#this hand-wringing bullshit pisses me off

[undeadorion]

Didn't want to reblog the whole long post where this was at the end of it, but this idea is so fucking out of touch with reality.

What people categorize as "mockery" is often people fighting against dangerous misinformation, like anti-vax bullshit. Or attempts to show the truth. But it's seen as mockery because it's not pandering to the conspiracy theorist's world view.

The original post had a bunch of screenshots of some guy saying that conspiracy theorists are "scientists gone awry." But this ignores a fundamental aspect of the conspiracy mindset, especially in regards to flat earthers. They are at their core anti-science to the point that they often refuse to do any experiments while yelling "do your own research". And by research they mean watch other like-minded youtubers. On the rare occasion they do just a modicum of research that produces results they don't like, they make excuses.

For example, the podcast Oh No Ross and Carrie went out on a lake with a big group of flat earthers to run a pretty standard experiment. I believe they ran this on the Salton Sea. First they tried the simple way, having people with binoculars look out over the long distance of the lake to show that you couldn't see the bottom of the houses. The flat earthers climbed onto an embankment to bring them back into view, insisting that disproved the curve. So they went through with rigging up a boat with a series of flags to mark vertical distance and sailed off across the lake. When the first flag disappeared, the flat earthers claimed refraction and refused to accept anything else.

Mark Sargent and his cronies set up the classic experiment of 2 people a set distance apart and shining a light through a hole in the board. They refused to accept the results.

A vast majority of the especially loud conspiracy theorists think "just look at it" is evidence enough. Or "it looks like [x]" as proof they're right. Like the moon and the sun "look like" they're the same size, therefore they are the same size. Or the sun "looks like" it moves across the sky, therefore it's a projection or on a track.

If your cousin or sibling or friend or what have you is pushing this nonsense, sure, empathy is a good route there. But on a large scale, it needs to be addressed head on and debunked at every possible step.

If you want to see mockery, look at conspiracy theorist responses to people's respectful responses to their own nonsense. One debunker I enjoy watching is Creaky Blinder. Yes, he's sarcastic and pokes fun at some things, but it's to highlight just how ridiculous some of this nonsense is. Kent Hovind responds to him frequently, mocking him and calling him "Creepy" and making fun of his tattoos. Some guy named Expat Taffy flings so many insults there's a running insult counter on the video. Taffy keeps insisting that Creaky refuses to debate him and calling Creaky a coward for it, while Creaky keeps showing that Taffy is outright deleting comments trying to set up a debate.

But that's all about the moderately benign conspiracy theorists like flat earthers. They're spreading misinformation but that theory alone is generally harmless (unless they're like that piece of shit that harassed Buzz Aldrin and demanded he "admit" he never went to the moon and got punched for it).

Most other conspiracies are actually dangerous to real people. Anti-vaxxers get people, especially their own children, killed. Covid deniers who coughed in people's faces and licked random things exposed vulnerable people to a fatal virus. There's people pushing ideas like drinking bleach and worse.

One that's especially insidious is the "transvestigators". People who think being trans is this huge conspiracy and almost everyone but themselves are trans, and they analyze photos for "gender markers" to prove it. Not just celebrities, but anyone.

The problem is these all overlap. Someone isn't JUST a flat-earther. They end up buying into more dangerous ideologies along the way. One that comes to mind is Hans Wormhat (yes, that's the name he chose to use). He's a flat earther who insists everything is fake. Including animals. His proof is always "just look at it, that's not real." Then in a video about "proof" of the flat earth, he slips in a comment after something with "trans" comes up, like "There's that word again." Just a subtle thing. Until you dig deeper and discover he thinks trans people are trying to take over the world.

Just remember Pizzagate. Jan 6. Q-anon. Pseudo science and other misinformation that's just as dangerous.

"Show them empathy not mockery" is such a fucking false dichotomy. And it reeks of "I thought you were supposed to be tolerant of everyone." You can (and should) fight misinformation without mockery. It's simple enough, just don't include statements calling the person a moron, no matter how much you want to. Stick to objective facts. They will still read it as mockery or a personal insult and have a complete meltdown over it, but that's on them.

Above all else, do not tolerate the intolerant, because they will walk all over you.

[ohcaptains]

smoke and mirrors

synopsis. jess finds subtle ways to let everyone know you’re hers. 

an. back on my jess bullshit. though to be honest, i never really left. here’s something short and sweet. apologies if you’re not in the aloto fandom, mostly because it’s good and you’re missing out on great telly !

warnings. ‘hiding’ ones sexuality and mentions of homophobia. not beta’d.

It all started when she saw you hanging with the Danvers’ eldest son. Had stepped out of the grocer with a fresh pack of smokes, and her first drag was ruined from the sight of you walking into the diner with his arm slung over your shoulder.

Rage had ripped through her, a living, breathing thing. It fuelled her, sparking a desire to stalk over there, rip his arm from you and then slug him one in the face. Feel the pop of his nose from under her knuckle, then see the blood start to pour. Yet she stayed rooted in her spot. Never dared to cross that line. 

She dreamt about it later that night, instead. 

Got into bed and imagined beating him senseless, then pulling you into her and planting a kiss on your pretty lips, victorious. She knew it came from an odd sense of masculinity that she’d aspired to but was never allowed to achieve.

 I want everyone to know that you’re mine, she’d whispered into your ear a couple of days later, after you’d explained that your mother had set up the little arrangement. Jess had traced the line of your nose. Bent over you, covering your naked body with hers and whispered, want to take you out and show you off. 

It was bittersweet. It could never happen – certainly not in her hometown of Moosejaw, anyhow.

So, she got creative. Got desperate, more like. Started leaving her smokes in your jacket pocket. Her cap in your bedroom. Started depositing little bits of herself in your life, so that others could see that you were hers, and that she was there, and she wasn’t moving a fucking muscle. Gum packets, receipts, her favourite soda that you hated.

“You left these in my room again,” you spit, throwing her smokes at her as you climb into her truck. Jess catches the packet, waiting for you to turn to her in mock impression – like you always did when she showed off her skills – yet you don’t grace her with your eyes.

“You gotta be more careful, Jess,” you tut, glancing out of the window. Face snarled together, frustrated – Jess sees it in the way you wring your hands together. She licks her lips. Tries to be nonchalant about it all, even if her heart is slamming against her chest. She knows. She knows. She knows about my game. “Just say they’re yours.” Your head whips around, and Jess gets a whiff of your perfume. “You think my Mother would let me smoke?” “They’re good for you,” she shrugs, pushing the half-empty packet into her skirt pocket, in front of the new one. This decision of hers to fill you up with her things was getting costly. “I don’t think doing anything as often as you smoke is good for you.” Jess smiles, thinking that there was a flirtatious joke in there somewhere. She doesn’t say it, though. Knows you’re pissed, and it would just deepen the fact. So, she licks her lips and watches you furiously buckle up. Tries to find a response that won’t earn her the silent treatment. “The man on the radio said so,” she counters, and you roll your eyes, looking at her with a disappointed huff. Her face collapses – said the wrong thing. A horrible thing, it seems, as your eyes go cold – busy with a memory. You shake your head at her. “Man on the radio says a lot of things, things my parents listen to – remember?”

She remembers, of course, how could she not? Getting into your house, your parents were in the living room as the buzz of the radio fluttered through the hallway. The pair of you had stood in the foyer, listening to some preacher spread lies and hatred over the airwaves. Just…leaning against the wall, listening, and watching each other. Saying everything that needed to be said, without uttering a word.

“'m sorry,” Jess mumbles. The word is foreign on her lips, but she withstands the taste anyhow. “I didn’t --” she mutters, scrunching her face up and slinging a hand to the wheel. “—didn’t think.” “Yeah, you didn’t,” you quickly spit, and Jess is filled with such regret that she wants to vomit. The truck is silent until the hears the rustle of your jacket as you shrug.

“Besides, my mother would never believe that I smoke Old Golds…Chesterfields, maybe.” You turn to her, fighting a smile. “Old Gold…now that’s an old man cigarette.” She looks at you – relaxing, slightly. Emotions shifted, said your piece. Jess’ face breaks into a slow smile, and when it reaches her ears – as it always manages to do – she shakes her head at you.

“Damn baby, you’re mean.”

Though she decides she’s going to smoke Chesterfields from now on, to avoid suspicion.

[sometimes-they-come-back-237]

This is another one shot I wrote over on Archive of our Own.

It’s another extended scene. Takes place in “Welcome to Heaven”, if Cherri confronted Valentino, too.

“I said fuck off!”, repeated Angel, keeping a protective arm around Niffty. “I may have to put up with your bullshit, but you ain’t fucking with any of my friends!”

Valentino got to his feet. “You forget who you’re talking to?”, he waved his cigarette in front of him as the trail formed a chain with one end attaching itself around Angel’s wrist. “I own you, bitch.”

“That son of a-“, muttered Cherri. She stepped away from the table until she felt a hand on her shoulder. She caught a glimpse of Husk with a look of caution written on his face. He shook his head. Cherri rolled her eye, shoving Husk’s hand away.

Angel took a deep breath. “Yeah, you do, in the studio, and you can do whatever you want to me there, just like our deal says. But out here, I get to do what I want.”

“Didn’t ya hear him, ya multicolored floozy?”, asked Cherri, prodding Valentino on his back. “He told ya to fuck off.”

“Cher, what are you doing?”, asked Angel, both his voice and eyes softening at the sight of her.

Valentino turned his head with a confused expression which briefly turned to one of recognition. He pushed Angel away. “I know you”, he said slyly as he extended one of his lower arms, grabbing Cherri by her wrist and pulling her closer to him. Close enough for her to see her reflection in his glasses.

Angel felt his face getting hot. “Let her go, Val.”

Valentino ignored him. He raised a hand, stroking a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him, “You’re the fiery minx who’s been wrecking my billboards all over town.”

“Aww. Have I struck a nerve, ya fucking pussy?”, she spat out, forcing a smile. She struggled to free herself. Unfazed when Valentino took a puff from his cigarette and blew the crimson smoke in her face. She stifled an urge to cough.

He chuckled. “No”, he turned his head, a malicious smile forming at how pissed Angel was. “But it seems that I have…”

Angel scowled. He was no stranger to the merciless abuse at his boss’s hands. He could take it. What he couldn’t take was the sleazy Overlord having the audacity to lay his filthy hands on Cherri.

Valentino, grabbing a fistful of Cherri’s hair, looked her body over. “You know, if you need a job… I’m always hiring.”

Angel saw red.

Extracting his third set of arms to hold onto Niffty, Angel used his first set to wring the chain in his hands and threw the slack over and around Valentino’s neck. “Motherfucker!”, he yelled, yanking him back, causing him to release Cherri.

Valentino grit his teeth as he used one hand to grab the chain, keeping it off of his neck, allowing him to breathe, and used another to grab Angel by his shirt collar. The chain disappeared.

Before he could even brace himself for the impact, Angel felt a white hot pain as he fell to the floor, pushing Niffty out of harm’s way. He could feel something dripping from his nose and he could see small red drops of blood hitting the floor. A shadow loomed over him.

“Enjoy the rest of your night, bitch, because I’m going to enjoy making you pay for it tomorrow”, said Valentino, returning to the two demons he’d been flirting with.

Cherri glared at him. “Fucking dickhead!”

Angel picked himself up. “Fuck it. It was worth it.”

“Way to go, kid”, said Husk, placing a comforting hand on Angel’s back.

Angel smiled as the four of them walked back to their table.

Cherri nudged his arm, offering a handkerchief she pulled out of Husk’s pocket. “Hey, ya alright, Angie?”

“As good as I can be. You?”, he said, dabbing his nose.

“I’m always alright.”

[monsterthalia]

WIP Whenever

@theluckywizard tagged me to share part of a WIP (thank you!) so this seems as good as time as any to share part of a Dragon Age Inquisition fic I've been noodling away on whilst having Covid.

I don't have a list of people to tag, but if you have a WIP, please consider this your prompt to share it if you wish.

Isidore and Jessamine Trevelyan are twins. Jess is a mage, sent off to the Circle as a child, whilst Iz was promised to the Templars once he came of age - plans that went up in smoke when the Mage/Templar war began. When both end up at the Conclave, it's a reunion neither of them want - nor does it go how they might expect.

---

He grabbed her elbow, not gently, and pulled her away from the crowd. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” she shot back at him, snatching back her elbow and clutching it.

“I asked first!” he snapped, and immediately flushed with embarrassment, even before she rolled her eyes. 

“Real mature, Iz-”

“I’m here as guard for the Ostwick Chantry delegation. Let me guess, you’re here with your rebel chums? Planning to stir up trouble?”

She just flashed a grin, that smug grin she’d had since she was a smug little five-year-old. For a moment, he could see the pigtails. “Doubt they’ll need my help.”

He pressed a hand to his forehead. A sharp pain was already starting up behind his eyes. “Jess - this is serious - it IS,” he added, more firmly, as she just snorted. “The Divine is here-”

She snorted again. “Sure, so she can wring her hands and say how she did all she could before declaring an Exalted March.”

“Only if the mages won’t be reasonable!” he snapped, “They’ve been offered terms over and over-”

“The terms are bullshit and you know it!” she shot back, “Or you would if you weren’t so lost up your own arse. Do you want them to lock me back up in a Circle?”

“That’s - I d- I don’t -” He was struggling for words, for breath, and his heart was racing. Dammit, not now, not now. Words felt impossible, tangling in his tongue. His breaths became tight, lungs clamped in obsidian, and heat flushed across his face even as his clenched fists felt cold. And Jessamine just watched him, aloof and uncaring, her face like he was a nug rolling in its own shit.

“I’m going to save you some trouble,” she sneered, “If your answer wasn’t just ‘Of course not, dear sister’, then I have nothing to say to you. Tell Mother I said hello. Tell Father I said ‘go fuck yourself’.”

She turned on her heel and strode off down the nearest empty corridor. Isidore stared after her, still frozen as he struggled for a clear breath.

“Hey, that area’s off limits!” he heard someone nearby call after her. A Grey Warden? Just their luck if she managed to piss them off as well. 

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll go get her,” he called back, then took off down the corridor after her. He heard the Grey Warden shout something, but ignored it as Jessamine picked up the pace ahead of him, having to break into a run to catch up with her.

He came level with her just as she approached a pair of double doors. “Leave me alone!” she snapped at him, and he was astonished to see that her eyes were actually bright, full of tears.

He didn’t have time to decipher if she was genuinely upset over their encounter or just having a tantrum. He took her elbow again, gentler this time. “Jess, come on, we’re not allowed down here. We need to get back to-”

“I said leave me alone!” she shouted, ripping her elbow from him and shoving open the doors-

And that was the last thing he remembered.

----

[pesterloglog]

Dirk Strider, Jane Crocker

Act 6, page 5821-5838

TT: Is it still going on?

