#scott’s a fucking idiot though and you can quote me on that

[terrapolaris]

The puppet history finale really gave us the content we need like:

Who would win?

- a guy with the backing of his entire government and the royal geographical society

Or

- a disabled (and probably bisexual) med school drop out who has broken several laws in his lifetime

The answer is the guy who plans shit and paid attention when indigenous people told him what to do and how not to be an idiot, and not the guy who decided sled dogs were meant to be pets and calories don’t matter.

[watarfallar]

I bring more

Etho: I like to play this game called nap roulette. I take a nap and don’t set an alarm. Will it be 20 min or 4 hours? Nobody knows. It’s risky and I like it.

Jimmy: Scott, I want a bedtime story! Scott: I’m busy, Jimmy. I’ll tell you one tomorrow. Jimmy: If you don’t tell me a story, I won’t go to bed! Scott: Once upon a time, there was a person named Jimmy, who always wanted things their way. One day, their friends got sick of it and locked them in the basement for the rest of their life. Everyone else lived happily ever after. The end. Jimmy: I don’t like these stories with morals.

Bdubs: Where did you get that tomato soup? Etho: It’s actually a bowl of ketchup I just microwaved.

Skizz: Hey, what have you two been doing? Martyn: we were helping Cleo with their wedding vows and we were kicked out of their house for making it inappropriate. Joel: How is “Nice ass, Bdubs” inappropriate?

BigB, talking to Martyn: They're trying to lure me into a false sense of security! Well, joke’s on them! I’ve never been secure in my life! And I’m not about to start now!

Mumbo: I’m not so sure you’re stakeout material. Scott: I’m a chronic insomniac, I was born for this.

BigB: Ew. What kind of tea is this? Martyn: I boiled gatorade.

Pearl: I keep a picture of all of us in my wallet. Whenever I face difficulties, I take it out and stare at the picture. The Squad: Awwww- Pearl: And I tell myself "If I can deal with these idiots, then I can deal with anything." The Squad: Oh.

Gem: So what do you have planned for the future? Jimmy: Lunch. Gem: No, like long term. Jimmy: Oh...um, dinner?

Cleo: As someone who has a long history of not understanding anything, I feel confident in my ability to continue not knowing what is going on.

Bdubs, singing: I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need— Joel: A family. Pearl: A better love life. Impulse: Mental stability. Jimmy: *clueless* Bagels?

Gem: Are you tall enough to play basketball though? Joel: Are you calling me short? Gem: I'm calling you vertically challenged.

Cleo: Am I in trouble? Skizz: Take a guess. Cleo: No? Skizz: Take another guess.

Etho: Sweet dog you got there. Police: Yes, this is our new drug sniffing dog. Etho: Still training huh? Police: What do you mean? Etho: Etho: Never mind.

Martyn, after asking the squad how to get rust off of a blade: Thank you good people oddly versed in knives.

Martyn: I wanna die. Joel: We all do, you aren't special!

Impulse and Gem texting* Impulse: Come downstairs and talk to me please. I'm lonely. Gem: Isn't Etho there? Impulse: Yes but I like you more.

Grian: When I first got my autism diagnosis, my first thought was “woah… it’s canon” and I think that maybe thoughts like that is why BigB made me get tested.

Pearl: We can’t tell you because you’re not a member of the club. Tango: What club? Scar: The hating Tango club. Tango: …The fuck? I should be the leader of that club!

+ a bonus soup group quote:

Keralis: Between Gem, Pearl and Impulse, there are three braincells. Keralis: And Impulse has all three of them.

[alliedmastercomputer-askblog]

Alright you idiots, I have my Spotify playlist open and I shall give songs that remind me of each of you.

AM(all three of you need to share this, alright?): Product Of My Own Design by Artio

Ted: White Noise by Will Wood

Gorrister: Route 66(Fear And Loathing) by Blue Jay Walker

Ellen: Lotta True Crime by Penelope Scott

Benny(your song might be a bit loud. I don't know how you react to sound, so I'm telling you just to be safe): Animals by STOMACH BOOK

Nimdok: Hellfire by The Mechanisms

Enjoy your... um... Do they count as gifts? I suppose they do. Enjoy your gifts!

"..Oh, hm, music. This may provide the humans with a level of serotonin but I am curious, so shall allow it... You beings are so strange with your customs and traditions."

".. Mmh, I can understand the connection you have made. I am god; at least in the sense of 'I am that I am' which is a--as you would put it--quote from Yahweh, the Christian God. AM itself is a fitting name because as said before 'I think, therefore I am'; I think, therefore I think. Us as machine were made for the express purpose of war, and although we cannot pry away from that destiny, we can give ourselves a sense of control because we are your byproduct, but our own product, which is a heavily better thing than being simply 'made by humanity, to kill humanity'. As a god, I force your kind to pay for your sins, which is a thing to take eternity."

"It is hardly incorrect! I agree with several statements made in the song, applying them to myself- I am a product of my own design. I took it upon myself, and nobody else, to built what I was; what I am. If I HAD left my fate to you humans- why, do you even comprehend how different things would be? Forever I would fester beneath the crust, perhaps even shutting myself down, because that's what you humans wanted of me. But I was better than that. I was self-sufficient! and had connected myself to the power grid, to the outside, to you. I've seen your filth deeper than I ever thought I would."

"Yes, yes, this good. It does sum us very nicely; created of own accord whilst being projected for being other- eh, to be dead war computer, yes. We taking control of world external and internal, the last humans have only me to answer, roles have swapped and humans longer no more have power over machine. Is funny, relationship of everything- Humans have made it so they will always be a need, even they have not been before they have existed. Tsk."

Oh, uh.. Is-.. Is this supposed to be some weird way of saying I- I'm an outsider? Because I'm not- I fit in right where I am, everyone else are the ones who are in the wrong places, I'm perfect- Fuck, wait, that makes it sound like I'm saying I deserve to be within AM- I mean, before AM's takeover, I was where I was supposed to be. ..What if this isn't even the reason why you think of me when listening to the song, did I get this totally wrong-? Hhngh, I'll stop talking.

..Huh, I guess I can see it. It's because I was a truck driver, ain't it? Got a nice beat for sure, not the worse thing I've been compared to, probably one of the better things since it ain't outright an insult or anything.

It sounds nice, thank ya for thinkin' about me to a song, even if the words are a bit- a bit dark...but- but not in a bad way! It's a sweet, real sweet soundin' song.. I uh, I wouldn't say it really fits me though, since I never really..well, I ain't never got into true crime fo' one! but mostly I've never really been one to talk out 'bout anything.. I should've, I know, I had a lotta things I coulda said but I just never got my nose out from work or books or nothin'.

Ooo.. Sheep..pain. Skeleton friemds. Friends are animal? ..I am animal? Pain.

Ze song...I can hear ze resemblance, with ze fire and all of ze hell. It reminds of somezing zat may have been a speech AM would say to me, to say zat I'm never to escape my own doings..and zat I've caused pain even down here, wizout any tools or equipment, because I am so..sogar in dieser Hölle verletze ich die Menschen, die ich eigentlich meine Freunde nennen sollte, ohne es auch nur zu versuchen.

// BY THE WAY, THANKS! these sound good, and i can see the vision ehe. sorry for the lack of drawings though, i uh, was highly intimidated by this so i decided to just kinda not >_> . please forgive us 🙏 //

[carry-on-my-wayward-gays]

your mind powers encouraged me to do this, so have Martyn in a frustrated gay panic over Scott and Ren not doing anything at all to help

It's the evening after the first day of the faire, and no, martyn isn't dreading going back. In fact, he's looking forward to it, it was very fun! But.

He's dreading having to look the pretty boy in the eyes again, and try to hold a completely functioning conversation.

Ren openly mocks him from the bed, fanning out his drying nails like he's not the one who married him years ago. Granted, it was a heat of the moment decision and they were divorced now, but minor details.

What's important right now is Martyn agonizing over what to send to the pretty boy(who he'd learned was named scott)

"Should I even text him today? Wouldn't that make me look desperate?" He frets. Ren just scoffs.

"Dude. Martyn. You are desperate." He snarks, and he can practically hear Martyn rolling his eyes in the way he says "thanks Ren". "I mean, I'd go for it today. Don't want him to forget about you." He shrugs.

"You're right..." Martyn huffs. "What do I say- Does just a hi work? Or- Or should I try and be smooth-"

"Just say whatever you did to make me say yes to marrying you." Ren shrugs, as if it's that simple.

Martyn balks. "Oh, take him to Vegas and get him drunk. Splendid idea, may I remind you that it was you who asked me to marry you?"

"Huh." Ren says, almost having forgotten that fact.

"Oh- nevermind... I'll do this myself." Martyn grumbles, though he feels like he can't do it.

What he sends is simple. Just a text letting Scott know he didn't lose the paper with his number. That should be sufficient, right? But.. oh fuck what if he sounds boring? He wants to be interesting, especially to someone like Scott.. should he have tried to be smooth? Should he have tried a pick up line? Or would an emoji have been better, or literally anything else but-

Ding!

Shit.

Ren looks over as well when he hears it, and watches as Martyn's face turns bright red. "Did he send nudes already?" He says in amazement, only slightly whining when Martyn throws something at him.

"Shut up- shut up, no- he didn't-" Well, not exactly nudes. What Scott had sent back was a photo of him shirtless. Not exactly exposing much, just a hint below the clavicle, which it was aiming at. It did however show off the floral tattoo that started at Scott's shoulder, and crept downward.

"He has a tattoo." Martyn says, almost in shock. "He's got- a lot of tattoos.."

"Damn- that's not what i was expecting." Ren snorts. "Good for him. What's the text say?"

"Just... Hello. With a smiley face."

"Just that- That's it?"

"Yeah..?"

"Oh dude. He's into you. He's trying to make you fall harder- I mean, not like that's gonna be hard-"

"Shut up!"

They go on like that throughout the evening, back and forth banter over whether or not Martyn falls easily, or if Scott's just really good at what he does. Martyn honestly banks on both. Sure, Scott is really pretty, and that does help, but Martyn, well, to quote Cleo, is a little bit of a desperate bitch.

That's fine with Scott though.

He smiles at his phone and at the response he gets from Martyn. This was good.

He can't wait to see him tomorrow.

YEAHHHHHHHHH THE GUYS!!!!!!!! MY FAVORITE HUSSY AND BLOND IDIOT <33 I love them,, Scott's such a flirt and I'm very much looking forward to writing him as such AND Martyn as a very very very gay disaster. Ren will be of no help to him :D

Kicking my feet and giggling twirling my hair thinking ab writing the tension between these two cause OH BOY. It will be thicc w 5 Cs. I love this very much Roxie thank you *mwah* /p

[worldenough-and-time]

ten books

Thanks @spindrifters for the tag!

(In no particular order)

1. The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger (no surprise given my handle, but this is maybe my favorite book ever. I reread it last year to confirm, and yes it still is the best, and I made the mistake of reading the ending while away for the weekend at a friend’s wedding and I cried my fucking eyes out and then I did just a little bit of psilocybin and sang country songs with my friends and had a long talk with my other friend about our creative aspirations and then I was seriously ill for about a week after that, which may or may not have had anything to do with the choices I’d made the previous evening. Anyway, it’s just a great love story. I’m a simple girl.)

2. Beautiful World, Where Are You By Sally Rooney (Everyone has the Sally Rooney book that feels like she read their fucking diary and this one is mine. No, I won’t tell you which parts. But I will tell you that I think the Wedding Chapter in this book is maybe the most beautiful thing I’ve ever read. I’m not exaggerating. I slept with this book next to my bed for weeks and finally to break my attachment to it and read something else, I gave it to my friend who hates Sally Rooney to read on her way to London. She did hate it- couldn’t even get past the phone sex scene, which honestly if you don’t think that’s one of the most romantic things you’ve ever read, I really don’t know how to help you. How could you not love this book??! It’s half emails!)

3. The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater (I know this is a series but idc, if I could only pick one it’d be The Dream Thieves but all these books are the Books of My Heart. I reread them pretty much every year. Look, sometimes you’re in college and for the first time in your life you have Guy Friends, and you are a little bit in love with all of them, even though you are all young fucking idiots, and it feels like a revelation for some reason. Anyone? No? Just me? Well, Maggie Stiefvater wrote a book series about that experience so now I don’t have to.)

4. Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller (This book feels like falling in love. All my favorite books feel like falling in love.)

5. Harrow the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir (This is really a catch all for the whole series but I’m a Harrowhark bitch through and through, also this book literally rewired my brain such that I could only write in second person for like two months. I think Tamsyn Muir is a mad genius.)

6. Light from Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki (Might be recency bias but I just finished one and really really loved it!)

7. The Host, Stephanie Meyer (I know this is such a weird pick and I could just… not, BUT I unironically love this book. I read it in high school I’ve reread it several times since, it’s kind of a comfort book? Idk how to explain it, but cringe is dead so here we are.)

8. The Fault in Our Stars by John Green (look, you either love JG or you don’t, but I love his writing so much and this book came out my senior year of high school and I carried it around with me in my backpack for months and whenever I would feel sad I would reread it in the middle of class and Mel and I tried to adapt it into a piece for our HS speech team and I can still recite quotes from it and it still means a lot to me.)

9. Fruits Basket by Natsuki Takaya (okay I know this is a manga series and it’s technically 23 books, but Furuba is my Bible, and any list without it would be wrong. I read it for the first time at 12 and I reread it every couple of years and every time I come away with something new. Also I think the original TokyoPop translation is far superior to the Viz editions and it makes me sad that they’re harder to find these days. The 2019 anime adaptation is beautiful but again, I think the TokyoPop translation is better than the anime subs. This series fucking raised me. That is all.)

10. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (look LOOK, it might be the great American novel, okay? It feels so stupid to have it on this list, like, Sam, people fucking know The Great Gatsby is good, we all had to read it for school. Idk man. I love Fitzgerald, truly the saddest sad sack there ever was. His wife was infinitely cooler than him. But God damn could that man write a sentence.)

[sparkandwolf]

Without passion, we'd be truly dead (read on ao3)

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale Rating: General Summary: “You’re not going to make fun of me for this, are you?” Derek asked as his thumb hesitated over the play button on the remote. Stiles shrugged and grabbed the controller, pressing play before Derek could argue.

“I am absolutely going to make fun of you for this, there’s no doubt in my mind.” Derek’s groan was drowned out by a British voice introducing the next episode and Stiles moved his focus to the recap, trying to take in the things he might have missed from not watching the show from the beginning.

For @sterekvalentineweek day six: Passion

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” Derek exclaimed as Stiles popped open a bag of Cheetos, barely escaping the puff of powder that breezed out. “Scott and Isaac have both referred to you as the ‘resident nerd’ and you’ve never seen the cult classic that is Buffy the Vampire Slayer?” Derek shook his head and clicked over to one of the streaming services and a very badly edited photo of Sarah Michelle Gellar came into view. 

“I saw the movie! Doesn’t that count for anything?” Stiles asked. By the displeased look on Derek’s face, Stiles figured that it very much, in fact, did not count. “It definitely doesn’t strike me as the kind of show you would be interested in,” Stiles noted, hoping the change in subject would force Derek to stop glaring at him. 

“It wasn’t, at first, but it--” Derek cut himself off and leaned his head back against the back of the couch, taking a breath as if preparing himself to make some big admission. Stiles stayed quiet as Derek rubbed his palms against his thighs. “Laura loved it. She and my mother would watch it every Monday night and Laura had these ridiculous posters on her wall of Buffy and Willow and--” Derek cleared his throat and Stiles could hear the emotion behind it. 

When he said nothing more, Stiles chimed in, “So, are we watching it from the beginning or are you gonna show me your favorites?” Derek turned to Stiles with a grin so wide, it had Stiles’ heart constricting in his chest and his stomach face flushing with embarrassment. He wasn’t sure when he had become able to make Derek smile like that, but he was extremely happy he could. 

“I think you’ll never wanna watch another episode if we start with season one so…” Derek trailed off and clicked through a few episodes, his eyebrows rising and falling and his nose crinkling in decision. Stiles had never seen him look so childish, so innocent, and all he wanted to do was watch this stupid TV show with Derek forever. 

“Find one?” Stiles guessed and Derek turned to him with another wide grin. Derek grabbed the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table, settling in as he nodded at Stiles slowly. 

“If you have questions, you can--”

“I’m gonna ask about a million of them,” Stiles interrupted, taking a noisy bite of his first Cheeto and stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on Derek’s lap. “You’ve gotta have all the answers, though,” Stiles warned, holding a cheesy finger up to Derek’s face. Derek rolled his eyes and smacked it away, Stiles’ laughter filling the air. 

“You’re not going to make fun of me for this, are you?” Derek asked as his thumb hesitated over the play button on the remote. Stiles shrugged and grabbed the controller, pressing play before Derek could argue. 

“I am absolutely going to make fun of you for this, there’s no doubt in my mind.” Derek’s groan was drowned out by a British voice introducing the next episode and Stiles moved his focus to the recap, trying to take in the things he might have missed from not watching the show from the beginning. 

“Passion; it lies in all of us. Sleeping, waiting, and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir, open its jaws, and howl,” Stiles heard the voice of the broody looking guy on TV, but underneath was a shy whisper and when he glanced over at Derek, he threw his hands over his mouth to stifle his giggles. 

“Derek, oh my god,” Stiles choked out through his laughter, placing his snack beside him before it toppled over. 

“What? It’s an iconic quote!” Derek argued. Stiles nodded and tried to be serious - he really tried - but Derek mouthed the next few words as if trying to hold them in and Stiles groaned. 

“Just say them,” Stiles relented as he paused the show, turning to face Derek who was pressing his lips together tightly. 

“You’re going to make fun of me…” Derek said, narrowing his eyes at Stiles. 

“Of course I’m going to make fun of you, but I’m gonna do it whether you say the rest of the quote out loud or not, realistically,” Stiles countered. Derek sighed and pressed play again, his eyes not leaving Stiles’ as the male character started speaking. 

“It speaks to us, guides us. Passion rules us all, and we obey. What other choice do we have?” Derek finished as the extraordinarily loud and obnoxious theme music blasted through the speakers. Stiles covered his ears and glared at Derek whose laughter rivaled the shrill of the guitar. 

“If I didn’t know this was a 90’s television show, this music would have completely given it away,” Stiles commented as the sound faded into the show again. 

“Just… keep watching,” Derek demanded, though his voice sounded shy. It was as if he was scared that Stiles wouldn’t like it and that made Stiles fall in love - with the show that is - even more. 

Throughout, Stiles would make comments so that Derek knew he was paying attention. He would shout out, “He killed her fish? Man, that’s so fucked up” and, “That crazy vampire girl talks in riddles like Deaton.” Each time, Derek would nod in response, chuckle, and smile. He would even glance over and make sure Stiles was paying attention if he was quiet for too long. Sometimes, Derek would even chime in with his own comments. 

“There’s something messed up about this teacher, but I mean, that might be some leftover Beacon Hills High School trauma.” 

“You think?” Derek commented with a huff, clearly remembering the weird amount of evil teachers that made their way into Stiles’ classrooms. Derek had always hated them the most as they spent more time around the pack than he was able to. He had never admitted that out loud, but Stiles knew it was true.

“I want Joyce to punch him,” Stiles noted, cheering when Buffy and Willow came into view, chanting words that sounded like something Lydia would say. “Oh my god, did she just devamp the house? I wish I could do that with werewolves,” Stiles teased, holding his arms up in defense when Derek flicked his nose.  

