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wolfprincesszola · 1 year ago

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The Fate of the Marked Six Chapter 5

Happy Thanksgiving! Sorry for the late update (no i don't have a valid excuse), but here it is now! Hope you enjoy! ——————– Summary: Virgil moves into a new town and meets Roman, a ghost that he promises to help in finding the unfinished business needed to pass over. However, Roman's past seemed to be deeply muddled with trouble, an uncurable disease that has started to affect a classmate, and a certain tight-lipped valedictorian. Friendships are made and Virgil finds himself thrown into a situation far more complicated and twisted than he signed up. Hopefully, with the help of his new five friends, he can find a way to bring peace to the town once and for all.

Trigger Warnings: None

Content Warnings: Swearing, Slight Suggestive Language

<Previous> <Next> ——————–

Chapter 05

Someone moved next to Janus’s house, but considering he hadn’t seen the people, he just assumed the people moved were a young couple looking for a new way of life. He didn’t bother to try and introduce himself because the last two tenants had moved out, claiming the house was “haunted”. There was no explanation to why or what was haunting it, because even mediums that had been hired to look into the house claimed there was no one there. No one in the spiritual world, nor anyone in the real world.

He came back home to see someone else coming home from his neighbors. Deciding he wanted to see who it was, he parked his car, staring at the now-parking car across from him.

Janus was expecting a young couple, but what he got instead was Virgil himself coming out, and his mother on the driver’s side.

“Huh. What a weird coincidence.” Janus snorted, mumbling to himself as he called to Virgil, “Virgil!”

Virgil turned his head before his eyes flushed in embarrassment. He only went over once his mother pushed him towards the boy. "Hey, Janus. What are you doing here?”

“I live here.”

“Oh." Virgil replied, blinking at Janus before pointing to his house, "We just moved here."

Janus could tell Virgil's expression screamed of wanting to get out of the conversation, so he decided to grant Virgil that wish.

Janus ended the conversation, nodding, "I see that. I hope you've unpacked and I'll see you later."

“Yeah…see you later.”

Janus nodded, breaking away from looking at Virgil to walk into his house. He had forgotten for a second to stop making eye contact with Virgil, and during lunch that day, he had seen Virgil’s fate branded onto him, something he wished no one would ever have to experience.

㾓.

With that word, it had to have context. In some cases, it meant fatigue. In others, it meant melancholy. The worst way it could control Virgil’s fate was hatred.

Janus had seen it only once before in that context. An actor had it branded on his head when Janus had bumped into him by accident in real life. Years after he bumped into him, he ended up giving into the hatred of himself and of others. The actor died in a house fire he set off himself, killing 15 other people.

The others he had seen it in were elders, who more resonated with the idea of fatigue, or kids who had to grow up too early. In teens, it was melancholy, clearly having to deal with the loneliness.

He hoped for Virgil, the case was fatigue, something that could hopefully be changed.

He promised himself that as soon as he helped with Remus’s fate, he would find a way to change Virgil’s into something less tragic.

“Hey, what are you thinking about?”

Janus blinked, looking towards the voice to see his mother smiling at him.

“Oh, nothing.” Janus murmured, “It was just a long day at school.”

“Did you meet the new neighbors?”

“Just did. One of them is the new kid at my school.” Janus shrugged, “He’s chill.”

“You have nothing else to say about him?”

“I dunno. What do you want me to say?” Janus asked as he put his backpack down.

“I mean, their family seems really amazing, but I was wondering if maybe they’ll be staying. I mean, the last neighbors didn’t even last a week.”

“Well, they’ve been moved in for about a week.” Janus shrugged as he grabbed a couple of things out of his backpack, “I think they’ll be okay, especially since Virgil has magic.”

“Does he now? Is it magic like yours?”

Janus shuddered, “Oh universe, I hope no one has a power like mine. It’s already bothersome for me to deal with it. Imagine if there were more people like me.”

“I was just suggesting! You don’t normally have a lot of friends, so I just thought that maybe…”

“Stop it, Mom.” Janus rolled his eyes, “Re's enough, and sometimes, he’s a bit too much. Virgil's chill, and he has medium powers, so I’m sure that haunted things won’t really scare him too much.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“Now, I’m going to cook some pasta. Call me if you need anything.”

-+=~=+-

Janus had tried before to see his fate, but the problem was he couldn’t see anyone’s fate through mirrors or screens. When he looked into one, he was faced with a sense of normality where he could see people without the impending fate hovering above their forehead.

He could only get glimpses of it through the reflection of people’s eyes, but usually, they didn't keep their eyes on Janus long enough for him to read what it said.

That was why he got sick of not knowing his fate and called Remus up to come to his house. He arrived soon, as Janus had said it was an ‘emergency that he would only be able to solve’.

“Janus!” Remus’s voice sang throughout the house, “Your savior is here!”

“I'm so not glad you're here, Remus.” Janus sighed in relief as he motioned for Remus to go into his room.

“2 inches!” His father yelled as soon as the two disappeared into the other room. Janus couldn't blame him for the comment, considering how many sexual comments Remus had made about Janus at the dinner table. By this point, their family knew the two would be far from instigating it, but still made the comments just in case.

"Oh, Mr. Wright, don't tease me with a good time~" Remus grinned.

"2 inches." Janus' father warned Remus, ignoring the comment the teenager made.

Remus walked into Janus' room, still shutting the door after Janus walked in despite all the warnings made. He made himself comfortable sitting on Janus' bed before turning to his best friend, "So, did you finally think about my offer to show you a good time?"

"Oh, totally." Janus rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his voice, "Stay still, I want to look into your eyes. Don't make this weird."

"How can I not make this weird, Jan? You're giving me the best material!" Remus complained as he proceeded to make it into a staring contest.

Janus ignored every comment Remus threw at him while he was moving his head to try and find the perfect spot. If Janus could read through Remus' brown eyes, then he could find what his fate was. He could read a stroke or two, but not enough for it to be readable (mainly from Remus’s shifting), and he huffed, grabbing onto Remus’s face, “Can you stay still for one moment?”

That moment didn’t last long enough as Remus screamed, jumping away from Janus’s touch and scrambling to the other side, breathing heavily.

“What happened?” Janus raised an eyebrow, “I brought you here because I thought you wouldn’t make this weird!”

“I'm all for jump scares but how did you do that?” Remus' eyes were widened as he stared at Janus as if he had just seen a ghost, "You’re being weird and touchy and vague, you start staring into my eyes sensually, you texted me saying this was an emergency, and I swore I saw some black Chinese character appear above your head.”

Janus faltered, staring at his best friend, “Sorry…repeat that.”

“What part?” Remus asked.

“The part with the Chinese character.”

“I don’t know. You just held my face and then I saw it, and then I pulled away and it was gone.”

Janus stared at him in silence.

"Jan?" Remus asked nervously.

Before Janus could ease Remus' nerves, Janus' father yelled, "Is everything okay up there? I heard Remus scream."

"We're okay!" Janus yelled before shaking his head at Remus to make sure Remus didn't spill anything.

“Whatever you say. Don’t fool around, or I’m going to supervise you guys. And I thought I said 2 inches, you two."

Janus rolled his eyes, knowing neither would go to open the door. Once he was sure his father was gone, he turned his attention back to his best friend. "Re?"

"What happened? Seriously? Have you been hiding this from me?"

"Let's test it." Janus held his hand out.

“Test what?”

“Clearly, something happened when I touched you. We try it again and see if it’s the same result.” Janus and Remus had never kept physical contact for long enough to look at each other's faces before they let go.

“What does it mean if it’s the same result?”

“Then, there’s a pattern.”

“Are you sure you’re-“

“Remus, my asshole, my unhinged best friend, the light of my life…this is the only time you’re getting physical touch from me, so either capitalize on this shit or we can never know about what’s going on with your magic.” Janus stared at him, “I…think this might be your power, because right as I held your face, I felt power surge through my blood, even if for a millisecond.”

Remus hesitated, but still placed his palm on top of Janus’s. Immediately, Janus felt his power grow, and he watched as the black symbol of death on Remus’s forehead started to fade.

Remus’s eyes shifted to Janus’s forehead, where he murmured something. Soft enough for Janus to barely have heard it.

“Pride.”

“Hm?”

“That’s what the symbol on your head means. Pride.”

“Huh." Janus let out a knowing sigh. His fate wasn't the worst. In fact, it just showed that maybe his pride would end up being his fatal flaw. He wasn't so sure, but it wasn't as bad as what Remus' fate was. "Wait, how did you know what the symbol meant?"

"I thought you were reading the Kama Sutra, so I grabbed it to see what page you bookmarked, but it ended up being a Chinese dictionary. I learned a lot of words from it against my will." Remus shrugged.

Janus had bigger things than to question all of Remus' decisions within that moment, but it still made him wonder. Why would Remus assume that Janus was reading the Kama Sutra? Why would Remus try to steal the book? Why would Remus continue reading and finish the entire dictionary before Janus noticed?

“Hold on, so is this your power right now?” Remus asked, as he glanced around the room before his eyes landed back on Janus’s forehead and the black symbol that haunted him.

“Yeah. My power is seeing everyone’s fates.”

“Oh sick! What’s mine?” Remus flashed a grin.

“Uh…love.” Janus fibbed as he looked away, “How are you feeling?”

“Better than I ever have.” Remus smiled, staring into Janus’s eyes and he knew he was genuine.

Janus watched as Remus’s mark faded completely, almost as if Remus was pushing all of his magic into Janus, and his magic continued to get stronger. Janus watched as Remus’s smile didn’t have as much exhaustion in them, and he watched him sit up for the first time.

“Remus!”

The two jumped at the noise, quickly withdrawing both their hands as they heard Janus' mother coming up the stairs.

“Are you staying here for dinner?” His mother opened the door and peeked her head in.

Remus scratched the back of his head, “It’s okay, I’m probably going home soon anyways.”

Janus’s mother tsked, “Nonsense. I’ll call your mother and tell his that you’re staying here to eat. You two better not be goofing off.”

“We aren’t.” Janus rolled his eyes.

“Good. Don’t commit any crimes.”

“We won’t, Mrs. Wright.”

“Stop that. Don’t call me that.” Janus’s mother rolled his eyes, “I’ll call you two when dinner is done.”

“Thanks, Mom!” The two of them yelled at the same time.

Janus made a face, turning towards Remus, “Don’t ever call my mom that again.”

Remus stuck his tongue at Janus and started to slouch again, the mark of death on his forehead slowly fading in again.

“How are you now?” Janus asked worryingly.

“I’m okay.” Remus forced a small smile, as Janus watched Remus mask the pain, like he probably had done millions of times already. “I think it’s weird feeling the magic rush back into my system.”

Janus was the one that was supposed to lie, so he didn't understand why Remus was hiding this from him. Maybe because Remus cared a little more about Janus that he'd like to admit and that Janus would've worried if he knew what Remus was going to.

“Hey, Re?”

“Hm?”

“Would you ever lie to me?”

“No, of course not. I never hide anything from anyone.”

“Do you have an illness I need to worry about?”

Janus watched as Remus swallowed, giving Janus the most patient smile, “No, of course not. I’m not going to leave you anytime soon. I promise.”

“Pinky promise, Re?” Janus held his hand out.

Remus linked their pinkies, “I pinky promise, Jan.”

Janus felt his heart sink as he watched the mark above Remus’s head start to turn red.

-+=~=+-

Janus felt the need to take a walk after Remus left his house, after a lot of Janus' family shoving food onto Remus' plate, and Remus having to refuse after a while. He loved Remus with all his heart and knew Janus would tell him the truth about anything. Even if Janus had a tendency to lie about a lot of things, it was easier to be honest with Remus unlike how it was with anyone else. Sometimes though, it was a hard pill to swallow to know Janus loved Remus so much that he’d lie to keep Remus happy. He wished it was easier for Remus to also be honest as a best friend, but he knew he couldn’t ask that much from a boy who didn’t even tell most that he was suffering through something incurable.

He walked until he found a park in the neighborhood, which he proceeded to loop around, making sure to avoid the darker areas, and be alert towards any sound.

“You’ve passed by this tree three times.”

Janus whipped his head toward the sound to see Logan sitting at a park bench, staring at him. He screamed, jumping back before staring, “A little warning next time, Logan? What are you doing here?”

“I could say the same about you.” Logan replied as he cleared his stuff off from the bench, “I come here for inspiration sometimes.”

“Inspiration? For what?”

“I want to become a writer in the future. I come here because of that statue.”

Janus turned around to see a small statue with the face of a boy sitting at the edge of the pedestal with a paintbrush and a smile. He looked about their age. “Who’s he?”

“Ah, just a kid who died in a car crash when he was young. His family got the park to memorialize him, and now…he sits here, smiling and hoping that someone else won’t also get hit.” Logan shrugged, “He’s wearing a ‘drive safe’ shirt.”

“Was he an artist?”

“Somewhat.” Logan murmured, “What brings you here, Janus?”

“I’m just getting some air.”

Logan nodded, “Then you can stay here as long as you like.”

“...I’m sorry about what we were saying during lunch. I promise we weren’t being mean to your brother.”

“I know.” Logan’s voice was hoarse, “But unfortunately, my parents don’t believe we should give him the benefit of others talking good about him, and I’d rather not speak ill of the one that took care of me for a long time.”

