’m not Jack.” It’s a whisper of a thing, Rhys shaking his head slightly to push his rising panic away. “I-I’m not Jack.”

“Then who the hell are you?!” He didn’t mean to scream, but Rhys had thought he would never deal with Jack, not after everything years ago.

Helios enters his mind, and Rhys feels sick as he lowers his gun.

That man isn’t Jack, he isn’t sneering and belittling and mocking his very being. No, this man sounded just as terrified as Rhys felt, and that only made his stomach churn. Well, that and remembering of how he had killed thousands of people to finally kill Jack off once and for all. It’s not until he looks at the man, really looks, and sees the crack of a mask that made his blood run cold, does he remember. Scores of men who bore the same faces, the same smiles, the same dead look behind their eyes as they were sent off to be like the man they were modeled after. 

“You’re one of the doppelgangers...aren’t you?” Rhys clears his throat, holstering his gun to the relief of both men. He gets a nod, and after an awkward pause, Rhys offers a hand. “I apologize, maybe we should start over. Rhys Strongfork, and yourself?”

“Timothy Lawrence.’ The other gives an awkward smile, holding out his left hand instead of his right. “I uh...sorry, still don’t have a right hand yet…”

“What?” Rhys moves to shake Timothy’s hand, flesh meeting flesh as Rhys zeroes in on the covered up stump on Timothy’s right arm. Whatever happened was fairly recent, glancing up when the man gave a slight cough, hiding his hand behind his back. “Sorry, it’s just, what happened? I mean, if you want to tell me.” The other shrugs, Rhys releasing his other hand and taking a step back to give him some space.

“Ah ya know...had to save this whole station.” Timothy gave a shy shrug. “Course got trapped and shit, so the only way to do it was to cut off my hand.”

“Would you believe me if I had to do something similar a long time ago?” Timothy cocks a look at the other, who just smiles and begins to regale Timothy with the story of what he had to do after Helios fell.

Conveniently he leaves out the part about Jack, figuring it didn’t matter.

It’s not until months later the subject is brought up. Rhys has had a long day of business dealings, still absorbing Maliwan and making it something better under Atlas’s hand. He’s tired and upset. His frogurt stand was closed for the day, the coffee had run out, and his back ached something fierce.  Rubbing at his eyes as he enters his penthouse, Rhys was looking forward to sitting down and just forgetting Atlas even existed. 

“You’re finally home!” Rhys doesn’t stop the smile that spreads the moment he hears that familiar voice, dropping his bag by the door and neatly stacking his shoes beside it. Spread out on the couch that had been occupying his thoughts since he left for work, Rhys spies one Timothy Lawrence cuddling up on the couch with a shy grin. Rhys spies some fresh coffee on the table beside him, and he can’t help but sigh in delight at the sight.

“You are brilliant, absolutely brilliant. You would NOT believe the utter disaster of a day I had.” Rhys pouted, taking his tie and belt off before flopping down onto Timothy with a purr. It’s a shuffle of gangly limbs before they are both comfortable, Rhys cybernetic arm grabbing the coffee and downing half of it. Timothy just hums, nuzzling the back of Rhys’ neck as he cuddles the other close. There were days Timothy didn’t say much, a byproduct of being alone for over seven years, and showed how he felt through gestures. Sometimes he would clean up the penthouse and then keep to himself, other days he would be the biggest love bug Rhys had ever seen, almost pleading for contact. It never bothered the CEO, just lying in content silence as some serial played on across the room.

“...Vaughn called today, and we chatted for a long while.” Timothy speaks softly, stirring Rhys from his slow descent into a nap.

“Is he comin’ home soon?” Rhys yawned, burrowing his face into the crook of Timothy’s neck.

“Another month he said…” The way that Timothy hesitates pulls any sort of sleep from Rhys’ mind, the other drawing back. Emerald eyes, flecked with gold are looking right at the other, and the indescribable gaze makes Rhys instantly on edge.

“What’s the matter?”

“...why didn’t you tell me about Jack?” The name, so simple and short, turns the room heavy and frigid for both men. Rhys, usually ready with a remark, can’t find the words, and Timothy just does everything he can not to have a panic attack. They sit there, Rhys eventually sitting up with a quiet sigh. It’s only to move and take Timothy into his arms, feeling the slight tremble the other was clearly trying to hide. 

“...I don’t know where to start, except with' I'm sorry.” It’s a start, and thank the universe Timothy doesn’t pull away. Timothy can hear the shaky breath Rhys takes, one he only does if he’s nervous or scared of something, and guilt starts to creep up at making his lover so uncomfortable. Rhys has to start speaking after quite a few tries, unsure of what to start with.

“It started with a deal to buy a Vault Key.” Nice and easy, just start from the top. “Vaughn and I needed access at one point, and we had found some higher clearance access from someone obsessed with...him.”  It’s better not to say that name, and Rhys just feels the words start to tumble non-stop now that he’s begun. 

“He was in the drive, and because I was stupid and plugged it into my cybernetics, he just...was there.” A breath is drawn, and Helios comes to his mind. “I had to destroy Helios to stop him...I had let him free and because of that I...I had to…” Rhys bites his lip, leaning his head into the warm palm caressing the side of his face. “I killed so many people that day...and after all of that, I killed him again. I had to rip my arm, temple connector, and eye out...god it hurt so much.”  Rhys sighed, his arm still acting out at times from nerve damage he had inflicted on himself due to the event. “He is gone...and despite the monster he was, he is always included among the names I memorized from the crash.” Timothy frowns softly, pressing a kiss to Rhys’ forehead. It had been shortly after he moved to Promethea, that he had borne witness to Rhys’ ritual on the day Helios had crashed. 

The usually bubbly man had just sat up on the roof, staring out at the city with his prosthetic downstairs as far away as he had possibly been able to place it. Vaughn merely made sure he drank something, only touching Rhys to place a blanket around his shoulders once night had fallen. Rhys just screamed guilt and self-hatred the whole day, slipping into bed between Timothy and Vaughn sometime during the night. Zer0 had taken care of the meetings the next day, and the entire day had been spent in bed with every comfort food that could be grabbed from their kitchen. 

“I’m sorry.” Timothy presses another kiss, then another as Rhys just gives a weak sigh. “I am so sorry you had to go through that.”

“You and me...stupid young kids who idolized a monster...and got screwed after his death.” Timothy hums, and Rhys closes his eyes as he takes in the others' warmth.

“I’m just glad it opened our doors to each other. I mean, what were the chances you would give me a chance?”

“I don’t know, but after seeing you smile for the first time, you had me.” Timothy feels a blush creep up his neck, and Rhys just cuddles up as close as possible. The air is no longer heavy, instead filled with a familiar warmth as they just take in each other. 

A monster Jack may have been, but his reign, in the end, had united those destined for each other.

[19mrs-barnes17]

As Long As I Can Get - Chapter One: Barnes

Summary: Bucky has been through so much in his life, but something brings him back home and he’s forced to face his past. [prompt: Small Town Lovers AU]

Part: 1/5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader [AU]

Warnings: mentions of loss and past trauma

Word count: 3,243

A/N: Alrighty folks, here it is! Part 1! 

~

Welcome to Brightbarrow. Home of small-town comfort and hospitality. 

“Home sweet home.” His eyes scanned over the letters like they were those in a chapter of an old book from his childhood. A chapter he had closed and hidden away.

With the sun rising the place looked like a picture-perfect postcard, one he had received at least 3 times over the years. A final deep breath released as he pressed his foot down on the gas. 

Crossing the town line the guilt in his heart began to increase its density, tugging him into the depths of the land. It had been 10 or so years since he had lived in Brightbarrow, residing overseas and then in New York. He had almost missed the calm of the rural town, however, the noise of New York did something this town never could. It cleared his mind, put it in focus. Until he began to discover that loss followed him wherever he went and not even the noise of New York could drown it out.

Something in his heart called him back. Back to where it all began. To where he had made the best and worst kind of memories, hoping the comfort would creep back into his soul.

The light began to reflect off the glass of the shops, splashing warm colors across the bricks and the side panels of each storefront. Oranges, reds and yellows melded into golden and rosy colors of the early morning. The beams of light painting the daycare where he learned the alphabet, the bookstore where he had his first kiss, the alleyways he ducked into on the nights he got into fights. 

There were so many memories throughout the town, flashes of his youth running wild in his mind as he slowly rolled on by. Images of smiles in his mind and laughter ringing in his ears. His heart softened at the sensation. It was hard to imagine he'd ever want to leave this place. But he had. Desperately. 

