#upon my return i better fucking see some good stuff on tumblr.

[silverwarewolf]

fuck everything

[therealvinelle]

I've always wondered this, but what do you think the Cullen's political viewpoints would be, given their individual backgrounds? if vampires don't change after they turn, then surely they would all be extremely racist (especially Jasper). would this not come up at some point? they aren't like the Volturi because the Volturi are too old to care, but the Cullens are young enough that they have been brought up with opinions on stuff like sexism, racism, homophobia and the like.

Oh fuck.

You get an early answer because otherwise I'll just chicken out and delete this one, pretend I never saw it.

UMMM.

Since I'm guessing you meant American political viewpoints, we need a disclaimer. I am not American, and not too knowledgeable about your politics. Not just in the sense that I don't follow the day-to-day drama, but as I am not an American citizen there are several things I don't know, can't know because I've never lived in your country and therefore can't know what the effects of living in a country ruled by American policies is like. What I do know is based off of the news in the foreign section, social media (by which I mean tumblr posts), and Trevor Noah's Daily Show.

I am an outsider looking in.

Which is really rather appropriate, since the Cullens are too.

The Cullens go to high school and college, Carlisle works, they pay taxes, they own real estate, and submerge themselves in American culture. Esme, Edward, Rosalie, Emmett, and Bella are young enough that this is in many ways their world, and apart from timeouts they've more or less spent their entire lives, human and vampire, integrated into American society.

Not fully integrated, mind you, they do what they need to to fit in and get to school or, in Carlisle’s case, to work. They go no further. No extra-curriculars for the kids, no book clubs for Esme, no game nights for Carlisle. They walk parallel to humans, not among us.

In addition to this they're obscenely rich, which puts them another thousand miles from the experiences of your average American. They won't deal with the health system, which means healthcare is a non-issue, they're not going to need welfare or other social programs, unemployment is another non-issue. Name your issue, and the Cullens don't have personal stake in it. Even the climate crisis won't be a problem for them the way it will for us.

What I'm trying to say is, American political issues are a concept to them, not a lived reality. Just like they are for me. So hey, you made a great choice of blog to ask.

I'll also add here that you say the Volturi are too old to care, and I agree- from an ancient's point of view, racism is a matter of "which ethnicity are we hating today?", and it all looks rather arbitrary after a while. Same with every other issue - after a while it all just blends together into "what are the humans fighting over today? Which Christian denomination is the correct one? Huh. Good for them, I guess."

I can't put it any better than this post did, really. The Volturi are real people, humans are nerds and tumblr having Loki discourse. Aro thinks it's delightful and knows entirely too much about Watergate (and let's be real, Loki discourse as well), but the point I wanted to get at is that politics really don't matter to vampires.

And I don't think they matter to the Cullens either.

So, moving on to the next point while regretting I didn't put headlines in this post, I'll just state that I don't think vampires' minds are frozen. Their brains are unable to develop further, and they can never forget anything, but... well, this isn't the post for that, but in order for this to be true of vampires they would barely be sentient. They would not be able to process new impressions, to learn new things, nor to have an independent thought process. Yes, we see vampires in-universe (namely, Edward, who romanticizes himself and vampires) believe they're frozen and can never change, but there is no indication that this is a widespread belief, or even true. Quite the contrary - Carlisle went from a preacher's son who wanted to burn all the demons to living in Demon Capital for decades and then becoming a doctor and making a whole family of demons. Clearly, the guy has had a change in attitude over the years. Jasper, in his years as a newborn army general, slowly grew disenchanted with his life and developed depression. James initially meant to kill Victoria and hunted her across the earth, then became fascinated and changed his mind about it.

Had these people been incapable of change, Carlisle would still be hating demons, Jasper would be in Maria's army, and James would still be hunting Victoria.

It goes to follow, then, that they are able to adapt to new things.

The question is, would they?

Here I finally answer your question.

So, we have these people who don't really have any kind of stake in politics, who keep up to date all the same (or are forcibly kept up to date because high school) and are generally opinionated people.

Where do they then fall, politically?

(And this is where you might want to stop reading, anon, because I'm about to eviscerate these people.)

Alice votes for whoever's gonna win. She also makes a fortune off of betting each election. Trump's 1 to 10 victory in 2016 was a great day to be Alice. MAGA!

The actual policies involved are completely irrelevant, she does this because it's fun. Election means she gets to throw parties. Color coded parties for the Republican and Democratic primaries, and US-themed parties for Election Night! (Foreigner moment right here: I at first wrote "Election wake" before realizing that's not what y'all murricans call it.)

Alice loves politics. Doesn't know the issues, but she sure loves politics.

Bella votes Democrat. She actually knows about the issues, and cares about them. This girl is a Democrat through and through.

Carlisle doesn't vote. I can't imagine it feels right. Outside of faked papers he's not a US citizen, this is meddling in human affairs that he knows don't concern him.

More, this guy has never lived in a democracy.

In life, Carlisle lived under an absolute monarchy that, upon civil war, became an absolute theocracy. From there he learned that vampires live under a total dictatorship.

For the first 150 years of his life, democracy was that funky thing the Athenians did in history books thousands of years ago, no more relevant to him than the Ancient Egyptian monarchy is to me. Then the Americans, and later other European countries started doing this.

Good for them.

There's this mistake often made by those who view history from a... for lack of a better term, a solipsistic standpoint. A belief that the present day is the culmination of all of history. “My society is the best society, the most reasonable society; all the others had it backwards. Thank god we’re living in this enlightened age!”

The faith in our current system of government is one such belief. We (pardon me if this doesn’t apply to everybody reading this post) have grown up in democracies, being told this is the ultimate form of rule, and perhaps that is true - but remember the kings who have told their subjects they had were divine and the best possible ruler based on that. Remember also that most modern democracies haven’t actually been democracies for very long at all, America is the longest standing at some 230 years (not long at all in the grand scope of things) and they have a fracturing two-party system to show for it.

Every society, ever, has been told they’re the greatest, and their system of government the most just. Democracy is only the latest hit.

This is relevant to Carlisle because he’s immortal and decidedly not modern. Democracy has not been installed in him the way it was the rest of the Cullens, Jasper included. To him- well, it’s just not his world. He has no stakes in our human politics, and as he is older than every current democracy and has seen quite a few of them fall, he’s not going to internalize the democratic form of rule the way a modern human has.

I think the concept of voting is foreign to him.

It requires a level of participation in human society that he’s simply not at. He does the bare minimum to appear human so he do the work he loves, but nothing more, and I find that telling.

As it is I think he'd be iffy about his family doing it. He won’t stop them, but in voting they’re... well it’s kind of cheating. They’re not really citizens, none of this will affect them, and by voting they’re drowning out the votes of real human voters. He does not approve.

Edward votes Democrat. He's... well he’s the kind of guy who will oil a girl’s bedroom window so he can more easily watch her sleep without being discovered, justifying it to himself as being okay because if she were to tell him to get lost he’d stop immediately. Same guy is so sure that he’d leave and never return again if she wanted him to, except this is the man who returned to Forks to hang around his singer, knowing there was a significant chance he might kill her. To say nothing of his Madonna/Whore complex, or of the fact that he tried to pimp out his wife twice, and was willing to forcibly abort her child.

This guy is very much in love with chivalry, with being an enlightened and feminist man who supports and respects women, while not understanding the entire point of feminism, which is female liberation.

He votes Democrat because he’s such an enlightened feminist who cares about women’s rights.

Emmett doesn’t care to vote, but if he has to he votes Republican. The guy is from the 1930′s, and has major would-be-the-uncle-who-cracks-racist-jokes-if-he-was-older vibes.

Esme doesn’t vote, that would require getting out of the house.

More, I just... can’t see it. I can’t see her being one to read up on politics and The Issues, period, but if she has to then I doubt she’d be able to decide.

Jasper doesn’t vote. Alice can have her fun, he does not care.

There’s also the whole can of worms regarding the last time he went to bat for American politics.

I imagine he stays out of this.

Renesmée doesn't vote. She has no stock in the human affairs. Who would she vote for, on what grounds? When Bella tries to pull her to the urns, she points out that she's three years old.

Rosalie, guys, I’m sorry, but that girl is definitely gonna vote Republican. Perhaps not right now as it’s become the Trump party of insanity, but the Mitt Romney type of Republicans? Oh yes.

And for the record, yes I imagine she does vote. To step back from politics would be another way she was relinquishing her humanity, and that’s not allowed to happen. So, yes, she goes to the urns, less for the sake of the politics involved and more because like this, she’s still a part of society in some way.

Now, onto why I think she’s Republican, I think it’s both fiscal and social.

This girl was the daughter of a banker who somehow profited off of the Depression, and who then became part of a family with no material needs that would soon become billionaires thanks to Alice. Poverty to Rosalie is a non-issue, as it is I imagine she views it as a much lesser issue than what she’s had to deal with. The humans can pull themselves up by their bootstraps, Rosalie’s infertility is forever.

Rosalie’s empathy is strongest when she’s able to project onto others, and she won’t be able to project onto the less fortunate at all.

Then there’s the fact that the Republican party is all about traditional family values, and pro-life.

Rosalie, a woman from the 1930′s who idolizes her human life and who‘d love nothing more than to get to live out this fantasy, is down for that. And as of Breaking Dawn she’s vocally pro-life, so there’s that.

This all being said I don’t think Rosalie cares to sit down and fully understand these politics she’s voting for, the possible impact they’ll have- that’s not important. What’s important is what voting does for her.

TL;DR: I bet anon regrets asking.

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

Submission

Hey there, long time no see!

I've been dipping in and out of Tumblr the last couple of weeks and have been keeping up with all your interesting discussions with anons (sorry, stalkerish I know, but I find it both insightful and entertaining.) I couldn't help but notice @just-a-poor-boy-queen posted about our good old friend on Instagram spouting her usual bullshit, only this time she apparently has proof that her claims are real from Lying Ass Jerkoff , sorry, Lesley Ann Jones' latest book. According to her, as you already know, she claims that Lesley denounces Jim and Freddie's relationship and Jim apparently confessed to her that he never loved Freddie, that he used him for fame, etc. etc.

Which is...very interesting. Because LAJ's biography, Bohemian Rhapsody, claims the exact opposite.

While I was out in town today, I visited my local bookstore and unintentionally stumbled across the book in the biography section. My first instinct was to ignore it - I know for a fact it's trash - but curiosity got the better of me and I ended up having a flip through.

First off, the amount of stuff she gets wrong is hilarious. Some of them were minute errors, others the average Queen fan could tell you is fake. I'm pretty sure she talked about Freddie taking Princess Diana out in drag and the party with the midgets carrying bowls of cocaine on their heads, which we know never happened. There was also a picture of Freddie and Mary (one where Freddie is leaning on Mary while she's smoking a cigarette,) that was captioned "the happy couple relaxing together," which made me laugh out loud because it was allegedly taken in 1975 when Freddie was dating David behind Mary's back. Relationship goals, ammirite?

And don't get me started on the Barbara stuff, I stg, LAJ seems low-key obsessed with her.

Anyway, I ended up skipping to the end where she talks about Jim; she does indeed claim that she stayed with him in Carlow (not sure what year,) and that she interviewed him while she was there. This is what she had to say:

On Jim's motivation for writing M&M: (Jones) "Jim Hutton later explained that it was anger, not money, that prompted him to write his memoir. He wanted the world to know the truth, and could see no other way."

(Jones) "There is no doubt that Jim, the bereft lover, embarked upon his selective 1994 biography with the intention of creating a tender tribute to an adored partner. This was blurred by a co-writer who dwelled more on sensational aspects of the relationship, as well as on intimate details of Freddie's final days."

(Jones) "Given Jim's Catholic background, and the fact that his mother was still alive when he published, it must have taken immense courage to write the book."

About the GL boys being erased by Jim Beach: (Jim) "I think Jim Beach was angry that my book ruined the myth of Freddie. All it did was return him to his original status of a human being. It told the truth. Beach wanted fans to believe that sweet Mary Austin was the love of Freddie's life, and what a great, tragic, romantic tale it all was."

(Jones) "Jim was consequently banished from the Queen camp." (She goes on to explain it's likely because everyone was grieving, but I don't buy it.)

(Jones) "Freddie's will raised countless questions, some of which would never be resolved." (I thought this was interesting, given that I've seen speculation that Freddie might have been influenced over what to put in his will before.)

On Dave Clark: (Jones) "The press reported that Dave Clark had said he was the only person in the bedroom when Freddie died. 'He was not the only person in the room,' Jim stated. 'But it was quoted all over the place.' The error must have been perturbed the sensitive and caring Clark, for on his birthday, Jim received a beautiful card from him. 'The inscription he wrote inside read "you were there.' " (Jim goes on to recount the exact same version of events written in Mercury & Me about Freddie's death. He speaks highly of Clark, saying he was brilliant when Freddie was ill and would sit with him for hours. Jim seems more angry at the press spreading lies than at Dave himself. I've seen people argue that Dave was the one spreading the rumours to the paper or he did nothing to refute them, but who knows, perhaps he was a victim of the tabloids too.)

Phoebe testifying to Jim's character: (Phoebe) "Those concerned have to live with themselves. Mary once said of Jim that he had 'a very vivid imagination.' I knew Jim a very long time, and never knew him to be anything other than totally honest. Jim's conscience, like mine, will always be clear." (Given how Phoebe now makes a point of saying that Jim "exaggerated" stuff in his book, I find this a tad hypocritical. Still, I appreciate him sticking up for Jim and saying that those who are trying to change Freddie's legacy will have to live with that on their conscience. Also, fuck you Mary, if you did say that about Jim.)

On Jim's love for Freddie: (Jones) "There are still times when I can be pottering around in the garden, and Freddie's facial expression when he died will come into my mind," he told me in Ireland, "I can blank out what happened consciously but not subconsciously. It is impossible to forget. I learned so much from him, not least a positive outlook. Freddie's attitude was always, 'But you can, don't you see? You can do it. Put your mind to it, you'll see what you can do' That was one of the loveliest things about him."

(Jones) "During the time I spent with Jim in picturesque County Carlow, there was no doubt that the love Jim claimed to have felt for Freddie was genuine. He was a warm and decent man who was content with his lot. He was eternally grateful, he told me, for having experienced the superstar lifestyle through Freddie."

(Jones) "Jim would never truly recover from the loss."

I took screenshots of all the quotes above, which I'm happy to submit if anyone is interested. I would love to have seen what else she said about Jim, but taking pictures of book pages in the middle of a shop isn't the best look, so I kept it brief. 

So, overall, Lesley seems to have a very high opinion of Jim, and believed the love between he and Freddie was genuine. Which is quite surprising, given that she downplays all of Freddie's other relationships with men in favour of promoting his fictional "romance" with Miss Valentin. Of course, this could all be complete bullshit and she never met Jim at all, but if she is telling the truth for once in her life, then she's one of few biographers who was very much supportive of Jimercury.

As one of the anons correctly stated, we have two possible scenarios.

A) If crazy lady is telling the truth, and Jones does make all these negative claims about Jim in her new book, then she was either lying in Bohemian Rhapsody or she's lying now in her latest cash cow. In this scenario, she's a liar either way. But tell us something we don't know.

B) Crazy Lady is pretending to have read the book, or read it and was angry there was nothing bad about Jim, and is fabricating quotes to suit her anti-Jim agenda, knowing her thick-as-bricks followers will just take her word for it and not bother looking for evidence. This is the most likely scenario. 

I know most people with a brain know not to trust the word of either of these women, but I thought it would be fun to dismantle some of Insta lady's claims regardless, in case there was anyone out there having doubts.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

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

Hi there! It's good to see you again.

This...is a lot to think about lol. Since LAJ is such a liar, it's hard to believe she really sat down with Jim, or that most of what she said was from primary sources. However, it is strange that she spoke so highly of Jim given...everything else she's ever said lol. The quotes above do fit with what other people have said about Jim and Garden Lodge as a whole, though. It's very strange because it's either she decided to be factual with this, or lie about getting these quotes but decide to stick up for Jim, anyway. Weird, weird, weird.

It's really hard to know who's lying in the new book, LAJ or the hater lady. They're both so unreliable. It does seem too convenient that what LAJ supposedly says lines up with the hater lady rhetoric, but idk. Apparently LAJ blocked the hater lady on twitter, too lmao. So maybe it's the hater lady who's lying? But I can believe LAJ suddenly changing her tune, too.

I don't know. Thank you for sharing this information. I have more questions than answers now lol but still

[camxlots-retxrn]

.. also 🧣?? I need some recs and am curious ab what you like so- ahhshs

🧣 ~ merlin fanfic suggestion i have so many

YES I HAVE SO MANY I have folders upon folders of bookmarks so here are just 6 of my favorite in no particular order :)

btw most of these are merthur! i think some of them are up to interpretation, but I’ve a horrid memory so I can’t recall which akjdkskd

An Ox on the Tongue by seapotato - 21.7k, teen & up

Not for the first time Merlin wondered if he'd been doing too good a job saving Arthur's princely hide. This time, it's because Merlin had realized, belatedly, that the assassination attempt targeted him, not Arthur.

this is in my top fanfics ever. one of my favorite lines from it is, “[H]is magic hummed through him, steady and almost happy, the way it always did when he used it for Arthur.” LIKE AHh beautiful it literally reads like an actual novel

/|\

the scent of rain by TheCourtSorcerer - 410, teen & up

Merlin closed his eyes as the rain splashed against his skin. The cold dripping water wetting his hair, soaking his clothes… He loved it.

He sat back in his patio chair, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back, baring his neck as he faced skyward. He knew he shouldn’t be outside. He should be in, tucked into bed, where it was warm…

this one is just so sweet!! merlin loves the rain & it’s because of this fic that I added that to my headcanons list <3 it’s domestic!! seriously adore it :’)))

/|\

Between by Emachinestcat - 3.6k, teen & up

When Uther finds out about Merlin’s magic, Arthur has already known for some time – and Arthur has no intention of letting his father kill his servant. Written for Febuwhump on Tumblr. Day 17: identity reveal

this one just has a beautiful depiction of the whole “two sides of the same coin” thing. much of Merlin & Arthur being protective of one another (+ Uther getting told off a bit)

/|\

Finding Home by riventhorn - 7.8k, explicit, translations available into Français by Aconit

Written for a kinkme_merlin prompt. When Gaius retires a new physician takes over and quickly kicks Merlin out of his room and takes it for himself. Arthur finds Merlin sleeping in the stables...and it's winter.

much angst much whump much Supportive Arthur(tm) it’s all very lovely :’)

/|\

When You Know, You Know by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle - 4.4k, teen & up

"You can take Daisy out to fetch the cloak-"

"How do you know that?"

Arthur closed his eyes, expression riddled with irritation before turning to look at Merlin expectantly.

"Know what?"

“The mare I use. You know I call her Daisy? I never told you that." Merlin explained. Arthur stared for a few moments. He could see the flicker of emotions pass easily over him. Anger, annoyance, exasperation, indignance, and finally acceptance...AKA the Five Stages of Grief (Pendragon Edition).

"You talk to the horse.” He pointed out. Merlin narrowed his eyes.

“I whisper to the horse.”

"...am I supposed to not hear it?” Arthur asked. Merlin wondered how likely it would be that he also heard him whispering magical spells if he heard him murmuring to the bloody horse. “Also, only you would choose such a ridiculous name.” He muttered. Merlin swallowed. This wasn't a problem at all, right? Right.

Or

Merlin knows Arthur well. Better than he knew himself apparently. What he hadn't expected was for Arthur to know his servant just as well... This causes problems. (also known as "The Time Merlin Had a Mental Breakdown Over Arthur Being a Normal Human")

I honestly read this a long time ago so can’t recall the finer details, but big “two halves of a whole” energy in this one. love it :)

/|\

andddd finally my favorite long fic ever-

and like the cycle of the year, we begin again by kathrynefromphilly - 200k, mature

Set after the Merlin Series 5 Finale "Diamond of the Day". Canon Compliant. In Character. Arthur Pendragon Returns.

———

For many long years Merlin waited.

For the other part of his soul, for the other half of his life. He was born to serve Arthur. So that meant he was also born to wait. Even if it took a thousand years. Even if the wait seemed never to end.

Until one day, suddenly, it did.

When Arthur stumbles from the Lake of Avalon 1,500 years after his death, he finds a world unlike the one he knew. Faced with the loss of everyone he loved, and the threat of impending prophecy, Arthur must learn what it means to be not just a king, but the Once and Future King. Merlin does all he can to guide him, even as he struggles to hide his love for his king, and his fear of losing him again.

Story includes sass, banter, horseplay, & True Love.

words can’t describe this fic & honestly anyone who ships Arthur & Merlin h a s to read this at some point. I don’t usually read long fics (this was the last long fic I read, and that was last year..) but I blew through this in two days. i literally fucked up my grades because I neglected school so much & it took like two weeks to get back to normal & I don’t regret it bahaha

apologies this is so long bahahah, but I hope it’s satisfactory! author’s like TheCourtSorcerer (who’s lovely blog is @tcs-main!), seapotato, & platonic_boner are brilliant author’s so you can really just page through their works for more stuff to read! (that isn’t to say the other listed author’s don’t have more lovely content, I just haven’t looked yet!)

honestly I have a lot of recs so I’ve been considering putting together an actual formal list akfjksfj

from my 100 Followers Celebration

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Feral Fatality

(Part 1)

So this has been in my works for a week now. You see, it was a typical day for me scrolling through Tumblr and visiting some....tags, and then a short drabble inspired me to write about a feral reader totally not because I was craving violence and murder no, which reached more than 4k words on the first draft so here we are! Shitty title, I know. The proofread work went over 7k, and it's not even finished yet. Once I'm done posting this and my main orc fic, I will get into the requests so please be patient!

Pairing: Jason Voorhees x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Brief blood and violence at the end of the first part

Contains: Swearing, mentions of neglect and abuse (not graphic)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

-

Screams slit through the twilight as the frigid autumn wind blew harshly through the trees of Camp Crystal Lake. The rustling of bushes and cracking of twigs echoed as foolish teenagers attempted to escape, running for their lives when they were the ones who dared step foot in the place, tarnishing it with their sins.

Jason Voorhees, the innocent kid who died several years ago; pushed to the lake by his bullies and left to drown for being different and unsightly— all because the counselors were busy with their fucking business—, returned as an undead killing machine right after his mother murdered them and died. His sole purpose: to protect the land and purge the people who had no right to be here, sentencing them to a horrendous death.

One by one, they struck the ground, lifeless, either chopped into pieces, beheaded, or stabbed countless times by his trusty machete.

Limbs...ripped off with his bare hands.

-

The muffled snapping of branches reached your ears as the vehicle's wheels ran over them, stirring you from your nap. You rubbed your chilled skin under your clothes as you looked out of the window, thumping your forehead on the glass when you leaned forward the moment you saw the scenery. Trees, both ancient and young, their leaves varying in hues of green, orange and red, filled your line of sight. It was still early in autumn, your favorite time of the year, not hot but not too cold either. You watched in awe as the warm-colored leaves cascaded down from the branches and down to the ground, some carried by the wind farther from their origin.

The view did its best to distract you from a couple in session a seat before yours. They always seem to do that all the time, regardless of place or occasion.

This was a week-long getaway after graduation, they said.

Nothing but a white lie.

An excuse for the girls to hook up with their campus crushes, a week of fucking and smoking drugs.

You, however, just got invited —forced— by your "friend" Eloiza, the self-proclaimed hottest girl in the entire school, typical captain of the cheerleading squad; blonde and curvy. Her words were much too sugar-coated that even a deaf person could tell she had ulterior motives.

She only planned to use you as a tool to raise her fame. A stepping stone for her own gain.

That wasn't the only reason though.

Everyone knew who you were, but only by your name. News and rumors alike spread like wildfire through gossipy mouths. Your deeds were known throughout campus.

(Y/N)(L/N), top academic competitor and multiple-award winner, a straight-A student for five years in succession. Some believed you were a genius, the rest called you insane.

You wouldn't call yourself a genius though, you did not possess the obsessive need to acquire eternal knowledge and discover the secrets of the universe as most of them do, to effortlessly solve every problem that comes their way.

If that were the case, then you wouldn't be here in the first place.

You only love learning and indulging in the beauty of Mother Nature, plus a handful of hyper-fixations.

Fine, a buttload of hyper-fixations. And such came in handy in various situations.

You were unrivaled, not one of your peers could come close to your level of wit. Many people wished to have a brain like yours, and just as many hated you for even having one, praised you just as much as slandered your name and judged you.