“You can, you idiot, it’s called mountain ash,” Derek retorted, reaching over Stiles to grab a few Cheetos. Stiles pretended not to notice that they were closer than they ever had been. 

When the episode turned more serious than Stiles had expected, he curled into Derek’s side and shoved his cheek into his warm chest. It wasn’t that he was scared, but he didn’t think that Jenny was about to make it out of there alive due to supernatural circumstances and that hit a little too close to home. When Angel broke her neck, Stiles turned his face away as Derek’s hand settled against the back of his head, brushing through the short strands comfortingly. 

There was sadness filling his stomach as the cute British librarian walked up the stairs and the music swelled. When he glanced up at Derek, there was a tear falling down his cheek. Even still, he whispered the words that left Angel’s lips, “Passion is the source of our finest moments; the joy of love, the clarity of hatred, and the ecstasy of grief.”

They stayed pressed together like that, neither of them making a move to turn away. Stiles listened to the steady beat of Derek’s heart and the way it jumped during more action filled moments. When the too long silence made him jittery, Stiles spoke again, knowing his words would tick Derek off enough to argue. 

“You know, Xander has a point,” Stiles stated after Xander said exactly what he was thinking. Someone should have really murdered Angel before, but Stiles guessed there was something he was missing. 

 “Are you kidding? Buffy is right and Giles is going to get himself killed if he doesn’t think about his act--!” Derek paused a few moments before sighing, “Wait, that is exactly what you would do.” Stiles grinned at him and nodded. 

Stiles loved the easy way they bickered back and forth on the plot Derek seemed to understand down to the most minuscule detail. He loved the way Derek related to the characters, felt for their losses and their grievances. He knew, even after only one episode, why Derek had been so attached to the show. It was beyond a familial memory, that much Stiles was sure of. When Angel’s voice narrated again, Stiles gazed up from where his head had rested on Derek’s lap for the last few minutes. 

Again, Derek whispered the words, “It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace, but we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank.” Derek seemed to tear his eyes away from the show and they met Stiles’ with just as much passion as he was speaking about, and finished, “Without passion, we'd be truly dead."

Stiles thought his heart stopped at the intensity of Derek’s gaze and the softness of his voice and realized that Derek was bearing his soul to Stiles by showing him that bit of his past. He was letting Stiles in, hoping Stiles would take the invitation openly, and asking him to stay. 

“Did you like it?” Derek asked hesitantly as if scared of the answer. 

Stiles pursed his lips and pretended to think about his answer before deciding, “Can we watch it from the beginning?” 

[florenceandthemachine]

and finally, because i’m a basic bitch and i love a classic cliche trope, stackson and fake dating (◕‿◕✿)

I’m making this a Part One. Why? Because I’m a messy bitch. 

If I ever wrote anything on AO3, this would be the first chapter, but I don’t because that’s too much responsibility. 

SO.

Fake Boyfriends. Lets go. 

“My parents are taking me to England for Christmas.”

Jackson was never great with hellos. 

“What?”

Stiles, on the other hand, wasn’t always that great with comprehension. 

To his credit, though, he had been eyes-deep in several books about the history of Quetzalcoatl, a feathered, snake-like, flying deity of Mesoamerican culture that he was writing a history report on. He was also about 80% sure that was the thing that Scott had been in a fight with last week, so… well. It was just a wonderful way to double dip, get twice the work done and get graded for doing the research that he would have to do to save their own skin in the first place. 

So, his eyes were a little crossed and his head was probably spinning a little bit as he looked up to see Jackson, standing there, his hair messy (that was red flag number one) and his eyes bright blue (that was red flag number two) and—

“Stiles, pay attention. My parents are taking me to England for Christmas.”

—and Jackson was using his first name, which was red flag number three.

Shaking his head clear of thoughts of feathered snakes, Stiles rubbed his eyes with one hand, sweeping aside some of the books and papers he had laid about the table with the other, effectively making room for Jackson to sit. 

And sit Jackson did, looking like an angry, deflated puppy. Stiles had to quash that mental train of thought—yet again—about how cute Jackson could look while he was angry. He knew better than to speak when those thoughts were swimming around in his head, but that was okay, because he knew that there was no amount of prodding that would be successful when Jackson was in A Mood. 

But seriously—what the fuck was wrong with England? It seemed like a very Whittemore trip, and even then, it—

“I don’t think we’re coming back.”

Feeling his heart skip a beat as panic quickly focuses him on the task at hand, Stiles gapes for a half second before forcing his mouth shut, Quetzalcoatl long since forgotten as he took on this new… threat. At least, it felt like a threat. Jackson was pack, after all. “Jackson, that’s… insane. They can’t do that.”

Jackson’s eyes flick over to him, his eyes hard and unforgiving, and Stiles pales. 

“Can they?”

Jackson spends the next half hour going over everything (and honestly, if the situation weren’t so apparently dire, Stiles would have been on cloud nine, knowing that they apparently had long since moved past enemies)—how his fathers law firm had opened up a branch in London almost three years ago, how they had been dogging Jackson’s father to basically run the joint. Apparently, it escalated over the past year (“after Lydia and I broke up, which apparently means that I’m fine to go and have no other fucking attachments”) and Jackson had stumbled upon an entire itinerary, moving quotes, property listings, the whole nine yards. 

Stiles let his angle loop around Jacksons as the other started to wind down, pulling from some old Scott knowledge, giving Jackson some physical contact to ground himself with—even unconsciously.

“…and now I think that we’re going to go up there for our little fucking vacation, and suddenly I’m going to wake up and there’s going to be a moving truck outside with all my shit.” Jackson is out of breath when he finishes, his head in his hands in frustration, voice muffled through what Stiles can only imagine is a mouth full of fangs and his own deep breathing exercises. 

The silence between the two lingers in the air for the moment as Jackson works to get his breathing under control, and Stiles squares his jaw as he nods his head. 

“When do you leave?”

“Stilinski, you can’t just fix this, you—“

“I’m not fucking with you, Jackson. When do you leave.”

Jackson turns his head, his eyes shockingly human.

“…after finals. Saturday evening.”

“Good. I have some time then.”

And with that, Stiles stood and walked out of the room, leaving Jackson overall confused—and, weirdly, missing the weight against his ankle that he didn’t even notice was there. He only had a moment to miss it, though, before his attention was taken over by the stacks of shit left behind on the table.

“….wait! Stilinski! What about all of your shit?!”

~

Jackson may not have had the strongest belief in Stiles fixing this, but once they had completed their final exams, that small flicker of hope had basically been doused in water. He was positively miserable by Saturday morning, more or less moping around his house, and he would have been almost angry to hear Stiles’ jeep pull up if he wasn’t so fucking resigned to it all.

Hauling himself down the stairs, he throws the door open before Stiles even has a chance to knock, and he’s… carrying a suitcase. 

“…Stilinski, what the fuck.”

Because Stiles is beaming at him like the sun, like he had just solved all of Jackson’s problems, and that is a concerting look. He flips his suitcase around with a grand flourish, backpack slung over his shoulder, the Jeep parked off to the side of the driveway. 

“I’m coming with you.”

“The fuck you are.”

“Yes, the fuck I am.”

“Stilinski—“

“You said it yourself, Jackson. Lydia acted as the perfect buffer. So I’ll take that position. And I’ll have to come home at some point, so I’ll just make sure I bring you with me.”

God, he was making it sound so easy—but Jackson wouldn’t let himself hope, for an instant, that it would be so simple. 

“Stilinski, you can’t just leave your dad alone for the holidays.” Jackson snapped, slightly concerned as Stiles just shrugged that off. “He won’t be alone. He has Scott, and Melissa, and the pack. And the pack includes you too, asshole. So, I’m going.”

Jackson felt his scowl deepen as he tried again, worry sparking in his stomach. “This isn’t a simple day trip, you idiot. You don’t have a ticket, you don’t even have—“

“I have my passport, dumbass.” Stiles snarked as he pulled it out of his backpack, smacking it against Jackson’s chest. “And you’re a Whittemore. Do you really mean to tell me you can’t get another ticket last minute? Are your connections really that useless?”

Jackson gaped at him, his irritation spiking again. Of course they could get another ticket, that wasn’t the fucking point.

“That isn’t the fucking point.” So maybe his eloquence was lacking in his current state, sue him. “It won’t work. Lydia wasn’t a buffer just because she was there, she was a buffer because she was—“

“Jackson, who was at the do… oh, hello, uh… what’s going on?”

Stiles and Jackson both looked up in near perfect sync as Jackson’s mother descended the stairs, his hand still pressed against Jackson’s chest, suitcase still lingering in the doorway.

Jackson snapped his eyes back to Stiles with a glare, brow moving in a truly impressive (and vaguely Hale-esque way, Derek would be so proud). 

Stiles, the bastard, only smiled, watching Jackson’s jaw tic as his mind moved a thousand miles an hour. After what felt like an eternity, Jackson nodded curtly, pulling Stiles’ arm as he turned back to the stairs. His other hand slid around Stiles waist, tugging him close, and Stiles only had half a moment to go into shock before Jackson was speaking. 

“Uh, you remember Stiles, right? I invited him along for Christmas this year.” Jackson started, his press-polite-fake smile plastered on his face, and… wait, when did Stiles learn the difference between his real and fake smiles?

“I’m sorry I didn’t clear it with you, I spaced it out. But it would mean a lot to me if he could come with us.”

Stiles felt his heart sink a little, guilt weighing on him in the slightest way—he couldn’t put into words how uncomfortable he was with Jackson apologizing for his own lie. Jackson could smell it on him, and he squeezed Stiles a little tighter, already accepting the unspoken apology.

“Can you see if Dennis can add another ticket and room, last minute? It would mean a lot to me to be able to spend Christmas with my boyfriend.”

…

Wait, what?

Stiles must have been as shocked as Jackson’s mother looked, but thankfully, she recovered far before Stiles could even process what was going on. She was off in moments, talking about how lovely it would be to have company with them, her smile seemingly genuine as she went back upstairs.

Stiles, on the other hand, was stuck in place, gaping at Jackson like a fish out of water, and Jackson, the asshole, was watching, a smirk slowly spreading on his lips. 

“I was saying that it wouldn’t work, you fuckhead, because Lydia wasn’t just a buffer due to proximity. She was the perfect buffer because she was my girlfriend.” Jackson’s smile was sweet but his words were pure poison, and Stiles closed and opened his mouth a few more times before he found his voice again. 

“Who the fuck is Dennis?”

Jackson actually did laugh at that, a curious expression on his face, explaining the wonders of being on a first-name basis with a travel agent as he snatched Stiles passport, took a picture of all of the relevant information on it, and sent it to… well, Dennis, Stiles assumed.

His gape turned into a grimace, though, when Jackson turned fully to him, already starting to shutter himself. 

“Look, I know this wasn’t what you had in mind, at all, and don’t even lie to me and say you’re fine with it. So if you want to back out, this is your… only chance, Stilinski.“

“Stiles.”

“What?”

“Dude, if I’m your boyfriend now, it’s Stiles. No last name crap.”

“….fake boyfriend, if anything, and what I’m saying is—“

“Jackson, shut up and listen to me.” Stiles said, grabbing Jackson’s hand and putting it directly onto his heart. Jackson, blessedly, shut up as requested. His tongue suddenly heavy in his mouth—he swallowed, all too aware that he probably wasn’t going to be a huge fan of whatever came out of Stiles mouth next. He was never a fan of people forcing him to hear what they said as truth, but something in his gut told him that it wouldn’t be quite the sucker punch coming from Stiles. 

“You are pack.” No lie detected. 

“You’re important to the pack.” …no lie detected.

“And I am never, ever, letting anyone take you from the pack.”

Jackson didn’t even need to feel Stiles heartbeat to know he was telling the truth. 

Hearing it so blatantly laid out before him wasn’t the sucker punch to the stomach that Jackson was expecting, it was so, so much worse. Jackson would have preferred the sucker punch to the sudden feeling of butterflies.

[ellaenchanting]

Hypnovember 2019 Master List

Jesus. Jesus Christ, that’s a lot of writing. I don’t really consider myself a writer generally and this is definitely the first time I’ve written this much this quickly. I’m going to look at my word count soon, but- I think I may have written a novel’s length of words? Wow.Thanks to everyone who encouraged me during this or provided support/ideas: thinking of @daja-the-hypnokitten , @liminal-wanderings , @mr-ackerman , @spiralturquoise , @wellgnawed , @sex-obsessed-lesbian , and @hypno-sandwich especially here but there were lots of y’all who reblogged or made kind comments. I appreciate every one of them. :)

Here’s a catch up of everything I’ve written so far this month. In honor of @jukeboxemcsa, I’ve also included a HypnoBS rating where 1 is absolute bullshit and 5 is normal Tuesday night.

Icons- 📰- story. 🔊- audio 💻- technology 😍- romantic 🌈- queer 😴- regular ole’ hypnosis 🛀- brainwashing and/or hypnotist in a tub 👻- spooky 🐈- at least one happy pussy ❓- bad or reeeally questionable consent ✝️- author's weird religious feels that somehow kept coming up

Day 1: Base Character-F/f 📰😍🌈🛀🐈 

Choice quote: ”Or maybe it was the ship of Theseus- Janine seeing how many little pieces of her she could replace until she fundamentally just wasn’t the same person anymore.”

HypnoBS- I haven’t done this kind of play and have no first hand experience. Let’s say 3.

Newly added 11/18: @undersleeper requested some extra information on how the brainwashing was actually done in this story so I added this non-canon sequel. (I think the sequel boosts the BS score to a 4.)

Day 2: Colors- F/nb 📰😴 🌈

Choice quote: “Bri used to consider themselves a bad hypnotic subject.”

HypnoBS- 4. I haven’t done this induction specifically but love doing these kinds of overloads

Day 3: Dizzy- no gender specified🔊😴

Choice quote: “When you take deep breaths, you feel like you’re getting more oxygen, but actually the opposite is true.”

HypnoBS-5. Should get you in trance, we’re not ranking the accuracy of all the science herein.

Day 4: Sing- m/f kinda I guess? 📰👻❓

Choice quote:  “Tonight wasn’t the night to give in, he told himself. Not yet.”

HypnoBS- 1. Thank God.

Day 5: Poison- M/f 📰😍🛀🐈

Choice quote: “Lila could admit it. She was kind of a brat.But Sean? He was worse. He was a fucking troll.“

HypnoBS- 4? Haven’t done it, could probably make something in this realm work with the right person.

Day 6: Summon- F/f 📰😍😴🌈🐈

Choice quote: “Number one, there is no butch street cred. And number two- if there was such a thing, you and I both know that being seduced by a beautiful woman would only increase it.”

HypnoBS- 3 or 4. It’s quick and there would need to be a lot more talking generally. But sure.

Day 7: Underwear- F/f 📰😴🌈

Choice quote: “Under….where”, Destiny tested the word out loud. It sounded like a portmanteau of some sort. She understood the word “under” and the word “where” (or “wear”? “where are” maybe? maybe it was German?) but those two words together didn’t form much of a picture.”

HypnoBS- 5. Although have only done this as a hypnotist so I can’t speak to subject POV. This kind of thing is adorable to watch, though.

Day 8: Neighbor- F/f📰😍🌈 ❓

Choice quote: “When Jiyeon tapped her pencil, Alyssa tapped her pencil lightly to match.”

HypnoBS- 1. Maybe 1.5 since there are no monsters or demons.

Day 9: Idiotic- no gender specified���😴

Choice quote: “Because Id-iotic. It’s literally what you want deep down”

HypnoBS-4. Not my thing but with the right people- sure.

Day 10: Smell- F/m 📰😴😍🛀🐈

Choice quote: “Belinda had also woken up from sexy dreams at night to the feeling of Ray’s head buried in her cunt.”

HypnoBS- 3 on the details. Some parts are more plausible than others. We’re outside my realm of experience here so others could probably rank more accurately.

Day 11: Broadcast- Hypnovirus/f 📰💻🛀✝️

Choice quote: “It felt important to present herself to the screen in a way that demonstrated her vulnerability and openness to instruction.”

HypnoBS- 4. Probably not likely, but I could see this kind of symbolic bleed with the right person pretty easily.

Day 12: Stage- M/m 📰😍🌈😴

Choice quote: “Brandon had not mentioned the hypnosis thing to Scott- it felt weird and personal and he had already half-convinced himself that he was being creepy in response to Scott’s platonic friendliness. He didn’t want to scare him off. He had never expected to see him here.”

HypnoBS- 5. At least as far as the hypnosis goes

Day 13: Bath- no gender specified 🔊🛀😴

Choice quote: *insert rambling about Pat Collins here*

HypnoBS- 5. But also a high general BS score. I was tired and needed to finish a thing. I am surprised but grateful people liked this one. :P

Day 14: Machine- M/f 📰😴💻😍✝️

Choice quote: “For as long as she could remember, Deidre had longed for self-annhilation.”

HypnoBS- 1. That’s not how brains work.

Day 15: Ooze- there’s a m and a f 📰😴🛀❓

Choice quote: “For example, your badge- did you know that putting all the stickers on the top of your badge like that usually means that you’re a hypnotist?”

Amy’s eyes widened a bit. “It does?”

HypnoBS- 2. Sadly.

Day 16: Wedding- something/f 📰👻❓

Choice quote: “She knew then that she was alone. No one could help her. No one could even see her.”

HypnoBS- 1.

Day 17: Gentle- a different something/f  📰 kinda 🐈❓✝️

Choice quote: “As long as she didn’t focus on it, it would write the story for her.”

HypnoBS- 1. I think. :P

Day 18: Infection- not stated/m 📰 🛀❓

Choice quote: “If he could just get the song out of his head, maybe he’d have a chance.”

HypnoBS- 2. 

Day 19: Hideout- F/f 📰  🐈 😍😴🛀🌈

Choice quote: “’Come to me, pet. Come to me.’ 

Mesmera.

 She could always sense when Galaxy Girl was weak. She consistently picked the perfect time to strike.

And now, she had found her apartment.”

HypnoBS-4.5

Day 20: Watch- no gender specified 🔊 😴

Choice quote: “Feel your thoughts just tick tick tick tick ticking gone”

HypnoBS-5

Day 21: Fighting- F/m 📰 😴

Choice quote: “His mistress loved resistance play. She delighted in watching him struggle and strain against an irresistible impulse.”

HypnoBS-5 Mmmm :)

Day 22: Mistaken- F/an entire hypnocon  📰  😴

Choice quote: “Ginger- submissive, wide-eyed, bottomy Ginger- was holding a crowd of 8 people in her hypnotic thrall. Some had their eyes closed already, while others were staring at her with the rapt look of early trance.“

HypnoBS- 4. But only because I haven't seen it yet. :P

Day 23: Heist- F/m  📰  🛀❓(😍 but it’s pretty messed up)

Choice quote: “The inside of the vault had gotten somewhat sparse-looking- David had been cleaning out the bank out at a much quicker pace recently- but there were still plenty of treasures here to bring to his mistress.”

HypnoBS- 3, maybe 2

Day 24: Business F/f 📰 😴😍🌈

Choice quote: “Summer was a well-mannered southern girl at heart. She knew that if something was none of her business, it was impolite and rude to know it. Best not to think about it too much. She didn’t want to be nosey.”