A picturesque town that had become too suffocating for him to stand. So he walked away, found work in the big apple, and did his best not to look back. He kept himself busy to repress the guilt and avoid the hole that was growing inside of him. Christmas used to be the only time he came back here, and that had been enough. Well, not for him. Or his mother. But enough to keep from losing contact altogether. 

It’s still too early for any other cars to be on the road, most shops not opening for a few more hours and yet another set of headlights met his in a quick pass by. The blue Chevy Cruze turned down a side street that led to the highway, someone was leaving town. He only knew one family who left town at this ungodly hour, and he knew the driver of that specific car. It’s a small town, everyone knows everyone here. A blessing and a curse.

“James?” Her eyes were bewildered, her brow knit together in a perplexed manner as she peered at her son from behind the door. “Are you…”

“I’m home Mama. For good.” In a lightning-quick moment, the door was flung open and he was ensnared into his mother’s arms, her hold on him tight as though she feared he’d slip away if given the chance. “Woah, I still need air Mom.”

“Oh you hush now, cooped up in that smoggy city for years with hardly a phone call here and there. I will hug you in the manner I wish and you will deal.” Her voice was firm in its demand, nothing much changed. “Now you come inside, your brothers will bring your things in.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Hardly a thing had changed since he left, the first or second time, each picture frame and piece of furniture was exactly where it had been 10 years ago. It was almost a haunting depiction of the place he knew, a place stuck in time. Ever since his father’s death when he was 13 this place had remained exactly as it was and that didn’t settle well with him.

Only two or three frames where ones he did not recall ever laying eyes on, though his typical visits were not lengthy and he did his best not to pay much attention to the place. They could be old, new, or somewhere in between for all he knew. All but one held a photo he recognized, one held a picture of him in army uniform and the other was an old photo of his father in his navy attire.  However, it was the last photo that held his attention because it included a non-family member.

For some reason, he didn’t recall a photo being taken of him at the time, but here it hung upon his mother’s wall. A 12-year-old James Buchanan Barnes with an 11-year-old Y/N Fairfield on his back, his gaze glancing over his shoulder at her features, her dimples indicating that she had been laughing as he paraded her around. Her smile was bright but his was, in a rare moment, equally so. His chest grew tight at the memory of such simpler times, such endless delight and friendship. Times he knew he’d never get back.

“That was one of the last days I saw you smiling so carefree, so light.” His mother’s fingers gently run over the glass covering the photo, her eyes sad and tired. “Come to think of it, it's one of the last times I saw her that happy. One of the last times you asked her over before you closed yourself off.”

“I didn’t mean to.” His mother cupped his cheek in her hand and caressed his cheek, a soft smile tainted by longing stretching across her face. 

“I know sweetheart, I miss him every day. But I don’t want you to hide yourself away anymore, no one in this town holds it against you. His death hit this place like a hurricane and we’re still recuperating.” She disappears into the kitchen and he’s left staring at the memories he had fought so hard to ignore. Guilt once more crept into his heart.

That night he missed the muted noise of the city as he tossed and turned restlessly for hours. His mind was crowded with memories and reminders of his past, of his mistakes, and of his greatest regret. 

“Not that one Buck, next to it.” His fingers fiddled with the tools before him, eyes searching for the one he needed. As his little hands grabbed ahold of the proper tool he turned to face his instructor whose eyes watched him with a soft pride. His father smiled with a curt nod. “Bring it here buddy. I’ll show you how it works.”

When he reached his father the image moved, the warm tones shifting into cooler ones as the sky lit up with stars. His eyes wandered about as he gawked at the constellations, blissfully unaware of anything else. A set of hands covered his eyes and muttered a guess who, his heart racing at the sound of the voice. 

“Daddy!” He turned to hug his father, who had just returned from a trip out of town, holding tightly to his legs. 

“Come on buddy, I’ll show you some new ones.” His father lifted him up onto his torso and began to point at different constellations, each came with a story and a name. Most he would later forget but there was one star he never did.

“You see that big star right there?” He nodded, eyes fixated upon the glowing object. “That’s the North Star. I want you to remember something when you look at it…”

A loud clang erupted outside his room startling him to his feet, dressing at a rapid rate to investigate. His baby sister sat in the hall rubbing one of her ankles and muttering to herself in an annoyed tone. He cleared his throat and her eyes snapped up to meet his, a gasp escaping her lips before a smile overtook her features. 

“Bucky! I thought Ma was messing with us, but then I saw your car outside. Jake and Nick are already bringing things in, I was on my way to wake you.” Bucky shook his head and smiled at her incredulously.

“Mission accomplished Becca.” She smirked but narrowed her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him. He leaned forward and offered his hand which she reluctantly accepted, picking up the objects that fell from one of the many boxes littering the hall. “These geniuses didn’t think to just place them in my room?”

Becca shrugged before disappearing down the stairs while Bucky began to move box after box alongside the empty wall by his closet. He opened each in search of his clothes before grabbing a clean set and hopping into the shower. Downstairs smelt of bacon and eggs, a lone plate sitting upon the counter wrapped to keep it fresh, a note stuck to the saran wrap. 

Enjoy breakfast! Had to open the diner. Love, Mom.

Today he had to find a job, some way to maintain a steady income so he could get out of the house. As much as he loved his mother’s cooking and how nice it would be to wake to this every day, he couldn’t. Every hall, room, and picture frame held a story that reminded him of what he had lost and he wasn’t sure how long he could stomach it.

He left his keys behind, opting to walk the sidewalks instead. The sun warmed his skin, heating him under its blazing focus and forcing him to duck into the nearest place for a drink. The corner store, Oasis, was nearly empty this time of day with only a few stragglers not yet at the diner for breakfast or brunch. He was grateful to be berated by only two or three people throwing out where have you been’s and ‘how’s New York?’. 

He eyed store windows for signs, the occasional curious neighbor popping out the door to chat. A few sent him about the town and soon enough word was out that he was in the market for a job. Things always spread like wildfire here, everyone knew about everything before too long. Hilda and Denise were no help in the matter, being the town gossips and all. He knew they were his best shot and yet he still approached the two elderly women with caution.

“James Barnes? Is that you sweet pea? Come give us a hug dear it’s been far too long.” Denise smiled mischievously, a twinkle in her eye. 

“Ladies, I’m in need of your expertise.” The two women giggled in response, proclaiming how flattered they were to be sought out. “I am in need of a job.”

“We know handsome, and you’re in luck. I hear that Thomas Geldin is looking for a worker, he’s putting up some new housing down the way.” She’s leaning forward like it's some secret she isn't supposed to know much about. “Lucky for you he’s in your momma’s diner at this very moment.”

“Thank you ladies, your ears are a gift.” They wave him off with tender smiles before turning back to chatting, an occasional glance through the window behind the bench.

He barely makes it through the door before he’s swept aside by his brother, Nick, sitting him at the counter a few stools away from Thomas himself. Nick returns to the register but turns to face Bucky, his features implying that he’s waiting for something.

“What’s with the look, Nick?” 

“Why are you back?” Nick’s eyes are locked onto his older brother, Bucky squirming a little under the intensity. “Couldn’t break mom’s heart any longer?”

“I’m sorry, I never meant to. I just couldn’t stay here and I had to get out.” He tried to convey his guilt to his little brother, the regret of leaving them all behind.

“So you’re here to stay?” Nick eyed him warily as he began his routine counter wipe-down. “No running off again when it gets real?”

“No. I’m getting a job and I’m gonna move into one of the open townhouses.” His little brother remains skeptical, but nods. “I swear, I’m not abandoning anyone again.”

“Good.” His brother smiled softly, a pinch of uncertainty hidden in his eyes. “You want anything?”

True to his word he got a job in labor from Thomas Geldin, the pay enough to rely on that he could put a down payment on his new home. His mother insisted he stay for dinner and one last night before his brothers helped him move his things in, the next day. After an exhausting day’s work unloading the boxes that contained his life and beginning on some alterations, Bucky treated his little brothers to pizza and some beer. They sat telling stories of the past year, confiding and binding in ways they hadn’t since they were children. For once, he felt like he had made the right decision.

With his sleep pattern already going to hell, he sat in his window seat, eyes scanning over the vast array of stars splattered across the sky. Finding the North Star once more provided the lifelong comfort his father had given him, the last piece of him he had. The last comfort.

Across the street he noticed a single light flicker on, a figure moving across the room and back again several times before it went dark again. A few minutes later he watched a woman he hadn’t seen in years pile into her car and pull away from the curb and drive off.

Y/N Fairfield lived just across the street from his new home, and the sight of her brought back emotions he’d long forgotten.

