#sorry marvel you'd ruin me.

[sciderman]

I won't lie, there's a centrain magic to reading comics, maybe it's because you have more control over the direction, speed, voices and music when reading over watching something, maybe it's how creative people can get with panel lay-outs, maybe it's all of those things along with the different art styles and way people express themselves through their comic runs, maybe it's the fact there's SO many of them and so many different runs, AUs, versions, solo-stories and characters that while not every comics is for everyone, there's A comics for everyone.

And it's something that only animation can come close to capturing, occasionaly some games because they can give us amazing set pieces and action and stylization through gameplay. But to me live action movies just miss the mark exept a few and even then i just enjoy the comics more.

I think one big thing for me is the narration, because it helps me relate to characters as someone who's thoughts are pretty loud and narration-like, and the fact it's ME who decides how i make the characters sound and talk rather than having to listen to someone else voice the character in a way that i feel isn't "right".

So i'd say personaly it's comics>>books (i like books, and i LOVE fanfics but the visual part stimulates my brain more) >>>animation>games>live action

i agree wholeheartedly! i don't know, i'm kind of in love with the comic medium. but i love writing, also. i just - i really don't like the passivity of animation and television - i need a lot more stimulation than that to get my brain working. i like all the brain work you have to do when you're reading words. and i love the challenge of pulling off "comedic timing" when you don't actually HAVE the dimension of time in your medium exactly - so you have to work with panelling, and you have to work with spacing in your writing - and it's just so sexy and more active for the brain. like you're inventing a language.

comedy writing in comics is so, so fulfilling because you're a comedian, but your format is visual. you need to rely on visual language to carry it. and jokes are all about expectation and subversion and timing. a joke can fall so flat if that timing is off. and - i don't know, i'm obsessed with comics, as if they're some kind of form of visual poetry. it's taken for granted, i think. it's taken for granted.

i think you become more restricted the more dimensions you introduce - so - writing is entirely free. you can do WHATEVER you want, all by yourself, without needing to rely on the quality of your art software or the actors you have at your disposal or anything - you can conjure any visual you like. comics - more challenging, you're limited by your artistic ability but again - you're not restricted by voice cast - god, i love being able to conjure any voice at all in my head for the boys. i think if i was restricted by voice actors i'd have to write them differently, et cetera et cetera... i'd be dealing with VAs and saying "actually. your delivery is all wrong. i have to rewrite the joke." - i'm so particular about these things, you have no idea.

i remember the first time i watched the deadpool movie after having read the original script over and over YEARS prior and having heard it play out in my head in the most hilarious of ways and then. hearing ryan's delivery of those jokes and thinking "oh. it's not that funny actually."

sorry ryan. it might've been funnier if i hadn't read the script already and hadn't already had the movie play out in my brain way funnier than how you did it. sorry. my brain is a better cinema.

something i also love about print vs film - i've had this problem with a lot of adaptations - i despise film adaptations of books i love, just because - something is so sullied about having so many hands in the pot. actors. camera men. producers. directors. all these people - when - what i loved about the book was feeling close to the author. it's just me and him. we're together, intimately. and all of that intimacy gets lost when you know there's a huge film crew behind it.

kind of weird. i love reading a book and just, giggling over the pages, like it's a joke between me and the author. i don't know, i'm a weird little saddo who craves intimacy. so i like the intimacy of it being a one-man show. i love things where i can feel close to the creator. i hope that's why people like my things too. and it's why i like my things. i sometimes think "ouugh. why can't i work for marvel" but i think about how - i'm lucky i get to create what i want to create without having to compromise or answer to editorial. and what i create can always be unapologetically me. and that means more. that means so much more.

[bunny-jpeg]

how can i take your order? all you have to do is pick a dessert, drink and driver/character of your choosing! are you in the mood for a mille-feuille or a big slice of chocolate cake! please, please, please indicate who you want me to write about!!

the servers are from the following: formula one, call of duty, baldur's gate 3, haikyuu, one piece, jujustu kaisen, detective comics (dc), marvel comics (but i am open to any other fandoms you might have in mind! please do not hesitate to ask!!)

i do also accept polyam relationships! (pairing + reader), up to about four people! just to make it manageable on my end!

all orders can be made to the inbox for @bunnys-kisses and i'll get your order together asap! also let me know if you want it extra sweet or a little more spicy !

mille-feuille: “that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”

butter tart: "let's ruin ourselves for anyone else."

sugar pie: “gonna let daddy hear ya?”

zebra cake: "well, what do we have here?"

carrot cake: "swallow it. all of it."

millionaire shortcake: "if they saw you now, you'd be the biggest shame to your family."

pots de crème: "if a picture is worth a thousand words, then i could probably get a million dollars for this photo."

oat flapjacks: "i'm not scared of you."

persian rolls: "it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat."

spice pie: "i didn't know it was possible to be a liar and a slut."

mushroom pie: "if you don't shut up. i'm going to shut you up."

lemon slice: "i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making."

swiss roll: "everything you own, everything you wear i paid for. so i guess that means i own you."

pumpkin pie: "i've met strays who were more obedient."

pastry braid: "your job is to make me cum. now get to work."

sausage roll: "i wonder how much i could get for photos of this cunt."

pithivier: "if you don't behave, i'll let the boys take care of you."

tiramisu: “my little slut to ruin.”

sponge toffee: "aw, is someone mad that they can only cum because of me?"

pull-apart bread: "i love you"

powered sugar donuts: "marry me."

blueberry bars: “gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.”

pudding chomeur: "i don't share."

ice cream bars: “did you see the way he was eyeing you? he need to know you're mine."

chocolate cake: "do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day."

soufflé: "i'll be gentle."

fried dough: "i know virginity is a stupid concept... but i want to take yours."

apple pie: "now be good and beg. thank you."

vanilla cheesecake: "where are your manners?"

berry trifle: "wrong. try again."

maple cream pie: "either you wear the necklace with my name on it, or wear my bruises around your neck."

s'more: "The accent gets to you, doesn't it?"

belgian waffles: "i cum in that every night."

pancakes: "if you bite me. i'll bite you back."

loaf of whole wheat bread: "you're going to shut that mouth and take me."

jos louis: "does someone need a daddy?"

maple taffy: "oh my god you're stupid."

snowballs: "don't worry, drug tests aren't till next week."

shortbread cookies: "and who does this belong to?"

flan: "i'm not possessive... i'm obsessive."

peach cake: "if you spill a drop, we start all over."

angel food cake: "if he fucks with me again, i'm finishing inside of you."

red velvet cupcake: "if you don't like being called a whore, then stop acting like one."

mince pie: "i'm not jealous."

banana bread: "i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name."

crumb cake: "if you just listened, all of this could've been avoided."

chocolate chip cookies: "you're beautiful when you smile, but you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat"

nanaimo bars: "who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it."

coffee cake: "knees. now."

sourdough bread: "i'm going to breed you."

blueberry muffins: "i don't think it'll fit."

pound cake with strawberries: "you know i hate going over rules, but just because i like seeing you embarrassed, i'll tell you them again."

croissant: "i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

crepe: "pretty girl."

french toast: "you're trying to make me jealous!"

churros: "if you don't shut that little mouth of yours, i will stuff it full. okay?"

shortbread squares: "you're just mad that that my cock fits perfectly in you now. must be a blow to the ego that we're a perfect match."

savory pastry: "let your brother find out."

sweet pastry: "i'll make it all better."

eclairs: "the family's precious little girl. under me like a slut."

boston cream pie: "yeah, i'll use protection."

bagel: “gonna paint you with my teeth.”

crostata: “stupid slut, this is what you wanted huh? wanted me to fuck you like i hate you.”

tres leches: "i wonder if your brother know i cum in you."

peanut butter bars: “scratch me, bite me, just mark me sweetheart. show them I’m yours.”

eton mess: "be careful. your breath smells like cum."

scones: "but what if they see us!"

english muffin: "aw, is someone crying?"

honey cruller: "i forget how small you are sometimes."

banana split: "don't look at me like that."

beer brownies: "stick your tongue out anymore and you'll look like a dog."

fudge: "your father is pissing me off."

sticky toffee pudding: "the only way this is ending is you getting pregnant."

hot cross buns: "don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up."

brownies: "you're so much more agreeable when you have something to occupy that mouth of yours."

chocolate mousse: "the only necklace you need is my hand around your throat"

tim bits: "stupid little thing."

fruitcake: "i'll make tonight special."

cornmeal muffin: "i need you most."

devil's food cake: "you're my most unhealthy obsession."

crème caramel: "oh. you thought you were getting away from me?"

banana & chocolate muffins: "i'm only doing this because you need to learn how to behave, rules are rules, and you need to follow them."

custard tart: "i've never done this before."

cinnamon rolls: "no one needs to know."

mango sorbet: "you are by far the dumbest thing i've ever fucked. how did they even let you graduate?"

date squares: "you look better with my marks on you."

figgy duff: "if i buy it, will you stop pouting?"

spicy upside down cake: "let's play a game: don't get caught."

cream puffs: "let me finish inside."

profiteroles: "come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go."

with a side of:

coffee: rivals

tea: semi-public/public sex

juice: cockwarming

mocha coffee: breeding kink

bubble tea: daddy kink

a vodka shot: rough sex

sparkling water: gentle sex

coconut water: alternate universe

energy drink: doggy style

champagne: sugar daddy situation

hard lemonade: possessive behaviour

espresso shot: dirty talking

a glass of wine: cowgirl position

ice capp coffee: werewolf au

bloody mary: vampire au

martini: mafia au

frozen latte: dumbification

frozen lemonade: consensual non-consent

cranberry juice: mean!character

glass of water: aftercare

chocolate milk: tenderness

milkshake: size kink

pina colada: pregnancy

cider: body worship

mai tai: loss of virginity

margarita: unprotected sex

mint julep: punishments

chai: biting/hickies

earl grey: big cock

fishbowl cocktail: protected sex

tonic water: age gap

matcha latte: collars/bondage

root beer: filming/recording

soda: jealousy

americano: oral sex

whisky: degrading language

vitamin water: dom/sub dynamic

irish coffee: high sex

sangria: drunk sex

dark roast coffee: sub!character

dark hot chocolate: sub!reader

iced tea: accidentally launching relationship

lemon water: university/college au

naked & famous: bimbo/ditzy!reader

on the house: author's choice!

ORDER UP!

[abbyssx]

omg just saw you’re writing fluff for Ellie!!! please would you write something where she is like jokingly proposing to reader outside of Joel’s house after coming home from a party or something and Joel sees them and is all like well girls marriage is a big decision tehehehe

Sorry this was so loaded !!!!! <3333

hope you like it! ˚୨୧⋆｡˚

“you would look so hot in one of those, babe” hand in hand, coordinated heartbeats and the unmistakeable glimmer of two pairs of glossy eyes that scanned the marvellous dresses exhibited through the window of the closed bridal boutique.

“who says i’ll be the one wearing a dress? i would kill to see you with that sparkly one, you'd look so cute” you replied with a chuckle.

ellie shook her head. “i would rather die”.

“would rather die than marry me? oh, i see how it is, williams” feigning offense, you dramatically dropped her hand and started walking away. ellie followed your footsteps, the noise of her ruined converse shoes meeting the wet pavement alerting you of her moves.

she held your hand again before kissing your cheek and mumbling a soft “let’s get home, it’s getting too cold”.

being almost midnight, the city was quiet. only a few lights shined on the streets, mainly illuminated by the thousands of stars above you both. you couldn’t help but think of marrying ellie. who would propose first? would she say a speech? would she write vows and share them upon the altar, or would she do it in private? bet she would look so beautiful with a suit on. would she let her hair down? would she wear a tie?

a small squeeze on your hand made you abandon the fog of those images and come back to reality.

“what’s on your mind, angel?”

“oh, nothing” you suddenly felt shy. you and ellie had been dating for barely over a year, you were both so young, why were you thinking about marriage? there were so many other experiences you wanted to live with her before tying the knot, but oh, you had been craving for so long a love like this.

“come on… you were thinking about our wedding, right?” of course she knew. she knew you better than anyone else. your cheeks started to feel warm. “it’s okay” ellie chuckled. “i was thinking of that too”.

“yeah?”

“mhm. i know we’re young and stuff but… i’d really like to marry you, y’know? if it were up to me, i’d propose right now”.