Despite your reputation, the poor school didn't broadcast it, at least every time. The staff probably got tired of repeating the same phrase over and over again. Which caused more than half of the whole campus to never believe you to be the one behind all of that, laughing at your face when you said your name.

"You? The (Y/N) (L/N)? Ha! As if I'd fall for that! Everyone knows how she looks. You're the absolute opposite!"

"You got to be kidding me."

"You're a joker, aren't you? Is this a prank? If so please stop it, don't pretend like you're her."

Yep, and it goes on and on and on. They were right, you didn't look like someone who would win contests or excel in class.

You constantly wore clothes that hid your form, silent unless spoken to or asked to answer, distant and reserved, you preferred the company of books and nature to the rowdiness and prying hands of humans. A sociopath they deemed you. Quite an extreme word to use when you simply wanted to enjoy the only things that made you happy in this living hell.

You only know a handful of people who approached you first-hand and praised you genuinely, even asking for an autograph, which really surprised you.

Yet, they would never understand you even if you explained, because you can't, words evade you when it comes down to voice out what you feel. Even if you can, no one would care. And even if they did? You doubt it was real. Everyone wants to use you, and they seem to believe you'd let them. You didn't trust anyone. The last time you did only left you sobbing on the dirt.

You wanted to be left alone.

To connect with nature and get as far away as possible from your parents. Parents who kept shouting profanities at each other, the main cause for your depression and anxiety levels to skyrocket, the shaking turning into trembling, 7 hours of sleep to barely a blink.

That's why you agreed to go in the first place.

You hated your household—despised it— a mess of broken shards of bottles and ceramics littered your kitchen floor more often than not. You didn't bother cleaning it up anymore, your mother would just waste away her money on more things to break and throw them at your joke of a father when they fought anyway.

Not only that, you thought...No, you believed if you worked hard to be the best and win countless competitions, your parents would give you recognition and reconcile for your sake, but no, no, no. They didn't care one bit about you or your medals, it was as if you were never even included in their lives at all. Even birthday celebrations ceased to exist in everyone's books after your 13th.

So you gave up.

Down into the void, your wishful thinking went, that they'll become better people over time, that the attention and love you deserve will be given one day. Instead, you wallowed yourself in your studies, besting everyone in everything academic. Oh, but you weren't athletic. Far from it. Damn, you were getting thin and sleep-deprived from being neglected, dark circles under your eyes every time you looked at your reflection. People hating your existence wasn't helping, some teachers even suspected you of cheating.

There's no way in hell you'd let yourself get dragged down to end up like them! You were of legal age now, a fresh graduate from high school, you doubt your parents even knew that since they didn't fucking show up on your graduation day. You were moving out of that shithole of a town. Anywhere is better than where they breathed and spat their poison.

And so here you are. Standing in this breath-taking and mysterious place. Camp Crystal Lake, it is named, secluded, barely touched by modernization as it is hidden between mountains and trees as far as the eye could see. Not to mention its namesake, the lake, you imagined it would mirror the sky, be it day or night. You loved it, you adored the fresh, breathable air that went through you the moment you stepped out of the van.

You also knew about him.

Resolved to never go back to that goddamned house, you took everything you had and needed; the special little trinkets you've collected through the years shoved into a box, the few clothes you had, art materials, and your precious books carefully packed inside a big travel bag, along with your stocked up canned goods, convenience food, snacks, and toiletries.

And other, important things.

You hauled your baggage out of the van and got off, immediately moving to the side and away from everyone.

You got used to people ignoring you that you didn't care anymore.

Why waste your time with them when you can have all of it to yourself?

Eloiza led the group into the larger cabins, the others went straight into the lake for a swim. You even notice some teens disappear into the trees, most likely for a quickie.

In return, you stayed out of their way, fully satisfied being invisible and with your own company as you trudged to a cabin, the one you caught a glimpse of earlier in the van. It was a long way's separated from the rest, closest to the forest and hidden behind a few trees.

You were panting when you finally stopped in front of it, clearly not used to walking long distances and carrying stuff near as heavy as your weight.

Upon closer inspection, you found yourself gaping at its appearance. The wooden walls lost their color as they aged, white and brown mushrooms grew on the ground along with green moss sticking to the beams, and a few vines crawling their way up and on the roof. Despite all of that, the cabin looked sturdy still.

There's this "one with nature" vibe that drew you to it, like a string pulling you closer and inviting you. Ominous most would say, but you almost cried when the rich scent of earth and oxygen filled your lungs as you took one big inhale, sighing in content for once. It was a lot smaller compared to the others, but you didn't care. As long as you were left alone with your stuff you were a-okay.

Perfect.

You turned the knob and peeked inside, letting out a small gasp and opening the door wider to see the whole thing.

Old as it is, it was proper and neat, regardless of the tiny cobwebs on the upper corners. A small, square dining table sat in the middle of the first part of the place, two wooden stools placed underneath. There were cupboards on the wall and a simple sink with an empty space to the side. You went to the next room, doorless and separated with but a wall of thick plywood. It had a single bed in the corner, off-white cotton sheets sitting atop, not a wrinkle in sight. No pillow though. There's a decent-sized closet along with a small table on one side of the bed. One of the windows had a hole in the middle, a ray of sunlight streaming in through the cracks. It was too big for the size of a gunshot, so maybe a rock.

A bit hesitant, your fingers traced the wood, feeling the inconsistent texture. When you went through the back door, your smile reached your ears when trunks of trees and bushes greeted you...

Wait, is that what you think it is?

Stepping closer to the treeline, your jaw dropped when you spotted a thicket of fruit-bearing plants past them, gathered in a tiny clearing.

Blueberries.

Purple little cuties poked out of the green shrubs, sporting a vibrant hue that caught your eye. The sun shone overhead and providing the energy they needed. Blueberries managed to grow in the area despite the trees fencing them.

Tempted and suspicious, you crouched down, inspecting the shrub if it really was a blueberry plant and not a deadly doppelganger. Once you were sure it was, (it would be hilarious if you simply died from nighshade poisoning), you plucked one and brought it to your mouth. It was sweeter than you expected, with a slightly bitter aftertaste. You hummed in delight, wiping the juice with your thumb when it dribbled out, staining your finger and lips.

You didn't want to anger anybody. Hell, coming here was already trespassing, so you didn't push your luck and left it alone, hoping they'd forgive you for picking one. They surely didn't look wild with the way they lined up.

You scanned the rest of the area, eventually going back inside to unpack after your little evaluation.

-

The sun was a hand's away from setting when you finished. Pride swelled in your chest at the work you did, your things stocked and organized with care inside the cabinets and drawers. You won't have to worry about your food for now as cupboards were filled to the brim with them. You also had a decent amount of money left from your savings account that your parents weren't aware of. Prize money, allowance, and the salary you got from doing online jobs all went into it. The camp was a few miles off the road, and a couple more to the nearest gas station with a convenience store. Very far yes, but it's better than living with the people who made you do this in the first place.

You just hoped you wouldn't die walking.

Everything was worth it, anyways. You were free now, at least that's what you think.

You trudged to the bed, eyeing the cushions, wary and a little scared to touch the sheets that appeared to be cleaned just recently, you didn't even lay a finger on them ever since you got inside. Oh, but your tired muscles were screaming to just flump down and relax.

So you did.

You dumped yourself face first and inhaled. It wasn't smelly nor fragrant, just the simple freshness on the cotton fabric. You felt beat but ain't sleepy, yet, so you reached to the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a book to pass the time as you waited for the sun to go down and give way for the moon. Its spine and pages had creases, worn out and yellow-stained from age and use. It was a horror-mystery novel told through a first-person narrative, a story of a middle-aged detective and her Maine coon in their attempts to solve a murder case of a young European lady named Cassandra Chase.

You dozed off in the middle of chapter 21, the part where Dinnie, the cat, discovers a valuable clue to the crime, a rotten limb in the dried basement well.

—

—

Jason settled down on the stairs of his porch; shoulders relaxed and hunched as he leisurely sharpened his machete with a small whetstone. Lines of sunlight kissed him through the leaves of trees, the birds in the area chirped on their perches, and the grass swayed, gentle, as a cool wind passed by.

His day be so fine. No troublemakers to deal wi—

The alarm rang, announcing unwelcomed arrival. As if a switch flipped inside, he's already on his feet, making his way swiftly to their location.

A new batch of wretched youngsters, another day ruined. Hunting them down makes his blood thrum in his veins, yes, but they soured his mood, just when he was at peace. He's dead set on slaughtering them in the most gruesome ways possible, only then he could go back and enjoy the serenity the nature around him brings.

He surveyed the area, camouflaging with the wilderness, silent as he watched and counted the soon-to-be corpses, his mother's voice at the back of his mind, guiding him.

They decided to go either to the main cabins, or the lake...even into the trees.

All but one.

Jason already planned to cut down the couple later as they lose themselves in the forest, doing nasty, dirty things to his camp. The killer shifted his attention to you, curious as to why you didn't join the lot. Instead, you walked back down the road. He followed and saw you approach the small cabin, separated from the rest, your eyes widened...

Adoration?

You were quiet— except for the little gasps of awe you let out in between pants—as you looked around and over the place. The ones you came with were rowdy and destructive, a complete opposite. He hid as he observed you from afar, moving around to adjust his vision on you. You smiled every time you looked to the trees, he noticed.

Why were you smiling like that? Why did you pick this cabin? Were you planning on defiling it?

The last question in his mind made his blood boil. He'll kill you first if that was the case. That cabin you chose was special, it was where he and his mother used to stay. He occasionally visits that one to keep it clean and free of dust. If you even think of—

Jason, sweetie...look closer. She does not have such intentions.

His mother's words rang in his head. Even from where he stood, he could see what you did inside. You looked a little hesitant, touching and drawing back your hand before letting your fingers feel the wood as if it was something delicate. Despite the initial...shyness? You proceeded to make it your home, somewhat, dropping the large duffel bags you carried on your front and back, and a similarly large roller case on your left. It was as if you planned to stay for a long time.

Jason hears you take a long breath and sigh as you went out the backdoor. You grinned wider when you saw the nature around you. You stepped forward, straight in his direction...

For a moment he thought you saw him, seeing your jaw drop. You moved closer, and he just froze there, until you crouched down.

Oh, his plants.

He watched you as you gently picked a fruit, your gaze...soft. You brought it to your mouth, some of the juice spilling on the side and you wiped it with your thumb.

Cute.

You went back inside and continued to unpack your things, carefully maneuvering around the cabin.

Maybe he'll spare you if you continue to be good. You didn't do anything dirty, yet. It's only a matter of time before the camp is shrouded in darkness and his hunt will begin.

Let's see what you'll do before that happens.

-

Jason tracked down the three that went into the forest. He knew the place like the back of his hand, and it was easier to pinpoint them as he heard moans.

What he saw was utmost disgusting, two girls pleasuring a male with their mouths in broad daylight.

Kill them, my boy! Such foul beings need to die! Kill them, kill!

He circled them, steps soundless. Jason gripped his machete and brought it down the guy's neck, embedding the weapon into the bark, the head rolled down, oozing with blood, and fell against the women, drenching them in red. Not a single cry left from their mouths as he sliced both with one swing, blood pouring out of their throats and staining the ground. Jason dragged their bodies and tossed them into a pit he dug beforehand, making quick work in burying them.

A swift end. Now he waits.

[arsenicpanda]

Bughead Appreciation Day 1 Except It’s Day 2

So I spent yesterday nice and cozy in bed and put this off (good choice, tbh, I was very snug as a bug), but now, now comes the time for me to gush about some people in the fandom!  This is definitely not a comprehensive list, I have absolutely left some people out because I am very forgetful, but, in no particular order and under a cut because I’m a wordy bitch:

@tory-b: A delight and a dear, leading writer of monsterfucker!Betty, co-runner of @riverdaleprideandjoyzine, a legend and a friend, we have no choice but to stan.  Her stuff is so good and varied and just *chef’s kiss* a delight, two favorites of mine are Fangs/com/Match (Betty/dragon!Jughead meet via monsterfucker Tinder, has some great friendship moments with Kevin and Veronica and is v sexy and funny, features the horniest Betty) and Sticky Sweet Serenade ((past)-friends-to-enemies-to-lovers bughead, mixes up some statuses in Riverdale, excellent mystery, I remember reading it and going, “holy shit, a believable take on Northside!Jughead”).  I’ve also gotta mention Whats in a Name? (Betty and Jughead meet on tumblr, Betty writes poetry and Jughead is a shitposter, they slowly connect, it’s great) and To Balance the Scales (scientist!Betty/mermaid!Jughead, currently a slow build, I cannot wait for you guys to see the excellent worldbuilding she’s done).  I could keep going, or you could binge all her fics today, an excellent use of your Saturday, I assure you, because I’ve left a lot out.

@stillhidden: Always good for some great thoughts on the show, one of the best reasons for my your thoughts on Riverdale please show them to me tag, I get psyched every time I see a Riverdale text post or ask answer because I know I’m in for a good time.  Thoughtful and funny and nice, what a combo!

@satelliteinasupernova: So talented!  Author, artist, co-runner of @riverdaleprideandjoyzine, funny, haver of good thoughts on Riverdale is there anything she can’t do?  No, there is not.  Every time I see her art I’m like !!!, the colors! how well-drawn the hands are! the accuracy of their hair! the backgrounds! the way I can see the love in their eyes! I cannot even, there are no words.  Also!  Her fics!  So original!  One of my earliest memories in the fandom is reading The town called Riverdale (a sort of mystery about the meta fuckery going down in Riverdale, explores time loops, stories that control lives, the roles the Archie characters are “supposed” to have, a mash-up with concepts in Princess Tutu that requires zero knowledge of Princess Tutu) and going !!! is this a Princess Tutu mash-up?  Have I been #blessed enough to see a mash up between Riverdale, a story that fucks with archetypes, and Princess Tutu, one of the shows about fucking with archetypes and the way stories ontrol lives?  I was and I am and I raved to my non-fandom but Princess Tutu liker friend about it.  Has also wonderfully tackled eldritch horror in return to Eldervair and gothic horror/romance in The Lady of the Manor, does fluff, does angst, does it all, so go check her out!

@go-ldy: An angst and time skip queen, tbh, and always has some great thoughts on Riverdale, another reason I’m glad I have that tag.  Every time she answers an ask, I’m like, “Yesss, incoming Good Thoughts, I am HERE for this”.  But do not sleep on her as an author!  Into the Deep is some delightful dark!bughead, and I’ll walk with you in the shadows is such good time skip angst and a mystery and there’s a certain surprise I love but is a spoiler but you simply must read this, you must.  The Time after Time series is giving us that good angst bughead content that season 5 is not going to, and I’m so glad it exists and just thrilled that she trusted me to beta it.  I’m leaving a lot of stuff out though, so you should go check her out!

@milajovovich: One of the best gif makers in the fandom, I will fight you on this.  Makes absolute miracles with footage, the way she makes season 4 webrips look like they’re actual blurayrips is godly, they’re so crisp and so smooth and the coloring is always great.  And like, jesus, the way the bluray footage looks?  Fucking outstanding, the talent is off the charts.  Go marvel at their gifs, go, go.

@imreallyloveleee: A prolific, talented author and funny to boot!  loveleee is one of the people who has been here since the beginning, a mainstay in the fandom, and we are so, so lucky she hasn’t left.  How do I even begin to rec you some of her stuff?  She can write smut with fics like burn, baby (a 3x16 missing moment of bughead fucking in the car as the trailer burns, what a gift to the fandom, I can’t even), is queen of pining with fics like boy problems (season 1 post 1x05 canon divergence, a bughead get together but with that quality pining) and her i’m just a shot away series (two fics, one from Jughead’s POV and one from Betty’s, that are fully of pining and sexual tension and miscommunication and major teenage vibes, you gotta read them), and writer of one of the funniest fics in the fandom and one of my favorite, like spirits in the night (the core four + Kevin perform a seance to contact Jason Blossom and yes, it is just as funny as it sounds, perhaps even funnier).  And there are countless others, so settle in and go check her out because she does it all, fluff and angst too, I just don’t have time to rec them all.

@meditationonbaaal: Absolutely one of my all-time favorite fic authors, like across fandoms, the talent, I cannot even properly describe it, like the quality of the prose, amazing, iconic.  the devil’s daughter (a season 2 rewrite with some differences in season 1, jumps back and forth through time in the best way, has the best and creepiest dark!Jughead, has some great smut that includes dom!Betty and dom!Jughead can you believe we are so blessed, such a good rewrite of season 2, and you know how I love season 2, so that is some high praise, let me tell you) is easily in my top 10 all-time favorite fics across the many, many fandoms I’ve read many, many fics of, and you simply must check it out, you will not be disappointed.  develop, stop, fix just blew me away as a kink week fic of bughead playing with bdsm in a dark room, the layers, the smut, the trust, the feelings, I cannot even.  And doll parts!  doll parts is so good, just such an amazing take on drop dead gorgeous, a fabulous Jughead and Betty as per usual, dare I say even better than an already fantastic movie.  I am behind on loose lips sink ships, but I can already tell it’s going to be a great exploration of the Stonies and a great take on season 4.  Keep an eye on her stuff here and here, do not miss out!

@dieqohargreeves:  An icon and legend in gif making, just makes the most beautiful and intricate and creative gifs.  The coloring is amazing, the techniques are amazing, that shit is Art, I will fight you on this.  You gotta check ‘em out, you just gotta, I can’t do their work justice.

@sullypants:  The wit!  The humor!  The observational skills!  The talent, my god!  Sully is the genius behind @bettycooperoutfitwatch and @riverdalearthistory as well as a fabulous writer of both meta and fic, yet another excellent reason for me to keep up with others’ thoughts on Riverdale.  Her a comic miniverse series is so funny and sweet and such a great take on the Archie Comics version of bughead, and the after-party series (Betty and Jughead attend a, well, prom after party, and the events that happen, and I am not doing it justice, but it is v good, I promise) has such a great vibe and such great characterization.  And young adult friction (librarian!Jughead is in a kind of competition with librarian!Betty, it’s so funny and so great) is such a delight, and we do not have time to get into everything great she’s written, but go check it out here.

@lilibug--xx: The queen of bughead smut, can you believe she has graced us with her stuff?  It is steamy and it is in character and it is amazing.  Dark Cherry Chutney is still a fandom favorite of mine, just some great dark!bughead who are unaware of each other’s darkness (but oh, they find out!) as well as some excellent smut.  And Pressed for Time (Betty teasing Jughead with her skirts in an effort to get him to fuck her and he is barely holding on until he isn’t, alternating POVs in the best way) is sexy af but makes you work for it, it’s a delight.  And give you mine (Betty and Jughead fuck at work and it is so hot, I can’t even) is so goddamn good, just some of the best dom!Jughead out there.  Has also written monsterfucker!Betty, which you know I’m a fan of, in once upon a midnight (werewolf-hunter!Betty/werewolf!Jughead with sex pollen where she does not shy away from some wolfy-ness and it is hot af) and has written monsterfucker!Jughead, a rarity but always a delight, with reap what you sow (witch!Jughead/undine!Betty and Betty is so delightfully otherworldly and it is so sexy but also sweet), and there are countless other smut fics, we would be here all day if I went through them all, so you gotta check her out here.  One more thing though: she can also write fluff with Lemon Drops and Chocolate Chips, a sweet fic of Betty and Jughead as neighbors that you should definitely check out.

@thatiranianphantom:  Funny and thoughtful and talented and has correct opinions on musicals!  Writes such good explorations of post-4x17 (and post-4x17 adjacent) scenarios.  Like, the we are a masterpiece series is v good and so interesting, and no one else is singing my song is such great angst as a post-4x17 fic and a great use of Crazy Ex-Girlfriend songs.  I am forgetting a lot of stuff, I know I am, and I think I might be behind like a fool, so let’s go check out all her stuff together here, yes?  Yes.  Also?  Great for Riverdale speculation, especially about the season 5 musical episode.

@heartunsettledsoul:  So talented, queen of canon missing moments, and funny to boot!  I love reading her liveblogging of the episodes, and I cannot recommend her stuff enough.  Her Forgotten Moments series of canon missing moments is iconic, you must go read all of it, especially there’s witchcraft in your hips, a post-2x13 fic of Betty and Jughead being such teenagers and Jughead being a dweeb about his cheerleader girlfriend and I am not doing it justice but you gotta go read it, man, you gotta.  But the series is full of gems from the beginning with Midnight Silence (Betty and Jughead talk post-1x04 about the Grundy debacle and it’s such a delight) and going all the way through to the most recent it might’ve been a nightmare (a 4x12 through 4x16 fic that gives me a wide range of emotions and is fantastic) and your eyes look like coming home (Betty’s diary entries throughout season 1, simply inspired).  But she’s also so good at AUs!  a dark world aches (for a splash of the sun) is already looking so good as a bughead mystery with some varchie fun on the side, just some quality core four content, and won’t be the same (if you’re not here with me) is a favorite of fake dating, Christmas, and there was only one bed, just the best tropefest.  And there are so, so many more, so you must check her out here.

@lovedinapastlife: She writes such a variety of AUs, I am just in awe of them all!  The talent, I am amazed.  The dark!bughead in The Society is peak dark!bughead with a simply iconic yandere!Betty, and you are seriously missing out if you have not read it yet.  Oh, and there’s some more dark!Jughead with a side of dark!Betty in the key to harm(ony) that you must check out because it’s such a great ride and is sexy, what more could you want?  Every movie AU she does really takes the source material and makes it her own from works You Drive Me Crazy (but I'm gonna keep on loving you), based on Drive Me Crazy and definitely better than the movie, to the most recent to all the boys (but especially you), based on To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before and just so sweet.  But also can write otherworldly fics like Heart’s Desire with genie!Betty and The Second Coming with fae!Jughead, as well as regular aus like Detention (Betty and Jughead in detention and it gets a little sexy but also quite cute), and pure porn like Eye of the Beholder (Betty and Jughead as sorcerers who hook up over sorcerer Tinder and it is sexy but also sweet), as well as some of the best ABO in fandom with her A/B/O Mine series (alpha!Jughead/omega!Betty in high school and holy shit is it hot as hell).  I am only just skimming the surface here, so definitely go check her out!

@kyloren aka @jughead-jones:  Mila is so talented at making gifs, like goddamn, and also so funny, but I bet you didn’t know that she also has written some damn good fic!  She hides it, but it is out there and it is very good, my favorite being let me hang my hook on your splendor, a fandom fave of a Scooby-Doo au that is so much more thoughtful and clever with its casting, and also very amusing, you must check out the rest of her stuff here.

@elizabethbettscooper: A delightful person and a delightful writer who is largely retired from the bughead fandom but still such a talent, like seriously.  Her Twin Peaks Riverdale AU The Past Dictates the Future is so good, you simply must check it out, like you must.  And yours was the first face i saw is such a fun AU of “what if Betty’s crush on Archie was a front for her crush on Jughead”, you must go read it.  And holy shit, her i may be bad (but i’m perfectly good at it) series is peak dom!Jughead/sub!Betty taking place when they’re in college and fucking in so many varied ways, like if you are into that, you must go read these fics, you must, you will have a great and sexy, sexy time.  And there’s so much more good stuff, you gotta go read it all here.

@bettycreeper: She does so much for the fandom and she makes such gorgeous gifs!  Like, the coordination she does on the @bugheadfamily server and @bugheadfanfictionawards and @riverdale-events and probably elsewhere cannot be understated, she is such a valuable presence in the fandom.  And have you seen her gifs?  Gorgeous quality, just gorgeous, and her movie poster gifs for fics are simply inspired.  Also?  She’s an amazing beta, just outstanding.

@stillscape: A very thoughtful person and excellent writer who I can’t seem to tag.  Dianthus Caryophyllus is still one of my favorite fics in the fandom, a high school bughead fic with some amazing pining from Jughead with an oblivious Betty, I can feel it, it’s so good.  And of course there’s Ninia, an amazing take on the soulmates trope, just so good, I cannot do it justice, you must check it out.  The for the life of me series is also such a good AU for Betty and Jughead getting together pre-Riverdale at a summer internship, I have such fond memories of it.  And la peste (the plague)!  So good, I cannot even.  We don’t have time for everything, except you should make time and go check all of it out here.

