#make. I am so sorry for whoever opens the read more. This is hilarious

[dontbotherwiththepronunciation]

I really wish we could talk about Jeyne bullying Arya without people going completely feral, because as someone who was bullied (tragicomically involving the nickname "horseface" and even neighing when I walked by), and who can't even watch high school comedies like mean girls without wanting to die, I feel like it's so reductive to deny any possibility of conflict between the Arya-Jeyne-Sansa dynamic that is more than "mean girls vs pretty-but-doesn't-know-it-yet-girl situation" or "violent paranoid schizophrenic with a persecution complex feels victimised by girls who actually do their schoolwork" while still acknowledging Jeyne as a bully and Arya as a victim.

Jeyne is such a weird character to me, because I never feel this attached to the archetype she embodies.

And still, her dynamic with the two Stark sisters is interesting and the confusion in fandom is COMPLETELY fascinating and borderline triggering to witness, because it reminds me a lot to how a class of high schoolers reacts to *gasps, looks around to see no one is listening and whispers* bullying *lightning and thunder strike on the background to signify the gravity of such a word*.

Person A: What? What are you talking about?! She is exaggerating everything! Sansa never called her that! It was only Jeyne and I bet she only did it once! Person B: Oh, no it was just Jeyne who did it. Sansa told her to stop, but she just kept at it because she is less educated. Person C: No, Jeyne was actually just doing it to impress Sansa. Sansa is the real villain here. DontbotherwiththepronunciationIn2013: I don't think "bullying" is the right term. It's not that bad, Arya should get over it. It was just hurtful teasing.

Now I realise that "hurtful teasing" is in fact bullying.

So, if going by canon:

I think Jeyne came up with the name "Horseface".

I think Jeyne used to neigh at Arya when she was passing.

I think Sansa probably used that name at some point in her life or maybe multiple times.

I think that silence bestows. I think inaction can be encouraging more action. I think passiveness can be as harming as aggressiveness.

I do NOT however think that neither Jeyne nor Sansa are inherently despicable evil people for bullying Arya. I think they are still children. I think, like in most situations involving bullying and children, it's the adults who are at fault for not putting a stop to it, and sometimes even encouraging it.

Before starting to rant, I want to say:

I don't consider myself an expert on any of these characters!!!!!

So if I'm saying something disproportionately wrong in the following, I am open to being corrected.

With that said, I think this is a network of issues, most of them involving socioeconomic classes and period-compliant misogyny. I think it might look like this:

I know that focussing on this is a little pointless because the three main actors involved in this have been violently removed from the situation, (and most of the remaining cast is dead) but at the same time their possible future reunion will be even more violent and they probably won't even have time to cope.

And I can't sleep and I feel horrible and I already drew that dumb mind-map on my phone.

So, I'm starting with the least tangled component in this thing.

Ⅰ. The passive perpetrator, Blind Beth Cassel

To her sister and sister's friends and all the rest, she had just been Arya Horseface. - The Blind Girl, ADWD

I have loved the "Blind Beth" concept since I first read it.

It's so interesting to me how the most Beth interested part of fandom is the Theon corner, yet in the entire Arya-Sansa narrative she barely appears and rarely in meta. The closest I've come to find analysis on Beth & Sansa was in this gorgeous collage highlighting them as victims of violence from different sources in ACOK, but asides from that, there isn't much there. And at least with Sansa I can understand it. Sansa doesn't think of Beth once in the entire books. Arya on the other hand names one of her many identities after Beth and I think the characteristic chosen to describe that persona was a very smart and painful reminder from GRRM.

Arya thinks of Beth Cassel in two occasions. Once in AGOT, when we first meet them,

She studied her own work again, looking for some way to salvage it, then sighed and put down the needle. She looked glumly at her sister. Sansa was chatting away happily as she worked. Beth Cassel, Ser Rodrik's little girl, was sitting by her feet, listening to every word she said, and Jeyne Poole was leaning over to whisper something in her ear. "What are you talking about?" Arya asked suddenly. Jeyne gave her a startled look, then giggled. Sansa looked abashed. Beth blushed. No one answered. "Tell me," Arya said. "Joffrey likes your sister," Jeyne whispered, proud as if she had something to do with it. She was the daughter of Winterfell's steward and Sansa's dearest friend. "He told her she was very beautiful." "He's going to marry her," little Beth said dreamily, hugging herself. "Then Sansa will be queen of all the realm." Sansa had the grace to blush. She blushed prettily. She did everything prettily, Arya thought with dull resentment. "Beth, you shouldn't make up stories," Sansa corrected the younger girl, gently stroking her hair to take the harshness out of her words. - Arya I, AGOT

AND once in Braavos, when she is thinking of her life a Winterfell,

"Beth." She had known a Beth once, back at Winterfell when she was Arya Stark. Maybe that was why she'd picked the name. Or maybe it was just because it went so well with blind. - The Blind Girl, ADWD

Our first assumption as readers to the name "Beth" going so well with "blind" is because it is an alliteration. Who doesn't love alliterations? Tell me you don't love Sir Gawain and the Green Knight with all it's stylistic devices! They are lovely. And perhaps "Blind Beth" is only one of GRRM's alliterations acknowledged by a character.

Or perhaps "Blind" and "Beth" also go so well with each other, because apparently, and basing this from Arya's POV (the only one involving Sansa, Jeyne & Beth all together), Beth is a passive perpetrator. The typical class mate who pretends not to see the bullying and the way it affects the victim. The one who is decent or even kind when alone, but alienating when they are accompanied by a group.

I have seen certain takes claiming that Arya's POV in AGOT isn't a reliable source when involving the dynamic between her and the other girls in Winterfell.

That is possible, but she is our only source. As said, Sansa doesn't ever think of Beth, so if I want to examine her it has to be through Arya's eyes.

I would like to take the scene in AGOT once again and look at it more closely this time.

She studied her own work again, looking for some way to salvage it, then sighed and put down the needle. She looked glumly at her sister. Sansa was chatting away happily as she worked. Beth Cassel, Ser Rodrik's little girl, was sitting by her feet, listening to every word she said, and Jeyne Poole was leaning over to whisper something in her ear.

The object composition is so carefully placed that I find it difficult to believe it is not supposed to have a meaning. Jeyne whispers into Sansa's ear, an image I often associate with a political advisor plotting or scheming with the ruler they serve (which she will remind me of again in future AGOT chapters). Beth has a lower position in the hierarchy She is sitting at Sansa's feet, completely enthralled to whatever it is Sansa says. She probably seeks her approval.

(There is this very sweet art depicting the image of Sansa, Beth and Jeyne and even if I kind of feel guilty for reading the scene as them alienating another girl and still enjoying the art, I still want to share it because it's very cute.)

"What are you talking about?" Arya asked suddenly. Jeyne gave her a startled look, then giggled. Sansa looked abashed. Beth blushed. No one answered.

Jeyne's reaction is alienating. She giggles and denies Arya the knowledge behind that sudden laughter. It always reminded me a little of how Theon's smiles are often described contemptuously, probably because people tend to think he is actually laughing/smiling at them. They think he is mocking them. I don't think this is something completely involuntarily. I think Jeyne knows that giggling when Arya is asking to be integrated to the group is painful to her. Sansa is described to look "abashed" which I take as uncomfortable. I thinks she is aware this is mean spirited. She still doesn't do anything, but she is at least "abashed". Beth seems to follow this reaction but her description is only physical, not necessarily tied to an explicit emotion. Still, they collectively refuse to include Arya into the conversation.

"Tell me," Arya said. "Joffrey likes your sister," Jeyne whispered, proud as if she had something to do with it. She was the daughter of Winterfell's steward and Sansa's dearest friend. "He told her she was very beautiful." "He's going to marry her," little Beth said dreamily, hugging herself. "Then Sansa will be queen of all the realm."

Arya has to insist to be accepted as part of the group. It is not Sansa who acts as the typical "Queen Bee" and grants her that privilege, but Jeyne. Jeyne is the one who speaks in a slightly haughty manner. Only after getting Jeyne's implicit permission does Beth make a comment. She is not described with any type of rancour by Arya.

Sansa had the grace to blush. She blushed prettily. She did everything prettily, Arya thought with dull resentment. "Beth, you shouldn't make up stories," Sansa corrected the younger girl, gently stroking her hair to take the harshness out of her words.

This is an interesting passage to me, but not because of Beth as a passive perpetrator, but because this is the first time I can think of where we are confronted with another monster that will play a role in here, the green-eyed beast;

Ⅱ. Envy

Not it's more mild mannered cousin jealousy that gets spoken of more in fandom, but envy!

Jealousy is usually seen as a less malevolent feeling, but the term is often used when actually referring to envy, so I will clarify that jealousy could be defined as a feeling of defensiveness and protectiveness over what you think to be yours and feel threatened or fearful of possibly losing it.

Envy is not protective or defensive, its offensive. It is a feeling of resentment over what another person or group has - be it a a material possession, a skill, or an emotional bond - and you feel you lack.

And oh boy, there is a lot of envy oozing from that medieval class room, some it more legitimate than other, but all felt.

Before continuing I want to clarify that Arya’s very real pain and low self-esteem, and the cruel ways in which Sansa sometimes treats her during AGOT shouldn't be dismissed as "deserved" or "exaggerated" because of her envy.

Ⅱ. Ⅰ. ARYA'S ENVY

Probably the easiest to locate.

In the formerly mentioned passage we see Arya being envious of Sansa. I would argue it's not up to interpretation since "with dull resentment" makes it very clear to me, but there is also tenderness. I don't think Arya hates Sansa, or at least not in that moment.

Something curious about envy is that it's not an entertaining sin. It's damaging not only to those you envy, but perhaps mostly to yourself. It is self-poisoning. And I think that during that scene Arya, isn't manifesting her envy. She very rarely verbalises it, instead she swallows her own anger and keeps it inside her. I couldn't find any passages where envy is the driving force on the few occasions Arya hurts Sansa. The closest I came to that is:

Arya wanted to scream. It was just like Sansa to go and attract the septa's attention. "Here," she said, surrendering up her work. - Arya I, AGOT

But even then, her envy only hurts herself.

Arya longs to be like Sansa. She wants to be considered as pretty as Sansa, she wants to be as skilled as her sister and to feel accepted by the other girls in the group.

It wasn't fair. Sansa had everything. Sansa was two years older; maybe by the time Arya had been born, there had been nothing left. Often it felt that way. Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells. Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother's fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys. Arya took after their lord father. Her hair was a lusterless brown, and her face was long and solemn. Jeyne used to call her Arya Horseface, and neigh whenever she came near. It hurt that the one thing Arya could do better than her sister was ride a horse. Well, that and manage a household. Sansa had never had much of a head for figures. If she did marry Prince Joff, Arya hoped for his sake that he had a good steward. - Arya I, AGOT

I find it curious how Arya starts off listing skills, yet the thing that pains her the most is related to her appearance.

What starts as painful envy becomes a self deprecating chuckle and later maybe even a half-optimistic outlook on her own strength. Arya recognises that she is not worthless or fully inferior to her sister. She is able to find qualities in herself and they way she does is endearing. She internally even makes fun of Sansa for not being as good as she is in this one little thing.

Sadly she is still aware of how in the eyes of most, Sansa is the one deemed worthy of admiration and emulation, while the best Arya can get is pity.

The septa examined the fabric. "Arya, Arya, Arya," she said. "This will not do. This will not do at all." Everyone was looking at her. It was too much. Sansa was too well bred to smile at her sister's disgrace, but Jeyne was smirking on her behalf. Even Princess Myrcella looked sorry for her. Arya felt tears filling her eyes. She pushed herself out of her chair and bolted for the door. - Arya I, AGOT

And Arya's envy doesn't come from simply being Arya, it comes from Arya not being seen as a valuable person by Westerosi society and, in my opinion, most importantly, by her mother.

I refer to the parent-child relationships on the whiteboard as "perceived", not because I deem them false or delusional, but because I've seen a lot of debate going around this topic and whether the favouritism is true or not and I don't know what to believe and honestly I don't care too much about it.

At this part of the conflict we don't really need to know if the Ned-Arya and Cat-Sansa favouritism is true or not. We just need to know that both girls feel some insecurity over their bond with their parents and feel envy.

Personally, I think both Stark parents love all their children deeply, it's just that love sometimes isn't perceived the way we want it to.

Both of her parents had conventional expectations for Arya, but it seems to me that Catelyn was the one who upheld these expectations while Ned acted more permissive. Eddard still intends for her to lead a life that is typical to that of a Lady,

"[...] And it is past time that Arya learned the ways of a southron court. In a few years she will be of an age to marry too." - Catelyn II, AGOT

But it's not Eddard who Arya is terrified of:

It was worse than Jon had thought. It wasn't Septa Mordane waiting in her room. It was Septa Mordane and her mother. - Arya I, AGOT

And it's not Eddard whom Arya often fears being rejected by or disappointing.

Her father tells Arya she remembers him of Lyanna, a woman who is not only remembered as beautiful but also as loved and desired, and also shared some of her interests, such as swordsmanship.

Her mother though..

"Sansa's work is as pretty as she is," Septa Mordane told their lady mother once. "She has such fine, delicate hands." When Lady Catelyn had asked about Arya, the septa had sniffed. "Arya has the hands of a blacksmith." - Arya I, AGOT

Sansa would shine in the south, Catelyn thought to herself, and the gods knew that Arya needed refinement. - Catelyn II, AGOT

“…my hair’s messy and my nails are dirty and my feet are all hard.” Robb wouldn’t care about that, probably, but her mother would. Lady Catelyn always wanted her to be like Sansa, to sing and dance and sew and mind her courtesies. Just thinking of it made Arya try to comb her hair with her fingers, but it was all tangles and mats, and all she did was tear some out.“ - Arya VII, ASOS

Her mother used to say she could be pretty if she would just wash and brush her hair and take more care with her dress, the way her sister did. - The Blind girl, ADWD

And a recurring pattern in those lines is a comparison to Sansa, the sister who is not constantly failing at fulfilling society's expectations on her. The sister who she wishes she could emulate while also staying true to the person she is. The sister who seems to act as a passive perpetrator of Jeyne's bullying and sometimes acts cruel herself.

Ⅱ. Ⅱ. SANSA'S ENVY AND EMBARASSEMENT

When I first read AGOT, I didn't like any of the Stark sisters. I actually think the only Stark I liked back then was Bran. I was about as old as they were, had my own issues with internalised misogyny and thought both of them were a little annoying. My views on both of them during AGOT have changed A LOT in the past ten years and while I like who they become as the books move n, much more than I like who they were at the beginning, I've become very fond of their AGOT selves. And I think they are children! Children make mistakes! Children are shallow and impulsive and hedonistic.

So, I don't think Arya is the only person here who has a few negatives feelings about her sister.

More than envy I think Sansa feels second-hand embarrassment by Arya's behaviour and wishes she wouldn't be associated with her, and this is something Arya is aware of.

She was barefoot and dirty, her hair tangled from the long run through the castle, clad in a jerkin ripped by cat claws and brown roughspun pants hacked off above her scabby knees. You don't wear skirts and silks when you're catching cats. Quickly she lowered her head and dropped to one knee. Maybe they wouldn't recognize her. If they did, she would never hear the end of it. Septa Mordane would be mortified, and Sansa would never speak to her again from the shame. - Arya III, AGOT

Arya looked down at her ragged clothes and bare feet, all cracked and callused. She saw the dirt under her nails, the scabs on her elbows, the scratches on her hands. Septa Mordane wouldn't even know me, I bet. Sansa might, but she'd pretend not to. - Arya V, ACOK

And we also see Sansa wanting to deny association between her and her sister multiple times during AGOT:

Why couldn't Arya be sweet and delicate and kind, like Princess Myrcella? She would have liked a sister like that. - Sansa I, AGOT

"Send Arya away, she started it, Father, I swear it. I'll be good, you'll see, just let me stay and I promise to be as fine and noble and courteous as the queen." - Sansa III, AGOT

"[...]I have only to remember how your sister set her wolf on my son." "I'm not like Arya," Sansa blurted. "She has the traitor's blood, not me. I'm good, ask Septa Mordane, she'll tell you, I only want to be Joffrey's loyal and loving wife." - Sansa IV, AGOT

Envy is something less present in Sansa's case, but I dare to think there is still a little of it lingering in her feelings. As if we had a cross involving affections and what is perceived by each Stark sister as a special relationship or favouritism between their fraternal foe and a respective parent.

One day she came back grinning her horsey grin, her hair all tangled and her clothes covered in mud, clutching a raggedy bunch of purple and green flowers for Father.  - Sansa II, AGOT

There is envy perhaps not of the relationship itself, but of the liberation that comes with it, but I don't even think this is actually Eddard's fault, I think this has more to do with the overall social conditioning of girlhood in Westeros and with another adult.

Ⅱ. Ⅲ. SEPTA MORDANE AND THE SOCIAL CONDITIONING

Septa Mordane sees Sansa as an exemplary student and she has reasons to do so. Sansa is a good and well mannered girls who fits into the model Septa Mordane is trying to shape the girls into. She performs her assigned gender roles with grace and is willingly doing so. Sansa enjoys being a Lady, it makes her feel worthy and it allows her to daydream and enjoy romantic hobbies like poetry or singing.

Arya doesn't. Partially because she rejects that model, partially because she id rejected by that model. I don't know what came first.

And yet, Sansa also sometimes seems to feel encaged by that model and by the Septa's teachings. And often, when Sansa does something that contradicts this model of conduct that she usually likes following, her thoughts go to Arya. She compares herself or gets compared to Arya, not necessarily in a pejorative manner, but almost seeing her sister as a little devil on her shoulder.

The kitchen yielded no lemon cakes, but they did find half of a cold strawberry pie, and that was almost as good. They ate it on the tower steps, giggling and gossiping and sharing secrets, and Sansa went to bed that night feeling almost as wicked as Arya. - Sansa III, AGOT

Sansa sighed. "They rode with Lord Beric, to behead Ser Gregor Clegane." She turned to Septa Mordane, who was eating porridge with a wooden spoon. "Septa, will Lord Beric spike Ser Gregor's head on his own gate or bring it back here for the king?" She and Jeyne Poole had been arguing over that last night. The septa was horror-struck. "A lady does not discuss such things over her porridge. Where are your courtesies, Sansa? I swear, of late you've been near as bad as your sister." - Sansa III, AGOT

"It was for love," Sansa said in a rush. "Father wouldn't even give me leave to say farewell." She was the good girl, the obedient girl, but she had felt as wicked as Arya that morning, sneaking away from Septa Mordane, defying her lord father. - Sansa IV, AGOT

And who is usually disapproving of Arya's ways and telling her she puts them to shame?

Septa Mordane called after her. "Arya, come back here! Don't you take another step! Your lady mother will hear of this. In front of our royal princess too! You'll shame us all!" - Arya I, AGOT

And knowing how much Sansa cares about the way she is perceived by others, I can imagine Sansa thinking in frustration that it's unfair she gets reprimanded for these type of things when Arya does them all the time without realising that Arya suffers constantly because if it. It's just that they are less common in Sansa, so people are more surprised and "hopeful" of rectifying them. Septa Mordane almost looks at Arya as a lost cause. When she nags at Sansa it's because she wants to avoid Sansa becoming another lost cause.

And it's not that Septa Mordane is an evil witch trying to make Arya's life impossible. As much as I dislike Eddard Stark, I agree with him. This woman is just doing the job he and Cat tasked her to do. It's that she is part of an institution where girls like Arya aren't as valued as girls like Sansa.

Personally, I think she is one of the people carrying the most responsibility over Arya's bullying. I wouldn't say she participates in it, but she enables it.

During AGOT Arya describes Septa Mordane in an unflattering way and it is one of the few occasions where I don't think I should fully trust her POV, because yes, this woman is antagonistic to Arya, but I don't think she hates her.

"Septa Mordane is beside herself with fear. She's in the sept praying for your safe return." - Arya III, AGOT

I think, in her own flawed way, she is trying to "help" Arya adapt into conventional views of gender and Arya is having none of that (good for her!).

"Just where do you think you are going, Arya?" the septa demanded. Arya glared at her. "I have to go shoe a horse," she said sweetly, taking a brief satisfaction in the shock on the septa's face. Then she whirled and made her exit, running down the steps as fast as her feet would take her. - Arya I, AGOT

"Pray, where do you think you are going, young lady?" Septa Mordane asked. "I'm not hungry." Arya found it an effort to remember her courtesies. "May I be excused, please?" she recited stiffly. "You may not," the septa said. "You have scarcely touched your food. You will sit down and clean your plate." "You clean it!" Before anyone could stop her, Arya bolted for the door as the men laughed and Septa Mordane called loudly after her, her voice rising higher and higher. - Arya II, AGOT

Arya spun around, with Needle in her hand. "You better not come in here!" she warned. She slashed at the air savagely. "The Hand will hear of this!" Septa Mordane raged. "I don't care," Arya screamed. "Go away." - Arya II, AGOT

Poor woman is so frustrated with her job she one day passes out drunk on the table.

And I think Sansa suffers under her too, not because she dislikes the customs and views on femininity - she often recalls on Septa Mordane's teachings in moments of emotional need (Lady's armour is courtesy, find the beauty in every man) - but I think that as readers we can see how those are harming for her too.

"I've never seen an aurochs," Sansa said, feeding a piece of bacon to Lady under the table. The direwolf took it from her hand, as delicate as a queen. Septa Mordane sniffed in disapproval. "A noble lady does not feed dogs at her table," she said, breaking off another piece of comb and letting the honey drip down onto her bread. - Sansa II, AGOT

Sansa cried as Septa Mordane marched them down the steps. They were going to take it all away; the tournaments and the court and her prince, everything, they were going to send her back to the bleak grey walls of Winterfell and lock her up forever. Her life was over before it had begun. "Stop that weeping, child," Septa Mordane said sternly. "I am certain your lord father knows what is best for you." - Sansa III, AGOT

That one last passage drives me wild when it comes to Jeyne Poole and you'll see why later.

So basically, Septa Mordane antagonises Arya for her failings as her student. The class (Beth, Sansa & Jeyne) emulates the teacher's disapproval and distaste, Sansa feels embarrassed by association and Jeyne Poole takes advantage of the situation and targets Arya.

And now I can finally get to the true object of my obsession here, beloved middle school mean girl:

Ⅲ. Jeyne Poole and her many mixed emotions

As said, I feel so weird about my love for this girl. People call Theon a "poor little meow meow" but when I first read these books I didn't see him as an anti-hero/minor-villain during ACOK, but more of my avenging hero. I had tears of rage when he was threatening to hang Beth but I was also weirdly cheering for him. Jeyne on the other hand, she is my poor little meow meow! She is my problematic fave! And she makes me cry like crazy and I hope she has the happiest ending in these goddamn books.

I probably feel more attached to her than I feel to Arya and Sansa. I don't understand this. Anyway, I have two possible assumptions for why Jeyne is always antagonising Arya. And yes, she IS ANTAGONISING Arya, even when Arya is no longer there.

"What are you talking about?" Arya asked suddenly. Jeyne gave her a startled look, then giggled. Sansa looked abashed. Beth blushed. No one answered. - Arya I, AGOT

Sansa was too well bred to smile at her sister's disgrace, but Jeyne was smirking on her behalf. - Arya I, AGOT

Jeyne used to call her Arya Horseface, and neigh whenever she came near. - Arya I, AGOT

Jeyne Poole had told Arya that he'd cut him up in so many pieces that they'd given him back to the butcher in a bag, and at first the poor man had thought it was a pig they'd slaughtered.  - Arya II, AGOT

It was all her fault, everything bad that had happened. Sansa said so, and Jeyne too. - Arya II, AGOT

"I saw your sister this afternoon," Jeyne blurted out, as if she'd been reading Sansa's thoughts. "She was walking through the stables on her hands. Why would she do a thing like that?" - Sansa III, AGOT

"I will be a better wife than the real Arya could have been, he'll see." - The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

"Arya Underfoot. Your sister used to call you Arya Horseface." "It was me made up that name. Her face was long and horsey. Mine isn't. I was pretty." - The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

You know, this entire thing started because I wanted to make a stupid joke but then I got more emotional and invested into this as I wrote, and now we are here and I don't even remember the actual joke I wanted to make so I have to improvise with the thing above.

I don't believe this is true either. There are absolutely no canon indications for Jeyne to have had been dealing with comphet and bullying Arya because of a crush (there is a rather fun fanfic though!) (and there is another but with angstier and subtler vibes and it's Theyne + Jeynsa). Although, in my opinion, there are a few other things; like class envy and projection!

Ⅲ. Ⅰ. JEYNE POOLE'S CLASS ENVY

I think hers is the most obvious case of envy, but unlike the envy between the Stark sisters it doesn't come from a place of emotional insecurity, but of socio-economical discomfort.

That is why I included "Beric Dondarrion" [insert highborn lord/knight] in that mind map.

Jeyne isn't envious of Arya's relationship with Ned Stark and much less of her skills. Jeyne is envious, and perhaps even particularly resentful, of the fact that Arya is offered AND rejects what Jeyne wishes but will always stay out of her reach.

I have joked about Jeyne's crush on Beric (and her possible implied crushes on Robb & Theon) in the past but I don't think I ever mentioned the class envy when doing so.

When [Jeyne] saw young Lord Beric Dondarrion, with his hair like red gold and his black shield slashed by lightning, she pronounced herself willing to marry him on the instant. - Sansa II, AGOT

She had seen Jeyne Poole giving [Robb] moist-eyed glances, and some of the serving girls, even ones as old as eighteen… - Catelyn XI, AGOT

"Help me." [Jeyne] clutched at [Theon]. "Please. I used to watch you in the yard, playing with your swords. You were so handsome." - The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

All the men she seems to at some point in her life experience some form of attraction for, even if it is that of a child, it's a puppy crush, just infatuation, are people she would never have a chance with. Two (theoretically) future lord paramounts and a marcher lord. All of them unachievable to a steward's daughter. And with that in consideration, let's look at this:

Arya cocked her head to one side. "Can I be a king's councillor and build castles and become the High Septon?" "You," Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, "will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon." Arya screwed up her face. "No," she said, "that's Sansa." She folded up her right leg and resumed her balancing. Ned sighed and left her there. - Eddard V, AGOT

And I wonder how frustrating that must feel to Jeyne. To see someone who she deems as inferior in skills and manners because of the conditioning they've gone through under Septa Mordane's tutelage, someone who she considers beneath her, be offered and forced things she desperately wants and will never get.

Hell, Jeyne even manifests some juridical administrative knowledge and argues with Sansa about it, something she won't get to do as an adult woman, while Sansa and Arya will rule (their husband's) castles.

"Father's leg, silly. It hurts him ever so much, it makes him cross. Otherwise I'm certain he would have sent Ser Loras." [...] "Ser Ilyn's the King's Justice, not Ser Loras," Jeyne said. "Lord Eddard should have sent him." - Sansa III, AGOT

Not that any of them would be good at ruling anything, they are all middle schoolers at this point, but I think she could have felt vexed at constantly seeing Arya reject all that she wishes she could have for herself.

Please don't misunderstand me, that is still not a valid reason to bully Arya.

There are no valid reasons to bully a child.

But there are reasons behind Jeyne's mentality and actions, and I think some of those reasons come from a sense of resentment over how "easy" things are for Arya because of her status as Lord Stark's daughter.

As Arya Stark, Jeyne's dreams come true, she marries the future paramount Lord of Winterfell and twisted wish fulfilment is one hell of a drug and not one strong enough to numb the pain! And to add insult to injury, the real Arya gets to spend a significant amount of time accompanying Beric Dondarrion and his band of merry men. I fucking hate this!

And while I think that this is the main aspect of Jeyne bullying Arya, there is something more which I haven't seen written elsewhere and I am willing to admit it could be a sketchy interpretation, but I would like to talk about it anyway because it's MY inane post and I get to choose the straws I grasp at!

