#obligatory “death to america” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writingthingsisdifficult · 9 months ago

Text

It's been a long, long time

Steve Rogers x reader

Being on a mission, even with Captain America and Bucky Barnes, is a dangerous thing. One could become injured, and maybe even need someone to take care of oneself…

A/N: trying to get into writing again – it’s been a while (you might even say it’s been a long, long time XD ). Contains violence, swearing, bodily harm. Also pining and awkwardness. And a dose of idiots to lovers.

Obligatory English is not my first language.

Word count: 8893

***

The evening is freezing cold. There is promise of snow in the air, but none of us have the time to appreciate it. We have a job to do. Villains to stop, a world to save. You know, the usual. It should be a quick in and out again. Cap and Bucky are taking the helm on this, and I’m bringing up the rear today.

The only thing heard in the cargo bay as we ready ourselves, check the gear one last time before they let us go, is the noise from the quinjet. Then almost total silence as the pilot switches into stealth mode. A buckle snaps into place, soft steps on the hard floor, a cough. It’s the quiet before the storm.

“You ready?”

“Lead the way, Cap,” I reply with a grin. If he only knew I would follow him through fire and back.

“Buck?”

“Let’s go.”

The air rushes in as the hatch lowers, and we walk side by side towards the opening. The plan is to jump out once the plane is low enough and enter the base on the north side, then quietly and quickly take out the enemy before we wipe the system in the control room. I do believe there’s a possibility of fire too.

I glance up at Steve. He’s standing still, his face focused and serious, no doubt going over the plan in his head again. To think I would have the privilege of working with him, and Bucky, like this… I feel like I’ve proven myself to… well, myself. And I never really thought that he would be standing here, so close to me. There’s so much I want to say, to tell him, but words can wait until another day. Right now we have a task to do.

I stare into the darkness, watching the tiny lights in the distance grow larger and larger. Good thing I’ve never been afraid of heights.

Steve jumps first, then Bucky, and soon I follow suit. It’s a short, but exhilarating trip through the air before I hit the ground, tucking my body to do a front flip, and landing on my feet. Then I carefully fold the small parachute and stuff it back into the pouch, sending a quiet thanks to Stark and his nanotech.

Before I allow myself to be proud of my landing, I take a moment to make sure both Steve and Bucky are ok. They look like they’re just out for an evening stroll. Steve adjusts his shield and gestures silently towards the base. A wordless ‘let’s go’, waiting for confirmation from us. Bucky rolls his shoulders, I nod. The snow on the ground muffles the sound of our steps as we slip undetected into the base.

Peeking around the corner of the nearest building, a shed or storage of some sort, Steve holds up three fingers, then points to the left. Guards. Not unexpected. We all know what to do. Bucky pulls himself up onto the roof. I can’t see him in the dark, but I know he’s positioning himself for an attack.

“Think you can get them to come a bit closer?” Steve whispers, so close to my ear that I can feel the warmth of his breath. A slight tremble ripples over my body, and the hair on the nape of my neck rises. Jeez! That man is going to be the death of me.

“Of course,” I reply confidently, trying hard to not give away that I was two seconds from sinking to my knees in front of him. Holding my head high, I saunter into the lamplight. “Hey, boys. What’s a girl gotta do to have some fun around here?”

Three heads snap up, and after a moment of confusion, they charge, momentarily forgetting the guns in their hands. I whip out my batons and power up the charge, but before I can do anything, Bucky lands on top of the biggest guy. I can hear the snap of the guard’s leg breaking from here; it sends chills down my spine. He groans and mutters something inaudible, but before he can finish his sentence, Bucky’s fist connects with his nose.

Steve whips around the corner, taking the other guards by surprise – at least if we go by the yelling and cursing. And so it begins. I have to keep myself from laughing with the adrenaline and thrill. I almost feel lightheaded as my energy rushes through me. The middle of my baton strikes the soldier’s shin, sending him to the ground. I leap on him, shoving my knee squarely in his chest, knocking the air from his lungs. Then I bring a baton round, activating the switch to send a jolt of electricity through his neck. He collapses down into the snow and twitches for a few seconds.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Steve land a solid blow to the jaw of one of the guards, making him drop like a sack of potatoes. I grant myself a small smile. He returns it when he sees me.

The base isn’t fully manned, but there are still enough soldiers to make me break out a sweat. They’re not very disciplined, though, throwing punches this way and that. Finally a bullet whizzes past, hitting the wall behind us with a bang, but before the shooter can even think about pulling the trigger again, Steve’s shield hits both him and the gun. A previously unseen soldier makes his way to pick it up, but Bucky beats him to it, and knocks him down before throwing the shield back to Steve. The way his shoulders roll with the catch sends a shiver down my spine and heat to my ears. I can only imagine how that would look without the suit.

“Get a grip! You’re working!” I mutter to myself, shaking my head to clear my mind. But that moment of distraction rewards me a hard blow to the jaw. I stumble backwards and flex it. Nothing’s broken, but it’s gonna leave me with one hell of a bruise.

The idiot thinks he got the upper hand and stalks toward me brandishing a knife. I wink at him and swing around to kick him in the chest. He staggers, and with a swift movement I am on his shoulders, my thighs firmly pressing on his throat. A garbled laugh slips from his lips, and then finally his knife clatters to the ground. The gurgling stops, and he topples over. I roll off him, get to my feet and dust myself off, satisfied with my work.

The fight has died down, the ground is littered with dead or dying men. We take a moment to get control over the situation, to make sure there’s no one lying in wait for us. The area is clear. All soldiers and officers are accounted for.

“Nice save,” Bucky smirks. “I was wondering if you needed help.”

Steve smiles warmly. “She doesn’t. Never have.”

The heat in my ears spreads over my cheeks. Thank my lucky stars that I’m already flushed from the fight. It would be so typical to be betrayed by my rushing blood now, after denying myself the truth for so long. I swallow the giggle in my chest, but I can’t stop the stupid grin. “It’s a team effort,” I huff slightly out of breath, ignoring the embarrassment. “Wouldn’t have survived without you two here. You good?”

Nodding, Bucky pats my shoulder. “Yep. Going to have a few bruises in the morning, but nothing I can’t handle. You?”

“Mhm.” I grin. “We made a good team out there.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, wiping blood from his split lip. “We do make a good team.” He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times to continue, but apparently changes his mind. Instead, he looks to Bucky, and then back at me. His eyes widen, dropping the snow he used to wipe his hands clean. “Oh, Jesus! Your face! You’re bleeding!”

Wiping my brow, I wave him off. “It’s nothing. The other guy is worse off. Uh, what’s next?” I ask, shifting the conversation to something else, even though I know the plan inside and out. Now that the fight is over, exhaustion rolls over me. I had almost forgotten the toll a mission like this takes.

“Easiest part left,” Bucky replies, pushing his hair from his face. “Disable the system, and then we get to play with flames.” He grins like a kid that’s been let loose in a candy store.

“Piece of cake, that. Let’s go so I can get home at take a nice, hot shower. Get all this gunk off of me.” I smack my lips and wipe a lump of something thick and gloopy from my neck. “Ew!”

“According to the map provided by SHIELD, the control room is located right next to the main gate. Follow me. I’d like to get home and take a shower too.” Steve takes off with light steps.

They’re a bit faster than me; I can’t really get my feet to follow. Not that that’s anything unusual. I haven’t got the stamina that the serum gives, so I always follow at my own pace.

Breathing hard and with adrenaline fading, I lean on the wall for a bit. I just need a small break. Unlike Cap, I can’t do this all day. At least not without a little pause to catch my breath. My uneven breath.

Something feels off. There’s static in my earpiece and a weird rumbling in my mind. I shake to clear my head, but it only makes me dizzy.

When I push off the wall, I wince. The right side of my torso feels warm, too warm, and it aches; that dull ache that leaves an ominous echo in my mind. Looking down, I realise my jacket is torn, and when I touch the fabric, my fingers come away dark and sticky. Fuck!

Glancing up, I see Cap and Bucky pushing on, already almost out of sight, fully focused on the mission. No need to distract them. I’ll deal. We’ll meet at the rendezvous point later.

The zipper sounds harsh in my ears, ripping through the air like a chainsaw, revealing the extent of my predicament. There’s a deep gash running from my bellybutton to my ribs on the right hand side. Double-fuck!

Cold air caresses the wound, snowflakes dance in the dim light. It burns. I have to blink to keep my focus as nausea creeps up, making me even dizzier. My tongue feels thick and fuzzy. No way I’m walking away from this. Rubbing my eyes, I get a final glimpse of Steve rounding the corner and then he’s out of sight. I’m hit with a sudden pang of regret: I never got to tell him… anything.

Time seems to slow down. I suck in air to steel myself, but it stops at the top of my chest. My breath is ragged and shallow. Blood drips from my lips, and I wipe my mouth with heavy movements.

Everything is so cold. My body weighs so much, making my knees buckle and give out. It’s a strange sensation; feeling both heavy and so light at the same time. Stumbling forward, I suddenly lose my balance. Luckily I manage to catch myself with my hands so I don’t faceplant on the ground. The snow cushions my fall a bit, but the impact still sends a shock through my body, and by the feel of it, my palms are as good as shredded. It doesn’t take long before my clothes are soaked, and soon my bones are frozen through.

When I open my eyes, the bright white has turned a dark, rich crimson. I feel sick. I always knew there were risks being involved in my line of work, but this isn’t how I imagined I’d go.

Every breath is laboured, every movement slow. My lungs convulse and drops of blood and spit flies everywhere. Some hit my cheek, and I recoil from the slap.

I try to push myself up again, but it’s no more than a feeble attempt, resulting in a silent groan and even deeper scrapes on my hands.

Thirty seconds pass at most, but it feels like an eternity. As I sit on my knees and hands, quiet stinging from the cold and the cuts on my knuckles mixes with the throbbing in my side. If only I could have one wish it would be to say goodbye.

There’s a whooshing of something in my ears, my vision is fading. A nothingness seeps in, cinching it to pinpricks in front of me. To my left I vaguely register movement, but I’m too far gone to really notice. I just want the pain to stop.

My vision goes completely, and shortly after so does my hearing, Gravity takes over, and my head hits the snow with a heavy thud.

There’s a commotion nearby. Or at least I think there is. I’m slipping in and out of consciousness as I’m bleeding out. It’s hard to get at firm grip on anything at all.

There is no light. No sounds. I’m wrapped in a cocoon, like I’m swaddled tightly in a warm blanket. Time is syrup. Everything is so hazy. I’m not sure where I am, or even who I am. Or if I am at all. Just let me drift off to sleep.

