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oitommothetease · 4 years ago

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Invisible String (6/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Word Count: 2.1k words

Bucky couldn't recall the last time he had a genuine conversation with someone who wasn't his best mates, Sam and Steve. He enjoyed your company and as much as he hated to let his guard down, he wanted to do just that with you. You were everything that Bucky thought he would find repulsive, but he couldn’t help but be attracted towards you. And for the first time he wanted more, he didn't want a one-night stand or a fling with you, he wanted to know you. He admired your courage and bravery, but mostly he admired you. You, with all your stupid yet funny jokes and spontaneity; he liked you more than he would like to admit.

But there was this thing that you were his employee and one meal doesn't count as a date. It was just a meal. But yet, Bucky wanted it to be more. He had never been so intrigued by another person, but it was also clear that you didn't reciprocate his interest. And Bucky would have all of his 206 bones crushed out rather than giving his heart to someone only for it to be not requited.

So, when you walked into the club the next day, pretending as if nothing had changed, Bucky knew where your relationship lay with him, and he was content with it. Okay, he wasn't content with it, but he knew he couldn't force something that wasn't there. He would choose to be in your life as your boss, acquaintance, or maybe even a friend if he's lucky enough than to not be in your life at all.

***

When you got settled behind the counter, your mood wasn't that great. It could be because you weren't drunk this time, or maybe because you enjoyed your meal with your boss a little too much for your liking. You wouldn't call it a date, but it sure as hell was a lot better than all the dates or meals you've had with people.

Your good mood was definitely not because of the fact that your mother called only to inform you that this family friend's son is not going to wait around long, and you should at least find a stable job if you can't find a suitable boyfriend. Then she started boasting about your sister and her amazing profession and how she and her husband save lives every day. And you might have had enough of her bullshit and lied that you indeed have a stable job and relationship. None of which is true.

Bartending only pays the bills, and you haven't had a relationship in years and none of them were serious. You always ran away from any sort of commitment because you knew you would eventually have to introduce your partner to your family and nobody deserves to see that circus, and you told yourself that you're doing a favor to those previous partners by leaving them or as your friends like to call ghosting them. In your defense, dealing with you and your family is more horrific than any scary movie.

Well, until now because tomorrow your sister and her family are coming to meet your partner and take you back to your parents' place for the weekend. The only problem is that you lied to them about your job and your partner. The worst part is that both of them are pretty non-existent.

"Hey, How are you feeling? " Peter asked you, noticing how you still weren't paying attention to the customer in front of you.

“Great, not drunk, if that's what you're wondering.”

“I'm fine," you retorted, glancing at the concerned look Peter was giving you. You quickly took the customer's order and proceeded to make the drink.

"The last time you said you were fine, you threatened to kill a dude," Pietro interjected, enjoying the faux disbelief that landed on your face. You looked over to Wanda for help, but she just chuckled at her brother's antics.

The rest of the night at work went by as it usually did. Pietro making a sarcastic remark here and there, Wanda countering her brother with a snarky response, you were laughing your ass off watching the duo and Peter awkwardly tried to suppress his amusement. In a weird custom, these three coworkers were the only thing that felt normal.

By the time you were done, it was mostly you left like always, with the addition of security guards that James added since Rumlow. You wanted to talk to him, especially after the wonderful not date you had, but the situation with him was not under your control anymore and it released from your grasp which scared the shit out of you. If James and you had met under different circumstances, then you would have tried to date him, but with him being your boss and the whole Rumlow thing made everything so complicated, and you didn't have time for any sort of relationship complication in your life. At least that's what you kept telling yourself.

When you were done with your shift and were about to leave, a very familiar voice called for you. You've been trying to ignore him all day and just when you thought you've succeeded, he catches up to you.

The thing that scared you with James was that you felt safe, too safe with him. You were scared that you were going to become dependent on him for your security, and you hated that. You always despised women who weren't anything except their husband's wife, as if their whole identity was being a man's property. Furthermore, you knew the only thing to be blamed here was patriarchy and men, but you decided that you weren't going to be someone's property, you were going to be your own person.

And you rebelled a lot to reach here, dyed your hair blue just because your mom told you not to, pursued your dream just because your dad told you to follow a secure nine to four job, left ex-partners because they told you what to and what not to wear. And some part of you knew that James wasn't like that. He wouldn't exploit you and your weaknesses.

But what you didn't realize was that these were merely excuses that your brain mustered up because you were too scared to be dumped. A long time ago, you decided that it is better to leave than be left. And James — well, James made you feel things that you didn't want to chase. You feared commitment and abandonment too much to go after a guy.

Your thoughts were brought to a halt when he held your wrist gently and called your name again. Reluctantly, you turned around, pretending to be surprised as if you didn't see him.

He obviously caught on to you. "Why are you ignoring me?"

"What?" You scoffed in feign disbelief, taking your hand away from his grasp and setting it on his shoulder. "Why would I ignore you, bud?"

Bud? What the fuck? , both of you thought at the same time.

Carefully, he eyed your hand and then you, "Okay, come on, I'll drop you home."

"No, James, it's fine, I can go on my own."

"Yes, yes, you are an independent, strong woman but come on," He teased, but you didn't seem to pick up the glint of mischief in his eyes.

You heard that as a taunt, a taunt your father has told you an ample number of times, that you indeed can never be anything on your own if you don't have a man beside you. While you were lost in your thoughts, James was moving towards his car, assuming that you were following him.

"But I am," you argued.

Your voice sounded distant to him, he turned around and walked towards you. "You are what?"

"I am strong and independent."

"Yes, you are," he agreed as a matter of factly because it was the truth. He had never met someone so strong who would leave behind their whole life to pursue their dreams. He, being the mob boss, and filthy rich couldn't do the same, and he may not tell you this, but he admired you so much.

Once you got the assurance you needed, you started walking towards his car. "Are you coming or not?" and he followed you.

Of course, you knew you were strong, but your life had not been going as smoothly as you anticipated. You're stuck in writer's block, your family interference and lack of trust in you hurts like a bitch. You were somewhat crushing on your boss, and you blurted random embarrassing stuff in front of him without thinking. You know, normal crush things.

When you reached the apartment, he insisted on dropping you to your floor. The car ride was spent in peaceful silence, but the time spent in the elevator was everything but that. No, the fifteen seconds were spent in James fidgeting beside you because he wanted to say something but didn't know how to.

After you unlocked your door, he finally spoke up. "Um, I was just wondering whether, you know, - I had fun last night and I don't have smooth conversations with people - um, I don't know, I'd like to go out with you again," he didn't finish, but your eyebrows shot up to your forehead and he quickly backpedaled. " Not as a date, if that's what you want. It could be a meal shared between you and your boss. Not that I'm implying that you are obligated to go with me just because I'm your boss. I'm asking this as a stranger, well, not as a stranger but as a friend, I think."

"James,” you spoke softly, and he could feel the denial coming his way.” I had fun too, but you're my boss. This is highly unprofessional."

He signed in defeat and looked at you one last time. There was so much he wanted to say, he wanted to tell you that he enjoyed your company more than he should. He wanted to tell you that he liked you. He wanted to tell you that he wanted to see where this thing would lead with you, but he knew better than that. At the end of the day, you were his employee and if you were to get involved with him in any form, it would only end in your tarnished reputation. So, he nodded, not trusting himself enough to speak much after the clear rejection. "I understand."

"Y/N! “

Both of you turned towards the source of the voice and frowned. He frowned because he was confused, whereas you, oh, you weren't confused, you were furious at the person standing there and at yourself for forgetting about their arrival.

"Hi, Carol. I thought you were coming tomorrow," you stated, faking a smile, and everyone in the area could see your distressed attempt at looking excited.

Well, everyone except your sister because she shrieked with happiness and ran towards you to throw her arms around you. Her husband followed behind and gave you and James an awkward smile.

"I just couldn't wait to meet my baby sister and we'll take you guys back for the weekend."

You guys, James and you thought at the same time. James looked at the side of your face for an explanation, and you kept looking forward at your sister, avoiding his gaze.

Fuck, you forgot about that. How can you forget about that? You mentally cursed yourself and didn't say anything because you didn't know what to do.

Your sister picked your silence as her cue to talk and pointed her index finger at James, who was standing beside you now. "Is this him?"

Your sister looked at you, expecting an answer, your brother-in-law looked at you with something called, please hurry up, I just want to go back to the hotel. James looked at you with bewilderment.

You sighed and took your boss's hand in yours, who also happens to be the most dangerous person in the town. He complied, holding on to you tightly, running his thumb on the back of your hand in a soothing manner. It felt like the most obvious thing as if your hand was made to be held by him. The thought sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, but you were too stubborn to accept it.

"Yes," you finalized. "This is James, my boyfriend."

TAGS: @bananapipedreams @akkinda10 @rivers-rambles21 @emmabarnes @goodcleanfunsis @valsworldofcreativity @boofy1998 @marvel-3407 @priii

#mobster bucky #mob bucky #mob!bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky #bucky barnes series #bucky barns fanfiction #mob!bucky x reader #mobbucky x reader

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sam-and-buck · 4 years ago

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At Home With Captain America

Fandom: MCU

Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes

Rating: G

Words: 7.7k

Also on AO3

“What can you tell me about how you got to know the Winter Soldier?”

Wilson chuckles. “The first time I met Buck—Sergeant Barnes—he ripped the steering wheel out of the car I was driving on the freeway. He got on the roof, punched through the windshield, pulled the steering wheel off. Just like that.” He mimes with his hands as he describes it.

This doesn’t sound like an auspicious beginning to me, but Wilson is laughing.

At Home with Captain America

By: Adrien Davis

Published: February 2, 2026, 3:35 PM

To say I’m intimidated by interviewing Captain America in his own home would be an understatement, and I would never have thought to ask if I could do that if he hadn’t personally invited me. Normally, I’d start one of these articles by describing the location, maybe even throw in an anecdote or two about how I got there, but that’s not going to be possible here.

Sam Wilson lives on [REDACTED] in [REDACTED]. It was a windy day.

Here’s what I can tell you: it’s an apartment. A nice one. Two bedroom, two bath.

“Am I allowed to describe the inside of your house?” is one of the first things I say to him, after getting his permission to turn on my recorder.

“Go right ahead,” he laughs, arms crossed over the worn USAF logo on his gray t-shirt. “Just don’t put the street name in there or anything.”

Wilson gives me a moment to poke around. Whoever decorated this place has good taste; it’s no haphazard bachelor pad. There’s an exposed brick wall in the otherwise slate blue living room, several plants (which I assume are fakes—albeit convincing ones—since Wilson is, by his own admission, not home as often as he’d like to be), a sturdy walnut coffee table, and a magnificently squishy-looking red couch.

It’s unmistakably lived in, though. I don’t get the sense that the place has been scrubbed spotless or particularly arranged for my visit. There are two abandoned mugs on coasters sitting on the coffee table, along with several different remote controls, and a stack of half-finished books with dog-eared corners. A pile of mail has been pushed to the side. Next to the door, a wall-mounted coat rack holds several leather jackets in shades of brown and black, and at least as many sweaters, mostly navy blue, charcoal and maroon. The shoe rack underneath houses multiple pairs of black combat boots, worn running shoes, house slippers. And next to that, on the floor, a large, gleaming silver case with red detail that could only contain Wilson’s Falcon wingpack. The legendary shield is propped up against it, ready to go at a moment’s notice.

I’m trying to imagine how it would be to leave the house for him. Got my keys, wings, phone, shield, wallet?

There are pictures on the walls and the mantle above the fireplace, under the television. People who I can only assume are Wilson’s relatives by their similarly gap-toothed smiles. Veterans. Wilson in full air force gear next to a blond man I don’t recognize. Then Captain Steve Rogers, in the 1940s with the Howling Commandos, and in the twenty-first century by himself. Wilson with Rogers, and Natasha Romanoff. One conspicuously empty nail where a large frame would clearly fit.

Scattered among these are several very old, dour black and white photographs of a dark-haired family. The first shows a mother, father and two small children, a boy and girl. The second is the mother and children only, taken some time after, judging by their apparent ages. The third is several years later still; the same children with light eyes and dark hair, but they’re teeangers now, and without parents. They look haunting and out-of-place among the glossy prints of Wilson’s big, happy family in matching 80s colorblocked tracksuits, or Wilson and his sisters in front of a Christmas tree, surrounded by wrapping paper and toys.

There’s also a wood-framed painting that stands out: an idyllic watercolor of a little farmhouse with a green roof and shuttered windows in a field. A small pile of lumber and a white mailbox make up the foreground. The most distinctive feature is the signature at the bottom: S.G.R. I know those initials.

“Captain Rogers painted this?”

“Uh huh,” Wilson nods fondly, hands now in his pockets. “Man of many talents. Maybe every talent. Having a hard time thinking of anything he wasn’t good at.”

I hear the unstated in that. A tough act to follow.

I think, for purposes of journalistic integrity, I should probably insert my bias before we go any further. We had never met before this interview, but I am and have always been enormously supportive of Captain Wilson and the work he’s done, and have written myriad articles and think pieces about him over the past several years. He’s shown himself time and again to be a man of unshakable integrity and endless emotional intelligence, and frankly, I’m more worried about the poor sucker who’s going to have to follow Wilson. Rogers did a lot of great things, but among the best of them was choosing a successor.

I tell him as much and he smiles, looking down at his shoes.

“Yeah, I know that’s how you feel,” he says. “I requested you for this piece, actually, because of that. People are going to accuse me of wanting a softball interview here, and maybe they’re right. For this one, I think that’s what I need.”

I’m not sure what he means by that, but he continues before I can ask.

“We should probably do this in the kitchen.” Wilson indicates behind us with his thumb, after I’ve stood silently in his living room for probably way too long. “That couch is too comfortable. I end up falling asleep every time I sit on it.”

The kitchen is, perhaps, a little cramped. There’s a large, dark marble-topped kitchen island that just fits in the center of the room with four bar stools tucked under it. The cabinets are tall, with glass doors showcasing a massive collection of healthy, but non-perishable food. The shelf nearest us holds several well-used bags of pantry supplies: chickpea flour, arrowroot starch, raw sugar. There’s a pasta shelf above it, but no Kraft Mac in sight; everything is lentil-based, chickpea-based, black bean-based.

“Have a seat,” Wilson says, inclining his head towards one of the barstools. “Can I get you something to drink?” He opens the refrigerator.

“We have…” he pauses. “Water. Sorry, just got back from Ecuador this morning. Sparkling or still?”

I accept a glass of still water from Captain America. He sits down on the stool next to mine.

His house, or what I’ve seen of it, is homey in a way I can’t imagine any of the late Tony Stark’s buildings ever were, and I mention this.

“I lived at the Avengers Tower briefly,” Wilson tells me. “Tony liked everything streamlined, really modern. Kinda sparse for my taste. I needed some real furniture when I got out of there, you know? Like, things that were made by human beings. Stuff with ‘character,’ that’s what Steve would call it.”

“So you decorated this place?”

“I think it’s about fifty-fifty,” Wilson says, indicated with vague hand motion.

This is my in.

This interview, as you may have read on the cover description, is actually intended to be an exposé about the working partnership between Wilson and Sergeant James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, but I didn’t want to be the one who brought him up first.

All I knew going in is that they’re a package deal in the field, a unit. We’ve all seen the footage.

Also, Barnes lives here too, but evidently, he’s not home.

“What can you tell me about how you got to know the Winter Soldier?”

This doesn’t sound like an auspicious beginning to me, but Wilson is laughing.

“I hope he apologized to you for that,” I tell him, because I’m not exactly sure how else to respond.

“Oh yeah, of course he did, even though he knows I don’t blame him for it. He doesn’t remember it at all,” says Wilson. “There are a lot of gaps, to be honest. Most of it is gaps.”

What Wilson is likely referring to here is the decades-long period in which Barnes was under the complete mental and physical influence of the Nazi splinter group known as HYDRA. If you’re unfamiliar with the history of Sergeant Barnes, I’ll list a couple of great articles for you to read at the end of this one. I assure you, it’s worth your time.

Wilson has without a doubt been Barnes’s most ardent supporter. He’s spoken out many times about not judging Barnes based on the actions he couldn’t control, and has masterfully refocused the national conversation towards Barnes’s invaluable contributions in World War II and in the recent war to bring half the universe’s population back into existence. Wilson has been quoted as saying, “The least extraordinary thing about Sergeant Barnes is his vibranium arm.”*

But perhaps Wilson’s most effective act towards building public confidence in Barnes was his decision to designate him as an almost exclusive mission partner. Even if the general populace has been reluctant to trust the Winter Soldier, it is abundantly clear that Captain America does, absolutely. Barnes is a constant in the footage of Wilson’s exploits. The moment he touches down on the ground after a successful arrest or negotiation, Barnes is right there. He’s been sighted treating Wilson’s minor injuries, tightening straps on the Falcon wingsuit before Wilson takes flight, and he stands quietly behind Wilson during almost all of his many public appearances.

Despite his ubiquitous presence in Wilson’s company, Barnes has remained elusive for comment. He has no social media, and the only public statement he’s made to date was in November of 2023, in support of Rogers’s decision to pass on the legacy of Captain America. Barnes expressed his categorical agreement that Wilson is “the best and only choice for this job,” describing him as both “worthy of the honor,” and “equipped for the burden.”**

“Is it fair to say that Sergeant Barnes almost comes with the shield?” I ask.

Wilson makes a face.

“No, it isn’t,” he shakes his head. “The shield is an accessory; my partner is not. I really don’t like it when people lump him in with the shield. It sort of minimizes how Bucky and I have made a series of conscious choices to be the way we are now. Especially because he’s experienced being fully stripped of his personal autonomy—as a veteran, I can say I’ve had a taste of that, but nothing like what he’s been through—and I think it cheapens his choice to do what he does if we imply that he, as a person, is a package deal with my title, you know?”

The therapist in Wilson is showing. In addition to his decorated military history and service as Captain America, he has a background in psychology, and a Masters degree in Social Work with a focus on Veterans’ mental health issues. He’s worked extensively with the VA as a leader in group therapy.

“So Sergeant Barnes is by your side day in and day out because he wants to be?”

This, Wilson has another unequivocal answer for. “Yes. He wants to be there, and I want him there. And here at home.”

“Tell me a little more about that,” I say. “After the...steering-wheel-stealing incident. Once he was more or less himself. Did you two hit it off right away?”

Wilson laughs again. “Not at all,” he says. “I think there was this resentment, kind of, in the beginning. Like I’m Steve’s best friend and no, I’m Steve’s best friend. Real elementary school stuff. He really got on my nerves; just everything about him annoyed me, and the feeling was mutual. Looking back…”

And here Wilson pauses for a moment. He chews on his bottom lip, and I notice all at once how nervous his body language has become. His fingers are drumming on the table, the line of his shoulders is taut, his leg is bouncing. He clears his throat though, and seems determined to continue.

“Looking back, I can see where it was coming from. It wasn’t clear to me at the time, but now I get it. There was this one time, it was during the fight over the Accords. We barely knew each other at this point. Buck and I, we’re fighting Spider-Man—who neither of us had ever even heard of before, like, that afternoon—and he pins us to the floor of this hangar with that goo he shoots out of his wrist. Really gross. I manage to get Redwing [Wilson’s drone] to fling Spider-Man out the window. So we’re just laying there, me and Bucky, stuck. And he goes ‘you couldn’t have done that before?’ And I just turn to him, and I’m like, ‘I hate you.’”

At this, Wilson really starts cracking up. He relaxes visibly, just a little.

“Did you mean it?”

“I sure thought I did,” he says, still chuckling. “Like, I wasn’t about to take it back.”

He continues: “Anyway, so after Steve, you know, passed on the shield to me, that’s when things really changed. Actually, back up a second. After the whole Accords incident, we ended up sending Bucky to Wakanda for like… to hear him describe it, it’s like we sent him for a two-year spa retreat. They unscrambled his brain as best they could—and really, I think it’s a good thing they couldn’t do any more because I wouldn’t wish some of his memories on my worst enemy—and he spent like months meditating in a hut and milking goats and going to therapy every day. When I met up with him again, I barely would’ve recognized him.”

“So that’s kind of when you guys reconciled? The arguing stopped?”

“Oh, it never stopped,” Wilson says with a grin. “We still argue all the time, about all kinds of things. Just ask Rhodey [Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes, aka War Machine] or Scott [Lang, Ant-Man] or anybody. But the dynamic shifted a little, I think. Bucky’s got… Like I can’t imagine some of the stuff he’s been through, but he’s just kind of learned to roll with it. He is hands down the most resilient person I have ever met. Easily. It was real hard to keep hating him when he was so dead set on getting me to like him, too.”

“Can you walk me through the process by which you two decided to live together?”

“Yeah,” he says, and the nervousness is back. He smooths his hands on his thighs over his jeans. “So, basically, once I got the shield, we’d just barely come back. Like everyone else who got… I—I still don’t know if this is like an okay question to ask people. Do you mind me asking if you were dusted?”

I don’t mind. “Yeah, I was.”

“So you get it,” Wilson says. “Might be the most vulnerable I’d ever felt. I got nothing. Nowhere to go, just the clothes on my back. Then Steve hands me this shield and this enormous legacy—and I look back and there’s Bucky, standing a couple of yards behind me, nodding like, yeah, it should be you. He was the first person who knew, and he’s been right by my side ever since.”

“So you decided to stick together?”

“The original conversation about it was pretty logistical,” Wilson says, rubbing his beard. “There was so much going on, it’s hard to remember exactly what was said, but I think it was along the lines of him offering to fetch the shield for me while I learned how to throw it, and stuff like that. Just easier to do when we’re together 24/7.”

“So rooming together didn’t actually grow out of field partnerships?”

“It was definitely the other way around,” says Wilson. “Basically, I’d get a call from the powers that be that there was something I had to go check out, and it was easier to just walk across the hall than to pick someone else, try to wake them up, and then have to rendez-vous and strategize.”

“I’ll bet,” I say.

Wilson nods. “Easier and faster. Bucky can go from dead asleep to fully geared up in under three minutes. The first few times were like that, with me just knocking on his bedroom door like ‘hey, I need—’ and he comes barreling out covered in knives thirty seconds later like, ‘where are we going?’ We just… clicked. And I’ll be honest; I was really surprised. He’s got my six, I’ve got his, and I never question it. I started asking for him specifically on all my assignments after that, and Fury [Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.] and everyone caught on quick that that’s how it was gonna be. I don’t have to ask anymore.”

“Do you see this continuing long term?” I ask.

Wilson doesn’t hesitate. “Definitely.”

“How would you describe your relationship with Sergeant Barnes now?” I ask. “Clearly you’re partners in the field, and roommates, but…”

Wilson takes a deep breath. His hands are shaking, but he clasps them together in front of him and looks me straight in the eye.

“As of last month,” he says slowly, “Bucky and I are married.”

In the spirit of my interview with Captain America, who stands for honesty and justice and integrity, I think you deserve to know the truth. I want to say that I didn’t drop my recorder, but I did. It clatters to the floor, luckily undamaged.

That startles Wilson into a laugh. For the second it takes me to retrieve my recorder from under my seat, I wonder if he’s kidding.

“Come on,” he says. “Say something. I’m getting nervous.” He’s smiling, but not joking.

“Congratulations,” I blurt out. “I...really?”

“Yeah.” The tension leaves his body in a rush. “We, uh, it’s official.”

I’m struggling for questions at this point. The talking points I was planning on hitting in this interview are all suddenly moot, and I decide to throw out my mental to-do list entirely. I finally settle on, “How long have you two been together?”

“A little over two years,” Wilson answers. “About three months after I took up the shield.”

“How did it happen?”

Wilson grins. “Uh, well. I had sort of been…having feelings about him, you know, for awhile. Actually, it’s more like I had noticed that I was having more-than-friendly feelings in the few weeks leading up to that. I think the main reason we had so much trouble getting along in the beginning is that it took some time to process those feelings as attraction. So in a way, I was interested on some level right from the get go.”

“Even if that person wasn’t...behind the wheel of their own brain, so to speak—” I start, but Wilson interjects.

“I see what you did there.”

“—I think it would take a lot for me to be attracted to someone who had previously tried to kill me.”

“Less than I would’ve expected, that’s for sure,” Wilson says. “But it’s not like I was checking him out while he was busy tearing my wings off my back; I’m talking about once he was mentally present in his body. That was like...two years after the whole steering wheel incident, and I hadn’t seen him at all in the interim. I didn’t even know where he was during that time.”

“So it had at least been awhile since he had tried to kill you?”

“Oh yeah. And plenty of other people tried to kill me in those two years, and they weren’t even sorry about it. You gotta adjust your standards, you know?” he says with a laugh.

“Anyway, if you ask him, he says he’s been all in since the moment he saw me back in Wakanda after his little vacation. Now we’re talking about four years since the steering wheel thing. Me, Steve, Nat and everybody; we landed in Wakanda and Bucky’s there. He and I look at each other over Steve’s shoulder, and like, bam, that was it for him.

“And then there’s five years where neither of us exist. We get back, we fight the monsters, Steve gives me the shield, and while all this is happening, apparently Bucky has come to the conclusion that he’s in love with me. After that, he was just waiting for me to catch up.”

“And he just knew you’d get there? Did you give him any indication that you were interested, or…?”

“I definitely did, but not intentionally,” says Wilson. “He’s very perceptive—like way more than I was giving him credit for—but I think it’s a combination of that and me not being as subtle as I think I am.

“Because, see there’s this invisible line I’ve drawn here—at least that’s how he was thinking about it—and I keep dancing a little closer to that line every day, the line being the no homo line; the point where you can’t take it back. The flirting, I mean. I, of course, think he has no clue and that I’m being slick about it. Actually, lemme ask—how much detail are you looking for here? Like do you want to know the whole story or just—”

“Lay it on me,” I tell him. “Just however you want to tell it.”

“Alright. Where was I? So I’m just there going back and forth on whether or not it’s a good idea to risk this roommate-partner-buddy thing we’ve got going here by trying to make a move that, frankly, I have no clue if he’s gonna be receptive to. You have to remember we’re talking about a guy from the Great Depression here, like that’s the time period he grew up in. I’m no historian, but I think it’s common knowledge that if you were a man who was attracted to men back then, you mostly kept that to yourself. The chances of him bringing up his sexual orientation unprompted are very low. And like, I’m 90% sure I’ve caught him looking before, but that’s never a guarantee, you know?

“So, instead of sitting down and having a mature conversation about my feelings, I keep doing this thing where, for example, say he’s trying something new with his hair, and I’ll say something nice about it. And then I follow up immediately with, ‘Almost makes up for your ugly mug,’ or whatever, which—I mean, he’s such a good-looking guy, like what ugly mug, obviously I don’t mean that. And he’s not stupid, he knows what he looks like. So he picks up on what I’m doing, doesn’t say anything, and lets this go on for months.

“Eventually, there’s one night… We’re on the couch, watching like, I don’t know, Seinfeld or something. Whatever was on. He’s reading a book on my tablet, looking all relaxed and handsome. I can’t have that, so I start egging him on like I usually do, and I guess I got close enough to the line that he just puts the tablet down, turns to me and says, ‘Sam, you know there’s no line, right?’

“And I’m going, okay, what does that mean? Like, is this a conversation I was previously a part of and forgot or...? Where is this ‘line’ thing coming from? And so I ask him—I think I just said, ‘What?’ At that point he looks me right in the eye, and he goes, ‘You can kiss me if you want to.’” So I did, and he was ready for it, like no hesitation. Like I said: waiting for me to catch up.”

This, as you can imagine, is far beyond the level of detail I could have ever imagined I’d get about Captain America’s love life in my wildest dreams. I decide to ask a new question, because I feel like I’d be pushing my luck to delve further when he’s already been so open about this experience.

“Who proposed and when?”

“Ooh,” says Wilson, “I guess technically I did, but I’m gonna go on record saying that one was a group effort.”

“Well, now you’re gonna have to explain that,” I tell him. “What’s a ‘group effort’ proposal look like?”

