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starberry-cupcake · 6 years ago

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your tags make me worry. did lapidot become canon behind my back?

I also received a reply about this so I’m answering both things under read more because the su fandom scares me a lot lol

count-di-luna replied to your post “Reblog and put in the tags something seemingly everyone in your fandom…”

this! Peridot has way better chemistry with Amethyst anyway and Lapis just needs her space

First, I don’t know if they’re “canon” but it’s very heavily implied in the show that there’s something going on between them that’s more romantic than not, for what it seems like to me. The way in which their relationship is shown isn’t in the same way as the relationships of other characters that don’t have romantic relationships, so I don’t know what to tell you.

I’ve been told about some “behind the scenes” reasons why this was, I don’t wanna delve into any of that because I care about what the story depicts in this instance, so I’m leaving all “behind the scenes” reasons the crewniverse may have aside. As for the “behind my back” part, probably, since we haven’t seen the development of their relationship kind of at all, aside from when there’s some conflict Steven needs to get in between, so if it’s happening, it’s going on behind all of our backs.

When it comes to the comparative aspects with other ships, I don’t really have much opinion on the majority of fanon SU ships, it’s not something I’ve ever been much involved in, so I can’t really say what ship is better or not.

What I wanted to focus on for my tags, what really makes me a bit uncomfortable when it comes to Lapis and the way the fandom sees her, is that a lot of the things that are criticized about her come from writing problems, which is not to diss the crewniverse because SU is fantastic and I love it, but I do feel Lapis hasn’t been handled well as of late.

I feel like her whole reaction when she left and took the barn would have been taken less harshly by fandom had it not been at the expense of a relationship that had little to no development in-show and that was with a fan favorite character that everyone loves. It wasn’t so much Lapis’s reaction and her choice of leaving what made fandom react like they did but the way in which she left Peridot, which represented a state in a relationship we never saw them arrive at because they were always off-camera.

Lapis has had too much trauma related to other people exercising choices for her for me to be comfortable with her having a relationship so soon with someone who had her as a prisoner before, someone who was Jasper’s second in command in the ship she was kept in. Which hey, I’m totally cool with redemption arcs and I feel Peridot evolved and learned maybe more than most characters on the show, I’m not saying Peridot is the same she was or that she doesn’t deserve to be trusted, she absolutely does, but making it romantic in such a short period of time and WITHOUT SHOWING IT ON SCREEN is too much believability to ask for me tbh.

I wish Lapis’s arc had centered on her recovery and her healing without having to compromise her decisions to romantic relationships. I wish we had taken more time to develop her trauma in a way that makes more sense to the plot, because I hate when people say they’re tired of her whining or they hate her for not fighting.

Lapis represents a very important part of war, she is, from the group of Gems, the one who was most affected by BOTH SIDES of the fight. She was a war prisoner and considered an enemy by BOTH the Diamonds and the Crystal Gems and, as such, was imprisoned for so long, until Steven listened to her.

She then decided to imprison herself AGAIN to save the one person who had shown her kindness, because it was the only way she felt she could. And when confronted with that, she was manipulated into thinking that it was only with someone toxic, with someone who wanted to use her at the time, how she could have any value.

Lapis deciding not to fight is a valid, important and realistic part of war. She is a victim who was once and again mistreated by EVERY SIDE of it. It’s understandable that she’d want to flee and it’s powerful that she not only came back but used her sadness and her scars as a way of facing a major enemy. She had felt worse.

She was a prisoner of war, a survivor of abuse and was banished from every place she knew. She had no home, not in Homeworld, not on Earth, and it’s understandable and valid that someone who was faced with this past would choose to not stand for people who let her down.

It is, however, understandable that she would come back and fight for Steven, because he is the character Lapis was shown to have a trusting friendship with. Steven was the one who listened, cared and healed her, he is the one who offered her a home and, most importantly, the one who, no questions asked, respected her decision to leave without pressuring her into staying to fight a war that had destroyed her. This is a friendship the show took time to show me and develop, Lapis caring for Steven like an older sister, more so than a mother figure, as most of the other gems are (there’s a parallel dissertation here between Steven’s mother figures when he has never had a present mother, but that’s another subject matter entirely). I didn’t need from Lapis more than this pure friendship, a sibling sort of bond.

So, when it comes to this friendship, the conflict of Lapis leaving and then coming back makes narrative sense. The strain of the decision and of Steven’s understanding of her leaving have implications that are easy to understand because we’ve seen the friendship develop.

When it comes to Peridot, I was lost. I didn’t understand where this strong emotional bond had formed and how, when the episodes they had together didn’t quite showcase a development aside from “they’re getting along better”. Added to that, their personalities don’t really fit in a way in which you could fill in the blanks easily, because Lapis is a complicated character that tends to be unpredictable with others, because of her long isolation.

It isn’t that a romantic relationship wouldn’t be possible or that it takes away from her character, it’s that it gives a layer on her decisions that makes her choices questionable in the audience’s standpoint, because you don’t know what’s going on between them but you’re gonna root for Peridot because she’s the easily likeable one of the two and because she’s staying to fight.

It stops being about trauma, war and fear and starts being about the betrayal of someone’s trust. It undermines the importance of a character like Lapis, imo, when the conflict of her choices is transformed into a romantic issue where clearly Peridot will be the favorite to be on the “right”, because as a viewer with nothing to lose it’s easier to understand that fighting is the “right thing to do”. It’s easy to have an opinion on war and political strife when it’s about fictional characters in a fictional world, it’s easy to say “the right thing is to be brave and fight the authority”, but within that situation, it wouldn’t be that easy.

So, basically, my problem, all shipping preferences aside, is that, for a show that is otherwise amazingly written and planned out to the t, this whole situation seems shoehorned and strained and causes fans to turn on a character whose representation of trauma, ptsd and past abuse should be something to understand more.

Again, this is not to hate on the crewniverse (past or present) at all, it’s their story to tell and I’m grateful to be able to hear it, this is just my opinion as an adult with access to the internet and nothing better to do at the time, so my opinion isn’t worth a damn. They did their best and chose to tell this story and that’s ok. I heard that some people have been rather aggressive to some of the crew for this before and I wouldn’t dream on doing that at all, so please let’s not do any of that.

#destapé una olla que no sé si debería haber destapado #ask #anon #anonymous #count-di-luna #reply #long post when expanded #Anonymous #please take all my opinions with a bucket of salt #and please don't hate on the crew past or present at all #if this in any way gets me angry mobs again #i'm gonna delete it #so read it while you can to those who messaged me

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messier-47 · 2 years ago

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tobirama going for butsuma's throat is expected. the old bastard still being ALIVE in the first place is not !! somebody come put him down! think of it like a horse! hashirama please stop preaching i know youre charismatic but please your brother is immune to your talk-no-jutsu. also who cares if the plan DIDNT HAPPEN???? butsuma PLANNED to do it! what if it HAD happened???? tobirama doesnt need to put aside his hatred for anyone. he should take his bamboo hat and leave this dump

Oh absolutely he leaves that dump, have you seen Konoha lately?

infrastructure wise, it's like if there were 3 different cities being built. there's about a dozen different city planners tryna talk over one another. Ninja still running in and out of the hokage tower unsure who to report to other than the Hokage, and don't even get me started on the woes of the noncombatants.

There's no equal resources. Entire neighborhoods would be built without a grocery store or a restaurant to proved prepared meals for those that don't have the means to cook for themselves. People in need of water for their job have the hike across the entire village to get 2 buckets. There's no organization of what people do outside of what their Clan Head dictates, which means shinobi children are either being told to train by themselves or thrown into the chaotic mess of trying to help build a village with no overseer.

and my poor little meow meow Madara is just trying his best to hold it all together.

It's his dream for Konoha to work, for a village to provide a space where shinobi didn't have to fight, where children could choose their careers, where the worry of war is no longer on their doorstep so while he's not exacly happy with the backbreaking work he has to put in to get shit down, he doesn't dare complain.

Oh he needles Hashirama to do his share but he's not a fucking babysitter, he can't be wasting time hunting down his idiot friend when he could be using that time going over more paperwork and projects. And honestly, he shouldn't have to be a babysitter. Hashirama is a grown ass adult and if the adult is irresponsible then that's their own flaw that they need to deal with, not coddled and permissed by those around him or by provided crutches. (ops, let my own bias leak right there)

Tobirama came and went. Madara just shrugged his shoulders cause it was kinda obvious that the pale man had his own life and worries to think about and wasn't gonna take up the mantle of being a Senju once again (he still wore that bamboo hat! it's kinda obvious!). Madara just needed to get back to work and in the weeks that follow he'll admit it's a relief to have the merchants on hand to provide provisions and resources but there's still a fuckton of work on his desk.

And then he gets a letter.

Non-descript, addressed to him as co-Hokage and not as the Uchiha Clan Head or something more personal. MAdara even put th letter to the side in favor or 'more important matters' only opening the scroll when he was taking his alotted break over a cup of tea.

Only to spew the tea fucking everywhere cause it was the most insulting, funniest, scathing reveiw of Konoha he'd ever been witness to. Oh man, you could almost smell the salt coming from the letter. It's both the most glorious piece of writing he's ever held in his hands and the most embarressing cause it feels like an assessment of his skill cause as the designated 'City Planner' that Madara always felt like he isn't, every single observation felt like a barb aimed directly at his ego.

And then he read between the lines.

There was...some pretty helpful tips here and there. A few arceticual references. Reflections on history bits. Madara had half a mind to send the letter to the Nara to crack the fucking code cause while it definetely was a brutal opinion on their village...it also provided more than a few reference points to fix it.

Signed, the White Fox.

#LordTobirama!AU #my content #politics #fanfic i only hope to write one day #@kiokesu #anon speaks #spelling? HA! i don't know her #naruto

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awanderingdeal · 3 years ago

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An unfair race

I finally finished this! This fic is kind of a follow on to Endless Nights. Note: That fic is rated M and contains some sexual content, but you do not need to read it for this to make sense. I wanted to combine Finn talking with Heather, and an aspect of the discussion after that fic, where we talked about athletes in particular using exercise as a coping mechanism, and how this can sometimes turn unhealthy.

Some content warnings for this one: over exercise (if you'd like to skip the explicit description of this, skip to after the first stars, although there are a couple of mentions throughout), food mentions, self-depreciation and mentions of coming out/being outed.

Rating: T

If you feel I missed any content warnings or need to change the rating, please drop me a message!

The characters in this fic are from the sweater weather universe and belong to @lumosinlove

Finn’s entire body ached as his feet pounded against the path once more. His form was sloppy now, shoulders too hunched over and his strides falling without any real control. He forced himself onwards, breaths coming in fast pants, the straining muscles of his quads screaming desperately for more oxygen. And yet, his brain still whirred, obnoxiously loud thoughts pushing their way back to the forefront each time Finn managed to grasp a few blissful quiet seconds. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d passed the statue of the girl and her ducks, the smile on her face that he normally found so comforting becoming more and more irritating with each meeting. As he came to the gates of the park, Finn contemplated going home, but even just the reduced speed had brought the taunting thoughts back with a vengeance. One more go.

***

"H, has her jacket on. Has everybody got their game faces ready, boys?" It had been at least 30 minutes since James had made the joke as they all tumbled from the locker room, yet the sound of bright laughter still rang in Finn's ears.

He watched as Heather tugged her suit jacket more tightly around her, their eyes meeting for the third time in short succession. Fuck. Finn pushed his tongue against his mouthguard, sinking his teeth into the hard plastic. Later, self-inflicted as the need would be, he would complain about the new one he’d have moulded, each guard always feeling slightly different. For now, the rhythmic clench of his jaw was soothing.

Finn forced a breath through his nose, trying not to react too visibly as Heather dipped her head once more to add another scribbled note to the small, black book she carried everywhere. He forced himself to look away, knowing his constant glances were giving away his unease. Whilst Heather didn’t come to every training session, not even most, it wasn’t that uncommon to see her hovering around the edges of the ice, and ordinarily, only the very newest of the team paid any attention to her beyond an initial greeting.

“Earth to O’Hara!”

Finn held up his hand in apology, shaking himself back to the training session. Kasey’s eyes bored into him. It wasn't his usual intense stare, but something more concerned and Finn waited for the inevitable question. After a long few seconds, Kasey's eyes dropped to the puck, passing it back to Finn to take another shot.

The numbers on the clock inched forwards, slow and heavy like the sweet sticky molasses Leo was so fond of. Still, when Coach finally dismissed them for the day, Finn found himself wanting to take another lap. If he could get his thighs to burn enough then his head would race a little less, and it wouldn’t be too suspicious; Finn’s record of being last on the ice was surpassed only by Sirius. Before Finn could really consider it, Leo was next to him, knocking their shoulders together.

“Hey,” Leo cocked his head slightly, hair ruffled from the mask he’d recently pulled off and his pale skin glistening with sweat. He looked as beautiful as ever. Illogical as it was, it somehow made the dull ache in Finn's chest worse. "Everything good?"

"Yeah," Finn tried for a smile. "Busy brain today, that's all." There was no point brushing the question off completely; Leo was scarily observant. He and Logan often joked that he had eyes in the back of his head. Finn had no doubt he had caught the many pucks he had missed over the last hour.

"That sucks," Leo said, scepticism leaking into his voice. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Finn followed his glance behind them to where Logan was tussling with Jackson, loud rumblings of French intertwined with their laughter. "Or Lo, perhaps?"

"I like it when he looks like that,” Finn sighed.

"Mmm, me too” Leo hummed, his features softening. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that change of subject though, Sir. You don’t have to talk to me about it, but please don’t bottle it all."

Finn slumped into his stall, smiling as Leo lifted his hand to press a kiss to the knuckles. “I’m dealing with it.”

“Baby,” Leo started, his next word morphing into a stunted exhalation of air. His eyes closed briefly, his shoulders squaring before he relaxed them. He opened his mouth again, the sentence uttered clearly not what he’d originally planned on saying. "I'm going to take my padding off and head to see Lars. I think Loops is sticking around so I can get a ride with him if you two want to go home?"

Finn thought back to the quiet look of concern on Logan's face after he'd got home from his run the previous evening, and to the creased lines of worry at the corners of Leo's eyes earlier. "I think I might go and see Heather," he shrugged.

"Thank God," Logan appeared, wrapping his arms around Finn's waist. "Your runs were getting ridiculous."

"You didn't say anything?" Finn turned in Logan's arms, to rest his chin on top of his head.

"We were going to give you one more day. Leo wanted to speak to you this evening, only I had faith.”

"Oh, fuck off," Leo laughed. "You were just avoiding the conversation."

“I’m offended that you would even suggest that,” Logan burrowed into Finn’s chest. The sweat soaked gear they wore didn’t smell great, but neither of them seemed to care.

Moody huffed as he veered around them, his arms filled with tape. “No canoodling in the locker room.”

***

“As lovely as this chat has been Finn, if you really did just come in to catch up then I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I’ve got a couple of sessions this afternoon, and a mound of paperwork to complete,” Heather shifted in the forest green bucket chair. They were new since Finn had last been in here, replacing an ugly leather thing that Heather had always complained was too stereotypical. She’d removed her jacket now that she was back in her heated office, the item hung on the back of the door where it rightfully belonged.

Finn, freshly showered and changed, sat cross legged in the chair opposite. He reached forward to grab more pretzel sticks from the bowl on the table between them, puckering his lips as his tongue protested another injection of salt. “You know there is something I could do with your opinion on.”

Despite the reaction being minute, Finn saw the tiny upwards quirk of Heather’s lips. “Go on,” she encouraged.

“It’s dumb,” Finn muttered, drumming his fingers against the arm of the chair.

“Thoughts don’t have moral value Finn, it’s what we do with that’s important.” Heather pulled a handful of tissues from a box on the table, holding them out. “Tap away, but please spare the upholstery.”

“Sorry,” Finn grimaced, cleaning his hands of the salty residue.

“No need to apologise, I’m just still a bit precious about the new furniture.” Heather smiled. “Why do you think your issue is dumb?”

“It’s -” Finn tugged at his sleeve. “I can just never be happy with what I’ve got can I? I spent 8 years saying that if Logan could just love me back then I’d never complain again. And now I’ve got Logan and Leo and I’m still not happy.”

“What’s making you unhappy?

Finn breathed in deeply, scrunching his eyes shut. He’d spent weeks stuffing the pain into the tiniest box he could in his brain, and now here Heather was asking him to just - talk about it?

“Finn, look at me?” Finn did as he was asked, lifting his head to find Heather’s kind eyes. “I’m going to reiterate something I’ve said before. You can say anything you want here. It doesn’t matter if it’s selfish or unkind or if you think it’s stupid. Unless I think you’re a danger to yourself or anybody else, then nobody is going to hear about it.”

Finn bit his lip, wiggling his toes beneath his legs. “I get jealous,” he rushed out. “I get jealous of Cap and Loops and Potts and Lily and all those other couples who just get to hug and kiss and tell the cameras how stupidly in love they are.” He paused, the panic of having told somebody matching the relief, but now the words had started tumbling out he couldn’t stop. “I get so angry about it. Sometimes, for the tiniest second, I hate them. All of them.” he whispered, barely able to admit it. “And then I just feel worse. Because I love them too and it’s not their fault. Cap and Loops didn’t even get a choice in the matter. How messed up is it to be jealous of somebody that got outed?”

“Emotions are complex. It is possible for you to have sympathy for Sirius and Remus, whilst still feeling jealous that they now can be more open about their relationship.”

'I don't like it," Finn huffed. The sentence had come out mimicking a toddler having a tantrum. Finn wanted to act like one too, to throw himself on the floor and scream.

“Have you spoken to Leo or Logan about it?”

“No,” Finn frowned. “It would just make them sad and I don’t want them to pressure them. I don’t want them to know I think such horrible things.”

“Okay,” Heather nodded. “Imagine one of them came to you and told you everything you’d just told me. What would you say to them?”

“Wait.” A distressed noise fell from Finn’s lips. “Do they talk to you about this too? Both of them make a comment here or there, but we talked about it not long ago and we agreed that we weren’t ready.”

“Finn, you know I can’t tell you about what I discuss with Leo or Logan.”

“It was worth a shot,” Finn shrugged.

“So, what would you say?”

