#only because I don’t think anyone else will volunteer the information of why some of them are disabled the way they are

[moonfurthetemmie]

Petruccio and Gonzalo are incredibly overprotective of each other but Gonzalo, while harder to piss off, is worse.

He’s not as jealous, yes. For some reason his brand of crazy has made him less afraid of Petruccio leaving him forever when they’re separated.

But if you’re going to hurt one of them it really should be him and not Petruccio.

If you hurt Gonzalo, Petruccio might spare you too much torment if it’s not serious or Gonzalo recovers quickly, though you’re not going to know until you realize he hasn’t made good on his threats of horrific ritual sacrifice.

If you hurt Petruccio your only hope is that your death is swift. And it entirely depends on how bad the offense is in Gonzalo’s eyes, which…may not fully make sense to anyone who isn’t him or Petruccio.

If you kill either of them you’re going to wish the survivor had just killed you but that’s another story ahaha

[cannedpickledpeaches]

The Drive Home

Floyd Leech x Reader

Notes: Haven’t finished the side stories for Insert Your Name so here’s some Floyd angst while you wait.

Somehow or the other, over the years, you’ve become Floyd’s designated driver.

You’re good friends, so of course you go to the same parties. You don’t drink, so of course he needs someone reliable and sober to take him home . . . if he isn’t going home with a new friend. The latter happened often enough in university that you only showed up to events when he was too hammered to leave with anyone else.

You never bothered to learn about his more personal life. It wouldn’t be too weird to ask—he’s happy to volunteer information unprompted, regardless—but you simply aren’t interested. You’re his childhood friend. It would feel almost gross to like him when his parents’ home welcomes you as warmly as your own. Jade and Floyd are just like your annoying brothers, that’s all.

You’re also really good at convincing yourself.

When you were young and fueled by emotion in high school, you constantly dreamed about Floyd if he was the perfect boyfriend. One who was attentive, fun, and loyal. One who would treat you as someone special, who would never get bored and cast you aside. One who would devote his entire being to you.

Maturing is realizing that’s just not Floyd. And you can respect that. Maturing is understanding that no matter how much your heart likes him, that fairytale prince you conjured in your daydreams with his face doesn’t exist. Maturing is realizing just because you like him doesn’t mean he’s good for you.

But you still like him. You tried, but you can’t change that.

Neon letters flicker and cast their light over the interior of your car as you wait in the driver’s seat. After graduating from university, he moved on from frat parties to clubs. Even while parked by the curb, you can hear the booming music thrumming in your steering wheel. The bass pulses like a second heartbeat.

A tall silhouette stumbles to the door on the passenger side. Neon pinks and purples from the sign behind him light up the flyaways in his messy hair. When he opens the door, the stench of alcohol crashes into you the same way he crashes into the seat. The cologne swirling around in the headache-inducing miasma doesn’t help in the slightest.

“You stink.” To alleviate your nostrils, you roll the windows down. The muted music transitions into a different song with the exact same beat. “I’m thinking about kicking you out and making you walk home.”

“Don’t do that, s’not nice.” His words sound as though his tongue has lost half its flexibility. “Ya’ve got your best friend in your car! Would never dream of doin’ somethin’ so mean, wouldya?”

“If you throw up over the seats, I’m kicking you out. Too bad my best friend isn’t worth cleaning up whatever’s in your stomach right now.”

“Won’t throw up.” His snicker ends in a groan. It takes him several tries to secure his seatbelt. “Fuck. Feel like the world’s spinnin’.”

You pull out a plastic bag from the glove compartment and shove it in his lap.

For a good stretch of the drive, he’s content with humming to himself. You don’t play music in case it makes his headache worse. He makes enough noise to fill the car anyway. His off-tune humming switches through several melodies, some you recognize, some you don’t.

The humming fades into silence. At a stop light, you glance at Floyd to make sure he’s okay. His eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones. You think he’s asleep until his eyes flash open and he gives you a grin.

“Eyes on the road.”

“Just making sure you didn’t kick the bucket.” You catch a glimpse of a red stain on the right side of his Adam’s apple. Your gut twists unpleasantly. “If you’re gonna sleep, turn your face to the right.”

“Why? Y’don’t wanna see my handsome face or what?”

You look forward as the light turns green. “No, you told me to keep my eyes on the road. I just don’t want you transferring those lipstick stains onto the seats.”

“Ain’t gotta be salty that you don’t get laid.” You don’t need to look at him to hear the grin in his voice.

“That’s because I have standards.”

“Like what?”

“Something higher than ‘has a hole.’”

He clicks his tongue playfully. “Jealousy ain’t cute on ya.”

You’re aware. Painfully so. Jealousy feels ugly, gnarled, like a twisting mess of poisoned vines reaching insidious tendrils through your veins. They eventually follow your veins back to your heart, squeezing its walls with every lipstick stain you see on his skin. The wish to possess, to confine him in your clutches when the thing he hates above all others is to be tied down—that isn’t cute in the slightest.

Maturing is keeping the worst thoughts inside. A mature adult like you won’t throw a tantrum or cry dramatically in front of him. No, a mature adult like you can do that in the privacy of your room.

“What’s cute on me, then?” You swallow hard. He won’t remember this conversation by tomorrow. Probably. Not when there are so many other, more interesting conversations from the club to remember.

Awkward silence fills the car. Your fingers leave sweat on the steering wheel. Focusing on the road might help distract you from the odd pause from his ever-present noise.

“Your hands.”

You very nearly step hard on the gas by accident. You weren’t expecting an answer at all, much less this one.

“Why? Is that a fetish, or . . . .”

He barks a laugh. “Nah, who knows?”

“Ew. I’ll kick you out.” Both of you know you won’t. If you’re being honest, you’re a little flattered that he thinks your hands are cute, even if it’s in a platonic way. “Why my hands?”

“Dunno. Just the part of ya I was lookin’ at when y’asked.”

Now that’s an odd answer. At a stop light, you look at him again. His sleepy eyes meet yours, and a lazy grin tugs at the corners of his lips.

“I told you to face your right.”

“Right, right.” He sticks his tongue out, but doesn’t oblige. “How’m I s’posed to give ya a proper answer when I’m not s’posed to look atcha?”

“You can’t think of cute things about me if you aren’t looking at me?” You scoff, turning onto a side street. Almost there. “Think of me in your head or something.”

“My head can’t do ya justice.”

Your heart almost skips a beat. Almost. Because you think of all the other people he’s said those words to. All of a sudden, you feel much less special.

Childhood friends. Maturing is understanding that is all you are, and that is all you will ever be, and that you will never, ever be in a relationship with Floyd Leech unless you want it to come crashing down in infinitesimal pieces.

“I like your eyes, too. Always lyin’.” He laughs. “The eyes of a liar, that’s what ya got. But I like them more this way.”

“Doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

“Well, it is.” His chuckles fade into the ambient rumbling of the car for a few moments before he starts rambling. “I like your laugh, too. And the way ya come to pick me up even when ya complain. And when ya scoff when I do somethin’ nice for ya, but it doesn’t take a genius to tell you’re happy anyway. And your nose when it scrunches up. It gets red when it’s cold.”

“Most people’s noses get red when it’s cold.” You choose to ignore everything else he said.

“Not mine.”

“Most humans.”

It’s the novelty that attracts him. You’d have thought that after living with humans all this time, the novelty of flushed skin would have worn off, but it’s hard to tell with Floyd.

“Wouldya like me more if I was human?”

His voice is nearly lost in the humming of the car. You keep your eyes straight ahead. Vaguely, you wish there was more traffic in this side street. Something to keep your mind off the odd vulnerability in his voice.

“I like you the most the way you are,” you say, and it’s the truth. No matter what he is, human or mer or otherwise, you like Floyd as himself. You’ve fallen in love with a natural disaster, and you only barely have enough sense not to throw yourself in the midst of it. The winds would shred you apart. You desperately struggle against the part of your mind that whispers: at least you would have had it once before being destroyed.

But you’re older and more mature now. You won’t indulge that emotional side of you.

You stop outside his home and put the car in park. “We’re here. Get out of my car.”

A mix between a groan and a whine drags itself out of his throat. The alcohol might be making him woozy, but he can walk to his door just fine. You won’t need to help him anymore than this.

He unfastens his seatbelt and leans over to you. The hug he gives you is so uncoordinated, it feels like he’s simply throwing his weight onto you, his arms flopping uselessly.

“Thanks,” he says a little too loudly for his mouth to be next to your ear. “See ya ‘round.”

“Don’t ask me to pick you up again.”

“Ya say that every time.” He laughs again. Laughter always hides just under his tongue when he drinks. “Ya still come when I call.”

“I won’t anymore.” You don’t mean it.

He waves off your remark and plants a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You stiffen, but you’re sure he’s too drunk to notice. With a boisterous farewell, he stumbles out of your car and disappears beyond his front door, leaving the ghost of his kiss on your skin.

You hate being a mature adult. If you weren’t, maybe you would’ve called after him. You might’ve rolled down the window all the way and pulled on his collar, yanking him close enough to kiss him on the lips. Consequences be damned, caution to the wind, whatever else they say about being young and reckless. But you’re a mature adult, and the best you can do for both of you is watch as he leaves.

[penny00dreadful]

Part 1 Part 3

The F-slur is mentioned here but only mentioned, not used to attack or demean.

“I don’t have a wife. I have… I have a husband.” 

Future-Eddie slapped him on the shoulder. “Hell yeah you do.”

“They legalise it? They-” Robin looked over at her future self, her eyes glossy. “W- they can get married?”

“Yeah.” Future-Robin squeezed Steve and Robin closer. “Yeah. They can get married. Just in a couple of places to start but then country-wide.”

Nancy nodded along as though this was all tactical information useful for defeating Vecna. “Is anyone else going to come through?”

Future-Eddie shrugged. “Not sure. I think Robin and I were zapped here because our past and future selves were in the same geographical location when there was a pulse. So, sorry to say, Nance, but you’re definitely not about to pop in.”

“Why? Where am I?”

“Still on a plane back from Alaska last I heard.”

“What on earth was I doing in Alaska?”

“Spy shit.” The two time travellers said in unison.

Nancy uncharacteristically stumbled in surprise. “Spy shit? Seriously?”

“Well, personally I believe you’re an international 007, Agent Wheeler, but most of the rest think it’s just plain old boring investigative journalism.” His future counterpart clearly hadn’t lost any theatricality with time. 

In fact it seemed to have gotten worse as he waved his arms around. “You’re like, the top dog at it, dude. Literally so good at it that barely anyone knows your name which you definitely use to your advantage. You’re super cagey on details. 

“But this time around, you were in Korea when shit hit the fan. Again, don’t know what you were doing there but I did hear Pyongyang mentioned once so you were only a jump away from Kamchatka when Ellie felt a disturbance in the force so you volunteered to go see if it was the Ruskies again, but no dice. Completely filled in with concrete. We have no idea how you got there so quickly but my money is on spy shit.”

Nancy stared at him open-mouthed as he spoke.

“So… So I do it? I make it? I succeed?”

“More than succeed.”

“And,” Nancy bit her lip, like she didn’t really want to ask the question but she was burning to know nonetheless. “The whole… marriage and kids thing?”

Future-Eddie glanced toward Steve, occupied by Future-Robin who was trying to distract him from the conversation and Eddie’s heart sank.

“Nance, don’t take this the wrong way but I don’t think you ever wanted that. I think you were told to want that, as a woman, but it was never you. You don’t have any kids, you’re not married and I don’t think you ever want to be.”

Nancy looked almost relieved at the information and Eddie was so confused. 

He still had a thousand questions firing around his head so he decided to latch onto something mentioned earlier. 

“Who’s Cassie?”

Future-Eddie smiled softly. “She’s my youngest.”

Eddie choked on thin air. “Kid?!”

“Yeah.”

“Your youngest kid is my age?”

“God, dude. Don’t remind me. You’ll make me feel so old.”

“You are old.”

His future self shoved his arm. “Watch it, whippersnapper.”

“Who’re your other kids?”

“Here, let me show you.” He pulled a slab of something out of his pocket before shaking his head and pulling his wallet out instead. “I think a phone would be a bit too much, so we’ll do the wallet.”

Eddie blinked. “Right.” Like he knew whatever the fuck the guy was on about.

Future-Eddie pulled some photos loose and in the pile Eddie caught sight of a hairy muscular thigh and a torso littered in old scars stretched obscenely out on a bed and dressed in black lace before the photo was swiftly snatched out of sight and Future-Eddie stuffed it down his pants.

“Woah, whoops! You don’t need to be seeing that!”

“Eddie!” Future-Robin called, staring at him wide eyed. “Oh my god, you keep that photo in your wallet?!”

“It was an anniversary gift!”

“He’s going to rip you a new asshole once he finds out.”

“God.” Future-Eddie breathed. “I hope so.”

Eddie knew his face must be lobster red. From what he had just seen of his future husband, he was hot, metal as shit with those scars and willing to do things like… that?! He’d hit the damn jackpot. 

If only he’d seen his face.

“Moving on!” Future-Eddie called brightly. “My girls.” He held out a photo of three teenagers backstage at some kind of concert. It looked like they were laughing at something that had just happened behind the camera, their backs to the stage. They all looked wildly different from each other. 

“They’re older now, obviously, but this photo… It’s my favourite. Rhea, Poppy and Cassie." He pointed at each of them respectively 

The girl on the left looked to be the oldest, blonde and short with glasses, dressed in oversized flannels and baggy ripped jeans. Her mouth was wide open in what must have been a cackle, nearly bent double with one hand on her sister's shoulder, keeping her balance.

The girl in the middle was taller, her hair was dyed a dark purple colour with two piercings over her black painted lips, dressed in flowing black lace. She had both hands up as if she’d just been hiding behind them, her eyes wide and incredulous, seeming to only really let out a giggle.

The third was a similar height to the girl in the middle, black haired and freckled, dressed in bright pastel colours with a cast on her arm. She was half hiding her face behind her hair, turned towards her sisters but her smile was so wide her eyes all but disappeared.

They all looked so happy together. 

Holy shit. 

He only ever had Wayne and now… well, in the future he has a husband and three daughters (holyshitholyshitholyshit), he’d built a family.

“Pretty unbelievable, right?” Future-Eddie smiled across at him, warm and content.

“Just wait ‘till you find out what he does for work!” Future-Robin shouted at him from up ahead.

Work? Eddie had never had a job before and everything in his future seemed so perfect, maybe this was the downer. God he hoped it wasn’t some corporate bullshit.

“What do you do for work?”

Future-Eddie blushed which was very fucking odd and scratched at the back of his neck. “I’m retired.” He shrugged.

“Eddie. You’re not going to tell him?”

“How can I tell him? Look at him! He’s having the worst week of his life! He’s being hunted by a town full of evangelical nutjobs, you think he’ll believe me if I tell him I have two Grammys and a Tony?!”

“Okay, pause.” Eddie put his hand to his future self’s chest, stopping them both. “I’m gonna need you to run that by me again.”

Because no fuckin’ way, man.

Nuh-uh.

Not a chance it meant what he thought it meant.

Not him. 

Not some little rat goblin from rural Indiana.

“Two Grammys.”

Future-Eddie nodded. “Two Grammys and a Tony.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose before scoffing. “Why a Tony?”

“It’s called branching out, dude. Don’t gatekeep, it’s not a good look.”

Future-Robin grimaced from up ahead. “Sorry, he’s sensitive.”

“Yes, I’m sensitive, Rob! Lloyd Webber can suck my dick!” He grumbled and muttered in a way that was clearly supposed to be an imitation, “Not built for writing a broadway musical my asshole.”

“So…”

“So.”

“You’re… we’re like, famous?”

Future-Eddie shrugged. “Yeah. Kinda.”

“With two Grammys.”

“We would have more if we didn’t get banned.” He muttered again, clearly not supposed to be overheard.

Eddie just stared. “Dude! How the hell do you get banned from the Grammys?”

Future-Robin faltered in her steps ahead, stuttering in the middle of her answer to Robin about her work as a translator in Geneva.

His future self started to walk again, trying to brush him off. “Uh… You know what? It’s a long story, I don’t think we should-” 

Eddie caught up. “No, no. This is my potential future right? I should know, maybe I can avoid it?”

Future-Eddie raised his hand to his jaw again, almost unconsciously, like those words hit him on multiple levels.

“Some things can’t be avoided, I don’t think.” He sighed heavily. “Alright. I got outed. Publicly. It wasn’t pretty. And it wasn’t just me, my husband got outed too. We called a blackmailer's bluff and they followed through.”

Eddie shook his head, disbelieving. “They banned you because you got outed?”

“No… not exactly. Okay, listen. I was in a really dark place at the time and I was so, so angry and you know what we’re like when we’re angry. It was incredibly controversial at the time and still is, kinda. Like a black stain on the band's past but I wouldn’t take it back if I could, you understand me?

“When I wrote it I was feeling super toxic and bitter and I’m not excusing it because it was so personal but the younger generation have picked it up again and they’re seeing it like it was meant to be seen. Like it’s about having to hide and live in fear all the time and how stressful and unfair it is and-”

Eddie sped up his steps just a little so he could look at his future self. “What did you do?” 

“I…” Future-Eddie twisted at his wedding band. “I released a song called ‘Faggot’ and it’s exactly as painful as you think.”

Eddie sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Listen, I don’t really know how this whole divergent paths thing will work, how much of my life you will or won’t experience after this. But everything I went through, everything, made me who I am today. It’s going to be really hard and it really fucking sucks sometimes. But it got me my girls. It got me my husband. I wouldn’t give it up for anything, you understand me?”