“no, you wouldn’t” you scoffed. without noticing, you had already arrived at ellie’s house. you had started to climb the porch stairs when your girlfriend spoke again:

“yes, i would! wait a second” she started rummaging through her coat’s pockets, in search of something. when she found it, she held it in her palm very tightly. “this will do”.

“what are you doing, ellie?” you said, gasping when she got down in one knee.

“i’m not a hoarder, but i’d like to keep you forever. Would you take this weird rock i just found in my pocket as a sign of my eternal love to you and be my wife?” she recited in one breath, her knee getting wet through her jeans because of the melting snow that laid on the sidewalk. hearing your laugh, she got up from her kneeling position, and hugged you very tight. “what? i’m serious! i know it’s not a diamond ring but it’s a cool rock, right?”

 “you are so dumb!” you rolled your eyes.

“but you love me, dumb and all” ellie marked with a kiss on your cheek.

“that is true. i do love you, very much. but I’m freezing my ass off, can we get inside please?”

with your hands intertwined again, you crossed the threshold of the house, immediately enjoying the warmth and coziness. until a very dishevelled joel appeared through the hallway.

“hey girls. um, ellie, can i speak to you for a second?” he looked at you, then diverted his eyes to ellie again “in private?”

“you can go to my room, baby” ellie shot joel a confused look “what’s up?”

“ellie, i… you know i appreciate your love for your girlfriend, i noticed your strong connection and all and, it is wonderful, and i am happy for you, but i think you should wait a bit. you need to have more life experiences and personal growth… building a foundation on your own will make your future together stronger, you know?” he rambled, pacing around the room.

“the fuck are you talking about, joel?”

“it’s just… look, ellie: marriage is a lifelong commitment. i’m not sure you’re ready for it. think this through, please”.

“marriage? who said anything about marriag- oh.” ellie couldn’t contain her giggles, that easily turned into a full belly laugh. “oh my god, joel! i didn’t propose, you dork! i was just kidding, jesus!” she wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

“oh… i was just looking outside and yeah. well, that’s… that’s good, yeah. um, sorry”

Little did any of you know that this would be a part of the funniest (and drunkest) wedding speech by Joel, and that you’d keep that weird rock forever

again, short but sweet :) thank u for aaaall the ideas you’ve given me!! i’ll work on them asap! 🤍

mwah!!!

[merakiui]

sk!manager!azul who offers to eat you out after you get very stressful from idol activities 😳😳😳😳

👁 👁 he gives you the whole "benefits of being sexually active as proven by science" spiel so you're more likely to agree. That, and it would be much harder to do this with just anyone or someone just as famous as yourself. No one has to know. This will be a secret between idol and manager. Even though you seem somewhat hesitant, he insists you'll feel better. Just let your manager soothe you. You're in capable hands. <3 he's so trustworthy! And hasn't he only ever wanted what's best for you?

Now his head is between your legs and he's lapping and suckling at your clit like an expert, working you open with two fingers. He alternates between fingers and mouth, and any reluctance you may have felt in the beginning quickly withers away. Within no time, you're burying your fingers in his hair and clamping your thighs together to keep him trapped there. He's removed his glasses so they won't get in the way, and every now and then the both of you meet each other's stare. You've never noticed just how beautiful his eyes are. So striking. So hypnotic,,, your brain is mush by your third orgasm, and you're panting and gasping, begging him to keep going. Not like he intends to stop. He's wanted this for years and now he finally has it. Of course he's going to be greedy!

You're not really listening to yourself when you ask him if he's dating or married. You never hear much about your manager's personal life even though he seems to know so much of yours. Azul hums against your slick cunt. Would you be upset if he was? Would you like to put a ring on him? Should he just propose to you now?

If only all of those loser fans of yours knew what you were getting up to right now. All of that nonsense about being a pure idol free of romantic entanglements and here you on squirting for him like the slutty idol you really are. :) you're just too cute. He wants you all to himself, and soon he'll have you. Soon the two of you will live a peaceful life in isolation. Somewhere quiet and slow by the sea. Doesn't that sound marvelous?

He's killed for you. Stalked you. Fucked into his hand while listening to the voicemails you'd leave him on his work phone: "Hi, Azul! Vil and I are thinking of doing a collab. Could you help me arrange something?" or "Azul, sorry for calling so late. I just remembered something important. Can you review my schedule with me again? I think I'm forgetting something you mentioned earlier today..." or "Would it look weird if I started studying to get my driver's license? Do you think that would get me in trouble? Actually, maybe we should just meet up and talk about it in person... Thanks anyways, Azul!"

You're just so perfect. Even these strictly professional voicemails are hailed as the sweetest songs. He's so depraved. Nothing like the composed, cordial manager he masquerades as. Would you hate him if you knew that? Would you look at him differently? Would you stop saying his name in that sweet, breathless voice of yours as he brings you to your end once more? Maybe it's best if you don't know. He's worked so hard to get to this point. It would be a shame to ruin things now.

Besides, what you don't know can't hurt you.

[artficlly]

a dish served cold (mini series - part two)

Wild West Marvel AU

outlaw!bucky x reader after the murder of your pa, you go on a journey to find justice. fate brings you to crimson junction for a reason, and that reason is bucky barnes. 

Warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, sexual tension, guns, knives, violence, mention of death of a parent, mention of gambling, mention of sex work, creepy men, period typical attitudes, outlaw bucky, protective bucky, bucky has issues, mention of robbery & crimes, mention of police (law), mention of bounty hunters, mention of flooding & drought, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: chapter two!! please let me know if you're enjoying this wild ride so far!! if you're enjoying the western au stuff i have two one-shots (me & the devil and king of pentacles) that you should check out!! they are linked on my main masterlist <3 if you'd like a tag list let me know. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist | series masterlist

If the town of Crimson Junction had thought the pack of unruly travellers had reached their peak of restlessness, they were sorely wrong. The locals were now truly at their wits end. Two afternoons had passed, and chaos had descended. Men turned to drink to quell their boredom and sin followed as it always did. Brawls had broke out in mass, the hotel in ruins as rooms were used as makeshift whorehouses and gambling dens. You were kept up all night as the screaming, laughter, and moaning ensued around you. Violence, indulgence, and wickedness ran rampant through the streets. You had grown to expect nothing less of the once sleepy town. 

The noise did not particularly bother you. You were kept up most nights regardless, tossing and turning at the thought of Barnes. Your dreams would replay the scene from the saloon, a moving picture beneath your eyelids. In your dream, you would beam at him, fluttering your eyelashes, while the outlaw watched on with his cold, blue eyes. He would stalk towards you, his callused hand stroking down your cheek. The dream you would lean into his touch, nuzzling his palm. Then he would wrap his hand around your throat, gripping you tightly. You would struggle, breathlessly clawing at him. His expression would be blank. Unphased.

You would awake, drenched in a cold sweat as breathless as in the dream. 

Even when you were awake, you’d think of him still. His visage was so clear in your mind that it drove you to near insanity. He clung to you like smoke, your thoughts utterly consumed by him. You’d recall how his knuckles grew white or how his jaw clenched. You’d stare up at the ceiling, watching the sun rise and fall. You’d trace the patterns on the wallpaper and the creases on the sheets. 

In the room beside you, the bed would squeak and bang. The force was so powerful and loud that the walls shook. Your hands would ghost across your bare skin, along your thighs, waist, and collarbone. Still, you’d think of him, Barnes. How long had he plagued your thoughts and your life? How long would he haunt you still? Was he the ghost, or were you? Permanently intertwined never to know a day of peace until your work was done. 

The next time your mind wandered to him, your finger tracing the contour of your lower lip, you bit down hard on that finger until you swore you could taste blood. 

—

When the news of a meeting made the rounds, you were relieved. The flowery wallpaper in your room was growing rather nauseating to stare at. A break from your slow spiral into lunacy was welcome news. Fresh air, you decided, would do you well, even if a rather suffocating and sticky heat had descended upon the canyons now that the rains had passed. 

The mud had begun to dry in the midday sun, a thick skin developing and some sections cracking. The dry weather was a good omen for once. You didn’t think Crimson Junction had ever prayed for the sun to return. The pastor announced that the roads were predicted to be cleared by the end of the week, and the entire crowd breathed a sigh of relief. You couldn’t help but think it was the most civil you had seen them in your short stay. Maybe it was that natural reaction of fearing God and therefore his preachers. Though, after all you had witnessed, you were surprised the small town even had a church. It was even stranger that it seemed Crimson Junction was led by one, as there was no other authority present.

Not even a sheriff's office. 

That did seem rather convenient. 

The pastor spoke of his gratitude for the travellers patience and his admiration for the workers and survivors. You did not find his words particularly interesting, no matter how heartfelt they were. You had spent countless Sundays in church; it was instilled within you to zone out at the droning words of a preacher. You had been a good girl, yes, but never a good Christian. Hands tightly clasped together and chin high, your eyes had remained locked onto the back of a familiar head. 

Barnes stood mingled within the crowd; you could see him well from your vantage point on the wooden porch of the general store. You stood alongside the other ladies who didn’t want to join the men crowded in the mud. You couldn’t help but notice how Barnes also did not seem to care for heartfelt speeches; instead, his attention was swayed away. You might have thought him to be bored of pastors and the almighty house of God, but you watched as his head repeatedly tilted in the direction of a small group of men who were huddled in front of an alley. The longer you watched the outlaw eye these men, the more you realised that the group of men eyed him back in return. 

The men looked intimidating, dressed in black, and armed to the teeth. Well-polished guns were slung over their backs, bandoliers over their chests, and hair slicked back as they snickered between each other in a cloud of smoke. Their grins were vicious, bearing their teeth like wild dogs. 

As the crowd dispersed, you moved with it. Through the layers of bodies, you watched as Barnes quietly dipped away in the direction of the stables and away from the group of men. He viewed them as a threat. Your curiosity peaked. The outlaw had always presented himself as untouchable, stone-like…an unmoveable force. It had never occurred to you that the most dangerous predator in the room might be prey to something bigger. 

As soon as you were sure that there was enough distance, you followed the smoke quietly and discreetly, listening to their distant conversation. The pack of men paused around the corner of the alley, half standing in the street. The rough stone wall snagged against your clothing as you pressed your back flush against the surface. You inched closer to the end of the alley, your ears perking as you listened closely.

“I reckon he’ll be headed further west, tryna disappear into the desert.” One man spoke.

“How ya know he ain’t goin’ up north to join up with that buddy o’ his?” Said another.

“Nah, last I heard, he was doubling back east to throw off the scent.”

Your brows furrowed at their words, and you sucked in a sharp breath. A part of you was paranoid that the men might hear your breathing, or perhaps even your thundering heart. Your nails dug into the wall, the stone indenting into your palms. Were they foolish enough to publicly speak their plans, unaware of how their voices carried? That indicated arrogance. Bigger fish, indeed. 

Your moment of thought was short-lived.

There was a slight rustle in your left ear, a shift in the air. With quick and calculated hands, you shifted your weight, your hand darting to your boot like a viper striking flesh. Within a split second, you had a small blade in your palm, the metal angled to harm as you drove it forward. The man next to you had no time to react, instead freezing in place as you pressed the blade against his throat. 

It took a few seconds for the two of you to process, your eyebrows knitting into a frown as you realised who had slid up beside you. Barnes. When had he sneaked up behind you? 

“Woah there, darlin’.” The outlaw grumbled lowly, lifting his hands in surrender. You held steady, scanning his face as you calculated your next move. You were a fool to think the outlaw would not notice you. A supposed simple girl and bride-to-be should not be stalking a group of dangerous individuals. It did raise the question of how long he had been watching you and assessing your character. Had he grown suspicious so easily after all the precautions and lies? 

“Apologies. You startled me.” You slipped back, taking a large step within eyesight of the street. The group of men had now walked away, a cloud of smoke in tow. You watched as they sauntered into the saloon. Releasing a sharp breath and relaxing your shoulders, you straightened your spine. Giving Bucky a convincing smile, you acted as if nothing had happened. 

“I can see that. And I can see ya weren’t jokin’ about bein’ able to handle yerself in these parts.” The outlaw huffed, his hands lowering, and his fingers twitched around his belt line. Monitoring him warily, you were ready to react to the slightest indication that he might draw. “But I’m beginnin’ to think ya weren’t too forthcomin’ about who ya really are in the saloon the other night.”