“I’d say they are entitled to be jealous. I'd say it’s not fair we don’t get to do everything the others do just because the world is homophobic and close minded and can’t imagine the three of us could love each other exactly the same as every other more traditional couple. I’d say that I know they don’t hate Cap or Loops or Potts or Lily, they hate the situation and that’s completely understandable. It fucking sucks and they can be angry about it." Finn drew in a hulking breath, Heather's outline a little blurred through his wet eyes. Each word had sent an aching pain through his body, similar to when he ran, only now he felt like was chasing something cathartic rather than running away.

"Earlier you said what you had to tell me was dumb," Heather said. "Can you explain why you think that it's dumb for you to feel that way, horrible even, but if it were Leo or Logan their feelings are valid."

"Maybe it's not dumb," Finn looked down at his hands, tracing over the freckles there. "But that doesn't change the fact I don't like having those thoughts. Especially when I don't want to act on them. I’m okay with waiting to tell people about us, if we ever do. They're not ready. I'm not ready."

"That’s something we can work on. Helping you to reframe those thoughts, I mean.” Heather slipped her notebook from where it had been tucked beside her and made a note. Finn leaned his elbow on his leg, tucking his chin onto his fist, trying to make his attempts to see the page surreptitious. Capping her pen, she gave a small chuckle, “I’m just leaving myself a reminder of what we’ve discussed. You can always ask what I’m writing, I’m not trying to keep secrets from you.”

Finn sat back, the book no longer quite so interesting now that it wasn’t forbidden. “So? That’s it?”

Heather hummed. “For today. I think you’ve got a lot to think about already. I’ll schedule some more sessions with you over the next few days, okay? It’ll give me a chance to get some new pretzels.”

"Thanks," Finn laughed, then gestured at the empty bowl. "For the pretzels. And the talk."

“That’s what I’m here for,” Heather said. “I’m just going to ask one thing of you before I see you next. Please try to keep your evening runs to a reason-”

“Who snitched?”

“There was no snitching, as you call it. We’ve just known each other for a while now, Finn. And as an employee of the Lions whose job it is to make sure you’re at top playing ability, I don’t want you to injure yourself. As your psychologist, I want you to have healthy coping mechanisms and exercising to that extent is not healthy.”

“I know,” Finn unfolded his legs, stretching them out. They’d gone stiff after being sat on for so long, the sensation coming back with an uncomfortable tingle. “I’ll try to keep the runs in check, promise.” His gaze fell on the closed door, steeling himself to leave. He stood, sending Heather one last smile. It was safe in here, but his boys were out there.

“See you soon, Finn.”

Stepping out of the office, Finn closed his eyes, giving himself a second to compose himself. A rustle of movement to his left caught his attention, startling a little at the sight of Leo and Logan. They sat on the floor, Leo’s hand resting on Logan’s knee where they were hunched to his chest.

“Sorry,” Leo scrambled to his feet, his arm outstretched to let Logan pull himself upright too. “We didn’t want to wait too far away. In case, well, I don’t know, you needed us.”

Finn joined them, immediately finding Logan attached to his side, his familiar warmth exactly what he wanted right now. “I’m okay,” he assured. “I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it with you guys just yet. I need a bit of time to process, but just you being here makes things better. I’m going to see Heather a bit more too.”

“Proud of you.” Leo flanked him on the other side, taking his hand. Finn didn’t get to be in the middle often, Logan usually claiming the spot, and he felt like he had a kind of shield. “We just want you to be happy. And safe.”

“Can we go home, please?”

“Ouais, home,” Logan agreed.

#finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #heather #sweater weather #coast to coast #lumosinlove #rating: t #cw: overexercising #cw: food #cw: self-depreciation #cw: coming out #cw:outing

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excitedlysuffering · 5 years ago

Text

How He Hurts Your Feelings

Here’s some angst for ya :p wait is this even angsty?? Idk it’s the angstiest thing I’ve ever wrote XD

Masterlist Part 2

Naruto~

You sighed as you neared your second home, a ramen shop. You loved ramen, of course, but it was tiring having to cater to your boyfriend’s uncanny obsession with it. For once you wanted to have a choice. He never listened to your ideas anymore, recently he had made your relationship all about him, and it was beginning to eat at you.

You didn’t even necessarily want to eat. You just wanted to spend time with Naruto without having to eat ramen. Was that too much to ask?

“Naruto, we always go to Ichiraku’s for dates… maybe we could do something different?” The blonde turned to you with a pout. “Why? I thought you loved ramen?” You sighed, shaking your head.

“I do, but it’s all we seem to do these days.” His frown deepened. “But, I’m hungry!” You nodded, trying to control your patience. “Me too, but maybe we can go somewhere else to eat? I heard there’s a new BBQ place opening!” He was full-on scowling and his arms were crossed.

“Why are you being so disagreeable? You wanted to go out and here we are.” Your face fell at his hostile demeanor, but you refused to back down.

“I’m not being disagreeable, Naruto. You always pick out our dates without considering my opinion, I’m simply asking if we can do something different.” He rolled his eyes, his cerulean eyes burning with irritation.

“Fine, whatever. Go to your BBQ place. I’m going to get ramen.” Without another glance, he turned around and ducked into Ichiraku’s, leaving you alone on the street. Tears filled your eyes and blurred your vision as you ran back home, suddenly having lost your appetite.

Sasuke~

The Uchiha rarely got sick, but when he did he was more irritable than usual. You knew that when he did it was best to take his words with a grain of salt, as he was just trying to seem tough to make up for his perceived weakness at being sick. However, there was only so much you could take and you were slowly reaching your limit.

With every snide remark, you felt yourself grow a bit more upset. As it was Sasuke had tried to slam the door in your face when you had arrived, given you the silent treatment, complained about every little thing about the soup you made, he even griped about the tomatoes you’d brought him.

However, what was really pushing you over the edge was his ungratefulness. When you were sick, you let him take care of you, why couldn’t you return the favor?! You had been nothing but patient and gracious, and still, he had a problem with everything you did.

“For crying out loud, woman, I don’t want the medicine!” He snapped. At that moment, you snapped too. You threw down the spoon of medicine and a loud clang resounded. “FINE! I’ve done nothing but help you, same as you’ve done for me, but all you’ve done is treat me like some kind of pest! I get that no one is themselves when they’re sick, but I am not you’re personal punching bag, Sasuke!”

He seemed taken aback by your outburst, even to the point of silence. “You’ve made it clear I’m not needed here.” His eyes narrowed as you grabbed your bag. “Because you’re not.” You froze, trying to school your expression. “What?” He scoffed. “I said you’re not needed.”

Refusing to tolerate any more of his verbal abuse, you walked out his door without a word, not caring if he saw your tears.

Neji~

If you were being truthful with yourself, you knew you had been a bit neglectful of Neji lately. In the last two weeks, you had last minute canceled three consecutive dates. In your defense, you were so close to finishing the novel you were working on, and you had completely immersed yourself in it, excited for it to be so close to completion.

You had pushed him to the back of your mind and wrote day and night. You were just pages away from completion when you heard an obnoxious knocking at your door.

You were surprised to see your boyfriend, who looked furious, to say the least. “Oh, hey, Neji, what’s up?” You stepped back letting him in. His lilac eyes met yours and it felt like staring into a typhoon.

“It’s been three weeks since we’ve gone out, and all you can say is ‘what’s up’?” His voice was deadly quiet and you sheepishly avoided his eyes. “I’m sorry, I know I’ve been distant, but I’m so close to finishing my novel, and I just-”

He was in your face before you could blink. “Your novel?! You’ve been avoiding me for that stupid thing?!” Even though his words stung, you knew he had every right to be mad; you hadn’t been very considerate lately.

“I’ve been working on it for so long and I just wanted to finish it, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You insisted. He sneered. “I can’t believe you’re spending so much time on a pipe dream. I’ve read it, and it will amount to nothing.” You had no idea how to respond, you could feel tears forming. “Get out.” Your voice was quiet but firm. “What?” You looked him directly in the eyes. “Now. I won’t repeat myself.” He stormed away with a scoff, leaving you with new insecurities.

Shikamaru~

Much to your delight, Shikamaru had agreed to go walking in the park with you. He had been away on a mission for a month and had gotten back a few days ago. You had missed him greatly and you were ecstatic to finally have him back.

“What did you do while I was away?” You looked up at the Nara as you walked. “A lot of training, really… not much else besides that. I missed you a lot.” He threw an arm around your shoulder, a small smile on his face. “I missed you too, (Y/N/N). I’m glad to be back.”

You passed a few kids who were playing a game of tag and weaving in and around the area, laughing all the way. You smiled at the sight, leaning your head onto Shikamaru’s shoulder.

“Shika?” He looked down at you letting you know he was listening. “How come you didn’t want to go cloud watching? Not that I’m complaining, it’s just unusual.”

He chuckled, steering you around the rambunctious children as they ran by. “I’ve been gone for a while, I figure it’d be nice to walk around a little bit. Don’t get used to it though, this is special.” You giggled, not surprised in the least.

“At least some things don’t change.” He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What things?” You smirked. “You’re still as lazy as can be!” He dramatically rolled his eyes before letting a smug expression settle on his face.

“And you’re still abnormally short!” Shikamaru snickered. You rolled your eyes, punching him in the shoulder. You were about to reply when there was a plume of smoke. Shikamaru was no longer in sight.

You felt your mind blank for a second. A shadow clone. Your own boyfriend had rather send a clone than actually see you after a month of being apart. You felt an ache in your chest as you angrily wiped the tears from your eyes. Had he really not missed you at all?

Kiba~

You screeched indignantly as a bucket full of water rained down on you. Tears of frustration gathered in your eyes, much to your chagrin. This was the third prank today, and you were more than tired of Kiba’s antics.

You were going to your room to grab your jacket and was in too much of a hurry to notice the trap. Now you were in the doorway, soaked to the bone, shaking with anger and cold while Kiba just laughed.

First, it had been replacing the sugar with salt so your morning coffee had been spoiled, then it had been hiding every article of clothing you owned and then having to find each individual piece, one at a time. Now you were wet and miserable and Kiba looked like he was only just beginning your torment.

“You know what, Kiba, this isn’t funny! This is the third prank in as many hours! What is your deal?!” He looked confused as if he didn’t know why you were angry. “They’re just harmless pranks, babe, no reason to get worked up.”

They were harmless pranks, but it was your… not so special week and you didn’t have the energy to deal with it. “Look, I’m tired, okay? So can you please just quit it?”

He rolled his eyes as if he were exasperated. “You’re so boring (Y/N). Why can’t you just loosen up once in a while?” You harshly rubbed your temples, trying to push down your hurt. You knew you weren’t overreacting, you were sore and drained, and he was making it that much worse.

“I’m going back to bed. Please don’t bother me.” You waved a hand towards him and walked away and slammed the door behind you. “God, what did I do to get such a whiny girlfriend?”

Your mouth fell open as you heard his voice. Was that really how he thought of you?

Gaara~

You sighed dejected, as you stared at the empty seat your boyfriend was supposed to be. You knew that as the Kazekage, Gaara was a busy man, but he was the one who planned the date and he had promised to be there.

After thirty minutes of pity filled stares and waiting, you figured he wasn’t going to show up. This was the fourth time this month that he had stood you up and you couldn’t help but find yourself hurriedly heading in the direction of the Kazekage building to confront him.

By the time you had finally reached his office, you had calmed down, but that wasn’t to say you weren’t still angry. You knocked harshly on his door and waited for his response. “Enter.” You stormed your way in, your dress swishing behind you as reached his desk.

“Gaara. I was expecting you forty-five minutes ago.” Seafoam eyes met yours, before sweeping over your outfit. “Oh, god, (Y/N), I’m so sorry, I got caught up-” I scowled at the overused excuse.

“This is the fourth time! For goodness sake, this date was your idea!” He stood up, holding your trembling hand. “I know, and I’m so sorry. I’m going to make it up to you.” Your frown deepened as you turned away.

“Do you know how foolish I looked? Having a reservation for two, and sitting there for thirty minutes?” He sighed, but it didn’t sound remorseful. “I said I’ll make it up to you, okay? I was in the middle of something important.”

Your eyes hardened as they met his. “Important? So more important than me apparently? I know you’re busy, Gaara, I do, but this is getting ridiculous! Not only are you neglecting our relationship, but you’re also neglecting your own health!”

The crimson-haired Kazekage’s eyes left yours as he sat back down. “I’m very busy right now, (Y/N), can we finish this later?” He suggested emotionlessly.

Your fists were clenched. “Don’t bother, I have nothing more to say.” The slamming door had a note of finality to it as your left.

Kakashi~

You hissed as the peroxide touched the wound on your stomach. “You were reckless, (Y/N).” You glowered at the head of silver hair that was hunched over your bruised and bloody form, medical supplies in hand.

“I wasn’t reckless, Kakashi. My team was in shambles and we were outnumbered. I did the best I could with what I had and the mission was a success and everyone is okay.” Even through his mask, you could see his frown. “But at what cost? You should’ve waited for back up!”

I rolled my eyes. “Tsunade-sama was proud, everyone is fine. These injuries are nothing. I’m a shinobi and so are you. You know the cost and this can barely be considered a cost.” He shook his head, frustrated, as he wrapped your bandages.

“I get worried, okay? I know you, and I’m scared of the day you finally go too far and do something stupid-” You shot up, no longer being able to tolerate his attitude.

“Do you doubt my abilities that much? Even though I graduated from the academy, passed the Chuunin exams, and got my Jonin promotion the same as you?!” Kakashi simply crossed his arms.

“Well, I’m having to stitch you up, right?” You swatted his hand away from the cut on your shoulder. “That’s enough! I don’t have to take this! I’ve earned my place here, no matter what you say! The number of times I’ve patched you up and never complained and this is how you treat me?” Your words faded to a whisper hurt shining through your tone.

“That’s different! I can handle it!” Your eyes widened at the words. “Seriously? So what? You’re calling me weak now?”

“That’s not what I said, (Y/N).” You chuckled humorlessly, still in disbelief that you were even having this conversation. “You didn’t have to. It was pretty clear. I think it’s time you left.” The Jonin did just that, without another word or even a glance in your direction.

With tears dripping down your cheeks, you addressed all your minor injuries, trying not to think of Kakashi.

~Akatsuki~

Pein~

In hindsight, you knew it wasn’t the best idea to rip up the forest fighting Hidan. But the Jashinist had run his mouth a little (a lot) too far this time and you dismembered him. It wasn’t that big of a deal, almost everyone had done it at some time so you thought nothing of it. Pein didn’t have the same sentiments, however, and had wasted no time calling you to his office.

“What were you thinking?” He hissed. You simply raised an eyebrow, your lover hadn’t succeeded in intimidating you in a long time. “Hidan went too far and I did what everyone else has done in the past.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling. “That’s not an excuse, (Y/N). You’re being immature, and I will not stand for it.” You snorted. “Look, Kakuzu cuts off Hidan’s head like once a week and you’ve never had a problem, so what’s got you pissed about it this time?” He scowled, his Rinnegan becoming more prominent.

“I recruited you for your smarts and potential, not so you could bounce around doing whatever you wanted! I don’t have time to deal with your childish antics!”

You just snorted, trying not to show how deeply his words were cutting you. Pein was never like this with you, he always treated you like a goddess, and now here he was berating you over a minuscule problem.

“You don’t have to ‘deal’ with me, Pein! I’m not a kid, and if someone offends me, you’d best believe I’m not going to let it slide! Now I’ll ask you one more time. What. Is. Your. Problem?” He shot up, his hands slamming down on his desk causing you to step back, startled.

“My problem is that my girlfriend is being a fool and embarrassing me!” It really did feel like he had stabbed you through the chest this time. But you bit your cheek not to let it show. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “So that’s what it is, huh? You think I’m not good enough for the great ‘God’ Pein?” You mocked.

When he didn’t respond you waved a hand, walking towards the door. “I haven’t dismissed you yet, (Y/N).” Pein’s voice rang out. You shook your head as you reached the door.

“I don’t know about that, I feel pretty dismissed right now, actually.” With that, you left, not caring to hear what else he had to say.

Deidara~

You watched as Sasori and Deidara worked on their separate projects, while you yourself worked on your own. A large, half-filled canvas was before you, baring your newest artwork. It was an abstract graffiti painting, creating a 3D letter effect. You were quite proud of it actually.

However, you could feel eyes on you and you turned, giving Sasori a questioning look as you set your paints down. “What?”

His blank brown eyes ran critically over your artwork, before shrugging and going back to his puppets. You rolled your eyes at his typical behavior before walking over to Deidara’s table.

“Hey, Dei. Whatcha working on?” He turned to you, his smile wide as he held up a clay sculpture to you. It was a chibi version of you, causing you to blush. “Do you like it, hm? It’s my best one yet, yeah!” You handled it carefully, laughing a little. “Yeah, it’s adorable!” The blonde puffed up causing you to giggle more.

“And deadly, un! These are advanced, only for special circumstances, yeah.” You were just about to question what kind of special when you noticed the puppet master in front of your canvas, looking unimpressed.

“Um, Sasori?” He didn’t respond, just waved the two of you over. You sighed as you both followed him, slightly nervous about what he was going to say. “Look, brat.” You watched as the artist’s eyes looked over every line and color. “The strokes are uneven, and the shading is off. You call this art, (Y/N)?”

Your mouth fell open at his bluntness. “Okay, one it’s abstract so that’s the point, it’s not supposed to be precise! Second, yeah, I do call this art.” Deidara offered you an apologetic smile. “Sasori no Danna is right, un, it’s a little off…” You blinked twice not comprehending his words for a moment.

“Seriously?! I never speak badly about either of your pieces, so why don’t I get the same respect?!” Sasori just rolled his eyes, sitting back down at his desk. Typical. You turned your glare to your boyfriend. He crossed his arms, not looking at you.

“It’s fine, (Y/N/N), we all have bad days, un, nothing to get worked up about, hm.” You didn’t warrant his statement with a response. You just scoffed in disbelief as you stalked out of the room. Unbelieveable.

Tbh the pic has nothing to do with this but I found it and I thought it was hilarious?

#akatsuki #naruto scenarios #sasuke x reader #neji x reader #shikamaru x reader #kiba x reader #gaara x reader #kakashi x reader #pein x reader #deidara x reader #part 1 #naruto shippuden #angst

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captain-kelli · 5 years ago

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Master List

If you like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain...

Kidding. Sort of (because I do like a good piña colada). These stories are for anyone who:

Can’t get enough of Team Cap

Is dying for strong, capable, and confident female reader-inserts

Enjoys the occasional, drunkenly-written crack fic

Is desperate for an adventure of their own

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I loved writing them.

