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arionawrites · 3 months

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arionawrites updated writeblr intro

who the hell am i?

my name is ariona! i also go by ari (common nickname), rio (occasional nickname), and whatever the hell else people wanna call me (within reason). fun fact, my childhood nickname was bird because when i started talking i apparently sounded like a parrot (:

i’m in my mid-twenties (23 as of posting this; turning 24 in march!) and i have been writing since i was in the second grade, or about 7-8 years old. i’ve wanted to be a published author since the fourth grade (10 years old). i have yet to achieve that “published” thing, but i’m working towards it every day and am hoping to have something published somewhere by the time i’m 25 (or while i’m 25, i’m not too picky lol)

i’m a chronically ill lesbian who tries to include type one diabetic characters in everything i write and almost exclusively write queer characters.

i currently work in before and after school childcare, though i am in the process of finding a new job that provides me better stability as well as the time to be able to focus on my writing more. my hope is some kind of office job, or, even better, something in a library!

what kind of things do i write?

it honestly depends on the vibes, man. i’m happy to write (almost) every genre so long as i have a story idea that fits it that i want to write. however, i do have some common things that i tend to write more often than the rest, such as:

queer romance (usually the romance part is not the primary focus, though i do have a sapphic romance novel in the works)

modern fantasy

coming of age

found family

complex and complicated family dynamics

i also have a tendency to post weird little ramble-y thought pieces in random points in time (would it count as poetry? i honestly don’t know). if you’re interested to seeing any of it, my writing tag is #ariwrites !! i’ll add the tag to this post as well for convenience sake!

what projects do i currently have?

so, here’s the thing: i struggle with completing things and tend to have a bunch of new ideas and kind of leave old ideas in the dust. because of this, i’ve decided to take almost all of my current projects and scrap them? actually, scrap isn’t the right word - i’m starting from scratch with a majority of them! i think there are some ideas that i can actually combine into one story rather than them being separate, and a lot of it is just a kind of conglomerated mess that i am in the process of detangling in order to move forward in a more coherent and structured way. however, i do have two projects that i am not starting from complete scratch. i am remaking the outlines for these two stories, though, and then rewriting them from the beginning!

here are those two projects:

rotten

a zombie apocalypse scenario that i originally started writing as a nanowrimo project in 2022 that i did not complete. matter of fact, i only got a couple of chapters in before the spark fizzled out. however, i love the characters i have created and the bones of the story i had in mind, which is why i am choosing to restructure the outline and try again. it will likely change quite a bit as i remake the outline and iron out the details in new ways, but the basic breakdown of the story is this: it’s three years into an apocalypse that has left a mere remnant of humanity in its wake. we have a cast of four main characters (maybe six, depending on how you look at it). one is an older brother taking care of his siblings, both of whom have yet to reach double digits in age. one is a grumpy pessimist who thinks it’s pointless building bonds when everyone else she knew before is almost definitely dead and anyone else she meets will end up dead, too. one is a former optimist who has been weighed down by the realism the apocalypse has forced upon him, who hates being alone (being lonely) but has been betrayed by every single person he has come across since the fight to survive began, and he doesn’t really know what to do about that anymore. one was raised privileged and pampered by a paranoid and eccentric millionaire who was also absolutely certain that doomsday was inevitable (hey, turns out he was right!) and therefore raised his daughter teaching her every survival skill he could and preparing her for the worst, so she is, realistically, the best person to have on your side in an apocalypse—and yet she has been alone the entirety of the three years. all of them are queer and all of them will have to learn that they can rely on one another after stumbling into each other’s lives. also, despite only one of them being the older brother of those kids, the other three will eventually come to an agreement that they would burn the rest of what’s left of the world if it meant keeping them warm, so that’s cool, i guess.

hot chocolate

this is the sapphic romance novel i mentioned above! started writing it on a whim with literally zero plan for it last year, made it my camp nano project, and somehow managed to hit 30k words before the lack of preparation caught up with me. the title is a working title and might change upon the rewrite, but i absolutely adore this story so far and am very excited to get an outline busted out so that i can get back to writing it. the breakdown is this: mallory james moves in with her big brother when she’s eighteen. it’s the summer after her graduation and every single plan that she had for her future has been rendered pointless and now she’s trying to find her footing in a life that is completely different from the one she had been living only a few months ago. her brother, eddie, is going to do his best to be there for her and help her heal, but mallory doesn’t want to heal. she doesn’t even want to acknowledge that there’s anything she needs to heal from. unsure of what to do next, she enrolls in the local community college and meets a few people who somehow manage to become her kinda sorta friends — ellie, ash, and bee. featuring sapphic love, healing from loss and family trauma, finding stability and reason in an unexpected place, and a side character who is definitely polyamorous but entirely unaware that that’s a thing he’s able to be.

alright, i think that’s all i want to put here! i’ll definitely edit this with updates as information changes and as old projects become new again and things like that, but it’s a new year (the fact that i’m posting this in february is absolutely not important at all) and i’m trying to make ‘24 something worthwhile. if you’ve read this far, thank you so much and i hope everyone is having an incredible day/night !!

#writeblr #writblr #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #writeblr introduction #writeblr intro #aritalks #ariwrites #lowkey not the biggest fact of the way i formatted this but i’m too lazy to remake it rn so i’ll leave it as is for now and redo it later

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moontheoretist · 3 years

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You know. I have this unique approach to “Tony was selling weapons” issue in which I know it was a legal business and in America it was basically seen as a-ok thing to do, because military propaganda is strong and Tony was basically raised not only in that propaganda, but also in a family which fortune was build on selling those very weapons. On the other hand, I also know that regardless of how legal it is, it was also a war profiteering business which destroyed lives. And on a third hand, because to me Tony is coded as an autistic person with ADHD, I can see how he had issues for so many years to see that the system is broken and cannot be trusted.

Let me explain.

You may call it an excuse or projecting, but when I was younger, I couldn’t process that things I was taught about at school don’t actually work as the textbook claims it does in real life. Meaning that when a paper page in my school book said or a teacher said or someone from my family or anybody who was an authority to me said that democracy is the best system ever and has no flaws, I did believe it and never questioned it. To start questioning it, I needed an outside force to knock the idea that the system is indeed broken into my brain, hard. It’s really hard to accept that the world around you doesn’t work the way you thought it was working on paper, and therefore we as humans tend to delude ourselves that if we cannot see it happen, then it doesn’t exist (though in my case the delusion wasn’t even conscious enough that I could say I was deluding myself, I just was unable to see any issues till they were shoved in my face). So only when we see, and sometimes personally feel that happen to us, we are finally able to let go of that delusion and open our eyes.

Press Reporter #1: Mr. Stark, what happened over there?

Stark: I had my eyes opened.

So to me, the whole Afghanistan incident is this to Tony. To me, it feels logical that he would not be able to compute that weapons are bad and selling them is bad if he was all his life taught that weapons are good and that he helps people by selling them until he was personally smacked with them in the face, because sometimes people saying things to your face (like media, specifically Christine Everheart definitely were doing) is not enough to truly realize something (I also think that Howard and Stane taught Tony how to ignore all the media and what they say to him when he was groomed as SI’s heir, so it didn’t have that much of an effect on him before Afghanistan as it does after it), and you need that smack instead.

It’s a very strong incentive which shakes your whole world, and it is strong enough to make our stubborn autistic brains (mine and Tony’s, I don’t want to insinuate that all autistic people have this issue) to start questioning the status quo.

So, when Tony gets hit by his own weapon and feels on his own skin what it does, sees terrorists use his weapons to target American military (young soldiers who were there mostly because American system is broken and exploits the young, so they would join) and kill them, then has to live with a shrapnel in the cave, learns that Ho Yinsen’s family was also killed by his own weapons, and then when he is free again and continues to live with the shrapnel and sees innocent people in Middle East losing loved ones, it finally starts to compute that weapons are bad, that everything he did till now was bad, that he is the one responsible for this suffering and that his weapons shouldn’t be given to people who cannot be trusted with them (i.e. his own company, America and American military).

It is also in character for him to assume, that if he is the one whose eyes were opened, he should be the one using his own weapons (i.e. Iron Man, which doubles for prostetic too) for good, though it was not his first thought (you remember when he went to Air Force base to talk to Rhodey? It is possible he wanted Rhodey to be his Iron Man pilot instead and when he was rejected and saw that Rhodey believes in the system he doesn’t, he had to take it upon himself, because in his head he was the only one who saw it was wrong).

I think that if Wanda was actually done right (meaning that if Joss Whedon was not antislavic piece of shit and her trauma and suffering were properly represented in AoU instead of being sold as just a low bar villain motivation), the thing which happened to her family when Tony was already a CEO and probably approved of selling the weapons to the military shortly before or long before NATO used them in Yugoslavia to bomb tons of civilians (I am of the mind that military could use the weapons they bought from Tony’s company long ago, and that it didn’t have to specifically be a new contract crafted just to deal with the Slobodan Milošević issue), it would only reinforce the idea that weapons are bad in Tony’s head.

I think that as much as he is not to blame for Wanda’s parents deaths, because he didn’t fire those weapons himself (and possibly was not even that much interested in the conflicts abroad the American army used his weapons for, because he assumed they will use them responsibly, only against enemy soldiers and will not use them on civilians - this is an error born from assuming that war is just and only happens on the battlefield, while a lot of countries since I dunno even how long literally doesn’t adhere to the rules of war (that you can only fight on battlefields with no civilians in sight) and fights wherever they want, not caring about civilians and sometimes even purposefully drop weapons on them like NATO did in Yugoslavia, committing war crimes left and right, making war unjust), I think he bears some responsibility for what happened and has a right to feel guilty over the deaths which happened due to those bombings.

And later on, when he finally switches and does mostly defensive stuff, like making a technology which can remove mines from minefields without any of them exploding, or when he makes his company pursue clean energy instead, and he joins the Avengers, because he truly believes they are good for the world, he is again smacked in the face by the fact that something in which he believed was not good, that it was doing more harm than good. That’s why, in my opinion, he reacted to Mrs. Spencer’s accusations. Because he again let himself believe in something indiscriminately, without doubt, and was again smacked in the face with facts. And the facts were that Avengers were not operating well, and their recklessness and half-cooked last minute plans were the reason why more people died than it would if they actually worked well as superheroes.

To a lot of people, it looks like Tony is motivated by personal hurt and guilt. But to me, it always looks like him being violently shaken into acknowledging reality of something he thought was flawless.

#mcu #tony stark #tony stark defense squad #autistic tony stark #adhd tony stark #op is using their life experience to understand character's pov #op is autistic #op has adhd

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characteroulette · 3 years

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okay okay okay okay

now that I’ve finished DGS1 and can think of nothing else, let me elabourate on what I’ve been ranting about to Verse and my sister (thanks for putting up with me hahaha)

(spoilers for all of DGS1 by the by we going HARD)

So the overarching theme of DGS1 is Trust. How it’s built up, who deserves it, how to extend your hand to those who may not deserve it, and how to build it back up when it’s been broken. Each case builds on this as Ryuunosuke goes on his journey and I think it’s handled really, really well

Case 1, Asougi teaches you the basics of Trust. He tells you that he will trust you and follow you until the end. Twice, right at the beginning of the trial, he tells you that your actions are betraying his trust, even though Ryuunosuke thinks he’s doing it to spare his friend the pain.

(like, seriously, Asougi pretty much says “How sad. You don’t trust that I actually believe in you.” and then “You would throw that trust right back in my face by just accepting a Guilty verdict, huh?” it’s really explicit) (which is probs the only reason why I noticed it hahaha)

But as the trial goes on, Asougi’s unwavering belief in Ryuunosuke helps our protag boy believe in himself. And he trusts Asougi easily due to their close friendship, but you see the shift from “there’s no way I’m gonna be able to prove my innocence” to “I can’t do anything except prove my innocence” as the trial goes on, just because Asougi never stops believing in Ryuunosuke.

And then Case 2 hits and you have to learn to trust others who might seem like enemies at first. This chapter’s mostly for Susato’s growth, because she starts off absolutely not trusting you, but as you hang out and investigate together she just naturally slots into your little sister role and, before she even realises it, she’s trusting Ryuunosuke and working hard to help him prove his innocence. She admits in the end that she should never have doubted you, but you can tell this experience made a deep impression on her, as her trust in Ryuunosuke never wavers and I think that’s beautiful. ;w;

Next is Hosonaga! An odd addition, but he places his trust in Ryuunosuke pretty immediately and easily, showing just how much of an impact Asougi and Ryuunosuke’s relationship made on him during Case 1. The fact that he places any trust in Ryuunosuke at all is enough to bolster Ryuunosuke’s resolve, since Ryuunosuke needed to not be so alone while grieving for his best friend’s death on top of having to prove his innocence. (The whole of DGS1 handles grief really well, I think also, but that’s another essay I’ll have to write.)

And then the disaster man himself, Sherlock. (/Herlock) He’s the reason why Ryuunosuke’s been arrested again and it’s very, very hard to trust this man. I think they did a really good job of making his personality abrasive enough to be just exasperating enough that you can’t take him seriously, but also for you to feel fondness towards his dumb ass. (The perfect AA balance, honestly.) Sherlock is a hard nut to crack, appearing as if he never truly suspected you of any wrongdoing to begin with (it’s his whimsical nature that does it), but you really get a sense of how easily he builds up a rapport with Ryuunosuke from their first whole conversation.

Once you engage in your first Dance of Deduction with Sherlock, that’s it. You’re his friend now. And he basically is just treating you as such from then on, no hesitations on letting you out of your shackles and mischievously putting you right back in them once you’ve finished. Sherlock has seen your character and trusts you, even if he won’t say so outright.

(That one line really hits me, where he basically admits that he was treating this as a game and not fully realising how deeply the whole event has hit Ryuunosuke and Susato. Asougi was their friend, and his admitting that all of his mischief and jokes weren’t ever quite appropriate, given the circumstances, is touching and the actual moment, I think, where Ryuunosuke starts placing his trust in Sherlock in return.)

Case 3 is the big one. Ryuunosuke is sent to defend a man whom he’s not even sure is innocent. The trial goes along and you, the player, can do nothing even if you know what’s really happening. All you can do is trust that Ryuunosuke can handle things and it’s a huge, HUGE step for them to take to have your client mislead you like this. And so successfully!

But the damage is done and Ryuunosuke’s trust in his resolve, his friend’s belief, is broken. Not shattered, thankfully, but broken enough to make Ryuunosuke hesitant to place his trust in anyone again.

Unfortunately, Case 4 comes barrelling out the gate and you’re called upon to place your trust in someone yet again. Ryuunosuke is clearly not ready for it, his narration makes it clear, but you as the player ask Ryuunosuke to trust in you. He goes along and investigates despite being unsure, which as Susato points out (I think it was Susato), he’d made his mind up long before actually taking on the case.

This is also! Where we get to see that, despite all the airs and pretences Barok van Zieks puts on, he’s willing to place more trust in Ryuunosuke than he rightly should. Once Ryuunosuke has the truth in his sights, Van Zieks allows him to continue on his fancies. Van Zieks willingly engages him in discussions and helps iron out all the logic along the way. And though Ryuunosuke doesn’t realise it fully himself, he also starts to trust Van Zieks in return, thinking of him not as an opponent so much as a colleague. Maybe even a friend.

(All I can say is that it’s 1-3 Edgeworth all over again and I LIVE for this shit owo)

Since the truth is secured, along with your client’s innocence, Ryuunosuke’s willingness to trust has been mended somewhat. So we next turn to our client of Case 5, who needs to learn the same lesson after similar events have broken her ability to trust. Gina makes for an interesting parallel to Ryuunosuke in this regard, since they experience a whole slew of terrible events that test their ability to trust. The difference is simply that Ryuunosuke was willing to have friends, to keep trusting others, whereas Gina refused to have friends or place any trust in others even though she desperately wanted to.

That conversation she, Susato, and Ryuunosuke have about it at her cell is really good. The one they have during their night together at Sherlock’s attic is great, too! Iris admitting that she does have her own doubts and Gina, through no benefit of her own, going to confirm on Iris’ behalf because maybe this Sherlock person could be trustworthy after all. Ryuunosuke admitting that he had doubts about Asougi’s trust in him, but as the trial progressed, finding that it was an unwavering belief that Asougi placed in him and how it stopped even being a question in his mind.

Because, to place your trust in someone else, you must first trust yourself.

(shit I forgot to mention) This is a big breaking point for Susato, too! Because she loses her trust in the Law after both Case 3 and Case 4. She’s seen what the London courts will do and realises that, if others are going to play dirty, then it might be better to engage right back. But her unwavering faith in Ryuunosuke helps her realise that what she’s done is wrong and, though her faith in the legal system has taken a big hit, she knows that Ryuunosuke won’t give up the fight. Ryuunosuke will do everything he can to help his clients and she believes in him whole-heartedly.

And Van Zieks sees this, too! He sees this fierce dragon before him, fighting even the government of Britain to protect his client, and thinks to himself, “This is exactly what our system has been needing.” And he joins in the fight! The police hold no authority in the courts; to Van Zieks, it is just him and Ryuunosuke, figuring out the whole truth, no matter how painful it may be.

And Ryuunosuke takes this trust with him all the way through, even getting his permission to participate in trials revoked in order to save Gina.

And that’s why Ryuunosuke is probably the greatest lawyer next to Apollo in the whole series thanks for coming to my essay talk

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yandere--stuck · 4 years

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Yandere!Springtrap x Reader Headcanons

💛 You had always been interested in animatronics, ever since you were young. Ironically, it had started with your visits to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria as a child. In spite of all the urban legends and rumors attached to the franchise, you only had fond memories of the place, especially the animatronics. You couldn't recall what your original favorite of the bunch were, but as you got older, your interest turned more toward the original animatronics from the older establishments. And that's why you had been so excited about the new Fazbear Frights attraction! If the forums were right, the people running it had actually gotten their hands on one of the originals! Either Fredbear or SpringBonnie for sure! You couldn't wait to see it…!

🐇 … But, then the attraction burned down before it had even opened. And now here you were, sneaking under police lines to see if there was still a chance you could see it, to capture at least one piece of your childhood again - hell, maybe you could even salvage some merch, or maybe even a part of the animatronic!... If it hadn't been completely lost in the fire. You skilled around the building, brushing against the charred remains of the building, suddenly regretting all of your life choices, when you spot it - nearly making you jump as you spotted a slumped over figure just out of periphery. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears as your vision adjusts. Your mouth drops open - you can't believe it. It's him! It's him!!! SpringBonnie! God, maybe even the original SpringBonnie! You immediately rush over to the animatronic, smile beaming, kneeling down to look over the bot. He's busted up, broken, burnt (and, God, it reeked, too), but was still somehow all in one piece, and in pretty good condition for something that survived a fire! Glancing to the side of the building, it looked as though there was once a window there - as though something had pushed the SpringBonnie out. Perhaps to save it? Recovering from the adrenaline pumping through you, you shrugged and began dragging the bot back to your car. You'd always wanted one of them, but never had enough money to buy one off one of those auction sites! And… You swear you hear breathing besides your own as you drag the poor bot, but try your best to write it off as your imagination.