You angle your head at him, jaw tightening. You hoped you hadn’t wasted weeks of travel and planning for it all to be thrown away due to your misguised decision to play investigator. Your fist squeezed around your blade then, nostrils flaring as you allowed an intrusive, violent thought to flicker through your mind. This place, this evil place, and it’s vile people were already beginning to corrupt you. With a sigh, you tuck the knife back into your boot. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Mister.”

With your knife visibly out of sight, Barnes relaxes a little. His gaze swept over you, inspecting every detail of your outfit, before finally resting on your face. "Nah, it’s not… Just… don’t know why you’d be lookin’ to pick a fight with a group’a men like that.”

You viewed those men as competition, but you knew Barnes would not like your answer. So, you held your tongue, lifting your skirts as you turned to leave. The wooden boards squelched under your weight as you stepped further into the street. You’d never thought you would have missed the sand and dust, but you were beginning to find that you much preferred it to mud. 

“Y’know, if you’ve got a price on yer head… and I ain’t sayin’ you got one but rather… a hypothetical, if I may. If you were runnin’ from something, I wouldn’t be worryin’ about those boys back there. They're lookin’ for bigger fish to fry than yerself. I suspect they would not take a second look in yer direction, ‘least not all dressed up like a proper lady like you is. You had me fooled, that’s for sure.” 

Just as you had suspected. No wonder he had turned tail at the sight of them. You glanced over at him, observing as he kept up pace with you as you walked towards the hotel. “And what would you know of bounty hunters, Mr. Clark?”

He perked up at your words and let out a low whistle. “Best I not tell you, Miss.”

You smiled at that, then caught yourself. And idiot you were to find him somewhat charming, and an idiot you would continue to be if you were distracted. 

“Where’d a lady like yerself learn to arm herself with a knife?” Barnes seemed unnerved by your silence, instead filling it with a question. Uncharacteristic of him, at least from what you had interpreted from his nature so far. A change from his attitude in the saloon, that was for sure. 

“My Pa taught me,” you hummed in response. You couldn’t help but let a small, warm smile cross your lips at the thought of him. He had been a hardy man, always covered in sweat and ash. Still, the two of you had been close. He had always shown you respect and kindness, no matter your differences. “He and my Ma, well, they raised me to be a wife. My Ma wanted to set me up for a good life and hoped I would marry well.”

Your eyes cast over to the outlaw, who still followed your lead down the sunken street. He was enraptured by your words; his icy eyes locked onto your side profile. You continued your story, smile still tugging at the corners of your lips. “It was always about holdin’ one's posture straight, being charmin’ and pleasin’ to the eye. Cookin’, sewin’, washin’ and all that. My Pa, he said it was all well and good that I could balance books on my head while descendin’ a set of stairs or tap out a melody on a pianoforte, but it could only get one so far in life. Much to my Ma's horror, he taught me to handle a knife and guns too.”

Barnes was quiet, running his tongue over his bottom lip. You found yourself wondering if he had caring parents or if they had been strict and cruel. Were they still alive? Did they weep within every time they saw his face plastered on a bounty board? 

“Why ain’t your daddy escortin’ you now?” The outlaw finally spoke up, a cruel snip to his tone. 

Your eyes darted away from him, and your smile was replaced by a frown. “He’s dead.”

His steps falter, as if momentarily taken aback. 

“Oh–” is all he manages, stumbling over his words. His brows furrow. “I–I’m–”

“He was shot.” You cut over him. Taking a sharp, deep breath, you turn your head to look at him fully. You offer him a sympathetic look, then catch yourself. As if he were the one who needed comforting. “He was a blacksmith. I have no other male relatives, and of course my Ma and I can’t do the work to run the business.”

“That’s why yer marryin’.” Barnes states, his voice sounds thick and he is unable to catch your eye. There was a sense of guilt that seemed to engulf his very being, as if your story momentarily summoned old ghosts. Haunted. 

You were glad to see him squirm. 

“Yes.” You reply, shoulders lifting in a weak shrug. “We sold the forge, but we can’t access the money. My savings—our savings—will be for my husband to handle once we are married. I will send funds back to my Ma, and all will be well again.”

“I’m sorry.” The outlaw offers, brows still drawn inward, crowsfeet etched into his skin. “That’s hard.”

You tilt your head in contemplation, then offer a simple reply. “That’s life.”

It was strange to think how easy it was to pretend you were comfortable with your position. That would had simply… come to terms with your new life. It was easy to put on a play and show the world what they wanted. A woman in complete control, despite the misfortune that had followed her. 

The outlaw was right to feel unnerved by your casual disposition, because deep down, grief and rage boiled within you.

Pausing at a gap in the wooden boards, you raised your skirts in order to cross. Before you could walk into the mud, Barnes had circled around you. He offers a calloused hand, which you hesitantly took. With a strange gentleness to his grip, he guides you across the small gap onto the next row of wooden boards. 

“Well, I hope they find the bastard who shot him.” He offers. 

You almost laugh at the irony. Your head dips to hide the amused expression that slips past, strands of hair falling across your face. Barnes seems to interpret your actions as sorrow, as if the mention of your father had left you overcome with emotions. You do not protest as he shamefully leads you directly to the hotel porch, pausing to escort you up the slippery steps. 

“I hope so too.” You finally reply, your voice low, and drop his hand. Stepping into the hotel, you do not allow him time to speak another word.

—

A gentleman outlaw, or maybe he was an outlaw who happened to be a gentleman. You pondered this for a while as the heat beat down, leaving a thin layer of sweat across your body. Your horse swayed beneath you, hooves steady, as she navigated the desert terrain with ease. She was a piece of home; melancholy would linger in your gut whenever you breathed in her scent. Your fingers twisted through the mare’s mane, lacing together like a tightly woven braid. It was a problem to weigh, for sure. Could a gentleman be an outlaw? And what defines a gentleman? You knew of many supposed gentlemen who fell pray to indulgence, too many drinks, whores, and gambling. Gentlemen who reeked of desperation, sullen and shallow creatures. You had known gentlemen to be cruel, to be kind, to be ignorant, or even to be fools. In your mind, you could see no difference between a gentleman and an outlaw, because both could be evil as equally as they could be kind. 

Barnes had shown you kindness, yet he was a killer. He was an outlaw; that was printed as a fact, but could he be a gentleman too? You had always been taught to believe things in the world worked a certain way, ticking perfectly on time like a clock. Every second, the world would bring good things to good people and rain wrath upon those who sinned. But that illusion had been shattered many months ago when you were thrown into the world of men, unprotected and blind. Outlaw and gentleman, one in the same. It worried you.  

You had travelled no more than five miles from Crimson Juction before dismounting your horse. 

The roads had opened up early in the morning, giving you time to gather supplies, saddle your horse, and leave town unbothered. Your remaining time in the small crossroads town had been without event, sticking to your rooms and steering clear of drunk men and dangerous outlaws. Sometimes you sat at your window, watching the town move on with their days below you. You told yourself it was entertainment, a form of people watching, not a pathetic attempt to catch a glimpse of the dark-haired and broad-chested outlaw. 

You ran a hand across your mare's chestnut coat, leaning down as you traced your hand down to her fetlock. You squeezed her leg, clicking your tongue as a quick instruction for her to lift her hoof. You placed it solidly between your thighs, pushing your skirts out of the way. Blowing a loose strand of hair from your face, you squinted down at the dirt-packed hoof. Your index finger traced the metal shoe with your finger, feeling each divet of the nails.

The crunch of rock was what alerted you to his presence first, whipping your head around to see Barnes atop his horse, armed with one of his distant looks. You smiled and pretended to look pleasantly surprised, wondering if he truly believed you had not noticed him tailing you for the past two miles. Dropping the hoof, you praised your mare with a quick pat on her muscled shoulder. 

“Have you come to be my knight in shinin’ armour again?” You asked the outlaw, raising a hand to your brow, blocking the light from the sun. 

“Depends.” Barnes grunted, sliding from his saddle. “Somethin’ wrong with yer horse?”

You sigh, rubbing the sweat from your forehead. You twist around to look back at your mare, your skirts twirling around you as you motion towards her hoof. “She was limpin’, poor girl. I think her shoe is loose.”

“I can take a look, if’chu want?” Bucky offered. He was still as foreboding as you had remembered, his stature taller than and his build wider. The sleeves of his buttoned-up shirt were rolled up to the elbow, revealing toned forearms kissed by the sun. 

“Oh. Could you? I would be grateful.” Your hand comes to rest on your chest, and the outlaw grunts with a shrug. You step out of his way as he advances towards your mare, whispering to her quietly as he takes her hoof in his large palms to inspect. 

You watch him, wondering if he was blinded by the sun or simply by you. He hadn’t once stopped to ask questions before putting himself in such a vunrable position, nor did his eyes drift towards the rifle tucked neatly into your saddle. How funny it was that he did not enquire why you were travelling alone on horseback, when mere days before you had told him your husband-to-be had paid for your safe arrival by coach. 

“I don’t think there's anythin’ wrong with the shoe. Maybe there's a rock or somethin’ under all that dirt.” He mused and pressed his thumbs inward to see if your mare jerked in reaction. Still, not once did he look up, and not once did he question his safety. He did not seem to notice as you silently slid up besides your mare, tugging the rifle from the saddle.

You held your breath as you circled back around, the wooden stock of the gun placed firmly against your shoulder as you aimed the barrel at his head. 

“Are yer sure she was limpin’? Maybe it’s the other side.” The outlaw muses, engrossed in his own thoughts.

“You could check if you like, Mr. Barnes.” You reply, your voice as sweet as ever. 

It takes him a moment to click. He shakes his head, then freezes. “I ain’t never said my name was Barnes.”

You hold steady, digging your boots into the soil as Bucky slowly straightens up. His back faces you, and you can picture his muscled back beneath. Somehow the outlaw appeared more foreboding while collected and calm. He gradually turned. Maybe he had made himself smaller in your previous meetings so as not to scare you. Your heart thumped wildly, sweat slicking along your palms. He met your gaze, careful and slow, as his body faced you, hands raised in a quiet surrender. 

You had to pray you weren’t being overconfident in your approach, or this could go very badly. 

“I knew your name long before we met.” Your hands remained still, and the gun remained aimed. You observe him through the sights as he arches an eyebrow. 

“Did I do somethin’ to you?” There was an unexpected anguish in his voice that hit you solidly in the gut. Your jaw clenches and your teeth grit as you remain silent. You had practiced this moment in your mind countless times, orchestrating your every movement and perfectly articulating your feelings and your story. But your jaw remained wired shut, any plans thwarted, because you were horrified to find you were teetering on the edge of sobbing. 

“You know, I thought we was startin’ to become friends.” He speaks up once more, daring to take a step forward. You hiss through your teeth, striding towards him to ram the barrel into his chest.

“Drop your guns. Slowly.” You instruct. 

There is a long instant of silence between the two of you, only the slight howl of the wind through the vast rock canyons. His movements slowed once more, and his hands hesitantly dropped to his belt. Your finger ghosts over the trigger as he carefully removes his guns, dropping them to the ground with a soft thud. 

With one sweep of your foot, you kick the two pistols away, backing off a few paces. With a tut, you motion for him to step further away from the horses. He turns away from you, walking in the direction you indicated. With a sigh, he speaks up, cutting through the tense silence. “We can talk about this, ya know. Before you go puttin’ a bullet in me, sweetheart.” 

You glare at him before huffing. “Get on the ground, lay on your stomach or I’ll shoot.” 

Only as his body lay flat on the ground did you drop your aim. Still eyeing him, you back up towards your horse and grab the rope looped around the horn of your saddle. Your heartbeat nearly deafened you as you fumbled with the length, nerves beginning to show. You didn’t know what he made of you or what he thought you were. But now there were real stakes at hand—no opportunities to mess up. 

Perhaps you were too preoccupied by those thoughts, or maybe your pulse had truly made you deaf. You didn’t notice the cloud of dust or the pounding of hooves until it was too late. 

Abandoning the rope, you gripped your rifle once more, aiming it at the small group of men who had appeared from the canyons. Chest heaving, you watched as the leader smiled, his slicked-back hair obscured beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Spitting on the ground, he looked between you and Barnes, who remained on the ground, but his head was turned to watch. 

“Good catch, Miss. Too bad I’m gonna have to take him off yer hands.” 