“You seem really fond of him.”

“I am.” Logan smiled as he opened up his notebook to the last page, where a cosmic sky was painted. It was the first time in a very long time that Janus had seen Logan smile. The last time had to be before Logan had suddenly made the shift to never be close to anyone. Janus wondered what had happened.

Janus looked over at the small white handwriting that was almost unreadable. It was in almost-illegible cursive, but Janus was able to make out the sentence, “You deserve to look at the back of your notebook, and realize that I have wasted the last page of your notebook without your permission.”

“This was the last thing he gave to me before he left.” Logan murmured, shutting the notebook again and Janus watched as the mark of regret on Logan’s forehead--which had almost faded--started to glow.

“You must have a lot of regret regarding him.”

“Ah, it’s nothing.” Logan shook his head, his gaze shifting away from the statue as he changed the subject, “How’s Remus doing?”

“I haven’t found a way to bring it up to him that I know.” Janus looked down, “I just…I want to help him.”

“There’s no cure.”

“Oh come on, you’re the valedictorian. You study for a living. I haven’t ever not seen you holding some form of homework or research. There’s nothing you know about this type of cancer. I can’t find anything.”

Logan hesitated for a millisecond, but it was enough for Janus to catch onto it.

“You hesitated. You do know something.”

“I already broke my oath not to break the rules for anyone.” Logan replied, “I can’t break another one.”

“Why not? What was the oath?”

“It’s not my character to break them.” Logan murmured as he pulled at his sleeves, “I just don’t like telling people information about things they care so much about because often, it hurts them more than it helps them, and at the end of the day, you’ll regret it.”

“No, please.” Janus pleaded, “I can’t find anything on this, and I need to help Re.”

“Why do you care so much?” Logan asked, “I know he’s your best friend, but I don’t think that there would be anyone in this world that I would spend every waking moment of my life trying to find a cure for something that is incurable. I’d just try to spend every moment with them because time is limited.”

“Jeez, that's not bleak at all.” Janus laughed as he saw the symbol on Logan’s forehead continue to glow a faint amber, “As you know, I moved here during elementary school. The 5th grade teacher took one look at me and knew I was going to be the quiet kid. They sat me next to Remus, hoping that maybe he would get me to open up. I swear to God, I wanted to punch him in the face every time he talked…but it was also kinda nice. I didn’t have many friends, and it was clear no one wanted to be friends with the quiet kid, except for Remus. No matter how quiet I was or how much I ignored him, he continued to talk to me, and a part of me felt a little less lonely. Re’s always been there for me, as a best friend. I may not show it, and he may not either, but when I was feeling the most alone, he was always a call away, a drive away, and most importantly, a hug away. He was my lifeline, and I hope that one day, he can depend on me like that too. Maybe this is the way I repay him for helping me through all the hard times.”

Logan stared at the boy before he sighed, going to grab something from his backpack he had put underneath the bench, “Sometimes I hate empathy.”

Janus tried to hide his grin as he let out a "thanks".

Logan grabbed a notebook filled with blue jellyfish out, turning it until he found the page he wanted.

“Michsleif Uchawi Cancer. Michsleif for the first person who got this disease, uchawi for the swahili.” Logan read off, “Originated here in a man named Jaindien Michsleif in 1950, who was known for his Swahili tongue. Magic, which grows from the heart, houses itself in a spot of our body called the fielsog, located next to our heart. People with inactive magic cannot access anything from the fielsog, unless stimulated with potions. People with active magic can access the fielsog, which then turns into the powers that they have. With Michsleif Uchawi Cancer, the growing magic is not contained in the fielsog because the magic is too powerful. It breaks the barriers and starts to consume the entirety of your body. It’s found in 1 out of 5,000,000 people, so Remus just got unlucky. There are symptoms of fatigue, hunger, weakness, nausea, lower body temperatures, coughing, and more.”

Janus tried to recall the last time he saw Remus genuinely well, and was not able to find something in mind. All he got was the memories of Remus always stealing food from Janus, coughing, layering up, and feeling unwell. Remus had been fighting the illness for a long time without his realizing. Then, it made sense why the mark of death had been on Remus so long, even from when Janus first met him.

Logan turned the page, “Surprisingly enough, while trying to find a cure for Jaindien Michsleif, they noticed the magic contained itself as long as Jaindien was holding onto someone’s hand of an active magic user. Instead, the magic would transfer into the active magic user, causing a power surge in their magic.”

“Oh? Was there anything about him being able to use the magic user’s powers as well?”

Logan paused, staring at Janus before scribbling it down, “That’s a new development. I think that might be Remus’s power himself. Jaindien didn’t have any powers even after doing it, and neither did the others. Well…there was one case where it happened that they would be able to see visions once they were holding someone, but everyone waved it off as the delusions of cancer. It might make sense if they were a seer.”

“Huh, so…you think Remus' power is him being able to use anyone else’s powers he chooses?”

“Well…assuming that he has a normal magic system, yes, I assume he would share powers with a person of his choosing.” Logan shrugged, closing his notebook, “I think what you need to do is instead of trying to find a way to save Remus, is to find someone who can help. Maybe contacting someone who has access to talking to people who have passed away with the disease, or maybe talking to someone who might deal with health issues would be best.”

Janus perked up, snapping his fingers, “You’re so smart.”

“I know.” Logan smirked.

Janus turned towards the statue, bowing, “Thank you, dear statue boy for helping clear my mind and understand where I need to go, and thank you, Logan.”

“Yeah, yeah, stupid sympathy.” Logan crossed his arms with a scowl, going back to his original plain dark blue notebook, filled with thousands of words and thoughts that he had in mind. Janus watched as Logan retreated back into his shell, staring at the statue for some sort of inspiration for his writing.

Janus smiled as he walked away, energized with an idea of where to start. ——————– I feel as if Dukeceit is really not dukeceit in this chapter, but there's nothing i can really do about that T-T

If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging! Reblogging helps me a lot and are very appreciated. Check out my masterlist for more, feel free to request any writings, and stick around if you want to see the rest of what I have in store for this! :)

#exposition time babyyyyy #also can you tell i made up those names by keyboard spamming-#cw swearing #cw light suggestive language #the fate of the marked six #chapter 5 #sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #ts remus #ts janus #ts logan #ts virgil #janus has the ability to see others' fates #remus has magic cancer #remus has magic sharing powers

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twiilys · 2 months ago

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Tagged by @luckylolabug ❤️

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

As of now 19, though 1 of that is a translation (Remember the Spring, by the extraordinary @themarydragon) and 1 is a collaborative work with 9 other lovely writers :)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 129,476 (same comment as above)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I go through phases in what I read and write, so it depends on what the mood is currently. I'm working on a Anne with an E/Anne of Green Gables one now, but my WIP folder (or rather, my collection of drafts/ideas/5 words scribbled on a notebook) has Lockwood & Co., Fire Emblem Three Houses, Julie and the Phantoms, Zelda Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom, and Harry Potter.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The (Not So) Subtle Art of Secret-Keeping - AWAE

what lies ahead - AWAE

of late nights and early mornings - AWAE

thou and i are too wise to woo peaceably - AWAE

Time to Learn - FE3H (whoop whoop!!)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I love receiving comments. Short, long, emojis, questions, anything!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I won't say I don't like writing angst, bc I do like a sprinkle of angst to deepen the fluff flavour (especially in longer fics). But I don't think I'll ever write a full-on angsty ending. I read and write for escapism, it would betray the purpose for me.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

It's between "what lies ahead" (AWAE, kinda S3 fix-it with Anne and Gilbert getting together) and "shadow play" (Lockwood & Co Locklyle newly-weds), I guess.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No, I'm glad I haven't so far! I did get into a spirited debate in the comments of one, but it was less ad hominem than it was about interpretation of the source material. That's alright with me :)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not yet. I'm more of the 'fade to black' type, mostly bc I'm still embarrassed I guess. It's not out of question though.

10. Do you write crossovers?

My current WIP is a "blorbos from my show in the setting of another piece of media", which is the closest I'll come to crossover I think.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so! Hope it stays that way!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. I've toyed with the idea of translating my own fic in French (my native language) but at this point I'm better at creative writing in English lol and I can never go back to French formatting for dialogues

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! "The (Not So) Subtle Art of Secret-Keeping" was a collaborative work, each of us writing 1 chapter. I got a lot of input that way and it made my part all the better! It was a really good experience.

14. What is your all-time favorite ship?

Don't ask me that, I can't choose 😭

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I mean, I have an UFO* folder, so... they're nice to think about 🥹

*Unfinished Objects & Projects (it comes from fabric crafts originally but I use it for fics that fall under that question exactly haha)

16. What are your writing strengths?

Someone said it was atmosphere once, but I like to think I'm good with sentence pacing/rhythm. I want to write stuff that sounds good out loud too.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Consistency? I get off the writing wagon very easily and I have to remind myself I like writing lol otherwise my WIPs get abandoned. It's not even writer's block, I just sometimes forget that opening a document and write makes me happy.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I do it with French sometimes, when I can justify it (e.g. Jerry in AWAE is a French speaker, so I do slip in bits of French). I like writers who incorporate aspects of their characters like that, but unfortunately Google translations are... what they are. On that note, please ask me for French help if need be, I'd be thrilled!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Fire Emblem Three Houses! I wrote before but I wasn't really part of a fandom.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Am I allowed to say my current WIP? It's extremely self-indulgent and also the longest thing I've ever written. Can't wait to share it!

Tagging you who wants to babble about their work :) (yes, you specifically. do the thing!)

#tag games #twilys writes #fanfiction #i'm catching up on tag games so there will be a few coming

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kanonavi · 7 months ago

Note

15, 12, and 22 for the ask game and specifically i am curious abt your thoughts on mistah diluc since 22 asks for hc or smth

Thanks for the ask!!

12 - I'm not really one for super crazy AU ideas (which I know you know, cuz it's why you're asking me this lol), I tend to have the most fun with ideas that could ostensibly happen in canon, since I like to find the little gaps that could be left open to interpretation and fill them in with my own ideas.

The closest answer that I can give to this (which you've already heard about in some detail) is that a few years ago I participated in a crossover rp with a group of friends which basically turned into an AU of my main blorbo at the time, Goro Akechi from Persona 5. He basically went through a (sadly unfinished) character arc of renouncing his former persona awakening before eventually reawakening as a better person, all of which took place in a magically shapeshifting city with all sorts of characters there, all the way from a sizable portion of the Mondstadt and Liyue casts of Genshin to like. actually just Kirby being there for a while if I remember right.

Maybe one day you'll influence me to get sillier with it but for now this is the best I have lol

15 - I don't go back and read my old work that often (out of fear lmao), so I'm not actually sure how much my style has changed. When it comes to my writing style itself, I don't really feel like it has? I know that when I look back at my older xiaoven writings, I can see that my opinions on little details I like with the ship have shifted with time, but my writing style seems pretty similar (aside from maybe lightening up on the italics a bit)

Some of my excesses with incorrect punctuation have begun to shift, mostly with your influence, and I've become aware of some of my more fanficcy habits on account of being in writing workshops for school, but those don't really affect my writer's voice a whole ton. When I work up the gall to read some of my older stuff, I'll tell you how I feel.

22 - A headcanon for Diluc! It's sadly been far too long since I thought about him in much depth (not since the aforementioned crossover rp in fact, since he was my other main muse by the end of it alongside Akechi) but I'll do my best.

Something that I remember thinking very strongly about Diluc is that he's much more proficient with his vision than the average person. This is on account of him having had his vision for over half of his life, considering that he got it when he was only 10 years old, but also on account of the fact that I like to think that he got very good at just, the absolute basest forms of combat when he was in his 4 year exile.

Maybe it's just the chiluc shipper in me who likes the eroticism of feral men, but Diluc to me is a person who is very well-trained in combat, but when the cards are down he'll bite and tear at someone like a wild animal if that's what it takes to survive. And where his vision proficiency ties into that (without going on an entire tangent of how I believe that elemental control works for Allogenes) is that he has such good elemental control that he can just straight up set himself on fire without burning himself.

To me, Diluc is at his most interesting when his Darknight Hero side is a greater contrast to his upstanding, uptight noble side. He's a righteous vigilante by technicality, yes, but also getting into a fight with him should be like getting into a fight with a pack of wild dogs... who also use a claymore? I lost track of the metaphor but you get the idea.