💛 And you certainly had not expected to wake up face-to-face with a large rabbit animatronic that was practically falling apart at the scenes. Because it shouldn't be able to stand or walk or - or stare into you with big, sad eyes and croak out, "Help…" You screamed and shot out of bed, trying to press yourself against the wall opposite to it, too afraid to consider running for the door or taking your eyes off the machine. The SpringBonnie turned slowly, seemingly groaning in pain, reaching out for you, but didn't move from his spot. Slowly, he managed to calm you, promising he wouldn't hurt you, soothing you enough to hear his story. Apparently, he had been someone who had worked at one of the Fazbear Establishments. The poor dear had almost been killed - beaten and stabbed and forcibly stuffed into one of the SpringBonnie suits, with the springlocks having gone off, sealing him inside the suit. It was a miracle the poor thing was even alive. You immediately started to pull out your phone, but he stopped you - he had spent so long inside the suit that he had forgotten so much of who he was before, and a bit of his mind had picked up some of the AI within the robot. He was no longer the man he used to be, so there wasn't much any hospital or authorities could do for him.

🐇 Even as you tried to care for "Springtrap" (as he called himself), you still asked if he was sure he didn't want to see a hospital or somewhere that could help him, but he refused. Springtrap admitted, trembling (probably out of both pain and fear) that he'd be thought a monster, or killed, or even worse, his would-be killer would find out and return to finish the job. Of course, he was terrified - you would be, too, in his situation. So, you figured if he couldn't be convinced to go now, you could somehow manage to change his mind later. For now, you chose to focus on cleaning him up and making him comfortable. Apparently, he couldn't expose the suit to water, so you made the best of the limitations you had and made sure to be careful of the springlocks, cleaning him carefully (and trying not to gag as you saw the exposed muscle and flesh beneath). The final product was a big improvement, and it must have made Springtrap happy to be some semblance of clean. You helped him to the couch and made sure he was comfortable - and together, you talked for hours, about what had happened to Springtrap, who you were and what you had been doing upon finding him, everything Springtrap had missed over the years…

💛 You had originally considered eventually convincing Springtrap to go somewhere for professional help, but… God, he just got so scared whenever something like that came up in conversation… But, it was also out of selfishness. You couldn't help but kick yourself for it, but you had grown attached to Springtrap. You didn't want him to leave. It had been so lonely before you found him, but now you had someone who genuinely appreciated you and your company, who liked being around you, loved it actually, who you found you could talk to about anything. It made you feel so guilty, especially as you felt your feelings becoming more and more… Romantic. So you tried your best to make up for it, making him a special meal (turns out he somehow doesn't need to, or can't, eat), getting him the softest and fluffiest pillows to rest on, being there for him, practically coming at his beck and call, buying him painkillers so that he can feel something besides pain. You just felt like you needed to make it up somehow, even if Springtrap said you had done more than enough.

🐇 One night, you had finally confessed to him. William - though, he had gotten used to being called "Springtrap", he loved the way it rolled off your tongue - had been laying against you, head resting against your stomach. Oh, poor darling, you had been so guilty and conflicted - and Springtrap relished in it, grinning darkly under his mask. And he confesses back, of course. How could he not fall for you? His little hero, his savior. So sweet, so kind, so trusting. So loving. He had learned to love from you… But, he was still William Afton. He could not share, and he loved being in control. He hadn't even felt this way with his own wife. You were special. You were his. All his! So, he lies. He says he was a poor victim of some serial killer (Ha! If you had any idea just how wrong that was…), matching up with the rumors surrounding Fazbear Entertainment. Saying that he had lost his memory had added additional pity, and part of him thought he had gone too far with the whole "part of me has become one with animatronic" thing, but you were just so adorably naive and ate it right up! It was truly precious. You were lucky you had found him, he'd take care of anyone who tried to manipulate you… Well, besides himself, of course. It was so easy to make you feel obligated to help him, to feel like you were inherently selfish… To make you love him, to love him like he loved you. And he does, and he told you as such. He struggled to pick himself up and press the snout of his mask against your lips, nuzzling against you. Oh, how he loved you so… Underneath his mask, William chuckles as he thinks to himself, That was easier than I thought it would be.

#yandere x reader #fnaf x reader #yandere fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf 3 #fnaf 3 springtrap #springtrap x reader #william afton #yandere five nights at freddy's #william afton x reader #yandere hcs #yandere headcanons #spring trap #spring bonnie #five nights at freddy's 3 #yandere #long post

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thran-duils · 3 years

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Lost In Zero Gravity (P.8)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Eight) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers. Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 2,685 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior

Author’s Note: **MUCH ANGST**

Part Seven || Part Nine || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Instead of going to his office, Tony marched straight to Steve’s without so much as a fleeting greeting for anyone who he passed on the way. He barged in and closed the door loudly behind him.

Steve looked up from his laptop, pausing for a moment. He saw the look on Tony’s face, “Something wrong?”

Stopping in front of his desk, Tony glowered down at him. “I don’t know. You tell me after I tell you about the interesting question Y/N had for me today.”

“What was that?” Steve asked, looking back at his laptop, clicking away on the keyboard. He seemed to relax when he heard it was about Y/N.

“She asked who Cecile was,” Tony stated. Steve stopped then, his fingers hovering over the keys, suddenly interested again. Tony gave a wry chuckle. “Oh, that got your attention, did it? You suddenly give a shit now, don’t you?”

Steve’s hands left his keyboard, his face screwed up in confusion. “How did she—”

“You slipped up,” Tony pointed at him accusingly, running his tongue over his bottom lip. He came to sit in the chair across from Steve’s desk, sitting back, staring at him. “You called her Cecile in bed.” Steve looked like he had been slapped. “Do you have no recollection of this?”

“No,” Steve admitted reluctantly.

“Hmm… well, it apparently happened.”

“Did you—”

“No. No, I didn’t tell her,” Tony interrupted forcibly. “I left her at the apartment. She’s busy with the cat.” Tony exhaled sharply, running his hand over his face, distressed. “Did… did I not tell you to keep your marriage shit out of it? Didn’t I?” Steve threw his hands out and started to defend himself and Tony pressed on, “I did! I distinctly remember it! I know things are not great right now with her but if you can’t keep a lid on it, what are we even doing messing around? And yeah, I say we because I’m tied in with this if you haven’t noticed!”

Steve clicked his jaw, pushing back from his desk, hands planted on the arms of his chair, silent.

As the silence stretched on, Tony relented in his anger slightly. His voice was less harsh, “I mean, come on, man. That’s a rookie mistake.”

“We’re trying to work on it,” Steve finally said. His voice was sad when he said, “I haven’t told you she’s pregnant.” That piqued Tony’s interest. “Yeah. A couple months along.” He gave a humorless laugh and said, “But you know the bitch of it is I don’t know if it’s mine. Or… if it’s that… little fuck.”

“I’m not sure what she sees in him,” Tony offered up, trying to be comforting.

“She’s always had a thing for younger guys. Plus, he doesn’t come with all the strings of marriage,” Steve said sourly.

“What are you going to do?”

“What can I do other than let it play out and then get a DNA test?”

“And… if it’s not yours?”

Steve sighed loudly, throwing his hands out again. He looked defeated. “I don’t know, Tony. I… I don’t want to divorce her. There’s still something to salvage, I know it. And I’m not gonna kick her ass to the curb.”

“I didn’t expect you to.”

“I just… I’m trying to take it day by day. I’m sorry I fucked up with Y/N. I really don’t even remember it. I was high as hell the last time we had sex. It must have just… slipped out,” Steve said. He chewed on his bottom lip, staring off into nothing, Tony silent as well. When Steve looked back at him he said, “I’ll do better.”

Tony apologized immediately, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to just come in here and ream you. I mean, I did. But I should have asked first.”

“I haven’t been exactly forthcoming about it.”

“No, no you haven’t. You could do better at that too.”

Steve nodded in agreement and asked seriously, his hand running over his beard, “Y/N was really bothered by it?”

“I don’t think so. She brushed it off when she saw my reaction to the question. I think she was just curious more than anything. It was an innocent question I think.”

“Well, it won’t happen again,” Steve said firmly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

<><><>

Something was tugging on the other end of the lights that you were trying to hang up. You already knew who it was, and you turned, scolding immediately, “Luna!”

Luna was batting at the end of the orange Halloween lights and when you said her name, she immediately stopped, booking it away towards the couch. She got up on it and sat down, her tail swishing.

“Don’t glare at me! You’re the one being naughty! You have so many damn toys and you are trying to sabotage me!”

She laid down then, turning away from you. Rolling your eyes, you resumed decorating. You loved that cat but you also wanted to strangle her sometimes.

In the middle of hanging up little bats, you heard the key in the lock. You stilled, seeing Steve walk into the apartment. He was carrying a small bag and his eyes ran over the living room seeing all the decorations you had hung up. A small smirk appeared on his face as he closed the door behind him, locking it.

“What?” you asked.

“Looks like you’re going all out. Halloween isn’t until next month.”

“It’s September 30th,” you pointed out. “Who decorates for a holiday days beforehand?”

“Touche, ma’am,” Steve joked coming over towards you. He stopped to reach out and scratch Luna behind the ears.

“Can you put some up higher?” you asked him, gesturing to continue the swarm of bats you had put on the wall.

Steve placed the bag down and came over to you, taking the rest of the small stack of them. You rolled the tape handing each piece to him and he worked in tandem to place them on the wall, continuing your pattern.

“I’ve almost finished my 31 days of Halloween list too,” you told him.

He cocked an eyebrow and asked, “And what exactly is that?”

“You must never have fun,” you jested, handing him another piece of rolled tape. “It’s a list of horror or Halloween related movies for every day in October. I’ll send you guys the list so you can plan visits around it because I will not be missing a day. And if you don’t like a movie, well, then just don’t come on that day.”

“Wowww,” Steve drew out, chuckling.

Shrugging, you told him, “I’m serious. One hundred percent.”

He still laughed as he finished putting up the last couple bats. “Noted, dear.”

Stepping back, you nodded in approval at the wall. “It looks good. That was the last part! I can’t wait to see all the lights I hung up at nighttime! It’ll set a really nice ambience.”

“I can see that,” Steve responded, looking around at all the strings of lights. He looked amused by the sight of it. His eyes met yours again and he said, “Way to be festive.”

“Always. Just wait until Christmas.”

That drew a laugh out of him and then he said, “I did come here for a reason though.”

Moving past you, Steve went for the bag and picked it up, holding it out to you.

“What’s this?” you asked him, taking it from him cautiously.

“A gift,” Steve told you.

“Christmas isn’t for months.”

Steve chuckled, “Consider it an early one.”

You opened it, taking out a small box. Upon opening the box, you found a key and realized immediately what it was. It was the key to the apartment. Only took them a month and a half.

“Trust me enough now, I suspect,” you commented, looking up at him.

Steve nodded, “That was the stipulation wasn’t it?”

“Sure was…” you said, trailing off. You walked past him with the box and went to the door to grab your keyring that was hanging there. You slipped the key onto it and replaced it. Turning back, you said, “Glad I was impressive enough to earn it.”

Steve came up to you, a tickled look on his face at your wisecrack. He leaned down, kissing you on the forehead.

“Good job.”

“Thanks,” you returned. “Tony too busy to be here for the ceremony?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Well, you get some brownie points. Speaking of brownies, I did make some. Want one?”

You moved out from around Steve, not waiting for him to answer. You smiled to yourself, your back to him feeling the weight of being locked in one place taken from you now that you had a key. You could not wait to be able to go out without an escort. Freedom was at your fingertips.

<><><>

Tony was gripping your waist and hip tightly as you rode him on your bed. They had come over late in the night and it was early, 4:30am. Steve had gotten out of bed to get showered and clean himself up. Tony had elected to stay in bed and have another go at it, which you were not complaining about. They had not come over for a week having been away on a trip and you had missed them.

You barely heard the door open, thinking it was Steve coming back from the shower. But, you noticed Tony freeze, his eyes drawn to the door, widening alarmingly. His hands tightened dangerously, and you stared down at him confused, stalling.

“No, do—” Tony started to say loudly.

You barely turned your head before someone grabbed your hair, dragging you off of him across the bed. You tumbled to the ground, looking up terrified seeing a dark-haired woman looking wild, her eyes filled with hatred.

“Alessia!” you heard Tony shout from near the bed as the woman dove at you.

Your vision was obstructed by a fist hitting your face. You cried out in pain, trying to curl up into yourself.

“Bitch!” you heard her yell.

Another hit landed but with less force, and you heard her being drug away, her shouting incomprehensively. Nervously, you uncovered your face, shaking like a leaf.

Eyesight clearing, you saw Tony dragging her away.

“Alessia!” He shouted again as she fought ferociously against his iron grip around her arms, his hands locked together against her chest.

“You fucking absolute bastard!” she shrieked, trying to get away from his grasp. “Is this where you were last Monday night? You missed your daughter’s preschool Thanksgiving play to fuck a whore? And one of the first things you do when you get back from a week long trip is come here? Let me go! Let me GO, Tony! Get your fucking hands off of me!”

She tore away from his grip when he loosened up and shoved him into the doorway, before slapping him with all the force she could muster across the face. Tony ate the hit, turning back with his jaw clenched but he did little to respond beyond glaring daggers at her.

Steve was there outside in the hall looking stricken, his hair wet from his shower but dressed. Aleissa let out a disgusted laugh seeing him.

“You too?” she spat at him. She pointed dangerously at him and said, “You both can fucking rot for all I care! Cecelia will fucking know about this, you piece of shit!”

Alessia’s rage was directed towards Tony again as she spat, “I can put up with the running around on me because god knows I’m not a saint. But you cannot start neglecting your family! I won’t fucking put up with it!”

She took off down the hall and Tony swore loudly, turning back to the room going towards the ground for his pants. His eyes ran around the room, discombobulated. His eyes landed on you and his mouth fell open, like he wanted to say something, but he could not form the words.

“Go! I got it!” Steve exclaimed at Tony quickly, gesturing him out the door.

Tony only hesitated for a moment before throwing his pants on and taking off out of the room after her.

Steve came to you quickly, his fingers brushing your cheek. You winced and he retracted his hand. “Fuck,” he hissed.

“What the hell?” you demanded, tears spilling over. The shock was wearing off, you feeling the pain in your jaw and cheek now.

Steve sighed heavily, telling you in explanation, “The wife.”

Terrence was in the doorway then and Steve grabbed the throw blanket from the end of the bed, tossing it around you to cover you.

“What the fuck?” Steve shouted at Terrence, over his shoulder as he tucked the blanket around you. “Why did you let her in here?”

“She had a goddamn gun pointed at me, boss! I didn’t want to cause a scene!”

“You don’t think this a scene?” Steve exclaimed, gesturing wildly at you.

“I meant in the hall. And I also didn’t wanna get shot! She’s psychotic!”

“Get the fuck out,” Steve snapped at him. “Go get Tony. Alessia is probably causing another scene down in the lobby and I don’t trust Tony and Daryl to be able to handle it by themselves! Especially with Tony half fucking dressed.”

Terrence did as he was ordered.

“Come on. Come up here,” Steve encouraged you, helping you stand and sitting you on the edge of the bed. He was trying to be calm, but you could pick up on the edge in his voice. “Sit tight.”

He left the room too. You sat on the bed, grasping the blanket tightly around you. Your breath was shuddering, trying to process what had just happened. Steve came back with a towel. Sitting on the bed next to you, he raised it and pressed it to your jaw softly. You realized he had put some ice cubes in the towel tied off with a rubber band to make a makeshift ice pack.

You should not need an ice pack because you got punched in the face, you thought, your shock of the situation melting away to anger.

You jerked away from him and he gave you a confused look. Tears came again then and you took the ice pack from him.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Steve said sincerely. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“You know where this wouldn’t have happened? Back home!” you spat at him, meeting his eyes. His expression hardened and you frankly did not care. “But no, you two forced me to come to this stupid apartment! I would’ve been safe back at the brothel!”

“Now, Y/N—” Steve started to say, sounding very much like he was going to try to talk you down, but you cut him off.

“No! You know I’m right!”

“Y/N—”

“Just get out!” you shouted at him, losing your temper. Steve was staring at you in disbelief, and he was not moving. You repeated with more force, standing up in a fury, holding the blanket tightly around you. “Leave me be! Get out!” You tossed the icepack onto your bedside table. You dove for Tony’s clothes, wallet, and his cell phone, storming towards the door and tossing them out into the hallway. You could not lock them completely out of the apartment since they had keys but goddamnit you were going to have your space in your bedroom.

You whipped back around to find Steve still sitting on the bed, stunned. You were openly crying now, and you hysterically told him, pointing out the door, “Are you fucking deaf, Steve? Get the hell out! I don’t want to fucking see either of you!”

He stood then finally, controlled, masking the shock he had displayed moments before. He walked towards you and the door, his eyes boring into you. You met him with the same ferocious gaze he was giving you as he passed, his eye contact not breaking with yours. As soon as he was clear of the door, you moved, and slammed it close behind him.

The lock fell into place.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark tony stark #dark steve rogers #dark marvel #mob tony stark #mob steve rogers #dark marvel fic #my shit

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reidswritings · 3 years

Text

the three times that it was obvious

word count; 1.9k

warnings; nothing i think-- just fluff (and a lame ending and also probably some spelling errors haha)

authors note; this is like part 2.5 of times they were just too cute so read those is you want, but you dont have to cause it’ll make sense on its own,, anyways, as always, i hope you enjoy! [ part one and part two ]

bonus— times Spencer was just a little too in love with his girl

There was no one he loved more. That was a fact. Another fact was that everyone knew that. No one questioned his love for the Pretty Girl— well, no one except aforementioned Pretty Girl. That was usually on her bad days though, but on all of the other days, she knew it better than he did. There was many times that he proved it to himself— though, not that it was a competition or anything.

It had just been so long since he was able to openly love someone as much as he loved His Girl. Growing up in the closet, he was never able to be open about who he loved— in fear of getting beat up, not that that saved him from any beatings. Then, when he was older, he fell in love with the beauty that was JJ. But she got pregnant and then fell in love with his best friend— Emily Prentiss. Not that he was questioning her taste in women— because Emily was probably the hottest one of the whole BAU Team. There was no competition on that one.

And once he finally got over her, it was on to the beautiful Doctor Maeve Donavan— but that was over before it even began. Damn stalkers, damn unsubs, damn everything that came with the horrible situation.

That one crushed him. Took away his spirit along with his belief in love. Took away his belief in anything that wasn’t himself. Well, maybe even took himself with it too. That was the one that left him with more trauma than he cared to admit.

That was the one that he was afraid that he’d never heal from.

But then there was her. Then, he met the love of his life. Then was the moment he felt his heart begin to stitch itself back together.

The moment the beauty walked through the huge glass doors was the moment he felt like he could breathe again. He was beyond grateful for the Pretty Girl. And he’d spend the rest of his life making it up to her, even if she was never actually his.

Luckily though, the universe owed him one and she was head over heals for the scrawny agent. It didn’t take long for them to find each other, actually it only took a week of knowing each other (and Spencer following her around like a lost puppy), until he asked her out to coffee. He had learned from his mistakes before. He had learned not to wait— he had learned that nothing was guaranteed. Not even the next breath.

He learned to go for what he wanted— even with his fear of rejection, it was better to know.

Spencer Reid was not the best with words— ironic, considering he knew all of the words, even ones in different languages. The one thing he was good at, though, was showing her (and everyone) just how much he loved his Pretty Girl. He wasn’t aware of it at first— he just did the things. It was second nature to him. It was as easy as breathing for him.

The only reason he was fully aware now was because of his lovely friend, Derek Morgan. It was a normal day at the work place— bad guys doing bad things and innocent people dying because of it.

His girl was being sent out to get said bad guys while he was forced to stay back and work on the geological profile (not that he was complaining, he loved doing it). The only down side of loving someone on The Team was watching them run into danger rather than from it.

He never underestimated his girl— he knew she was a badass who could handle her own, but it was still nerve-racking, not knowing if he’d see her again (he was as dramatic as he was genius).

So, with his heart thumping with anxiety, he had kissed her, like it would be their last time, just before she ran from the police station, and said, “We kiss before and we kiss again after, okay?”

