#they just served to be really hard to catch in the endgame i guess

[front-facing-pokemon]

[lambourngb]

For the first sentence meme: “I didn’t have the words then.”

TITLE: there’s too much smoke to see it

PAIRING: Michael/Alex

TAGS: hurt/comfort, temporary character death, getting back together, lots of talking, lots of sex, brief forlex, malex is endgame, canon typical friendships between everyone

SUMMARY: He had run out of time in making things right with Alex, which honestly was the worst part of dying in Michael’s opinion. It would have been good to die without leaving behind regrets and things unsaid. But then he survived and nothing changed, or did it?

This is finished, 15,858 words.

****. 

“I didn’t have the words then.”

Michael glanced down at the fading bar of his cell phone battery in his hands, before turning to muffle the rib-shaking cough of dirt and grit from his throat into the bend of his arm. In their long history of loving one another, hurting one another, pushing each other, dragging each other back in, this was probably the cruelest thing he has done to Alex, leaving a goodbye message recorded on his phone.

The air was getting thinner in the cavern, the mix of carbon dioxide slowly taking over the available oxygen. Michael wasn’t sure if Mr. Jones wanted him to die from lack of water and food, or suffocate in the sealed space, only that he wanted Michael to suffer. That much had been made clear to Michael as he laid on the rocky ground with the depowering serum coursing through his veins. This was meant to be both his prison cell and grave, sentenced and executed for the crime of being his mother’s son. “I read up on these overly intelligent beasts you’ve surrounded yourself with, and I know they had your mother for a long time, tortured her for years, but it wasn’t by my hand, which lacks a certain emotional closure for me, I’m sure you understand.”

Collapsing the mouth of the abandoned mine with telekinesis, Michael’s last view was the self-satisfied expression of his brother but-not Jones, backing away with a sketched-salute.

After the dust settled and the walls stopped rattling, Michael had taken a quick accounting of the situation. A quick pat down of his pockets had revealed his multi tool, his truck keys and his cell phone, which was half-charged but with zero signal from the insulating barren rock walls of the mine. He had swept the meager flashlight over everything, hoping that he would find a place where there was water seeping in, or evidence that there was a forgotten shaft, only to be met with disappointment. What was even more concerning was that the mineral composition of the mine was unfamiliar to Michael, different from the patterns of strip-mined turquoise he recognized from the caverns that sheltered their pods. 

He wasn’t in Roswell. It was possible he wasn’t in New Mexico at all. The black void from his last memory of leaving his bunker for the night and waking up on the unforgiving ground with Mr. Jones smirking above him could have stretched anywhere from hours to days. 

Michael had paced around the small confines and had traced each crevice with his fingertips for some sign of give to attempt to dig himself out only to realize Jones had brought down the side of the mountain on him. Without access to his powers there was little hope of moving the rock debris on his own. The last time he had been dosed by Helena Ortecho, the effects had lasted for several days, including those frustrating moments when Jesse Manes had held a gun on Alex and then him at the Crashcon. Lucky for all of them that Gregory Manes had been there, and even more so for Maria’s quick thinking with the other bomb.

Luck took a faraway vacation from Michael after that night between getting unceremoniously dumped by Maria, to watching Alex move on easily with Forrest Long, to now. 

When the feeling of his old friend, hunger, began to gnaw at his stomach, he had some hope that the serum would wear off in time to save himself, but then slowly that hope faded from his body when the desire to eat grew quiet, sleeping inside with the burrow his missing powers had made in him.

He was trapped and the executioner’s axe, swinging down on him inescapable, was time. 

Thinking about time, like usual, sent Michael’s thoughts turning down the familiar roads in his mind and heart to Alex. At first, as he pillowed his head on his arms and stared up at the endless black of his prison, he had pretended there were stars above him and Alex was next to him. The rocky ground was just as unforgiving as the metal bed of his pickup truck. He was used to that fantasy, pretending Alex was there with him but just far enough away Michael couldn’t feel his breath or touch his skin. 

It had kept him going during those years when Alex was serving overseas under a whole different starlit sky. It had fueled him during the surprisingly harder times, when Alex was serving in the next state over, one timezone, two at most, but the separation was wider than the Atlantic Ocean under Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. It had kept him hopeful as well, waiting during the in-between times of those scarce visits on leave. And then finally, Alex was serving in Roswell, but by then it was Michael who was out of reach, pulled down so deep in grief and pain he couldn’t see a way forward at all, let alone picture Alex nearby in his mind's eye. 

Now he was out of time to wait and see if maybe the fates would be kind enough to grant them one more chance at being together. 

The screen on his phone went black during his too-long pause. That was happening more and more, thirst was not enough to keep his thoughts sharp and his mind on the task. He kept drifting off on tangents, and time slipped with them as he worked to find the words to say goodbye to Alex. The battery life of his cell phone was dying under every pause, goddamn it, he needed to focus.

“I didn’t have the words then, to tell you how bad things were that summer. You know the one. I know I was too much for you, for anyone, hell even for myself. But… I didn’t mean to do it though, to make you the only good thing in my life back then- that was too much to put on you, when you were just a kid too, trying to survive.” 

His skin was tight and dry, he couldn’t spare the moisture to cry, but his eyes burned with the need. “I blame myself, you know, for you leaving that first time to join up. Going to war. I know you what you said, about wanting to learn how to fight battles and win, but I’m not dumb, Alex. I know your dad catching us together was the real reason. You were trying to fly under his radar, to get out of the house and disappear to California or New York once you turned 18, and I ruined it. And I’m sorry-”

Another rib shaking cough seized Michael’s body, ripping through his throat like a wildfire, leaving ash in its wake as he tried to close his lips around it and hold it in uselessly. It was futile, trying to protect Alex, but he hoped that Alex would hear this goodbye, hear how slow and sleepy the words were and perhaps picture Michael’s death as being a peaceful slip into oblivion. Not the true state of affairs, that he was fighting for air as the walls of the mine seemed to creep closer and closer with every inhalation.

Like the rest of his previous attempts to protect Alex in his life, he was failing again.

 “So, that apology was twelve years overdue. It wasn’t your fault I was a mess back then. And, the shitty part is Alex, if I had to relive that summer again, I can’t promise I would do anything different… except, maybe I would have been there to say goodbye to you.” 

The bar on the phone was slipping closer to the critical red line. 

“Guess that’s what this is. This recording. My poor attempt to make amends and give you a proper goodbye. I don’t have enough room on my phone or battery life to apologize for everything I’ve done, and honestly, what good are apologies? They don’t change the past. I think we did the best we could at the time. It is just- I lied before when I said I used to think we’d end up together.”

That bittersweet morning of watching Alex walk away one last time had changed something inside of Michael though he didn’t know at the time. He had thought he could close the book on their sad story and move on, trying as hard as he had with Maria, only to have that same damn book hurled at his head after Crashcon by Maria when she had ended things. He had spent so much time holding his and Alex’s story open in his heart, that the book didn’t close anymore. The spine was cracked, the binding bent in all the places where they had loved each other and hurt each other, that it made it impossible to shelve again and move on. All it took was the softest breeze of memory; the cover would flip open, and then Michael was right back in the middle of their story again, knowing that he would love Alex forever. 

His thoughts were wandering again, bounding down hallways of melodrama. He almost laughed at the metaphor he had crafted for Alex; that their love was a roughly handled book. Forrest would appreciate it, being a researcher and lover of libraries. Forrest seemed to appreciate everything that Michael hadn’t. 

Michael forced his eyes open, struggling to make sense between the black that circled his vision and the black of the mine. “I tried to stop thinking about it, picturing it, you and me, making a life together. I might have succeeded for a little bit, probably long enough for you to think I got over you. But I didn’t. It never really took. So yeah. I really thought we were going to have more time together. Time to try again. Or like, really try for the first time. I was ready now, to be good to you.” His lips cracked as he smiled in thought, the taste of blood sharpening his attention. “I had these big future plans. I was just waiting for- for the right time.

“Now I’m out of time- fuck, is it cruel to tell you this? I don’t want to be cruel to you. I love you. So much. So, I’m sitting here in the dark, and I’m trying to think good thoughts. God, Alex, you’re every good thought in my head, and I was planning on showing that to you, if you still wanted me.”

If. Michael forced himself not to linger on that. It was a huge ‘if’, considering how happy Alex was at the moment with someone else. Amazing what sharing hobbies but not trauma could do for a relationship. Well, Michael could admit it, that he was selfish enough at this moment not to care. He had held all these thoughts inside for so long, their only company his lost opportunities and dead dreams about finding his family. If he was going to die here, so be it, he didn’t want to leave anything unsaid.

“Maybe you don’t, maybe all you have for me is love in the past tense and that’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve stood there before myself, when my tank was dead-empty, and I couldn’t trust that another go-around would take me anywhere but back to heartbreak. Just, if you could indulge me one last time? I want you to know how I saw us.”

His lips stung, the cut breaking open again as he uselessly tried to wet them one more time. Michael curled around his phone holding it close to his mouth, his head was too dizzy to hold up anymore, but he pushed on, this was the important part of his message. “So, the plan was this. It is the same plan I had when we were 17. We’ve both taken some detours, almost got lost even, but I think this was where we were heading. A house, a yard, kids. We were going to have it all. I was going to play the guitar, you would play the keyboard, our daughter would play the drums, our son the flute because fuck gender stereotypes, am I right? Of course, you would have to sing, my voice only sounds good when I’m backing you up.”

The battery hit the final red bar of warning. There was a splash on the phone screen. Carefully Michael brought it to his lips to lick the precious tear away for moisture. His body had surprised him one more time, with tears. 

“And yeah, that’s the gist. I would back you up on everything in our dad band, but you have to let me be the disciplinarian about homework, okay? Also, you don’t know this about me, but I make the best breakfasts ever. That was going to be what I led with by the way, if you were ever single again. I was going to make you breakfast and woo you. Every day for the rest of your life if you wanted. Whatever you wanted. I just want you to be happy… I love you.” 

He closed the recording, saving it as the phone shut down on the exhausted battery. It wasn’t perfect, his last message to Alex, but then, when had he ever managed to tell Alex everything and get it right? He never had, and would never get a chance again. Never. 

Michael tucked the phone into the pocket of his shirt, resting it over his heart and shut his eyes. He was aware that he was breathing harder, his lungs were looking for more non-existent oxygen in the closed off mine. Hopefully, he would slip into unconsciousness soon and feel the weight of grief that had taken up lodging in his chest sometime after the age of 7, finally check out. Evict that pain at last, and he could be free. 

It was the bitterest irony of his current imprisonment.  

***

continued on AO3 -

[cinnamontoastandtears]

thank you for the tags @mithranqueer and @rufusrant vv happy that y’all thought of me haha 💕 (and thanks for the awesome questions @dustino)

have you ever written rpf before, or are the beatles the first you’ve ever done it for?

yeah, no, the beatles are the first and most likely the only rpf thing i’ll ever write. i’ve written fictional character ones before that but they were shitty so the first thing i ever posted was beatles too.

what’s your favorite ship to write and why?

starrison... because it just is, i have really no idea. they have the dynamic of the kind of relationship i want, i guess, (plus majorly awesome side-character energy) so yeah.

easiest beatle to write?

george. his personality is scarily similar to mine, so all i really have to do is think how i’d handle (x) situation.

hardest beatle to write?

paul. which is strange bc every mclennon fic ive ever written is from his perspective lmao. i think it’s hard for me to write him because i don’t actually like him very much and he gets on my nerves.

original era or modern au?

modern, but i can tolerate original if i throw period-typical homophobia in the bin. don’t like writing that.

least favorite pair to write?

mcharrison.. mostly cause they’re just such great friends and ugh, will die for some good mcharrison bromance (writing a fic like that now lmao...)

do you read or write more?

write, sorry to every fic ive ignored, but multi-chapters stress me out so much especially if they already have upwards of like 10,000 words. (very sorry if i’ve ignored your work, it’s really not your fault i promise) if i catch a multi chapter in its first couple updates i’m more inclined to read it. (but yeah, i write way more to the point where i have several almost finished fics in my drive, expect a week soon where i just post them all ahajkdks)

aus or canon compliant?

i mean i guess modern au if that counts? or them as like, anything but musicians because that’s hilarious.

ship you’d like to see more of?

uhhh... lenstarr or lennison (create the content you wish to see)

au/trope you want to see more of?

nothing specific. (but i love drunken confessions and bed-sharing, specifically together)

fanfic trope pet peeve?

ARCHETYPE BEATLES. archetype beatles can fucking kiss my ass. no sweeter-than-sweet ringo, depressed/moody/angry george, way-too-much-of-a-“leader” john, and paul the a) over-the-top drama queen or b) the Most Serious About Music™️. hate those. please be complex :))

prefer to write one shots or multi chaptered fics?

oneshots. but i did just start a multi chapter one you can read here if you’re interested 👀 (it’s sort of crack, idk if that hurts or helps)

on a scale from one to ten, how much has fanfiction taken over your life?

like maybe 6-7. it’s a lot.

do you have an author you look up to?

YES. literally all of them omg. seriously @mithranqueer @measuredoutinyears @dusted-0negin @celeste-fitzgerald @rufusrant @muzaktomyears @blobfishmiffy you all are very cool and i always feel very nervous to talk to you 😌

what’s a fic you can’t get tired of no matter how many times you read?

(time to sift through my bookmarks)

by @measuredoutinyears

a love that’s shining all around here - starrison (literally the first beatles fic in my bookmarks)

because you’re sweet and lovely - starrison (oh my god)

by @mithranqueer

baby, you’re a rich man - starrison (ahhhhhhh them as mob members is crazy and perfect and you know??)

by @blobfishmiffy

beatle toast (but gayer) - lennison (vv accurate for their dynamic)

a push in the right direction - starrison (the obliviousness and denial and the lenstarr bromance = everything)

by @celeste-fitzgerald

if this was a movie - starrison (i think the first time i read this i had to get up it was just so sweet)

by no particular author i know the tumblr url of:

peppermint kisses - mclennon (it’s christmas fluff i mean come on)

drunken lovers. - starrison (what did i say about drunken confessions)

attracts me like no other lover - george/everyone with endgame starrison (not sad but made me cry)

do you have a current fic obsession?

will you be mad if i say my own?

how seriously do you take fic writing?

not as serious as i should maybe, if you measure how much i don’t try and how much i live off of people’s praise :D

tags before the nsfw: ... @muzaktomyears (vv sorry if this is like the third or fourth tag, but y’all already talked about some of my favorites)

do sex positions (top/bottom) effect your enjoyment when reading or writing a fic?

kind of ?? more in the next question

do you have a preference over who’s who at all? if you do, then what are they?

in lieu of the confusing answer i had, here’s the six main ones:

mclennon: top john

starrison: prefer top george but either one is fine

lennison: top george

mcharrison: either way

mcstarr: mostly top ringo, maybe top paul

lenstarr: top ringo

this stems from the deal that if i read a ship and one or another of them is the top the possibility of me being able to picture it another way goes down (like first come, first served sort of)

is there any kind of kink you have to fight back including in every fic?

nor unless you count dirty talk which i always put in there anyway

when do you feel comfortable adding a smut scene in your fic, if it matters to you at all?

i guess in truth, i’ve only written a couple of fics (posted and unposted) with smut in them, and in a decent half of them i used sex to represent a deeper emotional connection rather than, like, because i was horny (but i have like 4 of those too so if you want i could..) /hj

[mrsbarnes107]

Secret of the Widow

-part seven-

Summary: Post Endgame time period. The team is healing, trying to navigate this new normal they’ve found themselves in when Bucky and Sam bring home a stray with an attitude and a secret. Will the broken team take her in? Or is it too much to bare?

Warnings: language, *eventual* violence and smut, death, fluff, angst

Pairings: Bucky x OC

Disclaimer: this is posted to Wattpad as well and it WILL HAVE PLOT. I’m a Bucky hoe so there will be smut and romancy stuff but this is a series, so plot plot plot and slow burn.

Something was blinding me and I was wrapped in a cocoon of warmth.

I cracked my eyes open, sunlight streaming in and effectively burning my retinas. A big yawn escaped as cat stretched across my bed, popping my joints deliciously.

Of course that's when I noticed that I was in my bed. The bed I was very much NOT IN last night.

