#literally he's asking 'how old are you' but it comes across more as the former

[amphibifish]

it's kind of hard to parse but i think heimdallr basically being like "WHAT ARE YOU A CHILD???" to frey

[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 4 - Build

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Me again! We’re back. Sorry I know I keep adding new parts but I’ve broken up the final chapter into two as it just keep going and this is a huge bumper one (sorry). I promise there genuinely will only be one more looool. Thanks again for all of your reblogs/comments/love for this story, it means a lot!!

💔

Lou had welcomed you back with open arms, fixing you up with a waitress job at the diner. Of course he had. Lou was like the father you’d never had. His love was one of the few constants in your life.

Mercifully, he didn’t ask you much about Bucky, didn’t chastise you for making a bad choice and getting involved with a mob boss. That wasn’t what Lou was about. He knew that ‘I told you so’ served no purpose, he knew that you were a big girl and there was nothing he could tell you that you didn’t already know yourself. So why bother? All that mattered was that you were here, and you needed him. He would always catch you when you fell.

Going back to waitressing didn’t feel like you’d taken a step back or that you’d somehow failed, if anything it was quite nice to see this former version of your life once more. And you’d missed chatting with the regulars, helping Lou with the accounts, occasionally fighting small fires (both metaphorical and very occasionally, literal). With Bucky you didn’t need to work, which was nice in one way, but you’d missed the structure and purpose your old job had given you. You previously had no interest in daily gossipy lunches with the other mob wives, and there was only so much shopping you could do.

“How did we ever cope without you?” Lou had asked one morning after you’d successfully chased and caught a dine and dasher, and saved hundreds of dollars on the power bill after negotiating a new contract. All before 10am.

You grinned, “I feel the same way about this place”.

You had moved in with Wanda, she had insisted - despite your protests. She and her boyfriend, Vis, gave you the spare room and said you could stay until you got back on your feet. It was small and full of all the extra stuff they couldn’t fit elsewhere in their apartment, but you didn’t care. You would’ve been happy with the couch, or a sleeping bag on the floor.

Nat was equally helpful, sorting you out by buying new clothes and shoes in your size and giving you some of the toiletries and make-up she didn’t use. She even cut and restyled your hair (‘because hair holds memories’, she told you) and took on whichever role you needed. Sometimes that was nights on her couch crying as she held you, other times it was hitting up the bars and trying to forget. She did it all. She had come and got you that morning at the hotel, after you sent her a frantic message from the rickety computer explaining what had happened. She told you she’d be there in 30 minutes…but ended up doing the trip in 20.

One afternoon a week or so later, Bucky’s men radioed him to let them know that there was a redhead in a Mercedes at the front gates demanding to speak to him. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’d sighed as he saw her familiar face on the security monitor and told them to let her in. He knew this day would come. He dismissed them, they didn’t need to be here for this.

Nat had parked up and casually exited the car, strolling across the patio as Bucky stood in the doorway and waited for the inevitable. She didn’t keep him waiting long, slugging him across the jaw with a sharp ‘thwack’ causing him to stagger back against the doorframe.

“Got it. Anything else to say?” he groaned.

She nodded and then kneed him hard in the groin, turning on her heel as she left him in a crumpled heap and ambled back to her car.

“I warned you this would happen if you hurt her”, she called out calmly without looking back.

“Always good to see you, Nat”, Bucky managed to eke out as she slammed the car door.

The generosity of them all was overwhelming, you knew how lucky you were. It’s often said that you don’t know who your true friends are until you fall on hard times, and your friends had proved themselves tenfold. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to repay their kindness.

💔

It had been about six weeks since the night at the hotel when he started coming to the diner. No goons or hangers-on, just him. Which was almost unheard of, given his position.

The first time was a Friday morning, around 9am. He sat in the corner booth, head buried in the menu.

“I can kick him out, hon’, I’m not scared of him”, Lou had snarled as he glared over at the man in the booth.

“It’s okay, Lou. I can handle him,” you told him gently, giving his arm a reassuring stroke.

You took a deep breath as you approached his table. You couldn’t see his face, just his hands, an eerie mirror of the first time you’d met.

“What can I get you?” you asked as you readied your pad and pen, your voice surprisingly even, in spite your stomach’s somersaults.

He lowered the menu slowly and you couldn’t deny it was good to see him again. His blue eyes shone, the former dusting of stubble over his chin and jawline now a fuller beard - just as tantalising as it had always been. A few strands of his hair had come away from the carefully styled gel, framing his face perfectly. Some of your former anger towards him bubbled away beneath the surface, but you couldn’t deny you had also missed him. You had loved him, after all.

The two of you shared a knowing smile.

“You know there are like…hundreds of other breakfast places in this city, right?” you teased, but half-serious.

“I do…but this is the only one that gets my eggs just right,” he grinned back.

“Mmm. I’ll pass your compliments onto the chef. You still want the usual?”

“Please”.

You scribbled down the familiar order onto the page. It felt strange to write it down again, it had been a long time since you’d done that for him.

“Are you going to behave?” you questioned, arms folded.

“Mostly”.

“You’d better. Lou will have your ass if you don’t” you scoffed.

“I don’t doubt it”.

“And Bucky, if you’re here to-” you began, your face betraying the pain that still lurked within you.

“I’m not”, he cut you off. “Just breakfast. I promise”.

You nodded, pressing your lips together with trepidation. The two of you watched the other for a few seconds.

“Well, okay, that’ll be right out”.

You turned and put his order into the kitchen. You didn’t have to look back to know he was watching.

“Here you go”.

You returned to the booth a little later, laying out the plates and re-filling his coffee, he thanked you and pulled a napkin from the dispenser.

“I like your new hair”, he said as he began to cut up his food, his eyes not leaving the table.

“Thanks. I like your new beard”.

“Thanks. Business going okay here?”

“Doing well. Yours?”

“Same old, same old…”

“And…Rumlow?” you asked, your throat catching a little as you said his name.

“Terminated” he replied coldly as he took a sip of coffee.

“Yes…I presumed so. HYDRA?”

“I finally cut off all of those heads”.

“I hope you mean metaphorically”.

“Mostly. The girls good? Vis?”

“All good. Steve? Sam?”

“Also good”.

“Good”.

“Good”.

“Well…good to catch up. Let me know if you need anything else. Enjoy”.

“Thanks”.

You waited for some big trick or reveal, but it never came. He ate his meal, drank another coffee refill, paid the bill, tipped, and left within the hour. Like any other customer. Lou was sceptical, and so were you – but there nothing to suggest it was anything else but breakfast…like he said.

And that’s how it was every Friday after that. He’d come in at 9am on the dot, sit in the same booth. Order the usual. You were always his waitress. Everything was the same, every week. The other regulars knew to avoid sitting at his table at that time. The other servers would barely bat an eyelid as he strolled in, taking for granted that you’d be along shortly to put his order in – even if he wasn’t in your section that morning. And it was…fine. He didn’t try and do anything more, didn’t ask you to meet anywhere or for a chance to talk. You initially thought it would be hard to see him again, but it was okay. Maybe a future where the two of you just pleasantly co-existed was possible.

The two of you would chat. Just small talk at first. Occasionally a joke. Even Lou would chat to him sometimes, he was still wary of Bucky but more open to him than he was previously. He certainly didn’t mind him spending money in his restaurant.

Weeks soon became months. Seasons changed. Still, he came in every week, rain or shine. Plates and plates of eggs eaten; endless coffee mugs refilled. He didn’t ever skip it, he was never sick, never seemed to take vacations. He showed up every time. Even if you weren’t there.

The small talk eventually evolved, so slowly you barely noticed it happen. You chatted more about the old times, memories started to feel fonder rather than sad reminders of what was lost. He told you anecdotes about Steve and Sam. You told him about Wanda and Vis, about Nat. You laughed uproariously one morning over the story of Sam’s disastrous vacation involving a mistaken suitcase and an overzealous TSA agent. It was nice to just sit and talk with him, just be with him. No expectations or obligations. You hadn’t forgiven him. You weren’t sure you ever could. But you had missed him. And seeing him for an hour every week, on your turf, just shooting the breeze – that was nice.

“So, you seeing anyone?” you asked one morning as you sat across from him in the booth and sipped your drink, your break coinciding with the end of his meal. You weren’t sure where it came from, but it popped out of your mouth before you had a chance to stop it. The curiosity was eating you alive. You seemed to talk about everything apart from his love life.

He firmly shook his head, “nope”.

You frowned. “Really? When was the last time you went on a date?”

“With you,” he replied in that no-nonsense tone of his.

You cocked your head, peering over at him in disbelief.

“But Bucky…”

“What? I’m not interested in anyone else”.

“But we’re not together. And it’s been months”.

“I know”, he replied stoically as he sipped his coffee. His eyes seemed to be studying you.

“And we’re not getting back together…”

“I know”.

“But…”

“But what?”

“I don’t know, but I-I don’t like this. It feels like a ploy, somehow. To push me into taking you back” you stammered, your finger dancing on the rim of your mug.

“It’s not. It’s just a fact. I didn’t even bring it up, you did”.

He was frustratingly calm and unperturbed, finishing his breakfast like this was just some casual conversation about the weather or a movie he’d seen.

“So…what, you’re never gonna date anyone again? Is that it?” you scowled.

He shrugged, “I never said that. It’s just not something I’m looking to do right now. Work is taking up most of my time. Plus, I’m in therapy, working through a few things. I’d rather be in a better place before I start dating again. Learn from my past mistakes”.

“Oh…” you responded in surprise, “well…that’s very mature of you. And is it…helpful?”

“Mmm, pretty eye opening,” he nodded as he took another sip of his coffee, “I’d recommend it to anyone,” he looked at you pointedly.

You felt the heat at your cheeks, perfectly aware that he was suggesting you do the same. And he was probably right. But you didn’t like the potential to appear vulnerable in front of him, so you merely shrugged and went back to rubbing your coffee cup. You were genuinely pleased for him…it was just unfortunate that your break-up was the catalyst. You felt a wave of grief roll through you.

You paused for just a beat, again unable to stop your word vomit.

“Are you gonna ask if I’m seeing anyone?”

“No”.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s none of my business. You can date whoever you want”, he shrugged, keeping his attention on his plate.

You frowned. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Yes. I just want you to be happy, doll”.

“Bullshit!” you scoffed, “you once picked a man up by his ankles and dipped his head in the toilet because he grabbed my ass at that party…”

“Well, that was deserved. And I didn’t flush it on him, so he got off easy…”

You pointed an accusatory finger at him across the table. “Buck…I know you. What’s your game, here?”

He sighed heavily, taking a long sip of his coffee before he spoke. His eyes finally moved up from his plate to meet yours. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just like being with you? In whatever form I can? That maybe I’m happy just getting this time with you every week, no matter what happens between us?”

“And that’s enough for you?” you asked incredulously.

He shifted in his seat, his tone suddenly very serious.

“Look, doll. I’m always going to love you. And I’m always going to be honest with you. If you turned around tomorrow and you told me you wanted to give things another shot – sure, I’d bite your hand off to accept. But I live in the real world. And I know you aren’t likely to forgive me for what I did, and that’s fine. I’ve accepted that. I’m just happy to have you in my life in some way, even if that’s just talking to you every Friday while I have my breakfast”.

You blinked back at him, unsure whether to take him at his word or if this was some manipulation tactic. The word ‘love’ echoed in your ears, and you had to shake it off that he said he still felt that way about you. Maybe this was all some trick. You knew you couldn’t trust him anymore.

But as you looked into his eyes, for a moment his sentiment felt…genuine. Real. Maybe he was telling the truth.

“Fine”, you sighed as you took a sip from your cup, “I get paid to be here either way…”

💔

A few more months passed, it had been nearly a year since the break-up. Bucky remained a weekly customer but nothing else. You’d finally moved out of Wanda’s into your own place – a shitty, cramped studio apartment was the best you could do on a waitress wage and tips – but it was yours. It had been such a long time since you’d had your own space, you loved every meagre inch.

You'd also started therapy, to help get your head around your childhood and abandonment issues - to help understand why you were always ready to run and expect everything to collapse. Bucky was right, it was valuable - if not hard going. But you knew it was helping, even though nothing could be 'fixed' overnight.

You still visited Wanda and Vis regularly. In fact, you were over there laughing with Wanda and making an early dinner when you got the call that Friday evening. She knew something terrible had happened from the way your face fell, your eyes widening with shock as you listened to the voice on the other end telling you whatever horror story it was. Seconds later you were rushing out of the front door and trying to wrangle on your coat and grab your bag, as she called out to you in a panic just steps behind.

“It was a massive heart attack,” the doctor had said as she eyed the clipboard in front of her. “He was lucky that a passerby on the street called an ambulance, if he’d been alone…he may not have been able to call himself, and if it had been too late…”

You had not been at the hospital long, sweating and panting in your rush to get down there. Your head fuzzy, unable to fully take in what you’d been told. The doctor was still talking, her voice an unidentifiable drone in your ears as you concentrated all your efforts on staying upright. You tugged off your coat, suddenly far too hot. The hospital felt like a furnace, suffocating and stifling. You were dizzy, everything felt blurred.

A couple of chairs sat a few feet away along the sterile-looking hallway, you plopped down into one and put your head in your hands.