She had agreed to this like it was nothing— because it made sense to her. She wanted that last kiss, just in case.

Just in case.

The dark-skinned hunk had witnessed the whole thing. The older man had snorted and muttered under his breath, “Smooth, Reid. Didn’t know you had it in ya.”

Derek never let him live it down. And Spencer let his friend poke fun, because that meant that he got another day with his Pretty Girl— he knew the day that Derek stopped teasing was the day that he no longer got to love Y/N. And that was a day he wasn’t willing to have.

Another time he noticed it was again because of a BAU Team Member. It was yet another long night at the office— paperwork calling their names and sleep calling them even harder, stress headaches creeping into their skulls and necks aching from leaning over desks for so long.

The Genius had watched his Pretty Girl yawn for the umpteenth time and he sighed, leaning back in his uncomfortable chair. It was routine, she’d groan in frustration, yawn, flex her shoulders and then get back to burning the midnight oil. He assumed that she was growing frustrated with the seemingly growing pile of folders on her desk— Spencer had made his way through his stack and was now finishing up his last. Not everyone had his special power of memorization and speed reading.

The young agent stood, cracking a few bones as he did so. Grabbing his now empty coffee mug, he stalked over to his girl’s desk. Upon reaching, he leaned against the large table, cup balancing on his folded leg. Y/N looked up at him, eyes tired and longing to be taken home. Though, she smiled at him and it warmed the boy’s heart.

“Hey,” it was soft, only meant for her. He was smiling too, he was smiling the smile reserved only for Y/N. Emily, who still sat at her desk, looked over and welcomed the break from the gruesome paperwork on top her cluttered desk.

“Hi,” it was no louder than Spencer’s words, but loud enough for Emily to hear.

“You doin’ alright?” Spencer’s head was ducked down towards his girl. One of his large hands was still wrapped around his mug while the other one had found its way to the shoulder of one very tired Y/N. Her head was leaning on his hand, leaving a small kiss. She smiled at him like he was the only person in the world that mattered— and in her small world, he was. “You want me to take some off your plate?”

She sighed, leaning back in her chair now. Emily watched still, smiling. She was happy that the two had finally found happiness away from the horrible world they all had created for themselves. “No, it’s okay. Thank you though, Spence.”

He smiled. She continued, hands holding another empty mug. “You know what you could do, though?”

“Hmm?” The boy raised his eyebrows, mouth shrinking into the smirk that make Y/N weak in the knees.

“Get me more?” She smiled, lips parting to show her teeth. Spencer blushed, ducking his head again. His hand moved to take the mug from her, standing. They had been dating for awhile now, but she still managed to make him breathless. Their fingers brushed and he felt his stomach erupt in excitement— he hoped that feeling never went away. He would give up forever with her just to keep feeling the way he did in that moment.

“Anything for you, my love.” He bent down to her level, a kiss leaving itself behind on her forehead. Their eyes closed, savoring the moment— that is until the loud voice of Emily Prentiss rang out.

“I could use some more, too!” The lovebirds looked over at their mutual friend. She was cheekily smiling, arm hanging in the air, fingers closed around her own empty mug. The Genius Boy straightened up, frown present on his once smiling lips.

“What?” She laughed, red lips still stretched into her characteristic smile that she more often than not wore, “You’re going that way anyways!”

Spencer’s mouth opened to protest—probably— but Emily spoke again. “You’ll get Y/N some, but not me? After all I’ve done for you? My heart hurts.”

The boy snorted, “Yeah? Well, I’m in love with her, not you, Em.”

The last time that proved that Spencer loved his girl more than anything was something that everyone in the office knew of. The lovebirds liked to pretend that it was their little secret, but in reality they both knew it was one shared with most everyone.

It wasn’t a secret that Spencer and Y/N were hopelessly in love with each other— in fact it was very clear to anyone who walked through the BAU doors. Though in love, they were not the biggest fans of PDA. However, Spencer and his Pretty Girl were still very, very, lovey with one another at the workplace.

Of course, that doesn’t mean they were making out against Spencer’s desk or having secret sex in the BAU bathroom— no, it means that they often shared glances from across the bullpen and small touches when the other is getting just a bit too frustrated and knowing smiles every other hour.

It was the little things they did that kept them on their toes— kept them head over heals. It was special to them that they kept up the romance, no matter what was going on in their very hectic lives.

For example, the two very often left small little notes for each other around the BAU. Nothing inappropriate or out of line, it was usually just something that would be sure to make the other smile. And it wasn’t anywhere that was obvious either, it was almost always in a spot that would only be discovered by Y/N or Spencer.

And sometimes, just sometimes, another member of The Team would stumble across the colorful sticky notes stuck to the back of a chair or to the side of one of Spencer’s many, many, books or to the tip of a pen or even on a coffee mug in the cabinet— unfound by The Lovebirds yet. The Aforementioned Team Member would just smile like they were in on some little secret—because they were—and place the note back so it could be found by a Lovesick Agent later.

They were sentimental people, keeping each and every note— which The Team so desperately wanted to poke fun at, but they let them have this. They let them stay in their little bubble just for a little while longer— as long as it made The lovebirds happy, it made The Team happy too.

In fact, once JJ and Emily had stumbled across the small box that held each and every sticky note. They didn’t pry— well, they tried not to, but curiosity got the best of the two girls. They ended up reading each one, and they were so goddamn adorable, they just about cried.

If there was one thing The Team could agree on, it would be that Spencer and Y/N were perfect for each other and that they all would rather die than let anything happen to the two.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer x reader #mgg #matthew gray gubler

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hela-avenger · 4 years

Text

poison & wine- part 19

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1940

Summary: Prince Loki of Asgard is in need of a date to take back home. That’s where you come in with a task of your own to make the whole trip with an insufferable prince worth it. Too bad that things don’t always go as planned and you end up giving more than you can take. Fake-Dating AU.

A/N: So the last update brought the angst and this one makes up for it! Thanks for reading and commenting everyone! Please send me a message if you’ll like to be tagged!

poison & wine masterlist

After a few minutes, Loki was forced to let you go. You had yet to stop crying and he didn’t know what he was meant to do if this continued on. He couldn’t take you back to the palace in this state but he couldn’t stay on the bridge any longer and risk someone finding you like this too.

“Mount my horse,” Loki instructs you as he leads you to the black stallion adorned in his colors. “You’re in no state to ride back on your own so you’ll ride with me.”

“But…” you whisper as your stare turns to the horse you had brought along.

“I’ll send someone to come pick him up,” Loki assures you. “Just get on my horse.”

Loki watches as you climb onto his horse and settle into his saddle. When he’s convinced you won’t do anything brash, which he isn’t entirely convinced at the moment, Loki steps away.

“I’ll be back. Just wait for me.”

You don’t argue when he turns away and leaves you behind. You simply watch as he makes his way into the dome.

“Is the Lady Y/N alright?” Heimdall asks as the prince enters.

“Yes, no thanks to you.”

“I knew you would catch her, your majesty,” Heimdall remarks. “There was no need for me to intervene.”

Loki shakes his head at the guardian knowing that there was no point in arguing further.

“What did you tell her, Heimdall?” Loki asks as he glared up at the All-Seer.

“She wanted to know who her father is,” Heimdall answers. “I reminded her that my loyalty is to the king.”

“Don’t drag this out,” Loki snaps. “She’s deeply upset. What did you tell her?”

Heimdall knows better than to reveal such a secret to the prince. You had come to the truth on your own and the prince would have to do the same.

“I gave her clues to lead her to an altogether different truth,” Heimdall states. “She was smart enough to find it.”

Loki hated when Heimdall spoke in riddles but that was all the All-Seer was going to give him. The only way he would find out would be through you if you allowed him to know.

He turns his back with the intent of heading back to you but Heimdall wasn’t done with him yet.

“This game you’re playing with her at the moment,” Heimdall speaks. “I suggest you put an end to it.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No,” Heimdall answers as his stare shifts to watch something else entirely. “But it can be.”

Loki scoffs and walks away.

He held no fear towards the All-Seer and his attempts of intimidation but he couldn’t help but keep the warning in mind. There must be a reason for it and Loki had every intention in figuring it out.

The ride was silent and slow. Neither of you were willing to be the first to speak and perhaps it all had to do with the distraction of the thoughts revolving in your mind. You had broken down and out of everyone, it was in front of Loki. You didn’t know how to manage that situation. In fact, you didn’t know how you were meant to manage any situation at all.

You were in Asgard, a thousand light years away from your home on Earth, and you had found your answer. The answer being something you already knew. That you were on your own.

“We’re here.”

You frown when you realize that Loki had steered the horse out of the palace path into some unknown forest.

“Where are we?” you ask as Loki leads the horse under the shade of a nearby tree.

“We’re just outside of the city gates,” Loki answers as he dismounts from his horse. “There’s a small river nearby where Thor and I used to play. It’s relatively safe and out of the way that no one ever thinks of coming through here.”

“But why?”

“Your eyes are still red from crying,” Loki points out. “We can go back if you like but I believe you and I would prefer to avoid the royal court's attention on this matter.”

Loki had a point and so you agree on the break. You dismount and the moment you’re off, Loki is quick to whisper something to the horse before sending him off.

“He’ll be back when I call for him,” Loki tells you. “Just sent him out to get a drink.”

You nod at his explanation and allow yourself to relax. You take a deep breath of fresh air and take a seat on the shaded grass. Loki follows suit leaning against the tree.

“Are you going to tell me what you and Heimdall spoke of?”

You let out a sigh knowing you had to.

“I asked him about my father,” you answer as you wrap your arms around your knees to rest your head upon. “Heimdall couldn’t tell me much but the little he managed to give away … well, it was enough for me to come to a big conclusion.”

“Which was?”

“The reason why my father never came back for me and my mother is because he died before he was able to do so,” you can’t help the dark chuckle that escapes you. “My life is not at risk. I was safe all along apparently.”

You’re met with silence which doesn’t surprise you. Loki stares out into the forest in front of you and lets out a sigh.

“I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you tell him. “I found the answer I was looking for. All matters have been put to rest.”

“But…”

“No, there’s no more buts, I just… I just want to move past this.”

“Y/N.”

You look over at Loki who’s watching you with that same concern he had when he caught you from falling to your death.

“What?” you ask.

“I am not the best at managing my emotions but even I know that you can’t simply move past this.”

He was right but you didn’t want to admit that to him. You wanted to be numb and remain numb.

“I don’t want to cry anymore,” you whisper. “I don’t…”

“You don’t what?” Loki asks.

You swallow not wanting to admit what you feared the most.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” you whisper. “But I don’t… I don’t have anyone. There’s no one left.”

“You have friends down in Midgard,” Loki reminds you. “The Man of Iron and the Captain… the Witch and the Widow.”

“I can’t call them my friends when all I do is push them away because I’m afraid of growing attached,” you answer. “You and I both know that I will outlive them all anyway and then I’ll be left on my own once again so what’s the point? My father was the only person I could rely on and it turns out he’s been dead all along.”

“Y/N…”

“People aren’t meant to be alone. We need a community. We need companionship,” you explain. “I thought I could go without but I have been on my own for two centuries and I can’t take it anymore. So what am I meant to do now? What is there left for me to do?”

You lean against the tree in resignation trying to find your own answer to the questions you’ve been asking since you left Heimdall.

“Your father, though he is dead, must have left you a legacy to follow through,” Loki tells you. “All we need to do is find it.”

“Loki…” you sigh out unsure why he was so intent in dragging this out longer.

“Just listen,” he interrupts you. “I looked through the travel records and found nothing.”

“Ok?” you answer confused as to how that mattered. “Maybe someone forgot to write it down.”

“We are precise here in Asgard. Such a thing wouldn’t happen,” Loki explains. “Which leaves a unique conclusion to explain it all.”

“That is…?”

“Your father, whatever his role in court was, must have been very important and private for his travel records to Midgard to be sealed. Only Odin has access to those.”

“But what kind of… That doesn’t make any sense,” you stammer out. “What could he be doing down on Earth that it had to be kept secret?”

“I don’t know,” Loki answers. “If you no longer wish to find your father, I will let the matter rest but I believe you owe it to yourself to know.”

You let out a sigh.

Loki seemed genuinely invested in helping you now. It made you suspicious.

“You’re not trying to convince me because you still need me to fake court you, are you?”

“No,” Loki smiles. “I have a feeling you would regret missing the opportunity to find some real answers. You deserve to know the truth.”

You knew he was right. If you went back to Earth empty-handed, you would regret it for the rest of your life.

“Ok, I’m in,” you tell him. “You get me my answers and I’ll keep fake courting you.”

“It’s a deal,” Loki agrees. “Are you ready to head back?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh out.

Loki stands up and offers his hand for you to take so you do. He pulls you up and surprisingly doesn’t let your hand go.

“I uh…” Loki hesitates for a moment before continuing. “I thought I should let you know that… that you’re not alone.”

“How so?” you ask him.

You couldn’t help the smile that fought its way to your lips. He was suddenly nervous that he couldn’t even meet your eyes anymore.

“You have me,” Loki answers. “I am an immortal with nothing but time in my hands. I can be there for you for as many years as you have left.”

You squeeze his hand in gratitude and he finally meets your stare.

“I would like that,” you tell him. “Thank you.”

Loki nods at your answer and lets go of your hand. He clears his throat and the simple gesture shifts him back to his usual princely self. He turns away from you and whistles causing his horse to trot back to you instantly.

Loki grabs the reigns and motions for you to mount first. Once you’re settled, he climbs up and settles himself behind you.

“We should probably come up with a story as to why we left the palace to visit Heimdall,” you tell Loki as he pulls you back to the palace path.

“Simple, you wanted to check in on your friends in Midgard,” Loki answers. “And if someone asks if you’ve been crying just tell them the truth.”

“My father’s dead?” you ask confused.

“No,” Loki objects quickly. “I was referring to your bridge incident.”

You can’t help but be shocked at the reminder.

“I can’t believe I almost fell off the Bifrost,” you mutter in realization. You look back at him with a laugh. “There should really be some kind of warning sign to prevent another accident like mine.”

“A warning sign?” Loki mocks. “It’s common sense to not get close to the ledge.”

You can’t help but laugh and continue to pester him for a solution.

“Ok then maybe set up some rails or a fence,” you offer. “Your first order of business when you become king is to put some rails up.”

Loki shakes his head as you continue to ramble on possible solutions for him to consider. You look back at him in amusement and he can’t help but smile in response. The return of your happiness was contagious and he allowed himself the peaceful reprieve of it.

poison & wine tag: @damalseer @just-the-hiddles @jessiejunebug @nonsensicalobsessions @smollest-soybean @assassinoftheworld @readerbandit @doyoufeelikeayounggod @strangemcuvlogs @ha-tep @i-dont-know-eiither @gene-king @day-dreaming-fox @bn-studies @is-it-madness @sigyn-njorddottir @devilbat @victor-criss-bish @skinny-macncheese @musicconversedance @baby-bunnyxn @fandoms-allovertheplace @marvelloonie @jinxjinxednova @queenmuahaha @accio-boys @eternalqueensworld @umlvk @roger-the-reindeer @punkrockhufflefluff

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger

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queenaryastark · 4 years

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George RR Martin: dragons are weapons of mass destruction, they're symbols of destruction and not of rebuilding, it's why the targaryens lost their power because their rule was built on fear and when the dragons died it only took a small spark to cause a rebellion, daenerys should read fire and blood so she can learn how not to use dragons daenerys herself: dragons plant no trees, If they are monsters than so am I Yall: i cant read suddenly i dont know

LMAO! I can’t even call that paraphrasing since this jumble of out of context gibberish completely misinterprets GRRM’s words and intent.

First off, no one said dragons weren’t weapons of mass destruction. Them being powerful weapons is pretty obvious. Them being weapons does not erase the violence and cruelty of characters who do not have them. The mass destruction the Starks and Lannisters have wrought against the Riverlands and Westerlands was done without the aid of dragons. So was the mass destruction the Greyjoys and Boltons wrought on the North. The Tyrells were able to commit mass murder by cutting off food supplies, which led to mass starvation, which was their specific intent.

Dragons are dangerous. Obviously. So are people, as George R. R. Martin goes out of his way to tell us in every chapter of his work. The man literally depicts Robb, Stannis, Balon, and Joffrey as equally as violent toward the common people and the land of Westeros. He even gives Dany this metaphoric image of the four of them:

“In one room, a beautiful woman sprawled naked on the floor while four little men crawled over her. They had rattish pointed faces and tiny pink hands, like the servitor who had brought her the glass of shade. One was pumping between her thighs. Another savaged her breasts, worrying at the nipples with his wet red mouth, tearing and chewing.” -- A Clash Of Kings

And that is far from the only time he frames them in an equally negative light given their level of mass destruction.

when the dragons died it only took a small spark to cause a rebellion, daenerys should read fire and blood so she can learn how not to use dragons

You think Dany should read Fire and Blood? I agree. I hope she gets a copy once she arrives to save Westeros from the warlords, opportunistic politicians, and the Others. Though you should probably try to find someone who can read it to you and explain what all the big words mean. If you look in that book, you will see that the Targaryens became extremely popular and loved. They decreased the amount of war and destruction, they streamlined the laws, they established roads, and they removed a couple of the abuses that were the norm. They were far from perfect. But in that imperfection, Dany could learn from them too.

As for a “small spark” causing a rebellion as soon as they didn’t have dragons... *sighs* If you don’t know about a topic, that’s fine. Not everyone can be an expert on every topic. But you Sansa stans (yes I know you’re a Sansa stan and you probably have that hideous image of ST with her trademark vacant expression and that ugly ferret crown as your icon) should actually fact check yourselves before trying and failing to present yourselves as an authority on anything. The last dragon died in 153 AC. The Targaryens were overthrown in 283 AC. Even before 153 AC, the dragons that lived either weren’t under their control, were pretty young, or were deformed. In other words, they continued to rule Westeros without dragons for a significant amount of time. In that time, not only did they rule, but they were able to bring Dorne into the realm peacefully.

Even the wars they had were far fewer than the amount of constant wars that happened while the kingdoms were separate. The Blackfyre Rebellions were sparked by Westerosi racism and xenophobia against the Dornish, as well as the greed and opportunism from the Andal/First Men supporters of the Blackfyre claimant. Notice how in those rebellions the people of Westeros supported either the Targaryens or the Targaryen blooded Blackfyres? No matter which side the lords took, they were supporting a Targaryen because they support that family. Like in real life civil wars, they just supported different members of that same royal line. It wasn’t because they feared them. They wanted their rule. They just wanted the rule of a specific claimant over another based on their own values or what they thought they could gain from a change in Targaryen leadership.

Even with the Baratheon rebellions, they were still Targaryen blooded claimants. With Lyonel Baratheon, he felt his family was insulted when an engagement between the crown prince and his daughter was broken so the prince could marry a peasant. This might seem like a “small spark”, but this would have been considered hugely offensive by the classist nobility. Note how this rebellion was resolved incredibly easily to the point where I don’t even think it warrants being labeled an actual rebellion. It seems more like it was set up for the next Baratheon rebellion since it resulted in that House gaining even more Targaryen blood than it already had. That’s the thing, the nobility wanted their children to marry Targaryens. Doesn’t sound very fearful, does it?