I stumbled to the bathroom, throwing on some spandex shorts along the way. The mirror revealed a very distraught woman. Jeez I'm a mess. Puffy eyes, wild hair, pillow creases on my cheek. With a sigh I throw my hair into a bun and wash my face and teeth, staring down my reflection.

Where on earth did this ginormous hoodie come from? This thing is like a dress, I cant even see my shorts and I KNOW it's not mine.

The fact that i cried hard enough to pass out and NOT feel someone carry me to my room AND put a hoodie on me is very concerning. I need to reign in these emotions, no matter how hard it is being back in the tower.

I slip some fuzzy socks on and check the time. 6 am. Of course.

Making my way quietly down the hall I snuggle more into the cozy hoodie. It smells like musk, man, and crisp night air. This is mine now.

No one seems to be awake, so I decide to treat the team to an extravagant breakfast of waffles, bacon, and eggs. But first a very very large cup of coffee.

As the aroma of Heavens most beautiful creation fills the room I have FRIDAY shuffle my music, broadcasting it in the kitchen loud enough to dance around to but not wake the others.

Food is almost done when I'm in the middle of singing into the knife I grabbed to cut up some fruit.

"SHOT THROUGH THE HEART AND  YOURE TO BLAME" chop chop chop "YOU GIVE LOOOVE  A BAD NAME"

I toss the knife behind me and spin around to flip the bacon, catching it with a little twirl. "I play my part and you play your games oooh you give loveee"  I begin setting the food on serving trays "a bad name."

As I'm dancing around the kitchen, enjoying the peace of cooking in an empty space, flicking the knife in the air and twirling it in my hand, I hear the team start to get up and around.

"She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean" what a great way to start the day, bomb music and a dance party. "She was the best damn woman that I ever seen. She had sig-" as the knifes handle lands deftly in my palm, someone interrupts my concert.

"I feel like I should be serenading you right now Doll. Lookin like that, cookin food like this, definitely the best damn woman I've ever seen."

With a squeak I had launched the knife towards the voice, Bucky plucking it out of the air, right in-front of his amused blue eyes. He was leaning against the doorway, legs crossed and sleep rumpled hair. Apparently he's been there a while and apparently he was blessed with beauty no matter his state of dress.

"Barnes what the hell! Warn a girl, jeez." I put my hand over my heart to calm it while pouring a cup of coffee, walking it over to the super soldier. "And damn straight I'm the best. Glad you've noticed."

He follows me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter sipping his drink. "You're pretty skilled with this." I guess that was his warning as he catapulted the knife towards my stomach. Well I deserved that, I thought as I caught it while skipping a few songs.

"You'll come to learn I'm skilled in a few things." I say with a wink. "Although, I don't think anyone works a blade like you do Sarge."

I look up to find him staring at me with a weird expression before he shook his head and smirked. "Well Doll, I could always give you some pointers if you ever wanna train with me."

I'm jamming to Back in Black when the rest of the team walks in. Throwing Bucky a smile over my shoulder and a quick "your on, meet after breakfast?" He gives a nod and sits at the island beside the others.

This could be fun. Or a disaster. Definitely not a good idea. But a fun one for sure.

I'm still bouncing around to AC/DC when Sam scowls at me. Well he looks like a grumpy kitten in the mornings apparently.

"You are definitely Tony's creation." He grumbled, followed by a thank you, as they started scarfing down breakfast.

•••

"Hey Ali, why are you wearing Buckys hoodie?" Peter mumbled around a giant bite of waffle, food flying everywhere.

I paused for a second then continued pouring myself some more coffee, giving Barnes a quick glance that he avoided, deeply interested in his bacon apparently.

"Oh I forgot I was still wearing it, sorry Sarge." I said with a chuckle. "Couldn't sleep last night so I watched a movie and Barnes ended up joining me. I got cold and he was ever the century old gentleman."

That earned a scoff from the old man.

"We're still leaving at lunch right? I'm craving a taco from downtown." Wanda pipped up from across the island.

"Yeah that sounds great, I'm gonna get a quick workout in beforehand."

Peter glanced up from his waffle mountain "Do you think you could stop by the lab and help me out with something? When you're done shopping?"

I see Bucky staring at me in my peripheral, eyeing the smile I force onto my lips. That lab just can't get rid of me huh Tony. "Yeah of course, I'll let you know when I'm headed there."

With that I head back to my room and throw on some shoes and a tank top, leaving Buckys hoodie on my bed. I did say it was mine now anyways.

The gym is a large, two story area with many connected rooms. I went into the sparing room, with mats on the floors and a wall of punching bags. After stretching and putting on some music, I work on the power behind my punches, trying to land harder blows for someone larger than me.

Getting lost in the feel of fist biting leather I let myself drift into thought. I still don't know how to incorporate myself into the team. They were all very kind and grateful this morning, talking about their plans and letting me know they will be interrogating the two bombers from yesterday.

Am I being too open? I'm usually serious and more reserved unless I'm comfortable with someone like Nicky or Tony. It's just that I want them to see more than my serious, throat slashing side. The team is already gloomy enough, but I don't want them too think I'm not taking this seriously. Finding that line is hard when I don't know how receptive three of them even are to me at the moment.

Wanda, Buck, and Peter all seem fine, but the others are more hesitant.

I finish a set with a spinning roundhouse, sending the bag against the wall, just as one of my favorite songs comes on shuffle.

Being on your own for essentially twenty-two years gives you very little option for conversation. Besides the times I stayed with Tony, I was alone. As a kid my teachers were just that and Nicky was there when he could be, but all I really had was myself.

So music is my release. All I ever really had to let loose and feel lighter when on the road or cleaning up after a mission.

So I sing along while launching daggers into a sparring dummy from across the room.

[iamanartichoke]

In which I react to the trailer, bit by bit, because why not? 

This post is long and image-heavy; sorry, dashboard. 

So first of all, the line that keeps running through my head is a line from a fic AU - Have Tesseract, Will Travel by WinterDusk - wherein Alternate Timeline Loki catches up with Post-Endgame Thor. It’s a glorious series and everyone should go read it right now.

“The Tesseract skids to a stop at Loki’s feet. Loki, not being entirely stupid, picks it up.”

It’s such a good line that it should be, like, a narrative voiceover or something. But anyway. 

I have to say, I love seeing Loki’s “old” armour again, as opposed to what he was wearing in Ragnarok/IW (and what he died in, sorry, what?). His hair is definitely doing something inconsistent, but I’m not terribly bothered by it. (I’m glad his hair looks natural and a bit chaotic, as opposed to the stiff, awkward wigs.) And he’s landed in a desert - so, where has he ended up? On Earth? On another planet? Another galaxy? I guess we’ll find out. 

“You’re taking me somewhere to kill me.” 

I think it’s interesting that Loki assumes that they’re going to try to kill him. He doesn’t look afraid, he doesn’t look surprised, just resigned: You’re going to kill me. I think it makes sense that this would be his reaction, in that he can’t fucking catch a break and he knows it. I’m interested to see how they managed to overpower him enough to get that collar around his neck, which I’m assuming is something that suppresses his magic. A fight scene? 

Another note: the scar on his forehead has already healed up; depending on how quickly he heals, this could be a few days or a few weeks after the opening shot. Either he wasn’t captured right away, or he’s been sitting in a cell for awhile before they deign to bring him elsewhere. 

Also, I didn’t recognize Owen Wilson right away. He looks like a kinda weird combination of Howard Stark and General Ross, lmao. 

Idk about the “you love to talk” line bc Loki doesn’t really like to talk - but, it’s also fair to say that the assumption could be made if one was basing his understanding of Loki on what we saw in Avengers (similar to how Tony says Loki’s a “full-tilt diva,” it doesn’t make it true, just makes it someone else’s perception).

I really like Loki’s “wtf” expression when he looks at Owen Wilson, though. 

Friendly reminder that Loki is the protagonist in his series, which means he’s probably going to going up against whatever big bad this is. Which means we get to see him in the context of being the one the audience is rooting for, instead of the villain. 

I think Loki looks the most beautiful here. Look at that face, that tiny little smirk, that luscious hair. Aw yisss. More of this Loki please (for aesthetic purposes). 

I like his expression here; reminds me a bit of when he’s brought in front of Odin in TDW, but a bit more uncertain - as if he’s thinking, I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’m not going to let you know that I’m concerned. If that makes sense. 

I also dig the music. 

I wonder if they’re showing Loki possible futures (considering he’s now created a new timeline) or if it’s strictly Loki-Prime’s life, and if it’s the latter, I am super curious to see how he reacts to the loss of Asgard and the subsequent run-in with Thanos. I hope he does not get shown his death because, butter-knife-stupidity aside, it was so brutal that showing it to him would just be cruel, I would think. 

This shot is interesting to me bc it’s from Loki’s POV - it’s what Loki sees when he realizes he’s surrounded. So where are these images coming from, anyway? Maybe the collar isn’t a magic thing, maybe it gives them the ability to see inside of Loki’s mind - or, to at least pull images from it. Idk. I like how Loki is still not showing much emotion, though; he’s just sitting there, arms folded, like okay, sure. 

Until here. What does Loki see that makes him close his eyes and turn away? He looks annoyed, he looks exhausted, he looks fed up. My first thought was that he was turning away at the shot of the Avengers - the reminder that he lost, or that he failed. Maybe Owen Wilson was saying something taunting about it. But really, it could be anything. It’s a really interesting moment, though, because it’s a genuine reaction from Loki and I’m hoping that it implies he feels some kind of way about New York and perhaps will talk about it - like that he lost on purpose, or he’ll mention Thanos, or something. Again, Loki being the protagonist means that there’s a ton of potential for really getting Loki’s side of things, and if they’re going through his memories, then we might get to see Loki talk about those memories. 

This looks like Loki’s gone from being the TVA’s prisoner to working for them, which is interesting, but not entirely unexpected, if we’re to assume that the TVA’s interests lie in defeating the hooded big bad from before and they need Loki to do it. I’m also curious if they never intended to capture him long-term at all but, in fact, sought him out because of his magic/skills/etc in order to help them. That would also make sense - that it’s more of a recruiting thing than a punishment thing - considering that Loki isn’t even the one who fucked up the timeline to begin with and that the Avengers are the ones responsible for that. 

We love a flippy-knife Loki, don’t we? 

Post-apocalyptic future? Potential of what could have happened if Loki (and, by extension, Thanos) had won? Or an alternate timeline altogether? I have no idea. Loki looks so smol though, all alone in the ruins. 

I really hope this is a wig and Loki didn’t cut his hair, bc this just looks like Tom with short black hair, lmao. Like the Night Manager with a Loki smirk. It’s not bad, I just don’t care for it. I wonder how Asgard will react when Loki shows up looking like that. 

Action shots! Loki doing stuff! Fighting! Random twirly girl! I’m here for all of the action sequences and I’m not sorry. 

Imagine being that girl. Hoo. 

Everyone was talking about Sam jumping out of the plane without a parachute and haha, another one like Steve, but just look at Loki’s bad ass soaring through the clouds. Also, I am a loser, but the one inconsistency in the “Loki is DB Cooper” theory - for me - is that I thought it was night time and raining when DB jumped. But, that’s just me. 

Also, has Loki always pronounced Heimdall like that? HeimDAAALL, like with a hard A? Or is that also just me? 

And there’s the Bifrost, pulling short-haired DB Cooper Loki to Asgard. 

(That little window for the Falcon trailer came up and I couldn’t minimize it, sorry.) 

I have no idea what is going on here, but I have to say, that gravelly come on! What did you expect? is all kinds of pleasing to me. I have always loved Tom’s deep Loki voice. I am assuming this is something from the comics or that it’s an alternate reality Loki or something like that, but again, context matters and this was really the only part of the trailer that (the first time) made me go, uh can we not? Who knows. 

And there we are. My honest opinion is that, while some of it seems questionable, it overall seems kind of promising to me? I think that if you read between the lines, so to speak, and pick up on all of Loki’s little tells and micro-expressions, what we’ll probably end up seeing is a combination of Thor 1/TDW Loki with a side of Avengers and some Ragnarok-flavored sprinkles. I also think that the trailer has probably sliced up and served the juiciest bits to appeal not just to Loki’s core fanbase but to the Ragnarok fans and to the casual MCU fans who may want to tune in for fun. 

Again, we’re getting approximately two full-length movies worth of a story in which Loki is the protagonist. And I’ll just say it: my initial overall reaction was that I liked it. I’m apprehensive, but I’m hopeful. Look at it this way: nothing in this series will be worse than what we already had to endure in Infinity War. 

So, yeah. We’ll see what happens, but I think it’ll be okay and, even if it’s not? Well, on the bright side, there’s more footage and content to inspire brilliant fanworks (fics, music vids, art, etc), which is just the new life that needs to be breathed into the Loki fandom right now. In my opinion.  

[madraleen]

Any Way The Wind Blows (Rainbow Rowell) – 4/5 stars. More arbitrary stars under the cut, and jot-it-down-as-it happens commentary.

5 stars for Simon, Baz, and SnowBaz. 5 stars for the Salisburys, would recommend for a long lost family. 4 stars for Penny and Shepard. 3 stars for friendship shenanigans. 2,5 stars for Agatha, my sweet summer child why. 2,5 stars for the non SnowBaz-related conflicts, because huh? 2,5 stars for plot, because how did we get here? ??? stars for pace.

Commentary

-Lady Ruth!! We have an uncle! Simon, let’s find Jamie! -Simon, for fuck’s sake, answer the man’s texts, he deserves that much. Break my heart with unanswered texts, why don’t you. -I know this must happen. I know they must separate and breathe. I know. But it hurts. -Where is Agatha? I need her and her not giving two shits about any of this, I’m overwhelmed. -I don’t want Baz to find Simon. Somehow, I think that’ll be worse. Leaving him with a note is the worst thing (well, second worst next to saying nothing, I guess). -Lmfao, never has art in a book scared me so. A wand? Is it Baz’s? Why is it bent? WhAT DOes It ALL MEaN! -SIMON. I love you so much, Simon, please, use your words, even if it’s to give him closure, a reason, something. It’s hard, but Baz deserves it and you deserve it, please, love. -This is exactly how I’d pictured Baz reacting to Simon breaking up with him. -“Use your words,” he sneers. (That’s right, that’s my boy). SIMON, you’ve just cut out my heart and stomped on it, ey. -I understand Simon, but I also stuttered out cries when he said it’s not working between them because he’s not a magician. Baz, I’m with you, I support you, I love you. -I love that Baz’s brain works sharply even as he is in distress. - I do believe they’re endgame, so I’m super excited to see HOW, after all this. -“I never thought I’d be the first thing you ever gave up on.” Bazzzz, my man, the shade, I love you! -I expected the breakup in the beginning so that we’d have time to build up to being a thing again, but oh man. I understand Simon looking at Baz and only seeing who HE isn’t and what HE lost, but oh man. -Agatha is the best, yes Agatha, bring us relief! -Oomph, I’m so sad. How do we fix this, Baz is completely broken and Simon completely lost and overwhelmed. -Is there an overarching plot? There’s so many things – the goblins, Fiona’s rummaging, the curse, missing Jamie, maybe NowNext. Who’s the main antagonist? -Honestly, I just want to read about fierce Agatha and splendid Shepard rn, everything else hurts. -Please remind me henceforth to refer to vampires as “sexy bedbugs.” Thank you, Baz, I’m with you, I love you. -I absolutely adore Baz’s relationship with Daphne and his siblings. I’ve loved it since the glimpses in Carry On. -I think Fiona is seeing Nicodemus, I’ve believed so even before picking up the book. -Simon Snow is on our door?!?! What’s happening, what is happening! I’m getting whiplash! I was not prepared, wait, help! -“This is our soundtrack now.” Omfg, I love Baz. -But damn, I love Simon, I love his voice. If it all goes well, I can’t wait to reread the book with the necessary peace of mind to soak it all in in its proper context. -Lmfao, Simon says, "I came to tell you something" and I am honestly scared to turn the page and see what it is. This is going splendidly. -Baz slams the door on Simon’s face?! I fucking gasped and clutched my peals!!! Oh M Y GOD. -“I never believed in us”??? I understand what he’s saying, but oh my God, why have you come, Simon, why are you here, this hurts! -The way they CRY differently, Baz more restrained and Simon just letting the tears fall and licking them as needed, I absolutely adore it. -Where is this going, Simon, we’re all crying, are you happy now? (I know you’re not, I’m sorry, I love you, this is just hard). -This part is really just me hitting the book and biting my hand and muttering, “We’re fine, we’re fine, we’re fine,” with the occasional cry of “RAINBOWWWW.” -Simon is saying I love you Simon is saying I love you Simon is saying – AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. I gasped. So hard. Deep breaths. We’re fine. It’s fine. -I love this “trying” so much. I love my boys so much. -My heart is whole, my crops are watered, flowers are blooming, birds are singing, Simon and Baz are sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. -Simon is relieved that he’s still with Baz, I’m relieved that he still has wings, all is right. -“I just want to be with you,” I say. “And this is where we are now. I’m a broken-down mess, and you’re a rat-drinking monster.” Poetry. POETRY! -Shepard, you’re all I