@theheavycrown:  God, where would we be without Sarah?  She does so much work for the @bugheadfamily and @bugheadfanfictionawards and @riverdale-events and @riverdalecentral and I’m probably forgetting some, tbh.  And so sweet and talented!  Her gifs are fantastic and so are her fics.  Like, Rain Comes Down (Betty and Jughead fucking in the car on the side of the road while cars drive by)?  Iconic, some amazing exhibitionism.  you had me howling(Betty in heat in the woods and then Jughead finds her and fucking ensues)? Fantastic ABO, so horny, so desperate.  Beneath the Silver Moon Rising?  Excellent dom!Jughead, excellent sexy times.  You must go check out all of her stuff here, you must.

@50shades-of-bughead:  Just some of the absolute cutest art that you must check out, especially their series of dark!bughead that is just fantastic.

@thepointoftheneedle: The variety of work here is phenomenal, the talent, I cannot.  Took my ridiculous double fake marriage/draft-dodging concept and turned it into an excellent, thoughtful period piece with phenomenal characterization and a great mystery with Never No Locomotive, I cannot recommend it enough.  And Ghosts and Clouds and Nameless Things (ghost!Jughead/grieving-dead-Jughead!Betty with a side of mystery) gave me so many emotions, I think I almost cried, and I am not a crier, I assure you.  Hey Pixie Dream Girl, I’m Coming for Your Man! (Betty in her bookstore saves Jughead from his date with a Manic Pixie Dream Girl) is so delightfully funny, and Sunflowers (Betty and Jughead share a working space and fall in love) is so goddamn cute.  I have actually found myself behind on her work, which is a crime, it all looks so amazing and I know it will be, and you must check all of it out with me here.

@hellodinoflower:  Such an amazing presence in the fandom, such a delight, so clever and funny.  She ran @bugheaddrabblechallenge this past summer and gave us all so much joy in the process, and, while her fics are deleted now (as is her right), I promise you that they were amazing, you all missed out if you slept on her.  She’s such a great follow, you gotta follow her.

@bluevelvetvideo:  A delighful soul, great character insight, great writing.  Like, her smut is fantastic, have you read Arsenal (a double feature of Betty and Jughead fooling around in public and then having some sexytimes back in private with some quality dom!Jughead, let me tell you, v steamy)?  Because you should.  Christmas Lights (Jughead ties Betty up with their Christmas lights, it’s fantastically sexy) is a delight, and you can’t blame gravity (for falling in love) is a very fun take on soulmates and soulmarks, and you simply must go read it.  She is a master of smut, let me tell you, and you must check out all her stuff here.  Also?  An excellent beta, 10/10, I’m so lucky to have her.

@a-true-janian-reply:  Very funny, has excellent thoughts on Riverdale!  Like, truly, every time I see an original text post or a reblog from her, I am PSYCHED because it’s always going to be SO GOOD.

@writeradamanteve:  Such great talent across genres, really impressive.  Drive (illegal drag racing Betty and college student but former-ish Serpent Jughead, just fantastic) is one of my earliest fandom favorites, I remember excitedly telling my non-fandom friend about it because I thought it was so clever, and we all know how good Daemon Bound is, yes?  Yes, I’m sure we do.  Let’s go make sure we’ve read all her stuff here.

@thugheadjones:  Has some great insights, some great responses to dumb anons, and some fantastic art, like holy shit, I cannot even.

@bugggghead:  A delightful soul, so nice, so talented.  Writes some amazing smut, like, have you read intimately acquainted (alpha!Jughead/omega!Betty, meeting up on an app to help Betty with her heat in a heat retreat, four chapters of excellent smut)?  Because you should if you’re even kind of interested in ABO.  And en pointe is the bughead knifeplay fic of dreams, you gotta check it out.  And there are so many other ones, we do not have time to cover them all.  She also does cute fics, btw, and Message Me (fanfic-author-who-is-actually-the -real-author!Jughead/gif-maker-and-fangirl!Betty meet on tumblr and fall in love and it’s great) is such a delight, definitely go check it out.  In fact, go check out all her stuff here.  Also a fantastic beta, I really owe her for that.

@heavy-lies-the-crown:  A talented soul who has written so much high quality fic, from the hilarious red ribbon winner (a Christmas fic comedy that I cannot describe well but I assure you is both hilarious and sweet) to the emotional and moving road to me (Betty and Jughead break up, find themselves, and come back together and it’s perfection) to the heart-ripping angst of apizza (a semi post-4x17-speculation fic of bughead together but apart at Yale and the way they will come back together and it is so good and so angsty) to many, many more.  You gotta go check it all out here.

@lurker-no-more:  Yet another funny person, we as a fandom are so blessed, you must check them out, you just must.

@iconic-ponytail:  Another excellent writer!  a revelation in the light of day is SUCH a great slowburn and  SUCH a great take on both FBI!Betty and Sheriff!Jughead and the two of them falling in love as adults.  Also, the side varchie is fantastic, and the mystery is amazing.  I have not yet checked out the nighthawks, but I already know it’s going to be good, I can tell, you can trust this author to be quality, so go check all of her stuff out here.

@soyforramen:  Funny!  Very funny!  Also?  Writes some great ficlets that are, I think, exclusive to tumblr, which is a tragedy, tbh, but as is their right.  But I do have the link to this genius fic about bughead and a platypus in honor of the platypus anon that was going around this summer.  Definitely go check them out!

And now I am very tired, I have used up my energy, and I am so sorry if I forgot anyone!

[piracytheorist]

A Kiss for Good Luck (10/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3)

Word count for this chapter: 4.9k (50k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

~

Chapter 10: Killian Jones, October 19th 2015 – May 19th 2016

Killian only holds back because Emma does; if she gave him any indication, he'd be really reaching into the kiss. She pulls back gently, her cheeks having gone slightly red.

He directs his eyes back into hers to distract himself from the fact that she either enjoyed the kiss a lot, or didn't enjoy it at all. He's about to smile at her when he sees Eloise from the corner of his eye and turns to her. She's looking at them with her typical cold expression that hides a ton of judgement underneath.

He swallows his sigh for Emma's sake; he's so tired of Eloise and her everything. He shrugs at her casually. Did she actually expect something from him?

And if she did, does he care anymore?

He turns back to Emma. “Don't worry,” he says, hoping Eloise's appearance didn't dampen the mood, and a thought jumps into words before he has the time to stop it. "Wanna add me on Facebook? It's Killian Jones, if, if you're interested...” To do what? Find something to tell her, find something! “We can share favourite songs."

Emma snorts, amused. "Like we're in high school?"

He doesn't have the best memories from high school, but he remembers enough about that awkwardness to know he feels similarly now. "I won't stalk you if you don't add me, just saying."

His stomach nearly does a flip when Emma smirks at him. She reaches into her belt bag and takes out her phone, which immediately slips from her fingers.

"Shit," she says. When she picks it up, they both can see that the screen cracked a bit. "Shit!"

"Oh. I feel as if I've caused that." As if he hasn't made things awkward enough.

Emma shakes her head. "It's replaceable. Don't worry. Killian Jones, you said?"

His chest feels warm at the sound of his full name in her voice. He should stop her; even in the slightest chance that she's actually interested, he's not the best person for any kind of connection.

But Emma is quick with her phone and says, "Friend request sent,” and he nearly leans down to kiss her again. “So we can chat about hot, new releases," she adds, still sounding amused.

He's about to ask for her last name. His battery is dying and he probably won't have the time to open the app before his phone turns off, and now that she did add him, his curiosity is skyrocketing.

"Hey," an older woman calls at Emma from the side. The woman looks at him with a slightly cautious glare, and looks a bit alike with Emma.

"Coming," Emma tells her. "So, we'll keep in touch," she tells him, actually pointing at him with her phone.

He just smiles in response, giving her a slight wave goodbye.

Watching them leave, his eye catches Eloise pouting, keeping her arms folded and staring at him from afar. He snorts and takes out his phone, impatient to accept Emma's request and find out her full name.

Instead of the Facebook app, he accidentally opens the camera, just as Klaus Meine walks right by him. He sees Killian, phone in hand, stops walking, and smiles.

"S-Selfie?" is all Killian can say, shocked.

He doesn't even see Eloise walk furiously towards him, his eyes fixed on the perfect selfie he got with the lead singer of the group they just watched perform.

"What was all that about?" Eloise says upon reaching him.

Killian looks at her, retort ready. "That was me taking a selfie with Klaus Fucking Meine."

Eloise scoffs. "You were kissing that bitch."

"Oh, come on,” he taunts her. “You're just jealous you didn't get a selfie."

"I'm serious," she says, her 's' whistling through her teeth.

"Serious? About what? We're just fucking, and you know that. You treat me like a piece of meat and you expect full commitment on my side? Maybe you're thinking of the wrong woman as a 'bitch'."

Eloise is speechless. And he is suddenly feeling powerful.

"You know what? Fuck that. We're done. You drive back to Brighton, I'm not gonna put up with a return trip if you're involved."

"And what are you gonna do?" she spits back at him.

"We're right in the center of town. I can afford to stay in a hotel for one night." He starts leaving.

"It's late! You'll get charged double!" She hasn't even taken a step towards him – she's waiting for him to go back to her.

She can wait all she wants.

He turns towards her, walking backwards. "I don't give a bloody damn," he tells her, then turns forward and leaves.

He leaves her.

How did he forget how calmer his nights are without her? The receptionist doesn't even charge him double – they'd just prepared a room that got cancelled last minute, and providing Killian leaves on time the next morning, it's just the standard price.

The room is nice, yet his mind is still going back to Eloise.

Damn, he left her. He made it.

And all because Emma was bold enough to kiss a damn perfect stranger.

He picks up his phone, now connected to a charger the hotel offered. Emma's friend request is right at the top of his notifications.

He smiles as he accepts.

His first day away from Eloise brings to the forefront how their relationship was way, way more than sex, only in a bad way. How he'd go to sleep some nights, nearly shaking with despair to go buy a bottle and with fear that Eloise wouldn't react well to him doing that. How that bled through to other parts about his life, how he had let her control it, and how she jumped at the chance to do so. He has a full day on his own to reflect on his thoughts and worries with a clear mind.  

It ends on one conclusion; reconciling with family.

Nemo greets him back with open arms, and though Shakespeare keeps a collected face, he embraces Killian warmly too.

He spends the night there, falling asleep at the sight of his old drawings on the wall of his old bedroom. He hasn't picked up a pencil in some time...

Nemo doesn't ask anything the next morning. He's just happy Killian is back and willing to connect, and gets him to try playing chess with him, his new hobby. Killian doesn't even have the nerve to joke about Nemo's apparent mid-life crisis.

Once again, he's being more than Killian deserves. But maybe, once again, Killian can work towards being a man deserving of that love.

Before lunch, he's found himself with a picture of a forest landscape open on his phone, sketching from reference, when he receives a video call from Emma.

His heart speeds up. His hand is shaking slightly as he picks up the phone and looks at the screen, itching to tap “Accept”. He runs to the bathroom, making sure he's presentable, then back at his room, settles on his chair and accepts the call.

Her face fills the screen, and he gives her a cocky smile. She looks fresh from sleep; a different sight from the one in the concert, but what a sight still.

“Good morning,” he says. Is it? “Or afternoon? Have you gone back yet?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, smiling wide, “I arrived last night.”

“How was your trip?”

“A bit more tiring than I'm used to. But safe.”

“Than you're used to? You do it often?”

Emma explains about her extended family in Norway, her visits there a few times a year, and being used to long flights.

He finds himself feeling a little jealous. The only two times he travelled abroad brought years of bad fortune on him.

Emma definitely seems to hold something back, but he pays no mind; his closet has no fewer skeletons. They start chatting about music and end up talking about their plans for the holidays.

Time flies by and it's only when he hears Nemo call for lunch that he realizes they've been talking for an hour.

Bloody hell, he thinks, why do they have to eat so early?

He excuses himself, telling her he'll see her soon, and he can't help noticing how she seems to be holding back something again. He hopes he didn't disappoint her, and ends the call.

He looks at her name on his screen and he nearly taps it to call her again.

He locks his phone and puts it down. Wait a few days, give her time, he thinks.

He goes back to his apartment that same evening, and there's a box of the stuff he kept at Eloise's place. He checks the drawers he kept for her, and they're empty as well. Eloise's spare key is inside the box, with a note for him to not bother with his spare key of her place, as she'll be changing the locks.

He actually feels surprised. That's really mature of her, and he doesn't have to see her again.

Maybe that's what she wants too. Better for both of them.

Before he goes to sleep he starts looking for therapists, and though he doesn't contact anyone yet, he considers it a step towards the right direction. He'll get there.

He calls Emma three days later, and before he's even noticed it, they develop a schedule, chatting two times a week. He wishes to talk to her more often, but he still sees the reserved expression he knows too well on her face, and he knows she needs time. Of course, half the time it's her calling him, and she participates in conversation as much as he does.

She wants it, he knows. She's just taking it slow, and if he's honest, he needs slow too. What he had with Eloise may have led to him meeting Emma, but it still had an impact on him – and not that long after he lost the woman he loved, too.

The same afternoon he makes an appointment with a new therapist – and dreading it, considering the pile of information he'd have to give them – he gets a call from an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Is this Killian Jones?”

“Who is it?”

“My name is George Rogers, I'm a private detective. Could you confirm your name, please?”

The detective is looking into Milah's murder. He's – lawfully – found suspicious contacts between Gold, his false witnesses and two now convicted criminals in the States, and he's opening her case. Killian's case too, considering he was assaulted as well.

Killian can barely speak. He'd lost all hope that Gold would receive any judgement from anyone but Killian himself. He thought he'd just have to live with the burden that Milah's murderer walks the streets free until he would grow desperate enough to get a gun and kill him himself.

He agrees to meet with the detective at his office and he looks at his phone when he hangs up, catching his shocked expression on the reflection, unable to even close his mouth.

When Killian opens the door to Rogers' office, he freezes as he sees the man.

Rogers just gives him a warm smile. “Mr. Jones.” Then he nods at Killian's stunned silence. “I know.”

The resemblance is uncanny; Rogers has a few grey streaks and more wrinkles, so Killian feels as if he's looking into what he'll look like about ten years from now. Physically, at least.

Rogers has acquired the testimony Killian gave when he was still at the hospital, and is trying to piece the crime together and prove the two convicted criminals are the two bodyguards Gold had hired that fateful day. With a bit of luck and skill, he can lead them to a confession. They're already in prison and it seems that Gold's finances haven't been going well lately. If he hasn't been keeping his false witnesses content, they may not be hard to persuade.

Rogers excuses himself for a moment, and Killian looks dumbfounded at the chessboard Rogers has set on his desk. Nemo didn't pick the habit up, but Killian did. He starts playing on his own, trying to distract himself from the pile of questions for Rogers and the anxiety that is building up. He doesn't want to let himself hope for Gold's arrest; he won't be able to deal with the result of the case going cold again.

“Do you play?” Rogers asks, nodding at the board.

Killian shrugs. “I started a few weeks ago. I play a bit online to...” He looks up at him, still a bit shocked at their physical resemblance. “You said you opened this case. Why?”

Rogers sits down at his desk. “It's my job. I was hired to look into it.”

“By whom?”

“Confidentiality, mate. I was looking Gold up, and after some digging I found out you had accused him for murder and assault.”

“I tried.”

Rogers shakes his head. “That bastard's a few million pounds away from starting a bloody mob. Hiring a few false witnesses is a piece of cake for him. Unfortunately for him, he can't cover all his sources and expenses. Questions start piling; where did he get all that money, and where are they going to? Especially now that his businesses are supposed to be failing.”

Rogers can't promise anything, but he looks determined to do his best. Killian doesn't allow himself any hope. He focuses on his life; going back to work with Shakespeare, finding a new AA group, starting therapy again, and talking to Emma.

He doesn't realize how much he's changing his own life until Emma points out that he told her once he's an early bird, yet there he is at two in the morning his time, chatting with her. And indeed, Shakespeare was willing to give him a late shift, but Killian didn't mind it that much either. He shifts the conversation to her choice of snack, making a sour face at the pop-tart in her hand.

“How can you eat that thing? It's like sugar-coated sugar,” he teases her.

Emma laughs, saying it's European candies that need a good dose of sugar instead.

With Christmas approaching, Rogers takes time off officially but keeps doing some work from home, and he calls Killian one evening to discuss some details about his testimony.

Killian finds a taxi fast, which manages to avoid all traffic and red lights and he arrives early at Rogers'. He's in a bathrobe and his hair is wet when he opens his door.

“You're early,” he says. “Come in.”

Killian steps in, immediately noticing the girl sitting cross-legged in front of a coffee table, playing chess.

“That's my daughter, Alice. Perhaps she can teach you a couple tricks,” Rogers says, smiling. “I'll be back in a minute.” He disappears behind a door.

“Wow,” Alice says, looking at him. “You do look like papa. He told me so but I didn't believe him.” She turns innocently to her chessboard.

A lump forms in Killian's throat; neither he nor Rogers commented much on their resemblance, but with another person so close to Rogers pointing it out, he can't help the possibilities that fill his thoughts. His deadbeat father had already left two children; what would one more before them change anything?

Could it really be?

“Can I ask you something?” Killian asks when Rogers is done with his questions. “How old are you?”

Rogers looks a bit taken aback. “Forty-five. Why?”

Thirteen years older than him. Which means his father would've been fourteen when Rogers was born. Unlikely, but still...

“Were you born here?”

Rogers sits back in his chair, his eyebrow raised. “Actually, I was born in Seattle, but my folks moved us back to Plymouth when I was five.” He pauses. “Are you curious...” he points between their faces.

Killian shrugs, but relaxes. The possibility of his father, at thirteen years old, travelling to Seattle and impregnating a woman are downright impossible.

“I was also curious, when I found your file and saw your picture. But I see a lot of people in my line of work, and trust me, there is a notable number of almost twins out there.”

Feeling comforted, but still vulnerable, Killian confesses. “It's just... my father was not much of a parent. I wouldn't put it past him to have another child he never mentioned to us.”

“I understand. I can assure you, though, it's just a coincidence.”

“It's also that... my mother's name was Alice.” He smiles at that, though.

“Oh. That is peculiar. But I simply liked the name for my daughter, and it's not like it's a super rare name.” He then turns to look at the clock as a thunder rumbles somewhere not too far. “I'll be making some dinner, would you like to stay?”

“No, it's alright.”

“You can either help, if you want, or keep Alice company as she teaches you tricks.” Rogers rubs at Alice's back, who has come to stand next to her father.

“How long has she been playing?”

“Since before I could read,” she says, proudly crossing her arms.

Killian smiles at her.

“For real,” Rogers says. “She was still in preschool when I started teaching her. That's more than six years of experience.”

“Which is why I always beat you,” Alice tells him.

Killian stands up. “Then I have no hope against you. Thanks for the offer, but you've already done enough.”

“Come on, mate, it's pouring rain outside.”

Killian smiles a little wider. “I have a good feeling about it.”

Indeed, the rain slows to a drizzle and the taxi he calls arrives quickly.

Most of his nights for the past four years have been plagued by the thought that he'd never see Gold pay for his crimes. He had a few nights of blissful calm, either brought by alcohol or the occasional good time the last couple months, but this is the first night that he feels at least relieved. Not confident or hopeful, yet; he knows better than that.

Emma confesses to him that she won't be spending Christmas with her extended family and that she lied to her friends so that they wouldn't cancel their plans for her sake.

He sneakily looks into flights for Boston while he's still on chat with Emma; a cold dread spreads in him when he's reminded of what both his trips to the States caused him.

He goes to bed very late that night, hating himself. Emma needs someone to spend the holidays with, she wants someone, and he's too afraid of his own superstitions to be that someone for her. And the worst part is, he used to be lucky. He knows what's it like to throw caution to the wind and still everything coming out fine. It's the first time in four years that he's started to feel that things have started going well. He's too afraid to push his luck.

He resorts to sending her a collection of his favourite seashells that he's gathered over the years as a gift. He's happy to hear it arrives in time, and he has a celebratory video chat with Emma on Christmas day, going along with her and her pop-tarts.

He regrets not going to Boston, or at least offering to help pay her tickets so she could come visit him, when it's New Years Eve and he has to show a happy face for his family while he knows Emma is all alone.

Just two hours before midnight his time, he takes Nemo's car and manages to find an open toy store. The owner says Killian is the luckiest bastard of the year, as he was about to close for the night. Killian buys a confetti cannon, thanks him, and wishes him a happy new year.

He allows himself exactly two hours of celebrating with his family before he goes to bed. He wakes up at half past four and sets everything up for a surprise celebration for Emma, checking at least three times that he's got his timezones right and it's still before midnight in Boston.

He starts calling her at quarter to five, but she's not online. Then again at ten to five. When she doesn't answer at five to five, he sends her an SMS to turn her WiFi on. As he waits for her to become active, he prepares to tease her for falling asleep on the one night most people want to stay up. He sets into a smug face and calls her immediately after her dot turns green.

His face falls when she accepts his call and he sees her tear-stained face, broken by a sorrowful expression.

“Oh, Swan,” he says.

Emma bursts into sobs. He waits for her, he doesn't give a damn if they miss the countdown, they can do one of their own. As long as Emma is alright.

As her sobs slow down, he feels tears in his own eyes. How he wishes he could reach over and hold her.

What a coward he was. When she wipes away her tears, he gives a silent promise to never let her experience anything like that again.

“Thank you,” Emma says.

Killian looks at the clock he's set up. “It's thirty seconds now. Do you want me to count with you?”

“Yes, please.”

He sees the smile on his preview turn more cheerful.

Emma looks at him, her smile widening as the seconds go down, contrasting her red and puffy eyes.

Killian pops the confetti cannon, but his eyes never leave her reflection. “Happy New Year!” he says.

“You stayed up,” she says.

“I... woke up,” he admits. “I mean, I went to sleep a bit early, and even I would say two is early for New Year's, so I snuck in a few hours of sleep before the alarm went off.”

Her face is so vulnerable, and the wish to hold her overwhelms him.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” she says.

“I wouldn't forgive myself if I let you change the year alone.” Nor if I let it happen again. “Especially after you told me what you didn't tell your friends. Losing a bit of sleep is nothing.”

He has a whole array of snacks prepared for his late night with her, but he sets it aside when she says that all she has is the few pop-tarts left from Christmas.

She seems to love them so much. “Perhaps I chose the wrong flavor,” he says. “If I visit Boston one day you'll get me all kinds and I'll taste them all.”

He almost says 'when' instead of 'if'. But he has to be rational; financially he cannot yet support a trip, and he owes Emma an honest promise only when it's possible.

There's not much he's wanted from life; and by now he's learned to not push for more than he has. But is it too much to think that he's in love with her? That he's reminded what it feels like, to feel his heart full of love and not thirsty for revenge?

Is it too much to hope he can have something with her?

He makes himself some coffee, determined to stay with her until she falls asleep. Her eyes are drooping closed when he takes the phone to the window, to show her the lighter blue streak of the early sunrise. Her eyes are already closed when he sits back and sings Auld Lang Syne to her. When the song ends, he lets a few seconds go by before he calls her name once.

When there's no response, he ends the call and sends her “Happy new year, love,” in text.

The new year arrives promising. Only three days in, Rogers calls him to tell him one of Gold's fake witnesses confessed.

Killian needs to attend two sets of trials; one for Milah's murder, and one for the assault against him. Both are draining, but Nemo is beside him, and Killian bursts into tears when Gold gets life sentence.

He thinks about Milah's boy, Jack; he's barely fifteen years old, and he's dealing with what Killian had hoped he never would; seeing one – or in his case, probably both – of his parents as a monster. Gold had remarried; right after divorcing him, Belle, his now second ex-wife, was the one who had hired Rogers to look into Gold. She attested against Gold in the trial, but she seemed to care a lot for the boy.

Three weeks later he hears that Belle took custody of Jack. Killian is sure the boy hates him already; all he can do is hope his stepmother will care and provide for him.

His heart had stopped aching for revenge, but that doesn't mean it's not relieved that a murderer who chose to ruin him is now behind bars.

And with Emma, it soars. Through those emotionally taxing months, talking to her is his one constant.

Before either he or Emma realize it, their chats become a daily habit, even when there's little to say. Sometimes they just synchronize their Netflix to watch something together. Sometimes just each other's presence there on the phone screen is enough while doing housework.

Killian has completely switched to late shift at Shakespeare's boat rental, so that he can stay up late and talk with Emma after she's done with her shift.

For years, his mind was consumed with thoughts of revenge. His consciousness felt lighter, but his heart still felt empty after Gold was convicted. With Emma, he remembers how it feels like to care for someone that way, the way he did before Gold took that away from him.

Emma is in no way a replacement for Milah; but he knows it's time he moved on, and he can see in her someone he can do that with. Someone he can be happy with. Milah would want him to be happy, as he would want that for her.