“Hmm. I backed myself into that one, didn’t I?” he says. “First, I want the record to show that before I called you guys to set up this interview, I specifically asked Bucky if there were any us-related topics or whatever that were off-limits to discuss and he said ‘No,’ and I said, ‘Are you sure?’ and he said ‘Yes, I’m sure,’ and I said, “You better be sure, because whatever I say is gonna be public knowledge after that,” and he said “I know, I get it, Jesus.” Then I dropped it because he sounded like he was getting kinda irritated. If he didn’t want me to tell you any of this stuff, that would’ve been the time to speak up, so here we go:

“We were at… Well, I can’t tell you exactly where we were, but let’s just say we were working. There was nobody else in the room, but we were getting ready to go out in the field; seemed like it was gonna be a pretty...intense situation out there. I had my whole suit on, he was calibrating his arm, and the conversation ended up at living wills. As you can imagine, that’s an important thing to have when you’re in this line of work. So he proceeded to tell me that the last time he’d updated his was never and that his next-of-kin was nobody. And I was like, ‘So what, your grenade launchers are all gonna go to the state? I don’t even get the red one?’ and I’m just giving him a hard time, you know, and he’s like, ‘Sam.’

“And then, my god, he just goes all the way off about how much he loves me and trusts me and I—we don’t usually go there. I mean, we’d been on the same page for a long time as far as, we’ve established that we’re in love, this relationship is going well, but it’s not something that we’d verbalized in any real depth. That’s just a level of like, exposure, vulnerability, I think, that doesn’t come naturally to most people, myself included.

“So he just keeps talking—and I think it’s fair to say he’s not a very talkative guy most of the time—and I’m standing there with my jaw on the floor because he is not holding back, and this is all clearly unrehearsed. Like, this is just how he really feels about me, apparently. By the time he’s finished, I’m crying, he’s crying, it’s a mess. And so I open my mouth, and I have no idea what I’m gonna say to all that, but what comes out is, “Will you marry me?” I wasn’t planning on it, but suddenly I just knew. Best decision I ever made.”

“And you’ve made some very important decisions in your life.”

“That’s right. I know which ones I’m leaving out by saying this was the best, and I stand by it.”

At that moment, as if on cue, the lock clicks, and Sergeant Barnes walks through the front door carrying two very full bags of groceries on his vibranium arm. He tosses a set of car keys into a little dish and locks the door behind him.

“Hey, babe,” Wilson calls out, catching his eye.

“You did it?” Barnes asks.

“Yeah.” Wilson tilts his head up.

Barnes rounds the corner, pecks Wilson on the lips with all the comfort and familiarity of a couple who have done it a thousand times. I hear him murmur, “Proud of you,” under his breath.

Barnes sets the groceries on the counter in front of me as Wilson introduces us.

“Call me Bucky,” says Barnes, reaching out with his right hand to shake mine. There’s a silver band on the fourth finger, and when I look back over at Wilson, he’s slipping his wedding ring out of the pocket of his jeans and putting it back on his left hand.

“Wasn’t sure if I’d be able to go through with all this,” he says, gesturing to me and my notepad. “I took the wedding pictures down in the living room too, before you got here.”

“I knew he could do it,” Barnes tells me. His voice is low, soft, and so quiet, a hint of an old Brooklyn accent underlying his words even now, despite everything he’s been through and everywhere he’s been. He shrugs out of his nondescript hoodie and tosses it on one of the unused stools, grabbing a kettle and putting it on the stove.

“Hibiscus or chamomile?” he asks me, pulling two boxes of tea bags from one of the grocery bags and letting me choose before turning to Wilson. “Bad news, hon. They were out of your whole wheat pita.”

“Again?” says Wilson, with feeling. “Really?”

“They only had the gluten free. I guess I could check the other store tonight, but it’s supposed to rain later, and I kinda don’t feel like going out again,” Barnes says, head buried in the cupboard as he stacks cans. “I was thinking maybe I could just try making ‘em. How does that sound? How hard can it be, right?”

“‘How does homemade pita sound,’ he says,” Wilson repeats, jabbing a thumb towards Barnes. “Can you believe this guy?”

“I honestly can’t.” It’s the truth. My brain refuses to reconcile this man with the supposed playboy I read about in my 11th grade history textbook, nor the internationally feared assassin.

“Is that a yes or no on the experimental homemade pita?” Barnes asks Wilson, still deep in the cupboard. “No promises on quality.”

“That’s a yes, Buck,” says Wilson, then he turns to me. “Don’t listen to him; he’s a great cook.”

The Winter Soldier is a great cook, I write in my notes. And then I realize this is my moment to shine.

“I actually know a good recipe for homemade pita,” I tell them. “It’s whole wheat.” That gets Barnes’s attention.

“You do?” he says, pulling out his phone. “Can you send it to—hmm.” He frowns. “Sam, it’s not showing the thing.”

“What thing?” Wilson asks, taking Barnes’s phone from his hand. “Oh, yeah, that’s cause it’s set to Contacts Only, Buck, you have to switch it to Allow Everyone.”

Wilson looks at me, smiling. “Bucky here hates technology—”

“—I don’t hate technology—”

“Oh yes you do, you won’t even let me get you an iPad—”

“Yeah, for what? What do I need it for? I wouldn’t even use—”

“You wouldn’t use one, huh? How about I stop letting you borrow mine for a couple of weeks, then we’ll see how you feel.” Wilson turns to me, passing Barnes’s phone back to him. “He should be showing up on your AirDrop now.”

Sure enough, I’m able to send the recipe link to Bucky’s iPhone. He thanks me and starts scrolling right through it, argument apparently totally forgotten.

As Barnes continues to read, periodically checking on the kettle; Wilson excuses himself to help put away the rest of the groceries, which are mostly produce.

“I hope you have like, immediate plans for these,” Wilson says, inspecting the avocados as he pulls them out of the paper bag. “They are ripe, man. Tomorrow’s gonna be too late for them.”

“Yeah I do, I was gonna make grilled chicken and avocado sandwiches for dinner,” Barnes replies. “I got tomatoes, swiss cheese—”

“What’s all this about pita then if we’re having sandwiches?” Wilson asks.

“No, the pita is the bread here,” Barnes explains. “You stuff everything in the pocket. I’m gonna have to get started pretty soon; probably gonna double the rising time since it’s cold out.” Wilson hums in apparent approval of this course of action.

I lose Wilson to the refrigerator for several minutes. He stands back up after arranging things in the crisper to his liking.

“Any chance I could get a peek at those wedding pictures?” I ask.

“Oh,” says Wilson. “That okay with you?” He turns to Barnes, who nods, carefully steeping bags of tea in three steaming mugs, and then leads me back to the living room.

Wilson has stashed two silver-framed pictures in a drawer of the coffee table, apparently in anticipation of my visit, and he pulls them out to show to me. Both are taken in front of a familiar-looking farmhouse, which I struggle with for a moment before placing it as the exact one in Captain Rogers’s watercolor painting that’s hanging to my left. Wilson’s suit in the photo is a matte but brilliant shade of cobalt; Barnes wears black.

One is of just the two of them, arms around one another and foreheads together. It’s almost too intimate to look at; I feel as though I’m intruding on something intensely private, even though Wilson is standing right here offering me a glimpse of it.

He puts that one back up onto the mantle.

The next is them in the center of a large group that consists of some people I recognize and others I don’t. Familiar faces include Dr. Bruce Banner [The Hulk], Clint Barton [Hawkeye], and Maria Hill [Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.]. Also present: King T’Challa of Wakanda and his sister, Princess Shuri. There’s a young girl in a white dress, carrying a flower basket and missing a front tooth, standing in front of [C.E.O. of Stark Industries] Pepper Potts. Next to them is a teenager with floppy brown hair doing an indescribably awkward double thumbs up.

“Who’s that?” I ask, pointing at him.

Wilson snorts. “Some punk. Family friend.”

That picture gets hung on the empty nail next to Captain Rogers’s painting.

Barnes knocks quietly on the doorway behind us. “Tea’s ready.”

An awkward silence settles in with us once we sit back down in the kitchen, Wilson and Barnes next to one another, and me across from them. I flip through my notes, taking a sip from my mug.. My drink is sweeter than I was expecting, because apparently the Winter Soldier has added agave to the hibiscus tea he made me. It’s delicious.

Barnes eventually breaks. “So whatcha go over so far?”

“How we got together, how we got engaged,” Wilson answers him. “In detail too, so if you don’t want that published, you’re gonna have to grovel at the journalist yourself, because you said—”

“Oh my god,” says Barnes, old-school New York sarcasm dripping from every word. “How dare you tell people about the best thing I ever did, huh? Now they’re gonna think I’m like, a sensitive, good guy, and here I’ve been coasting along on this murder cyborg image. What have you done, you dick?”

Wilson rolls his eyes.

“So...you’re okay with it?” I ask them, absolutely ready to scrub the record if he hesitates.

“You kidding me?” says Barnes. “Every other week comes up some new atrocity I committed against my will in like...the 70s, and you think I’m gonna be upset with people knowing that once in a while I say nice shit to someone I love? Write it. Please. Knock yourself out.”

Okay then. Since Barnes seems willing to talk, I ask them if I can throw them a few questions I have for them as a couple. Barnes looks as though he wasn’t anticipating this.

Wilson turns to him. “You wanna be here for this?”

Barnes nods slowly, hesitantly, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“You’re okay?” Wilson asks. “You decide you’re done at any point and I’ll end it. Or you can go hang out in the other room, your call.”

“I’m good for now,” Barnes decides. “I’ll let you know if that changes.”

“You can ask whatever you want,” Wilson says to me. “I can’t promise we’ll answer everything, but go ahead and shoot.”

“I guess the first question I have is: what’s the hardest thing about navigating your jobs as a couple? What bothers you the most about that?”

Wilson exhales loudly. “I mean, the obvious answer is the danger,” he says. “The nature of what we do is fundamentally unsafe. I think it goes without saying—I’ll still say it—that we’re always aware that one of us might not make it back from a mission, which is...” Wilson trails off for a moment, shaking his head. “You don’t get used to that feeling. The fear.”

“Mm hmm,” Barnes agrees, from behind his mug.

“And,” continues Wilson, “I’m also aware that by doing this interview, I’m putting Bucky in additional danger. I’m not naive enough to think that the people working against us won’t try to use my relationship with him as leverage against me.”

“That makes sense,” I say, because he’s absolutely right, and pretending that public knowledge of his marriage doesn’t put them both in a new kind of danger seems disingenuous. I face Barnes. “Your turn.”

“Racist assholes,” says Barnes immediately.

Wilson smirks and cocks his head in agreement. “Sometimes I think I’ve talked that subject to death, other times it’s like I could never hope to address it enough. Today feels like the first one.”

A diplomatic, but clear answer. Time to move on.

I’m about to ask the next question when he adds: “Another thing that gets under my skin is how it’s like Bucky’s image in the eyes of the general public is totally dependent on me hyping him up all the time. As far as I’m concerned, he’s proven himself a hundred times over, and yet if I’m not on T.V. reminding people of that every day, it’s suddenly like ‘oh, the Winter Soldier, can we ever really trust him?’

“I just… It bothers me. I want us to come to a collective understanding that everything that happened happened to Bucky, not because of him. It kinda circles back into another of the things I’m passionate about, which is mental health care and awareness. I think if we as a society were better about recognizing and addressing mental illness, and particularly Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, I wouldn’t have to keep having this conversation about my husband.”

Barnes’s face is getting pinker and he says nothing, but he’s smiling a little at Wilson, who puts an arm around his shoulders.

“Anyway, we can move on,” says Wilson, his expression going easy again. “Just had to get that out there one more time.”

“Hopefully this one’s a little more pleasant,” I say. “What inspired you to come forward about your relationship? I know you guys—” I gesture between them, ”—have been together for a couple years, so why now?”

“I want to go on a date in public,” says Bucky. “I haven’t been on a date since the 40s.”

“That’s right,” says Wilson. “We’re doing all this so I can take him Denny’s and hold his hand over a $6.99 Super Slam.”

When I finish laughing, Wilson continues. “Part of it’s because we realized it’s gonna get out there whether we like it or not. You already knew when you got here that we lived together, and that’s because that information got leaked to the public last week, so it was always just a matter of time before people found out anyway. I’d rather have some control over that narrative; better you hear it from me and Bucky, how we want to tell it, than in some tabloid.”

He’s right about that: they would undoubtedly have been outed one way or another. Their status as “roommates” was reported by TMZ a week and a half ago, and there was a Buzzfeed piece only yesterday, rife with gifs, entitled 15 Times Captain America and The Winter Soldier Made Us Wish We Were Their Third Roommate, that ended on the note of how Wilson and Barnes are “absolute BFF GOALS.” Wilson continues:

“But I think the biggest reason is that we decided, together, that we actually think it’s good for people to know. I’ve seen firsthand the impact that having a Black Captain America has had on the Black community and on the national topic of race, and we think—we hope—that a Captain America who is a member of the LGBT community will have a similar effect.

“The people who already hate me aren’t going to like me any better or worse for being bisexual, but some bisexual teenager out there is hopefully gonna read this article and feel a little bit better about themselves than they did before. That’s really the impact I want to have here. Got anything to add, Buck?”

“Actually, yeah,” says Barnes, staring at the counter in front of him and fiddling with his wedding ring. “I grew up gay in thirties. The idea of being able to just...tell people, that’s still amazing to me. The fact that I’m sitting here talking about it with a stranger and you’re not screamin’ in my face right now…”

“You do know I’m not straight either, right?” I ask him. I’m not exactly shy about that, it’s the kind of thing most people can tell just by looking at me.

“Even so,” says Barnes, finally looking me in the eye. “You fool around with a fella back in the day—or worse, you make a pass and he turns you down—then he knows about you, and then it’s like, what if he tells someone? Some of the worst shit I ever saw came from people who found out that way. So, other gay guys. Basically you never felt safe.”

“What about Captain Rogers?” I ask. “Did he know?”

“Oh yeah, Steve knew,” says Barnes with a dismissive wave of his hand, like that ought to be obvious. “He wasn’t gonna tell anyone; I got too much dirt on him.“

“Pfft. He’s messing with you,” Wilson interjects, directed at me. “There’s no dirt on Steve anywhere; believe me, I’d know by now if there was.”

“I want you to guess how many times I’ve had to clean up Steve’s puke,” says Barnes in a total deadpan, leaning forward. “Whatever number you think it is, the real answer is higher.

“This again,” says Wilson. “I keep telling you Buck, Steve throwing up on you at Coney Island isn’t the big scandalous story you seem to want it to be.”

“Sam wasn’t there, he didn’t see it,” Barnes insists. “We were with these girls and they just left us standing there by the Cyclone, covered in hot dog chunks. Actually, that part was kind of a relief ‘cause one of ‘em was definitely jonesing for me to kiss her before that, and I really didn’t want to.

“But seriously, after everything we went through together, I knew I could trust Steve with anything. And that made me luckier than most—at least I had one person. Lots of guys had no one.

“Anyway, my reasons for coming out with all this are probably more selfish than Sam’s. You know some of those Nazis—we’re callin’ ‘em something else these days, like ‘alt-right’ or whatever, but I know a Nazi when I see one—they have this crazy idea of what I was like back in the day. They’ve got this fantasy, like a golem of toxic masculinity with my face on it, and I just want to publicly shit on their dreams. Every date I ever went on with a girl was a total sham, and I was scared down to my bones that someone would figure that out. I fight because someone needs to and I’m good at it, but I hate hurting people and I’d much rather be sitting here cuddling on the couch with a man. This man.”

Barnes is grinning big and wide by the time he finishes—a real, genuine smile that brings out the sparkle in his eyes—and suddenly I feel like I’m catching a glimpse of what Wilson must be seeing in him. Wilson himself is laughing.

“I like how you snuck your little buzzword in there, baby,” he says. “Toxic masculinity. That’s one of Bucky’s things he learned about from his Wakandan therapist.

“Obviously super important,” Wilson adds, lest I think he’s making light of something serious.

“I think it’s great that we’re talking about it so openly now, especially with respect to the military.”

Barnes tilts his head in agreement, checking the time on his phone. We’re probably approaching the point at which he wants to get started on that pita bread, and I’m definitely in his way.

“So what’s next for you guys?” I ask.

“Isn’t that always the question?” Wilson asks, taking Barnes’s right hand in his left and resting them, intertwined, on the countertop. “Sometimes it’s aliens. Sometimes not. Who even knows anymore?”

“Hopefully, a whole lot more of this,” says Barnes, looking down at their hands.

Wilson smiles. “Well, that’s a given. That’s always.”

This is when Barnes gets up to pull a stand mixer out of one of the cupboards, and I read that as my cue to take my leave. I end my recording, Wilson thanks me for stopping by, I promise to give him an advance copy of my writing to make sure he’s comfortable with what I said, and I find myself standing back on the sidewalk of [REDACTED] moments later.

I’m not typically in the habit of including as many details about the dinner plans of my article subjects as I have here—and I’m certainly testing the limits of my editor’s patience with the word count—but in the spirit of Wilson’s wishes for what his coming out story will mean to the people of America, I wanted to emphasize how human his marriage is.

Barnes and Wilson have extraordinary jobs that they are undoubtedly uniquely suited for and that most of us will never fully understand, but they are also two people who have been through a lot of hardship and found happiness and peace in one another. And that’s something that most of us do understand: love, the human experience that transcends the divisions we give ourselves.

*From a press conference Wilson gave on May 7, 2025.

**From a statement written by Barnes and issued through a S.H.I.E.L.D. representative on November 1, 2023.

For further reading on Barnes, the author recommends:

1. Greatest Generation X: The Impossible Life of James Buchanan Barnes, by Ariel Guzman, published in 2025.

2. R.Y. Uhlencott’s column “The Wolf of Brooklyn” in the October 2024 issue of Time covers the basic timeline and trajectory of Barnes’s life.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #winterfalcon #mcu #marvel #tfatws #sam(antha) tag #my fanfic tag #fanfic

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gingyboo · 4 years ago

Text

Mirror Mirror

A/N: Again many thanks to @booglebug

Description- Soulmates existed. People knew that much. Soulmates were rare, a handful in each generation, an unexplainable phenomenon that formed a bond closer than blood and more sacred than marriage.

Bucky finds his soulmate when he needs her most. Little does he know how much she needs him too.

(Soulmate au that slots pretty much in to the MCU but with soulmates. Set after TFATWS.)

Pairing- Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings- Mentions of violence and guns, but its mostly fluff, drama and angst.

This is a multi chaptered fic.

Please like, comment, reblog!

prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

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Chapter 6

The journey to Wakanda passed quietly, Sam and Torres sat in the cockpit whilst Nancy dozed against Bucky’s shoulder. It had been a long 24hrs and the few hours of rest on her sofa hadn’t curbed her exhaustion. She remembered what her doctor had told her about taking things easy, well she certainly hadn’t been doing that, these past few months she’d felt stronger than she had in 5 years. Still she rested. Bucky watched over her silently, absentmindedly twirling a piece of her hair again. Mid way through the trip she woke up and smiled up at Bucky.

“Hey, do you know how much further it is?” She asked stretching out.

“Couple of hours at least.”

“No in flight movie?” She laughed.

“I’m afraid not”

“Sorry, I keep falling asleep on you.” She brushed the creases out of his jacket.

“Keep the habit, I don’t mind.” He swung an arm round her shoulders. “Tell me about your dad.”

“What do you want to know?” She asked.

“I don’t know, what’s he like. You don’t talk about him much.”

“Well…” Nancy told him, told him about Martin Cartwright. The man who’d carried her around on his shoulders when she was little. Who’d locked his work away in his study and never brought it into the home. Who’d chased Kit around the garden on the weekends. Whose marriage had broken down and how hard he’d tried to hide it from her and her brother. Who’d left her alone in London for a job he was dreading only to fall in love with Wakanda, with the people and the culture and Katima. She told him about his frantic phone calls, asking her to help him out by attending a function the next day that he wouldn’t be able to make, that had then become a more common occurrence.

“I think my father stopped coming home because what home was changed for him. He’d rather stay out there, help communications between our countries, he’s not so interested in the politics anymore.”

“And you are?” Bucky asked.

“No, I’m no politician, I’m a distraction. Mr financial secretary is having issues at home, his 13-year-old daughter is going through a difficult stage and he just wishes things could go back to how they used to be, his wife doesn’t look how she did when she was 25 anymore and he knows he doesn’t look the same either. They’re arguing more than they are talking and so he leaps at the chance to escort a young rich socialite to the ballet. He then makes some half-hearted attempts to lobby her for information but inevitably he falls asleep, not before making some obvious attempts to peek down the front of her dress, deciding she knows nothing and there is little behind those green eyes he liked so much and she’s not even worthy of proper conversation. She’s just another pretty face, should make his wife jealous though.”

“You’re more than just a pretty face. So much more.” Bucky stroked his thumb over her cheek bone. He felt an anger within him, a strong regret that he hadn’t thrown the financial secretary out of the box the night before.

“I can play part. Played it for so long I don’t know what I am, my dad tells me nothing of what he’s doing, what his plans for British-Wakanda relations are. All I know is he won’t let my people take advantage of the Wakandans,”

“I’d like to see them try,” Bucky interjected, and Nancy nodded.

“But you see they will try, not the British people per se, but the people at the top, they will always try to exploit for their own gain. My father’s made a lot of people unhappy with his silence on matter.”

“Good, though I’m surprised they let him keep his post so long.”

“They tried to remove him once, the Wakandans wouldn’t allow it, they said they wouldn’t accept a replacement.” Although she’d been pleased her dad’s job was safe, she had taken the brunt of the British displeasure, she’d heard the whispers behind her back at dinners. That her father should be looking out for his own country first, especially after everyone returned from the blip. Some thought earning Nancy’s favour would give then a path to her father. So many insincere friendships had made Nancy feel more alone than ever. And then Bucky had appeared.

Bucky looked thoughtful for a moment. He stared into her eyes and smiled.

“I have a feeling I’m going to like your father. Standing up for what is right even if his country is against him, reminds me of a man I knew. A couple on men actually.” His eyes drifted behind her to the cockpit. As if he sensed his gaze Sam turned around.

“Not long now princess, you might want to come up here and see this.” He called over to her. Nancy carefully removed the straps securing her to the bench and made her way into the cockpit. Torres’s expression matched hers as the giant black panther came into view.

“It’s amazing.”

“I can’t believe you’ve never been here before.” Bucky had silently appeared behind her.

Torres landed the jet expertly and not wanting to wait for steps to be put in, Bucky leapt from the plane lifting Nancy down after him. As soon as her feet hit the ground she was running, seeing her dad across the tarmac. He met her halfway enveloping her in a crushing embrace. He had greying blond hair and Nancy’s green eyes. He was wearing smart tailored suit which looked out of place next to the Wakandans manning their landing strip.

“Angel, thank god you’re safe, I never would’ve forgiven myself-“ He was a few inches shorter than Nancy’s 5’11”.

“I’m okay dad.” She hugged him back just as tight.

“Are you, you’ve been okay, no instances?”

“Dad, I promise you, I’m okay.” Bucky and Sam had stood back giving the pair some space, as Nancy drew away they both came to her side.

“Thank you, all three of you,” he waved at Torres who was still in the cockpit. “I am eternally grateful.”

“That’s what we do.” Sam said extending his hand, which Martin shook whole heartedly.

“Let’s get you inside, I’ve had a room made up for you, I’m sure you need rest, I’ll get some food put together,”

“Dad we need to talk, these people they meant business, I have a right to know what’s going on.” Nancy stood tall, she reached her hand out, reaching for Bucky’s, she needed the strength his touch gave her. Bucky stepped closer to her, breathing deeply and laced their fingers together. It didn’t go unnoticed, Martin Cartwright frowned, but said nothing about it.

“Nancy, you should rest we’ll talk later.”

“No, we’ll talk now.” She stayed firm.

“Okay, okay.” He gave in, leading them inside a large building with walls of windows. Through winding corridors, he led the trio to an empty meeting room. Martin sat on the edge of the table.

“Tell me what happened.” They each explained, Nancy her night at the ballet, Sam and Bucky described the men who had fought them and then followed them through London, they explained staying at the house until Torres could bring them to Wakanda, they spoke of the confrontation at the airfield though Nancy left out the mention of her brother.

“I am immeasurably grateful,” he thanked them again, “I should like to speak to my daughter alone,” Nancy held Bucky fixed by her side whilst Sam was led away by a member of the Dora Milaje.

“Bucky stays.” She said shortly, viewing her dad through narrowed eyes.

“Nancy, what is this?”

“I want you to explain and I want him to hear it to.”

“Explain what?”

“Why? What’s going on that would make someone want to ransom me. This was calculated, planned out, they weren’t giving up. Do you honestly have so much power that they thought it worthy to control you? And who are they? Dad I will stand by you, I trust your choices and judgment, but I can’t do so blindly anymore.” She threw the words at him in one breath.

“And he has to hear all this because?” Martin shot back staring at Bucky who was leaning against the wall, staring straight back.

“Because you put him in danger too.” She said quickly, eyes flicking back to Bucky. He stepped forward resting a hand on her shoulder briefly.

“And because I’m her soulmate.” He said clearly. Martins face changed them, the subtle look of guilt he’d had since their arrival was replaced with sudden fury. He dash forward punching the ex-winter solider back up against the wall, his forearm to his throat. Bucky did nothing to stop him, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Dad!” Nancy shouted.

“You!” He shouted in Bucky’s face, “you gave my daughter nightmares for years, you have haunted our family, don’t think I don’t know who you are!”

“Dad stop, what are you talking about!” She reached out grabbing her father’s shoulders, he turned his head towards her, tears in his eyes.

“You don’t remember, but I do, you were in your ballet class, he appeared, Nancy he tried to shoot you.” Realisation dawned on Bucky’s features.

“It wasn’t me, I don’t even remember that I’m not that person anymore,” Bucky plead. “I’d never hurt her, I couldn’t.”

“I’d never let him.” Nancy stated defiantly. “Please dad, let him go, it cannot be changed, are souls are one, you know this.”

Martin Cartwright released Bucky reluctantly.

“How could you keep this from me, you’ve known he was out there, all this time.” Nancy’s face cracked, a tear escaping her eye.

“I knew him for what he is, a murderer.”

“He isn’t anymore, he is pardoned, the winter solider is gone, I am Bucky’s, and he is mine, you accept us both or neither of us.” She stood beside him now, holding tight to his vibranium hand, the black and gold metal stark against her pale fingers.

“Nancy.” Martin warned, the stern voice she hadn’t heard since childhood.

“Together, or not at all.” She said finally. That conversation ended there, Bucky felt Nancy relax as she realised her father was retreating. He ran a hand through his thinning hair.

“Angel, I don’t know what these people want, I promise you.” He started meeting her eye before adding “I am going to try to tell you more, I just worry, I don’t want to burden you.” Nancy nodded, mouthed a thank you and allowed her father to lead her to her room in the ambassador’s apartment. The embassy building they were in consisted of a ground level of conference room, then each floor held apartments for different countries, all together in one place. Martin mostly stayed at Katima house further into the country, finding it quieter than the busy city. Katima was on her way back from Paris having completed her assignment there, Martin explained to Nancy whilst Bucky went in search of Sam. He hoped they could have dinner the following evening.

“Is Bucky invited?” Nancy asked.

“If he must be, if it means you’ll be there.”

“I’ll be there regardless, but I want him there.” her dad nodded in acceptance.

“Here you are, make yourself at home, I’m sorry I can’t send you back to London, not till I know you’ll be safe.” Nancy resisted insisting that as long as she was with Bucky she would be safe, she didn’t need to rub salt in that wound. He kissed her forehead briefly before walking away. Her dad was still so awkward around her, treating her with kid gloves, distancing himself. She made her way into the apartment, it was tastefully if neutrally decorated with blacks and whites and greys everywhere. She threw her hold-all down on the sofa and made her way through to the bathroom. She ran a steaming hot bath and soaked off the grime of travel. Her skin pink and hair damp she dug out her pyjamas, a loose-fitting red vest top and some black cotton shorts. She explored the apartment then, the bedroom had been prepared with crisp clean sheets, the fridge was stocked, and some additional clothes were folded in the draws. Nancy found herself curled up on the sofa answering a frantic text from Samara when there was a knock at the door, the control panel showed Bucky leaning against the door frame. She skipped over letting him in.

“Nancy, I’m so sorry, I didn’t remember, I never want to hurt you.” he cupped her face with both hands.

“Bucky it’s okay, it wasn’t you,” Nancy protested.

“It was though,” he continued. Nancy covered his mouth with her hand.

“Stop it, we can’t change the past, only our future.” Bucky nodded in agreement as Nancy lowered her hand. She saw Bucky’s eyes dance over her face, noticed the goose bumps from earlier had returned. Then she was kissing him, or he was kissing her. Her hand found the pack of his neck and weaved into his hair, he lent forward still cupping her face. he smiled against her lips.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve done that.” he laughed, kissing her again.

