#like that man is 38 years old and somehow he still looks so young

[nicoscheer]

Via

Oh hi Zackery so how’s that stunning documentary coming along

Via zacharriflint

[qqueenofhades]

I think the Aaron Sorkin fic people are writing about the convention to be extremely silly. It's going to be Biden. And if Biden's health takes a downturn and he feels the need to step down its going tk be Harris. This fantasy where we skip over her to whip up two random white guys(or like maaaybe Witmer) and somehow cruise to victory instead of fragmenting the party months before the election is simply not going to happen.

Look, I'm just saying, I got an email from the Biden campaign this morning where they seemed pretty darn happy with the actual (i.e. not-bloviating media) results of the debate: $38 million raised in 4 days ($30 million from individual small-dollar donors), 10K new volunteers in a week, 3x surge in campaign volunteers for battleground states, essentially no change or even a modest boost in the polls. So I think at this point, we can cautiously conclude the following things:

The debate looked bad for Biden, perhaps, but doesn't seem to have hurt him nearly as much the incredibly bad-faith BIDEN NEEDS TO STEP DOWN NOW takes being pumped out by the NYT and its other compatriots would suggest. Especially when these same media outlets have been gleefully sabotaging Biden at every turn for years already and whose fake-sanctimonious hand-wringing "for the good of the nation" pieces honestly should get them dropped into Superhell for Bad Journalists;

Biden went to Raleigh NC right after the debate and gave a fiery rally speech that was very well received. Now, I don't know why we didn't have that Biden at the debate, but it was the same night and there clearly was not any "cOgnItiVe dEcLinE" happening there (also Biden has a stutter and has for literally his entire life, and had a cold on debate night, so it was just an unfortunate confluence of factors)

There are very few actually undecided voters in this election (once again: HOW???) and those who tuned into the debate were largely already convinced of which candidate they were voting for and this didn't do much to change their minds. Just like, you know, pretty much every other debate in the history of presidential elections.

Ordinary voters, and not mainstream media outlets with BIDEN IZ BAD goggles clamped over their eyes, were able to see Trump's insane Gish gallops, lies, and full-blown dementia; this isn't going to get any better for him when he's already lost 20%-25% of GOP voters in every state primary and still is going to be sentenced in his criminal trial;

The D.C. political elite screaming about how Biden should step down (FOUR MONTHS BEFORE THE ELECTION) and leave the Democrats to start from scratch with some Star Chamber-selected candidate with no money and no incumbency record and no organization apparatus and a divided party are either fucking weapons grade morons or working secretly for Trump, because that IS in fact the best way to lose the election;

Such speculation seems to fall chiefly on Gavin Newsom, who (to his credit) has shut down any and all suggestion that he should try to step in and take the place of an incumbent who has won every state primary with 90% or more, because he's remotely sane and understands that this year is too important to fuck around with;

I've somehow never seen any suggestion that Biden should step aside for the duly elected (brown, female) Vice President, because everyone seems to think some Young Miraculous White Guy is coming and/or should step in;

All this while SCOTUS is clearly so confident of Trump getting back in that it's willing to grant him Absolute God King status pre- and post-emptively;

Yes, Biden needs to up his game before the next debate (though that's on Fox News iirc, blargh), but I think it's far enough post-debate that we can say it was bad but did not sink him, and if anything, reinforced the fact to many ordinary, non-brainwormed voters that Biden is old (which has been the number one chief theme of news coverage for four years and is no surprise to anyone) but is a decent and principled man doing a good job, while Trump is an absolute gibbering insane orange shitmonger fascist. I don't think he did himself any favors in that regard.

....anyway. The point is, do not be fucking insane people, Biden is not going to step down and frankly shouldn't, don't read the NYT (as noted, they've openly admitted to sabotaging him for personal ego reasons so I don't know why the hell anyone would listen to what they have to say about him), this is still an eminently winnable election, and let's go get those motherfucking fascists. I want Trump in jail and all of SCOTUS and the MAGAGOP fucking crying over it because they fucking suck. Let's go.

[just-jordie-things]

Ohhh then can I ask for 37 prompt with gojo

Cuz why do I feel like this man would have the most awkward crush kiss with his so in high school scenario

went out on a limb and guessed u meant 38 but if u want 37 lmk! <3

38: Awkward Teenage Crush Kiss ___

gojo satoru had no fears. he was the strongest man in the world and he'd known it since he was old enough to know anything. he was overbearing in his confidence, and had been a cocky little shit since he could walk. still, the world bowed down to him, out of respect, out of fright, it didn't matter, they bowed.

being treated like royalty a god came with and odd warping of a young kid's mind. for the first fifteen or so years of his life, satoru would have told you that he loved it, he loved the praise, he loved the admiration, he loved his own force of sheer power- and that wasn't exactly untrue now, now that he was nearing graduation and ready to make a proper debut as a jujutsu sorcerer.

but there was definitely somethind different about him now. now that he'd had a glimpse into the dark realities of jujutsu society, now that he had an understanding of what he was really fighting to protect. his mind was growing, he was evolving, and it had slowly happened before your eyes as you spent your years right by his side, as his classmate, and then his friend, and now...

you'd definitely had some kind of effect on satoru, he'd known that much for a while now. something about your relaxed presence seemed to wrap him up and calm him, too. your usual indifference to his banter or flirting often had him flustered, bewildered by your fond eyes and sweet smile. you actually cared for him, you actually enjoyed his company, and you didn't keep these a secret from him.

you greeted him delightedly when he'd return from missions or join you for lunch, throwing your arms around him with the same excitement either way. had he been gone for weeks or hours it didn't matter, your eyes crinkled with your joy at his presence beside you.

and for the very first time, satoru doesn't know what he's done to deserve such treatment. he can't recall a definitive moment where there had been this shift in your relationship, when he'd started thinking about you even when you weren't there. and he certainly tried to remember, he'd lay awake late into the night racking his memory for what it was he'd done to earn your affections- even if they were friendly. but he never got anywhere, and most nights drifted off to sleep thinking about the warm way you smiled at him, and the sweet way you spoke to him.

it's a few nights before you're going to properly graduate when he finally works up the courage to ask you about it.

(gojo satoru has never had to convince himself to be courageous in his life. he simply was)

you're focused on the movie that the two of you had made plans to watch- the second part of a trilogy you'd been excited about and therefore satoru insisted you made the time to watch them all together- when he breaks the silence with his sudden question.

"why do you like me?"

you give him a double take, at first sending a soft smile his direction having expected a random comment, only to realize what he'd actually asked you, and now you're furrowing your brow.

you kick your legs out across his bed as you mull the query over, as though genuinely trying to find an answer, and satoru frowns when you don't instantly give him a reason.

"do you really need me to tell you?" you ask with a giggle of amusement.

"why else would i ask?" he says with wide, impatient eyes. you giggle again, always finding joy in his company, somehow.

"cause you like praise" you respond honestly. satoru's brows fall as he gives you a bored look, but you just shrug your shoulder before turning your attention back to the movie.

satoru shifts in his previously comfortable position to face you, crossing his legs in his lap as he leans into your personal space.

"you're really not going to tell me?" he whines.

"you don't need me to tell you," you let out a breathless laugh, a little surprised by his antics today. "we've been friends for years, you know exactly why i like you"

"well, you could still tell me" he tilts his head, and you smile in admiration as soft wisps of white hair sweep across his forehead.

"i don't need you to tell me why you like me" you point out, leaning your head back against the wall. satoru pouts, now that you've given up what he was going to use as leverage.

"can you just give me a hint?" he huffs, and your smile widens brilliantly, as though you've never been in a better mood than you are right now.

all of the time you spent with satoru felt like that.

"you're so dense sometimes," you sigh at him. "but you're probably my favorite person on the planet"

that makes him smile- and it makes his face warm, too, which you can see, and you take great delight in it.

"really?"

"really," you affirm in a soft voice. "i like you because you're unlike anyone else i've ever met, and i imagine i never will meet someone quite like you,"

you give in, because it's hard not to when he's looking at you so intently. you wonder if he knows that he has this power over you, or if he's clueless about it, too.

"i like you because you know exactly who you are, and you've never been afraid to be that person," you continue fondly. "i like you because you're the nosiest, most involved person in the world, and you make a great effort in making sure i'm okay, safe or fed or having slept well, you put more time in making sure i'm taking care of myself- and taking care of me when i can't- than you've ever turned around and given to yourself,"

you sit up off the wall now, brows pinching in just the slightest as you think through what you wanted to tell him next. your eyes flicker over his features as you edit and retract words in your mind. satoru looks like he's never focused harder in his life, hanging onto your every word, and then tucking them carefully into a special spot in his chest that must be for you because it warms whenever you're around, by his side or in his mind, that spot seems to buzz with life and excitement.

a smile twitches on your lips before you speak again.

"i like you because the way you treat me- the way you make me feel has helped me learn how to like myself," you muse. "because i know if you see something in me worth sticking around for... then that something must be there"

satoru's heart is hitting against his chest so hard he can feel it in his ears, and he thinks it might just sucker punch it's way through his ribcage and into your hands.

or maybe it's been in your hands all this time?

his eyes flicker between yours as you share shy smiles and nervous, breathless laughter.

yes, he thinks with absolute certainty, his heart has been yours all this time. and deep down he realizes he must've always known it, because you made him feel just the same way.

you'd always been more than a friend, you'd been his person, the only person that stuck by him and put up with him through and through- and you'd never found it to be a chore. you were his favorite person, and just as you said yourself, you always would be.

"i want to kiss you,"

he blurts it out, and his face is pink with the slight embarrassment of not having conducted himself in a bit more of a romantic way, but he can't help it. your eyes go wide before they soften, and you're smiling back at him in pleasant surprise.

"i mean i-" satoru huffs, rolling his eyes at himself before moving closer to you, staring at you with a heaviness you'd never felt from him before. it had your heart doing somersaults as you waited for him to say what he meant. "can i kiss you?"

this time it comes out soft, his gaze falling to your lips before you answer, already swept up in the idea of kissing you that he's running his tongue over bottom lip with anticipation.

"yes"

your answer falls from your mouth in a murmur and not even a second passes before his lips are on yours, firm and sweet and kissing you with such a desperation you could almost believe the world was ending and this was your only chance.

you kiss him softly, languidly, taking your time as you slant your mouth over his and try to commit every detail of being this close to him to memory. but it's not long before you throw all caution out the window and your hands are awkwardly grabbing at him- his collar, his shoulders, his hair- it's like you're unsure what to do with them, but in reality you're just eager to take in every second of this moment.

as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, testing all new waters, you both grow sloppy in your movements. he's practically pawing at you, pulling you close, his hands gliding everywhere they can reach and in turn you're pressing into him until your nose is smushed into the curve of his, soft pants falling against his lips before you're kissing them again.

it's messy, it's uncoordinated, and if you weren't in your body right now you would laugh at the sight of the two of you kissing so madly you aren't even bothered when your lips clash at awkward angles, with you accidentally kissing his teeth and his own kisses landing on your chin, or your cupid's bow. if you truly were out of body, though, you'd realize that you hadn't even cared- or seemed to notice at all.

it was a bliss only the heavens could bequeath upon you, and despite having all the time in the world, you and satoru were happy to rush through your kisses, letting your excitement get the better of you.

___

xoxo ~ jordie

[land-of-evergreens-and-dye]

Ok so I know I reblogged @morganbritton132 post about steve not being an only child but the youngest of like a really big family and I added my 2 bits to that post, but now I need to get this out of my brain now or it will explode. The ages are how old they are by season 4 I hope I did the math right and it makes sense. Im also hopped up on 2 midols so hopfully this makes sense.

Steve who has 7 older siblings this including 2 sets of twins. His father started his first family young after getting his high school sweetheart pregnant and was forced to marry her at 17. Thankfully his side of the family was already loaded, so his Richard's father just had him work for him and provided a cushy life that provided nannies to raise his children so he didn't have to.

He has Rebecca (38) the oldest a stay at home mom with 3 kids and a divorce from her deadbeat, useless husband.

Oliver and Penny (36) the first set of twins. Oliver has 1 kid and works as a principal and is happily married. Penny never married but lives with her "roomate" of like 15 years she's a photographer who's opened many art galleries.

Peter (35) he's a lawyer and the most like their father. Stern and doesn’t believe in handouts that a man has to work for what he gets, despite being handed everything on a silver platter his whole life. Also never been married but enjoys his secretaries a little too much.

Harold or Harry (30) as he likes to be referred to is a firefighter. He keeps to himself and honestly gets overshadowed by his other siblings' achievements. He is the most like Steve personality wise and had always liked Steve as a kid, but shunned him just so he wouldn’t get the same treatment from his full siblings.

And finally the youngest and final set of twins Olivia and Cecelia (27) identical twins who look exactly like their mother. Olivia is a professional ballerina she travels a lot for work going from theater to theater never staying in one place for long. Cecelia on the other hand is a pediatric doctor who takes her work very seriously and is one of the harder siblings to get ahold of.

Richard ends up knocking up his 20 something yearold secretary when he was in his early 50's and decides to leave his wife and kids for her. Despite how successful his 7 previous kids are, they still do not meet his high standards and thought he could do better somehow. He makes the same mistakes, though, since his new wife is paranoid that he'll cheat on her when she's not with him. Poor steve is left with nannies until he's able to properly dial 911 all by himself.

No one in Hawkins has ever met steves older siblings since Richard's first wife won the house in the divorce so he moved his new family to his old grandparents house that was willed to him after their passing. And so poor Steve grew up alone in that big empty house despised by his older siblings he never gets to see. Their mother won full custody over them the only time he got to see them was from the ages 1-7 when their dad would actually hold christmas parties at his house to show off his children and claim their accomplishments as being due to his influence. During these parties his siblings would stay for a week or 2, and Steve was never included with their activities, as he was deemed both the reason their dad left and an annoying youngest brother.

Once Steve turned 7 and the yougest of his older siblings were now 13 they no longer wanted to be around him or their father so they just stopped coming and Steve was the sole bearer of their father's high expectations. While his older siblings had each other to rely on or to share the load. Steve was all alone and was crumbling under the pressure fast.

He befriends the wrong friends and falls into the popular crowd trying to please his father, who was never around. His new friends and ability to play sports pleases the old man for a little while, but his subpar grades really canceled out any sort of positive attention he thought he could possibly receive.

Then season 1 happens, and Steve discovers just how alone he is in the world. No one can get ahold of his parents who are out of the country again and not 1 of his 7 siblings even called him back when he left a meassage telling him that he was scared and alone and concussed. He understood the ones with kids probably couldn't do much they had to take care of their own families, but the other 5 were close enough to at least call him back. He made sure to keep tabs on them in case he ever needed to contact them. They were all close enough to at least care for his well-being, and they just plain didn’t.