Robert’s Rebellion wasn’t set off by a “small spark”. The kidnapping and rape of the Lord of Winterfell’s daughter and the betrothed of the Lord of Storm’s End is not insignificant. It also didn’t set off the rebellion. The murders of multiple lords and their heirs is also not a small thing. It didn’t set off the rebellion either. What set it off was the combination of those two events with the demand for the executions of the new Lord of Winterfell and the Lord of Storm’s End. Those events taken separately are not small sparks and they certainly aren’t small when put together. It took something HUGE to make a big part of the realm turn on the Targaryens. Even still, the rebels were in the minority since most of the other regions either stayed out of the conflict waiting to see how it played out or stayed loyal to the Targaryens. If Tywin had continued to stay out of the conflict, the Rebellion could have lasted indefinitely with either side winning since the Crown’s forces outnumbered them and occupied the Stormlands.

You also seem to miss the fact that quite a few people in Westeros are still Targaryen Loyalists and want to restore them to the throne. You even miss the fact that Robert, Joffrey, and Tommen’s claim comes from their Targaryen blood.

So no, the Targaryen rule was not based purely on fear. They clearly retained loyalty and love without the benefit of dragons as weapons.

daenerys herself: dragons plant no trees, If they are monsters than so am I

It’s funny how you can try to quote the book while having no understanding of the passage you’re quoting. Here’s the paragraph you’re referring to:

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought.Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros?I am the blood of the dragon, she thought.If they are monsters, so am I. -- ADWD

This takes place in Dany’s second chapter of A Dance With Dragons after she has captured and chained two of her dragons and failed to capture the third. Why is she trying to chain them? Because Drogon killed one (1) child. That’s right. Not only is Dany compensating the people for the sheep her dragons were eating. She has no tolerance for them killing innocents. The quote above is not her glorying in the destructive power of the dragons. Nor is she going around without an ounce of guilt for terrorizing, maiming, and murdering innocents the way Robb, Balon, Stannis, Joffrey, Tyrion, Cersei, and every other leader in Westeros does. That is what this passage is PROVING. Seriously, using the “If they are monsters, so am I” quote is proving that Dany has guilt over the life her dragon has taken and that she has taken steps to prevent that from happening again. Compare that to Tyrion’s complete lack of care when it comes to the mass murder his family is causing:

"A lordling down from the Trident, says your father's men burned his keep, raped his wife, and killed all his peasants."

"I believe they call that war." -- Tyrion, ACOK

While Dany is trying to preserve lives, the mass murdering leaders of Westeros see murder and rape as the norm and completely acceptable. Even the noble Robb Stark tried to move the carnage that he and Tywin were inflicting on the Riverlands into the Westerlands and was upset that his plan to do so was partly thwarted by Edmure. His issue wasn’t with the common people suffering and dying. He just wanted the suffering and dying to happen to the common people of the Westerlands (the ones who hadn’t been forced into service as arrow fodder by the Lannisters yet) instead. Yet, you’re trying to use Dany’s guilt at one (1) child being killed by her dragon as proof of...something?

As for Dany not planting trees, yes, she fears that’s something Targaryens can’t do. But the text shows that her ancestors could and did. Dany is also planting trees in ADWD and was in the process of making Vaes Tolorro bloom in ACOK before she was invited to Qarth. The Golden Company (who wants to put her and Aegon on the Iron Throne as a pair) are even upset because they think she’s only interested in planting trees in Meereen.

When analyzing a literary work you have to understand that what the characters fear and the guilt they feel are not signs of their permanent situations. They’re signs of their internal obstacles that will be overcome in their arcs. Dany fears her dragons and fears herself and fears that she won’t be able to achieve peace and positive societal growth. Its good that she fears these things because this shows she acknowledges these issues so they can be overcome. The current Westeros leadership don’t see the issue in their mass murdering, which is an issue all on it’s own.

Its alright if this series is above your comprehension level. There are books out there for you to read that are better suited for your capabilities, like Hop on Pop or Green Eggs and Ham. It’s probably best if you stick to those.

#this is why sansa stans shouldn't have access to keyboards #fandom wank #Anonymous

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clairecrive · 4 years

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“Great expectations”- modern!Alfie Solomons x reader imagine

The lovely @kingarthurscat requested this imagine with the prompt “ you better have a very good reason for waking me up at four in the morning.” with Alfie. Thanks again for the request honey, I had a lot of fun writing this! Hope you like it!

I haven’t proofread it so I’m sorry if there are any mistakes. Oh and btw, everything mentioned is true.

As always, feedback and requests are always appreciated!

Tag list: @mollybegger-blog (let me know if you wanna be added)

“No way!” you whispered excitedly at what you had discovered.

It never occurred to you that you can literally find anything on the internet. And by anything you mean, the endless content about your latest obsession, whatever it was. You had always been passionate about literature and learned as much as you could about the little things of authors’ lives.

You couldn’t put into words the joy and the bliss you felt whenever you learned something, completely useless academically, but that gave you a better insight about the author personality all the same. For example, lately, you had discovered that Lord Byron vaccinated his children against cowpox or that he named his dog smut which you found incredibly funny seeing that nowadays the word is used to describe scenes of sexual natures, which surprisingly fits perfectly with Byron’s lifestyle. Or that one time Shelly wrote a letter to Keats worried about Byron’s mysterious disappearance and then wrote a follow-up letter in which he explained that the Lord had almost died of dehydration and malnutrition because he was too engaged in other activities, if you what I mean. Keat’s answer was the best thing though, he basically told Shelly that he should have left him there. The three most famous poets argued like petty girls in high school and you loved it!

Not to mention all the stuff you learned about Greek Mythology and Etymology which were somehow deeply related.

However, what sent you into pure bliss as of right now was the sudden realisation that no one really knew about author’s voices, which sounds like an obvious thing but somehow that never occurred to you. No one knew about Byron’s or Keat’s or even Plato’s voices. What if they had a funny voice? Or like a lift or something? Wouldn’t be absolutely ironic if someone like Plato who is so snob and racist have a shrill, high-pitched voice? That would be karma’s doing but much to your dismay there was absolutely no way to know. Imagine how upsetting it would be to find out that someone like Lord Byron whose name alone is enough to send you shivers and was able to be a token of his status, who you had always thought to have a very deep, husky voice that it must have been one of the reasons why people of both sexes found him so irresistible had instead a strident or thin voice? That would be mindblowing. As it was the fact that if Oscar Wilde had lived just a little longer maybe we would have registrations of his voice. How cool would that be?

This were the little things you lived for. It’s unusual, you’re aware of that. For that reason, you had always been very careful in sharing this interest with the people in your life. Some of them shared the same excitement, to your surprise; others didn’t really care for it but usually smiled politely just not to upset you. You’d always understand when someone was on your same wavelength but were grateful nonetheless that you were lucky enough to have supportive people in your life that even if they found you weird were kind enough not to tell you.

When you first started dating Alfie, you never really let him on this unusual hobby you had. Sure, he knew about your love for literature and reading but that was it. It was only after the first month that you had gradually initiated him to it to see what his reaction was. At first, you justified your discoveries by saying that your teacher had said them or that you had read them in the book you were studying, which sometimes was the truth. Letting him know that that was exactly what you spent your free time doing and sometimes even the time you should be sleeping or studying was a whole other thing.

Over the dates you had been to, you had found out that Alfie was quite the intellectual. Despite his rough exterior he had read his fair share of books and was very passionate about literature. That was one of the things that had attracted you to him, to be honest. Your head was saying that you should go ahead and share this new piece of information you had found casually, without making it too much of a thing. If he wasn’t as excited by it as you were then in the worst-case scenario you wouldn’t share those kinds of things with him anymore and in the best case, he’d enjoy hearing it just because he loved you and he would appreciate every little thing you shared with him. Just like you’d listen to him complain about work problems or over the difference between rum and bread which apparently wasn’t discussed.

So tonight, you let your enthusiasm carry you away and called him to share the realisation that had hit you. Currently, Alfie was in the USA for business reasons. Something about making a deal with a potential partner which would allow him to expand his rum overseas. However, that didn’t register to you until you were met with his sleepy grunt and the blackness of his room.

“Y/N?” his raspy voice was the only thing you could hear along the sounds of him shifting in the sheets. When he called you last time he had told you that he would leave his phone on so that whatever happened you could call him. He wasn’t expecting you to actually do it though.

“Oh shoot. I forgot about the time difference Alfie, I’m sorry. Go back to sleep, this can wait until later.” you quickly apologised

“What is it?” he ignored you and moved around so that he could turn on the light on his bedside table.

“It’s really nothing babe, I’m sorry. I got carried away from the excitement and forgot you were in the States.”

“Well now I’m up, ain’t I? So you better have a very good reason for waking me up at four in the morning,” he said rubbing the sleep from his eyes finally letting you see his face. Gosh, how could he be so handsome when he literally just woke up? You really were lucky.

“So, I was wasting my time on the internet like I usually do until I came across a post that left me shook.” you started explaining

“So far this doesn’t seem like a good reason to wake me, love,” he muttered but you could see it from his eyes that he didn’t really mean it. To be fair, only the fact that he didn’t tell you to go to hell and actually was ready to hear you out got him the “best boyfriend of the year” award.

“It wasn’t a normal post, Alfie. Hear me out. Have you ever thought about how we have never listened to the voice of the most famous poets of all times?” Now it was out and it was time to study his reaction.

“That- well I’ve never thought about it pet. That’s weird, innit?” The gods were smiling upon you and had graced you with the most fantastic human being in the whole world. He had actually stopped to think about it before answering you and had a face of utter surprise just like you had when you first read the post.

“You know what’s even more mind-blowing? The fact that if Oscar Wilde had lived a little longer we would have known his voice? Now how cool would it have been?!” By now you weren't sure anymore if your enthusiasm was for the fact itself or for how much you loved and appreciated the man laying on a bed on the other side of the planet.

“Fuck, that really would have been cool. Is it because he died in the 1900s?” he asked engaged with the conversation just as much as you were.

“Yes! I did a little research, right? And I found out that first gramophones were being patented in that time. So ten years or so later and now we would have known his voice. What an unfortunate series of coincidences.” you shared his feelings and what you learned with him.

“What?” you asked when you noticed that he was staring intently at you without saying anything. He had a little smile on his face and the intensity of his gaze was actually starting to make you feel self-conscious.

“You really are a geek, aren’t you love?” he asked and it was one of those rare times where the word was told with affection and not with scorn.

“I guess so.” you timidly admit. Love wasn’t the only thing you could see in his eyes, there was also a lot of tiredness.

“I love you, Alfie, thank you for listening to me even if I interrupted your beauty sleep.”

“Don’t even say it, love, you can always count on me. Even if it’s to share something like that at four in the morning.” he snickered lightly but behind his words was the unspoken promise that whatever it was you could share everything with him and that almost made you cry of happiness.

“Well, I promise I won’t do it again. I mean the four am part. Go to sleep baby, I’ll see you tomorrow right?” you softly said.

“You will pet. Goodnight, well I guess it’s a good morning now. I love you.” his sweet words were the last one you exchanged before hanging up.

Well, that had gone way better than your greatest expectations.

#alfie solomons #modern alfie solomons #modern!alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagines #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders x reader #Tom Hardy #tom hardy imagines #alfie solomons imagine #tom hardy x reader

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chimswae · 3 years

Text

BTS Caretaker CH22

Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?

- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)

- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au

- Word Count: 4, 225

- Author Note: I have been busy working from home :< apparently third wave of virus really hit us hard here, stay safe everyone xx

Previous | Next

Chapter 22

“What should I wear” Seul rummaged through her closet finding a perfect outfit for her to wear to this so-called date with Yoong. “First of all, why should I pay attention on my outfit? It is just Min Yoongi. Doesn’t mean he is going to show up” she plopped on her bed with sour face.

“It couldn’t be a prank, right? Is he planning to embarrass me?” Seul talked to herself letting out a dramatic gasp in process.

“So, you have a date with Yoongi” her mother voice spooked her a little, causing her to sit up immediately. Mrs Hwang was leaning against the door with a teasing smile on her face. She made her way inside taking a seat beside her daughter “When is the date?” Seul turned crimson red.

“It is not like what you think. He asked me to accompany him to do this stupid bungee jumping” she scowled in annoyance “And it is random” Mrs Hwang gave her hand a soft pat. “Once in a while I’m glad you are living the life like a normal girl at your age” her mother smiled affectionately.

“Living the life like a normal girl at my age, yes. But not with Yoongi” she sassed earning a soft chuckle from the older woman. Seul’s eyes scanned the clothes scattered on her bed trying to spot the best outfit to wear, but it failed her again. Groaning in frustration, she turned to face Mrs Hwang “If I wear this white blouse and skirt, I am not overdressing myself, right?” chewing her lower lips, Seul hoped her mother could be a great help.

As Mrs Hwang soothed the soft fabric, she shot her daughter a bewildered look “Who wears skirt to bungee jumping? You got to be kidding me Seul” realizing her mistake, Seul slapped her forehead scolding her short-minded thinking. Why was she acted all silly today? Was it because of Yoongi? Not this issue again, she had enough.

The older woman pulled out blue skinny jeans underneath piles of clothes and handed it to Seul “Wear this with that blouse you picked earlier, don’t forget to bring your jacket. It is still cold outside” beaming cheerfully, her heavy breathing normalizes. She had no idea choosing an outfit to go out with Yoongi would be this hard, alright maybe she’s the one who complicate things.

“Mind to tell me, what happen between you and the boys? To be exact, Yoongi. You two seem friendly” her expression was unreadable, not even Seul could read what’s on her mind.

“Nothing much, we become friends. The boys are friendly and relatable. I like having them as my friend. As for Yoongi and I, do not have any weird idea because we both are just frenemy? We are not even friend or that is what I thought” her confident level deflated at the thought of Yoongi.

Mrs Hwang eyed her girl with a disapproval look. She was sure there’s more of the story that Seul tried to hide from her. This girl had been showing her resentment towards Yoongi since day one making it appeared suspicious to her.

“Mom, don’t you think Yoongi is a complicated man?” the question had been playing in her head for quite some time, it was matter of time to express it aloud.

“He is a complicated man. But he has the softest heart of all. Seul, Yoongi-ah has been going through a lot of thing in his life. Are you aware that he had depression before?” Seul’s eyes widened in pure shock. It never occurred to her a rough man like Yoongi would have that kind of illness because from her eyes, Yoongi has the strongest character in comparison to others.

“How is it possible? He looks fine to me..I mean…from the way he acted around me, he looks quite strong” she murmured.

Mrs Hwang shook her head “He appears to be strong, but he is a broken young man inside. He too has insecurity. Never trust what they show to you. It is how they mask themselves. What I am trying to say, try to see the other side of them instead of judging how they acted around you. Those boys are still kids to me. Poor kids to experience such thing at this age” she sighed deeply.

Seul forced herself to smile yet it came out bland “It must be hard to live their life as celebrity” she empathized them.

“It is not easy. The only reason why I insist on preparing meals for them because out of all things happen in their life only that makes them feel normal. They work hard all day, shielding their pain and tiredness from the world to chase their dreams. Those boys deserve to be treated like some normal boys, who crave for normal life” her mother’s words got Seul to reflect her attitude towards them back then. She felt small and disgusted of herself. How could she be selfless and refuse to see other point of view? She is not the only one with issues and problems, there are other people outside have awful fate as compared to her.

Her mother stroked the top of her hand and flashed a motherly smile “Do not be too hard on them and yourself. Serious relationship can wait, as for now focus on what makes you happy. Don’t feel burdened by it” her eyes were brimming with tears now. Mrs Hwang could read her like an open book without she needed to tell her everything that had been haunting her these days.

“Aw, why are you crying?” she cupped Seul cheeks, stroking away the tears that started to stream down wetting her cheeks. Seul chuckled softly “Thank you, mom. You are the best” pulling the love of her heart into a tight embrace.

Will it be harmful to follow the flow of life?

What if someone gets hurt in the end?

What if she needs to make a choice?

Seul shuddered at the though of making a choice when she was not sure of her own feelings.

Bad move, Ji Seul.

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

Tapping her feet anxiously, Seul was getting annoyed of waiting. The more she anticipated Yoongi’s face to appear before her, the slower the time moved. It was 5PM and he was nowhere to be seen. Not even a text from him, Yoongi stood her up for sure. She shouldn’t have trusted that guy. Grumpy Seul decided to leave the scene before she made fool of herself. Hugging her jacket close to her body to seek warmth, she stood up from where she sat and left the area.

Sound of heavy footsteps behind her along with faint hollered put her steps at halt. Turning her heels to the source of the voice, she was greeted by the image of Yoongi sprinting for his life towards her direction. Eyeing the guy carefully, Seul grew concern “Yoongi are you alright?” he held his palm out while panting heavily.

The weather was cold, yet she could see bead of sweats on his forehead that started to trickle down his milky skin. She felt guilty. Judging from the way he dressed, he did not even bother to put his black mask over his mouth. Thankfully, his signature bucket hat was enough to cover half of his small face.

“Lets sit down, you look dead” she reached out to touch his arm, leading him to the bench nearby. Yoongi leaned back in his seat, steadying his rapid breathing. His heart was about to jump out soon. Seul on the side couldn’t stop worrying over Yoongi condition, she feared the guy might pass out there by any second now.

She used the end of her jacket to wipe off the sweat on his face gently. The small gesture flustered Yoongi but a soft smile was evident on his face as he enjoyed this little attention that he got. “Calm down your breathing, you will be fine in few minutes” she whispered.

Yoongi took the chance to watch how she puffed her cheeks in and out while dabbing the sweats on his face dried. Even to this extent, Seul knew how to shake the deepest core of his heart. How ironic for someone who’s madly in love. Was he in love?

Inhaling a deep breath, Yoongi held her hand down while smiling softly “Thank you Seul. I am fine now. Sorry, for making you wait” he muttered.

“I thought you stood me up. I was about to leave” she grimaced. Not that it was something to be upset of, but she was freezing. Today’s weather was not helping her either. Yoongi chuckled upon his eyes landed on her Rudolph nose, and gently rubbed it with thumb. Her heart pounded madly at this slight touch, causing her to pull away slowly giving a little space for her to normalize her breathing.

Yoongi softened “I won’t do that because it is a date after all” he winked. She cleared her throat allowing the redness engulfing her cheeks. Seul would never get used to Yoongi sudden change of attitude around her and some more to see Yoongi in different perspective was hard for her. It came to her realization, this softened her as she learnt to accept Yoongi’s rough side. She no longer had negative thoughts on Yoongi well unless he annoyed the hell out of her.

“Are you ready, lets go?” without giving her time to digest, Yoongi had already dragged the clueless girl to the counter. After flashing their admission ticket, one of the workers led the couple to elevator, making their way up to the 24th floor. Her mind started to get dizzy just by hearing the numbers. Just, how tall it would be? She rubbed her sweaty palms against her jeans.

“Yoongi, I am here just to watch you jump right?” she gulped showing off her fear. Yoongi looked at her in disbelief, his forehead creased into a frown “No way, I am dragging you down with me” she shrieked.

“WHAT? NO NO GET ME DOWN NOW. I AM NOT GOING TO JUMP WITH YOU” she started to panic.

Yoongi laughed “I don’t know you are a scaredy-cat” Seul let out a low disapproval scowl, glaring her way to playful Yoongi. “I value my life, so I am not going to jump especially with you. Hell no. You are going to cut off my wire and let me die!”

“That sounds like a good idea. Plotting your murder sounds easier than I thought” he fired back with playful smirk on his face.

“I KNEW IT! You are planning to kill me since start” she hissed. Bemused, Yoongi swayed his body to face pale Seul, like a reflex she pressed her back against the elevator “Wait, wait. Don’t come close. I know what you have in your mind” she squeaked.

Clicking tongue inside his mouth, he trapped her between his body, tilting his head with an amused look, “You can lean on me. You will be fine” he whispered dangerously close to her ears. Seul felt extremely high right now. Yoongi quickly pulled away when he heard the ding sound opening the door not long after. Seul walked after her with flushed face, as her mind diligently spout curses after curses.