Ⅲ. Ⅱ. JEYNE POOLE'S LOOKS

We don't have a lot of physical descriptions for Jeyne. Her eyes are the most remarkable feature about her, being described as big, brown and expressive by Theon and Jaime. Sansa and Holly consider her pretty. Theon calls her beautiful, but only when prompted by Ramsay and it's not very believable. In his thoughts he previously claims she is no longer pretty because of the slashes on her back. I don't know how seriously he means this, but I find it remarkable. Asides from that she is described as a skinny, pale, brown haired girl. She describes herself as formerly pretty but not beautiful and when doing so compares herself to Sansa and sees herself as the lesser of the two. And yet, the entire ruse she is later involved in with this pseudo-karmic punishment, is based on her looking similar enough to Arya or the Stark look to pass as one. I always thought it was so extremely funny how defensive she gets when she claims her face isn't horsey, at the mere mention of the "horseface" nickname, even without Theon telling her she looks horsey.

I don't know. It is probably that I'm looking into this with more depth than I should simply because of...obvious reasonsfsgfgsfsghgdnfjdhdf, but who sometimes makes remarks about the Stark look being one of bastards and plain-looking-people?

[Arya] even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. And Jon's mother had been common, or so people whispered.- Sansa I, AGOT

My lord father found some skinny northern girl more or less the same age with more or less the same coloring. - Jaime IX, ASOS

"You [Arya] ought to marry Hodor, you're just like him, stupid and hairy and ugly!" - Sansa III, AGOT

Imagining little Sansa Stark going to vent to little Jeyne Poole after having an argument with her sister and making a perhaps not even genuinely meant comment about little Arya Stark's looks and Jeyne just sitting there mentally competing against Stannis Baratheon in who can grind their teeth the hardest.

While there are no instances of Sansa calling Arya "Horseface" she sometimes remarks to herself and to her sister that she thinks Arya is ugly and looks like a commoner.

And who has class insecurities and also seems to look similar to Arya?

"Jeyne, Jeyne, it rhymes with plain..." I can already imagine her whispering that to herself if she ever hears Theon's rhymes.

"I was never beautiful like Sansa, but they all said I was pretty. Does Lord Ramsay think I am pretty?" - The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

The only thing Jeyne seems to really have going for her compared to Arya, the thing that could miraculously elevate her, are her looks and even those pale compared to Sansa. As said, she is described as pretty by some, but not beautiful.

In my opinion, the text doesn't really describe Arya as ugly. It is somewhat left up to interpretation since, while Sansa, Cat, Theon and Arya herself give us the impression she might be, there are also textual comparisons to Lyanna and even people who didn't know her think of Arya as beautiful (Lady Smallwood), but since these girls grew up the way they grew up...

I can imagine Jeyne feeling like her "prettiness" is the one thing she thinks can be used to make her more valuable in Westerosi society, and in order to keep that idea of herself being prettier than Arya, she has to make sure Arya doesn't feel good about her looks, so she calls her horseface.

And, if going by this entire text that I've been writing because I am stupid, that is also completely self-destructive and tragicomical !!!

Basically I think it is possible that Jeyne is projecting her own insecurities regarding her looks and her overall sense of inferiority compared to Sansa unto Arya.

And Jeyne has reasons to feel inferior to Sansa beyond simply the class hierarchy and the possible feeling of unattractiveness, because - and now I will get blocked by another load of people if this is read- Sansa is not very good at being a friend to her!

Ⅳ. The Sansa-Jeyne Dynamic

This is one of those things that completely baffles me, same as the Theon-Robb dynamic, where I have no idea how it is possible that my perception in the past ten years has been so drastically different from the majority of the fandom. And I swear to god, I've tried to change my perspective, I read metas, I tried fanfics, and I still don't get it.

This years Sansa month dedicated an entire day to Jeyne Poole.

Someone who is not very well acquainted with the books would probably assume Jeyne Poole is a very important girl in Sansa's narrative based on that information. They'd probably be surprised to find out that, since the two girls were separated, Jeyne Poole is remembered a total number of four times by Sansa Stark.

Sansa thinks of Jeyne Poole a total of four (4) times since AGOT.

In the span of four books in which both Stark sisters go through terribly drastic changes in their lives, Arya thinks of the girl who bullied her three times.

Sansa who loves and misses Jeyne thinks of her four times.

And you are telling me that she is so important to Sansa that she deserves an entire day dedicated to her? And everything that is created in that day is about how Sansa loves her so much and cares for her tremendously and will protect her?

PERSON D: It's because Sansa is traumatised. It pains her too much to think of her. Not thinking of her is a coping mechanism.

"She missed Septa Mordane, and even more Jeyne Poole, her truest friend. The septa had lost her head with the rest, for the crime of serving House Stark. Sansa did not know what had happened to Jeyne, who had disappeared from her rooms afterward, never to be mentioned again. She tried not to think of them too often, yet sometimes the memories came unbidden, and then it was hard to hold back the tears." - Sansa II, ACOK

Person D: See?

Probably! I don't oppose that interpretation, it's very possible. People often suppress painful memories. But I can still disapprove of that coping mechanism. Would you like it if you suddenly disappeared form the face of earth in extremely mysterious circumstances and your friend wouldn't even ask about what happened to you? I don't think I would feel loved and treasured if I were to know that.

I don't like the way their dynamic is perceived by a majority of the fandom based on those four thoughts and the few other times we seen them interact in AGOT.

Person E: Oh OP is just posting anti-Jeynsa stuff because they ship Jeyne, A CHILD, with Theon, AN ADULT MAN AND RAPIST!

I wouldn't consider this anti-Jeynsa since

This is what makes their dynamic intriguing for me. This is the type of Jeynsa I'm into!!!

I don't think their relationship in inherently wrong or that it would be morally condemnable.

Also I don't even really ship Theon & Jeyne as an endgame romantic/sexual ship, not that it wowuld be morally wrong for anyone to do so. I "ship" it as a very turbulent dynamic between two people who have been forced to bond by the horrible circumstances they have been in and who have had the boundaries that define certain relationship dynamics blurred in some very traumatic ways. I "ship it" in the sense that I would like to see both of them find some tranquility and peace in their lives and try to explore which of those blurred boundaries they wish to reestablish, keep blurred or fully erase. Hell, I wrote a 100k fanfic focusing on their relationship and didn't even let them be endgame. I didn't even let them be actually in love.

It's just that "cute, loving, soft, homoromantic childhood best friends" isn't the dynamic I'm usually interested in.

And I don't think the Jeynsa dynamic is that.

I think there are class issues and inferiorities to be explored. I think Sansa is true in her affections for Jeyne, she loves her and sees her as a friend, but she is also diminishing and tends to look down on her, and regardless if it is a coping mechanism or not, she shows no interest in finding out what happened to who she considers her "truest friend".

And I don't believe Sansa is a bad person for this, I believe she is a young girl. Relationships between women are complicated enough already. Relationships between pre-teen and teen girls have entire studies dedicated to them.

Person F: How much would Sansa even consider her as a bff? In their bullying of Arya, Jeyne comes across as the acolyte to Queen Bea Sansa. And that's just modern projection. Jeyne is from a minor house. She's just a steward's daughter. She's just slightly above a servant in feudalist hierarchy. She's assigned to be her "friend" coz she's conveniently the same age, and that's just what you did then. Like "milk-siblings", servants who shared a wetnurse with a lord. (1/2)(2/2) Lower houses are fancy domesticity to the greater houses. The great nobility is fancy domesticity to royalty. That's just how feudalism worked. Everyone was thought of as a servant, the entirety of society was built on a network of servitude and dependance. Even the king is a servant: to God. Or "Gods" in the case of ASOIAF. Hence all the conclicts between church and royalty.

I saw this comment a while ago on a Tumblr post (I'm not putting a source link because I don't believe that would be fair to them and also it's older than a year) and I don't like it.

I think it is unfairly villainising Sansa and also removing Jeyne's agency in that situation by putting her as an "acolyte" (assistant, follower), when the composition of our first scene involving them, in my opinion, shows her as an adviser. I also don't like how it is pretending that Jeyne is being forced to be Sansa's friend and if going by that logic, then why isn't Beth being forced to be Arya's friend?

I disagree with it. I think it simplifies a more complex situation.

But I wish we were allowed to explore the less wholesome aspects in the Jeyne-Sansa dynamic without being instantaneously labeled as a Sansa-anti and it is what I'll attempt.

Something I always found very endearing and relatable about Sansa was how much she craved for friends - especially female friends - since she is left alone in King's Landing.

It had been so long since she had enjoyed the company of other women, she had almost forgotten how pleasant it could be. - Sansa II, ASOS

How am I supposed not to feel my heart ache in bittersweetness? My favourite Sansa "friendship" is actually the one she builds with Garlan Tyrell, but this is a moment of bliss.

It's interesting how Sansa often finds amusement in female friends who act very differently from how she does, but as her character evolves in the books her feelings for those types of companions also seem to change.

We have Jeyne, Margaery and Myranda, as her "friends", characters with whom she experiences very different dynamics and I think it is at least partially involved with their classes too.

Jeyne is the one she treats the most poorly, in my opinion. Ignoring how little she thinks of her after Jeyne is taken away by Littlefinger, let's see some of their previous interactions and let's also keep in mind that Sansa is (at most) a 12-year-old girl not having a very good time and she deserves compassion:

[...] Jeyne and Sansa cried out in unison as riders crashed together, lances exploding into splinters while the commons screamed for their favorites. Jeyne covered her eyes whenever a man fell, like a frightened little girl, but Sansa was made of sterner stuff. A great lady knew how to behave at tournaments. Even Septa Mordane noted her composure and nodded in approval. - Sansa II, AGOT

Sansa feels superior to Jeyne for staying calm at the face of violence. This will become a pattern.

Jeyne Poole wept so hysterically that Septa Mordane finally took her off to regain her composure, but Sansa sat with her hands folded in her lap, watching with a strange fascination. [...] By then Septa Mordane had returned, alone. Jeyne had been feeling ill, she explained; she had helped her back to the castle. Sansa had almost forgotten about Jeyne. - Sansa II, AGOT

Jeyne is hysterical after seeing a man die at the tourney, Sansa isn't very concerned for her friend's mental state.

"His leg?" Jeyne said uncertainly. She was a pretty, dark-haired girl of Sansa's own age. "Did Ser Loras hurt his leg?" "Not his leg," Sansa said, nibbling delicately at a chicken leg. "Father's leg, silly. It hurts him ever so much, it makes him cross. Otherwise I'm certain he would have sent Ser Loras." - Sansa III, AGOT

"Silly". It could be solely meant with endearment, but throughout that scene Sansa is in a bad mood and I wonder how Jeyne might have perceived it given she continues arguing with her about juridical administration and contradicts Sansa.

Of course, Jeyne had been in love with Lord Beric ever since she had first glimpsed him in the lists. Sansa thought she was being silly; Jeyne was only a steward's daughter, after all, and no matter how much she mooned after him, Lord Beric would never look at someone so far beneath him, even if she hadn't been half his age. - Sansa III, AGOT

Again, "silly", and this time with a slightly classist connotation. And the saddest thing is that Sansa is right, but she often daydreams of unrealistic or impossible romantic scenarios herself and had a crush on Waymar Royce, a man who was older than her, of lower nobility and about to make a vow of celibacy. Why is Jeyne the silly one for daydreaming?

"They're killing everyone," the steward's daughter had shrieked at her. She went on and on. The Hound had broken down her door with a warhammer, she said. There were bodies on the stair of the Tower of the Hand, and the steps were slick with blood. Sansa dried her own tears as she struggled to comfort her friend. They went to sleep in the same bed, cradled in each other's arms like sisters. The second day was even worse. [...] The only sounds were Jeyne Poole's endless whimpers and sobs. - Sansa IV, AGOT

Jeyne Poole had been confined with her, but Jeyne was useless. Her face was puffy from all her crying, and she could not seem to stop sobbing about her father. "I'm certain your father is well," Sansa told her when she had finally gotten the dress buttoned right. "I'll ask the queen to let you see him." She thought that kindness might lift Jeyne's spirits, but the other girl just looked at her with red, swollen eyes and began to cry all the harder. She was such a child. - Sansa IV, AGOT

Remember what I said about Septa Mordane's "Stop weeping, child."? Sansa is vexed by her crying although Sansa cries herself, thinks of her as useless, she thinks demeaningly of Jeyne because she is crying after realising her father has been killed..

"Jeyne's scared," Sansa said. "She won't stop crying. I promised her I'd ask if she could see her father." - Sansa IV, AGOT

This feels like a twisted version of the first passage in this list. Sansa is scared herself, we know this because she was trembling as she dressed, but she speaks only of Jeyne's fear.

Jeyne Poole and all her things were gone when Ser Mandon Moore returned Sansa to the high tower of Maegor's Holdfast. No more weeping, she thought gratefully. - Sansa IV, AGOT

Sansa, love, I know you are very stressed out but come on open your eyes!

Somehow this reminds me a bit of a less extreme version of Theon's inconsistencies in thoughts and actions involving Jeyne in ADWD. He is very crude when thinking of her, but if you go through his actual treatment of her, he is surprisingly tender. The only exception I can think of for them is in TWOW.

With Sansa, I think it is similar, but whereas Theon is painfully aware of how perilous their lives as Ramsay's playthings are, Sansa constantly refuses to see the gravity of their situation and thus is dismissive of Jeyne in a moment where it becomes terribly cruel. I don't think she doesn't love Jeyne, of course, she does,

The kitchen yielded no lemon cakes, but they did find half of a cold strawberry pie, and that was almost as good. They ate it on the tower steps, giggling and gossiping and sharing secrets, - Sansa III, AGOT

"Where are you sending her? She hasn't done anything wrong, she's a good girl." - Sansa IV, AGOT

No more weeping, she thought gratefully. Yet somehow it seemed colder with Jeyne gone, even after she'd built a fire. - Sansa IV, AGOT

She missed Septa Mordane, and even more Jeyne Poole, her truest friend. [...] Sansa did not know what had happened to Jeyne, who had disappeared from her rooms afterward, never to be mentioned again. - Sansa II, ACOK

She sang for her mother and her father, for her grandfather Lord Hoster and her uncle Edmure Tully, for her friend Jeyne Poole, - Sansa V, ACOK

She had not had a friend to gossip with since poor Jeyne Poole. - Alayne II, AFFC

Remembering bright cold days at Winterfell, when she would race through Winterfell with her friend Jeyne Poole, with Arya running after them trying to keep up. - Alayne I, TWOW

I think Sansa just sometimes takes her for granted.

I think it's sad because it's realistic and it hurts even more when you compare her treatment of Jeyne to her treatment of Margaery and Myranda after going through a period of hostile isolation and a heartbreaking customary middle school betrayal, two things that I believe influence her feelings for both girls.

With Margaery and her posse, she is idealistic. She considers Margaery to be kind, brave and wise, and finds bliss (and a little bit of envy and gayness, ooooh) in the company of her ladies.

Margaery's kindness had been unfailing, and her presence changed everything. Her ladies welcomed Sansa as well. It had been so long since she had enjoyed the company of other women, she had almost forgotten how pleasant it could be. Lady Leonette gave her lessons on the high harp, and Lady Janna shared all the choice gossip. Merry Crane always had an amusing story, and little Lady Bulwer reminded her of Arya, though not so fierce. Closest to Sansa's own age were the cousins Elinor, Alla, and Megga, Tyrells from junior branches of the House. "Roses from lower on the bush," quipped Elinor, who was witty and willowy. Megga was round and loud, Alla shy and pretty, but Elinor ruled the three by right of womanhood; she was a maiden flowered, whereas Megga and Alla were mere girls. The cousins took Sansa into their company as if they had known her all their lives. They spent long afternoons doing needlework and talking over lemon cakes and honeyed wine, played at tiles of an evening, sang together in the castle sept ... and often one or two of them would be chosen to share Margaery's bed, where they would whisper half the night away. Alla had a lovely voice, and when coaxed would play the woodharp and sing songs of chivalry and lost loves. Megga couldn't sing, but she was mad to be kissed. She and Alla played a kissing game sometimes, she confessed, but it wasn't the same as kissing a man, much less a king. - Sansa II, ASOS

There is a direct comparison to Arya, mentions of many of Sansa's hobbies, some sapphicness, and if I squint my eyes the needlework and lemon cakes remind me of Jeyne & Beth. And then...Sansa is made to marry Tyrion and that match frustrates the Tyrell's ambitions.

And here Sansa found the Tyrells. Margaery gave her such a sad look, and when the Queen of Thorns tottered in between Left and Right, she never looked at her at all. Elinor, Alla, and Megga seemed determined not to know her. My friends, Sansa thought bitterly. - Sansa III, ASOS

After that emotional betrayal, Sansa spends more time of isolation and this time it's even more depressing in my opinion. The few people who show her kindness are also somewhat compliant in her misery and then she gets abducted by Petyr Baelish and has to take the role of his bastard daughter, Alayne Stone. Under this guise she meets Myranda Royce and Mya Stone.

While I would say she befriends both girls, her connection with Randa resembles that which she had with Jeyne and Margaery more than her connection with Mya. Both of them share some common interests and Myranda, isn't disdainful at all of her supposed bastardy.

Person G: That's because she is cunning and suspects Alayne is actually highborn.

I'm not so convinced by that argument! She is described of being as closes as sisters with Mya Stone, another bastard.

Sansa's distrust for Myranda is, in my opinion, only partially fuelled by Littlefinger's words.

"Soon or late you must meet Myranda Royce," Petyr had warned her. "When you do, be careful. She likes to play the merry fool, but underneath she's shrewder than her father. Guard your tongue around her." - Alayne II, AFFC

I think her distrust comes mostly from her last close homosocial relationship having been a farce, from feeling manipulated, used and deceived. And that mistrust remains but is worn down by Randa's warm personality.

I think there is is something very sweet about comparing the following passages:

Sansa knelt at the feet of her future queen. "You do me great honor, Your Grace." "Won't you call me Margaery? Please, rise. Loras, help the Lady Sansa to her feet. Might I call you Sansa?" - Sansa I, ASOS

"Kind?" The older girl gave a laugh. "How boring that would be. I aspire to be wicked. You must tell me all your secrets on the ride down. May I call you Alayne?" "If you wish, my lady." But you'll get no secrets from me. "I am 'my lady' at the Gates, but up here on the mountain you may call me Randa. How many years have you, Alayne?" [...] "As you say, my lady." "Randa. Come now, you can say it. Ran. Da." "Randa." - Alayne II, AFFC

It's curious how in both cases there is this chance of friendship being offered to Sansa by a girl who has a higher rank than her but one is done much more courteously than the other. Sansa never calls Myranda "Randa" again, but as she warms up to her she begins referring to her as such in the narration. I think that is very heartwarming.

Maybe it is stupid to complain about the idealisation of a flawed friendship in these books, but I think the reason it annoys me so much is because it removes this type of development in Sansa's socialising. Her interactions with Myranda are delightful to read and I think it's the healthiest friendship she has formed yet.

And Myranda also embodies aspects of Margaery and Jeyne, so it's an even funnier conclusion. She is a little bit less ladylike than Sansa, but is still comfortable with her gender and the assigned roles, she is a little foul mouthed, she likes to gossip and to take friends to her bed (in an apparent not-sexual way).

"Lothor Brune?" Myranda raised an eyebrow. "Does she know?" She did not wait for an answer. "He has no hope, poor man. My father's tried to make a match for Mya, but she'll have none of them. She is half mule, that one." Despite herself, Alayne found herself warming to the older girl. She had not had a friend to gossip with since poor Jeyne Poole. "Do you think Ser Lothor likes her as she is, in mail and leather?" she asked the older girl, who seemed so worldly-wise. "Or does he dream of her draped in silks and velvets?" "He's a man. He dreams of her naked." She is trying to make me blush again. Lady Myranda must have heard her thoughts. "You do turn such a pretty shade of pink. When I blush I look quite like an apple. I have not blushed for years, though." She leaned closer. "Does your father plan to wed again?" - Alayne II, AFFC

Even Lady Myranda began to yawn and complain of being weary. "We have apartments prepared for all of you," she told Alayne, "but if you like you may share my bed tonight. It's large enough for four." "I should be honored, my lady." "Randa. Count yourself fortunate that I'm so tired. All I want to do is curl up and go to sleep. Usually when ladies share my bed they have to pay a pillow tax and tell me all about the wicked things they've done." "What if they haven't done any wicked things?" "Why, then they must confess all the wicked things they want to do. Not you, of course. I can see how virtuous you are just by looking at those rosy cheeks and big blue eyes of yours." She yawned again. "I hope your feet are warm. I do hate bedmaids with cold feet." - Alayne II, AFFC

"I do hope you will forgive me for depriving you of Lady Myranda's company," Alayne told the knights. She did not wait for a reply, but took the older girl arm-in-arm and drew her away from the bench. Only when they were out of earshot did she whisper, "Do you really know where my father is?" "Of course not. Walk faster, my new suitors may be following." Myranda made a face. "Ossifer Lipps is the dullest knight in the Vale, but Uther Shett aspires to his laurels. I am praying they fight a duel for my hand, and kill each other." Alayne giggled. "Surely Lord Nestor would not seriously entertain a suit from such men." - Alayne I, TWOW

"Too late," Myranda said. "They're here. We shall need to do the honors by ourselves." She grinned. "Last one to the gate must marry Uther Shett." They made a race of it, dashing headlong across the yard and past the stables, skirts flapping, whilst knights and serving men alike looked on, and pigs and chickens scattered before them. It was most unladylike, but Alayne sound found herself laughing. For just a little while, as she ran, she forget who she was, and where, and found herself remembering bright cold days at Winterfell, when she would race through Winterfell with her friend Jeyne Poole, with Arya running after them trying to keep up. By the time they arrived at the gatehouse, both of them were red-faced and panting. Myranda had lost her cloak somewhere along the way. They were just in time. - Alayne I, TWOW 

I don't even ship them (Mya x Myranda and Sansa x Brienne ftw), and this doesn't have anything to do with the theme of whatever this text turned into, but I love their dynamic so much I would ship it if it became canon. It's adorable and funny and out of her dynamics with other girls, this one is my favourite.

We know that the Sansa-Margaery friendship turned out disappointingly, and some have the suspicion that Myranda could act as a new tormentor for Sansa, and I have no way to disprove that, but seeing her development in regards to female friendships makes me at least doubt it.

She took Jeyne for granted and was disdainful, spent a time of hostile isolation, met Margaery and her ladies, went through the horrors of idealisation and crashed against the truth, spent even more time alone and kept the wounds from her sorrow, and is now apparently finding a healthy friendship with Myranda Royce and I love that for her.

It makes me wonder how her feelings for Jeyne could evolve if they get to meet again, and whether she will be more conscious of how their friendship was flawed. Of how she should have probably tried to be more attentive to the dynamic between Jeyne & Arya, of how she perhaps shouldn't have been passive about Jeyne's bullying nor participated in it.

As I write I am checking everything in my journals and I couldn't find a single occasion in which we see Sansa calling Arya "Horseface", but I did however find her thinking of Arya's looks as "horsey" with a negative connotation:

Her long horsey face got the stubborn look that meant she was going to do something willful. [...] One day she came back grinning her horsey grin, her hair all tangled and her clothes covered in mud, clutching a raggedy bunch of purple and green flowers for Father.  - Sansa II, AGOT

She also giggles at and uses Jeyne's nicknames for Hobber and Horas Redwyne:

The Redwyne twins, Ser Horas and Ser Hobber, homely youths with orange hair and square, freckled faces. Sansa and Jeyne Poole used to call them Ser Horror and Ser Slobber, and giggle whenever they caught sight of them. - Arya V, AGOT

She recognized black-skinned Jalabhar Xho, gloomy Ser Aron Santagar, the Redwyne twins Horror and Slobber - Sansa V, ACOK

Paxter Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor, marched down the length of the hall flanked by his twin sons Horror and Slobber, - Sansa VIII, ACOK

And seeing her snicker at those names is already enough for me to pin her as a passive victimiser in their case. Even if she felt bad about it, something I could find no indication of. Sansa doesn't think of how painful it must be for them to be referred to that way, how dehumanising it is.

So, with that information, I don't think she's above having called Arya "Horseface".

Ⅴ. Adulthood

Where are the adults? Why is it that during the entire time we spend with these three girls under the care of Septa Mordane, Ned and Catelyn Stark and Vayon Poole we never see them taking action and putting a stop to this?

DontbotherwiththepronunciationRightNowRealisingTheySpentWayTooMuchFuckingTimeDevelopingAPunchlineTheyLost: Probably because this book isn't about medieval setting middle school bullying, you idiot! And there is a lot of really urgent stuff going on with the adults. Get over yourself.

Yeah...

But still! Prior to all that, prior to the story we've been reading, these characters existed in their own universe and in that universe, all these girls have been judged by adult society and have been set in a toxic environment that unintentionally allows and encourages the bullying.

I already explained that when talking about Septa Mordane.

My question now isn't whether we should fault the adults or not, but more about how this would have developed as Arya, Jeyne and Sansa all became adults.

Of corse, this is all speculation on a rather unimportant topic that has been discussed hundreds of times before and my opinion is probably somewhat tainted by lingering emotions, so yeah this might have been worthless but I couldn't sleep and it was a little fun.

Perhaps because of my own issues with bullying, which were handed very poorly by the adults who should have solved it, I like daydreaming about these three girls, all of who I like and wish good things upon, and wondering whether they would have been able to solve their problems as they matured into adulthood if their lives had remained peaceful. I sadly don't think they would have.

Throughout the entire text I wrote, I felt like walking on egg shells because, as you can probably see if you just look at my blog, I barely talk about Arya or Sansa and I know there is a lot of tension between fans of those characters and I didn't want to say anything that could feel offensive and somehow it was still surprisingly easy to write this. I think maybe it is because I don't relate to any of the characters, like I do with Theon or Barbrey, so I can distance myself from it a little more. On the other hand, this is a topic that still haunts me.

I really don't think they would have solved any of this if they had remained in Winterfell with things going the way they usually went.

But now, after being completely torn and victimised by war in extremely different ways that still somehow manage to bring similar themes to their stories (the always present threat of sexual abuse, the weaponising of a person, depersonalisation, dead parents, a broken home, losing their privileges as highborn, being saved by the Hound), once they reunite and are the only bonds that remains of a happier time, I think they could.

Maybe their newly found maturity and the despair born out of tragedy could make it easier to overcome all their past offences and forge a bond.

It's strange. I always go for the bitter, resentful and scorned women - I wonder why - (Barb, Cersei) or those who have aspects I can relate to cultural duality, immigration or rootlessness (Theon, Dany) but never for the more-or-less-happily-gender-conforming "damsel in distress", much less for one who reminds me of some of the worst people I've met, and yet out of the three girls involved in this she is the one I am the most attached to.

I think she mostly grew on me after I learnt she was omitted from the show and that her narrative was given to Sansa because that is such a cruel joke from D&D.

Jeyne Poole: Hey! I am the character meant to show how everyone is valuable, worthy and deserving of being saved and protected and how everyone matters and also to further develop Theon's character while functioning as a symbol of his culpability and regret of the three vilest things he has done(among other things of course)! D&D: Ok, we are cutting her because she is not important enough to matter. Give her plot to the barely adult red-headed Stark so Theon can find redemption by saving a Stark and getting a wolf pin and we can shiptease Sansa with a bunch of people and marketise her as an ice queen girlboss.

It's so mean it's a little funny. On a meta level I think she is the biggest loser in this series. I think that is why I like her so much. I liked her before I knew of that and I remember crying at @/croclock's art of her and Theon escaping (1) (2) (3), but I didn't feel as emotionally attached to her until after I found out.

I remember when I watched the show there was a scene that caused a lot of controversy that I can somehow relate to this.