Season 2 happens, and Steve's new and more real family starts to take shape. Steve had bever been an older brother, so the thrill of becoming an older brother like role model to these children he had semi adopted was quite the rush. Not to mention that Joyce Byers was a force to reccon with when she set her mind on making sure the lone teen in the group was well taken care of she made sure he was well taken care of. He finally had a family after wishing for something close to unconditional love his whole childhood, and he was finally getting that. He had family dinners with the Byers and Hendersons. He spent christams at different party members' houses throughout the day it was the best christmas he had ever had. He was loved and happy. Hopper wasn't 100% a father figure, but he was there more often than his own father, so he was already leagues better than his bio dad.

Unfortunately season 3 happens and Steve is met with the unfortunate pattern his life keeps taking. Where any good thing that happens to him, wether that be secret hangouts with Harry when they were kids or dinners with Hopper and El, must come to a usually lonley and painful end. Hopper is dead and Steve blaims himself, he loses the Byers +El, and he is once again ignored by his bio family while suffering a high grade concussion and side affects from the drugs still left in his system. Not 1 person from his family could come to the phone or call back. He doesn't even know why he bothers he's positive that he could die and no one would care or find out until his parents returned moths after the fact and found the house empty and covered in dust. And even then it would take a week of being mad about the state of the house before someone paid their condolences to his parents that they'd find out what happened to the youngest Harrington. Steve's convinced that they wouldn't even be sad for long. Why would they be sad about someone they hardly knew, he was just a background character in their lives if that. Not a thought spared to poor homewrecker Steve, probably served him right. But Steve does get a platonic soulmate in the form of one Robin Buckley who fits in perfectly with his found family and helps soothe the loss Steve feels in the Byers/Hoppers absences.

Season 4 happens, but they defeat Vecna. The plan works Eddie makes it. I'll bet a couple of pounds lighter and a few skin graftes later. But Eddie lives and is promptly handcuffed to the bed still being charged with the death of Chrissy and now Jason. And Steve can barely stand, but he will not sit around and let Eddie get pinned for this whole mess, not on his watch. He calls and calls and calls Peter until a full 2 days pass he finally picks up.

13 years and he finally picks up Steve is pleading and crying and bargaining, trying to get Peter to take Eddie's case. He promises never to contact him again if he would just help him this one time. That Steve will pay double no tripple what he charges for his services if it means he will help him. Peter hems and haws but finally agrees. And tells Steve that he only needs to pay the regular price. Steve finally sags into the hospital bed in the same room as Eddie, who is thankfully asleep in the bed next to him. He can finally relax knowing his family will be safe and happy, Peter has never lost a case yet.

The issue Steve was not prepared for was that apparently Harry had had enough of his family treating their youngest brother like nothing and after the most recent call from Hawkins general decided to go and collect his brothers and sisters to all go make sure their little brother was alive and fine. They had been talking about reconnecting with the youngest for a while now, but never really did anything about it, life got in the way and the yearly phone calls regarding their brother never seemed important enough in the grand scheme of things going on in their lives.

Well Harry had had enough and when he went to collect his siblings and finally got to Peter, Harry was absolutely furious to find out that after getting ahold of one of his family members. Family members who were supposed to love and care for him, their youngest sibling. All Pete did was charge the boy his usual going rates for his services. Didn't even ask if Steve was ok, he just agreed to the job nothing more, nothing less. Harry almost murded his brother right there with his 5 other siblings as witnesses. He wanted to cry for his baby brother, who he cut ties with so he didnt suffer the same fate, had no family to speak of and was alone in a hospital, again.

It took 3 days for Harry to force all of his siblings to Hawkins and into a cramped hospital room with 2 beds and a truck load of visitors for the the two occupants in it. Steve looked so confused when more than just Peter walked through the door. And at first the party thought they were more angry mob coming to finish Eddie off, but found they didn't recognize any of the faces. Except they did look familiar, but they couldn't put their fingers on why they looked familiar. Meanwhile, Steve's confusion just turns into a feeling of nothing. He's numb and not from the pain meds. No, he's numb because in his mind the only reason his siblings are here is because they think he has money. Peter must have told him about how desperate Steve was for his services and how much he was willing to pay. It's the only explanation he could come up with.

After like 10 minutes of silence as Steve's bio family stare at their little brother beaten to hell and bandged like a mummy from being demobat food, it's Erica who finally inform these stranges that they got the wrong room and to please leave. That seems to shock Steve's family into action as they all start talking over each other in response to Erica as well as critiquing the state Steve is in, the room is in, and the town is in. This starts a migraine in Steve's head almost immediately, and Robin clocks it almost just as quick. She demands quiet and gets it before asking the intruders who they are what they want.

Peter finally steps forward and introduces himself as both a Harrington and a lawyer who will be representing one Eddie Munson in his upcoming trial. All of the party's eyes land on Steve who just looks tired. But finally Steve introduces his siblings and with each new introduction he can see the hatred growing in his found familes eyes. Steve's embarrassed that they have to find out what a huge piece of nothing he is. He knew it was gonna happen at some point. After introductions are made none of the Harrington's are able to get a word out before Steve's found family decend onto his bio siblings for being the most absent and biggest piles of shit they have ever met. They defend Steve like it is their jobs and that steves siblings should be ashamed of themselves.

It's safe to say that the upcoming moths of healing, Eddies trial, and subsequent win are all very awkward and full of hate towards each other. Steve's bio family are convinced they did nothing wrong while the found family held tight to the belief that the bio family did everything wrong. And Steve has just accepted that from now on he will bear witness to Rebecca having full-blown arguments with Erica like that's a normal Tuesday for him.

This does result in a happy ending though with Steve gaining not just found family but also his bio family. It's a lot of work on both sides but in the end its totally worth it. Steve finally has the big happy family hes always wanted.

I personally think this would end in steddie and the whole family minus his parents would be at their wedding. And that Steve's bio siblings would have to also win over Wayne's approval. But that is totally up to you. Thank you for reading my midol fueled rant.

[infinityactual]

Ngl, being (apparently exactly) half your age is fun because making people about my mom's age feel Old is enrichment for me (love u, have a nice day)

Hey man I love feelin old.

It's funny, growing up undiagnosed autistic and adhd in an abusive, authoritarian household really messed up my perception of what growing up is like. I have since officially cut contact with my abusive family (they didn't even react aside from signing the registered mail receipt lolololol) but even before that, I often thought a lot about what its like being in my thirties.

(Brief mentions of assault and abuse below he cut, nothing detailed just mentions as examples for context. This got a little rambly, I've had a lot on my mind regarding age the last few years.)

And being that old? It's. Not different. The phrase 'the more things change, the more they stay the same' never really made sense to me as a kid, but it hits home nowadays. I'm still me, but between growing and learning as I age and the realization that I'm probably not who I was told I was, it makes sense. I change. But I stay the same. It's like adding extra paint to a canvas. It's still a canvas, but there's more to it now. It will always be a canvas, but it's a canvas that is also different than it was before. It's changed, but it's the same.

My mom is one of those people who (literally at times) beat into me that if you got assaulted or raped or murdered, it was somehow YOUR fault for being too stupid or dressing too provocative or some other bullshit reason, and that I was sooo trusting and sooo stupid that I would probably end up dead before I hit 25.

And being on the spectrum and adhd and...well, a fuckin CHILD, I believed it.

It took three therapists and a psychiatrist, plus pretty much everyone I talk to going "Uh hey [x] isn't normal, that's abuse and you probably have [y] issues" for it to really sink in that my mother was wrong. That happened in 2020, right at the start of lockdown. Almost 5 years later and I still get kicked in the head with past traumas. I'm still sorting everything out. It's gonna take a while.

But I'm 38. Over a decade past the age when I thought I'd be dead. And only this year after deciding not to let the trauma and bad memories surrounding my birthday did I really understand how fucked up it is to fully expect to be dead at a young age without any sort of preexisting issues going on (it's also not a good way to live if you DO have medical issues that could kill you, but that is not what I'm getting into today).

I still feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. And it's not a 'my death could happen any second' feeling, it's a more insidious 'what if my death comes from my spouse, whom I love and trust implicitly?' thing, with an added feeling of anxiety because on bad brain days I try to look for red flags where there are none.

And the real kicker: that sort of trust was already violated when I was a toddler, possibly younger, and kept being violated till I left home.

It's a lot to think about. Like several boxes of puzzles all dumped on the floor at once. I pick through the pieces, sometimes things click, but mostly it's just a mess.

But I am glad I lived. I'm glad that I am still here to prove that I'm not 'too stupid' to survive. I like being the server dinosaur on Discord. I like being there for younger folks who went through or still are in the shit. Cos I'm proof it gets better. I'm proof that abusers are liars and so are the mental problems abuse instills in a mind. They're liars that tell you horrible things. I argue back. I have gotten into the habit of responding to the thoughts in my mother's voice yelling at me by telling her she can fuck off.

She can fuck off and I'll still be here loving the same shit I did in school. In fact, things I loved have been coming back to me. I'm still me, but I've changed. The only thing adult about me is my age and that I have bills and taxes. I've cultivated patience. Learned that I was never wrong to give kindness and expect it in return. I've grown. And I love being old.

[stackthedeck]

i normally really do not enjoy starker but dear god i need you to write the sad old dilfs fic

Sad old dilf (singular) Tony is still in his young, dumb, and full of you know playboy era. Hear me out, I'm at my most creatively fulfilled when I look at fanon or canon and I say "that has potential but poor execution, let me help you out, let me 'yes and' you" so here's my pitch for the kind of starker fic I could get on board with (Peter B Parker x 616 adjacent Tony Stark)

Peter B Parker, according to into the spider verse, is 38 years old, freshly divorced and for the sake of keeping him at his most sad and pathetic, the plot of into the spiderverse hasn't happened yet. He is crying in the shower, still wearing the spider suit, eating pizza as we speak

The last time Tony Stark's age was mentioned in the comics he was 34 (can you fucking believe he'd be 50 in the mcu currently) but I think this pairing would benefit from Tony having just finished his origin. So lets say this Tony has just realized the error of his ways and is trying to get this whole Iron Man thing to work and for the sake of drama he's still doing that thing where he pretends the iron man is his bodyguard because I love that. That'd put Tony in his mid-twenties

Spider-Man runs into Iron Man one night, at the top of Stark tower and Peter gives him a stay out of my city new guy I don't trust you kinda talk. Iron Man is like I know I'm new at this but I've got to do something good, I've got to make him for my past mistakes, I have all this power and I need to actually use it to help people. And Peter's like...okay I didn't ask for your whole backstory dude. He also makes a snide comment about Iron Man being that spoiled brat Tony Stark's bodyguard and Iron Man says that spoiled brat pays my bills. Peter is like damn is he taking applications? Iron Man gets really excited about this because Tony is of course inspired by the first superhero this city has ever had, the one protecting people for as long as he can remember. And Peter is like, I don't do team-ups or friendships, Spider-Man is a solo act right now. But he promises to help Iron Man out in an emergency, maybe give him some hero tips. Iron Man says he wants to help Spider-Man in any way he can but Peter kinda shrugs him off

There's like some Stark charity gala that Peter is forced to cover for the Daily Bugle but oh no a super villain attacks or some shit. Peter is like fuck I'm getting too old for this but puts the suit on anyways and somehow saves Tony before he can call the iron man armor. Spider-Man has to carry him out of the building which requires some kind of cradling. Spider-Man is like are you okay while like maybe holding his face or something. Tony who is instantly down bad for anyone that shows him the slightest bit of care is obsessed

the next day, Peter gets a call from the Bugle that Tony Stark wants to give them an interview, but he insists that Peter has to be the one to do it. Peter is like shit, the super genius put the pieces together but my life can't get worse so fuck it. He goes and Tony is like, you're the guy that takes pictures of Spider-Man can you give me his number. Peter is like what. Tony wants to sponsor Spider-Man and this instantly boils over into a fight because Peter thinks Tony is trying to buy Spider-Man and you can't just buy goodness, but Tony genuinely wants to help. Peter storms out and Tony slumps against his desk with a drink in his hand. He is now down bad for Peter because his type is older men that are mean to him *cough* daddy issues *cough*

Spider-Man and Iron Man work together for some save the world type thing idk I hate action set pieces. Peter mentions that Stark tried to buy him and Iron Man suggests that maybe he was just trying to help. Peter calls bullshit, but Tony pushes and says that he could give him some upgrades to his suit or Peter could work for Stark industries, with the webs like that, the guy behind the mask also has to be pretty smart. Peter tells him a hard no. But Peter gets back to his apartment to a pile of bills and no emails back from all the jobs he applied to. So he puts his masters in biochemistry to use and applies for a position at Stark Industries. He gets a call back the next day

Tony interviews him and even though he was hoping Spider-Man would apply, he needs to fill the position and Peter is undeniably qualified. Peter notices that Tony looks like shit, he looks exhausted and like he's drinking more than usual but also he's got bruises that Peter can't imagine a CEO having. After the interview is over, Peter reaches across the desk and takes Tony's hand and earnestly asks him if he's okay, maybe does the "who did this to you?" thing. Tony nearly starts crying and melts into a puddle at the same time. He does neither of those things thankfully and tells Peter he's got the job, no reason to kiss his ass. Peter rolls his eyes and says that he can be concerned without wanting Tony's money

Peter starts at Stark Industries and he's working in the lab...with Tony. He's surprised that Tony is still getting his hands dirty and he's even more surprised that the CEO wants to work with him even though he's just a new hire. Tony needs someone with biochemical experience for three reasons, he wants the vital measurements in the iron man suit to be more precise, Stark Industries used to make chemical weapons and he wants to make treatments for the victims, and he wants to improve his chest plate and treat his heart condition. Peter is like holy shit none of that is for profit that's so sexy

As they work together, they actually become friends and at the same time, Spider-Man and Iron Man are teaming up more often. After months of working with the Iron Man armor, watching Tony try on and test the armor, Peter puts two and two together, but he understands the importance of secret identities so he keeps it to himself, but he does feel bad about the double life he's created with Tony and he can't help but compare it to how that foundation of lies was what made his and MJ's relationship so unstable in the first place

It's the anniversary of MJ and Peter's divorce and Peter is fucking distraught but comes into work anyway. Tony is like you look like shit man and Peter explains. Tony gives Peter the day off and offers to go bar hopping with him. Peter gets mad at him because he knows that Tony is pushing himself too hard just like Peter did at his age. He tells him that he's still young, still has a chance to make something of his life why is he throwing it away on drinking and this party boy life and wasting away in a lab with an old burnt-out weirdo like Peter. In the middle of Peter yelling at Tony, Tony kisses him says some cheesy pick-up line about maybe he likes being yelled at by older men.

