#just some new ones before 2024 says see ya later

[justterribledrawings]

[solarsturniolo]

𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰 // 𝔖𝔎𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯!ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔰

©Solarsturniolo 2024

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who only bought kneepads and a helmet after you showed concern for him after a bad tumble. Because, even though he doesn’t care much about his safety, he knows that you do. He’d rather get hit by a car than putting you through the stress again; seeing the way your hands shook as you cleaned up his cuts and the way your eyes watered as you refused to look at him. He decided some safety gear was a good investment.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who holds your hands to keep you steady while you practice on his board. “Easy, you’re thinkin’ too much about it, just imagine your feet are goin’ right through the board into the ground…there ya go-“

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who doesn’t like to sleep alone, so he’ll facetime you or invite you to come ‘hang out’ which will inevitably end in a sleep over. “No I know you slept over last night, and the night before that, and the night before that, but just hear me out-“

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who shares his food with you no matter where you go. He’ll give you shit for it, but you both know he doesn’t care. It almost feels intimate to him, sharing something of his with you and only with you. His brothers will tease him for it later, but all that matters to him is seeing the way your face lights up as he pushes his plate towards you.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who claims your music taste is lame, but will make a playlist of his favorites that you’ll play and listen to it on his late night rides.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who has carved your initials into the underside of his board. He covers it with a sticker, knowing if his brothers found it he’d be cooked. But he hopes that one day he won’t have to hide it anymore.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who is consistently trying to impress you. Whether it’s with a new trick he learned, a photo his brothers took of him, or whatever it ended up being. He feels like he doesn’t have much to offer, so he tries to impress you by being cool.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who can’t sleep on the nights when you’re not available, his thoughts eating away at him as he lies awake in bed. Tossing and turning, groaning as he looks at the alarm clock to see that only ten minutes have passed since the last time he checked. He hates it, he wants you there with him. He felt so empty and alone without you there.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who never forgets a special occasion, no matter how small and insignificant it may seem to others. From birthdays, to holidays, to National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day, Chris remembers every day that is important to you.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who can tease you and mess with you, but would knock anyone else out if they tried doing the same.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who talks about you to his mother so much, she is convinced you’re both married with three children. A boy doesn’t just randomly swoon over a girl for hours to his mother on the phone. “She told me the funniest story the other night when she stayed over-“ “She stayed over again? What is that, four times this week?” “…..anyways, she-“

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who has a raccoon brain and will see something shiny or cute and just has to bring it to you. “A…spoon?” “A tiny spoon! And it has a little pink bow on the end, see!”

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who loves coming over to your house. He swears on his life it’s just because of the atmosphere, but you know it’s because of your pets. He never forgets to greet them upon arrival, and always says (a very lengthy) farewell before he leaves.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who spends six long torturous hours trying to write you a cute note or a poem. His trashcan piled high with drafts that he crumpled and tossed away, because he wanted it to be perfect. You deserved perfect.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who complains when you beg him to let you do his makeup, but secretly loves having you so close to him. The comfortable silence, the brief eye contact, the way you gently dab and brush the different products onto his face. The tightening feeling in his stomach as you lean closer, making sure to be extra gentle around his eyes. He would never admit it in a million years, but part of him wants to ask you to do his makeup every time you come over.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who sends you a fit check every. single. day.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who sends you pictures of the animal friends he makes on the nights he goes out skating with his friends.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who cusses often, except when you invite him over to your place. He tends to watch his language when he’s over, not wanting to ‘influence the children��, in reference to your pets.

Reblog divider by @adornedwithlight

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖘: @flowerxbunnie @megamett44-lover @xtravrgnoliveoil @mattsturnswife @sturniolofan4lifee @oversturn @soursturniolo @sturnioz @luverboychris @meerkatzthings @soupuurr @gemofthenight @sturns-4-life @hi-7-hi @blahbel668 @mattspleasure @sturnybabes @jjmaybankswifes-blog @sturniolosreads @bernardsleftbootycheek @egirlshit @matthemunch44-deactivated202408 @nonamegirlxsturniolo @chrizz333 @sturniolopowers @mattsleftnipple03 @worldlxvlys @hearts4chriss @janiellasblog @creamoncreamoncream2 @meg-sturniolo @ellie-luvsfics @lustfulslxt @braindead4l @ghostlythinggoingaround @taekwite @querenciasturniolo @whicked-hazlatwhore @m4ttslvr @mqttittude @bewtyschooldropout @lovelybrokenheal @h3arts4harry @riowritesitall @freshloveforthefit @esioleren @colorthecosmos444 @mbbsgf @kitkatbar1275

[alatushours]

☆ LOVE POTION, various — he doesn’t know much about love, but he’ll try his best for you.

contents. featuring xiao, dan heng, and roronoa zoro. gender neutral reader, fluff. xiao + zoro is canon au, dan heng’s is modern! your first date with each of the boys ♡ word count. 537

notes. writing the prompt “love potion” for my own event despite it having been closed for a month LMAO i just need an excuse to write something… anyways uh pls pretend i’m not writing xiao when i said i wouldn’t in a while 🫣 i have a wip for tighnari otw i promise !!!

xiao has never been interested in mortal celebrations. but after meeting you, he can’t help but want to learn more about them. “would you… want to come to the lantern rite with me?”

you were pleasantly surprised when he asked; glad to see that the yaksha was finally coming out of his shell. you laughed, took his hand (which prompted a blushing mess out of him), and led him down to the harbor, where the festivities were already starting.

figuring he still wasn’t too comfortable being around large crowds of mortals, you took him to a secluded spot on a hill by the pavilion, close enough so that you could still see the lanterns that lit up the sky.

“they’re beautiful, aren’t they?” you ask him, following his eyes as he stared at tiny glowing dots fading in the night. xiao nods slowly, seemingly mesmerized by the sight. you smile softly, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you watch the fireworks show that followed.

dan heng, being a bit of a bookworm, was a little… socially awkward, to say the least. luckily, you found his quirks entertaining. “there’s a new bookstore that opened across the street… would you be interested?”

so one tuesday afternoon, you meet him by the park, where he stood with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. you giggle when he awkwardly offers them to you. “of course, why else would you have bought them for?”

making you way to the bookstore, dan heng watches as you stroll down the aisles, picking out some you wanted. he felt his heart swell as he spies his favorite novel in your hand. “i didn’t know you liked that book too…”

the two of you end up spending the rest of the afternoon in the cafe next door, chatting about your favorite books over coffee. he smiles, maybe being a geek isn’t a such bad thing after all.

zoro never quite wanted to leave the sunny when the crew docked on a new island; he preferred to stay behind and take a nap, or train. but you always encouraged him to come along, and he finally decided to go along with it. “i’m gonna go explore… if ‘ya wanna come with.”

there happened to be a small crafts market in the town nearby, so you and zoro (mostly just you) went admiring the handicrafts the stalls had on display. "aww, how lovely!" you admire a little clockwork deer that reminded you a bit of chopper.

then you realized you had some business to attend to in town, so you left zoro behind for a few minutes, saying, "don't you dare get lost while i'm gone!" he stands there awkwardly, before glancing back at the crafts stall. while i'm here...

...and then of course you happen to accidentally encounter the marines, causing you to have to run back to the ship with zoro in tow. when you're finally safe in the crow's nest of the sunny, however... he presented you with the mechanical deer toy from earlier, to your joy. "i don't have that many berries but.. i know you wanted it, so i guess i'll just have to pay nami back later."

end notes. i thought i would write a lot for xiao but i ended up writing more for zoro lmao he’s been taking up all of my brain recently but i hope you enjoyed <3

© alatushours 2024. please do not copy, modify, or translate my work in any way, nor upload to any other platforms. in the meantime, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and consider leaving a follow! it helps a lot ♡

[imaginesbymonika]

From the dining table |Almost-Finale

Pairing: Damon Albarn × Gallagher! Reader

Plot: Everyone's favorite topic during the '90s and 'OOs; Y/N Gallagher. The mysterious and beautiful younger sister of the two loud brothers rarely spoke during interviews but played the guitar like no one else. And even though she never said a word about her dating-life, the list of her rumored boyfriends kept growing longer with each passing year. Yet, there was one name in particular that just kept on popping up...

Previous part | Masterlist

(2024)

“To be fair my first reaction, when I heard that you agreed to come on here was “there is no way”. Because I personally think it’s a very bold move to have you as the new Oasis’ spokesperson- you know, considering how little you used to talk during interviews.”, Seth Meyers explains, which makes both Y/N and the audience chuckle.

“Yeah, can’t blame ya’.”, the woman in front of him says:” But well, the spotlight has always been on my brothers and their relationship… especially because of their falling out. Which, by the way, was very real. Just wanted to put that out there. Because I have seen those interviews where people assume that behind the scenes everything was sorta alright.” “It wasn’t?”

Y/N shakes her head:” Not at all. They both truly didn’t speak to one another for over a decade. Not a single word. They understand very well, that the second they’re getting interviewed it’s going to the brought up: those nasty comments, the fights… they finally just started to get along again, why risk any of that. It’s so fragile.”

Seth scans her features for a moment before leaning back in his chair:” I guess you’re right. But, you know… you’re fascinating on your own. So I am more than happy to have just you on this show. How come you never spoke during interviews-?” He raises his hand and begins counting his fingers:” Or concerts, award shows, red carpets…”

“One thing about my brothers, in case you haven’t noticed yet-.”, she shortly faces the audience before once again looking at Seth:” They love to talk. A lot. I didn’t. So I figured, that I might as well just don’t. And to be fair, neither one of them cared much about it, did they?”

“The whole thing turned you into quite the enigma.”

“Loved it.”, Y/N exclaims while taking a sip of her water: “And in the beginning I sorta just wanted to see how people would react to this whole “me being silent”- act. But they were obsessed with it.”

“You never spoke and threw some of the best Hollywood parties of the ’90s and 2000s.” The statement makes Y/N merely roll her eyes:” Please. Those celebrities just came around because there was always cocaine at my place.” At that audience members gasp which only makes her laugh in return:” Whoops, I’m sorry. God. I thought that was general knowledge.”

Y/N faces Seth again:” My two brothers did it. I did it; plus everyone’s favorite celebrity did it.” She takes a sip of her water while Seth clears his throat, which makes a few people laugh:” Speaking of your beloved brothers- one in particular. Liam. He really loves being on the internet, doesn’t he?”

”He’s a man of the people.”

Seth once again giggles before reaching under his wooden table:“ And a couple of days ago, he posted something on X that kind of made everyone go crazy. But then he suddenly deleted it again. Only to tweet this a few moments later...“ He flips one of the cards around showing a tweet that goes “Brothers n sisters y/n made me delete me tweet cmon i am a grown man with me own thoughts and im getting supervised like a little boy HER ATTITUDE STINKS”.

The audience laughs while the woman only shrugs: “To be fair I do have his notifications on in case things like that happen.”

“Well.”, Seth says in between giggles and flips a second card around:” This is the tweet he deleted: “Liam’s karma is that Gene looks like a young Damon Albarn”.” Underneath that tweet are two pictures attached: one showing Liam’s son Gene next to a young Damon Albarn. Y/N looks at them both and laughs:” Jesus.”

“And Liam’s reply was…”, he flips yet another card around:” “No me karma is that he’s now sitting with us at the dinner table”. Y/N reaches for her drink while a small smile makes its way on her face.

“Is Liam talking about his own son or is he talking about Damon from Blur?” “Well, guess.”, she answers, now fully grinning at the host. A couple of audience members audibly gasp at her response, to which she simply laughs.

Seth leans forward:” Are you telling me right now that you are dating Damon Albarn?” The woman in front of him stares at him for a few moments before nodding her head. You could hear a needle drop. “Jesus.”, Y/N mutters:” It’s not like we haven’t dated before.”

“I beg your pardon?”, Seth’s eyes widen and his jaw drops. “Yeah, back in the ‘90s.” “During the time your band had this huge feud with Blur?”

“I do admit the timing was unbelievably shite.”

Seth leans back in his chair again and crosses his arms in front of his chest:” I cannot believe this. Truly.” She laughs at his reaction:” Well, it’s true. I don’t know what else to tell you.“

“And your brothers didn’t know about it?”, Seth asks tilting his head slightly:” They had no clue at all? I find that hard to believe.” A soft sigh leaves his guests lips:” I think maybe they had their suspicions, I’m their sister after all. But there just wasn’t enough evidence. I remember that one night-.”

(1996)

“I know for a fact you’re seeing someone.”, Liam unexpectedly says, making Y/N flinch. “What the fuck, Liam.”, she hisses, while looking down at her once white shirt, that’s now covered in red wine stains:” That was fucking expensive.”

Her brother merely rolls his eyes. Noel who’s sitting with his back turned to his two siblings puts his cigarette out. “Who is it?”, Liam asks. “What are you even on about? God, you’re so annoying!”, Y/N stands up and makes her way towards the small bathroom of their tour bus. “I know you’re seeing someone. It’s written all over ya stupid face, I-.”

“Hey!”, Noel cuts him off and turns around, he raises his finger:” Don’t talk to her like that. Be nice, for fucks sake.” Y/N who’s trying her absolute best to remove the big stains softly smiles to herself. “Whatever. I know you’re seeing someone, and I’ll find out who it is.”

“What if it’s Albarn?”, Bonehead asks, while mindlessly flipping through a Playboy magazine. Y/N swallows thickly. “Now don’t be ridiculous. Our sister has too much backbone for that, right?”, Noel says, sounding more than offended.

“Yeah.”, Y/N exclaims while keeping her head low:” Oh absolutely. You’ve never seen anyone with that much backbone…”

(2024)

“They would’ve thrown you out of the band.”

Y/N makes a face:” Liam might still throw me out.” It’s followed by a laughter:”He truly isn’t happy about it. But I’m his baby sister, so he’ll be alright. He has never been able to stay mad at me for long.”

“Y/N from Oasis is dating Damon from Blue.”, Seth mutters and shakes his head before turning to the audience:” If you haven’t been around in the ‘90’s you won’t understand how big of a deal that is.” He turns to face Y/N again:” How serious is it?”

“Oh very.”, she replies:” I’ve met his daughter, a week after we started seeing one another again. She’s lovely. I re-introduced him to my brothers a week after that. We-.“

“How did they react?”

“Guess.”

[me-saw-hoo-dini]

Okay so some background info on why I made this account to begin with. I started watching the Banana Bus Squad/Vanoss Crew back in 2012 when they were playing Black Ops 2 and then I stopped watching them sometime in 2018 because I had simply lost interest. I still kept up with them when I would hear things (drama, allegations, relationships, children, etc) and then I actually started watching them again in 2023.

I blame Nogla for this because I stg he literally did start all of this (unless I dreamt it. If so I blame dream Nogla CUZ IT WAS SOME NOGLA) but back when I was first watching them there was some early GTA 5 video (IF ANYONE CAN FIND AND LINK ME THIS VIDEO with timestamp if you would be so kind I WILL LITERALLY BE FOREVER GRATEFUL) and Vanoss and Delirious were doing something stupid. From what I remember they were in a yellow industrial vehicle like a cherry picker basket and they were like falling over each other and laughing and in the background you can hear nogla repeatedly calling them gay. Not too long after that Nogla made that fucking “New YouTube Couple: H2OVanoss” skit (https://youtu.be/bT_tq_Xkg34?feature=shared) and I really started thinking about it and ya! Noglas right! These mfers are gay (not fr I’ll get into it at the end)! Anyways that delved into me “pairing” them up with each other and reading fanfics (H2OVanoss, Terrorsnuckel, DathiDeCalibre, and MiniCat. I no longer ship MiniCat ofc cuz MiniLadd can rot in hell and honestly DathiDeCalibre is alright but just kind of fell off for me after lui’s accusations and the 12 years it took for me to find out if they were true or false) I had an account on instagram where I would post about bbs/vc and I made friends with people who also watched them AND also shipped them. Eventually we all grew apart and then like a year after that I stopped watching bbs/vanoss crew.

In March of 2023 I had stopped watching another group of YouTubers I had been watching since 2020 when a Vanoss video was recommended to me. I watched it cuz “holy shit how are these guys doing?” And they were still hilarious like I remembered them to be and I’ve been watching them again since. That also means that I’m back into “haha silly ship” but I thought that the shipping side of this fandom had died cuz if I did see any fanart or fanfics they were from 2015-2020 but then Vanoss uploads his 2024 Christmas GTA 5 video (https://youtu.be/O5QusxUHZ6k?feature=shared) and BAM H2OVanoss moment, the comment section starts freaking out, and I check ao3 later to see if anyone is fast to write a fanfic and my god y’all ARE still writing fanfics! I didn’t see one last night about that video BUT YALL ARE STILL AROUND?? Not only that but one of the fic authors (I didn’t even read it yet I just really like the description and disclaimer) has a tumblr account (WHERE THEY ALSO POST FANART AND VIDEOS) and YOU GUYS ARE ALIVE IVE BEEN LOOKING EVERYWHERE FOR YALL BUT IN THE WRONG PLACES

IVE MISSED BEING HERE I AM SO BACK BABEYYY HIIIII

——————————————————————————

I just wanna clarify the basics before I go since this post and account is mainly going to be about shipping and even tho I’m crazy I’m not THAT crazy. It goes for all irl ships but I’ll mainly be talking about it as if it’s just bbs/vc

1) People ship different things and as long as it’s legal and or isn’t against someone involved’s boundaries idgaf what you ship. There are totally ships that I hate/don’t like of course but I know to avoid them/keep scrolling without saying anything.

2) If the people I ship together are in their own relationships irl I can not stress to you enough how happy I am for them. I love literally everyone’s irl partners like if they’re happy I’m pretty much overjoyed! I LOVE LOVE! If it makes sense to ship a literal irl relationship I do. I cried at Wildcat and Kelly’s wedding photos because I was/am so happy for them and I need Terroriser and Lanai to get married NEOOOOWW!!! (No actual pressure). Even with Delirious and Liz I, once again and even tho I wasn’t even watching him at the time, cried when Delirious announce they were going to have a kid; BOTH TIMES because I was/am so excited and happy for them and even tho they aren’t together anymore I still wish Liz nothing but the best and hope she is doing well. I am never gonna be one of those weirdos going “their irl partner is in the way of my ship” or “how dare you break whoever’s heart” cuz wtf is wrong with you that fucking WEIRD?? These are irl people and they’re happy and I’m not one of those freaks getting reality and fiction confused. And course break ups suck ya but that’s not anyone’s business to make their own; that’s between the people who were in the relationship!

3) If ever any of these guys come out and say they are uncomfortable being shipped, having shipping fanart of them, or any anything specific they do not like I will stop. Once again I’m not going to get reality and and fiction confused

4) I AM going to make some batshit parasocial (if I’m using that word correctly) posts like “I truly do believe that Vanoss does have a soft spot for Delirious” or like “Vanoss’s best friend (in the group) is probably either Lui, Terroriser, or Delirious” or stuff along those lines were I’m doing like a deep dive analysis and even tho YES I believe that I don’t really mean anything by it? I am DELUSIONAL and I like playing with and organizing my delusions. It’s more of probably going to be something that explains why I ship something like the first example I gave. It’s never gonna be like drama starting like “I believe the reason so and so and so and so don’t do this anymore is because so and so did this and-“ like nah nothing like that. I may or may not have discussions with people about things maybe but I’m never going to make a random ass “call out post” unless there’s legitimately a serious problem ya know. If you ever see a deep dive know it’s all for the sillies and that I know that I’m being delusional and reading too much into things that aren’t there (“struck by a flying ice cream truck— AND LIVE” head ass)

[animusiem]

Mayonaka Punch Broke Me In Pieces

Summer 2024 for anime has been slow for me since all the anime I'm anticipating are still long way to go. But, one anime stood out from the rest and it's Mayonaka Punch. An original anime from the director of Ya Boy Kongming tells a story about a cancelled YouTuber (oh sorry NewTuber) making a new channel with vampires with her goal of reaching a million subs. With this being an original anime, I wasn't expecting much apart to see maybe vampire thirsting over girls. We do get that and so far it has been a blast.

What I did not expect is to be crying and having an existential dread over the loss of somebody. Episode 1-3 is the selling hook of the anime where you can see the dynamic between Masaki and the vampires. We see that the vampires here are different than most vampires in media like getting high off of garlic or still can go outside if it's overcast. But this week's episode...I'm floored by this because not only again took the vampire character into creative territory, but also what happened when vampire befriended or even have a bond with a human.

Episode 4 is about Masaki trying to diversify the channel's content by asking her vampires colleague of their interest. Fu didn't fill in the form even before she works at an Onsen. So Masaki entered the room and found a boom box with a cassette tape still in them. After she found out about Fu's singing skills, Masaki and Live decided that they want Fu to do song cover. Fu rejected that idea and that led to the whole gang to find the reason why.

