#writing the roots of my roots here

[vtforpedro]

all i really want to do (1/1, 7791 words) Pairing: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield Rating: General Tags: Alternate Universe - Everyone lives/Nobody Dies, POV Thorin, Quest of Erebor, Sassy Bilbo Baggins, Thorin is a Softie, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Falling in Love, Happy Ending, Feel-good Summary: In which Thorin underestimates, overestimates, and makes many mistakes along the journey to Erebor. It’s a good thing Bilbo is always there to save the day. --- I hope you enjoyed it! Reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

[persephryne]

Making Aegon a rapist was straight up bad and lazy writing.

Let me elaborate.

In the show, the first thing we learn about Aegon as an adult is that he is a rapist. We haven’t seen him yet but still we already know that he is an horrible despicable rapist, especially since Dyana is so young, which pretty much makes him a pedophile too. How could anyone root for a man like that ? And that’s where the problem begins.

Rhaenyra had already been established many times as the rightful heir to the throne in season 1. It has been made obvious that she would make a decent Queen too. In the meantime, it had already been shown that Aegon is not even a good person. He’s selfish, inconsiderate, a bully, and does not act like a prince at all. To put it plainly, he sucks big time and we as viewers already know it. Add what we saw in season 2, how reckless he gets, how he’s an alcoholic immature asshole, how he obviously knows nothing about strategics nor how to rule efficiently, or even how bad he is at high valyrian, and you can’t have anyone tell you in good faith that he would’ve been a better ruler than Rhaenyra.

However, had Aegon not been made a rapist, you would still feel for him even though he is not cut out to rule. Because he knows it too and tried to escape it and he was forced to attend his own coronation . Because this crown that he did not want does not fit him, even though he really tries to show that he is not as worthless as everyone seems to think and he just keeps failing. You would feel for him because the war ,that he has started when he was made an usurper by the people around him, has cost him his son’s life. Because the brother, who is partially responsible for his son’s death has now betrayed him and tried to kill him with dragonfire. Because the injuries he suffered make him look more and more like his father who never cared for him, never loved him and that he definitely hates. Which also probably why he tries so hard to make his mother proud of him and love him but he can’t and his main attempt has left him half-dead, half-burn. Not only that but his dragon, with whom he has the strongest bond known in Targaryen’s, history probably died during this futile attempt to prove himself. The only thing about his Targaryen’s heritage that he seems to care about has been destroyed all because he wanted to prove himself. Because he truly resents his Targaryen’s, his father’s heritage, it’s obvious, just as it is obvious that he didn’t want to marry his own sister but was forced to. It’s completely legitimate of him to want to distance himself as much as possible from everything that is Targaryen related. He is indeed more of an Hightower than a Targaryen, but can you really blame him for that ? Would you not try to fit somewhere else too, if you were in his place ? It’s all absolutely and undeniably tragic.

I wholeheartdely believe that, even if you would’ve root for Rheanyra to be Queen, you woud’ve probably still thought that Aegon, as bad as he is, did not deserves this much pain.

But because he is a rapist, well, he honestly does.

By not trusting the audience to see that Aegon is not a good person, nor a good a king, without having him comitting a literal crime, by making Aegon a rapist, the writers have annihilated any possibilities for an internal conflict regarding Aegon and Rhaenyra. The whole concept of « teams » just goes down the drain because of this lazy, manichaean, writing. And that, my friends, is bad writing at its peak.

[becca-e-barnes]

Thinking so much about clingy, mutually possessive, filthy sex and how much I just need that rn

The kind of sex where you and Bucky just can't feel close enough to each other. You physically can't get any closer than you are, his thick cock buried so deep inside you but you still need more of him. He has nothing left to give you and you're glad because if he was any longer, you wouldn't be able to take the rest.

You're panting against his neck, whining out your frustration each time he slides home into your warm, wet body. His own groans are low, rumbling from his throat and hanging in the humid air of the bedroom you share.

"You know I can't fucking resist you. I can't." Bucky moans, grasping one of your wrists, guiding it between your bodies, encouraging you to play with yourself while he fucks you.

"I can't say no to you. Fuck, I'm yours." You hardly hear what he's saying over the obscene, wet sounds of your body accommodating his.

Your fingertips rub against your slick clit and the sensation is almost too much. "You're mine." You whine against his neck, using your free hand to claw at his back, driving him impossibly closer to you.

There's something reassuring about the feeling of his skin on yours. It's hot and sweaty but it's so comforting being naked with him, enjoying the pleasure of each others' bodies. You don't feel vulnerable communicating your pleasure to him; you feel understood.

"I am." He groans, eyes fluttering shut, lost in the way your body clings to him. "All yours. And you're mine, aren't you? My good girl."

It's a relentless build up, each stroke taking you a little further than the last and at some point, the band just has to snap.

"I am." You whine, barely able to manage any more words than that.

"You feel like Heaven. You were made for me. This warm, tight little pussy fits me perfectly." His body still isn't close enough to you, not that there's any way you could physically feel more of him.

"You take me so well, you know that? You take every drop of cum and you still beg me for more. Fuckin' love it." Just the very mention of Bucky pumping his release into you makes your walls flutter, dreaming of the feeling of his thick load shooting into you.

"I can't last like this." You hear him mutter and you're almost glad because you're not far off either. "Can't last when I can see that pretty face." His eyes meet yours and he pulls you in for a kiss that stifles your moans for a few seconds.

"Bucky, please." You groan when he pulls back, rubbing yourself just a little too quickly now that you've gotten desperate.

"Go on sweetheart, let me feel you cum for me." It only takes a few more strokes for your high to take over, pleasure rippling through you in a way that leaves your legs shaking.

You almost miss the start of Bucky's release, given how distracted you are by your own but the unmistakable throbbing of him inside you tells you he's reached his own peak if his moans didn't give it away.

[inamindfarfaraway]

The Exorcists’ Masks of Virtue

The vast majority of Exorcists in Hazbin Hotel have a notable design element that other angels don’t: their masks are missing an eye. Specifically, the right eye.

I believe this is a reference to the Bible, Matthew 5:29. Jesus says, “If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.”

He’s being hyperbolic. Mr Free Healthcare was not pro-mutilation. What he means is that you have to be willing to make sacrifices to prevent sin. The context of the eye metaphor is him condemning adultery and warning that even something as easy, casual and small as a look full of lustful intent can lead to further, worse sin if you don’t notice your sin, hold yourself accountable for it and do the work to not let it influence your decisions. This will probably be hard. It could be very, very painful. Changing your perspective can feel as horrible as plucking out your eye, so many people can’t bring themselves to do it. But although it won’t feel that way in the moment, it’s healthier for our general wellbeing in the long run to abandon traits and behaviours that damage ourselves and/or others.

(You may notice that Jesus’s teaching that you can have sinned, redeem yourself by giving up sin and thus escape damnation is the founding principle of the Hazbin Hotel. You may also notice that it contradicts everything the Exorcists believe.)

The Exorcists seem to follow this idea of painfully excising badness for the sake of the greater good devoutly to the point of placing it above teachings like ‘Thou shalt not kill’, with their job being to remove sin, in the form of sinners, to protect Heaven. Hence the missing right eyes. They’re a declaration of moral righteousness and inability to stumble.

But the truth is that the Exorcists all have their right eyes. Their flawlessness is a facade. Underneath, they are untouched, think themselves morally untouchable and, as shown by their horror and outrage when even one of them is killed, would much rather be physically untouchable too. This perfectly represents their complete unwillingness to acknowledge their own faults, let alone improve. They are never the ones who sacrifice. They force the sinners to sacrifice and don’t compensate it with any salvation. They metaphorically rip out the sinners’ eyes, but still condemn their entire bodies as inherently, permanently sinful. So they’ll just have to do another Extermination to get the other eyes! And another one to cut off their right hands! And so on until there’s nothing left.

The only exception to the rule is Vaggie, both in appearance and character. Her mask has the left eye crossed out instead. Even before her expulsion, she’s set apart to the audience as an Exorcist who has the capacity to, shall we say, see a different side of things. Her mask having its ‘sinful’ right eye reflects her understanding that the Exorcist worldview is wrong.

When she almost kills a demon child, her hateful vision clears. She discards the part of herself that’s an unquestioning, merciless agent of death, terror and grief… and as punishment for what Lute perceives as treacherous weakness, gets her eye plucked out.

Of course Lute leaves her with only the ‘sinful’ eye. It brands Vaggie forever as the inversion, a perversion, of what the Exorcists are meant to be.