#bucky barnes #winter solider #sam wilson #captain america #mcu #mcu fic #soulmate

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 5 years ago

Text

Sick Little Games: Seven

B.C.

“Y/N I swear. If you ever do anything that blatantly stupid ever again,” Steve threatened as you sipped a cup of water.

“Yes, dad,” you sigh rolling your eyes.

Steve glared at you as Natasha muttered angry Russian expletives and you smile a little, “Look, I knew that it was incredibly unlikely I was going to die. It was just going to hurt. A lot. Still hurts actually.”

Natasha scowled as she tucked the blankets around you, “It was still stupid.”

“Oh,” you snort, wincing, “There’s no doubt about that. But It was effective and I had to act fast... That hell-hound had only been topside about 12 hours. And I almost couldn’t stop it... If I’d waited we would have been fucked. And it takes centuries for demons to marshal enough energy to build one up here... So. I’ll take the win.”

Thor was quiet, arms folded where he leaned on the wall. He was glad you were safe. That you were going to make a full recovery. But the image of you in a pool of black blood, bloodied and twitching still made his chest ache. “How did you know I wouldn’t kill you?” he asked softly.

“Your less well-documented powers don’t exist in a vacuum, Thor,” you answer, “Terrified Christian monks who wrote down stories had to hear them from somewhere... I needed consecrated ground. Quickly. And to do that I needed to be able to conduct the energy and... I needed to be holding on to direct it where I needed it to go.” Thor moved closer to the bed and pats your cheek, “We thought we lost you for a second, witchling.”

“Nah,” you say, giving him a brave smile. It still felt like you might be dying. It certainly hurt that much. “I’m like a bad habit.”

“Thor isn’t Christian,” Steve said abruptly.

You shrug, “The Christians don’t hold a monopoly on Holy... The definition is fairly flexible. Thor still has followers, thus where he works a miracle... and this fucking counts because I didn’t know if this was gonna work, there is holy ground.”

Steve frowned but nodded, taking a second to kiss the side of your head, “Still. If you ever do something that stupid ever again I’m gonna make Bucky do your training rounds with you.”

Thor chanced to glance at you and your face betrayed nothing. Only the same mild amusement it had a moment ago. And as for year heartbeat... well. It was still irregular and too fast. Your body on high alert after your Jolt. But a muscle in your throat pulsed just slightly. Just enough to tell him your prey instincts had kicked in, and if you could have done it, you’d be ready to bolt.

The Three of them left shortly after to give you some time to rest and Clint slipped in quietly.

“Hey, Cupcake,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. Now that your eyes were open and you were sitting up he felt like it was okay. Before “okay” was a horribly abstract concept.

“Hey, Hawk,” you say, smiling a little. “You okay?” Clint takes a second to look at you. Big luminous eyes and tangled chaotic hair. You look frail and pale... Nat had told him like a sick Victorian Child who wouldn’t make it to Spring. But fuck if you aren’t the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

“Now that I’m seeing you alive?” he said giving you a crooked smile and tucking himself sitting next to you, “I’m great. This might be the best day of my life... I thought you were a goner, babe.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, “There’ll be better days, Clint,” you tell him fondly.

“Yeah,” he said, “The day they let you out of medical and you meet my dog.”

“YOU GOT A DOG?” you yelp, “Gimme, lemme see the puppy.” You make a sort of vague grabby hands gesture.

“He’s not a puppy. He’s a grumpy mutt I pulled out of an Alley... who then proceeded to steal my pizza and get shot.” he said, “And they told me he can’t be in here.”

“But witches need to commune with nature,” you pout, “And that,” you say pointing at the sad little potted plant in your window sill, “Is NOT nature. It’s plastic!”

Clint chuckles and rests his cheek on your head, “If I get in trouble I’m blaming you.”

“Don’t you usually?” you ask.

“Touche,” Clint conceded getting off the bed. He knew from the jump he couldn’t tell you no. He’d already told Lucky all about you. And as he padded his way into the room and made his way up to the bed, Clint had no regrets.

Lucky wiggled his way into your arms and accepted all the kisses and cuddles and effusive compliments about what a pretty boy he was. And Clint watched, smiling a little. You glowed. Warmth and light. Compassion. You took in everyone’s flaws and loved them anyway. The way you didn’t think you deserved. And Clint knew. He knew. That he’d never be able to tell you “no” ever again. He also, when he had to half drag Lucky off your bed, was vaguely aware that his dog probably loved you more than him. And Clint had to admit that that was fair. You were definitely nicer to look at.

____________________

A.C.

“Where’s Lucky,” you ask in the quiet on your porch.

“With Nat,” Clint answers smiling a little, “Plane rides freak him out.”

Clint watched the sun sink lower, burning up the atmosphere and turning the sky a flamingo pink. Stars were starting to sparkle on the horizon and the air was getting cooler. Crickets were singing and birds were calling out. It felt nice. Rocking you on the porch swing in the quiet.

“So,” he asked teasing, “If you don’t have T.V. what do you do out here?”

“This,” you answer, gesturing vaguely. “There’s a pond out back for swimming and my closest neighbor is four miles away... I just. I mean I’m not a total animal. I do have Wifi. But sometimes I just... I can’t take being trapped in anymore.”

Clint makes a soft sound and pulls you closer, “So you wanted freedom.”

“And some time. Time to figure out my next move.”

“Are you coming back?” he asked, his voice so soft that you can hardly hear him.

“I don’t- I’m not- I shouldn’t.” you settle on finally, “We just got the team back in working order... and this. This is the only family I have. I really don’t want to be the one responsible for tearing it apart.”

Clint stops and looks down at you, tilting your chin up carefully, “Babe,” he murmurs, “You did nothing wrong. Not one thing. Barnes did all of this. You were quietly nursing a harmless little crush. And he exploited it. Exploited you.” When you look away, uncertain he sighs, “Look. If it were Nat what would you tell her?”

“Nat would have already killed him,” you point out.

Clint makes a soft exasperated sound, “Fine. Any other woman. Would this be their fault?”

“No but-” you trail off and Clint stops, stroking his thumb against your jaw.

“But what?” he presses.

“They aren’t me,” you say exhaling slowly.

“What does that mean, baby girl,” he asks.

“I mean I could have influenced him. I could have cast a charm unintentionally and he could have reacted poorly and-”

Clint tries. He wants to hear how you’ve twisted this around in your head to make it all your fault. He wants to know so he can tear it apart. But he can’t. He can’t listen to you justify that level of manipulation. So he kisses you. It’s a soft kiss. The gentlest way he knows to stop you talking. To distract whatever anxious death spiral you’re about to go down to tell yourself that you did this and you deserve it all.

It’s over before it really starts and Clint is pulling away about to apologize when you sit there blinking at him in shock. “Stop,” he says instead of apologizing. “I know you. You never do anything like that unintentionally. Hell. You never do anything unintentionally. You agonize about people’s feelings for hours before you send a risky text sometimes... Even if you did cast some spell on him, baby it’s the same one you cast on everyone. Just by being you. And being you doesn’t mean that that grumpy fuck gets to abuse you.”

When you start to cry, Clint pulls you into his lap wordlessly and just rocks you. “No one,” he murmurs, “deserves what people have done to you, babe. Not one person.” He doesn’t try to stop it. He just lets you sob, even though every racked stuttering breath makes his chest hurt. He’s seen you a mess before, but not like this. Not this shattered and jagged. This tortured.

And for once, he doesn’t think a stupid joke and a cupcake is going to make it better. For once, he’s going to have to ride out the storm.

____________

B.C.

Girls' night in the compound meant a lot of things. Mostly, it meant that Tony was working Pepper’s last nerve and had enlisted every last woman she could find to throw a night out on his dime because he’d irritated her.

But it also meant, of course, that the men in the compound had unexpected free time. Which was both a blessing and a curse as they all sat in the commons trying to decide what movies to watch and what pizza toppings to order.

They were mid-argument when you came downstairs kitted out for the night. Complete with a corset, black leather skirt, fishnets, and combat boots. You look feral and sexy. Sleek. All smoke and sultry. And that skirt is riding temptingly high on your thigh. For just a half a second, Bucky can’t not stare.

Until he realizes who you are.

“You look-” Steve stops. Not sure what to say, looking flustered. You never show that amount of skin if you can help it.

“Otherworldly and vaguely threatening?” Bruce supplies, as Thor nods in agreement.

Sam whistles, “Damn,” he says, “Girl where’d you hide that outfit?”

Clint, standing next to Thor makes a sound that reminds the god irresistibly of a mouse being stepped on. The god is pretty sure the Archer stopped breathing when you stepped off the elevator.

“Nice “Come fuck me boots,” Tony observed drily.

“They were on sale,” you say, tossing a wild mane of curls over your shoulder.

When you drift out, Clint falls forward, face planting into the sofa, “Please. Please tell me that was real.”

“Oh yeah,” Sam chuckled, “That was real.”

“Fuck me.” he groaned, “That’s just rude.”

“Or not,” Bucky muttered, picking up his phone.

___________

When you hadn’t so much as looked at him, Bucky was irritated. Who the fuck were you to not pay attention to him. Well. He had a way to fix you. He had a way to remind you that he could destroy you. And he wanted to.

How dare you act like he didn’t matter to you when he knew it wasn’t true. He knew it wasn’t from the quiet way you still just... did things. The way he could hear your heart race in a quiet room. The way your eyes light up when he was even passingly civil. The innocence rankled. The sweetness. The fact that you got to stay the same while he was beaten into submission.

It didn’t take long. Not for the next phase of his plan to take place. Models were in easy supply. Everyone wanted to fuck a hero. And when he started looking, women crawled out of the woodwork. Perfect. The perfect thing to trot out.

The first one had almost been accidental but after that... well after that, it was fun. The shock. The blushing. The scampering up the hall. The next morning knowing you’d skip breakfast to get your work out in. It felt right, ripping those pieces of innocence out from under you. Forcing you to stop in your tracks and deal with this reality instead of sprinkling glitter on it.

He loved every minute of snatching that out of your hands. But, he reflected, it felt like it was time for something... new. Of course, he came to this conclusion when you walked in on him fucking some blonde off of Tinder in the motor pool when you were going to get your jeep and you’d not looked nearly... startled, enough. He needed more, he decided. He just needed to figure out how to get it.

Tags: @lancsnerd, @thorfanficwriter @blameitonthecauseway @etherealwaifgoddess, @stevieang, @beautybyfire, @sunmoonandbucky @mrsfox79, @bbmommy0902, @mendes-fan, @iheartsebastianstan, @wtfcas @pinknerdpanda, @process-pending, @ladifreakingda, @leasly, @coldbookworm, @hv-chw3, @past-perfect-future-tense, @starkrobb @beardburnsupersoldiers, @petlaufeyson, @queenoftheunderdark, @potatoheadthewise, @thehyperactiveteen, @thefridgeismybestie, @boyett514, @an-awkward-human-1, @sunshine-and-riverwater

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes X reader #Clint Barton #Clint Barton x reader #fluff #Lucky #Thor #natasha romanoff #Steve Rogers #Sam Wilson #Tony Stark #manipulation #voyerurism #asshole!Bucky

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hedwigstalons · 5 years ago

Text

WIP tag game

I got tagged by @tsarisfanfiction. I’m now feeling a little bit glared at by my WIPs of which it turns out there are a few. I originally set out to be a ‘task and finish’ writer. No overlapping projects. See things through to completion. It turns out that hasn’t happened and I have a few things open at the moment. Only one of which has been aired to the world though so I’m sort of managing to not leave people hanging.

Sorry if you have already been tagged elsewhere; I’ve tried not to do duplicates but it’s difficult to keep up. I’d like to see what projects @godsliltippy @the-lady-razorsharp and @sonatanotwo have in progress.

So here it is; my unfinished pile.

1) Untitled - Virgil whump

This is the only WIP that I’ve published bits of. I don't even know if it’s a WIP or if it will stay as a random attempt at whump practice. Basically I chucked Virgil down an old open cast gold mine in a pod. This is where I left it.

“Brains is gonna kill me.”

“Not this time. We’re all still glad to have you with us. You won’t be flying for a while though.”

The fact that he was still in hospital was a fairly good indicator of that and Virgil would have rolled his eyes if he had the energy.

“And it’s not just flying you won’t be doing for a while. You got pretty beat up out there. You broke both your collar bones, dislocated a shoulder and got a bad case of whiplash among other things.”

Virgil let the implications of this wash over him. He was no stranger to physical injury; none of them were. But injuries that would keep him from his art were the most painful to bear. He would pick a broken leg over a broken arm any day. At least then he could paint through his recovery.

The tears that graced his eyelashes now were nothing to do with the overhead lighting.

2) Untitled - something with Selene for #irrelief

I’ve taken on the challenge of using someone else's OC. I’ve been following the various exploits of Selene (created by @willow-salix) so I’m hoping I’ve captured her character and can do her justice. Here is how this one starts.

The radio was on, the autopilot was doing its thing and Thunderbird Witch was eating up the miles towards home. Ok, she had been majorly sceptical of the upgrades to her little car to begin with but after a few long haul trips to the island she could see the benefits of being able to fly. It certainly made visiting clients easier. In just ten minutes she should be back on the outskirts of London ready to finish her journey on the more conventional four wheels. She considered calling out for pizza; she should be home before the delivery ready to gorge herself on the cheesy goodness. Her stomach rumbled at the prospect.

Her stomach wasn’t the only thing making ominous noises.

The engine coughed and spluttered; a disconcerting thing to happen at 15,000 feet.

Selene urged her precious car onwards, invoking prayers to every deity imaginable not to let her plunge to her death in a twisted heap of mangled metal and glass. The car continued to do its best impression of a tractor and jolts could be felt running though its body as the engine misfired.

The looming tide of dread threatened to tip the scales into full blown panic as the engine gave its largest hiccup yet. It was time to contact the other omnipresent being in her life.

“John, sweetie. Are you busy?”

3) High Expectations

This tells the story of young Gordon and his relationship with Jeff and the rest of the family. So far it starts in high school and should continue into WASP.

This is a long term project and should turn into a longer and more involved piece. While it is multi-chaptered I probably won’t actually publish anything until I’ve got the whole thing written. It’s a challenging writing style for me and I struggle with extended plot. It’s also being written hideously put of order with various backfilling as scenes grab me. It’s a bit angsty and a bit emotionally whumpy.

Here is a little snippet from somewhere in the middle.

“And what if it’s not what I want? Sometimes it feels like I don’t have any say in my life. Dad wants me to stop swimming. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

Truth be told, Virgil didn’t. He had only ever met encouragement for his plans. He had been supported and his passions had been indulged. Music lessons and art classes had co-existed with school, ensuring he had a therapeutic release from his more traditional studies. His desire to study engineering had been greeted with enthusiasm and a generous allowance.

“I’m sure Dad only wants what’s best for you.”

“Yeah, it always comes down to what Dad wants.” There was a snort of derision. “But news flash Virgil, I’m not like the rest of you. I’m never going to get into Harvard or Yale or anywhere else Dad would approve of. And I don’t want to. I have one thing I’m good at and now that’s being taken away.”

4) Scott’s Situation

I had a random thought a while back about the boys being too busy for relationships and family. But there was a time before International Rescue and I speculated the Scott was probably a bit of a player at college. This is something I started back in November and haven’t touched since. I don’t know if I’ll ever finish it. I’ve stepped away for too long and my writing and ideas have moved on. I also don’t have an end point in mind which doesn’t help. This bit is from somewhere near the beginning.

Grandma Tracy looked around at the sound of the door; normally she was left well alone when the urge to bake took hold. She took in Scott’s pale face in a single glance and took off her oven mitts.

“Grandma. I have….a situation”.

Feeling it better if she read the detail herself Scott passed her the tablet with the email still open on the screen.

Dear Mr Tracy,

I regret to inform you of the passing of Mary Ellen Williams following a short battle with cancer. As the executor of her will I am charged with carrying out her final wishes. Miss Williams’ estate is left in trust to her son, Sam Williams. I am entrusted to administer this trust until Sam reaches the age of 18. However, Miss Williams requested that custody of Sam falls to you, as his sole surviving family, in your capacity as father.

The email continued, giving details of a solicitors office in England, and further instructions regarding taking custody of Sam. To Scott it felt like an eternity watching his Grandma read the full email in silence.

Grandma Tracy put down the tablet and surveyed her grandson. When she spoke her questions was blunt and to the point.

“Is this true?” she asked.

“I don’t know”, Scott ran his fingers through his hair, looking agitated.

“It’s certainly got you rattled. Start at the beginning” she instructed.

So there you go. The current stack of unfinished work glaring at me. If you see anything you like, let me know and it might get bumped to the top of pile.

#work in progress #unfinished fics #feeling called out #best get writing again

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ilikewrite · 6 years ago

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After - The Society FanFic Part 3

Sorry guys, this is going to be a long one!

Grizz wakes to the sound of a boiling kettle. For a split second, he believes he’s home. His mum is making her breakfast and that he’s late for school. Then reality comes flooding back as he’s greeted with the family photos of Cassandra and Allie hanging on the wall. His clothes are crumpled in a pile on the floor, whilst his blanket has been flung to the side. Clearly, he’d been tossing and turning all night. He sighs, unable to find the strength to sit up. He didn’t really remember falling asleep. He lay down and now he’s awake and it’s the next day.

He can hear the creaks throughout the house as others wake up and move about. Whoever is in the kitchen in shuffling their feet, closing cupboards as quietly as possible, making sure not to disturb anyone. It seems that no one else has left their rooms. What time was it? It’s daylight outside and with it being late in the year it must mean that it was quite late. He pats himself down, trying to find where he put his phone. Nothing. He scans the room and finds it on the coffee table. He debates the effort of reaching for it but knows that after yesterday, it’s probably best he check it. Sore and stiff, he grabs his phone and is immediately greeted with messages from The Guard and Harry. His stomach drops. The Guard were mostly welcoming him home, mentioning something to do with Campbell. The thought of that boy turns his stomach. How, after everything they knew about him, did they trust him? He notices Campbell’s name popping up in The Guards chat. He switches to Harry’s message, hoping it will lift his spirits. He knew it wouldn’t, and it didn’t. It was asking him and the others to come to meet them today to discuss the land they found. Grizz didn’t want to tell them shit. He went out under Allie’s plan. Allie had a plan for when they found land, these two didn’t. They’re going to feel in over their heads. In high school, Harry revealed in popularity, feeling important, being rich. He was nice enough, funny and liked to have a laugh but when it came to the world, he lived in a bubble. He liked to be the sun, the people around him are planets to him. When this world happened, Grizz knew he has struggled, struggled to understand that the rules from before do not apply the same here. The societal aspects of life that Harry had always enjoyed were thrown out the window. There was no time for it. Right now, it’s about survival and once we survive, we can thrive. Once we have a working community in place, Harry could go about trying to be a pompous twat again. Grizz ignored the message. He’ll get back to them later. He wants to see Allie, Will, Luke and… His heart skips a beat. Sam., He needs to see Sam. He doesn’t want to see Harry or Lexie until he’s spoken to everyone else. However, he knows that to get to some of these people he’ll have to see Lexie and Harry first. He groans.

Gwen pops up, head peering over the sofa staring down at him. He falls off the sofa. “Oh my god! I’m sorry!” Grizz sits up, rubbing his face. Gwen holds out a coffee. He takes it, purely to wake himself up a little. Gwen’s hair is slightly wet, she’s wearing a dressing gown that doesn’t quite fit her properly. Grizz hears the low hum of the washing machine. If he’d known a wash was going to be put on, he’d have given them his- “I put your other clothes in the wash, you should have something clean to wear today.” Oh. He smiles his appreciation. She moves to sit on the chair whilst Grizz slumps back onto the sofa. “So, what are we doing today?” The truth, Grizz didn’t know. He didn’t know what to tell her, or anyone else for that matter. However, he knew the others wanted to know his thoughts, wanted him to make this decision.

“Lexie and Harry want to meet to discuss the new land we’ve found.” Gwen nods, watching the steam from her coffee billow up into the air. It’s an uncomfortable thought having Lexie and Harry as the new Mayors. They’d grown used to Allie and her rules, but I guess, there had been Cassandra before as well. Grizz knew that had been different though. Allie had led the community for months and through so much more than what Cassandra had done. He hadn’t grown accustomed to Cassandra the way he had with Allie’s rule. Grizz was curious at Gwen’s uncomfortableness however, she wasn’t exactly Allie’s number one fan. He would have considered her to fall before Lexie rather than Allie. Gwen would be one of the ones he thought to love the change in the throne. Perhaps, it's due to the way they had entered the town yesterday. If it’d been less of a mob, with Allie and Will not in custody, maybe she would be more willing to be following Lexie. “Are you fine with what I said last night?” He cautious, neither of them are looking at each other. It’s obvious that the town essentially has two fractions. What they’re essentially doing right now is telling half-truths to protect themselves, to protect their own ideas. “You know, the plan of what we’ll tell people?” Gwen takes a moment, sipping the coffee silently before finally meeting Grizz’s gaze.

“Yes.” She pauses, contemplating her next sentence. “I think it’s the best option for now. The town doesn’t seem as stable as before.” Grizz nods in agreement. There was never comfortable stability in this town but the atmosphere in the air now is similar to that after the murder of Cassandra. It is unsettling. “Do you believe what they’re saying about Allie and Will?” She’s quiet, unsure of herself, of what she is saying. Grizz had to admit, he had no idea what they were saying about Allie and Will. He still had no idea what was going on.

The texts messages flash across his eyes and he picks his phone up again, Gwen raises an eyebrow. He scans through The Guard’s chat and see’s Luke’s message of Allie and Will being arrested for voter fraud. He laughs. Are they serious? Is Luke serious? Voter Fraud or not, the level of viciousness the crowd showed clearly suggested a more complex issue that Lexie and Harry were exploiting. Any idiot could see that. He passes, well, maybe not. Maybe because they’ve been away, their heads are clear of the propaganda that has happened during the election. Gwen’s watching him curiously, waiting for him to answer. He slumps, downing the coffee.

“No. I don’t believe it.” She nods and he continues. “She has made many difficult decisions, has helped establish some order, some sort of normal and made mistakes but I do not believe this.” He waves his hands about, frustrated with the community, his peers. “I think people don’t realise that no matter who is in charge, the hard work will continue, the hard work, confusion and life continues. Allie and Will were not the cause of that but Lexie and Harry are making them the scapegoats.” Gwen looks down, biting her lip. He gets it, she, like everyone else, have, at some point, been frustrated with the monotonous and prison-like feel of this place but that’s what needs to be done right now, that’s life now. They let themselves drift into silence for a bit. Gwen continues to sip her coffee, whilst Grizz plays with his now empty mug.

Helena enters the room, dressed, coat hanging off her shoulders. Her face is not pleased. She doesn’t bother to take her shoes or jacket off, instead strides towards Grizz. His eyebrows raise at the attitude emitting off her. “You all missed breakfast. A few of the workers who are not out of their minds are coming with any leftovers.” Both Gwen and Grizz stare, unable to give an answer, more seems to be going on with Helena but Grizz knows that she won’t share unless it’s on her terms. “Grizz, Harry said you haven’t messaged him back yet.” Grizz huffs, Helena rolls her eyes. “I know. But this is life now. We can’t help anyone if all our allies are behind bars.” Grizz shifts, uncomfortable at the thought. He doesn’t like the idea of being trapped. He wouldn’t be able to cope with such a thing; he wonders if Allie and Will feel the same. Grizz chucks his phone at Helena, she catches it with ease, he’s impressed.

“Tell them we’ll talk once I’ve seen Allie and Will. Alone.” It’s a bold move. He’s hoping their need for information is great enough he can speak to them, but Helena’s face hardens at his idea.

“Don’t be idiotic Grizz. That’s how we got here.” Not true. They came here on mystical busses that transported us to another plane of existence. Regardless, he knows Helena is right. Going straight in with a defensive attitude will lead to conflict. They need to play this smart, whether he has the patience for it or not.

“You know my thoughts. I said them last night. Tell them I’ll meet with them this afternoon. 3 o’clock.” He shrugs. He knows he wants to put this off for as long as possible to try and get his story straight but also so he can go to the hospital and see Sam. Since waking up, he’d put the thoughts of Sam to the back of his mind. It had been a constant hum in the back of his mind. When they first entered back into the town, he knew all he wanted to do was see Sam but that’s clearly not going to be so easy.

“3 is a bit late.” Helena is unsure as keeping them waiting all day will seem suspicious like he’s planning something but Grizz shoots her a look telling that on this, he will not compromise. “At least give me a reason for the time.”

“I’m visiting Sam, Becca and the baby. My group need to recuperate a little longer. Add what you like. You’re in charge of my phone now.” He didn’t mean to sound so demanding and exasperated but he was already done with all of the shit. It’s been six months of shit and just when things were on the up for him, this whole thing comes crashing down.

“I’m not your lackey. I have business at the church and my own responsibilities.” Yet she types the message, anyway and pockets his phone. “You’ve said you’ll be at the church at 3. I expect you to show up Grizz.” She walks to the kitchen, sorting through some stuff. Grizz glances over his shoulder and see’s the others have made their way down and were all relaxing. No one seemed happy but they certainly weren’t emitting the same energy as before. Grizz sighs, standing. He better get ready if he is planning on a trip to the hospital first. Gwen stands with him. He raises his eyebrows at her.

“I’m coming too. Moral support.” Grizz smiles and nods. It would probably be best. It’s going to be a long day.

Gwen and Grizz left the others in Helena’s care. They agreed to be as vague about the trip as possible and help Helena at the church until they knew what to do next. No one was happy but it was better than nothing.

Grizz is nervous. His stomach is swirling and his hear is beating faster than it had when he’d asked Sam to kiss him. Gwen has suggested they stop off at one of the shops to get a present. The town was eerily empty. Those they did meet greeted them but didn’t do much else. He got the sense that those who support Lexie knew that Grizz didn’t. There is a children’s shop that has lain empty and untouched for months. No one thought to go near it, there had been no reason too. They weren’t babies or children. But now there is a reason.

They picked up as much as they could fit into a rucksack. Once Becca and the baby were discharged, he imagines rules about commodities will start to be put in place. It’s not going to be long before currency is introduced into the town, but for now, they can raid this shop and give them enough for a good start.

Grizz didn’t hate Becca and he certainly didn’t hate the baby. If anything, he was jealous that they have Sam. He’s definitely got mixed feelings about everything. He likes Sam but this whole situation is complicated. He doesn’t understand how they could work things out. Sam has a baby. That changes everything. Regardless, Grizz knew that right now he wanted to see him. He knows things are different now and he doesn’t want to be some secret in Sam’s closet, so he’ll keep his distance after today. But for today he wants to see him.

“What if the baby’s ugly?” Grizz’s eyes shift to Gwen as she babbles next to him. She’s surprisingly lifting his mood. She’s not asking him anything deep or personal, she’s just talking nonsense. It’s a nice change. “Like what if it’s really ugly.”

“It’s not going to be ugly.” Grizz sighs.

“All babies look like old men.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Yeah, they do.” He laughs at her insistence on the matter. They continue to discuss what babies truly look like when they’re first born. It eases Grizz’s stomach slightly, they were just visiting friends. Their friend had a baby. That’s all. He and Sam don’t have any history. There’s nothing- He sees the hospital and falters in his step. Gwen doesn’t notice and he’s easily able to catch up with her. The nerves were back and firing through his body. This is going to be awkward.

Gordie is walking through the front door as the approach. He jumps as Gwen calls out to him. There’s a wry smile on his face. Ever since Cassandra’s death, he had never been the same. However, Gordie always tried his best to figure the puzzles out, make things better but he needs the right people around him for him to fully thrive. Allie let him have the autonomy, checked in on him and had meetings but left Gordie to be able to investigate and solve in his own way. Will Lexie and Harry allow the same?

“Can we see them now?” Grizz manages to hide his extreme nervousness for uncertainty. He just sounds like he’s unsure if now is the right time instead of the-man-I-fancy-just-had-a-baby-with-his-best-friend nervous.

“Uh, yeah, yeah!” They start to make their way in when Gordie turns on them and holds up his hands. His face is slightly contorted as he’s sorting out the wording of his next sentence in his head. “Just one thing uh,” he pauses, pursing his lips. Gwen and Grizz look at each other and then back to Gordie, waiting. “Can we not mention the whole Allie, Will thing?” Their mouths drop.

