#its always there to revisit ofc

[musclegoth]

dark souls 4 would cure me

[bloodhailmp3]

i love how like literally everyone in 2010 - 2014 had this annoying way of speaking online like even if u were quote unquote cool u would still type in this v sincere forced quirky way that means if ur reading a post from 2012 in the present day u can usually guess what year the post was made before u check the timestamp. and now the common like online uhhh tone?? style of communication?? (sorry idk what to call it idk much abt linguistics) has shifted to being a little more detached and ironic and if someone still types in that early '10s style it comes across as what would now be considered cringe or maybe to put it more nicely just a touch too earnest and emotionally involved and like wannabe quirky

[hb-writes]

Another Time, Another Place

Summary: Harvey's wife (Reader) gets stuck while working on a case and she requires his assistance to get unstuck.

Prompt: “What? Isn’t this the book you wanted?”

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader/OFC (3rd person, she/ her)

Content Warning: Nothing much, really. Implied spice, but no explicit spice.

She pulled her gaze from her laptop, rubbing at her eyes as she glanced around the room after sending an email. Most of the partners—both the senior and junior designees—stayed far away from the law firm’s library. They had little need for the space, what with being granted their own resplendent offices, complete with the comforts of their own design—furniture and decor and views that reflected their status and clout at the firm…

So it was rare to find department heads there, excepting for the odd instances when they deigned to stretch their legs, drifting down to the library to follow up with an associate or paralegal assigned to their case in person rather than sending an email, but she had always liked the library. She often preferred its special brand of quiet, the near-silence imbued with the tense buzz of people working on their own time-sensitive assignments, almost like the parallel play of toddlers. Almost like they were all still students studying for exams and writing papers. 

The room was empty now though, the hour too late for even the most diligent of associates, the most hungry of them, but it had always reminded her of her days back in school…her days as a novice associate. Even now, she sometimes preferred the space to her own office the same way she’d once preferred the space to her little cubicle in the bullpen. Back when she was an associate, there had been no hour too late, no hour that she wouldn’t spend in the library with a pile of books and her mind wound tightly throughout the intricacies of a case, trying to craft a win for herself. For her mentor. For her clients. 

It wasn’t often these days that she needed to keep such late hours. And somewhere along the line, she’d become the one mentoring novice attorneys. She’d sent her own associate home hours ago, preferring to work through this particularly rough bit of research on her own. Once in a while, she liked that sort of challenge. Liked revisiting the grueling all nighters she’d once lived on a daily basis. 

And she could feel she was close now, the puzzle pieces in her mind’s eye nearly falling into place. Nearly…but there was something she was missing. Something blocked that she couldn’t quite work through. In a library containing thousands of volumes and a whole internet of answers, she just couldn’t find what she needed. 

Or, more likely, she couldn’t access it, her mind not making the right connections. 

She probably just needed to get some sleep, to look at things with a fresh mind, but that wasn’t in the cards tonight, not with an impending deadline. 

A short break would have to do. She just needed an influx of energy, a slight bit of distraction to pull her mind away from the issue just enough to give perspective. 

Pushing back from her laptop, she turned the volume on her wireless headphones up, letting the club hits she used to dance to during undergrad house parties soothe some part of her soul, almost as if the familiar beats unlocked something in her, loosening muscles she hadn’t even realized were tense. Not that it was a surprise. She’d been hunched over the table for hours, not even bothering to stop for dinner, taking only a few obligatory bites of the sushi Harvey had ordered for her while her eyes remained glued to her computer. 

She let her focus slip away now though, slipping off her heels and closing her eyes as she sang along to the song in her headphones. She imagined she was in another time, another place—far away from the library and the case, the music easily carrying her away. 

She started, eyes flying open as she danced into something solid, the scent of a familiar cologne tickling her senses as she stumbled. Harvey’s hand closed around her back, steadying her as she pulled her headphones off, letting them hang around her neck. 

Harvey smirked at the noise still blaring through the silent library from the headphones, a song he knew just as well as she did, the sound of it dredging up at least half a dozen memories—images of his own college days, images of the two of them on road trips, images of her cleaning the apartment, images of their wedding, images of a handful of other times he’d come across her in the firm’s library late at night…

“Hey fruitcake, what are you doing?” 

She rolled her eyes at the reference as she turned down the volume, allowing the memories and the music to fall away, her mind temporarily focused on finding the right retort, her mind gratefully sifting through Dirty Harry quotes rather than case law research.

Harvey watched her, letting the quiet stretch between them, some part of him gratified at the sight of her slightly disheveled appearance. Harvey liked something about the juxtaposition, of seeing her just slightly less put together than she usually was in the hallowed halls of their law firm, her blazer discarded on a chair, her shirt sleeves rolled, her feet bare, bright red toenails stark against the dark carpets. 

Not that he wasn’t used to seeing her like that. She was the type of girl who was almost always in sweats just minutes after arriving home. She’d actually been dressed that way when they first met, years and years ago in a different law library, in a different set of hallowed halls. 

Sometimes, especially times like this, it felt like it was just yesterday.

Harvey pulled his eyes back to her face to find her studying him, a certain eagerness lighting her eyes. His lips formed a fond smile again. 

“I thought you were hard at work down here?” he taunted, eyebrows raising.

“Well…” she started, leaning a bit of weight onto the arm that still lay snaked around her back, “for the past three-quarters of an hour, I’ve been sitting on my ass waiting for you.” 

Harvey smirked. It was one of the things he loved about her: that she could go toe to toe with him with most things—movie references, the law, a few choice other things…

Nevermind the fact that she’d emailed him requesting his ‘assistance’ mere minutes ago…

Harvey gently massaged her lower back with the fingers he still had splayed there before shifting his arm away, abstaining from letting his hand drift down to the aforementioned ass, another thing he loved about her.

Her lips pursed at the sudden absence of Harvey’s touch and she pulled her arms up to fold over her chest.

“I brought that help you wanted.” 

She refrained from smiling as she read the title of the paperback he pushed into the space between them—Law for Dummies—even as he smirked, giddy as a school child. She had gifted the book to him upon his law school graduation, and it had occupied a shelf in his various cubicles and offices ever since. 

She doubted it had ever been much help, but it gave them a good laugh from time to time, something which was like a balm to the harshness of life sometimes, a healing salve for the seemingly chronic stress of their lives.

“Very clever, Harvey.” 

“What?” he asked, gaze drifting from her unimpressed face down to the black and yellow front cover. “Isn’t this the book you wanted?”

Harvey’s voice sounded so innocent—so sincere—that she almost laughed. Christ, he was good. If law hadn’t worked out, he could’ve given acting a shot. Comedy, maybe. 

“Did my email say anything about a book, Mr. Specter?” she asked, taking the tome from his hands and tossing it on a nearby table with a thump.

Harvey hummed. “Come to think of it, your email was a little…vague. Left a lot to the imagination.” 

“Mhmm…” She nodded. “The details of the specific type of assistance I require of you is something I suspect neither one of us would want in writing. Wouldn’t want it read aloud in a court of law…” Her eyes traveled Harvey’s face, clocking the light in his eyes and the tug of his smile. “Or by the IT department,” she added as an afterthought, the briefest bit of alarm washing over her features at the idea. 

“You think Benjamin is reading our email exchanges?” Harvey asked. “That’s kind of—”

She pushed at his chest before he could get the word out—kinky. 

“Harvey,” she groaned, not because she didn’t enjoy the childish side of him. She did. She loved it, actually, but she had asked him down here for a reason…

“Yes, Mrs. Specter?” 

To most of the world, both here at the office and in the eyes of the U.S. government, she went by her maiden name. She had kept her own name, both professionally and legally, for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which being that she was not a man’s property, not even if Harvey Specter was the man in question. But between the two of them, it still thrilled her when he called her that, made her feel so thoroughly his—and him so thoroughly hers—that her toes curled into the carpet, a movement that Harvey clocked as he stepped closer, one arm wrapping around her as he used the other to guide her face up to him with a hand under her chin.

“What specific type of assistance is it that you require of me?”

Whatever she asked for…whatever she needed…Harvey would readily give her the world if she wanted it. If it would make her happy. If she needed it. He’d do anything.

It was a truth they both knew. And it was reciprocal. She’d do the same for him.  

But all she wanted—all she needed—just now was him. 

This.

Well, this…and a way to win her case, but as she kissed her husband’s lips, allowing him to guide them both back towards the stacks, thoughts of the case fell away until all that existed in the world was two people alone in a library, each of them falling a bit further in love, as they had once done long ago in another time, another place.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 4861

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, mental illness, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

10. S'mores

It’s the “sex play” (God, that term is so cringe) thing being on the table that builds the tension in the apartment, all of them knowing about it but none of them talking about it. Mary sure as shit doesn’t have the guts to break that ice, and now Bucky’s always deep in thought and quiet around her. And Steve, well.

Steve is like a big, mopey golden retriever who knows its humans are upset but doesn’t know how to help besides headbutting things affectionately.

Mary’s feelings for him only grow when she realizes that he really hasn’t told Bucky about that night in the kitchen: the things she’d confided about the razor and her nightmares and sneaking out to the gym. Knowing that Steve’s stuck by his word like that makes her like him and trust him a whole heck of a lot more. 

But it doesn’t solve the underlying problem. 

There’s a court hearing in front of a judge next month to revisit the custody arrangement—Next month. And one afternoon while Bucky’s out of the apartment, Steve gently informs Mary that Dr. Linda is recommending the order be extended. Jesus fucking Christ. 

And then the results to that test Linda made her take, the “Submissive Sexual Interests and Tendencies Assessment”, arrive in the mail (addressed to Bucky, because of course they would be), and Mary gets her hands on them after Bucky and Steve read them, and she’s mortified at what it says about her.