GG: No, it stopped.

TT: What do you think it was?

GG: I don't know. Maybe an earthquake?

TT: I'm not sure if these moons can have earthquakes.

GG: Doesn't matter.

GG: Some sort of Prospitian lunar anomaly, I guess. Probably nothing to worry about.

TT: Maybe it was like, tidal forces. Due to gravitation.

TT: Or the tensile forces from that big ass chain.

GG: Um. Yes! Let's say that's what it was.

TT: Have you and Roxy been talking?

GG: Yes.

TT: Is she pissed at me or something?

TT: She won't talk to me.

GG: No, not at all.

TT: Then what gives.

GG: She was wondering the same about you.

TT: What?

GG: Are you disappointed in her?

TT: Why would I be?

GG: It seemed that way to her earlier.

GG: When you chastised her for drinking again.

TT: Well, yeah. I was upset she fell off the horse.

TT: Or the wagon. The horse wagon. Whatever.

TT: The thing you ride around on when you ain't drinking.

TT: But so what. There was cotton candy in her hair, and she was being stupid. What do you expect? It was a moment of indiscretion.

TT: I'm not mad at her and I'm not disappointed in her. That's ridiculous.

TT: Want to know what I really think of Roxy?

TT: I'm proud of her.

TT: She's the only one of us who could face her problems and then get down to business and actually solve them.

TT: No endless hand wringing or suffering in silence or any of that bullshit.

TT: She saw she had an addiction. And then decided to fucking fix it. Just like that.

TT: She's probably stronger than the other three of us put together.

TT: Remember way back before this started, we were talking. You and me.

TT: And I was rambling at length about leadership, like I actually had a clue what I was talking about?

GG: I remember.

GG: You said I would be the leader of our team, in name and in spirit.

GG: Although I never really felt like it.

TT: Yeah. That's kind of the point.

TT: I guess in a way, I was right. But not how I expected.

TT: See, to be perfectly honest, we are a party of losers.

TT: Heroes make shit happen. But that's not what we do, or what we're even SUPPOSED to do.

TT: We wait.

TT: We wait for literally everything. We wait for other people to reach out first so we can fix our relationships. We wait for these legendary heroes to arrive and bring competence and promise to a futile situation.

TT: Even now. Look at us. What are we waiting for?

TT: To kill ourselves? For someone to come along and do it for us?

TT: It doesn't even matter.

TT: As the four nobles of the void session, we do what we were created to do.

TT: We sit around on our asses.

TT: Waiting.

TT: We were all designated for a session that was utterly inert.

TT: A place where the mechanisms for success never even existed to begin with.

TT: In such a place it makes sense that the formal leader would be neutralized, to made feel unempowered and static.

TT: And it seems particularly fitting she would be the noble of life in a realm of the dead.

TT: A realm that foretold of a life player who felt lifeless, a hope player who felt hopeless, and a heart player who was just a stone cold motherfucker.

TT: When we talked about leadership, and I was all on my high horse telling you how shit would go down...

TT: I also said I would be the one "pulling the strings." Remember? That I'd be the functional leader of our party.

TT: And there might have been something to that, in a different session.

TT: But what good is a "man of action" in a place where action itself is intrinsically fruitless?

TT: So it's occurred to me that by some tragic flaw in its design, our session was meant to be leaderless.

TT: And I'd feel safe concluding that. Except for a feeling that's been gnawing at me.

TT: It's the feeling that it would make perfect sense if a session like this had a dark horse leader.

TT: A leader who was invisible to us all along. Fittingly, a void player to lead a void session.

TT: She would be a leader not in name or in spirit or in function, whatever that means.

TT: But more of an emotional leader, who would selflessly try to hold everyone together while the rest of us did our best to fall apart.

TT: And Roxy has been that for us every step of the way, going unnoticed and unappreciated.

TT: Think of how much shit she's had to put up with from all of us.

TT: She never complains, never turns it around and makes it about her problems.

TT: She just works her ass off making sure we all stay friends.

TT: If that isn't a leader, I don't know what is.

TT: So that's how crazy it is for her to think I'm disappointed in her.

TT: The truth is, she's the most amazing person I ever knew.

TT: She's everything in a human being I wish I could be, but can't because I'm in my own way.

TT: Honestly, I'm not even sure if I'm worthy of dying next to her.

TT: I think she probably felt bad for hitting on me all those years. Like I was getting fed up with her, or something.

TT: But all it really did was make me feel guilty.

TT: That I couldn't give her what she wanted.

TT: Like, settle down and have a couple weirdo goddamn kids with her some day.

TT: I guess there were times I thought about it. Being all alone on Earth with her and stuff.

TT: I couldn't though.

TT: Have to stay true to myself.

TT: Still, she would deserve it.

TT: Nobody deserves to get all the things they always wanted more than she does.

TT: And it suddenly seems kinda stupid that I think these things about her but she doesn't even know it.

TT: I guess I should tell her all this some time.

GG: I think that would be nice.

GG: Of course, she IS right there, you know.

TT: I know.

TT: I'm a little reluctant to drop all that on her.

TT: Looking at what I just said, it's...

TT: Kind of overwhelming?

TT: I feel like in a way you can destroy somebody with effusive praise.

TT: Or maybe I'm just projecting how I would feel about that kind of intense positivity coming at me. I dunno.

TT: But I still think confessions like that can change stuff between people. Like the way they act around each other.

GG: Maybe it's worth it?

TT: Maybe.

TT: Or maybe it's better to just say...

TT: Not so much of it?

TT: Like all at once.

TT: Maybe it'd be better for now if you could pass a short message to her for me.

TT: If only to help kill this awkward silence between us.

GG: Like what?

TT: Could you just tell her,

TT: I love her?

TT: No wait!

TT: I mean.

TT: Not in that way though.

TT: More like...

GG: Dirk, I know what way you mean!

TT: Ok. Good.

TT: Yeah.

TT: No, wait.

TT: Don't.

TT: That would be a weird mixed signal. I mean...

TT: It's true.

TT: But please say something else instead.

GG: Uh, Dirk...

GG: Something's happening.

TT: Tell her that I'm proud of her.

TT: And as a person she's everything I wish I could be.

TT: I wish I could be as nice and loving and selfless as her.

TT: But can't.

TT: Because I'm too busy being me.

GG: Dirk!!!

GG: The tremors are back.

GG: BIG TIME.

TT: That's weird.

TT: I can feel it too this time.

[silvaswiftcast]

FFxivWrite2023 Prompt #9: Fair

Characters: Silva Cataracta, Ricmorn Cataracta, Alisaie Leveilleur, and G'raha Tia

Rating: General

Notes: This scene takes place sometime between Shadowbringers Patch 5.3 and Patch 5.5.

Content Warnings/Additional Tags: Food, Scions being sill Scions.

“Alright— Who did it?”

“Who did what, dear?” Ricmorn asked, not needing to look up to know who the angry Au Ra was before him.

Silva rolled her eyes. “Who ate all the lemon blueberry muffins, that’s who!” she grumbled, resting her hands on her hips. “I literally made two dozen of them this morning, and they’re all gone! I didn’t get to have a single one! That’s bullshit!”

She spent nearly two bells early that morning making the sweet treats from scratch for everyone currently residing at the Rising Stones to share. Did she expect them to last the entire day? No. She would have been shocked if they did. Did she expect them to at least make it until early afternoon? Absolutely.

And now she was pissed.

A heavy sigh escaped the white mage, resting the tome he was reading on the bar counter and pressing her fingers into his temples to soothe the oncoming headache. “Alisaie! G’raha!” he shouted for their fellow Scions. “Get out here!”

The sound of two sets of quick footsteps echoed off the stone walls as they appeared, worried expression painting their features.

“What’s wrong?” Alisaie wonder, reaching for her rapier. “Trouble? Is there a mission for us to go on? I’m up for kicking some—”

The scarlet-haired Miqo’te frowned, his ears twitching. “I’m sure if trouble had been reported, Silva and Ricmorn would look more serious than they are right now, my friend.”

Alisaie thought about it for a moment before relaxing. “Ah— Right. So what is it, then?”

Silva opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Ricmorn. “Which of you ate all the muffins Silva made this morning?” He turned to face them, scowling. “And be honest — I won’t spare you her wraith if you do not give me the truth.”

The other Scions blinked at the question. It wasn’t until Ricmorn narrowed his eyes that G’raha started to squirm in place, wringing his hands as his fluffy tail and ears quivered. Alisaie, on the other hand, stood her ground, hands on her hips as she glared right back at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking—”

“Alisaie did it!”

The young Elezen gasped. “Really!? You’re going to sell me out like that!?” she shouted, yanking on his short sleeve. “I thought we were a team, G’raha!”

“Yes!” He pulled his arm away from her, ears pinned back. “I just got back into Silva’s good graces, and I refuse to do anything to jeopardize that!”

“You ate like four of them! You’re not innocent in this either!”

“I was just about to say that—”

“Enough!” Silva growled, her long ivory tail swishing in anger.

Silence fell over the parties at fault, unable to meet the dancer’s heated gaze.

She let out an exhausted sigh, carding a hand through her short purple and magenta waves. “Anything that I make snack-wise is off limits to the both of you for two weeks,” she told them, crossing her arms. “If you want something, either buy it or make it yourself. Is that clear?”

Alisaie pouted. “That’s not fair, Silva.”

“Life isn’t fair, Alisaie,” she countered. “Time for you to learn how to do some things on your own. I won’t be around forever.”

[fortheloveoffinnickodair]

call me psycho

summary: y/n is tired of everyone calling bucky crazy

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 1.4k

warning: swearing, mentions of bucky’s trauma

a/n: okay so the whole time i was watching TFATWS i lowkey hated the amount of times characters would call bucky crazy, or psychotic, etc. even as a joke. i didn’t like it and it felt somewhat victim blamey so here’s this fic as my outlet. idk i like the jokes like “cyborg” and shit but the ones i included in here i thought were too far

masterlist | send requests

“So, who would like to start?” Dr. Raynor asked as she slammed her notebook open on the table. The tension in the room was palpable. Sam and Bucky were seated at the table across from Raynor, with you standing behind Bucky. She’d said the session was for the two of them to work out their differences, but you were fine to join if you thought it would help Bucky open up. She didn’t know him well enough if she thought he was about to spill all his inner turmoil to Sam in an hour simply because you had a hand on his shoulder.

“All right, look, Dr. Raynor?” Sam started, breaking the silence. You turned to listen to him attentively, hoping he’d try to take the session seriously. You stood with your arms around Bucky’s shoulders, your left hand rubbing gently into the line where flesh met metal, trying to help him stay calm. “I get it, why you want me to talk to Freaky Magoo over here. But I’m 100% fine.”

Sam’s words took you back. He’d always made teasing nicknames for Bucky, he did it for everyone he knew. He’d even said a few earlier. You’d never heard him say something like that. A name playing on his psyche. It caused your stomach to turn. You knew Bucky was unsure of his mental state, always afraid he’d relapse back into him. It took you so long to help convince him just a bit that he was not broken, that he wasn’t crazy for the torture he endured. To hear Sam joking about it now, you were pissed. 

The conversation carried on, you pocketing your anger for a later day. That wasn’t the time to say something, especially when the two men were butting heads already. Tensions were high between the two, they didn’t need you to make it worse. You’d forget it, it was probably just a one-time thing, right?

-

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call. But after the blip and the chaos, I-” Sam started, grabbing a shirt from the wardrobe across the room.

“Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right?” Sharon asked, cutting him off. 

The night was somewhat of a bust. Though you’d gathered the intel you needed, it came at a cost. One that almost cost everyone their lives, and for Bucky to return to a dark place in the back of his mind. He’d been quiet since you got in Sharon’s car. The only sign he was still in there was his firm grip on your thigh in the back seat. You’d managed to work your hand around his stiff shoulders, pulling him as close as he’d allow. By the time you’d arrived at Sharon’s, you’d finally gotten him to open up. Though it was only short sentences as you helped him out of the gear and into new clothes, it was something. He was coming back to you and that was all that mattered. 

“The way you gave up that shield, deep down you must know. It’s all hypocrisy,” Sharon continued. You listened with a sharp ear as you sat beside Bucky on the couch, watching him wring his hands in his lap while one of yours carded through the back of his hair. 

“He knows, and not so deep down,” Zemo chimed in. God, you fucking hated him.

“By the way, how is the new Cap?” Sharon asked. You felt Bucky tense in your grasp before he spoke up.

“Don’t get me started,” he said, his head turning away to look at you. You could hear the exhaustion in his voice. You gave him a soft smile, to which he leaned further into your touch.

“Oh please!” Sharon scoffed, making her way over to you. “You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit!” You rolled your eyes at her remark. She had no right to talk about his history with Steve, the shield, or Captain America. Not with everything he’d been through

“Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America- Cap’s best friend!” she said, taking a seat beside you on the couch. 

Your head turned to her so fast, it was a shock you hadn’t gotten whiplash. Her words rang in your head, banging inside against your skull. She sat there smug with a smile as if what she’d said held no weight to her at all; it didn’t. You were fuming.

Turning to Bucky in shock, you could see he knew what you were thinking in your eyes. He saw the rage, frustration, and bewilderment. He understood your feelings, he was hurt too. He’d mastered the art of hiding his feelings so deep down, others seemed to think he didn’t have any. But not you, never you. He knew you could tell he was bothered by her words. And he knew you were going to say something.

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked, whipping your head back. Sharon cocked a smile your way, stunned by the anger on your face. Before you could reem into her, a firm squeeze on your thigh brought you out of it. Bucky’s hand gently moved, rubbing across your knee. Looking over, you watched as he swallowed hard, clearly uncomfortable. You bit your tongue.

-

Good to your word, you kept quiet as Sam bargained with Sharon. You sat and contained yourself, playing with Bucky’s hands trying to calm back down. He smiled as he watched you trace the gold detailing along his palm, something you often did when your emotions overwhelmed you. You’d almost forgotten your anger from earlier as you listened in on the conversation at hand.

“Okay, maybe it is hypocrisy. Maybe you’re right,” Sam said, getting up from his seat and making his way to Sharon. “What happened to you. But I’m willing to try if you are.”

The room fell silent for a moment as Sharon contemplated Sam’s offer. You leaned back into Bucky’s shoulder as you welcomed the silence. For one moment, everything was calm.

“They cleared the bionic staring machine, and he killed almost everybody he’s met,” Sam said, gesturing back at Bucky.

That was the last straw. Bucky cringed as you ripped yourself from his arms, leaping from the couch.

“Okay, what the fuck is wrong with you all?” you said, staring stunned at Sam. The room was quiet as Sharon, Sam, and Zemo stared back at you.

“Y/N, what-” Sam said, but you cut him off.

“Why the hell are you all talking about him like that?” you asked, your anger overflowing through your words. “Why are you calling him a psychopath and acting like he’s crazy?”