They take the elevator to Tony's penthouse in the tower and they sleep together, Tony probably calls him daddy. Peter mostly does it because he misses MJ but also maybe he likes Tony too, he definitely cares about him. But he's also having a crisis because he's a decade older than Tony but Tony is also his boss oh god what's the responsible thing to do here. Tony is down bad for Peter, he wants this so desperately to work, needs this to work because no other relationship has given a shit about him like Peter B Parker has

Tony obviously moves too fast and instantly tries to start doing romantic gestures for Peter, nice dinners, gifts, getting physical while they're working together, etc. And Peter just kinda lets it happen like he's not opposed to dating Tony and he's definitely physically attracted to him, but he's not sure if he's ready for a romantic relationship

and then idk after that Tony probably reveals that he's iron man and Peter is like fuck I feel really bad about not telling him I'm Spider-Man and that's only going to make things more complicated. Maybe Peter tries to break it off and Tony kinda spirals so Peter as the older more responsible one feels the need to continue to care for Tony. Maybe Peter thinks they're just fwb when Tony has caught feelings idk

[grandhotelabyss]

A free excerpt from behind the paywall of my novel Major Arcana, Part One, Chapter 4, "Out of Time."

She kept an Instagram account for the store updated at least once a week with enticing photos and descriptions  of new arrivals, and she followed everyone back who followed her. She kept her eye on the DMs for business inquiries, but she inevitably found either obscene demands (“tits or GTFO,” “feet?”) or, still more obscene to her mind, messages deploring her because she had not issued this political statement or that, which she never did, since she wasn’t one for the news either, being, as she’d been informed by her uninvited ethical tutors, a “privileged bitch.” 

She did see a meme in the feed one day, however—the day after Jakey’s funeral in fact. Though she’d guessed that it had been meant as a dark joke, like most memes she ran into, commiseration in shared suffering and a shared laugh from some despairing boy in some suburban basement who couldn’t get laid (is that why Jakey had despaired? no, he was surely too young, or had been too young, young or old as he’d ever be, to have worried about that). Instead of giving her a grim chuckle at the often unspoken truth, however, this meme so succinctly but also strangely and beautifully expressed what she thought of as her dilemma that she, who had not cried at her son’s viewing or his funeral, began to shake and sob right there behind the counter, beneath the encyclopedia set, in her mercifully empty shop.  The meme showed a little blonde girl, five or six years old. She looked dutifully into the camera, squinting or wincing more than she was smiling, a look more of apprehension and resolution than childish cheer.  Above an expanse of grass behind her reared the old skyline of the city she somehow thought, even now, that she would eventually somehow run away to, the skyline as it had been for the whole last quarter of the last century, commanded by those two columns, those giant bars of glass challenging the sky, proclaiming the dominion of man, of commerce, of America, for better and for worse, over the face of the earth.  In the grass between the little girl and the Twin Towers lay what appeared to be a couple indistinct on the old pre-digital film, too far away to see, but probably laughing, probably staring with new lovers’ inexhaustible appetite and fascination into one another’s eyes. The sky was clear but somehow ominous—probably the meme artist had with some digital tool or other exercised poetic license—not quite blue as a clear calm sky is blue, like the sky that Tuesday morning over two decades ago had been, but storm-darkened halfway to an electric indigo.  The color reminded her of when a pleasant dream slowly curdles to a nightmare. You’re in the car with your father; you’re on your way to a party; it’s a sunny day. Then it’s not sunny anymore; he turns his eyes from the road to face you; those black marbles aren’t his eyes; that man is not your father; a party, you somehow understand, is certainly not where you’re going. In this purply unnatural monsoon sky above the girl, the couple, and the Towers, the meme artist had typed, in a typewriter font evocative of the middle 20th century, the slogan: The world you were raised to survive in no longer exists. Whatever it meant exactly—whatever political message the mememeister had intended—she thought it described her problem exactly. She could have been that girl on that day. Over a long weekend when she was a girl, her mother had taken her on a Greyhound to the city shortly after her father left. They’d shopped and dined and gone to museums; they got dressed up and went to see Miss Saigon. How could it be that she was 38 and had already lost so much?

And not to spill the magician's secrets, but one formal principle of the novel, which is set between the 1970s and the present, is that its temporality is always hazy, floating, dreamy, you never quite know exactly what year the characters are in—except that both 9/11 and the pandemic are constantly alluded to, as the brutal tears in/of 21st-century reality, history's nails on which humanity has been hung.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Commander's Omega"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: alpha/omega, dystopia, sex slavery, forced breeding, mutilation, rape, corporal punishment, fascism, hurt/comfort, power imbalance, mpreg, age gap (38/23)

Summary: After years of a mass infertility crisis, the United States is overtaken by religious fanatics, and Bucky Barnes finds himself thrust into a brutal world of survival. When he's discovered to be fertile, he's forced to serve as a vessel: a caste of omegas who bear children for the political elite.

Chapter II. Ofsteven

Story Masterlist

Before:

“We’ll have order please.” A 'knock' of gavel on wooden block. “Mr. Gamble, for the state.?

“Yes your Honor.” A thin, reed-like man gets up and addresses the judge. “The accused stands charged with terrorism against the state, in violation of Romans, chapter thirteen, verse one through seven. By His word.”

“And do you swear by His name that the report you have submitted is the truth entirely?”

“Yes, I do so swear.”

“Then, in the name of God and his servants here on earth, the accused is hereby found guilty.”

Another 'knock' on wood, somehow more final than the last.

“Registered vessel 32-257, true justice for your crime would see you condemned to death. But God has seen fit to make you fruitful, and by that we are bound. So, you are hereby sentenced to redemption.”

'Knock!'

All it takes is three minutes. Three minutes in front of a judge and three knocks of said judge’s gavel, and Bucky’s fate is sealed. The same guardians who brought him into the courtroom guide him out, back down the long hallways, and outside to the waiting van. He’s shoved into the back, and they drive and they drive, and when the doors open again and he’s pulled back out to stand on his feet, they’ve parked in front of the hospital. No time wasted.

The guards escort him inside. The hospital, Bucky's been told, is one of the few places left in society where one might be likely to encounter people from all walks of life, all levels of ordained class. There are blue Spouses and and green domestics, gray laborers and brown caretakers, pink and white children, and red vessels.

Bucky's never seen a vessel up close. He still isn't sure he believes it, the things he's heard. Sex slaves. Broodmares. Even for Gilead's shiny new nation, it seems far-fetched.

... But he gets a sinking feeling when he looks around the waiting room and realizes that every single man and woman in red is visibly pregnant.

While the guardians sign him in at the desk, Bucky looks around. Some of the people in the room are hurt, others seem ill. Four of the five vessels look to be in active labor. No one but him is handcuffed. His attention falls on a little omega toddler who's there with her nanny, having her tears wiped away and soothing words murmured into her hair. Bucky's only aware of her designation because of the color of her clothes, the Ω insignia on her citizenry armband.

Used to be, a person's designation went unknown until puberty. But with things the way they are now, infants get blood tested to find out. It gives them more time, Bucky supposes. Allows them to get used to their enforced roles in society, and—if they're not alpha—to not get their hopes up too high.

It's sad. She’s young, probably no more than three years old. Young enough that she’s never known anything other than the world how it is now. She's a true, birthed citizen of Gilead, and something about that injustice breaks Bucky’s heart. More so even than the injustice that’s about to be done to him. This little girl, all dressed in pink and tear-stained, will never know what the world used to be like. She’ll never read, she’ll never work, she’ll never know freedom. And worst of all is she won’t care, because she never had it to begin with.

“Come on.” The guard on Bucky’s right grabs his bound hands and tugs it forward so that the admissions nurse can thread a hospital bracelet around his wrist. She clips it shut, the printed tag reading his name, age, blood type, and the procedure he's there for. The sight of it against his skin is jarring to Bucky. He doesn’t fail to notice how it’s been placed on his right wrist and not his left. Bucky's always been right handed.

Thank God for small favors.

He almost busts out laughing, but the guard startles him out of it as he yanks on his arm and gruffly says, “Let’s go."

They start walking in the direction of the elevators. They go up to the fifth floor of the hospital. Bucky’s told to take a shower and wash himself using antiseptic soap. He does, and then he’s given a hospital gown to put on. The guards stand watch while a nurse directs him to get up on the stretcher. They strap his legs and chest down to it, then wheel him down the hallway towards the room that’s marked with a sign reading: Surgery. The guards post themselves on either side of the operating room doors while the nurse pushes the gurney through.

There’s a doctor inside. She’s scrubbing up over by a little sink along the wall. Three nurses move about the room arranging things. The nurse that’s brought Bucky in pushes the gurney to rest underneath the bright lights. He has to blink to adjust his eyes to the glare. When he does he can see what everyone’s doing. The doctor has finished washing her hands and is allowing one of the nurses to put sterile gloves on her. Another nurse is calibrating the general anesthesia machine. Bucky’s eyes search for the third nurse and land on the metal tray table that he’s arranged and is rolling over. It’s lined with white paper towels, and on top of those are a number of medical instruments: forceps and tweezers, cotton balls and gauze. And a surgical marker. And a scalpel. And a bone saw.

Bucky’s vision wavers from fear. Someone abruptly covers his mouth and nose with a rubber mask. "Take a deep breath and count backward from one hundred."

"One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, niny-seff—"

“—oing to get him transferred to the bed right here. Be careful.”

“—and set the morphine drip up like this. Apostates like him shouldn’t even be given this stuff if you ask me.”

When Bucky wakes up, he’s alone in a hospital bed, in a hospital room. He's nauseous and his throat is dry and he’s in pain but his foggy brain can’t make sense of why. He drifts in and out of consciousness like that for over an hour. Then, when he wakes up fully, he realizes that his left arm is what hurts, and he remembers. He tips his head to the side and looks down.

His left arm is gone.

After:

The car ride to the Commander’s house is quiet. Bucky’s alone in the backseat while Commander Rogers sits in the front passenger seat. Commander Rogers’ house is a large, brick and stucco Tudor outside the city. A soldier posted at the front gate lets them in and they drive around to the back of the house where there are gardens and a garage. Commander Rogers gets out of the car and is already in the house by the time the driver comes around to let Bucky out of the locked back seat.

Bucky stares at the guy. He’s white, not much taller than Bucky is, with short blond hair and guardian's attire. There's a SIG Sauer holstered at his hip. Bucky gets out of the car and fights the urge to sneer at him—not just for the fact that he's carrying cross draw, but because his citizenry armband bears the mark of omega. Bucky doesn’t think he’s seen a single guardian of the faith who’s omega since this whole thing started, and it’s been almost four years now.

“Blessed day,” the man says, offering out his hand for Bucky to shake. “I’m Clint.”

"I'm ..." Bucky hesitates, unsure of the protocol. Omegas are allowed to shake other omegas' hands, but not guardians'. He errs on the side of caution and chooses to nod respectfully, rather than accept the handshake. "I'm James," he says. then hesitates all over again. "Erm, I mean ..." Shit. He peeks up at Clint with a wince. "What's his name?"

Much like Commander Rogers had done back at the red center, Clint's features tighten in something akin to discomfort. "It's Steve," he says. "Commander Steven Grant Rogers."

Bucky averts his eyes. "Right, then," he says dully. "Nice meeting you, Clint."

"And you ... Ofsteven."

Inside the house, it’s dim. The hardwood floors and moldings on the walls make the dwelling seem old, but it’s nicely-furnished. Rich.

Bucky’s been left on his own to explore, trailing from one room to the next. If Commander Rogers has a family, Bucky doesn’t encounter any of them. He finds the kitchen on the main level and sees that there’s a domestic in there, kneading dough on the island countertop. She catches sight of him and looks up. “Oh. Hello." She doesn’t stop her work, hands digging into the dough over and over again. “You must be the new one.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “New one?”

The woman doesn’t answer him, but she really doesn’t have to. Obviously, Bucky’s not the first vessel to be posted to the Rogers household. This isn’t his first posting either, though, so he tries not to read too much into it. The previous omega mustn’t have been able to have a baby during their time here, just like Bucky hadn’t at his first posting. “I’m Ofsteven,” he volunteers to the domestic, when it seems that she isn’t going to make the effort.

Her eyes flick up to him again, and Bucky doesn’t miss the way she takes in his lack of an arm. “What did you do?” she asks, rather than give her name.

In another time, Bucky would’ve been offended, but things are so different from how they used to be. He’s gotten used to not being respected very much at all. “I fought,” is all he says. It’s all he needs to say, too, because the woman nods.

“I’m Sharon,” she offers. She stops kneading the dough and balls it up, dumping it into a bowl. She swipes the flour off her palms and holds up her left hand: There’s a finger missing. “Tried to run, that first year.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything to that, just nods. He wonders if she would’ve lost more than a finger if she hadn’t been beta. Domestics do need hands to get their work done, after all. And what a strange world they live in now, that people can form comraderies over severed limbs. It produces within Bucky the slightest urge to snicker, but he refrains from doing so. Instead he says goodbye to Sharon the domestic and leaves the kitchen.

He makes his way up the grand staircase in the foyer and explores the second level of the house. He peeks his head through the door to what is obviously the master bedroom, if the size of the bed is anything to go by. But he doesn’t dare go in. He isn’t sure if he’ll be asked to sleep in the same room as Commander Rogers or not. At his last posting, the commander had had a spouse, so Bucky had been given his own room far away from the master suite. He’d liked it that way too, as Mrs. Putnam had been a woman who could be quite jealous. She hadn’t liked Bucky’s presence in her home at all, and Bucky had made a concerted effort to make himself scarce at all times. Well, all times except for ceremony nights, that was.

A little more exploring, and he finds a bedroom on the third floor that seems to be unoccupied. It’s so small and under-furnished that it gives Bucky hope that the space might be intended for him. He certainly won’t complain if he’s required to be kept away in here. The room’s one window faces the back of the house, and there’s a comfy window bench where he could sit and look out on the gardens if he wanted to. No, Bucky thinks, he wouldn't mind that at all.

Not knowing what else to do, he sits at the window and looks out. He can see the garage and the guest house from here, and the trees and flowers that make up the garden. It’s pretty. Very manicured. Commander Rogers must have a gardener on staff. There’s partial visibility of the house next door as well. It looks to be of a similar style to Commander Rogers’ house. Bucky’s heard stories of property being taken from non-believers and given to the faithful. That’s how it’d been at the Putnam’s. He wonders whether Commander Rogers started out with this house, or if it’d been stolen from some unfortunate Jewish family, or secularists, or perhaps even a pair of well-to-do, queer omegas. Had someone else lived here once? Entertained a happy life until it was taken away from them?

It’s a morbid train of thought, and Bucky decides to put it from his mind. That’s largely how his thinking goes, these days; ignoring things, burying them under other, less dangerous thoughts. It’s the only way to stay sane, really.

He sits there for a long time, enjoying the feeling of the September sun coming through the window. Bucky likes the weather, the change of seasons. It's comforting to him, because it's one of the only things that hasn’t changed. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall: An eternal order that not even the Faithful can take away. It’s a small comfort, and a safer resistance than fighting in the streets, or back-talking a Commander.

A knock comes at the door, and Bucky’s eyes shoot over. There’s another domestic, this one with red hair. She’s got Bucky’s suitcase in her hands. “Your things,” she says. She doesn’t smile at him, but she seems marginally less hostile than Sharon had.