Tendencies: Passive aggression (reactive aggression in lieu of submission), emotional outbursts, low self-esteem, impulsive sexual promiscuity, self-harm, alcohol use disorder, possible co-morbidity (OCD, EDNOS, BDD). Dynamic Preferences: single dominant authority figure, structured domestic routine, service, discipline, monogamous relationship, emotional bonding. Recommendations: Following assessment review, patient is most likely to benefit from continued domestic control in a consistent (24/7) environment. Transfer of custody not recommended. Continued therapy sessions and educational courses at CDP highly recommended. Most beneficial therapeutic modalities include limited corporal discipline, sex play, and reward-based service routine.

There’s a ton of infuriating psycho babble bullshit packed into those results that she could get upset about, and she does, but Mary’s eyes track over that one, most-horrible phrase over and over again: 

“Transfer of custody not recommended.”

Fuck.

She loses sleep over it, sneaks out of the apartment in the middle of the night and does cardio at the gym until she’s exhausted enough to head back home and pass out. It pisses her off that this is such a thing now. She doesn’t want to be special needs, she should have the right to choose whether she even wants treatment or not! She resents the hell out of Bucky and Steve for having custody of her the way that they do. They’re clearly expecting her to blow up or something, after the news from Linda and the SSITA results come in. It’s so obvious that they’re walking on eggshells around her, Mary halfway wishes they’d just do something. One way or the other, it’d be better than this.

Linda claims that they’ve expressed “positive feelings” about a sexual dynamic, but if they have, they sure aren’t expressing it to Mary. She suspects that most of that positivity has come from Steve, and probably only because he’s a golden retriever in human form who just wants to do what’s right and good, not because he or Bucky are particularly attracted to her.

While she has managed to clean herself up quite a bit since moving in with them, Mary isn’t delusional: she realizes that Steve and Bucky are very attractive men, whereas she’s just average. She tries to tell herself she’s fine with that. She knows Bucky and Steve could probably get like, a supermodel to sleep with them if they really wanted to. Mary’s not in their league, and that’s okay. 

But if they’re not attracted to her that way then they should at least have the decency to just say so! At least then she could find someone else, get back on Tinder, or even sign up for one of those ProDoms that the CDP has. Darcy said Thor was good, so maybe Mary could request him? The way that Darcy had described the guy, he sounds like he's a hunka hunka burning Nordic god. Mary could go for that.

She brings it up casually over dinner, framing it lightheartedly, and Bucky literally crushes his water glass in his prosthetic hand. “What?” he snaps, frowning down at the mess he’s just made. “No.”

Mary huffs and goes to fetch the desserts while Steve gets the waste bin and begins scraping the broken pieces of glass into it like it’s just another Tuesday. “I don’t see why not,” Mary complains from over at the counter. She’s pulled the plates out from the fridge and grabs the butane torch for the meringue.

“Jesus,” Bucky exclaims when he sees the industrial sized torch she's wielding. “Where’d you get that?”

Mary purses her lips as she focuses on achieving the perfect amount of toastedness. “Hardware store,” she mutters. “So why can’t I go see one of the ProDom’s again?” She purposefully over-torches Bucky’s meringue, because she can tell that this isn’t going to go her way. “Sounds like a win-win. You don’t have to deal with me, I can meet new people, and insurance pays for it. What exactly is the problem?” She’s trying to force him to admit that he doesn’t want to Dom her sexually, trying to get him to see that something’s gotta give and he’ll have to let her use one of the ProDoms eventually if that’s what the severity of her “condition” requires (gigantic ‘Ew’). 

But frustratingly, he refuses to engage with her on the topic. “It’s a no, Mare,” he tells her sternly. “Pros are for people who have more experience. You don’t.”

Mary seriously doubts that. “Linda didn’t say that,” she argues, carrying the plates over to the table and handing the nice one to Steve and the burnt one to Bucky. 

He pulls it closer to himself and raises an eyebrow at it. “Linda’s being diplomatic,” he mutters. “I thought you said you were making s’mores?” 

Yesterday, Bucky had been talking with Steve about how much they both missed their old camping trips they used to take. The two of them must’ve waxed poetic over campfire s’mores for ten whole minutes. So Mary thought this would be an excellent way to butter them up. Apparently not.

She sniffs and picks up her fork. “They are s’mores. It’s a plated dessert, Bucky. An interpretation. It’s not literal.”

He grunts and peers at his portion, poking it dubiously with his fork. “What’s it made of?”

Mary heaves a sigh and snottily recites: “Honey Sablé, 70% Valrhona cremeux, cold-smoked Italian meringue, torched ‘mallow, Graham crumb streusel, and tempered chocolate stick for garnish." Both Bucky and Steve stop poking at their plates and just stare at her for a second. 

“Sounds good,” Steve chirps, and digs into his.

Mary stares Bucky down, until he too, deigns to eat the apparently too fancy for him version of a  s’more. “Oh, damn,” he says after the first bite, looking taken-aback. “I can taste the smoke.”

Mary preens, then asks again about the ProDom. “Well if I’m not getting it there then who the heck’s supposed to fuck me?” she winds up blurting out of frustration.

When that direct reference doesn’t elicit any response from Bucky besides a barrage of bossy instructions for after-dinner cleanup, Mary loses a bit of the hope she’d been holding onto that maybe Linda was right about them being attracted to her. She just gave him the perfect fucking opening, and he didn’t take it. She gets the kitchen cleaned up from dinner, resigning herself to another evening of platonic domination that doesn’t quite hit the spot. 

Nightly drops are nice. Not as nice as they were in the beginning, the effects having waned quite a bit from what they once were, but still better than no drops at all. 

Mary sits on her pillow on the floor, head on the couch cushion next to Bucky’s thigh, listening vaguely to the sound of the television while she enjoys the feeling of his fingers carding through her hair, lightly massaging her scalp. It’s been a while now, and she doesn’t think she’s going to get any deeper. It’s late, already they’ve watched two full episodes of their show, and Mary’s got work tomorrow. It’ll be bedtime soon. 

A big yawn works its way up in her throat, and Bucky chuckles when it finally breaks free. “Tired?” he asks.

“Mmhm.” She inhales deeply and sits up, sleepy and squinting. It takes a moment before her eyes adjust to the darkness of the room and Bucky’s form sitting right in front of her. Wow, she’d been really close to him, hadn’t realized just how close. Had she been … hugging his shin? God, she hopes not. Not like she hasn’t spent whole evenings fantasizing about rubbing her face all over his thighs and his— Nope. Not gonna think about that when he’s sitting right there. She tears her eyes away and forces that train of thought to stop right in its metaphorical tracks. 

“You good, Hon?” Bucky asks, his soft voice drawing her attention back from her own head. She looks up and sees his fond expression, his relaxed posture. Wonders if he’s in Domspace at all. Probably not.

Then her eyes land on the line of his cock at the front of his pants. 

He’s hard. Not very, but some. Underneath his sweats his dick is chubbed up enough that it creates a slight bulge against the fabric. Mary freezes, staring for too long before she’s able to tear her eyes away. When she does, and she looks up, Bucky’s watching her with an inscrutable expression. Her breath catches and her mind goes absolutely dumb.

Does he want ..? Should she ..?

She looks back down at it, at the relaxed splay of his thighs. She wets her lips and thinks about reaching forward and sliding her hand over it, what it would feel like, if it would twitch, if Bucky would shiver or make a sound. She wants to touch it, and seriously considers doing so, but when she looks up at Bucky again, he doesn’t look like he’s excited, or anticipating her touching him. He looks … resigned. 

“Tired?” he asks kindly. "Do you maybe ... Do you need anything else tonight? From me?"

Mary's lips part, heart leaping at what that might mean ... but then Bucky looks over at Steve with visible yearning in his eyes, and the two of them share one of their silent conversations, brows pinched and expectant. 

Oh. Right. Bucky’s just horny and eager to get Steve into bed, wants to wrap this up. Mary wonders if he really can’t tell that she's not far down like she used to get. Maybe he thinks this is all she needs and he really isn’t going to take Linda’s advice seriously. Mary should be happy about that. After all, it’s what she wanted. Isn’t it?

She balls up the hand that she’d been imagining touching Bucky with and nods. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I’m tired. Think I’m gonna … go get ready for bed.”

She glances over at Steve, but he looks mopey and eager to get out of the room just like his husband does, cementing the notion in Mary’s mind that they don’t want to be with her that way. No doubt they will if push comes to shove, because Linda’s told them Mary needs a sexual dynamic, but it’s not something they’re excited about. Mary knows men: They’re not the sort to sit around and wait for a girl they like to make the first move. And certainly not a man like Bucky, of all people. 

She tries not to be hurt by it, but still gets a little weepy while brushing her teeth, the unintended rejection stinging more when she’s down in the tingly, vulnerable throes of subspace. She spits, rinses, flosses, rinses. Grabs the mouthwash that she hates to use but that Bucky has ordered her to always use after brushing her teeth at night. 

She says goodnight to Steve and Bucky through the safety of her closed bedroom door, and despite her voice being warbly, neither one of them knocks on the door to see what’s up. That drives the point home, and Mary tucks herself into bed with the mindset that she’ll let them know they don’t have to sleep with her just to be nice or to help her or whatever. She’ll just find a way to convince them that she really is fine with going to one of the ProDoms, and that it really is a better arrangement.

Better than a pity fuck, at least.

It’s disappointing to know that Mary prefers the ProDom, that she doesn’t want to make their relationship sexual, but Bucky gets it, and he knows that he shouldn’t be surprised. He’s not exactly an easy person to get along with, after all. He’s prickly as fuck, grumpy, bossy, selfish. And aside from her natural submission, Mary’s personality clashes with his horribly. Steve is essential, but he just isn’t enough to successfully buffer between the two of them—not enough to make her want them that way, at least. 

