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gwillwrites · 11 months

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For You, For Her

Little self indulgent first kiss thing between OCs. Lovita belongs to @grumpys-blank-worddocument. Art credit also goes to AJ.

The light in the electro-lantern flickered. Hyram reached over and gently tapped the lantern’s casing, coaxing the batteries to provide a little more power and keep the bulb stable. Percussive maintenance worked wonders more often than not, even to the point where the techpriests the tanker knew followed it as a matter of practicality as much as any of their more esoteric rituals and maintenance practices. The lantern flickered once more, as if to protest being struck, before the light grew stronger and stabilized. Hyram watched it for a moment longer, just to make sure the little machine spirit wasn’t trying to trick him. When it failed to resume its flickering, the tanker turned his attention back to the data slate on his desk.

Hyram didn’t get letters often. There were few outside his regiment that he spoke to, or cared enough about him to actually write. He didn’t even need all the fingers on his hand to count them. All three, so far as he knew, were still back home on Venturia. Tonight’s reading was from his sister. She wrote to him most frequently, usually three or four times a month on average. Of course some of that frequency depended on when and how often Hyram was able to get a break between things to write her back.

The data slate winked on with a plaintive hum. It seemed all the machine spirits were taking issue with being used tonight. Hyram couldn’t necessarily blame them. The blizzard outside was enough to make anyone grumpy. Were it not for the fur-lined coat he wore and the space heater working overtime in the corner of the tent, he would be throwing a fit too. Hyram let it warm up for a moment before opening Emillia’s letter.

Dearest brother, I hope this finds you well.

Hyram smiled. He could hear Emillia’s voice in his head as he read what she had written. They hadn’t spoken face to face in over a decade. Not since he had joined the Astra Militarum. She had been eleven back then, but he could imagine what she would sound like as a grown woman now. It was one of those things he just knew.

Your last letter left me in a state of worry. I don’t know what a knight-desecrator is, but it sounds terrible. If you truly managed to destroy one, then I suppose the Imperium is better off for it.

“You have no idea.”

Imagining you face off against something so horrible is just… Mother and I both worry. She is doing well, by the way. You asked in your previous letter. The doctors said there is no more sign of the disease in her. We are all elated and she is slowly gaining her strength back. She will still need to go back for periodic monitoring to make sure it does not return, but we are hopeful. The Emperor has truly blessed her in her healing. But back to the point, if you are well enough to keep writing after facing such a monster, I suppose we do not need to worry so much.

“Prayers are always welcome though.”

On a lighter note, how is Lovita?

Hyram could hear Emillia’s smug tone through her written words, and could imagine the knowing smirk gracing his sister’s face as she wrote them.

You did not mention her in your last letter. Is she still around? Are you still seeing each other?

Hyram snorted. “Maybe that’s because I wrote the last letter from the medicare’s tent,” he said. “And seeing each other is hardly the way I would describe it.”

Even as he said the words, there was a strange pang in his chest, as if he wanted it to be true. There was no denying that something existed between the two of them. Hell, even the rest of his crew were doing their best to get something to happen. That made Hyram feel guilty. Lovita had done her best to express interest, but he had purposefully ignored her, telling himself he wasn’t worth her time, she could do better with anyone else, that he didn’t deserve her. All because of the way he felt about himself, his past, and his own perceived shortcomings. Was he wrong?

I hope you give her a chance. Not just because I think dating someone would do you some good, but because I think you deserve a chance at happiness in this life, Hyram. Even if it is only fleeting. I do not know how long the God-Emperor will keep your paths crossed. I do not know if you know. But I know that if there is anything there between you at all, you owe it to her and to yourself to try.

“You owe it to her…”

The last words died on his tongue as he read and reread them. Hyram’s brow furrowed as emotions warred within his breast. He could agree with the first part. Hyram wanted Lovita to be happy, and he would do anything he could to see her smile. Hearing her laugh had become a bright spot in his life, something he chased after more often than he would care to admit.

But did he owe it to himself?

His father sprung to mind, and the guilt and rage of that night that saw Ezekiel Barrus’ life extinguished at the hand of his eldest son. Hyram’s intentions had been good, but there had been enough spite in his actions that night to render him guilt-ridden since then. Over fifteen years later, and he had been unable to wash the blood from his hands. He hadn’t even been able to disguise it with the blood the Astra Militarum expected him to shed. So instead, he had convinced himself he wasn’t deserving of happiness, and had worked to deprive himself of everything and anything that could possibly grant it.

Including Lovita.

Hyram placed the data slate down. His sister’s voice continued to ring in his head as he skimmed through the rest of what she had written in the letter, but he was no longer focused on what she had to say, as if it had absorbed too much new information at once and needed to blot out everything else to give him a moment to process.

You owe it to her and to yourself to try.

Maybe Emillia was right.

+++

The stench of blood and antiseptic mixed with the scent of mud and wet earth. Hyram pulled his jacket tighter, as if the rain pouring from above hadn’t already soaked through every layer of clothing he wore. It wasn’t the rain that caused him to seek warmth. Hyram had been cold and wet before. He would be cold and wet again. He was used to it, and weathered the discomfort as well as anyone in the Astra Militarum. No, the pulling of his coat had nothing to do with the weather and more to do with the nervousness he was feeling.

Hyram stopped a junior orderly struggling through the mud with a trolley laden with supplies. Boxes of syringes, bandages, clotting powder of dubious value now that it was as soaked as the orderly was. The trolley’s wheels had gotten mired down in the mud and the orderly was struggling to free it and get it moving again. In exchange for his aid in freeing the stuck trolley, Hyram received from the orderly the information he needed. He made his way down the row of tents, turned left at the first intersection, and continued along until he found a long tent of drab green fabric with the word RECOVERY stenciled in yellow paint over the entrance flap.

Hyram stepped inside.

The smell of antiseptic doubled in his nostrils, and the sound of the storm was replaced with the groans of the injured and the patter of rain on the canvas above. It took a moment for Hyram’s vision to adjust to the dim yellow light seeping from glow globes hung at intervals along the tent’s support poles.

The wounded and convalescing were placed on cots and arranged head to head and foot to foot. White sheets provided warmth, though some had heavier blankets given to them by sympathetic squadmates or families following in the regimental trains. The cots were arranged in a grid pattern, with avenues up and down and across at intervals that allowed medicae and nurses to pass and minister to those under their care.

“I’m sorry, sir, but visiting hours for the patients has ended for the day.”

Hyram turned to find a short man in a nurse’s apron standing beside him. He was balding, with thick spectacles perched on the end of a pointed nose. The name tag pinned to his chest read Klawskinni. One of Klawskinni’s hands clutched a clipboard close to his chest while the other adjusted his glasses, as if trying to bring Hyram into better focus.

“Yes, I know,” Hyram said, his gaze going back to scanning the tent.

“Visiting hours resume tomorrow morning at 1000,” Klawskinni said. “You can visit your- hey, wait! Sir!”

Hyram strode past the man, ignoring his pleas to wait and slow down. Klawskinni did his best to keep up, but the taller man’s strides were longer and carried him farther faster. Hyram did not care. He had seen who he had come for.

Lovita stood up from the bedside of a trooper with bandages wrapped firmly around the left side of his head. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she heard Klawskinni’s frazzled tone. “Sorias?” she called. “What is the matter?”

Then she saw the tanker coming towards her, and her eyes widened. “Hyram? Hyram what are you-”

The rest of the sentence caught in her throat as Hyram pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers. Lovita’s eyes went even wider, surprise written clear across her face, before she melted and kissed back. She almost threw her arms around Hyram’s neck before she remembered where they were.

“Hyram!” Lovita stammered, pulling back just enough to look up into his eyes. “What was that for?”

Hyram swallowed breathlessly, suddenly aware that he may not have thought this course of action through entirely. “I, uh… Because I wanted to.” Hyram glanced around, acutely aware that some of the patients were looking at them. A few had knowing smirks on their faces. One gave him an enthusiastic double thumbs up.

“You wanted to?” Lovita raised an eyebrow. “Hyram this is hardly the time or place.”

“I… I know…” Hyram felt color rush to his face and fought to keep embarrassment from rising any farther. “I’m sorry.”

Lovita looked up at him for a moment longer. Then she smiled and placed a hand on his cheek. “You are a wonderful, silly man, Hyram Flint.” The hospitaller went up on her toes to reach his lips and kiss him again. Someone on the far side of the tent gave an obnoxiously cheerful whoop. Lovita let the kiss linger before coming back down. “And my shift ends in an hour.”

“An hour.” Hyram repeated, still blinking owlishly at her. Then he smiled, an honest smile full of more warmth than any Lovita had seen on his face before. “Alright then. I’ll meet you back here in an hour.”

“Good,” Lovita said. “Because I am quite interested in seeing what else you might want to do after that kiss.”

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #black library #fanfiction #fanfic #writers of tumblr #warhammer community #[Death Before Dismount: Hyram Flint]

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khaleesiofalicante · 5 months

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Now these are all random thoughts with no order, but I still need to get them out of my system (and my notes lol)

David's thoughts not appearing and him not having a POV makes me so fucking nervous, because the last time it happened it turned out to be the saddest shit ever 😭

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN ARCAID ARE NOT A CANON EVENT???? AND THEY AREN'T TOGETHER IN IALS??? My mind refuses to accept that😤. Also the fact that Arthur said “We’re destined to be together, Kincaid.”, and they are the couple that is not canon is my 13th reason 🙂

The song rec in Lance's chapter being She by Dodie??? Haven't recovered yet, thanks :)

I remember Arthur saying in IALS that "You were bigger than the whole sky" was his favorite song from the midnights album and now I'm feeling Arcaid feels not in a good way😭😭

Everyone in this gen is a whore and I say good for them!! Theia literally using her travel year to go see Lance, Joan thirsting over Régine, Iris and Hermes, Arthur and Kincaid (both self explanatory), and don't get me started on Cami! I am proud of them😌

I'm still curious about what happened to David's book. I mean, I know it wasn't published, and Max was angry at Rafael about it, but what bullshit excuse did they used???

Rafael and Max's relationship 🥺🥺. Rafael being scared for Max, and Max wanting to protect his family and everything just going to shit because of the Clave... They better fix this relationship or I'm throwing hands!

You should listen to "Fuiste tú" by Ricardo Arjona and "El triste" by José José. They give me IALS vibes. Funny thing is that those two are really famous in my country, and I've heard them a thousand times, but just recently I paid attention and I am heartbroken 🥰

I have a theory Max won't become Other Max after seeing all the damage it created. Like, seeing the consequences, and telling David he can't do it but feeling bad about it. Still not sure because that whore is capable of anything

And I have ANOTHER theory that David will die soon. Like, in a battle or in between the fight with Idris and that's why Max invented time travel. Because he never got to grow old (?) with him. But maybe that would also mean Lance activating the prophecy for him... Besides, Other Max said he took 720 years to figure it out, but he didn't said what year he is from... Idk, maybe it could be because you didn't want to do math but I don't trust you anymore😑

I love Rafael, Anjali and Cami but omfg they NEED TO CHIILL!!! I feel they would judge me so hard LMAO. I am that girl who's motto is "if tomorrow isn't the due date, today isn't the do date". And I procrastinate so much but the worst part is I know I can pull it off because I have done entire projects 20 minutes before they're due and I've gotten 10s, and studying for exams with time?? Nah, I like to study with someone's study cards 10 minutes before the exam AND I also pull that off so yeah... I love Cami but she would probably dislike me 😂

Every time I remember Other Max waited 720 years to see David again, I remember this scene of IALS and feel 80% worse 🥲 “Alec hasn’t spoken to me for two days and I already feel like I’m decaying,” bapak told him. “Decaying?” Max made a face. “Like a corpse?” The man clutched his face. “13 years, Max. 13 bloody years. How on earth did you manage that?”

I would sell a kidney to know why tf Other Max does the shit he does sigh

I'm really curious about the changes from Other Max's timeline and this because of the White Warlock thing Max has going on. Like, we've cleared that the money did have an impact on it, so not only does it affect keeping the institute, I guess it would affect Lance and AJ going to different schools, maybe Arthur not meeting Harry?

Arcaid are together (briefly) in IALS but they don't end up together rip.

She by Dodie is funnily enough a song that perfectly fits Lance and Kincaid - more reasons why they are alike!!!

We'll find out about David's book soon (I think).

Thank you thank you for your song recs. I love them. I haven't been the same since you recced me Tú sí sabes quererme. It's one of my fave songs ever - and so very blackbane too.

And yes, everything is literally because I don't wanna do math. DO NOT MAKE ME.

I guess we'll find out what Other Max does and why he does it when he return to the Other Timeline during the interlude.

And yes, it does affect the schools they go to. For instance, Arthur and Harry meet in a public school instead of Silverstone. You actually get a lil context about this in the next chapter :)

#lbaf

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survivor-marieta-islands · 9 months

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Episode 7: "I was out having a #hotgirlsummer"—AJ

Antigua 2.0

Okay because is it literally criminal offensive for Antigua to catch a break one time???? Wish we would!!! I’m so annoyed that we had to vote Shawn out and annoyed we had to go to tribal in the first place AGAIN!! Praying we can get this bag this time though because if i have to do a fifth tribal in a row i’ll pass away (respectfully).

Maddison

okay so!!! barbie’s and ken stayed together last vote which was MUAH beautiful! and thank u good lord above that we aren’t back at tribal tn!! feeling pretty ~ okay ~ right now with how things are going. not sure what my strategy is moving forward tbh i just hope we can ride out a few wins and not worry abt tribal for a lil min

Colin

okay so I've been kinda planting seeds with adeline.

last round, adeline was kinda playing the whole "I didn't really talk to anyone on my original tribe" thing, and honestly I kinda don't believe her, bc she was definitely giving me insider tea on the alliances and drama that was going on over there. but I think it was just a ploy from her so that we'd vote out shawn over her. it worked? maybe?

HOWEVER I was also planting my own seeds, saying that I was the next to go on OG Antigua, I barely survived our last tribal, and I don't have any undying loyalty to them. All true, but definitely played it up more just so that I have an in with some new school players going into merge.

I think if a merge happens I wanna work closely with Zo, Adeline, and Raffy. Those are the three that I feel like i can trust right now. I don't trust Jinx at all, and being on a tribe away from them has been good. I don't know why but they have been COMING for me for several rounds. I wanna trust Amy but shes giving me nothing and i'm giving her everything. it's a two way street and I don't think she's offering as much as she could as an ally.

ultimately, I have my eye on the PRIZE and i can't make the same mistakes I always do, so i'm gonna just play SMART.

I’d like to thank not only g*d but also jay for believing in us to secure this win FINALLY!! The curse is broken bitches watch out for these barbies!!!!

Elegida

Amy

after last round, my goal this round was to do the absolute least. I checked in with Raffy & Brandi a few times, barely checked in with jinx, I don't think I've spoken to Arvin since the first night of the swap. I saw "idioms" and said nope I will not be doing this challenge if it's only 3 running it. I've completely forgot or had wild scheduling so just haven't don't the idol hunt in like 4 days. Just chilling over here ⛱️ was gonna try to get an advantage for the team but looks like they were absolutely fine without it.

Raffy

I don't know if I've written a confessional for this round tbh. Brandi seems to agree that Arvin should go if we ever went to tribal. I'm hot and that's why I should win.

Arvin

We won another challenge! I hope Trinica, Hairie and Clefford stays.

Sin Sazonar 2.0

Hairie

Word chain challenge is Trinica’s challenge to lose. They’re so iconic for that.

We are at 5 tribe members. My alliances here are with Trinica and Clefford as a trio so the choices are limited with it being AJ or Tanner.

Do we go with strength going into the next challenge?

Or do we potentially cut AJ here because of a potential game threat at merge?

This is a tough one especially when there are just 5 people and there is not much room to hide.

Wowie I can’t believe this. I sat out because I was out having a #hotgirlsummer and was away from my computer. Aaaaand….we lost. This will be our second tribal and I honestly have no idea what’s going to happen. Considering if I should give my idol to Trinica before tribal or not, maybe I be chaotic and give it to Clefford and tell nobody about it. Though I know if I give it to Trinica she’s the most likely to transfer it back. Well, decisions decisions. Seems like the vote is Tanner but honestly idek at this point.

Trinica

Well, we lost. Which is not at all surprising given the challenge and our tribe's limitations around English idioms and timezones haha.

But that's okay, this is an eventuality I expected and almost wanted in a way. Hairie wants me, Clefford, and Tanner to vote AJ. But Clefford doesn't want to vote AJ because she's better at challenges than Tanner. So the vote will very likely be on Tanner instead. Buuuuut I called AJ and told her Hairie had been saying her name so she'll potentially play her idol, which will HOPEFULLY leave me as the only Sin Sazonar holding an idol. I tried to hint to her that we could idol out someone who's more of a threat but she seemed really uninterested in strategizing because she's sick. Like she was about to just give me the idol and part of me wanted to be like yeeeeah I'll hold it for you but also I think if I had agreed she would've gotten sus.

Sooo idk who will actually go tonight but I'm hopeful it won't be me and an idol will be put back in the hunt (maybe).

#episodes

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thefatedthoughtofyou · 3 years

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Oh hey it’s me again!

I was thinking a fic where Bucky and Sam are arguing cause Sam did something reckless on a mission and Bucky freaks out but oblivious Sam genuinely has no idea why. And then Bucky accidentally yells ‘because I love you’

Pls and thank you!

{{ HELLO WELCOME BACK!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS!!!! I...LOVE prompts like this. And like... i know you just sent this but i saw it and had to write it immediately. It also got way longer than i expected, and there is some spicy stuff at the end, so there's that! Hopefully that's okay! I had no control! Haha! Thank so much again!!!!! I hope you like it!!!! }}

Ao3

Word Count: 4,031

Warnings: Some light angst, love confessions, and some implied sexual things at the end!

Reckless Idiots Tend to Fall

Sam wakes up in the hospital, his head fuzzy, pain shooting through his ribs like lightning when he takes a deep breath. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, trying to relax back into the bed without causing any more pain.

"Sam? Hey you good?" Torres. That's the voice Sam hears. He's still grimacing through pain, he relaxes his body at once, making a noise like he'd been punched. He opens his eyes, keeping his breathing shallow.

"Do I look good?" He grumbles, looking at Torres. The kid gives him this look, a worried look that makes him look like a fucking puppy.

"Honestly you probably look better than you feel." He says, fingers drumming on his knee.

"Yeah. Well you look nervous." Sam watches the kid flinch and glance at the door.

"I'm not nervous. I'm just on edge. Totally different." He says, eyes moving to the door and back again. Sam looks to the door slowly, expecting to see someone standing there, maybe someone watching them, there's no one there.

"Why are you on edge?" Sam asks, his palms pressing flat agaisnt the bed, he wants to move desperately, but he knows it'll hurt.

"Nothing it's just... Bucky." Torres says, quietly, like he doesn't want to be over heard, like he doesn't want to be saying it at all. Sam's stomach drops.

"What about Bucky? Is he okay?" Sam asked, keeping his voice impressively level for the amount fear turing his blood to ice at the moment. Torres' eyes widen and he raises his hands.

"Oh he's fine! Oh my god I'm sorry, no. He's- he's good he's fine, he's just... grumpy." Torres says, his voice going low again, like he might be heard through the walls. Sam blinks hard, his head still fuzzy from the meds, and looks around the room slowly, finally realizing that Bucky is nowhere to be seen.

"Is he here?" Sam asks, praying that he doesn't sound as hopeful as he feels. But Torres gives him those puppy dog eyes again and he knows he failed.

"Yeah. He just went to get some air I think. And maybe some water. He said he was thristy, kinda mumbled it. I asked him to bring me one, but I don't think he will. I don't think he likes me very much." The kid was rambling, if Sam's chest wasn't full of fire he'd have laughed at him.

"He likes you fine. He's just... like that." Sam says, moving his shoulders slowly, shrugging. Torres smiles at him and nods.

"That's fair. He's been through a lot." Sam smiles, Torres was mainly talking to himself now.