You know, all this talk of eye removal in the Bible reminds me of another line - ‘an eye for an eye’. Adam directly quotes it in “Hell is Forever”. He uses it to frame the Exterminations as Old Testament-style punitive justice; the sinners did harm and so they receive it. But putting aside the debate about how ethical the concept of revenge is, the entire point of taking an eye for an eye is that it’s proportional. The punishment fits the crime. If someone cuts your eye out, you shouldn’t murder their whole family in front of them and then slowly disembowel them to death. That would be the sin of wrath. You should just make them pay without excessive pain or collateral damage. This is the fairest form of revenge.

The Exorcists don’t do that! The Exterminations aren’t proportional to the wrongs of all they hurt, nor was Vaggie’s brutal punishment equivalent to her extremely mild insubordination. Lute literally takes Vaggie’s eye, and more, after Vaggie does nothing to her! That’s the opposite of the phrase! Adam and his soldiers are wrathful and cruel, deriving satisfaction from others’ suffering. But they just can’t stop going on and on about how disgustingly evil the sinners are, in total hypocrisy… despite some of the sinners being far better people than the genocidal Exorcists are… it’s like they’re obsessed with specks of dust in the sinners’ eyes when they have massive logs stuck in their own. Oh hey, that’s in the Bible too!

[witchofthesouls]

Wait something funny just occurred to me. In the AU where the kids get cyber formed but remain on the edge of being adults, someone would have had to give them the Cybertonian version of The Sex Talk.

Would it be Ratchet, giving them the strictly medical side of things, or would it be some bot, talking about the experimental/exploring parts?

(I genuinely believe Ratchet would have an aneurysm of some kind at the prospect of it. But let's pretend)

I have to name this verse properly because Tarn isn't here, but it will eventually lead the D.J.D. to Earth. I'll keep the soulmate au tag until I can figure out something.

Ratchet does have an aneurysm because he has set ideas on what is and isn't 'appropriate' from Functionist-held Golden Age Cybertron, but he also carries a lot of guilt from out-surviving almost all his friends, cohorts, and students...

And it's all being dragged into the mud by the Jasper trio, who gives no quarter on crushing his prejudices and fears. Even Raf, his favorite, casually steamrolls over it with the draconian and American mindset of giving no fucks.

Team Prime had harmless thought exercises of what their charges' Cybertronian frames would be like... and none of them were remotely correct!

Because Miko is a Seeker femme, Raf may or may not be a type of Predacon, and Ratchet can't get proper readings on Jack's base-coding, Ratchet sits them all down because they're not sparklings or mechlings with sealed plates but full-framed mecha with total access. He gives them the reproductive talk, especially since Seekers and beastformers go into reproductive heats, but humans don't have that. He's trying to be mindful, and Ratchet is going through the different sexual methods and the variations of parts. Of course, Raf has to interrupt because the draconian mech has two spikes and no receptacle, and he would like to know about any necessary care.

All in all, it's really Ratchet having another fit because his weird humans are now weird Cybertronians of yore/throwbacks. And the ex-humans are taking it rather well, but Jack, Miko, and Raf had literally lifetimes to explore sexuality: as humans, human-hybirds by exploring their heritage as well as alchemical concoctions and very curious lovers.

This, however, did kickstart the path of Ratchet teaching Miko his medical knowledge as she doesn't want the results. She's burning to have the technical skills and knowledge of the processes. Ratchet does pass on his skills to Raf and Jack, but Raf prefers the science as Jack is more fascinated by procuring research material. Miko literally bullzoned her way to become his student. The howling matches they had shook the foundations of the base, but she got her way because she deliberately aimed at his vulnerable parts. ("You'll leave us one day to go back to Cybertron! And you're refusing to tell me how to properly care for myself!?") Ratchet is highly concerned about how voracious Miko's appetite is for that knowledge.

She yearns to become a Tsunade/Unohana terror among them because they have a strong suspicion that if their status is revealed, then they'll become targets. She'll become a Cybertronian Bloodbourne horror if it means she'll never be trapped like what happened to some of her kin.

[wickmitz]

I decided to start talking about Wick and Rocky's relationship because I like their dynamics too, I like seeing Wick scared of Rocky and Rocky being aggressive with him, which is unusual because Rocky is rarely aggressive with anyone, but of course Wick is an exception to rule

Also my mini opinion about their possible relationship, I think that if Rocky didn't have to fight for his place, then he and Wick could become friends, or at least tolerate each other a little, I also see some superficial similarities, their gentlemanly and romantic natures, and their common love for explosions (remembering the quarrymen chapter), but this is my assumption, I think that I don't understand the characters' personalities well, so I can be wrong in this assumption, something like that. So, what do you think about their relationship?

for starters, i cannot thank you enough for this ask! as i’ve said previously, i have many thoughts on these two, so it’s nice to finally be able to share some of them. although given the extent to which i think about them, i apologize in advance if this is sloppy and sort of everywhere … while i’ll try to structure things the best i can, i cannot promise i’ll succeed! but hopefully this is an enjoyable reply nonetheless.

one of my favorite things about rocky and wick’s relationship is absolutely how aggressive rocky is towards the aristocrat ; he is prone to glares and cruel jokes and borderline hissing whenever the man is within his line of sight, or can be brought to a wailing-fit over the mere mention of his name from miss m’s mouth. there is a childishness to it, but a very prominent threat as well in spite of rocky’s usual incompetence. so he goes out of his way to posture around wick, readily lying and adorning himself with the gangster drapes he so badly wants to wear, in the hopes that it intimidates … will even badmouth wick’s family and make fun of his name and rock related obsession to mitzi, and so on so forth! yet all of this is very reminiscent of schoolyard bullying rather than anything too severe, though we as the audience understand rather quickly that rocky would bash wick’s head in with a tire iron if he could. ( translation : if it wouldn’t earn the tears or hate of a certain beloved mitzi may ) and it’s all very intense despite the absence of actual violence! and i understand why many fans see this as unusual for rocky and believe that it’s only wick who makes him act so aggressively, but i’d argue it isn’t really wick at all that prompts such scary reactions from him … and that rocky is a deeply angry character who’s a.) been boiling quietly for a long, long time and b.) has turned wick into a punching bag of sorts for this inner world of resentment and hurt. basically, when he’s judging the well-to-do or poking fun, his eyes don’t look at wick and actually acknowledge him as sedgewick sable ; instead this is a being, something vague and metaphorical, who threatens to upseat rocky’s permanence in the lackadaisy and steal away his savior, and he’s had a hand in the violinist’s misfortune for a long time.

obviously, rocky doesn’t think wick robbed him of his family twice over and made him homeless, but he is channeling the fear and anguish of those events into his loathing for wick, if that makes sense? it’s easier that way -- to finally have an outlet for everything bleeding inside of you, to be able to bite and claw at something without feeling conflicted or having to take personal accountability for your own mistakes … which is something that i think rocky does struggle with to a degree. he is sort of a finger pointer! his pain has to be worth something, it has to be for someone else ; spending years homeless and losing his last bit of family was for freckle, and the scrambling of his literal brain was for mitzi, and that means he can’t ever be angry with them! well, except that he is, somewhat, but he buries it deep down instead of feeling it. with freckle there is a sense of strain between them -- an air of ‘you owe me’ from rocky to freckle as he uses freckle to appease miss m, and he constantly pokes fun at his cousin too. it’s lighter than his jabs at wick, but there’s a constant pestering, a reminder of how good freckle has it : how he’s got the mom and the house and the job and the girl most notably. i don’t think rocky is intending to come across as mean, and to his credit he hardly does! but it’s rather clear to me that some part of him, some hidden and deeply hurt part, is rather indignant about taking the fall for freckle all those years ago. which he can’t understand, because how could he? he made that choice, he decided to take accountability for something he didn’t do because he loves freckle and knows it’d be so easy to believe this family tragedy was roark’s fault ; the devilish child he was, all troublesome and too broken to properly fit anywhere. so there is a disconnect born here, where rocky can’t comprehend that he’d be angry at freckle, so instead these not so great feelings are placed elsewhere and silently boil over time. and with mitzi … i don’t think he’s angry at her per se, but there is a frustrated and desperate chorus of : why him and why not me, when i’m the one out here dying for you? which is certainly unpleasant. of course, rather than allowing those feelings to be more aimed at miss m, whom he feels unloved by, he ( again! ) represses these emotions and allows them to fester into his greatest fears and fantastical complexes. i think there is a lot of other miscellaneous anger he could have towards others too … perhaps some part of him is sore upon seeing ivy’s normal lifestyle, watching her go to university and knowing that’s been taken from him. or an ache felt when hearing stories from zib and the band and how they used to travel successfully, living as nomads, and rocky is all too reminded of his similar lifestyle and how he couldn’t make it work as effortlessly. people with immense trauma are more prone to irrational anger and jealousy, to viewing everything around them as unfair and believing it’s even more unjust that so many people get to live comfortably while they’ve suffered. a situation that gets more messy when you’re someone like rocky, a man who’s willingly made choices that have harmed himself and wants to continue on with his smiling, bumbling fool of an act. he does not want to be angry, does not want to see it within himself, i think, which leads to an accidental increase of it.