Bucky can see the profound disappointment in Steve’s eyes that night, as Mary doesn’t react the way they were both hoping, doesn’t take the offerings Bucky puts out.

They have to let it be her choice, of course, having planned it out and discussed it between just the two of them. It's all anybody ever talks about in the D/s community these days: making sure subs are the initiators at key moments like this, not letting domination creep in and become manipulation-so easy to do with how naturally vulnerable and people pleasing submissives are. Gone are the days when Doms like Bucky were encouraged to guide new partners in the "right" direction. That leads to too much trauma, too many subs in situations they don't really want. Mary has to be left to make the choice on her own, it's her right.

But it's still the hardest fucking thing for him to do, to just sit there and wait passively. And it still stings when she looks straight at his erection and declares that she’s ready for bed. Well, if it wasn’t clear before.

Steve looks like a friggin’ kicked puppy, as he stands outside of Mary’s closed bedroom door and bids her goodnight. Bucky nudges him in the direction of their own room and murmurs, “Come on, Sweetheart.” 

In their bedroom, they each get undressed. Steve continues to mope, so Bucky goes up to him and places a hand on his shoulder and rubs. “Hey. Don’t sulk. You’ve still got me.” Steve’s mouth twitches in a small smile and Bucky’s heart flares with fondness for him. “You wanna play a game?” he offers, leaning in and kissing him once on the lips. “Mm?” He looks down pointedly to both of their boners that haven’t completely lagged since tv time ended.

“Okay.” 

Bucky hums and turns, putting his left shoulder out. “Lend a guy a hand?” Steve obliges. He removes the prosthetic arm with practiced motions. Bucky moans quietly at how good it feels to get the heavy weight off. “Fuck.” He rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck each way with a blissed out groan. “Yes.”

“You’ve been wearing it more than usual, lately,” Steve points out, going over to set it on the table at Bucky’s side of the bed. “Why?”

He already knows: Bucky can tell from the way he asks it. He grunts and looks away, refraining from answering. He normally only wears the arm to work and to the gym, skipping it around the house or when he’s just got simple errands to run. There’s a surprising amount he can do just fine without the use of two arms, and he’s been confident about being seen in public without it for a long time now, thanks to Steve and their friends at the V.A. Being self conscious about it again after all these years isn’t something Bucky wants to admit out loud or think about, but Steve isn’t stupid. He can put two and two together. 

“Babe,” he says softly, walking back over to stand behind him. He wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist and noses into his neck. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Bucky inhales deeply. “I know. I’m not.” Steve makes a sound that clearly says he doesn’t believe that. But Bucky doesn’t want to talk about it, so he reaches back with the only arm he has to grab playfully at the side of Steve’s ass. “Go in the bathroom. Get the water going how I like.”

Steve groans and thunks his forehead against the back of Bucky’s neck. “Not that game,” he complains, though there’s no conviction to it. He slinks off towards the bathroom to go do as he’s been told. “I hate that game.”

“Fuck you. You love that game.” 

Steve shoots him the finger from over his shoulder, but something about his naked body and tight little ass being on display strips the gesture of its animosity. He disappears into the bathroom and Bucky walks over to their bedroom dresser to grab a hair tie, still snickering. He sobers when he takes one from the valet tray and realizes that he’ll have to have Steve tie his hair back. That’s one thing he never could figure out how to do one handed. He stands there and looks in the mirror above the dresser, studying the left side of his body in a way that he rarely does anymore. 

He’s gotten so used to it: his life with Steve, whom he knows down to his bones accepts him unconditionally. He’s almost forgotten what it feels like to be self conscious about his body. Bucky hasn’t known how to talk about it, and Mary hasn’t asked. She’s seen him with his sleeves rolled up to the elbow, or in tee shirts at the gym, but that’s all so far. Sometimes he’ll catch her looking, but he’s got no clue what she’s thinking. He considers his reflection, looks at the scars and puckered skin, the implanted base of the arm where his stump used to be. He doesn’t like the uncomfortability of being critical of his body again. In a way, he almost resents Mary for it, for making that feeling come back after all these years. Silly, he knows. 

“Babe?” Steve’s voice calls out from the bathroom. Bucky’s ears register the sound of rushing water. “You coming?” 

Bucky inhales deeply and decides it doesn’t matter anyway. Mary wants a ProDom, not them, so he doesn’t have to stress over what she thinks about any part of his body, let alone the one part he doesn’t have.

“Yeah.” He turns his back to the judgmental mirror and heads towards his very non-judgmental best guy.

“Okay. Stop clenching.”

Steve exhales shakily, but he does obey, body slumping back against the end of the tub as he relaxes his muscles. “Fuck,” he breathes, overwhelmed.

“Hand too, Baby.”

His hand abandons his dick in the bathwater. “Ungh.”

Bucky smiles lazily and rubs the side of his foot against Steve’s hip in praise. “Good boy.”

They’re in the bathtub together, opposite ends, legs tangled. Their combined bulk displaces the water all the way up to above their shoulders, but that’s part of the game: they’re not allowed to splash on the floor, so they can’t jerk off very hard or fast. First one to splash water on the floor is the automatic loser and has to bottom the next time they fuck (Bucky added that little caveat because he’s very good at not splashing, whereas Steve is hopelessly clumsy and overeager ). “How you doing, Sweetheart?” he asks, drinking in the sight of Steve with his lips parted, chest heaving, squirming. He’s pink from temple to tits, flushed from the bathwater and arousal both, and Bucky loves it. “You’re not close already, are you?” he tuts, grinning. “So sensitive.”

“Buck,” Steve croaks, heated eyes dragging over Bucky’s body at the other end of the tub where he’s still gently jerking himself off. “Please.”

Bucky affords himself another toe-curlingly good swipe over the head of his dick before he nods. “Okay. Slow. Just like me”

Steve huffs and wraps his hand back around himself, stroking his dick in slow, measured strokes, just like Bucky said. Bucky’s guts warm and another heady rush of dominance swirls low in his belly at watching Steve do exactly as he says. “You can start workin’ it again, too,” he says.

Steve moans gratefully. “Thank you. Fuck.” His abs start clenching, his body straining again with visible tension as he works the Aneros that’s seated up inside him. Under the water, his knees move in and out in that instinctive motion as he tries to rock it just right. But it’s hard to do it with the water so high, and more than once he catches himself and holds back at the sight of the bathwater sloshing precariously close to the lip of the tub. At one point he gasps and his eyes slam shut, and Bucky figures the toy must’ve shifted to press even more directly against his prostate. 

“Ooh, does that feel good, Stevie?”

Steve peeks his eyes open, glaring across the way at him. “You know it does.”

Bucky does, in fact, know exactly how good it feels—because he’s got another of the exact same toy inside of himself, right now. “I don’t know why you still agree to play this game,” he taunts, grunting from the effort of holding back his own moan as his prostate gets a firm prod from the head of the toy. “You—nngh—you always wind up losing.”

“Yeah, well …” Steve’s throat bobs as he swallows heavily. “Maybe I don’t mind you coming out on top, sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” Bucky scoffs, but he’s breathing heavier than he was thirty minutes ago, his composure slipping the longer he works the toy inside himself and jerks himself off agonizingly slowly underneath the water. In fact, he’s not even sure it even counts as jerking off at this slow a pace.

Edging is something he’d introduced Steve to early on in their relationship, as soon as he’d realized how delightfully sensitive his new boyfriend was. And Steve, the big idiot, had worried Bucky wouldn’t like it, had actually thought of it as a negative! An absurd notion that Bucky promptly disabused him of. Watching his ungodly sexy blond behemoth of a husband whine and squirm and struggle to hold himself in check is one of the fucking hottest things Bucky’s ever seen—and he’s seen a lot. He’d been a bit of a manwhore back in his heyday, racking up the bodies as he fought to find himself as a Dom and accept the body an IED had left him with.

Steve, his overly-sensitive, glorious hunk of a then-boyfriend, had helped him to do both. And it’s times like this where Bucky remembers just how goddamn lucky he is. Having Steve to love and fuck around with feels like the best gift in the world. 

At the other end of the tub, the water sloshes as something he’s done to himself makes Steve’s breath hitch in another helpless moan. He tosses his head back for a moment, eyes clamped shut as his expression crumples beautifully and he whimpers. Bucky’s ass clenches down hard in arousal at the sight, which only makes the toy in his ass rub over his prostate that much better. His cock throbs as his pleasure flares dangerously high. Fuck, he wants to come. 

Licking his lips, he decides it's time to end this. His balls are pulled up too close to his body, taut and full and aching for release. Trying to school his breathing into something resembling nonchalance is a lost cause, and his face feels almost as flushed as Steve’s looks right now. Bucky decides to call it, because even though he’s the automatic favorite to win this game every time, he is capable of losing, if he gets too caught up in ogling Steve’s body and reactions and doesn’t focus enough on playing his cards right. “Okay,” he finally says, smirking when Steve’s head jerks back to attention, his irises visibly flaring in excitement. “Yeah, Baby. It’s time.”

“Fuck.”

“You ready for the home stretch?” He waggles his eyebrows and lets his head rest back against the tub, spreading his legs wider and keeping his eyes on Steve. “Gotta keep up,” he instructs, even though Steve already knows how this goes. When Bucky tightens his hand and speeds up the pace of how fast he’s jerking himself off, Steve copies him. That’s how it is at the end of this—totally-rigged-in-Bucky’s-favor—game. They both jerk off at the pace that Bucky sets, and the first one to splash water on the floor or come is the loser. It’s not very fair, but Bucky never claimed he was a fair guy. He is, in fact, selfish as fuck. 

Lucky for him, Steve’s into that.

“Fuck,” Steve pants from his end of the tub. He slides down lower, keeping more of his body under the water in an attempt to prevent splashing. It’s a futile effort, though, because he’s doomed to lose anyway with the faster pace that Bucky’s set. Already, he’s going lobster red in the face, brow pinched and desperate, knees knocking the sides of the tub as he compulsively works the toy in his ass. 

