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piracytheorist · 11 months ago

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Season Finale, woe is me T_T

Where did time go. It feels like yesterday that the first trailer for the season dropped.

AND THIS EPISODE DARES START WITH YOR HUMMING THE LULLABY

How dare they. Did I ask to be emotionally destroyed like this Yes I did

Bond is so happy to go for a walk with Loid! And Loid isn't exactly reserved with petting his huge dog is he.

I love how heartbroken Bond was over Anya saying she wasn't coming. He even looked back at her as Loid walked him to the exit.

It actually impresses me that Loid is training Bond right out in public, talking to him about where to bite and how much to make sure the target doesn't get too injured. I guess he doesn't expect the SSS to frequent a dog park?

I love the little pat Loid did on his leg to call Bond back. And then of course pet his head :)

Poor Franky's putting up with so much from Twilight, and he doesn't have to. I hope Twilight appreciates that at some point. I'm sure he hasn't developed feelings just for his family.

Sweet cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure

Franky talks about how Bond may have associated training with his trauma from getting experimented on, and it sounds like brand new info to Twilight. I guess, despite how much his spy training has scarred him, Twilight has a hard time connecting "having bad memories about something" with "not wanting to engage with that something". After all, he'd spent who knows how long telling himself that he hated children because they're incomprehensible to him, and not because children crying reminded him of his own desperate times. After all, it's easier to do his job and keep training hard if he refuses to accept how soul-crushing that job is, right?

Damn, I got sad again. Because I imagine post-reveal Loid and Yor asking Anya why she chose them, and she says that she thought they were cool, and Loid has a RealizationTM that no he's actually very messed up and it's very sad that this little girl imagined that this devastating way of life could actually look cool to someone from the outside.

Not to worry, there's more angst I'll pull out of nowhere down the road!

Franky calling Loid out for not knowing how to relax and have fun >>>>

I love how after Franky left, Loid and Bond looked at each other like idiots. Old habits die hard, and an entire cruise of Loid trying to relax and have fun wouldn't be enough to break them, I guess XD

She's like "If I can't get real stars might as well fake some" Poor Yor continuing to clap happily even while Anya's origami star fell from her chest XD it taught her how to properly apply tape I guess, for later...

Pretty much everyone around them is wearing winter clothes, even Loid is wearing a turtleneck and a heavy coat. Why are those children in such light clothes eating ice cream? The boy on the left we even see later is wearing shorts

Guess an ice cream was an easy kind of snack for a kid to feel bad about dropping XD

Sweet Bond! He's imagining Loid praising him and telling him he's glad they adopted him, and all while Bond is wagging his tail 😭😭

This family is just four lonely creatures desperate to be wanted (even if Twilight is very far from accepting that) aren't they ;_;

Ice cream goes RIP and Bond has his (probably) first experience of a self-fulfilling prophecy. Look at him he's so 🥺

Later in the episode, Twilight goes all strict with himself for a laugh. Here though, he actually expresses distress and guilt for Bond ruining the kid's ice cream. He could have gone for a simple "I'll buy you a new one" without showing that much emotion in his expression and voice. In the manga he even has a typical "cold sweat lines" expression.

Or however you call that.

I don't know, maybe it circles back to any "starving war orphan" trauma he may be trying to tell himself he doesn't have...

I'm just saying, he was very expressive here, and he didn't have to. It wasn't a conscious choice.

Bond is really such a good boy. Every time he acts on his visions is to help someone else. From something as trivial as dropping a snack to something as important as saving someone's life, whether they're a kid, an old man, or a puppy, Bond is truly a very empathetic and caring creature.

However, the silly music playing over the vision of the old man getting hit was... a choice XD

Yet another example of the anime putting details to help the narrative: the old man is hunched, making him short enough that the corner of the wall/fence to his side is actually covering him. Which makes the biker not seeing him make sense, since he was behind the fence and appeared at the last second.

I actually felt shivers with the tone Twilight used here. Bond's behaviour is making no sense and is actually a first.

But also, Bond is probably only now realizing that unlike Anya, Loid cannot read his mind and cannot see his good intentions. He knows Anya would jump for joy for what he did, but since two of his efforts to help were met with reprimands, he's hesitant to try again because his trauma rears its ugly head and he fears he'll get kicked out. He probably doesn't understand that Loid doesn't know anything about his special powers, and so he can't let Loid's reprimands pass by him unaffected.

It's a bit similar to how he probably connects bad food with bad intentions, and thus fears that Yor will be mean to him, since she makes such horrible meals.

And so he allows the woman to get bird poop on her, but he jumps to action when he realizes someone's life may be in danger of the fire.

And first, I know we talk about how strong Yor is, but can we for a moment talk about how Loid held back this absolute beast of a dog?

Like, Loid allowed him to carry him around twice, but when he felt things got serious, he actually had no issue holding him back. It was only when Bond looked legitimately scary that he let go.

And that was... a shock. Have we ever seen Twilight like that before? Cause he genuinely looks like he hesitated out of fear... and maybe realizing that no, this time Bond is actually dead serious.

Bond probably didn't know what he would be looking for once he stepped inside the burning building. I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one who thought that that "Daisy" was a child... but maybe Bond is more attuned to scents of other dogs, especially little ones that need help, so he could find the puppy amidst all the burning smells.

Badass Loid saving his doggo!

Loid doesn't hesitate to run in after him, either. Even the idea that Bond could be rescuing someone is enough for him to take that risk. I love how, after two attempts of what Loid thought was Bond attacking innocent people, he still believes Bond would have a good reason to run into a burning building and runs after him to help.

I mean, you also ran into that building to save your - for all you know, disobedient - dog, so maybe it's the pot calling the kettle black XD

How sweet is he, though. He really doesn't believe in reprimanding someone after the fact - Bond running into fire was dangerous, but it helped save an innocent life... and Twilight's priorities are very clearly shown in that reaction!

I love how man saves dog, dog saves man, and then Twilight is like "Wow your nose is incredible" because of course he can't think of another explanation, and Bond's affirmative borf there sounds like "Yeah sure, buddy. It's my "nose" alright."

Even though it's only Bond with him, Twilight uses "Twilight voice" as he assesses the situation, and "Loid voice" when he talks to Bond. Is this him putting on a mask... or feeling a little more comfortable around Bond?

I'M HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO TILL THE END OF THE NIGHT

That was so badass! But then!

Miserable creature

Exactly how much water was in that bucket to make Bond's entire massive fur soaking wet XD

This is both so wholesome and, me being me, so fucking heartbreaking at the same time. Like, the other guy let himself laugh his heart out at how Bond looked, but Twilight barely allowed a single sound out of his mouth that he couldn't control. And again, angst is my wont, so it really ruins me that he's not even letting himself laugh over something ridiculous, because he can't let his emotions show... even if it would be totally understandable for him to laugh at that moment.

I mean, as I said, he showed genuine distress when Bond caused the boy to drop his ice cream, but he stopped himself from laughing even when the other guy next to him was laughing too. As in, he allows negative expressions when it's appropriate, but not positive even when it's appropriate and understandable.

I mean, he has been smiling at his family and looking at Yor like the besotted simp he is... but he doesn't realize just how much of his real feelings pour through his face, exactly because he hasn't realized said feelings. Wet Bond was a much clearer example of something funny, so he knew that laughing would be a loss of control...

Anyway what I'm saying is it's sad. He shouldn't feel he has to repress his own laugh like that.

Kinda sad the anime omitted this still-trying-not-to-laugh expression Loid has as he sees Bond sniff around.

Bond's voice adafhgdsfdgfdgd

Arsonist guy is watching sneakily from a corner while wearing a hat that has "Fire" written on it.

Dude couldn't have been more suspicious if he tried.

Pretty sick how he got even more excited at the idea of someone dying from the fire, when he heard the woman say how Daisy was still trapped inside.

Vigilante Bond! Arsonist guy takes out his knife and tells Bond to not be disrespectful of humans and my dude you're the one setting people's lives at risk and having a blast about it

We haven't seen Twilight in such action in a while, have we! Ngl it was kinda, uhm... 😳😳

LOOK AT HIM! So proud of his doggo 😭😭

He then says how it would be bad if either of them were in the news... and you're reminded that this is fictional but still pretty accurate 60s-70s so Twilight has really avoided getting any picture of him published. But also Bond could indeed be recognized by any of the scientists... and it's actually sweet how Twilight cares for Bond's secret not getting out. He helped Bond with his "revenge" and now he's acting to protect him from getting targeted again.

I love how Bond fears he'll get reprimanded for biting the arsonist's leg and not arm... when in the beginning Twilight very clearly said he can bite either a leg or an arm XD

BUT THEN

He tells Bond how "someone" will be sad if anything happens to him (Bond), (and we get a sweet af montage of Anya and Bond having fun together), how Bond is first and foremost a part of the family, how his working duties should come second and he should look after himself...

Oh it's gonna hit him like a brick wall when he realizes the exact same things apply to him 😭

SHUT UP AND LET THE BESTEST BOI LOVE YOU 😭

He's not gonna tell anyone, promise 🥺

And he ends with a promise to go to the dog park the next day so that Bond can have some long overdue fun. Yeah definitely a very detached, cool-headed spy who only cares about the mission not destabilizing. Sure.

The anime did offer us some extra stuff, though!

I love one (1) gremlin

I actually saw it as a knife, too XD

I love her.

I fully expected to see the paper puppets (or whatever you call those) fall apart like Yor's victims' bodies do XD I was not disappointed XD

Anya is still working on accepting that her mother is not very capable of not sprinkling "murder" on anything in her life XD

Loid isn't wearing his coat when they return...

I am amazed that they've had Bond for, how many months has it been now? And yet neither Loid nor Anya had ever seen him wet.

Anyway, Loid appeared back without his coat because his excuse was that someone had sprayed water all over them, so he took it off XD

But where is his coat even XD

Her heroes!

And of course Loid doesn't know Anya knows about the puppy rescue, so he's not that affected by the "Stella" and is instead going like "Yo but could you get going with earning those stars already". He's not used to getting recognition for his hard work and he's not about to start... yet...

The closing montage was so sweet! Especially with the holidays around the corner, it was very fitting to see the children having fun and relaxing, Yuri being very NormalTM, Nightfall and Franky having dreams for the future, and the Forger family having their celebrating dinner!

I love them so much.

And thus, the season has ended, and this anime only will start wondering how her Saturdays will pass from now on :')

I am thinking of doing more crack recaps, finishing my character screen time project, and probably starting on some fics... but for a very specific reason, the completion of those will have to wait until the next season ;)

This was a wonderful season! I may have rewatched every episode almost three times, but I do wanna do a "recap" full rewatch of the season at some point, and share my overall thoughts. I certainly have a lot of time on my hands for that XD

#Spy x Family #sxf reaction #sxf spoilers

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therealslimshakespeare · 6 months ago

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A Wedding & a Willy

Those Who Can - The Postwar Years

Summary: Cpt. Jack Brady’s freshly stateside wedding is understandably hectic, joyful and packs his childhood home to the gills with former Air Force buddies. But amongst the revelry and the guests are a few ghosts.

Cast of characters: so many characters and so many dynamics and so many storylines, this is my magnum opus of Avengers assemble style fic. And they all made it to the wedding because I said so. We’ve got- Bradys and Bucky Egan, Blakely, the Hamilton’s, the Crosbies, Lt. Macon, Lt. Glen Graham, Charles Cruikshank, Douglass, Maureen, Tilly Brady, Eugene Brady…and Rosie Rosenthal on the phone but don’t count him out, he’s devastating

Warnings: 18+ mature and distressing thematic material. beyond innuendo and wedding night jokes there’s nothing very current in this postwar fic that should be bothersome. HOWEVER— many different duos have many different discussions about past traumas, including miscarriage, war, ptsd, sexual abuse both male and female, some rifts between the victims, general angst

“Howard, dance with me.” Ida had a firm hold on the scruff of his uniform, smartly fitted and bedecked with polished buttons, Howard Hamilton cut a fine figure even though she had just drug him off the drainage pipe leading to the upstairs bedroom.

…The bedroom where Ida’s brother and his little wife had recently absconded after a very raucous leave-taking at the foot of the stairs. The wedding party had swamped the landing and it was by fortitude alone that Johnny picked up his bride and made a run through them. Ida had been loudest amongst the well wishing hecklers as the two, pink cheeked darlings rushed upstairs to seal the deal and taste what they’d waited five years for.

