#read quest for the missing spoon

[lavandulawrites]

Sumeru’s Damsel In Distress

Yandere Alhaitham, yandere Cyno, yandere Kaveh, yandere Tighnari x female reader (not separate)

Part 2

I was wishing for Sethos and managed to get c3 Alhaitham (he was c0). When I played Cyno’s story quest earlier today I got the idea for this fic. (Let me know if anyone wanna be apart of my taglist).

Synopsis: You are invited to Alhaitham and Kaveh’s house among with your two friends, to taste their new tea.

Masterlist

Warnings: drugging, imprisonment

Word count: 1974

Kaveh had been stirring the tea for 5 minutes straight. The cup was in a beautiful dark green design with little flowers. The tea spoon was engraved with flower details and must have cost a small fortune. You were sitting on the divan to the left of Kaveh. He had prepared some tea for the five of you and brought it out in the little salon in his and Alhaitham’s house. The tea set was beautiful and luxurious, a good fit for Kaveh’s exquisite tastes. Tighnari and Cyno was sitting opposite of you and Alhaitham to your left.

The window behind you were open and the curtains fluttered in the warm summer wind. The flowers on the windowsill colourful and clearly thriving in the heat. The garden behind the house well attended and beautiful.

You fiddled with your bracelet. Your gaze flickered up and your eyes met orange ones. The general mahamattra’s eyes were watchful. His white brows furrowed slightly.

Tighnari eyed Kaveh’s stirring intensely.

The blond smiled. “I saw your new book in the bookstore today. I must say the design you chose is absolutely stunning” his voice eager. “I started reading it, but unfortunately I haven’t had the time to finish it yet” he laughed sheepishly. The spoon in his hand still stirring in an almost robotic manner.

The dark haired fox stilled Kaveh’s hand and muttered something between his sharp teeth. The architect nodded slightly and stilled his movement.

“Your novel is definitely one of the best I have read. Your sight on humanity and morals are really interesting as well as your storytelling. I am impressed” Alhaitham drew your attention away from the forest ranger and the architect. His lips twisted up into a small smile.

Kaveh sat your teacup in front off you and smiled. “The instructions on the package said to stir it good, so sorry for the wait” he laughed awkwardly.

“It’s okay” you shook your head.

Kaveh poured the steaming hot tea into four cups for each of the men. He stirred them, but not as long as he had with yours. When you were about to open your mouth, Tighnari chimed in “When you stir it extra long, the taste is milder. We know how you prefer your tea mild”.

You picked up the teacup. It was hot, but not too hot. The aroma slightly sweet. You caught your reflection in the dark surface. A sudden bad feeling crept through your veins and your hand stilled.

Noticing your hesitation, Alhaitham spoke up. “Are you alright?” his voice concerned.

“Yeah, I just got lost in thought…” you smiled slightly. With a slightly trembling hand you brought the cup to your lips. You didn’t know why you had such a bad feeling. You wanted to brush it off, but something told you to trust your instincts.

Tighnari cleared his throat. “This blend has great health benefits so I would advise you to drink it” despite his soft voice, you could make out the sternness hidden beneath it.

A weak “Yeah” escaped your lips.

You wrapped your lips carefully around the rim and swallowed. The tea was slightly sweet and a little bitter, but overall pleasant. You swallowed and lowered the cup.

As your gaze went between the four men before you, you noticed the hint of relief in their expressions. Kaveh grinned beside you and lifted his cup. “Let’s toast to [Name]’s newest book!”

The five off you brought your cups over the table and clinked them against each others. You did not miss how they exchanged glances. Their eyes swirling with a deep emotion you couldn’t quite place. It sent shivers down your spine and you gulped. Alhaitham’s ever so observant eyes didn’t miss the shift in your manner.

Time blended together as you talked about all and nothing. Your uneasiness had long passed and the house was filled with laughter. As time went on you felt slightly drowsy and you casted a glance over at the clock on the wall. It was time for you to head home.

You cleared throat “I think it’s time for me to head home. Thanks for having me, Alhaitham and Kaveh. I have had so much fun”. You smiled and was about to stand up when Kaveh placed a hand on your shoulder, making you sit down again. “Wait a moment. I will bring you some food to go. We didn’t eat it all so there’s plenty left!” his smile didn’t reach his eyes which were wide and frantic. As he made his way to the kitchen he bumped into different things and almost tilted Cyno’s glass over. Alhaitham eyed the blond with an unreadable expression.

“Are you tired, [Name]?” Cyno’s voice soft. He reached his hand over the table and gently grasped yours. The skin on his fingertips rough after many years of wielding his spear. On the back of your hand his long finger drew circles in a soothing manner.

“I am, that’s why I should head home” your eyelids slightly heavy as you blinked.

The hazel eyed man sighed softly “Why don’t you rest your eyes?”.

Your eyes flickered up to met the fox’s predatory eyes. His expression soft and yearning. A expression one reserved towards their lover.

“I really should… go… home…” your speech became slurred as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

Kaveh entered the room and paused in the opening. Why was his hands empty? Didn’t he say he would bring you some food you could take with you home?

“It finally took affect. I really started to stress out” the blond sighed out in relief.

“I told you I would time it correctly, didn’t I?” Tighnari answered him.

What were they talking about? You leaned back against the backrest, your head heavy and feeling like it was filled with cotton. Your mind drifting. Voices broke through your sleepy state.

“Is she fully out now?”

“Not yet. I would give it a few more minutes.”

“I have already sent her editor a letter in case she wonders where she has gone.”

“It is almost frightening how naive she is… We really did the right thing.”

Strong arms snaked underneath you and cradled you against his chest. A deep voice sounded in your ear “We will take good care of you. No one will hurt you now”.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with a unfamiliar ceiling. Daylight swept through the curtains and lit up the room. Your head was hammering and your body felt numb. You scanned the room as a attempt to understand where you were. The room was decorated with flowers and delicate trinkets. It was decorated exactly as you would decorate it…

You removed the sheets and sat upright. The covers were soft and a pale pink colour. You didn’t wear the clothes you wore last night, but a rose pink nightdress. The fabric was silky and beautiful. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed. You carefully sat down one foot, then the other and slowly rose. You were wobbly and slightly off balance, but you managed to make your way over to the door that seem to lead outside the bedroom.

You slowly opened the door and peered out into the hallway. The interior was the same as that of Alhaitham and Kaveh’s house. Weird. You stopped in your tracks as you tried to recall the night before. None of you had engaged in alcohol. In fact the only beverages you drank were tea and water.

You walked down the hallway as you studied your surroundings. You had been to the scribe’s house before, but you had never been to that part of the house. You stopped before two green tainted glass doors. You could hear the faint sound of voices. Even though you did not hear what they said, you recognised them. It was the voices of your four trusted friends.

You opened the door quietly and entered the kitchen. The smell of freshly baked bread made your stomach slightly growl. The fennec fox had his gaze fixed on you as you entered the kitchen. He had without doubt heard you the moment you stood up from you bed.

At the sound of your stomach, the white haired man turned his head to face you. “You are finally awake. Kaveh already baked some bread. We thought you would be quiet hungry when you woke up” his expression soft and on his mouth was a gentle smile.

You blinked. The kitchen table was set to five. Alhaitam stood by the coffee grinder. His green orange gaze set on you. Kaveh stormed towards you and took your hands in his. “I hope you are hungry! There’s plenty off food, so eat as much as you want!”

You tried to wry your hands out of his grasp, but it proved to be an impossible task. He was really strong, not surprising when he wielded a claymore. “Why am I here?” your question snapped Kaveh out of his cheerfulness. “What happened? What the fuck did you do?” your eyes were wide in terror as you stepped back.

The blond tightened his hold on your small hands. His expression was dark. “We did this to protect you” his answer curt.

The grey haired scribe stepped in and placed a hand on his senior’s shoulder. Kaveh hesitated before he released your hands.

You quickly stepped back. The wall hit you back, making you slightly lose balance. You were trapped. Tears welled up in your eyes. Why didn’t they tell you that this was only a misunderstanding?

“You are going to stay here. This is your new home. Forget about the outside world. It will only do you harm” Alhaitam’s stern voice snapping you out of your tears.

“Yeah, me and Cyno will stay here when our schedules allows us. This is truly for the best” Tighnari smiled. “Why don’t you get something to eat, hmm? You will feel better when you have some food in your stomach” he pulled out a chair for you to sit. “I will get you some medicine too. I can imagine that you have quite the headache now”.

Cyno placed his hand firmly on your lower back and guided you to the table. He looked at you sternly and you sat down. Tighnari gave you some medicine which tasted bitter.

“I still don’t understand…”

“Why did you kidnap me?” you looked up at the four men with a sacred expression.

“It’s not technically kidnapping as you already were in their house…” Cyno remarked.

“Shut it Cyno” Tighnari snapped. “Be a little but more mindful. Her fear is a natural response”.

Cyno held his hands up in a defensive way and muttered a “sorry”.

“We have noticed that you often find yourself in dangerous situations and we think that staying here, is for the best” Kaveh had kneeled down besides you. His hand gently holding yours. “We know all too well how cruel humans can be and we wish to protect you. You are too precious after all, darling” his red eyes laced with obsession mixed with a love deeper than any well.

You swallowed thickly. The situation you found yourself in really started to dawn on you. You were absolutely helpless. There were no chance in hell that you would escape the clutches of the unforgiving general, the intelligent scribe, the passionate architect and the cunning forest ranger. You were truly doomed.

“It seems you finally realise your place. Good” the scribe patted you gently on your head. “Just you wait, it won’t take long before you realise this is where you belong”.

Soft lips met your cheek as you started off into the distance. As the grey haired man lips made contact with your skin, you knew your fate was sealed.

[incorrect-riordanverse]

watched ep 3 & 4 of the pjo show. here are random thoughts:

ep 3

ive said before that ive put off watching the pjo show after episode 2 because the pacing seemed like a rush of getting from story checkpoint to story checkpoint and it never sat in one place long enough to actually grip me. episode 3 started off like that too, before the trio went on the quest. i only started to really like it when they were on the bus together and more of their dynamic was shining. theyre so funny bru.

i like all the acting but leah jeffries and aryan simhadri are CARRYING SO HARD. its like they took annabeth exactly how i imagined her out of my head and plopped her on screen and im so shocked at the accuracy??? her attitude and side eyes and sass is perf. and simhadri’s grover is insane because (dont come for me) i actually like the show version of him better than i did in the book 😭 perhaps reading him was rocky and i interpreted him wrong but seeing him on screen makes me SO attached to him. like in the books he always seemed like a sort of third wheel and annabeth and percy were outshining him so much but he’s actually slaying the show. i love him lots.

i like the dichotomy between percy and annabeth. their dynamic is already so juicy, especially with how they view both their godly and mortal parents. you can see some of their fatal flaws already shining through UGH i love them

i like medusa WAY more in the show. she seems so menacing yet classy and much more multifaceted. my only complaint was that she died way too quickly. there was so much build up in tension only for her to get one-tapped and it was honestly disappointing.

LIN MANUEL MIRANDA SPOTTED 🫵🫵

dialogue was great in this episode, btw.

ep 4

dream sequence went so hard -> “just breathe mummy ☺️ you’ll always be here 😁” *cuts to percy alone on a desolate plane where she is, in fact, not here*

sighhh sometimes i forget these kids are just twelve and theyre literal BABIES and percy just misses his mum 🙁

annabeth exposition time. a comment on all the exposition— there’s always something each episode but i think the show is doing a well enough job of not dumping everything in a way thats spoon-feedy to audience or in a way that makes viewers feel overwhelmed. theyre breaking information up nicely (imo).

echidna is slaying so hard. sorry but the villains are actually eating the whole dish up. mwah no balls.

its giving “im not a monster, im a mother” 🔥

fight scene annoyed me again but at least the mother of all monsters wasn’t ONE TAPPED. but i was annoyed because the monster was not thrashing him around as much as it had the opportunity to and it was giving plot armour im so sorry. might be cause of budget or target audience/rating though idk. the commentary of the show seems more mature however.

anyways yurr those are my observations. i like these last two eps more than the first two so maybe i should let this series cook.

remember to pirate this show if ur gonna watch it!!

[megamindsecretlair]

It's a Little Warm, Part 1

Cross posted on @megamindssecretlair

Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4 | Read Part 5

Pairing: Bucky x Black!Fem!Reader / Plus Size Reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. There is some making out, unresolved tension! Mentions of private parts but really mild. Cursing. Mild age gap. Reader is late 20s and Bucky is mid 30s. Soft Bucky. Part 1 of 5. Slow burn to smut though. Some sentences are intentional AAVE.

Summary: Sam Wilson is your play uncle and has invited you and Bucky to stay at a cabin with him, Sarah, and the kids. Bucky was sweet enough to help with your bags. You also found yourself up in the wee hours of the morning with him.

Word Count: 4,221k

A/N: I've been reading a lot of age gap fics at cabins and wanted to try my spin. Apologies if I miss any warnings or this is super corny. But here we go! While likes are awesome, please consider reblogging and commenting to help support writers!

“Kinfolk!” Uncle Sam yelled and shoved past people in his quest to scoop you into his arms and spin you around. You yelped, not used to anyone swinging you around like a doll. You were short but far from petite and the sudden loss of your feet firmly planted to the ground made your stomach flip. 

“Put me down!” You yelled. You slapped at his massive arms but that only made him chuckle. Mercifully, he stopped turning and set you on your feet. “Look at you!” 

You rolled your eyes. “I just saw ya’ll last week!” 

His chuckle was quick as he threw his head back. “You barely come out of the house, I got to comment on the special occasion.”

You twist your lips and roll your eyes. “I see being Captain Chocolate has made you even cornier,” you said.

Uncle Sam laughed and threw his arm over your shoulder. “Oh, see you got jokes. I see working for that newspaper ain’t help with them lame ass nicknames. I thought you had a better vocabulary than that?” 

“Somehow I always forget it when I come around ya’ll,” you said. Uncle Sam only chuckled. “Where’s your bags?” 

“Got it in the car for now,” you said. 

Uncle Sam frowned. “Give me a minute, I’ll come help you,” he said. 

“I’m perfectly capable of bringing up my own bags,” you said. 

“That ain’t what I said. C’mon and say hi to Sarah. She’s glad there will be another woman this week,” he said. You follow Uncle Sam through the cabin, weaving through close friends of his and Aunt Sarah. 

The cabin had an open plan for the living room and dining room. People milled around watching a football game and sitting on large, comfortable couches. The dining room was cottage chic as a few of the elderly people sat around it talking and fanning themselves. Kids nearly pushed you over as they ran through the cabin.

“Say ‘excuse me’ next time!” Uncle Sam called after them. A chorus of “excuse me’s” rang out as you waved them off. Finally, you made it through the sea of people into the kitchen where various aunties were passing around bowls and spoons and tinfoil. 

They smiled at you and you were passed around like the last piece of pie as everyone got in their hugs and kisses and well wishes. The last person to hug you was Aunt Sarah. She hugged you just as hard as Uncle Sam did. 

“Damn, ya’ll would’ve thought I died or something,” you said. 

Sarah laughed. “Oh my god! I’m just so happy it’s not just me staying here this week. Sam gets his puppy, I should get one too,” Sarah said and laughed, pushing her braids behind her ears. 

Before you could ask what she meant, a booming grandfatherly voice called out for Sam. He told them that he’d be right back and headed out of the open side door towards the backyard. Smoke rose into the air as a full barbeque station was being managed by an elderly man with a cap and New Balance shoes on. You shook your head. Every time.

You opened your mouth to ask what Sarah meant by the puppy comment but movement to your left caught your eye. A man entered the kitchen in a soft burgundy shirt and jeans and large dusty boots. He scanned the room before spotting Sarah and broke into a wide grin.

He was simply gorgeous. It was the type of smile that could stop traffic. Perhaps even cure cancer if he grinned hard enough. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he approached. 

“You must be Sam’s niece,” he said and extended his hand. 

“Uh yes, nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes,” you said and took his hand. His hand was rough and calloused and slid across your soft palm, making your hand tingle. 