I still can't believe this anime really just dropping one of the most heartbreaking story in anime this season or even the year. The way that the story handled grief and how as a vampire, you just accept it that if you have some sort of attachment towards a human that it won't last long for you. This philosophical question is actually has been explored before with Adventure Time being the animation parallel. But, what it reminded me of (and because the song they played is like singer songwriter type) is Jason Isbell's "If We Were Vampire" which talking about old relationship that one has to die before the other and you have to overcome those grief. Using vampire as something that they wish they are but would the relationship still the same as it was if you're mortal. One lyric that caught me after relistening to it again is "Maybe time running out was a gift". There's no other way to say but part of relationship that you need to face is your own mortality and how it affected you and your partner. Maybe if one of us becoming a vampire or just not telling your human partner that you're one, and then one day you just disappear because they can't bear the disappointment or even being scared of turned away. Then you found out years later that it might be too late for you as a vampire to just relive that moment and what could have been. But in the end life keep going on as you will remember them to infinity.

I just wanna basically let out my thoughts here because as someone who's not even in her thirties yet, the thought of my mortality is already creeping in and I think this show is what I need right now to just let that feeling out. And I can't believe it came from the anime that an episode ago, is having a garlic mukbang. So yeah I highly recommend this anime.

[nikatyler]

🌈 2023 ✨

Another year is over so it's time for a look back at what was happening on this blog! I haven't really been around, it was just my queue, and maybe that's one reason why I looked at my archive and went "huh" at everything. I don't remember much. The other reason why this year probably went poof in my head is because I was dealing with some mental health stuff lol. I say lol but it wasn't actually very lol but I'm doing better now and 2024...is looking promising for now.

So, let's talk more under the cut, shall we?

January

We're in Bridgeport and Sawyer is living his best life. You know, girlfriends, boyfriends, being turned into a vampire, giving birth to three little vampires, threatening to sell his enemies' organs on the black market...best life indeed.

February

Okay I am now seeing that "talking more" about every month will be impossible since I actually don't have much recollection of 2023 lmao

March

Sawyer and Erin are at the best point of their relationship, but we left them alone for a bit and went back to NSB. Pastel just moved to Strangerville and got a...rather strange roommate.

April

The rather strange roommate becomes Pastel's rather strange wife. I love these two so much. We also say hello to Moss -- and also to Ross, who returns from...god knows where. I mean yeah, there was the ts3 Ross, but technically they're two different people. Parallel universes and stuff.

May

Thea is born and strange wife Jesse gets even stranger. That whole "merging with the mother plant" thing was kinda weird but I really enjoyed it. Idk what I was on but it was fun. And then, before returning to the lepacy, I posted my Cottage Living screenshots! ...which were really just me going "uwu what does this do" on every possible Wicked Whims option.

June

...and I went from posting weird WW Ross stuff to posting wholesome Growing Together Ross stuff. If that gave you a whiplash, I am sorry, but imagine what it must be like for me. I'm locked with this guy in my head 24/7. He's the whiplash king. A blorbo to you, a curse to me. A beloved curse tho. Ok I'm getting weird. Back to the lepacy.

July

Lepacy time! Loved the soap opera Generations gen. Kinda wish I had sticked to some of the storylines instead of going "eh nvm I just wanna play". I'm not saying I regret not actually letting Saywer go on a killing spree but also...imagine if he went on a killing spree. You don't see that in lepacies often do ya

August

August was...welp 💀 I was at the grippy socks hospital for most of that month, 10/10 would recommend, but my queue ran out while I was there so I just reblogged some old stuff for a few weeks.

September

September is just lepacy month. Cornelia and Archer are happy, they get married, they get more children...yeah. Good wholesome Generations times all around. It's not like they're gonna get divorced later or anything.

October

The twins are kind of chaotic, one of them turns into a ghost, both then bring their cursed imaginary friends to life...and the final child of Archer and Cornelia is born.

November

I loved running into Sawyer at the grocery store all the time. Weird vampire alleged killer grandpa behavior suits him. Dorothea goes away to a boarding school, hates it there and instantly comes back. Relatable. Oh and midlife crisis hits Archer hard.

December

And we're in December! Dorothea enters her horsegirl era and finds herself a girlfriend...and we'll continue that in 2024!

What's in store for the new year besides the lepacy? Well, Not So Berry will be making a return (and HOPEFULLY we'll finally get to the end. we need to). There's a story I want to do in the NSB universe, if you know you know. Before we dive into the next lepacy generation, I'm thinking of another BC with the gen 7 heir...oh and Marika's Black Widow. Shoot and I'm starting an irl job in January. Yeah no we're not doing all this in 2024, don't count on it 💀 But I'll try.

Happy New Year! 🎇

[mythicalcowboyatheart]

Ficmas 2024 Day one

Friends to lovers w/ Johnathan Crane

John never thought he would ever find someone comparable to himself- in the platonic or romantic way.

But here you were, in front of him again– Years and years later, in Arkham. You enchanted him for the first time in college, but at the time, he was a moral psychology student; and now he isn’t. Now, he was Scarecrow, and here you were, as his brand new roommate, sat on his brand new bed.

“Is it really you, darlin’?” "Johnny! How are you old friend?" You smile up at him

He smiled, almost in awe, as he approached. His prison uniform looked quite tight on him now, given his lean figure. “I’m doin’ well, much better now.”

He sat on the edge of his bed, across from you, eyes on the small space between you two.

“How have you been?” "obviously not the best Jon" you giggle "better now your here it's nice to have a friend in this place" The corners of his mouth crept up into a smile as he chuckled.“It sure is a small world”

He crossed one leg over the other, still gazing at the space between you both.

“So what’re you in for?” "I should be asking you that doc" you smile widely "but...Ive seen the news so I know about that." He smirked, knowing the news loved to cover his stories, or the Batman’s side of the stories.

“Well I guess you already know the story then…how about yours?”"Guess!" You smirk. He raised a brow with a smile, intrigued. After a moment of thought, he began to guess. “Arson?” "ding ding ding! It was arson! I've always had that special place for pyrotechnics" “Oh really now?” He smirked, leaning back on his hands.“And tell me darlin’, what’d you burn?” "well let's just say a certain green wearing Gotham villain don't got there hide out any more...." “No way…” Jonathan looked surprised for a moment, but the more he imagined this act, the more impressed he became.“You burned the Riddlers place?” "among other things" you smile wider. Crane chuckled, leaning back on his bed with one arm, looking at you, impressed. “My, my, my. You’ve been busy then darlin’.” "what can I say I've always had a flare for the dramatics" “Oh I remember...”

He spoke softly, a small smile on his face. His eyes roamed over your features for a moment before returning to your gaze. “You always loved attention…” "imma take that as a compliment" you smile back “It’s always been a compliment, darlin’.” His gaze didn’t break from your eyes, studying you for a moment. He then looked down, admiring your lips for a moment before glancing back up to your eyes. “It’s… good to see you again. Even if it’s in Arkham.” He gave a lighthearted chuckle, adjusting his footing on the bed a bit. "ya it's nice seeing you after all this time" “I’ve thought of you every now and then…”

He paused, looking down at his hands.

“You’re just as beautiful as I remember. Just as charming too…” "and it seems you've gone bad since we last saw each other, I kinda like it," you wink. “Oh yeah? You like bad, darlin’?” His voice took on a slight edge, a smirk taking up his face. He leaned forward closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "I like smart and bad boys Jon you should know this by now" you giggle. He gives a light chuckle, his eyes sparkling as they looked over your features.“I do, and boy am I… both.” He gives a smirk, moving a bit closer now, almost knee to knee with you. "the best of both worlds babe" you wink with a smirk.

He chuckled again, now just inches from you. He could practically feel your breath on his face, if you still had some.“You and I both know I was a sucker for your flattery.” He reached up with one hand and put it gently on your cheek, his head cocking to the side a bit as he admired your features. He ran his slender fingers to your jawline and under your chin. His gaze darted over every inch of your face, still taking it in. you kiss the tip of your nose "your so pretty Johnny" He chuckled slightly, his cheek flushing a bit from the compliment and the act.

“And you’re just as beautiful as the day I first laid eyes on you.” He paused, his hand still on your face. For a split second, his gaze dipped down to your lips, before returning to your eyes. "Johnny you know how I made you watch all those super sappy rom-com movies with me?" He chuckled, rolling his eyes a bit in playfulness. “Oh I remember… and I’m gonna guess you’re going all sappy on me now?” you roll my eyes

"do you want to kiss me or not cuz now would be that time in one of those movies" you chuckle slightly. Johnathan chuckled as well, looking down, still with his hand on your cheek. A moment of hesitation before his gaze returned to yours. “If I did, how many ‘romance movie rules’ would I be breaking?” you sigh cupping his cheeks with my hand.

"OMG kiss me you nerd" I pull you in for a passionate kiss, He chuckled softly into the kiss, wrapping his other arm around you pulling you closer.

[implausiblyjosh]

Today is the final day of Chost. I made one last post on there, in reply to this one. I'll post it here, too.

This site was good for some, bad for others. Some people found their people here, other people got run off the site for linking to official feature request pages too often. If I'm being a bit more cynical, cohost feels a lot like the dril drunk driving tweet. If I'm feeling more charitable, cohost had a lot of cool people here that I'm happy to follow and signup on new sites with and I don't know that I'd have that opportunity without Cohost.

I have good memories of my time here, I have bad memories of my time here, and I have funny memories of my time here.

I'll remember one Cathode Ray Dude reposting my post about the weird message boards I used to be on where you'd organize with other users to post on their forums. Coming back onto the site and seeing one of my favorite YouTubers in my notifications, with tons of funny pictures and posts and comments. Probably the only time I ever "did numbers" on here, and really I just helped Cathode Ray Dude "do numbers".

I'll remember seeing my posts referenced in comments derisively. Some people would reference them outright, like someone basically quoting my "Moralizing Annoyance" post to someone else. Someone tried to honestly say that I was genuinely upset that I was the only one in the WWE 2K23 tag, when I very clearly was joking about that stuff while being serious about how cohost handled discussions of the "white tech" culture here.

I'll remember how baffling it was to see someone act like reading "cohost could be more diverse if there were more people talking about sports or reality tv in the same effort posting styles that white tech culture topics get" meant that they, personally, were being told they weren't "marketable" enough.

I hope that I see more things come out of cohost's ashes. I'm excited to see what gets created, and what ideas people take from here into new places. Hell, I'm already seeing people talk about the Following page on Bluesky and how good that post viewing option is!

Just remember, if you are making something from this moment, from these ashes, to compare your project fairly. While there was some sentiment of "i'd love to see you do better" from some members of staff, please keep in mind that staff had a wealthy friend willing to piss away 100s of thousands of dollars a year for a few years. It's a team that is trying to convince people a May 2024 Stripe update killed eggbux when the policy existed months before that update at least. Whatever you make, whatever you create, be sure to keep in mind the resources they had and what they delivered with those resources and compare that to your own resources and project output.

I hope you all find cool new places to post. I've been signing up for a lot more places now, and following a lot more people off of here, so I hope to see you all again soon. My stuff is pinned, y'all will know where to find me.

See ya later.

RIP Cohost

Cohost is shutting down because... well, of course it is. Cohost shutting down is the most "writing on the wall" shit for the last several months. The wealthy friend/funder ghosted them at one point in the last 12 months. Despite Anti-Software Software Club saying they were a "not-for-profit software company", they were just a regular LLC paying themselves near 100k/yr for their four FTEs. When they got new funding, after being ghosted, a stipulation of that funding was for them to be consistent in posting public financial updates, which they missed almost immediately. I cannot believe it lasted this long.

That they're still saying that "eggbux", the tipping and support features, fell through because of Stripe policy changes, something that seemingly did not happen, is wild. Can't even be honest at the end. Like... Cohost's early ideas started as a Patreon alternative. They've been working on "eggbux" as a concept basically since inception of Cohost. But up until the last year they were still working on this idea of being this Patreon/Ko-fi alternative without understanding the policy of Stripe and how that would work. I don't think it can be stressed enough how weird cohost's framing of the Stripe Policy Issue is. Nothing meaningfully changed about Stripe policy, ASSC just thought they could be Patreon/Ko-fi on a whim and then realized that's not how it works and had to stop dev on that.

Also, there was always this undercurrent of "Uber reinvents cabs and busses" to the whole thing. The Artist's Alley thing was just Project Wonderful, but was being pushed as a wild new thing for user-supported ads. And, like Uber, it was a pretty rough implementation of a thing that already exists because you had to click to a specific area that was just ads!

As much as I had enjoyable moments on cohost, I think it's silly to paint the site as anything it wasn't. I mean, one of the last big culture issues on the site was staff refusing to delete racist comments on a staff post until publicly shamed for their cowardice! Cohost was clearly not good for everyone who posted there. Someone got ran off the site for linking to cohost's official feature requests forum too often to ask for accessibility features, and popular people on cohost waxed poetic about how deserved it was that the person got ran off the site for being annoying. There were near-constant issues with racism not being handled well at all from a culture perspective, especially when people would criticize how white the culture of the site was. Hell, I saw someone be extremely bigoted on bluesky, then run to cohost for sympathy and get it. Even when people pointed out how bigoted they were on bluesky, with screenshots and everything, they justified it and had loads of defenders helping justify the bigotry!

I think teeing cohost up as some sort of "good sites can never exist unless it's corporate sludge" point also doesn't make sense since the site never had a plan for profitability. You can't be funded by a wealthy friend forever. There never seemed to be a plan, which is fine for a hobby but not fine when you're begging for cohost plus subs every month or so to fund your near-100k salaries. It never made sense in the long term, their own reports said so, and people were shouted down for pointing these things out.

No webbed site is perfect, and that includes cohost. It had issues up until the very end. It does no one any good to ignore the bad or pretend it was perfect, regardless of how much the site was good for you personally.

Sucks that a lot of cool people put their eggs in that posting basket, and I hope they find a different place that scratches similar itches.

[skinni-girls-eat-books]

Monday, January 1st, 2024!

10:29am We are alive mf's!!! We made it to the new year!

Currently having my semi-annual financial hoopla but things will work themselves out 😇

January goals: not spending money basically.

- don't get so drunk, it is not fun anymore!

- stop buying food/ drinks out! Too much $

- look for free activities

- free hobbies

- be mindful of what you're doing! And not doing!

- wake up earlier and go to bed earlier! (Gradual)

1:01pm I have already caved and have gotten PDQ 🤣 it's all good I'm straight chilling ❤️ Stay positive y'all. Watching A Historia Delas on Hulu, looks pretty good!

3:45pm Ok so PDQ has made me completely lethargic, the salt has made me totally bloated AF like I feel it in my belly and my feet and hands. I want to work on increasing my energy levels this year and omg this was not the right thing to do. I'm so bloated I'm too uncomfortable to nap even. This show is very good though thank god bc I'm clearly not doing much else today.

Also, one of my wall adjacent neighbors has been playing freaking dubstep or something for like 2 hrs straight and I just realized it's making my brain feel weird/ fuzzy but I couldn't identify why tf I felt that way before. There's so much damn noise in the world it's no wonder everyone is losing their mind/ irritable and slightly annoyed all the time.

8:04pm I did my nails! Also binge watching this show was a very good decision, the best I've made all day 🤣 Tried eating some cheese and it's too much!! My body is just rejecting all of this rich af holiday food and I should really clean out the fridge tomorrow and start fresh. I know it's a waste but idc I don't want to keep feeling like crap and I hate expired food. It's not my fault I went on vacation for like 10 days and all this was too much. I'm still not used to buying/ cooking food for one person. I need to stop buying gallons of milk ffs! It's way too much I had to have like 4 cups last night bc it was expiring today. This is just all part of being mindful, everything is a learning process! You are ok and you are doing great! ❤️

Also, learning more and more about how abusive my relationship is and I'm so glad the internet exists because it would have been so easy to just *not* be aware of this experience that i unfortunately share with many people!! Narcissistic abuse is real and I am ready to keep healing!! Can't fool me twice.

I loved talking to his grandmother though, she is so wise and sweet and I love that she really doesn't play his BS and can see through it, amen!!! I can't believe she said what I thought she would say.... She wants them to move out together so that they'll break up already!!!! That shit is crazy she really said that!!! I may be young but I am not stupid and I saw that shit coming from MILES away literally.

9:41pm He keeps randomly texting me and tbh at this point it's so crystal clear what he's doing and it's pathetic. Simply I have no admiration for him, no respect above human decency really, it's just pathetic is the only word for it. He clearly needs psychological help, and I'm not a psychologist! Also, don't you have a gf to text who literally hates me? Get it together, bro, you're not fooling anyone (except her?? Poor girl tbh she's really getting her payback/ karma in spades I'm sure) thanks universe :) love ya.

PS why does he keep bringing up the music thing?? Does he have no other lines I don't really get it. What tf am I supposed to do about that anyway. I listen to all of his music and my music just fine (oh wait it's because I took time to heal and didn't jump into another toxic relationship 7 days later!!) Get a grip, dude, you're not getting anyone's sympathy here.

Made a to do list for tomorrow so we'll see how that goes! Also I'm sleeping naked so we're trying lots of new things!

[shadowlineswriting]

Adeyemi

When Tomi Adeyemi's debut novel, Children of Blood and Bone, first came out, it made a lot of waves. It seemed like everyone was talking about it for a while. The reviews were insane, too! Entertainment Weekly declared that Tomi Adeyemi is the next J.K. Rowling, for instance.

Obviously, I had to see for myself.

Children of Blood and Bone is the first in what I think is intended to be a trilogy. Right now, only the first two books are out (the second novel is called Children of Virtue and Vengence) and those are the two I read prior to reviewing the story here. The third is slated to come out in 2024.

The story combines West African mythologies with a standard YA tale about oppression. It's a very "rise-up-against-the-monarchy" thing.

I had mixed emotions about the book. I did appreciate Adeyemi's celebration of West African culture, because she did a fantastic job of keeping that incorporated into all aspects of the story. It wasn't something she casually mentioned once and then randomly brought up again later. I struggled a little bit with her writing style, because she's fond of using the same adjectives over and over and she used different languages as part of the tale. That's fine, but doing it right out of the gate when I didn't understand the different types of characters yet made the exposition very confusing to me. I finally figured it out, and then it was easy to follow, but it took more effort than I expected. That's just a complaint because I was lazy, though.

The second book was a tough read for me. There wasn't anything wrong with it, but the story didn't feel engaging enough for me to keep going. I decided not to read the third one because of this.

The real thing that lost me, though, was reading the author's note at the end of the first book. Hear me out before you crucify me: Adeyemi talked about how the story is allegorical about police brutality and how Black people need to "rise" against this.

Similar to my views on feminism, let me just say that yes, there are some absolute scumbag policemen and policewomen out there. No denying. All you have to do is watch the news to understand that. But that doesn't mean that all policemen and policewomen are evil or brutal. It doesn't mean anyone should "rise" against the police.

My issue is when we start to stereotype in these situations. Yes, men are awful to women, but it doesn't mean women are owed control over men. Women are awful to men, too. For me, this is the same. Yes, there are evil police. But there are also evil Black people, and White people, and Asian people, and Europeans, etc. It's a two-way street, and it will always be a two-way street.

So, do I think police brutality is unacceptable? Yes. Do I think that means an entire group of people has to suppress the police? No. As such, it was hard for me to get behind this story, and that's the main reason I'm not going to finish the series.

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Eight

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 8 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: abusive parental relationship; extreme canon violence (gun violence, hand-to-hand, baton use, knives); strong language; mentions of drug smuggling, drugs, and human smuggling; mentions of blood and blood loss; major/minor character death (not the mains, don’t worry!); angst; gunshot wounds; heavy alcohol consumption

Word Count: 14,600+

A/N: Listen... you know damn well I had to put some American Pie lyrics in this. The reader’s and Jackeline’s relationship is not modeled after Nat and Yelena lol it was literally the biggest coincidence. 

~

MedBay - The New Compound, 2024, 1:52 pm     

     “He did what?”     

Bruce smiles sheepishly as he lugs Steve’s practically lifeless body onto one of those beige medical beds. Dr. Cho is pacing calmly around the room, getting her instruments cleaned and ready. She tries to ignore the way you’re crowding her, inspecting everything she touches and in turn is going to end up touching Steve.      

“He took a bullet for someone.”     

“And where is that someone?” you bite. You immediately want to apologize to Bruce for your tone but you’re distracted by the tiny groans of pain coming from the pale super soldier beside you. You have to look away to avoid whimpering yourself, but you can’t exactly make yourself deaf. “Don’t tell me he took a bullet for you.”     

Bruce rolls his eyes and steps to the side as Dr. Cho begins cutting away Steve’s pants. “Everyone else is on vacation. He has no one here to take a bullet for besides. It was a shitty liquor store robbery and Steve was, of course, being a hero.”      

