#MCU Beautiful Words Challenge

[marvelskies1969]

Infinity

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader / Loki x Fem!Reader

Premise: Y/N Rogers was sent away as a child, her powers deemed dangerous. After years of brief summers with Steve and Bucky, she returns for good when their mother dies���just as war begins.

As her abilities awaken, she draws the attention of Loki, the trickster god, and faces growing fear from those around her. Caught between destiny, war, and forbidden ties, Y/N must decide who she truly is—and who she’s willing to fight for.

Warnings/content: slight angst, brief mention of death/dying, fluff, swearing, unstable parental relationships, follows the plot of the MCU timeline, with small changes.

[Masterlist]

[Part 1]

(Chapter 1)

Homecoming of Secrets

Y/N's heart pounded as the train pulled into the station, the familiar sights of her childhood town coming into view after ten long years. Her mother’s recent passing had called her back, a summons she had never expected but couldn't ignore. For years, she had lived with a quiet unease, never fully understanding why her mother had sent her away when she was just a child. Her father had passed when she was too young to remember, and the days that followed were shrouded in mystery—her mother's cold silence, her abrupt departure, and the vague explanations about "being safer away from home." Over the years, Y/N's powers had been subtle, small things she could barely notice: objects shifting just a little too much, whispers in the wind when no one was around. But they were nothing like the wild magic she’d always feared might surface. Now, she was returning to the only family she had left—her brother Steve and his friend Bucky—who she'd spent summers with as a child, unaware of the reasons for her absence, put down to challenging behaviour that she was better off elsewhere. As she stepped off the train, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that the answers she had been searching for were just out of reach, waiting to be uncovered in the place she'd once called home.

She’d grown so much since then, both in size and spirit, but there was always a part of her that longed for Steve’s steady presence. He had been her rock, before the war, before everything changed. And now, here she was, about to start her nurse training in the very place where the war had left so many scars. She stepped off the train and glanced around, spotting Steve and Bucky immediately. Her gaze caught on Steve first, a sense of comfort in his familiar, though quiet, demeanor. She noticed he had not really grown over the past few years. Others had towered above him but his slight, almost sickly looking frame had remained. But Bucky—his presence made her pause. He was taller now, the broadness of his shoulders almost startling. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched her, as if she’d somehow transformed overnight. She smiled dryly, eyes twinkling with mischief, “Don’t worry, Barnes. I’m still the same troublemaker you used to know—just with a bit more hair and a few extra years of sass.” Bucky blinked, the words catching in his throat, and he quickly looked at Steve, suppressing the unfamiliar stir of something he couldn’t name. His loyalty to Steve kept him from saying anything about the way the girl he once knew had turned into a woman—one who seemed as intriguing as she was beautiful. But he bit back the words. After all, Steve was his best friend, and that meant no crossing boundaries. So instead, he only gave her a half-smile, pretending he hadn’t noticed at all. Steve remained still, his arms folded. Though he there was a slight admiration in his eyes at his little sister's charm and the effect it had had on his friend.

Y/N adjusted the strap of her bag, glancing sideways at Steve as they stood in the cold, gray light of the Brooklyn train station. Her eyes flicked nervously to the ground, unsure how to start. She hadn’t seen her brother in years—years that had been both distant and full of silent anger, years spent wondering why she’d been sent away, why their mother had never come to visit her. It wasn’t lost on her that their mother had passed away, though she wasn’t sure what to feel about it. She’d never been able to make peace with the woman who’d sent her off with barely a glance, as if she were a burden.

“Funeral’s tomorrow,” Steve muttered quietly, his voice low and reserved. He wasn’t meeting her eyes, his face set in a familiar mask. Y/N studied him for a long moment. She knew Steve had always adored their mother, always thought she was perfect, a saint who'd taken care of them both after their father died. Y/N had never shared that sentiment. She couldn’t.

“I heard,” she said dryly, folding her arms. “Though, honestly, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say. 'Sorry to hear that, Mother?' Or, ‘Guess you’ll finally stop trying to fix me now, huh?’”

Steve’s face tightened at the words, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he cleared his throat and glanced away, his discomfort palpable. “I… I don’t know, Y/N. She wasn’t perfect, but she was just trying to do what was best for us, you know?”

Y/N snorted, a bitter edge to the sound. “Best for us? Sending me away? How does that even make sense, Steve? I was just a kid. What did I do to deserve that?”

Steve looked at her then, eyes softening with the hint of regret. He took a step toward her, his voice barely audible. “She couldn’t handle it, Y/N. You were… you were a lot for her. After Dad died, it was just too much. She tried, she really did. But you—” He stopped himself, clearly struggling with the words. “You were different. And maybe she didn’t know how to help you.”

Y/N’s lips tightened, her fingers curling into fists by her sides. She wanted to snap at him, tell him it was all bullshit. But instead, she took a breath and forced out a humorless smile. “Well, I guess I’ll go to the funeral. Don’t want to make it awkward for you or anything.”

Steve watched her for a long moment, sensing the depth of her pain, the way it lingered beneath her sharp words. But there was nothing he could say to fix it. All he could do was nod, his voice quiet. “Thanks. I don’t want to make it awkward either. Just… don’t feel like you have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Y/N gave him a wry smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Right. Not sure I’m ready for any of this. But I’m here. For you. Just don’t expect me to cry.”

Y/N turned on her heel, her steps confident and deliberate as she strode away from Steve, heading toward the street where a cab would take them back to her childhood home she had only seen again briefly over the years. Her posture was effortlessly graceful, her stride long and sure, the kind that came from years of learning how to move in a world that had never quite been hers. Bucky couldn’t help but watch her, despite the effort it took to keep his gaze fixed elsewhere. He noticed the way the wind tugged at her coat, the way her hair caught the light, the way she held herself now—so different from the girl he remembered. It was like a punch to the gut, a shift in something he wasn’t prepared for. He cleared his throat, trying to hide the slight tension that had crept into his shoulders, but Steve noticed.

Steve’s voice cut through the silence, low and quiet but firm. “Don’t even think about it, Barnes,” he warned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched Bucky try—and fail—to look away. “She’s my sister. And I know you, so don’t make me regret this.”

Bucky’s face flushed a little, his mouth opening but finding no words to form. He forced a casual shrug, his eyes quickly darting toward Steve. “What? I’m not—just looking, alright?”

Steve’s expression remained unchanged, his tone still serious. “Yeah, well, you better keep it that way. She’s not some girl you can—” He stopped himself, realizing the intensity of his own words. He wasn’t just warning Bucky. He was reminding himself too. “Just don’t cross any lines. I’m serious.”

Bucky swallowed hard, his gaze returning to Y/N’s retreating figure, the lingering warmth in his chest now accompanied by a knot of guilt. “Got it, Steve,” he said quietly, but the tone in his voice was one of someone trying not to break a promise he hadn’t yet made. Steve began to follow his sister to the cab she had now acquired.

Bucky clenched his fists, silently repeating to himself, Don’t cross that line, Barnes, no matter how much he was drawn to Steve’s sister.

(This is my first fanfiction, so apologies if it's not great🥴)

[trexcharlotte]

For the First Time

Pairing: MCU!Loki/Goddess!Reader

Rating: Domestic/Wholesome Fluff

Word Count: 852 (not proofread)

Song: For the First Time - Mac DeMarco

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

Her name had been whispered from every corner of the universe.

She was a myth. A Legend. A Goddess.

“It is a blessing to be in your presence, for I am but a humble servant compared to you.” He bowed deep, both knees to the ground.

She hummed as she took the sight of him in, a faint smirk played on her lips.

“The pleasure is all mine to behold, fore I never expected to have the God of Mischief himself at him doorstep. Nonetheless kneeling before me.” She chuckled, amused by how such an infamous god such as himself behaved.

“Stand now, before my ego dares to blossom,”

He rose slowly, steadily. The grin he held was ear to ear; his eyes were full of something playful.

“My apologies but being in the presence of the mother of All Beings is nothing short of a gift.”

“You flatter me well.” A warm smiled graced her features as she offered him a seat in her living room.

The cottage was small, quaint, but homely. Found on the outskirts of a small Italian village in Tuscany, it has the perfect peaceful atmosphere for a god like herself.

She was an observer. Her godly abilities granted her no aid in battles or physic. However, she was blessed to know all and care for those who couldn’t care for themselves. She gifted the greatest responsibility, perhaps the greatest curse. But they were always within her view.

Everyone was always within her sights. She saw all, past and future. Her visions were vague as it was more so accurate to say that she sensed the aura and lifeforce of all under her gaze. Anyone she wanted to find, she could feel.

All except one. The God of Mischief. Loki.

He was the only one she did not know. She knew he was hiding from her, she knew his name and his reputation, but she had never seen him. Felt him.

“For a man who hides himself from me, I’m surprised you have brought yourself to me.”

He gave a calculated, practised smile.

“How could I be deceptive and untrustworthy if there is someone who knows my every move?” It was rhetorical. Possibly sarcastic.

“You intrigue me.”

He hummed, his façade slipping as a fleeting moment of confusion crossed his face before he covered it with his signature grin.

“Why would I, a mere lowlife, hold the interest of a goddess like you?”

She swallowed. She might’ve been looking straight at him, but her mind wandered briefly.

The warm spring air blew through the window, the tickle of her hair blowing against her neck brought her back to the present.

“How could I not be?”

She paused. Hesitated.

“You are a God whose title entails adventuring, acting as one wishes. You are expected to be found with trouble, because you are the trickster and the no good thieve. The one who works only for himself, whose loyalties lie only on his own skill.”

“I am simply, captivated by you. Believe it or not, you have charmed me without us having met before. I envy you freedom.”

He was taken aback. Shocked by this sudden confession. “If I may…” He spoke,

“You are, as the Earthlings call you, mother nature herself. That in and of itself is admirable. It’s an honourable title. To be seen as the mother of all things living, that is an endowment that I simply wouldn’t be able to handle,”

“My dear, you are in a position may gods wish they could be in. Worshipped and appreciated by all, you are a known pacifist that no god dares to challenge. Not even myself.”

She raised an eyebrow at his statement.

“Not even yourself?”

“I may not be trustworthy or reliable. But I would never wish harm upon you, my lady. You may not be the goddess of beauty, but Freyja herself must have blessed you.”

She gave a shy smile as a momentary wave of silence fell over the two of them.

“What are you doing hidden away here?” Loki questioned; his tone like that you’d use when trying to coax a small cat to come closer.

“I like this planet. Earth is… diverse. So many people here have a choice. They each live their own unique little lives, each as special as the next. I enjoy how you can find both busy, bustling streets that are full of life, as well as quiet, peaceful places such as this one all on the same planet.”

“That’s… an interesting perspective.”

“I’m sure you think so, Mr. I planned to take over this planet not long ago.”

They both grinned.

On both of their contrasting paths, they still managed to find one another.

She hoped it was this way in every reality.

He knew of nothing but this reality. This moment, where all he knew was she was the Goddess who drew him in like a magnet no matter how hard he tried to keep himself away. He ended up exactly where she had hoped he’d be.

 In her living room on a warm spring afternoon.

[allthenobodypplfics]

I'll Crawl Home to Her (Chapter 2)

Fandom: Bucky Barnes (from the MCU)

Pairing: Soft Dark!Bucky x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit

Words: 4.9k

Summary: You and Bucky are in love, but Bucky comes from the wrong side of town. Your family doesn’t want you two together and they will stop at nothing to tear you two apart. Bucky will stop at nothing to be with you. This is my entry for @saiyanprincessswanie’s Missy’s Writing Challenge. Thanks to @tricksterhidds for beta-reading!

Chosen Prompts: Biker AU, Forbidden Love, “I wish I could just hold you one more time,” and “I will always find my way back to you.”

Warnings: Soft!Bucky becomes Dark!Bucky, angst, fluff, smut (consensual, breast play, fingering, p in v sex, oral f receiving, unprotected sex), violence, killing, descriptions of death (minor character death, temporary character death, Bucky and Reader both survive), sexual harassment (not from Bucky), bigotry, toxic family, slight horror themes.

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Read on AO3

You and Bucky were walking hand in hand on an unmarked trail in the woods that only Bucky knew. 

“There’s this clearing with an amazin’ view of the lake. I don’t think anybody knows about it except me!” Bucky proudly announced as he playfully swung your arm. His other hand held a picnic basket that he prepared so you two could have lunch. 