He smirked and shook his head. “Ugh, Mr. Barnes makes me sound old. I’m not that old. Bucky is fine,” he said.

“You are that old, you old dinosaur,” Uncle Sam said, materializing right next to you. He clapped you on the back, making you jump. “He’s so old, Moses asked him to lead the choir,” Uncle Sam said and laughed.

The group laughed and Bucky rolled his eyes. “At least I don’t have any gray hairs,” Bucky said. 

“Ay man, you take that back. That’s hurtful,” Uncle Sam said and smoothed down his faded haircut. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off of Bucky Barnes. It had been wild hearing about the man from Uncle Sam and Aunt Sarah, but seeing him in person was an entirely different experience. 

Aunt Sarah leaned her hip against the counter and looked between the two men. “See, Sam gets his puppy and I get another human being to talk to. Once you get these two started, they keep going on and on,” she said. 

You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head. “Bucky’s staying with us for the week too. It’s rare they come home at the same time these days. So we’re gonna make a thing out of it,” Aunt Sarah explained the unspoken question lingering in the air.

“Ah, gotcha.” 

“Hey, we bring the sunshine and the good vibes. All day, baby. Now, pass over the keys,” Uncle Sam said and held his hand out. 

You shook your head. “I can get it, it’s not a big deal.” 

The cook for the festivities called for Uncle Sam again. He groaned and nodded towards Bucky. “Wrestle the keys from her so we can help with her bags and take it upstairs. She’s stubborn.” 

“Stubborn doesn’t work on us, doll,” Bucky said and turned that mega-watt smile on you. You sighed and fought to keep all kinds of dirty thoughts out of your mind. Could super soldiers read minds? 

“Hey, hey, hey! None of that. Paws off!” Uncle Sam said.

“Oh my god,” you groaned. Your cheeks instantly flamed and you were grateful for your darker skin. It hid the obvious signs of a blush. You turned to Aunt Sarah for help who laughed and shook her head. She gave you a pitying look as if to say she wouldn’t be any help. She looked Bucky up and down and winked at you. 

“You’re not really my uncle, you know,” you said. 

“I’m your uncle in the ways that matter. Don’t make me bring a hose in here. It’s hard enough keeping the aunties off of him.” 

The cook called out for Uncle Sam again. He gave them a warning glare before you turned back to Bucky who held out his metal hand. It had intricate designs etched into it and seemed really, really advanced. You half wondered if it was from that famous Wakanda. You’d just about die to have a chance to go there one day. 

“I can get it myself. You don’t have to bother,” you said. You backed away, bumping into random partygoers talking in the kitchen. The press of bodies seemed to double as you backed away towards the front door. You knew you should have brought your things inside earlier. But you were already running late and just wanted to unwind from the long drive. 

Bucky stalked forward, patient as a hunter, with his arm still outstretched. His grin turned into a patient smirk. 

“Right, being stubborn doesn’t work on you,” you said. 

His answering smirk was enough to melt your panties. You looked away from him. If he couldn’t read your mind, he could at least read your facial expressions. And none of your thoughts were holy. 

You dug into the back pocket of your shorts and slapped your keys into his hand. “Thanks, doll,” he said.

You had, hand to god, actual shivers run down your spine. His voice had the right amount of gravel in it to skate over your nerve endings. And you weren't even standing that close to him. 

Bucky held out his hand for you to lead the way and you took the opportunity to calm your racing heart and nerves. He was a solid wall of heat at your back as you maneuvered your way to the front door. Your sandals slapped against the hardwood floor but even with his boots, he was silent. You felt like a bull in a china shop. 

You gave yourself a pep talk. Somehow, someway, you were supposed to survive an entire week with that. You supposed it was true. You should never meet your idols. You might get the overwhelming urge to climb them like a tree. 

Okay, thoughts like that weren’t going to help. You supposed you could limit your contact as much as possible. Hide out in the room or down by the lake. Anything. As long as it meant you weren’t right next to the man. 

You led Bucky outside and towards the makeshift parking lot. A dizzying array of nearly every make and model crowded the rented cabin’s lawn and rocky driveway. You had to park a little ways away and walk down to the cabin. Making it to your beat up Honda, you waved to it. 

Bucky smirked and popped the trunk. You had two suitcases, plus your laptop bag. You moved to grab one and Bucky tsked at you. He tsked at you as if you were a child! 

“You don’t like people doing things for you, do you?” Bucky asked with a smirk. He bent down to retrieve your bags. He didn’t even grunt at the weight. This was your poor attempt to pack light. But since you were a big girl, your clothes didn’t roll up all cute and tiny. You had to adjust and shove things until they fit enough for the suitcase to close. 

“I’m not used to it. Makes me feel weird,” you said. 

“Why’s that?” 

“I don’t know. Makes me feel useless. I feel like I should help,” you said. He got the second suitcase down and slipped your laptop bag over his shoulders. You closed the trunk.

“So you were going to haul all of this to the cabin tonight by yourself?” 

“Yes?” You hadn’t meant to make it a question, but he asked as if he were scolding you. You fought an eye roll and bit the inside of your cheek. He was being nice. But it still grated. As far as the City of Nawlins was concerned, you were a full growed adult. 

“It gets pretty dark out here. It could’ve gotten dangerous. A random car could hit you or a wild animal could trip you up,” he said. 

“You always so fatalistic?” 

“I’ve had reason to be,” he said.

Right. Doofus. “I am so-”

“Don’t be,” he said with a smirk. “Once you fight scaly purple monster-aliens, it’s hard not to see danger everywhere. Just because you can do things by yourself doesn’t mean you can’t accept a little help. Okay?” 

You nodded slowly, feeling like a proper idiot. Of course the man was fatalistic. You didn’t know everything about him. Most of it came from Antman’s book or Uncle Sam’s stories, and it wasn’t the whole story. Still, it was enough to know that Bucky had more than enough reason to be wary of potential danger. 

You took a deep breath and avoided looking at him. He carried your bags into the house and up the stairs. He nodded towards a door a few paces down the hallway. You opened it to find a spacious room, decorated with a nautical theme. You smiled at the blue and white scheme, the anchor pictures on the wall, and the goofy full sized bed. 

Bucky gently set your bags on the floor and your laptop bag on the small desk. As he leaned over, his shirt rode up a bit revealing creamy skin and subtle muscles. 

“What’s that, doll?” Bucky asked as he straightened. 

“What?” You asked, a little too loud. You looked at him and he put his hands on his waist as he surveyed the room.

“I thought you said something,” he said. Did he have to draw attention to his tiny ass waist? Seriously. This man couldn’t be real. It was like he stepped out of a smut book. He was the definition of sexy as sin. Everything he did was seductive. 

“Figured you’d get the better room,” he muttered with a sigh. But you got the sense that he was teasing. You looked around and noticed the huge window. You went to it and peeked out over the backyard. Uncle Sam was leading the group dance along to a Tupac song. 

You turned with a smile to tell Bucky but you noticed his eyes dart up to your face. Was he…?

No way. You shook your head. “Where’s your room?” You asked.

“Right across the hall. Just holler if you need anything, I’m a light sleeper.” 

Your mind wandered to how he would look asleep. His dark hair tousled and floofy. You bet he slept without a shirt on. He seemed the type. Plus he was like a furnace. He probably got hot. Which meant…

“Uh right. That must suck. I sleep like a little brick,” you said. Your cheeks burned again. 

“I haven’t slept that well since before the war,” he said and shrugged. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine. I probably just need some water. It’s a little warm in here. I mean outside. I mean today,” you said with a laugh. You looked at the floor and closed your eyes. Yup. Operation Avoid Bucky At All Costs commenced now. 

“Well come on. We better get downstairs before Sam steals all the ribs like last time. I thought food lasted longer at cookouts?” Bucky asked. 

You laughed. “Rule number one of cookouts: make your to-go plate before your real plate,” you said. 

He backed out of the room with a grin. You followed and closed your bedroom door behind you. 

“You’ll have to explain that one,” he said. 

You explained the intricacies of cook out etiquette as you headed down the stairs and on the way outside. Bucky listened and didn’t interrupt no matter how many side stories and funny anecdotes you told. Once outside, Uncle Sam waved from the dance area. 

Uncle Sam moved and shimmied his way through dances, making everyone around him laugh. He wore long, navy shorts and a light blue shirt. You shook your head as he tried to twerk and made everyone nearly fall out with laughter. 

You stood side by side with Bucky as you watched. You kept all of your focus on Uncle Sam. You absolutely did not notice how heavenly Bucky smelled or how he blocked the sun for you. 

Aunt Sarah called your name and you looked behind you. She sat at a table and waved. She pointed to a plate she made for you. Your stomach chose then to grumble. You waved back to acknowledge her. 

“I better…” 

“I’ll catch you around,” he said with a small smile. He headed off into the swarm of people with ease saying hi and clapping people on the back. 

You took a deep breath. Maybe food was exactly what you needed. If you were too busy stuffing your face, you didn’t have time to think about Bucky Barnes. 

You were burning up. For such an open room, the southern heat was eating you alive. You had already kicked off most of your pjs, leaving nothing but an oversized T-shirt and your panties. In a minute, you were going to take that off too, but you desperately needed some water.

You got out of bed, fumbling around in the dark. You stubbed your toe on the corner of a dresser and bit the inside of your cheek to keep from yowling. You danced in place until the sharp pain subsided.

You had no idea what time it was but after the party, cleaning up, and trading stories around the kitchen table, everyone peeled off for bed around two or three in the morning. The sun wasn’t yet up so you only managed to get an hour or so of sleep. 

Your tongue was dry and thick. You moved it around, trying to get your spit going. That last tequila shot definitely did you in. You sighed heavily as you padded down the hallway and the stairs. 

The silence was near deafening as you crossed the wide open space. The cabin was dark but there was enough ambient light from the open curtains letting in moon light. You could see enough to cross the living room towards the kitchen.

You opened the fridge door and bent over to look for leftover water bottles. You danced a bit as you tried to focus long enough to find a bottle. The fridge blew cold air that washed over your flushed skin. You scratched absently at your bonnet. 

Finally finding some water, you uncapped it and stood up to down nearly half the bottle. You turned around and screamed, jumping back into the fridge door. Bucky sat at the kitchen table. The light from the fridge gave him an otherworldly appearance.

Bucky stood up instantly and crossed the small space towards you. He held out his hands to steady you. “You okay? I’m sorry,” he said. 

You slapped him away and scrambled for the nearest light switch. “You scared me half to death!” 

Miraculously, you drank too much for the water to slosh out of the bottle so none of it spilled. You clutched the cool bottle to your racing heart. Your hands shook and you took deep breaths to calm down. 

Bucky had the good nerve to wince before closing the fridge door. “I’m truly sorry,” he said.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked.

Bucky chuckled. “Well, I wasn’t trying to scare you. A random voice in the night would’ve scared you more,” he said. 

You flopped into the nearest kitchen chair. You were too hot and too shaken up to care that you wore a bonnet around Bucky. There was no need to avoid him now. You were about as sexy as a paper clip. 

He dropped back into his seat. Now that you were calming down, you noticed that true to your daydreams, his hair was pleasantly tousled. He didn’t wear a shirt but he did have dog tags hanging from his neck. His metal arm gleamed in the low light. 

“Couldn’t sleep either?” You asked.

He smirked. “Not really,” he said. 

“Nightmares? Want to talk about it? I’ve been told I’m an excellent listener,” you said.

He absently rubbed a spot on the wooden table. “Wasn’t a nightmare this time. Actually had a dream. For the first time in a long time.” 

You looked at him as he held a smirk, but there was no humor in it. You sat patiently, giving him the space to talk about it or not. It didn’t seem like he was inclined, so you sipped your water and listened to the subtle animal sounds from outside. 

“It wasn’t anything fancy. Quite boring actually. I dreamt I was back in Wakanda. It was peaceful there,” he said softly.

A million questions danced in your head. But you nodded and smiled at him to continue. “There was a small lake where I used to sit for hours and just be. I didn’t get a lot of chances to do that in my life. Being here just made me miss it, I guess,” he said.  

“I get that. Dream freaked you out enough to come sit in the dark by your lonesome?” You asked.

He chuckled and nodded. “I can’t always trust what’s in my head. Sometimes I need to ground myself and I’m still getting used to how soft beds are these days,” he said.

“Oh, they make them firmer. Like sleeping on an ironing board,” you said. 

Bucky chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve slept on worse,” he said. 

“Ugh, no thank you. Give me the softest bed you can find. I wanna disappear into an infinite void of clouds and pillows and blankets,” you said. 

Bucky grinned and looked at you. “Don’t you have to be this tall to even climb into the bed?” He held up his hand to exaggerate how short you were. You stuck your tongue out at him. 

“Next to you, everyone’s short,” you said.

“And yet you’re still the shortest,” he said and laughed. You leaned up and slapped his regular arm. 

“You’ve been hanging around Uncle Sam too long,” you said.

Before you could pull back, Bucky grabbed your wrist and prevented you from moving back. He rubbed lazy circles as he looked at you.

“Why do you call him Uncle?” 

Your heart rate sped up for different reasons. His touch was feather soft and sent all kinds of crazy signals to your belly. 

“I grew up around their family for years. But when Sam joined the Air Force, I called him Uncle Sam as a joke. Kind of stuck. He already saw himself as my older brother so we kept it. Sarah felt left out so I called her Auntie,” you explained.

Bucky hummed and nodded. He glanced down at the circles he was making on your wrist. 

“Where’s your family?” He asked.

You shrugged. “Deadbeat, emotionally abusive parents. I ditched them a long time ago and I don’t talk to them.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“S’okay. Good riddance. Sam and Sarah and the boys are all I need. If you’re gonna keep coming around, I guess that includes you too,” you said.

Bucky chuckled and finally released your wrist. “You should probably try to get some sleep. Apparently, Sam has plans scheduled for the whole week,” Bucky said softly. 

“Sam loves his plans. You gonna get some rest?” You asked.

“I’ll try,” he said. 

You nodded. You stood up and moved to walk past him. But you stopped and bit your lip. You reached up and stroked his cheek. 

“I hope you get some sleep,” you said. You didn’t quite want the spell to break yet. It was early morning and the house was quiet. In the moments you spent down here, your body had cooled. However, standing so close to him while his clean soapy scent enveloped you, your body heated up for entirely different reasons. 

You slid your fingers under his chin and made him look up at you. His lips parted as he looked from between your eyes to your lips. He sighed as he trailed his fingers along your thighs. You made a squeak as the cold metal of his arm touched your heated skin. 

He skirted his fingers up and beneath the hem of your shirt, but he didn’t press further. He drew more lazy circles into your skin. 

Fuck it. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He sighed again, against your lips, and tugged you closer until you were straddling his thick thigh. You braced one hand on his other thigh and the other around his metal shoulder. 

He devoured you in a strong kiss, teeth clashing against each other. His tongue swiped against your lower lip before you opened for him. His tongue dived inside and slid against your own. 

His metal arm wrapped around you to keep you steady. His hand was better than a brace as it kept you from slipping off of him. His other hand came up to stroke your jaw before wrapping around your neck.

Not even you could keep the needy moan from escaping your lips. His lips moved over yours with expert care. Your hands came up to feather into his hair and trail down to the nape of his neck where you lightly scratched him.

A shudder moved through him that you felt all the way to your pussy. You shamelessly grinded on his leg. There was nothing but his sweatpants and your panties keeping you from skin on skin contact but you were sure he could feel how damp you were already. You’d be embarrassed except your thoughts were consumed with him. With touching him and feeling your nipples rub against his bare chest.

As soon as the kiss started, Bucky pulled away from you. Your harsh breaths mingled with his as you both panted. He plucked your hands from around his neck and held them in between you like a silent prayer. He got a faraway look in his eyes as he stared at your hands. 

He leaned down and kissed your fingers before leaning back and staring at the ceiling. Almost as if he were staring straight into Uncle Sam’s room. 

“You should go back upstairs,” he panted. 