all of this is to reiterate that wick is a scapegoat for rocky and nothing more. it’s why he’s rather hypocritical whenever it concerns the man. for example, it was stated by tracy that he looks down upon wick for his excessive presence at the bar, yet he appears to enjoy hanging out with zib -- who drinks just as often! he makes fun of how all wick ever talks about is rocks, when he himself is prone to poetry rambles that people find irritating or boring, and etc etc. this is also just a human nature thing, to critique someone you heavily dislike and even going as far as to belittle things you love or do in your own day to day because you just hate them that bad! but given rocky’s willingness to befriend anyone, it more so reeks of a dehumanization element. wick is every obstacle in his way, every divine force that threatens to send him packing again, so he is equal parts unnerved by wick’s presence and angry about it. it is mostly a fear response we are seeing, an emotion that’s morphed into long held resentment and anger. so his actions are extremely defensive, with him trying to push wick far away and keep him and mitzi separate, like some sort of animal attempting to ward off a threat that’s come too close to their home. despite the loaded animosity there, this hate has hardly reached its peak … but it shall only grow more intense as things continue onward i’m afraid, since as it stands ( in the comic at least ) rocky is at an all time low … and is ten times more desperate. i’d honestly say wick has become so warped in his mind’s eye that he can only strive towards ‘winning’ over the other man, because that’s all he can see anymore. i think mitzi implying that wick willingly helped her out, the intense head injury, and rocky’s fragile emotional state is exactly what pushes him towards premeditated murder in look-see. i don’t know how people perceive that arc, but to me it’s very clear that rocky actively sought to see the deaths of wes and fish that night. going as far as to lament that he’d be, “very disappointed if ( he ) dreamed them,” and purposefully luring the marigold duo away to have freckle pick them off. while you could argue that this was a smart move, in a gangster sort of sense, there’s still no denying that rocky is oddly chipper about the whole thing and is now seeking death out ; whereas before his methods of vengeance were just, well, ruining people’s livelihood but ultimately leaving them alive. this isn’t to discredit the fact that rocky is going through something! he is in a very muddled and dark place, mentally and physically, but even tracy has said that the head injury hasn’t changed rocky’s personality -- it’s only brought things to the surface.

source : q&a with tracy .

which, yeah! makes sense! head trauma can cause a person to become a wreck emotionally ( think mood swings, irritability, etc ) but it doesn’t completely morph someone either. personality changes may occur, but it’s not like you’re being rewritten entirely, you know? and given tracy’s old statement, it’s clear that ‘personality changes’ aren’t a side effect he’s suffering from. something that adds to my beginning statement, which is that rocky is a deeply angry and troubled person, more so than fans give him any credit for.

however, to touch upon your mini opinion about these two, i actually wholeheartedly agree that rocky and wick could become friends if circumstances were different. they do in fact have many superficial similarities, but one of the more prominent things they deeply share is never really belonging in the groups they frequent. this is more overt with rocky’s character, yet wick faces it too in subtle ways. the well-to-do crowd, seen through the investors, find the gentleman to be lacking in about every place imaginable ; to them he is an obsessive freak who cares too deeply for meager rocks, something they constantly mock him for, while he’s also being noticeably set apart from the rest of them … he seems younger than the investors, more excitable, passionate, and a little less experienced, and doesn’t seem to care for money or reputation as much as them either. there is a constant rubbing between him and them, where what he enjoys is seen as wrong, such as his love for the lackadaisy and his choice in paramor, a grieving widow with extremely dangerous ties. we also know that wick doesn’t have many friends at all, with the only two he has being lacy and church ( church is listed as such on his character profile, in a sort of tongue-in-cheek way ), both of whom work for or with him. they are obliged to hang around, and while they care in varying ways, they are prone to judging him just as much. honestly, it’s not shocking that wick seeks refuge at his chosen speakeasy! but even there he is rather distant from everyone else. he doesn’t speak to zib ever in the comics, nor seems all too close with viktor, ivy, or horatio … it is merely mitzi he is close to, even if he knows of the other people who work there. and, once again, wick very obviously doesn’t fit in. he is not gangster material, could never be an atlas may replacement, much less someone who could get his paws dirty in such an active way. so he has his feet in two different worlds and doesn’t know how to fit into either of them, or which one he actually wants to fit into more. i think in many ways rocky could relate -- these are two very lonely people who wish to belong somewhere and be accepted by some group or another but go about it in all the wrong ways. wick, who is too hesitant to fully commit to what he wants and is worse off for it, and then rocky, who obsessively throws himself against what he wants until he breaks every bone in his body. they also have explosives to bond over, lol, and other miscellaneous things like their taste in women i suppose … but this potential bond adds to the tragedy of lackadaisy, where we see two people who on every level should get along but we’re burdened with the knowledge that it’s an impossibility anyway, because there’s no removing the circumstance of which they’re in.

though i like to believe that despite wick’s fear of rocky, he maintains a kindness towards him regardless. i think his worries about rocky are rather surface level … he doesn’t know the boy at all, really, and thus can’t make heads or tails of him, hence him believing the lie in balderdash. so when i’m feeling particularly self indulgent, i like imagining a world where they’re forced together and sort of ‘stuck’ together ; to which rocky finally breaks and exposes his wounds to wick, in every sense of the word, and wick finally gets him. the aggression, the possessiveness of mitzi … it is all fear and desperation and a profound sadness, things he’d sympathize with. if rocky was able to explain that he loathes wick because if he saves the lackadaisy then mitzi won’t need him anymore and that it’s not fair that wick gets to so easily fix things when rocky would give his soul for his home, for her, and how wick could render every sacrifice he’s already made for naught by smoothing things over with some greenbacks and he can’t lose this, he just can’t --! … which, well, wick is too kind of a man to be able to do anything except feel awful, even though it’s not his fault at all. here we have two people who could coexist! and they should, since rocky logically can’t do every speakeasy job ( band member, rumrunner, mitzi’s shadow, also the guy who gets the money for the hooch ) by himself, just like how wick can’t save the lackadaisy with only his cash and limited booze stash. it’d be a joint cooperation, a collaboration between them, both equally important in the grand scheme of crime’s every turning wheel … but rocky’s rage and fear won’t let him see that, and likely never will. still, in scenarios where everything ends up alright for the lackadaisy and the people involved in it ( which is not how canon will go, by the way ), i fancy wick and rocky getting better within their relationship. rocky will always be prickly and quick to upset around the other man sadly, but perhaps he could see wick in a softer kind of light. or at least understand vaguely enough that he isn’t out to get rocky, so to speak. and then maybe wick learns that pancakes soothe rocky’s ire and poorly makes them anytime he wishes to talk to the man, and other fun things like that! but you should have more confidence in your character analysis skills, because you were spot on ( at least in my eyes ) about them potentially getting along if things were different. it’s certainly a fun aspect to play around with, and is important to note when discussing their relationship so you can fully understand just how warped rocky’s perspective on things are. and how unstable and traumatized he is too, of course </3 sidenote, but i also hope that throughout everything i’ve said here, or anything i’ve said before on my blog, that my love for rocky and my own sympathy for him comes across well enough. while he’s deeply flawed and i have no qualms discussing said flaws in depth, i also don’t think of him as some insane freak who’s evil at his core or anything like that. honestly, i adore analyzing him so much as a character because of how far down his issues go! he’s very well written, i’ll say, as is wick and many of the other characters, but i digress.

once more, thank you for the ask! i’ll end this here because i fear if i don’t i’ll start going in circles, since their relationship is so vast and very important for rocky in a character sense. hopefully i shed some more light on it though! i love these two to bits and pieces and i wouldn’t be half as invested in lackadaisy if their dynamic wasn’t so monumental -- at least to me.