When you reached your destination, you cooed, “Ooh! Well, will you look at that! Now that is beautiful.”

You took a few steps away from Bucky to get a better view. You were in an area where the trees parted at a grassy clearing. The sun shone down on the lake, making it shimmer like there were millions of floating diamonds in the water. A nice breeze kept you from getting too warm.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Bucky smugly declared, a shit-eating expression upon his face.

“Oh, you,” you scoffed fondly, a smile tugging at your lips, “you think you’re so smooth.”

Bucky chuckled and began to lay out the picnic blanket.

“Come on, I’ve made us sandwiches,” he said as he sat down on the blanket and patted the space next to him.

You lowered yourself and sat down as gracefully as you could, but then ended up sitting crossed-leg as that was most comfortable on the ground, which caused your dress to ride up. Bucky didn’t notice your lack of couth, nor would he care if he did, but he did try to subtly eye your naked thigh. 

He cleared his throat and opened the picnic basket, plucking a wrapped sandwich from its contents. 

“Here ya go,” he said as he handed it to you.

“Thank you,” you said as you eagerly took a large bite. “Mm, it’s good!”

Bucky grinned and leaned over to kiss the crumb off the corner of your lips, then he bit into his own sandwich. You ate in companionable silence, mustering the confidence to ask Bucky a question that had been lingering in your mind ever since you met him.

Finally, after the both of you had finished your sandwiches, you said, “They keep sayin’ that you come from the wrong side of town, but there isn’t a wrong side of town. You live right at the outskirts, away from everybody else, but there’s nothin’ wrong about that.”

Bucky looked at you, surprise flickering across his face. You realized you didn’t actually ask a question, but Bucky understood you wanted answers anyway. 

“‘Wrong side of town,’” he scoffed. “They don’t mean this town, baby. Me and my ma? We’re not from here. We immigrated here when I was a kid. Dunno what happened to my father, he was never in the picture.”

Realization dawned on you as you uttered, “Oh…” 

Awkward silence filled the air. Bucky tilted his head and cupped your cheek. “You still love me, baby?” he asked, his voice soft with a hint of apprehension.

Your eyes widened as you quickly said, “Of course, I love you, Bucky! I won’t stop loving you because of that. I love you. Forever.”

Bucky smiled and his eyes twinkled. 

“Forever?” he repeated.

“Forever,” you firmly nodded. “And all these damn bigots can go die in a fire!”

Bucky laughed, his nose scrunching in his amusement, as he pulled you up into his lap and kissed you. What started out as a chaste kiss ended up more as he groaned and licked at your lips, asking for permission. You gave it to him as you opened your mouth and he slid his tongue against yours. His hands were rubbing your back and one snaked down to gently grope at your ass. You whimpered as you felt his length begin to harden underneath you, and he started to slowly push your skirt up to your hips. 

You parted from him with a gasp, “Bucky!”

“It’s okay, baby,” Bucky breathed, “I just wanna touch you a little.”

“Bucky, we’re in public…” you whined.

“And nobody knows how to get here except me. Don’t worry, no one will see.”

“But─oh!” your words were cut off when Bucky brusquely pushed your panties to the side and pressed his finger against your clit.

You bit your lip as you tried to stifle the pathetic sounds of your desire.

“It’s okay,” Bucky muttered as he kissed your jaw and down your neck, rubbing slow circles against your bundle of nerves. “No one can hear you; you can let it out.”

He pulled at the top of your dress until one of your breasts spilled out. Staring at your tit, he moaned as he swiped his tongue across his lips, then he leaned forward to lay wet kisses on the flesh while avoiding the nipple. He was whispering against you but you couldn’t understand his words as you were under his thrall. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, one hand placed at the back of his head, and arched your back, pressing your breast harder against him in a silent plea. 

He obliged and flicked at your nipple with the tip of his tongue until it hardened, then he wrapped his lips around the nub and his cheeks hollowed as he sucked. You whimpered as you ground your hips against his hand, seeking more of his touch. 

Bucky continued to thumb your clit as he wiggled his index at your hole. There was the smallest hint of resistance right near the entrance before he coaxed out your natural lubrication and he slid his finger in with a soft squelch.

You moaned and grabbed onto his shirt, fisting the fabric in your hands. He slowly pumped his finger, curling it ever so slightly to just barely brush against the sweet spot inside. When he felt your walls begin to tighten, he pushed in a second finger. You jumped and cried out; it didn’t hurt, it just surprised you. You felt the smirk of his lips against your nipple as he sucked just a little harder and then released you with a soft pop. He pulled at your dress until your other breast fell out and he swallowed thickly at the sight. 

He pumped harder and faster, digging his fingertips into your sweet spot. He watched you with rapt attention, mouth hanging open slightly, his eyes darting from the ecstasy painted over your face to the jiggling of your tits due to his movements between your legs. Every so often he would lean forward to give your pebbled nubs a kiss, a suck, or a nip. His spittle dripped down the rounded flesh. 

Bucky watched you with half-lidded eyes and he hissed between his teeth when you suddenly arched your back and began to tremble violently. You gasped and held your breath for a moment before coming so hard that your scream echoed across the clearing and down the lake, even spooking the nearby birds as they cheeped and flew away in fright. You immediately slapped your hand across your mouth and smothered a giggling fit. Bucky laughed softly and brushed his lips against your cheeks. His touch slowed in you but continued to leisurely curl his fingers in and out, drawing out your orgasm as much as possible.

"I liked that," he said, voice low and teasing, still laced with amusement. 

He pulled your hand away from your mouth and kissed your lips wetly a few times, finally pulling out of you. He made sure you were watching when he sucked his fingers clean. You blushed and tipped your head down to his chest shyly.

Bucky adjusted your panties and fixed your top as he murmured, “Let’s go home.”

“But I don’t wanna go home…” you pouted as you looked back to his face.

Bucky chuckled, “I meant my home. Come home with me.”

“Okay,” you nodded as you easily agreed.

Hours later, the both of you lay naked, sweaty, and contently exhausted in Bucky’s bed. Your head was on his chest as he wrapped one arm around you. 

You nuzzled your forehead against Bucky’s neck as you asked, “Have you ever been in love?”

“Why, yes,” Bucky replied with a charming glint in his eye, “In fact, I’m in love right now, with you, the girl of my dreams.”

“No, not me, silly,” you giggled. “Before me.”

Bucky breathed, “No, there was nobody else before you.”

“Oh, bull,” you snorted incredulously. “You had plenty of girls before me.”

“Oh, now, don’t say it like that. Sure, I was with other girls before. And sure, I treated them nice because my ma didn’t raise a cad, but I didn’t… well, I didn’t love any of them. I cared about them, but I didn’t love them. I didn’t love anyone else besides my ma until I found you.”

“Really?” You lifted your head to meet Bucky’s gaze. “Not a single other person before me besides your ma?”

“Really. Not a single one.” Bucky’s expression was so soft, you wanted to cry.

Bucky suddenly sat up and pulled you along with him. The intensity shining in his eyes started you. 

“Baby, I love you,” he stated, voice full of conviction. “There’s nobody I’ve ever loved before you, and there won’t ever be anybody after you. No matter what happens, no matter who tries to come between us, no matter how hard they try, nothin’ can keep me from you. I will always find my way back to you.”

Tears filled your eyes and your voice wobbled as you said, “You promise?”

Bucky reached for your hand, holding it tightly between both of his.

“I promise,” he said, firm and unwavering, like a vow carved in stone.

Weeks later, Bucky continued to be a constant in your life. Your father started to get wind of you seeing a boy, but he, like Dean, didn’t know which boy. Your father had been hinting at wanting to meet him and see what kind of man he was, but you kept playing dumb. Arvin kept his mouth shut and pretended he had no idea what was going on. 

You slipped out of the house one early Sunday morning to surprise Bucky at his home on his day off, carrying a homemade loaf of pound cake that you baked the night before and had to hide so your family didn’t scarf it down like they never ate anything in their entire lives. Having no car of your own and not wanting to piss Dean off by borrowing his without asking, you hopped on the bus going towards the edge of town, and then walked that one mile to Bucky’s isolated house. 

Slightly out of breath, you rapped on the door. It swung open to reveal Bucky, his eyes widening in surprise. Your eyes drifted down his torso. He was shirtless, his hair and skin a bit damp from a recent shower giving him a fresh, crisp scent that lingered in the air. Faded blue jeans clung to his hips, held up by a weathered brown belt, and his feet were bare. You openly admired the view.

“Hey, baby!” he beamed as he drew you into his arms. “What’re you doin’ here so early? Thought I was goin’ to pick you up later.”

“I couldn’t wait,” you said as you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Bucky dipped his head, burying his face into your hair, and inhaled. 

“You smell nice,” he said, his voice muffled against you.

You laughed, “No, you smell nice. I smell like sweat.”

“It’s nice,” he insisted. “Come in.” He gently pulled you through the threshold as he closed the door behind you, then he had you in his arms again, peppering your lips and jaw with a series of kisses. 

You giggled and held him for a few moments before softly nudging him away. He dramatically pouted.

You snorted, but then held up a bag. 

“I made you a pound cake,” you announced, trying to appease him.

Bucky grinned, “Aw, baby, thank you!”

Later on, with Bucky dressed and half the pound cake eaten, he pulled you into the kitchen and sat you down at the small dining nook as he prepared lunch. He lit two candles at the center of the table and placed a tiny glass vase beside them with a single rose brightening the space. You watched him work, your elbow resting on the table and your chin propped in your hand.

“I love a man who can cook,” you dreamily sighed. 

Bucky glanced back at you and looked extremely proud of himself. He placed a plate in front of you, it was a simple dish, but the warmth and care he’d put into it made it seem like the most extravagant meal you had ever tasted. 

“Thank you, Bucky, this is lovely!” you gushed.

Bucky’s smile widened as he slid into the seat across from you. 

“You’re welcome, baby,” he said, satisfaction in his voice. “I’m real happy you like it.”

You ate together in cozy silence. The clink of silverware and the faint whirr of the oscillating fan were the only sounds between you. 

As the meal neared its end, Bucky leaned back slightly, eyes fixed on his plate for a moment before he looked up at you. 

“I’m gonna have enough money soon, baby,” he said, his voice low but steady.

You tilted your head in confused curiosity. “Enough money for what?”

“Enough to leave this place,” Bucky said, his voice laced with determination. “I’ll sell my shop, sell my house; sell it all.”

You raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “Your bike too?” you asked, voice teasing.

“No, not my bike,” he huffed, shaking his head with a smirk, “never my bike.” 

You leaned in, laughter dancing in your voice. “Your leather jacket?”

He paused, then he sighed with mock resignation, “Okay, maybe I won’t sell it all.”

You chuckled, “Not everythin’ then, huh?” Then, more softly, you added, “Ya gonna leave?”

“That’s right,” he nodded. “I’m gonna get out of this cold ass town.”

“Yeah?” you whispered, trying to hide your sadness. You didn’t blame him for wanting to leave. No one here ever treated him right.

“Yeah. And I’m gonna take you with me.” 

He pulled a velvet box out of his pocket and got down on one knee. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand, as he opened the box and presented you with a gold ring with a single glimmering diamond. 

Bucky cleared his throat and nervously said, “Baby… will you do me the honor-”

“Yes!” you shrieked as you fell towards him and threw your arms around his neck. 

He laughed as he lost his balance and you both tumbled to the kitchen floor. You smothered him with kisses, leaving your lipstick print all over his face.

Your happiness about the engagement could not be soured, despite your family’s objections. You knew you’d have to tell them about Bucky now that you’d accepted his proposal. You expected some pushback. Hell, you expected a lot of nasty pushback from your father, and he didn’t disappoint.

“You any idea how bad this makes me look?” your father raged. “The mayor’s daughter fuckin’ around with some piss poor gas-huffin’ road scum?” 

“‘Piss poor,’” you scoffed. “Daddy, he owns his own business. And what does it matter how much someone has? That’s not what’s important!”

“I don’t give a damn! No daughter of mine is goin’ to get wit’ an oil rat from the boondocks!”

“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t wanna be your daughter no more,” you spat.

“The fuck you say to me?”

Dean winced, “Kid, maybe you should re-think-” 

“I said what I said, daddy!” you snapped, ignoring Dean. “I love him, and I’m gonna be with him. We’re gonna get married and we’re gonna leave this dumb fuckin’ town. Bucky and I’ll be together forever!”