“Do they not know!?” Grizz’s voice comes across a little aggressive as Gordie flinches slightly. He straightens up, “Sorry, but what the fuck?” Gordie smiles slightly accepting the apology.

“Well, Sam knows but Becca doesn’t. We explained to Sam last night, but we just want some normalcy for Becca and Eden until we think she’s ready to head home.” He holds his breath, eyes flicking to both of their faces, trying to gather what they’re thinking. No one says anything, he lets out a breath and focuses on Grizz. “Sam was worried about you.” His heart squeezes. His mouth his suddenly very dry and struggles for words so instead, he just raises an eyebrow. “We didn’t explain things well last night, so it made it sound like you were hurt or something and then with the whole Allie and Will stuff, it just got a bit stressful, so he’ll be relieved to see at least one of you is fine.” He had been worried about him? The thought sends butterflies flying through his stomach and he desperately just wants to stride past Gordie right now, but he has to keep his cool.

“You guys need to work on your wording.” Gordie flashes a nervous smile before turning and allowing them through.

He can hear the faint cries in the distance. Gwen and Gordie have sped up, excitement filling Gwen. Grizz however, finds himself slowing. His limbs, chest and head heavy. He can hear the baby. She’s real. This is real. The cries quieten and he can hear the murmurs of voices, he assumes Kelly and Becca.

They turn a corner and Gwen squeals seeing the baby. She rushes forward with Becca’s face lighting up at the sight of them. Sam is laughing at Gwen’s rushed talking, his eyebrows raised trying to understand what she’s saying, it is too fast for him pick up on everything. That’s when he turns. Everything in Grizz’s world stops. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to say. Sam’s frozen too. Their last moment together playing on repeat in his head. The worry he’d felt as Grizz had wandered off into the unknown, afraid he’d never see that face again. The others haven’t noticed their sudden stillness. Becca is the first to address Grizz, she smiles brightly as she makes eye contact with him. “Grizz! Gwen says Allie and Will couldn’t make it because of election issues. Is everything okay?” He shakes his head, his hair falling in front of his face. As he pushes it back, he regains his composure and smiles.

“Honestly, I’m still trying to settle back in, I’m not sure what’s going on.” It’s the truth. He’s not entirely sure what’s going on. Becca nods pleased with the answer. Grizz awkward holds out the rucksack. Gwen rolls her eyes whilst the others just stare at him. “Uh. Gifts.” Becca looks to Sam to take it from Grizz but notices his malfunctioning brain and instead turns to Kelly.

“Sorry about him, I kept waking him up through the night. Just because he can’t hear, he thinks he can get away without having sleepless nights. Not on my watch.” Grizz emits a rather forced and nervous laugh. Gwen eyes him strangely as Kelly takes the bag off him. Gwen is given the baby. “Be careful.”

“I’ve got this, I used to babysit the neighbour’s kids.” In a rather hushed and cooed voice, she addresses the innocent child. “Hi, Eden. Aren’t you adorable?” She sits in a chair cooing at the child. Grizz’s eyes wander over to her. Eden, a fitting name. A pure untouched soul surrounded by chaos. She is beautiful. And so small. She makes a soft baby noise. Grizz could only describe it as a soft pop, nothing crazy but he finds himself smiling. This baby is going to be loved by everyone. He hadn’t realised he’d moved towards them until his hand was reaching out towards the child. He gently shakes her hand. Her fingers for a moment grasp his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Eden.” His voice cracks slight as he finds himself overwhelmed with emotion. So soft and warm and small. Such a fragile human. They have to do whatever it takes to protect this child.

A tear rolls down Sam’s face. Becca tugs at his top. “Are you okay?” She signs, not wanting to draw attention to the sudden emotional mess her friend had become. He nods. She frowns but doesn’t push the matter. Wiping the tears away, Sam finally finds his legs and walks around the bed. Grizz turns at the sound of footsteps and finds himself embraced by Sam. He doesn’t hesitate and pulls him in closer, their heads buried deep into each other’s shoulders. The grip each other tight and if they didn’t have a crowd both of them would have kissed the other by now. For a moment, it is just them. Grizz can smell the disinfectant and baby smell off Sam. Not his usual scent but all the same it was weirdly comforting whilst Sam basked in Grizz’s musk, the clean air from outside clung to him like he’s clinging to him now. Gwen breaks their moment.

“I didn’t get a welcome like that.” Her sarcastic tone is followed by a laugh. “No, I didn’t, did I, Eden? Clearly, your parents have favourites. It’s like they forgot I went away too!” The baby voice she puts on breaks the tension in the room. Becca is eyeing them suspiciously but seems to let it slide as she watches Gwen with Eden, both laughing at Gwen’s ridiculous voice. Gordie has returned with notes, pulling Kelly aside. Sam and Grizz break apart but still hold onto each other, making sure they don’t disappear. Grizz is the first to let go and he sees a flash of panic across Sam’s eyes for a second, but he’d been practising this and wanted to do it.

“I told you I’d see you soon.” He mouths robotically whilst signing the gist of what he’s saying. Sam’s smile widens and a small laugh break from him. Grizz isn’t sure if this is because he did it right or he did it wrong. “Did I get it wrong again?” He turns to Becca who’s laughing as well. “I did, didn’t I? I’m trying!” Becca carries on a laugh and goes to sign when Sam cuts her off.

“No, you got it right, just a bit messy.” Sam and Becca exchange a look suggesting that he had gotten it wrong, but they didn’t want to tell him. Grizz is unsure of what to do now. He knows what he wants to do but it’s inappropriate.

“Well, are you going to open the presents or not? Grizz and I spent ages this morning picking stuff out.” Gwen’s exasperated tone helps move things along and Grizz swears she mouth you’re welcome to him as the attention is taken off him. Had she figured it out? No, Grizz is too good at playing it cool for her to have done that.

Sam settles back in his seat and Becca starts going through the rucksack. There are plenty of things in there that Grizz has no idea what they’re called but Becca squeals and shows them off to Sam super excited so he’s happy she’s enjoying them. There’s a pang in his stomach as he watches them interact, knowing that this was Sam’s life now. This is his family. And that this was Grizz, on the outside. The thing he hates and loves about Sam is his love and loyalty towards the ones he cares about. Grizz would never want it but Sam would never give up on his family, no matter how much he wanted Grizz. Sam would be loyal and staring at Eden now, Grizz wouldn’t want it any other way, no matter how much it hurt him.

They get to the end of the rucksack, Becca has said thank you over and over again but honestly, these would have gone to waste without Becca and Eden so it’s no problem. Gwen passes Eden seamlessly back over to Becca and jumps up from the seat. “Your go.” Gwen beams at him. Grizz confused just looks around at everyone. Becca is smiling at him, nodding. Then he realises.

“Oh, no. No. It’s fine. I’ll break her.” He holds up his hands standing back a little. Gwen, however, pushes Grizz into the chair. He has no choice in the matter apparently. Becca guides his arms as he takes Eden. She’s heavier than he expected but still feels like nothing in his arms. He’s never been so still. Becca and Gwen giggle as they watch him awkward hold her. “Is that good? Is she safe? I’m not hurting her right?”

“You’re doing fine.” Sam smiles as he says it. Grizz and Sam lock eyes and smile. This is weird but sweet. Eden makes a noise and he looks down at her. Her eyes are identical to Becca’s. She truly is a beautiful soul. Grizz’s heart is melting.

“She’s so small.” He gives another nervous laugh. This is slowly becoming his normal laugh at this rate. Everyone laughs alongside him. Eden starts to cry. He panics. “What did I do? I’m sorry, I’m sorry. No, don’t cry. I’m sorry. Help” He looks up to the laughing crowd. Becca takes Eden off him and hushes her slightly, letting her suck on her pinkie. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she just needs to be fed.” Becca looks at Sam, who nods. Gwen picks up the signal that it was time for them to go. She picks up the empty rucksack, hugging Becca and saying bye to the baby. Grizz gives a somewhat awkward half hug to Becca, afraid he’ll make the baby cry once more. Becca rolls her eyes. “You’ll see them out?” Sam nods. He shuts the curtain behind them as they head.

As they pass the desk, Grizz stops. Gordie raises his head, stopping the discussion he and Kelly were having. “We need to talk tonight. Can you come to Allie’s around 7? After dinner?” He nods. “I’m meeting Lexie and Harry this afternoon. I’ll debrief you later.” Kelly goes to speak but Grizz walks off. He doesn’t want to get into this right now. He needs to prepare for the meeting. He’s seen Sam. He’s made sure he's fine. Now it’s time to get back into the real world and try and sort it.

He reaches the door where Sam is standing waiting, breathing deeply taking in the fresh air. Gwen is nowhere to be seen. Grizz takes a moment to just watch Sam. His eyes are shut and if he didn’t know he was deaf, he’d be sure he’s listening to the world. Maybe he’s listening to what he thinks it sounds like? Is that a stupid idea? Grizz isn’t sure.

Sensing something, Sam turns to find a concerned Grizz staring at him. “Gwen needed a pee.” He nods but still doesn’t move closer. This is the first time they’ve been alone in a while. There’s a tension between them, he’s unsure if it’s a good thing or bad. Grizz walks closer to him, standing next to him. Sam hasn’t taken his eyes off him. They’re incredibly close.

“The book was helpful.” He’s whispering. Something about right now is making everything he’s doing so loud. This right here needs to be contained. Just being here with Sam, alone, needs to be contained. Sam reaches up and touches his cheek, wiping a tear away. He was crying again. It really had been an emotional few days. Sam leans forward, standing on his tip toes, and kisses Grizz. It’s a gentle kiss, reminiscent of their first one. Grizz leans into it and Sam can feel his longing bubbling through him. It’s Grizz, however, that’s the first to pull back. He looks down, sniffing, not wanting to make eye contact with Sam, not wanting to say what needs to be said. Eventually, he looks up so Sam can read his lips. With certain words signed, Grizz bites the bullet and says what needs to be said. “I needed to see you. I really want you but you have a family. There is almost nothing I wouldn’t give to be with you but breaking up a family? No. I won’t do it. I care about you too much to make you do that.” Sam’s heart cracks with every word Grizz says but he understands and knows that ultimately he’s right. He made a commitment to Becca, to her, their, child. Biological or not, Eden is his and he needs to be there for her right now. That doesn’t mean this doesn’t hurt like hell. “I know you care about me, but you have to put everything you feel about me aside. I’m not being the hidden guy, I’m not…” He chokes, unable to speak anymore without crying his eyes out and he didn’t want Gwen to pop up and see that something is wrong. “Sam.” It’s all he can say. There’s enough emotion in that word to break a thousand hearts. There’s such a sad longing there. All they’d wanted was someone to share their life with, someone to see the best in them, someone to hold. Yet it was the wrong place and wrong time. A cliché but the truth.

“I wish it wasn’t this way.” Sam’s quiet words hit Grizz hard. He feels the air leave his lungs and the tears prick at his eyes. Much like his own anguish, Sam mirrors the emotions. They were sacrificing all of it before it could really begin but they know it’ll be worth it for the pure and innocent child that needs to be protected and cared for. Grizz rests his forehead against Sam’s, eyes shut, breathing in time with one another. Once more their lips touch, a final kiss. Goodbye.

They hear the door open. The two fly apart. Sam shuffling his feet, staring at them, hastily wiping a tear away. Whilst Grizz turns around, staring up into the clouds squinted as if he’d seen something, wiping his tears away too.

“I didn’t realise how long we were there. If we don’t leave now we’ll be late for…” Gwen trails off looking between the two. Eyebrows both raised, she is about to question it when Grizz locks eyes with her. She shuts her mouth.

‘Late for what?” Sam’s voice is hoarser than usual and Grizz has a feeling he’d rather just sign right now until his voice recovers but he didn’t have Becca to translate. Grizz glares at Gwen, who holds up her hands in defence. He swings his head towards Sam.

“A meeting with Lexie and Harry.” Sam’s face hardens. “Hey. Before you think anything, I originally didn’t want to meet with them until I’d seen Allie and Will but Helena pointed out that making demands could just throw more of us into the dog house, or wine cellar.” Gwen perked up at the subject of wine, Grizz gives her another glare. “Look, we’re going to be vague. I’m mainly going to ask about Allie and Will to see if we’re able to see them.” He lowers his voice slightly. “I’m not on their side.”

“What if they get angry and arrest you to?” Grizz had thought about it. He didn’t think it would happen, Lexie had seen how the town had reacted to Allie and Will’s arrest. He hopes she knows if she were to arrest more people, they’d think of it as a witch hunt and more than likely turn on her. He’s relying on her being smart enough to see these things. She was smart enough to run a smear campaign, she’ll be smart enough to see all this.

“I’d like to see them try” He gives a small laugh but Sam’s continued concerning gaze burrows deep and he leans a little close, hand on his forearm. He squeezes it. “It’s not going to happen.” He pulls back remembering Gwen is there. “Plus, I have Gwen here. She’ll protect me with her kind words and supportive attitude.”

“Eat a dick.” Gwen grins at him as she says it.

“Gladly.” Grizz returns the smile and focuses back on Sam. He doesn’t seem comforted but seems to have dropped the subject. “You focus on Becca and Eden. They need you right now.” He nods and they clasp each other in the friendliest hug they could manage but even then Grizz suspects it lasted longer than need be. Sam hugs Gwen goodbye and they part. Just as they turn, Grizz turns back once more. “You need to tell Becca.” Sam’s eyes go wild for a second and Grizz realises what he thinks he means. “About Allie and Will. About everything that’s going on out here.” The panic dissipates but it’s quickly replaced by a grave expression. The enormity of the issues happening around us is taking a toll, but Becca deserves to know what’s happening. She deserves to know what to expect, especially since she has a child now. Sam nods and enters back into the building. Grizz and Gwen make their way to the church. Today just will not end.

#the society #fanfic #part3 #sam x grizz #grizz x sam #protect grizz and sam #first #bored #be kind please #I WANT SEASON TWO NOW #angst #little bit #not much #just a little bit

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jerkbitchidjitassbutt · 6 years ago

Text

What If I Told You (4)

Characters: Jensen x Reader; Jared Padalecki; SPN Cast members

Summary: You and Jensen have been the closest of friends for years after meeting on the set of SPN, but what will happen when you and Jensen have a kissing scene?

Warnings: Cursing; divorce; break up; angst-ish at times, but mostly fluff.

I consider this an AU, as Jensen is divorced from an unnamed ex in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.

A/n: Here it is!! The kiss! But... This is not the last part!!!! There will be more. This is just the beginning *evil wink*

Read previous parts here! Or check out my Masterlist here!

“Dean? What’s going on? You’re scaring me.” You confessed, widening your eyes as you took a few steps forward.

“Look, I don’t know how to tell you this...” He began, placing his body in front of yours. “I—Sam and I aren’t supposed to be here... We were brought here by something. We’re from a different world, where we live in an underground bunker and hunt monsters for a living.”

You let out a short snicker, thinking he was starting some sort of joke before you took in the sincerity of his eyes, effectively shutting your mouth as he pursed his lips. “What are you talking about, Dean?” you asked, growing nervous at his exploits. This was your Dean, the man you’d been with for 7 years; through college and adulthood, single life and married. “Are you on something? Seriously? Are you drunk? Wh—what are you even talking about?” you stammered.

When he exhaled heavily, frustrated, you continued, pacing and running your fingers through your hair, “I mean, I knew you were acting different the last few days, but this is going a bit too far. If you’re trying to play some sort of trick on me, I’m not enjoying it, okay?”

“Its not a trick, sweetheart.” He said softly, pain evident in his features. He was in a world without monsters, without loss, and with you, but he couldn’t stay. His eyes glazed slightly when you backed away from him as he stepped closer, a fear and panic in your gaze. “I’d never do anything to hurt you, I swear. Not the you here or the one back home. And trust me, I’d never lie to you about something like this.” you blinked up at him, trying to decide if the man you love had literally gone insane as he rambled, “God knows its hard for me to say this... But Sam and I have to go back; we have to go back to you and our life there. Its important. We’re important there.” he said, a slightly bitter tone on the edge of his voice.

“But you’re important here too, Dean!” you exclaimed.

He nodded slowly, placing his hands on your shoulders, “I know this doesn't make sense to you, and I’m honestly not sure what’s going to happen here when we leave, but I need you to do something, okay? This is very important and I wouldn’t make you do this if it weren’t absolutely necessary, alright?”

Your nerves were palpable in your stance and the slight mist of your eyes, but you nodded anyways.

“I need you to destroy your grandfather’s pocket watch.”

“What?” you breathed in shock, “Dean, that's all I have left of—“

“I know. Really, I do. I’m so sorry, but you have to do it or something bad could happen… to me. And to the rest of our family.”

You looked at him wearily, but conceded.

He moved closer, his glorious bowlegs carrying him swiftly towards you, narrowing the distance between you to only a few inches. “But listen, Y/c/n…There’s something I need to tell you though; something I could never tell you before, in my other life, because—well, because I’m not brave enough…” he paused, reaching to brush a stray wisp of hair behind your ear.

You tried to concentrate on maintaining your character’s façade, which was sort of easy since you were supposed to be a mixture of scared and desolate, but you couldn’t help the quiver that shook through you when his fingertip traced your jaw, a ragged breath fleeing your lips.

Shit, that’s not in the script.

If Jensen noticed, he didn’t let on. A fleeting emotion swept through his gaze as he swallowed thickly, moving his arm to slide sensually around your waist as his hand cradled your cheek.

“I need to tell you how much you mean to me. I—“ he choked. “I love you. I always have, from the day that we met. I don’t dare cross this line in my real life, but I don’t know that I’ll get another chance to tell you. I love you, Y/n. I’ve always loved you.”

You knew you were supposed to speak. You’re next line hung from your tongue but went unspoken; instead, all you could manage was a strangled incoherent word, your mouth slightly parted as you gazed into your best friend’s eyes, speechless.

Jensen felt his chest tighten as he held you and felt the smoothness of your skin beneath his fingertips. The scene was supposed to progress. You were supposed to deliver another line, calling him crazy and backing away from him before he spun you towards him and planted a kiss to your lips passionately.

The script actually said passionately. Damn those writers.

You weren’t backing away, though. Your y/e/c eyes were boring into his as your chest heaved with your shallow breaths. He could easily seal his lips with yours; trace every curve of your mouth with his. His whole body begged for it, and when your eyes left his to glance at his lips, he unconsciously ran his tongue along his plump lower lip.

Your heart pounded furiously, screaming for the man in front of you. The feeling of being in his arms tore your soul into a million pieces, and when he licked his lips a flash of heat coursed through your body.

To top it off, he wasn’t backing away either. If anything, he closed the distance between the two of you further, tightening his hold around you.

Jensen waited for you to move. When you didn’t, he softly ran his thumb along the curved edge of your mouth. Slowly, torturously, he leaned down and gently grazed your lips with his.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you carefully kissed him in return. After a feather lite touch, he pulled back, keeping a strong hold of you but searching your eyes, almost desperately asking for permission.

A quick, barely noticeable nod was exchanged between the two of you before he was pressing himself against you, gripping the back of your neck with fervor as he snaked his hand into your hair. He kissed you with more need, but tenderly, allowing you to feel the strength and softness of his build as you held him to your body.

Jensen’s tongue ran across your lower lip, opening you to him as you gasped into his mouth, the warmth of him flooding your senses as you grasped his shirt in your fists. His hand traveled along the hem of your sweatshirt, lifting it slightly to press his palm into the small of your back, creating chills as the heat sunk into your skin.

Suddenly, you both pulled away slightly, chests heaving in sync.

Still in each other’s embrace, faces mere inches from each other, neither of you spoke for a moment but slowly studied one another. Jensen’s large hand remained twisted in your locks when he took in your features, the flush of your skin and your kiss-swollen lips made his head swim in fog.

His eyes shone with an emotion you couldn’t place as he tried to decipher his next move. He could continue; sweep you into his arms and trace your curves with his hands—silently confess what he’d been denying existed deep within him for fear of loosing your friendship.

You breathed a thin breath, and released your hold on the tails of his shirt, still relishing in the feeling of the fabric against your skin. His freckles danced in the dim light of your small apartment, but they couldn’t hide the shadow of rosiness that was splayed beneath them.

Speaking finally, your voice hoarse and shy, you stuttered, “I, um… I think that works—for the scene.”

Unmoving, he replied, “Yeah.” a gruffness present in his voice that made your knees go weak. “I think your right.”

.......

It wasn’t until later that night, lying awake in bed, that you’d realize that it has been your name that left his lips earlier that day.

A/n 2: I received an anon ask when I was looking for fic ideas(see below) for a Jensen x actress!reader fic a while ago, but recently got hit with a spark of inspiration. This is based off of the song “What if I Said” by Anita Cochran and Steve Wariner and will be a short mini-series. Thanks to @our-jensen-ackles-love for being my bets, and my favorite. Also there is a wife mentioned, but I purposefully left this person nameless as to not insinuate anything for Jensen’s real life.

Anonymous said: Hi! Just saw your post about looking for fic ideas. I’ve had this idea that I really like where reader is an actor on Supernatural and is friends with Jensen. They have a scene where they have to kiss or even just have to be right up in each other’s space and it makes them realize they like each other. It’s probably a common thing to write about, but I thought I’d ask anyway. Thanks!

Tagging: (this is my experimentation with my new tag list - if you don’t see your name here and have asked to be added to one of these lists, please send me an ask and I’ll get it fixed.)

What If I Told You:

@pretty-fortune @jamielea81

Forevers:

@akshi8278 @acortez82 @atc74 @berrygutz @blackcherrywhiskey@caitsymichelle13 @daydreamingintheimpalareturns @deanssweetheart23 @deanwinchesterswitch @destielshipper88 @empyreanwritings @gh0stgurl @heyitscam99 @iopenthegates @jackburtonsays @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @jfrank1048 @jotink78 @maddiepants @mrswhozeewhatsis @nerdstackular @nerdysandwichqueen @okay-okay18 @our-jensen-ackles-love @samsgirl93 @sandlee44 @spnbaby-67 @tardis-is-mine @winchester-writes @xtina2191

If you would like to be tagged in my work, please read this and send me an ask!

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stressedspidergirlsfandomblog · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter 1 -somewhat edited awaiting beta

working title: I found a reason

Curtis wakes up, feeling like something is wrong. Trying to figure out what it is, his first instinct is to check on Takashi. Rolling over, the room is pitch black, forcing him to rely on his other senses to assess the situation.

Soft, shuddering breaths fill the otherwise silent room, and Curtis carefully reaches out a hand to let it rest on his lover’s shoulder. Shiro’s whole body is rigid, the tendons standing out against straining muscles. The fabric of his sleep shirt is damp, sticking to his skin.

A nightmare, then. Although usually when they’re bad they’re accompanied by screaming, or begging. Sometimes cursing, too. “Please stop” is Curtis’ least favorite phrase in the entire world, now. He’d never thought anything would set his teeth on edge like that, but now if someone so much as starts to say ‘please’ he can feel his jaw clench waiting for the rest of the sentence.

Stroking Shiro’s hair gently, he kisses the back of his neck.

“Wake up,” he says softly. “Takashi, wake up, it’s over.” Shaking the other man awake has never gone well, and Curtis only ever does it in extreme situations. Generally only when he’s already prepared to leap from the bed before Shiro can retaliate. “C’mon,” he pleads softly, rubbing the middle of Shiro’s back and feeling the tense muscles. Shouting works sometimes, but he feels as if the people sleeping in the neighbouring apartments might not appreciate it. Thankfully the walls are well designed to muffle sound, but not much covers up yelling.

Curling tighter, Shiro whimpers in his sleep, tears slipping past tightly closed eyelids. He thinks he can hear something he never once heard during his captivity with the Galra: a kind voice. A gentle touch on his back. But it can’t be real. He’s the Champion now. Takashi Shirogane doesn’t exist there. He can’t. Takashi is weak, helpless, an explorer and pilot, not a gladiator. Takashi Shirogane had to die for the Champion to live, to succeed and make it back to Earth.

“Takashi,” Curtis says again as he pulls away, leaning over to reach his nightstand and tap the light there. Squinting a little against the addition of any light to the room, he chooses to leave it on the lowest setting. The glow is so weak it barely reaches past the nightstand. He doesn’t want to blind Takashi or himself. Not to mention if possible, he’d like to go back to sleep after this.

“Takashi, wake up,” Curtis tells him a little more firmly, but still quietly. Stroking damp hair back from Shiro’s face, he doesn’t try to do much else, yet. He’d noticed earlier that Shiro was soaked in sweat, and sighs a little. They’ll need to change the sheets again.

Curtis really has no complaints, he has nightmares of his own. A little less frequent, and frankly less horrifying overall. But they’ve both done things like puke their guts up before making it all the way to the bathroom. That had been an unpleasant night, the first time that happened. Embarrassing, too. For all now it seems like nothing.

Needing to see if his attempts to help are doing anything, he shifts to try and get a better look at the other man’s face. Leaning over Takashi carefully, he doesn’t want to get hit in the nose. Then again it would be fair; he’s hit Shiro twice now, in his sleep.

He feels his gut twist when he he sees the other man’s face crumpled in distress. Shiro’s bitten his lip in his sleep, and Curtis can not only see blood slowly filling the corners of his mouth, but also the tears slipping over the scarred bridge of his nose. Kissing Shiro’s cheek, he carefully slides behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle.

“Takashi, I’m here. It’s over, love, it’s all over. Wake up,” he says softly into Shiro’s ear. “It’s another nightmare, and I’m here, and I’m telling you it’s over. Wake up.” Kissing Shiro’s cheek, and lightly nuzzling him, gentle is always the best way. At least for Shiro. Curtis isn’t too likely to punch anyone if he’s woken up abruptly. However, the same cannot be said of him when he’s actually asleep and trapped in the throes of a nightmare. Shiro can just shake his shoulder if stroking his hair doesn’t work. For all Curtis is about to do something more drastic if Shiro doesn’t wake up soon.

Trailing his hand down to find Shiro’s, he can feel the tendons in the back of his hand standing out, fist clenched tight. Working patiently and persistently to force Shiro’s hand open, he twines his fingers in and pulls Shiro’s arm up away from his middle towards his chest. It’s a bit of a struggle, and Shiro’s breathing gets more ragged. Pressing their hands over Shiro’s heart, “This is real. I’m here. And you can be as mad as you want, but if you don’t wake up soon I’m going to dump ice water on you.” Not that he would. For all he knows that would be another trigger. Sometimes Shiro doesn’t even know something will set him off until it happens and the triggered memory paralyzes him.

The Champion hears the voice, now. It sounds fake. No one calls him Takashi anymore. Not since Matt and Sam were taken away. But someone is talking to him. Confused, he’s curled into a ball on the floor of his cell, crushed arm pressed flat against his stomach. In the last fight, the other prisoner had had some kind of mace. They’d crushed his wrist, he thinks. No medical assistance had come. If he screams, they’ll come ‘play’ with him. He has to stay quiet, has to get through the pain somehow. But that voice... he can feel his heart thundering under his palm. But his hand is around his middle, clenching the forearm of his other arm. Not metal. Flesh and blood. Strange. It should be metal, shouldn’t it?

Something applies pressure to a knot in his shoulder, and while it hurts it’s so out of touch with reality he blinks awake. Trying to quiet his breathing and slow his heartbeat, any sign of weakness can be exploited. What he’s seeing makes no sense; this isn’t his cell.

“Curtis?” Shiro whispers softly. This is Curtis’ apartment, those are his pictures of the Orion nebula on the wall. The soft dark blue sheets, cream walls, and wood nightstands -nothing like the cell the Galra kept him in. He’s safe here. The Galra are no longer their enemies. He has not been in a cell in years, and the war is over, the Coalition is gaining strength, and Earth is secure and rebuilding.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Curtis reassures him instantly, kissing the back of his neck. Not at all surprised when Shiro immediately tries to roll over to face him, he’s momentarily prevented from doing so by their interlocked hands. “You have to let go first,” he suggests, wincing a little from how tightly his partner has been gripping his fingers. Hand freed, he waits until Shiro situates himself, and takes his hand again, kissing his palm.

“Did I hurt you?” His voice shakes and he takes a few shuddering deep breaths. Speaking causes the bleeding to start afresh, and he closes his eyes at the taste of blood in his mouth, coating his teeth and tongue in a thick film. A shudder rips through him from head to toe, and he wants to spit.