[uter-us]

radfem help !!

2 of my little cousins (14yrs and 15yrs) are both girls dating boys right now, and together we are coming up with a "dealbreaker list" of things they will never put up with from their bfs! and also we are including positives, like so they aren't just looking for the absence of bad things, but actual positive things

what do yall think are the most important things to add? (i put extra info in tags)

Thank you so much!!!

[killerpancakeburger]

Been srlsy into the idea of writing more, explicitely fat Reader. Not sure how to tags it thought.

[applestorms]

actually. @moonlarked you wanted someone to talk about near & light as parallels? cuz uh...

ok SO, my big hot take on near is something like this: one of the most common criticisms i see about near is that he is simply too apathetic/bored/uncaring/etc, and that because he is not as emotionally invested as L, his win against light doesn't feel nearly (lol) as satisfying as it could've been. this is a view that often frustrates me, but for a very particular reason— namely, while i think it is somewhat accurate in content, i think it misses a lot of important context (and also misses a lot of the importance of light's character arc, but we'll get to that much later).

one of the most important things to remember about the wammy's kids is that, whether they like it or not, each and every one of them is defined almost entirely through their relationship to L. this is perhaps more obvious in the case of characters like BB and mello, who are very Aware of this shadow being cast upon them and react in very overt, emotional ways (e.g. becoming a literal serial killer out of seemingly pure spite & desire to be noticed, idolizing him but in a very emotionally complicated, kinda detached sorta way, etc), but it is true for Every wammy's kid, purely because of how the house itself functions. these kids are being raised to be L's successor— the greatest (and second greatest, and third greatest) detective on the planet. this is the ultimate goal hanging over every one of their heads, and it places a constant pressure on every kid there.

oftentimes, i think (perhaps both out of story and in it, as well?) people get so caught up in comparing near to L that they forget he also falls under this umbrella— only, for near, his position is slightly different because he actually somewhat succeeds at the task? like, yeah, L never gets the chance to officially call near his successor, but between the fact that he's constantly called the #1 kid at wammy's and that he. literally does actually end up becoming the new L after kira, i think it's always been pretty clear what his path was going to be.

going back to my starting point, this is one of the main ways that near makes a really good parallel to light in my mind, specifically the light that we see right at the start of the series. in both cases, near and pre-DN light, we see a kid who has succeeded at everything they've been handed, and more notably, we see a kid who is bored out of his fucking mind looking at the prospects of what he's got.

in the case of light, this is maybe a little more realistic/easy to understand— light does well in academics, he does well in sports, he does well with people. he is likely to follow in his father's footsteps with something criminal justice/police/law related, but even if he diverges from that path it likely won't be too big of a deal, as he has shown himself to be capable in enough areas that he's likely to succeed no matter what. by all measurable standards, light's doing pretty good at the start of the series. and yet— there is something so distinctly and inherently Bland about his life before he gets the DN. i've said before that light wouldn't call the DN a curse even if he wanted to, but i think in that moment when he's telling ryuk he disagrees w/ his father after visiting him in the hospital, when he says, "I've never once considered finding that notebook and gaining this power a misfortune. In fact, it's made me happier than I've ever been." (ch.22) he's still getting at something real and truthful.

again, going back to my equating of boredom with depression in this series— light's life is pretty good by all measurable standards. he has a family who loves him, presumably more than enough money to get by with a pretty cushy lifestyle, and does well, honestly better than well, in every single system he is presented with. but even so, he's still unhappy. there is something in his soul that has not yet been satisfied. he's bored of the world, bored of his place in it, how easy it all is. what the DN really offers him is a challenge, entertainment— just the same as L, and just the same as ryuk.

near similarly suffers from this kind of boredom, though it is perhaps less overtly stated than in the case of light, L, and ryuk, and less easy to catch as it is not as realistic/common. again: near basically ends up the winner of wammy's house. he is the one to take the title of L, he's declared the smartest, bestest kid at wammy's, and he gets all the power and privilege that comes with such a title. but still— he's so. fucking. bored. much to the embarrassment of mello, this shit was never really a challenge to him. it's pretty obvious that near isn't really even all that attached to the title of L— don't forget that his first real introduction to the story involves him explicitly saying that he'd be just fine working with mello as essentially co-L successors. and this is a viewpoint that he holds onto until the very end of the series, actually, claiming that he was only able to best light due to mello's sacrifice. near doesn't really give a fuck about the rat race he's been slotted into, though it's perhaps for that exact reason that he ends up winning it anyway, and getting all the responsibility that comes along.

that being said, i think there are still two main differences between light and near:

light fucks up.

near never gets past his boredom.

in the case of this first point, i do not mean to say that near never ever makes any move/judgement that could be considered a mistake— mello killing the entire SPK is the first thing that comes to mind, which i see as blood on near's hands for the same reason that L takes at least some responsibility for lind l. tailor. rather, i mean that near never makes a such a monumental fuck-up that he has to overturn his entire worldview just to account for it in the same way that light does when he accidentally kills two people w/ the DN the first time.

it's like, if you've ever known (or been) the kind of kid who always got perfect grades in school, straights A's for K-12, only to reach college and suddenly bomb their first test and have an existential crisis as their only real achievement in life is crushed into dust, then you know light yagami. only for light, it's on a whole 'nother scale, because not only does he fucking oopsie daisy kill two people, but he kills in such a context that he can mentally manipulate it back into seeming heroic. i hate to say that suffering causes character development because that's terrible advice (it's how you react to terrible circumstances that matters, imho) but to some degree, yeah, having conflicts/hard times in life is just necessary to figure shit out sometimes. near (and L, oh goddd i need to write about L properly sometime) has so many things smoothed over and handed to him, and on top of that, he's a super genius very rarely fucks anything up, at least according to base logic. he doesn't even really consider the morality of anything he's doing until light straight up asks him in a desperate bid to keep talking at the end, it's all just logic and factors to consider.

this all leads to my second point, which is that near never really gets the chance to overcome his boredom in the same way as the others. ryuk at least gets his entertainment for a couple years, and light and L (and mello) get so invested in each other and their game that it literally kills them, but near just kinda. keeps going. he keeps being L, he keeps solving cases, he does the duty he was given and enjoys his toys... and that's it. he lies around, the only one left to live, never even taking credit for the end of KIRA, never gets another haircut, and keeps the title going. what a life, for a kid who dragged a god back down to earth.

sidenote1: toys

am i reading too into things? maybe. near's toys hold a lot of significance throughout the story in more specific ways, most notably the finger puppets he uses at the very end of the story while tracking different people's/kira's actions, though you could probably read some kind of meaning into every toy he has and the ways in which he plays with them. what i want to look at here though is more the general reasoning behind playing with them in the first place— a desire for a childhood he didn't get to have? a love of games more generally? (could track with him seeing the KIRA case, or really all detective work, as just another game.) you could also read into his toys as another source for near's apathy/detachment from reality, literally breaking every notable person around him down into a doll by the end of the story, speaking a lot to how alienated he is from the world (again, very similar to both L and light, there). i don't have much more of a point to make here, just wanted to add this in somewhere since it's one of his most striking visual character traits.

sidenote2: light's arc

going back to my point at the start of this post... light's character arc.

uhh. near winning is a good thing, actually. and i don't just mean that as a moral claim— DN itself as a story isn't really concerned with trying to answer any moral questions about good or evil or the justice system, so it makes sense & is fair to me that it doesn't try all that hard to answer anything along those lines by the very end of the story. what i mean to say here is that near winning is a good thing on the level of the character arc, specifically as an end to light's arc.

i made a post a while back while mid-manga reread talking through some of the reasons why L's death can feel kind of unsatisfying/paint the second half of the story in a less interesting light (hah) for a lot of viewers, with the main point i ended up on being that L wasn't really able to win because he never really had all that clear of a win state in the first place. i still kiiind of agree with this point, though i think there's a lot more i could add to that post... anyways. point is, i bring up that post because it touches on a similar thing to what i want to talk about here: light's character arc being a tragedy.

this is more speculation on my part, but i think another part of the reason why people get turned off to DN post-L death is not just the fact that L isn't really a playable character in the game anymore, but the fact that light's character arc takes such a dramatic twist after the timeskip. i talked about this a little bit in my little ramble on light & titles (which a lot of you liked, apparently!! ty for all the lovely comments on there, i love reading what you guys have to say ^w^), but light's character arc in DN is a tragedy to me, full-stop.