He looked back down at the ground, contemplating. Even though he’d just heard of some truly awful shit that might happen to him at some point, he couldn’t help agreeing with his future self. He had the girls. They seemed happy. He had a husband and he seemed truly content with him, even if Steve’s shadow was still overhanging. But he didn’t really know that for sure. He wanted to know about who he was married to, even if he didn’t want to know who.

“Tell me about him?”

Future-Eddie’s face split into a wide grin. “I thought you’d never ask. He’s the biggest fucking dork I know. The sweetest guy in the world, kindergarten teacher, little league coach… he sees everything. Self sacrificial streak a mile wide, giving me grey hairs.” He laughed.

“Sounds like a normie.”

“The normiest. It’s adorable.”

“Eddie!” Future-Robin called, waving him over from up ahead. “I need you, c’mere.”

“That’s sweet, baby. But it would never work between us.”

She rolled her eyes. “Jesus Christ, do you have an off switch?”

Future-Eddie’s grin turned feral. “I-”

“No!” She held up her hand. “Stop. Just come here, fucking hell.”

Eddie watched his own future counterpart practically skip over to the others, throwing his arms around both Robins and Nancy while his mind spun like a record without the needle down.

Fuckin’ time travel, man. What were the odds? But what were the odds of an alternate dimension and demon bats and demon dogs and just general demon fuckery?

And he was fucking married? What the shit. Like he’d pretty much resigned himself to short term secret shameful relationships or quick encounters in whatever club bathroom he ended up at in the city.

Some kind of life of settling down, with kids no less, was not something he’d ever dare believe…

“So.”

Eddie looked over. Steve was walking beside him, staying remarkably steady despite his wounds.

“So.”

He smiled at him but it was a little strained at the edges. “You have a husband.”

“I have a husband.”

And it was only really then that it hit him. Those words. Those words felt so… fantastic to say.

It wasn’t just the fact that he’d come out.

It was the fact that the words ‘I have a husband.’ meant that he had a husband. Someone who loved him unconditionally. Someone who stuck with his eccentricities and his trash panda tendencies. His parents were a terrible example for marriage and he knew, he knew that he would never allow himself to end up that way.

So this had to be it.

This had to be real.

“I don’t think I’d mind a husband.”

Eddie stopped dead.

Steve turned to look at him, a small smirk on his face. He strode two steps in front, continuing to walk backwards, keeping pace before placing a finger under Eddie’s chin and pushing his jaw back up. He hadn’t even realised it was hanging open.

“But… but you’re…”

"Yeah, I'm attracted to girls, I can hide if I want to and have an easy life. But boys are an option for me too. Don’t tell me you think I should play it safe because society tells me to. I thought you’d be better than that.” Steve slowed to keep pace with him again, knocking him with his shoulder and the barest hint of that smug smile on his face.

“Wh- I- I am. I am better than that. I’m sorry I just didn’t expect- you don’t-”

“I don’t look queer? Or act queer?”

“No! No, I didn’t mean…”

But he did mean that. He had thought that. And his shit had now been completely rocked because of it. 

His jaw had fallen open again, he just realised. He snapped it closed and his mouth felt so fucking dry. “I think you’d make a good husband.”

“Are you asking?” Steve quirked an eyebrow at him and flashed his teeth with a grin.

Jesus H. Christ he was so pretty.

Fucking hell. Was this what it was like to be on the end of the Harrington charm? God, he was in so much trouble now. 

And Steve was still grinning at him, like a cocky little bastard. “I don’t think anyone would want me as a husband anyway.”

“I’m sorry, I’m lost. Who the fuck would ever pass you up for a husband?”

Steve shrugged, a little more subdued than he was before. Eddie only barely caught the glance in Nancy’s direction.

“Wheeler’s loss.”

“No, I mean I get it. I have a lot of baggage and I feel like these bites aren’t going to just smoothe over. What happens then? What’s my spouse gonna do with me once I don’t have my looks anymore, you know?”

“Fuck your looks man, that’s not why people get married. That’s not why I’d get married.”

“It’s why my parents got married.”

“And you wanna have a marriage like theirs?”

“No! God, no. Never.”

“Exactly. So why do you think you’d allow yourself to get tied down to someone who only cares what you look like?”

“Maybe that’s the only reason they’d have me.” Steve grinned as if what he was saying was just fact. “Like I said, I’ve got baggage.”

Eddie shook his head. “We’ve all got baggage, man. I’m not trying to like, invalidate yours or whatever, but everyone has their shit. Yeah your shit is fucking intense, I mean look around, but that won’t matter to the right person. They might have their own. Might not be alternate dimension time travel shit but could be something similar. Maybe you’ll marry a veteran or a refugee. Or maybe you’ll marry someone who’s never experienced anything worse than a paper cut and when they stub their toe they only say ‘oh dear’. Relationships… marriage is a partnership, their baggage, your baggage, it’s there to be shared. It wouldn’t matter to me. I’ll take on my husbands shit and I’ll marry a man who’ll take on mine too. I know I will. I’m sure of it.” 

Steve was staring at him like he had six heads. 

Fantastic.

After he’d just spilled himself out of his mouth and everything.

But he wasn’t gonna back down. 

It’s what he believed in his heart of hearts.

“I just-” Steve started. “I’ve never heard anyone describe it like that.”

“Like what?” To him, it just seemed like common sense. 

“Like a partnership. You know like people always say relationships are commitment and dedication and selflessness.”

“Well yeah, they are but it has to go both ways. You can’t have one side putting in all that effort.”

“Partnership.” Steve muttered quietly, considering. “It has to be equal, right?”

“Yeah, now you’re getting it. It has to be equal.”

Steve’s smile was softer now, to go right along with his eyes. “You’re gonna make someone a really good husband one day, Eddie.”

Fuck, wasn’t that just a cupids arrow straight to the heart. And now Steve was looking at him all tender and it was driving him insane.

“You gotta at least cook me a nice dinner first before asking for my hand, there, Stevie.”

Steve shrugged. “Okay. What do you like?”

“Wha- I… What do I like?”

“What do you like to eat?”

Wait.

Wait.

His mind was blank. He should really be able to improv his way out of this but his head was completely empty.

“Italian, I guess?”

Steve’s grin almost turned conspiratorial. He reached up and lightly tugged at one of Eddie’s curls. “Fuck, you’re perfect, aren’t you?”

“I’m on the run from the law at the moment, sweetheart.”

“Not for much longer if I have anything to say about it.”

They were interrupted by raised voices ahead of them. There was a brief moment of panic before he and Steve realised it was just the two time travellers bickering loudly as the trees started to thin and houses began to come into view.

“Well, why can’t we remember any of this then?” Future-Robin asked.

“Because it hasn’t happened to us in our past. It’s happening to us in our present. And their present. How can we remember something that hasn’t happened yet? Because it’s happening now. To four different people. Their timeline has already diverged from ours just by us turning up. This isn't our story anymore, it's theirs.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Future-Eddie waved his hand at her. “Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey.”

Future-Robin reached out and swatted him over the head. “You’re such a dork!”

“Hey!” He shoved her. “I only got into sci-fi because of you. Before you I was blissfully existing in a fantasy only realm.”

“Yeah.” She shoved him back. “You’re fucking welcome.”

They kept pushing and prodding at each other before it descended into chaos, devolving into some kind of childish slap war until eventually she had him in a headlock.

“Aaagh, Stevie! Help me!”

Steve just blinked at the two of them, probably trying to figure out how he was supposed to corral two adults who were nearly triple his age.

“So in the future, you and Robin seem to have some kind of… friendship?”

“Friendship?” Future-Eddie squawked. “No friendship here. She’s my soulmate by proxy. My sworn fuckin’ enemy.” From his bent over position he managed to grab her behind the knees and haul her over his shoulder.

“Barbarian!” 

“Buckley, my tabletop wife, you know I’m a bard.”

“Would you two shut the fuck up?!” Nancy hissed. “You’re gonna get us eaten.”

Future-Robin was let back onto her feet, quietly.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

It was objectively hilarious, watching two grown adults who could technically be their grandparents mutter their apologies as if they’d just been chastised by the school principal. 

It was even funnier watching them punch each other in the arm as soon as Nancy’s back was turned. 

“We’re here.” Nancy said, staring out at the houses. “C’mon.” Without a backwards glance, she took off running.

“Nan-!” Robin lowered her volume as they all chased after her. “Nancy!”

By the time Eddie and Steve had followed them through the front door, the rest of them were disappearing upstairs. 

“Why didn’t you tell us this earlier?” Nancy was asking, holding what looked like a diary.

“Would you have believed us? You need to see evidence for yourself, you know that.” His future counterpart answered.

“What did I miss?” Eddie wheezed, placing his hands on his knees. 

Fuck, he needed to give up smoking.

“It’s 1983.” Robin answered, patting his back.

“Is this more time-travel fuckery?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Future Eddie and Robin spoke at the same time.

“The Upside-Down is stuck in 1983. The day Will Byers went missing.” Nancy clarified.

“Right. Okay. 1983. Cool.” Eddie gave a thumbs up, leaning heavily against the doorframe. He glanced around. “Hey, where’s-”

He was abruptly cut off as the entire house around them shook, sending him tumbling back into the hallway. The sounds of photo frames and Nancy’s knick knacks crashing to the ground surrounded him but underneath it all his blood ran cold when he heard a pained shout from downstairs.

“Steve?!” He called out, panicked, trying to get to his feet but being defeated by his own severe lack of athleticism and the incessant shaking of the very earth beneath him.

He crawled towards the stairs, thankful that the shaking had stopped by the time he reached the first step. 

He flew down them, nearly landing square on his ass again before catching sight of Steve, leaning heavily up against the wall and clutching his sides.

“Steve! Are you okay?” There were red patches starting to bloom under the makeshift bandages around his waist and he hissed in pain, as Eddie took hold of his arms, pressing his forehead into Eddie’s shoulder.

“I just… I just need a minute.” 

There was the sound of something ripping beside him.

“Shit. Things move fast in this timeline, don’t they?”

Eddie turned his head and froze, staring wide eyed at the third figure standing next to them.

Part 1 Part 3

-

I'm thinking one more part for this auspicious anniversary/time travel fic. I'll update the posts with links and the AO3 link too.

Thanks everyone for your sweet comments and tag requests! Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. 🖤

Tags: @epiclazersharkshark, @estrellami-1, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @addelyin

[chiropter36]

Uuuurgh okay so I’m working on a follow-up to “three or more foxes form a skulk” and it’s slow-going but it IS going… and then a few nights ago as I’m laying in bed, an entire freakin’ scene forms in my head, and it’s NOT a part of what I’m working on and CAN’T be because it involves both Nine and Knucks being at a point character-development-wise that they won’t be at until AFTER that… but the scene won’t get out of my head so I’ve decided to write down a bare-bones version and hopefully this’ll satisfy my brain and I can get back to the fic I’ve actually committed to finishing.

So yada yada sometime after “three or more foxes”, something something the chaos council returns/some other threat happens, something something Nine and Knucks get split off from the others and have to take shelter somewhere, they’re out of immediate danger but are going to have to stay put for a while, whatever structure they’re hiding in gives a view of the night sky, blah blah they’ve settled in and taken care of all the practical stuff and are now sitting in half-awkward half-comfortable silence, ’cause like they’re basically friends by this point but obviously haven’t done anything silly like say that to the other’s face, then…

Knucks, staring at the night sky: “Y’know, there was a time I doubted I’d ever get to see the stars again.”

Nine is surprised and not sure how/if to respond to that, so just quietly listens as Knucks continues talking, in a tone like he’s only half-aware he’s speaking out loud, reminiscing about how his mother used to tell him old echidna stories about warriors and adventurers and beasts that were immortalized in the stars; and how even after she died when he was still young, he kept the habit most nights of picking out all the constellations she had shown him and reciting her stories in his head.

He’s quiet for a bit after this, and the Nine of only a few months previous would have easily just left it at that, but now surprises himself when he suddenly finds himself whispering:

Nine: “’Least you knew yours.”

Knucks starts, as though just remembering Nine was there, and frowns. Even though Nine has become MUCH more open with him and Rebel and the others in the months since their return to the city, it’s still very unlike him to volunteer information about his past unprompted, and this is uncharted territory for both of them.

Nine doesn’t elaborate, so after a moment Knucks tentatively decides to test the waters.

Knucks: “You ever… have anyone else? A dad, or grandparent or somethin’?”

Silence, then a single quick headshake, the minimal amount of movement to convey the answer. No elaboration seems forthcoming, and Knucks assumes the conversation is over, but then a quiet sigh reaches his ears, and:

Nine: “All I know is at least one of them was around long enough to give me a name – which I don’t use anymore, so don’t ask – then at some point left me at a group home and never came back.”

Slight pause, then he continues:

Nine: “I assume it was ‘cause of... well, the obvious…” – he parts his mechanical tails and gives the two furry ones a little wave – “But I don’t actually know for sure. The caretakers always got annoyed at me when I asked about them. Well, when I asked questions in general, but they seemed to get especially snippy on that subject. Probably mad that my parents saddled them with me, whatever their reasons. Anyway, I learned pretty quick to stop caring.”

He shrugs, trying to affect an unconcerned vibe.

Another stretch of silence as Knucks digests this information. Before he can figure out a response, Nine speaks up again:

Nine: “So… did you have a dad around? You mentioned your mom, but…”

So Knucks thinks, well, apparently we’re doing this now, and tells him that yeah, he has some memories of his father, playing with him as a puggle or smiling down at him in his mother’s pouch… but the pleasant memories are few and too soon he reaches the point where he either stops talking or delves into why all this is in past tense.

For some reason, he feels like he has to push forward in this right now.

Knucks: “I was about four or so… some bandit crew attacked the village we were stayin’ at. Pop went out to fight ’em, but they were apparently pretty tough an’ outnumbered him, so Ma left me with some friends and went to help. In the end, they fought ’em off an’ saved the village, but… Ma was the only one who came back.

“An’ she didn’t get out unscathed. One of the bandits was a platypus, see, an’ during the fight he got her with his spurs. Didn’t kill her – there were some other platypuses in the village who had some antivenom on hand – but… it did some lasting damage. So a year or so later, when she got sick...”

A brief glance at Nine tells him he doesn’t have to finish.

Another stretch of silence. Then, Nine’s voice, barely a whisper:

Nine: “Sorry.”

Knucks stares for a moment at the fox kid he once saw as nothing more than a villain to be taken down. He looks back up at the stars, his reply gruff but just as quiet.

Knucks: “Is what it is.”

Pause.

Knucks: “But for the record… same.”

Nine stares for a moment at the echidna he once saw as nothing but an aggravating foe trying to stop him from making his perfect world.

He mulls things over for another stretch of silence.

Nine: “So, I only really know about constellations in concept… What are some of them? The ones your mom told you.”

Knucks: *quiet, sad sigh* “That’s the thing… I don’t remember ’em anymore.”

He goes on to explain that when he and Rebel were trying to get the rebellion off the ground, he’d used to look up at the ceiling of whatever place they were hiding out in that night, and imagine the night sky and try to keep doing what he’d always done, pick out the constellations and tell himself his mother’s stories… but the day to day grind of life under the Chaos Council’s regime got harder, and he had more important responsibilities than making sure he kept up a childhood habit…

Knucks: “Didn’t even realize I’d fallen outta the habit, until the skies finally cleared up – thanks to your tech an’ all – and I looked up, and… I still couldn’t see any of ’em.”

And he’s sad, but also apparently just resigned to the notion that the last of his people’s stories have been lost forever because he couldn’t keep them in his head. The conversation appears to end on that depressing note…

Nine: “I think I… kinda see some kind of warrior-type figure there?” He points at a group of stars. “See, those four stars in a line, could kind of be a sword, then… I mean, if we’re being extremely generous, that cluster there could be a person wielding it or something…”

And Nine’s fumbling but genuine attempts to invent new constellations brings a small smile to Knucks’s face, and he starts joining in, and lightheartedly ribbing Nine’s ideas which gets him snarking back, and shooting ideas back and forth for stories behind the new constellations, and the scene ends with Nine sleeping comfortably with a slight smile on his face, as Knucks keeps watch, looking up at the stars with a less somber feeling in his heart than had been there since the sky had cleared.

---

Okay that’s all I got. Go, plot bunny, be free! I love you but I just need you to leave me alone for a bit.

[ochrearia]

"Bell Ringing II"

Not quite the original prompt I had in mind from last night buttttt it's something. Going around the list I guess, focusing on one or two of the BFs with YS instead of always writing stuff with absolutely everyone in it. Yeh. I like Bell Ringing II

BFs in this drabble: sfa!BF (Peacock, Shed's), S2!BF (Bee, Isaac's), Yourself (YS)

Maybe there was some merit to the whole musical emotions thing after all. Though maybe he wasn’t doing it in the same way as Biff’s girlfriend was. It was easy to just throw magic around now, projecting a song out of his head instead of wasting his phone battery. Suppose there was always something rattling around in his head, because the alternative of being alone with his thoughts was shit he didn’t want. So he was here, bed vacated in favor of the floor and his back against the wall gently. Eyes closed, song boosted by magic swirling in the air. A memory that was still entirely somber, but better than thinking about the alternative.

“I can feel your eyes staring at me.” Yourself sighed, the back of his head against the wall. Something about keeping his eyes shut was favorable when the world around him was bleak. “Suppose you may have come for some advice? I’ll have to regretfully inform you I’ve got nothing in me today.”