"Yes. He has." Sam sighs, resting his head back on his pillow. He tires to do some mental calculations, of his pain, but also of what had happened. He couldn't remember it very clearly. He remembers catching the little kid that had almost fallen, remembers nearly throwing them back up onto the building. And he remembers falling. The wind rushing in his ears as he fell through the dark. His wings had stopped working.

"I fell." Sam whispers, looking at Torres.

"Yeah. You did. For a little bit. You don't remember what happened?" His brow was furrowed with concern. Sam shook his head and almost yelled, pain stabbed at his head when he moved. Sam moved his hand up, feeling the bandage wrapped there.

"Jesus." He breathed, moving his hand down, and turning his head, slowly, to look at his friend.

"Tell me what happened." Sam said. Torres nodded and wiggled his chair forward a bit, the metal legs scraping on the tile making them both wince. Torres talked, and Sam listened. His heart pounding in his chest as he recounted the details.

Sam had fallen, hitting his head on the way down. And Bucky had jumped after him. No wings, no way to catch him really, but he'd jumped. And he'd caught him. He'd slammed into him mid air, wrapped one arm around Sam's middle, and he'd reached out with the other. His metal hand finding purchase on the building they'd been on top of seconds before. Torres had watched as Bucky's metal fingers had ripped into the side of the building, sliding down it, sending sparks flying, Sam held close to him as the ground approached. Torres had dove, and made it to them just in time to slow them down, lifting them both just enough to set them gently... ish, on the ground.

Sam stared at Torres. His heart pounding, his ears ringing, not knowing what to say. Torres looked back, that sad look on his face.

"He broke three of your ribs, but he saved you." Torres finally said, offering something else for Sam to react to.

"He jumped off the building." Sam said, not sure if it was a question or not. Torres nodded at him.

"He dove off. Like a swan dive. He has good form." Torres said, smiling. His face dropped into one of contemplation.

"Hey isn't he afraid of heights?" Torres asked as the door to Sam's room opened, and Bucky walked in, freezing in place when he sees Sam is awake.

"Yes, yes he is." Sam says, no longer looking at Torres.

"Yes who is what?" Bucky mumbled, his brow furrowed as he stared at Sam.

"Nothing." They both responded. Bucky's eyes moved to look at Torres, who looked at the floor immediately, his cheeks flushing, looking like a child who's just been caught causing trouble. And then his eyes were on Sam again. He stared for a moment and then narrowed his eyes.

"How do you feel?" He asked, his voice low, and there was something else there too, in his voice, Sam wasn't completely sure but he thought he sounded... mad?

"Okay I guess. My chest hurts. And my head. But I'm sure I'll live." Sam huffed, trying a small laugh and a smile. Bucky nodded once, his jaw clenching.

"This time." He says, his voice cold, and Sam watches him turn on his heel and walk out of the room again. The door slams closed and Sam flinches, grimacing from the pain it invites. He stares at the door for a long time before moving his eyes back to Torres. And fuck, he's got that sad fucking look again.

"Told you he was grumpy." Torres says, giving Sam an awkward smile, his lips pressed together.

"Yeah." Sam sighs, not knowing what else to say. Bucky hadn't looked at him like in a long time, and he definitely hadn't spoken to him that way. Sam wasn't sure he'd ever spoken to him like that. His voice had been so cold. And his eyes, they'd been dark. But despite those things, there had been some deep emotion behind his eyes, something he was holding back. Sam groaned and closed his own eyes. Knowing Torres was watching over him, he let himself fall into the dark once more.

He was in the hospital for a week. His doctors monitoring his head wound with care, and making sure his ribs didn't shift to any dangerous positions. Bucky didn't come back.

His room was always bustling though, doctors and nurses and Torres and Sarah and his nephews, but never Bucky. Not once.

Sarah picked him up on friday evening, asking if he'd come by. She accepted Sam's silence as an answer and didn't ask him again. They pulled up in front of her house and Sam frowned.

"There's someone in the kitchen. The boys aren't allowed to cook by themselves anymore." Sam mused, side eyeing his sister. She sighed and looked at him, her hand going to his shoulder.

"Don't be mad. And be nice. There's no fighting over dinner in this house. You remember that." She slapped his shoulder playfully and got out. Sam followed her slowly, his ribs aching, his heart pounding in his chest as he peeked in the window, the blinds were drawn but it didn't matter. He knew that silhouette. Knew those shoulders.

Sarah opened the door for him and the sounds of laughter hit him, spreading warmth further in his chest. The boys were clearly laughing at something Bucky had said. Sam breathed in heavily and almost stumbled, something smelled delicious.

"We're home! Be gentle." Sarah called and then admonished as the boys began to run to him, Bucky caught Cass around the middle easily and held him up. AJ had stopped rushing forward on his own. Bucky set the boy back down, not looking at Sam.

"Go wash your hands before dinner." He said, patting the boy's back twice, smiling at them as they both moved toward the sink.

"Smells good." Sarah said, moving to the table to look over the food that was already set out there. Sam's head was swimming, Bucky had a towel thrown over his shoulder, and he looked, comfortable. Or he did, until Sam took a step toward him. His eyes moved to Sam finally and they still had that look. Sam hadn't see him in a week and he was still glaring at him. He could feel Sarah's eyes on them, so he took a deep breath and moved a step back.

He felt, odd. Out of sorts. In his sisters kitchen. He just wanted to talk to Bucky, alone, figured out what the hell was going on. But the boys ran to the table, bumping into each other as they went, and the moment was over. Sam shook his head gently and watched Bucky peek into the over before grabbing the towel from his shoulder. He wiped at his hands and sighed.

"This needs about ten more minutes Sarah." He said.

"You leaving?" She asked, but Sam knew that voice, she'd known he would leave, but she sounded disappointed anyway. The boys settled into their chairs with a chorus of boo's, Bucky nodded, walking past Sam with a glance and a tight lipped smile.

"Yeah. Don't think I'll be very good company tonight." He mumbled into her shoulder as she pulled him close.

"Okay well," she paused, giving him a squeeze before letting him go.

"Thanks for watchin the boys, and makin dinner." She said, patting his cheek.

"Boys what do say?" She prompted, turning to look at them.

"Thank you Bucky!"

"Thanks for dinner!" They chimed at the same time, talking over each other.

"Hey anytime." He said with a laugh, walking past them and dodging a few punches, he paused at the door, looking at all of them

"Welcome back. Enjoy your dinner." He said, his smile much warmer now, and there was, sadness, in his eyes.

"Thanks." Sam mumbled, stilling feeling lost in his sisters kitchen. Sarah waved and closed the door behind Bucky. She moved her eyes to Sam. And stared at him. She moved her hand back to the door knob.

"You're going after-"

"I'm gonna go after him." Sam finsihed, walking out the door she opened for him. He rolled his eyes at her smug smile and cheeky whispered "Good luck."

"Hey." Sam said to Bucky retreating figure. Bucky didn't stop.

"Hey!" Sam called louder, starting after him, not moving very quickly as nearly every step sent pain shooting through him. Bucky kept walking.

"Would you wait a damn minute man!?" He yelled, grimacing in pain as he kept going. Bucky stopped. But didn't turn around.

"Go back inside Sam. Just go eat." He said over his shoulder.

"Not until you tell me what the hell is going on." Sam said, hobbling closer still, he could see the tention making Bucky's shoulders bunch.

"Nothins goin on man. I'm just tired. Those kids got a lotta energy ya know." He was aiming for nonchalant and noncommittal. He missed by a mile.

"Bucky." Sam said, no answer.

"Just," Sam swallowed hard, the lump in his throat starting to burn.

"Just tell me what I did wrong man. Cuz clearly it was something." Sam said, his voice pleading. And had he done something wrong? He wasn't sure. Bucky was... touchy, about a lot of things. Sam took a startled step back as Bucky rounded on him, his eyes shining.

"What you did wrong?" He asked, incredulous. Sam nodded, not trusting any words to make it past the fire in his throat.

"Jumped off a goddamn building. When you knew, you knew, your wings weren't working." Bucky growled, Sam heard his metal arm hum and saw his fists clenched at his sides.

"You caught me." Sam said, a bit dumbly. Bucky's jaw clenched and he took a step forward.

"Barely." Bucky breathed, his voice low.

"And that went well. You're fuckin ribs are broken. And what if i hadn't? Huh? If I hadn't caught you, where the fuck would you be then?" He asked, his lips curled in a snarl. Sam had never seen him this angry. He swallowed, his heart pounding in his ears.

"Torres was there. He'd have caught me." He reasoned, finding it hard to look away from Bucky's intense stare.

"Yeah? Maybe not. I slowed you down and he just barley made it to us. He was too fucking far away. And you shouldn't have fucking jumped." He said, his finger poking into Sam's shoulder.

"Alright look, I see what you're gettin at man, but that's the job. And he did catch us." Sam said, trying to reach out to Bucky, to put his hand on his shoulder, try to bring him back down. Bucky pushed his hand away.

"That's not the fucking point." He spat, rolling his eyes and turning away from Sam.

"Then what is the point? Help me understand." Sam said, doing his best to keep the tremor in his voice at bay.

"The point? You," he turned back toward Sam quickly,

"Need to stop being so goddamn reckless." Bucky said, his chest was rising and falling quickly now, like he'd just been running. Sam was so fucking confused. Recklessness was basically half of their job.

"I need to stop being reckless? You jumped of that roof too Buck. Just dove right off." Sam said, his arms flailing at his sides. What the fuck was Bucky talking about?

"I can heal!" Bucky yelled, his eyes blazing.

"I fall off a building, out of car, fuck I can jump out of a fucking airplane. I can fall off a goddamn train! But I heal!" He was still yelling, his voice breaking off an on, Sam's chest was aching, he wasn't sure what was happening but he wanted Bucky to stop worrying so much.

"Bu-"

"You fall off a building? And I'm not there to catch you? You die. You're gone. And then where the fuck would I be?" He asked, his voice was quiet now, he sounded almost as lost as Sam felt. Sam took a step forward. Bucky took a step back.

"I understand you're upset. It was a close call." Sam started, his voice soft, like he was comforting a scared animal. And hell, maybe he was.

"But man, that's the job. It's literally, one close call, after another. Every. Damn. Time. I just-" Sam sighed, squeezing his eyes shut hard and then looking at Bucky again.

"I'm still here. I'm right here. I'm okay. I just don't understand why your so pissed at me." Sam said, shrugging, trying to plead with Bucky, not sure what he was even asking for. Bucky stared at him. And then sighed.

"Just forget it man. Alright? It's nothing. Just forget it." Bucky said, sounding exhausted, he turned away again.

"Maybe I don't wanna forget it!" Sam yelled at his back, making him stop, he looked over his shoulder.

"I don't wanna forget it. You're upset. And I want you to tell me why." Sam said, crossing his arms carefully over his chest.

"It doesn't matter." Bucky said, his jaw clenched again, his voice fighting to get past his teeth.

"No?" Sam asked, walking forward, closing the space Bucky had put between them.

"It doesn't matter so much you didn't visit me for a week?" Sam pressed. Bucky's lip twitched, he looked like he was going to growl at Sam.

"Sam." A warning.

"It doesn't matter so much that you didn't even call? It's doesn't matter," he paused, poking Bucky in the shoudler like he'd done to him.

"So much that won't even have dinner with me and my family? But no I see it. I see how much it doesn't matter to you." He pushed on Bucky's shoulder until he took a step back, the fire burning in his icy blue eyes sending a shiver across Sam's skin.

"What the fuck do you want from me Sam?" Bucky did growl now, his voice rising again.

"Just tell me why the fuck you're so goddamn upset!" Sam shouted.

"Because I love you! And you almost died! Because you're a reckless fucking idiot!" Bucky shouted back. His face doing something complicated as he looked at Sam. His eyes darting around Sam's face, realizing what he'd said.

Sam couldn't breathe. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his finger tips. They stood in the dark, Bucky nearly panting in front of him. Something fluttered in Sam's chest and he reached out, to touch Bucky, to grab him and pull him close, he wasn't sure. But he needed to touch him. Bucky slapped his hand away and started walking away. His boots scuffing on the asphalt.

"Bucky?" Sam called, begged, after him. He didn't turn around. Sam was frozen in place. He watched Bucky kick a cinderblock as he passed it, sending it flying into the air, it landed a few feet away, shattering agaisnt the ground.

"Goddamn it!" Sam heard him scream, his voice cracking as he walked into the dark. Sam let him go, watching him disappear into the shadows as it began to rain.

Sam waited four days. Four days of laying on Sarah's couch, nursing his ribs, his skin itching. He wanted to call him. To talk to him. So see him. He wanted to tell him that he wasn't alone. Sam knew how he was feeling. Every time he watched Bucky charge into danger he felt like his knees would give out. He just wanted him safe.

And Bucky had been feeling the same way. Only... deeper? Sam didn't know if that was the right word. But he did know Bucky didn't have a lot of people left. He had his sister, somewhere, he'd been too scared to go see her so far. Sam offered to go with him, when he was ready. And he had Sarah and the boys. And he had Sam. But losing family, and losing someone you love, are different things entirely.

Sam's chest ached as he stared out the window. It was still raining. It had been raining since Sam let Bucky leave. Bucky's face flashed through his mind, how open his face had been after he'd said it. His eyes moving over Sam's feature with haste. And it hit Sam suddenly. He had looked scared. Terrified. Of Sam? Of how he'd react? Of Sam not loving him back?

Sam grabbed his keys and ran out the door into the rain, the pain in his ribs completely forgotten.

He knocks on Bucky's door for almost twenty minutes. He knows Bucky is inside. He'd heard him turn his tv off when Sam had first knocked. It almost made him laugh. But there wasn't time for laughing. They could laugh later.

"Buck please." Sam begged, for what felt like the millionth time.

"Don't make me do this through the door." He pressed his forehead to the door for a moment, just resting there. He moved back when he heard the locks on the other side slide and click open. There was a long pause, and Sam could practically see Bucky steeling himself, setting his shoulders.

The door swung open slowly, and sure enough, Bucky's back was straight as a board. He looked tense, but his eyes were much softer than they had been the other night, though the fear still lingered. Before Sam had a chance to say his peace Bucky spoke.

"I'm sorry. I was an asshole. I was just- I was scared. I saw you fall and I thought I lost you." His voice was shaking, and Sam could see his eyes shining.

"I ca- I can't lose you too. Not you." He choked, tears falling and catching in his lashes. Sam sighed, his heart swelling in his chest as he moved forward, grabbing at Bucky finally, his hands on Bucky's neck.

"You're not gonna lose me. I'm here. I'm here and I love you too." Sam breathed, crashing their lips together. Bucky made a small noise, suprise making him gasp into the kiss, and then his hands where on Sam, pulling him closer. Bucky pulled back, looking at Sam, his eyes wide.

"Say it again." He said, breathless. Sam smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

"I love you."

A kiss pressed to his temple.

"I love you."

A kiss pressed to his nose.

"I love you i love you i love you."

He pressed kisses into Bucky's skin as he smiled brightly, his hands moving up under Sam's soaking wet shirt, fingers pressing into his back.

"I love you too." Bucky whispered, pressing closer, kissing up Sam's neck, and then pulling his earlobe between his teeth. Sam melted agaisnt him and felt Bucky smile into his shoulder. He pulled back, hands settled on Sam's hips, still under his shirt. He stared at Sam and Sam stared right back. Both of them breathless.

"Get in here." Bucky huffed, yanking on the waist of Sam's pants, pulling him through the door and closing it behind them with a kick.

He was pressed against the wall in seconds, his stomach flipping as Bucky lifted him easily off his feet, his strong hands lifting him up by the thighs. Sam wrapped his legs around Bucky's waist and moaned when Bucky rolled his hips. His teeth finding purchase on Sam's neck.

"You're all wet." Bucky breathed into his neck. Sam shivered.

"Fuckin raining." Was all Sam seemed able to manage at the moment. Bucky hummed agaisnt the mark he'd left and then shifted back, his hands shoving at Sam's shirt.

"Get this off." Bucky breathed as Sam helped him pull the shirt over his head. It was then lost somewhere behind Bucky, Sam didn't care if he ever saw it again. Bucky pressed forward, his fingers digging into Sam's back, pulling him closer as he mouthed at Sam's neck again.

"Fuck." Sam graoned, rolling his own hips in time with Bucky's. He could feel Bucky nodding against him.

"Mhm." Was the hummed response he got before Bucky was lifting him again, Sam clung to him, his heart pounding as he pulled at the hem of Bucky's shirt, letting Bucky carry him, and then lower him to the floor. Bucky knelt between his legs, staring down at Sam, his eyes fluttering as his chest rose and fell. Sam almost groaned again when Bucky pulled his shirt over his head, Sam could have sworn he hear fabric tearing but didn't have time to think anything about it before Bucky was on him. Pressing himself between Sam's legs like he was meant to be there.

Sam pulled Bucky's face to his, kissing him again, their teeth clicking as they licked into each others mouths. He felt Bucky smile against his lips and let him go. Let Bucky do what he pleased. His mouth was hot on Sam's rain wet skin and Sam thought he might die. Just like this. It'd be a nice way to go.

Bucky nipped at Sam's neck again, hands moving oh so carefully over Sam's ribs as he touched as much of Sam as he could.

Sam clung to him, let Bucky have him. All of him. The push and pull of their bodies dizzying.

He clung to Bucky, listening to him breath Sam's name like a prayer against his skin.

He clung to Bucky, and let him take him apart, let him love him, as the sun began to break through the clouds outside.

#sambucky #winter falcon #sambucky fic #requests #winter falcon fic #request #prompt fill #my writing

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stevenbasic · 3 years

Photo

Looking at the IG of one of the new applicants, Dr J thinks: What's this one's story?

About a year ago, huh..?

...

The reunion was in full swing, and Angie sipped the straw of her vodka tonic, alone for the moment at the edge of the crowd, watching him. She’d come into the evening like she did into most crowds: thinking she was the smartest person in the room. True, it’s not like she’d ended up top of her class - it’d been ten years since graduating from Middlesex High with these morons - or had found herself at a top-tier college. She totally could have, she always thought, if she had really wanted to. She just never put in the effort, it hadn’t meant enough to her. But she could have been valedictorian, for sure, right? And gone to an ivy-league? She just never set her mind to it, she told herself. Plus, back then, she didn’t have the tits...

Angie Wade was, certainly, what most people would call a “late bloomer”. Not only had her academic and career successes mainly come after her teen years in High School - she’d graduated with Honors from Bowling Green, got her Masters, and now managed two (soon to be three) branches of KLG Bank - but her figure had taken some time to come in, also. When she had graduated, she had been a mostly forgettable member of the drama club, the thin, unremarkable brunette with the big forehead. But, soon, things changed. Since high school she’d put on - haha - nearly thirty pounds, the majority of it generously deposited into the fleshy curves she’d squeezed into this low-cut black top and tight, tight knee-length white skirt. She wanted these people - him especially - to see what had become of Angie Wade, to realize what they had missed. And, the evening had gone predictably. Most of the girls, even some she’d been friendly with in school, either wanted nothing to do with her or treated her with snobby derision - fuck them. Because every guy she’d spoken to tonight had been very keen to chat. Most had given her at least a fleeting glance down her top, and many could barely keep from staring. But she hadn’t talked to AJ Shaw yet....

...and he was right over there.

...

AJ stood at the banquet hall’s bar, idly stirring his bacardi and coke, while Megan Rommety chatted animatedly in his left ear. He’d learned, among a prattling twenty minutes’ worth of other things, that she was a recent divorcee (“her decision”, to hear her tell it) She was trying to flirt with him, he had no doubt. He had been excited about coming to this thing, the 10-year reunion for his Middlesex High School Class. He still hung out, pretty regularly, with some friends from the football team; he’d even hired a couple to work on his construction team. He still touched base with old girlfriends from time-to-time, Facebook or wherever; it was cool to see them with kids and flirt with them behind their husbands’ backs. But maybe there’d be some people from out of town to catch up with. Like Megan here: they’d been in a couple classes together, she’d dated a friend of his, been on the tennis team. She was nice to see, for the first few minutes, but now she was beginning to overstay her welcome in the seat next to him. “...anyway, after I kicked Brad out, I sold the house and bought my own condo down by the lake,” Megan was saying, stirring the ice cube in her chardonnay, “sooooo nice. Real hardwood floors, a view. You just have to come see it! In fact, kids are at my mom’s tonight and…” WHoahhh...Who was THAT?