Sandor Clegane: You've changed, Little Bird. None of it would have happened if you'd left King's Landing with me. No Littlefinger, no Ramsay... none of it. Sansa Stark: Without Littlefinger and Ramsay and the rest, I would have stayed a Little Bird all my life.

And of course this dialogue is gross and it doesn't make any sense in the books, and I still wrote it down on my journals because I think, maybe trying to be an optimist, that the message behind it was different than what was actually said???

It comes across as "I'm happy and grateful I was abused and raped" which is nauseating, obviously, but I think it was rather supposed to be more of a "All the choices I've made across my life and all the events that occurred through it have lead me here, to become the person I am today and I am proud of that person." which could still have been controversial, but is something I would have agreed with more, and it's not something I would only apply on these girls.

Maybe we'll get such a moment at some point with a better execution, hopefully, in the books.

[officersnickers]

What do you think of season 2 of TPN? Personally, I think it's not that bad and I read the manga.

Let's make a list for this! 😎

Strong points of The Promised Neverland Season 2:

great opening

the first two and a half episodes were nicely done with cuts in the story I can accept due to the limits of the medium anime

Gilda getting at Emma‘s ass? hilarious

the hunting scene with Emma and Sonju was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my life with wonderfully done, fluid animation and genius callbacks to S1

great visuals througout the whole season, ngl (e.g. Norman‘s speech in his coat? chef‘s kiss)

bebe Norman? Sign me the fuck up! also his downfall to madness in Ep.8 was a joy to watch

James animated! and coloured! moving and speaking and... dying?

no words:

ACTUALLY YES WORDS FUCK YEAH THEY LET ISABELLA LIVE THANK YOU THAT‘S ALL I EVER WANTED AND SURELY DIDN‘T SAVED THIS SEASONS ASS BUT MADE US ALL GO BONKERS AND THAT‘S MORE THAN I EXPECTED IT TO HAPPEN AT THIS POINT!!! 😍😍

sorry for the screaming. I will behave now

overall, they had clearly visions and ideas, even original ones I'd love to see Cloverworks develop even further and differ from the manga's original story

That being said, what didn‘t work (for me)?

With all the original ideas they had, they surely did nothing with them, sadly

the anime could have given us more time with the kids adapting to the demon world, Norman‘s time in Lambda, even them travelling with Mujika and Sonju, but noooo…

characters being flatened. Emma turned into a self-loathing mess, Ray‘s now not caring about anyone besides his family, and Norman… was pushed into our faces every few seconds because everyone missed him so much and couldn‘t function without him. Whack

these motherfuckes we spend way too much time with:

I hate them... so much 🤮

they put Emma back in a skirt. do I need to tell you more?

y‘know

why is Cislo white again?

framing the one black guy we got as the traitor (even if was for just one episode) wasn't the best move Cloverworks

HOT AIR BALLOONS?!?

WHAT IS THE NEW PROMISE?! THIS SERIES IS CALLED PROMISED NEVERLAND YOU HAVE TO TELL US ABOUT THE NEW PROMISE!!

A CLIPSHOW?! THAT'S WHAT WE GOT AT THE END?!?!

I will never recover from this:

Overall, that's just how I feel about this "adaptation":

But whoever had their fun and joy with S2 is so much stronger than I am and earns bothing but my respect. Just let me cry in no gay dads we never got to see for a while now, okay?

[sixty-silver-wishes]

YALL I found my old diary from when I was 13 and I was NOT prepared for how much it swings between “pretentious wannabe Romantic poet” and “cripplingly self-aware middle schooler”

So right away this is hardcore. Comes with a warning that my ghost will haunt whoever reads it after my death.

“The account of Ocean Waves [for some reason, I was convinced I would be published under that name lol] ^ otherwise known by a less appealing name, is enclosed. Please do not read until you are sure my name is carved into a headstone. If I am killed for the sole purpose of reading this, however far-fetched that may seem, I will hunt you down.”

Happy reading,

- Ocean.

P.S.- You can, however, read this with permission. Good luck with that. Also, if you do decide to kill me, I would prefer a peaceful death. And by the way, I would prefer even more if you didn’t try to kill me. Oh, and if this is read while I’m still alive, I will still hunt you down.”

Already, you can see the makings of a future historian in the works.

“In this somewhat girly journal [it was Disney Princess themed] is the somewhat boring account of a 13-year-old girl. I, Sophia [last name], also known as Ocean Waves, am recording things in here in hopes of future discovery. As I will not share this to [sic] the outside world, I hope this journal will be preserved so that future civilization may find out about my time. However, as a writer and an artist, my goal is to be noticed, not especially famous.”

I give some hilarious takes here:

“I also have artist’s block. I tried drawing a picture earlier; but I didn’t feel like finishing it. I wonder if I’ll ever draw with a passion again.”

(No, younger me, you were just undiagnosed with ADHD.)

Notably, I don’t think I was the Medieval history expert I thought I was at the time:

“I don’t wish to have a boyfriend, and at 13, I don’t think I’m ready to. In the dark ages, girls my age would have already been grandmothers. I think that’s revolting.”

I get very pretentious about my English classes, although I have to say, I still agree with my criticisms of the school system.

“This is my own personal thought, and I prefer it not to be read, as I think differently at night. I think the school system does not have a very good idea of what language arts should be like. We spend hours picking apart and dissecting poems, like they are carcasses and we vultures. Poems aren’t made to be dissected, they’re made to be felt. And all we write are expository essays. Of course this is important, but there’s no way to express how we feel. After all, who decided to put “art” in “language arts” when there is no art to it at all; just mindless examining? I’m sorry for my rant [not sure why I keep apologizing to my private diary], but that’s what journals are for. Until tomorrow,

- Ocean”

I also write about my own art with self-loathing that would put a sexually-repressed 17th century Puritan to shame. You can see me dot my “i” with circles now because I saw a Buzzfeed video once that said people who do that are creative. And I get very passionate about Edgar Allan Poe for some reason:

“I experimented with my new copic markers today, and everyone who saw my drawings seemed to like them. I’m disgraced to say that I had a sense of overwhelming pride, but I’m not used to people noticing my art too often. In first period (aka so called “Language Arts”), we read “The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe. Most people in the class didn’t seem to appreciate it, but I did. It tore open the hearts of both the reader + the main character, exposing his grief + longing towards Lenore, who [sic] he can never see again, so much that the stoic raven drives him to insanity and later, death. And to think that Poe got barely any recognition in his time! I’m not expecting much publicity from my books, but I do hope I’ll be able to write gripping + chilling stories like Poe did, without his own troubles (…)”

… In summary, I think 13 year old me would be very happy to know that in the years since, I majored in English, still draw, still single, and own a Poe anthology I bought while visiting the museum dedicated to him in Virginia.

[sleepingdeath-light]

OKIE AVERY TIME AND I SWEAR I’M DONE (🚊 anon again!!)

Canon facts here:

-Avery.. is a psychic type trainer! He’s from a line of psychics actually! However, he’s always being shunned by his family because he’s not as good as his family (his family can teleport and read minds but all Avery can do is use his telekinesis and bend spoons with his MIND)

-he LOVES slowpokes. He admires them because they just live life without a care in the world and he wants to be like them too 🥺 which is why he uses a slowbro as his ace

-is SUPER cocky and arrogant, always tryna battle us to be better than everyone (but he’s just doing it to cover his insecurities because he’s scared the player will get more attention than him since the player is stronger)

-he actually got his trainer license revoked because he kept making trainers float in the air when he lost to them xD what a loser lmao I love him sm

-he wants to open his own psychic type gym one day!! He wants to prove he’s worthy to his family by being such a strong psychic type trainer that he’ll be the first to open a psychic type gym ^^

-very sophisticated lad and loves to be tidy and clean (he hates getting dirty)

I don’t think there’s much fanon facts about him since he’s not as popular as other characters like Submas but.. yeah there you go!! :) I hope this helps and again I’m so sorry for spamming your inbox with my info dumping. It won’t happen again!! (*COUGH* unless you’re planning on writing for scarlet/Violet characters) 🫣 just say the word and I’ll help Sleepy!!

All very interesting! And he’s oddly adorable to read about — as well as hilarious because he appears to be the ultimate sore loser hahaha

These will be helpful with my pending requests, so thank you so much for that!

And as I am writing for all of the canon Pokémon games — you can feel free to send me information about whoever/whatever and there’s a good chance it will come in handy at some point haha ^^

But, again, thank you so much for your help — and please never feel the need to apologise I love hearing people be passionate about their interests /gen ^^

[ragingbookdragon]

All I Wanna Be Is Somebody To You

A Jason Todd x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: None

Author's Note: For the one anon who wanted a nervous reader! I hope I did this justice for you, darling! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She didn’t hate talking. Not really. But the idea of holding conversations with people she didn’t know sent her heart fluttering and her throat tightening until it was impossible to breathe. More often than not, she found herself apologizing a lot for the stuttering or the repeating of things she said. Most people gave her odd looks, told her to stop apologizing so much (like that ever helped anyone), or laughed and told her she was cute—which was nice until she realized they meant in a childish sort of way rather than an endearing one.

But it wasn’t always like that. According to her parents, there’d been a time when she couldn’t stop talking. Always had something to say and had somebody to tell. Something changed during her years, she knew when, even if she didn’t want to admit it to herself or her family when they asked what happened to their outgoing and talkative daughter. Too many times she’d heard, “You know no one cares about X, right?” or “Oh my God, will you shut up?” and every time she heard it from a friend it dug into her a little deeper, made her shut her mouth tighter, and tore her heart much harsher.

And because she chose to be the silent type instead of the outgoing one, people assumed her arrogant and cold, distant and rude, and she found herself spending most of middle school and high school by herself. She was glad when graduation came, and while she’d dreaded giving her valedictorian speech, she did manage to get through it without too much trouble. It did feel like her one triumph against everyone who ignored her throughout school.

College freed her. Allowed her to make a flexible schedule, take smaller classes, and be solitary when she wanted. She’d refused a dorm room on the campus, living only fifteen minutes from Gotham University, instead choosing to commute daily and she liked it a lot more than having roommates in a four-bedroom apartment on the school grounds.

When she wasn’t in class, she stayed home a lot. It came with being a homebody, but when she did go out into the great big city, she liked to shop. Little antique shops or bookstores. She went to bookstores more than she did school. There was something so wonderful about finding a book in the shop and sitting down at a café and reading quietly. Which is how she met him, and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why he wanted anything to do with her. She was quiet and shy, and he was open and flirty. They obviously didn’t match in any way, shape, or form. At least, that’s what she thought.

***

She drew her gaze along the wall of books before her, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she searched for the novel. It’d been a long time since she’d read The Count of Monte Cristo, a copy of her father’s that he’d had when she was just a child. Something had reminded her of it the other day and all she could think about was getting her own so she could annotate in the margins.

As she came across it, she started reaching when someone got to it first, one finger pulling it out by its spine before taking it into their hand. She visibly deflated with a soft sigh as it was the last copy and hung her head in defeat.

“I’m sorry, were you wanting this too?” Her head cocked up and she gazed at the young man before her. He smiled and she felt like she’d been shot in the chest at how dazzling it was. “Here, you can have it.”

Swallowing thickly, she shook her head, “You got it first.” Nodding, she added, “It’s yours.”

He cocked a brow at that. “Well, from the devastated look on your face, doll, you want it to be yours.”

Her cheeks warmed at that, and she felt nervous where she stood, resisting the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. “N-no it’s okay.” She said. “You take it.”

“Oh no you don’t. That’s not how this works.” He chuckled and took her hands, pressing the book into them, then he winked at her. “The doll deserves to have her book.”

If there had ever been a time in which she wanted to explode from embarrassment, it was then, and before she knew it, she shoved the book back into his arms and so hard that it must’ve knocked the wind out of him because he gasped. She spun around and took off down the aisle and out the front doors as fast as she could, wanting nothing more than to disappear in the crowded streets. That or sink into the ground. Maybe next week she’d come back and get the book. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be there again.

***

Then again, her hopes were always wrong, and she picked up the copy of The Divine Comedy, flipping it open to read the first page.

“I see you’re a fan of the classics, aren’t you, doll?”

She snapped the book shut when she heard his voice and looked over at him. Something inside annoyed her at the cocky smirk he wore, much more was the arm he had resting on the top of the bookshelf as he gazed at her.

“You know, you left a nice bruise on me the other week.” He quipped, shifting his weight to cross his ankles. “You’re pretty strong.”

“Thank you,” she muttered, turning to look back at the book. “Sorry I hit you…it was an accident.”

“Well, I can accept your apology if you tell me your name.”

“Why?” she questioned quietly, wiggling her toes.

“Because I wanna put a name to such a cute face. Why else?” he flirted, and she scowled at the book cover. “Oh, that’s an even more adorable face.”

“Quit doing that!” she hissed. “It’s not funny!”

He chuckled. “Oh contraire, it’s actually hilarious.” He took a step towards her. “I’m Jason, by the way.”

Her eyes darted to the outstretched hand, and she stared at it for a split second before softly shaking it. “(Y/N).” she murmured.

Before she could pull her hand back, he raised it and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Enchanté ma chérie,” he professed, breath hot against her skin and just like before, she was so absolutely flustered she was yanking her hand back and poor Jason’s grip slipped, and he whacked himself in the face with his own hand.

“Nice to meet you!” (Y/N) yelped and scurried off down the aisle and to the register where she purchased her book in record time. Third time was the charm and she prayed that he wouldn’t be there again.

***

And whoever lived upstairs must’ve really had it out for her because she flipped the page in her One Thousand and One Arabian Nights and heard an exaggerated cough. Looking up through her eyelashes, she saw Jason standing there with a grin on his face. “Hello (Y/N),” he purred, and she immediately felt her cheeks become hot.

“Hi Jason,” she muttered, gazing at her book, listening to the chair screech as he sat down across from her.

“How are you doing today?” he asked, setting down his own copy of Arabian Nights.

(Y/N) cleared her throat, finding it harder to focus on the book over the smell of his woody and oriental cologne. She thought she smelled a twinge of tobacco with it. “I’m fine.” Her eyes found his teal ones for a moment. “And you?”

He smiled, making her heart pick up a beat. “Doing pretty good.” He winked. “I got to see you again. Though I’m hoping I don’t get hit again. Either by a book or my own fist.”

“Sorry…” she cringed, sinking down in her seat. “That was an accident.”

Jason shrugged and propped his elbows on the table, placing his chin on his fingers. “Don’t worry about it. Say, do you like coffee?”

“I do,” she murmured.

“Great, want anything from the café?” he asked, nodding at the board and she looked over at it.

“I guess I could order a latte,” she replied more to herself than him, starting to pull her wallet out.

“Nah, I got it.” Jason said, standing from his seat.

(Y/N) blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I said I got it.” He quipped and she jumped from her seat to stop him, but caught the leg of her chair, and she flailed, stumbling right into Jason. They went tumbling to the floor and she landed atop him. For a minute they were both stunned silent as the people in the store looked at them and he smirked at her. “Well, this saves me the trouble of asking you out to dinner.” He winked again. “Should’ve told me you had a bold streak, doll.”

She immediately scrambled up, placing one of her hands on his chest to shove off him when her leg slipped, and her knee went into his groin. He groaned and rolled over, holding his crotch and (Y/N) was so mortified all she could do was apologize profusely and at one point she was sure she was mixing up her words, but it didn’t matter. Grabbing her things, she started running off a third time.

Though she’d made it ten feet out of the door and down the street before someone grabbed her round the waist and hauled her to a stop. “Oh no! We’re not doing this pattern again! I am not getting hit a fourth time!”

(Y/N) spun in his arm and gaped at him. “I’m sorry!”

Jason sighed heavily and lowered his head. “Holy crap, I’ve never had such a hard time getting a girl to go out with me.”

“You wanna go out with me?” She pointed to herself despite her flustered state. “W-with me?” she gave him a dubious look. “Really? M-me?”

“Well, if you wanna hit me a fourth time to be sure, go ahead, but yeah,” he retorted then heaved another sigh. “Jeez, talk about getting hit on.”

(Y/N) spluttered at that. “I did not hit on you!”

“Right, you just hit me instead.”

“It was an accident! And I said I was sorry!”

Jason grinned at her and arm away. “Well, I’ll accept your sorry’s if you go on a date with me.”

She blinked at him. “A date? When?”

“Tonight.” He said. “There’s a bookstore down in the town square for insomniacs. Open until seven A.M. and serves a mean cup of hot cocoa.” Jason smiled and took her hand. “So? How ‘bout it, doll? Wanna go out with me tonight?”

All she could do was simply stare at this gorgeous man that obviously had a thing for her for some god forsaken reason. “Why?” she asked blankly, and he seemed to falter at that.

“Why what?” he repeated, confusion etching across his face.

“Why do you wanna go out with me?” (Y/N) gestured to herself. “I’m weird.”

“So am I.” he agreed.

“I stutter a lot.”

“So does my brother.”

“I don’t talk a lot. I don’t like talking a lot. People get mad at me when I talk a lot and I prefer to listen and you’re not going to like going out with me because I’m going to be super quiet because I get flustered easily and I—”

Jason put his hand over her mouth and stared at her. “Do you ever take a breath?” she nodded silently, and he sighed. “Look, (Y/N), it’s only taken getting shoved in the stomach with a book, getting punched with my own hand, and getting nut-shot to understand that you’re not exactly comfortable with the public.”

He removed his hand. “That’s why I invited you to the bookstore. Because even in the few weeks we’ve known each other, I know you like quiet places. But if you don’t feel comfortable going with me right now, that’s okay. We can take it slow.” Jason smiled at her. “Doll, all I wanna be is somebody to you.”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly and looked at her feet, whispering, “I…don’t wanna go out right now…but I’d like to give you my number…if you’re okay with that?” she shrugged. “We can text.” Feeling hopeful she reached out and placed her hang on his arm. “And get to know each other better? Maybe tell each other our favorite books? That’s…the best way in my opinion.”

His face lit up and he murmured, “I’d love that.” He pulled out his phone, tapping at it before he handed it over to her. “Here you go.”

She took it and looked at the contact name he’d already put in. My Flustered Doll. She glared at him. “You think you’re pretty cute, don’t you, Jason? You’re not. At all.”

He smirked. “Oh, is that so?” She nodded and he quipped, “We’ll just see about that then.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and typed in her number, handing him back his phone. “There you go.” He glanced at it, seemingly satisfied before he locked it and put it back in his pocket, then they met each other’s gazes and she awkwardly pointed over her shoulder. “I’m going home now.”

Jason caught her hand and kissed the back of it. “See you later, doll. Stay cute.”

She was hurrying off again, his laughter in her ears, unaware that their exchanging of numbers was going to evolve into so much more in the coming months.

***

“—And I’m pretty sure I can never show my face again at school, Jay. I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life.”

He hummed, fingers gently dipping into her spine. “Well, this is coming from the girl that nut-shotted be in the middle of a busy bookstore.”

“Why would you remind me about that?” (Y/N) scowled. “It was an accident.”

“And yet it can’t be more mortifying than telling a guy to shove his head up his ass.” He retorted, eyes still closed as they basked in the sunlight streaming through the window. “This is at least a five on the ten scale.”

“More like a hundred.” She muttered, tucking her head under his chin. “I can’t believe I said that to him. Oh, I was just so—just so mad at what he said about my poem! He was just being mean!” (Y/N) gripped his sweatshirt. “You understand right?”

Jason nodded, his other hand resting at her hip. “Mhm.”

“You don’t think I’m overreacting, do you?” she frowned. “Everyone else thinks I am.”

“Telling someone that their poetry isn’t good because it isn’t iambic pentameter isn’t following constructive criticism, doll. It’s called being a douche.” She giggled and he bent his neck, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Call me next time Lord Douche-Canoe starts on your poetry again and I’ll school him on face-time.”

(Y/N) giggled again and rolled over, pressing them chest to chest and she grinned when he whined at her moving. “Thank you, Jason.”

He smiled at her. “I only take my thanks in kisses. Sorry, doll.”

Rolling her eyes, she bent down and pressed her lips to his. “I love you,” she murmured against him, and he hummed, hands grasping her hips.

“I love you more.”

“Nonsense.”

“Nonsense?” he scoffed, pulling back to look at her. “I am willingly in a relationship with the girl who nut-shot me in—MMHPF!”

(Y/N) shoved a pillow into his face, face hot as she shouted, “Stop bringing that up! It was an accident!” All she got in return was his laughter.

[storiesforallfandoms]

permanently ~ corpse husband

word count: 1456

request?: yes!

“Corpse husband x female reader. The reader is corpse wife but they keep there really private only a few people know that corpse is married, one day people start asking corpse if he is seeing someone and corpse doesn’t know if he wants to reveal he’s married because he worried she will get hate so he talks to the reader about it and his worries and the reader comforts him about his worries. Later corpse reveals in a video that hes married and everyone really happy and supportive of his marriage.”

description: in which he reveals a surprising secret to his fans after months of questions about his love life

pairing: corpse x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

It started when his fans heard her speak during a stream.

Corpse had been careful to keep his love life a secret for so long. He loved his fans, but he knew that if he even gave the slightest indication that he was seeing someone, the more extreme of his fanbase would go looking for her. He didn’t want any hate messages sent her way, she didn’t deserve any of that.

They had been so careful. (Y/N) would stay away from Corpse’s streaming room while he was streaming, or she’d sit next to him and make zero noise. Luckily, (Y/N) wasn’t famous, so they were able to share pictures and videos on her private social media accounts.

She had slightly pushed open the door to his streaming room one night, trying her best to make as little noise as possible in case his mic was on. Corpse noticed her from the corner of his eyes and turned to look at her.

“Mic off?” she whispered. Corpse chuckled and nodded. “I sent you a text but you didn’t respond. I’m gonna go get something to eat, do you want anything picked up?”

“I’m good for now, thank you.”

(Y/N) smiled and crossed the room to give him a kiss before leaving again.

For the half hour she was gone, (Y/N) lived in ignorant bliss, unaware of the chaos happening online.

When she got home, she found her husband pacing the kitchen. Concern was written all over his face, and it deepened when (Y/N) walked through the front door.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“The mic wasn’t off,” he said.

(Y/N) knew what he meant immediately, but she still couldn’t help but ask, “What?”

“When you came in during my stream, I thought I had shut my mic off, but I didn’t. My viewers heard us talking, and they heard us kiss. The chat went wild and it’s trending on Twitter already; #corpsesmysterywoman.”

(Y/N) grabbed her phone and went into Twitter. It was the top trend and it was flooded with tweets that ran from shocked to supportive and happy to, of course, hateful.

“On the plus side,” she started, “they’ll never be able to identify me just by my voice.”

“Doesn’t mean they won’t try.”

(Y/N) sighed as she watched Corpse start to bite his fingers, something he did whenever his anxiety ran high. She felt bad for him. He shouldn’t have to worry about his fans having a negative reaction about their marriage, and he definitely shouldn’t feel like he was to blame if his fans found her, which she knew he would.

(Y/N) touched Corpse’s shoulder, causing him to stop and look up at her. She took his hands in hers, wiping away the blood he had drawn.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “We’ll get through this. Besides, I’m a big girl. I can handle this if anything happens.”

Corpse nodded. “I know, I just didn’t want you to be brought into this.”

“It was bound to happen eventually. Could’ve been worse.”