Please read the individual warnings for each post. There will occasionally be content that is only suitable for 18+ readers.

Publicity Stunt Series - On Hiatus // Updated 01.24.2022 You’re a post-quantum computing scientist who is on the brink of success when your ex-boyfriend slams you in the press. It’s a media frenzy of epic proportions - one you and your new boss, Tony Stark, plan to combat with a little good press. Will a couple of highly-visible dates with Captain America clear your name in the court of public opinion?

A Mixtape for Steve Rogers Series - On Hiatus // 06.03.2021 Your love story with Steve, from start to finish, told through a collection of John Mayer songs in independent one-shots.

Call Sign: Renaissance Series - Complete // 08.09.2020 After a rescue mission gone wrong, you retire as a pararescue airwoman. When an old friend of yours comes calling, asking you to spearhead a disaster response team for the Avengers, you have to decide if you can let go of the past in order to save lives. Will you move on and possibly fall in love? Or will the demons of your past come back to haunt you?

Driver’s Seat One-Shot // 08.26.2021 You drive across the country in your Fiat Spider to start a new job in New York. She keeps breaking down and men keep insisting on fixing her.

The Promotion One-Shot // 01.22.2021 Sam, Bucky, and Steve are all called in for a critical mission, but you’re mysteriously missing.

Could’ve Fooled Me Drabble // 08.25.2020 It takes almost losing you before Steve admits how he feels. Never mind that he was the one who told the HYDRA agent to kill you.

Thalassophile One-Shot - Fernweh Collection // 06.22.2020 Years spent working side by side, you and Steve have maintained a strictly professional relationship even though each of you harbor secret feelings for the other. Can the salt air and island life change that?

Wayfarer One-Shot - Fernweh Collection // 05.25.2020 With a second lease on life, you and Steve cross off an item on your bucket list in Peru.

Healing Through Music Challenge, One-Shot // 03.09.2020 After the Battle of New York, you perform at a fundraising benefit hosted at the newly dubbed Avengers Tower where you meet Steve Rogers for the first time.

Tequila Confessions Challenge, One-Shot // 02.10.2020 Getting drunk and confessing your feelings for Steve Rogers really wasn’t your plan for the night, but Kevin Bacon and Whitney Houston had other ideas.

West Philadelphia One-shot // 01.17.2020 The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air is a classic and it’s really important to you and Sam that Steve watches it.

An Easy Fifty Bucks Challenge, One-shot // 01.01.2020 An impromptu invitation to a gala at Stark Tower offers you the chance to meet Steve Rogers. And win a bet.

‘Tis the Season to be Married Challenge, One-shot // 12.02.2019 As a New Yorker, it was always your dream to get married in the city at Christmas. You just didn’t think the actual day would be better than your imagination.

Losing My Religion One-Shot // 11.21.2019 When everything Steve had faith in abandoned him, he abandoned you. But a close-call makes him second guess his decision.

Christmas in the District Challenge, One-Shot, Coffee Shop AU // 11.07.2019 Christmas makes you want to be with the people you love. Will you and Steve finally admit your feelings for one another?

Still Feel Like Your Man Challenge, One-Shot // 11.04.2019 You weren’t an easy girl to get over, not that Steve wanted to do that anyway.

No Supervision Required Challenge, One-Shot // 11.01.2019 You’re fiercely independent and exceedingly capable. You’re also undercover. Why can’t Steve Rogers see that?

Lay Me Down One-Shot // 11.01.2019 The Sokovia Accords split up the Avengers and forced Steve into hiding with you still in New York. He leaves a letter behind, asking you to wait for him. But just how long is a girl supposed to wait?

The Air That I Breathe One-Shot // 10.31.2019 Steve loves you, but he never really let Peggy go. When he left to return the infinity stones to their proper places in time, he knew he wanted to stay. But that meant he was leaving you behind.

Hot & Cold One-Shot // 12.10.2022 There’s something about an old flame that keeps Bucky warm in December.

Moksha One-Shot - Fernweh Collection // 06.15.2020 At Stephen Strange’s suggestion, Bucky travels to Kathmandu in search of peace. Before he finds it, he finds you.

Solivagant One-Shot - Fernweh Collection // 06.01.2020 Bucky is sent to Antarctica on a highly-classified, fact-finding mission. He has trouble keeping his intentions a secret from you, a lovely but skeptical biologist.

The Prerogative (to Have a Little Fun) One-Shot // 04.07.2020 Karaoke is infinitely better with your girls by your side and Bucky Barnes in the audience.

Power of Ten Challenge, One-Shot // 03.17.2020 Bucky gets a new neighbor at the compound and has a battle of wills over the volume of music.

Pages of the Soul Challenge, One-Shot // 01.27.2020 With help from a Wakandan therapist and his journal, Bucky begins to heal from his traumatic past while finding his way back to you.

Birthday Battle Royale One-Shot // 01.12.2020 Bucky isn’t one to celebrate his birthday, so the cake you were baking was a surprise. Until it wasn’t.

Killer Queen One-Shot // 11.15.2019 You were the assassin that got away. Bucky wouldn’t be able to get you off of his mind until he got you into his bed.

Keeping Barnes Warm Drabble // 11.08.2019 Bucky is asked to go on a mission somewhere he’s not entirely eager to return to.

Delicate One-Shot // 11.03.2019 Bucky explores his path of renewal with you in Bucharest.

Stop This Train One-Shot // 10.31.2019 Saying good-bye to Natasha was impossible. You find comfort in Bucky as the two of you figure out what life looks without your two best friends.

Memory Loss Mini-Series // On Hiatus // Updated 05.23.2021 Sam Wilson isn’t the only one on the hunt for the former Winter Soldier. Always two steps ahead of him is a runaway assassin from the Red Room looking for revenge. Can Sam convince you that Bucky Barnes deserves to live?

Abbiocco One-Shot - Fernweh Collection // 06.08.2020 In one of the most romantic places in the world, you and Sam spend your honeymoon learning to make pasta, drinking wine, and lingering in bed.

Fernweh Collection: We may not be able to board a plane and travel like we’d like in this virus ridden world, but we can still use our imaginations to explore far off places with some of our favorite characters. Join Steve, Bucky, Sam and others in this collection of independent one-shots with a common theme: travel.

Recommended Reading: I use the tag #fic rec for every story I read. There are some talented writers in this fandom and I loved every one of these stories. Go check them out!

Don’t Call It a Comeback (Tour): I had been gone from tumblr for a few months and missed the community here so much. I desperately wanted to get the gang back together and this writing challenge was the perfect way to do it.

Stories about Strong Women: In March 2020, some of my absolute favorite writers (friends and newly discovered ones) submitted brilliant stories featuring strong women for my first writing challenge.

#Steve Rogers x Reader #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Marvel Fanfic #captain-kelli

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skybiome · 4 years ago

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And when the sun comes up, you’ll find a brand new god.

Chapter 3

Beginning | Previous | Next

ao3

tw: mild unreality

Techno woke up face down on a forest floor. He rolled over, and was faced with the tallest trees he’d ever seen. A navy sky fought through the foliage as the sun sat low on the horizon, casting massive shadows across the needle and leaf coated floor.

The patch of ground Techno had landed on was swept clean of organic material, leaving bare dirt. On one side of the clearing was a stone statue of a person. Opposite the statue was a footpath that wound around the trees and disappeared into the distance. Techno got to his feet and approached the monument

It should have been a life size monument of a person standing on a small pedestal, sword drawn and held out in front of them with a pair of wings spread behind him. Instead, the arm had broken off and fallen to the dirt floor. The wings had likewise broken off near their bases, and foliage had grown over the broken limbs.

Time had worn the statue’s face smooth, and removed several of the letters from the plaque on the bottom pedestal. The first part of the starting word was the most damaged, but the rest of the script was fairly legible.

It read, “----ZA, GOD OF SURVIVAL AND SOLITUDE. PATRON OF CHILDREN AND THE HURT. PROTECTOR OF THIS FOREST AND THE ONES IN IT.”

If he focused, a script running along the blade of the fallen sword read “Justice”. It’s name most likely.

Even severely worn down, the statue seemed content in its current state. If this really was a land blessed by a deity, Techno doubted they would have let age damage an image of them so. This whole area would have been created by Wilbur, but the monster hunter wouldn’t put it past him to get a few other gods involved. The deities of the land were well acquainted with one another.

The sun had risen slightly. Techno’s blood dyed clothes shimmered in the growing daylight. Turning away from the statue, he started down the trodden path. After spending days on end wandering circles around a stone labyrinth, Techno was surprised to reach civilization after only an hour’s walk.

A small village was set up surrounding a central well. There was no movement in the windows, but the location seemed lived in. Gardens were well kept and wheel tracks were freshly made in the dew dampened dirt. But this was just all a setting made by Wilbur. Simulating a fully functioning town would be difficult and time consuming, even for a god.

Letting that train of thought fizzle out, Techno gravitated towards the only building in the central plaza with light on inside. A sign outside the building declared it the Core Inn. Opening the door revealed a room full of tables that should be brimming with patrons. Instead, the only moving figure was polishing some glasses behind.

Blond with stubble and a green and white bucket hat. He looked kind enough. His most eye catching features were the massive black wings on his back, though.

At the sound of the doors, he looked up. The bartender didn’t look very surprised at the sign of someone wearing gold stained clothes stumbling in. Instead, he just waved Techno towards the bar top.

Techno sat down at the bar, and was incredibly relieved when the man turned around before speaking. He didn’t have the energy for a face to face conversation right now.

“What brings you to my little town?”

Techno set his head down on the wooden tabletop. “Can we please not do this, right now?” He knew he was filthy, but he was so tired of being awake.

There was a pause before the man let out a questioning, “Alright?” After a moment, he continued with, “What do you want to do then?”

The monster hunter groaned. “I just want a bed. I don’t have money, but I can pay you back with work.”

His bag of money had gotten torn off during the fight with the gryphon. Techno didn’t need sleep, but he wanted nothing more than to stop thinking for a few hours. Wandering through a maze for weeks was far from the most stimulating things, and the contrast from blank stone walls to the wind blowing through a forest was overwhelming.

“Okay, I can probably find something for you to do around here. Come on, then-” he parsed that sentence by softly knocking on the table by Techno’s head “-follow me.”

Techno took a moment, but slid off the stool. The man led him down a hall lined with doors to various rooms. Pulling a keyring off his belt, he unlocked the door and held it open. Techno walked right past him and was asleep before he even hit the bed surface.

---

When he woke up, starlight was struggling to fight through the canopy of the forest outside his window. . The monster hunter tried to bury himself in the blankets of the bed and disappear for a few more precious hours, but his eternally healing body would only let him sleep for so long.

Techno hadn’t slept indoors in years. It was cheaper to sleep outdoors, and it involved less human interaction. A win for everyone involved, in his expert opinion. His gold stained boots moved silently over the finished wooden floor.

Walking around the corner, he was faced with an even emptier tavern setting than the day before. Even the bartender was gone. The lamps on the walls were still lit, though. A note sat on the end of the bar, facing towards the hall Techno emerged from.

It read, “Gone out to do something. There’s a bath drawn up in the room behind the kitchen with clean clothes. You look like you could use it.”

The gore coated man set the note face down on the bartop, and went to see what was beyond the kitchen. True to the note’s promise, a large tub full of water sat in the room, along with soap, towels, and fresh clothes. He locked the sliding bolts on both doors and stripped out of his tattered clothes.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper bath. The closest he’d gotten was walking in the rain, or getting thrown into a river or lake by a monster. The water of the bath was even pleasantly warm. Techno certainly took his sweet time, washing himself and the blood out of his hair. If he could, he would have fallen back asleep in the warmth of the water.

But eventually, Techno pulled himself out of the tub and toweled off. He dried his hair the best he could. It was already down to his lower back, and he’d need to cut it soon. Techno glanced over at his sheath, which had moved itself out of his pile of discarding clothing, and was now leaning against the side of the tub.

The man’s expression fell at the physical reminder of his curse, and decided against cutting it right now. The hair was one of the few aspects of his affliction he didn’t mind. Techno liked having his hair long, but it often got in his way and was a lot to take care of. He could cut it when he left the small town.

Right now, he let it hang loose and put on the clothes provided to him. A plain white shirt and black pants that were nearly identical to the ones he’d been wearing before, along with a deep green cloak. Green wasn’t normally his color, but it would do until it changed. He pulled on the boots, and walked back out into the kitchen.

Despite it still being dark outside, the bartender had returned, and was reading a book on the other side of the counter top. A glance at the back of the bar revealed very little. Only about 3 glasses and a singular, unopened bottle of wine met Techno’s vision. Whenever Wilbur had created this place, he’d done a very poor job of detailing it.

While the monster hunter had been silently judging the deity’s decorative abilities, the winged bartender had closed his book. Techno looked up at the man. He took that as his cue to speak.

“My name’s Phil. It’s nice to meet you.”

Techno nodded and simply offered, “Technoblade.”

Phil didn’t seem discouraged by his curt reply. Instead the winged man pushed himself off the bar stool and walked around to the back of the bar. Taking the hint, Techno moved back to the front and sat down on a stool.

“Do you want something to eat?” The bartender was facing away from Techno, resting his hand against the door to the kitchen.

The monster hunter hummed for a moment, before answering with, “sure.”

The feathered man nodded, and entered the back room, leaving Techno alone in the mainroom of the inn. About 30 seconds later, Phil re-emerged with a plate full of steaming hot food.

That shouldn’t have been possible. Techno had been in that kitchen not even 30 seconds ago, and none of the appliances were lit. Wilbur wouldn’t have been able to change something that small that fast. Deity rarely worked on microscale unless they were there physically. Phil would’ve had to have made it.

But that was neither here nor there. Right now, Techno’s attention was fully focused on the meal in front of him. He may not need to eat, but he hadn’t eaten in months and the food in front of him smelled really good.

Phil chuckled as Techno dug in. Techno ignored him. The meal was just a potato with salt and butter, and some carrots and peas on the side, but it tasted like heaven. If he had been a normal man, he definitely would have burnt his mouth.

In ten minutes flat, Techno had cleared the plate. The bartender whisked the plate away and set a glass of water in front of the man. That disappeared just as quickly.

Phil set that back in the kitchen as well. Techno bet that if he went back there, there wouldn’t be a plate or glass in sight. Instead, he just ran a hand through his hair, and looked to the winged man.

“What can I do to repay my debt?” Techno wanted to get out of this town as fast as possible.

Phil thought for a moment, and answered with, “Go strip down your bed, and wash it in the creek behind the building. There’s a washboard against the outside wall. I’ll clean up the bath.”

The monster hunter tilted his head, “Should we wait until day?”

The winged man had already walked into the kitchen, but Techno heard him shout, “It is day!,” through the walls.

A glance out the windows revealed Phil to be right. The sun was up over the horizon, casting the same long shadows Techno had seen yesterday.

The cursed man blinked. It had definitely been night time only a few minutes ago. Techno stood up, and shook off the lingering confusion. Once he got out of this weird town, things would stabilize. He just needed to finish working for Phil first.

Walking back into his room, Techno began pulling the sheets off the bed. Most of the blankets were still neatly folded and tucked away under the bed frame, so he only had to clean the stuff that directly on top that he’d slept on.

True to Phil’s word, a washboard and a bar of soap were sitting on top of a barrel outside the back of the inn. This town definitely wasn’t real. Someone would have stolen the washboard if anyone else lived here.

But he wasn’t here to question the world building of Wilbur's domain. Instead, he stripped off his boots and socks, folded his new cloak, and left them in the grass away from the running water. The crick bed was entirely stones and pepp. The water ran clear and Techno could see the bottom. So he got to work scrubbing the mud and sweat out of the bedsheet.

That’s where Phil found him, ten minutes later. Saying nothing, the winged man took off his shoes and socks and joined Techno in the water. The stream was about ten feet across, and sluggishly winding through the forest side, so Phil could sit on the far bank and dip his feet in the water without disturbing the other man’s work.

A comfortable silence sat over the two as the monster hunter noticed another odd thing about the forest. There were no birds singing or insects chirping. The only noises came from the river babbling and Techno rubbing the filth out of the fabric. Just one more thing to add to the inaccuracies of this domain.

After a few more minutes of scrubbing, Techno gathered up the material in his arms and waded to the center of the brook to rinse it out. Once all the loose dirt was washed away, he bundled the material up and looked towards Phil.

“Where do you want me to put this?”

The winged man pushed himself to his feet, and took the sheet from the monster hunter’s grip. “I’ll hang it on the line.” He turned and walked out of the river, towards a clothesline hung between the side of the inn and a nearby tree that definitely had been there before Phil had turned around.

That was a bit much, even for Techno’s suspension of disbelief. He’d have to confront the winged man about it later. Right now he turned back to cleaning the other sheet. The fact that he was hanging out with an all powerful deity was future Techno’s problem. Right now, he had to get out of debt of the all powerful deity in question.

Techno’s attention was split between washing the material in his hand, and watching Phil wrestle the fabric up and over the clothes line. He was doing it fairly well, but the cursed man was more enraptured with how Phil’s wings moved along with him.

The deity’s attention was solely focused on manipulating the sheet, and Techno was fascinated as the man out precariously leaned one way, only for his opposite wing to extend and counterbalance him. Originally the wings looked almost pure black, but they seemed to reflect a deep purple color in the daylight.

Phil finished securing the fabric and turned to face Techno. The monster hunter averted his gaze, turning back to the washboard in his hand. In a few more minutes, the other sheet was cleaned, rinsed, and handed off to Phil again.

Techno waded out of the river, and futilely tried to shake the water out of his shirt sleeves. The front of his shirt and pants were soaked, along with the ends of his hair. Ringing as much water out of his hair, he gathered up his shoes and cloak. He’d leave them off until the rest of his clothes dried out.

Leaving Phil to continue wrestling the damp cloth, Techno wandered back inside the building. He sat back down at the bar and continued running his hands through his long hair, trying to get as many tangles out as possible. The monster hunter barely noticed when Phil entered the inn.

Most of his focus stayed on playing with his own hair, but a small portion did stay locked on the winged man, as he walked into the kitchen and out of Techno’s sight.

A couple minutes later, he re-emerged with two bowls in hand. One was set in front of the Techno, and the other he sat down with beside Techno. Phil immediately dug in.

The cursed man took a moment to look at the stew, before doing the same. Rabbit with some root vegetables and a few spices that Techno couldn’t name. Phil certainly hadn’t cooked it by hand, but it was still very good. Before he knew it, his bowl was empty and he was tipping it up to drink the last of the precious liquid.