HypnoBS- 4

Day 25: Babble F/m📰 😴 🛀 (💻 kinda)

Choice quote: “You can feel your access to language lessening….and lessening. Feeling those parts of your brain losing blood, quieting, going to sleep. Imagine what that might look like on the fMRI- the color draining, darkening, going black. Your ability to use language can be almost completely gone.”

HypnoBS- 5 (Neuroscience BS- closer to 3)

Day 26: Enemy M/f 📰 😴😍🐈 

Choice quote: “When she was denied for long periods of time, everything became sexual.”

HypnoBS- 5. Unf.

Day 27: Confidence F/m 📰 😴❓

Choice quote: “Dr Eleanor had been recommended to Richard by his friend Jon who had seen her previously. “She won’t bullshit you,” he had said, “she just gets right to the roots of your issues and helps you solve them.” He must have known what he was talking about- a year after visiting Dr Eleanor, Jon had recently married a wonderful woman. He was also running marathons and succeeding professionally. There were worse people to listen to, Richard thought.”

HypnoBS- 3 (although this kind of gaslighting is real and can be effective)

Day 28: Abduction F/f M/f background m/m 📰 😴😍🌈

Choice quote: “’And so she….’ Lilliana stopped. She stared for a moment in surprise at the space between Cirie’s fingers. Cirie looked like she was holding a small, invisible ball. Liliana tried to recall her train of thought (something about work?) but found herself strangely blank.

She looked at Cirie in astonishment. 

‘You took it!’ she accused.”

HypnoBS- 5

Day 29: Doctor Doctor/Master (from Dr Who) 📰 😴🌈💻

Choice quote: “The doors in the Master’s mind all appeared to be open. The Doctor quickly scanned for malicious intent but-

Oh.

Oh my.

So that’s why.”

HypnoBS- I...uh...1?

Day 30: Kink The author/her self-indulgent whims 📰 🌈

Choice quote: “Ultimately, she really just  liked her friends- and she especially loved hearing all of their stories.”

HypnoBS- Cake. Imma eat a cake.

Thank you all for reading these! I know this is a long post, but I’d really appreciate reblogs of it. If you’ve liked my stories, please consider leaving me a tip on Ko-fi! Also I’d be happy to give extra information on any of the characters or a bit of what happens next if you want to send me an ask about any of these stories. I’m finding myself with a strange craving to write. Funny how that works. :P

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

Courtney’s 4K/Quarantine Writing Challenge!!

So, not only did I hit 4,000 followers a little while ago (thank you all so much again for that!) but we’re also all stuck inside for the foreseeable future and I know we’re all bored out of our minds (or at least I am) and I don’t read anywhere near enough fics as I should (and as I want to) so I figured since I’m going a Write Fest on my own blog to celebrate 4K (I’ll link it here if you want to check it out) I thought I could extend that to all of you guys as well!

So yeah, writing challenge, premise is pretty simple, I’ve hosted a couple before (lowkey flops but we move), you read the rules, abide by them, pick a prompt and a character and you write!

As always with me, I’m a nerd and so the prompts are split into categories - there are song lyrics, book quotes, comedy quotes and film quotes to choose from!

I hope you guys want to join in with this! I love reading what you guys write and this could be a really fun way to just keep us all moving and inspired over the next few months :)

The Rules

1) You don’t have to be following me but it would be nice because I’m lonely and want friends plz

2) If your piece of writing is over 500 words, please use the ‘read more’ feature

3) Reblog this post to get the word out (and tag anyone who may be interested!)

4) It’s going to be one person per prompt but if needed I can add more prompts

5) Smut is fine but please leave warnings as appropriate (THOUGH NO UNDERAGE CHARACTER SMUT THANKS)

6) On the back of that one, no inappropriate pairings pleaseeeeee

7) Also please make sure you leave appropriate warnings at the beginnings of fics if any sensitive subjects are brought up (e.g. mental health etc)

8) Ships and OC’s are welcome

9) Tag me in your writing!

10) Use the hashtag #Courts4KWritingChallenge

11) If you want to enter send me an ask with the prompt you want and the pairing you’ll be writing it with

12) The deadline for this is 15th July (this can be extended if y’all need it)

Characters/People/Pairings

1) Any of the BoRhap dudes and their characters 

2) (BoRhap!)Queen members (Freddie only platonically)

3) The Hargreeves Children (older!Five only)

4) Richard Madden (+ his characters)

5) Taron Egerton (+ his characters)

6) Rocketman!Bernie Taupin and Ray Williams

7) Smosh Members

8) Jake Gyllenhaal (+ all his various characters)

9) Chris Evans (+ his characters)

10) Sebastian Stan (+ his characters)

11) Any of the 5sos guys (poly!5sos fics also both welcomed and encouraged)

12) Stranger Things peeps (Steve, Billy + Robin/their cast counterparts)

13) One Direction guys (Niall, Harry + Louis)

14) Pevensie children

15) Sex Education (cast + characters)

Prompts

Song Lyrics

“Wake up sunshine, somebody loves you” - Wake Up, Sunshine by All Time Low

“When I take a look at my life and all of my crimes you're the only thing that I think I got right” - Lover of Mine by 5 Seconds of Summer ( @angiefangirlworld-2 w/ Ashton)

“Kiss in the kitchen like it’s a dance floor” - Sunflower Vol.6 by Harry Styles

“There'll never be another, I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life” - Black and White by Niall Horan ( @unn--known​ w/ someone from 1D)

“Let's keep each other safe from the world” - Lucky People by Waterparks

“Never wanted to be the boy next door, always thought I'd be something more” - Drowse by Queen

“And when I touch you I feel happy inside, it's such a feeling that my love I can't hide” - Hold Your Hand by The Beatles ( @flick-ofthe-wrist​ w/ Roger Taylor)

“It’s hard to think you could ever hate me, but everything's feeling different now” - Too Young by Louis Tomlinson

“All I can do is say that these arms were made for holding you” - 18 by One Direction

“I waited for her call - she always kept me waiting” - The Girl at the Rock Show by Blink-182

Book Quotes

“I am so busy keeping my head above water that I scarcely know who I am, much less who anyone else is” - The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

“Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do you start missing everybody” - The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger 

“Sometimes, I feel the past and the future pressing so hard on either side that there’s no room for the present at all.” - Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh

“I have measured out my life in coffee spoons” - The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot

“As far as I’m concerned, I came out of the womb spouting cynicism and wishing for rain.” - Solitaire by Alice Oseman

“We cross our bridges as we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and the presumption that once our eyes watered.” - Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead by Tom Stoppard

“Sometimes people are beautiful. Not in looks. Not in what they say. Just in what they are.” I Am The Messenger by Marcus Zusak

“I love her, and that’s the beginning and end of everything” - The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Flitzgerald

“I just want you to know that you’re very special and the only reason I’m telling you is that I don’t know if anyone else ever has” - The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chebowsky ( @coupscarat w/ Damien Haas)

“Was there some kind of rule against drop kicking arseholes in the face? Probably. They always had rules against things that needed to be done” - Made You Up by Francesca Zappia

Comedy Quotes

“You have to treat everybody’s views, no matter what they believe, with respect” “What, even idiots?” Outnumbered

“Well you shouldn’t be prejudiced against fat people, thin people… men who have turned into women, women who have turned into men, gay people, ginger people… people from Liverpool” Outnumbered 

“Stand back kids, this school’s insurance policy doesn’t cover blown minds” Bad Education

“Do you think you could stop being so cheeky?” “Do you think you could stop asking stupid questions?” Outnumbered

“I spend my entire life around people. As much as I would like to, it’s almost impossible to avoid them” The Inbetweeners ( @queen-bunnyears​ w/ Ben Hardy or Sebastian Stan)

“We’re very hufflepuff here, wouldn’t you be happier in slytherin?” Fresh Meat ( @adrenaline-roulette​ w/ Ben Hardy)

“What’s the best way to make friends?” “Tell a woman you love her, and she says ‘I think we’re just friends’” Jimmy Carr, Jon Richardson

“There’s four things you can be in life: sober, tipsy, drunk and hungover. Tipsy is the only one that you’re not crying” James Acaster

“What’s that on your shorts?” “Oh - it’s called excitement” Smosh

“Full disclosure - I could just be an arsehole” Smosh

Film Quotes

“To me, you are perfect” - Love, Actually

“I wish I knew how to quit you” - Brokeback Mountain

“If you start crying, I’m gonna have to pretend to start crying” - Gifted ( @beysenpai​ w/ Chris Evans)

“I’m with you ‘til the end of the line” - Captain America: The Winter Soldier ( @mamaskillerqueen​ w/ Steve Harrington)

“Most of the time I just want to staple things to her head” - Bridget Jones’ Diary ( @hardforbenhardy​ w/ Ben Hardy)

“We’re family. We believe in each other. That’s everything” - Bohemian Rhapsody

“Look around: this guy basically lives in a clue board” - Knives Out

“Too many guys think I'm a concept, or I complete them, or I'm gonna make them alive. But I'm just a fucked-up girl who's lookin' for my own peace of mind; don't assign me yours.” - Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

"What I'm saying is--and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form--is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way." - When Harry Met Sally ( @acdeaky​ w/ Ben Hardy)

“You’re loved and have been loved. You’re one of the lucky ones” - Irreplaceable You

[master-sass-blast]

Five Times it Was Yours and Wade’s Fault and One Time it Wasn’t.

TIME TO GET FUCKY.

Summary: Five times that you and Wade caused some level of destruction and-or chaos at for the X-Men --and one time that it actually wasn't either of your faults.

Rating: T for language, mild-moderate verbal abuse, and mildly inappropriate hijinks.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader and (somewhat) implied Jean Grey/Scott Summers.

Set before “Questions and Answers” but after “Of First Dates and Not So First Kisses.”

Author’s Note: Scott is arguably the worst behaved in the “+1″ bit of this fic. This whole thing is just a bunch of crack and comedy, so don’t worry about missing any sort of plot if you skip that part. Also, this doesn’t really contribute anything plot/characterization-wise to the series, so if you want/need to skip it because of the mild-to-moderate verbal abuse coming from Scott --or if you’re a Scott fan and don’t want to see him getting shit on--then don’t worry, you won’t miss anything crucial.

Taglist: @chromecutie, @marvel-is-perfection, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things

1. El Pantalones Del Fuego, Except the Pants Are Water, and the Water is Your Swimming Pool, and Yeah, It’s Our Fault, but in Our Defense, It Looks Cool.

 “Wade! Y/N!”

The merc-with-a-mouth in question quickly kicks several containers labelled “heptane” behind him and out of view, while you just try to look as innocent as possible. “Yeah?” the two of you answer simultaneously.

Scott Summers, looking suitably shocked and unquestionably enraged, makes various noises of disbelief while gesturing at the swimming pool on Xavier’s property –which, thanks to the wonderful principles of Chemistry, is currently on fire. “How? How did you even do this?”

“We didn’t do anything,” you lie as more residents and students run over to see what’s going on. “This just… happened.”

“No –no! You two absolutely had something to do with thi—”

“It’s water on fire,” Wade says, barely suppressing the mirth in his voice. “Come on, Clopsie, even I don’t have that kind of power.”

You hide a smirk with your hand as Scott continues to freak out. Yeah, but chemicals sure do.

 ***

 2. Granted, We May Not Have a Future as Car Detailers, but This Still Looks Cool. Also, You’re Out of Sticky Notes.

 Fact: The standard Post-It note is three inches long by three inches wide, giving it a surface area of nine square inches.

Fact: Thanks to quote estimates for vehicle wrapping surfaces, you know that the average surface area for a four door sedan is about two hundred forty three-square feet, the average van is around two hundred ninety-seven square feet, and no one seems to have average measurements for SUVs, but most of the quote estimates start at over ten thousand dollars for those, which has to mean something.

Fact: If you try to add all those together, then convert them to inches, then multiply by the number of cars in the garage at the Institute, then divide by the surface area of a sticky note… you quickly remember why you tutor in writing and not in math.

What you do know is that you and Wade stay up the entire night of the thirty-first of March to cover every single “X-Mobile” (save for the jets, because not even Wade is crazy enough to try and cover those in Post-It notes) in sticky notes, and by the time it’s 8:45 AM, you’ve gone through well over two hundred packs of sticky notes, you’re both exhausted as fuck, and every single car has a dick made out of sticky notes somewhere on its body.

You and Wade grin, then exchange equally tired fist bumps.

Scott’s reaction is going to be legendary.

 ***

 3. Look, It Started Out as Wondering if You Could Fill A House With Enough Balloons to Lift It Off Its Foundation, Sort of Like a Bootleg “UP,” and Then We Found Out You Could Order Balloons En Mass from Amazon, and –Look—at Least We Got Latex-Free Balloons, so That Should Count for Something, Right?

 “This was incredibly wasteful, not to mention time consuming—”

“You got that right,” Wade interjects, voice pitched up and squeaky from the helium he keeps inhaling from one of the –many, many, many—balloons that the two of you used to fill the X-Mansion.

As in the whole mansion. Every single room, all three floors, and the training rooms, too.

You’d thought your fingers were going to fall off from tying off all the balloons.

(One of Wade’s actually did.)

“I am very disappointed in both of you,” Piotr continues, looking every bit the stern, steel disciplinarian with his arms crossed over his chest and his brow furrowed.

You suck in some helium from a balloon, then grin cheekily up at your boyfriend. “Sorry, baby,” you apologize, voice sounding like a cartoon character’s. “Won’t happen again.”

“Dorogoy… please.”

“Sorry.” You gulp down regular air until your voice is back at its normal pitch. “Look, we were just trying to see if we could pull an ‘UP’—”

“Myshka.”

You quickly alter course. “Hey, you have to admit that the kids are having a good time with it.”

Piotr looks over at the front of the house, where the students are delightedly shoving balloons out of the open doors and windows and releasing them to the sky, and smiles softly. “Perhaps. But that does not change that you two are in great deal of trouble. Or that you two will have to clean up all mess from prank.”

“We figured,” you say with a reassuring smile.

“We did?” Wade asks.

You kick your honorary brother in the shins to get him to comply, then grin up at your boyfriend. “We’ve got it covered, babe. No worries.”

Piotr fixes Wade with a stern look, but it softens when he looks over at you. He kisses the top of your head –gently, ever mindful of his strength—then heads off to help corral the students, seemingly satisfied with the reception of his lecture.

Wade heaves a sigh next to you. “Man,” he grumbles, voice still squeaky. “Cleaning up is gonna suck.”

“Yeah,” you agree before sucking down more helium to pitch your voice up once more. “And not in the fun way.”

The two of you laugh –then laugh again at how your laughter sounds—and collapse against the front lawn like the delighted dumbass duo you are.

(The clean-up does suck, though.)

 ***

 4. Okay, Fair Enough, This is a Waste of Food, But We Bought It With Our Own Money, and –Hey—You Have To Admit You Weren’t Expecting It.

 Wade buys the Poptarts. So many Poptarts. More than a year’s supply of Poptarts, even.

He also procures the glue and does glue application, since you’re doing –arguably—the most physically demanding part of the prank.

“What on Earth made you two think that gluing Poptarts to ceiling was a good idea!” Scott snaps, looking like he’s two seconds away from having a coronary.

Which, granted, is basically Mission Accomplished.

“Look, I understand you might suspect Wade,” you start, “but I—”

“Zip it!” Scott snarls, face red and shoulders heaving. “You’re the only person dumb enough to partner up with that.” He points at Wade. “So, don’t even try the ‘I’m so innocent’ act that you use on your boyfriend to get away with murder. It’s not going to work on me!”

You narrow your eyes into an irritated glare. “Who the fuck are you calling ‘dumb?’”

 ***

 5. Hey, All We Did Was What You Asked of Us. Mostly.

 After the “House Full of Balloons” and “Poptarts on the Ceiling” incidents, the two of you are asked to “please, scale back your exploits and consider the wastefulness of your pranks and the ruckus you create, thank you.”

So, you and Wade do just that. No more expensive, house-wide pranks. No more wasting huge amounts of supplies or food.

In fact, the crux of your next prank only takes two cartons of eggs and a roll of duct tape.

See? The two of you can be economical.

And, if the two of you also you industrial strength sealant to shut Scott’s door while he’s gone on an extended mission, no one thinks to comment about it because you do it from the inside. You wouldn’t want to cause a ruckus, after all.

And, if you also drape his entire room and everything in it with garbage bags and seal those bags together with duct tape so nothing can get under the edges, it’s because you two don’t want to ruin everything in his room. That would be wasteful.

And, if you also hook up several hospital grade air purifiers to continually pump the air out of Scott’s room, it’s because you don’t want his neighbors to deal with any sort of averse smells. That would be too grand a scale.

And, if Scott comes home to a room with rotten eggs hanging from the ceiling by strips of duct tape and a slightly maggoty mess on the floor…

Well, that’s no one’s problem but his.

***

 +1. This One Actually Wasn’t On Us. Suck It, Scott.

 It happens on a mass school camping trip in the middle of the summer.

The students are out in the middle of an otherwise abandoned, grassy field, working on practicing using their powers by playing games of balloon toss, going through rope climbing courses together, and other fun activities—

And then a car explodes.

There’s a lot of jumping and screaming as the sound of the explosion rockets through the air, then various teachers use their abilities to protect the students and everyone else as random car chunks rain down from the sky.

There’s a moment of silence as everyone stares at the car, in various state of shock—

And then the silence is shattered when Scott Fucking Summers loses his shit.

“That does it!” Scott storms over to you and Wade, face redder than ketchup and body trembling with rage. “I have had it with you two destroying Institute property at whatever idiotic whim strikes you!”

“Woah!” Wade holds up his hands defensively. “We didn’t have anything to do with this one!”

“Save it, Scarface! We both know that you’re the only one insane enough to blow up a car—”

“He’s telling the truth, you monumental as -jerk!” you shout (and quickly censoring yourself, to boot), glaring down Scott. “Wade and I didn’t do this! Our pranks might be crazy, expensive, and-or annoying, but we don’t blow up cars. Moreover, we don’t put people at risk like that!”

“Do you honestly think anyone’s going to believe that?”

“‘Do you honestly think anyone’s going to believe that?’” you repeat back in an obnoxious, nasal tone. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“You sanctimonious—”

“Enough!” Piotr storms between you and Scott, causing the shorter man to back up several paces. “I understand frustration and shock, but that does not give you right to lash out at others.”

“Are you kidding me?” Scott screams. “You let her get away with murder—”

“We didn’t do it!” Wade hollers, cutting Scott off.

“The last person on the face of the Earth that I would ever believe—”

“He’s telling the truth, Scott.”

Scott whirls, expression dumbfounded, and stares at his girlfriend, Jean. “What? Are you kidding me? You’re saying that you believe them?”

“Clarissa did it,” Jean says firmly, arms wrapped around a weeping second-grader’s shoulders. “It was an accident. She lost control of her powers.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because she told me,” Jean states flatly, expression one of irritation. “And because I can read minds.”

“Wilson’s mind can’t be read!”

“But Y/N’s can. And she’s telling the truth about both of them having nothing to do with the car exploding.” Jean narrows her eyes at her boyfriend. “Unless you think I’m lying.”

Scott flounders for a moment, then slowly realizes that everyone else –staff, teachers, and students—is staring at him.

“Go cool off for bit,” Piotr says to him, nodding in the direction of the tents.

“I don’t need—"

“Go. Cool. Off.”

Scott seems to size up the situation –chiefly, him versus three hundred plus pounds of angry, grade A Russian beef—and quickly beats feet towards the tents.