Corpse wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. She hugged him back, dreading the next time he’d have to go online.

~~~~~~

A week passed and the buzz around Corpse’s “mystery woman” did not die down. The hashtag trended for two days, and his fans were still speculating on Twitter. Corpse took some time off social media in hopes it would all blow over, but it became evident very soon that it would not. Everyone was still tweeting him about it, and it even began to escalate to people would ask Corpse’s friends during their streams.

Enough was enough, and Corpse decided it was time to address the issue.

He announced he would be doing a Q&A stream on his Twitter. Within seconds, the stream was trending.

(Y/N) sat on the floor next to Corpse’s chair as he set his stream up. She could see he was shaking with anxiety over the situation. She put a hand on his leg, bringing his attention to her.

“It’ll be okay,” she assured him. “I promise.”

Corpse gave her the best smile he could muster. He laced his fingers through hers, trying to calm himself down. Before he could back out of it, he started the stream.

The chat flooded with questions immediately, most of which were asking about her. Corpse was able to avoid these questions for as long as he could, until someone donated a super chat question specifically asking about Corpse’s relationship status.

“Are you taken?” he read. “Well, I guess I can’t get around it now. The answer is yes, I am taken, and I am taken permanently.”

The chat went wild at this. Corpse’s hands began to shake again and (Y/N) squeezed the one she was holding, trying to look up at him sympathetically. His attention was focused on the screen in front of him, trying to get the words out the best he could.

“The truth is, I was seeing someone for a long time. She isn’t a content creator or famous in any way, so I wanted to keep our relationship to ourselves. We’ve made it public with her friends and family, but as far as my YouTube life goes, I wanted to keep it a secret. At first it was because I didn’t want to announce the relationship and have it go south and we break up, but the longer we kept it a secret the more I knew I wanted it that way because it was just another aspect of my life I thought would be better to keep to myself. I didn’t want to bring her into a spotlight that she didn’t want, and honestly, I didn’t want any of my fans to know who she was.

“And marriage...well, it wasn’t something I ever expected to happen to me. We weren’t even dating all that long when we both got drunk one night and I just...I asked her. We both laughed it off at the time, but the next morning when we sobered up I realized I still wanted to marry her. So I asked her again, promised her I’d get her a ring when I could, and she said yes. Flash forward about a year and...I’m a married man.”

(Y/N) leaned her head against Corpse’s leg and smiled up at him. Through his nervousness and anxiety, she could see him reminiscing on the history of their relationship, the way she liked to do sometimes. Especially on the hilarious story of their engagement.

“I won’t be giving any more details besides that,” he said. “I will not stream with her if she does not feel comfortable, I will not be publicly stating her real name, I certainly won’t be posting her face on any of my social media. Especially without her permission as she has already said she doesn’t really want a life in the public eye. I am sorry I kept this from you all for so long, but I hope you can understand my reasoning, and I hope you will all treat my wife with respect. That’s all I really want.”

He continued with the Q&A. After enough time had passed for that information to sink in, you decided to check Twitter to see what the reaction had been. The top trend, within a matter of minutes, was #wearehappyforcorpse. The hashtag was flooded with kind messages congratulating Corpse on getting married and on finding the one. A few people were sharing Corpse’s wishes and warning the extreme fans not to go looking for whoever Corpse’s wife was until one of them made her identity public. There was very little negativity and, although (Y/N) had told Corpse this would likely be the case, she was relieved to know that it actually was.

When the stream ended, (Y/N) could almost physically see the weight that had been lifted off Corpse’s shoulders. She stood from the floor to sit on his lap. He took her in his arms and buried his head in her shoulder, letting out a long sigh of relief.

“That went well,” she said. “Almost like I said it would.”

“Don’t say I told you so,” Corpse said, lifting his head to smile at her. “Although, I also knew it would go fine.”

“Even if it went different, we would’ve dealt with it together. That’s what married couples do.”

Corpse leaned forward and kissed her gently. (Y/N) smiled as she broke away and kissed the tip of his nose.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” he said.

“You are.”

Corpse chuckled and playfully squeezed her as he kissed over her neck and face.

[cryingoverafictionalcharacter]

Pinky Promise

Summary: Fred and Y/N have been rivals for a while, but no matter if it was pranks, or quidditch or something else, they always had their limits to not hurt the other. In fact, for the past few months Y/N and Fred have been growing closer, and even developing feelings for each other, but everything changes when one of Fred's pranks go to far, and he needs to find a way to fix it to save their relationship.

Warnings: Swearing, Fred being kind of a dick, Reader getting angry, confrontation, some angst, kind of a lot of angst actually, ends in major fluff though, also humor because I may not not how to spell but I’m hilarious.

Word count: 2.7K

A/N: comin at cha with ANOTHER ENEMIES TO LOVERS FRED WEALSEY FIC??? Why am I so uncreative? Idk, anyways I hope you enjoy!

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You were beyond furious. You didn’t think there was a strong enough word to describe how angry you were, and you were pretty sure if you were any angrier steam would be coming out of your ears. And the reason for all this anger you may ask?

Fred Fucking Weasley

You stormed through the hallway, heading straight to the dining hall. It was late, and you barely anybody would be in there, but you knew he would be. 

You stopped in the doorway, scanning over the tables until your eyes landed on a familiar mop of red hair. Locking your eyes on your target, you stomped over, clutching your bag tightly in your right hand.

“Oh shit- what did you do this time?” You heard Lee whisper to Fred, as you got closer, but you paid him no mind, eyes locking with Fred’s, who had that same stupid smirk that he always did. It made your blood boil.

“Good evening love, how’s your night going?” Fred asked nonchalantly, as if you were friends and not life long enemies.

“I have to say, it was going quite well, until I found this” You seethed, slamming your bag onto the table in front of him. “Say, does this bag look familiar to you?”

“Nope, can’t say it does” Fred shrugged, but the glimmer in his eye said differently.

“Really? Why don’t you take a closer look” You insisted, grabbing the bag off the table, flipping open the top, and flipping it upside-down, causing an eruption of water to fall from the mouth of the bag.

The water continued for what felt like forever, pieces of paper and pens falling out with it as the contents emptied out onto the floor, soaking yours and Fred’s shoes, but neither of you made a move.

After the water had finally stopped, you threw the bag into his lap, causing him to look down at it, a thoughtful hand on his chin.

“You know, now that I’m looking more closely at it, it does look a bit familiar” He said simply, and judging by the nervous looks on George, and Lee’s face when they saw you, you for sure had steam coming out of your ears now, but you kept your composure.

“Oh, well that’s good. You see, I’m trying to solve a bit of a mystery of who could have done this. Would you have any ideas?” You asked, crossing your arms in front of you.

By now, most of the cafeteria had cleared out. They have seen you and Fred get into heated arguments before. But this was different.

This was going to be fatal.

“No clue, but I have to say whoever thought of it is a bloody genius” He complimented, giving you a grin.

“Genius you say? So you think, flooding my one bag, and ruining all my homework, as well as my ten page essay that I’ve been working on all month, that’s due tomorrow... is Genius?” You asked, the calmness in your voice adding a coldness to the room that shot straight to everyone's bones.

And judging by the now terrified face Fred wore, he was feeling the effects of your voice as well.

“Oh, I see there's been a mix up, I’m actually George-”

“You are fucking not! Don't get me caught up in this” George interrupted, standing along with Lee to flee the scene 

“So sorry about him, Y/N, he can’t be helped. Try not to go to hard on him-” Lee started, but a quick glance his way shut him up instantly “Actually on second thought, do what you see fit, see ya Fred”

With that, George and Lee practically sprinted out of the dining hall, leaving you standing over Fred, who suddenly felt very small.

“I swear, I had no idea your essay was in there, if I had known I wouldn’t have-” Fred started apologizing, but was quickly cut off when your hand slammed down on the table beside you.

“You see Fred” You said, taking a seat on the bench next to him. “I think you did know. We’re in the same class, you’ve seen me working my ass off trying to get this essay done, and you’ve even asked for my notes, which I refused because of this kind of shit you pull” 

Fred swallowed thickly, his heart beating out of his chest at your anger. He had seen you angry before, and he’s been cross with you a few times as well, but those died down fairly quickly, and most of the time there weren't to many hard feelings. And you were right, he had seen you working on that essay, both in class, and at two in the morning in the library.

“Now” You continued “We’ve had out little quarrels in the past, you prank me, I prank you, you hit me with a quaffle at quidditch, I hit one back at you, nothing too serious. But this” She paused, picking a sopping wet pile of papers off the floor, and plopping it in front of him “Is really really fucking low. Did you know, I was already failing this class?”

The question put Fred on the spot, and he felt his heart sink to his stomach. He had always known you to be extremely smart and quick minded, so to hear you weren't doing so well in that class came as a surprise.

“Yeah, I’m failing because, fun fact, I’m fucking exhausted. I’m staying up till three in the morning every night, trying to get caught up in classes. I’m writing back and forward to my family constantly because they’re going through financial problems again, Umbridge is constantly writing me up for no reason, and on top of all of that, I still need to be worried about this” 

Your voice was beginning to shake a bit, and you both knew you were about to cry, but you were determined to keep the tears in until you were done. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“So... Fred, consider this little rival, or fight, or whatever the fuck this is, over. I’m done, you win, just please, for the love of fuck, leave me alone” 

With that, you stood up and left the dining hall, quickly wiping the stay tear that snuck out on your way. All the while, Fred sat in shocked silence. He had always seen your little back and forwards as friendly competition, and had even thought they were a bit flirty at times. In fact, you two had been getting a bit closer these last few months, and had even started hanging out as friends. But now, he had royally fucked that up, and he needed to fix it.

The next day, you were exhausted. You had spent a lot of the night crying, which you hated but all the pent up emotions just came flooding out. Yes, you were absolutely pissed at Fred, but most of all, you were hurt. In the last few months, you’re arguments had died down a bit, and you found yourselves hanging out from time to time, always accidentally, but you enjoyed his company none the less.

You had even begun to like him a bit, maybe even more than a friend. He was nice, and charming, and wicked funny, and always tried to make you smile, but now, after seeing how careless, and almost mean he had been, you knew you needed to shove those feelings down. So you did. 

Your first class was potions, which of course you had with Fred. He sat behind you, and for a while, he made the class bearable, passing notes back and forward. But now you were absolutely dreading it.

Fred was sat in his usual seat, waiting for you to walk in. He had come in early, hoping to get the chance to talk to you, but when you walked in just as class began, he knew he would need to try a different approach.

Not even five minutes into the class, you felt a piece of paper land beside your elbow on your desk. You looked down, finding a folded up piece of paper, which you immediately knew was Fred's.

You could feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your head, but instead of turning around, you simply flicked the paper off your desk, returning your gaze to the chalkboard. A few minutes later, another piece of paper, this time on top of your notebook. Again, you flicked it off. 

Finally, five pieces of paper later, you smacked your quill down and picked up the newest piece of paper from your desk, unfolding it and looking it over, Fred watching you closely as you did

Can we please talk? I’m sorry

You finally turned around to meet the boys gaze, his eyes instantly lighting up at the change, but his spirits quickly fell when he saw your face, not angry, or frustrated, but sad.

You had had enough, facing the boy, you placed the paper back onto his own desk right as the professor dismissed the class, quickly slipping out of the room before Fred could follow you.

You avoided him like the plague the rest of the day. You didn’t have many other classes with him, and the ones you did share you made sure to find an empty seat far away from him, you even skipped lunch, choosing instead to read in your next class. 

You even skipped the class where your essay was due, not wanting to show up and hand over nothing, you decided to spend the rest of the day alone, and try to redo your assignment, even if you now only had a day to do it.

Fred only saw you again after class by the forbidden forest. He had found you pretty easily, you weren’t in any of your usual spots, so he knew this would be the next best spot to check. As he approached you, he found you had changed out of your uniform and were now in some joggers and a sweatshirt, sitting with your back against a rock as you scribbled in the notebook in front of you.

You chewed your lip as you tried to rewrite your essay, looking to your textbook and back every few second, before messing up on a word. Frustrated, you scribbled out the paragraph you had been working on and threw your notebook and quill to the side, resting your elbows on your knees as you held your head in your hands.

You quickly snapped out of it though when someone behind you cleared their throat, getting your attention and making you jump out of your skin. Panic surged through you, expecting a teacher, or worse, Umbridge, but the fear was soon replaced by irritation when you made eye contact with none other than the very red head you had spent all day trying to avoid.

“What do you want Fred?” You asked, turning back to face the forbidden forest, away from him. 

He didn’t answer, instead you were met with the sound of grass shuffling beneath his feet as he got closer, taking a seat before holding something out to you, causing you to look over at him.

It was your bag from yesterday, but now completely fixed and dry. It looked like brand new. 

You took the bag from him and looked it over, going over the seams and the straps before finally opening it, finding your notebooks, pens, and homework assignments all neatly tucked inside.

“How did you- When did-” you rambled trying to find the words and you shuffled through your belongings, finding them all intact and dry before finally turning to look at him “Why did you do this for me?”

Fred wasn’t expecting that question, but he still answered, looking down at the grass.

“I felt really bad after yesterday, and not just because of that stuff you... anyway, I know I went too far, and I shouldn't have done it in the first place, but I wanted to have a reason to talk to you I guess, and I did it in the worst way possible, and I wanted to make it up to you. I’m sorry”

You looked at him, before turning back to the bag, noticing there was something missing, but before you could say anything Fred continued.

“I was also able to save your essay, it took a while but it was all there. I was going to give it to you in class, but you didn’t show up so I turned it in for you and said you were sick. I got to read some of it by the way, its really good and I would be surprised if you-”

Fred was cut off by you moving your bag to the side and turning to face him, wrapping your arms around him to pull him into a hug. 

Fred was too shocked to move for a second, but quickly found himself returning the embrace, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you closer. You sat like that for a minute, your face buried in his neck as a thousand emotions flooded over you. Finally, you pulled away, looking him in the eye.

“I’m not saying I’m not entirely grateful” you started “But you could have just come and talked to me, why did you feel you needed to do that to talk to me?”

At this, Fred’s face began to heat up a bit and he looked back down, fiddling with the grass. He was hoping to fix your friendship and move on, maybe one day growing to be something more, but now he was faced with the choice to tell you his feelings, or lie, and he didn’t want to deny it anymore.

“We’ve always had our little competitions and stuff, ever since we were kids, and for a while we really hated each other. But then, these last few months I got to know you a lot more, and I always knew you were funny, but you’ve got a wicked sense of humor, and you’re super smart, and are always helping people, and you’re always kind to everyone you meet, and I thought I might have had a crush or something. And I didn’t really know how to interact with you in a not competition way, and I didn’t want to freak you out, but after the bag, seeing how it hurt you, it broke me. And I realized that I liked you a lot more than I thought I did”

Fred looked up at you, waiting for your reaction. Were you angry, upset, happy? Your face wasn’t giving him any signs, but then, a small smile crept to your lips, and despite how hard you tried to fight it.

You laughed.

“I’m sorry” You started, trying to fight the laughter bubbling in your chest “I’m not laughing at you, I’m not, it’s just-” Another laugh. “God were just a bunch of idiots aren't we?”

Fred was looking at you like you’d gone crazy

“What do you mean?”

“I like you too dumb ass” You confessed.

“You... oh... Oh!” Fred exclaimed, finally putting the pieces together. “Wow, I really fucked up didn’t I”

“Oh for sure” you nodded, causing Fred to let out a groan, shaking his head before looking back to you, a smile on his face.

Without thinking, you leaned forward, closing the rest of the space between you and pressing your lips to his. Fred returned the action, bringing a hand to the back of your neck to pull you in closer, deepening the kiss.

After a few seconds, you both pulled away, each with goofy smiles on your faces.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Fred asked.

“Only if you promise to never do it again” you said

“Deal” Fred answered quickly, holding out his pinky to you, which you wrapped your own pinky around, shaking on the agreement.

“Wow a pinky promise, that's some hard core shit” You joked in a serious tone.

“Hey, if it means I get to spend more time with you, I’d pinky promise to anything” Fred replied, to which you gave him a feigned shocked expression.

“Anything?! Aww, you like me like me” you teased, laughing as Fred playfully pushed your shoulder.

“Shut up you like me like me too” Fred argued

“That is true” you nodded, before smiling and grabbing the front of his shirt, pulling him into another kiss, smiling as he pulled you even closer.

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A/N: Heeey, so I was hit with the biggest surge of motivation today and I literally got two weeks of homework done, deep clean my room, and wrote this, so if I go dark for a few months its probably because I’ve used my adrenaline budget for the year lol.

But seriously, I know this fic gets a bit... deep ig? Idk, I’ve been going through it recently and I wanted some angst that would actually reflect how I would react in that situation if you know what I mean? Like I see a long of angsts where the love interest does something really mean, but a simple apology solves everything and yeah. No hate if that’s your writing style, its just not my thing, and I wanted to express my emotions through here, because nobody directly fucked up an entire month of my work but it certainly feels that way sometimes.

Anyways, rant over, I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave any feedback or recommendations you may have.

[aminiatureworld]

Irrational

Characters: Ganyu, Jean, Keqing, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,100

Warnings: Alcohol

Premise: Emotions aren’t always rational, a fact easy enough to ignore when one is happy or in love, or in any similar situation. However more negative aspects aren’t always as easy to ignore.

In which the reader’s s/o is jealous.

Author’s Note: This is our welcome for Jean! I have to admit she was really enjoyable to write. Especially in a prompt such as this, my guilty pleasure trope.

Not proofread because I’m tired will do so tomorrow.

Ganyu

Relationships were still something that often eluded Ganyu. Friendships, work dynamics, love, they all spun around in her head, and though she sometimes found her bearings, relationships still felt like walking on a tightrope high above a dark and churning sea.

These thoughts and feelings still lingered in her mind, even now when her relationship with you was rock solid she still worried. Ganyu was a mess of repressed emotions; isolated from most of humanity she still felt the need to be absolutely perfect near you, to never let her emotions get the best of her, to be the best partner one can be.

Which is why she hated those stupid love notes.

They’d started arriving about a year and a half into your relationship. At first you’d thought it was from her, but your look of happiness quickly turned to one of embarrassment and slight discomfort when she revealed she had no idea who was leaving little gifts and notes at your desk. Although you made a point to get rid of them as soon as you’d read the contents of the letter they still kept coming, and every day Ganyu saw one of those pink little envelopes on your desk she grew more and more irritated.

And yet Ganyu still didn’t want to tell you, for she was afraid that you would think she was suspecting you in some ways. You couldn’t control what was going on after all, why should she burden you with her fears, with the emotions that threatened to squeeze all the air out of her lungs and tear her thoughts to shreds. No, she wouldn’t burden you with this, she’d take care of it herself. You wouldn’t want to be bothered with her stupidity anyways, it’d only cause more problems.

“I really don’t understand who’s doing this.” You groaned, entering the office one morning to the sight of a rose on your desk, the telltale envelope attached to the stem with a red ribbon. Walking over to it, dragging your feet in a way that made Ganyu, who had been standing behind you, giggle you tore open the letter in one nonchalant movement.

“What does it say?” Ganyu kept her voice as soft as possible, trying desperately to ignore the emotions that were threatening to cut off her throat. How long was this going to go on?

“Oh listen to this,” you scoffed, turning towards Ganyu, a wry sort of smile plastered across your face, “my dear friend – as if whoever this creep is would ever be a friend of mine. I noticed recently that you’ve become quite close to the secretary of the Liyue Qixing. I would never question your decisions – oh of course not – but I find that work romances never last. Perhaps if we were to meet I could explain to you why, though I’m sure you already know the reasons yourself and would never dream in participating in such a thing. Still, I await you reply. Sincerely, your secret admirer.”

With a flourish you bowed, before promptly chucking the letter in the trash. “Well at least they seem finally to be catching on to the fact I’m disinterested. Honestly though, I don’t know what this person is thinking. I really ought to complain to the department, see if they can’t find out why this is happening.”

“I agree,” Ganyu couldn’t help but let disgust fill her voice, “this is harassment. You really ought to tell someone about it.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, before sighing. “I’d hate to be a pain though…”

“You aren’t!” Ganyu shook her head, indignant at the insinuation. “Protecting yourself isn’t being a pain. This isn’t merely distracting, it’s concerning. You deserve better.”

“Thank you Ganyu.” You smiled; glancing around to make sure no one was there you gave her a soft peck on the cheek. “You’re always looking out for me.”

“Of course I am!” Ganyu replied, her face burning slightly. “I love you.” She added softly.

“I love you too.” You smiled. Sitting down you glanced at the rose as if it were a weapon rather than a flower. “A pity they keep sending flowers, I hate to throw out the poor things.” Hesitating you took it in your hands, smiling sheepishly as you stuffed it into your desk drawer. Ganyu smiled back, attempted to ignore the small twinge of annoyance that rattled in her and whispered that she should burn the reminder of her suffering.

The two of you had worked later than usual that day, and it showed the next morning as you failed to show up at your usual spot. Although Ganyu might’ve normally waited for you, today she glanced around her before quickening her pace as she made her way towards the Qixing headquarters. This was the opportunity she’d been waiting for, and though she felt slightly bad about sneaking around behind your back she was also at her wits’ end, and if she wasn’t going to tell you then she was surely going to figure out once and for all what was going on.

The door had been left open by the last person who entered, and Ganyu wrinkled her nose at the irresponsibility of such a thing before walking inside herself. The office was mostly dark, and the contrast of your light being the only one visible throughout the hallway immediately put her on high alert.

Her suspicions were justified when she walked through the door. A man was standing at the edge of your desk. In one hand was a bouquet of flowers and in the other was an all too familiar note. Although Ganyu might’ve normally been merely frightened and appalled she now found herself more angry than anything else, and her words were spat out with a vehemence she hadn’t entirely known she’d possessed.

“What in Teyvat do you think you’re doing here?” She asked, voice shaking slightly. The man jolted and turned around, relazing when he saw who it was. That was a mistake.

“Ah it’s the secretary,” His smile was mocking and the way he bobbed his head made it clear he thought nothing of the half-adeptus in front of him. “I was wondering who would catch me eventually. Didn’t expect it to be the Tianquan’s personal servant.”

“Answer my question.” Ganyu spoke once more, completely unfazed by the insults of a man who was so utterly loathsome. “What are you doing here.”

“You’re rather dull aren’t you,” the man’s tone was a dismissive as before, “I didn’t realize this needed any explanation. I think it’s very clear that I’m here to deliver something to this office’s owner.”

“Do you even know their name?” If Ganyu hadn’t been so angered perhaps she would’ve found the man’s expression hilarious. He seemed to be completely malfunctioning.

“Of course I know it!” He finally let out. “It’s written on the plaque outside the door if you’ve forgotten. But I doubt you would. You seem awfully close to them recently.”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Oh but it is.” The man’s smile was utterly enraging. “They’re very important to me after all.”

“They aren’t even aware of your existence.” Ganyu spat. Approaching closer she drew herself up as tall as she could. “They’d never have anything to do with someone as worthless and creepy as you.”

“What exactly am I doing that’s creepy?” The man backed away slightly, slight panic mixing with defensiveness. “I’m only showing them how much I care for them! What’s wrong with that? You’re just jealous aren’t you. You want them for yourself, don’t you. Well you can’t have them, because they’re mine.”

“They don’t belong to anyone.” Ganyu replied, voice made soft and hoarse from the anger burning in her chest and pounding in her ears. “And if you can’t see that then you’re even worse a person than I thought you could be. You may think them something to possess, and you worthy to possess them; but in reality you’re lower than dirt and they owe you nothing, not even the air you breathe. You should leave now. You may have no respect for privacy, or rank, or profession. But the Liyue Qixing are nowhere close to incompetent. And if you value a life not spend in total societal isolation or, Morax forbid, behind bars, I suggest you never return.”

“You really ought to listen to her.” Your voice was music to Ganyu’s ears after what had just passed. Turning her head slightly she saw you leaning against the door, a grim smile painted across your face. “She’s the person in this office least likely to simple chuck you out the window.”

Gulping slightly the man finally moved. Shooting one last glare at both you and Ganyu he scuttled out into the hallway. Only when she heard the front door close did Ganyu breathe a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” She said, flushed with embarrassment and the lingering anger she felt. “I shouldn’t’ve threatened them, or lost my temper like that.”

“You were utterly in your right.” You smiled. “In fact you were quite gallant if I do say so myself!”

“I lost control of myself,” Ganyu shook her head, “I wasn’t thinking about doing the right thing, or protecting you. I wasn’t thinking of anything. I was only angry. Angry and… well I don’t know.”

“Jealous?” You suggested. Flushing, Ganyu glanced at the ground.

“Maybe.” She whispered.

The half-adeptus glanced up in surprise as you wrapped you arms around her. After a while she returned the gesture, and for a while there was simply silence as you two basked in each other’s presence.

“You shouldn’t feel bad about being jealous.” You spoke after a while. “Every feels jealous sometimes, it’s completely normal. And in this case it was positively valiant! Even if you weren’t thinking of me, you still stood up for me. And I couldn’t be more grateful.”

“I lost my temper.” Ganyu was stubborn in her conviction that what she’d done was wrong. Lessons that she’d taught herself about displaying her emotions passed through her thoughts. “It’s not good to be jealous. I’ll only end up pushing you away if I keep losing myself to my emotions.”

“Being jealous is only a problem when it spirals out of control,” you replied, “being offended at the way someone speaks about your partner, or disliking the fact your partner is getting sent weird letters every day is something that any normal person would be jealous about. Even if the person turned out to be such a lout like that one.”

“You aren’t angry?” Ganyu ventured, still skeptical. You drew away slightly so she could see your face. You were smiling brightly.

“Not a bit.”

“Good.” Ganyu smiled back.

You nodded your head. Apparently satisfied you moved to grab the stuff you’d left in the doorway. Still somewhat unsure Ganyu walked over to you.

“Um, can I ask something?”

“Sure!” You replied. “Anything.”

“Um… can you get rid of the rose in your desk?”

You paused for a moment before giggling. Walking over to your desk you took out the offending flower, opening the window and throwing it out onto the lawn.

“There we go.” You turned around. “I’m sorry if that was making you uncomfortable. Tell me next time you’re feeling jealous, alright?”

“Okay.” Ganyu whispered.

Relationships were confusing. So many invisible lines that one might trip over. Still Ganyu would gladly learn where the lines were in regards to you. For she loved you. So very much.

Jean

Jean didn’t like work parties at the best of times, but now it was all she could do not to scream as she watched the young knight next to you begin to break into verse, proclaiming to all the – hopefully blacked out – knights around you that he loved only you.

Normally Jean was pretty dismissive of the antics of her coworkers. Being the Acting Grand Master she saw it as her duty never to be too punishing, always aware not only of the power she held in such a position, but also of the respect that she had garnered, that she had worked tirelessly for. The Knights of Favonius, from the highest ranked captain to the lowest foot soldier, was comprised up of well meaning, enthusiastic workers. Despite all their faults she cared deeply about them all, and could often sidesteps their antics as the result of their camaraderie.

This time however felt different. Even if Jean knew full well that the knight probably meant nothing serious by it, knew that he was simply drunk and having a good time, she still couldn’t help the coil of emotions that wound taught into her stomach. Scowling slightly into her drink she cursed herself. Maybe she was the tipsy one, for only a fool would be jealous in a situation like this.

“Feeling already Grand Master?” Kaeya’s voice was as cheerful and as unassuming as usual, not at all revealing the fact that he should’ve been utterly plastered. Now he simply sat down across from his irritated coworker, taking another swig before glancing over towards what was capturing Jean’s attention.