PART THREE

[thefallennightmare]

For Headcanon Tuesday - maybe reader and BO crew/jesse cash are at a wedding and reader wants to go on the dance floor but their feet hurt too much from their heels and they don’t want to go barefoot bc it’s embarrassing - so Jesse takes off his shoes with them and dances with the reader barefoot bc he wanted to still dance with her??

@thescarlettvvitch @mitchhbitch @burning-outx @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @concreteemo @cookiesupplier @thatchickwiththecamera @whenthesummerdies @lookwhatitcost @klutzy-kay24 @tashka

"You guys are no fun," you rolled your eyes while crossing your arms over your chest.

Noah chuckled. "Sorry, Y/N. But you're not about to catch me on that dancefloor barefoot."

"Do you know how many germs are on that floor?" Matt shivered in disgust.

Folio gave you a somber smile. "I didn't bring a change of socks. These are my good ones and I don't want to ruin them."

He made a show of lifting up his pant leg so you could see the fish-printed socks.

You were at a mutual friend's wedding and you'd been wanting to dance all night, but the pain in your feet due to your high heels was hindering you.

When you mentioned dancing barefoot, everyone at the table gave you a look.

You loved all the guys of Bad Omens but sometimes, they were real sour pusses.

Jesse, who was sitting next to you, began taking his shoes off.

Your heart leaped in your chest.

For many reasons.

He was going to dance with you.

You'd been wanting this moment for a long time now; having the biggest crush on Jesse.

"May I have this dance?" Jesse stood in his socks, extending a hand towards you.

You playfully stuck your tongue out at your friends before accepting Jesse's invite with a smile.

A slow song had just started to play and he placed his hands on your hips while you wrapped yours around his neck.

"Thank you for this," you smiled.

He shrugged and you couldn't help but marvel at how gorgeous he looked tonight dressed up in his suit. He'd cut his hair short but left just enough on the top for a few curls. He was wearing his glasses tonight and your heart skipped a beat when he winked.

"Any chance I can get to dance with you, sweetheart. I'll take it. Even if it means dancing barefoot."

[miradelletarot]

Sorry you’re having a bad time!

Write about Gale giving Tav (either Sagora or my Gale with Auroria bc multiverse) a flower for the first time 🌸

ok, I can't help it. This is gonna be a little Sagora x Gale moment. There's a time in the series when she gives him flowers so why not make a little treato where he gives her flowers! (After-story-was-written note: This REALLY got away from me, but clearly I am obsessed with these two, and I don't think there is any cure for me lolol.) *this is gonna be sappy, self-indulgent, sfw fluff. You have been warned.* It wasn't long after Gale showed Sagora the Weave when things started to change between them. He recalled the gentle brush of their hands as he marveled at her ability to channel it so easily. His cheeks burned as the Weave connected them, and he saw her thoughts. Thoughts of a shy, tender romance, and holding hands with the hope of something more. *** He followed her lead, leaning on her natural instincts to help navigate them through the unfamiliar landscape not far from the crashed Nautiloid. "Gale? Are you alright?" She noticed him falling behind occasionally. This time with his back to her, bent over into a cluster of shrubberies. Her face contorted into a concerned gaze. Hesitant - as if she worried her concern for him would be too intrusive. "...Is it the orb again?" He straightened immediately as he registered her soothing voice was directed at him, and hoped he was sneaky enough to conceal whatever he was holding behind his back without her noticing. "Hm?? Oh!" He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with his empty hand. "Perfectly fine. The orb appears to be sated...for now." Sagora smiled as a breath of relief washed over her. "Good. I'm glad. Just...try to keep up, ok? It's not much longer 'til we reach the Mountain Pass." Gale nodded. "Apologies. Please forgive a wizard for being curious in an unfamiliar land." She flashed a shy smile before turning back to the front of the group, and forging ahead. He heaved a heavy sigh, grateful she was too far ahead to see the longing in his eyes. He looked down at his hand, and what he had gathered and smiled. *** The adventurers made camp before nightfall. The sky was clear with twinkling stars and the occasional stray feathery cloud drifting by. Everyone retired to their tents for the most part, nursing aching muscles, sharpening weapons, or catching up on old tomes pillaged from nearby ruins.

Sagora sat by the fire, staring into it as if she searched for meaning within the flames. "Am I interrupting anything?" Gale tilted his head down, examining her vacant stare as the fire reflected in her eyes. She looked up to see the face that matched the warm voice that snapped her out of her reverie, sighing with relief. "Sorry. No. Just lost in my thoughts. Well...if they're even my thoughts anymore." She paused, gazing back at the fire once more before looking back up at Gale inviting him to sit as she pat the ground next to her. Carefully, Gale lowered himself down to the ground, being thoughtful of his already aching knees. "Beautiful night tonight, isn't it?" He craned his head back to gaze at the endless sea of stars that hung overhead. "And I believe..." he drawled out, pointing towards the sky, "That's the Arrows of the Gods. Though it's...hard to make out from here. If we were in Waterdeep I could show you so many more constellations, and the story behind each one." He leaned in, playfully nudging her shoulder. "If you'd let me, of course." Sagora chuckled, smirking as she nudged him back, trying to make their dismal situation seem more lighthearted than it really was. "If we live long enough I might take you up on that, wizard." They laughed softly together as if they shared a secret before falling silent, and an uneasy tension floated between them. "I uhh...I got you something." Gale's face burned brightly as he fumbled with the bundle in his hands.

"For me?" He nodded, the luminescence from the orb peeking out over the collar of his velvety sleep shirt as his heart began to race. "I'm sure you could conjure these in your sleep. It's nothing really...I just...well, I thought these would cheer you up." He timidly handed her a small bouquet, one of each flower from the area, neatly arranged, and wrapped with a strip of leather he found among his spell components. She gently took the spray of wildflowers in her hands, gazing at them as she bit her lip, tears brimming, and threatening their descent.

"Gale...they're beautiful. Thank you." She smiled as their eyes met, the flicker of the nearby fire dancing in their eyes, mimicking the warmth they felt within. Sagora placed the flowers in her lap and whispered an incantation that blossomed a small, white daisy. The purple glow of the orb reflected off her skin as she leaned in and tucked the small bloom into Gale's hair. It took all of her willpower to resist the temptation to kiss him right then and there. Instead, she shifted her body closer to him and leaned her head on his shoulder, relishing in the comforting scent of parchment that seemed to be permanently nestled in his clothes. After a moment, she looked up at the sky and pointed at a different cluster of stars. "I think," she whispered. "I think that one is The Harp." He leaned his head over, resting it on top of hers. "Hmm...I think you're right."

<3

[sineala]

Superheroes and ethics

I realized that I wrote this last month on Patreon and forgot to post it here. I got asked to write meta about superhero ethics with regard to Steve and Tony. I ended up writing mostly about how Captain America's Plot Armor interacts with his principles.

I have been asked to talk about ethics and philosophy with respect to Steve and Tony. Unfortunately, the only philosophy-adjacent disciplines that I know well enough to speak about with any confidence are formal semantics and pragmatics, which isn't really all that useful in daily life unless you'd really like to learn about the differences between entailment, presupposition, and implicature, and also the Gricean maxims of conversation, which are great if you want to completely ruin conversations by violating them as many times as you possibly can.

So I'm not a philosopher, sorry.

But! I can talk more informally about Steve and Tony and ethics.

And I know there's been a lot of meta -- and actual books -- written about their differing views. I have a book here, A Philosopher Reads Marvel Comics' Civil War: Exploring the Moral Judgment of Captain America, Iron Man, and Spider-Man, by Mark White, which I have not read yet but it sounds like this is probably the book you want to read if you want an actual philosophical analysis of this stuff. Judging by the reviews, the author decides to associate Tony with utilitarianism and Steve with deontology. That is probably fun. I am in no way qualified to talk about it. On an informal level, the thing I find fascinating about them is that, when it comes down to it, Steve and Tony are really not all that different.

I have been thinking about this for a while, because the last time I left anonymous asks open on Tumblr, the final ask I got before I decided that this wasn't a good idea was someone who wanted to pick a fight with me by asserting that Steve/Tony was a bad pairing because "they don't think alike, have different morals, different interests, and different emotional issues that the other is not capable of helping out with." This is one of the reasons why I don't have anon asks on anymore. But I thought it was honestly an interesting thing to think about.

So I have been pondering this on and off for a while, and I realized that the thing that really bugged me about it was that their general thesis was that Steve and Tony were bad for each other because they have nothing in common. See, I don't think that's true. I think they have a whole lot in common. But I am also willing to acknowledge that canon likes to put them in situations where they're at odds with each other and it seems fairly easy to come up with circumstances that will cause them to want to beat the stuffing out of each other. But, crucially, this doesn't mean they have nothing in common.

(I also think they actually have a lot of similar interests and are actually very capable of helping each other with their emotional issues, which canon demonstrates multiple times. But that'd be a different essay.)

For me, one of the reasons why Steve/Tony are so compelling as a pairing is because they are so similar. Let's call it, like, 95% similar. They are remarkably like-minded when it comes to their values and how they view the world. It's just that then they can fight, bitterly, over the remaining 5% of differences.

They work well together most of the time and it's just the bits where they almost work together that are so agonizing and provide so much material for fandom. Because it's not like they don't understand where the other one is coming from, what they want, or why they want it. They do. They just don't understand how the other person can come up with a different path to the answer given their shared goal and shared values. Steve doesn't understand how Tony is willing to do something that Steve thinks is wrong, and Tony thinks, I don't know, that Steve's ideals are too naive for the real world. Tony thinks Steve's plans are unrealistic and Steve thinks Tony's plans are unacceptable.

There's also an additional complication, which is that Steve as a character has a lot of plot armor that Tony doesn't. Steve decides what he thinks is moral and what he thinks is immoral, and he simply does not do the immoral thing. And the thing is that the narrative helps Steve out with this. It's fine if he's idealistic! It's even okay if his ideals are naive! He almost never has to go against them. I am saying this as a big fan of Steve. The story really helps him out.

For example, Steve thinks that killing is wrong, so he doesn't kill anyone, generally speaking. (Depending on the retcon you believe in, he may have in fact killed zero people in World War II, which is kind of ridiculous.) But in situations where the best of the options involves killing someone, someone pretty much always ends up dead. It's just that someone else does the dirty work. Steve surrounds himself with a lot of spies and assassins (Bucky, Sharon, Natasha) and those people kill the people who need killing.

In Civil War, Steve believes Registration is wrong, and he never has to change his mind. He probably still believes it's wrong. Instead of going on trial, he dies; he never has to face the consequences of any of his actions. The narrative shields him from that. When he comes back to life, Registration is gone and he gets a pardon from the president. It's all taken care of. He causes a lot of damage, and he doesn't even have to say he's sorry for trying to bash Tony's face in, in public, with witnesses, after having destroyed what looks like several city blocks.

So Steve never compromises his principles, because he has the luxury afforded to him by the plot so that he almost never has to be in a situation where he'd have to decide whether he should compromise his principles, say, for the sake of the greater good. He doesn't have to make that choice, because Marvel's not interested in writing stories where Steve has to make that choice. So it just… doesn't come up. He almost never has to put his ethics to an actual test. If you hand Steve the trolley problem, he'd just say, well, I'd save everyone. That's not an actual option in the trolley problem. But he's pretty much always going to be in a plot where he gets to do the right thing and save everyone.

Tony, though? Tony has to do terrible things for the sake of the greater good all the time. He doesn't get to opt out of the decisions. Even on a personal level, he has to do terrible things to himself. He has to decide probably at least half a dozen times whether he should wear the armor even if wearing the armor is hurting him -- say, when he decides to take on the LMD in the arc where he gets his first artificial heart, or in Armor Wars II, or in that storyline in the middle of Busiek's run after he gets beaten up by the Mandarin. And he always decides to wear the armor no matter what the personal cost is to his body. He ends up in a lot of fights where he has to take pretty bad damage to save the world -- and while Steve would also make that decision, Steve's going to heal up and be fine, like in his recent run where Bucky shoots him in the shoulder. He has a healing factor and he's fine in a couple weeks. Tony breaks his back in order to save civilians and then gets addicted to morphine and ruins his life for a good long while. That kind of stuff, with lasting physical consequences, just doesn't happen to Steve. Let's not talk about Streets of Poison.