need, these people are too much for me. -Reading fanfiction of what. Reading fanfiction of what, Penny. -Oh shut up, Shepard saved her chalks. -We should go to the Mage’s estate. -I love Simon. He has this pureness. -“Simon took the napkin, then licked the butter off his arm.” Yes, Simon, I love you. -Catch me at 1am making love oaths to Simon. Really, I can’t blame Baz, it’s just a Simon thing. -Omfg hold me, we’re going to Lady Ruth’s! -Low-key loving that the Salisburys and the Pitches are on good terms already. Love that the boys are hitting it off with Lady Ruth. -Smith-Richards is promising people magic? Oh. Oh, this took a turn. I have zero idea where any of this is going. -Okay, hello, I love Lady Ruth. -Obviously I’m more invested in Baz and Simon than in anyone else, but every time there’s a Baz or Simon chapter, I’m actually petrified at what might come. -Smith is shady, I don’t like him. -Baz really be serving looks in this book. -“I would have liked to have had you for a friend here.” Oh my bb boy Simon, that is so soft. -Oh shut up, Baz left a rose for Lucy. -WILL there be an emergency? Will Baz drink Simon’s blood? Why are we dwelling? -Simon, talk to Penny, my love. I know we’re doing the thing where you’re both recovering from your co-dependency, but seriously, love, talk to her. -Come on, Shep, kiss the girl!! Oomph, they’re so cute. -Oooh, we’re doing the deep cut, we’re doing Philippa, we’re tying off threads, nice! Also ouch. But nice. -NICODEMUS, called it. -Yayyy, the gang is reuniting. But who are we fighting? Who’s the antagonist? Why are the goats leaving? -Baz has a key?! Whoa, Simon! -Well, fuck indeed about your magic, Simon, but did you try calling the sword? -"So no one is cursed…” “Just you, babe.”Ahahahahaha! Sorry. -Will a goblin attack the flat? What was up with the goblin back at the beginning? -“Mmm,” he mmms. POETRY! -I’m sorry, Simon, you have a key to a hidden waterfall?! Care to elaborate? -Baz, my love, let Simon take care of you for once, it’s okay. He wants to do it. He can do it. -“I love you,” he says. “It’s good.” Awww, my bb Simon. -What do you mean immune to magic? What’s happening? -Oh wait, he’s culling the less powerful mages? Is that it? -I see you lying, Simon Snow. -Wait, but why is Simon immune? Is it because he’s a dead spot? -It IS a culling. -…What, that’s it? We’re just arresting Smith on a rooftop? That’s it? -IS Simon a dead spot? And if he is, does that mean that the magic will return? What does it all mean??? -But how did Lucy die??? -“y” S I M O N you’re a texting icon, I love you. -Baz, my man, I’m with you as usual, I don’t want the wings and tail gone either. -I have ten pages left and I’m hysterically hopeful and scared, with the amount of threads that are still loose. -But... a family sword? -Kinda disappointed that Simon didn’t get his magic back, but it’s a bold move, I respect it. -Agatha gets the epilogue?? That’s a choice.

[twilightknight17]

We’re at the end of the road, folks.

And god damn, I feel so validated by my Sojiro characterization. Wow. Thanks for basically making me canon for ten more seconds, Atlus. XDDD

So when last we left our intrepid heroes, they were laying at the bottom of the Jail of the Abyss, because Ichinose is an asshole. So we had to fight our way back up, carrying Sophia’s unconscious body. Which wasn’t that bad; the Jail isn’t very big. We left Sophia at the door to keep her safe, and then charged back into the hall of the Ark to hack Ichinose’s exploding crystal box thing.

Ichinose doesn’t understand why we came back.

So, yeah. I guess like... bizarro-world Maruki? Maruki wanted to alleviate suffering by granting everyone’s wishes. EMMA’s going to make it so that people can’t wish for anything.

After a kick-ass hacking battle set to the new version of Rivers in the Desert, Ichinose yells at us about our right to judge. Why should humanity keep this painful world, just because WE’RE strong? Just because we’ve never screwed up or suffered?

Which, clearly she has no idea who the fuck she’s talking to.

We’ve worked too hard to listen to that kind of bullshit.

Ichinose proclaims that “humans don’t need hearts” and charges up the laser crystal to blast us again, and Sophia steps in to block the attack. She’s still fighting Ichinose’s control even though Ichinose insists that she’s just a faulty prototype.

Apparently Ichinose created Sophia in the first place because she spent a lifetime being called a heartless doll, so she made an AI to help her learn about the heart.

I think you’re the problem, but not for the reasons everyone else is saying.

But she got angry when Sophia started asking questions of her own and basically tossed her aside, until EMMA found her and dropped her into the Shibuya Jail.

And Sophia, unlike her creator, has learned and grown, and is tired of being given orders. She’s ready to make her own choices.

That is certainly a persona.

I gotta admit, they got me. I was wondering why Sophia didn’t have her arcana yet, but for some reason, I also wasn’t expecting her to get a proper persona. I’m now wondering about the implications of someone being able to code an AI capable of developing a soul that can summon a persona. There’s a zero percent chance that Ichinose had any access to plumes of dusk, which are the reason that Aigis and Labrys gained enough consciousness to have personas. So Sophia is legitimately a miracle piece of technology.

Pandora is an interesting choice, but I dunno if I can articulate that beyond a surface-level, “Oh, because she’s Hope, and Hope was still in the box.”

I swear to god, every major villain in this game is trying to be Goro Akechi. For the last goddamn time, we don’t kill people. Get up, Ichinose. We’re leaving.

Ryuji literally grabs her by the arm and drags her out, because she’s trying to stay behind. Which just confirms for me that if Goro hadn’t put up that bulkhead door, we’d have dragged his stupid ass out of the Ship, too. XD

Back to the real world, and Tokyo is blacking out, and the Tower is losing its shit.

The metaverse is fusing with reality, the Tower is becoming the Tree of Knowledge, and hell yes we are climbing this tower after all!

Morgana points out that this is the same thing that happened last year, and Zenkichi freaks out a little bit.

You’re lucky you moved to Kyoto, sir. You missed quite a bit.

I love these kids, though. They’ve got so much black humor about this whole god thing.

The metaverse encroaching on reality means that everyone has to cram into the bus in their thief gear. Zenkichi, please. Your hat. Sir.

I love climbing this tower. I’ve been here, too! Also they have butter. XD

I was expecting the Mementos version of the lower observation deck, and instead I got some weird amalgam between Mementos and Azathoth’s boss chamber.

We had to fight Metatron as the guardian of the last elevator, which is another parallel to Yaldabaoth’s archangels. And then it’s up to what I guess used to be the high observation deck to fight the big box.

EMMA insists that all humanity wants is to let it give them all the answers, and it throws them into some sort of alternate fog world full of the voices of the public.

The Thieves are all separated, trapped in the fog. Each of them has to find their way out, and they realize that the fog of the Desires is protecting EMMA. EMMA knows exactly how calling cards work, so they won’t work on her. Instead, the Thieves decide that they need to send the calling card to the public, so that they’ll become aware of their desires again and the desires will crystalize.

...oh come on, Atlus. We’re right in the endgame.

One last hacker battle to break into EMMA’s server room in the tower, and Futaba and Ichinose manage to hack EMMA itself to deliver a calling card to everyone at once.

Love you, Zenkichi. We’ve taken out two gods already. We’re good.

Confronting the Ark again reveals a bunch of freaky tentacle arms grabbing the desires, and then the box turns into some sort of massive figure that looks sort of like Yaldabaoth, except less robot and more seraphim. It literally names itself the Demiurge, so I feel like EMMA may be drawing something from the lingering dregs of Yald’s influence? It’s cool.

Clearly no one told you what happened to the last false god that thought it knew what was best for humanity. ;) “Hope binds humanity to misery” is bullshit.

After a... not very difficult first phase, the Demiurge reveals its true form, and we split into three teams to take out its support orbs (modeled after the sephirot) and the main body.

I really liked the setup for the last boss. The teams were the first instance where it was really apparent that the whole team was fighting together. Each of the three battles was happening concurrently, and destroying the orbs has a concrete effect on the main fight. I wish we’d gotten to do things like this more often, especially during the Shadow Thieves fight.

That said, the main body was actually the easiest part of the fight? All the attacks were really telegraphed, and not particularly hard to avoid. Except for the spear jab.

But it finished off with a full-team all-out attack, and that was awesome.

The desires began to return to their owners, and we get to bask in a job well done once again.

Upon returning to the real world, it’s the next morning. Sophia’s happy that she got to be a hero, Zenkichi’s heading off to properly arrest Owada, and the rest of us need to head home, because we were supposed to be home last night. Zenkichi can’t figure out why we consider him a phantom thief, since he “only joined [us] to use [us]”. Which is silly. The Phantom Thieves are built on the bonds of friendship and stalking! It’s too late, Zenkichi. You and Akane have been adopted.

I’m a little disappointed we didn’t get to tell Akane the truth. That would have been great.

Atlus personally reaches out and pats me on the head, because Sojiro has the absolute perfect reaction to his kids coming home after a nationwide manhunt for them.

I feel so valid making him serve Lavenza coffee and be completely nonplussed about a guy marrying Death. I love him. We’re so lucky to have Sojiro. XDDDD

The next day, the kids have a celebration party for their victory, and learn that Akira is going home the next day. This kid needs to catch a break. He can’t even have a few days to relax with his friends. X’‘‘D

Everyone goes to see off Akira, though we detour to Shibuya to meet Ichinose. A news report shows that Owada was successfully arrested, and apparently Ichinose tried to turn herself in to the police, and they didn’t believe a word of it.

This is just highlighting my issues with Maruki. Even if he doesn’t think he did anything wrong to society as a whole, he never apologizes to them for what he put them through. Especially Akira. Ichinose turns around and helps them stop the final boss, and her last scene is her apologizing to the Thieves and trying to make amends for her actions. Maruki’s last scene is... “If things get bad, you can start over like me! Now we’re even!” We are not.

Sophia leaves to help Ichinose learn about the heart, Akira promises to come back for winter break, the Phantom Thieves go their separate ways once again, and the credits roll.

I’m gonna leave my final impressions in a different post, because this one is long enough already. So... look forward to that?

[manikrege]

For 'gifted' kids who feel like a disappointment

You ever wanted to become an astronaut? I think we all did. At some point in our childhood. Back then, the stars and moon felt so close. Power Ranger transformations looked realistic. And getting an A+ was just a matter of focusing on your studies one week before the exam.

But above all, life was fair. You work hard, you get rewards. I remember teachers telling me how I was going to be so happy & successful after my 10th board exams. Of course, they postponed that promise until after my 12th, then my graduation, then my MBA ... and now they joke about how marriage is the true final test.

Part of me wants to believe in their simple idea. But it's starting to crack. Because I know for sure that I gave my 100% at the job. I was still fired. I know for sure that I wrote those blogs and manuscripts with all my heart. They were still rejected. I'm confident that I gave that relationship all the time and love I could've given. It still ended.

All of a sudden, I don't feel like I'm the gifted kid they told me I was. I'm no longer a topper, a front runner, a prodigy with all the potential, or an obvious winner on my way to conquer the world.

It's not like I'm a complete mess or failure. It's just this uneasy & humbling discovery that I'm actually average in many areas, and even terrible at some things that come easily to my friends. It's the discomfort of realizing that lagging behind somewhere is inevitable.

It hit me when an aunty asked me about what I'm up to nowadays, and I felt afraid to tell her that I'm taking a break to figure out my next steps. I guess I didn't want to show that I've burned out, lost my way, or worse, extinguished my 'spark.' I guess I didn't want to look like a disappointment.

But I really do. I feel like I was slowly climbing to the top of this roller coaster and now that I'm here, all I can see is a plain straight line for a few miles ahead. No ups and downs. No crazy loops. No thrilling adventures. Instead, a patch where I'm supposed to stumble and fumble. A middle that just doesn't seem to end. Between being a carefree, city-exploring, movie-going, third-year student and a responsible, settled adult. Just between these phases, you get it?

It gets complicated when I look around. Just yesterday, we were all skipping class to catch 'Endgame.' And now everyone's on their own trajectory, spread across the world, chasing different dreams and goals. I see friends getting excited to announce their milestones on LinkedIn. Getting hired by big fish. Securing scholarships in Ivy leagues. Launching their own startups. I mean, how the fuck is everyone getting featured in Forbes' 30 under 30?

Look, I really want to be happy for all of them. But at some point, we all start to compare a little, don't we? Especially those of us who've always been a little competitive.

When I was reflecting on these feelings last night, I thought about how the problem started in statistics class. When Radhika ma'am drew a straight line pointing upward and forward from 0 to 100 on the graph. And we were told: "This is how success looks like." A steady consistent burn towards status, security, fame, and money. And until recently I didn't realize how much that model was hurting me (well, I've always thought that math is shit anyway).

Because if I look back at myself and people I'm proud of, our growth has been anything but linear. Sometimes you take a step back, sometimes you go in circles for years, sometimes you say "fuck it" and abandon the axes to run away into some other dimension. Growth is not always beautiful. In fact, it can be very messy. It hides in pain, dances behind self-doubt, smiles in suffering, and celebrates obstacles. Which is why we don't always recognize it as it's happening.

Growth is also seldom tagged on Instagram or vlogged about on YouTube, only it's end products are. We don't see the hardships, the mistakes, the pressures, the embarrassments, the anxiety, the stress, and the crushing disappointments that come hand in hand with shining 'talent' ... Tweets and Stories are too short to fit all this heavy baggage that's part of everyone's journey.

Lastly, growth is also very unfair. It doesn't always lead to meaningful or positive results. Sometimes its only job is to make us hurt. You don't always become stronger or better. You don't always come out smiling. You cannot have full control. You can do everything you possibly could've done and still lose. You can try, try, and fail in spite of all your attempts. Shit will just happen for no reason, serving no purpose. Not all dots will connect.

And that's something I'm learning to make peace with. I'm learning to normalize:

Not having a plan for everything

Fucking up even when I was prepared

Needing help or guidance from others

Taking a gap year for my mental health

Not only depending on my 'strengths'

Being just another guy in the crowd

Letting others take center-stage

Helping others without feeling threatened

So here I am. Excited to announce something, too. Excited to announce that I'm currently not doing, winning, or being great at anything. Because there's nothing wrong with sitting out a match every now and then. A hunch tells me that I'm going to hit the ball out of the park when I get back.

Hold on, Manik. Hold on.

[tempesrature]

The Case of the Murdered Witch Doctors | Chapter 10 (End)

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 The Charm of Lost Things (Oneshot Follow-up) Creative Process Note Commissioned Art Piece

Pairing: Ride or Die | Ellie x Colt Summary:  “It may be that you are not yourself luminous, but that you are a conductor of light.” - Arthur Conan Doyle, The Hound of Baskervilles   Word Count: 1k+ Warnings: PG-16 @rodappreciationweek @lovehugsandcandy

~*~

Ellie closes the door of her car and walks towards the cliff as the sun hangs close to the horizon. She feels the rush of sea wind whip her hair around but she ignores it as she makes her way to the figure in a familiar black leather jacket and currant-red pants standing near the edge as the red and orange hue of the sky bathes him in the soft light.

“Soaking up the last of the sun?” She teases as she makes her way to his side.