You were practically shaking as you continued.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about! You can’t even imagine what he’s gone through, what he’s had to endure! And you have the fucking nerve to joke about it?” You shouted, any calm you may have had gone.

Sam was speechless, staring back at you unsure of what to say. Sharon simply stared down at her shoes, waiting for the interaction to end. Before you could say anything else, you felt the familiar cool of vibranium on your waist. Bucky’s low voice whispered in your ear ‘come on’, before leading you out of the room. You stumbled before him as he led you to the door, but not without throwing a quick ‘how dare you!’ back over your shoulder for good measure.

Once in the hallway, you prepared yourself for the lecture you could feel coming. You knew he didn’t want you to cause a scene, yet you did anyway. Maybe you were wrong? No, you needed to say something. Needed to stop the hurtful words being thrown at the man you loved like they were just cheap jokes. You’d say that to him, that you’d defend him over and over again until your voice wore out.

You prepared yourself for an argument when you suddenly felt Bucky pulling you close to his chest. His arms wrapped tight around you, grasping at your shoulders as if you were his lifeline. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, shaking as he held you. Desperate to be close to his girl.

“Thank you,” he breathed out, his voice cracking slightly. A deep sigh slipped from your chest as you held him close, finally calming down. 

“I won’t let anyone talk about you like that, sweet boy,” you said, running a hand through his hair. 

“I love you, doll.”

“I love you, too.”

---

taglist:

@britos11​ @baby-banana​

[rainbowsky]

OK to everyone who's writing me shipping DD with Kyoka - and I mean this with all due respect - please piss off.

This is heteronormative bullshit that I don't need in my inbox.

People can have dozens and dozens of big pieces of evidence of GGDD put in front of them on a silver platter and still they hmm and haw, and then DD so much as glances at a woman and suddenly all the turtles who've been hand-wringing over SZD for months wonder if DD is into a woman.

It's dipping your toe in anti behavior, frankly. We're all turtles here. This is a GGDD blog. If you want to ship other people, do it somewhere else. Go hang out with the solos, they gobble every straight ship up with both hands.

Besides, everything I've heard says that Kyoka is gay too.

DD is a dancer who takes his craft very seriously. When he sees a dancer whose work he admires, he expresses it, often very effusively. People need to take their het glasses off and look at the world for what it really is. Or else go ship it elsewhere.

Honestly... 🤦🏼‍♂️🤦🏼‍♂️🤦🏼‍♂️

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

It’s a different kind of fear, the cold prickles that settle deep into the lining of each of Robin’s organs. The world throbs around her like an echo, and her head aches — her whole body aches. Beaten and sore from all of the bullshit, all of the running around and fighting, and she’s tired. So tired.

But none of that matters. Not when that familiar chill fills the air and a sickly dread sucks the air out of her lungs.

Not when it’s Steve.

For a while now, all memory of the asshole she knew back in Click’s class has been forgotten. Pushed aside. Gathering dust. Replaced entirely by the goofy, snarky guy with piss-poor flirting skills that she’s grown to love. Because it’s just so easy to love him.

The dark, looming figure before her, standing at the back door to Hell itself with an axe clutched tight in his fist, is not either of those guys.

She didn’t think that Steve’s face could look so angry. So hateful.

“Stevie,” Billy tries, raising his hands slowly and reaching out. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“What the fuck’s wrong with him?” Eddie breathes.

Clutches a hand over his abdomen, crimson seeping between each of his fingers and dripping down his chin. It’s staining Robin’s clothes from where she’s tucked under his arm, supporting his weight, but she ignores it. Watches carefully as Steve stands to his full height and steps off of the mattress with a creak.

“It’s the Mind-Flayer,” Robin manages. Takes a careful step back towards the door. “It has to be, right?”

“Steve, you have to fight it, do you hear me?” Billy says.

He dares to step closer. Extends his hands further, disregarding the rapid rise and fall of the brunet’s chest and the tightness of his jaw.

Even next to Billy, Steve suddenly seems to tower over everything. Suddenly seems so scary that Robin has to force herself to keep her eyes on him as they well with tears.

With a quick motion, he rears the axe back and takes a deadly swing, the handle catching in Billy’s grip with a painful thunk.

“Please, Steve—“

A left hook cracks across Billy’s jaw and sends him crashing to the floor.

“You think your pathetic ass stands a chance, Hargrove?” Steve hisses. Plunges the axe down and misses when Billy rolls out of the way, splitting the tile and letting go of the handle once and for all. “All of the pity fucks have really been going to your head, huh?”

He steps over the blond. Takes a fistful of his shirt and brings his knuckles down hard on the bridge of his nose. Snaps the cartilage and makes Robin sick to her stomach.

“Don’t listen, Bill,” Eddie rasps. “That’s not him.”

“Get out of here,” Billy pleads.

Catches another sock to the face and spits a mixture of blood and bile onto the floor.

“No.”

“We can’t leave you,” Robin protests.

“Get the fuck out and go find Nancy. Now.”

One more crack rips through the air and Robin has to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from vomiting, turning her face away from the gruesome display in front of her. It takes Eddie pulling her towards the doorway to make her head stop spinning.

“They always leave in the end, don’t they?” Steve muses. “Don’t worry, Billy bug, you still have me.”

He catches the fist that Billy tries to swing at him and drops to his knees, right over Billy’s chest, and pins his arms to the floor with an unforgiving grip.

“Fuck you.”

“Mm, I think I’ll pass. You’re not really my type.”

“I swear, when I get my hands around that slimy, disgusting neck of yours, I’m gonna wring it ‘till your fuckin’ eyes pop.”

The sickly smirk that splits across Steve’s face is almost inhuman. He leans down. Collects both of Billy’s wrists in one hand, pins them above his head, and lightly traces the cut of his jaw with his free hand. Almost lovingly.

Thunder roars in the distance. Billy can faintly hear the screeches coming from within the gate just a few feet away, and something else. Behind him.

The scrape of gravel and screaming voices — Dustin and Erica. All of the words are muddled in the background. Unintelligible.

“Y’know something, love?” Steve coos. So close that the cold puff of air on Billy’s cheek spawns goosebumps on his skin. “I still love Nance.”

“Bullshit.”

A hand wraps around his throat and he chokes as his windpipe is smashed between the tile and Steve’s unnaturally cold palm.

“It’s true. You’re nothing but a rebound that never got the hint to get out of my bed the morning after.”

“No,” Billy rasps. “You— you love me. You love Eddie. You say it so much that I almost get sick of hearing it, Stevie.”

“Y’know, now that you mention it…” The grip tightens around his throat. Makes Billy’s eyes burn as Steve’s lips brush against his ear. “Eddie’s my favorite. He at least has a purpose in this world, but you?” Fire spreads in his throat as he writhes helplessly. “Your only purpose is to die.”

“Steve— Steve would never say that.”

“Die believing a lie if you want, Hargrove. Save Eddie a spot, will you? I’ll be coming for him next.”

Black starts to overtake his vision, tunneling around the sadistic grin that looms over him. It’s funny because Billy still can’t help but think that Steve is beautiful. That he’ll be glad to see him soon, wherever he goes next. The real him.

There’s a click, and then a boom, and Billy’s lungs fill again.

Steve has fallen back. Clutches at his shoulder weakly, blood spurting between his fingers as he fixes a glare at the door.

Standing in the open doorway is Nancy Wheeler, revolver in her grip. The look on her face says that was a warning shot.

“You’re an idiot if you think we’ll let that asshole take you, Steve.” She pulls the hammer back with a click. Sets her jaw and furrows her brows. “Now come back to us.”

[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

“You’ve been on edge all day. I was worried about you.” taakitz??

From this post! (Still accepting prompts!)

-

Kravitz sits on the porch, gazing at the stars, feeling the cool breeze graze over him. It’s late, he knows. He should just go back to bed but he’s felt like a caged tiger for most of the day. It’s not the most satisfying solution, but he’s decided that sitting in the moonlight and shedding his construct for a while might help him feel more normal, calmer.

“Hey, Skeletor,” a quiet voice says behind him.

Kravitz startles for a moment; all these years and he still hasn’t gotten used to Taako moving around the house like a ghost. He turns and gives a half-hearted, all-bone smile. He sees that Taako’s carrying a small pint of ice cream in one hand and two spoons in the other.

Taako wordlessly walks over to Kravitz and hands him a spoon before sitting down beside him on the bench and pressing into his side.

“You didn’t come back to bed,” Taako peels the lid off the pint and digs a big spoonful out before holding it out to Kravitz. It’s the fancy vanilla that Kravitz loves even though Taako calls it boring.

“I couldn’t relax. Besides, I don’t need to sleep.” Kravitz scoops out a bite, smiling at the flavor.

“I don’t either, Krav. But I like doing it. I especially like doing it next to my husband.” Taako taps the spoon against his teeth, cringing a little at the noise before he stops.

Kravitz lets out a small sigh that gets carried off on the breeze. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. But are we okay?” Taako’s voice is small and uncertain.

Kravitz snaps his head to look at him. “Of course we are, my love, what makes you think otherwise?”

Taako gives a weak smile and shrugs. “I dunno. You were acting really weird when you got back today. You’ve been on edge all day. I was worried about you. Worried that maybe I did something wrong.”

Kravitz reaches over and takes the ice cream from Taako, setting it on the ground and jamming the spoons in the barely touched surface. He wills his construct to contain the bones in his hands before taking Taako’s hands in his own. “Now I think I’m justified in being sorry,” he squeezes Taako’s hands gently before continuing. “This was just a particularly hard day at work. That’s all. I’m normally good about not bringing it home but…” he shakes his head, declining to finish his thought.

“Can I ask what happened? Because Lup didn’t mention anything beside some punk ass necromancer pissing his pants when he figured out that not only was he being visited by an emissary of the Raven Queen, but that it was one of the literal saviors of the planarverse.”

The ghost of a laugh leaks out of Kravitz’s mouth. “I just had a…disagreement with My Lady and she thoroughly tore into me. Verbally, that is.”

Taako furrows his brow and frowns. “You fought with RQ?”

Kravitz nods meekly. He’s not proud of it, not by any means. In all the centuries he’s been working for her, they’ve barely so much as squabbled over anything. But today was unprecedented.

“About what?”

“Um. The fate of someone who I can’t exactly be neutral about.” Kravitz hopes that Taako won’t press further on the subject.

“Who?”

Shit. Kravitz should know better. “I really shouldn’t say.”

A stern look of determination settles on Taako’s face. “Is it Angus? Because I’m gonna call bullshit, he’s still young as far as humans go. And I’ll off myself to go to the Astral Plane and have a talking to with her –“

“It’s not Angus, love.” Kravitz interrupts. “And it’s not Merle or Davenport or Ren or anyone like that.”

Taako visibly relaxes before looking even more confused. “Wait, then who the hell is worth fighting a literal goddess over?”

“Someone whose neck I’ve been looking forward to wringing since I heard about him.” Kravitz says bluntly.

Taako blanches and looks like he might be the next one on a one-way trip to the sea of souls. “You don’t mean –“

“I do. He’s due into the Astral Plane sometime this week and My Lady won’t let me take him myself. Said she’s going to outsource it since apparently she doesn’t trust me to, quote, ‘Uphold the decorum expected of emissaries working on behalf of the Raven Queen,’ end quote.” Kravitz scowls and looks back at the sky, remembering how much he felt like a child being reprimanded for misbehaving in church.

“Good.”

“I’m sorry?” Kravitz turns back to look at Taako, who’s leaning across Kravitz’s lap to retrieve the abandoned ice cream. It’s only gone a little soft, luckily.

“Good,” Taako repeats through a mouthful of vanilla bean ice cream. “Listen, I do appreciate this idea you have about defending my honor and everything, really. But… I dunno. I still get sick thinking about him and about what happened and what I thought happened but it all just feels so small now.” He shrugs and thinks for a minute. “’Cuz here’s the thing. Painfully ripping his soul out of his body would be pretty choice, but it doesn’t change anything. He did what he did. He tried to kill me, actually killed forty people, and let me take the fall for it. And before this week is up, he’s going to be dead. Circle of life and all that shit.”

Kravitz blinks in surprise. “Wow. Can’t say I was expecting you to be so cavalier about this.”

“Guess cha’boy’s matured in the last forty or so years.”

Silence settles over the pair as they dig into the ice cream between them. The wind nips a bit at Taako’s ears but he doesn’t say anything about it.

“My Lady did agree with one recommendation of mine, though.”

“Oh yeah?”

Kravitz nods and a wolfish grin climbs onto his still-calcified face. “He is going to be spending about forty years in the Stockade. Didn’t commit any death crimes, but a mass murder does warrant some retribution in the afterlife.”

“Well, let me just say, if you’re looking to really make him suffer, I do have neighbor recommendations. There’s this drow I think he’d just despise.” Taako leans his head on Kravitz’s shoulder.

Kravitz supposes that his plan worked; a short stay on the porch has calmed him down immensely.

[dunkzillla]

"When was I meant to find out? When it was too late?!" Mox/Bryan 👀

oh goodness. this. i should have known those prompts would hurt me. this follows on from this piece, because it fits too well.

when was I meant to find out? mox/bryan, implied bcc poly

It wasn’t good news in the docs room after the Anarchy in the Arena match. He wasn’t going to be cleared for a couple of weeks, but Bryan knew that ‘a couple of weeks’ was the good estimation, and most likely, he’d be out for a lot longer.

Which is why when two weeks go by, and he goes for his check up and the doc tells him he’s not cleared for Forbidden Door or Blood and Guts, he doesn’t say anything to anyone for a couple of days, then he tells Regal and Yuta. He tells them not to tell Mox.

It’s not that he’s going to ignore the doctors orders, or that he thinks he’ll be mad or anything, just — Mox was so, so sure he’d be okay by Forbidden Door, and Blood and Guts, that they’d get to keep doing what they love together (beating people bloody and senseless), and he can’t bring himself to tell him. He knows it’s wrong, Regal tells him it’s wrong when he tells him, and Yuta just gives him a ‘okay, on your head be it’ and a kiss on the cheek when he tells him. Mox is going to be mad, he knows, but he’s been practically buzzing around for the last few weeks since getting the news that he’d have a match for the interim title. Bryan doesn’t want him to lose it a moment too soon.

So it’s not surprising that, when Bryan comes back into the locker room after announcing he wouldn’t be cleared to compete at either event and a replacement would be announced, Mox is sat tapping his foot and wringing his hands staring at the door blankly.

“Jon…”

“Don’t you fucking ‘Jon’ me, Bry. When was I meant to find out? When it was too fucking late along with all the other schmucks in the audience? Fuckin’ wonderful, Bry, thanks, makes me feel real special!” He spits, and he actually spits, it trails down his chin as he gets up, fizzing with energy like he’s going to explode. “You told Regal, and you told Yuta, but you didn’t fucking tell me!”