“Yeah, I uh….” he said Wearing a black, low-cut top that revealed an impressive bulge of soft, creamy cleavage, she was smiling over at him, from across the room. In fact, “smile” might have been too soft of a word. There was something dramatic about the look she was giving him, something….yikes. His stomach fluttered and everything Megan was saying was being droned out, dissolving to just a buzz on his left. Taking a sip of her drink, this woman held his eye contact for an uncomfortably long time, before she began to strut over towards him. My god, AJ thought, that is a strut. Straight back and proud, each step in her killer heels brought a new jiggle to her chest and an extra sway to her hips in her tight, white skirt. This was a woman who knew how to walk, he could see that for sure, and draw eyes to herself. Was this someone from his class?? He had forgotten that he was in the middle of a sentence, a conversation. Hell, he practically forgot where he was. He’d kinda found that happening, recently. Pretty women seemed to throw him off base more easily than they used to. Ones with boobs, especially. “Hiya, remember me?” she said, sidling up to the bar and unceremoniously boxing Megan out. He tried to keep his eyes up, on her face, on her wide, wide smile. He knew he would look like an asshole if his eyes dropped to her tits….but it was a struggle. “I…uh” he began, as his mind began to work. He was usually so good at this! He felt like he knew everybody from his class, or at least everyone important. Especially the hot ones! But he was having trouble remembering this one, her name. Her face was sorta familiar, but he certainly didn’t recognize those curves from high school. “Uhmmmm…”

“Angie Wade?” Megan interjected, from half-behind the newcomer.

Oh yeah, Angela Wade.

“Angie Wade?” AJ finally managed, lights beginning to click on, “You were in drama club, right?” “That’s me!” Angie beamed, biting her lower lip flirtatiously, “You DO remember me!” He...he did remember her, yes, Angie. But certainly not like this. The Angie Wade he remembered had been...skinny. Maybe not quite a dork, but not someone with whom he’d ever associate. If he recalled, his friends had told him she’d been an admirer of his. God, if he’d known she’d grow up into this...wow, she really grew a pair. “Excuse me,” Megan piped in, pushing her short, coiffed-blonde hair behind her ear, “We...were in the middle of a conversation?” Obviously annoyed, Megan could see how AJ’s attention had suddenly been drawn to Angie Wade and her big new tits. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Angie responded, not bothering to hide a note of condescension. She shifted to unblock Megan from the conversation, a move that just brought her closer to AJ’s left side, and in fact let her press her big right breast into his left arm. She felt him shudder, almost imperceptibly, but tried to keep her smile to herself.

Angie glanced Megan up and down with a coy smirk before turning back to AJ. “So...Nice suit! You look great,” she said, knowing men’s weaknesses for flattery, “Seems like you’re doing well?” “Um, yeah! Thanks!,” AJ replied, wincing as he heard the weird enthusiasm in his voice. He can’t come across as creepy, just talking to this girl ‘cuz she’s built. He knew he had to maintain himself, his composure. “I’ve been good,” he continued, “Staying busy with work and-” Angie cut him off. “Yeah, I saw that your company has a bid in to renovate the stadium downtown,” she said, letting her eyes sparkle in admiration. Men loved that. “That’s soooo great…” They also loved this bimbo talk, she’d learned. “Yeah well, it’s um… an exciting project,” He finished lamely, glancing over at Megan, whose glare had gone icy. What was he doing? This was rude. He should try to involve Megan some more, but found himself just really not wanting to. “But enough about me,” he said to Angie, admiring the dramatically dark makeup around her eyes, “How are you doing?” “I’m doing SO, SO good!” Angie sang, right hand reaching behind AJ’s back, resting on a shoulder. Megan scoffed, watching as her left hand then found his knee. What a tramp. “‘So so good’?” Megan finally snapped, the derision in her voice unmistakable, “Last I heard you were working at Hooters. Brad said he saw you th-” “Oh, did he? Brad, your husband?” Angie smiled, turning finally to address Megan, smile big and white.

“Ex...husband…” Megan said, voice quickly fading.

“Hm. Well, did Brad mention that he used to come in every Tuesday and Thursday for lunch, with guys from work, or sometimes just by himself?” Angie continued, a new edge to her voice, “And when I moved to just weekends, he started showing up then, too?” She smiled as she saw Megan’s eyes go wide. She loved doing this shit to prissy bitches like Megan, when they thought they could flex. “Did Brad tell you that he always asked to be sat in my section, and when I finally left he’d asked the other girls about me? Where I went? Asked for my number?”

Megan’s jaw had started to quiver, and Angie had to keep herself from laughing. She remembered Brad, though it had been awhile. Guys from their old high school had often come to Hooters to drool, whether it was over her or younger girls like Shanette or Missy. Brad had been no different. “I guess he just saw something he liked…. “ Angie concluded, straightening her shoulders and pushing her boobs forward - which drew a glance from AJ, she noticed. “Maybe something he didn’t have at home?” “Holy shit y-you bitch,” Megan sputtered, doing her best to sound appalled but glancing down at her own modest bust, unable to keep from feeling a little inadequate. Yes, Brad had been “a boob guy”... Ignoring the insult with practiced aplomb, Angie turned back to AJ, catching him looking down her top. “Besides, you don’t mind...do you AJ?” she asked him, squeezing her right breast more firmly into his nicely-muscled arm, rubbing his broad shoulder through his suit jacket, “That I used to work at Hooters?” “Um, uh, what?” he stammered, uncomfortable with the tense exchange that had just happened between these two girls, feeling weird that he’d just sat here, passively. How was he supposed to answer this? “No...not at all,” he managed, “I think, uh, service work is perfectly dignified…” “See?” Angie giggled, still rubbing his shoulder and rewarding him with an extra bit of boob, “Good boy.” Angie giggled again, so pleased with herself. Megan, for herself, looked aghast, watching AJ - who she always thought was a pretty well-put-together guy - fall for this bimbo’s simple little tricks. God, what a pair of tits can do... “I…” “..was just leaving” Angie finished for her, fixing her with a bright white smile and withering stare. She watched as Megan took her drink and stood from her stool. “You gonna go call Brad?” she added, for good measure, “Tell him Angie from Hooters said hello.” “Tell him yourself,” Megan sneered, and then turned to him, “And, AJ, nice talking to you. Have fun with the Titty Monster.” With that she stomped off, and Angie’s smile curled.

“‘Titty Monster’”, Angie repeated, chuckling to herself, “That’s rich. I think I’ll use that.” She bit her lip, narrowed her eyes. “So….” she began, turning all her attention back on AJ, her high school crush. She almost couldn’t believe it herself: here she was, little Angie Wade, proudly claiming Aaron Joseph Shaw for herself, just because she could. It was like wrapping him around her little finger. “Can I have a seat?” “Oh, uh, yeah,” AJ replied, shaking his head. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t even said goodbye to Megan. “Of course…”

AJ half-stood, chivalrously, as if to help Angie up into Megan’s now-empty chair. He sat back, finally, and began to order them both a drink from the bartender with the dramatic mustache.

“Two vodka tonics, please,” Angie had insisted, speaking over him with a will that made his loins clinch.

From there, the flirting began in earnest, disguised by a conversation about their jobs. Angie avoided divulging too much about her situation, her successes at the bank. She knew the male ego could be a fragile thing, and she didn’t want to scare him away. AJ seemed to be a successful guy himself, in his own way, but boys tended to like their girls dumb, and she could play that up a bit when she needed to. So, no mention of the degrees, no mention of the awards. Instead, she had leaned forward towards him just enough to open her cleavage for his approval.

God, she has great tits, he thought to himself, marveling at their swell and mass, and I’m really getting to be a tit-guy these days. His eyes just could not keep themselves from falling down her top, and she seemed not to mind in the least. In fact, after their second drink together, her hand had found its way back to his knee and seemed to give him an encouraging squeeze every time his gaze strayed to her chest. She...she actually likes that I’m looking at her tits, he finally convinced himself, and had slowly started to relax.

After another drink, Angie finally sat up, stock straight, and slowly stretched her shoulders back to look around the room. Some of their old classmates had begun to leave, and the room was less abuzz than it had been. Predictably, his eyes had gone straight to her chest, and shot away before she met his gaze again. She waited for him to talk, knowing exactly what he wanted.

“So, it looks like things are starting to quiet down here,” he finally asked, “do you, uh, need a ride?”

Bingo. “No, I drove myself,” she answered, watching his face, seeing the old gears turning.

“Well, I was thinking about, y’know,” he began again, poking at the remaining ice in his drink, “heading back to my loft, downtown, if you wanted to, like, come with me…?” Angie smiled, and leaned in towards him, squeezing her arms together in a dramatic show of cleavage. “Hmmm, well,” she purred, watching his eyes struggle to maintain her gaze, “how about you come to my place tonight sweetie. It’s closer....”

At that, she leaned in to his ear, and whispered into it with a voice thick with seduction. “And I still have my Hooters outfit at home. I can try it on for you….see if it still fits?”

============================================

Angie attacks! A little GITJ tangent thread being co-written with AgeoftheGiantess, who you may know from GTScity. Look for her story to continue.

Next post, our first entry by new contributor Joyce Julep, available at my Patreon

#Growing Into the Job

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averylainey · 3 years

Text

Resilience

After passing out in the barn, Clementine awakens in the room she thought she’d never see again.

“I’m not dead; that’s good,” she teased.

“Hey, that’s my line.”

AO3 ~ FF

AJ sat on his bed and stared at the girl lying in the bunk across from him. It was eerily quiet that afternoon-- a stark contrast from the chaos of the day prior. AJ hated it; he hated the silence. There was nothing to focus on, so his mind decided to occupy itself by replaying every terrible thing that had happened yesterday over and over again. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the memories from the barn out of his head. He swore he could still hear the chilling scream Clementine had let out when he swung the axe down onto her leg. He tried covering his ears, as if that would somehow muffle the sound playing in his head. He could still see the horrified look on her face before she passed out from the shock. It wasn’t fair. Was it not enough that he had to experience all of this once? Why did his head insist on putting him through it all a hundred times over?

It had been over a day since he brought her back home, and she still hadn’t woken up. The passing of that first day had initially filled AJ with some hope. Clementine made it through that day, proving for certain that his actions in the barn had saved her from the bite. Ruby assured him that if it hadn’t worked, they likely would’ve lost her to the bite within the first day. Unfortunately, his elation at this news fizzled out when the sun came up in the morning without any changes.

He had stayed up for hours, just watching her, concentrating on the most subtle movements: the light rise and fall of her chest, the fluttering of her eyelashes. AJ remembered her telling him when he was little that this meant someone was dreaming. He’d wake up to see her smiling at him; ‘’Was that a good dream?’’ she’d ask as she stroked his hair. And the little boy would be mesmerized every time that she knew he was dreaming. He wished that this was all just another bad dream, that soon he’d wake up with his head in her lap, once again staring up at that sweet smile he loved. But he wasn’t stupid. He knew that wasn’t going to happen no matter how hard he tried to wish it into reality.

AJ’s eyes began to sting, so he shoved his fists against them to stop the tears that threatened to spill out. When he returned his gaze to Clementine, a beam of sunlight had flooded in through the window, creating a bright stripe on the sleeping girl’s face. AJ froze when he saw how the sun highlighted the deep bags under her eyes. She looks terrible. He gawked at her as a sigh escaped her pale, chapped lips; then, his eyes moved up her arm to where her wrist was taped to the bed frame. He was furious when the others insisted that restraining her was necessary. It made the possibility of losing her feel real, and he refused to let himself believe that could happen. ‘‘She’s gonna make it! You’re gonna fix her. You...You better!’’ he had protested when Ruby tried to reason with him. Louis, though he was also unhappy with the decision, backed the redhead up. ‘‘She’d want us to be safe.’’

Now, as AJ stared at her and saw how awful she still looked, a quiet voice within him told him that they may have been right. The boy averted his eyes, turned his body away from her, and pulled his legs to his chest. He couldn’t bear to see her that way any longer, and this time, he made no effort to stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks. He sniffled and rested his chin on his knees.

Eager to find something else to focus on, AJ looked forward to the desk at the foot of his bed. There sat Louis, with his forehead pressed against the desk, his fingers interlocked at the nape of his neck. AJ figured he had fallen asleep; after all, he hadn’t slept since Clementine was brought home. Even AJ allowed himself a couple hours of rest the previous night, but Louis didn’t move. He just sat on the dresser beside her bed, staring blankly at the floor, and ignored everyone’s pleas for him to rest.

Louis lifted his head and turned to look at AJ. So he wasn’t asleep… Faint streaks of tears stained his cheeks, and his eyes were bloodshot. When those solemn eyes met his, the little boy instinctively looked away. It was too painful to witness. He didn’t even look tired-- just sad. Sadder than AJ had ever seen anyone. Heartbroken.

AJ wondered if he looked that way too.

The little boy raised his head again when he heard the scraping of the chair against the rough wood floor. Louis stood and slouched, frowning as he studied the two full bowls of dinner on the desk. Ruby had brought them the food about twenty minutes prior, begging them to eat at least a bit of it. The boys promised they would try, but neither made any effort to keep that promise; they really only said it to stop her fussing over them. The teen sighed before moving to sit on the edge of AJ’s bed.

He was silent for a moment before opening his mouth, but when he tried to speak, the words caught in his throat. Louis shook his head and slumped over with a defeated sigh.

AJ wiped his eyes and pulled his knees away from his chest. He leaned forward and crawled the short distance to sit beside the older boy. He dangled his legs over the edge and stared at the floor, mirroring the dejected posture of the boy beside him. His lip quivered as he tried to hold in the sobs that threatened to overtake him.

Louis stole a side-glance at AJ, his face contorting in pain when he saw the intense grief written on the other’s. They had hardly spoken the last several hours-- there was no need to. They understood each other in an unspoken way that the others could not. Everyone at the school was mournful, but they couldn’t even begin to understand the deep solemnity that united the boys. Louis wrapped an arm around AJ and pulled him closer. The little boy leaned into him, finally allowing the full force of his sobs to escape his mouth.

AJ didn’t know how long he cried, and frankly, he didn’t care. He cried until he didn’t have any tears left. He cried until his throat burned, turning his wails into hoarse coughs. Louis kept the little boy in his embrace throughout it all, only moving slightly to brush away the silent tears that streamed down his own face.

Eventually, AJ’s breathing relaxed, and he slumped over, resting his full body weight on the teen next to him. Louis glanced down to find the boy’s eyes closed, his cheeks still flushed from crying. He smiled sadly at him, envious of how he was able to fall asleep to escape the heartache for a while. Louis stood and laid AJ back against the pillow before pulling the thin blanket over him. Then, he returned to the foot of the bed and sat with his back against the wall.

Louis looked forward to the girl in the bunk across from them; she was still asleep, blissfully unaware of the anguish that filled the room. What if she never woke up? He furrowed his brows at the thought and returned his gaze to the boy sleeping beside him. What would happen to AJ?

It was obvious to him. He had to look after AJ if she couldn’t. He owed it to her-- to both of them. She defended their home, fully prepared to die in the process, and that was a debt no one could ever repay. But being there for AJ was the closest he could get. It’s what Clementine would want-- everything she ever did was for him.

Louis didn’t want to give up on her; he still hoped that, by some miracle, she would be okay. But things weren’t looking good, and if they lost her, AJ would be destroyed. He would need someone to lean on, someone to support him. The teen was determined to at least try to be that for him. He couldn’t fall apart. He owed them.

He owed it to himself too-- to ease some of the overwhelming guilt he felt for abandoning them at the bridge. If he had stayed to help, maybe she wouldn’t have been bitten. Louis frowned and rested his head against the wall, preparing himself for more hours of staring at the ceiling. If only he could just sleep like AJ….

----

AJ awoke a couple hours later and immediately looked to Clementine to see if, by some miracle, she had woken up while he was asleep. His face fell when he saw her still lying there, just as she had been before. Just as she had been for a day and a half. Of course he couldn’t be that lucky. He slouched and let out a sigh of disappointment.

“You ok?” Louis’ voice brought the little boy out of his thoughts. AJ turned to him; he was still sitting with his back against the wall, a worried expression on his face.

“No,” AJ replied curtly. What kind of stupid question was that? Of course he wasn’t ok. AJ sat against the wall next to him and pouted, as they once again fell into silence.

“I… I’m sorry.” Louis suddenly spoke again. “I shouldn’t have left. This is my fault. If I stayed--”

“No, it’s not.”

AJ didn’t understand why he’d think that. It was all that dumb girl’s fault, not his. AJ felt his sorrow turn to outrage as he thought back to the chaos on the bridge. It didn’t have to happen. None of this had to happen. If it wasn’t for that girl, Tenn’s sister, everyone would be home and safe. It shouldn’t be this way. AJ clenched his fists and gritted his teeth.

“It’s all that-- that stupid girl’s fault!”

“AJ, she didn’t know what she was do--”

“No! Shut up!” AJ bit back, his anger rising. “Don’t defend her when you know it’s true! She killed Tenn, and-- and now Clem’s gonna die because of her too!”

“What? You killed Tenn. Not her.”

“She made me. She messed him up!”

“Nobody made you do anything!”

“You would’ve died!”

“Well then, maybe I should have!”

AJ gasped and froze with his mouth agape.

“Shit, I didn’t--” Louis cut himself off with a sigh and put his head in his hands. “AJ, I’m s--”

His apology was interrupted by a low groaning emanating from the other side of the room. The boys tensed and gave each other an unnerved look before turning to the source of the noise. The girl in the bed beside them let out a sharp moan as she struggled against the tape attaching her arm to the bed frame. She was turned to the side facing away from the boys, squirming and scratching at the sheets with her free hand.

“Clementine?” AJ’s voice cracked as he whimpered her name.

His breath hitched when she didn’t react to his call. She continued squirming, and her groaning became louder. No. No, she can’t be. AJ jumped off his bed, tripping over himself and flopping onto his hands and knees. He stumbled up and took another glance at Clementine’s quivering body.

“Clem? Clem, no! Please!” He tried to run to her but was stopped short by a harsh tug on his shoulder.

“AJ, you need to stay back,” Louis warned, though the trembling in his voice undermined any authority the statement could have had.

“No!” AJ shoved the teen’s hand off his shoulder and started toward the other bed. He hadn’t taken two steps before Louis grabbed him and wrapped his arms around his small frame to stop him.

“Let go! Let me go!” AJ shrieked as he struggled against the older boy’s grasp. Overwhelmed by adrenaline, the little boy tried everything he could to escape his hold. He kicked and bit and scratched, all to no avail. At some point, he dug his nails into Louis’ face, carving a long scratch into the teen’s cheek. Louis flinched at the sharp sting of the cut but still refused to release the little boy.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Louis whimpered repeatedly while AJ continued trying to wrestle him off.

AJ turned to face him, hoping to get better leverage to push him off, but he just couldn’t free himself from Louis’ grip; he was too much bigger than AJ and apparently, a lot stronger than he looked. Still struggling, he stole a glance back at Clementine, who was now silent and no longer squirming. She had freed her wrist from its restraint and was propped up on an elbow, eyes wide as she stared at them in horror.

AJ froze and gawked at her. Tears began to stream down his face when he caught sight of her eyes. They definitely weren’t monster eyes. She’s alive. Louis, surprised by how the boy had suddenly stopped fighting, gave him a puzzled look before following his gaze up to the girl. Before he had a chance to react, AJ elbowed him in the abdomen to finally free himself from his grip.