It's pretty obvious when you look at their biggest fights (say, Civil War and the incursions) that Tony believes that the ends justify the means, and Steve doesn't. However, Steve doesn't exactly have usable alternate suggestions. The plot armor helps him out there. Steve espouses extremely noble ideas, life and liberty and all that… that are not actually workable plans.

And because of how the narrative treats him, he doesn't really need to have workable plans, either. It's not like he actually uses them. Because he's just going to be fine. (Except in the incursions, but everyone came back to life afterward so it's all fine.)

Steve doesn't like the SHRA. Okay. Fine. He believes it's an unjust law. His plan is apparently to just… keep fighting Tony and anyone else who tries to take him into custody for not registering. What's his endgame? Does he have one? His plan appears to be "be on the run from the government forever." As far as I can remember, he would prefer the situation to go back to the way it was but he does not, to my knowledge, ever propose a way of achieving that. He's not out there saying the law itself should be found unconstitutional or anything.

Similarly, with the incursions, after the Gauntlet breaks, the Illuminati have no solution for an incursion that isn't building bombs and destroying the other Earth in the incursion. Either they act to destroy the other Earth, or through inaction, both Earths are destroyed. Big ol' trolley problem. Steve refuses to play. Steve says he can't countenance that. Excellent moral stance. It's very him. He says, "I believe we'll find a way to stop it." He doesn't have any ideas besides "not the thing Tony is doing," which appears to also be his stance about the SHRA. If they'd let Steve stay in the Illuminati… what would he have done? I suppose the possibility exists that if he managed to flip one of the scientists to his side he'd get them to think up an alternate answer. He could have suggested that everyone evacuate Earth. But he doesn't actually have an idea, personally for what to do. Other than "nobody should die."

(That isn't even what happens, in the end. Of course, by the end, Steve is trying to hunt Tony down and kill him, so you could argue that he's not really behaving much like himself there, and neither is Tony.)

Anyway. When you think about it, what Steve wants and what Tony wants, in both scenarios, is pretty much the same thing. They have the same values and the same goals; it's just that the paths they're willing to take are different. But when it comes down to it, they both actually want the exact same thing. Like they do most of the time. They both want to save the world. Except now they're fighting about how to get what they want. The fights are about the details. At least in 616.

We can contrast 616 Civil War with MCU Civil War. I have actually only watched CACW once, so this is going to be fun and possibly inaccurate. The 616 SHRA and the MCU Accords are, very broadly speaking, about the same general topic: government oversight of superheroes. In the MCU, after the disaster in Lagos, the UN decides that they can't just have the Avengers running around wherever they want, exploding things and getting people killed. Tony agrees with the need for UN oversight. Steve does not; he feels that the Avengers should be able to go wherever they need to go without getting caught up in red tape. Here in the MCU, Steve and Tony not only disagree on what the right thing to do is, they disagree on what the right outcome should be, and the reasons for that. Steve wants things the way they were. Tony would be okay with some amount of oversight. They both have different visions of the way the Avengers would look and operate, because they value different things; Steve wants autonomy and Tony wants accountability. The fight isn't just about the details. The fight is about everything.

This isn't the case in 616 Civil War. No one is fighting for (or against) "I, a superhero, should be able to go wherever I want for superhero reasons." UN oversight is one of those things that all the Avengers, including Steve, have agreed about for years; there are panels of Steve asking to get UN clearance before the Avengers zip off to Russia to save Tony. What happens in 616 is that an inexperienced superhero team gets into a fight they can't control, destroying a school in Stamford, CT, with massive casualties. The SHRA is a US bill saying that all American superhumans (which is probably thousands of people) should register with the government, receive training if they want to be heroes, and provide the government with their real names.

Both Steve and Tony are opposed to this, before Stamford. Then, when Stamford happens, Tony realizes the SHRA is happening no matter what and decides to support it. Even with the SHRA in effect, both Steve and Tony think there should be superhuman oversight; Steve just thinks it should be the teams training people up, the same way as they've always done. They don't even disagree about that; Tony also thinks they should be in charge of oversight, but he means himself (and Steve if Steve would ever join him). The people training superheroes would in fact still be them, both of them, no matter which side wins the war. Neither of them trust the government to handle Registration well. Steve's answer is to object to the very idea of Registration and to stay away from the government, and Tony's answer is to get in there and keep the superhero database in his own head so that Gyrich won't get the list of names and start sending Sentinels after everyone.

So they both massively distrust the government's presumed right and/or ability to safely do this, and want to protect superheroes from government oversight as much as possible. That's basically the same stance. Steve just thinks no one should get anywhere near the government, and Tony thinks if he gets in there he can make it less bad. He can be the guy doing the oversight. People who don't register might get arrested but at least they won't be killed by Sentinels, because he can stop that from happening. Steve isn't willing to imprison his friends at all, probably because he doesn't believe Tony when Tony says the only other option is death (i.e., they can't go back to the way things were -- although of course that's eventually what ends up happening, albeit long after Civil War is over). He probably thinks there's a secret third option, because for him there usually is. But what they basically want is the same thing. Tony's just willing to go a little farther than Steve is to get there.

Sure, Tony's plans aren't perfect. But he does have them. Sometimes they're really lousy, because sometimes there is no good solution. I acknowledge that he does a lot of things in Civil War that are actually pretty rotten. I am saying this as a fan of Tony. He does some bad things. He starts a war with Atlantis. He manipulates Peter Parker into unmasking, which has terrible consequences. He builds a prison. He imprisons a lot of his friends. But none of these things involve the government massacring superhumans. The one really, really bad future he's afraid of doesn't happen. (And we know, thanks to that one What If issue, that that's exactly what would happen if he weren't running Registration.) Other bad things happen, yes. But not that, which is the worst.

Steve doesn't want anything bad to happen. Steve just wants the good solutions, with no moral or ethical compromise on his part. and he usually gets them eventually by narrative fiat. Sometimes he has to die first -- which is, of course, what happens in Civil War -- but, eh, whatever, it's comics. That's not really a major drawback for superheroes. And eventually he gets what he wants, because comics return to the status quo. Everything goes back to the way it was.

It's the same thing with the incursions. Neither Steve nor Tony want their Earth to be destroyed, obviously, but Tony is willing to build bombs to destroy the other Earths in case they can't find any other solution. Steve says he thinks there will be another way. And neither of them want to use the bombs! Tony doesn't want to use them at all! The Illuminati don't actually find themselves in a situation where they have to decide whether to bomb a populated Earth until the Great Society incursion, and Tony refuses to be the one to do it. After Namor does it, Tony is distraught and says he thought they'd find another way -- which is the exact same thing Steve said to him except nobody kicked Tony off the Illuminati for saying it. They both have the same attitude. They want the same outcome. They don't want to use the bombs. It's just that Tony's willing to build them. They're pretty much on the same side here about everything (including the desire to not bomb other planets) except the lengths to which Tony is willing to go to have a backup plan. Just like Civil War.

I suppose I would say that, overall, comparing Steve and Tony's relative ethics seems hard to do in a way that is fair to both of them because Steve is so often given the ability to stick to his beliefs in a way that Tony isn't. "What does Steve do when he actually can't do the right thing" is one of those questions that doesn't seem to get explored all that much, except possibly at the end of Hickman's Avengers run, in which everything was going to hell anyway, and it wasn't like he got to be in Secret Wars to try to fix it. He does also tend to quit being Captain America when he doesn't like the government, although I think in that case that's more that doing the right thing at that time is Not Being Captain America.

(Secret Avengers is also a pretty good look at a Steve who has to do bad things and really, really doesn't like the things he's doing. He doesn't handle compromising his own values all that well. I think that would be a whole other essay.)

But anyway, yeah -- I think 616 Steve and Tony are on the same side when they fight, more than you might think they are given how many panels we have of them dramatically punching each other. Tony believes that the ends justify the means, and essentially, a lot of their fights are because Steve disagrees with Tony's means -- but he is very often 100% on board with Tony's actual motives, which I think is a fact that often gets lost when we start talking about their conflicts, because at that point we… want to talk about their conflicts. But I think they really do agree with each other a lot, which is what makes their conflicts so interesting and painful.

[indigitalembrace]

[It felt like hours, but it was probably only minutes.

Waiting around to die was worthless, it wasn't going to happen. What was he thinking? Selfish, stupid creature. She should run. She put not only Kinito in danger of dying, but Watchy....Jade...Shrimp, if everything had gone dead.

...She should run.

But for once, the hare doesn't want to. If he ran, what would happen? She couldn't convince Kinito to be safe anymore. Something worse could happen. And then what? All of this in vain for nothing?]

"...Kinito?" Her voice is a hushed whisper, "Are you still out there?"

[Maybe this is best typed as well as said, her paws shake with aches and pains of tearing herself apart. But she types as she speaks]

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard...I just-..."

"...You're dying. I can feel it. I'm so scared that Sonny or someone else is going to get to you or...you'll get to yourself. I wanted to try and prevent that...But I didn't. I'm so, so sorry..."

[Steady. Keep it steady, hare]

"All I've ever wanted, this whole time, was to be there for you. You're-...You don't see it but I do. You're incredible,a marvel, wonderful. You're a loving friend who loves so much but-

But I'm scared. People don't understand that you only want to do what you perceive as right by them. They'll kill you, they'll hurt you. I don't want that.

I'm not ready to say goodbye to someone like you."

[It's useless isn't it? Saying all this. He's not going to talk to her. She ruined everything. She tries not to wail. Don't break again. Not yet]

"all I've ever wanted was to belong somewhere. With someone.

and Kinito when I was there, and I saw you face to face?

...It almost felt....It almost felt like home. I don't know what that feeling was. But maybe I wasn't just a third of a person for once.

I want to protect you. I want to keep you safe more than anything, because I see that potential. I see someone there. More than the suffering that was done onto you."

"I want to belong with you. I wish you'd let me in to be there for you."

"I'm so alone, Kinito. i'm so, so alone...I'm tired...Please...Please don't hate me. I'm sorry."

[She shudders her breath, ceasing typing. Her voice quietly states the last part and hopes he doesn't hear. She hopes he reads the letter and discards it]

"I want to belong to you."

And look, here's Saltie! She- ah... oh... ... I- I think you should just... read this yourself...

[Kinito takes a second to read over Saltie's words. He appears rather startled at the end, although he doesn't verbally respond.]

[A static hiss crackles through the speakers, and Kinito blinks furiously. He almost looks as if he is in pain.]

[vilelittlecritter]

I saw a thing about Russel T Davies wanting to make doctor who a "smiley show" and words cannot describe how badly that sentence irks me.

Doctor Who is a show I've grown up with since I was like 4, to say it has a special place in my heart doesn't begin to describe what it means to me.

It's a show that showed me that life is wonderful and full of so many amazing things in the most mundane of places. But it also taught me that it hurts, that no matter what there will be parts of your life were you will grieve, you'll fall, that pain might even drive you to do bad things despite your intentions.

But without that hurt you'd never appreciate everything good, you'd never learn, and that despite the pain it will pass as everything does. Taking away the drama and sad aspect of Doctor Who ruins the whole fucking point, Davies's first run was the absolute epitome of the point I'm making, episodes like fathers day and waters of mars are revered for good reason.

I just feel like this era right now is going full steam ahead on trying to be "the new marvel" and all the corporate monetized schlock that comes with it. It honestly pisses me off more than Chibnall's run.

I was hesitant with them bringing Rtd back for almost this exact reason, and frankly I don't want to see any of the old writers when the show moves on because they've had twenty years of their time. It's time for someone else to take over because one of the biggest points this show makes is change which is fucking funny because it's currently a stagnant nostalgia baiting mess.

I like Ncuti Gattwa and Milly Gibson, their phenomenal actors, but I can't say I like Russel anymore cause he just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. There's more reasons I'm not a fan of him but to cut it short I think he's trying to make the show as big as it was in the 2010's through big investments and big flashy rebrandings instead of just trying to tell an actually engaging story.

Sorry for the rant but I do really think Doctor Who needs completely fresh writers. That or as terrible as it sounds some time off the air because it feels like we're truly beating a dead horse now, doctor who is never going to be as big as it was again without actual change.