Bryan sighs, feeling like the piece of shit he is. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to get upset or be worried—“

“Am I not upset now? Am I not fucking worried?” Mox turns to him and snarls the words, hands going up into his hair, and then, in true Mox fashion, he reaches down to take the chair between his hands and launches it at the wall. It clatters and clangs and rattles around him.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re a fucking piece of shit. How could you not tell me you’re not cleared? That you’re not fucking okay, Bryan? You think I don’t want to know that shit?” Mox kicks the locker, hands thrown up in the air for emphasis and Bryan shakes his head. He doesn’t know what he can say to him. What’s going to make him feel better.

“We’ve been having so much fun. I didn’t — you’re getting a title match. I didn’t want to put a damper on that by telling you that I couldn’t fight. You wanted to do blood and guts with me so bad.”

“Yeah I did, but what did you think I was gonna’ do if you told me you couldn’t do it? That I’d be pissed? Fuck you.” He points a finger at him, and it feels like a stab to the heart. Whenever Mox is mad at him it’s usually about trivial things, or they’re posturing, alpha to alpha and it means nothing, they brush it off within a day. This. This doesn’t feel like brush it off in a day type fighting.

“Jon. I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

“We’ll always have IT you fuckin- Jesus Christ. You think cos you’re injured for a couple a weeks or months what we got going on right now ends? Think cos you’re gone it all falls apart? Bullshit Bryan. We didn’t bleed and have the old man slap us in front of thousands of people, and do the same to the kid only for it to crumble cos what? You’re not gonna wrestle two events? That’s thinking real fucking highly of yourself.” Mox laughs, but it’s devoid of any humour, and there’s a vicious tug on his lip.

“I’m sorry. Jon, listen I —“

“Save it. Fucking save it.” Mox kicks the locker again, it’s loud and makes Bryan wince. He pushes past him out of the room, and Bryan dips his head in shame.

A minute or so passes before Bryan feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Give him time petal. He’ll come around.”

Bryan looks up at Regal. The man’s got a soft, sad smile on his face. But he knows. He knows that Regal doesn’t really believe the words he’s saying.

“Yeah,” He says softly, guilt lacing his words like a thick caramel. “Hopefully.”

[fandomfluffandfuck]

U said a few days ago that u love hurt comfort and I have a prompt for u!! Subby Bucky being touch starved and less sure of himself in a relationship with a big dom Steve. And maybe it’s cause Buckys insecure, and maybe it’s cause he was treated like crap for wanting basic affection in past relationships, but whatever it is, he’s always too scared to ask for what he wants with Steve for the first few weeks of dating. Did Steve kinda catch on? Sure, but he thought it was because Bucky was just shy or wasn’t that into physical touch, but man was he wrong about that.

It all comes to a head when they’re at a party of a mutual friend and Buckys a little tipsy, the poor bb deserves to enjoy himself and let loose, and of course Steve watches over him and is gonna let him sleep over so he can be safe at the end of the night. So when they’re going back to Steve’s place, he’s trying to help Bucky balance and Buckys pushing away cause even if he’s tipsy he doesn’t wanna be needy on top of it. He keeps mumbling about “good, I’m good, not needy, can walk on my own Steven” playfully but now Steve’s confused? Bucky wasn’t being needy, Bucky hardly ever brings up anything in their relationship til Steve does first, where the hell did he get the impression that he’s too needy?

He gets Bucky settled in bed but doesn’t stop thinking about it, brings it up as soon as Buckys awake enough to talk it through. And Bucky just keeps shrinking in on himself as Steve’s asking what’s wrong, what did he do to make Bucky think he’s needy or annoying?? Poor bb starts crying a little and saying that he didn’t mean to say all that last night, he just knew from past “experiences” that he could be clingy and too much and he didn’t wanna scare Steve off. Which (1) pisses Steve off cause this man is an angel and whoever hurt him obviously didn’t deserve him, and (2) all he wants is for his bb to feel okay and comfortable in this relationship, and who the hell wouldn’t want more cuddles from Bucky?? He explains this all to Bucky, and Bucky says he’ll take some time to think about it (mainly cause he’s still a little overwhelmed and is sure that Steve is too good to be true). But Steve thinks he must’ve done something right if Bucky comes to him about an hour later, hands wringing themselves obviously worried, and asks if he can just be held? And who is Steve to not sit all day with his baby holding him, letting all that tension melt out of him?

- ur very soft 💕 anon

still going through my old asks- my requests are currently closed

Oooh hello, yes, this gives me older!Steve and younger!Bucky vibes.

Not shrunkyclunks but more just a modern AU Steve and Bucky. Because additionally, if Steve is a distinguished daddy than perhaps that fuels Bucky's poor fire even more, y’know? Perhaps he's grown up around the boys don't cry and can't be weak in any way, shape, or form bullshit idea and he expects that Steve probably, to some extent, agrees with that because he's a little older. Enough have grown up hearing it even more than Bucky. So, Bucky's scared on that level too, to let Steve see his true colors of touch being his love language and what he craves.

But beyond that-?

The rest of your set up? Y E S ->

Bucky being unable to ask for what he wants because he didn't grow up being able to and then only had flings from college onward. Flings where boyfriends were kinda flakey and... not the best with delicate emotional things like this.

And yes, I so, so could see Steve just mistakenly thinking that Bucky isn't into touch. No biggie, Steve would assume, it's just not his thing, and he would dial back his own touchy-ness while still touching the other man some because it's not that Bucky winces or pushes him away. Never. In fact, sometimes Steve swears he feels Bucky lean into his touch, albeit very lightly... Bucky just doesn't reach out to touch Steve himself. So... alright. He doesn't think all that much of it right away.

The turning point though, yes: new to this relationship, Steve and Bucky, but not new enough that they're not showing off the fact that they're an item, hence the party-going. And going together. Bucky gets a little toasty (perhaps a little more toast than he planned on accident either because he doesn't drink often or is simply a lightweight), so Steve ends up taking him home as they discussed. So he doesn't throw up or pass out or anything bad for him while alone. And, plus, Steve offered. Wanting to take care of him.

"...when they’re going back to Steve’s place, he’s trying to help Bucky balance and Buckys pushing away cause even if he’s tipsy he doesn’t wanna be needy on top of it. He keeps mumbling about “good, I’m good, not needy, can walk on my own Steven” playfully but now Steve’s confused? Bucky wasn’t being needy, Bucky hardly ever brings up anything in their relationship til Steve does first, where the hell did he get the impression that he’s too needy?"

Yeah, poor Steve, he'd probably toss and turn all night if he sleeps at all. Thinking about what his baby said. Analyzing everything he's ever said to Bucky because he's the exact opposite of needy - not that that's a bad thing in the first place - he gets a little too independent sometimes, not relying on anyone and then getting Stressed and Overworking himself.

So, of course they have to have that chat later in the morning... Steve cannot have Bucky thinking he thinks of his affection that way.

Post pain-killers for the lingering headache of a hangover, gallon chug of water, and teeth brushing to get rid of the stale sleep flavor- they're both sitting on the couch, Saturday morning cartoons playing, Steve sort of in the middle and Bucky tucked into the side of the couch. A burrito of blankets. Steve asks him about it-

Not phrasing too aggressively or like Bucky HAS to tell him why he feels that way but just apologizing for not making sure he didn't feel that way. For not showing him clearer how much he loves being around him, how not annoying he is.

And, yeah, yeah, unfortunately, that's just what Bucky would do. He'd draw in on himself, shrink down, and get his voice real small. Shake his head a lot, without actual words. Or short little words, saying "yes" or "no" and that's it. Until... yeah, Steve would want to go on, apologizing again, and then...

Then he'd burst out into tears.

Instantly, Steve would reach out for him. Hand on the back but nothing more because he doesn't know what he needs, what he wants.

Steve knows what he wants when Bucky turns into the touch i m m e d i a t e l y . A whimper on the tip of his tongue, eyes brimming with tears but looking down, not feeling strong enough to meet his eyes and see what he fears might be there. Steve just says, "oh, baby," all quiet and pulls him into his chest. Rocking them a little on instinct.

It's there where Bucky chokes and admits yeah "he just knew from past “experiences” that he could be clingy and too much and he didn’t wanna scare Steve off." mumbling the mess of words, deeply emotionally charged, against his chest, shaking from how good it feels just to be held. Just a little. Steve's all draped around him and he's not even really touching him... his big hands are on him through the blankets he's wrapped in. But it stills feels so good.

Naturally then, the conversation fizzles out. Steve has to contain himself from ranting about how those people that made him feel that way are SUCH ASSHOLES, thinking instead of saying for fear of scaring Bucky off with his passion whilst he's in such an emotional state. The conversation dies especially when the doorbell rings, their greasy, post-night-of-drinking food arriving finally.

Which Steve gets up to retrieve and bring back down, smiling and getting teary-eyed himself when Bucky looks at him and looks down next to him. Mumbling what might be a "thank you" when Steve comes to sit down next to him. No space between them, sides and thighs touching.

"'Course," Steve says, soft, kissing the top of his head. Heart aching for Bucky when he makes the sweetest, softest, surprised little sound. "And, y’know," Steve reminds him, "any time, any place, sweetheart. Whatever you want, a hug, kiss, anything. 'M here, alright?"

"Alright."

And Y E S ! ! ! -

"But Steve thinks he must’ve done something right if Bucky comes to him about an hour later, hands wringing themselves obviously worried, and asks if he can just be held? And who is Steve to not sit all day with his baby holding him, letting all that tension melt out of him?"

My heart. Yep.

It takes some work but, yeah, they get there. Bucky asking for what he needs and Steve living for every moment of it. Soaking in his baby's comfort with him as well as his body heat from staying so close.

Thank you for the ask!!

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 296: Ngl, This One Pissed Me Off

Previously on BnHA: Deku was all, “p.s. I actually activated yet another quirk several chapters ago when Kacchan got stabbed.” Compress was all, “[gets captured and passes out].” Spinner was all “[rifles through Tomura’s pockets and slaps a random Charbroiled Hand onto his friend’s unconscious face].” Tomura was all, “SOMEHOW THAT ACTUALLY WORKED” and woke up again, except it wasn’t really him, it was everyone’s favorite Final Villain, AFO. AFO was all, “time to escape finally” and summoned a bunch of Noumu and Absconded with Spinner and the DabiMarble in tow. Skeptic was all, “Horikoshi forgot I existed, but I’m actually Absconding in marble-form as well.” Deku was all, “ATTENTION WORLD, I WOULD LIKE TO ANNOUNCE THAT I OFFICIALLY WANT TO SAVE SHIGARAKI TOMURA.” And then the arc just sort of ended lol.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all, “but when you think about it, do we really need literally any female teachers at U.A. at all?” and for whatever reason doesn’t stop to wait for an answer. Midnight, who absolutely did not need to die, Dies, and I’m pissed about it. Ochako wanders the ruins of Jakku for what feels like hours, rescuing small children while her adult hero compatriots fall to pieces around her, because apparently the U.A. kids really are the only people who have their shit together. The citizens of Japan are all “damn that’s wild, wonder how fucked we are now,” but are actually super casual and chill about it which is oddly realistic. The chapter ends with AFO in Tartarus being all “lol time for the prison break arc,” without giving us so much as a chance to catch our breath, like holy shit. Are we on the clock or something now, goddamn.

lmao it’s like 7pm on a Sunday night and this is out already. this is like the worst possible timing lol. there goes my nice, relaxed evening. unless of course this turns out to be a nice, restful, soothing chapter, as chapters coming on the heels of traumatic, earth-shattering battles so often are. yeah, break out the Pina Colada song and the little drink umbrellas, I got a good feeling about this one

(ETA: I mean, I was obviously being sarcastic here but damn, Horikoshi.)

-- fff why did I laugh

it’s the crumbling city ruins in the background that really does it, I think. JUST LOOK AT THIS MESS THAT YOU HAVE MADE, EVERYONE. FOR SHAME

also, the title is dramatic af and I am so fucking excited you guys, like holy shit. BnHA’s In-Between arcs have always been my favorite part of the series, because it’s when all the character development and angst and/or catharsis happens. just, those little breathing spaces in between the action when everyone gathers to recuperate and compartmentalize their fresh new traumas lmao. bring on that angst!! but also, let’s please have some Comfort to offset all of this Hurt too, please and thanks

blah blah blah so the survivors were evacuated, good good, can you actually show us though?

AHHHHHHH

PIXIE BOB SURVIVED!!!! WASH IS STILL ALIVE LMAO HOW. THIRTEEN’S FACE, OMG SHOULD I LOOK AWAY. IS IT LIKE MANDALORIAN RULES. IDK HOW IT WORKS

HOW THE FUCK ARE THEY ALIVE. LOLS ANYWAY I’M HERE FOR IT. FEEL FREE NOT TO KILL ANYONE ELSE HERE HORIKOSHI, I THINK WE’RE GOOD

(ETA: it’s like talking to a brick wall.)

oh my god do we really need exposition about how the heroes tried to stop TomurAFO from escaping and OF COURSE failed completely because they suck lmao. oh my god I am shocked, that is such shocking news

wow they only managed to defeat three of the Noumus. holy shit. again, all of the Not-Kid Heroes are only slightly more useful than cardboard cutouts of heroes at this point, MORE AT ELEVEN

so Tomura may have lost the PLF, but he still more or less has an army then, huh. I really don’t know how anyone could expect a timeskip with that threat looming over everyone’s heads

oh nvm lol there are only seven Noumus left. wait so you’re telling me there were only ten Nearly High Ends in that last chapter?? felt more like fifty but whatever lol I’ll take your word for it

COMPRESS YAY YOU’RE ALIVE TOO

MAYBE THEY CAN EVEN REATTACH HIS ASS. I’M SERIOUS LOL, BECAUSE HE STILL HAS IT, DOESN’T HE? OR IF NOT, THEY CAN REBUILD HIM WITH A PROSTHETIC ASS. he’ll be more powerful than ever

WHAAAAAAT YEAH BOIIIII

WOOO, EDGESHOT, WOOOOO. THAT’S HIS WAY OF THE NINJA

YEAHHHHH SUCK IT, PLF

(ETA: for the record I don’t think Cementoss is dead here, just badly wounded. if he had died he would have been included in the forthcoming In Memoriam page along with the others.)