“You’re awake!” the little boy croaked and ran to her bed. AJ jumped up onto her bed and wrapped his arms tightly around her neck. She grit her teeth and winced in pain as her injured leg was jostled, though she tried her best to hide this from the little boy as she returned his hug.

Clementine pulled back and gave him a small smile. “Hey, goofball. What’s with all the screaming? I’m trying to sleep,” she attempted a joke, her voice hoarse.

“I thought you were a monster,” AJ whimpered, too overwhelmed with emotion to even bother protesting her calling him ‘goofball’.

She raised an eyebrow and looked to the other boy, who was watching on in awe, clutching his stomach. “So... you decided to beat up Louis?”

AJ avoided her questioning gaze and muttered, “...I guess.” He didn’t want her to know what he was really doing-- that he was trying to get to her even though he thought she was a monster. She had specifically told him so many times not to do just that. He didn’t want her to be mad at him.

“You shouldn’t have done that, AJ.”

“I know.” He looked at the older boy, and mumbled, “I’m sorry, Louis.”

“That wasn’t the part I was talking about.”

AJ kept avoiding her eyes as a feeling of shame washed over him. Crap. She did know what had happened.

Clementine sighed and wrapped her arm around the little boy, deciding it was probably best to just drop it for the moment. AJ returned the embrace and nuzzled into her neck. She smiled and lightly stroked his hair before looking at Louis. He’d finally recovered from AJ’s punch and was staring fondly at the pair. She gazed lovingly back at him.

“Lou,” she called gently and extended her free hand to him. Louis stood and walked the short distance to her bedside. He knelt down and pulled her into a hug, which she happily returned.

She pulled away slightly, a playful smirk on her face. “I’m not dead; that’s good,” she teased.

“Hey, that’s my line.” His voice cracked and a tear escaped his eye as he spoke.

“Well, I’m borrowing it.” Clementine snickered and placed a hand on his cheek, tenderly wiping away his stray tear. She then delicately stroked the fresh cut that AJ had carved into his skin and gave him a sad smile.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For protecting him. Sorry you got a little beat up for it.”

“It’s ok; it’s not a big deal.” Louis smiled at her, cupped her face, and ran his thumb along the old scar on her cheek. “Hey, we match now.”

The girl snorted and considered the shallow scratch on his face. “I don’t think that’s gonna scar, though.”

“I don’t know; it might. AJ’s a fuckin’ wolverine.”

“I said I was sorry,” AJ grumbled, reminding the teens that he was, in fact, still lying right there.

She breathed out another laugh and grabbed the hand Louis had rested on her face, holding it to her chest. Her face fell as she continued studying his. He squeezed her hand and looked into her eyes, silently asking what was wrong.

“If I was--” Her voice caught at the thought of what could’ve happened, but she swallowed the lump in her throat and continued, “If you didn’t stop him… I… I know he wouldn’t have stayed away.” Her voice was shaking by the last word.

AJ buried his face into her shoulder, trying to hide the shame that burned his face. He wished they wouldn’t talk about this. He knew he did something dumb; they didn’t need to talk about it. At least, not right in front of him.

“I wouldn’t have let anything happen,” Louis assured her, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Thank you,” she repeated, fighting the urge to start crying. She didn’t know what else to say, so she placed her hand on the back of his neck and pressed her lips to his.

When they separated, he rested his forehead against hers. “I’m really glad you’re ok. I thought we lost you. For real this time.”

“Me too,” AJ added with a sniffle.

“How could I ever leave you guys?” she hummed and pulled her boys closer, never wanting to let go.

#*tiptoes back onto this blog as if i didn't drop off the earth for a year*#dont mind me lol #twdg #clouis #twdg fanfiction #my writing #twdg clouis

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the-magic-lava-lamp · 3 years

Text

Harvest Moon

Summary: {A light sequel to: Unforgettable} They laughed, sort of sadly. The full night sky enriched them with gentle peace, strengthened by the soft light of the stars. The temperature dropped considerably since Sam had initially come out. But he didn’t mind the nice chill, it braced his skin and left him with tingling goosebumps. It reminded Sam how real the moment actually was. Paying less attention to the hearty sloshes of water, Sam picked up his radio.

Ships: SamBucky

Word Count: 5,285

The light from the orange sunset flushed Sam Wilson’s cheeks, encouraging the spread of an internally hot blush. Color blossomed under his soft complexion with all the grace of the water rings rippling under the rocks skipping on the lake. Though the sweat was just beginning to puddle in his palms and drip down his temple, Sam was only focused on the fevered senses of comfort which had been deep-rooted in his chest since arriving back home.

The babbling waters had called him out to the docks just the same as they did when he was small. And following that nostalgia, Sam felt the ghost of supper on the stove. Turns out his fucked up Avengers mind could still remind himself to be home before the porcelain plates hit the table. No longer his Mama--but Sarah who would be annoyed with him and that was perhaps more threatening. He thought as his tiny radio played on.

AJ and Cass had fallen asleep with the gentle nudge of a fuzzy re-run of ‘Whose Line is it Anyway?’ and the promise of a hot meal when they awoke. Sam’s absence would be noticed very soon.

‘Sittin' in the mornin' sun

I'll be sittin' when the evenin' comes

Watching the ships roll in

Then I watch 'em roll away again, yeah

I'm sittin' on the dock of the bay

Watchin' the tide roll away, ooh

I'm just sittin' on the dock of the bay

Wastin' time…’

He swiped salty sweat from his brow and found himself dwelling on the evening, wanting to change the direction of the souring sun. No matter what, Sam always began to mourn the day at around 5 p.m. Everyday could’ve been better. The threat of night’s permanent closure and the bearer of nightmares fermented him with anxiety. He was working on that issue with his therapist.

‘Now I'm just gon' sit, at the dock of the bay

Watchin' the tide roll away, ooh yeah

Sittin' on the dock of the bay

Wastin' time…’

Otis began the famed whistling as Sam leaned back on his hands, palms flat on the warm dock. He felt the movement just before a voice began whistling along behind him. It chirped delicately in Sam’s ear, until the song faded and with it--

Sam turned--Bucky Barnes sing-along.

Bucky grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Nice to see you so…” He craned his neck and squinted his eyes. “Lazy.” Even he looked a bit confused by the word choice.

“Thanks…” Sam chuckled.

“I just mean--” Buck paused, scratching down from his chin to his neck. Sam saw that he did that often enough to earn patches of grainy red skin under his facial hair.

Sam smirked, pulling his left thigh up and around from the edge. His eyes simmered Bucky’s blush.

“Have you ever had the time to laze around?” Bucky asked, amazed at his own wondering. “To sit and watch the sun on the water?” He gestured frantically outward. “You’ve been a busy guy...not that I helped you with that any…”

Sam shook his head. “Nah, man. Tracking your ass for Steve reaped some rewards.” He gestured for the man to rest his old bones down next to him and Bucky hesitantly took the offer. His knees cracked with sharp pops all the way down.

“No old man jokes, I swear-”

Sam held up his hands. “I wasn’t planning on it, Bucky.” He glanced at Steve’s old friend and for a moment, couldn’t believe the man of history books and horror stories was ‘sun-setting’ in Sam’s home-town. The orange light caressed his face in the same eerie way it’d done way back at Tony’s funeral.

“Thanks for letting me stay-” Bucky went to rub his chin again. “Not quite separate vacations but…” He chuckled, fading off. It was subconscious, the way Bucky led in with no follow through. He wanted Sam to be the one to initiate the conversation.

But Sam bit his tongue. He deserved to hear what Bucky had to say without having to pull it out himself.

Bucky turned with those doe eyes, tired but with enough energy left to admire his partner. “I hurt you....” He frowned, bitter with himself. “I know that and I’m damn sorry, Sam.” His voice was crisp and steady but his eyes wavered.

Sam sighed, eyes back on the water. “We were getting somewhere, man. And you just…” He flicked his hand out. “Disappeared on me.” He paused.

“I shouldn’t have left you...especially at such an ambiguous time for us.” Bucky stumbled slightly on his words.

Sam took a long blink, remembering the ‘unforgettable’ feeling of being held again. “I’m more hurt by the fact that I got nothing but radio silence from you-” He swallowed. “Past that-” He glanced at Bucky “Thing we had just started. I thought we’d reached a point where we could communicate.” He shrugged with muted emotion. “We were friends.” He added with a slight question in his voice. He watched Bucky’s eyes flicker with guilt.

“If you had given me a heads up, maybe. That’s all.” Sam patted his thigh. “I can understand needing space. I understand that even answering texts can be difficult as hell when your mind feels sick. I’ve been there, Buck. Shit’s hard.” He felt a dark twist in his stomach and tried not to dwell in his own memories. “I don’t hold this against you. I know you’re a good guy.” Sam made sure Bucky looked him in the eye for that particular sentiment. “But you should know how I felt about it. Whatever relationship we end up having; Friends, co-workers, partners-” He flicked his fingers. “I’d hope you’d think about how your decisions affect me.”

They held the next silence for a few minutes, Bucky seemingly taking in what he’d said. “For me, it was like I blinked and you were gone with the wind. I didn’t know how you were doing for months--if you were even okay. But then, out of the blue, you come back and you’re pissed about something that wasn’t about you.” Sam shrugged, feeling a bit lighter for every word he’d been simmering on for weeks.

Bucky grimaced, looking extremely pained. “I’m really sorry, Sam.” He repeated himself with genuine regret. The light around them bled darker. “I let a lot of my intrusive thoughts control me.” He hissed at his own words but quickly moved on. “Part of me let it happen because I’m not sure I could handle a competent hand on the wheel. I’ve lived as the...Winter Soldier longer than Bucky, you know-? And Holy shit that’s something I try not to perceive.” He turned, hoping he wasn’t over-sharing. “It’s terrifying to think it’s just in my nature...being destructive. I’m always nervous-” He paused again. “Not that I’m going to hurt someone--but the feeling that I need to will bleed back into me…” His voice faded off again as he picked at a loose string on his jeans.

“This is something you’re talking about in therapy, right?” Sam quirked his brow, needing the answer to be yes but the distant pain in his head reminded him that he dodged plenty of shit from his therapist.

Bucky nodded and before Sam could speak again, asked the question he’d been aching to for months. “I want to go back to you-”

“Of course you do.” Sam chuckled.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “How have you been, really?”

Sam thought for a minute. “Working myself to death, mostly.” He laughed, though it didn’t sound happy at all. “Been seeing Sarah and the boys as much as I can…”

The sky purpled, darkness bleeding into the orange hues. The stars would soon be visible and Bucky was almost positive Sam would now push the question off, neglecting the details. For as much as he complains that Bucky doesn’t talk about himself enough, Sam often avoids voicing his own feelings.

“Sarah was swamped and anxious, despite what she says-”

“And what were you feeling, Samuel?” Bucky playfully tapped his friend’s knee with a smug grin.

Sam rolled his eyes but grinned slightly at the familiar teasing. He wasn’t sure how to put his thoughts into words so he turned back to the water. “Thought a lot about the soul stone, actually.” The sentence rolled casually off his tongue but did nothing to relieve the stress it’d been causing him.

Bucky tried to remain stoic but a glint of concern shined over his eyes. The infinity stone felt somehow personal between them. Though nobody had memories of their time dusted, Sam and Bucky came out with a new sense of intimacy for each other. It was as if something happened in those 5 years, which felt like only a brief nap to them and in that blip, they’d connected. Falling together was comfortingly natural after that.

“My last thought before I...dusted, was ‘Maybe I’ll get to see Riley.’ ” Sam whizzed his palm in the air, voice breaking slightly and definitely against his will.

Bucky’s heart twitched. They’d gone dancing in the evening after Tony Stark’s funeral. It was the most blissful Bucky’d ever been and he’d spent the night in Sam’s hotel room doing the most talking he’d ever spoken. Nothing physical happened nor did either man think of it, they were too busy soaking up all the information they could get from the other before the night ended. They could truly get to know each other for the first time.

Bucky went on about his family, as much as he could remember anyway. Sam talked of his parents; Paul and Darlene and eventually trailed his way to Riley.

Sam halted his next thought for a few minutes because it was damn hard to illustrate. “I know we weren’t actually dead-” He rolled his lips together “Or maybe we were, still not clear on all that.” He sighed into another little laugh. “But I just want a few more minutes with him...you know?”

Bucky nodded, giving him a ‘go on’ expression.

“I guess our souls were floating around in the stone but--” He broke off, looking down at the water. “For five years, Both our names were on gravestones and in all that time, I couldn’t just see or feel him one time?” Fists now clenched into tight fists. His body language was horrifyingly angry, contrasting the deep despair that was the expression on his face. He was almost sure that none of his words made sense, they’d been jumbling around in him for months like a virus and to be regurgitated so suddenly felt...messy.

The radio, which Sam had long forgotten about, continued to roll-out soft volume static above glimpses of songs. “Fuck, Sam--” Bucky squinted towards the sky, taking in the brief glance into Sam’s head. “I know exactly what you mean…” He turned quickly, admiring Sam’s presence as his adoration for the man thumped like the heart-beat in his chest. “I always figured I’d never get that peace with my family...but I always assumed it’d be for some iteration of Hell.” He rubbed his palm against his neck and laughed.

Sam elbowed him lightly, forcing Bucky to find his words again.

“Knowing--through you and how I feel about you--” Bucky gestured between them. “That I had a mellow...impermanent afterlife(?) yet still didn’t get to see my family...well it feels like I was cheated.” He shrugged.

“I don’t think your soul’s going anywhere bad, Buck. Don’t know what happens after we’re gone for good but you’re not ditching me again.” He drifted off, feeling a sudden unbearable disappointment. “Nat’ll be there too.”

Bucky took in a breath, enjoying the tickling static of Sam’s hand. “Riley too, don’t worry about that, ok?” He tapped Sam’s hand. “I think, when we go back into the weeds and the dirt--”

“That’s a tender way of putting it, Bucky.” Sam blinked, trying not to put himself in an internal coffin because he was significantly chilled now.

Bucky smiled. “I think we get the peace of nothing. Just a return to nature with the souls of those we loved.” He rubbed his finger into the corner of his eye like a grandpa and sighed. “I’ve seen and experienced a lot of the Heaven/Hell folklore in my life and I’m not crazy about it, Sam” He wagged his finger and Sam pushed him slightly with a nice feeling of content.

“We can only comfort ourselves, nothing greater will do it for us. So we write ourselves a multitude of fiction that may, or may not, ease us into accepting death.” Sam bumped their elbows together and eyed a distant bird as it darted across and just above the water.

“I’m glad whatever it was that happened between us in that stone, happened.” Bucky added sheepishly. Turning to look at his partner under the increasingly vivid stars, Bucky hiccupped as a huge wave of affection hit him. “Cause I really like you, Sam.”

"But don't discredit yourself. It wasn't just the stone that magically brought us together--" Bucky lightly pushed Sam's bicep. "I-...I can't begin to explain how much it means to me that you made an effort to be my friend...even during the last few months of me ghosting you and not listening to you about the shield. You didn't have to do that."

Somewhere supper was threatening to get cold and Sarah was playing their meals with a concerned frown, Sam just knew that sister of his too well. He hoped to scrap together just a bit more time. "What can I say?" He smiled "I like you too. People need people, Buck. I wasn't gonna sit back and let you cut yourself off."

Bucky laid back on the dock, laying his palm flat to his chest. He repeated the phrase over and over in his head. 'People need people.' "Goes both ways, you know Sam?" He spoke with deep confidence but continued to laze on the dock, trying to find an angle where the sun was blocked and he could stare up at Sam. “Meaning, I hope you’ve been letting Sarah help you out...and seeing your therapist.”

Sam gently smacked his hand atop Bucky’s like a comforting beat of thunder. “Giving my best effort.” He nodded thoughtfully.

Bucky fluttered his eyes with the pace of his heart. “This is the first time I’ve seen you so...still, Wilson.”

Sam tossed his head back and laughed, knowing Bucky had hit the nail on the head with that one. The back of his neck cooled as he watched the slates of wood under them pale. The glimmers of tired orange light died and vapid pastel-white tones took their place, nestled in the cracks. Part of him wanted to disagree though he hadn’t the spirit. “I don’t like relaxing because it gives me too much time inside myself.”

Bucky nodded, encouraging Sam to go on. Fearing the man would never pick it up again if he suddenly decided to close himself off again.

“There’s too much to do...I feel like I don’t deserve it.” Sam shrugged, a clear illustration of his frustration. He’d definitely pulled this thread a few million times in his life.

“Don’t deserve it?” Bucky sat up just a little, resting on his forearms, he slanted his head as if the adoring smile was just too heavy. “C’mon Doll--” He cut himself off a bit too late.

“Slipping back into old habits, huh?” Sam rolled his eyes but waved a dismissive hand. “You’re cute.” He teased, shoving the guy gently.

Bucky played along, pretending Sam had used enough of that strength of his to knock him back onto the dock. “I think now is a great time for a few days off Sam.”

The man hummed, thinking about the public...what they expected of their new ‘Captain America’ and what the flicker of the new spot-light in his favor revealed about those who loved Steve for all the wrong reasons. Knowing, as a black man, he’d have to go above and beyond all those assumptions just to garner the same amount of respect they gave Steve. The anger he felt from that was righteous but god forbid he show any sense of hurt because then he’d just be labeled ‘ungrateful’ and ‘giving people grief’. He rubbed under his eye with a longing sigh. “I can’t really afford that right now, Buck.”

His body shivered as he tried to push away the intrusive images; Walker slamming into the man over and over without hesitation, thick puddles of blood covering his shield, carrying Karli’s lifeless body over an audience where half of the people celebrated her death...perceiving and exploiting her as another ‘super-villain’.

“Hey.” Bucky softly sat up and pulled Sam’s elbow until their eyes met. “I’ve been told I’m a great listener.” He didn’t pull away, instead hesitantly he curled his hand around Sam’s arm. His fingers pressed dimples into Sam’s skin. Bucky nestled there and his friend exhaled a little, unclenching his body.

“It’s daunting.” He nodded to himself before tipping his chin to face Bucky. “A bucket doesn’t hold a tidal wave but that’s all I got.” He shrugged, noticing Bucky’s quirked brow. “Something my dad used to say...meaning there’s too much to say so I gotta give you a shitty summary, you know?” He shook his head.

“I know I’m one to talk but try using more words...buzz-words if you have to.” Bucky looked momentarily proud of his modern vocabulary and squeezed Sam’s arm tighter.

Sam chuckled. “Let’s say...nerve-wrecking.” He added, bumping his elbow into Bucky’s side. “With all that’s happened...I’m worried--” He landed on a word he felt comfortable with. “Being Captain America...it’s heavy on my shoulders, man. I know I can do it, I trust myself when it comes down to the wire. I hold myself to my standards.” He trailed off again, listening to distant sounds of kids skipping rocks across the water. “I know where this job’s going to take me and I’m ok with that, glad to do it.” He looked back at Bucky with determined eyes.

“I’m not concerned with my fate.” Another deep breath racked his body, he wasn’t used to being so utterly serious with his current company. “I think about how it ended for Tony and I worry about the kid--”

Bucky nodded, He’d only briefly been aware of Stark’s ‘surrogate’ son and spoke a handful of words to him at the funeral, Sam and Wanda at his side.

Sam rubbed his neck with his free hand, feeling intense pressure all over his body. All his limbs tingled as if they were asleep. He’d not realized the true extent of how much this had been eating away at him. Speaking of eating, dinner was for sure cold by now…“Met his Aunt at the funeral.” She’d been proud of her boy but behind her eyes lived guttural fear, Sam knew that much. “I’m thinking about Rhodey because I sure as hell know the pain of losing your best friend.”

Bucky tightened his grip on Sam even further. He’d lost Steve so many times but the time had come for the permanent end and by then...well had they even felt like best friends anymore?