“Can she see him?” Wanda asked the doctor, her hands patting your shoulders supportively.

“He’s stable, but the team are just doing some observations on him. Plus, he needs to rest, and might be feeling groggy after the meds. He’ll be out for a good while. It might take some time to be conscious and lucid again, so-”

“I’ll wait,” you said defiantly, the first time you’d spoken since you got there. “However long it takes”.

“Yes, I understand. And you’re his…friend?”

“Daughter,” you corrected. “I’m Lou’s daughter. Well…good as. He doesn’t have any other family. Neither of us do…”

The doctor nodded kindly, pointing out the coffee machine across the hall and leaving you to it.

💔

Wanda waited with you for a while, but she had a work event that night. She insisted she’d stay but you waved her off, telling her you’d check in with her later. She’d been planning that event for months. Lou would be mad at her for missing it, let alone over him. And you meant it, you didn’t want her missing it because of you.

So, she left. Leaving you by yourself in the hard chair with the plastic cup of lukewarm motor oil masquerading as coffee. Nat was out in the Bahamas with some hottie for the week, and you didn’t really want to bother Vis, so you sat quietly alone. You kept sane by reminding yourself that Lou was stable, and his prognosis looked good. He would be okay. He would. He’s made of strong stuff.

Another hour went by, and you couldn’t help your tears from falling as you began to work yourself up worrying, exacerbated by the fact you hadn’t eaten and had nobody around to stop you from spiralling. Wanda had sent a few texts, but you knew she was busy and didn’t need you distracting her. You just wished you had someone to talk to. Or not even talk to, just be with. You squeezed your phone in your hands as if willing the idea that someone would suddenly call you out of the blue. A friend you’d forgotten, a long-lost family member. But there was nobody.

Well, almost nobody.

You pulled your purse onto your lap and dug through, retrieving your wallet at the bottom. You opened it up and checked each card holder until you found what you were searching for, slightly worn and torn tucked behind the library card you barely used, but the details still clear as day.

JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES

Director of 107 Inc.

You had scooped up the card after he left it in the hotel room. It was a bit of a split decision, you’d nearly tossed it in the trash but changed your mind at the last second and jammed it into your wallet, not really thinking about why. You hadn’t looked at it since, you’d never transferred his number into your phone, or even spoken to him outside of Fridays at the diner. But he had become something of a friend over the last few months, and you were surprised to find yourself looking forward to seeing him every week. It was as if you’d gotten to know each other again from scratch, a slow-burn friendship grown over time – the complete opposite of your initial whirlwind relationship, where heat had won out over foundations. But now, you felt you knew him differently. It was funny how you get to know somebody without the chemistry and physical attraction fogging up your brain.

Was this stupid? Were you asking for trouble? But…it would be nice to talk to someone. Just a phone call, nothing more. You took a deep breath and punched the numbers into the keypad before you could talk yourself out of it.

“Hello?” came his gruff voice in your year after two rings.

You sat upright, surprised he had even answered at all – let alone so fast. You hadn’t really thought about what you were going to say.

“Hey, Buck, I…” you squeaked, unable to mask the emotion in your voice.

“Doll?” his voice immediately softened, “what is it? Are you okay?”

“Yeah…well, no, actually. I’m at Mount Sinai…uh…Lou-uh, Lou had a big heart attack and I’m at the hospital and hesreallysickandI-I…”

You sobbed, your words melting into one as the pain of saying them out loud hit home, “I’m sorry I…”

“Hey. It’s okay. Take a moment for me, alright? Take a deep breath doll…”

You closed your eyes, inhaling and exhaling, blowing the air out of your lips like he said. You did it a few times, feeling slightly better afterwards,

“Good, that’s good,” Bucky told you. “Are you by yourself? Are Wanda and Nat there with you?”

“No…Wanda is working, Nat’s away. It’s fine…I just…”

“I’m so sorry about Lou, doll”, he said tenderly. “Do you want me to come down there?”

“No…no…it’s okay…I just. I just wanna talk,” you replied, wiping your eyes with the palm of your hand.

“Yeah…yeah, we can do that. What shall we talk about?”

You sighed, “I don’t know. Anything. Anything that isn’t hospitals or heart attacks…or food. Because I haven’t eaten and I’m starving.”

“Alright. Hmm. Well…I had to break up a fight between Thor and Scott today, if that helps distract you…”

“What? But Thor is twice Scott’s size. That was mean of him…”

“No…Scott started it. Said Thor was mouthing off about something or other and it all blew up. Scott swung for him”.

“What?? Is he insane?” you practically shrieked, the beginnings of a giggle forming in your throat as you tried to imagine Scott trying to land a punch as Thor towered above him.

“I guess so. But they worked it out. Last time I saw them they were laughing, and Thor was swinging him from his shoulders”.

You laughed. A proper, deep belly laugh. It felt good. Cathartic. You could practically see some of the tension leave your body.

“Well, I’m glad they figured it out. What else did you do today, Buck?”

“Hm. Not a lot. Mostly work. I went to the park. Just to get some air. Went to that duck pond you like and sat on the bench for a while”.

You smiled, “I love that pond”.

“I know. Remember that time you nearly fell in trying to help that duckling trapped in the weeds?”

“I do. I remember that you had to catch me and I accidentally splashed pondwater on your suit as I stumbled…” you laughed fondly.

“Not the worst thing I’ve had my dry cleaner remove for me. And we got the duckling back to its mom, even if she was furious at us”.

“She tried to bite you…”

“She succeeded”.

You both chuckled for a moment as you reminisced, then it suddenly went quiet between you both. You held the phone tightly to your ear, unsure and a little lost for words. It felt odd to feel tongue-tied around Bucky, it had always been so easy to know what to say to him. Despite how easy it was to slip back into nostalgia just now, and your newfound friendship, there was still something of a gulf between the two of you. You had been apart for so long now.

“…thanks, Buck,” you whispered.

“Anytime, doll”.

💔

After you hung up with Bucky, a nurse came over and you shot up out of your chair with anticipation. She told you that Lou was doing well but was slowly coming around after a heavy sedative. He should be ready for visitors in another hour or so. You sighed heavily but nodded grimly, as long as Lou was alright – that was all that mattered.

You sank back into your faithful chair, pulling out your rapidly dying phone again and wishing you had the foresight to bring a charger when you left Wanda’s. Or some food, at least.

You continued your vigil in the unfeeling hospital hallway, a place that seemed to exist outside of time. But you had to admit, speaking to Bucky had raised your spirits a little. It reminded you of the old days, when he was an anchor in a storm, a calming presence when things were tough. Part of you had missed that.

You’d just closed your eyes a little while later when you heard someone call your name.

“Still hungry?”

Your eyes filled with tears as your head snapped to see who it was.

There stood Bucky dressed in his off-duty grey sweats, his unstyled hair flopping across his forehead. In his hand was a brown bag, you instantly recognised the brand of your favourite take-out place printed across the front. It smelled heavenly.

“Buck…?” you mumbled in shock, not quite believing he was there, “what…what are you doing here?”

He shrugged, “you said you were alone and hadn’t eaten. I know how you get when you’re anxious. Figured you could use this”.

It wasn’t clear if he meant the food or the company, but in that moment, you were grateful for both.

He sat in the chair next to yours and began to methodically remove the food tubs, placing them on your lap and opening the lids as he pulled out a fork and napkins.

“Hope you still like this one,” he said as he revealed your usual order.

“I do”, you replied, your voice small.

“Good. Dig in.”

You began to eat slowly, feeling strangely self-conscious about your audience. Fortunately, he pulled out a tub of his own which took the focus off you. The two of you sat side by side and ate in silence.

“Thanks for this, Bucky,” you mumbled between mouthfuls.

“Anytime. Any news on Lou?”

“Should be ready for visitors soon”.

“Well, that’s good. He’s a tough old bastard.”

You both finished your meals and Bucky got to work tidying up the empty containers and old napkins and depositing them in the trash. You thanked him as he sat back down.

“Hey…thanks again, that was really thoughtful - but really, you don’t have to stay,” you shrugged, “you probably have a busy night”.

He shook his head, “nope. I’m wide open”.

He stared straight ahead and leaned back, his bulk squeezing up against the armrests of the chair. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“What do you mean when you said, ‘I know how you get when you’re anxious?’” you asked him tentatively.

“Just…I know how you can spiral when you’re stressed. Figured you could use some company is all,” he casually as he moved his hair away from his face.

“T-thanks,” you responded, your throat dry, “I’m not really up to chatting much right now, though”.

He was nonchalant, “that’s fine”.

The two of you sat side by side, nothing said.

It was awkward at first, sharing this cold and sterile space with your ex, worries about Lou weighing you down. But then after some time…it was sort of…okay? He didn’t try to initiate any conversation; he didn’t show any signs of boredom – even though he must’ve been feeling it. Didn’t complain. Didn’t check his watch. He just sat and waited with you, his arms propped up casually on the armrests and his eyes trained on the wall in front of him. You were grateful that he’d heeded your request not to speak as you didn’t have the brain power to labour a conversation. You didn’t fully understand why, but him just physically being there was strangely comforting - as odd as that was to admit to yourself.

Eventually the nurse returned, her smile warm as she greeted you.

“Oh, you have a friend. Right on time, Lou is ready to see you now”.

You quickly got to your feet and dashed after her as she led you to Lou’s room. Bucky followed close behind.

Your heart sank when you finally saw him, covered in wires and tubes, his face suddenly much older than his years. You gasped, rushing over to his bedside.

“Hey, kiddo” he wheezed, a smile creeping over his face despite the obvious effort it required, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“Oh God, Lou, I was so scared…I thought you’d…” you took his hand in yours, unable to say the words out loud as the tears started again.

You felt like you’d cave in on yourself from the anguish, but a steadying hand found its way to your shoulder from behind you. Bucky squeezed once, a small reminder of his presence, then pulled his hand away. It was grounding, helpful.

“Hey there hon, I’m doin’ okay”, Lou rasped as he weakly tried to grip your hand in return. “But I guess this is a good reminder to lay off the bacon, huh?” he chuckled before the effort caused him to wheeze.

You smiled faintly and patted his hand, careful to mind the IV by his fingers, “you gotta start taking better care of yourself, okay? No more greasy breakfasts at work…”

He nodded slowly, his eyes flickering over to Bucky behind you, “you brought company…”

“Oh, yeah”, you turned to gesture to Bucky, “he sat with me and brought me dinner while I waited”.

Lou nodded, a flash of something in his eyes you couldn’t place. “You takin’ care of her?”

Bucky nodded in return, “of course”.

Lou inhaled deeply, “well…alright, I’m glad she’s not been by herself”, he begrudgingly offered. “I wouldn’t want her out in the cold…so to speak” he said pointedly, a clear reference to that awful night one year before.

“Rest assured…that would never happen,” Bucky responded coolly. “But I understand your concern”.

You watched as the two men stared at each other, something resembling an understanding seemed to lay between them.

💔

You sat with Lou for as long as you could before the doctor shooed you and Bucky out, explaining Lou needed to rest. You promised you’d be back tomorrow.

“Oh hon…no. Don’t waste your time on an old man like me,” he teased playfully.

“Oh, stop that. You know I’m going to be here with balloons and grapes, the whole shebang…” you grinned, putting your coat on.

“Good to see you, Lou” Bucky chimed in as he shook Lou’s hand, “you’ll be fighting fit in no time”.

Unbeknownst to you as you were busy with your bag and coat, Lou used a finger to beckon Bucky to move closer. Bucky obliged, leaning forward so that Lou could speak to him. His words were hushed but clear.

“Hurt her again and I’ll beat the living shit out of you. Bad ticker or not. And I don’t care how many of your goons you set on me…”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, but his expression betrayed no emotion, “understood”.

You turned, smiling obliviously at Lou just as Bucky stood back up to full height and cleared his throat. They both smiled back.

“See you tomorrow, Lou”.

“See you, kiddo”.

You left the room with Bucky trailing behind. As a small sob escaped your throat, his hand pressed firmly against your back. A small reminder that he’d shown up for you. He was there.

💔

[mac-ann-cheese]

Some 19th century rusameamerus hcs!! (⁠゜⁠o⁠゜⁠;) and a little comic (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

Today, I will skip over the entire revolutionary war+whatever happened in the world in 1812, and we are nearing the 1820s. Um, no, actually over 1825... Cause in 1822 there is Monroe's doctrine with the whole "you don't mess with my stuff, I don't mess with yours,” a hands-off policy in South America, as a reaction to plans of the Holy Alliance (Austria, Prussia, Russia) to discuss matters at the Congress of Verona on the Spanish question. Like they wanted to restore Spanish rule over Latin American colonies that had declared their independence. AnOpinions of the former 13 colonies were not asked. The USA might have plans for LatAme, how could they??????!!!!!