tragedies to me are cyclical— revolutionary, if you will. since all stories necessitate some kind of something to take place, a tragedy to me is all about a character beginning in one point, then continually getting hit by Event, after Thing, after Event, only to end up in essentially the exact same place that they started. any character changes or development that seem to happen throughout the story are ultimately nullified by the end— the main subject does not truly grow, does not truly reflect on their actions or traumas, does not move on. two steps forward is two steps back. even ending up in a position worse than they started is sometimes better than a true tragedy, in my mind, as at least then there is some chance they may still reflect or change or grow in the future, leaving the hope that they may still overcome this new circumstance later on. a true tragedy ends in nothing meaningful ever getting the chance to truly change, at least in the case of the main subject of the story.

light's character arc in the first half of the story is an upward, underdog kind of story. yes, light has the power of a shinigami, of a supernatural force that the rest of the world doesn't even know exists— but part of the real appeal of his conflict with L is how powerful L feels in comparison, having the wealth and respect and title to command a world's worth of forces against him. fuck, even taking down naomi misora feels like an incredible hurdle overcome, a teenager managing to charm and yap and flutter his eyelashes out of a shitty situation he was only just lucky enough to stumble across in the first place, to stop someone who could've ruined his entire plan with a few words. killing L was always going to be light's greatest accomplishment when it comes to his rise to godhood, not only because of L's great power but the comparative position of light at the time that he did so— not yet an adult, not even really out of school, perhaps barely out of his parents' house.

in contrast, light's arc for the second half of the story is a downward spiral. we see all of the consequences light has been miraculously avoiding smack into him like meteors in this half, his ever-growing ego torn to shreds as he's yanked back down to earth. and in comparison to the anime, the manga really beats this point into you, dedicating the entire second half of the story to light's fall from grace as he loses his mind and loses his humanity. like, while i do kind of prefer the manga ending to the anime, i have to admit that light's death there is fucking brutal. light goes through pages, chapters, purely dedicated to near tearing him a new asshole, only end the story bloody and delirious and crawling on his knees begging a god of death to fix everything— all just to die the exact same death as everyone else he's killed. i mean, look at these fucking pages (ch.107):

(that last fucking picture of him. clawing at the sky. it always fucking gets to me.)

it hurts to read this shit!! we spend the entire first half of the story watching this dude's rise to glory, the entire time stuck inside of his head, emotionally connecting with him even if we don't really mean to or disagree with his actions or question his morality. watching his fall back down, especially after all of that, is fucking painful— an in no way does near make the process any easier. if anything, his blunt, snarky bitchery, saying all the quiet parts out loud, calling light out for being a terrible replacement L and pointing and laughing at his failures to his face, only shoves more salt in the wound, only proves just how human he has been all this time, how meaningless any of his supposed "rise to power" ever really was. light got his fifteen seconds of fame, sure— but near is armed and ready to make sure that's all he'd ever get, that the name Light Yagami would never even be associated with the position he held for so long. six years was all he got— and it was all he was ever going to get, because light yagami did not do this for humanity, he did it for himself. all near did was collect the debt that L prescribed. he fulfilled his duty as told— nothing more, and nothing less.

i just have to wonder... is this why people hate him? because he has no sympathy for the fall? maybe. i don't know.

either way, i don't think i could ever really hate him. it's a big responsibility, being the only one left behind. but near has always been the one to hold such weights on his shoulders.

[v4visms]

if it doesnt have a ship name in the brackets, then i'm unaware of it (or maybe it just doesn't have one). if it does have one, feel free to tell me. i can't edit the poll, but now i know

if you voted "none of these," i'd like to hear in the reblogs/tags what i missed!

[xx-j4nu5-c4t5-xx]

i have an english assignment due in like twelve hours and still need to sleep but I think instead I should write pasnerv angst

[rowanhoney]

Bark patterns in the New Forest, England

[scionshtola]

FFXIVWrite2024 Prompt 4 - Reticent

characters: Hien Rijin, Y'shtola Rhul rating: G | word count: 1216 words notes: Hien clears up some misconceptions about his relationship with Corisande. Slight spoilers for the Stormblood patches.

When Y’shtola arrived in Doma, Hien greeted her personally. On the advice of Corisande—a small aside in a letter sent ahead of Y’shtola’s arrival—he kept the meeting short and to the point, inquiring about her work and offering his assistance, as needed. He’d provided her with an apartment, if she chose to accept it, and access to his limited staff as she desired.

She’d accepted his hospitality with appreciation, and Hien had left the encounter with a slight swell of pride at having done well by the Scion so highly spoken of by the Warrior of Light. Over the course of her stay in Doma, while their relationship did not grow so warm as the one she seemed to share with Yugiri, he was happy to say they were rather amicable.

Or so he thought. But now, walking beside her on the Azim Steppe, he could feel a chill wafting in his direction. 

Corisande had run slightly ahead to speak with Cirina, leaving Hien and Y’shtola alone together as they followed. Unsure of how long the moment of privacy would last, he cast about for some way of broaching the topic—and confirming his suspicions—and settled on, “Corisande has been a great help to the people of Doma. Our restoration efforts would not be half so far along without them.”

“I am sure they would be happy to know their efforts are making a difference,” Y’shtola said evenly, without looking in his direction. 

“They spoke very highly of you, on our journey together,” Hien continued, trying his best to be nonchalant. “Quite effusively, if I might add.”

“So you have said.” The response was just short of terse, and he was certain she had started walking faster, though her lack of height gave him the advantage. 

“You spoke as effusively of them when first we met.” Hien paused, and glanced at her before he spoke again. “I admit I didn’t quite grasp the depth of your friendship until the three of us began to work together.”

Her expression remained as smooth as a river-worn stone. It hardly surprised him. In the short time of their acquaintance, she had shown herself as a self-possessed woman, difficult to ruffle.

Y’shtola’s reply was short, in length and tone. “We are close.”

Her reticence amused him. Had he not spent the last few days with the both of them—had she not grown cool toward him with Corisande’s presence—he might have left her to her secrets. Instead, he said, “I didn’t think you were one for obscuring the truth. We both know that is quite an understatement.”

Even that was putting it lightly. He had borne witness for days now to the ways Corisande and Y’shtola gravitated toward each other. Always half-turned toward the other, as if a private world existed between the two of them. They seemed able to communicate full thoughts with only a look, despite the limits of Y’shtola’s vision, and they worked in perfect tandem together, often anticipating what the other would ask or say before they even spoke.

Perhaps that could be explained with a deep friendship, were it not for how often they seemed to forget he was there, providing him with an unobstructed view of the warmth in their gazes when they looked at each other—when they lingered long after the other had turned away. 

Ahead of them, Corisande was deep in conversation with Cirina, oblivious to the exchange happening behind her. Hien leaned slightly into Y’shtola’s space, whispering conspiratorially, “Though I am not sure Corisande quite realizes it yet.”

“I am not obscuring anything,” Y’shtola stopped just short of snapping at him. “There is nothing to hide. Though you may be unable to engage in a conversation with Corisande without flirtation, she and I have no need to partake in such behavior.”

Hien fought a smile at having his suspicions proven correct—the occasional flirtation peppered in the easy back and forth of his conversations with Corisande was the cause of her distance. He did not think she would take kindly to even minimal gloating, so he kept the victory to himself, and said, “No need, perhaps, but the desire is there. You need not deny it—neither of you are as subtle as you believe.”

“Your conclusions are ill-informed,” Y’shtola said, a sharp edge in her voice. He was not quite sure, between the two of them, who it was meant to cut. She turned to him with narrow eyes. “If our familiarity has been as overt as you suggest, it is simply a result of the gratification of our reunion.”

“Besides,” she added as she turned away, seemingly as an afterthought, though Hien guessed it was more of a calculated risk than any carelessness on her part. “Corisande’s attention is held elsewhere.”

It did not take an academic of any caliber to puzzle that one out. He laughed, and she shot an irritated look in his direction. “If their attention is elsewhere, it is certainly not on me.” 

Hien only flirted with Corisande because it made her laugh—she never responded in kind, and he never wished for her to do so. Any hope of romance between them had long diminished, almost before it had even begun. “Did she tell you of the kiss we shared on a hill not far from here?”

Y’shtola looked away again, her jaw set. “I know of it.”

An interestingly vague answer. She’d learned of it, but perhaps not from Corisande. “Then you should also know that it ended in disaster. And enough tears to drown any budding romance.” 

“If their grief was enough to deter you,” Y’shtola said, and this time there was no mistaking the recipient of her ire, “perhaps the romance should not have been pursued so casually.” 