But while heckling, teasing and rice-wielding-gauntlets were one thing in his big sister’s book, climbing up the outside drainage pipe to play a practical joke on his pilot while said pilot what was practically engaged in a sacrament, was another thing.

And this Ida informed Hambone of with a fist in his jacket and a stern order to dance. His ideas were always far less amusing even to himself once sober, and she was saving him regret by her actions tonight.

“I’d be honored.” Hamilton swore as he allowed himself to be dragged back into the Brady family’s crowded house by the lady Colonel, casting backward glances at his abashed co-conspirators -Hoer, Tallulah, Murphy and Douglass- as they trailed behind.

Only the most looney among them were still strongly celebrating, it was late and the house had become a red hot furnace of merriment that reflected in the many paned windows of the rural New York dwelling. Couches had been pushed to the perimeter and every surface was littered with cake and wine, confetti strewing the floor and out back on the wooden deck, there were tiki lights hung and the gramophone in full projection and Ida placed Hambone's hand on her waist out there and began a spirited Lindy.

It was almost enough to keep Ida from remembering how thoroughly she’d cried as Johnny disappeared upstairs to begin his new life. She had proven shockingly sentimental today and she tried her hardest to dance it off. When Hambone begged off the fifth song, Ev Blakely took over but he was too kind in his conversation, too astute to her bubbling nostalgia and so she accepted Douglass’ butting in, if only to be sharply twirled and kept busy with inane chatter.

Bucky Egan meandered about the outskirts of the frivolity, one conversation after another, the festivities were beginning to blur and the drink in his hand had stayed oddly full. How many was this one? He didn’t know, but that was the wonderful thing about stateside peacetime -there was no shortages of booze. Even at a Catholic wedding. But even booze couldn’t keep the sinking, gnawing feeling of boredom away. Bride and groom were off, most other guests were departing and the few who weren’t he didn’t doubt intended to crash on the couches or on the rugs. The Hamilton’s had been given the the office bedroom and Lieutenant Macon the guest room, for reason of being the bride’s cousin. Eugene Brady was bunked with some Air Force bandmate and Ev Blakely was already asleep on the nearest couch by the time of Ida’s third jive with Douglass.

Bucky should have asked her to dance, but he was drunk and she wasn’t fond of him that way and he was tired, too. Not fit for driving and not seeing much purpose in hauling off when Brady had specifically asked for him to be at breakfast tomorrow.

So, John decided to make himself at home.

It felt right, in a curious, childlike sort of way, to help himself up the stairs while everyone below was too spastic or sleepy to notice him slinking away. He climbed the stairs and passed the framed photographs of Mr and Mrs Brady, of Ida and Johnny and Eugene at graduation and also as cherubic little children. At the top of the landing he looked down at the party, happy havoc proving a testament to a good day. He paused on the landing and hazarded a guess regarding which door would be Ida’s blessedly empty room. Straight in front of him was a large door and with indefensible surety he assumed it belonged to their parent. He tiptoed past and down the darkened hall, staying on the carpeted runner to muffle the floorboard’s squeak. On his left was dark and silent, to his right a door with a chunk of light showing through. From further down the hall, at the very end by the bathroom came sounds of stumbling and furniture being abused and rearranged.

There were also…giggles.

Egan grinned to himself and whispered a fond commendation for Jack Brady before choosing the right door, bravely turning the knob and entering the cool, empty space.

The electric light flipped on at his batting touch and he was met with the sight of organza curtains and a patchwork quilt, a pastel painted desk and plush violet colored carpet. It reeked of feminine adolescence and was so very foreign to Ida as he knew her that his fingers tingled in anticipation of learning this part of her.

Seashells hung from ribbons on the wall, a poster advertising for a boating tour of the Miami Everglades, sheet music in a basket by the bed, her trombone case leaning against a very full bookcase. Classics mainly, a little history and some science, three large volumes on something called “baroque.” Her flight jacket was hung on a knob of the hat stand, a wide brimmed plum stained straw hat, too, and a silk scarf. He crossed the threshold to it and lifted the scarf in his palm, bringing it to his nose and breathing deeply.

It smelled like a man. Cologne, perhaps whisky, musk for sure. Crestfallen, Egan dropped the silk and spun ‘round to take in the rest of the room. Her dress from the rehearsal was lying on the bed, crumpled, worn, probably in need of washing from the heat. He was suddenly very hot himself and he tore off his already unbuttoned jacket and hung it on the peg next to her flight jacket. He wasn’t fit to drive, he insisted to himself, as he tugged off his boots and set them beside her pair of white heeled sandals.

He staggered to the bed and plopped himself face down in the counterpane, crushing the worn dress beneath him. This smelled of Ida, her sweat and her familiarity. She wouldn’t mind, she would understand -Brady wanted him for breakfast and he was too drunk to drive.

——

There was humorous endearment in the task of putting grown men to bed, Ida oversaw to it cheerfully despite sporting a limp from a blister on her heel worse than any she’d gotten on that forced march. It was worth it to clear glasses from an accidental spill onto the carpets in the middle of the night or an elbow into an eye, an offending socked foot into a nose. She had expected a crash of sorts after the festivities and the blankets were piled at the ready in the music room. She got her hands kissed about a dozen times by a dozen men as she draped the covers over where they’d collapsed and wished them a good night. It was closer to three in the morning but the sentiment stood.

Flicking off the last light after the Hamilton’s had made it to the guest room, Ida ascended the stairs, bone tired and genuinely pleased. The sudden stillness in the house was a little jarring, but if she listened closely there were snores below, and upon the upstairs landing she might discern far down the hall the sounds of activities far more indiscreet. Mildly disgusted, she hastened to her room and found the door adjar, lights ablaze, bed occupied.

Bucky.

Feet hanging off the end and his tie still choking him, his red and sweaty face was buried in the fabric of her recently tailored dress suit, navy wool and sensibly cut, she’d still been cat-called while crossing the street in it and she found she didn’t mind that, glad the camp hadn’t taken the charm of her legs, too.

Making a grimace tinged with dogged fondness, Ida closed the door behind her and sat down on the bed, tugging off her offending high heels. Little white sling backs, and there were terrible red welts along her feet from the straps. “Bucky?” she tried in a normal voice, fiddling with the zipper at the nape of her neck, her curls back there sweaty and thick.

He didn’t even twitch. “Bucky.” she insisted with a hand to his shoulder, trying to jar him awake with a shake. The space between his brows creased mournfully and a twitch of his hand balled it into a fist. He mumbled something and from his expression alone she knew he was incorporating her motions into his nightmare. “Hush sweet man.” she sighed, defeated, and bent over him instead, pressing a kiss to his damp temple.

The crease between his brows smoothed. Apparently they’d be bunking together tonight. She envied his ability to sleep at all, weary as she was she didn’t expect it. Not after all the excitement, not now with all the quiet. She let her fingers find the knot of his tie, pushing his face away so she might undo it, popping the top buttons of his collar lest he hang himself in the night.

Ida rose and undid her dress while facing her sleeping friend, having a deep seated conviction that were she to turn her back, some inherent masculine sensor of Egan’s would detect a stripping woman and rouse him to watch, just when she needed him lights out.

Pared down to her slip, Ida left her nightly routine at that, tossing her dress over the chair before repenting of such slovenly, peacetime carelessness and hanging it instead on the hat rack.

His scarf still hung there. Ida glanced back at Egan’s snoring face and, feeling safe, she lifted the silk and buried her face in it, breathing him in. That cemented it, the urge. It was inevitable but perhaps if Bucky had woken she might have proven to herself she could go a solitary night without it. Without him.

Ida isn’t sure when it came to this, curled up on the carpet by the window, phone cord dragging off the side table and entangling with the lamp wires, making sense of her day to him. When had it become a common, daily thing? It is troubling that his hums and murmurs are required for her to process normality, it is comforting to hear him answer, warm, just a hint of tired huskiness:

“Hello?”

“Hello you.” She’ll answer back each time and then he’ll say it: Robert will say her name and it’ll sound so warm and carmelly and relieved like he’s been waiting all day for this, too.

She doesn’t dare hope he has. “How was it?” He asks this time and he’s so jovial that a grin breaks out again over her weary smile lines; she’s been smiling so much today and ought to be pillowed and asleep. But dusty violet though the sky has gotten, she is awake and unsurprised.

“It was perfectly bonkers.” She replies honestly, “And they’re disgustingly happy and everyone else too, cooperative to the last and it couldn’t have been sweeter.” She processes it all as she tells him, and a satisfaction seeps in for today's goodness that wasn’t fully her’s until she relayed it to Robert.

Concerning. But then he’s humming happily on the other end, a buzz of warm static that she feels in her toes, “As it should be.” he sounds as satisfied as she feels, “Not a hitch?“

“Not a one. Except we’re all very hot.”

Another hum, this one pragmatically soothing, “To be expected in August. If they weren’t so loved there’d be less people and you could've held it indoors.” Ida nods to that, unheeding of the motion going unregistered on the other end, “Besides, they won’t need clothes for the job.” Robert’s joke lands so perfectly from the beyond that Ida is snorting before she can even think to chastise.

“They were very eager for that part.” she is afraid she’s giggling but then, he sounds close as well and Johnny had been very fidgety all day and his Tilly even worse. And now, down the hall, someone else, or two someones, sound very awake to keep her company at dawn, busy at being married. She blushes for them and it’s worsened by his voice come again:

“And you? Have fun?” Robert prods, not questioning her sleeplessness, she might ask him the same if they were new to this routine.

They are not.

“Very hard to see him off.” she admits, again, a revelation even to herself and then wants to snort at herself for being dramatic, he is not so far away down the hall making a holy racket of his new liberties, “I’m going to miss it, it being just us and Gene. First chink in the family. I know all the sayings about marriage being an addition to families and such- but I feel like I’ve lost him a little. But he’s very happy. You know how I like Tilly.”

“Yes, said you liked her ‘tremendously.’ Which is good, you’re gonna be related for a while.”

“She’ll be good for him. They’re horridly happy.” she emphasizes and her smile comes through, reaches him all the way in NYC and his own replies;

“Wish I could say the same.” he affects glumness, she knows it is an offered out and she takes it:

“Why? The hot jazz not so hot?”

They have a long-standing insult between them, big city versus upstate, they had been very stubborn about it while away in England. Now making an intimate go of being at home, they are both sleepless and melancholy in their once defended utopias.

“Nah, it’s good, it’s just me. I’m off. It’s just noisy without -“ Robert pauses and Ida is intrigued, he so rarely fumbles near her these days.

“Without?”

“Friends, I guess.” He decides and Ida wonders if she counts. “All my dance partners want to talk about what happened over there, and all their mothers want to talk about my practice. And the truth is, I can’t remember my clients names as it’s boring as hell in comparison, and over there is -I just want to dance. And I keep thinking about whether you’d like the arrangements. I’ve even thought about Johnny there, ya know?”

Dangerous, concerning, her cheeks are blushing for herself now. “You’ll have Croz there soon.”

“We really should get you into the city, Ida.” whenever Robert ignores her segues, whenever he says her name, she finds her throat dry. He is persistent tonight and her eyes have already shed a tear over the happy domesticity of her married-off brother, she's pliable and foolish, and he wants to dance with her in the big apple.

“I danced with Hambone tonight.” she tells him instead, fingers dancing over the cord, a squeaky and nervous motion but her tone grows in humor, “It was the only way to keep him from practical jokes after the happy couple had gone upstairs.”

“God! Wish I’d been there.”

“If it wasn’t him it was Dougie.” she lamented, recalling the rounds around the dance floor and wiggling her poor toes even now in chagrin, “I had hoped the presence of Mrs. Hamilton might have tamed him but I have been disappointed. She’s magnificently rabid.”

“What a relief.” Rosie rebutted, “Gives me a cold sweat to think of that man with a sweet little thing.”

“Good point.”

“How’s your go at it’?” Robert’s voice turns to teasing and she braces, he’s lethal at it and she is laid out on the carpet now, fancy dress cast aside and only in her slip as the room lightens, cold dawn breeze ruffling her curtains and she allows a hand between her breasts, to steady her heart, to imagine it is his. Bucky is snoring away in the bed above her, she fiddles with the dust ruffle.

“At what?” she’s gone raspy, too.

“At being a sweet little thing.”

The hand on her chest clenches and her belly, ever curious and bewildered when hearing him, follows suit. Down the hall there are giggles, something that sounds very like muffled begging, and Ida presses her face towards the window and its cooling breeze, “I’ll be lost when they all leave.” she admits, having felt very much a part of it all despite the frilly dresses and pinned boutonnieres and cloying flower sprays; the boys of the 418th and some from the 100th at large had been in town, packed into the Brady’s house for the wedding. While they were here she was still a Colonel, even if she was a colonel who liked to dance. “They’re pushing me out, you know that, right? It’s settled, just waiting for the discharge.”