Okay, I'll stop with the historical stuff. I got sidetracked. Sometimes I start to act like Philomena Cunk…

The portraits are in the appropriate style of grand manner for 18/19 century. Highly referenced Joshua Reynolds. They're unfinished cause I got bored. Sorry! (⁠˘⁠･⁠_⁠･⁠˘⁠)

Anywho

Al and Ivan knew each other in the first half of the 19th century. They met and interacted; some points of friendship were gained. This is established, at least in my interpretation. After many times of proving his independence, Alfred is still being isolated by the Old World. Like they're aware of his existence and literally don't give a fuck about it. Many other things are happening on the continent; no time for new acquaintances. However, America wants to be included and to have friends!! So he is still stuck with his "sort of not fully an ally in independence war cause yknow we don't want the british to consider us as enemies too, so here are two ships if the shit hits the fan - use them" Ivan. A close neighbour from the north who started doing... something? in the icy part of the land (expansion, colonial adventure in Alaska). A BIG imperial monarchy with a good position in the Concert of Europe. Someone who probably knows a lot about diplomacy and other things on how to exist as a whole country. On the other hand, Russia isn't reluctant to have a nosy and too energetic creature around; of course, he is excited about a new friend. They see benefits in each other—"the whole world will open for me/I won't feel so lonely with him". Almost compatible with problems. This was probably curiosity at first sight. Major "why is that with him this way and not the other?" factor.

A hot new bombshell has entered the villa

The next bit might come across as too metaphorical and OOC. You've been warned.

Ivan sees Alfred (at least until the 1850s) as too nice, too innocent, and an overall pure being. A boy is so full of wonder and love for everything that it feels almost impossible. Ivan doesn't want that to change and is actually afraid of it happening, he tries to hold back Alfred from seeing the other harsh side of reality; nevertheless, Al wants to experience all - dirt, bliss, the world as whole. He doesn't want to be brought back to life, isolated from others.

After the 1850s, the situation changed. Ivan really appreciated Alfred's benevolent neutrality with the mess the Crimean War was; there is no secret in that. As a way of showing gratitude for it, he started inviting Alfred more frequently to his place. For tea, for hunts or even without a proper reason [yeah, it takes like a month to sail from one continent to another, inconvenient!]. And Alfred crushed. Real hard (regular oh, italicized oh). No other nation was treating him like that—"humanly". Everyone wanted something from him and wished for him to somehow change in a direction that was more beneficial for them. For Ivan, Alfred, as he was, was more than enough. America knew that he appreciated Ivan way before, but didn't give much thought to his feelings. He was capable of some sort of controlling it. However, now [as in the second half of the 19th century] Alfred cannot. He sighs too loud, looks too long, and smiles too much. Everything feels too much for him to handle. He tries to distract himself and pays attention to making new friends (cough the opening of Japan in 1853-1855 cough), but is still drawn to Ivan. However, the latter doesn't understand why America is suddenly more jumpy, more uneasy with him, and why his laughs are more strained. Although Alfred insists that everything is just peachy (he doesn't want to ruin this friendship with his weird feelings), Ivan's suspicion grows. He wants to know why but can't come up with a solution.

Their already interesting liaison transforms into more confusion.

And I consider hetamyu canon (cause musicals fill in all the missing plot points in manga, for me at least), sooo according to the second one, there was something peculiar between them (the infamous kiss scene).

Although I headcanon, at least for half of the 19th century, their friendship was childlike and mostly naïve. Ivan and Alfred are tall kids in diff ways. And I can absolutely imagine them playing tag or hide and seek. Though, this could have happened in any century.

In 1861-1865 they couldn't physically see each other (Alfred had to crawl in trenches), so their usual correspondence intensified (that sort of "absolutely not gay in any way" messages, like "my heart aches at the thought of your suffering, my dearest friend")...

Except for the late autumn of 1863 [the visit of the Russian fleet during the fall-winter of 1863-1864*]. Ivan paid for the first time in a while for a visit to New York (I like to think that Alfred stayed a lot of times in Saint Petersburg; however, Ivan wasn't that fond of travelling). Alfred was tired and pretty much beaten from fighting with himself; however, some obsessed excitement brought back his optimism for one night. At the ball they, as expected, danced a bit, and escaped to a more enclosed space from people and noise. Not much talking happened there; soothing silence at that time was needed. Of course Alfred was stressed because your own family literally wants to dismember you (don't know if I need to put a historical reference, but still—at the outset of the war, England and France supported the South. Napoleon III, with colonial designs on Mexico [Second Franco-Mexican War, 1861-1867], looked longingly on a divided United States, and British shipping interests were seriously affected by Lincoln's blockade of southern US ports, which led to the recognition of the Confederate states as belligerents. Russia supported the Union).

*I wanted to add here an actual fun historical fact! This “gesture” was interpreted by Americans as sympathetical move and overall a sign of “secret agreement” and Russia's protection of US Government (you can read about it further here: https://www.jstor.org/stable/25156012)

Not long after that, Ivan started viewing Alfred as more mature than he was before (Ame literally got torn apart in the Civil War, of course he boosted in character development).

I'll stop here (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠)

(They were literally bros before hoes....................)

I'll think about making other additions to this long list of headcanons about the start of the 19th century and, of course, the whole selling Alaska event.

For finishing reading this scientific paper-sized post, you'll get old sketches of Al (and Matt!!! Woah!!) in Victorian clothing.

trench coat buttoned to the TOP.

[emwritesstuff]

as the world caves in | ch. 11 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.

masterlist | AO3

notes: :') We've come to the final chapter. Short and sweet. I still want to write an epilogue (yes I've seen the Thunderbolts* trailer) but this is the official ending of the fic! Thank you for riding this ride with me. (warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of death, depressive states, wwii) (word count: 1.9K)

eleven: sunrise

The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

His best friend, in a sundress, his jacket around her shoulders.

Bucky had dutifully ignored all of Sam’s quips and eyebrow wiggling as much as he could, but he couldn’t ignore this. As a familiar, melodic tune filled the summer air, his feet carried him half against his will to where she was sitting, his hand offering something he wasn’t sure he could deliver.

He hadn’t taken a girl to dance in seventy-some years.

But alas, a song was playing and he could feel the warmth of her body as they began swaying along the dancefloor, danger and elation wrestling for the main spot in his chest but finding no room. She’d taken all of it.

While they were like this, muscle memory kicking in as Bucky led them as a pair across the dance floor, it was like 1945 and beyond had never happened. He wasn’t the Winter Soldier, or the ghost of it. She wasn’t a WASP WWII hero with too much baggage and responsibilities. Just a boy and a girl, how it should’ve been if things were simple and fate wasn’t cruel.

He could’ve found the courage to ask her to dance, again and again, and ruin their friendship with a romance. They’d have a little house by the coast to go for the summer, and she’d laugh at how much sand he’d gotten in his shoes. Jimmy Barnes would’ve given her his last name, and by 2023 they’d both be not much but memories in their grandchildren’s heads.

“Buck.”

Her voice brought him back to a reality where two people who should be memories from the past were still alive and kicking. And what a blessing it was, to have her be more than just a memory or a photograph.

What a curse, to want to kiss her so badly and spoil the one good thing he’d gotten out of all of this bullshit.

He took Sam’s interruption and ran with it, literally, leaving her standing alone on the dancefloor as shame and self-consciousness creeped in. Because he could handle losing everything else, but not this. Not her.

Seventy-something years and Bucky was still a damned coward.

He reflected again on this many hours later, staring at the rising sun as if it was mocking him. A new day so he could do exactly what he’d been doing: eat around the edges, careful not to take too much but never really savoring anything.

He’d almost done it back at her house, her having the grace of smoothing over the awkwardness like the good diplomat she was. It was like he never learned; here we was again, being pulled in her direction like a magnet, his body aching and his insides burning for her in a way he didn’t remember ever feeling.

What used to be a sweet teenaged infatuation evolved into a ground-splintering love, not for the girl she used to be, but for the woman she was now.

It’s what drove Bucky up the stairs, leaving the laughing sunrise behind him, as if a new day wasn’t to come and the chance of his world being shattered wasn’t imminent.

He should be content with the bickering and the gentle, lingering touches; he should be fine with meeting once in a while to catch up on each other’s lives, admiring her from afar as if she was a star he could only wish upon. He wasn’t.

Bucky wasn’t content with much, lately.

Any doubt was vanished when he stepped into the corridor of rooms 302-316 and found her still standing there, wide eyes mirroring his, wet with longing and desperation.

In the spam of seconds, he took her face in his hands and did something he should’ve done seventy-something years ago: he kissed her.

Your fingers found his wrists, seeking leverage from them as a lifetime of fantasizing turned into reality and threatened to make you float away. Your name fell from his lips in a shaky whisper and he almost dared to pull away, but you didn’t let him. You should’ve kissed him that day in English soil, before you both died to the world and the time you belonged to. You kissed him in the present for your younger self, as if you were running out of time.

You weren’t. You knew you weren’t. But rational thinking could not reach you, not there in between his arms. You kissed him for your present self, who loved him so quietly for so long you forgot how loud your heart could be. He took it in stride, tangling his fingers in your hair and making you sigh.

He whispered your name again, pleading, but you shook your head, unsure what you’re denying him of; you tasted the salty tears before you could feel them on his face, or yours, it’s all the same at this point.

“Sugar, please look at me.” He said, still holding your face and planting kisses over your closed eyes. “Please,”

You looked up at him and his silver-rimmed eyes, your own spilling over despite his effort in wiping the emotion off your cheeks. “Bucky—”

You needed to tell him that you could not bear to have him explain himself; that you understood, that you would never hold this moment against him, but he didn’t let you. He ran his thumb over your trembling bottom lip, and you quietened.

“I should’ve done this such a long time ago. I’ve been so afraid to lose you I couldn’t bring myself to tell you how much I love you. I love you like crazy, because that’s what I am,” You’d be ready to disagree but sobs filled your throat, your hands fisted on his shirt the only thing tethering you to earth. “So much has changed but not this— never this. If anything this only grew. I’ve loved you for a lifetime, so please, please, be mine.”

Your hand reached up, tracing the line of his brow, his nose, his lips. He leaned into it, free from any previous inhibition. You’d been so blind in your fear. In your denial. Bucky Barnes now laid open on your palm, crying like the boy he once was and asking you to do the very thing you’ve been doing all of these years.

“There hasn’t been a single minute in this in this life where I haven’t been completely yours, James Barnes. I’ve loved you for a lifetime,” His shoulders sagged in relief, and he smiled brighter than the rising sun. Brighter than two suns, even.

Early morning bled into afternoon. The heat of the New Orleans air made your bare skin feverish and sticky, but neither you nor Bucky could bring yourselves to untangle your tangled limbs or move. His metal arm was the only solace against the heatwave, running up and down your back and making you shiver.

“This feels like a dream,”

 “I don’t think we’d be so sweaty if it was, Sugar.” He tightened his arm around you. “This is real. ’Sides, it’s so much better than any dream my fucked-up head could have concocted.”

You hummed a protest, raising your torso to look at him. “Don’t say that.”

“Mean it,” He cupped your face with his human hand, and you sighed. “I’ve got permanent damage. There is going to be bad days. This is why it took me so long. I just don’t wanna be more trouble than I’m worth,”

“Bucky…”

He insisted.  “I know you’re stubborn enough to stick around, I just—”

“I spent two weeks in bed when you resurfaced as the soldier.” You blurted out, sitting up fully. There was concern in Bucky’s eyes, and he kept you in place as you searched for a piece of clothing to cover up. Your eyes burned with the promise of more crying. “I’ve worked for S.H.I.E.L.D for decades and you were right under my nose,”

Your voice broke, then you finally found the shirt Bucky discarded early on the floor. “I took orders from the people making you a slave. I couldn’t find you because they kept you from me. Peggy, Howard, everyone. If I’d known—”

“None of that was your fault.” He said, urgent hands reaching for you to get back in bed with him. “You were just as much a weapon as I was. I never held that against you and I never will,”

“I felt like a fraud. Steve had to come and help me bathe, eat, brush my hair.” You mumbled, wiping the stray tears with the back of your hand. “I felt like I didn’t deserve the privilege of having you in my life again. And I was terrified that you wouldn’t want to be. I’m so sorry, Bucky.” He shook his head, sitting up with you. Leaned close so he could rest his forehead against yours. “And I was a coward for not saying I loved you before you went on that fuckin’ mission in ��42. Acting like a prick because I was too scared to lose you.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad I didn’t listen.”

If you had, you wouldn’t be here. You’d never take the serum, and both Bucky and Steve, your boys, would be too further in time for you to catch. You’d be nothing but a face in each other’s memories.

“You never listen…”

You both chuckled, a pathetic, half-drowned thing on your end. “Exactly. So quit saying I’m too good for you. We’re exactly the same,”

Bucky shook his head again but gave in, kissing you sweetly then placing a kiss on your shoulder. You doubted he’d truly let that go, and you were ready to argue with him about it for the rest of time. He wrapped his arms around you and you did the same, staying like that for a while. Doing nothing but breathing in one another and allowing the past and the guilt to dissolve away.

“That’s why I’ll still complain about your terrible coffee.” Bucky scoffed at that, tightening his hold on you as if it was a punishment and not the best thing ever. “And make fun of you for being terrible with technology. Help you through the bad days and enjoy every minute of the good,”

“My coffee’s not that bad,” He grumbled, not addressing anything else and knowing you’d read between the lines. You both laughed.

“Just because this is going to be a long, winding road, doesn’t mean I don’t want to walk it with you, James.”

“’Till there’s two suns in the horizon?”

You hummed.  “I don’t think this world is caving in anytime soon. You know it, people’ve tried.”

He grimaced. “Yeah.”

“Then let’s live, Bucky Barnes. You and me. Just… live.”