Killian shares the story of his family slowly coming apart; his mother dying, his father leaving, and the final straw when his brother died. He tells her how he was nearly lost himself, how he has no idea where he'd be if Nemo hadn't, quite literally, saved him.

Emma shares her story of growing up an orphan, of being adopted and finally feeling she belonged, until her adopted mother was deported and she had to fend for herself, resorting to trusting the wrong person.

It's yet another time that Killian wishes he could reach into the screen and hold her. It could've been him, the one who trusted the wrong person and lost everything. And Emma is still standing on her feet.

He tells her about Eloise, she tells him about having done time – which makes her current standing even more admirable. Where would he be if his lawyer hadn't managed to get him on probation for breaking and entering on that stupid, desperate night?

He tells her about staying off of alcohol. How he'd thought he'd never stay clean for good. What he doesn't tell her is that it happened to be that he got the strength to keep up his sobriety just after he met her.

He loves her, he knows that. And he doesn't think lightly of their kiss at the concert, but he's not sure she's ready to hear she's had such a positive impact in his life.

And all because he was cheerful enough to hum a song and Emma happened to hear it.

With his emotions muddled by the trial, the stress, the anticipation for the results, and eventually the worry for Milah's son, he is surprised to realize it's late April and he can afford much, much more than a trip to Boston, thanks to the eighty thousand pounds he got from Gold as compensation for losing his hand.

He chooses to not wait too long for Emma. He wants her, and he wants to be good enough for her. Even though he'll need time for that, and he feels she's not ready for anything too quick either, he feels excited to meet her again.

When he tells her he's thinking of visiting her in May, she immediately offers her place for him to stay at.

His heart soars, he smiles widely – and Emma's connection cuts off.

When she comes back in, her smile reflects his. It's a relieving conversation that night, to tell each other that they want something more, but that they both need to take things slow. And one first visit can clear the path, so to speak.

He's still slightly nervous to get on the plane; he treated himself to a first class seat, however – not provoking karma by sneaking into someone else's unclaimed seats this time – and he's surprised to be awaken by a flight attendant when they've already landed at Logan Airport. There were apparently disturbances that delayed landing for an hour, and he slept peacefully through it all.

He turns on his phone and he feels a little relieved seeing Emma's message that she would have to be late. At least she wasn't left to wait for him.

He spots her as soon as the automatic doors leading out of arrivals open. She smiles and waves at him.

When they embrace, his chest feels lighter than it's felt in years. He pulls back and looks at her calm, happy face, then his gaze drops to her lips.

She closes her eyes when she pulls up to give him a peck.

~

(A/N: Finally, things start happening! And not just with them getting together at last!)

[vesperstalksclones]

Wrecker x Mando Femme OC

The Naked Truth

(18 +) explicit

So this is a gratuitous smut snippet of a Wrecker centered Bad Batch story, post Order 66. But of course, I'm writing the juicy parts first lol. I wanted to post because who knows if I'll finish it, and tumblr needs some Wrecker smut! So, following is unprotected sex, a difficult first coupling, ample fondling, and one surprisingly gentle guy, which is still pretty rough since he's built like a draft horse.... and hung like one... 😳

Quick synopsis:

(OH please pardon my lazy editing, I forgot to go spell check my Mando'a, so I kriffed up a few things 🤨)

The crew have been hiring themselves out to make $$ to fuel the Maurauder, buy supplies, etc. They take a job as armed support for a Mandalorian cell on a rather obscure outer rim planet, who have been clashing with the local crime syndicate. He meets Kessa-Lan, a stoic female warrior with a knack for explosives and an excellent rifleman. Of course our big goofy boy is smitten instantly, but her voice! Its all husky and full of pepper (think like Demi Moore) and he is going to die from loving it. But.. she refuses to take her helmet or armor off in his presence, but not because of strict code; Kessa was injured badly several years ago when her village was attacked by several of the crime family's enforcers. The burns resulted in the loss of her right arm, and her neck, shoulder, and face on the right side are terribly scarred. She has no ear on that side, and half her face is covered by cybernetic skin, with a replacement eye as well. She grows her hair in to thick braids, woven with beads and mementos, so that the locks can hide some of the disfigurement. She is ashamed and afraid that he wouldn't be so enamored if he saw her properly. So some stuff happens… pew pew, boom, pew, etc,etc. Wrecker ends up captured by the crime syndicate's local cell, with a few of Kessa's Vode, and he recognizes their sigil as the group who destroyed Kessa's village and harmed her so terribly. He manages to trick them into bringing him to a meeting hall alone, so they don't use the others as human shields to keep him in check. He taunts the leader in to a one on one fight (they think he's heavily sedated) and when they've uncuffed him, he visits some terrible hell on the three odd dozen elites, but suffers serious injuries in the process. The Bad Batch finds him and rushes off planet to an old friend with a bacta tank and the medical skills to save him. Upon returning, the Batch proceeds to obliterate the criminals and Wrecker seeks out his love interest, hoping she is at least a little bit happy to see him.

 

       OOOOO Here's the good stuff OOOOO

Wrecker Circled her silently, looking her up and down with a quiet intensity. A few times he stilled, and she felt the calloused pads of his fingers ghost over a scar or a patch of freckles. Stopping behind her, his hands came to rest on her shoulders, thumbs caressing for a moment before they slid to her wrists and gently lifted her arms to the air. She felt him shift, no doubt examining them as he had done the rest of her, running his fingers along the lengths, assessing the differences between the one, flesh and bone, and the other, cold cybernetics. 

"Beautiful." He whispered so low she could barely make out the word.

"Hmmm?" 

"Beautiful, Mesh'la." He reached for her wrists again, raising her arms higher and positioning them around his neck, "You're a dream come to life." 

She leaned against him as his lips brushed her undamaged shoulder, nibbling a gentle path towards her neck. 

Retracing the path along her arms, he splayed his fingers wide and his great hands smoothed along her sides and over her hips, climbing up over her abdomen and ribs in slow circuits. When his lips reached her cheek, she turned her face, catching them with her own, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her torso, pulling her as flush against him as he could manage. He sighed into her mouth, kissing and licking at her softly. 

For a moment Kessa was able to appreciate that no matter how brutally strong this behemoth may be, he had an inherently gentle heart. She had half expected to be flung down and ravaged by Wrecker the moment she bared her skin to him, as eagerly as he had flirted with her and as hungry as his eyes always were. She certainly hadn't expected this sensual caressing as he savored her in his arms. Despite the tautness of every muscle she could feel against her back, and the slight tremor in his hands, he held himself quiet and steady.

He broke away from her, turning his gaze back down her body, thoroughly enjoying the view. He slumped backwards, leaning against the crude table, hands full of her breasts as he arched her against him, and she hissed as he toyed with the dark peaks of her nipples. He experimented for a few moments, weighing her in his hands, varying the force of his grasp, rolling and pinching at the buds until he found just the right movement to make her whimper.

"That's right Sugar, sing for me so I know what you like…." he growled low in her ear, his voice growing impossibly deeper. One of his massive paws had crept to the juncture of her thighs, and he traced the crease thoughtfully. "Spread your legs, Dala. I want to touch you". 

She obliged, wiggling her hips as she did so, feeling his hard member ride up against the small of her back. Wrecker hummed in appreciation, as his fingers crept into her warmth and, finding her slick and eager for him, dove right in. Seeking out the bundle of nerves at the front, he stroked with two fingers, trapping the delicate flesh and sending marvelous tingling sensations through her belly. 

"Remember… my tongue was here before…" he whispered, ".. but you hid the rest of you then, all tucked away in that armor and that helmet… killed me to have to listen to you through a moderator." The two fingers flexed and curled, and then plunged inside her, and she clamped around them with a ragged moan, her jaw dropping open from the sudden intrusion. " Kriffing hell! That's nice!" he gasped into her neck.

He thrust into her eagerly, dragging his thumb across her clit each time, spurred along by Kessa's mewls and cries. 

"Fuck! That voice ad'ika! Just listening t'ya could finish me!" He scraped his teeth along her jaw, and she could feel him trembling against her, his breath warm and moist at her ear. "So many times, all I could think was what you'll sound like when you take my cock."

She squirmed, rocking her hips and riding his hand. "Ah.. Wrecker! I want you inside me cy'aire, please!"

"Not yet, doll. Ladies first, then we'll see what happens." He couldn't ignore the burst of sensation brought on by her plea, begging for him to stuff himself between her thighs, and he couldn't help but to roll his hips against her, finding small satisfaction in rutting against her lower back.

"So tight, love. I'm giving you another…" he ground out hoarsely, before adding a third thick finger to her besh, groaning in satisfaction as she arched against him with a sob. "I'm so 'fraid I'll hurt you." 

He felt her relax after a few thrusts, her slick running down the back of his hand. Her sounds were growing more frantic, and she was moving against him with purpose… "Are you there Sugar? Give it to me doll, come for me…let it go..." he pleaded gently.

She pulled his hand roughly to her breast, and he massaged and plucked at her roughly, causing Kessa to yelp and tighten around his knuckles. He stroked her only a few more times before she stiffened and shuddered, giving a broken cry. Wrecker watched in awe as the climax washed over her features, feeling her body contract around his fingers, her nails scraping at his shoulders. He could have wept at the sight, her lashes fanned over her dark cheek… the slight chatter of her teeth as her head lolled against his shoulder.. She drew out such profound feelings in him, his beautiful, pepper voiced, warrior goddess… that is if he wasn't so insanely desperate to pound her 'til her bones rattled.

Chest heaving, Kessa made to move away and he withdrew carefully. She turned and plastered herself against his chest, beaming up at him, one soul-less cybernetic eye blazing red, the other an explosion of green and gold and brown, a swirl of starlit colors as stunning as the glowing gas nebulae he had seen in his travels. 

 "Now!" She gasped, breathless still, "I want you on top of me!"

"Hmmmm.. mesh'la I don't dare."

Her eyes widened in confusion.

"Kess'ika, there isn't a soft surface anywhere in here; I'd beat you to hell darlin. I know my strength and I know how stupid I'm gonna get." 

He rose from where he leaned against the rough work table, considering it carefully.

"But this'll do, I'll break this instead!" He shoved it back hard against the wall with a soft chuckle and turned to reach for her. She came to him eagerly, and he scooped her up, grinding her against  him a few times with a satisfied groan, and he deposited her on the surface. 

"You're ready for me?" He asked, drawing himself close between her legs.

"Um-hmm. Wrecker, take this off." She demanded gently, tugging at the skin tight black shirt he wore. He obligingly peeled it upwards and felt her hands on his skin before it cleared his shoulders. Flinging the garment away he admired the look on Kessa's face as she explored his chest and abdomen. 

"These look terrible." She whispered, her fingers ghosting over the newly healed blaster wounds. 

He gently butted his head against hers. "They're worth it if it means you sleep better at night." He grinned as he kissed her; she framed his face with her hands, deepening the kiss, and when he opened for her, Kessa's tongue brushed over his, making him see stars. 

He jerked his trousers down his thighs and pressed her backwards upon the bench. Wrecker grasped her knees, spreading her wide before him and rolled himself against her, gliding his rigid cock through her wetness for good measure. She pushed up on her elbows, watching him thoroughly wet himself, before fisting his member and aligning himself with her opening.

Seven hells, he was big, well proportionally correct anyway for a man the size of a mountain, and she realized his purpose in using his fingers first... it would have been difficult without some preparation. He pushed against her, gritting his teeth with strain. Her jaw fell slack as he stretched her, his rounded head easing its way in. 

"Is this alright cy'aire?" He hissed. "Hurts?"

He paused, shaking against her as he struggled with his overtaxed libido. 

"Yes, love, I'm alright," she held his gaze, wanting him to see clearly that she wasn't lying for his benefit. She groped for his hands where they held her hips tightly, clinging to them for stability. He continued to push in to her, pausing to withdraw and return to claim another inch of her space. Her muscles burned as she took him, but it wasn't unbearable and each gentle motion felt better than the last. 

"Give me all of you, Wrecker. I'm ready," She gasped. 

He watched her for a moment, sweat beading on his forehead from the tension, and then flexed his ass and plunged forward, landing flush against her thighs and she wailed under him.

"Fuck! Kessa, I'm sorry! I'll stop…" 

"No! Wrecker don't you dare!" She dug her nails into his wrists. "Just hold still a moment." She drew a deep breath willing her protesting muscles to relax, as he gently kneaded her hips.

"Kessa, we don't have to do this, love..."

"I'm ok cy'aire. It's just.. it's been a long, long time, and you're… well… you!" She gave a tug at both arms. 

"Again, just start slowly, I was made for this, you know."

"To be mated by a bantha??"

She burst out laughing, and his eyes rolled back in his head from the contractions it caused around his cock. 

"Jengo's bones woman! Kriffing HELL that feels amazing!"

"You said before you liked my voice enough to get off on it," She quipped, a coy look settling on her face.

"No doubt."

He stooped and kissed her hungrily, before bracing his palms on the table and tentatively moved his hips against her. Gradually he withdrew and then returned, filling her to bursting. She felt him drag against the most deliciously sensitive places, and each one sent hot electricity up her spine. Catching his honey brown eyes, she nodded and he quickened his movements, breathing raggedly from the sensations. 

"Kessa… " he uttered her name again and again, like a prayer. " Oh… Kessa... Gods… you feel so good, woman.. I can't…  I can't believe .. you let me … touch you like this!" Wrecker gasped, punctuating his words with sharp thrusts. "Wanted you for so damn long. Want you for myself… keep you…  My woman.."

"You'd better ruin every other cock for me then" she replied, the words turning in to breathy moans. 

With a sound somewhere between a groan and a snarl, he roughly gathered her up in his arms, his kiss pressing her into the table, his thighs slamming forward harshly against the wooden edges - and they were vaguely aware of the sound of something breaking. She mewled into his mouth, clawing at his back and neck, desperate to pull him closer than he already was. 

"Are you going to come on my cock, love?" He growled. She couldn't do much more than whimper. "Come on mesh'la, scream for me. Wanna feel you!" He reared up, cradling her hips in an iron grip as he rammed into her, feral noises curling from deep within his chest. Kessa dug her nails against the table, watching his member disappear within her again and again, shining with her slick. She knew that she only ever wanted him. No other man should ever have her this way. 

"Wrecker… I love you cy'aire, only you.. I'm yours however you want me.." she cried as her tension built, her release looming. "Come inside me cy'aire, I want you to…" something shattered within her and her climax washed over her. The world turned upside-down and the stars exploded in her eyes, and she screamed, just like he'd asked..

Seeing Kessa coming undone beneath him, her hot tight muscles contracting around him proved his undoing. A hard thrust, and another, and the third had him surging into her, her cries ringing in his ears; a more beautiful sound he had never heard, and his own climax claimed him, drawing blackness across his eyes. 

He didn't quite faint; he was still sailing on the ripples of the best orgasm he had ever had, and his vision slowly came to focus. Kessa was watching him with a look of immense satisfaction, like a proud loth-cat who had just eaten the proverbial song bird.. He was trembling still, with the occasional harsh shudder as she continued still to tighten and relax against his softening cock. 

He reached for her chin. "Kessa, did I hurt you sweetheart?"

"Yes." She groaned. "It was amazing. Do it again."

He wasn't quite sure what to make of that, when she grabbed his neck and pulled him down for a wet kiss.

 "I meant what I said. Wrec."

He grinned crookedly and kissed her back. "We need to find a proper bed darlin'. 

Pretty sure this pic is by Mollo101; whose Star Wars art is AMAZING!! Sorry so dark and melancholy, but there is a lack of Wrecker fanart out there!

[pebblysand]

[SEPTEMBER ‘21] - THE LIFE/WRITING UPDATE NO ONE ASKED FOR (AND SOME QUICK LINKS)

well, hello hello, welcome, it is september first and hogwarts is back in session, haha! where’s your letter, did you get it? i hope so!

in true gryffindor fashion, i’m a summer person. i like parties, the beach and hot weather, so i’m currently working hard, trying to delay the inevitable return of autumn and the dreaded back-to-school mood by staying in sunny southern france for a few more days. i’ll be back in dublin on saturday where, as per usual, rain has been scheduled to occur upon my return lol.

Anyway, before diving into more life/writing updates, here are some quick links to different blog pages you might not see on mobile :

to read my fics [updated]

to read my original work

fic recs

to read my tumblr rants about stuff

[NOTE: i am currently not accepting prompts. i already have a backlog, folks.]

Castles (chap 9) ETA: optimistic? 19 September. realistic? october.

links extended a/n-s: chapter v ; chapter vi & vii ; chapter viii

[more life/writing updates under the cut]

what i’m reading:

i’m actually quite happy with my book reading this month. i read a friend’s short-ish (27k) story, as well as two full books, and started a third. i wanted my holidays to be a time of catching up with missed reading opportunities, and it definitely was.

first, i read three rooms by jo hamya. i picked this one up because it was recommended by my bookshop, was written by a BAME author, marketed as a ‘millenial’ literary fiction novel which i’m always a sucker for, and the cover looked intriguing. the story is that of an unnamed narrator in her early/mid-twenties, navigating the end of her masters degree and her first job in london. to be honest, as i previously said in another post, i don’t particularly fancy myself as a book critic so i don’t really like to say negative things about the books i read. as an author, i know how hard things can hurt when people are talking about your writing sort-of behind your back and i’m always paranoid that the author might one day see what i’ve written, lol. this being said, what i will say about this book is that while not bad, it wasn’t really a fit for me. the writing is very good, crisp and quick just the way i like it (though if you get irritated by the current trend of not using quotation marks for dialogue, you might get irritated by this), but i just found it hard to relate to the characters. i think you will like this if you like books that are more about their setting and their world rather than plot or character. the author is really good at describing current britain, life in london, the book is brilliant at describing the millennial ‘world’ of social media, politics, etc. but its main character seems to just aimlessly float through her life without any sense of self or purpose, which i personally found very frustrating. the book addresses issues of class, poverty, temp contracts, housing prices, discrimination but it feels very much like a matter-of-fact statement rather than an actual argument to change things. the other characters are mildly more purposeful but very single-purpose and while the novel is interesting but it didn’t really make me feel anything beyond an intense desire to grab the narrator by the shoulders and scream: do something! three stars.

then, i read incendiary by chris cleave. full review here. this book is just unreal and the best fiction i’ve read in close to a year. if i could give ten stars i would.

i’ve now started an american marriage by tayari jones. unless you’ve been living under a rock, this has probably been recommended to you a billion times already, but what can i say, i’m always late lol. i’m only about 100 pages in but seems promising.

in terms of fanfic, i honestly haven’t read much bar this one fantastic spooks au of which i really wish there was more of. i have trolled all of livejournal and dreamwidth to find the rest and came up empty. tragic.

what i’m writing:

funny how the girl on a writing break still managed to put out circ. 9,000 words in a month, lol. granted, pick me choose me love me was written in july, but still.

this being said, i do feel like i took time off and i do feel way better than i did back in july. looking back, i was exhausted and burnt out and felt like i was mostly writing to fulfill people’s expectations, rather than to make me happy. i’m now feeling much more confident with my words. the story that i did write this month was a self-indulgent bit of fun because it was written for a fandom no one cares about, and rather liberating, if i’m honest. i think i needed to write something for me and my audience of three again, and it was great. i genuinely love that story. i do think that if you want to give it a try, it might be one of those that can be read without having watched the show in question because it’s about a side character so a lot of what’s in there is original rather than show-related. if you do want to read it, it’s here: listening to that angel choir.

in terms of upcoming projects, i’m happy to announce that i’m actually excited to get back to castles, which is exactly what i wanted this break to achieve. i’m waiting until i get back to dublin to get back to work but i’m ready to dive back in and honestly can’t wait. as i said above the cut, i would love to put it on the 19th September but i’m not sure that i’ll manage to whip out next chapter this quickly. it’s not unheard of, so we shall see. also, castles is turning a year old on 16 sep, which is absolutely fucking insane. i certainly did not think it would be this massive of a project when i undertook it, lol. the numbers on it both in terms of wordcount and appreciation/hits give me vertigo so i try not to look at them but honestly, i can’t thank you all enough. i know i always say this but i come from very small audiences and fandoms and the amount of love i’ve been getting this past year thanks to all of you has meant the world. thank you.

in terms of one shots, i’ll be mostly focusing on castles this month, so i probably won’t write anything else. this being said, for those of your on tumblr, just be aware that you might see me repost some of the tumblr ficlets that i posted on tumblr these past few months on ao3 soon-ish. i initially decided to keep them on tumblr alone because they were too short but i’ve been having anxiety about tumblr collapsing and these things disappearing into the ether. so, don’t be alarmed, they should be the same, just reposted.

what i’m doing:

honestly, this month has been amazing, especially the past three weeks. i’ve been able to relax, see family & friends, went hiking, had my birthday, hired a boat - it’s been fab. as alluded to before, i’ve also been having fun rewatching spooks, which is definitely a series worth watching, even ten years after it ended. i find it even more fascinating in light of what is going on in afghanistan at the moment, and of course the presence in the show of rupert penry-jones whom i think every straight woman with a pulse fancies, is an added bonus.

anyway, i hope you’re all doing well. see you next month for pumpkin spice lattes (yeah, look, i’m a basic white girl) and the beginning of my seasonal depression.

lots of love,

pebblysand.

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Not Another Mummy!

Chapter One

First Chapter will be on Tumblr only until more can be written. Story originated thanks to this thread. One hundred percent @magellan-88​ ‘s fault. 

Pairing: Stucky   |  Word Count: 2001

Warnings: Language, mild angst, takes place after CA:TWS

Rick O'Connell was a mummy hunter. 

It hadn't always been his job, but he fell into it rather naturally. Well, Evie fell into it by way of raising Imhotep from the dead, damn near dying as the sacrifice to return his dead lover Anck-su-namun to the living, and then banishing him to the underworld. 

Twice.

As he was the (often) put upon hothead Yank to her more stoic (stiff upper lip, Chaps) British ways, her colleagues rolled their eyes at her but always out of Rick's line of sight. Still, there was no one better when it came to weird, ancient woo-woo crap.

So when a telegram came from a woman named Pegs, Evie had dropped everything to run to her side. 

It didn't matter they were crossing warzones or dragging their seventeen-year-old son with them to occupied France, Evie was going.

That was how Rick O'Connell met Steve Rogers, the Captain America, and his best friend, Bucky Barnes, and learned there was such a thing as kindred spirits.

Because Steven Grant Rogers was a punk with balls the size of Texas and no sense of self-preservation, and while Rick would never comment on the size of Evie's metaphorical brass bangers, the first time Bucky Barnes groaned with all the dramatics of a putout housewife and screamed, "Steven Grant Rogers! What the hell are you doing? Get down from there; you shit little punk!" Rick knew he'd finally met someone with his own Evie. 

For Barnes, Rogers was a bit like watching Evie, Alex, and Jonathan all rolled into one, but he at least had Peggy and the Howling Commandos as backup. Rick only had himself - and occasionally Ardeth Bay - to keep his troop of walking disasters from falling into pits, and waking the undead.

In France, the Howlies helped them clear out the spookables in the castle where Pegs had found the books she knew Evie would want to preserve, and the O'Connells and Howling Commandos had parted ways. 

Over the next few years, they occasionally crossed paths, and Rick developed a lasting friendship with Bucky Barnes built on saving their idiots and loving them with their whole hearts. 

So when the news came that Barnes had died, Rick took it hard. He tried to find Steve, but the war was too hot, and any commiseration of grief would have to wait. 

Still, he drowned himself in liquor for a week straight, and Evie, lovely, wonderful Evie, his very own Steve Rogers, poured him repeatedly into bed, where if Rick cried out his grief against her, she never told a soul. 

Then, with the news about Steve, Rick was both saddened and a little at peace. At least they were together. They could spend their afterlife as they had their life. Together. Best friends and, if Rick wasn't mistaken, something a little closer to what he had with Evie than either man shared publicly.

Rick didn't mind. He'd seen them together. Love like that, what did gender matter?

Decades later, when the news splashed across the screen that Steve Rogers was alive, Rick again cried for Bucky Barnes. Seventy years apart. How cruel was this world?

Things had changed by then, some for the better, some worse, but when Steve Rogers once again took up his shield and defeated the enemy falling out of the sky, Rick knew the world hadn't lost both heroes. Steve was still there, still fighting, still a symbol of hope to a nation desperately in need of it.

When the giant of a man showed up at Rick's door, after the Battle for New York, Rick was one hundred and ten years old. The look of surprise on Steve's face made Rick chuckle, even as he welcomed him inside and shuffled back to his recliner. 