There’s a lump in her throat and it’s pitiful to be so sad about it when she’d foreseen it for ages. But it’s more than ungrateful, for the upper brass to force her out after all the time she’s served. It’s worse as she’s given up all other life for it. She had no recourse and yet, not dead or even married, she is cut loose.

“I know.” Robert is angrier over it than she is, had fought harder against it than she could. It allows her room to feel the hurt of it. Concerning, unfortunate. “Come to the city. You might like the law.”

She’d be under him there.

It jars her, being a novice at something. She’d be under him, and at the cost of it she’d been near him and his smile at all times and then he’d find a blonde little secretary and marry her and Ida would be at yet another wedding and she’d be clapping at the foot of the stairs again as the handsome groom carried his bride up to bliss and Ida would have sore feet from dancing with Pappy too long and when the day ended she would have no one to call. Robert would be a married man, abed with his wife, not coming in to work for ten days, she’d have his case files and he’d have someone fit to love him.

“I’ll think about it.” she lies, but it is nice to keep one’s options open when faced with a life of rural placitude and spinsterly church duties.

“What did they decide on for the cake?”

Robert remembers everything, he remembers the debate between carrot and lemon. Even, she supposes, the way she sounds when she lies under oath but instead he asks about cake. He’s good for her, to her -concerning, dangerous.

“Lemon.” She informs him, her tone carrying the weight of that final decision.

“Do -do I hear snoring?” He asks suddenly, incredulous humor in his voice.

“Ah, that would be Major Egan.” She glances back at her bed and his sprawled form in the pale dark, “This place is crawling, bunked two a’piece to the couches downstairs.”

“They’re just stayin’ to haze the newlyweds before they leave for the honeymoon.” Rosie was laughing on the other end, the silliest sound in the world.

“They’ll have a new couple to plague next week.”

“Ah, yes, Major Cleven and Lt. Kendeigh.”

“Yes.” Ida is not sure why Gale Cleven did not manage to come to this wedding, or why beyond being busy with a honeymoon, her brother will not be attending his. There is a discreet intentionality about this remiss behavior that Ida and even Bucky have not dared inquire about, even as the rest of the guests lamented their absence, well meaning and ignorant. Ida supposes that when two men share a secret of a nature they do, an experience and a crime, it is not wise to continue the closeness their captivity once enforced. Perhaps instead of a show of solidarity to appear at each other's nuptials, it would instead be an unkind reminder of how unfit they were for such a peacetime endeavor. Ida wondered, in that case, who she should expect to not show at her own wedding were she to marry, by the logic of Johnny and Gale, that would be her own brother and Bucky and Rosie and Maureen and Smith and-. Ah silly men. They didn’t handle such things well, Ida decided then, only to snort at herself again, as Johnny was the one moving on and marrying and she was the one turning to an icesickle at a crowd of men. Perhaps she wasn’t moving on well at all—

“Where’d you go off to?” Rosie’s voice woke her.

“Mm, just-“ Ida shook herself, “Thinking of getting to heckle Maureen next week.”

“I have a feeling Buck may have accounted for that.” Rosie sounds smug and in the know and Ida does not doubt him, “You are going, aren’t you?“

“Of course.” she defends, “It’s Maureen! It’s Buck!”

“Right, right of course.”

“Aren’t you?” she hates the urgency that question hides.

“Yeah, for sure.” she thinks she tastes him playing at cool, but sure enough he adds an addendum that turns her into a puddle, “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you at it for weeks.”

There’s barely been many “weeks” since they knew a wedding was on at all. But she does not argue.

“I should sleep.” She realizes.

“Yeah.” he agrees, “Well, good night Ida.”

It is light here now. “Good night, Robert.”

Ida climbs into her crowded bed, tugging the comforter from under Egan’s feet as best she can before slotting herself around him, arms over his chest and his back bowed to her belly. He responds like a house cat and curls in, shrinking himself to her big spoon and moaning something childlike and content as his hand reaches to hold hers in a firm lock over his chest.

Today, like most of her mornings, Ida is confirmed in her suspicion that she slept at all only by the fact she catches herself awakening. There is a furnace plied to the front of her that is clammy and broad, groggily Ida registers in disgust that between the heatwave pouring through the opened window and Egan’s natural temperature, she is actually wet from sweat. And yet, in perfect keeping with his nature, Bucky has not moved an inch from her and retains his grip on her forearm like she were some bouy for his dreams. Except, she feels the calloused pads of his fingers swirling up her forearm, up and back down, featherlight little paisleys and circles and mindless shapes that he is tracing, endlessly, as his other hand keeps her tethered to him.

“Bucky,” she accuses because he is awake and they are drenched and she firmly believes that upon waking he should’ve had the good sense to extricate himself for both hygiene’s sake and also their reputations, “you’re awake.”

There is a very thick and gross sounding snort beside her, morning stuffiness and hangover sludge stuck in his throat, “M’not.” he inelegantly protests and his voice is terribly thick and oddly weak.

Ida pulls at her arm but he won’t let it go, she tries to sit up, pry it out, “Ok funny guy, come on, let go, I’m supposed to start breakfast ahead of everyone waking up and-“ she yanks again but he just keeps hold and rolls her hand under himself a little more, effectively burying his face in the pillow as she strains to see his face over his massive shoulder “-and my mother is already convinced we’re secretly engaged.” It’s so preposterous she laughs but either his headache is too bad or something else, as he does not join in, “Bucky I need you up before someone sees.” she tries pleading this time, unsure of what mood she’s caught him in but desperate to get him into the hall before taunts can be made by any guests.

There is another thick gurgle buried into the pillow and a rough snort. The shoulder beneath her hand shudders.

That gives Ida pause. “Bucky,” she stops her attempts to pull away and instead exerts more effort in turning him over, out of the smothering pillow, closer and to face her, “Bucky are you crying?” it’s no accusation, only he would have a sob so ungainly it could be mistaken for hacking up a lugy.

“M’not.” Comes out after moments of silence and repeated prods by Ida. And he is most definitely crying.

Not wishing to jump to conclusions -there are, after all, an absolute endless supply of genuinely good reasons to cry- Ida simply stops her struggling and tries to temper her anxiety about their being caught with whatever tenderness he may need right now. Perhaps he’s crying over Johnny or even Buck’s impending nuptials, perhaps he sees in her what he will be in a week’s time: surplus love. Or maybe he is crying over his dreams. Or maybe his head is spectacularly throbbing. There are so many things, and Ida knows well enough that the man responds best to gentleness, however tenaciously he seeks out rough usage.

She manages to get her arm back, only because he is now so intent on hiding his face. She uses her liberated hand to thumb at his face, smudging tear tracks she was in no doubt were there. “Want to talk about it?” she offers even though he rarely takes her up on the offer, she owes it to him for how often he has made her speak of unspeakable things.

There is a stubborn silence in which she can hear his labored breaths practically repeating that he is not, in fact, weeping into her pillow mid morning on a Saturday in Victor, New York. She pats his arm -suit yourself- and pulls away to begin her day. She lights a cigarette, not having fully quit the filthy habit since camp, and grabs a pair of slacks and a shirt from the closet, needing a shower after his embrace.

“You kept your baby doll.” his voice comes muffled and stuffy from the bed, she glances over and sees he has barely moved, only turned on his side to stare at the threadbare doll propped on her bookcase.

“That’s Minnie.” she introduces them with a grin, “Don’t sound so shocked Major, I’d have thought you’ve been in enough boudoirs to know that plenty of women keep their dolls.”

Bucky keeps staring at Minnie morosely, not laughing at her tease. “Did you keep it for your daughter?” he asks.

Sometimes John Egan reminds Ida of a callously curious child, his sympathy sometimes as wounding as his barbs. She refuses to read into it, he is hungover and he is confused by her childish relic; she keeps pace in her routine and replies with honesty, “I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Well I do.” he mutters instantly, bitterly, accusingly.

“Beg pardon?” she cautions him.

“I think about your baby all the damn time.” he turns around in the sheets then, sits himself up in her bed, eyes raw and dangerous.

The frog from Egan’s throat now takes up residence in Ida’s, she thinks she might choke on her own breath. “Why-“ panicked, her chest begins to shutter, ears ringing, hands cold. Why would he say that? “Bucky!” she'd have taken a stab in the heart over this, why would he- “Why would you say that?” she begs hoarsely, forced to sit beside him on the bed as her legs are no longer steady.

“You really don’t?” he begs in turn, looking as wretched as she feels.

“I-I-“ Ida digs her fingernails into her thigh, willing the cacophony in her head to cease, to get a grip back on the lid of that tiny coffin, “I’m not doing this. Not this morning, not when I’ve got breakfast to make for a household of people and -my brother just got married, Egan! Is this really the time to bring it up? They’re going to make jokes about you being in here! God’s sake -can’t you possess a modicum of sensitivity.”

It’s not a question. It’s an insult and he takes it on the chin. He knows that his own question -asking if she even recalls her dead child- was one of his own. That doesn’t prevent one last building tear to slip the dam and join the mess on his cheeks, because his heart is nothing if not on the opposing team.

It does earn him a sigh from Ida and a very hoarse, “Or course I think of- of course, I do, you bastard.”

“Her.” he pronounces forcefully, he was looking back at the doll, “You should think of her. You know, it was always a girl in my dreams, had so many dreams about her and when we wrapped her up, it was a girl, Ida.”

Ida knew that, Johnny had told her after she’d insisted on knowing. “I know.” she muttered, placing her hand over his on his large thigh, crumpled slacks and red knuckles, “And I know you loved her.”

More than Ida did, goes unsaid. More than Ida could, is perhaps the more honest essence of it all. “I was gonna take such good care of you both.” he swore, looking for all the world like he was right back in camp with Ida’s swelling belly and filling chest beneath her layers making him grow more and more insistent and reckless to save her. “We were gonna get out and I was gonna take care of you. I was gonna manage it, I know you didn’t think i could but we were so close to pulling it off when- I was going to make it happen, Ida, and any future I planned for was always us three.”

She’d have been so loved, that poor lost child, she’d have thought Bucky her father. And in her wildest moments of foolish hope, Ida had imagined them as a trio, too. Camped out in the Polish wilderness, eating fish and berries and teaching her babe how to speak two languages, with never a clue how the war turned out. Ida knew this dream was the intellectual property of Bucky’s own zealously fabricated reality, she knew it and she had long ago left it behind. Maybe when the stalag burned and the grave was lost. Maybe when her brother didn’t offer condolences for a loss they’d both secretly hoped for, even if they prayed for forgiveness right after.

“Someday, you’re going to make someone a wonderful father.” Ida told him now.

“Can’t seem to plan anything else.” he shook his head , “That’s- I know it’s been ages but every dream about after the war had always been us. Mornings like this, you and me and sunshine coming through the windows just like this- and her between us.”

Ida watched his fingers fiddle from underneath her own until he was clasping hers and rubbing a thumb along her knuckles. “It’s a sweet dream, Bucky.” And that’s what it had to stay, a dream, a contingency plan never enacted. “We wouldn’t work now, you know we’d be a mess, we can’t get that back, it-“

“-Don’t worry, I’m not about to propose.” he huffed a laugh, turning fully to her for the first time and giving her a genuinely wide smile, freckles crinkling in his cheeks.

“I didn’t think you were!” she was flustered at the mere concept, despite talks of living ever after together with her daughter from too many fathers. “I’m just saying, now we’re here, we must go forward.”

“Yeah.” he smacked his lips, eyes flitting over her face, before his brows creased again, “What did you name her?”

Ida felt her heart break again, he was like a dog with a bone. She let her spine go lax and fell back into the covers, listless. “I didn’t even -I never let myself.”

Bucky just nodded, understanding. Even back then he understood. More than anyone maybe.

“It’s just as well,” she cleared her throat noisily, “I’d have named her Johnny. And she wouldn’t have stood a chance at being popular with that name.”

He barked out a laugh before his face fell sober. “Really?” he sounded almost scared.

Ida recognized it as that most fragile of things: hope. “Yes.” she swore, realizing she would have.

“For -for your brother.” he clarified, in check, reigned in.