Bucky’s eyes were warm under the dim lights of your motel room. This moment wasn’t the world wasn’t at its end. It probably never would.

This… this was just the beginning.

He smiled. The crooked, perfect show of teeth Bucky brought from the past just for you. “We ain’t getting any younger, Sugar.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Second Chance 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Jonathan Pine

Summary: You move into your parents' house as you try to rebuild your life, catching the attention of someone you never expected.

Part of the Brother's Best Friend Universe

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

It’s no glorious homecoming. You have little to be proud of. A broken relationship, a lost job, and wasted years. In hindsight, it’s easy to see how stupid you are. Even with the excuse of emotion, you can’t forgive yourself for your own poor choices.

Back to square one. Literally. What kind of forty-two year old lives with their parents? The one staring back at you.

You splash your face, rinsing away the collagen wash that doesn’t seem to help the wrinkles. If it had, maybe he wouldn’t have cheated. Maybe he wouldn’t be shacked up with a woman half your age. A girl, really.

You shake your head and sigh. Nothing you can do or undo.

You shut off the tap as you hear voices above. The basement is close enough to an apartment; you have your own bathroom and a reasonable amount of space. Privacy is another matter as your mother barges in to get to the laundry room or even just chatter about Clara’s casserole.

You dry your face and your hands and leave the bathroom. You cross the carpeted floor to the stairs and pause. Your brother must have got to town early and your parents are ecstatic to have him back. They can be proud of him; he’s an executive in a national company with a wife-to-be on his arm. Younger but always ahead of you.

You still haven’t found the courage to go up and say hello. Now’s as good a time as ever. You’re thirsty and they say hydration is the key to staying young. Yeah right, that’s not something you can change now.

You hope your future sister-in-law doesn’t mind your pajamas. The blue and white striped satin set are of the few nice things you salvaged from your former life. You open the door and shuffle up in your slippers.

The voices draw you to the kitchen. You peek around and find your parents standing on one side of the square island as your brother stands between two other figures. You didn’t think there was anyone else coming.

You think better of introducing yourself. You’ll go back downstairs and say you fell asleep. As you turn, your arm hits the vase on the side table. You cringe as it goes silent.

“Honey?” Your mother calls to you. You exhale and steel yourself.

“Uh, hi,” you sidle into the doorway, “I didn’t want to interrupt. I just wanted to get some water.”

“Nonsense, Jaydon’s here with his love fiancee, Tandi,” she trills as she beckons you forward, “and Jonathan popped in to catch up.”

You look around as you near the island. Jonathan. Pine? You didn’t think he was still around here. Everyone else seems to have moved on.

“Hey,” your brother, Jaydon grumbles.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Tandi offers her hand with a bright smile. She’s tall and slim and beautiful and probably ten years younger than your brother. Why do men always do that?

“You too,” you give a strained smile.

“Nice to see you again,” Jonathan intones and you look at him, struck by his clinging eyes.

He changed but he is not unrecognizable. He was always the tall, stringy kid but he’s filled out, he has some lines across his forehead and around his eyes, but they only refine his looks. He used to just be your brother’s sidekick, now he stays straight and confident.

“You too, Jonathan,” you murmur, “sorry, I didn’t think you’d be here tonight.”

“We made pretty good time,” Jaydon says proudly.

“Just so happens I’m in town for a family affair as well,” Jonathan adds, “good a time as ever to reconnect.”

You nod and wait for someone else to speak. You have nothing exciting to boast of. You’d rather fade into the background in the shine of their achievements. You’re certain they’ve already been briefed on your comedy of errors.

“Me and Tandi were just saying we’d like to go to the farmer’s market tomorrow. You could join us for a ladies’ day out. We’ll give the men some space,” your mother chimes. “Get you out of the house.”

Her last comments sting. You’ve been hiding. You don’t want to be recognised or need to explain yourself. Even if you did deflect curiosity, you don’t need another reminder of all your failures. And the farmer’s market? What are you going to do there? You don’t have the money for overpriced heirloom tomatoes.

Still, you have to play along. That was the talk your mother had with you. Like a teenager she had to tell you exactly how to behave when company was there. Company? He’s your brother.

“Sure, that sounds good,” you agree.

“I’m so excited,” Tandi beams, “it will be nice to explore and get to know Jay’s hometown.”

She touches his arm and he promptly drapes it around her shoulders. Jay? He always hated being called that but he seems to like her. For now. Their show of intimacy makes you shrivel up inside.

“There is very much to see,” Jonathan quips, putting your own thoughts to words. “Quaint, as the polite would put it.”

“Well, I recall you never had any issue finding something to do,” your mother rebukes playfully and Jonathan smirks.

“Yes, but I don’t suppose it’s the sort of activity your little ladies’ day out would entail,” he gives a coy tilt of his head.

“I hope you’ve grown out of that,” your mother kids.

“Mm, I like to think I have,” he shrugs.

You’re certain he has. All of them are the adults in the room and you’re the hermit in the basement. You have no illusions, you know your mother, you know all your mistakes have been laid out on the table; on every table in town. Oh woe to her, she always did try to raise you right.

“Mm, yes, well, it has been so long and you are all adults,” your mother says, as if to affirm your resent, “you’ve all come such a far way.”

You bite down on your cheeks, holding your tongue. It’s probably not a snipe at you, you’re just sensitive. You look at the counter and try to make yourself small. The glimpse of your pajamas once more sets you apart from them. How embarrassing.

“Oh, yes, speaking of,” Jaydon pipes up, “the engagement party. You said you had a venue in mind. We should see that while we’re here.”

“Ah,” your mother nearly squeals, “you’re going to do it here?”

“We talked about it,” Jaydon looks at Tandi, “but the wedding is still up in the air.”

“Oh my, how exciting,” your mother trills. “Perhaps tomorrow then, we might do that as well,” your mother continues her giddy raving, “mm, and flowers, catering, oh! A dress…”

You could slip away right then. She wouldn’t notice. None of them would.

You peek over at her. She was never that excited for you. Well, you never got the ring. You were never that special. You tear your eyes away and they meet another pair. You quickly wipe the sadness from your face and send Jonathan a plaintive smile. His eyes narrow and his gaze lingers.

You break your own stare and try to focus on the conversation. You should be happy for your brother, not bitter. Afterall, you made your own mistakes, not him.

[admin-cock-creations]

Date a Merc: Chapter 14

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Pairing: Engineer / Reader Summary: Date an Engie who loves and appreciates you. Warnings: N/A

The Mann Co. Wars were over and gone, with most of the general public still greatly unaware that such a war had gone on for so long. The remaining mercs had been paid their severance packages and bonuses based on their years of servitude and slipped back into their subjectively normal lives as if nothing had changed. A great deal of the former mercenaries on both teams kept in contact with one another, even forming a few support groups that regularly met around the globe. Some returned to husbands, wives, and families, while others were thrilled to experience the dating scene without the need to conceal their identity. Your darling husband was one such former mercenary.

Neither of you had been looking for a relationship, and you’d quite literally stumbled into one another at the local fair the year after the liquidation of Mann Co. Joseph had been in the livestock barn admiring the animals set to be shown, and you’d been repairing the sprinkler system that kept the critters cool in the festering summer heat. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was walking, and you were just trying to get down from your ladder. Thankfully the two of you only tumbled into a nearby hay wheelbarrow full of feed and not something worse, and you’d both gotten a laugh out of the fumble, but he still insisted on making it up to you somehow.

You started spending your time together at the fair that day, staying to watch the animals be shown and discussing which Joe should purchase for his ranch. He’d come expecting to leave with just a heifer or two, maybe a young bull, but ended up purchasing a few more fine animals he couldn’t resist. You certainly came in handy when you offered to help him haul the animals back, given that you’d brought your trailer to the fair, too. Now he was left needing to doubly repay you.

You weren’t sure how much time passed until he officially asked you out, much less when he kissed you for the first time, but the flow of time continued until you eventually found yourself with matching rings on your hands and sharing the comfort of a home.

It was quite the crisp fall day for the Midwest, and Joseph had been out most of the day, working away on repairing his tractor before winter came. You had been dutifully tending to the animals and your kitchen garden, gently checking in on your husband once in a while but knowing better than to interrupt when he got deep into his machines. Especially when it looked like he was about to take this one apart piece by piece.

You wouldn’t have guessed it, but Joseph was actually less intensely invested in his work than you thought, and that was greatly in part thanks to you. Were he still at Mann Co. he’d be throwing and kicking things by now, but something about your sheer nature had seeped some kind of gentleness into the very fibers of his being, and while he was very annoyed, he was still level-headed about his tractor project. You checked on him one last time, dropping off a thermos of warm coffee before returning to the house. He couldn’t help but smile as he listened to the front door, noting the pause of the screen door swinging shut that signaled you letting in the old tomcat.

Both of you lost track of time as the day continued, you lost in the preparation of dinner and some little chores around the house while Joe remained outside. Finally, you stepped back out onto the porch, standing at the top step as you wiped your hands on your apron and called for your husband across the field.

“Josie! Supper’s just about done!”

Joseph let out a heavy sigh as he wiped his own hands on a grease-stained rag, placing his tools away back in his toolbox before hefting himself up from the dirt. He took a moment to stand there, wiping his hands some more as he stared at you with a little crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He could see the signs of dinner on your apron, see how the toes of your houseshoes wiggled in soft impatience, see the old denim of your favorite overalls you had sewn flower embroidery into on a whim. His heart was warm, and his belly grumbled as he finally moseyed back to the house.

“Make any progress on her?” You questioned in that gentle tone of yours, making his smile break even bigger.

“A little. Gettin’ closer to solvin’ the big problem. One little problem at a time.”

You walked inside, Joseph stopping to hang up his hat and coat by the door before following you into your little dining room. He sat down in his chair after shooing away the tomcat, sighing in relief as the wooden chair was more comfortable than the cold dirt ground he’d been on all day.

“I guess you’d figured something out. Saw how you were eyeing up that part you pulled out a couple hours ago so I went ahead and called up to Tom’s and told him you might be up later this week for something.”

Tom’s was the main part store in town, a small but well-stocked and family-operated business that knew you and your husband well by name. Joseph felt his heart flutter as he watched you serve him up a plate of dinner, acknowledging that you’d gone ahead and made a call he likely would have made on his own.

“Thank you, darlin’, you’re wonderful.”

He let you place down his plate and utensils before grabbing your wrist and placing a series of small, lingering kisses on the back of your hand.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You chuckled and leaned down to place a return kiss on his temple.

“You’re still making up for knocking us into that wheelbarrow.”

[lumassen]

I'm hungry for densu content. Would you, please? >< please please please

Hello! I literally saw this ask earlier today and decided to sit just with a word document for an hour and see what we ended up with.

Here we have part one of a little 1930’s inspired drabble. The pacing isn’t my best, but I hope you like it!

——————

The drizzle outside was unpleasant, causing the cobbles to become slippery underfoot. Stefan quickened his pace, keeping his head low and his gaze beneath the brim of his hat as to not bump into anyone that he was familiar with. The letter he’d received in the morning post was tucked safely in the inside breast pocket of his jacket, his heartbeat beneath it steadily growing more unsteady as he approached his destination. It was 1931, Stockholm, and the lamplighter was already out - he was late.

Stefan had known from an early age that he wasn’t how he was supposed to be. He wasn’t interested in petticoats and garter belts and red painted lips, though beautiful as they were. Instead, Stefan was drawn to his own sex, destined to either live in sin or live a lie. For now, he chose the former, frequenting secret clubs and booking hotel rooms under false names, but it couldn’t last forever. Stefan didn’t work in service, nor did many anymore, especially after the war, and so he couldn’t blame the absence of a wife and family on his chosen career for much longer. Soon people would begin to wonder why he was without children and eventually put two and two together.

But Stefan was just 27, and still had some time left yet before he needed to think about settling down; time to spend with the one whom he truly loved.

The rain was beginning to come down heavier now, and Stefan narrowly avoided a puddle as he stepped out to cross the road as he reached the venue. He fussed with his trouser leg, pulling at the fabric to lift it above his ankle until another pair of feet came into his field of vision. He recognised the brogues, polished yet scuffed, and his head snapped up so that his eyes could land on their wearer.

There, leaning against the wall beside the entrance to the establishment, an old cotton traders, was Jens.

“Evenin’ Lundberg,” he said around the cigarette that hung from his lips, and Stefan tipped the brim of his hat in greeting, barely concealing the smile that spread across his usually stoic features.

He watched as Jens eyes darted over his shoulder and waited whilst he made sure that they weren’t being watched. When the coast was clear, Jens pushed himself up from were he was leaning and turned to rap on the door - two short and loud knocks followed by three taps of the forefinger. There was movement on the other side, and Stefan checked once more over his shoulder before following Jens inside.

‘Cottons’, as it was known amongst men of Stefans sort, was always comfortably busy, and Stefan returned nods and glances that were directed at him from other frequents. His hand had barely let go of his coat and hat from where he’d hung them up before Jens took hold of it in his, bringing it to his lips and leaving the gentlest of kisses on the back of it.

In these sorts of establishments, especially in the new era of 1930, displays of affection were commonplace. When Stefan first met Jens however, he wasn’t used to it, and would chide and berate him for acts such as this in front of others. But now, after spending 6 months apart, Stefan found that it wasn’t enough to satisfy the butterflies that swarmed within him.