“Do you think advice is all you’re good for?” His question was answered with another question instead. Peacock’s voice was still new, but the other standing by was even newer. “What if we just wanted to hang out?”

“There’s always something to be seeking advice for.” YS replied simply. “People don’t just hang out with me. There’s always something to ask. People are drawn to ‘hanging out’ with me because there’s already a question on their mind.”

“I don’t think so.” Bee replied softly- that was the newest voice. Another day, another BF instance. Seeking out more selves for the feeling of acceptance from someone, anyone. Himself. “We’re all worth more than one hat trick.”

“Not much to me.” YS grumbled, lolling his head around and resting it in his drawn up knees. “There isn’t much good that I actually do. Funny how always being reminded that your existence causes damage, causes damage both ways. Though suppose I only really care about the damage I end up doing. What’s the point of me if I can’t help fix things? Take them apart more? No. I think I’d rather be useless.”

YS couldn’t see it, but Peacock and Bee exchanged looks. They were the newest additions to the ‘family’ of sorts. Truthfully, they had volunteered to come. Biff had mentioned in the group chat that something was wrong, that the tall one was losing his grip on his emotional walls because he could feel negative emotions that weren’t his. Apparently the longer any of them were around and dimension hopping, the more emotionally connected they got. It made sense that Biff was the first to know. Eventually the others started agreeing, with the last two not quite sure what they were talking about. But they were struck with a strange sense, wanting to help already without having done much talking to YS in the first place.

They picked out sides, and sat down with him. YS’s magic didn’t falter in the slightest, nor did he feel any reason to open his eyes. They were new but he didn’t have any reason to distrust them. They were in his world, anyway. Bee had been insistent on being the one to help him instead of the other way around when they first met. Peacock, with the knowledge of him from Beefer, wasn’t threatening. If he’d been any kind of supernatural being who hated angels, he would’ve done something about it by now.

“I don’t know why you guys continue to keep trying.” YS chuckled lowly. “My bad days should have never become something you all took turns helping me with. That’s not part of the plan. I am here to help everyone else. What I get up to in my own mind is the problem of no one else but me.”

“Do you not know how jarring it is to hear, well, me, say that?” Bee asked sadly. “You keep talking about how you hate to be the thing hurting the rest of us, but you’re not considering that being so hard on yourself might be hurting us too.”

“It’s hypocritical.” Peacock frowned. “I’ve talked to the other BFs a bit. They really like talking about how quick you are to make them feel better. To tell them not to be so hard on themselves, to be kind. Giving it time I’ll probably be hearing that from you too. Why do all those ideas just not apply to you?”

“My problems are mine.” YS insisted. “It’s not your jobs to listen to them.”

“Well, pardon, but it’s not your fucking job to make our problems yours either.” Rebutted Peacock. “If that’s the logic you’re going to go with then be consistent. Either no one cares or everyone’s allowed to care, and we care. You can’t change that no matter what bullshit your brain’s saying.”

Stubbornness is a universal attribute. YS thought humorously with a small shake of his head. Maybe it was pointless to argue with people who clearly suffered from selective hearing with the things he said. There were contact points on each of his shoulders, warm and soft where Peacock and Bee had decided to lean their heads. Stupid, insistent, idiot selves. If he really wanted the things he was saying, why did he keep seeking more selves out in the first place? He knew they were all eventually going to come to the same stubborn conclusion. Bites with no venom. Ideas with no merit. Hollow thoughts.

“I… guess it wouldn’t hurt for you two to stay a little longer.” YS relented, finally letting his eyes open. Bleak and dreary as it usually was, contrasted with vibrant pops of blue at the bottom of his vision.

“As if there was anything you could’ve done to make us leave before we wanted to.” Peacock snipped, undertone playful. “You can’t just show up through our mirror, show us all these other worlds exist and then expect us to go home and forget everything. That’s like being given the opportunity to see the whole universe, all those stars and places beyond imagination and then saying never mind. You’re one of those stars whether you want to believe it or not.”

Hah. A star? YS was far too cold to be a real star. He was so much closer to the ringing of a bell, somber, cold, hollow. Making itself known without giving light that a star would. He wasn’t a star. Even if he could’ve been, he’d fallen into the fate of being more of a black hole without his wings anyway.

“We’ll get you to stop selling yourself short one day.” Bee decided. He seemed soft spoken, with not many words to say to people he didn’t know very well. That was fine. Maybe that just made the words he did speak more important. “The other mes are very determined to do that already from what I’ve heard from them. Count me in too.”

“And me.” Peacock nodded softly. “Don’t know what your goal is with how many of us you’re going to go find. But you seem to be on the smarter side. You know we’re all going to decide we want to help you, right? You don’t want to help yourself. But you are helping yourself, just not the actual you. That’s where we come in.”

YS chuckled again. Talking semantics with himself was ridiculous. The way they all had to overcomplicate their speech to make anything about this make sense was always a mood lifter. Slowly, he let his arms unfold from their place around his knees, snaking around to rest over their shoulders instead. He didn’t make any moves to pull either of them closer, but it seemed like they moved on their own to do so anyway. Might as well humor them.

“Not quite the fabled YS hug I’ve been hearing so much about, but I’ll take it.” Came the tease from Peacock.

And somehow, that was the thing that managed to make YS’s concentration break. The spell he’d been keeping up to project the memory of that song dampened considerably in volume, becoming only a small background noise as he snorted out laughs. “Have you fuckers been gloating about my hugs? What the fuck?”

“The first four are, yeah.” Bee joined him in laughing. “Apparently you give hugs that are so good they won’t stop talking about it. I think you made them addicted, it’s kind of making me really curious…”

Morons, all of them. Goddamn.

(Bell Ringing II)

[progenycursed]

OHHH I LOVE PALE KING AS A CHARACTER AND I LOVE YOUR TAKE ON HIM, I AM EATING GOOD TONIGHT

If it isn't a spoiler for the comic, does he ever realise he was wrong about the vessels? And what do you think was his reasoning for escaping into the dream realm with his palace?

Thank you! I wanted a different take on his character than what I usually see. And I loved the idea of a god that doesn’t act regal because who’s going to stop him? So it’s great to hear people enjoying this hyper deep-in-denial nerd I have created. Now onto the lore dump!

I won’t say when for story reasons, but yes, he does eventually realize he was wrong about the Hollow Knight being mindless.

For the explanation for him being in the dream realm, it wouldn’t be covered in Progeny Cursed so I can let my chronic can’t-shut-the-fuck-up-itis run wild on this one.

As for why he entered his dream realm, it was his backup plan for catastrophic failure. When he realized the Hollow Knight plan wasn’t going to work, he had to come up with another way to keep his people safe. Since fully ascended higher beings can’t enter another's dream realm without them knowing and allowing it, it was his only option.

His plan was to pull all his still living citizens into his dream realm until it safe to bring them back out. But he needed to research how as he didn’t know enough about the dream realm to do such a feat. He needed time and data. His best source of information was from Unn, but even she wasn’t sure how to pull living mortals into a dream. But it was all he had to go on, so he did test after test to learn how best to do it. He learned no one who was even remotely infected could enter his dream. They had to be untouched. And he would need to pull in physical objects as well so the mortals could actually walk on something.

As the infection was getting worse, he began moving citizen to the palace. Those who had already lost their families, homes, towns were offered a safe place in the palace. Anyone willing to was allowed in as well. As being closer to him lowered the chances of them falling to the Radiance. Many in the city, especially the upper class, decided to stay in their homes.

He decided to run a larger trial on how to get people into his dream before committing to the final pull. When he ran the test, something went wrong. Instead of just the few volunteers, everyone along with the palace, was pulled in. Since it wasn’t his plan at that time to pull the entire palace in, some of it was left behind. Along with anyone or thing just outside it.

Worst of all, he pulled himself in. Without an anchor in the physical world, he couldn’t get anyone out, including himself. They were all stuck inside, and no one else could get in. Most, didn’t even know what had happened. Many thinking he had abandoned them. And all he could do was watch them all fall to Radiance from his dream realm.

But I don’t think this was his only backup plan. >:)

Has anyone ever been confused by the lore tablets in King’s Pass? When I first played the game, I thought higher beings was referring to those who had their minds given to them by the Pale Kings blessing. They became higher than animals. Then I learned that higher beings are the gods.

But then that lead to new problems. Any higher being that came from beyond the borders would know that there was a world beyond. They wouldn’t lose their mind outside of Hallownest. And the tablet about ‘only this kingdom could produce ones such as you’ would just be our right wrong. No foreign higher being would read these and believe them.

Then it clicked for me. The only group all these tablets would cover, is the vessels. They are technically higher beings so they could read these tablets. They are the only beings we have seen that can focus soul to heal. They were made within the Kingdom of Hallownest. And Ghost lost their memories beyond the borders, lost part of their mind. These tablets were made for them. And they were all trying to convince them to enter Hallownest.

Now why would the Pale King want vessels to return to Hallownest? How would he know these vessels would specifically come from the Howling Cliffs into King’s Pass? Why would he not want them to hide themselves? It’s almost like, he knew it was going to happen, and he wanted to lead them to something…

Lore Tablets referring to Higher Beings:

Higher beings these words are for you alone-

-(Kings Pass) Your strength marks you amongst us. Focus your soul and you shall achieve feats which other can only dream

->If you made it this far, you can heal by the way

-(Kings Pass) Within our lands do not hide you true form. Let all bask in you majesty, for only this kingdom could produce ones such as you

->Don’t hide your face or form. As this is the place you came from

-(Kings Pass) Beyond this point you enter that land of king and creator. Step across this threshold and obey our laws. Bear witness to the last and only civilization, the eternal Kingdom. Hallownest.

->Past here, you enter the land of the king that created you. Once you enter, obey the laws

-(Howling Cliffs) These blasted plains stretch never ending. There is no world beyond. Those foolish enough to traverse this void must pay the toll and relinquish the precious mind this kingdom grants

->There is nothing out there, to leave is to lose the mind this land gives you

-(Abyss) Our pure vessel has ascended. Beyond lies only the refuse and regret of its creation. We shall enter that place no longer

->Don’t look what’s past this door.

[klonoafan5]

Reverse AU

The Black Sun

“Testing. One, two, three. Is this on? Ah, there we go. Ahem.”

“My name is Dr. Jacob Freeman, Scientist of the White Wood Research Facility in San Dimas. I’m here in my lab to gather information on the town's strangest phenomenon. The Black Sun.”

“No one knows what it is or where it came from. For all we know, it has always been there which is why no one has really thought about it, let alone try to figure it out.”

“Which is why I volunteer to be the first. I’m going to keep an eye on it and record my findings on these tapes. That way if anyone else decides to follow my lead, they can use these as a source.”

“Or they can just call me a madman and throw them into the garbage.”

“...”

“Well, no time like the present.”

------

“Alright. I’m currently on day four.”

“The sun hasn’t moved any inch since I’ve started, but I’m not going to give up.”

“Einstein and all the other late great scientists didn’t give up on the first days and I won’t either. Some people call that stubbornness, I call it progress. Moving on.”

------

“Day Six.”

“I’ve been sitting here waiting for it to move or do something, but no dice.”

“Either this ball of…whatever it’s making of is really stubborn or just wants me to quit. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that this feels like I’m having a staring contest.”

“God, that sounds like a joke Paul would say.”

“Look who it is, everyone! It’s Dr. Freeman, ready to go on another round! Let’s wish him luck and pray that he doesn’t fail this time! Oh, who am I kidding? He won’t last the first few minutes, let alone a day! In fact, let’s get him some blankets so he can have a sleepover!”

“I despise that man. Thinks he’s so smart just because Tucker chose him as the Head Scientist. I can think of people much more suitable for the job. Like Emily or Shawn. Hell, I could’ve been  a better choice!”

“I only need one chance. One chance to show him what I’m capable of, then maybe..!”

He takes a moment to breathe.

“I’ll show him. I’ll show them all.”

------

The sound of breathing can be heard in the background. It’s slow and even. The audio begins to distort as the buzz of static seeps in.

The recording stops. And starts back up again with Jacob coming to.

“What time is it?”

“Shoot! I was asleep for that long? Did anything happen? Did the sun-”

“...No. Still there.”

He sighs, then lets out a groan.

“I can’t believe I’ve slept on the job! If Paul was here, I would never hear the end of it-!”

“...How will anyone see me as a professional if I do stupid things like this?”

“...”

“Okay. The time for moping around is over. Now, where’s that darn record..?”

He stops. “Is that...a sticky note?”

“‘Don’t close your eyes. Who knows who could be watching.’”

“I know this handwriting. I-It’s…”

“No. You’re a scientist, Jacob, not a conspiracy theorist. You have to think logically.”

“There could only be one of two things. Either a certain someone whose name I shall not mention snuck in and wrote this to mess with me. Or, against all logic and scientific reasoning, I’m sleepwalking.”

“But if that one is true, then what’s with the note? I’ve read stories about the things people do, but I’m pretty sure that writing messages isn’t one of them. Unless I happen to miss some.”

“I guess that’s one more thing to figure out then. For now, I should get some rest. God knows I need it.”

“...Why do I feel like I’m forgetting something? Ah right, the tapes. I should-”

“It’s on.”

“Why is it on?”

The faint sound of static creeps back up.

“Okay, whoever is doing this needs to stop right now. I know that pulling jokes on me is a common thing you all like to do here, but this is going too far.”

He turns the recorder off. It turns back on the moment he walks away.

“What? How?”

The static gets heavier.

“This can’t be happening. It can’t. I-I must be dreaming or…”

“I..”

“I need to go.”

-----

“Day Eleven.”

“After what happened yesterday, I’ve decided to take a break from my research and go back home to relax. Hopefully whatever is causing all these things to happen back in the lab doesn’t follow me.”

“It's nicer here. Cozier too. It even has a good view of the sky and…”

The moment he locks eyes with the sun, his body goes still. The static fades in.

“That’s right. I have a job. I must go back.”

“I’ll show them. I’ll show them all.”

The recorder stops. And comes back on with Jacob breathing heavily.

“W-What? Where?”

He looks around and sees everyone looking back at him. Emily, Shawn, and even Tucker.

“The facility? When did I..?”

His ears pick up someone groaning. He turns and sees a familiar face.

“Paul..? Oh God, what happened to you-”

“S-Stay back! Don’t come any closer!”

While Paul is being helped up from the floor by some of their coworkers, Jacob backs away and runs off, leaving the recorder and tapes behind.

[the-lonely-crow]

Celia Ripley Thoughts

ok these are some observations/theories/headcanons i have about Ms. Ripley and seeing as things have started to get Crazy on podcast i figured this was a good time to write them all down in a semi organized and coherent collection.

From her first appearance i was struck by the fact that her personality is vastly different than either Lynne Hammond or Archives!Celia. At first i thought this was because she was the Celia from the Protocol universe but as Things have happened I’m thinking actually her super perky friendly personality is not really genuine.

She knows far more than she’s letting on and has no interest in telling anyone, even Sam. She actually seems like she’s trying to keep information from Sam or at least control what information he gets and when.

In the meeting with Gerry Celia kept distracting Gerry from the questions Sam was trying to ask. She interrupted Sam twice just as he was about to ask a question to ask about first his house and then the painting. Ill get more into this in a second when i talk about my theory as to what is going on with her but mostly she just seemed excited to have met Gerry Keay and to have gotten a painting out of it.

Celia recognized Jon’s voice the first time she heard Chester read a case but just now decided to mention Jon and Martin to Sam. This goes back into me thinking that she seems to be wanting to keep information from Sam.

I think Sam really likes Celia but I don’t think Celia’s feelings are nearly as genuine for him. It is possible that I’m biased but all of her flirty interactions with him have felt stilted and a bit fake in the same way that her general bubbly personality does. Personally i think she is trying to get as much information from him before she shows any of her own cards.

I saw someone else mention this as well but Celia seems to be like the audience insert for people listening to Protocol who also listened to TMA. Not just with the information she knows but with how excited she was to meet Gerry.

Couple of theories:

I think that if you travel to at least the Protocol universe you have to kill your counterpart if you want to remain stable in the new universe. Conservation of mass and all that. We see that with Darrien he’s bene fine and taken over the other Darriens life with most people none the wiser. I think Celia didn’t kill her counterpart and that’s why she keeps getting teleported in front of cars and trains and things. We know from Anya Villette’s statement that when you travel to the Archives universe you sort of merge with your counterpart (her friends still recognized her and its not mentioned that there were two of her but her friends were “distant”) so i think the kill your double thing is specific to the Protocol universe. It’s possible that this is why she couldn’t take Jack with her if she went back because he wouldn’t have a counterpart to merge with. He just fully doesn’t exist in the other world.

I think Celia intentionally dimension hopped as a favor (as much as someone does favors for their former cult leaders) to Georgie and Melanie. This is gonna touch on my general theory for what the Archives universe looked like post 200 that i wont explain further here for sake of time. Suffice to say i think it was Bad for pretty much everyone even after everything went back to “normal”. I think the hilltop road rift was still active after everything but Georgie Melanie and Basira were too busy trying to help out as the only three people alive who didn’t just spend several months in their worst nightmares to do anything about it. This is when i think Celia, as someone with no memories of any friends or family to reconnect with, volunteered to go see what was on the other side of the rift. Before she left i think Melanie and Basira (and Georgie to a lesser extent) gave her all the information they could on the supernatural including their history with the archives and important people that might be able to help (people like Gerry Keay). I think they told her mostly to gather information and maybe look for jon and martin if she could and come back. Having jack obviously would have complicated that but i do think that’s why she’s knows this universe’s Georgie.