“For the overabundance of John’s that God threw my way when I needed them most”

Egan’s cheeks went pink, his nose again too, and that likely heralded more tears but at least he was smiling, a shy, happy, satisfied smile. Her heart had never felt more broken and raw than it did lying on her childhood bed, naming her babe a year and a half after she’d lost her. Oh she’d have to have a word with Minnie for starting this all, but for now, she lay there and let the exhaustion of acceptance take over.

Carefully he laid down beside, on his side, cheek propped on a palm, looking down at her. “Well,” he drug it out in a huff that sagged him nearer, she lay there and wondered when or if she’d need to raise a hand and push him back, “I’ll tell you what I’d like to do for one day. This day.” he specified. “Will you give me that?”

“What?” she was too wary to promise Egan anything but the alarm in her eyes warred with the mirth on her lips.

“I wanna make breakfast with you,” he stipulated, laying one finger down on her arm, the next followed, “wanna ask Johnny if those tips I gave him worked as well as they shoulda-“

“-Bucky you didn’t?!”

“and I wanna -course I did doll, didn’t want him making a hash of that poor girl, we’re counting on him to break the baby tie- and I want you to promise that you’ll think about, really think- about trying the law.”

Ida snapped upright, turning on him aghast, “You were asleep! How did you-“

Egan just grinned. “I was.” He insisted, “But I don’t see any other scarves in here.”

Ida’s eyes raked over to the hatstand and Rosie’s white dotted momento. “That’s- that's not...” she groaned, “He gave it to me after I buzzed the tower. You remember?”

“I remember.”

“Stop smirking like that, it was my last mission, too. Last one ever, it seems likely now.”

“All the more reason to go to New York.”

“I’m not ready for that.”

“Kicking ass? I’d say you’re havin’ withdrawls, more like, Miss Brady.” Egan cheesed back up at her, tugging her shoulder until she fell back beside him one more time.

There were footsteps in the hall and a general hum of awakening guests. “All of it.” she settled for, because if they were being honest, New York would be far more than just the law. And Egan deserved to know that. “I’m not ready.”

Egan’s firm hand reached up from her shoulder and she felt rough knuckles against her cheek, along with the creeping closeness of him closing in, eyes sharp with purpose as the tickle of a mustache brushed against her face. He’d just clipped the corner of her lips. “I think you are.” he said as he pulled away. “Nothing to do but go on, right?”

Oh he was always so very good. It deserved a repayment somehow but she didn’t know how, so she lay there and patted his back, thinking of Buck’s wedding next week. She’d make him dance with her.

“How many eggs we crackin’ for this madhouse?” he asked, jerking his head at the door.

“Thirty nine.” she grinned back.

“Then let’s get on ‘em.” he rose and extended his hand to haul her up.

“I’ll let you know I’m very rigorous about eggshells.” she warned in a giggle.

“These hands?” he raised those massive appendages of his, wiggling his fingers like he were smashing out a piano concerto, “Made for dainty work.”

“Mm, sure.”

“Well,” he tucked his rumpled shirt back in with offended dignity, “I taught your wiggly fingered brother a thing or two in preparation yesterday morning-“

“-Bucky!” Ida swatted at him with her towel as they ventured into the hall.

“I did!”

“Of course you did.” they were vying for who could reach the shower at the end of the hall first, competitive shoulders bumping into framed photographs on the walls.

“Ten bucks says the little girl is smiling this morning.” he bet, “And that’s me she has to thank.”

“Don’t you dare-“

“I’m gonna ask him.”

“Bucky!”

“I’m gonna!”

“Keep your voice down!” they were right next door to the love birds now, an unavoidable consequence of the bathroom’s proximity to Johnny’s old room.

“I’m gonna.”

In the end, as the challenge to beat her to the bathmat was all he had really wanted, Bucky stepped aside and allowed Ida first dibs on the shower. She was as efficient as their army days and before ten minutes were up the door was opening again and she was coming out in a slightly steamy haze that smelled wonderfully minty. She was wearing slacks, a shirt tied up for she had not filled out again despite her mother’s cooking, and one of those fancy little head scarves that made her dark curls tuck round under her ears in a way Bucky often thought he’d like to arrange his own if he were a girl.

“Don’t let anyone crack my eggs, I’ll be right down.” he threatened as he took his turn.

“Alright, alright.” she rolled her eyes.

He had been home, home to Ma and let his sisters fuss and cook for him, he’d showered in Ma’s house and he’d slept in a bed he had once tossed in as boy -none of it felt quite this domestic somehow. Hot water, eggs to whisk, an olive green tub and the Brady kids’ sensible soaps, such is what peacetime was made of. Maybe it was Eugene’s razor, or one of Johnny’s forgotten ones, lying on the tub side, but Egan snagged it for some maintenance on the neck hairs and five o’clock shadow in the fogged mirror. He should have premeditated his crash here, he should have brought an overnight kit. But there was a spontaneous courage required for crashing on Ida’s bed and he hadn’t wanted to screw it up by being sensible and having a spare change.

Bucky wrapped the towel securly around his hips and flung his crumpled slacks and damp shirt over his arm, determining to seek out an iron before everyone heckled the living fuck out of his old drunken habits coming back to the fore. Couldn’t do that to Ida, he did have some sensibility, despite what she may have thought.

Upon opening the door, however, he was greeted by something far more pressing than hecklers and indeed, at least in his mind, something far more salacious than the drunken crashing into a friend's bedroom or roaming the halls in nothing but a towel: it was the newlyweds, caught betwixt their door and his with their goal no doubt the far off stair landing.

“Well, look who finally woke to the land of the living.” he clapped at the door frame, mouth wide in a guffaw.

Both of the young darlings looked like little cast ashore fishes, mouths open and eyes unblinking. Ah yes, he was a little scant on the clothing but, hell -he’d practically gotten to hear the girl’s cherry get popped, goddamn Catholics and their brazen prudery.

Sweet, freshly minted Tilly Brady belatedly let out a gasping little “oh Major!” at his naked state in a voice that suggested she was somehow to blame for catching him this way, before wheeling round to flee in embarrassment only to smack into her blushing groom’s chest. That proximity seemed to send another shudder through the poor thing which inspired Brady to soothingly lift his own arm and scoot her back under it into their room with a gentle press between the shoulder blades. A goddamn natural, that one, Bucky rocked back on his heels in pride.

“Major?” there was that tone again, asking what the damn score was, somber owl eyes with a flicker of something akin to devine rage in them. Oh, he was pissed.

“Need an iron,” Bucky gesticulated to his slacks, “there an iron in this joint?”

“Allow me,” Brady gritted out, hand outstretched, thoroughly unamused or maybe that scowl was just for show.

“Aww now, hell Johnny-“

“-no, really. Anything so long as it puts you back in clothes, you ape!”

“Now, now, not like you to be sensitive about somethin’ like chest hair, boy.” Egan slung the slacks out of the young groom’s reach, “Marriage makin’ you vain?”

“You’re embarrassing Tilly!” Brady hissed, always angry for someone else’s good cause and that’s why Egan found him to be a dear old thing.

“Well if she’s that skittish, how did she ever survive what you did to her last night?” he barked another laugh.

Johnny went beet red against his pale blue sweater but his mouth wavered into something like a sheepish smile.

“Tell me Johnny,” Egan leaned closer to him in the empty hall, “which one did it for her? This one?” he crooked his fingers in a suggestive gesture, “or this one?” he made a somehow even lewder one.

Brady suddenly began to cough, choked up on his own spit at the sight of the well rehearsed crook of the digits and the minty shower steam still swirling around them. “Knew it.” Egan grinned, slapping Brady on the back, “Good man.” and sauntered back down the hall to Ida’s room feeling a few inches taller. And whistling.

Damn the slacks. He had thirty nine eggs to crack.

Breakfast was a raucous affair, jubilant and perhaps the first time Ida felt that home was truly as it should be despite her late father’s absence. That morning, with a crowd of friends around the table and hanging off the couches and sat on the steps with precariously balanced plates and tumblers full of orange juice, the morning held a jubilant chaos that was absent of the melancholy nostalgia of the ceremonial day before. Bucky was not deft in his egg cracking as promised, but Jean Crosby was a genius at fishing out shell fragments, and he redeemed himself when it came time to whisk the gigantic bowl together.

“There’s no way you’ve got a pan big enough for all that.” Graham took great interest in the breakfast plans, and he held his tongue until it was time to cook up the mess. But his doubt was unfounded, and it did not take into account the sheer amount of potlucks Mrs. Brady had supplied in her time. The skillet Ida hauled out from under the stove was large enough to kill a man with one blow.

“I think you’ll find we do.” she grinned at her erstwhile copilot and he conceded with a wondrous look of awe at the cast iron monstrosity.

No amount of ribbing or cajoling at breakfast could extract from Johnny the intended destination for the honeymoon. Ida was well aware it was somewhere cozy, modest and utterly private in the Adirondack Mountains. She had been presented with two different brochures for two different cabins by her brother, and she didn’t need to ask to know the purpose of it. She had chosen the smaller of the two because it had a river in back, rather like the creek here at home, and Johnny had agreed that was his inclination, too. This morning he met her eye over sausages, not a warning or pleading look as he never doubted her discretion, but a small smug smile that filled Ida with a little ripple of happiness at their shared secret, that she had been his trusted advisor, one last time, in the middle of all these nosy little bastards.

Someone was trying to make a euphemism about how Tilly liked her eggs -scrambled, apparently. There was a great deal of emphasis put on the word scrambled, as if that somehow translated to something else, and Ida was about to shut that line of humor down, for her sister-in-law’s sake, when Jim Douglass and Harry Crosby burst in the front door, having taken their breakfast with Stevie out to the front steps to watch the horses. They informed them all in an unmistakably excited cheer that Buck Cleven and Maureen Kendeigh were coming up the drive.

“Driving seperate cars.” Douglass elaborated amongst the frenzy, “One’s a goddamn Willy.”

“Buck? Candy? -And a Jeep?” a repetitious chorus of surprise and happiness broke out as various men -and their children and wives- sprang from their seats and rushed out front.

It left Bucky and Ida and Tilly, and Johnny, with Mama, alone at the table, exchanging a series of wordless and half misinterpreted glances of communication about why Buck Cleven would show up now after having intentionally kept away from the big day. Of course Mama, like the rest of the men, didn’t know even the first bit about it. Ida wasn’t sure Tilly knew much either, if anything regarding the shared history there, and both she and Bucky were somewhat in the dark themselves, except for a vaguely ominous concern felt about the two men’s relationship. Truly, only Johnny knew what on earth was going on between himself and Cleven since liberation, and as he had been as reticent as usual, no one knew what he thought about the no-show, or if it had even been something agreed-upon amicably.

“A jeep.” the groom himself finally spoke up, a wry grin on his face and nudged Tilly until she giggled and it broke the tense silence. “Well come on, you gotta meet the legends.” he told his new wife and stood up himself, a cue for Ida and Bucky to follow.

Mama fussed around the table. “I’ll be right out, I’m just going to out covers on these-“

Bucky seemed to shake himself and turned to the door abruptly, striding out to see his friends, leaving Ida loitering back as Johnny pulled Tilly's chair out for her. She must’ve been wearing some sort of face because as her brother passed her, he sent her an exasperated look of reproof. Guiltily, Ida cleared her face of all perturbed speculation and followed the new couple out to the drive where Cleven was already in the thick of shaking hands while Maureen was alighting from the prettiest little civilian Jeep you ever did.

“Johnny!” Maureen cried over everyone's heads, vantage point gained from standing on the running boards, “Congratulations, foxy! Don’t you two look pretty in blushes? Well come on, do you like your present?”

She was gesturing in a showman’s arc to the Willy Jeep in question and Tilly glanced up at her new husband in bewilderment, trying to gauge by his expression if this was all some grand practical joke.

Apparently Gale Cleven didn’t joke much because Johnny stared at him in shock which only confirmed the gift as genuine. “Th-that’s your gift?” he did clarify, eyes skittering back to Maureen before taking his turn at shaking the Major’s hand.

“Yup.” Gale grinned back, gentle and mildly smug, “Part of a grand plan by Ida to keep you in the country. This thing could ford that creek you got in back.”

“No kidding.” Brady marveled, “Earnest?”

“Yeah it’s yours,” Cleven took his hand back and rubbed at his neck with it, a nervous gesture, “congratulations Jack.”

“Well fuck I-“ Johnny seemed stunned speechless before recalling the most important thing, “-Sir this is my Tilly.”

“Mrs. Brady, it’s a pleasure.” Gale Cleven took her in little hand in a gesture so chivalrous the only thing missing was a kiss to it, and that was almost done by the swipe of his thumb over her knuckles.