Stepping forward, Stefan brought a calloused hand up to the side of Jens face, his fingers curling just beneath Jens’ jaw, and pulled him in for a kiss. The butterflies took flight, the murmur of voices in the room disappeared, and all that Stefan could think about was Jens.

”God, how I’ve missed you.” Jens mumbled against Stefans lips as he slipped his hand into his back pocket.

For a few moments they just stood within the others embrace, foreheads pressed against the others, their gazes’ steady, until the bartender called over.

“Hey Jens, come and boost the Swedish economy, we’ve missed having a Dane and his drinks tab in here.”

Taking a step back from Stefan, a wide grin broke out across Jens’ face as he turned toward the bar,

“Two of the usual then please, Magnus!” He called back, giving Stefan a wink before entwining their hands and pulling them in the direction of their pints.

By now, Stefan was used to Jens’ extravagance, though at times it still left him with a voice in the back of his head that told him that one day Jens would lose interest in him.

As a Royal correspondent for a major Danish newspaper, Jens was more than just a handsome face. He was educated, intelligent, and knew how to work a room. He would turn heads wherever he went, had wit and charm and an infectious laugh, low and hearty and full of soul. Jens could have whomever he wanted, and yet he still chose Stefan.

As if sensing Stefans insecurity, Jens brushed his hand lightly through Stefans hair,

“Hey, I didn’t sail across the Øresund strait for this y’know,” Jens said as he took a seat on a stool and motioned with a flicker of his eye toward the pint of beer in his hand,

”Well, not just this,” he smirked as he took a sip, and Stefan rolled his eyes.

Placing his other hand on Stefans knee as he slid onto the stool beside him, Jens lowered his voice,

”I really have missed you. I still keep your photograph on the nightstand.”

Somehow to Stefan, that felt more intimate than any kiss could, and when he turned to look at Jens he saw nothing but genuine affection within his eyes.

It had been nearly three years since Stefan and Jens had met. Jens, whom was on a business trip at the time, visited Åhléns department store to purchase new driving gloves. At first he was just another customer to Stefans counter, but when he noticed that Jens had returned for three days in a row, each time buying a different pair of gloves, Stefan began to realise that Jens lingered a little longer than patrons usually did.

After each encounter, Stefan would stare at the ceiling at night and wonder if he was reading too much into the way that Jens would touch his forearm ever so gently before asking to see something from within the cabinet, or how he would steal glances at him whilst he was taking the measurements of his hands. But on the fourth day, when Jens appeared at his counter with a single green carnation pinned to his lapel, Stefan could never forget how he felt within that moment.

”Jens, d’ya think,” Stefan began, then paused to draw in a breath.

Jens still held his hand on his leg, a comfortable grasp just beneath the beginning of his thigh.

”How much longer can this really go on?” He said through an exhale, and watched as Jens’ face fell.

“Come on Stef, let’s not ruin our first night together after so long.” He pleaded, his hand now gripping a little tighter.

But as much as Stefan wanted to remain blissfully unaware to the fact that at some point what he and Jens shared would inevitably come to an end, it was now getting to the point where he just couldn’t imagine his life carrying on without him - and he hadn’t realised just how much until he set eyes on him again this evening after their longest time apart.

Jens set his beer down, the glass still half full.

“Look, let's go to the hotel. Your booking is under Larsson. I’ll meet you there.” Jens said, a firm tone to his voice as he slid off the stool. He hesitated for a moment, and Stefan thought that he might say something else. But he instead just stooped to press a fleeting kiss on Stefans cheek before he took his leave, and Stefan was left with a tight coil within his chest; perhaps this was the beginning of the end.

——————

*Green carnations were a MLM symbol and queer coded, originating in France in around 1925

* I really tried my best to be as historically accurate as I could with this, but I wrote it in about an hour so my research was only brief. I apologise if anything is off.

* I will do a part two at some point, I just ran out of steam lol

[the-starry-seas]

So this whole BOBF AU started because I saw a meme on reddit and proceeded to take it seriously

So Boba of course has all those problems about being a clone, and of course all those problems about his dad being dead. Being a Fett just means having issues in general, right? I mean we've all seen Jango.

Boba is doing his perfectly normal daimyo thing when the Hutt twins show up with their tribute. Instead of a rancor - in this AU, the rancor was left behind by the former daimyo that Boba shot - the Hutt twins have a clone. Specifically, they have a clone made from Boba's DNA, rather than Jango's. They specify this when they drop him off.

Boba understands this as the implied threat it is. Someone who has his DNA without him realising it... nope, he has to dig into that and kill whoever is responsible.

He also has an extremely traumatised eight-year-old. The new kid's designation is 'Clone Experiment Prime'. Which is a little long for a name so they (Boba, Fennec, Din) call him Prime. They also start trying to figure out where Prime came from.

Eventually they figure everything out, destroy the facility, destroy the remaining DNA sample, and then go and kill the Hutt twins. It's a win for everyone involved! Well, everyone in the Fett clan.

And then Boba has to go back to Tatooine and deal with Prime. He does not want to be a father. He does not want to deal with a kid. He does ask if maybe Din wants to adopt Prime. Din essentially says "What's wrong with you? Get your shit together and step up for your new kid."

Meanwhile Prime is well aware that Boba does not want him around. Sure, Boba hasn't said anything where Prime can hear, but Boba's default way of dealing with new things is to be closed off and aloof, and that's not exactly reassuring. Prime's general takeaway from all this is I wasn't good enough for the scientists, so it's no wonder I'm not good enough for my father.

Besides, Boba has Fennec and Din, and Din has Grogu, so it doesn't seem like any of them have any need for Prime. Fennec and Din pay attention to him, sure, but they don't exactly seem to care. They don't ever tell him that he's wanted.

So the tiny, scared, angry clone who's never known love a day in his life... runs. He was abandoned in the science facility, so he thinks he knows how to survive on his own. Turns out that things are much more dangerous on Tatooine than one might expect.

It's not long before Boba realises that Prime is missing, and he then assumes that Prime was kidnapped. He promptly starts asking around in the criminal underworld. By which I mean he shoots a bunch of people and makes a bunch of threats, because he's Boba Fucking Fett and he's pissed off.

When a crew of lowlifes run across Prime, they recognise him as the daimyo's missing kid, and figure there's a great reward in it for them if they bring him back to the palace. Prime does not want to go back to the palace. This is completely irrelevant to the lowlifes, who drag him off, quite literally kicking and screaming.

Boba is not impressed with the way they're treating Prime, and promptly commits more violence.

This does not endear him any to Prime, who's well aware that Boba doesn't like him, and figures he's going to be next because of all the trouble he's caused. His attempt at running for his life is thwarted by Boba catching him.

Boba is not prepared for Prime to break down crying, or for Prime to swear he'll leave and never come back, if only Boba won't hurt him.

Boba reluctantly decides that if he's going to be anything like his father before him... he's gonna have to adopt the kid.

This starts an extremely tense father-son relationship, which Boba proceeds to mess up multiple times, because he has no idea what he's doing. And because he doesn't really want to be a dad in the first place, but he knows that if Prime does run off on his own, he's just going to become another target as soon as anyone figures out his connection to Boba. (Also Boba has daddy issues and abandonment issues, and something something healing your inner child, but in this case it's a child clone of you.)

Upon being treated with kindness for the first time in his life, Prime becomes the sort of clingy that is generally reserved for baby koalas. Boba is hardly the best dad, or even a good dad, really. But he cares about what happens to Prime, and ensures that nobody has a chance to hurt him, and gets him a good education and a pet massiff and a coat that protects him from the sand and a bed that's soft. Prime thinks that Boba's pretty great.

He also starts panicking extremely when he starts thinking that he's a girl, because Boba always calls him 'son' and 'boy' and 'him', and there will surely be some problems in the family if Prime is suddenly none of those things.

Once again, having been forced to be self-sufficient at a young age due to neglect, Prime's solution to all this is to run away, because if nobody knows where she is, they won't be able to hurt her.

Once again, Boba thinks that someone's kidnapped Prime and kills people about it, because if anybody's laid a hand on his kid, they're going to regret it.

Fortunately nobody else finds Prime this time around. Possibly because they're all aware that Boba's on the warpath, and they don't want to get in the middle of that. Or maybe it's just because she's gotten better at hiding, and also has a massiff with her who looks ready to rip the face off of anyone who looks at her wrong.

Boba finds her a few days later and is not pleased with any part of this situation. (He's also been scared shitless by the idea that slavers got their hands on his kid, but god forbid he feel a normal human emotion, so he's covering all that up with rage.)

Anyway, Boba and Prime end up in a screaming match in the street, because Boba thinks Prime is absolutely bonkers for running away from home again, and because of the aforementioned rage cover.

He's also stunned speechless when Prime finally shrieks at him that she ran away from home because she's a girl and he wants a son.

In the most exasperated and baffled tone known to man, he tells her that he doesn't care if he has a daughter or a son, he just wants her to be safe. (And in that moment, maybe, he's the most like his father that he ever will be.)

Prime is also stunned speechless by this, because she genuinely thought that Boba would discard her the second she no longer lived up to his expectations. That's what the scientists did, and it's the only frame of reference she has, for failure.

Upon realising that he's not like the scientists, she immediately starts crying. Boba immediately starts panicking, because he thinks she's been hurt. He somehow panics even more when she flings herself at him and hugs him, because he has no idea what to do about any of this. Eventually he picks her up and carries her home.

Boba has exactly zero idea how to support his daughter in her social transition. She can do whatever she wants, obviously. But it seemed to be a pretty big problem, so he feels like he has to say something. So he tells her that he'll do whatever she wants, if it will help, and asks if maybe she can talk to him if there's any problems, instead of running away again. (He's over thirty so like. His knees. Please have mercy on his knees. He can't keep running around like that.)

Prime decides that she wants a new name, because being called Prime always went hand in hand with being called a boy. Also it reminds her of the lab she was raised and then abandoned in, and she doesn't really like that. She asks if Boba will help her look for a new one, and Boba is internally actually kinda excited by this because it seems like a gesture of trust from her.

She decides to change her name to Prim, short for Primrose. Boba has some questions about that, because wasn't the point of changing her name... well, to be different than before? But he doesn't ask, because he doesn't want another runaway episode, and also she seems really happy with it. Anything to make his daughter happy.

(Being eight years old, Prim does not have the vocabulary to explain why she changed her name so slightly. It's about claiming what once signified her lack of autonomy, and making it part of her identity once she's allowed to have one. Prim is a similar word to Prime. That's the point. She's so similar to what she once was - when she was a scared, abandoned boy in an old lab, certain of nothing but a father's uncaringness - and there's barely any differences right now. But they are there. And they mean everything to her.)

Boba asks her about the flower she named herself after. She shows him pictures and gushes about how pretty they are, and asks if maybe, some day, when she's older, they can go on a trip to see some in person?

He says he'll think about it. He surprises her a week later with a huge flowerpot full of pink and yellow primroses in full bloom.

She tells him that he's the best dad a girl could ever have. And in that one simple sentence, is contained everything she ever wanted.

[dr9com9ge-ix]

I'd adore to know more about Wili, if you've had any more thoughts...

Hello Anon! I’ve had many thoughts since this was sent and have accumulated them! Accompanied by some Wili Art by yours truly! (Long post warning, Yapping time! Thank you so much for sending this ask!!!!!)

So this is Wili- Former employee of K-corp (Specifically the food resource development team, Mostly focused on horticulture) and now current employee of the Limbus company! He has a strong desire (nearing obsession) to innovate on how food is obtained and spreading it across the city when he finds it by any means necessary! He left his old job because he felt like it was stagnating and didn’t let him expriment as much as he’d like to (He was in a very middle position I imagine, Not quite at the bottom but not a big enough shot to be on level with Dongrang or something)

And so this spurs him to look elsewhere to satisfy this hunger for knowledge, for a world where one could just pick an apple off a tree and never starve again and well like… His literal hunger!

So he was offered a chance to satisfy that by the Limbus company and he happily accepted! Ever curious about the abnormalities the company faces- If whether or not they’d taste good or provide anything for people. Both in the name of science and the future but also because he is hungry. A wee bit of mad scientist and a gourmand in one.

His EGO is called Stomachache!— It sort of delves into the carrot on a stick/ Forbidden fruit sort of vibe of the future he wants being akin to a ravenous hunger, the kind that turns people into feral animals. He literally bites people in his EGO attack! (Thats where the healing comes from-) He also is quite food agressive and it factors into his passive making him go faster, Probably the sanity hit from EGO use making him act alot less polite than he usually is.

He definitely wants the whole “Food is now easily accessible for everyone!” utopia so he could eat as much as he wants and not think of the possibility of it being taken from him- Also because he thinks the worst thing you could do to someone is just starving them!

Butcher Vanity is probably the main song I listen to when doodling him- Its a very him song to me. Also still thinking about other characters relating to his past/ would be in his Canto and I think it’d be cute to make em fruit themed (There… Isn’t alot of characters to work off of in his source material…Its literally just The Hungry Caterpillar)

Also for other EGOs aside from his own he definitely would have Mountain of smiling bodies/ Smile - Its relating to the hunger! And well he may or may not be willing to kill to have consistent and hearty meals. (also say Hi to Erik my boy he’s in this doodle page too). Maybe also a Fairy Festival/ Fairy Gentleman Ego too. As for IDs- Mayhaps an Eighth Chef/Greta one, a Liu assocation. All that jazz!