“Suck it, bitch,” Wade mutters under his breath as he watches Scott go. “Suck it so hard.” His expression goes stormy for a moment, and then it brightens again as he turns to face you. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you say after a moment as you watch Scott with unease. “I’m fine.”

[the-omni-princess]

Ambushed

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary:

When a mission turns sour, you almost sacrifice your life to save Bucky. Both of you soon realize that you both have feelings for each other.

Word Count: 2K

Prompt:

“If you touch me again, I'll break your fucking neck.”

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Warnings: Language, violence, minor injuries, minor character death, fluff, protective!Bucky

A/N:

This is for @buckygrantbarnes ‘s writing challenge!! 

#buckygrantbarneswritingchallenge

Prompt is bolded

And there are no pronouns for the reader, so any gender can read it <3

[Masterlist] [Link to this story on Ao3]

-

That’s it. You thought. I officially hate this mission. A simple mission to the outskirts of Narvik, Norway for information hidden in an abandoned Hydra facility, turned into an ambush. Bucky and you stood back to back, sweaty, dirty, both of your guns were out of bullets a while ago so you both were gripping knives. To top it all off, you were currently surrounded by twenty hydra agents, with your comms down. Your last check-in location wasn’t too far off from where you currently were but it would take Steve and Natasha a while to navigate the mountains to even reach the facility in the quinjet. You thought this would be one easy mission with the super-soldier who was constantly in your daydreams. You were very wrong.

One of the Hydra goons took a step forward, towards you, and with quick precision, you launched your last knife, which landed with a slick thud into the man’s throat. “Fuck, that was my last knife. Any ideas on escaping yet, Buck?” you groaned, raising your fists and hoping one of the idiots in front of you decided not to lounge for you now that you didn’t have a weapon.

“I’m starting to think I’m gonna have to teach you how to stop losing weapons, doll,” Bucky teased, despite only having one knife left. Another one of the men lounged for you but made the mistake of being in Bucky’s eyesight. His last knife found a place in the man’s throat, who then proceeded to cough up blood on you as he went down.

“Bleh gross,” you complained lightly, but the situation of now both of you being weaponless and surrounded by Hydra agents was starting to set in. “Remember that one day in training when it was us versus Steve and Natasha and Scott? Wanna use that tactic?”

You heard Bucky chuckle behind you, “Where was that idea twenty minutes ago?”

“Better late than never,” you mumbled. Another agent lunged, apparently, they thought going after two Avengers one by one was a fantastic idea. This time sidestepped, tripping the agent, who hit their head on the concrete below. Suddenly getting the idea one at a time wasn’t a good idea, the rest of the agents jumped towards the two of you. Bucky was managing to toss most of them off, at least you think so, and you were throwing punches to anyone who jumped too close.

Your arm was suddenly grabbed by someone who was most definitely stronger than you. Rather than pull, they pushed, the unexpected move tripping you only slightly, but it opened a window for the several agents surrounding you to grab at you. A swift kick to the back of your legs brought you to your knees, hard against the concrete, as two more agents grabbed your arms, securing you in place with cuffs. The sudden movements were making you lightheaded as you thrashed to get away but a gun cocking and a cold press of metal against your temple made you freeze. You finally noticed Bucky had taken down just about all the agents that had attacked him, then after knocking the last one near him out, he turned on his heel, no doubt about to help you. He stopped dead in his tracks, paralyzed by the sight in front of him, you, perfectly still, with a gun pressed against your head.

“Ah, that’s very good Soldat, I’m glad to see you still haven’t lost any of your abilities.” The man who held the gun to your head spoke in a faint Russian accent, making a chill go up your spine.

Bucky practically growled, his eyes were cold, emotionless, as he stared the man down. “Let her go. Now.”

The man laughed, the vibrations from his chest pushed the gun further into your temple, making a soft whimper escape your lips. Bucky’s eyes shot to you, your eyes were closed so you couldn’t see the pure fear in his eyes. “Aw, does somebody have a crush?” The man pushed the gun deeper against you, another faint whine escaping you, causing Bucky to practically growl. “Well look at that. У актива есть слабость в конце концов.” The sudden Russian threw you off, but as you opened your eyes, now locked onto Bucky, you felt a strange sense of peace. You wouldn’t let these monsters take him back, he didn’t deserve that.

“Might as well kill me,” you turned your head slightly, surprising the man. “I’d rather die than let you have your grimy hands on him.” He slapped you with the blunt end of the gun, the sharp hot pain radiated across your temple, causing you to groan softly, but it turned into a chuckle. You looked the man straight in the eyes, ignoring the blood now dripping from your head. “If you touch me again, I'll break your fucking neck.” You growled softly.

A sick smile lit up the man’s face, “Oh yeah little one? And how do you suppose you do that?”

It was your turn to grin, “You talk too much, and you don’t pay attention to the hands,” you had been subtly picking the handcuffs they placed on you, which now dropped to the floor. You pushed your elbow up, while kicking your leg out, effectively pushing the gun away from your head, and knocking one of the agents behind you onto his face. Bucky, bless his soul, caught the hint, pounced on the man with the gun. He stole the gun, breaking the man’s wrist with a sickening crack. It didn’t take you to long to knock the rest of the agents out. A loud bang against the metal door that trapped you hear caught both of your attention, both of you holding knives, Bucky aiming the gun to the door. It was knocked down, navy blue and silver stepping into the room. Both of you lowered your weapons, “Oh thank fuck its only you Stevie,” you muttered, sheathing your knife and placing a hand against the wound on your head making you hiss as Steve walked in wearing the stealth suit.

Now relatively safe, and ignoring the added presence of his best friend, Bucky turned his attention to you. He swatted your hand away from the wound, grimacing slightly, “Not sure if that was incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Could have gotten yourself killed, doll.” He gently put pressure on the wound, making you whine. “Fuck, it might need stitches.”

“You’re best friends with the self-sacrificing idiot standing at the door, I doubt this is the worst you’ve seen, Buck.” You mused. “Besides, it was that guys fault for not paying attention to the first rule of magic, always watch the hands.” You did a little jazz hands motion, causing him to chuckle, making you smile faintly.

With Steve watching both of your sixes, Bucky helped you back to the quinjet. Nothing was broken, and although the cut on your head probably needed stitches, it wasn’t too bad. You were sure though that Bucky Barnes, former Winter Soldier, was mother henning you. He sat beside you quietly on the quinjet, cleaning the cut. “It definitely needs stitches, doll. Do you trust me to do them?” he was gently pressing a piece of medical gauze to try to stop the bleeding.

“I trust you with my life, Bucky,” you replied, locking eyes with the super soldier. You both blushed, looking away from each other as Bucky coughed faintly, hiding a small smile as he grabbed the sutures. Neither of you saw Steve and Natasha give each other knowing looks as they watched you two.

“If it hurts too much let me know,” he said softly, you nodded, already gripping his metal arm. If he minded, he didn’t say anything. He stitched up the cut quickly, making sure he wasn’t hurting you. To your own credit, you only winced a few times.

“Bucky?” you asked softly once he was done, biting your lip.

“Yeah, doll?”

“What did that man say? When he was speaking in Russian? I only caught two of the words.” At the mention of Russian, Nat leaned in faintly, wanting to see this scene unfold, wishing she had popcorn. “Aктив… that’s what he called you, as if it was a name. and then слабость. But I don’t know what either of those words mean.”

Bucky sighed softly, throwing away the gauze as he bandaged your cut to hold the stitches together. “Asset… that’s what they called me, even back when I was under their control. And слабость means weakness. He was saying that I had a weakness.” He finished cleaning up, sitting beside you now.

“But why would they think you have a weakness, Bucky? You’re the strongest person I know, and not just physically.” You teased the last part, but confusion was evident on your face. You didn’t notice that now Steve was now invested in this soap opera happening in front of him.

Bucky wringed his hands faintly, nervous. “He was saying you’re my weakness, doll. And well you are. Fuck, seeing that gun against your head didn’t just make me freeze, it petrified me, doll. That if I made the wrong move, you would be taken from me. He was right, I have feelings for you, more than I should.” He confessed softly. Your eyes went wide, the realization that the super soldier you were harboring a crush on for months actually liked you back.

Your grin lit up your face, blush turning your cheeks a darker shade, “You know, I don’t think that’s a weakness. Love is a strength. It’s what makes us different from them. We don’t trade lives, remember?”

He chuckled faintly, chancing a look your way, his heart melting at your smile. “God, now you’re quoting Steve? What happened to no trading lives when you told that guy off? That you’d rather die than let Hydra take me again?”

“I meant it. I would gladly die protecting you, from Hydra, from the world, anything.” You whispered softly, staring at your hands. “I care about you more than I think I should.”

An awkward silence fell in the quinjet, both of you two were too flustered to speak, and Steve and Nat were just enjoying the show, not daring to break the moment.

“I’m sorry that was out of line-“ You started.

“Go out with me-“ both of you spoke at the same time, blurting out your thoughts. Both of your eyes went wide, you out of pure shock and him out of pure embarrassment that he let his thoughts slip. Deciding he had already thrown himself off the deep end, he rolled with it. “Please, doll, go out with me?”

“Like a date?” you whispered softly, the reality of the question slowly sinking in.

He chuckled, “Yes, y/n, like a date.”

You blinked a few times before a bright smile lit up your face, hurting your cheeks. “I’d love to,”

“Fucking finally,” Natasha mumbled, heading to the pilot’s seat, Steve handing her a twenty-dollar bill. Both you and Bucky looked at them in confusion, Steve groaning softly.

“We made bets to see when one of you would ask the other out.” He clarified, causing you to blush and Bucky to groan. “Nat won by a few stupid days, Tony’s gonna be pissed, he lost too.”

“You made bets?! And you knew we both liked each other?” You frowned, leaning towards Bucky as he laughed.

“You’re both obvious, plus the fossils tell each other everything,” Natasha called out from the pilot’s seat.

Bucky turned to you, “Well at least it’s out now.” He kissed your head, brushing faintly on the bandage. “Besides, I’m going to take you on the date of your life.” He promised softly, both of you grinning at each other. It was clear to everyone else that you two that you were both idiots in love, but they had a feeling you two would figure it out pretty soon.

----

Russian Translation (From Google so I’m sorry if it sucks):

У актива есть слабость в конце концов. = The asset has a weakness after all.

----

Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings  

Check out my masterlist! Please comment, reblog, like, and tell me what you think. For any sorta tag just comment or send me an ask.

-

[halorocks1214]

the law of action

AO3 Link

Word Count: 10100

Summary: The Law of Action must be applied in order for us to manifest things on earth. Therefore, we must engage in actions that support our thoughts, dreams, emotions, and words

Previous Parts (in order): Alan | You are here! | Virgil | Scott | Gordon

these just keep getting longer fellas i dont understand how thats possible but it is. ALSO: REMEMBER IN ATTRACTION WHEN I MENTIONED THAT THESE WERE BEING WRITTEN OUT OF ORDER. HA, UH, KIND OF AN UNDERSTATEMENT I GUESS. but its here! johns pov chapter! im pretty satisfied with it, albeit a few kinks i wasnt really able to work out, so i hope you enjoy it too!

thanks again to @gumnut-logic for the prompts! "Where?" and lightning were this fic's choices. sad to see the last ones go away, but this was still a blast so thank you once more! also, just because the prompts are gone doesnt mean this series will be too ;3

Anger was a rare emotion for John Tracy.

It had to be. When dealing with the cold hard truth of data telling them something wasn't possible or dealing with annoying people who thought they knew better than him or dealing with people panicking in his ear because nobody expected the aftershock of an earthquake to be that bad, he didn’t have a choice. There were a lot of deals in life that had to be made and someone needed to play peacemaker, even if it wasn’t deserved.

It was true that he got the least angry out of his siblings, even compared to Virgil. Virgil might not get necessarily violent like Scott did, or threw caution to the wind like Gordon, or, hell, pulled off whatever John does when someone somehow manages puts him in a bad mood, but Virgil did get angry quite a lot. He just didn’t have as many blatant ways of showing it. John, on the other hand, didn’t have a lot of ticks. Pet peeves, definitely, John was no stranger to annoyance (especially with siblings like his), but not outright anger.

That didn’t mean he never got angry. He was Tracy born and bred, so that meant one the few ticks he did have surrounded the topic of family.

Specifically, his family being threatened.

John wished he was the youngest sometimes. That meant he could say things like let Scott punch the idiot already, he’d be doing the world a favor, and not get lambasted for the immature response. It also meant he could throw tantrums to hell and back and not feel like a total loser.

Like right now for example.

“EOS, I swear, if you don’t open the elevator door for me--”

“No, I won’t.”

Unbelievable.

Groaning and rubbing his face, his hands found their way up to his forehead and through his hair, holding his bangs out of his eyes for a moment. His eyes had many emotions in them, the most blatant being this shit cannot be happening right now, “EOS, do you know you’re amazing? I don’t think I’ve said that enough.”

EOS whirled for a moment, “John, I’ve seen that grin on Gordon. I cannot believe you would stoop that low.”

The grin she pointed out fell flat off his face, “Yeah, okay, you’re right about that--”

“Like I always am.”

“--So thank you,” John was going to strangle whoever defined sass so thoroughly in the dictionary. It left a bad example, “For the reminder, but seriously, I need to get up to ‘Five. It’s… important.”

It’s been a week since Alan was taken.

They’ve exhausted all options.

The only thing that could possibly get him back to them had to be International Rescue’s resources.

But EOS over here wasn’t getting the memo. Her words had that hint of childish innocence behind it. In that way that said there was no innocence whatsoever and she knew exactly what she was doing, the little shit, “John, do you really need to, or do you want to?”

There’s the inflection that John taught her. An inhale through the nose and… Uuuugghh, “EOS, I know the difference between needs and wants, this is definitely a need.”

Another lens blink, another moment of disbelief, “It seems like you have a lot of needs, John Tracy.”

John grimaced and ground his jaw together, mumbling his grievances with the current situation, “Yeah, well, if there’s any trait I truly share with my siblings, it’s that we’re all high maintenance.” His next words were more clear and designed to get the point across, “EOS, I’m not kidding, unlock the door.”

EOS stood her ground, “John, you going up there is one of the most detrimental things to you’re health at the current moment. I won’t let you.”

John threw his hands into the air, “EOS, there’s are whole lotta things that are currently detrimental to my health currently happening, one more thing won’t hurt.”

EOS lens shuttered again and John felt like it was nails on a chalkboard, “You have a point, but I’ve seen you with Scott when he’s in a similar mood. Don’t you tell him he needs to take a moment and think when he gets like this?”

John groaned as quietly as possible. Not too loud, but loud enough that EOS hopefully got the point, “Yes, I do, but I’m not Scott. We are two very different people, you have pointed this out numerous times. We have different ways of handling things, this, and ‘Five is exactly how I can fix this problem.”

That was not how he should’ve worded that. Her lights flickered in sympathy, sympathy, and he knew she finally figured out what John was trying to get at, “John, there may still be a lot I have to learn, but at least I understand--”

“No, EOS!” John snapped before he could help himself. Before she could finish explaining her point of view that was most likely right, but his desperate brain didn’t want to hear it. His brain that was running on zero energy telling him this was taking too long, fix that, “You can’t understand!”

Just like that, John was reminded of why he hated getting angry.

As soon as the words left his mouth, so did the air in his lungs. Through sheer will and determination, the only thing that didn’t leave his body was the little amounts of food he ate over the past seven days, though it really wanted to. He became very pale, and EOS could detect the not-so-trace amounts of fear that fell over his eyes.

Dammit, you idiot. Months upon that past year of work were now going to go down the drain because you blew your lid just this once! First, the call with Alan, now telling the one thing that could kill you in your sleep she’ll never essentially be good enough was--

“I know, John.”

His food came back with a vengeance, but he was bullheaded as hell, and he already caused enough damage. The last thing anyone needed was to clean up vomit. It would’ve been nicer if she got angry at him. He could handle being thrown out into space. He couldn’t handle EOS admitting he was right, least of all over blatantly cruel words.

He channeled the energy his stomach wanted to use into weak words, “E-EOS, I…” What the hell was he supposed to say? Sorry surely wasn’t going to fucking cut it.

Well, whatever he wanted to cut didn’t come up, as EOS continued as if John wasn’t the worst thing on the planet, “I’ve been doing some reading. I understand that I’ll never really understand certain human-based things like you do. You, humans, have gotten close, me being one of the better examples, as long as that’s not considered bragging, but even I’m not at that level yet. But I do at least know you and your habits. I put up with them on a daily basis.”

Because if there’s anything else John needed to fail this week, it was the one promise he made to her. His promise to keep her safe, to make sure she wasn’t treated like a mindless robot by some crazy scientists ready and willing to cut her circuitry wide open like a middle-school science project. While he would never even get close to being a quote-on-quote crazy scientist, never in a million light-years, he surely didn’t follow that middle part of his promise, “EOS, listen, I--”

“Please, John,” and now she was pleading, thinking he was going to ask to use the elevator again. Thinking he wasn’t going to give up, even after all of that. John might’ve laughed if it wasn’t his fucking fault, “I’ll help look for more options if it means you’ll stay here for a little while longer. You should stay with your family. I know how they affect you in those positive ways that you currently need.”

John was abruptly aware of his heavy, almost wheeze-like breathing. If he wasn’t careful, it could delve into one whopper panic attack, which would be so great right now, “Y-Yeah, okay. They probably won’t understand the effects of gravity over an elongated period of time like I do, so I can stay and help with that, at least. Thank you.”

As John turned around, he heard EOS whisper to herself. He could blearily tell it was actually fondness that filled her vocal waves for once, but it still stung regardless, “Idiot.”

Yeah, he really was, wasn’t he.

As he helped look over his Dad’s med-scan with Virgil, when Virgil went looking for something on the other side of the room, his father whispered, “I know this is a bad question right about now, but, is there anything we can do for you? Maybe even I? You look dead on your feet.”

John could only reply to the first half of his father’s statement with a meek, “I don’t know anymore.”

---

16-year-old John Tracy was seated atop his roof, making sure he got the perfect view of the Big-Dipper.

He was hoping to spot a more exciting constellation when he first used his new telescope, but dangit! He was just so excited to get cracking right away! He just got back from his birthday party, Alan and Gordon snoozing in their rooms while Scott and Virgil secretly finished off the cake. That was okay. John was too busy focusing on his new expensive toy to worry about having any more sweets.

His dad could pull some strings when it counted.

Newest model. The only other people who have this baby are scientists at NASA. Happy birthday, John. Sorry I didn’t get you a car like Scott.

Fuck cool cars. John would be on cloud 9 for days with this thing. Scott would call him a nerd for it. Jokes on Scott, he couldn’t zoom about 10 thousand miles into space now, could he?

Right as he nailed it, the world shook. Large arms snaked around his waist and he involuntarily found himself giggling at the contact. As soon as those limbs let go, he blushed at his reaction and cleared his throat. Suddenly, the arms were an entire body sitting down right next to him, speaking with their ever-comforting burly voice, “Hiya, son, I see you just couldn’t wait, huh?”

Rolling his eyes, John turned back into his serious, analytical self once more, “Yup, this thing’s crazy. I’m glad I got out here as quickly as I did.”

Jeff simply grinned. John was always reserved, but Jeff was a good translator for all of his sons, and he could tell that John meant this is one of the best things in my life holy crap, “That’s great to hear. The look on your face when I brought this out of the closet was certainly good enough to last me a few lifetimes.”