“I will not argue that,” Hien said, with a twinge of shame in his chest. It had not been his proudest moment, though he was sure that the conversation that followed the short-lived attempt at romance had made way for the friendship they had now. “I knew very little of their past at the time. The feelings were new and not so deep rooted as—” yours “--those of others.”

Y’shtola studied him, her eyes narrowed. “You are becoming quite the diplomat.” 

“I’m certainly learning,” Hien said, with a smile. “You should tell them, and spare the rest of us all the longing looks at each others’ backs.”

Y’shtola laughed quietly, and he was grateful that the conversation was ending on a pleasant note. The chill he had felt from her had evaporated. 

He stepped forward, walking backwards so he could look at her as he spoke. “Or perhaps you need a challenge to motivate you? I can resume my efforts, if it will inspire you to speak up.”

Hien had barely enough time to dodge the stream of air she aimed at his head. She wore an impish smirk when he looked at her, and pushed her way past him with a bump of her shoulder. He watched her catch up with Cirina and Corisande, the latter of whom immediately looped her arm through Y’shtola’s as they walked. 

Corisande looked over her shoulder at him, smiling brightly and gesturing for him to catch up. He jogged after them, falling into step next to Cirina with a smile.

[wexhappyxfew]

and then i breathed

(a/n): AND SO I JUST STARTED TYPING (enter danny devito meme). basically, i started with an idea for this and couldn't help but keep writing so please enjoy!! serving up a nice view of kennedy x bucky in the stalag because that's where we really see the most development from them, more than anything. and to say the least, i am majorly misty-eyed over this and especially kennedy's character. when first developing her character, i didn't realize how much she'd develop up until this point and i am absolutely loving every bit of her in this angsty, hurt/comfort perspective. and of course, bucky makes the perfect person to put opposite her in so many ways. someone who equals her in humor and dialogue. i sincerely hope you all enjoy - this is almost a love letter to the kennedy x bucky girlies. thank you!! :D

The sound of the plane breaking in half had hit her like a slap in the face.

She remembered the sound so vividly that when the silence consumed her, her mind became overwhelmed by that very sound - the intrepid ripping of metal straight in half as she launched herself out of the belly of the plane, pulling the cord on her parachute, swinging through the war-torn sky alive with flak, enemy fighters and bullets, dangling out in the air, half-hoping something killed her right then and there.

She could hardly remember the feeling - landing in the middle of Germany, mind an absolute wreck, looking around for signs of Lieutenant Bradshaw or Lieutenant Carlisle or even some of the boys who'd been deposited into Silver Bullets after the 100th had run thin and they'd split the girls up.

Jenkins, their co-pilot, Hefner, their bombardier, Thillburn, their radio ops, or their turret ball gunner, Stalinker, their other waist gunner, Klinger, and tail gunner, Gronkowski.

None of them had shown.

She was half-hoping Margie was somewhere nearby, but had come up empty-handed.

She remembered the words that had come through the comms when Lieutenant Bradshaw had said they needed to bail out.

The ringing of that fucking bell.

The sound still wrung around in her head when she wasn't doing something to keep her mind distracted. She remembered it like a stop-motion picture. Flashes of moments that she wasn't sure were even real, but were true enough that her body reacted in ways she couldn't explain.

She watched herself stand in the belly of the plane, pulling the wounded Thillburn over, and attempting to wrap his crooked arm that was knocked into the worst possible position, the blood coating his shoulder and chest, soaking through his coat and covering her hands in a sticky mess.

She remembered him yelling, his words clouded by fear, nothing but a blank thought in her mind - what had he been yelling? What had he been trying to tell her? Were those his last moments of human contact before she helped to plunge him out of the plane? Was he alive? She'd known the kid for a few weeks, with only a few missions run alongside him, but had he been dropped out of that plane and lived? He had family back home, he had a life, a girlfriend he'd been writing to. Was he alive?

The look in his eyes sometimes came back to her a night, when she settled into her bunk and stared up at the wooden ceiling; it came back like a bad dream each night. His eyes boring into hers, begging to keep him alive. The thought made her skin crawl, it made her heart race, it made her want to lose it, trapped in this stupid excuse of a camp.

"You gotta stay with me, Thillburn!" Kennedy had yelled, her throat hoarse practically, her hands slick with blood as Thillburn writhed there on the ground, the whole plane creaking and screaming through the air, parts flying off and exploding off behind them, the yelling in her comms enough to make her vomit, the bell ringing overhead, the entire plane contorting and spinning through the air like the nightmare it had been. Over and over. Thillburn screaming.

Jenkins yelling to bail out, his form appearing in front of Kennedy, as he pointed and yelled to the opening. Her wide eyes filled with terror as she watched Jenkins pull Stalinker up from the ball turret, half-dead on his feet, blood dripping down his face, a giant piece of flak hanging out from his chest.

Kennedy remembered looking up and seeing Lieutenant Bradshaw dropping down from the cockpit, landing with such precision and calculated gusto, that Kennedy was sure that only force on the plane that had kept her level-headed in that moment was seeing Lieutenant Bradshaw come towards the group and calmly manage the situation.

Moving the frantic Jenkins towards the opening and telling him to go, hastily removing tags from Stalinker, and helping Kennedy to guide the flailing Thillburn to the belly of the plane to drop out.

Kennedy remembered the look in Annie's eyes; fear bathed in absolute horror and uncertainty - yet shoving it aside for the crew. To uphold command pilot the best she could. Kennedy remembered hearing Thillburn screaming for her as he went flying out of the plane, like a rag doll in his parachute begging for mercy.

"Kennedy!" he had screamed out into the open air, "Kennedy!"

And that's when she shot awake, her whole body in a damn-near paralysis, as her eyes locked on the wooden bunk above her, the sudden realization of the silence succumbing around her and where she was, along with the pounding of the blood in her ears, racing - over and over.

Slowly, she shifted her gaze away from the top of the bunk and towards the tiny room, all the members of the 100th that were there, completely and entirely asleep. It brought her a slice of comfort to see Lieutenant Bradshaw curled up on the bunk beside Captain Brady, her tiny bit of dirty-blonde hair hardly visible with the current hold Brady had on her there.

Annie put out so much for Silver Bullets that having her safe there in the arms of someone who would lay down his life for her, was a comfort. She could see the laden forms of Major Cleven, Bessie, Crank, Murphy, and Hambone around the place, along with Benny who was in the bunk above Margie, who nearly lay on death's doorstep on a bad day. Days of her current state had left her barely alive, but she was slowly improving.

Slowly, Kennedy brought her gaze towards the window and felt her heart nearly launch out of her chest. Bucky Egan was stood there by the window, his form unmoving, and his head slightly hung downward, his hair looking as if he had tried to get it into some sort of conformed place, but had failed. He looked so much more….quiet, in this light. Where he looked as if he was the only person awake in the room, trying to come to terms with whatever the hell they were currently in. His broad shoulders were still pronounced and held high, but there was something distant and withdrawn about his form that she was sure if she kept staring, he'd fade to black.

"You okay?" Kennedy locked her eyes on his form by the window and swallowed, "I know you're awake, Farley." Kennedy slowly reached her hand up to her chest, attempting to calm her racing heart and keep quiet. She felt if she tried to talk to him now, her heart would pound out of her chest fully and her words would get clogged in her throat enough to make her physically sick. And Bucky would see right through her like she was glass. In the cover of night, she let her walls down for herself and she didn't want another soul to have to see her like that. Broken and vulnerable and cracked all over. Bucky didn't need that. None of them did.

"You were mumbling in your sleep." Bucky whispered quietly again from the window and she heard him shift a bit, like he was moving his weight from one side to the next by the window, his voice still muffled - he wasn't looking at her. Kennedy swallowed.

"Bad dream." she whispered out, her voice unsteady, "I'm fine." She heard Bucky let out a quiet puff of air that sounded a bit like a breathy laugh, but she didn't bother. It seemed by this point, despite all efforts, Bucky could read her like an open book whenever he pleased.

"You sure?"

"Positive." Kennedy answered back, softly and quickly, an uncontrollable pinprick of a smile on her lips, "You get that sorta stuff in your mind with the shit we've all been through." She was playing it off, she was trying to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal - even if she could still hear the bail-out bell ringing in her mind. Over and over. Again and again.

"What was in it?" Bucky asked her, a genuine softness to his voice that made her heart give a dull pound, "Your dream?"