A small chuckle from Phil grabbed his attention. Techno wiped at his mouth, and turned to look at the bartender.

Phil lifted his bowl to his mouth and mimicked Techno. He was a little over enthusiastic in his attempt, because some poured over the edge and down his front. A laugh escaped from the monster hunter. Undeterred, the winged man finished off the bowl.

The bartender wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gathered both of their bowls. He stuck his head into the kitchen and deposited them somewhere behind the door. When he turned around, the stains had already disappeared from his shirt.

Phil brushed his hands together, as if he had just finished an arduous task. “You can probably go to bed if you want, all the chores are done for today.”

Techno tilted his head to the side and gave him an odd look. “All we did today was laundry.”

Phil shrugged. His winged flexed and moved along with the motion. “It’s dark outside already. I’m not going to make you work at night.” He gestured towards one of the windows on the side of the room.

Techno’s vision followed his motion. True to Phil’s word, night time had already fallen outside. The monster hunter turned back around to the sound of something shuffling.

The noise was Phil stretching and his wings moving in tandem with his arms. The extra limbs didn’t extend outward and knock over the displayed alcohol bottles. Instead they reached upwards and the primary feathers almost tapped the rafters in the ceiling. After a moment, the wings folded back up neatly behind Phil’s back.

He rubbed at his eyes and said with a yawn, “I’m gonna to head to bed. You should probably do the same.” With that, the bartender turned his back on Techno and walked down the hall that led to the bedrooms.

A door opened and closed out of Techno’s sight. After a moment, the cursed man re-gathered his clothes and ventured down the hall. Turning the knob to the room he’d slept in last night, pushed the door open. The bed was perfectly made with new sheets, even though Phil had been back in the room. There was a new chain lock on the door that the cursed man made use of.

If Phil was a god, a simple piece of metal wouldn’t stop him, but it was still a nice thought on his part. The winged man had been nothing but hospitable, and Techno was going to take full advantage of that. Setting his cloak and shoes on a bedside table, Techno pulled a blanket out from under the bed frame.

Oh, and the clothes he was currently wearing were entirely dry, when they’d been wet only minutes before. Weirder things had happened today.

He smoothed the blanket over the bedspread and crawled underneath. He’d spend a few more days in town, and then continue to wherever Wilbur wanted him to go. Either way, it would keep him from destroying more of the real world. Trouble always followed him, so it was nice to not have to worry about the destruction he always left in his wake.

#technoblade #philza #my writing #when the sun comes up au #poggers #this doc is over 11k now making it the longest thing ive ever written

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quirkysubject · 4 years ago

Note

You say you care about critical thinking, but you reblogged that interview without comment. Everyone's going to assume it's genuine.

That’s a good point. I reblogged the link without a disclaimer that everything about it should be taken with not just a grain of salt, but a whole bucket.

The reason for that is that I thought @a-froger-epic made a good job of explaining how she came to know J in the author’s notes, so that everyone had the tools to make up their own minds. I kind of have this expectation that when people see “anonymous source” on something, they’ll know how to handle it.

I genuinely didn’t think that people would read this and take everything at face value. Perhaps I’m naive.

Perhaps I should have added the disclaimer anyway, because you’re right, it might come across as me vouching for the veracity something. And since we’re all likely to fall into traps of wishful thinking, it’s a good idea to repeat that reminder (to myself as well) every now and then.

So thank you. I’m already trying to be as careful as possible about distinguishing facts from theories/rumours, but I guess I can do better.