Other wee facts about Wili

- Wili has pretty bad hunger pangs, enough to make him want to eat before he thinks he’ll get them. Has a tendency to overeat though.

- He loves talking at length about agriculture — Though mostly from a scientific lens, as he’s never been a farm boy. Mostly working on plants in a lab setting rather than a field. He’ll also yap about food preparation too.

- Kind of dude that will try to grow stuff from groceries.

- His favorite food is a fresh fruit salad but a nice rare steak is a close second!

- He may or may not have considered who to eat first in case of an emergency and may have been too enthusiastic to try human flesh. (much to his coworkers’ horror and then eventual “Okay Wili we know…” /exasperated)

- His little caterpillar hairclip was a gift from a former coworker at K-corp. He thinks its very cute and just has it on him all the time.

-He’s… Maybe also inspired by the Genetically Modified Caterpillar video- In the sense of “Little hungry dude becomes horrifying due to this insatiable hunger and devours things due to science!”

- His name comes from the unused title/ Draft title of The Hungry caterpillar which was “A week with Wili the worm” Because I really didn’t want to name him after the author (I’d have Eric with a C and Erik with a K in that case) and couldn’t find a caterpillar-ish name that would work.

[kaqura]

I apologise for asking this if it isn't something you want to talk about but do you know why there is so much hatred for Kagura from so many S*ssr*n shippers/HnY fans? I haven't seen HnY because I don't like sequels that take away the happy ending of the original so I only know a few spoilers through the grapevine, but the Kagura hate I've seen lately from some HnY fans reminds me of anti-Kikyou Inukag shippers from twenty years ago. But Inukag shippers are more supportive of Kikyou nowadays and fandom in general is less misogynistic than it used to be, so I don't understand why another woman being important to Sesshoumaru in the original Inuyasha series is so unacceptable that Kagura gets hate now. Even if people ship S*ssr*n, love isn't a finite resource? Sesshoumaru loving and wanting to avenge Kagura doesn't mean he can't love anyone else, it doesn't diminish his other relationships—especially because Rin was a literal eight-year-old child when Kagura was alive. It's not like Kagura was a yandere type who harmed Sesshoumaru or anyone else he cared about, either, after a while Rin knew she had nothing to fear from Kagura and was squee'ing about Kagura being in love with Sesshoumaru.

Again, I apologise for how long this question was and sending it on Anon, I just didn't want to get hate from S*ssr*n shippers or HnY fans. Kagura's my favourite Inuyasha character, so it made me sad to browse the Inuyasha reddit/tumblr and see people calling her a 'manipulative bitch' and such when I went looking for fanart and fic about her. It's especially strange coming from people who praise other former villain characters like Sesshoumaru, who did worse things than Kagura when he was evil.

hello buddy sorry this is late i literally did not see it??

but since i'm obviously on the opposite end of the spectrum in this situation & have only really been involved in the tumblr iy fandom for so many years, the only thing i know about any of that drama is that she's perceived as a threat to their yucky ship bc she was really the canon love interest for sesshomaru in the og series. and kagura is obviously the polar opposite of rin in literally every aspect. like, we have a demoness that was born from the body of the main villain who comes out the gate swinging on koga's entire family & is forced to beef with the whole inugang constantly and calls sesshomaru a bitch to his face the second time they meet. versus a cute lil baby who's a complete blank slate. so for people that don't care for her bc of their ship bias it's pretty easy to misinterpret her character & motivations and draw silly conclusions lmao. i'm not gonna say kagura isn't problematic in some ways but LITERALLY WHO CARES it's not that serious?? pretty much everyone in IY has done morally questionable shit. it's a fairy tale set in feudal japan, like. and it sucks that you're coming across negative bs when you're just trying to enjoy yourself in this fandom!! that happened to me too when i first got back into iy in 2020 bc i didn't know that kagura was like severely hated until i joined an iy group on fb (owned by you-know-who, unbeknownst to me) and saw all that weird shit lmao. but there's a lot of really great creators on tumblr, at least, that are anti-sr & pro-kagura, so i hope that you could at least enjoy yourself on this blog!! <3

[ineverwrite]

All Good Things 4

Previous Chapters

Fred Weasley x Reader

The summer before their 5th year, Y/N felt the air shift. It seemed sudden, the way that the light that used to frame everything about the wizarding world and magic had darkened.

Upon crossing the magic barrier of 9 ¾ Y/N hardly had said good-bye to her family as she bee-lined her way to her best friends Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinet, and Katie Bell. The three erupted with glee at seeing their friend, eloping her with hugs and demands to know where the bloody hell she’d been all summer.  

           “You have no idea.” Y/N grumbled darkly.

           Y/N had spent the break couped up with Neville. Not that she didn’t like Neville, she loved her cousin, but the similar interests between a 13-year-old boy and 15-year-old girl were limited. After the murderer and former Death Eater Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban their grandmother and her parents seemed to become wardens overnight, strictly enforcing curfews and going far as checking her mail. That caused an incredible row, ending with Y/N being grounded for the better half of the summer.

Before she had the chance to think, Y/N’s world went sideways-literally.

“And where the bloody hell have you been!?” Fred Weasley demanded in his usual laughing tone, almost toppling over the now blushing and giggling girl. It was at some point last school year that Fred realized with fondness that Y/N’s laugh is the one he reveled in the most, and scarcely let an opportunity pass to hear it. Too dazzled and overwhelmed at his sudden thereness- Y/N couldn’t even respond before the final call whistles of the Hogwarts Express blared next to them.

           “Saved by the bell aye? Let’s find our seats…” Fred let go of his all too willing victim and followed his twin into the trolly. Turning slightly, still dazed, Y/N looked into the faces of her equally surprised, awed, and grinning faces of her friends.

           “Well, well, well- “ Katie smirked,

           “That’s new!” Alicia declared,

           “Where did that come from!?” Angelina questioned,

           “I have no idea.” Y/N replied dreamily.

Settling into their cabins the friends flowed into their usual routine, having this be the 5th trip they’ve taken to Hogwarts together. Y/N settled into her spot next to the window and across from the Weasley twin that made her heart skip a beat. How was it possible for him to be any fitter? Y/N thought hopelessly. All of the Weasleys had pretty hair, vividly red with mixes of auburn, cinnamon, and gold. The twins both had the build of a Beater- with broad shoulders and strong arms, definitely on the stockier side than their tall and gangly brothers. In the corner of the cabin Fred had his whole body angled toward his brother- who was animatedly discussing the newest broomstick with Angelina.

           A vicious jolt of the train knocked the Gryffindors around their cabin, the air turned frozen and still, the lights went out and Y/N knew then what pure fear felt like. Screams echoed through the Hogwarts Express, introducing the nightmare that drifted through the halls. Dementors, more horrible than ever previously imagined. In those horrible moments Y/N knew that the sun would never feel as warm, that laughing would never come as easy, or that she’d ever sleep as soundly again after knowing that these creatures existed. She was shaking from her position on the floor, in the chaos she hadn’t noticed that her and Fred both were knocked to the ground. He had his arm slung protectively over her chest, though his pale and horrified face surely reflected her own. Then, as soon as it happened, it was over. The Dementors were gone, the lights turned on, the warmth returned and reality sunk in. They regarded each other all for a moment in silence to process what they all had just experienced together. Fred moved his arm away from Y/N and shared a blank look with her, for once shocked into silence.

           “Why?” Angelica asked nobody in particular, breaking the tension,

           “Sirius Black.” Y/N answered simply, wincing as she rose.

           “Where are you going?” Fred demanded as he helped her stand. Y/N noted that in moments of extreme distress that Fred Weasley didn’t have the power to make her blush, oddly a relief.

           “I- I have to find Neville.” How could she explain this to them? Neville had experienced truly horrible things in his life, and if they had made her feel that wretched, she needed to find her cousin immediately.

           “Ginny?” George immediately asked. His twin only nodded. They did that often, where an entire conversation can be communicated with a single word and a gesture. The three set out for their respective younger family members and were relieved to find them whole, and together. The expression on Nevilles face made Y/N want to cry, Ginny was pale and watching Harry with deep concern. Y/N felt the sigh of relief from the twins as they saw that both of their younger siblings were relatively unscathed, and turned their attention to Harry Potter, who was getting handed chocolate squares by an older man with premature grey hair and a shabby suit.

           “Ah, family I suppose? Rather crowded in here..” The man politely assumed, and the older Gryffindor’s could just nod.

           “I am Professor R. J. Lupin, and if I were you, I’d return to my carriage- they will not be coming back.” Professor Lupin advised kindly. With a nod from Neville, Ginny, and Ron, the three departed back to their cabin. As they walked a thought struck Y/N that made her snort in humorless laugh. The twins looked at her questioningly.

           “It has to be a record, right? Term hasn’t even begun and something horrible has already happened.” With grim smiles they showed that they had to agree.

[snarkylinda]

I’m very glad you’re talking about spencer being parentified because it feels like people sometimes gloss over it a bit? or maybe I’m just looking in the wrong places. if this isn’t something you do in you’re blog feel free to just. not respond but do you have any more thoughts or. idk headcanons on how that might have affected him as an adult?

Hi anon! To be honest I have no idea what is essentially discussed alot on the fandom other that a tiny fraction of it I expose myself to because 1#I am too tired and old to deal with fandom discourse about my blorbo, and based on my previous experience with fandoms I KNOW that the most popular the character, the bigger the discourse so haha no- 2# I joined in late lmao literally a couple of months ago, so I am super out of the loop just screaming to the void in desperate needs for someone to scream back 🤲🏼 do this kind of asks actually made me so happy agahagaha 🥰🥰 Buckle up bois this is LONG-

Ok now to those that might come across this and ask themselves what the hell does being parentified means, it's a broad term used for the phenomenon of (at best) a child sharing parental responsibilities due to x circumstance, or (at worst) downright having the parent/child dynamic completely swapped, with the child being the caretaker for the parent and household. You don't have to know deep CM lore knowledge to realize the latter is Spencer Reid to a T. Hell, they aren't even subtle about it lmao:

Btw parentification is often mixed in with abandonment and while they share the "child being forced to grown up" too quickly, the former is often distinguished by the fact that, more often that not as is this case, the parent still cares for them but are unable to do so how it should be (tho there are several cases where parentefication is an part of willing neglect, sadly) and added to the fact that they have to look after themselves- they have to look after another.

This is a really complicated, broad topic and I just mentioned this to go full disclaimer and that I don't blame Diana at all for how messed her son ended up since she can't help it- and to make a joke about how Spencer was abandoned and parentified. Also harassed. Guys he wasn't even 18-

Anyways but back to your question, how do I think that affected Spencer growing up....well in everything basically lmao

But I will take on two instances that had stood up to me the most: emotional management and hiding secrets.

The second one is easier: you would catch this man dead before he vents to you over something other than his shitty dad (that I find very funny tbh) and when he does is because he is at his limit and about to fucking cry.

Now don't get me wrong: we all are entiltde to our privacy. These are grown ass adults and they have lives outside of their working circle....

Right?

Haha we have an problem-

So yeah, Spencer kind of actually needs to rely on his co-workers because he has literally nobody else to rely on-

And yet

Oh here is the thing- Spencer is one polite boi but he is also blunt, if he doesn't want someone on his business he says so (look back when Alex discovered him and Maeve) this is literally "I wanted to tell you but I feel like I shouldn't"- this is not season 1 mind you, this is season 11, and yet here he was one of his oldest friends literally grabbing him by the arm and having to tell him it's never a bother- I am the only one fucking crying at this?

Excuses seems to come to Spencer like it's second nature- "sorry a tube on my apparment broke" "Oh I....I tripped!" "There was a lot of traffic so..." "I was watching an movie" and I am not am expert on USA's history or some shit, but Child Protection Services had been a thing since at least the 60s, so I don't think that a 10yo living alone with his mentally ill mother would have flown well- you get the idea.

I think this scene summarizes the whole thing perfectly

Get it? it's irony. (I love how Spencer is about to say something like dismissive "thank you" but because this shit hit too close to home to comfort he just gave a polite smile and walked away. That silence was LOUD) Because Spencer had always had done the former but the latter er.... :D

And it's not only when it concern Diane btw, any problem whatsoever Spencer would rather lock himself up (literally lmao) that sit down and talk about it- it's only when his bs is exposed and he can't refutage (like that little scene after Gideon's death when Rossi asks him if he had been there all night- he points out the fact he is wearing the same cardigan as the day before) that he opens up....or he runs away, which leads me to the second big point that I think shows how much Parentification fucked him up:

Spencer has the emotional maturity of a teenager.

I talk about this literally all the time so I'll be shorter lmao basically Spencer... has an issue- ok he has lot of issues- and that is the way he dislikes direct confrontation, so whenever he is hurt or angry he would rather be dismissive and passive-agressive that talk it out with the person- even going as far as turning away and storming out of the room.