The arousal in Bucky’s gut coils tighter at the sight. “Watch my hand,” he warns, when he notices Steve slacking off. “Gotta match it, Baby.”

“I am.”

“Tighter,” he says, eyes gleaming. “And stop avoiding the head. I can see you cheatin’ over there, Punk.”

Steve whimpers, and Bucky knows that he really wasn’t going as tight as he is, because Steve’s hand changes its hold and he starts getting the head of his dick with the same intensity that Bucky is. Bucky grins open mouthed, panting. “Atta boy.”

“You should—ugn.” Steve grimaces. “Should get a penalty, for being cut. I should get an extra, nnnh, th-thirty seconds, at least.”

Bucky laughs, because trust Steve to think of a sportsman’s solution to the inequity of their dicks. Steve being uncut means that it takes less intense stimulation for him to come. They both know this, Bucky loves this, and again: he never claimed the game was fair. “No penalty,” he grunts, speeding up his pace even further. Steve’s eyes widen but he matches it. Bucky grits his teeth. He can hold out long enough. Steve’ll blow in seconds at this pace. 

And sure enough, it’s not even twenty seconds later when Steve is crying out, body tensing and muscles straining gorgeously as he seizes up and starts to come. “Agh!” His knees fling out hard and hit the sides of the tub, splashing water over the lip to the floor below. But he hasn’t even noticed, he’s so lost to his orgasm. His asshole is twitching, sucking on the Aneros as the contractions of his body pull the toy up against his prostate again and again, drawing the pleasure out. He shoves down hard in the water and shouts louder, as though he’s getting a second orgasm on top of the first. “Ohnfuck …” 

Bucky groans as he watches it happen: Steve’s gorgeous face and juddering hips, big hand wringing up hard underneath the head the whole way through. The fucking sounds he makes, Jesus wept. It’s leagues better than any porn Bucky’s ever seen. “Fuck, Baby,” he praises. “Yes. Fuck that’s so hot …” 

Steve’s hand keeps working the whole way through, only abandoning his cock once it’s fully spent and softening, the cloudy ribbons of his cum floating away in the bathwater. “Fuck,” he exhales hugely once it’s done, letting his body go lax and slump so far down that only his face is above the waterline.

Bucky grunts and spreads his legs wider, not heeding the splashing rule now that he’s already won. The water splashes precariously as he shoves his hips down and down and down, squeezing the shape of the toy inside so fucking perfectly. Fuck, it feels fucking good working over his spot like that. “Oghnnn,” he pants, grunting and groaning and jerking his cock hard. “Fuck, Baby. You’re so fucking pretty. Fuck. M’gonna cum …” 

Steve gives a sated hum from his end of the tub. Bucky can sense him shifting in the water, and then gasps when he feels the ball of Steve’s foot gently press up on his balls. His eyes fly open and he looks down. “Oh, shit,” he whispers. “Fuck, fuck.”

Steve grins and rubs his foot against him. And Bucky doesn’t have that fetish, but there’s something so fucking perverse about seeing Steve’s toes up against his balls that it turns his brain to mush anyway and pushes him right on over into orgasm. He shoots off beneath the water, stroking and thrusting and moaning—and probably splashing water all over the floor just as badly as Steve ever has.

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every time i revisit the spice girls im almost shocked by how "normal""looking they are. like theyre pretty ofc but they all look like they cld just be your coworker at burger king. not a filler or bbl in sight..and they were a Worldwide phenomenon,! personally my first real introduction to pop culture. its an interesting gauge of how rapidly the entertainment industry has spiralled into these completely unsustainable standards, to the point that even with stars getting their entire faces rearranged 5 times before they reach 25 it's still not enough to keep people from pointing out how they don't look close enough to a tiktok beauty filter irl. the public horrified to find out kylie jenner does indeed possess the normal human feature of nasolabial folds when she smiles despite blurring them out in all her selfies Wow scandal alert Get Her!!! and it hasnt even been 30 years since spice girls debuted like.. beauty standards have always existed just wild to have witnessed this extreme acceleration of celeb aesthetics all within my relatively short lifespan. like when do we get to the point where it all just collapses in on itself and burns out for good..

[scoonsalicious]

Reminder: I am on a posting break for new content until May 23rd so that I can focus on writing WFLT...

Today, I have something special for you for the final day of my break, lol. This is the first written chapter of a fic I started writing last year called The End of His Line. It's a Bucky x OFC that made it to about 70k words before I abandoned it for Unwanted. Maybe I'll revisit it someday. It's entirely self-indulgent, not edited very much, and takes place after TFATWS. The premise is that Bucky's been having some trouble since the events of the series, particularly hearing voices. Sam's suggested they contact a friend of his, someone known as The Archivist, who might be able to get them access to Hydra's records on the Winter Soldier program in an attempt to figure out what's going on with him.

Totally self-indulgent and NOT an author-insert, because her name is Sarah and my name is Sara, and they are two, totally different names! Yeah, okay, we both may have auburn hair, but both those elements are important to the story! Plus, our eyes are totally different colors! ;)

Enjoy!

Bucky sat at a table in a dimly lit diner in Midtown, just a few blocks south of Grand Central Station, where Sam had arranged for the two of them to meet this mysterious ‘Archivist’ of his.

Bucky pressed his back against the cold brick wall, feeling more alone than ever. The bustling city streets were a world away from him now, and it was as if he was completely invisible to the waves of people that walked by him. He peered out at them through the window, feeling every bit of his one-hundred-nine years old while all around him remained oblivious.

He glanced at his watch. He was early, having been far too anxious for answers to sit still in his barren apartment, just waiting. And frankly, he didn’t want to be alone. Loneliness visited him a lot more frequently now that Sam set up permanent residence back in Delacroix. Bucky was always welcome to visit, and he did, but after too long, the sight of Sam, surrounded by family and community, always seemed to weigh too heavily on Bucky’s chest, and he’d be reminded of how much he missed Steve’s presence in his life. 

A part of Bucky resented Steve’s choice to leave him alone in this foreign world, when Steve had been his only lifeline. Then Bucky would remember everything Steve had sacrificed to bring him back from the darkness, and Bucky would feel ashamed. How could he begrudge his best friend the chance to live the life that had been stolen from him?

Your life was stolen, too, the quiet voice whispered from the darkest corner of his mind. It’s not as though Steve had to go alone. He could have taken you with him. So much for the end of the line.

Bucky slapped his metal fist on the table in an attempt to force the voice back into submission. Instead, the napkin holder on the table shook with the reverberation, causing an older couple a few tables over to look up in alarm. He really needed to stop spending so much time alone. 

The sun had risen over the zenith of the avenues, the heat of its rays amplified through the diner windows and making Bucky uncomfortably hot in his leather jacket. He shrugged it off and tossed it over the back of his vinyl chair as the bell above the diner door cheerfully rang. Sam approached the table and took a seat next to him, placing a large round bag next to his chair.

“You brought the shield?” Bucky asked, puzzled. “I thought this was a friend of yours. Are we expecting trouble?” Sam fiddled with the zipper of the bag, opening it and arranging the flap just so, so that the unmistakable red and blue could be seen without being too obvious. 

“Nah, no trouble. Just…” Sam sat up and Bucky noticed his clothes were a bit… fancier than normal. “Doesn’t hurt to remind people it’s there, is all.”

Understanding dawned on Bucky. “You’re either trying to intimidate the shit out of this Archivist, or,” he smiled ruefully at his friend, “you’re trying like hell to impress ‘em.”

Sam laughed good naturedly. “I figure it can’t hurt to try a little bit of both. We’re going for a pretty big ask, after all.” He was right. They were asking for all known (and hopefully, any heretofore unknown) records related to the super-soldier serum that created both Bucky and Steve, and the Winter Soldier program that had turned Bucky into a mindless killer. It was a tall order and, depending on where those records might be and who might hold them, a potentially dangerous one. Sam swore, on his family’s boat, no less, that if there were any records out there to be found, The Archivist was the one to find them. Bucky had no problem placing his trust in Sam, but he was wary of involving any stranger, especially when it concerned the most vulnerable parts of himself.

A waitress approached their table, jeans suffocatingly tight and her top cropped entirely too high. She smiled at them both. “What can I get for you two handso—” Her eyes widened at the sight of the shield. “Oh. My. God.” She squealed at Sam. “You’re Captain America!”

Great. Here we go, thought Bucky, as the waitress began to gush and fawn all over Sam. His friend, of course, ate it up. If there was one thing Sam loved more than being recognized as the new Captain America, it was being recognized as the new Captain America by attractive women. She kept twirling a strand of shockingly pink hair with one hand and casually stroking Sam’s shoulder with the other. 

God, but these modern girls are forward. He was thankful her attention wasn’t directed at him, because Bucky never knew how to respond to brazen flirting girls were empowered with today, and his first instinct was always to run away. It was so much easier Before. The guy would take charge, make all the moves. He’d know where he stood from the jump. You’d ask a girl out, buy her flowers, take her dancing. There was beauty in the structure, in the process. But now? The whole thing seemed to be a damned free-for-all, where everything that came out of a woman’s mouth could be mistaken for a sexual invitation. It was unnerving.

Or maybe it’s been so long since any woman’s actually touched that you think everything they say and do is a come on. A voice. Not the dark one that whispered his greatest fears to him, but still, not his own, either.

“I’m ready to order!” Bucky cut in, loud and awkward, out of nowhere, to drown out the voice. Sam and the waitress startled out of their flirting.

“Yeah, of course,” said the waitress, giving him a cautious look. “What can I get for you?” 