“What do you want Kaeya?” Jean asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from its obvious ending. Kaeya was currently the only member of the knights who knew of the relationship between the two of you, and though he took that honor very seriously he was also quick to tease, something made only worse by his current state.

“Ah I see what’s going on.” Kaeya smirked, refusing to cooperate. “What’s going on here? A lover’s quarrel perhaps. No. Our dear adventurer seems hardly happy with the situation. What could it be then?” He let out a sudden gasp. “Is our dear knight jealous?”

“Neither they nor I are ‘our dear’ anything.” Jean pointed out, rolling her eyes. “And I’m hardly jealous. Only pitying the poor soul for the embarrassment he’s going to feel tomorrow if he or anyone in his regiment remembers this.”

“Ahh, I see.” Kaeya replied, tone of voice making it plenty obvious that he didn’t believe Jean one bit. Shooting him a dirty look Jean sighed, once more raising the beer she was drinking to her lips. She didn’t much like beer really, but it was sort of the signature drink of Mondstadt – unless you were rich enough to afford Dandelion Wine on the regular, which few were – and Jean felt the compulsion to blend in with those around her in taste and in manner. Although in this case it was becoming difficult to do so.

Was she jealous? Although Jean would like to say surely not she wasn’t so naïve or so optimistic. She knew very well that she was jealous, but there really was no reason to be so. It felt somewhat below her, to be so blatantly upset by this pseudo-flirtation. Wasn’t she more aware, more mature than that? The answer became very clear when the knight stopped his verbal rambling and attempted, somewhat unsuccessfully, to grab your hand.

“Sir Heinrich.” Jean’s voice had taken on the authority that she rarely liked to use in casual company. “Might I ask you to control yourself in the presence of our guest.”

Heinrich, apparently not so drunk as to be unable to read the now somewhat tense room, immediately and somewhat dramatically, snapped into attention. “G-Grand Master Jean! Yes, of course! I’m so sorry.” Bowing quickly he promptly burst into tears and, proclaiming that he’d betrayed his Grand Master, was dragged outside by some friends, hopefully to sleep off his inebriation.

The tone of the party quickly returned to its jovial origins, anyone still in attendance at 3:00 was either Jean, you, Kaeya, or too drunk to care about what had just happened. Jean, however, was somewhat surprised, and extremely embarrassed, by her sudden outburst. Sinking down on the stool next to you she put her head in her hands.

“I’m going to have to apologize for that tomorrow.” She sighed. Glancing over towards you she reached out her hand, which you quickly took, palm sliding gently into hers. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be! I don’t mind a bit of flattery, but that was becoming… a bit much.” You let out a giggle, the glass next to you an indicator that you were probably a bit tipsy yourself. “Besides, you’re very cute when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous!” Jean scoffed, blushing slightly. “You and Kaeya I swear, incorrigible.”

“How am I not surprised he picked up on it too,” you laughed, smiling fondly. “I don’t mind it, at least not in cases like this. By all means, be as jealous as you want.”

“I’m not jealous.” Jean insisted, shaking her head violently.

Laughing you leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the head, ignoring the scandalized gasps from the remaining crowd.

“Whatever you say, my dear knight in shining armor.”

Jean let out a nervous giggle. What was she going to do with you, now that she loved you so much.

Keqing

Keqing wanted to make it very clear that she never became jealous. Absolutely not, under no circumstances.

She had more respect for herself after all, more respect for you. It was below your relationship to be worried over something such as jealousy, and Keqing for her part resolved never to lower herself to such a level, even if you were somewhat more dismissive of the idea than she was.

“Jealousy is an emotion,” you explained when she asked you why you were so cavalier in regards to the notion, “and since I know both you and I are hardly likely to spin out of control if it were to happen, I don’t really find the idea repulsive.”

“You’re very strange.” Had been all Keqing could respond, not wanting to argue with you about it. It would never happen anyhow. No point in fighting about it.

Now Keqing was somewhat regretting that statement as she watched the woman next to you chatter away while she stood, still as a rock, trying desperately to bite back the retorts that were running through her mind at everything this random lady was telling you.

“It really is such a pleasure to see you again!” You smiled at the woman, some friend of yours and, from what Keqing gathered, a long forgotten one at that. “It’s really been too long.”

“I agree!” The woman replied eagerly, her smile so syrupy that Keqing was surprised it wasn’t melting in the sun. “We really must go out for coffee and catch up.”

“Absolutely!” You nodded, ignoring the stare that Keqing was now focusing on you. “Maybe sometime in the summer?”

“Sounds like a plan! Now excuse me, I have to go.” The woman smiled. Nodding towards Keqing, evidently she wasn’t completely oblivious, she waved before walking away. Waving back you turned around towards your partner, a smile on your face.

“Thanks for stopping for me, I realize that took a little while.”

“It was nothing.” Keqing’s voice was sharp and flat, and she ignored your puzzled look as she turned back towards the Qixing headquarters, determined to forget this entire conversation, and the dark emotions it had managed to dredge up.

The rest of the day was somewhat quiet, though Keqing could tell you wanted to talk about your old friend. She knew that she was being exceedingly rude by ignoring your cues, but she couldn’t help it. The whole situation made her uncomfortable, and she didn’t know how to process that. If she admitted it you’d just chock it up to jealousy and not only would she feel somewhat invalidated, but she’d have to deal with the knowledge that all her boasting had been for nothing. Or, to be more explicit, that she’d been wrong.

“Want to have dinner together?” Keqing glanced at the clock on her desk. The day had long ended, and now it was just the two of you.

“Gladly.” She smiled at you, getting up from her chair. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

“No worries!” You waved your hand. “I wanted to spend some time with you anyways.” Unlike you did earlier today? Keqing bit the retort back. It would be cruel to say that, and somewhat revealing. Besides she really did want to walk home with you, and wouldn’t taint the experience with her own emotional turmoil.

The walk was a lovely one, for the day had been somewhat hot and now a cool breeze brought in by the sea blew lazily. You were discussing one of the transactions you’d had to check, when Keqing spied your friend up ahead. Before she could change your course the lady noticed the two of you however. Calling your name she waved her hand wildly. Distracted from your conversation you waved back, running up ahead and leaving Keqing behind in the dust.

“Fancy meeting you here again!” You exclaimed. “I was just walking home from work.”

“I was stopping by one of the stalls.” Your friend gestured towards the temporary structure behind her. “I forgot to buy groceries, so I suppose it’s grilled Tiger Fish tonight.”

“It happens to the best of us.” You laughed. Keqing couldn’t stand the atmosphere anymore. The conversation was insipid, the participant who’d brought it up even more so. Unable to stop her frustration Keqing walked, or rather stomped, over towards you. Huffing slightly she grabbed your hand. Turning around your face betrayed surprise, but it was quickly replaced once more with a smile. “Ah, I almost forgot. Lily, this is Keqing!”

“Oh, a pleasure to meet you!” The woman, Lily apparently, smiled. “Are you coworkers?” Keqing felt a flicker of resentment at not being directly addressed. Surely she didn’t need a translator.

“My partner.” You corrected, smiling and squeezing Keqing’s hand, something which did little to relieve the tension she felt.

“I see.” Your friend smiled her saccharine smile. “Nice to meet you Keqing.”

“Pleasure.” Keqing replied, not bothering to keep the irritation out of her voice, after all wasn’t she known for being blunt? “Now we really ought to get going, if we aren’t going to be eating in the middle of the night.”

“Sorry for dashing on you,” you apologized, something which Keqing deemed completely unnecessary. “See you around.”

“See you around!” Lily replied. As she turned back to the stall Keqing started moving again, half dragging you through the streets and to her apartment.

Finally arriving home Keqing breathed a sigh of relief. This, however, was quite short lived.

“What was that all about?” There was amusement in your voice, and though Keqing was glad you didn’t seem irritated with her, she certainly wasn’t happy about the mischief in your smile.

“It was getting late.” She replied curtly. “I’d rather not be cooking dinner in the dark.”

“Are you sure that’s it?” Your voice was slightly sing-song and Keqing rolled her eyes, knowing immediately where this was going.

“Of course, what other reason could there possibly be?”

“I don’t know, maybe you were a little jealous?” You shrugged your shoulders dramatically. Keqing tensed for a moment, before shaking her head.

“Why in Teyvat would I be jealous? After all, they’re just a friend.” Although she hadn’t meant to emphasize that last bit Keqing couldn’t help but feel somewhat irritated. It was just a friend, she was sure of that, sure of you. And yet it had irritated her. It had irritated her intensely. And what was that but jealousy?

“Of course they are.” You smiled gently. “They’re just a friend and you’re just the person I love. But Keqing?”

“Yes?” Keqing found her voice somewhat unsure.

“I don’t mind if you’re a little jealous. As long as you never doubt my affections for you, then it’s okay to be a little selfish. Okay?”

There was a pause, before Keqing walked over to you, wrapping you into a tight hug and burying her face in your neck. Drawing back slightly she pressed a soft and somewhat impatient kiss to your lips.

“Are you sure?” She asked, pulling away once more.

“Very sure.” You replied, before leaning in to kiss her in turn.

Keqing was glad to be carried away by the content feeling of being in the embrace of one’s love. She found today incredibly embarrassing and just wanted to forget the whole matter. And she knew you’d let that happen, for even if Keqing felt irritated, even if she resented your friend for accosting you and not leaving you alone she still trusted you more than anything.

And that was what counted.

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Strangers | Joaquín Torres

✦ pairing — Joaquín Torres x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 5.8k (I’m sorry, I don’t have much self-control left)

✦ loosely based on the song Strangers by Mallory Merk

✦ request — I’d like to ask for something where Bucky and the reader are roommates but she’s younger (Joaquin’s age) and one day Sam and Joaquin are there for whatever reason and that’s how Joaquin and Reader meet and they get along (and flirt obv) and Bucky is like a protective older brother and Sam vouches for him but Bucky doesn’t loosen up until Joaquin saves reader from danger or does something nice for her

✦ warnings — angst, awkwardness, Bucky acting like a jealous brother, mentions of beverages and food, light depictions of anxious worry, fluff.

════════════════════════

Bucky and you were in the middle of discussing whether you should adopt a cat or not when a rhythmic knock on the door interrupted the urgent conversation.

“Are you expecting someone?” he asked, eager to go back to the pressing matter at hand.

“You know I am not. I didn’t order anything either...”

Bucky sighed. “I’ll check.”

“No!” You stood up abruptly from the couch. “You’ll scare whoever is behind the door off like you scared our poor neighbor.”

“Can you let that one go?”

“Nope,” you replied as you crossed the small living room.

You would never. The lady still tried to hide from him when she saw him down the hallway which was hilarious because it wasn’t due to the fact that he had famously been The Winter Soldier but because he grumpily opened the door when she needed a favor and closed it on her face.

As you opened the door, you found two attractive men standing in the doorway.

“Is Barnes here?”

“Oh, God. What did he do now?”

“I didn’t do anything!” he exclaimed in your ear, making you jump.

“Jesus, Bucky.”

“Sorry.” He then acknowledged one of the men in front of you, the one who had asked for him, “What’s wrong, Sam?”

“Can we come in?”

Both Bucky and you moved out of the way so the pair of handsome men could come inside.

“So you’re the roommate?” Sam asked.

“I am.”

“And you don’t think he’s the most annoying person you’ve ever met?”

“No. Should I?”

“Hey!”

“I’m joking, I’m joking.”

“I’m Sam Wilson,” your interrogator introduced himself properly. “And this is Joaquín Torres.”

“Nice to meet you.” You smiled at Sam, then at Joaquín who smiled back.

Bucky cleared his throat.

Sam looked tense as he ominously said, “We need your help.”

“Give us some privacy, sweetheart,” Bucky told you.

You retreated to your bedroom, wondering what the secrecy could be about. You knew who Bucky was, what we had done, and everything in between.

And sure, some people thought you were crazy for being his roommate, but you weren’t scared of him. You trusted him and cared about him. In the few months you had gotten to know him he had become an important person in your life, one of your best friends.

His visitors didn’t stay for too long. You hadn’t even gotten comfortable on your bed after having put on a tv show to have something on the background when you heard the front door close.

A couple of minutes later, Bucky knocked on your door and opened it just enough to ask if he could come in.

He sat on your bed, fixing his eyes on your desk.

”So...” you broke the silence, “should I be worried?”

“No.”

“Bucky. Look at me.”

He turned to the side, fully facing you. “What?”

“You don’t have to hide things from me or coddle me.”

“I know. But it’s nothing that can’t be fixed,” he assured you.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He gave you a small smile. “Now, about that cat...”

════════════════════════

After a long week of work, you found yourself relieved to have the apartment just for you. Bucky was a lovely roommate, you just wanted an alone moment.

Saturdays were usually the day you had the apartment for yourself, Bucky had a strict routine until something extraordinary happened and you were comfortable with adapting to it.

To your luck, somebody knocked on the door. You hoped it was somebody looking for the neighbor or something because you weren’t in the mood for people.

Your mood, however, did a 180 as soon as you opened the door.

Joaquín gave you a small smile. “Good evening, (Name).”

Why did he have to come by when you were in sweats and an old t-shirt?! You smiled at him. “Hi.”

“Is Bucky home?”

“No. But he should be back in a couple of hours.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll wait for him outside.”

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” you asked. A part of you wanted to be polite, the other wanted to chat for a little bit. “I just started a batch.”

“Uh—“ Joaquín cleared his throat. “I would really like that.”

You motioned for him to come in. His eyes fixed on you as he did, but for some reason, you didn’t feel uncomfortable. There seemed to be no malice in his eyes.

“Free day?” he made small talk.

“Yeah. I actually don’t work on weekends.”

He shifted in order to face you and asked more about your job. You hoped it wasn’t part of his small talk anymore.

As the conversation progressed, you were sure it had been. His gaze remained on you whether he was speaking or listening, interest never wavering as he found more things to ask about you.

His eyes were such a peculiarity and you couldn’t understand why. Brown eyes were common, you had seen them thousands of times.

“I think the coffee’s ready,” he murmured.

“Right!” You abashedly stood up, smoothing your t-shirt as though it really mattered anymore.

“Do you need help?”

You shook your head. “I’ve got it.”

Glancing at him as you poured the beverages, you saw him staring at you too. Either you weren’t being subtle and were making him uncomfortable or he wasn’t being subtle either. Both options were terrifying.

You walked slowly towards the living room and put both cups down. “Sugar?”

“Please.”

As you went back to the kitchen, you checked the state of your hair on the microwave. Deciding there was nothing you could do to it, you left it as it was and took the container of sugar in your grasp along with a teaspoon.

You placed the sugar container on the table. “Cream?”

“No, thank you.”

Joaquín sweetened his coffee as you sat down next to him once again.

“You don’t like it with cream either?”

“No. I only remember to buy it for Bucky.”

Giving you his entire attention back, Joaquín lifted both eyebrows. “He takes his coffee with cream?”

“Oh, yeah.” You nodded enthusiastically. “I was as shocked as you are.”

“My grandma loved coffee with milk. She added so much that I don’t think it was coffee anymore.”

“Did you ever try it?”

“I didn’t. Well, maybe as a kid?” He tilted his head as he tried to remember. “I would prepare her coffee all the time...”

“That’s so sweet.”

He took a sip of coffee. So did you. For a moment both of you remained silent, and although it wasn’t uncomfortable you found yourself wanting to ask more about him.

You were out of practice in terms of social interaction. It was terrifying to admit, but the fear only made it truer. The blip changed and ruined lives, and while you were getting back on your feet, you still found yourself socially and emotionally stunted at times.

Joaquín didn’t seem to mind the silence. You wondered if he sought it.

Peacefulness and silence didn’t last. The front door opened unexpectedly and Bucky’s heavy steps cut the harmony of Joaquín’s and your breathing.

“I didn’t know you would be coming over,” Bucky grumbled.

Joaquín jumped off his seat. He took the file in his grasp and handed it to Bucky. “Sam wanted me to give you this.”

Humming, Bucky opened the folder. He gave the contents a quick read, then closed it again. “Well, you gave it to me already.”

“Right. Uhmmm...” Joaquín turned to the side and lightly bowed. “Thank you for the coffee, (Name).”

“Anytime,” you said, voice too enthusiastic even for your liking.

Joaquín gave you another smile before leaving the apartment, causing your face to flush.

You attempted to entertain yourself by washing the cups, but you still couldn’t believe you had spoken like a teenager with a crush.

Bucky leaned onto the wall. “I saw the way you were looking at Torres.”

“With my eyes?” you teased.

“With too much enthusiasm.”

“He’s cute,” you admitted as you twisted to look at him.

“Nope, not happening.”

“Not happening what?” Feigning innocence never worked with him, but you still liked trying. However, his glare told you this wasn’t the time to be playful. “Bucky, come on, I just admired the view. It’s not like I’m planning on running after him to ask him to marry me.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Do you believe me capable of asking somebody I barely know to marry me?” As soon as the question left your mouth, you added, “You know what? Don’t answer that.”

“He gave you the same eyes you were giving him,” Bucky said grumpily.

“He did?”

“Can you be serious for a moment?”

“Oh, Buck, I’m being more than serious.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is this my first time seeing you with a crush?”

“Do you find it charming?”

“You weren’t this cocky with him.”

“Were you eavesdropping?!”

“I thought you had another type of company. Wanted to make sure it was safe to come in.”

“That’s such a bad excuse.”

“Not as bad as your flirting.”

“Just because you used to be a good flirt doesn’t mean you still are. Be humble, Barnes.”

“I’m still better than you.”

You stuck your tongue out. “I’ll become the best flirt in the world. You’ll see.”

“Absolutely not. And Torres is off limits!”

“Awww, do you want him for yourself? Can I have Sam then?”

“You don’t even know him!”

“Sam or Joaquín?”

“Joaquín,” he grumbled.

“Whose fault is that? I couldn’t even get his number because you had to show authority or whatever macho bullshit is clouding your judgment.”

“My judgment isn’t clouded.”

“You need to get laid so I can get laid.”

“What’s wrong with taking things slow? The last date I went on was a disaster.”

“Nothing,” you assured him. “I just think you need to de-stress, have some clarity and see I just have a mild crush.”

“Mild?”

“Yeah. I was kinda intense in high school.” You feigned a shudder. “Dark times.”

“What about college?”

“We don’t talk about that. I had terrible taste.”

“See?”

You tried another approach, “We’re acting like children and I’m pretty sure we are adults. I pay taxes, dude, I can have a crush on whoever I want.”

“Of course. You’re a big girl.”

You could tell he was only going with your flow. But you would take it.

════════════════════════

Bucky sat in front of Sam. Brows furrowed as he went through the same file Joaquín had given him a few days ago.

He didn’t like the idea of going after anybody. He had left violence to the side already. Did this count as ruining it all so soon?

Glancing at Sam, who was expectantly watching him, Bucky sighed. “What about (Name)? What should I tell her?”

“I could send Torres—“

“NO.”

“Barnes,” Sam sighed, “you know we can trust him.”

“For this type of stuff. Not with (Name). You didn’t see the way he was looking at her the last time.”

“He might have a crush,” Sam conceded, “but you’re acting like he wants to murder her.”

“He might,” Bucky said without really meaning it.

Sam crossed his arms. “Do you like her or something?”

“Not like that,” Bucky replied, almost offended. “She’s like a sister to me, Sam. I care about her, I want to protect her.”

“By not letting her see people?”

“You don’t get it.”

“No, I do. And I know damn well this isn’t the right way to do it.”

Bucky scowled, yet knowing Sam wanted to say something else, remained quiet.

“Think about this. You’re worried something will happen to her while we do this, and I’m telling you Torres could keep her safe but you’re being childish because you think you should act like a jealous brother.”

“What if he breaks her heart? Huh? What then? She likes him!”

“He’s nice, of course she likes him! You should be glad he likes her too, dumbass.”

“She’s not ready to date people.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

Bucky shifted in his seat. “I’m not trying to be a dick, Sam. She’s been through hell.”

“Something might not even happen between them, you’re jumping to conclusions way too quickly.” Sam then added, “Unless both are into fast dating in which case things would be fine too.”

“You don’t know that. He could hurt her.”

“You already managed to run a background check on him and—“

Bucky interrupted, “How do you know?”

Sam nonchalantly shrugged. “I’d do the same.”

Bucky hung his head, staring down at the file on the small table. “Can I beat him up if he does something he shouldn’t?”

“He won’t.”

“But can I?”

“Will you shut up if I say yes?”

“Maybe.”

Sam withdrew his phone, tapped the screen a couple of times and brought the device to his ear. “Torres. Are you busy?”

Bucky huffed through his nose and then went back to read the file for the hundredth time.

════════════════════════

The forecast that morning had forced you to carry an umbrella and a jacket that you ultimately had to shed. It rarely rained around your workplace; you couldn’t say the same about your apartment.

You weren’t sure what type of natural phenomenon was at play —or fault, really— but you were not happy about it.

Hoping you hadn’t forgotten to close your bedroom window, you quietly wished your coworkers a good night and made your way towards the exit.

You found a face you seemed to see everywhere. Mostly due to your daydreams, but who could blame you apart from Bucky?

Joaquín slid his right hand off his pocket and waved at you.

Waving back, you approached him. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t home so I contacted Sam so he could ask where you could be and Bucky said you worked here so I came here.”

You couldn’t hide your smile upon hearing his convoluted explanation. “I imagined as much. What I meant with my question is why are you here?”

“Oh! I’m making sure you get home safe.”

You frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “But we don’t want to take any risks.”

You didn’t know who was we exactly although you could assume he was talking about Bucky. And about himself. The realization made your stomach flip.

“Are we walking?”

“I drove here,” he explained, hesitating to make the first move towards his car.

You gave the first step forward, getting slightly closer to him. A whiff of his cologne hit you and just like that it was gone. He started walking too.

“Had a nice day?”

“It wasn’t too bad. How about you?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

You wanted to oh so badly ask what his ordinary was. Fuck, it was like you were having a crush for the first time all over again.

“So... are you staying at mine or...?”

“I’ll sleep here in the car.”

“There’s a couch right there. Kinda comfy if you ask me...”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Please, you’ll be there because of me, it’s the least I can do.”

“It’s no problem,” he hurried to assure you.

The streets looked different from the car. Bigger. You were so used to public transport, to see people from afar — to perceive everything from the perspective of somebody trapped in a box that had been created to make things easier for them.

You didn’t feel small per se, yet people looked bigger too. It was as though you had forgotten that people outside of your bubble existed.

Friends were almost nonexistent in a world that still was trying to recover from a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

The people you considered friends kept their distance from you and each other because they didn’t have other choice. Work, school for those privileged enough, debt, grief... all those things got in the way. And perhaps it was better that way for now. Everybody needed to heal.

An empty hallway greeted you. It wasn’t too late, but your neighbors kept mostly to themselves. Bucky preferred it that way.

You pushed the door open after unlocking the two locks, allowing Joaquín to get in first.

He shed his dripping jacket, bashfully hanging it on the coat hanger.

“Can I offer you anything to drink or eat?” you asked, placing your belongings next to the couch.

“Whatever you’ll be having.”

You tugged the fridge door open. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Not that I know of.” He approached you, leaning on the kitchen bar. “Surprise me?”

“Oh, yeah, I will. With a visit to the ER.”

“Hey, it’d be a surprise nonetheless.”

You giggled and took a glance at him. The ghost of a smile crept into his face before he started laughing too.

“You don’t have a boyfriend that would get mad at me for staying here, do you?”

You chuckled. “No.”

“Are you even into guys?”

“I am.”

“That’s good.” Realizing he had sounded too happy, he added, “I mean... it would also be good if you weren’t, obviously.”

“I get what you meant.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, it’s cool.”

“Cool.”

Neither of you stopped smiling. You only moved when the fridge’s door alarm interrupted.

You ended up ordering takeout and talking to him past midnight.

But not every night was lighthearted. Such a thing was true to life and to this particular week.

Joaquín was a good distraction before and after work, but the moment the time to say goodnight arrived, worry heaved on your entire body.

You tiptoed your way towards the kitchen, desperate for a glass of water. Hoping the stream of water wouldn’t make too much noise, you filled the glass and stood in the middle of the kitchen, slowly drinking it.

“Can’t sleep?”

You jumped, splashing water onto you and in consequence the floor. A couple of days or so weren’t enough for you to be completely used to Joaquín’s voice. Albeit nice, it was still new.

He turned the light on. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You clumsily placed the glass on the counter. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Sleep was elusive, something you had assumed was in the past. Insomnia had been your loyal friend throughout the blip, then grief joined.

Bucky was the closest thing you had to a family now. What if you had to grieve him too?

As though he had been reading your mind, Joaquín softly said, “He’ll be okay.”

“You sound so sure...”

“He’s strong and skilled. Sam is too.”

“I’m scared,” you confessed. “I don’t wanna be all alone again.”

He placed his hand on your shoulder. It almost burned you. “You won’t be.”

You pursed your lips. You had heard that one many times before.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just... you know...” You started laughing instead of truly explaining yourself.

But you didn’t need to explain anything. “It’s okay, everything will be okay.”

You laughed again, louder this time, nodding because what else could you say? That you couldn’t believe him if you wanted to?

He looked at you with worry. “Do you have any tea?”

You nodded once more, unable to speak as you continue laughing and pointing to the top cupboard.

“I’ll fix you a cup.”

Crying out of laughter, you sat at the small table, leaning on your forearms as you tried to watch him — the tears didn’t allow you to truly assess the damage.

Said tears worried you. The last time you had properly cried seemed to have been too long ago to be healthy.

Then again, not many people were in a healthy position as of now.

Before you could even realize what was going on, Joaquín softly set a cup on the table. “Sorry for not adding sugar, I didn’t think it was a good idea.”

Embarrassed due to the fact that you couldn’t stop laughing, you avoided his eyes and wrapped your fingers around the cup. “Thank you,” you mumbled.

“Hey,” he said softly, “it’s no problem, okay?”

You hummed, inhaling the scent of the tea before taking a small sip.

He made you company as you drank the hot beverage at your own pace. In complete silence, trying to hide from you that he was playing with his fingers under the table.

“Better?”

“I think so.”

“Do you need anything else?”

“I don’t know.”

“You have work tomorrow...”

How could you forget? You stood up with the cup in your grasp and went into the kitchen to wash it.

“I can wake you up for work if you want,” he offered.

“My alarm is loud enough.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said as if he was just remembering, “I’ve heard it.”

You huffed a laugh. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Before he could turn around, you called for him, “Joaquín?”

“Yes?”

“Would you keep me company until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.”

It felt strange to have somebody that wasn’t Bucky in your bedroom. Joaquín curiously eyed the room while you got comfortable in the bed — his eyes eventually landed on you.

He gripped your desk chair and took it out.

Before he would sit down, you told him, “You can sit on the bed if you prefer. That chair ruined my back.”

Considering the offer, he approached the bed, slowly as he looked at you in case you changed your mind.

You patted the empty space. “I don’t bite.”

Tentatively sitting down, he asked, “Why haven’t you changed the chair?”

“I like the color.”

He softly laughed. “It’s pretty,” he agreed. “Looks nice with your decoration.”

“Thank you.”

His hand brushed your forearm as the two of you shifted at the same time. Your face heated up, and now you wondered if his palm contrasted the softness of the back of his hand.

Joaquín cleared his throat. “Try to sleep,” he whispered, “I’ll be here.”

You took a deep breath before closing your eyes. Focusing on trying to remember what you had been thinking before falling asleep the last time you got some rest, you got lost in your own head.

The door creaked as it was pushed open. Bucky opened his mouth.

Joaquín brought his index finger to his closed lips, signaling for Bucky to not make a sound.

Joaquín looked down at your form, still fast asleep. Your head was on his shoulder, face semi-buried in his t-shirt.

Bucky watched as Joaquín softly removed your head from his shoulder, delicately making it rest onto the pillow — he then left the bed in silence and tucked you into the covers before leaving the room.

”Everything in order?”

Bucky grumbled in affirmation. “What was that?”

“She was worried about you. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Nothing else?”

Joaquín shook his head, hoping he was managing to mask his disappointment.

Bucky hummed. “Thank you, Joaquín. For everything.”

“It was no problem.”

Joaquín collected his few belongings in a minute, taking a glance at the ajar door that separated your bedroom from the lounge area.

“Bucky...”

“Mmh?”

“Could you text me when she wakes up or if she needs anything?”

Bucky stood silent for a few seconds. Seconds that for Joaquín felt like hours. “I will. Go home.”

════════════════════════

Having Bucky back at home was relieving. Except for the fact that he looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to spill it.

“Is there anything you want to say?” you yelled from the couch.

He stopped chopping carrots to lift his head. “Did you get Torres’s number?”

Turning the TV off, you pushed yourself to a sitting position and eventually left the couch.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Have you called him?”

“I sent him a meme.” You extended your hand, taking a piece of carrot. “He laughed and sent one back.”

“I assumed you would have asked for his hand in marriage by the time I would be back.”

“Ha ha, you’re so funny.”

Bucky snorted. You munched on your cube of carrot.

“Maybe you’re reading too much into it. He’s genuinely nice, you know? People can be friends regardless of gender.”

“What happened to wanting to get laid?”

“I doubt it’s mutual.”