Your father’s face turned a red so deep, it was almost purple. He howled, “No, you ain’t, girl!”

You bristled and turned, your skirt fluttering in your haste to run out the door.

“I said, ‘no, you ain’t!’ You get back here, right now!”

You ignored him as you ran right into Bucky’s awaiting arms, his crooked smile firmly in place as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. He quickly helped you slip your arms into his leather jacket, settling it over your shoulders. You hopped onto the back of his bike and he fired up the engine, the roar of it filling the air. You two peeled away, helmets forgotten in your haste to leave, but you weren’t afraid. No one could ride a bike like Bucky could, and you had never felt safer than behind him with your arms around his waist, the wind whipping around your hair. You squealed in delight as he hit the throttle and sped into the night.

The next few days were the happiest you had ever been. You moved in with Bucky, although you left all your things behind in your old family home. You and Bucky went out to town, not deliberately showing off the engagement ring wrapped around your finger, but the nosy people definitely noticed. You two picked out a simple tea-length white dress. Bucky was going to get an actual suit, something he had never worn before in his entire life, but you insisted he just get a nice pair of trousers and a neat button-up shirt. You wanted him to wear his leather jacket with that outfit. It was iconic on him, and you never wanted that to change. 

If you thought girls whispered about you and Bucky before, well, now the entire town was talking about you two, but you didn’t care. You and Bucky were planning to leave real soon because you both had a feeling that no judge would marry you, not with your father still in office. Bucky was in the middle of haggling for a truck that could carry his bike in the back, along with some luggage. You were going to go north, maybe the next state, or even one more – where no one would know of Bucky, or you, or your father. Where the both of you could start anew and live happily with each other as husband and wife. Bucky already sold his shop, he just needed to find a buyer for his house, but if no one wanted it by the end of the week, then he would abandon it and you two would leave for a better life. 

But then it all came crashing down. You and Bucky were jolted awake in the middle of the night. There was no warning. Neither of you heard them coming; neither of you were prepared. You never imagined your father would go this far, but he did. You were yanked out of bed and restrained as chaos unfolded. A group of at least eight men, one crooked sheriff, and his equally dirty deputies swarmed Bucky. They pummeled him, fists and boots raining down upon him as you screamed, helpless and hysterical.

Now, Bucky was a fighter. He fought his entire life and won every fight, but he had never had to fight more than three men at a time, and not in the dead of night where they blinded him with flashlights. He couldn’t see the fists coming from every direction. He managed to get a few good hits, a couple of wet cracking sounds suggested that Bucky broke a few noses or some bones, but for the most part, he didn’t stand a chance. Eventually, he fell, and the both of you were dragged outside. 

Under the moonlight and flashlights, you could see your father and Arvin waiting outside. Arvin looked sad and uncomfortable; your father looked smug and vindicated. 

“You fuckin’ bastard!” you shrieked as you lunged at him. 

A pair of arms held you back and the voice of your older brother sounded at the back of your head. “Calm down, kid!”

“Dean!” You struggled in his grasp and elbowed him in the stomach. He grunted but didn’t retaliate. “How could you?!”

Your father shoved Arvin towards you as he ordered, “Go help your brother!”

Arvin sheepishly did as he was told, guilt flickering in his expression as he took his place in holding you back. Dean released you and made his way to join the group that had Bucky shoved down to his knees. Bucky’s shoulders were slumped for a few moments before he straightened his back and glared at the men clustering around him, but especially at your father. A gash that carved across Bucky’s eyebrow steadily oozed, blood trickling down the curve of his face. The eye beneath was almost swollen shut, the skin bruised and dark. His bottom lip was split down the middle, blood also seeped down his chin. One side of his face was also swollen, the skin stretched tight across the puffiness. 

Bucky leaned forward slightly and spat blood across your father’s fancy leather shoes; then he sat back and smirked at him with smug satisfaction. 

Your father snarled before backhanding Bucky across his cheek. Bucky barely flinched.

“Take care of him,” your father ordered, jerking his chin towards Bucky.

The sheriff stepped forward and Bucky glanced at him with scornful contempt. Bucky’s attention immediately snapped back to you, his eyes were wide and burning with urgency.

“I’ll come back to you, baby, I promise,” his voice trembled as he swore his oath to you. “I’ll find you again. I love you.”

A sudden explosion shattered the air, loud and sharp like a crack of thunder. You sucked in a ragged gasp, held it for a heartbeat, and then released a guttural wail as you sank to your knees. Clawing at the dirt, you dragged yourself towards the prone body.

“Bucky!” You howled as you fell against him. You grabbed at the chest of his shirt and yanked, trying to pull him up. “Bucky, please!”

He didn’t answer. Bucky’s unblinking eyes began to cloud over, his mouth slack, and blood pooled beneath his head. You pressed your hand against the wound, hoping to stop the bleeding, to save him, to do something, but it was in foolish vain as you felt the gaping hole in his skull leak viscerally into your palm. 

“No…” you wept, “no!” 

You shook his body. He didn’t react. You felt hands grab at you and heave you to your feet. “No!” you screeched as you reached for him, but he didn’t reach back. “Bucky!”

“Stop it, girl!” the sound of your father’s hoarse voice snapped. “You know that boy ain’t right! This is all your fault. This didn’t have to happen. You should’ve listened and stopped seein’ him, and now he’s dead and that’s on you.”

You bawled, “Let me go, y’all are fuckin’ crazy sons of bitches!” as you reeled back and elbowed Arvin holding you. Like Dean, he also grunted and didn’t retaliate.

“Hey!” Your father barked. “You remember who you’re talkin’ to!” He took a step toward you and stabbed a finger in your direction.

“Take your sister home,” he continued. “We’ll deal with this good for nothin’ body.”

You got dragged away by your younger brother. Arvin muttered, “I’m sorry, sis…”

You didn’t even hear him as you whimpered, “Bucky…” 

A bunch of men in sheriff’s uniforms, including Dean who couldn’t look at you, moved in on his body and blocked your view of him. Their figures blurred as your eyes flooded with more tears.

“I ain’t tellin’ you where he’s buried, kid,” your older brother snarled.

“It’s been days, Dean, I need to know!” you cried. “I gotta say goodbye!”

“You already said your goodbyes that night.”

“You bastard!”

“Hey!”

“You assholes formed a lynch mob and killed him! You murdered him in cold blood right in front of me!”

“Kid-”

“No! You took him from me! For what? Just because we loved each other? You tell me where he’s buried, Dean! Tell me! You give this to me! Tell me where you’ve buried the love of my life…” The franticness of your voice died down as you broke into defeated sobs. Your shoulders sagged and your head fell, eyes locked on the floor as you wiped at your nose with the back of your hand.

Dean stared at you with a softened expression, showing something akin to sympathy. He sighed, “An unmarked grave in the woods, five miles west of where he died, under a hollow tree.”

You turned and walked away silently. You wouldn’t thank him.

You took the bus to the edge of town, then hiked the familiar path toward Bucky’s house. Once you reached his porch, you veered west. It took you a while to find it, but found it you did, and you kneeled by the mound of loose dirt about a foot away from a hollow tree. You didn’t know what to say, so you said nothing. You just sat on your knees and placed a hand on top of the mound, the hand that still wore your engagement ring. You burst into tears and wept. 

“I’m so sorry, Bucky,” you finally choked out. “It’s because of me. This happened because of me. You didn’t deserve any of this. I miss you so much. I wish I could just hold you one more time.” 

You crumbled and touched your forehead to the earth and sobbed bitterly. You stayed like that for a long time, enough that the sun dimmed into afternoon light. You decided you needed to leave before it got dark, or else you risked getting lost in the woods once you couldn't see. You sighed, wiped the wetness and dirt from your face, stood to your feet, and made your way back. 

You didn’t go home to your family. You didn't think you would ever go back to them. You went back to Bucky’s house. His leather jacket was still draped over the couch, as if he would be back any moment to put it on. You tugged his leather jacket over your torso, went into his bedroom to lie down in his bed, and you cried until you fell asleep.

It had been a few weeks. Bucky’s house became your house. You went back to your home a few times when you knew your family wouldn’t be there to collect some things. The town folk went about their days none the wiser; most looked at you with pity, assuming that Bucky had left you. You didn’t have the energy to tell them any different. Dean and Arvin came by a few times, trying to placate you, and asked you to go home with them. You refused every time. Your father never bothered to show his face, being too proud and stubborn to bother, assuming it would only be a matter of time before you would come to your senses. 

Dean came by with groceries a few times too, although you still had your bookkeeping job and could afford to take care of yourself. It was just cumbersome to get to and from town because of all that hiking to take the bus, and you didn’t know how to ride Bucky’s bike. You could use the money Bucky had from selling his shop to buy a car, but you didn’t feel right touching his funds. You still cried yourself to sleep every night, clinging to Bucky’s jacket like your life depended on it. You were grateful that it still smelled like him, but it was beginning to fade and your heart was breaking even more.

One night, a massive thunderstorm descended, as if the sky itself had turned against the town. Rain slammed the rooftops like angry fists, and lightning flared in ghostly flashes. Thunder cracked overhead, loud enough to rattle your bones, and the wind screamed through the trees like it was alive and furious. You couldn’t remember ever experiencing such a terrible storm before, and it was scaring you.

You lay in bed and tried to sleep, but the storm woke you every few minutes. As you drifted in and out of restless dozing, your eyes gritty with exhaustion, you thought you heard something outside. It didn’t sound like something a storm should make. You blinked hard and sat up, listening closely. You could hear the front door open and close. Your eyes widened and you gulped; your chest tightened as panic seized you. It could be anyone. If you were lucky, it was Dean, or Arvin, or even your father. If you were unlucky, it was a robber, a killer, the corrupt sheriff, or one of his deputies coming to finish the job. 

You silently stepped out of bed and padded barefoot across the room. You grabbed Bucky’s wrench, the heaviest one you found that you kept close in his home ever since that night he was taken from you. You quietly opened the door and peered down the hall. You saw a large figure cast in the shadows standing in the middle of the living room. You almost screamed, but kept it together. The figure’s body language looked almost confused as rainwater dripped from his form and splashed softly onto the hardwood floor.

You swallowed your fear as you announced, “Whoever you are, I suggest you turn around and leave right now! I’ve gotta weapon and I know how to use it!”

You could see the figure turn his head towards you. He just stood there, not saying anything for a few moments. Finally, in a soft, dazed voice, he said, “Baby?”

Author's Note: Don't worry! Bucky's back! And... better than ever...?

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Read on AO3

[arcane-vagabond]

Fairy Tale Writing Challenge

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away...

Welcome one and all! If you know me, you know there are few things I love more than a good fairy tale! So, to commemorate 1,500 followers and the rebranding of my blog away from solely being a Top Gun: Maverick blog, I've decided to host a little writing challenge!

Rules:

You MUST be 18+ in order to participate (Your age must be listed somewhere on your blog, I will be checking.)

This writing challenge is open to all fandoms!

This challenge will run continuously.

Send me an ask/message to let me know that you're participating!

You MUST choose both a fairy tale and a word for this challenge! Only one person per word prompt. I will add more if I need to.

Tag/message me when you've posted!

Can be a one-shot, two-parter, or series!

Please use the "read more" feature if your fic is over 500 words.

Please use the hashtag "FTWC" so we can read and reblog your work!

You don't have to follow, but reblogging this post would be nice to get the word out there!

How does this work?

You will pick a fairy tale and then one word from the prompt list. You must incorporate that word somehow whether by using it in the prose itself, or by giving your fic that overall feeling.

If there is a fairy tale you would like to do that is not listed, shoot me a message and I will add it!

Message me if you have any questions!