“I can’t even figure out what’s going on with Wanda.” Sam clicked his tongue with a bitter chuckle. “Girl’s doing her best to stay off the grid and I can’t imagine that’s good for her. I know Torres can handle himself but I wonder if I should be helping him more. Not to mention Bruce. What the hell is his mental state right now?” He added with a confused wave of his hand. “I’m even worrying about Scott!” Sam rubbed at his eyebrow and sighed. “This is all beside Sarah and the kids, who I’m constantly thinking about.” He laughed, voice strained and tired.

Bucky waited a few seconds, just to make sure Sam had finished. In that short moment, his heart swelled for him. “You’re a good person, Sam. But you’re only one man.” He shook him just a little bit. “Truthfully, You’ll always be concerned for them. It’s just in your nature. Don’t fight the intrusive thoughts...accept their presence and remember you’ve got a team.” Bucky trailed off, going over what he’d just said again in his head.

Sam’s shoulders sank with another deep sigh. “Thanks, Buck.” He swiped his hand down his face and noticed how much lighter he felt.

Bucky responded physically. He tugged Sam down with him as he laid back on the dock, shoulders bumping together harmoniously which sent chills through Bucky’s entire body. The good kind...maybe the amazing kind. Hell, they tingled under his skin just about every moment he spent with Sam. That deeply buried fear that he might spend the rest of his life making himself excruciatingly uncomfortable in his own body, trapped under his skin which was always crawling, faded from the realm of possibility each time Sam’s presence flushed Bucky with comfortable jitters.

“You’re getting good taste, by the way-”

Bucky only squinted at him, still half in deep thought. So Sam started Otis’s whistling again and watched his friend realize what he was talking about. His nose scrunched up while he nodded.

“How do you decide what to listen to?” Sam turned, they were nearly nose-to-nose. “I mean, how do you narrow it down when you’ve got decades to catch up on?” Sam’s mind flickered through artists like a jukebox--which was 1 thing he’d always wanted to buy, a real old school one.

Bucky shifted his jaw, making an eerie click, a precursor to his amused grin. “I made a list of artists I remember liking before…” He waved his hand, turning slightly to watch the dewey clouds cover the moon. “And the periods in-and-out of being frozen...I have a list of what I remember by decade-” He chuckled.

Sam sat up on his forearms. “I’d like to see these lists. The record set-up in Sarah’s living room is not a decoration, you know? It’s almost as great as mine back in D.C.” He grinned, thinking about the days, so far gone now. Mama and Sarah dancing around the kitchen.

“It really faded off during the 80’s.” Bucky pushed up to level himself next to Sam. “And not that I’ve had much time, mind you--” he laughed. “But from there, I just follow what I’m fond of like family trees and consider the few recommendations I’ve collected.” He trailed off, starting to do the Otis whistle again.

Sam let him follow through to the end, anticipating the tender connotations of the song to come after this day ended. “Out of all these decades...who are your favorite artists? Just curious.” Sam grinned. The answer to this question spoke loudly about a person, in his opinion.

Bucky looked thoughtfully content with the question, grin cocking a bit to the right as he held out his fist above him. “I’d have to say...Ella-” He flicked out a thumb, no last name necessary. Sam knew that woman like the back of his hand.

“Nat King Cole-” Bucky softened his eyes, searching again for that unforgettable memory in Sam, and smiling when the expression was reciprocated in his eyes which shimmered like sunlight through the trees. “Roy Orbison.” Two more metal fingers curled down. “John Denver and Billy Joel.” He let his hand fall back to his chest, satisfied for only a few seconds. “But I really love Judy Garland too.”

“So you like the mellow ballads--” He hummed. “Slow and kinda sad, huh?” Sam bumped his arm lightly. It made good sense to him. Bucky enjoyed the peace which came effortlessly from lone singer-songwriters. His five--or rather six--showed a natural progression.

“What about you?” Bucky asked, in a calm tone of voice though his eyes read eager.

“Marvin Gaye, Sam Cooke, The Drifters…” Sam paused, really thinking over his picks. “Earth Wind and Fire, Linda Ronstadt and since you got a bonus...Billie Holiday.” Sam rested his palm flat on his chest, content to feel the steady beating that let him know he was still alive. A rich sense of comfort rushed over him as if a fresh load of laundry had just been dropped on his still body. There’d been too many days in his life where that buried thumping was only a reminder of non-stop existence, like a neverending rollercoaster. Installing him with dread, guilt and panic. He was glad to find those days fewer and farther between.

“You make me feel like I’m livin’ in a Drifters song, Doll.” Bucky was only half teasing, for he was speaking a genuine thought but wasn’t sure how welcome it’d be.

“I like that one.” Sam hummed, turning his cheek once more toward the man beside him. “Tell me how you really feel.” He hiked himself up fully to return to his seated position, legs dangling over the side and casting faint shadows of foot-steps on the water.

Bucky paused with concern, not sure he understood the reply before he processed it fully. He wanted to smirk but the sentiment out-weighed the amusement. He sat up too, pulling one knee up to rest an arm over while the other dangled next to Sam’s. “I got it bad, Sam.” He made their wandering eyes meet.

“Me too.” Sam nodded with that dazzling grin. “You’re under my skin, what can I say?” He shook his head and tried to let his smile fade, finding he couldn’t.

“If they weren’t gone...I’d be buggin’ you to meet my family.” Bucky ignored the twist in his gut because Sam’s reactions were his comfort. “Though who’s to say how they’d feel about the….” He trailed off and Sam nodded. “You being a fella part of it--”

“A fella of color, too.” Sam added with a bit of a smirk.

“Fuck.” Bucky cursed quietly and playfully tugged Sam’s hand. They curled their fingers together in an exquisitely natural way. “They loved me…” His face stilled with longing. “I’d like to think--But maybe it’s best not to go down that road. I don’t believe I turned out how they’d wanted anyway.” He chuckled, pitfully.

Sam tightened their grip on each other for a minute. “I know what you mean.” He bumped their folded hands onto Bucky’s thigh. “I’m always wondering what my parents would think of all this…” He flicked his free hand. “My career?” He almost wanted to laugh with astonished pride. Never had he expected to grow up to be a superhero. “Riley too.” He felt there was more to say but his mouth fell shut.

“Just a way to hurt ourselves, I guess.” Bucky shrugged. “And we sure as Hell love to do that.”

They laughed, sort of sadly. The full night sky enriched them with gentle peace, strengthened by the soft light of the stars. The temperature dropped considerably since Sam had initially come out. But he didn’t mind the nice chill, it braced his skin and left him with tingling goosebumps. It reminded Sam how real the moment actually was. Paying less attention to the hearty sloshes of water, Sam picked up his radio.

‘Come a little bit closer

Hear what I have to say

Just like children sleepin'

We could dream this night away…’

He might have heard the song before, couldn’t be sure, and if he was alone he might have continued flipping stations just in case an older favorite was slipping through his fingers. But Bucky began to hum with the tune.

‘But there's a full moon risin'

Let's go dancin' in the light

We know where the music's playin'

Let's go out and feel the night…’

Sam gathered himself up from the creaky dock, stretching his body little by little and watching Bucky’s wandering eyes. He gently held out his hands which was enough of a sign for Bucky to happily grab them and pull himself up.

Sam shoved the radio in his pocket with a smile and though Bucky was more than just pleased to see him so jovial, he also felt a flicker of nervousness. “Man...for the first time in a while, I feel lucky as Hell.”

‘Because I'm still in love with you

I want to see you dance again

Because I'm still in love with you

On this harvest moon…’

Sam raised his brow and initiated the first few dance steps with his partner hardly noticing the movement at all. “How’s that?”

“I’m lucky to be in love with someone I like so much.” Bucky puffed out a relaxed sigh with his words and finally leaned into the dancing with real vigor. “Sam, I’ve never wanted to spend my life with someone as badly as I do with you.”

Wind whistled past their shoulders but Sam felt perfectly warm. He let Bucky take the lead and allowed himself to be spun. The cool light of the moon acted as a highlighter, beams of translucent white caressed the shape of Sam’s body. Following the curve of his hips and sliding down the length of his legs. “Growing old with you...becoming a cranky old man couple, that sounds like fun.” He spoke as if he hadn’t had true fun in years which was probably true.

A bush fondly bloomed under Bucky’s skin. Behind his fluttering eyelashes, Bucky indulged for once in his life. To drink in all that was this man in front of him.

However Sam’s eyes were now focused on a cupped hand, which had somehow slipped from Bucky’s, where a yellow toned light would flicker every few seconds. Whenever the yellow light skimmed his face, he would grin with pure joy.

“You never caught a firefly before, Sam?” Bucky asked in jest, with a huff of amused laughter.

Sam gently guided the bug into Bucky’s face.

“Oh, fuck! You asshole” Bucky scrunched up his nose and swatted dramatically at his nose. “I change my mind, cancel my idea. Gonna crawl back into the absolute hole that is my apartment--” He playfully backed away from his friend.

Before Bucky could slip the last inch of his skin from Sam’s hand, the man used the full strength of his extended arm to fiercely pull him back and into his chest. Like a damn professional dancer. “I’ve been seeing myself from grief’s eyes for too damn long. Think I’m ready to take control of my own life. I want to be with you.” He playfully grinned. “What about you?”

Bucky glowed in Sam’s arms. “For a long time, I lost my sense of self…” He scratched behind his ear. “But never my fuckin’ point of view.” His voice broke just a little. “I had to see and feel every horrendous thing the Winter Soldier did. “I’ll bear the consequences for the rest of my life and I accept that.” He shook his head. “But I’m ready to accept happiness too. I really want to be with you, Sam.”

Sam nodded, content as he’d ever been. “I think we should get our dinner before Sarah comes to drag us by our ears.”

Bucky pressed a sweet kiss, full of longing and fulfillment. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.” He laughed, taking Sam’s arm and pulling him down the dock with a spring in both their steps.

‘But now it's gettin' late

And the moon is climbin' high

I want to celebrate

See it shinin' in your eye’

‘Because I'm still in love with you

I want to see you dance again

Because I'm still in love with you

On this harvest moon’

#sambucky #is this good?#idk #i feel too awful to focus #sam wilson #Bucky Barnes #winterfalcon #the falcon and the winter soldier #sarah wilson #my fanfiction #tell me what you think #Marvel Comics #marvel #MCU #marvel fanfiction

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sparring-hyena · 4 years

Text

the colours of love.

i got introspective about colours in my own futile attempt to understand love. anyhow, i wrote it down and now you wonderful folks can read this little thing if ya’ want :)

i. pink

she has to start here. it’s Poppy’s colour, and it’s where AJ likes to think their story begun. not with red or green; rather a flash pink followed by everything else.

it was Poppy’s pink jacket that AJ saw first. and then there were sharp words being thrown at her. sharp words which did not sound at all like pink.

pink is sweet and soft and kind. it’s supposed to mean universal love and harmony. those words Poppy threw at AJ that afternoon sounded a lot like red. and so the illusion of pink faded.

but the pink was still there. it was just so easy to cover with the heat of red.

ii. red

it seems obvious—red. the passion and the power, the desire and the anger. but there’s more to it than that. the power is self-explanatory—Poppy craves power. but the passion, desire, and anger is a bit more complex.

they started as enemies—there’s no sugar coating that. they would spit ugly words at each other, hurl insults back and forth that burned like fire. that’s the anger. but anger always hides something—this time it was fear.

it was after one of their verbal sparing matches. they’d bumped into each other while leaving the library sometime after midnight. except their insults hadn’t cut quite as deep this time. hadn’t stung nearly as much. they’d moved closer together and only realised how little space was between them once they both fell quiet, their breaths coming out laboured.

and then they’d kissed. had Poppy kissed AJ or was it the other way around? years later, Poppy will insist it’s the latter—that AJ’s the one who kissed her—and AJ will smile and say something akin to whatever you say, love.

it doesn’t really matter who kissed who because it was over almost as soon as it had begun. and then Poppy had stormed off, angry like red, but angry because she was scared.

it was a week later that they ran into each other at some frat party while waiting in line for the bathroom. AJ had smirked and winked at her, hooking her fingers through her belt loops. so Poppy said a fuck you to fear, and pulled AJ into the bathroom where she came twice on her fingers.

it was never really discussed, but they both knew they weren’t sworn enemies anymore. fuck buddies, AJ would say and Poppy would roll her eyes because can’t you have a little bit of class?

red hung around for a bit, and AJ thinks that’s because red is really great at hiding feelings.

iii. green

this one is a little different. it was a sort of natural progression, really.

there was jealousy—on both parts mind you. and words that sounded hopeful like yellow, but they weren’t ready for yellow, so they fought like red instead.

but then Poppy had said, “please don’t leave. not you too.” her voice a pained whisper.

AJ knew then that she never would. she took a few tentative steps forward and pulled Poppy into a tight hug. her promise went unsaid, but it was loud enough for Poppy to hear.

and then they’d worked on healing and understanding, because that’s what green is all about. and this is right when green became yellow.

iv. yellow

yellow is clarity, AJ decides. she doesn’t care if someone wants to argue that it’s happiness or creativity or something else like that. to her it’s clarity. because it was when she and Poppy were walking to class one morning—the sun in the sky—that she realised she was in love. and she wasn’t scared at all.

“i love you,” AJ had said, only half aware that she’d spoken aloud.

Poppy stopped walking, head tilted just-so to the side as she looked at AJ.

“why’d you stop?” AJ asked.

“you said you loved me.”

“yeah,” AJ said, like it was obvious and simple and not the first time she was saying it out loud. “i love you.”

a smile bloomed across Poppy’s face. and then she whispered, “i love you too,” before kissing AJ sweetly on the lips.

v. blue

this almost feels like the final stage, AJ thinks. not in the sense that they have a finite number of days until their relationship implodes. rather this is what the’ve been working towards all along. blue like the ocean, maybe. deep and endless, so maybe they will go on forever.

they bicker a lot, throw little playful remarks at each other that lack all the fire of red. the fire of red is still there, just calmed by the blue of the ocean. so now they’re open. now they talk and laugh, share their hopes and fears and somehow manage to fall just a little bit more.

they still fight too, because all couples fight. but they’re blue like the ocean—choppy from time-to-time, but always eventually calms.

they are blue.

#my writing #poppy x mc #poppy min sinclair #queen b #playchoices #i did kinda yeet canon out the window while writing this #but canon had it coming so it doesn't really matter :)

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glacecakes · 3 years

Text

Alchemy Lullaby (17/17)

Of all the changes that came with living in the castle, becoming a father was not one he anticipated. When Eugene encounters a small child suffering like he did, he gives them the opportunity to grow up the way he never did… helping them both heal. (AU where Varian is 4 and gets adopted by Eugene)

Varian reunites with his real family. Fred gets dunked on. Eugene and Rapunzel surprise each other.

WE ARE AT THE END OH MY GOD ;-; sorry this took so long I have not been vibing but yknow. It be like that. First off, a big thanks to everyone who has helped me on this crazy journey. The scar and 7K server being my serotonin machine (if you wanna join dm me), AJ and Gues for helping me with ideas, and of course Finn, my partner in crime, the platonic love of my life, without who this crazy mess would probably not have been completed. And of course, all of you who have commented and kudos'd and bookmarked. This fic just passed Only as Strong in hits and that totally blows my mind.

I have so many lil baby ideas that were either too short to go here, or happen after AL, or didn't go with the story flow that I want to write! I'm debating whether to do it like VVO where they're all in one fic or just spam the varian tag. As always please leave a comment if you enjoyed this, thank you so much! If you have any specific requests for baby oneshots I'm always open!

Ok ok enough rambling

The moonstone clattered to the ground, dull and quiet like any other rock.

For a few moments, no one spoke. The only sound was Quirin’s heavy breathing, exhausted, as he slumped over Ulla’s slowly cooling body.

“Well…” Eugene finally breathed. “That was… something.” The adrenaline finally began to wear off, replacing a feral desire to protect with burns and shaky hands. In his arms Varian doesn’t stir, the soft breath against his arm the only sign he’s still alive.

“Understatement of the fucking century,” Cassandra groans. The decay incantation settled deep into their bones, making every movement painful. The only one unaffected was Rapunzel, protected by the golden pulse in her chest. She moves her hand to reveal a golden stone, similar to the moonstone.

“Millennium ago, a phenomenal event had divided an ancient power in two. The Sundrop and Moondrop fell to Earth; two elements waiting to be reunited…” She glanced up at Quirin, confusion written all over her face.

Slowly, shakily, she stood up and stumbled over. This was the one time she wanted shoes, what with the blood pooling at her toes. The man at her feet said nothing, simply staring down at the body with empty eyes. She heard whispers of soft footsteps behind her, indicating Eugene had followed with Varian in tow.

Quirin’s mind was a whirlwind, chattering faster than he’d ever spoken. What ifs, curses, screams, but despite all that…

He didn’t feel guilty. Not in the slightest.

Was that wrong of him? He just killed the mother of his child, the only woman he ever loved, and he felt nothing. Well, he felt relief. But regret, guilt, sorrow? None. Was this fatherly protection? His devotion to his king? Did he fall out of love? Maybe it was a mix of three. But then again, the woman he fell in love with and the woman he just killed were two wildly different people. Had she always been crazy and he’d just been blind, or did the moonstone corrupt her from its place in her womb?

It seems parenthood can change you for better or worse.

The princess kneeled down next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. When he glanced up she smiled briefly, before glancing down at her breast. “Is this…?”

“The sundrop,” Quirin breathed, awe-stricken. “But how?” He glanced down at the woman (corpse) at his feet, and then over to Eugene and Varian.

With a grunt, Rapunzel ripped it free from her body. It hummed faintly, bathing her in a golden glow that illuminated her hair back to blonde. How magnificent and haunting all at once; the source of her power that caused so much pain to her family, that caused her kidnapping… that caused her to meet the love of her life.

It would be so easy to simply… reclaim it. To reabsorb its magic and regain the power to heal. But when she glanced around, at the destruction caused by its counterpart…

“The only way to destroy the moonstone.” She said with an air of finality, clutching it tightly in her fist. “Is to reunite it with its equal.” Quirin nodded in agreement. It was kind of amusing, that the destruction of a cosmic entity was merely an afterthought in this scenario.

Just tying up loose ends.

In another reality, maybe Rapunzel and Eugene and Varian would have sought the moonstone out. Maybe they would have debated whether or not to reunite the stones, unsure of the damage it would cause to Rapunzel.

But maybe someone else would have stolen it, harnessed it, and caused even more suffering untold. To her, to her friends, to her family…

A moan came from Eugene’s arms as Varian squirmed. His eyes remained shut, but he reached out a tiny hand for his dad to grasp. Internally, Eugene gave a massive sigh of relief. He’d been so worried that his son was gone, that he wouldn’t wake up without the moonstone. If that had been the case… god, he didn’t know what he’d do. Well, actually, Eugene knew exactly what he’d do (that being to reinsert the moonstone), but whether or not Quirin would let him is a whole other story.

“Bluebird? Can you hear me?” He whispered, gently shaking the boy. It was weird to see him without his signature hair stripe, almost as weird as long-haired-brunette Rapunzel.

“Daddy… m’ tired,” Varian whined, curling into a warm chest and breathing in familiar cologne. He sighed, content. He would’ve fallen back asleep if not for Eugene gently rustling him.

“Sorry bud, I need you to wake up for a little bit,” he whispered, biting back a smile. With an overdramatic groan, Varian opened his eyes. It was a familiar routine. Almost as if they were back home and he was just waking Varian up for the day. “How do you feel? Does anything hurt?”

“My throat...” he was cut off by a weak cough.

“Aw bud, I’m sorry, we’ll get you checked out at home, ok?” At Varian’s nod Eugene let out a massive sigh of relief. “I think Rapunzel needs you for a second.” He raised his eyes up to his girlfriend, who was now trailing a finger down Varian’s cheek.

With a small smile, she helped Varian out of his dad’s arms and placed him onto the ground by her side. “Would you like to help me get rid of the rocks?” She asked, and he bit his thumb while nodding shyly. His eyes had trailed over to Quirin and… Rapunzel was quick to move her hair in the way. He didn’t need to see that.