“No,” Curtis tells him, exhaling in surprise. “No, you were locked in a ball. I think you hurt yourself, though,” Shifting, he props himself up on one arm, leaning over to kiss the tears off Shiro’s cheeks. Shiro just squeezes his eyes shut tighter, new tears rolling over the jagged scar bisecting his face. “It’s over now,” he reminds him. “Takashi, it’s over now.” Reaching past Shiro to grab a tissue off the nightstand, he pauses to carefully dab the blood off Shiro’s lips and the side of his cheek where it had pooled in the corner of his mouth before spilling over. He patiently waits for Shiro to talk once he’s done. He uses a thumb to smooth away more tears before kissing Shiro first on the bridge of the nose, and then the forehead.

“I,” he starts hesitantly, swallowing hard. He owes Curtis some kind of explanation, he feels. “I knew if I made a sound, they’d come in to make me scream louder,” he says softly. “I just had to stay quiet.” He shakes a little, real sobs starting to push through as he finally realizes it’s safe. They’re safe. Allowing himself to reach out and wrap his arms around Curtis, he buries his face in his lover’s shoulder. His whole body shakes with the memory of the fear, the pain, the utter helplessness of it all. “Say my name,” he bursts out suddenly. The name they tried to make him forget. He’s not the Champion anymore. He won’t ever be that person again. A shiver runs down his spine. He will never kill for sport again. In fact, if he’s ever in that situation again they can kill him. He won’t fight.

“Takashi. Takashi Shirogane,” Curtis tells him without hesitation. “Commander Shirogane, once the Black Paladin, and once Commander of the Atlas.” Then he smiles a little, pressing a gentle kiss against Shiro’s cheek. “Curtis’ boyfriend, the guy everyone calls Shiro even though it’s been setting his teeth on edge for years.

He feels more than sees Shiro smile a little, feels the soft kiss against his collarbone. Rubbing a hand in small circles on Shiro’s back, he kisses the side of his head. “You’re here, in my apartment, in my bed. We no longer live at the Garrison, and you will never ever live in a cell again,” Curtis says, his normally gentle voice turning to steel.

Shiro eases a little, reassured. His soft sobs dwindle and stop. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too, Takashi.”

“I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“I’m not. I’m always so glad when you wake me, I’m happy I get to return the favor.” He curls himself tighter around Shiro, working a bit to push his face next to Shiro’s to kiss him easier. Shiro finally pulls his face free of Curtis’ shoulder and kisses him back. He tastes like copper and salt.

Curtis idly strokes Takashi’s hair until he falls asleep, lost in thought. They haven’t really been dating all that long. But sleeping together feels natural. Then again since he started his nightly visits to the commander’s quarters on the Atlas, it’s felt more strange to try and sleep without seeing Takashi first. Not that they’d admit it, but towards the end of the mission they’d started falling asleep in the room together. And once or twice, just once or twice, they’d slept in the bed. Not quite together, but not apart either.

Considering he has nightmares of his own, it’s nice to wake up and see the other man next to him, whole and alive. He wishes it was easier for Takashi to pull himself out of the nightmares, but Curtis figures as many times as he’s had his head messed with, it’s a miracle he’s not insane. Or completely incapable of knowing fact from fiction. Thankfully, once Curtis wakes up it’s pretty obvious it was just a nightmare, and there’s nothing else to dwell on. All of his involve being buried alive, or of the endless digging in rubble and just finding bloody pieces.

Shuddering a bit, he’s surprised when Shiro shifts in his sleep, curling in closer in response to his partner’s distress. While it doesn’t wake him, his eyebrows still furrow and he doesn’t relax again until Curtis does. He hadn’t realized he’d clenched up just thinking about that day. The months... trying to rebuild and piece buildings and people back together. Letting out a soft sigh, he forces his focus away.

Kissing Takashi’s forehead gently he lets himself fall back asleep, comforted by the soft breathing and steady warmth of the man at his side.

When his alarm goes off he sighs and automatically tries to sit up to tap it off, but today he can’t. There’s a heavy weight on his chest and he feels a moment of panic before realizing the weight is Takashi. Somehow, the other man has crawled half on top of him, and also kicked half the blankets off of them both. No wonder his feet are cold. Groaning a little, he works his way out from under the other man who only starts to wake up when he’s halfway shoved onto the mattress.

“Whassat?” Shiro asks, rubbing at his eyes.

“Just my alarm,” Curtis reassures him, leaning over and tapping it off. Slipping out of bed he fixes the covers a little, picking up his blanket from off the floor with a sigh. He’d rather crawl back in bed with the beautiful man lying in it, but he has to work. Grabbing fresh underclothes and his uniform he heads into the bathroom. He’ll kick Takashi out after breakfast.

By the time he showers up and changes, Shiro has woken himself up and dragged himself into the kitchen.

“I made breakfast, I hope that’s okay,” he says, turning pink. “I should have asked first, but you were in the shower, and we didn’t talk about it beforehand…” Then under his breath, “But we were both kinda drunk and I wasn’t sure you’d even want me here at all, and-”

“Breakfast sounds great,” Curtis cuts him off before he can keep rambling. “I wouldn’t have invited you back here if I didn’t want you here. Drunk or not,” Curtis promises. Then frowns a little, “Do you regret being here?”

“What?” Shiro chokes on some water he’d been sipping. Couldn’t find any tea or coffee. He continues to splutter and choke as Curtis comes ‘round the small counter to smack him on the back a few times. “No, no, I just thought… I just thought maybe you wouldn’t… Not everyone wants to wake up next to a broken soldier,” he laughs self effacingly.

“Okay first of all, whoever called you that, I’m killing them, and then… we’ve been dating a while. And last night we said some things, and I’m kind of wondering if maybe we moved too fast? Judging by the fact you are babbling like some kind of crazy person and I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“Keith beat you to it,” Shiro says quietly, looking at the counter. Then back up at Curtis. “I meant it,” he says softly, not realizing that was their first time, and he’d had to go and say it after a nightmare like some kind of cretin. “I meant it. I don’t take it back. I’m sorry, I just. I guess I still have some trouble believing I got this lucky,” he looks away, not wanting to meet Curtis’ gaze.

“Well good, because I would have taken my time with them.” Lightly resting his hand on Takashi’s back, he squeezes his eyes shut for a second. “I don’t take it back, either. And sometimes I still feel starstruck around you, so I guess we’re even. Famous pilot. Famous paladin. Famous commander and space pioneer. Turns out you’re nowhere near as cool as I was lead to believe?”

“Mm?” he raises an eyebrow, not too sure where this is going because initially it was reassuring.

Curtis grins. “You told me you loved me, and then less than eight hours later you panicked over it. Like a teenager. We’re nearing thirty, Takashi… I think you should be able to handle dating a little better,” he teases gently, kissing the other man soundly.

“Okay, all valid points counselor, but in my defense I’ve had one boyfriend.”

Grin falling, Curtis nods a little. Adam. Who has died, and left that shadow over them. Not as if Curtis’ situation is any better. His fiance had died in the bombings. Trapped under a building. “And I’ve had three, so you’re right, I am better at this. And everything else, so we’re even. You’re extremely pretty, so you can be the trophy boyfriend, and I’ll be the brains.”

Cracking up a little, Shiro rolls his eyes and passes Curtis a bowl of oatmeal. “I couldn’t find the stuff I’d usually make, but uh, I hope it’s okay I raided the fruit…”

“That’s what it’s for, so it’s fine.” He can tell his partner has added some honey to the oat and fruit mix, and it smells good. A small taste reveals cinnamon and maybe nutmeg, too, he’s not sure, but definitely something to give it a little flavor. Kissing Shiro’s cheek again, he grins when Shiro turns his head so their noses bump. He’d never imagined the man on the bridge would be so affectionate. So willing to touch and be touched. It had gone the other way for Curtis, he couldn’t stand it. Then the loneliness had gotten to him and he’d hopped bar to bar, sleeping with total strangers with total indifference. Probably why he and Takashi haven’t been any kind of intimate yet, he can’t stand the idea of treating the other man the way he treated the other man and himself.

“Hunk taught me to make it taste better… and since dairy makes me sick, he recommended almond milk instead of water. Which you don’t have, but that’s okay I put milk in yours.”

“Oh, I can keep some almond milk around for you,” Curtis says, surprised. Now that he thinks about it, he’s never seen Takashi eat ice cream, or order a milkshake, or anything involving dairy. “I never even paid attention, I’m sorry.”

“You know all my favorite foods and drinks,” he shrugs. “I think you pay pretty good attention.”

“I just never noticed there was a trend there.”

“I mean I can just take a pill if I really want some ice cream or pizza, but the stuff I missed most was stuff from home, not….” he trails off, then spoons up a mouthful of oatmeal to avoid talking more. He just is not acting smoothly this morning at all.

“Japan, you mean?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, voice muffled by the food in his mouth.

“We should visit,” Curtis says with a half shrug, not thinking much of it. Then he realizes he’s more or less proposed a relatively involved vacation with the man he’s only been dating a few months. Formally dating anyway. They’ve known each other a while. “Obviously not now, or not at all if you don’t want to,” he backpedals.

Grinning a little, at least it’s not just him who puts his foot in his mouth sometimes. “Maybe. I don’t know how welcome I’d be some places, but. Overall it should be fine. The ‘Japanese’ food you can get around the Garrison is nothing like the real thing, just so you know.”

“What, you mean the Filipino guy making my Chinese style stir fry at the local Korean-Japanese fusion restaurant isn’t authentic?”

Snorting, he’s glad he’d managed to swallow the oatmeal before it came out his nose. He laughs, shaking his head a little. “I happen to like that restaurant,” he adds mock defensively.

“I do, too, obviously or I wouldn’t eat there,” Curtis points out, eyes dancing with laughter. “I gotta head out in a few here, you almost done?” he asks, getting up and rinsing his bowl out before stacking it in the dishwasher.

“Yeah, ‘m good.”

“Always, but, Takashi?”

“Mm?”

“Maybe don’t leave in your pajama pants?”

“Quiznak!” his eyes widen and he looks down. Well, he’d remembered to change shirts. Stuffing his mouth with the last few bites, he rinses the bowl and stacks in it by Curtis’ as he rushes into the bedroom to drag on his jeans and toss the pants in the direction of the hamper. Considering this hadn’t been a planned sleepover, he’d borrowed clothes from Curtis. They’re around the same size. Curtis is a little taller, but Shiro’s a little more muscular. Either way the shirt and pants had been comfortable. Rushing back out, he automatically pats his back pocket, checking for his comm and wallet. It feels strange carrying those things around again.

“Ready?” Curtis asks, small work bag slung over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m good, I’m sorry!”

“Slow down space-boy, I’m not gonna be late or anything,” he laughs, as Shiro half bolts to the door, heading over quickly to tap the elevator button and looking back at him guiltily. “It’s no big deal.”

When the elevator finally comes up, Shiro’s glad it’s empty. Their relationship, and being out… in the world still feels strange. Not wrong, he doesn’t feel guilty about it. It’s just that his life is so much more public now. He and Adam had just been… private. Sure, they were out, and everyone knew they were a couple. It was just, no one outside the Garrison knew anything about them. Yes, the Garrison published flight records and stats, but that’s all Shiro was to the outside world. Some numbers and an ID photo. And sure, he’d also done some promotional interviews or visited a few schools, but it’s nowhere near the same thing or the same kind of popularity and hounding he faces now. Quite frankly he hates being seen in public and often wears a disguise of some kind to avoid being bothered.

Pidge stays on base a lot, now that her entire family also works there, Hunk is currently up in space building his culinary empire. Shiro misses him a lot more than he’d anticipated. Keith is off-world with the blade, but he’s in touch. Lance acts as Earth’s official ambassador to Altea, while Coran is Altea’s ambassador to the Coalition. So Lance tends to travel between the planets a lot. Currently he’s probably with his family, he had missed them horribly in space and enjoys catching up with them. Sometimes he visits the Garrison. Keith typically won’t, even when invited. Not that Shiro really has gone back since, either. Too many stares.

“You realize we’re alone in an elevator, and you’re staring at your shoes, right?” Curtis asks him gently, squeezing his hand. “You okay?”

“What? Oh! Yeah I’m okay, sorry. I just lost my hat last night, and I was thinking about how annoying it was going to be going home.”

“This hat?” Curtis asks, dragging it out of his uniform pocket.

“What the hell….?”

“I found it on the floor this morning and I wasn’t too sure if it was yours or not because I can’t remember you wearing one. And I was pretty hammered, so I figured I could have taken it from someone on accident or maybe someone just gave it to me.”

“Well. Thanks,” Shiro says taking it back. Putting it on, he squeaks when Curtis flips it around and kisses him. Wrapping his arms around the other man and leaning back into the metal of the elevator so he can keep his balance, he kisses back contentedly. When they reach the last floor, Curtis flips his hat back around, tips his head to give him one last kiss and darts out of the elevator. He knows how much Takashi hates when people stop them, and it’s easier if they leave separate. Or at least try to.

He makes it to his car unmolested, and glances back to see his partner ducking around a group with his head down and hands stuffed in his pocket. There’s really no hiding that oversized arm, though. Or the blue glow, not even under fabric really. Shaking his head in amusement when Shiro ducks down a side alley, he knows he’ll make it home safe.

By the time he makes it back to his own apartment, he’s dodged several gaggles of fans, and quite a few reporters and paparazzi. Asking questions he can’t answer. Half the time because he doesn’t know, the other half because it’s too painful and it’s no one’s business. How did you lose the arm Shiro? Clenching his jaw as he palms the lock to his room, he slumps against the door when it wooshes shut.

Now what to do with himself all day? Right, there’s a gym inside his building. That could take up a few hours. At least until lunch.

He changes into workout clothing, sleek black pants that wick moisture, and a matching top. Honestly he feels like he’s wearing the undersuit for his paladin armor when he wears this specific set of workout gear. The collar is a little high around his neck, but not as high as the suit was. Looping the thumb hole over his flesh hand, he sighs at the prosthetic. Why can’t he just have an arm like his old one? He presses open the door to the power source to stare at Allura’s crystal for a few minutes, before he snaps out of it, shuts the little hatch and heads down to the gym.

It feels like crap trying to lift weights with one overpowered arm, and the muscles in his back ache from trying to compensate. Giving up pretty quickly, he hops on the treadmill and turns up the incline to mimic pavement. A few miles in and he’s sweating and gasping for air. It’s a hard adjustment, the lower gravity in space, the different oxygen levels… he’d rather be out running at a park or something anyway. Slowing down the speed before eventually just stepping off, maybe he can work on his legs. Either way he’s warmed up, so he stretches out and then goes over to the other machines, losing himself in the give and take of the weights for a while.

At some point he realizes he’s not moving anymore, his legs are too shaky to do another rep. Sighing, he wobbles his way free of the squat machine and sits on a bench, giving his body a few seconds to breathe. Shifting to the floor to stretch again before the muscles cramp he forces himself up after and uses the wall for support so he can drink from the fountain. Thank god he doesn’t have to go up stairs if he doesn’t want to, there’s a lift in his building. He’s not sure he’d make it up to the sixth floor.

Full of water and remorse, he drags his way back to his apartment for a hot shower and lunch. Some microwaveable meal, he doesn’t feel like cooking.

Having some time off has been good, but it’s also infuriating because he can’t just live his life. And he hasn’t decided what kind of career paths he might want to take, especially seeing as how he doesn’t have to work for money, so there’s no real incentive to get off his ass and do anything when being miserable is so much easier. For all Curtis is indeed a bright spot in his life right now.

Turning on the holo, he watches a few hours of mindless programming before finding a channel that plays vintage sci-fi shows. It promises several hours of the old series affectionately abbreviated down to TOS. Getting up he almost falls his legs are so tired. “Quiznak.” Deciding it’s still worth it to make popcorn for the episode marathon, he drags himself into his kitchen and shoves a packet in the microwave.

When that’s done, the sound of tiny little corn explosions making him grit his teeth, he settles back on the couch to snack and watch for however many hours he can. He had other friends before all of this. People he could have spent time with. But now they’re dead, or missing presumed dead. Half annoyed at how pathetic he’s let himself be, he’s also too tired to really do anything about it.

Technically there’s nothing wrong with his life. He eats relatively well balanced meals, hydrates, works out, and tries to log around eight hours of sleep a night. He is dating, which means technically he has a social life. “Oh not the brain episode,” he complains to himself, tossing a piece of popcorn at the screen. “I hate that episode.” This would be more fun if Keith was around. Or literally anyone. His legs are too tired to carry him to the bed or he’d just turn it off and go to sleep rather than deal with it. But since he’s stuck out here anyway, he might as well keep watching.

When his comm pad starts beeping he starts awake, knocking the now empty popcorn bag off his chest. The holo is playing something trying to sell some kind of space knives, and his neck is so stiff he can barely turn his head.

Grabbing the pad up off the little coffee table he groans when he sees the time as he swipes to answer. “Hello?” he asks groggily. The sun’s not even up yet.

“Shiro?”

“Coran?”

“I was hoping you could give me a ride from the space port? It looks like whoever the Garrison was supposed to send didn’t show.”

“Uh, yeah I can do that. Everything okay?”

“I am enjoying a…” there’s some muttering in the background and Shiro rolls his eyes. “A tiramisu cake. It’s very good. Along with something this lovely vendor is calling an espresso.”

Clapping his palm to his forehead, that is the last thing he needs at 04:00 hours. Caffeinated aliens. Changing into something that isn’t covered in popcorn grease and the little shells, he grabs his hat and aviators before stepping into his shoes and heading out the door. His legs ache from the abuse he’d put them through the day before. Groaning internally at each step, he heads to the elevator and punches in P1.

He has a car in the building’s garage for all he rarely uses it. Muttering to himself the entire way as he unlocks it, gets in, and drives to the port, he’s not sure he can handle Coran speeding on coffee right now. But he supposes he’ll have to. It doesn’t occur to him to wonder why Coran is there, or what might have gone wrong that no one was there to pick him up.

“Hey, I’m here, what gate are you at?” Shiro taps into the pad once he pulls up. He groans when rather than text back Coran calls.

“I am at the 10th gate, I believe. Arrivals, let me see here, 10C Dash A.”

“10C-A, got it. Alright I’ll be there in a few ticks.”

Coran blinks at his comm when it goes dark, the call cancelling almost immediately. “Hm, I certainly don’t remember him ever being so grumpy.” Bouncing on the balls of his feet a bit, he’s excited to see the former paladin, and always is happy to visit Earth for a bit. Run into the Holts at the Garrison and other old friends from the Atlas. When he sees Shiro pull up he waves broadly, going up on tiptoes so there’s no way the earthing could miss him.

Rolling his eyes under the sunglasses, he leans over and pops the door open once he’s pulled flush with the curb. “No luggage?” he asks.

“Already sent to the Garrison. Without me, I’m afraid.”

“Weird.”

“Yes, quite. How are you?”

“I’m good, it’s good to see you,” Shiro forces a quick smile. “Let’s get you over there and see what’s going on, okay?”

“Sounds good,” Coran agrees pleasantly. “So what have you been up to since you chose to acquit yourself of the Garrison?”

“Not much, resting, I guess. Reading a lot. Y’know, the normal things you do, I guess.”

“Any thoughts to the future?”

“Not really,” he says, for all he turns red thinking about Curtis. They’re not really at that point where he’s sure it’s in his future, but they feel so right together. Even with his life feeling so empty and stupid right now. Half the time he can’t sleep, imagining he can still hear pacing outside his cell and it’s another mind trick the Druids came up with to break him down further. But in reality he had dreamed of Adam coming to save him, not Curtis. He’d barely known Curtis from any other junior officer at the time. The metallic stomp of the droids walking up and down the halls, up and down. Over and over.

“You alright there, Shiro?”

“Huh?” he asks, realizing he’s white-knuckling the steering wheel and hasn’t heard anything Coran’s said for the past few minutes. “Sorry, it’s just really early and I stayed up late, I’m sorry Coran,” he apologizes sincerely. “I am glad to see you, I’d just be more alert if it was later in the day,” he forces a weak chuckle.

“Fair enough then, it’s well after midday on Altea right now, so I’m wide-awake. If you’d caught me when I first launched out here, however, I’d be just as tired as you are now. Would you like it if I stopped pestering you?”

“What? No, no it’s fine. It’s not a long drive, and I can just go back to sleep once we get back. Don’t worry about it. How’re the Alteans doing?”

“They’re coming along quite nicely! I think we might have a few with the gift to be alchemists, but I unfortunately don’t have anything to teach them. Another thing we’ve lost, I suppose. But! We are seeing plenty of children learning their culture and their history, and the adults, too!”

“Has Romelle finally learned how to curse properly?” Shiro teases, glad the conversation is back in safer waters. For all it feels like a knife to the heart to hear about the alchemists. Allura could have taught them so much. He bites his lip for a second to ground himself, and then nods along to Coran’s tales of Altean misadventures.

He tunes back in about when the gates appear in view, to hear “Hunk stopped by recently, not sure how long ago, honestly, but he shared with us some Altean recipes he’d been trying. We’ve been working on perfecting them ever since. I brought some with me, but they’re with my travel gear. Never fear! I will save some for you if you’d like!”

“That’d be great Coran, thanks,” he says pleasantly. Pulling up to the gates, “This is where I leave you. I’ll make sure your clearance codes work before I drive off, though, I promise,” he laughs.

“Fair enough!” Coran agrees cheerfully.

Shiro breathes a sigh of relief when seconds after Coran types in the code, the gates start to open. He gives Coran a little mocking salute, sees it returned, and backs up the car to find more space to turn it around and head home.

He finds out later via exuberant voicemail that one of the cadets incorrectly input the time zones, and dispatched someone three hours after Coran had arrived. Even though Shiro had already dropped him off. Thankful it was nothing serious, he drops off to sleep for a while.

When he wakes up, his mouth is dry. Rubbing at his face, he gets up and heads into the kitchen and sets his comm down on the counter to pour some water before situating himself on the couch for a continuation of the TOS marathon. Apparently this is a daily event that cycles through all the episodes until it hits the end and then restarts.

When the intrepid captain is captured and forced to battle some sort of space lizard Shiro internally winces, rubbing at his non-existent shoulder. Having forgotten it's just oversized metal now, he starts and then stares. Right. Well at least there's no more scars from double rows of teeth across his shoulder, he supposes. The thing had bit him from behind and he had put his thumb through its eye before it would let go. Nothing else had worked. He'd tried so many things before he did that.

Gotten a grip on its lip, and had literally ripped a chunk away along the gumline. All that had done was make it bleed viscous yellow fluid and look even scarier. Ripping open a nostril hadn't worked either, he'd been trying so hard to get any kind of purchase on the scales… finally he'd just reached back and gouged out its eyes.

He'd thrown up later, sick from the feel of the eye bursting under his fingertips, and from pain. He can't bring himself to eat grapes anymore and they used to be one of his favorite snacks.

After a few more episodes he eases into sleep.

In the arena, sometimes he has the option simply to win. Sometimes the stadium screams for blood and he is forced to kill. Forced to behead his opponent, or in the rare cases that fails, find some other way to serve a fatal blow.

This alien is humanoid. Not much larger than he is. Its skin is soft like suede under his fingers when he reaches out to rip at the flesh, seeking to cause damage any way possible. They didn't give him a weapon, they expect him to take it. But it's not as if he needs it. That's half the fun for the Galra. See how the human will kill without a weapon. Can he do it injured? How long can the human go without food and still reign as Champion?

He has a feeling this alien doesn't enjoy this any more than he does. He's kept in isolation. Too violent to be trusted among the other prisoners. Bloodthirsty. Then again he had been provoked.

No, don't let your mind wander. It has knives.

One scores along his arm, moments of distraction costing him reaction time. Anger curls low in his stomach. Another scar. Another awful battle etched into his flesh. He'll never be allowed to forget. Assuming he lives long enough to get home.

Rage and fear fuel him as he lunges desperately forward, locked in a desperate struggle for the dagger. Finally he wrests it away, hands, arms, torso all bleeding from a plethora of shallow cuts. Slashing wildly backwards with it, he scores deep, the blade catching in bone. Blood sprays across his face, hot and thick. It half blinds him. This time the alien blood is oddly sweet. He spits but can't avoid the taste coating his teeth and tongue. He blinks rapidly, trying to clear his vision, and jerks his head back on pure instinct raising his arm and-

Wakes up on the floor, heart pounding. He'd won that fight by putting his dagger through the roof of her mouth. Remembering the smell of the blood, the taste, the oily sensation of it… Shiro manages to roll over before he vomits.

Forcing himself up from the floor, the blue light from his arm reveals he hasn't eaten much. Trying to get to his feet he doubles over when his gut cramps and he heaves again. This time nothing but acid comes up, burning his throat on the way. Coughing and retching he struggles for air before getting himself under control.

The mess is on laminate, and he looks at it dispassionately. He feels like he's still splattered with blood. Finally on his feet he stumbles to the bathroom and turns the water on. Frantically peeling off sweaty clothes he lets them drop in a heap and steps into the spray. He doesn't even wait for the water to warm all the way, the need is so imperative. He has to wash the blood off.

Being clean is a luxury. Occasionally the Galra permitted him to bathe. More often they just hosed down the cells with the occupants inside. He could never get to the panel in the ceiling to pull it down. No way to get any leverage. Even when it was open and spraying water he couldn't figure out a way to take advantage other than to try and scrub off as much foulness as possible before it was too late and the water stopped. Sometimes it was the only drink he got that day.

At some point he can't stand anymore, violent shaking overtaking him. Drawing his knees to his chest, he is so thankful the water in the shower sounds nothing like the water in his cell. Not to mention it's warm. Head dropped to his knees, the next thing he knows he's tipping over and the water is ice cold.

He's so chilled his limbs are numb, not to mention everything's fallen asleep. Turning the water off with his metal hand, the flesh one is too cold to grip. He can't stand, not really, and drags himself over the lip of the tub to sprawl in an ungraceful heap on the bathmat. Teeth chattering, he gets ahold of his towel, taking advantage of the unfeeling metal to dry himself off. Cold and heat don't affect something that has no sensation. Mostly dry, he manages to stand and staggers into his bedroom.

You're Broken. Useless. Worthless.

Crawling under the blankets he drags them around himself, huddling into a ball. He imagines if he was shaking any harder he'd vibrate into another plane of existence.

He wakes up some time later, not sure what time of day it is. But in space it hadn't mattered. No reason it should now, he has nowhere he has to be.

When his memory slowly trickles in, he reddens even though there's no one to see. He hates the scars on his body. They're gruesome. A record of his kills. His perfect record of winning and murdering anyone who got in his way. A reminder he found the winning in and of itself satisfactory. Or at least The Champion did. The Galra washed Takashi Shirogane away in a sea of blood. The Champion lived in his place. No joy, no happiness, just grim determination. He would win. He would do whatever was necessary, and he would go home to warn them the Galra were coming.

Takashi Shirogane had been soft, weak; an explorer and pilot. He had thought some martial arts training and some Garrison mandated arms training would keep him safe. He was strong. He had to be, with a disease rotting him from the inside out. But he could never have survived the horrors the Galra inflicted on him. The cutting, slicing, dicing, starving, beating, shocking, dismembering agony was too much. The Champion however, held onto it and more. Although the line between them blurred more and more over time. He couldn't keep all the horror and pain locked away forever. Especially now that things were peaceful and he had no all consuming mission keeping him focused.

After he dresses and heads out into the kitchen for cleaning supplies and water, figuring he should probably handle that before it gets worse. His comm is occasionally emitting a soft beep and the notification light pulses every so often. Lifting it up he sees a missed call and a few messages.

01600 Want to meet after work for dinner?

1630

1730

Not to be that guy, but usually you answer in about 15 minutes, we don’t have to meet up, but let me know you’re okay. You don’t owe me prompt responses this just feels weird.

1830 Missed call. Voicemail transcript:

I’m sure you think I’m a freak, so I hope you’ll forgive me anyway. Maybe your comm is dead, or you’re asleep, or just busy. That’s fine, I just get antsy. You can ask Veronica. So many people went missing that I kind of can’t help getting nervous. Not your problem, ugh, I’m awful at this… Anyway. If you think I’m unstable and freaky that’s fair. I won’t blame you. Uh, if it’s all a big misunderstanding we could do dinner tomorrow? Ugh...sorry. I’ll stop making an absolute ass of myself now.