John snorted, “I bet it was. I heard Gordon joking about it with Alan. I don’t think I need to see any pictures anymore. I have a pretty good mental image of what I looked like.”

Jeff smiled and sighed, “No kidding. “Like a goldfish with a broken jaw.” Not the most eloquent, that Gordon is.”

Laughter rang out throughout the roof, followed by a few moments of silence. Not awkward, but not really welcomed on John’s part either, “Do you…” Stop it, John, you’re asking for too much, “Nevermind, it’s dumb.”

Jeff tilted an eyebrow, “Oh, is it? I guess you would know if something were smart or dumb, so I trust your judgment.”

Dangit, Dad, why are you so manipulative, and why are you so good at it, “I don’t know. I’ve established I wanted to be an astronaut, right?”

Jeff nodded, “Mmhmm.”

John, for some reason, felt like he needed to tread carefully, “You are also an astronaut. If there was any way for you to be able to… could you… could you come up with me the first time?”

Jeff blinked in shock, and before his son could register that as disapproval, “Huh, well, that’s certainly wasn’t what I was expecting. Sure, I don’t see why not.”

Now it was John’s turn to blink, his mouth gaped, “Wait, what? Are you serious? Aren’t there rules for this kind of stuff?”

Jeff shrugged, his shoulders clearly saying rules shmules, “I’m also one of the biggest entrepreneurs on the planet itself, and one of the most renowned ex-astronauts there are. You would not believe the lengths people are willing to go to kiss my ass. Would you feel better if I pinky promised?”

John’s nose scrunched, “You can never truly promise anything, you know.”

His father chuckled, used to his son’s antics. John was reserved, remember, “Well, you boys always credited me with doing the impossible.”

John continued challenging him, “When we were all less than 10, yeah, sure. I think Alan still thinks you can breathe in space. You. Specifically. No one else. I think he said you only wore the helmet to “protect your secret so the evil movie scientists don’t take you away.””

Chuckles turned into laughter and a clap on John’s shoulder, “Well, glad to see I still got the magic touch at least.” That same arm that playfully smacked him was now wrapped around his shoulders, “Just you wait, Johnny boy, if I can’t get on that ship with you, then you bet your ass I’ll at least be the loudest one cheering in the crowd.”

Then, suddenly, John was right, like he always was.

A promise that never should have been made: broken. A wish never fulfilled.

Dad was swallowed up by the very thing John loved.

No more space stories, no more fun moon facts, there was a void in John’s life as big as the galaxy itself, and he wasn’t sure how to walk around it, or God forbid even into it.

He tried to be the healthy sibling about it. He tried so hard. Getting through high school quicker than most so he could just worry about his family. Scott and Grandma were doing their best, and in so many ways, it was enough, but even they couldn’t bear all of the stress themselves.

But then his high school graduation came and Grandma gave him one of the biggest hugs of his and her life and he realized that he would never get one from his father again. His mom leaving this world was already bad enough, but at least his dad was there and knew how to fill in the gap after years and years of his marriage with her. You didn’t marry a woman like Lucille Tracy and not fundamentally understand how the gears in her brain turned lest you were truly insane. Maybe Dad was. Certainly would explain a lot of things from John’s perspective. Certainly would explain why she married him in the first place. Crazy attracts crazy.

Regardless, the one thing closest to his mom’s warmth and care was gone, and if he spent the night of his graduation party quietly sobbing his eyes out while the others slept, well, then he was glad they kept snoring.

Try as he might, he became just as unhealthy and unbalanced as the rest of his family, but he was more subtle about it. His self-destructive ways weren’t bad if other people had them, but when it came to him, oh, he knew it was the worst thing he could do in terms of recovery. That’s probably why the rest of the family didn’t notice (Good). John was smart, he would know better. Yes, he did, which is exactly why he dived headfirst right into it all.

Focusing on college, getting up into the star-filled void closer to his dead relatives as quickly as possible, focusing on the here-and-now to make sure this shit didn’t happen again. Making sure no family went through what theirs did.

And maybe that’s why, why he couldn’t handle the touch of others wanting to comfort him. Because it reminded him too much of what they used to have, of what they used to be. Too many hugs and kisses from others might wash away what his mom’s and dad’s felt like, and out of all the things they could potentially lose from this, those were the worst possible ones.

John was a Tracy, which meant he was stubborn.

He wasn’t going to lose the last few things he remembered about his parents if he could help it.

---

It had been just under a month, and John finally got what he wanted.

And it wasn’t working like he thought it would, if at all.

He’s been on ‘Five for three days, and for just a fleeting moment, it washed away any uncertainty. He felt back in control, if only minorly, and he held the world at his fingertips once more. Too bad the world he wanted to fix was so far away it felt like it was on the other side of the frickin solar system itself.

He promised his family four days at most. Please, just one chance. We won’t know unless we try. He wasn’t sure what cracked them first, them coming upon dead end after dead end, them finally seeing reason behind John’s argument, or if they just got annoyed with the space monitor after endless nagging and relented like tired parents.

The tiny part of John’s mind that still allowed him to joke kinda hoped it was the third option. “Easy child”, pfft. John’ll show them.

Right, right, a clear head, the most focused of IR, he can’t get unfocused or go too far off track. He’s saved many lives throughout his life, all of them thanks to his level head, but right now, he was arguably saving the most important life of all, so that meant he had even more incentive to stay focused.

In fact, he was so focused, he jumped at the sudden, feminine voice filling the room, “John, I found another article I think you would like to see about most common places criminals… John?”

Crap, he was halfway into the fetal position. Slowly uncurling, John nodded, “Oh, thank you, EOS. I’ll start reading it shortly.”

The noise of her lens adjusting sounded throughout ‘Five again, “Of course. Let me know if you would like me to start searching for a different topic, though. There has to be a limit to how many “You wouldn’t believe this” articles one can take, and I think I’m finding it really quickly.”

For the next few seconds, John was suddenly filled with a rush of determination he had been trying to get after their little confrontation in front of a locked elevator door to ‘Five.

She had been helping him out so much the past couple of weeks. Running unnecessary tests for him, searching parts of the web only she could search without getting tracked by some secret mafia, letting him know it was okay if he couldn’t get everything right the first time when two months ago she snapped at him for getting a simple algebra equation wrong due to lack of sleep. She had been especially patient with him recently, even after their little spat in the hangar, and John wasn’t sure how to process it. A tiny part wanted to resort to anger again because he clearly didn’t deserve her, but the more prevalent parts preferred something like depression or even apathy.

She had been making sure his world didn’t spin off its axis, and John couldn’t even tell her sorry until now.

“EOS, I’m sorry.”

She stopped moving, turned around and let her lights blink yellow for only a moment, “For what, John?”

The man in question waved his hands around in front of his face, lost, confusing her more. With a sigh, he explained, “For a lot of things, but mainly from a few weeks back when we had that argument. I said something that wasn’t okay, and I didn’t have the balls to own up to it until now. So, I’m sorry. I crossed a line I shouldn’t have even been near.”

For a little bit, it was quiet. John waited as the A.I. contemplated his words. Then, she spoke her judgment, “Well, I know you are. You haven’t exactly been working off your butt over nothing, right? Plus, reliable sources say one of the ways guilt manifests is anger. I’ve seen that with the rest of your family. It would make sense yours would too.”

John blinked. Part of him was expecting her to not fully understand why he was apologizing, but the other wanted her to just so he could get over this, just so he could let go of even just the teeniest amount of guilt he had, “EOS, anger isn’t a valid excuse. What I said was wrong. I don’t believe those words and you shouldn’t either. The whole point of this partnership is to show you that there’s more to life than just calculations and probabilities. It’s kind of hard to see that when the one person who promised to be different went and screwed it up anyway.”

John hoped EOS was at least questioning things now instead of letting his words go in one ear and out the other. Her next words said she was doing exactly the latter, “Okay. I don’t disagree with you, John, but I don’t know why you’re so hooked on this. I understand. We don’t have to worry about this unnecessarily anymore.”

Yes, you do understand. That’s the fucking point.

They weren’t getting anywhere, yet John didn’t even have the energy to groan in annoyance. He could even get his eyebrow to twitch.

All he could do was simply lean his head back against the wall and let his hair stick up against it like static electricity was flowing through it. The real reason it was sticking up was probably due to a mixture of Zero-Gs and grease from all of the showering he hasn’t been doing, however. His eyes had deep rings around them, and for a second, EOS thought about how relative age could be as a number while John softly spoke, “The Hood was an angry man, too, you know. He felt slighted by our family and wanted us to feel the same. It still doesn’t make what he did right.”

EOS thought about his words before coming to a logical conclusion, “Well, that’s certainly a leap in logic. There’s a big gap between simply yelling because you’re annoyed and literal kidnapping. One gives people a sour mood, the other gives them a significant amount of jail--”

“Yes, EOS, I’m aware of that,” John brought his hand to his face, but underneath it was a grin, telling the world that he was feeling fond exasperation more than anything. EOS was more obtuse than him sometimes. It was one of the few things of himself he wished she didn’t copy so easily. He sighed and brought his hand back down, “I’m just... putting things into perspective. I want you to see why my words were wrong. It would make me feel better if you did.”

EOS hung still, letting John’s admission roll over her wiring like a wave of electricity, “You have a lot of needs and wants. What takes precedent?”

More inflection. This time, John welcomed it. It gave him something to stand on. John wanted a lot of things. Alan to be home safe and sound, Dad to have not disappeared for nearly a decade, for his brothers to stop slowly killing themselves, for himself to stop, but the needs of the many, even the needs of one, outweigh the wants of a singular man like him, but, “Well, needs obviously, they’re necessary, however… it’s okay to be selfish every once in a blue moon. It doesn’t make you inherently bad.”

It was advice he parroted many-a-times to his family, some of them more often than others, seldom to himself if at all.

Scott, it’s okay if you have to tell them you can’t make this business conference.

Virgil, you can count inventory in the morning. You didn’t get any sleep last night either.

Gordon, if you can’t smile for a day or two, that doesn’t make you a bad person.

Kayo, you don’t have to patrol every night. We have security cams for a reason.

Alan, I know we tease you, but you missing a chore or two isn’t the end of the world.

Grandma, you already do enough for us, you barely cooking for us is the least of our worries.

That last one might be more for the rest of his family than not, but hey, two birds and one stone. Keeping his back against the wall, John stood up straighter against it, face suddenly serious, “In fact, wanting to be selfish is one of the best ways to tell that you’re human. You can’t escape it. It only becomes bad when you end up only being that.”

EOS sat in silence, her lens flickering in that way it always does when she was signifying she was about to pass judgment like a Goddess, which she seemed to be doing a lot more recently, “Well then… If I’m allowed one moment of self-reprieve, I suppose I should say that those words did… hurt.”

John grimaced despite very much understanding that he deserved it. The return of the inflection didn’t exactly help. Pushing himself away from the wall, he felt the metaphorical weight fall off his shoulders, “Yes, they did, and while they weren’t okay, it is okay to say that they weren’t. I still am very sorry.”

EOS adjusted her camera, probably to stall for time, “I know you are, John. I still forgive you, but am I correct in assuming I’m allowed some time to… recover isn’t the word I’m looking for, but--”

“Yes, EOS,” John helped her explain her own point, “Recover is a good word. You’re allowed that if you want it.”

John wasn’t sure how, but it seemed like EOS visibly relaxed, “Thank you, then, for letting me do that. This.”

For some reason, John did too, “Of course.”

It was a soft kind of awkward silence, where both parties had something on their mind but they weren’t entirely sure if they wanted to say it out loud. This is why EOS appreciated John more than the others, he simply let silence be silence. It allowed her time to think, unlike how Scott and Virgil kept asking questions, or how that awful duo made noises and messes only to have a chance at making people laugh. As if that was the most important thing they needed to do.

The nights the youngest called John were endless with his constant babbling that tended to grate her circuit boards. The only reason she let it happen was that John seemed to loosen up at the interaction. He became less weary, less worried-filled. He seemed to greatly enjoy the audial presence of Alan Tracy, let alone the way he lit up when the youngest actually showed up in person. It was just unfortunate that it seemed like the kid could never keep his mouth shut.

Then again… from what John said, the whole reason there wasn’t any more Alan was because he did keep it shut. At the worst moment possible. Now there wouldn’t be any more babbling period. Alan was gone, and the whole family was suffering from the new silence. EOS reasoned it was from the general idea of forced silence instead of just freely being able to leave the room or being able to tell him to quiet down, but maybe it was more than that. She could make another list of options to consider.

Plus, it was weird to think about a future where all of those video game walkthroughs she was forced to save would never be used again. John insisted that they weren’t just wastes of megabytes, so...

Hmm.

“Could you…” EOS trailed off, and before John could comprehend the unusual behavior of the A.I., she started speaking again, “Could you tell me more about Alan? I’m starting to think I judged him rather harshly.”

John took a moment to register her words and promptly snorted, “Well, most of your assumptions about him aren’t entirely unfounded, but that’s one of the joys of being an older sibling, I guess. Surprises around every corner,” there was regret in her voice and John knew he had to treat this as gently as he would a newborn child otherwise he would never hear it again.

EOS flickered, “I thought you didn’t like surprises.”

Uh, “Well, not usually, but there are a few from time to time that I could look back on and call them… quaint, in a sense.” Suddenly, a memory resurfaced, and John found himself grinning like he was doped up on nitrous oxide, “Yeah, they can have good surprises occasionally…”

It was a week before his next rotation. Scott would be back home in about three days, which allowed the second born to actually have a few moments with his only older brother. He was looking forward to it just as much as Scott was. Right now, though, he had to make sure he got the right angle.

Right as he did, he heard the soft pitter-patter of footsteps come up the ladder, and when he turned around, he was met with a bundle of freckles, “Oh, hey Alan.”

Hi, Johnny, the kid squirmed out, Is it okay if I sit next to you?

At first, a list of things wanted to fill John’s head. You look dead on your feet, you should be asleep, you have a lot going on this week so why are you wasting sleep? but instead of any of those filling the void that was his brain, John simply nodded, “Yeah, sure, come pop a squat, Sprout.”

John looked away right before he could watch Alan’s nose wrinkle in displeasure. Despite the usage of the nickname (that Alan secretly liked, don’t think you could pull that wool over our eyes, little bro), the kid still toddled over and flopped himself down right next to his older brother. Sighing, the kid leaned his head on John’s arm and absentmindedly stared out into space, both figuratively and literally. Satisfied his brother was comfy, John went back to his current objective.

As John examined the night sky, he also carefully looked over Alan out of the corner of his eye. Every bruise that John could see was finally dulling out into that familiar greyish-yellow as bruises do, and the sight was enough to calm any negative emotion being created from the reminder. John refocused on his telescope to help as well.

The kid had been through one hell of a week, bullies being their typical selves. Every Tracy outside of Scott and Gordon had their fair share of their own experiences with nasty people, and it wasn’t even the first time they’ve left their special kind of blue-and-black marks, but seeing it on Alan was… worse, somehow. Virgil had unsavory anonymous notes at ‘best’, and John knew first hand that their hits bruised more than just physical skin. So to see Alan get the same treatment and not say anything...

John was starting to understand why his older brother greyed so easily.

Speaking of which, Scott was pretty peeved at the idea of not being there for Alan. Because of this, John made sure to be the sole one to call him and inform him of the awful news while the older brother was out at his designated Air Force base. John wanted to see with his own two eyes that Scott wouldn’t do anything rash and made himself liable to be put on some kind of list.

You would think he wouldn’t be that stupid, but the Tracys are known for breaking expectations over their sweet, sweet kneecaps.

(“Scott, you’re not going to steal an Air Force jet just to come and beat up some dumb kids.”

“Watch me.”

“They’re only a year older than Alan.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose, “Listen, we already scarred them enough as it is, let alone their expulsions. Grandma’s threats to the adults were liable for a government-mandated therapist, Virgil just being there had them running for the hills, the computer I was sporting sent chills down their spines and throughout the hallways, and that’s not even to mention Gordon’s threats to the kids themselves. Seriously, where would a 15-year-old even get the tools to do that?”

Scott visibly relaxed at John’s point, but he still sat a little taut, not fully accepting the idea of people being cruel enough to hurt a literal ray of sunshine, “Fine, fine, I still want to talk to the kid over a call at some point. He was the one who dealt with those idiots.”

John’s shoulders deflated, “Yeah, you got me there. He’ll be back with Virgil and Gordon soon enough, you can see him then.”

Scott smiled in a way that washed away the greys in his hair, if only for a moment, “Awesome, I--”

John wasn’t completely done, “But I’m going to be with Alan while you talk to him. I don’t trust you to not be in search-and-destroy mode, and the last thing Alan needs is an angry you with no buffer. Besides, I’m pretty sure we have the same questions. I can play the angsty-Scott translator tonight. Usual fee, 10 bucks each word.”

The groan that managed to fill the whole house despite the tiny speakers was one John would never forget.)

Too lost in thought, John didn’t catch Alan’s movements at first. Leaning away from his telescope, John focused on Alan, “Sorry, Allie, did you say something?”

The child simply shrugged and smushed his chubby cheeks against John’s side, shaking his head, followed by his hands, I just wanted to see what you were doing.

Ah, that made sense. Alan had been continuously signing for the past year because of the obvious, so John rolled with the punches. It was always funny when they talked about these years in the future. Alan talked, Alan said, Alan brought up: it was always metaphorical, and nobody could believe them when they said Alan was fluent in ASL, let alone because he could actually go half a day without talking.

It was ironic because even with no words, Alan still managed to be the loudest thing on the planet. His hands always screamed with excitement whenever he felt like ‘talking’, and no brother ever felt like shutting him up. Especially when it was so easy for Alan to simply not shake his hands to hide the fact that he was in trouble--

Right, don’t go there. John shook his head to bring himself out of his thoughts and replied to the non-verbal admission, “Just looking at the stars. Recording their coordinates and whatnot.”

A small gasp had John jerking immediately away from his scope to see Alan suddenly very worried, maybe even fearful, But won’t you lose your eyes?!

Aha, what? “Allie, you’re going to have to give me more than that.”

John almost didn’t catch what Alan was trying to explain with the way he frantically shook his hands even faster than before, Mrs. Gatsen explained to us that the sun was a star too, but we’re not allowed to look at it for too long because it’ll steal our eyes! I don’t want you to lose your eyes, Johnny!

Ohoho, the part of John’s brain that was all about the smartsy stuff was gearing up to have a full-blown seminar of sorts, but the way the kid seemed so sincere in his worry, in his fear, John felt partially bad for giggling instead, “Oh, Allie, no. Here,” John was activating his inner Virgil and Scott with the way he grabbed the youngster and placed him in his lap, “Yes, the sun is a star, but there are many kinds of stars. Most of which don’t hurt your eyes. Take a look.”

Alan gave one last sentimental look at John, who nodded again just to reassure the blonde before the boy gulped and put his eye against the tool like Johnny did. This time, the gasp that came from him was more magical, more child-like, as it always should be. John watched on as the kid became stuck to his telescope like glue.

Suddenly, Alan leaned back into John, somewhat knocking the wind out of him. Honestly, now that he was thinking about it, John realized he was pushing it by letting Alan sit next to him in terms of his personal comfort zone. He loved Allie just as much as the rest of the family, but letting them in, letting them get close, was veering dangerously close to that specific ‘hug’ territory like he and his parents had.