(By the way, there is also some really interesting discussion going on in the comment section, fact-checking some things said by J.)

~~~

For anyone who’s interested, my personal opinion on J’s authenticity is behind the cut. But please, go make up your own minds.

First off: I wouldn’t take a single thing J has said and claim it is fact without other supporting evidence in its favour. Even if we believe that J is genuine, she’s a single person giving her impressions of things that happened almost fifty years ago.

Memories are constantly built and rebuilt, they’re malleable, and they kind of take the shape that best fits our narrative over time.

So for example, the “I went to gay pride with Roger, Freddie, Brian and Tim” is one I’ll only believe when I have Word of Roger, Brian or Tim (who apparently was in Italy at the time anyway). This is a case where I think it’s possible she was there with some mates - and over time those mates took on the shape of her more famous mates.

So, what about J herself? Personally - and I might be wrong! - I think the outline of J’s story is true. I have seen some of the e-mail exchanges and it “felt” authentic for what that’s worth. However, a clever hoaxer (or just someone who convinced themselves of their own story) could of course fool me. Or perhaps only parts are true - perhaps she was in London at the time, but never met Queen, or was a lot less involved with them than she now claims/remembers.

The fact that she claims to have lost all her photos in a flooding in 1988 is suspicious, and I understand everyone who nopes out at this point.

Finally, I realise that my friendship with @a-froger-epic makes me want to believe it, and that it sways me in that direction. If anyone else had posted this, perhaps someone I didn’t like or trust, I’d probably be much more suspicious of the story in general.

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spyvstailor · 4 years ago

Photo

GRAVEYARD DIRT & SALT

CHAPTER FIVE: BENNY

“South Carolina abouts they have this critter called a 'Boo Hag', said to be a skinless sort of vampire and they like to ride you to death and steal your breath. If they like you, they keep you alive, sucking your air, sustaining themselves. But if they don't, if you struggle or make them angry, they skin you and wear your skin. Just walk around like they wear pants or such. But they can't stay riding you forever, they gotta be home and in their skin before sunrise or they become trapped forever without skin.”

Please support me, I’m still out of work because of COVID, so anything you can toss my way can really help. I’m going to need to feed my kitties soon! Reblog this if you can’t donate to please support a nearly starving author!

Read the newest chapter here below the cut if you want, since ko-fi can be unreliable!

Chapter Five: Benny

When everything went to hell, Benny had been at the top.

Maybe he still was? He had no idea how Vegas handled the swarms of the dead.

Probably no better than Atlanta.

God, what a fucking hole in the ground to be caught undead in. Why had he even agreed to come here to the middle of Satan's nutsack to make a deal?

By the time he waded through the packed streets, filled with fleeing idiots, days had passed and the wave of infection had spread.

When he made it to the edge of the city, it was almost completely overrun.

And his private helicopter, that last hope he had of leaving Georgia, was useless, no pilot. So, he was wading his way through the land of good ol' boys and peaches, heading home.

Because what else did he do? Just stay stuck in Georgia with the undead on his ass? Forever? The idea seemed to tickle him. It was divine retribution for all his sins. This was hell. He was in hell. Well, thanks but no thanks. He'd take his chances back in Vegas with his well-stocked warehouse and his penthouse in The Golden Rose.

God, he missed The Golden Rose. Melody's pretty little voice chirping 'Hello, welcome to The Golden Rose', every time he passed through the lobby, or the weird night gamblers bellying up at the bar around two in the morning, sipping on complimentary Flash-bang's, the signature drink created by Bruce behind the bar. Sure he had more employees than Melody and Bruce, the others, the late-night workers who always were just a little bit off, but friendly enough. The kids fresh out of school, old enough to work at the casino, who tried too hard to impress the boss. Sven in the kitchen, who never seemed to leave, always yelling at him for coming down and making those 'nasty little sandwiches' as he called them, the open-faced ones made with peanut butter and sliced bananas on plain white bread, the sandwiches Valerie had gotten him hooked on when they were first dating. They were her favourite midnight snack and they had fast become Benny's too.

Valerie.

Ten years. Holy fuck had it been ten years?

Plucking at a stretchy beaded bracelet he wore, Benny snapped it hard and shook off his thoughts of Valerie. They didn't do him any good in this new society.

From where he sat. Perched on the railing of the bell tower, looking down across a darkened Georgia, barely peeking over treetops that surrounded the convent, Benny exhaled.

Annie had given him the stink-eye at their new spot, full of bird shit and leaves and any kind of crap that the winds blew into the little tower, but Benny had sat her down gently onto the bearskin rug and the sleeping bag on top of it and promised her they would clean it up in the morning.

He didn't tell her what he was thinking, he didn't tell a lot of people what he thought, no one wanted to hear his bullshit. His old man used to say 'if I want your opinion, I'll beat it out of you' and he meant it.

The truth was, the trouble on the wall, the nun dying, had reminded him how dangerous it was. He had become too soft and spoiled lately, the dead were thinning out and he had forgotten what it was like when the outbreak first happened when it was really bad.

They were safer in the tower, should anything happen to the gate, there was a heavy church door to open and a narrow ladder to climb before anything could get at them.

And, sitting on the trapdoor that led to the ladder, Benny knew Annie was safer here than anywhere else.

It had been a long, long time since anyone had relied on Benny and he took his job seriously. Nothing would happen to Annie as long as he was alive and kicking.

During his flight from Atlanta, he had somehow wound up arm in arm with Annie and her mother Laila. They had sort of run across each other and just kept running in the same direction.

Benny had immediately liked Laila, she was tough as hell and he had to admire that about her. Not that he knew much about her or the kid, they weren't real big on talking and he also had to admit he liked it that way.

But Laila had his back and he had hers and they made a good team, but when she went out one morning to scrounge for breakfast and never came back he didn't think for a second the dead had gotten her. He knew her, she was a survivor.

Something else happened.

So he stuck around the area, hoping he'd find something which would let him know where Laila had gotten off too. And somehow, sticking around the small town, he wound up running into that marine and that Grayson kid, and when the kid started talking about men taking his sister, Benny started thinking. He wasn't a gambler by nature, despite him living in a casino in Las Vegas, but he would bet everything he had that when they found these men, he would find Laila.

And Jesus, if he didn't also kind of like that marine.

Not that he'd ever admitted that out loud. Admitting you liked someone, admitting you wanted to be someone's – what? Drinking buddy? At his age? Embarrassing.

But he liked him just fine. The Cajun was a tall puppy dog, but there was something about his optimism that balanced Benny's nihilism nicely.

On the wall below, three nuns kept vigil over Sister Mary Patrick's body. They couldn't retrieve her until morning, so they kept a quiet, mindful watch.

And just like those nuns, Benny would keep a silent watch over Annie all night long, he would sleep when she was old enough to take care of herself.

Sitting by the nuns' water pump in their convent yard the next morning, he watched Annie as she brushed her teeth, brushing his own with the travel toothbrush he kept in his jacket pocket. He liked to travel as light as possible, gun, bullets, knife, toothbrush and tube of toothpaste, and while he'd never admitted it, reading glasses for emergency reading, because fuck if he wasn't getting old.

He noticed the marine traveled with a goddamn apartment on his back and that was just fine for him. Marines were trained for distance and roughing it, they were pack mules. And just as dumb.

He needed more bullets for his tidy little Springfield, come to think of it.

“She's a good kid,” someone said from his left. It was a male voice and not Grayson's.

Benny ignored the marine for a moment, not wanting to chat about the fucking weather or some bullshit, spitting his toothpaste foam into a bucket of water to be dumped over the wall with the rest of the handwashing and face washing water.

There was a nun's body being buried out behind the church right now and he didn't feel like jibber-jabbing.

“We did our best last night,” the Lieutenant said, easing down beside him on one of the folding chairs the nuns had set up around their water source. For what? Water pump gossip? Maybe.

“Dead nun though,” Benny replied, sipping at some water to rinse his mouth.

The marine was quiet beside him, gazing out across the dewy lawns.

“I didn't mean to put the squeeze to you,” he began. “Yesterday in the church. I know you don't like talking about yourself.”

“Sure you did,” Benny returned.

Withdrawing for a moment to regroup, the marine went on, “fine. I did a little, but...it's hard trusting people nowadays, yeah?”

“Hard to trust people before this bullshit,” Benny shot back.

“Fair.”

There was a tension to the marine that told Benny he was gearing up for something, angling to reach for something during the entire conversation.

“You got something to say, don't pussyfoot,” he said calmly.

“Not that I don't believe you, but I want a reassurance that you're not trying to fuck us on this deal with the copter,” the marine said.

Benny nodded. “Yeah, I thought you'd think that. I wouldn't blame you. But it's real.”

“Well, we go in smart then,” the man stated.

“We go in smart,” Benny agreed, stretching out his legs and resting them on another chair across from him.

Beside him the marine remained seated, quiet in the growing daylight.

“We done?” Benny inquired.

“You ever hear about the boo hags?”

“The what?”

“And the moral of this story is...?” Benny prompted.

The Lieutenant shrugged, folding his arms. “Nothing really, I just think about the Boo Hags sometimes.”

“My granny used to tell me about this guy she knew from Corpus Christi, used to hate wearing pants. He wasn't crazy or anything, just said they were too hot and itchy, so he'd walk around in his boxer shorts everywhere.”

Around them, the nuns went about their morning routine, chores, and preparing for their morning mass after burying their fellow nun.

“Well,” Benny said. “Maybe he was a little crazy, I guess.”

Annie came to him and climbed into his lap, watching the activity around them quietly. It was a strange sort of calm to the morning, despite the funeral. It felt like the soft morning's Benny had at his grandparents, warms sunlight, peace, and quiet before the hectic activity of the day. It brought him back home to a home he mourned every single day of his life, a home he had only fleetingly as a boy before it was replaced with the boozy smelling mornings of his parents home.

“Mornings like this feel like my Mamere getting ready for church,” the Lieutenant said. “She used to sing when she was getting ready in the mornings, and she'd sing,

There's a land that is fairer than day,

and by faith we can see it afar;

for the Father waits over the way

to prepare us a dwelling place there.”

In his lap Annie rest her head against Benny's chest, listening to the marine as he sang in a fine, deep baritone. Benny knew the song well, it was his grandmother's favourite. When she finally came and took him home, to his real home with her and his grandfather, away from the chaos of his mother and father's lives.

They were the only people who ever really loved him.

The hymn brought back memories of Sunday mornings dressing for church, of Sunday evenings with the smell of roast chicken and his granny's baked apples, sweetened with brown sugar, butter, and cinnamon, sticky and warm.

He didn't live with them long. They were hit by a drunk driver and killed two years after he moved in with them. Benny went back to the chaos and Edna and Merle were buried in Oak Grove.

At the sound of the gentle singing, a few nearby nuns gathered in closer, curious, and quiet. Raised Baptist by his grandparents at least, Benny joined in with the marine, singing only very, very faintly, as though he were doing it for his granny and no one else. He would sing in a voice only barely above a whisper.

It was Annie who joined in the singing, almost eager and happy to do something that wasn't fighting and surviving.

In the sweet by and by,

we shall meet on that beautiful shore.

In the sweet by and by,

we shall meet on that beautiful shore.

We shall sing on that beautiful shore

the melodious songs of the blessed;

and our spirits shall sorrow no more,

not a sigh for the blessing of rest.

In the sweet by and by,

we shall meet on that beautiful shore.

In the sweet by and by,

we shall meet on that beautiful shore.

To our bountiful Father above

we will offer our tribute of praise

for the glorious gift of his love

and the blessings that hallow our days.

“My granny used to sing that one too,” Benny finally admitted, in the stark silence at the end of the song. “Yours lived with you?” He asked.

The Lieutenant nodded. “Yeah, my grandparents raised me.”

“Where were your parents?” Benny asked.

“Due to circumstances beyond my control, nowhere in sight,” the Lieutenant replied, a grin in his voice. “My ma was hospitalized most of my young life,” he added in a more serious tone. “The man who impregnated her was...not important.”

“Pump and dump?”

“Of sorts, not really given permission for it though,” the Cajun finished tentatively.

Benny felt his blood chill a little. “I get you.” He said, not wanting the marine to have to open up old wounds.

“You?”

“I lived with my grandparents for a while, yeah. My parents were...selfish pricks, they lived in Galveston.”

“I get you,” the marine repeated his own words. Easing back in his chair, the Cajun asked, “where you from? Where'd you grow up? You said you lived in Forth Worth?”

“My grandparents lived in Fort Worth, so I guess I moved between there and Galveston mostly.”

“What happened to the twang? You lose it or hate it?” The Lieutenant inquired.

Benny chuckled. “I haven't lived there for years.”

“Can never really shake the twang though, yeah?” The Lieutenant teased.

“I guess not. You? I know Cajun when I hear it, but where you from in Louisiana?”

“Eunice.”

“Eunice? That's...down south, isn't it? Way down the bayou,” he mocked the Lieutenant's accent, prompting the marine to laugh.

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

“Annie,” he turned to the kid in his lap. “Why don't you head inside the infirmary, okay? I'll be right there to get you set up for the day.”

The girl slipped down to the ground and nodded, heading obediently for the building where Grayson was already getting his shit together.

Sullen, a little pissed that he was forced to face things he had buried long ago in Texas, Benny remained quiet for a good long time. Long enough that eventually the anger dispersed.

Benny sat still and silent so long that eventually, it was just him and the Cajun, who remained, squatted down on his haunches, resting.

“We're running on a very short timeline,” Benny finally said to the man.

The marine nodded. “Yep.”

“That girl, if she is still alive, won't be so young and vibrant if she's with these men, I can tell you that right now. Feel like with no law, men will become animals, women will become prey.”

“What's going on in that tiny bird brain of yours?” The Cajun asked.

“You need to stay here and train up some of these damned nuns, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Think you could trust me?” Benny asked suddenly, turning away from the middle nothing he was staring at and pining the Cajun with a look.

For a good long while the marine eyed him back, blue-grey eyes hard and scrutinizing. At rest the man's face was regal, but villainous, betraying his genuine kindness, at rest his face was the face of a man you didn't want to fuck with.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“You're going to have to know so,” Benny urged.

“Alright, I know I can trust you.”

“It might be riskier, but time is important, isn't it?”

“What's your plan, fancy man?”

“When I was poking around the church earlier, I spied some priest shit, a get up for a proper man of the Lord. Might give me a pretty good shield, might get me close enough to those men if I can find them, to get inside their group.”

“Espionage?”

“Whoa, slow down there Bayou-bred, that's a big word for you.”

The two men hushed up as Grayson began to head over towards them.

“Fuck off, Grayson!” Benny shouted.

“Fuck you, assclown!” Grayson snarled back, veering off in anger towards the wall and the gate.

“That kid is going to murder you in your sleep some night, paon.” The Lieutenant mused.

“Ah well, he's a good kid, needs toughening up. Mouthy little fuck though.”

The two men settled a little again, their ruffled feathers smoothing out in the tranquility that followed the exchange between Benny and Grayson.

“You could get yourself killed ducking in on a group like a priest. If they find out you're not or if they happen to find out what you're up to.”

“I know,” Benny replied. “But I'm good at it.”

“Good at it?” The Lieutenant asked.

Benny smiled. “Getting into places I shouldn't be as someone I'm not.”

The Cajun was quiet, before sighing. “Okay. Cut the shit, what the fuck are you?”

“I'm goddamned good at what I do. You just worry about these nuns. When I head out, you need to do one thing for me. You just need to trust that whatever happens once I leave this convent, I'm not going to fuck you over. Annie will stay here, she'll be my guarantee that I won't let anything happen.”

“Okay.”

“You tell anyone you need that I ran off in the night, just not Annie. You tell her I'll be back. You need to do this for me. Can you do this?”

“I don't like handing the reins over, but...you're right. Time is important and these nuns can't be left alone. Splitting up might be the best bet for everyone. I'll play my part.”

“Pact?” Benny offered, holding out his hand. He knew it was childish, but he wanted God (if there be any) to witness his honesty. For once in his goddamned life of other names, other faces, he wanted some higher power to see his bluffing ass telling a truth.

The Lieutenant leaned back a little, before saying, “brothers. It makes you blood. You don't cross blood.”

“Brothers,” Benny swore, the two men shaking hands firmly.

Releasing hands, the two men sat back a little, trying to look like two men just sharing a conversation, as Mena poked her head out of the convent cloister and started their way.

“We meet up tonight, dead of night when everyone is asleep, in the back room of the church,” Benny said softly, hurrying before Mena could join them.

The Lieutenant nodded.

“Gentlemen,” Mena greeted in the high toned, pretty magnolia blossom voice of hers. Pure sugar, pure south. “Good morning.”

“Why Miss Mena, you're as pretty as a bluebell this morning,” Benny teased, mocking her southern accent.

She offered him a stern, but sparkling warning look, the corners of her mouth lifted a little like a cat. She looked like she was grateful for the teasing distraction, grateful because otherwise, it was pure mourning and fear that remained should she not have anything to distract her from it. “You may mock me all you want, Mr. Malone, but I lost one of my flock last night and I'm not in the mood. Now, we've buried the poor woman, and we were promised training. The sooner the better, I think.”

“Are you thinking of staying? You and Annie are very welcome to.”

They had gotten the nuns started with whatever makeshift weapons they could find and while the Lieutenant gave them a rifle handling and maintenance crash course, Mena had once more sidled up beside Benny as he stood in the shadows of the eastern side of the church, watching the chaos, while idly thumbing through a small bible he had found in the church.

“You're thinking of the wrong man,” he replied, motioning with his head at the marine. “He's probably yours for life though.”

She smiled. “We love having you here, Mr. Malone. All of you.” She hesitated, before adding, “I sort of forgot how boring convent life can be until you all arrived to shake things up. Granted, we suffered a loss, but...I think we're stronger with you and the Lieutenant and even Annie and Grayson. We're no longer cloistered, we're a community center, a...a home.”

He opened his mouth about to say something, before considering it, finally he relented. “I know a nun's faith is sacred to her, but...why did you become a nun? You seem...unhappy with your lot.”

“I wouldn't say unhappy,” she replied. “I'm ungrateful in a small way. I became a nun to help people. Work missions and aid the poor and those most unfortunate. I suppose, I just...never felt like I was helping much here. Feel sort of immured behind these walls.”

“Immured?”

Before Mena could answer his question, the Lieutenant joined them, easing against the church for a rest in the shade.

“So?” Benny asked him.

“Well, they don't like the idea of hitting anyone, seem hesitant, but I think when push comes to shove they know how to do it.”

Scoffing, Benny turned to Mena. “What about you, debutante? Wanna fight with the others?”

Mena laughed. “I'm afraid I don't care much for fighting.”

“You need to learn how,” he went on.

“I know how to throw a punch, Mr. Malone,” Mena argued gently.

Inhaling calmly, Benny scooped the nun up easily in one move and had her stomach perched on his shoulder as she dangled over it in shock, her legs and knees digging into his chest in shock.

“So you're telling me,” Benny began as Mena struggled to be put down, trying to maintain her dignity while being treated like a sack of flour, “you know how to prevent being carted off by someone like this?”

“Mr. Malone, please?!” Mena shouted, panicked. Her ever calm facade breaking into a sort of girlish embarrassment. Shrill and just a little tremulous.

“Don't break the nun,” the Lieutenant warned with a small grin.

Sensing the rest of the nuns' attention and maybe wanting to cheer them up just a little with a distraction from the death of Sister Mary Patrick, Benny perked a little more, hefting the woman on his shoulder as she squirmed.

“Are you kidding me?” He demanded loudly. “I'm two steps away from giving her a noogie. This is fun. I'm going to hold her down and snicker-snag on her if she can't break away.”

“Don't you dare! Put me down!” Mena shouted as the rest of the nuns began to notice the noise and started wandering over towards them curiously.

“Look at how small she is,” Benny laughed. “I could toss her over the wall into a pile of leaves like a little mouse. Hey, give me a hand, I want to try playing keep-away with this shrimp.”

“Are you seriously bullying me right now, Mr. Malone?” Mena demanded, still draped over his shoulder, her veil fluttering to the ground, all dignity lost. “Lieutenant, please?”

“I can't step into another man's training ring,” the Lieutenant lied. “It's not courteous.”

“Courteous?!” The nun hollered.

“Think if I put her down and follow her she'll lead me to her pot of gold?” Benny asked, spinning with the nun.

A stray knee from the poor nun hit Benny in the mouth and he reeled back a little, blood drawn.

“Alright, play time's over, kids,” the Lieutenant stepped in, moving to take Mena from Benny.

As soon as the Cajun set Mena right again, kneeling to get her veil for her, she was puffing up like a little ruffed grouse and twirling around to poke at Benny in the chest.

He was too distracted by the taste of blood on his lip to notice.

Behind them the nuns that had gathered were all trying to conceal their amusement at the scene, a few of them giggling into their veils, some turning their soft laughter into mild coughs.

“Serves you right,” Mena stated. “The indignity!”

Benny, idly licking at his torn lip, grinned and held his hands up. “Hey, okay. Put the guns away, shrimp, you win.”

“Blood has been drawn, no harm done,” the Lieutenant said. At Mena's sharp look, he amended that statement to a soft, “maybe?”

“I am an Abbess,” Mena snarled, whirling on Benny again, her little finger pointed at him like a rifle. “I deserve a modicum of respect.”

“A what?” Benny asked, pocketing his hands. “Hey, don't get mad, country mouse, you said you could handle yourself, and boy, did you sure prove me wrong.”

“I,” Mena began, a little louder than her normal soft-spoken Southern belle coo. She stopped short and seemed to inhale, calming herself. “I...will not let you goad me into a fight, just to prove myself capable, Mr. Malone.”

“One punch,” he pushed. “Just one solid punch and I'll leave you alone.”

Mena was quiet, still trying to smooth her habit and veil back into place after her manhandling.

“It might give you back a bit of that lost dignity,” Benny added in a whisper, leaning towards her.

“Sock him, Mother!” One of the older nuns shouted.

“And just like that the teachings of peace and forgiveness of Christ have been forgotten,” Mena murmured.

“If you punch him then he'll stop being a bully,” another nun suggested.

“I don't think Sister Mary Patrick would approve of this,” another nun pointed out.

“Like it nothing, she'd love to see this cheeky man popped in his cheeky face,” yet another nun added.

“I will not,” Mena declared. “We are not animals and I refuse to hit a man without due cause.”

“He just picked you up like you were a duffle bag, just hit him in his pretty face and get it all over with,” Sister Mary Agnes, one of the few nuns Benny could tell apart suggested. “I would,” she added, before crossing herself quickly in a form of silent absolution.

“Aw,” Benny gushed. “She thinks I'm pretty. Come on, Abbess, just give me one solid punch and prove yourself capable. Come on,” he went on, “I know there's an animal concealed under those robes of yours, let the lioness out.”