Bucky stumbled, realizing he honestly had no idea– he hadn’t even seriously considered the menu. Well, great. “Uh… I…”

“Why don’t you just get us a couple of coffees for now, sweetheart?” Sam asked with a blinding smile, diverting the waitress’  attention away from Bucky and back on to him. “We’re still waiting on one more.” The waitress beamed back at him.

“Sure thing, Cap.” She gently brushed a hand across Sam’s shoulder before turning and walking back toward the kitchen.

Bucky’s eyes involuntarily rolled in his head. “You just can’t help yourself, can you, Cap?” he asked, grinning.

“Nah, nah– we’re not gonna sit and pretend you’re feeling all normal. What was that about?” Shit. The worst thing about becoming so close with Sam was that it was becoming next to impossible to hide things from him. This new Captain America was beginning to know him almost as well as the last. Almost, said a voice. But you’re keeping this from him. Some friend you are. Okay, that voice might have been Bucky’s.

He was spared from uttering a response by the tinkling of a bell, heralding the arrival of a woman through the diner's entrance. Bucky glanced up to catch her figure silhouetted against the afternoon sun, holding in one hand a massive frozen beverage. His breath hitched as she paused to inspect her phone, her teeth nibbling her lower lip in concentration. He had never met this woman before his long, long life, yet there was something so overwhelmingly familiar about her that it provoked an indescribable feeling of nostalgia within Bucky, as if he had been lost and suddenly found home.

As if in a trance, Bucky felt his eyes drawn to her clothes. The dress seemed like it had been taken from the same shops he'd visited with his sister before he enlisted. And it fit her perfectly - a sage green tea dress snugly clung to her curves and hugged all the right places, high-waisted with capped sleeves, a v-neck collar, and hidden pleats creating a skirt that cut off just below her knees. Below, cream kitten heels made her calves look defined and graceful. She looked as though she had stepped out of time and into this room, embracing him with an aura of beauty and history that was both familiar and captivating – so stunning it made Bucky’s breath catch in his throat.

His gawking was quickly halted by the raspy sound of a chair grating across the Formica floor. Sam leapt to his feet and yelled out “Hey, gorgeous! Right here!” Bucky felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him in addition to the shock he felt at his friend’s behavior. It didn't surprise him that he would act like a flirt; however, it was immensely inappropriate for him to catcall an unsuspecting woman like that.

But when the woman looked up at the sound of Sam’s voice, a wide smile broke out across her face and she headed toward their table. Her auburn hair bounced with each step, and Bucky was taken in by the way the late summer light through the window brought out streaks of warm copper in her flowing waves. He blinked. Did he seriously just think that? Yes, he couldn’t blame that thought on anyone but himself. Those clothes were messing with him.

You fucking idiot, he scolded himself. Get your shit together!

When she reached their table, she opened her arms wide and enveloped Sam in an embrace. Bucky watched as the two exchanged a hug, not really understanding why he was feeling so strangely… jealous, maybe? He’d known that they were close – after all, Sam had specifically requested her help in this endeavor – but he hadn’t expected his body to respond so aggressively to her presence.

The woman let go of Sam and held him at arms’ length, studying him. 

“You look good, Sammy. How’ve you been?”

Bucky cocked his head and mouthed “Sammy?” His friend either didn’t see or chose to ignore him.

“Can’t complain–  being Captain America and all that ain’t too bad,” Sam said with a flirtatious smirk.

And here we go again, thought Bucky, with more than his usual trace of annoyance. Where was this anger coming from?

The woman threw her head back and laughed, the sound of it like water tumbling over rocks. “I’m sure that line plays really well with the ladies, but you forget I’m immune. Captain America is, quite possibly, the least sexy thing I can imagine.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said with a good natured shrug and grin. “I keep forgetting you’re about the only girl on the planet who’s got her Avengers inoculations. Can’t blame a guy for trying his luck, though.”

She put a finger to her cheek in mock contemplation. “Come to think of it, I don’t believe I’m up-to-date on my Thor-vaccinations, actually,” she shot back with a grin of her own. “But I’m willing to risk it if exposure were to ever occur…”

“And that is why I will never introduce you to him,” Sam joked.

“And here I thought that was because he has no idea you exist.”

Sam grabbed his heart in mock pain. “Oof, you know where to hurt me, woman!”

Their banter was natural, effortless. Bucky wondered what it was like to be able to talk to someone, especially someone of the opposite sex, with such ease.

They’re friends, said the voice. He’s not tongue-tied because, unlike some people, he’s not imaging what it would be like to fu–

Bucky shot up from his chair and held out his hand. “Hi.”

“Shit, sorry. My manners. Bucky, this is Agent–”

“I’m retired, Sammy,” she interrupted as she took Bucky’s hand and shook it. “Sarah’s fine, for polite conversation. And you’re Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.” The way she said his name rode down Bucky’s spine like an electric current. 

"Bucky's fine, for polite conversation," he managed to shoot back, smugly pleased with himself when he noticed one corner of her mouth ticked up into a ghost of a half smile.

“It’s so good to finally meet you, Bucky. I’ve heard so many stories about you, I feel like I already know you” she said, letting go of Bucky’s hand and nodding to their chairs. “Shall we?” The three sat down, Bucky shoving his hand under the table. He stretched out his fingers, focusing on the sensation of where their skin had touched. It was warm and strangely comforting, the way a forgotten song might linger in one’s memory. She’d heard things? About him? From who, Sam? God, what? None of it could have been good.

Their waitress returned then with their coffees, and if she thought she’d have the opportunity to resume her flirtations with Sam, she was sorely disappointed. 

“What can I get you?” she asked Sarah, rather brusquely, Bucky thought. It was as if she resented their companion’s presence as competition for Sam’s attention.

“Nothing; thanks,” Sarah said, and if she noticed the waitresses hostility, she gave no sign. “I can’t stay long.” Bucky wasn’t sure what he had expected from this meeting, but the idea that it would be over quickly was suddenly a disappointment. He watched her as she took a long sip from a straw plunged into a pile of whipped cream in her cup. He noticed her eyes were incredibly blue.

"Did you want some?" she asked, holding out her cup to him. Bucky realized she had mistaken his scrutiny of her to be an interest in her drink.

"Nah, man," said Sam. "You'd better not. Your old geezer system isn't used to handling that amount of sugar. You’ll get diabetes."

He was probably right– everything these days was so full of sugar that Bucky didn’t know how people could stand it– but he was emboldened by the offer, and didn’t enjoy the idea of her equating him with an “old geezer,” so he shot Sam an arched look and accepted the cup from her. He licked his lips as he drew the straw to him; there was something incredibly intimate about putting his mouth where hers had just been a moment before. He gave a hard pull.

And instantly gagged. The intense sweetness of it cloyed at his mouth and he took a swallow from his own cup of bitter, black coffee to cleanse the taste. Sam erupted in laughter, finding the entire thing hilarious.

"Gah!--" Bucky thrust the beverage back at her, "What even is that?”  As she took back the cup, Bucky flinched self consciously, realizing he had just returned the drink with his metal arm. He was relieved to see that she didn’t seem to notice, or at the very least chose not to acknowledge it at all.

"It’s a Pumpkin Spice Frozen Coffee. And maybe that makes me a Basic Bitch,” she cut off Sam, who was obviously on the verge of making some comment to that effect, “then so be it, because it’s fucking delicious.” She made 'fucking' sound both incredibly innocent and yet highly suggestive at the same time, and suddenly Bucky couldn't help but notice the slight inward cave of her cheeks as she sucked at the straw… He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Why was it so warm in here all of a sudden? 

"Well, now you got him all hot and bothered, Sarah." Sam casually draped his arm around Bucky's shoulders, and Bucky was mortified – was he so completely transparent? What was he even doing, thinking like that?

"Our guy here isn't used to ladies talking with the mouths of sailors."

Bucky let out a slow breath in relief. Yes, his discomfort was obviously over the profanity coming out of her mouth, and definitely not the intrusive thought of something else entirely going into it.

Sarah just shrugged. "Yeah, my Pops is a fogey about language, too." Bucky winced at being compared to her grandfather, but she gave him a playful wink and Bucky felt something low in his stomach turn over. But the comment seemed to shift something in her and her demeanor turned serious. "So, boys, to business, then? I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a time crunch." She pulled out a notebook, pen at the ready.

“We’re trying to locate some documents,” Sam began.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “No shit. I don’t expect you to call me when you’re looking to run guns, Sammy.”

Bucky blanched. “Is… that a thing you do?” 

Sarah shrugged a single shoulder. “Not so much anymore.” She was joking, clearly. He was sixty percent sure she was joking. Turning back to Sam, she asked: “Any reason why you can’t hop onto the library’s online catalog and start your search there, or do you need me to explain Boolean Operators to you again?”

Bucky had absolutely no idea what Boolean Operators were, but he didn’t think he’d mind having her explain them to him at all.

“Oh god, no, please,” said Sam, taking a sip of his own coffee. “Besides, I don’t think the New York Public Library’s going to have access to the kind of databases we’re after.”

Sarah groaned in frustration and closed her notebook. “I’m retired Sammy. You know what that means, right? I. don’t. work. there. anymore. Besides, Romanoff uploaded everything they had back in ‘14; whatever you’re looking for should be all over the public domain by now.” She said Natasha’s name with a trace of disdain that didn’t go unnoticed by either Bucky or Sam.

“Hey,” Sam began defensively, “she was just doing what she had to expo–”

“She exposed a lot of covers and it got a lot of good people killed, Sam,” Sarah spat back with an anger Bucky hadn’t anticipated. “There were better ways to handle it. Smarter ways.”

“Nobody thought–” Sam tried again.

“No, that’s the problem, isn’t it? None of you ever think. Avengers just do, right? And leave everyone else to clean up their fucking mess?” They were losing ground here, and quickly.

“Sarah, please,” Sam practically begged her. “You and I both know that what Natasha released was only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to what S.H.I.E.L.D.’s actually got. What Stark had.”