“Where’s he hit?” you ask, heading over to grab a pair of gloves yourself. No one questions it.      

“Femoral artery. Seems like he was plugging his own wound until he could get help.”     

Dr. Cho is right. There’s a massive gash in his thigh that’s leaking excessively and the skin surrounding the wound is raised like Steve’s own fingers had plunged so deeply it left an imprint. Not only that, but his hand is covered in his blood. So is Bruce’s, you realize, because he had tried to plug the artery as well.      

“How is he not dead yet?” Dr. Cho more mutters to herself than to you guys. Steve’s head is lolling to the side and his lips are an awful shade of white. His eyes are fluttering open and closed… open… closed… and he’s still mumbling random phrases. There’s a rough tug at the bottom of your stomach that pulls and pulls and there’s a weird urge to crawl onto the table to keep Steve warm.      

“He needs blood,” you say, even though all parties in the room know that as fact.     

Bruce, however, winces. “Sam’s not even in the state right now and I don’t think we have enough time to fly him-”    

“Is he Sam’s blood type? What’s his blood type? Why can’t Bucky do it? Bucky’s in Brooklyn, he can be here in five minutes if he runs.”    

Bruce starts rummaging through the upper level shelves and freezer cabinets. “Can’t mix the serums. We’ve tried.” He finally finds the blood bags, pulling them all out and spreading them across the clean tables. “It’s - shit - do we not have?”     

Dr. Cho is now covered in blood, working as fast as she can to close the wound. “What’s his blood type?”    

Bruce repeats it out loud and watches as Dr. Cho’s face falls. “I ran out yesterday. The blood drive isn’t until this weekend. I had a patient come in yesterday, I - I ran out yesterday.”     

They seem to be having their own conversation with their eyes and are too focused on each other to see you already stripping your long-sleeve shirt and wrapping that horrible blue rubber band around your upper arm. “Me. Take mine.”    

Bruce immediately shakes his head, stuttering as he tries to remove the rubber band. “Nu-uh, I don’t know if you know this but you’re human. I need two bags, three tops. I can’t just take it all from you right now!”    

“Then get me some cookies and a juice box. I don’t care how much you have to take to make him speak a coherent sentence. Do me.”    

Bruce hesitates but he rushes to the cabinets for the needles, vials, tubes, whatever - “No, do it direct.”     

Your words startle the two doctors but they don’t question it. They hook you up and poke the needle in the first vein they find, attaching the tube instead of a single vial and direct it to Steve.      

“You sure your blood matches?”     

You give Bruce a pointed look as if that isn’t something written on your dog tags or on your weekly personal reports.      

In the end, you’re told that you gave him the equivalent of two pints of blood. Not that you were awake for the second anyway but you vaguely remember Steve’s voice ringing in your ears. You’re not awake as he regains consciousness or to witness his very confused glare at seeing you in the bed next to him.     

He swears he heard small mumblings… ‘If you die because of some highway robbery, Rogers --- I’m never gonna fucking stop bullying your grave --- haunt it’.... ‘Stay --- with me, please’.... ‘---supposed to apologize first’....   

He tests the waters, mumbling a name he only says with annoyance nowadays. But now, it’s gently said. Soft, a whisper that sounds like a fractured hymn. 

Present Day, 2025, 12:05 pm

     There isn’t a set emotion in the world that seems appropriate. What are people supposed to feel when they’re singled out and chosen to suffer a life of pain? Self-hate? Pity for themselves? Anger? Sadness? Remorse? Nothing?

You really don’t know what you’re feeling. In the middle of rubbing vaseline on your newly acquired cuts and scrapes and bandaging yourself up, biting on a belt as Bucky set your shoulder back in place, and lying with Steve discussing everything and nothing all night after your promise - well, what the hell are you supposed to feel? As inevitable as it was considering he had ordered you shot before, the one feeling you know you feel is betrayed. Because even though Ernesto has proven himself evil time and time again, to his own flesh and blood, there was still a small part in your heart that didn’t think any parent truly wanted to inflict pain on their children. And your heart keeps proving itself wrong again and again.

“You just... jumped out of the car?”

Ramirez’s voice snaps you from your inner thoughts. He was let out of custody this morning. He’s currently filling in anyone who asks about the shipment, about Ernesto’s future plans, about the role he thought he had.

“Against my better judgment, but yeah.”

He chuckles and grins like he’s a kid hearing the best story ever told. “That’s what superheroes do. At least, what I’ve seen in the movies. John Wick, Bond, esos tipos.”

“I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, Omar,” there’s a teasing tone, “but I’m a fucking Avenger.”

That makes him laugh louder and in turn pulls one from you. “Ya se, ya se. I’ve known you since you were born. It’s weird hearing stories about you saving the world and jumping from bombed cars.”

“Mm, wait until you hear about that time I went into space and landed on another planet. Or time traveled. Take your pick.”

He’s stunned into silence and after a few more praises, he lets you return to typing out your report. There are plenty of other agents around for him to busy himself with. The base is tiny and not at all what you expected, but it’s secure enough to fit Torres, Sam, Bucky, and about fifteen other agents as they prepare for tonight. The plan you and Steve outlined was simple: attend the wedding, butter everyone up, send Steve away to help Ernesto retrieve and move the shipment, Scott and Sam will infiltrate, Bucky would be on standby to help you fight, and the rest of the team at base will begin arrests and sweeps. If everything goes according to plan, at least.

It’s easy to speak negatively about these things - there really were only two ways this could go.

You finish your report and go to stand, only realizing a minute later walking through the base that Ramirez is following you. You send him a funny look over your shoulder and he returns with a small smile of his own.

“Tengo preguntas!”

You stop and let him catch up. “Hmm?”

“Okay,” he starts, motioning his hands wordlessly until he could form them. “Are you and the Captain actually... juntos? Or just Avenger partners?”

“That’s personal, Omar,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “But I guess? That’s weird discussing with you.”

He nods in agreement. “It’s okay, I was just curious. So, him being mad was just an act? He doesn’t really hurt and threaten you, no?” He’s treading lightly, but you can already see the cartel mind turning. He would order Steve’s execution if he had to, even if he believed it to be morally wrong in some situations.

“Never. It was just an act for Ernesto.”

“Ah, Dios. Thank goodness.”

“Yeah, keep your men in line. It’s fine.”

He chuckles at that. “And the other Avengers?”

“They’re my family, Omar,” you grin wide, waking slower for the old man to keep up. “They would never hurt me.”

“That’s good, but not what I was asking.”

“Oh?”

“What are they like?”

Handing your report to one of the agents at a handful of monitors, you laugh loudly. “Do you want to meet them officially?”

“Aye, I know my daughters would like that...”

You raise an eyebrow.

“But I would like to meet them, too.”

“That’s what I thought. C’mon.”

The rest of the team are all relaxing and discussing the past days events in the lounge area, which is really just a glorified break room. Bucky’s still in his morning sweats same as Scott, Torres is already suited up, and both Sam and Steve are wearing their Avenger gear (minus Sam’s wings and Steve’s battered shield). Steve is the first one to notice you enter and he instantly gets up from his chair to greet you with a kiss on the cheek.

“Gross,” Bucky mumbles.

“You’ve been trying to get me a girl for over ninety years, Buck. And now that I’ve finally got someone who likes me back, you bully me for it?”

“Who’s bullin’? I said the same thing when Agent Carter smooched you in the weapon’s room and you thought you were alone.”

You pat Steve’s shoulder. “Think about it, Rogers. When Bucky settles down with someone, you have free reign.”

Steve pulls a thin smile and glances back at Bucky. “I’ll make them hate you.”

“Love and hate are the same thing, pal. It worked out for you two.”

“Okay, we’re done. Everyone, Omar wanted to formally introduce himself.”

Ramirez gives a shy wave. Torres returns it. It’s kind of hilarious to witness. Here you all are, Avengers and some standing over six feet with one of the most wanted drug lords in the world, and the all mighty drug lord is shy. 

“I’m so sorry we got off on the wrong foot.” You notice how when Ramirez speaks to strangers or those he deems good people on his side, his accent is a little thicker. It’s like he wants to speak only in Spanish other than the Spanglish you were all accustomed to. “But it really is an honor to meet you all.”

Scott is the first to stand and shake his hand. “Sorry I pointed my gun at you, man. Habit.”

Ramirez chuckles, “Sorry I broke into your room.”

Steve interjects, “Thank you, though. For telling us what more we’re fighting for.”

Ramirez nods, a solemn look spreading over his face. “The minute I found out, I didn’t know who to tell. I’m lucky you were never truly on his side.”

“And what will you do after all this is over?” Bucky stands. “How do we know we can truly trust you?”

Ramirez sneaks a glance at you and you raise your hands. “Hey, I’ve got the same questions as him.”

Ramirez must know he isn’t getting out of this one because he answers quickly. “Drugs have a market where people choose. I just meet supply and demand protocols. I don’t do the unnecessary violence or blackmail. There is no need to. People will always want drugs.”

There’s a round of agreement throughout the small room. Ramirez continues, “But smuggling humans? There is no choice, nothing moral about it, it’s evil.”

“But people get addicted to drugs. They die from them everyday,” Sam argues.

“I produce and deal what you American’s call weed. Ernesto does the big stuff, as does White. I’m,” he laughs a little. “I’m their weed guy.”

“That is true,” you confirm. You’ve moved and packaged Ramirez’s product before. “Literally just weed.”

Everyone seems deep in thought, like their processing Ramirez’s words and the weight behind them. Ramirez ran with the big boys and was the biggest distributor of marijuana in Mexico and America alike, but he never messed with any other product. Besides producing, selling, and smuggling illegal weed, his only other crimes included conspiring with Ernesto on how to get the product over state lines.

“Okay,” Steve starts. “So how is tonight gonna work? We have to discuss that.”

Ramirez bows his head. “You’ve allowed me safety, you’ve listened to me speak, and you’re saving both my life and my daughter’s. If you must arrest me, then you arrest me.”

“The minute you’re transferred to a prison with less security, Ernesto’s men will get you,” you reason, already shaking your head no.

Ramirez gives a nonchalant shrug, “But you’ll get him and White. That’s all that matters.”

You look over to Steve for some other ideas, but like you he doesn’t have any. No one seems to have any.

Torres matches his shrug and his voice is small as he speaks, almost like his next idea is insane. “We can always put him in the Raft.”

Everyone’s eyes go wide.

“That’s where all the enhanced humans go, no?” Ramirez is stunned. “Do I count?”

“We’ve got no idea,” Steve rubs at his chin, looking at you for confirmation he knows you don’t have. “But it’s an idea.”

     The plan is no longer singular. Fury had sent his best field agents for the job, the ones with the best aim, the ones with great strategic planning. Although you and Steve were still in charge, it was no longer just your mission. Your mission was to arrest the big three, big four when including Seda. That was it.

The plan goes like this: half the team will be focused on the venue itself, hidden in the shadows and monitoring the big three as well as your mics, and will aid you in the physical fight and arrests. Some are on the ground while others in the sky. Afterwards, they’ll sweep the estate and collect stolen property or priceless artworks. The other half is split into two, where one of those halves will be spread out for miles to capture anyone that might slip through, like guests who were on the most wanted list or guests that have helped Ernesto in the past. The other part of that half will intercept the shipment (once Steve radios in the location), save the hostages, and shut down the routes. 

They instruct Ramirez to call Ernesto and to ask him if there’s a vegetarian menu offered. Ernesto responds with only a muttered groan and in a wild turn of events, asks if Ramirez can call you to make sure you arrive earlier than expected to make sure Jackeline walks down that aisle. He’s completely serious. Not only does Ramirez play along, but Ernesto doesn’t give any indication that he knows about the car bomb. So the team makes a judgement call: this was only Seda’s doing.

Ramirez is then told that the Raft is not an option; both the US and Mexican government want him and the only reason he hasn’t been arrested is because he still has many cards to play. The more he helps, the less time he’ll get. 

One thing is known: this is the biggest mission anybody has been on in over two years. 

      Bucky remembers things in bits and pieces. Sometimes he’ll be minding his own business, enjoying this new world and the countless amenities it offers, and remember exactly where he was on the hottest day of the year in 1936. He remembers the blistering heat, boiling his once pale skin and giving him that beautiful olive he was now known for. He remembers the way his tongue dried almost instantly the moment he stepped outside and how he asked his next door neighbor, Ms. Kranshall, for a cup of water before work. He remembers her massive square glasses and how they nudged the tip of her nose as she nodded sweetly at him. He remembers her high but smoky voice and the way she patted his shoulder as he drank the cup down. 

The first time he remembered Natalia was around the same time he remembered Steve. He sees a flash of ember in strands, speed almost matching his, and he sees those panicked green eyes he was once all too familiar with. 

She was twelve when he first met her, forced to throw her around like a ragdoll until her ribs were bruised and her spirit broken. He went again and again, and when he wasn’t forced he would teach her how to fight properly and how to shield her most vulnerable areas. Scared as she was, she never showed it in those private moments, and decided to follow his lead in most things. And she learned to be fierce, no matter how hard he hit, and he still remembers the look in her eyes and the pull of her young face as they yanked him away for cryo before he could congratulate her on winning her first fight. 

The first time he remembered you was when you leapt onto T’Challa’s back as the chase neared, tackling the young prince become king, and watched with sad eyes as both him and Steve climbed onto the jet for Siberia. He remembers your clumsy punches when you fought him with half his brain and how he kicked you so hard you flew. He also remembers how when you took that kick for Steve, the sound of his wail almost deafened the soldier. 

Everytime he remembers something, a memory, no matter how strangled it may arise, the twinge in his chest is good. He’s remembering. He’s James Buchanan Barnes.

He feels that same twinge when a face full of freckles greets him at the entrance, documents raised above her head in a show of selfish glee, and a pep in her step that tells him she remembers him too. 

“Sergeant Barnes!” Maribel gives a toothy grin. “Never thought I’d see you again!”

Bucky tilts his chin up and rests the tip of tongue between his incisors. “What? Hydra wasn’t enough for you, you gotta infiltrate the Mexican cartel, too?”

She scoffs playfully, “Other way ‘round.”

He snatches the documents from her hand and leads her inside. “I hope you got something here. Steve put a lotta faith in you.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Y/N does. That’s enough for me.”

Rolling her eyes, she snatches the documents back to turn the pages herself. “Follow me. We need to chat in private.”

“Shouldn’t we get-”

“I’d rather you know, and you tell them later. No audience.”

This causes Bucky to tense. He follows her in further and closes the door behind them both. 

The left side of her face had less freckles back in 2012, he remembers, and now she’s covered in them.     

Bucky remembers things slowly, but he remembers them. 

      It’s cold outside, air bruising your skin, and there are hundreds of goosebumps now erupting. You joke with yourself that in the end, you’ll most likely have to ask Steve for his jacket and ruin your overall look but hey, you’ll be warm. The wedding doesn’t start until five in the evening and it’s one’oclock right now, and there are white clouds in the sky instead of gray and the songs of some desperate birds searching for their lunch near your ears. It at least drowns out the constant noise of the agents hammering away at each other and preparing for tonight.   

It makes your stomach roll: these agents are putting their lives at risk because of you. 

     You stepped through the discarded papers and tried not to leave your footprint anywhere important. His office was empty, left in a state of purgatory, and his lamp was still on. It’s like he stepped out for a minute.

You picked everything up: pens, computers, books, chairs. Under everything, there was dust. 

He really did die.

As much as you wanted to step on his remains and spit on him, you couldn’t. The gash in your heart was still open and bleeding for everyone else and there was no room left for anger. You were indifferent, for lack of a better word. Frustrated?

A paper crumbles outside his office. No one had followed you in - a week after the snap and every single person on earth was still searching for loved ones or running from something - so no, no one else was supposed to be here. Mexico had been hit hard, it’s government shattered, and every cartel was picking up pieces or tearing the world further apart. There was no line anymore. 

You twisted around and aimed your gun at the door, immediately lowering it when you saw Natasha raise her hands. She had this embarrassed smile on her face like she knew she had been caught.

“I meant to say hi over your mic. But you turned it off.”

You sighed deeply and dramatically shrugged your shoulders. “Well, I’m here. Guess who’s not.”

Natasha only nods and steps further into the room. She looks over the same things you did. “He’s gone? Good, good riddance.”

“But his death means nothing if trillions of others died also. It’s so fucking typical of him. If he’s going down, he takes everyone else with him.”

“He didn’t take them, Y/N.”

“I want to be happy,” you spit out through clenched teeth. “I want to feel relief. The fucking bastard is finally gone and I can’t even enjoy it properly.”

Natasha takes one more look at the hallway before letting her guard down almost completely. She envelopes you in a hug, squeezing tighter each time your breath hitches. “Hey, listen to me.”

“He’s gone.”

“I know,” Natasha’s voice is low and reminds you of the gentle hum of record static. “He’s gone and he can’t hurt you anymore.”

“But everyone-”

“No,” she pulls away and places both her palms over your neck. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

It takes a while before you’re nodding along, repeating her words gently.

“You’re more than the pain he inflicted. You’re more than his name or crimes. You’re worth more than his impact ten times over. He can’t hurt you anymore. I know everyone’s gone, and we’re going to fight like hell to bring them back, but in this little moment, this little thread you can pull - pull it all out - he can’t hurt you anymore.”

She’s all muscle and bone and blood and real. What would you do without Natasha?

     The grass beneath your bare feet calms you down. It’s tendrils are a little ticklish and there are droplets of silver morning water fog melting as they touch your skin. Focusing on the feeling isn’t enough to get you out of your own head and for a wild second, you think the God of Thunder is going to come up behind you and hold your hand. It’s peaceful out here, but what you wouldn’t give to see him again. 

The day before Steve and Carol returned the stones, he had been here. He did as he promised: the second the flood of happiness extinguished like a Christmas candle, he found you settled in the mass of pillows with only instrumental music playing. He left for two cups of tea, sat in silence with you as you both drank, and whispered a strangled ‘I’m sorry’ as if you weren’t meant to hear it. Apologizing for someone who did come back, and you for someone who didn’t. 

‘You know I don’t regret what we did. We brought everyone back.’ 

‘Don’t try and justify your sadness. Not at all, not with me.’ His voice was stern and his eyes serious.

‘I’m sorry he didn’t come back.’

His eyes had closed, as if he was expecting that apology, and he looked out the window where the sun was just barely rising, shining on him and him alone. ‘I’m sorry, too.’

There are footsteps, though. Heavy ones, footsteps that announce his upcoming presence on purpose so as to not startle anymore. Bucky was too generous for his own good. 

“Had a visitor.”

You remain silent as Bucky sits next to you, looking up from his spot and expecting you to sit as well. “There’s water on the grass.”

“There’s water in the air in this godforsaken state, now sit down.” A push of laughter escapes your lungs but you follow his instructions anyway. 

You sit in silence for a few minutes, admiring the way the pine trees bend slightly with the gusts of wind and how the birds have changed their pitch. You expect Bucky to speak first so you occupy that time by playing with the strands of wet grass. 

“In 1997, I was taken out of cryo for a mission.”

You wince on accident. This wasn’t how you expected the conversation to start. 

Bucky continues, “There was this man south of the border.” He points south to prove his point. “Hydra wanted to take him out because he was interfering with the drug routes they were monitoring.”

“Hydra controlled drug routes?”

“Hydra had their heads in plenty of places. They didn’t control them, but they did monitor them.”

You shake your head in understanding. “And this man?”

Bucky sighs heavily. His eyes are focused on the gentle yellows behind the trees instead of you. “He was told to take out another man traveling through and out one of these drug routes. He made a different call.”

“Who was your visitor?”

“Maribel.”

“Wha-?” You go to stand but Bucky gently pushes your left shoulder back down. “Why are you telling me this and not her?”

“She wanted me to tell you. And I guess, in turn, you tell Steve and the rest of the team.”

“Bucky,” your voice trembles on accident. “Tell me.”

“The man I was ordered to take out was Maribel’s brother.” He chuckles at your frantic shuffling and pushes you down again. He continues, “Hey, it’s okay. She never knew him and she doesn’t hate me for what I was.”

You don’t really believe him. But his face isn’t telling you otherwise. You're stuck between wanting to dig for more information and giving him a giant bear hug. “Did you… succeed?”

“The soldier ever rarely lost.”

Your face contorts. “Bucky…”

“He disobeyed orders, Hydra didn’t like that since it disrupted the drug routes, and so I was sent to help. Hydra didn’t seem to care about the man he let go, though.” Bucky shrugs and starts playing with the grass behind your hand. “The thing was, Maribel’s brother had been doing this a long time. Ernesto was on Hydra’s radar but in a good way. Maribel’s brother was also given very specific orders from one other person - their mother.”

The story pieces are all discarded haphazardly, pieces that are from different boxes and don’t seem to entangle properly. 