Fandom Ask Game

#navi answers #rubberbandballqueen #fuck it i'll tag #diluc ragnvindr #These went a little bit long as always (pensive)#I hope you manage to make me sillier one day with aus. Because I know that you will damn well try your best lol #Also I forgot how much I like thinking about feral Diluc...#Like that man is so Strange to me #Not strange in the way that mhy tried to make him with his weird edgy batman voicelines #But his exile Did Things To His Brain #I love him though I wish I had more excuses to think about him

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emmym1 · 1 year ago

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My thoughts on... Ghost-Spider 2019 (#6-10) "Party People"

So we've come at the end of the (Spider-Gwen:) Ghost-Spider run! Let just say that i did not expect it to end in this way. So in these last 5 issues of the run the comic takes a very different direction. Dissmissing the jackal, man-wolf & benji storylines in favor of introducing is to a new one featuring none other than earth-65's Sue & Johnny Storm. I will say i really loved this take on the characters. It's vastly different from what we are used to from these characters, as all 65 character. These versions of them are influencers who gained their powers after going to a sponsored trip in latveria and meeting with doom. After this they want to use their powers to increase their fame. It kinda sounds cliché when you put it like that, however the way its written it really reminds you of some of the modern day influencers. Now sadly all of this isn't well written, a lot of stuff gets really really rushed. And the entire arc really felt like it came out of nowhere. From the moment when they come back into the spotlights with their newfound powers they want to team up with Gwen. They do so and Gwen actually kind of likes it, it's fun for her that she has fellow superheroes to team up with in her own universe. However it turns out that they were just using her as a way to verify their status as trusted heroes. After this they suddenly come after Gwen and force her to leave the city or her and her loved ones die. I will say Sue and Johnny as villains are absolutely terrifying, especially their earth-65 versions. Due to Johnny's fire based powers it's hard for her to have an advantage in the fight. Even if she survives, they made modified video that makes her look like a villain. Which is the last thing she could use now. After some fighting they eventually make a deal. Sue and Johnny leave her loved ones alone and she moves to earth-616. And that's basically where it ends. I was really frustrated with it because the storyline is far from over, and having Gwen just basically run away and leave it at that feels really wrong. I hope that her future comics deal with the issue but i don't think they do (guess we'll find out soon enough!). All of it feels really rushed. Her goodbyes to her loved ones before she goes to 616 all take place on one page with minimal dialogue when it at least should've been a more emotional moment. There was also like a story going on with a different universe Reed Richards that also never got adressed anymore in this run. Overall these last few issues make the run feel very rushed and unfinished. I also didn't like how Gwenom reappeared with no real reason or explanation, it kind of felt like it was just there to have something cool and nothing else. Which is a shame because i love what Gwenom stands for when it comes to her character and her arc. (Sidenote: The last few issues did have a few character moments i really liked a lot, so it's not all bad. It's just a shame that all of this got so rushed out) So yeah i'm kind of frustrated that the run ends this way. Especially because i had an absolute blast reading it. It had a lot of good and fun moments, not to mention it was setting up some interesting stuff. So i hate that it all gets thrown away for another storyline with good setup and potential that gets rushed and left off unfinished. I really hope they'll return to all of these storylines at some point because it would be a shame and a waste of potential if they didn't. Even though these last issues left a sour taste in my mouth, i still enjoyed this run a lot and had great fun reading it. It's a shame it had to end in such a fashion but it is what it is. I still have a lot of her comics to read through, so i'm very excited for what those have in store!

#comics #spider gwen #earth 65 #gwen stacy #ghost spider #marvel

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whirlybirbs · 4 years ago

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( this chapter’s gif by @ransomflanagan from this beautiful set ! )

✪ — VACANT MIRRORS ; B.B. | 5/?

summary: your plan goes to asbolute shit.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 9k, please pray for my fingers

a/n: there’s action, there’s gunshot wounds, there’s canon appropriate violence! this one has a lot of plot, a lot of action, and i truly want to sleep for seven days after writing this. you should listen to the glass cannon’s club playlist while you read, though, for vibez.

( PREVIOUSLY | AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT )

You do have a plan.

Maybe it’s a little vague, a little messy, and a little up-in-the-air, but it’s a plan.

Get in, find Kiwi, avoid a handful of unsavory characters, and access the Alexandria Library.

Getting the hell out The Glass Cannon once you and Bucky were in was going to be a whole different plan entirely — one that was more improv than anything else. Hopefully, running a quick facial recognition program wouldn’t take long. With any luck, it would get a hit on any more recent aliases Innessa Sidrova was using after parsing the motherload of information Kiwi held onto with her life.

Kiwi wasn’t always known as Kiwi. She worked at SHIELD, like you, and back then she was known as Suji Awal. She stuck around longer — and she’d stayed on board during the active collapse to do heaven-sent work. It was an absolute Hail Mary, but while HYDRA had tried to purge all of SHIELD’s cloud data to protect their active agents and decades of progress, Suji had beat the hare in the race. Two steps ahead, she’d managed to pull nearly 97% of all confidential data including mission reports, agent profiles, and even electronic correspondence. While the metaphorical fire burned the documents behind her, she’d managed to salvage one of the only surviving, comprehensive looks at SHIELD before the curtain was pulled back to reveal HYDRA’s infection.

It had been used to try multiple HYDRA agents in the wake of it all in the federal courts. It was significant evidence, but after nearly all was reaped from the crop, Suji had taken the aptly named Alexandria Library and gone underground. Now, Kiwi was just another hacker in the thick of it and the Alexandria files were all but whispers.

It’s all about knowing the right people in the end.

Kiwi was a regular at The Glass Cannon. There was a nine out of ten chance you’d find her there. And if you didn’t find Kiwi, you’d probably find Climber and… Well, going to him wasn’t the most ideal situation, but out of the menagerie of acquaintances you’d gathered up throughout the years, you could trust Climber. He’d send you Kiwi’s way if you finally called in that favor he owed you. Either way, you’d find her and you’d get the files.

You just needed to avoid Alexei Gardzov.

Easy. Ish.

In truth, you barely get anything done Thursday — you’re too preoccupied in your head, running over the so-called plan even now as you fold laundry in the basement of your apartment complex.

You’d dug around in your closet, trying to find some semblance of an outfit. It was difficult. It wasn’t like the barely-there dresses and platform shoes were your thing anymore. Back then, your diet was mostly energy drinks and alcohol — in a way, it’s a relief to find that a good number of your staple outfits no longer fit. It made you feel like you really had put all this behind you.

You have.

Sure, it was the Rabbit you were going to have to be for tonight, but you’re not the Rabbit you were eight years ago. Good thing, too. You’re not too sure you and Bucky would have gotten along otherwise. Right now, your relationship with him was the biggest thing keeping you afloat — for the first time in a long time, you feel like you have some sort of purpose, even if it was a vague one at best.

You knew Innessa Sidrova was a threat — and you knew Bucky had to remedy that threat. You knew he felt responsible for creating her, for planting her in a position of power where she could manipulate and control. In truth, there was still a lot of vagueness surrounding his past. He’d made it clear he hasn’t been himself for a long time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to wade through the muck of his trauma to pluck out your answers. It just felt wrong.

If you were to say you hadn’t been tempted to go out on your own and dig, that’d be a lie.

Even now, as you pull out the ink-black top from the dryer and fold it neatly on top of the other pieces of laundry needed for tonight, you can feel it sparking like a lighter in the back of your head.

He was keeping something from you.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You nearly jump six feet in the air.

It’s Miss Bonnie — and she’s laughing when her feet touch the cold concrete of the unfinished floor. Her basket of laundry is balanced neatly on her hip, and she walks with a smirk on her face. Her hair is piled neatly on top of her head, and as she bends to plop the basket down, she offers a wink.

“I could hear you thinking from upstairs,” she ruminates, paisley and dyed skirts kissing the ground, “Like a little steam engine.”

You laugh quietly into your task. You duck your head and heft a black bra and jeans from the dryer. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

She looks up, eyes moving carefully from the laundry pile to your face. Her eyes glimmer with quiet curiosity. “And a big night planned, huh?”

You snort. “What was the giveaway?”

“It’s always the lacey bras,” she chirps and slides a smirk your way as she waggles a finger at your pile, “And the strappy little bodysuit was a good hint, too.”

You exhale with a laugh, bracing a hand against the dryer. She’s not wrong — you’d really forgone comfort with this outfit lineup. It was temporary, though, and well worth the efforts if it meant helping Bucky tick off a name from his list of amends. You knew how much those meant to him.

“So,” she continues, voice muddled as she continues to load the washer, “I take it this friend of yours is really helping you out of your shell?”

“I guess so. Yeah. It’s — It’s sort of a mutual shell-cracking, I guess.”

“Mm,” a hum, “You sound troubled, though.”

Your mouth opens as your fingers trace the line of the bodysuit. You pause, and you rock back on your heels. Miss Bonnie notices.

She waits patiently, bent at the knees.

“You ever just…” you wave your hand, “Feel like — I don’t know. He’s my friend. My best friend, honestly, and that’s… Really saying a lot. But, there’s stuff under the surface and I know it’s not my business but…”

Out comes a strangled groan.

“What? Like a crazy ex-girlfriend?”

“No, no — I don’t think so,” you mutter, “Wouldn’t surprise me, though.”

“Handsome?” she asks, smiling.

You close your eyes and ignore the smile on your face as you reply. “Yea, handsome.”

“Well, have you tried asking?” she shrugs as she stands, “Not about the crazy ex, but about the stuff you’re worried about? It never hurts.”

“Problem is, I don’t really think it’s too much of my business.”

Miss Bonnie hums at that and presses the start on her washer. She’s quiet for a bit, swaying slightly as she weighs the conversation and you watch — enamored with the older woman’s calm wisdom. She gestures openly with ringed hands.

“I think it’s normal for us to want to know everything about those we care about,” she says, “We want to know how we can protect them, how we can comfort them. But… it comes in due time. All of it does. You’ll find a time when he does open up about the ex, or whatever it is on his mind. You’re friends, after all.”

You’re nodding, chest tight with thanks.

Miss Bonnie’s face is soft.

“You got a picture?” she chirps like a bird looking for a worm, “I wanna see who this little friend is. And if he really is as handsome as you’re suggesting...”

You scoff and lean to dig out your phone.

“Cut it out,” you mumble as she moves closer, “No playing matchmaker.”

“Sure, sure,” she waves, leaning to watch as you scroll through your camera roll.

The only photo you have of Bucky is there from Tuesday night — after he’d housed nearly an entire container of noodles and promptly passed out during the third Lord of the Rings movie. You’d woken up around one in the morning to find that Poke had unceremoniously curled up on top of the supersoldier’s chest. Bucky’s hand was still in the calico’s fur as he dozed, the colors of the TV painting his face all sorts of peaceful. You’d taken the photo, shoving it in his face after gently nudging him awake.

He’s laughed.

You gesture to show Miss Bonnie.

Like ice, she freezes.

You notice a microexpression dart across her face, but it’s gone in an instant. You can’t pin it, but the way she bends to pull the phone closer and zoom in on her face comes off as interest. You blink, label it as shock, and move on.

Her voice sounds different.

“Handsome,” she mumbles plainly, preoccupied with the sight, “I get it now. What’s his name?”

“Bucky,” you say as she hands the phone back, “He’s… He’s a good person.”

Miss Bonnie just nods.

You tuck your phone away and plop your laundry into your basket. Ignoring the sudden quiet that had crept between you both, you haul up the stack and offer her a gentle smile. She’s fiddling with the washer’s timer.

“Thank you, Miss Bonnie.”

“Of course,” she rushes out, smiling gently, “And be safe tonight.”

“I will.”

With your promise, you ascend the stairs.

In that basement, Bonnie McLayne is no more, and instead, Innessa Sidrova remembers that night in Moscow, back in 1975.

She remembers the Winter Soldier.

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

Bucky calls you three times with no answer.

Normally, he’d just give up — but it was Thursday, and you weren’t answering the buzzer to your apartment either. He tries his best to ignore the strike of panic that sparks in his chest. It could stoke a wildfire, really, but he pushes it down and remembers to breathe. He doesn’t let himself think about what he’d do if something happened to you.

After all, you’re probably fine. Sleeping, maybe. The both of you had a long night ahead.

(Longer than either of you realize, really.)

It’s nearly seven o’clock, and after trying your cell one more time from his perch on your apartment’s stoop, Bucky decides to say fuck it.

A well-adjusted person might frown upon what he was about to do, but Bucky wasn’t exactly well-adjusted, now was he?

He rounds the back alley with long strides and easily finds that, with a little maneuvering, he can hoist himself upwards on top of the nearest dumpster. With a well-timed hop, he can also snag the bottom of the fire escape’s ladder and haul it downwards. The rest is easy, and he’s scaling the fire escape to the third floor with ease before he even knows it.

There’s even a smug little smirk on his face the whole time he does.

Finding your window is a little harder, but Bucky eventually spots Poke’s round little body smushed against the glass — it’s a dead giveaway, and after some prowling, he finds the window to your living room and unceremoniously throws it open.

It’s unlocked, for whatever reason, and he makes a mental note to have a conversation with you about safety and security in the city. After all, you never knew when an ex-assassin supersoldier was going to break in and pet your cat.

Upon opening the window, he pieces together pretty quickly why you’re not answering. Could be the music coming from your bedroom, or even the singing that’s coupled alongside it. From the bathroom across the hall from your room, steam has settled above on the ceiling. The whole apartment smells like fruit and soap and perfume and Bucky’s not really sure how to parse through all the sensory experiences that greet him with he shimmies in through the window, legs first.

All in all, they make him smile.

Bucky shuts the window behind him as he’s quickly greeted by Poke — the calico offers a gratuitous little chirp when Bucky bends to scoop up the cat. Easily, he melts. Poke is purring loudly in his ear as Bucky takes a moment to survey your apartment a little bit closer. Mr. Poke Bowl rubs his face against Bucky’s stubble as the man weaves through the kitchen.

It’s very you.

He isn’t really sure what that means at the end of the day, but all he knows is that he feels at home here. He feels safe. He feels comfortable. He feels like he can be himself. Not James, not Sergeant Barnes, not The Winter Soldier. Not even Steve’s Bucky, but just… his Bucky. Himself. Sarcastic and exhausted and a little cynical.