GET BENT LOL. TRUMPET I FOR REAL FORGOT YOU EVEN EXISTED. I NEVER WANT TO SEE ANY OF YOU LOSERS AGAIN PLEASE. ONLY INTERESTING CHARACTERS MAY PROCEED PAST THIS POINT

dsflksaldkh;l

that’s... holy shit. that’s a bigass mansion, that’s what that is. also so does this mean there are still eighty thousand PLF members still at large, because that’s a plot line I very much do not care about in any way whatsoever lol. can’t we just retcon to say that Re-Destro was exaggerating? I mean hell, a CEO criminal pulling some Enron-type bullshit is pretty believable, isn’t it? those poor bamboozled shareholders

“makeste, here’s an idea, what if you scrolled down to read the rest of the page” lol gtfo of here with your logic and your sense

well those 132 people have made it onto my enemies list, but at least it sounds like they more or less took care of the rest. good riddance

and Toga escaped, as we knew already, and is now on the lam. hopefully she reunites with the League again at some point. although her doing her own thing could also be very interesting. idk what I want lol

anyway so there’s another big panel showing how fucked up the city is, just in case it hadn’t already been hammered into our skulls yet. there’s a car dangling off a roof somehow. how does that even happen. did Machia pick it up and put it there or

NOOO OMG RANDOM SMALL CHILDREN IN PERIL WHAT IS THIS

OCHAKO PLEASE SAVE THEM OMG

“if it falls on me, I want you to have my Endeavor pouch” OH MY STARS. HIS MOST PRECIOUS POSSESSION. NO MY CHILD YOU CAN’T GIVE UP HOPE YET

LMAO

“FOR THE LAST TIME NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR DUSTY-ASS POUCH, KYLE” fffff these children are dying and I am cracking up so hard my eyes are tearing up what is wrong with me

YAY THEY SAVED THEM

but listen. not that I don’t love seeing the girls kick ass, because you know I do. but I also really, REALLY need to know what’s going down with the Musketeers, and I’m not looking forward to waiting three whole weeks for that so please Horikoshi. please hurry this along so we can get to them

goddamn it Tsuyu is saying she’ll take the boy to the shelter to get first aid, and I was all “okay great because that’s probably where Kacchan and the others are too”, but now someone else is shouting for help and Ochako’s all “I’ll go” and it’s like OKAY BUT PLEASE? this chapter is already more than half over omfg. ‘bout to start wringing some hands here

oh my god

is this Toga again??? WHAT THE HELL, THIS CREEPYASS HALF-DEAD DUDE BETTER BE LEADING UP TO SOMETHING INTERESTING, I AM REALLY GETTING IMPATIENT

OR, I GUESS, WE COULD DO THIS INSTEAD

“SO AS IT TURNS OUT, NOT EVERY CHARACTER WHO NEEDS HELP SAVING THEIR SPOUSE FROM FALLEN RUBBLE IS ACTUALLY TOGA IN DISGUISE” HUH, OKAY. DULY NOTED. FILED AWAY FOR FUTURE REFERENCE

but fucking... okay, look. I love Ochako, I do. but I like her a whole lot more when she’s interacting with other characters I actually care about, as opposed to running around in the rubble rescuing random people while the fate of my other children is still up in the air. like okay, I get it, shit’s bad, now if you don’t mind we really don’t have to spend all day here though

...anyways but nope, we’re still staying with her. she’s bouncing around rescuing all of these other people. omg. I literally have no patience here at all and it’s terrible, I know, but oh my god

omg finally something interesting is happening!!

look at that, an adult hero standing around being useless while the kids are busy getting shit done. why is this becoming a recurring theme

MY DUDE, THIS IS SERIOUSLY NOT THE TIME THOUGH

I GET THAT IT’S OVERWHELMING AND THAT YOU’RE TRAUMATIZED AND SHIT, BUT GUESS WHAT, SO IS EVERYONE ELSE. THAT’S WHAT YOU SIGNED UP FOR. JUST LOOK AT OCHAKO! SHE’S SO EXHAUSTED HER HAIR HAS EVEN LOST ITS FLOOF, AND YET SHE’S STILL OUT HERE DOING HER BEST. ONE SAVE AT A TIME MY MAN. GET IT DONE. LITERALLY A SMALL CHILD IN THE BOTTOM RIGHT CALLING FOR THEIR MOMMY AND YOU’RE JUST STANDING THERE ALL “WAHH IT’S TOO MUCH” LIKE COULD YOU PLEASE POSTPONE YOUR CRISIS UNTIL AFTER YOU SAVE THEM PLEASE

OH MY GOD

MAYBE YOU SHOULD!! oh my god I really cannot, like wow. oh no I actually have to save people and do my job, god forbid. jesus christ, at least the other heroes tried. but Moping Hero: Bellyache here is just throwing in the towel and fuck everyone who still needs his help I guess. you are like the anti-Deku my dude

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD NO OH FUCK

THAT’S MIDNIGHT’S HAND OH FU -- SHE BETTER NOT -- HORIKOSHI I SWEAR TO GOD --

I’M GONNA LOSE IT I REALLY AM!!!!

HOLY SHIT HOW INTENSE OF A RAGE DO I NEED TO BRACE MYSELF TO BE FEELING HERE. THIS CHAPTER WAS ALREADY TRENDING TOWARDS DISAPPOINTMENT, DO WE REALLY NEED TO GO AND COMPOUND THAT

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON

you’re telling me Tomura wasn’t brought back by that electric shock, but by his “fuck you” attitude? why are you explaining this to us now, again??

......

HEY, SO UM, FUCK ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS, THOUGH. (: OH MAN. OHHHHHH MAN. I HAVE... I HAVE GOT A LOT OF WORDS FOR THIS AND HERE ARE SOME OF THEM

FUCK

THINGS THAT SHOULD BE IN THE DICTIONARY NEXT TO “SOME BULLSHIT”: THIS

FUCK

GET FUCKED HORIKOSHI

AND ALSO PLEASE FUCK RIGHT OFF!!

AND SERIOUSLY THOUGH FUCK YOU

NO BUT YOU KNOW WHAT THOUGH!! YOU COULD HAVE KILLED OFF ANYONE. LITERALLY ANY CHARACTER. YOU HAD TWELVE FEMALE PROS. TWELVE. YOU COULD HAVE MADE MORE OF THEM. PROBABLY, IF THERE ACTUALLY WERE SUPERHEROES IN REAL LIFE, THERE WOULD BE MORE THAN TWELVE OF THEM IN AN ENTIRE NATION. BUT NO, YOU WERE ALL “TWELVE IS MORE THAN ENOUGH.” AND THEN WHEN IT CAME TIME TO KILL PEOPLE OFF, YOU WERE ALL “WELL ALL RIGHT THEN, LET’S SEE, I PICK... THESE 18 RANDOM SIDE CHARACTERS WITH LITTLE TO NO DIALOGUE, PLUS THE ONE SINGLE FEMALE U.A. STAFF MEMBER WE ACTUALLY HAD. YEAH THAT OUGHTA DO IT”

AND BY THE WAY, HORIKOSHI, I PICKED SOMETHING UP FOR YOU ON MY WAY HOME, HERE IT IS, ┌П┐(・＿・) do you like it it was on sale. I saw it and was like, “Horikoshi would really like that.” so there you go. sorry it wasn’t gift-wrapped

p.s. I hope y’all can tell that that’s supposed to be a middle finger and not... something else lmao. er. anyway

(ETA: so I got a few asks from people who were really put off by this part of the reaction post, and so I’m just adding an extra note here to make it clear that I do not actually wish harm on Horikoshi in any way or even particularly dislike him. I wasn’t happy about Midnight’s death and I wanted to convey that, and so I went with my usual LOUD CAPSLOCK REACTION tone, but looking back on it I can see that it’s kind of a lot, lol. 

so just to be clear, the “fuck you” stuff is almost entirely tongue-in-cheek. that’s on me, I forget sometimes that there are people who share these sentiments unironically and so I didn’t think to make sure my intended meaning here was clear. anyways, killing Midnight was still a really problematic decision for numerous reasons but it is what it is. Horikoshi is not perfect, the story isn’t perfect, and I’m not gonna pretend like it is, but again just to be clear, I don’t harbor any actual ill will toward Horikoshi here.)

shit. and wow this man really went and killed off fucking Mystic too on top of that. have you ever seen a character fail so spectacularly at living up to their hype. r.i.p. Mystic you were like the Star Wars sequel of characters

(ETA: I have no fucking idea why I keep thinking Majestic’s name is Mystic lol. rest in peace you old scarecrowy bastard.)

and poor Momo, though. fuck. lost two mentors in a single day. and do not even get me started on Aizawa holy shit

so now we’re cutting to some random townspeople who are gossiping about the Todoroki drama. this is actually interesting in spite of my newfound determination to hate this chapter lol

ngl I am kind of heartened to see that not everyone fell for Dabi’s bs hook line and sinker though. Jeanist returning from the dead literally two seconds after Dabi was all “I SWEAR ON MY HONOR AS A VILLAIN THAT HAWKS MURDERED HIM” probably helped with that a bit! but there will doubtless be many other people who do believe him, or are at least still inclined to side-eye the heroes in general either way given how much they sucked in this arc. very, very interesting

so it seems though that even more than the whole Endeavor reveal, at the end of the day it’s going to be the heroes failing to live up to their end of the “put your faith in us and let us use our quirks and in return we’ll protect everyone and keep them safe” implied social contract that’s going to have the biggest impact on people’s opinions moving forward. basically this was always going to be a disaster no matter what

OH MY GOD FINALLY AHHHHH

Horikoshi really tapped into some of the real-life political energy of the past few years huh. Fuck Him Still for killing off Midnight, but I will admit that so far this is hella intriguing and I am really, really curious to see where things go from here

OH MY GOD THE LITTLE KIDS FROM THE BABYSITTING ARC

“FIVE PEEPEE MAN WOULDN’T LIE TO US” YES CHILDREN YOU’RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT. at least the little ones still have faith

UM

 ( •̀ へ •́  )

that’s great. that’s really keen. all we need right now, amirite

GOOD FOR YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT

let’s just wait for him to explain what he feels. you know he likes to drag it out

is that Dabi crouched down there next to Spinner? looks like they got him out of the marble after all. but why has his hair changed colors again lol what

anyways. your turn to what??

:’) excuse me what

hahahaha are you fucking kidding me. and that’s where we’re going to end the chapter then. lol okay

so let’s recap. Midnight died. we spent ten hours watching Ochako dig people out of rubble for no apparent reason and were then introduced to my new least favorite character, and because Ochako is so nice she didn’t even punch him in the face even though she really should have. we did not get any Kacchan or Shouto. we got one panel of Deku, who is Finally Asleep. and the chapter ended with AFO ordering his Noumus to go set free, AND I QUOTE, HIS “MAIN BODY.” and now I gotta wait an entire week for Caleb’s translation to confirm that last part. omg

but it sounds like a prison break is imminent, which is very, very interesting. ...and actually, is it weird that I’m actually rooting for it to be a success? I have no idea what this guy is planning, but I do know that as long as the main part of his soul is still residing in Tomura’s body, Tomura’s chance of surviving the series is close to zero. and villain though he may be, I’m still rooting for his redemption (nice to have Deku on my side now too), and so yeah. so like if AFO feels like using some latent Exorcism Quirk or something that he’s been saving for just such an occasion, be my guest lol

meanwhile this doesn’t bode well for All Might though. or anyone else aside from Tomura, really. shiiiit

anyway. [slaps roof of chapter] this baby can fit so much bullshit in it

[drabbles-mc]

Pretty Boy

Juice Ortiz x OFC (Dakota Lowman)

Combining an Anonymous request and a request from @adela-topaz-caelon:  Juice Ortiz x F!Reader, were the reader is Happy’s daughter and her boyfriend is Juice? and Juice x female reader where they're at the clubhouse or somewhere, just chilling to keep reader safe or something, and you get those cheesy moments of catching an eye, or an absentmindedly kiss that causes flusteredness

Warnings: language, alcohol, Juice being a lil cutie pie

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: I tweaked each of these requests a little bit, but I hope y’all still enjoy it! I got the Happy’s Daughter request and immediately me and @garbinge started brainstorming OC ideas and we ended up with two daughters for Happy. Clearly we get carried away haha. This is just a fluffy little one-shot and a sort of wamrup/intro to the Lowman Sisters as OCs. We (when I say “we”, I totally mean me and Anj as a unit lmao) have big plans for them in the future and I can’t wait to take y’all along for the ride. In the meantime, enjoy this lil oneshot! xo

SOA Taglist: @masterlistforimagines​ @mijop​ @chibsytelford​ @xladymacbethx​ @i-just-read-stuff​ @kkim120​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @toni9​ @unicornucopia-fuckers​ @mayans-sauce​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @punkgoddess-98​ @paintballkid711​ @black-repunzel99​ @jitterbugs927​ @mrsstevenbuchananstark​ (If you want to be added to the list feel free to let me know!)

“Out of all the women in the universe,” Juice spoke up with a shake of his head, “I think the last two that need someone to watch their backs are Happy’s daughters, that’s all.”

Jax shook his head, “Everyone has someone watching their back, no exceptions.”

“Yea but they don’t need—”

He cut Juice off, “Club call, not theirs.”

Both of Happy’s daughters were sitting back, watching the entire interaction play out in front of them. It wasn’t something that they’d never gone through before, but they each knew that there was a more tactful way to go about it without making them feel like they were being saddled with babysitters. His youngest thought it was all bullshit, but she wasn’t willing to put up a fight over it. Her older sister, however, didn’t have the same reservations.

“Fuck this,” she stood up off her barstool, “You don’t get to make that call for me, Teller.”

“Hap said—”

“Well Hap isn’t here,” she rolled her eyes as she swiped her keys off the table, “Tell my old man if he wants someone to babysit me, he can do it himself,” she began walking towards the clubhouse door, “just like the good old days.”

“Diedra,” Jax stepped towards her, wrapping his hand around her forearm.

She immediately twisted her arm out of his grasp and used her other hand to shove him backwards, “Do that again and I’ll bust your fucking nose,” she waited a beat to see if any of them were going to try to stop her again, and when they didn’t, she looked over to her sister, “Call me if any of these assholes give you any trouble, alright?”

She nodded, “Alright.”

The clubhouse door slammed behind her, leaving an awkward silence in its wake. Jax glanced over at Juice, who was trying to look anywhere but at his VP and the young woman still perched at the bar. With a heavy sigh, Jax spoke up, “Don’t go two for two on losing the Lowman Sisters, alright? Hap is gonna wring my fucking neck over Di as it is.”

“He won’t,” she shook her head, chuckling slightly, “You think our dad doesn’t know what you’re dealing with?”

“You think that your dad is really gonna care about that when it comes down to it?” Jax retorted. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to get his tone in order, “Sorry, Kota. It’s not on you. Just, please stay with Juice, alright? Just until we figure all this shit out.”

She nodded, taking a sip of her coffee and trying to pretend that she didn’t get a little bit of sadistic enjoyment out of Jax’s stress over her father and sister, “Sure, I can handle that.”

He didn’t say anything more before also heading out the door, managing to shut it a little quieter than the woman who had walked out before him. It left just Juice and Dakota by themselves in the clubhouse—everyone else either on club business or safely within the walls of their own homes waiting out the impending chaos.