Bucky was restless and his first day of work was tomorrow, he needed to tire himself out and so he opted to take a late-night walk around town. The dark shadows on the empty town reminded him of a ghost town. Not a soul was in sight, apart from the wandering man who couldn’t seem to keep himself asleep. He was exhausted physically by the time he returned, his mind still filled to the brim. 

Headlights created a glow around him, bouncing off the buildings and almost blinding his vision momentarily. He couldn’t help but glance across the street at her, his eyes watching as she emerged from the vehicle in scrubs looking exhausted. Her eyes flitted up almost as if she could sense his gaze on her, brow knitting at the sight before her. She took a moment to look him over before sending a lazy wave, eyes reflecting the sadness he felt inside as he looked upon her with immense guilt.

He turned away after she entered her building and made his way up to his room where he flopped onto his bed and slowly fell into a decent sleep.

At his lunch break, he wandered back into town, Donny’s Crafty Tools catching his eye, and reminded him of the work he still had to do after his shift. Hilda and Denise chatted him up before letting him enter the shop, the bell ringing as he stepped over the threshold. His eyes fell on the one person in town he kept constant contact with, the only one who knew he was coming home. 

“Steve.” His best friend’s back is to him, his focus shattered the moment Bucky’s voice sounds out, turning about and pulling him into a hug.

“It’s good to see you, Buck. Been way too long.” When they parted he motioned toward the pile of envelopes littering his desk.

“Far too long, I’ve missed you too. How have things been?” Steve’s cheeks flush as Bucky picks up a photo from the counter. “Must be pretty good if you got pretty women sending you photos, and I don’t blame ‘em you’ve grown so much since high school.”

Steve was different than he was back then, less antsy to get into fights defending others and trying to do the right thing. He seemed more level-headed, the kind to talk someone down from a fight or inspire them to be better. The skinny little guy who would pounce on a guy harassing a girl had become the man who would inspire strength in those being victimized.

And now? Now he had fallen in love with a woman who could hold her own, nothing but respect for her strength and confidence in her value as a person. This woman had a hand in inspiring him to be a source of inspiration himself.

Bucky had to meet this girl one day and thank her for helping his best friend in realizing what was in him all along, and showing him how to use his influence. That was something Bucky never had the ability to do.

“I met her during a semester abroad, London.”

“Oh yeah? How was art school?” Steve shrugged, nothing too huge about it but now he had the skill to make art people buy on the regular. “What’s her name?”

“Peggy Carter. She works in a British intelligence agency, kind of a total badass.” Bucky watches Steve smile softly at the photo, a longing in his eyes. 

“Just your type.” Steve shoved his shoulder and placed the photo on his desk. “Care to help me with some remodeling later?”

“Anytime. Just give me a call.” Bucky gave him a clap on the shoulder before bidding him farewell and making his way to the door. “And Buck?”

“Yeah.” One hand on the door, he turns to look back at Steve whose face turns serious. 

“Don’t be a stranger.” Bucky doesn’t need to ask what he means, he knows exactly who Steve is talking about. The missing member of their old trio.

“She’s not going to want to see me after what I did.” Steve’s eyes soften, shaking his head in disagreement.

“You can’t know that. Just promise me if you run into her you’ll try?” Bucky shifts his weight, unsure he could handle that interaction. “For me?”

“I promise.” Exiting the store he waved the ladies goodbye and rushed to the diner for the last 20 minutes of his break, his promise taking over his focus the rest of the day.

How could she ever forgive him for cutting her out of the picture, like an unwanted memory? But he had to do it. There was no other way.

Y/N Fairfield was a different kind of friend than Steve because while Steve had been there since they were babies, Y/N appeared out of nowhere. Steve lost his father before he was born and his mother passed while Bucky was overseas, so they had always had a shared experience and connection. 

But Y/N? She was an anomaly in his life, not his friend like Steve because there were few kids in town and they had stuck up for one another. No, she met him by chance, their parents not friends but friendly enough to invite one another to parties out of hospitality. One trip to the diner and they were inseparable, almost as much as he and Steve were. 

But he could never get too close, not after the warning he was given. The reminder that echoes in his head from time to time. 

You never know, it could be possible.

~

Tags: @qtmeryr @broken-hearted-barnes @asphalt-cocktail @gstran18​ @cantnkrusshedevil​ @just-trying-to-survive-marvel​

If you want to join the series tag send an ask!

[jungkookiebus]

the future is not fine | jhs

Genre: dystopian au, smut Pairing: club scene!Hoseok x club scene!reader Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: heavy drug use (the reader takes acid), mentions alcohol and smoking weed, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, hallucinations, this is the dark future where people have ruined the Earth and are paying the consequences. Summary: In a world where everything went downhill after 2020, people are itching to forget and live lives without care. For some, that means going to mysterious parties hosted by an anonymous donor. The text comes through in a group chat, with numbers you’ll never save or remember, and you drop whatever it is you’re doing to go. In the future, when the world is rampant with economic disaster and war, you can self-medicate yourself with the flick of a wrist and succumb to the music. That’s when you meet him, the mysterious dancer that brings color into your dull life, if just for a moment.

The sky was a burst of oranges, purples, reds, and bright yellows. The salt of the ocean was fresh on the air as you swayed to the music in the breeze. You opened your eyes momentarily to stare out over the water, watching the sun ripple across its diaphanous surface. ‘Party starts at sunset.’ the invitation had said. Yet another rather anonymous party at some rich kid’s house. Everyone came to these parties, but only when you ran with these crowds. The only way someone could be indoctrinated into this “elite” club of sorts, was to be brought on by someone in the chain. Most people realized this life wasn’t for them amongst the drugs and alcohol. So, they left. Which was all good and fine because it kept the numbers even; making it easier to host at more anonymous venues. But there were those who had been around for a while, like you. Two years into this scene and there was no end in sight. You’d exchange knowing glances amongst those that stayed, between you and the drug dealer who never changed as you made an exchange for ecstasy, and sometimes the rotating bartenders. The beach house you were at this time looked to be someone’s winter home and your party was its squatter. The invitation came through the group text, none of which were saved to your phone because you had no need to know these people. You had smiled when you’d gotten it, smiled sweetly at your date across the table and said, “I’m sorry, this just isn’t working.” Watching his face contort into total shock as you stood from the table, grabbed your jacket, and winked before leaving the restaurant. Pulling a joint from the pocket on your dress, you held your hand in front to block the wind to light it, and took a long, burning drag. You didn’t need to look at your phone again, having memorized the address the moment you read it.

So, here you were, among the others who all showed up as soon as the sun kissed the horizon. A low, thrumming beat pulsed up from your feet, tingling in your fingertips, and left a numb feeling across your lips. You had smoked more once you arrived, wandered outside, and that’s where you currently found yourself. The sun still warmed, but the more it slipped, the cooler it got. At some point someone had turned on the outside heaters, but you barely noticed the people around you. The second time you decided to open your eyes is when you saw him. The sun glinted against the natural blonde highlights in his brown hair. His eyes were closed too as he danced to the music. His body moved like water and he moved so fluidly that he had you hypnotized instantly, swaying on the spot as your eyes kept up with his movements. He wore a loose white t-shirt, baggy pants, and expensive sneakers that moved just as smoothly as him. He moved as if he came out of the womb dancing. Your eyes slid shut as the…third? Fourth? Fifth? Hit overtook you. When you remembered him again, he was gone, and he slipped from your memory along with all your other thoughts.

The next text came through on the shittiest of Tuesdays. You were sitting at your desk when your phone vibrated across your desk. The address was given, a previous venue hosted by god knows who, and was one of your favorite spots. It was an old, abandoned telescope that was once part of the now defunct space program. That one president, back in 2020 when he had gotten re-elected, had pretty much ruined the world as you knew it. That’s why these parties existed, to forget and move on. So, here you were, standing in front of the door ready to flash your invitation to the masked bouncer. He nodded once at you and stood to the side to allow you in. The lights were off, but soft lights, inlaid into the floor, shined upwards, not even reaching more than six feet. Every now and again a strobe light would come on as the beat picked up tempo. That was when you saw him again and your memory was jogged. Under the strobe lights, he looked downright mechanical in his movements. Again, alone. Again, eyes closed and feeling the music. This time you wanted to watch. The bar wasn’t far from the dance floor and you wanted to appreciate him. When the strobe lights ceased its assault on your eyes, you saw him lit from below. It threw his features, half hidden under a cap, into sharp contrast. You watched as he spun, arms lifting towards the heavens, and saw that even his fingers were as elegant as the rest of him. That’s when Sam came by, of course his name wasn’t really Sam, but the local drug dealer needed something for people to call him. He sauntered up next to you, having seen you hundreds of times, half of his face hidden under a highly detailed fox mask.