“Thanks,” Bucky says. He gets up and takes the suitcase from her. She nods and makes to leave. Bucky figures he was right in assuming that this little room was set aside for him. There’s a small closet set into the wall right next to the door, and Bucky goes over and opens it. He pulls the chain that dangles from a single bulb in the ceiling, illuminating the tiny space. Sighing, he opens his suitcase and begins taking out his things.

Before, Bucky had had quite a liking for clothes and fashion. He'd considered it a great hardship when he'd had to work with the miniscule closet space of his first college dorm.

Now, he has only a few items of clothing, and none of them are things he'dve willingly worn in his life Before. They’re all assigned to him, the same clothes that all vessels are given to wear, to mark them as other. He’s got precisely five of everything, from the plain cotton briefs and undershirts, to the hand-stitched pants, shirts and sweaters. Everything’s modest, of course, the shirts all having the same high collars to hide his neck. Bucky hangs the clothing up piece by piece, silently hating each and every one.

Red was never his color.

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[my-simp-land]

You Cheeky Slink

Bucky comes to you in the night to tell you about his latest google dive and maybe something more. Bucky x reader fluff. 1508 words. This is highkey self indulgent so get ready to read the fantasy thats been living in my head lately. Thanks :))

“Doll?”

Bucky stands at my door with just his head stuck into my room.

“Bucky, what are you doing? Where’s your shirt? You’re going to catch a cold wandering around with no clothes on,” I mumble from my pillow and plushie covered bed.

He smirks. He always does that smirk when he’s about to give some smartass response. That stupid lopsided smirk with he petal pink lips surrounded by the beard he’s been growing out. It’s kinda gangly but in a good way.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to come in then, so I don’t catch a cold in this freezing hallway. You know, you don't actually catch colds from being co-”

You had to stop the groan from falling past your lips. “Buck, love you and all, but now isn't the time to drop some of your newly found knowledge on me. It's...what time is it? Bucky, it is past midnight. Please tell me why you’re in my room at 12:38 a.m. talking about colds.”

Peter and I have been teaching Bucky how to use the internet and his phone, and We introduced him to Google a few days ago. Ever since then, he’s been catching himself up on most of what has happened in the last 70s years. It’s really heartwarming to see his interest in aerial technology and space exploration. We’re all glad that Bucky is adjusting well, but he’s been bombarding us all with random knowledge he’s found on the internet.

“Well, in all fairness, you were the one that invited me in, angel. I’m just doing what you said.” The smirk again. It’s too dark now that he's standing in my dark room, but I know the smirk. It bleeds into his voice. It makes him sound more...confident. Or cocky. “But dollface, we’ve explored more of space than we have the ocean. We don’t know what all is living in the deep parts of our ocean, but we know that you’ll get spaghettified if you go into a black hole. Some people think black holes are portals and some think they’re dying stars.”

“Wait, what? Buck, where are you getting your info?”

“Google, of course. Can I sit?”

“Sure.” The heavy weight of a giant man and his absurdly heavy metal arm rests on the corner of my bed. He almost seems hesitant to sit. I can immediately feel his warmth through the blanket. Despite me keeping my area freezing, Bucky always stays warm. “But Bucky, you went to a site to read these things. You used google but from there, what did you do?”

I can hear the wheels turning in his head. “Uh...the interesting looking ones?”

“You can’t believe everything you read on the internet, Buck. Anyone can put whatever they want out there. When you’re doing this research you’ve got to use reliable sources.”

“Reliable sources? Can I lean against the wall and stretch my legs?”

“Sure. Friday will help you with that, but Peter and I, and even Dr. Banner could help explain that to you in more detail tomorrow at a reasonable hour.”

Bucky shuffles his way across my bed to rest against the wall. He’s cautious of my legs as he makes his journey. It’s almost like he goes into assassin mode. Even though I know he’s moving, he tries his best not to disturb me.

“Well, did you know the footstep on the moon will likely stay there for at least 100 million years? There’s no wind on the moon, so it can’t be blown away. And did you know space is completely silent? There’s no air, so the sound waves have nothing to travel through so no sound.”

Bucky carries on with his space talk. Not long after we became friends, he shared that as a child he was interested in planes. He wanted to be a pilot growing up. That quickly became an awkward conversation. Now, Bucky is learning to fly with Sam, but once he learned our travels expanded into space, his dreams were out of this world. Bucky would start his google dives asking about some random thing, but without a doubt, he would end up on space exploration. Peter and I want to see how he’d do in a Wikipedia race. Peter thinks he would be amazing at it, but I know he’d get carried away and go down his own rabbit hole.

“Doll, Neptune has storms big enough to swallow the entire Earth! Can I get under the blankets?”

I hummed my approval and rolled over. Bucky’s voice is deep and raspy, and something about it can lull me to sleep. Usually I can’t sleep with any noise but Bucky is different. He could probably do audiobooks. Steve’s school videos and Bucky’s audiobooks. That’s quite a pair.

Bucky carries on with his space dump until I ask him. “Bucky, Russia got a satellite in space first. Sputnik. Would you have had anything to do about it? Idk. That might be a rough question but��”

He thinks, and he thinks hard. I can imagine his brows would come together, and he would bite at the right side of his lower lip. His Neptune blue eyes would move like he’s reading words off an invisible piece of paper laid before him. He would usually run his fingers through his hair, but Sam mentioned hair loss and that made Buck a little self conscious. I told him not to worry, but I’ll catch him catching himself.

“I’m not sure, angel. I don’t remember anything being about space, but maybe i just didn’t know it was about the space race. That is bizarre though. I was around when we made it to the moon, but I wasn’t. Can I get under the blankets?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Buck starts to talk again as he pulls the blankets over himself. He worms his legs undermine. “Bucky, get your popsicle legs off me. Go put those things on Steve.”

He lets out a small laugh before he continues his ted talk of everything. Bucky has been taken with space, but he’s interested in cooking too. He loves to sit and watch The Great British Bake-Off or MasterChef or Top Chef. It was quite sweet and funny when he tried to recreate one of the meat pies from season two of TGBBO. He was so confident, and his bottom was so soggy.

“We should grow a fruit salad tree. We’ve got to do something to a fruit tree, but we’d be able to make it grow up to 6 fruits! You could have peaches, Steve gets apples, Sam gets...I don’t know, and I get plums. We’d have to think of something for Pete. But imagine it, a huge fruit salad tree orchard behind the compound!”

“If it’s an orchard, why don’t we just plant a whole bunch of different trees?”

“Bragging rights. Can I lean on these pillows? I’m just gonna lean here.”

“Sure Buckbeak.”

“Hmph. Us having a fruit salad tree would be like the animals in Harry Potter.”

“Yeah?”

Bucky carries on, but his closeness and warmth are enough to lull me to sleep.

I woke up not too much later. Bucky has slowly made his way to fully laying between me and my pillow mountain. He’s pulled me in close to him and nuzzles his face into my neck. He somehow got his arms fully around me with my noticing. Our legs are intertwined, and thankfully, Bucky’s feet have warmed up. I can hear his heart beat in this position. Despite the torture and darkness he’s witness, his heart still beats like a young bird’s wings. His body and mind is old, but his heart is young. A young man from the 40s thrust into the 21st century. It is a cruel fate, but I know Bucky is strong enough to carry this burden. A heart is a heavy burden to carry.

I wake with the sun; a curious beam has made its way directly into my eyes. I go to grab a pillow to cover my face, but I seem to be in the death grip of a certain super soldier. I’m able to shimmy my way around to look at him. He looks at peace. Bucky always carries his anxieties and burdens, but in this moment, he looks youthful. He isn’t a super soldier who lost himself for 70 years. He isn’t a man who is widely hated and has to redeem himself. He isn’t a man with blood on his hands. He’s just Bucky; a great guy that will hold you when you cry or share a big bellied laugh with you.

“See something you like, dollface?”

“You slithered your slinky way into my bed.”

“No, no, no. You invited me in, so I wouldn't catch a cold. I just made myself not cold.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You were obviously the best solution, cuddle bug. Your heart is so full of love and compassion that it’s gone hot.”

“You’re a big sap.”

“Only for my best girl.”

[hood-ex]

i’m trying to write a fanfic around teen titans era and i’m having trouble writing dick. do you have tips on how to characterize teenage, 15-17 year old dick grayson who is with the titans?

Yup! So the thing about writing Dick with the Teen Titans is that there has to be a balance between his mature leader side and his typical teen behavior side. Dick as a leader and also as a protégé of Batman is someone who does a lot for the team. I’d say that even as a young teen, he’s going to have a lot more responsibilities than the others because of his leader position, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t still have fun with the other Titans. I’m about to hit you with some panels to demonstrate the balance between the two. 

First up, Dick in leader mode. 

He’s the one who calls the shots:

Teen Titans: Year One #3

He’s the man with a plan: 

The New Teen Titans #22

The New Titans #77

He’s the detective who notices small details and asks lots of questions:

Teen Titans #12

Teen Titans #46

The New Titans #65

He’s always prepared:

The New Teen Titans #16

The New Teen Titans #38

He’s the mature one who looks out for all of his teammates and pays close attention to their well-being:

Teen Titans #42

Teen Titans #48

Teen Titans: Year One #3

But even though Dick is usually very focused and therefore comes off as being more serious than the others at times, he’s also prone to telling really fucking stupid jokes and puns during fights that all the other Titans groan over (more so in older Teen Titans comics). He can be sassy and sarcastic as well. Sassing villains and making offhand comments about them during a fight is kinda his thing. He’s chatty. 

Teen Titans #18

Teen Titans: Year One #4

The New Teen Titans #13

So yeah, he’s not a complete tightass or anything. He has moments where he’s just chilling out and being a dork. 

Teen Titans #12

The New Teen Titans #16

And if you wanna try to capture the vibe for how he jokes around then I suggest looking at some panels I compiled where he’s teasing his siblings. 

To sum it all up, Dick in leader mode is going to be more serious, focused, and perceptive (yes, even as a young teen). He’s the Batman of the team so he’s going to be the detective, the one who’s making the plans, the one who is going to get pissed at you if you are somehow putting the team at risk, and the one who is always thinking about the wellbeing of the team. 

The Titans don’t always agree on things, and Dick can catch the heat for certain decisions he wants to make or has made. He’s a confrontational person, so don’t be scared to have him argue back. 

I don’t have the exact wording, but he was arguing with Roy in some Teen Titans issues where he was essentially like:

"Come off it, Roy! You consider everything in a skirt your territory! Give the guy a break!"

"Wow, you're so sympathetic."

So, yeah, he’s not scared to call people out. 

When the Titans are getting along, Dick is very in tune with his team. He’s a caring person who can tell when his friends are upset. He’ll always listen to them or comfort them when they need it. He’ll also defend them against one another if need be. 

Dick out of leader mode is going to be more relaxed and more likely to joke with the others. Just remember that when Dick is younger, he’s not with the Titans all the time. He’s still going to be helping Batman out in Gotham, so it would be totally normal for him to run back to Gotham after a mission whereas everyone else might hang out together for longer. 

Dick’s a pretty good leader out of the gate, but if you’re writing him on the younger side, you could always write certain scenes that show ways he could improve in his leadership. Kind of like how the YJ animated series showed how Dick expected everyone to understand what he was doing without him having to say anything because he’s used to that dynamic with Batman. You can also show how he’s skilled at that age, but that even he can be knocked out or overpowered more easily than his older, more experienced self. 

[hops-hunny]

On Your Marks, Get Set, Go!!

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.5k

Request: @de4d-s0up“36,38,12 for Neville!❤️ fem reader and surprise me it can be fluff or smut OH OK IM EXCITED NOW😌 CONGRATS ON 300 BABES SO PROUD OF YOU<3”

Summary: (Y/n) spends so much time in Neville’s shadow that when she’s brought to the light she suffers from some massive stage fright and forgets her lines (not literally but like this sounds clever and you’ll get it soon. Just fuckin read it, yeah?

Warnings: None! A little angst but nothing too big, just majority fluff fluff fluff!

A/N: Can I just say that I love how well these flow together?? LIKE UGH YOU ALWAYS GIVE ME SOME GOOD SHIT TO WORK WITH!! This was very fun to write so tysm!

36.Admirer

38.Caught

12.“I’ve always liked you, you’ve just never noticed.”

If you were to ask (Y/n) who was the most attractive guy in the castle, she would 1000% say it was Neville Longbottom. For as long as she could remember, she was absolutely mesmerized by him and with time, he had gone from the adorable little guy she’d see in the hall into a charming young man who she could not be anywhere near. Yes he had a tendency to be a bit socially awkward sometimes but if anything, that added to his charm and if anything that made it even harder to talk to him. She didn’t want to have to face such an awkward interaction on why she was approaching him despite them not being friends nor having any classes together.

So she watched from afar, following him around the halls, sticking close to him whenever she could. It wasn’t in a creepy way however! She just found him to be beautiful and she couldn’t help herself. The more she thought about it she did sound like a stalker but that was such a strong word. And if he didn’t know of her existence could there really be any harm to what she was doing? That’s what she thought to herself as she stood behind the pillar, observing him as he conversed with his friends. Neville was currently laughing at something Dean had said as he shoved Seamus. (Y/n) couldn’t help the smile that was beginning to form at the boy’s laughter. His smile was simply contagious, a ray of sunshine indeed! She sighed to herself softly before biting the inside of her cheek.

“I wish he’d smile at me like that.” she murmured softly as to not alert them of her presence. If only she could speak, say even just one word to him. But alas, anytime she even attempted an utterance of a word her brain would short circuit and she went running the opposite way. It just wasn’t fair! She held tightly onto her books as dust fell from above her head, her (e/c) eyes growing wide as dust made its way into her nose. “O-oh no. Please, please ple-” she was cut off by the exact thing she didn’t want, a loud sneeze. She groaned, training her eyes to the ground in front of her. However if her luck wasn’t bad already a familiar pair of brown shoes stopped right in front of her. (Y/n) quickly snapped her head up looking at the boy of her affections. Neville stood in front of her, searching the pocket of vest for something until he pulled out a pale yellow handkerchief.

“You alright, love? That was some sneeze.” He said, holding out the small fabric to her as he offered her a small smile. She was stunned, Neville was talking to her. She kept her eyes locked with him with a shocked expression mouth agape. ‘Don’t just stand there!! Speak! Move! Do SOMETHING!!’. She slowly began to take small steps backwards, shaking her head ‘no’ frantically as she ran off down the hallway not even noticing she had dropped the little brown leather notebook she always kept on her. The gryfindor boy made a soft frown as he reached down, picking up the book. He flipped it open looking for a name relieved when he found a name on the inner cover. “(Y/n) (L/n), 6th year. Huh, I wonder why I’ve never seen her before?” He said to no one in particular as he walked back to Seamus and Dean who were laughing at the scene that had just played out in front of them.

“Geez Nev, we knew you were bad with women but that’s a whole new level!” Seamus choked out through laughs, reaching a freckled hand up to wipe the tears that had formed in his state of hysteria.