Shiro smiles at the comm a little. He feels guilty, he hadn’t even realized. And quickly taps out a response:

0230

Sorry! You’re not a freak. Well, maybe a little. I fell asleep and then showered and went to bed and didn’t realize my comm was in the kitchen. Never heard or saw it. (1/2)

Dinner tomorrow sounds great. We can try that new fusion place Hunk helped start? Unless you had something different in mind? If i don’t answer just come by. (2/2)

0231

Really sorry I worried you. If the situation was reverse I’d be worried, too. See you at 1700 tomorrow? Srsly if I fall asleep again just come wake my stupid ass up.

0530

Glad you’re OK. Sorry I was a freak. Will definitely come break your door down as requested.

0532

Joking about the door. Promise.

0800

That’s good. The landlord might not appreciate it. I will change early so worst case all you have to do is knock and I’ll wake up ready to leave.

1200

Then your clothes will look all wrinkled like you slept in them. Am I not worth looking nice for?

1202

Repayment for the voicemail.

1204

Fair enough.

1207

I will just lay clothes out… just for you… this once.

1210

It’ll be worth it.

1211

I hope so.

(So... this has been a p fucking awful time for me in general, so if anyone would like to comment (instead of just writing feels in the tags I might never see) that would be great. Please brighten my day. Also for the like.. 3??? people who read the prologue, do you think the story needs more between this and that, or is it workable? What’s awkward, what works? this started out as a series of headcanons turned drabbles turned nightmare bullcrap you’re reading... so... help?)

#curtashi #shurtis #curo #takashi shirogane #curtis #voltron #vld #vld shiro #my fic #i found a reason

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awesomedaniloa · 6 years ago

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Elting had created "irreparable"

asus bring the energy back to pcs and hardware For a really useful breakdown of social media usage by demographics follow this link.. Now focused on some of the most energetic processes in the universe, for short periods of time a supernova can generate enough visible light to outshine entire galaxies made up of billions of stars.USA TODAYWhy a NY businessman (and his mom) are still attacking Delaware and Joe BidenChancery Court Chancellor Andre Bouchard ruled that infighting between the company founders and ex fiances Phil Shawe and Liz Elting had created "irreparable" harm to TransPerfect employees and clients. And some sort of controversy has dogged Ronaldo practically every time that he's won.. But at the same cheap yeezy shoes time, this inexpensive food is coming to us at a high cost. Cut out the middleman and offer customers lower prices than that of retailers. Such a situation already exists among internet service provider companies, which have essentially colluded to carve up the United States different regions so that they can exploit and profit each with maximum efficiency while avoiding investing in infrastructure except at a bare minimum. About UsNeed to freshen up your look, fellas? The Basico boutique has your back. However that has changed with fashionistas like Kangana Ranaut and Shraddha Kapoor sporting entirely neutral looks. As difficult as it may be to accept, it is a fact that not everyone has the body to wear a dress with a shiny fabric and sequins. In today world in which children are practically born with a smartphone in their hands, the odds are automatically stacked against brands competing with world wide superstars.. It sucks worse when you have to maneuver your way past muscle bound blocks of aggression waiting in line for the weights or slink into the back of a cardio class to avoid group humiliation (who knew triathletes could side eye so well?). Many still think more asphalt or public transport will help us out. Problem with final walkthrough Anything you discover that was not detected during the home inspection is likely going to be on you. The cord, in other words, is counterfeit almost certainly meaning inferior materials and/or design using the CSA sticker to masquerade as the real thing.That would make it one of countless counterfeit products from car parts to sneakers to pharmaceuticals plaguing the marketplace."It's a big issue and it's happening rapidly in this country," says Wayne Edwards, chair of the Canadian Anti Counterfeiting Network (CACN) and vice president of Electrical Safety with the Electro Federation fake yeezys for kidsCanada, a national association of electrical, electronics and telecommunications companies.Counterfeit goods, says Edwards, are part of a $500 billion business worldwide. The store will celebrate its opening with a very fashionable fete two nights earlier, on Wednesday, Aug. Adidas shares, which soared to an all time high last week when it released strong headline quarterly figures and raised its 2016 outlook, were up 0.9 percent at 0724 GMT, compared with a slightly weaker German blue chip index. But this ignores the fans on the margins, the ones who turn the NFL from the most popular sport in America to the most popular thing in America. Alongside the free broadband offer for its landline subscribers, BSNL on Friday announced "free voice calling" within India for its existing landline, broadband, and mobile subscribers. What if you plugged, say, a slow cooker into it and went for a walk? "Maybe it would burn your house down. They fought often, and bitterly, sometimes ending in Bodo getting kicked out of the house for short stints. His mortgage payment, including taxes and insurance, ends up costing him $1,600 per month. I've seen people be required to tear down half, or all, of their house because of permitting issues. Like, what about a 32 ounce bottle of human scent killer? You know people will be food, right? Just go start the countdown, you amateur.Napoleon Bonaparte allegedly wrote his mistress to arrange a love tryst, saying, "I'm coming home please don't wash." The magic word behind lust is pheromones, those elusive, odorless chemicals given off in response to sexual stimulation or even romantic fantasy. Body scanners and software are being be used to make more precise standard measurements that are then assembled in a largely automated process.. "The nice thing, in this neighborhood, is that in the 15 years that we've opened this center, there has been a 55% decrease in crime in the Amani neighborhood," said Schneider. As well as selling clothing, the company also owns hair salons and music labels which all help to compliment the brand. IKEA and The Socializers have esentially created their own version of the BI software, with emphasis on E Commerce and Market Intelligence, it would be interesting to see developments in mobile technology data extraction, Cheap Fake Yeezys as the industry matures.. Her superb support of the management team and temporary teaching staff during the incredibly busy Business Management English Presessional programme last summer obtained considerable praise. But, actually that not correct the ISP can only see the domain part the rest (everything after that first slash) is actually encrypted and the ISP cannot see it (see picture).. Though the app is available for all models, the Nike watch also has a colorful wristband sporting holes to help sweat dry. After one of Sam's mega size sandwiches ($11.99 for pastrami or corned beef, $.99 more for lean; $12.99 for brisket), diners could use the walk.Carb cravers, head to Little Havana.

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brightephemera · 6 years ago

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fandom meme lotr!

Whoo-ee!

SPOILERS THROUGHOUT TOLKIEN’S LEGENDARIUM.

the first character i ever fell in love with:

Aragorn son of Arathorn. I thought he was the coolest guy ever.

a character that i used to love/like, but now do not:

I mean, I thought Feanor was pretty badass, but look where that ended. Also the Kinslaying D:

a ship that i used to love/like, but now do not:

I have nothing against the ships.

my ultimate favorite character™:

Boromir. He comes into the Council of Elrond so young, so brash, so arrogant, and yet at the same time he’s the only veteran of the forward war against Sauron. (Not saying the others haven’t fought Sauron’s servants in varying capacities. But as far as he knows or understands, he’s been on the front lines since earliest manhood and they’re sitting in a comfy living room a zillion leagues from the truth of Sauron’s power.) And he is young, and brash, and arrogant, speaking to his elders a thousand times over, making his decision, throwing in his lot, fully ready to take command because he knows the threat and he is not afraid. He was forged in war and maybe he had to die in war, but his courage and his passionate desire to protect his people by any means available demands respect.

Sam’s good too.

prettiest character:

They tell me it’s between Arwen and Galadriel, and between morning and evening I like the morning, so Galadriel’s it.

my most hated character:

I mean, Morgoth’s pretty unforgivable. The sheer hate he spews just because he wants to be the biggest and bestest with the most sway over reality...ass. Manwe “we could save the world but let’s dick around in the uttermost West and let the humans figure it out” is up there.

my OTP:

Beren/Lúthien. He’s all heroic and stuff, and she? She’s pretty and she can weave and dance and disguise and oh yeah face down the Lord of Hell-on-Earth without breaking a sweat. They deserve all the love they can win.

my NOTP:

Feanor/having nice things.

favorite episode:

Unsurprisingly, i liked the release of “Beren and Lúthien.” Some really cool early draft stuff there, and plenty more to fill out this wonderful Silmarillion chapter.

saddest death:

Arwen’s death after Aragorn passed gutted me. Worst of all, though, is Edith Tolkien: “In those days her hair was raven, her skin clear, her eyes brighter than you have seen them, and she could sing – and dance. But the story has gone crooked, & I am left, and I cannot plead before the inexorable Mandos.”

favorite season:

The Lord of the Rings remains the largest finished work in the legendarium and I love it, from Bilbo’s farewell party to Sam’s homecoming.

least favorite season:

I wasn’t really excited about the interminable exploits of Tar-Aldarion in the Unfinished Tales. Then he got another ship. And sailed it. Then came home. And got another ship. And sailed it. And...

character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but i hate:

Here I show my ignorance. Do people like Arwen? I always felt her book presence was practically insignificant.

my ‘you’re piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave:

Denethor, you were an absolutely fantastic character and it’s a crying shame you had to go crazy and die.

my ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave:

Faramir. A hundred times Faramir.

my ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship:

Gollum’s entire existence.

my ‘they’re kind of cute, and i lowkey ship them, but i’m not too invested’ ship:

Eowyn/Faramir? “I’m royal, you’re royal, let’s go be royal”? But I think he had the right mind to keep from pushing her into another cage, and she had the right heart to prepare for rulership, so there’s that.

#bright fandom meme #bright memes #bright lord of the rings #tolkien spoilers #lotr spoilers

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granpafrisbee · 6 years ago

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Truth or Dare Part 2

Summary: After going to Italy and avoiding any romantic relationships for pretty much all her life Joey comes back to the U.S. to move in with her life-long best friend, Sam Wilson, and his two closest friends from college. Joey’s met Steve but is apprehensive to meet the elusive Bucky, whom she’s always missed despite having visited Sam consistently throughout college. Once she meets him, however, she wonders how she’ll be able to run from love when they share a bathroom.

Warnings: Cussing, discussion of sexual themes

Word Count: 5001

Pairings: Bucky x OFC

Masterlist

the AO3

Part 1

A/N: The song You and Me by Penny and the Quarters is really important to this chapter and me! Give it a listen. The first chapter and this one were meant to be one chapter but it was too long, just know that was my intention.

Let me know if you enjoy/if anyone wants to be tagged.

Stay sexy

The group sits in the living room, and Joey thinks they fill up the space nicely. The giant sectional holds Thor, whose arm is naturally draped around Bruce. Steve, Sam, and Nat sit next to them, while Clint is perched on the edge making Bucky laugh. Bucky is next to the couch in the recliner Joey found a few years back, everyone who sits in it claims it’s the most comfortable seat to ever exist. Shuri is next to him in a comfy armchair Sam’s mom gave him. Pietro and Joey opt to sit on the floor even though there's room on the enormous couch and more chairs to pull up. Joey doesn’t mind and she doesn’t know Pietro that well so this gives her the opportunity to talk to him somewhat privately.

Everyone is on their second, or fourth if your Thor, beer when Sam announces, “Alright in honor of our first night in the loft, I am proposing a toast.” He stands and raises his bottle, “Now this is officially one of the four times a year I’m going to be nice, so listen up children. I am inexplicably grateful for the family I have found myself a part of. To our visitors, thank you for taking time out of your very busy schedules to be here tonight. Steve, thank you for being my brother since freshman year, I don’t know how we all got so lucky to have you in our lives. Bucky, despite your horrible appearance and lack of personality, brother you, sometimes, are bearable. I know that is all due to my influence and I can only hope to rub off on your more.” Bucky’s smile is bright and genuine. Despite the backhanded nature of the comment, he picks up on the emotions behind it and he winks in Sam’s direction. “And to Joey, I’m never really home without you there. To my sister. Cheers!”

Everyone toasts with a wide smile, but Bucky is most dazzled by Joey’s. She’s not showing teeth, in fact, only the right side of her mouth is turned up. But as she tips her drink to Sam across the room, Bucky sees the love she has for the other man in every inch of her face. He almost wants to cry when he sees Steve watching Sam and Joey too. They exchange a glance, probably mirroring the way Sam and Joey looked at each other. Everyone but the four of them seems to fade away and as he looks around he feels it. Home.

Joey, on the other hand, feels a slight panic come over her. It’s not a foreign feeling, the innate sense of not belonging. Of worrying about being the outsider, but when she looks at Sam she feels that comfort that grounds her again. It brings her back.

People settle back down and Bucky feels too weirdly emotional to be just sitting there. He stands with his beer raised, “I too have a declaration.” Attention turns to him.

“Oh come on Jackass, don’t step on my moment,” Sam huffs out.

“I declare that we should play truth or dare.”

A chorus of groans and no’s follow. He even hears a, “What are we twelve?” coming from Nat’s direction.

Then a single word comes from the floor, “Yes.” Joey nods her head, “Absolutely yes. Come on, we aren’t elderly. Plus I’ve been in Italy for two years, it’ll help me catch up.”

“Sweetheart, you are so right. C’mon guys, play for our lovely ignorant Italian.” Bucky sits back down.

Thor nods his head and gets up to grab more beer, “I’m in. I will never step down from a drinking game.”

“How is truth or dare a drinking game?” Steve’s questions.

Joey answers, “If you don’t to the dare/truth you drink, also often a dare can be to drink. Steve, you’re an art major, get creative.”

Thor returns with more beers for everyone while Clint and Pietro agree to join.

“I’ll play but I don’t feel like drinking,” Shuri declares.

Everyone’s eyes drift to the couch where Bruce, Sam, Steve, and Nat sit all with skeptical looks etched into their faces.

Thor whispers something in Bruce’s ear and after a second or two of consideration Bruce grabs his beer from the coffee table, “I’m in.”

“Fine,” Sam, Nat, and Steve all relent at once.

“Who’s going first?” Pietro inquires.

Sam leans forward, “Why not the grandmaster himself? Bucky, why don’t you start us off?”

“I’d love to Samantha.” His eyes scan the other players and he holds Joey’s gaze for the longest. That act makes her think he’s going to pick her but at the last second, he turns back to Sam. “Well, Wilson, truth or dare?”

Sam leans back into the couch with his arm crossed behind his head, the picture of serenity, “Truth.”

“A coward’s move Sammy,” Clint chuckles.

“Not true-” “Actually-” Bucky and Joey say at the same time. They both stop to let the other finish.

“You explain to the novice, Darlin’,” Bucky relents with a smile.

His tone is so cocky that she can’t help the tightening of her brows in response. She turns to Clint, “A truth can be just as, if not more, dangerous than a dare. I’m sure you have plenty of secrets Barton. Not to mention a dare can be used as a vehicle for truth. ‘I dare you to tell me…’ It’s a classic strategy.”

“I stand corrected, carry on Master Barnes.” Clint bows slightly to Joey.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself, thank you, Doll.” Bucky smirks at Sam, “What is your most embarrassing sexual exploit?”

Clint and Pietro make an oooooh noise while Sam rolls his eyes, “Barnes, you have a masters degree.”

“Thus making me all the more qualified to come up with the most audacious dares and exposing truths. Answer, or take the cowards way out,” Bucky responds motioning to Sam’s beer.

Sam lets out a huff of annoyance and looks to Joey. She makes a face that plainly reads that she’s not helping him out of this one. So he begins, “I’m eighteen, and this girl, Lola, who I’ve been in love with since middle school finally starts giving me the time of day. She’s gorgeous, full-figured, dark-skinned-”

“She had double-d’s since middle school,” Joey adds.

“She also never talks to other guys, never even pays attention to them and they were all trying to get with her so hard.” Natasha hums a little bit and she and Joey share a smirk.

“So finally she starts flirting with me occasionally, and I play it real cool you know, like I haven’t been waiting six years for her to just smile at me. Soon she asks if I want to go to the movies and I’m like, ‘Yeah, I like movies.’” Deepening his voice for his past self, ”So we go see some dumb 2012 superhero movie, and I’m just watching her the whole time, but she’s pretty invested and I assume it’s ‘cause of all the shirtless guys or whatever.”

Natasha hums again.

Sam ignores her and continues, “So the movie ends and we haven’t touched each other once, but I’m just glad to be anywhere near her at the point, I don’t care. She then is all,” Sam makes his voice higher as he imitates Lola, “ ‘Are your parents home? And I say, ‘Nah my mom’s got the night shift, what you wanna do next baby?’ So we go back to my house and I put on my Marvin Gaye because I knew how to treat a lady right. Finally, she lets me start kissing her neck and eventually she’s fully naked and I’m going down on her, like a champ might I add. So I’m doing it and she after a while fully fakes an orgasm, and when I look up to her to say that it’s okay and that I got all the time in the world to treat her right, she says, ‘So what’s Joey’s deal? Like is she into chicks?’”

The room is silent for a few seconds before everyone starts laughing. Pietro is holding his sides and Clint is on the floor. Even Natasha let’s out a chuckle or two.

“So she let you eat her out just because she wanted to get closer to Joey?” Thor asks between laughs.

“I don’t know how you didn’t see it coming, it was obvious she was gay.” Nat crosses her arms.

“You only knew because of my colorful storytelling,” Sam defends.

“So…” Bucky prompts, looking at Joey.

“So what?” Asks Joey.

Bucky swipes his upper lip with his tongue, “Did you ever make Lola’s dreams come true?”

All attention is turned to Joey and it’s obvious that everyone even Steve, is leaning forward a little.

She maintains a stoic expression and lets the suspense build before she smiles, “She was really, really hot.”

Laughs and cheers ring out from their friends. Nat sends a wink her way. Thor smiles and kisses the top of Bruce’s head. Steve smile is raunchy, but his cheeks are red.

Sam settles them all down, “Alright, alright it’s my turn. Shuri, truth or dare?”

Many rounds and many beers later the friends have learned much more about each other. Steve’s weirdest sex dream involved him and his fourth-grade math teacher with a forked tongue. Pietro sent nudes to a random contact from Nat’s phone, only to turn out to be her gynecologist (who responded, “Natasha I’m afraid I can’t help you with this” much to the group's enjoyment). Shuri confessed that to help pay for her school she developed a line of vibrators that she is still selling because of how much money she makes (Nat and Joey both got the URL). Clint gave Bruce a very enthusiastic lap dance, while Thor beatboxed in the background. Bruce revealed the size of Thor’s penis (with Thor’s shameless permission). Bucky revealed a hair-pulling kink, and when the group argued that was too tame, he offered up that he didn’t mind, and in fact enjoyed, being pegged. Nat was the only one who drank but did complete a dare to give a hickey to Steve, whose face turned as red as the mark. Joey was dared to act out her third favorite (heterosexual, Pietro was specific) sex position as her partner. They were all entertained as she pretended to fuck an invisible someone against a wall.

People were slowly leaving, Nat, Bruce, and Thor went first. Then Shuri and Pietro, who after a couple beers have become mildly flirty. Clint stayed for a while longer, pressing for more details about Lola, but eventually, he too heads off. The core four are left, still laughing at dumb dares and pushing each other to reveal more and more.

It’s Bucky’s turn again. They’re all on the couch now, Sam’s arm is hooked around Joey’s knees and Steve’s head is in Sam’s lap. Sam has always been so physical, and it took a long time for Joey to feel super comfortable with him, but after a while, she found herself very at home with Sam’s arm around her shoulders, or with her feet in his lap. Bucky’s records play softly in the background. Everyone is feeling lovely and drunk.

Bucky deliberates for a minute or two on who to pick, but finally with a wicked smile his sights land on Joey, “Alright Sweetheart, truth or dare?”

She doesn’t disguise the roll of her eyes, “Dare.”

“I dare you to show us your most embarrassing high school photos.”

She gasps, and both Sam and Steve’s brows shoot up.

“Bucky Barnes, those are words to wage a war with.”

Bucky lazily guffaws at her, “Oh come on! I waited all night for it to be just us four. If it makes you feel better Steve will look away.”

“Hey!” Steve sits up a little in protest, then he turns his head to Joey, “I mean if you really want me to I will.”

“Or you could take the wimp’s way out.” His dumb handsome, but gloating expression pulls another eye roll from her.

“Fat chance Barnes.” Joey pulls out her phone for the first time that night and dives deep into her photos.

When she comes upon it Sam can see the anxiety overtake her body. “How about this; as a bonding moment, why don’t we all show our most embarrassing picture?” Sam suggests. When Bucky starts to protest Sam cuts him off, “Joey can just owe you a dare, man, alright?” His gaze hardening enough to explain that Bucky should hop off.

“I’m fine with it,” Steve replies while reaching for his phone.

“It’s a deal,” Bucky nods and he notices the flash of relief come across Joey’s expression.

“Alright,” Sam states when they all have their phones out, “3… 2… 1…”

They all lay out their phones for the others to see. Steve’s is a skinny kid with a goofy haircut on his picture day, but it strikes Joey as cute more than embarrassing. Sam’s is him with a shaved head and that pencil thin ‘stache above his big goofy grin. Bucky’s is not what Joey expected but it’s still good. His hair is greasy and well past his shoulders, he’s mean-mugging the camera while flexing a very skinny bicep with a red star tattoo on his shoulder. When Steve and Bucky both see Joey’s it’s not what they expected either. Her hair was straight, either a wig, weave, or chemically straightened, they couldn’t tell. She’s wearing more makeup than any high school girl should and the biggest twist is the cheerleading uniform she has on.

“Killer… You were a cheerleader?” Steve questions, a bewildered look etched across his face.

Her only answer was turning her head away from them suddenly feeling very sober.

“I gotta say when most people talk about ‘embarrassing phases’ they don’t normally refer to their cheerleading phase as evidence.”

“Is this the part where I say I’m not like most people, or can we move past it?” She tries to come off as playful but there’s a bite to her comment.

Sam comes to her rescue, “You wanna tell Joe the story of that tattoo Bucky?”

Bucky groans but he sees Joey’s interest at the changing of the subject so he tells it, ”I was sixteen and I found an artist who would do it without a parent’s permission. So I make an appointment, and Steve is begging me not to by the way-”

“I couldn’t not Buck, I mean, getting a tattoo for a band you like as a sixteen-year-old is so fucking dumb.”

“Anyway, I was just itching to rebel, so I go to the artist and show them the cover art for this band, Shield. It’s just a red star so he does it pretty quick, and it hurts like hell, but I’m so fucking proud. Then two years later it comes out that the band’s lead singer is totally alt-right and essentially a Nazi. And he starts his own band called Hydra, that uses the same logo, so I was just walking around with Nazi propaganda on my arm. Anyway, I saved up and got it covered.” He pulls up his left shirt sleeve to reveal a large rose on his arm. It’s done well and Joey can barely see any outline of a star.

“Holy shit.” Joey gawks and turns to Sam.

“I know. I was so proud of myself for not telling you all these years.”

“What?” Both Steve and Bucky ask at the same time.

Joey pulls up her t-shirt sleeve on her right arm to reveal a tattoo of a rose in almost exactly the same spot. It’s in a different style, the lines are lighter, more minimalistic, but they’re alarmingly similar.

Bucky itches to reach out and touch her arm. He resists but the want of it rolls through him like electricity. “That’s fucking crazy.”

“I mean if you think about how many people have rose tattoos on their shoulders it’s not that weird.” Sam is quick to dismiss the looks of sheer awe on his friends’ faces.

Bucky and Joey spend a few more seconds thoughtfully ogling the other’s shoulder. Eventually, they both sheepishly pull down their sleeves, and the air in the room feels almost uncomfortably intimate until Steve says, “Your turn Joe.”

“Bucky,” she starts, “Truth or dare?”

Sam and Steve share an equally unsurprised glance that goes missed by their best friends.

“Truth.”

“Why the rose?” She leans forward and rests her chin on her knees.

“Steve’s mom used to have a rose bush in their front yard. Snow or blistering heat that bush was there. We probably got 30 different balls stuck in there. Hell, I was cut up by that bush plenty too. It seemed like a better way to encapsulate my youth than some dumb star.”

Steve affectionately put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. They share a smile that warms Joey’s heart. She’s overwhelmed all of the sudden with the feelings she has for the people around her. She can’t tell what’s alcohol and what’s real. This isn’t how life works. You don’t just hang out for one day and feel like family. Sam had known everyone at their party for at least three years. Except for Thor, she had only met them through Sam. But, sitting on that couch any sense of being an outsider is gone. Sam used the word family and, maybe for the first time in her life, she feels it too.

Suddenly she stands and the boys look at her with curiosity. “Excuse me,” she says with a soft smile. On her walk to the restroom she traces her fingers along the walls and imagines them with Steve’s art, or photographs, and she smiles, nodding her head to the beat of the song playing on the record player.

Bucky watches her stroll down the hallway from his spot on the couch, slowly as she draws the tips of fingers on the wall before she disappears behind the bathroom door.

When she dries her hands off she looks up at herself in the mirror. She makes a funny face at herself to remind her that she’s still in control. Then she backs up and sees that tub. Oh, that beautiful tub. She knows they might be waiting for her, but she can’t help but sink back down. She closes her eyes and leans back her head. She sits. She thinks. Thinks about the job she’s starting on Monday. Thinks about gorgeous brown eyes she left in Positano. Thinks about Sam’s mom’s fried chicken and waffles. Thinks about swings and jumping off them. She’s thinking about rose bushes when she hears a knock on the door.

Expecting Sam she replies, “Come in.”

Bucky opens the door instead and steps into the room.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” She jokes and the corners of his lips turn up.

“You really are making me think we carried up that bed for nothing.

“Were you sent to come get me?” She starts to get up.

He shakes his head no, “We cleaned up, and those two old-timers hit the hay.”

“Oh.” Her jaw shifts ever so slightly as she stares at the drain.

“I’m not tired so I came to find you.” He steps closer, leaving the door open so they can still hear the music.

She nods.

“Are you tired?”

She locks eyes with him, “Nope.”

He smiles again, “Good. It’s my turn. Scoot over.”

She almost stops him, but he is opposite her in the tub so quick that she doesn’t really have the chance. She gets nervous, but it’s comfortable. His legs are bent and hers are extended and resting against his hip.

“Truth or dare?” He asks, and she observes that over the past ten hours of knowing him he never avoids eye contact.

“Truth.”

“Why the rose?” He quotes her.

She smiles, “My mom’s name is Rosemary. Mine too I guess.”

“Joey is short for Rosemary?” He tilts his head, almost too endearingly, as he asks.

“My middle name is Joseph. It’s her brother’s name, I never met him. But the actual origin story is that I was really clingy to my mom as a toddler. She always said if she had a pouch I would’ve gladly lived in it. One day she called me Joey like a baby kangaroo, and it just stuck. The Joseph thing is basically a coincidence.”

“You go by a nickname that is technically short for your middle name, which you are named for a man you never met?” His eyes are wide.

“Yes… I’ve never thought it was that weird… I mean if you think about it Bucky is a lot-”

“No, no, no, Darlin’ I’m not judging. Has Sam ever told you where my name comes from?”

She shakes her head and he explains, “My full name is James Buchanan Barnes. In elementary school Steve once read my name ‘James Bucky-nan Barnes’ and it too just stuck.”

“What the fuck? This is getting creepy.”

“You’re telling me. If I knew my soulmate was just a friend of a friend I would’ve looked a lot harder for you.”

She laughs, “I don’t know if liking the same Pizza and a couple other similarities qualifies us as soulmates.” “A couple similarities? It’s our names and our fucking body art. Two peas, one pod, Sweetheart.” He motions to the tub as he says pod.

“Sure, okay we’re soulmates.” She offers up her pinky.

A smile crawls up his face as he realizes what she’s doing and he raises his pinky up to her. They hook together and both unabashedly grin at each other.

Unsure how to end the moment he slowly pulls his hand away and says, “Your turn.”

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” “I dare you to tell me about the last time you cried.”

A skeptical expression darkens his eyes and he traces a star with his sock on the tub floor, “You see we never really went over this, does it count if you use a dare to ask a truth?”

“I think it counts if the person who’s asking has good intentions.”

“And is that what you have Doll? Good intentions?” It’s flirty and sultry, she has to fight rolling her eyes.

“Always.”

“Alright then. When Steve and I moved out of our last place we had a little goodbye with it, which turned into hours of reminiscing in an empty apartment and I cried.” She smiles widely, “What?” He asks, his tone on the verge of defensive.

“I just appreciate you guys. No toxic masculinity. You’re so vulnerable with each other. I’m as inspired as I am envious.”

“There’s no other way to be with him.” It’s so sincere, the love he has for Steve so blatant.

They both sit in silence for a second before he asks her again.

“Truth,” she answers.