Bucky lets Poke down on the counter and moves to the fridge.

There’s still beer from the other night in there, tucked in the back, so he makes easy work on popping open a bottle and busying himself with petting a very adamant Poke.

As he sips the Leinenkugel, it’s no small coincidence that his phone buzzes again — for what feels like the hundredth time today — with a message from Janelle.

She was nice — pretty, too. Once upon a time, she would have been his type.

That was before he met you, though.

There’s a little pinprick of mortification at that quiet confession that’s been slipping into his heart more and more in the last few days. You are, after all, his best friend. He’s your best friend. Guilt swims with the feelings that have begun to pluck his heartstrings and he has to admit he’s not too comfortable with the song they play.

His biggest fear is fucking this up.

Fucking you up.

Honestly, his track record isn’t great. The whole defrosted-international-threat bit made it a little difficult to date. Janelle seemed to think the date had gone well enough, though, hence the handful of texts he’d been getting every few hours asking if he’s free.

Like usual, he ignores them.

Exercising his own free will is hard sometimes. Especially when it comes to saying no.

Taking another swig of the beer, Bucky shoves his phone back into his pocket and tucks his fingers back into Poke’s fur. The calico’s tail swings patiently as he sits and watches — and it’s a little weird how human his eyes are for a second there. He mmrrps and lunges for Bucky’s hand when he comes close, bonking his head eagerly against the cool vibranium.

It’s a different sensation.

That’s another big adjustment — learning how things really feel with this new arm. It’s not just handling recoil or gripping knives or throwing punches. It’s the soft tickle of fur, the gentle pressure of a warm rag to clean the joints. Meticulous upkeep wasn’t something HYDRA did often. He doesn’t miss the twinge of pain and molasses-like stickiness that came with a dirty arm. Blood was the worst. Always sat deep in the cracks.

He flexes his fingers. Poke meows again.

He moves to plop down on the couch. Poke follows.

You’re singing, still, to some song that Bucky’s never heard, when you push open your bedroom door and move towards the living room.

You jump six feet in the air and scream when you see him just sitting there, clutching a beer and petting Poke like he fucking lives here rent-free.

Bucky’s reaction is muted, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with your outfit and your jewelry and the pink eye shadow that creeps up your brow-bone. There’s glitter on your eyelids and lip gloss on your mouth and he can smell some sort of candy-sweet perfume coming off you. The plunging neckline of the jet-black top is enough to leave him shifting his gaze back up to your startled expression with a tight jaw.

His face is blank.

Then he offers that stupid fucking smile he does. Y’know, the tight-lipped one where he somehow maintains a dead-eyed look the whole time. If you weren’t trying to calm your racing heartbeat, you might have laughed. You hate the white-hot flare it sparks in your chest.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” you hiss, waving your hands.

“We need to have a serious conversation about locking our windows,” he says as he kicks his feet up on the coffee table and wags a finger at you, “Also, what are you wearing?”

“You — You fucking broke in through my window?”

“Yea, well, you were too busy pretending to be Britney Spears to hear me try and buzz up, and my phone calls.”

Sheepishly, you cross your arms. “Nice reference—”

A shrug from Bucky. “Thank you.”

“—Also, what are you wearing?”

He looks down at his usual t-shirt, leather jacket combo. He squints back up at you.

“I’m sorry,” he chirps, “You’re talking to me? Did the department store run out of fabric, Rabbit?”

You self-consciously adjust the plunging neckline of the bodysuit as you frown deeply. “I think I’m gonna skip on the fashion advice from the man who lived in a time where ankles were seen as scandalous.”

“I was born in 1917,” he mumbles as he stands, actively avoiding another pass over your outfit because as much as he hates to admit it, it’s not a bad look on you, “Not 1817.”

“Point being, we’re going to a club. And you look like you’re going to the local Home Depot,” you move to snag a set of dangly earrings that are sitting on the coffee table, “We’ve gotta look like we’re there to party, nothing more.”

Bucky sighs. He finishes the beer, places the bottle down and sheds his jacket. “So, what?”

You pry your eyes away from the flash of skin — his arm, flesh and blood, speaks to how strong he is. And, undoubtedly how easy it was for him to fucking scale three stories of the fire escape to bust in.

“So,” you mumble as you thread the earring in, “I have some of Jaimie’s old shirts. There’s probably something you can use… If they fit.”

Bucky exhales softly. “You kept them?”

“Didn’t have the heart to throw them out,” you reply as you gesture for him to follow you into your bedroom.

The back of your top is arguably more crisis-inducing than the front — it’s an open back, and Bucky settles on admiring the decor rather than the curve of your spine. He has to. For his own fucking self-composure.

Your bedroom is nice — and like the rest of your space, it makes him feel comfortable. It’s all warm colors and posters and plants in the corners. Across from your queen-sized bed, there’s a large desk with a triple monitor setup. That’s where the music is coming from. The little knick-knacks on your shelves and desk make him chuckle.

Then, he stops, halfway to the closet, and stares.

You blink over your shoulder as you bend, digging to the back of your closet to pull out the clear bin you’d piled most of Jaimie’s stuff into after the funeral. After you’d cleaned out his apartment on your own.

He’s looking at the poster — the one from Cap’s USO tour. It’s framed nicely, set up on the wall beside your desk. It’s got a gold frame, and Bucky can’t help but wander closer to look at the signature.

It’s Steve’s alright.

“How much did you pay for this?”

You scoff. Your necklaces tinker together. “Don’t even go there.”

“The jerk signed thousands of these,” he mumbles, crossing his arms as he leans closer, “And still, the fame didn’t go to his head.”

You smile softly, leaning back.

“Jealous?” you chirp, raising your brows as you pretend to swoon, “Oh, Sergeant Barnes, I’d just love to meet your dear friend—”

Bucky’s laughing as you swat at his knee, leaning back on the carpet like a damsel in distress.

“Shut up,” he snorts, “It’s a sore subject for me.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m serious — do you know how many dates I had to set up for the chump? And then, boom. I’m invisible.”

“Yeah, well,” you mutter with a smile, unclicking the lid, “Some people just like blondes, Buck. I’m sure there were plenty of eyes on you. Stop being so dramatic.”

“Yea, the best friend, sure,” he mumbles at the poster, “Hell, he was taller than me. You know you don’t need to lie to me—”

“Listen, if I was some Lauren Bacall-looking nurse back then,” you wave your hands, “I’d have gone for you. Alright? Stop lamenting and get over here.”

He goes quiet and ignores the warmth in his cheeks. He squats by your side. “Shut up.”

“We seriously need to work on taking compliments,” you groan, throwing your head back, “I’m being serious, y’know, for once. And I’m not just saying it as your friend. You’re handsome and everyone knows it except you, apparently. My neighbor agrees that’s for sure.”

He squints.

You wave it off and gesture to your outfit. “She saw me doing laundry.”

“That explains nothing,” Bucky deadpans, “Literally nothing.”

“I showed her a picture,” you cry indignantly, moving to shuffle through some of the old t-shirts sitting on top of the bin, “Relax.”

He moves to plop down, crossing his legs beneath him. He decides to let the topic die — again, for his own self-composure more than anything. The compliment, though vehemently denied by the worst part of him, is tucked neatly in the homes of his heart. The idea of meeting you, before now, is a little intoxicating. What would it have been like?

Would you have even spared him a dance?

Bucky rubs his cheek. Poke meows and buts the door open with his head.

You’re wrist-deep in the bin when you speak. “He’s obsessed with you, y’know.”

Poke has already taken up a post in Bucky’s lap. Bucky smiles, petting Poke gently with his vibranium hand. The cat seems to like the cool metal. Bucky mumbles softly down to the calico, scritching his cheeks. “I like him, too.”

You pause long enough to try and remember the sight.

Bucky’s eyes find yours, and you’re quick to turn back to the bin.

“Here we go,” you exhale as you pull out the shirt you’d been looking for.

It’s a long-sleeve button-down, one that you can distinctly remember Jaimie wearing to his engagement party’s after-party — a real typical night of Jaimie being Jaimie. It’s black with a barely-there red floral pattern. It’s flashy enough that Bucky won’t look horribly out of place.

The only problem is Jaimie was a little smaller than Bucky.

“Try this on,” you mumble as you dig around trying to find something else in case it doesn’t do the trick.

Bucky catches the silk shirt and gives it a once over. He raises an eyebrow, and deciding against debating this, he simply nudges Poke off his lap and stands.

He moves to your bed, laying the shirt out. On your closet door is a full-length mirror. You want to snap it in half when you accidentally catch a glimpse of Bucky hauling off his black, cotton t-shirt and anxiously fumbling with the buttons on Jaimie’s old shirt. You have to breathe — and remind yourself that that’s Bucky.

Your Bucky. Your best friend Bucky.

When he calls your name, it sounds far away. You’re busy angrily sorting through old clothes.

“I look ridiculous.”

When you turn around, the first thing you notice is that it’s a little tight. Not in a bad way, but the buttons are gapping along his chest, and it’s tight around his arms.

Your eyes widen a little and you swallow. You tilt your head.

Bucky’s frowning.

“Let me see,” you offer gently, standing and moving close, “It’s not that bad.”

“You don’t sound too sure right now,” he mumbles as you enter his personal space.

You’re nimble with undoing the top three buttons — it gives him enough room to move his shoulders, though, and the dip of the shirt along his sternum brings dog tags into view. You reach, momentarily entranced, and read them to yourself.

You smell like vanilla and sugar.

Bucky shifts in his boots.

“Y’know,” you say, moving to the sleeves, “I think this works.”

You roll the sleeves, stopping at his forearm.

When you step aside, Bucky can see himself in the full-length mirror. He looks less than enthused.

It’s not an entirely bad look — he’ll admit that much — but he doesn’t look like himself. No, there’s too much chest and skin and… Christ, this shirt is tight. He does, though, look like some of those trendy folks he sees at Izzy’s bar every now and again. Hipsters.

“I look like a douchebag.”

“That’s the point,” you chirp as you close the box and shove it back into your closet, “Now the outfit matches the personality.”

He swats at your head on the way by. You laugh.

You’ve got boots in your hand, and you land on the bed with a bounce. Bucky is busy fixing his hair in the mirror while you zip up the thigh-high boots. When he turns around, you’re about three inches taller. He blinks, yet again entranced by the outfit.

Then, you’re muscling on the jacket.

It’s neon pink — and shaggy and cropped. It falls just above your waist and swallows you whole. But, Bucky’s attention is mostly on the back.

There’s a large, white embroidered Playboy bunny there, with RABBIT written across the shoulders in a chunky, blackletter typeface.

His brows are high on his face when you turn around.

You freeze.

“...What?” you ask, “Something on my face?”

“Playboy bunny, huh?”

You could smack him. “Weren’t you busy being a frozen dinner when Playboy came out?”

“I’ll have you know,” he says tightly as he follows you out of your bedroom and to the living room, “The Russians enjoyed their fair share of editions.”

“The Russians? Sure, what’s that saying? There’s no sex in the USSR?” you chide, “You can just say Bucky Barnesenjoyed his fair share—”

The tips of his ears are red. You notice. It makes you split into a grin that worsens the pink shade that’s crawling up his neck.

He coughs. “Have you ever considered never opening your mouth again, Rabbit?”

You nudge his arm. “Nah. Bothering you is more fun.”

He shrugs on his jacket, sighs, and decides that keeping quiet is just easier.

However, that’s not entirely your plan — and you speak quickly as you pull your purse over your shoulder. You’re rummaging quietly, stacking your wallet and phone inside. You glance up at him.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he mumbles, bending to pat Poke one last time as you move to the door of your bedroom. He watches you flick all the lights off, and before you leave, you double check the calico’s food and water. He’s got enough for a few days. Bucky leans against the door frame, “Care to run me through the plan?”

Nodding, you move to open your front door.

“It’ll be easy,” you explain as you make room for him, “If we play our cards right—”

Bucky’s stopped, though, and is digging in his back pocket as his cell phone rings. You watch him exhale tightly, eyes on the screen the entire time he squeezes by you and starts down the hall. You make careful note of the delicate scowl on his face, only before you catch Miss Bonnie out of the corner of her eye.

Her door is half-cracked across the hall, and she’s watching.

She offers you a smile.

Bucky keeps walking.

You wave, lock your door, and jog to catch up to Bucky.

“Hey,” you call, “Earth to Mr. Claw Machine?”

His head snaps up. “Sorry.”

“Who was that?” you ask carefully, nudging his arm with yours, “Falcon?”

“I wish,” he mutters as he muscles the cellphone back into his pocket, “I wouldn’t feel so bad sending him to voicemail.”

“Yeesh,” you wince, “Lemme guess, was it the owner of the coral lipstick that was all over your face on Tuesday night?”

Again, that temptation to feel jealousy flares up in your heart. But, he’s here, isn’t he? With you. Ignoring her calls. And probably texts judging by the guilty look that’s on his face. You feel a little bad — but at the same time, Bucky’s a grown man. Maybe a grown man who needs to create some more transparent lines of communication with the poor woman, but still.

“Bingo. I mean — it’s not that she wasn’t great an’ all but…”

You raise both hands. “I’m not judging.”