“He likes you and you like him. That’s practically the definition of mutualism.”

“You said he was off-limits,” you accused.

“He isn’t anymore.”

“I didn’t get the memo.”

“Don’t get grumpy with me.”

“I’m not grumpy.” You pouted. “But what if he doesn’t like me that way? He’s a really nice person, maybe that’s it.”

“Oh my God,” Bucky exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

You whined, “Buuuuuuuuucky. Don’t be mean.”

“Don’t act obtuse then.”

“I haven’t dated anybody in years. I don’t know how to do it. He’s fun to talk to, don’t get me wrong — I’m the problem.” You sighed dramatically. “We should throw a pity party for me,” you sarcastically said.

“Why do you think I’m making lasagna?”

“I honestly thought Sam was coming over for dinner.”

Bucky blushed due to his inability to be subtle which was the most shocking thing you had learned about him.

Truth to be told, Bucky’s words stayed in your mind for days. You continued casually texting Joaquín, not sure if you should ask him out or let it go.

You wanted to, and it wouldn’t be the first time you had made the first move — that didn’t bother you. What bothered you was the mere idea of asking him out too soon.

Seeing your phone light up with Joaquín’s name and a message attached to it genuinely improved your day every single time.

It was so hard not to be in his orbit when apart from being handsome he was so nice and easy to talk to.

You liked him, you really did. You also liked that things didn’t feel awkward with him when you knew they would’ve been unbearable with somebody else. It was liberating.

Are you home?

Nope.

If you were looking for Bucky, he’s out on a date.

I know. But I’m not here to see him.

You’re there?

Yeah. I’ve been here for a few minutes now.

I’m having drinks with my coworkers. Two of them are celebrating their birthday. I can ditch if you need anything.

I wanted to see you.

I also wanted to ask...

Are you busy next Saturday?

Your heart skipped a beat. I’m not.

Eyes glued to the three dots that signaled he was typing, you finished your drink in a single swig.

Would you go out with me?

You can pick wherever we go, I don’t mind.

I would love to!

Was the exclamation mark too much?

Fuck, you felt like a teenager again.

And I don’t mind if you pick.

Why don’t we make that decision later?

Sounds good to me.

Sorry for making you wait outside for nothing.

I’m the one who appeared unannounced, but it’s okay. I got almost everything I wanted.

You’re making not ditching really hard right now.

Good to know I’m doing something right.

But you should hang out with your coworkers.

And be careful. If you remember, text me when you get home.

It was stupidly hard not to be smitten by him.

════════════════════════

“For the millionth time, you look fine.”

You glared at Bucky.

“He’s right,” Sam assured you from the couch. “You look fine, and it’s just a casual date. You’ll be okay.”

“Just a casual date?” you asked in a high pitch that surprised the three of you.

“He’s seen you in the morning already,” Bucky reminded you, lifting his eyebrows. “I don’t understand why you’re so nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” you defended yourself. “I’ve had these jeans for literal years and I’m scared I’m gonna rip them.”

“Take a jacket or coat with you just in case.” Sam offered the solution immediately.

You did as Sam suggested and carried your favorite jacket over your forearm.

In contrast to what you saw every morning, there wasn’t a single familiar face in the subway. As you checked the time to make sure you wouldn’t be late, you saw that one of your other friends had wished you good luck on your date.

The fact that somebody apart from Bucky —and Sam— openly wanted you to succeed at something outside of work improved your mood. You had lied to Bucky earlier regarding being nervous, less due to embarrassment, and more because you didn’t want to admit you were scared of still not knowing how to handle things when they went wrong.

Rejection was easier to take in comparison to the way things crumble after they seem to be going well. Rejection is quick, it eventually passes — regret and what-ifs potentially stay forever. You had the scars to prove it.

You had to walk a couple of blocks from the station to the place you would meet Joaquín at. The area was new to you, colorful and lively from what looked to be brand new businesses.

Upon arriving at the diner, you understood why Joaquín had chosen that place. It wasn’t crowded by any means, but it looked far from empty. It was the perfect middle ground for a first date.

Such observation didn’t ease up your nerves, yet giddiness couldn’t stop itself from bubbling up.

“Oh!” he exclaimed from behind you. “I was about to text you.”

You turned around. “I just got here.”

Joaquín silently stared at you, taking a shaky breath and bobbing his head open and closed.

He settled for a short compliment, easier to say than the jumbled mess of euphoric reactions he internalized, “You look great.”

“I—“ You weren’t expecting that. “Thank you. You look really nice.”

You might have been selling it short, he looked as handsome as ever and more — but you didn’t want to sound intense or say too much and scare him off.

He looked down for a moment, trying to fight the warmth crawling up his skin. “Thank you,” he said quietly before looking up once again.

His bashfulness was a good sign, it would be less awkward if both of you felt the same way about the prospect of a first date.

“I found this place by mistake a few weeks ago,” he told you as he opened the door for you. “Their coffee is great.”

He let you choose the table, arguing that it was your first there and he wanted you to have the best experience. You appreciated his effort.

Bucky and Sam mentioned you could come across as being uncomfortable around others, he must’ve been under the same impression.

In all fairness, it was less about being uncomfortable and more about being scared of oversharing.

“Are you a big coffee guy?”

“Kind of. I’m used to instant coffee even though I don’t like it so I try a different one every time I can.”

“I have a coworker who is obsessed with that stuff.” You chuckled. “But they drink it cold.”

Joaquín huffed a laugh. “It might taste better like that.”

The conversation deviated from mindless small talk to work, and then to your interests — it was refreshing to know you shared a few and even more so to find he was open to giving things he didn’t know a try.

After eating, the two of you decided to take a walk just so you could talk some more.

Your hand brushed his by mistake. Joaquín looked down. He pressed the back of his hand against yours, momentarily pushing his fingers between yours.

“Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

He pulled away then slid his hand under yours. Clasping his palm against yours, he stared at your face in search of your reaction. “How about that?”

“Also yes.”

He smiled. “Good thing I listened to Sam when he said I wasn’t imagining things and you were into me too.”

“You know, I almost made the first move.”

“What stopped you?”

You shrugged. “Maybe I would have drunkenly asked you out if you hadn’t beat me to it.”

He hummed yet made no further comment.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I do, I do!”

“Buuuuuuut?”

“It took us a while to exchange phone numbers. Imagine if it had taken us the same to go out?”

“Oh God, we would be stuck third-wheeling Sam and Bucky.”

“I’m so sorry you have no escape from that,” he joked.

“I just hope they never have sex when I’m in the apartment or I will need therapy I can’t afford.”

He lightly squeezed your hand. “I’ll rescue you, don’t worry.”

It was your turn to smile. “I’ll take that as a sign that I’ll be seeing you again.”

“As long as you don’t see it as a threat...”

You giggled. “I would never.”

According to the blog posts you read online, guys seemed to like it when the other person assured them they had a good time with them. You hoped he had gotten the hint.

In case he hadn’t, you said, “There was this coffee shop near my childhood home that I used to love... They had the best chocolate cake I’ve ever tasted and the coffee was delicious too. I heard it reopened...”

“We should go there next time.”

“Sounds good. I haven’t visited the neighborhood in a while.”

“Any reason in particular?”

“I don’t know anybody around there anymore.”

It was getting late and you knew your time together would be over. At least for tonight.

He walked you toward the subway station, swinging your intertwined hands. The conversation didn’t seem to end, he could thread on any topic and you would’ve listened to him until his voice was hoarse and his throat dry.

You couldn’t leave without properly telling him what a great time you had. It was too soon to know what would happen, you weren’t naive, but you also really fucking liked him.

“I had a great time,” you reassured him. “Thank you.”

“Me too. I hope it repeats soon.”

You did too. All those nerves had thankfully paid off.

He scratched the back of his head with his free hand. “I’m sorry if I’m being too forward, but... can I kiss you?”

“You’re not being too forward.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

Joaquín licked his bottom lip and cupped your cheek with a hand. His other one tightly held yours, giving you time. You wetted your lips too. Then he leaned in and kissed you.

You basked in the kiss’s bliss. Short, sweet, perfect in every single aspect. The kind of human contact you had longed for years and had been too scared to look for.

His eyes were on you as you opened your own — shining with a happy glint.

“You’re even prettier from up-close,” he commented lowly, hand still on your face.

Your gaze fell to his wrist for a second. Then you held his. “I could say the same to you.”

“Thank God.” He giggled.

“You said you needed to wake up early tomorrow...” you said, much to your own dismay. You didn’t want to be selfish.

“I’ll wait for your train to get here.”

And so he did, and you almost cursed the stupid giant can when it arrived.

You reluctantly let go of his hand. “Text me when you get home just so I know you arrived safely, yeah?”

He nodded. “Promise.”

“Goodnight.”

He kissed your cheek. “Goodnight.”

[teacup-crow]

Maybe, Maybe, Maybe

Fun bit of survivors’ guilt for @badthingshappenbingo, based pretty heavily off Don’t Poke the Bear and Variations on a Theme. Post-finale.

They take it in turns to keep watch for when he wakes up: Doug, Reneé, Isabel, first names still such a novelty. Just his luck, he opens his eyes to the impassive face of Captain Lovelace.

“Hi, dickbag. Sore head?”

“Unnnnhh…” he whines as if he’s lying under a ton of rocks rather than a cosy quilt on Renee’s living room floor. His face is a patchwork of bruising. “Aspirin?”

She takes pity, and passes him two and a glass of water. The sitting up takes longer than he thought it would.

“You look terrible. Lucky for you, Renee makes a mean chilli con carne. Never would have guessed she could cook.”

“No thanks, I should, should be going-”

“You need food in your system, that’s non-negotiable. First thing’s first, though, you’re having a shower, and you either go willingly or get dragged bodily, because you goddamn stink. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” he mumbles automatically, and he remembers the Colonel - Warren? Was it on a day he could call him Warren? - once saying something similar and his head pounds. ((“mr jacobi, of all the irresponsible, stupid shit i have seen from you this really takes the-“))

“Bathroom’s on the second floor, just past the master bedroom. Dominick put a pile of clean clothes in there before he left for work. And it’s Isabel, okay? Not sir. Not Captain. Never again.”

***

“Who did this to you?”

He grips his mug of sweet tea like it’s thousand dollar whiskey. He’s still ashen. “I did this to me.”

“You beat the shit out of yourself? Okay, yeah. Don’t buy that one.” Isabel repeats the question. “Who did this to you?”

“Just some guys I pissed off. I don’t know how many. I don’t know who. Happy now?”

The room goes silent. Isabel continues:

“And did you go provoking them deliberately?”

Not for the first time, Renee wonders whether they should have included Doug in this little intervention. He’s been through so much just like the rest of them, but he doesn’t know it, and he’s clearly freaking out at the situation.

“Why would he want something like that to happen? He looks terrible!”

“I don’t know, Doug,” Isabel says levelly. “Care to answer, Jacobi?”

He’s not on a first name basis, apparently.

“Not… I didn’t... no. No, no, no. I was too drunk and… picking fights, but suddenly there were too many of them, okay? But I got out. And if I want to drink then that’s my own problem, so thank you for the hospitality but-“

Renee cuts in there. “When you drink yourself into a stupor, get attacked by a gang in a back alley, and stumble into my doorway at 0300 hours after six months of radio silence, it becomes our problem.” Her look of pity makes his stomach churn even more than the chilli did. He breathes in, hold, out; in, hold, out; in-((alana’s breathing technique and why why why is she everywhere in everything why does he have to see her out of the corner of his eye when it’s been so long he can’t properly remember her face-))

“Fine. What do you want from me?”

“You are a good man and you saved every single one of our lives and we need to understand why you’re so intent on throwing yours away.”

Jacobi starts laughing then, guttural laughs that worsen the ache in his head and bones but he can’t seem to stop them. “...me? I’m a good man? Oh my God, Lieutenant, that’s hilarious. Give us another.”

“You need to take this seriously! This is a form of self harm! You could have died!” Isabel is pacing up and down. She and Renee do good cop, bad cop like it’s a professional sport.

“Boo fucking hoo. And the world would forever be worse off for my passing.”

Isabel stops, and turns back towards him with some heat in her gaze. “I have lost too many crew members who deserved to die far less than you do. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? Do you need me to reconfirm that you are a an asshole? Do you need to hear about how Fisher, and Hui, and Fourier, and Lambert were all far better people than you will ever, ever be? Or will you accept that you are good in there? That deep down you’re on the right-“

“We burned their letters.” He’s staring at the duvet he’s wrapped in, running his finger over the flowers on the pattern. “Okay? Still think I’m a good person?”

“...wait. What?” She laughs a little, in shock perhaps. “But you told me…”

“I told you what I needed to tell you to make you trust me. We burned your crew’s letters. Lambert’s… I remember those especially. His hands were shaking really hard when he wrote them, weren’t they.”

It’s not a question.

Isabel stops pacing, and Jacobi grins again but it doesn’t reach his bruised eyes when he looks up at her. “More than mine, even. You could tell he was sick. They didn’t make any sense. We laughed at them. The irony of a Communications Officer who can’t communicate. Are you listening to me? We read their letters and we burned them and we laughed about it-“

Renee loses her softness. “Jacobi, that is enough!”

Isabel has a hand on her chest as if something has hit her there. She counts to ten in her head, ((fisher’s technique to try and stop her fighting with sam, never worked but still stuck in her head, or this copy of her head, or whoever she is now-)) and leaves the room.

They hear her slamming drawers in the kitchen.

Doug glances at Jacobi and shakes his head, before hurrying after her.

“How could you,” Reneé says. “How could you.”

“I don’t know. Will you let me go and ruin my own life now?”

“Never,” she replies. “Because, God help me, you’re still a member of my crew.”

At that, his eyes prick with tears he can’t explain. He rolls over on the air bed, and closes them.

***

“Lovelace?” Jacobi finally makes himself walk into the kitchen, grimacing like each step is on hot sand. The words are monotone. “I’m so sorry. What I did and said is... inexcusable.”

“Nope. That’s too large a word for your vocabulary. Come back to me with an apology Renée didn’t script,” Isabel snaps, going back to scribbling in a sketchbook.

“Look, I’m not much good at this-“

“You’re telling me.”

“I’m… really used to people yelling at me and hitting me until they feel better. Or you can shoot me if you like!”

“Jesus. Well, I am not about to do that to ease your guilt. You look like you’d snap if one more person poked you. So apologise properly.”

“I’m sorry…”

“For?” Isabel prompts over the top of her book.

“I’m sorry for burning your crew’s letters.”

“You did what you were ordered to do. It is what it is. I’m not condoning it.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Jacobi realises she’s waiting for him to continue. “And… I’m sorry for bringing it up. That was… needlessly cruel. It sucked.”

“It really did,” she replies, putting the book down. “Tell you what: that sounded somewhat genuine, and Goddard brought out the shit in all of us. You look so pathetic, I’m going to forgive you. Not because you deserve it, but because I don’t bear grudges. Not anymore.”

She holds out a hand, and he shakes it. “Thank you.”

“Wow. That actually hurt for you to say.”

Jacobi nods. He sits down across from her at Renée’s huge darkwood table, and thinks about how she and Dominick must have bought this when they moved in together with plans to have people over for dinner every other night. Maybe even plans to have kids.

He wonders if Dominick ate at it alone while his wife was gone.

“So, you gone on that holiday yet?”

“No, actually. I’ve legally been dead for about seven years, so getting a passport is proving pretty tricky.”

“I can imagine.”

“Where have you been, anyway? We tried to get into contact with you. We drove down to your old apartment - got your address from the Goddard database - but it was cleaned out.”

Jacobi looks sheepish. “Yeah, well, I’d mostly been staying at Alana’s for the last few years or overnight at… yeah… so I’d not been a very good tenant and turns out they took ‘lost in space’ as the perfect opportunity to kick me out. So I’ve been sofa to sofa, on the streets a bit-”

“For heaven’s sake, Jacobi. We would have helped you, you stupid asshole! All you had to do was ask and you could have stayed here! Renee and Dominick would probably even let you have a cheese collection or whatever the fuck it was.”

“Guess the amount of drinks it takes for me to lose my pride is somewhere over eighteen?”

“How do you have a functioning liver?”

They sit in an almost comfortable silence for a few minutes, Isabel reopening her sketchbook.

“I never knew you drew.”

“You never knew me outside of a life-threatening situation.” Isabel sighs, twists the pencil between her fingers. “I don’t think I did. Before. The old ‘me’, I mean. But I was bored and I can’t get a job because of the ‘being dead’ issue, so I thought I should take up a hobby or something. Might be therapeutic. I’m not very good at it…”

“Can I see?”

“I, uh,” Isabel suddenly looks uncertain. “I drew her. Maxwell. I drew everyone, actually. Are you sure you want to look?”

“Yes.”

He leafs through the pages, at first simple doodles before branching into full portraits. Eiffel, upside down and smoking a cigarette. Hilbert, looking troubled at a shadow behind him he can’t quite see. Two ghostlike figures in lab coats staring out at the star, the man with a prophetic terror etched on his face - must be Isabel’s old crewmates. Mr Cutter smiles up at him with far too many sharp teeth in sharper lines where the pencil was pressed far too hard and he turns the page quickly. There’s Kepler, mid-whiskey speech and it almost stops his heart. He pauses. Maxwell.

In the picture, her eyes are shining as she stares at Hera’s console, fingers nothing more than a blur - the three-day stint she spent trying to get the AI online. Aside from the orange and blue of Wolf 359, elsewhere in the book Isabel has barely used colour, but here the room is bathed in a serene green light from the screens. Behind Maxwell, Jacobi sees himself, little more than a stocky, sketchy outline, waiting for her to finish.

He looks so proud of her.

He looks so… content.

After staring for a long moment, Jacobi closes the book and hands it back. “Thank you.”

“You can keep the pictures of them, if you like,” Isabel offers, but he doesn’t know whether he would like, so he says:

“Tell me about your crew.”

“What?”

“Your old crew. Tell me about them. Was Lambert the one staring at...?”

“No. No. No, that was Kuan Hui, our senior astrophysicist. He was whipsmart and funny and fearless, until the time Goddard Futuristics played around in his brain, stretched out his perception of time. He was completely alone in the dark for two weeks. His smile never really reached his eyes after that.”

Jacobi sips tea awkwardly, even though it’s cold.

“Something like that, it stays with you. At least he had Fourier, though.”

“That’s the woman behind him?”

“Junior physicist. Victoire Fourier had eyes like stars. Cleverest person I’ve ever met. She played six instruments, spoke four languages and she had the most gentle soul. She used to read to Hui when he got sick with Decima. Coughed up every organ in his body. I thought it would break her, but she was made of stern stuff. She vanished off the space station in the final days and I still don’t know what exactly happened to her-”

“I… do. If you want to know, I mean.”

Isabel shakes her head. Then pauses. Then shakes her head again. “I get the feeling whoever is to blame is long gone.”

Jacobi shrugs. “Who else?”

“Well, there was Mace Fisher. Fisher… Fisher died because of me, not Goddard Futuristics. Asteroid shower tore him from my hands. He had a boyfriend waiting at home. He was sensitive, sensible, grounding. A real older brother type. I- I didn’t deal particularly well with his death. Well, you know that much.”

((Pill popper!)) Jacobi gulps more cold tea.

“And Lambert?”

“Sam Lambert. Officer Samuel Lambert had a stick up his ass. He was whiny, and authoritarian, and he treasured his copy of Pryce and Carter more than Reneé and Kepler combined did. He drove me nearly insane, and I drove him likewise. The best second in command you could ask for. A damn good man. Sam got sick after Hui, so we knew what was coming. What it meant. He was brave, though. At first.”

((“C-Captain, please shoot me, please, it hurts, it hurts, Captain, please, I just want it to-”)

She falters.

“Lovelace?”

“Yup?”

“You know, it’s not even really about the Hephaestus. I keep… it’s insane, but I keep thinking about… I was an explosives guy for the Air Force. Before Goddard. A trigger failed and two men died. Andrews and Sullivan. I haven’t thought about them in years and suddenly-“

“They’re everywhere?”

There’s a sudden understanding between them.

“They’re everywhere. Them and Maxwell and Kepler. They’re in mirrors, in the back of my brain, around corners.”

“Flashes of them.”

“And if you just reach out far enough, maybe-“

“Maybe-“

“Maybe.”

((let’s go be monsters)), Jacobi’s brain echoes. He grits his teeth.

“Did it stop for you? When does it stop?” He finds himself asking. Isabel doesn’t answer.

[tickle-bugs]

Justice League Headcanons

So...yeah. Blame @fickle-tiction and @fanficsandfluff but I can’t get JL out of my head. I know next to nothing in terms of canon and I only enjoy a handful of DC movies, so this is the beginning of what I am calling the BEU (Bug Extended Universe). 

Essentially, in the words of Nick Fury, ‘I recognize your canon, but seeing as it’s a stupid-ass canon, I have elected to ignore it :)’. A mish-mash of everything I’ve learned about DC through osmosis and my own personal vibe checks :)

This is absurdly long so everything is under the cut:

Clark Kent

- Superman? NO, Superdork. 

- He’s extremely clumsy. If he wasn’t as fast as a speeding bullet he’d get his ass handed to him ten times over. He has two left feet. 

- He has a sweet tooth like no one’s business. Lois once found him perched on the kitchen counter at 3 am eating the donuts she brought home from work. 

- Super playful and affectionate! King of bear hugs! Country boy I love youuuuuuu

- Curses like a sailor. Do you really think Clark ‘Smallville, Kansas’ Kent is wholesome? He stubbed his toe once and yelled FUCK so loud that the windows vibrated. Everyone who isn’t in the league thinks he’s a boyscout but the league knows the truth. 

- Forgets about his powers a lot. He has been known to run through walls/take doors off their hinges when he’s excited. 

- Goblin. He loves messing with Bruce and roping Barry into his schemes. 

- Clark being ticklish is actually smth that can be so personal? His laugh is so loud and he always goes ‘sorry’ and tries to be quieter but it does NOT work. He has flight instincts more than fight instincts so he often starts unconsciously floating away when he’s tickled it’s so cute. He giggles a lot and he’s not particularly embarrassed by it.

- Do NOT get me started on ler Clark I could write a dissertation. He is SO playful and teasy but also sweet? He definitely is the type to laugh along with his lee. He definitely allows any sort of retaliation/fighting back like,,, if you manage to crawl away it’s because he let you, and if he wants too, he can be very mean and immovable.

- Bruce and Barry are his favorite targets. He doesn’t go after Diana because, frankly, he doesn’t have a death wish. He loves to cause problems on purpose by squeezing Arthur’s side and then blaming it on Barry. (Hal Jordan isn’t in the DCEU Justice League but I wish he was...they’d be partners in crime <3)

Bruce Wayne

- Okay let’s clarify some things: he’s not actually an asshole. He can be abrasive and snarky but he’s more towards the sarcastic gruff side vs straight-up mean.

- A lot of people think he’s genuinely an asshole/disconnected rich guy because he has a terrible habit of zoning out/interrupting people? Bruce actually just has intense ADHD that he refuses to get diagnosed, no matter how much Alfred pushes him. He doesn’t care what people think about him and he’s mostly learned how to manage it, so he leaves it alone.

- That being said, his friendship with Barry has me :’) Yes, he thinks Barry’s a pest (affectionate), but they share a few science-related hyperfixations (robotics, chemical engineering, etc). They can frequently be found holed up in the Batcave with a week’s worth of food and caffeine, and they’re just....tinkering. Watching them at work is amazing because as much as they annoy each other, they respect each other :)

- He’s 100% a cat person. He doesn’t have a problem with dogs, he just prefers cats. He feeds the strays that hang out around the Manor all the time...

-...which Alfred begs him not to do, because Bruce is severely allergic. He thinks he can power through the allergies until one of the stray cats does the face-headbump thing and he’s incapacitated emotionally and physically for the rest of the day. 

- He severely restrains his emotions but like...catch him on a good day or in a good mood and he’ll smile and laugh, especially in friendly company. He just generally believes in maintaining a poker face so no one can read him. 

- Not to be disrespectful but...thighs. I am Looking. 

- Bruce has a wonderful laugh. He’s not much of a giggler tbh but he has this open, clear, slightly scratchy kinda laugh (his voice is permanently hoarse from the Batman Voice). It’s so lovely. He has a habit of covering his mouth bc he’s embarrassed of his smile but if he finds something very funny he’ll laugh openly. 

- Thee Batman is ticklish and he...doesn’t hate it? Like of course he protests ten ways from Sunday but he more minds the ‘guys stop you’re ruining my dark and brooding facade’ bit. He hates being teased though and he will throw hands. 

- Circling back to the emotions thing, he’s very good at controlling his reactions, which means he has thoroughly convinced everyone he’s not ticklish. Except Clark, stupidly perceptive Clark, because he can hear Bruce’s heartbeat and see the way he clenches his jaw to avoid smiling. 

Diana Prince

- WIFEY!!!!! 

- Diana is hilarious okay? She’s just...so fucking funny. Her jokes never miss. You wouldn’t think she’s the quippy type, but she is, and she’s damn good at it. In a distant alternate universe, Peter Parker senses a rival. 

- Loves fresh fruit, but especially strawberries? She makes frequent trips to the local farmer’s market. 

- She also has a raging sweet tooth. She and Clark work together to steal sweets and buy snacks. 

- Will not back down from a challenge, ever. It’s kinda a problem.

- She has such a sweet laugh :’) It’s so bouncy and melodic and she scrunches her nose. She WILL snort and it’s the cutest thing ever. Yes she’s ticklish, but no one gets more than five seconds of laughter out of her before she turns the tables. 

- World’s meanest ler. Not only is she frequently on the prowl, she is near-ruthless, especially if she’s been baited. Once she sets her sights on someone, she won’t rest until she’s heard their laugh. 

- Diana is very mischievous and loves hearing her friends laugh. It’s impossible to be in her vicinity for more than five minutes without at LEAST a few pokes. She is not above just,,, random tickles either. 

- Nails. That is all. 

Arthur Curry

- Why are his tiddies always out? Someone please explain.

- The most targeted for pranks ever. Diana especially. Something about him just attracts goblinism. 

- He’s coming for Clark’s bear hugger crown. He picks people up so often that they’re just used to it now. 

- Playfighting and roughhousing is his love language. He absolutely loves wrestling with anyone who’ll humor him. He and Diana frequently tussle because they’re both good sports about it (Bruce is a little bit of a sore loser. Just a smidge). 

- Thinks he can get away with anything, which is decidedly not true. He just nopes his way out of the room and everyone’s like D:< get back here and atone for your sins!!! But Arthur’s already in the Pacific Ocean. 

- I like to think he’s ticklish, just not super ticklish y’know? He probably has a couple hidden spots that make him lose it though. Like he’ll definitely laugh and fall over, but he can and will fight back. Oh boy, will he fight back. 

- Batman: No fear.

Diana and Arthur sneaking up behind him:

Batman: One fear. 

- Y’know that picture of Jason Momoa sneaking up behind Henry Cavill on the red carpet? That is extremely relevant. Arthur loves to sneak up behind people and just...take them down. 

- Thinks Barry is annoying (affectionate) and the two of them are constantly chasing each other around. Barry is fast but Arthur’s strong (and wayy less ticklish than Barry)

- Physical affection!! He always has his arms around someone’s shoulders or something. He’s just a touchy kind of guy :)

Barry Allen

- Speedy boy! ADHD king! Sometimes his thoughts are also at superspeed, which means he talks way too fast and no one can understand him? But Bruce speaks fluent Barry and he translates often (though not without a labored sigh beforehand). 

- Physically affectionate but casual about it? He likes to play with people’s hands while he’s talking, bump shoulders with whoever he’s next to, etc. He doesn’t really realize he does it either. It’s not uncommon for him to be talking to Clark or Diana and they just...unconsciously give him their hand before he reaches for it.

- Okay so y’know how Bruce feeds the strays? Who do you think lets them in the first place? Barry has tried to adopt every stray he comes across, and when Alfred inevitably says no, Barry runs them to the shelter himself :’)

- Gifting is his love language!!! If he sees anything that remotely reminds him of his friends, he brings it to them. 

- He likes to hang out with Victor because he’s quiet, but doesn’t mind when Barry rambles, which he tends to do quite often. Barry will catch himself rambling and trail off, but Victor will encourage him to keep going, because he’s listening. 

- Thee Pillsbury Doughboy. Just these high-pitched, bouncy, frantic giggles that only get worse and eventually morph into cackles. He hiccups a lot too :’)

- Okay so he’s not a flailer but he’s super squirmy. Barry will cling onto his ler’s arms just to hold onto something. He kicks his legs too (he does this when he’s not being tickled either, if he laughs and he’s sitting somewhere he kicks). He also just constantly tries to crawl away. If he isn’t pinned down he will drag himself to safety. He also has a habit of curling up :’)

- Absolutely invented the speed-tickle. He actually doesn’t often use his powers (unless he’s chasing down Clark, because Clark isn’t above breaking the sound barrier to escape). He’s just got incredible hand-eye coordination and precision. His hands will be absolutely everywhere and he is so teasy about it. 

- Tries not to start fights he can’t finish, but he always gets roped into Clark’s mischief and gets targeted with revenge tickles. 

- He has tickled Clark once. It was incredible, amazing, showstopping, spectacular. Literally his crowning achievement. Did Clark absolutely destroy him afterwards? Yes, but it was so worth it. 

Victor Stone

- Quiet and stoic, but he’s always preferred listening and interjecting with a joke or two. 

- Closest with Barry and Diana, but he’s making an effort to bond with everyone.

- Unfortunately not ticklish :( I like to think soft touches on his face will make him smile and lean away, but it’s not going to get a laugh from him.

- Doesn’t often get involved in tickly shenanigans, but when he does, he surprises everyone with how much fun he has. A different, warmer side of him comes out when he’s among his friends.

- He’s a hugger! Definitely awkward about it, but he loves hugs and just...holding his friends. 

- He collects hoodies. He can’t really feel them when he’s wearing them, but he likes them and the idea of it. Barry seems to slip him a new hoodie every week. Victor has no idea where he gets them from but he’s not complaining. 

- He is an enabler. He will look at Bruce like :| “no, I don’t know where Barry and Clark are, nor do I no what they’re planning” But they’re literally right behind Bruce, about to squeeze his sides. 

- That being said, he won’t do that with Diana. If she asks where they are, he’ll subtly nod his head in their direction. Even in jest, he will never lie to her. Which makes him Thee person to avoid when Diana’s on her mischievous streaks.