“She told him to let the man go. Because this man was an American, and killing an American on Mexican soil was something that was impossible to hide from the claws of the law. So, this American made it back on US soil safely and was never heard from again. Until 1998, when he tried to re-enter Mexico under a false name but with one purpose. To see his newborn baby girl.”

The yellow behind the pine trees fades into orange. 

“Are you saying-?”

“Maribel’s mother kept everything your mother left her when she tried to cross the border herself. Your real birth certificate, her real birth certificate, you.”

Bucky looks over finally, sad smile and all. “Maribel thinks, and now I think, that Ernesto isn’t your real father.”

There are so many questions formulating at the base of your skull that you don’t really take the time to absorb the news. “What did she bring you? What was in those papers?”

Bucky seems startled that your reaction wasn’t one of shock. “Like I said, Maribel’s mother kept a lotta things.” He pauses momentarily before speaking again. “Blood results was one of them. Still trying to authenticate them.  The American was a doctor, after all.”

“A doctor,” you whisper. 

“A doctor. He changed his name but he’s alive. Maribel’s checked.”

“Why would she tell me this now? Why now just hours before the wedding? Isn’t that why you guys didn’t tell me about what was really in the shipment?”

Bucky winces and his expression tells you he’s sorry. 

You continue, “Why now? Why does it even matter anymore?”

He inspects you quickly, scanning your features for any signs of discomfort. “You’re okay? I thought this would surprise you more.”

The chuckle you release is dry, kind of harsh. “It actually answers a fuckload of questions. Like, number one, why he fucking hates me.”

His eyebrows scrunch together. “You think he knows?”

“If he doesn’t, then he’s a super fucking asshole instead of just a fucking asshole.”

Bucky pauses again and smiles up at the sky. The clouds are white and extra large today, and he suddenly remembers the taste of that mini popcorn he had bought and shared with his little sister Becca… Becks… while watching Snow White and the Seven Dwarves at the theater. The salt and butter had stuck to Becca’s fingers and she had wiped them on Bucky’s sweater. He remembers scolding her for that but giving her a napkin in between his giggle fit. He feels the same swell in the meat of his heart listening to you. “We don’t deserve you. You’re like the moon. Always there, shaping yourself into what that person needs, crater after crater beat into you and yet, you move the tides.”

The little snort that leaves your nose hurts a little. “That’s pretty damn poetic for this moment of ‘you’re not the father!’”

Bucky bites his lip and smiles toward the yellow and orange hues. “Like the moon.”

      The hotel had replaced the door, no questions asked. The reason Sam decided to bust open the door instead of using the very functional key you had given Torres? No one knows. But the poor receptionist was told that you couldn’t possibly change rooms because this was top secret business and you absolutely wanted to slap Scott upside the head for worrying her. So they fixed the bolts and gave you all new keys. 

Didn’t matter much anyway since you weren’t sleeping here tonight. You had already packed and made the beds. 

You lay your dress and Steve’s dress attire on the respective beds. The dress sent over was a backless red silk, spaghetti strapped and slit on the left side - you’ve wanted to wear it since it arrived when Scott did. 

Steve knocked before entering the room. You almost laughed at the gentlemanly aspect of it. “Thought for sure they’d have kept you for another hour at least.”

“I gotta change sometime. That your dress?” Steve shrugs off his uniform and climbs on top of his freshly made bed.  

“That’s my dress. Sort of skimpy for a wedding, no?” You hold it up to show him the front and back.

“Does ‘skimpy’ mean bad?”

“Means slutty.”

He gives you this disappointed look, like he’s judging your vocabulary. “I wouldn’t use that word. So no.”

You silently apologize and move the dress over to the end of your bed. Everyone else was also getting ready for tonight. Agents were posing as local police, many infiltrated the wait staff, suits were being double-checked for any malfunctions. There was so much going on, but all was relaxed in your room. Steve smiles at you from his bed, head resting in his palm as he leans up to stare at you. It’s impossible not to blush under his stare, so you move to climb into his bed. You lay down with your feet to his head, the sides of your hips pressing together; just two upside down puzzle pieces. He chuckles and goes to lay on his back, right arm coming up to lay rested on top of your right thigh. 

“All this week I thought I wasn’t ready.” You’ve had no more nightmares. “But I am. I’m ready to end this.”

He runs his fingers delicately along your thigh. “I’m ready to help.” He sighs deeply and cranes his neck to try and meet your gaze. “We’ll make sure they get maximum time.”

“You know that’s not our call.”

“Still.”

You rest for another few minutes, gentle touches calming you. His body is so warm, emitting sweet thoughts like the beginning of spring heat, and it’s impossible not to curl up into it. Steve breaks the comfortable silence, “What are you thinking about?”

You suck in a breath and tell him the truth. “That in the matter of like… five days, you and I are basically lovers now.”

“Lovers?”

“Lovers.”    

He laughs out loud and goes to sit up.  “I intend on taking you out when we get back home.”

Lifting your head, you rest on your elbows and grin at him. “Oh? And where are you planning on taking me?”

He thinks for a second before pressing his lips together and giving up. “I have to ask Peter or Wanda. I have no idea where you go during the day to eat.”

You laugh, “Seriously? I could’ve sworn you tagged along once or twice.”

“Nope. I always refused.”

You frown slightly, “Riiight.” Not wanting to rehash the reasons why, you try to soften any wrong feelings about what that implies. “I’m sure you’ve been, though. I take Bucky places, too. Ask him.”

“Mmm, I have my pride. Can’t have Bucky thinkin’ he knows more about my girl than I do.”

You smile largely now and hope no lipstick rubbed off on your teeth. “Your girl?”

Steve averts his eyes like he’s just now asking for your name and if you’d like to go dancing. There’s a beautiful scarlet glow painting his pale cheeks. “Like I said, I’m taking you out and asking properly.”

“We’ve already surpassed third base. I remember it vividly.”

His smile falls comically and he turns to grab a throw pillow to smack you with it a couple times. “Crude! Crude as always. Goddamn.”

“I’m sorry! Hey, I’m sorry!” 

He stops his attack and pulls you into his chest. He warms your back instantly. “So, you’ll let me take you out?”

“I really, really like french fries,” you hum lightly and tilt your head back to lean into his shoulder. 

“That narrows it down, thanks.”

You chuckle due to his sarcastic tone. He rubs his hands up and down your arms. An idea formulates while in the warmth of his body. “You know what I really want to do after we finish with this?”

“What’s that?”

You tell him honestly. “Rent a cabin. Spend a Christmas there, maybe. Catch some fuckin’ fish. Experience the snow properly.”

His eyebrows furrow like he’s dissecting such a claim. “I… wasn’t expecting that.”

You shrug, “Sounds cool though, right?”

“Got room for one more?” He looks down to meet your gaze and there’s a glint of hope shimmering in the blue of his eyes.

       “Nat… Natasha.”

Natasha took in a sharp exhale as she lifted her head from the desk, left cheek numb and pink. Steve shot her a funny grin and continued shaking her shoulder until she fully opened her eyes. She slaps his hand away with a huff of laughter. 

“Come here to do your laundry? You know, there’s only so many times I can help prevent shrinking shirts.”

Steve scoffs, “I used to do laundry by hand. I can figure out a few buttons.”

“You would think.”

Steve rolls his eyes and bumps her shoulder with the palm of hand before speed-walking into the kitchen. “It’s one of those days.” He opens the high cabinets and pulls a few vodka bottles. 

Natasha pushes down whatever was starting to eat at her. She calms her deep breaths and rises from her chair. No words needed to be exchanged. She makes her way over to pull two glasses from the same high cabinets. 

Steve watches her a little hesitantly, but she has that lopsided smile that pinches through only one cheek and her eyes are the slightest bit swollen from her power nap, and Steve breathes a sigh of relief. She tilts her head to the other side of the kitchen, that lopsided grin gracing her bare feet. Steve fumbles through a few cleaning supplies and some plastic bags before he finds the bottle. 

“I hid it after… after Thor had that meltdown a year ago.”

Now, he was second guessing. It was a small bottle, only half left, but half a bottle of Asgardian liquor was enough to knock the God on his knees. For Steve, a few sips would do the same. But he needed it, he needed it, god help him. It’s been four years, he needs it. “Be my designated driver?”

“How about you spend the night? Y/N wanted to start a new show anyway.”

“I’ll be passed the fuck out during the opening credits.”

“But you’ll be here.”

Steve sighs and pops open the bottle. Natasha puts her hand up to stop him from pouring, “Check under that sink again.”

His eyebrows pinch together but he does as instructed. More cleaning products… more cleaning products. He tilts his head to look at the corners and there it was: a small, pink paper airplane taped mid-flight. Steve hunched his shoulders to grab it and crawled out carefully. “You know, you’re not supposed to tell me where you hide them.”

“Well, I felt bad! I’ve found like fifteen of your blue ones and how many do you have of mine?”

“That’s besides the point-”

“Say it. You’ve found six.”

His cheeks turn hot. “I’m not here all the time.”

“Excuses.”

“I leave mine in good spots. You probably got better eyes or something.”

Natasha laughs, loud and from her chest. “Sure. But hey - I’ll promise you somethin’.”

Steve pours the Asgardian liquor into his glass and straight vodka into Natasha’s. “What do you have in mind?”

“You find more than me by the end of this year, and I’ll take that vacation.”

Steve takes his first sip and tries not to pull a hard face. “You’re on. But what if you win?”

Natasha raises her glass and clinks it with his. He wants to apologize for forgetting to toast but her eyes are playful and forgiving. “You come with me. I’m not the only one who needs it.”

“So, I win regardless?”

She takes a sip and pulls a funny face. “Easiest battle, don’t ya think?”

They’re off their right minds twenty minutes into drinking and the common area is chaos. Pillows are thrown, the TV somehow ends up with dozens of fingerprints, and they’ve broken a couple flower pots. The cushions of the couch know Natasha’s bare feet and Steve’s boots; the walls fail to constrict their loud singing; Rhodey has already snuck past them to get himself a snack undetected. 

‘And so I cry sometimes when I’m lyin’ in bed, just to get it all out what’s in my head!’

‘Hit the high note, Rogers!’

‘When you do, I will!... I scream from the top of my lungs-’

‘What’s goin’ on? And I say, ‘hey!’ ‘hey!’ I say ‘hey!’ What’s goin’ on?’

Steve’s still clear-headed enough to twirl Natasha around. She’s flexible enough to climb onto his shoulders.

‘I pray every single day - for a revolution!’

She’s starting to slur her words and Steve wonders if that blond streak in her hair was there last week. 

‘The story of my life! I take her home, 

I drive all night to keep her warm and time, 

Is frozen!

The story of my life, I give her hope, 

I spend her love until she’s broke inside!

The story of my life.’

She can longer feel her toes but seeing Steve let go makes her so incredibly happy and breaks her heart. I needed this too, she thinks.

‘So, bye-bye, Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry

And them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye

Singin', "This'll be the day that I die

This'll be the day that I die!”’

She’s all muscle and bone and blood and real. What would Steve do without Natasha?

     “You wanna come?”

“Sure. I’ll cut down the trees for wood. Have a real fireplace.” He’s serious, you realize. Like, really truly serious. 

Your heart swells with excitement and some other feeling you can’t quite place. But it’s good, like really good. The sigh you release is full of sweet wonder. “A real Christmas tree.”

Steve tightens his grip around your arms. “December’s right around the corner. Trees should be ready and standing tall.”

It’s almost too much to imagine. You have the sudden urge to talk specifics, to plan out this vacation. A beautiful, rustic cabin with only a coffee maker brought from the outside century, knitted quilts, real snow, Steve’s body heat, Christmas lights… inviting Sam, Scott, Wanda, Peter, and Bucky down for Christmas dinner and presents. A whole sleepover filled with ghost stories, candle burning, board games, Christmas movies. You’re up and tucking your knees under yourself to look down at Steve in an instant. “You’d throw on that checkered shirt, grow out your beard even more, and chop down a few trees for me? With me?”

“There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be,” Steve says, eyes crinkling. For a second, he’s worried you’ll realize that he’s quoted your letter. But that same moment, you’re giggling with excitement over your future plans.

“Well, we lasted a week here without killing each other. The holidays always hold a few surprises.”

Steve picks up another pillow.

       Business is not conducted during the church service. It feels normal, with half the guests attending the service and watching the happy couple exchange vows, while the other half only arrives for the party. 

Jackeline’s dress is modern with a mix of vintage - simple, with long sleeves of lace and fabric that isn’t entirely white but with hints of beige; the dress dips lower in the back than it does in the front, and it’s tight near the waist but loose as it drapes down her long legs. Her hair is left loose and her make-up is heavy, and she illuminates under the sun rays that burst through stained cathedral glass. You don’t even pay mind to Ernesto and Seda seated in the aisle in front of you - not when Jackeline looks the way she does. 

As the service ends, Steve tells you to wait until most of the guests exit. The priest eyes him warily, inspecting his young face and build and obvious persona. He says nothing, but he places a gentle hand over the cross on his chest as he follows the guests out. Steve stands, and out of respect dips his fingers into the holy water provided near the heavy wooden doors. He signs the father, the son, and the holy ghost and dips his fingers in again to sign the same on you. With a silent thank you and tender wipe to your forehead, you don’t question it. He’s not Catholic, or at least you don’t think, but you know he does it for what’s to come. No matter your beliefs, he just wants something, someone, to protect you. You turn back to the cathedral and grip the door as you bend down to one knee and tip your head. 

       Everything is grander, that’s for sure. The decorations are tripled; the violet lights are reflecting like diamonds off every marble and glass surface; the chandelier’s are no longer gold sculptures but diamond; the clay flowers hanging from the ceiling yesterday are now a part of the centerpieces, squeezed in with the largest bouquet of roses and violets; the live bands (because of course there are two) are each still setting up as everyone is getting seated; and there are about fifty round tables circling the large dance floor. There’s still a nice view of the lake and the pine trees ahead, and the tarp was abandoned as there was no rain in the forecast. All in all, and there were a thousand other things you could focus on but didn’t have the energy to, everything was beautifully put together.

Jackeline wasn’t lying when she said half of Mexico was attending. Besides family, there were celebrities in attendance, famous musicians who were simply guests and not performing, family of some of the other biggest drug lords from both countries (minus Europe), and a couple politicians who dipped before the new couple even walked through the doors after seeing Steve. But Steve worked his magic like he had yesterday and had everyone eating out of the palm of hand in pure amazement. He even had a famous actress hanging off his shoulder in under three minutes. Walking away to go congratulate Jackeline, Steve doesn’t miss the quick, sarcastic flick of your middle finger aimed in his direction.  

“You’d tell me if you needed my help, right?” Jackeline asks after a while, bottom lip dripping champagne. She wipes it gingerly, careful not to smudge her pink lipstick. 

“I would if there was anything wrong,” you respond truthfully. She pauses to swallow her sip and squints. She follows your gaze to Steve, whose right arm is being tugged by a girl who looks about twelve with five multi-colored bows trailing down her french braid, and who is also trying hard not to blush at the very attractive actress he can’t seem to get rid of. 

“You’re going to stop him, aren’t you?”

You glance to your left, but it isn’t really a question. Jackeline knows. “Yeah.”

She nods and tilts her chin up, eyes still on Steve. “Make him watch as you burn it down.”  You know she’s referring to Ernesto. She continues, “Every last bit of it.”

Smiling down at your feet, you raise your glass at nothing in particular. Just to salute the night air and whoever is watching. A few seconds pass as you both watch the guests enjoy the music and appetizers. Jackeline shuffles in her heels but she doesn’t seem to want to leave your side just yet. “You run, you understand?”

She’s only momentarily startled by your words. “Okay.”

“I never meant to leave you here, Jackie. I just had to find a way out first.”

“You found a loophole,” she chuckles, but the next moment she’s serious. “There is no way out.”

“Might not be,” you admit, downing your glass in one shot. “But I know this. He can’t hurt you anymore.”     

      You don’t exchange more than a few words with Steve before he’s called by Ernesto’s men and motioned toward those massive dry lava rock doors; doors that don’t muffle sound but are strong enough to withstand a bullet wound. You watch him leave with them, and he shoots you a smile over his shoulder to simply look at you. Your eyes swell only slightly, burning the corners and blurring everything. He’s bright and brilliant, walking head first into Hell and shining like the bolts of Zeus.

Steve has faced giants before, from all backgrounds and all worlds. He has blocked their punches, taken near mortal injuries; stared them in the face with every ounce of anger and determination his cells could produce. There was always this whispered voice in his head that warned him of the last day he would pick up that shield. In 1945, the voice was loud and raging as he drove that nosediving plane into the Arctic. Over the last few years, however, the voice had quieted and let Steve ponder his fate himself. Steve swears the voice, or rather his own conscience, is getting tired. 

He listens intently, responding only when spoken to, and prays his mic is picking up every bit of this conversation. Ernesto commanded the room as he screamed orders in both English and Spanish. His men fell in line; some as determined as the old man, some quiet, some bothered. Didn’t matter what the orders were. Steve noticed the few who would glance at one another and speak their distaste with their wandering eyes. And when Ernesto would speak directly to Steve, the same men would pinch their lips into a thin line and glare. 

The shipment had arrived mid-conversation and as men were sent out to do their jobs, Ernesto kept Steve behind. I need you to stay with me until the shipment is secure and can be moved - you’re my bodyguard, Ernesto had told him, confident and only slightly bending his back in discomfort from the weight of the day. Steve agrees, and hears Bucky mention how they have eyes on the shipment from the sky. 

Steve stays by Ernesto’s side even when Ramirez is called in. He’s prepared for a bloodbath, for two big men to cement their graves in this tiny office, but it doesn’t happen. Or at least, it doesn’t happen yet. Ernesto regards Ramirez as an old friend and finally trusts him enough to tell him what the shipment contained. Steve isn’t surprised, however, when Ernesto takes nasty satisfaction at Ramirez’s horrified expression. Because even though Ramirez had already known, the confirmation adds a multitude of terror. Steve can feel his palms sweating. 

As expected, Ernesto tells Ramirez that he plans to use his lands for his gain. The safe thing to do would have been to agree, to nod along, and to live in the knowledge that the shipment most likely wouldn’t head out. But Ramirez, for some reason Steve can’t fathom, stands up and says no. 

Steve understands now; the odd shaking of your shoulders even when your face was completely blank and emotions calm. He watches the beads of sweat drip from Ernesto’s forehead onto the tip of his nose; he watches the way his chest heaves as his voice becomes louder; he watches until he can’t take anymore and he enlarges the shield with Scott’s tech and tells Ernesto to move away from the other man. Steve understands now - the man really is scary, even if he wants to admit it or not.

      “You really are a phenomenal actor.”

Swaying slowly, you try not to step on Seda’s feet as he guides you across the dance floor. The music is calmer than it was five minutes ago, the guests are enjoying dinner and conversing, and Steve had told you fifteen minutes ago that he would be right back. Ernesto had sent you a malicious wink, but you knew better. Steve’s name was written in blue and Ernesto’s real target had to be you. 

“Acting with what? Acting that I enjoy this dance? Acting like I respect you?” Your upper lip twitches into a teasing smile. “Or acting like I don’t know it was you who planted that bomb?”

He matches your smile, looking down at you with a glint in his eyes. His grip around your waist tightens. “Acting like you’re really on our side.”

Lowering your voice just a fraction, you lean in, top of your head level with his chin. “I’m on Ernesto’s side. You almost had me and my Captain blown up.”

His left hand is settled on your shoulder and he uses the opportunity to dig his nails in. All around him, his men are watching. “How did you get away?”

You give a dry laugh. “You think that was my first bomb? It was childsplay.”

Seda scoffs, “You speak of this Avenger business like I don’t know who you are. You’re still that scared little girl who hid in her room when alien’s fell from the sky.”

“I may be. But there’s a difference between you and I. I actually stared them in this face and won.”

“The second time, maybe”

Sticks and stones, but goddamn did those words always hurt. Blame goes a long way but you and your team are used to keeping it close to home. “Why do you want me dead?”

His scowl deepens and the wrinkles by his eyes crinkle over each other as he squints down at you. “The Avengers are not secretly on our side. Tony Stark never was but Ernesto loves to tell people otherwise. Same about your Captain. You’ve been playing us for years.”

“What evidence do you even have? For years, we’ve done nothing but clear the roads for you,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. 

He unwraps his arm from around your waist and sets both hands around your upper arms. He’s pressing down as hard as he can but still loose enough not to draw unwanted attention. He breathes a sharp exhale, and the puff of air hits your cheeks. “I don’t know what happened to my men after you got what you deserved. They were good men and just like that, erased.” He smirks. “I know you had something to do with it.”