Entries;

🧸 @arcane-vagabond w/ The Little Mermaid and Desiderium

Fathoms Below - Derek Hale (Teen Wolf)

🧸 @baezen w/ Jack and the beanstalk and Petrichor

A Perilous Place - Isaac Lahey (Teen Wolf)

🧸 @sorchathered w/ Little Red Riding Hood and Apricity

Little Red and Her Wolf - Bucky Barnes (MCU)

🧸 @kissmecaitie w/ Beauty and the Beast and Acrimonious

🧸 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer w/ Cinderella and Sonder

🧸 @hardlyinteresting w/ Peter Pan and Scintilla

🧸 @goldenseresinretriever w/ The Steadfast Tin Soldier and Adust

🧸 @queenofvelaris w/ Sleeping Beauty and Labyrinth

🧸 @elizabeth-holland24 w/ Beauty and the Beast and Juberous

The Beast Within - Jake "Hangman" Seresin (TGM)

🧸 @devil-angel-winchester w/ Rapunzel and Avidulous

🧸 @elixirfromthestars w/ Cinderella and Eudaemonia

Fairy Tales;

👑 The Little Mermaid

👑 Cinderella

👑 Snow White

👑 Sleeping Beauty

👑 Rapunzel

👑 Little Red Riding Hood

👑 Jack and the Bean Stalk

👑 Goldilocks and the Three Bears

👑 Rapunzel

👑 Peter Pan

👑 The Ice Queen

👑 Beauty and the Beast

👑 Hansel and Gretel

👑 The Frog Prince

👑 Alice in Wonderland

👑 Pinocchio

👑 Rumpelstiltskin

👑 the Six Swans

👑 The White Snake

👑 The Princess and the Pea

Prompts;

⭐️ Acrimonious: Deeply or violently bitter

⭐️ Adust: Of a gloomy appearance or disposition

⭐️ Apricity: The warm rays of sun in the winter

⭐️ Avidulous: Somewhat greedy

⭐️ Desiderium: An ardent desire or longing; especially a feeling of loss or grief for something lost

⭐️ Dyspathy: Lack of sympathy

⭐️ Effervescent: Lively, full of energy, bubbly

⭐️ Epeolatry: Admiration of words

⭐️ Eudaemonia: The state of being lucky

⭐️ Futz: To pass time in idleness

⭐️ Graumangere: A great meal

⭐️ Hiebal: Of or relating to winter

⭐️ Hokum: Out-and-out nonsense

⭐️ Juberous: Doubtful and hesitating

⭐️ Labyrinth: A complex set of passageways

⭐️ Melancholy: A feeling of pensive sadness

⭐️ Peripatetic: A nomad; someone who travels from place to place

⭐️ Petrichor: The smell of earth after the rain

⭐️ Raconteur: Someone who's very good at telling stories

⭐️ Scintilla: A trace or spark of something

⭐️Sonder: The realization that each passerby has a full life of experiences, emotions, and problems just like you

⭐️ Sonorous: A deep and full sound

⭐️ Wassail: Mulled wine

[jiyascepter]

Midgard Mischief: An Evening in New York

Masterlist

Pairing: Loki x gn!reader

Words: 1,831

Warnings/Content: Fluff. Loki and reader are both Avengers, soft, protective Loki, kissing, mention of other mcu characters (say hello!)

Summary: Loki's first trip to the Earth realm. You take him for an evening out in New York where his protective instincts surface.

A/n: alr first of all let's appreciate this beautiful candid picture of tom. he's so beautiful i can't. i just. can't. this is one of my favourite pictures of him.

Also I needed some suggestions. I'm thinking of writing a series (or more like, parts) ─── 'Midgard Mischief' where the reader & loki visit different places on earth, like they do in this fic. There will be different plots, not connected to each other. How is the idea & if you like it can you suggest some places (countries, famous tourists attractions, random places, anything! ANYTHING!) if possible? It would be a great help! Dms are always welcome !

After a long wait of six months, your boyfriend Loki was finally in Midgard. For the first time. Last time you met him, Thor had invited you to Asgard to fight some dark elves and their leader, Malekith. That’s when you fell in love with his brother, the charming god of mischief.

Today you decided to take Loki out with you and show him around your city like he had when you came to Asgard. But for Loki, it was more like a challenge, almost scary, to face everything in the realm.

The air of Midgard was thick with unfamiliarity— every sound and sight was alien to Loki as he traversed the bustling streets of New York City. His blue eyes darted through the tall skyscrapers, the throngs of people, and the cacophony of noises that assaulted his senses. Layers of confusion built in his mind whenever he saw the bizarre blend of technology and…magic? Is that what it is?

“Images and sounds transmitted through a glowing box? It's like watching a vivid dream unfold before my eyes, except I'm certain no magic was involved. Or was it?” He asks you while you both were passing an electronic shop with many televisions of different sizes on display. “Humans can’t do magic, Loki. I told you before.” You respond with a smile, finding the confused expression on his face too cute.

You were excited for him to be introduced to these things. Things that you used to find normal were a whole new concept to him, and you loved it when he used to listen to you so carefully— the innocent baby-like expression on the almighty god of mischief.

Loki was never one to admit fear. The unfamiliarity of the mortal realm, coupled with the constant possibility of unforeseen dangers, stirred a sense of unease within him. He always had thought mortals were one of the weaker species in all of the nine realms because of shorter life and no knowledge of magic, yet when seen closely, they were a beautiful yet a scary kind. Able to progress so much in a little span of time was fascinating yet frightening at how much these mortals can progress out of curiosity, if given the resources.

Yet, he knew he had to conquer his apprehensions to savor every moment with you, determined to make the most of your time together despite the lurking fear of losing you amidst the chaos of the place.

You take him to Times Square, as what better place could it be for a newcomer to visit?

As you two approach the iconic location, vibrant lights and towering billboards illuminated the night sky, casting a kaleidoscope of colors upon the bustling crowds. Loki’s grip on your hand tightens. So many people. Mortals. Unknown mortals. What if you get lost here? What if someone just grabs you away from him? What if he loses the grip on your hand and gets lost and never finds his way back to you?

You smile at Loki’s reaction, thinking he’s just flabbergasted with the scene. "Welcome to Times Square, Loki. This is one of the busiest and most dazzling places on Earth." Loki looks at you and his face softens and glances back at the buildings. "It seems mortals have a penchant for excess.” You chuckle. “Hm…you could say that. But it’s certainly captivating isn’t it?”

“It’s quite…different from Asgard.” He says with a tinge of fascination as well as skepticism. You snicker and nudge him playfully. “Well, that’s the beauty. It’s diverse, chaotic and endlessly surprising.”

You both continue to move along the street, with you leading Loki through the multitude of people. You notice he was holding on to the helm of your top tightly as you move through a narrow space and turn your head and give him an assured smile. “You’re not gonna get lost, Loki.” He huffs, a tinge of red on his cheeks as you point that out. “But you can."

“Come on, I know this place well.”

He rolls his eyes and looks at you. “The place is too crowded, one glance away and you’ll be gone. And let’s not pretend there are no other dangers as well.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What other dangers?”

Just then, a speedy car whizzes by, its blaring horn causing Loki to instinctively pull you closer to him, shielding you from the potential danger. His heart races for a moment, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he realises the precariousness of mortal life in such bustling environments.

"That," he says, his voice low with concern, "is one of them."

You take a breath, still holding on to him tightly after what happened. “That was close.” He looks down at you, stroking the back of your head and looking at you with concern. “See, I told you. How you managed to survive all this time here is beyond my understanding.”

You chuckle. “I’m fine, Loki, and this incident was just a matter of chance.” You lean in and place a comforting peck on his cheek. He scoffs, cheeks red, but not taking in your point.

“Just take care of yourself, that's what I want…” He mumbles, takes your hand, and walks forward with you.

As you continue your stroll through the vibrant streets of Times Square, Loki's protective instincts seemed to have heightened after the car episode. He was keeping a watchful eye on your surroundings, his grip on your hand never loosening.

Suddenly, a street performer dressed as a superhero approaches, causing Loki to tense up. He positions himself between you and the performer, eyeing him warily as if he were ready to defend you from any potential threat.

You can't help but snicker at his overprotective nature, finding it endearing how he's so quick to jump to your defence.

“Easy there, sweetie.” You chuckle, gently tugging on his arm to calm him down. “He’s just a harmless street performer.”

Loki relaxes slightly, but his guard doesn't falter. He shoots the performer a distrustful look before turning his attention back to you, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he realises his overreaction.

"Sorry," he mutters sheepishly, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. "I just don't want anything to happen to you. You’re too precious."

You smile reassuringly, squeezing his hand affectionately. "I know, Loki. But you don't have to worry. I'm safe with you." His face softens and he leans in to place a kiss on your forehead.

Just then, you realise that maybe the hustling roads of Times Square might not be a place of interest for Loki. You hold his hand and start to pull him along with you.

“Where to, my darling?” he asks.

“A museum.”

As you step into the cool, quiet space, Loki's tense shoulders begin to relax, and he takes in the sight of the ancient artifacts and priceless artworks with a sense of wonder.

You guide Loki through the museum, stopping at various exhibits to admire the intricacies of each piece. His eyes light up as he marvels at the craftsmanship of ancient weapons, the delicate beauty of sculptures, and the vibrant colours of centuries-old paintings.

"Impressive," he murmured, a hint of admiration in his voice. "It seems mortals have a talent for capturing beauty."

As you both wandered through the halls, Loki's curiosity was piqued by a particularly striking painting depicting a scene from Norse mythology. He studied it intently, a flicker of recognition crossing his features before he masked it with a smirk.

"Ah, a tribute to my exploits," Loki remarked, his tone laced with amusement. "It seems I've made quite the impression on your kind." You chuckle. “You’re unforgettable, that’s why.” He smirks, then continues reading through the information provided below the exhibits. He liked it here, it was calm, and not many people were visiting at this hour, allowing him to soften his guard a bit.

“You know,” you say with a light smile playing on your face, your voice echoing through the empty hall, “I always had this fantasy to kiss my boyfriend in a museum.”

Loki turns, a grin on his face as he approaches you. “Is that true, darling? And why a museum?”

You blush and look away. “They just used to show it in the movies a lot…” You murmur.

With you talking about movies all the time, he knew what you meant. He cups your cheeks and turns your face back to him. “So I should fulfill the wishes of my beloved like a good lover, shall I not?”

He takes your hand and pulls you into a corner, tugging your hair behind the ear. You attempt to cup his cheeks, but he takes your hands and gently holds on to them, then reaches out to caress your lower lip softly with his thumb.

“Thank you for bringing me here…” he says in a low voice, then lets go of your hands and leans in to meet your lips.

When you finally pull away, breathless and flushed with desire, Loki gazes into your eyes with a look of adoration and longing. "I never knew a museum could be so…stimulating," he murmurs, his voice husky with eagerness.

You laugh softly, pressing another lingering kiss to his lips. "Well, now you know," you whisper.

x ────

On the following day:

“Jarvis, read the morning news for me.” Tony calls out while walking in the living room of the Avengers compound.

"Sure, sir,” Jarvis says, reading out the heading, ‘Museum Security Footage Captures Romantic Encounter: Mystery Couple Caught in Kiss.'

“In an unexpected turn of events, the security cameras at the renowned Museum of Art and History, New York, have captured a heartwarming moment between two individuals. The footage, obtained by museum authorities during a routine review of surveillance tapes, reveals a tender exchange between two individuals amidst the quiet halls of the museum.

The couple, whose identities remain unknown, can be seen sharing a passionate kiss in a secluded corner of the museum, seemingly unaware of the camera's presence. The footage, which has since gone viral on social media, has sparked speculation and curiosity among museum visitors and online spectators alike.

‘We are currently reviewing the footage and working closely with local law enforcement to identify the individuals involved,’ stated museum director Dr. Rebecca Thompson. ‘While we encourage visitors to appreciate the art and history within our walls, we must also ensure the safety and security of our premises at all times.’ " Jarvis finishes reading.

Tony, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Ugh, seriously? We’re making out in museums now? Can't people save that for the privacy of their own homes? And here I thought Loki was the only one causing mischief around here…" He shakes his head, a look of mock disgust on his face, before turning his attention back to whatever project he has been working on.

Jarvis, in his usual composed tone after running his data on the museum pictures, "Actually, sir-"

Taglist: @chronicallybubbly, @eleniblue, @foxherder, @holdmytesseract, @julia-lokidottier, @vosnatalia, @nyx2021, @wolfsmom1

Want to be added to my taglist? Here! Or hit the comment section or my dms 🥨

[delicatebarness]

i cant read your mind | chapter nine

Summary: Ah, the return of John Walker.

Warnings: MCU Spoilers. Major The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Spoilers.

Word Count: 928

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: Oh look, an update. ALSO text like "This... Bold and Italic." is spoken in Wakandan. But, I am also excited to go back to annoyed Bucky next chapter when John's back in the picture.