The staffs greeted them warmly assisting the couple to get ready with the safety gears before their jump. Seul kept on pestering Yoongi about not wanting to jump with him but to her dismay, the stubborn guy won’t budge and pretended like her cries never existed. He insisted of bringing Seul down with him which was sounded absurd to her.

What was his motive?

Yoongi walked over to Seul as he noticed how she appeared scared and panic, making it hard for the staff to put on the safety gears on her. He motioned the staff to let him take over the task which he gladly complied. The staff left not long after giving the space for the couple. Her gaze who at first diligently scanned the area seeking for some sort of strength were now on Yoongi. His hand found its way to her waist, clasping the gear near her torso. The closeness of their body was killing her heart instantly.

“Relax Seul. It will be fun and as soon as you open your eyes, you will realize it is already over” fiddling with the clasp on the other side of her waist, he whispered. “It is never too late to back off now” he exclaimed.

“You should have said that sooner!” she gasped in delight. Yoongi rolled his eyes at her response knowing how unpredictable this girl could be, what did he expect from her again.

She is Ji Seul for pete’s sake.

Yoongi shot her disapproval look upon seeing Seul showing her agreement on his words “So, you are planning to waste my money and just watch me jump?” he teased her in hope this stubborn girl would find even the slightest guilt in her heart. Which appeared to be none.

“I didn’t ask you to spend your money on me. In fact, who brings a girl to bungee jumping on their date!” he heard her protest as her lips was tugged into a small pout. He’s going crazy over Seul, everything that she did was either too cute or sexy to him. Insane.

He snickered “You consider this as a date then?” she found herself being cornered. As much as she felt like smacking the sense out of Yoongi, she was trying to contain her annoyance and anger at once. If an only she could smack Yoongi hard. She would gladly do that.

“That is not the point. The point here is no one brings their date to a 24-floor building to do free jump. THAT IS NOT ROMANTIC AT ALL”

“Missy, it is not a free jump it calls bungee jumping for a reason. I have no idea that you want to do romantic thing with me, I will schedule our second date as soon as possible” he sneered sarcastically.

“Whoa hold on! No more dates with you! Your definition of romantic would involve scary thing like this one” she knocked Yoongi’s head over his helmet causing him to groan in frustration. Did her nasty remarks weren’t enough now she’s using her fist to harass him? Great, he had to put up with her weird antic, again.

Yoongi put on the small helmet over her head, squishing her face just to annoy her “That is up for me to decide, now let’s get ready. We are going to do the free jump” he gave her cheeks last squish, pulling the girl with him to the platform.

She could feel rush of fear in her blood stream, as she gulped upon her feet landed on the platform. Her grips on Yoongi’s arm tightened as soon as she saw the dizzying image beneath her feet. Seul felt like bursting into tears right now, and Yoongi sense the girl trembling hand.

“Are you ready?” one of the staffs stood at the edge gave them an encouraging smile.

Seul took a small peek at the image underneath her again, and quickly hid her face in Yoongi’s soft arm. “Yoongs…I don’t think I can do it” her inaudible mutter was crystal clear in his ears. He softened and told the staff to give them a moment. Yoongi released his hand from her strong grip and cradled her head in his hand “Do you trust me?” his sugary smile melted her heart. Her fear earlier on starts to subside, even though she was not confident whether she could handle the aftermath of the jump.

“If anything, happen you will be responsible. But what if you let go my hand” she blinked her tears away. Seul’s biggest fears were height and she had never been good in coping with it. Yoongi awed at her change of attitude in contrast to Seul sassy and fierce side, she could be a baby sometimes.

He encircled his arm around her body, embracing her tight “I will not let your hand go, trust me alright? Let’s do this” he stroked her waist. Yoongi slid his hand underneath her thigh, lifting her up causing the girl to squeal.

“MIN YOONGI WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck in reflex.

“So, I won’t let your hand go?” he said with a cheeky smile showing of his gum.

“This is your plan?”

“Yes”

“Let me down. It is even scarier this way. I am like one floor higher!”

“Just hold me tight Seul. Stop complaining!”

“How can i-YOONGS YAH-“ she screamed loudly when he purposely dangled one of his legs of the platform. Seul could feel his body wobbled to regain balance making the girl to clutch onto his back shirt tighter.

“I fucking hate you” she spouted some vulgar words out of annoyance.

Yoongi let out a low chuckle “Language, Seul” he signalled the staff that they were ready to jump, “Ready your heart, this is going to be the best jump!” he whispered softly. Her nervousness doubled as soon as she felt he moved slightly closer to the edge of the platform.

“Oh my god, this is bad idea. You are dead meat min yoongi” she buried her face in his shoulder, biting it slightly to ease her nervousness. It came out really naturally not that she wanted to flirt him in the middle of their life or death.

With a last smile, Yoongi pushed his body completely off the platform while holding onto Seul closed to him “OH GOD” she squeaked upon the cold breeze hit her already freezing skin. Yoongi pushed her upwards a little causing the latter to squeal fixing her position so she was more comfortable.

Both of them bounced a little following the tightness of the wire, a wide grin never left his face since then. He had fun holding onto Seul in his arms. The happiness that he never felt before.

When she opened her eyes, she found Yoongi was staring into her dark orbs. Confusing as it sounded, Yoongi was using his eyes to communicate. Ugh, only if she could decode it. His gummy smile was back on his face “I told you it would be fun and I won’t let you go” he leaned closer, however Seul buried her face at the crook of his neck shyly.

Why was she feeling embarrass and affected by this?

Biting his lower lips, Yoongi stroked her back as they waited until they descended safely on the ground. He set her down as soon as they feet landed on ground. He helped Seul to take of her safety gears, and she thanked him, avoiding his gaze at all time. Yoongi liked to see her shy side, for some reason he looked calmer than her fierce side.

The couple bowed politely as gratitude before leaving the site with mixed feelings inside. Seul and Yoongi walked side by side in total silence. They seemed to enjoy the cold breeze and the empty street. It was calming this way. To her distaste, her belly gurgled loudly as she patted it to quell its sound from being heard.

His brows quirked in amusement “Someone is hungry. Let’s find something to fill that empty tummy” Seul looked down embarrass with her own weird antic. Out of all day, her stomach acted weird only to throw shades on her face.

“Any idea where to eat?” his lips were pressed into thin in a deep thought.

“Fish cake and ramen?” she suggested.

It was his turn to protest “Who eats those on a date?” he scoffed.

“You consider this a date?” she teased.

“Yes I am. Unlike that someone” his response made her pout slightly.

“Killing yourself is not a good date!” she disagreed.

“But you survive. Thanks to me” Yoongi intertwined his hand with hers before she could say something nasty again. “Let’s get your fish cake and ramen” Seul swore to god, one day she would definitely straggle this man for dragging her around without her consent.

The couple ended up walking further along the river, and Yoongi’s handsome face alight with merriment as his eyes fall upon the small convenience store. Coincidently, just beside the store there was a small stall selling their hot fish cake. They entered the store selecting their favourite ramen, and Seul insisted on paying the food considering Yoongi had spent his money on the force free jump. Even though he never agreed on it yet who could stop Seul?

Exiting the store, Seul set her ramen on the table “You take a seat, I will purchase the Eomuk!” she exclaimed in excitement. Reluctant, Yoongi sat down watching the girl swaying her body happily purchasing her favourite food.

“Aigoo, young lady. Why are you out in this weather without extra jacket?” the old lady shook her head showing her concern. Seul rubbed the back of her neck with a sheepish smile “I was in rush, so I forgot to bring extra sweater with me. Don’t worry, I am fine” the old lady handed her the fish cake in a cup.

“Are you on a date?” her eyes travelled to Yoongi as the corner of her lips was tugged into a meaningful smile.

Seul smiled nervously “He is a friend of mine. It is not like that”

“You two make a great couple. Be happy” she thanked the old lady and made her way to Yoongi. She sat across him, placing their food on the table “What took you so long? Did the ahjumma know me?” he asked with curiosity.

She cringed “Why would she? You are just Min Yoongi” “BTS Suga” he corrected.

“Yes, bratty BTS MIN SUGA” she rolled her eyes. Seul ignored the guy in front of him and started to dig in. Ramen and fishcake are the best combination for this cold weather. At least her empty stomach now was well fed. Occasionally, she would steal a glance at Yoongi. He was struggling with his food as it appeared to be too hot, yet he insisted on pushing the noodles inside his mouth.

Their humble dinner was quiet and calm without their endless banter. For once, Yoongi and Seul could sit together in one place without throwing shades on each other. That was a huge improvement.

“Can I ask you something?” Yoongi put down his chopstick, resting chin on his palm. It made him even cuter than he already is. Seul tried to focus and stopped herself from ogling the man in front of her.

“Go on”

“This is quite personal though” she gave him an assuring nod letting him to continue. After the talk that she had with her mother this morning, she was determined to change her attitude and treated Yoongi better if he didn’t pick any fight with her.

He gulped the heavy lump on his throat “Do you like Jungkook and Jimin?” he questioned. The questions were rather unclear to her, yet Yoongi was dead curious of this. The mere thought of it made it hard for him to fall asleep.

“Of course, I like them. They are kind and friendly”

“You do realize they like you more than just a friend, right?” Seul froze at his question. Not this again, she thought no one would question her this after that night. “I know Yoongi. They told everyone about it” her palms started to get sweaty again. She disliked this intensity.

“Have you given it a thought? Whether you are going to accept them or reject them?”

“I can’t sort my feelings right now. Everything happens so fast. I never thought of this to happen even, so I am sorry if I appear selfless. However, I have made it clear to both of them that i don’t have the answers with me. I can’t stop someone to fall in love. Love is too subjective. What I know now, I am giving them a chance. A chance for them and for me to discover my feelings further” sighing deeply, Seul looked disturbed.

Yoongi gazed at her face longingly “You are reconsidering their feelings?” she nodded in response. He ran his hand along his neck, giving it a little massage as he continued “There is still a room for someone in your heart, am I right?” she threw a weird glance at his way.

“Of course. I haven’t made up my mind, it is still available. Now, why are you asking me this?” she examined his expression with so much interest.

“Just wondering if I have the chance. Seems like I do have the chance” he muffled.

“Excuse me?” her eyes rounded staring at him blankly.

Realizing his foul mouth had said something that he was not supposed to, Yoongi arose from his seat “Lets head back! I must get to the studio in an hour. I will walk you back” he started walking away leaving dumbfounded Seul in her seat.

“YAH!” she strutted behind him following the guy quietly. I swear I heard him said something about him having a chance. Was it just me? Seul moaned mentally not liking this game that he played with her.

Don’t be weak now Yoongi. This is not right. Yoongi mentally scolded himself.

#btscaretaker #bts fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts romance #yoongi x oc #jungkook x oc #yoongi fiic #jungkook fic #yoongi fluff #jungkook romance #jeon jungkook x oc #Suga x Oc #bts fanfiction #btsfic #suga fanfic

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xxbyimm · 4 years

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A tale as old as time - Bard the bowman x OC

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Hello dear people of Tumblr!!! I needed a break from all the work I yet have to write, because every time I look at my existing projects, my mind goes into full panic mode. So I asked myself what I wanted to do instead and just went with it. The world just doesn’t have enough Bard the bowman content, BUT I AM HERE FOR IT!

I do hope y’all enjoy! xoxo

A tale as old as Time - Bard x OC - Chapter 1: Esgaroth upon the Long Lake.

Summary: How could he never have noticed her before? Because after just one single glance at this lady and her breathtaking eyes, these bowman’s nights grow long and restless. He considers himself to be too old for infatuations like this, but yet there he is, watching her from a safe distance and craving her touch. Bard is determined to sit this one out, to wait until these unwanted feelings fade away… But we all know what happens when you’re trying to avoid someone in a small town…

Warnings: Not really. Alfrid being creepy as fuck, but that isn’t surprising??

Taglist: @soradragon @pistachiozombie @legolaslovely @tomisbaeholland @saviorsong @swoopswishsward @fizzyxcustard @deepestfirefun @ruthoakenshield @mariannetora Furthermore: @marvel-ous-hobbit @tigereyesf @aryaarathornson showed interest so I’m giving you lovelies a tag! If you don’t wish to be tagged anymore, please let me know! Or if you’re not on the list and want to be tagged: check out my lists and I’d like to hear which list you want in on!

When her father had suggested that the family could use a new start, surely he did not mean… this?

Brea’s grey eyes glanced over the market water and she watched the people bustling about, chattering with one another while examining goods. Her platinum blonde hair hung in a loose braid over her shoulders. The embroidered green dress she had chosen this morning was still a bit too thin during this time of the year, but Brea had been determined to wear it. Her mother did not approve of her daughter’s choice, nor did Mîrhel, wife of Brenion, like the fact that her daughter hadn’t planned on wearing her winter coat as well. The loud, shrieky protests still rung in Brea’s ears.

The eldest daughter of Brenion and Mîrhel shivered and drew the woolly, knitted shawl closer to her body. This place was so cold. Perhaps she should have listened to her mother anyway and brought her coat, but here she was… making her own mistakes. If anything, returning home and telling Mîrhel she was right, wasn’t an option. So for a moment, Brea faced the cold in stride and listened to the local fishermen banter about the weather conditions, their wives and other unimportant matters.

She did not mean to come across as a spoiled brat, but from the moment her father had started preaching about the grand Esgaroth upon the Long Lake, she had imagined a collision of elven and human culture, a rich town which still bore the remnants of the dwarves who had occupied the area long ago. A majestic city, built upon the ruins of Dale.

Lake-town and its’ inhabitants however, was nothing like that. It was a poor place, the houses built upon structures of wooden poles and decks. The people solely relied on their trades with the elves of Mirkwood and the dwarves in the Iron hills, that is if you didn’t count the fish the lake had to offer. Everyone seemed to settle for a simple life and not a noble, meaningful one that (at least in Brea’s opinion) would be so much more satisfying. So as she regarded the fishermen and their merry banter, Brea wondered briefly if these people were even able to think beyond the daily struggle of survival, as the living conditions here were a lot more harsh than she was used to. She pursed her lips together. Compared to her former home of Minas Tirith, she couldn’t help but find Lake-town a bit… disappointing.

It was safe to say that the constant odour of dead fish and the earthly undertones of rotting wood weren’t helping Brea’s view of Lake-town. To make matters even worse, Esgaroth was a terribly cold place. Before, father always had claimed that there was nothing a warm hearth couldn’t cure, but it seemed they never had experienced this particular clammy cold that chilled you to the bones, for not even the winters in Minas Tirith were this wet. It didn’t matter how high you stoked the fire or how well dressed you were. Everyone suffered the same cold.

So if their lives had turned so miserable during these past few weeks, why stay? Why would a family leave the relatively safe borders of Gondor and venture this far north? Why would they risk being robbed, or worse: being killed on the dangerous road towards their destiny? Mother had asked herself this question a hundred times and the answer had always been the same. There hadn’t been a choice, nor could they ever go back home. And for that, Brea was to blame.

A gust of wind travelled over the market water and Brea shivered once more. Though spring had finally set in, even on afternoons like this the weather conditions were treacherous. One could still easily catch a cold. Besides, her mother had insisted her eldest daughter should be back for teatime. She was lucky that Mîrhel had asked her to collect shoes from the cobbler anyway. Since her latest mishaps, Brea wasn’t allowed to go out without a chaperone. It didn’t matter how many times she told her parents that this was a different town, she would do things differently now… They still merely shook their heads and shooed her away.

Brea continued her way around the market water again. The cobbler’s shop lied west of the market, near the town’s gatehouse. Her mother’s instructions had been clear: Brea should inspect the shoes before handing the townsman the money that was owed. If the repair wasn’t living up to the expectations, the poor soul should be payed less. Whatever these expectations might be… She heaved a sigh and trotted over the quays towards her destination. Just before the market, she took a left turn into a small street. She only had been in this part of town once, but if she remembered it correctly the cobbler occupied a shop just further along the way. She narrowed her eyes and tried to spot the little sign to make sure she was going the right direction.

‘My lady Brea, daughter of Brenion.’ A nasty voice called just behind her. Brea whirled around and eyed the hateful man to whom this speech belonged to. The chap was of moderate height, had pitch black hair that was rather greasy and eyes that were dark and looming. Though the stubble on his cheeks did indicate that he did maintain his beard (or he wasn’t able to grow one, she wasn’t sure), he somehow had decided that sporting a unibrow was the way to attract the ladies. Surely this guy was unmarried, because if he would have had a wife, she surely would not let him creep around town looking like this. And definitely not in those dark, slimy clothing that should have been laundered weeks ago.

‘Alfrid.’ She replied while suppressing a shiver. ‘How lovely to see you again.’ ‘Oh, the pleasure is all mine.’ He ensured her with a crooked smile, showing off the yellowest teeth in Middle Earth. ‘Your presence is always a delight.’ She inclined her head, silently sending prayers to the Gods to let this man leave her alone. ‘Thank you.’ ‘So you’re out and about?’ Alfrid went on, his dark eyes piercing through hers. ‘On your own, I might add?’ ‘Our maid was busy and my mother needed someone to collect her shoes.’ Brea said. ‘I’m happy to help.’ ‘I’m sure you are. But I happen to know that your father has told the master you can’t go anywhere without a chaperone.’ The master’s deputy declared. Brea shrugged, not feeling the slightest inclination to let this nasty man stick his awful nose in her business. ‘I guess when we first moved here, my parents redeem Lake-town as less safe for young maidens like myself than our hometown of Minas Tirith. You see, you never know on which corner there might be an assailant lurking.’ Alfrid thought on it for a second, but did not seem to include himself in the category described to him. ‘There are no scoundrels in this town, I daresay, miss. Except from the occasional bargeman.’ ‘That’s a relief.’ Brea answered before turning away. ‘I think my parents must feel the same, which explains why I’m allowed to run some errands. With that being said, I must be on my way now, good sir.’ His hand grabbed her sleeve firmly, causing Brea to hiss in pain. ‘Not so hasty, miss.’ He told her. ‘The decks can be quite slippery in this part of town. I will gladly escort you.’

More slippery than the motives of this guy? Unlikely.

‘Oh, that is very kind of you, but you must have more important, pressing tasks that need tending to.’ Brea replied quickly, while gently pulling her arm away from his hold. ‘I’m sure I’ll manage.’

She did not wait for a reply and started walking in the way of the cobbler’s shop again. The heavier footsteps behind hers told her that Alfrid was quite the persevering type. She suppressed a sigh and quickened her pace. ‘I saw your little sister today.’ Alfrid remarked. ‘Oh?’ Brea murmured, finally setting her eyes on the sign, her destination. ‘She was wandering the market with the eldest spawn of Bard.’ The master’s deputy told you. ‘I must warn you about that bargeman and his kin.’ Though Brea wasn’t interested in the slightest, she did feel inclined to ask anyway. For Jen’s sake it was better if she knew something was wrong before their parents did. ‘What about them?’ ‘They are vile people, troublemakers. No respect for the authorities, so to speak. Your parents should not allow your sister to associate with that family.’

Brea paused and turned around to face the ugly man. Her grey eyes bore into his dark ones. She knew her sister had an excellent sense of character: Jen would never associate herself with the wrong people. Unlike her big sister, who only seemed to attract the worst of humanity itself. The prove of that point was standing right before her. ‘I will talk to her.’ She finally replied rather haughtily. ‘But I am fairly sure-’ Alfrid wasn’t looking at her anymore. Brea followed his gaze over the canal.