“Well, someone’s been running his goddamn mouth,” she muttered angrily. “I can’t imagine he was lucid when he told you that.” 

Stark? Tony? That couldn’t be the he they were referring to– Tony’d been dead for two years. Hard to be running your mouth in that case. Sam seemed to know exactly who she meant, though.

“Not exactly, no,” he told her. “But it’s not like I went fishing for it, Sarah. He just let it slip, and that you’ve still got the clearance, if you want it; you just need the access. You know they’d piss themselves with delight if you walked your ass back in the door, and not a single person’s going to bat an eye if you just so happen to browse through the Archives when you did.”

“You think that ‘access’ is just going to come for free, Sam?” she asked. “There’ll be strings attached. There always are.” She stood up and shoved her notebook haphazardly into her bag. “I’m sorry, but the answer is no. I won’t do it.”

Sam stood up and reached out to stop her, grabbing her arm.

“Sarah, please. Don’t do it for me, or even Bucky.” Sarah glanced in his direction, but Bucky couldn’t meet her stare. “Do it for him,” Sam practically begged. “You know how much it would mean to your—” Sarah looked at his hand on her arm and forcefully tore herself from his grip before Sam could finish his sentence.

“That’s a fucking low blow, Wilson. Especially now.” And she turned her back to them both and walked out the door, leaving the bell clanging in her wake.

“Shit. Shit!” Sam slunk back into his chair, defeated. “I figured she wouldn’t like it, but I didn’t think she’d go full ‘Wilson’ on me. Maybe hit ‘Samuel.’ I at least thought she’d hear us out, let me persuade her.”

“Should we follow her?” Bucky asked. “Try to change her mind?”

“No. We try that right now and she’s likely to shoot us.” Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“Literally, man. Nah, she’s gotta cool off. We gotta re-approach from another angle, but the hell if I know what that’s going to be.” He sighed and ran a hand over his head. “I’m sorry, man. I pushed too hard, too fast. I should have eased into her.” Bucky deliberately shoved Sam’s phrasing out of his mind.

“What’s her story, Sam?” It was more than professional courtesy that led Bucky to ask. He found himself thirsty for any drop of knowledge about her Sam could give.

“Sarah Grant,” Sam said with a sigh. “She’s ex-S.H.I.E.L.D., was with them until the whole HYDRA fiasco thing,” he shot Bucky a look, as if to imply it was his HYDRA fiasco “thing.” Bucky scowled at him. “She transferred to the C.I.A. after S.H.I.E.L.D disbanded, but watercooler gossip has it she was running side missions for Fury while he worked on rebuilding. She’s never confirmed it for me, though. She was on assignment oversees when the Snap happened, and by the time she got un-dusted and made it back stateside, she decided to hang it all up and become a librarian, of all fucking things.” Sam’s tone belied his absolute disbelief that someone would transition from Special Agent to Librarian, and while Bucky did find it strange, he was also intrigued. What would cause a person to make such a drastic life change?

“So, if she’s retired, what makes you think she can just walk back in and get us what we need?” he asked.

“Man, if S.H.I.E.L.D. had royalty, she’d be their damn princess.” Sam took in Bucky’s confused expression and elaborated further: “Her family’s been top brass at S.H.I.E.L.D. from the beginning. She was practically raised with the expectation to run that place. Hell, she’s probably got tiny little S.H.I.E.L.D.s running through her blood. It’s in her DNA.”

“She didn’t seem very thrilled at the idea of a homecoming,” Bucky reminded him. “Why give it up?”

“Yeah, well… Things changed; S.H.I.E.L.D.’s not S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore, is it? At least not the S.H.I.E.L.D. she grew up believing in; it’s got to bother her. She gave her whole life to that damn organization and had to watch it eat itself from the inside out, like a cancer.” He looked down at the shield, still lying in its case at their feet, and Bucky knew they were both thinking of the day they watched John Walker use it to bludgeon a Flag-Smasher to death.

“It was a symbol for her, of what could be possible if good people kept doing the right thing. Somewhere along the line, that stopped meaning something.” Bucky understood her reluctance to help them, then. If it meant returning to an organization that had betrayed her, why would she do that for him, someone she didn’t even know? He couldn’t fault her for that.

“We’ll figure something else out,” he told his friend. “It was a solid lead, though, and I appreciate you trying.” Then, because he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “So, how do you know her, anyway?”

Sam stared down at his feet, as though something incredibly interesting was going on with his shoes. “Oh, yeah… Um… Her Pops was a veteran I used to council, back in the day. We met through him.” Bucky could tell when Sam was being deliberately cagey, and while he didn’t really want to ask, he had to know…

“You two ever… ?” he gestured vaguely.

Sam barked out a laugh. “Oh, God, no! Her Pops would literally beat my ass! He’s old, but he’s still got an arm on him. Uh uh, she’s on the no-fly list, man. Damn shame, though,” he added, fondly. “Girl can fill out a skirt.”

“Sam.”

“What? A man can appreciate.” Sam grinned.

Bucky rolled his eyes as he grabbed the shield case. “Let’s get outta here.”

They stepped out of the diner and out into the early afternoon light, the sun casting a warm glow on the city around them. Bucky looked back as they walked away, though, he couldn’t help but think of the intriguing woman who had just stormed out of the restaurant and wondered if they’d ever find a way to get her to help them.

The voice in his head was telling him he hadn’t seen the last of Sarah Grant.

[sminiac]

any brat!hyunwoo thoughts?? i think hes the type of guy who whines a lot and you just have to slap him.... idk..

SLAP HIM??? WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME OFC I HAVE THOUGHTS BFF.

He’d definitely not have to make a conscious effort to be difficult with you, his own needs overshadowing his capability to properly function, resulting in him slipping into a deeper subspace, and the way you treat him doesn’t help any, if he didn’t know any better he’d think that you were coaxing him into relenting to the slight change of tone you used whilst speaking to him, similar to one you’d use to scold only a small puppy for not knowing any better yet simultaneously feeding into the overindulgence that they only see as a reward for the bad behaviour.

That’s how he is.

So he couldn’t possibly have known that revisiting you every 5 minutes would be a problem, even though you had explicitly stated that he should wait until you came back to him when your very important video call was over before intruding into your room, that it was the last thing he should do. That him pacing behind you with a very dramatic, painfully evident pout on his face whilst his feet purposely thump against the floor with each step like a petulant child wouldn’t serve him any good.

In his mind his annoying attempts to sidetrack you were only minor, but suddenly it doesn’t feel that way once you’ve got him on his knees, begging audibly, visibly, just to acknowledge him, his hand tugging relentlessly at the bottom of your jeans, his eyes near tears from how desperate he is for your forgiveness.

“Never do it again, please- promise! Never, I’ll be good, jus’ look at me please Y/n, please-” he hiccups, knowing that he deserves it deep down, but you’d forgive him, right? You always forgave him.

“Just wanted your hands on me, want you t’be mean, use me- god anything.” He’d whine, the sound of his sniffles over his words make your chest ache, but the irritation is still palpable in the air, he can feel the staleness of it from the lack of a shift that would’ve usually came by now.

He leans forward, resting his chin on your knee, looking up at you with big watery eyes and swollen lips that run a little pinker than they usually are. “Touch me.. know you wan’ to.”

That was definitely not the case, he knows immediately from the way your expression morphs into a grimace at the sudden boldness of his baseless implication’s that he shouldn’t have said it, but it’s too late now, he can’t do a thing when you’ve got him with his back flat against the cushions on the couch, the bottom of his shirt shoved into his mouth and his zipper tugged down with a force that almost pulls him into you.

“Such a slut, you’d do anything to get my hands on your dick..” he shakes his head, the bridge of his nose flushing red from the way you handle him, seeping its way across his cheeks, god he loved when you were mean without having to ask. “It wasn’t a question, ‘f course you would. What if someone saw? Already hard and I’ve barely touched you. I mean this is sad, really Hyunwoo.”

Your voice only makes his head feel fuzzier, his fingers so quick to attempt to hook into the top of his bottoms, just needs them out of the way already, but you shove him back. “Knock it off, you’re already pissing me off.”

Would he listen though? Of course not, just needs to be stripped of his clothes, to be on display for you, at your will, your direction. So he returns back to the fabric, but you’re quick in catching his wrists in your grasp, holding them so tight together that he can feel his bones poking into each other through skin, a small whimper slipping past the saliva soaked fabric.

“I mean it Hyunu, last chance.”

You bring both of his wrists into one of your hands, keeping them pressed together so your other hand can come to swipe at the spit that’s trickled down his chin, gently wiping it away and sucking it clean. The action only reinvigorates his bubbling need that runs warm in the pit of his stomach.

Your hand runs up the length of him a generous amount of times before you’re letting him go and standing from your seated position, he’s quick to follow you, a muffled sound of disagreement coming from his mouth until you’re shushing him with a jagged glare that makes his cock twitch in place, heavy against his tummy, wet with pre that beads off of his head and falls onto his skin.

He quiets down seeing you strip of your clothes, returning to him with nothing but thin panties on, the ones he’s sure that he’s told you over a thousand times that he favours over any other pair you own.

His mouth opens so wide with a pretty moan once you’ve adjusted yourself comfortably over him, lining him up and sinking down, his shirt falls with a weight against his chest with the amount of moisture it’s soaked up from his tongue. “Fu-Fuck! fuckfuckfuck- s’good, so fucking good.” He rambles, his hips already keen on bringing him to meet his end as quickly as he can.

“Slo-Fuck, slow down oh my god.”

But he doesn’t listen, not until your hand meets the soft of his cheek.