He sighs raggedly as he bounces down the apartment’s stairs. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“What?” you ask with a laugh, “Dating? Yea, it’s pretty fucking terrifying, Buck.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

You hold the door open for him and slide him a pitying look.

“Because I am.”

The walk to The Glass Cannon is spent walking Bucky through the plan — and for the most part, he makes a point of nodding along and listening. His only real anxiety pops up at the mention of Alexei, which is relatable to say the least.

It’s dark, the streets are relatively quiet, and the spring chill has pricked your skin. Your heels click against the pavement, and you stalk along. Shoving your hands in your pockets of the pink, shag jacket, you huff.

You’re starting to feel the anxiety.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re both approaching the blue glow of the storefront.

Computers & Stuff was a family-owned and operated computer shop from the 90s that was taken over by a lesser-known hand of the Russian crime family in New York, the Gardzovs. Alexei’s father is the formal owner of the shop, and his son runs the lucrative activities of the underground club that lay beneath the graphics cards and motherboards.

Bucky, as you both near the entrance, speaks quickly. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Just follow my lead, okay?” you whisper.

The bell above the door dings when you pull open the glass door.

The lighting is sterile and if you’re real quiet, you can hear the dull hum of the fluorescents. The store is empty, save for one man behind the register.

You almost duck out the entrance at the sight of him.

Igor has been a bouncer at The Glass Cannon for as long as you’ve been a patron — and he’s also one of Alexei’s dogs. This part of the plan was something you’d considered only briefly, and for a second, you’re thankful you worried over the million and ten ways this would play out for days.

“Well, if it isn’t the little bunny.”

It’s said with malice. Igor’s tattooed hands land on the counter as he leans.

You, however, hold your head high. Bucky watches as something changes in your posture.

“Good to see you, Igor.”

“Is it?” he growls, stalking around the counter and quickly encroaching on your personal space, “Because I’m pretty sure you’re not welcome here, bunny.”

Bucky gets a good look at the man now — clearly an enforcer. He’s got prison tattoos, a shaved head. The long beard is a weak spot. Doesn’t seem to be armed. Blue eyes flick to you and the way you don’t even flinch when the man leans to breathe right in your face.

You just smile.

“I thought you’d say that,” you mumble, moving to swing your bag to the front and dig your wallet out, “But, I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

Suddenly, there’s a hundred-dollar bill slipping from your well-manicured nails into the vest pocket of the bouncer. There’s a tense pause, then, while the two of you size one another up.

“Fucking your way through college paid off, huh?” he hisses.

You stay quiet.

Bucky, though, moves between you both with a quick shove. Immediately, Igor’s attention goes to Bucky as he sizes him up — he laughs. His nose is nearly touching Bucky’s.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy?”

“You should watch your mouth,” Bucky says evenly, “Or I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”

You’re careful to hide your expression; the feeling the words stir isn’t one that you’re happy about. This sudden protectiveness, though, makes you feel some sort of invincible.

Igor settles back on his heels.

He steps back.

He gestures to the back room with his head.

You keep walking when he calls out: “Careful, bunny, the dogs are going to be looking for you.”

You grit your teeth tightly and push through the fabric curtain.

He barks, taunting you.

Bucky is by your side in an instant, gaze still rooted over his shoulder at the hulking bouncer. He waits until you’ve settled down until you’ve said his name. His eyes fall to you, then to the stairwell before them.

Above it, in curled neon tubing, reads The Glass Cannon.

The windows are blacked out, but from his spot at the top of the stairs, Bucky can feel the rattle of a deep bass vibrate his ribs.

“Come on. We’re on a time crunch now.”

“Alexei?”

You nod as you lead the way down the stairs. “Word travels fast. We need to be quicker. Stick to the crowds. Remember, we just need to find Kiwi — then we bail.”

Bucky nods tensely.

Then, you open the doors.

Immediately, his eyes adjust to the darkness — neon and strobes and the pulse of purple and pink LEDs make his vision swim. It’s warmer down here, and the stairs leading down into the sub-basement is lined with people sipping drinks and chattering over the loud music. It smells like piss and beer and tobacco.

Again, Bucky watches as the person he knows melts away.

The Rabbit in front of him is different.

You reach, as if on reflex, for his hand.

When you turn around and flash him a smile, he has to swallow down a sudden rise of sheepishness.

The sea of people part around you, and Bucky realizes quickly that people recognize you. He can see their painted lips moving, muttering things into curious ears about the pink-clad woman in front of him; there are smiles there and frowns, and shock. You’re slow in your descent, making a show of the arrival — all while Bucky begins to piece together that The Glass Cannon is larger than he originally suspected.

As they near the bottom of the landing, he can see out across the floor.

There’s a square-shaped catwalk around the dance floor, laden with dancers on their designated poles. Tables line the outside of the cavernous room, and the bars along each wall are crowded — even still, these glimpses of his surroundings come in temporary flashes of light. The music coming from the center of the dancefloor is loud. The entirety of the scene is raucous.

He can’t imagine you finding solace here.

He tightens his grip on your hand. You squeeze back.

When both of you reach the bottom of the stairwell, the sea of people swallow you in a current of dancing and drinking and laughing, and you crawl into Bucky’s personal space to shout in his ear.

You’re still holding his hand tightly, pressed to his chest, as you lean upwards to brush your cheek with his.

“Follow me, okay?”

He nods.

You begin the methodical crawl through the dancefloor, working your way to the bar — there, you pause long enough to be served a drink that’s as pink as the glitter on your eyelids. The flecks dance in the lights, and Bucky graciously accepts a shot from the bartender who smiles sweetly like honey at you.

You bat your lashes, thank her, and stand gracefully from the barstool.

You take a pointed swig and scan the floor.

Kiwi would be in one of the private booths, you suspect — she was enough of a high roller here. But, with the crowded club bursting at the seams, it was nearly impossible to get to the other side. You sway a bit on your feet, still tightly gripping Bucky’s hand in your own. You refuse to let go.

For your sake and his.

Bucky is a silent shadow, eyes roaming the club — he watches a dancer dip down low and snag a green bill from a patron. Someone beside him laughs loud, another bumping into his backside as you continue to weave to the outer rim of the room. The music is so loud his heartbeat could be mistaken for an 808, and he feels the thrum in his bones.

If he wasn’t so overwhelmed, if he was drunk, maybe it could be fun.

Finally, out of the haze of bodies, Bucky can breathe.

You’re leaning over again, speaking quickly.

“I don’t see her.”

“I can’t see shit in here,” he calls back, eyes moving along the ridge of the room. He scans the booths set into the walls, set up on platforms, and roped off with velveteen, “Where would she be?”

“Hard to tell,” you mumble, “But I think I might need to go to Plan B.”

Bucky follows your solid stare.

In the booth directly across the floor from you, there’s a man in black — black everything, save from his hair. That’s the brightest blue Bucky has ever seen. He’s swallowed by a harem of men and women who are laughing and drinking and dancing, and he’s entertaining. Ringed fingers wave in the air, face split into a laugh so wide he swears it’s a mile long. He’s got glasses on and they’re tinted blue.

Bucky watches carefully as you move to his booth.

It’s like a prey surveying a trap — you’re careful.

Finally, when you stand before it, you let go of his hand.

“Hi there, Climber.”

The whole booth falls silent. The man stiffens, back turned to you totally. Bucky watches as his hands fall and slowly, the man you’d called Climber turns around.

His expression is stone cold.

His voice, however, is as warm as a hot poker.

“Oh my goodness, is that Rabbit?”

He ascends from the booth, platform boots leaving him to tower over you — he’s no small man, either. Bucky watches as he bends to kiss both of your cheeks and hug you tightly. He, however, doesn’t pull away entirely.

“What the fuck are you doing here,” he hisses, “You want to be roadkill?”

“I need to find Kiwi,” you whisper quickly, expression almost begging, “Please.”

He pauses, dimpled chin wavering a bit. Bucky watches him sniff, push his glasses back, and readjust his posture. Climber licks his lips and his eyes dart to Bucky. He’s thinking, Bucky realizes, and after a quick moment of deliberation, he seems to cave.

“Only because I owe you.”

“I know,” you say, raising your hands, “I know.”

In a dash, his demeanor changes once more. He’s flying over to his harem, waving his hands and blowing kisses and promising he’ll be back in a flash. They whine, they moan, but Climber appeases them with another round of jello shots from strobing syringes that a waitress is carrying by.

“Come on then,” he says, “And stop looking like such a prude.”

He begins to weave.

You follow hand returning to its spot in Bucky’s like a lifeline.

You’re sipping your drink, moving through the crowd easily. There’s a slight sway in your step now, and at one point you and Climber even get noticed by a pod of people who recognize your faces. It’s met with laughing and squealing and in the fray, the both of you slip back into the crowd. Bucky is taking it all in, desperately ignoring the tingle of a panic flaring in the back of his head.

Too many people.

Soon, though, Climber is moving towards a side entrance.

It’s a back room.

Suddenly, the dim lights and neon dissolve, and instead, Bucky is flashed in the face with the abrasive sting of fluorescent lights. It no longer reeks of spilled beer, and his boots don’t stick to the ground. No, there’s quiet chatter back here — Climber continues to lead the two of you through a maze of supply crates full of booze and soda.

Then, a right turn. And a left turn.

Someone is taking inventory.

“Kiwi, I know you’re going to hate me for this—”

The woman who turns around is beautiful. She’s in the midst of eyeing an open crate that looks just like the others but fitted with a hollowed center, marking off what looks like an inventory of burner cell phones. Her brown skin is decorated with glitter, her eyes streaked with the same green shade of her tightly shaved head. The green is bright and it reminds Bucky of summer.

Suddenly, her expression sours.

“What the fuck.”

“I know—”

“No,” she snaps, raising her hand and waving to the assistant beside her to take her tablet and make themselves scarce, “You need to get out of here.”

“I need your help,” you say finally, tone heavy.

It’s enough to make Climber sigh. Kiwi watches you, scratches her neck, and swallows.

She meets Climber’s eyes.

Then she breaks.

“Where the fuck have you been, Rabbit?” she asks, worries seeping into her eyes as she pulls you into a rough hug, “We thought you were dead.”

“No,” you shake your head, “But you know I couldn’t be around here anymore.”

“Yea,” Climber snorts, “Not good for your health, huh, love?”

“Alexei still wants your head,” Kiwi chimes in, crossing her arms, “Does he know you’re here?”

“Igor was on the door, so I’m sure he’s heard by now.”

Both of them curse.

Guilt flashes across your face as you screw your eyes shut and nod. “I know. I know, I just… I seriously need your help, Kiwi. It was worth the risk. It’s — HYDRA. I need to tap into the Alexandria Library.”

Immediately, the woman stiffens.

Her eyes flash to Bucky in the corner. He stares back.

“He waits outside.”

“You can trust him—”

“No,” she snaps, “I can’t. And I don’t. And I won’t.”

You give Bucky a pleading look. Between the two of you, a negotiation happens between your eyes. It’s a compromise, and finally, Bucky relents.

“Fine,” Bucky barks, tilting his head and giving you a tight-lipped smile, “Fine. I’ll wait out here.”

“He’s cute,” mumbles Climber as Bucky rounds the corner, long legs carrying him out of the supply room, “Boyfriend?”

“Shut up, Climber,” you mumble, waving your hand, “Just listen—”

“Who is he?” Kiwi asks, eyes still watching the doorway, “And why did you bring him along?”

You sigh, rubbing your brow. “He’s the one who’s trying to find this HYDRA agent. He knew her before.”

“So he’s HYDRA.”

“No,” you snap cooly, “He’s not.”

“So, just handsome, then?” Climber asks, hands waving, “Right. Great. Really making a case for yourself, Rabbit.”

“He’s trying to find a woman named Innessa Sidrova. She was one of the original agents who helped form the American HYDRA cell,” you explain quickly, “I’ve got the GRC breathing down my neck, and… And he’s a good person. He’s my friend. I’m trying to help him, but I can’t do it without you. Both of you.”

Kiwi hums. She sighs. “That explains why you went MIA.”

“Aside from putting Alexei behind bars?” you scoff, “Yea, the GRC played a part in it.”

The three of you are quiet for a moment.

“Fine.”

You look up at Kiwi. Her hands are on her waist.

There’s an immense wash of relief that floods over you at that moment — and from the looks of it, Kiwi can tell. You move to grab her hand, and she grabs back. Both of you smile, and the hug that follows is warm. You’ve missed her. A lot.

“Thank you, Suji.”

Then, footsteps.

That relief is traded in for an anxious backfire of fear in an instant.

It’s slow. Dress shoes on polished cement.

Then:

“Oh, bunny, bunny, bunny. Tsk, tsk.”

Climber and Kiwi’s faces upturn to the doorway and they tell you everything you need to know.

So, you decide at that moment that you won’t be the prey tonight.

You turn around and come face-to-face with a man playing devil.

Alexei Gardzov is a handsome man — a beard and piercing grey eyes. His hair is tightly cropped, and intricate tattoos decorate every inch of his skin. Some of them are new, you realize, and there’s temporary pride that bubbles up at them. They’re from prison.

You almost smile.

Behind him, three goons loom.

“I’ve been wondering when you’d come hopping back,” he croons as he enters the room with the swagger of a man who trapped his dinner, “Well worth the wait, I think.”