“Anything for the lady tonight?”

“One sheet please,” you said waving your scanner bracelet over his.

“Open up,” he said.

You turned as he pulled a small, plastic container from his bag. Pulling a small sheet from it he reached out towards you. You opened your mouth, lifting your tongue, and let him drop the sheet there. Closing your mouth, you smiled at him as winked at you from behind the mask before walking away. Thirty minutes later and the strobe light was starting to look like a rainbow in your vision. Trails of multi-colored light followed the man as he danced, creating beautiful patterns in his wake. Your body seemed to melt into the floor as you watched him, but you wanted to touch those light trails. With some effort, you pushed off the bar, and trudged through what felt like jell-o. He shone brighter the closer you got, and the light was almost close enough to touch. Focused on the bright blues, reds, and greens in front of you, you reached out. A jolt of electricity coursed through you as he caught your wrist in his hand and pulled you forward. His hand caressed the back of your head, pulling you in closer so that he could lean into your ear.

“How long were you going to watch me until you decided to come over?” He leaned back as he ended the question. A pattern of suns moved across his black shirt, circling around, and coming back again in a celestial march. His eyes sparkled under his cap and you swore you saw stars there.

“Turn him into stars and form a constellation in his image.”

“And the first thing she ever says is a line from Shakespeare,” he chuckled.

“I can’t help it when you dance like that.”

His hand was still firm on the back of your head as he pulled your hips into his. You didn’t really have to dance. No one would question it; everyone was here for different reasons, but under the one unifying rule that everyone kept to themselves. The second you stepped into his personal space however, you were his. He had you dancing with him, nothing technical, but you still felt as if you were in a pool and he was pulling you through its depths. His sugared skin blurred into the soft glow behind him and he leaned forward again, placing his lips to your neck. The feeling struck like a meteor against your skin, warming the spot and spreading outwards in a shock wave. Peace flooded your system as he moved down your neck, kissing again.

“What’s your poison?” he asked as he ground his hips against you.

“I’m flying with the golden dragon,” you smiled.

“How are the lights?”

“Rainbow prisms and you have trails of it following you.”

“How poetic,” he smirked.

He placed a searing kiss against your lips, and it felt as if your skin had melted through his arms and onto the floor. You were still holding your breath when he pulled away.

“Breathe.”

The sigh you let out had him pulling you closer against him.

“Can I take you to a room?”

These venues always had rooms. Or, Rooms™. You had never heard anyone talk about rooms so reverently than when you were here. There were several of them scattered about depending on the location. All were equipped with brand new mattresses, linens, sometimes drugs, low lights, and fashioned to be soundproof. Everyone only went to a room for one reason.

“Yes.” You were still holding onto to him for dear life. He grasped you firmly around the waist and led you off the dance floor and into the dark halls of the building. Several rooms were fitted with two, small fuzzy lights of red and green. Occupied and unoccupied. He finally reached one with a green light and pushed the door inwards. It emanated a soft pink from within. A pink neon heart hung on the wall above the mattress. To the left was a shiny, low table laid out with more drugs and alcohol, ready to be scanned and taken. Speakers in the room played the music still pumping into the room of dancers. An old Grimes song poured through the speakers lazily. His lips were on yours as the locked slid shut in the door. He pushed your jacket from your shoulders, and you let it fall to the floor. Caressing that perfect jawline, you pulled him in closer to you as you pushed his cap off with your other hand. His soft brown hair came cascading out over his eyes as he leaned in to kiss you. They were the softest lips you had ever felt to date. His tongue was hot against yours, claiming your mouth as his own. He expertly undid your belt and pants, hooked his thumbs in both them and your panties, sliding them down and kneeling as he went. The light from the neon sign spread around the room in a blur, washing the palette absolutely in pink. Below you, his hair had turned a dark pink with lighter highlights. His tan skin had the lightest dusting of that rosy tone as he looked up at you with dark eyes. His fingers dragged down your hips leaving trails of pink honey, left to drip down your skin in jagged ribbons. His lips were on your hipbone now, tongue trailing along your skin. He placed a kiss above your clit and flicked his tongue on the hood. You moaned softly as you moved your hips against him. He gently moved your lips apart to lick at you more fully. You reached for his hair and you swore you saw glitter fall from those pink strands. The music changed then, from the slow melody to a fast paced track that had your heart racing. He pushed your hips against the wall behind you hard and you felt your breath leave your chest in a huff. He started to devour you as if you were the drug he had chosen for the night, forgetting about his woes as he buried himself in your cunt. You tugged at his roots as you doubled over. The stimulation had your thighs shaking and your knees buckling. His fingers dug into your hips as he forced you over the edge quickly. The room burst into light, glowing bright, and you closed your eyes against the burn. You felt as if you stood under a waterfall, drenched from head to toe in pleasure. Somehow, he had you from against the wall to your back on the soft mattress with minimal movement. The taste of you flooded your taste buds as he kissed you. The heat between the two of you was scorching. You tugged at his shirt until he pulled it over his head, revealing a well-toned body. The top you wore was cropped and what was the use of a bra tonight, so it was easy for him to just push the thin fabric up your chest. He wrapped his lips around your nipple as he ran his fingers down your stomach, leaving paths of light. Pushing two fingers inside of you, he sighed. You wrapped him in such warmth and wetness that he couldn’t wait to feel more of you. You reached between the two of you and worked his pants over his ass, enough to free him and have him in your hand. He moaned against you as you wrapped for fingers around his length, silk against silk, pre cum leaking at its tip, and becoming harder in your touch. Out of the corner of your eye you could see that the walls were rotating slowly around the room. The heart slipped into your vision before moving back out, creating a pink spotlight on the both of you wherever it went.

“What do you see?” he whispered against your chest.

“Walls are rotating.” You hissed as he sucked your nipple between his teeth.

“Fast or slow?” he asked as your nipple grazed his teeth when he pulled back. Your chest heaved forward, chasing him on its own will before you let out a breath and sunk back among the sheets.

“Slow.”

“Good.” You knew what he was doing. He was keeping your mood as calm as possible, having you focus on the pleasure and the absolute happiness coursing your veins. He knew exactly what he was working with.

Your hand fell from him as he sat up, but his fingers stayed firmly inside of you. He twisted them and hooked his fingers against your g-spot and pumped slowly. He managed to kick his pants off the rest of the way and sat up between your legs. Looking down, he was admiring what was laid out before him. Reaching out he grabbed your hand and pulled you to sitting. The walls rotated a little faster for a second before settling back into that steady rhythm. It was almost hypnotic, watching the neon heart travel the edge of the room.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes fixed on his and they shined just as bright as earlier. They were clear as night; small slivers of pink shown like tiny Milky Ways in their black depths. He looked at you as if the moon shown down on you and you alone. His fingers were out of you now, squeezing your thigh. He caressed your cheek sweetly as he brought your face to his. Your lips chased his as he moved back slowly, smiling as he went. His warm hand never left your cheek as he kept a breath’s distance away from you.

“What’s your name?” he whispered.

“_____.”

“_____.” He let your name roll off his tongue seductively and it fell out of his mouth like diamonds.

“Yours?” you were still fixated on his eyes; the pink Milky Way had grown brighter the closer it got.

“Hoseok.”

“Hoseoook.” You giggled lightly at the way it sounded coming from you.

His smile was bright, and he seemed to glow in the fuchsia monotony of the room.

“Turn around,” he said, his voice like caramel.

You did and started to get on your hands when he spoke.

“No, no, no. Sit up.”

You turned your head to look at him. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer until you felt his cock nestled in your ass cheeks. More of the pink honey cascaded across your skin as he ran his hands across your chest. One of his hands was between your legs from behind, pushing you upwards. You felt him nudging at your entrance and, adjusting yourself, you sat down. He gasped as you sunk down, your body taking him in as if he always belonged there. He kissed along your shoulder as you moved your hips, his fingers pressed firmly into your skin.

The music was a low pulse with a synth playing a slow tune accompanied by some electronic drumbeats. The neon heart was just sliding into view again when you closed your eyes. Your movements felt slow, but everything felt so good. He kissed the back of your neck as he too started to move. You gasped when he thrust up into you, while barely letting you move with his firm grip on your hip. His name fell from your lips in soft moans and you heard him sigh in satisfaction. When you opened your eyes again you saw geometric patterns of random pulsing color decorate the still turning walls. Your body was strung like a bow, tense, and you refused to breathe. He brought you closer and closer with each thrust and your pussy felt as if it were getting hotter. When your orgasm hit, so did the full force of the hallucinogen. What you weren’t expecting was the explosion of neon animals that now rotated around the room, but they weren’t just any and all animals, there was a wide array of sea creatures swimming around you as if in an aquarium. A neon great white swam by followed closely by a sea turtle and a school of small fish.