I think one of two things probably happened to lead her to apply at the OIAR. Either 1) she was doing her own research and got to a point where a random unconnected civilian gets to the end of their resources so went to find a place where she could have more access to information or 2) after getting to the new universe she settled down and got comfortable. Like i said I don’t think things were good in the Archives universe, I’m sure a whole new world probably would have felt like a fresh start. She had a fling, had jack, had a normal job. And then ran into something that forced her to get involved again.

Anyway am very excited to see where they go with her i think she’s neat :]

[galexiee]

Chilly night.

Hotch x Reader (anyone)

I could possibly make this another part btw hehe. hope u enjoy xx.

Word count: 1.3k

TW: physical abuse. And lovey dovey shit.

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It was a cold chilly day but the sun was beaming bright and warm. A few days ago, you had gotten dumped by your ex because they just ‘fell out of love’ but you knew it was because your job was your number one priority and they could never understand that. It was for the best though because they were starting to get a bit physical and hit you a few times. You never told the team because you they’d get involved and you didn’t need that right now. All you need though is a little compassion and you are in need to feel loved. 

“Hey y/n are you okay?” JJ asked. “Yeah of course, it’s just a bit drafty in here”. “No worries y/n, I’ll just the window” Garcia said with a smile. You smiled back as a way of thanking her. JJ nodded and proceeded to talk about the case in the round table room. We’re alongside Hotch, Rossi, Emily, Spencer, Garcia, and Morgan.  “Okay wheels up in 20” Hotch said.

We landed in Maine and a sudden burst of wind swept the team.  “Fuck its cold” Emily joked around. “Language Prentiss” Hotch said sternly. “Whoops sorry” Emily said while Morgan laughed at her. “Shut up Morgan” Emily snapped. “Prentiss?!” “Sorry Hotch”.

Throughout the investigation you noticed Hotch keeps staring at you like he’s trying to figure out what’s wrong. “Stop the profiling Hotch” I snapped without thinking. “What’s wrong y/n?” he asked sympathetically. “Nothing why?” you asked back. There was a moment of silence because he answered. “As much as you want to hide it, I know what happened. I haven’t told anyone else. I ran into y/ex/n and he told me part of it but I connected the rest.” “Hotch I need help” I pleaded. You suddenly felt a wave of relief wash over you because he was the first and only person you felt like reaching out to. “Of course I’m here to help I” Hotch got cut off as Emily and JJ walked into the conference room. “Hey Hotch, y/n, we think we have the profile ready.” JJ told us. “Okay let’s get the team together” Hotch told them. Emily and JJ walked out and you started to follow but Hotch grabbed your hand to stop you. His hands are warm which sent shivers down your spin. “Hey y/n we’ll talk later okay?”  he said with a smile. A SMILE? “Yes of course Hotch”. 

Later that night, we returned to the local hotel and started checking in.

"Sorry, team, there are only four rooms available, so you'll have to double up," the hotel manager informed us.

"Well, we know Pretty Boy will have his own room," Morgan groaned, earning a playful smirk from Reid.

"JJ and I will share," Emily quickly volunteered.

"I'll go with Rossi," Morgan chimed in, nudging Rossi playfully.

"Okay, that leaves y/n and I. Everyone, get some rest; we have a big day tomorrow," Hotch declared, shouldering not only his bag but also mine. I caught Emily's eye, and she gave me a cheeky smile.

Hotch gave me the bathroom as common courtesy while he unpacked. “The shower is free Hotch” I told him as I walked out of the bathroom.

“Since we’re going to be sharing a room why don’t you just call me Aaron?” He confessed. “Okay Aaron, the shower is free” I asked jokingly and smiled at him while he smiled back. I got a sudden jerk in my stomach. It felt a lot like butterflies. No, it can’t be butterflies, can it?

Around 20 minutes later Aaron walked out with dripping wet hair and his abs defined through his pyjama top. “It’s a bit cold tonight” I said breaking the ice a bit.

“Yeah it is, do you want to talk about it now?” Aaron asked straight away. I nodded and I moved over to his bed and sat at the end. He sat opposite to me.

“They hit me a few times. Whenever they got mad at something they’d take it out on me.” I stated. Tears started to fill my eyes. Hotch suddenly got up and grabbed a box of tissues.

“Take your time y/n”. Aaron said with a calming voice.

“I didn’t want anyone to know because I knew the team would overreact and I just didn’t want that”. 

“Fair enough y/n. Would you like me to do anything for you?” Aaron asked.

I laughed and said, “I could go for some BBQ pringles right now”. Aaron laughed as well. There was a moment where we caught each other’s eyes and felt like nothing else mattered.

“Right well I think I’m going to get some sleep. Goodnight y/n.”

“Night Aaron”.

About ten minutes later we were in our own beds and I was freezing my ass off. My teeth were shattering and my body was shaking.

“Y/n what’s up?” Aaron asked.

“I am just really cold that’s all”.

“Hold up” Aaron got out of his bed and rustled through the hotel closest and found an extra blanket. He turned the light on so he could see. He placed the blanket on me and I instantly got warm. He pulled the blanket right up so it was nearly covering my face. His hand gently grazed my cheek and we both stopped and stared into each other. 

“why don’t we sleep in the same bed? We’ll keep each other warm.” I blurted and automatically regrated it. “Sorry if that was inappropriate” I told him.

“No, it wasn’t.” Aaron insisted as he went over to turn the light off and then climbed into the other side of my bed. He scooped me into his arms and we both moved around to get comfortable.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you Aaron” I said as I looked up to him. Suddenly I felt his warm, soft lips on mine and he engulfed me into a tender kiss. I kissed him passionately and he did so back.

“Wake up y/n and hot- woah what’s happening in here” Morgan said as he was caught by surprise that Aaron and I were in the same bed and cuddling. We must of fell asleep last night. All I can remember is we made out and then called it a night.

“We were really cold last night so uh yeah” I said. It was the truth but it really didn’t feel like it was.

“mhm sure it was” Morgan laughed and walked out so we could change.

“How are you feeling today?” Aaron asked.

“Yeah I’m okay. And thanks again for last night we should defiantly bunk more together.” I joked.

“No doubt we will be. And about the other part, y/n I don’t want this to ruin our friendship but do you think we could grab dinner one night?” He anxiously said.

“Oh yeah sure” I smiled at him. He embraced me in a bear hug and then we got ready for the day.

Aaron sent me out on field work with Reid and by the time I got back I noticed a present with a card that had my name on it. 

“Ooh who is it from?” Reid asked as I opened the card. But the card only had ‘you said you could go for some’ written on it. I was confused and then opened the box to see three packs of BBQ pringles and a box of chocolates.

“Aw lucky I want some” Reid groaned and I shut the present. Aaron walked in and smiled. ‘Thank you’ I mouthed to him and he kept on smiling. Aaron pulled out his phone and my phone alerted with my text message tone.

Hotch: I hope you’re feeling okay, we’ll “talk” more tonight ;).Me: TYSM, can’t wait for the “talking” :)”.

[acourtofthought]

I've often compared Chaol & Celaena’s relationship to that of E/riel but I'd forgotten about about all the Dorian / Celaena moments. The similarities between them and E/riel are striking and I'd say that Dorian / Celaena developed a more intimate relationship than E/riel has so far.

In fact, he was so attractive that she had difficulty not thinking about how attractive he was,

She sort of wanted to kiss him.

She’d been kissed before, of course. By Sam, and often enough that she was no stranger to it. But it’d been over a year since she’d lost the assassin she’d grown up with. And even though the thought of kissing anyone else had once made her sick, when she saw Dorian …

We have physical attraction and a desire to kiss him. The first person she's been interested in since Sam.

“What is Dorian doing with her?” She shrugged. “Sparring?” “And why are they sparring?” “Because he volunteered to teach her how to fight?”

After hours of enjoying himself at the feast, Dorian entered Celaena’s rooms, not sure what, exactly, he was doing in the chambers of an assassin at two in the morning.

When they talked, as sharp as her words usually were, he felt at ease, as if he could say anything. And she must have felt the same, after she’d told him about Sam, whoever he’d been. So here he was, in the middle of the night. She flirted with him, but was it real?

We're shown that Dorian initiated spending time with Celaena, offering to help her.

“What are you doing here?” Chaol hissed softly. “What are you doing here?” Dorian countered, trying to keep his voice quiet. It was the better question, too. If Chaol spent so much time warning him about the dangers of associating with Celaena, what was he doing here in the middle of the night?

“By the Wyrd, Dorian! She’s an assassin. Please, please tell me you haven’t been here before.” Dorian couldn’t help his smirk. “I don’t even want an explanation. Just get out, you reckless idiot.

Dorian, for some reason, didn’t sleep well that night.

We have Dorian going against what he should be doing to be near her and not sleeping well.

“I intercepted Chaol, and he informed me of your ‘condition.’ You’d think a man in his position wouldn’t be so squeamish, especially after examining all of those corpses.” Celaena opened an eye and frowned as Dorian sat on her bed. “I’m in a state of absolute agony and I can’t be bothered.” “It can’t be that bad,” he said, fishing a deck of cards from his jacket. “Want to play?”

This is only a single example of the time they spent together as there are many more but he sat by her side while she was struggling with cramps and kept her company. And Dorian and Celaena actually had quite a bit in common compared to E/riel.

Dorian didn’t realize he’d been transfixed by her until she straightened and demanded, “What are you staring at?” “You’re beautiful,” Dorian said before he could think.

And he couldn’t deny that he was aching to learn what Celaena’s lips felt like, what her bare skin smelled like, how she’d react to the touch of his fingers along her body.

Physical desire on Dorian's part.

“She’s yours,” Dorian said, “if you want her.” “What shall I do with her if I’m sent back to Endovier?” “I’ll worry about that.” Celaena stroked her folded velvet-soft ears, then ventured low enough to scratch her chin. The pup’s tail wagged in earnest. Yes, there was life in her.

He gave her a priceless gift.

“I—er, I didn’t expect you to.” He blushed madly and glanced at the clock. “I have to go. I’ll see you at the ceremony—or perhaps tonight after the ball? I’ll try to get away as early as I can. Though I bet that without you there, Nehemia will probably do the same—so it won’t look so bad if I leave early, too.” She’d never seen him babble like this.

She was able to make him blush.

He shook the hair out of his face. “I’m not interested in court ladies,” he said thickly, and kissed her. His mouth was warm, and his lips were smooth, and Celaena lost all sense of time and place as she slowly kissed him back. He pulled away for a moment, looked into her eyes as they opened, and kissed her again. It was different this time—deeper, full of need. Her arms were heavy and light all at once, and the room twirled round and round. She couldn’t stop. She liked this—liked being kissed by him, liked the smell and the taste and the feel of him. His arm slipped around her waist and he held her tightly to him as his lips moved against hers. She put a hand on his shoulder, her fingers digging into the muscle that lay beneath.

After hours of kissing and talking and more kissing on her bed, Dorian had left only minutes before. She’d been tempted to ask him to stay—

They were physical together.

Celaena strode to the balcony and flung open the doors, embracing the chill air. Her hand rose to her lips and she stared up at the stars, feeling her heart grow, and grow, and grow. Dorian walked slowly back to his rooms, his heart racing. He could still feel her lips on his, smell the scent of her hair, and see the gold in her eyes flickering in the candlelight. Consequences be damned. He’d find a way to make it work; he’d find a way to be with her. He had to.

Dorian is willing to risk being with Celaena despite who he is and despite who she is.

She shifted her gaze to him. “I can’t be with you if I’m the King’s Champion.” “Of course you can. We’ll still have to keep it a secret, but—” “I have enough secrets. I don’t need another one.”

Though she wanted him, though she cared for him, she knew a lasting relationship wouldn’t end well.

“I’m the King’s Champion. Surely you realize how inappropriate it would be for me to have a relationship with a prince.”

Dorian and Celaena shared a strong physical attraction to one another. He was the first male she felt drawn to after the loss of her love. They spent time with one another, they had genuine feelings for one another, they shared similar interests, he gave her an amazing gift, he was kept up at night over thoughts of her, and he was willing to do whatever he needed to do in order to be with her. He and Celaena shared more meaningful conversations and more in general than we've ever seen E/riel share and the Az POV Chapter shows how incredibly awkward Elain and Az still are around one another.

But in the end, SJM shows us that "secret" relationships can't work. The right relationship should not be one that's hidden (which she demonstrates again with Chaol, a character who Celaena hid a large part of who she was from, also like Az with Elain) or one where someone has to sacrifice something.

When SJM says "something is wrong", she means it. She doesn't do the, "this is so wrong but I'm going to be with you anyway" trope.

How can readers not notice the parallels between Celaena’s relationships with both Dorian and Chaol and how, while Celaena wanted them both at different times and how they both wanted her, they still weren't meant to be? For as sweet and beautiful as those relationships could have been and were, they still weren't Aelins endgame?

It's absolutely insane to look at the above and refuse to accept that there is an extremely real chance E/riel will suffer the same fate as Dorian / Celaena.

And for the argument that Celaena didn't know her Mate at that time, she still chose Dorian over Chaol at first (Chaol who she actually ended up entering into a relationship with and thought she'd have a future with). And, it is understandable why Elain try resist her Mating Bond at first, just as Nesta chose to resist what she felt for Cassian.

SJM doesn't write instant love. She writes stories about characters trying to avoid their destinies, then finally making the choice to accept them. She writes stories of growth where the character finally becomes who they were meant to be and that includes eventually choosing the right person for them by the end of it.

[thymewayster]

Episode 7: The Spies...plural.

So spy number one is Elia Kane, and I’m seeing a lot of speculation on who else is the spy, given that the title of this episode is plural.

Further proof that there’s a spy within the Mandalorian ranks is that Gideon knows that Din no longer has the darksaber and Bo Katan does, even though she only acquired it from Din very recently, and only in front of other Mandalorians.

So the way I see it, the spy:

Must know that Din gave Bo Katan the darksaber

Must have some reason to work with Gideon, even if that reason is just money or blackmail (aka, Gideon has threatened to kill their family or whatever).

Let’s go over the candidates, shall we? Feel free to add/refute proof.

The Armorer

Why she’s the spy:

left before the ambush

she has horns on her helmet, and so does Gideon. (personally, I don’t get this?? tbh seems like most people think it’s her over vibes, and they don’t like her).

The horns on both helmets indicate they are probably supporters of Gar Saxon and/or Mauldalorians so they...want to destroy the rest of the Mandalorians? (I don’t get this either. Like I could buy the Armorer being Rook Kast, but what motivation does she have here??)

It was her plan to gather all the Mandalorians on Nevarro and take back Mandalore, and during the ambush Gideon makes a point of saying “Thank you for gathering all the Mandalorians in one place,” which could imply that the gathering was his plan.

shock value I guess since that twist would come out of nowhere for a lot of people

Why she’s not the spy:

She left the battle to bring wounded back to the fleet....But no one knew there were going to be survivors there? So what was her plan to leave before the ambush if they hadn’t found the survivors? Wouldn’t it have been much easier to just not volunteer to go on the mission?

The information Gideon learns from Elia Kane is that the Mandalorians, including Din Djarin, have prevented the pirates from taking over Nevarro. If the Armorer is the spy, why is Gideon learning this information from Elia Kane and not the Armorer, who obviously knows that the Mandalorians defended Nevarro since she was there?

Gideon also hired the pirates in the first place, so why would the Armorer support the defense of Nevarro if she was working for Gideon?

What motivation does she have to betray the other Mandalorians to Gideon? If it’s because she’s a cult leader who doesn’t want to lose her power, how would leading her incredibly loyal group into a trap help her keep power? If she’s a hardcore traditionalist Mandalorian, why would she help Gideon, who orchestrated the purge? I don’t think she needs money and I can’t think of what blackmail could possibly make her help him. So...no motive.

The survivors on the planet’s surface

Why one or all of them are the spies:

The audience doesn’t know them well enough to really trust or distrust them, but the other characters do trust them, and it would be a huge slap in the face to be betrayed by what they perceive as their fellow Mandalorians

How did the group survive on Mandalore all this time and not realize there was an Imperial base at the Great Forge? Where are they getting food? Are they perhaps trading Bo’s group to Gideon in exchange for their own survival?

They led the group straight to the Forge where the ambush was.

They immediately identified Bo as the leader, and probably figured out she had the darksaber by the time they reached the Forge. They could thus pass that info on to Gideon before he makes his statement at the ambush.

The wounded could be a Trojan horse—they’re not actually wounded, and the Armorer is accidentally (or purposefully I guess if she’s also a spy) bringing an assault team directly onto the ship.

Why they are not the spies:

I like the idea that some Mandalorians survived. But my feelings aren’t really proof.

It’s not really suspicious that the survivors know where the Great Forge is given its importance, and since they do say anyone who tried to explore never came back, it’s possible that they genuinely didn’t know about the Imperial base, and their group was small and sneaky enough that Gideon didn’t notice them either.

If the wounded are actually an assault team, why would Gideon send them and a fleet of TIEs? He’d blow up his own allies. (Or maybe he does plan on blowing up his own allies. He is an Imperial, after all.)

Axe Woves

Why he’s the spy:

The show has kind of portrayed him as a bit antagonistic to the other protagonists of the show

We see in his opening scene that he’s a mercenary, and the show seems to be trying to imply that this makes him...not honorable somehow?