You wanted to be angry. He didn’t get to just dismiss you. You practically threw yourself at him and that realization was enough to dump ice water in your veins. How embarrassing. 

You got up slowly and nodded. Without saying another word, you left the kitchen. Cool air hit the sweat along your face and neck and you shivered from the lack of heat. His heat. But you were a grown woman. You would be okay. 

You trudged all the way to your room and closed the door before falling face first into bed with a soft groan. 

What, the actual fuck just happened?

Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4 | Read Part 5

There is now a follow up! It's a Little Cold

[rotonalhaitham]

Alhaitham - You wanting me tonight feels impossible. (NSFW)

(Can we talk about how we completely forgot that some people said alhaitham betrayed us in the archon quest or... Yeah let's not it ain't true anyway) (i just thought it's funny)

More brainrot here,,, a proper scenario and most probably a nsfw one soon (that one is screaming to be finished in my drafts)

Warnings: NSFW-ish, not proof read as always, very short

(boner alert)

A very tiring day for the both of you. A week, rather.

It has come to that point where work is slowly coming in, resulting to start hell week. And to make it worse, it affects both of you.

But fortunately , your boss had decided to give you 2 days break for your hard work. And to Alhaitham.. Well let's just say he is the boss. But that doesn't mean he doesn't have alot of work to do despite the power he holds. He decided to also have 2 days break to spend with you.

Finally, rest. One thing you know for sure after laying down with Alhaitham in the bed is comfort and rest that you needed. Your tired and sleepy state had controlled over you, and didn't realized your hands are wandering. But even so, your palm seems to be craving for some warmth, something warm like Alhaitham's temperature. Like your hand has its own mind, you lifted your lovers clothes that is covering his stomach, slowly and gently touching his hard abs. Your hands slowly went down to his torso, which you two are already asleep to even notice.

The sunlight caused you to wake up from it's brightness and the warmness of it. You slowly open your eyes, getting stirred from you sleep, you felt big buff arms wrapped around your waist. It's like it wasn't just last night you we're spooning your lover, now you're the one getting spooned.

Not long after, you felt the love of your life pepper quick pecks of kisses on the back of your neck, it made you giggle.

".. 'Morning, habibti."

He greated, his morning voice vibrating through your neck as he buries his face into you.

"Good morning my love."

You lovingly replied. There's no more better morning than to wake up to your lover's arms.

A moment of silence occurred. Just the two of you cherishing each other's warmth and adoration for each other. Not long after, you felt something poke your back. After realizing what it is, you felt flustered. Did he really got a boner just from this?

"... Haitham?"

You spoke up. Expecting him to know what you're talking about.

The smart man he is, he knows damn well you felt him. It's almost a shame but after weeks of work he missed you alot. Everything about you, and every inch of you.

"I'm sorry... All I could think of these past few days is you, aswell as what I'm going to do to you once we get some proper rest. I missed you, yknow? That day has finally come... Now, could you help me with this?"

Oh, but how could you ever decline? He's the only one who's in your mind too.

[illuminatedquill]

Ghost Stories 05

Feat. Hera Syndulla + Kanan Jarrus/Ezra Bridger + Sabine Wren

Story Context: Kanan grows increasingly concerned about the growing rift between Sabine and Ezra after the Sith Holocron incident. With Hera's permission, he locks them both in the Ghost's airlock to force them to talk through their issues.

Breakfast time on the Ghost was usually a lively affair on most mornings (well, morning as Hera counted it - as a rule, for someone well-travelled as she was, whenever you woke up counted as morning).

Kanan could usually be found in the corner, sipping on a fresh mug of caf and reading up on the Holo-Net for the latest news of the day. Zeb typically brushed out his hair as part of a necessary daily grooming routine; Chopper was in the cockpit, checking the ship's systems.

Sabine and Ezra, the two teenagers aboard, could always be counted on to be found at the communal table together, chowing down on the meal and doing their usual back and forth about whatever held their interest at the moment: one of Sabine's newest artworks, the outcome of a recent mission, or making Zeb paranoid about potential bald spots.

With recent events however, the once cozy atmosphere of the Ghost crew sharing a meal together felt like a distant memory. Kanan had become blind, a result of his ill-fated trek to Malachor. Ahsoka had perished, seemingly, against the Emperor's top enforcer, the Sith Lord known as Darth Vader.

And as for Ezra, he almost succumbed to the temptation of an ancient Sith relic; in his quest to prevent future tragedy, the Sith Holocron had caused a dark, angry persona to develop in the young man. Ezra had become increasingly erratic and reckless in his missions, aiming to cause maximum damage to the Empire at any cost.

Thankfully, he had been saved by Kanan's intervention. But the influence, Hera noted, still remained and was keenly felt by everyone in the crew despite Ezra's apology and promise to do better. There was some distance now, between the young Jedi and the crew. Everyone was still trying to figure out how to move forward, weeks later.

One person, however, seemed particularly affected by Ezra's recent descent towards the dark side. Sabine, Ezra's closest friend, had become increasingly distant and cold towards him as of late.

Carrying two bowls of steaming porridge to the communal table on this morning, Hera announced, "Dig in. It's fresh."

Ezra, sitting at the table with a mug of fresh juice next to him, eyed the food with wolfish interest. Smiling, he said, "Thanks, Hera."

Sabine walked in, wearing her standard Mandalorian armor, hair freshly dyed and trimmed.

Ezra waved at her. "Good morning, sleepy-head," he teased.

Sabine didn't reply to him. Without glancing at Ezra, she took her bowl of porridge from the table and said, "I'll eat in my room, if that's okay."

Hera saw Ezra's smile fade. "Sabine, why don't you - ", she started to say before being cut off.

"I've got a lot to do today. Can't stay and chat. See you later," Sabine said abruptly. She turned around and disappeared down the hallway leading into her room, almost bumping into Kanan.

"Sorry, Kanan," she mumbled before continuing on her way.

"No worries," he replied. Despite his newfound disability, Hera had the sense that Kanan was observant as ever. The older Jedi knew something was up with Sabine regarding Ezra.

Ezra quietly ate his meal alone, clearly trying to act nonchalant in the face of Sabine's casual disregard. Hera sighed and stepped away to speak with Kanan privately.

"You caught all that?" she murmured to him.

He tipped his head towards her. "Of course. Sabine's emotions spiking all over the place regarding Ezra. Hard to miss; it feels like standing next to a live electric cable in the Force."

Hera watched the young Jedi eat another spoonful of porridge in silence. She knew Ezra was taking Sabine's recent distance towards him hard; the two had been close before his incident with the Sith relic. He blamed himself and had been working doubly hard since then to right the wrongs that were inflicted while under the influence.

It was difficult work to make amends, she knew. Hard to regain trust once it's broken the first time.

Still, she wondered if Sabine wasn't being too harsh towards him.

"How do we fix this?" she asked.

Kanan stroked his beard, contemplating for a moment. Then he said, "I've got an idea, if you're willing to play along."

She arched a curious eyebrow at him. "I'm listening."

He turned towards her with a small, evil grin. "I need to borrow the airlock."

A knock came while Sabine was finishing maintenance on her blasters. "Enter," she said.

The doors slid open to reveal Hera. "Can I borrow you for a second?"

"Sure," replied Sabine. "What's up?"

"Need your help checking some faulty wiring in the airlock. Shouldn't take long."

Sabine stood up, stretching tired muscles. Whenever Hera said that maintenance wouldn't take long, it usually ended up being a mess requiring hours of work. The Ghost had seen its fair share of scraps; the venerable freighter had stayed true throughout the years of service under Hera's command, but it wasn't meant for combat. The added wear and tear coming from duties outside its capabilities meant extra repairs.

Arriving at the airlock hatch a minute later, Sabine was surprised to find Ezra waiting there also.

He blinked at her. "Sabine?"

She turned to Hera. "What's this about? I thought it was just going to be the two of us."

Hera let out a brief sigh. "Change of plans."

The airlock hatch hissed open -

An invisible force gave a firm shove to Sabine's back, propelling her forward into the airlock. A moment later Ezra followed suit, almost falling over her.

"What the - " Ezra gasped.

In the opening, Kanan was standing there with an exasperated Hera. He gave them a sardonic salute -

And then the hatch shut with a resounding thud. The airlock's interior went pitch-black as the power was shut off.

Sabine awkwardly clambered over Ezra and banged on the hatch. "Hey!" she yelled. “What the hell are you two doing?"

Hera's voice was muffled through the durasteel hatch. "Kanan's idea," she replied, sounding apologetic.

"You agreed," came his reply. "And supplied the airlock."

"Yeah," Hera retorted. "And if there's any damage from these two because of your brilliant plan, it's coming out of your hide, Kanan Jarrus."

From behind Sabine came a groan. There was a rustle of sound; in the darkness, she could just make out Ezra's figure sitting up from the floor. "I've got a bad feeling about this," he sighed.

"What plan?" asked Sabine through gritted teeth.

Kanan spoke up. "You and Ezra need to talk. Can't have you two acting all frosty towards each other. Not now."

Sabine's face heated up. "I'm not acting frosty towards Ezra," she snapped.

There was a pause. Then, Ezra's voice came through the dark, sounding sad. "You really don't want to be in the same space as me, huh," he remarked.

She turned towards him. In the pitch-black, she couldn't see much of him, but it wasn't hard for Sabine to imagine those bright blue eyes - and the look of hurt in them.

"That's not - " she started, then stopped. Forcing herself to calm down with a deep breath, she said softly, "It's not like that, Ezra."

From the other side of the hatch, Kanan said, "Sounds like you two have some talking to do."

Sabine banged on the hatch in response. "We'll play along with your stupid plan, Kanan. But this will be a private talk. You and Hera can beat it."

There came the sound of a muted conversation from the other side. Then Hera replied, "We'll be down the hall. Bang three times when you guys are finished."

Sabine gave them a couple seconds to leave and then clumsily felt along the airlock's wall until she found Ezra. "Scooch over, goober," she said. "It's tight in here."

Ezra obliged her. They sat in silence for a few moments, absorbing the ridiculousness of their situation. Sabine leaned her head back against the wall, trying to corral her thoughts and feelings into something coherent.

"So, are we not friends anymore?" His tone was casual, which did not soften the question's delivery in the slightest.

Sabine winced, feeling like something sharp had pierced her heart. She took a deep breath and then turned her head towards him. "Ezra . . . I'm going to speak for a little bit, okay? I just want you to listen."

A silence hung thickly between them as she awaited his response. She really wished the lights were on, just to see his face, how he felt.

But maybe it's better this way, she thought. At least, for me.

"You scared me, Ezra Bridger," she said quietly. "You went off the rails and almost got yourself killed. And I couldn't do anything except watch it happen. You're my best friend and there was nothing I could do to prevent you from going down that path."

"The Sith Holocron," said Ezra cautiously. "I was under its influence."

Sabine shook her head. "It's an amplifier. Like any other type of power. It amplifies you, makes you able to be . . . more of yourself, do you understand? I've seen you and Kanan use the Force to do some amazing things, but this? It wasn't corrupting you."

There was a pause. "I don't understand," Ezra said.

She poked him hard in the chest. "It's you, di'kut. It was all you. The holocron brought out the darkness, but it was still you, Ezra. That anger, that recklessness, that raw power - it was always there. And it will always be there. And that scares me."

Sabine heard Ezra inhale sharply in realization. "Oh," he said quietly. "Okay. I get it now."

"Do you really?" she asked. "You'll be tempted from now on. It will be harder not to draw upon that power again when faced with tough situations in the future."

"Is it really so bad?" he shot back, frustrated. "I'm trying to save people - the people I care about from dying!"

"Like Ahsoka," pointed out Sabine.

"Yes," he replied. "You weren't there, Sabine. You don't know how it feels to be powerless like that. Our enemies wield power like that, how are we supposed to fight back? Ahsoka was my friend! What use is this power if I can't protect the people that I love?"

"And how are you protecting those same people if you get yourself killed?" Sabine shouted. "Jedi are supposed to know better - you are supposed to know better! You're the best of us, Ezra! Kanan is always saying that you have to control these feelings, or they control you! You let your anger and grief over Ahsoka's loss get to you and almost lost yourself!"

She could feel her friend's hot stare. "You're one to talk about feelings," he countered. "I've been trying to speak with you for weeks. Kanan had to lock us in this airlock just to get you talking."

Sabine deflated, feeling the sting of truth in Ezra's words. "Yeah," she muttered. "I know."

"So, what?" he asked. "You're still scared of little old me?"

"Not just you," she said wearily.

"Well, what else is there?"

"I'm also scared of myself," Sabine said. "Okay?"

She could practically see the gears come to a grinding halt in his head. "What?" he asked, confused. "You're scared of . . . yourself?"

"Were you listening? What was the first thing I said to you?"

"That . . . you couldn't do anything to help me. All you could do was watch," Ezra recounted slowly.

"Yeah," said Sabine. "So don't talk to me about feeling powerless. You watched a friend disappear on Malachor without being able to do anything - and so did I. Only it was you with that Sith Holocron."

Chagrin radiated off Ezra like a heat wave. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "Being forced to leave Ahsoka to face Vader alone . . . that's how you felt seeing me succumb to my anger, wasn't it?"

Sabine leaned against him, relief washing over her. "Finally got it through your thick skull, di'kut."

She felt him reach through the darkness and grip her hand. "You helped me plenty of times, Sabine. You never left my side."

Sabine shook her head. "I was enabling you. There were many nights that I stood outside your door . . . I knew you were listening to the holocron. I wanted to barge inside and drag it away from you. I couldn't do it."

She swallowed. "Because I was scared."

"Of yourself?" he asked. "I still don't understand."

"Of my feelings," she whispered. "All this time, Ezra Bridger, you fit into this neat little box. And then Malachor happened. And now you don't fit anymore. You're too real."

"I'm . . . too real?" He sounded bemused. "What, was I an imaginary friend or something?"

She punched him lightly. "Don't laugh."

In the pitch black she could just make out Ezra putting his hands up in a placating gesture. "I'm not, I promise."

"Good," she growled. "It's just . . . you got complicated. You weren't supposed to be. I don't know how to act around you anymore. That's why I've been avoiding you. I'm sorry about that."

"Relationships are complicated," Ezra said. "You ran away when things got difficult, in the past."

"And I did it again. I'd rather be in a shootout with an army of stormtroopers than talk feelings. It's just easier."

"Well," Ezra said dryly, "that first skill is probably more important considering what's going on."

Sabine snorted. "Don't kid yourself. They're both important. Even with this war against the Empire. Emotional baggage can be deadly in a firefight, just like a well-aimed blaster bolt."

She squeezed his hand affectionately. "My feelings for you haven't changed, Ezra. We're still friends. We'll always be friends. It's just . . . complicated now."

"Okay," he said. "So . . . we'll take it slow, then. Think of it as a fresh start."

Sabine nodded. "I like that."

"I promise not to pick up anymore Sith Holocrons. You promise not to freeze me out when you're upset at me. Sound good?"

She laughed. "Sounds like a deal, goober."

"Good," he said seriously. "Now, let's get out of here. I think my leg's starting to get a cramp."

Sabine stood up, wincing at the protest from muscles that were idle far too long. With her fist, she banged on the airlock hatch three times. A few moments later, the hatch hissed open as the power returned.

Kanan stood there with Hera, a smug grin on his face. "Had a good talk?" he asked.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Someone's in a good mood considering he just locked two kids in an airlock without power."

"Happy to help," he replied cheerfully. Hera sighed, took him by the arm, and lead him away.

Sabine turned around to see Ezra rising on wobbly legs. "You coming?" she asked.

"Yeah. Hey - you keep calling me di'kut? Is that a Mandalorian term of endearment or something?"

"Oh," she said. She hadn't realized that some of her native tongue had slipped out while talking with him. "No, it's not. But I say it with affection when I use it for you."

"Thanks," he growled. She smiled mischievously at him.

He took a step forward - and tripped over a raised step. Caught off-balance, Ezra began to fall -

Sabine caught him.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Subtle Support

So still going through Veilguard, with whatever spoons I can spare. And apparently, despite every complaint that no one does enough or says enough or is reactive enough, I've had two very distinct indications that the Veilguard is very happy to step in and ensure that at least Rook's love life is going smoothly.