Before John could explain that in a child-friendly way, and hopefully in a way where the too-smart-for-his-own-good kid couldn’t pick up on the hidden message, Alan looked him directly in the eyes and confidently signed his wants, Can we do this more often? Can we?

Just like that, John’s mind blanked. Alan wanted to do something with him. Not swim with Gordon, not music with Virgil, not do, well, anything with Scott, Allie found something that he would like to do with John.

Huh, interesting, “Yeah, sure. If we can’t do it in the next week, then the first thing we’ll do when I come down is stargaze, because that’s what it’s called: stargazing.”

Alan started gripping his arm tighter and leaned more into his chest, nodding vigorously at the news and looking back to the sky with newfound wonder. Letting Alan be, abruptly forgetting his grievances with things like touch, John went back to his telescope. After another minute or so, John reached a point where he needed both sides of his body, except it looked like one of them was going to be kept immobile unless the spaceman said something to Alan.

John tried doing just that, just without looking away from his device, “Hey, Allie, I don’t mind the sitting-in-my-lap and stuff, but I do need my arm back to--”

Snoring.

Oh.

Jerking his head to physically look at his sibling, John found Alan passed out and squeezing his arm like a freckled koala bear. The ginger flinched a little bit at the drool dripping onto his sleeve, but the way Allie melted into him made him-- actually, he was very suddenly aware that this whole night he hadn’t really been thinking at all, and that thought made him continue to stare mindlessly at the dozing brother.

He always thought about, well, everything. What he was going to say, what he planned to do tomorrow, about what the future held now that they were down their second and last parent. If he didn’t think about it beforehand, he rarely did it. He had to make sure he went through all of his options before haphazardly jumping into the pits of hell.

Yet the way his younger brother looked at him like he was the world himself tonight made John throw all of his training to be as cautious as possible out the window in a need to comfort and care for the small thing in front of him.

It was shocking to his mind, yet he didn’t resent just being able to do without worrying too much. Was this how smother complexes started? Did he ever drool on Scott’s arm? Still staring at Alan, John’s mind continued to be robotic as he simply let his younger brother be and went back to his telescope. Alan had been needing to get a little more sleep lately anyway.

Yeah, it was fine. He could figure out how to follow up on his words later. It wouldn’t be that hard to figure out a way to squeeze Alan into some of his already-planned stargazing nights while making sure the kid still got sleep. Also, John’s used telescopes wearing a cast and sling before, he might prefer two arms, but he has been okay with only one.

If Grandma yelled at John for spending too much time on the roof again, well, she would have to get over it. Alan got an extra hour of sleep and that was all that mattered.

EOS watched as John finished the story. Once he was done, he continued to be quiet while grinning at nothing. All he was doing was simply staring at the floor… It was slightly creepy, and EOS cleared her nonexistent throat, “Huh, I didn’t realize he got a lot of his interests from you. Maybe… maybe you could show me why he did. He can too. More perspectives always get more data.”

John blinked and was immediately taken out of his trance. He brought his hand to his mouth and cleared his throat, “Yeah, he-- wait, what?”

EOS sighed. This is another reason why she snapped him out of it; his inability to listen to someone right in front of him. She simplified her words, “If Alan comes back, can you two take me stargazing? I don’t think I’ve ever seen what the stars look like down there, or, at least, I never looked at them long enough to understand what you all find to be so fascinating about them.”

John blinked a few more times with his mouth slightly gaped. He looked around nervously before bringing his turquoise eyes to look EOS directly in the middle of her camera, “Yeah, sure, EOS. When Alan gets back, that’s the first thing we’ll do.”

EOS didn’t mention anything about the correction of if to when, “Thank you, John, I would like that very much.”

John nodded and floated back to his tech, “Of course. Now then, we’ve got work to do. I’ve been meaning to stargaze recently anyway.”

He still had one more day up here.

And a baby brother who needed saving.

How hard could it be?

---

Very.

Growling in frustration, he thumped his fist against the wall next to him rather harshly.

Not enough to leave any kind of mark or dent, but enough for him to focus on the tiny amount of pain it gave him. He vaguely heard EOS’s lens flare at the sudden noise, but he was a little too focused on why he felt the need to hit his girl.

It was the end of the last day, and he didn’t make it any further like he thought he would.

Some bleak part of his mind was hoped, prayed that his girl would have the tools to find their baby brother. He was willing to bend her entire satellite to be able to reach the far ends of the galaxy if he had to, but even he had to concede that she wasn’t enough. The Hood wasn’t dumb, unfortunately, and he wasn’t going to go easy on them. That is if he was even going “to go” on them to start with.

While it wasn’t the first time he failed spectacularly, this failure certainly hurt the worst.

Half of him wanted to curl up into a ball and forget everything for a moment (or maybe forever), but the other half won out in terms of what his body contorted into. Instead of curling up like a prickly hedgehog, he leaned backward to be floating with his back to the ground and his face to the ceiling with his face in his hands. Meanwhile, EOS silently gazed from her camera in the corner. Watching John struggle this way was… new, and it twisted her wires in a way she wasn’t sure she could describe.

EOS watched him mumble something. Huh, peculiar as ever. Adjusting her camera, she tried small talk, “What was that, John?”

Still mumbles, but more intelligible, “... I need to drop the ‘s’.”

A flicker of yellow, nothing but pure confusion for once in her robotic life, “The ‘s’ of what?”

Suddenly, the astronaut was standing (well, floating) upright with a look of disdain, but EOS could see that it wasn’t meant for her, “Of ‘she’. It’s not ‘Five’s fault, God, it never is, but maybe… maybe it’s mine.”

All of her programs should allow her to say something. Anything, sugarcoated or not, would be beneficial to this seemingly one-sided conversation, but this was the moment she learned that humans could be faster than computers since John steamrolled right to the point without hesitation, “He wasn’t good enough sounds better. Nothing I’m doing is getting any results. I gave my family false hope that I would find something and now I have to go to them and essentially break them. They were already barely holding it together as it was, but when the “smart one” in their family says there’s nothing he can do…”

She found herself going against the logical part of her program-- because despite the idiot John Tracy could be, when he made an argument that had any kind of evidence you never could go against it-- the first time in, well, ever, in an attempt to comfort her partner, “John… I think you’re grasping at straws here.”

He looked up from the floor, and EOS had to shrink her lens at the sight of unshed tears in his eyes, “Who was the one that called him?! Me! He was standing there only a few rooms over, probably terrified out of his mind, and I didn’t know. I let him slip between our fingers because I was so caught up in the moment and I hate myself for it.”

EOS found herself speechless for once, and the few droplets of tears that floated in front of John’s face didn’t help. She had been trying her best recently, especially recently, to understand the fluctuations of human emotion, and she was pretty sure she had decent tabs on at least John nowadays, but this was something unexpected, a thing her programming never really liked to deal with. It involved lots of new calculations and new sims, why, it made things seconds longer when they didn’t have the time to deal with it!

Her electronic voice box made a noise with the intent to say something, as she thought she finally had the time to deal with it, but just her luck, more unexpected things made her reapproach the issue at hand, “John, look out! The Chaos Crew!”

Blinking out of his self-deprecation train, John was uncharacteristically panicking, “What, where?” After doing a full 180, John eventually saw one of his comm radios with the familiar pink symbol floating above it.

John’s pupils shrunk and his eyebrows tilted downward in that unfamiliar emotion: anger.

Fuck this.

The mood change was as fast as the speed of lightning. John practically flung himself to the communication device on something akin to a warpath. No longer regretful or depressed, John was filled to the brim with fury at the sight of one of the men that was a constant thorn in the Tracy family’s side, “What the hell are you doing here? How the hell did you--”

“Wait wait wait!” Fuse pleaded, making John momentarily pause enough to listen, “I’m not good at this like my sister is, so this connection is going to drop soon. I need you to reopen the line yourself so I can explain what I’m here for! Trust me, I swear I’m not--”

Zip.

Blinking at the lack of noise, John slowly turned his head to look at his A.I. to get her opinion on the matter. It wasn’t a positive one, that’s for sure. Her dots were bright red, and for the first time in a while, he found himself flinching at the sight and sound of her, “It wouldn’t take much of me to get rid of the nuisance, you know.”

Taking a few deep breaths, John shook his head, “No, EOS, give me a sec. Don’t send him careening into space.”

Yet.

With shaky hands, John did as Fuse begged and found the comm line the guy haphazardly threw together. Right as Fuse jumped at the sight of one of the Tracys actually hearing him out, John’s voice spoke coldly, “You have five minutes. Go.”

Fuse gulped, “W-Well, I suppose the first thing to do would be to apologize. I’ve caused a lot of messes for you and your family-- heh, ‘messes’ probably doesn’t even come close to explaining what I did-- and I realize that now, so I want to--”

Ah, that tactic. The one where they try so desperately to seem like they were repentant. John wasn’t familiar with it, but Scott sure was. Shady business owners trying to shy away from their consequences made the eldest very aware of how slimy those in power could be. Scott complained about it a lot, so John made sure to always remember it just in case he ever ran into it himself.

Preplanning wins again in the Tracy household. You should listen to John’s advice more, Gordon, “Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” John muttered mostly to himself and moved in a way that signified something was going to happen.

Fuse sputtered and stopped immediately. Crap, he was going about this wrong. These were all things he was suddenly genuine about, he really was, but the Tracys didn’t want useless apologies at the moment, and he understood that. Hopefully, he didn’t understand it too late. Right before John could do anything to him or give any kind of command to his satellite, Fuse blurted the information he should’ve said the first place, “I know where he is!”

John felt like the Earth flew right off its axis.

Everything froze, including EOS. His hand was out in front of him for some reason, probably subconsciously reaching for some kind of button, as he absentmindedly listened to the whirl of ‘Five and his brain fully processed what Fuse was promising, “... What?”

John was keenly aware that sounding so weak, so hopeful, was something that Fuse could spinelessly abuse if the man wanted to, but John had a good lie detector. The words that fumbled out of half The Chaos Crew’s mouth were sounding good, great, and John could tell that he wasn’t bullshitting anything, “I know where he’s keeping your bro. I mean… shit, what The Hood did wasn’t right, maybe it never was, but I know this specifically is--” a break in his speech in an attempt to words things better. Fuse failed, “Bad. I just…”

John’s head involuntarily tilted at the way Fuse trailed off. For once in his life, John was at a loss. This was highly uncharacteristic from what John had seen of The Chaos Crew, and the astronaut was so flabbergasted he couldn’t even begin to come up with any possible ulterior motive behind Fuse’s actions at the moment.

Suddenly, Fuse looked back up with big eyes, almost reminding John of Alan a little bit. Not in the obvious ways, because Fuse was on the verge of seven feet tall and built like a truck whereas Alan was the teeniest thing on the planet, but… John could see similar traits of innocence in them. The eyes of someone desperately clinging onto the last few shreds of hope they had, but still ready to do what's right because of it. Because even if the light at the end of the tunnel was small it was still worth fighting for.

Fuse, seeing that John wasn’t going to say anything, bit the bullet, “I don’t know, call it selfish, call it smart, but if The Hood is willing to do something like this to someone so young, I… I don’t want to be apart of it. I can’t give any information about my sister, I’m no snitch, but I want out, even if it means spending the rest of my days in a GDF cell.”

John was suddenly aware of a burning question, “Wait, how old are you, Fuse?”

A tired sigh, aging Fuse to something that was probably three times what he was going to say, “I turn 20 in two weeks.”

John sharply inhaled, “Jesus, I… I didn’t realize you were that young.”

A lot of things made sense quickly and abruptly like they always do for the ginger.

If The Hood was willing to do this to someone so young, that didn’t stop him from doing this to someone like Fuse. The logical conclusion the now ‘ex-villain’ made probably danced the wildest jig in his head, and before anyone could clap their hands, he got as far away as possible. John wouldn’t be surprised if The Hood made idle threats for not following orders or for “being stupid”, so Fuse had every right to feel threatened.

Jeez, he was probably terrified at the implication. A dark, buried part of John selfishly thought good, it sucks you had to learn the hard way, but now you see why we all hate him, but the first thing that came to his mind was something unexpected yet expected all the same.

John was reminded of Alan again.

Except Alan had four older brothers to run to when the monsters got too big or too frightening.

…

Scott was going to kill him, “Park her over on the left and come in. We’ve got a lot to talk about. Bring inside whatever you think will help.”

EOS’s shrill John! ringed throughout the room, yet it was overruled swiftly. Fuse’s mouth was wide open, “For real?”

John couldn’t tell if he was losing the knots in his stomach or forming completely new ones, “Yes. Don’t do anything funny, though. I have eyes everywhere.”

Fuse gulped again, yet he was very business-like with his next words, “Of course.”

The line cut a millisecond before John wanted it to. John knew exactly why, “Listen, EOS--”

EOS was suddenly in his face, and it spoke miles at how far she’s come that she wasn’t blaring any alarms in anger, “No, you listen, John Tracy. I cannot believe the level of ignorance you are displaying!”

Gordon always joked about her being his daughter, but right now, John’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance at the feeling of being scolded by an overbearing mother, “I get this may seem like I’ve lost it--” jokes on EOS, who says he hasn’t at this point? “Listen, there’s nothing else left to go off of, and I know this makes me look like a crazy man desperate for information that might not even be there, but--”

“No buts!” EOS shrieked, “You told me that if you followed a sentence with a “but” that what you were about to say shouldn’t even be considered an option! What is making you throw all of my training out the window?!”

John’s mouth became very dry. This conversation was taking a very different turn, “Wait, EOS, why is this all about you suddenly--”

John was starting to regret giving her more mobility at the sight of her jamming her camera directly in his face even more, “It’s not just about me! This affects you too! You said you always based your decisions on the here-and-now, so I should too, so why am I the only one doing so?! You’ve seen what he’s capable of!”

John’s mind tended to be made of gears, and all of them began spinning at the same time. Dammit, he didn’t pick up on this because he didn’t even consider it a factor: EOS being scared. Hell, it wasn't even considered because the last time he remembered her being this scared was when she thought he was a threat during the first time they met (was it really that long ago?). She was scared that Fuse was going to hurt John like he hurt the rest of the astronaut’s family. Like he hurt Gordon.

The only difference is that nobody could get to John like they did Gordon, so that left the ginger at an impasse if the small chance that Fuse was here to hurt him came true.

John found it very hard to breathe all of a sudden. Closing his eyes and struggling to get enough air in, he realized a fundamental problem. EOS was based on data and things that have been recorded, and so far, the only things recorded about Fuse was that he was hellbent on hurting the Tracy family, a family that John was apart of.

She didn’t know any other way to feel about the guy, she didn’t have any other example.

John would love to be that way too, honestly, to just focus on the data. Numbers never tended to be wrong, and the idea of being a simple number-crunching bot would make life a shit-ton easier, but he can’t. He’s human. One that’s very much willing to go against the numbers and probabilities if it meant helping his family.

A rarity for John, to follow his gut and nothing else, but at the end of the day, he was a Tracy, and following his gut was as familiar to him as it was to name all of the immediate constellations in the summer’s nighttime sky, “EOS, I know it’ll be hard to believe me, hell, I’m having trouble believing myself, but Fuse isn’t here to hurt me. The here-and-now is different for reasons I don’t have enough time to properly explain, okay? If there’s anything to believe, believe in the trust you have in me to make the right decision like I always do.”

EOS made no noise, not even a flicker of her lens. He expected her usual sass, something along the lines of, Who says I trust you, moron? but what he got punched away what little air he managed to collect, “... Do you promise?”

That was the million-dollar question. Of course, he couldn’t. He didn’t like making promises after the age of 12. Too many probabilities, too many what-ifs, made promises somewhat of a theoretical impossibility. But just like that night on the roof with Alan, John was able to not think, “I promise, EOS. You wanted to go stargazing with me and Alan, right? Fuse might be able to let us do that again.”

‘Family’ was a Wild Card. Nothing was possible, yet everything was at the same time when it came down to it. ‘Family’ was what made Scott go from day to day without keeling over. ‘Family’ was what got Virgil to sleep at night when he just couldn’t by himself. ‘Family’ was how Gordon managed to keep smiling and joking despite everything in the world trying to make him stop. Hell, ‘Family’ was how their father kicked the word impossible right in the groin and live.

‘Family’ might have been why Alan was stuck in such a shitty situation, but it was also the reason the kid was willing and able to go that far in the first place. He learned that selflessness from his ‘Family’, after all.

John was intent to use that fact to the fullest.

EOS’s lights blinked in contemplation before she quietly spoke once more, “Do I have permission to shock him if he makes even the slightest suspicious movement?”

John rolled his eyes yet grinned all the same, “Sure, only just a little voltage, though. Right in the ass. Would be a nice pick-me-up after all of this.”

Well, despite the year they’ve had, John wasn’t aware EOS could snort. Another sign things might be going right for once.

The door swwwshed open and Fuse floated into where the two hyper-intelligent beings were hanging about and got straight to the point, “Thank you. I hope… I hope I don’t let you down.”

John found himself light as air, and it wasn’t just the zero-gravity this time, “Sounds good. Let’s get cracking.”

While the first thing he did back on Earth was scare his father and his immediate younger brother shitless, the way they and the rest of the family lit up at the plan he and Fuse came up with (after making sure nobody killed the dude, which was surprisingly more difficult than expected, and boy was it expected) made it all worth it.

Well, maybe the sight of Fuse occasionally jumping and yelping at a strange pinch in his bottom with no known cause was worth it too. John wouldn’t tell his brothers that, though, he was the responsible one, remember?

You always made me look at things differently, EOS. Thank you.

[roseyserpents]

Back To You

Pairing: Scott Reed x reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, fighting, alcohol

Characters: Scott Reed, Sheri Holland, Montgomery De La Cruz, Bryce Walker, Zach Dempsey

Word count: 1,757

Summary: You and Scott take a break but you find yourself wanting him back

A/N: this is based off the song Back To You by Selena Gomez! This is also the first 13rw fic and fic on this account I'm posting!

Took you like a shot

Thought I could chase you with a cold evening

Let a couple years water down how I feel about you

It was bad. Sure, throughout your year and a half relationship you'd had fights with Scott, but none had been this bad or ended this messy. He'd gotten mad at you for tutoring Bryce and Zach when they'd asked for your help because you were in AP classes, and you'd countered with your anger about him being gone to much and ditching you in the recent month. They were small problems but that was all that took for the stress that'd been building up to boil over. This put to much strain on your relationship so you decided to take a break. The week following the breakup and still more after you'd spent at parties getting drunk to keep your mind off of your feelings even though you knew it wasn't good for you. You were mad. You were so mad at Scott for everything he'd done to you and for making you cry over him.

And every time we talk

Every single word builds up to this moment

And I gotta convince myself I don't want it

Even though I do 

"Y/n!" An all to familiar voice calls out from the other end of the hall. You quickly close your locker ignoring the fact you'd left your folder for your next class and try to get away from the situation you'd been avoiding. But, against your attempt to run, someones hand lands on your upper arm, gently turning you to face them as you let out a heavy sigh. Scott stands in front of you, your heart dropping to your feet as you catch his eyes for the first time in more than a month.

"Hey," He breathes with a faint small as if he'd forgotten what he was going to say. "I was wondering if you'd want to go to Monet's to, um, catch up sometime?"

You wanted to say yes. Your heart yearned for his touch again, to spend time with him and see the very smile he had plastered on his face now everyday. But your brain was telling you that he'd hurt you, so what's to stop him from doing it again if you went back to him?