They didn't talk about Bucky, though they did chat about Peggy, and Steve asked after Evie, gone now almost thirty years. A long time to be without his soulmate. They'd lost Jonathon before Evie, surprisingly to something as benign as a heart attack, not the loan sharks Rick always figured would do him in. Alex was eighty-six, but that hadn't stopped him from continuing the family business, hunting down artifacts and saving them and humanity when such was required.

Steve smiled softly before saying, "Thank you. People always know what I do or what I've done. They see me as a hero, but you and Evelyn, Alex and Jonathon? You saved the world a couple of times yourselves, but no one knows."

Rick shrugged. "I didn't do it for the world."

Two years later, though Steve didn't visit much, he kept in touch via email or text, which both surprised and touched Rick. He'd moved back to the States after Evie's death, mostly because he couldn't stand to be where she wasn't and had made a life there with Alex hovering.

Then one night, Steve showed up on his doorstep in the pouring rain, still healing from the bruises and broken ribs.

"He's alive."

Rick didn't need to ask who. Just led Steve into the house where the man fell to his knees beside Rick's chair and cried against his thigh like his soul had broken. 

Or maybe it was like the broken bits were slowly forging back together, a beautiful work of Kintsugi, his fractured soul now filling with golden lines of hope. 

When Steve left, it was with determination and purpose Rick hadn't seen on him since the forties. It was like he became a man possessed, determined to find what he'd lost, and Rick wished him every bit of luck. If Rick had the chance to get Evie back, there would be no stopping him. 

Two more years passed, Rick aged a little more, and finally, a knock came at his door. He was one hundred and fourteen when he saw Bucky again. One hundred and fourteen, when he opened the door to a man haunted by trauma Rick couldn't even fathom. 

Still, he opened the door to a grinning Steve, but it was the scowling Barnes he looked at. 

"Jesus fuck you got old," Barnes muttered. 

"Bucky!" Steve gasped. 

Rick laughed so hard he made himself wheeze and waved them in. They joined him in his living room, where he sat, unable to stop smiling. "Good to see you haven't lost your sense of humour."

"Lost some good chunks of memory, but some nice people helped stuff them back in." 

The harsh, cold blue eyes weren't the ones he remembered, but Rick could see him in there. He knew the stories, had heard all the reports. Longest living POW. Assassin. Killed JFK. Some said, war hero. Others cried, villain.  

Rick knew it was likely a little of both in Barnes' mind. 

But Steve still looked at Bucky like he hung the moon, and Bucky occasionally linked his pinky finger through Steve's when he thought Rick wouldn't notice. 

"It's nice to see you boys back together." He jerked his chin at Steve. "That one mopes around something fierce."

"We're figuring it out," Steve said, enough force in the sentence to make it clear he was tired of Bucky running. It had taken two years to get the man to stop. "We've worked things out with Stark. Tony's a hothead, he's angry, but he gets Bucky wasn't in control as the soldier."

Rick watched Barnes' flinch. "No, but it was still your hands, right, Buck?"

Blue eyes darted to his and then away. "How the hell are you still alive?"

"Jeez, Buck!" Steve growled. 

Rick chuckled, enjoying the role reversal. "Clean living." 

They both snorted. 

"Clean my ass. I've never seen anyone out drink Dum Dum before. What gives, O'Connell?" Barnes muttered. 

Rick glanced at Steve. There was a pink flush to the man's cheeks, a clear indication this was something they'd talked about, but Steve had never asked. Rick had always wondered if it was out of self-preservation. Maybe he thought asking would jinx whatever link Steve had left to his past. 

"Alex?" he called out. "Could you come in here?"

"You sure, Dad?" 

Steve and Bucky both stiffened and exchanged a look, likely surprised they hadn't known Alex was there. 

"I thought you said Alex was still in London?" Steve frowned. 

"I lied," Rick smirked. "Yeah, boy. Get your arse in here."

He trotted down the hall and into the living room. "Highya, fellas!"

Bucky and Steve stared, gaping from Alex to Rick and back. 

"Shit," Bucky hissed. "They got you too? How come no one knows?"

Alex leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, grin wide, his face as smooth and unwrinkled as it had been at twenty-five, the year he stopped ageing. The bright, burnished blond of his mop of unruly curls, something he'd inherited from Evie and only recently allowed to grow out, fell over his forehead and into his eyes.

"He's not a super-soldier," Rick explained before either man could have kittens. "Seems there was a side effect to the Bracelet of Anubis no one knew about."

Alex spread his arms and gave a cheeky grin. "Looks like I'm immortal."

Rick slapped a hand to his face. "Unageing is not immortal. You can still die, dumbass!"

"That explains him, but what about you?" Steve asked.

"Something to do with the temple." Rick shrugged. "I went through the door with him. Some of the power rubbed off. I age, just… slower."

"Hence the reason you look a spry eighty?" Barnes mumbled.

Rick chuckled, reached up, and pulled the prosthetics from his face. "More like a spry fifty."

"Jesus!" Steve's eyes went wide. "I never even guessed!"

"Alex is good with the face paint. We've had to be. And that's another reason we moved back here. People were starting to remark on the uncanny resemblance of my grandson to my son."

Steve and Bucky exchanged a look.  

"What?" Rick murmured. "Surely, this isn't too much after witches, aliens, and giant green Hulks?"

"No. No, it's not that," Steve said, quick to reassure them. "It's just…"

"Punk had a second reason for coming today. The Avengers found some woo-woo shit. He wanted you to take a look at it. Stark's fancy AI can tell us lots, but she ain't you."

Rick leaned forward, his back cracking, thankful to be straightened. "I'm no Evie, but squirt over there took after her for smarts. She was always the brain. I was just the muscle."

"Come on, Dad." Alex sauntered in and nudged him. "You learned loads from Mum. Plus, that Warrior for God thing comes in handy on occasion."

"Warrior for God?" Bucky asked.

Rick worked the cuff off his right arm, showing them the tattoo hidden beneath it. "Sorry, fellas. Didn't tell you everything that happened with the Scorpion King."

"Yeah. Like how we used the Book of the Dead to bring Mum back to life," Alex grinned. 

"I'm sorry. You did what now?" Steve asked. 

Rick laughed and shook his head. "All in good time. Alex, get the whiskey. Let's see what you've got."

Steve rose and returned to the door where he'd left a backpack, while Alex grabbed four glasses and a bottle and dumped an unhealthy amount into each one. The bag clanked when Steve set it on the floor between his feet, and Rick arched a brow. 

"This is what we found." He placed the golden box on the coffee table. 

Rick gave a low whistle. "Jonathon would have liked the look of that."

"It's really brilliant, isn't it?" Alex mumbled as he crouched to take a closer look. "Look at the way the rubies are inlaid. It's like someone wanted it to appear as if it were dripping blood." He spun it slowly, taking in the images and raised glyphs. "Shite, Dad! Do you know what this is?"

Rick didn't get a chance to answer no as Alex was already running out of the room. 

"So, is he as reckless as Evie?" Bucky asked, the first semblance of a smirk since his arrival twitching the man's lips.

"Worse. He's got a nose for treasure like Jonathon and my stubbornness," Rick chuckled. "Then, there's his mouth."

"Which he definitely got from you," Steve chuckled.  

Rick didn't dispute it. 

Alex returned and dropped a book as thick as Steve's arm on the table, causing it to jump, the chest to skitter across it, and only the reflexes of two super-soldiers to keep everything from going sideways. 

"Alex! Calm your enthusiasm!" Rick barked. 

"No! No, calming!" The manic gleam in his eyes never boded well for any expedition. "Look!" 

He wrenched the book open, sending dust and the scent of musty pages spinning, but it opened on an illustrated page of a female warrior standing over the bodies of the slain. 

"Ah, no," Rick groaned. "Not another mummy!"

[extemporaneousmusings]

2020 reflections below

To be honest, 2020 has been the best year I’ve had since 2016. Obviously on a global scale it has been absolutely devastating, and there are aspects of my life that were significantly impacted by the pandemic—I had to leave Greece suddenly in March, several months earlier than anticipated, and in doing so lost some crucial time that I was supposed to have spent with the physical materials of my dissertation—but on a personal level this year has been the most stable and comfortable I’ve been since my accident in 2017. I was not dealing with a massive physical or mental health crisis, or the immediate aftermaths of either of those things, and that is something I do not take lightly.

I spent the first 3 months of the year hiking across Greece, basically. It was really tough—I was pretty depressed, although my meds had just been boosted so I was feeling better than I had in fall of 2019, and obviously missing Ian and Macy was not an easy thing to sit with—but I did it! I had literally planned my entire life for the past 5 years around this time in Greece, and even though we didn’t completely finish the program and the scheduled trips, I still accomplished what I set out to do: I was able to do the hikes and got to explore the country that I love. After my accident, my sole goal was to be able to get my ankle to a place where I could do the program. It was really fucking hard, and there’s still so much more work I can do on my ankle (which is a source of deep resentment for me, something I’m working on) but at the end of the day, I got myself to a place where I could, with some difficulty, do this really physically strenuous thing that had been such a major goal of mine for years. I got to travel the Greek countryside and see hundreds of archaeological sites in a way that is basically impossible unless you’re doing it with the American School. Mentally I was not as present as I would have liked to be, which is something I think I’ll always regret, but I gave it all I had, mentally and physically. Even if I am hazy on a lot of the details, I’ll remember the exultant physical sensations of reaching a peak and taking in the view below, the sweet succulent taste of oranges in the height of their season, plucked straight off the tree, searching every museum for my pots, pushing myself physically to the limit every day but still being able to wake up and do it again the next, trying regional cuisine from across the country, and the camaraderie that all of us built together on that bus and on those hikes. And of course, the saving grace and defining point of the school year for me was spending time with Ev. He already was one of my best friends, so the opportunity to go on this adventure together was so exciting, but he really kept me sane, made me laugh with his stupid fucking jokes, stayed in the back of the pack with me when I was having especially bad ankle days, and our companionship brought me so much joy and support. It’s very likely that we’ll never live in the same place together again, and I will always cherish the time we had together this past year.

My life since returning to Cincy in March has been very stable and consistent. Except for having to TA on campus on Friday’s during the fall, we’ve both just been at home. E’s been out of a job the whole time, but we are very lucky that (bc Cincy is so affordable) just my grad student salary has been able to financially support us. Money is tight, all my savings are gone after Macy’s surgery in July, but we are very lucky to have support systems to rely upon should we need to (fingers crossed we won’t), and that for now, just my income alone can pay all of the bills so that Ian does not have to be on the front lines at the bar, physically interacting with everyone who is still comfortable and selfish enough to be out partying during a global pandemic.

The biggest joy for me of this year was getting to spend 8 beautiful months with Macy. We had her for 3 months before I left for Greece last September, but I feel so blessed to have had more time with the three of us as a family this year, and to spend so much uninterrupted time with her because we were just in the apartment all of the time. I’ve written what seems like a lot about losing her, so I’m not really going to dwell on it, but despite her death I am still so happy to have had the time with her that I did, and to have loved and been so loved in return. I’m hopeful that I can build a relationship with Lulu like I had with Macy, and that as she settles in and settles down, and becomes secure in this new home, that our new family of three can thrive. Another element to this is the fact that basically our only physical socialization with friends came from going on dog walks, mainly with S&D. Since March we’ve seen them almost weekly and it’s been such a good routine and way to see them safely. We’ll all be getting more of a workout with Lulu, though. She’s much more intense about walks than Macy was.

When I first got back from Greece, I needed to just luxuriate in being home, and shortly after that I fell into the hockey rabbit hole. Which has been lovely, truly! I had been feeling a bit stagnant fandom wise, and it was so nice to have a whole new world opened to me, and to see a bunch of my mutuals all going through the process simultaneously was so fun. I still haven’t written anything, and I’m definitely not as involved as a lot of people, but I’ve never been someone who is super funny in quippy posts or makes a lot of connections quickly. But I’ve really been enjoying it, and I’m hoping that in 2021 I’ll be able to post some fic and make some more friends. My ephemeral relationships with people on tumblr have been important to me for many years, but I definitely have appreciated it the most this past year. Tumblr is a really big part of my life, and I love interacting with people/when people interact with my personal posts. It’s nice to have found a little pocket of the internet where I am safe and comfortable and around people I genuinely like.

Getting into hockey did divert my attention from my mental health, and the ways it was impacting my work, for a solid two months, though. I very much used it as a crutch to avoid some bigger issues that needed my focus, which I was diverting to think about big men fucking each other. In August I started seeing a therapist again. We had worked together briefly after my manic episode, because my old therapist had gotten a new job so she took me on for like a month before I left for Greece, and working with her again has been so helpful. I am so fortunate to have healthcare through grad school that makes going to therapy extremely affordable. It’s seriously been a saving grace for me. By working on my mental health consistently I have brought myself to a better, more stable and comfortable place than I’ve been in in years, and I feel empowered to continue on this path to keep accumulating skills and mental fortitude to help me in the future.

As a result of my consistent work on my mental heath, I’ve also been able to develop a much better, healthier relationship with work/my research more specifically. This summer I was in a place where I felt like it was impossible for me to write my proposal, let alone an actual dissertation, but I did write my proposal! And I’ve been building up routines and stamina and now feel like I actually can get this PhD. Which is great. I know it’s not going to be easy, and that I have a lot of difficulty ahead of me still, but I feel very confident in my ideas, and I am so much better equipped to handle things than before.

So yeah, I think that’s pretty much it. For 2021, I want to just keep going in the path that I’ve been forging for myself. The next things I’ll be focusing on are more intentionally working with my ankle, to try and alleviate the somewhat antagonistic relationship I have with it, and to feel more physically capable. I think that re-integrating yoga into my life will be big here, it’s been really helpful for me before, but I’ve let it slip, and then we’ll see what else I can do to help with this. I also want to continue to reinforce a work routine that suits me and maintain/adjust it when I (almost certainly) make the move back to Athens in September. And finally, I really want to post some TK/Patty fic! I have some ideas, some word docs, some (imo) well-selected lyrics for titles, and I just need to dig in a little more and try and unclench my mental knot of perfectionism, as I’ve been learning to ease it with regards to work stuff.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Leave No One Behind Ch 1: You Gotta Have A Plan

Co-Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Chapter Summary: After returning from Sudan following their arrest, Sam and Ari go their separate ways…but Ari just can’t let things go. He needs a plan to break the refugees he left in the camp out. And he comes up with a plan so ridiculous that it just might work. That is, if he can pull together the right team.

Unfortunately he knows that the 2 people he probably needs and wants there the most, are going to be the toughest to convince. After all, they are siblings…

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings:  Ari Levinson x OFC Hannah Horowitz

A/N: Now, we believe from what research and reviews tell us, that RSDR takes place basically between 1979 and 1982 (the real Operation Brothers upon which it is based upon ran until 1984). To keep this as historically factual as possible, we have done all the research we can find on Mossad, the history of the Jewish people in the 40s through 80s…the rest is purely down to our imagination.

If anything is factually wrong, we mean no offence. Chalk it down to slight creative license and take this for what it is- a work of fiction.

Before you continue, we recommend you read this to introduce the ‘cast’- Leave No One Behind: Meet the Characters

Also Tags will be done by reblogs as Tumblr seems to, once again, have been taken over by Hydra and isn’t giving everyone notifications.

Leave No One Behind Masterlist  Main Masterlist 

Chapter Song: Across the Universe by the Beatles

“Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes, that call me on and on across the universe…”

March 1979

Ari Levinson was a man who very rarely liked to sit still. He’d been the same as a boy, always needing to be doing something. And right now, even in a dark, sweaty, smelly cell in Sudan he was no different. Using the bars in the roof that gave them the only light and air into the area, he was doing pull ups, counting his way up to 100. When he finished his reps he dropped down with a sigh and made his way over to sit by Sammy who was leaning against the wall.

Ari glanced over at his friend, his fellow agent who simply looked at him without saying a word, and then looked away, both of them glancing up as Kabede, their in-country contact so to speak, walked over and sat besides Sammy.

“I heard the guards talking.” he said softly in his thick, African accent as Ari sat, his arms hanging over his knees. “They think we are smugglers. We need to get out of here.”

“Mr. Guy Thomas.” one of the guards called. All 3 of them exchanged a look, before Ari stood up and made his way to the cell door.

“You called?” he asked.

“You, and your friends…” the guard said, gun slung over his shoulder “You come with me…”

They did as they were told and were ushered into a small room, where they were unceremoniously handed their gear and told they were free to go. Ari did nothing but smile at Sammy, who rolled his eyes, because it was a knowing joke between everyone who ever ran a mission with Ari that he could fall in pig shit and come out smelling like roses.

Ari fished a packet of cigarettes out of his back pack, along with his shades and slipped them onto his eyes. He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked out into the sun, lighting his cigarette as he went. He paused for a moment, looking at the man who was leaning against a blue car, watching him. He jerked his head and Ari stepped towards him.  

“And you are?” Ari asked, eyeing him up.

“I'm the reason you're out of there.” The man said, pushing himself off the car. Ari exchanged a look with Sammy as the man continued “Walton Bowen, American.”

“No shit.” Sammy said, his eyes still on the man as Ari shook his hand.

“Yeah?” Walton looked at him before he moved to shake his hand too “Cultural attaché, the embassy in Khartoum.”

“Oh. Well, you must have your hands full, considering the flourishing cultural scene in Sudan.” Ari said, the sarcasm evident in his tone and Walton gave a little laugh.

“Not nearly as flourishing as you with your anthropology studies, I'm sure.” Walton said, his voice level but Ari could detect the note of disbelief he carried. “We got a call from DC, you gents had gotten yourselves into a bit of a pickle.”

As Ari kept his eyes on the man and his face straight, besides him Sammy pointed

“Is that our stuff in the back of your car?”

Ari looked at Sammy then round to the car as Walton nodded.

“Yes, it is.  I'm sorry about the hasty packing…” he said, gesturing to the car “…but I know you have a flight in less than five hours to London.”

Ari snorted, shaking his head a little. Of course we do, damned it Ethan.

“Where are you off to after that, boys?” Walton continued.

Ari didn’t reply, instead he chuckled, and turned from the man, walking over to where Kabede was stood a few feet away.

“Looks like they're calling me back. Are you gonna be okay?” Ari asked

“Yes” Kabede assured him “I will bring more families.”

“We'll find a better way.” Ari nodded, giving the man a friendly embrace, patting him on the back before he turned around and walked back towards Walton and Sammy.

“Hope you got my toothbrush…” he said, not stopping as he passed them both and made his way to the car. “It’s new.”

After a few hours layover in London, they were called to a desk and given tickets for a flight back to Isreal for an hour later.  Ari fell asleep before the taxi down the runway had even finished and awoke a few hours later, stretching and ordering himself a beer. Before much longer the plane began it’s descent into Ben Guiron Airport and Ari let out a sigh. He knew he should be glad to be home, but he wasn’t. He hated leaving a job half done. But he wouldn’t deny he was looking forward to a shower. He felt disgusting, looked disgusting, smelt disgusting. Thank fuck Ethan had the sense to book an entire row out for him and Sammy each.

They cleared customs easily and were met by a driver who waved them over to a car.

“Home?” The man asked Ari as he took his bags from him to take them to the trunk. .

“Office.” Ari corrected, as he wrenched open the passenger door of the car. “You coming?” he asked Sammy as he sat down.

“Nah. Nah, I'm going back home.” Sammy looked at him.

“What?” Ari said, frowning as he got back out, leaning on the roof of the car.

“Back to the clinic.” Sammy said with a small smile.

Ari looked around, before he shut the door and walked over to Sammy, his mouth open in surprise.

What the hell are you talking about?” he asked gently.

“I called Ethan back in London, got a message to Hannah. She’s picking me up.” Sammy said taking a deep breath “I'm done.”

Sammy moved to pull Ari into an embrace, which Ari returned, albeit it a little half- heartedly as he was still reeling from Sammy’s revelation.

“Why?” he asked, patting Sammy on the back.

“I love you, man.” Sammy said, pulling away “You're a lucky guy. But when the luck runs out, then...  you gotta have a plan, and you never have one. So... I'm out. “

Sammy looked around.

“You're out?” Ari said flatly, his eyebrows raising.

“I'm out.”

“Sammy.” Ari said gently as Sam turned away. He paused and turned to face Ari again, smiling.

“Goodbye, my friend.”

Sam quickly walked away down towards the pick-up area outside the terminal, as Ari called his name again, a little louder, but he ignored him.

Ari sighed and looked upwards, wiping a hand over his face before he glanced at Sam’s retreating back just in time to see a flurry of dark, wavy hair rushing towards him. Ari continued to observe from a distance as Sammy hugged his sister back, her face pressed into the side of his neck, Sammy gently rubbing at her back. When he finally let her go, Ari finally got a look at her and he had to smile. The last time he had seen Hannah had been almost 3 years ago, at her husband Andy’s funeral and Ari was pleased to see she looked better than she had that day. Her hair was longer, her cheeks were fuller again, no longer hollow with grief. Her skin was darker, more tanned...she looked healthy, back to her vivacious self along with, he hoped, that spark that bounced in her deep blue eyes, Eyes he knew so well.

He had first met Hannah through Sammy when she was 17, and he was 24. He had liked her from the off, despite being 7 years older than her and there’d been a spark, there was no denying that. But for various reasons, despite a 3 month long sort of fling, it hadn’t worked out. He’d backed off, instead admiring her from afar, constantly telling himself he was too old and no good for her, and then he had met Sarah. Their relationship at first had been based on total, physical attraction and had been a total whirlwind. They had married later that same year after discovering Sarah was pregnant, Ari wanting to do the right thing by her. Their daughter Maya was born 7 months later and for the first 4 years, he had to admit he’d been happy.

Meanwhile, Hannah had started dating another one of their agents and friends, Andy Horowitz.  They’d married too and then sadly mere months after they had married Andy had been killed on a mission they’d been running some 3 years ago, a mission Ari had been in charge of.

Hannah said she didn’t blame Ari, but he’d seen it written on every inch of her pretty face. She’d hardly been able to look him in the eyes since Andy’s death, and as a result he had made no effort to reach out in the 3 years since Andy’s funeral. Which he knew was a selfish, shitty thing to do on his behalf, as they’d all been so close, family close even, but Hannah had always worn her heart on her sleeve and he couldn’t face the turmoil and heartbreak she was emanating.

Sammy assured him she didn’t hold him at fault, not really and that she was just upset, compounded  by the fact she hadn’t been there and was only hearing everything 2nd hand. But still, it did nothing to assuage Ari’s guilt. Andy’s life cut so tragically short, and Hannah left widowed at such a young age…

The driver’s voice shook Ari out of his thoughts, and when his eyes focussed again he realised he was staring at nothing. Hannah and Sammy both long gone. With a nod to the man he climbed back in the car and they set off for HQ.

**** "You're pissed." Sammy told his sister, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Hanna didn't answer. She stared at the license plate of the car right before them as if it was the magic combination to some sort of treasure chest. She was avoiding looking at her brother. Of course she was pissed, that was out of the question, but she didn't want to discuss that in the middle of the early evening exasperating traffic. Why was the way out of the airport always so crammed with cars?

Sammy turned to look at her and read the signs like an open book. White knuckles from the intensity with which her hands where holding the steering wheel, furrowed brow and a twitch of the mouth where she was biting the inside of her right cheek. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You are pissed. I can tell, Hannah."

"No, I'm not" she replied trying to sound as convincing as possible and hit the car horn three times. "Oh, come on! We all have places to be!"

"Yes, you are. And honking the horn while in a traffic jam won't get you anywhere quicker, you know that?" Sammy said raising an eyebrow at her sudden outburst.

"No, it won't. But it will keep me from slapping you across your stupid face." she bit back, admitting her irritation.

"Ok." Sammy said preparing for what was about to come slouched on the passenger seat "What's on your mind?"

"Damnit, Sammy. You know full well what's on my mind. You know perfectly fucking well." she hissed without even bothering to look at him.

He sighed and nodded as an only answer. Avoiding his sister's gaze, he turned and looked through the passenger window.

"Yet, there you go again." she resumed after a minute, once she had steadied her voice and swallowed the lump in her throat. "Getting yourself arrested. You could have been killed right there on the spot! I just ...."

"Hey…" Sammy said gently rubbing her thigh "It’s ok. I'm ok, right?"

Hannah nodded and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. There were a few minutes of silence in the car as the traffic resumed and Sammy waited patiently for his sister to get herself together before speaking.