(Here is the part where I put the screencaps but him storming off would be out of focus so lmao er.... Elephant Memory, Memoriam, Proof, a little part in 15x2 and The Gathering)

Now... I do think that a grown-ass man doing this shit is hilarious, like I love Spencer's bratty side so much lmao but it's an clear sign of someone that never learned how to deal with his emotions on a healthy way, someone that 6 out of 7 days of the week had to interiorize everything in and because of that holds on so much....resement, so much repressed anger but also without an stable force on his life to help him manage that- so we are left with an teenager trapped in an adult's body, loss at how to handle shit like he always did.

....And want to know the worst part about an Parentified boy onto adulthood?

That they don't know better.

[rosedarkness24]

Cult Shenanigans

Ghost stories

POV Ash

If you had told Ash 80 years ago that she would have her life turned upside down by a green wort worm, be put up for sacrifice to a God she didn't even know, and then saved by a adorable little lamb. She would've socked you in the face and told you to get back to work. Her old village wasn't big by any means. Smaller than the campsite they are at now. Resources were slim, and food was scarce. Being the only girl out of a litter of 7 kits, she had to learn how to fight to survive. But they were happy, and the future was looking up as they had gotten a big shipment of resources and seeds. Though they weren't expecting that the shipment was a trap.

Now, 80 years later, the last surviving member of the village. She has died, been resurrected, died again, and been resurrected yet again. For what, she honestly didn't care to know. She knew she was going to be resurrected. The Lamb always let them know, though sometimes even the Lamb couldn't keep up with who wasn't here and who was. She'd been watching her fearless leader running around doing tasks about the camp. More than what they should be doing in her honest opinion.

The heat of the day was over and giving way to the cool night breeze. The sun would be setting soon, and soon, their work day would come to an end. Shifting on her stiff legs, she let's her butt plop down onto the ground before just falling backward and groaning in tiredness. A stifled chuckle comes from her side, Keith finally making noise after three hours.

"What's wrong, Ash? Getting tired of worshipping the Lamb finally?" A feminine voice echoing across the statue. Of course, Valefar would jump on the chance to poke some fun at her.

"Not as tired as you are after a night with Thorn~" her retort was quick, gaining a dramatic gasp from the fluffy pink cat at her side.

"We have not done the naughty! We just chat a lot that's all."

"And the giggling with sounds of what is clearly you two making out?" She bumps her tail to the cat's arm.

"It's absolutely normal for couples to make out. You're the weird one without someone. Heck, even Keith has a crush on someone." Thron was not having it. Not that she could blame him, everyone has teased him for somehow managing to swing two former followers of the choas God.

"Yeah! You literally fit the lone wolf vibe like our leader. Go find someone or just ask the leader out." Yeah, that wasn't happening. From the number of times she had been witness to the Lamb's rejections, she could tell they didn't really like anyone more than as their flock.

"How about you shove it up your ass Valefar."

"Bitch! I am saying you need a life outside of devoting your existence to the Lamb and Death." She wasn't wrong. All Ash has done since she's been here was devote herself to the Lamb and The One Who Waits. But it's not like a 24.7 thing, she does hang out with her friends, just not as much as she likes showing her devotion. She wanted so desperately to be at the Lamb's side. To be the once they confide in, but so far, they have been distant.

"Well, if we're done poking fun at each other, let's head to bed. Night fall is upon us soon."

"You're dodging the topic, Ash~" The fuzzy red silk worm moves past the statue over to the group. Closing Ash in their little bubble.

"I have a life outside of devoting myself to our God and Lamb. I just know when to separate work from play." Sitting up off the ground finally, she stretched out her back a bit. She wasn't able to do an actual full stretch while sitting on the ground like Thorn. But in a way, she counts that as a blessing. She knows her limits.

"Plus, isn't this like our job? We power the Lamb to help free our God. What else could anyone wish for?" The looks she got weren't ones she liked.

Keith scratches the back of his head. Despite him being the first follower, he never really seemed to be eager about all this. More than once, has he fought with the Lamb about their decisions. And while she understood his values didn't aline well with the Lamb's. It's those same values that have kept him from his death. Those same values showed him that it was okay to be flawed.

"Ash.... I don't think we should sacrifice our health..... especially our mental health." He nervously taps his fingers together. "And That's kinda worrisome behavior...."

"Oh, okay. So we all know Keith is a skeptical bitch." Valefar claps her hands together and takes a deep breath, shooting a glare at Keith who was trying to speak again. "We aren't saying love is devotion. There's a difference, and while you do have devotion. You clearly also have a thing for the Lamb."

How can she have a thing for the Lamb? She wasn't even sure they even thought she was even a friend. Isn't this a little jumping the gun? She sighs, pitching the bridge of her snout out of frustration.

"While you're might not be wrong about me wanting to know them more, that's it. I don't know about you, but I don't think they even know that we exist outside what we do." She pushes herself up off the ground and brushes herself off. "Plus, looking at this from a more modest perspective, I want to be someone they can trust. And I will do so without pushing them out of their boundaries."

Thorn smiles softly and takes her arm into his. "I agree with this. That's a lot healthier way of getting into a relationship compared to my way."

"Oh? Was me pin-"

"Aaaaaahhh! Valefar nooooo!" Quickly, the pink cat covers his taller lover's mouth.

----

Night had fallen hours ago yet. Sleep didn't come for the four, so to combat this, they decided to sneak off to the temple to tell ghost stories. Like scarring the shit out of each other would fix their insomnia. It mostly fueled Valefar's and Ash's gremlin behavior as Keith was too easily spooked by things, and Thorn was so fluffy when they got to scare him.

Keith had been bad at telling ghost stories compared to the rest. Thorn's while can be scary. It was more a predictable scary. Valefar's genuinely scared them all. For a former follower of chaos, she definitely showed follower of death traits long before all this. Graphically telling of true horror stories about things she has done in the past to those who didn't follow the old faith.

Meanwhile, Ash seemed to be more on the supernatural side of ghost stories. Her turn, having rolled around again, She was growing tired. But the others clearly were still wide awake. It was definitely close to midnight or past midnight now. And none of them are going to want to wake up tomorrow. Taking a deep breath, letting her mind clear so she could tell her story. Her ear flicks, and she opens her eyes, an idea in mind now.

"You ever hear about the Lambs that were all sacrificed? What happened to their souls?" Her voice had drops a bit with the seriousness in it.

"A bit of an insensitive story, Ash." Keith crossed his arms, not amused by this at all. And he wouldn't be wrong if he wasn't the one pointing it out. But so far, there were no objects to her using this topic.

"Oh, shut up, Keith. Valefar has been telling fucking old faith stories this whole time." Thorn jabs back to the fawn. "Continue with your story, Ash. I know that I personally never heard anything about what happened to the lambs' souls before."

A smirk danced on the fox's lips as Thorn allowed her to continue. "In my old village, not too far from this campground actually." A lie, "We had worked throughout the night, and when night falls, the barrier between life and death is lowered by the magic in the air. So it was a great time to craft magic infused items to make a protective barrier around the village. Like how the Lamb has those just outside the campground." She gestures to where the stone wall would be outside the temple.

"That night, me and my brother, Jackson, were assigned this task. We hadn't ever done this before. So we spent the whole day learning each one who what they were supposed to do." She leans back and reaches up into the air.

"We came up with a game plan. I would take care of my half of the village while he did his half. It's quicker that way. And we could possibly get a few more hours of sleep." Grabbing onto the air, a silent gesture to how untrue their thoughts were.

"Everything started out fine. I was able to get halfway through my side in such a short time. Finding the whole process of blessing and crafting a mind-numbing experience. I guess I never really noticed the movement in the treeline till I was just mear inches from it."

The room was silent in her momentary pause. She had captured their attention now. "I would not lie. If a doll could be made creepy, it was then. Because right in front of me was a doll of a lamb. One poorly made, I guess it had been made by a lamb if I were to think about it clearly now. Though at the time, it wasn't something we'd make. So, seeing it hanging from a string on its neck really freaked the hell out of me."

Keith's face contorted to confusion, as well as Thorn's. Both had been expecting her to scare them then. Valefar was more interested now. For her, this wasn't normal behavior of a sane person. This was the behavior of someone who genuinely wanted to get a reaction out of Ash.

"I don't really know how to explain it, so this might sound shitty. But just looking at that doll gave me this more unsettling feeling, like something, or someone was just trying to get my attention. I felt like I needed to quickly finish what I was doing there before anything else were to happen." She leans forward. "After a while, though, you can't ignore the eyes, bareing into you back."

The boys both tense up unsettled by the feeling. Being so invested that they themselves felt the pinpricks of goosebumps crawling around their backs. It felt so real to what Ash was saying, as if they actually did have eyes on their backs. Thorn's fur raised making him much larger that he truly was.

"Time didn't seem to go so fast anymore. Going back to a sail pase, as their was silence in the air around me. Nothing dared to make a sound other than me. Cross, wrap, bless, cross, wrap bless." They all seemed to be sitting on the edge ready for something, anything to happen. Uneasiness filled the air as if they were being circled by a predator.

"Snap... I broke one of the sticks." She hangs on the eerie silence. "It's next to me now. I can feel its breath down the side of my neck. But I dare not to look. Don't look Don't-"

"WhErE's My HeAd~" The deeper, monotone, broken voice of a half awake grumpy Lamb comes just beside Thorn and Keith. Causing both to scream in pure terror and scrabble out of the temple. A very shocked and scared Valefar was dragged out by her hairbairned boyfriend. All this just cracked the fox up.

She heard the Lamb coming out of their hiding spot within the temple before. Where exactly that was, she didn't even care. It was just convenient for her to scare the others to bed. She'd been laughing hysterically at her peers. She looked over to the Lamb in her fit of laughter.

They were smiling rather amused as well from the whole interaction. "Having fun there, my dear?" They stepped into the light, the red glow around their mouth and eyes flipping back into their natural look. Though lately after the first bishop's death, their eyes have been slowly turning more red by the day.

"Very my Lamb. It's about time we headed to bed. Thank you for helping them to bed."

There was silence as the Lamb watched her from where she sat. She was suddenly very glad that she was a black fox, as she could feel embarrassment crawling at her.

"....Rest here for the night. It'll keep them in bed." They move over the the podium. Opening up the side and pulling out a few blankets and bags of wool as pillows. "Plus, you look like you're about to pass out right here and now. So bedrest is in order." They smile at her seemingly to be completely unaware of her embarrassment.

"Thank you, my L-"

"Max.... my name is Maximum, but call me Max."

"Thank you, Max." She smiles softly up to them, glad to see them opening up, even a little bit.

[faithchel]

3, 17, 23, 29, 38 for lyra and joseph in the bunker? :3

oh my god.

III. WHAT WAS THEIR FIRST IMPRESSION OF EACH OTHER?

in the bunker? what was their first impression in the bunker? "oh good she's awake" and "what the fuck why am i alive did this bitch not let me burn with the old world like i SPECIFICALLY requested disrespecting MY judgment of myself. unbelievable"

XVII. HOW WELL DO THEY COMMUNICATE? ARE THEY OPEN WITH THEIR FEELINGS/THOUGHTS OR MORE RESERVED? WHY?

(cw: self harm)

uh. the first year they do not communicate At All because lyra is comatose aside from that time he came out to find her slicing her face open to feel something and he tries to stitch her back up but she just sits there silently smiling creepily at him the whole time and he's like haha. um. maybe she can go back to staring at the wall actually that's fine. after a year the voice comes back and lyra was shuffling through the room in the ratty ass plane coat she hasn't taken off in twelve months but she just takes one look at him and Knows and when joseph comes to again with a migraine factory reset lyra is sitting across from him showered & dressed and smoking with a coffee mug waiting for him so. they understand each other well enough to communicate extremely well even when they're not technically communicating. once lyra has returned to as close to her former self as she ever will a year in they're back to normal. they've always been fairly open (lyra has always been more apt to overshare and less likely to pry if she senses he doesn't want to get into something) but now there is Literally Nothing Else to Do so. not particularly reserved. no.

XXIII. WHAT ARE THE DEFINING CHARACTERISTICS OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP?

the same as it always has been. united by varying degrees of Suffering as God's Chosen. the only ones, potentially, who understood each other in that respect. the only ones left of their family.

XXIX. DESCRIBE THEIR NIGHTTIME ROUTINE.

bold of you to think they know when the fuck night is. try to write about what's happened. try to write about what's going to happen. count the hours until they can confidently make another mark on the wall. discuss any stray detail of their childhood they haven't talked to death yet.

XXXVIII. WHO’S GOT A QUICKER TEMPER?

you're asking me who has a quicker temper. between lyra wrathy mcwrathtits. and joseph. ok glossing over the obvious initial hostility she has towards him not leaving her to die like she wanted, which she can only in good conscience resent fleetingly since she ultimately concludes her desire to die instead of rebuilding with the rest of the flock was a selfish one, regardless of her reasoning, she only actually becomes angry with him once. he is trying, in fact, to be helpful. he tells her that it was not her fault john died. that it was john's sin that made him try to take ill-taken vengeance for her presumed death. she doesn't say a word. she simply looks at him. it is the only time he is ever afraid of her.

[talkintomytv]

Finally checked out the 2019 Dark Phoenix movie! I actually had more fun with this one than I thought I would! I really liked how everyone was using their abilities in action. The music was incredible and It is always a delight to watch Charles and Erik doing whatever.

Is it just me though or was this "Everyone be a Jerk to Charles," The movie? Sure he was super prideful of his accomplishments this round but thats all he was.