First it was Taash. We were on one of her personal quests, and I'd heard that this bit of banter existed but I didn't expect to get it quite so soon. Taash obviously assumes that Lucanis and Rook are already boning, so they're like, "Pop the wings next time. Take them flying. All non-binary people love flying". I understand that Taash says that whatever gender Rook is loves flying, but I do like how it comes across with a non-binary Rook, because when Lucanis says, "You like flying; your whole dragon thing", it feels like it vindicates Taash. Not that they need it specifically, but they kind of do, deep down where their insecurities still live. Taash is very, very keen on precision - on getting it right (they get that from their mother, I'm sure). So when Taash says that non-binary people love flying, and Lucanis says that Taash loves flying, I feel like Taash is internally nodding, like, "Right; I'm non-binary, and I love flying, so non-binary people love flying. I got this." And I imagine it makes them feel a little more confident in their identity.

And then Neve. I've read all about how Lucanis apparently still flirts with Neve even if not being romanced by a Rook, but I've never seen it. They're friendly, they banter, but not ... like that, if you get me? And that just got underlined when I was on my usual tendency to check the map for where colleagues are gathered outside their usual living spaces and go over to eavesdrop. (Seriously, if you only wait for the light to go on outside their spaces, you're missing out; check the map and eavesdrop.) So I see Lucanis and Neve in Neve's office and I think, "Oh, hey, maybe I'll finally see this 'Lucanis flirting with Neve even when romancing a Rook' thing I keep hearing about!"

Did I hear that? No.

Did I hear Neve note that Lucanis was smiling a lot more, elaborate that she reasoned that Rook was good for him, and, when Lucanis kind of sheepishly says, "I ... am starting to figure that out", say "Good. Just making sure" in a tone that suggests, "You'd better not fuck this up, assassin; I Know People"? Yes. Yes, I did. And it gave me warm fuzzies like you wouldn't believe.

I know it's not enough for everyone. I guess for me, I think it's the subtleties that make it. They hardly have time to really talk romance while they're trying to sort out their issues and save the world from effective gods. But it seeps out regardless. It's there in his notes, in his smiling more, in Taash noticing. I'm anticipating another romantic scene with eager anticipation. I like my slow burns; what can I say?

Anyway, I also got Mythal's essence, kicked the ass of a couple of dragons, and at some point have to go rescue some Dalish folks from Elgar'nan, because apparently he thinks that his followers are only good for sacrificing in a blood ritual. ...I hate him. Aaaaand I'd better get some sleep because it's going to be more work and more overtime tomorrow. No fucking wonder I'd rather be in Thedas right now.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Ready to rec some awesome fics that I read this month!! Feel free to add on with some of your own Bagginshield recs. 😁

January 2024 Rec List

T Rated:

Beyond the Pixels by Ticklesivory (Complete, 15K, 1ch.)- This is one of my new favorite AUs! Living in a post-apocalyptic world, Bilbo and Thorin meet in a virtual reality game that will change their lives. All the world building and lore of this AU is laid out beautifully, and I would love to read more building on Thorin and Bilbo's relationship.

Customer Service 101 by BiSquared (Complete, 4K, 1ch.)- I really enjoyed Thorin being the one working at the book store for a change. Thorin is working when he spies a cute guy who asks for his help escaping from a stalker. Honestly, its a lot cuter and more light-hearted than I summarized.

Defying Death (or at least the ones in charge) by Lucigoo89 (Complete, 15K, 1ch.)- I enjoyed the humor and emotion of this fic greatly. After his death, Bilbo refuses to move on until he reunites with his dwarven family. The level of sass coming off Bilbo in this fic is off the charts, and I love it!

The Gift of Hobbits by MoroseBarnacle (WIP, 22K, 5ch.)- Magical hobbits are one of my favorites! Bilbo has the power to bring people back from the dead and uses it regularly to revive his friends on the quest. I just love how they rally around their hobbit even before they found out what he could do. Found family wins.

Invisible vs. Indivisible by Moirai (Complete, 52K, 11ch.)- This was an indulgent re-read for me. Bilbo is captured by orcs but gets away using the ring only to discover his companions think him dead, and he can't find it in himself to make the reveal just yet. I always wished for a sequel to this, but it does end in a place that makes it enjoyable to imagine what happened on the rest of the quest.

Lord of Bones by Porphyrios (Complete, 6K, 1ch.)- This is one of those fics that you wonder how that much world building was packed into that one-shot. Due to an outdated dwarven law, the restoration crews are having trouble moving the bones of the dead dwarves which is where Bilbo comes in being that he's not a dwarf. Porphyrios does such an amazing job with dwarven politics and this is a sweet fic even with an atmosphere of sadness.

Spoonful of Sugar by RainyDayDecaf (Complete, 29K, 4ch.)- I have been looking for this fic for SO LONG! Without giving too much away, a prank Bilbo had pulled on Thranduil when they were still prisoners might be the secret to curing Thorin's goldsickness. This is just one of those fics that is so fun to read from beginning to end.

M Rated:

Backs to the Wall by Conkers (WIP, 62K, 13ch.)- I held off on this fic for a long time, not because I was worried I wasn't going to enjoy it, but because I knew how much it would have me foaming at the mouth. Missing the deadline, the Company splits up at Laketown with Thorin, Dwalin, Nori, and Bilbo remaining to earn some coin. I'm beside myself with the gentle, sweet moments of pre-Bagginshield that have me screaming.

The Kitchen Thief by mordelle (WIP, 44K, 17ch.)- This such a unique AU. Thorin is a baker who catches the thief stealing from him to discover that he's a hobbit and his One. There are so many great things about this fic but the 'nutty baker' line will always be my favorite.

Less Than the Best by Sullen_in_Love (Complete, 8K, 1ch.)- YES to all my favorite tropes. Thorin needs to find a dwarrowdam to marry and Bilbo takes over the interviews only to learn something horrifying: they all find Thorin ugly. Honestly, I'm so glad I clicked on this fic because it was a really enjoyable read.

E Rated:

Below the Belt by LordOfTheRazzles (Complete, 6K, 1ch.)- I hope everyone knows by now that Razzy and I talk, so I knew the gist of the fic before even opening it. Thorin needs help taking care of his injuries and so Bilbo helps him. However, the execution in this fic was just perfect. It's one of my new favorites for 'this scene'.

The Danger in Missing You by Fantasyinallforms (Complete, 5K, 1ch.)- In the best way possible, I forgot this was a smut fic. Bilbo is determined to help during a cave-in, distressing his friends and later, Thorin. Bilbo's actions at the beginning to save the trapped miners is just so refreshing and a great start! (The smut is pretty good too though. XD)

Of Palaces and Ruins by livelongandgetiton (Complete, 127K, 17ch.)- I am in my 3rd reread of this fic. Archeologist Bilbo Baggins is hired to nanny for the Durins to earn a spot on a dig in Erebor, but ends up falling in love with his employer. If I'm ever not bragging on this fic you might check on me because I LOVE IT!

Sleep Alone; Start All Over by vicious_summer (WIP, 18K, 1ch.)- I got super excited just by the summary for this fic. After an accident, Bilbo is the one who ends up losing about seven years worth of memories including the fact that he's married to the King Under the Mountain. I'm just always so impressed with vicious_summer's writing style as it has a more Book!Bilbo vibe.

Not Rated:

The Tale of Two Canines--Or When Dwalin Met Ori by BrightStarling (Complete, 16K, 10ch.)- A bit more Dwori, you definitely get more Bagginshield in the sequel. Thorin is a husky owned by Dwalin, Bilbo is a corgi owned by Ori, and a meeting in the park will bring these four together. It's just so cute having puppy Bagginshield!!

[gelarshiesprofruitboarder]

what quest for the missing spoon did you guys read

[megamindslair]

It's a Little Warm, Part 1

Moving my fics to @megamindsecretlair

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. There is some making out, unresolved tension! Bucky x Blackfem!reader. Plus Size Reader. Mentions of private parts but really mild. Cursing. Mild age gap. Reader is late 20s and Bucky is mid 30s. Soft Bucky. Part 1 of ?, I don't know how long this will take to wrap up. Slow burn to smut though. Some sentences are intentional AAVE.

Summary: Sam Wilson is your play uncle and has invited you and Bucky to stay at a cabin with him, Sarah, and the kids. Bucky was sweet enough to help with your bags. You also found yourself up in the wee hours of the morning with him.

Word Count: 4,221k

Read Part 2

A/N: I've been reading a lot of age gap fics at cabins and wanted to try my spin. Apologies if I miss any warnings or this is super corny. But here we go!

“Kinfolk!” Uncle Sam yelled and shoved past people in his quest to scoop you into his arms and spin you around. You yelped, not used to anyone swinging you around like a doll. You were short but far from petite and the sudden loss of your feet firmly planted to the ground made your stomach flip. 

“Put me down!” You yelled. You slapped at his massive arms but that only made him chuckle. Mercifully, he stopped turning and set you on your feet. “Look at you!” 

You rolled your eyes. “I just saw ya’ll last week!” 

His chuckle was quick as he threw his head back. “You barely come out of the house, I got to comment on the special occasion.”

You twist your lips and roll your eyes. “I see being Captain Chocolate has made you even cornier,” you said.

Uncle Sam laughed and threw his arm over your shoulder. “Oh, see you got jokes. I see working for that newspaper ain’t help with them lame ass nicknames. I thought you had a better vocabulary than that?” 

“Somehow I always forget it when I come around ya’ll,” you said. Uncle Sam only chuckled. “Where’s your bags?” 

“Got it in the car for now,” you said. 

Uncle Sam frowned. “Give me a minute, I’ll come help you,” he said. 

“I’m perfectly capable of bringing up my own bags,” you said. 

“That ain’t what I said. C’mon and say hi to Sarah. She’s glad there will be another woman this week,” he said. You follow Uncle Sam through the cabin, weaving through close friends of his and Aunt Sarah. 

The cabin had an open plan for the living room and dining room. People milled around watching a football game and sitting on large, comfortable couches. The dining room was cottage chic as a few of the elderly people sat around it talking and fanning themselves. Kids nearly pushed you over as they ran through the cabin.

“Say ‘excuse me’ next time!” Uncle Sam called after them. A chorus of “excuse me’s” rang out as you waved them off. Finally, you made it through the sea of people into the kitchen where various aunties were passing around bowls and spoons and tinfoil. 

They smiled at you and you were passed around like the last piece of pie as everyone got in their hugs and kisses and well wishes. The last person to hug you was Aunt Sarah. She hugged you just as hard as Uncle Sam did. 

“Damn, ya’ll would’ve thought I died or something,” you said. 

Sarah laughed. “Oh my god! I’m just so happy it’s not just me staying here this week. Sam gets his puppy, I should get one too,” Sarah said and laughed, pushing her braids behind her ears. 

Before you could ask what she meant, a booming grandfatherly voice called out for Sam. He told them that he’d be right back and headed out of the open side door towards the backyard. Smoke rose into the air as a full barbeque station was being managed by an elderly man with a cap and New Balance shoes on. You shook your head. Every time.

You opened your mouth to ask what Sarah meant by the puppy comment but movement to your left caught your eye. A man entered the kitchen in a soft burgundy shirt and jeans and large dusty boots. He scanned the room before spotting Sarah and broke into a wide grin.

He was simply gorgeous. It was the type of smile that could stop traffic. Perhaps even cure cancer if he grinned hard enough. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he approached. 

“You must be Sam’s niece,” he said and extended his hand. 

“Uh yes, nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes,” you said and took his hand. His hand was rough and calloused and slid across your soft palm, making your hand tingle. 

He smirked and shook his head. “Ugh, Mr. Barnes makes me sound old. I’m not that old. Bucky is fine,” he said.

“You are that old, you old dinosaur,” Uncle Sam said, materializing right next to you. He clapped you on the back, making you jump. “He’s so old, Moses asked him to lead the choir,” Uncle Sam said and laughed.

The group laughed and Bucky rolled his eyes. “At least I don’t have any gray hairs,” Bucky said. 

“Ay man, you take that back. That’s hurtful,” Uncle Sam said and smoothed down his faded haircut. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off of Bucky Barnes. It had been wild hearing about the man from Uncle Sam and Aunt Sarah, but seeing him in person was an entirely different experience. 

Aunt Sarah leaned her hip against the counter and looked between the two men. “See, Sam gets his puppy and I get another human being to talk to. Once you get these two started, they keep going on and on,” she said. 

You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head. “Bucky’s staying with us for the week too. It’s rare they come home at the same time these days. So we’re gonna make a thing out of it,” Aunt Sarah explained the unspoken question lingering in the air.

“Ah, gotcha.” 

“Hey, we bring the sunshine and the good vibes. All day, baby. Now, pass over the keys,” Uncle Sam said and held his hand out. 

You shook your head. “I can get it, it’s not a big deal.” 

The cook for the festivities called for Uncle Sam again. He groaned and nodded towards Bucky. “Wrestle the keys from her so we can help with her bags and take it upstairs. She’s stubborn.” 

“Stubborn doesn’t work on us, doll,” Bucky said and turned that mega-watt smile on you. You sighed and fought to keep all kinds of dirty thoughts out of your mind. Could super soldiers read minds? 

“Hey, hey, hey! None of that. Paws off!” Uncle Sam said.

“Oh my god,” you groaned. Your cheeks instantly flamed and you were grateful for your darker skin. It hid the obvious signs of a blush. You turned to Aunt Sarah for help who laughed and shook her head. She gave you a pitying look as if to say she wouldn’t be any help. She looked Bucky up and down and winked at you. 

“You’re not really my uncle, you know,” you said. 

“I’m your uncle in the ways that matter. Don’t make me bring a hose in here. It’s hard enough keeping the aunties off of him.” 

The cook called out for Uncle Sam again. He gave them a warning glare before you turned back to Bucky who held out his metal hand. It had intricate designs etched into it and seemed really, really advanced. You half wondered if it was from that famous Wakanda. You’d just about die to have a chance to go there one day. 

“I can get it myself. You don’t have to bother,” you said. You backed away, bumping into random partygoers talking in the kitchen. The press of bodies seemed to double as you backed away towards the front door. You knew you should have brought your things inside earlier. But you were already running late and just wanted to unwind from the long drive. 

Bucky stalked forward, patient as a hunter, with his arm still outstretched. His grin turned into a patient smirk. 

“Right, being stubborn doesn’t work on you,” you said. 

His answering smirk was enough to melt your panties. You looked away from him. If he couldn’t read your mind, he could at least read your facial expressions. And none of your thoughts were holy. 

You dug into the back pocket of your shorts and slapped your keys into his hand. “Thanks, doll,” he said.

You had, hand to god, actual shivers run down your spine. His voice had the right amount of gravel in it to skate over your nerve endings. And you weren't even standing that close to him. 

Bucky held out his hand for you to lead the way and you took the opportunity to calm your racing heart and nerves. He was a solid wall of heat at your back as you maneuvered your way to the front door. Your sandals slapped against the hardwood floor but even with his boots, he was silent. You felt like a bull in a china shop. 

You gave yourself a pep talk. Somehow, someway, you were supposed to survive an entire week with that. You supposed it was true. You should never meet your idols. You might get the overwhelming urge to climb them like a tree. 

Okay, thoughts like that weren’t going to help. You supposed you could limit your contact as much as possible. Hide out in the room or down by the lake. Anything. As long as it meant you weren’t right next to the man. 

You led Bucky outside and towards the makeshift parking lot. A dizzying array of nearly every make and model crowded the rented cabin’s lawn and rocky driveway. You had to park a little ways away and walk down to the cabin. Making it to your beat up Honda, you waved to it. 

Bucky smirked and popped the trunk. You had two suitcases, plus your laptop bag. You moved to grab one and Bucky tsked at you. He tsked at you as if you were a child! 