"Nothing." Kennedy said quickly, louder than she wanted - she heard someone shift on a bunk across the room a bit. She blinked a few times as her heart began to race.

For a moment, lying in that bunk, with the only person awake in that room being Bucky, she wanted nothing more than to be standing beside him, reveling in his presence and his body heat and his tall form, telling him everything in that dream and letting him tell her they were fine, that things would be okay, that in a way, it wasn't real. Even though it was. But she felt glued to that bunk. Frozen.

"Nothing?" Bucky said, a hint of a smile on his lips - she could always tell when he was smiling through his words and she couldn't see him. His voice became a bit deeper, and a bit lighter all at once, with a slight hint of surprise and hidden joy he didn't want you seeing. But she heard it every time. "Nothing at all, huh?"

"Serious." Kennedy offered back, "I'd tell you if it was bad. I'm fine." Bucky let out a soft laugh as she continued staring at the top bunk, her mind slowly crumbling into shambles. She wanted to be there beside him, she wanted some form of comfort that wasn't a wooden bunk and the bitter cold. She wanted him.

"C'mere, Farley." Kennedy slowly turned her head and found Bucky, for the first time, looking right towards her bunk, his eyes glowing a bit more in the darkness, reminding her, surprisingly, of Frank, Marianne's cat back on base. Watching her with that look in his gaze that drew her in enough to want to get up from the bunk.

Kennedy slowly shifted, and pulled her long legs over the edge of the bunk, before letting her feet slide to the ground. She stood there for a moment before turning to him and taking quiet steps towards his figure there against the window.

As she approached him, in this sudden quiet atmosphere, where it was just the two of them for once, not another soul awake, she felt every inch of his gaze on her. The moonlight outside reflected the side of his shadowed face enough for her to see that sad, far-off look in his eyes, and the hint of a hollow smile on his lips.

"What?" she asked him, regretting that she could get nothing better to come to mind when she was suddenly stood by his side. She watched Bucky grin at her in the darkness, from right there beside her and looked out the small window again and nodded.

"First time you see the stars out here?" She followed his line of sight and looked out the dusty window pane and, for the first time, just as he had stated, saw the stars. Glowing, twinkling there above them, ever-present and shining just as brightly as they had when she was a small child back home in Boston, staring up at them at night, praying for the future. For a moment, the world went still and she was that young girl again looking at the stars.

"Yeah, actually." she whispered back to him, looking up at the dark sky, before slowly glancing over at him, his full face illuminated in moonlight. For the first time, up-close, she got a good look at the scars on his face, underneath his eyes, the bruising (which was finally, slowly fading) and the way his eyes seemed more sunken in than she remembered. She swallowed.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked him quietly, watching as the corner of his lip curled upwards at her voice.

"Long enough." he whispered, and then shrugged, "Happens nightly. Don't get as much sleep as I want. Half the time, I stay awake because I don't need one of those German fuckers coming in here and pulling some shit." Kennedy stared at him, her heart pounding at the way his jaw had clenched and his eyes had gone dark.

"Nightly?" she asked him, resisting the urge to reach out and tenderly touch that face of his and tuck him into bed. These boys pushed themselves to the edge, it was no wonder all the girls were acting the way they were with these boys out here. They had no one but each other and youth brought a sense of maternal instinct to them all half the time.

"Yeah," Bucky said quietly, before glancing over at her, his eyes big like a puppy-dogs, "it's why I knew you were awake. You stopped breathing heavy - you hear that sorta stuff when you can't sleep at night." Kennedy watched him, her eyes flicking between his eyes and those scars on his face and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to wrap him in her arms and tell him in some way the world would be okay again.

"You've been up every night since you got here?" Kennedy asked him softly, "Bucky…." Bucky let out a soft chuckle and shook his head before looking at her.

"Kenny, it's fine." he said quietly as he leaned towards her slowly, that little nickname Judy usually called her rolling off his tongue with ease - it was always Farley, always, always Farley, what was this? "Never been better. Hey, I'd tell you if it was getting bad, alright?" Kennedy watched him sling her words right back at her and sighed slightly, her worry rising to levels she wasn't sure had been possible.

"So," Bucky said, glancing back out the window they were leaned up against, smiling slightly, "what was going on in that dream of yours?" Kennedy sighed and she heard Bucky laugh quietly.

"Are you seriously going to keep asking me that?" she managed out back to him, as quiet as she could.

"Maybe." he said with a humorous tone to his voice, "You get all passionate when I piss you off, so, maybe."

"I really wonder what goes through your head sometimes." Kennedy whispered back, with a slight bit of teasing in her voice, before she felt reality wash over her and she couldn't help but look to him again, regaining that feeling of wanting some sort of comfort. She couldn't work out the feeling of her nightmares, or that feeling of being alone in that bunk and trying to fight off her mind - it was making her go crazy.

"You wanna know?" Bucky asked her, gently nudging her shoulder, his voice suddenly more serious than she'd heard it ever before, sending her a quiet smile, "I'll tell ya." She watched him, her eyes unable to turn from his in a way that made her eyes glued to his.

"I'm really fucking scared of the way this place'll change me." he told her quietly, that smile on his face fighting to stay on his lips, like a part of him was trying to convince himself that he wasn't scared, that this wasn't what he was feeling, that this wasn't the reality, "That I won't ever get back to the person I was before getting dropped in here like a sack of potatoes." He let out a weak laugh and leaned against the window pane again, "Fuck." Kennedy watched him slightly from her tilted head and watched as he struggled to keep that smile on his face.

"Keeps me up at night. All this shit." Bucky said again, trying to do some more, further, convincing for himself, to make it all plausible. Kennedy felt so quiet beside him that she was sure she felt like a nuisance because of the fact she was saying nothing. But it felt like Bucky was saying things that he'd bottled up and was now forcing out because of the fact it was spilling over at this point. And he was trying to pull it all back in, but failing.

"You're still Bucky Egan to me." Kennedy said, her voice, for the first time in weeks, firm and confident. She looked over at him, with a nod. "You always will be." Bucky smiled at her, tender and gentle, and nudged her shoulder affectionately.

"Thanks, Kenny." he said quietly and she smiled at him with a nod. Then, both their gazes were set out the window pane again. But Kennedy was itching to say something, to get her voice to work. She felt like she needed to say something else. Almost awkwardly, she reached up to rub behind her neck before glancing at Bucky again.

"I was reliving when the plane got hit." Kennedy said quietly, causing Bucky to look towards her with a mixture of surprise and worry written all over his face, "The dream. It was like I was on the plane again as it went down. As Annie told us to bail. It happens all the time. At night, even when I nap. It's always in my mind. Those final moments." His eyes worriedly washed over her face as she stood beside him, suddenly any sort of stars or moonlight seemingly forgotten about and his focus solely on her.

"Every night?"

"Mostly." she offered, with a nod, "You get used to it. The bail out bell. The plane snapping in half like a toothpick. The screaming." Kennedy shivered, with a nervous smile on her lips.

"You could've woken me up." he offered to her and she shook her head.

"I usually just count back from 100 and then I'm asleep again," she told him quietly, "my mind's usually blank the second time I get myself to sleep anyway." Bucky stood frozen beside her, his body ridged and his eyes hard and narrowed. He slowly nodded, like taking in what she was saying was physically hurting him.

"Thillburn?" he asked her. She must've been mumbling his name on her lips at night. He must be dead.

"Radio ops." she said quietly, "He was half-dead when Annie and I got his parachute on him and got him out. Haven't seen him since."

"What happened to him?" Bucky asked, his voice distant.

"Flak got him…..I think. Came right through the side of the plane." Kennedy managed, as her eyes became misty, "He was begging for me to save him, ya know?" She looked over at Bucky and that moonlight bathing his face and sniffled slightly, before shrugging and looking back down at her fingers, knotted into one another, her thumb rubbing in that same spot over and over when she was worried. She let out a shuddering breath.

"Kennedy, Kennedy, he yelled, over and over. Don't know if I even did anything to save him." Kennedy managed out, "I just hope he landed somewhere…..and if he went, it was peaceful. Ya know?" She looked to Bucky and watched him nod firmly at her - even just seeing him acknowledge her was enough to know in a way that she wasn't crazy deep down. That someone was listening to her and she didn't sound like she was talking out of her ass to him.

"Stalinker. Ball turret gunner," Kennedy offered looking over at Bucky, "must've died on impact. Flak got him." What if that had been Judy, Kennedy thought quietly, feeling her stomach turn.