I’m jolted and shaken, and the amount of noise around me weighs me down; beeping and muffled rumbling and sounds I can’t place. People whispering. There’s a bird singing somewhere… I think. My ears are buzzing. I try to open my eyes, but the light is so bright it hurts. A soft whimper escapes me, but I can’t speak. The voices get louder, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. It doesn’t take long before darkness consumes me.

A flare of blazing, white light flashes in front of my eyes. My back arches as a sharp pain shoot through my body. The savage scream that erupts from my mouth lingers in my throat, scratching and itching, biting at my consciousness, but the waves I’m riding pull me under again, and I don’t have enough strength to fight them.

Somewhere above my head I hear a frantic “No, no, no…” followed by a quieter “Fix it. Please.” There’s pressure on my shoulders. It’s warm. Pleasant. My head rolls to the side, and it’s dark again.

Someone’s calling my name. The voice is far away, but through the cotton in my ears the urgency is clear. I cannot answer. I don’t know where it’s coming from.

My eyes are crusty when I try to open them. I blink, and blink again. The light is harsh and it does nothing good for the growing headache that throbs in my temples. The room is unfamiliar with its light green walls and – I squint – colourful, abstract paintings. The air smells sharp, a little bitter, but clean. It stings in my nose.

There is… an attempt to sit up, but I’m pinned down by wires and tubes and my own lack of strength. The failed attempt tugs on the needle in my hand. Jesus that hurts! “Fuck!” The word comes out as a coarse croak, setting off a coughing firework befitting an old man.

“Hey, hey, hey… relax.” Light touch on my forehead, and then Steve’s face comes into focus. He looks tired, drawn. But he’s smiling, so I try my best to smile too. My lip cracks. “You scared us. It looked pretty sketchy for a moment.” When he moves closer, he reveals another person standing behind his back. I have to strain my eyes to focus, but after a second I see Bucky, looking so worried I’m tempted to get up to comfort him.

I begin to speak, but that only starts another coughing fit.

“Don’t. You’ve been… out for a long time. Here.” Steve pours a glass of lukewarm water and holds it to my lips.

I drink greedily; I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so delicious. And it washes away the rawness in my throat. “Thank you.” It’s a mere whisper, but at least I can communicate.

Bucky moves to my other side. “You look like shit!” He laughs at my glare. “Really, though, it’s good to have you back, doll. If not, Steve might’ve gone on a rampage…” He chuckles, ducking to avoid Steve’s swat, and picks up the red button. “Let’s call the nurse, hm? Let them know you’re not dead?”

The nurse shoos them out of the room, but she has to use stern words before they reluctantly leave with promises that they’ll be back.

Feeling my forehead, she gives me a quick smile. “Right, honey. Let’s make sure you’re okay, alright?” She’s a kind woman with light hands, making the testing and prodding and questions almost bearable. She has to take my blood, she says, nodding towards my hands resting on top of the blanket. I lift my left arm, and she fastens a rubber band around it. The smell of the alcohol wipe sticks to my nose like a horse fly. The wet is cold, and when the needle punctures my skin, it’s almost as if I can hear a crisp pop.

I’m used to needles, have no problems with blood work, but when it’s time to change the bandage on my stomach, I squirm in my bed. It hurts, and now that I’m awake, I really just want to fix it myself.

“Listen,” she starts, using the same stern voice she did on the boys, “I apologise for being harsh, but you died! You’ve been cut open several times, your intestines had to be shoved back in and rearranged, your body is battered and bruised, and I’m amazed you didn’t have any broken bones. By all logic your skull should be cracked. You’re lucky all you got from the resuscitation were a few fractured ribs. We had to keep you in an induced coma for a week just to let your body rest.”

Coma? What? I look from her to the window, a deep furrow between my eyes.

She laughs, and continue dressing my wound. “It’s okay to be a bit dazed. You’ve been beat up pretty bad. But you’re gonna be as good as new when we’re done with you.”

The next few days goes by at a snail’s pace. Sure, I’ve got plenty of visitors. Nat and Clint, Wanda, even Director Fury swings by one time. Bucky is here most days. So is Steve. He doesn’t leave my side unless he’s told to by the staff. I’m eternally grateful that I don’t have to be alone all the time.

My room is filled with flowers and balloons and get well cards. But I hate being this helpless. Everything hurts; moving, breathing, sleeping… The nurses are doing their job, and it’s a fine job, but I want to go home. I want to sleep in a soft bed with warm covers, with a pair of pyjamas that leaves a bit more to the imagination than the flimsy gown they’ve dressed me in. I miss my TV, my music… I miss the freedom to do as I please. And I’m not afraid to tell the nurses exactly that.

“We’ll see,” is the only answer I get.

So my days are filled with physical therapy that leaves me sweaty and annoyed – damn, I hate that walker – chatting with whoever is there when I’m feeling up for it, and dozing when I get too tired. Night and day all kinda blend together. It’s difficult to keep track of time.

Whispers draws me out of my slumber.

“You’ve gotta tell her, Steve.”

“I know. But I can’t spring it on her like this. Let her recover first.”

“Fine. But tell her! Or I will!”

“Okay, okay! Shh… you’re waking her!”

I half wonder what that was all about, but I drift off before I can think to ask, and when I wake up again I can’t really tell dreams from reality, so I say nothing.

It’s been a week and a half since I woke up in the hospital bed, and I’m about to start climbing the walls. When Doctor Lloyd comes by on her daily visit I moan about staying again.

“About that,” she says with a bright smile, giving me hope. “I was thinking it’s about time you get some fresh air.”

“Yes!” I mutter under my breath. Finally! A grin creeps over my lips, and I’m half a second from swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.

“However –“ She interrupts, stopping me with a look. Her face is serious, but kind. “You can’t be on your own. Not yet.” Her voice full of sympathy. “If I am to discharge you from our care, you need someone who can look after you at home.”

My face and heart falls. “But –“

“Listen. I’m going to be honest with you. You have been through four surgeries, and you have a very long, very tough road of recovery ahead of you. If you’re good, and follow my advice, you’re looking at at least twelve weeks before your body is back to relatively normal. And you need minimum two more weeks without any physical exertion at all. No housework, no lifting, no stretching. You will need help. With everything. Do you have anyone you can call?”

I grimace, fighting the sudden pressure behind my eyes. My head is filled with I don’t want to, I don’t want to, I don’t want to! Of course. I live alone, and she knows it. But I can’t stand the thought of staying in the hospital for a moment longer. I discreetly rub a finger to the corner of my eye, concealing it as removing some gunk, but I know that if I’m not careful, everyone in this room will watch me ugly cry.

There’s beeping in her pocket. She fishes out a small device, nods and walks to the door. “When I return, I’m going to need an answer.”

“Fuck!” I groan loudly when the door clicks behind her.

“What’s wrong?” Steve and Bucky quickly get to their feet.

I glance over at them, blinking away the remaining tears before they can see. They retreated to the far corner to give me some privacy while the doctor talked. “I’m stuck here for the next… god knows how long.”

They cross the room. Steve frowns. “But I thought you were supposed to go home soon.”

“Yeah, so did I. Or… I hoped,” I reply with a sigh. “But they won’t release me unless I have someone who can take care of me while I recover.” I think for a bit, shoulders slumping forward. “My sister lives on the other side of the world, and she’s too busy with work and the kids. Besides, she’s already taking care of Mum. She can’t be on her own with the dementia and all. So she can’t just drop everything and fly out.” Not that I particularly want her to. We’re not that close. It would just be awkward.

“Oh.”

Bucky stares pointedly at Steve, nodding almost imperceptibly towards me, like he’s finishing an argument they’ve had before.

Steve clears his throat stiffly. “How about, uh, how about you come live with me while you recover?”

My stomach flips, and I’m pretty sure it’s not because of the injury. Looking away, I swallow hard. “I don’t want to burden you with that responsibility.”

“You could never be a burden.”

“But it’s twelve weeks. And I’m gonna be useless for at least two of them.” I’m not gonna lie. Staying with Steve sounds like an absolute dream right now. But chances are it would eat me up to be that close to him for so long.

“Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it. Bucky and I were… discussing it earlier, since we figured you were going to need someone close by –“ He pauses. Rubs the back of his neck. “My apartment is big enough. Please, will you let me help you?”

Bucky smirks. “Yeah, please let him help you. Or else he might just go mad from the guilt.”

Guilt? Confused, I’m about to ask, but then I see Steve’s face, scrunched up like a puppy, mirroring Bucky’s, making me laugh. I shrink from the pain that follows. “Fine. You can help. Just don’t make me laugh.” I make a point of looking inconvenienced, but secretly, gratitude washes over me. If it has to be anyone, I’m glad it’s Steve.

“Good. That’s settled. Thank you.” Steve steps out of the room to make some arrangements, leaving me pondering the guilt comment.

“Bucky?” I shift a bit in the bed to look him in the eyes.

“Yes?”

“What did you mean that he feels guilty?”

He looks down for a moment, a grimace flits across his features. “Well, to tell you the truth, we both feel guilty. We just left you, didn’t even check if you were okay –“ He grips the metal railing on the bed, and I can see his face tighten.

“You asked,” I reply, patting his hand. “And I said I were. No reason for you to think otherwise.” They should absolutely not feel guilty. And the way I’m floating with relief and joy from getting out, there is no way I’m letting them feel bad!

“Yeah, but we should have been with you. You died! You should’ve seen h…” He stops himself. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re here, and you’re gonna be okay, and Steve is happy to take care of you.”

There it is again, a small flash of something. But what? Steve would be happy to… My chest tightens, it feels like I’m going to implode. Just as I’m about ask Bucky what that means, Steve comes back.

“Sorry about that,” he smiles, sliding his phone back in his pocket. “Had to make a few phone calls. Suppose you need some things from your own apartment. Natasha said she’d be more than happy to go over and pack a suitcase for you. And Fury needed to know where to find you should something happen.”

I look at him, bask in his happy smile. Oh yeah, I’m definitely gonna struggle for the next weeks. “You sure it’s okay?” I have to ask, have to know that it’s not just because I was upset or because of guilt.

Bucky and Steve react in unison. Arched eyebrows, annoyed smiles, and exhaling through their noses. “Yes.” And that’s the end of the discussion. Don’t think I’d be able to argue more even if I wanted to.

Three hours later I’m wheeled out of the front door and over to a waiting car. Bucky tosses a bag with the few possessions I had while admitted into the boot while Steve helps me into the back seat, making sure I’m comfortable before climbing in on the other side.