His cologne hangs like smog in the air. He strolls up to you, and in a flash, he’s got your hair in a vice grip.

He yanks it back, you grit your teeth.

The barrel of a gun digs into your cheek.

“Climber, Kiwi, and Rabbit,” he sing-songs, “All in one room again like it’s NYU’s 2014 hack-a-thon. Isn’t that cute?”

Kiwi speaks. “Alexei—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, gun moving to flash towards Kiwi, “And stay out of my business, Sujina.”

The gun’s muzzle is cold. He’s rough, and you try to ignore the twinge of pain that comes with his unceremonious yank of your hair. Once more, he tsks. His breath is hot on your face. He smells like cigarettes and whiskey.

“I spent seven years behind bars,” he bites, “All because a’ you.”

“Me? I wasn’t the one trafficking girls—”

“SHUT UP!”

The pistol cracks across your cheek and the cement floor hurtles towards you. The gasp that falls from your lips is from shock; your fingers dig into the cold ground as you try to blink away the blurriness. Your ears ring. Blood drips from your cheek between your fingers.

Again, there’s a hand in your hair.

Now, the fight begins.

Climber and Kiwi are stuck, frozen in fear.

You don’t blame them, because Igor and the others have guns already drawn. One of them, one that’s young and you don’t recognize immediately, has a baseball bat in his hands.

Alexei drags you by your hair as you grimace, refusing to scream. Your heels scrape against the ground as you try to get purchase, but he’s quick to throw you back against the far wall.

“Don’t worry, Bunny,” he smiles, “I won’t kill you. Not right now.”

Then, a kick.

Right to the ribs.

You can’t breathe — you gasp earnestly at the white, hot shot of pain.

“Get up.”

You’re not listening, you’re too busy trying to catch your breath.

“I said,” comes a growl as he reaches, hand in your hair again as he drags you up the wall. Your legs buckle, and you try to hold your chin high as you stumble upwards, “Get up.”

Then, there’s a hand around your throat.

Tight. Too tight. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t get his hand off your neck, can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t fucking think, can’t stand, can’t see, can’t breathe —

“Boss!”

A new voice.

The pressure is relieved for a second.

A new face has run into the room — he looks frazzled, hair askew and gun out. He’s eyeing the scene before him in a moment’s pause.

“Can’t you see I’m a little bit busy?” Alexei snags as you gasp, clawing at his hand. He swings his head to the figure in the doorway with an annoyed bark, “What is it?”

“The cops, boss,” he stammers, “They’re here.”

“What?”

“They’re here for her, boss.”

A slow turn to where his finger is pointing. His gaze lands on you. Alexei laughs.

“Well,” he says as the goon disappears, “Isn’t that just peachy, bunny?”

The choking starts again.

Then, a metal hand.

Vibranium.

You watch it swing, you watch it grab Alexei’s throat.

Suddenly, you can breathe.

Suddenly, Bucky Barnes enters the fight.

You make friends with the ground again as you duck, just as Alexei is rammed into the wall above your head by his throat. As you cough while Kiwi calls your name — you can hear a fight. But everything’s moving slow, and it’s not until the first gunshot that you’re kicked into action. It’s loud. Your skin pricks alive.

Someone screams.

You stumble to your feet, eyes finding Bucky’s form moving quickly between the three goons — the gunshot had come from the pistol that had somehow found its way into Bucky's flesh and blood hand. One of the men is on the floor, suit pants stained with a bullet wound through the thigh. He’s wailing. Bucky doesn’t notice. Or he doesn’t care. Maybe both.

His face is cold.

Another gunshot is fired off, this time richoting between you and Kiwi and Climber and embedding itself into the cement wall overhead. The three of you scream, ducking reflexively.

That’s when Bucky snaps.

“Now would be a good time to go!”

Kiwi’s hands are on your arm as you quickly break through the doorway through the storage room. Climber is following, checking over his shoulder at the carnage that Bucky begins to reap in the room.

He’s hysterical, trying to jog in his white platform boots. “What the fuck, Rabbit!”

Your voice is hoarse. You’re clutching your ribs. “Not now, Climber!”

“I’m parked in the back,” Kiwi says, ducking through plastic flaps as she helps you through the back of the club, “Come on, we’ll go through the trucking entrance.”

You hear Bucky call your name — he’s jogging to catch up, gun drawn in his hand. Seems like he made good work of the others, sporting nothing more than a split lip. You turn, pausing for a moment to take inventory of his well-being.

And that’s all it takes.

Alexei Gardzov, limping, steps in front of you and Kiwi and Climber at an intersection in the hallway.

There’s a gun in his hand.

The first thing you feel is the impact.

Like a truck slamming into you at full speed. For the fourth time tonight, you have the air robbed from your lungs. It’s instant confusion.

Then comes the pain. Hot. Hotter than the sun. Hot like white flames. It tears through your shoulder and all you can do is gasp; you’re sent into a stutter step — and while the world around you continues to move, you’re busy reconciling with the fact you’ve just been shot.

A bullet flies by your head.

Alexei Gardzov drops.

You’re grasping at your chest, staggering, when Bucky breaks into a sprint — but you’re okay. You’re okay, it’s just your shoulder, it’s just your arm, you’re okay, you can feel your fingers and you can breathe and the pain is nearly unbearable but you’re okay.

Then, a baseball bat.

It clocks Bucky directly in the skull. He’s clotheslined.

It’s Igor.

The gun from Bucky’s hands clatters across the ground to your feet, and you’re too busy trying to get to Bucky to realize — but, you’ve got tunnel vision and adrenaline and at that moment, you think a good sidekick doesn’t need anything else in this life.

Igor goes to swing at you, but you duck. Your stiletto crushes through the top of his shoe. He screams and in a flurry of pain and panic, you manage to snag the bat quick enough to turn and clock him under the chin with a roll of the wrist.

His teeth clack together and he falls backward, unconscious.

“God, I really wish you could have seen that, Buck.”

You spit. Blood paints the ground.

The bat clatters to the cement as you fight through the pain. Kiwi and Climber are by your side in an instant.

“No, no!” she screams, “We do not have time for this—”

“I am not leaving him,” you snap, nearly screaming at the woman, “Come on and help me with him. Now.”

After a sigh of resignation, Kiwi shoves the gun she’d snagged from the ground into the back of her jeans. You’ve got your hands around Bucky’s ankles as Kiwi and Climber take his torso — and the four of you make a break for the back entrance. You can hear the cops outside now, and there’s the chatter of Russian following you into the back parking lot.

“Hurry up!”

“He’s not exactly light as a feather, you know!”

“Shut up, Climber!”

You’ve got Bucky halfway into the back seat of Kiwi’s white Cadillac when another bullet whizzes by your head.

“Fuck.”

Kiwi hops into the driver’s seat as Climber scatters to hop the hood and throws himself into the passenger's seat. You lean, clinging to the door of the backseat as Kiwi peels out of the parking lot. It swings wide open and you curse loudly. You can see Alexei’s men watching from the back entrance, shouting in Russian — so you muster all your strength to pull back and throw the door closed as Kiwi’s car bounces over a speed bump and rams through the parking meter’s gate.

In the rear window, the front of the club is surrounded.

Red and blue lights illuminate the street — but Kiwi is quick.

No one follows.

And when she finally makes it to the Manhattan Bridge, you exhale.

Bucky’s head is in your lap. He still hasn’t come to — there’s blood coming from his nose and you’re worrying. You lace your fingers into his thick, brown hair and chew your lip.

Kiwi’s voice pulls you from him.

“When were you going to mention the vibranium arm, huh?”

You laugh. It’s more of a breath of air than anything. Your head rests back against the seat. Your shoulder is still on fire. You’re hot, but cold. You’re bleeding still. Your ribs aren’t right. You know that.

“I can’t believe he shot you,” Climber mumbles, “He fucking shot you.”

“And your boy toy shot him,” Kiwi says, sparing you a look in the rearview, “So you better pray he’s dead.”

You ignore the commentary.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe,” she says, accelerating into Manhattan, “Where I can get you those files and you can keep your head down.”

Sounds like a plan.

Better than the one you had, anyways.

#vacant mirrors #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #tfatws imagine #bucky x you #BOY OH BOY THE FORMATTING I WANNA SCREAM

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dancingkirby · 6 months ago

Text

As both a writer and a reader, I guess I should do a few of both. This got pretty long so it's under a read-more.

My fics (in the chronological order that I posted them):

Dissolution Fandom: Yugioh 5D's. Rating: M.

Summary: The formation and breakup of Team Satisfaction, as seen through the eyes of Crow and Kiryu. Darkfic.

Into Open Waters Fandom: Legend of Korra. Rating: M.

Summary: When forced to flee their home with a small child in tow, Eska and Desna begin a journey of self-discovery.

Umbra Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender. Rating: M (Heed the tags; this story gets really dark in places.)

Summary: Four of Ozai's ladies during the Day of Black Sun, and how they got there.

Queen of Fire, King of Ice Fandom: Yugioh GX. Rating: T.

Summary: Inspired by Silvormoon's fanfic "Manjoume Family Vacation." Before setting off for Tempest Top, the brothers first must seek permission to go there from a mysterious queen. A series of misunderstandings ensues, and Manjoume becomes re-acquainted with the person he least expected (or wanted) to see.

The Properties of Love and Hate Fandom: Yugioh GX. Rating: M.

Summary: Amon looked amused at Ed’s continued silence. “If you desire my wife so badly, I have a little proposal for you. You can have her, on one condition…I get to claim you too.”

Volatile Elements Fandom: Yugioh GX. Rating: M.

Summary: Fifteen-year-old Taniya, the youngest of the Seven Stars, is planted at Duel Academia as a student by Kagemaru. But with a romantic relationship that’s perhaps not quite what she anticipated, a struggle with increasingly divided loyalties, and a cryptic prophecy, her hands are going to be full this year.

NOTE: Unfinished.

Maternal Instinct Fandom: Yugioh GX. Rating: E.

Summary: Taniya and Misawa celebrate their anniversary in their own special way.

(I'm also proud of my most recent fic, Subject One, but @soaringonblackwings already posted the link to that. Thanks so much for doing that, BTW!)

Other People's Fics:

WARNING: The first two fics are from the Harry Potter fandom. I am no longer a participant in this fandom and never wrote any fanfics for it myself, but there were some real gems and I, personally, want to still be able to enjoy them despite how JKR is a horrible person and ruined everything.

FINDING HIMSELF by Minisinoo. Rating: M.

Summary: The-Boy-Who-Almost-Died has to figure out what it means that he didn't. Harry's tumultuous 5th year at Hogwarts is Cedric's 7th and final. Bound together by shared trauma, both boys fall under Ministry suspicion ... Who is Cedric Diggory? Cedric!Lives AU

Recall Alice When She Was Just Small by Harmonic Friction. Rating: M.

Summary: Dudley Dursley: champion boxer, crass chav, cannibal?, bad boyfriend, good son, annoying cousin, best friend. It's hard to keep all the identities straight. Fin.

The Blood of Kings by @silvormoon. Fandom: Yugioh 5D’s. Rating: T.

Summary: Fantasy AU. Being king is hard work. Jack is doing his best to rule his war-torn kingdom while dealing with his upcoming marriage and the uprising of a mysterious cult. More than one person wants him dead, but only one is trying to kill him...

End of the World Series by FernWithy. Fandom: The Hunger Games. Rating: G-M.

NOTE: I don't care what the upcoming book/movie say; THIS is always going to be my canon!

We Must Be Killers: Tales from District 2 by lorata. Fandom: The Hunger Games. Rating: G-M.

Ozymandian by @frostbitepandaaaaa Fandom: Game of Thrones. Rating: E.

Summary:

She should have been more prudent, instead of falling into him like a spell. She should have handled this thing like the fatal tangle of thorns it was, instead of drinking the air from his lungs like the sweetest Arbor gold. She should have picked it up about the edges, holding it at arm’s length until she could find a safe enough place to rest it upon the earth and walk away forever.

(Chapters 1-5 are a collection of Missing Scenes from Season 7. Chapter 6 is when we begin our own journey into possibilities for Season 8)

NOTE: And speaking of me ignoring canon...

Changes by NerdyMama. Fandom: Pokemon Sword & Shield. Rating: E.

Summary: One night, one error of judgment. Now Leon and Sonia's friendship is set to change forever.

Ozula Kinktober by @azulas-daddy-kink Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender. Rating: E. (HEED THE TAGS!)

Summary:

Enjoy, you filthy perverts!

Going to try and complete all 31 days, but I'm not making any promises. Chapters are standalone unless otherwise specified, some will be modern AU or diverge from canon for convenience. R&R!<3

The Tainted Soil of the Fields of Arcadia by @inkblackorchid Fandom: Yugioh 5D's. Rating: T.

Summary: Following an eye-opening confrontation with Misty Tredwell, Aki decides she might have to face up to her past if she ever wants to be free of it. After approaching Mikage with a curious request, she ends up with the last remains of the Arcadia Movement--and starts digging.

Fanfic writers!

Use this post to share some of your favorite fanfics you have written. Share the links so we can read and show you some love.

Fanfic readers! Share some of the fanfics you enjoyed reading, your favorite writers, or any fanfics that just make your day. Show our fanfic writers some much needed and deserved appreciation for all that they do for fandom!