With a heavy, shaking hand, Quirin’s gloved hand reached out for the moonstone. He hesitated briefly, anxiously. What if it was absorbed by him? No, he couldn’t falter. He’d waited this long, salvation was within reach!

He grasped it tight. It didn’t react. Perhaps it knew the sundrop was close? Or maybe it knew Quirin didn’t want to use it? Regardless, he didn’t question it. Shaking, he stood up to his full height and ambled over to mother and son. He and Varian locked eyes for a moment. The boy’s eyes were troubled, clouded with hazy fear, confusion, but also… acceptance?

Quirin smiled. He held the stone out. “Would you like to do the honors, young man?” He whispered.

“Um. Yea, ok.” Varian said and took it into his tiny hands. He was so small, what was dwarfed in Quirin’s hands required both of Varian’s to hold. He looked up at Rapunzel, who’s own stone began to flare with power as it sensed its other half.

Eugene placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “Are we sure this is a good idea?”

“Nope!” Cassandra snorted at the kid’s candor.

“But whatever happens…” Rapunzel said, “We’ll face it together, as a family.” She looked pointedly over at Cassandra, who rolled her eyes.

“Alright alright, I’m coming,” She said.

“Yes, Auntie Cassie, join us!” Eugene chimed, earning an elbow in the arm.

She stood on Rapunzel’s side, supporting her best friend as she held out the sundrop. Eugene readjusted so he was holding onto Varian from behind.

Quirin stood aside, finally content.

The stones touched.

Varian skipped down the hallway with Ruddiger and cart in tow. The raccoon reached his tiny hands out, determined to swipe an apple from a nearby display. Just a little closer…!

The raccoon blinked as the apple vanished. He could’ve sworn it was there just a second ago… confused beady eyes glanced up at his best friend, only to chitter in delight when he saw Varian had stolen it. The child took a bite before handing it to Ruddiger to finish.

“Excuse me!” Varian said to one of the maids (Faith? Felicity? Names are hard) “Have you seen mommy and Auntie Cassie?”

The maid giggled. “In her highness’s room, I believe.”

“Thank you miss!” He called. Faith shook her head, smiling. That boy was awful at sleight of hand, considering his father, but no one would care about a single apple.

Things had been pretty quiet since coming home, in all honesty. In Varian’s opinion, a bit boring even.

Well, the first few days home weren’t so quiet. Upon arriving at the palace all had been rushed to the infirmary, only to be let go with minor injuries. The only exception was Varian, who was confined to bed rest for a week. Getting poisoned half to death will do that to you.

He’d spent the week constantly in the presence of his family who rotated out. He’d wake up to Rapunzel’s soft voice with breakfast handmade by Lance, light exercise with Cassandra (that usually involved learning how to use a wooden sword). Then Arianna would come teach him something, either basic Coronian history or math. He’d nap with Ruddiger, and finally Eugene would spend the rest of the day with him, from dinner to bedtime. It was paradise to the little boy.

At some point during the week, Hugo came by with a get well soon gift. He’d gushed to Varian nonstop about all they’d done in school, how cool the castle was, and hey is that a raccoon?

Hugo’s mom (who apparently knew Ulla, judging by her crestfallen face upon hearing her fate) watched over the boys while the king and Quirin got chewed out. Less so Quirin, since he already made up for it by, y’know, killing his ex.

“Let me get this straight, you changed the law after my kidnapping so birth parents always have primary custody?” Rapunzel rubbed her temples, frustrated. Frederick, for his part, at least looked guilty.

“I wasn’t sure if you would’ve wanted to stay with whoever was raising you…!”

“I feel like any little girl who finds out they’re a long lost princess would rather live with her birth parents,” Eugene muttered.

“I was so worried about getting found out, that once it happened, I didn’t bother to actually look into it, I just… UGH! You should’ve at LEAST repealed it the second I came home!”

“I… forgot?”

“SERIOUSLY?”

In the end, it was agreed that the law not only hurt Varian, but dozens of other abandoned kids who could never be adopted now. Suffice to say, it did not survive the day. In fact, Rapunzel immediately got to work creating a service for saving abused kids, and appointed Eugene in charge.

“There’s no one here who could do better than you,” She said. “You suffered under our systems, and then saved our boy from the same fate. Twice. I trust that you’ll figure it out.”

Eugene smiled wetly, pressing his forehead to Rapunzel’s. “Sunshine, you’re going to be an amazing Queen, you know that?” He brushed a lock of hair out of her face. Now that her hair was breakable, she’d debated whether or not to cut it. Long hair was a part of her identity, after all, but without it’s magic she wasn’t sure it was worth the upkeep. In the end, she decided to cut it back, not as short as before, but rather a comfortable bob.

“And you’ll be amazing by my side.” She said, placing a kiss.

Eugene wasn’t the only one to get an upgrade. Apparently Cassandra and her dad working together on the breakout plan meant he got to see her in action, as well as her dedication to protecting the royal family. Now, she was officially a royal guard, training to replace her father someday.

Which meant Lance, as instructor, was her boss.

Eugene feared for his life.

Varian turned a corner before lifting Ruddiger out of the cart. He was getting heavy, and the cart couldn’t do stairs well on its own. Together they bounded up the steps into his mom’s room.

“Hi Mama!” he cheered, running into her embrace. She easily scooped him up and twirled him around, prompting delighted squeals. Ruddiger curled around Rapunzel’s neck, joining Pascal.

“How’s my baby boy today?” She chimed.

“I’m good! Miss grandma said to come here,” He had no clue what to call Arianna; between the queen insisted she be grandma, the king wanted her to be addressed by title, and Eugene calling her ma’am, it all jumbled up in his head.

“Yes, we need your help!” She said.

Cassandra grimaced. “You need his help, I want no part in this.”

“Aw, don’t be like that!”

“Listen, Raps, I adore you, but your taste in men is atrocious. And coming from me that’s a low blow.” She stuck her tongue out at the little one who let out a squawk of protest. With a wave, she left the room.

“What’s wrong with daddy!?” He cried after her, raising a fist. “Fight me!”

“Let’s not fight family, ok? Remember how well the last time turned out?” Rapunzel hissed between her teeth. Varian cocked his head, confused.

“But I won last time.”

Can’t argue with that.

“Speaking of that…” Rapunzel hummed, carrying Varian over to her walls. From floor to ceiling paint covered nearly every surface, detailing her life and all the people in it. Front and center was a portrait of their family. Varian was nestled in between his mom and dad, with a beaming smile. “I know you won our fight for Eugene’s love but, I still love him. You know that, yea?”

“Mhm.”

“Well…” Her eyes trailed over to another drawing, this one much smaller; that of her coronation, when she’d turned down his proposal.

It’d been about six months since that fateful day, six months that Varian has been with them. In that time Varian turned five. While they didn’t know his exact birthday, Quirin had been helpful in estimating around when Varian had been born, and they picked a random date around late March. It had been a pretty small party, what with everyone still reeling a bit. But it was nonetheless momentous for two reasons: one, Eugene’s gift to Varian had been his official adoption papers, and two, Rapunzel had decided she was ready to marry Eugene. Seeing her son so happy in the man’s arms… she wanted that. She wanted it forever.

Hence why she asked Varian to come see her.

“You know what marriage is, right bud?” At his confirmation, she continued. “Well, me and your dad aren’t married… but I want to change that. If we got married, I’d become your mom officially, like how Eugene adopted you. Do you… would you like that?”

Varian blinked a few times. The gears in his head whirred to life, slowly cranking out a response. Finally, his sky blue eyes lit up in understanding and happiness. Mama wanted to stay with him forever! He nodded so fast it hurt, and he had to stop after a few seconds.

“Thanks, baby,” Rapunzel said, overcome with joy. “Now, you can’t tell anyone about this, ok? I want it to be a surprise for daddy.”

“Can I tell Ruddiger…?”

“Yes, you can tell him.”

“What about Hugo?”

“I mean if you want…”

“Uncle Lance?”

“No, he’s terrible with secrets.”

Eugene hummed under his breath as he helped Varian get ready for the day. Both mother and son had been all giggly and whispery the day before; clearly they had a secret between them. “You gonna tell me what you and mom were talking about?”

Varian cocked his head in confusion. Oh gosh, it never got old, still just as cute as the first time!

“Last night,” Eugene clarified.

Varian gasped, covering his mouth. He shook his head in despair. Daddy didn’t like keeping secrets from him, he said it was good to tell the truth… but mommy asked him to keep it to himself! Would she be mad if he told him?

“Don’t wanna spill?” Eugene teased, chuckling. He helped Varian into his new shirt. He never did find out what happened to Varian’s sailor outfit, the one he wore when he was with Ulla, but when the house blew up there was no way it survived. Now Varian wore a dark purple school uniform, with white buttons and ascot. His shoes were shiny and black, the pristine boarding school kind. There was a hat that went with it but Varian never wore it for more than a few minutes.

Varian shook his head.

Eugene smirked. “Alright, how about I share a secret with you, hm? Maybe then you’ll tell me?” He took the silence as an invitation. “I’m gonna ask Rapunzel to marry me.” He almost said again, but Varian wasn’t there the first time, and he still wanted the kid to think positively of him. It felt nice to tell someone; he’d tell Lance but he was terrible with secrets.

Varian looked like he was gonna explode.

His dad burst out laughing. The kid’s cheeks were so puffed up you’d mistake him for a blowfish, and his face burned red. He opened his mouth, but bit down on his hand to muffle his words, and stomped his feet in frustration. Frustrated tears bubbled up and, had it not been for his dad’s calloused hands, would’ve fallen down.

“Oh, bud,” Eugene wheezed. “It’s ok, you don’t have to tell me, alright? But I wanted to tell you that. I was going to propose tonight.”

Tonight!? Rapunzel and he were planning for tonight too! He was gonna sing a song! At his distraught face, Eugene quickly backpedaled.

“Bluebird I still love you! I know you technically won that fight but I’m still gonna love her, but you’re still my little boy! Are you mad?”

“No!” Varian whined. He hated that he couldn’t tell him why he was upset! Daddy was so good at cheering him up.

“No?”

“No.”

Exasperated, Eugene picked his son up and left his bedroom for the day. “Well when you’re ready to tell me, you come get me, hm? No pouting.”

He pouted the rest of the day.

It sucked.

Eugene could tell it was stressing Varian just as much as it was stressing him, but because Varian refused to talk, it made the whole situation that much worse. He thought maybe he was just mad at him, but apparently he wouldn’t even talk to Lance! And he loved Lance!

Varian hated being quiet! He was the biggest chatterbox when he wanted to be! The last time he was this quiet towards his family was back when he first moved in. But still the boy held his tongue. If he didn’t, he might accidentally tell someone! And he couldn’t even tell Rapunzel or Cassie, since they were busy all day!

Maybe today’s just an off day, Eugene thought as Varian pushed his food around at dinner. He looked so miserable, like he was near tears, and it pulled at his heartstrings. Eventually Varian gave up on trying to eat, and that was Eugene’s cue for an early bedtime.

For his part, Varian didn’t really complain all that much. But then again, if he complained, he might slip up!

“Just double checking, bud.” Eugene said after he tucked the boy in. Varian’s little onesie was so precious, covered in clouds and a sun on his chest. “You’re not upset about me proposing to Rapunzel?”

In all honesty, he was more worried about nightmares. All of their hard work building up Varian’s confidence had crumbled like a stack of cards thanks to Ulla. He was wary of guards and staff, unsure if any of them would turn them back over for experiments.

Even though Eugene had explained to Varian that his momma could never hurt him again, that he was safe and no one would ever take him away from him, that really wasn’t true. For one, Rapunzel was living proof of that. But more importantly, Ulla’s claws dug deep into the boy’s mind, haunting his dreams. At least once a week, even now, Varian would wake with horrible screams and visions of electric chairs and amber formulas and rocks. He was bouncing back a lot faster than the first time around, but there was a reason he’d started looking around Corona for a child psychiatrist.

“No…” Varian sighed. He may be bummed about their plans, but if the end result was the same, he couldn’t really be too upset. Right? He picked at his sheets. “Just wanted to see mama…”

Eugene smiled sadly. “I’ll have her come see you after our date, ok?” With a kiss to the forehead, the father left the room.

Varian waited a few moments.

Then he slipped out of bed.

Regardless of whether or not his and Rapunzel’s plans were ruined, he’s not missing this proposal! Honestly he was a little offended Eugene didn’t ask him to help. He could’ve been like, “Will you be my mommy?”. But then again, Rapunzel already was his mommy. So maybe not those exact words.

Whatever! The point remained!

He peeked down the corner, where Eugene and Rapunzel were talking. Ruddiger’s tail swished in Varian’s face, making it impossible for him to make out what they were saying. But judging by the box Eugene hid behind his back, and the chest Rapunzel hid behind hers, it was something about a surprise on their date tonight.

Man, adults were weird. Why all the secrets and cryptic speech?

They walked side by side, neither looking at the gifts hidden away, nor at Varian trailing behind them like a lost puppy.

“I heard Varian was cranky today,” Rapunzel snickered at the face her boyfriend made in response. He looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. Which, to be fair, wasn’t too far off from his “smolder”. And he wondered why she didn’t fall for it.

“Yea, a bit,” he said. “He didn’t want to tell me what you two have been up to.” At this, she raised an eyebrow. In all honesty, she expected him to cave. Her sweet little boy kept it together! Well, maybe not emotionally. She’ll grab a cupcake for him later.

“Well, I think he’ll be in a much better mood tomorrow,” she hummed. “I was surprised you wanted to go on a boat ride instead of our other plan.”

“Yea well, I had an idea.”

“A good one?” She shrieked when he jokingly poked her stomach.

Varian followed them quietly, his padded footsies keeping him undetected. The night chill nipped at his cheeks, turning them red as an apple. But he didn’t care. He kept following until his parents approached a boat and rowed out a small ways. It was far enough that Varian probably couldn’t swim it, but he could still see them. The soft sound of waves filled his ears, the moon’s lullaby trying to soothe its kin. But Varian’s focus was solely on his family.

“To think, about a year ago we were out here…” the princess glanced up at the starry sky. “And now…” She glanced over to see Eugene’s warm, loving smile.

“So, are we going to share gifts now or later?” Eugene joked. “It’s kinda funny, since today’s not really anything special, but we still got each other gifts.”

Rapunzel hummed, smiling. “This one isn’t just for you.” She glanced down at the box, an ornate, mahogany chest her mom gave her for the occasion. “It was supposed to be ready at Varian’s birthday but I figured I’d just give both of them to you.” Eugene’s smile turned even softer, if that was even possible. His heart was so warm, he half expected to burn from the inside out. The chest creaked open, and he gasped.

“Oh, blondie…”

There were two crowns sitting on plush blue velvet. Eugene’s was a dark silver, almost black under the moon’s shine. It had three prongs, not unlike Rapunzel’s tiara, though these were much pointier. Embedded on the middle prong was a gleaming violet stone, reflecting the color of Corona. Varian’s was relatively simple, more of a circlet. Also silver, it had the same loops as Rapunzel’s, with a myriad of blue stones instead of her red.

Eugene let out a shaky breath, almost nervous to touch them. “Rapunzel, these are…!” It felt almost wrong to have them. A year ago he’d tried to steal hers, and now he’s getting one of his own? But he couldn’t deny how much he wanted this. Not the crowns per say (well, that’s a lie; he may not be a thief anymore but he still loved the finer things in life) but to belong, to match with the loves of his life.

There was one nagging question though. “How’d you get your dad to agree?”

Rapunzel snorted. Around the same time she’d blown up at her dad, she’d found out about the nobility’s haggling in regards to him and Varian. “I told him we’d give him another grandkid.” Eugene choked on his own spit. “Uh, can we, um, raincheck on that? Varian’s already enough,” He wheezed. With his anxieties soothed, he reached out, fingers brushing against the cool metal. “I gotta say, these are pretty nice. Just big enough to not mess up my hair! Aw, blondie, you think of everything.” He struck a pose. “How do I look?”

“Like a king,” Rapunzel beamed. She reached into her pocket, ready to give him the other gift. “Speaking of king-”

“Hold that thought, it’s my turn!” Eugene said, holding up a finger. He missed his girlfriend’s pout.

Across the bay, Varian pouted as well. “This is boring,” he whined to Ruddiger.

“So, speaking of kings,” Eugene said, and Rapunzel rolled her eyes fondly, but softened when Eugene’s face turned more serious. “I know the last time I asked was… less than perfect. And in the time since that… so much has happened,” that was an understatement, and they both knew it. “You asked me to wait, and I just want you to know that I am fully willing to wait still. But… I just wanted to… check in?” He opened the box to reveal a cupcake. But before Rapunzel could question it, Pascal grabbed the cherry, revealing a ring on top of the frosting. She gasped.

“Rapunzel… will you marry me?”

Her eyes brimmed with tears of joy. She sniffled, reaching into her pocket. “Only if you marry me,” she laughed, revealing the golden band she had. Eugene’s face lit up, and smiled harder than he ever had. The night was full of silence, just the two of them as they swapped bands.

“HEY! DID YOU DO IT YET?”

Eugene burst into silent laughter, burrowing his face onto Rapunzel’s shoulder as his own shook with mirth. Honestly, he didn’t know why he expected any less. Of course Varian would try and follow them. His fiance (!!) grabbed the oars, rowing back to shore where their son bounced up and down with impatience.

The moment they stepped out onto the dock, they got an armful of child. “Oof!” Eugene wheezed. “I thought you went to bed, young man?”

“Nope!”

Rapunzel hummed. “But didn’t your daddy put you to bed?”

“Uhuh. I just got up again.”

Eugene barked out a laugh, sweeping Varian up into his arms, much to the boy’s delight. He shrieked with joy, clutching his dad’s neck tight. Rapunzel couldn’t help but join in, wrapping both of them into a bear hug.

The small family’s laughter rang out into the night air, up towards the moon.

It shined just a bit brighter.

#varian #tangled the series #tts #tts varian #tangled #tts eugene #eugene fitzherbert #tangled eugene #team awesome

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adamsvanrhijn · 3 years

Text

it’s time for... the great big post of Things Smithensy Published This Year, 2020 / quarantimes edition!

under a cut this year for the first time!

ordinarily this post is called “etc etc Things Smithensy Wrote This Year etc etc”. it’s different this year because i wrote a significant amount more than i published (formerly, this would have been to the tune of a few thousand, this year it’s about 200 thousand) and also published some things that were entirely or partially written in 2019.

total # of works published on AO3: 46 total # of chapters (including one shots) "": 143 total # words "": 350,179

[for comparison, in the previous five years, 2015-2019, i published 243,892 words. 🧠🪱] [that’s the worm emoji, if you’re on a platform that doesn’t support it.]

most prolific months of the year by word count:

May: 47,643

August: 41,241

March: 40,112

other interesting things:

1 work was first posted in 2019 and continued to update through 2020. (it is one of three 2019 WIPs, the other two of which did not update at all this year! whoops!)

14 works first posted in 2020 remain incomplete

7 works contained sexual content

5 works contained content that would get me canceled in other fandoms!

summary of my 2020 music taste:

6 works are titled with Carly Rae Jepsen song lyrics

5 works are titled with Joanna Newsom song lyrics

5 works are titled with Vienna Teng song lyrics

2 works are titled with Aly & AJ song lyrics

Without further ado !

january

but level, in time Thomas and Richard ten years after the conclusion of you will not take my heart, alive. Rated M, 1.2k words. [WIP]

and eager besides Thomas dresses the Duke for dinner. Rated T, 1.2k words. During canon.

like foals, unsteady on their feet Two blokes, having a chat, not trying to fit in for once. Rated T, 11.1k words. During canon.

"You can draw the line wherever you like, Mr Ellis. Richard. Doesn't change the fact that I went off with a strange man from a pub, now, does it – "

"Who among us hasn't?"

Thomas made a sound rather like he was choking. It seemed inappropriate to smile; Richard did anyway. Just a small one; he couldn't help himself. Thomas had a way of cutting through his curtains, letting the sunshine in.