There was a man standing on the deck on the other side. Though it seemed he was just minding his own business, arms folded and casually leaning against a wall of one of the homes, his glare was directed at the spot they stood. The man had a tall, strong build and dark hair that reached his shoulders. From such a distance she couldn’t tell the colour of his eyes, but they seemed mysteriously dark. A familiar yearning feeling settled in the pit of her stomach and Brea licked her lips.

‘Will you leave this poor woman alone, Alfrid?’ The man finally spoke in a gruff tone. ‘She clearly doesn’t want your affections.’ ‘This is the troublemaker I was telling you about, miss Brea!’ The master’s deputy spat. ‘He gives us nothing but revolts and misery!’ Brea could not hide her grin and she immediately liked this bargeman. Not only was he very easy on the eye, Alfrid seemed to hate him. Perhaps if she became acquainted with this man, that rat would leave her alone. ‘It’s nice to meet you, master Bard.’ She said, while making a curtsey. ‘I am Brea, daughter of Brenion the merchant. We’re new in town.’ ‘The pleasure is mine.’ He replied, a rueful smile adorning his face. ‘I think I have seen you at the market with your mother a few times before, but we never spoke.’ ‘And let’s keep it that way, shall we!’ Alfrid broke in and he glared nastily at Bard before grabbing Brea’s arm and dragging her along with him. Brea shot a helpless glance behind her only to discover that the bargeman was gone. She winced when the master’s deputy squeezed her wrist too hard, but the latter one didn’t seem to notice. He paced over the decks, trotting the eldest daughter of Brenion along all while mumbling to himself. ‘This beautiful young lady doesn’t need her reputation shattered by that smug, lowly piece of filth. I will tell the master what he-’ Brea groaned, this time slowly peeling his cold, clammy fingers from her wrist. Alfrid didn’t seem to notice and went on grumbling about the wrongdoings of this poor Bard fellow. She couldn’t imagine what he had done to set a character like Alfrid off, but it surely would be something ridiculous.

By the time she had freed herself from the master’s deputy’s slimy touch, they were standing before the cobbler’s shop. ‘Here we are, miss Brea.’ Alfrid made a little bow and showed her his huge, yellow teeth again. ‘I will wait outside to escort you home.’ ‘Oh, that’s not necessary.’ Brea said sweetly. ‘I will probably need to stop by the tailor anyway. You see, these shoes only go with special undergarments. My mother is quite specific about these-’ Alfrid held up his hands defensively and smirked. ‘Enough said, my lady. I don’t need to know about underclothing, especially not your mother’s. I’ll leave you here to run your- errm- lady errands.’

Exactly. She had been counting on that. You see, people like Alfrid did get nervous whenever women addressed women’s topics. Brea smiled innocently before making a little curtsey. ‘You are too kind, mister Alfrid.’ She crooned. ‘Now forgive me, for I most hurry. My mother will be worried if I don’t make it back before teatime.’ Alfrid bowed before her. ‘This is where we part ways, miss Brea. I’ll see you tomorrow, at the master’s house.’

Good Gods, she had totally forgotten about that. The master had invited father and his family over for dinner. Up until now, Brea hadn’t even thought of the possibility of Alfrid being there. Of course he would. And after being unnecessary kind to the guy, she probably had to deal with the consequences of that tomorrow. With a deep frown on her face, she watched the master’s deputy creep away over the decks. Jenessa was bound to have the best time once she discovered what her big sister had set in motion, unwillingly attracting the worst suitors of mankind.

There had been one exception to the rule. She glanced at the direction where Bard had been standing. Well… make that two.

‘Goodness girl, what took you so long!’ Her mother cried from the reading room as soon as their servant opened the front door to let Brea in. ‘I almost did send poor Catherine out to tell your dad you were missing!’

‘Don’t fret, mother.’ Brea protested loudly while handing the shoes and her shawl over to the servant. ‘The master’s deputy slowed me down, that’s all.’

There was a short silence. ‘Ah, you mean that chap… what’s his name…’ Mîrhel murmured, barely audible. ‘Alfrid.’ Brea replied as she made her way through the hall and entered the reading room. Her mom was sitting on their chaise longue, the couch in opposite of her surprisingly empty. In the table between stood a porcelain tea set on a silver platter. ‘Come here, my dear.’ She said and she patted on the spot directly next to her. ‘You tell me all about your encounter with that man, while we wait for Jenessa. Haven’t you seen her? And have you been kind to him?’ ‘Who?’ Mîrhel huffed and started to pour her daughter a cup of tea. ‘That deputy of course!’ ‘Yes, though he was a bit persistent and wouldn’t leave me alone.’ Brea said. Her mother rewarded her with a bright smile. ‘Good girl. We have to keep those people on our side, so make sure you always behave impeccably towards them.’

Brea couldn’t promise she’d do that if the guy became too friendly, but she gave her mother an assuring nod anyway. ‘I will, mother. Where’s Jen again?’ ‘Your sister’s name is still Jenessa.’ Mother scolded her eldest daughter, though with a smile. ‘She went looking for you, to make sure you’d be back for tea. Maybe she got lost, or she bumped into that Alfredo, just like you did… Goodness, nothing would have happened to her, would it?’ Brea licked her lips and for a moment she pondered the possibilities where Jen might be. Then she remembered something Alfrid had mentioned. Her heart skipped a beat.

‘Mother, I know where she might be.’ Brea said breathlessly. ‘Where?’ Mîrhel demanded. ‘Tell me at once, then we can send Catherine out and fetch her before the tea is cold. CATHERINE!’ They heard some shuffling and a loud clang in the kitchen, before poor Catherine hastened through the hall towards the Missus. She shyly prodded her head around the corner into the reading room. ‘You called, Missus?’ ‘Yes. Can you fetch Jenessa for me? She’s at-’ Mother paused and glanced at her eldest daughter. ‘Brea?’ ‘Bard the bargeman, though I’m not sure.’ ‘Who is that?’ Mîrhel demanded. ‘Do we know him?’ Brea shrugged and Catherine merely bowed before retreating. ‘I will get her at once, Missus.’ Brea took a sip of her tea and grimaced as she burned her tongue. It would take at least twenty minutes before she could drink the beverage properly. ‘Mother…’ she tried. ‘Since the tea is still boiling hot and Catherine should be preparing our meals, shall I collect Jen for you?’ ‘Are you exploiting your newly found freedom, darling?’ ‘Maybe.’ Brea said truthfully. ‘Or maybe I’m just trying to help. You know father hates it when he has to wait for dinner.’ ‘That seems like a fair remark.’ Mother pondered. ‘And to reward your thoughtfulness, I will allow you to go. But before you do, you have to make me a few promises.’ ‘Yes, mother.’ Brea beamed. ‘Anything.’ ‘You go straight to wherever your little sister is, fetch her and then come directly home.’ ‘Yes, mother.’ ‘No funny business. No snooping around other places.’ ‘Yes, mother.’ ‘And no flirting with young men.’ Mîrhel demanded. ‘Not even Alfredo.’ ‘You mean Alfrid?!’ Brea cried. ‘Mother! Why would I even-’ Her mother shook her head. ‘I have to make sure, Brea. You have proven yourself to be far more cunning than your father and I could ever have imagined. I don’t want you to drag our reputation down the drain once again, not even in this wretched town.’ ‘MOTHER!’ ‘Don’t use such a tone against me, young lady.’ Mîrhel rebuked. ‘Now go, before our servant-’ A strangled groan erupted from her throat when the front door fell shut. ‘There she goes, poor lass. Hurry, Brea…’

Thus Brea set out once again on the same route, but this time she passed the market place instead of venturing left. After inquiring at a tapestry stand, Brea learned that Bard lived in the northern part of the city. The merchant told her that if she turned left before the town’s hall canal and kept walking straight ahead to the outskirt of the city, she’d find the bargeman’s home.

So with those instructions in mind, Brea walked around the market water until the town’s hall and the canal that laid before it came into view. Brea halted and glanced over her surroundings before taking a left turn. The waterway that ran along the right side of this particular quay was much smaller and the various boats that were docked here made it even more narrow. In order to inspect the homes that stood directly on her left, Brea slowed her pace. The people living on the right had built small, wooden bridges allowing them pass the canal to their home safely. Brea enjoyed the various wooden carvings adorning both the homes and bridges. She was told that at some point, the water would broaden into open water and the bargeman’s home lied directly behind this small square. Furthermore, she would have to enter a few steps leading up to a blue front door, that would appear on her left and it was described to have a diamond shaped window in it.

It didn’t take her long to find the house. Brea took the flight of stairs and the door was there, but when her fist reached for the hard wood, she noticed her hand was trembling.

In fact, her whole body was. Her heart hammered in her chest and Brea was sure that the people inside this home could hear it slamming. Her breathing was shallow, like she ran all the way here like a- Oh, stop it! She gritted her teeth, mentally scolding herself for being such a lightheaded, foolish girl. What made her believe that this handsome bargeman she just got acquainted with, lived here? For all she knew, there could live two Bard’s in this town. Furthermore, if Bard turned out to be the one she though he was, he was said to have children so there probably was a wife in his life. In any case, he wouldn’t be interested in a girl like her.

And with that, she knocked firmly on the wooden door.

The first thing she noticed, were his eyes.

Bard the bargeman easily possessed the most gorgeous hazelnut coloured eyes she’d ever seen. Brea’s breath hitched as she took in the man who was standing in the door opening. He had dark, messy hair that was kept out of his face with a string of cloth at the back of his head. His fine cheekbones were distracting and though Brea usually wasn’t that fond of moustaches and soul patches, somehow this man’s carefully trimmed facial hair made him only more desirable. The greying hair at his temples betrayed the fact he must be well in his thirties.

He was wearing sturdy brown boots adorned with fur, black breeches, a light brown woollen tunic and a long, leather coat in a slightly darker shade. The woollen tunic had a low v-neckline, showing some chest hair and the grey undergarment he was wearing underneath. Her thighs clenched and Brea bit her lip. Goodness, she hoped she wasn’t showing her desires too much… How was this possible anyway? Before, there had only been one man who had made her feel like this, but she was still mourning him. How could another stir the same in her to the point she was just staring at him like he was a piece of fine meat?

Though there was no denying that in fact, he was. How rude of her…

‘Oh.’ Bard murmured as he took her in just as she had done. For a second he looked more alarmed and flustered than anything, but that expression faded quickly and was replaced with a smug smile. ‘Miss Brea.’ He greeted her. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure of encountering you on my doorstep?’ ‘Just Brea is fine, master Bard.’ She replied, a little out of breath. ‘I apologize for disturbing you, but I’m looking for my sister. A little worm told me she was forming rather unsavoury relations. When I asked him what he meant, he pointed me in the direction of your home.’ Bard grinned. ‘Unsavoury relations? Why would he think that?’ ‘The real question is what you have done to make him hate you.’ Brea mused. ‘I might need your advice on that matter.’ He stepped aside and motioned for Brea to come in. ‘Ah, yes. He was quite determined this afternoon, wasn’t he?’ ‘That’s an understatement.’ She said. ‘Is he always like that?’ ‘Yes, though women in this town know him too well to let him come close like you did.’ Brea placed her hands on her hips and eyed him defiantly. ‘I’m capable of handling myself, thank you very much.’ The bargeman chuckled. ‘I didn’t say you couldn’t. But you were too polite to him today.’ Brea smiled sweetly and stepped over the threshold. Bard’s home wasn’t as big as theirs, but it was a cosy one. A grand table and two benches dominated the middle of the room. Directly on Brea’s left was a wooden staircase that led a level down. In the far left corner of the room stood a bed that could fit at least three people. At Brea’s right, stood a small kitchen where two girls were busying themselves.

‘Any tips for when I have to keep him at armlength tomorrow during dinner at the master’s home?’ she asked Bard, giving him a teasing glance. He winced. ‘Are you sure you want to enter the dragon’s lair?’ ‘I’ve heard there lives a dragon in that mountain, is that-’

‘Oh! That stupid dinner! I forgot about that!’ her sister’s voice squeaked. Brea turned on her heels and discovered her sister, Jenessa. The raven haired girl with the most beautiful mahogany toned skin erupted from the kitchen, wearing mittens. Her dark eyes were sparkling with joy. She obviously had been preparing something with the other girls before Brea came in. The two girls had to be sisters, as both of them had dark blonde hair, blue eyes and the same facial expressions.

‘Hey Bree!’ Jenessa beamed. Brea heaved a sigh. ‘Jen, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? And it’s not a stupid dinner, it’s a necessary evil.’ ‘You don’t make it sound any better, Bree.’ Her sister grinned. Brea groaned and turned to Bard. ‘I’m so sorry. Jenessa can sometimes be oblivious to social conventions and overstay her welcome-’ Bard shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile that did send a pleasant jolt through her abdomen. ‘It’s fine, really. In fact, we’re happy she’s here. My eldest daughter, Sigrid, was planning on making apple pie and she happened to come across your sister at the market.’ ‘She was lost.’ Sigrid filled in with a grin. Jenessa cried indignantly. ‘Was not!’ ‘You were!’ The youngest sister chortled. ‘You were looking rather sad.’ Brea’s little sister heaved a sigh. ‘Fine. I was lost. Happy?’ ‘We won’t tease you too much with it, promised.’ Sigrid giggled. ‘But only after we have found out if your addition to ma’s recipe is a success.’ ‘It surely smells delicious!’ The little sister proclaimed. ‘That’s Tilda.’ Bard informed Brea with a fond smile. ‘She’s my youngest.’ Sigrid gave Tilda a few plates from the rack that stood on the counter. ‘Right Tilly, can you set the table for six?’ The girl nodded and set out to work. ‘I’ll boil some water for the tea.’ Jenessa said happily. Brea watched as the girls bustled around her and Jen, accepting these strangers in their midst easily and entertaining them with their cheerful banter. She turned to Bard, who was eyeing the scene as well, an amused expression adorning his face.

‘I am so sorry my little sister bashed into your home.’ Brea whispered. ‘The trick is not to encourage her, because she will to take over your whole household.’ ‘At least she can’t be worse than Alfrid, can she?’ Bard said casually and Brea suppressed a snort.

‘What is she saying?’ Jen demanded noisily as she put the pie on the table. ‘Is she trying to be the responsible, older sister again?’ ‘That’s my job.’ Brea told her. ‘Especially when you are misbehaving.’ ‘Am I? Shall I inform master Bard about your indiscretions in Minas Tirith, Bree?’ Jen inquired with a wide grin. ‘Please don’t.’ Brea warned. ‘Or I’ll have to beg mother to trade you for another, more grateful adoptive sister.’ ‘She’s adopted?’ Bard asked with a frown. ‘Her parents were friends with mine.’ Brea explained. ‘When they died thirteen years ago, my parents took Jen in.’ ‘And she regrets that decision every day!’ Jen complained as she was guarding the kettle until it would start to boil. Behind her, Sigrid grabbed six mugs from the cupboard and a tin containing dried tea leaves. Brea crossed her arms and watched her sister with narrowed eyes. ‘Jen, please tell this poor family you are joking!’

‘Da!’ Someone ran up the stairs and a few moments later, a teenage boy with dark hair and the same dark eyes as his father came into view. ‘I finished fixing the nets.’ He stopped in his tracks and eyed the newcomer curiously. ‘Who’s this?’ ‘Brea, this is my son Bain.’ Bard said. ‘Bain, this is miss Brea, miss Jenessa’s sister.’ ‘Oh, hello.’ The boy replied, suddenly a bit nervously. He quickly turned on his heels and stumbled down the stairs again. ‘Nice to meet you!’ Brea called after him. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s up with him these days.’ Bard murmured. ‘He’ll come around.’ ‘Don’t worry about it.’

Once everything was all set, the Bardlings took their place around the table and even Jenessa settled rather quickly as if she already belonged there. Brea stood there, a bit unsure what to do, until Bard turned and sent her a smile. ‘Will you join us, miss Brea?’ he inquired gently, gesturing at the place on the other end of the table.

Brea knew that she should have said no. She should have told them that mother was waiting for her and Jen to return, but… Brea’s brain seemed to have forgotten that information. She couldn’t remember a damn thing, only the fact that those gorgeous dark eyes were pleading her to stay, offering her a place at his table. And the best thing about that, was that there was no wife in sight. So her lips had formed the words before she could even stop herself from saying it. ‘Yes, please.’

Thank you so much for reading my humble story. Feedback is always welcome. Did you like my work? Spread the love and reblog! :) And here’s my Masterlist.

#the hobbit #bard the bowman #bard the dragonslayer #bard the bargeman #bard the bowman x oc #bard the dragonslayer x oc #bard the bargeman x oc #bard x oc #bard x reader #bard x brea #a tale as old as time #the hobbit fanfic #bard the bowman fanfiction #xxbyimm writes

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the-desolated-quill · 4 years

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It’s Summer And We’re Running Out Of Ice - Watchmen (TV Series) blog

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. if you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

I’m not going to lie. I was incredibly sceptical going into this. This isn’t the first TV adaptation of a classic novel to go beyond the source material and try to continue the story, and they nearly always suck (see The Handmaid’s Tale and The Man In The High Castle). There’s a reason why books end where they’re supposed to end. If the author intended to carry the story on, they would have done so. This is why I get angry when the TV industry arrogantly oversteps the mark and try to continue a plot that has already come to a satisfactory conclusion. Doing a sequel to Watchmen, a story that hinges on the ambiguity of its ending, is just utter madness to me, and allowing Damon Lindelof to write that sequel borders on moronic at first glance. This is the man behind the TV series Lost, a show that ran out of steam within the first couple of episodes due to the fact that the plot was complete and total bollocks and the fact that nobody could be bothered to come up with satisfying answers for these ludicrous mysteries and series arcs beforehand. They were just making that shit up as he went along. Now you’re handing Lindelof the keys to one of the most intricate and detailed comic book properties of all time?! Fuck, why don’t you just let JJ Abrams direct the next Star Wars mo- Oh yeah, I forgot, he already did that.

Thankfully, judging by this first episode anyway, HBO’s Watchmen is nowhere near as bad as Lost. It’s certainly far more engaging and coherent. Does that mean I’m looking forward to the rest of this season? Well... I don’t know if I’d go that far. I’m definitely intrigued though.

HBO’s Watchmen is a sequel to the graphic novel (Lindelof called it a remix, but come on. Grow a pair and call it what it is. A sequel). Superheroes are still illegal, Robert Redford is now the President, Rorschach’s death has inspired a white supremacist cult, and it’s raining squid.

Yeah, the raining squid thing feels like the only egregious bit of fanwank in here, to be fair. Maybe they’re going somewhere with this, but I have my doubts. Are we supposed to assume that Ozymandias has been making squid rain for the past thirty odd years in order to keep up the whole alien invasion ruse? Why squid rain? And why is everyone so nonchalant about it? Shouldn’t people be just a bit concerned by this, considering what happened in New York?

Speaking of Ozymandias, we see him riding a horse and writing plays for his butler and maid in some fancy mansion. Quite what the significance of The Watchmaker’s Son is, I don’t know. All I do know is I’m not going to be able to sleep at night without thinking about Jeremy Irons’ thighs from now on, so thanks for that.

Putting my cynicism aside for a moment, I do like what Lindelof is trying to do here. He’s not merely cashing in on the Watchmen brand. There is a genuine effort to do something fresh and different with this material, and I commend that. Watchmen’s central theme has always been about power, but whereas the source material focused mainly on its relation to sex (Comedian’s hedonism, Nite Owl’s impotence, Rorschach’s mummy issues and the sexual objectification of Silk Spectre), the TV series seems to be zeroing in on race as a topic. This I applaud. Expanding on certain areas that the graphic novel only ever really touched upon is a great idea. This doesn’t feel like a repeat of the graphic novel, but rather a clarification of it, exploring areas and themes that Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons may have overlooked. This helps set this series apart from the outset.