Possibly the show is trying to imply that Axe’s loyalty is determined by credits rather than anything else.

He knows that Bo has the darksaber and could thus pass that info to Gideon.

His motive would be that he doesn’t like Bo Katan and wants her out and/or Gideon paid him money.

He left the battle before the ambush.

Why he’s not the spy:

Seems genuinely upset about the Great Forge being destroyed. Can’t see him working for Gideon, who is at least partly responsible for that.

It would kind of undermine the arc of him learning to get along with Paz.

He did leave the battle early, but Paz is the one who points out the crack in the ceiling Axe uses to escape. If this was planned, then Axe probably would’ve been the one to point it out.

If he is the spy and that’s why he left the battle early, he basically left some of his teammates to die. Which seems out of character, but then, this season hasn’t done great with character development.

Someone else on Axe Woves’s team (Koska? Someone whose name we don’t really know yet?)

Why someone else on Axe Woves’s team is the spy:

Many of the same motives I listed for Axe. Might be pure mercenary rather than loyal to other Mandalorians, might see this as a way to get rid of Bo, etc

Also knows that Bo Katan has the darksaber

Why someone else on Axe Woves’s team is not the spy:

For story purposes, it makes a lot more sense for the spy to be someone the audience actually has a name/face for so there’s more emotional impact. The only character on Woves’s team besides Woves himself that the audience knows is Koska. So I mean, maybe. (But given that the actress has expressed she’s not coming back, I’m guessing they wouldn’t give her character that pivotal a role? Or maybe she said that because Koska is the spy and will subsequently be killed next episode. Idk.)

Some of Woves’s team were part of the scouting party. So if someone on the team did betray them, they also betrayed their teammates. (I mean, if they are pure mercenary with no other loyalties than money, they might be fine with that.)

All of Axe Woves’s team (they’re all in on it):

Why the whole group are the spies:

same reasons. Don’t like Bo, do like money, know that Bo has the darksaber

Also don’t like CotW and this is a great opportunity to stick it to them

If the entire group are collectively betraying Bo and Din’s covert, then that removes the issue of giving a specific name/face to the traitor since Axe and Koska will suffice

Why the whole group are not the spies:

Some members of the team went with the scouting party. If the whole group was in on it, the ambush would have been the perfect time to reveal their true colors.

Paz Vizsla

Why he’s the spy:

Idk why he did it but since he’s in cahoots with Gideon that means he’s not actually dead he was just faking it and he’s totally alive and Ragnar’s not an orphan don’t look at me 😥

Why he’s not the spy:

This is not the way.

I’m pretty sure he’d rather die than help Gideon and, well... 

Brendol Hux:

Why he’s the spy:

“It was me. I’m the spy.” callback from the sequels that Favroni are so desperately trying to prop up with this show

Why he’s not the spy:

This is crack please don’t do this it would be SO BAD. Keep Apollo far away from this post

IG-12/Someone on Nevarro

Okay this is a bit of a stretch, but hear me out.

Why someone on Nevarro is the spy:

The Nevarro citizens are in close proximity to the Mandalorians and know that Bo Katan’s group arrived. It is possible that from watching the Mandalorians they know she is the leader and not Din, and could then pass that info on to Gideon.

OR

We know that he has spies on Nevarro at least as of season 2. Remember how mechanics (that Greef trusted, I might add) planted a tracker on the Razor Crest last season?? Do we have any reason to believe those guys aren’t still working there or that they aren’t still working for Gideon? Does Din or Greef even know that’s how Gideon found Din last season in the first place?

Gideon has used trackers to follow Din before. What if there’s one in IG-12?

Anyone on Nevarro, including those mechanics, could have possibly planted a tracker/bug in IG-12 in exchange for money.

It would be a Doylist reason why Grogu has to go with the group beyond “the cute moneymaker must be present for all plot points.” Grogu/IG-12 needs to come so the tracker can also come and Gideon would know the group was heading toward Mandalore. Grogu and IG-12 are also in close proximity to Bo Katan and if there’s any kind of listening device in there it would be easy to determine that Bo is the leader now

Imagine the angst if Grogu or Din found this out

This really wouldn’t help Din’s droid aversion, would it

Why someone on Nevarro is not the spy:

The episode is structured in such a way that Gideon gets the info from Kane before Grogu gets IG-12. It seems a stretch to think that Gideon could have gotten someone to plant a tracker so quickly.

Once again, if they’re going this route then there’s more emotional impact if the spy is someone the audience knows. And while we do know about the traitorous mechanics, I bet pretty much the entire audience forgot they existed. We don’t really know any Nevarro characters besides Greef, his droid, the teacher droid, and the Anzellans. So besides the mechanics our candidates are...

Greef Karga

Communicates regularly with the Mandalorians, probably knows that Bo is the leader.

Gideon is the one who hired the pirates that attacked Nevarro in the first place. Perhaps this is a Lando/Bespin situation and Gideon has agreed to leave Nevarro alone in exchange for Greef betraying the Mandalorians?

In fact, taking this one step further, consider that it appears Gideon planned to wipe out the entire scouting party...except for Din, Greef’s friend, who Gideon explicitly wanted taken alive. If Greef made a deal, could part of it be that Din be spared? (And presumably Grogu??)

Maybe that wine gift was laced with sleeping drugs to keep Din from going on the mission lol

Greef’s droid:

Idk the droid seems nice and like it just wants to do its job of helping Greef. And it saved Grogu from Terminator IG-11. I don’t really know enough about the droid to draw any conclusions on a motive.

Teacher droid

You leave that droid alone they’re trying their best

Anzellans:

could want revenge for Grogu’s squeezies

would be in the perfect position to plant a tracker

Anzellans are probably too cute to be evil

In conclusion...

Yeah I have no idea. My best guess is the Mandalorian survivors or my Nevarro mechanic theory.

[watchtheblog]

all hands on d*ck

as always, hello to my 9 true real life friends, some of my 22 (instagram) “close friends”, my 40 internet besties, the handful of you i was able to lure over here with a LiNk iN BiO, the growing number of [redacted] who are unnervingly conspicuous with their surveillance, maybe some other weirdos and haters!, at least 2 of my exes, my therapist if i ask her to read this to understand me better, my daughter in 14-18 years, and anyone else who is here and can read this!!

as a preface to a list of extravagant treasures i wish to receive this holiday season, i am going to tell you a little story. if you don’t care and just want to buy me a gift or just want to use this to curate yours, scroll to the bottom. there are words and jokes down there too if you’re here for all of it!!! (if you need inspiration from years past, i’ve been making this list for 10 years.)

the only times i feel safe are when i am at home, or when i am 5000 miles away from it. anything in between causes absolute chaos within my emotional microbiome.

in america, i am a sentient eggshell and all external stimuli are hammers. outside of america, i am an invincible-cartoon-fireball capable of any and all things through the EU.

once a week i volunteer, and once a month i drive 40-90 miles in one of the four directions to buy a lotto ticket at a random authorized lotto retailer (surprisingly not sponsored), and that’s it.

when i’m home, i do the same thing every day -  i wake up, i go to cult (this is what i call meditation because i’ve been doing it consistently for a year and i have no idea why), i write down everything i’m grateful for*, and i read (a literal book) for 20 minutes before performing my morning ablutions and walking downstairs to drink poison (espresso) and sit in my office tip tapping my ipad for 6-8 hours. then i watch some of the worst television you can ever imagine until it’s time to go to sleep, at which point i do a cult bonus track - it’s called “three good things”, and it’s exactly as the name implies - eat two peppermint patties v slowly, and go to sleep with my television blasting and every light on.

~ (*ok sorry for being sincere for a moment but i need to genuinely recommend the gratitude journal practice because it changed my life. thank you for only engaging with this if it aligns positively with you and excluding it from your personal dossier of me if it doesn’t. anyway, i also love cult because it allows me 30 minutes of controlled focus on every thought i have ever had in my entire life without even a single moment of peace. my inner monologue is a thought-orgy and i am merely a captive and reluctant eavesdropper.) ~

when i’m on vacation, i am a different character from white lotus every day.

this year for my birthday, i chartered a yacht off the amalfi coast (cameron) and sat on it alone for 3 days (ethan). on the 4th day, danielle arrived and we confused the crew by being on vacation together in italy but not fucking. (daphne/harper)

on the 5th day, danielle found out i don’t like music (you’ll need this information later), and on the 6th day, God created man, and one of them asked us if we’d like a massage.

being of sound mind, my first thought was to question this person (employed as a deckhand) on his ability to massage.

he assured us both that he and his fellow deckhand could “of course” massage!

having seen every episode of every franchise of below deck i was wary but i trust men intrinsically (tanya) and i love nothing more than to be consensually touched (dominic) so i said great, we’ll take two! and we settled on “in ten minutes” for the time.

he returned moments later to lead us in a troubling talk on massage logistics - namely, where the massages would take place and on what apparatus.

you, like we, may be thinking: what about a massage table on the sun deck? and that’s a great thought. however, there were no massage tables, so our two deckhand-cum-massage therapists decided they’d conduct the massages they assured us they were equipped to conduct on twin beds in one of the downstairs bedrooms.

10 minutes later we arrived to a room large enough to accommodate two adults lying down, or a small child standing up but being v still:

danielle and i pretended this was not weird (mia/lucia), and as soon as our four adult bodies were within the same energy field we all signed a spiritual contract to never speak about this again! unfortunately danielle and i signed in watercolor and have spoken about it ad nauseam every day since.

one of the guys asked what music he should put on, but before he finished the question, danielle had interrupted him in an octave i’ve never heard her voice go to utter the words “MERCEDES DOESN’T LIKE MUSIC.” … effectively solidifying our fate to have the weirdest experience of our lives in deafening silence!

without leaving the room, they told us to lie down - which we did - and they each returned to our respective sides to *SIT ON THE BED* and massage us with this australian jerk off oil while our faces were mushed sideways into a twin bed for a staggering and completely arbitrary 101 minutes.

the only time ive ever had a massage this unmethodical is every time my boyfriend wants to have sex, and the only reason this one ended was because someone came in to chastise them for being *below deck* for so long… at which point they both got up and left without saying a word!!

anyway ~ that’s how i met your mother ~ (sorry i’ve taken this out and put it back in 8 times. it stays!)

danielle and i are two asexual freaks so this (our villain origin story) never registered to us as a potentially sexual thing, but it has to a lot of people we’ve told! … and to those people i say: interesting. please consider my trauma when selecting a gift from the below list to send to me 😈 thank you!

THE LIST (disclaimer: all i want for my birthday is for everyone i love to be healthy, happy, rich and divinely protected (so far so good tbh!!!!), and for you to donate to the boys and girls club if you have the means. this is merely a list of things i think would be funny or nice or silly to receive:)

the intangible: to pass a law abolishing all waters i don’t like - there are too many to name, but at the very least let’s start with dasani, aquafina, and nestle purelife, for someone to defund Revolve and redirect the money to fund research to corroborate my theory that people who wear clothes that say “spiritual gangster” lack a functioning frontal lobe and should not have rights, for everyone who doesn’t like me to continue doing that because that must be very taxing, for prison reform that allows “love after lockup” to expand it’s filming schedule, for mary kate and olivier to reconcile (please click that link if you’re new here), for jeff bezos to give me a little something in his will, to be paid for all the vacations i’m going to go on in the future and that they never involve a massage on a twin bed.

the ones you can buy: * these gorgeous little poison cups to elevate morning beverages content. also gorgeous!! these are interesting! * i’m looking to redo my whole personality in the vein of someone’s really religious auntie. it starts in the dining room, here. for more in the collection, may i direct you here. *a stunning throw: in pink!!! or this cheaper (v reasonably priced, tbh!) one, the blush pink not that crazy pink in the larger size! * this thing for my desk. i would accept this but don’t really like the branding. * a 5 night stay at this hotel (a suite or above)

* a black birkin with gold hardware in 25 or 35. no links, iykyk * this coat in grey or camel. xs! * buy danielle’s book. (this story is not in it, but better ones are) * this tray to eat chips and peppatties in bed. this will likely be sold out but here. * i don’t want these but definitely want to make you aware gucci are selling incense for one hundred dollars, and perhaps we should collectively look into deplatforming them.

* a pair of solid gold 3 inch hoops. i have no links :( * i’d like to speak to the medium who has a show on bravo, please. this is him. i do not want to be “read” on the tv show. i do not want tickets to see his live show. i want to speak to a dead person through this man. one on one. (you can come if you organize it.) * these slippers. size 8. * this bracelet and bonus if you have a platinum amex, you get $50 back or something for shopping at saks! love to pay it forward!! * this jug of perfume for a room! * this jug for water at varying temperatures. matte black.

* this art, this art, this art, this art, or this art. i’m going to buy this for myself but i love this artist, so i’m sharing. * this alluring bookend that is on sale (x2)! * i don’t need this but i like the way it looks and so i’m passing it on. it’s a weight but who exercises at home… so it’s a hat for your floor. * trying this again: for someone to create a “the floor is lava” set for my birthday where i can do “the floor is lava” SEPARATELY with each of my 9 friends - none of whom know each other, which is intentional and by design. * these shoes. size 8 * these earrings. i tried to buy these on black friday but then i forgot. i may just buy them myself. who knows!

* a real two hour massage * caviar * i like her bc i think we have the same body * these french almond praline sugar things from provence that i bought at duty free and i’ll never find again. and i went on this website and tried to email them to ask them to send them to me (it appears they cannot do that) and i really don’t want to get into it but i spent hours trying to secure them bc they’re that good so i guess this is not an item it’s just a pass on should you ever be in provence or at an airport in france. * a $24,000 tribute to the mascot for Word.

some passing it forward gifts (things i don’t need (because i own them most likely) but they are nice!!) * these cute, non threatening pajamas * my favorite luxe, somewhat threatening pajamas * the only sheets i allow on my bed and body are pratesi but danielle bought me monogrammed pillowcases (super, binx) from here and !!!! * i think i always recommend diptyque candles but we are also a cade (you have to ask for this, they don’t keep them out 😗) household now and newly a boysmells household. * skincare is kind of a lame gift bc everyone’s skin is so different but i have the most reactive skin in the world so i’d like to pass along three of the only things that don’t ruin my life: this (i’ve been using for 3 weeks) is soooo nice, as is this which i’ve been using on and off for a month but the price point was set by the us national debt clock or something. (their instagram clickbait lip balm thing is a waste of money and yes i wasted my money!) also i love this and have used since it launched :)

ok ty for reading come again bye!

[colemonroe]

Glancing over at Nate, Cole was grateful that his brother knew him well enough to put the pieces together, keeping him from having to get into the how and why of it all– at least for right now. It went without saying that he intended to tell Nate exactly what happened, but he’d feel better doing so with some sort of plan in place. Nodding, he inhaled on his Marlboro, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Ain’t nothin’ but a pile of ashes for the stray cats to shit in now.” No, it wasn’t exactly something he needed to find amusement in right now, but he wouldn’t deny the satisfaction in it, especially after learning all he had about Dante. But in short, yes, his body had been dealt with, which was always priority number one. If nothing else, Cole knew how to make a trail go cold before it even had the chance to heat up.

“Far as I know,” he continued, following along with Nate’s train of thought. He and Sawyer had done well to keep their involvement airtight and locked down– he couldn’t imagine that anyone had identified them specifically, not when they’d taken every precaution he could think of. That was at least one positive. They could be questioned until the interrogators were blue in the face, but realistically speaking, they had nothing. Listening at the two choices Nate named, Cole scrubbed a hand down his face, not really favoring either of them. “Is there a third?” He droned, hardly resisting the urge to curse into his palm as he swiped it across his mouth. Either way, the first option felt more reckless than the second, which meant that he bent towards option number two, if only to spare those around him from even more heat than they deserved– heat that was, ultimately, his fault. “Option two, I guess,” he muttered, head shaking as a strained sigh fell from his lips, “It’s the only way we don’t risk exposure.” Coming in hot, demanding to know why they wanted Dante would only suggest that they had him to barter, and that was a risk Cole wouldn’t take, not when the people he loved were on the line.  “No one we’d need to worry about,” Cole answered, regarding who knew about Dante. “Riley knows– hence the ashes,” he supplied, shrugging a shoulder. “Taliah, too,” though he figured that should come as no surprise. Even before they’d gotten together, she still knew more about him than most. Swallowing thickly, he dusted the ash off the end of his cigarette and sighed, “And Sawyer…she was there.” It wasn’t a piece of information he’d volunteer to many people– only Nate and a select few others because protecting his half-sister was far more important to him than protecting his own hide and always would be. “Dante’s the one who shot Shep and killed Kate,” he elaborated, knowing Nate would have questions even if he didn’t voice them. “Knew the law would never make any of that right.” And so naturally, they had to, and they had. And in doing so, had opened up a trail to follow that would hopefully lead him straight to who’d killed Serkan, Dean, and Kyle. But for right now, he only wanted to tackle what was right in front of them, and that was ensuring that his half-sister never caught even a whiff of blame for Dante. Shaking his head, he looked over at Nate, his expression adamant, “Look, no matter what goes down, no one can know that Sawyer was there, or that she’s the one who pulled the trigger, a’right?” Cole started, straightening in his seat, “This can’t land at her feet.” Sawyer was a successful lawyer with an entire family that she was looking to build with a guy she’d loved for over half her life– how could Cole allow anything to derail that?