“What do you see?” he was still thrusting into you steadily as he spoke.

“Neon octopus…and fish.”

“Do you feel good?”

Your eyes closed, letting the cool water you believed was there to wash over you.

“So good,” you whispered.

He moved you from his lap, rotating you lithely, and he was soon hovering over you. Behind his shoulder and across the ceiling swam a large neon whale, but you weren’t focused on it right now. Hoseok was above you, studying your face intently as he bit his bottom lip. He slid into you with you barely noticing his movements, so he didn’t miss the way your eyes widened before slipping shut, mouth open in ecstasy as he worked you open again. He was up on his hands so he could still watch you writhe beneath him and the expressions on your face.

He leaned down again after a moment, propped up on his elbow, and his lips were at your ear. “I want you to see the universe.”

He reached down, two fingers on your clit as he rotated his hips into you. Fresh tears welled up in your eyes and your body warmed from within. Your fingers dug into the sheets as he expertly worked his cock and fingers in tandem. A scream was trapped in your throat as you came, and your eyes opened as it peaked. You could see that he was still watching your face but behind him, the scene had changed. The room from the floor to about four feet was unchanged. The rest had turned into the night sky and what you would have described the Big Bang to look like. Explosions of color flashed before your eyes as stars formed and died out. Green, pink, and blue gases hovered around a small Milky Way. Comets passed by and so did passing constellations. You felt as if you were seeing a symphony personified, the music of the universe laid out before you.

When you came down and was able to focus somewhere else, you looked at him again. You no longer felt him inside of you. Reaching for his arm you looked at him alarm.

“What about you?” The stars twinkled behind him, moving slowly across the night sky.

He smiled. “What did you see?”

The way he looked at you made you think he could see the stars reflected in your eyes, content to view the night sky and still be able to look at you.

“So many stars.” Your eyes searched his as you spoke. “Everywhere. Stars.”

He smiled at you as you looked at what he could not see.

“You never told me your poison.”

He smirked coyly before speaking. “I didn’t take anything. I did this for you, and I wanted to remember.”

No one ever came to these parties sober. They all came here to forget, so what was he doing?

“What?”

“I’ve been coming to these parties for months. How you haven’t noticed me I don’t know.”

You wanted to know why you hadn’t seen him either.

“But why?”

“I’ve seen your misery. Those moments before the drugs hit, I see you. Then you move to music like it comes from inside of you. But when the parties were over you didn’t look nearly as satisfied with the night as the others did.”

He was right. The weight and misery of the world always weighed heavy somewhere. The increase in drugs never helped fully, but it did help you cope.

“I wanted you to feel something for once.”

Your heart thudded hard in your chest. You realized that the anxiety usually thrashing in the corner of your mind had been told to stay quiet. Suddenly, everything didn’t feel so bad. The stars still steadily floated by.

“Thank you for letting me see the universe.”

“Thank you for letting me see that these parties aren’t the only thing that can make me feel.”

Leaving as the sun came up, he stepped out of the building at your side. The bright yellow of morning was peaking over the mountains and you looked up at Hoseok beside you. He seemed at peace as he gazed over the sleeping valley below. No, the future was not fine as they had promised but there were still people in the world that made it feel that way.

[myukulelegentlyweeps]

Nowhere Man

Pairing : George Harrison x female reader

Plot : Geo is sick of the Let It Be sessions so he takes the day off and meets you and has a flippin epiphany :)

Author’s note : Okay so I got sort of carried away, I admit it. But today June 13th is apparently George Harrison appreciation day here on tumblr, so if there is a day to post a 2000 word george fic, it’s today.

Warnings : (very little) cussing, I guess? Also if you don’t believe in the universe and all that metaphysical stuff and it bothers you to read about it, I don’t recommend you read this.

The Beatles were not working anymore. They weren’t functioning, everyone could see it, Let It Be would be one of the band’s last gasps for air. It was a shame, but it was the truth and George wished they, well, particularly Paul, would stop trying to force an album where there was only friction and anger. And a film? Really? No, it wasn’t right.

Harrison had come into the studio early that morning. Comfortably seated in one of the lounge’s sofas, he was trying to unwind before his bandmates arrived, for in the previous few days he had noticed he tensed up the instant he walked through the door of his workplace, automatically, unwillingly. He didn’t like the version of himself he was becoming, grumpy, always snapping at people - so he was trying to change it.

He took a deep breath in and closed his eyes, trying to find the peace within him. He focused on his neck and shoulders, letting them relax like they did when he roamed his garden. In his garden there were no bossy McCartneys, no big-headed Lennons, no Ringos trying to diffuse the tension in vain ; there were only flowers, trees, prosperity and growth. I’m not growing as a musician here anymore, he thought as he opened his eyes again to two voices breaking the silence.

“Wha’re we doin’ today Paul?”

“Dunno. Think John wants to show me a couple of new songs.”

Of course he did. And he probably wants Yoko to sing on the record too, how about that. When they don’t give one damned song to Ringo. George rose from his seat to face Paul, who was already starting his obsessive tuning of every single instrument :

“Say Paul, if John only wants to show you the songs, ye won’t need me, will you?”, he spoke calmly but firmly. The bassist looked up from the guitar he had seized with slight anguish painted on his features. “Of course we need you, Geo-”, he began, but he appeared to give it thought and the end of his sentence took a different tone : “but if you really need the day off, yeah, I...I guess you can go.” A nod was the only answer he received, short and straightforward. Exit George.

As soon as he was outside, he felt better. The morning air was soothingly fresh, and the blue sky still had a few yellowish tinges reminiscing from sunrise. He looked to his car and thought about driving home, but ultimately decided against it : he wanted to walk around, to wander in the city, he had not done so in such a long time... Luckily he had a hat with him that day, which would allow him to partially cover his face and avoid getting recognised by “overly enthusiastic” fans. Normally he would not mind signing autographs, but in that particular instance he was not in the mood.

His stroll started at a fast and steady pace, his first priority being to leave Abbey Road studios far behind ; he later allowed himself to slow down, thinking his irritation finally gone as he reached a different looking area of London. He did not wish to know where he was exactly, in fact, he made it his goal to get lost on purpose as he savoured each step he took, trying his best to not control the decisions his intuition and feet made for him at every turn. Left or right, right or left, or continuing straight, none of it mattered. He was going nowhere and it felt brilliant.

It was as though he was being guided by a light beyond him. The energy flowed effortlessly through the streets, unlike in the studio where it always seemed to be clogged. Here I am, thinking of the studio again. He sighed and brought his focus back to his walk with no destination. Slowly but surely, a small smile made its way to his lips as he noticed a child’s toy forgotten on a bench, a chalk drawing on the sidewalk, a cloud with a specific shape. Small pieces of a grand puzzle coming together. Eventually he stumbled upon Hyde Park. A garden or a forest? He didn’t know, then again the question was unimportant and required no definitive answer.

“He’s a real nowhere man, sitting in his nowhere land, making all his nowhere plans for nobody…” Bloody hell, the Beatles follow ye everywhere, don’t they. George thought he would become angry again, but before he could, he realised how fitting the song was to the situation. Wasn’t he the nowhere man, walking wherever his legs led him? He let out a soft chuckle and tried to find where the music was coming from. There was a young woman strumming an acoustic guitar, her case in front of her collecting a miserable amount of coins. There you are.

She was wearing a red flowery dress and he thought she, not unlike her voice, was quite beautiful, with her smiling (Y/E/C) eyes and (Y/H/C) hair moving slightly with the wind. Through the vocals he could hear she truly experienced the song, and sang from the depths of her guts. He quite enjoyed how it sounded. “Nowhere man don't worry, take your time, don't hurry, leave it all 'til somebody else lends you a hand…” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and extracted a twenty pound note which he placed in the guitar case, the woman’s eyes visibly widening at the generous contribution. He asked himself wether or not he should leave, but decided to stay a little longer, at least until the end of the song. She was...magnetic. He felt drawn to her, as though the universe had nudged him in her direction for a reason.

Your P.O.V

“Thank you very much”, you said after the last strum, glancing at the small group of people who had stopped to listen. You were rather proud of your performance, too, and you had made more money than expected that morning - especially since there was a twenty pound note in your earnings, which was a first. Very few people are willing to give that amount of money to a street musician ; and the mystery man who had was still standing there, merely three steps away, looking at you and probably thinking he was well hidden behind his Panama hat and dark wavy hair. From what you could make out of his features you deduced he was about your age, maybe a bit older, though that impression could have just been due to the moustache which he wore, you had to admit it, quite well.