Tags: @blackhawkfanatic | @cjand10 | @wintrsoldrluvr | @missvelvetsstuff | @buckys-metal-arm | @matchat3a | @shadowzena43 | @torntaltos | @honeydew3064 | @scott-loki-barnes

The door swung open as Bucky entered the apartment, his strides long as he made his way over to the kitchen. “Well, the Wakandans are here,” he paused momentarily, looking at you. You sat with your knees up to your chest, scrolling on your phone, your gaze met his the second he mentioned the Wakandans. “They want Zemo, bought us some more time.” 

“Were you followed?” Sam asked, as you returned to your phone. You ignored their conversation, taking an interest in your phone again. 

A small gasp escaped your lips, Karli bombed a GRC supply deport, you thought as Bucky vocalized to Sam and Zemo. You listened intensely as Bucky explained what happened to them, while you read along with the article. 

You kept searching for any information, coming up blank as all the articles reused the same information. Going over the list of demands, wondering how the world can agree. Was Zemo right? Is the only way to stop it, by stopping her? 

“But there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?” Zemo asked in response to Bucky.

The couch dipped by the side of you as Bucky sat down. You met his concerned gaze as you glanced up from your phone. You could see the worry over his features. 

Sighing softly, you put your phone down on the cushion next to you. Bucky’s eyes remained locked on yours. 

Without a word, you reached out, placing your hand on his arm. His muscles were tense beneath you, a testament to the stress. His expression began to soften as he looked down at your hand, then back up at you. You gave him a reassuring smile, his lips turned into a faint smile in return. 

He shifted closer to you, his other hand moving to cover yours. Your thoughts couldn’t drift away from the sensation of his touch, his conversation with Sam and Zemo faded into the background. 

~

Zemo led the way into an old courtyard, “Shame what’s become of this place,” he mused. “When I was young, we used to come here for fabulous dinners and parties. I knew nothing of the politics of the time, of course, but I remember it being beautiful.” 

You, Sam, and Bucky looked around, scanning the surroundings. “I’m gonna take a look around upstairs,” Sam said, “See what you can find out here. And, keep an eye on him,” he directed to you and Bucky, nodding towards Zemo. 

“I’ll stay out of your way,” Zemo replied with a slight smile.

You followed Bucky as he approached another group of people, “Donya? No?” he asked cautiously. 

You sighed, sharing a frustrated look with Bucky. This mission was proving more difficult than you anticipated, but you knew giving up wasn’t an option. Bucky continued to search for leads, but the local resistance made his task even more challenging. 

You observed Zemo, he began moving toward a group of children, surprisingly gently. He started singing a familiar tune. You watched his body language, it suggested he was trying to gain their trust. 

“What the hell is he doing?” Bucky muttered as Sam came up beside you, his eyes narrowed toward Zemo. “He’s up to something,” his tone wary.

“Yeah, but we need him,” you replied. “At least for now.” 

Zemo walked back toward you, a triumphant smile on his lips. “Cute kids,” he said simply.

~

The narrow streets of Latvia felt even more claustrophobic as you walked alongside Bucky, your senses on high alert. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily as you approached the location of Zemo’s lead. 

Suddenly, you heard hurried footsteps ahead of you as John Walker and Lemar closed in with determined expressions.

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit,” Walker stated, his voice was sharp. 

Sighing, Bucky rolled his eyes. “Ah! How’d you find us now?”

“Come on. You think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” Lemar retorted while gesturing toward you and Sam. 

Stepping closer to Walker, a playful smirk danced on your lips. “Wow, Johnny, I didn’t realize you were so invested. You like keeping an eye on us, don’t you?” 

Bucky shot you a warning look, however, you ignored it. Stepping between you and Walker.

“No more keeping us in the dark,” Walker stated, looking over Sam’s shoulder and offering you another one of his winks. If hadn’t been enjoying Bucky’s reactions so much, you would have vomited. “You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.” 

“He did that himself, technically.” Bucky scoffed at him. Walker’s eyes remained on you. Sending him a smirk, you listened intensely to the men’s conversation. 

Moving around Sam’s body, you placed a hand on Walker’s arm, your fingers tracing the fabric of his uniform. “You know, it’s nice having a strong, decisive man around. Makes a girl feel… safe,” your voice dripped with flirtation as you smiled up at him. 

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing on you. His patience snapped as he muttered in Wakandan. “Touch him again, and see what happens.” 

“You know, Bucky, it’s cute when you get all worked up.” you teased back to him in Wakandan. Your eyes gleamed with mischief as Walker looked down at you in confusion. 

“I’ll kill him,” he retorted, the tension showing in his shoulders as he stepped closer, edging his way between you and Walker. “Try me.” 

You shrugged nonchalantly, taking a step back after sending Walker a wink. 

As the group continued walking, you couldn’t help but feel Bucky’s gaze on you.

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[zmediaoutlet]

aw, @runawaydr3amerao3 (!!) tagged me to do a little fic questionnaire, which seems like the perfect thing for a springtime friday afternoon -- also a fun (alarming) trip to the AO3 statistics page:

1. How many works on AO3?

220

2. Total AO3 Word Count?

1,589,415

3. Top 5 fics by Kudos?

1. oh so good, oh so fine; 2. there will be better days; 3. see things so much clearer; 4. into the flood again; 5. side two, track one

4. What fandoms do you write for?

...Supernatural, lol. Although I also have dabbled in the usual suspects: J2 AUs, HP, MCU, Final Fantasy, etc.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Usually! Not if they're emojis, but if someone's left actual words I try to respond. I'm currently very behind, yikes, and the new rate-limiter on AO3 is not helping.

6. Angstiest Ending?

Hm. Probably a tie between cheyenne and the hollow summer; they're both no-hope spots, which I normally avoid like plague, but they were appropriate for those stories.

7. Fic with the Happiest Ending?

Arguably it should be any of the heaven fics, haha, but I think it might be the constant vow -- not because nothing bad will ever happen to them again (s7 is coming!), but because they're so tied together by the circumstances of that fic that I think maybe they can weather any danger.

8. Do you get hate?

Sometimes! Rarely regarding fic, though, and I've often wondered why. Maybe because my public-facing affect is so hard-shelled. You can't poke me, trolls. Sorry.

9. Do you write smut?

And well. :)

10. Do you write crossovers?

Only a few! I like them in concept but the only way I like them is if they're hard fucking work, lol. It's a fun challenge tho, sometimes.

11. Ever had a fic stolen?

I know for a fact I've had a few lines plagiarized here and there, and boy is that a queasy-making experience when you notice. But as far as whole fics, idk. Whatever happens on wattpad can stay there.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, a handful, and the BEST thing is to then take that translated fic and run the bot-translation back into English. Some of the shit that happens is surprisingly poetic and some of it will make you laugh until you cry, haha. But I think my favorite is the translation of the heaven fic into Spanish, because the title became so beautiful: llegarán días mejores. <3

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Only once, and it was a shitty experience. Not just bc of other things about the co-writer but like -- I thought we were going to co-write and not what actually happened, which is that I wrote everything and the like two pages she contributed had to get re-written. :/ It's a fun idea in theory but the practice was. Bad.

14. All time favourite ship?

...guess. --ALTHOUGH if we get outside my own writing there are tons of ships I adore and just never feel the need to actually write anything. Shout-out Amram/Zelikman from Gentlemen of the Road.

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I despair of my super long J2 AU that's the xover with the Kushiel 'verse, Nightblooming Flowers. What's there is fun and fine, and kind of works as an ending where it does cut off, but it was supposed to get a complicated knotty plot and... ugh. Also the writing style is a lot more flowery than I actually like to do -- appropriate for the subject matter but it's just not something I gear into easily. Maybe I should reread the book series and just lock in. (Maybe I should quit my job.)

16. Writing Strengths?

I think I'm really good at the balance of when to switch between summary and scene -- and from there pacing generally. To my credit, when it's fucked up in a story I do know; I just don't always have the wherewithal to fix it. :)

17. Writing Weaknesses?

PLOT. And also, as my bud has pointed out, I avoid shenanigans, and that's to my detriment actually. I never want to do cutesy shit -- twists, reveals, ticking clocks, villains, last-minute character introductions, etc. I think this is bc I really learned taste on literary short-form and including things that make reading actually fun is very looked down on, haha. Honestly I should make that a challenge. Shenanigans Bingo.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue?

It's great. I'm only comfortable enough to do it in Spanish pero no es algo debería disputar--debe escribir en el idioma apropriado para el cuento y los personajes. Although I'm never totally sure if I'm using por or para right. Once the entire conversation switches into another language I do prefer that the narrative just quietly indicate that now they're speaking French or w/e and continue in English; actually writing in the other language is most useful when you're obscuring information from the narrative POV (although becomes a nice Bilingual Bonus for the reader).

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Final Fantasy! I'm sure it was bad.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Errr. In one sense, always the most recent one. But I think the actual writing in asceticism might be the best.

Now I get to tag other people, yay. Let's see: @enteselene, @hearthouses-admin; @flownwrong; @nigeltde-fic, @phynali, @quickreaver, @themegalosaurus

[shuririweek]

SHURIRI WEEK 2024 MASTERPOST!

* DO NOT SHARE OFF SITE WITHOUT CREDIT *

⇩ READ BELOW ⇩

THEME DAYS/SCHEDULE:

DAY 1 - FLUFF

DAY 2 - ANGST

DAY 3 - "SHURIBBLE" DAY*

DAY 4 - HURT/COMFORT

DAY 5 - CANON COMPLIANT*

DAY 6 - SONG FIC/YOUR CHOICE*

DAY 7 - ALTERNATE UNIVERSE (AU)*

****Please note:

“SHURIBBLE”: A DRABBLE (TRAD. 100 WORDS) based on Shuriri. In this context, a written work between 100-500 words MAX. (Name credit to @mybonafidefeelings)

CANON COMPLIANT: One major aspect must be compliant to the MCU/COMIC canon - Aside from Shuriri as a pairing.

SONG FIC: A fanfiction that is based on a song(s). This can be/include the MESSAGE, LYRIC OR VIBE. Must include the SONG TITLE(S) in tags and author's note/description.

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE: Your choice but at least one major aspect must differ from the MCU/COMIC canon - Aside from Shuriri as a pairing.

PROMPTS CHALLENGE! (optional):

Prompts are 100% optional. For an extra challenge, pick some to pair with the theme of the day. Prompts can be combined, reused, or avoided. If you choose to use any prompts, PLEASE NOTE THEM IN THE AUTHORS NOTE/DESCRIPTION *AND* TAGS. Please note that ALL NSFW/18+ content MUST be tagged as such to be reblogged/added to AO3 collection.

NSFW/18+:

CHOKING

EDGING

BREEDING KINK

DIRTY TALK/MOANING

SERVICE TOP *OR* BRATTY BOTTOM

MAKING LOVE

VIBRANIUM STRAP

SFW/SUGGESTIVE:

FIRST KISS

A RING

COOKING/SHOPPING TOGETHER

JEALOUSY

CONFESSION(S)

BREAK UP/MAKE UP

SLEEP TOGETHER

SITUATIONS:

FIRST MISSION TOGETHER/MISSION GONE WRONG

STUCK TOGETHER

FIRST ARGUMENT/BIG ARGUMENT

NEAR DEATH/DEATH

CAUGHT IN THE ACT

PANIC ATTACK/TRAUMA

FREE SPACE

WORDS:

TRUST

STRANGER

TATTOO/BEAUTY MARK/SCAR

ASTROLOGY/ZODIAC SIGNS

“DON’T GO”

SOULMATE

“FUCK YOU”

DEMON

“I GUESS”

MOTHER/FATHER

SUBMISSION RULES:

TO BE REBLOGGED: MENTION @SHURIRIWEEK *AND* TAG THE WORK WITH #SHURIRIWEEK2024. If you don't @ the page, your work will not be reblogged. However, people will still see your work under the tag.

ADD TO AO3 SHURIRI WEEK 2024 COLLECTION: The sub-collection for ShuririWeek2024 is open to all REGISTERED Ao3 accounts (per Ao3 regulations). However, I will remove any work that is NOT TAGGED CORRECTLY/WITHIN EVENT RULES. (Link to collection!)

ACCEPTED WORKS: Fanfiction, Fan Art, Mood Boards, Fan Mixes (playlists etc.), Memes, Meta, Fan Edits, Gif Sets, etc. WORKS IN PROGRESS/TEASERS/SNEAK PEAKS WILL ALSO BE ACCEPTED.