Bucky gives us a mock salute, then winks at me. “I’ll see ya later. And please wait a week before you kill him, won’t you?” He shuts the door, and heads over to his motorbike.

“Let’s go,” Steve laughs, shaking his head and gesturing to the driver. “Let’s go home.”

Steve insists on carrying me from the car, and though I protest, I can’t deny that I’m enjoying it quite a bit more than I should.

He sets me down on the kitchen counter and begins looking through the cupboards. “You hungry? Bet you want something other than hospital food. I haven’t been able to go shopping for a while, but there should be enough to fill you up for now. I’ll call in a few favours, so you don’t have to be alone, okay?”

I start swaying. My muscles aren’t strong enough to sit upright without support yet, but it’s fascinating to watch Steve being so natural in a domestic situation that I don’t say anything, just bite down the struggle. Until I almost wobble off the counter, and knock a small knife to the floor.

“Oh shit! I didn’t think… you shouldn’t be sitting without a back rest. You’re probably exhausted too.” It isn’t a question at all.

I wave him off. “Don’t worry about it. But I am tired. Maybe I should just take a teensy nap or something.” The sofa is looking very tempting right now.

“Of course. You sleep. I’ll make us something to eat and come wake you after it’s done.”

“You sure? I mean, I could help with –“

“No. No, you’re not helping me with anything,” he interrupts, dropping the bread so he can pick me up.

I feel like I don’t weigh a thing, floating through the air, securely enveloped by strong arms. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to feeling his arms around me, and I tuck it away in my mind to remember a rainy day. I almost forget to protest when he passes the sofa, but he just laughs. The rumble from his chest vibrates through me, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stay appropriate.

He nudges the door to the bedroom open with his foot and walks sideways through. When he lets go of me, I sink into the mattress. It feels like a cloud after the hospital bed. Steve glances around the room. “Sorry about the mess. I didn’t have the time to do anything special in here. Just let me put away the clothes –“ He quickly scrunches up a couple of t-shirts and shoves them into a hamper in the corner.

“What, is this… Is this your room? But… where are you gonna – don’t tell me you’re gonna sleep on the sofa! Nope!” It’s out of the question to kick him out of his own bed, and I wriggle to get out of it again.

“Relax.” He looks at me and smiles sheepishly, lifting my leg up again and tucking the blanket tightly around me. “That isn’t my bed. Well, technically it is, but that’s besides the point. It’s not the one I sleep on. Never really gotten used to a normal, civilian mattress, so I usually sleep on a field cot… And I was thinking… So I can be close by in case you need anything, I’ll just sleep on that.” He points to the floor on the other side of the bed. Tucked into the other corner is a mattress, neatly done with folded sheets and everything.

I raise an eyebrow and tilt my head a little bit. “This is awfully well planned out, Captain, considering we made this deal just today. I didn’t even know I would be released until this morning…” I try to sound tough and serious, but I can’t quite hide the twinkle in my voice. Trust Steve to have a plan. Even for this.

He actually blushes, and looks away as he answers. “Uh, well, you see… Bucky – and I – thought it might come to something like this, so I got it a couple of days ago. Besides, I’ve been meaning to get a proper bed for ages. And now I had a good reason.”

“You’re a couple of sneaks, the both of you,” I grin. My chest leaps with the thought of him going through all that hassle just in case I needed a place to stay. “But thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says gruffly. He clicks off the light and glances over his shoulder. “I’ll leave it ajar so I hear you if you need anything.”

I haven’t slept this well in… forever, I think. The bed is perfect, and there’s just something about the room; the light coming from under the door, the scent, whatever it is, that makes me feel safe.

Steve wakes me a little while later, a tray in hand. “Figured you wanted to be comfortable while eating. And when you’re done, you can sleep a bit more. It’ll be good for you.”

It’s dark when I wake up again. My head hurts, and my mouth is bone dry. A glass of water. That’s what I need. The kitchen isn’t that far, so I roll over on my side and slide my feet to the floor. But I can’t seem to get my abs to follow instructions. Instead I sorta hang over the edge like a slug, unable to get up or down. “Shit, shit, shit,” I mutter, wriggling to get into a better position. But the more I try, the more I twist, and the strain stabs and stings my side.

“What’s going on?” Steve’s voice is groggy with sleep. He sits up so I can see his head over the edge of the bed. Even upside down it looks confused.

“I just wanted to get a glass of water.”

“And you decided that you’d do that yourself. On the first night out of hospital, despite the doctor’s orders to not do anything physical at all?”

I give him my best puppy eyes. “Yes?”

“What am I going to do with you?” he sighs, helping me back under the covers. After propping me up with pillows and checking on my side to make sure nothing is ripped, he fetches a glass of water. When he comes back, he gives me an exasperated smirk. “Next time, just wake me, okay?”

My stomach drops when I see how tired he looks. “I’m sorry,” I start, feeling like this whole situation could have been avoided if only I had paid more attention.

He cuts me off. “Don’t. You don’t have anything to apologise for.”

“Sor–“

He shuts me up with a finger on my lips and a soft shh. “Go back to sleep. You need the rest.”

***

“I think I’ll manage from here,” I say when I’m safely down on the little chair in front of the sink. We decided on using the office chair, since that can spin, and it has wheels, so it’s easier for me to access what I need around the bathroom. Steve has already brought me washcloths, towels and soap, and I’ll spare him the horror of giving me a sponge bath, since I’m not ready for a shower just yet.

“If you’re sure,” he replies. “I’ll be right here if you need me,” he adds when he closes the door.

Washing away the hospital smell that sticks to my face feels amazing. The water is warm, and the cloth is soft. I sigh with contentment as I let it linger over my eyes.

I pat my face dry and move on to get out of the sweater I’m wearing. Ow! Each time I try to lift my arms and pull it over my head, my stitches sting. After three attempts and lots of quiet swearing, I’m stuck. “Um, Steve?” I call, trying to sound calm, but the burn in my side is concerning. “A little help, please?”

From my limited vision through the fabric I see his head in the mirror, poking through the door, looking increasingly worried, but with a crooked smile on his lips. “Jeez. How did you do that. Here.” He averts his eyes like the perfect gentleman he is when he frees me from my sweater, but he tuts at my stupidity and refusal to do as the doctor instructed.

I hesitate for a second. “Um... think you can help me unhook my bra too?”

With minimal fumbling, he does as I ask, and before I can say anything else, he wrings a wet cloth and starts washing my back for me. I can’t do anything but close my eyes and breathe as he quietly fusses over my cuts and bruises, before leaving alone to finish cleaning myself. When he returns ten minutes later, I’ve turned into a towel burrito.

“I figured you needed something to wear, and the clothes Natasha packed didn’t look very comfortable.” He looks down on his hands and then back at me; he’s holding an oversized zipper hoodie and sweatpants.

“Thanks. Those will do.” The fabric is soft, like feathers against my skin. “I’ll be right out.”

“Good,” he replies and leaves me alone again.

A couple of minutes and a good deal of fumbling later, I’ve managed to get into the sweater. Sure, it took time, and sure it was a bit painful, but over all I’m happy with my effort. But it’s another situation altogether with the sweatpants. I just can’t lift my feet high enough to step into them while holding them, and when I drop them to the floor, I can step into them, but I can’t bend down to pull them up. Shit.

Wrapping the towel around my waist, I call for Steve again. “Help?” I squeak, gesturing to the grey bundle on the floor, ignoring the rising heat on my neck. I hadn’t thought of this; that I actually need help getting dressed. For some reason I’m not that embarrassed, really, more disappointed that I have to be that kind of a burden. If we’re going to make this work, I can’t let my pride get in the way.

“Oh.” He watches me intently from the doorway.

“Yeah.” I give him a flat smile. “I think I can get out of my clothes on my own. At least mostly,” I add when I notice the arched eyebrow and crooked smile on his face. “The zipper hoodie works, so that’s good. But… this movement,” I mime pulling up the sweatpants, “hurts. I can’t bend properly, so…”

“It’s what I’m here for,” he says, before quickly adding “to help.” He kneels in front of me and guides first one, then the other foot into the sweatpants, while I hang onto his shoulders for dear life, and he looks away while pulling them up. Only when they’re safely tied and hanging, do I drop the towel.

I want to thank him, but no sounds come when I open my mouth. So I settle on a smile and a nod, though that is wildly insufficient.

“Sit,” he orders, but his voice is mild, and once I’m down again, he turns the chair around so my back is towards the sink.

You would think that Steve has done all this before. He knows precisely what he needs to do, and he’s the gentlest being on the earth in this moment, tenderly lowering my head into the sink and making sure I’m comfortable and that the chair doesn’t roll away, all while silently asking me if it’s okay.

“Mhm.” I close my eyes, savouring the sensation of warm, running water over my scalp. Then he begins to massage, and I melt into the chair. An obscene noise rises in my throat, but I swallow thickly, settling for a quiet hum instead. I can get used to this.

The last of the hospital sweat swirls down the drain, replaced by the clean smell of shampoo. That it’s Steve doing it is just icing on the cake. Now, if just that stupid sting in my side could disappear too, my life would be perfect.

With my hair wrapped in a new towel, he picks me up and carries me to the living room. I’m pretty sure I could walk if I wanted, but what’s life without a little exploitation of the situation?

It quickly becomes a routine, him helping me with the things I can’t do, carrying me from room to room. Picking stuff up from the floor when I drop it, making food when I’m hungry… And my heart swells for every kind gesture. I feel like I’m about to explode.

My strength and pain fluctuate over the weeks. Some days I’m ready to take on the world, and Steve has to remind me that I still have a long way to go, others I can hardly get out of bed, but my recovery is definitely moving forward. Before long I can even sit up without support for more than a couple of minutes at a time.

***

The tape tugs on my skin, and I’m glad I only have to change the bandage every other day. I hiss as I pull on it, but I just can’t get myself to rip it off quickly today. Taking a deep breath, I change my grip and try again, but no luck.

“You decent?” Steve’s voice floats through the door, and moments later, his head pops in.

“Yeah,” I answer, not even looking up to see that he’s already in the room.

He gently pushes my hands out of the way. “Let me,” he says, soothing over the red skin where I’ve already managed to remove the tape. His eyes lock with mine, and he gives me a quick smile. “I’ll count to three, then pull, okay?”

I nod and breathe in, then out again.

“One, two –“ He pulls.

I let out a loud yelp. “Oh, you fucker!”

“There you go. Good girl.”

My mind blanks. Did he really…? I hold my breath for a few seconds in fear of making some sound I’ll regret later. Through my haze I barely recognise that the new bandage is already on, and he��s pulling down my sweater. Just before he lets go, his fingers lightly brush over my skin, making my heart flutter like a hummingbird. I’m gonna need a month to recover after this.