“You don’t like people doing things for you, do you?” Bucky asked with a smirk. He bent down to retrieve your bags. He didn’t even grunt at the weight. This was your poor attempt to pack light. But since you were a big girl, your clothes didn’t roll up all cute and tiny. You had to adjust and shove things until they fit enough for the suitcase to close. 

“I’m not used to it. Makes me feel weird,” you said. 

“Why’s that?” 

“I don’t know. Makes me feel useless. I feel like I should help,” you said. He got the second suitcase down and slipped your laptop bag over his shoulders. You closed the trunk.

“So you were going to haul all of this to the cabin tonight by yourself?” 

“Yes?” You hadn’t meant to make it a question, but he asked as if he were scolding you. You fought an eye roll and bit the inside of your cheek. He was being nice. But it still grated. As far as the City of Nawlins was concerned, you were a full growed adult. 

“It gets pretty dark out here. It could’ve gotten dangerous. A random car could hit you or a wild animal could trip you up,” he said. 

“You always so fatalistic?” 

“I’ve had reason to be,” he said.

Right. Doofus. “I am so-”

“Don’t be,” he said with a smirk. “Once you fight scaly purple monster-aliens, it’s hard not to see danger everywhere. Just because you can do things by yourself doesn’t mean you can’t accept a little help. Okay?” 

You nodded slowly, feeling like a proper idiot. Of course the man was fatalistic. You didn’t know everything about him. Most of it came from Antman’s book or Uncle Sam’s stories, and it wasn’t the whole story. Still, it was enough to know that Bucky had more than enough reason to be wary of potential danger. 

You took a deep breath and avoided looking at him. He carried your bags into the house and up the stairs. He nodded towards a door a few paces down the hallway. You opened it to find a spacious room, decorated with a nautical theme. You smiled at the blue and white scheme, the anchor pictures on the wall, and the goofy full sized bed. 

Bucky gently set your bags on the floor and your laptop bag on the small desk. As he leaned over, his shirt rode up a bit revealing creamy skin and subtle muscles. 

“What’s that, doll?” Bucky asked as he straightened. 

“What?” You asked, a little too loud. You looked at him and he put his hands on his waist as he surveyed the room.

“I thought you said something,” he said. Did he have to draw attention to his tiny ass waist? Seriously. This man couldn’t be real. It was like he stepped out of a smut book. He was the definition of sexy as sin. Everything he did was seductive. 

“Figured you’d get the better room,” he muttered with a sigh. But you got the sense that he was teasing. You looked around and noticed the huge window. You went to it and peeked out over the backyard. Uncle Sam was leading the group dance along to a Tupac song. 

You turned with a smile to tell Bucky but you noticed his eyes dart up to your face. Was he…?

No way. You shook your head. “Where’s your room?” You asked.

“Right across the hall. Just holler if you need anything, I’m a light sleeper.” 

Your mind wandered to how he would look asleep. His dark hair tousled and floofy. You bet he slept without a shirt on. He seemed the type. Plus he was like a furnace. He probably got hot. Which meant…

“Uh right. That must suck. I sleep like a little brick,” you said. Your cheeks burned again. 

“I haven’t slept that well since before the war,” he said and shrugged. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine. I probably just need some water. It’s a little warm in here. I mean outside. I mean today,” you said with a laugh. You looked at the floor and closed your eyes. Yup. Operation Avoid Bucky At All Costs commenced now. 

“Well come on. We better get downstairs before Sam steals all the ribs like last time. I thought food lasted longer at cookouts?” Bucky asked. 

You laughed. “Rule number one of cookouts: make your to-go plate before your real plate,” you said. 

He backed out of the room with a grin. You followed and closed your bedroom door behind you. 

“You’ll have to explain that one,” he said. 

You explained the intricacies of cook out etiquette as you headed down the stairs and on the way outside. Bucky listened and didn’t interrupt no matter how many side stories and funny anecdotes you told. Once outside, Uncle Sam waved from the dance area. 

Uncle Sam moved and shimmied his way through dances, making everyone around him laugh. He wore long, navy shorts and a light blue shirt. You shook your head as he tried to twerk and made everyone nearly fall out with laughter. 

You stood side by side with Bucky as you watched. You kept all of your focus on Uncle Sam. You absolutely did not notice how heavenly Bucky smelled or how he blocked the sun for you. 

Aunt Sarah called your name and you looked behind you. She sat at a table and waved. She pointed to a plate she made for you. Your stomach chose then to grumble. You waved back to acknowledge her. 

“I better…” 

“I’ll catch you around,” he said with a small smile. He headed off into the swarm of people with ease saying hi and clapping people on the back. 

You took a deep breath. Maybe food was exactly what you needed. If you were too busy stuffing your face, you didn’t have time to think about Bucky Barnes. 

💘

You were burning up. For such an open room, the southern heat was eating you alive. You had already kicked off most of your pjs, leaving nothing but an oversized T-shirt and your panties. In a minute, you were going to take that off too, but you desperately needed some water.

You got out of bed, fumbling around in the dark. You stubbed your toe on the corner of a dresser and bit the inside of your cheek to keep from yowling. You danced in place until the sharp pain subsided.

You had no idea what time it was but after the party, cleaning up, and trading stories around the kitchen table, everyone peeled off for bed around two or three in the morning. The sun wasn’t yet up so you only managed to get an hour or so of sleep. 

Your tongue was dry and thick. You moved it around, trying to get your spit going. That last tequila shot definitely did you in. You sighed heavily as you padded down the hallway and the stairs. 

The silence was near deafening as you crossed the wide open space. The cabin was dark but there was enough ambient light from the open curtains letting in moon light. You could see enough to cross the living room towards the kitchen.

You opened the fridge door and bent over to look for leftover water bottles. You danced a bit as you tried to focus long enough to find a bottle. The fridge blew cold air that washed over your flushed skin. You scratched absently at your bonnet. 

Finally finding some water, you uncapped it and stood up to down nearly half the bottle. You turned around and screamed, jumping back into the fridge door. Bucky sat at the kitchen table. The light from the fridge gave him an otherworldly appearance.

Bucky stood up instantly and crossed the small space towards you. He held out his hands to steady you. “You okay? I’m sorry,” he said. 

You slapped him away and scrambled for the nearest light switch. “You scared me half to death!” 

Miraculously, you drank too much for the water to slosh out of the bottle so none of it spilled. You clutched the cool bottle to your racing heart. Your hands shook and you took deep breaths to calm down. 

Bucky had the good nerve to wince before closing the fridge door. “I’m truly sorry,” he said.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked.

Bucky chuckled. “Well, I wasn’t trying to scare you. A random voice in the night would’ve scared you more,” he said. 

You flopped into the nearest kitchen chair. You were too hot and too shaken up to care that you wore a bonnet around Bucky. There was no need to avoid him now. You were about as sexy as a paper clip. 

He dropped back into his seat. Now that you were calming down, you noticed that true to your daydreams, his hair was pleasantly tousled. He didn’t wear a shirt but he did have dog tags hanging from his neck. His metal arm gleamed in the low light. 

“Couldn’t sleep either?” You asked.

He smirked. “Not really,” he said. 

“Nightmares? Want to talk about it? I’ve been told I’m an excellent listener,” you said.

He absently rubbed a spot on the wooden table. “Wasn’t a nightmare this time. Actually had a dream. For the first time in a long time.” 

You looked at him as he held a smirk, but there was no humor in it. You sat patiently, giving him the space to talk about it or not. It didn’t seem like he was inclined, so you sipped your water and listened to the subtle animal sounds from outside. 

“It wasn’t anything fancy. Quite boring actually. I dreamt I was back in Wakanda. It was peaceful there,” he said softly.

A million questions danced in your head. But you nodded and smiled at him to continue. “There was a small lake where I used to sit for hours and just be. I didn’t get a lot of chances to do that in my life. Being here just made me miss it, I guess,” he said.  

“I get that. Dream freaked you out enough to come sit in the dark by your lonesome?” You asked.

He chuckled and nodded. “I can’t always trust what’s in my head. Sometimes I need to ground myself and I’m still getting used to how soft beds are these days,” he said.

“Oh, they make them firmer. Like sleeping on an ironing board,” you said. 

Bucky chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve slept on worse,” he said. 

“Ugh, no thank you. Give me the softest bed you can find. I wanna disappear into an infinite void of clouds and pillows and blankets,” you said. 

Bucky grinned and looked at you. “Don’t you have to be this tall to even climb into the bed?” He held up his hand to exaggerate how short you were. You stuck your tongue out at him. 

“Next to you, everyone’s short,” you said.

“And yet you’re still the shortest,” he said and laughed. You leaned up and slapped his regular arm. 

“You’ve been hanging around Uncle Sam too long,” you said.

Before you could pull back, Bucky grabbed your wrist and prevented you from moving back. He rubbed lazy circles as he looked at you.

“Why do you call him Uncle?” 

Your heart rate sped up for different reasons. His touch was feather soft and sent all kinds of crazy signals to your belly. 

“I grew up around their family for years. But when Sam joined the Air Force, I called him Uncle Sam as a joke. Kind of stuck. He already saw himself as my older brother so we kept it. Sarah felt left out so I called her Auntie,” you explained.

Bucky hummed and nodded. He glanced down at the circles he was making on your wrist. 

“Where’s your family?” He asked.

You shrugged. “Deadbeat, emotionally abusive parents. I ditched them a long time ago and I don’t talk to them.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“S’okay. Good riddance. Sam and Sarah and the boys are all I need. If you’re gonna keep coming around, I guess that includes you too,” you said.

Bucky chuckled and finally released your wrist. “You should probably try to get some sleep. Apparently, Sam has plans scheduled for the whole week,” Bucky said softly. 

“Sam loves his plans. You gonna get some rest?” You asked.

“I’ll try,” he said. 

You nodded. You stood up and moved to walk past him. But you stopped and bit your lip. You reached up and stroked his cheek. 

“I hope you get some sleep,” you said. You didn’t quite want the spell to break yet. It was early morning and the house was quiet. In the moments you spent down here, your body had cooled. However, standing so close to him while his clean soapy scent enveloped you, your body heated up for entirely different reasons. 

You slid your fingers under his chin and made him look up at you. His lips parted as he looked from between your eyes to your lips. He sighed as he trailed his fingers along your thighs. You made a squeak as the cold metal of his arm touched your heated skin. 

He skirted his fingers up and beneath the hem of your shirt, but he didn’t press further. He drew more lazy circles into your skin. 

Fuck it. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He sighed again, against your lips, and tugged you closer until you were straddling his thick thigh. You braced one hand on his other thigh and the other around his metal shoulder. 

He devoured you in a strong kiss, teeth clashing against each other. His tongue swiped against your lower lip before you opened for him. His tongue dived inside and slid against your own. 

His metal arm wrapped around you to keep you steady. His hand was better than a brace as it kept you from slipping off of him. His other hand came up to stroke your jaw before wrapping around your neck.

Not even you could keep the needy moan from escaping your lips. His lips moved over yours with expert care. Your hands came up to feather into his hair and trail down to the nape of his neck where you lightly scratched him.

A shudder moved through him that you felt all the way to your pussy. You shamelessly grinded on his leg. There was nothing but his sweatpants and your panties keeping you from skin on skin contact but you were sure he could feel how damp you were already. You’d be embarrassed except your thoughts were consumed with him. With touching him and feeling your nipples rub against his bare chest.

As soon as the kiss started, Bucky pulled away from you. Your harsh breaths mingled with his as you both panted. He plucked your hands from around his neck and held them in between you like a silent prayer. He got a faraway look in his eyes as he stared at your hands. 

He leaned down and kissed your fingers before leaning back and staring at the ceiling. Almost as if he were staring straight into Uncle Sam’s room. 

“You should go back upstairs,” he panted. 

You wanted to be angry. He didn’t get to just dismiss you. You practically threw yourself at him and that realization was enough to dump ice water in your veins. How embarrassing. 

You got up slowly and nodded. Without saying another word, you left the kitchen. Cool air hit the sweat along your face and neck and you shivered from the lack of heat. His heat. But you were a grown woman. You would be okay. 

You trudged all the way to your room and closed the door before falling face first into bed with a soft groan. 

What, the actual fuck just happened?

Read Part 2

[commanderquinn]

meta: sam coe - post-campaign analysis

allllrighty i am officially post-campaign so time for first thoughts. since im still collecting my feelings/opinions on the main quest i dont want to go super into that. i wanna wait and consolidate into a deep dive on that one. BUT i am a fic writer with a fixation on socioeconomics, intergenerational trauma, and more specifically the phenomenon of atheists clinging to their religious parents morals because they haven't taken the time to evaluate their biases and the reasons they still hold them

translation: the silver spoon space cowboy is an interesting concept. poory executed in the case of starfield, sadly, but great framework for fandom to chop the head off of and bring to their own individual comfort interpretations.

this meta will include spoilers for the following:

-sam's questline and the npcs involved

-his romance

-cora, the safety storyline around her, and how she's the best part of the space game

-why bethesda was fucking stupid to turn the cowboys into cops when they have the perfect opportunity for not that. i went in hoping for retired/reformed army rangers fed up with war looking to defend their home from fascism given the "han solo simulator" marketing, but all i got was this lousy ass rendition of the texas rangers, which i for SURE did not want

-i WONT be going into detail about the main plot for this post, just fyi. i wanna save that, and sam's relation to it, for its own essay. id still recommend not reading meta's until you finish the game tho

-i miss obsidian's writing. this game made me want to play outer worlds for the 100th time. that will probably come up a lot

this is probably gonna sound more than a bit scattered and off the fucking plot for the first section, but bare with me, im making a point eventually i promise. gotta make sure we're all on the same page first.

now that ive done a majority of his content, it's clear what the intent was for sam and i applaud it. i like it when good hearts in bad systems spot the fundamental flaws and decide to abandon it entirely, or work to change it. i hate perfect characters. i hate characters that have no growth to find. sam is a great character for showing the awesome power of a perspective change. but damn. what a waste when you're talking about a format where a writer is constricted to:

-an exact conversation trigger (bethesda games have always relied on interrupt & player approach, and i didnt notice any variation on game engine front but i wont know until they release the ck so)

-word limit on all responses (yes, you can make long dialogues in engine. but those words still have to be f u n d e d from a dev standpoint. words are not free in video games. capitalism sucks for art.)

-multiple conversation branches that ALL have to circle back to the original topic (they have to follow a set pattern of establishing a subject, then the players possible responses to that subject, the npcs responses to those responses, AND provide a seamless, one dialogue tie-in path to the next branch. it sounds super easy until you're the shmuck writing it, and then it doesnt feel so easy anymore)

-get approximately two personal quests with, what was it, 12 motion scripted scenes? (im watching other peoples pts now so ill try to remember to count, but it was. hmm. lack luster imo. im not saying quantity is vital. im a bioware fanatic, i know the power of quality when its actually delivered. i didnt have any moment like that for sams quests and it was kind of crushing. ill get into it.)

-appeal to a wide enough audience to obtain profit by holding back eXtReMe ViEwS (id like to point out that there is, at this exact moment in time, an active pr campaign (and a few scattered gaming content creators) surrounding starfield talking about how pronouns are politics and should be left out of gaming. over a setting flag in a save file. you literally dont even have to press a button about it. like, you pick your characters body. masc bodys are auto assigned m pronouns. fem bodies are auto assigned f pronouns. you literally dont even have to SEE the button, and it never gets brought up. the only purpose it serves is so the game knows what voice lines to fire. that. is. it.)

im not going to humor the "thats dumb, bethesda makes political games" contribution to the argument.

i get straight people think they're being super helpful and witty on that one, but i think the world would collectively benefit from allies taking just a few extra seconds before standing on that soapbox to maybe consider that calling existence "politics" might be, gee idk, insulting. maybe more than a lil dehumanizing. maybe super easily solved by just NOT giving into their parents obsession with playing devils advocate. i think if maybe allies could shut the fuck up for a minute or two at a time and go look for voices of authority within the communities they're defending instead of trying to talk over them, that'd probably work out better. might help cut out the completely useless middle man their parents taught them to be when they drilled home "you have to respect everyone's opinion"

no the fuck you do not, actually. i, as someone on this earth attempting to be a compassionate person, owe people a chance at understanding. i do not, under any circumstance, owe someone any kind of respect WHATSOEVER if they cannot respect me as a human being. full stop. i dont owe it to them, i dont owe it to their religion, i dont owe it to the government they try to establish. i do not owe respect to people attempting to oppress me. i never have and i never will.

but remember. there is context to be found in the passing of time. yes, you need to tell grandma to stop being racist. no, you do not need to banish grandma to the nursing home if there's still a chance that she's willing to sit and listen. a chance that she'll empathize with social perspectives that the racist society she was raised in never allowed her to have. breathe and give grandma the chance. then send her to the home if she's still racist.