When you realised he was none other than George Harrison, you wondered why it had taken you so long to figure it out. His face had been on every newspaper since 1964, and you were not going to pretend you did not love the Beatles to the point of obsessively playing their records and eventually wearing them out. Nevertheless, he did not look like he wanted to be recognised, and you decided to respect that. The best way to fight the urge to go talk to my favourite Beatle, you concluded, is to continue playing. And so you did. You started strumming the first chords to I Need You, in an intended wink to his person.  

I Need You ended, you moved on to another song, and another...Until your watch marked eleven a.m. and you started packing up, thinking about the rest of your day and unsure what to do with it. It was a Monday, which meant you didn’t have to go into work (the restaurant was closed on Mondays), but you didn’t want to go home just yet. 

“Can I buy you a drink, miss?”, a very familiar voice asked, catching you off guard. You let out a giggle and took the twenty pound note to show it to him, “I think you’ve already bought me at least fifteen, sir.” “Can I buy you a sixteenth drink then?”, he insisted with a grin. You laughed again ; how could you possibly say no? He was rich after all, you couldn’t feel guilty for making him spend fifty cents on a cup of tea. The next thing you knew, the both of you were sitting at the table of a coffee shop, sipping a warm drink and chatting casually.

He told you his name was Arthur and, though you knew it to be a lie, you preferred to let him think you believed him. He wanted to know everything about you, which was ironic to you considering how you knew his life to be much more exciting and interesting than yours. You answered his every question with lightheartedness, intrigued by his curiosity toward you, and it slowly became obvious that you two shared some sort of special connection you could not rationally explain : you were comfortable with each other suprisingly fast, your sense of humor matched his, and every time your eyes met they would linger, as though you were poking into each other’s souls, making shivers run down your spine.

After the coffee shop, you strolled around Hyde Park side by side for two hours, completely losing track of time in the process. You told him about your family, your studies, even some childhood memories, and he talked about the Beatles, using code names, of course. John’s made up name was Eric, Paul was Fred, Ringo was Michael and of course, he was George, hum, Arthur. You were amazed at how straight he kept his story, though sometimes he would stumble on his bandmate’s brand new names ; by that point you figured he knew you knew he was George Harrison, but he preferred sticking with the parallel universe he had created. He told you about all the stress he had been undergoing during the Let It Be sessions, and you listened closely, overtaken by the feeling of deep empathy. He striked you as a very gentle person, but when he talked about the album you noticed his eyebrows furrow and his tone harden.

Around what you think was midday, you started getting hungry. You sat in the grass and ate store bought sandwiches together, the both of you agreeing they were not the best you had ever tasted. After that, you simply lay in silence, enjoying each other’s company.

“I don’t think they realise how talented and important you are.”

“Who?”

“Joh- I mean, Eric and Fred. They were there first, became the leaders and now they’re blind to the possibility of deflating their massive ego to make room for Ring- Michael and you.”

“...Yer probably right. But there’s not much I can do about it, is there?”

You shook your head.

“Start a project of your own. Didn’t you say Eric recorded something with his girlfriend?”

“Yeah. It’s not bad, what he does, it’s just...He didn’t ask us for permission or anythin’. He just, well, did it.”

“Then do the same! I’m sure you’ve got enough songs of your own to record at the very least a neat EP.”

“Maybe.”, he said as he stood up, seemingly reflecting upon your advice while he tried to straighten the fabric of his wrinkled shirt, to no avail. “(Y/N)...if it were up to me I would stay here and talk to you until we ran out of things to say, but I think I might have to get going now.” You laughed through an undeniable disappointment you attempted to hide : “Oh, of course, please do”. The perspective of having to part ways with him was anything but pleasant. He gathered his belongings, the Panama, his sunglasses ; next, he held his arms out, inviting you into a hug. You happily obliged. You engaged into a long and warm embrace, followed by  prolonged eye contact, and for the hundredth time that day, you experienced the magical tingling sensation through your entire body.

“Thank you for today, (Y/N). I am so grateful to have met you, you really are something special. I...I would like to see you again, if-” He stopped mid-sentence as you handed him a piece of paper with your telephone number hastily scribbled on it. He gave you the most immense smile and proceeded to slowly walk away, looking back a couple of times to make sure you were indeed real.

I met an angel today.

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Forty-Two: Mel and Calix

Liara’s voice seemed to echo through the Great Hall long after Professor Vincent had whisked her away. Mel sat stunned, her composure shaken from having witnessed Liara lose her cool quite possibly for the first time in history.

She was among the throngs of students filling the halls afterward. Everyone seemed too shaken to speak to each other, despite the angry outbursts only moments before. Mel couldn’t really say whose “side” she was on. It made sense for Liara to be striving for a sense of normalcy after such tragic events, but she also hadn’t lost anyone this week. Maybe she would have felt differently if she had.

The only thing she was certain of was that any division that existed felt foolish. Whatever darkness was brewing within the depths of the island, Liara only wanted to help. Mel was sure of it.

Although, that was the only thing she really was sure of. She still hadn’t been able to get any answers from Professor Owa. Any chance she’d gotten to track her down, she’d been “too busy” to chat. Maybe now that classes were resuming, she would have an easier chance of getting her alone.

She’d almost made it to the staircase when she felt a hand grip the sleeve of her robe. She turned to face Dr. Evans, blinking in confusion.

“You’re going to get me expelled,” she chastised jokingly. “What’s up?”

“I noticed you didn’t show up for your evaluation this morning,” she explained, her tone disapproving. “I thought my note made it clear that it was mandatory, Miss Winter.”

Mel’s jaw clenched. She did remember the note that had been waiting for her on her door the night before. But the thought of a mental evaluation after everything that had happened, while logical, made her blood boil just a tad.

“It must have slipped my mind,” she said finally. “Look, is this really necessary? Why am I the only on trial when there’s someone out there who’s actually behind those murders.”

“You’re not on trial. And they weren’t murders, Miss Winter.”

“Right. Suicides?”

Dr. Evans gave her a pleading look. “Look, no one is entirely sure of the cause of this tragic incident. All we can do at the moment is try our utmost to ensure it does not happen again, and that means ruling out all possibilities. If it truly was the cause of some dark magic or possession, then we must rule out all traces of it in the student body. Am I understood?”

Mel deflated like a balloon, feeling rightfully admonished. She didn’t offer another word, letting Dr. Evans escort her down the hall to the infirmary. Mostly everyone who had been admitted in the past week had been released, save for the four survivors. Mel was thankful for the peace.

Evans brought her to a desk in the far corner. Mel vaguely recognized the boy sitting behind it as the doctor’s assistant, an Ibinia student a year younger than she was. Calix Galen, if she recalled correctly.

Had Liara truly lost her temper? Had she? She never shouted like that… ever.

Calix’s mind ticked over, the well-oiled gears spinning like clockwork as he tried to rationalise the morning. He scribbled a plethora of messy notes on a sheet of paper, random jottings in slapdash penmanship, far removed from his otherwise neat script; the fragments of sentences, nonsensical and meaningless, covered the page from top to bottom. He found himself mostly writing Liara’s name, over and over, despite having started the scratches and scrawls to distract himself.

No matter how he tried, however, the memory always seem to find its way back into his head between every student that he saw. He couldn’t burn it out until he figured out a logical solution- the shaft of the arrow was buried too deep in his flesh to pull, and removing it could do more harm than good.

Nobody had ever seen the headmistress as emotionally unstable as that morning - even Doctor Evans had been quite shocked at Liara’s uncharacteristic loss of composure and self-control. Calix knew her to be sangfroid in all situations, as patient as the wise owl whilst as fierce as the brave eagle.

We’re all in deep shit if Liara is on the verge of a breakdown. She might very well be the one in need of an evaluation, not the student body.

Nevertheless, Calix had returned to the infirmary immediately after the meeting in the great hall. He returned to his desk, casting his eyes across the shimmering bubbles that still surrounded the four fallen students. They were still sleeping - or so he and Doctor Evans hoped. There was no way to tell what was going on unless they had a definitive causative agent.

He sighed heavily, lifting his head from his doodles as he heard Doctor Evans’ voice and the sound of footfall echo through the infirmary. He smiled softly when he saw a young woman making her way to him in the far corner.

She was another poor soul captured by Doctor Evans for her school-wide evaluations; another soul who simply didn’t want to be in the infirmary.

“Hi,” he said, standing up to pull out a chair for her, “My name is Calix. Please, sit down and relax. We just need to have a little chat.”