He moves to pick me up again, but I want to do it myself. No, I need to do it myself. “I can walk.” I think. My legs suddenly feel so very weak, and when I try to get up, I just can’t.

Instead of commenting, he offers his arm, and practically pulls me to my feet while supporting my back. He’s right there when I take the first, unsteady steps on my own since the fight. I both miss the walker I had in the hospital and don’t, but I know that if I need to, I can always grab onto Steve. Or in the worst case, he’ll lift me up and carry me into the living room.

“So. What do you want to do today?” he asks as we slowly make our way towards the sofa.

“I don’t know. Not much I can do.” I’m not used to sitting still. “How about we just watch TV for now – well, I can watch, if you have other things you want to do.” Please stay with me.

“No, that sounds good.” He brings out a small notebook and a pen. “I have a lot of catching up to do. What do you wanna watch?”

Later that evening, Bucky comes traipsing in with his hands so full of bags that they’re stacked all the way to his elbows. “Food delivery,” he announces loudly, dropping the bags on the floor for Steve to put away. “How’s my favourite patient?” he grins, turning to me.

“Can’t complain. Steve’s being an angel nurse.”

“Good, good.” He’s already on his way out again. “I slipped in a chocolate for you in case you can’t take it anymore,” he adds, pointing to Steve with an exaggerated grimace.

“Thanks. You’re not staying?”

“Nah. Got a mission coming up. And Steve, remember: I’m not your personal DoorDasher.”

Steve laughs and follows him to the door. They remain standing, talking for a bit – whispering so I can’t hear them, but there’s an urgency to underneath their voices. I wonder if Steve was supposed to go on this mission too. A pang of guilt punches me in the gut. Bucky better come back in one piece.

“Be safe,” I say, swallowing hard.

“Don’t worry about me,” he replies and closes the door behind him. Steve busies himself with the groceries.

“What kind of mission?” I ask when he finally sits down again.

“Huh?”

I frown. “Bucky. What was the mission?”

“Oh, didn’t ask. Sorry.”

Despite being so curious that I’m about to burst, I don’t ask again. I’m not privy to all communication between SHIELD and their agents.

***

Steve is gone. He’s been gone for a couple of hours. Think he had to run to the store or something, but I couldn’t go with him. Which is okay, I guess. So I’m lying on the sofa, tapping my fingers, trying to count to 500 backwards. It’s something to do, to keep the boredom at bay. Every day feels like the days I stayed with my grandparents when I was little. You know; constantly a little bored, because you don’t have access to all your toys? But also excited, because you’re on holiday and it’s kinda new and regular routines don’t apply? Quiet days passing slowly, but pleasantly. There’s a kind sort of nostalgia to the whole thing.

Here I don’t have my books or stuff, and though I can always go get some, it’s not the same, because there’s nothing like that feeling of just browsing, picking up the one that piques your interest at that moment… I do have my music, though. It’s on my phone, and that is wonderful. But I miss my record player, and listening to digital music through headphones doesn’t quite give the same experience. On the other hand: I get to spend every day with Steve, and now that I don’t fall asleep from exhaustion every hour, I can actually enjoy it.

When Steve comes back, carrying bags and looking so deliciously domestic that I can’t do anything but sink into the sofa to hide my reaction, I breathe a sigh of relief. Weirdly enough, being alone has started to make me uneasy.

“Welcome home,” I splutter, trying to conceal the sound as a yawn. Outside the sun is setting, sending long, peachy rays that spreads over the walls. If I’m lucky, the colour in my face can be explained away. Not sure he’s fooled.

He gives me a wide smile and brings me a bottle of soda. “Thanks. What do you say we order dinner today? I couldn’t decide what I wanted when I was at the shop, so I just picked something. And now I don’t really feel like making lasagna at all.”

“I’m always up for takeaway. Did you have anything in mind?”

“How about…” he thinks for a bit. “Thai? Form that restaurant down by the square?”

“Absolutely!” He asked me one of the first days what my favourite food was, and I just said the first thing that popped into my head, being too preoccupied with the sight of his shirt straining over his shoulders, but it’s sweet of him to remember. And I do really like Thai food, so it’s a win-win.

Two hours later we’re both full, content, and comfortably seated in the sofa. We’ve made it a habit for me to lie with my head in his lap. That way I can rest, and I don’t have to twist or move in case I get tired. If this is the only good thing that comes from this situation, I will be happy.

He absentmindedly strokes my hair, watching the clouds floating by outside the window. “You wanna watch a movie today?”

“Sure.” I’d go to the end of the world with him if he asked me. I’m not ashamed to admit it. “What do you want to watch?”

“So, I’ve been meaning to… You know I’ve got my list – gotta try to update myself – ”

“Get with the times,” I offer with a smirk, looking up into his face.

“So to speak. There’s a lot of things I missed, you know, when… anyways, I thought maybe we could watch Fellowship of the Ring? I’ve heard a lot of good things about it, and it’s been on my list for a while, ‘cause I really liked the books.”

“I’d love to. It’s one of my favourites.” The prospect of watching Lord of the Rings with Steve makes me warm and fuzzy.

Somewhere around Weathertop my head starts feeling heavier, and before Arwen has breathed out “What’s this, a ranger caught off his guard?” sleep overtakes me.

It’s dark outside when I wake up. The light from the tv screen is too bright, illuminating Steve’s peaceful face when I look up. He’s deeply entrenched in what I recognise as scenes from Helm’s Deep, a serene smile on his face. His hand rests on my waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I feel an intense urge to reach up and kiss him, but I don’t. Instead, I hum and stretch and rub my eyes.

He looks down. “Hey.” It’s merely a breath. “I didn’t want to wake you up, you looked so comfortable.”

You have no idea. “How many orcs has Gimli killed yet?” I want to tell him, I should tell him. But I don’t know how. And definitely not now. Not when I’m like this. I don’t want to come across as a smitten patient who has a crush on her carer. Not when this is so much more. Damn! I’m in too deep. This is going to be torture!

Steve chuckles and glances up at the tv again. “Seventeen?”

There is something in his eyes, I can’t decipher it, and instead of trying, I shift my attention back to the film, muttering “Hado i philinn,” simultaneously with Aragorn, and lose myself in Middle Earth for a couple of hours.

***

The brush glides through my hair, followed by a gentle hand. Careful movements, every one calculated to do the least amount of damage. It’s a secret dance that we’ve been rehearsing for the last couple of weeks, and I’m sad to see it end.

On the surface, my wound has healed. I can move a lot easier, stretch my torso, twist around. Yes, I still get tired quickly, and I still can’t stand for long amounts of time, but it’s time I take over my own bedtime routine.

I close my eyes, savour his touch, his fingers in my hair… It’s more than I had ever dreamt of. As I exhale, a tiny whimper follows. Steve stops immediately. Oh no!

He lets go and lean down to get a look at my face. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Was it too rough?”

Shit. How do I explain away this one? I can’t. I shake my head and take a deep breath. Inside me every emotion swirls together like a tempest. “No, Steve. You didn’t hurt me. You didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, you do everything right. The thing is…” I pause, watching his face fall.

“Oh.” He gets to his feet and starts to walk away, still with the brush in his hand. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

Not thinking, I reach for his hand. I try to pull him back, but I’m not strong enough yet. The movement shoots daggers through my stomach, but it’s easy to ignore it. “Wait.” The word is small and weak, but important. “Let me finish, please.” Then you can leave, if you need to, I add in my head.

He turns back, watching me with wary eyes.

I weigh my words. If I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna do this right. “The thing is…” I repeat, then clam up again. Come on! You can do this! I clear my throat. “Steve… I love you.”

His jaw drops, as does the hairbrush. It clatters to the floor, but I don’t think he notices. Blinking stupidly, he just stands there like an idiot. If I weren’t so nervous, I’d laugh.

“I have for a long time,” I continue quickly, afraid I’m gonna lose my momentum. “But I was afraid to say something, because I don’t want you to think I’m crushing because you’re kind to me and take care of me, and I don’t want to ruin our friendship, or the team. I didn’t want to make it awkward, but now that I’ve spent so long with you, I just forgot for a moment, that I’m supposed to be normal, that we’re not…” I trail off, want to finish with together, but I can’t bring myself to it. Is he reacting? His face tells me nothing. Crap. I’ve fucked it up. “Steve, say something? Please?”

He shakes his head. “Uh. Sorry. I just… I’m…” A gentle smile. “I was going insane, trying to figure out how to tell you – how you make me feel. That I haven’t felt like this since I don’t remember when… And then you beat me to it. I could kiss you. Can I kiss you?”

“Uh-huh.” This time it’s my turn to blink stupidly, but it takes me less time to recover. “Yes. Please!”

I stretch up to meet him halfway, ignoring the doctor’s orders, and throw my arms around him. The distance between us closes and we pause, just for a moment, to drink in the sensation. Both of us smile into the kiss as we melt together, electricity sparking between us, leaping over the skin, tingling in the hottest, darkest depths of our minds.

When he finally draws back, my breath is heavy. I’m not quite sure where I am, but I’m definitely not complaining. Instead, I pull him back to me, and he follows, hungrily, to kiss me again.

#steve rogers x reader #fanfiction #fluff #angst

57 notes · View notes

motherboardmania · 19 days ago

Text

i genuinely think daily about how fucking Dogshit this country is for everyone except the people on top, and how the USA's victims are seen as nothing more than a justifiable sacrifice for money or power. death to america.

if the USA were a person i could talk to i would tell it to kill itself

#obligatory 'death to america refers to the country and not its people' clarification. Whatever.#ydl

14 notes · View notes

enlitment · 6 months ago

Note

Top 5 myths/legends/folklore? :)✨

Thank you for the fun ask! ✨ (and sorry for taking so long!)

1. The Sacrifice of Iphigenia

I'm not exactly sure why, but it may be my favourite piece of Greek mythology. There's just something about it that resonates with me. I definitely prefer the versions in which Iphigenia gets saved at the last minute by Artemis (and I'm here for any potential queer readings).

I also think it's interesting how it highlights the parallels between a wedding ceremony and a ritual sacrifice (things like white colour symbolising purity, symbolic death of the bride for her old family, priest being present, a subsequent feast, even the fact that blood was technically expected in both cases). Something I've been thinking about ever since I watched the new Contrapoints video.

2. Hyacinth and Apollo

The original death of a twink! Jokes aside, it's quite a tragic story. What I find the most interesting about the myth however is how Hyacinth was mourned/celebrated during the Spartan festival of Hyacinthia. If you want to get really heretic, you could see the festival as a forerunner of some of the later Christian Easter traditions, with the whole death/rebirth motive.