Maureen lovingly shoved her fiance aside to take the girl by the shoulders, an admiring assessment ongoing in her eyes. “Well, you look good for him.” she remarked with a beaming grin of approval before kissing the bride’s cheeks. “So? How was it? I’m never forgiving Gale for making us miss it, goddamn Air Force has some timing for their reports.”

“It was wonderful.” Johnny reported with pink cheeked simplicity that shied from Cleven’s observation, before adding for Maureen’s benefit, “You were missed.”

Something sympathetic and doubtful flashed over Maureen’s face before she leaned in once more to kiss his cheek, much to the amused chatter of those around.

“What’d ya do to get this thing? Rob a bank while you were in California?” Bucky was asking, interested thoroughly in the jeep’s dash and his body was half in the driver’s seat under the excuse of showing baby Stevie Crosby the wheel.

“Or are you already settling in to being a kept man?” Tallulah ribbed Maureen and her much touted pedigree.

“Uncle gave me the mine.” Cleven replied instead, simple and direct. “Deeded it and everything.”

Ida gasped, pleased at the news, exchanging a delighted glance with Kendeigh, “The one back in Wyoming, Gale? The one you worked at?”

“Yeah.”

“Hell, that’s wonderful!” Bucky cried from fully behind the wheel, a progression not unnoticed by Brady, “Coal Baron Cleven.”

“Oh leave off.”

“So we split this puppy, half and half,” Maureen slapped the hood, “anything to make sure you kids don’t forget us.”

“Compensation for knowing ya, more like” Murph grumbled and was smacked for saying his truth.

“You honeymooning with us, Bucky?” Brady asked harmlessly while apparching his gift, leaning over the passenger side and smiling at baby Stevie who was sucking on the knob of the gear shift, his babysitter thoroughly distracted by the dials.

“Huh? Nah just, lettin’ the little guy play.” Bucky assured, “S’all yours. You’re not thinkin’ of takin’ this on the honeymoon, are ya?” he suddenly asked.

“Course I am!” Johnny insisted, turning back to beam at his benefactors, boyish anticipation on his face, “Can’t just let a gift like this idle.”

“There’s not even a roof, John.” Jean Crosby gently pointed out to the excited groom, tactfully trying to remind him his bachelor days were over.

“Yeah, - I know.” he didn’t get it.

“So if it rains-“ Jean tried to supply.

“Then I guess we’ll just get wet.” Tilly Brady responded for him from her place by the headlight, a very wicked grin on her face. “Can we go now?” she begged her groom in a laugh.

“Hop in!” Bucky beckoned magnanimously and she rolled her eyes.

“Well if you’re taking that then you can’t go yet.” Douglass insisted, before explaining,, “We’ve got the cans hitched and have chalked up the windows on your Buick. We gotta move it all over to this one now.”

“Oh yeah, crucial.” Ida snarked while exchanging a look with her oddly complacent brother. By now he’d usually be exasperated with them all; it seemed marriage had a truly calming effect on him.

“You willing to wait?” he asked Tilly instead, smiling gently at his new wife.

“Of course, after all, I’ve just met Maureen!”

“Yes,” Maureen agreed, arm thrown back around the girl, “I have an evaluation to complete.”

“And Stevie wants to feel how it drives!” Bucky added hopefully despite Gale’s disbelieving stare.

Brady shook his head, grin unmoving, “Fifteen minutes for all it, cans, joyride, all of it. Don’t wreck the thing and Candy, be nice to my wife, she has very sharp fingernails.”

He ignored the ensuing chorus of “oooh’s” and the flurry of reiterated breakfast table jests and Ida watched him turn instead to the quiet presence of Major Cleven and ask discreetly, “Sir, I’d like you to meet my mother, if you’ve time. She’s just inside, at the dishes probably.”

Cleven’s face brightened considerably at the invitation, a typical yet rare look of deep seated pleasure softening his face. Ida found herself relaxing her fists for the first time since these two came up the drive: “I’d love that, Jack.”

Ida watched them disappear into the house, Johnny holding open the recently painted front door to usher him into their childhood home, and saying something with a nod to the Jeep as Gale passed him; they both shared a short laugh before the closed door hid them.

“Alright who wants a ride?” Bucky’s loud call jarred her.

“Please go and hold Stevie!” Jean Crosby was begging at her elbow, as worried sick over the attention Major Egan paid her small son as she was gratified by it.

“I’ll keep a grip of steel on him.” Ida assured her and realized as she climbed beside Bucky into the bench seat, this meant she was going for a joy ride with him. She wished she had her flight gear with her, a maywest and a parachute at the least. “Come here little guy.” she scooped Stevie off the floorboard and into her lap, Maureen settled afterward on her other side and it felt just like old times, wedged between her friends..

“That scarf of yours gonna stay on?” Bucky asked her, fiddling with it himself before she could reply, tucking a few more curls in.

“Just -keep us upright. Wheels down, Egan.” Ida begged with a laugh that was drowned in the rev of the engine.

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

MOTA taglist, I only have one so ignore if this is not the universe you signed up for:

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

@storysimp

@javden

@sexualparkour

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@sunny747

@ask-you-what-sir

@xxanaduwrites

@pretty4u

@yorkshirekiwi

@waitedforlove743

@elvismylove04

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@luminouslywriting

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@ka-ski

@darkestbeforethedawn16

@slowsweetlove

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@barbeygirl

@prfctplcsreads

@vaf24

@harrys-housewife

@claireelizabeth85

@pearlparty

@piastrinho

@sapienti0sat

@atrophyingaphrodite

@beingalive1

#those who can #integrated AU #masters of the air #mota #mota fanfic #mota spoilers #masters of the air oc #mota oc #john egan fanfiction #bucky egan fanfiction #john egan fic #gale cleven #Gale Cleven fic #John Brady

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em-omer · 3 months ago

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This is Not a Scam – Let Me Prove It

I completely understand if you’re hesitant to help because of the scams circulating these days, especially involving Gaza. Please know, my story is real, and I’m happy to prove it. If you’d like, I can provide you with a copy of my ID, and you can send any donations directly via Western Union using my name and ID number. If that still isn’t enough, I’m willing to arrange a video call to show you my family’s living conditions and the reality of life here in Gaza. Your trust means everything, and I want to reassure you that your support will truly help my family survive.

---

A Plea for Help: The Masoud Family's Struggle for Survival in Gaza

My name is Saadiya, and my family has faced unimaginable horrors due to the ongoing conflict in Gaza. We lived a simple life in Jabalia, in northern Gaza, before the war turned our world upside down. Our home was bombed, and in an instant, everything we knew was destroyed.

My husband suffered severe injuries to his chest and legs during the bombing. He urgently needs to travel abroad for medical treatment, as his condition is critical. His physical wounds are devastating, but the psychological toll is equally unbearable. He is heartbroken, watching our family struggle to find food and medicine every day, feeling utterly helpless.

Our children—five-year-old twins Omar and Zein, and three-year-old Zeina—have been through unimaginable trauma. When our house was hit, Omar suffered a spinal injury after a pillar collapsed on him. We barely escaped the rubble with our lives and were forced to flee south, not knowing if my husband was alive or where he had been taken due to the severity of his injuries. For nearly a month, my children and I wandered, living on the streets, surviving on one meager meal a day, and sleeping wherever we could find a bit of shelter.

After a month of desperate searching, I finally found my husband at Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital. He was exhausted, still carrying shrapnel in his chest. However, due to the lack of medical equipment in Gaza, no hospital could perform the necessary surgery to save him. We now live together in a tent with three other families at an UNRWA school in Deir al-Balah, clinging to each other as we try to survive.

We are in dire need of help. My husband and son Omar urgently need pain relief medication, and all of us are suffering from skin diseases and rashes due to the lack of basic hygiene supplies like soap and shampoo. Our children are eating unhealthy canned food every day, and we desperately need fresh, nutritious food for them.

I am humbly asking for your help. Even a small donation can make a huge difference in our lives. Your kindness can help us secure the medicines, hygiene supplies, and food that we so desperately need. Please, from the bottom of my heart, I ask you to share our story and help in any way you can. Every contribution, no matter how small, brings us one step closer to relief and gives us hope for a better tomorrow.

Please donate and share our story: https://gofund.me/42ba47b3

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beardeddetectivepaper · 4 months ago

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$4,836/$18,000

Help Hoda and Abdul Rahman Rebuild Their Lives and Fulfill Their Dream of Parenthood

Dear compassionate souls, My name is Hoda, and I am reaching out to you with a heart heavy with sorrow yet brimming with hope. Our journey has been one filled with hardships, dreams shattered, and a love that remains unyielding despite the cruelty of fate. My husband, Abdul Rahman, and I embarked on a journey of love and hope when we married in 2019, eagerly anticipating the joy of parenthood. However, fate had other plans for us. Despite our unwavering efforts and multiple visits to doctors over five long years, we faced the harsh reality of infertility. Driven by a relentless desire to hold our own child in our arms, we scraped every penny together to afford the costly treatment of in vitro fertilization. With the support of our families and the kindness of strangers, we finally gathered the funds necessary for the procedure. On April 15, 2023, a glimmer of hope illuminated our lives as I underwent the embryo transplantation procedure on my birthday. The joy of knowing that life was growing within me was indescribable. We named our precious son Omar, and our hearts overflowed with love and anticipation. However, our joy was short-lived as war engulfed our home, forcing us to flee for the safety of our unborn child. Amidst the chaos and devastation, Omar entered this world prematurely, his tiny body bearing the scars of conflict.

Despite our efforts to shield him from harm, Omar fell ill, his fragile health deteriorating rapidly. We watched helplessly as he struggled for every breath, praying for a miracle that never came. On April 15, 2024, exactly one year after his life began, Omar's journey came to a heartbreaking end.

Now, we find ourselves amidst the ruins of our shattered dreams, mourning the loss of our beloved son and the destruction of our home. With nothing left but the memories of Omar's fleeting presence, we cling to the hope of rebuilding our lives and fulfilling our dream of parenthood once more

*How You Can Help:** Your generous contributions will help us start anew, providing us with the means to relocate from Rafah, undergo the necessary medical treatments, and embark on the journey of parenthood once more. Every donation, no matter how small, brings us one step closer to realizing our dream. 1. **Relocation:** We urgently need funds to evacuate from Rafah, where our lives are marred by the shadows of loss and despair. Your support will provide us with the opportunity to find a safe and stable environment where we can rebuild our lives. 2. **Medical Treatment:** With your help, we can access the medical care and support we need to overcome the trauma of our past and embrace the promise of the future. Your contributions will enable us to undergo the necessary treatments to fulfill our dream of becoming parents once more. 3. **Emotional Support:** Your words of encouragement and solidarity offer us solace in our darkest hours. By sharing our story and offering your support, you become a beacon of hope in our journey towards healing and renewal. **Join Us in Rebuilding Our Lives:** Together, we can turn the ashes of tragedy into the foundation of hope. With your compassion and generosity, we can honor Omar's memory by embracing the gift of life and love once more. Thank you for standing with us in our time of need, and may your kindness be a guiding light in our journey ahead. With heartfelt gratitude, Hoda and Abdul Rahman

Detail how funds will be used.. The total amount is $18,000 .. as all know 3% of take from GFM after that Divided to To exit Gaza through Ya Hala Company Hoda 5000 Her husband, Abdul Rahman 5000 IVF opperation 3000 The remaining part is around 4000 to living and house rent during the pregnancy period

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balkanradfem · 11 months ago

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I feel that any bad-faith argument about abortion needs to be turned into argument about quality and value of all life on earth. Because we are an intelligent species, and are capable of looking ahead and seeing the consequences of out actions.

For instance, we are living in a world with current ongoing wars, where certain people are given the orders to end thousands of lives, without any consequences or retributions. And yet this is not where pro-life is focusing their intent; apparently once babies grow up it's perfectly fine to gruesomely end those same lives in a genocide, or be starved to death during wars, that kind of thing just 'can't be helped'. But women can be pressured and guilted into birthing more babies, so apparently that's the way to go, sure way to increase the amount of suffering in the world.

But, you'll say, not all born babies will be killed off in wars (weird thing to say honestly), what about children who will live their lives safely and happily on this planet?

Well, tell me how?

Any child being born is going to experience the devastating effect of the climate change, they'll watch whole ecosystems collapse, animals going into extinction, and thousands of humans losing their homes and survival resources. They're being born into a misogynistic world, and if the child is female, she'll experience oppression that she won't even be able to prove is real to the male part of the population.