“Yeah seriously! What the hell did you even say?” Dean said, coming down from his laughter. Neville frowned some, shrugging his shoulders as he scratched the back of his head.

“I’ve got no clue. I saw she had sneezed and offered her my cloth and after I did that she just ran off! Is there something in my teeth? Do I smell bad?” He questioned, sniffing at his pits to check for any suspicious odor but found nothing but the smell of his body wash and deodorant. 

“No you don’t smell bad. Well no worse than usual that is.” Seamus said with a shrug. Neville rolled his eyes flicking him on the forehead with a scowl.

“You’re one to talk! Your natural scent is smoke and sweat, I don’t wanna hear it from you.” He grumbled out, shifting his eyes back to the book in his hands. The girl was clearly frightened of him, how was he supposed to get it back to her? “I just feel so bad, I don’t know what I did to make her so scared of me. I’ll wait a bit before I give it back to her.”

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

And he had done just that. (Y/n) had noticed her journal was missing but didn’t think much of it. She had a habit of losing things and assumed it would get back to her in some way and plus, it wasn’t that important. It was just filled with notes and sketches of the different mushrooms she had found on the castle grounds. Whenever she had a free period or a bit of free time on her hands, one of her favorite things to do was identify rare breeds of fungi and other various plants. And although she had missed doing that, it had only been a week and it's not like she didn’t have parchment. The only thing that was frustrating about that was that parchment and scrolls lacked the same convenience that notebooks had. (she didn’t know why Hogwarts wouldn’t just get with the times. Where were they, Camelot?)However she had faith one of her friends would bring it back to her. (Y/n) didn’t have many which is why she wondered what was taking so long for the return of her notebook.

“Hey guys, have you seen my notebook? You know the little brown one I always carry?” she asked, plopping down on the old worn down couch in the (y/h/h) common room.

“Hmm, nope! Last time I saw it you were carrying it. Why? Did you lose it?” Gwen said as she continued to read her book.

“You’re so bad with keeping track of things. You’d lose your head if it wasn’t on your shoulders.” Marco said, rolling his eyes at his friend's irresponsible behavior.

“Oh come on that was ONE time! When the potion said it’d blow your head off I didn’t think it meant quite literally!” she huffed out, crossing her arms across her chest defensively. Her eyes lit up as she was reminded of a detail. “And besides, didn’t you drink that exact potion afterwards because you wanted to know what it felt like to have no head?”

Marco was silent, whistling as he avoided eye contact with his friend before his eyes landed on a familiar lanky brunette holding a certain little book that had been missing. “Hey, isn’t that the guy you fancy? He’s got your book!” he said, pointing in the direction in which Neville was coming from. (Y/n) gasped, gathering her stuff as she muttered something about ‘being late to class’ but right as she stood up, she was yanked back down by Gwen. “Woah, not so fast track star! How are you going to get your book if you leave?”

“Y-you can give it to me! Tell him you know me. See ya!” she said standing back up but once again, she was yanked back down. “Would you quit it?!”

“No can do buckeroo. You’ve gotta get your book back somehow. Neville’s a pretty honorable guy, I highly doubt he’s gonna give your book to some people who could possibly know you. He’d wanna give it directly to you himself.” Gwen said, still not looking up from her book. (Y/n) let out a defeated sigh. She was right. Neville is the type to make sure to get back a lost item to the person themselves to avoid any chance of them not receiving it. She knew that better than anyone.

Neville wiped his free hand on his pants leg, eliminating the thin layer of sweat that had gathered on it. He was nervous to say the least. It wasn’t that he didn’t have any female friends, it was just that the female friends he did have didn’t look at him like he was you-know-who himself. Since their last meeting, he had thought about the girl a lot. He couldn’t recall seeing her before and he wasn’t the type of person people hated without any rhyme or reason so it baffled him. Someone found him intimidating? That was a new one! Neville had taken the liberty of asking his friends what he could do to be more welcoming for people but they all just seemed to laugh in his face or scoff. 

He found the question to be an absurd one for him to be asking too but for some reason, all he wanted to do was be less scary. Less scary and more approachable to the girl so maybe, maybe he could talk to the mysterious beauty who he’d never notice. That was another thing that made him quite angry. In all his years of Hogwarts, how hadn’t he noticed such a rose in its prime? Even in her frazzled state her refinement was more than apparent. She had beautiful glowing (e/c) eyes, the cutest little nose, and two beautiful petals that were more commonly known as lips. Even now as he got closer and she had that same damn look on her face, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on and he had done a lot more than just laying his eyes on girl’s.

“I-I believe this belongs to you?” He said, holding the book out in front of her. However, all the girl did was stare up at him with wide (e/c) eyes and her pretty little lips parted in horror. The girl to her right cleared her throat, nudging her not so blasé

 in her action. (Y/n) shifted to her eyes before quickly bringing them back to Neville as she closed her mouth. “Well it’s not that I believe it belongs to you, I know it’s yours. You dropped it when you ran away from me the other day.” He said looking away as he scratched the back of his head with his hand, running his fingers through his luscious locks of brown. “Now that I think about it, that doesn’t automatically make it yours. I’m sorry for assuming! You could’ve been holding onto it for a friend or or-”

“It’s hers. Thank you Neville, that was very kind of you and I’m sure (Y/n) appreciates it. Right (Y/n)?” Gwen asked, handing her the book from the boy's hands. (Y/n) just continued to stare. No movement, no indication that she did appreciate it.

“I’ve always liked you, you just never noticed.” she said softly, continuing on with her intense gaze. Her breath hitched as her eyes almost popped out of her head, both hands flying to her mouth. Not one person spoke, all her friend’s and Neville were just as shocked as she was at the announcement. “No, no, no. Fuck!” she mumbled with a great emphasis on the last word. She quickly stood up, running away making sure to not forget her book this time. 

(Y/n) continued to whip and run through the hallway, going as fast as her legs could carry her. She paid no mind to where she was going and quite frankly she didn’t care. Anywhere far away from Neville was good enough. If him catching her behind the pillar that day was the biggest embarrassment of the year, this was the biggest embarrassment of the century. How could she speak so freely, so carelessly? All those years of sneaking around, admiring him from a far were thrown down the drain. Things would never be able to go back to how they were without him noticing her there. She slid down the wall, pulling her knees to her chest as she sobbed loudly. It didn’t matter, no one came to this hallway so she didn’t have to think about what would happen if someone heard her. She sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve before glancing at the book at her side. Out of a fit of rage she picked it up, throwing it at the wall in front of her. She watched as the book fell with a thud, pages open to a random observation she had made about a spore specimen.

“I’m starting to think I’m bad luck. It appears as though anytime I’m around, you’ve got tears coming out of those pretty little eyes of yours.” Neville said softly, kneeling in front of the girl. (Y/n) brought her head up, (e/c) eyes staring into hazel ones.

“You...you think my eyes are pretty?” she questioned, tilting her head some as she sat up a bit straighter. Neville reached forward, gripping her small hand in his much larger one.

“Not just pretty, the prettiest. After I met with you that first time, I couldn’t stop thinking about them all night. Despite how horrified you looked at me, they were still the prettiest shade of (e/c) I’d ever seen.” He said, smiling softly at the girl’s flustered expression. “You know I’m a bit relieved to know that you like me.”

“R-really? Why’s that?” (Y/n) questioned, gripping his hand back as he helped pull her off the ground.

“Because, that means you don’t think of me as some scary monster! I was beginning to grow quite worried, y’know?” He said, chuckling a bit. (Y/n) gasped, smacking him on the shoulder a bit.

“Hey! I was not that bad….was I?” she asked, looking into his eyes. Neville bit his lip, looking away from her. “Oh come on! Can you blame me though? I’ve had a crush on you since we were on the train to Hogwarts for the first time. I remember I was so angry that I wasn’t the one who found Trevor for you.” she said, clinging onto his arm a bit. Neville looked a bit shocked at that revelation. Most girls didn’t pay him much attention till around 5th year, had she really liked him for that long?

“Does that mean that this,” he leaned down, pecking her on the lips before pulling away, “Was your first kiss?” He asked. (Y/n) had that same expression she had during the encounter a bit ago however this time, something was a bit different. She gripped his shirt before bringing his lips back down to hers kissing him with feverish intensity. Neville let out a small moan, gripping at her waist tightly as he pinned her against the wall causing her feet to dangle in the air.

(Y/n) was right on something, things would never be the same. But sometimes change was good. That was proven to her as Neville had his tongue down her throat.

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 41

of the wwx emperor au that’s back to being called Emperor Wei WuXian And His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Birthday

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 Part 1 | Chapter 22 Part 2 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36 | Chapter 37 | Chapter 38 | Chapter 39 | Chapter 40

The South Lakes courtyard is wrapped in gloom.

Wei Ying feels guilty for his late arrival. For the second day in the row he had promised A-Yuan that he would visit, and had failed to show before the boy had been put to bed.

The lingering feeling of regret over placing Jin ZiXuan in the dungeons disappears completely. Had the ridiculous peacock not made a scene outside the council hall, Wei Ying would have gotten at least fifteen minutes with A-Yuan, even if those fifteen minutes only allowed him to put the kid to sleep with an obnoxious fairytale or two.

He comforts himself with the knowledge that tomorrow is the Gifting Ceremony, which means that every clan and sect should be preparing to leave the Immortal Mountain. Of course, having placed Jin ZiXuan in the dungeon, Wei Ying must bear Jin GuangShan’s presence a little longer. He is sorely tempted to release the brat just so he can see Jin GuangShan’s backside pass through the Five Phoenix Gate with all the other sect leaders.

He will not do so. He cannot show lenience to someone who had so blatantly disrespected him in front of half the Council. 

It does not bother Wei Ying so much that Jin ZiXuan had drawn his sword; they had seen each other compete mere days ago, and Young Master Jin had to know that he had no chance of winning, even if Wei Ying had been alone and unprotected. It does bother him that Jin ZiXuan had acted in such an unreasonable and stupid manner. Perhaps the engagement had meant a great deal to him. Perhaps Jin ZiXuan does care for shijie more than he is capable of displaying thought that thick veneer of narcissism and arrogance.

But despite his earlier words to uncle Jiang, Wei Ying has never truly believed Jin ZiXuan to be stupid. Smug and self-important, yes. Vain and haughty, heavens yes. But stupid enough to attack the Emperor in front of dozens of guards and Sect Leaders? Sect Leaders who may fawn over his father on good days, but are perfectly capable of turning on him the moment the Jin Sect fortune begins to decline?

Wei Ying does not think Jin ZiXuan stupid, but he does think the boy’s pride and arrogance are likely to leave him vulnerable to the wrong type of influence. He would wager that the true instigator of today’s events was not Jin ZiXuan, but someone standing directly behind him. 

But to what purpose?

“Finally,” Wen Qing’s voice comes from the darkness, “I was about to send guards in the search of you.”

Wei Ying pauses, half-way across the courtyard, his stomach twisting in anticipation, “Wen Ning is back? We have a response?”

“We do,” she says, and he can read nothing from her voice, or her vague silhouette near the pavilion door, “come inside. It has taken me nearly an hour to decode it; I had to ask Granny to help. She is very upset with you, by the way.”

Wei Ying grimaces. It is not that he does not trust her, or Granny Wen, or Wen Ning and Uncle Four, but the more there are of those who know a secret, the less likely it is to remain a secret. He supposes that all the years of Nie HuaiSang’s influence could be blamed for his overabundance of caution. A-Sang is a firm believer in telling people only those things that they absolutely needed to know.

“Jiang Cheng knew,” she says, her tone now accusing.

“I was not the one to tell him,” Wei Ying says.

He leaves out the part where he would have told him, regardless. He would have felt guilty about keeping anything of such magnitude from Jiang Cheng, but it had been A-Sang who had decided that Jiang Cheng should be informed. Wei Ying had simply... not questioned the decision.

“Get inside,” she says “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Wei Ying expects to meet Granny Wen’s accusing glare the moment he steps into the pavilion, but the only people waiting for him are Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng. He heaves a sigh of relief, even as he habitually moves to prevent Wen Ning from bowing.

“Uncle Four?” he says.

“Stayed behind,” Wen Ning says, then rushes to explain, “we were not sure what the message said, and he would not try and decode it in YiLing. We thought-- if things turned out badly, it may help to have him outside the Immortal Mountain.”

“The message,” Wei Ying says, impatient, “Where is it?”

Jiang Cheng hands him a piece of paper. Wen Qing’s lovely lines are obvious in each character, the ink still slightly damp in places. He takes care not to smudge it; A-Sang will want to see it as soon as possible.

It is an agreement. Wen RuoHan has agreed to his proposal.

Wei Ying’s knees feel weak; he fights the urge to sit down on the floor.

“Where is the original?”

Wen Qing is the one to hand it over, Wen RuoHan’s signature large and stark, his personal seal nestled next to the red Sun Seal of the Wen Sect.

He grins at Jiang Cheng, and finds Jiang Cheng grinning back. The grin is wide, making him look young and careless, the way he had not been since all of them were children together, hunting imaginary demons through Iron Palm Palace halls.

“Uncle Four has gotten two more messages from his men in the Nightless City,” Wen Ning says, “The rumor is that the Second Young Master of the Wen Sect has gotten himself into some trouble with the YingChuan Wang Sect. The Sect Leader’s youngest daughter. Some rumors say that he has already been married, quickly and quietly, as the trouble is-- uh-- time sensitive. Other rumors state that the wedding will take place soon."

“Granny thinks that Wen RuoHan will send an official letter to the Immortal Mountain,” Wen Qing says, “as a means of informing the Emperor of his youngest son’s indiscretion, apologizing for the Wen Sect absence, and asking for forbearance in these trying times.”

“That old fucker,” Wei Ying says in delight, and does not even mind when Wen Qing slaps him on the shoulder.

Even a year ago, he would have thought it impossible to feel even a grudging sort of respect for Wen RuoHan, but the man has managed to throughly impress him.

“He should be in prison for treason,” Wen Qing says, “Instead, you have provided him with everything he has ever wanted.”

She sounds vaguely disapproving; it is impossible to tell if she objects to the plan, the methods used, or the fact that he had not consulted her ahead of time. Still, Wei Ying is far too happy with the outcome to feel guilty for keeping secrets.  

“Good,” he retorts, tucking the letter into his sleeve, “and may we never see another war or a rebellion as a result. Where is Granny? I am more than prepared to be scolded now.”

“She is with Song Lan,” Jiang Cheng answers in Wen Qing’s place, “he arrived not long before you did.”

“Song Lan? Why is he here?”

Before anyone has had a chance to answer the question, the man himself is already hovering at the entrance to the receiving hall. Elated by their success with Wen RuoHan, Wei Ying does not immediately notice the tightness of Song Lan’s features, or the wary set of his shoulders. The moment he does, however, his earlier euphoria vanishes in an instant.

Between Lan Zhan, the Council, and Jin ZiXuan’s stupidity, he had forgotten the initial reason behind Song Lan and uncle XingChen’s arrival. Now, seeing the troubled expression on Song Lan’s face, he feels a heavy sense of foreboding.