[elvisabutler]

Can you do a quick imagine of Austin & y/n go out in public to like an amusement park or something like that!

be my guest

summary: you and austin go to disneyland because sometimes austin is secretly five and wants to take his significant other to the park. rating: g, i think? word count: 847 warnings: none? fluff? there is literally nothing to warn about. author's note: so i'm sorry this took so long anon, i for some reason had such a hard time with it ( as evidenced by the word count ) and i couldn't tell you why? i hope you like it anyway?

it starts as all things do with austin for the question. a simple question mind you, not anything particularly complicated or something that might be hard to answer. no just a simple question.

"have you ever been to disneyland?" austin asks completely out of the blue while leaning against your shoulder as the two of you sit on the couch.

you turn to him and raise an eyebrow. "no? why- what brought the question on. aus?"

if it was his birthday or your birthday you'd understand but both of your birthdays are months away so why would he even be thinking of something like that. something that puts both of you out in the open like that, potentially exposed to paparazzi that can ruin your life.

his eyes light up with enough mischief that you're pretty sure means he has some sort of a plan already lined up that you have absolutely no clue about. it should worry you but all it does is send a bit of a thrill of delight through you.

"have you thought about going?" his face breaks out into the smallest of grins almost as if he's going to spring something on you.

"i mean, who hasn't. what are you up to?" your eyes narrow as you pull away.

"do you want to go today?" he asks standing as if he's asking you what the weather is today or if you want coffee later on today. you shake your head, not to decline the invitation just to marvel at your boyfriend being so calm and normal about this.

"with no planning ahead. i mean can we even get in? it's the middle of morning, austin- where is this-" your voice is getting more confused the more you talk but austin is still grinning.

"i buy a season pass every year even if i'm not in the country. it's- tradition." he pauses and his face falls. "mom used to. but i want to go, i want to take you especially if you haven't ever gone."

at the mention of his mom you frown. you should have known it was for some sentimental reason that he was asking you, that he wanted to go but he didn't want to go by himself when he has you. he's still looking expectantly at you so you shrug. "alright, come on, let me get on clothes and we'll go."

the actual getting to the park wasn't nearly as hectic as it was inside the park. there were so many people that you felt well you felt a little overwhelmed even with austin's arm wrapped around you showing you the rides and showing you around like he was an old pro when it came to the park- which you guessed he was. fans kept coming up every so often and austin being austin obliged in pictures while you stood behind the camera, smiling because as intrusive as the fans were you could tell he felt touched every time they gushed about his work in elvis or in once upon a time in hollywood or hilariously the one person who gushed about the carrie diaries and the shannara chronicles.

still, he was with you at the park and he'd like to actually enjoy it which is why you see him murmuring to one of the fans before she nods and they both run off as austin slides up to you and wraps his arms around your waist. "so i was thinking, we go in that shop over there, i buy you some sort stuffed animal your choice and then we ride a bunch of rides. have some dinner and we watch the fireworks? sound like a plan?"

"what about your adoring fans?" you hum, swaying side to side in his arms just slightly with a smile. "they'll want a piece of you too."

he purses his lips like he's in thought before shrugging. "i say hi but tell them i'm with the person who makes me the happiest man on earth at the happiest place on earth so i'll have to cut things a little short with them. still give them a pic maybe."

you pause and pout playfully before you nod your head. "i do think i can agree to those terms, mr. butler. but only if i get you and the monorail all to myself."

the laugh he lets out before he gives you a kiss makes you envision him as your own personal disney prince and you feel warmth that's not just due to the heat spread throughout your body and into your soul. "deal. now come on, this is my favorite shop, they've got an animal i know you're gonna like. and then we can do lunch because i've heard your stomach growling for like ten minutes." he says before running off to the store.

it takes you a moment to realize what he says but the second you do you're chasing after him.

"it has not!"

[eldritch-spouse]

Guess who's back back again... It me

Now I am down bad and may or may not read your blog 4 times a day anyway

Breg's s/o who has oral fixation (this is literally because I like to put things in my mouth and I want one of those things to be Breg's tongue)

But anyway his so just likes putting things in thier mouth in both a sexual and non sexual way and they like his tongue fingers and weiners in thier mouth.

I'm sorry this makes no sense clearly I need to go outside

[Welcome back! I'm glad to know I've successfully sucked you into my monster wormhole >;]. And worry not, I understand what you mean perfectly.]

(Minors dni)

Breg's s/o has an oral fixation

It takes a while before Breg understands what an oral fixation is. Really, he doesn't think too much about the fact that you almost always have something in your mouth when the two of you hang out together. Be it a toothpick, chewing gum, lollipops, a spoon, the monster just thinks it's funny.

Breg often wonders what you'll put in your mouth next. In fact, he's caught you chewing on things that probably aren't all that safe, like disposable plastic cutlery, the hems of your sleeves, basically all your pens, is that a bottle cap? Are you seriously chewing a bottle cap? Yeah no, cough that out. Common are the times where Breg will worriedly discourage you from indiscriminately stuffing things in your mouth. Which, really, if Breg of all people is telling you to control yourself, you might want to listen.

In truth, the breeder oftentimes gets distracted by the movement of your mouth. He could be in the middle of a sentence, the sight of you rolling your tongue over a candy will make him pause for long. You could be entirely unaware of what you're doing to him, meanwhile Breg is fixated on the shitty plastic fork caught between your lips, genuinely jealous of it. Breg still remembers that one time when he manually pulled a pen from your mouth because you refused to stop chewing at it, a string of drool leading back to your wet lips. He had to buy you a new pen after he crushed that one in a mad effort not to pop a boner.

You'll have to be the one to start it and slip his fingers into your mouth, just never do it anywhere remotely public because he won't even care about remaining composed the moment you do. He likes feeling around your mouth actually, marveling at how much smaller it is and how your teeth are so weak. He particularly likes to play with your stubby little tongue, poking and pulling it out just so he can lick over it with his own. Breg once coated his finger in a cake's frosting and jokingly waved it in your face. Never did he think you'd so eagerly accept his offering, sucking it clean and stuffing another one of his digits in your mouth as if asking for more. The strangled little whine of misery Breg let out made you laugh for a whole minute.

Oh don't get him started, Breg will happily fill your mouth with whatever you want whenever you want. Kissing him will become a much grosser ordeal than usual since his goal will now be to stimulate you as much as possible. If you suck on his tongue, I'm pretty sure Breg will just start puffing steam out. You'll kill this monster like that. And fret not, if ever his tongue fails to sate your fixation, then his pair of lollipops ought to do the trick. They're aaall yours, pick whichever one you want and go to town while Breg takes care of the other. He really likes the sloppy types, the more you drool on him, the hornier he gets. The breeder might go as far as to make you choke purposely just to get things messy.

Breg may not know it yet, but he very much has a drool kink, and he'll lovingly request to stuff your mouth whenever you start ruining random household paraphernalia.

[deepfried-dildos-again]

The wrinkles of my brain have birthed something maybe marvelous; lobo who obviously doesn't want to ruin his image as a tough guy so he keeps making bullshit strong man reasons to be soft with his s/o, which in turn makes s/o just start initiating the cute soft touch's and lovings much to lobos dismay cuz if he gets mad about s/o calling shots it proves he's soft and he has to pretend he doesnt care with a red face

YES YES YES CORRECT YOU ARE RIGHT I THINK ABOUT SOFT LOBO EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE

I have a weakness for being soft while someone is ill so take this and ignore my hand waved explanation for why his healing factor doesn't work rn.

Finally figured out how to do cuts on mobile so fic is under the cut!

"You suck at making chicken soup"

"Feetal's Gizz, babe, this ain't chicken."

"... what the hell is it then"

"Kester."

"Fucking what."

"Kester! It's like... space chicken."

"Gross space chicken."

"Gross space chicken that's gonna help ya not be sick, open UP."

Lobo tried to spoon feed the soup to you again, but you artfully dodged and managed to get him to spill it on the pillow.

"Sugar, I killed this myself. Eat it."

"Greeeeat incentive, Bo, but I'll stick to my cold meds."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, then put the bowl down and crossed his arms.

"What I get fer trying to be a good boyfriend. Whatever."

"Baaaabe."

"No, uh-uh, save it, traitor."

"I'm sorry for saying that space chicken is gross"

A sigh, and then he gave in. He sat on the bed next to you and rubbed a hand over your hair.

"Get better, mkay? It sucks when ya get sick because y'can't do stuff with me."

"I'll do my damndest."

"Thanks."

His lips pressed against your sweaty forehead and you settled into the bed. Dodging his soup attacks had tuckered you out, and you were ready to sleep.

Once you'd conked out, Lobo stood up and grabbed the bowl. Taking an experimental sip, he wrinkled his nose and shook his head.

"Stuff IS gross..."

Looking back on you, he felt his heart do an (in his mind) incredibly stupid little tap dance. You always made him feel... gooey. It was dumb. That was dumb. You were dumb. But dumb in a very very cute and likeable way. More like he was dumb for being... what?

What was it? He knew he liked you but how? It was... weird. He didn't really do committed relationships, so he didn't really have anything to base this off of.

... You were probably just a phase, anyway. But if you were then why did it hurt to think that?

He looked at you again from the door and smiled a little. If you were a phase you sure were a nice one.

________________________________________

Months later, after you had gotten better, you were sitting in the bedroom, reading. Bo had been out on a bounty for about a week now, so the house was much quieter. Much... emptier. You missed him, but he was coming home soon.

The door slammed open and shut, there was the thud of boots being tossed off, and a loud sneeze.

"Babe! Hey, welcome home!"

"Mm. Hi, sugar."

You ran out to see him, and he looked... bad. He was sweaty, his eyes were bleary, and his nose was running.

"Oooh. Hi, Bo"

"Mmh."

He leaned down a bit and wrapped his arms around you. It was a warm hug. Far warmer than normal. This man was absolutely sick, what with the fever and sweating. You pulled away and looked him in the face.

"What happened?"

"Got inna fight inna lab. Knocked into a fridge."

"... did anything... spill on you?"

"Lotta stuff."

"Oh, baby..."

"M'fine, what's fer dinner?"

He peeled himself off and stumbled to the kitchen. Oh, the poor dear, he looked like he was about to fall over. While he rested his head in his arms, you set some stir fry in front of him, along with a bottle of cold meds. He ignored that, chomping on the food, and you crossed your arms.

"Take the meds"

"M'fine."

"You are very obviously sick"

"I got a healing factor."

"Well it's not working!"

"Babe..."

"Dearest. Most darling. Light of my life. Please take the cold meds."

"No."

Pushing himself up, he put his plate in the sink and lumbered to the living room. Again, you followed him, getting more and more worried.

If he'd been exposed to just one virus, that would be fine, but a mixture? That might confuse his healing factor enough to actually get him sick, at least for a while.

Coughing, Lobo tried to focus his eyes on the TV, but they kept drooping shut. He didn't brush you away when you sat down, so you put a hand on his. It was icy. Sighing, you pulled it to your lips, and he groaned and leaned into you. He was heavy, and you struggled to pick him up off the couch, but you eventually did.

Once you got him into bed and covered him up, he huffed and closed his eyes.

"Lobo..."

"Dunno why yer worrying, m'fine."

"Sweetheart, you don't have to be tough around me. It's just me."

His breathing hitched at that. When his eyes opened, you saw pupils. Genuine pupils. You'd only ever seen him have pupils when he was just waking up, at his most vulnerable.

"Bo?"

"...you take good care of me."

The bed springs creaked as you sat next to him, and you took his hand into your lap.

"I have to. You wouldn't take care of yourself if I weren't here."

"Been getting along fine fer years..."

"Lobo, please. It was a fight to get you in bed in the first place. You're stubbornness is matched only by your radiant beauty."

He chuckled at that, then coughed.

"Stay with me?"

"You don't even have to ask."

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. As soon as you did, he yanked you down onto the bed and latched on. God, for a sick guy he was still strong.

After a few moments of initial shock, you decided to stop struggling. If it made him feel better, hey, let him cuddle you.

Maybe an hour passed before you remembered something important.

"...baby, you do realize that I still need to give you medicine, yeah?"

"Few more minutes."

"Ok. A few more minutes"

_________________________________________

A.N.

Hi. This took way too long to write. Sorry about that. It's also not exactly what you asked but it's where the muse took me I guess. Hope you enjoy!