“How pissed is your dad gonna be about your sister?” Juice asked, a smirk starting to curl the edges of his mouth.

Dakota laughed, shaking her head, “He’s not going to actually be pissed. He knows how Di gets about lockdown and shit,” she paused, smiling, “But he is going to make Jax feel like shit about it first.”

Juice chuckled, “Perfect.”

There were a few beats of silence before she spoke up again, “So do I get to know why I need a bodyguard or…?”

“H-happy didn’t tell you?”

She shook her head, “No,” with a huff she rolled her eyes, “he never tells me shit. I don’t, I don’t know why Di gets to know everything and I don’t. I don’t get what’s so different.”

“She is older,” Juice couldn’t pretend to understand the dynamics in the Lowman family but it seemed like an easy justification to offer up.

“By like, four years. That doesn’t mean shit.”

Juice laughed, “You sound a little bitter.”

“Bitter is in our blood, Juan,” she laughed as she finished off her coffee.

The use of his real name caught him off-guard. The two of them hadn’t ever really talked much, just little conversations here and there. He didn’t think that she knew his real name at all, let alone felt comfortable enough with him to use it. Despite the bite in her tone for every other word she spoke, there was a softness when she said it.

“Right,” he tried to keep himself focused, “Well, your sister seems like a girl full of answers so maybe you should ask her about it.”

“Glad I’m at least going to be locked down with a comedian,” she shook her head before getting up and tossing her coffee cup in the garbage, “So, what? You just gonna follow me around while I do things? Keep me company while I get a pedicure?”

He laughed, “I don’t think that you should really be out getting pedicures right now.”

“Well, then could you at least take me back to my place?” she laughed, “Di and I came together and she just stormed off with the keys.”

Juice couldn’t help the laughter that slipped past his lips, “Yea, yea I think I can handle that.”

As the two of them walked across the lot towards Juice’s bike, Dakota became very aware of the fact that the two of them hadn’t ever spent any one-on-one time together. They saw each other in passing at the clubhouse, and a couple times he’d worked on her car in the past, but they didn’t really know each other. She knew of him, the same way he probably knew of her. But they didn’t learn anything about each other, from each other.

In the past when she and her sister needed someone to watch their back because of things going on with the club, it would usually just be Happy, because that made the most sense. And realistically, Diedra had been right when she said that she could handle herself perfectly fine. If the two of them were left to their own devices they’d probably be okay, but it wasn’t a chance that the MC was willing to take. On a rare occasion or two Chibs or Tig kept an eye on them, but those men usually kept their distance.

Juice handed her a spare helmet, a lopsided grin on his face, “Where is your place, anyway?”

“Apartment complex just off Main?” she said as she clipped the helmet on, “Gray Street.”

He nodded, “Got it.”

She settled onto the bike behind him with ease, no stranger to the ins and outs of a ride. It caught Juice off-guard for a moment before he remembered who she was. He looked down to see her well-manicured nails interlocked over his stomach and he didn’t know why but it made him smile. She leaned against him a little, waiting for him to peel out of the compound. He checked with her to make sure she was good before taking off.

As he rolled into the parking lot of the complex, Dakota directed him where to go and park. Diedra’s car was nowhere to be seen. And while it had been made abundantly clear that she was in charge of herself, Juice still felt a little responsible for how everything had played out.

“You two live here together, right?” he asked as he put down the kickstand of his bike.

“Yea,” she unclipped her helmet and tousled her hair, “but she’s probably blowing off steam somewhere. Maybe tracking down our dad,” she laughed.

“Was it weird growing up with Happy as a dad?” the question came out before he could stop it, and regret instantly flooded over his features, “Fuck, sorry. I, I know it’s really not my business.”

She chuckled as she dug her keys out of her purse, “You’re fine. Don’t apologize so much.”

“Sor—” he stopped himself, “Right.”

“But in answer to your question,” they slowly made their way up the stairs to the second floor of the apartment building, “He…he tried. He does the best he can, you know? I think all our parents do,” she put the key in the lock of her door, “Doesn’t mean that their best is always good enough, but it’s all they can do.”

She was about to step inside when Juice put an arm out in front of her to stop her. She chuckled, nodding for him to go in first and scope the place out, even though it was highly unlikely that anyone ended up there looking for her or her sister.

About a minute later she heard Juice’s voice calling for her to come inside. She laughed as she stepped in, locking the door behind her before tossing her purse off to the side and instantly kicking off her shoes. Juice watched her, and as she sauntered her way into the kitchen he really began to question how the two of them never ended up really speaking to each other. He and Diedra had had a handful of conversations, although they weren’t deep or filled with a lot of pleasantries. But he felt like he had a better idea of who she was, than who her little sister was. She was always kind unless provoked, but she kept to herself a lot of the time.

“Smoothie?” she offered as she pulled a half-full blender out of the fridge.

Juice laughed in surprise. Usually when he was at someone’s house they offered beer, or something stronger. He’d never even been offered water before let alone a smoothie. He shook his head, “I’m good for now, thanks.”

She shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

By the time Diedra came back to the apartment, the sun had long since set. Dakota and Juice were camped out at the counter, both of them laughing hard at whatever story Juice had been telling. They heard the sound of the key in the lock and both of them looked over at the door expectantly. Diedra walked inside, kicking off her boots and tossing her keys immediately. She’d seen Juice’s bike parked outside and wasn’t enthused, and when she could hear their laughter from the hallway, she had the feeling that he wasn’t going to be in a rush to get back to the clubhouse or go home.

She looked about as exhausted and frustrated as she felt. She’d gone and tracked down her father, which did nothing to help the current situation. On top of him being upset about how she was handling the whole protection side of things, he was mad that she had gone out on a manhunt to find him, completely defeating the purpose of having someone keeping her safe.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” she skipped over the pleasantries and got right to the point, “With the two of us here we should be alright.”

“I, uh, I don’t mind,” Juice didn’t know why he found Diedra to be just as intimidating as her father, but he did, “I can hang out a little longer.”

She shrugged, not looking to argue about it, “Suit yourself,” she looked at her sister, “I’m gonna go shower.”

Dakota gave a wordless nod and watched her sister disappear to the other end of the apartment.  She let out a sigh and shook her head—she didn’t know the details of her older sister’s day, but she didn’t have to. Dakota could tell from the moment she walked in that the day hadn’t gone in her favor. She’d try to be there for her if she thought it would get either of them anywhere, but if there was one thing that she’d learned about her sister in all their years growing up together, was that those kinds of things happened on Diedra’s terms, and no one else’s.

“She always this cheery?” Juice asked with tiny smirk, “Or just when I’m around?”

Dakota laughed, shaking her head, “It has nothing to do with you, personally. It’s…complicated. Honestly, she’s gotta like you on some level because she hasn’t threatened you yet. But either way,” she reached and rested her hand on his for a moment, “I’m glad you’re here.”

The touch was light and momentary but Juice felt it course through his entire body. He cleared his throat, trying to do anything besides stare at his hands, “Well that’s…that’s nice to hear.”

“And not that I’m trying to rush you out, but for the sake of your own self-esteem,” there was a playful smile on her face, “you might wanna just head out and come back in the morning. She’ll be a little cooled off by then.”

He nodded, “Yea, yea okay,” he hopped up and they both made their way towards the door, “Lock it behind me.”

She rolled her eyes, “Yea, I’ve done this before.”

He stood in the hallway for a moment as Dakota leaned against the doorframe, a smile beginning to tug at the edges of her mouth. He wanted to reach out and hug her, but he knew better. He shoved his hands into his pockets to fight the urge.

“I’ll see you in the morning, then?” she asked.

He nodded, “I’ll be here bright and early.”

She laughed, “I’ll have coffee ready, then,” she paused, “Goodnight, Juan.”

He smiled, “Goodnight.”

A little while later, when Dakota was already in bed scrolling on her phone, there was a knock on her bedroom door. She turned on the light and called for her sister to come in. When the door opened, Diedra was standing there wrapped in her towel, clothes draped over her arm as she propped herself against the side of the door.

“You all good?”

Dakota propped herself up on her elbows, nodding, “Yea, yea I’m good. You good?”

She shrugged, “I’ll be alright.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Pfft,” her annoyance wasn’t aimed at her sister, “Nothing to say. Same shit,” there was a beat of silence, “Juice stay here with you all day?”

She nodded, “Yea. I know you don’t like him but he seems swe—”

“It’s not that I don’t like him,” she let out a small sigh, “the whole situation is just a fuckin’ mess. Plus you and I are adults—we don’t need fucking babysitters.”

Dakota couldn’t do anything besides nod, “I know. I just, I don’t see the point in fighting it if we’re just gonna lose.”

“You’re only fine with it because they saddled you with the pretty boy,” a knowing smirk crossed Diedra’s face for a moment.

Her little sister laughed, “Certainly doesn’t hurt to have something nice to look at in a pseudo-lockdown.”

“Mhm,” she shook her head, “Just don’t do anything stupid, alright?”

“Never,” she laughed, “Love you.”

“Love you.”

With that she shut the door and made her way off to her own room. Dakota flopped back down onto her pillow with a sigh, trying to get everything in order in her head. All she ever really wanted to do was keep the peace, but it was practically an impossible task at this point so she wondered what the use was in even trying anymore.

True to her word, the next morning there was already a pot of coffee made by the time that Juice got there. Truthfully, she’d just set an alarm specifically for that purpose and then gone right back to bed. That was made evident to him by the fact that she answered the door half-asleep, hair still a bit of a frizzy mess from a night of tossing and turning. She smiled and waved him in but didn’t say much of anything, wordlessly gesturing to the coffee pot to let him know to help himself.

“Not a morning person?” he chuckled.

She shook her head, running her hands down her face, “No, that’s always been Di’s thing. I’m a night owl.”

As if on cue, Diedra came bounding into the apartment, headphones still on and drenched in sweat from her run and workout that morning. She saw Juice standing in the kitchen and offered him a slight nod as she made her way directly to the bathroom to shower. She lightly patted Dakota on the back as she walked by, letting the gesture serve as her greeting for the morning.

“So,” Juice drummed his fingers on the edge of the counter as he watched Dakota pour them each a cup of coffee, “what’s the plan for today?”

She shrugged as she slid it across to him, “You tell me,” she took a sip, “I got some school shit I gotta do, but I can do it here or at the clubhouse if that’s better. I still don’t know what the fuck is going on, so I’m following your lead on this.”

No one had ever said those words in that order to him before. He took a long drink out of his coffee cup to buy himself a few extra seconds to think, “Um, I mean, clubhouse would probably be best. More people around,” his eyes flicked towards the other end of the apartment, “I’m guessing your sister is just gonna…”

“Do whatever she wants to do?” she laughed, nodding, “Sounds about right,” she stretched, taking a deep breath, “Alright. Let me get ready and we can head out.”

“Okay,” he sat down at the counter, “No rush or anything.”

While he was finishing his coffee and waiting for Dakota to get ready, her sister emerged back into the kitchen, no longer in her sweaty workout clothes. She had on a baggy hoodie and a pair of running shorts, hair still down and damp as she opened the fridge to start pulling together her smoothie for the morning.

“Where you two crazy kids off to today?” she asked as she set everything on the counter.

“Just to the clubhouse,” he paused, trying to figure out if she should ask what he was about to ask, “You?”

She glanced back over her shoulder, her expression serious for a moment before she cracked the smallest of smiles, “I’ll be around. Got some shit I gotta handle.”

“Anything I can—”

“All you gotta worry about is my sister and the club, Juice,” her tone was firm, but not mean.

Before he could say anything more, Dakota walked back out into the kitchen. She looked back and forth between her sister and Juice, surprised at the lack of tension in the room. There wasn’t the fear of god in Juice’s eyes the way there had been the night before.

“We’re gonna head out,” she gave Juice a slight nod towards the door before looking back at her sister, “Text me when you get where you’re going?”

She nodded, “Sure thing. Don’t let him wipe out on the bike.”

Dakota laughed as she looked over at Juice, “Well, guess we’re taking the bike.”

Dakota made herself comfortable at one of the tables in the clubhouse. She had her headphones on and her schoolwork spread out across the table in front of her. Between her notebooks and her laptop, there was just enough room for Juice and his computer on the other side of the table. Every now and then she’d look up and catch him staring at her, and she’d offer up a smile before diving back into her work. Juice wanted to ask her about it, wanted just about any reason to listen to her talk, but he stopped himself.

It was late in the afternoon when she finally leaned back in her chair, taking her headphones off with a groan. She ran her hands down her face as she shook her head, trying to get her brain to slow down. Juice looked up at her, chuckling quietly.

“It’s going that well, huh?”

“Go back to school they said. It’ll be good for you they said,” she laughed, rolling her eyes, “Fuck this. I don’t know why I’m paying to suffer.”

Juice couldn’t help but to laugh, “Sorry it’s so rough.”

She shrugged, “It’s fine. I just need to complain about it sometimes,” she smiled at him, “And since you’re the one who is stuck with me, you’re the one who has to hear it. Sorry.”

“You can complain as much as you want,” a smirk tugged at his lips as he drummed his fingers on the table, “I don’t mind.”

That was the routine that they fell into for the next week. Each morning Juice would show up at her apartment, make small-talk with Diedra that got less and less awkward as the days went on, and then they’d head to the clubhouse once Dakota was ready. On the days when Juice was actually working at T-M, Dakota would set herself up at the picnic table outside, or if she was just reading, she would find an empty chair in the garage to sit in so that the two of them would stay close. It wasn’t that they really needed to talk all that much, but the proximity was nice. And, for the time being, they had the cover of the fact that he was supposed to be keeping an eye on her.

In the midst of a sea of fleeting touches and soft smiles, neither of them brought themselves to say anything to address all the feelings that were bubbling up. A few times, Juice almost did. There were moments, after he’d park his bike at the clubhouse or her apartment, and she’d leave her arms wrapped around him a little longer than necessary. She’d keep herself flush against his back despite the fact that she didn’t need to anymore, and he’d almost get the nerve to say something to her. But it never quite happened. He’d see her reading, taking notes on something that was way above his paygrade, and every square inch of his brain would scream at him to tell her that she’s beautiful, but the words always got caught in his throat.

“Guess what,” Diedra strode over to the picnic table where her sister was sitting, laptop set up in front of her for class.

She looked up, eyebrows raised, “What’s up?”

“As of,” she looked at the time on her phone, “One hour and twenty-five minutes ago, we are no longer on fake, need-a-babysitter lockdown.”

Dakota laughed, shaking her head, “I don’t think that you ever really were.”

“Yea, well,” Diedra laughed as she swiped up her sister’s drink and took a sip of it, “now Dad can’t keep giving me shit about it. So that’s a plus,” there were a few beats of silence, “You gonna break the news to pretty boy over there? Or you gonna let the club do it?”

She smiled, shaking her head, “No news to break. Shit will just go back to business as usual.”