“He is here,” Wei Ying says, “the person you are hunting. He is in the Immortal Mountain.”

It is not a question, and Song Lan’s curt nod does not fill him with surprise. It seems expected somehow, that this news would come at the heels of the other, as if the string of events was somehow predestined.

He grins humorlessly, and rubs the side of his nose.

Destiny is not set in stone. Perhaps in the course and culmination of human life, there exists some objective certainty that is both transcendent and beyond human control, but his approach has always been a rational one, and now that same rationality offers a different answer.

This is no preordination. Wei Ying has simply come to anticipate that any success, any accomplishment, any occasion in which he may find joy and contentment, will come with a cost.

The realization is bitter and unhappy, and he pushes it away.

“Tell me what you have discovered.”

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Can u do a ethan x mc proposal but it does not go as planned but finally he proposes and she accepts please😁😁

“I’m not letting you plan date night anymore, because you give the most vague answers,” Naomi yells, her voice coming through string from the en-suite.

“I gave you very adequate information,” Ethan argues.

“You and I have different interpretations then. You won’t tell me where we’re going, you barely gave me a dress code.”

“I’m sorry, aren’t you the one who’s always saying that you look good in everything, no matter the occasion?”

Ethan nervously pats his jacket pocket for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. The small black ring box from Harry Winston is still there, and a bit of his anxiety ebbs away.

The ring has been burning a hole through his proverbial pocket from the moment it was purchased. There have been multiple occasions that Ethan has had to stop himself from blurting out, “Will you marry me?” to his unsuspecting girlfriend: while they’re eating dinner, on their way to work, in the middle of their dumb bickering.

So he’s been meticulously planning this proposal for 2 months now, and he has everything planned to a tee. It starts with dinner at one of Naomi’s favorite seafood restaurants downtown (he has an in with the owner and head chef), then they take a stroll through Boston Common and the Public Garden, admiring the ducks, smelling the roses before he eventually proposes. Ethan is a perfectionist and he wants the night to be perfect. He wants something they can look back on 10 years from now, 20 years from now with fondness, because Naomi deserves nothing less than that.

“I look amazing no matter the occasion,” Naomi quips. She steps out of the en-suite, and Ethan catches her slipping on a few bracelets. “But are we going to be by the water? Are these heels appropriate? Will I need a jacket?”

Ethan looks her up and down quickly, deciding that the faux leather skirt and sweater she’s wearing is a good enough outfit. “You look great, and the weather is perfect, you don’t need a jacket.”

“You better not just be saying that to rush me out the front door.”

That’s a good point, and one he hadn’t thought of yet. Ethan checks the time on his watch and inhales sharply. Their reservation is in 40 minutes, and it’s a Saturday night in Boston, so he expects congestion downtown. “Speaking of that, we need to go.”

“Alright, give me a few more minutes, Ramsey.”

“No, we need to go now, Naomi.”

Naomi knows her boyfriend is a stickler for order, but he’s been riding her ass all day over this date night. He’s never been this fussy before.

She saunters over to him, making a point to sway her hips as she does so. As soon as she’s within touching distance, Ethan wraps an arm around her waist as he pulls her close.

“We’re going to have a nice night tonight,” Naomi says. She presses her thumb to his forehead and massages away the worry lines. “You made me get all dolled up, and I flat ironed my hair, so I’m willing it into existence in hopes that my effort was not in vain.” Ethan doesn’t say anything but the corner of his mouth flits up, and Naomi counts it as a smile. “Now, can you stop being such a fuddy duddy?”

Ethan rolls his eyes at her immature vocabulary, but he nods nonetheless. “Only for you.”

“Good.” Naomi gives him a quick peck on the lips and pulls away before he can deepen it. “Now, let me put on my shoes and we can head out.”

~v~

“I’m sorry, we don’t have any reservations for Ethan Ramsey tonight.”

As soon as the words leave the host’s mouth, Ethan feels the blood in his veins pulsing with rage. There’s no way that’s possible, seeing as he made the reservation well over a month ago. 

“Check again,” Ethan grits out. The host stammers a bit, but he listens to the command nonetheless.

Naomi bites the inside of her cheek as she watches the scene play out in front of her. Ethan’s using his attending voice, the voice reserved for combative patients and interns.

“Again, there’s no reservation for you,” the host stammers. “Maybe, you picked a different–”

The young guy doesn’t even get to finish that thought, because Ethan shoots him a glare sharp enough to cut through steel.

“I didn’t ask for you to come up with any ideas on your own,” Ethan says, his jaw clenching so tight, it's a miracle it doesn’t snap. “What I need you to do is simply call Frank and tell him that Ethan Ramsey wants to speak with him.”

Frank, the owner of the restaurant and a former patient of Ethan’s, should be able to sort this all out.

A few minutes later, Ethan spots Frank walking towards the front of the restaurant. The two men lock eyes and Frank stops dead in his tracks upon seeing Ethan. He quickly schools his features, plastering a wide smile on his face before he approaches.

“Dr. Ramsey, so lovely to see you!”

Ethan isn’t feeling as friendly. He doesn’t return the smile or the pleasantries, just taking a few confident strides over to Frank, ushering him to a quiet corner. “Frank, remember when I personally spoke to you over a month ago and I told you I planned to propose tonight? I told you I wanted a reservation, and you told me that you’d personally see to it that I have the best seat in the house?”

Frank swallows hard and averts his gaze. Looking into the eyes of a pissed off Ethan Ramsey is something like staring at Medusa head-on. “I did say that, yes,” he concedes.

“So flash forward to tonight, why am I being told that there’s no reservation?”

“I apologize, Doctor. There’s clearly been a breakdown of communication between myself and my staff, and I take full responsibility.”

“As you should!” Ethan snaps. His voice goes up an octave, and a few patrons of the restaurant turn in his direction, startled by the outburst.

Okay, so being 38 years old and throwing a tantrum in public isn’t his best look. Taking a deep breath, Ethan counts to 3 and tries to regain his composure. So there’s no reservation, but maybe there’s a way this night can be salvaged.

“Well, just give us an available table, any one will do,” Ethan says. Franks wrings his hands together and Ethan doesn’t like the sight of it one bit.

“Unfortunately, we are fully booked for the evening.” Ethan’s nostrils flare and there’s a slight ringing in his ears at the admission. “But I can squeeze you in next weekend, at any time you want! And for the inconvenience, it’ll be on the house for you and the lovely lady.”

“If you think I’m ever stepping foot in this place ever again, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Ethan walks off and takes Naomi’s hand. She looks up at him, her gaze soft. “What happened?”

“They somehow forgot I made a reservation for tonight,” Ethan grumbles. “And we can't get a table because it’s packed. I’m sorry.”

Naomi frowns and squeezes Ethan’s hand. “Well it’s not your fault, so you don’t have to apologize to me. It’s their loss. I’m sorry because it’s clear that you put a lot of thought into this date night.”

She doesn’t even know the half of it, Ethan thinks to himself.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Naomi adds, tugging on her boyfriend.

“Where are we going?”

“A place with a lot less pomp and circumstance.”

They end up in a hole in the wall lobster shack near the harbor, eating lobster rolls and sharing a bowl of clam chowder. They’re the most overdressed couple visiting the establishment, earning interesting stares from the other patrons.

“You and I are slightly overdressed,” Ethan teases, awkwardly tugging the collar of his button-down.

Naomi looks around and then at herself before laughing. “I think I’m going to keep a spare change of clothes in your car just for nights like this. But I think we look very good. It’s always nice to not have to wear scrubs.”

“Again, I’m sorry about the reservation at Frank’s not working out. I know it’s one of your favorite restaurants.”

“True, but I’ll survive. For now, I’m content just being here with you.” Ethan watches as Naomi opens a pack of saltine crackers, crushes them in the palm of her hand and pours them into the bowl of chowder. He pulls a face, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by the young resident.

“I can feel you judging me, Ramsey,” Naomi says.

“I’m just observing your messy eating habits, Valentine,” he shoots back. He briefly wonders if she’ll want to keep her maiden name. Will she stay Dr. Valentine? Dr. Ramsey? Dr. Valentine-Ramsey? It’s an outdated tradition, adopting a new last name upon marriage, but the thought of her becoming Naomi Ramsey makes him excited. It rolls off the tongue rather nicely.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at her, but now Naomi is looking back at him. “Hello, earth to Ethan.”

It snaps him out of his daze and he blinks a few times in an attempt to regain his bearings. “Huh?”

“You keep staring at me. Do I have something on my face?”

“No, you’re fine. I guess I just got caught up in looking at you.”

Even though the lighting in the lobster shack is dim, Ethan can still see the apples of Naomi’s cheeks turning red.

While things at the restaurant didn’t turn out like he planned, this, just being here with Naomi as she devours the clam chowder that they were supposed to share, feels extremely right.

His hand tingles and the urge to whip out the ring box, right here, right now is strong. Just do it!

Don’t even think about it!

Stop being an idiot and ask her already!

The tiny voice in his head only grows louder the more seconds tick on. Impulsively, he reaches forward and grabs Naomi’s hand, stopping her from bringing her spoon to her mouth. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Naomi says back. “But can you not grab my hand while I’m trying to eat?”

Ethan drops her hand quickly, flushing as he does so. “I wanted to take you out tonight because I wanted to celebrate with you. This past year and a half has been–”

“Help! Help!”

The shrill cry cuts Ethan short and he head snaps around to find the source of the noise. He sees a woman frantically standing over a coughing man. The man is clutching his throat, his face turning an ugly shade of purple. He’s choking.

Naomi and Ethan lock eyes with each other before they both abandon their table and rush forward to help, never able to turn off the fact that they’re doctors.

Ethan sighs, as the moment has been thoroughly ruined. So maybe proposing in the lobster shack won’t be happening.

~v~

So dinner was a bust two times over for the evening, but Ethan tries his hardest to stay optimistic. It’s a beautiful night, the weather is calm, and the Common is surprisingly sparse for a weekend night, so he and Naomi don’t have to deal with too many people.

“This has been an eventful night,” Ethan says.

“You mean you don’t get turned away from a 4-star restaurant and then perform the Heimlich on lobster shack patrons every day?”

“No, it’s usually one or the other. More of the life saving, less getting turned away at restaurants.”

“Well, at least I’ll have an interesting story to tell my friends at work.”

They stop at a bench, right in front of the giant weeping willow, Naomi’s favorite part of the park and sit down. She rests her head on his shoulder, sighing deeply.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting tired already?”

“It was a long week at work,” Naomi says, feeling the need to defend herself. “My boss has been working me like crazy. Not to mention, it’s been a busy day.”

Ethan chuckles and kisses the top of her head, inhaling the scent of shampoo. “Your boss sounds like a real piece of work.”

“Yes, but I let him get away with it because I love him.”

“He’s sounds like a lucky man.”

“He is.”

A family of ducks trots past their feet, earning a few coos and smiles from Naomi, though she otherwise leaves them alone to roam.

A comfortable silence settles between the two of them, neither one of them deeming it necessary to speak. Finally after all of the chaos the past few hours threw at them, it’s nice to just sit in quiet.

Is now finally a good time? Ethan thinks to himself. Surely nothing else can impede on the proposal, as the universe has screwed with him enough for one night.

The wind picks up slightly, a strong gusts makes a few tendrils of Naomi’s hair fly into her face, and she huddles closer to him, trying to steal his body heat. He wraps his arm around her shoulder, holding her tight against him.

“I’ve been driving myself crazy all day trying to think of a way to broach this with you,” Ethan starts, breaking the silence.

“Broach what?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking recently. Mostly about us, especially with you being in your third year of residency, and how our future might look because of that.”

The hair on the back of her neck stands up, but Naomi doesn’t fully know why. Why does Ethan want to talk about their future? Why did he feel the need to take her out on the date in order to start the conversation?

The wind picks up again, and this time, Naomi hears thunder clap somewhere close by. “Is it supposed to rain tonight?”

“What? No.” Ethan checked the weather more times than he’d care to admit. It’s supposed to be a perfect evening in Boston.

“Are you sure?” 

Naomi sounds skeptical, and Ethan huffs. “Rookie, trust me, if there’s one thing I’ve done today, it’s check weather reports.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Ethan feels it. A single drop of moisture hits his cheek.

It doesn’t take long after that first raindrop for the others to come. In a quick burst, the rain falls, harsh and heavy.

Naomi shrieks and stands up, trying to look for shelter. Ethan isn’t as quick as she is, as he’s still stuck on the fact that it’s raining.

The pure absurdity of the day is so ridiculous, and a low chuckle forms low in his throat until he’s actually laughing. He laughs hard, the force of it actually making him clutch his side.

Ethan looks up at the sky, uncaring that the rain is pelting him relentlessly. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Ethan, what are you doing?” Naomi asks. “You’re going to get soaked!”

“My car is on the other side of the park, we’re going to get soaked regardless.”

“So you want to, what? Just sit in the rain?”

“Yes.”

“Come on, now isn’t the time for petulance,” Naomi says. She grabs Ethan’s hand and tries to tug him up, but he doesn’t budge.

“No. I have spent weeks trying to plan the perfect date for you, and it’s been a shitshow from start to finish. For some reason, the universe has decided that today isn’t my day, so instead of fighting it, I’m going to lean into it.”

Naomi rolls her eyes. Ethan has been beating himself up over this night not going the way he wanted it to, and she doesn’t understand why. Yes, Naomi likes fancy restaurants as much as the next girl, but she’s never been a high maintenance diva, nor has she ever demanded that Ethan be perfect. 

“Why have you been putting so much pressure on tonight?” Naomi asks.

“For you!”

“I never asked you to! Now stop being such a baby and let’s go home!”

Ethan sighs and drudges himself up. His now soaking wet clothes make the task more difficult than it should be as now he feels 10 pounds heavier.

“I’m not being a baby,” Ethan argues.

“You’re acting like one.”

“You’re a blanket hog.”

The statement is so random, it makes Naomi do a double take. “What?”

“You’re a blanket hog,” Ethan repeats. “And you always put your freezing cold feet on mine when we’re in bed. You have a terrible singing voice, but I love listening to you when we’re at home. Your grooming products have completely taken over my bathroom, and it’s fine, because I love the smell of whatever fruity shower gel you use. You spend way too much time watching inaccurate medical dramas for a woman that graduated top of her class at Johns Hopkins. You steal my food, as evidenced by the fact that you completely hijacked the clam chowder we were sharing. You drive me insane, and it’s been that way from the moment we met, but I wouldn’t have it any other way, because I love you.”

“I love the way your nose crinkles when you smile. I love the way you speak French when you’re mad at me. I love that you spoil Jenner. I love how passionate you are and how you’re willing to fight for people you care about, especially your patients. I love that you aren’t afraid to challenge me, whether it’s about work or something at home. I love that you have always believed in me, even when I was so stupid to believe in myself.”