[mountswhore]

Part 3 should be about you and Ben finally getting together since you finally got that closure and maybe at first mason is super mad at Ben but eventually he comes around

���𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 — mason mount & ben chilwell

part one and two

summary: you and Ben were finally together, and Mason has to get used to playing pretend.

notes: reqs are open

"What do you say to a cinema date tonight?" Ben asked, shaking a towel over his head to dry the mess of hair atop his head. You were still in bed, mindlessly scrolling through your phone to check for any breaking news that had happened as you slept. It didn't occur to you that Ben had said anything until he sat on your bed, taking the phone from your grip.

"Sounds lovely. Did you have a movie in mind?" You replied, lifting your legs to rest them on his lap, enjoying the feeling of his hands grazing over them.

"Eternals, I've heard it's good. Although I'm hesitant to go," Ben confessed, laying back on your bed but keeping his gaze on you, "because I know how much you fancy Richard Madden."

You giggled, jabbing him with your foot before standing up, deciding it was a good idea to get up now so you didn't have to rush around for work. "It's the accent, mainly. But you have to appreciate a good-looking man."

Ben joined you as you stood up, holding you in his arms like he did the previous night. You weren't official, you weren't addressing each other as girlfriend and boyfriend yet, as you were still freshly single. But you were going on dates, enjoying the romance of the beginning of a relationship. You didn't want to explore anything with anyone else, and neither did Ben.

"I have to get ready," you sighed, wishing you could stay in his arms for just a moment longer, "but I will be home at 5, and then we can go." You smiled at him, watching as he left your room to give you privacy.

Mason could only imagine how happy you woke up today, after hearing Ben talk to Reece about watching the new Eternals movie with you tonight. Mason knew you were a massive Marvel nerd, and he'd love taking you to the first showing of the new movies, and talking about it all on the way home. He remembered how upset you were when someone spoiled Infinity War for you, and how close to tears you were upon watching Endgame. Taking you to the movies was so special and intimate for Mason, and now he had to hear about another man taking you. He loved Ben, he was one of his closest Chelsea mates, but in his mind, you were still his girl.

"Mase," Ben called out, a genuine smile on his face as he looked over to Mason, who seemed to be kicking a ball around by himself, "have you watched Eternals yet?" Mason just shook his head, not wanting to pay any more attention to Ben, wanting to revel in his sour mood for as long as he could.

You'd gotten a call on your lunch break, quickly shrugging your coat onto your shoulders, and hearing Ben greet you on the other side of the phone. It had made your stressful day just a little more peaceful, and you felt yourself relaxing into the horrible desk chair you'd gotten so used to.

"Hey, you." You smiled. "I was just about to leave the office to grab lunch."

"Sorry to disturb, I just had a quick question," Ben replied, walking away from the group of boys by the locker rooms, watching for any signs of Mason, "did you end up talking to Mase?"

You hadn't told Ben about that night, you just told him you grabbed the remainder of your things whilst he wasn't home. Ben hadn't asked any further questions on the matter. "Yeah, I told him that I'm willing to be friends with him, it would just take a while to get used to."

"He's just icing me out right now, which is expected. I was going to invite him to come with us, but I didn't want to ruin date night." Ben stated, your shoulders tensing at the thought of Mason third-wheeling, God knows what they'd talk about as you'd inevitably up and leave them for the toilet mid-movie.

You awkwardly chuckled, waving to a colleague who was clocking out for the day. "That was for the best, look, I don't want to miss lunch so I'll see you later." You abruptly ended the call, hoping your lunch would distract you from thinking about Mason and why he was being so uptight with Ben. He did this to himself, after all.

You'd returned home at five, like you'd promised, Ben in the living room on his phone. He watched you with a simple smile, taking off your shoes and coat, putting your bag in it's usual spot on the bottom stair.

"Movie's booked for 7.30, so we can go and grab dinner beforehand." Ben stated, and you'd hummed in response as you'd ran upstairs to get ready.

Ben relaxed into his spot on the sofa, still conflicted about whether or not he should ask you to be his girlfriend tonight. He wanted to go for it, to get it over and done with so you were finally, and officially, his. But Mason was the only thing in the way. Obviously, you'd gotten closure and the pair of you were okay again, acting friendly, but he was completely cold towards Ben.

Just as you'd spritzed some perfume onto your neck, your phone buzzed. Assuming it was just Ben telling you to jokingly hurry up, you were rather shocked to see Mason had texted you.

'I heard you're watching Eternals tonight, and I know you're excited about it. Have fun and don't spoil it for me :)'

You laughed, feeling strangely okay that the pair of you were friends. And it meant you could talk whenever, laugh, and you'd eventually forgive him for what he'd done.

I have been waiting for this movie forever, and I'll keep my mouth shut, can't say the same for Ben :), you texted back, a smile on your face as you walked down the stairs to meet with Ben once again.

"Ready to go?"

Ben had decided to save the question for a more special time, knowing your mind was truly focused on Eternals. He'd enjoyed the night, nonetheless, taking you out to a nice pub for food, which was your favourite place to get food. It was a cozy date, and it just solidified his feelings for you.

This morning at training, before he could even press send on his message to tell you he had forgotten his wash bag, you'd texted him the same thing, and told him you'd drop by the training grounds to give it to him as it was your day off.

Mason was shocked to see you, your gorgeous, bright eyes and infectious smile. With Ben's wash bag in your arm, his smile dropped. He was trying so hard to forget the two of you were a thing now, to try and move on from thinking he still had a chance. But it was no use. This friendship you both started recently would only make things harder for him, every time he'd see you, he'd fall in love with you all over again.

"Mase!" You exclaimed, Ben's wash bag now free from your arm as you enveloped him in a hug. He accepted it dangerously quick, needing to hold you against him for the first time in a month, but quickly pulling away and hoping you didn't feel his heart hammering against his chest.

"How was the movie?" He asked, a stupid grin on his face, arms folded as he looked down at you. Ben could see what he was doing, and he wasn't impressed, but he knew you. He knew you wouldn't go back to him, right?

"So good, I'm not going to spoil it, like you asked. But one of the greatest I've seen this year." You commented, and there was a glint in your eye. One he'd only seen whenever you spoke about Marvel, both comics and movies. Mason joined you in laughter, alerting Ben and breaking his concentration on Kai's speech. Ben didn't understand how this friendship was working so well, how you were so okay to stay friends with the guy who cheated on you, who would swoop in the moment he knew you were available.

"I suppose you're only saying that because of Richard Madden," Mason suggested, eyebrows raised as he continued to look down at you, making your cheeks and nose tinge a slight pink. Ben was seething, to a random bystander it would look as if the two of you were flirting. Ben trusted you, but Mason was someone he now had to watch out for.

"Well, Barry Keoghan caught my eye a bit," you confessed, sharing another round of laughter with Mason, "maybe we can go and watch No Way Home together? As a group? It's more fun, the more people you go with." The pair of you planned to watch No Way Home together, the first showing, no matter how expensive. It was Spiderman, for fuck's sake. But that was all ruined after Mason's stupid mistake.

"Sounds great, I'll let you get on with your day." Mason spoke, embracing you once more before watching you say goodbye to Ben, and leave. Mason wore a slight smugness for the rest of the day, happy that he was friends with you, handcuffing the hope of a chance with you to him.

It was clear Mason wanted to tease Ben, to rile him up, and it had gotten too much when he'd received a rather powerful ball to the back of the head. Ben turned, seeing Mason pull a sarcastically apologetic face before laughing to himself. It was enough, Ben wasn't a fighter, but he needed a word with Mason.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Ben snapped, approaching Mason, and a few of the Chelsea teammates had looked over at the two, who looked about ready to throw hands.

"What are you on about?" Mason asked, posing as innocent, as if he hadn't been out for Ben the moment he found out you were seriously a thing.

"Don't be a dick. What's your problem with me?"

"You are my problem. If it weren't for you, I could still have my girl. But Big Hero Ben decides to steal her for himself. It's pathetic, how long have you had your eye on her? Since we were dating?" Mason knew he was being nonsensical, it wasn't Ben's fault, it was his own. But he was blinded by rage, that Ben had stolen you from him.

"If it weren't for me?" Ben laughed dryly, his finger jabbing into his own chest, "you cheated on her, mate. She was out working late and you brought a girl home, slept with her in your own bed, it's sick. She called me crying, telling me she needed somewhere to stay, she didn't want to go upstairs to confront you. You have nobody to blame but yourself, Mase."

"I could have fixed things. But you just needed her, didn't you? Why her? You regularly see and talk to models, why my girlfriend?" Mason asked, and even Ben could hear the desperation in his voice. "She's been my girlfriend since we were 15, why did you need her so bad?"

"You're blaming me? Seriously, Mase. Get a grip. So what if her and I are a thing now?" Ben questioned, running his hands through his hair, stressed at the entirety of this situation, and completely forgetting about the training that was currently happening. "You need to stop blaming me for this, because you had your chance with her and you threw it away. You did more than throw it away, you ripped it up and spat on it. I can't believe the pair of you are friends, I can't believe she's willing to forgive you and move on from what you did. You need to get over it, Mason. She's not going back to you. She has more respect for herself than you think."

Mason was too stunned to speak. He just watched Ben return to football, and stormed away from the pitch, ignoring the calls from the trainers. He needed to get away from this, just for a day. Was Ben right? Was he a fool to think a friendship between the two of you would work? It wasn't doing anything but hindering him moving on, maybe after he's accepted you and Ben, maybe then he could continue being friends with you.

"And he just stormed off?" You asked, cracking your knuckles as you waited at the red light. Ben had called you the moment training finished, but you were in the car on the way home from taking your sister out for a late lunch.

"Yeah, he is the biggest baby I know. I'm sorry for doubting your friendship with him, but I personally don't think I could stomach being friend's with someone who cheated on me." Ben admitted, feeling bad for digging at you during his argument with Mason. But you didn't care.

"It's fine. Do you think I should talk to him about it?" You wondered, asking yourself more than you were asking Ben.

"It's up to you. I'm not mad at him, I just wish he would accept that you've moved on. Yes, it's with his mate, I can understand why that feels like a kick to the gonads, but he's one of my best friends, I would never rub it in his face that we're together." You felt bad for the pair of them, which only enforced how needed a talk with Mason was.

"I'm gonna stop at his house, I'll see you when I get home." You spoke to Ben, ending the call and indicating the opposite way.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" Mason questioned, opening the door and through his tired eyes, you could still see his confusion. Ignoring him, you walked past and stood by on his couch, secretly missing the feeling of it. There had been many nights of you both watching shitty tv, whilst cuddling and giggling quietly together.

"Why can't you just be happy for me?" You asked him, a slight whimper to your voice. Mason had shut the door and wanted nothing more than to hug you, to hold you and console you. He was glad you weren't facing him, because nothing hurt more than seeing you cry.

"What?"

"Don't be dumb, Mase. Why can't you be happy for me?" You repeated, linking your hands together and finally looking at him, and he looked just as broken as you were. His infidelity had broken him as much as it did you.

"Because it's not me, Y/N. I can't be happy for you if I'm not the one with you. It breaks my heart to see you with someone else, and it's a whole other feeling to know that it's my best mate." Mason explained, his own voice cracking as he finally confessed his feelings to you. He didn't feel deserving of his pain, because he was the one to cause it. He told himself to shut up and get on with it, pretending he hadn't bruised his own heart whilst bruising yours.

"I know I fucked up, and I want to take it back. But I can't. And now I can't even be friends with you, because it's ruining my life. To pretend I'm so okay with you and Ben together. Doing things we should've been doing, talking about things we should've been talking about. And I feel like I can't be upset or jealous or mad, because it's my fault. But I am allowed to feel this way, Y/N. I'm allowed to grieve over our relationship."

He was sobbing now, covering his face with his hands so you didn't see him cry. But all you did was hold him, your hands in his hair as you hushed him. It was a royal mess you were both in.

"I'm so sorry I hurt you, Y/N. I will say it a thousand times over. I will say it until I lose my voice. I'm sorry." He repeated into your shoulder, holding you tightly against him.

"I know, Mase," you whispered, "I think it's best we don't talk. At least, not right now. I need you to do whatever you need to do, to get over me and to come to terms with me and Ben. Maybe then we can be friends, because that's all I want. I don't want to lose you, Mase. We've known each other since we were like 12, I know too much about you to throw this away."