#fanfic #fanfic recs

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kittydemon9000 · 3 years ago

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The Beginning of Heatstroke, aka Red's Villain Origin

* crashes down from the ceiling * I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED ONE OF MY 5+ CURRENT WRITING PROJECTS! BEHOLD, A WRITTEN VERSION OF THE 'Red's Villain Origin AU', also known as RVO / Heatstroke AU

To summarize the AU for SPBNR for those that don't now it:

“Who'd be the biggest conspiracy theorist out of the M!Ninja? The one who drinks 5 hour energy at 3am and spits off the craziest theories and then actually gets it right but nobody gives the theory any merit because the rest of the theories are too crazy?”

The answer: Red / M!Kai

Red: Okay hear me out: Smith is actually an alternative version of one of us sent here from another dimension.

The other M!Ninja: You’re just saying that because Smith’s cool and you want him to be your counterpart

Based on the M!ninja making red cork boards trying to figure out ‘What Is Up With Smith’: Red gets increasingly accurate and nobody will believe him (all pre shogun reveal) and he eventually snaps and takes up a secret villain persona to fight Shogun like 'if they won't believe me I'll do it myself' and it gets awkward when he accidentally does too much damage and catches not only Shogun's attention like planned, but also the rest of the Ninjaforce, and now he has to keep his own identity a secret

So, without further ado, I present... Heatstroke

------------

Red blamed the 5-hour energy coffee blend at 3:00am for this.

It was no surprise that between ‘Operation: What’s Going on with Smith’ & the sudden appearance of Shogun that the resident Bounty red-stringed ‘joke’ cork-board doubled in size and seriousness. It also was no surprise that Red had a corner all to himself and that his theories were… in the words of the others, ‘wildly inaccurate and implausible’.

But this time, he was sure he’d gotten it right.

Smith is Shogun sent here from another continent/planet/dimension with the goal of protecting Ninjago City.

The latest string of laughs and scoffs at his theory was the last straw. He’d show them. He’d prove it!

Which was why he was currently standing on the roof of a noodle house, awkwardly adjusting the spare motorcycle helmet he’d ‘borrowed’ from Nya and painted black and orangey-yellow (red had seemed too obvious). He’d exchanged his Ninjaforce outfit for a soot-burned cross between a bomber jacket and a leather jacket. Down his back jutted a row of flames like the spines of a monster, courtesy of one of Nya & Jay’s unfinished inventions Red had modified- surely nothing bad would come of that!

For tonight, the Red Ninja was off-duty. For tonight, it was Heatstroke’s turn.

He fiddled with one of the weapons he’d ‘lent out’ from Master Wu. It resembled a small arm canon, like a smaller version of the Ultimate Weapon. The plaque under its post had read ‘Elemental Focuser’, which, in cryptic Wu speak, probably translated to ‘you can use an elemental power like something out of Avatar: The Last Airbender’. So far he’d only figured out how to activate a focused jet of fire. Well, at least it was on brand. He hoped it would help him catch Shogun’s attention so he could unmask him.

He’d tried confronting Smith at school, of course. But there were only so many ways of saying ‘are you the new vigilante helping the ninjas’, and Smith has a genuine talent for dancing around the topic. Red could confront him with the name Shogun to get a proper reaction, but that would mean explaining how he knew the name and outing himself as the Red Ninja.

So fake villainy really was the only way.

His plan was to use the Elemental Focuser to cause some minor petty damage, just enough to attract the new vigilante. Perhaps set a trash can on fire, block an alleyway with rocks (if he figured out how to change the setting from fire to earth), small things that could easily be repaired.

Of course, plans were never actually stuck to. One way or another, something was always improvised.

Red’s improvisation just happened to involve him accidentally setting the entire alleyway on fire.

He’d only been aiming for one dumpster, honest! And maybe he’d spotted a couple fliers for a SoG meeting on the ground and happened to burn those too. And a newspaper article blaming Lloyd for the recent Garmadon attack, again. And an article about those ‘Damn Ninja Menaces’ by a S. Sonah Sameson. And-

Okay, so maybe Red had aimed the fire at a few small targets. But just a few! And with good reason and good care, but…

Well, fire liked to burn. Give it enough kindle and it’ll continue to grow, stretching like reaching branches towards each other to join in a massive bonfire.

So now the entire alleyway was on fire, and Red was panicking.

He’d luckily chosen an abandoned part of town near the beaches where Shogun sightings seemed most frequent, but with the stupid Elemental Focuser not switching from fire mode to water mode or ice mode or something that didn’t have the potential to burn Ninjago City to the ground, Red had no way of stopping the flames.

And more flames meant more destruction which meant a bigger audience.

Which was why his previously muted comm suddenly flared to life, the only warning Red had before Nya’s water strider mech slid around the corner.

Red scrambled onto a roof as the mech drove past, spraying water at the bonfire to dose it. His sigh of relief was just as quickly dosed as Lloyd’s voice came over the comms; “Status, Grey?”

“Flames are out,” Nya replied. “Pursing the joker that set it ablaze.”

Uh oh. Red took off across the roof, leaping from building to building. Tiles creaked, pebbled and dust scattering underfoot. The sounds of the mech’s engine roaring behind him echoed through alleyways below to create the illusion the mech was everywhere at once.

As the chase grew on, more mechs started to join in. Red ducked into a narrow avenue to avoid Zane’s tank, then under a cafe overhang to throw off Jay and Lloyd. His heart hammered in his chest and he groaned, filling the inside of the motorcycle helmet with steam. Saying this was going ‘bad’ would be the understatement of the century.

What had he been thinking? Oh wait: he hadn’t. Seriously? ‘Oh I’ll just pretend to be a villain real quick, that should get Shogun’s attention and not the attention of literally my entire team of fellow ninjas!’ Stupid, impulsive, this was why everyone was always calling the red ninja the ‘hothead’ when he really tried not to be- Lloyd’s voice over the comms snapped him from his thoughts. “I can’t catch them! It’s like they know our every move!”

Red winced as he climbed up a banister and leapt from balcony to balcony. Sorry, Lloyd.

He didn’t miss how the others asked Nya where Red was. And how she made up excuses the others bought so easily- granted, he’d told those excuses to his sister before setting his plan into motion, but still, ouch. They acted like he was simply being at best too busy and at worst lazy and selfish.

He just wanted them to know the truth! Why couldn’t they at least try to believe him when-

Of course, that was when Shogun dropped out of the sky and tackled him.

Red shouted with surprise as he tumbled down from the second floor, slamming into a few softer bags of garbage to break his fall before rolling and slamming into the unforgiving concrete. A crack formed in his vision as the visor of his motorbike helmet smacked into the concrete ground. One of the fire jets on his back sputtered and sparked, sending a thin wisp of smoke into the air.

Shogun pinned his wrists to the ground and growled. “Who are you?”

Red tried to break free, agony turning his muscles and bones to fire with the movement after his fall, but the vigilante was too strong. Damn, how often did this guy train?

“Who am I?” Red said, a nervous tinge to his voice. He quickly smoothed it over with faked confidence. “Who are you? Who are all of us, really?”

Shogun narrowed his eyes behind his hood. “Did Garmadon send you? Or someone else?”

Red sputtered. Really, the nerve! Garmadon? The thought turned his insides to disgusting mud. “Nobody sent me!”

“Then why are you here?” Shogun spat.

“Why am I here?” Why was he here again? Oh right, the bright idea on how to reveal that Shogun was Smith. “It’s, uh… a valid reason! That I don’t have to tell you!” He tried for a villainous laugh. Stay in character, don’t blow your cover, you got this!

Shogun was unimpressed. “Nearly burning down my home was a valid reason?”

“Well, I wasn’t trying to set everything on- wait, WHAT?” Uh oh. “You LIVE here?”

Now it was Shogun’s turn to look uncomfortable, though the expression was quickly wiped from his face. “Nothing wrong with this district.”

Red nodded. “‘Course not. Uh, sorry about that… wasn’t my intention, I swear.”

Shoot, he could hear Jay’s jet getting closer. He had to get out of here, but Shogun, annoyingly, didn’t seem to be in the mood to simply let him go. “Then what is your intention?”

“Well, for starters, it’s getting out of here. This really isn’t going to plan and I’d rather just be home right now, or even inventing a time machine like in that book ‘Hands of Time’ to slap my past self in the face for even thinking about this stupid idea in the first place-“

Jay wasn’t the only one that could ramble under pressure, it seemed.

Shogun leaned closer. “What idea?”

Red shrugged as best he could with how he was pinned to the ground. “Well, for starters, I just wanted to prove to my friends that you’re Smith, and things just kinda escalated from-”

The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he said.

Shogun lurched back, letting go of him. His eyes betrayed a kaleidoscope of emotions; surprise, worry, suspicious, hurt, fear, realization.

“…Kai?”

Well, f!ck.

“I-“

Red was about to badly attempt to bullsh!t his way out of his identity reveal before it suddenly dawned on him that Shogun had not denied his theory.

Which meant Shogun was Smith.

And it also meant Smith instantly recognized him as Kai, which, considering his disguise, was aptly concerning. Sure, he was the first one in his group of friends people would think to do something this extreme but give him some credit! Zane was a regular detective, he’d do the same if it meant answers! Or, well, at least something similar. And Nya could be an adrenaline seeker. And Lloyd- well, maybe not Lloyd. Or Jay, either. Cole had his head just enough on his shoulders that he probably wouldn’t do this either.

But come on, instantly guessing it?

Well, at least Smith/Shogun didn’t know Kai was the Red Ninja. That would be a catastrophe.

Right. Back to the current catastrophe at hand.

Shogun- Smith- still had a look as if he’d been slapped, and Red hated it. He hadn’t meant to hurt his friend. Shogun… Shogun hadn’t wanted them to find out his identity. And then Red had gone and done it, just to prove that he could be the smart one, or a leader, or the protector so they didn’t get hurt, or literally anything but just the ‘hotheaded one’.

…And he’d done it in the most hotheaded, impulsive way possible.

He really was an idiot.

The cracked helmet hid the look on his face, a twisted mess of distraught and shame. But it didn’t help hide how he took stumbled to his feet and away from Smith, nervous that any second he’d spill another mistake and mess up again, like how he always freaking messed up on everything. Don’t pick this fight, interject there instead, no, not there, idiot, there, FMS why are you so useless-

Focus, focus.

Lloyd’s voice, sharp in the intercom and full of static from his tumble, snapped him from his thoughts. “Anyone got eyes on the arsonist?”

Red caught Smith’s eye as he raised his hand to his own communicator. He was so screwed, so busted, so doomed… Smith would report it, and the others would know, and they’d think he was just messing around in an alleyway with some stolen devices and weapons out of curiosity or rage, - and-

“None yet, still looking.”

…What?

Smith stared at him, gaze searching. He looked shaken, more so than Red- who’d just taken a fall from a second story, mind you, it was a miracle he wasn’t more injured than a couple small scrapes and some future bruises-, yet everything from the set of his jaw to the softening of his furrowed brows suggested a change in emotions. Well, not quite change; more like repress and replace.

“You wanted to prove yourself, didn’t you.”

Red flushed, hand instinctually clamping into a tight fist at his side. The still-working fire jets on his back ignited without him pressing any buttons; faulty activation from the fall or something.

Palms up and hands raised, Smith silently asked to defuse the situation. “Didn’t mean it as an insult. This wasn’t about venting some anger, was it.”

Red’s lack of response only confirmed it. Smith continued. “I won’t say anything about this if you don’t tell anyone my identity. Deal? I know finding it out was important to you, but-“

“Deal,” Red interrupted. Guilt ate away at his core, like a wave of water dousing a candle. “Smith, I-“ He swallowed hard and stared at the alley floor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… to…”

Smith’s hand was suddenly on his shoulder and he flinched before relaxing as Smith didn’t move further, nor did the grip tighten. “I’m a little hurt, you’re right. But I’m not mad. And I won’t tell the others, so you can relax. But you better get out of here and get yourself an alibi. We can talk at school or something.”

Wow, he was handling this rather calmly. Red was struck by the sudden memory of- what did Jay call the word? Right. Compartmentalizing. That… wasn’t healthy. But at the roar of Lloyd’s mech somewhere nearby, he didn’t comment further. Instead, he shot Smith a grateful nod and ran down the alley, sticking to the shadows and blind spots of the flying mechs and the tight alleyways where the land mechs couldn’t reach him.

When he got home, miraculously without further incident (though Shogun leading the others on a wild goose chase over the comms certainly helped there), he ditched the outfit in a bag hidden beneath a loose floorboard in the shed. He’d return the weapon to Master Wu’s ship later, and… well, hope Nya never searched for the missing supplies. There wasn’t a way of fixing it without involving her or Jay, and neither was an option.

Heatstroke was back off duty, and so was the Red Ninja.

For now, he could just be Kai Smith. And there wasn’t any issue with that.

…

Right?