“Lieutenant?” Mena asked.

The tall man sort of took a thoughtful step back on one foot and considered it quietly, before he answered with a simple, “hit him.”

Mena was quiet, sizing up Benny for a bit.

He could see her small hands curling into fists at her side and tightened his jaw to take the hit.

Instead, Mena's hands relaxed and she shook her head, turning to Annie who was watching.

“We don't hit people who don't deserve it,” she explained to the child. “A lady must always take the high road.”

“As short as she is, the high road would be the best option,” Benny murmured.

Mena leveled her chin almost indignantly, still looking at Annie.

“Good for you, Mother,” Mary Elizabeth said. “Remember Matthew 5:39. But I say to you, do not resist an evil person; but whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also.”

“If he keeps taunting her I'll show him both cheeks,” one of the older nuns grumbled.

Benny laughed to himself. He didn't know much about each individual nun yet, but he knew he liked the older nun with just that one sentence.

“We are not a boxing club,” Mena went on. “Though we will train to defend ourselves, senseless violence is never the right path. Despite how much a man may want to be hit by a lady.”

“It's always been my dream,” Benny added playfully.

“I'm gonna hit him for you,” the Lieutenant broke in.

Laughing, Benny backed away, hands up. “Okay, I wanted to get hit, not knocked out today.”

This seemed to break up the gathering, nuns moving off, heading back to their training.

Mena, still a little fired up, remained for a moment.

“No hard feelings, Thumbelina,” Benny said. “I just wanted to see your form.”

“I'm sure you felt enough of my form while I was riding high on your shoulder,” she returned a little bitterly, before walking off.

Benny sidled up beside the Lieutenant, still grinning. “She was real mad.”

“Yeah.”

“Has kind of a temper.”

“Yeah.”

“I kind of liked it.”

“Easy now.”

“Don't tell me you've never thought of picking her up,” Benny went on. “She's so fucking small.”

The Lieutenant smiled. “I mean, I could.”

“Hell yeah, you could. You could pick me up, big guy.” As they walked off, heading for the infirmary, Annie following behind, the fancy man added, “but don't ever fucking try, because I will lay you out.”

Chuckling, the Lieutenant opened the infirmary door for the shorter man and said, “you could never, little fancy man.”

Inside the infirmary Grayson sat on his cot, reading a well-thumbed copy of some real crime book, looking bored and still angry.

“Hey kid,” Benny greeted. “You need to learn some fighting too or do you think you'll pull some karate moves out of your ass when the time comes?”

“Could kick your ass,” the kid grumbled.

“Want to give it a try?” Benny offered sincerely. “See what you got?”

“You have, like, thirty years on me, think I'd win, grandpa,” Grayson replied.

“Only one way to find out.”

“You think you'll be ready to head out tomorrow morning?” The Lieutenant asked the kid, playing his part perfectly to Benny's delight. At least the marine had a poker face. “We have to get to that airfield before noon if we want to find proper camp before dark.”

“I was ready two days ago, what have you two been doing?”

“Keeping these nuns safe first and foremost,” Benny said. “You know, about eleven lives versus one? Using our brains.”

Grayson glowered at him.

“Can the shitty attitude, we're trying,” Benny went on firmly.

“Tomorrow,” the Lieutenant said firmly, breaking up the tension, “we will continue on the hunt for these men. Right now, I have to head out to get something for dinner for all of us.”

“Not taking your life partner with you?” Grayson asked.

“Surprisingly progressive, kid,” Benny mused, folding his arms. “I don't even think it's an insult.”

“More observational than insulting,” the Lieutenant added.

“You could do worse than me,” Benny teased.

“Could do better too, paon.” The marine retorted dryly, offering Benny a small grin as he grabbed up his rifle. “Don't kill each other while I'm gone, yeah?”

“Can I hang him from a flag pole again?” Benny asked. “Seems to be the best way to take the bite out of him.”

“Fuck you, Benny,” Grayson growled.

“That is no way to speak to your elders, son!” Benny replied.

“Come on, kid. Let's head out for a hunt.” The Lieutenant said, stepping in calmly.

Grayson jumped up, eager to finally help, but couldn't resist grumbling, “don't call me 'kid', old man.”

“Don't call me old, son,” the Lieutenant murmured, ducking out of the infirmary after the boy.

Alone in the infirmary now with Annie, Benny inhaled and turned to her.

“You like those two?”

She shrugged.

Looking at the child in his care, Benny wanted to say something to her, to emote. But emotions were never his thing, once he opened that pandora's box they wouldn't stop. So he reached out and ruffled her hair, the two puffs on top, at least.

He liked the kid, he really did. Hell, he could almost admit to himself that he loved her and if it wasn't for circumstances and his fucking weak need to be helpful, he wouldn't be leaving her at the convent.

There were mornings, before they ran into the marine, that he would wake up from light, cautious sleep, to find her sitting up and watching him.

She never said much, and he always wondered what was going on in her undeveloped little noodle, she didn't even really speak much even when Laila was with them. Horrors, he assumed, something that kept Laila on edge and wary of their surroundings, haunted the two of them and when Benny found the mother and child, or rather when they had found him, they were almost feral.

He assumed it was something to do with the wedding ring on Laila's finger, of the way it took Annie months to finally take his hand without him telling her to.

She kept close to him now, she had lost her father – as far as Benny knew, and now her mother and the child was wafting on the breeze, drifting around with no moorings. Nothing to tether her to safety and comfort, but for him.

And Benny hated that it had to be him that poor girl relied on. He wasn't reliable, not to people who loved him – at least. He had cut his moorings a long time ago, or...maybe they had rotted with Valerie. Moldering in the grave with his beautiful wife, her cold hands clutching the last strands of the rope that had kept him from drifting.

He didn't mind being tethered by Valerie, he liked it even. Whenever he'd go off and come home, he had a home to come to. She would be there, bright and smiling, her flower garden always in bloom, it seemed, even in the cold Rhode Island winters, when the wind came across the Atlantic frigid and cruel.

She had died in the winter, or the early spring, rather. March. The witches tit of a month, the cold, brown spring.

Valerie wanted to be buried, not cremated, so they had to wait another month before she could be buried.

Benny was gone long before that. He had left the night she died, just walked away.

He liked the poetic idea of their beautiful home and everything in it rotting with his wife, like the idea of her garden drying up and withering. No one deserved her things, or her garden or even dare come near anywhere she had walked.

If he could, he would have built a stone wall, higher than the one that kept them safe at the convent, wider than it needed to be, all around Rhode Island. He would have kept everyone from that state. It would become a shrine to Valerie. His angel. Patient and sweet and everything he didn't fucking deserve.

So with no option to do any of that, he burned Rhode Island from his mind, it didn't exist in his world. It was a crater, with his wife dead in the center.

Everything he owned, everything that remained clinging to him when he walked away, was thrown into the ocean to fucking disappear. Except for his wedding band, wrapped like a napkin ring around a rolled-up photo of her, that he kept in his sock, secured by the knife strap he wore.

When he began to feel too alive, he would torment himself, like a form of self-harm, only instead of cutting his body, he wounded his soul. He would unroll that photo and wear that ring and he would feel every moment of sorrow all over again.

Was that healthy? Was grieving like that right? No. He knew it was sick.

But life was fucking sick, because she was good and he was not, and she died, starving to death because the cancer that had started in her uterus had swept viciously through her body, into her stomach and everything she ate, would be thrown up, black and diseased. And she withered fast, like a rose when the frost touches it.

But she didn't wither fast enough not to suffer.

And even now, with the fucking infected, or the dead, whoever you asked, when they ravaged and tore people apart, he somehow lived. At first, he wanted to live, it was human nature to fight to survive.

Valerie wanted to live too, and she died. So he would live for her if only to eat all the pain he couldn't eat of hers.

And then he had Annie and Laila, and while they were never anything more than people surviving together, Benny had formed an attachment, the first kind of real attachment to the two of them. He had begun to re-weave that tether that had rotted away from Valerie and then one morning, Laila was just gone.

She had left a note, she always did when she went out on her own to scavenge.

But she never came back.

And Benny felt another tether begin to rot.

He was a man struggling to hold on to a handful of sand in a wind storm.

So he held Annie's tether tight because he knew she held his just as tight.

Yes. He did love the child.

He wished the world was better for her, but he thanked the chaos and the randomness of numbers that he had her, and if these men had Laila, if she fell prey to them, he would get her back if she was alive and he would hand over the tether that Annie held that connected to him, back to her mother.

But he was still stunted and fucked up emotionally, so all of this, loving the kid and wanting everything for her, came out in a hand rubbing the top of her head. Because Benny's parents didn't hug and Benny didn't know what to do with a child, he and Valerie had never had one and they never talked about having one. And then she died and he had never been around children except when he was one.

So he tousled her hair and thought to himself that maybe someday he'd be able to express himself to someone else.

Maybe someday Rhode Island would exist on his maps again. Maybe Valerie would finally rest in peace because he could move on and grow and learn to be a human being.

Or maybe he would die trying to get Laila back to her mother and that girl back to her brother and maybe there would be no lesson for him to learn, no more room for him to grow.

Maybe Georgia would become to Annie what Rhode Island was to Benny. Not because of him, he didn't assume the child held any love for him, she was only clinging to him because she was lost, no perhaps she would bury Georgia behind a wall, because of her mother, because of her father, because of the dead and because every day she woke up, she had to see a corpse.

No child should ever have to live in a real nightmare.

Or.

Or maybe someday, Annie would stitch Georgia back together, maybe there could be hope for her future. The dead were thinning out and maybe her mother would return and maybe she'd find happiness, though he knew she would still have nightmares about the dead, he had nightmares about the dead, about Laila and Valerie and Annie, all roaming across the wastelands of his dreams, their eyes cloudy, milky with rot, because the cornea's had no blood flow, their fingertips turning black, their skin waxy and bloated.

Since it had begun, Benny had seen too many children among the dead, small forms, corpses that hungered, but never seemed to eat, only tear and shred and maim.

The thing was, the dead or the infected didn't make very loud sounds. They shuffled and they slogged, their feet dragging, but they didn't moan like the movie zombies, they would give off mewl-like moans. Something almost like the air just rising up from their bloated bellies. It was soft enough to miss if you weren't listening for it. And it wasn't often like they were sleeping and then would moan or when they mimicked and exhale of air. They were near silent forms moving like manifest destiny towards eternity.

Beside him, Annie was very much alive and he would make sure she stayed that way. Benny was nothing if resourceful and he could use those resources to the best of his ability.

If brute strength and survival were what the Lieutenant did best, Benny's abilities were subversive action and artful manipulation.

#novel #support an author #Graveyard Dirt & Salt #zombies #sorry it took me a while to post my friends and supporters i had some mental health set backs due to being laid off and jobless #but im back!

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themaskedwriter · 5 years ago

Text

The Screen

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Your whole life is movies, down to the job that you have and where you live. When a mysterious stranger comes into the movie theatre that you own, will your life become a romance? Or something else?

Word Count: 4055

Warnings: Some fluff. Some angst. Pop culture references. Made up movies to suit the plot.

Clues:

1) I have as many letters as numbers in my URL

2) I have three Queens, but only one of them is real

3) I do love a crossover

The movie theatre was a juxtaposition for the senses. In the lobby; scents of popcorn, salt, butter, the overwhelming smell of hot cheese for the nachos and a sweeter smell of mustard and ketchup for hot dogs, and all of this overlaid by sugar from the candy and chocolate available for the kids. Sounds too were rife, children yelling excitedly about the movies they were about to see, parents yelling even louder for them to hush, couples and friends giggling and debating about possible plot lines…

Once inside the screen, however, calm would reign. The movie playing could be noisy, perhaps an action film which deployed explosions and gunshots as often as a comedy would deploy laugh out loud gags. Or perhaps it was a romance, or a thriller, or a horror designed to make you whimper and scream in your seat. It didn’t matter however. The people within the screen who watched the stories unfold would always be silent. Mesmerised by lives that weren’t theirs, dizzying highs and heart-breaking lows. Set underwater, in space, in far off nations that these people would never get the chance to visit.

The screen was a whole other dimension for the senses. A sea of calm amongst the craziness of today’s life. It didn’t matter what type of life you lead, who you were before you entered that screen and watched those stories unfold for the price of $20 including your snacks…

The screen was a safe space for all.

••••••••••••

The first time you saw him, he barely registered to you. The Screen, the name of your movie theatre, was packed. The newest Disney film was out and families had flocked from all over Brooklyn to pay to see it. Kids excitedly trying to cajole their parents into gifting them with just one more candy bar, or pleeeaaase can they have the animated animal themed soda glass? All of this made you smile, your heart light. This was what having a movie theatre was all about.

Making people happy.

Families were everywhere, which was why he stood out to you. Tall, dark shoulder length chestnut hair mostly hidden under a black baseball cap and, most tellingly, he was alone.

You took a second look, mainly out of idle curiosity, he wouldn’t be the first person to come to the movies by himself, but your eyes came up empty. With barely a pause for breath, you mentally shrug and continue to serve the popcorn.

He must’ve changed his mind.

••••••••••••

The second time, the man stayed and bought a ticket, but he went to Faith, your employees register. He didn’t go to see the film about the action hero that everyone was raving about, instead he went into the quieter screen with almost no people, showing the lesser known period movie about a WW2 sweeping romance. Again, you forgot him within minutes, the only thing that played on your mind was that for someone as tall as he was, he seemed to shrink into the background spectacularly well.

Two hours later and the five people, including the man in the black cap, came out. Black Cap was the only one alone, and he looked far more affected by the plot than the others.

“Did you enjoy the movie?”

You had no idea where the question came from, your usual practice was to smile benignly at the customers as they left and give them a generic thank you to top it off.

There was something in his eyes though… they were red rimmed… the man must’ve really been affected by the plot. Those swollen and- blue, such a pretty blue - shadowed eyes swung to yours…

Time stopped for a moment.

You had never felt such a jolt at just a look before. A string connected you, you felt like one of those romantic comedy heroines that you pretended to hate but secretly loved so much. The handsome stranger stared at you, right into your soul, and-

“I hated this movie. Completely inaccurate.”

The spell broke.

Your lips twist in disdain, “I’m so sorry you feel that way, sir. My understanding is that it is hard to accurately portray the horrors of war on screen in a way that really shows what it was like. And what’s wrong with a little love during such a terrible time?”

Black Cap rolled his eyes, scoffed, and walked out of your theatre without a backwards glance.

“Ummm… do you usually go out of your way to be an ass to potential repeat customers, boss?”

The tentative sound of Faith’s voice brought your attention to him, and you shake your head, “Is that any way to talk to your boss?”

Faith just shrugged, completely unbothered. To be honest, it was one of the reasons you liked the young woman so much. You grin at her and sigh, your shoulders slumping in sudden exhaustion when you see the time, “Oh god, I was a bit of an ass, wasn’t I? I just-”

“Yeah yeah, ‘movies are escapism, not real life,’ I get it, boss,” Faith mocked your saying and continued to clean out the popcorn machine, “The man was hot though, sure would’ve liked to see him again…”

Faith was right, of course. Black Cap had been a stone cold ten, you were just realising to yourself, but that wasn’t why you were hoping he might return, and not because of the potential repeat business either. Someone as sad as this man deserved to see movies that made him happy. To escape from whatever put those shadows under his eyes.

Your thoughts continue to drift to him, and you and Faith close up and head home.

••••••••••••

It was another two weeks before you saw him again, this time he had come in to see a film critics were destroying, but fans all over were absolutely adoring. This one was about a lone ex soldier taking down a government conspiracy. Filled with explosions, violence and one very gratuitous sex scene.

You, personally, had loved every ridiculous second.

Black Cap came up to your stand, keeping his eyes down, “Can I get a ticket for Saviour, please?”

“Sure, would you like any snacks with that? A drink? My opinion on the movie shoved down your throat, perhaps?”

Black Cap - you really needed to find a better nickname - finally looked up at you in shock, confusion creased the space in between his eyes for a moment, and then he smiled. It changed his whole face into something beyond handsome and dark and into… you didn’t have the words for it, but your heartbeat fluttered almost painfully against your rib cage as you saw it.

“Word on the street is that a movie like this shouldn’t be taken seriously,” Black Cap remarked casually, and pointed behind you at the popcorn, “Can I get some buttered, please?”

He was one of the last people to head to the screen, so you took your time getting his treat, “Something like this plot is so outrageous, all you should do is watch for the fun of it. Just leave your brain at the door and enjoy, you know?”

You turn, smile stretched across your face and hands filled with the gigantic bucket of popcorn, to see an unreadable look on the man’s face. He didn’t look angry, not like the last time, but he did look…

“What if it’s not outrageous? What if shit like this actually happened? How would you feel then?”

Black Cap took the popcorn, staring intently at you, as if the answer you would give was important to him. You felt it again, that string, pulling tighter. Your answer came unbidden, straight from the heart.

“They had to get this plot from somewhere, right? I would just like to think that, if something like this did happen in real life, that everyone involved got a sappy and happy ending like they do in this film,” A gasp escapes you and you cover your mouth, “Oops! Spoiler alert!”

Black Cap blinks, and that devastating smile returns to his face, “That’s okay. I like knowing that they got a happy ending.”

This time, when he came out, he stopped and talked about the movie with you. Faith kept giving you guys looks and smirks as you talked.

••••••••••••

Months went on, Black Cap, who you eventually learned was actually named James, would come to your screen maybe twice a month. He would always come in to the last show of the evening and he would always be alone, a fact that you tried to stop yourself feeling relieved about, but the feeling came unbidden, regardless.

What started out as a few words before and after each movie, turned into longer discussions post movie and James helping you to lock up. Soon, James was coming in just to speak to you, to keep you company, and you were able to let Faith leave earlier on those nights, much to the brunettes delight.

Eventually, James offered to walk you home, citing the need to keep an eye on you after dark, and you chuckled, feeling heat spread across your cheeks at his concern, “I actually live in the apartment upstairs, so there’s no need to worry about me walking the streets all on my lonesome, James.”

“Oh,” James had removed his cap, was spinning it idly in his hands and suddenly looking awkward, “right. That’s good. Uh… okay, well, it’s late. I better go.”

“Do you want to come up? I always need a while to unwind after work, I usually put on a movie, you could join, if you want?”

The air became charged again, but you felt more awkward than anything else, what exactly had you been thinking?! You barely knew the man! Of course he was going to say no-

“Really?” James interrupted your inner scolding, “What, uhhh… what movie were you thinking? I don’t wanna impose.”

“I’m feeling actiony tonight, maybe The Terminator?”

“Haven’t seen that, sounds good to me,”

You’re too busy spinning away and turning off lights in mortification at using the term “actiony” to notice how James went pale at the mention of “Terminator”.

You were surprised at how easy it was to have him in your little one bed apartment, and you were more than relieved that you had cleaned up earlier in the day.

“This is really nice.”

“Thanks, I love it.”

You start heading to the back and your bedroom, indicating the kitchen where James could make a drink, “This place was my Grandfathers, he built The Screen up from scratch back in the forties, it’s one of the only original movie theatres left from that time in Brooklyn.”

You’re busy pulling off your work uniform, and grabbing up your sweatpants and comfy t-shirt to fully hear James’s reply, but it sounded oddly like “I remember.”

“Huh? Remember what?”

The apartment being so small, it took you scant seconds to get back to James, finding him staring at your table of photographs, holding one up of you and your grandfather outside The Screen when you were maybe fifteen. Before his dementia had taken his memories of you, but not before he had passed his love of this place to you, or gifted the whole place to you in his will.

James’s smile was oddly wistful as he put the photo down, “I Uh… remember reading about this place. At school, I think. History class?”

“Oh.”

“This place reminds me of somewhere I used to go, way back when I was a kid, with my best friend. The guy who ran it, younger than you would think, he caught us sneaking in one time,” James chuckled fondly, but his eyes, those pretty, pretty eyes, they shone bright with tears, “made us learn how to change the reels and clean and tidy them. We worked a whole summer there, and he gave us free tickets after that.”

“Maybe he knew Pops,” You remark, softly, “Sounds like a story he told me ages ago about helping two kids out one summer.”

You’re fussing with the remotes, setting up the movie, and don’t see how James, once again, goes pale.

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this movie, James!” You flop back onto the couch, patting the spare seat for him to sit, “It’s probably one of my favourite movies eveeeeer!”

James smirks and rolls his eyes at you, placing himself in the seat carefully after he removes his jacket, “Uhhh, excuse me, but not all of us grew up with movies on demand, ya know? Some of us were… busy.”

“Who the hell is too busy to watch classics every once in a while?”

The movie enraptured you, as ever you’re fascinated by the time travel, how Sarah Connor is swept up into a whole new life due to a choice she hadn’t even made yet. The way she starts out as an every-woman style character and eventually becomes such a badass called to you. And then, of course, there was Kyle Reese. The crush you had always harboured for him burned… especially when you realised that James looked just a little bit like him…

Tension fills the air again, your concentration on the movie starts to waver. You’re so close to James, and you just hadn’t appreciated before, how big he was. Your upper arms were almost touching, and the long sleeved top he wore did very little to hide the definition of the large bicep muscles he had.

“This movie is insane.”

You jump slightly, the scene where Kyle had confessed his love had just happened, igniting more than the usual amount of tension for you. James was so close, and he was clearly as tense as you… Those pretty blue eyes stayed on the screen and didn’t turn to you, however, so you answer, trying to break the tension you were feeling, “Well, yeah, it’s about a time travelling cyborg sent to kill a woman before she can give birth to the man who will stop a war between artificial intelligence and humans in the future. And,” You add as an afterthought, “the poor woman isn’t even pregnant… well, yet.”

You’re trying to joke, the antics on the screen showed that the moment of conception was very, very imminent.