A guest with bright red hair laughs loudly to your side as she is twirled around by her partner. It’s not as vibrant as you’re used to, but you still imagine that lopsided smile you hadn’t seen in forever. “Does it matter? You know what they did, so why is my hypothetical revenge chastised?”

“Tell me right now that none of your Avenger friends did your dirty work. Tell me your Captain’s hands are clean.”

“I promise you, my Captain is clean.” Seda doesn’t show any signs of believing you. Still, your mouth twitches into a mocking smirk. “But our once mutual friends Tony and Natalia tell another story.”

“Am I supposed to believe that two people who are dead are responsible for this? Ironic,” he grits his teeth.

You repeat, clear and true. “My Captain is clean.”

He fakes a tiny gag but you know he means his disgust. “You turned over so quickly for him. For the heroes who destroyed the world. Pathetic.”

“You really need to stop underestimating me,” you practically order, voice full of warning and annoyance. 

Seda continues, “Following orders from a fascist. Following orders from a country that only does harm.”

He turns you around as the dance instructs, a half-hearted waltz that didn’t have a beginning, middle, or end. You take that second to scan your surroundings and weigh your options. “I agree about the country part. But I don’t follow orders from the country, I follow them from my Captain.”

You’re facing him again and in those hellish eyes you see truth. “No, he’s a symbol of everything we hate. Of everything we need to destroy.”

“Touch Steve and I’ll blind you.”

His feet stop mid-step, as do yours. His eyes widen only a little, but it’s all the ammunition he needs. “I knew it.”

It’s barely a whisper, a tickle from a single strand of hair, but you catch it. No longer keeping it a secret, or rather a secret you didn’t care that you let slip, Seda now knows it was all a lie. All this time you had never referred to Steve as anything other than your Captain.

You feel the blunt head of a .22 press against your abdomen as Seda laughs, “You never could get a mission right.”

Twisting his arm and knocking the gun from his loose grip with your wrist was easy. So was catching the gun mid-air and elbowing him in the ribs. Seda falls to the floor in a state of shock, instinctively gripping his chest. You aim the gun at him and like you’ve seen in the movies, place the tip of your heel just below where his belly button would be. He releases a sharp breath and his eyes are challenging, practically begging you to dig deeper and get on with it. 

You can hear the screaming and frantic murmuring from the guests surrounding you and the leveling of guns from Seda’s men. But you’re focused on the man trying so hard not to quiver beneath you, his nasty grin spreading wider. 

“You’re alone,” he bites. “Your Steve is helping Ernesto right now, no? You’re alone.”

Your grin forms slowly, and you’re counting down the seconds you have until his men start firing, but you lean your upper body down slightly to make sure he hears you. “That’s never been a problem before. Don’t you remember?” You click back the safety as discreetly as possible. “I was trained by the Black Widow herself.”

You quickly raise the gun to shoot the closest of Seda’s men in between his collarbones, effectively starting the bloodshed. You jump out the way in a flash, rolling across the floor and behind a table. Tipping the table over is easy and it seems like a smart idea at first, until you realize the tables are all glass. The tablecloth had covered that detail, which sucks like hell, because now the bullets are shattering through and you’re forced to kick yourself away and run behind the pillars instead. The heels are kicked off at the same time you’re fishing underneath your dress. 

A stray bullet hits the pillar’s side making you squeal. It makes you work faster, though. 

Once you find the secure nano-tech ‘button’ (as Scott liked to call it), you strip as quickly as you can and slap the button on your bare shoulder. The nano-tech spirals and threads into itself as intricately as frost spreads on a window, shielding you in both metal and kevlar. 

When a storm of bullets hits the pillar and cracks the marble, you’re forced to crouch and hope Seda’s .22 and the myriad of weapons you’re now equipped with are enough. Before your thoughts can creep into a ‘last man standing’ mode, a roar of wind sweeps across the estate and between the cracked pillars, causing your loose hair to slap your face and blind you for only a second. Quickly putting your hair up and pulling the metal batons from the back of your suit, you’re met with the best sight - one that was a little late, in your opinion. 

“Kind of you to show up!” 

Sam ignores your quip as he flies into three men at once, feet first with his wings extended with the might of a guardian angel. He immediately shields runaway guests who were caught in the middle. He takes the ones on his left, you take the ones on his right. 

You let them swing first. They’re fast and pulling their punches and are clearly aiming for the end result of sticking you to the ground. But you’re quicker and deflect the punches. You manage to deliver a solid punch upward to crack the nose of one. As he reaches up as instinct, his ribs are open season. 

He falls out cold easily after your batons do their damage and the next man isn’t nearly as fast as the first. He doesn’t move enough to his right to avoid the harsh kick to his sternum. Each ambitious kick to the chest seems to demolish the man’s protective wall he’s trying desperately to keep intact, but once you give your legs a break and switch back to the batons, he doesn’t stand a chance. There are bullets raining across the venue, but Sam is shielding you and deflecting them elsewhere. It allows you the freedom to rip into whoever you think deserves it. 

You’ve got two men on your tail and after knocking their weapons from their hands, it seems like a fairer fight. The first doesn’t step back far enough to avoid your roundhouse kick and he falls hard on his ass, gasping for a lick of air. The second is closer, however, and manages to wrap you in a chokehold. Releasing yourself to fall deadweight for only a second, gravity tricks him and you use the momentum to kick up and fly over his shoulders. It’s hard to do without a wall to propel yourself off of. But your abs and thighs are clenched and you don’t quite think you’ll actually end up on this guy’s shoulders but you do. You don’t dwell on that moment of personal pride, though. Tightening your thighs, you use your upper body weight to lean downward and wring his neck. Once he’s down, you sweep your leg around across the floor to trip the other man who was just barely standing back up. With the .22, you fire point blank. 

Detaching yourself from the gore has never been much of a challenge. Eyes rolling back and clouding, limbs dangling limp after having just been full of life, bodies thumping against the floor after eating your bullets - you don’t so much as grit your teeth anymore. 

Sam is dealing with his own mess closer to where that poor cake is now destroyed, vanilla filling exposed and now two stories instead of four. The other cakes are no better. Sam pulls the trigger once more at someone charging at him and he averts his eyes. Sam, however, clenches his jaw. 

“Where’s Seda?” you shout, firing at men who are jumping out from behind tables but giving away their location before they even surprise you. 

“Lost him. I think he’s heading over to Steve!”

You look over the room and pray everyone got out safely. There are no civilians lying in their own puddle of blood, no guests begging for help, but you can never know for sure. “We need more hands. Where the hell are Scott and Bucky?”

A storm of bullets starts crashing into the tables and pillars beside you. Trying to duck doesn’t work and you’re grazed in the left arm. Sam tackles you behind the stage, wings extending further and out bending around you. 

“I’ve been shot!”

Sam can’t help the laugh that erupts from his throat because of your dramatic tone. “You’ve been grazed. The nano-tech has already rebuilt itself.”

“I don’t care, I hate being shot. It’s not nice. I’ve been hit.”

“Dramatic.”

“Y/N?” a harsh whisper sounds from under the stage tables. Watching your eyes bulge paints a mournful expression on Jackeline’s face. Julian is right beside her, pistol out but not shooting. You wonder if he knows you’re the invader.

“What in the hell are you still doing in here? I told you to run!”

“I’m sorry,” Jackeline squeals as bullets continue firing. “Everyone crowded. I was scared so I just got down.”

“Sam.”

Sam nods, already reading your mind. You had to find Steve; you couldn’t stay here. But there’s bullets still blazing in your direction and you find yourself hopping on your ass slightly each time a bullet connects to the ground beside you. The nano-tech does great in deflecting the lead but it really isn’t an invitation to get shot more times. The graze on your arm is already starting to burn. 

“Sam is going to guide you both out of here, alright? Julian, cover her. Sam will cover you.”

There’s a war going on behind Julian’s eyes. His face does a thousand things at once as he hears your orders and the scream of guns combined, but he nods. He grips Jackeline’s waist and pulls her in close, but before they can begin crawling Jackeline turns back to you. 

“Mátalo. Okay? Para nosotras dos.” She’s got this fierce determination in her eyes and her accent is as thick as can be. 

“Okay.”

Sam relays his location over his mic and who he has behind his wings, but before he can safely guide the married couple down the stage, a new wave of men enter and open fire. Sam’s wings can only take so much, and even though they’re vibranium, his suit is not. Ducking behind the table and reloading your gun, you then lift your head over to view the scene. It’s a mess and you could surely take them down hand-to-hand if you were close enough, but you’re stranded with your batons and seven bullets and a world of automatic machinery pointed at you. 

The storm of bullets pauses and every single person looks up to the sky. You thank the Gods for no rain today because the absence of a tarp allows for the quinjet to settle over the chaos and create a much needed distraction. Sam takes his leave, wings still wrapped around your sister, and you do the same. Running from behind the stage with batons lit up and tazed, you knock out the closest men. They fall in a strangle of electricity, vibrating and convulsing as each shock travels through their veins, ultimately paralyzing them for however long it turns out to be. This gains the attention of almost everyone else but before they can train their weapons back toward you, the back of the quinjet opens. There were a few tables still standing and it seemed the super soldier liked them better than the flat floor. 

The glass shatters from the impact of Bucky’s weight, glasses of champagne and plates with unfinished meals folding onto the shards. He’s dressed in his tactical gear and a dark navy blue jacket without a trusty sleeve. Even if the arm was covered and his hair was long rather than the short length it was now, the men would certainly know who just fell from the sky. Almost immediately, the men scatter. Bucky takes them down one by one, shot after shot, and decides to use his knives for the ones who don’t run. It’s tricky, but he manages to lodge his knives in the base of the spines of those who later changed their minds. 

He catches your eye after you manage to snap the neck of one of the runners. He tilts his head toward the left and watches you run to give Steve the backup he needs. 

     The mansion seems longer, wider, just generally bigger as you rush through the rooms and halls to get to Steve. The stuffed exotic animals follow your gaze and you can’t ignore them for long. There are men following you and men leaving Ernesto. You duck behind the standing polar bear and wait until the footsteps sound farther. Checking the amount of bullets in your gun, just in case, you finally flick the safety off and run.

There’s really only one thing of importance floating around the padded confines of your skull - get Steve out. Another thing you two had in common: both sacrificial idiots. But there wasn’t any way that you would give up the chance to save his life, as he would yours. Didn’t matter if the man you were protecting him from was your father or not. It hadn’t really settled, hadn’t truly digested, and you didn’t think it ever would. Because for years, this man was your father. He was the only man with that title. He wasn’t fatherly, far from it, but he had the label and that’s what you were going to focus on. It made no difference. 

You push the office door open and start stuttering over your words. You want to ask what happened, why there’s so much blood, whose blood it is, but all that comes is a fractured series of what the hell’s? The last syllables push through with necessary force, hardly intelligible, but exhaled at last. 

Ernesto is kneeling with his head hanging low and his hands behind his back, defeated. But it isn’t Steve who’s holding a gun to the back of his head - it’s Seda. 

No, Steve is in the corner clutching at his right hip and gritting his teeth, a wild look on his face that tells you he too was blindsided. He’s hurt. He’s gasping and wincing at the slightest of movements and it ignites the flame you’ll use to burn this world to the ground. It’s splitting your fucking ribs apart. 

“Don’t move!” Seda yells, gun still locked on Ernesto’s head but eyes on you. “Put the gun down.”

“Seda-”

“Put the fucking gun down!” 

Biting your tongue, you flip the gun in your hand so it’s facing downward and move to gently place it on the table. Flicking your eyes to where Steve is, you get your answer as to why he’s been so easily shot. His massive body and shield are draped over Ramirez, who is also disarmed and pissed. 

The self-righteous idiot, you think, he’s always gotta save the little guy.

“We’re gonna talk about this like the gods we are, yeah?”

Your face pulls awkwardly, “Seda, what is happening?”

“Don’t act like you’ve been on this asshole’s side the entire time now,” Seda bites, shoving the head of the gun harshly into the base of Ernesto’s neck. “Go on, tell him.”

“The shipment was intercepted,” you tell him. But you’re not just telling Seda, no, it’s the first Steve is hearing the good news and it allows him to feel a bit of relief. “You’ve both lost.”

“What have you done?” Ernesto screams, cheeks vibrating and face red with anger. He pays no mind to the gun and dares to glare at you. “Tell me!”

The top of your lip greets a run of tears and snot and it isn’t until then that you realize your hands are shaking mid-air and your throat is closing. “My mission.”

Blood or not, this man had the power to tie your thoughts into knots. He only had this power at precious moments and sadly, this was turning out to be one of them.

Seda bites out a laugh - it’s wet and bloody and scares you half to Hell. “I’m not the only one here who wants to kill you. But I’m going to beat her to it. She brought you back, I can’t have that.”

“No!” You curse inwardly at your involuntary hiccup. “We’re not here to kill you!”

“Oh?” Seda raises the gun at you. “What’s the endgame? Que mas necesitas?”

“I don’t need anything. The shipment is intercepted. The estate is on lockdown. Your routes are down. You’re cornered. It’s over.” You let your shoulders drag just a little. “For both of you.”

Surprisingly, Seda doesn’t pull the trigger when Ernesto charges toward you. He doesn’t pull it when Ernesto wraps his hands around your throat, either. 

It’s instinct for you to hold out your hand to stop Steve from doing what he does best. He’s already halfway up and wincing with each push to help you, to rip Ernesto from your capable body, but Seda clicks the gun in his direction. Steve watches the way your arm extends, all five fingers spread in a hopeless plea of ‘don’t you sacrifice yourself for me, don’t you dare’. 

“I have done nothing but help you! I put food on the table and clothes on your worthless back! You spent my money!” Ernesto’s eyes are practically bulging and his thumbs are almost crushing your windpipe, but his placement is off. You can still breathe air, no matter how bruising his grip may be. “This is how you treat me? I should have killed you all those years ago. I should have ripped you limb by limb until your cries bled!”

“Please,” you whimper out, hand still extended toward Steve and the other attempting to push Ernesto by the chest. 

“Please? Please? Te voy a matar aquí, ahora, porque siempre te lo mereciste!”

You let out a strangled scream and are about to fight back. To save yourself and to end Steve’s suffering of watching you suffer, of watching his newfound hope dwindle right before him, when a gunshot erupts. Everyone screams, ears ringing, and there’s blood splattered all over your cheeks and neck, spots and leaks that trail down into the collar of your bodysuit. A heavy weight lands on you and knocks you back into the shelves. You hold Ernesto’s now limp body as best you can, knees locking painfully. There’s a massive hole where the top of his head should be and for the first time in years, you have to look away to keep from throwing up. 

“Dejalo.”

You open and close your mouth but regret it when the taste of copper lands on your tongue. You follow Seda’s order and drop Ernesto to your feet, the thud sending a shiver up every single one of your vertebrae. 

“Por qué hiciste eso?” you ask him, voice small. You choke on another hiccup. 

“Don’t lie to me and say you weren’t going to do it yourself.”

You look over at Steve. His eyes are just as wide as yours and the same red specks, now turning brown, are tainting the flush pink skin of his beautiful neck. 

“No,” you whisper. Steve hears your lost accent returning and it clutches at his heart. 

“It was for the best.” Seda marches over to grab Ramirez by the tie, ripping him up from the ground and pointing the gun to his head. Steve lunges forward and Seda fires another bullet into the same hip. 

“No!” Your throat is raw, scratched, and Steve hits the floor in another heap of muffled groans. Seda returns the aim on Ramirez. 

“Imagine my surprise when I saw this one confronting Ernesto with your Captain. Imagine my fucking surprise when I tried to find all our passports, all our files, and nothing was here! Imagine my surprise when I saw that fucking idiot White being taken away by one of your agents!”

“Seda, please.” You were never much of a negotiator. It was always go in and let the others do the talking. Steve was the talker, he was the negotiator, but he was out of his element. He was always the enemy to Seda. He could never convince him otherwise. 

“You’ve given me new purpose,” Seda grins and Ramirez is rather calm in his arms, like he accepts this. “Look at the crime scene. I’m using the gun Ramirez got from your team. My men are still loyal.”

He pauses and smiles with all teeth, blood in between most of them. “You shot Ernesto. You shot your Captain. You shot Omar.”

The frightened look on your face seems to fuel him even more. He continues, “We’ll never stop hunting you.”

“Try it,” Steve manages, standing up again and vaguely registering the flash of light to his right. His shield is no longer there. “You’ll have to kill me to win. You’ll have to kill all of us to win. Me, Y/N, Omar, Sam.” He breathes in deep but smiles. “The Winter Soldier.”

You swear Seda’s face pales but his grip around Ramirez’s waist only tightens. “Easy.”

“It won’t be,” you finally say, voice no longer wavering. There’s no plausible way Seda could win. But one thing is fact: whether they’re Seda’s or Ernesto’s men, they’ll never stop hunting you now. “You lost, Seda.”

All stills but there are shouts and the ring of gunshots still echoing near the lake. 

“No,” Seda looks to you and to Ernesto’s body. “I didn’t.”

He aims the gun at you and fires. 

Steve’s wail is grease to the fire in your soul and you accept whatever pain might hit. There’s space and then there isn’t. There’s emptiness and then there’s a space being filled by that horrid but lifesaving shield. There’s no one and then there’s Scott, blown up to his regular size with shield in hand and in front of you. The bullet bounces off the shield easily and hits the wall. You’re pushed into motion and in about two seconds, you’ve grabbed your gun again and do not hesitate to fire. The bullet hits Seda in his exposed chest and Ramirez fumbles to get the gun from him. Seda hits the floor and no one else follows. 

The shot hits its target perfectly. Seda doesn’t so much as stutter. 

“God,” Scott grumbles, eyes trying to focus on anything other than the pools of blood. “Was I late?”

You don’t pay any mind to Scott and rush over to Steve, where he’s barely holding himself up with his hip tilted on the edge of the desk.  “Steve? Steve. Did he hit anything important?”

“Besides the fuckin’ meat of my stomach?”

There isn’t a way to see beneath the kevlar, but your fingers have a mind of their own as they try to dig in. “You know what I mean.”

Steve huffs a laugh and gently slaps your fingers away. “No, but motherfuck me Christ, I get shot way too much and it hurts no less.”

“Was the shield not enough? You had to sacrifice your one-hundred year old hips? Are you hit anywhere else?”

“I was caught off guard. What about you? I heard over the mics that you were shot and-”

“Are you two done?” Scott interrupts, clearing his throat awkwardly but half a mind still paying attention to his own mic. 

It’s like you’re snapped back to reality. There’s not only Steve but others, alive and dead, and the smell of copper is all too familiar.  “Sorry, I’m still in shock. I don’t really know how to proceed from here.”

“Y/N-” Scott tries, but you resume.

“We were supposed to arrest them. Just arrest them.”

“Okay, I think we should get you outta here,” Steve acts like he’s the one guiding you, but his weight is falling. You faintly register a phone ringing in the room but Steve, ever so persistent, is still acting like he is holding you up. He lunges forward with a sharp wince, and your hand immediately goes to his hip. 

“Captain.”

Ramirez lowers his phone, call ended, and he wears an expression Steve recognizes immediately. It’s an expression that looks all too similar to Dugan’s when he relayed the news of enemy forces breaching their base. “...How many?”

“They’ve already sent the news to their men in Mexico.”

“Have they shut down the border?”

“It wouldn’t make a difference.”

“They don’t know two of their men are dead, so we can-“

Scott shakes his head, shield still in hand with specks of blood drying on the blue stripe. “They know White was arrested. That’s all they need. They’ll assume the rest, the worst.”

You sigh, “Seda was right.”

Scott literally pouts and he looks like he wants to wrap you in his arms. “No, don’t send yourself there.”

Steve, however, agrees with you. “If they know about White, then they know about Omar. Seda had time to tell his men.”

“Then we make sure he’s arrested and taken to a secure facility. We can keep an eye-” Scott starts, but you shut him down quickly.

“He’s wanted by the US government, not the Avengers. We can only transport him. We can’t guarantee his safety.”

Ramirez gives a small smile. “Mija, voy estar bien. No te preocupes.”

“I don’t know.”

Scott looks between the three of you. He places the shield against the wall near the door. He raises his eyebrows at Steve and looks to his wounds, but Steve waves him off. Reluctantly, Scott nods. “I’m gonna go check on Sam.”

There’s a pool of blood near your boots. You don’t want to know if it’s from the dead or from Steve.  

“Doll, what are you thinking?”

He can’t hurt you anymore. “That I need you to go, too.”

Steve forgets about the pain in his hip and focuses solely on you. “What?”

“Go. If there’s one more thing you can do for me and my reckless family, go check on Sam.”

“You know I can’t leave you here alone with him.”

Your voice is steady and calm and it’s scaring Steve. It’s scaring him. “I promised myself that you wouldn’t be hurt by this mission. I stand by it.”