3. Lady Godiva

One of the earliest examples of women getting involved in British politics!

Again, jokes aside, I do appreciate this legend because it is essentially a story of a woman taking risks for a cause that she believes in. It also brings up the idea that femininity can be used as a weapon. That is not necessarily my most favourite take of all, but it's certainly interesting - and this old English myth captures that perfectly!

also the iconography is so cool I mean--

4. The Legend of El Dorado

I definitely think that the legend of the mythical city filled with gold located somewhere in South America can tell one a lot about European colonialism. Not an expert on it by any means (though I'd love to read more about it at some point), but I really enjoyed how it was portrayed in Voltaire's Candide!

5. The Golem of Prague

Okay, obligatory hometown reference. I do find Jewish folklore genuinely fascinating, and the story of a being made of clay that came to life is perhaps the most interesting of all! Some parallels can be traced with later stories - like Frankenstein - or even with things like robots or AI, if you stretch the definition a bit.

It can be seen as a warning that technology can turn against its creator which dates all the way back to the 16th century!

(I also find it really interesting how much emphasis Jewish culture places on the power of words, and the story of the Golem is a great example of it, since words are literally what brings the golem to life).

#ask #ask game #mythology #myths #greek mythology #tagamemnon #the iliad #iphigenia #artemis #hyacinthus #apollo #lady godiva #el dorado #golem #prague #jewish folklore

38 notes · View notes

pluckyredhead · 6 months ago

Text

I am still reading my way through the Fourth World! Last time I talked about all the stuff published in the 70s; now let's talk about the 80s.

Kirby:

New Gods #12: In 1984, DC reprinted Kirby's original New Gods run and threw in an extra issue (not to be confused with Gerry Conway's New Gods #12) so that Kirby could finish the story. This was partially DC being nice and trying to give an aging Kirby money, and partially not because they refused to let him produce the ending he wanted, which was Orion and Darkseid both dying. After a couple scrapped versions, we got this, in which Orion goes down in a hail of laser fire. It's a real bummer, but at least he's extremely homoerotic with his best buddy Lightray first? (Oh, they're getting a whole separate post, just you wait.)

The Hunger Dogs: This "graphic novel" (it's only 64 pages but back then that counted) came out a year later and was the "conclusion" to the Fourth World saga. Once again DC and Kirby butted heads because Kirby really wanted to kill everyone and DC was like "But our IP!!!" In the final version, only supporting characters Himon and Esak die, which is sad but not going to do any damage to DC's bottom line.

It turns out Orion is not dead despite being riddled with holes (there's an intriguing suggestion that he has some kind of healing ability because he possesses the Life Equation, which like everything else in this book is presented with zero context or explanation), which is great because it gives him an opportunity to be homoerotic with Lightray again, although he has also been given an Obligatory Heterosexual Love Interest, Himon's daughter Bekka.

Anyway this book is baffling. Highfather blows up New Genesis (everyone survives) to taunt Darkseid, who is overthrown by the downtrodden masses of Apokalips. There's some shouting about the dangers of technology and maybe some anti-Cold War rhetoric about stockpiling weapons, but it's all so hysterically overblown - Kirby at his most grandiose - that it's nearly impossible to parse beyond "war bad." I do appreciate that Orion is able to break free of his rage and death wish and just...leave Darkseid behind, but the fact that he's emotionally mature enough to do that now comes pretty much out of nowhere. The art is extremely powerful, at least.

My final thought is that Kirby clearly gleefully ignored everything Englehart, Conway, et al. did and I love that for him.

Super Powers: Darkseid fights the Justice League. This was a comic created to sell a toy line and you can really, really tell.

Post-Kirby:

Legends: I've read this before, but it's great. If you like pre-Flashpoint DC, you should definitely read this, which introduces Amanda Waller and the Suicide Squad, sets up the JLI, and brings Wonder Woman into the post-Crisis DCU. Neither Orion nor Scott are present but this (along with the Happyland issue of the original Forever People) really makes the case for why Glorious Godfrey is one of Kirby's best and scariest Fourth World creations. And I will never complain about John Byrne art.

Forever People (1988): Blecch. It's definitely arrogant to read something and think "I know for certain that Jack Kirby, a man I never met who died when I was a child, would have hated this" but like. I'm right. And it's obvious from the very first page.

Basically, at the end of Kirby's series, the FP were marooned on a random, idyllic planet somewhere with no hope of getting home, so they embraced it as their new, hopeful future. This catches up with them years later, with Serifan (the sweet young kid) drooling and raving alone in the woods, Vykin (the only Black character) dead (he gets better), and the rest of them...living in yuppie paradise? Apparently the planet they ended up on was populated (missing the point) with "primitive" people (racist) so they decided to use Mother Box to forcibly "evolve" the people (SO RACIST) and were able to create...modern-day America? Literally why would they even do that, they're from New Genesis. Mark is mayor and married with kids, and Big Bear and Beautiful Dreamer are married to each other with a baby on the way.

Anyway a nebulous villain/evil force called "the Dark" undoes everything which brings Vykin back to life but takes away Mark's wife and kids (she's alive but still "primitive" and the kids were never born) and Bear and Dreamer's unborn child, which means the only female protagonist spends the whole rest of the miniseries clutching her stomach and going "my baby!" I absolutely don't mean to make light of pregnancy loss but this doesn't feel like a story about a three-dimensional woman experiencing pregnancy loss. It feels like a story that reduces a woman to a) whether or not she's having a baby, which is the only thing she cares about and b) the central point on a vague love triangle with Mark and Bear. SIGH.

Meanwhile they all go to Earth for...some reason...and then Mark gets possessed by the Dark and is evil for a while but then they manage to summon Infinity Man and Mark isn't evil anymore. And it's bafflingly revealed that they're all from Earth in the first place from random different historical time periods and Highfather kidnapped them as babies. Okay???

The Forever People are perhaps Kirby's purest and most optimistic characters, and this cynical take on them actively angered me even though I don't actually care about them at all. I've also basically never cared for J. M. DeMatteis's writing outside of JLI, and I don't like Paris Cullins's art, so this book just had absolutely nothing going for it for me.

Cosmic Odyssey: I do not trust Jim Starlin with the New Gods since I know he's going to kill them all off in 2007. This is...fine, I guess? Starlin really does not like Orion, who he has slaughter a bunch of innocent, brainwashed Thanagarians, and also be deeply bigoted against Forager. Everything else is...fine? It's basically all action. The only character who has an emotional arc is John Stewart because this is the story where he fails to save Xanshi because he's being an overconfident moron, but the moral at the end of the comic is like "Get over it already" so...that happens. It's fine.

But man, that Mike Mignola artwork is worth the price of admission alone. That guy's great at drawing.

Mister Miracle Special: The plot of this is that Barda doesn't want Scott to be an escape artist anymore because it's too dangerous, even though a) she's a warrior of Apokalips and b) he's an active Justice League member and she seems fine with that. So okay.

Mister Miracle (1989): Okay, so the basic premise here - Scott and Barda try to adjust to normal life in the suburbs - is good. And it's a spiritual spinoff of JLI, which is of course one of my favorite books of all time. But this book is like...imagine someone screaming "Iiiiiiit's WACKY!" over your shoulder constantly while you're reading. That's what reading Mister Miracle (1989) is like. Highfather wears a tuxedo! Funky Flashman shows up a lot! Scott fights a giant alien noodle! Some of it is actually funny, but most of it is trying so hard to be funny that it's just exhausting.

There are some interesting character moments in there. Scott, Barda, and Orion all get to call Highfather out. Orion mentions wishing he was closer to Scott. There are hints at Scott's depression and suicidal tendencies, which I find really fascinating. But all of it is always immediately overshadowed by ZANINESS.

Anyway, I think we as DC fans deserve a do-over with a new Scott and Barda book about their lovingly domestic (kinky) life together on Earth that is funny but not desperately mugging for laughs in every panel. And I think it should be set in Vegas where Scott has a residency. Call me, DC!

New Gods (1989): This book was mostly written by Mark Evanier (a couple issues were by Starlin), who was one of Kirby's assistants back when he was originally creating the Fourth World, so you might think it would feel the closest to a continuation of Kirby's vision. Instead, I am making it Exhibit A in my argument for why a character should never be assigned to a writer who obviously fucking hates their guts.

I mean, I don't know that Evanier hates Orion. But boy does he write him like he does. Starlin's Orion (who again, we get a couple issues of here) is a monster, but Evanier's Orion is just an incompetent idiot, forever slamming himself against the brick wall of his inevitably becoming his father. Almost every single issue has at least one character, often multiple characters, bemoaning Orion's absolutely unproductive violence and inability to learn or comprehend basic concepts that should not be at all new to him after living most of his life on New Genesis (i.e. justice, mercy, compassion). Even fucking Kalibak is like "Wow, you're a useless idiot." Kalibak! The king of useless idiots!

The comic is so into hating on Orion that it hates on him when he's not actually doing anything bad; at one point he walks into a nuclear reaction that's melting down in a desperate attempt to stop it before it kills everyone, and Big Bear is like "Wow, he's just like his father." REALLY, BIG BEAR? Show me the comic where Darkseid risks his life to save thousands of strangers. I'll wait.

This series also features:

a hawkish, bloodthirsty New Genesis military leader who keeps trying to overthrow Highfather, which both seems to undercut the whole point of New Genesis as well as Orion's uniqueness as The Angry Guy;

an Earth woman with the worst gaydar in the universe repeatedly failing to fuck an increasingly uncomfortable Lightray;

but then Lightray falls in love with a dead woman he never met?;

also Orion gets a crush on a bug lady and learns to stop being racist against bugs (she's not impressed and good for her)

and Lightray and Orion parade around Earth in the WORST fashions of the late 80s/early 90s, which is about all this book has going for it.

Anyway it was bad and I'm glad I'm done with it. Next up: the 90s!

#fourth world #orion #lightray #mister miracle #scott free #barda free #meta

13 notes · View notes

isfjmel-phleg · 10 months ago

Text

This is a personal post.

My younger self found Dear America too depressing because almost all the books featured a death, but I loved The Royal Diaries, which also featured a lot of death, including some pretty tragic stuff (the Anastasia diary was one of my favorites). Doesn't really make sense. Is it less depressing if it happened in real life and therefore has to be part of the story, rather than a fictional death contrived to add obligatory Drama to the narrative?