(yes that was an analogy for how i imagine a perspective conversation with jacob would go. i do not have high hopes of that man finding self awareness given. well. who he is as a person.)

now. if you've played through sam's content, you already know why im bringing all of that up, but lets put together a list of all the things that Make Sam Coe Who He Is before we wrap it all up in a pretty bow that hopefully reads a lot less scattered than this "yo society got some trauma actually" lead up ive dumped on you

quick interrupt just for me: i love that im back on tumblr where i dont really have to give all that much of a fuck about making sense. any audience i could find here is equally unhinged so mostly i just have to format it in a way that makes your brain not hurt. sorry if you dont have adhd <3

1: lets talk about cora's hair.

im going to make the race observation because its bothering me from a dev standpoint AND the gamer crowd is already starting to make cuck memes which sucks to see.

i get that this doesnt matter in a colonialism scifi future where a service like enhance exists and we're talking about two rangers that apparently went under cover regularly, but it matters in the context of how sam was handled in a 2020 era commercial, creative environment. im just going to MENTION that cora coe's biological mother (that jab was me not liking her as a person, not me giving a shit that she's white) is paler than pale, and sam does NOT look like some of his earlier promo images. bethesda as a company also has a very long history of making characters arguably tan to avoid this shit.

9/16 edit: was asked for source, heres the exact image im referencing, which is still his set image on the starfield wiki to date:

(im going to preemptively warn any white artists building the urge to argue over this: you DO NOT want to die on a hill about lighting for this one, fucking trust me. thats not what this conversation is, and if you dont understand that as a White Artist, you need to sit this one out until you understand the full weight of the conversation and the profound effect of media treating skin color like a rare diversity accessory. bethesda has a very very long history of this. their last major story title, fallout 4, (76 was a money grab made in the other studio and i barely want to call it a game) had a whopping total of two black characters in its main cast, and both of them acted in subservient roles so please. please please please just. stop trying to defend bethesda on this one. its dehumanizing, cowardly, and malicious in this day and age. i promise im not trying to bite anyones head off here, im just Old And Tired when it comes to suburbanites in fandom.)

i think having solomon be canonically black would have been a really important aspect. i think it would have given the opportunity to show white people why its fucked up that they get SO EXCITED to save war mementos (or in the case of starfield a nasa memento) and will go on and on about how vital it is to save that piece of history, but when you bring up memorializing the importance of race as it pertains to human history and cultural history/pride, they suddenly start getting Very Uncomfortable and throw out phrases like "what does it matter we're all human" while standing next to the gun their grandfather smuggled home from the war

there is no brightness slider on pc and i havent gone reshade tweaking so everything is still washed out on my end (dont worry, as an rtx user, imma be makin a rant post on that) b u t. cora coe has a pale as fuck mother and a vaguely tan father with blue eyes and straight hair, meanwhile my precious angel has a darker complexion and curls that look like they're closing in on the 3c range so like. im getting vibes that sammy boy mighta been whitewashed during game dev, and thats about as far into THAT topic as im gonna bother to venture for this post.

2: his dad

were we supposed to have more daddy issues content??? istg it feels like there was the initial map talk and then nothing. im not saying that i cant pull blood from a stone and give you an entire essay on that glimpse of family trauma just from a few lines of dialogue, but still. feels like thats maybe something that should have gotten more detail.

"no forgiveness between me and my old man. it's uh... coe tradition."

oh boy. oh boy oh boy oh boy. what a line to start his personal quest

before we go ANY FURTHER im gonna drop a reference to one of my favorite aaron sorkin scenes of all time. its from the movie he did about the chicago seven, and i think it fits VERY well when having a conversation about how sam is shaped by his father

unfortunately the exact scene i want to show isnt clipped anywhere easy i could find, so here's an article that talks about that scene specifically if you want more context but dont want to watch the whole movie. what we're really focused on is this:

which is a scene where a fictional account of bobby seale, the leader of the black panther party at the time of the chicago 7 trial, said that above quote to a fictional account of tom hayden while they were having a conversation about how the stakes of this trial are life and death for him as a black man, but little more than a family dispute and a dark spot on their records for the (all white) chicago 7.

its a GREAT continuation of sorkin’s fascination around father son conflicts (he covered it a time or two during his writing days as west wings original creator, which is a great political show id strongly rec) and it really really works when used in comparison to those rebellion days sam had that he still flagellates over

sam was a privileged kid without a foundation of emotional support or a safe environment to vent to. he didnt have the words needed to communicate what he was feeling and thinking and experiencing. he didnt have the means to express himself in a way that wasn't immediately criticized by the people in his life. it doesnt take a degree in psych to figure out that sam first ran for the stars to run from his father. and it sounds like that was tradition

from the MOMENT YOU MEET HIM, jacob is full stop "my way or the highway" until you hit him with the good ol bethesda persuasion and his disposition pulls a 180 to hand you the next plot device

sam: "you know why im here."

jacob: "oh? and what's that? you come to your senses? realize where you ought to be for once?"

w o w

i wonder why sam never felt safe in his own home. i wonder why he doesnt feel safe leaving cora there. i wonder why that miserable fucking attitude and guilt has sam convinced that jacob will be the worst possible thing for his curious daughter's self esteem.

yes, grandparents sip a different kind of koolaid when it comes to their grandkids. no, that is not enough to protect that child from that much intergenerational trauma. sam's made a bad choice keeping cora in space, but he's made an EXCELLENT choice keeping her away from jacob.

forget "showing respect" to his son's choices, jacob won't give them the time of day. he brushes off constellation and wont go meet them for himself, he insists that cora being "in her family home" is the only priority (isnt THAT telling) and, as if that wasnt enough to prove he's incapable of empathy, the fact that he outright, direct fucking quote during that first scene with him, says to sam's face

"the only mistake im seeing here is you"

fuck anyone who walked away from that scene of a parent saying that to their own kid and had the response of "i dont understand why sam wont let jacob take care of cora." fuck you, genuinely from the bottom of my heart, if that was your reaction.

i looked for opportunities to get sam to talk about what the rest of those "30 plus years of experience with the man" really looked like after that. the fact that it was used as a plot device without any (from what I COULD FIND in my first pt, if i find any ill edit this) kind of dialogue discussion about that trauma around his father's behavior/mentality and the terrible influence it had is such a waste. chances are!!!!!! id fucking agree with him!!!!!!!!!! SO TELL THEM TO ME BETHESDA!!!!!! give me the chance to storm back into that house with the full story and let that geriatric fuck know why he will not be allowed back into my daughters life (yeah we're gonna be calling cora our daughter on this one bc, again, she's the best thing in the game) until he can learn to be a safe emotional environment for her

and THEN, at the end of the romance, the wrinkly mf drops a "hey can you go over sam's head and make the parenting decisions now" 20 minutes before your vows get exchanged in his living room (WE'RE GONNA TALK ABOUT THAT MESS OF A WEDDING LMAO ITS A LOT but im probably gonna save it for another sam post where i talk more in depth about why packing a complicated romance in that tightly just Dont Work). like wow. wowowowwow. if that doesnt perfectly sum up how he views the dusty's (shhh i really hope that name catches on pls i keep seeing ppl use captain instead its heartbreaking) role in the family now, and confirm how he's always viewed his own son, idk what does

3: lillian "i can abandon my kid and demand she be taken care of in the same breath" hart

i was originally going to go into hella detail on his relationship with his ex but honestly i think im just gonna leave a few paragraphs and not touch on her again bc its bad for my blood pressure.

okay, here's the deal. im biased in the sense that i had a mother with attachment issues and lets just say that his ex is worth about as much to me as a pile of dogshit. it'd be one thing if she had that moment of "oh. sam and cora bond really well and i dont fit" and decided to look at that and evaluate if she wanted to continue trying to be a parent.

but she didnt have a moment of reflection. she didnt talk to a therapist. she didnt have a discussion with sam. she went back to work and decided "oh well, my kid doesnt like me" and then left her daughter with an open wound and no shot at closure. which is just. wow. that's active abandonment. she WALKED OUT of cora's life because she couldn't stomach the idea that she didnt immediately win over her daughter without any effort to connect to her.

then she has the nerve to yell at sam for not doing the best for cora. like bitch, you cant even consistently answer the phone??? what are you on??? she's REPEATEDLY broken cora's heart with false promises, and clearly made no effort to truly atone for that given just HOW angry sam is ALL the times he brings it up.

and she does it all for what????? a beat cop reputation and some shiny medals????? like shut the fuck up with that righteous indignation piglet, you're killing smugglers under someone's made up authority to protect COMMERSE, not creating galactic peace. the idea that THAT SHIT is worth more to her than her own daughter having a mother who's around for all her life milestones is inFURIATING and id fucking deck her if i could.

the fact that there's zero chance to call her out other than one single "thats a pretty awful thing to say" option is a real cop out from bethesda. they realized they put a woman in a position where she could be really, truly yelled at for something like child care, and chickened out on following through with it so they wouldnt take any heat.

thats gross and should piss you the fuck off, by the way. that sure the fuck isnt what equality looks like by any measure. you don't empower women by acting like they're infallible creatures you cant call out for being flawed. and you sure as shit dont empower the next generation of women by forgiving their abusers.

4: cora's safety

which brings us to the big sticky: sam is a disaster and i DONT think that keeping cora on a combat-active spaceship is right. i think she'd be much better off living in constellation hq (aside from the main plot obvsly) with a constant open comm to her dad and the ability to bring her to outposts and secured sights.

the problem with the biomother's abandonment isnt the distance. its the lack of attempt to connect. its the lack of forming a bond. its the fact that she had zero desire to understand her child once she figured out her child didnt "love her the most" when thats literally not a thing. the problem was never the physical space, and it wouldnt have to be in sam's case, either.

he's a dad that's there for cora day in and day out, he just never got the chance to grow out of the panic stage of a parent worried the first fever is going to kill the baby. he didn't have his dad because he had to get out to protect himself, he doesnt have a mom because of how long she's been dead, and lillian checked the fuck out at an early stage apparently. so sam was left to be the nervous wreck trying to keep history from repeating itself. the man's flying blind in the face of all the combined generational trauma of himself, his father, and his ex, all while trying not to fuck up shaping a human life.

you're damn fucking right he keeps cora glued to his side, i legitimately do not think his own ptsd would allow him to do otherwise without someone like the dusty to come and and go "hey dude, maybe its time we read some emotional intelligence and trauma books so we can start getting cora into a stable environment for literally the first time in her life? also im going to teach her gun safety for my own sanity because you keep letting her walk all over you and its scaring the fuck out of me thinking my daughter is going to try to raid a pirate ship at 15 because no one taught you proper boundaries."

5: his morals

its been 30+ years and his father wont let go of arguing and micromanaging long enough to try to understand his son. lillian is a workaholic who believes her only inherit value is what she can provide to an organization that views living, breathing human beings as occasionally expendable while screaming about its pursuit of freedom and equality.

sam coe is a man who got told what he was supposed to be his entire life, tripped into drugs and crime in an angry, sheltered act of rebellion, and walked away from it all with a very skewed, very flawed interpretation of morality as a result.

lillian and his father are the clear moral compasses in his life. like yeah, sure, he'll talk about how cora is his driving force until he's blue in the face. and he's not lying!!! he's not even technically wrong. she is his active motivation day in and day out. but she is not his Morality. she hasn't developed enough as a person to be able to be that kind of beacon. she's a kid rushing herself through childhood because she thinks that will make her better and no one in her life recognizes it enough to stop it. she shouldnt have to be the moral guide for someone who's supposed to be guiding her

sam cant let go of the ranger envy. he couldnt stomach being around it, but he cant look at that discomfort long enough to identify why. he can walk into a bank and plain as day go "ah, don't you hate the smell of capitalism," but he can't bring himself to blink the stars out of his eyes long enough to ask why the rangers are so willing to put smugglers to death without trial. sam has enough awareness to identify the system is flawed, but he doesnt have the guts to really stare that down

he'll make cracks about walter having too much money and influence, but he wont actually mention how he and his wife are the root cause of an extraordinary amount of pain and suffering and perfectly avoidable manslaughter as a result of their business. i get that constellation runs as a dont as dont tell organization, but if sam's going to give me shit about nabbing a paper weight from a guy's desk, i think we should talk about how he doesnt display anger for walter's business practices.

sam coe, at his heart, is a dreamer who doesn't want to look too close at things. he was taught that some things just Are, and looking for too many answers will find you trouble. he's got the spirit of an explorer dampened by a lifetime spent under cops.

you can hear it in his voice whenever he talks about how proud he is of cora for being a goddamn prodigy. you can hear the wonder and the excitement there. you can hear the curious kid in him that probably got pushed out of the way while he was trying to shape himself into a Proper Coe

i think sam coe is a dreamer who was forcibly taught to fear learning as a child, and thats the real tragedy of him.

so let's start to tie our bow here.

sam is a man who, in a way that only a privillaged kid can, stumbled into neon's life of drugs and smuggling and self harm through destructive behavior with both eyes firmly shut.

he didn't fall into drugs after a lifetime of being submersed in the culture of it. he didnt take them because he grew up surrounded by people that just knew that's all life was ever going to hold. he didnt get into smuggling because he was starving. he didnt take on his first "criminal act" because there was a life and death battle going on somewhere in his life.

this man was drowning in guilt and shame centered around not "being a proper coe" by the time he was free of his father's control, by all accounts. you can hear how much self hatred he has over the memory of that time in his life. look, im not going to say that age and recovery doesnt come with regret, but he talks about it like degeneracy and something to be guilted about rather than just... living life. like so what you did some drugs?? so what you did a capitalism no no?????

corporations arent people. you shouldnt steal from them because itll put YOU at risk, but under no circumstance should anyone hold onto any guilt for stealing from them. money is fake and capitalism murders people every hour of the day. fuck the system, its fucking rigged, look out for you and yours while capitalism is stealing your natural resources and making private homesteading prosecutable (translation: in our actual, real life here, the government can throw you in jail for building a house without a permit. go look up at the sky and think about the moral journey humanity had to take to get us to that point, and then come talk to me about how i shouldnt encourage people to steal from corporations)

anyways back to the video game, as far as the "what if he was unknowingly smuggling something like organs or weapons" argument, there's no desire for me to defend it, tbh. i dont view crime as a personality brand the way cops do. someone being convicted of a crime doesnt make me see them as lesser, it makes me see them as a person who did a bad thing. i do bad shit all the time. we all do. we're human. sometimes there's an excuse for the behavior, and sometimes there isnt. that's not the end of the world. you own up to your actions, you apologize, and you put in the effort to make amends that fit the situation. end of story. the obvious exception to that being when someone you have victimized tells you to fuck off because they dont want your further involvement.

yes. yes there are people in the world that are genuine monsters that spend their time and energy looking for ways to do the cruelest shit imaginable to their fellow human beings. but those are fucking outliers, so no, im not going to let a conversation about morality be derailed by a fraction of a percent of the population

but people (like the rangers) who aren't ready to look at the whole picture of context, who would rather hyper focus on the unbending rule of the land, don't see that. they see a "type" of person once a crime has been committed rather than "a person who found themselves in this scenario"

sam was raised by cops. he fundamentally does not understand how biased his own view is. he'll sometimes make a vague mention of crime being a necessity, but you can hear how many strings are attached there just from the way he talks about it. he truly views crime as a black and white subject with exceptionally few slivers of grey to be found. you can hear the "law and order is what separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom" in his voice whenever he talks about how the rangers are "good people" he just "didnt fit anymore" and it's heartbreaking

he'd be so much better off if he would take a moment to reevaluate his priorities and look a lot closer at that guilt he carries and why he carries it. i think it would even help him better connect with cora in the long run. it would for sure give him a better handle on why letting his daughter take on college courses this early in her life isnt something to brag about. its a bad sign that she's pushing herself to Be Something in the exact same way he used to. he just doesn't recognize it because her way is "healthy" by society's fucked up view of child prodigies

tl;dr

i don't need to fix sam coe. he's stubborn, traumatized, and sheltered, not broken.

give that man good enough head and i'm absolutely sure he could be talked into reading some -clutches pearls- marxist literature

[protohay]

seeing talk of telling ppl to read homestuck… you should ALSO read sweet bro and hella jeff. Unfortunately it has gross bullshit but i feel like its an important part to reading homestuck

I also recommend reading the book: quest for the missing spoon. It’s not related to homestuck in the slightest but its THE best sbahj media in my opinion. it has its flaws but overall much more enjoyable.