“I promise, Captain, I have no resentment. Whatever she does, I will follow,” Ramirez speaks, and Steve doesn’t even pay him a glance. 

“I can’t just go.”

“Steve,” you interlock your fingers behind his neck. “Please. Listen to me.” He looks so confused, a million questions flying through his mind and almost escaping those sweet pink lips. Fierce, you whisper for only him. “He can’t hurt me anymore. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

He relishes the feeling of your soft hands behind his neck. They’re bloody, but yours. His neck is bloody, but you don’t seem to care. “Two minutes.”

“Two minutes,” you confirm.

He pulls from your hold and turns to leave. He picks up the shield. Before he leaves, he grips the doorway and looks over his shoulder, eyebrows pinched and jaw tense. “Two minutes, I swear to Almighty Christ, Y/N. I’m coming back for you.”

You smirk, the dim light from the office lamps creating nothing short of a sparkle in your eyes. “I don’t expect anything less, Rogers.”

Steve hesitates for a moment and then he walks away. Once his footsteps are no longer heard, you turn back to Ramirez. There’s a voice in your head telling you this was a bad idea and that you were an idiot to have your back turned on him for so long, but Ramirez is simply leaning on one of the chairs and grimacing at the bloody scene before him. 

“Remember when Ernesto bought you that car when you were thirteen? And then another when your brother crashed it?”

Your nose pinches, “I don’t feel like reminiscing when he’s lying right there.”

“Do you remember what you told me when he bought you that second car? The sports one?”

You sigh. Ramirez was clearly going to continue speaking. “‘No lo quiero. Soy una niña. Get rid of it.’”

“And I did.”

“You did.”

He smiles, and for the first time you notice all the gray hair dusting his head, the most by his temples. There's a limp in his step too but you can’t remember if he had before or after the wedding. “I’ll get rid of this.”

“What?” you blink, unsure if you heard him right.

“I’m already a traitor. If I spin this, you can continue the mission. You can arrest even more of his men. They’ll come after me instead of you.”

It’s what he’s been trained to do. It’s what he’s done since he transported his first shipment. It’s what he’s done time and time again for Ernesto, for Seda, for some of his own careless men. He’s numb to it, just as you were a few days ago, but now you can’t stop thinking about the aftermath. Where would he put their bodies? Would they be buried here or back in Mexico? Would people really care if Ernesto was dead? They didn’t seem to care when he was snapped out of existence. But Ramirez has this sag in his shoulders that tells you he’s already calculating the best way to wrap the bodies and how deep he plans on sending them… or burning them. Burning them was always easier. 

“They’ll come after your family. Your daughters.”

He shakes his head, “I’ve ensured their safety. They’re safe.”

Against your better judgement, you tap your mic discreetly and turn it off. “I can’t let you take one for the team.”

He chuckles, “I’m a part of your team? I’m an Avenger?”

You can’t help but laugh with him. It’s not a light moment, but it’s a moment nonetheless. “Sure, Omar. But we don’t trade lives.”

“I had this coming.”

“No, you didn’t. You don’t.” Straining your ears and shutting your eyes, you mumble a quick prayer in hope that this plan of yours worked. You pass Ramirez your own gun and speak low. “Go.”

He’s shocked and he stutters. “Que haces? Que esta pasando?”

“There’s no one on the east side right now. All the guests were moved to the front. It’s clear. But not for long.” Pushing him to the door, you make sure he’s not leaving any bloody footprints behind. He’s clear. “Go.”

“This will kill us both.”

“But it will give us a head start.”

“No puedo hacer eso! No quiero hacer eso.”

“Omar, they’re not going to protect you once you’re charged. I can’t protect you then. So I need you to go.” You reach into your suit and pluck that random Roman coin you had stolen just a few days earlier. It was a token of good luck but you didn’t need it anymore. You avoid looking at the carving for fear that the likeness to Steve will make you change your mind. You place it in Ramirez’s hand and clench his fist shut.  “If there’s one thing you can do for my stupid, anti-hero mentality, go.”

“Que hago con esto?”

“No me llamas. But let me find this.”

He looks at you with pity. It’s so much pity and understanding for your situation that you have to look away. “I owe you my life.”

Eyesight now on the wall over his shoulder, you offer him a thin smile. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

He stumbles at first, unsure if this is really happening, and finally passes by. “Y/N.” 

You figure it’d be pretty rude not to answer. You turn slowly. He continues, face somber and head shaking with so much pity. “The amount of Hell that’s coming...”

It’s funny, really. You shoot him that famous smile you were known for. It tricks him like it’s supposed to. “I’m already going to Hell for the lives I’ve taken and the crimes I’ve committed. But the journey to my fate has been worth it.”

     The estate is being swept as quickly as possible. There are agents dressing wounds, reading rights, snapping photos, on the phone, etc. It’s organized chaos and there’s so much happening but it’s never impossible to catch Steve’s side profile in a crowd. His nose is pinched up and he’s dealing with his wounds himself. No one is even looking at him. 

Speed walking to him, you hook your arm in his and turn him around. He’s too tall, and your toes strain as you rise on them, but you wrap your arms around his neck anyway. He returns the gesture and squeezes you as hard as you’re squeezing him. After a few seconds, he whispers quietly.

“Where’d Ramirez go?”

If he saw your eyes, he would know you were lying. You keep your arms in place. “He got away.”

He tries to push you away but fails. “Y/N.”

“He got away,” you repeat. Slowly, regretfully, you pull back.  “We should go.”

There’s a horrible crease in between his eyebrows and he knows he’s caught you in a lie, but he also knows that if there was one thing he knew most about you, it was that you were just as stubborn as he was. Quick with wit, always asking to be punched, and stubborn to the point it made strangers worry. So he doesn’t question it, and turns with you in the direction of the jet.  “Maribel has the safehouse set up. Montana.”

“You sure you can make it to the jet? Should I get Bucky to come with us?”

The quinjet is empty except for a few supplies, a medical bag, and Friday. There are only two seats and by the way Steve’s bending over to show his true pain, you’d be flying it. Once you land, you can fish out those bullets.

“No one else.” Steve bites. He can’t risk anyone else - hell, he doesn’t even want to risk you. “I’ll protect you.”

You board the jet and watch as the trees sway in rhythm to the movements of everyone doing their job. It’s dark, and you push the fact that you’re so horribly night blind to the back of your skull, and it’s starting to eat away at you that the mission didn’t really go as planned. No one seems to notice yet that you never brought them the two main players they were hoping for. It only makes you close the quinjet faster. You sit Steve down in one of the seats and kneel before him. “And I you.”

If anyone asked, Steve would lie and say he was tearing up because of the bullets piercing his skin in half.  To protect and be protected. 

“Let’s go.”

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​

[byrdiecannotblog]

Speaking as a nostalgic childhood-Marvel-fan and unfortunate MCU Junkie who has seen almost every single major entry (All movies, all Disney+ shows, almost all Netflix shows, and parts of Agents of Shield and Agent Carter) since Iron Man, this is absolutely true and you can even see the cutoff for when it happens (This one's gonna be a real long boi to unravel, y'all...).

Iron Man was a movie that only could've been made at the time it was because - as Matt Damon says - until a certain point, studios could fall back on DVD sales if their movie failed to make a buck in the theaters. Everyone thought Iron Man would fail before its release, but Paramount (the distributors of the MCU except for The Incredible Hulk from 2008 until 2011) decided to give Feige and company their little passion project because of the chance for DVD sales to keep them afloat - and it turned out that they didn't even need to take that into consideration because it was a smash hit in theaters. But if pre-production had started even a few years later, then Paramount wouldn't have even considered giving Feige as much free reign as they did because DVD sales started tanking after 2008 (because - ya know - housing crisis and subsequent recession) After Iron Man, they didn't need to worry too much about not making back their money. They just needed to worry about making enough profits to maintain the possibility of sequels.

...And then Disney officially starts distributing new MCU movies in 2012 - starting with The Avengers - and now they don't even need to worry about not making enough profits because it's Disney and Disney will fund it with their infinite hole of money because they already know it makes more money to throw into the infinite hole of money. I will say that although the general public did start to see some of the mediocre plots and/or subplots, terrible overuse of quips, cookie-cutter story beats and framework, and notoriously unmemorable one-off villains in the entries of Phase Two (2013-2015), these issues weren't entirely because of infinite funds producing a lack of care; but rather they were the result of the constant meddling and micromanagement by the now infamous Marvel Creative Committee and the at-the-time CEO of Marvel and racist, sexist, homohobic, and petty massive fucking douche canoe known as Ike Perlmutter.

Perlmutter and the Creative Committee were swiftly dealt with by Disney - for once being the preferable option in this scenario - and after that we started to see some improvements with the above complaints that most common moviegoers had. That said, we also started to see the gradual change in marketing strategy towards hype and excitement about the movie becoming more important than the movie itself. This strategy can be seen as early as 2015's Avengers: Age of Ultron but by the time of Phase Three (2016-2019), it had become especially important as Marvel Studios was now releasing no less than two movies a year and superhero movie fatigue is a very real and very noticeable thing. It's at this point where you're seeing more of the trailers begin to emphasize fight scenes, crossovers, or massive battles and destruction while distinctly giving little-to-no details about the actual story or plot of the movie. It should be noted that the Marvel Studios Spider-Man films co-produced by Sony didn't utilize this hype-over-product marketing strategy (due to Sony having their own marketing team) to the same extent as the ones distributed by Disney: compare the main trailer for Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 to that of Spider-Man: Homecoming, or the respective main trailers for Avengers: Endgame and Spider-Man: Far From Home.

And now we're brought to Phase Four (2021-2022) and everything onward. Marvel Studios released four movies and five television shows in 2021. So far in 2022, they've released two films and three television shows with two television specials and one more film on the way to cap off Phase Four. Phase Five (2023-2024) has four films and six television shows in 2023 and two films and a movie in 2024. Even for a franchise this is an insane amount of productions that are being pumped out every part of every year and there is no way to keep track of and maintain the quality of the writing, characterization, plot, visual effects, or anything of any value whatsoever - but no one cares or bothers to maintain consistency because the endless amount of hype will produce an endless amount of disposable money to burn and keep that cash flow streaming and paving the way for more passable okayfests. I tip my hat to Feige and company for making the MCU what it is now against all the insane and ridiculously impossible odds that were set against them. Unfortunately tho, it has set the tone for the filmmaking and television production industries in this new age; and this is something to be very afraid of if you are a creator, a worker, a producer, or anyone who has any sort of emotional investments in those industries.

(Sorry. This was a lot, and I didn't expect to say this much. And to be clear, I am not trying to shit on you or your interests if you like the MCU or consider yourself an MCU fan. If it is your thing, then I won't tell you to not watch and enjoy the thing that brings you joy. Even I will fully admit that I still hold the MCU quite dearly to my heart in spite of the fact that I truly hate what it is becoming and what it represents now. I just wanted to share my thoughts on the matter after seeing this post. I do not wish to take away from the happiness of others and I hope you have a great day.)

Matt Damon explains why they don't make movies like they used to. Pls watch.

[essagandana]

Down the Rabbit Hole

[OC-Insert] It almost seemed fitting that after a life spent reading, and later writing fiction, she'd end up reborn in one. Once-Evelyn, Now-Alice, plans to make it further than 25 years into her new life. Figuring out that her older brother is that James Bond… throws a bit of a wrench in her vague plans of recreating her Before-life. Dealing with (read: suppressing) the issues she has from Before-her's life, she sets herself up a life where she can keep an eye on her reckless brother, and make sure that the stories Before-her remembers didn't just take artistic licence with his improbable survivals. Her brother was going to live to see retirement, dammit!

Chapter 1

Setting The Scene, or, Pre-Canon Shenanigans

Alice Bond is born in the early hours of the morning, November 14th, 1972. She is the second child, and only daughter, of Monique and Andrew Bond. She is preceded by an older brother, James, born April 13th, 1968

Evelyn Lott was born late at night, December 21st, 1999. She was the first child of Jessamine and Hamish Lott. She was followed by two younger brothers; Meredith, born March 25th, 2002, and Lucian, born August 31st, 2010.

Monique and Andrew Bond die in a climbing accident whilst in the Aiguille de la Persévérance, 1979. Alice is 7 years old.

Evelyn Lott died in a plane crash, bought down mid-flight by three terrorists with smartphones, 2024. Evelyn was 25 years old.

---

Alice Greer Bond is seven when her new life shatters like so much spun glass.

She's with James, trying to focus on the conjugation sheet she's supposed to be doing whilst he tries to cajole her into sneaking out the window and exploring. Or going into the garage. Or building a pillow fort. Or sneaking through the priest hole to the chapel. Or- He stops abruptly as the door opens, but breathes a sigh of relief when it's revealed to be just Kincaid. He turns back to her, mischievous grin in place, but it slowly furrows into a frown at the look on her face. She's not taken her eyes off Kincaid since she looked up. Her face slowly gets more ashen, as he stands in the doorway, running the brim of his hat through his hands, face set, eyes achingly sad for them. James slowly looks between the two of them. For an endless moment, no-one says anything. Clutching her brother's arm with a death grip, she clears her throat.

"Kincaid. What… What happened?"

"I jus' got a call from the base camp on that mountain ya parents went ta climb." He halts, seemingly unwilling to continue. Her grip on James' arm tightens. She stares at the groundskeeper, unblinkingly, until he heaves a sigh and continues. She feels James jolt back beside her as he realises what coming.

"There… There was a storm. Abou' a week back. And… ya parents never checked back in. So. They sent a recovery team up after them, but. They didn't…"

He trails off again, gaze dropping. She feels her blood turn to ice, numbing her mind. Distantly, she realises she can feel James shaking. There's a frenzied, desperate thing in his voice as he speaks up.

"V-Very funny Kincaid. When are they coming back? If there was a storm… they have to come back. They have to."

Kincaid doesn't respond for a moment, desolately still. He looks up, passed her to him.

"Oh Lad…"

"NO! No, you're lying, you have to be lying! They can't be-"

She can almost feel how his voice cuts out, unable to finish the sentence. They can't be dead. Turning her gaze, she sees the wild, grieving thing that's taken control of him. Abruptly bursting into motion, he rips his arm from her grip, and sprints away. She can almost hear the wounded howl trying to tear out of his throat. She sits where he left her, numb with shock. Not again, is all she can think. Not again.

Kincaid's large hand on her shoulder jolts her back into herself. Looking up, she attempts a smile of gratitude, but knows it comes out as more of a grimace. Blinking, her mind catches up with current events. She bursts from her seat and tears after her brother, a cry of Jem! on her lips. Eventually, she catches up to him. He's in the priest hole, halfway between the house and the chapel. She can hear him almost as soon as she enters. Biting her lip, she climbs back out to get- Kincaid is in the entrance to the room. When she meets his gaze, he holds up a torch and a blanket. With a watery smile, she flings her arms around him in a brief hug, takes the offering and climbs back down to join her brother.

It hurts her soul to hear the almost keening noise he's releasing as she gets close. She scuffs a pebble to make sure he can hear her approach. He doesn't even look up, his pain almost subvocal. She drops down next to him, draping the blanket around the two of them. Reaching an arm out around him, she leans against his side. Waiting.

Not long after, he shifts, hauling her into a hug, burying his tears in her shoulder. She feels something fracture. Clinging just as tightly, she buries her face in the junction of his neck, twin trails of tears trickling down her face. Neither of the move for a long time.

It takes two days for them to return to the lodge.

---

When they resurface, grubby, exhausted, and emotionally drained, they've changed. James is more reckless, more devil-may-care in his antics. Harder than he was before. Colder. She's quieter than she'd been in a while. She throws herself into what she remembers from Before. Once is coincidence. Twice is happenstance. Three times is a conspiracy. Her brother's name. The lodge's name. Their parents' death. There is no more pretending that this is anything other than what it is.

She can't afford to slack off. This is her brother.

---

Athair had arranged for James to go to Eton when he was twelve. She had almost a year left of home-tutoring with him before he'd be gone for most of the year. She refuses to lose anyone else. She's lost enough people, she can't lose him as well. She has until she turns eleven to have near total say over what she's learning, so that can be put on the back-burner until she loses access to her brother.

The basic outline of a plan forming in her mind, she gently bullies Kincaid. He grudgingly lets them spend time with the guns, helping them learn how to shoot everything from hunting rifles to hand guns. She swallows thickly at the sharp reminder of Athair, who couldn't shoot very well with anything but a hunting rifle, yet collected guns of all shapes and sizes anyway. As well as small explosives. James takes to it with a grim determination, but quickly becomes a very good shot. He seems to take an almost savage pleasure in hitting all the targets with every gun he can get his hands on. She settles for being a good-enough shot with the rifles.

Kincaid won't let them learn to shoot without also learning how to maintain the guns, which leads nicely to her wheedling him into teaching them about cars and heavy machinery. James doesn't have as much interest in that yet, but she learns, with an almost religious fervour, how to fix engines. She knows James will pay more attention when he can get his hands on the parts of something fast, and intends to make sure she can keep him from crashing immediately when he does.

She'd worry a little more about how focused she was becoming on making sure that her brother stayed alive, stayed safe if she didn't have a fair idea what was coming in his life. Also, he was starting to display similar tendencies. Subverting authority, learning things he really probably shouldn't as an eleven-year-old, keeping track of her, of her safety as though she'll disappear when he loses sight of her.

---

Both of them are a little… upset when James leaves for Eton.

Whilst he's there, he stats to hone his ability to get out of, on top of, and around buildings without detection. He doesn't want to spend all night in his room, so he starts by climbing out of his window and shimmying down the drainpipe. He doesn't get very far the first few times, being unceremoniously returned to his room by staff. It isn't until he tries going up that he starts to get away with it. It isn't until he falls asleep on a flat portion of the roof and get seen by one of the professors that he really starts getting into trouble for it. He likes the freedom of it, so he doesn't stop. The staff are tearing their hair out over trying to get one twelve-year-old boy to behave. The rest of his class seem to find it irritating and amusing by turns. His letters to her reveal his smugness at their exasperation. Visits see details revealed, laughter shared, and plots made.

The maid thing was an accident. It was also the final straw.

He gets kicked out at the end of the year.

---

When James comes home from Eton after being kicked out, head held high, Kincaid just kind of… sighs heavily. He's started the application for Fettes. He also seems to think that he's been hiding the fact that custody issues are starting to rear their heads due to inheritance issues. Alice found some of the records, copies of Mueti and Athair's wills, the bills, things like that. She's glad that they planned well for their education. Aunt Charmain is their guardian in name, but that's not going enormously well. She's starting to resent being stuck in the country with a niece and nephew she barely knows, and doesn't seem to want to know. Kincaid might've though he kept the details of it, and how he's desperately trying to find them another legal guardian a secret, but Alice knows. She knows. And she will never forgive Charmain Bond for the words spoken when she didn't realise anyone could hear.

Alice is overjoyed to get to spend more time with her brother. As kind of a precocious nine-year-old, she drags James off to see what she'd been doing that he's missed. Presenting him with the engine she's fixed, he's suitably impressed. He's more confused than anything else when she shows him the partially deconstructed Apple II in what was Athair's office, surrounded by reams of notes and books and manuals. She'd been finding trying to understand variants on 70's tech much harder to do than she'd thought it'd be. She's been dreaming longingly of the smartphones, tablets, and touchscreen laptops she grew up with Before. She misses the internet.

---

She misses her Before-family like a missing limb, like a hole in her chest, even now. Even after dying, and being born, and gaining a new family, and losing half of it. She misses Merry, who was the grumpiest, snarkiest person ever, who'd've been able to make her laugh. She misses Luc, who'd start babbling on about technological advancements, and prototype AI, and how smartphones and internet worked, bright-eyed and exited. She misses her Before-parents, Madre who taught English to Diplomat's children and Papa who ranted and raved about physics. She misses Before-her, the aspiring author, working in records. She misses her Before-home, her Before-life, with its much simpler, easier times.

She misses it so much sometimes she can barely breathe.

Those are the times Kincaid offers rough affection and her favourite foods. The times James looks at her with ill-concealed worry in his eyes, and tries to tease her out of her funk, pull her into adventures, expeditions. The times he just sits with her, a solid, unobtrusive presence, not demanding anything, just there. She can't help but love him a little more for the fact he never trues to force her to explain it. She has no idea what she'd say if he did.

She decides, this time, that she's going to be productive about it. Before-her, Lynn, had had jewellery, and wall art, but also a couple of tattoos. So Alice sit down, and starts planning tattoos. She's pretty sure the law as it stands prohibits tattoos until 18, so she has 9 years to plan them out perfectly. As she stares down at the basics of a design for each part of her, everything she's lost, she feels… lighter. Like Before is letting her go - or at least, is letting her live her life.

With light heart, and lighter smile, she bounces off to go catch her brother. He's only going to be here five more weeks after all.