#random personal stuff #in retrospect TRD were not great literature #or even always good portrayals of their subjects #I came away with some impressions of certain historical figures that were lacking in nuance at best and stereotypical at worst #however it did ignite a love of royal history in me and led me to explore nonfictional sources for further information #so it wasn't entirely a waste of my time #but I do wish that TRD had done a better job of making it clear to the audience what was real and what was fictionalized #because ten-year-old me was taking a lot of nonsense as gospel

23 notes · View notes

electronickingdomfox · 6 months ago

Text

"Crisis on Centaurus" review

Novel from 1986, by Brad Ferguson. This one has a very "80's American action movie" feel. From the terrorist attack on a country incidentally called "New America", to the incursion into the Pentagon (I mean, the "Centaurus Defense Center"), up to the obligatory car chase (only that they're flying cars). There are also plenty of references to American brands, that supposedly would have survived into the 23rd century. Though the constant mention of money seems a bit weird (I thought money was a thing from the past in Star Trek? Might be wrong, though). Also, the terrorists are racists that want to see their country free of alien influences (and it's made abundantly clear that for them, "alien influences" include also any non-white human). It's a fast-paced novel, and keeps the reader's attention at all times, though I don't think there's much more to it than that.

The cover would suggest that Joanna McCoy plays a big role in the story. In reality, she appears very, very little, the same as her father. The other characters, however, get a fair amount of exposure, including Uhura (who gets the con for a large part of the story), Scotty (who's given an even more Scottish engineer partner), Chekov (with his own mini-romance subplot) and Sulu. As it's usual with many of these novels, Kirk seemed to me a bit off. At times, he's more Bruce Willis than Kirk here. And I have difficulty imagining him as a land-owner who's been investing in the Centaurian countryside all these years (if the movies had shown anything at this point, it's that Kirk's heart was never on land). Anyway, I don't know why getting Kirk right is so hard, while Spock and McCoy are usually fine; it might be due to the subtleties of Kirk's character. Another noteworthy thing, is that this novel often presents the thoughts of the characters, to a greater degree than other books.

Spoilers under the cut:

The first chapter already sets things into motion at a breakneck pace. A suspicious guy is waiting in the New Athens spaceport (a city of New America, in the planet Centaurus). When two policemen recognize him as a certain Holtzman, he gets arrested, and in a panic, he activates a minuscule piece of antimatter inside the box... A microsecond later, New Athens doesn't exist anymore, being replaced by a giant, smoldering crater.

Meanwhile, the Enterprise is having problems of its own. The computers have been completely fucked up, and nobody knows why: there's no air circulation, no temperature regulation, no artificial gravity, nothing... The scene of everybody floating around, while Sulu's scalding shower water floats through the corridors as a giant ball, is actually pretty funny. Scotty and his new partner, MacPherson, manage to reestablish some sense of order, but the ship is seriously crippled. Repairs will have to wait, though, since Starfleet orders the Enterprise to assist in the Centaurus crisis. There's been at least a million deaths in the explosion; possibly among them several relatives of the crew, including McCoy's daughter: Joanna. However, the tachyon cloud released by the antimatter explosion has made all subspace communications impossible, so Centaurus is isolated. For his part, Spock investigates the computer malfunction, and finds out a mysterious hole that has pierced several computer banks at exactly the same point; however, he can't make heads or tails of it.

Upon approaching Centaurus, they discover that other relief ships in orbit have been reduced to debris. And a transmission through conventional radio (the only radio that can penetrate the tachyon cloud) warns the Enterprise not to approach. Sure enough, the ship is attacked by a nuclear missile from Centaurus. It seems the Defense Center has gone crazy after the explosion, and now launches missiles at any approaching ship, friend or foe. Fortunately, the Defense computers consider the Enterprise anihillated after the first strike, so they don't continue the attack. Kirk leaves in a shuttle with Sulu, to meet with the new government at the temporary capital of McIverton. While Spock leaves with Chekov in another shuttle, to investigate the Defense Center and deactivate the missile system.

There's a brief interlude, that presents some suspicious guys (led by this Barclay dude) hiding at a safe house. It's obvious they're related to the terrorist attack, and Barclay instructs some of his goons to meet with a certain person, and force him to cooperate.

In McIverton, Kirk meets with the new president, the Minister of Defense, and the Minister of Internal Security (Nathaniel Burke). The president explains that the terrorist attack was done by a racist political group, led by the scientist Holtzman, to get more power for his group.

At the Defense Center, Spock is unable to reprogram the computer to differentiate between friendly and hostile ships. So he's like "well, let's blow up this bazillion missiles in the sun and problem solved!" (and yeah, this is totally in-character for Spock; the guy is that crazy sometimes). Thus, Spock expands the defense area of the computer to include Alpha Centauri, the computer interprets the sun as a hostile element, and launches all the remaining missiles at it. Poof! After solving this problem, Spock takes the shuttle to the northern area of New Athens, where there have been some survivors. A makeshift hospital has been established in a park, and there they find Joanna working as a nurse, safe and sound. There's a moving reunion between her and McCoy, who stays behind to help the injured. While Spock's shuttle makes trips to the Enterprise to bring medical supplies.

At McIverton, Kirk is visited at his hotel by the lawyer Samuel Cogley (from the episode Court Martial). Cogley explains that he was approached by Barclay to defend them at a Federation trial, and not on Centaurus (which has a death penalty for terrorism). And Kirk, despite not having the slightest sympathy for the criminals, considers that the matter belongs in a Federation court and vows to fulfill his duty. However, that same morning, Sulu appears drugged in bed, and the hotel surrounded by Burke's men. The Minister isn't going to let the terrorists off the hook, since he lost his family in the explosion. Kirk, Sulu and Cogley make a frantic escape in a flying car (well, not so frantic for Sulu, who's still sleeping like a log). They retrieve Barclay and his men, and take refuge in Kirk's cabin in Garrovick Valley (a beautiful, secluded forest area that Kirk bought a long time ago).

In the final part, Kirk and his companions barricade themselves inside the cabin, surrounded by Burke's troops. Until the Enterprise, having received a faint distress signal from the cabin, comes to the rescue... by entering the godamn atmosphere!! (didn't I say earlier that Spock's totally nuts?). Cogley decides to just bring the terrorists to the Federation, but not represent them, when it's made obvious that they were also involved in Holtzman's attack. The rest of the antimatter bombs, that the terrorists kept as leverage, are also identified and deactivated. While New Athens is slowly reconstructed, by the joint effort of the locals and new relief ships from all over the Federation.

As for the strange holes in the Enterprise computer banks... Spock ends up concluding that they were caused by a minuscule black hole, which existed just for a fraction of second, and the Enterprise traversed at warp speed. Does it mean that, at any time, at any place, a mini-black hole could appear out of nowhere and just pierce you like that!? That's the stuff of nightmares, really...

Spirk Meter: 5/10*. Kirk wants to show Spock his "special, secret place" (no! not THAT!, I mean his valley at Centaurus). Kirk considers that Spock would appreciate its aesthetic beauty, and invites him to stay there with him as long as he wants. Spock is also a bit hurt because Kirk didn't tell him about the valley earlier. Actually, the rating could be a bit higher, considering that the cabin is said to have just a twin bed, and a massage bed for two. Apart from this, Kirk notices things about Spock that nobody else seems to see (like Spock swallowing nervously sometimes). The two of them interact very little in the novel, though, since they take separate paths.

Some Spones too. When Spock meets Joanna, he finds her strikingly similar to McCoy and... magnificient. He thinks of her as a "softer McCoy, pretty without glamour", which says a little about how he sees the doctor himself. Also, when McCoy is in emotional turmoil upon learning that Joanna is alive, after so many days of uncertainty, Spock says to himself: "I know that feeling well, Doctor. Draw strength from me, if you need it." (only that McCoy has no telepathy so... how is he going to hear that!?).

And then there's the McKirk. A flashback chapter presents a young Ensign Kirk recovering from a wound at a starbase hospital. There he first meets this kind Dr. McCoy, who helps him through the painful months of recovery. After Kirk is healed, McCoy invites him to stay with him at Centaurus, where his daughter lives with some relatives. And McCoy brings Jim to these beautiful woods and wilderness areas, just the two of them and Joanna, and well... you know. It's even more evident, because McCoy is relieved upon seeing that Joanna approves of Jim (seems like the little girl was troublesome with most of her daddy's dates). Too bad for poor McCoy, that Kirk ends up inviting a pretty nurse (and then Spock) to his cabin, and not him...

*A 10 in this scale is the most obvious spirk moments in TOS. Think of the back massage, "You make me believe in miracles", or "Amok Time" for example.

#star trek tos #star trek novels #novel review #spirk #k/s #spones #mckirk

16 notes · View notes

lassie719 · 1 year ago

Text

FF7 Characters' Taste in Music Headcanons: Part 1 (party members)

Cloud: When he was a teenager, he listened to "the greats": Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, etc. and was honestly kind of insufferable about it. Now he listens to White Stripes and is unaware that that's not cutting edge hip anymore (aka Cloud is my gf lol)

Tifa: Went through a country phase as a teenager (insert obligatory cowboy hat reference). Now she listens to 70s hair bands and dance remixes of pop songs during workouts, and folksy indie stuff like Avett Brothers during calmer moments

Aerith: indie, especially with folk or punk influences. She has a pair of clunky headphones that she's particularly fond of

Barrett: 70s R&B, credits Marvin Gaye as a formative influence, unironically and passionately sings along to Aretha Franklin at any opportunity. Often makes comments like "Now this is the good stuff" as he cranks up his faves. Also introduced a lot of funk and a little bit of disco into his diet because Marlene likes to dance to it

Red/Nanaki: Jazz. He only kind of gets it but listens for clout with a contemplative look on his face

Cid: Jimmy Buffett, America, boomer dad rock. He's annoying about it. "This is good music, not whatever kids listen to nowadays."

Yuffie: In direct response to Cid, will often blast k pop. When she's not trying to own Cid, she listens to any female-fronted band/powerful female figure like Beyonce and Rihanna

Vincent: Big band/swing/ballads from the 40s. Stuff that he finds romantic but puts him out of touch with literally every other human on earth. Only listens late at night on shitty speakers to maximize how sad it makes him.

Cait Sith: Has the innate ability to blast carnival music. Reeve listens to 2000s indie like Peter, Bjorn, and John and Death Cab for Cutie.

#ff7 #cloud strife #ffvii #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy #headcanons #tifa lockhart #aerith gainsborough #barrett wallace #red xiii #yuffie kisaragi #cid highwind #vincent valentine #cait sith #reeve tuesti #music

28 notes · View notes

madstronaut · 8 months ago

Text

guess wot my fellow hoes (fellhoes?) you’re getting a two-fer-one deal

obligatory alpha post link below:

because I have been deep in my werewolf/hybrid!CODmen fixation while I was drunk off reading moondrunk I decided to take a break...