“Mel,” she replied, plopping down into the chair. She did her best to give him a smile. “Well? What would you like to know?”

Calix quickly took his seat, reaching across the desk for a fresh sheet of paper and the owl-feather quill from the golden ink pot.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mel. How are you feeling?” Calix asked, “I know, it’s a stupid question. But, I’ve got to ask. I just need to make sure you’re okay.”

Mel shrugged, tapping her fingers against her knees. “I mean, as well as can be expected at a time like this. I’m...trying to stay busy. I didn’t know any of the um, victims too well, so…” She trailed off, unsure of what else to say. Calix was pretty close to her age, but he was still technically a doctor. Doctors had always made her a little uncomfortable.

There was a discernable nervousness that hung in the air. Calix kept smiling, nodding his head slowly as Mel spoke. Her voice started to waver, small stuttering taking hold.

Calix was glad he decided to do the evaluations in the far corner when Mel mentioned the students who lay soporose behind her back, hidden by Calix’s protection spells. The infirmary always induced a white coat syndrome in people.

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean,” Calix said softly, a friendly lilting tone to his voice, “Everyone is in the same boat, trying to keep themselves afloat. Which is why we’re all here, yeah. Everyone, all the students and all the professors are feeling the same set of emotions, and it’s important we make sure that nobody is having difficulty treading water.”

He wrote Mel’s name on the top of the sheet before making a few key notes. The ink was charmed to disappear, a little trick to prevent others from reading what was written, but also to preserve a degree of calmness in others.

“Tell me, have you been feeling ill or sick at all, lately?”

She shook her head, eyes fixated on the charmed page in front of her. “A little nauseous the first day, but...I don’t think that’s abnormal.”

“Not at all, I was feeling like that myself,” Calix comforted, watching her eyes fix on the invisible writings, “But, what I’m asking is whether you’ve felt anything strange? Something out of the ordinary? Perhaps even thoughts that a week ago you wouldn’t have ever imagined having?”

“Thoughts…” Mel chewed on her lip, falling silent. She knew what he’d meant by the question, but now memories were popping up in her head - particularly the night of the party in Old Aroon, sitting by the beach. That draw she felt towards the woods, the hidden figure...that couldn’t have had anything to do with this, could it? Any correlation she could make would probably just stem from paranoia. From her desperate attempt to draw connections, make sense of all this.

Still…

“Calix...do you think there’s anything living in the Gladur? Anything really out of the ordinary, I mean.”

Calix fixed his eyes on Mel’s as her voice fell into oblivion, a sullen silence taking hold. The sound of their breathing filled the space between them and Calix could sense a sea-change in Mel’s sentiments. The nervousness was still present, but he began to feel a new emotion bubbling beneath the surface. He surveyed her features, waiting for an answer. It was evident that she was trying to withhold something, a memory from not so long ago that resonated with his questioning.

What had she been thinking? What thoughts had invaded her mind?

When she spoke again, Calix tilted his head to the side, wondered why the Gladur had come to the foreground of his psyche when he asked about unusual thoughts: “The Gladur?”

He took a deep breath and let the air go slowly: “I would think that there’s things in that forest that we barely understand. But, why… why are you thinking of the Gladur?”

Perhaps the stories of the blackening of the leaves has her spooked?

“I know it feels strange, and maybe it’s nothing but…” She kept her eyes fixed on his quill for the longest time, until finally she met his gaze. He was giving her a searching look, but it was also inviting. She wanted to confide in him. Pick his own brain for understanding.

“During the party at Old Aroon, I was alone, and near the trees and I...felt something. Like someone was watching me. And despite my better judgment something made me actually want to go seek it out. I’d almost forgotten about it, but after all this I just feel…” She clenched and unclenched her fingers. She struggled to find words, like she was digging them out of the mud. “It feels connected. All of it. Does that sound insane?”

Calix listened with serious intent, putting down his quill as Mel met his inquisitive look. She seemed like she was about to pour her heart out, release the mental shackles holding her inner thoughts back, and Calix knew a physician taking evaluative notes was the last thing she needed at that moment. There was something about her, something about the way she spoke, something about the look in her eyes that pleaded her innocence, that made him believe the story that she told.

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a faint but audible whisper: “Okay, take a deep breath for me. As I said, I’m to help, okay? I don’t think you sound insane, Mel, not in a million years. But, let’s try and get to the bottom of this together. Did you feel the same presence at the Quidditch match, or did you feel anything there at all? Have you told anyone else about it?”

“It feels...similar,” she said. “I get this same feeling of dread.” She paused before answering his last question, wondering how best to answer it. She hadn’t really told anyone about it, save for Ella. She’d briefly brought it up to Owa, but hadn’t gone into much detail. And as for Enzo…

“I didn’t tell him about this incident in particular, but I did have a conversation with Enzo Bellerose,” she replied. “Just about the Gladur in general. He’s...heard some things. Just whispers, y’know. But he seems to be on the same page as me. There’s something seriously...amiss.

She thought back to the image of that single black leaf, and her heart clenched with dread.

“It’s just a feeling I have. I just know it.”

Calix reached across the desk as she spoke, taking Mel’s clenched hands in his. He wrapped his hands around hers and squeezed tight, little puffs of pink mist starting to appear as his magic poured into her. He had sensed her heart start to flutter, an arrhythmia beginning to form as the memories came rushing back and he cast gentle spells to settle her perturbed composition.

The mention of Enzo Bellerose made Calix take a sharp intake of breath, one he masked quickly. The Aquilen had left the infirmary not that long ago - Calix had been the one to sign his discharge papers having been his attending mediwizard. He wasn’t going to lie, he was happy to see the boy go. He didn’t have the nicest of demeanours nor the friendliest of ways with people. But, Calix wasn’t surprised to hear he was involved in some way. Perhaps Enzo had heard Calix speak of the Gladur while in the infirmary and had relayed it to Mel.

“I agree with you, Mel. There’s some connection between the Gladur and what’s going on, whether it’s a big connection or a small one,” Calix said, the reassurance hopefully adding to his spells, “But, for now, I think I would be best to not say much until we know what’s going on, yeah? You saw Liara this morning. Things are seriously amiss. But, we’ll sort them, okay?”

The magic leaving Calix’s hands seeped through Mel’s bloodstream and with it came a rush of calm, like warm sunlight. Her fears were still there, but they became muted, like hearing music from underwater. They were so far away from her now. Calix was right. Getting worked up wasn’t going to solve anything, and the last thing she wanted to do was cause any sort of trouble. There had been enough of that to last a lifetime over the last week.

Either way, Calix’s words reassured her. She smiled at him, a genuine grin, and squeezed his hands back before standing. “You’re right. Thank you so much, Calix. I feel a lot better after speaking with you.”

Their hands steadily parted as Mel stood from the chair. She was smiling, a genuine, wholehearted smile that was reciprocated by Calix without a moment’s hesitation as he watched the fears drift to the background of her mind. They wouldn’t leave - the feeling of dread would possibly return - but Calix would simply have to keep an eye on her.

“Hey, what did I tell you,” he shrugged, picking up his quill and signing his elegant signature on a slip of silver paper, confirming that Mel had completed her evaluation. He handed her the silvery document. “All I’m here to do is talk and make sure everyone is okay, yeah. And if you ever need someone to talk to, just give me a shout, Mel. We need to stick together now more than ever.”

As he spoke, he started to write on the sheet once more. The invisibility charm hid his recommendation to see Mel again soon, to make sure that in the coming days and weeks that sensation didn’t manifest as something more sinister or insidious.

Enzo and Mel have something to do with this… more than I dare to contemplate. I’ll need to keep an eye on both of them… before they get themselves hurt.

“It was lovely meeting you, Mel.”

She clutched the paper in her hands, feeling a further wave of relief wash over her. It had felt good speaking with Calix, but more than anything she was glad to be done of this ordeal so she could return to her room and prepare for classes the next day. A sense of normalcy and routine might be just what she needed to clear her head.

“You as well, Calix.” She dipped her knees in a half-curtsy of farewell, and then strode from the room, feeling significantly lighter than when she had entered it.

[birdseyetea]

June Newsletter

Summer Solstice is upon us! 

Praise be the long days with a head like an emerald, wings to soar, heart of a song, legs like vines, and hands of soft veiny leaves. 

Summer solstice is our most beloved seasonal transition as humans. From the rush of spring building and planting toward a deep long slow breath as we sit and envelop ourselves in the company of good food, peaceful scenery, and great conversation. We relax, we enjoy, we simply be, and in that being-ness, we are entranced by the warm loving whispers of good things on the wind. 