This child will grow up in the world where empathy is scarce, they'll be bombarded with news about human suffering almost every day, they're likely to come down with mental illness or at least feel that the future is bleak and brings more pain. They're also likely to fall victim to pedophiles, predators, and brainwashed boys who learned to sexually assault other kids due to the exposure of p*rn. Is pro-life trying to protect them from any of it? No. They're fighting to stop teaching them about puberty and what sex is, so once these traumatic things happen to them, they're unable to recognize them or speak about it.

But let's look into even more immediate effects of having a child born against their mother's consent. Once a baby is born, they're alive, but we all know that if they're not tended to, they'll die, experiencing nothing but pain. We always assume women will do this labour unprompted, but how can we assume this?

The forced mother, who is already traumatized from having to go trough forced birth, is likely both unwilling and without proper resources to care for a baby. The baby will feel this, they will know they're unloved. They'll know they're unwanted before they even grow up. As a solution to this, you suggest we blame and shame all mothers for not being good enough, for struggling with post-birth trauma or post-partum depression, for being unwilling to be a parent? You can't control what an unwilling mother does with her baby. You forced her to give birth but you can't do anything beyond that point.

Why did you do it? Why did you make sure a baby exists in a world where there is nobody who wants them, is willing to take care of them or give them a good life? What is it worth to you if there's another unwanted, unloved, suffering child out there? Does it make your life better if there's more human suffering? Do you fight for support of new mothers, for better healthcare, for better resources to take care of abandoned babies, for better institutions to take care of unwanted children? No. You feel entitled to women's unlimited labour and endless caretaking of children they don't want. You don't want to acknowledge it's undertaking of a huge scale, that requires endless resources, finances, complete exhaustion, loss of health, sleep, protection, sometimes education and career. It's nothing to you. Loss of quality of life, for everyone involved, means nothing to you.

As long as there is more human suffering. As long as mother didn't get any say over whether she'll become a mother or not, and how many times, and when. As long as her life was put at risk without her consent. As long as she was punished for something you consider she should be punished for.

And now I'm going to circle back to where I started, the war. Because mothers have to watch their children both go to war, risk their lives in war, and be killed in wars. After putting that endless amount of energy and resources to grow and raise a single child, they'll have to watch them go to slaughter. And what happens if a child dies, as a solider in a war? Mother gets payment for it. That's right. For having that child murdered by someone else, the mother will get paid. Murder of that child is not only okay, legal, approved by government and somehow necessary, but is also rewardable to the mother, who, had she refused to birth that same child, causing zero suffering to ensue, would have been punished. Nobody except the mother can get punished.

If the child was killed in a war, and not a soldier, nothing. Apparently loss of life with extreme amount of human suffering, is worth absolutely nothing. But refusing to put that life out there, is a punishable crime. Because it only matters if it's unborn or a newborn. Once that same baby grows up, it's slaughter time. Humans apparently lose value after they grow up, they're only worth as 'endless human potential' in unwilling hands, but after they've reached the age of 'not a baby anymore', worthless.

We have observed the world for long enough to see the consequences of the actions we make. Women are the only ones who can and should decide whether they are willing and able to bring another life into the world, that is worth living, that will provide a life which is livable, enjoyable, worth being alive for. Life is extremely precious and bringing it into the world where it will be subjected to neglect, torture, and possibly a painful death, is unacceptable.

Caring for mother's rights is the first thing that will improve any child's quality of life. Caring about the environment is the second. Ending wars and debilitating male's ability to even start a war, is a fight for life. Not fighting for them to take control of female bodies, which they'll use to make themselves endless supply of soldiers, endless war resources. Taking control from women always means putting it in hands of m*n, who don't find any problem with human suffering, who celebrate wars, find themselves at home doing massive murdering, torturing and raping of women and children.

Women in charge of life means making life compatible with joy, love, care and warmth. We are the only ones who give children have safety, community, care and protection only a willing mother can give. You're wrangling it away from us further away from control the women are. We are fighting for a world where every mother is willing, and every child wanted. Why aren't you?

#pro-abortion #anti natalism #anti natalist #radical feminism #anti war #anti male #anti patriarchy

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knightprincess · 10 months ago

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Scars (Commander Wolffe x Jedi Reader) - Prologue

Words: 1.1k Synopsis: Time doesn't heal all wounds, sometimes, there's too much hurt, too much pain to forget. Sometimes, scars are left behind. Scars that remind us the past is real. Everyone knows Love is the death of Duty. Pronouns Used: She/Her - (Y/N) also used Also On: Wattpad, Quotev, AO3 and Inkitt

The Clone Wars were a cruel, tragic, and devastating event that affected countless lives. Many lost their homes, their loved ones, their faith, and even their lives. Both the Clones and the Jedi fought and sacrificed selflessly in a war that they didn't choose to be a part of. They did everything they could to protect strangers across the galaxy, who would never even bother to learn their names or show any gratitude for their heroic actions. During the war, both the Clones and the Jedi faced many restrictions. The Clones were not allowed to enjoy even the simplest of pleasures and were treated as nothing more than mere products instead of the brave soldiers they truly were. They had fewer rights than even the convicts in the Republic prisons. The Jedi, on the other hand, were bound by their code, prohibiting them from forming any human attachments or loving anyone. They were not allowed to express basic human emotions for fear of falling to the dark side.

Despite that, though, love still somehow flourished. Clones managed to find a semblance of peace away from the battlefield in the arms of another, even if it was only for a few short hours. If they were lucky, it lasted longer. The Jedi found solace in the arms of the troopers they fought side by side with on the never-ending rotation of merciless battlefields and warzones.

Most Clones and Jedi, in some sort of relationship, had a tendency to keep them secret, if only to avoid the scrutiny of their peers and the judgment of those who would so quickly look down upon them for wanting the simple pleasures of life. Most, if not all, of them, hid their devotion out of fear of what would happen if discovered. None of them wanted to imagine the horrors that awaited. Nor the idea of being ripped away from each other for the simple crime of wanting to love someone, of wanting to be loved, of wanting to feel more than being a warrior meant to die on the battlefield. A prisoner without chains.

CC-3636 was one of the most respected Clone Commanders, gifted with a strategic mind and brothers he could count on for anything. Preferring to be called Wolffe, he was looked upon as a role model by many cadets. Close with his Jedi General Plo Koon, but haunted by the traumas of the war, scared even to get close to someone outside those apart of the famed Wolf pack, for fear he would lose them. He feared the Malevolence nightmare repeating with others he let himself care for. Despite that, he cares deeply for his brothers and respects Plo above all others. Many times, Wolffe had been faced with a cruel decision, forced to choose between the lives of his brothers; every time, he'd save as many as he could and never forgot the names of those he lost.

After losing his eye to Ventress, he gained a new coldness, especially to the children of Dathamir. Although he'd admit they were few and far between, it didn't prevent his distrust in them. His distrust tainted even the purest of intentions, making him suspicious of even the gentlest acts of kindness.

One of the most known Jedi Generals was (Y/N) Black, commonly referred to as a Princess General by many clones or simply Princess by several of her fellow Jedi. She was Dathomirian, a Night Sister similar to Asajj Ventress. Strong in the force with a talent for breaking or bending the rules, a friend to everyone, and one of the biggest supporters of Clone Rights. As a General, she was battle-tested, clever, and always had plans and backups in case anything went wrong. If one of her bright ideas was risky, the only life in danger was her own. She trusted her men, respected them, and valued their lives above her own. There was never a time when she'd called a trooper by their identification number. Instead, she called them by their chosen names, friends, or, in some cases, affection nicknames in various languages.

Everything had been selectively normal or as close to normal as the war could get. (Y/N) had returned to Coruscant with her legion 916th Battalion. Their last assignment to the outer rim had been a particularly nasty one, even more so upon the discovery that the republic information had been detrimentally wrong. The locals had been caught in the crossfire, many injured and killed, and in the end, they were forced to retreat, the droid reinforcements being too much for one lone Jedi and batallion to handle.

Although (Y/N) hated admitting defeat with a passion, she did what was best for her troopers; once again, she had put them before the often pointless and corrupt demands of the Jedi Council and Senate. Upon returning to Coruscant, she wished her troopers a fond farewell before leaving for the Temple, mourning the loss of those who hadn't made it and wishing a speedy recovery for those who had been injured. As usual, she gave her normal line of "Stay out of trouble."

As per usual (Y/N)'s arrival at the temple was expected. As soon as she entered the city-sized structure, she was swept to the communications center to be debriefed and hounded with questions that only served to wear down her already thin patients further, as well as question the overall intelligence of the council members interrogating her. Despite her desire to speak her mind, she kept her snide comments and obvious frustrations to herself, at least until she made it back to the safety of her quarters, where she could release her pent-up anger and frustration in privacy. Or that would have been the plan had she not been informed of a request by Master Plo. He asked for her assistance in the mid-rim.

"I will inform my troopers," commented (Y/N), already feeling down about having to spoil the well-earned shore leave break.

"Not your men, Black, just you," quickly corrected Mace Windu, seeing her uncertainty; no doubt she still remembered what happened the last time another took control of her boys. The inexperienced Jedi knight had become lousy with the power and all but played god with the trooper's lives, cost so much all because he refused to listen to the advice of Trip, the clone captain who served as (Y/N)'s second.

"I will leave on the marrow," replied (Y/N) before leaving to return to her quarters, exhaustion seemingly jumping her the moment she passed the threshold, her mind turning lousy too, as if it was already in shutdown mode to prepare her for the horrors that waited for her. Upon completing her normal routine, she soon got comfortable, drifting off slowly, at least before the intruding thoughts began to bug her.

Working with her Master again would bring its own challenges. With Master Plo came Commander Wolffe, the battle-worn trooper with a known hatred of her kind. As (Y/N) tried to drift off, her thoughts turned to the struggles both would face. She was used to being judged with fear by strangers. She was used to being called a witch even when she wasn't one. But being hated because of the actions of another wasn't something she was used to; it was a challenge in and of itself, as would be working with the commander in question. After all, in his mind, she was no different than Ventress; she was the enemy, too.

Series Masterlist

#star wars #reader insert #the clone wars #reader interactive #jedi reader #commander wolffe #star wars fanfiction #commander wolffe x reader #prologue #cross posted to wattpad #cross posted to quotev #cross posted to ao3 #cross posted to inkitt #plo koon #jedi order #clone wars

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checkoutmybookshelf · 27 days ago

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I Beg Your Pardon...WHAT Was That Cliffhanger!?

Sarah J. Maas is seriously going to make me sit through Chaol's Desert Adventure before she resolves the cliffhanger of this book, and quite frankly? That is just RUDE. Let's talk Empire of Storms.

This is your SPOILER WARNING and I'm going to spoil the end in like the first sentence after the cut, so if you're not through this book, this is your last chance to scroll by.

Holy gods Aelin is good at 4D chess and thinking on her feet in a clinch, because despite Maeve putting her in an iron box, she kept the wyrdkeys, Elide, and Terrasen's future safe. (I told you I was going to spoil the end.) Girl figured out that because Elena screwed up, she would have to die to keep the world safe from Erawan and the Valg, so what does she do? She secures her kingdom's future, gives Aedion and Rowan and army with which to win the war, and even gets Lysandra involved to give Terrasen a royal bloodline. Like...I am seriously impressed by what Aelin managed to pull together. And she did it without help or input from her court because she's so tied up in it only ever being her who pays the price.

A price that Maeve is bound and determined to add one hell of a tax to...Faerie Queens are historically somewhat fraught figures, but this Maeve is one hell of a stone-cold bitch. She is also damn good at identifying wounds and applying pressure to them, so pretty much everyone who loves Aelin is absolutely devastated at the end of this book. There is an impending war, a deception to uphold, a rescue to enact, and a Valg king to destroy. And yet I still have to sit through Chaol's book before ANY of that and I am so salty about it. (Yes, I was aware of the tandem read option. I chose not to because that is so much unnecessary effort.)

Empire of Storms was super plot-heavy though; SO MUCH happened in this book. So let's dig into that a bit, and try to take it peice by peice.

Elorcan

Ok, so if I thought Elide was a bit damp in the last book, she got BADASS this book. This poor girl was abandoned, locked away, and finally given a chance to escape at the cost of Kaltain's life.

And I'm just going to take a second here to say that Kaltain got one hell of a raw deal. Girl was a bit of a bitch and out for money, but she absolutely did not deserve to end up at Erawan's mercy like that. Kaltain absolutely deserves justice. It's not just the stabby and stubborn girls who deserve to be treated with respect and care.