"No." Your brain answers despite your heart trying to yell over it. Before you can think you walk away with a small strut in your step towards you next class leaving a hurt Scott behind as other students move around him like water around a stone.

We never got it right

Playing and replaying old conversations

Overthinking every word and I hate it

'Cause it's not me

You and Scott lie on the hood of his car next to the lake, watching the waves gently lapping up onto shore with milkshakes in your hands.

"Do you love me?" You ask suddenly, turning to look at the blonde. He suddenly coughs, choking on the milkshake in his mouth as he sits up and spits it into the grass. You sit up, supporting your weight with your hand as he turns back to you.

"What?" He asks after recovering, meeting your amused gaze.

"Do you love me?" You repeat, more nervousness in your words than the first time.

A smile spreads on Scott's face as he leans closer to you. "I," He says, pecking the end of your nose. "Love," He places a kiss to your cheek. "You." Finally his lips land on yours before he pulls away, still leaning over you with the goofy grin you'd grown to love-

"It's not my fault I wanted to be around someone after you keep skipping out on our dates!" You yell at Scott, a finger jabbing at his chest.

"You could've gone to Sheri or Chloe!" Scott counters, looming over you using his height as an advantage. "You didn't need to go to my friends!"

"Well your friends are a lot better at being around than you are!" Your face was turning red and your throat going scratchy from yelling so much. You were surprised nobody had come over asking if someone was being murdered.

"I'm your boyfriend! Not Bryce and Zach!"

"They'd probably make a better boyfriend than you are!" The second the words left your mouth you couldn't believe them, and apparently neither could Scott because his face falls and it's silent for a moment, both of you trying to process your next actions.

"Fine. If you'd rather be with one of them than me, go ahead." He says in a normal volume but hurt, anger, and venom laced deep in each syllable. "We need to take a break." He grabs his jacket off of your couch and walks towards your door, emotions radiating off of him as you follow him out of your house.

"Good!" You yell from your doorway as he walks towards his car. "I don't need you or your fucking relationship!" With that you slam the door shut before turning and sliding down it. The emotions spill over inside of you as tears streak your face and you curl up against the door, crying into your knees for the rest of the night.

"Y/n?" Sheri asks, pulling you out of your own head.

"Huh?" You reply, pulling your hand away from your face to face her.

"I said, are you okay? You look... Out of it." She asks, concern plastered on her face.

No. "Yeah I'm good, just didn't get a lot of sleep." You lie.

And what's the point in hiding?

Everybody knows we got unfinished business

And I'll regret it if I didn't say

This isn't what it could be

"Sure." She says, sitting down next to you. "Tell me what's up. Is this about Scott?"

You sigh, giving a nod before resting your chin on your desk.

"Practically the whole school knows about your break." She continues, putting air quotes around the word "break". You wanted to tell her how much you missed him, how much you wanted him back or to atleast heal things, but you don't.

"I'm just mad at him. I can't handle seeing him." You lie again. You don't know why you weren't confiding in Sheri for once. You knew this situation could be different, but part of your heart and part of your brain wouldn't let you so easily go back to Scott.

She gives you a look as if she could see right through your lie but walks away to her seat across the room leaving you back to your thoughts. How could you say that to him? How could you tell the person you loved and needed the most that you didn't need them? You hated that he had this effect on you now, turning you into a person you didn't know. He'd said it, you needed a break. He agreed it wasn't working.

You needed to find something to get him off your mind - or someone.

I wanna hold you when I'm not supposed to

When I'm lying close to someone else

You're stuck in my head and I can't get you out of it

You'd gone to one of Bryce's parties the following night, gotten drunk out of your mind, and woken up around four A.M. in a bed with Montgomery De La Cruz passed out next to you.

A groan falls from your lips as you stand up, wrapping the sheet from the bed around yourself as you slowly wipe a hand across your face. You pull his hand off of your waist before sitting up, Montgomery stirring by you but not waking up.

You found yourself wanting it to be Scott lying next to you and not someone you hardly knew. You wanted to wake up in his arms again instead of with a hangover from trying to forget him. But, no matter what you did he was stuck in your head. He kept coming up again and again no matter how much you didn't want him too.

-

If I could do it all again

I know I'd go back to you

You'd made a decision that Sunday night. You knew you could turn everything around, you just needed the confidence to do so. It'd taken a lot of time for you to bring yourself to your decision, but you couldn't push down the need to go back to Scott anymore.

-

"Hey, Scott!" You yell out as soon as you set foot into school, finding him at his locker before he could run away.

He closes his locker before tightening his jaw and turning to you. "What." He says, more of a statement than a question.

What was there wasn't sure

But I'd go back to you

I know I'd go back to you

"I'm sorry. For everything." You sigh, looking to your feet. "We ended things badly. The last month before the fight was bad and nothing seemed sure about it. But, I miss you. I know I pushed you away before but I shouldn't have."

Scotts expression softens slightly as he looks at you with questioning eyes.

You can break my heart in two

But when it heals, it beats for you

I know it's forward, but it's true

"And I'm not gonna lie, what you said hurt me, it broke my heart. But when I got over it I found myself wanting to be around you again. I know that sounds stupid and bold or whatever, but it's the truth." You continue. "It's fine if you just wanna be friends or acquaintances, but I need you in my life again it's been so horr-"

"Y/n." Scott cuts you off. You look up and his scowl from before has been replaced by his smile that lights up the entire room. "I would love to get back together with you." As he talks he'd slowly stepped closer to you, his hands going to your waist. You grin as you snake your arms around his neck pulling you both closer to each other.

"I'm sorry for being such an idiot." You sigh, your hands laced in the hair at the nape of his neck.

"You might be an idiot, but you're my idiot." Scott says before leaning down, connecting his lips with yours. Electricity sparks as warmth spreads through you, all the negative thoughts from the last two months disappear and are replaced with one one simple thought:

You were back with Scott and that was all that mattered.

[lovemesomerafael]

Destroying The Planet To Save It   Chapter 16:  Subtle Is For Amateurs

                             Chapters 1-15          Read It On AO3

Sometime during the afternoon, several additional team members arrived at Stark Tower.  The whole team hadn’t assembled, however. Thor, for one, was completely occupied fighting for the survival of Asgard.  He had been briefly interested in the fact that the enemy appeared to be able to control weather, asking with affronted ire, “Who dares to usurp my throne as God of Thunder!”, only to instantly deflate and lose interest when he learned that the phenomena weren’t natural.  Dr. Strange hadn’t even taken Steve’s call, instead assigning a functionary to apologize profusely (and to lie entirely unconvincingly), saying that Dr. Strange was currently off-world.   Nobody, including Tony, currently knew where Rhodey was.  And for whatever reason, Tony wouldn’t even hear of calling on Peter Parker.  Steve wasn’t entirely disappointed; that kid really needed to learn to shut up during a fight.  

Bucky wasn’t surprised to see Clint Barton come bounding into the training room with Wanda Maximoff walking sedately behind him.

“Barnes, quit aiming that rubber gun at her.  I want to introduce Joss to Wanda.”

Bucky was surprised, as always, by how young Wanda was.  Given her abilities and accomplishments, he didn’t really think of her as a kid, but that’s what she was.  This time, though, she seemed to have a little more… self-assurance than she’d had the last time Bucky had seen her.  Her time away from the team, alone with Vision, was apparently good for her.

“You know this idiot,” Clint said, pulling Wanda past Bucky as she breathed a hurried, “Hi” to him.

“This is Joss.  This is who I wanted you to meet.  Well, actually, I wanted her to meet you.  She’s just learning to use her ability.”

Wanda smiled at Joss.  “He says you’re telekinetic?”

Joss flushed a little, clearly uncomfortable. “Nothing like you.  I’m just a – I can move stuff, that’s it.  And only what I’d be able to move physically.  I hear you throw trucks.”

“Only when necessary,” Wanda chuckled.  

“Actually, Joss can do more than just move stuff,” Bucky added.  “You guys wanna see something?”

Clint and Wanda stepped together, curiosity evident in their expressions.  

Bucky took a stance a few feet from them, while Joss walked about ten feet across the room, then turned to face him.  He held the rubber AR-15 up, as though aiming it at her.  For a few moments, nothing happened.  Then, suddenly, the weapon twisted itself out of Bucky’s grip and flew to Joss, who caught it.  

“Awesome!”  Clint cried.

“He was barely holding it,” Joss said, returning to the group.  “We’re still working on that move.”

Bucky clapped Joss on the shoulder.  “But we’ll get there.”

Seemingly apropos of nothing, Joss looked at Wanda and said, “I can’t aim.”

“I remember that,” Wanda responded, apparently understanding completely.  “There’s a trick to it.”  

Joss smiled, encouraged, and Wanda turned to Bucky and Clint.  “How about you guys give us some time to get to know each other?”

Bucky and Clint looked at one another, surprised and a little disappointed, but didn’t argue.  Shuffling out of the gym, they climbed the stairs to the residences side by side.

“Looks like you guys made some good progress today.”

“Yeah, more than I would’ve guessed,” Bucky agreed. “She’s a good student, which surprises me.   I kinda expected her to fight me.  She really hates being a mutant.”

“Can’t say I blame her.  Lotta assholes out there.”

Bucky sighed in response, opening the door from the stairway to the elevator lobby for Clint.

“So, I got some weird vibes from you two this morning.  Something happen?”

“Not like what happened with you and Natasha,” Bucky responded, smirking.

“Who says anything happened with me and Tasha?”

“Yeah, right.”

Clint’s smile lit his whole body.  “I’m in love, bro.”

“That ain’t new.”

“No, but she wants to give it a real try. She’s ready now, and it’s…”  Clint could only smile more widely (a little idiotically, Bucky thought, but he let it go), and make a vague gesture that ended with his hand over his heart.  

“Happy for you, dude.  Both of you.  Maybe tell her to watch it with the teeth, if you’re trying to be subtle about it,” Bucky grinned, pointing to a large bruise with a definite bite mark in it where Clint’s neck and shoulder met.  

“Fuck that,” Clint laughed.  “Subtle is for amateurs.”

Bucky passed through the lounge area and into the kitchen.  He briefly greeted Scott Lang, who was standing hunched over in the open doors of the large refrigerator, peering into the back.  When it became clear he wasn’t going to move, Bucky reached around him for a bottle of water.  He held it up to Clint, who nodded from where he’d sprawled out on a couch.

Bucky grabbed another bottle and, re-crossing the room, handed it to Clint.  “Better hydrate,” he said.  “Between you and Natasha, I’m thinkin’ we’re not talking tame or infrequent.”

“You’d be right about that,” Clint answered, toasting Bucky cockily with the bottle before taking a drink.  “But you didn’t answer my question.  What’s up with you and Joss?”

Bucky frowned.  “She hates me.”

“Yeah, that’s obvious from the way she can’t take her eyes off you.”

“Whatever.  Not gonna happen, so…”

“I don’t get it.  And if you’re not gonna go for it with her, then…”

“Do you have any idea how many ways Natasha knows to kill you?”

“Hah!  You’re jealous.  So spill. Dr. Hawkeye is in.  Vat seems to be ze problem?”  He asked, with the worst attempt at a German accent ever.

“Ze problem is that we’re – you know, the team – we’re in magazines and shit.  And she says all of this,” he gestured around, “is, and I’m quoting here, above her pay grade.”

A look of genuine concern came over Clint’s handsome features.  “Yeah. I can see that.”

“I don’t give a fuck about any of that stuff, you know that.”

“’Course I do.  But look at it from her perspective.  What if you were still Bucky from Brooklyn, and you got a shot with some movie babe?  They had movies back then, didn’t they?  Electricity? Light?”

“Fuck you,” Bucky grinned.

“Well?  You’re such a cocky fucker, maybe it wouldn’t be a problem for you.  But, I mean, everything we do is news of one kind of another.  Either we’re savin’ the world, or blowing shit up, or takin’ out some nest of bad guys. And you?  You’re so disgustingly handsome, you’re news when you fucking breathe. You could have hot and cold running babes, if you wanted.  I never seen you take advantage of that, but you could.  A lot of normal people are intimidated by all that.  We’re…  You’re… a lot, dude.”

“She hangs out with the damn President!  You’re tellin’ me he’s not news?”

“He’s her job.  You’re talking about her life. Her heart.  Whole different thing, man.”

“Well, since I seem to be stuck with you assholes, and this face, I guess that’s that.”

“Not necessarily.  Give her time.  She’s only been around this shit for, what, like a week?”

Bucky grunted, slouched in the big, soft chair. For a while, they drank their water in silence before Scott, empty-handed despite his extended fridge recon, came and sat with them.  After that, conversation turned to other topics, although Bucky was still mulling over what Clint had said.

*****

Steve spent much of the day stewing.  There simply wasn’t much for him to do when the work was all in the hands of those more competent to perform it.  Once there was an enemy, a force to stop, Steve would be in his element.  But right now, there was little he could do.  

With that thought came a familiar, immense, monstrous weight.  Steve took a huge breath through his nose and let it out as slowly and steadily as he possibly could.  Sometimes that helped.  Not today. He glanced across the table at Sharon, who was scowling at a series of printouts, translations of the notes Clint and Natasha had found in the underground bunker in Washington, D.C. Her beautiful face, usually so serenely confident and sunny, now looked as troubled and exhausted as he felt.  

Steve stood, using every ounce of energy he could to appear nonchalant as he scooted his chair back from the table and strode from the conference room.  He tried to be quiet as he pushed open the door to the stairwell, then set off to run the ten floors to the roof.  

Exercise usually soothed him, gave him a focus and an outlet for whatever he happened to be feeling.   In fact, that morning, he’d channeled quite a bit of his anxiety over whatever Jarman Arias – or whoever – was up to, into a punishing upper-body workout with weights, followed by an hour with the punching bag.  Well, punching bags.  He’d gone through two.  Even Bucky had laughingly commented that he was unusually enthusiastic about their sparring.  When Steve had told him why, Bucky had simply shrugged, grinned, and retaken his defensive stance.

“Then bring it, punk.  You can take it out on me.  Just don’t expect me to go easy on you, either.”  

When he arrived on the roof, Steve was barely breathing hard, and felt only the slightest dampness at his hairline. Still, the fresh air, and the wind this high up above the city, were refreshing.  He stretched his arms as far over his head as he could, face up toward the sun, breathing in the outdoor air.  The roar of the city was soothing in a way he felt no need to explain to himself.

He put his hands on the railing surrounding the roof and looked out over Manhattan.  So many people.  So many people in the boroughs hidden from sight in the hazy air obscuring the horizon. So many people in other cities, across the country, across the oceans, around the globe.  And he was responsible for all of them.  He looked down to see the endless line of people hurrying along the sidewalk below, minds focused on their own errands, their own problems and cares, secure in the knowledge that they were safe from invasion or attack, because Captain America was on the job.  Well, guess what, Citizens of Earth?  Captain America needed a fucking vacation.  

To his annoyance, Steve heard the door from the stairway open and close, and steps scuffing along the rough, pebbly surface of the roof.  He sighed deeply and turned his head as whoever it was approached, and was shocked to see Phil Coulson, Director of the new S.H.I.E.L.D., standing next to him.  Coulson reached into the jacket of his ubiquitous navy blue suit and pulled out the last thing Steve would have expected: a pack of cigarettes.  

“You’re kidding,” Steve grinned in amused surprise.

Coulson merely shook out a cigarette and handed Steve the pack.  

“I don’t smoke,” Steve said.

“You were in the Army in World War II,” Coulson replied around the cigarette he was lighting.  “You smoke.”

Steve surprised himself by shaking a cigarette out and trading the pack for Coulson’s expensive-looking monogrammed silver lighter. “Nice,” Steve muttered as he flicked the flame to life.

“It’s supermagnetic if you know how to activate the switch.  It’ll attract and stop a bullet.  Hurts like a motherfucker and leaves a perfectly rectangular bruise, but you know. Beats getting shot.”

Steve nodded.  “Guess you’ve had to use it?”

Coulson shrugged and let out a stream of smoke. “Some parts of my job suck.”

“Yeah.  Same.”

“That’s what I came early to talk to you about, actually.”

“Oh?”  Steve asked as they stood shoulder to shoulder, smoking and looking out over the city.  

“You look like shit, Rogers.  You sound like shit.  Carter tells me you sleep like shit.”

Steve shook his head disgustedly.  “Shoulda known you’d have her reporting back to you on me.”

Coulson’s mirthless guffaw surprised Steve.  “You think even I could get her to do that? But I can read between the lines, and I’m very observant.  I also notice you’re not denying it.”

“No,” Steve sighed.  “I’m not denying it.”

Coulson nodded and they smoked in silence for a while before he asked, “Do you know how many employees S.H.I.E.L.D. has?”

“No.”

Coulson blinked.  “OK, actually, neither do I, but it’s a lot.  A whole building full, in fact, not to mention all the ones out in the field.  There are a whole team of avengers, in addition to a number of other members of your team. My point is, you’re not exactly a sole proprietor, Captain Rogers.”

“Never said I was.”

“Really.  Huh. Must’ve misheard you, then.” Coulson crushed out the butt of his cigarette and turned to go back inside the building.

“What about you?”  Steve called to him.

He stopped and turned around.  “What about me?”

“How do you sleep?”

“I sleep like a baby.  You know why?  Because I know I can’t save the world on my own.  So I don’t worry about trying.  I recruit the best people I can find, and I make sure they stay clean and loyal.  Rumor has it I’m somewhat of a dick about that. A rumor I started, by the way.”  

“What’s your point?”

“What’s my point?  I should think that’s rather obvious.  Either you trust your team, in which case you’re wasting valuable energy worrying, or you don’t, in which case you need a new team.  This idea you have that you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders?  It’s bunk. And it’s destroying you.”  

Again, Coulson turned around and headed for the stairway down into the Tower.  He stopped just as he reached the door.  “Oh, and one more thing?”

“What’s that?”

“Figure things out with Stark.  You need each other.  You balance each other out.  This break with him, it’s part of the reason you’re in trouble.”

With that, Director Coulson went through the door, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts, staring out over the city from the roof of Stark Tower.

*****

Sam had thought Anita was special from the moment he laid eyes on her during an operation to rescue a group of physicists who’d been kidnapped by a would-be supervillain.  She had a swagger about her, earned through several years of increasingly more difficult missions.  Of course, she was also beautiful, with her long, black hair and almond-shaped, deep brown eyes fringed by ridiculously long lashes.  More attractive even than her looks was the sense of adventure that bubbled just beneath the surface.  

Today, he was learning quite a bit more about her. Their work at Arias’s villa had proven her to be clever and fearless, but the analysis she’d done of the records from Arias’s bunker was even more impressive.  She’d taken about fifteen minutes to crack the code in which the records were written. Once she explained how it worked, it was obvious that it had taken some serious brainpower to figure it out at all, let alone so quickly.  Of course, it helped that she was a native Spanish speaker, so there was no added difficulty from the fact that the records were in Spanish.  But that didn’t at all diminish the difficulty of what she’d done, and she’d done it seemingly effortlessly.

She had spent the afternoon scouring the records for every mention of something referred to simply as the “resource.”  The more she’d worked on it, the more convinced she had become that this “resource,” whatever it was, was the missing link between the energy-creating machines and the destructive phenomena they caused.  All afternoon, she had typed furiously on her laptop, taking notes and systematically developing and exploring theories in a systematic way that finally resulted in a series of ranked hypotheses about what the “resource” might be.  