"So," Thomas said after a moment. He coughed. "You really are…"

And hadn't he thought he'd made that perfectly clear.

"No, Mr Barrow," he said, "I touched your mouth back there owing to our shared inclination toward domestic service."

february

(went with you up to) the place you grew up in A summer day in the Ellis back garden. Rated T, 1.6k words. Post-canon.

want you in my room The last night of the Royal visit, and the morning after. Rated T, 3.7k words. During canon.

all my wooing done Not all firsts have seconds. Rated T, 1.1k words. During canon.

and speak each other in passing Four times Thomas Barrow didn't meet Richard Ellis. Rated T, 1.3k words During canon.

"William," Thomas calls back, "we don't have all day."

He's gotten distracted watching one of several tearful departures happening on the platform. People do love to get in the way for that sort of thing, like no one else's time or space matters because they've got feelings.

"...Mum, come on, now, it won't be so long – "

"They never do let you away from that place – "

It's a young man about their age and a woman who is evidently his mother.

No one ought to behave like that in public.

march

3 additional chapters of a fic we'll get to later comprised the bulk of the ~40k words from this month; but no unique works were last published/updated in March!

april

far away, the thudding of the guns Thomas, during and after the Front. Unrated, 20k words. [WIP, first chapter published Dec 8, 2019]

strange how I fit into you (there's a distance erased with the greatest of ease) It takes more than love to run a household. Rated M, 10.8k words. Post-canon.

"How did this get here?" Thomas asks, holding up one of Richard's shirts. It's soft; the pinstripes are faded and have been for ages now. There is an unidentifiable blotch on the sleeve up by the shoulder that wasn't there a few weeks ago when he last washed it.

Richard sets his head on his shoulder. His cheek scratches. Tomorrow morning he'll shave and Thomas will pretend to be relieved. "I don't know," he says lightly. "Must've been at work."

"It's not tailor's chalk," Thomas retorts.

"Maybe on the bus."

"You had your jacket off on the bus, did you?"

"Had it off some place," says Richard, nuzzling his neck. He holds him a little tighter, moves one hand up to his chest and the other lower than it needs to be. "Maybe here… I get distracted, don't I, Mr Barrow."

"Yes, you do," says Thomas, snippy, if reluctantly so. "And now you're distracting me, so get."

persistence A look at the shared history of Phyllis Baxter and Thomas Barrow. Rated T, 11k. [WIP, first chapter published Jan 3]

you and me will get on just fine Snippets from the Royal Visit. Rated T, 11.4k words. [WIP]

may

one more night with you The Crawleys open up Grantham House for the last time, and Thomas has someone to see. Unrated, 6.6k words. Post-canon. [WIP]

good love Five times Thomas danced with a woman, and one time he didn't. Rated T, 2.5k words. Pre, during, post canon.

He can't stop thinking about the last time he danced with somebody.

He hopes he's okay.

and I've been feeling weak without it (only want a real, real love) The danger always was that they wouldn't work in close quarters, but they do. Rated M, 14.6k words. Post-canon.

june

better things to do The night out in York goes differently. Unrated, 3.1k words. AU, canon divergence. [WIP]

From behind him comes the thrum of chatter and the sound of jazz music, upbeat and swinging, the sort he'd expect to hear at any place from the Palais to the Jubilee Hall but not necessarily in his own corner. Not necessarily for working people, as it happens, either, the other aspect notwithstanding. Dancing. There must be dancing. When was the last time he danced with anybody?

july

better late than the never we've been told before Richard fetches Thomas from Downton. Rated T, 4.8k words. Post-canon.

and those who sow trouble reap it A love triangle, except it's a many-angled shape. Rated T, 10.1k words. Pre, during canon. [WIP]

tiny little bows Thomas is tired of waiting. Richard is, too. Rated T, 2.6k words. During canon.

"Don't tell me they don't have those in London."

It is sweet, Thomas can admit, or at least it is as far as cats go. Just sat on the wall with its tail swishing, nuzzling his hand.

"Well, they don't have this one in London," says Mr Ellis. He looks up at Thomas and grins in a fashion that makes his heart flip over, then turns back to the cat. It's purring. Thomas can't blame it; he would be, too.

august

bring you back to where I know you (I just want you to let you let me hold you) Thomas and Richard find something they'd been missing. Rated X, 6k words. Post-canon.

only a steel man can be a lover They don't talk about the sadness. Rated T, 900 words. Post-canon.

it takes my breath away (what you do so naturally) Thomas chooses his own path. Then he veers off and finds a better one. Rated M, 5.4k words. During canon.

...linens airing out in windows and back gardens, children with clothing either hemmed just before their wrists and ankles or full of tucks and patches… Must not be a school day, but then you never know, do you?

The men are working, he suspects, only to find a game of football in the park just round the corner.

Home used to look like this.

He wonders if it still would, now.

to guide your eye Richard tries something old; Thomas tries something new. Unrated, 11.3k words. Post-canon.

september

writing in the margins Richard isn't sure of Mr Barrow just yet, but he hopes he will be soon. Rated T, 2.4k words. During canon.

...As it happens the resident butler and I seem to be getting on like a house on fire, but don't make anything of it just yet...

tend and mind Flu season. Thomas makes for a good nurse. Rated G, 485 words. Post-canon.

forever and please don't go A storm rolls in. Richard gets stuck at Downton. Rated T, 500 words. Post-canon.

count up all the chances Handsome young footmen loving people they shouldn't. Unrated, 2.8k words. Spanning and post canon. [WIP]

october

let's not give the game away Thomas struggles with a finer detail of valeting. Rated T, 600 words. Pre-canon.

take my eyes to borrow A chance encounter changes everything. It also changes very little. Rated M, 18.8k words. Pre and spanning canon, AU.

"You got into a spot of trouble with your commanding officer?"

"I may have done."

It was spoken like it ought to have been a joke, but Ellis wasn't smiling anymore. "Queer, isn't it, being in service," he murmured. He really was talkative. "The bonds you form… things aren't so clear-cut out here as they were before, are they?"

Had he told him he was in service, before?

"How do you mean?"

"I think you know, Corporal," he said.

"I don't," Thomas told him.

But he knew enough in the moment to know that he was lying.

the things I shut Daisy comes to a conclusion. Rated T, 1.8k words. Post-canon.

a love that won't sit still After the Royal Visit, Thomas and Richard correspond. Rated T, 18.5k words. Post-canon. [WIP]

hope keeps us standing Downton Abbey is not like other great houses, and its butler is not like other butlers. Unrated, 17.2k words. During canon. [WIP]

you follow what you feel inside (it's intuitive; you don't have to try) Times are changing at Downton, and Thomas has a decision to make. Rated M, 1.9k words. During canon, AU. [WIP]

a love that won't sit still The Royal visit ends; Thomas and Richard correspond. Rated T, 18.5k words. [WIP, first chapter Feb 2.]

november

of someone else's flowers Richard makes an important introduction. Rated T, 2.6k. Post-canon. [WIP]

all my casualties of love Thomas tells Richard about his past lovers. Rated T, 5.5k words. During canon.

nothing like a fresh abrasion (to win your love) Richard takes care of Thomas. Rated M, 15.3k words, extensive content warnings. Post-canon.

Fittingly, a breeze passes through from outside, occupying the moment of silence. Autumn air—it makes them both shiver. Earlier in the morning Richard had opened up the windows to get some light in, some fresh air. Most nights they keep the curtains drawn and with good reason, but they don't always get opened back up again.

It's the little things. He's going to endeavour to make them a priority in future.

Drapes tied back, window propped, shutters open. Sunshine.

He wonders if he ought to be concerned about heights.

LES MISÉRABLES: what of the rhythm and meter A literary exchange in the backroom of the Café Musain. Rated T, 1k words. Canon era. [Written in 2019.]

LES MISÉRABLES: the fall of a royal head Jean Prouvaire attempts to bring revolutionary praxis into the bedroom. Rated T, 1.7k words. Canon era. [Written in 2019.]

a web that you have wove There's something unusual about the Royal Household entourage… and Mr Ellis in particular. Rated T, 14k words. During canon, AU.

december

when to my soul, the body would say Thomas and Richard stay at a pub in the middle of nowhere; intimacy ensues. Rated X, 83k words. [WIP, first chapter published Jan 5 2020. This is the March fic.]

this sudden burst of sunlight Thomas & Richard's first time in the A Love That Won't Sit Still universe. Rated X, 5k words.

waken us from sleeping On his way to France Matthew comes across someone he knows. Rated M, 6.9k words. During/between canon. [WIP]

warm blood (underneath my skin) Vampire Richard drinks Thomas's blood. Rated X, 1.6k words. [WIP]

the most sacred of life's keepsakes Thomas & Sybil fall in love and get married. Rated T, 2.1k words. AU, canon divergence.

today, a difference Thomas & Sybil have a baby. Rated T, 7.7k words. AU, canon divergence.

never die for long Thomas has a letter; Sybil has ideas. Rated T, 5.3k words. AU, canon divergence.

kindling Telephone calls between Thomas and Richard on Christmas day, over the years. Rated T, 5.1k words. Post-canon.

They've got a sparkling tree and a roaring fire and full bellies and a very comfortable sofa and, best of all, each other, in a place that's their own. Both of their own, and unlike years past, neither of them are plucking hours out of thin air and hopping on milk trains to make the day work. There's nowhere to set off for in the morning, no other place they're meant to be, no other people to serve. They were together the day before and they'll be together the day after.

How very nice it is, that.

It was a very long time in coming.

#2020 tag #year in review tag #my fanfiction #fic talk tag #quarantimes

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gia-batmm-crickle22 · 3 years

Text

Fallen Angels - One-shot

"And the winners are... CRUSHER AND RUDY!"

The crowd reluctantly cheered as the cheater and his so-called teammate crossed the finish line first. Crusher cackled victoriously as he waved to the crowd.

For the first time in months, his cheating finally paid off. He finally beat Blaze at the race and won the Team Truck Challenge. His giant cheese balls managed to stop the red truck from ever reaching the finish line.

But at what cost?

A few minutes later, Blaze appeared at the finish line with AJ.

Alone.

Both had expressions of heartbreak and rage. Their eyes were redshot as they crossed the finish line. They turned to Crusher, who huffed at their dismay.

"So the unbeatable Blaze FINALLY lost a race, huh?" he smirked. "I KNEW that I was better than you,"

"Oh, enjoy your victory, Crusher, go on!" Blaze snarled. "You have NO idea what you just did!"

"Uh, cheat my way to win? Duh!" Crusher rolled his eyes before looking around. "Now where's Pickle? Don't tell me you left him to go fast and win by yourself? Psh, and they call YOU a great teammate,"

"He's..." AJ hissed, shutting his eyes to fight the tears as he dismounted from the driver's seat and clenched his fists. "He's gone,"

"What?" Crusher looked confused. "He left? In the middle of the race? Psh, of course he did. He couldn't stay focus on one activity, even if he wanted to,"

"No, he didn't leave." AJ gritted his teeth, glaring up. "He's... gone-gone."

"He's DEAD, Crusher!" Blaze yelled out. "HE'S FREAKING DEAD BECAUSE OF YOUR CHEAT!"

Crusher was taken back before scoffing, unconvinced. "Yeah right, like I'm gonna believe that. I'm not an idiot, Blaze,"

"HE IS DEAD, YOU... YOU BASTARD!" Blaze roared out, punching the dark blue truck with all his rage. "HE'S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!"

"Still not buying it," Crusher rolled his eyes and turned around to leave. "Hey, PICKLE, when you're done with this game that you and Blaze are playing, meet me back at our place!"

Blaze and AJ stared at the other in disbelief as he left the desert.

He was gonna realize the truth.

And when he did, it was gonna ruin him.

It's been weeks since the Team Truck Challenge. Blaze had told the news to the other racers, and they all mourned for the green truck.

Only Crusher didn't. He didn't even show up in the Monster Dome the day after the challenge, or at any day after the challenge.

Instead, he was at home, waiting for Pickle to come back. He had cleaned up the place and cooked himself meals and organized the house over and over again. He had sat on the couch and waited for the green truck to arrive.

But he never came.

But Crusher never lost hope. Instead, he just thought of the scenarios that could happen once the green truck came back.

"Hey, Pickle, heard you lost the race? Eh, told you that you weren't up for racing,"

"Pickle, what took you so long to get back home? You couldn't have been THAT slow, right?"

"Pickle, the place's been cleaned so many times! What took you so long?!"

"Hey, Pickle, where've you been? DId you get lost getting home again?"

And this went on for weeks and weeks. Soon, those weeks turned into months.

And he never once left his apartment to race.

Blaze was hesitant as he stood in front of Crusher's apartment door. He knew that he should be mad at the dark blue truck for what had happened months ago at the race, and he really was, but it worried him that no one has seen tire nor skin of him since then.

"Are you sure he even wants to see us?" AJ asked.

"Definitely not, but we need to make sure he's okay," Blaze told him before knocking on the door.

After a while, Crusher answered it, opening the door. He looked exhausted, the bags visible under his eyes, but he still managed to smirk at them.

"Oh, what a surprise!" he cackled. "You two ready to challenge me to a race after your loss months ago?"

"And to think we were SO worried about you," AJ rolled his eyes.

"About what?" Crusher raised an eyebrow.

"Crusher... how long have you been staying inside your place?" Blaze asked.

"As long as I can to wait for Pickle to come back, duh,"

Blaze and AJ grimaced. The boy sighed and got off of Blaze's driver seat.

"Crusher... Pickle's long gone,"

"You're lying," Crusher huffed. "And whatever you guys are planning to try to humble me down, it's NOT gonna work,"

"But we aren't-"

SLAM!

The duo winced as the door slammed shut in front of them. AJ let out a sigh.

"Blaze... I don't think he's gonna accept the truth that easily,"

"I hope he does," Blaze shook his head. "but I know that it's hard to have your best friend suddenly... die, so I hope he'll be okay when he realizes the truth,"

The months stretched further than anyone could count. Crusher was still inside his apartment, waiting for his best friend.

He didn't eat. He didn't sleep. He didn't leave to race. He didn't do anything but... wait.

And he kept waiting.

Unmoving from his spot on the couch.

Until one day...

KRIIING! KRIIING!

Crusher picked up his phone to answer the call.

"Hello?"

["Hey, Crusher,"] the familiar voice of Pickle's sister Millie rang through. ["How are you?"]

"Doing fine," Crusher shrugged. "Is Pickle with you?"

["..."] There was a pause from the other line before she responded. ["Crusher... Pickle's been dead for months now,"]

"He... what?" Crusher shook his head, refusing to believe it. "No, that can't be. It can't,"

["...oh, I see,"] Millie sighed. ["You're... You're still at THAT stage. Okay, I get it. Hope you feel better,"]

With that, the call ended. Crusher was confused as he glanced down at his phone. He sent texts to the rest of the Pickle Family, questioning if it was all true.

If Pickle was really gone.

And all he got were confirmations and pictures of the funeral. Of the tombstone.

Of the truth.

Crusher still couldn't believe what he was hearing and seeing. He had shakily dropped the phone and stared at the wall in horror.

HE was the one to blame this.

It was HIS cheat that had killed his best friend.

He saw it now.

And now, he wished he could take it all back.

Another few months flew by. Crusher was still inside his apartment.

But this time, he knew the truth, and it burnt in his mind and heart. Every word he had last spoken to the green truck guilted him.

Every time he had ignored him.

That one and only time he had used his cheats against him.

And now, he couldn't do anything to take back anything he did or said.

Now, he was too late.

Now, he could only think of scenarios of the past. Alternate scenarios of the things he could have said to his best friend before he died.

"Hey, Pickle, thanks for the cotton candy!"

"Maybe you're right, Pickle, maybe I shouldn't use this against them,"

"I know you're trying hard to help me, Pickle, and I appreciate your efforts,"

"You're right, Pickle, I shouldn't have taken the tools away,"

"You're right, maybe those bouncy tires aren't completely worth it..."

"Okay, Pickle, maybe it wasn't such a good idea kicking Darington out of his own stunt..."

"Thanks for helping me repair my boat, Pickle, I appreciate it,"

If only he had been nicer.

If only he had been better.

If only he hadn't cheated.

Things would have been nicer, better for them all if he hadn't cheated. A lot of things would have been better.

And Pickle wouldn't have died.

Just as he was downing himself and hugging himself at the corner of the living room, the door swung open, and he glanced up at a familiar figure entering the house...

"Hey, guys, I'm a little worried," Darington spoke up as he and the others gathered at Gabby's pit. "As much as I like racing without a cheat knocking us out, I'm kinda worried where Crusher is,"

"Same here," Stripes agreed.

"Crusher not showing up at races anymore," Zeg added.

"Blaze, AJ, didn't you boys say that you visited Crusher months ago?" Starla asked.

"We did," Blaze nodded. "but... he wasn't mentally stabled at that time,"

"He was still bragging about the Team Truck Challenge," AJ said. "and he was still in denial that Pickle's really gone,"

"Maybe we should head over and make sure he's okay," Gabby suggested.

"You're right, Gabby, we should," Blaze gave a nod of agreement.

The other racers agreed without hesitation then they all drove off out of the Monster Dome, with Gabby getting on her ATV. They all made it to Crusher's apartment, and Blaze was about to knock at the door when he heard laughing form inside.

"Is that... Crusher?"

"Yeah, it is," Starla frowned. "And he sounds... happy?"

"Why would he be happy? Pickle just died!" Darington cried out.

"Crusher, are you in there?" Blaze knocked on the door.

Laughter was the only response. worrying the monster machines. They opened the door and found Crusher at the corner, laughing to himself. The place was messier than they had thought as he stayed at the corner and didn't bother to move.

"Crusher...?"

"Oh, hey, guys!" Crusher turned to them with a wide smile that made them all wince.

"Crusher, are you okay?" Stripes asked.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?!" Crusher laughed.

"Crusher, Pickle's been dead for months," Starla pointed out.

"You guys are silly, he's right here!" Crusher motioned to the empty space beside him. "Right, Pickle?!"

"Uh, guys, I think he's hallucinating," Gabby whispered.

"I think that you might be right," AJ hissed and turned to his best friend. "Blaze?"

"Yeah..." Blaze sighed and drove forward. "Crusher... no one's there,"

"Psh, you're all crazy," Crusher chuckled.

"Look who's talking..." Stripes murmured.

"Stripes, be nice," Zeg told the tiger truck off.

"Crusher, please," Blaze sighed. "Do you want us to take you to the mental hospital? To a therapy? We wanna help, Crusher, please,"

"I'm fine, and so is Pickle!" Crusher insisted with a grin, wrapping his tire around nothing but air.

"Blaze, I don't think he's fine," Starla shook her head.

"I know, I know," Blaze frowned and turned away. "but we can't help if he doesn't want us to help,"

"Bye! Thanks for visiting!" Crusher giggled, his laughter off as the trucks all drove out of his apartment.

"We'll visit again tomorrow," Blaze told his friends as they left. "Maybe... Maybe he'll be fine by tomorrow,"

Months had passed. Crusher was still not better.

He was still inside his apartment, laughing and joking with the 'Pickle' he was seeing. The other racers came every day to check on him, but he still insisted that he was fine and that everything was fine.

That he was okay.

That Pickle was still alive.

After those months, however, they were horrified at the news of Crusher...

...and how the police found his body at the bottom of the bridge on the other side of Axle CIty...

#blaze and the monster machines #batmm #crusher #pickle #death #alternate ending

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rosesastrology · 4 years

Note

How does AJ feel about me? Old friend but I felt something more. London 3.57PM. -L

Hello,

I thought I'd show you the full thing, perhaps someone can learn from it too~ Not planning to always do this, as it takes a long time to write down.

*"querent": you

* "quesited": him

Ruler of the Day: Saturn, which is in 25° Capricorn/1st house > domicile sign and own triplicity, in the term of Saturn (domicile) and the face/decan of Mars (malefic due to its position in aries, minor influence on Saturn because Saturn is more powerful in and of itself), house of fall.