Colt smirks as he glances at her from the side before he turns to look back into the distance. “How was it?”

“Oh you know. Got my ass handed to me by Mona and got delegated to desk work for a month but jokes on them because I love desk work.”

Colt smiles amusingly. “I don’t even need to put my hand on your heart to know that you’re lying.”

Ellie sighs as her shoulders sag. Yeah, he’s right. She hates desk work but, as Ingrid said, she’s trying to find the brighter side of things and it’s not like Ellie doesn’t know what Mona is trying to do. Although the wounds that Ellie got from the fight weren’t that bad, they’d still need a few weeks to heal and desk work allows her to work and heal at the same time (and Colt’s vampire saliva greatly helped in shortening her healing timeframe but she’s never going to tell anyone that). Plus, after four days in the hospital since her big confrontation with Ana she still has so much to catch up on. She doubts she’ll be able to pick up a case any time soon. Or if she’d actually want to pick up a case any time soon. Not from the Agency at least.

“The charges on Toby have been dropped,” Ellie says as she tucks her hair behind her ear. “I handed the case to the Elves and since they were able to get Ana, they didn’t really care much about the little guys so he should be home within the week.”

Colt turns to her in alarm. “What…so you’re not getting any credit for the case?”

Ellie shrugs. “It doesn’t matter as long as the case is solved.”

Colt blinks for a moment before a wide grin takes hold of his lips. “You did it for me.”

Ellie sputters as she turns to look at him with a weak glare. “I did it for the greater good. We put away a major supplier of Fern Libation and we solved the murder of two magical creatures. So it shouldn’t matter who gets the credit or not.”

“Yeah? Just say that you did it for me Ellie, it’s not that hard,” Colt leans in to her with a cocky and knowing smile. “I think it’s hot that you did it for me.”

Ellie rolls her eyes but she can’t help the smile that tugs on her lips. If she’s being honest with herself. Truly and willfully honest—then yeah, she really did do it for Colt. If Toby had been charged with the crime, a lot of it would blowback to Colt and his operation of distributing the Fern Flower blunt. It’s a terrible thing for her as a detective of the Agency but…she also justified it by telling herself that Toby wasn’t really selling Fern Libation and if Toby’s going to get locked up in jail for a crime then it shouldn’t be under false charges.

“I have something for you,” She ignores the amused look on Colt’s face as she reaches out for his hands. She places her palms on the back of his hand as she manifests the last thing she’ll need to give him before their arrangement truly and finally ends.

The ashes of Teppei Kaneko.

Colt’s eyes widen as the ceramic urn slowly start to materialize in his hands. He feels the weight and shape of it but even then it still feels surreal to have it in his grasp after three years.

“Give me your hand,” She commands and Colt raises an eyebrow but follows nonetheless as he cradles the urn close to his abdomen and offers his hand to her. She takes it, places it on top of her heart, and smiles up at him. “Those are Teppei Kaneko’s ashes.”

Colt blinks for a moment before a huge grin takes hold of his lips. He moves his hand from her heart and fits her chin between his fingers as he runs his thumb over her bottom lip.

“Didn’t doubt you for a second.”

Ellie smiles as her eyes flick to the urn cradled his other hand. “What are you planning to do with it?”

“Flush it down the toilet,” He bursts out in laughter at the absolute horror and disbelief on Ellie’s face and he reaches up to wipe away the tears that managed to squeeze themselves out of his eyes. “I’m kidding El. I’m gonna send it to my Ma and she can decide what she wants to do with him.”

“You asshole,” Ellie huffs as she lands a soft punch on his shoulder. “You can’t even begin to imagine what I had to do to get it out of the Vault.”

Colt smiles warmly. “Yeah I can. I’ve seen how you operate Ellie. You work hard to get what you want and you don’t let anyone get in the way of that. That’s why I like you even when you’re a pain in the ass.”

Ellie flushes and the memory of their conversation before the fight with Ana comes back to her. A frown tugs on her lips when she realizes that this a conversation they need to have. Right now, with the return of Teppei’s ashes and the end of the case, their agreement is finished. They have no reason to see, to talk or to contact each other now. Which feels…lonely—a little sad.

“Colt…” She starts, her voice apprehensive and sad. “We…we can’t be together.”

Colt’s face falls and a frown pulls on his lips. “Why?”

“Colt. You’re distributing Fern Flower blunts and I’m a detective of the Agency. I shouldn’t even be talking to you right now never mind dating you.”

Colt furrows his eyebrows as the first and most prominent emotion that takes hold of him is anger. But he snuffs out the anger in favor of something else. Maybe annoyance, maybe even logic so he can figure out a solution for their predicament, but instead he is met with an emotion so tight and choking he has no other word for it other than heartbreak. Because she’s right. Shit. She’s right.

“That’s why something has to change,” She says and Colt looks at her confusingly, the tone on her voice annoyingly happy for the context of this conversation.

He glares at her, a flit of dark gold passing through his eyes. “I’m not stopping.”

Ellie smiles pleasantly. “Neither am I.”

He expected that but it still stings all the same. So he scoffs and looks away and pretends to put on a scowl to mask his aching heart.

“Then. Guess that’s it. Nice knowing you Miss Half a Witch.”

Ellie narrows her eyes at him as stormy blues flit by her eyes. She hates that nickname, he knows that, but he’s only ever said it in tone that’s teasing and playful. This is the first time she’s ever heard him say it with so much finality that it breaks her heart and angers her at the same time.

Because the idiot never listens first.

“Which is why I’m thinking of going into Private Investigation that will specialize in cases that were or are being buried by the Agency. After I serve my one month of desk duty, I’ll hand in my resignation and start building up my name.”

Colt whips his head back to her so fast he feels like he got vertigo. He replays her words in his head to make sure he hadn’t heard her wrong. When he realizes that he hasn’t, he can’t stop the relief and joy taking hold of his face.

“This was my endgame actually, I never planned to stay long in the Agency. Just enough to take advantage of their training and build connections. I’m just speeding up the process—no not for you,” Ellie glares at him when she sees the mischief in his eyes. “I’m doing it because my first case taught me something. I won’t always be able to choose the type of cases I’ll be handling and a lot of it will be steeped in Agency politics. If I start putting my time and energy to my own PI business now, then I’ll be able to work on more cases like yours and mine.”

Colt smiles as he takes a step closer to her, his eyes shining in hope and happiness. “So does this mean…?”

Ellie tries to glare at him but it’s weakened by the smile on her lips. “Ask me again in a month.”

He lets out a loud laugh before he leans down and presses his forehead against hers. His soft golden eyes meeting her soft blues. “I already know you’re gonna say yes.”

Ellie rolls her eyes as she locks her fingers behind his neck. “Why do I like you again?”

He answers her question with a kiss. The kind that’s both desperate and hard but full of promise for what’s to come in the days, months, and years.

She breaks the kiss first and leans back to look at him before she catches the shimmer of the blue ocean in her peripheral view. An idea takes hold of her and she gazes into his eyes.

“Wanna jump in the ocean?”

Colt grins. “Huge rocks at the bottom, remember?”

She rolls her eyes. “Genius witch, remember?”

Ellie takes a step back and quickly strips to her underwear. She ignores his hungry eyes roaming her body as she turns to look at him expectantly. Colt shakes his head before he places the urn on the ground and starts to strip down to his underwear. She walks towards the edge of the cliff and he stands next to her. She easily gathers her magic between them that steadily coats them in a blue hue that’s both warm and secure. She turns to him with an easy smile as she offers her hand to him.

“Ready Colt?”

He fits her hand in his and interlaces their fingers as he returns her easy smile with his own.

“Ready Ellie.”

And they jump.

Ellie already starts her water spell before their feet ever left the ground as the levitation spell moves them beyond the rocks while the water rises up to catch their fall and they drop down with a loud splash.

Colt swims in the brilliant blue as his eyes immediately search for her. He sees her legs already below the surface and he swims up to catch her. When he emerges from the water, his eyes widen at the sight. The ocean water surrounding them is now glinting and shimmering with gold.

He turns to her and she looks back at him with a proud smile and once again, Colt is magnetized to her.

He swims to her and encircles his arms around her waist while she easily fits her arms around his neck. Their bodies mold against each other and their lips meet under the sinking horizon of red and orange as the blue and gold surround them in a dizzying haze that’s nothing short...

Of magic.

END

[buckyreaderrecs]

A Toast to Whiskey: Chapter 1 / 2

Summary: You work in an old bar hidden away from the modern world. It's almost charming, but not quite. That's probably why Bucky likes it.

Words: 2,325 Pairing: Bucky Barnes/reader Characters: Bucky Barnes Additional tags: Bucky needs a hug, recovering Bucky, mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists), angst, she/her pronouns, more tags/characters to be added with part 2, brief mention of Nazis, mental health will be prominent part of part 2

Note: Find this fic and others on A03 - click here. And follow this Tumblr! I post lists of Bucky/Reader fic writers and reblog all my favs. I’ve just started it, so would love the support! xo Rhi

Dedicated to: @browngirlmagic for the conversation. The next chapter is the Lush one!

A Toast to Whiskey Chapter 1 / 2

There were a lot of things in the dusty, old bar that made the man's jaw clench in annoyance, distaste, or anger. You were compiling a list of these things, doing your best to minimise their occurrences. There was one you couldn't avoid though, and it was almost amusing that it bothered him at all. Each time someone ordered a drink - beer, cocktail, shot, whatever - a clean glass was given. The man didn't like it. Was it not like that in his time?

If James Buchanan Barnes thought he'd gone unnoticed in the hole-in-the-wall bar you worked at, he was mistaken. Not entirely, to be fair; the baseball cap and quiet stopped the other patrons from even giving him a second glance. 'Patrons' might have been too civilised of a word to call them. They were old, sickly, local men that had been drinking the same beer from those same taps forever. Harmless, mostly. Unobservant, entirely. Not you though. The first day Bucky walked in and taken a barstool on the very corner, closest to the door, you knew exactly who he was.

Like a lot of people that came and went from the establishment, Bucky's seeking of anonymity was granted. You pretended to not recognise him. You were kind to him, a little more gentle than you were to others, but mostly just a good bartender. And in time, you grew accustomed to the charade. He came in a couple of afternoons a week, but never during the nights when it would be busy. Eventually, he even started to speak more than a couple words to you.

"New cap?" you greeted Bucky with a grin, putting the only drink he ever ordered down in front of him.

Bucky wrapped his right hand around the glass of whiskey. He glanced at you, smiled and shrugged.

"Speaking of new, can I ask you something?" you asked.

The expression on Bucky's face was guarded, but definitely one of concern. You realised you should have just asked, rather than let his mind spiral.

"What’s your problem with clean glasses?"

He looked surprised. Surprised was an experience Bucky wasn't particularly used to or fond of. He wouldn't hold it against you though.

"How do ya know I got a problem?" he asked back, genuinely curious.

Shrugging, you looked around casually. "Guess I notice a lot of things about people,"

"Right," he said slowly, knowingly. "I don't know… Just seems wasteful… Is it the law?"

"That we have to use clean glasses?" you asked with a laugh. "I don't know… probably not. I mean, it's more hygienic. Probably makes the drink taste cleaner or whatever. Board of Health might have a problem with us if we didn't… Not that I've seen one of them in here in years."

Bucky picked up his glass and finished the whiskey. "Fill her up," he quipped. He'd made a half-joke, and you appreciated the effort.

"Yes, sir. Lemme know if you, you know, what anything else," you told him, topping him up, knocking your knuckles on the bar top, and walking away.

…

Bucky Barnes certainly wasn't the most chatty person you'd met. It was better to ask questions if you wanted to pass time with conversations. Easy conversation was one of your special skills, being a bartender and all. However, it was incredibly difficult to do this when you were purposefully avoiding topics that would put Bucky in a position to have to, you know, admit his identity and all that. So, things stayed superficial.

No, Bucky didn't watch the game.

Yes, the weather's been insane.

No, he doesn't want any nut mix.

Okay, maybe yes to pretzels.

Yes, he can see your hair has changed colour.

Yes, he likes it.

For as long as it had taken to get to the point of superficial conversation, it didn't take any time at all to run out of things to say. As it turned out, neither you nor Bucky had lived, or were living, shallow enough lives to sustain it. There were questions you were begging to ask, and if he was honest with himself, Bucky was kinda just counting down until you finally spoke up.

…

"So, I got a question,"

"Mmm. You have a lot of questions," Bucky said, smirking then taking another sip of his whisky.

"You could ask me somethin' if you want a change of pace, pal."

It was a joke. Just banter. But a dark expression flashes across Bucky's face for only a split second. You didn't catch it.

"What's your question, Y/N?"

He knew your name?

Of course he knew your name. He was The Winter fucking Soldier. He probably knew everything about everyone that worked and frequented the bar. How had you not thought of that before? Suddenly, it seemed risky to ask what you had planned to.

Bucky watched you hesitate. He sighed and looked around at the empty room. It was a Monday afternoon and it was just before the regulars showed up to knock beer bottles together and catcall you across the bar. It was just you and him.

"Ask," he said softly, taking his cap off and setting it down on the barstool next to him. You watched Bucky run his hands through his hair, tucking some of it behind his ear.

"Why do you drink whiskey?"

Bucky laughed. Like, a proper heartfelt laugh. "What?" he said, nose still scrunched up in amusement.

"What?"

"Why do I drink whiskey?" he repeated.

"Yeah… I mean… It's disgusting… and, like, you… can't get drunk, right?"

There it was. You did it. Admitted you knew him. Which he figured out. So none of what was happening was really a big deal. But it sure as fuck felt like it.

"Right. I can’t- Well, I can, but it takes a lot,"

"Asgardian mead a lot?"

Bucky grinned and tipped his glass towards you. "How do you know about Asgardian mead?"

You snorted. "Everyone does. Everyone knows everything these days,"

"That's what we want you to think," he said, not skipping a beat.

It made you laugh. It was already better talking to him without false pretences. "So, whisky?"

"Ah… Guess it's that everything's different now… An' that's mostly good. But… You know."

No. No, you didn't know. How could you even begin to understand? "Yeah," you said, your voice far more quiet than you meant it to be.

"Whiskey's still whiskey,"

"It tastes the same?" you asked.

"Almost. Not exactly. Close enough,"

"Makes sense… But why here? S'not like this bar been here since the 40s or anything."

Bucky was visibly trying not to smile. Or make eye contact. "Ah… Not sure how to answer that without… offending ya,"

"Huh? ... Oh, I don't own the joint or anything,"

"You don't?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

"No? You think I did? Why?"

"You're…" but he shrugged, still guarded. "I don't know," he lied. "But, ah, I was just lookin' for somewhere…"

"Pretty much stuck in the 40s or thereabouts?"

He nodded, smiling. "But without the Nazis,"

"Mmm… I mean… Have you watched the news lately?" you very quickly said.

"I try to avoid it," he admitted solemnly.

As people started to wander in, the conversation waned. Bucky watched you serve cold beer and pour bags of crisps into bowls. He listened to the worst songs being picked on the jukebox and he sat truly shocked you weren't even at least the daughter of the owner. Despite what you may have thought, he hadn't bothered to investigate you at all and finding his assumptions to be wrong was unsettling.

See, Bucky was a little bit smitten with you. He thought you were smart and sassy and timelessly beautiful. You were the ultimate perk of randomly picking this as his hideaway from the world. But, he figured you were only here because it was a family business. Why was someone smart, sassy and beautiful working strange hours at a shitty bar?

It was hard to say which of you was more curious about the other.

…

Something about what Bucky said had stuck in your head. Whiskey, his drink of choice, was the closest thing to his own time he could find. You could do better than that though.

About a year into working at the bar, you were finally allowed to venture into the cellar to clean it up. There were boxes of shit from forever ago down there and you just wanted it sorted, gone, and the space put to better use. Most of what lived beneath the floor was trash, but every hour or so you'd find something cool. A few vintage beer signs. Empty bottles of collector edition Coke. That kind of stuff. But, there was one thing you had found that you now wanted to stumble across again.

Nobody could remember where it had got to.

It took two days of searching to find it.

The bottle of whiskey was shoved under a bunch of paperwork in the office's bottom drawer desk. Not exactly where you'd store something worth a lot of money, but hey - the barely-there owners of the bar were eccentric, to put it nicely. You didn't recognise the brewing company on the peeling label, but that wasn't the point. The date on the bottle quite clearly read 1940.