“That’s not what I mean.” James’s jaw clenches, his eyes trained on the screen, “How can a woman like Sarah ever feel comfortable with Reese? His world… she’s always in so much danger, and it’s because of him.”

“You can’t help who you fall in love with, James.”

You tilt your head along the back of the couch and, after a moment, James turns to look at you too, blue eyes burning with something you can’t name.

“If Reese had just left her alone, the Terminator wouldn’t have needed to try and kill her. He should’ve stayed away.”

“She went into everything with her eyes wide open, James. And she loved him, she wanted to help him, too.”

That connection came again, the string pulling at your heart, and this time you could see that James felt it too. His teeth caught his bottom lip, the plump pink flesh turned white under the pressure… you couldn’t take your eyes off him if you tried…

“I have secrets, Y/N… I shouldn’t be here. I should go.”

He didn’t leave, though, or make any movement to indicate that he would.

“We all have secrets, James,” your left hand inched forward, towards his right hand in the gloves he still wore and he never took off, “but you don’t have to carry them alone.”

“I’m not a good guy. I’ll only hurt you.”

This was it, you could tell that he was serious, and he was trying to give you an out. But you thought of everything you knew about him. How he tried to melt into the shadows at The Screen, but how he smiled gently at the children that had dropped their candy on the floor at his feet that one time, and how he had paid for them to get more.

You thought about how he had raved about the Pixar film he had watched, all the emotions he had felt while watching it, and how he blushed when he said he “wished Stevie had been there with him.”

And you thought about his gloves, and his hats. That he had been some kind of soldier who was dealing with a lot and used your Screen as a way to escape the violence of his past was clear to you. He hid because he was scarred, probably physically as well as figuratively. None of this was your business, though. He would tell you when, and if, he was ready. Until then…

You take his hand. James stiffens at the contact… but doesn’t pull away.

“James… you could never hurt me the way that the ending of this film does.”

This time, your joke lands, and his nose scrunches up at you in a chuckle. It was a bad joke, but that was the point, to make his serious look go away. The string pulled tight again as you both laugh, and the distance between you both closes.

The press of your lips to his is everything you had hoped, and your eyelids flutter closed at the deep groan that rumbles up from James’s chest. As far as first kisses go… you knew none would ever top this one.

••••••••••••

Days later, and you’re in the middle of the late afternoon rush, but never has the sound of people demanding their escapism sounded so sweet as it did in that moment.

James is hanging around, shooting sweet glances at you, waiting for the moment where you would take your break and go outside with him. Most days since your kiss, he would come and meet you, kissing you sweetly and bringing you a flower, or a box of chocolates, old school gestures of courtship that made your heart flutter and your lips never stop pulling up into a smile.

You already knew you loved him. That he wanted to take his time with you and what you both had, only made you love him more. What that man had been through, what you assumed he had been through… who were you to ever push someone like that for more? You would wait as long as he needed to share his body, his soul and his secrets.

Your watch tells you that you have five more minutes, and you gesture to Faith who fondly rolls her eyes whilst taking the ticket and snack order of the man and his girlfriend in front of her. You don’t notice how the man keeps on looking over at James, or how he is suddenly very interested in bringing up CNN on his cell phone.

You only notice that he drags his girlfriend away and out of the door, not paying for the tickets that Faith holds in her hand, her brown eyes wide in frustration, “Rude goddamn jackass! What a waste of popcorn and soda!”

“Oh,” A frown creases the space in between your eyes and you shrug, “just take it for yourself, Faith. He probably had some bad news.”

James came to the counter, looking over his shoulder at the door the couple had vacated, “What the hell was his problem?”

“Asshole muttered something about an escaped convict and fuckin’ ran outta here like a bat out of hell,” another low growl, then, “this isn’t a goddamn movie. Escaped convicts aren’t a real thing!”

The way the man had behaved didn’t bother you anymore, all you could think about was spending time with the amazing man on your left, and you grab his hand, starting to walk to the staff exit, “People are weird, you know that, hon. Okay, I’ll be back in twenty, you okay here?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Wait.”

You look up at James, who was now rubbing his eyes frantically, “Ummmm… rain check, doll? I… I don’t feel so good all of a sudden, probably ate something bad at work.”

Concern fills you, it was possible, James works at a small takeout restaurant in the kitchen, he often eats there to save money and, well, it wasn’t the cleanest of places. You often wondered why he would want to work somewhere with such a shady reputation.

Maybe it was just because it was quiet and he didn’t have to talk to people.

“Sure!” You say quickly, “If you don’t feel well!”

James can’t meet your eyes… he really did look pale…

“I, uh…” he seems to wrestle with himself, his eyes going from the exit to his shoes and to a point over your right shoulder, “I’m so sorry, Y/N… I w-wish I could’ve been different… ummm, I mean, I wish I wasn’t sick.”

“You can’t help getting a bug,” you narrow your eyes, “James, what’s wrong? Are you-?”

“I have to go.”

He pulls you into his arms, suddenly, the kiss he lays on you is sudden, deep, filled with emotions you’re too shocked to unravel, so you just kiss him back, holding onto his biceps with a desperate grip.

You knew he had a prosthetic arm, he told you a while back… a spark of something went off in your brain, a knowledge…

“I’m so sorry, darlin’… I love you.”

His lips left yours, his arms unwound themselves from around your shoulders and waist, and your fingers slip from the warm strength of his body. Without a backwards glance, James left you in the foyer of The Screen.

“He’s sick. He’ll be back.”

Faith doesn’t respond. But there was no need. Barely fifteen minutes later and your Screen is filled with SWAT and agents from branches of the government you had never heard of.

James was James Buchanan Barnes, aka; The Winter Soldier. He was responsible for god only knows how many murders and assassinations.

And you had fallen in love with him.

••••••••••••

So many questions. So many accusations. James Buchanan Barnes has been in your Screen, in your home, so many times over the last few months, and you had no idea about who he was?

It didn’t matter to them that you had only seen the good sides of him, that the Winter Soldier side wasn’t his true face. They dragged you into some dark room and held you for questioning for what felt like days.

You couldn’t give him up. You didn’t know anything and, in your heart of hearts, you knew that even if you did, you wouldn’t tell them anything.

There wasn’t any point, anyway. James was gone forever…

You get home, they release you and make you sign forms threatening prison or worse if you say anything about who was frequenting your establishment. Exhaustion pulls at every single muscle, screaming at you to fall into the blissful oblivion of sleep.

Your head hits the pillow… and you hear the crackle of paper. Frantically, you pull the hidden letter out from the pillowcase and hold it up to read;

Y/N,

I’m never going to be able to apologise enough. I just wanted to go somewhere that I remembered, that held only good memories for me. I knew your Pops, way back when.

I wish I could say that I hate myself for sticking around, for talking to you and learning about this amazing woman who kept Pop’s dream alive and knows more about movies than she does about math.

But I don’t.

I’m a selfish prick, but I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing about meeting you and getting to hold something so good in my arms for the first time in a very long time.

I want you to know, your Screen, your love, it gave me hope for the first time since before the war. I’m keeping it with me wherever I go.

I do love you, Y/N. It’s just funny how I now hate that I turned out to be Kyle and not the Terminator.

I won’t be back. I won’t do that to you.

Thank you for everything, Y/N.

Yours, always,

Bucky.

Tears fall, ink runs, and your heart breaks.

Turns out your life could be like a movie after all, it just wasn’t the type you

#fic

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bucky-on-a-bike · 5 years ago

Text

Unexpecting (3/?)

Super soldiers don’t get stomach bugs. No one believes you when you tell them you’ll be fine in a few more days, so your loving husband Bucky makes you go to the doctor. Turns out, you’ve got a parasite.

Words: 1485

Warnings: Language. The beginning of Angst.

Part 2 . . . Part 4

When you woke up in the morning, Bucky was walking around the room getting dressed. He looked so handsome in the morning light. You sat up in bed and pulled your knees to your chest, admiring your husband as he got ready for work.

“I love you, ya know,” you mumbled. A sleepy smile spread over your face as you thought about the baby growing inside you. “Hey Buck?”

He glanced up briefly from tying his shoes. “Yeah babe?”

“What would you think about us having a baby? Don’t you think it would be wonderful to have a little one around to love and play with?” Your eyes focused a little better and you could see Bucky frozen in place, shoelaces half way tied.

He let out the breath he had been holding and finished his shoes. “I think that’s a hypothetical situation that we don’t need to worry about. We’ve got enough on our plates right now between work and you being sick. What time do you go to meet up with Banner today? I’m looking forward to knowing what’s going on with my beautiful wife.” He walked over to the bed and sat down beside you, a small half-smile on his face.

You blinked at him and cleared your throat. “Well, uh, I guess whenever I get up and get there, that’s what time my appointment will be. Are you going to be back here for dinner tonight?”

He patted your leg and pushed up off the bed. “Yeah, I should be back around 5. Do you think you would enjoy going out to eat somewhere? We haven’t gone on a date night in a long while.” He kissed you deeply before walking to his dresser to get the rest of his gear for the day.

“I would love a date night. Just, I don’t want anything that smells fishy or overly pungent. Maybe… a good old-fashioned hamburger sounds good. And some fries. Waffle-cut fries with salt sounds so good…Oh! Or maybe sweet potato fries! Or both?” You looked up at Bucky to see him cocking an eyebrow at you. “I mean, or anything really. I would be good with whatever you have in mind. I don’t really have a strong opinion one way or another.”

He laughed at you. “Whatever your heart desires, doll, is what you’ll get for dinner. I’ll get you all the different kinds of fries you want to eat if it makes you feel better and happy. I love you, I’ll see you at 5.”

You giggled and blew him a kiss. “I love you, and I’ll see you tonight, stud. Tell Steve I said hello.”

The door closed behind Bucky and you heaved a sigh, the smile dropping off your face in record time. I don’t think he wants a baby at all. I don’t know how this is going to work, but it has to.

You got up, brushed your hair, and put on some sweat pants and a loose tank top. You texted Nat that you were headed to see Bruce and she immediately replied that she would meet you there. You smiled and off you went to discover your future.

. . . . .

You walked into Bruce’s office and he and Nat walked over to wrap you in a group hug.

“First of all,” Nat said, “I’d just like to congratulate you on the baby and I want you to know that when you tell the others, they’ll be just as excited as we are for you. I am so proud of you and I really am so happy to walk with you through all of these changes. I know Bucky isn’t here for the first ultrasound, but I’ll hold your hand and we can tell him all about it after tonight.” She stopped talking and wiped a tear from her cheek. Grinning at you, she took your hand and led you over to the chair.

Bruce tilted it back so you were basically lying down and lifted your shirt above your belly. He asked you, blushing, to pull your sweats down a little so he could access all he needed to for the ultrasound.

“Now, this gel is going to be cold, and I might have a bit of a hard time finding the baby because it’s been a little while since I’ve done this procedure. Don’t worry though, ‘cause I remember all of the information. I do. I’m just a little rusty maybe.” He laughed nervously and grabbed the gel. “Remember, cold.”

You sucked in a deep breath when the ice cold blue gel hit your stomach. All of a sudden, this situation was even more real than it had been moments before.

“Oh…Nat…I’m pregnant…holy shit…” you mumbled as Bruce began probing your tummy with the wand. You reached over and grabbed her hand, clinging on for dear life.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” asked Nat.

“No, why?” you whispered back

“Then why are you grabbing me so hard?” Nat bit back a laugh. “Its fine, you hold on as hard as you need to. Bruce will tell you when to push.”

“Nat! Shut up, not funny! I’m nervous!”

“Ladies, please. I just found the baby.” Bruce turned the monitor around and the world froze. There, in black and white, was your baby. Absolutely breathtakingly beautiful. “It’s about the size of a blueberry right now. You’re only about seven weeks along, so the best due date I can give you is…January thirteenth. Do you want a picture of this?”

You slowly nodded to him. “Seven weeks…it’s a blueberry…having it in Januberry…Nat?”

She giggled at you. “Yeah?”

“I’m gonna throw up.” And you did. Right into the bucket she thrust in front of your face. You puked and puked until even Bruce was amazed there was anything left to come up.

“That shouldn’t be possible…” he muttered as he busied himself in the opposite corner of the room.

Once you regained your composure, you cleaned up and walked over to the printer. Laying right there was a perfect shot of your little baby. Nat hugged you gently from behind as she looked over your shoulder. “You should be so happy and proud, Y/n. You got the little miracle you’ve been dreaming of.”

“I know.” You rested your hand over you belly where you imagined your baby would be. “Nat, Bucky and I are going on a date tonight. I think I’m gonna tell him then. Will you help me get dressed after I take a nap?”

“Oh my gosh, of course! I’ll be there around…3:30? I’ll wake you up, too, hun. Don’t even worry about a thing, I’ll do your hair and makeup and we can find a stunning dress for you to wear.” She let go of you and walked over to Bruce. She gave him a hug and took your hand. The two of you thanked him as you left, all three of you beaming. Babies really did bring joy.

. . . . .

Several hours later, you sat in the recliner chair in your living room and waited for Bucky. The card you had written him with the picture inside was stashed in your purse, and you could sense it weighing on you. Just as you were closing your eyes to rest, Bucky came in the door.

“Hello, doll!” he exclaimed.

He startled you so badly you jumped and dropped your purse, everything spilling out on the floor around you. “Oh, crap!” you said as you started scurrying to pick up all your things. Your eyes were scanning wildly for the card, hoping to get to it before your husband did. You couldn’t find it, though.

Bucky was on the floor with you in seconds, helping gather pens and lipstick and other things. But all his motion stopped when he picked up the card from under the coffee table.

“Y/n? Why did you get a card for me? It’s just a date.” He laughed and started to pull the envelope open, but paused a moment to look into your wide eyes. “Uh, is it ok if I open it? I can wait until later if you would rather?”

“Um, well, no. No, you’re more than welcome to go ahead and open it.” You clasped your hands in front of you to keep them from shaking too noticeably. “Just be careful ‘cause it’s really important.”

He looked at you questioningly and slowly finished opening the powder blue envelope. He pulled out the card and smirked. “Father’s Day is a couple weeks away. And I ain’t a dad. Why did you get me this card?” When he finished reading the front and opened the card, the smirk melted away. “Y/n, what the fuck is this? Is this some kind of sick joke?” He glared up at you and your heart sank to the floor.

Please, not like this…I have to be stuck in a nightmare.

TAGS: @buckysberrie, @100acresofwood, @whatsbetterthanfantasy, @dracodormiensnunquamtitillandush @bellenuit45, @ificouldhelpyouforget, @38leticia, @thisisthelilith, @englishwriter15

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic

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bettsfic · 5 years ago

Note

I'm so curious! Why did you not like the Good Omens TV show/think it wasn't great? I haven't watched it yet.

oh boy. this is like when i came out of wonder woman thinking “why does everything like this? that was terrible” but then i couldn’t say anything about it because everyone seemed to enjoy it but me. so please take this with a bucket of salt, that i’m just extremely critical and my opinion is worthless.

i’ve written before about how i’m not a fan of neil gaiman’s writing, which i think is extremely overrated, and tbh i think this is just more of the same. it’s all style and no substance. watching good omens felt like sitting with a group of people who all know each other really well, and i can kind of understand their inside jokes, but i’m not in on them. i felt very much like an outsider the entire time. moreover, it’s a cool concept executed poorly. the main conflict has almost nothing to do with the main characters, and all the characters -- again, while cool in concept -- felt incredibly one-dimensional to me, and didn’t change or grow. crowley and aziraphale are the same characters at the beginning as they are at the end, and the entire story felt very happenstance.

my biggest beef with most things i watch is that i have nothing to hang onto. to get me invested in a story, i usually need a character who desperately needs or wants something, who feels human and real and within reach. someone i can care about and root for and trust. but crowley and aziraphale -- as good as the acting was -- never felt like anything more than storybook characters with a cool backstory. the only time i was really engaged was the first half hour of episode 3, where we got to see their history. i was about to be engaged when the bookstore burned down, and when crowley lost his car, but then they came back and moreover, there was no mourning those things anyway. i just couldn’t care about anything that was happening. there was no beating heart to it.

but what i’ve been really enjoying is all the fanon content and metas, fanpeople are putting the missing heart into it, and making me invested in the characters via their interpretations. ultimately i enjoyed watching it because it was pretty moving colors on a screen, but i couldn’t say i cared about or was moved by anything that happened, and i wanted to be. even an episode of spongebob has more heart in it.

this review says a lot of the same things i just did but way more eloquently.

anyway obvs this is just my take, and again, i cannot emphasize enough: my opinion means nothing. if you liked the show, i hope you continue liking it/making content/what have you.

#negativity #Anonymous

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beer-me-strcngth · 5 years ago

Text

Something Wicked This Way Comes

When: June 22 Where: By the river Who: Bree & Eerb (Please forgive the lack of editing on this, I’ll update it at a later date I just wanted to get it posted for now)

The river is placid today, its surface calmer than usual and sparkling under the midday sun. Birds chirp in the trees on the island’s shoreline. Summer heat settles over everything, blanketing it in humidity that manages to be almost pleasant, if still a little stifling. The current begins to pick up, gradually at first, but then the river starts to rush. Waves form on its surface. A figure comes skating through them, light bouncing off of her sun-bleached hair. Her feet are bare, floating upon water which bends perfectly to her whims. Her grin is wild and her laughter unbridled; seaweed strands are tangled up in her hair, and a fine film of salt coats her suntanned skin wherever it hasn’t recently been splashed. Despite all the little details, Bree may as well be looking into the flat waters of a clear lake, or a perfectly clean mirror - this person is a perfect reflection of her. When she opens her mouth to speak, even her accent is the same. “You look like you could be having a lot more fun right now.”

Bree blinks at the alternate version of herself -- part of her had been preparing for this since the others had their encounters, but it was still weird. Really weird. "Riiiight. Sure, okay. If this is a parent trap type situation and you're here to tell me that your mom has a picture with half of my dad's face and we're twins separated at birth, I'm gonna need a drink."

"I wish. How funny would that be?" She laughs. Liberty in a single sound. The water around her shifts like it finds Bree amusing, too. "We're not really twins. I mean, I guess we are? In a sense? But not literally in a shared-a-womb way. Besides, I'm too busy doing whatever I want to worry too much about schemes and hijinks. There are always waves to catch and magic to use, you know."

"Sure, I guess. But have you tried schemes and hijinks? They're pretty awesome," Bree said, moving closer to the water. "Like, recently I put out a bunch of catnip for a friend who... you know what, long story. Complicated story. But I digress. You know rivers aren't really great for surfing, right? White water rafting, maybe."

"I remember the catnip! That was fantastic. Aeron never quite puts that in the past, watch out." Her hands are on her hips and she wiggles her toes in the water, perfectly at ease suspended just above it. "I'd be on the open ocean now, but you happen to be on a river. You make do with what you've got. Actually, I'd rather be in the Bermuda Triangle." Her eyes are alight with mischief. "Once, just for fun, I pulled the whole area into a giant whirlpool and sped around so fast I gave myself whiplash. Worth. It."

She frowned at that, trying to figure out what exactly all the implications of those statements were. But that wasn't really her strong suit. "What if I get Aeron like..... a cool sword or something? Will he forgive me? I honestly didn't mean it for him. But also, what the fuck, dude? Are you gonna explain who you are or what you're doing here? Or are we going to just hang out, I'm leaning toward the second one if you want my opinion, always figured I'd be fun to hangout with."

"You could give him magic the likes of which he's never seen. Worked wonders on me." Her smile is completely unbothered even as Bree tries to usher them to the point. "Right right, I came here for a reason. We could totally hang out. Come with me to Bermuda! And, you know, stay." She tilts her head, watching Bree intently. "Sticking around here... It's fine. It's whatever. A little bit stifling though. I was okay with that at first, until I found out that magic doesn't work like we think it does. Bree, there's so much more we can do. I love everyone on the Council, for sure, even the grumps, but the thing itself is kinda... Unnecessary. I've found something better. So I came to tell you about it."

"I never doubted there was more," she said honestly. "The trouble with being reincarnated and relying on my shitty note-taking skills to learn from. But if I'm going anywhere, it's home. Australia home. I mean, Bermuda is officially on the bucket list now because that sounds awesome, but these people would literally die without me. Of boredom, probably. Gimme your spiel. And your cell number. And your go-to karaoke song."

For perhaps a split second, something serious, maybe even solemn, crosses her face. "They really do struggle not to let their seriousness swallow them whole." Water laps at the river shore, inching closer to Bree. "You can go anywhere, Bree. Surf Bermuda, check out some arctic glaciers, be back at Bondi in a second. I'm telling you, the magic we've had hidden away from us all this time? Total game-changer." With a puff of air she blows a lock of hair out of her eyes. "You've kinda gotta throw yourself at it, though. It's a whole-ass-or-nothing deal, and it'll tear the Council right apart if you aren't careful. Guess that's what happens when nobody is in charge."

"Yeah, I'm not actually worried about getting more magic for myself, I'm pretty happy with what I have. It's way more than most people have. But if you know where Feiyan is, that I'm interested in."

She groans almost playfully. "You're asking me the one thing I'm incapable of answering. Or, actually, one of like five. I can try, but I think the effect is supposed to make me look like a fish out of water. All lip, no noise. Feiyan can be found, though, that's the good news. I used all this magic to do that." She hardly lifts a finger and two columns of water rise to flank her. Then they begin to twirl, graceful as dancers, before sliding back into the river. "It's not just raw power - although it's that, too. Have you ever dreamed of commanding the entire ocean, Bree?" The reflection smiles like she's looking right through Bree. Her eyes are a little wild, focused on the horizon. "We are the ocean. Have you ever thought about that? What's a better embodiment of Strength than that?" Her words fall to silence and it lasts for several long beats, until she shakes her head and brings herself back. "But it's not just that. It's being about to teleport just like Mitch, or walk through the world with all your Spidey senses dialed up as high as they go like Justice. It's what The Ancients meant to take away, I suppose, and it's the key to finding Feiyan. Or to destroying the Council as you know it."