“What is your truest fear?”

“Truest?”

“Yeah. Not your greatest, like the inevitability of death, or your most irrational, like a bear attack in the city. The one that you actually believe. The one that pokes away at you.” He shifts a little due to sitting uncomfortably for too long and attempts to lay down his legs, but they’re too long to straighten fully. He manages a cramped criss-cross applesauce and it looks even more uncomfortable. Joey tucks her legs into her chest so he can stretch out his a little more, each foot rests on the outside of her hips. He gives her a grateful glance. She squeezes her legs closer to her.

“I guess… just that I’m… I guess... unlovable.” She sheepishly looks down, unable to meet his searing gaze after being so vulnerable.

“I told you it couldn’t be irrational.”

Her eyes shoot up, “You’re not allowed to question my truest fear.”

He shrugs, “Agree to disagree then Darlin’.”

She just wants to change the subject, “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

She mulls over it for a little while and then finally decides on a question, “What’s with the pet names?”

“What do you mean ‘what’s with the pet names’?” He questions, a genuine confusion pressed into his features.

“You have not once called me by name in the past twelvish hours of us being roommates. All I get are different cycles of ‘Dolls’, ‘Darlin’s’, and ‘Sweethearts’. Makes me feel like a secretary in the 60’s.” She finally admits.

He looks taken aback, like no one has ever mentioned this to him, “Huh, I’ve always been a nickname person. Kind of just what I’ve always done.”

“But those aren’t nicknames. Sammy, Buck, Stevie, those are nicknames.”

“Why do they make you uncomfortable? When Steve calls you Killer you don’t mind, and that’s got a far worse connotation than Sweetheart.”

“I’m not completely sure. I’ve never been a pet name person. Never called a partner so much as Baby. I don’t mind a nickname, I’m just… I’m not a ‘Doll’. I’m not that girl.”

“I think you’re right about that,” He has to stop himself to not throw in a little name. They sit in contemplative silence for a while. A song comes to end and Bucky listens as it transitions into a new one. The slow initial beat of the Temptations’ My Girl begins. “Sunshine,” he says along to the first line of the song.

“Mm, it’s a good song,” Joey distractedly responds while moving her shoulders to the music.

“No, I’ll call you Sunshine. Think of it as a nickname. Plus with that smile, it fits.” Says the man with the million wattage grin, she thinks but doesn’t say.

“Okay.” She says after a moment, “But only because of The Temptations.” She ignores his compliment.

Bucky’s eyes light up with another idea almost immediately. “You owe me a dare.” A devious grin appears below those pretty blue eyes.

She sighs dramatically, “I was hoping you had forgotten about that.”

“Not a chance Sunshine.” The name sounds right when he uses it and they both know it. “I call you Sunshine, I dare you to call me Baby.”

“Are you joking?” She demands.

“Dead serious. You’ve never called anyone else it and sounds like you don’t plan on it. So it’ll be unique to me. Not to mention you can give me the experience of a pet name more often used to belittle women. Come on. Baby and Sunshine, we’ll sound like my little ponies.” His enthusiasm burns away at her doubt a little.

“You’re drunk.”

“A dare is a dare.”

She hesitates for a while longer, “Ah fine, but only because I’m no coward. Just don’t expect me to be good at it.”

“I don’t know, I think you’ll be great. You already called me it once today.”

“What? When?”

“The pizzeria. Which reminds me,” He stands up and stretches a little and then offers her a hand, “I have something to show you.”

He pulls her up and they both step out of the tub. She pulls her hand back and he notices it. He leads her down the hall back to the bookshelf in the living room that his record player sits on. He sets to work, searching for a record in his many piles. She stands back, awkwardly watching him. She recognizes how weird it is all of the sudden, how weird it is that she lives with three outrageously handsome men. Steve, shy and sensitive, but brawny, with his messy longer locks and lumberjack beard. Sam, confident and a leader, always making the tough decisions with a flirty grin on his face. And Bucky. Bucky, with styled hair but relaxed fashion. Thoughtful and charismatic. She’s living in a romantic comedy.

It’s like Bucky reading her thoughts when he finds what he’s looking for and he pulls the record from the sleeve, replacing the previous record with this one. There are a few seconds of silence as the record situates itself. Then the familiar guitar plays.

Bucky turns to her, “Do you remember? From earlier.”

The delightful music rings out from You and Me by the lost band Penny & the Quarters. She smiles and nods, feeling tipsy and brave as she grabs his hand. He puts his other hand on her back and she holds his shoulder with her right hand. They’re not chest to chest, but they’re close. They slowly sway to the music, getting closer and closer. Eventually, he sighs, and realizes she can feel his chest rise and fall against her own. He leans down to press his forehead against where her neck and shoulder meet. It’s incredibly intimate. She’s not sure if she’s ever been this close to someone so quickly, physically or emotionally. She’s had one-night stands, but even bruising sex somehow feels less intimate than sharing a bathtub completely clothed with Bucky. He hums along to the last notes of the song and she feels his breath against her collarbone. The song ends and he steps away, but not very far. She has no idea what’s coming next.

He looks like he's about to say something but he doesn’t, so she does. “Truth or dare?” Her voice is quiet and her eyes are hooded.

He sucks in a quiet breath, “Truth,” too afraid of the dares swirling around his own mind.

She realizes she hasn’t thought that part through. She can’t conceive a good question for the life of her. “I can’t think of one. I guess I’m too tired or too drunk.”

“I guess I’ll just owe you then.” She smiles. He does too.

She takes a step back. He does too.

They both wonder if it will break the spell. It doesn’t seem to.

“Goodnight?” She asks.

“Goodnight.” He answers.

They both walk to their rooms and take one last thoughtful glance at each other across the hallway.

“Sleep well, Sunshine.”

“Sweet dreams, Baby.” She can practically feel his smile as she closes her door.

Part 3

Thanks for reading xx.

@buckybarnesxoxo

#zazie beetz #sebastian stan #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x OFC #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x poc #marvel fanfiction #marvel roommate au #bucky roommate au #steve rogers #sam wilson #everyone is queer

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or-something-better · 3 years ago

Text

June 26, 2022

(Nightly RP – End of the Dark Hunters Storyline)

(Ruby played Jody for this outline)

Gabe

walking into Jacques living room

Cass

Well this isn’t ominous

Dean

follows inside

Jacques

brim of my hat pushed down over my eyes, I watch as everyone enters. I can feel the power coming from a few of the newcomers. Turning to the one in a trench coat I speak I recognize a few here, but you… and a couple of your friends… you radiate power… who are you?

Gabe

I’m Larry this here pointing to Cass is Moe and that gorgeous creature with the long blonde hair is Curly

Donna

walks in right behind my love, gun ready. soft giggle!

Sam

I'm the last one to go inside and I stand at the door to the room they've gathered in, keeping our escape in view, just in case we need one in a hurry.

Gabe

And who might you be?

Jacques

chuckles nice try… But I’ve got some trust issues so hear me out. I’m Jacques… I take care of these parts here…

Dean

Jacques these are my friends. Gabe this is Jacques he’s the guy we were telling you about

Donna

nods

Gabe

Trust issues ….oh wait I know you snapping as if remembering you’re the guy who left my family to die

Jacques

I was fighting a bigger evil… they were faced with some daimons… I located the nest. They said they were experienced hunters, I thought they could handle it

Dean

Gabe... He helped with a lot of information too...

Gabe

Trust me friend if any of them have died you’d have never seen an evil like I’d have rained down on you personally. I’m Gabe my wife Donna and my special needs brother Cass

Cass

Hey! Shut up ass hat

Gabe

Shhhhhh or I’ll turn you back into an alpaca

Dean

He helped us find.... stops talking

Jacques

chuckling again good to meet you. Your team asked for more information on what it is I’m fighting here. I assume they called you to ask for some help?

Donna

Well I all I know, I’m … fucking over Artemis…. ARTEMIS AND HER holier than thou attitude is trying to mess with the natural order of things and what about the fates…. What will they think???? What the world and their death!

Jody

Donna’s right. You’ve heard of the butterfly effect. Only this would be on a major scale.

Cass

No they reached out using angel -

Gabe

Not literally Yes

Jacques

nodding I didn’t understand the deal I accepted when Artemis came to me. I had watched my family killed in slaughter by enemy soldiers… they invaded my home. It was the war of 1812…. I was seconds from death when Artemis offered me a chance at revenge, at a price. I did get my revenge…. But now I’m cursed to never meet with my family in heaven because now…. I cannot die

Gabe

I can remedy that

Sam

Pulling out my notepad in case there are things we’re being told that might be valuable later on. I know I’ll have them accurate, things this big need to be documented.

Dean

stands leaning on a door frame listening

Jacques

We need to stop her, and then I can go peacefully. This whole thing is a petty fight between Artemis and her twin… Apollo

Charlie

But she won’t stop as long as daimons exists

Gabe

I mean we could do this now easy peasy. Little hand of Gabe weapon and you’re riding the friendly skies

Dean

More god temper tantrums always lead to fun....

Ruby

Anything I can do, I'm willing to help

Gabe

Just one

Sam

Maybe we can help you find a way out of all this, might be a loophole you can exploit with her

Jacques

I’m bound to Artemis… as long as she lives…. So do I

Dean

So how the hell can we help end this?

Gabe

raising hand I have a question

Jacques

Anything… I want to end this once and for all

Gabe

Oh not you I’m just curious why we’re helping someone who left our family to die

Jody

I'm ready to help any way I can. This wouldn't be my first family squabble, even if they are gods

Alex

agree pretty tough lady and pretty smart

Dean

He apparently claims he helped save us while he was gone doing something else remember?

Cass

She’s really good

Jacques

If you really want to help end this I guess you need to know what started it … Apollo was close friends with Loki for years… one day he disappeared. Apollo got lonely so he made friends…..

Jody

I wink at Cass

Cass.

awkward smile looking down

Jacques

Zeus caught wind… called Apollo weak for needing friendship. Said a god didn’t need anyone. So he cursed them. Artemis wanting to win her father’s favor decided to hunt them… she wanted to kill them all off…. Now we are cursed to this existence until we complete her mission.

Cass

Isn’t he married? Seems to need someone as well as his minions

Donna

puts her gun away, looking around and listening

Cass

It’s all bad?

Gabe

smiles as he leans against the wall contemplating and listening

Jacques

You need to get Apollo to stop creating Appollites so we can abolish the daimons. Only then will Artemis stop… but what she will do next I can’t predict

Ruby

How do we go about completing the mission?

Gabe

I think I could talk to Apollo

Jody

Sounds like a job for a god

Cass

Whatever we need to do to help I’m in

Gabe

Thanked for the push Jodes

Alex

Nod

Ruby

Pats him on the shoulder Any time What can the rest of us do?

Gabe

You’re so helpful I’ll remember that laughing.

Alex

Look over ruby and look back

Dean

listening to them talk what are we able to do to help with all this?

Sam

I can't be just ending the Daimon that are here...

Ruby

Hard to say at this point.

Donna

listen looking around, starting to play with her hair

Ruby

It's about getting Apollo to STOP making more isn't it?

Alex

What we do? look around her team

Jacques

I can’t get near Apollo, god of the sun….. I will burn. If you can stop him from making more… maybe, we can finally get rid of them all. The last of them will be turning this year which means he will create more

Dean

And how are we going to get a GOD to stop doing anything?

Gabe

Having another god? He’s a minor god Deano Wait they are on earth? Not Olympus?

Sam

Jacques, What?...so all of these Gods are right here on Earth? Looks over at Gabe And you didn't already know this, how?

Dean

My point is how are we humans gonna be useful in this? And how did you not know they are here?

Gabe

We’ve always had an understanding with the minor gods like Zeus etc .

Cass

We could sacrifice you to them

Jacques

nodding I don’t know their exact locations but they reside somewhere here in the city… disguised as humans. Much like…. Well… you… looking Gabe

Jody

Sounds like somebody decided to change that understanding

Dean

Funny Cass!

Gabe

It does and trust me I’ll, we’ll put them back in line

Sam

Leans over and whispers Not helpful Cass

Cass

Those gifs liked human sacrifice

Gabe

Gods

Dean

Yeah that’s totally the answer rolls eyes

Sam

Great.. well who do you think we'd do best to approach first?

Ruby

Why don't we check out Artemis first? She might listen.

Gabe

Personally pushing himself off the wall I’d say Apollo

Dean

Ok great lets go talk to the gods and fix their feud

Gabe

That’s true too

Donna

Wellllll, fuck why aren’t they were they belong? I bite my lip

Gabe

Maybe we should hear them out he looks to Jacques two sides to every story

Donna

But? But!

Gabe

But?

Donna

Fine. We can hear him out. crosses arms getting heated!

Gabe

Okie dokie

Ruby

I can check it out. I've gotten good at being stealthy over the years. Hell is still looking for me.

Alex

Rise her eyebrows my eyebrows and gasp ohhhh that make sense since she is a goddess of hunt!

Jody

What about Apollo?

Sam

I agree. I think we should meet all the players in this shit show for yourselves. Who's going where?

Alex

Look over Gabe

Gabe

Sam, Ruby jo you guys are with me snapping his fingers we vanish

Gabe

we appear in another house and pointing to the man sitting at the mirror

Ruby

Wonders what it is he's looking at

Sam

Lookin around at the new place, really doesn't look all that different from the house we'd just come from. Approaching the man sitting in front of the mirror, I clear my throat and speak calmly Um.. hello?

looks around for a bit then looking at the man sitting in front of mirror

Dean

Apollo appears in the mirror looking at all the people who just appeared in my house can I help you? Ah Gabe my old friend!

Sam

Hi.. didn't mean to startle you... I'm Sam and these are my friends Jo, Ruby and I guess you already know Gabe. We'd just like to ask you some questions about the Appollites... if that's okay..

Donna

taps toe we need to get world back to its natural order!

Dean

I jump up and turn quickly to meet my eyes with Gabe’s

Gabe

Apollo approaching it’s been a lonnnnnng time grinning offering my hand this is Sam Ruby Alex and jo

Alex

Hello Apollo

Ruby

Can you tell us about the early death?

Dean

take your hand in my how have you been? looking to the others my pleasure to meet you all im sure. Any friend of Gabe is a friend of mine... I think?

Jacques

My curse is until all of the daimons are defeated… I am cursed to live. Until the Appollites cease to exist there shall always be daimons

Gabe

shaking your hand oh you can trust these guys

Jody

how are we going to do it?

Cass

Maybe we should wait for the others to get back before we go off half cocked?

Donna

Better get your affairs in order because it going to happen! pats my gun!

Jacques

Because Zeus found him weak for needing friendship he cursed the Appollites to live for only 27 years. To exceed that they must take human souls…. They do it from fear… but Apollo only makes more to ease his loneliness.

Gabe

When did you get here?

Alex

Look over Gabe rise my eyebrows

Dean

smiles hearing the girl who I sense is a little different than the others the early death? What do you know about that? My father.... I just wanted friends and he called me weak for wanting them. So I created them only for him to curse them. Then my sister... She’s so jealous that witch of a goddess. She hates me you see. She is the God of hint so she created the dark hunkers to kill my creations. She hates that I found favor with all the other gods of Odyssey because of my beauty. Sadly she’s jealous. So she kills everything I create

Jody

Texting Sam Are you returning soon? We're on our way.

Sam

I'm listening closely to everything being said. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I take it out to see a message from Jody asking when we might be back. From the gist of the conversation, I text her back that we shouldn't be much longer and hit send

Dean

Apollo the Appollites are the only thing I have to friends aside from Gabe here so I have to repopulate when she kills them. Dad’s curse doesn’t help anything either

Gabe

Alright how about you point us in the right direction, we kill them all and everyone has a drink?

Dean

Apollo Kill who? My friends? Or my sister? And her dark hunters that won’t leave my creations alone?

Gabe

Yes Them too I’m in a murderous mood

Ruby

Let’s head back to the bunker so we can prepare to hunt down Artemis. I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.

Dean

Please by all means kill my sister and her dark hunters but I need my friends.

Gabe

Never is but that’s a great idea. Meh mine just bring me hassle laughing

Dean

You dont expect me to let you kill my Appollites or stop making them do you?

Gabe

Yep All done with all of them

Dean

And why would I do that? Who does that benefit? And what benefit do I gain my friend?

Alex

Gabe how we going to do that? Look at Gabe

Sam

Alex, Ruby might be able to help us with that. Looks over at Ruby knowing that I'm putting her on the spot again She's been pretty helpful in us finding people in the past

Ruby

Sure....I'd be happy to

Gabe

Us not killing you too. Where’s your sister?

Alex

Look over how we do that Sam?

Dean

Fair you’re my friend anyway, right? I’m not sure exactly I’m still trying to figure that out myself but will keep in touch and let you know when I do find her. And I propose you do the same?

Gabe

We will looking around alright guys let’s get back snapping we vanish.

Alex

Yes sir

Gabe

appearing back in the bunker well Apollo didn’t have much beyond what Jacques said, no idea where his sister is either

Sam

Happy to find us all suddenly back at the newest Bunker. Interested in what the other’s have found out.

Dean

Dean looks up well so that leaves us where we were already at? Did he agree to stop creating more of the Appollites so there won’t be any more Daimons?

Sam

Not exactly... of the daimon are created then he has to make more. It's a never-ending loop

Alex

How we going to find Artemis?

Ruby

With Cass’s and Gabe’s help I may have a way since I won’t have any item that belongs to Artemis. I can use a mirror to scry with. I can use my power to locate her but it comes with caution. She might be able to see me as well. Gabe and Cass help may be able to keep her from sensing me.

Sam

Apollo didn't seem much concerned about us going after his sister or her creations. Just admonished us not to hurt his friends. Once she's out of the way, he's okay about standing down

Charlie

That might be a bit too risky. You’ve done a lot of magic lately Ruby, and it takes a lot out of you; we need you strong.

Ruby

I think with Gabe and Cass I should be able to do this.

Gabe

You with Artemis being a god I might have a safer way

Dean

Surprising he actually agreed eventually. What he want from Gabe?

Gabe

Smite his enemies same old same old

Ruby

What do you suggest?

Sam

I can help... well maybe.

Dean

I agree too dangerous we almost lost you last time

Ruby

I appreciate the sentiment, but we don't have much choice

Dean

You forget the last one that almost took her down? Gabe spoke said he has a safer way let’s hear it

Sam

I'm for a safer way, if possible

Gabe

You guys do know if I concentrate, I can pinpoint anyone right? All over the worlds, heaven, hell purgatory etc? I just like watching you guys come up with ideas it’s cute

Alex

Nod ok

Alternative would be a lot safer

Alex

Agree

Dean

We try not to take you for granted but the last magic stunt she did almost killed her made her too weak

Sam

Nods and go over to sit next to Jo

Ruby

Using Gabe's and Cass's power for the largest use of magic will cover what I need

Gabe

No worries I got it

Dean

Ruby. Gabe just said he’s got it.

Ruby

Yes, I did see that

Gabe

closing my eyes and blocking everything out I find Artemis got her let’s finish this

Donna

FUCK YES! Finally!!!!

Dean

Damn that fast! Awesome!

Donna

grabs my archangel blade!

Sam

Gabe, anything special we need to know when going up against a lesser god?

Dean

gets duffle ready

Donna

This bitch is going DOWN!!!

Gabe

Don’t die?

Sam

O...k... got it Goes to check my weapons, takes everything

Alex

Awesome let do this

Ruby

Foregoes the satchel, meets with the others

Gabe

Listen this isn’t like vamps and werewolves even as lesser gifs they are stronger than anything you’ve ever faced

Alex

Grab my weapon and I pack

Ruby

Is everyone wired up?

Sam

And her creations, we won't have the sun this time or even a comet tail... its heads off to kill 'em

Dean

Yeah stronger than the daimons we had to fight which were also different from what we faced?

Alex

Get all wired up

Gabe

We ready?

Alex

Yes sir hold on to Gabe

Ruby

Putting on the equipment Charlie gave me Ready

gets everything together ready

Sam

Ready Hope it’s true

Donna

Fuck yes!

Ruby

Tucks a blade in my waistband

Donna

Be on your toes everyone!

Alex

Yes ma’am

Charlie

I’m gonna hang back here everyone grab wires and earpieces and mics I already have everything set up so we can communicate and I can tip you off to anything out of the norm

Gabe

offering my hand let’s do this

Sam

Chuckles Remind me never to cross you Donna

Donna

slips my hand into yours! let do it! Payback finally!

Sam

Takes the equipment and gets it set up

Alex

Hell yeah let light this candle

Donna

Will do Sam!

Dean

takes equipment handing out to everyone and put on my own Here alex putting the wires, earpiece and mic on you Lets do this!

Ruby

Ready

Alex

Thanks you Put it on and hold on to Gabe

Gabe

kissing cheek abracadabra, we all vanish appearing in front of a waiting Artemis

Jody

I get ready... for anything and hope it's enough

Alex

Damnnnnnn

Ruby

Seeing Artemis waiting sends a chill down my back

Sam

Feet once again on solid ground. I look over and see that Artemis was expecting us and am instantly on alert of attack

Donna

my yes get huge the Urge to attack pills every cell in my body!!!

Dean

Artemis well well of course you would come with them! seeing donna smiling and you! snaps fingers as daimons surround the group blocking everyone from me figures my brother would send you pathetic excuses to come after me

Ruby

I take my blade out and get in a ready stance

Alex

Pull my blade and ready to fight

Donna

You absolute self entitled bitch of excuse of Goddess!!!!

Gabe

crossing my arms smirking really that’s how you greet us?

Donna

Hope you are ready to die because today is FUCKING DAY!

Dean

Artemis why can’t he just leave well the hell enough alone. Dont, you have more important things in heaven to worry about than our feud?

Jody

Nervously I watch the daimons

Gabe

darlin right now as beautiful and amazing as you are your only human right now baby help

Alex

look over and took a deep breath and look back at Artemis

Donna

You expect any less from the excuse for a bitch! takes a big sigh youre right

Sam

Blade in one hand and machete in the other, I move closer to Jo and Alex, trying to close up out ranks against the Daimon

Gabe

shaking head your problem became mine and that’s against the rules, you attacked my family

Donna

but we aren’t alone!

Gab

marks calendar

Dean

why dont you just make it easy on all of us and just end this stupid temper tantrum squabblefest bitch?!?

Gabe

nope we’re not

pulls her gun out ready to fire

Alex

Gasp look over Sam and look back at Artemis you are going down Artemis!! Sage advice one should follow

Donna

Lol

Gabe

Dean do you enjoy having vocal cords?

Dean

Artemis yeah that will be the day. And I didn’t attack your family they came in butting into my business that had absolutely nothing to do with them this is me and my brother and his stupid little things he calls friends. I would much more rather destroy him and his oh so beautiful face that gained all the respect in odyssey that left me basically nothing! what? What’d I say? Would be easier and less of a fight

Donna

Oh ya you did you bitch! Quit pretending!

Gabe

It’s so weird you talk about your brother that way. Why do I have so many sibling love feats in my life? Annnnny old who, you can end this peacefully or you’ll just be something written about in books and forgotten by history. You’re no match for us

Jody

Nods my head, agreeing with Gabe

Gabe

Last warning

Alex

What Donna said Artemis Glare at Artemis

Donna

peacefully MY ASS!!!

Sam

Wishes they'd just fight or call it off. The Daimon look pissed and ready

Gabe

looking at your ass I’m rather fond of the whole thing

Cass

This isn’t going to end well

Alex

Nod

Dean

Jacques you all know this isn’t going to end well for many right?

Gabe

Never does

Donna

soft inside giggle gawd I love you!

Gabe

I love you too

Alex

Took a deep breath

Ruby

I can feel the battle coming shortly Be careful Sam. You too Alex!

Donna

my hand tightens on my blade. Rage building inside!

Alex

Yes ma’am

Sam

I give Ruby a smile and a nod

Dean

Artemis if I remember correctly I almost killed you before and I can make a promise I will finish it this time

Alex

Donna please be careful

Ruby

Gripping my blade handle tightly, I wait

Donna

eyes glaring I want to see you try!!!!

Gabe

Did you just threaten my? claws sliding out of both hands eyes blazing blue

Artemis

raising my bow and shooting the first arrow let’s do this then, wench

Gabe

snapping the arrow away

Donna

my heart skips a beat I love when you defend me!

Alex

Gulp watch Artemis

Donna

Bring it on Bitch!

Artemis

shooting 4 arrows at a time they go in various directions, striking Jo Alex Donna Ruby SPN

Sam

I could see this was going to be the outcome and I didn't have to be told twice! With a yell, I charge the nearest Daimon and swing my machete for its neck

Ruby

I feel my eyes turn black as I feel an arrow hit me in the arm

Jody

Ducking, I wield the machete at the nearest daimon

Gabe

heading for Artemis as much as I like a good cat fight I prefer mine in jello snapping a pool of jello behind Artemis I jump kicking her in the chest knocking her in

Cass

moving to fight next to Jody

Charlie

the daimons start to close in, 4 grabbing Sam and holding him while one approaches to feed

Ruby

Seeing the arrow is sticking out the other side, I grit my teeth and break off the end, pushing it through with a scream

Ruby

Heading for Sam, I slice and dice my way in

Dean

begin fighting daimons as two jump me I flip one and slice my blade through the throat of the other

Sam

Pressing forward, I knock away an attack from the side and get one trapped between the sofa and the bookcase. The demon killing knife of the Kurd's didn't end the create, but shoved into his chest it held him in place while my machete removed his head

Alex

felt went through my shoulder ahhh! Reach and try pull it out

Ruby

Stabbing the daimon in the neck, I throw it off Sam

Cass

seeing a raining heading Jody throwing my angel blade it sticks it through the heart

Ruby

Looking over at Cass, I mouth a thank you, and turn to resume battle

Dean

I run over helping Ruby and Sam with the Daimons attacking them

Charlie

3 Daimons grab and hold ruby while more approach Sam

Artemis

taking aim with 3 more arrows I hit Dean Cass and Jody

Cass

nodding I pull my blade from its chest and rush back into battle

Alex

No! I run front Jody and Cass and arrow hit me ahh

Sam

Seeing Dean moving my way, I try to keep the path clear for him. As one moves on him from the rear, I rush forward Dean! Look out!

Ruby

Using my telekinesis, I throw off a daimon and fight the other two

Jody

I rush forward to help Alex

Sam

It was difficult to see how many were actively engaged in battle, they seemed to be everywhere I looked

Cass

Nice save Alex pulling the arrow out I heal you back to it bear eat them

Ruby

Stabbing at anything not from our group, I kill a few more

Dean

an arrow pierces through my side as I’m attacking the daimons and I yell out in pain FUCK! I Look down as the adrenaline kicking in I break off the end of the arrow and keep fighting the daimons

Alex

Ahh Turn into Bear thanks Cass

Gabe

snapping 8 tentacles reach out of the pool of jello pulling Artemis under

Charlie

Daimons start to surround the bear

Dean

I rush over to help bear fight the Daimons

Alex

Bear growling bite

Artemis

stabbing the tentacles with my arrows, I free myself from the pool and find higher ground. Taking aim an arrow hits Gabe in the right shoulder

Cass

healing dean I grab a daikon smashing its head against the wall

Dean

Bear! Duck! I swing my blade in a line hitting some of the Daimons killing them

Alex

Bear bite and claw his face

Sam

Ending another I try to locate all the members of our group, unable to locate Donna, I get a rush of adrenaline and call out Donna?!

Gabe

a dozen warrior penguins jump on Artemis

Ruby

Ducking another arrow, I look around and see Alex being surrounded. Running at them, I keep swinging. hoping to connect to a daimon

Alex

Bear duck

Dean

Thanks Cass! continue fighting daimons while trying to dodge anymore arrows that may come my way

Charlie

several daimons lay defeated on the floor, with several more making their way in, Sam gets held down again as a young daimon tries to feed

Gabe

Son of a grabbing the arrow I pull it out creating clones to help belle I jump towards Artemis claws out

Alex

Bear jump and back flip and kick and bite ear and rip ear off and

Ruby

Heading straight for the daimon holding Sam, I bring my blade around and slice his throat

Gabe

as Artemis moves to attack I vanish

Artemis

eyes wide I put seven arrows in my bow all aimed at Gabe 4 making contact, three more striking the daimons

Dean

SAM! runs to you trying to fight the daimons off

Ruby

Helping Sam up, I ask You OK?