Raven, in the previous film, said to the former students "You're not kids anymore your X-Men!" Then in Dark Phoenix, she snaps at Charles saying "You put those kids in danger!" When he wasn't willing to leave one of the humans behind. She said things to him like "We're risking our people to save theirs!" Or "I can't actually remember when you were the one risking something," Which is so wild to me because Charles always said that people with power should protect the people without. He's even used Apocalypse to broadcast that sentiment to the world and The X-Men are literally a team who have chosen to train their abilities specifically so they can be the ones to stand in between the people and the danger. And Raven really can't remember the last time Charles sacrificed anything? There's a major clue sitting right in front of her.

Then everyone started treating Charles like a monster for placing psychic barriers around Jean's memories like he isn't the kind of person who would help her train with her abilities until she was proficient enough and wouldn't be a danger to lower them. Hank had the nerve to say "You messed with the mind of an 8-year-old girl and you still can't see what you did wrong!" She was an 8-year-old girl whose tantrums have the power to atomize people! His method to help her control her powers was solid! Then all that space stuff obliterated the barriers in her mind all at once which was nobody's fault! Like Hank was saying "Just say you were wrong! You can't even say it can you?" for messing with the mind of an 8-year-old but then thinks it totally okay to track down Jean with Erik so they can put her down for good. The hypocrite! She's only 20! Then Charles still apologizes to them for his behavior. Like at most the worst thing he did was lie to Jean about her past when she started asking but she was also doped up on space junk so it's not that weird that Charles would be thinking "Perhaps now is not the time to be talking about this," We don't see Hank apologizing for trying to have Jean killed.

Yeesh! Then don't even get me started on Jean using her telekinetic abilities to make Charles, A paralyzed man, walk like a puppet. And even after that humiliation, and killing of his foster sister, causing enough public displays of destruction to fan the fear of mutants even further he's still like You are loved! Come home! You are not lost there is still hope! We can still fix this!

Then he even gives up the school! The only thing he has left that he loves the most. So everyone can feel safe from him. What do they need protection from? His overwhelming empathy and heightened perception that guides them all to the people who need help the most?

Wild. He's not a perfect being and I know he's had troublesome behaviors throughout comics over the years but Fox's depiction of the character across 12 er so films has only ever been that of a kind man and I love him!

It was a Fun movie! I'll probably watch it again sometime but I am genuinely sad this is where they chose to end it for these iterations of the characters. It seems like Charles never really had any major feats of his own and they only ever beat him up and put him through the ringer just to show how powerful someone else is. I kind of want to write my own story for Charles and give him a cool and big "superhero saves-the-day" kind of moment. Sprinkle in a bit of Magneto Angst because you can't have one without the other. I'm not too well-versed in all the comic lore so I would just be making it all up from scratch. I wonder if anyone would be into it? I mean that's how all comics came to be in the first place, right? I'm assuming no one has read this post this far in so if you're here Wow! You're really amazing! Thank you for listening! I'm just rambling now. Ah well, I'd be into a story like that! And I'm having so much fun thinking about it so that's reason enough to start one!

[sekhisadventures]

A Harsh History Lesson

Hallowfall is what they called it.

A realm below the Ringing Deeps, yet at first glance one would be mistaken for thinking they’d somehow emerged on the surface. A massive cavern with a large healthy ecosystem of plant life connecting to an underground ocean, lit so brightly that one would easily believe it to be sunlight.

It was not though, piercing the roof of the cavern was a gigantic crystalline object that the locals called Beledar, and those locals were a big surprise to the members of Avalon.

The arathi, they called themselves, the citizens of the Arathi Empire who had been sent on a quest by their emperor who had a vision of a brilliant golden light which they believed was indeed Beledar. At some time after the end of the Troll Wars a group of humans and elves departed from the Eastern Kingdoms across the great sea, creating a new home on a distant undiscovered landmass. This became their Arathi Empire, and their former home was now known to them as Old Arathor.

When travelling in search of the emperor’s vision they were caught in a horrible storm which threatened to scuttle their fleet of airships, but before it could they were enveloped in a golden glow and transported deep underground to the safety of the cave, where they had lived ever since.

It was a hard life, they shared a border with the nerubians down further still in the caves, and they were cut off from their empire. Their appearance in the caves did not undo the damage the storm had done to their vessels, and many still crashed into subterranean sea or the cavern’s walls, claiming many lives. When the dust settled, they were where their emperor had sent them… but they were also trapped with no way to get supplies or reinforcements. They had brought several magi, only one apprentice had survived… so portals were out of the question.

Still, the arathi were survivors, and they endured… but they never stopped wondering what became of their ancestral homeland of Old Arathor, and when outsiders arrived some realized they could finally get their answers. They had expected to hear tales of how the original Empire of Arathor endured even to this day, continuing the glory of their Emperor’s ancestor.

However…

An Inn in a village in Hallowfall

Nelen Fullmoon stood on the stage chuckling nervously and tapping his fingers together. “Er… I mean… you did ask…” he muttered to the audience, then he ducked and conjured an arcane shield around his body as a bottle smashed into the wall behind him.

Before him was a room full of furious arathi. Some were shouting that he was a liar, others were insisting he was a spy sent by the nerubians to sow discord, a few were so livid they just wanted to hit him. He ducked another bottle as a third smashed against his shield. “Really now! I swear to you I am not lying! Its been a rather difficult forty years for everyone is all I’m saying!” he called out to the arathi, fighting back the urge to transform. The crowd was already calling out to kick his teeth in, becoming a literal monster right in front of them would just give them the excuse and even then he had no desire to fight his way out. That would risk some rather severe attention from the local soldiers.

As the shouting from the angry bar patrons continued three figures ran into the bar. Sekhi had been having a snack in the inn when she realized how angry everyone’s songs were getting. She knew she couldn’t risk starting a riot, so she ran out of the inn to find the other two of their allies who had come with them. Dareley had split up from the rest of them after they'd arrived, wanting to learn more about the Holy Flame that the arathi worshipped.

Laura Brightflame stared at the scene, her head snapping back and forth as she took in the furious crowd and Nelen anxiously glancing between them and the trio as he tried to work out an exit. “Those arathi are blind with rage…” whispered Laura, “If we do not de-escalate them somehow then all it will take is one of them losing control for the rest to follow suit.”

Sekhi nodded, “Yeah!” she hissed, “This is why I came ta get ya! I can’t do anythin’ ta stop all of ‘em at once!”

Laura gritted her teeth in worry, looking again, “Sekhi, neither can I! I was able to stop time for an entire group of entities once because I had Chromie’s power to draw upon… but I am not certain I can do that again without consequences!”

Samantha looked around the bar, her mind going back to all the bar fights she’d seen in her years as a rogue, then she snapped her fingers. “Okay, I’ve got a crazy idea… Sekhi, do you have your fiddle?” she asked.

Sekhi cocked her head, “Yippin’ what?” she asked.

Back on-stage Nelen was sweating, “L-look! Its been a really hard time for everyone alright? Why even the elven lands of Quel’thalas have suffered! They were all but wiped out by Arthas Menethil and his undead army!” he began… then trailed off as the crowd glared at him.

“Quel’thalas got sacked?! My ancestors are from the elflands! Are you sayin’ they’re all dead?!” shouted one of the people in the crowd.

“Impossible! The magic of the High Elves is what won the Troll War for us and helped us found our own land! Its unbeatable! LIAR!” snarled another.

Nelen glanced around the room and remembered, far too late, why the arathi people’s ears had points to them. “Uh oh…” he whined under his breath.

Several in the crowd began to rise… only for a sudden squeak of a fiddle to cut across the room drawing everyone’s attention.

Sam was lounging against one of the support pillars for the bar with a smirk on her face as Sekhi, fiddle in hand, began playing out a tune akin to what might be called ‘lounge music.’

“My name is Sam, that’s Samantha to you~ I’m the greatest thief Azeroth ever knew~” crooned Sam, beginning to sing in time with Sekhi’s music.

Nelen blinked in confusion as the bar patrons looked between themselves, stunned by the sudden performance. An assault of blade and spell would have been akin to a lit match on gunpowder. An unexpected song? They’d have been less shocked if a pink elekk had walked into the inn.

“I’ve stolen treasures from Stranglethorn to Nazmir~ I got me more prizes than ol’ Brann Bronzebeard~” she sang, doing a rather graceful twirl as Sekhi worked the strings in time.

“They only ever caught me once or twice~ but when they try to grab me, I don’t play nice~” she sang, “I never pout, I never cry~” she continued as her hand slipped to her belt, “I just reach into my pouch and say…” she grinned, her arm snapping up as it held a small compact sphere, “SMOKE IN YOUR EYE!” and with that she slammed the smoke bomb down hard into the middle of the crowd.

There was a loud WHUMF and thick white clouds of smoke erupted throughout the bar, billowing out the door and every open window as cries of alarm went up from outside! “GRAB NELEN AND GO GO GO NOW NOW NOW!” shouted Samantha, and the magus yelled in surprise as a pair of scaled hands grabbed him. A moment later the cloud of smoke burst apart as Sam raced out into the light of Beledar’s glow, Sekhi right on her heels in her spirit vulpin form, and Laurelgosa once more in her dracthyr form carrying a very perplexed wizard.

Laurelgosa risked a glance at her as they made a beeline for the edge of town, intending on putting as much distance between that inn and themselves as they could. “THAT was your plan?!” she asked.

Sam grinned at her, “I have ALWAYS wanted to try that!” she laughed, pumping her fist excitedly, “C’mon, admit it, I’ve got a good singing voice.”

Sekhi giggled, “I mean, yah, but… I think they’re gonna be really yippin’ mad at us now…” she risked a glance back, but they were almost out of the town and the crowd coming out of the bar was still half blind with smoke and trying not to cough up their breakfast.

As they got to the town limits Laurelgosa let Nelen down and changed back into her visage form as they jogged down the path out of the city. “What exactly happened back there Nelen?” she asked him rather pointedly.

Nelen winced, “Well, one of the arathi there asked me if I was a mage and when I said yes they asked if I knew what had become of their ancestral homeland after they left to found the new Arathi Empire.” he replied, “I’ve always been a bit of a history buff so… I… told them?” he shrugged.

Sekhi cocked her head in confusion, but she’d never been to Arathi Highlands before, and Laura had been in stasis through the entirety of that part of history. Samantha, however, had been the child of a magister and had grown up during the first and second wars. With her late father being one of those called upon to defend Quel’thalas she had overheard a lot of news from the warfronts back then. She could guess what had made them so angry. “… Nelen, how much did you tell them?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Nelen chuckled nervously, “I might’ve mentioned how the original Kingdom of Arathi, what they call Old Arator, got all but wiped out by Orgrim Doomhammer and the First Horde during the Second War… bit of a shock to them that there was a First War too.” he admitted.

Samantha made an ‘oof’ sound and nodded, “Yeah I could see that setting them off…” she began.

Nelen glanced away a bit sheepishly, “I might have also mentioned how after the city got rebuilt that it was sacked by the Knights of the Ebon Blade who reanimated Thorias Trollbane as a Death Knight…”

Laura slapped her forehead, “Nelen! We just helped them drive back the korbyss! They use necromancy!” she pointed out.

Nelen chuckled awkwardly, “I mean if you get me going on history its hard for me to stop…” he admitted. When Nelen got on to a topic he was passionate about it could be very hard to convince him to even take a break. He had waxed on the curse of flesh, Yogg-sauron, and the like for over an hour during the party back on the Glittering Prize until Galdia threatened to beat him unconscious with an empty bottle if he didn’t shut up.

“So that’s all?” asked Sam, though she had a hunch…

Nelen shrugged, “I might have told them how the Arathi Highlands became a war zone during the Blood War and were left totally devastated by both sides.” he admitted.

Sam cringed, “Oh boy… anything else?” she asked meaningfully as the town shrank in the distance behind them.

“… I told them about the pirates.” he mentioned, waving his hand dismissively.

Sam cocked her head as she thought on that one, “… pirates… wait, that whole Plunderstorm mess? Where a bunch of pirates had that huge brawl in Arathi?!”

Nelen shrugged, “I mean, I told them we never worked out WHY it happened… or how… Arathi is landlocked after all! Even Admiral Proudmoore couldn’t say how that many pirates got there to begin with!” he sighed, “… after that was when people started screaming ‘liar’ at me…”

Laura smirked a bit as they slowed to a walking pace now that they were safely out of harm’s reach. “Nelen, I feel I must congratulate you. This may be the first time any of us will have to avoid a bar for reasons that did NOT involve Galdia.”

Nelen sighed, “Probably for the best. Galdia’s solution would be to find the biggest guy in there and punch his face inside-out…”

Galdia had, in fact, refused to join them point blank upon finding out that the arathi were fervent and devout followers of a faith based on Beledar and it’s ‘Light.’ One description of them was enough to bring back some really bad memories of Yrel and the Lightbound.

Rather, she HAD wanted to come down, draw her sword, and hand out disembowelments on general principal, but Nitika had convinced her to focus on helping protect Dornogal instead incase the nerubians tried to attack while they and the other adventurers were working their way through the caves towards them. It wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility that they would attempt such a tactic while the majority of the survivors of Dalaran’s Fall were underground after all.

It would, as it turned out, have an unexpected benefit for the mag’har woman.

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