When Bucky took his usual spot that afternoon, you bounced over to him with a grin on your face. He looked up at you, keeping his cap.

"Aren't you gonna ask me why I'm so happy?" you said, elbows on the bar and head in your hands.

Bucky smiled a little. He seemed sad. Sadder than usual. Good timing.

"Why are you so happy?"

"'Cause I found something that's gonna make you real fuckin' happy. Check this out!"

You produced the bottle from where you had it stashed under the bar and handed it to Bucky.

Bucky's lips parted slightly and his eyes went all glossy. He read the label carefully, probably trying to place the brand you couldn't. He handled it so carefully, even more than you in your fear of dropping it.

"This is real," he finally said.

"Yeah. I found it in the basement ages ago and just remembered it. 1940, so I figure it's like, first or second batch after Prohibition, yeah?"

Bucky nods. "I guess…" he replied, smiling, remembering Prohibition. "And before all the distilleries had to stop again,"

"For what?" you asked.

"The war," he said so matter-of-factly that it hurt a little. He looked up then, saw your confusion. "Dunno if it was law or if they just did it, but most places stopped making drinking alcohol and started making stuff to help win the war. And ah, whiskey stopped being made because it took up too much crops. I don't know. Something like that."

Something like that. Like he hadn't lived history.

"I didn’t know that. That's…" Not 'cool.' "That makes sense… Anyway. Open it," you ordered, getting out two clean glasses.

Bucky put the bottle on the bar and looked at you seriously. "Y/N, that's gotta be worth… a lot… Can't open it for no reason,"

"Nobody here cares about it. And besides, it's not really no reason, is it?" He didn't move or say anything. "Bucky." He flinched at his name, glanced around to make sure nobody heard. They hadn't. "I think you kinda earned this one, yeah? Now do me the honours."

Why was everyone in Bucky's life so goddamn stubborn?

He sighed and opened the bottle silently. You nodded in encouragement, letting him pour.

"A toast," you posed, holding your glass up. Bucky mimicked your action. "A toast to…" Everything in your head sounded either very cliché or very sad.

"Whiskey," Bucky finished.

"Whiskey," you agreed.

Drinking at the same time, Bucky swallowed in two gulps while you struggled with a sip.

"Jesus fucking Christ it tastes like cat piss now and it did then," you whined, pouring the liquid left in your glass into Bucky's. He laughed at you.

After drinking that down quickly, Bucky reached across the bar and took your hand in his. "Thank you, Y/N. Really."

A toast to finding things that make us less homesick.

…

After the 1940 whiskey, Bucky came in more regularly. He stayed longer, despite the place filling with people. He even began to talk to the other regulars when they sat at the bar and argued with you about politics, the news, and kids these days. You watched him play devil's advocate, siding with the old men, sarcastically poking fun at you with a quick comment every now and then.

You weren't sure when it happened, but you realised Bucky had grown to be comfortable in the space. And there was something about that that made you ridiculously happy. Like, sunbeams bouncing around on the inside of you making you all hot and tingly and full of joy whenever he was there kind of happy. It was gross.

Bucky would walk in, sit, place his cap down and grin at you with his cute little teeth and sparkly blue eyes. It made your day without exception, and you started to notice more little things about him and how they made you feel. When he hooked his hand behind his ear it would make your stomach flip.

One time, when he was telling you a story about carnival rides and baby Steve throwing up, a loose strand of hair fell across his face and you immediately and unconsciously leant across the bar and folded it gently behind his ear for him. Bucky froze, and you went to apologise, but he spoke first. "Thanks," he said softly, with more meaning than the situation called for, then continued on with his story.

It was like that for just over a month. Then he stopped coming in. There was nothing in his final visit to indicate he wasn't coming back. Bucky just disappeared.

CLICK TO READ PART 2/2

[post-itpenny]

The Regret

A sequel to The Challenge.

Just as ridiculous as the first time. 

Dwight’s anxiety had skyrocketed to a level he never thought possible. Two trials after his run-in with The Legion and he had hardly slept, he couldn’t focus at all in trials, at the campfire he was always looking over his shoulder as if half expecting the masked teens to be right behind him.

Dwight adjusted his glasses as he made his way through the collection of tents and fragile structures that made up the survivors camp, coming to a small lean-to at the camp’s edge. Jake, like many of the vetran survivors, had plenty of time to gather the materials needed to make a more stable shelter. They never had to worry about rain but a warm place to sleep was still a luxury, Dwight had gone through enough nights sleeping by the fire without so much as a blanket to know this. He found Jake sitting outside the lean-to salvaging what was left of a beaten-up tool kit.

“I messed up.”

“I heard… Nea told everyone.”

Dwight sighed as he ran his hands through his hair, of course she told everyone.

“What am I going to do?”

Jake didn’t answer right away, instead taking the time to clean a few spare gears he had picked up somewhere. Dwight was used to this, he and Jake were two of the few that had been here the longest and understood Jake liked to take his time in answering; just as cool and level headed as always. Dwight once questioned Claudette why people didn’t see Jake more as a leader. Her answer was short- “he’s not meant for that pressure, that’s you.”

Jake finished his work, snapping the toolbox close before looking up at Dwight. “You and I both know the Legion has the combined attention span of a walnut. Keep low and give it a few trials, I garuntee someone else will do something stupid enough to outdo you.”

Dwight relaxed a little, Jake really did have a point.

The very next trial and someone really did outdo Dwight in level of stupid.

David King was running from The Huntress, as she threw a hatchet Feng screamed “yeet!” from behind and the killer just snapped. Pivoting on the ball of her foot and charging at the survivor with a speed Feng never thought her capable of. David panicked, Feng was on her third hook and he had to do something. David dashed ahead of the Huntress just as she threw a hatchet at Feng Min-

And David caught it.

Perhaps it was his previous life as a rugby player, or the power of adrenaline…. or maybe just pure dump luck. But David caught the hatchet by it’s handle, the blade inches from his face.

For once The Huntress was silent, staring open-mouthed in shock. David was surprised as well, looking at his wide-eyed reflection in the polished blade.

Feng however recovered quickly, dashing off without a second glance. The Huntress shook her head and yanked her hatchet free of David’s hand, taking off after the other survivor. Feng Min was hooked a few minutes later, David however didn’t come to his senses until the gonging of a bell triggered the endgame collapse. He and Adam being the only two to make it out that round.

That evening David’s catch was the only thing they could talk about. Truly legendary and what would be regarded by some of the survivors as King’s finest moment. The next day David was a part of the trial against The Nurse, the strange spirit seeming to regard the survivor with… uncertainty? It was very hard to tell what the apparition was feeling considering she wore a bag over her head and all. After a few minutes she seemed to make a decision-

And mori’ed him on the spot.

None of her usual soft regret came afterwards but Steve, who had been hiding nearby, swore on his ranger med kit he heard The Nurse rasp what sounded eerily like “yeet” before teleporting off.

When Dwight heard the story it was through Nea cackling about how The Nurse yeets herself around the map much to an annoyed David’s chagrin who was still struggling to get his breath back. Claudette fussing over him saying the killer really did a number on his windpipe.

Dwight chewed his nails, this wasn’t right, and he had a bad feeling it would get worse.

Two trials later and Nea was sneaking around Lery’s, with Nancy and Adam already dead it was just her and Tapp stuck with three generators. It didn’t help Nea was for once without a flashlight

She had just started working on a generator when spine chill went off. With no heartbeat she could only assume the killer, whoever it was, was either just out of range or had concealed themselves. Nea snuck away into the shadows, rounding a corner and climbing into a nearby locker despite her better judgment.

Nea held her breath, maybe it was Michael? He normally didn’t check lockers and she could get lucky. Unless it was-

“Boo!” Ghost Face laughed as he yanked open the locker door. Nea screamed and backed away only for the killer to grab her shoulder and pull her out of the locker. There was a bright flash and Nea found herself blinking away spots as the killer held up the screen of his camera for them both to see.

It was a picture of The Ghost Face and a panicked and confused looking Nea, the killer giving her a set of bunny ears.

“Yup, that’s definitely going on the wall.” Ghost Face chuckled, “ok Punk Rock you have two seconds.”

Nea was still trying to regain her sight, “wh-what?”

“One second.”

The survivor bolted, crashing into a stray gurney as she did so.

Nea probably wouldn’t have said anything except several copies of the picture were found on the log benches around the campfire soon after. They all laughed until Tapp asked the question of how the pictures got there.

The implications put them all on edge after that.

Dwight had become a nervous wreck, chewing off what was left of his nails as he made his way to one of the largest tents in the camp.

Nancy and Zarina had become instant friends over their love of investagative journalism. Nancy had been quick to begin documenting everything she could the moment she and Steve had first stepped into The Fog. She enlisted Jane to take every survivor’s testimony while she used every trial she was in to explore the nooks and crannies of the different realms to learn what she could. When Zarrina arrived these efforts were doubled. The tent served as a home base where their findings were stored and catalogued. Dwight, having never ventured inside before, was very surprised to see a map of each trial ground on display and an even larger map of The Fog half finished on a table.  

“These aren’t the normal maps,” he observed.

Zarina looked up from her writing with a grin, “correct!” Nancy had the idea to use a couple of the generator maps- along with a lot of observation- to make a detailed map of every trial. We found the totems, exit gates, and hatch don’t actually spawn at random! The Entity seems to like following patterns and will manifest these in a few choice locations.”

“No wonder you two find totems so fast!” Dwight gasped as he looked over the nearest map of Haddonfield in amazement at the detail. “So the larger map-”

“It’s a guessing game I guess,” Nancy chimed in. “We looked at how long it takes to enter a trial, what direction we were facing at the campfire vs. direction facing at the start of a trial, stuff like that. We could be wrong though… but we could also be right.”

Dwight looked at the maps in awe, then to the scraps of paper, stitched together notebooks, and folders that sat in stacks around the tent. It was all very impressive.

“Did you need something Dwight?”

Dwight shook his head, focussing again. “Y-yeah you guys have been taking notes on the killers yeah? H-have you noticed if-”

“They have been acting off yes!” Zarina grinned, grabbing three folders and flipping them open.

Inside were drawings Jeff had done of The Nurse, Ghost Face, and Wraith along with several pages on each killer.

“So yesterday Ash and Kate got back from a match saying The Wraith just followed people around ringing his bell the whole time. He even camped Yui after hooking her and rang that stupid bell in her face until The Entity came for her. Weird right?”

“Yeah I gue-”

“Then Nurse hardly says anything yeah? I think the most anyone heard was Nea who said the killer spent a whole match whispering some name over and over. Andy- Andr… I don’t know, Nea didn’t quite catch it. But what IS important is that The Nurse saying “yeet.”

“Though it was Steve,” Nancy pointed out, “he’s kinda dum-”

“But he is our only witness and no one has said that word in Nurse’s match at least in front of her AND she understood what it meant.” Zarina pointed out. “So with Ghost Face and the picture I now have a running theory.”

“What’s your th-”

“My theory is that perhaps just as the survivors can interact with each other outside of trials so can the killer’s! The Huntress must have said what happened in the trial with David-”

“So The Nurse got revenge?” Dwight questioned. “Why would she do anything?”

Zarina frowned, “first of all it’s rude to cut people off like that Dwight. But yes it may be that. My theory is that the killers are having a game of their own. Why else would Wraith and Ghost Face act so off?”

Dwight felt the bottom of his stomach drop out, “so would The Legion-”

“Sure why not,” Zarina reasoned with a shrug of her shoulders. “They’re a bunch of teenagers. Hell it might even have been their idea for all we know.” Zarina paused, as if she suddenly remembered something. “Hey Dwight, didn’t you-”

Dwight passed out again.

[charliejrogers]

Gone With the Wind (Or, Why are we still talking about this?)

Beyond the second Godfather, Titanic, Avengers: Endgame, The Irishman, and Tarantino at his most indulgent (The Hateful 8) my experience with films over the 180-min mark is rather paltry. I haven’t seen many of those epic “classics” of days past, not because of disinterest, just lack of time. I’ll get to you yet, Doctor Zhivago! But that’s not the case for Gone With the Wind: I just never had any interest. Though I love Titanic, I never had interest in watching a four-hour love story from the 1930s. And for all it’s praise, I never knew anyone who had seen it, nor did I hear a lot of praise about it on online forums/websites. Perhaps because the internet tends to dominated by male voices who would rather tout gangster films than the passionate drama I was led to believe this film was. In sum, I just sort of took it for granted that Gone With the Wind was some all-time classic, but one which I would just never get around to seeing, and I was ok with that.

That changed in 2018, when Spike Lee used a scene from the film to start his own movie BlacKkKlansmen. Before this, I had never known there was ever any controversy surrounding a move that was supposedly as good if not better than Casablanca. Lee used the scene from Gone With the Wind (in addition to a scene from The Birth of a Nation) to criticize the way Hollywood has long served as a bastion for white supremacy, giving voice and platform to hateful speech and thoughts. In the case of Gone With the Wind, that means a work which embodies those hateful thoughts, and yet has been celebrated and praised despite doing so ad nauseum for 80+ years. At that point, I lost even more interest in the film, now not wanting to watch a racist movie.

Fast-forward to 2020 in the wake of George Floyd’s murder (among many other Black people killed by police recently and throughout American history) when HBO is under severe controversy for first putting Gone With the Wind on its streaming service, and then subsequently under more controversy for taking it down. A debate took place about censorship, free speech, and the other bullshit conservatives use to sustain their own beliefs while hypocritically arguing against when things don’t go their way. Regardless, for myself, in order to enter into the debate informed I felt like I wanted to know what the hubbub was all about. Frankly, I was curious to see why a movie that was so obviously racist was so adored.

Three hours and forty-five minutes later, I’m not really that sure. On the one hand, putting myself in the shoes of an audience member in 1939, the first half would have blown me away, with the drama taking place in Georgia at the very start of the Civil War up through its grand destruction under General Sherman. The colors and cinematography capturing the landscape of Georgia are just downright beautiful , unlike anything that had been in films prior. Yes, it’s not the first movie to be shot in color (nor was the Wizard of Oz which came out just 4 months prior), but I can’t imagine films before this were as devastatingly beautiful. Everything from the colors of the women’s dresses to the multiple picture-perfect sunsets pops out and catches your eye, and not in the fairytale, bubblegum way of Wizard of Oz. Gone With the Wind captures the natural beauty and colors of our world, and put it on display in a grand way. The cinematography really deserves every praise it gets.

The recurrent motif of characters’ shadows being casted onto the wall behind them during key emotional scenes was one I never tired of. Not only are the shadows beautifully captured by the camera, but, especially in a movie where every character seems to have a secret passion they refuse to express, the shadows strip away all our external beauties (make-up, facial features, dresses, and all the stuff this film has in spades), leaving us with figures that are still obviously human and whose feelings are immediately understood. All that is needed to convey grief is to see two shadows with the heads hung low.

The other positives of this film? Clark Gable is a handsome fucking man. He walks the fine line of confidence and smug so well that few others than, say, Brad Pitt could have ever performed the role of Rhett Butler so well. I particularly loved how he portrayed his relationship with his daughter, and the genuine love he showers upon her. Yes, he obviously spoils the child, but he’s so charming and so sincere that rarely have I seen such devoting love from father to daughter on screen, even 80 years later. As one character says, “there must be a great deal of good in a man who would love a child so much.”