“He’s gonna be real fuckin’ bummed about it, you know.”

She arched one eyebrow, “Why does it feel like you’re encouraging this?”

“He seems less shitty than most the other guys you’ve brought around.”

“We’re not even—”

“I know,” Diedra chuckled, “I know you’re not. But he’s chomping at the fuckin’ bit so I’d say something before he thinks that he’s completely lost his shot.”

Dakota’s nails clacked on the surface of the picnic table as she tapped them, clearly thinking about everything her sister had said to her. Diedra walked away, letting her little sister mull over what she had said.

As the afternoon was drawing to a close, the guys all came out of church into the main expanse of the clubhouse. Everyone was whooping and hollering, and it was clear that whatever the issue it was that had arisen, had been taken care of. Everyone else who was already at the clubhouse joined in on the cheering, despite not knowing all of the details.

Diedra and Dakota were camped out at the bar, each of them smiling and shaking their heads because they knew the antics that were about to ensue. The music immediately got louder and the prospect behind the bar skipped over grabbing glasses and just took out a few entire bottles of liquor to set on the counter for the guys to grab.

After a few minutes of the initial chaos, Dakota felt someone’s hand land on her shoulder. She turned around, expecting to see Juice, but instead came face-to-face with her father. She smiled up at him as she took a sip of her beer.

“Glad everything got sorted.”

He nodded, “For now,” there was a pause as he looked her over, “You’re alright?”

She laughed, “Yea, Dad, I’m alright. I’m not the person at the top of the priority list for anyone who is out to get you. And even if I was,” she nodded towards her sister who was now at the other end of the bar in a heated discussion with Tig about something, “between Di and Juan, no one was getting to me.”

His brows furrowed when he heard her refer to him by his real name, “He didn’t do anything fucking stupid, did he?”

She almost choked on her beer, shaking her head, “No, no he didn’t. Jesus Christ, Dad, cut the kid some slack.”

“Alright,” he nodded, pulling her in and placing a chaste kiss to her forehead, “I love you.”

She chuckled, nodding, “I love you too.”

Happy disappeared into the crowd and it was only a few moments before the stool beside her became occupied. She glanced over, a smile spreading across her face when she saw the person she’d been expecting originally.

“Congrats on, well,” she chuckled, “whatever you guys did.”

Juice smiled, shaking his head, “Just keeping ourselves alive and outta jail for another day. That’s all,” he paused as he took the beer bottle being handed to him by the man on the other side of the bar, “Guess you’ll finally be able to go and get your pedicures now.”

She laughed, “Yea I guess so. The invite is still open if you wanna come with me. It’s quite the experience.”

“Tempting,” he leaned onto the bar, letting his elbows rest on it, “But I think I’m good.”

“You know, even if you don’t want to go and get pedicures with me,” she sipped on her beer, “We could find something else to do that we could both enjoy.”

He looked over at her, a tentative smile on his face, “Yea?”

She shrugged, “Yea. Preferably something not early in the morning. I’d love to go back to sleeping in,” she couldn’t help but to laugh.

“You didn’t have to wake up early, you know.”

“Yea, but, I wanted to. I…I like spending time with you.”

That statement hung in the air for a few seconds before she gently nudged his knee with her own. It snapped him out of whatever train of thought he was trapped in, his eyes searching hers waiting to figure out the next move. She smiled, a quiet laugh passing her lips before she leaned in and kissed him, her hand coming to rest on the back of his head.

Shock went through his body for a moment as he forced himself to realize that it was really happening, that it wasn’t just a dream. His hand lightly gripped onto her thigh as he let himself lean into her. When she pulled her lips off of his, they each laughed, the sound of it soft against the raucous noise of the clubhouse.

“I’m free tomorrow,” Juice forced out through the surprise coursing through his system, “If…if you wanted to do something.”

Dakota laughed, leaning back onto her seat but letting her hand tangle up with his, “Yea, I could do something tomorrow.”

“Afternoon?” he said with a laugh.

“Yea,” she laughed and gave his hand a squeeze, “Tomorrow afternoon is good.”

[professorthaddeus]

Out of Sight

This is a companion piece to @io-kj-cr‘s heartbreaking fic, Decisions, an AU of 2x128 where Caleb gives himself up to Trent. Would highly recommend checking it out!

also on ao3

—————————— 

They let him go. 

The chips were down, they were out of options with enemies at the door, Mama and Yeza and little Luc were not going to be trapped in a building with Icky-thong, and in that moment of weakness, they let him go.

“Cad, what do you see?” Fjord, grim. Caduceus is standing at the one window in the room, chosen for his keen ability to read people to keep an eye on the exchange.

The exchange. They’re selling Caleb back to the grossest person in the Empire, to his literal lifelong tormentor, and they’re just sitting here like it’s nothing. 

“They’re not hurting him. They’re just talking.” Caduceus’ voice rumbles in a steady cadence, ever the rock in the rapids. But Jester sees how his knuckles are clenched white around his staff. 

“Is he… how does he look?”

Veth, piping up from the floor, clutching Caleb’s spellbooks to her chest. Yeza’s holding her, Luc sitting uncharacteristically still by their side. He’s got a book in his hands as well. Jester’s heart thuds painfully when she recognizes the title as a collection of Zemnian fairy tales.

“He’s standing tall.”

Of course he is. They’ve all seen Caleb file away his fears and stitch himself together in the moments that really count. They’ve also seen him shake apart immediately afterwards.

This time, none of them are going to be there to help him pick up the pieces.

“This doesn’t sit well with me,” Yasha says quietly, fingers twitching toward her swords.

“Yeah, no shit.” Beau, pacing, coiled like she’s ready to pounce. “This was such a bad plan. I say we go ahead and attack them now. They’re busy with Caleb, so we could absolutely ambush them in a pincer move, or—“

“They’re gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?” Beau rushes to the window, where Caduceus is stepping aside. He leans back against the wall, looking lost in a way Jester hasn’t seen since his first time on the sea.

“I mean he and his friends stepped into a portal and disappeared.”

Beau’s jaw tightens. “They’re not his friends.”

“I don’t know,” Fjord murmurs, though Jester knows he would definitely be fuming as well if Beau wasn’t so close to the edge right now. “They did warn us they were coming.” He holds up his hands when Beau shoots him a withering look. “It could be a good thing. They might help us get him back.”

“With or without their help, I wasn’t kidding when I said our next step was going to be a jailbreak,” she mutters.

“Agreed.”

Veth lets out a shaky breath. “And he’ll be okay until then. He just has to hold on for one night, and we’ll go get him. He’s the smartest, most capable of us all; he’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, he’s way more powerful than them,” Jester adds, automatic. Something twists in her chest.

“Sure, except he doesn’t even have his fucking spellbooks.”

For once, Veth flinches instead of snapping a retort back at Beau.

“You keep these safe for me until I return, ja?”

“I don’t like this, Cay. There has to be another way.” There’s a tremor in Veth’s hands as she takes the books.

“There isn’t, and we are running out of time. Besides, he won’t kill me. He… ah, he has said many times already he simply wishes to talk.”

Jester winces. It’s going to be a long time before she forgets the haunted look that appeared in Caleb’s eyes every time Trent’s voice slithered into his ear today.

“Be good for your mother and father,” Caleb’s saying, ruffling Luc’s hair. 

He straightens to look at the rest of them, meeting their eyes one by one. Jester can almost hear him counting in his head. 

A wall slams down over his expression as he squares his shoulders.

“I am so sorry about all this.” He continues before any of them can protest. “Thank you all.”

Jester tries not to think it sounds like a goodbye.

She shoves the image of Caleb’s pale, determined face out of her head, swallowing the building lump in her throat. The last thing she needs—the last thing Mama needs—is for her to break down right now. 

“Well,” she hedges into the silence, “he’s got like, a really good memory, you guys. Maybe he doesn’t need them. Maybe he remembers all his spells.”

“I don’t—“ Beau starts, before taking a deep breath. Yasha’s hand is slipping into hers. She softens her tone. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Jes.”

“Oh.”

“Jester, I’m so sorry.” Mama speaks up from where she’s been sitting anxiously beside her. There’s so much regret in her face. “Your friend, he—”

“No, no, Mama, no.” She’s been so strong today, and Jester’s so, so proud of her for facing her fears, but she never should have been forced to do it. “This isn’t your fault at all. We brought them to you.”

Technically, she brought them here. Caleb can blame himself all he wants, but Jester’s the one who put a target on Nicodranas in that letter to Astrid all those months ago and the one who dropped Mama’s name into a conversation with an enemy guard just a few hours ago.

“Who… are they?”

“They’re, um.” Her voice wavers. She swallows again. “They’re bad people. Really, really bad people.”

“Oh, my Sapphire,” Mama hums, and it’s kind of crazy how those three words can sound like music from her lips. She reaches up to cup Jester’s cheek. “You and your friends are some of the most amazing people I’ve met. “And you,” she brushes her thumb gently across her skin, “are more creative than anyone in the world. You’ll find a way.”

Mama presses a kiss to the top of her head and then takes her hands. They’re smooth, warm. Jester looks down. Red and blue, just like when she was little, except now her hands can’t be fully covered by Mama’s. She’s grown up and stepped out of Mama’s arms and the sanctuary of their Chateau. Just like she always dreamed and plotted with Artie. It’s all she can do not to cry.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” she manages, tries for a watery smile.

“Jester,” Yasha ventures gingerly. “Can’t you talk to him?”

She shakes her head, blinking away the blurriness. “Not until tomorrow. I don’t have the energy left to cast a spell.” 

Caduceus clears his throat. “Good.” The rest of them look to him, startled. “Now there’s nothing to do but get some sleep so we’ll be ready for tomorrow. Mr. Wensforth, can you help us set something up for the night?”

The poor goblin looks up from where he’s been wringing his hands in the corner. Jester doesn’t blame him. 

Man, Yussa’s gonna be super pissed when he wakes up to find so many people in his tower.

She can’t imagine how she’s supposed to fall asleep, but Caduceus makes her drink some tea, and eventually she feels the tension of the day seep into her bones. Before it claims her consciousness, she brings the symbol of the Traveler to her chest.

“Artie, look out for him, okay?”

——— 

In the morning, Beau and Caduceus wake her and the others, careful not to disturb Mama, Yeza, or Luc.

Jester tucks the blanket around Mama a little more securely before heading out.

They all cluster together in a smaller room off of one of the tower’s winding stairwells. Caduceus starts passing around breakfast, but she declines, sitting in the middle of the floor instead and prepping a familiar spell. 

Fjord gives her an encouraging nod, holding ten fingers up at the ready. 

She focuses on the image of her friend, on the furrow in his brow as he wields magic like a weapon, on the way his eyes crinkle when he offers one of his soft, rare smiles. She fires up Sending.

“Caleb! Are you alright? Where are you? Are you hurt? Are you in Rexxentrum? I’m sorry, I had to wait until today to Send to reach you but we’re—”

Fjord’s nudging her, signaling the end of the spell. Jester blows a strand of hair out of her face, tapping her fingers against her knee.

She waits five seconds, ten, a minute. No response.

She bites her lip. “You guys—”

Beau’s there already, tugging her into a hug as Fjord gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Veth lets out a muffled noise of frustration.

“He could just not be in a place where he can talk freely right now, we don’t know,” Caduceus says evenly.

“Maybe I should try Astrid?”

Beau shifts, but she doesn’t let go. “I dunno, man, I don’t trust her.”

“She loves Caleb,” Veth says, but again, none of her usual ferocity is there.

“Yeah, maybe.” Beau’s face darkens. “And now she has him back.”

Her words hang heavy in the air.

Jester shakes herself. “Look, fuck it, I’m just going to do it.” She takes a deep breath.

“Astrid,” she chirps. “Is Caleb with you? Tell him to talk to me when he can. Oh also, if any of you hurt him, we’re totally gonna find you and make sure you never—”

“That’s it, Jester.”

“You should send another one. Let her hear the end of your threat,” Yasha says, and Jester swears she can hear thunder roll beneath the mild suggestion.

Fjord cracks something resembling a smile. “As entertaining as that would be, I think—“

Jester shushes them as Astrid’s voice comes back. 

Good morning, Jester. Bren is well and unharmed. He is here with us and under no restraints or compulsion. He is home now.

Jester growls. 

“What did she say?”

“That Caleb’s okay and like, he’s home, or some total bullshit. She’s wrong, obviously.” She has to be. Jester ignores the building pressure in her chest, flicks her wrist to cast again.

“Please, tell me something, tell me anything, tell me you’re fine, or dead, but please, we need to hear from you, we need to plan our next moves and we can get you out of there as long as you just—” Fjord squeezes her hand. Stupid, stupid spell with stupid word limits.

Nothing on the other end anyway. Her eyes sting, and this time, Jester doesn’t try to stop the sob in her throat.

“I’ll keep messaging you, please Caleb, we’re scared and worried, please tell us where you are, we can fix this, we can get you back!”

Finally, finally, Caleb speaks.

I am well, Jester; returning was my decision, and I am unharmed.

He sounds so tired.

I need you all to stay away. Stay safe. I am sorry.

Silence once more.

Jester’s messages have reached across thousands of miles, over oceans and barren wastelands and enemy lines. This is the first time she’s felt the yawning distance the magic has to travel.

She swipes at her eyes, glaring through her tears. 

She knows what he’s doing. It’s what he’s always done, protect and shield and give and give and give like it’s all he’s good for. But she’s also seen him start to unfurl, seen him laugh more and trust more and take one careful step after another out of the shadows of his past. He knows he’s part of their family. They just need to help him remember what that means.

“He said something,” Veth guesses.

“Something awful and self-sacrificing?” Beau mutters. 

“Yeah.” 

Jester pushes back her sleeves, and she can feel a breeze drift into the chamber, the rustle of a green cloak at her side.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re going to get him, now.”

[hurricanery]

If You Went Away - pt. 2

A/N: Here’s part two of If You Went Away. You can read part 1 here. This is still pretty much angst but….I promise there’s light at the end of this tunnel. ALSO I want to explain in case anyone else was wondering 1) Amelink are not yet married in this 2) They have their own house in this story/they do not live at Meredith’s house like they currently do in the show. Hope that clears things up! Thanks so much for reading and sending encouraging messages it really means a lot <3

_______

(end of summer // present day)

“Amelia?” Maggie calls out as she pulls the spare key out of her sister’s front door lock. “Are you home?”

Silence.

She walks through the empty house, not failing to take in its current state. The piles of laundry not put away, dishes overflowing the sink, binders full of surgical notes and papers scattered across the kitchen table that are covered in Amelia’s messy handwriting.

She takes a look around the kitchen and notices the food that’s been left out, indicating that someone has recently been here. The food is perishable. So, Maggie decides to put things back in the fridge before they go bad. She frowns to herself as she notices the relative emptiness of the fridge.