---

They go on a skiing/mountain climbing trip after James' first year at Fettes (which he definitely seems to prefer, she notes, pleased). The only thing that gets her on that plane is the knowledge that technology isn't sufficiently advanced enough for the same thing that killed Before-her to happen. They bump into the Oberhausers. James is pleased, remembering group trips with Mueti, Athair and them. Alice is… a little warier, recalling how the story goes. But, they meet up, and spend time together, and it's all actually quite pleasant. Hannes takes James under his wing again after three years of no contact. Franz is… not particularly happy. He hides it well, under jokes, but there is a flash of something when he sees his father acting around James in a manner usually reserved for him.

Alice wasn't expecting to like Franz at all, memories of the story filling her mind. But, actually… He was wonderfully sarcastic, and clever. He just had a bit of a mean streak. As Monique and Andrew had died when she was seven, and thus too young to have come on any of the trips, she'd only met the Oberhausers occasionally. Franz, being 8 years older than James, and thus 12 years older than her, had never really been someone she'd spent much time with. On this trip, however, she got to know him a bit better.

She also doesn't miss the considering looks Hannes occasionally gets when he thinks none of them can see him. She'd heard him talking to who she thinks was Kincaid about them, and custody, but she's not certain. As she spends more time with them, she starts to appreciate them.

Hannes is genuinely nice, some of the time. He might be a little condescending and misogynistic, but she's a nine-verging-on-ten-year-old girl in the 80's. It's kind of to be expected. And he listens, and tries to spend time with her, despite clearly floundering on how to treat a little girl. He gets on much better with James. And James is laughing, and smiling, and losing some of the brittlest edges to his eyes and grin, so she'd be willing to overlook a lot more than she is.

Franz… Franz is interesting. He's clever, so clever, and in training to become military, and has a degree in Psychology. He's also got quite the head for business, and is more than capable of charming the resort staff into giving him what he wants. But there's that flash of malice, when he looks at James and Hannes together. There's the cruel glee when he tricks the other people at the resort into doing something that's a bad idea. There's the way most of his emotions look just a little off, like he's wearing a painted face instead of his real one.

She teases him. It's all she can think to do. Poke at him, distract him, until he's more focused on (slightly cruel) banter with her than he is on the fact that Hannes spends a lot of time with James now, on what was supposed to be a trip with just the two of them. It sort of works. He seems to swing between looking through her, and looking at her as a curiosity. She needles him into teaching her chess. She wheedles him into sitting with her in the café area and judging people. She asks him for information about places he's been, things he's done. She tells him about reworking the Apple II, learning how to put the engine of the Rover back together. Sometimes it works, and the spark in his eye is interest, or (cruel) enjoyment. Sometimes it doesn't, and the spark is malice, or he's in a black mood, and presenting endless, empty charm.

She makes sure that Franz and James don't spend too long alone together. She gets a little of Hannes attention, gets him to help teach her how to ski. She grabs James and drags him off to learn snowboarding with her, giving the Oberhausers some uninterrupted time together. It's more of a rush than the basic skiing that she's been doing is. James seems to enjoy it too.

At the end of the holiday, he talks with James; Alice wasn't invited, but can guess what it was about. He looks thoughtful on the way back to Skyfall, and drags her with him to talk to Kincaid. By the time he returns for his next year at Fettes, it's organised. They're the legal wards of Hannes Oberhauser.

Charmain doesn't even wait two days to go off on a trip.

---

Life as Hannes ward is… odd. She's stayed at Skyfall Lodge, which she's thankful for, but he calls her at least every week to check up on her. She's been left mostly to her own devices. The film that seems to be here's version of Star Wars IV premiers; on a holiday, she goes to see it with James and Hannes on a home weekend. 'The Balance: Second Coming' seems to be similar idea to Star Wars. The overall ideas and story are roughly the same, even if the terms and designs are different. She wonders for a moment what that means for other fiction she remembers. Flicking through the television guide when she gets back to see if she can find a version of Doctor Who, she finds 'Master of Time'. Which… tales of wacky adventures from the Master's point of view? She decides that she's going to start watching it. Wonders if this means there'll be a book series about young Dumbledore or Tom Riddle. She resolves to keep an eye out for anything like it.

James told her he'd started boxing. She smiled and told him not to lose too many brain cells. He'd cuffed the back of her head in response, but they'd both laughed.

She'd asked for, and received a Commodore 64 personal computer for her birthday. She'd read the manual, gone over the notes from the frankenstein-ed Apple II and figured out how to take it apart and put it back together. Getting hold of information about the programming was harder, but far from impossible. She made sure she kept meticulous notes as she went along, to ensure that she could refer back to them later if need be. Her heart ached a little, thinking of Luc and how much he'd've enjoyed it. Shaking herself out of her Before-memories, she got back to work. She would never be in that situation again, and that meant she needed to stay on top of how the tech was developing and it's capabilities. She thought she didn't really need to start worrying until the late 90's to 2000's, but better to be over-prepared than under.

---

Attending Benenden after years of almost-isolation is jarring. It's busy, and loud, and she's not sure how she feels about it. She picks up Before-her's southern accent and hides her own Scottish one. It's not a large school, which she's thankful for. But it is an all-girls boarding school, which… presents its own idiosyncrasies. It's not intolerable, just different.

She joins the drama society, but refuses to set foot under a spotlight. She dresses sets, dresses faces, dresses actresses. The other girls are confused by her adamance, but deign to allow her assistance. She remembers Merry, and decides that she'll keep this role. Remembering Before is more of a dull ache now than a stabbing wound. She thinks maybe she's started to heal.

Chemistry is fascinating in a way it never was Before. Mathematics and the Sciences have far more of a hold on her than they did Before-her. She delights in the reactions, in the calculations. In the ability to turn small, seemingly unconnected things into something else entirely. The first thing she tries to make herself is the 'homebrew' liquid latex Merry got Before-her to help make, for use by small-time theatre groups. It came out perfectly. She grins widely and makes plans to reproduce as much of the cosmetics palette as she can remember.

It becomes the thing people associate her with, unusual cosmetics; slowly, she learns how to turn a person into somebody else.

---

Alice is 13, and surrounded by strangers in the South, far from what she's ever known. Her brother is 16, almost a legal adult. He's won boxing competitions, gone on mountaineering trips, taken part in as many dangerous, adrenaline junkie activities as he's come across. He has one more year at Fettes before he leaves. Before-her's memories whisper of a dangerous life. She knows in her bones that he's planning on a military career. She can't stop him, can't chain him down, clip his wings, force him to be some tame thing instead of what he is. Or. Well. She could. She knows that if she panics at him, weeps, speaks of her terror of his dying… But she won't. She'd never be able to live with herself for trying to break him like that. And she'd lose him if she tried.

---

When they returned to Skyfall that summer, it was to a surprise from Kincaid - a beat up Suzuki Katana motorcycle. James visibly fell in love once they got it up and moving. They spent a lot of time on the racing bike, learning how to ride it across the roads and moors surrounding the lodge. The same way they'd sat in the front of the Rover, learning first-hand how to drive it. They visit the nearby village more, on their own, this summer, than they have before. Both of them adore the rush.

This is the first time she witnesses her brother flirting. It's clearly light-hearted, only in the pub, chatting up the waitresses whilst they're having lunch. He's charming, but his lines are ridiculous. Yet still there are pretty girls fluttering and falling all over him. He even gets cooed at by the mothers and grandmothers for being such a charming young man, such a good big brother. Alice is mildly horrified. Slightly awed at the ease with which her brother can apparently wrap women around his finger, but horrified. It even works when it fails. He gets laughed at, but they still do what he was angling for. It's equal parts impressive and icky.

The less said about the nights he goes out by himself, returning the next morning in rumpled clothes, the better. She has no need to know about her brother's sex life.

She's almost thankful when they go back to the resort Hannes works at even if Franz still gives her slight chills when he looks at James.

---

Alice has finally started making use of the things Mueti talked about whilst she was sat in her dressing room as a little girl. How to use clothes and make-up as armour, reputation and rumour as weapons, read people and make them dismiss her. She blends this with the knowledge that Before-her had received from Madre about Diplomats, and had earned working in the government. She chooses her role, and hones it until the mask she wears is diamond hard and mirror bright, preventing anyone from seeing more of her than she shows, from ever seeing that there is more of her than is shown. She starts preparing for what is to come, knowing that she can't just sit back and let him die.

Faux-nonchalantly, she presents James with a belated 17th birthday gift - his official gift, joint from her and Kincaid, was the keys to  the refurbished form of Athair's Aston Martin, with strict instructions that he gain his driver's licence before he even think to set foot in the car - a forged identity, proclaiming him to be a 21-year-old called Alex Rider with a gun permit, and pilot lessons. He accepts the pilot lessons (small planes and helicopters) before noticing the extra documentation. He flips through it slowly, before raising his gaze to her face. She is studiously looking at the wall behind him. He sighs long and low, before wrapping her in a hug.

"It's not something I need to worry about? The reason for this?"

She feels him waving the papers behind her. Face buried in his shoulder, she shakes her head, almost falling apart with how relieved she is that he isn't pushing it. She wouldn't be able to explain the reasons for her actions in a way that would satisfy him. She's pleased that she doesn't have to try; she doesn't think she could lie to him about something so important, but wouldn't know what else to do. Swallowing thickly, she responds.

"No, Jem. It isn't. Promise."

"Aight, luv. Thanks."

He squeezes her extra tight before releasing her, looking carefully at her face, before grinning and regaling her with hammed up accounts of his (mis)adventures. Neither of them speak of the fact that Alex Rider is an orphan and an only child.

---

James had been 18 for 3 days when he gets a call from the resort Hannes worked at. Both Oberhausers are missing, presumed dead in a sudden storm that whited out the whole resort. He gets another call three weeks later, proclaiming that the two bodies have been recovered.

Alice had been expecting and dreading this information in equal parts. She doesn't notice how James' eyes narrow at her slightly off response. (It's part of why, decades later, it's so easy for him to believe Franz is still alive. Her response was upset, but also conflicted. She'd gotten on fairly well with both of them, and was a 14-year-old girl. He thought she should've been more distraught over the whole thing.) She knows that there's nothing to be done for it now, and throws herself into her studies, focusing most on Chemistry, Computers and PE. She refuses to be unprepared for her future.

James, ever the master of witty quips and reading her from miles away, sends her letters about his training at the Britannia Royal Naval College that leave her in stitches. She just tells him either to be so careful he doesn't get caught, so charming others won't let him take the fall, or so ostentatious that no-one can actually believe it was done.

---

Once completing her schooling, Alice goes on to work for a cosmetics company. As a result of the factories and offices being spread multinationaly, she learns some new languages, as well as brushing up on old ones. Due to her learning by immersion, James starts to pick up bits and pieces of them almost by accident as she writes to him in the language of the country she's currently based in. He returns the favour; part of his training has included terms at top British Universities, gaining him a First in Oriental Languages. Their communications start jumping languages as they grow more comfortable with them.

On her 18th birthday, James took her out drinking, being on leave at the time. He nearly breaks the hand of the man who tries to aggressively (unsuccessfully) flirt with her. She slaps his arm, but shoots him a grateful look none-the-less. The next day, recovering from a truly obscene amount of alcohol, she drags him to a tattoo parlour with her, to start getting some of the designs she wanted.  She starts with the blue withered rose, aware that she's only going to get the line-art of it today. At the raised eyebrows, she huffed but explained it.

"Honestly Jem, don't give me that look. I like flower language, aight? A withered rose means death before dishonour, and a blue rose means impossibility. I thought it fit… me, ya know?"

She lies face down on the tattoo chair, raising the bottom of her top. The rose is going to follow the line of her spine. James sits down next to her, still looking intrigued.

"Oh? So what am I then?"

Hissing lightly at the cold of the alcohol to clean her skin for the tattooing to begin, she turns her face to the side to face him, slight grin curling the side of her mouth up. She doesn't even pretend to think about it before responding.

"Laurel leaves and snapdragon. And possibly nasturium."

Smirking, she settles in to her chair, prepared to wait him out and make him ask. Huffing unimpressed, but with amusement dancing across his face, he asks her to elaborate. Grin fully-fledged, she proceeds to do so.

"Laurel leaves denote victory, Jem, and snapdragons mean strength and concealment. And you are very good at hiding precisely how strong you are. Nasturium… that's battles, and journeys, and patriotism. I'll be honest, the first two I've been planning to have for a while. The third is new as of you deciding to join Her Majesty's Service."

He lets loose a bark of laughter. "HA! And what's the flower for ambition, luv? I'll need a reminder of you whilst you're off galivanting around the world."

"Hmm, ambitious would be a violet or a calendula. If, however, you want ambitious woman-" Her eyes sparkling with suppressed mirth, her tone affectionate "-it would be a white hollyhock instead."

At her next appointment, to get the colour and detailing put in, he comes as well, flower design in hand. He gets a greyscale design on the back of his shoulder that he doesn't let her see. The next letter she gets from him includes a photograph - a healed tattoo consisting of snapdragons and white hollyhocks.

---

Over the next few years, Alice acquires a total of 12 tattoos.

Some are visible to pretty much everyone.

Nobody ever sees all of them.

---

Her brother starts making eyes at pretty people, chatting them up with cheesy lines and drinks. She loses track of the number of beautiful women he takes back to his hotel room, or follow home on a night out. She starts to see the pattern to his conquests - the ones he follows home are pretty, certainly, but they're not anything special. The ones he brings back to the hotel, the ones he spends more than just a night of sex with… they're clever. They're sharp-eyed, sharper-tongued, and quick-witted. He likes them better if they can keep up with him, or outclass him in some way. She still doesn't meet many of them, but she only ever gets introduced to the clever ones.

He picks up men as well. He's a lot subtler about it, and it happens far less frequently, but she sees how his eyes sometimes trail after men at the bar. She almost laughs - his taste in men is much the same as his taste in women. Good-looking, and intelligent. She doesn't get introduced to any of the men he brings back, until one morning she accidently comes into the shared part of their suite before his partner for the night has quite left. They both freeze, staring at each other for a moment, until James follows the man out of his room.

Blinking, she smiles at them both, before getting on with her morning routine, teasing her brother and his lover until they start moving. He's certainly a very good looking man, and she can appreciate the chiaroscuro when seeing them side by side. Tonio is all long, lean dark tan, and chocolate curls, compared to her brothers golden skin and hair. He's also a very cheerful person, light-hearted banter flying through the room. He's charming enough to match her brother, and is the conquest that stays the longest that trip. James stops being quite so paranoid about keeping his male lovers an unknown, treating them more like the women he brings back. His standards for men remain higher than his standards for women. At times she thinks that his only requirements for getting with women are willing, and in possession of a pulse.

---

In 1991, laptops and internet burst into being. Ever paranoid, and more aware of the damage that can be done with the developing technology than anybody alive, she ensures that she stays on top of the technological upswing. It's getting more difficult, as computers are getting far more complex, but also easier; this is closer to the type of tech Before-her remembers using.

With all of the travelling her job has her doing, she's made contacts in several countries. She's also saved enough money to make her comfortable with striking out on her own. She's learned enough tricks of the trade and formulations to be able to tweak standard forms into what she wants. She starts a small company, focused on making cosmetics that can be used either for vanity purposes, or costume.

She also notices a couple of the people she spends time with flinch at loud noises, and always seem to be bruised. Riding ahead of the curve on cyber security, and pulling on Before-her's memories of working in the records department for the government, she discreetly offers them a way out, if they need it. A new identity, with cheap and flexible repayment. Some of them smile blandly at her and pretend they have no idea what she's talking about. Some of them ignore her. But some. Some get in touch with her at odd times, hold hushed conversations with her. And she helps set them up with a false job transfer overseas, where they tragically die in an accident, whilst setting them up with a new identity somewhere else, with job prospects that match their experience. Some are male, some female. Some move alone, others with children in tow.

It's about this time she starts to make a bit of a name for herself as an identity maker. Promptly deciding that no-one can be allowed to link her actions to herself, she all but removes her legal identity, gets a reputation for being a bit eccentric, and sets up her own false identity who's only known as Chet, who sets up identities. A lot of the identity side of the business happens online or through proxies, so no-one knows who, precisely, Chet is.

'Chet' came from Cheshire Cat, chosen for the irony of having a disappearing person being the one to make others disappear. She also accidentally makes a bit of a name for herself as a small-time hacker. She starts signing that work Toothsome, for the Cheshire Cat's toothsome grin. The fact that the names come from one of her favourite stories is inconsequential, of course.

---

Whilst on leave in 1991, Alice and James visit Portugal. Through a series of events she doesn't fully understand, nor want to ask about, she meets Tracy, a battered widow, whom James saved from drowning. They spend a fair amount of time together, during which it comes out that she is the heiress of a crime syndicate. Alice and James exchange a few dubious looks, but, well… they've never exactly been stellar examples of legal good. They're chaotic good, at best. So they spend time with her, trying to help her start to move through her depression. Alice watches fondly, but guardedly, as James and Tracy get closer.

Eventually her father, Marc-Ange, catches wind of what's happening with his only daughter, and "invites" them to his villa in Corsica. He is an effusive host, pleased that 'His Teresa' is coming out of her funk. He privately asks James to continue courting his daughter, as she is now more cheerful, and offers him the full resources of the Draco Syndicate as incentive. James is unimpressed. He and Alice both start writing to her, however. Alice gradually sees both of the two's letters to her start to include more and more about the other. Affection clearly grows and shows between the two of them. All of James' leaves start being taken in Corsica, with the Dracos, rather than travelling as they had before. Alice and Marc-Ange bond over seeing their favourite people slowly falling in love, and joint frustration at neither of them making a move.

Alice and Marc-Ange end up spending a lot of time together to give the love-sick fools privacy, hoping to induce a confession. They went for meals, he showed her around the famous landmarks of the island, and they attended concerts in the Eglise de Saint Jean Baptiste. He also catered to her curiosity about weaponry, and encouraged her to consult with his Research and Development team. Both sides came out pleased with their new explosives and poisons. She also made an offhand offer to help set up any of his people that needed a legal identity in England.

---

James finally proposed to Tracy in 1994, after keeping everyone around them in frustrated anticipation for three years. Marc-Ange hosted a magnificent engagement party, allowing him to show off to all his syndicate and allies. He also organised the most lavish wedding possible for his daughter and his new son. Eglise de Saint Jean Baptise was covered in flowers, and filled with jubilation as the two married.

Marc-Ange presented the happy couple with a Jaguar XJ220C as a wedding present, and sent them off to enjoy their honeymoon. Tragedy struck not long after their departure. Gunshot clearly audible to the remaining wedding party, Alice, Marc-Ange, and his security drove towards the sound like hounds from hell. An unknown car was speeding towards them, and careened off the side of the cliff when it collided with the incoming vehicles. Scrambling down the cliffside saw Alice reach the flipped car. Breaking through the glass, she saw that the men inside were dead. Snarling, she reached about inside until she came up with a rifle. Throwing it behind her for the Draco security to collect when they caught up to her, she stilled as she found a ring on the driver's left middle finger. Removing and pocketing it, she checked the gunman for it as well. Finding him without one, she frowned, but managed to find a diary and cheap phone which she chucks behind her as well.

At this point, the security team have arrived, and start to drag her away from the car as it's started to leak smoke like it's going to burn. Being ushered back up to the cars, she freezes when she sees James. He's sitting, shell-shocked, gazing at nothing. There's a stretcher covered in a white sheet in front of him and to the side. She spies a familiar shoe poking out the bottom. Rearing back in shock, her gaze jumps, taking in the destroyed windscreen of the jaguar, Marc-Ange's broken-hearted face, James’ blank look. Moving forward slowly, she squeezes Marc-Ange's shoulder as she passes him. Crouching in front of her brother, she tilted his face up to meet his gaze. Her heart tightened even further at the look in his eyes. Sitting next to him she turned his face to her neck and wrapped her arms around him. Slowly, he seemed to come back to himself slightly, arms rising, then suddenly clinging to her in a crushing grip. She could feel the hot streaks running down her neck. She held her position, hiding his sorrow, his 'weakness' as he perceives it, until he was ready to put himself back together enough to face the others.

He shuddered gently, before straightening. As he pulled away from her embrace, she saw his face hardening, becoming flinty, hard and unforgiving as steel. She watched the beginnings of fire and bloodlust rise in him, tries to cut it off with the information that the assailants are already dead. She watches as he hides the feral thing behind his eyes away, but it's not gone. Just waiting. He and Marc-Ange work in what should've been mildly terrifying synchronicity as they track down and destroy the guild that hired out the gunman. They can't find anything on the driver. No name, no history, no employer, nothing. She watches them snarl and rage, but eventually give up, dissatisfied.