The mention of Dante Parker had Nate feeling mildly confused, momentarily wondering where the relevance was considering to him in this second, it was more or less a name pulled from thin air. Dante was missing? Why was that their problem? His first thought, one of which he keeps to himself. It's also one he finds himself gradually being able to answer the more he looked at Cole; being able to see that crack in the strength he carried. This wasn't just a man worried because of the threat shoved upon them all, there was concern deeply set within his eyes because he was the cause of it. The guy was missing? Fine. They'd work around that. It almost doesn't come as a surprise to hear that Dante was dead, it's like a part of him was expecting that. Nate doesn't respond straight away, he's silent, he's trying to think of how they now went on from here and all he wanted to do first? Cover his brother's back. He wasn't going to ask how or why because he figured if Cole wanted to share that, he would do. "Guessing his body's been dealt with?" He knew his friend wasn't careless when it came to evidence, so there was some quiet hope that there was no trace.

"So they know he's missing, just not by who..." he's talking out loud, trying to voice his thoughts so they made sense. Nate's only concern right now was the fact that not only would they have an unknown presence lingering on their backs, they'd have the cops breathing down their necks wanting answers. "From where I'm sitting there's two choices.. we find out why they want him, dangle the carrot to find out who they are," which he was sure would lead to more complications, "Or we do nothing, sit back for two days and see what happens." Neither were good options, he wasn't claiming to have a saving grace after all. They were essentially sitting ducks, they both knew that. "Anyone else know he's dead?" a question that was more important from Nate's standpoint, if anybody else knew Cole was connected, they needed to be dealt with to ensure this didn't come back around and bite him on the ass.

[runawaymarbles]

Hii!

I don’t understand what’s going on with AO3 and the election? I’ve been using it for about a year so this is all new to me! Is Tiffany getting elected actually bad?

I hate censorship, so seeing posts about them censoring stuff is concerning but idk how much truth to it there is 😳

I just want to be informed, and understand!

Hi! Welcome to AO3:)

since I'm not sure how much you know already, the background (background as interpreted by me: I am not speaking on behalf of the OTW) is: Ao3 is run by the Organization for Transformative Works (OTW), the nonprofit that also runs Fanlore and publishes Transformative Works & Cultures. Anyone who has donated $10 to the OTW in the last year, and chooses "yes I want to be a member" at checkout is an OTW member. (This is not the same as having an ao3 account.) Every year, there is an election to fill either 2 or 3 seats on the Board of Directors. OTW Members (i.e. people who donated between 7/1/21 and 6/30/22, in this case) get to vote on this.

Most of the time, this election is only really followed by people on fail_fandomanon. Sometimes, it isn't.

Things the Board of Directors does: writes posts to send out to the general public when Things Are Happening (the recent csam attacks, the requests for more antiracism measures.) Writes posts to send to volunteers when Things Are Happening (see prev.) Keeps track of what all the committees are doing and how it ties in with whatever the strategic plan says they should be doing. Deals with the IRS/US laws. Approves large funding requests. Deals with emails that someone else has deemed outside their own wheelhouse. Herds cats. Proposes priorities. Points at something shiny, pats the org on the flank, and says "walk that way, walk that way!! Come on buddy, you can do it!!". etc etc etc.

Things the Board of Directors doesn't do: unilaterally determine ao3 content policy. Let us use the word "porn" on ao3 drive merch. Make decisions that are going greatly affect other volunteers' work without input and some level of agreement from said volunteers.

Anyway. This year, one of the five candidates for the three open board seats is Tiffany G. (More information about all the candidates and their platforms is at https://elections.transformativeworks.org)

Tiffany is a tag wrangler from an unspecified country that is, from context, assumed to be China. The candidate Q&A can be read here. Her answers were a little bit confusing, but she said she wanted to update the ToS policies on 'pedophilic and illegal content' because, quote, "people think we host child porn content and such things... It might... be helpful to clarify that to the public." Further down she said:

a) I support 100% “maximum inclusiveness of content”, yet there is always a boundary to everything. Since OTW is already an influential org, we need to protect our image and hold a better image to the public. I want the public to think of us as an inclusive and socially responsible community. So in general, we have to do something to change. Things like making the rating system more specific and obvious to users will be what I want to do. b) Not really restricting the content being posted. I hope it is like more warnings and ratings for posting work so people know what to expect. And all of these are not surprising to people who do not wish to see this.

I took this to mean "she wants to clarify to outsiders that ao3 does not host csam, is not only for erotica, and update the ratings and warnings system." I don't think that those things are necessary or should be a focus of the org, which is part of why I didn't vote for her.

Other people took it to mean "Tiffany is against pornographic or underage works and wants them to be banned." Some people took this, combined with her nationality, to the conclusion of "Tiffany is a secret plant of the Chinese Communist Party who wants to join the board, get all the ao3 user data, and then have the users from mainland China arrested" (despite the fact that this is not information the board would have access to, if for no other reason than ao3 is blocked in China so anyone trying to view the site from mainland china has to use a VPN anyway.) Some people are upset that the OTW elections committee "allowed" her to run in the first place, because they think that not letting anyone with opinions the current board or elections committee didn't like is an absolutely great precedent to set.

There are a bunch of comments on tw.org, and some in fail_fandomanon, that give more context to her comments in terms of Chinese fandom (though most posters still disagree with her position.)

This got... longer than planned. But to the question "Is tiffany getting elected actually bad" - If my interpretation of her statements are correct, I think it would be annoying, because she does not have the experience I think that being on the Board requires, and focuses on priorities I disagree with. Which isn't to say she'd never have a valuable perspective or ideas about something, but there are four other candidates that I think are much better suited to it at this point in time. If the people who think she is an antishipper bent on censorship are correct, she could probably make life very annoying for the rest of the board-- but considering the rest of them are not pro-censorship, I can't see how she'd have much influence in that direction in the org as a whole.

If the people who think she's doing espionage on behalf of the CCP are correct, then... look, I can't even finish that sentence because I find the idea of the CCP deciding that a) they need to get ao3 user data and b) the way to do that is to run a clearly unqualified candidate in a public board election absurd.

the tl;dr of this tl;dr is that there's a lot of fearmongering going around, and a lot of accusations and hate (and racism. let’s be real a lot of this is racism) directed her way. I don't know her, so I don't know what her "real" opinions are, but regardless of who wins the board election, ao3 is not going to be censored any time soon.

if for no other reason than if the Abuse team was told on top of all their other work, they now had to assess and remove fics reported for being "problematic", they would say "we'd prefer not to" and then proceed to not do it.

It's awesome that people are realizing the board elections and OTW membership are a thing now, though. We kept talking about how to encourage membership, and "running a very dramatic and wanky election" did not occur to us. In retrospect, I don't know why.

[weepingvoidpenguin]

One of Your Favorites

Jealous Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have an objective. Get Rumlow to confess. Simple enough, right? No. Aside from his usual condescending attitude towards you, Bucky has made it extremely apparent that he doesn’t think you’re capable of - well, anything, but especially not handling Rumlow. And yet, he is the biggest challenge of this entire ordeal.

Warning: T R I G G E R WARNING!! ATTEMPTED SA, DRUGS, language, light smut. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT READ IF SA WILL TRIGGER YOU. 

Word Count: 8.3k

   “We have good intel stating he’s working as a double agent for HYDRA. Selling information, exploiting tactics, even going so far as to tell them where we’ll be and when.” Natasha scanned the room, making sure she had everyone’s attention during the briefing. 

   You slouched back in your swivel chair and twisted to-and-fro slightly with your hands gripping the arm rests on either side. It took all of your willpower to act engrossed in her words. And you meant every single drop. You’d been paying attention, sure, but the only issue was the dominating presence two seats to your right and directly in your line of sight to Natasha. You rolled your chair to the left to clear the path for the third time, only for him to block your way without missing a beat. The growl that left your mouth was nearly involuntary. Nearly.

   How long would this man act like a child? Despite his graceful and seemingly unsuspecting movements, you were fully aware his placement was intentional. This was not the first, nor did you doubt that it would be the last, time that Bucky acted impudently toward you. Frankly, you’d grown bored of his behavior. It was the same thing everyday. He would act a nuisance during the briefings, speak over you whenever he had the chance, steal the limelight from you and invalidate any concerns or thoughts you shared. The whole charade grew tiring and he had been dancing on thin ice for months now.

   You averted your gaze from burning holes through the freshly washed, brown locks and switched your attention back up to the redhead. Thankfully, too, because you managed to catch the end of her sentence just as she locked eyes with you.

   “And that’s why Y/N is going to be the one to extract the information from him,” she finished.

   You blinked, “Wait, what?” 

   Bucky straightened his posture and threw a quick glance your way, “Yeah, what? She’s got no heat, couldn’t toast marshmallows if we gave her all day. She shouldn’t lead this, she wouldn’t know how,”

   “Well, tonight might be a good time to start learning, then,” Steve chimed in, throwing a wink your way. You smiled and appreciated his aid, not because you needed it but because at this point, you were seething and if you opened your mouth to defend yourself this meeting would go south, quickly. Luckily, Steve always believed you were capable of a great deal of things and knew you strove for more experience so any opportunity to lead or expand was one he thought you should take. 

   “Besides,” Tony spoke up, twirling a platinum pen between his fingers from across the table, “our little double-agent has always had the hots for Y/N so unless you’re gonna be the one to bat your eyelashes at him and get him alone in a room, Mr. Barnes, we have to use his own flaws against him.” He turned to face you and held up a hand, “Not to say that liking you is a flaw, you’re great Hot-Stuff but exploiting him is our best option indefinitely,”

   “Do I have to seduce him?” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and raising a brow towards Nat, trying your damned hardest to avoid the unmistakable glare the brown-haired super soldier was sending your way. 

   “The only thing you have to do is extract any information on him that you can. Get him a little drunk, catch him in a slip-up or two, take note of any inconsistent stories and be on your merry way,” she reassured, “How you manage to do that is up to you,”

   “Ooh, extortion,” Clint chirped up from the far back corner, his hands rubbing together maliciously around an arrow he pulled from his sheathe, something you noticed he did a lot when he was uninterested; be it a person, mission, or conversation.

   “No. Not extortion,” Steve shut it down and you chuckled at how Clint’s countenance fell into one of disappointment. 

   “Not yet anyway,” Natasha mumbled and you sighed as she walked around the room and handed each of you a folder with your individual objectives inside.

   “But he’s such a pervert,” you grumbled.

   “All the easier,” 

~

   The rest of the day was drudged with Nat while she taught the pertinence of body language (both yours and theirs), verbal ruses, and overall ensnarement. You bat your eyelashes until you were certain you would catch enough wind to fly away, smirked enough that your cheeks began to ache and raised your eyebrows ‘til you felt the impending wrinkles on your forehead. By the end of the drill you weren’t sure you were even going to make it to the company party from the migraine creeping its way on.

   “How’s the bait coming along?” His voice alone caused you to roll your eyes but you paid no mind while you rubbed at your temples and stood up alongside Natasha.

   “She’s not gonna be able to lie to me any time soon but she can flirt her way to whatever she wants,”

   “Benefits of targeting a narcissistic misogynist, they don’t think anyone can fool them.” Tony belted as he sauntered into the room with strawberries, offering them out to you while he munched on one.

   “She’ll still mess it up,” Bucky countered, “Make someone else do it,”

   You plucked the fruit off Tony’s tray and examined it, trying to figure out whether you were going to consume it or use it as a weapon.

   “I really appreciate your words of encouragement, James. Unfortunately, they’re not wanted, nor are they needed.” You bit into the fruit and glided towards the door, looking over your shoulder at the super soldier, “So unless you actually have something to contribute, I suggest you stay the hell out of my way while I get the job done,”

   Nat walked out behind you and handed you a tiny, skin-colored device meant to conceal itself and you placed it in your ear. 

   “The conversation is gonna be recorded so we can catch any inconsistencies. We’ll all be able to hear what you’re saying so tread on delicate waters but don’t be afraid to shake mountains if you have to,”

   You nodded and opened your door for her to enter your room knowing she’d want to help you get ready for the event. Natasha, shocking as it turns out, enjoys company while preparing for events. She would much prefer to be surrounded by people than be alone. You never had gall to ask her why that is. Or maybe you respected her too much to ask.

   An hour had passed, maybe two, but you enjoyed the silence between you both. There was no need to fill the empty quiet when it was so comfortable and welcoming. You two spoke without words at times and that was probably your favorite personal skill. Eventually, there came a knock on your door and you opened to find Wanda with her flat iron and make-up bag in tow. It’d long since been decided that your room was the gathering center.

   Wanda helped you finish touching up your outfit and you waited on your bed while they finished getting ready. Nat occasionally quizzed you on certain situations and how you should act depending on the tones and moods of the conversation. You tried to explain that you didn’t have difficulty reading a room but Nat tested you all the same. 

   “And if he puts his hand on your thigh?” She called out from your bathroom.

   “Then he loses it,” you practically sang in response.

   You were met with a flying hairbrush and laughed at the onslaught.

   “You’re not the only one with that mentality,” Wanda called out as well, her iron glossing over thin strands of hair.

   “Nat knows I can handle myself.” You sat up on the bed and went over to your closet to collect your favorite pair of shoes to go along with the formal attire Nat selected for tonight. “What a coincidence that we happen to have a company party the same night we have to extract information,” you hollered over your shoulder, moving aside terribly worn shoes while you scoured for the pair you had in mind.

   “This objective has been in the works for weeks now,” Nat released the tendril of hair from around the barrel and pinned it to her head so it could cool.

   “Wow, thanks for the heads up, then.” You gripped the desired pair and placed them beside your nightstand for later.

   “The plan wasn’t solid until we knew for a fact that Rumlow was coming. It’s a company party so it’s not mandatory but once he heard you were making an appearance, it didn’t take very much persuading,”

   You rolled your eyes and plopped back down on your mattress, “He’s so annoying, I doubt I can hold much of a conversation with him,”

   “Take a shot or two to ease your nerves, if he sees you drinking it’ll put him at ease too. He’ll be more inclined to drink,” Natasha recommended. “But don’t act too out of character. If you were always curt and short with him and suddenly you start acting over-friendly, he may get suspicious. He’s an idiot but he’s a paranoid one,”

   You nodded, taking a mental note to have a half-empty bottle in your grasp when Rumlow arrives. If he thinks you’ve already been drinking, he might also consider catching up. 

   “Y/N? Not uptight for once?” Wanda sarcastically questioned. “I can’t picture it,”

   “Oh, fuck off,” you grumbled and in turn received laughter from the two girls. “Besides, of all of us I’m by far the least uptight. Barnes takes the cake for that one,”

   There was a beat of silence that you didn’t register before you were met with a response.

   “Ya know, he’s not as bad as you paint him out to be.” Nat unpinned the curl from her head and moved on to the next section, “He’s got some serious loyalty and always willing to volunteer first for everything,”

   You lifted your head to stare at her reflection through the mirror, “What are you talking about? He’s annoying and irate and lacks a filter,”

   “Mmm, irate isn’t the word I would use,” Wanda countered, looking over to Natasha.

   Nat shook her head in response, “I’d lean more towards . . . over-protective,” 

  “Much better,” Wanda agreed.

   You squinted your eyes at their image and felt the corners of your lips turn downwards, “Over-protective? Since when are you two defending Barnes?”

   “We’re not defending him, per say.” Wanda glanced over to Nat, “We’re just trying to give you a fresh perspective,” 

   “You could give me a brand new pair of eyes and I’d still see him the same,” you retorted, now leaning on your elbows due to the strain on your neck. 

   They ignored the comment, “And he’s only annoying to you,”

   “You’re telling me he doesn’t annoy you at all?” You asked, an eyebrow raised.

   “More like . . . he doesn’t go out of his way to mess with us.” Nat applied a nude color onto her lips.

   “So you agree that he goes out of his way to irritate me,” you stated rather than asked.

   “That’s been made very apparent,” Wanda responded. “But you have to wonder why,”

   You huffed a little and sprawled back out on the bed just to result in staring at the ceiling above. If you looked hard enough your mind would create pictures from the chaos of the cracks and shapes began to form. Sometimes, when the night lay still and life seemed to dwindle at the edges of your reality, you could swear a familiar face fashioned together and your imagination ran wild with the images you’d see. Some that brought a warmth to your cheeks even now. 

   You shot up out of bed and shook the memories from your vision. Ugh. He haunts you even when he’s not actively tormenting you. How he’s managed to crawl his way so deeply within your skin you had no idea but you fought for control of your thoughts whenever you caught them slipping into that hellhole.

   “Or slipping into euphoria,” Wanda chimed in.

   “Wanda!” You scolded, crossing your arms, “Euphoria my ass,”

   “Yeah, he thinks so too,” she continued and you chucked the abandoned hairbrush back their way. 

   “Stay out of my head,” you jokingly sniped at her but was met with a low chuckle.

   “I didn’t even have to be in your head to know what you were thinking of,” Nat defended and caught your weapon of choice.

   “Are you guys done yet?” You rolled your eyes and stretched yourself out before swiping up the pair of heels you’d chosen and sliding them onto your feet.

   “Why? Are you in a hurry to see a certain someone?” Natasha teased and Wanda let out an eruption of laughter.

   “All right, I’m done.” You made a beeline for the door and threw it open, “Lock up when you’re finished!” You bellowed over your shoulder and made your way to the top floor of the building where all the parties are typically held.