She then searches through the practically empty cabinets, too. Before feeling like she’s doing too much prying. Pulling out her cell phone instead, she dials Amelia’s number.  

To Maggie’s surprise, she hears a phone go off from somewhere upstairs.

_______

“Amelia,” Maggie enters her bedroom, where she discovers one sound asleep Amelia. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day. It’s like 2pm. What’s going on?”

There’s a pillow over Amelia’s head, and her only response is a muffled groan.

“Amelia.” Maggie says again, a certain harshness to her voice. Stepping around to the side of the bed, she rips the pillow away and tosses it aside.

Amelia immediately attempts to replace the pillow with her arms, not so successfully covering her head. “Maggie,” her voice cracks. “How’d you even get in here?”

“Spare key.”

Silence falls between them and Maggie just stares around the room. The curtains are pulled shut and the air is stuffy. There are a concerning amount of unfinished mugs of coffee and tea placed on every surface.

And then there’s Amelia, and her basically lifeless looking body, not even covered by any sort of bedding. The comforter happens to be in a pile on the floor. But she lay there anyway, in an oversized sweatshirt, hair an absolute mess, arms covering her head.

“Amelia,” Maggie says, all tough-love. No bullshit. “Get up. Get in the shower. I’ll make you coffee.”

_______

A solid half hour later and Amelia reluctantly rounds the corner into her kitchen. The sight of Maggie busying herself by cleaning the kitchen almost makes Amelia smile. Almost.

And Maggie’s heart clenches at the ounce of an expression.

Amelia looks rough, even after a shower. And that’s putting it lightly. The same oversized sweatshirt from before still covers her thin frame and Maggie can’t help but to notice the endlessly exhausted look in her eyes.

“There’s coffee, hun,” Maggie clears her throat, nodding towards the coffee-maker.

Amelia nods, and moves toward her cabinets, in search of a mug. “Thanks,” she murmurs, pouring herself a cup, not even bothering to add any creamer.

Maggie makes her way over to the kitchen table and Amelia follows suit, reaching forward to clear some of her books and papers out of the way.

“Sorry about the mess,” she mutters, stacking all of her surgical notes onto one side of the table.

She slowly takes a seat across from Maggie, her eyes not leaving her own hands, and the way her fingers wrap around the warm mug tightly. Her eyes sting unwillingly.

Ignoring the way her throat burns, she opens her mouth, attempting to persuade her sister that everything in this household is a-okay. “So, how’ve you been, Maggie? Been a while.” She lifts her stare and offers what she believes to be a smile.

Maggie stares back at her in disbelief. “Amelia,” she sighs. And Amelia pretends to be confused by her tone. “What is going on here?”

Amelia frowns, laughing under her breath. Her gaze shifts to the pile of surgical prep sitting on the table. “The spinal surgery,” she mutters, like it should be the most obvious thing in the world. “Maggie I’m prepping for an impossible surgery, I don’t know what you expect-”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” She interrupts. “And to tell you the truth, I’m a little pissed.” Amelia looks like she’s ready to respond, but instead shuts her mouth closed, her teeth clamping together. Maggie’s tough act softens just slightly, along with her voice. “I’m your sister, Amelia, let me be here for you.”

“I don’t need…” She blinks, trailing off.

“Shut up, Amelia.” It doesn’t sound harsh at all, in fact it makes Amelia’s eyes sting out of pure gratefulness.

Despite her attempts to repress any emotion, Amelia huffs a deep breath and blinks upward, but fails to keep the moisture out of her eyes. “Maggie the summer just…. flew by.” She explains, trying to make sense of her own feelings. “And I….still feel like….why do I still feel like this?”

Maggie’s heart breaks at the tone of her voice. Tiny and pleading and desperate.

“Amelia, I love you. And I want to be here for you. But you have to let me. You have to answer my texts, my calls.….”

Maggie trails off, waiting for the brunette to interject, or for her to at least make eye contact. When she doesn’t offer any evidence that she’s listening, Maggie continues.

“Amelia, you can’t ignore the fact that they come home this week.”

Amelia’s eyes snap to hers and she nods, because she knows Maggie’s right. She’s been so wrapped up in this upcoming spinal surgery that she’s been refusing to process the fact that Link and Scout will be returning back home, to this household, any day now.

“I know, I…” Amelia sucks in a breath, glancing at the ceiling as she gathers her thoughts. “I just, I….gave myself all of this time. This entire summer...to think. And, and to….figure out how I feel and…”

She trails off and Maggie nods at her, encouraging her to continue.

“I didn’t figure any of it out,” she laughs bitterly. But there’s no humor in her words. The tears springing to her eyes provide a stark contrast. “And now they’re coming home and I don’t even know what we are.”

“You’re still a family,” Maggie offers, in a guarded whisper.

“Maggie he left,” Amelia’s voice cracks on the statement.

“Amelia…” Maggie frowns slightly at this, but ensures that the reality of her next words don’t sound harsh. “Amelia, if I can remember….you told him to go.”

“But I didn’t think he would listen!” The brunette yells harshly back, and the slight outburst surprises both of them.

“Sorry,” Amelia continues, an octave lower. “Yes, I told him to go. And yes….he went. And then…” her voice cracks itself even more and it’s heartbreaking to hear. “Maggie I made it so much worse. I let this happen. I...I created this distance and he went along with it and, and now,” the tears are openly rolling down her cheeks now. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

“I know it’s hard. I know.” Maggie reaches across the table for Amelia’s hand. “But it’s going to be okay.”

“I haven’t really spoken with him in months.”

“You FaceTime with Scout almost every day,” Maggie frowns.

“I mean Link,” she shudders slightly at the realization that she’s distanced herself completely. She makes time for Scout with every free moment she has. But when it comes to Link, and every time he’s asked to talk, just the two of them, she’s made up some excuse about surgery and how she has to prepare for her upcoming spinal cord tumor case.

“It’s going to be okay,” Maggie interrupts her thoughts.

“How can you say that?” Amelia questions, under her breath.

“Because you are going to get through this, okay?” She stares at Amelia until she finally agrees.

“Okay.”

“Good,” Maggie gives her hand a squeeze. “How about some pancakes?”

And Amelia finally smiles.

“I’m going to make you pancakes even though it’s…” She trails off, glancing at her watch. “Closer to dinner time now. And then,” She locks eyes with her sister pointedly. “We are going to clean this house up. Mkay?”

“Okay,” Amelia whispers, a genuine smile still waving across her features.

_______

She’s been preparing for the sound of his car in the driveway all day but when the distinct sound fills her ears, she’s still not ready. She sucks in a breath as she hears the car doors slamming shut. And the sound of her son’s cheerful voice, taking in how much more full and lively it sounds in person, compared to through the phone. The distant sound of Scout’s laugh from the driveway makes her heart swell and she still doesn’t feel prepared.

She occupies her mind by tidying up the living room. She folds a blanket while she listens to their voices get closer, as they approach the front porch. There’s not much else to do that can distract her from this moment. Or to slow it down. Because Maggie had already ensured that this house was spotless. And now Amelia has nothing to do with her hands except wring them together anxiously until the front door is swinging open.

And when it does her breath catches in her throat.

Because her baby is home and now he’s running towards her full force, without any inclination of her nervousness.

“Mommy!” Scout cries out as he leaps towards her, and at the same time Amelia is bending down and scooping him up into her arms. She squeezes him tight, her palm resting at the back of his head as she brings it to her chest, her head lowering to the top of his to inhale his presence completely.

“I missed you so much, baby,” she breathes, swaying back and forth and running her fingers through his dirty blonde hair.

Link stands in the doorway to the living room, a suitcase in each hand as he smiles at the sight in front of him. It’s an uncertain smile. One that doesn’t feel like it knows it’s place.

Amelia sets Scout down and Scout is immediately babbling to her in full force about the trip. He explains excitedly about the playoff games and how ‘Dad fixed all their bones’ and how they ‘won all the games because of their new bones.’

Amelia smiles tightly, too overwhelmed to even keep up with her son’s stories. Too overwhelmed because she can’t believe he’s even here, in front of her. She crouches down to be equal to Scout’s height, squeezing his shoulders and just taking in his face as he stands in front of her.

“Oh, wait!” Scout yells enthusiastically. “We brought you something!”

Scout runs towards his Dad and Amelia finally takes a moment to glance in Link’s direction. The uncertainty on his face mirrors her own. But then Link looks away from her, as their son approaches him. He’s reaches into their luggage, handing something to Scout. Scout takes it and runs back to Amelia, where she’s still kneeling at Scout’s height in the middle of the room.

He excitedly hands her something and Amelia looks down at it. It’s a baseball. She chuckles and turns it over in her hands.

“That’s my ball, Mom,” Scout explains. “I got to throw the first pitch at the last game! I did! And that’s the ball that I threw!”

Amelia laughs wholeheartedly at her son as he bounces up and down with excitement.

“And look!” Scout points towards the baseball. “I signed it for you too!”

Amelia turns the ball over to see that Scout did, in fact, write his own name across it in permanent marker. The grin that crosses her features feels foregin, like she hasn’t smiled so genuinely like this in months. She doesn’t realize the tears that are springing to her eyes until Scout points them out.

“Mommy, are you crying?”

She wipes under her eyes quickly and laughs. “No, sweetie. I’m not crying.”

“Did I make you sad?” Scout looks genuinely concerned.

“No, no,” Amelia pulls Scout into her arms again, sighing deeply. “I’m just so happy to see you.”

Scout starts to squirm in her tight embrace and Amelia finally pulls away, taking another deep breath.

“Aren’t you going to hug Daddy, too?”

Amelia’s heart sinks at the question. She glances at Link, who still stands near the front hallway, where he’s been organizing their luggage. He awkwardly runs a hand through his hair.

Amelia stands on shaky feet, biting her lip. And then she feels a small hand wrap around her wrist, and she’s being pulled lightly across the room.

She doesn’t fight it. She let’s Scout pull her toward the front door. And then she’s standing right in front of Link. And the eye contact is making her heart race.

Scout stands between them, head shifting back and forth as he looks at each of them in question.

“You guys are acting funny.”

Amelia chuckles. And the look Link gives her represents both of their surprise at their son’s own wit.

Link shrugs. And then he’s giving Amelia another deliberate expression, as if he’s warning her that he’s about to make this decision for the both of them.

He reaches forward and pulls her into a hug, and Amelia gasps into his chest. His arms wrap around her shoulders and hers automatically go to his sides.

Her pulse quickens as she inhales his scent. She hasn’t had any contact like this in months and it feels so out of her realm.

“You good?” Amelia barely hears him mumble into her hairline. It’s quiet enough that Scout doesn’t hear it.

Amelia nods into his chest and steps out of his embrace, dropping her hands away from his sides and watching his face fall.

She rips her gaze away from him and turns her attention to their son standing between them, smiling tightly. “Why don’t you put your stuff away, Scout?”

“Yeah, bud,” Link chimes in. “We have a lot of stuff to unload. Let’s leave your Mom alone for a minute.”

Scout nods, following after his Dad as he moves towards their pile of luggage. Link hands Scout a duffle bag before he fills his own arms with what he can carry.

Amelia watches on as the two climb the stairs, Scout chatting again about practicing his baseball pitch. She stifles a laugh at her son’s ability to fill each moment with words. He had to have gotten that trait from her.

She stands alone in the front hallway and glances upwards as she pays attention to their movement upstairs. She can hear Scout’s quick movements in his own bedroom. And she can hear footsteps enter the other bedroom, their bedroom, too. Luggage gets set down heavily above and Amelia swears she can hear Link’s sigh even from a floor apart. And in a way, she mirrors the tired sound, exhaling slowly.

_______

Amelia blinks heavily as she sits at the kitchen table, she tears her eyes away from the notes in front of her to glance at the clock. 11pm.

The coffee in her hands should help her stay awake for at least 3 more hours. She’s been staring at the same scans on her laptop for what feels like forever. The updated spinal cord scans don’t exactly provide her with any inclination of how to move forward in her tumor removal approach and she groans impatiently.

“Scout’s finally asleep,” Link’s voice completely startles her as he rounds the corner into the kitchen and she almost drops her coffee. “Oh, sorry,” he mumbles.

Amelia watches him as he moves about the kitchen, preparing himself a tea.

“It’s hard to get him to stop talking sometimes,” Link adds. “He basically talks himself to sleep.”

“I know how that goes,” Amelia mumbles, thinking about the amount of times Link has teased her for falling asleep literally mid-sentence.

Link takes in Amelia’s current position, hunched over at the table surrounded by scans and notes and halfway consumed caffeine.

“Gonna be a long night for you?” He questions.

“Uh, yeah.” Amelia glances away from her work momentarily. “I just got these updated scans and I….I have to re-think everything basically,” she bites her lip out of habit. “So yeah, basically a long night for me.”

Link nods slowly. He knew she had a lot on her plate right now, but he didn’t exactly know the extent of it.

“You should get some sleep,” Amelia adds. “You’ve been travelling all day.”

“Yeah, I was going to,” He glances toward the stairs, thinking about bed. Their bed. The bed he hasn’t been in for over a year now. “I was going to head up there.”

Amelia just nods. Not sure what else to say.

“You going to be okay down here? Need anything?” Link glances at the disorganized mess that is the kitchen table.

“Yeah, yeah,” Amelia quickly responds. “I’m good, I just….really need to focus.”

“Right,” Link mutters, moving towards the doorway with his tea in his hands. “Okay.” He takes one final look at Amelia before he exits the kitchen and she meets his eyes respectfully.

“Okay,” she offers back. She turns back to the notes in front of her and holds her gaze there until she hears the sounds of Link’s footsteps ascending the stairs.

_______

The first thing Link thinks when he wakes up the next morning is that he’s way too comfortable. He’s not used to this bed anymore and the mattress feels way too soft. He’s way too comfortable and the bed feels way too big. And that’s because it’s mostly empty. The space beside him is cold and bare and he clutches the emptiness before rolling over completely.

He frowns as he rests his feet on the floor, standing up and throwing a sweatshirt on as the morning chill hits his body.

He’s still blinking the sleep from his eyes as he descends the stairs, turning the corner into the living room.

When his eyes finally focus, they land on Amelia. Where she’s passed out, sound asleep on the couch. She’s still wearing the clothes she’d worn yesterday, like all she had done was move from the kitchen table to the couch at some point last night without getting ready for bed.

Link grimaces at the idea that she hadn’t come upstairs to her own bedroom to get ready for sleep. The frown deepens as he tries to push away the thought that it was because of him. His fault that she was down here on the couch and he was up there in a too big and too comfortable bed. He walks forward, and a shiver takes over his body. The early September air already unbearable.

When he reaches the couch he leans forward and grabs a blanket from the corner. He drapes it over Amelia as she sleeps and she doesn’t even stir at the slight disruption.

Link only watches her sleep for another moment before he backs away, uncertain where to go next.

_______