"I spoke to Ethan from London, told him I'm out." Sam said.

"What?" Hannah asked surprised looking at her brother before rapidly turning her eyes to the road ahead.

"That last mission... it was just... I'm done. Can't do it anymore." Sam fumbled with the words while he rubbed the scars on his right hand with his left one.

Hannah looked at her brother again, before she sighed, concern flooding her system.

"What happened Sammy?"  she asked, her tone soft “It must be something bad to make you want to leave it all behind.”

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. It's just… I'm tired of all that shit and need to get out, that's all." Sam replied trying to convince his sister and, most importantly himself, it was the right decision.

The sight of that woman letting herself drown in the river had taken a toll on him. It haunted him at night and whenever he closed his eyes. He could have done more, he should have saved her, he should have found her under that muddy water and swum with her to safety. But he hadn't been able to and he didn't want to go into another mission where he would lose lives instead of saving them.

"So, what's the plan?" Hannah asked a moment later trying to snap her brother out from the place he seemed to be lost in.

"The plan is getting home, have a shower, eat something decent and sleep till the new full moon." Sam deadpanned with a faint smile.

"I’d also consider a haircut." Hanna quipped smiling at him. "That mop doesn't suit you, neither does the moustache!"

"Yeah, well. Not much you can do when you're down there and under for six weeks." Sam stated before he smiled at her "You, on the other hand, look great, Han"

"Well, that's what you get when you shower and wash your clothes. You stink." she said winking at him and he laughed.

"Seriously though, what are you gonna do? “ Hannah asked him after a moments pause “You gotta have a plan."

"That's exactly what I told Ari..." Sammy shrugged and Hannah’s head whipped once more to look at him.

"Ari?" she asked double checking her brother "Was Ari on the mission with you? Actually, don’t bother answering because of course he was..." she trailed off.

"That reckless, lucky son of a bitch who never seems to have a back-up plan." Sam said before lighting a cigarette. “He was there alright.”

"I'd say the man without a plan has some things very well planned." she mused while tapping the steering wheel with her fingers.

"Yeah, well, as I told him I wanna go back to the clinic. If that's ok with you, that is."

"Of course it is Sam. It's our clinic, remember? And we could do with your help, in fact, it would be a blessing. We've been very busy lately." she said excited by the prospect of having her brother with her again. "Mum will be thrilled to hear that.” “How is she?” Sam asked.

“She’s ok.” Hannah said “I’ve been trying to get her to take it easy, consider retiring but…you know what she’s like.” Sammy snorted “Stubborn, opinionated, always thinks she knows best…that’s where you get it from.” Hannah merely raised her eyebrow and smirked a little. “I dare you to tell her that on Sunday…” “Sunday?” “Yeah, she hasn't told you yet but you're coming for lunch." Hannah smirked as Sammy rolled his eyes, smiling fondly “And she won’t take no for an answer.”

***** “Ladies and gentlemen. This afternoon, historic documents concluding the Treaty of Peace between the Arab Republic of Egypt and the State of Israel will be signed…” Ari could hear the reporter on the news growing louder as he strode through the Mossad HQ towards Ethan’s office.

“Is he in?” he asked Ethan’s secretary, not bothering to wait for an answer.

“Wait, don't go in there…”

“Thanks.” he said, ignoring her as he pushed the door open, giving a small annoyed huff of a laugh as he tossed his back pack to his left where it landed with a thud. He then made his way over to the decanter of scotch on the shelves to the right of the room, Ethan not even bothering to look at him from where he was leaning against his desk, his own tumbler in hand, watching the TV, dressed in a crisp black suit and white shirt as always, his tie impeccably knotted.

“The Prime Minister is about to sign the most important peace accord in our lifetime and he can't enjoy it because of some remote tribe of our people getting massacred on a continent no one cares about.” Ethan said a little emotively, his British accent crisp as ever as he took a sip of his drink.

“Well, maybe you should let me do my job instead of pulling me out.”  Ari said, picking up his drink and turning towards the couch at the side of the room.

“Your job includes getting arrested?” Ethan asked, as he stood up straight and turned off the TV. Ari sighed as he slumped on the couch, one leg bent with his foot resting on the low coffee table in front of him “Or is this just another by-product of you being reckless and totally out of control?” he looked at Ari for the first time  since he had walked into the room.

“Sudan. My god, Ari…” Ethan snorted angrily, picking up his decanter to top up the glass. “An enemy country in a perpetual state of... fucked-up-ness. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that hiding refugees in a refugee camp was a pretty brilliant idea.” Ari said simply with no trace of irony, as he scratched at an itch on his side before necked his liquor.

“And how do you propose to get them out of there?” Ethan looked at him.

Ari sighed and placed the empty glass on the side next to the phone “Still working on that.”

“This job pays in migraines.” Ethan shook his head as he crossed the room and topped up Ari’s glass. “You look like shit.” he said, pointing to him with the hand that held the decanter which he placed on the coffee table.

“Thank you.” Ari replied “Smell like shit, too. I was under for six weeks.” he reached for the now once again full glass as Ethan sat on a chair opposite him.

“How's Sarah?” Ethan asked.

Ari looked down, his finger tapping on the rim of the glass before he placed it back on the side and slumped down on the sofa again, his eyes focussing downwards on his thigh as it bent upwards in front of him, his hand hooking underneath it.

“She left me.”

“Your life's a mess.” Ethan stated and Ari simply raised his eyebrows in agreement “Well, maybe this is a blessing in disguise, then.”

“What is?” Ari asked, as Ethan took a drink. “Are you taking me off this?”

“Exfil is going to come up with some alternative plans for the Ethiopians.” Ethan said as Ari tipped is head back with a frustrated sigh, his hands flying out to his side. “Then we'll discuss with the boss how best to move forward.”

“Ethan, don't do that.” Ari pleaded sitting forward “You know those guys are morons, they're gonna waste months on plans that aren't viable.  Months that we don't have. You gotta send me back.”  

“Go home, take a shower, spend some time with the family.”  

“Ah Fuck!” Ari sighed, before his voice grew louder and he crossed his arms, taking on the tone and appearance of a sullen child “No.”  

“No?” Ethan looked at him “It's done, Ari. You're not going anywhere.”

And that was that. Ethan wasn’t for turning. In the end Ari had stormed out of the office, his mood darkening by the second, and it didn’t get any better when he arrived home to find the place dark, empty and a message from Sarah on the answer phone telling him she’d taken Maya to her parents place.

Her parent’s place in fucking New Jersey

“Spend some time with the family…” Ethan’s words rang around his head as he slumped on the bed, beer in hand looking at the now empty side of the closet that had contained most of Sarah’s clothes.

Yeah, chance would be a fine thing.

**** Ari spent the following days on a semi-comatose state. He kept strict grooming and feeding habits, which was something he quite enjoyed after six weeks of not being able to give much thought to it.  He also took care of the chores now that it was only him at the house and set up a work-out routine to keep his one-track mind occupied and allow himself to physically blow off some steam.

He was frustrated to say the least. Frustrated at being pulled out by Ethan, who wasn't even willing to reconsider his reinstatement for the time being. And frustrated on how, and it ached to admit, he missed his daughter. He had seen Maya last before leaving for Ethiopia and he had told her, and so had he thought at the time, he would come back home and spend all the time possible with her. But she wasn't there when he came back.

Surprisingly enough, he didn't miss Sarah or, at least, not in the way he should. He did miss spending time with his family or the feeling of having a family to get back to and Sarah was part of that family. And, to tell the truth, he had never been home in this house alone. And, though he was beginning to come to terms with the fact this was his life going forward, he wasn't sure if he liked it. But, on the other hand he was also relieved. Sarah and he had been strained and fighting for so long before he left for the mission that her leaving had almost been a relief.  And, in a sense, he was glad she had done it before he was the one who had to suggest that maybe they needed to concede things weren't working between them because, frankly, Ari Levinson was a chicken shit when it came to stuff like that

But what Ari wasn't was cut out for the mundane, office life. A couple of weeks later his mind was in a state of turmoil. He took a trip out to New Jersey for a few weeks under Ethan’s instructions where he spent some quality time with Maya and had a very frank discussion with Sarah. The papers she had left him to sign upon his return from Ethiopia were legal documents which would enter them both into a legal period of 2 years separation and upon the conclusion therefore a Divorce would be mutually agreed. There was no way back for the pair of them, and he was relieved that she felt the same way and signed the papers in presence of an attorney who assured him this was the easiest, least messy way to go about things. Sarah had also agreed to return to Tel Aviv at some point as she conceded that keeping Maya at the other side of the ocean wasn’t fair to him or her. But when that would be, she never said.

All in all he wasn’t feeling great when he returned to HQ at the end of April especially when he was told that Exfil had yet to come up with any decent sort of plan. He told Ethan, once again, that they were fucking morons but was told to steer well clear. But Ari had never been one to stay out of things, or pay any attention to his boss when he thought he knew better. Day and night the idea of getting the refugees out of that Sudanese refugee camp was still haunting him. He had to come up with something and it had to be as soon as possible, before those Exfil idiots fucked it up completely. So after weighing up the situation for week or so more, he decided to get on with it off radar. He knew the best way to get Ethan to hear him out would be coming up with a fool-proof plan-something so absurd, far-fetched if you will, that no one would suspect they were smuggling Jewish refugees out of Ethiopia.

So he did it by stealth, getting on with his normal duties of paper work and communicating with other Intelligence Operatives across the globe playing the co-ordination role Ethan had dumped him in and putting the final touches on the last mission reports he had been doing at Mossad Head Quarters. His day job so to speak.

The night times, however, well, they were his own. And he used them to do a bit of research of his own.

He tried not to be spotted when he went to the archives department and asked the assistant there for a specific microfilm. Last thing he wanted was Ethan or one of his subordinates sniffing he was up to something. At least not before he could flesh his plan out in order to give a proper presentation to Ethan.

And finally, after an arduous period of research and countless sleepless nights it came to him, one warm night at the end of June. He was examining one map of the area on the computer when he noticed the sea. They could do it, the answer had to be in the sea. Ari felt a sudden surge of optimism and started digging into the different possibilities for a way out through sea instead of land and a feasible cover. His smile reached his eyes when he spotted just what he was looking for and a hunch told him to go for it.

It took a few days for him to pull everything together and get what he needed, and contact the people he needed. Which was why, early one July morning he was pacing the Comms room, rubbing his beard nervously, ironically dressed in the same clothes he had been in a few days prior when the idea had originally occurred to him. It was funny now, how he didn’t have Sarah pecking his head about his outfits he simply donned his preferred casual clothing to the office, something his single friends at work seemed to do a hell of a lot. Speaking of which, he was feeling stressed out after a heated argument with his estranged wife over the phone earlier that day about him seeing Maya. She had kept her side of the bargain, returning to Tel Aviv, but as a result he’d moved out of the house, renting a two bed apartment not too far from what had been their family home. He’d had regular access and visits to his daughter, which had been fantastic, but tonight he’d been due to take Maya out for dinner. However, Sarah had changed her mind at the last minute, something to do with her work shifts and it being a school night. When he had pointed out that she didn’t give a shit about her school when she took her over to New Jersey for the best part of a month she’d simply called him an asshole and put the phone down. Unable to concentrate on anything he’d gone for a run and returned to the office when it was dark and most of the people had gone, to find there was still no communication waiting for him, to let him know if his plan was going to work.

And then, finally the fax from the Sudanese Tourist Board arrived and he knew he had a great plan. Now, he had to sell it to Ethan and it couldn't wait, despite the ungodly hour…

“Ethan! I have an idea.” Ari said as he climbed the stairs to Ethan’s apartment, backpack over his shoulder, his arms laden with rolled up maps and papers.

“It’s four o'clock in the morning.” Ethan said exasperatedly.

“It's a really good idea.” Ari assured him as he continued up the stairs. Ethan simply stood back as he entered his apartment “Do you always sleep in a silk robe?” Ari asked, turning to look at him before he headed into the living room. Ethan paused for a moment before he followed him in, shutting the door behind him.

Ethan listened patiently as he explained his plan, and for the most part simply nodded. When Ari finished, Ethan leaned back and smiled softly at him, his fingers drumming on the map Ari had spread over the table.

“You know what Ari…” Ethan said, a smile on his face “This is so ludicrous…it might just work…but you’ll need a good team.”

Ari smirked and handed Ethan another piece of paper, watching as his boss scanned down the names of the Agents and former Agents he had identified.

“This…” Ethan looked at him, shaking his head “This is not a team, it’s a recipe for disaster!”

“They’re the best of the best…” Ari shrugged.

"But the Navons?” Ethan looked at Ari, shaking his head in disbelief “You mean you want both of them? Seriously after everything that’s-?”

"Oh, no, my bad…” Ari said, cutting him off and reaching over and scribbling something on the paper as Ethan let out a sigh of relief before he looked up, his eyes twinkling as Ethan let out a groan as he spotted the correction Ari had made to the name. “She’s a Horowitz now..."

**** It took them a week to get all the details fleshed out to a point where Ethan was happy to take it to his superiors. Ari would have done it that same morning he had gone knocking on Ethan’s door but his boss had insisted on details and plans…something Ari wasn’t all that bothered by, preferring to work in the spur of the moment. Still, Ethan had insisted that he wouldn’t be able to sell the idea without answering questions, and had lectured him in great detail on the 5Ps, or 6 Ps in this case…

Proper preparation prevents piss poor performance…

He had to admit, however, Ethan had been right. As he began to spell out his ideas and plans to Isaacs, the Mossad Chief, he found himself being able to speak confidently, not just because he had conviction in his idea, but because he never once found himself lacking the ability to explain.

“The majority are coming in from Gondar and Tigray right there…” Ari said, leaning over from his chair to point at the map which was spread out on the desk. “But we can't land our planes anywhere near there.”

“Why?” Isaacs asked, looking at Ari from where he sat in his chair.

“Derg brought in the Russians and Cubans. It's limiting everyone's mobility. The chance of landing a plane without being noticed is non-existent.” Ari explained “The only way to get a substantial number out is by sea.”

“Ethiopia's practically landlocked.” Isaacs said, leaning forward and gesturing at the map.

Ari nodded in agreement, his hand rubbing at his beard before he looked at Ethan who was sat next to him in the other chair. Ethan inclined his eyes at Isaacs, instructing Ari to continue, so he did.

“But Sudan isn't.”

Isaacs paused from looking at the map and then glanced at Ari to Ethan and then back again.

“Seriously?”

Ari nodded.

Isaacs leaned back. “Something tells me this is going to take a bit longer than a few hours to explain…”

Ethan smiled a little and nodded “You could say that, yes.” “Ok…” Isaacs sighed, reaching for his phone “Let me make a few calls. I need to get my advisors down here…and food.” So that’s what he did. Ari found himself repeating various points again and again to different people as they headed in with various files, paper, pens…and he was getting a little frustrated as the night started to draw in. But he kept calm, taking his lead from Ethan who jumped in whenever he could sense Ari was starting to lose his cool a little, and Ari was thankful for the fact his boss was there.

“How long does it take to get from Sudan to Sinai by boat?” Isaacs asked.

“It takes three days.” Ethan began “You can…” “Just a-- Hold on a sec.” Isaacs said as Ari dropped his hands to his hips, leaning back against the large cupboard he was stood in front of. “Even if this could work, you'd need a team of agents on the ground. A team with international background.” Ethan and Ari exchanged a look, and both nodded at Isaacs as he continued “How are you gonna keep our agents  that long inside an enemy state?”

“This is where it gets really good.” Ethan said, nodding at Ari who pulled an aerial shot out of the pack of files he had brought with him. Ari handed it to Isaacs.

“Red Sea Diving Resort.  It's a hotel built by an Italian company in the early '70s.” Ari explained as he walked back to his leaning post, arms folded. “Fifty kilometres north of Port Sudan. The Italian company abandoned it five years ago.  Now the Sudanese government is looking to lease it, to boost tourism.”

The room fell silent as Isaacs looked at the photo, his expression perplexed which then morphed into surprise. He looked at Ari, how shifted a little uncomfortably, waiting for him to comment on the idea. Instead Isaacs stood up, and moved to his phone.

“Ask the Defence Minister if he can join us.” he said simply, and Ethan glanced at Ari, giving him a smile.

About twenty minutes later, the Defence Minister a Mr Henry Weiss joined them and listened carefully to what they had to say, Ari explaining once again what the outline of his plan was. It took him another hour, and it felt like he had been explaining this all day. Which, in reality, he had.

“Let me get this straight.” Weiss said, sitting on the edge of the desk as Isaacs sat in the chair behind hit, both hands behind his head as he was flanked by various other people from his agency, all of them watching Ari who was sat perched on another unit to Weiss’ right “You want Mossad, the Israeli intelligence service, to purchase an abandoned hotel from the Sudanese government.”

“Lease, but yeah.” Ari said, nodding, his hand curling around his chin and mouth in an L-shape.

“Abandoned because?”

“Because the area where it's located is lawless. It's controlled by the Hadandawa.” Ari said, and for the first time he started to feel a little less confident.

“By the who?” Weiss looked at him

“It's a Bedouin tribe.” Ari supplied.

“Translates, The Lion Clan” Tellem, one of the military agents stood around the room supplied “Known for cannibalizing their enemies.”

“No…” Ari quickly began to protest as Isaacs glanced at the military agent who had spoken. “That's...” he took a pause and looked at Ethan who shifted and stared at Ari. And Ari knew why, because he hadn’t told any of this to Ethan. “ No, that's... not anymore.” Ari folded his arms in front of him. “Now it's... human trafficking. -Girls to Jedda, that sort of thing—“

“This... just gets better and better.” Ethan looked at Ari.

“So, your idea, just to reiterate…” Weiss drew the attention back to him “Is to send a group of Jews to a Muslim country, to a place where they might get eaten by Bedouins, to run a fake hotel, in order to rescue a group of black Jews who might or might not survive a 1,000-kilometer walk across the desert, to be smuggled out to sea by Israeli Navy Seals to an Israeli ship.”

“Disguised as a petroleum service vessel, yeah.” Ari said, smiling slightly.  

“That's ridiculous.” Tellem said with a sigh.

There was silence around the room. Ari looked up, and could take no read on anyone’s body language. He locked eyes with Ethan who gave him a sympathetic look and he let out a breath shaking his head.

Back to the drawing board.

“Is NATCOR still operational?” Weiss asked suddenly as Ari stood up.

“Yep” Isaacs replied, his eyes on Ari.

“What's NATCOR?” Ari frowned, hands on his hips.

“It's a shore company in Switzerland we use for large transactions.” Isaacs said simply

“How large?” Ari asked, not sure what this had to do with anything.

“Like leasing a hotel.” Isaacs said.

Well, shit!

With a small smile, one that was more from shock than victory he looked at Ethan who eyed him appraisingly.

“How long do you need?” Weiss asked and looked at Isaacs.

“I can pull the strings in NATCOR in a week or so but I need to know how much we need and when for.” Isaacs said, and once again all attention turned to Ari and Ethan.

“We’ll need a couple of months to pull the team together, get everything organised…leasing agreements that sort of thing…” Ethan said, looking at Ari

“Give me 3 months.” Ari nodded in agreement. “Maximum.”

*****

It turns out that the Sudanese Tourism Board play hard ball. 6 weeks it took. 6 fucking weeks to negotiate a price and a timescale. Originally they’d been willing to lease the Diving Resort from the middle of March until, after agreement of a slightly higher price, they had brought the date forward to January. That was still too far away for Ari’s liking, but as Ethan had reminded him if they missed even one cross on a t or a dot on an I, they were done for.

Finally, at the end of August, they had ironed out every crease they could see, and the confirmation that they had been accepted to hire the abandoned resort came through. A week later, at the start of September, Ari left Tel-Aviv again to start his recruiting spree. First stop, a Pan Am plane with destination Belize.

He was having a coffee and tapping some stray sugar grains on the table surface with his index finger's pad absent-mindedly when his plane was called. His mind went to Maya as he waited in line, boarding pass in hand. He’d spent a lot of time with her over the last week, deliberately, and he knew she understood why he didn’t live with them anymore, but she hadn’t understood why he was going to be going away again. And then, on the last day before he left she had been especially quiet and brooding. Ari had tried to make small conversation with her but had failed and had opted to explain to his daughter why he had to go, as best as he could. She still hadn't reacted as Ari expected and he had to admit defeat. The final blow had come when he had asked Maya about the drawing he was holding of her family, a drawing he was absent from, and she had told her father he wasn't in the picture because he was at work. He hadn’t mentioned it to Sarah, it simply wasn’t worth the hassle.

"You've got to be kidding me" Rachel Reiter said to Ari with a chuckle as she stopped at the end of his row, trolley before her "What are you doing on this flight?" she added impersonating the perfect flight attendant.

"I'd like some tomato juice, please." Ari ordered with a smile.

She served him his tomato juice and sat on the free seat next to him. Ari explained to her he had pulled some strings to find out which flight she would be working. Not that Rachel needed to know. She was perfectly aware of what Ari was capable of and how Mossad worked. Thus, she explained the mission she was on, having scanned the briefcase of a passenger, a PLO accountant.

Ari spent the following five minutes explaining briefly what the mission he was attempting to recruit her for consisted of.

"Ex is in stable asshole condition. Kids are perfect." Rachel told Ari when he asked about her family.

"And you're ok leaving them for an unknown amount of time?" he asked waiting for the confirmation she was in.

"If we don't do something no one will" was what Ari replied Rachel after she asked him to give her a good enough reason to enrol. And that was more than enough, as she smiled and nodded imperceptibly.

"Tell me one last thing." Rachel said standing up and brushing her skirt. "Who's in Belize?"

"Excuse me?" Ari asked with a poker face.

"I know you Ari. I've been running small missions on flights for the past 5 months, they must have told you. And yet you have chosen exactly this one to come talk to me?" she said whispering as she leaned to grab the tray where the now empty glass of tomato juice lay.

"Wait and see Rachel." he said with a broad smile. "I'll be in touch soon."

*******

It was hot, very hot when, a day later Ari sat at a table in a beach bar in Half Moon Caye waiting for Jake to finish his private lesson. Not exactly a diving one.

"What brings the great Ari Levinson all the way to Belize?" Jake Wolf greeted Ari from the door of the decompression tank, wearing nothing more than a dazzling smile.

"I have a unique mission to offer you." Ari told him "But I'm not gonna offer you anything until you cover yourself up" he joked watching as Jake approached him, arms open to give him a hug.

Jake ignored his friend’s request and after brazenly taking a cigarette out of Ari's packet sat on the chair facing him. Ari explained to Jake that he needed someone with expertise and diving skills for a mission related to what in Jake's words was a bloody genocide no one gives a shit about because it's in Africa.

So when Ari told him that his Prime Minister had decided to give a shit, he was convinced he had gained Jake's adventurous spirit and he would be on board.

An hour and some beers later, Ari had explained to Jake the mission in detail and they both had caught up on their lives.

"Be ready to be called in in about a month give or take." Ari told Jake who nodded.

"Why don't you stay a couple of days? Look around you. This is paradise, my friend." Jake said a big grin and open arms pointing at the white sand beach and tropical palm trees.

"I have a flight tomorrow morning." Ari had to refuse his friend’s offer, implying he had still places to be and people to recruit.

"Where to?" Jake asked knowingly.

"Amsterdam." Ari answered before puffing his cigarette. “At least that’s where my next victim was last time I checked…”

Jake just nodded, a faint glimmer of a smile showing, before saying "Then, the night is young. Let's make the most of it before you leave."

******

"You fucked up my lunch, man" Max Rose told Ari after lowering the gun he was pointing at his former mentor.

A mixture of relief and annoyance crossed Max’s face as he waited for Ari to give an explanation as to why was he sat in his arm chair, in the middle of his rented flat in Amsterdam, reading the fucking newspaper with a stupid grin on his stupid face.

"I have a mission for you." Ari said.

"Of course, you have" Max scoffed before hugging him. "But you're buying me lunch if you want me to listen to you."

And that's what they did. Ari knew if you had to win Max over, it had to be around food. After explaining the mission and what Max’s role would be, Ari had one last question and he had deliberately saved it for last when he knew Max would already be on board.

"Max, I need to know you're fine with all this because I need you to be focused. Are you ready to go back down there after Andy?"

"Absolutely." Max said without hesitating. But Ari could see a glint of sadness in his eyes.

"Good." Ari said sympathetically "Then I guess I'll contact you in a month or so." Ari added before he raised his glass to toast for the mission.