Ethan reaches into his pocket and pulls out the small ring box before dropping down on one knee. Just seeing him do that is enough to earn a gasp of shock from Naomi.

“Ethan?” She can’t breathe. She can’t think. The only thing Naomi can hear is the sound of her beating heart. “What’s in the box?”

“What do you think is in the box?”

“I think it’s an engagement ring.” With trembling fingers, Ethan slowly opens the box, revealing the stunning 4 carat cushion cut diamond.

“You’d be correct.”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

“Oh no. After all the trouble I went through, you have to let me get through my entire speech.”

“Okay.”

“I didn’t see you coming at all. I wasn’t looking for love when you came into my life, and I was quite content being single. But little by little, you broke through and made yourself a permanent fixture in my life, and I’ve been all the better for it. You have all of me, mind, body, and soul, and usually the thought of relinquishing so much control terrifies me, but not with you. You are smart, and kind, and outspoken, and beautiful, and compassionate, and I don’t know what I did in this lifetime or the last one to deserve you, but I intend on spending the rest of my days being someone worthy of you. So, Naomi Marie Valentine, will you marry me?”

The tears are flowing freely, and Naomi can hardly see anymore, but she nods nonetheless. “Y-yes!”

“Yes?”

“Yes!”

Ethan doesn’t waste another second, plucking the ring out of the box and sliding it onto Naomi’s left ring finger. Once the ring is securely on, he stands up and wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her into the air slightly.

As soon as her feet are back on the ground and she’s steady again, Naomi grabs Ethan’s face and pulls him into a kiss. Neither of them seem to mind the fact that it’s still pouring, the cold rain seeping through their clothes.

“I love you,” Naomi says quickly, before pulling Ethan into another kiss.

“I love you too.”

“And though things didn’t work out the way you wanted them to, this proposal was perfect.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Because of this, I got my cliche kiss in the rain.”

Ethan smiles. He hadn’t thought of it like that. “That’s true.”

“And think about it, I think this will be a much more interesting story to tell our future kids someday.”

“You make some excellent points, future Missus Ramsey.”

A thrill courses through her at the name. “Mhmm, I like the sound of that.”

“Good, because that’s what I’m going to be calling you for the rest of our lives.”

~v~

Tags: @aylamreads @fanmantrashcan @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @writinghereandthere @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @kaavyaethanramsey @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @whatchique @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @mvalentine @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey 

[the-hoarse-bard]

Yes Man was very forthcoming with the plan to take over Vegas. We'd need to get the chip to him, upload his AI onto it, and then knock off House somehow and use the chip to replace him with Yes Man. As we stepped out of the Tops, though, we were stopped by a man with an oddly large hat. "The eyes of the mighty Caesar are upon you. He admires your accomplishments and bestows upon you his Mark. Come to the fort. We have something you'd want." He handed me some kind of medallion on a necklace.

At a second glance, I recognized the man. The cold eyes and voice trying way too hard to come off as calculated. It was Vulpes, the same legionary I'd encountered at Nipton. Luckily for all involved, he ran off before we could kick his ass. I also realized he probably meant they'd captured Benny. Boone turned to me, "You'd better go alone. Don't know if I could stop myself from opening fire on that many legionnaires." I told him to wait at the Lucky 38 in that case. It'd be just ED-E and me, it seems, and we hit the road.

The Fort was across the Colorado river, and only accessible via Cottonwood Cove south of Novac. Soon enough, we found ourselves back at the 188 without much worth mentioning. It was sunset by the time we got there, and I'd ordered a gecko steak for dinner from the bar. Then, I took notice of a strangely dressed woman standing around one of the tables and decided to strike up a conversation. I do love ED-E, but he's not much fun to talk to.

The strange girl spoke first as I approached, "No offense, but you look like you've travelled a long way down some bad roads. Where'd you come from?" I told her I'd come from Goodsprings, which was, well, half true. She seemed surprised, "Really? Huh, you have come a long way, then. Never been there myself, but I've met a few traders who've passed through. Well, welcome then. I'm Veronica, I live in a hole in the ground." I gave her a look, and she clarified, "Well, a bunker. I like it my way better." I told her that explained why I hadn't seen her last time I'd come through the 188. As we were talking, my steak arrived.

I asked what she was doing out here instead of in her bunker as I cut my steak, "Well, I'm not there much anymore. Usually out here, picking up supplies. I think my family prefers it that way these days. Someone's gotta pick up the groceries, you know?" I nodded as I was still struggling with the tough reptile meat.

Veronica was quiet for a moment, then asked, "So, hey. Can I ask you something on the level?" I looked up at her as I finally finished cutting through the gecko steak, "I had a run=in with a group calling themselves the Brotherhood of Steel. Pretty strange bunch. You know anything about them?" I chewed on my steak as I thought, and responded that I did. They had a reputation behind them of violence, but if you didn't have any dangerous tech, they'd probably leave you alone. She looked relieved, "Oh, good. I can't afford anything like that anyway. Say, where are you headed anyway?" I told her I was on my way to meet an.... Old friend. She responded, "Must be a pretty interesting relationship to bring you all the way out here." I nodded, not wanting to get into the whole Benny story.

I finished up my dinner in short order, when Veronica spoke again, "I'll be honest. You're the first person I've met out here who looks like they can handle themselves. I'll be honest, there are places I want to see that'd be dangerous to go alone. What do you think? Maybe we could travel together." I thought about it and sighed, asking what she was hoping to see, "Nowhere in particular really, just hoping to see more of the world. Get a fresh perspective, see if there's anything I could learn from." Seemed reasonable enough, and I asked what she could bring to the table, mentioning she didn't look like much, "Well, good, that was the look I was going for. Just trust me, you'll be glad you brought me along..." I raised an eyebrow. That was a bit ominous, but judging her by her meager appearance would be a misplay.

I told Veronica she could come if she wanted, and she pumped her fist, "Yes! Don't worry, if I turn out to be a burden, we can split up any time. No hard feelings. Oh! And I should probably mention... I asked you about the Brotherhood of Steel because... I'm one of them." I gave her a shocked look, the Brotherhood hadn't been seen around here in years, "I asked because I had to know how you'd react when I told you. We've made a lot of enemies over the years. You still okay bringing me along?" I told her it was actually comforting knowing she had some kind of combat training, and she pulled out a power fist and slipped it onto her right hand and said, "Thanks for taking a chance on a young girl from California with stars in her eyes and a pneumatic gauntlet on her fist."

That business settled, the sun had set, and we found some spare beds to go to sleep for the night.

[slade-neko]

Saw this video game tag thing pop up on my dash a few days ago. Wanted to do it.

1. First game you played obsessively? Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, I believe I was 5yo. Still waiting on that FF7 Remake treatment.

2. A game that has influenced you creatively? Writing, drawing, etc. Well if I play a game and like it, then I'll create sims of it. Does that count?

3. Who did you play with as a kid? My brother from the day I was born.

4. Who do you play with now? My brother FROM THE DAY I WAS BORN.

5. Ever use cheat codes? I wasn't lying when I made this post. {link}

6. Ever buy strategy guides? Yes! Mainly to look at the artwork though. (Don't need no guide!)

7. Any games you have multiple copies of? Lots of games, most being Left 4 Dead with 6 copies (3 Xbox 360, 1 PC case, 2 PC digitally.) What can I say, its a GOOD GAME!

8. Rarest/Most expensive game in your collection? Gold cartridge Legend of Zelda Ocarina of Time (maybe that's rare?)

9. Most regrettable purchase? I don't regret my purchases, but I have received games I have never played like Cubix (PS2) no clue where that game came from, but I have it somehow. Madagascar (Xbox 360) came with my Xbox 360, never opened it from its case. And Monsters Inc. Scream Arena (Gamecube) or something... it was a gift.

10. Ever go to a midnight game release or stand in line for hours? No, because then I'd have to interact with people.

11. Have you ever made new friends from playing video games? I'm only friends with people BECAUSE of video games, so yes.

12. Ever get picked on for liking games? No, that'd be ridiculous.

13. A game you’ve never played that everyone else has? Probably a lot, I'd say Call of Duty, but I technically played CoD 1, 2, and 4. The campaign mode was alright, but I don't really care for CoD games at ALL.

14. Favorite game music? Koji Kondo and Grant Kirkhope are two BIG ones.

15. If it was a requirement to get a game related tattoo, what would you pick? Triforce is the most basic option, but I'd rather not get a tattoo.

16. Favorite game to play with your friends IRL? Super Smash Bros. Brawl with hacks, but that was over a decade ago.

17. Ever lose a friend over a game? No, that'd be ridiculous.

18. Would you date someone that hates gaming? No, that'd be RIDICULOUS.

19. Favorite handheld console? PSP. 3DS is great, but PSP Monster Hunter has ALL of my portable gaming memories. Like playing in school after End of Grade tests with my friend.

20. Game that you know like the back of your hand? Sims 4 I like to think I know everything about Left 4 Dead. Quite a bit about Monster Hunter, more so of a series though than a specific game.

21. Game that you didn’t like or understand as a kid but love now? I'd say Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic. I loved it as a kid, but had a lot of complex pen & paper RPG mechanics that I never understood. I understand a lot more of it now, but its still complex as all heck. I just know you hit things, they die.

22. Do you wear game related clothing/accessories? That's the only thing I wear.

23. The game that you’ve logged the most hours into? Not sure so I'll list a few. Sims 4, Smash Bros. Brawl, Monster Hunter (its a series though), or Left 4 Dead

24. First Pokemon game? Leaf Green

25. Were you ever an arcade game player? No, don't like paying to play.

26. Ever form any gaming rivalries? No.

27. Game that makes you rage? I don't get mad at games, but I had a custom modded Hard Eight mutation in Left 4 Dead that is absolute bullsh*t!

28. Ever play in a tournament? No, because then I'd have to interact with people.

29. What is your gaming set up? A giant wall of video game consoles spanning from NES to Switch, 4 TVs, but I sit at a desk with a PC.

30. How many consoles do you own? "I own every console that's ever existed." - I Don't Play Games When I Play Games (My STRENTH) original song by Smooth McGroove BUT no seriously I own 32 consoles including handhelds.

31. Does the 3DS and/or Virtual Boy hurt your eyes or give you headaches? Yes. 3DS gave me headaches though I only really played with the 3D feature in Ocarina of Time 3D. I think my eyes broke because I couldn't get my 3D to work very well after.

32. Did you ever play a game based on your favorite show/cartoon/movie/comic? Sure I play games based on a lot of things. Literally any anime game. If I had to pick Dragon Ball Xenoverse is kinda like a dream Dragon Ball game. Oh, Attack on Titan 2 is pretty neat too!

33. Did you ever have any bootleg games or plug-n-play games? Some SEGA plug-n-play thing once. Played it like once and now its lost to time (or my closet.)

34. Do either of your parents play video games? Yes. Mom and Dad played NES Super Mario Bros. My Dad went HARD at that game until he saved the Princess. Then he quit forever.

35. Ever work in a game store? Or do you have a favorite game shop? "Hi. Welcome to Gamestop!"I never want to hear that again, but it was my main store until I went full digital/ online orders.

36. Have you ever shed actual blood, sweat or tears over a game? No, I don't tend to get upset or emotional, but Bill dying in Left 4 Dead made me pretty pissed.

37. Have you played E.T. for the Atari 2600? Do you think that’s the worst game ever, or do you have another nomination? Never played it. I don't really play "bad" games, but maybe Sims 4.

38. A game you’re ashamed to admit that you like? The Sims 4

39. A sequel that you would die for them to make? Dragon's Dogma 2 WHICH I think is actually in development, so I'd have to say Fallout New Vegas 2. C'mon Bethesda you cowards, hand the keys back over to Obsidian so they can make another good Fallout game!

40. What to you think of virtual reality headsets or motion controls? Two part question, two answers. VR Headset to immerse in world, yes. Motion Controls, no.

41. A genre that you just can’t get into? MOBAs and MMOs. I don't like paying to keep playing.

42. Maybe it wasn’t your first game, but what was the game that started you on your path to nerdiness? Nintendo 64 opened me up to what video games could be as a kid. Sad to say my parents' NES didn't really do that for me. And years later Fallout 3 was a big game changer for me too.

43. Ever play games when you really should have been concentrating on something else? Every day of my LIFE.

44. Arcade machine that has consumed the most of your quarters? None. I'd rather emulate.

45. How are you at Mario Kart? Pretty dang good. 3-STARS MARIO KART WII, BABY!

46. Do you like relaxing games like Animal Crossing or Harvest Moon? Yes, both of those. I preferred when Animal Crossing had more character to it. New Horizons looks so pretty, but feels so bland compared to classic AC.

47. Do you like competitive games? No. Not really. Usually amongst friends or if I can get competitive against AI Bots. I love my machine bot friends cause they don't cry like 10 year olds when they lose.

48. How long does it take your to customize your player character? Too long. I've seriously restarted games because I wasn't happy with my character's appearance.

49. In games where you can pick your class, do you always tend to go for the same type of character? Yes, I am always the magic man, my brother is always brute warrior, and my friend is the ranger.

50. If you were a game designer, what masterpiece would you create? I don't really know. Honestly, I'd rather mod already good games to make them better than create something completely new.

51. Have you ever played a game for so long that you forgot to eat or sleep? No, that'd be ridiculous. But I've had a friend fall asleep playing games at my house 3 different times and currently dozes off during our Minecraft sessions. So, maybe that's not a completely ridiculous thing after all.

52. A game that you begged your parents for as a kid? Kirby 64 apparently. My brother tells me we had to count out pennies to buy it. I must've been too young with no recollection, but I believe it.

53. What’s your opinion on DLC these days? It's good if its not in the game's files from the beginning and is actually developed AFTER launch... and pre-order bonuses should be standard DLC a month or two later. Some games have content lost to time because of that pre-order bullsh*t.

54. Do you give in to Steam sales? Of course. If you want a game and its on sale then why not? I typically wait just for Steam sales to get games.

55. Did you ever make someone you hated in the Sims and did mean stuff to them? No? I typically make people and characters I like in Sims. I've made villains like Dio, but he's an anime villain and I don't really HATE him despite the horrible things he's done.

56. Did you ever play Roller Coaster Tycoon and kill off your guests? No. Never played that game.

57. Did you ever play a game to 100% or get all of the achievements? I try to for all the games I really like.

58. If you can only play 3 games for the rest of your life, which ones do you pick? The Sims 4, Skyrim, & Fallout: New Vegas. Mods make them live forever. Left 4 Dead and Monster Hunter are good choices too.

59. Do you play any cell phone games? Those aren't games.

60. Do you know the Konami Code? No? But I'll take a guess. Is it make an IP and forget it exists?

61. Do you trade in your games or keep them forever? Keep forever... even the bad ones.

62. Ever buy a console specifically to play one game? PS4 Pro for Monster Hunter World. It was basically for early access since the PC version was being developed and releasing after PS4, but I don't like waiting.

63. Ever go to a gaming convention or tournament? Sort of. Been to anime cons and walked into the gaming tournament rooms only to walk out less than 10 minutes later.