NOT ACCEPTED: Any works that have already been posted on Tumblr/Ao3 prior to JANUARY 28 2024 will NOT be reblogged/added to Ao3 collection for ShuririWeek2024. This even is looking for NEW works.

FANFICTIONS/TEXT POSTS: - Fanfictions can be any length, EXCEPT FOR ON DAY 3. - If you're posting anything longer than 150 words, you MUST use the "Keep Reading" feature.

DEADLINE: Content tagged under/mentioning #SHURIRIWEEK2024 and @shuririweek will be reblogged for up to 7 days AFTER FEBRUARY 3rd (ending Feb. 10 2024). After that, I ask that you wait for the next event to tag work with ShuririWeek. (There will be more events soon!)

SHURIRI MUST BE THE MAIN FOCUS: While other characters/OC's are more than welcome, the main characters/main pairing must be Shuri/Riri. This pairing can be romantic, platonic, sexual, enemies etc.

GIVE CREDIT: You MUST tag/link/give credit to any work/content/aspects that are not your original work. If you do not/if you do not have consent to use it, you will be blocked from the page and banned from submitting to Shuriri Week events in the future.

THEMES/PROMPTS: All work should be within the THEME of the day from the Theme calendar (Check FAQ for more info). Prompts, however, are 100% optional. Please note what theme/prompts your using in your description/authors note *and* tags.

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT:

NSFW/18+ CONTENT: NSFW/18+/MDNI/CW/TW: ALL NSFW/SMUT CONTENT MUST BE TAGGED AS SUCH. IT WILL NOT BE REBLOGGED IF IT’S NOT TAGGED AS #NSFW, #MDNI AND/OR #18+.

TAGS/TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNINGS: INCLUDE APPROPRIATE TAGS FOR ALL POTENTIAL TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNINGS. FOR ALL SUBJECT MATTER OR IT WILL NOT BE REBLOGGED/ADDED TO AO3 COLLECTION. I WILL ASK YOU TO REMOVE IT FROM THE TAG. PLEASE UNDERSTAND THAT THIS IS TO MAKE SURE THAT THIS EVENT IS ACCESSIBLE TO EVERYONE. (If you miss one that someone would like you to tag, please just edit the tags!)

NO BASHING/BE KIND: If you don't like a submission, don't engage with it. If you don't like a theme/prompt, don't use it. If you don't want to see Shuriri content, unfollow/mute/block the tag/the account. Keep it simple. If you *DO* like something, leave a like/comment/reblog/kudos! Everyone's work deserves to be celebrated.

NO SPAM: Please do not spam the tag/mentions with reposts of your work. This is not fair to other people participating and you will be asked to stop/your work will not be reblogged by the page.

PLEASE BE PATIENT: As of now, there is only ONE admin (@blacksapphhicmaddonna) for this event. Your submission WILL be reblogged by the page ASAP! Until then, others will still be able to see it in the tag!

PLEASE CONTACT THE PAGE OR ADMIN BEFORE REPORTING WORKS OR ISSUES UNDER THE TAG.

ZERO TOLERANCE: RACISM + ANTIBLACKNESS, HOMO/TRANSPHOBIA, MISOGYNY/MISOGYNOIR, COLORISM, TEXTURISM, SEXUAL/SUGGESTIVE BEHAVIOR BETWEEN MINORS, ETC. Don't ruin it for everyone by being a weirdo or a bigot.

Still have questions?

Check out the FAQ (Link)

DM the admin @blacksapphhicmaddonna

That's all!

I'm so excited for ShuririWeek 2024 and can't wait to see all the amazing works everyone creates!

For the next event, everyone will be voting for themes and prompts! Stay tuned and enjoy!

Thanks so much for participating! Much love x,

@blacksapphhicmaddonna / @shuririweek

@fandomweeks love your page, pls share when you get a chance💜💜💜💜

edit: sorry about the typo for "breeding kink". it's been changed in the original post text but reblogs may not show it. I haven't changed the graphic yet.

[ogradyfilm]

Recently Viewed: Thunderbolts*

[The following review contains MINOR SPOILERS; YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!]

As far as the art of adaptation goes, Thunderbolts* manages to find legitimately creative solutions to some rather significant narrative challenges. It borrows its title—and very little else—from a Kurt Busiek comic series in which the aptly named Masters of Evil masquerade as a new team of superheroes, using good public relations as a shield to obfuscate their true nefarious purposes (until several members discover that they prefer altruism, anyway). Obviously, this premise simply cannot be replicated within the context of the MCU, which features relatively few recurring antagonists; in conventional Hollywood blockbusters, after all, the bad guy is supposed to die at the end—that’s just an established rule of the medium. Its story instead more closely resembles the “Cap’s Kooky Quartet” era of Stan Lee’s run on The Avengers—an odd period early in the book’s history that saw Steve Rogers assemble a squad of reformed criminals (including Hawkeye and Scarlet Witch) following the disbandment of the original “A-list” version of the group.

Regardless of the source material, the film is a competently crafted example of the stock “ragtag band of misfits set aside their differences in order to overcome seemingly insurmountable odds” plot—not as elegantly executed as James Gunn’s The Suicide Squad, perhaps, but certainly vastly superior to David Ayer’s abysmal Suicide Squad. Although the overarching structure is somewhat formulaic and typical of the genre—our protagonists meet, fight, reluctantly join forces once they’ve resolved their initial misunderstanding, gradually develop a grudging respect for one another, and ultimately become something akin to an actual family—the moment-to-moment details elevate this familiar framework. The cast is particularly superb, enriching characters that are already delightfully flawed, nuanced, and morally ambiguous on the page: Wyatt Russell, for instance, effortlessly conveys the corrosive self-loathing lurking beneath U.S. Agent’s façade of unwavering confidence (i.e., arrogance); David Harbour’s tragicomic turn as The Red Guardian is likewise deliciously contradictory, imbuing the Soviet super-soldier’s boisterous personality with a sense of vulnerability and insecurity. Florence Pugh, however, is the real MVP, delivering such a transcendently beautiful performance that it almost defies description; her interpretation of Black Widow is a surprisingly authentic portrait of ennui, trauma, and self-destruction—which makes watching her claw her way out of a literal void of nihilism and despair a genuinely cathartic and emotionally rewarding experience.

I don’t know if I’d argue that Thunderbolts* represents a “return to form” for Marvel, necessarily, nor would I classify it as a "course correction"; nevertheless, it gracefully demonstrates what talented filmmakers can accomplish even within the suffocating limitations of corporate “content” production. Boasting clearly-defined themes, solid stunt choreography, and cinematography with some semblance of depth and texture, it stands head-and-shoulders above the rest of the studio’s recent output (in other words: slightly above average when graded on a curve—good enough).

[bridgetlynn]

So, I’ve decided Frank Langdon is an LBD. I’ve been poking around and doing some actual writing as well as writing exercises (to stretch some old muscles) and that beautiful blue-eyed himbo is a total Little Black Dress.  I have yet to think of a single “world” where he wouldn’t make sense with a little prodding around - (for fuck’s sake he even looks like he could be one of Bruce Wayne’s fetish adoptions) - he’s a doctor, not a fetus but he's also not old, he’s from a “normie” fandom (which means there’s no already established fantasy lore layered on him to take into account), he might be abrasive when backed into a corner - but he’s also just subby enough to be adaptable...total LBD. 

In other words - the Character that Goes with Anything!

I love finding new ones of those. They’re the funnest barbies to have. 

For years I’ve heard this expression in fandom - and it’s crossed so many different lines that I’m certain this won’t be the first for many of you either. I can tell you the first time I heard the expression was years (years) ago for the Rough Trade writing challenge - the July session used to be called something like the Little Black Dress challenge - and it was a Sentinel Fusion challenge because it’s pretty much accepted that “The Sentinel” is the one fandom that can be crossed with any other fandom/source material on the planet without any kind of logistical issue. 

(Admittedly the lore of “The Sentinel” has universally morphed and barely resembles the tv show anymore - it’s way better. Thank you fellow nerds)

To a lesser extent Highlander works here too - as an overall LBD Fandom.

Throughout this idea there’s certain characters in various fandoms where this “LBD Theory” can be applied to them.  These are characters with barely any thought to it you can pick them up and drop them head first into any other fandom and they will fit. You might need to do a tiny bit of tailoring - but usually not much.  These characters are also almost universally pairable with any other character you could think of within their own universe or outside of it - even the pairings that might ‘cause a slight head tilt and a “whhhaaa?” after you really think of it; they are workable. 

Some examples of these characters (or at least my examples):

Anthony DiNozzo (NCIS)

Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley (9-1-1)

Neal Caffrey (White Collar)

Darcy Lewis (MCU)

Tony Stark (MCU not comic version)

Hermione Granger (ignore the Rowling of it all for a hot second - girl was the fandom’s fanfic bicycle - and it worked)

The ideas that came potentially flooding in (for both serious and cracky crossovers) after I came to this conclusion is insane.

[darsynia]

Pascal's Wager (Brodinsons oneshot)

Summary: There was no challenge in conquering a primitive, superstitious race. When Thor argues that Midgard has become much more advanced a realm, perhaps even so far as to reject belief in either of their divinity, Loki is intrigued. Then, his earnest oaf of a brother suggests a wager.

Word Count/Warnings: 1,100 | none

Written shortly after watching the first episode of Loki; as a true crime fan I was delighted by the idea of the trickster god as D.B. Cooper, and wanted to come up with the circumstances. @thorfics this is for you!

MASTERLIST | MCU MASTERLIST

Pascal’s Wager: Humans bet with their lives whether or not God truly exists.

It took a thousand years for Loki to find Thor’s favorite of the nine realms interesting enough to bother with. Compared with life on Asgard, Midgard was dull, full of lesser beings with lesser imaginations who had only very recently dragged themselves out of complete mediocrity. What good was conquering a race of filthy, groveling worms when their most lavish palace had no means beyond his own powers to heat it comfortably? He’d visited every hundred years or so and left disappointed in the complete lack of challenge.

Midgard would be his someday, but only once the conquest mattered.

Thor, though… Thor delighted in the accursed place, even back when they were both young and the humans were only just starting to question their long-held ignorance. How ironic that their pathetic consensus grew to exclude magic as something that truly existed, even as an actual god walked among them, imbued with it? Then again, Thor had never been a showman of the sort that would preserve belief in the mystical. His strengths were as grounded as his fancies were not; and when Loki saw that gleam in his eye which signaled a return to Midgard, he simply couldn’t resist.

“Off to your pet planet again, brother? Tell me, how have you been able to resist teaching those squealing sows the means to harness electricity? Doesn’t it gall you to be fawned on by a people who fear the very essence of your power?”

“Not at all,” Thor said pleasantly. He rested a large hand on the balcony column and looked out over the landscape below them, nodding toward it. “Asgard’s beauty is unmatched, but Midgard has a raw excitement that comes from being so young. And you’re wrong-- a good deal of them have access to electricity now. It’s a very different place.”

Loki sniffed disdainfully. “Still far too eager to believe in an all-powerful god who will rescue them from their pitiful folly?”

“Some, maybe,” Thor allowed. “Why? Are you looking for an excuse not to follow through with your childhood dream? Loki, the God-Emperor of Midgard?”

Of course Thor would put it that way. Loki had been quite shocked to discover on his first visit to the wretched place that the glorious culmination of his boyhood goal was so easily achievable as to be practically worthless. Within an hour of his contact with humans, he’d been treated with frightened deference, as was appropriate, but it had all gone downhill from there. Oh, the regional warlord had offered the Lord Loki his humble abode, but it had been humble. No gold to be found, not even gold leaf. None of the chairs had been sturdy. It had been cold and dark, and the act of providing his own illumination had prompted fully half of the assembled crowd to flee in abject terror.

Fear was to be expected, but over proper lighting for a feast? Not that what had been served could be described as such. No, Loki had told his supplicants that they were profoundly unworthy and left in disgust.

“Come now, you know there’s no sweetness in an easy conquest,” Loki said. It was a rebuke. His brother found much sweetness in such a thing, when the fight was about desire rather than dominion.

“I doubt it has been easy for a while, Loki. Midgard is a bustle of technology, primitive though it may be. Tarry too much longer and you may find yourself in need of help to achieve your goals.”

That piqued his interest. “Really?”