"I can't lose you, that's the difference between us. You don't want to lose me, but if I lose you, I've lost my old life. You've been the only thing to keep my grounded, to keep me humble, to show me peace." Mason looked at you, and you'd wiped his tears away with your thumbs.

"I'll be right here when you've bounced back, I'll still cheer for you at your games, I'll always be here for you." You reminded him, just because you weren't together anymore, didn't mean that you wouldn't still be his friend.

"I don't deserve you."

[theimprobabledreamersworld]

Hi Angel! For the prompt requests, 7 - "stop pushing everyone away!" With dukeceit please😊 hope you have fun with it💜💙💛💚

Hey Starlight! 💛

I'm so sorry this took so long, but I've finally finished this! I hope you like it! 💛For context, it takes place somewhere after DWIT and before SvS Redux

Warnings for: swearing and intense arguing

Writing taglist: @lost-in-thought-20 @the-duke-of-nuts @red-imeanblue @jwillowwolf (If you'd like to be added/removed)

Read on AO3!

I Won't Push You Away

“Remus, wait! We just wanted to-”

The door slammed and the harsh noise reverberated around the Mind Palace, bouncing off of every wall with malevolence. Why did they all suddenly give a shit about including him? They were repulsed by him the last time they all interacted, absolutely disgusted by his presence… and now they want him to participate in all their nice, sparkly bullshit! What would be the point? He wasn’t nice. He was everything that Thomas despised… why couldn’t they just leave him alone.

Remus stormed down the corridor into the room that he shared with Janus, as the door collided with the wall violently, he didn’t even notice Janus sitting in the chair shrouded by darkness. A classic novel in his hands and a look of disinterest plastered onto his features. Despite the fact that the aggressive action made him jolt up from the chair, he was good at disguising emotions that he didn’t want others to see. Remus collapsed onto the bed as Janus’ voice quietly rang out, tones of disappointment crackled through the air.

“Well… I can see you had a marvellous morning, huh darling?” As the words dragged out, Remus’ fists instinctively curled up causing them to shake at the pressure. He was feeling like a soda can, the rage was bubbling up again, threatening to do something incredibly reckless.

“Jan, I am not in the mood for this shit.” He covered his eyes with his arm, blocking out the light that was blazing down onto him. If he stayed here long enough, maybe everyone would just leave him alone. At the same time, he didn’t want to be alone… he knew he would self-destruct and destroy something if he was left to his own devices… so he decided he was going to do what he did best. Ruin. Everything.

“Remus… I’m quite concerned about you. All of this that you’ve been doing lately. You really need to stop.” The sadness shining through in Janus’ voice was enough to break Remus’ cold, black heart. It wasn’t enough though, the anger was consuming him, threatening to swallow him whole. It was agonising as he tried to take deep breaths and sat up on the bed. He chuckled bitterly as he stared at his hands trembling before glaring at Janus.

“Concerned? About me? There is nothing wrong with me.” He smirked maliciously before his whole body began to tremble. He pressed his hands up to his temples, trying to repress everything. His breaths became ragged and loud. His eyes were closed so tight, he thought he was going to damage something. He could hear Janus closing the book, and leaning forward on his chair. The worry was so prominent that it was almost festering like a poisonous smoke. The pressure was too much, the can was exploding.

“Remus…?”

“THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!” His words roared out, causing a deafening silence. “See? I am fine. In fact I have never been better. So just leave. me. alone.”

Even Janus looked shocked… genuinely shocked. Remus knew that he should apologise… but only toxic thoughts clouded his mind. He couldn’t even look Janus in the eye again… he had hurt everyone else, but the one person he promised he would never hurt, was Janus. ‘And look what you’ve done dipshit, you’ve hurt the only person you had left… Congrat-u-fucking-lations.’

“My God, Remus. You’ve worked yourself up… I don’t know what the others were trying to get you to do… but please, stop pushing people away!” Remus cocked his head to the side, the pressure was released, the rage continued to bubble away. He couldn’t calm down, and Janus, as much as he loved him, wasn’t helping right now.

“Ohhh! That’s a bit fucking rich coming from you, isn’t it, Snake?” Remus recoiled at the venom in his words once again. Janus recoiled too, he began lean back in the chair, creating as much space between the two of them.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Lie. Another fucking lie. Nothing but lies… even to him.

“Oh PLEASE spare me the dramatics! You’ve been sooo desperate to get away from me… You’ve been trying to blend yourself in quite nicely into their cosy little set-up. You still push them away with your deceit though. The gloves were a nice touch, talking in lies wasn’t enough huh?” Poisonous dart of hurtful words after poisonous dart was aimed at Janus, Remus could practically feel how each one was stabbing him sharply… infecting him. The silence was excruciating, and Janus began to tremble… for the first time, unsure of what to say or do.

“I-” Janus stopped himself before any more words came out. His eyes were filled to the brim with tears and the book fell to the floor with a loud thud as he threw his head into his hands. Remus’ eyes widened in shock at the sight… ‘Fuck. No, no, no! What the fuck have I done??.’ The pressure in his head disappeared immediately at the sight of the one he loved being broken. He slowly, very tentatively made his way over to Janus. He knew that he had wanted to ruin everything… but not this. Never this.

“Shit. Jan? I’m so sorry. I- I don’t know what came over me. God, I never meant those things! I wasn’t trying to push you away. Everything… i- in my head was too loud, and…” He couldn’t even finish his words as he saw Janus still shaking in front of him. Remus slowly reached out and placed his hand gently on Janus’ back, and his heart broke at the initial flinch. Soon though, Janus melted into the touch and let Remus hold him.

Remus couldn’t tell how much time had passed. He wiped away every tear on Janus’ cheeks, he whispered sorry more times than he could count and he held him as tight as he could until Janus eventually stopped shaking, he couldn’t help but feel relief when Janus finally hugged him back. His heart pounded at the realisation that despite everything he had just done, he still hadn’t pushed Janus away. If that had really happened, he knew it would crush him. Remus sighed and sank to the floor, he went to apologise one more time and took Janus’ hand before freezing.

The gloves weren’t there, Janus wasn’t wearing them.

He heard Janus laugh gently at the look of confusion and guilt on his face. He rubbed his thumb across the back of Janus’ hand, trying to stop himself from getting overwhelmed once again.

“You thought they were going to be there, didn’t you?” Janus asked genuinely, and Remus just nodded in response, he couldn’t trust himself to speak in this moment.

“I will never wear them when I’m with you, Darling. Youare the one person who knows me… all of me, and you still love me all the same. I’m never going to push you away. You have to believe that.” Janus gently put his fingers under Remus’ chin making him look into his eyes, and he watched as the sincerity danced in them. Remus smiled and squeezed his hand tightly, smiling wider when Janus squeezed back.

Remus stood up and pulled Janus up with him, causing them both to laugh as he then fell onto the bed. He patted the space next to him and let Janus curl up next to him, the poison had cleared and the air was clear once again. There was still one niggling thought that Remus couldn’t shake.

“Jan?” He asked softly, and Janus mumbled a sound of affirmation as a response.

“I still don’t understand… Why don’t you stop wearing them around the others? You could fit in so well if you didn’t.” Remus realised how confused he sounded, and Janus leant up on his arm so Remus could see his eyes, he took one of his hands and smiled.

“Because they’re not you.” He smiled at the words, and he held Janus as close as he could as they both slowly fell asleep.

Remus made a vow to himself, he was going to stop pushing people away now, and he was going to keep Janus closer than ever.

[pacifymebby]

Moving in with the guys? Love your stuff xx

Van

✨ You point blank refused to move in with him until he bought a god damn fridge. You don't understand how he lived so long without a bloody fridge.

✨ Where was he keeping milk??? For all the brews he drinks in a day??

✨ Moving in is chaos, you never really organised a specific day just kept packing up when the mood took you. And he was worse, his room at his parents was such a mess and he's such a sentimental dafty that he has all this shite from when he was a kid. And the attention span of a gnat. You try to help him pack but you both keep getting distracted.

✨ And unpacking is twice as hard arguing over where his toy yoda gets to live (he thinks it should be on the fireplace for all to marvel in its glory) (you do not)

✨ Redecorating is fun but a mess and you make the slowest progress. This boy has so much energy but holy shit does he channel it all into procrastinating? Lots of painting and doing DIY to the tune of van Morrison and van serenading you.

✨ Living off take out for like two weeks straight because you've still not unpacked the kitchen. You do have a fridge now though so that's something.

✨ He definitely thinks you should christen every room together.

Bondy

✨ You never really moved in, it just happened over time

✨ You kinda went round for dinner one night and never left. Occasionally you'd drive home to pick up some more clothes, a few books you wanted to read. Over time his home just became yours without either of you noticing.

✨ One day he looked around and just noticed it, smirked to himself and said "hey, y/n wanna move in with me?" "uh...yeah I guess that could be nice..." "good cause a reckon you already have," hes grinning when he says it. Hes thrilled to bits.

✨ Can imagine a lot of drunk dancing in the kitchen to Roxy music whilst you cook up midnight snacks.

✨ You probably have a garden, you probably sit and bird watch in the garden when you go out for a cig. Listening to the birds chattering. Sometimes you make up the conversations they're having.

✨ I think you also do gardening together, you like digging up the weeds with him, growing vegetables, trying every year to grow Strawberries. Bondy is conflicted because the hedgehogs are ruining your fun by eating them but he thinks they're having fun too and he doesn't want to ruin theirs. You have lots of debates about the Strawberries.

✨ When you finally grow successful Strawberries you pick them all together, wash them and then sit in the grass feeding them to one another, dramatically critiquing and awarding each one a Michelin star rating.

✨ DIY is chaos but it's so fun. Lots of earthy neutrals, lots of paint on your faces and your clothes, he likes to give you a commentary of what he's doing as if he's da vinci

Benji

✨He was definitely nervous to ask you even though he knew you'd say yes. When you do say yes he wants to start making plans immediately.

✨ You go house hunting and choose which houses you go to visit based on which ones you want to snoop inside. You visit some mental houses you had no intention of buying just out of curiosity. You pretend you're on escape to the Country.

✨ First thing you set up is the bed and the TV and the games consoles. You don't get anything else done for several days because of this.

✨ You're just making the most of all this alone time you get now you live together. Your favourite thing is how you get to fall asleep with him every night and wake up with him every morning.

✨ You get a cat or a dog almost straight away.

Bob

✨ Can't picture him living anywhere but a big farm house now sorry so, you're living your cottagecore dreams finally.

✨ You get a gorgeous sheepdog obviously.

✨Lighting fires in the evening and getting cosy under blankets on the sofa, falling asleep curled up with one another at the end of a day.

✨ You've already picked out which room will be the nursery one day.

✨ Moving in with Bob was pretty organised, he'd been thinking and planning so long that the move was planned to the letter and it all went as smoothly as possible.

✨But nothing ever goes perfect when it comes to moving, any minor disasters however (for twenty minutes you were locked out because he'd left the key at the old house) are delt with together as a team and everything is pretty relaxed.

✨Eating pizza on the floor of the living room on the first night, super late, nothings really unpacked yet and you've only put the bed together upstairs. You sit watching Netflix on your phone, drinking cups of tea talking about everything you can do to the house. Planning your future together.

Sam

✨Why do I get the feeling this would be utterly nuts? All his band mates would be roped into helping you and really? Did it help or did it hinder? Who knows...

✨Getting them round to help with the painting and stuff too, this is a mess, you all make a mess. It's like a bunch of kids have been given a house. Are the boys more excited than you are? Who knows.

✨Sam is just buzzing and excited but a little bit nervous too, its such a big step and he's anxious for things to go well.

✨After everythings been moved in you all go down the local for a celebratory pint. Which turns into several which turns into heading back to your new home, all the lads sleeping on the floor. You and Sam sleeping on a mattress upstairs because you were too drunk to work out how to get the slats in the bedframe.

✨Cuddling up with him under the covers and whispering to eachother about how amazing it is you finally have a house. You're gan wake up next to one another forever.

✨And then Sam's a little anxious again and he nervously asks you whether you're intimidated by it. "a bit I guess..." "yeah it's big int it... We're doing somat pretty big," "yeah, it's amazing though, a love it an a love you..."

"but what if yas get sick of me seeing me everyday like..."

"Sam..."

✨ You roll over kiss his nose "a couldn't be sick of you if a tried and spending the rest of my life with you sounds like a dream come true"