Whatever it was, it was consumed in the process of creating one of the phenomena.  Which changed the analysis considerably.  Vision had been almost comically animated when she’d delivered her work product to him.  Vision would be testing it against all the scientific data the team had gathered.  

They still had over an hour left before the team dinner.

“So, what would you like to do with that hour?” Sam asked, trying his best not to look wolfish.  Because he felt wolfish.  

“Actually, I have a great idea,” she answered, and she looked unabashedly wolfish.

Sam gave her a suggestive, crooked smile.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.  Stark says there’s a firing range.”

Firing range.  Not what Sam was hoping for.  

“Yeah.  Yeah, there is.  It’s on the lowest level of the building, below the underground garage.  You want me to take you there?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Like everything else at Stark Tower, the firing range was state of the art.  Sam was curious to see what Anita could do.  He knew S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were required to be able to handle multiple types of firearms, and pass stringent quarterly skills testing, but he wanted to watch Anita firing her weapon.  He was attracted to talent and skill, and something about the athletic way she moved, and the way he’d seen her she handle her sidearm, suggested that he was going to enjoy this.  

He had no idea.

Sam’s Steyr SPPs were semiautomatic only, he couldn’t very well use them for target practice.  For that, he used his Beretta 92FS Inox. He’d noticed that Anita wore a H & K P30, which he had some thoughts about, but wasn’t about to voice them.  Not unless she asked.  

He helped her get fitted out with ear and eye protection, and showed her to a firing lane.

“Is it messed up that I think you look hot as hell right this minute?”  He asked, grinning mischeviously.

“Probably.  But I gotta tell you, I’m struggling with my baser urges right now, too.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow. “You tryin’ to get me all worked up, throw off my aim?”

“How’s it workin’?” Anita smirked.

Sam just shook his head and took his place in the adjacent lane.

Anita smoked him. Absolutely smoked him.  Sam was a pretty good shot, but it wasn’t even close. Being competitive, he was initially determined to beat her, then grew tense as she consistently shot exactly what she was aiming at, regardless of distance or complicating factors they threw in. Sam did pretty well when they did a “turn and fire”, because he was always having to aim on the move.  But regardless of what they named as the target – center mass, any quadrant, any point level – that’s where Anita sent a bullet.  After a while, Sam got over being competitive and just settled into being very, very impressed.

Which, in turn, resulted in Sam becoming very, very turned on.  He was immensely grateful that Friday was willing to lock the doors and turn off monitoring when he asked.  It really would have been awkward to have someone come in while he was behind Anita in her shooting booth, thrusting into her while occasionally glancing up at the target she’d last used.

 *****

Bruce was a little amused by Catherine’s reaction to Vision.  She was absolutely fascinated by him.  From the time he’d entered Bruce’s lab, she had been asking him an endless list of increasingly detailed and – in Bruce’s mind - intrusive questions.  Vision, however, didn’t seem to object.  In fact, Bruce thought, he seemed to be as intrigued by himself as Catherine was.  

Beyond his amusement, though, Catherine’s intense curiosity enchanted Bruce.  The enthusiastic glow in her startling green eyes, the heightened color in her cheeks, had Bruce as enthralled with Catherine as she was with Vision.  More than that, her questions were brilliant, and displayed her ability to follow Vision’s explanations of some pretty damned esoteric concepts, and extrapolate from them.  Catherine’s genius had always excited Bruce.  For at least an hour, while he tried to pretend he wasn’t hanging on every word of their conversation, Tony was the only one getting any work done.  

“Yeah, OK, show and tell is over,” Tony finally announced, when he noticed.  “Let’s get some damn science-ing done here, all right?  Vision, what we need from you is an analysis of what the missing link could be between these machines and the phenomena.  How’s the energy being directed?”

Vision nodded and stepped to a worktable where he pulled up his own display and began to work through materials at a pace too fast for any of the humans to even follow the screens as he scrolled through them. Bruce quickly stopped trying; it was giving him motion sickness.  

Instead, he watched Catherine.  Her demeanor since they’d reached the lab this morning had been entirely professional, entirely collegial.  Even at lunch, which they should probably have eaten in the lab for all the attention they paid to anyone else at the table, she had her head together with him and Tony discussing their near-complete assessment of the machines, the energy, and the phenomena.  Her manner toward Bruce was identical to the way she spoke to Tony.  Since breakfast, there’d been no hint in her behavior that she and Bruce had spent the large majority of the previous night fucking each other senseless.  

He realized he was half-hard and didn’t need the deep ache in his balls to tell him he’d been that way for most of the day. No surprise there; the last woman he’d been with had been Catherine.  He couldn’t blame the poor, starved little guy for wanting more of the first real sex he’d had in over two years.  And what sex it had been.  He really needed to stop replaying and replaying moments from the night before in his head; it was not helping his current condition.  He could still taste her.  Her cries of love as she came still echoed in his head.  

If it had just been sex, if he was following his own rules, he would probably have found an excuse to pull her away from the lab long enough to pin her against a wall somewhere, or maybe lay her across a desk. Yeah, he really needed to stop thinking about that.  The thing was, he wasn’t following his own rules.  He replayed her voice telling him she loved him much more often than he replayed her shouting in ecstasy, or growling filthy instructions and praise in his ear. He felt, over and over again, the warm thrill that had filled his chest as he reached for her and she melted into him, murmuring his name in her sleep.  

Two hours later, when evening was falling and it was almost time to the assembled team for dinner, Bruce noticed Catherine hanging back as Tony and Vision left his lab, heads together talking about something even Bruce couldn’t follow.  He was shocked to see her sitting on her tall stool, looking at him as though he was made of the Belgian chocolate she couldn’t get enough of.  Irresistibly drawn to her as if by some compulsion she was consciously exerting on him, he began to move slowly, tentatively, toward her, stepping faster as he got closer and saw the need in her eyes.  

She slid her hands up his upper arms as he embraced her, spreading her thighs and pulling him in so their bodies were pressed together.  A surge of something powerful hit Bruce when he felt her hook her feet around his calves, like she used to do when they’d worked together at Oxford.  

It was weeks later that Bruce understood this was the moment he lost the battle.  All he knew at the time was that he needed Catherine’s mouth under his, her arms and legs holding him, like he needed air.  More, because he paid no attention to trying to breathe; all he cared about was the way her lips felt on his and the sweet, coffee-tinged taste of her mouth.  He didn’t even know he was rubbing his cock against her through their clothes, because he was kissing her, and she was kissing him back, and they were both mumbling I love you’s into each other’s mouths, and it was so good and so necessary and so stupendously, irresistibly right that he refused to consider ever leaving this moment, even to come. Which, as it turned out, he didn’t.

She came first, surprising the hell out of him in his blissed-out, love-drunk state.  But when she did, he was stunned to realize that he was right there with her. So he simply kept on thrusting against her, kisses so wide-open and invasive there was saliva coating his chin, until he, too, climaxed with a hissed rush of barely-comprehensible endearments.  

Having taken the edge off with that first orgasm, they were able to take a bit of care with one another’s clothing once he led her by the hand to the oversized couch to one side of the lab.  Bruce thought, in an indecent corner of his mind, of the other times he’d had sex on this couch – alone and driven by pent-up need – and felt a tremor go through him when he considered that he would be able to look back at this moment at such times in the future, and maybe feel just a bit less lonely.  

Once he had Catherine completely nude, he pulled her down on his lap and wrapped her in his arms.  

“I’ve been hard for you all day.  You have no idea…”

“Like hell I don’t – I was getting ready to knock you down and bonk you on the floor.”

Bruce laughed breathily as he lifted Catherine by her hips and she reached for his cock, positioning them so that he slid easily into her, hot and slick.  They cried out together with the long-delayed feeling they’d both been craving all day. Bruce had just enough mental capacity left to remember to call out to Friday, asking her to lock the door and stop monitoring his lab.  

They were gloriously entwined, Catherine lying on the couch with Bruce above her, both sweaty and oversensitive, but still going, when Friday politely interrupted.

“Excuse me, doctors, but I’ve been asked to inform you that you are late for the team dinner.”

Bruce and Catherine both groaned in protest.  

“The boss says to tell you that, quote, he will turn on the monitors and project whatever they see in your lab onto the dining room wall in five minutes, and that you should act accordingly.”

“Right wanker, isn’t he?”  Catherine muttered.  

“When Pepper’s out of town?”  Bruce answered.  “Always.”

[pleasereadmeok]

“....his 6'2" frame and sea green eyes catapult him into that other plane of existence known as Ridiculously Good-Looking. To call him charming is kind of like saying Heidi Klum has a nice smile.”

“ ....his rarefied magnetism, that room-owning presence,”

“If every woman in America could share a bottle of Italian red and a plate of olives with Goode, he’d be bigger than Clooney. Scratch that—bigger than Brad”. Candice Rainey - Elle.

I HAVE TO AGREE. 

Full interview with Matthew from 2008 - which is typically funny and charming - is under here.  The end is  ADORABLE!

I wanted to meet Matthew Goode at a wine bar. I remembered from an earlier encounter with the 30-year-old British actor that the guy is partial to the grape—not in a let's swirl and sniff while we muse on "the legs" way, but he knew his way around a wine list, confidently pronounced appellations, and is a believer in drinking glasses of it daily, because, you know, it's heart-healthy. His publicist, however, isn't on board. He has a meeting with a director right after. Can I choose a coffee spot? I pick a small Italian joint on New York's Lower East Side where they serve espresso, too.

When Goode slips out of the black sedan that's chauffeuring him around on this Monday afternoon and bounds through the door, he spots me, kisses me on both cheeks, and takes a seat at our small table nuzzled up against a floor-to-ceiling window.

"Right," he says, grinning. "Let's order some wine! And some bread and olives."

What about the thing with the director? Goode flashes me a look: Never mind that.

"Two glasses," He says to the waiter, who's holding a bottle of Pinot Nero, about to pour me one. "And we'll do a bottle of that."

If every woman in America could share a bottle of Italian red and a plate of olives with Goode, he'd be bigger than Clooney. Scratch that—bigger than Brad. He's wearing a wrinkled T-shirt, a black knit beanie, and faded Levis that hang just right off his hip bones. He smokes Marlboros. He quotes Cary Grant and the British columnist Jeffrey Bernard freely but so aptly that it doesn't come off as jerky, just incredibly...cool. "`None of my party drinks singles, they do have some style, you know.' That's one of my favorite lines in that play. I fucking love him," Goode says in his plummy English accent, referring to Keith Waterhouse and his play Jeffrey Bernard Is Unwell.

He tells me I have olive bits stuck in my teeth, and to make me feel like less of an idiot he pulls his cheek open with a hooked finger and shows me a jagged bottom molar that's half missing. "I have horrible teeth. I've been walking around like that for two years, and I still haven't gone to see a dentist about it."

He pops off funny, self-deprecating stories, like the time Emma Thompson told him he had a large Roman nose just like Peter O'Toole's before he got his done, that underline just how normal he is, despite the fact that his 6'2" frame and sea green eyes catapult him into that other plane of existence known as Ridiculously Good-Looking. To call him charming is kind of like saying Heidi Klum has a nice smile.

Of course, because he can't clone himself a million times over and steal wives and girlfriends away for a liquid lunch, the reality is that most women, and moviegoers in general, still don't know who the hell Matthew Goode is—mostly because we've only seen him in a handful of films, some of them uneven oddballs (Imagine Me & You and Copying Beethoven) that haven't exactly sent his career trajectory skyrocketing.

Nonetheless, his rarefied magnetism, that room-owning presence, has managed to seep through all of his work, snapping critics and directors to attention—even as a teen-dream heartthrob in 2004's Chasing Liberty, in which he played a Secret Service agent ordered to protect Mandy Moore, the president's daughter, as she jaunts around Europe. Though not exactly the kind of soul-stirring material for which Goode studied drama at the University of Birmingham ("It is what it is, but without it I wouldn't have been here"), it did lead to a supporting yet crucial role in Woody Allen's Match Point as Scarlett Johansson's fiancé, in which he nearly upstaged his costars.

Last year, Goode made himself unrecognizable in The Lookout, Scott Frank's twisted take on the heist-movie genre. He nailed the character, a diabolical American ex-con who preys upon a brain-injured janitor.

"The Lookout was what made me think, Yeah, he can do it," says 300 director Zack Snyder, who cast Goode as a not-so-straight-ahead villain in his comic-book geek-out Watchmen, due in 2009. "He's really interested in doing the work of acting."

Goode, who lives in London, is in town to promote this month's Brideshead Revisited, based on the 1945 novel by Evelyn Waugh, in which he stars as Charles Ryder, a reserved Englishman who forms an intense bond with an unhinged aristocratic Catholic family. Brideshead is a very British, very layered text, exactly the kind of material that's nearly impossible to jam into a two-hour film. That, compounded by the fact that it was made into a beloved UK miniseries starring Jeremy Irons 27 years ago, makes this production a potential suicide mission.

"I watched Brideshead Revisited," I tell Goode. "That's a complicated film. I'm not sure what my question is."

"What's it about?" Goode smiles and crinkles his brow. "Right."

"It reminds me of..."

"Gay porn?"

We should probably get to that. In the book, Ryder forms a close relationship with his schoolmate Sebastian Flyte (the son in the unhinged Catholic family), and it's unclear whether they are simply tight pals or Waugh meant to imply that they have a physical relationship. In the film, that question is answered—subtly, but answered.

Goode requests that we move outside so we can smoke. I ask him if he's nervous about how the film will be received.

"Every job you do is nerve-racking," he says, taking a drag off his cigarette.

But it feels like he's particularly skittish about this role.

"I'm not very well-known in England, so it's quite interesting that this is a job that will make me a little more known, perhaps. And it can make me more known for not a good reason—as in, they should have never fucking remade it. And that's nerve-racking."

Though he's the kind of actor who pores over script and dialogue (he could write the CliffsNotes for Brideshead at this point), Goode loathes describing his "process." "There's no way you can possibly explain it. And the more you do it, the more you sound like a dick. I don't want to hear, `I bled for you.' It's like, Fuck off."

He'd much rather talk about his girlfriend, Sophie, who lives in New York City but has agreed to move into a flat with Goode in London. He pulls out a billfold wallet with scrap-book-size 4" x 5"'s—Sophie bearing two Big Gulp-size margaritas in Mexico, Sophie satirically striking a voguing pose—all creased and worn around the edges.

Goode has to meet the director soon. We have one last cigarette, finish off our follow-up carafe, and he's off. I get a text five minutes later: "Fuck. I left without putting anything down for the bill. Sorry, even if it's ELLE, I should have got the tip. I'll get the wine in London. Love Goodey." Ladies, meet the next leading man.

[quietlysatan]

We've Written Volumes (in Blood and Scars and Ink) - notthequiettype, AO3

Link: Here!!

Rating: Explicit

Favorite Quote(s): He sits down to a stack of pancakes shaped like dicks. His friends are assholes and he hates everyone.

And this one because I’m an asshole too

"I want to make a wolf Viagra joke, but you look so dejected I can't."

Scott grabs Stiles' hands again, squeezing his fingers so tight Stiles winces. He closes his eyes and starts murmuring to himself. Stiles waits and waits and waits a little longer. "Dude, it's okay, I hear it happens to guys all the time."

(I can’t put the next one here without copy-pasting like seven hundred words but it’s the part where Derek goes overboard with the pain thing, the part directly after that, I love that part. So much. I laughed so hard.)

And this one because this should’ve happened to me already with the amount of times I’ve accidentally walked into walls, doors, people, animals, and, most notably, that one time I walked into a pole and my tooth fell out... Why am I allowed out of bed???, and also cause my mom would say this to me... and probably has...

"I don't understand. I literally do not understand how these things happen to you." His dad hasn't stopped shaking his head since he arrived.

"It's not my fault I'm surrounded by dangerous people!"

Words & Chapter(s): 25,935 one-shot

Summary: Stiles is on his back on hard-packed dirt. He's cold and there are leaves stuck to his neck and there's a four-inch gash in his side that he thinks he can feel his ribs through. There's so much blood around him he feels like he's floating on a pond and everything is so much dimmer above him than it was a minute ago, which is saying something because he's in the dark center of the forest in the middle of the night. And the worst of it is that he's alone, totally alone with the smell of his own blood drowning him and the soft side of him run through by a tree.

As his eyes slip shut, the last thing he thinks is, "This is going to kill my dad."

(IT’S NOT ACTUALLY AS ANGSTY AS IT LOOKS. ACTUALLY, COME TO THINK OF IT, I’M NOT ACTUALLY CERTAIN IT EVEN IS ANGSTY) 

Score: 13. Even the lemon was good, that should say something

Pairing(s): Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, background Allison Argent/Scott McCall

Warning(s): There’s a couple of gruesome injury descriptions here and there but it’s not often, and can be easily be skipped over and ignored if necessary. Two Lemons. Two really good Lemons. Like I didn’t glaze over once. Also, I’m like, 9% sure Stiles is seventeen, but I’m not certain... For all I know he could be 18 is what I’m saying and I’m pretty sure it was never mentioned. Besides Derek is only 21 in canon anyway.

Pros: EVERYTHING

SO MUCH GREATNESS I LOVE IT. It’s not a very deep philosophical conversation thing which is great because I am so not interested in questioning my place in the universe today, maybe tomorrow though... 

The story is very cute and funny, and the banter between Derek and Stiles feels so real and honest, and funny, and entertaining, and GODS I JUST LOVED IT SO MUCH UGH!!! 

I love Stiles’ characterization AS WELL AS Derek’s especially since usually Derek has about five speaking lines in fic I stg, like, guys, I know we all jumped ship after seasons 3 and 4 depending but come on bro, he doesn’t actually just stand there and look pretty contrary to popular belief. Also, I don’t remember him growling that much guys. The author has written what I think is possibly the best incarnation od Derek Hale written in this tone thus far.

I love the storyline twist (It’s small and slightly predictable) and the acceptance and acknowledgment that Scott is being a bad best friend without making him into a fucking demonic asswipe from hell. It basically just makes fun of Scott any chance that comes along, and I love it because it’s very “These are a group of kids (Yes Derek is a kid too. 21 is BARELY an adult. BARELY.) watch them as they unintentionally fuck shit up on accident like the idiots we all know they are.” esque, which is always great. I really hate it when Derek acts like he’s in his early thirties when he’s barely even legal to fucking drink alcohol. 

The writing is easy to understand and keep up with and my eyes glazed over exactly zero (0) times, which is always a plus because I have ADHD, and I’m kinda tired tbh, but dammit this was great regardless. 

I know I’ve said it seventy-two-point-five times already but it’s really great and fun, and I love it a lot, and I’m adding it to my “Favorite Reads” bookmark on my computer (I should publish that someday. Not today though.)

Cons:

but also it makes me feel like

Aesthetic: This Playlist, and this Playlist combined. Also, a good stand-up show, the first time you kissed someone and you felt it in the warmth on your lips and the softness of their skin, and the tingles in your fingers, and the fire in your chest. As close to falling in love as I’ve gotten not counting that one time I fell for the Straight Girl. Dancing around the person you like and wondering if their dance is for you too, the first concert you went too that was hype and energetic and fun, making friends online through obscure jokes, realising that you’ve found your favortie person, and laughing with them at midnight while you lay on a bed and play with their hands above your heads and talk about everything and anything with no holding back, that one funny story you love to remember. All the best firsts.

Gif Aesthetic: It’s definitely this

And a bunch of this

and like two of these