Theres also Paradox Space, which you should be reading if you decide to read Homestuck. It has funny sbahj stuff too and its just nice

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Frozen

*screeches in delight* Ok so I just finished the TSS masterlist (also please add me to the taglist) and at least in the past, you did literal interpretations of sayings. My question is, does this apply to fight/flight/freeze or brain freeze, and if so, do you have the spoons to write a fic? - diamond-blade

So I just saw this post (do links work in asks? It’s by orbmanson7), and now I want a Logan angst fic where the other sides literally silenced him. Or just any Logan angst, I’m not picky! - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: paralysis

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 2284

    Out of all of the ways he envisioned the argument ending, this wasn't one of them.

"Look, if we could all just get on the same page—"

"Same page? You're on a different chapter, Pocket Protector!" Roman throws his hands up. "Matter of fact, a different book! A different library!"

"There really is no need to be so dramatic."

"No—no need?" Roman splutters. "What do you think my job is?"

"It's not to be a constant nuisance!"

"I dunno," Virgil mutters, "could've fooled me."

"Oh, like you can talk!"

"Now, now, everyone—" Patton raises his hands in what is supposed to be a placating manner— "let's stop with all the name-calling and just settle down."

"Oh, I haven't even started name-calling."

"I think the point was to pre-empt any name-calling you may have done," Logan points out, pinching the bridge of his nose.

There really was no reason for this argument to spiral out of control so much. It was simply to decide whether Thomas would spend the day writing—as he had planned for the week and had already declined other weekend activities for, he had expressed multiple times that he wanted to write and in fact, missed it—or whether he would accept the invitation for coffee from someone he'd met a few days earlier.

Logan, of course, had maintained that they decline. They had plans, they had projects, ones that Roman himself had been advocating they work on.

Roman, however, being as fickle as he always is, had the prospect of romance figuratively waved under his nose and he'd been derailed faster than—well, a train derailing.

"Logan's got a point, Princey, you're the one who's been pushing for us to do the projects for like, a month." Virgil leans back against the stair rail. "You realize that this is likely the only time Logan's gonna be agreeing with you on…anything for the next year, right?"

"Logan, on average, how long does 'getting coffee' normally take?"

"Well, based on most estimates the actual act of procuring the coffee takes about five to ten minutes depending on the density of the other customers, extending to forty minutes if during peak rush hours—"

"You know what I meant."

"—but the act of 'getting coffee' in a romantic setting normally lasts at least an hour."

Roman gestures emphatically. "One hour! One hour! We can spare one hour from our busy day of writing to go and get coffee with someone."

"Interrupting your creative process has rarely shown such productivity. Additionally, it is unlikely that it will remain one hour when you account for travel time."

"Aren't you the one who's always advocating for healthy scheduling and taking breaks? I seem to recall a lengthy conversation with both you and Janus about pacing myself." Roman gestures at the door. "This is a way for me to take a break! For all of us to take a break!"

Virgil snorts. "Speak for yourself, Princey. Both you and I are gonna be on the clock."

"Plus—" Roman points at Patton— "the other day you and I were talking about how I need more inspiration! Because we decided that going on quests in the Imagination wasn't good enough, so I need new material! This is how I get new material!"

Patton falters and inwardly, Logan curses. If Roman can get Patton on his side…then the argument is as good as over.

"You also have a tendency to get distracted very easily by new things," he points out, "and it is likely that you will become so preoccupied with fantasies about this new potential suitor that you will lose all motivation or inspiration to work on these projects."

Virgil hums, pointing at him. "He's got a point."

"…he does, kiddo."

Roman makes an affronted noise, all but wilting. "Come on, this'll be good for Thomas!"

"Good for Thomas," Logan asks, "or good for you?"

"What's the difference?"

"Well," he continues, adjusting his glasses, "what's good for Thomas can also be working on these projects he's been letting sit and stagnate for almost a month now to help appease his Anxiety and maintain a consistent level of productivity."

He raises an eyebrow.

"And it allows more than one of us to take 'center stage,' if you will."

"I appreciate the theater reference, but come on, I'm asking you for an hour! Two, tops!"

"We've kinda already set this day aside for you, Roman," Patton says warily, "you—don't you think you're getting a little greedy?"

There are points, Logan has realized, where, in hindsight, he can label them as the moments where the nosedives begin. And while he will grant both Roman and himself the respect to admit they'd been somewhat antagonistic towards each other, Patton's remark had…well.

"Greedy?" Roman draws himself up. "Excuse me, what exactly am I being greedy about?"

"We have already decided this day shall be for writing. That means that you will be the one who is 'in charge,' so to speak, or at the very least your connection to Thomas will be prioritized." Logan gestures around at the others. "However, as Thomas's creative process revolves around us as well, as characters he has created and such, that means we shall also have a part to play, even if yours is disproportionate to ours."

"Okay—"

"However," Logan continues as Roman tries to interrupt him, "if you choose instead to go on this…coffee date—"

"I didn't say it was a date!" Roman holds up a proclamatory finger. "Let the record show I never said it was a date."

"That's kinda what you implied, though," Virgil muttered.

"—if you choose to go," Logan says, speaking over them, "then it will very much be a 'one-man show,' if you will, save for the occasional inputs you deign to allow the rest of us."

"Except me," Virgil adds, "you get no say in that matter."

"So, yes, Roman." Logan crosses his arms. "Trying to force an activity where you have more of a say could be considered greedy."

Roman splutters, looking back and forth as if expecting someone to deny it. When no one does, he puffs himself up and clears his throat. "I am trying to ensure Thomas gets adequate socialization and continues to meet new people! I-if anything, it's Logan who's being greedy for insisting we stick to his strict schedule!"

"Oh, god."

"Roman…"

Logan draws himself up too. "I have at least taken the time and care to make sure that everyone is content with the schedule, whereas you—"

"I"m not content with it! In case that is very much unclear—"

"—insist on blundering through things as you always do and expecting everyone else to cater to your needs—"

"—no, I am not happy with it. And you're the one who insists I have only 0.5% of any given day, were you just looking for an excuse to—"

"—without realizing that we have to work together. I understand that might be a difficult concept for you to grasp—"

"—shut me out? Oh, and here we go again, el principe es estupido, is that the only insult you have?"

"—but I assure you it is a worthwhile endeavor. Perhaps if you were capable of seeing beyond yourself—"

"I don't know how to put other people first? Why do you think I've let this project be pushed off so much, because none of you—"

"—then you might realize that the world does not, in fact, revolve around you and whatever you think is important—"

"—seem to think it's worth doing even though it's Thomas's source of income! You don't understand how hard it is to—"

"—and since you clearly cannot afford even the basic respect of listening to me and letting me speak uninterrupted, then clearly you are not capable of considering the fact that you are not—"

"Shut up!"

—worth having this argument with, is what Logan would say, or perhaps even don't tell me to shut up!

What he ends up saying is nothing.

Nothing at all.

Which is, of course, because he has been frozen.

His arms go rigid at his sides. His lungs refuse to inflate. His eyes begin to water from their inability to blink. His mouth dries up and he stands there, hangs there, freezes there as something horribly cold and deadly seeps into him.

I can't move. I can't move. I can't move.

An interesting thing about pain; pain requires functioning nerves. If you can't feel anything, then you can't feel pain. But if you can't feel pain, then you can't tell when something is wrong. And if you can't tell when something is wrong, you can't tell when it's getting worse.

Mouth open, one hand slightly raised, his weight imperfectly balanced on one leg because he'd been in the middle of shifting, Logan freezes in place. He looks at his hand and for a moment, he doesn't quite recognize that it's his hand because he can't feel it. He can't move it. He can only stare at this thing a few inches in front of him that looks like a hand that used to belong to him.

Then he remembers he can't scream.

"What the fuck did you do?"

"Logan? Logan, are you okay?"

"What the fuck did you do, Roman?"

"I don't know! I didn't—I don't know, I've never done this before!"

"Well, fucking undo it then!"

"I don't know how! I don't—don't shut up! Talk, Logan, say something! Move!"

"It's not working!"

"I can see that it's not working!"

"L, L, you gotta move, you gotta—come on, bud, you gotta."

"Un-shut up! Anti-shut up! Move again! Undo whatever I just did! I take it back!"

"That's not working either!"

"Fuck—I'm sorry, Logan! I didn't mean it, I just got angry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Roman, I swear to god, if you can't fix this—"

"Unfreeze!"

Logan gasps, sensation flooding back into his body so quickly it's almost painful. He collapses into a heap as blood rushes through him, pounding so heavily in his ears that it's almost deafening. His hands—his hands, he can move them now—scream with pain as he clenches and unclenches them, his muscles trying slowly to reacclimate to moving, to feeling, to being unfrozen.

"Easy, bud," comes Virgil's low voice, "in for five, okay? One…two…three…four…five. Good, good job. Hold now…"

He lets Virgil walk him through a breathing exercise until he can breathe normally. He looks up and nods when Virgil gives him a quiet you okay?

"Logan, kiddo? You okay, sweetheart?"

"Yes…yes, I think so."

"Go slow, okay," Virgil warns as he starts to stand up again, "you just gotta go slow."

Standing is…challenging, but he manages. The whole ordeal had lasted barely a minute and now that he's able to move again, the panic fades and he can start to function once more. He takes a few more deep breaths to steady himself before he looks around.

Patton is hovering, concern written plainly all over his face. Virgil is next to him, there if he needs to grab onto his shoulder or sink out. Roman is—

Roman is standing on the other side of the room, his hands held over his mouth in horror. There are tears on his face.

"I'm sorry, Logan," he whispers, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, I didn't even know I could do that, I—are you okay?"

"Yes," and surprisingly, he is, "I'm alright now. I would…appreciate if that didn't happen again."

"No, no, of course, I won't—I won't do it again. I promise."

"Thank you."

Roman nods, his hands finally moving away from his face. He swallows and draws himself up, although this time it's far more similar to a child trying to save face than an arrogant prince. "I, um…we can…I'll be ready to write on Saturday."

"That would be great, thank you."

"Do you…need or want anything else right now?"

He pauses, considering, before slowly reaching out for him. Roman balks, confusion and fear warring on his features before he slowly crosses the room to let Logan grab onto him.

"You're the warmest," Logan mumbles, lurching forward to hug him—only it ends up being more like leaning his entire weight on Roman while Roman holds him up— "I'm still cold."

"Oh, of—of course." Roman wraps his arms carefully around him and Logan hums. "Would—do you want to sit on the couch?"

"Mm."

"…was that a 'yes?'"

"Yes."

Roman helps him carefully over to the couch as Virgil and Patton pull out the coffee table to make room for everyone's limbs. Logan turns his face against Roman's shoulder and closes his eyes.

"I'm going to sleep here now."

"Okay." Roman adjusts his grip so he won't get a strain in his neck. "I really am sorry, Logan."

"I know." He blinks up at him. "We can't do Saturday, but maybe…we may be able to do Sunday?"

Roman smiles. "We can talk about it later. You should sleep now."

And so he does.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[sethshead]

“I’ve seen some variation of this rant a few times:

“‘I survived lead paint, wooden spoons, no seatbelts, no helmets, second hand smoke, playing unsupervised, drinking from the hose, and riding in the back of a truck.’

“This ‘you kids that I raised are soft and it’s all your fault’ nostalgia misses something in the quest to make asbestos great again; a lot of people didn’t survive this fuckery.

“Today’s Moment of Science… Survivorship bias & phantom bullet holes.

“We like to think that we’re rational thinkers, able to spot logical fallacies out in the wilderness. But what happens when the cause of your logical fallacy is information that’s long gone? This is a kind of selection bias known as survivorship bias, and it’s annoyingly common.

“‘Old houses were better constructed.’ Or you only see the sturdiest of the old ones today because nobody made an effort to save the 14th century shacks.

“‘Music from back in the day is standing the test of time.’ There’s caterwauling that deserves its fate buried in the bowels of music history from every era, I’m afraid.

“‘You can become a billionaire without going to college if you just work hard and read books, look at this tech bro who I think is irl Tony Stark.’

“Truly, I enjoy an inspiring story about not having student loan debt as much as the next millennial going through an existential crisis. But every story of someone who got rich or famous tells the quieter story of far more people who wanted it just as badly, tried, and failed.

“So, airplanes.

“Abraham Wald was a Hungarian Jew who fled Europe for the US in the late 1930s because of that whole ‘Hitler was a murderous cockface’ thing. He had his PhD in mathematics and went to work for the Statistical Research Group (SRG) at Columbia University. The SRG has been described as a collection of the ‘most extraordinary group of statisticians ever organized.’

“Planes kept coming back from the war with bullet holes in a certain pattern, if they came back at all. Damage clustered around the wing tips and tail. Weight needed to be kept low while giving the plane more protection, and the areas that had sustained a lot of fire seemed like the obvious places to armor up. Right?

“But Wald suggested that planes were likely to be hit fairly evenly, not that the enemy fire was clustering around these spots tactically. He considered the data he didn’t have: the planes that never came home. Where were they being hit?

“If he was right that planes took fire everywhere, then the planes should be armored heavily where the surviving planes hadn’t taken damage. The engine and the cockpit came back seemingly unscathed every time in otherwise bullet ridden planes. Those areas were subsequently fortified.

“It’s a good lesson in survivorship bias. And saved untold lives.

“Abraham Wald’s work contributed considerably to the burgeoning field of operational research. Because of his immigration status, he reportedly wasn’t able to get a security clearance or even look at the final reports he contributed to. He died in a plane crash in 1950 on the way to India for a lecture tour at just 48 years old.

“This has been your Moment of Science, never sure I have all the data.

“To get the MOS delivered to your inbox every weekday with rocket scientist orgies, NASA funded dolphin handjobs, and friggin… Australia… head to patreon.com/scibabe.”

h/t SciBabe

[aroaceleovaldez]

i’m not in this fandom like that so I didn’t know rick previously said he wasn’t going to write anymore. but is it you feel like he’s milking it? maybe it’s bc i’m more in anime/manga fandoms, but for example it’s common for mangaka to write light novels to accompany their story to add details to characters backgrounds or answer questions that aren’t in the manga, but I would never the concept of it bad writing or disrespectful….isn’t it just expanding the story? maybe I’m just not getting your point. i agree the audience shouldn’t be spoon fed, but nico still having nightmares & hearing voices & planning on going to tartarus seems too big of a plot point to be ignored. & chalice of the gods - that I agree with the spoon feeding, but it’s just simple fanservice, maybe rick missed writing those characters or maybe it’s money idk but I feel like a lot of the fandom looks forward to reading more about Percy, i dont think majority feel disrespected by it. (please also i’m not trying to berate you for not liking tsats and chalice im just curious!)

My problem isn’t that it feels like Rick is milking the series - though he absolutely is. He explicitly stated on his blog that Disney asked him to publish Chalice of the Gods as Percy promotion for the Disney+ show adaptation - but the fact that the way it’s being gone about feels cheap.