The sudden contact wasn’t heavy, nor debilitating, but it was enough for the surface of his skin to prickle, he barely registers what happened before he’s panting “Again, again- please, do it again, ‘ll be good.” And your hand returns, although the amount of force doesn’t amount to the same as the previous it still has him tipping over the edge, the feeling of his high far from his brain in a way that restrains him from enjoying the moment, like he’s knocked into his orgasm so fast he couldn’t even process that it happened until you’ve gone still on top of him, your hand now rubbing gently against his cheek.

“Can we do that again? Right now please, you’re doing that to me again.”

[chuckle-clips]

thank you for posting these clips they are such a joy and wonderful way to revisit some highlights im literally posted up kicking my feet giggling watching them rotating them in my mind sooooo hard they’re at Mach 10 speeds god bless have a blessed day

omg yeah ofc!! i love chuckle sandwich and its always so fun seeing what you guys say in the reblogs!! ^_^

[meltastic]

Reptile Rehab and Your Eyes Only/As Luck Would Have It for the WIP ask game :D

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ Reptile Rehab was an obamitsu au idea that never really made it past the outline stage, but I still love the concept and think its super cute, I might revisit it some day!! The alternate title was Itadakimasu!

▷ the premise is that Obanai has a youtube channel/social media presence where he rehabilitates a ton of different reptiles and adopts them out. He always gives them super cutesy names, he's almost never fully on camera, it's just mostly his hands. whenever he does show his face, his mouth is bandaged/covered (because of the facial scars ofc.) he has a niche but dedicated following! his fans are obsessed with his asmr-like voice :)

◁ || Mitsuri is a mukbanger with a huge following. she started the channel at the suggestion of her therapist, to help get over her disordered relationship with food. she never eats in public because she's self-conscious of how much she eats-- and neither does iguro because that would require him showing his whole face. all of their off-camera meals are very lonely...

◁ unbeknownst to each other, they are each other's biggest fans. they eventually end up collabing for one of mitsuri's mukbangs, but iguro doesnt eat anything and just stares at her with heart eyes the whole time.

i wanted it to culminate in them both helping each other eat in pubic together for the first time! on their first date :,)

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹

And oohh I'm so glad you asked about the second one, because that's a one-shot WIP I've had mostly-written out since like, January, with that title picked and everything, and then I'm perusing the uzen tag and what do i see but TITLE TAKEN!! And the fact that it's your fic (i think), just makes that way way funnier omg. That other working title, I don't know where I got it from. It doesn't have anything to do with the themes of the story, so, I've no clue..

Anyhow, it was like a small idol au concept. wherein Tengen is Zenitsu's producer/manager, the wives are Tengen's former starlets-turned makeup/choreo/costuming team, and Zenitsu is a fucking mess (naturally).

ıılıılıılıılı ♬♬ Zen basically cannot perform until he passes out from crippling stage fright. Then he performs while unconscious and he's flawless onstage. But his eyes are always closed during his sets, of course. And his fanbase, while rabid with speculation, never get to see his gorgeous sad wet baby cow eyes. Only Tengen does :)

♬ It basically culminates in like, a very fluffy somno smut scene full of praise kink and post-show aftercare. Tengen basically worshipping his little star... damn now I really wanna revisit and finish writing this thing... anyways here's a very rough snippet under the cut >:3

[dustdeepsea]

In case you were following me for this fic - "You Can't Go Home Again" is officially on hiatus.

For a couple of reasons -- I've been honestly distracted by other projects and working on art that I felt energised to create. But also, we'd reached a mid-point in the story and there was planned friction between Ina (OFC) and Dammon (which would then be overcome, for storytelling reasons). However, I cannot in good conscience write for it and ignore what's been going on while the fan community deals with the fallout from Dammon's VA's awful behaviour.

I'm non-binary and this teeny tiny blog and its network has always been a safe space, mostly because I curate my online experience extremely carefully. I don't use any other social media. I was quite numb when the news broke. Right now I feel sad and I'm grieving the changes in this comfort character, even while I try to separate the character of Dammon from the surrounding drama and discourse.

This fic was my first in many years and I learnt a lot about writing by working on the first few chapters with my generous beta reader (hey @cheetour! <3). Dammon and Ina were also the "sensible happily ever after" story I wanted to write in my middle age, after experiencing more of life's ups and downs. ("In another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.") So this story is obviously dear to me.

I'll revisit these characters when I feel ready. Thank you again to all the readers who have been so patient and continue to be x

[sleepclaus]

acd holmes shower thoughts

revisiting the hbomberguy sherlock video BC I have been steeped in ACD reading again haha, just picking apart his point Abt sherlock being ultimately a whodunnit

I think the obstacle faced when modernizing sherlock Holmes is how do you translate the problems of Victorian era to the modern era? Once u take the answer to this question seriously maybe we could have gotten competent mysteries, not "wow smartphone" or "wow look at their internet history". ACD, while ofc have outdated depictions of races/women, it still tries to brush on things and is fairly progressive for its time (like the yellow face w race and interracial marriage, scandal in Bohemia w viewing women as intellectual equals). Ofc ur there reading holmes ultimately for the mystery but there's always a human issue at the root of every case. I think early house md balances the humanity and the whodunnit really well and is enjoyable too in the level that house isn't 100% a sherlock Holmes character and an actualized character in his own right that the creator seems confident of making his own. Even then the early seasons have some great lessons (great for early 2000s times lol) where the disease is a backdrop for the personal issues they deal with. Its modern and medical so they hit two birds with one stone in the "Sherlock Holmes essence" formula.

[ragnarssons]

ok ATLA fans real question tho. This has nothing to do with anything live action or whatever, it's just pure cartoon-related stuff.

But did y'all really like the Katara at the North Pole plot? Because I mean I love it, I love Katara fighting as strongly as she does, standing up for herself against all odds and all. And as for choregraphy, it's one of my favorite fights.

But I always loved it, until it all fumbled on itself with the neckless thing. I hate, and yes, HATE the idea of Katara being a "nepobaby" and this is why she gets to learn waterbending - but all the other girls from the North Water Tribe don't get to even try. By nepobaby I mean that it's obviously Katara's parentage that opens this precise door to her and not... well the fact that she proved herself or actually changed mentalities.

In the episode right after, we do see that Katara is the only girl in the class (and at the end of Book 1, Pakku leaves the NWT, meaning he actually doesn't even stay to change his tribe's ways and include girls, like the man didn't change anything after Katara). And paralleling that, you have Yue, whose fate also never changes. She never gets to even voice her non-desire of being put in a forced marriage. Like yeah, her and Sokka oppose that to the idea of her having a duty to her tribe, and it resonates to Sokka's own dedication to his tribe, but... why don't they go further? Ofc time restriction but to me, poor Yue if she were meant to die could've had at least a self-affirming moment (especially when you create in the background another love story that got destroyed by the NWT's sexist ways, namely Pakku and Gran Gran).

It's also weird because then they put Pakku in the White Lotus. The same organization where Piandao is. Piandao who teaches sword fighting to Sokka because "the art of sword fighting shouldn't belong to one people" so huh?? I know everything was probably not planned as far ahead when writing Book 1 but it's still... 🤷‍♀️

Idk I've never actively searched if people already had this discussion but I just wanted to ask, revisiting some of Book 1 big storylines. To me, it always seemed like the Katara/Pakku thing was awesome, until the neckless really, then it kinda flops and loses all its sense, because then Katara stop actually fighting Pakku's sexism (and the dude just stops being sexist alltogether we don't even know why *shrugs* even tho he had horrible words and attitudes towards Katara before that) and the NWT's patriarchy, she just complies because she got the privilege to bypass all of it.

[joifee]

Ok ok ok, since you allowed me to ramble in your asks, I have come here as I have a fanfic idea that I cannot stop thinking about for the past two weeks, and I cannot write it yet. Thus I'm left with an idea left in my head and I gotta let it out somewhere.

So it does connect empires s1 and s2. I have an idea that when S2 Scott has gotten his magic eye, he also gets memories of his past life, which was ofc S1 Scott. And as we know, S1 Scott was courting Jimmy, despite the other not really realizing it, and later on in the series there just wasn't time for the courting.

Plus we see, at the end of S1 Scotts pov in the other realm -- in his perfect world -- it's heavily implied that those two are together or at least lived together [There was something queer romantic going on there, and I live for it]. So it made me think, that s1 Scott's pov ending was just the man's wishful thinking before his body just shuts down, and he got reincarnated years and years later as S2 Scott, only getting memories back when he got the magic eye.

Tbf I dont think it even would be that weird for the series, as S2 Sausage himself has memories of S1, so I think it would fit in some way.

I just kind of want Flower Husbands S2 where Scott now has started developing feelings for our neighboring Sherrif, but at the same time, he thinks he's just projecting his feeling onto the man, that isn't the same guy, but only looks at him and kinda behaves like the one he loved.