***** 4 days later, just over a week after leaving, Ari was back in Tel-Aviv, having saved the discussion he knew was going to be the hardest until last.

He sat in the waiting room of the Ethan Navon Memorial Clinic, a place in which he hadn’t been for easily over 5 years, and was eventually ushered into the Examination Room where the nurse popped a thermometer under his tongue as he sat on the trolley, waiting.

“How can I help you Mr…Aw, fuck me!” Sammy groaned as he looked at Ari who gave him a cheeky smile “What the fuck?  What the fuck are you doing here?” he turned to his nurse “What the fuck is he doing here?”

“Hey, hey, just... Calm down.” Ari said gently, “I need to talk to you. Five minutes.”

Sammy tossed his file and glasses down on to the small equipment trolley and said something to his Nurse. She nodded, making a hasty exit and as Sammy went to close the door it stopped before he could shut it fully and swung fully open again, Hannah stepping into the room, frowning at her brother.

“Sammy? What's going on? I can hear you shouting all the way over in the other room? What’s the…” she trailed off as Sammy nodded towards Ari, her mouth falling open when she saw him “Fuck me…”

"Hey Hannah, how you doing?” Ari gave her a small smile. “You look great by the way."

And he meant it. Her hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck and she was dressed in a simple pencil skirt and blouse, her white doctors coat open.

"What do you want Ari?" she asked softly.

“It's a nice clinic you got.” Ari said, taking the thermometer out of his mouth, ”Save a lot of lives here?

“No. But we don't take any lives either.” Hannah shrugged as Ari took a deep breath, steeping his hands together.

“I know how to get 'em out, Sammy.”

Sam scoffed

“I got a plan.  And it's good.” Ari was almost whispering with excitement as he stood up off the bed.

“Yeah, that's...” Sam looked at his sister, laughing sarcastically “That's what you always say, until everything goes to shit.”

“Right, just hear me out. You don't like what I gotta say, I'm going.”  Hannah and Sammy both exchanged a look as Ari began to pull the documents and details out of his rucksack, standing on the other side of the examination bench.

“Ari…” Hannah began as she stepped forwards, but Sam gently touched her arm and he moved towards Ari, shaking his head.

“Ari, Ari…no…”

“What? You don't wanna hear the plan?”  Ari asked gently.

“Stop.” Sam instructed him.

“You don't wanna hear it? You'd rather be here than in the field?” Ari asked, disbelief in his tone as his voice grew louder.

“Shh!” Hannah instructed the pair of them as Sammy began packing the stuff back into Ari’s backpack for him.

“Why?” Ari pressed “You're the best field doctor I know.”

“I used to be.” Sam said gently “Back when I had two good hands.”  

“Hey, both hands tied behind your back, you're still the best.” Ari said honestly. Sam paused and looked at him for a second, before Ari took a deep breath. “I need you on this one….” he looked over Sammy’s shoulder and locked eyes with Hannah “Both of you.”

She frowned a little, her arms unfolding and dropping to her hips as she studied him.

“I can't do it without you.” Ari finished, diverting his attention back to Sam. Hannah watched her brother who paused for a moment, before he turned and walked past her, opening the door. He glanced back at Ari and said, quite forcefully.

“No.”

Hanna’s gaze dropped to the floor as Ari gave a small sigh “Alright…” and gathered up his belongings “Okay…” She looked up at him as he walked past, and he gave her a pleading look which she met with a passive one of her own as he gave her a sad smile, before he walked out, Sam avoiding his gaze as he did so.

The two siblings stood in silence for a moment before Hannah met Sam’s eyes.

“Oh no…” Sam groaned “Seriously…” “Can it hurt to hear him out?” She asked gently.

“Are you serious? For fucks sake…”Sam groaned. “You are, aren’t you?”

Hannah shrugged. Sam eyed his sister again and then rolled his eyes and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Fine we’ll listen...” Sam said loudly, as he walked into the doorway, leaning out of it as Ari stopped and turned to face him “But only out of curiosity…because I'm still gonna say no.”  

Both siblings ushered Ari to Sam's office, Hannah leading the way. She opened the door to let both men in.

Ari could smell a familiar scent of vanilla when he walked past Hannah into the room and couldn't help but smile softly at her but she was staring at her feet and didn't notice. He tried to make eye contact with her as she helped Sammy to clear the small round table at the right far corner of the office, but to no avail. He could only catch a glimpse of her long eyelashes where the locks that had fallen off her bun allowed him to.

It was only when Sam asked him to do what he had to do that she raised her head from the table and her big blue eyes looked directly at his, stopping there for a couple of seconds.  A couple of seconds which Ari hoped had been enough to convey the message he wanted her to get. One second; I'm sorry. Another one; help me out in this.

A couple of seconds later her gaze went to the back pack that hanged from his left shoulder. Battered, colour faded by uncountable missions and frayed at the seams.

"Ever thought of changing that? It could use a bit of a wash?" Hannah asked, her head nodding towards the back pack as she crossed her arms over her chest.

He looked at it confused and when he returned his eyes to Hannah saw she was smiling.

"It's been with me through thick and thin. Couldn't get rid of it at this point." Ari replied returning the smile and placing the back pack on the table.

"All right, let's get this over with." Sammy urged Ari while he took a lot of documents, photographs and maps out.

Sam wasn't willing to spend any more second on pleasantries. He knew if he gave Ari the chance, he was bound to dive head first into whatever crazy plan he had come up with this time and the quicker he did that, the quicker he could tell him to piss off.

Thus, Ari spread the documents out and for the following 45 minutes he talked Sam and Hannah through his plan for the mission. He had been more thorough with details and careful with sensitive information as he knew Sam would be a harder nut to crack than Rachel, Jake or Max. Especially if he wanted Hannah in.

Both siblings remained silent during the explanation. Sharing a glance from time to time, but Ari was too excited and focused on trying to explain his plan well to read too much into it. When he finished he put his hands on his hips, blew a strand of hair that had fallen over his forehead and grinned with satisfaction, looking at them expectantly

Sammy, who had his arms crossed, moved a hand to his face rubbing his jaw and his eyes flicked a moment from the documents on the table to his sister. Hannah wasn’t looking at her brother, however, her attention was solely on the information Ari had set out.

"Is that a brochure for the hotel?" she asked as she took a brightly coloured and glossy document which was folded in the middle.

"Yup." he said popping the p.

"You've really given this plenty of thought." she said admiring the brochure as well as the rest of maps and planning documents scattered over the table.

"I have." Ari replied, his eyes pleading with her.

"So, just to be clear, you want us all to play house while smuggling refugees in and then out of fucking Sudan." Sam snorted.

"Basically, yes. And you sound like one of Isaacs' dogs." Ari protested.

Sam was about to bite back when Hannah grabbed his arm to cool him down.

"I think it's a brilliant plan." she said looking from Sam to Ari.

"Yeah, now he's the man with a plan." Sam scoffed and turned to look at her sister "And I don't care what you think, you're not going."

"Are you listening to yourself, Sam?" she said visibly annoyed at her brother’s overprotectiveness "You don't get to say what I am or am not doing. You hear me?"

Ari lowered his head and smiled at Hannah's outburst. She had always been an independent and opinionated girl and that had caught his attention right from the start. And she had turned into the determined and strong-willed gorgeous woman that stood there right in front of him, telling her older brother to basically fuck off. Ari couldn’t help but think how different she was from Sarah, who had become so clingy and demanding over the last few years.

"How do you even plan on getting all this up and running?" Sam asked Ari ignoring his sister.

"I said I’d have the details ironed out and a team assembled in 3 months and that was eight and a half weeks ago now, give or take” he said, looking at Sam then to Hannah “ I've got another three or so weeks to come up with covers for everyone and hand them out for memorizing. If everything goes to plan then we should be ready to deploy in January.”

Sam sighed and looked up at his sister who was busy studying the map, her sharp eyes roving over the details. Ari watched her for a second as she bit her lip before he looked back at Sam.

"I need you in this Sammy. I can't do it without you." he pleaded. Sam gave him a look, before he turned away shaking his head, clearly lost in his conflicting thoughts. Ari then switched his attention to Hannah. "And I need you too, Firefly.” At the use of his nickname for her she looked up, her eyes locking onto Ari’s a faint smile playing on her face as he held her gaze” I know I'm in no position to ask you to come with me. Not after what happened to Andy. But I really need a female doctor to take care of those refugee women."

Hannah visibly faltered at the mention of Andy. She hadn’t expected to hear his name, least of all from Ari's lips. He was really bringing the big guns out. But then again, persuasion tactics aside, it was a good plan and he was right about needing a woman to help out. Sammy had told her what had happened to that woman that had let herself drown on his last mission after they had found her bloodied and bruised by a tree after a vicious rape. It was common for women to be abused like that by the local authorities who persecuted them, and if there was something she could do to help, then Hannah already knew deep down that wouldn't be sitting the mission out. Andy wouldn't have done either and she was willing to bet Sam was already considering taking up Ari's offer. That fucking handsome bastard always got what he wanted. She would know.

"Which dumbasses have you got to agree to it so far?" Sammy asked, moving the discussion swiftly on. He had spotted his sister’s reaction to the mention of her late husband. She’d visibly wavered and Sammy had seen her right hand go straight to her necklace, where she wore her engagement ring and wedding band, an action she always undertook when she was nervous or the memory of Andy hit her. And it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Ari either.

"Jake Wolf, who you know from a few missions, Max and Rachel..." Ari offered, turning to Sam.

"Max?" Hannah asked still fiddling with her necklace, but a look of surprise now on her face “Max agreed?”

Ari nodded smiling at her. He knew she would be in when she heard the name of her best friend. That was the reason he hadn't mentioned the names of the rest of the team along with the explanation and ensuing conversation. It was an ace up his sleeve he hadn’t wanted to play until necessary. And Sammy, good old Sammy, had provided him with the opportunity on a silver plate. A simple list of names, strategically ordered, and the match point was his.

Hannah looked at her brother and gave him a smile, inclining her head slightly, an action Ari knew all too well to be her conceding her agreement. He managed to resist the urge to punch the air in victory, but didn’t fight the smirk that slid across his face as he turned to Sam and asked.

"Are you dumbass enough to jump in?"

[quarantined-with-bucky]

Poetry

Thanks for reading!! It means so much to me! Feel free to reach out for anything! The poem is not mine!

Bucky x Reader

Words: ~ 2,200

Summary: You find ancient poetry interesting. Bucky finds you interesting.

Warnings: Maybe angst but not really?

A/N: I found this poem on tumblr years ago so I don’t know the source but if you do please reach out!

...

Studying Ancient Greece and Rome had obviously been around since – well, since they were around, you supposed. The philosophy itself had always been intriguing to you: from Plato and Aristotle to Cicero and Marcus Aurelius. Its fascinating to know that these philosophers had originated some of the most widely accepted yet widely debated topic of mankind – or, at least they wrote them down first. And while Homer, Ovid, and Virgil may not be the easiest publications to read, you couldn’t help but immerse yourself in these works as if only to understand why they’re so popular and important.

You wouldn’t necessarily call yourself a nerd, despite what Sam Wilson might playfully argue, but you did enjoy the occasional novel or documentary; that’s what drew James Barnes to you in the first place. Maybe it was the fact you were an absolute sponge for information. It didn’t even have to be related to the aforementioned history or philosophy; if someone was teaching it, you were definitely going to be there learning it. However, your fascination for ancient culture is what piqued his interest in you.

As previously established, the study of ancient civilization had, in fact, been around since forever. But it was something generally reserved for those who could – for lack of a better word – afford to study it: it was a rich man’s subject; for those who could afford to spend their time studying such subjects that would not earn them much income. But while school wasn’t necessarily a challenge for Bucky, it surely wasn’t that heavily emphasized. Hell, back in the day, only about 50% of kids even graduated high school, let alone attend college. And with the war going on? Forget about it. It was already expected that he’d graduate school and go on to work to earn a living. He couldn’t afford college, nor did he have the time for it. Once he was of age, Bucky was expected to work. Things changed with the war; expectations pointed to the Army.

Leaving all that in the past, Bucky turned to you to help him acclimate to his new life. Upon his return to civilization, he was met with Sam: “witty” (his word, not Bucky’s) and nonstop chatterbox, Steve: more serious than Bucky had remembered from one-hundred years ago, and Tony: don’t get him started. He learned to find that each of the Avengers had their own charming personalities, but they also had their own cliques. Of course, everyone had welcomed Bucky with open arms, but everyone was already a little too friendly with each other to make him feel at home.

Having lost all his charm and charisma long ago, he took solace in your quiet studies. You were new to the Avengers, as well. And while you got on with everyone and considered yourself friends with everyone (even family with some of them), you were a bit too green to be in on all their inside jokes and old-timer stories. As much as Bucky hated seeing you feel out of place, he secretly loved the fact he had someone to bond with about it.

Bucky belly-flopped onto your bed, making your whole body bounce up and down where you were laying on your back on your bed. You set your laptop down beside you and stared at the young man before you. “Whatcha doin,’” he smiles up at you, holding his chin up on his folded knuckles, propped up on his elbows.

“Reading,” you respond, flopping onto your stomach, mimicking his smile and hands. Bucky stared into your eyes for a moment, his smile never faltering. He was barely ever this close to you – close enough that you’re breathing the same air. Your eyes sparkled with the reflection of the candle burning beside you, your cheeks rosy from the warmth in your room and the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. “And what are you up to, Buck?”

He shrugs, pulling his mouth into a tight line. “I’m bored.”

You roll your eyes playfully, wasn’t he bored everyday? “Nobody to hang out with?” You gently prod.

“I want to hang out with you,” he responds firmly. Was he bothering you? Would you rather have him bother someone else instead of you? You wanted him to leave, right? Panic flooded his system as he began to sit up, preparing himself to leave. He knows how much you loved reading and your alone time. The last thing he wanted was to bother you.

Your heart blossomed momentarily. He wanted to hang out with you? All you did was sit in your room and read. He watched a few shows with you, but he always fell asleep. “What do you want to do?” you mumble.

Another shrug. “What are you reading?”

“Poetry.” His eyes squinted at your one-word answer, so you continue. “You know, rhyming words, short sentences – ”

His chuckles cut you off, his eyes shutting in laughter, bright white teeth grinning as he drops his head forward on the mattress. “I know what poetry is, thanks (Y/N).” He picks his head up. “Why are you reading it on there?” His eyes move to the discarded laptop beside you. “You’ve got all these books.”

And he’s right, your room was lined with bookshelves, most works read, although you couldn’t bring yourself to start up on some of the more daunting longer novels. This time, it was your turn to shrug. “Sometimes its nice to read something short and sweet. Y’know, so it’s not dragging on forever.”

He nods, still eyeing your bookshelves. “Any of these any good?” He almost grimaces, noticing the long novels with matching sequels.

You fake gasp. “Bucky, they’re only the most important works in literary history.” You hop up off your spot on the bed, leaving behind your blankets and Bucky. “Here, since your so bored.” You plucked Homer’s The Iliad off your shelf, tossing it on the bed beside him. His eyebrows were drawn together at the book sitting beside him. “They make kids read it in high school nowadays – I’m sure you can handle it.”

With that, you plop yourself back onto your bed, picking up your laptop, and continuing your reading on your laptop. Buck grabs the book from beside him and opens it to the first page, trying not to crease the perfect spine. He almost wonders how you don’t notice him staring at you instead of the book. He admired your intelligence but also your looks. He doesn’t think he could ever  grow tired of looking at you: the way that your eyebrows furrowed in concentration when you read, the soft tug of your bottom lip between your teeth as you anticipated the ending.

Every time you glanced towards Bucky; he brought his eyes back down to the page. He must be having a hard time with that – he’s been on the first page for ages.

It was hard to focus on reading with him next to you – hell, not that you were complaining. His breathing was so calm and perfectly timed. His head was turned down towards the book, but while the rest of his body only moved in synch with his breathing, his hair kept falling from where it was tucked haphazardly behind his ear. He wasn’t frustrated about it (you, on the other hand, would’ve thrown your hair into a bun while threatening yourself to shave all your hair off). His lips were almost always red, and it constantly consumed your thoughts. Did he bite his lips a lot, were they constantly chapped? They don’t look chapped; maybe he just drank a fruit punch, so they were always stained red. You were dying to find out the reason, if only by the feel of your own lips on his.

He could feel your eyes on him; your body ever so slightly shifts and your breathing changes. He bit his lip, still struggling on this first page. His mid was racing elsewhere. He was a trained assassin: he could combine factors of wind, speed, humidity, distance, altitude, and spindrift in goddamn ballistics physics all in his head just to shoot one person. He could speak a million different languages – he actually couldn’t count how many he knows. (He could definitely read the original Divine Comedy in old-school Italian, unlike the translated version that sat across the room on your shelf). Sure, he was highly intelligent, but damn this book was boring.

“I can’t do this one,” he huffed suddenly, shutting the book in front of him. He (over)dramatically rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He then peers up at you with puppy-dog eyes. “It’s hard.”

“It is a tough one, but I thought you could take it,” you respond casually, a smirk forming on your lips. And what Bucky wouldn’t do to have his lips on top of yours at that moment…

With a roll of his eyes, he nudges his way next to you and under the blankets you’ve re-snuggled up in. His cheek was burning into your arm, his metal arm laid loosely over your lap in a half-hug. “How’s the poetry going? Why are you reading it online?”

“It’s good,” you breath shakily. Who knew having him this close to you would actually make your heart leap out of your chest? God and you just knew that he could feel it, too. “It’s just poems people wrote online. Not really published officially, but it’s still really good. ‘S about mythology; the gods and myths and stuff.”

“Can you read me some?” He closed his eyes, nuzzling his nose into your shirt, pulling the blanket farther around him.

You peer down at him, using all your willpower to not stroke that one strand of hair out of his face. You scroll back up to what you were reading, and your mouth suddenly goes dry. You start softly, so softly that you’re not even sure he can hear you.

“Hero,” they’d whisper as the young boy walks by.

“Hero,” they’d cheer and the young boy wonders why.

Why was I picked for this life full of glory?

Why must tragedy be the end of my story?

I want to be a hero but I want happiness too.

And heroes may win the war but they rarely live through.

You know what – fuck it – you bring your hand up to his forehead and ever so slightly brush your fingertips against his skin, pulling the soft brown hair along to the side with you. He’s breathing slowly, but once you touch him his eyes open. Not a single other muscle has moved, he remained completely still.

And it resonates with Bucky – obviously it resonates with Bucky. He didn’t know much about Greek mythology but knew enough to recall the bloody battles and ruthless victories of the myths. “Who is that about?” He asked.

You. “Achilles,” you whispered, hand not moving from cradling the side of his face. His eyebrows were drawn together, crinkles forming around his eyes and bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

He just lays there, replaying the words in his head. Was his life a Greek tragedy? Was he Achilles? His life was already a tragedy. His life was now full of glory – at least that’s what Steve made it sound like. He had a terrible past, sure, but now he was destined to be this great new Avenger. Bucky would scoff if he wasn’t so focused on laying in your arms.

Does anyone think of him as a hero? Can they really forgive him for all his past atrocities? Like Achilles, Bucky finds himself questioning others calling him that. They can call him a hero but at what cost? What did it cost Bucky? His life, his family, friends; his body, his mind; his thoughts, his freedom?

He won the war – he’s free now. Is all of him really dead inside? Is there any human part of him left to be a hero?

The dragging of your knuckles against his cheek pulled him out of his thoughts. But that’s when he realized he is not the tragedy. You were.

The thought of losing you would be his tragedy. Just like Achilles losing Patroclus: the love of his life.

That’s when Bucky grabbed your hand in his – metal that was cool to the touch, in contrast with your warm skin. He whispered your name into your open palm that he pressed against his lips. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, quickly, without thinking – without stopping to think about what a bad idea this probably was – he slid a hand behind your neck and pulled your lips to his. You gasped against his lips and right when he was about to pull away and leave with his tail tucked between his legs, you pressed your lips into his. He simply held you there, one long continuous kiss, time frozen between the two of you.

He parted from you to suck in a deep breath, slowly releasing a sigh from between his lips as he pressed his forehead against yours. “Bucky,” you sighed, eyes still shut, blindly tilting your head forward searching for his lips, searching for another kiss (to which he obviously obliged). With a few more chaste kisses, you laughed against his lips. “Took you long enough.” And to this, he grinned against you, pulling away just far enough for you to see his blue eyes glazed over with joy. And for the record, Bucky Barnes definitely did not have chapped lips.

[avauntus]

Supernatural - a retrospective

This is super self-indulgent, and I have so much else I’ve promised-- I owe a long-fic rec post, and ao3 comments, wip work, and that’s just my fandom stuff I’m behind on. *sigh*

But it’s late on a Saturday and now I’ve finished Supernatural, I want to share what I think are my top few eps, and a few other comments. I promise some of this will be different from the “greatest hits” you probably usually see, and I’ll try to make it worth your time. *wry smile*

Look, we have to have categories like: “Most Likely to Live in My Head Rent-Free for the Rest of my Life” and “Most Likely to Inspire Unnecessary Fanfiction” that are different from “Favorites,” because that’s just the cursed energy this show has. ;-)

My top five

#5 - 13.01 - “Lost and Found”

Written by: Andrew Dabb | Directed by: Phil Sgriccia

In fandom, this is most often referred to as the start of the “Grieving Widower” arc, tongue-in-cheek. Also has Alexander Calvert (Jack) walking around completely in the nude for the first third of the ep. (Neither of these are why this is in my top 5, but he has a good story about wardrobe for his ‘first day.’) 

I didn’t expect much out of this episode the first time I watched it, but I’ve gone over this ‘section’ of the show maybe 3-4 times in my Netflix catch-up, and I watch this one in full every time. From Jack being...not at all what anyone expected and an unsteady vindication, to the stunning cinematography (there’s a post that compares shots to Brokeback Mountain, but I think the shots here might be better), to the sheriff who takes the time to remind her deputy that “...there’s no such thing as ‘weird.’ Everyone’s normal in their own way,” to the slow reveal of exactly how hard the events of the previous night (12x23 - All Along the Watchtower) are hitting Dean and Sam and in different ways...(how long the episode takes to reveal to you how Dean fucked up his hand, and what he was saying when he did. Augh!) The Winchesters are trying to rally, but they have been taking hits for a long time, and the cracks are showing.

 #4 - 15.06 - “Golden Time”

Written by: Meredith Glynn | Directed by: John F. Showalter

Supernatural  has a terrible track record with representation in all stripes. It is infamously consistent in killing off anyone minority, female, or non-White. One of the interesting things about the chaotic meta-narrative of season 15 is you can see the lack of fucks some of the writer’s room had to give about not even being subtle about tearing down that type of ‘White-male-hero-journey” now that they were in a literal “what will they do, fire me?” situation.

I’m a Cas fan, and this episode, which gives him an actual, ‘case-of-the-week’ hunter’s narrative where he gets to save the day on his own, successfully, was wonderful. I love that for him! But more than that, for me, this episode is emotional to me for other reasons-- the way Dean and Cas circle around each other on their angry phone call (with the body language! They are broadcasting so LOUD and neither can see because they’re on the phone!), Sam’s story here, where he’s inheriting things from Rowena that allow him in turn to save Eileen, to Cas’ speech and quick anger at the lake when you reflect on his entire journey of self-realization from a soldier of blind faith to an agent of free will... “You selfish little men in your positions of authority...” I just... *clears throat, grabs tissue* 

#3 -  6.20 - “The Man Who Would Be King”

Written & Directed by: Ben Edlund

Speaking of Cas’ journey... I know some folks don’t like the angst and drama of the ‘Heaven and Hell’ plots of Supernatural, but I am here for it. Oh, did we need another reason to include this episode? This has some of the most metal quotes I have heard from any TV show. Ever.

I mean, look at this:

“If I knew then what I know now, I would have said: Freedom is a length of rope. God wants you to hang yourself with it.”

“Explaining freedom to angels is a bit like explaining poetry to fish.”

The delivery of: “It's not too late. Damn it, Cas! We can fix this!” “Dean, it’s not broken!” is one of those Supernatural bits that will live in my head until the end of time. All of Edlund’s episodes are among my favorites, but this (along with “5.04 - The End”) was on another level. 

#2 - 5.16 - “Dark Side of the Moon”

Written by: Andrew Dabb & Daniel Loflin | Directed by: Jeff Wollnough

I think of this episode every time  I hear Bob Dylan sing “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.” This is kinda a giant montage episode, but the connecting concepts are so...satisfying. 