[freddie-mercury-rising]

We love Freddie, above all we love his perfect voice, we love his personality, his generosity and kindness, we even love his flaws and we love his delicious, irresistible body. And we love to read and write about him our own way! We are not harming anybody, we are not disrespecting anybody, we are just having fun in a harmless way and whoever doesn't like it can f**k off!

People write all sort of things about their favourite celebrities all around the world. It's something widely accepted and popular!

If you don't like it, don't read it!

When you don't like a book, you don't buy it. Or you read it and throw it away. You don't go screaming at the author for writing what you didn't like. Fanfiction is no difference. Sure, it's about real people, but it's our own version of them. We write about them because we love them not because we want to disrespect them.

Sorry this got long, take care darling.

Keep up the beautiful work!

Yes--100% I love Freddie first and foremost for his music, the legacy I think most of the world appreciates him for. I love Freddie not only for his amazing, ethereal, gorgeous voice, but for his ability to produce music that transcends boundaries and decades and still speaks directly to our hearts. This man was a musician and a creator that blessed our world and united us in a way that not many other musicians ever could.

Then, top it off with the fact that Freddie was such a kind, loving, generous guy (according to those who knew and loved him). It's apparent in how much he cared about his fans and always delivered such joy and happiness during his concerts. He wanted to make people smile and feel happy, even if it was only for the time it took to listen to one of Queen's records or attend a concert. I don't think he even realized how much his music meant to so many people beyond just the momentary thrill, although I hope he did.

Another thing I love about Freddie is that he was not afraid to be irreverent and play with people. Sure, he may not have been open to the press about his private life, but it seems like he never actively tried to hide the fact that he was a gay man. That topic is deep and complex, so I won't get into it, but he said a lot of funny things in public that showed he did not take sex too seriously. Those are the best kinds of people (and the best lovers *ahem*): those who can have fun and play with sex, play with perceptions of sex, and aren't afraid to laugh about it.

When I write fan fiction, I write about my own characterization of Freddie. I know for a fact it is not real, but it is not supposed to be. I am not a biographer or a historian. I write to entertain myself and others, using a man who not only passed away 30 years ago, but who said things like "bigger is better...in everything," with a cheeky little smile, or "four cocks fighting--oh it's getting nice, this"--on camera! He talked about his own cock and the cocks of his bandmates onstage more than once. He said hilarious, sexual things all the time. So one random woman writing smutty stories for fun and for the titillation of other fans is probably not the worst thing .

Also, your main point was highlighted in red. As I grew up, one of the most valuable things I learned in life was that the world doesn't revolve around me. I'm not going to get along with every human I encounter. I'm not going to agree with everyone. And I certainly don't expect the world to curate itself to my preferences and likes. I can decide who I want to associate with in my personal life. I can decide what books to buy and what movies to watch. And I have a right to decide if something is not to my liking and discard it accordingly. What I have never thought to do is to go and take time and energy to try and stop someone from creating content that doesn't appeal to MY personal preferences. I'm not perfect, but that level of entitlement is far beyond my mental capacity.

There are plenty of causes to take up. There are occasions when it is appropriate to challenge or debate or stand up for what one believes. But, some people spend their lives fighting against invisible enemies. In my past, I used to get up on a soapbox at every chance I could. I would fight with people who weren't really against me at all. I would worry myself to death trying to argue so that I could prove that someone was actually against me, so that I could justify my argument. It was a vicious cycle that was exhausting and unproductive. If you're looking to be offended, you will be. If you're looking for negativity in the world, you won't have trouble finding it.

There are times when people's expression seeks to harm others or denigrate groups of people. Those are times for debate or discussion. In my opinion, writing about my imaginary Freddie character having lots of sex does not pose a harm to anyone. Freddie has been dead 30 years. His friends and family would have to log onto AO3 and specifically search for smutty material in order to read it. I am not publishing it in newspapers or magazines or profiting from it. I am not forcing it upon anyone. Even though I don't owe anyone a tag or a trigger warning, I always tag my work or make notes to indicate its content, especially if I feel it might not be someone's cup of tea. In the end, though, what I cannot do is stop writing what makes me happy simply because it is misconstrued by a small subset of people who have sought that material expressly to critique it.

Thank you so very much for your support! It means so much to me. Sometimes, I do let the bastards get me down, but other times, they only inspire me to keep going and to keep pushing boundaries.

[chuckbass-love]

hi! i wanted to request a smutty fic w prompt 100 with ransom and reader. maybe they were at a party and someone was hitting on reader and touching her and ransom got mad. 🤗

Hi love! Again, to everyone (including you) that has sent in a request, i’m sorry it’s taken so long. I feel bad for making people wait but i never wanna upload work that’s anything short of great in my eyes. I always want to be at my best. This didn’t quite go the way i wanted it to but i really hope it’s still good. Everyone reading, please feel free to leave feedback. It helps and is very appropriated.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Prompt #100: “Call me selfish, but i don’t ever want anyone else touch you”

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, swearing, smut, sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, slight ownership kink (if you squint) and daddy kink. 18+

Word Count: 3,563

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @kylosrehn go check them out💜

Over My Dead Body

When making plans for the weekend with Ransom, going to a party full of stuck up rich people wasn’t exactly on your agenda. But, seeing it’s part of his lifestyle, you made an exception and besides it was yet another party hosted by his grandfather Harlan. 

You never used to attend these parties since Ransom never invited you. He preferred to keep your interactions strictly bedroom related, nothing more, nothing less. It was beginning to confuse the hell out of you because sometimes on a rare occasion, he’d let you meet his friends and family.

But as previously stated, it’s rare.

When the two of you first met, sparks flew instantly. Your friend had introduced you, she was on a date with her boyfriend, her boyfriend brought him along just like she brought you along.

Their way of setting you two up. And it worked.

A solid 2 hours after meeting the man, he was balls deep inside of you making you forget your own name and turning you into a moaning mess underneath him. Since then you’ve been hooked. Whenever either of you are horny, you fuck.

But like any other fuck buddy relationships, there’s a catch. You two have a clear love for each other, one that neither of you will ever be brave enough to admit. Mostly because Ransom is a huge commitment phobe. The thought of only being with one girl for the rest of his life scares him and you just don’t admit your feelings because the thought of being rejected weighs heavier than the optimism of it working out in your favour.

 Although he’s scared of settling down, Ransom sure did seem keen to bring you along with him to this party tonight which now you come to think of it, he’s been like that the last few times he’s taken you out.

Maybe he’s changing his mind.

“Red wine?” you hear, turning your head to see the man himself holding a wine glass for you and a tumbler glass for himself, no doubt filled with whiskey on the rocks. He does love his whiskey after all.

“Thank you, so tell me again. Why am i here?”  you ask before taking a rather large sip of your wine, you certainly need liquid courage if you’re going to talk to these people.

“Who else would i have brought?” he responds, voice monotone, almost as if he’s bored and very uninterested. So all this time you thought there was a possibility of him changing his mind when in reality, he’s just been bringing you along to all of these lavish parties to keep up appearances.

No doubt to keep that controlling mother off of his back.

You shrug, continuing to look around as Ransom greets some of his grandfathers guests. One of them looks at you before looking at Ransom who eventually introduces you two, attempting to strike up some small talk until he’s being dragged away to talk to a group of men who no doubt are a lot older than him. Leaving you stood all alone.

That’s when you spot a guy across the room. He looks around Ransoms age. Tall, expensive suit, blonde hair and blue eyes. Plus he seems friendly. He raises his hand to wave and you reluctantly strut over, greeting him with a shy smile which he reciprocates.

“So, what’s a beautiful woman like yourself doing stood all alone?” his compliment has you flustered and unsure how to respond but still, you find the words “thank you and i’m not alone, i came here with Ra-”

“Ransom Drysdale, yeah i saw you with him, where did he disappear to?”

“I have no idea, off talking to random strangers” you chuckle nervously, feeling slightly embarrassed about his absence. Little do you know, Ransom can see you with this mystery man, gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw at the sight of you laughing.

Surely he can’t be that funny, he thinks to himself. But he is. He’s hilarious.

“So what do you think drew her to him then?” you giggle, gesturing to the couple next to you, a woman who’s dressed up to the nines with her husband who looks a lot older than her “oh obviously his looks, what makes you question her intentions?” he smirks and you shove him playfully.

“Oh of course. What was i thinking? Silly me” you wink, downing the rest of your drink in seconds before he takes another flute of champagne off of the waitresses tray for you.

“If i didn’t know any better i’d say you’re trying to get me drunk sir” you say using your best posh voice. Unbeknownst to you though, Ransom can hear your whole conversation, every single thing you’re saying to this man.

But can he really be mad? You’re only talking to, right? Besides he’s not exactly your boyfriend so you’re free to talk to whoever you want. Not that you want anyone else.

What he won’t admit now though is how jealous he is right now, he’s had just about enough of another man making you laugh the way that he’s supposed to make you laugh and now the only way this man is taking you home is over his dead body. But for now, he’s gonna make use of his best poker face, side eyeing the two of you on the sly as anger starts to build.

You start to look around the room yourself, trying to find Ransom and as you do, you spot him heading over to the drinks table so you decide to take that as your opportunity to excuse yourself, joining your date.

“Hey you” you bump him, a cheesy grin plastered across your face, one that fades as quickly as it appeared thanks to Ransoms straight and unimpressed expression.

You stand in front of him, blocking his access to the drinks “is everything okay?” but instead of an answer, you get silence. No response whatsoever. Why is he ignoring you?

“Ransom?” 

“What?” he mutters, evidently agitated “what’s wrong?”

He chuckles in response, shoving past you to get his drink and lifting the tumbler to his plump pink lips, practically gulping it down without even so much as a flinch “oh don’t worry, everything is fine. Hey why don’t you go back to your little conversation with Mr Perfect will you” and just like that, he’s storming away from you and up the stairs to the second floor, instantly regretting sending you back to that man.

What could have gotten him so wound up?

If seeing you with that guy is the problem then maybe he shouldn’t have left you.

And without a second more to overthink and fester over his random outburst, you return to the other gentleman. One who knows how to treat you with respect as opposed to shutting you out.

“Hello again” he beams “i was about to say your name but then i remembered we never exchanged those”

“I’m Y/N”

“Jack”

“Nice to meet you Jack”

“Likewise”

The two of you shake hands as another conversation sparks up, pushing all Ransom related thoughts to the back of your already full brain.

Whilst Ransom is sat in the bathroom. Flustered, angry and ready to blow his lid at something so small. A situation that means nothing. That man means nothing to you, surely. You’re just being friendly, after all he did leave you to go and socialise. What did he expect you to do? Stand in the corner away from everyone?

You don’t want this guy though. Jack is just a friend you’ve made here. You want Ransom and he wants you too but his pride is in the way.

God what is wrong with him?

Evidently a lot.

One minute he’s all over you, taking you to parties and the next he’s giving you the silent treatment and acting like you’ve done something wrong.

And the only reason for his odd behaviour is because of the plan he made for tonight. Anyone who knows Ransom knows very well about his thoughts on relationships but with you, things are different and they always have been. You force him out of his comfort zone, you challenge him and you make him better. He was so nervous for tonight that the second the two of you arrived at the party he was drinking and acting strange.

As much as the thought of settling down scares him, he knows that it’s much better to tell you than watch you leave and find someone new. Seeing you with that guy only confirmed that. 

After spending who knows how long in the bathroom trying to talk himself out of kicking up a fuss, he heads back down to the party, maybe he should go and spend more time with you but as he walks down the stairs, he instantly spots you and that same guy again. His hand is on your arm and you’re way too close for his liking. Close enough to make his skin crawl and his jaw clench even tighter. 

He storms over, hearing his voice as he does so.

“So i know you came here with Ransom but i was wondering if i could maybe get your number?” he asks, scratching the back of his head as he anxiously awaits your reply.

Jacks nerves are abundantly clear until Ransom cuts you off, stopping you from opening your mouth to respond. He tugs on your arm, pulling you back “the answers no, prick” he snaps, dragging you through the crowd and out into the cold night air, barely giving you a chance to say goodbye to anyone and causing goosebumps to form all over your bare arms and legs.

“Ransom what the fuck?” you yell, trying your best to yank your arm from his tight grip “just get in the fucking car” he demands, opening the door for you. How chivalrous of him. His raised voice made you jump a little, cowering slightly and leaving you with no choice but to do as you’re told.

The second he gets in too, he’s shoving the key in the ignition and speeding off away from the party. Jack and all of the crowd long forgotten not just out of sight but out of mind too. Now all you can think about is Ransom and what’s got him so angry all of a sudden as he was pretty happy on the journey here.

You daren’t speak though, god forbid. Your words will only wind him up further.

Knuckles start to turn white as he grips the steering wheel like never before, his fingers tapping frantically which is an obvious indication of his need to get home as soon as physically possible.

You honestly can’t remember if you’ve ever seen him this angry in the whole time you’ve known him and that’s quite literally the scariest thing about this.

Eventually you reach his house, or should you say bachelor pad and he barely waits a second for you to exit the car before he’s storming off into the house without you.

Once you get inside he’s nowhere to be seen until you hear a loud slam of a door coming from upstairs. You head up and into the master bedroom instantly to find him undressing and discarding his clothes across the room. 

“Ransom” you approach him with caution, worry filling your soft and caring voice but the moment you’re a few inches away and about to touch him, he shoots around, scaring you.

“Would you have given him your number?” he questions, his blue eyes looking deep into yours almost like he’s looking into your soul.

“Who? Jack? No, of course not. Why’re you even asking me that?” you protest, hoping he’ll believe you but now you come to think of it, you probably looked way too close for comfort.

“Lies” 

“Why are you being like this?”

“Because it sure seemed like the two of you were getting awfully cosy tonight, laughing, drinking, touching each other” he explains, closing the space between you and making you gulp.

“Well maybe if you hadn’t of treated me like i was invisible all night then i wouldn’t have needed to make friends with him. You forget that you barely said a word the whole time” now you’re the one that’s angry as you step back after your outburst, watching him carefully. His next actions shock you though as he just laughs, turning away and speed walking across the bedroom to the en suite. But before you can even follow him, he slams the door, making you flinch and then as you thought he would, he locked it.

Why can’t he ever be mature enough to talk about things. All he ever does is avoid confrontation. You don’t really like it either but at least you’re trying to sort whatever issue has him all in his feelings and angry.

Rather than sitting and waiting for him to leave the bathroom, you decide to go and get ready for bed in the other one, showering before getting dressed into whatever you can find. Which just so happen to be a shirt of his.

He dries off, wrapping a towel around his waist before unlocking the door and walking out to find you sat on the bed.

“The answer is no and that’s the truth” 

“Oh yeah? Then why was his hands all over you like you were there with him tonight?” 

“That was nothing, we were just laughing. What about you though huh? Snapping at me all night, leaving me and then deciding at the very last second that you want to spend time with me. Felt a lot like just another one of your games” it doesn’t look like he believes you and now you’re over trying to prove yourself.

“I left to talk to people and i was acting funny because going to those parties never end well, i wasn’t playing games with you” he stalks towards you, closing the gap.

Okay, now that makes sense. It explains all about how his behaviour changed when the two of you entered the actual party.

“You know, seeing you with that guy wasn’t easy. I got angry. All this time i thought you knew that you belonged to me, clearly i was wrong” his fingers graze your arm before settling underneath your chin and tilting it up, forcing you to look directly into his eyes.

“Maybe you need a reminder” he’s so close to you now, his hands are all over your waist, moving down agonisingly slow towards your ass. He smacks the backs of both thighs as a signal for you to jump and you do. How can you resist?

His lips attack yours in a brief and passionate kiss before he throws you down to the bed “i’m gonna make you forget all about him” he then removes the towel.

You furrow your brows watching as he lifts your (his) shirt up, revealing your laced panties. His favourite on you. He spreads your legs with his hands as he tugs you to the edge of the bed, kneeling down to press a firm kiss to the inside of both your thighs.

That’s when he does what he always does, turns you into a moaning mess by devouring your pussy like a man starved. Sucking, slurping and flicking his tongue all over your sex effortlessly like your body was made for him. Just how you felt the first time he ever touched and tasted you.

“Mhmm, just like that” you run your fingers through his styled locks, messing them up without a care. “I’m the only one for you" he mumbles and it vibrates onto your clit making you giggle.

“You’ve always been the only one” you whisper and he looks up at you with lustful eyes but also a look of love. One you’ve not seen before or maybe you’ve never noticed.

The way he looks at you isn’t new but all this time you’ve assumed it’s because of his attraction to you, that he’s only looking at you that way because of his uncontrollable lust.

“Only i am allowed to touch you like this, taste you” his lips wrap around your clit, sucking like his life depends on it as his thick digits tease your dripping entrance “s’wet sweetness”

You tug a little harder as you lift your bum off of the bed, grinding yourself on his face with a burning desire for that sweet release, the one only he has been able to give you “that’s it sweetness, cum all over my face, cum for daddy” his low and raspy voice spurring you on and talking dirty sends you over that edge as you cum with a loud moan. Quicker than usual.

You try to push him off as you scrunch your eyes closed, seeing stars. All you can focus on is how sensitive you are but he’s cleaning you up with his tongue, clearly can’t get enough of how you taste.

“Always so sweet” he gets back up, moving you further up the bed and parting your legs as he hovers above you with his fingers making quick work to slip your panties to the side. The tip of his cock rests at your entrance as he dips his head to capture your lips with his tongue pushing past them and into your mouth to battle with your tongue.

You can taste yourself on him and that alone arouses you leading you to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his torso “i need you, now” you plead, urging him to give you what you want, which he does. He pushes in slowly at first, seating himself deep inside before really moving. 

His pace gets going, rocking his hips back and forth, making sure to fill you up all the way as you claw at his back, your mouth hanging open in the perfect O shape “fuck, daddy it feels so good” you groan moving with him in his thrusts.

“Feel good baby?” he pants, resting his head in the crook of your neck, placing open mouthed kisses to your weak spot “tell daddy how good it feels sweetness. Use your words” he growls and you lift his head up so you can kiss him, cupping his face with one hand “it feels incredible, please don’t stop”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Wanna feel that pussy cream all over my cock. Give it to me sweetness” he licks his index and middle fingers before pressing them down on your clit hard, rubbing aggressively as his pace turns animalistic.

He’s ramming into you with such vigor, his breath fanning your shoulder and the noises he’s making are a far cry from just moaning. No he’s not moaning, he’s upset too or at least bothered by something.

“Can feel you squeezing me sweetness, you close?” he kisses your shoulder but this time he’s more gentle, almost as if he’s afraid of breaking you.

“Yes, oh my god i’m gonna cum. Please, keep going” 

The two of you move more frantically. Desperately chasing a joint release.

Grunts, growls and the sound of skin slapping together fills the room, the sound bouncing off of the walls as you both near closer. That’s when you turn the tables around, kissing his neck this time, biting too.

“I’m gonna cum daddy”

“God i love you so much, cum with me” 

3.2.1

And you’re legs are shaking in the air, his cock starts to twitch before he coats your walls with his hot seed.

“I love you too”

As he looks back into your eyes, you see it, the tears brimming and threatening to spill but he quickly kisses you, knowing full well that it’ll distract you but not this time. You pull back to look again but he only moves.

“You know i don’t think i was ever angry at you” he starts, standing up to retrieve the towel “it was him. Seeing him flirting with you only made me realise what i wanted” you get off of the bed now, approaching him “call me selfish, but i don’t ever want anyone else to touch you” he rests his forehead to yours, his hands resting on your waist “you’re mine, plain and simple”

“You never were one to do things the easy way” the two of you laugh before he kisses you “the easy way is boring”

Although you’re shocked about his confession, you daren’t pry more right now on his feelings. For now you just want to enjoy this moment. The two of you feel the same and that’s enough for you.

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

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LMK if you wanna be added to my tag list.

[stxphxn-strange]

(no) rest for the innocent

summary: Tony wasn’t even on trial, but the jury found him guilty and he couldn’t disagree.

a/n: idk last night i was thinking about tony dealing w survivor’s guilt after endgame (and IW) so i threw this together, tw for mention of death and implied thoughts of suicide

“Good evening, Doctor.” FRIDAY’s warm, pleasant voice always reminded Stephen of home and cinnamon scented candles. “How was your trip?” 

“Too long for a meeting that could’ve been handled over email. Or through carrier pigeon, as Tony would say,” Stephen replied as his cloak sailed off down the hall. 

He washed his hands carefully, drying them on an Iron Man dish towel that Peter had given them as a joke wedding gift before putting the kettle on. 

As the water was boiling, he noticed a covered plate on the kitchen counter. There was an obnoxiously orange piece of paper in front of it, which made Stephen smile. Tony always left him little notes on purposefully electrifying paper, that way they were easy to find. 

The sorcerer’s smile only widened as he read the note. 

Steph— 

I wasn’t sure when you’d be back, but I decided to make you dinner anyway. But not because I’m missing you and wanted to surprise you, I just accidentally cooked too much. You know how that happens sometimes and you just end up with an ungodly amount of chicken parm? Life’s funny like that. 

Anyway, I’m in the lab. I had some good ideas earlier and I wanted to start them while I still felt productive. Welcome home sweetheart, and if you go to bed before I do (because you probably will, you responsible asshole you), sweet dreams and goodnight. 

Love, Tones

PS— Orange you glad you met me? … don’t answer that, I just couldn’t help it and had to write that down. 

Stephen rolled his eyes fondly. “Fri, will you tell Tony that even though he’s not funny, I’m very glad I met him?” 

FRIDAY was quiet for a few moments before responding. “Boss says, quote, ‘fuck you Gandalf, I’m hilarious,’ unquote.” 

Stephen smiled, heating up his meal before sitting down to eat. He flipped through a magazine while he ate, FRIDAY turning on some soft jazz music as background noise until Stephen cleaned up and left the kitchen. After a refreshing shower, the sorcerer found himself in his most comfortable pjs and slippers as he walked through the house. Stephen wasn’t sure if he was going to bed yet, but he wanted to see Tony (and maybe he wanted a kiss or two or even three). 

The music in the lab automatically lowered when Stephen shut the door behind him, and Tony looked up with an expression that could only be described as tired. 

Actually, he looked exhausted. Weary. Barely holding himself together. Stephen wasn’t a thesaurus, but very concerned about his husband. 

Tony was trying to smile, but he seemed too exhausted to do that and just gave up, not saying anything as Stephen sat beside him. 

“Hi.” Stephen leaned over and softly kissed his husband’s temple. “Thanks for cooking for me, you didn’t have to.” 

Tony shrugged. “I had a lot of energy earlier, and I accidentally cooked way too much. Maybe it was intentional, you know I’d take any excuse to go out of my way for you.” 

His words said one thing, but his tone betrayed him. His voice was brittle, hard, and almost staticky. Stephen thought he sounded like a rusted hinge that was trying not to cry out for repairs… or maybe that analogy only made sense given where they were. 

Stephen kissed him again as Tony sat back at his desk, closing his well-used sketchbook. “You alright?” 

“Yeah. Tired I guess.” Tony sounded as unconvinced as Stephen felt. 

“Come to bed with me,” Stephen offered. “I’ll bore you to sleep by telling you about the meeting.” 

Tony laughed hollowly. “That bad?” 

“I don’t know how to describe it, but it was a waste of time. Even Wong was bored, and he watches the Antiques Roadshow remake for fun,” Stephen replied. He yawned and leaned against Tony’s side. 

“I see what you’re doing,” Tony murmured, trying to be lighthearted. He was just feeling some kind of way right now, he felt serious and was so endeared by his husband that it hurt. 

“What am I doing?” Stephen asked, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder. 

“Being cute and sweet so I’ll go to bed and let you be the big spoon,” Tony accused. “And maybe I just really fucking need a hug, but… it’s working.” 

Stephen shifted and pulled Tony into his arms, holding the mechanic close as he went lax. 

“My Boss Is Singing Closing Time Protocol please, Fri,” Tony mumbled. 

“Goodnight Boss, goodnight Doctor,” the AI replied, beginning to run the lab’s standard closing protocol. 

“Portal?” Stephen asked. Tony was getting better with going through portals, but some days were harder than others. Stephen didn’t know what tonight would be like and opted to ask, selfishly wanting to make sure Tony got some rest as soon as possible. 

He was so out of it by that point that Stephen wasn’t sure if Tony registered the question, but he nodded slowly and trusted Stephen to lead him through it and into their bed. 

Despite “resembling a sloth clinging to a tree bough,” (Tony’s words) Stephen was intuitive and knew when not to hug Tony. Even when he was asleep, if Tony woke up thrashing or fighting against something in a dream, Stephen let him go. 

Tonight was a bit different. Stephen wasn’t brought to the edge of reality by Tony thrashing in their bed or accidentally tangling himself in their sheets, so he assumed everything was fine. That was until the sorcerer hugged his husband closer, still mostly asleep and just following his instinct, and Tony outright begged Stephen to let go of him. He wasn’t quite awake, but Stephen backed off immediately and heard Tony trip over his own feet as he left the room. The sorcerer fell asleep again after that, trying to stop the sound of Tony’s broken plea from cementing itself in his memory. When Tony climbed back into bed some time later, Stephen was stirring a little bit more. Tony hid his face in Stephen’s collarbone and said nothing, his breathing still slightly erratic. 

“Sorry if I woke you up,” he mumbled. 

“Don’ be,” Stephen replied, his voice unsure whether or not to wake up. 

“Will you hold me again?” Tony asked pleadingly, his voice almost imperceptible. 

Stephen wordlessly obliged, kissing the top of his head. “Whatever’s bothering you… you can talk to me about it. When you’re ready. And you don’t have to, but I’m here for you.” 

Tony nodded. “It feels like too much right now. What I’m thinking about, I mean. I need time to process, I guess.” 

“Okay,” Stephen said simply. “But I’m here for you whenever.”

“I know. I love you,” Tony replied. 

Stephen began to trace soothing patterns on Tony’s back. “Love you Tones.” 

++++

Tony didn’t seem any more rested the next day, but his confident Tony Stark™ pose seemed natural. He’d easily be able to fool people who didn’t know him as well as his family did. So it was a “fake it until you make it” kind of day, and Tony’s energy was on a strict schedule. There was only so much he could take today, and if his teammates wanted to call him selfish then that was their choice. 

It would just go in one ear and out the other, especially this late in the day and after brutal team training. Tony was close to skipping the meeting, but a cutting remark in the hallway made him change his mind. Why did they always act like it was breaking news when Tony needed to step back from something anyway? He was just as human as anyone else, and the world was happy to throw responsibilities on his unenhanced, steady shoulders just because he was a natural caretaker. 

The arguments about Tony’s quiet, withdrawn demeanor started two minutes into the meeting. Stephen was ready to defend his husband as soon as they got to the conference room, Tony collapsing into a chair and leaning his head against the cool metal of the table. 

He didn’t want to talk today, and Stephen didn’t want him to. 

“It’s not nap time, Stark.” There was a small hint of fondness in Natasha’s cold, clipped voice. 

Tony was already regretting his decision to show up, wishing he hadn’t told Stephen again and again that he was fine. He wasn’t, and they both knew it. Everyone knew it, but Tony knew better than to advocate for himself in front of his… colleagues. 

“I don’t even remember what we’re meeting about,” Tony muttered, looking up enough to address whoever was talking to him. 

Rhodey took a seat beside Tony, encouragingly patting his back. “You good?” 

“I’m fine, Honeybear,” Tony replied. He was sitting between his two favorite people, and that helped him feel a little more grounded. “I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

Someone scoffed. “I don’t think anyone’s slept right in months. And don’t say you haven’t slept in years, Stark. We don’t need a story about how everything you’ve ever done has led to years of sleepless nights. We know already. Put it in a book or something and make the team more money so I can have better arrows.” 

Stephen was two seconds away from dropping the archer into the Dark Dimension, or flipping a table. He wasn’t sure how to handle the man yet, still taken aback by the rudeness and stupidity of his comment. “Barton, what the fuck—” 