I get what you mean by comparing manga, but manga is ultimately a different media form. Manga and comics in general tend to lean more expositional by nature because that’s what’s required of the medium. This also means there’s a lot more room for those kinds of extra content series because the medium inherently provides space for them. That can also be a thing in novels as well - I was in Warrior Cats fandom. Warriors has tons of extra content books and novellas (and manga!). I read Animorphs, which also has lots of extra content books (and 52 books in the main series). I am very familiar with series that have a lot of books and bonus content and etc. But the thing with those extra content books is a.) it’s really easy for them to be bad in the exact same way i was mentioning, where details feel forcibly spoon-fed to you, and b.) they need to provide something new, otherwise they just feel like cheap additions that you’re better off skipping over, and if you do skip them you don’t loose anything. And this is 100% true for manga too! It’s a really common problem!

The point is these books don’t expand the story. We aren’t learning anything new that we wouldn’t be able to extrapolate anyways, and it is okay that we don’t know everything happening in the series. We don’t need to know the Exact Specifics of how Nico and Will got together, or how Percy did his college applications. And this has been true in the series before! We don’t know what happened on Clarisse’s quest in TTC. We don’t know what happened to Reyna and Hylla between Circe’s Island and Camp Jupiter, or even how they got to Circe’s Island in the first place. We still don’t know what happened in Albania. And all of that is fine. Nothing is lost as a result of us not knowing those answers. Heck, actually a great example - in TLO, Nico tells Percy he’s been exploring California looking for leads on his family. We’re told he has a new lead, and then he never brings it up again. We as the audience can presume this was relating to Hazel, but the important part is: We are never told what exactly Nico was doing. We know he was doing some very important personal stuff in California, and that’s it. Even if we presume it was relating to Hazel, there’s still huge gaps in that we don’t know about, like how Nico brought Hazel to Camp Jupiter, how Nico found out about Camp Jupiter in the first place, or how he discovered the Doors of Death were open at all. We know none of that. And that’s a good thing! Because we don’t need to! It’s completely irrelevant and adds nothing more to the story! We know everything we need to know about that and that’s it.

That’s how the end of TOA should have been. Yes, we get a cliffhanger that Nico has some personal destiny stuff, but we’re also explicitly not told the prophecy. That should have been the end of it, and it was SUPPOSED to be the end of it! We’re not gaining anything new by having Nico go to Tartarus again - we’ve seen a popular ship go to Tartarus already (Percy and Annabeth). We know what’s down there. We know what Nico experienced down there. We already know everything we need to know. There’s no point to this. Especially since there’s so many elements of the already established canon that emphasize that the alleged goal of their quest is pointless to begin with. We know what’s going to happen already. We can extrapolate. We don’t need a whole book or 3-book series to explain it to us - that’s the part that’s disrespectful to the audience. It’s saying that You Need To Be Told Exactly What Happens Because We Do Not Trust You To Be Able To Figure It Out On Your Own.

 You brought up a great word, actually - It feels like fan-service. And that’s a bad thing. Fan-service is not a good thing - it is almost always bad writing with no heart in it, just spoon-feeding the audience, and it’s disrespectful to the readers. TSATS just feels like solangelo fan-service by trying to make it Percabeth 2 and dancing Will and Nico around in front of the audience a bit more. We aren’t gaining anything new, and there’s no reason to bother with TSATS when you can get the exact same thing or more from fanworks. At best, TSATS could have maybe worked as a short story like Sword of Hades, or we could have gotten a Will short story like how The Stolen Chariot gave us more depth on Clarisse. But as it stands currently, it’s just cheap. It just feels like excuses for Rick to explicitly canonize random things because he doesn’t trust us to figure it out as being coded (this teeters dangerously on the JK Rowling approach), or shoehorn in myths he hasn’t used yet, which he was already doing in TOA and that turned out racist at worst and a mess at best.

There are absolutely extra content novellas I would love to see. Everybody’s been asking for a roman series for ages. A Reyna-POV 3 book Roman series would work perfectly and actually provide something for the collective series, because it’d actually give us some reasons to care about the Roman camp and maybe Jason’s backstory and further flesh him out as a character. I mentioned Clarisse’s quest from TTC earlier - do we lose anything by not knowing what happened on her quest? No. But she’s a major side character who’s been around since book one that we know very little about, and if we need more first-series content to promote the show adaptation, that feels like a great avenue, because we can use it to explore things that we don’t know much about! Like rogue demigods and the Titan Army (with Chris), the Ares cabin (quest members), or Clarisse herself and her backstory and fleshing her out more as a character and her relationships with other beloved first-series characters like Silena and Beckendorf. We can’t get that with Will because he only joined camp right before the Battle for Manhattan (and anything saying otherwise would be an outright retcon, which is even more annoying) and nearly his entire cabin immediately died. Everything we saw in TOA is basically all we’d be able to get from Will. And we already got it - we know where he’s from, when he came to camp, who his mom is, and his relationship with both his parents and his siblings and other campers. We saw who he as a character is in TOA. Yeah, it wasn’t much, but he’s only been around since TLO and barely existed in HoO - he’s a minor character, that’s expected. But all we’re gonna get is more of the same.

Tl;dr: My problem isn’t that it feels like beating a dead horse, my problem with TSATS and Chalice of the Gods is that they feel like cheap and pointless plot lines that are inherently insulting to the audience by refusing to allow any interpretation of the intentional free space left by the narrative and at best is a blatant shoehorning-in of more myths and canonizing random things that don’t add any actual merit to the story, they’re just there to be included.

[stories-me]

Potential Character for Mrs. Kelsey and Tumblr 9/24/2024:

Louise Thrushwood, Mouse Mom and Unlikely Heroine:

(Note on appearance: she has grey or tan fur and the cloak on her is a dark green).

What she’s from: “Mouse Quest: Louise and the House of Secrets” (which I semi-made up).

Background:

Louise has lived in the Harper House for a long time, finding hidden places to nest and gather food for her growing family. She built a small but comfortable home in the walls of the house, away from the humans’ prying eyes. Life was tough, but manageable — until her husband Jacob mysteriously disappeared, leaving her to fend for the family on her own.

Shortly after Jacob’s disappearance, Morgan (Louise’s eldest daughter) and her large brood arrived, displaced by a lawnmower accident that destroyed their home. This added more mouths to feed and heightened Louise’s urgency to gather enough food before winter. Now, with Jacob missing and the pressure mounting, Louise takes it upon herself to navigate the dangers of the house and gather the resources necessary for survival.

Personality:

Caring and Nurturing: Louise’s main drive is to provide for her family. She is a deeply caring mother and grandmother, always thinking of their well-being. She’s willing to brave the dangers of the Harper house in order to ensure her children and grandchildren don’t go hungry during the upcoming winter.

Clever and Resourceful: Louise isn’t a natural fighter, but she’s highly intelligent and quick to figure out solutions to complex problems. She’s good at thinking on her feet and can make use of everyday objects in inventive ways to overcome obstacles. Whether it’s using a spoon as a bridge or hiding inside a teapot, Louise makes the most out of her small size and surroundings.

Courageous and Determined: Despite her small stature and the dangerous world around her, Louise is incredibly brave. She faces threats like Ambrosia the cat, household traps, and the looming presence of humans, but her fear never stops her. Her love for her family keeps her motivated even in the face of seemingly insurmountable challenges.

Patient and Wise: Louise has seen enough of life to know that patience and observation often win the day. She doesn’t rush into things but instead carefully assesses situations before acting. Her wisdom comes through in how she navigates her environment, always considering the long-term consequences of her decisions.

A Bit Overwhelmed: With so many mouths to feed and constant problems to solve, Louise can occasionally feel overwhelmed by the pressure. She’s only one mouse, after all, and with Morgan and her dozen grandchildren suddenly moving in, things have become even more complicated. Despite this, Louise never gives up and always finds a way to press forward.

How she is like me:

We both are sometimes a bit overwhelmed over certain things (like my room, and, recently, a video I saw online), and we are caring (like caring for others, like Emily, whose relationship with I am trying to repair), and wise and clever.

How she is NOT like me:

I can frequently be challenged with my patience (though, I guess, she finds it challenging to be patient, as well, from time to time).

Kelsey Notes:

When we are in overwhelming situations it is ok to ask for help or clarification

          -if you don’t know where to start cleaning your room, ask for help to get started

          -When it comes political ads or stories it is important to recognize your comfort level with it and find something else to read/watch if you find yourself getting overwhelmed or worked up about what is being said

When we recognize how our behavior has impaired our relationships, we learn to take more steps to control our behavior and not make the same mistakes that have caused rifts with family members

          This can be difficult because it takes self-control, patience, and maturity

It takes practice and patience to be able to stop ourselves in a moment of frustration in an effort to react to a situation more appropriately than we’re used to

As we become adults, we realize that we can solve some problems, some problems take time to solve, and there are some problems that are out of our control (even out of our support systems control)

Many people who are more patient have tended to accept when things happen that  are outside of their control

[bookquest2024]

Book 3: The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald

Dates: January 7

Books read: 2

Books remaining: 98

Blog Post:

Okay so if you look at my book list, The Great Gatsby is actually #3 on the list, not #2. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about In Search of Lost Time by Marcel Proust. However, I have the book on hold from my local library, and there’s only ONE copy for the whole area’s metropolitan library. I really did want to read the books in the randomized order of my list, but if I’m going to read them all within 365 days, I can’t waste days waiting for my holds to be ready. SO– I’ve moved onto #3. I’m going to do my best to read them in order, but you have to be flexible on quests.

Moving on to The Great Gatsby–I was looking forward to reading this one for many reasons: (1) it’s much shorter than the first two books, readable within one day; (2) I’ve read it previously when I was in high school, and I was looking forward to re-reading it with a new, older (but not like, a lot older, okay?) perspective; and (3) everyone has strong opinions about The Great Gatsby–it’s a popular book. 

I remember reading The Great Gatsby in high school and liking it, but I didn’t really remember why I liked it. And having now reread it, I have no idea why I liked it back then. Maybe I was in love with the idea of being rich (who isn’t?), maybe I found Gatsby’s love for Daisy incredibly romantic. Whatever the reason, the feeling did not last. First, before I go any further, I do NOT remember reading this incredibly gay scene, when Nick is in the city getting drunk with Tom and his mistress, and he leaves the apartment with the artist, Mr. McKee: 

"Come to lunch someday," [Mr. McKee] suggested, as we groaned down in the elevator.

"Where?"

"Anywhere."

"Keep your hands off the lever," snapped the elevator boy.

"I beg your pardon," said Mr. McKee with dignity, "I didn't know I was touching it."

"All right," I agreed, "I'll be glad to"Come to lunch someday," [Mr. McKee] suggested, as we groaned down in the elevator.

"Where?"

"Anywhere."

"Keep your hands off the lever," snapped the elevator boy.

"I beg your pardon," said Mr. McKee with dignity, "I didn't know I was touching it."

"All right," I agreed, "I'll be glad to."

" . . . I was standing beside his bed and he was sitting up between the sheets, clad in his underwear, with a great portfolio in his hands.”

Like, clearly this isn’t overtly a hook up between Mr. McKee and Nick, but I’m 100% convinced that it happened and I don’t know how I missed it the first time I read the book. That said, I went to a very conservative high school so maybe that’s to be expected. Anyway. 

Moving on: each and every single character in this book is sooooooo annoying. Nick is a rich, pretentious idiot who thinks he’s better than everyone. Actually, he might be better than everyone we meet in the book, but unfortunately for him, that’s not saying much. Tom is a racist, sexist asshole who peaked in college (literally: “one of those men who reach such an acute limited excellence at twenty-one that everything afterwards savors of anticlimax.”). Jordan, my favorite character in the book, is a liar committed to being a bystander. Daisy was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and is doing her best to be miserable about it. And finally, Gatsby is a poor man who got rich quick doing something unsavory–it’s never explicitly said what–who is so obsessed with a woman that he can’t handle the fact that that woman loves her husband, even a little.

Jordan is my favorite character in the book, even though Nick tells us she’s a liar and implies that she cheated at one of her golf championships, because at one point Tom says she’s too wild and her family shouldn’t “let her run around like that.” What can I say, I love a woman who goes against the grain. 

The book is really well written and is filled with the kind of imagery that is perfect for exploring in a high school/college literature class, so I understand why it is as popular as it is. But the “love story” between Daisy and Gatsby stinks of a man obsessed with the idea of being rich and earning the love of a woman far above his station in life, without needing to know anything about the woman herself, and a woman who’s bored and wants to get back at her husband for cheating on her. This obsession fails him in the end, as it’s too much for Daisy: “‘Oh, you want too much!’” she cried to Gatsby. “‘I love you now–isn’t that enough? I can’t help what’s past.’” She began to sob helplessly. “‘I did love him once–but I loved you too.’” Poor little rich girl with two rich men fighting over her. It’s a very boring love story–the only exciting thing about it is Gatsby’s murder. 

Nick and Jordan’s relationship is 1000 times more interesting to me, even if it is less obsessive and romantic. Nick initially admires her self-sufficiency (and of course, she’s beautiful). He goes to many parties with her, and decides that she avoids clever men so that she can get away with her lying. Jordan says she herself is careless (in the context of driving), and hates careless people, and that’s why she likes Nick. Nick can never decide if he’s in love with Jordan, he considers himself careful, and “one of the few honest people [he has] ever known.”  In the end, after Nick breaks off their relationship, Jordan says “‘You said a bad driver was only safe until she met another bad driver? Well, I met another bad driver, didn’t I? I mean it was careless of me to make such a wrong guess. I thought you were a rather honest, straightforward person. I thought it was your secret pride.’” Something about how Jordan is hurt by Nick is closer to real emotion than anything else felt by anyone in this book.

I really feel like Jordan could have been redeemed, if Fitzgerald gave her a chance. Sure, she’s a liar willing to stand off to the side while Tom and Daisy hurt each other, other people, and themselves, but before Nick “throws her over,” Jordan takes steps to distance herself from Tom and Daisy. However, we’ll never know if that was her decision, or if that was a result of Tom and Daisy running away from Myrtle’s murder. Personally, I kinda hope Jordan is still out there lying to the sexist men of the 1920’s.

It is actually really impressive that Fitzgerald, after introducing us to the worst people we’ve ever met, is able to make us (okay, maybe just me? I’m not sure who “we” are) feel bad for Gatsby after his death. Nick does his best to get any of the hundreds of people who would come out to Gatsby’s parties to go to his funeral, and fails. Instead, Gatsby is buried with only his dad (who apparently beat him), Nick (who met him that summer, like three months ago!!) and a guy called “Owl Eyes” (who is a drunk guy that was amazed that Gatsby’s library has real, actual books in his library, rather than fake cardboard covers) as attendants to his funeral. Owl Eyes says it best:

“‘I couldn’t get to the house,’ he remarked.

‘Neither could anybody else.’

‘Go on!’ He started. ‘Why, my God! they used to go there by the hundreds.” 

He took off his glasses and wiped them again, outside and in.

‘The poor son-of-a-bitch,’ he said.”

In sum, I enjoyed rereading this book–I really love to hate things sometimes, and this book includes so many characters and situations to hate.

My favorite lines/quotes of the book:

“Almost any exhibition of complete self-sufficiency draws a stunned tribute from me.” Nick, when he meets Jordan for the first time.

“‘In two weeks it’ll be the longest day in the year.’ She looked at us all radiantly. ‘Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it.’” Daisy. This line is something that has stuck with me since I read the book the very first time–because, yes, I do normally miss the longest day of the year, even after all winter of wishing for more daylight hours. I’ve always wanted to be married, or do something special on the Solstice, so that I always have something to celebrate that day and never miss it. 

“‘What’ll we do with ourselves this afternoon?’ cried Daisy. ‘And the day after that, and the next thirty years?’ ‘Don’t be morbid,’ Jordan said. ‘Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.’” This is just a lovely line.

“‘I love New York on summer afternoons when everyone’s away. There’s something very sensuous about it–overripe, as if all sorts of funny fruits were going to fall into your hands.” - Jordan.