—————

yooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THIS IS AMAZING REHJJGFHDESFXJVZ

and ah yes, good ol trauma and compartmentalizing, we love to see it

#We love ourselves some good ol aus #same people but not really #Spbnr #spbnr aus

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loremonster · 2 years ago

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Things that happened with me in the last decade I didn't fuckin expect

Writing for the Batman fandom -> realize I'm a pansexual disaster who had a repressed crush on their best friend since gradeschool and that's why I was always trying to play matchmaker for him cause I wanted someone to love him the way I would have

Writing for the South Park fandom -> realize I'm nonbinary but didn't have the language to describe it even 5 years ago because my parents were conservative assfucks who tried to Just Not Talk About It even tho MY MOM IS THE MANLIEST MOTHERFUCKER I KNOW like 24 pack of beer let's go cut down a tree and set up a bonfire to cook over with a cast iron skillet, but LITERALLY cannot focus indoors long enough to cook an egg because OH SOMETHING OUTSIDE NEEDS TO BE DONE ( she has caused 2 fires ) and GLEEFULLY recounts whenever she's called Sir instead of maam or miss

Still Writing For The South Park Fandom -> Meet enough other autistic folks that I share life experiences with that I begin to seriously consider I may have been misdiagnosed as a kiddo as ADHD

STILL Writing For The South Park Fandom -> Fully accept I Need Help with my mental and physical health and recommit to the overwhelming process of dealing with the health system, including persuing gender affirming care once I got back to WA

Get overwhelmed when lockdown happens

Stop in the middle of an unfinished holiday special because dear god lockdown was hell and financial difficulty had forced hubby and I to move onto base where the national anthem played EVERY DAY at dawn and dusk ( a ritual known as Colors ) that IT IS EXPECTED FOR CIVILIANS TO STOP WHAT THEY ARE DOING, FACE THE NEAREST SPEAKER OR FLAG, AND REMAIN STILL UNTIL ITS OVER, but no one tells you that. Ever. If you're driving, you're expected to pull over with emergency flashers and wait until the anthem is over. Again, you are not TOLD this, and base police will come after you for it and threaten to revoke your base privileges; meaning RENDER YOU HOMELESS if you live on base.

I suddenly got REALLY interested in cults

Learned way too damn much about the Alt Right, as well as the older hate movements they grew from

Started Writing And Drawing In The Fallout Space -> Realize I'm a socialist and Holy Shit All The Things My Parents Told Me About History And Politics Was A Gigantic Crock of Shit They Got Sold In The 50's And Never Fact Checked

Burnt Out In The Fallout Space -> wow I really need to do more yoga if I'm gonna draw that much, stretching is important folks pls take breaks for the love of all that is good and holy

Lost My Routine From Burnout -> hoooooooly shit I'm Autistic how the fuck did I not realize this????????

Still Burnt Out -> but goddamn I DO WANNA DRAW THAT MUCH! I WANNA MAKE COMICS AND ILLUSTRATIONS WITH MY STORIES! I WANNA MOVE MY SHIT TO AO3 AND LEARN HOW THAT SHIT WORKS BECAUSE IM PROUD OF MY WORK AND I WANT TO SHARE IT, DAMNIT

That's where I'm at, lol

#personal #long post #stoner thoughts

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famoustruth · 2 years ago

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♣♦ Wizard Hearts ♠♥

Whee!! Although I'm still somewhat new to the fandom I really wanted to participate more in the community and seeing all the fun things that come out of the Game of Drarry community, eagerly signed up for my very first WH. It was a lot of fun to work with my team and cheer each other on and of course, binge some wonderful Drarry. 🤩 If you love to read Drarry, like low pressure and light competition, and bonding with other Drarry lovers I highly recommend giving it a try! Here's my response to the survey with some thoughts and of course highlights of what I got to read!

1. So I had to participate in a bit of an unconventional way as when I started on my reading, I was going abroad and traveling for a few weeks. Knowing I'd have spotty connection, I made a list of all the tropes and picked out fics I planned to read for each, marking down the lengths. I actually have been out of reading/writing for several months as IRL and other things got in the way, so I wanted to ease myself back into it! I ended up picking Fool Moon by Piarelei to read first, as it was on the shorter end and fulfilled the werewolf trope and from the tags/description, I knew I would love it. And I wasn't disappointed! It was humorous and spicy and just the thing to whet my appetite. After finishing I was hungry for more! 👀 2. The last fic I ended up reading was for the period/historical trope. This just happened to be the last because while I was going through my list, I had to do a couple passes to find fitting fics I hadn't yet read. I am kind of really shite at searching for fics on my own and this being a trope I generally don't go for, I struggled to find something that would pique my interest. Enter the super helpful people who rec'd Romp and Circumstance by wolfpants! This was a delicious and extremely well-written fic full of supremely hot moments and exceptional pining. Although I am far from an expert I would say the period setting made the debauchery all the more fun. 3. While I enjoy pretty much every single Drarry I consume because I am a simple person who isn't a very deep thinker, Mosrael's Love Bites, Or How Draco Malfoy Learned to Let Go and Celebrate His Allure really stood out to me. And given the aforementioned, in my case I feel like that really says something haha! I won't lie and say I do gravitate towards the fast and dirty, short and overly indulgent fics that scratch the itch from the get go but Love Bites was simply put, incredible. 🥺 The premise was golden from the start and combined with impeccable writing, fun and lovable characters (of course Draco and Harry are a given but the supporting cast was just as colorful and endearing), and a really fucking empowering message, you'd be hard pressed to find another fic that does what it does. I cannot stress enough how much I loved this story! 💜 4. My strategy for choosing fics to read was pretty straightforward: for the most part I had ample success with firing up AO3's search feature and pulling up Drarry fics that were 10k+, completed (I refuse to read anything unfinished because I hate waiting!!), and of course had the specific trope. I usually sort from newest to oldest because I think I have read a decent number of older ones and because those have been around longer, I feel like they've already got tons of eyes on them so might as well try and check out something newer? Well it worked to varying degrees of success haha. Then I just scrolled through and read the tags/descriptions and picked something out that caught my eye! For a few tropes that I was really unfamiliar with/wasn't sure what the tag to search for was, I asked others for recs and got some really nice recommendations. 5. I'm fairly certain that a veela fic was one of the very first Drarry fics that I ever read, and it is one of the tropes that I find very fun and entertaining. I ended up reading Once and Never Again by Avonne for the mpreg card but it is a veela Draco Malfoy fic and was absolutely brilliant! I was actually very intrigued by the veela lore that Avonne came up with, and it was doubly amusing to read about it through Draco experiencing the symptoms of nesting and such without having any clue just what the fuck was going on. I know those are common themes in a lot of these fics but it felt creative and refreshing to me! Definitely a very fun (and hot) read, highly recommend! 7. Of course it would have to be from Eye of the Storm by OTPshipper98. 🥺 How could my heart not be torn to shreds while reading this? 😭 The descriptions of Harry's abuse and how it affected his mental state, Draco's empathetic and delicate treatment of Harry, them coming out of the experience having both been put through the wringer... The writing is exquisite and painful and heartbreaking. I absolutely teared up at the part where Harry is trying to ask Draco for a hug but doesn't even know how to oh no I am tearing up now just thinking about it damn! If you want to be repeatedly punched in the heart and then hugged tightly this is the fic for you. 🤧 8. I don't think I've actually read anything under the period/historical setting trope before this. I can somewhat have interest in more fantasy type historical settings, but if it's just set in like, Victorian England or something similar I usually don't have much care for it. Not sure why, maybe because I have a bias that things back then were more boring haha but I never had a Pride and Prejudice phase (never even read it 😅) so I guess that ship just sailed long ago. However, I ended up reading one for a joker card at the recommendation of someone in the Drarry server and it was fantastic! It definitely helped that it had several other tropes that I am VERY into, but Nightcall by Femme and noeon was expertly written and I was quickly drawn into the Edwardian AU they created. Literally could not put it down, and this was the longest fic in my list at 116k words. xD

9. I think this one would have to be the first person POV trope! I'm sure I'm not the only one who struggles with getting into first or second person POV fics but I read InnerLilith's Once More With Feeling and was blown out of the water. As it has to do with highly emotional themes, getting to follow the experience through Draco's perspective, completely and fully, was certainly a treat. Honestly, I wonder if the fic would have even worked as well as it did were it NOT first person. Experiencing things through his narration made everything more elevated and vivid, sympathetically.

10. Even long after I've finished reading monika672's The Unfortunate Complications of Being an Animagus, this scene has stuck with me because when I read it, I just thought it was the FUNNIEST fucking thing.

Harry broke out into hysterical laughter, because only he would accidentally fuck his former enemy in wolf form. Only some cosmic joke would have them both being wolf animagi. And so he laughed. Because what else could he do? “Mister Potter, are you alright?” Harry turned to her, his head light from laughing. He could feel himself swaying where he stood. He saw Malfoy still frozen in place, and looked towards McGonagall again. The shock was quickly catching up to him, as he looked into McGonagall’s face, “Not at all Professor.” he said, before his vision turned black and he passed out.

Just the sheer hilarity of poor Harry having the most world upending revelation, having a hysterical laughing fit, and then fainting made me lose my mind. 😂 This fic is incredibly sweet (and spicy) though, and is a great read. 11. Although I'm not sure how to even categorize the emotions I felt about this (complex, painful, frustrating?), corvuscrowned's Ad Infinitum has emotions in spades. There's so much angst and inner turmoil that both of the boys are fighting through; being in a committed relationship of my own, it's honestly one of the scariest things in my life to think about what I would do if my partner ever wanted to leave. Given their history and personalities, their struggles were real and terrifying and you just never know which way the dice will fall. Of course I am glad that they continue to fight for their relationship and always want them to have a happy ending. 🥺

12. Nooooo! How could I pick but one? 🙈 Ugh I think this has to come down to a tie... although I really love the creature tropes (veela, werewolf, vampire), accidental bonding, and coffeshop AUs have a fucking MURDER HOLD on my heart, at the very top would probably be a close tie between Hogwarts eighth year for HP specific and soulmates more generally. What can I say, eighth year fics just hit different for some reason - maybe because of all the volatility that comes out of the direct aftermath of the war when things are still so fresh and raw, and the variability people take with having their relationship/attitudes still being contentious or having a tired Harry taking note of a subdued Draco etc! I just can never say no to an eighth year fic. And just across the board I am a sappy sucker at heart and the idea of soulmates never fails to make me weep! 😭 I love all things sweet and fluff (but won't say no to a dose of angst 😏) and soulmate fics have it all. Plus I feel like there are so many different takes on how it is implemented, so it never gets old! 13. Since we had 2 joker cards I ended up skipping 2 tropes, polyamory/threesome and trans character. The first one I skipped because I am a to-the-death purist, I only like Drarry and just Drarry. So that's a hard stop on what I am willing to read, relationship wise! Sometimes I even have trouble reading fics where the other has prolonged or otherwise relationships of import with other characters, but generally as long as I know Drarry is the endgame that is usually enough for me. 😅 And I skipped trans character since it's not something that personally resonates with me and I do already have my set mental image of Drarry being generically speaking, fairly close to their canon incarnations, so on that note I don't read gender bends either. 14. As I searched for fics to read specifically by trope tags rather than ambling through someone's works, it was sheer coincidence that I ended up reading 3 fics from one writer! And that writer is the lovely drarrily-we-row-along. 😊 I read Accidental Bonding (forced proximity), A Kiss to Build a Dream On (aurors), and Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (holiday). All of them had wonderful writing and characterizations - the interactions between Harry and Draco, while of course wildly different across them, were fun and lively and definitely had the essence of Drarry that I love. Whether they are snarking at each other with barely disguised disdain (and lust) or being incredibly sweet and tender with each other when emotional support is needed, I love it all! Now that I have free time I shall definitely be looking into more of their works. 😄 18. This is a really tough question because I think you guys balanced each of the suits incredibly well! There was good variety in each and I appreciated that. God can I just say all of them? 😂 Sitting here thinking about it I've literally changed my answer several times in the past minute lol. If I HAVE to pick one, however, I guess I will have to go with Pentacles! Pretty much every single trope in that suit is one I thoroughly enjoy reading (if not, part of my all time favorites list) so I definitely had a lot of fun completing it. 21. First off, thank you so much for running this event! I've ran similar point accruing/submission checking events before and I know it's so much work to stay on top of everything so thank you for your dedication and hard work! 🥺💜 The effort you guys put into having all the bonus activities on theme and with so much flavor text made everything that much more special and immersive. 🤯 As it was my first time participating I really had no idea what to expect aside from the spreadsheet, so the activities were a really fun surprise and helped foster that team spirit/camaraderie! I struggled to understand a little bit what was required for them at some points but I am fairly certain that is just a me problem lol. 😂 The only other things I guess I would want to note is that from my perspective as a fairly competitive person, knowing the point differentials of the teams from the start might have felt like a detriment/discouragement? Certain teams seemed to have higher participation than others and if I were on a team that was lagging behind with a huge gap, I might have felt less inclined to put my own numbers in. Maybe that's just a me thing but perhaps just having the rankings without the specific point totals included would be better for morale. Also, personally I worried that I over participated in the team activities which I was conflicted about. 🙁 Not to say I didn't want to participate - of course I did and had a lot of fun getting to collaborate with others - but I was scared that I was doing too much and not letting others have a chance... but then the deadline for the activities would be just around the corner and no one else had bandwidth so I just did it anyway. 😭 I just really wanted to make sure our team got the points so I hope I didn't step on anyone's toes. 🙃💦 But overall this was exactly the kind of event I needed to reconnect with Drarry after getting a bit burned out/dragged away by other circumstances so I am really thankful that I got to participate!! 🥰

#drarry #game of drarry #wizard hearts 2022

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