But Rhett’s also kind of a despicable human being. He’s a brutish MAN, who loves his daughter because she is someone he can finally “completely own,” (an interesting choice of words said by a Southerner just after the Civil War) which is indicative of his philosophy towards love. Yes, love should be reciprocal, but his idea that his wife should exist in strict subservient, obedient love to him is ridiculous, yet he pursues it like it’s his right. He is otherwise prone to petty jealousy and drunkenness, and he is emotionally abuse toward his wife, Scarlett O’Hara (Vivien Leigh). It’s uncomfortable today to watch these scenes of abuse, like where he threatens to crush her skull to get the thoughts of another man out of her head, or where, after O’Hara makes abundantly clear that she never wants sex with Butler again, he in a drunken fit picks her up in order to carry her to bed, saying essentially “I know you said you didn’t want to but I’m going to fuck you.” After such deplorable behavior in a movie today, there would at least be ambiguity about Butler’s character or morality. Nope, not here. We see O’Hara the next morning essentially elated by the burst of passion that just a few hours earlier she was dreading and resisting. Throughout everything, Butler is held up as one of the film’s main heroes, growing from the film’s start as a noble rapscallion who values money too much and gradually evolves into a war hero who earns his people’s respect by protecting his people (and we’ll for argument’s sake just ignore that “protecting his people” means protecting men accused of doling out vigilante, lynch-mob justice which we can only assume implies the KKK). In sum, he’s a complex and charismatic character played wonderfully by Gable, but a character nevertheless that is problematic and would have been better served by a film as willing to highlight these problems as they are willing to highlight them in the film’s protagonist Scarlett O’Hara.

Yes, I’m a thousand words in, and I haven’t even started talking about the actual main character. The movie, for as much as it is discussed as being a love story between O’Hara and Butler or an ode to the Old South, is more a coming-of-age tale (in its first half) and a character study (in its second) focused on O’Hara. She starts the film out a vain, self-indulgent belle of the ball, but faced with the horrors of war and subsequent poverty, she becomes an embodiment of the rotten side of the American Dream: greedy, self-indulgent, and out-of-touch with the world she came from. I suppose that at the end of the film, abandoned by her husband, having lost both of her children, as well as her best friend, O’Hara’s revelation that she should return home to her family’s plantation is supposed to be suggest that she will seek redemption and give up her excesses. That’s fine with me, but I’m not sure the film deserves to just end it there and not allow us to see if she actually earns that redemption. I’m not saying I want MORE Gone With the Wind, just that the story feels incomplete in telling O’Hara’s full story arc.

Still, I can’t say I didn’t enjoy watching O’Hara’s tale unfold. It is always somewhat refreshing to watch film from decades’ past that refuse to present stories that are morally simple (not that I think people in the 30’s were incapable of complex morality, just that movies at the time tend to reflect more simple black-and-white values). To that extent, O’Hara is not a simple character, and is actually quite fascinating. She’s a ruthless capitalist and opportunist, much in the vain of her male counterpart, Butler. I’m curious to know how, for a country just starting to crawl its way out of the Depression and which in just a few short years would see the rise of Rosie the Riveter women, how O’Hara’s devotion to never be in poverty ever again (even if she has to “lie, steal, cheat, or kill”!) was perceived by audiences. Specifically, released at a time when gender norms were all but fixed, I wonder how men thought of her taking advantage of, and almost weaponizing, her femininity for her advantage, marrying three times not out of love but to better herself and survive. Yet, hypocritically she clings to the ideals of femininity of the past. Her use of her femininity to survive she accepts, yet she abhors the film’s stereotypical heart-of-gold prostitute for her moral licentiousness despite her good nature.

Throughout the film, especially in the later half, it was unclear to me how much we as the audience were supposed to like or dislike O’Hara. Yes, she’s hard-working, resilient, and acts heroically multiple times in the film. But she’s also kind of a child til the very end, obscenely jealous, while also cold and calculating, counting down the days til her best friend dies so that she can sleep with her husband. I liked that ambiguity. It made her feel like a real person. To some degree Leigh’s performance as O’Hara is undercut by histrionics and bouts of “hysteria” that were more common in film performances from that time, but which seem a little annoying and grating today. But damn if it isn’t a great performance, display the full emotional range in this film, from buoyantly bright and cheery, to desperate and despaired.

So yeah, I guess I do get why it’s considered a classic, or at least why it made such a splash in 1939. There was nothing like it! The cinematography is great, its characters are fascinating, complex, and engrossing, and the performances (by Gable in particular) are wonderful. But the elephant in the room, then but especially now, is that… damn… this movie is racist, like in its DNA. They double down on this at the VERY START! The fourth shot of the movie (FOURTH!), after first showing a sign announcing the studio who produced the film, then a look at the plantation-like building bearing the studio’s name, and finally some clouds at daybreak, is of slaves tending to crops. The image is set to a triumphant score while the overlaying text tells us that the movie will be based on Margaret Mitchell’s “Story of the Old South.” This is not done ironically. With the beautiful landscape and music, we as audience are to think, “Wow, what a great time this was.” At the end of the opening credits, the prologue text tells us that the antebellum South was the last in a long line of great lands. It’s the last time “gallantry” would exist, and “the last ever to be seen of Knights and their Ladies Fair, or Master and of Slave.” Holy Shit. As if “Master and Slave” is something to celebrate?! “Those damn Yankees would destroy such a beautiful world!” the film argues. Again… not presented ironically. It’s pretty jarring.

That said, I do want to say that to a minimal degree that film is right when it just presents War (with a capital W) in general as a destructive force that either destroys lives outright, or destroys enough property to send lives to ruin. That’s a truth propagated by media as far back as the Iliad, and is sometimes shown effectively here, such as the oft-discussed slow-pan show of the countless Confederate bodies lying dead on the ground mid-way through the film. It’s a depressing sight on an apolitical human level. But, at the same time, the movie’s inability and refusal to address the reason those bodies are there in the first place (racist need to continue slavery), and instead obliquely suggest that the Antebellum South was without any suffering until those damn Yankees brought them ruin is, frankly, insulting and disgusting. It outright ignores the suffering of Black people in favor of highlighting the suffering of whites. A tale unfortunately told ab aeterno in America.

I know others can, have, and will say more about the treatment of Black characters within the film and how they serve only to reinforce negative stereotypes. Mammy, despite being wonderfully acted by Hattie McDaniel, and other house slaves are presented as being eternally grateful to have been enslaved to their white masters, so much so that even after the war they continue to serve them --- because why would they ever want to do differently?! (the film seemingly asks and answers). After the war, Scarlett is more than willing to accept that her lumber mill should be worked by convicts who will be paid less than other workers and suffer harsh treatment, arguing that it is no different than slavery and that has always been ok. WHAT?! And Prissy, the slave who reassures Scarlett that she knows everything about birthing babies, up until the point where her knowledge is needed and she turns out to be nothing more than an airheaded twit, has to be one of the ugliest depictions of a slave I have seen. Particularly, she serves little more than really bad comic relief… with the joke seemingly just being “wow look at how stupid and annoying slaves were.”

This is more than I intended to write, so I won’t go on, but I think everything I had to say has been said. It’s a beautifully shot film, with rich, deep, and complex characters that would be even better served in a movie more willing to dive into the moral ambiguity of their characters, and for Butler in particular not bend over backwards to make him look like a good guy. And I get why it made such an impact 80 years ago, especially in that first half where there’s all the excitement of war and some notable action set-pieces. But even taking out the significant problems the movie has with race, it’s hard for me to understand anyone considers this essential viewing for anyone today besides those with an interest in cinematography, film history, or interested in how race is presented on screen. Its proto-feminist Scarlett O’Hara and her role within an evolving economy and evolving societal ideas of what “love” is are interesting, but they certainly not things that are worth the average viewer’s nearly four hours’ worth of time. It’s a museum piece, one that captured the spirit of a time (and the decades beyond it) where Hollywood felt it was completely OK to romanticize life under slavery, and bemoan its destruction by Yankees. If you want to see this museum piece, go ahead, but don’t let anyone convince you it’s one of the all-time greats.

***/ (Three and a half out of four stars)

Capsule Review: Long movie with great performances and beautiful cinematography... also racist to its core.

[whtaft]

Going Fishing: A Steve & Thor Friendship Fic to Support Planned Parenthood

I’ve been writing ficlets for donations to Planned Parenthood. For more information, see this post. meems asked for a Steve & Thor Endgame time skip friendship fic. Thank you so much!!!

“Thor,” Steve says with a smile as Thor opens the door to his New Asgardian home.

“Steven,” Thor says. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah buddy,” Steve says, going in for a hug. Thor smells a little bit like spilled beer and sweat, but his grip is still himself, familiar and kind. He gives Thor a big pat on the back, then pulls away, takes a look at him. Even if Thor’s a little worse for wear, Steve can’t judge. He knows he is, too. “I’d ask you how you’ve been, but I think we’ve probably both a had a tough time lately.”

“You would be right about that,” Thor says, chuckling sadly. “Well, come in. I’ll introduce you to the crew.”

— —

Steve spends a pleasant enough afternoon with Thor, Korg, and Miek playing Mario Kart and eating pizza. They don’t talk about the things that hover above them like a cloud but that’s alright — they can take their time. Steve has nothing but time.

When Korg and Miek scuttle off to do something, Steve suggests he and Thor take a walk. Thor agrees.

It’s a cool summer night, but the sun hasn’t quite set yet. They’re in that part of the world where the sky only goes hazy at night; it never truly gets dark. New Asgard is beautiful, albeit small. He’s been trying hard to find a bright side to the post-snap world. Maybe one of those things is that there’s space now, for everyone.

But then he thinks about crowded Brooklyn streets, about squeezing in shoulder-to-shoulder with Bucky on the subway, about pushing past rows of full seats to find his own in the Dodgers stadium. And it takes the positive thinking out of him a little.

Still, he finds it in himself to smile at Thor and say, “It’s beautiful here.”

“It is a shame you never saw Asgard,” Thor responds. “You would have liked it there.”

“I’m sure.”

“It all looked so permanent until it wasn’t.” They’re walking towards a body of water, round and flat and blue. “How are things in New York?”

“They go on.” He pauses, looks up at his friend. Thor’s staring at the lake like it’s personally offended him. When Steve looks down, he notices that Thor’s wearing a pair of slippers. “You never got to know my friend Sam well, but I thought about what he’d do in a situation like this. So I started reaching out, finding support groups. I think helping’s gotten me through things as best as I can.”

“I really do not need your help, but I appreciate you—”

“I didn’t come here to help you,” Steve interrupts. Thor frowns at him. “I swear. I came to help me,” he adds with a self-effacing shrug. “I missed my friend.”

“I’m not the man you knew.”

“That’s okay. I’m not the man I was two years ago. I’m not the man I was five, or seventy-five years ago. It’s almost like we’re changing all the time. Guess that’s just part of being alive.”

Silence falls between them, that unspoken whisper of guilt, of wanting to be the ones who didn’t survive, falling over them.

“Do you go out fishing?” Steve asks.

“What?” Thor responds, sounding startled by the question.

“Fishing. I saw some folks pulling up nets on my way in. Do you ever go out?” Thor shakes his head. “Maybe we could try fishing tomorrow. I’ve never been.”

“I haven’t really been…” Thor trails off.

“Going out?” Steve suggests. Thor nods. “That’s okay. I don’t think the fish care if you’ve had a haircut lately.”

Thor laughs and Steve smiles. They start making plans for the next day, too.

— —

“This is delicious,” Steve says as Korg serves him up another piece of fried fish. “Thank you.”

It’s nice to eat something that he and Thor caught together that morning, even if their catch was pretty sparse compared to the other fishermen they spotted out on the water. Turns out, neither of them are much good at fishing. Steve’s been a city boy all his life. Thor’s hunted before, but mainly for sport. Still, they caught enough for a decent dinner for the four of them.

“Well, you know. Just one of those little things I’ve been working on here in New Asgard,” Korg says with a shrug. He seems kind of shy about it, which is cute.

“Well, you’ve done a great job. I hope you all come visit me in New York so I can return the favor.”

Thor chuckles. “I know that you are no cook, my friend.”

“I can order take out pretty well.” He takes a sip of his beer. “And there’s a lot of great food in New York. I’m sure the two of you have a lot you still need to try,” he says to Korg and Miek.

They agree, then Thor steers the direction of the conversation elsewhere. Steve doesn’t mind it, but he does take a long look at his friend, who is studiously not making eye contact with him.

Later, he asks, “Why don’t you want to come back to New York?”

Thor is quiet for a long minute. He plays with a string at the edge of his hoodie. “There is a lot there that remains unfinished.”

“Or that you wish you could finish?”

“But we can’t, now can we,” Thor says, back to that sad smile.

“Guess not.” They sit next to each other, stare at the wall for a long moment. “I miss them. I miss them every day.” He reaches out and slings an arm around Thor’s shoulders. “But I miss you, too. And you’re still around. Even if things can’t be like they were back then, I’d like to be your friend if you’ll still have me.”

Thor shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath. “I can get a cellular telephone,” he says, finally. “We can send those text messages to one another if you’d like.”

Steve smiles. “Yeah,” he says. “That sounds great.”

They smile at each other and even if they’re not whole, even if they’ll never be whole again, at least they have a friend in one another. It’s like a piece of clockwork clicking into place.

[smolbeandrabbles]

What I Never Knew I Always Wanted - Science & Faith Epilogue - Talos (Captain Marvel: AU)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 Author’s Note: Surprise! I told you, I thought the end of Science & Faith was too neat... And the more I thought on it, the more I thought it needed something a little more. Well. This is it. With this - Maliyah and Talos’ story together is officially complete. BUT - you can still see them feature in Out of Nowhere Girl! Can I just quickly thank @3134045126 and @mandy23b for getting me through a tough spot today. Honestly, thank you...  & Jax, without you I probably wouldn’t have bothered with this Epilogue... So... there’s THAT. Disclaimer: MCU Characters not miiiiiiiiiiiine.  Lyrics By Ms.Carrie Underwood. That, just basically went with the WHOLE scenario. Including what was going on in S&F. So... Yeah! All in all a fitting end. Premise: Maliyah has a home. She finally has a home. And after Thanos’ “course correction” of the Universe, she needs that home more than ever...  Words: 3424 Warnings: N/A / Avengers Infinity War & Endgame slight spoilers

                                                        _________

Thought I was happy on my own 'Til you came and proved me wrong I finally found what I never knew I always wanted I couldn't see, I was blind 'til my eyes were opened I didn't know there was a hole Something missing in my soul 'Til you filled it up with your love Never pictured myself singing lullabies Sitting in a rocking chair in the middle of the night In the quiet, in the dark You're stealing every bit of my heart with your daddy's eyes What a sweet surprise And now I'm holdin' what I never knew I always wanted I couldn't see, I was blind 'til my eyes were opened I didn't know there was a hole Something missing in my soul 'Til you filled it up, oh, with your love Life has a way of showing you just what you need And who you were made to be...

---

Maliyah was watching the look on his face very carefully. He wasn’t asking this just because he was interested in the information. He was asking this because he saw a future in her. All she’d done was run from him, and he still saw a future in her... for a second she looked back out across the planet. And her smile was reassured. He was waiting for her. All he’d ever done was wait for her. He didn’t chase her to Xandar and he could have - he’d given her space until politics and war had meant he’d had to go. And of course, he’d expected Garthan in her place. He’d let her use him... because of Keller... and his suggestion she come with him was nothing more than that. She was here by choice. He’d waited for her to make that decision. And she was here. So she had.

“It’s usually held at Weddings. Because by that point if you didn’t want to be connected with someone there’s no hope is there...!” She laughed “although my race doesn’t NEED to connect like this to have children it’s still... there’s a lot more that comes with it than just kids...” she pushed her feet forward, relaxing her position “…Whatever is in it is meant to strengthen the bond but honestly that’s just crap...” She shrugged “as long as your blood is in my system and vice versa and my genetics recognise all the markers, life can be created.” She laughed again “Dumb. Right? Going through all that. Like you need to really be sure you want someone and want kids with someone before you think about doing that...”

Talos held the small bottle of purple liquid close to his heart for a second. This wasn’t just a big decision for her. Maliyah knew that; what she wouldn’t know about him after he decided to take that leap with her wouldn’t be worth mentioning. That’s why he had waited for her to come back from Xandar. He obviously would have hoped for happier circumstances…

“Does… Does your race ever reject DNA? Can… that happen?” She was surprised that that was what he was worried about. And not her previous hostility to the idea. She thought back to the first time he’d mentioned their races could be compatible. A lot had changed since then, but, her absolute conviction that them having a child together would have been no good thing would have done that too him alright. “... Sometimes. Not every molecular structure can possibly support ours. That’s just an impossibility. But you better not be worrying about YOURS you’re gonna be fine; your race is built on pulling it’s DNA apart... all my DNA is going to do is pulls itself apart and add yours to it. And in your body... well I guess it’ll distort your DNA to a point where it could be unrecognisable, but they are just markers. It won’t attack it and neither will it pull it apart. And as long as my genetics read yours and think everything correct and in order well then... yeah. Half-Skrull Half-Auron things are gonna happen. I wonder if that’s already a thing...” she thought on it for minute; it was possible... “So.” He processed this information very fast. Because she was hiding behind a lot of genetic babble he didn’t really understand other than; if the blood of your significant other is ingested to fuse with your DNA, her body would give the A-OK and babies could happen. But that wasn’t what she was SAYING. “So you’re really sure about this…?”