....by reading johnny boy and i dont want to even look at that ao3 history stat that tells you how many times you've visited this story IT IS A LOT

my record for one of my comfort stories is 79 times and that was back in january last i looked, and it doesn't count the copypaste backup i have in my notes in case of airplane mode. don't look at me rn (cough obligatory @the-californicationist G&G reference/tag here)

ANYWAY MOVING ON 🐺🐺🐺

Reading: Moondrunk Monster by @ghostgorlsworld

so I went to watch the Love Death Robots episode referred to here and UNFFFF forgot how good that whole series was! wolflovers, go watch the Shape-Shifters episode from S1

once again i love a good fleshed-out reader backstory and this one is no exception

also as a certified graves simp the spittake I had to clean up at reading the phrase “Captain Graves”

also wolf-friendly pain medication? please i would happily read an appendix or endnotes/footnotes about the lore/worldbuilding here <3

"They weren’t used to humans being kind to them."🥺🥺🥺🥺

me to myself: tbh in many ways this is the world we are living in rn

that line about reader sleeping in the back of the med bay reminded me of this famous pic I saw way back when:

U.S. Army nurse Amy Stuart of the 5th MASH unit deployed in Saudi Arabia naps on a cot while hugging a teddy bear sent by her family during Operation Desert Storm (February 22, 1991)

getting a little too real but at my age, always hurts my heart and deeply disturbs me to see people younger than me who i consider children going off to/waging war COUGH ANYWAY SRY ESCAPING REALITY BACK TO FANFIC-

piney has such a succinct, tight way of writing to set the scene and story premise up so well - fucking salivating at ghost taking reader to their tent and him getting miffed at her sitting on soap’s bunk until she sits on his <3 LMAO I SEE YOU GHOSTY YOU LITTLE LOVESICK PUPPY YOU~

You glanced down, seeing the Scottish flag on the wall, the photos of a couple that looked exactly like Johnny. “Oh, sorry.”

ok but also johnny WOULD have selfies of himself up on his own bunk

“ahm easy on the eyes, aint i LT”

“shut it”

You were American, so you didn’t have much taste for tea unless it was iced and sweet.

me, a rabid tea swiller, raising my hand: UM NOT ALL AMERICANS HATE “TREE PISS” AS TED LASSO CALLS IT OKAY (okay but I love that show so much)

unfff wolf!ghost crowding reader into his own bed forcing her to sleep in it is just *so many chef’s kisses*

Gaz was healed within a day, coming to visit you with a Snickers bar as thanks. “I’ve been saving it for an occasion,” he said. “Wolves…well, we can’t really have chocolate without quite a bit of pain so I thought I would give it to you instead. As thanks.”

ok this was the most adorable loredrop ever also literally heartbroken at the idea they can’t enjoy chocolate!!!!

The adjustments were freezing slabs of raw beef and plating it up still half-frozen. this reminded me of this frozen organic dog chow i kept getting insta ads for after dogsitting for a friend (if u can hear this siri/insta ad algorithms, FUCK YOU RESPECT MY PRIVACY) anyway in the ad the way the person plated it for their dog and the way their dog ate it with such gusto made me, a human, want to try the dog food lol

“Not everyone in America lives in Texas, Soap.”

👏thank👏 you👏facts👏

You smiled. “A small town in Oklahoma.”

“Bloody hell, that’s just Texas.”

👏also👏 facts👏 (don’t come for me texans this new yorker will (lovingly) fuck you up; god bless amurica)

He was wearing gloves, as always, but they were warm when he pressed them against the scars, fitting his fingers into the obvious claw marks.

The 141 was silent, watching Ghost with a mixture of surprise and horror. Price looked as if he were about to intervene, his knuckles white around his fork.

i fucking l o v e this entire scene

They were still strangers to you, but the base felt too quiet without them, and your skin felt bare without Ghost’s stare upon it.

i am shivering at how good this sentence is

ghost: has a record for being more wolf than human and acts of aggression against humans

also ghost: makes tea for reader regularly when she can’t sleep

also reader if you’re having a eat-three-powdered-donuts-in-one-sitting kind of day, you eat that whole box girl no one will fault you for it <3

Ghost hummed, then came the unmistakable sound of licking the sugar off his fingers. There had also been blood on his fingertips, from the night’s previous activities.

You don’t want to think about why that makes your belly clench.

😏😏😏we love the feral ones

also unexpected gifts are some of the best ones

i felt the adrenaline of the humvee ambush like i was watching a live action movie - i could picture the entire scenes very easily in my head <3

and ghost taking off her boots >>>>>>>>

A man in a skull mask was asleep in the chair in front of you, his head tipped back against the wall, his legs relaxed and spread wide.

ah yes, classic submission position~

The meek little nurse that had put a Colonel’s son in the ER.

meek is one of my favorite words. i have heard an alternate definition for this as “meekness is great power under control” and it stuck in my head ever since; pls bow before medic reader my meek badass queen

Your heart raced. It was such a human instinct, to see a predator and want to either kiss it or run from it.

ah yes imho the heart of why wolf/hybrid and enemies-to-lovers etc. etc. etc. tropes and fics are so popular~

Ghost seemed to like your attention, his ears perked at the top of his head. It was oddly endearing, and you normally considered yourself a cat person.

hehe big ghost wolf, smol floppy ears - i will not let this image leave my head

ok and the wolflore about the recessive genes!! eating it all up <3

also i know this is a ghostfic but soap blushing and mumbling bout his coffeeshop crush is soo <333333333

"you’re too young to feel old and miserable like me.” Soap smiled, a bit of cheer back in his eye. “You’re only three years older’n me, lass, I wouldn’t call ye old.”

literally me to anyone <30/even a year younger than me

"ALSO, yes i'm setting up for a future soap/cafe!reader fic"

okay the unholy screech that erupted from me at reading this author’s note i’m-

Graves sat in a simple metal chair, cool, calm and collected without a single blonde hair out of place.

me fully knowing graves isnt even doing anything here, just sitting: go off, king

“I wasn’t going to let that boy take my soul, sir,” you said calmly. “Not for something as worthless as a career.”

well said indeed <3

You wondered if he would come visit you, if you asked. If he would sit in your dusty, frilly living room and drink from your pumpkin shaped mugs.

PUMPKIN-SHAPED MUGS <3 <3 <3

Price looked up from a paperback, a twitch in his brow. He preferred to keep out of conflicts between the pack, only interfering when blood was spilled.

oh please my headcanon for price is that he inhales gossip like oxygen and keeps it filed and sorted alphabetically and chronologically in his mind palace to pull up as needed

They were on active duty, for Christ’s sake, it wasn’t like he could bend her over against one of those cots and stake his claim, COUGHOMGWHYTHEEVERLOVINGFUCKNOTCOUGH no matter how badly he wanted to.

The 141 hunted at night, so during the day Gaz and Soap would occasionally bring you a muffin for breakfast or a stray cup of coffee. Even Price, the fatherly man he was, brought you one of his extra novels to read while you were awake during the night shift, one of those cheesy detective thrillers that helped you get through the night without passing out on a patient.

who doesn’t love familial!141 🥰🥰

it’s nice to remind yourself that you’re still a simple woman that appreciates a nice mani-pedi and a good hair day.

this is so real - taking care of yourelf/reminding urself to feel human is so important <3

You had the rank and the experience, so of course, you got the lion’s share of reports. ahem this a small almost throwaway line but much appreciated - LEADERSHIP IS FOR SERVICE. TO SHOULDER THE BURDEN FOR THOSE UNDER YOU, AND LIFT THEM UP. TAKE THE HITS SO THEY DON’T HAVE TO - ONES THEY AREN’T EVEN AWARE OF IF YOU’RE GOOD AT IT. anyway stepping down once again from my soapbox-

ah reader i can think of many MANY MANY spicy ways to motivate ghosty to do his patriotic duty~

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

AND ALSO Reading: Johnny Boy by @ghostgorlsworld

first off being thrown into the deep end of the incredible lorebuilding had me ready to swim and dive deep without even taking a breath of reality because the story!!!! the worldbuilding!!!! absolutely immaculate

a recurring daydream/brainrot scenario ive gone back to time and again with my blorbos through the years is getting knocked up with their spawn and having to escape and go on the run and hide the child then have an implausibly wild reunion, often with some physically impossible makeup sex and then birth my own private sports team's worth of children to build our world empire (drama, romance, intrigue, adventure - i would buy out opening night tickets to the movieplots my brain spits out, anyway ty for coming to my BedTedTalk) anyway this has such a unique niche in the CODfics ive read with the almost enemies-to-lovers-back-to-enemies flavoring with brother’s best friend trope in play

on that note, shaking tom’s hand vigorously for sneaking johnny back into reader’s life, then backhanding him with my other hand - also for sneaking johnny back into reader’s life

cute-ass mactavish sire emma needs to eat raw meat to survive? her supernatural senses make her an old soul in a child’s body? no further comments, absolute perfection. i love the explorations of “hey scenting/being a hybrid, ESPECIALLY growing up as one, ain’t all its cracked up to be and is not just all 100% sexy times and funsies” and her picking up on mom being sad all the time a certain someone is near and declaring “if mommy doesn’t like him, I don’t either” just UGGHHHH i just want to give her a hug and tell her it will all work out, shes is in good hands (including but not limited to her own!) also tear the throat out of anyone who would dare steal her childhood (fistbumping my fellow immigrant first gen firstborns&eldest daughters who had to grow up too fast/take care of adults)

also one of the reasons i love this fic is the very fierce and protective love reader has for her emma and their really beautiful bond <3 fanfic can be so healing and tender in very unexpected ways and their relationship slipped past all my walls and armor and just stuck me right in the feels <3

the conversation about grandpa jack haunting them and turning the book pages for him was so sweet i think my molars rotted away on the spot, 🥺🥺🥺 piney i will be billing you for my dental visit expenses; be prepared to pay cos ive always wanted to secretly try out grillz as a new yorker girlie

also random brainrot but 1000% positive grandpa jack was a fucking hottie in his glory days (underground fighting rings? picturing tyler durden rn)

also please give mama reader a fucking medal, cutting up raw meats and organs first thing in the morning (EVERY morning) is a feat indeed

also johnny/reader’s first meeting at the funeral home is absolutely exquisite, the perfect amount of drama and angst!!! raaaaaa biting my pillow and tearing it to pieces

- reader’s physical reaction to the “he’s behind me, isn’t he” revelation

- johnny’s physical glow-up described through reader’s eyes is just UNFFFF *chef’s kiss*

- reader going straight into panic/mama bear mode re: emma

- “it could have been longer, john” HOLY FUCKING SHIT MY ICE COLD QUEEN PLEASE I CANNOT KNEEL BEFORE YOU FASTER OR I’LL BREAK MY KNEECAPS

- “your voice so cold it stung your tongue as you spoke. The ache in your chest was overtaken by rage, pure and hot. “Excuse me.” i am f e r a l for this line, this is PERFECTION i can taste the emotions here like viscerally on my tongue

- honestly kudos to reader for not punching tom’s lights out when she’s running to get emma from him

“I don’t care.” You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. You wanted to dig your nails into his skin and hurt him like he hurt you. “We don’t need you, we never needed you. I loved you, and you left for years . Deal with the consequences.”