“Steph, don’t bother with him,” Tony said. He stood up, forcing his tiredness into a corner and giving his coworkers a confident glare. “Pardon me for giving it my all and being a bit tired as a result. Now I’m going to get an ice pack for my shoulder and maybe a cup of coffee. Does anyone want anything?” 

“I’ll take a—”

“Get it yourself, you know where the kitchen is.” 

For dramatic effect (and moral support), the cloak landed on Tony’s shoulders and billowed out as he left the room. He returned with the aforementioned ice and coffee, and a mug of tea for Stephen. 

“You didn’t have to do that sweetheart, but thank you,” Stephen said appreciatively. 

“That’s why I wanted to,” Tony replied. He relaxed a little into his chair, starting to believe he could get through the meeting. 

Then, like clockwork, Clint opened his mouth to complain. 

“Why did you bring him tea and nothing for the rest of us?” He whined. 

“Doesn’t Tony do enough for you?” Stephen asked, innocently taking a sip of his tea. It was his afternoon green tea, made exactly the way he liked it. 

Tony was always so sweet and attentive with his loved ones, it warmed Stephen’s heart. The sorcerer stifled a laugh as Rhodey poured half of Tony’s coffee into his own empty mug. 

“Thank you,” the colonel said impishly. “Consider the roommate tax paid for this month.” 

Tony tried to smile at the old inside joke, but Stephen noticed that it fell flat. 

“Are we done with the interruptions? We need to talk about what’s out there. We don’t know if Thanos is the exception or the rule, and—”

Tony stopped listening. Clint’s snootiness was doing his head in, but the idea of another threat, another thing, another colossus he’d have to conquer and survive if his luck had anything to say about it… that was the breaking point. 

Tony didn’t have a good relationship with luck. He didn’t really believe in it, but apparently it believed in him. Because Tony was lucky. It was true that he was lucky in meeting his husband, his friends, and his family, but this was a different kind of luck. Tony was intelligent and skilled, shrewd and savvy, and there was virtually nothing he couldn’t do or solve, except for one thing. 

He was constantly lucky, constantly cheating death. 

And he didn’t realize that he was hyperventilating, didn’t recall dropping his head into his hands. He didn’t recall that he’d just walked out in the middle of the meeting after a minute, didn’t realize that he was home when he opened his eyes. 

Tony was home, in his spot on the couch in Stephen’s library. Stephen was sitting beside him, quietly watching a documentary or something like that. Tony was laying down, his head in Stephen’s lap with the cloak draped over him like a blanket. The crimson fabric continued to cling to him as he sat up, further proving Tony’s point that Levi liked him best, but he wasn’t in the mood to banter now. He just appreciated the support and the warmth of his sorcerer and their shared, sentient blanket.

With some hesitancy, Tony leaned over and rested his head on Stephen’s shoulder. They locked eyes for a minute, Tony’s gaze deliriously bright and vacant. 

Stephen didn’t know what to say or do to make the man trembling in his arms feel better, but started by hugging him closer and softly stroking up and down his spine. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispered, lowering his head and hiding against Stephen’s chest. 

“No apologies,” Stephen reminded him. “I don’t want or need them, and you don’t have to explain yourself.” 

“I have to give a good reason,” Tony said, his voice beginning to shake. “Everything I do needs a reason.” 

“Why? Says who?” Stephen asked. He was more thinking aloud, half expecting Tony to leave the question unanswered. 

For a while, he did. He just sat, furiously trying to blink back tears and gather his thoughts as Stephen held him protectively. 

“Sometimes I think about… things,” Tony began vaguely. “And people. And places. I guess I just like nouns.” 

At this point, he didn’t even know if he was trying to deflect or just tell a joke, but his attempt at humor fell flat. He tried to force a laugh, but halfway through it turned into a painful sob. He cried harder with each breath, ignoring the ache in his chest. Tony barely listened when Stephen encouraged him to breathe, but eventually he gave into his exhaustion and listened to his lungs. 

His stupid lungs, which apparently were just as stubborn as his brain. 

“I can’t keep doing this,” Tony whispered. “I shouldn’t have survived Afghanistan, New York, Sokovia, Siberia, or Titan. I can’t keep cheating death, Stephen. I don’t want to. I don’t want to be lucky and survive when the damage I’ve caused, the damage I claim full responsibility for, has taken so many lives. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt or killed for me.” 

Stephen pressed a soft kiss to his hair, feeling Tony’s guit and fatigue as if it was his own. 

“I don’t want to do this,” Tony repeated. “I’m probably just spiraling or being needlessly selfish, but  I… I don’t know.” 

“You’re taking on too much responsibility where you don’t need to,” Stephen said. “I know that’s easy for me to just say from the outside, but you aren’t the only Avenger. It’s about time the team, if you can even call them that, takes accountability for their actions and stops bulldozing you with their problems. You aren’t selfish, Tones. You’re tired and overworked, and you deserve a break. You deserve to breathe, to just exist without feeling like you have to look over your shoulder or justify your every step.” 

“I don’t think I know how to even do that anymore,” Tony replied. “And I don’t deserve it.” 

“You do,” Stephen argued. “And rest assured I’ll keep telling you that. And I’ll keep telling you how much I love you, because I really do.” 

Tony smiled sadly, trying to press himself closer to Stephen if that was even possible. “I love you too.” 

He was starting to settle down, soothed by a flurry of soft kisses in his hair and the gentle brushes up and down his spine, when FRIDAY quietly spoke up. She almost sounded remorseful. 

“Mister Parker is requesting one or both of you in the lab, whenever it’s convenient,” she began. “And he’s asked me to assure you that it’s nothing major.” 

Tony sighed, sitting up again. “I’ll investigate.” 

Stephen shook his head. “No, let me. I’ll tell Peter that you’re resting, and he’ll understand.” 

“I don’t want him to think I don’t care,” Tony whispered. 

“He would never think that. You know how he gets about making sure you take care of yourself, and Peter knows with certainty that you care about him. Our son is much more mature than the Avengers,” Stephen replied. 

“I still feel bad,” Tony said. 

“I know. I can promise him Thai food if that’ll make you feel better?” Stephen suggested, half jokingly. 

“It actually would,” Tony admitted. “FRIDAY, will you schedule a Thai food delivery for 6:30pm please?” 

“Scheduled,” she replied simpy. She still sounded apologetic for disturbing them right as Tony was falling asleep, but maybe Stephen imagined that. 

The sorcerer stood up gracefully, covering Tony with another blanket as the cloak wrapped a bit tighter around him. “Look after yourself and relax, or get some sleep. No one’s expecting anything from you right now Tones, alright? I love you.” 

Tony nodded, a little smile on his face as Stephen kissed him again. “Love you.” 

He really wanted to sleep. He actually put effort into falling asleep, which was something he never thought he’d do, and of course sleep didn’t come easily. Sleep never came easily, but the memories did. It was all too easy for Tony to get caught in a thought stream, whether he was planning a surprise, inventing, or remembering unpleasantries. Today he was overwhelmed by guilt, readily convincing himself that he was a selfish failure like Howard Stark and his teammates liked to say. It was too easy to get lost in their ire and wanting to please everyone, and Tony had given up so much of his agency just to try and make other people happy. 

It was exhausting, and he didn’t even feel like he’d succeeded at that. 

The mechanic started tearing up again as he continued to think in a circular pattern, faintly aware of the Cloak trying to comfort him. It was a sweet, welcome gesture, and Tony let it happen and let himself cry. He was still laying there in tears when Stephen came back in half an hour later.

“Pete says he hopes you feel better,” Stephen said, returning to his spot and pulling Tony close. “And I told him to just go ahead and eat whenever he’s hungry, or when the food gets here.” 

Tony just nodded, feeling relieved and supported in Stephen’s arms again. He nodded again, as if trying to shake the unending self-deprecating thoughts from his head, before saying anything. “Sounds good.”

tags: @salty-ironstrange-shipper @stark-strange-love2 @chocopiggy @katninjagirl97 @kitkatfat15 @taruyison @funkylittlebidiot

[onebizarrekai]

I think that lucia di lammermoor is one of my new favorite operas not just because of the mad scene but because the opera makes no sense whatsoever

there are literally so many plot holes in the libretto. there are so many unexplained facets of the narrative, unresolved arcs, dialogues that mandate copious creative liberties, things that only happen off-stage, and some unsolvable problems that can only be fixed by cutting things or directing things a certain way. there’s so much nonsense it’s actually hilarious. if you read the source story of the bride of lammermoor the opera diverts quite a bit, but the bride of lammermoor is actually even worse, so let’s put that to the side.

let’s just start from the beginning of the opera, paraphrasing as much as possible. lucia’s evil brother, enrico, is the first lead to greet the stage, minutes after his goony normano. normano tells enrico the tale of how enrico’s archenemy, edgardo, saved the life of lucia, and he reluctantly admits that they are now in love with each other and are secretly meeting up all the time. enrico flips his shit and sings about how he’s going to kill edgardo or whatever. bide the bent (aka raimondo, but schirmir really said bide the bent, whatever the hell that means) exists and does priest stuff because he’s a priest. by the way, there’s this whole thing about how the ashton family (aka lucia and enrico) are protestant and edgardo is catholic and that’s why they hate each other and that’s why there’s a priest.

anyway they all leave, and then lucia and alice enter. lucia is, naturally, waiting for her illegal boyfriend: edgardo. she is very scared because enrico is a piece of shit and wants to kill her boyfriend. alice is like “yo man this is a bad idea” and lucia is like “where’s edgardo” but lucia is also perturbed by something else. she has a ghost story to tell about this nondescript fountain and tells alice about the girl who was killed by her lover at this fountain, and then suddenly goes like “by the way the ghost of the dead woman appeared to me” and like wow ok lucia. after singing about all of the water turning to blood in her hallucination, she proceeds to completely change moods and sing about how much she loves edgardo because she is crazy. after all of this, edgardo finally arrives and tells lucia about how he actually has to go to france to do ambassador stuff and disappear for an indefinite period of time. he says that they should finally tell enrico about their relationship. lucia completely shuts him down, and then edgardo cries about how enrico has killed his family and how she’s the only light of his life. they end up deciding to keep their relationship a secret anyway and then vow to marry each other.

act 2, enrico has ordered normano to forge a break-up letter from edgardo to send it to lucia. normano shows up to give it to enrico, enrico summons lucia into wherever he is to tell her that he needs to marry her off to some other guy in order to save their family. lucia is like “but I’m marrying someone else” and enrico is like “oh yeah? read this” and gives her the letter, and lucia naturally breaks down because it’s a big lie about how edgardo has found someone else in france. she cries about it until this big fanfare plays to welcome her new husband, arturo. at this point lucia is singing about nothing except how much death would benefit her right now. enrico leaves after being an asshole for a few more minutes, and then in comes bide the bent to lecture lucia about the invalidity of her previous marital vows. she leaves to change into a wedding gown.

enter arturo, this random loser that enrico wants lucia to marry. his lines are so cliché that he’s probably reading them off a sheet of paper (which is exactly how we staged the production I am currently doing). somehow arturo knows about lucia’s affair with edgardo because those two were actually horrible at being secretive, but also he doesn’t care because he gets to marry a hottie. enrico tells arturo about how lucia’s mother died and that’s why she’s crying about the wedding. lo and behold, lucia enters and she is crying. they hold the wedding right then and there under the Authority™ of bide the bent, enrico forces lucia to sign the wedding documents, and then everyone is like “wait who’s at the door?” and then EDGARDO BREAKS IN and he’s like “EDGAAAAAARDO” and they sing a whole sextet that borders a confusion ensemble except it’s a bel canto tragedy.

edgardo is like “yeah man! it’s my right to be here since I’m engaged to lucia!” and enrico is like “PSH” and bide the bent comes up like “sorry she just signed this Other Marriage Contract” and shows it to edgardo and edgardo is like WHAT and he comes up to lucia like BRUH YOU DONE THIS?? and lucia doesn’t even know what’s happening at this point, she’s just like “yes?? but” and then edgardo takes off his ring and hers and then throws a temper tantrum before he gets kicked out.

behold the wolf’s craig duet, the most stupid and pointless thing in this opera considering what happens later. enrico barges into edgardo’s house and they sing about how they’re going to kill each other and duel at the graveyard. that’s it. there’s probably sexual tension.

after that, there’s a wedding party, except with a Horrifying Twist. lucia goes upstairs with arturo and fucking kills him. having lost her mind, she comes out covered in blood and sings for like twenty minutes in a very impressive manor. she collapses on the floor at the very end.

there’s a random recit right afterwards where enrico, bide the bent and normano briefly talk about lucia losing her mind. while enrico is crying about lucia, bide the bent literally blames normano of all people, who did exactly nothing, for every bad thing that happened to lucia.

the final scene begins at the graveyard. now, I know what you’re thinking. edgardo and enrico promised to duel each other here, right? right! so where the hell is enrico? I dunno, not here. edgardo is here, and he’s crying and stuff about his dead father. he’s very sad and probably wants to perish. a chorus shows up mourning something. edgardo asks about it and no one wants to tell him. bide the bent appears in all his priestliness and tells edgardo that lucia is now in heaven. how did she die? beats me. she died of insanity or something. edgardo has lost the final thing in his life that matters to him, so he decides to “go see her” and stabs himself.

the opera ends.

welcome to lucia di lammermoor. now, some of these plot holes are resolvable through directing. for example, lucia’s insanity is inexplicable in the libretto. nobody is just sad about their boyfriend and commits murder–granted, her first aria had her singing about a ghost and a fountain of blood. why’s she like this, though? she’s probably not ok. so like, some people explain this by making enrico way way worse than just a big liar. in the production that I’m doing, enrico is being depicted as sexually abusive towards lucia, and like, yeah that helps do some explaining. but you know what it doesn’t help? the parts of the opera that normally get cut, like the stupidass wolf’s craig duet that exists for no reason and usually gets cut because it makes no sense. also, the scene right after the mad scene where bide the bent comically blames normano for everything even though it is clearly enrico’s fault and enrico is randomly mourning lucia even though he was horrible to her for the whole opera. unfortunately, when you have companies like the met, which do full operas with no cuts, you get the whole, nonsensical story in its full glory, not to mention the met tends to shy away from taking creative liberties with the directing.

so like, why do I say this opera is a new favorite? well, aside from it being fun to sing, since I’m doing it for the first time, it’s absolutely hilarious to consider who the real mastermind here is, since for some reason, the librettist seems to think that it’s normano. you have to make up so much subtext in this story in order to even make it begin to make sense, so how far can you take it? how much nonsense can you create?

easy mode is assuming the mastermind is enrico. he’s a horrible person. obviously bide the bent accuses normano because he’s trying to divert the blame from enrico, who may or may not kill him if he says the truth. however, enrico does not go to the graveyard to kill edgardo and tie off loose ends (which I personally think he should have). enrico just kind of disappears, honestly, in spite of being the main bad guy.

bide the bent is another viable option. he blames normano to divert attention from himself. he plays the role of the peacemaker between edgardo and enrico during the sextet, but it’s all a sham. the reason bide the bent appears in the final graveyard scene is because he’s the true villain here. he simply took advantage of everyone around him in order to make sure everything went according to plan. enrico’s bs towards lucia, lucia’s insanity, edgardo’s depression, normano loyalty, the whole deal. he wishes to rise in power… perhaps the reason enrico does not show up in the final scene is because bide the bent has already disposed of him.

what if it was edgardo? what if he and lucia devised a plan to create an opening that would allow them to run away? what if arturo was in on it? lucia pretends to murder arturo, pretends to go insane, and the plan was to finally flee with edgardo… but then they were INTERCEPTED. their plan was ruined. lucia was disposed of by the enemy off-stage and it was too late. they claim she died of insanity, but she was killed by normano under enrico’s orders, or whoever else is the designated evil one here.

in the met, for some reason, they decide to have lucia’s ghost come in during the final scene and silently “coerce” edgardo into ending his life, which sounds cool, but it was ridiculous. I just remember the blood bag being in the wrong place so he had to stab himself in the kidney and lucia actually pushed the prop knife in like she wasn’t literally a ghost. there was also a ghost during lucia’s first aria that totally upstaged her. this opens up many stupid doors for directing such as arturo’s ghost returning as well if need be. anyone’s ghost could be there. ghosts canonically exist at the met. arturo could be fortnite dancing during the mad scene.

behold, a terrible take. edgardo is having a secret affair after all, but he’s having an affair with enrico. enrico is enraged when he discovers edgardo’s relationship with his sister because he thought that THEY had a thing. he vengefully tries to break them up by marrying lucia off to arturo. enrico and edgardo sing the wolf’s craig duet as a not-tragic breakup song.

honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in this goddamn cast was sleeping with each other. the possibilities are endless

during the staging period of the show, we all came up with so many stupid and hilarious ideas that we could stage an entire comedy version of this opera. maybe one day it could happen. maybe…

anyway it’s like midnight and I’m doing my cast’s performance of this opera in two days, and I just drove home a while ago from performance 1 today talking with my family about all of these stupid possibilities, so it’s all on my mind. at least the mad scene is fun to sing

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About “Separate Tides” from The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who most likely won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

...>A-hem< F**KING CALLED IT!

I said that the earliest that The Owl House would return would be late June and early July. And some of YYYOOOUUU sons of witches doubted me by saying it would be fall or winter. Well, guess what! "Separate Tides'' has come and gone, the show is back and better than ever, and we are all happy about it! You see how it pays to be optimistic, you persistent PACK OF PESSIMISTS!

...Sorry. Got a little hot there. I'm just so happy it's BACK!

10 MONTHS! It's been nearly 10 months since this show began its hiatus, large in part because of the pandemic. It was painful. BOY, was it painful. But I can already tell that the new season is going to be well worth the wait just by this episode alone.

But beware you mangey sea dogs! Thar be spoilers ahead when discussing such a premier.

And I swear to you that it's only spoilers for "Separate Tides." I haven't seen "Escaping Expulsion" either, and I promise you will be safe from anybody ruining it for you. But maybe don't read any responses from this post. Thar may be d**ks in these waters. So let's review, shall we!

WHAT I LIKE

Mirroring Season One’s Opening Scene: First off, this is a neat callback to what is the perfect first impression of the series. That scene perfectly introduces us to the type of show The Owl House is, while this one acts as a reintroduction to the world we left for way too long.

Second, this is also a well-hidden character moment. Luz is finally living the life she dreamed of, but it isn't exactly all that she expected. It's a great showcase that despite literally running away to a fantasy world, Luz is still getting a regular dose of reality. And I still love the irony in all of that.

(Plus, King eating the bounty is just funny).

The Recap Recording: This is a smart way to recap events from the season finale. It might be weird that Luz says things that the audience already knows, but she's not talking to us. She's talking to her mom. So she's going to explain all that she can in a way for Camila to fully understand. Besides, not every fan had repeatedly watched The Owl House Season One over and over again like a bunch of frickin' lunatics...You know who you are.

Plus, as an upside, Luz gets to explain new events and concepts for how she and the rest of the Owl House are making a living. In no way does it feel like forced exposition because, again, she's trying to describe as much as she can to her mother. It's a reasonable and natural way to talk to the audience in order to catch them up while also showing what's been happening since we've last left this show.

Luz Can’t Send Texts to Her Mom: ...Well, Texts to Home, it was fun while it lasted, but the current canon has decided that you're done. I'll miss you and appreciate all that you've done for me, but, yeah, this is the end. Sorry.

Alright, now that I got my jokes out of the way, allow me to explain how this is really a heartbreaking moment. Because the fact that Luz is forever cut off from her mother, even through texts, is an idea that just twists the knife in your heart when you really sit down to think about it. Luz's little goodbye at the end of her video does nothing but makes it worse.

On the upside, we get some solid character development as Luz doesn't even hesitate to send the video to Camila, learning her lesson from "Enchanted Grom Fright" about being more honest. She finally faced her fear, even if it was a fruitless effort.

They’re Doing Odd Jobs Now: This is a smart workaround for how the Owl House residents are making money. Some fans guessed that maybe Eda had so much junk piled up that they wouldn’t worry, but this seems more of a logical direction. Even if Eda had enough garbage to sell, she’ll can and will eventually run out at some point, meaning that they will all have to take the odd jobs anyway. So I appreciate the writers used that plot point sooner rather than later, as a fun romp as bounty hunters is something you want to do early in the season instead of later on. Especially with how Dana Terrace confirmed that s**t’s gonna go down in the future.

Lilith: ...I'm still willing to hold off--What the f**k did I say his name was? *looks up past review* Frederick Ulis--Frederick Ulisinsburg!

I am willing to hold off Frederick Ulisinsburg, for now, because Lilith is...sort of on the right track. I mean, I don't like how quick she was to playfully mock Eda or rudely yell at Hooty. But I do think that there is potential for her character. She feels genuine guilt for what she's done, and there's a chance that the new season will explore that further if the writers are smart (which they are). On top of that, there's a possibility that every time Lilith tries to act cocky or full of herself, she will be treated as a proverbial punching bag because of it. Like how her poster got burned down after boasting how impressive she looks. Or how Golden Guard's poster magically sealed itself to her face when Lilith tried to throw it away. It's the latter that primarily got me cackling like a madman due to how deservingly hilarious it was.

And, well...she happily clapped like a schoolgirl! Which was adorable! I can't hate characters who have the potential to be adorable! It's not in my nature!

So, while I am a little hesitant in liking her, I think there's a chance for improvement in her character in the future that I look forward to. We just have to wait and see if the writers pull it off.

(By the way, to the person that came up with Lilith wearing a "battery low" shirt...you're a genius in visual gags/storytelling.)

Greg’s List: Have I ever mentioned that this show is funny?

Who's Greg? Why does he organize a list of perfect bounties?

I don't know, but the idea of some random person in the Boiling Isles is putting it on himself to set up a list to make bounties...I'm sorry, but that's funny to me. It's also probably for how Craig's List was made, but when you really think about it, Craig's List is a funny idea as well.

Eda Isn’t Feared Anymore: I sort of guessed that this would happen, but seeing it is a whole different level of sympathy to feel for the character. Eda's main schtick was being the most powerful witch on the Isles, and that's gone now. She's forced to adapt to this new normal, which she's quick to do, but still. Tt's got to be a rough kick to the ego now that no one even cares about who she is anymore.

It's a low moment for her character that hopefully sets up her own arc for the rest of the season.

Luz Feels Like She’s a Burden: I will demolish her with love and kindness if she even CONSIDERS talking so poorly about herself again! Because Luz is not a burden. She is a beam of light that literally brightens up the lives of nearly everyone she meets. Eda already explains how her life is better because of Luz (through a heart-tugging speech that almost got to me, by the way), but it's not just Eda.

King now has his first real friend who admires him and treats him like the king he wants to be.

Willow has become much more confident and cheerful because Luz was always in her corner.

Gus learns more about the humans he appreciates with his whole heart while also having a friend that treats him like an equal rather than a kid.

And do I even have to say ANYTHING about Amity?

The Boiling Isles wouldn't be better off without Luz. It's better because of her. And shame on this girl for thinking otherwise...even though I fully understand where she's coming from.

I'm about to get personal for a second, so strap in. Because I am a twenty-somthing-year-old who is currently living with his mom. It's as pathetic as it sounds. But it's because I'm still attending college, and she says school comes first and jobs and apartments come second. Despite that, I feel like trash for just...living here as she still takes care of me and pays for the food I can't afford. She says that I shouldn't worry about it, but I still wait for the day I can finally pay her back for everything. Not some things, but everything. And that's Luz's mentality in this episode. The overwhelming guilt she's feeling for thinking she's inconveniencing Eda's life is something that hits really hard for me. It doesn't matter if it's true, but that she believes it's true. It's a heartbreaking character arc she's forced into for this episode that also adds more to why she's one of the many characters I heavily relate to.

Lulu and Hootstipher: Whoever thought of this idea...I f**king love you.

This is similar to when Noah and Owen became friends in Total Drama World Tour. Seemingly one-sided at first, you see a cute friendship that you would have never expected, but it works! Hooty is this happy and naive character who hardly understands what's going on half the time, and Lilith is...Lilith. Their chemistry is instantly fun as their dynamic is quick to understand.

This also shines with potential for character growth, for it could give Lilith a chance to be more caring and Hooty a chance to be more than just the comic relief. If you were to tell me that this is what was going to happen when the season premiered, I would have thought you were crazy. But now, after seeing it in action, I'm genuinely excited to see where this cute friendship between these two goes.

(As long as it doesn't involve fans shipping them. Because Hooty can do better)

Luz Getting Better with Her Magic: Our little bisexual princess is growing up! And, man, is it awesome to see. Luz going from just barely knowing how to do magic to full-on using her spells like second nature just warms my heart with all the character growth it presents. Now, some people might want an explanation for how she's able to do said spells, to which I say: "Who the f**k cares?"

If you ask me, Luz's magic is one of those things that doesn't need a direct answer because it doesn't matter as much. But if you're going to be a baby about it, here's what I can offer: As far as I can tell, it's equal parts having the glyph and mentally picturing what the spell should do. It's much like how Willow draws a spell circle and can either make giant jungle vines or a patch of flowers to land on. Luz's glyphs are her own spell circles. As long as she concentrates hard enough, she can make the glyph do whatever she wants it to.

There. You have your explanation. Now let's just all appreciate the fact that Luz can now throw fireballs and make vine whips like the superpowered teenager she most likely fantasized of being. Ok? Ok.

A Pirate Losing His Head...Literally: ...And I'm gonna go ahead and add that to the list.

I mean, for f**k's sake, WE SEE BONE! He puts his head back on, but we still see the bone!

Eda in a Pirate Outfit: ...That is all.

The Golden Guard: This guy shows up for only a few minutes, and I'm already beginning to like him. He seems just as threatening as Belos while also coming across as a guy who loves his job and being a ton of fun to watch because of it. I adore villains that find that balance of being funny and terrifying. The result is a character who makes me laugh on top of making me scared of what they could do to our protagonists. So far, that's the Golden Guard in a nutshell, and I can't wait to see what the rest of the season has in store with him. Whether it involves seeing him play with food as he did with Eda and Luz in this episode or seeing him getting kicked in the crotch like a little punk like him deserves, I am all for it.

(Bonus points if it's Amity who does the crotch kicking if he ever makes an advancement on Luz)

Eda Wanting to Protect the Selkidomus: I love this. It plays into the idea that Eda cares about things being wild and free and despises how Emperor Belos would want to control everything, including the most insignificant of animals. It shows just how kind Eda really is rather than someone motivated by greed...even if she does end up filthy rich in the end.

Emperor Belos’ Brief Cameo: Yup, still terrifying!

And if it turns out that Belos can see the Scrying Potion that Lilith made...we're going to have some problems.

Much like the actual problems that I have with this episode!

(Like that transition?)

WHAT I DISLIKE

King Being Stupid: King has two different personalities in this series. Either he's a pathetic wannabe ruler who seems intelligent or an idiotic Disney comedic sidekick. That latter version of King is what we get in "Separate Tides," and I don't like it (obviously). I don't care how cute it is to see him cling onto Luz's leg and exclaim how he won't let her leave. The same character who helped Luz break into a prison to save Eda shouldn't be the same one who falls asleep when a sheet covers him like a dumbass parrot! King's at his best when he's as intelligent as the rest of the characters. And not as dumb as someone like Hooty.

Eda Being Too Nice Around Lilith: This one bothers me the most. After being cursed for thirty years and having her life ruined by the person she thought she could trust the most, Eda is still all smiley and jokey when talking to Lilith. Yeah, sorry, but I don't buy that. No one in their right mind would be that cool with a person who did all of what Lilith did. It's a major misstep that squanders what could have been a fantastic overarching story of Eda learning to forgive her sister and Lilith trying to earn it. We'll at least get Lilith's guilt, but as is, I feel Eda showing genuine anger towards her would elevate that story by a lot.

IN CONCLUSION

But that's about all the bad things I have to say about "Separate Tides." As is, it is a well-earned, solid A of a season premiere. It introduces new concepts and characters I can't wait to see more of, continues old storylines and character development instead of ignoring them, and still proves that The Owl House is as charming and funny as it always was. Maybe the rest of the season could continue to be great, or maybe things might get worse. Time can only tell. For now, all I can tell you is that "Separate Tides" is a great and fun episode that makes me excited as we set sail to this new season.

(And Scared. Mostly scared)