“Heaven is your favorite memories.” “ It’s called the axis mundi. It’s a path that runs through heaven. Different people see it as different things. For you, it’s two-lane asphalt.” “This is your idea of heaven? Wow, this was one of the worst nights of my life.” “I don’t think I realized how long you’ve been cleaning up Dad’s messes.” “It’s awesome to finally have an application—a practical application—for string theory.” “Everyone leaves you, Dean. You noticed?” “Why is God talking to me? Gardner-to-gardener, and between us, I think he gets lonely.” “You son of a bitch, I believed in... ” Whoosh.

#1 - 4.01 - “Lazarus Rising”

Written by: Eric Kripke | Directed by: Kim Manners

So...this is the episode where Castiel, angel of thee Lord, shows up. And that’s primarily why it earns the no. 1 spot, because 80% of my enjoyment of Supernatural from this point on was Cas-adjacent. Plus this entire episode just hits. ALL OF IT. Dean’s homecoming. Ruby, my darling. Bobby’s entire vibe. Pamela Barnes, easily one of the most interesting women Supernatural ever introduced. Cas being so hot to say “Hi” to Dean he forgets he wounds people. 

But beyond that-- the way the show writes their ‘oh, by the way, angels’ narrative! If you haven’t seen this episode, would you believe me if I told you that THIS EPISODE, the episode where Supernatural said “canonically, Judeo-Christian Heaven is real, btw” involves no churches but does involve a séance, a soulmark handprint brand, and a himbo angel that “gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition”...but they were all “no homo, guys” for years?

Truly no one was out here doing it like Supernatural even back in 2008.

Others--

15.18 - “Despair” 

“Most Likely to Live Rent-Free in My Head for the Rest of my Life”

Written by: Robert Berens | Directed by: Richard Speight, Jr.

You know why this episode is here. It broke reality. I could be wrong-- but I’d put good money on this episode being the subject of academic theses in the future. That doesn’t automatically make for interesting story, but...

Has there ever been a case, in a mainstream US TV show where a major lead character (Cas) came out as queer so late in the game in a narratively-important way? I’m not aware of it, but I might just be behind on my television.

This episode has great writing, and (blessedly) amazing direction and blocking anyway. Check out the above gif - that is some next level foreshadowing going on in the cinematography, and this isn’t even the most remarked upon shot in this episode. (Seriously, I had to search for 40 minutes for this gif, please respect my game, lol.) Everyone who was involved in 15x18 is giddy talking about their investment, from the costume designer to the actors to the director to the writer...

...And then a bunch of them steadfastly have avoided posting much Supernatural-related since. So that’s...loud. There is a bunch of subtext in this episode that is screamingly loud; there is a bunch of text in this episode that makes several things clear fandom has been chattering over for years and years. The meta-commentary around this episode continues, months later. There are over 700 fics on AO3 with this episode tag.

I have more to say about the themes of ‘free will’ and ‘love’ and ‘identity’ tied to this episode, but seriously-- you’ve probably read 17 versions of it on Tumblr already, so.

This is the last time we see Cas, and the last time Supernatural can claim anything close to narrative consistency. For that alone, it’d earn free head-space.

Runners-up: “4.20 - The Rapture”; “5.04 - The End”; “7.21 - Reading is Fundamental”; “8.21 - The Great Escapist”; “9.06 - Heaven Can’t Wait”; “12.19 - The Future”; “14.08 - Byzantium”

6.17 - “My Heart Will Go On”/8.07 - “A Little Slice of Kevin”

“Most Likely to Inspire Unnecessary Fanfiction”

Written by: Eric Charmelo & Nicole Snyder (6.17); Brad Buckner & Eugenie Ross-Leming | Directed by: Phil Sgriccia (6.17); Charlie Carner (8.07)

Usually the show kills off it’s “one-episode” female characters, but do you know one time it didn’t? When the Moirai (the Fates - specifically Atropos, the shearer of the Threads of Fate) showed up in canon in 6.17. She was posited to have “two older sisters that were bigger than her- in every sense of the word,” ...and Castiel had to back down when she challenged him to a cosmic game of chicken over the Winchester’s lives.

Then they never returned to that idea again. 

“A Little Slice of Kevin” is on here for the opposite reason -- an amazing idea that was really underwritten in the episode it showed up in. Dean Winchester has been dragging himself across the fabric of universes; the literal Word of God is in play in a warehouse in Middle America; Cas is back from Purgatory, but what does that mean, micro and macro? As a person on the street, what would it mean, or feel like, to learn you were a Prophet of the Lord, uncalled? That what you are, everything you are, is a cosmic contingency?

Maybe Fate has an opinion on all these shenanigans?

Perhaps all that doesn’t make sense, but it certainly made an impression on ~2012 me. To this day, it remains the WIP I can open up and fool myself with the ‘twist.’ I wish I remembered where I was going with it so I could finish it.

Runners Up: “2.20 - What Is and What Should Never Be”; “5.04 - The End”; “6.15 - The French Mistake”; 12.12 - “Stuck in the Middle (with you)”; “13.05 - Advanced Thanatology” “14.03 - The Scar”; “14.10 - Nihilism”; “15.15 - Gimme Shelter” ... and “15.20 - Carry On” (obviously)

Fifteen seasons. There were plenty of other episodes I loved that didn’t make these limited lists. But overall -- thank you, Supernatural, for the run. Even if I’m upset at the ending, I can appreciate the game. If you watch the show, what were your favorite episodes?

[disneydreamlights]

Training Days

FFN | AO3

Summary: "Oh, and by "us," I mean me and Lea. He's really sorry for all the trouble he caused. I told him it's fine, but he won't stop apologizing. I'll admit that I was a little scared of him at first, but I've gotten to know him better. All he wanted was to help his friend. Honestly, it's hard not to like him."

A peek into Kairi's and Lea's days of learning how to use the Keyblade. Written for Step Forward: A Kairi Fanzine

A/N: I would very much like to thank @kairizine​ for letting me work on this project. You guys are absolutely amazing and I couldn’t say how much I enjoyed being a part of this zine. For all my followers who haven’t had a chance to pick up this lovely zine, a second round of pre-orders is dropping on July 5th, so you guys should check that out for sure! Also tumblr fucked my formatting press f to pay respects.

It had been two weeks since Kairi started training with Axel. Or at least, it felt like it had been two weeks. Merlin said that the world they were training in existed outside of time, so it probably wasn’t that long to everybody else. But for her at least, it was valuable time. Time where she could learn how to use her Keyblade properly, and to finally get her chance to fight.

She also had time to interact with the man who had—at one point—kidnapped her. That was something she was still coming to terms with. Axel saved Sora and apologized for what he’d done to her, but it still didn’t make it any easier to be training with him.

“Yo, Kairi.” Speaking of Axel, the redhead showed up once more, looking almost uncomfortable with the idea of having to pull her from her thoughts. If there was some reassurance to all this, at least Axel was just as bad with handling talking to his former victim as she was talking to her kidnapper. “Thought you could use some company. Merlin said you’d just finished learning about how to use Fire, and as the resident fire elemental, I call myself an expert in the subject.” If it weren’t for the fact that his hand was running through his hair, a sign of nerves, Kairi would’ve been sure his discomfort was perceived on her end given the way he didn’t seem bothered.

“I’m fine, Axel, I don’t need teaching from a ‘fire expert’”—she raised fingers, making air quotations at Axel to show she didn’t really buy it—“to learn how to use a Fire spell. Merlin has it all covered.”

“Right.” She noticed the way Axel slightly deflated at her refusal to train with him. When he spoke, his voice sounded more hollow. “Hey, Kairi, just so you know, I really am sorry. About kidnapping you, and all that. I know I’ve said it before but I wanted to say it again.” He left, and Kairi couldn’t help the unpleasant feeling that arose in her heart.

-x-

Another few weeks of training passed, Merlin said it hadn’t even been a day in the real world. Which was fair, it meant Sora and Riku wouldn’t be missing her too long, at least. And it meant another month around Axel, training. She was slowly feeling competent: Merlin had decided that it was time to start training her in using her light as a weapon. It was a sign of progress towards becoming a Keyblade Master.

What was odd was that when she stumbled upon the normally energetic pyromaniac this time, Axel seemed to be a little less upbeat than normal. He’d continued his stream of apologies, expressing how much he regretted what he’d done, but Kairi doubted that’s what had him down. Deciding it was finally time to return his interest in getting to know her, she sat down next to him. “What’s on your mind?”

Axel jumped, having not noticed her approach. “It’s nothing,” he waved her off.

Kairi frowned, looking at Axel skeptically. He raised his hands in defense of her stare. “Okay, so maybe it is something, but it’s not really something you need to worry about. Just that I can’t shake the feeling…” He shook his head, almost as though he couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“Feeling?” Kairi asked. She didn’t really expect him to give him an answer, but she wanted to know. It was obviously something a lot more important than he was letting on. When he didn’t answer after another moment, she smiled. “I didn’t know you had any of those.”

“Ha ha.” Axel gave a sarcastic laugh, but also a small smile at Kairi, grateful for the joke. “Hey, y’know I’m not a Nobody anymore. I can feel, just as much as you can!” It seemed he wasn’t willing to confront what was going on, and she couldn’t blame him for that. It wasn’t like she’d given him any reason to believe she trusted or wanted to help him.

And to be fair, she wasn’t sure that she did trust him. She may not have been mad over it right now, but despite his regret  Axel had still kidnapped her. It seemed like a good idea to not press for now. “Sure you can, just like you couldn’t when you were a Nobody.”

“I couldn’t!”

Kairi laughed at his protest. “You don’t kidnap somebody to see your best friend again if you don’t care about them a little.”

Axel sat there for a moment. “Right, sometimes I forget that even if I couldn’t feel guilt over what I was doing to you, I still felt something.” Maybe it was his way of justifying it: he couldn’t feel. He couldn’t feel bad over what he had done because he couldn’t feel. But he seemed to be feeling the regret of that now. “I know you’re probably tired of hearing it, but I’m sorry, about all of that.”

For the first time, she acknowledged his apology. “I know.”

-x-

Two months of rigorous training. Two months of her only company being Merlin and Axel. Although they still weren’t close friends, things had started getting easier between her and Axel. Kairi found herself talking to him more since she’d found him that day, or at least she was more willing to talk to him. For one, she almost believed his apologies in that he truly did regret his actions.

This time as Axel approached Kairi, he seemed slightly more at ease. “Hey, how’s training been going so far?”

“Hey Axel,” Kairi smiled. She couldn’t believe that she was at least appreciating Axel’s presence for once. “I’m pretty sure soon I’ll be ready to take you down. What about you, think you can take me on?”

“Nah, not like I have years of experience on you. Anyways I wanted to see if you were up for a bit of a break.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out two light blue bars of ice cream. Kairi couldn’t help the way that her eyes lit up as soon as she saw them. “Whenever we finished a mission, Roxas and I would go to the clocktower back in Twilight Town and share these.”

Kairi grabbed the ice cream bar, taking a small bite and wincing as the cold hit her teeth. “I like that tradition.”

“I figured we could resume it, now that we’re training together.” Axel grinned, seemingly relieved that she was willing to enjoy it. “Or at least that’s what Merlin said, starting tomorrow we’ll be training together.”

“I’ll look forward to it. Don’t think I’ll go easy on you either.” Of course, that revelation couldn’t help but make her a little nervous. But Merlin wouldn’t have her fight Axel if he didn’t think she could hold her own against him.

“Wouldn’t dream of anything less.” It seemed Axel was at least willing to go along with it. “Hey, Kairi, I just want you to know-”

“You’re sorry, I know.” Kairi smiled, leaving Axel looking at her in surprise.

“I’ve said it that many times now?”

“I think I got it memorized.”

-x-

After yet another loss to Axel, Kairi and her sparring partner decided to enjoy a treat. There were still quite a few losses in their practice fights, but she did have a couple wins to her name, and that was progress enough for them to be celebrating. He reached into the cooler, handing her an ice cream bar as they sat on the cliffside watching the sunset. Axel told some stories from the Organization to keep her entertained.

“So I mentioned how I got sent on solo missions all the time for the Organization, stuff that needed to be kept...under the radar.” He seemed hesitant to fully explain what that meant, which made Kairi all the more curious about what he was trying to explain. “See, a lot of those had me going to Castle Oblivion—terrible place by the way, more boring to look at than The Castle that Never Was and impossible to navigate, anyways—I was chasing down some chamber for our boss. Not sure what was in it, but what I do know is the Castle did not want us finding it. So this one time I was–”

“Castle Oblivion...” Kairi frowned, causing Axel to pause in his account. Sora had never mentioned the castle in his stories, and Riku had only mentioned it a couple of times in passing, yet the name brought with it a feeling of dread… “That means you know Naminé?”

Axel nodded. “That’s right. I was one of the people who was guarding her while she messed with Sora’s memories.” Before Kairi could say anything more, Axel raised his hand, stopping her. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t one of the ones hurting her! I was actually the one that helped her.”

He...what? Kairi stared at him in confusion. “Right, Sora...probably wouldn’t have been able to tell you. I was the one who let Naminé go.”

Although she couldn’t communicate directly with the blonde to confirm Axel’s story, she felt Naminé faintly in her heart, confirming Axel’s story: “He did. If it weren’t for him, Sora might be lost forever to the Organization’s trap…”

“Really?”

“I think it was because he didn’t want the Organization to win. For my freedom, I owe him, almost as much as I do Sora…”

“Hello, Kairi! You in there?” Axel waved his hand in front of Kairi, pulling her attention away from Naminé’s presence, which had once more gone dormant in her heart.

Kairi smiled. “Just getting a message to pass on. Naminé says thank you.”

Axel looked at her, and his eyebrows slightly raised in surprise. She wasn’t sure if he hadn’t expected Naminé’s thanks, for the two of them to have any form of communication, or for Kairi to pass on the message.“She did? I don’t suppose she left a message for you to accept my apology this time, did she?”

Kairi paused for a moment, as though she were conversing with Naminé once more before smiling. “Nope, nothing on that one.”

Lea laughed at her answer, and it wasn’t long before Kairi found herself laughing too at his reaction.

She was still a long way to forgiving him for what he’d done, but maybe Lea wasn’t so bad.

-x-

It became a tradition to meet up after training to snack on some ice cream and talk about whatever thoughts crossed their minds. Most of the time, conversation flowed between Kairi and Lea easier than she would have ever suspected when their training had first begun, but right now the exchange seemed more one sided than ever. Lea appeared lost in thought, and Kairi’s attempts at getting him to talk about the various details of his life were earning no results.

Normally she would have been content to leave that where it was—Lea wouldn’t have confided in her anyways. But now she could tell there was something bothering him, and she didn’t feel right leaving it alone. “Lea, are you alright?”

“Huh?” He shook his head before giving a laugh, running his hand through his hair as though nervous. “I guess I’m just distracted. I was thinking about an old friend.” She stayed silent, and after a moment Lea continued. “You know Saïx–I’m serious, stop staring at me like I’ve grown a second head or something.”

After another quiet moment, she finally managed to find her voice: “What!?” Lea was friends with Saïx? How could Lea be have been friends with him of all people? Saïx kidnapped her!

...Just like Axel had.

The realization that she’d nearly forgotten that Lea had kidnapped her was sobering, but it did manage to put a damper on some of her surprise at least. “You and Saïx were friends?”

“I know, a big shocker now, but back when we were kids, Isa was my best friend.” Lea seemed quick to play if off. “We used to get into a lot of trouble back in the good old days. Most of it was my idea.” A low chuckle escaped him. It sounded bitter, like Lea still couldn’t believe just how much things changed. “We would sneak into Ansem’s castle so we could get a peak at his experiments, or just to cause some problems.”

“That doesn’t sound like Saïx.” Kairi pointed out. But it made sense. They had both lost their hearts, and the Lea in front of her felt as different from Axel as the Isa he was describing sounded from Saïx.

“Losing your heart changes you.” Lea’s answer was simple, but he had a point. Even if they had hearts, neither he nor Saïx learned that fact until it was already too late.

Kairi nodded. “That’s why you both drifted apart?”

“Part of it.” For once it looked like Lea was getting uncomfortable with the direction they were going in. Isa, it seemed, was a much more touchy subject than Kairi would’ve guessed. “He changed for sure, but there was also the way he treated them. Roxas and–”

“And?”

Lea didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure of who the “and” he was referring to was in the first place.

They ate their ice cream in silence, neither of them sure how to continue for a few minutes before Lea finally spoke. “You know, when I first saw you, you reminded me of somebody. I don’t know who just...somebody important.”

“Naminé, maybe?” It made the most sense, Naminé was her Nobody. Lea knew her. That had to be it. Except he shook his head.

“Nah, not her. I’d know if it was her I was thinking of. I just don’t remember. That’s why I was so quiet that day.” Kairi knew which one he was talking about. The one where they’d had their first real conversation.

The way Lea looked now reminded Kairi a lot of that day. She’d never seen him so muted before, and it was still an uncomfortable look for him now. “Don’t worry, Lea. Once we beat Xehanort, I’ll ask Naminé help you with your memories, and we’ll find whoever they are.” And she would, she didn’t turn her back on her friends so easily.

“Right, thanks.” Lea turned to her, still frowning in thought for a moment.

He grinned shortly after, though Kairi wasn’t sure if it was a realization about who he was forgetting or a joke until moments later when he said, “hey, have you ever thought of dying your hair black.”

“What?”

Lea raised his hands up in defense. “I just can’t shake the image of you with black hair it sounds right.”

“Lea, that’s not funny!”

“Sure it is!” He laughed, and she lightly smacked him for the joke. “Sorry, sorry, alright I’ll let it go...for now.”

“Lea!”

-x-

It didn’t take Kairi long to realize that their time in the training world was coming to a close. Her fighting was as flawless as one could get when kept out of the heat of a real battle, and Lea had stopped trying to throw his Keyblade every ten seconds. To her surprise, he had adjusted to close combat and swordplay remarkably well. Merlin had told Riku would be there with some new equipment in a few days. It all made it feel very real, and very final.

Which was why Lea and Kairi had returned to their cliffside hangout, trading stories and sharing idle conversation. Lea told stories of teaching Roxas about the worlds and his adventures in Radiant Garden, and in return Kairi told stories about her time on the islands. It was the best they could do to keep their mind off the battle that was looming ever closer.

“Sora was so surprised when I told him I couldn’t swim. He tried to teach me but his idea of teaching me meant having me just start flailing my arms in the water,” Kairi laughed as she remembered the story from a couple months after arriving on Destiny Islands. “If it wasn’t for Riku, he might’ve drowned me with how bad his instructions were.”

“You’d think Sora would know how to swim better than that since he lived there. Hard to believe he couldn’t even explain the motions he was making.”

“His heart was in the right place, at least.” Kairi smiled. It was a fond memory of her friends, one she would’ve liked to think on a little longer.

Lea laughed as well, and they fell into an easy silence as Kairi started searching her mind for the next ridiculous story of her adventures with her friends.

“Hey, Kairi.” Lea raised his hand hesitantly, almost as though he were regretting what he was about to say. “I just, ya know, in case everything goes wrong, I just wanted to say sorry again. You know for–”

“I know.” She cut him off before he could ramble further. She’d heard it more than enough times over the course of their time training together. “And I forgive you.”

[mllemouse]

Tw Idk gender confusion???? I am throwing this here to the void bc I've been talking to myself literally all day and really very often for the last few weeks and maybe if I write it it will becomeore cohesive. On mobile, can't put in a jump so just be forewarned of a deluge.

Tw cancer and surgery and imagined gore!!!

Okay so. J tells me they're non-binary, that's very cool to me, but embarrassing after I told them I go by my first initial online bc I'm an easy Google, thinking they were a basic straight boy. (Also, the main reason I even liked them was bc in their profile they are beautiful and a lil feminine and I am just oblivious as fuck!!) I started going by an initial like 8-10 years ago and since have slowly been changing up my name where possible as I come across a new place it's stored.

Tbh I originally consciously chose an initial bc I just didn't want people immediately judging me as a woman. It infiltrated my personal life some, there are people who just call me L, my ex referred to me as L in all his notes, my mum addresses postcards and packages to me as L, and it's given me a lot of delight! The idea that people don't know my gender, or that they know and choose to continue using the initial has always left me just chuffed. I knew a couple other people that came out and switched to an initial as their name everywhere, but like didn't connect it to myself until J asked about it specifically bc they had a hunch I was also nb. (Honestly, my opening profile line is 'be the love child of Tilda Swinton and Frances McDormand you wish to see in the world' and then the whole profile is me in my glasses and nerd clothes... It's uh, not a stretch now that I look at it.)

I quickly did some refreshing on definitions and language, which punted me straight back to middle school when I hit puberty and started feeling so! Deeply! Uncomfortable! In my body. I used to stand in front of my mirror in my undies and stare in horror at what was happening. I had been wearing a bra since grade 5 out of shame in the girl's changing room for gym, that was less of an issue (I literally threw out those bras when I went to college bc they just got ratty, not bc I grew out of them!), but I watched my hips develop and envisioned having them sawed back down so they could be narrow again. I also got my period in middle school and have loathed it ever since. I wished I was a boy but only for the ease of keeping my body; I didn't want to dress different or change my interests. I wasn't raised in away that dictated male or female activities/interests or even clothing -- except I hated that my brother was allowed to go topless in public whereas I could only do so in a backyard -- yet gender noncomformity, while always accepted, was just not that actively encouraged. Educators told us what to expect during puberty but never that we should tell someone if we were so distraught over it.

I didn't really get much in the way of boobs but I used a tensor bandage as a binder through middle and high school (not even knowing what that was, I just wanted to be flat and saw Gwyneth Paltrow do it in Shakespeare in Love!), I remember sneaking it into my bags for college, but I don't have specific memories of using it then. I was kind of happy with them at figure skating bc I ended up being like the only girl who didn't need a bra or padding in her dresses, my mum just sewed a triple layer of fabric in the front for warmth and I was good to go. I was deeply ashamed of my hips and thighs however, and we got in fights over my skirts all the time.

By the end of high school I was fantasizing about plastic surgery and a hysterectomy. At one point I wished cancer upon myself so I would have an excuse for a mastectomy and hysterectomy. My mum actually got cervical cancer and I was, I'm so sad to admit, slightly jealous.

I came to Tumblr and found the fitblr community quickly after quitting skating and dealing with mono, feeling a need to get back into something competitive. I quickly came to loathe not only my own but other women's bodies through the inspirational photos. I loved the men's bodies, and operated with a goal of getting my body fat low enough (like, aimed for a men's recommended percentage, my period could go to hell) while building muscle that I would maybe narrow my hips and shrink my breasts, while having visibly muscular abs and arms.

I'm not sure if it's a net positive thing that I crashed on my shoulder and haven't been able to fully return to the training I wanted to? After the crash I really tried to treat myself better. The body positive movement was telling me to vehemently love all of my body (nevermind it's almost solely geared towards able bodied cis women), and I tried. And I got distracted: moved away, fell in love, discovered I am probably autistic, made some significant life goals. So by the time I was settled here and feeling like I could experiment more, I channeled that entirely through clothing rather than change my body. First dictated by what's comfy (we don't do a synthetic fibre or picky knits on this body), then by how I wanted to present myself to the world: obv, Tilda Swinton in a suit. By this point I have forgotten middle school, high school, and college.

And basically, though I was somewhat consciously changing my name to an initial and intentionally dressing predominantly masculine (but like blazers and trousers and oxfords aren't... Gendered??) as a rejection of toxic patriarchy and capitalism, I ended up not even thinking it could be a gender thing until J did a double take on my name. I have thought about it occasionally over the years and honestly just never thought I was uncomfortable enough to even say I may be non-binary, let alone do anything about it. trans? I can't feel like I hold any ownership over the word. Which now seems... Insane. How did I rationalize wishing violence upon my body and putting it through truly damaging physical duress for nearly two decades in pursuit of obscuring the stuff that made me female. And don't get me wrong, I love a good dress, I tolerate skirts, sometimes I wear heels bc I like to be tall and feel powerful, and I like my face and my long hair, and sometimes I wear makeup because I think I look pretty even though it makes me want to claw my face off. (And have realised that a LOT of the way I have styled myself in the past was purely self objectification for men and not actually what I enjoyed.) I just... ???? Is that not trans enough? I still don't know!!

Anyway to end on a positive, shout-out to my mum who just doesn't give a fuck abt what I do, as she quickly changed her correspondence to me to exclusively my initial, and has always shopped in the men's section with me, and is currently making me a historically accurate 18th century men's outfit so I can really be the boyish chaos I want to see in the world. Tilda and Frances' love child indeed.