Ruler of the Hour: Saturn / see above

Diurnal chart > IC/Mars out of sect (4th house, domicile position shows strength, retrograde is malefic).

AC/9° Capricorn, in domicile position and showing affinity to the RoD and the RoH > accuracy is guaranteed because the AC is in agreement with the rulers of the day and hour. AC is in the term of Mercury (neutral for Capricorn) and the decan of Saturn, the hour ruler. Querent is in a strong position in the long run.

Saturn (natural ruler of Capricorn, thus the significator) 25° Capricorn/1st house > domicile sign and own triplicity, in the term of Saturn (domicile) and the face/decan of Mars (fall, malefic), house of fall.

Co-significators:

Jupiter/17° Capricorn/1st house > fall of the sign, in the same triplicity as the main significator, in the term of Jupiter (domicile) and in the decan of Venus (neutral).

Pluto/22° Capricorn/1st house > neutral sign, same triplicity as the main significator, term of Mars (exaltation), face of Mercury (slightly malefic considering libra is in Mercury, fall of Pluto).

Moon/27° Libra/9th house/void of course > neutral sign, neutral house, term of Mars (neutral, angrier), face of Mercury (neutral), Moon has little strength considering it has no dignity and is thus peregrine.

11th house/house of friendship

11th house/cusp of Sagittarius > a neutral place for Sagittarius to be.

Jupiter will be the main significator for the friend, considering there are no co-significators in the 11th house.

Jupiter/17° Capricorn/1st house > fall of the sign, in the same triplicity as the main significator, in the term of Jupiter (domicile) and in the decan of Venus (neutral).

Jupiter applying a conjunction of 8° to Saturn. Jupiter (friend) is in fall and has little to say about this upcoming occurrence, Saturn (querent) is in a strong position. Jupiter is in Capricorn, which is Saturn's domicile sign. Saturn therefore likes Jupiter, however, Jupiter is in fall in peregrine, showing Jupiter (quesited) to dislike/have no interest in Saturn (querent) in the long run. Saturn is in the first house, which is neutral (not good or bad, disinterested) for Jupiter, confirming disinterest. Jupiter is in the 1st house, which is the house of fall for Saturn; showing that the feelings of Saturn were denied/not reciprocated. This contact will likely not be direct because of the nature of the aspect, a conjunction shows "contact" but often not in a literal sense.

There is no aspect between the Moon and Jupiter, showing that there is no indication for anything happening short-term.

Jupiter applying a conjunction of 5° to Pluto, the co-significator. Both planets are in Capricorn (cold), Pluto is in the position of fall towards Jupiter, once again showing that the friend did not have feelings for the querent and was disinterested (Capricorn). Pluto is also in a peregrine house for Jupiter, where Jupiter is not interested. Jupiter is in the peregrine sign of Capricorn towards Pluto, but in the first house, which is the house of exaltation for Pluto. This gives Pluto some dignity and affinity towards Jupiter.

The 5th house (romance) is ruled by Gemini and thus significated by Mercury.

Mercury/20° Libra/9th house > neutral sign, house in detriment, in the term and face of Mercury (domicile) which luckily gives it some dignity but very little.

Jupiter is separating with 3° from a square with Mercury. This is likely to show the breakup, the degree could signify a time period of 3 years (although with Libra in Mercury it could signify 3 months). Let's see. Jupiter is in Capricorn in the 1st house, which are peregrine placements for Mercury. Showing mercury, aka the querent to have been indifferent about romance with Jupiter at the time of the separation. Mercury is in Libra in the 9th house, which is a neutral sign but the domicile position for Jupiter. Jupiter therefore feels some sense of responsibility or guilt for how things went with Mercury during the breakup.

The ruler of the 7th house of relationship and partnership is signified by Cancer. She is ruled by the Moon. There are no aspects between the Moon and Jupiter, signifying there was no occurrence of love. The Moon, co-significator of the querent (as a rule of the thumb) and main significator of the querent, is in Libra in the 9th house, as spoken of before. Jupiter is peregrine in Libra, however it is in its domicile in the 9th house, which once again shows some affinity from Jupiter towards the Moon regarding how things ended. Jupiter may have thought the Moon was in their right. The Moon would be in its detriment in Capricorn and neutral in the 1st. This could signify that the querent was cold (Capricorn) towards Jupiter because the Moon had to think about themselves, perhaps Jupiter had gotten toxic, or maybe the Moon was selfish or had to think about herself instead of Jupiter. Jupiter, thought the Moon was in her right as shown by the chart.

The applying inconjunction between Venus, co-significator of the 7th house of relationships and Jupiter (him) confirms that within 3 days (guess what, it's the 21st here right now and you asked this on the 19th) the romantic life of the querent, will be changed for she can now reorganize the relationship with Jupiter (him) in her head. The Moon (significator of the 7th) in the 9th house of astrology and divination shows that the querent tried to seek her answer within divination/astrology. This is also showed by the fact that the 9th house is ruled by Libra, which, coincidentally, is ruled by Venus, the co-significator the 7th of whom we just described her inconjunction. Astrology is funny like that.

The radical 5th house of romance and pleasure, starting from and counting, the 11th house, is the 3rd house which is ruled by Aries. The natural ruler of Aries, Mars, is in retrograde and out of sect, in it's domicile sign Aries and in a neutral house. Mars is in the term of Saturn (exalted) and the face of Jupiter (neutral/exaltation considering Jupiter is in Capricorn).

There's an applying square of 10° between Jupiter and Mars. Jupiter would be peregrine in Aries, and in its exalted house in the 4th. Mars would be exalted in Capricorn, and domicile in the first house. Mars likes Jupiter (the friend) a lot, Jupiter is more neutral but still slightly positive about Mars. This could mean that the friend, whom is signified by Jupiter, will get in a relationship within 10 weeks/months.

To sum all that up: he did not like you, but does feel responsible for how it ended and thinks it was right for you to end it/take your own path.

- @rosesastrology

#horary astrology #astrology #horary #anon #ask #answered

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failbaby · 4 years

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i need to state an unpopular opinion and i feel like you are one of the few that wont stone me for it (maybe): i dont like jj that much 😳 i mean she was lowk toxic at times and when spencer was going through his thing she did not care but when spence was like im here for u she was like i was tortured stop asking if im okay u dont know me 😡 like... u realize he... the whole dilaudid....... like it was unfair how she treated him sometimes love aj sm but ... (im sorry this was so long omg)

Thank you for this because this is an interesting discussion to have!!

I didn’t like JJ at first because I thought she was super bland, but she’s grown on me over time, because I’ve sort of realized why her presence is so important to the team: she’s an everyman, and we’re supposed to see ourselves in her.

I love all of the other characters, of course, but they’re a little “out there”, if that makes sense, and I don’t think they’re very easy for common audiences to relate to.

Hotch is a hardass, 100% stoic, nearly fearless leader who is kind when he needs to be and always closes the BAU’s cases, usually flawlessly. We all want a leader like this in our lives—who cares very much for us (but not enough that it clouds his judgement), who will graciously take a band of misfits under his wing and treat them as his own, who almost always makes the right calls and almost always gets the job done—but do we know leaders like this? Could any of us ever truly be a leader like this?

Morgan is an absolutely perfect picture of classically noble masculinity—he’s intelligent, loyal, good-hearted, protective of his loved ones, and, obviously, very physically attractive. We can and do love him endlessly, but he’s too good to be true. How many men have you met that are as brave and selfless as Derek? Could you ever look at a situation where you understand that you’re likely to burn to death alone among the wreckage of an ambulance and decide to take that chance in order to save a handful of strangers? Maybe you have, and maybe you could, but I haven’t and couldn’t.

Reid (before season 13 because idc about any of that) is a classic golden child. He’s the team’s little darling (and, in some cases, the viewers’ little darling). He’s soft-spoken, ingenius, introspective, non-confrontational, and, in situations where he’s involved in a conflict, he always acts with both heart and head and always takes the moral high ground, even if it’s not the best decision. He cares deeply about his friends. We as viewers tend to feel very, very sorry for him (or at least, we’re supposed to). When he argues with someone else, he’s usually in the right, and I find myself taking his side. Spencer is a fantastic character, and most of us (I don’t know if this is you) adore him, but there’s almost no one in real life who manages to be so consistently calm, mild-mannered, and thoughtful, not to mention the fact that his superficial intellect is purposely dramatically exaggerated. (There are only so many geniuses in real life.)

Garcia is. Garcia, so I don’t think I really have to get into this one, but people (especially people who have every reason in the world to be cynical) so unwaveringly optimistic and loving are uncommon.

Prentiss is a texbook chaotic good. She doesn’t always make the right choices, but she usually does, and she’s always driven by her strong moral compass. There are very few real-life people so willing to disobey orders and risk losing everything for the sake of doing what they believe is right. From the time she was introduced, we’ve been made to understand that if Emily sets her mind to something—if she truly believes she deserves something, if she is truly devoted to someone, if she truly believes that morality directs her one particular way—she will not rest until her goal is met. She is determined to a degree that most of us can only aspire to. She fears no man, god, or unit chief. Don’t all of us wish we could be that way? Unafraid, always able to do what’s right even if the world is telling us no?

Rossi is wise, classy, and just mysterious enough that he’s like glamorous character from a mystery novel. He always knows what his team needs to hear. He knows everything about his field. He knows exactly when someone needs a reassuring word or backup or a…family spaghetti night. I don’t think I have to elaborate too much on Rossi, either, but I think that we all wish we had someone like Rossi in our lives who always knew what we needed and could always give it to us.

I’m not saying this is BAD. It’s the opposite, actually, because romanticizing the human condition is a necessary element of drama. Criminal Minds is a drama, and when someone writes a drama, they need you to deeply love the characters so that you’ll worry about them and cry for them when they’re hurting. Can you imagine if these characters were as moody, snippy, and occasionally selfish as all of us are in real life? It wouldn’t be enjoyable at all! I would be so pissed off the whole time I watched lmao

But, at the same time, we as viewers do need someone who we can really, truly relate to, and THAT is why I love JJ, and why I think she’s such an important member of the team.

JJ has a family, and that is what’s most important to her. She’s a mother before anything. Everyone has a mother, and some viewers are mothers, so this is something the vast majority of us can relate to. She loves Spencer, but she snaps at him or doesn’t have the patience to deal with him sometimes. Don’t we all do that to the ones we love occasionally?

JJ is “bland,” meaning she doesn’t have one big, bold, defining personality trait that we can smack down on her (like the others—“brave,” “smart,” “chaotic”) because she’s supposed to reflect us. JJ is supposed to help us relate to these wacky, melodramatic characters in a more human way. She interacts with the rest of the team in a way writers imagine we as viewers can relate to— she’s a little intimidated by Hotchner, but grows closer with him as the years go on. She babies Spencer, but gets frustrated with him when he talks too much or is incapable of reading the room. She finds Penelope strange, and adores her for that. She wants Emily Prentiss to top her. She’s overwhelmed following a traumatic incident in a way that none of the other characters ever really have been.

Does that make sense? JJ is y/n, is what I’m saying. This is just my opinions so if you think differently that’s totally fine, but I just thought I’d write a dissertation on your anon ask haha

#ask #im #so annoying #cm

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thebachelordiaries · 4 years

Text

Clare seeks HIMBO: ‘The Bachelorette’ cast first impressions

The Covid-19 pandemic has been rough for the entire world, but Bachelor Nation faced some dark days too. Going eight months without a single new episode from The Bachelor franchise is something I would really like to not relive.

Fortunately, those dark days are over. Clare’s season has me sucked back in.

The quality of this image is atrocious.

Most of these men—presuming they followed CDC’s social distancing guidelines— haven’t seen a woman in months, are touch deprived, possibly unemployed and contemplating moving back to their hometown while stalking the housing market on Zillow. Everyone’s desperate. That makes for some pretty good TV.

This season features men ranging from ages 26 to 41. We’ve got a boy band manager, a grooming specialist, several men who look like they masturbate in front of full length mirrors and even more who probably want me to join their MLM pyramid scheme.

I’ve never been more ready to roast a bunch of men who have nightmares about going bald. It’s all I’ve wanted to do since March.

Let’s go:

AJ, 28, Software sales

AJ is the kind of guy who writes “Looking for the Pam to my Jim <3″ on his Bumble profile. His bio is generic and probably not reflective of who he is as a person. If I were Clare I’d swipe left.

Ben, 29, Army ranger veteran

“Ben's favorite indulgence is an ice bath.“ Well then.

Alexa, play “Run” by AWOLNATION.

Bennett, 36, Wealth management consultant

Bennett’s profile is the biggest red flag I’ve ever seen. This man says he is the total package but hasn’t always been "this successful and good looking.” But wait, there’s more: “According to Bennett, his high school girlfriend is the only girl he's ever had to work for.“

Can someone tell me what NYC neighborhood he lives in so I can blacklist it?

Blake M1, 31, Male grooming specialist

Blake’s just another stereotypical “29th round draft pick who sat on the bench of the practice team before getting cut, but claims he left the sport due to an injury on his own accord.”

Blake M2, 29, Wildlife manager

This Blake is an outdoorsy Canadian who seems pretty genuine and cool. Unfortunately, he has the face of someone who’d get sent home on night one. I hope I’m wrong.

Brandon, 28, Real Estate Agent

Just another boring hot person. Nothing to see here.

Brendan, 30, Commercial roofer

Brandan, not to be confused for Brandon, “loves some good true crime, working out and hanging out with his friends.” I can’t even make fun of this man. We have the exact same interests.

Chasen, 31, IT account executive

The Winklevoss twins are actually triplets and Chasen is their long lost brother. But more seriously, have you ever seen someone who looks more like their name than this man?

Chris, 27, Landscape design salesman

“Chris hopes to find a woman who is sharp and witty but also easygoing.” Chris, sweetheart, have you met Clare? Easygoing...? There’s still time back out of this before it’s too late.

Dale, 31, Former pro football wide receiver

Dale aggressively screams “Bachelor material.” I’d say he’s auditioning for that role but Matt James already scooped it up. Better luck next year, Daley.

Demar, 26, Spin cycling instructor

Demar is a “very popular spin instructor in Scottsdale and says he can get on that bike and spin to any beat thrown his way.” Imagine how many trophy wives Demar has f*cked?

Eazy, 29, Sports marketing agent

Eazy is very similar to Dale on paper. Except his name is Eazy so he automatically loses that battle.

Ed, 33, Health care salesman

“Ed is looking to find a woman who has natural beauty without looking overly fake.” Ed deserves to die alone.

Garin, 34, Professor of Journalism

Garin’s bio is giving me hubby material vibes. And maybe a little bit of a “gets eliminated on night one” vibe too.

Ivan, 28, Aeronautical Engineer

Ivan, what are you doing here? We’re in a recession. Please go back to your normal job before it’s too late.

Jason, 31, Former pro football linemen

“He is a former NFL offensive lineman who, after suffering too many concussions on the field, decided to prioritize his health and change the direction of his life.” A big, brawny HIMBO with CTE? I feel like he’s Clare’s type.

Jay, 29, Fitness director

There are too many things about Jay that I dislike and I’m trying to keep this brief. Jay says “it's time to take a break from worrying about others and focus on himself instead.” I am willing to bet money that this man has never made a woman c*m.

Jeremy, 40, Banker

Jeremy is the oldest contestant ever to come on "The Bachelorette,” which may seem like a monuments accomplishment but he’s literally only one year older than Clare.

He also “hates Instagram models, both male and female,” so he should have a lot of fun here.

Joe, 36, Anesthesiologist

Before I even saw his profession and location, I thought Joe looked like a doctor I’d find on a NYC dating app...and...uh...I probably did see him on there now that I think about it.

Anyway, this man has apparently been through seven stages of hell while on the front lines fighting Covid-19 in NYC so I definitely think he deserves to find love. Someone marry him please.

Jordan C, 26, Software account executive

I can already tell Jordan is going to get the “I’m young but mature” edit which means he’s probably not going to be good TV.

Too bad someone a tad younger (like Tayshia) wasn’t the Bachelorette. I feel like they’d make a cute couple.

Jordan M., 30, Cyber security engineer

I was going to say something mean but Jordan’s into cyber security and I don’t want my blog to be deactivated, so never mind. Cast photos are historically bad so I’m sure he looks much better in real life.

Kenny, 39, Boy band manager

I could go for the obvious drags regarding this man’s profession (or his sh*tty chest tattoo, or his suspiciously boyish face relative to his age), but I like to think I’m more clever than that.

I’d like to take this time to talk about men, who are obviously difficult people, who rant and rave about how they want an “easygoing” woman. Look into the mirror, bud. No, not the one you use to jerk off to your reflection; the mirror that looks into your soul. Out of respect for the rest of humankind, have some self-awareness. Or maybe just see a therapist.

Mike, 38, Digital media advisor

Mike is seemingly a decent catch, but I can’t help but wonder why he’s still single or how he never (accidentally or on purpose) impregnated a woman in his 38 years of life.

And now that I’m thinking about it, do any of these men have children? I have yet to see any mention of it in their bios. But there are eight men left to review, so there’s still time.

Page, 37, Chef

I spoke too soon. Page is a father! He also hates football! I’m a fan of this man. I was initially going to drag him for his name and say that Page is not a real name. PAIGE is a real name. PAGE is a piece of paper. I’m allowed to say this because we have the same name except mine is spelled the correct way. Based on my (mostly positive) review of his cast bio, I have decided not to hold his name against him.

Riley, 30, Long Island City

Riley, once married with children, would like to go on a family vacation that consists of touring every single MLB stadium in the country. If i were his wife, I would simply never give this man children.

Robby, 30, Insurance broker

No more Robbys on The Bachelorette. Society has evolved past its need for more Robbys.

This Robby described his dream woman as: “Incredibly athletic and able to throw back a few beers with him after a day of hiking. She has a sweet personality and won't mind that he spends his Sundays on the golf course.”

Someone please give this man a sex doll. He just wants a hole.

Tyler C., 27, Lawyer

“Tyler C. is a badass lawyer who says he is a businessman by day and a cowboy by night.” How does that make him a lawyer? Does this mean he’s into cosplay? I’m confused.

Tyler S., 36, Music manager

Tyler makes an honorable living off riding his brother’s dick success as a country singer. “He just LOVES his job!” Uh yeah, I would too if I had a low-show, high-paying job off the merits of nepotism. It’s the American dream.

Yosef, 30, Medical device salesman

Another dad! He��s totally going to pull the “girl dad” narrative. That saying is kind of sexist to me but the masses generally eat it up, so I’m fairly confident Yosef will get the "sweet guy” edit he’s looking for.

Zac C., 36, Addiction specialist

“He loves Philadelphia sports and dreams of sharing a Philly Cheesesteak with his future wife while watching the Eagles win a Super Bowl.” This man is so South Jersey it hurts.

On a more serious note, I don’t think anyone in recent history has spoken openly about their personal struggle with addiction on this show, so I hope Zac gets a chance to tell his story.

Zach J., 37, Cleaning service owner

Zach is seemingly obsessed with Clare already and hopes to introduce her to his mom as his fiancée. Since Zach watched Clare on Juan Pablo’s season, you’d think he’d know that Clare would first meet his mom during the final four hometown dates. Assuming he makes it that far. My prediction is that he won’t.

Final thoughts

After eight long months Bachelor Mondays are back!!!

Uhh....wait.

Actually, we now have the less-exciting Bachelor Tuesdays. Yeah, it definitely doesn’t have the same ring to it. But I’ll take anything at this point.

Here are my final predictions:

First impression rose: Dale. It just looks like he can turn on the bullsh*t charm

Final rose: Jason. Clare wants a HIMBO I just know it.

Bachelor: nobody (Matt James is The Bachelor)

Most likely to get engaged on Bachelor in Paradise: Blake M2

Most likely to get canceled online: Bennett

Most likely to get sent home night one but deserve better: Chris

Who are your favorite men cast on this season?

#The Bachelorette #abc #clare crawley #chris harrison #photo credit: ABC

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