The opening scenes where we see the Tulsa Massacre of 1921 is a pretty harrowing way to start. I’m ashamed to say I had no idea about the Tulsa Massacre prior to this, and we could have a whole other discussion about why schools seem to have been avoiding teaching specific topics like this in favour of the broad strokes of the Jim Crow era, but now is not the time. The fact that it’s depicted here sets the stage for what’s to come. Some have criticised the show for the length of time the opening focuses on Tulsa, claiming that it sensationalises the pain of black people at that time. I personally don’t think it does. It’s not overly graphic or gratuitous, at least in my opinion, but it is a very shocking way to open a series. Some might say even upsetting, but I think it’s important that we saw this because it’s relevant in setting the tone for the episode and indeed the season as a whole, as well as letting the audience know that this show isn’t going to fuck around or shy away from more sensitive topics, and I can respect that. Unlike Zack Snyder’s overly stylised adaptation from 2009, Watchmen the HBO series is grounded very firmly in reality.

Let’s discuss characters. This episode mostly focuses on Angela Abar, also known as Sister Night. Regina King has given some terrific performances in the past and this is no exception. She’s simply phenomenal. The way she switches from light-hearted wife and baker to violent, no nonsense vigilante cop. The shift is noticeable and yet both personas feel like they’re aspects of the same character. It’s exceptionally good. It also helps that the character herself makes for a great protagonist. Having survived the ‘White Night’ four years prior, where the Seventh Kavalry attacked the families of forty Tulsa police officers in response to the government giving special reparations to the victims of racial injustice, Angela has become cynical and battle hardened. She has no sympathy for Kavlary members and is willing to skip due process by beating one of them to a pulp and bundling him in the back of her car. She’s angry and in pain, and yet retains the audience's sympathy. I’m interested to see what happens to her over the course of the season.

I also really liked her friendship with Don Johnson’s character Judd Crawford. Johnson is a charismatic performer and Crawford is a charismatic character. He really dives into the olde western sheriff persona and seems to be having a lot of fun with it. Crawford is the only other character, besides Angela, who stayed on as a police officer after the White Night, and the two characters seem to have a great relationship. They laugh and joke around and there’s clearly a mutual respect between the two. I genuinely like this character, which is what makes his murder at the end so much more heartbreaking. Not to mention all the little details that force us to realise he may not be what he seems. We see him sniff cocaine in private and there’s a photo on his desk featuring the kid from school who aggressively asked Angela why black people deserve reparations. It doesn’t necessarily mean that Crawford himself is racist, but there’s clearly more going on with him that we don’t know about.

The final character of interest at the moment is Tim Blake Nelson’s character Wade Tillman, aka Looking Glass. We don’t know anything about him yet other than he’s a human lie detector, which I find very intriguing and I hope will be explored further as the show goes on. There’s a lot to play around with there, and the moral implications are tantalising. A conviction based not on physical evidence, but rather on the observations of one man. Even Sherlock Holmes has to back his deductions up with evidence, and yet Looking Glass clearly doesn’t need to. That just raises so many ethical questions. What if he has a particular bias towards someone? What about burden of proof? What if forensic evidence contradicts him? If Looking Glass is supposedly that accurate, does that mean the police will side with him regardless? It’s a great premise for a character and I really like Nelson’s performance, giving him a cold and detached personality that contrasts beautifully with Angela’s.

The characters and ideas are solid, however where I feel the show is lacking is with the consistency of its world building. Let’s analyse. This is an alternate history where Nixon used superheroes to extend his term limits, but after the New York attack at the end of the graphic novel, he’s been kicked out in favour of Robert Redford (nice nod to the source material there by the way. lol). As a result, black people got reparations for the racial injustices their ancestors went through and police are now unable to openly carry firearms without special permission from Panda (literally a cop wearing a panda costume). However, after the events of White Night, the government agrees to allow cops to wear masks to protect their identities, hence why quote/unquote ‘superheroes’ like Sister Night and Looking Glass are around despite the existence of the Keene Act. These are, in effect, legal vigilantes. Except already there’s a problem with conflicting messages. I like the idea of masked cops. In the current age of Black Lives Matter and police accountability, it makes sense and could be interesting to explore. However this is hindered by the whole ‘no guns’ stuff. Again, not a bad idea. America’s current gun laws are, to put it mildly, woefully inadequate. What if we went the other way? What if not only was it near impossible to own a gun, cops couldn’t even use a taser without special permission. Both ideas could work... but not at the same time.

Cops being allowed to wear masks creates the effect of empowering them through anonymity, and runs the risk of officers overstepping the mark and normal citizens being unable to hold them to account. But on the other hand, we’ve also got cops whose lives are constantly at risk and who are hindered in their duties by an overprotective nanny state, which effectively depowers them. So... which is it? It can’t be both. I like the scene where Panda reads the law about how the use of firearms can only be permitted in extreme circumstances, and everyone just angrily shouts him down because it tells us how the police feel about this new system. The fact that they’ve made one cop the sole arbiter of these new restrictions and forced him to dress like some ridiculous furry demonstrates the sheer amount of disdain they have towards this policy. But having said that, with the masks on, they have the power and freedom to break into people’s caravans and basically kidnap and assault them without consequence anyway. So what the fuck are they complaining about? It just doesn’t gel together. Either have it that the rules and regulations of the police are the same as our world except that cops can wear masks now, which has led to an increasing problem of police brutality and corruption, or have it that the police are being too heavily restricted and so a few have chosen to turn toward more ‘unorthodox’ methods of crime fighting out of frustration. Pick one and go with it.

Then there’s the Seventh Kavalry. Again, not a bad idea. In fact I love it. A white supremacist cult that’s taken Rorschach’s journal as gospel and have banded together out of a fear of being sidelined in a more liberal world. Very relevant and very interesting. Except... well... there’s not an awful lot to it, is there? In the original graphic novel, there was no clear bad guy. Ozymandias believed he was doing the ultimate good by killing millions of people to save the world, and everyone reluctantly went along with it. It was morally complicated. This, not so much. They’re unambiguously evil. The end. So what? What is there to discuss? It just feels lacking compared to the graphic novel and it runs the risk of creating a conflict that’s too clear cut. Obviously we’re going to end up siding with the cops, regardless of what they do, because the alternative is objectively bad. Hopefully Lindelof is going somewhere with this, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t say I was slightly concerned.

So on the whole, would I say I enjoyed this first episode? Well... I’d say I did, but with reservations. There’s some good characters and ideas that could be interesting to explore and develop, but its execution feels a little shaky in places. Hopefully the episodes to come will offer further clarity.

#it's summer and we're running out of ice #watchmen #watchmen hbo #damon lindelof #dc #hbo #review #spoilers

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finleyjayne · 4 years

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You Should Care

Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

1000 Follower Celebration for @justkending! Happy Birthday~ Thank you for being so welcoming to me. Also, like really hope this doesn’t disappoint.

Text Prompt: “Yeah, go write me a 1000 page essay on it, and maybe I’ll care.”

Warnings: swearing, mild angst.

Summary: You have had enough of Steve overlooking your advice when it comes to reconstruction after his many exploits with the Avengers because you are his girlfriend. So you come up with a plan, and, with Pepper Potts help, you are going to put a solution into place. Hopefully, you can convince him that you know what you’re doing.

There was a definite divide between Captain and Steve in your relationship. It was always there, and usually, there wasn't a problem. It's important to compartmentalize when it comes to personal and work matters, but sometimes... sometimes, you just wish that he would see you as more than just his girlfriend.

Honestly, you have credentials that shouldn't be taken for granted. You had worked in war zones as a medic and relief co-ordinator. This made it increasingly difficult to accept that your sweet and caring Steve wouldn't listen to you when you brought his attention to the increasing disregard for the citizens the Avengers try to protect.

Sometimes his tactics take no consideration to the refugees that will be displaced. People who never ask for the battles to be fought near their homes. They never wanted to be there. They want to live their lives, go to work, go home, spend time with friends. Captain, doesn't see that. He sees an objective and one way to get it done. Determined to do the right thing, even if it leaves the people there worse for wear.

The last time you brought it to his attention, there was nothing that could convince him that there needed to be something to help out after. Nothing that could keep him from doing what he could to take down the HYDRA base, screw the consequences. Even when it meant destroying one of the only schools in the area. He dared to have the gall to say, "well, I know that they need the help, but I don't know how you expect us to do anymore. There isn't anything that you can expect from us."

You couldn't take it anymore. If Captain America wouldn't change his tactics, you would change yours. After all, he did make a good point, there is only so much a single, lone soldier can do.

So here you are, walking up the front steps of Stark Enterprises to talk to not only Captain Rogers but also his team and CEO Virginia "Pepper" Potts. Taking a deep breath to force yourself to focus, you walk through the doors to start going through the heavy security of the tower. Finally, using the clearance that Steve had you get so that you could come to see him if, read when, he gets injured.

Now though, he doesn't know you're coming, you are on my own personal mission, and he will NOT be stopping you. He will not ignore you this time. There will be no shutting you out. You are going to make sure that no more innocent people will take the brunt of the Avengers' crime-fighting. There needs to be some type of clean up crew that comes in after the fact to give these people the medical, emotional, and technological help to reconstruct the people's lives after they are hit as collateral damage.

You already know what half of them are going to say. The outlook is bright in this going in your favor, but honestly, there are no reasonable excuses. They may save the world but, if they aren't careful, they may end up breaking it in the process. People are going to start revolting against their help. You want to prevent that, and this plan is just one step in that direction. They do good, but they need to be a little better at managing collateral damage. You know for a fact that the PR department of Stark tech has been up their asses about it. It's one of the main things Steve complains about after his rarely-talked-about missions.

Sighing, you walk into the elevator. "Hello, Future Mrs. Rogers, I take it you are here to see Mr. Rogers?"

"No, Jarvis, I am actually here for my meeting with Ms. Potts and the Team," you state, rolling my eyes at Tony's inability to call me my name, even through his AI. "Will you take me to floor 39? And don't let Captain Rogers know I am here, please."

"No problem, Miss. I will envoke Ice Out Capcicle Protocol 7."

Head held high, you give a slight nod. No time to dwell on the fact that Tony programmed a protocol to keep someone from running into Steve at the moment. You don't even know if you want to know why it needed to be coded.

Stepping off the elevator, you are met by the glorious visage that is Pepper Potts. From her perfectly-quaffed hair to the stylish yet functional clothing, her appearance practically screams I have authority, do as I say.

You give her a timid smile, "Ms. Potts, Thank you for seeing me today. I hope this meeting goes as well as you lead me to believe it would."

"{Y/N}, as I've told you before, call me Pepper. I read your proposal, and honestly, I have been looking for a fix to this problem ever since Tony came out with his alias as Iron Man. It's as if you could read my mind. Now, all we have to do is make the team aware."

Your smile grew more genuine, "Well then, we still have a whole battle in front of us. God only knows what the Captain will think when he knows that I've been working on this. He can be such an old man sometimes."

"Well, even if he complains, he knows full well that this is what you have been trained to do. That's more than he can say about his own beginning." Pepper says with a mischievous smirk.

"Well, let's get this battle underway, why don't we?" you answer, already looking forward to this presentation being over.

Going into the meeting room, you take your place at the head of the table, setting your briefcase down. "Jarvis, can you bring up the folder ARF onto the Holoscreen?"

"Of course, Miss." Was the prompt reply. Soon following, a set of photos, pie charts, graphs, and other little snippets projecting into the air above the table. "The team will be arriving in the next five minutes, along with Director Fury. Would you like anything else in the meantime?"

"Thank you, Jarvis. I don't think I need anything else." You say.

"Jarvis, is Tony's lab still on lockdown from this morning?" Pepper asked from her seat to the right. Her eyes still scanning over something on her StarkPad.

"Yes, Ms. Potts, he is on his way."

"Good." Right as she responds, the majority of the team comes in taking their preferred seats around the table. Their faces show a mix of curiosity, suspicion, and confusion at seeing me there.

Steeling my nerves as best you can, you stand going through the photos and graphs, ordering them for later reference and shrinking them so that they are out of the way until you need them. Chatter fills the room as their conversations continue. With a faint smile, you look up to watch Steve and Tony walk into the room, followed by a cantankerous Director Fury.

With one look, Steve smirks. "Hi, honey, I didn't expect you to visit today."

You smile, "Yeah, I have a meeting for that new project I've been working on." His eyes flash with confusion as he opens his mouth. Before he can speak, you cut him off, "Welcome, General Ross, it's good that you could make it. Now that everyone is here, we can start." Hopefully, Steve didn't ruin this.

"Thank you for having me, Ms. Potts said that you had a solution to some of our concerns?" His brow scrunches in concern as he folds his arms over his chest.

"Indeed, she has. {Y/N} has been a lifesaver with a new project that Stark Industries is undertaking to proactively increase the security of the world's opinions on the Avengers. It will also help with reconstruction after world catastrophes like the Invasion of New York, should something like that happen again." Pepper explains, "Not to mention, it will be a big help to the Avengers PR team."

You give Pepper a thankful smile before turning to start the meeting only to have my mouth filled with Tony's voice.

"Wait? Roger's Housewife is the Humanitarian Aide-specialist you've been talking to and raving about for the past month? Really?" Tony barks as you smirk, finding his eyes shine with intrigue as he looks you over.

"Tony, your misogyny is showing," Natasha probes with an eye-roll.

"But she..."

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Mr. Stark. Anyway, as Ms. Potts was saying, I've noticed a negative trend, and I want to help." Flicking your hand, you shower the table with images of towns, both before and after Avengers' battles have taken place near, or in them. "The Avengers do essential work, but every time there is a battle or an operation, many innocent people are harmed or injured. People that don't have anything to do with the conflict. Some of those people will never be able to save themselves from the devastation that has been rained down around them. Between the buildings that have been crushed, the people who are injured, and the emotional and mental trauma that comes from not being safe in your own home, full economies have collapsed. As of right now, there is nothing in place to clean up after the Avengers take down whatever big bad comes out of the shadows."

Looking around, you see the director is following along with a skeptical look, Natasha is smirking like she already knew what you were going to say and approved. Clint is wholly zoned out; upon further inspection, you see his hearing aids on the table. Tony is glaring, probably thinking about his own solutions to the problem, while Rhodey is smiling in encouragement. Skimming over the rest, your eyes catch Steve's glower. Notably pissed at you for bringing this up in a more formal environment.

"That is where I come in. As some of you know, I used to be a wartime medic, and as Mr. Stark has previously stated, I am now a certified Humanitarian Aide Specialist. It used to be my job to take care of the people displaced by wars like those in the Middle East. In my time there, I have been able to help many people by rebuilding their little pieces of the world. I have put together a team of Medics, Contractors, Therapists, Teachers, Farmers, and others to go in after the Avengers to play clean up. To make it so that we don't cause more harm than good. To keep us as the good guys in people's eyes."

After you were done speaking, the room was silent. You met their eyes, keeping your breath even as you waited to be interrupted. After a few beats, you realized that they were all intently listening, even Steve looked like he was listening intently to your compromise.

You have to swallow the lump in your throat before speaking, "The first response team consists of Trauma Specialists with field medic experience lead by myself. Along with a crew of Hotshots and Firefighters. The secondary response depends on what is needed, all focusing on rebuilding affected infrastructures and betterment within the economies of these countries. They will be working with the respective governments to help not only restore but also improve upon what was lost. I recruited them from many places. Most of them are personal contacts from my time overseas and locally. All of them are cleared by both Jarvis' background check and SHEILD's screening. I don't know if this is going to work, but I cannot stand aside and let you devastate the lives of any more innocent people without at least trying to help."

Taking a deep breath, you look up into their faces. Their expressions were a mixed bag of emotions. Pepper was smiling at me encouragingly as the rest of the Avengers' faces seemed very accepting of this proposal, Rhodey, Natasha, and Tony looked the most impressed. Steve was glowering at a graph set hovering by his seat, trying to figure out exactly how bad he should feel for ignoring your expertise. Fury was the only one who seemed unsold on the benefits of this situation.

"And why exactly should I be interested in this, Ms. {Y/L/N}. From what you've said so far, none of this concerns SHIELD or the work that they do.

"Well sir, although they are an independent organization, they do tend to reflect on the world's view of America-"

"- I am a very busy man and don't have time for this. Write me a 1000 page essay on it, and maybe I'll care." Fury interrupted.

"One step ahead of you. Here is my thesis on defense by building infrastructure. A 1,297 word debrief on why you should give this your stamp of approval and help. And finally, A contract with stark enterprises to co-operate and co-fund ARF or the Avenger Relief Foundation. Already gone over by Agent Hill, all you have to do is sign it." You calmly reply, sliding him a folder of the stated documents on top of a bound copy of your thesis.

Fury glowers at you through his one healthy eye. "Well, I see you've done the leg work. I'll give it a once over and be back with you." He grumbles, grabbing the folder and leaving the thesis. "I don't have time for that." He calls over his shoulder on his way out the door.

"Well, whether or not fury gives his okay on this project, Stark Industries has already started preparations to pick up and implement the ideas you've presented to us, {Y/N}." Pepper states. "I look forward to working with you and can't wait to see your successes."

With that, everyone nodded, giving their congratulations and well wishes. Leaving just you and Steve, who is still enraptured in the data you had put together.

Unwilling to start this conversation, you walk around the conference table to pick up the thesis.

"I owe you an apology, {Y/N}," Steve stated.

You look at him through your lashes at the corner of your eye. "What exactly for, Captain?" you ask, busying yourself with your briefcase as he stood there looking apologetically at you.

"You were right, I just didn't want to listen. I didn't want you to be right because it would mean that for the last couple of years, I've been ignoring the people I've vowed to protect." He says, going back to looking at the images still being projected over the space. "I am sorry that I didn't listen to you when you told me that there were ways to change. I still don't really like the idea of you putting yourself into more danger, but I can see why we need this. I am proud of you for following your heart." Steve says, looking at you, earnestness filling his blue eyes.

"You did save them from the big bad, and sometimes it's harder to admit we are wrong than we would like it to be. I forgive you, but next time I say something, at least try to be open. I may act like your typical 50's Housewife, but I can assure you I will kick your ass. We are a team, I am here to help you, just as much as you are here for me." You tell him as you come over to him, brushing your arm down his arm sweetly.

" How did I get to be such a lucky man?" He asks, giving you a dopey grin.

"You didn't do anything. You are just Steve. Now that I know you aren't going to skin me alive for fighting this battle, do you wanna go out to lunch?" You blush, picking up your briefcase.

"Whatever you want, sugar. I gotta show the world how beautiful and smart my best girl is. I mean, she is going to save the world, one village at a time." Steve says, wrapping you in his giant arms.

#justkendingwritingchallenge #steve x reader #protective steve rogers #Steve Rogers #stevexreader #my first reader insert #fins reads #fins' fic recs #fins' recs #fins recs fics #fanfiction #fic reblog

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arukou-arukou · 5 years

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@katofrafters suggested: “Yo, I always endorse body swaps. Avengers clumsily attempting to fight some ridiculous evil while wearing each other’s bodies sounds spectacular, honestly.” and @musicalluna suggested: “body swap, Steve experiencing the arc reactor.” There’s a little more of the second prompt than the first, but here you go!

Rated T

Hints of pre-relationship Steve/Tony, but the focus is more on Steve experiencing Tony’s body.

Warnings: Some non-sexual nudity. Language.