Johnny Mctavish, a wolf, a soldier, flinched from you.

It wasn’t the victory you thought it would be.

AAAAAAAA YES THIS IS ME AS I READ THIS REVELING IN THE ANGST

also the last line of ch1 being “Forget him. John always runs.” and summary of Ch2 being “Johnny comes home.” ????? gonna run out of my lipstick giving chef’s kisses to piney here

the way piney fleshes out reader and her story and history with johnny just makes me want to give her a ginormous hug, also like an all-expenses paid weeklong vacation to the maldives or something for the absolute bullshit she’s endured (might have to join you on this though dear reader my salary/responsibilities working in [redacted] means i also need an all-expense paid weeklong vacation to the maldives)

also I FUCKING SUSPECTED JOHNNY WAS SECRETLY TRYING TO SCENT READER WHEN HE SNUCK UP ON HER TO GET CLOSE ENOUGH TO SURPRISE HER BY PUTTING HIS MITTS ON HER SHOULDER; i love that emma picked up on this through her nose

“Because you still smell like me, kitty.” brain going brrrr being overloaded with conspiracy theories about teh many layers what this may mean

wolves were different from normal men. Territorial.

me, reading about fictional territorial wolfmen on tumblr: 🥰🥰🥰

me, reading about IRL men being ‘territorial’: 🤢🤢🤢

“Grandpa was like me,” she said, loyal as always.

i’ll be totally honest the character i fell head over heels with in this story was not johnny taking first place no - EMMA MACTAVISH MY HEART <3 i hope my future children will be brave, kind, wise, funny and compassionate like you <3

It seemed that the only person suffering in this situation was you.

this line + the short almost throwaway line of reader “laughing wetly” just before it just ughhh my heartache! shoutout to all the hardworking parents/caregivers simply Trying Their Best And Getting No Recognition™️ (madstronaut sees you and applauds you, great is your reward in heaven and or the pits of tumblrhell, dealer’s choice)

“It wasn’t your decision to make, Tom,” you said, your voice reaching that pitch that made you feel like your mother. god this got too real, when i hear myself sound like my mother sometimes (esp. when im mad) i literally narrow my eyes at my own reflection and have to check myself before i wreck myself iykyk

also freaking love the lore about hybrids/wolves being discriminated against in society and johnny’s own experience and pitfalls navigating the world! lorebuilding>>>>>>>>>>>>

You were dressed more appropriately this time, a Black Sabbath tee and sweats, your work clothes of pencil skirts, trousers, and wool sweaters currently drying on the laundry lines in the backyard.

ok reader i see you my little rocker <3 you would love saint vitus bar in brooklyn; make tom or johnny watch emma so we can headbang to our heart’s content and you can enjoy a well-deserved night out <3 (on that note #REOPENVITUSYOUCOWARDS)

Emma two-handed it, just like you tell her to. It seemed she was trying to be on her best behavior, the little traitor.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH EMMA YOU LITTLE DEVIOUS ADORABLE SHIT (said goodnaturedly) I LOVE THIS LINE SO MUCH

Something in your chest squeezed when Johnny tucked the blanket around Emma’s skinny arms, more gentle than you had ever seen him.

ok though real talk men being gentle and tender, esp. around kiddos - hi, yes please sirs you can indeed help me mop my panties off the floor

Susan didn’t know what to do with a little boy that chewed on the furniture and got sick when she didn’t let him eat raw meat.

i physically need to see fanart of young wolf!soap gnawing on an armchair leg

This was why you liked Charlie, he was so, so reasonable.

hello charlie or as i like to call you “walking beige flag” the way i would roast him if i was bffs with reader..

also emma drawing that wolf catcher memory and waiting until soap was there to show it to both him and reader - AAGGGGH I freaking loved this and how clever this is i can do an entire pepe silvia conspiracy board meme breakdown of why and how much i loved this whole interaction

emma knowing it is a tough memory for her mama but choosing to draw and show it specifically to johnny - and waiting til they are all in each other’s presences (presence? idk)

i can see reader fighting (a losing battle lets be honest this is johnny fucking mactavish) tooth and nail so far to maintain the armor of assumptions and explanations she’s told herself to deal with the pain of being in love then (from her pov) rejected and how this has bled into how she paints johnny to emma despite her best efforts

and yet as they say sometimes the body says and knows what the mind/heart cannot say yet and 1000% sure that little miss wolf emma mactavish loves her mom but is also sure that momma isn’t sure on where she stands with johnny

also ALSO the fact that jack raised both johnny and emma HAS TO MEAN SOMETHING RIGHT - even though they’ve just met i love the little tidbits of the special wolf-to-wolf and father/daughter connection they have

AND AND AND so my grand theory here is that i believe emma made and showed this drawing to johnny because from what she knows - she perceives mama reader to despise johnny on the surface, yet still wants him - but based on what she’s told her about johnny, thinks johnny may not want mama - and drew this to prove mama is still worthy and a great protector - “You haven’t got any teeth or claws but it didn’t matter.” - and “showing her off” to johnny COUGH ANYWAY THAT’S WHERE I’LL END MY THESIS TYVM

also i love the bits sprinkled around the fic about johnny’s eyes sparkling eerie/brighter when he gets worked up

Perhaps all the war and killing really was good for his temperament.

HAHAHAHA OKAY SHIT, MAMA, WHO IS THE DELULU ONE NOW????????? (tbh it’s me, hi im the probl-)

johnny trying to find excuses to spend his PMC savings & money on reader + emma - IRL me and my bills & student loans crying laughing hysterically at reader turning this down

“Shut up!” Tommy said, frowning at you from the couch. “Fuck, lovie, he’s a friend from work.”

The man in the mask raised a hand in an awkward wave.

HAHAHAHHA SIMON!!! his entrance totally threw me off but ofc tom’s SHUT UP (true sibling energy right here, no greeting, just yells) and simon’s lil wave just UGGGGGGGHHHH such a nice palate cleanser from the intense but delicious angst - also tipping my hat at the subtle way to introduce Bi!Tommy with the “he’s not company he’s a guest” line 😏

You felt Simon’s eyes on you, judging, appraising. You were sure Johnny probably didn’t have the nicest things to say about you–most likely that you were an irritating little girl that followed him around for twenty years then proceeded to get pregnant and raise the child without him knowing,

would love to know what and how TF141 thinks of mama reader from how johnny has described her…despite her own misgivings <3

Johnny was an unsuspecting kind of violent, always smiling and laughing until he wasn’t, until it was serious.

Simon was different. He felt older.

aaaaaa this is SUCH a good characterisation of them both

You had missed him like a lost limb-

ooh i absolutely love this phrase! I have one person in my life i went through a friend breakup with (iykyk - these are more painful than romantic breakups imho) and we mended things and discovered afterwards we both referred to our break in our friendship as ‘having lost a limb’ to other folks (!) sometimes birds of a feather really do flock together

“It’s just…we’re adults, and adults have tricky feelings. preach mama 🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️

but also pls mama i know you have a kiddo but putting on nail polish right before a date? nooooooooooooooooo though chanel polishes ARE superior cos of that fat brush so all is forgiven <3

also obligatory FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING FUCK to charlie for forgetting the date, do you EVEN KNOW THE SUFFERING WE PUT OURSELVES THROUGH TO GET READY FOR A DATE? TO GET READY TO FACE THE WORLD OUTSIDE OUR DOOR, PERIODT?

IF SOMEONE DID THIS TO ONE OF MY GIRLIES I WILL BE READY TO FUCKING SHOW SOMEONE’S BITCH ASS THAT YOU DO NOT NEED TEETH AND CLAWS INDEED TO GET RIGHT FUCKED UP

anyway climbing down from my soapbox on behalf of women everywhere, back to the fic

as a tiny tiny redeemable bit - charlie having weekly dinners with his gran is a huge green flag trait

He stilled, looking at you. His hand came up, pinching your chin like he used to. “You havnae called me Johnny in a very long time.” The rawness of his voice broke you down into someone you used to be, someone that loved him.

me, extremely pleased, reading this: ah yes, in vino veritas~

The alcohol had dampened the anger in your chest, you felt…open. Open to talking about it. Bleeding the poison from the wound.

<3 <3 <3 this line <3 <3 <3

irl sidenote: u can also do this without alcohol my friends <3 trusted friends, therapy, long retreats into nature, safe places, safe people all very effective and cutting right to the heart in the gentlest ways possible, painful but highly recommend over the alternative (and lesser) options of keeping the poison inside <3

Within a blink, Johnny was kneeling before you, his hands on your knees as his eyes bored into yours. You felt a chill, a whisper of fight or flight pricking your neck at his predatory stare.

ahem hello this is it

this is what does it for me

kneelng for your prey <3

also i love that their first real physical intimate contact after reuniting, beyond that hug after the wolf catcher story, is johnny LICKING reader’s tears off her face

“All I had was a picture and letters, but I could get off just from you writing that you missed me, just from your smell lingering on the fucking paper.” whats that phrase? marines make do? 🥰🥰🥰

me, reading about lacy underwear getting shredded: mmmmf yes sexxxxxyyyy

also me: ok i just know that was expensive, cringing inside at having to replace it

also fics that have men talking to ur pussy as they take care of it >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I CANNOT WAIT FOR READER TO WAKE UP AND SCREAM AT HERSELF SAW PT 7 POSTED WOKE UP SCREAMING BLACKED OUT AND CONTINUED MY FEVERISH RANTING ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS FIC IN REBLOGS BELOW

#madstrothought #FaFiCoWriMo #fanfiction #call of duty #simon ghost riley #moondrunk monster #johnny soap mactavish #johnny boy #ghostgorlsworld #BlackPinecreations #werewolf au #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny mactavish x reader

3 notes · View notes