But Elide runs into Lorcan early in this book, and the two of them sort of...quietly accidentally fall into a relationship. It's one of those where you kind of have to tilt your head and squint, because its just...I mean if it works for them, then fine, but wow these are two deeply traumatized people and the trauma bond to relationship pipeline is SUPER odd.

We have Lorcan ceding authority right off the bat and letting Elide lead, he uses his magic to brace her bad ankle, she is giving him crap every five minutes, he's tearing up his shirt to make her pads, and ultimately they work to keep each other safe. Right up until Lorcan fucks it all up by summoning Maeve and handing Aelin over. Which Elide is taking SUPER personally because her mother died buying Aelin time to get out when Terrasen fell. And also because Lorcan lied to her. It's really fucked up in the BEST way, because it's clear that Lorcan and Elide are down BAD for each other, but Lorcan still thinks he's in love with Maeve. Who then immediately kicks him yo the curb because she can see what's plainly out in the open in front of her eyes, even if Lorcan can't.

I actually really enjoyed watching Elide and Lorcan figure out crossing paths with Aelin. He's grumpy and traumatized AF, and pretty much against his will and better judgement, he gloms onto this little lost girl. And his confidence and support gives her the courage and feeling of safety to actually grow into her own badassery. It's adorable, which makes his betrayal make me want to headdesk into oblivion. Like...Lorcan. SIR. You put all your plans on hold, walked into danger, and killed multiple people to keep Elide safe and happy. You seriously think Maeve is still the most important woman in your life???

Lorcan desperately needs therapy, but my god it's fun to watch him ruin his life.

Manian (and Also the Witches Generally)

Dorian and Manon are in the running against Aedion and Lysandra for best couple in Throne of Glass, especially since they're both deeply prickly, deeply wounded, and deeply ready to hop into bed with each other instead of dealing with the prickles and wounds.

Dorian is already protective as hell over Manon, despite his all-too-recent losses, trauma, and the fact that he's currently a king in exile. Which actually I think he's handling decently well--his little chat with Rowan about losing a loved one worked beautifully, and he is smart enough to ask for help with his magic. Although if the bigass battles with the Ilken and Maeve's fleet at the end are any indication, he's fine. He's just a fire hydrant of power, similar to Aelin.

Manon is...having a ROUGH TIME this book. Her grandmother keeps trying to murder Asterin, she keeps having this really inconvenient conscience, and it finally comes to a head when her grandmother disowns her after coming within about a quarter inch of disembowling her. It's really lucky that Abraxos is as smart as he is darling, because finding Aelin is pretty much the only reason Manon survives. And Abraxos gets all the wildlflowers he wants for being the goodest boi. He not only saves Manon's life, he also tracks down the thirteen and reunites everyone.

These parts of the book were honestly just delightful to read, and I am a fan of Manon and Dorian.

Aedion's Daddy Issues

Hoo boy, ok. Aedion has every right to have a METRIC TON of trauma, given his life. So to add daddy issues to his childhood, teenage, and adult trauma, his stress about not having an army or allies, and some feels for Lysandra is a LOT. And even Aedion is surprised by the depth of the emotion of his reaction to Gavriel showing back up in his life.

Thing is, though? Even if it's largely background and subtextual, we do get Gavriel and Aedion getting...if not reconciled, then accustomed to each other, and they work well together. I'm actually massively curious to see how their relationship continues to evolve now that Maeve has severed the blood oath to Gavriel and Aelin has been captured and Aedion has found out that she volunteered him to make babies with Lysandra to pass off as the Terrasen heirs and royal family.

Which...I get why she did it. But AELIN. DARLING. Guys have bodily autonomy too, and you can't just VOLUNTEER your cousin and your best friend as stud and brood mare, respectively.

My guess is Gavriel has some experience with serving a powerful, capricious woman who doesn't always tell you the whole plan, so if we don't get that conversation at some point, I will riot.

Lysandra Being the Best Ever

Lysandra is the best secondary character in these books, full stop. Our girl has really come into her own with her shape shifting, as we see in both Skull Bay and the battle with Maeve's fleet. She has to figure out a truly unique magic basically on her own, she is asked to go into battle in shapes she hasn't had a whole hell of a lot of time to practice with, and yet by the end of the book, she is MIXING AND MATCHING TRAITS to create an effective murder form that is capable of taking out fae ships.

And this is WHILE she is backing up Aelin's 4D chess shenangins, periodically messing with Aedion, supporting Aedion emotionally, and getting over her own trauma. Lysandra is the unsung queen of this series, and frankly she deserves 1000% of the credit for everything she does. Especially the popping up over random people's shoulders as a ghost leopard. Because I too would use that ability to scare the ever-loving shit out of people for funsies. We have to find our fun where we can during a war.

NOT TO MENTION that Lysandra is entirely willing to take not one, not two, but SEVERAL for the team. Aelin fully asks Lysandra to 1) impersonate her for the rest of Lysandra's life, 2) be fake married to Rowan and help rule Terrasen, 3) let Aedion impregnate her multiple times with children she will have to pass off as Rowan's to give Terrasen a legitimate bloodline, and 4) deal with Rowan and Aedion's lifelong grief and trauma over losing Aelin. That's a SIGNIFICANT ask, and Lysandra is full-on over here like, "Yeah, I'll do that, and sure, I'll also keep this plan secret from Rowan and Aedion until you're dead or as good as dead." Lysandra does not get enough credit for her role in this book, and this is me giving her all the credit.

Aelin Playing 4D Chess

Aelin gets so much credit for being stupid competent as an assassin. She gets weirdly less credit for her ability to play 4D chess. Because the LITERAL MINUTE she realizes that she's doomed to die to win the war and yeet Erawan back into whatever void he came from, she is calling in every chip and favor she can to get Terrasen an army that has a chance of winning the war. But she's also thinking long-term. She knows that for Terrasen to survive, it needs a royal family and legitimate bloodline, and she wrangles that too by legally marrying Rowan, and roping in Lysandra and Aedion to produce the crotch goblins that will pass as "hers" and Rowan's.

In addition, she is clocking Lorcan's betrayal and planning around it, ensuring that she can keep the wyrdkeys safe, and getting her people out of a REALLY Bad situation. Quite literally, Aelin's competence is just insane and I love that she is allowed to be this competent. It should get talked about more.

Seriously, That Ending

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the last 200 pages of a Sarah J. Maas book will contain approximately 70% of the plot and 85-95% of the emotional angst of the story. That holds EXTREMELY true for Empire of Storms. The entire showdown with Maeve and its aftermath was devastating for everyone, reader included. I full-on got teary when Aelin told Elide that her mother would be proud of her, and wanted to deck Lorcan SO HARD. Gavriel is going to need SO MUCH THERAPY after that nonsense, and I think Aelin and Aedion are going to need to literally just fight it out once she's safely retrieved.

Also, the "Rowan and Aelin were married for like two days" reveal was...a whole thing. Like...it potentially could feel a little contrived, but honestly I'd be lying if I said I wasn't invested and kicking my little feeties in joy over the angst. So as an ending, HELL YES. As a cliffhanger with a WHOLE OTHER BOOK before I get resolution on the Maeve and the iron box thing? JAIL. JAIL FOR SJM FOR 1000 YEARS.

We Just Briefly Need to Talk About Ripping Off Tolkien and Robert Jordan

Siiiiiiiiiiiiigh. Y'know guys... The bare amount of credit I am willing to give here is that clearly SJM has done her reading. You can't rip off the giants of the fantasy genre without READING the giants of the fantasy genre, and she's clearly read Tolkien and Robert Jordan. I just... she didn't even bother RENAMING the dead marshes. It's just...hotter and missing the phantom bodies. It's almost like she mashed up the dead and midgewater marshes but make them tropical.

And then we come to the box. The iron box in which the bad guys keep the super magical chosen one. Which is quite literally what happens to Rand Al'Thor in Lord of Chaos. Which like...I'm low-key over here going "WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY????" Because now I'm just expecting the last book to be Dumai's Wells in Throne of Glass drag.

I realize that homage and allusion are standard in literature. And honestly it's fine. Except that I have been around the block with SJM enough to be DEEPLY SUSPICIOUS of this. So we'll see.

#throne of glass #empire of storms #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn #books and reading #books #books and novels #books & libraries #book recommendations

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dragondream-ing · 10 months ago

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I think the people that screech “ASOIAF isn’t Disney/a fairytale” are up there with Dany antis. First of all, they say it to insult other fans, to signal that those fans are unrealistic. It’s reductive, it’s disingenuous, and it’s not even true—I haven’t seen a single take seriously claiming GRRM is writing a pure sugar-sweet story. I don’t know anyone who even WANTS that.

It’s worse because most of these “critics” think ASOIAF is grimdark or a tragedy or something along those lines. They think bittersweet means bitter. And they don’t seem to realize the original versions of the fairytales they hate so much are far closer to grimdark than ASOIAF will ever be lmao

GRRM isn’t some nihilist, and he’s not into tragedy porn. He never has been. He’s actually quite a romantic, even if his romances don’t end with “and they lived happily ever after without ever experiencing a single problem again.” He loves aspirational characters, and not because he wants them to fail. Actions having consequences in his stories isn’t the same as “it’s not worth trying, everything is terrible and nothing will ever be better.”

Here’s an actual example of bittersweet for the hidden prince trope, and it’s •definitely• not loosely based on a very obvious character in ASOIAF:

The enemy is defeated, but the prince loses his sword arm during the battle. Known for his prowess with a blade, he will have to endure living without such a defining aspect of himself for the rest of his life. He may be relieved he has an excuse not to take up arms again, or perhaps he’ll dedicate himself to learning to fight with his non-dominant arm, but he’ll never be the same as he once was.

The prince is devastated by a greater loss; when he lost his arm during the battle, his closest companion sacrificed themself to protect him. He will have to live without their steadying presence and spend many days finding himself unworthy of such a sacrifice. His loved ones will remind him his closest companion would want him to accept the gift and live happily. He’ll know this is true and will try, but he’ll only succeed on some days and fail on the rest.

The prince goes on to rule the kingdom with his queen, but they’re going to have to rebuild a world shattered by war and deal with the trauma of their experiences for the rest of their lives. Not all is lost, however: they have each other to lean on, being two people that understand each others’ suffering and struggles and love each other more deeply because of it. They also have the hope that their children and the generations to follow will live in a better world thanks to their sacrifices.

The end 🥲

When I think of bittersweet, I think of my grandpa. In his mother country, he grew up too poor to own shoes, then went on to be a shoemaker. He joined the military and was kind of a big deal in his impoverished village, but he left because the government was corrupt and he feared for his family’s safety in the long term. He lived his life in America being derided and underestimated, working menial jobs doing the dirty work many people never think about or value, saving every cent he could, and fighting tooth and nail to ensure his kids and grandkids lived in more security than he ever did. He lived across the world from his beloved siblings, never saw them again, and outlived them all. He retired as a janitor and died in the home he loved with his grandkids and wife beside him.

I’m proud to be his granddaughter. He lived an extremely hard life and struggled more than I can comprehend. And I can’t comprehend it because he made sure I wouldn’t have to. He’s the definition of planting trees under whose shade you’ll never sit. THAT is bittersweet. Bittersweet is poignant and painful and beautiful, joyful and tragic and compelling. It is not on the same thematic plane as House of 1000 Corpses.

I’ll say this in conclusion. If you’re running around insulting people with “ASOIAF isn’t Disney,” let me tell you, even Disney is closer to bittersweet than your nihilistic depressing takes will ever be. If you think Snow White can’t be a bittersweet tale, you’re disingenuous. She suffered tremendously (bitter) but never lost hope and was able to find love (sweet). Extend the ending and make it a bit more “realistic” by including some of Snow White’s and the Prince’s struggles and losses, and it would be a perfect example of a bittersweet tale.

#just venting my thoughts #because it’s not just the Dany antis that are making this fandom venomous #ASOIAF isn’t grimdark #does anyone know what bittersweet is anymore?#some people just love to be miserable and want everyone else and all the characters to be too I swear

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linktotheheart · 11 months ago

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I've been thinking of two of my biggest fandom loves, Legend of Zelda and The Locked Tomb.

I've seen so many takes that paint Hylia as evil, cruel, an oppressor who rejects the personhood of her chosen champion and steals away Zelda's chance at a life like a parasite creeping in to fill the shell of the girl who was always meant to be a vessel.

I've seen plenty of takes exactly counter to that, which insist that Hylia is kind, that Hylia is a person too and doing her best to love and be loved and save the world and the people she cares so much about and preserve their personhood.