---

Steve loves Thor, but some days, he thinks the trouble that comes with Asgardians isn’t quite worth the friendship. Not most days. But days like today, days when the Enchantress is rampaging through lower Manhattan flipping green sparks at anyone who catches her eye to disastrous consequences, these days he thinks he’d let Thor go if it meant he didn’t have to explain to the authorities that those dinosaurs are civilians and they are not to be shot. It would be one thing if she were only turning people into animals, but today it seems like Enchantress took a shot of extra spite with her morning coffee, because on the next block, she’s switched to mermaids. There are crowds of civilians flopping feebly on the ground, staring in disbelief at their fishy lower halves or begging for water. Some of the octo-people are more mobile and trying to help, but it’s not nearly enough. The block after that is what appears to be a rain of goo. And then after that is a plague of boils.

And worse, none of the Avengers seem able to catch up with her. She is at a fixed distance from them, always receding. Even when Tony deploys at Mach I, which he tries to avoid in the city, he doesn’t get any closer. Instead, they’re left with a rain of shattered glass and another massive bill in property damage that Steve is sure he’s going to love explaining to the mayor, the feds, and Fury. He’s really starting to lose his patience.

“Thor, could you maybe, I don’t know, think of something?” There’s not much of Manhattan left before Enchantress reaches open water and the idea of her getting away… Steve grits his teeth and pumps his legs harder, fruitlessly.

“Amora! Please, these people have done you no wrong! Your quarrel is with me! If you must punish someone, am I not the one who should bear the brunt of your wrath.”

Fuck, Steve thinks, even as Hawkeye says it aloud. Amora laughs, hair tossing in the wind. “Well, since you put it that way.” She flips her fingers at them and green light encircles, engulfs, consumes.

(THERE IS A READ MORE)

Steve blinks desperately to clear the spots only to realize he can’t clear away these lights. There are so many. Everywhere. All at once. And shouting in his ear. He’s so discombobulated and a bolt of fear jolts through him for the other members of his team. “Widow? Hawkeye? Does anybody copy?”

“Copy, Tony,” says Thor. Then, “What the fuck?” The swear jar is going to be getting a lot fuller soon, because echoes of filthy disbelief sound down the lines of the coms. Steve himself realizes his voice is off. And as he comes to his senses, he also realizes the lights blinking in front of him are the HUD from the Iron Man suit. And dead ahead is a building, closing fast. He has no idea how to steer himself, but if he doesn’t do something… He throws his hands forward and tries to swivel his hips into it, too, and that does stop him, but it also sends him twirling end over end backwards. The horizon line on the HUD spins wildly and spots dance in front of his eyes.

“Tony!” Too late. He crashes into pavement, the shock reverberating up and down his spin and ribs. Holy shit. Ears ringing, head spinning, body aching, Steve stops struggling and waits for it all to end. He has a sneaking suspicion about what’s happened, though he doesn’t want to believe it. He wants to wake up back in his bed at five in the morning and have this all have been a horrible dream.

But then there it is. His own face hovering over him. “Cap, I presume?”

“Uhhhhh.”

“Yeah. Thought so.”

There’s Thor, but his normally jovial face is pinched and hard, while Nat is looking bewildered and frustrated. Hulk is…standing with a cocked hip, idly tossing a stone the size of a human head, while Clint looks furious, teeth gritted and arms bulging as he flexes them.

“Amora’s gone,” Not-Steve says. “Apparently this was the icing on her little tantrum cake.”

“T…Tony?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Fuck me,” Steve groans, dropping his head back.

“Language,” they all say automatically, and he groans again. Yes. He would really like to wake up right about now.

After a tumble like this, Tony normally gets right up again, but Steve’s having a hard time figuring out how he gets himself up. His back is throbbing and the ringing in his head seems like it’ll be sticking around for a while. On top of all that, he’s still not sure how to operate the suit. He can feel what seem like little pads or buttons against his fingers and toes, and that’s a weird feeling, too, that neoprene jumpsuit Tony wears when he has time to suit up for a call. Steve feels practically naked, even though he’s in a 400-pound suit of armor. Tony takes care of it, though.

“Captain Handsome 11-22-33-44-55,” he says, and the HUD flashes blue and clears of everything but vitals and sight lines. JARVIS intones “Captain America override initiated. Awaiting further instructions, Captain.”

“Fly Iron Steve back to the tower and disassemble him in the workshop on the apparatus table. Wait ‘til I get there before you initiate disassembly.”

“Understood, Captain.” And without Steve lifting a finger, the suit begins moving around him. It’s disconcerting and painful, having his limbs shifted in ways he didn’t intend. He tries to fight it at first, but that only makes his back ache all the more. Or rather, Tony’s back. Even though everything in his being wants to fight it, Steve forces himself to relax and go limp, letting the suit move him as it will. It stands, fires up the repulsors, and charts itself a course to the Tower, all without Steve’s input. It’s terrifying. Does Tony ever do this? Let JARVIS take the wheel? How does he stand it?

In a matter of minutes, he’s through one of Tony’s workshop entrances, laid out on a table, waiting to be “disassembled.” He shudders at the thought. He’s still on coms, though, so he can hear the team as they figure out how to maneuver the jet back. Hawkeye would normally pilot, but hulks hands are too big to easily handle the controls and they can’t quite figure out how to shrink him back into being Bruce’s size. He’s not uncontrollably raging, after all, so what might the trigger be? Bruce has calmed back into himself, but he’s deep breathing, trying to keep himself from panicking and “hulking” out in Hawkeye’s body. That could result in serious damage for Clint, especially if Hulk punches anything he’d normally punch as his big green self. That mean’s Nat’s piloting, but she’s having trouble with Thor’s bulk, too, and apparently it’s slow going. Tony is uncharacteristically silent.

It’s another fifteen minutes before Tony makes it to the workshop, tripping over his own feet the last few steps. Steve remembers what that was like. Tony’s not as small as Steve was pre-serum, but he’s still smaller, and Steve’s feet are…big. All of him is big and awkward, and it takes a while to get the hang of all that extra mass taking up space. But Tony’s genius brain is still the same as ever and upon his arrival, JARVIS complies with the second half of his orders, freeing Steve from the suit.

“Don’t get up just yet,” Tony says, walking past Steve to the fridge in the kitchenette in the corner. He comes back with ice packs, ace bandages, and a first-aid kit. “What hurts the worst?”

“Uh, back.”

“Okay. Do you think you can sit up?”

“Think so.”

Tony nods and Steve crunches his abs, trying to rise out of the shell of the suit. Holy hell, that is painful. Three inches up, Steve collapses back down. Ow. Ow ow ow.

“Right. J, help him up?” The suit, still open, sits itself up, pushing Steve with it, and then collapses back down. It happens so quickly Steve’s head starts spinning again.

“Might have a concussion,” he mutters, hand going to his forehead.

“Symptoms?”

“Head hurts. Spinning.”

“Well, what else is new.” It’s not a question. Tony says it like a fact, not like the jibe Steve might have read it as when they first met. “Anything else?”

“Back. Especially the ribs.”

“Ribs appear to be fractured, Captain,” JARVIS adds, his voice now overhead rather than coming from the suit. “Significant contusions on the left shoulder. I believe that is where Sir came down first.”

“Not Sir, J.”

There is a pause uncharacteristic of JARVIS’ usual whipfast retorts. “I’m sorry, Captain, could you repeat—“

“Amora switched us. Tony body, Steve brain, Steve body, Tony brain. The other Avengers, too. Were you not paying attention on coms?”

“I was not activated in the jet.” Which made sense. Clint usually flipped JARVIS on for co-pilot, but Nat was more weary, even after all these months living with the AI. “I have made note of the change, Sir. Apologies, Captain.”

“No problem, JARVIS. You had no way of knowing.”

Tony is staring down at a tablet, and when Steve catches a glimpse, he sees several readouts of Tony’s body. JARVIS has highlighted the ribs and shoulders in question, as well as the head region. “Chest hurts, too,” Steve says, nodding at the tablet.

“Huh?” Tony glances up. “Oh. That’s probably not from the fall. Sorry. You’ll just have to…” He fiddles his fingers vaguely and then turns to the kit, extracting a bottle of pills. “One advantage? If you can call it that. Painkillers are going to work for you. Congratulations. Eat up.” He rattles the bottle at Steve until he takes it, staring down at the little white caplets through the orange plastic.

Steve is about to take three white pills when he feels hands on him. He hadn’t even noticed Tony circling around. Is he always that quiet? He, Steve, not Tony. Tony is usually not quite at all. But now… There an air of apprehension around them, and Steve is trying to figure out exactly why Tony is holding back. But first—

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting you out of the flight suit. It’s insulated. The ice isn’t going to help much if you’ve got it on. And the zippers and hooks are tricky if you’re not used to it.”

Steve nods stiffly. He hadn’t exactly imagined this would be how Tony would first disrobe him, but what can you do? There’s the long growl of a zipper coming undone, and then tension and release, presumably where the hooks are. The painted on suit loosens around the shoulders, though it still hugs tightly to the arms, helped by a layer of sweat build-up. Steve starts to peel it down, but Tony stops him again, this time with a sharp, “No!”

A raised eyebrow on Steve’s part has Tony grimacing while he circles back to the front. “Trust me. There’s a trick to this to. And you don’t want to get it wrong.” Tony, with Steve’s own fingers, rings the arc reactor, twisting and lifting until there’s a little pop. A metal ring around the reactor twists forward and away and the whole suit roles down to Steve’s waist, the sleeves still clinging stubbornly to his wrists. He slowly frees his hands, but his attention is now down on his chest. On Tony’s chest.

Somehow, he’s never seen this before. Not in photographs and not in person. It’s one thing to know in the abstract that the arc reactor is buried in Tony’s sternum, but it’s another thing entirely to see it without the barrier of a shirt or three in the way. There are keloid scars all over Tony’s torso, but the mass of scar tissue around the reactor puts them to shame. It’s built up in thick knots, spreading out like a sunburst. Steve takes a breath and realizes this is why his chest hurts. As his chest expands and contracts, the skin around the reactor pulls, going white with the inhale and red with the exhale. And if Steve concentrates, he can feel the slightest of grating of bone against reactor housing.

He wants to touch it, almost does, but one glance at Tony in Steve’s face stops in him his tracks. That’s fear. That’s very nearly panic. And with Steve’s super strength, any sudden move on Tony’s part could have severe repercussions. Steve drops his hand.

“It’s…it’s always like this?”

“What do you think, genius?” Tony snaps. He’s trying to make Steve forget, trying to draw him into a fight, but he’s not going to forget this. Not for a long time. It’s been three years since he last felt the pain caused by his scoliosis or the gnawing panic that comes from not being able to breathe, but he hasn’t forgotten for a second what it’s like. And he won’t forget this either. He stares up into Tony’s face, his own face, which is turned away and red with shame. Steve’s Irish skin isn’t as forgiving as Tony’s Mediterranean complexion when it comes to embarrassment.

Finally, Steve says, “I probably ought to shower before we get those ice packs on.”

Tony glances from the corner of his eye down at Steve. He recognizes an olive branch when he hears it. “Trying to get a free show, Rogers?” His tone is still guarded, but there’s a flash of gratitude as well.

“I mean, I’m not opposed to the idea.”

That makes Tony’s eyebrows pop, his eyes widening as he turns to look down at Steve head on. “Good to know,” he eventually chokes out. “Uh, you can use the shop shower. You…you know where it is.”

Very suddenly, Tony is across the shop, footage of their fight with Amora up on the screen. He’s studying it very intently, but Steve welcomes this kind of tension over the fear that had fogged the air just minutes before. With care, he kicks out of the suit, groaning with the pain of his back. He can feel those bruises purpling up already. The moment he stands, the suit shimmies all the way down his hips, which is how he discovers that Tony sometimes does not wear underwear in his undersuit. Free show indeed. Steve wriggles his toes free of the individual toe holes and steps free of the neoprene, shuffling to the shop bathroom like an invalid. Which he kind of is.

He leaves the door cracked, but can’t help pausing in front of the vanity mirror. It’s strange to see Tony’s face staring back, stranger still to see his jaw clenched in the way Steve normally clenches, his one eyebrow raised the way Steve normally raises his. And below it all is the web of scars, the glowing blue of the reactor.

“Uh, Tony? Is it safe to be wet?” he calls.

“What, you think I get electrocuted with every shower?” Tony shouts back.

That wry smile, now curling Tony’s lips. “Point taken.” His chuckle makes his diaphragm contract, makes the ribs around the reactor squeeze in, makes him ache to his bones. He doesn’t touch the reactor housing, but he does reach out and touch it in the mirror, tracing the circle of the reflection. He won’t forget.

#writing #fanfiction #katofrafters #musicalluna #steve rogers #tony stark #avengers #body swap

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wordywarriorwrites · 4 years

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Chapter 8: The Fall

Masterlist: The Boss of Brooklyn A03 Story Link Author: @wordywarriorwrites Summary: When it comes to being The Boss, James Buchanan “JB” Barnes rules with an iron fist. For him, there’s no room for sentiment, and certainly no time for distraction, even if it is in the form of an old flame. Steve Rogers had bowed out of the life a long time ago, but a twist of fate brings him right back into the fold, and face-to-face with a man he once loved. When a game of cat and mouse turns into a matter of life and death, both will be forced to decide whether they’ll be loyal to the business, or faithful to each other. A/N: Bucky Barnes Mob Boss AU. Stucky. For: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration & @sherrybaby14 Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge. Warnings: Language, violence, drug use, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content, illegal activities. *Re-blogs are welcome. Plagiarism isn’t. *

Four Months Later...

Slick walkways, sharply-pointed icicles, and bone-chilling temperatures.

The first gust of frost-bite-inducing wind had been a hard slap to the face, and even with all the seasonal-appropriate garb, Steve still couldn’t manage to keep warm. He hadn’t forgotten how brutal the weather could be, but he’d spent a long time in the tropics, and was struggling to readjust.

Fuckin’ Brooklyn…

Steve had run from it, tried to get the damn city out of his blood and bones, but both his former home and the past had come back to haunt him.

Even with all the careful calculation and planning, he’d gotten caught, and after a month of torture, he’d been forced to sign a “peace treaty.” The contracts had named him liaison for and ambassador to the Bosses, but in the months since pen had been put to paper, contact with the Families and Fury had been nonexistent.

They continued to keep him in the dark, and in addition to being kept out of the way, they’d voted to restrict access to the funds he’d amassed. Without money, he was trapped, but even if he managed to get out of New York, Steve knew he wouldn’t be able to get very far. They’d gone to great lengths to ensure he would stay put via confiscating his passport and cutting him off from all modes of transportation.

They’d shut him down and pushed him out, and as a result, life quickly became very lonely and mind-numbingly boring. The only person who still spoke to him was Sam, and with very little to do, the visits with his old buddy were consistent and helped keep him sane.

They always took turns choosing the meeting place, and for some insane reason, Sam suggested they get together at Old Glory Lookout. When Steve questioned it and remarked on the strangeness of the location, Sam left no room for argument and told him to, “just fuckin’ be there.”

The walk was a short, slippery one, but he managed to make it just before the agreed-upon time. Getting together at a place without central heating was bad enough, but when Sam approached cautiously and sans a good-natured attitude, Steve knew something was very wrong.

“There’s a lot of chatter on the streets,” he declared gravely. “And none of it’s good.”

Steve let out a low curse and listened intently as Sam continued to share the latest gossip. The rumors varied, but the most popular – and thereby most disturbing -- was that Steve was gearing up to take both JB and Fury down, and had recruited Sam to help him achieve his goal. As a result, they were being surveilled, and even though there was no proof of treason, the Bosses were ready to shoot first, ask questions never.

“How can I be a threat when they’ve cut me off?” Steve bit out angrily.

“I think you’ve forgotten how badly people wanted you to be Boss,” Sam reminded him. “And from what I’ve heard, Fury’s crew is itching to change allegiance.”

“I don’t have a death wish and I sure as hell don’t want to start a war.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want – or haven’t you figured that out yet?”

He snorted and stared out at the water, “Whatever, man. It’ll blow over.”

“I don’t think so,” Sam countered.

“Why?”

“Because they’ve redistributed long-held territories and keep hiking up dues. They press issues best left alone and rivalries put to rest years ago have started up again,” Sam ticked off in a matter-of-fact tone. “Hell, even the loyalists are chafing under the new regime.”

“Sounds like a fuckin’ powder keg just waiting to explode,” Steve sighed.

“And they think we’re gonna light the fuse,” Sam muttered.

Any further conversation was cut off by the sound of a revved engine and the screech of rubber against pavement. Bits of tree bark and leftover dead leaves suddenly spewed into the air and the series of shots were muzzled, incessant, and well-aimed.

Without hesitation, Sam threw himself forward, and the ice-encrusted sidewalk meant there was no stopping the fall. Steve hit the ground hard, Sam’s weight collapsed on top of him, and the force of both punched the air from his lungs.

Another hail of bullets. A car peeling away. Everything quiet again.

With a knot in his stomach and a lump in his throat, Steve carefully rolled Sam onto his back, and one glance into his vacant eyes was all it took for Steve to know his friend was gone.

Sam had jeopardized himself by befriending him and had risked his own standing by feeding him information. As a consequence, he’d gotten caught in the crossfire, and whether he liked it or not, Steve knew Sam’s death was just the beginning.

He’d been dubbed persona non grata, but someone out there had believed the rumors, and while there was a lot of unresolved animosity, Steve knew the Families would’ve never done sanctioned something so haphazard. It just wasn’t how they handled things.

A despicable act fueled by greed; a complete disregard for innocent bystanders; a public execution to incite fear and reassert dominance. They were the hallmarks of Fury’s modus operandi, and while Steve may have escaped the first time, he knew Fury never left behind witnesses and would send someone along to tie up loose ends.

Tears welled hot and fast, and right on the back of it came a wave of bitterness and regret. It was far too late for should’ve, could’ve, would’ve, and the chasm Steve had been teetering on the edge of for months had finally, wholly, and irrevocably engulfed him.

There was only one person he could turn to, and even though everything inside him was screaming not to, he retrieved his phone, and made the call.

“What?” Bucky answered acerbically.

Steve kept the explanation brief, and after a lengthy pause, Bucky dictated terms.

“If I do this, you’ll owe me,” he snapped. “And I choose the manner in which I collect on your debt.”

Steve clenched his fist and swallowed hard. He should’ve known Bucky wouldn’t let death prevent him from getting his due. Sure, he would see the body collected, if only for the sake of appearances, but if Steve didn’t agree to his demands, Sam would be deemed as nothing more than collateral damage. There’d be no reprisal, never mind a proper burial, and while he hated giving Bucky carte blanche over the situation, Steve owed it to Sam and would see it through.

“Do we have an agreement?” Bucky prompted impatiently.

He sighed with resignation, and as soon as he said the word “yes,” the line went dead. Less than five minutes later, a crew arrived to retrieve Sam and clean up the scene, and a separate car came for him not long after.

Before he could meet and ingratiate to the Boss, he had to get cleaned up, which meant a quick pitstop back home. Though the hot water and change of clothes took care of the outward stains, nothing would wash away the blood on his hands and Steve knew he’d carry the shame and sorrow with him for the rest of his life.

Back in the car, the driver headed away from Bay Ridge and toward downtown Brooklyn. Steve had no illusions and the slow march toward the inevitable was accentuated by expensive Italian leather and tear-blurred cityscape. He knew whatever price Bucky exacted would obliterate what remained of his dignity, and the entire ride to the penthouse felt like one, long trip to the gates of hell.

He’d made a deal with the devil and selling his soul?

Well, that was just the cost of doing business.

Chapter 9: On the Run

Everything: @jennmurawski13 @nerdy-bookworm-1998

Steve Rogers: @patzammit @hearttoearth The Boss of Brooklyn: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @captain-rogers-beard @lilliannaansalla

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