Summer on the farm means maintaining. Some days it’s shape is a slow meander through the fields in deep conversation with both plants and animals that jump up and appear in my awareness. I need to spend a lot of time just watching and learning from the master herself. Sensing when it is time to step in and make changes and when to let the ecology of the place find its own balance. Other days I move at a slugs pace, deep in connection with a single place or project (often in a tough match against thickets of grass encroaching on mixed rows of herbs). My closest friends these days are the herbs, weeds, trees, and seasonal birds that chat with me all morning and late into the evening. Their voices have deeply penetrated my awareness this year. In the process of both cultivating and rewilding my land I have been given many gifts, some come with burdensome requests and some seem to swaddle me in such goodness and pleasure I cannot help but pay it forward. 

Summer is important to our human-animal lives. This is the season where we can be most assured we will not starve or freeze or struggle to meet our most basic needs. The earth provides and we can help it along as best we know how. We more easily shed our sense of scarcity in summer and let our radiant generosity emerge. To taste nature’s fecundity each day: turn off the news, leave your house, and reenter the presence of living growing creation all around you. Just WANDER. Let your senses carry your forth. Stretch your hearing, widen your gaze, feel what the earth wants for you, what is waiting for you when you shed layers of fear, anxiety, self consciousness. Savor the moments of clarity and generously share what you have been given.

Nature has a sense of humor, a playfulness, that helps us laugh at our shortcomings, provides surprising realizations, and puts a smirking face to the depths of our ignorance. 

That day you got stung three times by bees or fell headfirst into a swamp hidden by bramble as you scrambled through an unfamiliar landscape... We are often overtaken by some draw, some curiosity, some desire from nature, so we race into the unknown in a comedic dance with the stuff that sustains our limbs and lungs. The physical comedy that ensues the minute we step outside our manicured protected spaces should be the making of a great meandering story, full of slowly unfolding truths that we learn one adventure and unfamiliar turn at a time throughout the days of our lives. Humor is the antidote to all the pressures we pile on our shoulders, it allows us to laugh at ourselves, to laugh together at the absurdities we fall into each day. I do not have a single day where I am not face to face with my limitations, but the more I widen my lens and lean into the conversation with the parts unknown, the more I am caressed by the sweet nectar of learning that tends toward deeper connection and humor.

---  

Sip your tea over ice on the hot days and take it hot if you are up before dawn. I have been listening to birds just as the first signs of light penetrate my eye lids. The sweet calls of thrushes and robins feel so distant as I slowly meander my way toward being awake each morning. Their familiar calls draw me up, erasing the memories of dreams and solitude. “I am here” I find myself saying as I say hello to the world. “I am right where I am supposed to be” as I affirm my commitment to the day. Cups of hot tea and fresh air are enough to get me dressed and enthused to find purpose and strength through these joy filled longest days of the year. 

This is a great time to be alive to learn what freedom is for you and to cultivate deep connections to the work you do in the world. Happy Solstice later this month, I hope you find beautiful ways to celebrate the gateway to summer!

 Unburden Tea

Jade Cloud Tea, Tulsi, Clover, Mint, Lemonbalm

Unburden tea is designed to energize you during these long days, but aside from the stimulating caffeinated tea, the other herbs are soothing and nourishing to the adrenals. Caffeine is a great fast way to wake up, but it is important to feed the adrenals that are often depleted by caffeine intake and stress. Tulsi helps balance the mind and body, helping the body manage stress and supporting immunity. Lemonbalm is a fabulous herb for calming nervousness. Lemonbalm also is anti-viral, a superb ally for people with herpes simplex viruses. Clover is just a darn good nutritive herb. Red clovers support heart and bone health. Red clover is also commonly used to treat respiratory infections. Mint is calming and nutritive. Mints taste refreshing and help cool the body on a hot day.  

Unburden tea helps get you going and, I hope, inspires you to unburden yourself from the narratives that keep you confined and feeling small. We tell ourselves all kinds of stories that bind us to much too narrow identities. We are all so creative and curious, let yourself freely create this summer, without the fears and insecurities that keep us detached from our creativity or stepping into the unknown. 

Gingerade

Ginger, oat tops, fennel, honeybush, lemongrass, rosehips, elderberries, rosemary, and schisandra

Gingerade is a great tea to cold brew! It is tangy, sweet, and a little spicy. I really love making iced tea blends because it is so rare to find ice tea blends made with the real unprocessed herbs and fruits. I often choose fruits/berries that have complex flavor and are typically more medicinal than common fruits. In this blend I used elderberries, rosehips, and schisandra. Elderberries are antiviral and rich in anti-oxidants

This blend is created as an enjoyable rejuvenating iced tea. It helps restore vitamins and minerals as it hydrates. Gingerade is also a great tea to drink with a meal as a digestive aid. Ginger is such a great tonic herb! Ginger supports digestion and immunity, improves circulation and absorption of nutrients, and relieves nausea.   

Oat tops feed the nervous system. In studies they have shown to be a mild nerve tonic, nutritive, anti-depressant, and soothing demulcent. Fennel seed is an excellent digestive tonic herb. Fennel relieve digestive upset and is anti-inflammatory. Fennel adds a nice aromatic sweetness to the blend. Rosemary has a toning and calming effect on the stomach. Rosemary is a folk ally for memory, it is commonly know throughout folk traditions as, “The herb of remembrance.” Like fennel and oat tops, Rosemary is a great herb to treat weakness following stress or illness. 

Elderberries are antiviral and, along with rosehips and schisandra berries, they create a melange of fruity and tangy flavors. Rosehips are rich in anti-oxidants and anti-inflammatory. They are also higher in vitamin C than almost any other fruit! Schisandra berries come from Chinese magnolia vines. They are commonly used in Tradtional Chinese Medicine and in the herbal medicine of Japan and Korea. They are called wu wei zi in Chinese which means, “five flavors fruit.” The whole fruit (including the seeds) has salty, sweet, sour, bitter, and pungent components. Because of all five tastes in one fruit, it is considered a tonic to the five yin organs: liver, kidneys, heart, lungs, and spleen. Schisandra is also a great adaptogen herb, helping the body adapt to stress: 

“It is a mild central nervous system stimulant that enhances reflexes, work performance, and mental activity. At the same time, it is calming and helps relieve anxiety and stress induced asthma or palpitations. Schisandra can help prevent immune system depletion caused by stress.” From the book: Adaptogens: Herbs for Strength, Stamina, and Stress Relief by David Winston and Steven Maimes 

Honeybush is an herb from South Africa. It’s rich sweet flavor is a great base for this blend. Lemongrass adds a refreshing lemon flavor that brightens the mood and supports digestion.

Snooze

kava, passionflower, mint, hops, valerian, linden, and nutmeg

Snooze is probably too strong for pregnant women and small children.

I get lots of requests for sleep teas during late spring and summer. Long days, heat, and strong feelings that the world is truly abuzz makes falling asleep very difficult. Whether we like it or not we are all affected by seasonal changes and the patterns of light and dark strongly affect our sleeping. The long bright days and warm weather are begging us to get outside and move around, it is no wonder we struggle to let go of our attentiveness until late into the night.

I more often send teas like my Dream tea to you guys, but every once in a while I want to give you the opportunity to try a different kind of slumber tea I make. This is a valerian based relaxing tea. Valerian usually puts people to sleep. About 5% of people that are not affected by valerian though. Valerian has the reputation of being characterized as smelling like dirty socks. It does have a very distinct taste and aroma, but I long ago dropped the impression that it tastes bad. When balanced with mellow nervine herbs like linden, hops, and mint the valerian starts to have a subtle floral characteristic to it. Hops and passionflower are both strong bitter herbs which also overshadow a distinctly strong valerian taste. Nutmeg, surprisingly, can be very sedating. If you have serious insomnia try taking a capsule or two filled with nutmeg powder an hour before you go to bed and you will probably sleep like a baby.

I sometimes add a teaspoon of honey to this tea. During the summer I keep a jug of iced snooze in the fridge and drink a large diluted glass of it an hour or two before I head to bed. I really struggle to find the right combination of herbs that help me sleep. I am a worrier and easily fall into bad sleeping patterns. If you can relate to this, then you probably need to take a more direct approach to your sleeping regiment. When I notice I am in a restless sleeping pattern I have to experiment for a few nights with different evening protocols such as eating dinner earlier, forcing myself to relax and read a novel instead of working or watching a movie, or cutting out caffeine completely until I am able to reset my sleep rhythm. There is absolutely no shame in making lifestyle changes that actively encourage better sleeping patterns. When you sleep better you respond to the world with so much more curiosity and compassion.