Later, in her room, she considers the ring she pulled from the driver. She swallows her rage, lets it flow through her, banked but not burnt out. Her eyes shine with impotent fury. Even with Before-her's knowledge of how the story goes, she is helpless to do anything. She can't find Franz, or his people. She can't do anything. In the end, she hides the ring in the lining of her shoulder bag, and decides not to tell James about it. All she has is a ring. She can't explain the rest.

---

She and James never go back to Corsica after that.

---

When James gets recruited to a branch of the SIS in 1998, he all but begs her to remove her legal identity completely. She acquiesces, leaving all records to show James Bond as an orphaned only child. No attachments. It takes a good three months after her changes for anyone to go looking for other family members. James never said who his mysterious penpal was, so when she takes a peek into his MI6 file, she nearly laughs herself sick when she sees that she's presumed to be a paramour. Then she cries as she remembers Tracy.

She sets her new life up as Alice Liddell.

---

On December 21st, 1999, she gets absolutely shit-faced drunk. She looks at the birth registry the next day to see if anyone called Evelyn Lott was born. She can't decide if she's pleased or not that no such person exists. James watches her worriedly for the rest of the holiday after that, even if she tries to pretend that it never happened. She's mostly thankful that he put up with being aggressively snuggled for the day after with no explanations.

As James leaves, he presses his dog tags into her hand. Something about the look on his face, the way she can't quite identify it, the intensity of it, halts any questions she might've asked. She nods solemnly, unsure what exactly she's agreed to. The dog tags get dropped around her neck, down her shirt. They're never taken off.

---

In 2002 she starts sneaking her way through the cyber-security of MI6 on a regular basis. She keeps track of her brother's file, and starts editing some of the more frivolous coding in an attempt to get them to up their firewalls. Disturbingly, no-one seems to notice. She finds traces of someone who started making a name for themselves about five years earlier, known as Rata. He's started making more waves since, but the coding she'd seeing would have to be older than that. She's too busy chasing the holes in security to pay much attention to the pieces of code, though she has a niggling feeling that there's something she's missing.

Horrified to discover that she's starting to lose track of the details of Before-her's stories, she writes the abridged form of them down. (She never does check the programming. She regrets it later.)

---

She's been paranoid about the security of her personal tech, but has managed to secure a pair of cheap phones and a headset. The headset she links with her phone, certain calls coming straight through to her. The other she gives to James, with instructions to call her on that phone if he ever needs anything, such as an identity, weaponry, her company, etc. Calls from that phone always come straight through to her. Remembering Before-her's stories, she also insists that he memorise the number for her phone so that he can still call her if anything happens to his.

Her small cosmetics company has started to expand, as has her more illicit business in new identities. She has 3 members of Marc-Ange's Syndicate hiding in the cover of her company whilst they check the legitimacy of some rumours. She and Marc-Ange have kept up contact somewhat through the years since Tracy's death. James couldn't bear to. From Marc-Ange she receives whispers of things coming, of a madman, of a shadowy organisation that no-one can pinpoint. She sends back rumours of people moving in on his territory, of American agents attempting to infiltrate his number, of a group she's only heard of as Quantum. Any information relevant to James' life that comes to her reaches him. The only thing she's kept from him for any length of time is the ring she pulled from the driver all those years ago. She mentions the unknown affiliation when talking about the shadowy organisation. James is… not very impressed, but accepts her reasoning for delaying the reveal.

There are two major outside events in her life during 2006. One is that her brother gains Double-Oh status. James Bond, 007. The other is a brilliant new programmer appearing, known only as Query.

---

Then  she finds out he's being sent to a high-stakes poker game in Montenegro, held at Casino Royale.

[uniquejay-blog1]

If I Was - (방탄소년단)  정국: Jungkook x Reader {ANGST}

Word count: 2024 Date written: 4/29/2017 Genre: A kitten named Angst Inspiration: My constant social anxiety, fear, and dreams

더 나은 세상을 만들고 꿈을 이루십시오. 

“(Y/n)!”

You turned your head to grin at the six boys. Clicking the door closed, you kicked off your shoes and clambered into the BTS dorm.

Hoseok, who had called your name, stood up to help you with the bags of food.

“Ya, I buy you guys food but I only get Hoseok’s greeting?” You puffed playfully.

The other boys sitting in front of the game console laughed in reply and quickly paused their competition. They shuffled towards you and exchanged hugs, ruffling your hair and smiling brightly.

As they opened the food bags and began to dig in, you looked around for the missing member.

With a raised eyebrow, you asked curiously, “Hey, where’s Jungkook?”

Taehyung motioned to the shared room of Rapmon and JK. He didn’t bother to say a word. He knew that you knew exactly what he meant. With a sigh, you gazed at the closed door. With a trained ear, you could hear the muffled laughs and enthusiastic conversations coming from Jungkook’s mouth.

Gathering up your courage, you forced yourself to walk towards that closed door. That closed door that you’ve been trying to open for so long.

Knock knock

“Hey, Jungkook? Food’s here, come out and play games with us!” Your lips quivered.

There was a muffled ‘sorry’ and a couple footsteps, until the aforementioned man gruffly opened the door. With an apologetic grin, he nodded his head and stretched out his arms with puppy eyes. You smiled softly and nodded slowly, shuffled to the living room, picking up one of the takeout containers, you filled it with all of Jungkook’s favorites and placed some napkins on the side.

The members watched your form disappear into the corner, as if feeling your pain permeate their own souls.

You forced an energetic grin onto your face and held out the container. Jungkook thanked you quickly and gently closed the door, resuming his over-the-phone conversation from before. You stood in front of his room for a solid minute, not knowing what to do.

“I’m going out for a bit. Go to sleep if I don’t come back, don’t wait for me.” You mumbled, grabbing a jacket and the dorm keys.

Jimin gazed at your back and sighed. “Come into my room when you come back. Stop sleeping on the couch when we’re sharing rooms.”

You lifted up a hand to wave and affirm Jimin’s words, heading out into the cold air of the night.

Now...where was I? Ah...that’s right. Explaining the reasons behind your pain.

You met BTS at Kcon two years ago. They had just performed and walked offstage, watching as you took the stage next. They seemed to be stuck in your performance, listening to your voice and movements with the backup dancers. Your song was incredible and mind-numbing. There was clear talent and emotion in every aspect of your performance.

As you walked off the stage, sweaty and happy, they caught up to you before you headed out to meet fans.

“Hey, that was incredible.”

That single phrase ended up bringing the two of you together: (Y/n) and BTS. They got your number and decided on trying to create an album together, much to your surprise.

It wasn’t long until a year passed, and your bond with the Korean boyband was stronger than ever. Although you were a Korean-American and lived in America as a Youtuber and artist, the long-distance friendship you had with BTS left ample time for the both of you to get priorities straight and still connect.

Soon, the time to go on a tour approached. You had planned to go on tour to perform your new album and promote your movie, as well as connect with your beloved fans.

The best thing about that tour?

Korea was on the list.

You flew to Korea for the tour, for exactly 6 months. It was the best part of the tour. You were picked up by Yoongi and Jin, and the members fought over who was going to share their room with you. Funny enough, the 3 member-shared room won.

During this time, you realized that Jungkook was not usually with BTS. You were confused, and asked Taehyung and Jimin about it. They explained that he had actually gotten a girlfriend and had become much more absorbed in her than anything else.

Unfortunately for you, you had developed a crush on the maknae. However, hiding said feelings were as easy as fake-smiling. After all, you’ve only had one crush, who “crush”ed you with rejection. Hearing that Jungkook had a girlfriend shocked you and hurt you. But as his best friend, you would always support him.

No matter how much it hurt.

So now, back in the present, you ended up all the way at Han River. It was the perfect place to simply sit and contemplate life. But your head was spinning. Closing your eyes, you listened to the faint sound of the waterworks coming from the bridge. Suddenly, all too suddenly, a feminine voice was heard laughing and talking, nearing your rigid body.

Looking up sadly, your eyes widened in surprise as you caught the eyes of the woman nearby. It was Jungkook’s girlfriend. Panic filled you and without another second, your feet had taken you miles away from the river.

Glancing back, you watched her step petitely, avoiding all possibilities of dirt or germs. The lights from the bridge brightened, illuminating her stunning figure on the concrete. With a pang of sadness, you tucked your negative feelings within your heart once again and ran off.

~??? POV~

“Jungkook, come on! (Y/n)’s not that great.” I said.

“She is, you just…”

I didn’t hear the last of Jungkook’s sentence. Speak of the devil, (Y/n) was standing in front of me. But suddenly, she ran away. That made me think for a moment.

“Hey Jungkook?”

“What?”

“Why are we keeping our relationship a secret again?”

“So that ARMYs don’t go crazy and they don’t hurt you or us.”

“I see. I wonder what would happen if someone were to reveal it.”

“I would hate that person forever.”

Perfect.

~Normal POV~

Click

You gently opened and closed the door to BTS’ dorm. It was around 1 am now, just 15 minutes after you had seen Jungkook’s girlfriend.

They must still be talking.

Walking into the living room, you stopped in shock. Jungkook was on the couch, still on the phone. Looks like you were right. He looked up at you, and you quickly looked away, all of the negative feelings resurfacing. Denying your pain and dubbing it selfish, you slipped your shoes back on.

Jungkook called out to you, but you were already out the door again. Planning to sleep on the couch again was a bad idea, but you didn’t want to bother Jimin or the others by walking into their room noisily.

With a sigh, you revved up your car and pulled out of the parking lot, driving to a nearby hotel.

“Thank you, your room number is 153.” The receptionist smiled warmly, handing you a keycard and motioning towards the elevator.

With a curt nod and bow, you turned to walk away. “Wait. You’re (Y/n), aren’t you?”

Surprised, you spun around and grinned. “Yeah, heh. You know me?”

The receptionist smiled brightly and nodded. “I’m a big fan. You’re incredible, you know.”

“Thank you for caring. Would you like to take a picture?”

She nodded quickly and stood up. She looked much younger now. After a picture, she clutched her arm and asked something you never heard before.

“(Y/n)...will you talk to me?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“You just seem troubled. It hurts to see you in pain.”

You smiled.

“Thank you for caring.”

~A little while later~

Dropping your backpack on the floor of the hotel suite, you sat down on the bed. Gazing at the window, you examined the beauty of Seoul. The lights twinkled like stars and the moon cast a warm glow. The nearby water of the Han River reflected every ray of light.

That was the last thing you could remember before drifting off to sleep.

The next day, you checked out of the hotel and said a polite goodbye to the receptionist.

Ping

You unlocked your phone, looking down at the sudden flood of tweets you had received within the last minute.

“5,029 tweets saying #exposed #Jungkookrelationship #(Y/n)betrayal #HanRiver #revealed”

“What the hell?!” You nearly shouted.

#jungkookrelationship #(Y/n)betrayal

What’s...going on?!

As you drove back to the BTS dorm, your heart pounded and your palms were clammy. Fear overtook you and all you could do was breathe as steadily as you could.

Jungkook...please...don’t believe those tweets...I would never, you know I would never do that...even my fans know it isn’t me...there’s so much proof

Ping

From: MonMon - 9:32 AM {(Y/n), where were you last night? Jungkook’s relationship was revealed this morning and the person is claiming to be you}

Ping

From: 치치 - 9:33 AM {Don’t come back, Jungkook is furious and doesn’t believe us when we’re saying it wasn’t you}

Ping

From: 엄마 - 9:33 AM {You might want to come back, even if Jimin told you not to. Jungkook will break something if you don’t get back soon}

You trembled as your car automatically voiced your messages, the awkward pronunciation of the Korean language lessening your fear for just a fraction of a second.

With a deep breath, you pulled into the dorm parking lot.

Click

You opened the door to the dorm, peeking inside. It was as if time stopped. BTS looked at you, Jimin and Hoseok holding Jungkook back, Rapmon crossing his arms and nearly at the wrath of Jungkook, Taehyung holding his phone most likely about to text you, Jin holding his head in his hands, and Yoongi leaning against the wall near the door.

Then, all hell broke loose.

Jungkook charged for you and pulled himself away from Jimin and Hoseok’s grips, and Yoongi pulled you into a protective hug.

“How could you?! YOU KNEW IT MEANT THE WORLD TO ME! SHE MEANT THE WORLD TO ME!”

His screams terrified you. You’ve seen Jungkook mildly upset before, but never like this. You heart hurt and his furious eyes burned holes into your soul.

“I didn’t do it, Jungkook!” You yelled back.

The singer scoffed and shouted, “It was clearly you! Don’t play dumb, it’s not going to work this time!”

“THIS TIME?! When have I ever “played dumb”?!” You were slowly reaching your limit of tolerance.

“When?! You clearly can’t tell you’re always dumb! You can’t even do things right!”

Yoongi gripped you tighter and your body was pushed further into his embrace. You could tell he was getting fed up as well.

“I’m not perfect! And also, this wasn’t even my fault! Why won’t you trust me?”

Jungkook glared harder. “Trust you?! You’re my best friend! How could I trust you if you revealed my private relationship to the entire world?! You’re my BEST FRIEND!”

“If I was your best friend you would know that I would never stoop so low as to destroy your happiness! If I was your best friend you would know that your happiness is my happiness! If I was your best friend you would notice my pain from your ignorance! If I was your best friend you would’ve seen my love for you! But clearly, I’m not!” Your voice finally gave out.

Before you knew it, tears were streaming down your cheeks and you had torn yourself away from Yoongi, bolting out the door with a frozen Jungkook standing in the doorway. Jimin quickly ran after you, easily catching up to your stumbling form.

Your sight was blurry as he collected you in his arms.

“Stop, Jimin, no, just-”

The constant struggling forced him to hold you tighter, trying to calm you down. Breaking out of his strong arms, you shook your head and started to run. What was left with Jimin was your final words.

“Jimin, I can’t...I can’t do this anymore…”

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

Did you know about two years ago i saw King Harry at a local Burger King?

I heard him speak and noticed his accent and so I kept looking at him not feeling he was a Prince of any sort.

My soulmate was screaming "That's the King!!"

I told him "okay that's great but would you shut up? I'm trying to look at This guy. He seems familiar to me and I'm at Burger King, yeah i know. Now just please!"

So I'm looking him up and down and he loos me up and down, King Harry with amusement. And im like dude what you looking at me and laughing for? And I'm all this is a set up and hes figured me out before i figured him out. And i wonder if he's got amnesia, too...

He let's me order ahead of him although he was there first... Although i had went in first, I had gotten in line second after seating my kid as we had not been to that particular Burger King before.

Then I heard him going on and on about making sure the receipt was gotten for him. Because he had forgot and it was placed on the counter and he had people with him.

I was all surely that is not the Prince of Harry he would not care about a receipt!!

Then he tells his friend in a whisper "No you should call me King. Then no one would know who i am."

"You mean us"

I looked up to see King William laughing.

Whoa shit!! My mouth dropped open! It really was them! Or him!

William turned around and his mouth dropped open at the sight of me!

"First i want you to know this wasn't planned. Second i want you to tell me where you have been"

I didn't know who he was talking to so i looked away because i was like not planned my foot and you're not tricking me hostage negotiatiator! We're not gonna be your hostages! Not today!!

I heard stuttering and mumbling. "I was waiting in the car, you didn't answer your text. And i wanted to make sure the drink order was okay"

"How's your drink order ma'am?" Asked Harry

"Great!"

The entire time my daughter is laughing. Ever since she saw Williams jaw drop she was in a fit of giggles.

"We are just doing something incognito. It was nice to see you. Pleasant surprise! And it seems you have raised her right. I hope i do the same. But why have you recognized him but not me?"

"LET'S GO! IT MIGHT NOT BE HER!" William said through clenched teeth.

Which made me laugh because it was them!! Or very good actors!!

And Harry laughed and tried to get his brother to wait.

"He's aged. He's old. That is what i recognize" I barely gasped out between giggles.

So Harry repeated in a low murmer. So next thing I know William stomps back "what do you mean he's old?!?!"

"Not him you! Shit!! Oops I mean! No! No! I don't you got it right the First time!" Finally i could quit laughing and get myself together! Im sure i looked quite the Loon of Los Lunas!!

Behind me i could hear Harry taking pictures of my daughter who was just lit up.

"It IS! LOOK AT THEM! THEIR FACES! Its all her!!! You could tell can't you Harry!!!" William had the same amused satisfied look on his face that Harry had had in the line.

It was weird because Harry was in front of me with a black beanie and all black clothes and i had a feeling. And a memory of the burglar guys from Home Alone. And i started messing around in my head from that feeling because i felt very safe and comfortable to have my own presence.

And Harry spun around and grabbed his heart. His eyes wide with shock. Then kept turning his head to look at me. Gave up and then stood next to me.

I felt he was very tall. Almost too tall, i felt he had grown into a handsome young man. And i wondered why i thought those things. And it made me cautious. So i put my hand on my hip and spread my legs a bit like Wonder Woman and in my head said "And who are we to serve today sir?!"

My soulmate was all "you feel uncomfortable but you feel you should do like that?!?!"

"Uh huh."

That is when Harry's mouth dropped. But also colors whizzed by me. Colors of me in an outfit I had worn Before that only he found striking enough to remember.

And he spun around like Wonder Woman changing into her super self and said "there"

And i said "oh well what will you be having? She wants the chicken"

He laughed and barely squeezed out "burger and fries"

"Oh we are getting milkshakes, too. Coupon"

"Oh let me see? Are you done? May I?" And he clipped a coupon

"In the mail, the mailbox that is where i got them at my house"

"Oh you live nearby?"

"Down the road"

His face turned white and he grabbed a pen and wrote my name on his hand.

"Yeah but it's okay. There's nothing to it. Just be me"

And he doubled at the waist laughing.

"I'll admit some days it ain't easy but hey what else are ya gonna do? Cant die"

He had tried to steady himself but bust laughing again.

"Yeah I know you can't be me. I'll go first"

"Please do!!"

Later, as i left, the Police Department went in and asked for all copies of the security footage. And ordered something to eat while he waited.

...... ..... ....

Back in 2008 they had visited and I had kept explaining how I for each event we needed money and who had the funds.

Harry who i had not recognized yet although i had recognized his brother, because Harry had changed outfits and was walking about and had confused me as I was super busy interrupted, "excuse me if i may, but why do you keep saying you need money? You're like the richest person we know!!"

"Oh I'm so glad you asked would you like to see my bank account?!"

"No!"

So i showed him, we got like $2000 per month for my now ex husband's wages and my money from the VA to attend school.

And he turned white and he said "so so so someone stole from you?!?!?"

I didn't know i had money. I just knew people were offering to fund it. And would say "you got money for that" Saint Luches had caught on and would say "from me" as he played my accountant when Dan was busy.

Otherwise Dan would say "there's funding for that"

So it was quite the Bermuda Triangle of communication for me to understand that it was my own money we were using and it was my own money for businesses I owned and didn't know i owned.

And my face turned white.

And that is what seeded the desire two Kings to live as peasants.

Except Harry said he also wanted to do it alone. And so now it is his blessing to do so.

They would take breaks and leave their money as it was and go back to work and do what they needed to do for their country then they would return to where they were and be at the same amount of regular money they had at where they lived.

They would stay in the USA and use USD. They would stay in England even in their castles and use regular Euros and be on a budget under the Queen whom of course would bail them out.

I posted an article not to long ago about the Young Queens wearing mall priced jewellery along with their crowns.

And so while the world is in an uproar, they're doing what they have been all along. But this time a bit louder.

And William will take his turn at living singley with his family as a peasant eating 15 year old French fries from the back seat of their nearly broken down auto.

They have a series of different lifestyles to live.

Eventually they will have to hitchhike and stumble across luck in life.

When they do, they will be disguised and without their children. And to prove the world is safer.

Which we cannot bail them out. Unless it is subzero temperature and they are not near any buildings they can seek shelter at. Or extremely hot and they had not had water.

So in a sense how the brave Americans and other people from other lands will backpack across Europe, they will backpack across the world.

In my old age I am not that brave.

So while many think now "what if God were one of us" in a few years you will know to think "what if the King was Queen was hitchhiking back there?"

Alas. Do realize that people are kidnapped by picking up hitchhikers and they are not going to do so for until 2024. And of course they will have security that is nearby.

So please don't go picking up hitchhikers now! If you don't regularly.

I did in the past until I had my daughter and I can count on one finger how many times I've picked up a stranger on the road side since then. And the same for as many times as we hitchhiked ourselves.

I do help people in well lit and populated parking lots if I am not feeling ill.

I applaud Harry and William and their Queens for their adventures they have done in secret. And I look forward to the days we can see their adventures on TV.

May all the Good Gods and Goddesses and Trees bless both Harry and William, their children and their Queens.

My heart goes to Harry and his family on their new adventure they strike out alone!

My happiness still exist for them all!!!.

The number one cause of fights is about money... But I am sure they will still have that ability to find love... Despite that red hair temper stereotype that everyone fears!!! ;)