“Indeed. I’d wager you’d find it difficult to find even one human willing to believe you’re a god worth bowing to, much less a kingdom’s worth,” Thor said. He strode over and reached for one of the apples in the silver basket at the center of the table Loki was reclining beside. With a quick gesture, Loki drew the apple to his own hand using his magic, conjuring up a squat pine cone of like shape to replace it. Thor grabbed the pine cone and immediately dropped it, shaking his hand with a muttered oath.

“Are you trying to imply I’m too slow?” Loki asked him, biting into the apple. It was sour, the inside rotten, but another infusion of magic concealed that inconvenient fact from his brother.

“I am,” Thor stated confidently. “Your reputation there is thin as rabbit’s blood by now. All they remember are your tricks, your unreliability.” Thor grinned, that characteristic vitality and puppy-like joy shining through his blue eyes.

“You fail to provide one measly harvest after a volcano and suddenly it’s all negative press,” Loki sighed, tossing the rotten apple over the balcony’s edge. “Ahh, well. That just shows I’m willing to punish unbelievers.” He stood and tapped a thin finger on his chin thoughtfully. “You say they’ve advanced, yet still hold to some of the old ways? What about luxury?”

“You’re still sore about the lack of palaces, aren’t you? Should have dropped by a few centuries ago. Opulence and fashion--”

“Human opulence is almost certainly lacking in proper sanitation,” Loki interrupted, but Thor’s eyes were closed, caught up in the memory.

“--low necklines, long skirts, and quite a few disused hallways. There’s worship, and then there’s worship.”

“How stimulating for you,” Loki said. “Before you devolve into describing exactly how you wielded your hammer, are you serious about this bet of yours? Tell me what it entails, I grow weary of your pontificating.”

“You wanted two things, did you not? Subjects who believed in your godhood and fitness to rule, and what? A proper castle from which to rule?” Thor asked, crossing his massive arms. “What say we each try for the first, and once one of us succeeds in gaining followers, the other must furnish the second, paid for with Midgardian means. No magic, no trickery.”

“Come now,” Loki chuckled, spreading his hands out in an amused plea. “That’s hardly fair. You, who cannot properly employ trickery, banning its use? If that’s the case, I’ll set forth an interdiction against feats of strength.”

“You’re saying I cannot build the palace myself, and you cannot conjure it? I accept,” Thor said. “The loser must earn the funds with which to construct his brother’s palace. The Midgardian way. Is it agreed?”

Thor had not outlawed using magic to create belief. The image of his regal brother using Mjölnir to work in a dark, dirty mine was quite glorious.

“It is agreed,” Loki said with a slow, satisfied smile.

[antvnger]

((I'm so frustrated right now. I keep seeing videos on Youtube saying that Ant-Man 3 is the worst way to end a trilogy or it's the worst MCU movie 'EVER' and other things. It's driving me nuts.

Can you do us a favour and tell us all the great things about it? 😭))

((GLADLY!!

*pulls out soap box and megaphone and stands on the box*

*speaking into megaphone* Testing, 1, 2, 3. Testing, 1, 2, 3.

Attention good people! I am here to remind you about the really good things about Ant-Man and the Wasp Quantumania! Because this movie deserves it!

First of all! To those who say this movie ripped off Star Wars, lemme tell ya, Scott Lang is a Star Wars nerd and if he was told a part of his life reminded people about Star Wars, he would eat that crap up!

And honestly, that was one of the coolest atmospheres I ever saw in an MCU movie. The Quantum Realm was beautiful and full of really creative creatures and landscapes and colors and it was better than I envisioned. I love how they portrayed the Quantum Realm.

While we're on this subject, the probability storm was ingenious and really fun to watch in my opinion. OF COURSE the QR would have something to that effect. It was an intriguing premise, and I would love to learn more just about probability storms in the QR tbh.

And what's even more beautiful is showing ALL of those Scott probabilities teaming up to help save Cassie because no matter what the challenge may be there is a 100% chance Scott Lang will do anything to help his daughter!

AND THEN if that wasn't enough, having all of Scott's probabilities and Hope's probabilities merging into one unit as if every probability led to them succeeding when they work as a team???? Poetic cinema, y'all!

I got ahead of myself, let's jump back to the beginning. Here we find Scott Lang living his best life, and I am here for it. He is successful, he is happy, he is loved, and he is loving people and life and getting the recognition he so rightfully deserves.

Those kids in the library dressed up as Ant-Man and with Ant-Man action figures and stuff? *cries* Scott deserves that.

And he also gets to enjoy life now. He gets to be a dad and tell dad jokes and finally relax and not have to worry about prison sentences or missing out on stuff or some crazy crisis pulling him away from his family. He's happy, and he's earned it.

Cassie calling Hank "Grandpa" gives me life.

Having my headcanon confirmed that one of Scott's favorite places to be is on top of the Golden Gate Bridge and him and Hope having a cute little date up there? I mean how cute are they?

Scott and Hank's relationship has grown so much, and it makes me happy like seriously. *so proud* "You read my book?" *so proud* "Every goddamn word." And when you read the book, there's a really nice interview there between Scott and Hank which makes that scene that much better to me now. Like it's wonderful.

People have been saying that Scott acted ooc in this movie, and I'm like no. No, he did not. He's not the same guy we met back in 2015. He's grown up some, he's figured some things out, he's got a better handle on life than he did back then, and he wants to protect and preserve it as much as he can. Especially Cassie's life and happiness. And why not? We all know he was like that before Endgame and then after Scott watching Tony with Morgan and knowing better than literally anyone else there (I take that back, literally everyone else there except for Doctor Strange of course) what Tony sacrificed...Scott's not ooc in this movie. He's growing. And good for him.

Paul Rudd's acting, I swear. He's amazing. The entire performance was phenomenal. Period.

This was a really good intro movie for Cassie as Stature. I'm really hoping that's what they'll go with because it sounds so much cooler than Stinger. And it's a really good intro because not only does she have her dad teaching her things midbattle that click for her later on, she is facing a ghost from her past that traumatized her. I think it was important she face Darren again. Facing him, evading him, and eventually overcoming him and her fear of him is a good jumpstart for Cassie, in tandem with the legacy her dad and grandad built, into this superhero role she so desperately wants. It was a growing moment for her too, and for her to realize that the monster that haunted her childhood wasn't a threat to her anymore was empowering for her. She's outgrown Darren Cross, and honestly, if I think about it a little more, there's a really good message for us in there too.

"This has been a weird day." Like Scott, my sweetheart, you're so relatable, I love you.

Could Hope have had a bigger role? Yes. *shrugs* I get what they were doing, but it could have been done better. But hey! She came in clutch at the end, which only underlines everything from AMATW: "Maybe you just need somebody watching your back, like a partner." And that's exactly what Hope is and did! My boy Scott was ready to make the sacrifice play yet again, and Hope swoops in and was like not alone you're not! All hail Queen Hope van Dyne!

And MicroSCOPE fans rejoice, I love you's happened! For those who are like "why didn't they kiss??" like hello? Covid restrictions, my dudes, so calm down.

Also what Hope's doing with that company of hers now? Like oh my gosh! She's doing what I've been saying Pym Tech should do with the shrinking technology, and I'm so glad Hope agrees because now I feel smart ;)

"She wasn't you, baby." Like please. I want someone to tell me this. That's love and devotion and a breath of fresh air from how Hank was in the comics.

Alright, I know you all have been waiting for this, so here it is. We get Kang the Conqueror. We set up the upcoming phase for the MCU. We show the importance, the intensity, the severity of what's to come without sacrificing the heart and humor of the Ant-Man movies. And honestly, I think they pulled it off.

And Kang was phenomenal. The controversy surrounding Majors aside, he was an incredible actor in this movie. He did such a good job, and I hope we do not suffer a recast.

Speaking of Kang, let's not forget that there is nothing quite as...fascinating as a character we know to be good and pure and sunshine personified just absolutely go ham. GiAnt-Man getting angry over Kang having Cassie in his grasp is really good, hot tea y'all, and I love it. After having imagined instances where Scott would get genuinely angry and imagining what that would look like and then to see it in canon? I feel validated.

I've said it a million times: Momma Bear ain't got nothing on Ant-Dad!

"I don't have to win. We both just have to lose." This quote still haunts me. It's so good and honestly it's so...Scott.

And also! For those who said it would have been better if Scott and Hope got stuck in the QR, shut up. No it wouldn't. No. It. Would. Not. It would have been predictable, and I feared it. I knew it was coming, and I was prepared to cry over it. Seriously. The intense relief I felt when Cassie rescued them genuinely choked me up a bit, I'm not gonna lie. It's good they're not trapped.

Also, I'm guessing those of you who are saying being trapped in the QR would have been better than the ending we got don't deal with anxiety and worry eating away at your insides until you feel like they're just gnawing at your bones, don't ya? Because my boy is seriously trying not to panic over the fact that he may have very well doomed the universe he just finished rescuing.

And honestly, that's more relatable. That's more human. We can relate with that, we can ache about that, and honestly, me just thinking about Scott trying not to have a panic attack over all of this is making my chest tight too like I'm in his shoes. The human element, very prominent in the Ant-Man movies.

Seriously. Did these people watch the same movie I saw? Because this movie has so many of the things we love about the Ant-Man films. It has heart, it has comedy, it has that familial love we love to see, it has a gorgeous and mysterious landscape, it has a badass villain, and most importantly it has ants.

And anyone who says this is the worst MCU movie probably hasn't seen all the movies because I can think of 4 off the top of my head that made me want to bang my head against the wall. And guess what? Quantumania is nowhere on that list.

I could go on, but apparently I hit a text limit in Tumblr, so I had to cut back. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. No, I am not up for debating the amazingness of this movie. Any and all hate towards it will be removed from this blog, thank you.))

[balaenopterazolo-blog]

Reading list Dec 2024

On Killing: The Psychological Cost of Learning to Kill in War and Society by Dave Grossman. It is required reading at the FBI Academy, the DEA Academy, the US Air Force NCO Academy, and other law enforcement agencies and military schools around the US. The book is based on S.L.A. Marshall's theory that the majority of soldiers in war do not ever fire their weapons due to an innate resistance to killing.

Hadji Murad by Leo Tolstoy. One critic said of the book "[it is] my personal touchstone for the sublime of prose fiction, to me the best story in the world." Written 50 years after its events, the story is about a real-life Avar rebel commander. Tolstoy described Murad as "the leading dare-devil and ‘brave’ of all Chechnya".

The Old Words by kvikindi/@septembriseur A Helmut Zemo & Winter Soldier (MCU) fanfic. Content warnings: discussion of violence, suicide, war crimes including death, child death, sexual assault. The author notes she is clear Zemo did not rape, but looking back, that is ridiculous.

Voices from Chernobyl: The Oral History of a Nuclear Disaster by Svetlana Alexievich, Nobel Laureate, originally published in Russian in 1997 as Chernobyl Prayer, 9 years after the disaster. She interviewed more than 500 eyewitnesses, including firefighters, liquidators (members of the cleanup team), politicians, physicians, physicists, and ordinary citizens over a period of 10 years.

Daughter of the Tigris by Muhsin Al-Ramli. A beautiful urbane woman marries a sheikh so she can travel Iraq searching for the corpse of her father. Sequel to The President's Gardens which was longlisted for the IPAF, known as the "Arabic Booker".

Chasing the Flame: One Man's Fight to Save the World by Samantha Power, Pulitzer Prize winner, a biography of Sergio Vieira de Mello. De Mello worked for the UN for 30 years, and was positioned to be the UN Secretary-General, before his 2003 death in Iraq. A profile in courage and humanity--and an unforgettable meditation on how best to manage the deadly challenges of the twenty-first century. His career involved peace negotiations in post-invasion Lebanon, the repatriation of Cambodian refugees, and the cease-fire talks in Bosnia, among others.

Black Like Me by John Howard Griffin. A reporter in 1959 darkens his skin and travels around the American South to document racism. He later worked with Civil Rights leaders like Dr Martin Luther King Jr.

The Women in Black by Madeleine St John. The author has been shortlisted for the Booker Prize. A 'meringue' of a novel about several Australian women working for a department store in 1959 Sydney, contrasted with some Continental (European) refugees. Has a movie and an upcoming TV series.