She paused, and turned back to him. The way his eyes were suddenly sure and confident – at the smile he was giving her. Maliyah wasn’t sure whether she was impressed or terrified that he could cut through all that to figure out what she was really telling him. The complicated genetics of her race hadn’t served to confuse him enough to not ask any questions - just nod along as if he understood - but here he was asking the exact question she wanted him to. Still, Maliyah was as like to hide behind her own answers, and she gave a mysterious little smile; “I’ve thought about it enough. After what I’ve just witnessed…” She looked away from him with a small shrug “…I don’t think my future has ever been more clear than it is right now.” She turned her eyes back on him; that pleading sincerity that begged him to see everything she couldn’t say.

Her future was him. And that was all she could see. *** In the aftermath of what Thanos has done, and had now been undone, it was hard for Maliyah to catch a break. When she had got to Xandar it was too late. The planet was gone. Thanos had destroyed it for the Infinity Stone. Everything she had ever known and loved. For those lucky enough to be off planet at the time, Maliyah and Carol had taken time to relocate. Just as many Skrulls had. Thankfully Maliyah could name Denarian Day, Yoel and her adoptive parents among those who had survived. She didn’t think she could take losing any more family… What hurt was, with all that was reversed with the effects of the snap, it didn’t bring Xandar back. That had it’s own silver lining. With no way to contact Xandar, a planet that no longer existed, Maliyah’s race had no way to trace her. And for that she was thankful. It allowed her a life. But, as their Supernova, the Xandarian’s needed her now more than ever, and every time she rocketed across the galaxy to check on things it tore her apart a little more. She hated not being home.

* There was not a point in her life Maliyah thought she would tire of re-entering the atmosphere here. She already knew the smile crossing her face as the fading sunlight glittered across the lake; she’d been home within 5 minutes. She’d be back with him in 5 minutes��� Even now it made her pulse quicken. She dropped her speed as she swept through the city buildings. She no longer had to report everything she did straight away. After Thanos, that wasn’t surprising. Everything came into real perspective when half the damn population of the Universe was suddenly halved. She was selfishly grateful that she had the good fortune to lose no one else. …Well… She supposed, she did lose everything she had ever known since she was six. And that was far more than just enough. She could have sprinted those last few corridors if she’d wanted to. But she kept control of herself. Just a little longer. What was a few more seconds? Then she’d be back in his arms. And not just his arms. The door unlocked automatically as she walked towards it. She still wasn’t sure of that as a safety feature on a planet full of shapeshifters. Talos assured her every single time that it WAS. Maliyah was still cautious – now she was positive you could never be too careful. Also she felt it defeated the purpose of making a surprise return home. Whoever was on the other side of the door would know someone that lived there was approaching. Maliyah scoffed at her own thought – as a Supernova, she was a literally shooting star crossing the sky. There’s no way you couldn’t notice her returning home. She pushed against the door and was surprised herself to be met with relative silence. “Hello?” Her voice echoed for a few seconds, making her frown. But running footsteps made her turn just as someone skidded into the main corridor. She was startled for a second to be faced with a boy of six. Dark hair (a mess as ever) and hazel eyes; wide. He was breathing heavily as he started down the corridor towards her. Her son always changed his form. She wasn’t sure why. His ‘human’ one always unnervingly reminded her of Garthan at his age, and more than a little bit of her was scared of that prospect. Garthan wasn’t blood, so that wasn’t genetics. That was a choice her son was making… She wondered if that choice had something to do with Garthan being his namesake. It was the only thing she’d really insisted on. “MOM!!!” She stumbled a little at the force of his hug; sometimes it was just too obvious which half of him was Skrull. “…Garth-! Careful-!” She wound her arms around him with a smile, and his skin flared up to match hers. His natural colours a strange mix of greens and purple-blues. She liked it. It was like combining her and Talos into one. Which, she guessed Garthan was anyway. She ran her hands through his hair, with a raised eyebrow; “You’re getting good at this…” she looked him over “It’s actually a little scary.” “I practice. A lot.” “Too much.” If she’d heard Talos tell him he’d wear himself out once she’d heard it a billion times. “Where’s your father…?” “That’s what I was coming to TELL you!” He grabbed her hand and pulled her – again, unaware of his own strength “Come on! We need to GO-!” and my trip was great too, Garthan, thanks for asking-! She couldn’t help but laugh. He got his impatience from her, and it drove Talos crazy. ‘I thought one of you was enough!’ He would grumble half in jest. Maliyah would just smirk ‘Would you have him ANY other way?!’

She continued to let her son drag her through the building, then outside and into another one. She’d managed to pull him back with strength of her own to a more sensible pace, and it was then whilst studying him that she realised that his shifting wasn’t yet perfect. There were still little flecks of purple in his eyes every time he would turn to answer her questions, patches of his skin were shades of green. She wondered more if that was because he couldn’t completely hold his shift yet. He’d mastered it quick – but Talos had said TOO quick. ‘No kid should be that natural’ ‘He’s not exactly just any kid though. Is he?’ ‘Still. If he doesn’t exercise caution, he’ll burn himself out. Then he won’t be able to do it!’ Then the little nudge came Maliyah would always give him now, because she could. She’d married him. ‘He just wants to be like YOU.’ ‘That’s why he wants to look so much like you, is it?’ Then she would tell him to shut up, without saying it. And he knew the one thing on her mind was Keller. Eventually she realised where they were going, and Garthan let her hand go to walk in-step with her. He could almost match her strides now. He was tall, for a six-year-old. And he ALWAYS tried to act like he was much older. The way his back straightened and the smile all but disappeared from his face. Far too much like my brother. They rounded the last corner towards the circular room with the highly decorated domed roof. The first time Maliyah and Talos had had a real conversation about their future here was that very room. Skrulls practiced shapeshifting here and she’d watched Garthan take lessons many a time. But Gathan had stayed home to wait for her. So that could mean only one other thing.  They both slowed significantly, so as not to interrupt the moment that was clearly happening. And stopped. Quiet. Garthan touched his hand to hers for reassurance but did not hold it. Talos was crouched down; one knee on the floor to support himself; “-Taliah.” His idea. But the mix of their names suited her too. “…What’s wrong… Sweetheart… You’ll get the hang of it. It’s okay.” If Garthan was the child prodigy of shifting, his sister was the exact opposite. At four years old that was totally fine, she was just starting out. But the problem was she knew that at four Garthan could already do so many complicated things “I can’t do it…” “Baby… you can…” Her blue-purple eyes (gifted with Maliyah’s instead.) flicked to the ground defeated and disbelieving. So Talos took her tiny hands in his. “You can do this. I know you can… All it takes it practice… Just a little bit of practice…” “But Garthan said-” “Hey- Shhh! Forget what your brother said. You’re going to be better at this than him one day – you know that?” “Really!?” That automatically brightened her mood, and she smiled. Just a little more and he’d get those colours going again he knew. Maliyah smiled to herself and let her eyes flick down to her son. He was quiet, but the look on his face clearly read as if! She nudged him with her hip and he looked to her in surprise for a second. Like he knew he was caught thinking something he shouldn’t be – it made him look guilty. She gave him a wink and ran her hand back through his hair. If she knew what she thought she did, in a few years’ time this boy would be what Garthan Saal had always been for her, to his own little sister. He tried to act like he wasn’t right now. But he was. “I promise.” He touched his forehead to hers. And the gentle purring coming from both of them made Maliyah’s skin ignite gently. She had to press her fingers to her lips for a second to stop herself from crying. “Thank you Daddy-!” Taliah threw her arms around him now, and he reciprocated. Enveloping her in his own. Maliyah often wondered if her children would have a significant height different too. Taliah was tiny in comparison to her older brother. It wouldn’t surprise her... “That’s… Ok… sweetheart…”   Hugs were a different kind of affection. This had come from Maliyah. Because everyone that visited that wasn’t a Skrull was greeted with the biggest hug imaginable. Both her children observed this as abnormal behaviour. But… in time it was just something that became second nature. Affection; in the way it was shown by the two races they were made from. “MOMMY!” She squealed it – letting her father go and running the short distance as Maliyah too sunk to her knees; “Tali! My sweet girl!” The embrace was tight. And her daughters usually purple skrull markings lit up pink – the same colour Maliyah harboured – and blue. This particular shade of blue was an unusual addition. She didn’t like to think on Keller too much anymore… But she couldn’t help it when she saw that blue… “How was practice?” “…Oh… okay…” She sounded a little disheartened, making Maliyah tilt her head “Aw, now, I’m sure you were perfect.” “-I- I think you were pretty good when I saw earlier-!” There it was. Maliyah turned to her son; the smile on his face as he tried not to think about the fact he was trying to rebuke his fathers statement. Forget what your brother said. Hoping Taliah wouldn’t forget this. “-before I left! It…! It takes time! I---I could help! I’m sure!” Maliyah let her little girl leave her arms as she rounded on her brother, eyes wide in awe. And then watched the way they relapsed into her husbands language. Leaving them to it, whilst also touching her sons hair – to let him know he’d done the right thing, she turned to the man now walking slowly over to her. “Did she?” “…Do well?” “Mmm hmm…!” “She’ll get there…” He smiled “I missed you too.” She knew she was washed with purple and green – bright. It told him all he needed to know. “I worry more about them than I do YOU, y’know.” “I don’t doubt.” Talos inclined his head to usher his family out of the room and back home. Their children running eagerly ahead. “Garthan-!” He turned; expecting Talos to ask him to shift back. “-Careful! Don’t get too far ahead.” This once, he wouldn’t. Just this once. By the time they reached home Garthan would be back in his normal form by the looks of him right now. Still, the fact Talos didn’t made his sons face light up. And he was glad of that.  Maliyah and Talos walked close. Millimetres between them, but they never quite touched. If there was conversation at all it was nothing more than a few words. Both of them were preoccupied with the two running in front of them.  The real conversation would happen later – when they were tucked up safe in bed and dreaming – and between their parents, it might not even be a conversation then either. * Talos breathed a sigh of relief as he finally closed their bedroom door “I swear. That boy…” “He just wants to be you…” “Yes. Maybe. But he’s just you.” She chuckled gently, pushing herself away from the balcony and walking back inside “Asleep though?” “Ha!” For now. “I don’t know where he gets that energy. I used to think that maybe if he could shift as well as he can that it might balance itself? That he’d use it all up doing that. I’m now starting to think he’s got his own sun-based powers.” He shook his head “Our children are by and by though. How was the trip? What did I miss?” Maliyah shook her head “…Not a lot. Just checking in. Rebuilding… It just takes so long. They may have homes, and Carol and I checking in every so often but… Rebuilding as a community?? It might take generations. And watching that is hard for me.” He nodded because he knew, the same thing had happened here. And it was still hard for him even though he had her. Talos took Maliyah gently in his arms and she was glad for his embrace. She wound hers around him and pushed her head into his chest with a satisfied sigh; “I’m just happy to be home…” “I’m happy you are home… Would… you like me to begin accompanying you again?” Sometimes when she left the planet she wouldn’t leave alone. On rare occasions Talos would share the journey. But it was hardly the same as being back home. And it meant leaving their kids. He also had to occasionally leave for military reasons, and Maliyah didn’t like the fact the children would be left without either parent. Eventually they agreed; only one of them off planet at any given time. He knew what she was thinking; “We could bring them with us…” He murmured it; rubbing her arms gently. That 8-point star ringing gently on his wrist as he did so. It made her pull from his arms and take his hands. It had never once let her down. Before their children, and their marriage – if you could call it that. She guessed it was; but it didn’t come with rings or vows. – she would often return to find him already gone. Finding that star was easy, and it meant she could find his embrace too… “No… They should stay. It’s important they stay…” She gave a smile “But. Maybe I could stay now too.” He tipped his head “…Why? Are you not due back? When are you next due out?” She laced her fingers with his and gave a knowing smirk; “I’m grounding myself. I think.” There was a good few seconds of silence before he spoke again; “Think. Or know.” She smiled at the smile breaking across his face; “Knooow?” “Oh my god-!” It was such a human expression. Everything he’d carried over from his previous life. “Three?!” He took a deep breath that made her laugh. He couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice; the instant rush of joy. “There was one point I wasn’t even sure we’d get to have one! But three!?” “…Well, thankfully, I’m not that girl anymore. Am I?” Talos didn’t even answer her, just pulled her back into him – into a kiss. His colours illuminated the room – vibrant, pure, full of Maliyah’s own happiness. And he didn’t dare let her go. They both moved at the same time to touch their foreheads together – sharing that same sound, even if she could only imitate it – she kept her hands locked with his. This time she couldn’t help but voice it. Even if it didn’t need to be uttered. Even if she’d already said it enough with actions. “I love you.” He pulled her body into his; and he couldn’t help but kiss her gently again; “I know you do. Supernova.” ____ @mfolcore 😘😘😘

[makerkenzie]

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE...

Let’s just toss out the question of how much info D&D got from GRRM. Sure they knew more than we do about how ASOIAF ends, but they chose to shit all over it. I’m not even trying to predict what GRRM has in mind for his endgame. He may still be figuring it out himself! 

I’m just gonna start with what we had from GOT as of the Season 7 finale and go from there.

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, the White Walker threat would not have been taken care of in the first half of the season. It would not have been a simple matter of stabbing one bad guy with a fancy knife. Dany and Jon would have made more substantial contributions to getting rid of the WWs. 

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, Dany’s going full-on Mad King’s Daughter would have been more about “there’s no way to help this country except to destroy it” and less “oh no my nephew won’t make out with me.”

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, Jon’s death and resurrection would have meant something more substantial than a plot device to get him out of the Night’s Watch.

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, there would have been no Cleganebowl. Sandor would have stayed in the North with the Starks. He might have married Sansa, or just been a household (non-)knight. Sansa might have rewarded his service by naming him lord of Last Hearth or Bear Island. Point being he would have prioritized his own life over that bullshit revenge fantasy. At the very least he would have survived Cleganebowl and gotten on with his life. 

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, Euron Greyjoy would have accomplished something a bit more interesting than shooting one dragon and then missing the last.

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, Tyrion’s hard work would have achieved anything constructive at all. 

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, Jaime and Brienne would have been together for more than a month. Jaime would have loved Brienne more than he hated himself. We would have seen more of them being together. Tyrion would have sprung Jaime from his prison tent and told him to get his ass back to Winterfell and beg his tall lady-knight’s forgiveness. 

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, Arya would have gone nowhere near KL. She’d be with Gendry. There’s no reason why Gendry needs to be Lord of Storm’s End, but he and Arya should be together.

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, the process of ending the WW threat would have been more important than the process of fighting over who rules the Seven Kingdoms.

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, the ignition of the wildfire caches would have been USEFUL. Destructive, yes, but also contributing SOMETHING to saving Westeros from the Long Night. 

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, Jaime would have gone nowhere near Cersei. Sorry, folks, I still maintain Jaime is not the Valonqar. I gotta admit, though, Jaime killing Cersei is no more thematically wrong than his choosing to die with her. If he must kill her, though, his doing so should actually prevent more death and destruction. If Jaime kills Cersei and then Dany still sets the city on fire? Pointless. If Jaime kills Cersei, her death prevents the city being destroyed, and he survives the process and goes back to Brienne? That’s okay. Overall, though, it’s really best for Jaime’s arc if he just doesn’t give a shit about what happens to Cersei. In order to kill her, he has to be in the room with her. Which is exactly what she wants. If he had to leave Brienne, he would have told her what he had in mind, he would have accomplished something that left Westeros better off than if he’d stayed at Winterfell, and he would have lived to go back to his life with Brienne. 

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, Jaime and Brienne, together, would have contributed something more interesting to ending the White Walker threat than simply ending a bunch of Snow Zombies. Twin Valyrian steel swords should mean something. 