   You didn’t run into anyone on the way up and you used that time to calm yourself, prying inch by inch away from the invasive thoughts that called for you in the darkest hours of the night. But, then again, maybe those tormenting thoughts weren’t that bad? You mean, he certainly IS handsome, very much so actually. And he has the most knee-wobbling smirk you’d ever come to know, not to mention those little tricks he does with his knives always manage to entrance you. God, did he know how to use a knife. 

   On more than one occasion had you caught yourself staring at how his hands encapsulated the hilt of the blade. How they clenched and relaxed, drawing out some of the more prominent veins on one of the extremities; of course, you were even more so enticed by the hand he hid as well. You’d imagined what it felt like to have such strong hands grip onto your thighs and coax you into spreading them open with just a few teasing touches here and there. You couldn’t fathom the front you’d put up would last very long, he was stellar at pulling reactions from you. He’d see you break under his caresses and he’d degrade you like he always did but this time it’d emit a different response from you, one that made you whimper and shake. At that, he’d probably call you a good girl, he definitely seems the type to switch between degradation and praise, and would press his mouth up just where you wanted it the most. You’d try your hardest to be quiet but damn the way that tongue moved against you and the way he’d pull you harder against his face at each sound of pleasure you let slip past your lips. He’d enjoy it, too. Eyes closed as he devours you, he likes to put on a show for you to watch. Give you a memory that’ll slick your thighs later that night if he hadn’t fucked you into a coma by then. He’d make you watch him and if you dared to close your eyes you’d earn a firm, cold smack on your ass. He knows you like when he uses temperature play. He growls a little too, he can’t help his innate behavior. Then, just as the accumulation is coming to its apex he’d pull away abruptly and kiss you straight on your mouth so you can taste yourself and that’d earn him another whimper which would result in another smack that leads to that cold metal trailing its way to your core and just as he pushes the tip of his finger inside-

   You cough and straighten your posture as the elevator door opens. When had you leaned up against the back wall of the elevator? Oh Gods, you could feel the slick at the apex of your thighs and you squeezed them together as inconspicuously as you could in fear that you were producing a . . . scent that would be rather difficult to conceal. But the slick only grew worse when you locked eyes with the person stepping into the elevator.

   Fuck.

   “That’s what you chose to wear?” He asked, a certain venom in his tone that immediately calmed the ache in your heat.

   “And what would you have me wear instead, Barnes?” You quipped back, your body facing forward as he took his place beside you in the cramped space.

   There was a beat of silence. Then another. “Not that,” he responded.

   “Well I’ll make sure to ask you next time since you have such impeccable taste,” you retorted, your eyes yet to abandon the sight of the closing doors.

   You weren’t sure of all the effects of the Super Soldier Serum that had been injected into Bucky and all that it heightened but you prayed to any God that would listen that his hearing wasn’t one of those things. You were too preoccupied with attempting to settle the hot pulse beating between your legs to worry about how loud your discomfort came across.

   “What do you look so nervous about?” Bucky’s gruff voice prodded. “You can’t possibly be nervous about the mission considering how big-headed you are,”

   You took a deep, long breath and held it to soothe you. Had you not been so previously preoccupied, you’d have given him hell for the insult. “I’m not nervous about that,” you sniped and rested back against the cool wall to satiate your burning skin before lifting your gaze to him only to find him already examining you.

   “Of course not, I just said that,” he retorted, bringing a gloved hand to his face to rub along his jaw, “there’s obviously nothing for you to worry about,”

   You scoffed, “And why is that, Barnes?” Cue the dramatic crossing of your arms. 

   “You’re smarter than Rumlow and significantly better trained. Overall, he really doesn’t hold a candle to your ability,” He paused for a second, his whole frame tensing until he remembered to relax, “But that’s not really saying much considering it’s Rumlow,” 

   You hadn’t noticed you raised your eyebrows until you felt your face fall, “Ah, there he is. You had me worried there for a second, Barnes. Thought you might actually try something new and display common decency for once,”

   A corner of his mouth turned up subtly and he shook his head. You trailed your gaze down to his hidden hand and stared long enough to burn a hole through the fabric.

   “If something’s bothering you, Dollface, go ahead and speak up,” 

   You weren’t sure what possessed you to say anything, especially knowing how touchy the subject was for him but the words left your mouth anyway, “I don’t know why you insist on hiding yourself,”

   He lurched his head back, your statement seeming to have a physical affect on the man and you mentally slapped yourself for saying anything.

   “I’m not hiding myself,”

   “But you are,” you interrupted, your thoughts coming out in pools of candor, “you aren’t your hand. You aren’t your past. You are you. Presently. You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore. That’s not even the same hand you had back then. It’s not tainted and neither are you. I say drop the gloves,”

   “And why would I care about what you say?” He growled, his eyebrows furrowed together and his neck tight in potential restraint.

   The elevator dinged and you looked towards the opening doors, “You don’t have to but they don’t look right with your suit either.” You walked through the exit and sauntered over to the others who had already gotten the party started, leaving Bucky dumb-founded behind you. “I need a shot,”

   “Already ready,” Tony quipped up, holding the small glass in the air for everyone to behold before bringing his cheek to yours in mock welcoming, “This’ll up your tolerance for the next hour, try to get all your drinking done within that time-frame,”

   You pulled away with a warm smile after faux kissing his cheek, “Finally!” you displayed and threw the liquid back in one swift motion, your face scrunching together against your will.

   “Yeah, she’s got a kick to her,” he mumbled and handed you a fruity drink to chase it down with. 

   You went around and said hi to everyone as you recognized most of those present. You made small chatter with those lesser known and drank the liquid in your hand significantly quicker than you’d like to. You excused yourself after you finished the drink and walked over to the bar, scanning the room as you were handed another glass. No Rumlow in sight.

   You headed towards the foosball table and gripped the handles after setting the beverage down on the counter beside you. You flinched as a reflection of light caught your eye and at first you thought your glass was the source. Until your eyes fixated on the reflection’s actual origin. To your far right, and up a few steps you found Bucky conversing with Steve, a dull light emitting from his hand. Not a glove in sight.

   “So, where’s your boyfriend?” Sam inquired when he filled the opposing spot.

   You rolled your eyes, “Bucky’s not my boyfriend,”

   “Bucky?” Sam’s tone chirped up teasingly, a knowing look wearing on his face.

   Your grip tightened around the handles and you slowly pulled away to throw the little white ball through the circle, your hands immediately twisting the miniscule players around. Your eyes shot back and forth, your sight never leaving the darting sphere. Sam still managed to win the first point.

   “Ha!” He shouted in triumph, bringing his finger up as if to scold you, “Don’t think you got away with that comment either, Y/N,”

   “What comment?” you questioned and gulped most of your drink before slamming it back down on the table.

   You heard your earpiece come to life with quiet static and you tried to keep your face masked. Rumlow had entered. Not a surprise either, the party was finally starting to pick up now.

   Sam threw the ball in and you turned the players meticulously this time, brute strength hadn’t helped you earlier so maybe you should take it slow. Steve made his way over to the table and threw his drink back, the liquid trickling down the side of his face before he wiped it away. Sam won the second point.

   “I play winner,” Tony chimed, standing beside Steve.

   You made a point to catch up and now you two were tied at three each. 

   “Best out of five?” You proposed, quirking an eyebrow at Sam.

   “If you didn’t want to play anymore you could’ve just said that,” he teased and you smirked at him as Tony made a subtle show of handing you another drink and you finished your second. “Loser takes two shots?”

   “Deal.” You nodded, knowing you didn’t have much of a choice as a small crowd began to form around you two. Rumlow amongst them. 

   Your jaw dropped when Sam shot the ball directly into your goal as soon as he’d let the ball go.

   “What the fuck?” You shouted, “No fair! That doesn’t count!”

   Thor erupted in laughter to your right and you blinked slowly, staring at the gargantuan man. 

   “It most certainly does,” Sam shouted back, his grin practically touching his ears.

   “Sam, take it easy on her,” Bucky muttered from beside him, quickly averting his gaze from yours and his expression loosened, “The brat hates losing,”

   “Brat?” You snarled.

   Bucky took a swig of his beer, watching you the entire time and you reeled back the fire beginning to form in your chest just to bring your drink up to your lips and chug the entire thing down. You handed it over to Tony who left to replace it. 

   “Last point,” Sam stated, “It’s not too late to quit now,”

   You shook your head and blinked away the feign distortion you were supposed to have. “Just play the ball,”

   “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he teased and threw the ball in. 

   You wanted to win. Desperately. But you had a character to play tonight and she was supposed to be drunk. So you hit your hand against the corner of the table just as Sam happened to make the winning point. You grumbled and threw him a glare when Tony broke through the crowd.

   “Coming through,” he shouted, handing two small glasses to you while you gripped your knuckles in pain. “Noooo, you’re not getting out of taking these. C’mon, take your punishment,”

   “Yes, Daddy,” you grumbled and cringed at your own words when the realization hit you. Whatever. You were supposed to be drunk, anyway. 

   “Daddy?” Tony quipped and pulled the drinks back towards himself, “Maybe you should be cut off,”

   “What?” You argued, leaning slightly on the table with your hand and snatching the drinks from Tony’s hold, effectively spilling some on yourself. “See?” You lifted up the half empty shot glass, “This barely counts as a shot,”

   “I’ll get her a new one,” Rumlow offered and disappeared before anyone could argue. 

   “She really doesn’t need another-” Bucky tried to interject and take the shots from you but you twisted around and chugged down the one full glass.

   Water.

   You looked up at Tony and his smirk was barely noticeable. But you could tell. Bucky nearly ripped the other drink from you but Tony blocked his path and you exaggerated your next drink as Rumlow broke back into the crowd, shot in tow.

   “Here.” Rumlow’s calloused hand held the drink up above you and you stared at him with a questioning look. “Open,” he ordered and the fire burning in your chest fought to destroy everything in its vicinity. You bit your lip in refrain but tossed your head back and opened your mouth.

   Static broke over your earpiece. Don’t drink that! Wanda’s voice erupted.

   Your eyes widened as the liquid made its way down but you coughed hard to stop whatever you could. 

   Why? Steve’s voice came through right after.

   You choked on the liquid and shut your eyes at the way it burned its way down. You reached your hand out to grab someone’s drink to ease the burning and grasped a tall glass and tossed it back. The burning didn’t ease up and you felt a hand rest on your back.

   “Are you okay?” Rumlow’s voice rang out and your skin nearly recoiled from the contact, “How about we get you some water?”

   You looked up at him when the burning subsided minimally and nodded your head, letting him lead the way to the bar. He parted the crowd and someone took step right behind you to follow when the presence suddenly died out abruptly. You turned around to check who it had been and found no one.

   Why? Steve asked again.

   Where’s Wanda? Bruce broke through.

   You lifted your head and flitted your gaze around the room until you found the familiar Sokovian on the couch, laying down with her eyes closed. You pulled away from Rumlow but his grip on your hand tightened and his steps grew in haste. You whirled your head to yell at him but the way the room swayed with the movement cause you to shut your mouth in surprise. 

   Didn’t Tony say you would have a higher tolerance?

   “Couch...” you muttered, pointing over your shoulder just in case your target was curious enough to ask but the message was delivered.

   Rumlow hoisted you up onto the bar stool and stood on your open side, using his body to keep you from falling over. Or to cage you in.

   “I don’t feel good,” You rested an elbow on the countertop and held your head up.

   “I can’t imagine you would. You’ve been chugging those drinks like they’re water.” Despite that, Rumlow motioned to the bartender and asked for two more.

   You giggled and your head lulled forward with the action. You let Rumlow catch you from tumbling over. Why did your body feel so heavy? Not to mention the way everything around you dazed about. You couldn’t catch a single action, let alone attempt to read Rumlow’s body language. But you did happen to notice the way his eyes searched the room before coming back to you.

   “You okay?” You rested your forearm against his chest and pushed slightly to allow yourself a better view of his face.

   A small smirk, “Am I okay? What about you?”

   You smacked your lips and brought the ice cold glass to your lips. That’s not water. “I’m doing reeaalllyy good,” you drawled.

   Rumlow chuckled and pushed you deeper into the chair, “I can tell.” He took a sip, his attention never faltering from your body, “Just be sure to pace yourself from here on out,”

   You made a show of cocking your head to the side and letting a smile sprawl onto your face as you studied him. 

   “What?” he questioned, a curious lift in his brow.

   You shook your head gently and kept your gaze on him over the brim of your glass, “You’re just . . . not what I was expecting,”

   “And what were you expecting?” 

   Don’t forget to bat your eyelashes. “Worse,”

   “Sorry to disappoint,” he jeered, his attention once again cast throughout the room before centering back on you.

   You followed his action but quickly came to the conclusion that moving any pace faster than a sloth was going to make you nauseous and you could barely keep a thought together. Your stomach began to rise in your chest and the fear seized your throat shut. Why couldn’t you hold onto a thought for longer than a second? It was like you were aware of your lack of consciousness but could do nothing about it because any thought or bout of panic phased through just as soon as it arrived.

   “What are you so tense for, Rumlow? You know you’re not currently on the clock, right?” You teased, your head leaning on your shoulder as you spoke.

   He brought his drink up to his lips and finished it off in three gulps, “I’m not tense. It’s just hard to turn it off sometimes,”

   You nodded slowly and pushed your drink towards him, “Relax. You know everyone here,”

   He shook his head and placed your drink back in front of you before asking for another beer.

   “And two shots!” You shouted to the bartender, throwing two of your fingers high up and instantly regretting how fast you’d done it.

   “Are you trying to get me drunk?” He asked you, a side smirk beginning to form.

   You placed your finger over your lips and hushed, “Shh, I won’t tell if you don’t.” You dragged your lower lip down and his eyes fixated to commit the scene to memory. “Besides, I always feel dumb if I’m the only one drunk,”

   He motioned to the rest of the party, “Believe me, Sugar, you’re not the only one enjoying yourself,”

   “But are you?” 

   “Am I what?” 

   “Enjoying yourself?” 

   Your skin crawled when he placed his rough hand on your barren thigh, “Absolutely,”

   Don’t forget what you’re here for. Don’t let the objective slip. Gods, how the fuck were you supposed to retain anything when you were so sleepy? And why was it so warm?

   “Hot,” you mumbled, fishing around in your glass for an ice cube to rub on your face.

   “Thank you,”

   You threw your head back in laughter and nearly earned yourself an up-close and personal view of the floor had Rumlow not wrapped an arm around your waist and held you steady. Once he was certain you weren’t going to toss yourself onto the ground, he parted your legs and stood between them to keep you rooted to your seat.

   All the movement had you spinning and you white-knuckled Rumlow’s cotton shirt to keep yourself grounded to something, anything. Red warning lights were firing up in your chest and you tensed with the way your body buckled to the panic coursing through you. Your heart pounded in your ears and danced across your skin, lighting it on fire and making the room too stuffy to bear. Please, no. Not now. Focus. Snap out of it. Come back, stay back. Your breathing hitched and you looked down at the sensation crawling its way up higher on your thigh. Too hot. Everything was too hot, if you didn’t get out of this now you would never-

   “Vision!” You cheered, happy to see your friend.

   The presence on your thigh recoiled slightly.

   “I’m taking Wanda to her room, seems she’s had a bit too much to drink,” Vision informed and you’d only just then noticed the body in his hold.

   “Wanda!” You smiled, admiring her peaceful features as she slept in his arms. You poked at her cheek then jerked your gaze back up to Vision. “What? Wanda doesn’t drink,”

   She’s not acting, Sam’s voice erupted in your ear and you flinched at the sound. 

   Vision’s eyes went from you to Rumlow then back to you slowly, “Y/N . . . are you okay?”

   You beamed at him and slowly brought up your thumb. “Good,” you responded.

   You followed Vision’s gaze back up to Rumlow and smiled at the agent beside you. You guess he’s kind of cute. In a strange, unsettling way.

   “She’s had a lot to drink, so we’re just trying to slow down the pace. Aren’t we, Y/N?” Rumlow looked down at you.

   You nodded fervently, “Yup!” 

   Vision hesitated but knew he didn’t pose much of a threat with Wanda in his arms unconscious, so he quirked a smile and walked towards the hall.

   Someone get to Y/N, something’s not right, Vision ordered and you lifted your head up to find him. You could have sworn he just left.

   “Here.” Rumlow handed you a glass, “Drink this, it’ll cool you down,” 

   You stared at the glass in his hold and looked up at him, “You drink it first,” you slurred, holding your finger up at him.

   He cocked his head to the side but took a swig of the drink and you watched it go down his throat. You shrugged and grabbed at it.

   Do not drink that, Nat ordered from somewhere and you looked around in wonder at who she was yelling to.

   Bucky, Sit down! Steve growled.

   Like hell, responded a voice you knew all too well.

   Your smile grew and you looked through the crowd, “Bucky!” You feverishly called, completely expecting to see him before you. Rumlow’s head lifted instantly, his eyes scouring the area.

   “I’ve got this, Pretty Boy,” Tony hastily spoke, “How ya doin’, Hot Stuff?” He interrogated and you reeled at the tone.

   “Quite well, thank you,” you responded tenaciously and attempted to take a swig of the drink in your grasp.

   Tony’s hand shot out and covered the top, slamming the cup back down on the counter and effectively getting the drink all over your dress.

   “What the fuck?” You tried to shout but the words came out heavy and required too much energy to speak.

   “You’ve had enough for tonight,”

   “It’s just water,” Rumlow defended but Tony paid him no mind.

   Your jaw dropped open and you glared at the older man. Who the hell did he think he was? Tony’s stare burned through your skull and despite your irritation, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was so pissed.

   “Are you mad at me?” You drawled, lulling your head to the side.