Lee Lockwood: Castro's Cuba: An American Journalist's Inside Look At Cuba, 1959-1969 by Saul Landau This volume includes Lockwood’s photographs of Cuba and Castro, many insightful observations, and extensive excerpts from the legendary Lockwood-Castro conversations. Between 1959 and 1969, photojournalist Lee Lockwood documented Cuba and Fidel Castro with unprecedented freedom and access, including a marathon seven-day interview with Castro himself.

Daring to Drive by Manal al-Sharif Memoir of a Saudi woman known for leading the #Women2Drive movement challenging the ban on women driving in Saudi Arabia. Also covers other topics including Saudi prisons, female genital mutilation, author's marriage.

Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood by Trevor Noah #1 “Language, even more than color, defines who you are to people.” #2 “The way my mother always explained it, the traditional man wants a woman to be subservient, but he never falls in love with subservient women. He’s attracted to independent women. “He’s like an exotic bird collector,” she said. “He only wants a woman who is free because his dream is to put her in a cage.”

Little Boy Lost by Marghanita Laski Hilary Wainwright, widower, poet, intellectual, returns after the war to a blasted and impoverished France in order to trace a child lost five years before.

A Place of Greater Safety by Hilary Mantel Described by septembriseur as the book that had the most impact on them. Hilary Mantel won the Booker Prize twice.

Sing and Shout: The Mighty Voice of Paul Robeson by Susan Goldman Rubin Biography of a singer, actor, and activist. What I found interesting was his positive attitude of Europe compared to America regarding their treatment of him as a black person.

[fostertheory]

If the writers want him to, sure.

I wrote that flippantly, but that really is the bottom line. Originally, in comics, it was an indication of his essence as a hero, of his commitment to do the right thing. That's why Steve Rogers being able to lift it has been shown multiple times. Essentially the idea excludes anti-heroes. The MCU has used this framing so far.

Now, that can lead us into notions that some are unassailably blessed and others are irredeemable. (I chose the words of that dichotomy deliberately, btw.) That has been signaled in various piecs of literature and film as beautiful = virtuous and ugly = depraved. Walt Simonson challenged that notion by creating Beta Ray Bill, not from central casting, but every bit as Worthy. (Style note, I capitalize Worthy to denote the property of being able to lift Mjolnir, distinct from being worthy in other meritorious senses.)

That idea has been further interrogated over the last 25 years or so. Dan Jurgens showed Thor losing his Worthiness after becoming king and conducting himself in a tyrannical way. People are not all one thing or another, and someone can grow and, on balance, worth for the greater good. The blessed/irredeemable bifurcation is a concept well enmeshed in Christian thinking and can lead to harm--turning a blind eye to abuse in the church, for example, or seeing no value in investment in poor communities. It was a topic in this space about 10 years ago, when What If? Age of Ultron #3 came out. That showed Black Widow lifting Mjolnir to save the Nine Realms from Jorgumand (the world serpent) after it felled Thor.

The way OP posed the question (at first) suggests it asks whether works makes a person Worthy or whether it is an intrinsic property of the person (I am again deliberately using a Christian framing). The more traditional view is that it is intrinsic (i.e., by grace, though I guess in this case it would be Odin's grace, even though he has his moral ambiguities) That the notion plays out with Christian dimensions is a bit absurd, considering it is an adaptation of a pre-Christian belief system and considering Kirby and Lee were Jewish. But I think it's a reflection of the US culture from which the adaptation sprang.

Re-reading the previous paragraph, I added in "(at first)". My second thought is the question could be asking which character Mjolnir is evaluating--Thor's or the mind-controller. I think we can agree that controlling someone else's mind is an unWorthy act, so audiences probably would have a hard time accepting Mjolnir being wielded by a then-controlled Thor.

On the other hand, in one Hulk vs. Thor battle (Hulk: Let the Battle Begin #1 [2010]), Hulk, instead of wielding Mjolnir, wielded Thor, forcing him to strike himself repeatedly with his own hammer until he lost the contest. Is controlling Thor's mind categorically different from controlling his body?

Writers probably could make it go either way, depending on what the plot needs.

If MCU! Thor was being mind controlled, would he still be able to lift his hammer?

[the-canary]

Summary: Neither of you thought there were things the other was so afraid of. 

Pairing: Enhanced!Reader/Steve Rogers 

Status: Complete

Part 1

Part 2 

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5 

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10 

Epilogue

[avengerscompound]

Serendipity

Serendipity: A Winterwidowhawk Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count:  1710

Warnings:  angsty, probs some adult themes.

Synopsis:   There has been a lot of terrible things that Natasha, Bucky, and Clint have had to endure, but they’ve all lead here.

A/N:  For @until-theend-oftheline ‘s #MCU Beautiful Words Challenge using the prompt Serendipity.

Serendipity

Serendipity: The chance occurrence of unfortunate events with a beneficial outcome.

It was a long and dark path that led here.  Each thing, both large and small aligning just right so that one day the four of you would decide that you didn’t care anymore.  You had had enough and people could say what they liked about you, you were due some god damn fucking happiness and you would take it when you could.

The first was clear and not many people knew about it.  In 1928 an infant girl with bright red hair was taken from a Russian Orphanage and brought to a facility known as Krasnaya Komnata.  It was here the very first cog was put in place.  A girl barely able to raise her head had been selected to become an assassin and super-soldier.

The next one was less clear.  What point in Bucky Barnes’ life could you point at and say; ‘That there is the reason you became the Winter Soldier’.

Certainly, if he hadn’t he’d likely have married, fathered some children and died of old age while you were still getting driven to and from school.

Maybe it was the experimentation that he went through when he was first captured by HYDRA.  Without that first lot of serum, it would have been unlikely he’d have survived when he fell from the train.  Or was it before that?  When he had signed up for the army in the first place.   Maybe it wasn’t even his doing?  Had his friend Steve Rogers not signed up for the super-soldier program, and not then been made to perform like a circus animal, he’d have never been in place to save Bucky from HYDRA that first time.  Nor would he have been there to give his mind a shake the second time either.

Definitely, the fall was an important one.  When Sargent James Buchanan Barnes was listed as lost in combat and no one went to search for him.  When he was dragged through the snow, bleeding from the stump where his arm had been torn from his body, his body broken and shutting down.  When HYDRA pumped him full of serum and froze him, thus marking the start of decades of torture and mind control.

Next came Bucky’s transfer to the KGB.  Maybe it wasn’t as important to the two previous things.  Had a young ballerina not taken pity on the brainwashed assassin maybe she wouldn't have been so curious about his memories when Steve had brought him into the group.  Maybe she wouldn't have lingered as long as she did in the room when he was there waiting for him to acknowledge her.  If that same assassin hadn't in turn taken pity on the ballerina and held himself back from the unspeakable acts that he was ordered to perform as part of her training, maybe he wouldn't have been so keen to earn her forgiveness for the things he hadn't been able to control.  Maybe they wouldn't have circled each other the way they did.  Like two moths that were drawn to an open flame.

Or maybe that attraction they had might have been there either way.  The Red Room did leave its mark on both of them, that much was true.  Marks like that are hard to cover up and it did affect their later connection.

The next thing that happened was two boys who had bounced from one abusive home to the next finally bounced their way into a traveling circus.  The older of the two had a talent for pickpocketing and grifting that the circus decided they'd exploit.  The younger had a talent for acrobatics and archery that the circus decided to encourage.  

When the skills of the older bothered the younger enough he turned and Shield grabbed him.  ‘Hawkeye: The World’s Greatest Marksman’ became ‘Hawkeye: Agent of SHIELD’ and the next cog fell into place.  Had Clint and Barney Barton not been beaten daily by their father, Barney would never have taught Clint how to take that beating and keep getting up.  Had their parents not died in the car accident Clint and Barney wouldn’t have found themselves in that home with yet another abusive man.  If he hadn’t beat them, they wouldn’t have run and stumbled into the circus.  Without the circus, he’d have never learned archery.  Without archery, he wouldn’t have been recruited by SHIELD.  Without SHIELD… well, things would have turned out very differently indeed.

You see if Clint Barton hadn’t joined SHIELD it would have been someone else that had been sent to kill the Black Widow.  If that had been the case, well, more than likely the one who had would have been Coulson or maybe Hill.  They would have just got on with the job and Natalia Romanova would be buried in an unmarked grave somewhere in Russia and the rest of you would be traveling down completely different paths that probably would have never intersected.

It had been Clint though.  Clint who saw things others didn’t.  Who grew up with criminals and abusers and was good at detecting the intentions of other people.  Who could read past the lies and see the real truth in people.  It was Clint who had made another choice.

That choice had meant that Natasha had joined SHIELD.  That the two of them became friends.  Best friends.  Friends with benefits.  That when the time came that SHIELD fell they took the leap into the Avengers together.  Being in the Avengers meant being near Steve Rogers.  Being near Steve Rogers meant that when the Winter Soldier had finally shaken off the shackles of what HYDRA had made him, they were near Bucky too.

The three of them spent a while circling each other.  More like water down a drain than sharks around prey.  The problem was that a lifetime of abuse makes forming bonds difficult.  It’s hard to know what the appropriate level of affection is.  It’s hard to accept it when you expect it to be taken away or used against you.  It’s hard to interpret your own feelings.  So two would sleep together but not admit feelings, while two would dance around a dark past they were both too scared to admit to, and one guy just really had this thing for the scary dude with the metal arm and shit that was new, what could he do about that?

Would anyone say it was worth it?  That all the pain and suffering, all the lives that had been lost on the way were a fair price to pay for what they had now? Each one of them would change any of their pasts or the pasts of the others if it was in their power to do so.  It wasn’t that the price was fair, it was more a sense of relief that after all that, they’d found a safe place to fall.

There was still one piece of the puzzle missing.  For three people who are too scared to follow their feelings and too fucked up to recognize what they mean do not make a relationship.  There was one-quarter of the equation missing.

You.

You hadn’t had quite the ride they had.  In comparison, it was positively mundane.  There was no HYDRA or KGB in your history.  No assassin school or circus.  No one had been sent to kill you nor had you ever been sent to kill anyone else.  Maybe that’s what they needed though.  They needed the bad stuff to end so they good stuff could finally take over.

They definitely needed a coffee.

People with that level of trauma often have trouble sleeping.  Especially when they avoided doing anything to actually treat it.  Instead of sleep, they dosed up on caffeine.  Which for them meant coffee, which brought them to you at the coffee shop around the corner from the Avengers Tower.

Initially, they came for the coffee.  Over time they each realized they kept returning for you.

It wasn’t that they realized it was a romantic thing, to begin with.  Maybe the romantic parts of them had died off a long time ago anyway.  They just knew there was something about you that made them feel better.  More comfortable in the space they occupied.  More open to actually being happy.

There was no way of explaining it fully.  Maybe it was the fact you intentionally wrote Bucky’s name wrong on the cup every time, which delighted Clint.  Clint’s light-hearted ribbing led to Bucky’s relaxing into the fact that he might actually have friends.  Maybe it was the latte art you did on Natasha’s coffee that made both Bucky and Clint would tease her about it.  Maybe it was the free cookies.  Or the refills.  Or the fact they just really loved the way you actually seemed to light up when they came in.  That a normal everyday person might be excited to see them.  Not because they were famous.  Just because they were them.

Maybe it was that you were just that right kind of normal that showed them how they could make their own kind of normal.

Which is what they did.  First Bucky spoke to Natasha and they got all their baggage and unpacked it together until they felt they could be something other than people hurt by the Red Room.

Next Clint told Natasha how he felt.  How he really felt.  Not just about her.  About himself and Bucky and even you.  Natasha wanted Clint to be happy above almost everything else and she realized that maybe that meant she needed to find her happiness too.

Then the three of them asked you if you'd like to hang out sometime.  Maybe get a drink.  Not coffee.

And then, and then, and then...

It was Serendipity.  A whole lot of horrible things that all played an important part in getting to the good part.  Which was this.  Four people together in a way a lot of people didn't understand.

No one else needed to.  You understood.  This worked because they needed it to, so they made it work.

“Pchelka, can you get some warm water?”

Natasha’s voice echoed through the apartment in Bedstuy you all shared.  You got up with a groan and made your way to the kitchen.  “What’s happened?”  You called back.

“Clint got his tongue stuck to James’ arm.”  She replied.

You laughed and shook your head as you turned the faucet on and waited for the water to heat up.  “Not again?”

“You might want to hurry, darling.  Clint’s trying to pull himself free.”  She called.

So… maybe there might be some more accidents along the way.  That was life after all.