Funnily enough, if you watched Pix's Empire's ending [Which Im sure you did], he has also said how Tumble Town folks are actually armor stands powered by magic, they just don't really wanna admit it as time goes. So Mezalean King could have made someone similar to Jimmy [his best bud! His first and best Ally!] to try to cope. So. The sheriff isn't Jimmy in the end [at least not from what I've been thinking about atm. It can always change]. But he's just made in the image of a long-dead Codfather </3

okay but this fucking slaps i looooooove the drama when you have the time you might as well revisit it! its a nice, romantic but also sad idea lotas of angst potential BUT omg yessss he is projecting the feelings on the "armor"stand version of jimmy because he does look like esmp 1 jimmy but like its definitly not the same person, considering personality and like the fact he aint a fish anymore so of course he has to think "hey its not the same one" but he cannot help falling in love all over again with like a different version of jimmy but one: its not his jimmy and second maybe he gets over the feelings and like both of them go their own ways nkdbsblbfkjfb yeeeee thats such a good ideaaa thanks for telling me :D wanna makes me spam my ideas to you /or like my fanfic draft

[ahoneesan]

In high school I got permission to screen the 2nd Gurren Lagann movie in the school auditorium on the colossal projector and I feel like we are walking the same path

it was nice coming back to it after all this time! ttgl had genuinely dropped out of like, things that i considered My Media or whatever. it was a younger me who watched this after her first watch of evangelion, who couldnt even conceptualize the idea of being trapped in a shell, who bought her little core drill necklace off the internet. those memories are genuinely fuzzy now. time really flies.

but watching the movies for the first time (well, technically REwatching gurren-hen but still) at nearly 30, after being a girl for like a half-decade, really reminded me how much this series meant to me as a kid. how like novel and powerful the idea of looking at a fundamentally uncaring, unloving, even antagonistic universe and find the strength from others and eventually yourself to go on and go Further was. the idea that that whole time kamina was scared too, but seeing simon working so hard gave him the strength to keep pushing him onward. that even if it is all fundamentally empty and there isnt any capital M Meaning in life, despite how utterly illogical it is humans still create our own. it got to me as a little not-yet-girl who had been continually struggling with depression and questioning her christian upbringing for years. it still gets to me now. i feel pretty lucky that i can look back on that as "the past" now. but its still here in me. hopefully it always will be.

to say nothing of the style and presentation of it all. ttgl like other Teen Media is really what set me on the aesthetic trajectory im on. i tend to go to klk for that stuff nowadays for obvious reasons but chronologically its really ttgl (and like homestuck, of course) that shaped what i value about stories and animation today. it was what introduced me to the idea of real vs super robots! it introduced me to imaishi! and kazuki nakasima! kamen rider fourze, kill la kill, re: cutie honey all of this stuff for me traces back to me watching the ttgl dub on whatever pos streaming site i watched it on. im pretty grateful for that.

theres plenty of shit i could talk too, ofc. its a pretty misogynistic show in all the boring ways these anime tend to be. funny homophobic stereotype whos actually Cool and Awesome at what he does so it doesnt matter that hes a stereotype. another (the very first?) not fully baked Oppression Metaphor. due to being tv series compilations the movies' pacing can stumble at times (tho lagann-hen fares much better in this regard). but all in all this is The Way to revisit the series, i think. if you're watching for the first time i'd definitely recommend the tv show first. but for us who have been there n done that and want to remember how a drill works, you gotta watch the movies. im glad i did!

[wavesmp3]

some of my fave rbs or asks or comments ive received... thank you all :) - no need for anyone to respond or anything to this, just really wanted to put this together more for myself - i doubt most of your remember these but i do heh [more under the cut, and perhaps lil notes too depending on the comment]

the first three!! major huge moments for me. from sha (@dinoshaur) one of the first comments i received on a work that wasn't fanfic exactly. meant the world to me then, and still does now. | from @redevenir the very very first comment (i believe) i ever ever received on the sea is yours to take,, it's been nearly 4 years since i first posted that piece and people still somehow find it, and it all started with that rb | and from choco ! @chocosvt one of the very first comments/rbs i got when i started properly writing on tumblr in 2020, this got the ball rolling on what became (and still is) such a dear passion/hobby of mine (also also can you believe i still use the mlist banner that choco oh so kindly made for me ages ago LOL its beautiful, i'll never get rid of it as long as this blog exists

and moment of silence for my old url :0

the first one... when another line of mine is quoted in another piece of mine's comments... head in hands forever. 2/3 of these were left by @gracefulweather (one for sure is, and i think the uquiz comment was also left by them but not sure) but thank you either way sherri!! | the second sc tbh i don't remember who left it but it was on tsiytt and it made me feel like i achieved something in crafting that world. although i may never revisit that world in writing, i revisit it often in my mind.

flower anon your comments meant so much to me, i hope youre still out there somewhere doing well :) | and to the other anon that left the second one, i was speechless and honored to reach that ask

@hhjs amal's comments have always made me feel like im doing something otherworldly which isn't true at all but i will forever love rereading their tags. also just amal's mind in general, i wanna pick your brain forever

n! i already made an emo missing n post but here are some comments from them lol. and the last one!!! me and water <3333 when people starting associating me with water/ocean/sea/waves too <333333

@heavenlyhaechan zahra!!! there were so many ones i could have put here but this one seemed to sum it all up. you get me :p if you see this, i hope you've been well :))

@dapingu the first and third one are just ones that make me giggle still LOL and then the second one is one that i hold so so close to me cause i had absolutely no idea if anyone would read that piece but then you did ! and you left this comment even after the fact too! i was so touched. i feel like i should personally apologize for making no moves to continue the series (and probably also for deactivating the gifts and sins blog) BUT thank you nonetheless. and as a added bonus you never failed to make me laugh so thank you also for that

@thepixelelf ursa!!!! the first one is horribly cut off but is prob one of my fave notes you ever left on a fic of mine (battling also with that one sunwoo recovery files style inspired drabble) and then ofc i couldn't not mention the 'boo you whore' comment :D also so glad to have you on this site still and to have your friendship and to look at bees and bears and think of you :) you mean the world to me

@kabira manx i think the fact that there are so many screenshots here speaks for itself like... i just simply could not bring myself to pick one !!! i am so lucky to have found you on here. i think in a way you helped me find out what i was good at and what i liked about my own writing before i even figured it out myself <3

@sagescaffeinemania the first one made me laugh and the second one makes me emo. feels like a declaration of love in way but i don't mean that in a weird way LOL i think your support on oasis singlehandedly introduced so many others to that piece, how can i ever thank you for that? and i apologize if i haven't even attempted a thank you yet

@cuppasunu KYU your bulleted comments on my silly long fics always meant so much to me ,, i know its been a very very long time but i hope you've been well

@blossom-hwa lina! best for last some might say. i mean you must know how much that oasis rb meant to me right? because it means the world. i think you calmed every doubt i had about that piece and lifted even higher everything i loved about it too. and the first sc esp, i couldn't have said it all better myself. that scene felt like i risk when i was writing it and im so glad it played out the way i was hoping it to and not the dreadful other way lol | and as for the second screenshot. really i think i love that comment because of how you wrote it more than what you said about the piece if that makes sense. one can tell from that little paragraph alone what a writer(!) you are. i love rereading that comment but i think i mainly just love reading your writing lol (dont think im not making my way through worn out soles)

[themyscirah]

Jess? Or Hal? For the ask game (And if you've done both of them, just pick your favorite super)

I haven't done either yet! I'll do Hal in this post and maybe Jess in another after this

Tw for canonical past suicide for later in the post (skip the story idea section)

First impression:

My real first encounter with him was probably as a guest appearance within Green Lanterns, but the first book I read with him was GL/GA. I don't remember too much of what I thought of him there, it was probably more of a general "oh he seems cool I guess" kind of neutral/positive attitude. By the time I read a Hal comic I'd already met Simon, Jess, and Jo so he wasn't a contender for the spot of my favorite lantern. I never fully finished GL/GA though bc I had the book on loan

Impression now:

Mixed. There are some Hal moments I genuinely do love and like, but tbh he can get on my nerves very easily. Of the Earth lanterns he's either my least or next to least favorite (which doesn't mean I don't like him!) but he's also like the "main character" of GL so I get annoyed when I feel like other GLs are being ignored in favor of Hal.

Favorite moment:

With that said there are sooooooo many Hal moments I just love. He's very much a character made by specific moments for me (rather than a general appreciation of who he is overall). Some Swishy fave contenders include his "Avenge me" internal monologue when he fights Mongul in GL (1990) #46, and OFC the Emerald Twilight arc a few issues later. Also in the very first issue of that book, where he jumps off a cliff in front of some campers (waiting until the last moment before using his ring) was an important moment for me in reading Hal, because it was the first time I went "oh! This guy is crazy!"

Idea for a story:

An exploration of the fact that Hal literally killed himself on panel in GL (2011) #19. Because like what the hell, why did this happen and then NO ONE EVER TALKED ABOUT IT. (This is insane to me). I think I'd probably revisit it in a dream sequence, maaaybe doing a rewrite/reimagining of his Knight Terrors issue (which I have NOT read lol) to kind of address that and talk about his mental state and things that had an impact on that, stuff like his parents, the Guardians, PARALLAX. Basically it'd be Hal and the ghost of Tomar-Re just talking about how he is not okay. A pretty heavy response to a pretty heavy topic.

Unpopular opinion:

I'm going to be so real here like 95% of my Hal opinions are unpopular bc its just me talking about how I think he's overrated. Like we're bros ig but still. Overrated.

Like I LIKE him but I'm annoyed at him like 80% of the time bc DC is always putting out a mid story focusing on him while ignoring my faves WHO ARE SO COOL AND DESERVE STORIES 😤💔😭

I guess one beyond that is I'm not a fan of his friendship with Barry. Maybe this is just because I haven't read anything where they're like... interesting? But I just don't get the hype. ESPECIALLY compared to his relationship with Oliver which is absolutely insane in comparison. Like why are we talking abt Barry rn when OLLIE LITERALLY SHOT HAL AND HAL RESSURECTED OLLIE. like guys. Guys. Are you seeing this shit.

Favorite relationship:

Like ship wise? I'm not a huge Halcarol fan personally but I do think they're kind of the epitome of "you're perfect for each other. Never involve anyone else in what you have going on," kind of messy drama-filled relationship with a lot of history.

I also really like halollie and their relationship but not in like a "they should date" way or anything like that. Like they're bros to me who emotionally have a whole complicated little thing going on like idk

Within the lanterns I think the frenemy whatever thing Guy and Hal do is SO funny. I love especially the beginning of GL (1990) where Guy just in his free time shows up to ruin Hal's life while Hal is just so sick and done and mad about it. Peak comedy, Guy never change

Fave headcanon:

Do I have any headcanons about Hal? Not really. I try to think about him as little as possible (kidding). No um I'd say I don't really have any, and if I did they'd probably be really basic or smth like that he cries watching both Top Gun movies.