   “No,” he responded curtly. 

   “Am I being too loud or something?” You pushed. You couldn’t imagine you were any louder than any other drunken bastard at this party.

   “No,”

   Get her out of there or I swear to God I will, his voice hissed into your ear.

   Your eyebrows rose slightly in excitement, “Mmm, Bucky,” you smiled and Tony nodded.

   “’Mmm, Bucky’ is right. Wanna go see him?” Tony offered, sticking out his hand for you to take.

   You fell forward into Rumlow’s chest but shook your head furiously none the less, “For what? So he can tell me I’m horrendous at my-”

   Oh shit. Your job. The job.

   If only your body didn’t feel so heavy and your mind so light.

   You pushed off Rumlow’s chest and glared at Tony, “I can handle myself,” you insisted, a new sort of sober tone making its way through that caused him to do a once-over. “I know what I’m doing,”

   “How many drinks have you had?” Tony challenged and you fell silent.

   Then you felt a tap, and another and a few more.

   “Six,” You said, hoping you’d counted right.

   Tony, don’t you even fucking consider it, Bucky threatened.

   “You could at least change, recuperate and then come back,” Tony offered and you sighed a breath of relief before nodding.

   “Deal,” you agreed, “I’m hot anyway,”

   Tony gave you one last glance before turning around and blending into the crowd on the other end of the room.

   You looked up to Rumlow who’s gaze was still locked on the sea of people, “Don’t you wish you’d taken that shot now?” you tried to jeer, every last word bringing you deeper and deeper.

   “Are they always that intense?” He questioned, not turning his attention to you.

   “They can be over-bearing,” you admitted, hand grabbing the water from earlier and pressing it up against your forehead, “They consider me the baby so they’re always criticizing and suffocating until I just wished they’d disappear.” You took a gulp, “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the family and I like that I have a cause but . . . they don’t let me do anything. It’s exhausting,”

   You let out a long breath and smeared the condensation from the glass onto your chest. Rumlow studied you then, not just your body but your reaction. He was watching how you dropped your shoulders at the confession and how you faced your back to them to block them out. 

   You plastered your torso on the countertop and tried to slow your heartrate down. You couldn’t be the only one here unfathomably hot.

   “Why is it so fucking hot?” You questioned, fanning yourself weakly.

   “There are a lot of people around,” Rumlow offered, “how about we go somewhere else? Tony did say you had to change,”

   You peered up at him through half-lidded eyes and meekly groaned in compliance. “Fine,”

   You lifted yourself away from the counter and gently placed your feet on the floor. You’d touched the ground faster than anticipated. Had the ground always been so close?

   “Don’t worry, I gotcha.” Rumlow threw an arm around your waist and helped you trudge towards the elevator.

   Where the hell are you going? Bucky yelled and the sound of shuffling could be heard from his end.

   We can’t let you leave with Rumlow, Y/N. We’re not even sure you’re acting anymore, Sam stated.

   Rumlow pressed the button when you couldn’t muster the strength to do it yourself. The level that your room was on lit up and the doors began closing. You thought you saw Rumlow wave at someone but the mock smile on his face didn’t make it seem like a warm good-bye.

   Your legs had all but given out by the time the elevator reached your shared floor. 

   “Heavy,” you muttered, letting Rumlow carry your weight fully.

   “I know, Sugar. We’re almost there,” he soothed and you conceded to the fatigue wearing you down.

   Your head hung low and your arm dangled uselessly at your side. The familiar sound of your door sliding open caught your attention but you did nothing. You couldn’t. 

   “How . . . know . . . my room?” You questioned, each word causing you to pull from an empty well of energy.

   “I’ve been here before.” Rumlow tossed you onto the bed and sprawled you out.

   “Oh. Ok.” You tried to turn on to your side but strong hands gripped down onto your ankles.

   Rumlow sighed and slipped the heels off your feet, examining the pair like he wanted to wear them. You extended your feet until you felt every muscle in your leg stretch to its capacity and let out a groan of pleasure at the release. Those shoes hurt so bad.

   “You seem . . . intelligent, Y/N.” Rumlow dropped your shoes onto the floor and slithered to the side of your bed, standing beside it with his hands tucked into his pockets.

   A bead of sweat trickled down your forehead, “Hot . . .” you croaked and he nodded.

   “You’re right. It is getting kind of hot.” He brought a hand up to his neck and ripped off the tie hanging around it.

   Get the fuck out of my way, a growl erupted in your ear.

   We’re going with you, Buck, Steve responded before knocking something over.

   “So, what I have a hard time understanding is. . . why you’re here?” 

   You groaned a weak ‘huh’ but even that didn’t sound right.

   “You’re good at what you do, you finish every mission successfully and yet you’re underappreciated.” He took a seat at the foot of your bed and placed one of your legs into his lap, “Why do you allow them to treat you like that? We wouldn’t,”

   The shuffling in your earpiece halted.

   “We?” 

   He began to massage your calf and brought your knee up to his lips, peppering light kisses on it. “We could use someone with your skillset, babe. We’d take real good care of you,”

   The shuffling started again.

   Rumlow had made his way onto your thigh at this point and you let out an involuntary moan when he skimmed over a delicate part on your inner knee.

   “Ya like that?” he questioned but didn’t wait for a response. He brought a hand up to his temple and grabbed the earpiece. You figured he just hadn’t taken it out from his earlier shift but when he pulled it apart, you understood why he always kept it on him.

   “Flash . . . drive earpiece?” Your weak tone tilted a little. “W-why tell . . .”

   “I figured I’d give you the option to leave since you seem so . . . suffocated. If you said yes tonight then I would remind you tomorrow. If you didn’t,” he chuckled, “well, you wouldn’t remember anyway.” His hands trailed to your mid-thigh and you squeaked. “I’m impressed though, I’ve never given anyone else as much as I’ve given you tonight. The drug usually works so quickly on others, but not you. It’s kind of hot, actually,”

   Sick fuck, Natasha growled through a ragged breath.

   The world around you was slow or maybe it was you that was slow? You couldn’t tell, honestly. But when Rumlow moved as if he could predict your actions before you could make them, you wondered whether you were moving at all.

   “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon,” Rumlow sighed.

   You shook your head, or thought you did but despite the way your body was live-wired, it remained still against all desire. 

   Fight. Move. 

   You managed to push your legs shut but his hand slithered between and spread them open similar to opening a door, but this required much less force.

   “Kill,” You threatened and the sinister smile that crawled its way onto Rumlow’s face was vile enough to sink your heart into your stomach.

   “Kill is fucking right.” Someone snarled and your door was ripped from its hinges.

   Rumlow’s hand jerked away from your body and Bucky seized his open palm, intertwining their fingers and pushing Rumlow’s so far back that they touched the back of his own hand. The cracks were sickening onto themselves but had you not been so weak you would’ve turned from the sight altogether. You really couldn’t fathom how his fingers were still attached at all.

   “Lay another hand on her and you won’t be able to use it again.” Bucky spit.

   Despite Rumlow’s pain, the sinister smile remained sprawled on his face, “You should’ve heard the noises she made,”

   Bucky’s grip tightened and the bones in his palm broke next, “I did,”

   Natasha flew in right behind Barnes but completely dismissed the two and headed straight for you with a needle in hand. Your eyes shifted from the needle to Nat’s face and back again until she stabbed it into your upper arm. Ouch. 

   “Wha-”

   “Shh,” Natasha hastily hushed, “Keep your strength, you should be back to normal soon,”

   Steve came behind Nat and scooped you up to lead you out of the havoc going on in the room. Nat turned her focus to Bucky and reached over to grab the earpiece from Rumlow. Who knows if his nose will ever heal back normally. You held one finger in the air as Steve stepped over the splintered door.

   “Goddamit, Y/N,” Steve huffed, jogging towards the elevator and pressing the floor that led to the infirmary.

   “We won,” you croaked out, a small smile on your face and Steve shook his head.

   “I’m never going to hear the end of this,” 

   Steve looked you up and down for bruises but couldn’t find any and you promised you weren’t lying to him when you told him Rumlow did not get very far in his ‘advances’ at all. You had to swear the mid-thigh was the worst that it came to. 

   Bruce was the one that took a few blood samples and made sure everything was reversing back to normal. Apparently, as soon as Rumlow took you to the bar Tony handed Banner the shot glass that Rumlow gave you and Banner ran analysis on it. The cure was pretty easy to find.

   After being given strict orders to lie down for the next hour or so, it had been decided that Rumlow was to be turned in considering all the evidence required to make the arrest was in the flashdrive and everyone was to gather together for a ‘family night’. Whatever the hell that meant.

   You were in the middle of debating which movie to pick with Steve when the infirmary doors flew open.

   “Where is she?” Bucky nearly shouted upon seeing Bruce.

   “That’s my cue.” Steve stood up just as Bucky rounded the corner, “If you need anything me and Banner will be right over there,”

   You smiled and thanked him then turned your attention to the super-soldier who just arrived at the foot of your bed.

   He didn’t say anything for a while, just looked at you. No, not really. Not at you but through you. A few painstakingly slow seconds went by that way.

   “You owe me a new door,” you joked, a half-smile on your face.

   “Are you okay?” He asked, finally registering your presence.

   You nodded slowly, “I am,”

   Then a few more seconds.

   Bucky turned his gaze down to his hands, both of them barren and on display for the world to see, before shifting his weight between either foot, “Did he- did he touch you?”

   “Not really. Just really liked my legs for some reason,” your attempt at another quip didn’t reach Bucky. He stared back up at you waiting for an answer, an honest one. You sighed, “The damage is more mental,” you admitted, now you were the one not able to look up, “I didn’t like being in this altered state of mind. It’s invasive and . . . scary. He could’ve done things, much worse things but it never got that far or that bad. It was more realizing that I wasn’t completely conscious or present and having that state of mind be taken advantage of, that mostly frightened me. Ya know?”

   “More than anyone,” he answered immediately.

   You looked back up towards him, finally making eye contact, “But I’m fine now, really. Just a little spooked. Steve wants to do a movie night tonight and I would actually prefer that over being alone.” Your eyes fixated on the way his hands clenched and unclenched on the bar by your feet, “If I’m alone then I’ll get stuck in my head about it. Besides, I consider this a hard victory with a few bumps in the road,” 

   He chuckled, lulling his head a bit, “You’re too stubborn for your own good,”

   You shrugged, “Maybe. How’s Rumlow?”

   Bucky hissed and moved over to the side of the bed where he took a seat, “He’s unconscious. And has a hand that he’ll never be able to use again. But other than that, he’s fine,”

   You chuckled and Bucky watched how the laugh met your eyes. He liked that look on you. It was one of his favorites.

   “Why are you looking at me like that?” You questioned once it fell silent between you two again.

   “You called me Bucky earlier,” he remembered.

   You scoffed, “I call you Bucky all the time,”

   “Not to my face,”

   “Not to your face,” you agreed, a teasing smile dancing on your lips and Bucky had one that mirrored yours. 

   “It was nice. Hearing it, I mean,” he admitted and a wave of warmth made its way to your face.

   “I see your hands are exposed,”

   He looked down as though he weren’t aware that he’d taken off his own gloves, “These bad boys? A friend of mine reminded me that I’m not my past. I’m my present. Why hide my growth?”

   You twiddled your thumbs together, “She sounds smart,”

   Now he scoffed, “Oh, it wasn’t a girl, it was some old buddy of mine.” He quirked up a brow, “Unless the person being a girl would make you jealous because in that case it was most definitely a girl,”

   You fought against the natural tug at the corners of your mouth, “Is she at least pretty?”

   “Stunning,” 

   “Smart?”

   “Genius,”

   “Good at her job?”

   “Amongst the best,”

   “Then consider me jealous, Barnes,”

   Bucky chuckled and you watched how the laugh met his eyes. You liked that look on him. It was one of your favorites.

[nostalgicatsea]

The second episode of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier showed Bucky's white privilege, and I hope people acknowledge rather than ignore it just because it’s uncomfortable. I’ve already seen people do that or worse as mentioned in my previous post. 

Bucky is a great example that it’s not only evil people or people we dislike but also good people—people we count as allies or even friends—who benefit from whiteness. I would rather have that instead of some sanitized “woke ally” Bucky who can never do wrong. Bucky is human and like everyone else, he has room to learn and grow. That's better than insisting he would be woke about everything. 

Just by existing, both Sam and Bucky are affected by systemic racism. Sam is oppressed and Bucky benefits, however passively or actively. We see that play out in several ways with Bucky this episode because he:

doesn't understand the situation with the cops and even though you can talk about the way that Bucky is treated by the government and law enforcement, you can't ignore how the cops gently guide him into the car and treat him with respect, apologizing, calling him "Mr. Barnes," and showing how reluctant they are to take him in 

berates Sam for Sam's decision to give up the shield when, as Sam says, he has no right to tell Sam what he should do and neither Bucky nor Steve would understand

doesn't, in fact, get Sam's decision and makes the situation about Steve and himself. Is it understandable that he does? Yes. Does it change the fact that he makes it about himself rather than think about Sam's position? No

totally misreads how Sam would feel about seeing Isaiah or how it would affect Isaiah to talk about his trauma

most likely didn't consider the possibility that Isaiah is a victim of the government, not just a man affected by war or his time as a supersoldier

got therapy and a nice enough apartment unlike Isaiah who didn't get any help or any apology or redress for the wrongs committed against him: being experimented on, imprisoned for three decades, and exploited and harmed by both the U.S. government and Hydra throughout those years

Bucky wasn't intentionally being ignorant or trying to hurt anyone, but it doesn't matter. It's because of his white privilege that he's afforded better treatment than Sam and Isaiah. It's because of his white privilege that he has never had to think about what it's like to be them. He doesn't read the situation with the cops properly, and if his and Sam's situations were reversed, Sam most likely would have been assaulted or shot and killed at worst or roughly manhandled at best. He wrongly assumed that it wouldn’t bother Sam to meet Isaiah or thought it would only make him uncomfortable, probably no more uncomfortable than Bucky was about Isaiah’s situation. (Why he thinks talking to Isaiah will help, I don’t understand. It's not like Isaiah would have information about supersoldiers that Bucky, a supersoldier himself, wouldn't or information about the Flag Smashers. That group appeared recently. The Korean War was 70–73 years ago, and most likely Isaiah got out of prison in the ‘80s or ‘90s, depending on how long he was active after the war, decades before 2023.)

It all backfires because Bucky didn't know what happened to Isaiah. He vaguely knew that Isaiah had a rough time but didn't know the details; you can tell he didn’t by how he reacts to Isaiah's story. He didn't think of asking Isaiah how he got his powers and what happened to him after the war before showing up at his house. 

Bucky made huge assumptions that ended up hurting Isaiah and Sam, good intentions or not, and in my opinion, that naïveté and ignorance stem from white privilege. He probably assumed that Isaiah volunteered to get the serum and it worked out because Isaiah was a good person and the U.S. were the "good guys" in the war. They weren't Hydra, and Isaiah was a U.S. soldier who fought against him when he was the Winter Soldier. It never crossed his mind that Isaiah's situation could have been drastically different from Steve's situation and that the U.S. government could have abused and abandoned a hero like Isaiah so badly. 

Although this is a big extrapolation on my part, I don't think it's that much of a stretch to say. Had Bucky thought this was the case, I find it extremely unlikely that he would have brought Sam there or wanted to bother Isaiah, at least without advance warning. If anything, as @fahbee​ mentioned in their reblog of the original, unedited version of this post, he might have looked at the gap in Isaiah’s life when he was in prison and assumed that Hydra or some other evil entity had captured and held Isaiah as a POW during that time. That is, if there was a gap; that’s plausible, but it’s also plausible that Isaiah was imprisoned under false charges and those charges appear on his record. The government has done that and still does that to many black people in real life. Either way, Bucky never would have thought that the U.S. government was responsible for Isaiah’s suffering.

Meanwhile, even though Sam is shaken to discover that a black supersoldier existed decades ago, I don't think he finds what happened to Isaiah surprising. Consider his reaction to Bucky’s when Isaiah tells them what happened and the fact that the U.S. has a history of experimenting on, exploiting, and abusing black men. Sam sees what the U.S. government did to a black man they experimented on and used, and he's broken over Isaiah...and for himself. 

Isaiah is the living embodiment of Sam's conflicted feelings about the U.S. and the Captain America title. Who's to say that that won't be Sam too when they don't want or need him anymore? How can Sam be the symbol of a country who has harmed and continues to harm people like him? There's so much grief, pain, and anger there versus Bucky's cluelessness. Even after their meeting with Isaiah when he and Sam are in the therapy session together, Bucky doesn't connect the dots or understand Sam's feelings and inner turmoil at all. 

As I said, I love how they included Bucky's white privilege because sometimes, it's not always as obvious as a white banker refusing to give a black family a loan or cops treating an innocent black man as a threat and escalating the situation (though sadly, some people have managed to miss even these overt examples of racism). Sometimes it's what I said above. I would rather see Bucky learn and grapple with racism and white privilege than see performative wokeness or an innate, intuitive understanding of racism in all its forms. 

How Bucky moves in the world is different from how Sam does, and it serves as another way to demonstrate how Sam is very much black in this universe. That's why you can't ignore, minimize, or attempt to change (do NOT give me what-if scenarios about Bucky being a white ally) Bucky's actions and thoughts as well as how the world treats him because The Falcon and the Winter Soldier is very much a series about what it means to be black in America and what it means for Sam, a black man, to become Captain America.