"What are the other four things?" Bree asked curiously. She sat on the river bank and leaned back on her elbows, face toward the sun to soak up as much vitamin D as she could. "The ones you can't answer. I know you can't tell me the answers but what are the questions?" Part of her doubted her double would answer that, either. Maybe it was question two. She turned her head toward the bizarro-Bree and shaded her face with one hand. "So, you're me. You made your choice, got the power, whatever. You're here to tempt me to do the same. Why? What do you care, you got your eeveelution, why does it matter if I make a different choice?"

She hummed, looking down at Bree from where the water held her high. "Five wasn't literal, buuuuut, I can't just give you the secret to using other magic - I can only tell you it's drawn from ley lines. I can't tell you who's about to come meddle in the Council's whole shtick, but I can tell you someone is. Stuff like that. I'm allowed to warn you, but I can't give you the answers you need." No emotion shifts over her face to cover her serene contentedness. Even if what she says seems urgent, she herself is as carefree as the ocean. "You're me, right? I'm you. And I kinda care about myself and what I need. Not enough to try to make you do anything, because when has that ever worked on us, but enough to warn you. There's a lot more to being Strength than you know, and was exhilarating to figure out for me. Helped me find Fei. Helped me figure out where I belong. Spread the happiness, babe."

"Yeah, we went to the ley lines. Someone is fucking with them. You know anything about that?" Bree asked. She sighed, this alternate version of her was too.... stoic. The fact that her face didn't give away her every thought spoke volumes to how different the two girls really were. Everything she was offering felt too good to be true -- the proverbial snake in the garden offering endless knowledge in exchange for eternal damnation. "Here's the thing Eerb... You're me, I'm you, so I feel like we know each other pretty well. And... I just don't trust you. There's an ulterior motive here, I don't know what it is, but I know it's there. I know that because I'm a terrible fucking person and given the chance at adventure and excitement I throw caution to the wind every time and fuck things up -- I've read about it over and over and over and I'm trying to break the cycle here."

Her calm surface gives no hint of any currents which may run beneath. "I do. I can tell you it's, uh, interference from others who..." She's thinking of words which won't get her in trouble, that much is clear. "Who know about magic and how to use it. Who aren't on the Council. Is that a good enough hint? I'm not discussing unicorns here or anything. That would be fun, though." She chuckles at 'Eerb' and doesn't bat an eyelash at Bree's candor. Doesn't seem moved by anything at all, really. Maybe her expression gains a hint of seriousness, but even that isn't easily proved. "You don't have to trust me. That seems fair enough. I did just show up out of the blue while you were minding your business. And I'm not asking you to decide anything now! I have to come back later to show you the full extent of this power anyway. So I'll come back, and you can decide then to trust me or tell me to get lost, if you like. Right now is just for giving you everything I can. Right now is for telling you that you an be the ocean, Bree. You can be a lot more than just some person or some Councilor. The Council is going to fall apart over this magic one way or another. You might as well become the force of nature you are, find Feiyan, and get a taste of that adventure before someone steals it from you for good."

saltlord06/22/2019

glittersatan06/22/2019

(,kjhgfghj) (that was so funny i broke character)

saltlord06/22/2019

(you're welcome)

"Come back for Halloween, we can get one of those two person horse costumes but a unicorn. We'll be super fucking magical," she said with a grin. "I'll keep an eye out for Death Eaters screwing with the leylines, if I can... And, for the record, I'm not saying get lost, do what you want as long as it's not hurting anyone, I just don't know what I'm going to do. In my experience when someone offers you something that sounds too good to be true, it usually is. The only exception has been Feiyan. What you're offering sounds a bit like Ultimate Cosmic Power, ITTY-BITTY living space, ya know? So I'll think about it. You can stick around, if you want. We can go do karaoke or like... freak people out with twin-y things."

"Are you afraid of me being some kind of magical used car salesman? I guess that makes sense. I can't promise people won't get hurt." She cants her head, expression pensive. "But that's true no matter what you do. See, once Marcy or Dan or Azra gets their hands on this power... yikes. Let's just say things went to hell right quick and my first instinct was to run away to Australia. Getting between them and their precious power wasn't easy. Hard decisions come with the territory." The little river waves around her grow agitated, sliding back and forth to the rhythm of the reflection's toes tapping the water's surface. "It took me a while to get used to all this... raw power. But magic is a force of nature, and nature's gonna be around long after us." She shrugs and then her grin starts up again. She starts to hum, a little off-key and without much attention to being nice to listen to, before a song tumbles from her laughing lips. "If you change your mind, I'm the first in line! Honey, I'm still free, take a chance on me." She steps onto the shore to accompany her singing with a dance, the water responding in kind. "I dunno the words, duh-nuh nuh nuh nah, something somethi-i-ing, take a chance on me-" She dissolves into her laughter for a moment and then straightens her spine again. "Karaoke rules and we are obviously fantastic at it. I can't stick around too long, though. Bermuda's my hot date."

“See, now I know you’re evil. How can you not know the words to ABBA? I’m going to kick your ass at karaoke.”

glittersatan06/22/2019

(is that her response for real kjhgf)

saltlord06/22/2019

Yeah. That’s it. She intends to think about the rest of it and try to sort it out in her head but talking to her double doesn’t seem to be getting her anywhere? Probably because she’s not asking good questions because she’s... a dummy lol

glittersatan06/22/2019

(i love everything about her)

saltlord06/22/2019

(I’m glad someone does lol)

glittersatan06/22/2019

"I mean, do you want me to be evil?" she asks, not remotely put out by the thought or Bree's lack of faith. "I can try. Not sure I'll be all that good at it since, like, all I can think about is ABBa and curly fries now, but you know how it is."

“No, that seems counterproductive. But I remember learning about doppelgängers and they’re like... always evil so.” She shrugged. “Damn, now I want curly fries. I think there a food truck nearby. Wanna see?”

"Oh, that's totally another thing I can't explain. What exactly I am. Or from when or- well, I can hint, but specifics don't come through. Let's get curly fries. I think the last time I had any was before Nadine went totally nuts and black magicked the whole Lair to pieces." She says it like she's commenting on the weather and then rubs her hands together excitedly. "You know what I love about food trucks? No dress code. I'm totally barefoot and they can just suck it."

“If anyone was gonna do it, it’d be her,” Bree sighed. “But also, I don’t like that you’re just so blasé about Nadine going bat shit and blowing things up. That’s... not ideal.” She looks down at her alternate self’s feet and cocks her head to the side. “If you’ve got access to everyone’s powers, couldn’t you just bamf some shoes here?”

"I got her to stop, so I mean..." She shrugs. "She can't hurt anyone now, and that's what matters, isn't it?" She does a mock tap dance in the sand just for Bree. "I could. I could do anything I wanted, though. Turn my feet into pterodactyl claws if I feel like it. Barefoot is nice, I like sand between my toes."

"Okay, but, ya know... it's June. And this isn't like a beach beach. Gonna be walking on asphalt soon enough. But hey, you do you."

She beams at the suggestion and pulls her knee up to take a step forward. Water rushes from the river to form a bubble floating just barely above the ground, and it supports her weight when she steps onto it. "Shoes are boring unless they're shaped like animals. And I could just bamf up some narwhal-shaped slippers, but this feels more fun."

"It's also super conspicuous? There are muggles around."

At that she groans. "Does that really matter? What are they gonna do, arrest us? Just tell them I'm a street magician and everyone else will come up with some rational explanation for what they're seeing."

"Yeah, and then you disappear and everyone looks at me with questions and I get blamed. Don't tell me you're too spoiled to walk."

"You're the one who just warned me about asphalt!"

"So put on some shoes! Damn, girl. There does not need to be this much drama. And that's coming from me."

She rolls her eyes but there's humor in the curve of her lips. It's the way someone who knows they're being purposefully unhelpful smiles. One moment her feet are bare, the next they're supported by beachy sandals. "Better, Miss Snippy?"

"Yes. And those are cute, you can leave them when you go." With that, she flips her hair and starts walking toward the food truck.

"Bossy bossy," she says as she strolls along after Bree. "And you think you wouldn't be a good leader."

"I wouldn't. There's a big difference between being bossy and making good decisions."

"Well, duh, but you aren't bossy to Azra or Eve or Aeron or anyone when you need them to listen to you." She arches her eyebrows like she's daring Bree to tell her otherwise. "You're a great listener when you try, and you know how to command attention without ever actually commanding. Sounds like leadership to me, but what do I know, I'm only you."

"You know as well as I do that people like Salma and Marcy will never take me seriously, nor should they. And I don't want to be in charge."

"They let their massive egos get in the way. How do they walk around like that all the time? Gotta be hard on their necks, am I right or am I right?" She stops in her tracks, her head cocked to the side. "Well if you won't be in charge, how can you trust anything will get done?"

"I'm not one of those if you want something done right you have to do it yourself types. I trust the people I'm with - yeah, they'll fuck some things up but we're all fuck ups so, what can you do? Micromanaging is exhausting and time consuming and ultimately counterproductive. So says the one book on management I read when I was seventeen. But it was written by flipping Navy Seals, so..."

"Did the Navy train them to flip, do you think?" She hasn't budged. "It's not really micromanaging if you tell them what to do and they do it. It's kind of just, managing. We are all fuck ups, though, that's totally true."

"Who knows," she replied with a shrug, moving around her double to continue toward the food truck -- the more important goal at the moment. "I'm not a manager."

She watches Bree's back as she walks away, her smile vanishing for a moment as her eyes narrow dangerously. Pleasantly she asks, "Then what are you?" and re-schools her face into something cheerful and benign, if a little tight around the eyes.

"A happy -- and hungry -- peon."

"I didn't realize you'd back down so easy from a challenge." It's an obvious attempt to goad her, but then, her carefree smile is starting to strain.

Bree smirked and shrugged. She didn't really think of herself as a happy peon -- it was true that she didn't want to be in charge, but there was also a part of her that wanted to see what would happen with this double if she just continued to do the opposite of what Eerb seemed to want. "Yup. We're pushovers, you ought to know that."

Now she makes no effort to hide her slitted gaze. "What about helping people? Protecting magic? Rescuing Feiyan? You'd rather just stand by and see what happens?"

Bree can't help but roll her eyes and sigh. "Calm down, okay? I'm partially messing with you because I know you're sure as fuck messing with me. But all that other stuff is going to work out -- we're going to find Fei. Magic is always chaotic and it will continue to be chaotic but we'll figure it out and we'll manage as a team -- it's what we do. I'm going to keep helping the council as much as I can, as annoyingly as I can, because they're my family and that's what you do with family. You, on the other hand, are probably an evil double sent from The Darkest Timeline™ to steal my soul, half my socks, and probably my favorite t-shirt, then stir shit up and either leave or replace me like a changeling. I'm not really cool with that but I also don't know how to stop it and I'm morbidly curious so I figure my best bet is to be myself -- an annoying troll -- and hope you get bored and either kill me or that we get a bicycle built for two."

There is a long silence. Nothing seems to move around them, and neither does the reflection. She just watches Bree. There is curiosity leeching into her face now, but it's tempered by wariness, or perhaps disappointment. Then she moves just a little too fast for comfort, coming to a stop right in front of Bree. Their eyes would be perfectly level if her head was not tilted slightly. Her gaze searches Bree's face. "I don't know what to make of you," she says softly, dissatisfaction evident.

She flinched slightly as her double moved in front of her, because that's weird af. "Yeah, I get that a lot." Her voice is nonchalant, but she's tensed to run if needed. (NOT THAT IT'D DO ANY GOOD BECAUSE HOLY SHIT HER DOUBLE JUST BASICALLY NARUTO RAN IN FRONT OF HER)

Her nose twitches. "You're so... tame." She's not bothered by their closeness, leaning her neck back only to get another look at Bree, then closing that distance yet again. "All the jokes and the pretenses. You're like a puppy. You aren't interested in power or doing important things or anything, are you? You just want to play."

"You're supposed to be me, you should know." She takes a step back and to the side, moving toward the food truck again. (She's such a little shit, I'm sorry. Because she knows her evil twin wants her do do something she's going to do NOTHING out of spite. #TheWorst )

"Maybe I should take your place."

"You'd be bored."

"I had such fun before, though... And I'm out of my own friends to drown."

Bree arches an eyebrow, turning and walking backward so she can look at her double while still making her way toward the food truck. "This is the part where I'm supposed to say something like 'touch them and I'll kill you' but if you really were me, you'd know that so I don't have to say it. Thing is, I can tell you're trying to get a rise out of me, I'm just not sure why. You want my life? Seems like you're more powerful than I am, you could murder me right here and now and take it. But you're not doing that, so there's either a bigger goal or something stopping you. I'm not the brightest bulb, but I'm also pretty sure that you're not actually me. I watched Back to the Future, interacting with your past/future self like...erases photos and fucks with the time space continuum. So, if you want something, do us both a favor and come out with it."

Disinterest filters into her expression and she shrugs. "I came here to offer what I have. You don't have to take it, but then I don't have a reason to stick around. Your life isn't important in the grand scheme of things." She turns away, looking back toward the water. "You just get reborn."

"If I'm so unimportant, why bother making the offer at all?"

"I never said you weren't important."

"So I'm important, just not my life? Meaning, what? Strength matters but not the current incarnation?"

She settles a sidelong glance over her shoulder at Bree, her face hard and inscrutable. "You could be the ocean, you know. Unfathomable. Powerful beyond belief, and vital. I don't know why you wouldn't choose that. But you don't have to - it's not something I can force. What comes next will be painful for you if you choose to watch from the sidelines, that's the best I can explain. Too afraid to take a risk and rise to the challenge? Then be afraid."

"Dually noted." She rolls her eyes and starts turns to walk away before turning back and adding, "Oh, and fuck you, too."

She smiles at that, an expression too wide and sharp for Bree's features, but she says nothing at all in return. (bree can exit orrrr engage, anything you want)

saltlordToday at 2:49 AM

Yeah, she's done with this bish

Bored of your threats now, i'm gonna get a snow cone

glittersatanToday at 2:50 AM

in that case picture eerb walking off into the water and sliding right into it to disappear - fancy exits are for chumps

saltlordToday at 2:52 AM

LOL And then there's bree who's just like, "I thought we were getting food? I think your threats might be more effective when not on an empty stomach." Bree also 100% had a hermione moment as Eerb was walking away and was like "is that really what my hair (and ass) look like from the back?"

#Something wicked this way comes #double trouble #bree and eerb #event 04 #Some commentary by myself and Divya left in because of the amusement factor and also for when I edit this into a real post

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sonofhistory · 6 years ago

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Ron Chernow: Tales of False Information, Hypocrisy and Sucking Up.

I’m not doing this in a pretty essay because I wanted to get the taint of his name from my keyboard quick enough. Often enough, I exclaim my opinion of Ron Chernow. What comes afterwards is a bucket of asks questioning my reasoning, to which I have explained on numerous occasions. Today, once and for all, I will answer it in a clear formate so that I may 1) Stop being asked of Chernow and 2) Give you all the information to choose properly when reading up on your history! Let’s begin.

This is Ron Chernow:

Ah, yes. The man himself. Historian, best-selling writer, journalist... you name it. Kinda looks like your uncle who gets you a child’s Christmas present even though you are seventeen years old. If you are interested in history, or follow it to some extent you most certainly have heard his name in the past. Whether it be in a book store, online, or for your especially crafty people--this blog ;) You are bound to be able to recognize his name. He has published titles such as Titan, The Death of the Banker, Grant & Washington to name a few with the most popularity or catch among readers and stats. However, if it is one biography of which stands out the most against anything it is: Alexander Hamilton. You know that big yellow book?

I can assure you, that while this book looks to big and bright as to blot out the sun: it is nothing but a walk in the park. The biography delves heavily into the life of the first Secretary Treasury of the United States in a manner which has never been performed to such an impressive extent for the historical figure before. From the poor island to by Washington’s side and then the forest of Wekawken to his last breath beside Eliza, just as David McCullough did with John Adams, Ron Chernow masterfully articulates all of the information in a conscious and extraordinary manner. So, perhaps you ask: why, Presley, do you hold an utter disdain for Ron Chernow if you think it was good?? Well to answer your question:

Because he does too much sucking up.

Sucking up.

But what do I mean by that? I mean rather poignantly that if Ron Chernow could, he would get down on his knees and please Hamilton in any which manner that he wishes. He sucks up. Alexander Hamilton is solely one example of this manner of creating a larger and life picture of the man. I have stated all this before, in my review on this book, but today I am going to tackle a few reasons why you shouldn’t rush out to read from Chernow on this interesting figure. From not allowing Hamilton to take account for his wrong deeds, to blaming the people in his life to blatant lies among the text. Ron Chernow, is, in my honest and collective opinion, a lying and untruthful historian.

First and foremost: bias. You’ve heard this word before often coming from me on this blog regarding historians. In my context, it means an author who does not take both prospectives in an argument and is always inclined to one specific side. Perfect examples of how historians have been masterful in avoiding bias is Jon Meacham in Thomas Jefferson and John Ferling in Jefferson vs Hamilton. Those authors were able to perfectly walk the line between giving their figure’s opinions and being able to tear their views to shreds. Ron Chernow does not walk the line. Actually he pretty much fell the thousand feet away from the line to his doom in hell. Strong wording? You bet. Chernow is EXTREMELY BIAS. By bias in Chernow context, I mean that he does not understand how to incorporate differing opinions into his passages or know how to interpret Hamilton in what manner he was: a brilliant but extremely flawed man with a multitude of moral issues who constructed the country from scratch with the rest of them. Instead, Chernow chooses to view Hamilton is a divergent light.

So what does this do for his character? Hamilton’s. It amplifies it. Chernow spends the entire biography attempting to convince how holy, forgotten and sacred Hamilton is that he entirely disregards that Hamilton is already interesting by himself! We don’t need useful false information or bias information. For example, Chernow portrays Hamilton in a light of “do no wrong” and that is was everyone around him of which had issue. For a few examples:

Thomas Jefferson started all of the arguments between them and he was evil. Not like Hamilton did anything to be either...

Maria Reynolds is a stupid whore and she seduced poor Hamilton into banging her.

James Monroe just stopped being friends with him and backstabbed him. Lmao. Right.

It is Eliza’s fault that Hamilton cheated on her because she was pregnant all of the time.

It was Eliza’s fault being Hamilton needs to protect his fragile masculinity and bang other women.

It is Eliza’s fault.

IT IS ELIZA’S FAULT FOR EVERYTHING.

This brings me onto another point about characterization. So, in the wake of him having to amplify Hamilton to his extraordinary human bring who cannot do any wrong, he had to, at the same time, ruin the characters and personalities of the people around Hamilton. He spends the entire book trying to say that it was Eliza who was the hero but then completely goes against his claim just to bring attention and say that Eliza was responsible for the largest blot on Hamilton’s character. He trashes James Monroe by putting him the light of a Hamilton or Jefferson wannabe. He characterizes Jefferson the wrong way and takes numerous amounts of time just to dig at his character in the text like a middle schooler talking shit about someone. The thing is? Jefferson sucks! Yeah! We all know that: Jefferson is a piece of shit. However, Chernow doesn’t diss Jefferson in a way that is so bring to light how disgusting he was, he does it just to prove how much “cooler” Jefferson was to him and in turn ignores all of his subject’s flaws. James Madison is portrayed pathetically as well. Thought I’d mention... I believe the most horrifying thing, however, is his incorrect take on Maria Reynolds. That she was a stupid whore and Hamilton couldn’t resist her beautiful, sexy and entrancing sex sex sex.

Alright. I spoke enough about character. Now allow us to tackle a fundamental reason why Chernow drops the ball in all of his biographies. The sacred ball. The sacred, holy ball that all historians must follow.

CITE YOUR GOD DAMN SOURCES.

Chernow puts information in there that you cannot find anywhere else. I mean... anywhere. But... what do I mean? I mean it is no where. No sources, no archives: nothing. A lot of his information is completely and utterly false! He places it in there just to serve his own agenda! It is completely crazy. Here are a few examples I noticed (there are many):

He states that Hamilton never owned any slaves and places him in the light of an extreme abolitionist. WHICH IS COMPLETELY FALSE. Chernow shows him as a fervent abolitionist and only mentions on one page in one sentence the possiblity that Alexander Hamilton owned slaves. Alexander Hamilton owned one or two house slaves, he married into one of the richest slave owning family, he bought slaves for his family member and Chernow tries to say this was all against his will–seriously? Newsflash, Alexander Hamilton was NOT an abolitionist.

Stated that Hercules Mulligan was in the New York Manumission Society yet he is not in any records and was owning slaves all throughout his life.

The story about Martha Washington’s tomcat is also untrue and the Boston Globe stated the emailed Chernow multiple times to no answer.

Let us also not forgot to mention the incorrect labeling on the William S. Hamilton picture.

As you can see: Chernow puts in facts and flowery information in order to pump up his nice thesis. He spends so long trying to do exactly what David McCullough did masterfully: bring a figure up from the depths and turn him in one fellow swoop into an icon. Sure, Chernow has gotten that done. He has a musical, which is pretty amazing, and everything. But masterfully? Debatable.

At the end of the day, Alexander Hamilton is just one example of Chernow’s dirty deed. He did the same thing in Washington btw which is why I don’t recommend it. I must giver Chernow props however: his writing style is complex but fascination, interesting and he does immense research for his writing. Kudos on that.

If you are looking for entertaining book with many facts and nearly a thousand pages of information on one person: you will go to the right now. I am not asking you to not read Chernow because in the end, he actually is quite good. What I am saying is that when you are going to read Chernow: you will need to take everything he says with a big pinch of salt. Because you may never know what is fact, what is reality and when he is crossing between being a historian and being a fan boy.

Take Chernow with a pinch of salt. A big pinch of salt. A whole thing of salt. A bucket of salt. A damn house of salt. As you are reading, you are going to have to question everything that he is writing about and you’ll never know fiction and fanboying between truth and reality. Want to relax instead? Come to me and I’ll recommend you anything better than him.

#got long #but here you go #ah finally maybe now I can #be done with him #ron chernow #Alexander hamilton #us history #history #pressles musing #american history

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