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, Bran would have done something more useful and more interesting than to serve as bait for the Night King. His contribution to ending the White Walker threat would have been more significant than his figuring out Jon is Rhaegar’s son. 

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, Missandei would have either lived longer or died with more dignity.

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, Theon would not have died in Ep3, or if he did, his death would have done something more powerful than just buy Bran a little more time before Arya showed up. Theon’s arc would have been more about the balance of Greyjoy and Stark and less about sacrificing himself for the benefit of the Starks. 

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, Jorah would have lived longer, or his death would have achieved something better than keeping Dany alive so she could set fire to the capital because her nephew wouldn’t make out with her.

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, there would have been some acknowledgment of how many Dothraki died in the first few minutes of the big battle, and what that means for Dany’s odds as a ruler. Although?

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, they would not have wasted a huge percentage of the Dothraki on a blind charge before they’ve even tried using the dragons. 

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, Melisandre would have contributed more than just buying the alliance a tiny bit of time to catch their breath before the NK made hash of the fire-trench. 

IN A FINAL SEASON THAT MADE SENSE, Sansa would have waited more than 3 minutes before she was all like “HEY TYRION GUESS WHAT!” and then Tyrion would’ve waited more than 3 minutes before he was all like “HEY VARYS GUESS WHAT!” There should have been more of a struggle over spreading the news.

I’m sure I’ll think of more throughout the day. 

[lazy-cat-corner]

Repost: Prompt- Lyrics to Seven Wonders

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Loki X Valkyrie

Words: 2800k

Summary:Post Endgame but an Infinity War AU where Loki survives. It’s been two years since Valkyrie was home and she thinks she’s about ready to pack her bags to Norway and then an unexpected visitor comes to New York. This fic is a prompt that follows the lyrics to Fleetwood Mac’s “Seven Wonders”.

Notes: I am so sorry if you’re seeing me repost this but I’m 99.9% sure tumblr filtered the post out because of a link I embedded (screams). I’m so mad about that. Anyway, here’s a repost of it. (If you’ve already read this don’t feel obligated to like/reblog) I’m just posting this so it appears in searches because like whats the point if no one can see it, right? (takes calming breaths) 

You can listen to Fleetwood Mac’s version of Seven Wonders but I was listening to Alice Kristiansen’s version on YT. I highly recommend listening to more of her songs. Not only does she look like Natalie Portman’s doppelganger, but she has the voice and talent of an angel! Enjoy!

So it’s hard to find someone with that kind of intensity.

You touch my hand I play it cool and you reached out your hand to me.

But if our paths never cross, well you know I’m sorry but~ Fleetwood Mac

It felt long ago since Brun’s last seen him, yet the second the two make eye contact, it feels like they could pick up where they’ve left off. If only they could get past the awkward introductions.

 She’s only just arrived back in New York after months of tireless work with SHIELD chasing down a mad god in Brazil and before all of that there was busy work with Tony in headquarters. She arrived the other night already set on staying for only a couple weeks to pack her things and return to her home in Norway.

 She grabs a handful of clothes and stuffs it in a cardboard box.  

 “If you’re leaving, then you have to go to the anniversary party I’m throwing!”

 Tony leans against the door frame of Brun’s room.

 Brun has a shirt in her hands and knits her eyebrows in thought. She’s pretty sure he married Pepper in the fall.  

 “Who’s anniversary?”

 “Ours! Well, everyone’s, really. It’s been nearly five years since,” Tony waves his hands in the air. Still too shaken to directly mention the day they somehow got lucky and undid everything Thanos destroyed.

 “I’m not really up for a party,” Brun sighs.

 “Is that even possible for you to say those words?”  

 “I’m just really ready to go home, Stark.  I haven’t been up for partying for some time, you know that.”

 “Yeah, I guess so.” He shrugs. “But this one is important. I’ve been working on it for months. Everyone will be there!”

 “Everyone?” Brun raises her eyebrows in disbelief.

“Well, Thor can’t make it.” Tony answers her silent question

 A feeling of disappointment courses through Brun. She shrugs and continues packing.

 No matter, they will be reunited soon.

 “I’m going to take that silence as a yes. Yes Tony, I can’t wait to go to your super fun party!” He says as he walks out of her room making an awful impression of herself.

 She forgot how striking Loki’s eyes are until now. The small reflective lights from the disco ball Tony hung up in the venue dances in the blue of his eyes. His gaze shifts back to Pepper Potts clutching a glass of champagne and enthusiastically telling him about her newest project with Tony. Loki places a gentle hand over her shoulder and politely says something to her Brun can’t make out. Pepper’s face shifts from excitement to confusion until she turns her head and follows Loki’s line of sight. Her face softens and gives Brun a smile before she quietly makes her way deeper in the crowd of guests.  

 Loki’s steps are slow and cautious. Almost like he’s afraid if he moves too quickly it would startle her and she’d run away. Like how she did before.

 They stand in silence for a moment and exchange a polite smile.

 She knows someone has to speak first before it gets too awkward and it’s probably already gotten awkward at this point-

 “Hi.” She blurts.

 “Your hair,” Loki points. “Did something different with it?”

 Brun’s hand touches her hair she put up in braids and smirks remembering Thor saying those words to her sometime ago.

Must run in the family.  

 “Brazil was really humid,” she says without thinking, “Had to keep it out of the way and I guess I’m not ready to part with it.”

 “It looks, nice.”

 “Thanks,” she mutters.

 She should say something, anything to hide that her head is running at a rapid pace. Is it too late for her to say sorry? Should she even address what’s probably obvious to the both of them or pretend like nothing happened?

 “It’s good to see you,” Loki says each word carefully.

 “Yeah,” Brun fidgets with her dress, “you too.”

 The noise in the room grows quiet as Pepper approaches the stage up front and asks for everyone’s attention.

 Brun leans over to Loki and quietly continues.

 “It’s been nearly…” Brun purses her lips counting back the months since he left.

 “Two years,” Loki finishes.

 “Right,” she turns up to Loki and notices his attention to Pepper’s speech. “You’ve been, busy, i see?”

 She mentally scolds herself. Brun’s slayed gods with her Dragonfang sword and yet here she is choosing to cower and see how long they can go without talking about the last night she saw him.

 Loki turns to her and gives a warm smile. He leans in closer and answers.  

 “Thor thought it would be best I serve as a sort-of Ambassador to Asgard. Go around and speak publicly, maybe get more countries on our side. He’s out of his mind, but I admit everyone’s been more tolerant of me since I began the campaign.”

 Brun tries to find the right words to say. Her train of thought is derailed when the rest of the party guests catch her attention.  

 A round of applause erupts and Pepper speaks louder into the microphone.  

 “Again, thank you all for coming. This is an important day for all of us. With that said, let’s begin with the awards!”

 Pepper holds a plaque up in the air and explains the significance of it. She finishes by motioning to the pair standing off to the side.

 “Unfortunately, Thor couldn’t be here to accept the award. So their ambassador, his brother, Loki Odinson, will be accepting on his behalf.”

 “They never said anything about awards.” Brun defends.

 “Of course they didn’t,” Loki grits his teeth. “Excuse me for a moment,” He hands Brun his drink and approaches the stage to give an improvised acceptance speech his palace tutors probably had him perfect for centuries. It’s the type of speech that could win him a position of power if he didn’t already have bad blood with New York.

 She expected the atmosphere of the party to be more hostile towards Loki. Even if he contributed to Thanos’s defeat, it’s not something he brags about when he’s on TV. Brun has to give it to Asgard, they have a good PR team if they could get him back in Midgard’s good graces.  

 “See, I told you everyone would be here!” Tony’s voice catches her attention. He’s clutching two glasses of bourbon and hands her one.

 “You invited him, too?” She takes a sip out of her glass and closes her eyes in bliss. Tony seems to be the only one on Earth who understands her taste.

 “At first, and he said no.”

 “Which is why I know he would have no interest in something like this. Not without some sort of persuasion.”

 “I might have mentioned you were going to be here,” Tony takes a casual sip of his glass.

 “Why?”

 “Thought you could use a familiar face. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you haven’t been yourself lately and when you let it slip you hoped Thor would show up-

 “I never said that,” Brun interrupts.

 “It was implied,” he defends, “Anyway, you seemed bummed when I said he said no so I picked up the phone and let Point Break know you were going to the party before you returned. I didn’t think he would have the time and you were supposed to be meeting him tomorrow, anyway. And then Loki called me back…”    

 The party gives another round of applause with a few whistles in the background.

 Tony keeps his focus ahead on the pair on stage when he adds, “He seemed pretty enthusiastic, when he asked me about you.”

 Brun feels her cheeks heat up. On instinct, she cools herself down with another drink from her glass.

 Pepper pulls Loki in for a brief hug and shakes his hand one last time before he steps down the stairs. Brun watches as he gives a few people in passing a friendly wave on his way back and laughs to herself. He would probably never admit how natural he is with people.

 When he’s out of sight from everyone else, Loki lets the plaque fade into one of his pocket dimensions. Brun holds out his glass and he thanks her before taking a long sip.

 “What did you get yourself?” Loki motions to her glass in her hand.

 “Tony-” Brun motions next to her and notices he slipped away at some point. “Was here,” she shrugs. “Didn’t get a chance to ask what he got me. Something expensive, probably.” She takes another drink.  

 The awards end and Pepper claps her hands motioning to the dance floor on the other side of the ballroom. The music begins and pulls everybody to the other side.

 “Bar’s open,” Loki motions to empty stools. “Care for another drink?”

 “You already know my answer,” Brun laughs.

 They sit together in silence and watch the rest of the party dance along. By her second glass, Brun’s finding it difficult to sit still and stay quiet. She needs to do something, or say something. She’s scared she might say something wrong or make things worse somehow. Without warning, she stands up to leave. Loki reaches out and holds her wrist.

 Loki’s eyes turn to glass and his lips tighten.

 “Brunnhilde, I’m s-

 “Don’t apologize.” Brun cuts him off. “Don’t-don’t pretend like any of it was your fault. Let’s just…”

 Loki lifts his eyebrows, waiting for her to finish.

 Brun motions to the party. “Start over? Or something,” she sets herself back on the stool.  

 “Is that really what you want?”

 Brun considers her words for a moment.

 “I don’t know what I want,” she confesses.  

 A familiar song plays that catches Brun’s attention. A memory flashes in her head the last time they heard this song. They both had too much to drink at the pub and found themselves dancing in front of a jukebox. It wasn’t anything unusual for something like that to happen to them. They often found themselves tangled in each others arms after a good drink. Eventually, they found themselves doing it without any alcohol needed.  

 Loki catches Brun swaying to the song and leans in.

 “Dance with me?”

 Brun blinks and is about to ask him why when he takes her hand and holds still for a moment. There’s a look in his eyes waiting for Brun to recoil and praying she doesn’t. Brun curls her fingers and lets him pulls her further in.

 Loki winds his arm around Brun’s back and she instinctively melts into his embrace. This feels different from how they used to dance.

 Before, they would be constantly moving. Always reaching for something more. In hopes they could find something that’s enough or could soothe them for the time being. Now, they’re swaying so slow, they’re practically standing still. It lulls Brun into a state of tranquility and her thoughts are finally slowing down to a pace she can keep up with.  

 She’s not sure if she heard Loki humming along to the song, but the vibrations on his chest pull her closer to his embrace.  

 Brun looks up and studies Loki’s content expression. A calmness overtaking her as she realizes the truth.

 She remembers why she ran off the first time. It feels stupid now, but at the time it terrified her.

 Brun’s never met someone with that kind of intensity.

 She left thinking she wasn’t ready for a relationship so serious and after some time alone she learned that she’s right. These two years apart taught her so much more about what she wants and it’s unlikely she could ever give Loki that life he wants with her. But maybe she could give him something different?

 When the song finishes they step away from the dance floor, grab some drinks at the bar and find an empty table to sit at.

 Finally feeling comfortable and confident enough, Loki leans forward and asks her about her work in Brazil. Brun starts to explain the whole situation and stops mid-story.

 For some reason, the music is growing louder. And the two look over to spot a guest at the DJ table shouting in the microphone.

 Brun leans into Loki’s ear and attempts to sound casual, “Who let him on stage?”

 The pair shift uncomfortably in their seats. The beat of the song pounding into their chests and sending an unsettling feeling up their spines. It takes them back to five years ago. That time when everyone believed they lost their hearing. When all they could see was darkness.

 Brun’s finding it difficult to peer over to Loki. Partly because her vision is becoming narrow and another part of her feels like it would be rude to see him in such a vulnerable state. She looks down at her glass and is surprised to find it empty. How long have they been still?

 Eventually, Pepper approaches the DJ’s table and lowers the speakers, reminding everyone about safety codes.

 After a few deep breaths, Loki finally speaks up.  

 “If you’d prefer, we can finish catching up at my hotel. Stark gifted me with this nice bottle of wine I think you would appreciate.”

 “What makes you think that?”  

 “Because Stark said you’d appreciate it.” He answers bluntly.

 Brun barks out a shaky laugh.She catches Tony sitting at a table on the other side of the room while he smugly raises a glass her way. She throws a brief glare before she turns back. Was he watching them this whole time?  

 “It better be good if he said I’d like it.” Brun grits her teeth.

 Loki stands up and sets his half-finished glass down.

 “Let’s go.” Loki reaches his hand out.

 “Now?” Brun looks at the guests enjoying a song that must be popular because everyone knows the steps to it.

 “If you want,” he offers.

 Brun considers for a moment and wonders what else she could possibly be waiting to happen here. Brun takes his hand and they step out the front doors. The cool air brushes Brun’s cheeks and her eardrums are pulsing as soon as she steps out of the noise.  

 She’s not sure where they’re going and she wonders if Loki’s just going to teleport them to his hotel.

 “I hope you don’t mind,” he leads them down the subway stairs. “I’ve been using my seidr all day and I could use a break. Besides, I thought we could enjoy the ride.”

 They get passes at the machine and pass through the gates. Like it was on cue, a train comes their way and stops.

 They find an empty cart in the subway and sit in the back.

 Brun looks out the window and watches the bricks shift into houses as the train makes its way above ground. Loki unconsciously squeezes her hand and it catches her attention at their hands intertwined and resting on his lap. She didn’t notice until just now. Loki hasn’t stopped holding her hand.

 He holds her hand until they reach the end of the line.

 Brun settles herself on a chair in the hotel room as Loki uncorks the bottle of wine. A berry scent wafting in the air as it pops open and Brun licks her lips. Unsurprisingly, Tony once again knew what her taste buds wanted. Loki pours her a glass and they exchange what they’ve been up to the past two years. As soon as they began, it felt like opening up floodgates. They talk, and laugh and smile without a single beat of silence.

 By the time they finished the bottle of wine, they moved their conversation to the bed. It didn’t matter who started kissing, only that it didn’t end.

 She slowly starts peeling her dress off and pulling Loki deeper into their kiss. Her heart stutters when she feels the familiar contours of his chest and his mouth hitting all those places that drove her wild. Brun tilts her head back and lets him set her down on the mattress. Her hands running into his soft hair and the need to pull him closer grew stronger and more desperate.  

 It didn’t feel awkward like Brun thought it would. It felt natural, like picking up a book where it was last marked. She expected to feel regret afterwards, but all she can feel is bliss.

 Loki presses his forehead against hers and tries to control his breathing when they kiss one last time. Brun tastes a small trace of salt left on his lips when she opens her mouth and deepens the kiss.

 They have little need to speak, but they both struggle to find the right words. Loki opens his mouth and she interrupts.

 “We don’t have to talk about it. Maybe later.”  

 There’s a look of relief in Loki’s eyes when he gives a curt nod and turns off the lights. Loki pulls the comforter over and while it feels too hot for a blanket right now, her limbs are too relaxed for her to protest.

 Brun moves closer in Loki’s embrace and runs small patterns on his bare chest. His even breathing pulling her into a peaceful sleep.

 They will talk, eventually. Pretend like they need to figure out what it meant that they fucked, but they both know better. It’s impossible to keep away and Brun’s not sure if that’s a bad thing. Could they have a content future together?

 Brun closes her eyes and imagines what it would be like.

  It might work out someday, Brun thinks to herself.