64. Ever make a TV or monitor purchase based on what would be best for gaming? No, but I'm going to be doing that soon, hopefully.

65. Ever have a Game Genie, Game Shark or Action Replay? Did it ever mess up your game’s save file? GameShark for N64, PS2, Gameboy, and Action Replay for Gamecube, DS, 3DS. And no not really, I would cheat responsibly... but there was this one time at school my friend and I borrowed another friend's Gameboy game, loaded it up with my Gameshark, tried playing, it crashed, loaded it back up, save file corrupted... we just stared at each other jaws dropped, "Here's your game back, dude. Make sure you don't play it til you get back home!"

66. Did you ever have have an old Nokia with Snake on it? No, but I remember seeing them on billboards in the game DRIV3R on PS2.

67. Do you have a happy gaming-related childhood memory you want to share? Every game I play is filled with happy memories (mostly.)

68. Ever save up a ton of tickets in an arcade to get something cool? These tiger plushes. My brother got white and I got orange. They were the coolest. Got a butt load of tickets from some jackpot spinning light game thing as I was good at the timing with repeated jackpot hits.

69. In your opinion, best game ever made? I've played quite a few masterpiece games, but to pick one, I'd say Fallout: New Vegas

70. Very first game you ever beat? Super Mario 64. I was a mere child on a Sunday morning and ate celebratory pancakes made by my Dad.

Wow, that was long... I get the feeling this was supposed to be a "send me ask with numbers" thing, but answering all at once is more fun.

[doc-pickles]

won’t let no one break your heart (part six)

we needed SOMETHING after the S17 premiere...

The plane ride to Philadelphia was torturous, to say the least. Jo’s goodbye to Alex at the airport had been harder than she’d anticipated, but she’d steeled her emotions and boarded the plane nonetheless. Her nerves were shot as she anxiously sat through the six hour plane ride, the baby in her stomach flipping and kicking her as if to remind her that she wasn’t alone. 

  She wasn’t sure why she’d chosen to do this, to come out here and find out answers about a woman who hadn’t even attempted to contact her once in her 34 years of life. Deep down Jo thinks that maybe it’s because of her son, that there’s some desperate part of her that needs to understand what her mother had thought about before she holds her own child. But she knows, if she’s honest with herself, that this doesn’t have anything to do with the baby in her womb. No this trip, this mental cage that she’d locked herself in, had everything to do with the two little girls who were no longer sleeping down the hallway from her and Alex. 

  Jo had always absently wondered why her mother had left her, but she’d never had the urge to track her down and demand answers. In her head, she’d painted a picture of a young desperate girl with no other options than abandoning her week old daughter at a fire station. She’d been content to leave it at that, to let her story end there. But as she’d stood on her front porch a week ago and watched Sadie and Molly leave, she knew she needed answers. If it physically pained her to let go of the girls who weren’t her own flesh and blood, how had her mother done what she had?

  The plane touches down in Philadelphia bright and early on Saturday morning, giving Jo enough time to go to her hotel for a shower and a change of clothes before tracking her mother down. Her body is aching, she knows she should rest and let herself recover from the long flight but she can’t. She needs to know. So she presses her fingers against her stomach in an attempt to calm the little boy doing somersaults inside of her and punches in the address that Parker had found for her into her GPS. 

  The house is nicer than she’d expected, two newer cars parked in the driveway of the two story home. Jo pushes any fear she still holds aside as she walks up the drive and rings the doorbell. It isn’t long before a young girl, high school aged maybe, answers the door. Jo has to hold her breath for a moment, noticing the similarities between her and the teenager standing before her. The girl, however, is unfazed as she stares quizzically at Jo, “Can I help you?”

  “Umm yes,” Jo snaps out of her daze, eyes meeting the girls. “I’m looking for Vicki Rudin. Is she here? I mean, am I in the right place?” “Lexie, who’s at the door,” a middle aged woman appears behind the teenager, eyes widening as she takes Jo in. “Go upstairs, Alexandra.” Lexie, or Alexandra, seems to not want to argue as she silently leaves the entryway. Vicki steps onto the porch, closing the door behind her as she turns to Jo, “What are you doing here?”

  “So you know who I am then?” “Of course I do, you look just like…,” Vicki looks over Jo, moving her gaze away quickly as she shakes her head. “Why are you here?”

  Jo’s put off by the abrasive tone in Vicki’s voice, if anyone should be mad here it should be her, “I just wanted to talk. Can we do that? Talk?” “Not here,” Vicki’s eyes scan her surroundings, as if someone is watching her every movement. “There’s a diner, a few blocks away. I’ll meet you there if you really want to talk.” “Well I didn’t just fly out here from Seattle for my health, I can think of about a thousand other things to do with my limited free time,” the tone that Jo bites back with is bitter, eyes narrowing at the woman in front of her. “Fine, I’ll meet you there.” She walks back to her car, her worry and fear now replaced with anger and annoyance towards the woman she’d just met. She pulls her phone out, seeing a text from Alex:

10:38 AM

Hope you two are doing okay. I love you.

  Even when she’d pushed her husband away, when she’d shut him out of her thoughts and feelings, he was still checking in on her and caring for her. She sends back a quick reply before pulling off the suburban street and heading to the diner Vicki had mentioned. The retro theming and aging waitresses reminds her of the restaurant downtown that Sadie and Molly loved to go to, where they’d beg Alex for quarters to play old songs on the Jukebox. The thought brings a small smile to Jo’s face as she settles into a table, ordering a hot tea from a waitress who stops by. 

  Vicki walks in fifteen minutes later, eyes immediately falling to Jo and sliding into the seat across from her. She orders a coffee, fixing it with cream and sugar before she dares to speak up, “I'm late for work. Um... I work in the mayor's office. Try to create jobs for under-served communities.” The answer feels like a knife twisting in Jo’s chest as she watches the woman sitting across from her nervously twist her golden wedding bands. The gems on them are large and she wears a few more rings across her hands. Her nails are painted a dark blue, professionally done. These touches along with the suburban dream house and the fancy job all paint a picture Jo had never entertained. 

  “You know, in my head, you worked at a diner half as nice as this. And you didn't graduate high school, or maybe you did but a year or two late because they don't let pregnant girls finish high school,” her hand instinctively falls to her own pregnant belly. Her son kicks at her hand, as if encouraging her to keep going. “And you scraped by somehow on... hard work and the kindness of strangers, but you had no one. You had nothing.”

  “That would make it okay that I left you,” Vicki’s voice sounds hopeful as she stares at Jo. “I wanted you to have a better life than I could give you…”

  “Nothing makes it okay,” Jo snapped. Her eyes light with a fire she didn’t know she was capable of feeling as she looks at the woman she’d pictured her whole life. “You know, I didn't have a better life. I wasn't better off. No one found me adoring parents who were dying for a newborn of their own to love. I lived in foster homes so bad, it was better to live in my car. And when a man finally told me that he loved me, I believed him, even when he beat the crap out of me so bad I couldn't see. So whatever life you had, tell me it wasn't better than mine.”

  Vicki stares at her blankly and for a moment Jo doesn’t think she’s going to speak again, “You look just like me. You look… so much like the vision of myself that I had to look at for nine months and loathe.”

  Jo reads between the lines of Vicki’s statement, fingers curling against her expanding abdomen protectively. Finally a picture begins to form in her head, one that paints a woman who couldn’t love their own child but didn’t have the courage to help them begin their life on the right foot, “Wow. You're just a monster, huh?”

  “You don’t understand, you never would,” Vicki gestures vaguely to the silver bands on Jo’s left hand, her eyes narrowing as she brings them to meet hers again. “You probably have a supportive husband at home who holds your hand when you go to your doctor’s appointments. You don’t have to feel fear or regret or anger everytime you go to see your baby.”

  The anger in Jo builds, it rises up her throat as she and Vicki hold each other’s stares. She couldn’t believe that this woman was talking about her baby, about Jo herself, like this, “It wasn’t enough to abandon me, you just have to rub the pain in huh?”

  “Your father… he was a monster. You weren’t created from some magic moment of love, you’re here because some piece of scum didn’t understand the word ‘no’ as I screamed it over and over again while he forced himself on me,” Vicki takes a deep breath in, her own eyes welling with tears as she focused her gaze on her hands. “I was petrified every single moment of my pregnancy. I was so terrified... imagining that you'd be a boy and that you'd have his face and his voice. And every day, every kick, every movement, it just reminded me where you came from.” Jo’s heart drops so quickly that she feels as if she can’t breathe. Her own little boy kicks about in her womb, the feeling now foreign as she tries to make sense of what Vicki is saying. She’d never imagined, never entertained the thought that she was the product of sexual assault. But here was the reality of it all, slapping her in the face so harshly she almost felt as if her cheek stung. 

  “But, you know, movies and books and... and magazines, they just kept talking about this...love that you feel the minute your baby is born. How instantaneous it is and how your heart just cracks wide open, and... I remember, I kept telling myself that as soon as I had you in my arms that I could do that and that I would do that. Other women did it, so why couldn't I,” Vicki lets a chuckle out then, the sound like nails on a chalkboard as her voice takes on a spiteful tone. “But it never did. No, it did… Everything they said was absolutely right. My heart cracked wide open. It was never just us, no matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did. It was just a reminder of him and I resented you… so much for it. I think I still do, looking at you now and seeing him in your eyes, seeing you… like that and reminding me of the worst nine months of my life.”

  The anger that had been on a slow boil in her chest now erupted as Jo spat at the woman across from her, “No you don’t get to say that, to blame whatever fucked up problems you have on me. You don’t get to blame an innocent child for what happened to you.”

  “I did the best I could…”

  “Bullshit, the best you could would've been to find an adoption agency and make sure I had a home and someone to love me, not toss me away like garbage,” Jo eyes Vicki before taking a breath and meeting her eyes. “I spent most of my life doubting everyone I ever met, leaving them before they could leave me. I am a grown woman with a job that I love and friends I love and a husband who loves me so much and a son and still... I was walking around, waiting, wondering if you would ever find me. If you would ever say that you're sorry. I don’t need that though, I can tell you’re not sorry for what you did.”

  “I did the best I could,” the words have lost their meaning as they tumble out of Vicki’s mouth again. “I couldn’t look at you, I still can’t, but I tried to give you the best I could.”

  “No you didn’t! I came here because I spent so many nights laying awake wondering how someone could throw their own flesh and blood to the side like you have, wondering how it was possible when…,” Jo swipes at her eyes, her mind bringing up visions of blonde curls and bright green eyes. “It didn’t make sense that you could do that to me when I would give anything for the little girls I have back in Seattle that aren’t even mine. I couldn’t comprehend how you could do that to your own daughter when I would die for two that aren’t even my own.”

  A silence settled over Jo and Vicki, Jo’s mind racing as she thought about Sadie and Molly. They were the reason she’d come out here, to see her mother’s perspective on the beginning of her life in a light that she couldn’t envision herself. Sitting her now though, Jo knew the truth once and for all. She would never be able to understand giving your child up, circumstances be damned. 

  “You didn’t do anything for me. I have gone my whole life thinking that you leaving me was the only thing you could’ve done, that you had no other option but I was... so wrong,” Jo stands then, fed up with Vicki and the bullshit excuses she keeps feeding her. “I am nothing like you, everything I am I built myself. I am a loving wife and a good friend and... and I am a mother. A damn good one, better than you will ever be. And I’m going to fly home and lay in bed next to my husband in the house that I worked so hard for and pray that I never make my children feel the way that you made me feel.”

  Jo walks away, stopping a few feet away and turning back to stand in front of Vicki with her head held high, “Since you never bothered to ask, my name is Josephine. Doctor Josephine Karev and I know now that my life is so much better without you in it.”

  She barely remembers to stop at her hotel and grab her suitcase, her mind a blur as she drives to the airport and rebooks her flight. By the time she lands in Seattle it’s pushing 10 PM, Jo hailing a cab and heading home as soon as she’s collected her baggage. She had been so angry, so upset with the woman who she shared half her DNA with as she fled Philadelphia. Now though, standing on the front porch of her and Alex’s home, she was sad and exhausted and all she wanted was her husband. 

  Unlocking the front door, Jo pushed herself into the living room with the last bit of energy she had, a sigh leaving her as she leaned against the front door. She was shocked to see most of the lights on, assuming Alex was already in bed. 

  “Jo?” Alex moves from his position at the top of the stairs, his feet taking the stairs two at a time as he realizes that Jo is actually standing in front of him. Jo hadn’t realized she’d been crying until Alex was standing in front of her wiping at the tears that had collected on her cheeks. 

  “I am so sorry that I’ve been such a terrible wife,” Jo’s voice cracks as she meets Alex’s eyes, a sad expression on his face. “I should’ve just talked to you instead of freaking out but I thought… I thought going out there would give me closure or answers or… something. But it didn’t, it just showed me that I came from two horrible humans. And I know that I’m nothing like them but… 

  “I just sat across from her and listened to her tell me that what she did was what she thought was best for me and all I could think about was how I could never do that to our son,” Jo takes a deep breath, tears flowing down her face again as she struggles to speak. “And then I thought about doing that to Sadie and Molly and I couldn’t stomach the thought of it, of never seeing them again. And that’s when I realized that I’m a better person because I didn’t know her. It just… took me a long time to realize that.”

  Alex wraps Jo in his arms, letting her finally let out the emotions she’d been trying to conceal since she’d walked out of the diner.

  “I’m sorry things didn’t pan out like you’d wanted them to,” Alex’s lips pressed against her forehead as she reigned in her emotions, wiping at her cheeks to clear her tears. His hand wandered down to her bump, cradling it as he smiled down at her. “For the record, I think you’re already a fantastic mom.”

  “And for the record, you were right about Sadie and Molly,” Jo hesitantly met Alex’s eyes, a smirk already pasted across his face. “They belong here, with us. So we can call Martha and tell her that, because if there’s one thing that the past 24 hours has shown me it’s that I can’t imagine us without them now.” Alex wrapped an arm around Jo, ushering her upstairs, “Well we can call first thing tomorrow morning. For now, you two need to get to bed.” Jo was thrown off by Alex’s nonchalant response for a moment until they stepped into their bedroom. She turned to him with a smirk of her own, “You are a very sneaky man, did you know that?”

“Mama!” “Mommy!”

  “Oh I am so glad to see you two,” Jo settled herself onto the edge of their bed as Sadie and Molly both clambering onto her lap. “I missed you so much.” “Martha dropped them off this morning, they kept asking for us,” Alex rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. “I was gonna call but I knew you were busy. But I figured you wouldn’t mind them coming back.” “Does this mean we get to stay forever? Does it,” Sadie’s innocent question brought tears to Jo’s eyes again, this round welcome as she stared down at the little girls sitting on her lap. 

“Do you want that? To stay here forever with us?” Both girls responded with a chorus of yeses, Alex and Jo’s eyes meeting over their heads. They exchanged a look before Jo turned back to the girls with a smile, “I think we can make that work.”