I've also seen a few (though to my taste, not enough) takes on Hylia's ambitions, desires, and reasoning simply being alien to that of Hylians due to her goddesshood. On a human scale, she is amoral, because she operates on the scale of wars and worlds.

But one thing I haven't seen is: what if it's multiple of those? What if she loves her champion and princess so deeply she hurts them in the cruelest of ways? What if she is imperfect? What if she is abusive but not evil and a victim but not good? What if she's all of the above, and is simply so powerful that the way her actions translate to the tiny lives of people are tidal waves that are tiny in her wide ocean but devastation to the tiny island chains scattered throughout?

What if her actions are necessary and inexcusable? What if she destroys Link and Zelda every time she is trying to save them, her hands too big for the tiny fragile pieces of their heart? What if she is the most flexible narrative force, meant to represent courage, wisdom, power, and love?

What if The Legend of Zelda is just as much a story about the horrors of love as The Locked Tomb is? What if the horrors and wonders are just two sides of the same coin that is love? What if Hylia is kind and cruel and all the messy human things and an unfathomable deity? What if she is more than one thing? What if she is many things?

I dunno. Maybe it's just my adoration for the many different, often contradictory lenses through which the fandom views her. Maybe it's the way each iteration of LoZ paints her in a different light. In Skyward Sword, practically a main character, driving the narrative and being herself swept up in it. In Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom, nearly absent beyond her fingerprints left on the hearts of Link and Zelda and her faint voice granting her hero back his strength. In still other games, fainter but still present like a slowly beating heart beneath the skin of Hyrule and realms beyond.

I love every interpretation of her. I love takes that pull from classical mythology to make her flawed and as petty and cruel as humans can be. I love takes that pull from the idea of a perfectly good deity that is a paragon of virtue. I love takes that stem from religious trauma that find her more cruel than Demise and more culpable for the destruction of their war.

I love takes in which she destroys Link and Zelda. I love takes in which she saves them. I love takes in which she and Zelda are one and the same, in ways that either maintain their separate personhood or synthesize it into an entirely new being (plurality, hello!). I love takes in which she and her champions control the strings of fate, and ones where they are helplessly entangled and imprisoned by them. I love takes in which she devours and takes in which she is subsumed.

Why should it only ever be one or the other? Why can't it be both? What's mutual exclusivity to an omnipotent goddess? Alternatively, how could she not be many things when she is a deity too helpless to save anyone herself?

Idk. Just, the horrors of love and how they don't erase or negate the wonders of it. How the two build on one another to make each greater. How pain and pleasure are just two kinds of ecstasy, and it's all just stimulation of nerve fibers. How Legend of Zelda is, above all, a mythos being retold throughout the ages in different worlds, and how therefore, it necessitates it's characters being many things.

Y'know?

#legend of zelda #hylia #link #zelda #the locked tomb #loz #tlt

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cowboylikeyouu · 2 months ago

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avengers interstellar AU

since i've seen it in theaters last night i can't stop thinking about writing an avengers/winterhawk interstellar AU and i feel like it's eating me from the inside, so i'm just gonna throw all my ideas at you. spoiler warnings for interstellar and a fanfiction i'll probably never write (having some interstellar knowledge is recommend lol i'm not explaining any of the movie aspects)

it's not gonna be as angsty as actual interstellar bc i can't do main character death for the life of me, i'm gonna ignore a lot of science bc i'm stupid and it's gonna be heavily winterhawk focused bc i'm insufferable, but here we go:

the world is ending and has been for years due to the blight and everything, yap yap yap you know the deal. the avengers basically just were a team of super talented scientists and engineers and test pilots, doing a lot of research for years and also dealing with some international shit or smth idk and it doesn't really matter. the team doesn't exist anymore bc they're not needed anymore, with food becoming the most dominant problem and everything, again, yk the deal. so most of them decide to retire from shield/nasa work and become farmers/etc.

nasa is doing the lazarus missions tho, and who volunteers? 10 people who don't really matter to the story (just like in the movie), steve (bc he's steve goddamn, ofc he's gonna volunteer to go on a suicide mission to possibly save humanity) and nat (bc she's rational, + she knows clint's probably gonna settle down with bucky somewhere (they've been in that "we fuck and spend almost every minute together, and we're so obviously in love but too scared to talk about it" stage for years), so she knows she won't be needed anymore bla bla)

clint's devastated about nat leaving, but she's like "enjoy your time as a farmer and when fury asks you to travel through spacetime to rescue us in a decade, you better be married to bucky's ass, idiot".

bucky's angry with steve for leaving but not surprised, and he's like "don't you dare die out there or i will walk through that goddamn wormhole just to kill you again"

tony's super pissy with steve for leaving, but doesn't show up to say goodbye or anything bc they're not really on speaking terms (they had an affair that was obviously much more than that during the period when tony and pepper had broken up, but then something civil war-like happened, and they're still angry at each other bc of that, and now tony's with pepper again, but there's obviously still a lot of unresolved stuff going on between them ykyk.

regarding steve & bucky: pretty sure i'll make them both the same age as everyone else, so no "frozen/held captive by hydra for 70 year" business, but i still need them to be supersoldiers. so maybe steve still volunteered for the experiment, and maybe he even became some kind of captain america (but an astronaut-version of him???), and bucky still got the not-so-good super-serum thingy and was held captive by hydra, but "only" for a couple of years, before he was rescued and joined the avengers.

again, all of that's not that important, the only relevant thing is that bucky got the serum and that it slows his aging process significantly.

whoo, lots of exposition sorry. that was basically just the prologue.

fast forward, 6-10 years, idk. pepper and tony had morgan, but pepper died of cancer (and i HATE nothing more than killing of a woman for an mlm ship, but seeing as cooper's wife in interstellar died as well, forcing him to leave behind his kids without a mom, i think it's a valid plot point for once). clint took bucky with him to his parent's old farm, they had peaceful couple of years, both recovering from trauma yap yap yap, they're happy alright (and officially together bc this is NOT a winterhawk slowburn).

then they all get a call form fury tho, being like "hey guys, sooo steve's, nat's and [random third character's] worlds look promising, wanna travel through the wormhole and check those planets out lolol???", and they obviously don't want to, but they all knew that day would come, so clint, bucky, tony and someone else (haven't decided who, bc that person's gonna be the one who dies on the water-planet thingy close to gargantua, so that's a hard decision to make) become the endurance team and set off into space.

and here's the thing: tony's on the mission bc he wants to save the life of morgan and especially her potential future kids and OFC bc he has a tiny hope of seeing steve again. clint's on the mission bc with bucky on the ship as well, there's nothing keeping him on earth, + the tiny chance of seeing nat again. bucky's on the mission for all of those reasons, but there's another factor for him, and that's time dilation.

he's a couple of years older than clint, but due to his slow aging, their body's are pretty much at the same stage already if u know what i mean, and while clint's relatively chill about it bc "hey man, you still gonna look sexy as fuck when i'm a bald old man, i'm so lucky", bucky's freaking out over it.

he's well aware of the time dilation caused by gargantua, so his plan is to be the one to stay behind on the ship while the others fly down to the planet on its horizon, and to NOT put himself into hypersleep for all these years, so that when clint and the others come back, he's gonna have a few physical years on clint again. his thought process is kinda like "i'd rather spent 20 years alone on a spaceship with the knowledge that clint is probably alive and i will see him again, than to watch him die of old age and keep living on my own for another 50 years". it's kinda stupid, but that's love for you guys.

so yeah, they travel through the wormhole, clint, tony, and [random fourth character] go down to the planet on gargantua's horizon, clint's convinced bucky's just gonna sleep for 7 years bc that's what sane people do, [random fourth character] dies, tony and clint have to stay down there an hour longer due to the water damage on the ranger, yap yap you know the deal, they go up again and BOOM: they've been gone for 23 years and bucky spent all those years alone and awake and looks 10 years older than before they left. many emotions for both of them "fuck yes clint, you're alive, i fucking missed human contact", and "jesus christ bucky you put yourself through this for me and" and "JESUS CHRIST bucky you put yourself through this FOR ME?????"

anyways, next stop is steve's planet. good news: steve's alive, bad news: the planet isn't a suitable candidate for a new world. the obvious new plan is to go check out nat's world bc it's quite literally their last chance. tony - now that they already "wasted" 25 years on this mission and found steve alive - really just wants to go back to earth tho and see morgan again. he knows that clint and bucky won't agree to that tho, so he kinda manipulates steve into getting on a ranger and flying up to the endurance again, leaving clint and bucky behind on steve's planet. don't be too angry with him, he just wants to see his daughter again, alright :,)

neither steve nor tony are exceptional pilots tho, (that's clint's fucking job), so they don't manage the docking process. bc this isn't a main character death angst fic, they don't die in an explosion like dr. mann did in interstellar, they just cause the endurance to spin rapidly, and then kinda float next to it in their ranger being like "well shit". clint and bucky come in with steve's old lander to save the day, and clint manages to dock onto the spinning spaceship (like cooper does in the movie) and stops it, and then talks tony and steve through the docking process on another point of the ship (the endurance, the rangers, and the landers all work the way i want and need them too btw, idc about accuracy when it comes to this kinda shit lol i just want them all to survive)

when they're all safe on the ship again, they talk it through. the endurance + 1 lander HAVE to go to nat's planet, it's the point of the entire mission, but clint's a self-sacrificing idiot, so obviously he wants tony and steve to have a chance of going back to earth. they load up on lander with enough fuel to take steve and tony back through the wormhole (they're not sure if the lander can withstand it, but it's the only way), from where it should be possibly to contact earth again, so that someone could get them.

clint tells bucky that they have enough resources and enough fuel to get them both to nat's planet safely, which is a lie, but bucky trusts him bc they're in love, man.

clint does the iconic slingshot-around-gargantua-or-whatever manoeuvre to give the endurance the boost it needs to reach nat's planet, and he also does the iconic "yeah, i'm just gonna load up one of the rangers with one of the robots (the robots are FRIDAY and JARVIS btw) and let it fall into black hole to hopefully gather some data, but then i also let myself fall into it without telling you beforehand" move, bc they need to lose the weight and there aren't enough resources for both of them.

he's like "this is paypack for your aging dick move, say hello to nat for me" and then he's gone. ouch.

then there's the whole black hole shit, with the 4th dimension tesseract and the data from the black hole that i don't really give a shit about rn tbh lol. the "solving the gravitation equation" problem won't be a huge part of the plot anyways, bc yes, it's an important factor to this story's universe in general, but i really just wanna focus on bucky and clint in the fic, so idc. it's all kinda happening in the background.

clint sends the data to earth in morse code like cooper does in the movie - tho idk yet if he sends it to a now much older morgan, or peter parker (who's kinda tony's mentally adopted son btw) or directly to tony, who made it back to earth safely. idk. like i said, doesn't really matter. the tesseract collapses, clint's gets picked up by stark station that they were able to build bc of the data he send them, all is well.

his slingshot manoeuvre around gargantua did cause another time dilation ofc (idk if i'd make it 60+ years like in the movie tho), so maybe tony's already dead when clint gets picked up by the station. due to slowed down super soldier aging steve's still alive and well tho, and they have a little chit chat where steve's like "go find bucky, clint, there's nothing keeping you here" and when clint tells him he should join him, steve's like "i'll follow, we all will at some point, but i promised tony to look after morgan" (who's older than steve at this point).

so clint steals a ranger (they're advanced by now, but not 100% cleared to do interstellar travel yet, but this is clint we're talking about and cooper literally did the exact same thing in the movie) and sets off to nat's planet.

it takes him a few years, but he gets there, and bc i'm a soft soft softie, OF COURSE both nat and bucky are still alive, already raising the first generation of the new colony (bc they obviously didn't know if they solved the equation after all). i'm not entirely sure how plan b in interstellar war supposed to work, like who would carry & birth the first generation?? but bc of the fact that they only put one woman on the mission, i'll just go with "they have artificial wombs" :D

and now they'll just chill there until the rest of old humanity joins them.

and idk, the thought of bucky and clint being adam and adam of a new humanity for a few years (bc nat puts herself into hypersleep on a regular basis being like "i cant deal with you two idiots for too long, i'm gonna sleep 'til these babies are grown-ups so that i can actually have some good conversations") just really does it for me lmao.

and they all lived happily ever after.

okay this was a long one, sorry, nobody's gonna read this post anyway lmao. i just needed to get it all out of my head bc i'm still not sure if i actually wanna write it or not. i feel a lot better now tho, maybe my head won't explode bc of this idea tonight.

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