"Jenkins, our co-pilot. He disappeared somewhere in the clouds." Kennedy said softly, "They were shooting at us after we jumped out. The Germans." Bucky's grip on the window pane made his knuckle turn white and she saw him glance over at her with a stern look in his gaze.

"It just…it lives in my mind. That moment, those 15 minutes of hell," Kennedy said softly, "it's so stupid, but I just can't get it out of mind. Thank God for Annie, hell she was the only stable one of us up there. She's the only reason I'm probably alive."

"Bradshaw's pretty good for that, huh?" Bucky said, his voice more strained than it had been and she nodded as she looked over at him, "She keeps us all going more often than not." Kennedy managed a shaky smile and nodded to him as her eyes welled with tears. He slowly looked towards her and noticed that look in her eyes, nearly quicker than herself and offered her a weak smile.

Bucky didn't take another second though to reach out to her shoulder, closing that small distance between them, rubbing his hand against her shoulder, in circles, over and over, allowing her to catch her breath for a moment, knowing he was right there beside her.

"It's not stupid, Kenny," Bucky said quietly, his thumb brushing against the bare skin on the back of her neck, "you know that. The shit we went through, how we all got here. It was all fucking hell. Thought I was gonna die out there. I'm half-surprised I'm even standing here talking to you now."

"I'm glad you are."

"Thanks, Kenny." She managed a watery smile his way as he smiled weakly back. They watched each other in the quietness for a moment, and she watched as Bucky smiled wider at her, which made her feel safer in that moment more than anything else.

"C'mere, Kenny." he said quietly, pulling with that arm on her shoulder to him. And with how weak and broken she felt, she took that small step between them, and let him pull her into his arms, collapsing into his warm embrace, her face breaking against his chest, as his arms wrapped around her, holding her up against his form.

Kennedy had become pretty good at crying without making a noise, but with each tremor that came from her body, she could hear her silent whimper in the back of her throat that was enough to make her fracture more.

The sound made her think of when she was younger, racing after her brothers on Main Street, unable to catch up to them because she was the youngest sibling and the shortest with the smallest legs. And she'd usually trip and split open her knee and be sobbing her heart out. And then her brothers would come back and coddle her and wrap up her knee with some fabric from one of their shirts and help her back home for her Ma to fuss over.

And soon enough, it happened all the time, and she was able to mask it all. She'd brush off her brothers and her Ma and she toughened up, so she could keep playing.

Eventually it became her way to hide everything from everyone.

But with the way Bucky was holding her, she knew he was looking through her like glass, like he always did.

Kennedy could feel his warm breath from his slow-moving breathing, washing down on top of her as his one hand stayed steady on her lower back and the other lingered between the back of her head and her neck, her unruly hair mused in his fingers as he continued to hold her there. A part of her told her to stand up, move away from his embrace and his arms and him; she was strong enough on her own, she could handle this. But her other half told her to stay there, let him hold her, in the cover of darkness, in the middle of the night - someone was willing to hold her there and not let go. No one had ever been like that towards her, no previous person in her life had been such a way around her.

Holding her in the cover of darkness to try to chase away any sort of nightmare like the ones she always had.

Slowly, she turned her cheek against his chest and listened to the soft pound of his heart in his chest. Her cheeks wet with fresh tears, her eyes itchy and no doubt beet red, she couldn't help but relish the feel of his arms around her - he was so warm, so present, just standing there. It was like the ocean waves had crashed over her, pummeling her down onto the sand, and were finally, slowly receding again, letting her breathe. Kennedy slowly pulled her face from his chest and looked up to search for his eyes again and found him already watching her with that quiet look of his; she attempted to smile.

"I'm sorry if the front of your shirt is wet. It's cold enough as it is," she whispered quietly, her voice sounding like she had been yelling for hours, "thank you, Bucky." Bucky quirked out that lopsided grin of his.

"I don't mind. Honored to have a woman like you wrapped in my arms," he whispered back to her quietly, a small laugh following, "I think we should do this more often." Kennedy sniffled out a small laugh, reaching her hand up to flick his shoulder in her weak attempt at protest that she always did with him. But with the way he was looking at her and holding her, she couldn't keep up their usual banter it seemed and just let him hold her.

"You think?" she whispered back, and then sniffled, smiling slightly, "You tell anyone about this and it's on-sight, alright, Major?"

"Yes, ma'am." he said, his voice low as she let out a small laugh and rolled her eyes at him, not entirely minding the feeling of his gaze on her and hands pressed onto her back. She watched him for a moment, before he cleared his throat.

"Hop in my bunk," he said quietly, "you'll sleep better. I'll be your knight-in-shining-armor or some shit. Fight off the nightmares." Kennedy watched him, her cheeks blazing, her eyebrows rising in surprise.

"Uh…really-"

"Yeah, yeah, seriously," Bucky said, "anyone's got questions, I'll give 'em their answers, alright?" Kennedy watched him.

"And to think you were heckling Annie and Brady because they were doing the same thing-"

"Kenny." Bucky said giving her a look and she couldn't help but chuckle softly.

"I punch sometimes in my sleep." she muttered.

"You can punch me whenever you need."

"Bucky." He let out a small chuckle.

"C'mon." he said softly, nodding his head towards his bunk. It was at least 10 degrees colder when she pulled from his embrace and they slowly trekked over to his bunk. She glanced at him and his tall form beside her and he nodded her on encouragingly. She pulled herself up into the bunk and rolled to the wall-side before shifting a bit and turning her head towards him, watching as he sat down and settled down inside the bunk beside her. He made a quick move of laying the blanket over them, keeping the few inches between them, very much a present and existing thing.

"Get some sleep, Kenny." Bucky whispered softly this time. She was staring up at the wooden ceiling of the bunk above her again and could feel her heart beginning to race. His body heat next to her was a help - with the wall on her other side. She felt comfortably cocooned in for the first time, knowing if the Germans were to come in, Bucky was right there.

Kennedy slowly shifted her head to the right and looked towards Bucky again and found him wide-awake, staring at the ceiling of the bunk above them, too. She couldn't help it. She rolled onto her side and then shifted closer towards him, causing his eyes to meet hers again.

That silent stare down lasted for a solid minute, before she pressed her body up against his side and wrapped her arms around herself before pressing her face against his arm and letting out a sigh, his warmth infiltrating her body and making her feel at peace for once.

And to say it didn't take long for his own arm to lift up and pull her closer, as she quickly snuggled in at his presence wrapped around her body, his touch firm, but gentle, was an understatement.

"Someone likes to cuddle." he whispered to her. She grinned against his ribcage, before sniffling.

"Shut up." she whispered back. He chuckled back.

She could finally breathe.

[blindmagdalena]

really obsessed with soulmate au’s recently and it got me thinking… what if john’s soulmate was part of the boys? a girl trying to kill him with an entire group of people also trying to kill him… and he’s fated to her? could picture him finding out and just putting his hands on his hips while turning his back to her and doing that click chuckle thing. just in utter disbelief but it is definitely on track for fate’s little play with him and his life lolol

Oohhh, you know, I've never played much with the soulmate au concept, but this struck me just right because I can so clearly see the slow, building meltdown that strikes him when that reveal drops.

The mirthless laugh, shaking his head, the hapless gesture to the ceiling before his hands drop. "Of course. Of course it's you. Why wouldn't it be? I mean—Christ, it makes sense, doesn't it? Every single person who was supposed to love me has-has fucked it, so why—" he keeps cutting into this escalating, unsettling laughter. There's nothing funny about it: you're sure that you're watching someone lose the last shred of their sanity in real time. "Why would my 'soulmate'-", he says, miming big, dramatic quotation marks. "-be any different?" That manic grin has shifted into tight baring of his teeth, a vicious sneer. He closes in on you, stands so near you can feel the heat of his breath when he hisses, "I should put you in the fucking dirt with the rest of them."

It should be terrifying, but it's hard to focus on anything other than the glassiness of his eyes. The sheer devastating heartbreak of it all, telegraphed clear as day in the way he carries himself. His eyes flare red, sizzling up the tears before they can fall. "And then you really will be all alone," you say. Maybe it's the hopelessness of the moment, maybe it's the shock of learning for yourself that he's supposed to be your one and only, but you feel numb. Frayed in a way you didn't know you could be. The crimson light of his eyes disappears in an instant, revealing surprise, followed by a wounded kind of look, before that familiar seething rage returns. "We'll see about that."

[cherryys]

i judge you based on your takes on yuuji and megumi