Sam

Trying to kick loose, this was just a terrible repeat of the last time and I wasn't about to lose my soul a second time! Yes! Fine Turns and gets right back into it

Alex

Bear claw him and bit and eat

Gabe

appearing behind Artemis I shove my blades through her heart you should know better than to insult my wife!

Ruby

Taking a second to look around. I see daimon bodies all around.

Charlie

the young daimon gets close, a small blue ethereal thread leaving your mouth

Ruby

Turning quickly I slit the daimons throat

Dean

I run towards Gabe to fight off the daimons and I see his blades go into Artemis

Donna

on the floor having been hit, breaks off the arrow, rage flooding my veins. Hit by the arrow but keeps going, not even caring there as arrow in my arm shoulder!

Artemis

as the claws pierce through me a red light shines through the room, filling it and then I vanish. The daimons run

Gabe

Finish them

Ruby

Suddenly the daimons are in full retreat

Sam

The red light blinds me for a second and I shield my eyes

Gabe

snapping all exits closed

Alex

Bear look around

Dean

I run after the daimons that are retreating and attack jumping on the back of one as I slice his head clean off its shoulders and drop with it and attack another

Gabe

CLOSE YOUR EYES!!!

Alex

Bear close my eye

((the daimons are trying to escape))

Sam

Unable to leave the room, the Daimon have no way to run. Attacking at will, I take one after the other down

Gabe

my body starts to glow brighter and brighter the light filling the room

Dean

hearing Gabe I shield my eyes as I get attacked by daimons and get bit and one is holding me down and I feel it start sucking my soul

Ruby

Leaning over I offer my hand to Sam

Donna

closes eyes

Gabe

Hey that’s mine, the soul was Pledged to me

Charlie

as Gabe gets brighter the daimons begin to smoke… until bursting into a bright blue ash

Sam

Closing my eyes, I cover them with my arms as well to help block the light that I know if coming

Alex

Close her eye

Ruby

I throw my arm over my eyes. It's too bright!

Charlie

the daimons scream in agony

Gabe

brighter and brighter until it reaches sunlight levels

Donna

Kill babe. If it’s not me. You! KILL HER!!! blocking out more of light

Dean

I am losing my strength as my soul leaves my body

Alex

Cover her up

Charlie

daimons all explode…. Leaving a blue ash all over the room. Across town a familiar face, finally goes to rest a thank you escaping his lips as he too, turns to ash

Dean

as the light gets brighter the daimon screams put and it explodes my soul slowly returns to my body

Gabe

the light fading from my body

Dean

I take a sudden breath and wake up sitting up looking around I look over at Gabe a bit weak now I know how Sammy and henry felt last time

Jody

Looks around at all the blue ash. I can't believe we made it!

Sam

Goes over and offers Dean a hand up

Alex

Look around and turn back blink whoa!

Dean

look up at you hey! reach a hand out to you

Sam

Pull you back to your feet and slap you on the back You good?

Gabe

What do you say we head home and recoup?

Dean

stands and takes a breath bit of a headache yeah Sammy I think I’m good

Sam

Looks around to make sure that Jo and Alex and Ruby and everyone are okay Looks like we did alright...

Alex

Is everyone is ok?

Dean

That sounds like a plan. The bunker here right?

Ruby

I'm good. I look at my arm Well a hole, make that two. One in one out.

Alex

That good my shoulder hurt

Sam

Is concerned You got shot? Didn't hear a gun go off

Ruby

I pat him on the cheek...arrow

Gabe

The bunker nods

Dean

Arrows Sam I think I was healed by Cass with a piece of one still in my side laughs

Alex

Walk over wait where Donna? Worries

Gabe

taking Belles hand let’s go home

Alex

Hold on to Gabe let go home guys

Cass

I can get them back to the bunker before Jody and I head back to the beach

Sam

I agree with that Alex

Alex

Make sure you wear sunscreen

Jody

I stand by Cass

Donna

nods gawd yes please!

Dean

You actually wanting to go home home?

Sam

Back to the Bunker Dean, away from all this

Alex

Phew glad you are ok Donna

Cass

vanishing with Sam, Dean, Jody, Jo, and Alex

Gabe

they all appear back in the bunker

Ruby

I pop back to the bunker

Donna

Just a flesh wood I’ll be okay!

Alex

That good Donna

Gabe

taking your hand and kissing your cheek abracadabra we vanish home

Sam

Thanks Cass Pats his shoulder Appreciate it

Alex

Bye Gabe and Donna

Cass

You got it Sam! Ready Jody?

Ruby

Capable demon

Dean

appearing back in the bunker glad to be back in this place hey Sam what do you say we go check out more stuff here

Ruby

Whenever you are feathers!

Dean

thanks Gabe

Sam

Yes you are Grabs your good arm But now you need Charlie to take a look at that arm

Alex

Went to my room check her kiddo

Cass

taking Jody in my arms we vanish

Dean

Thanks for helping too Cass

Ruby

Pushy

…………………………………………….

1. Jacques meets them in the living room, and can sense the power coming from Cass, Gabe and Donna so he asks who they are. The three identify themselves and then ask him the same question. Dean starts to tell them this is the guy when Gabe silences him and listens to Jacques. Donna is irritated with the idea that Artemis is trying to mess with the natural order of things and fears what fate may think, or if the implications on their world caused by death. Jody echoes the sentiments, and the others admit they hadn’t thought of that.

2. Jacques explains that this isn’t what he wanted, he really didn’t want to live forever but at this point had no choice. Sam, Dean and ruby all chime in asking how they can help. Jo comments that one good turn deserves another. Jacques tells the team that he appreciates their kindness but with Apollo and Artemis at each other’s throats- his position wasn’t exactly a priority. Jody asks more about the feud since she feels pretty well equipped to resolve family conflict- even if they are gods. Alex agrees that her mom is a pretty tough lady and pretty smart.

3. Jacques gives in and agrees to share what he knows, and during his tale he tells the team where to find the twins. They’re surprised to learn that they reside on earth and not on Mount Olympus like they were supposed to. Donna is upset by this, as she had believed for the most part they had made peace and had an agreement with the Greek pantheon. Everyone gathers in and offers to give help in whatever ways they can. Gabe says they should at least hear them out to find out what exactly was happening.

4. Reluctantly Donna agrees with her husband. Sam asks who they should see first. Ruby suggests Artemis, but Donna quickly turns and says she’s a bitch. Jo is a little surprised at that reaction and asks why. Donna explains how she is typically pretty vindictive, and also kind of sneaky. Ruby comments on how stealthy she can be, and Alex says that would make sense since she is the goddess of the hunt. Jody asks about Apollo and Jacques says he has never met him. Donna says she hasn’t either and Cass says well maybe they should. Sam agrees with that and asks who is going. Gabe snaps his fingers taking Sam, Alex, Ruby and jo with him.

5. Appearing in another home, they walk in toward a man who is sitting and staring into the mirror. He doesn’t even notice them until Sam clears his throat and speaks. He jumps at attention and seems to know who Gabe is. Sam asks him about the Appollites. Ruby listens and then asks about the early death- Apollo tells a story about his father and how he cursed them, and said he was weak for needing friendship. And how Artemis enjoyed killing them off. Meanwhile the rest of the team is back at the bunker and reading through the files with Jacques as he shares his own curse. Donna is adamant that they end it and return the world to its natural order. Jody asks how they are going to do it, and Cass says they need to wait for Gabe and the others. In agreement on that, Jody sends a message to Sam asking if they’ll return soon, saying they are on their way

6. Gabe and Apollo come to an agreement to stop the creation of more Appollites. Ruby suggests they head back so they can prepare to hunt down Artemis. Apollo states he's not sure of her whereabouts at the moment so she may be tough to find but he will be searching and be in touch if he finds her. Apollo asks Gabe to keep in touch if they happen to find her. Alex asks how they are gonna do that. Sam says Ruby may be able to assist with that. Jo agrees. Gabe tells everyone to get ready as he pops everyone back to the bunker.

7. Once back at the bunker Gabe fills everyone in on how things went. Sam and Ruby add to it. Alex asks how they are going to find Artemis. Ruby says with Cass and Gabe’s help she may have a way. Charlie speaks up that it may be too risky since magic has been effecting her a lot lately. Gabe asks what all it involves. Ruby and Sam explain. Dean pipes up its too dangerous asking if there's another way. Gabe states he may have a safer way with Artemis being a god. Jo agrees that an alternative would be safer. Henry Sam and Alex agree.

8. Artemis is located via Gabe’s way. Everyone gets ready packing up to go. Gabe and Donna explain this is gonna be harder than other battles. Charlie says she can set up her equipment and wire everyone so she can monitor and watch and warn of any danger. Everyone agrees it’s a good idea. Once everyone is wired up and ready, the team leaves. (Driving or popping whichever). Artemis is awaiting their arrival.

9. Donna shares her thoughts and feelings with Artemis. Gabe reminds her she’s merely human with no baby grace to help her this time. Dean speaks up demanding her to end her feud. Gabe silences him again. Jacques comments this isn’t going to end well for many. Artemis reacts to all. Gabe reminds them they are here to talk things out first and foremost. Cass and Jody agree while Cass senses it isn’t going to end well.

10. Battle with Artemis ensues. (free run)

0 notes

because-its-important · 7 years ago

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i. the rest of my batch at RC

I spent the first six weeks of my batch at Recurse Center in an out-and-out sprint. I learned Python, built and released projects, and wrote blog posts every week. I wasn’t sure where my limits were, but I was determined to find out - preferably by overshooting them, then adjusting after the fact.

A curious thing happened. I kept finding that I was more than capable of starting and finishing projects, especially when I had a firm mental image of the end goal. There were at least as many unexpected good-turns as there were setbacks, and I certainly didn’t come up against any inscrutable barriers. Mostly the challenge was in overcoming the distance between a thing that doesn’t exist and a thing that does, which I was able to sort out pretty handily through a consistent application of effort across time.

Who’d have thought?

A selfie taken on my birthday, which also happened in the last few months and was really great!

The second half of my batch was not so visibly productive - with the exception of The Question Game. The Question Game is a simple game designed to help groups of people get to know each other better IRL. I designed it with my friend Brittany a few years ago as an icebreaker when we found ourselves in a group of folks who knew us but didn’t really know each other. The game only really needs a method of generating random numbers for a small but arbitrary group size, but building it out as a toy webapp was a good excuse to get practice working with a JS-only stack. I learned React, got a lil more familiar with node, and even went as far as to attach an otherwise completely unnecessary PG database and Sequelize ORM. You can see the code for it here. Outside of this project, however, I didn’t publish any code. I didn’t publish any writing, either.

So I’d like to take a moment and shine a bit of light on the work that I did during the rest of my batch.

🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘

First, I made the decision to leave community.lawyer, the social impact startup I co-founded in 2016 following the Blue Ridge Labs Fellowship.

I’m happy to report that I left on the come up, which seems a rare and privileged thing for a founder to be able to say. Gaining traction in a hyper-specialized industry like legal tech takes a gargantuan amount of sustained forward momentum, and I departed just as we began to reap the fruits of our labor. In the last few months community.lawyer has reached final approval on partnerships a year in the making, won federal grants we’d submitted to in 2016, and every day our software is being used to help connect people who have legal needs with credible lawyers. Our first two partners were exactly the types of legal organizations at the heart of our mission: the Justice Entrepreneurs Project and the DC Reduced Fee Lawyer & Mediator Referral Service.1 Based in Chicago and Washington DC respectively, these orgs are specifically chartered to deliver quality services at rates that more Americans can afford. I am so proud. ⚖️

Second, I started my first ever job hunt as a software engineer. Wowee, this was scary! I knew that I had to prepare for interviewing, which meant a) getting my career change narrative straight, b) studying Data Structures & Algorithms 101, and c) learning how to perform my handle on both of these in a live, semi-adversarial environment.

At one point during my batch my laptop broke. I read through this wonderful illustrated book during the two days it was being fixed.

In order to direct my search I also had to craft a set of selection criteria of my own. Foremost: “What good will my work do for the world?”2 Additionally, “What degree of access will I have to supportive mentors?”

Getting started with interview prep was a challenge, at least partly because I had so many options for where to start. But I did get started! I read Cracking the Coding Interview, I did the free trial and weekly free problems on Interview Cake. I attended a few group mock interviews at Recurse Center and signed up for a 1-1 mock interview with an RC alum. Her name is Leah, and she’s amazing - the superbly friendly and encouraging Comp Sci TA I wish I’d had years ago. 💚Brittany also set up mock technical screens for me with her pals, Leaf and Ian. They were the vanguard against my outsized anxiety about programming for an audience and they each took the time to give me solid feedback.

Third, I extended my batch at Recurse Center by another 6 weeks. I had decided early on I wouldn’t extend (for no real reason) and stuck with this decision up until two days before my batch ending. A small group of folks - Lily, Connor, Alicja and I - went to NYX in Union Square to try out lipsticks. We played with different colors and finishes (satin! matte! shimmer!) for half an hour or so. There came a point when I looked up, glanced across the narrow makeup store at my beautiful friends’ beautiful faces and thought, “You know, you don’t have to leave yet, right? What’s the rush?” I’d already accomplished my primary goal, to forcibly rework my identity as an engineer, but it sure seemed that I could stand to reach for a second one. That night I decided to extend my batch, with the intention of sampling a more open method of self-directed learning, i.e. with a little more chill and a lot less panic. Specifically, I wanted to practice connecting meaningfully with my limited supply of social energy.

In my bonus six weeks, I: gave three talks (2 planned, 1 impromptu) under encouragement from Ayla and Lily, learned to juggle thanks to instruction from a fellow RCer, Edward, who also loaned me a book about learning, made it into weekly Feelings Check-in (read as: opt-in support group) fairly regularly, picked my first ever lock, saw a live-coding show and then later attended two live-coding workshops (one on TidalCycles, another on Super Collider), sat in a dark room and played howling wolf clips while Microsoft Sam read grimoires aloud, got my hair braided for the first time in a decade, made dumplings and DJ’d for a dinner party, connected with folks about queer-poly relationships, gave fiery advice, and received compliments so earnest and rational and persistent that it was difficult to refute them.

Zine fair plus Lightning Bolt concert inside a movie theater in Times Square??

I also put my interview prep to use and interviewed with a handful of Recurse Center partner companies. Job searching meant squaring off against impostor syndrome and a ton of related anxieties in rapid succession. I successfully choked most of that down when it mattered, though, and it was only a couple short weeks before I received my first offer.

To that end, I’m super happy to say that I’ll be joining Blink Health as a Fullstack Product Engineer! Blink Health is a healthcare startup in SoHo. They make it easier for people to afford prescription drugs, especially for those with limited insurance plans or none at all. These savings aren’t trivial either: an extra $50 can spare someone from choosing between groceries or medicine that week, and for some folks Blink saves many times that. I’ll be starting at the end of this month. ✌️🤓

The last two years have been a wild ride: participating in a social impact fellowship and accelerator, busting my product chops and learning web dev to get a public benefit company off the ground, then diving into four months of self-directed learning at Recurse Center. I’m really looking forward to having some externally imposed structure again. Real health insurance, too.

ii. some hard truths

I made a few radical life changes in 2016, like getting involved in activist spaces, dating more, biking everywhere, building strong friendships, going capital-B Boogying, programming full-time. As I carried those changes forward through 2017, I began to notice a lot of mental and emotional reconfiguration happening to me.

Did you know that along its way to becoming a butterfly, a caterpillar nearly completely liquifies inside its cocoon?

Psychological growth is confusing, full of false starts, and generally painful. You’ve got the static pain of stretching beyond your limits, the pleasure-pain of feeling an old knot finally release, the frustrating pain of stubbing your toe because some helpful asshole has been rearranging your psychic furniture when you weren’t looking. There’s the more dramatic knife-in-the-gut pain of realizing that just because you’re growing doesn’t mean the people closest to you are, and that now in certain cases what you previoulsy regarded as friendship actually looks a whole lot like run-of-the-mill exploitation or even emotional abuse, if you're being honest, and it's a realization that only hurts more because it’s so irredeemably cliche and boring. And despite all that pain you gotta go ahead and grow anyway, claw your way out of the relative comfort of ignorance. Transcendence may not be the only show in town but afaik it’s the one most worth watching.

Prior to attending Recurse Center I’d spent lots of time exploring my surroundings and cataloguing people and places worth coming back to. My view of myself did change (and positively!) as a consequence. But sooner or later, ya get tired of the taste of low-hanging fruit.

So, armed with the bookshelf of a philosophy grad and a burgeoning psychoanalytic vocabulary begging to be let off leash, I decided to use my time at RC to try confronting a few of my Hard To See truths in addition to becoming a better programmer.

Here’s what I’ve found so far.

Truth #1: People like me a lot. This causes me problems.

I’ve been metabolizing this one for some time. I remember having a conversation with Brittany in January of 2016. I don’t remember what social anxiety I’d been vocalizing, but I must have been worrying that someone “hated me.” Brittany cut me off, exasperated in the way that only a friend can be in the face of utter delusion: “No one hates you Nicole! You’re always worried that people don’t like you and it’s never true!”

I carried that admonishment with me through two years of voracious friendship-building. On the whole, seeing that people do in fact enjoy and seek out my company has curbed the most egregious overreaches of my social anxiety. But reckoning with my anxiety honestly has also meant acknowledging that my compulsive instinct to withdraw from social situations is also a protective (if suboptimal) response to a few very real dangers.

Most acutely: being friendly, generous, and intensely empathetic makes me a ready target for users. I try to give people the benefit of the doubt for as long as I can, which makes me proportionally susceptible to being taken advantage of and then gaslighted about it. A lifetime of socialization as a petite woman don’t help, neither. This leads to a pattern where, semi-regularly, I look up and take stock of how someone has been treating me and realize that the answer is Very Badly, For Quite A While. This in turn leads to rough periods of cutting ties and moving on. Ideally I’d like to be be able to filter bad actors out sooner, but I also want to stay open, giving, and hopeful beyond reason. Those desires are fundamentally at odds with each other - raising vs. lowering one’s defenses - but it’s clear that I need to come up with a strategy that balances both.

More broadly, though, I operate under an ever-present dread of inevitably disappointing everyone who knows me. Whether people project onto me because they already like me or like me more because they project positively onto me, I am extremely sensitive to the fact that when people meet me the conception they form has waaay more to do with what they want to find than what’s actually there. My body is a surface readily projected upon: young, female-shaped, ethnically ambiguous, small, smiling. These well-intended projections cause me the most trouble when people see me interacting socially; they’ll witness fifteen minutes of seemingly effortless extroversion on my part and extrapolate out massively. As far as they’re concerned I’ve got plenty of social energy to spare, and if I don’t spend it hanging out with them, it must be because either my friendliness is fake or I don’t like them.

Pretty much none of this is conducted consciously, of course, but it still creates a lot of unnecessary pressure that I can’t pretend not to feel and resent. I know there are people who dream about attaining this kind of “popularity” - to be assumed Cooler than one truly is - but getting buffeted around by folks’ totally unexamined, unarticulated psychological desires mostly sucks.

Truth #2: I’m non-binary.

I’ve also spent a very long time resisting this one. Two decades on the rack, easy. As such, the story of getting here is long. Perhaps one day I’ll tell it. 😛

The short of it, though, is this: I’m probably at least as much of a boy3 as I am a girl. Outside of where my life has been mutated by the chronic background radiation of sexism, “benevolent” and otherwise, I don’t strongly identify as a woman. Furthermore, I find the two-gender system to be infinitely more alienating than comforting. Gender is a social construction designed to impose order on the natural messiness of sexual experience, and as far as I’m cool with that, I am decidedly Not Cool with the “normal” state of affairs, i.e. aggressively shoving whole human beings into an absurdly reductive false dichotomy.

Between its either-or-ism and its forced assignment, the traditional approach to gender reveals itself to be obviously bullshit to anyone who spends more than a few minutes thinking about it. Its boundaries are arbitrary, inconsistent, and generally ill-fitting at the level of individual experience, which why they require such an outrageous amount of coercion and bodily violence to enforce. As much as other folks want to participate in a system of ritualized violence I guess they are free to? Personally, I’d prefer to see it actively dismantled.

If gender is to be saved it’ll be by subverting it, taking it apart, remaking it into something life-affirming. Not the dehumanizing garbage we’ve got now.

As of yet I don’t have any plans to change my presentation because I don’t fuckin’ gotta!

I do have a preference towards They / Them pronouns, but She / Her is still fine. For most of my friends this isn’t going to be at all surprising nor will it in any way negatively impact our relationship. Anyone who needs me to just-be-a-girl, however, can expect turbulence.

Truth #3: My righteous anger is justified and I am good at using it to help others.

I have felt conflicted about my anger for a long time. Since a very vocal childhood I have been regularly frustrated by prejudices and injustices, and I was frequently the first voice of dissent against them, whether that meant challenging adults or my peers. Unsurprisingly, I became well acquainted with the standard strokes of the backlash.

When you are confronting bigotry in a mixed environment, the voice of the status quo will generally manifest in one of two ways:

Gaslighting, e.g. “you are wrong to have said this at all, obviously I am a Good Person, you are just imagining that what I said sounded like XYZ, honestly how could you even think this, as a matter of fact it is I who is offended!”

Tone policing, e.g. “you’re too upset about this! after all, I, the person who did Fucked Up Thing, am perfectly calm about Fucked Up Thing, so any amount of anger makes you irrational by contrast, and I get a raincheck on whatever this is about!”

I know these responses are repulsive. I know they are merely the signs of a weak and imperiled ego acting out of fear. And yet I still spend an inordinate amount of time second-guessing my own anger. Gaslighting and tone policing are a favored weapon of the status quo because they work, and they work in direct proportion to how agreeable their target wants to be.

content warning: the following segment talks about sexual harassment and assault

About couple weeks ago I had the misfortune of being sexually harassed at a club in Bushwick. After numerous rejections and explicitly telling a creep bothering me, my friends, and other women in the club to get lost, I finally went to get a bouncer to eject him. The bouncer got the creep to leave. When I went to thank him, the bouncer told me a whole story about how the creep was “a harmless guy.” Then he reached down and grabbed my ass. Presumably he felt entitled to do this after helping me get rid of a person I asked him to remove... for unwanted touching.

It Really Sucked.

At every turn during the whole ordeal (and its aftermath) I had to hold onto my anger, convince myself that I wasn’t overreacting, remind myself that anyone who thought this was acceptable to do to me is almost certainly doing worse to more vulnerable people. I kept picturing myself the way this guy, this man in a position of power, must have seen me in order to feel okay doing what he did. That I was young, small, female, too friendly to say No, already indebted anyway; that he was one of the Good Guys, that his behavior was also “harmless” because he had decided it was. I conjured up as much anger as I could, pushed down the nausea of envisioning my own degradation from an attacker’s POV, and got to work. I reached out to the club and was quickly put in contact with the owner. The venue now has a publicly posted zero tolerance sexual harassment policy. The entire staff is going through training with a local org dedicated to creating safer nightlife spaces. And that motherfucker has been fired.

I demonstrably made the world better. I wasn’t alone, but all that happened because of my actions. Me and my anger, we did that.

I wish more people were this fucking angry. 💢

~ end of content warning ~

iii. an opinion

My Saturn return is upon me, y’all. As Frank Ocean serenades, we’ll never be those kids again. I have lived a few of these here nine lives and it seems only prudent to be moving forward with some sort of opinion on the matter.

My opinion is this: us folks with financial and physical security should be spending more time fixing shit around here. Figuring out what needs fixing and how you might help are the first steps.

If you’re operating on a similar scale of privilege as I am, maybe that means changing jobs to do more mission-oriented work. If you can’t swing a change of that magnitude, maybe it means showing up to community events and engaging with, caring for, supporting people you otherwise wouldn’t talk to. Churches, libraries, volunteering, supporting local artists, participating in local politics - this all counts. If you’re already doing this sorta thing, that is awesome! Maybe you also have a friend worth inviting who you sense is just itching for a chance to exercise compassion?

I’m using “fixing” pretty loosely here, too. Fixing, to my mind, means making the world brighter, safer, and sweeter for your fellows, human and otherwise. We’ve all got different ideas about what that looks like, and there are definitely folks - myopic or malevolent or both - who will swear up and down that their fear- and hate-driven behaviors will bring about better world. Ultimately, though, I believe that many hands reaching towards their personal vision of Better will in fact make things Better, especially when that vision is informed by meaningful interaction with the real world and its real sorrows and its real triumphs.

But ya gotta reach. Ya gotta try.

I am so tired of hearing my well-fed, well-homed friends piss and moan about late capitalism4 without lifting a damn finger in service of the communities bearing the brunt of material hardship. Unfettered capitalism sure does have a marked tendency to wreak havoc on organic life! But capitalism is not a monolith, and lamenting the abuses perpetuated by its principle benefactors as unchanging or inevitable only normalizes them. Any investigation into the history of capitalism (or the broader phenomena of how a Few come to subjugate the Many) will very quickly disabuse you of the notion that this shit is going to stop without a great deal of active resistance.5

So unless you are personally doing work to put our current strand of democracy-withering corporatism six-feet-under, seriously, just STFU instead. Your nihilism is boring! You don’t sound woke! Save it for your local DSA working group!

Which isn’t to say that I’m not convinced of the wickedness6 of the problems we’re facing: skyrocketing wealth disparity with no relief in sight; the destruction of most of Earth’s biodiversity via mass extinction; a pernicious climate of racism and xenophobia that scapegoats black and brown folks and then visits misery upon them; the weight of an aging population bearing down on the shittiest healthcare system of any nation in its class; a widely disenfranchised electorate further fragmented and fatigued by hyper-polarization; the gendered terrorism that is inflicted daily on women, trans and non-binary folks, and queer people at large; a rising wave of depressive anxiety as people become more aware of these problems and how thoroughly they’ve been disempowered from changing things for the better.

So yeah, I get it. These are hard problems. I just don’t see any better option than trying anyway. I want to spend my time fixing things around here and encouraging others to try their hand too. You already know the bad news: real change is hard and it can take a very long time. You might work your whole life sowing seeds whose fruit you never get to taste.

The good news, however, is that you can get started whenever and wherever you are. The good news is that a sense of purpose is its own reward.

iv. how to get started

When you’ve got hard work ahead of you, your best bet is to use your beautiful human brain and create some leverage. Ask Archimedes about it.7

Lever systems got two parts:

The lever, which is the tool you use to amplify your effort. The longer your lever is, the easier your job will be.

The fulcrum, which is the wedge the lever rests on. The nearer your fulcrum is to the thing you want to move, the easier your job will be.

If you’re starting from zero - “I want to do more for the world but I don’t know how!” - my advice is to forget about the lever arm for now. A lever ain’t shit without a fulcrum, anyway. Your time is better spent exploring the world, keeping an eye out for problems you’d like to solve, and identifying nearby points of leverage. If you want to get into activism, a fulcrum might be volunteering to fold pamphlets for an organization with a mission you believe in. If want to see more self-expression in the world, it might be might be inviting your friends to a zine-making class or hosting your own arts and craft night.

The best fulcrum is one that makes you Feel Good when you apply any amount of effort against it. Too many people get caught up in a self-defeating belief that if they can’t give 110% of their creative energy to something they might as well not try. I can confidently say that trying is itself a virtue. Every time you try even a little bit you make it easier for yourself to try again later, and more importantly, you make trying easier for others. A bunch of people altering their behavior a smidge in the same direction doesn’t add up to nothing; on the contrary, it’s a sea change.

If you’ve got a decent idea of the types of problems you want to solve, though, and you’ve tested your fulcrums, and you are thinking, “Okay, but is this all I’m capable of giving?” then it’s probably time to work on your lever. Given your own interests and inclinations, what skills can you develop that will increase the good you’re doing 10x, 100x over? This is the long game, but it scales a whole lot better than “keep doing what I’m already doing, but more.”

For me right now this means deepening my technical knowledge, building a resilient support network, and sharing what I’m learning. Helping others has been a powerful motivator for self-improvement, not the least of which because it’s a convenient shortcut through the snarl of self-confidence issues.

I am so grateful that Recurse Center was a stop on lengthening my lever! What a concentrated cluster of helpful, considerate beings.

I’ve spent the last two years wandering around New York City in wide-eyed wonder, asking myself the most ambitious question I could think of: how do you save the world?

Getting older comes with a lot of downsides, but asking yourself big questions and living your life as the answer is the primary pleasure of adulthood. It took a ton of courage to get started and I am still frequently awed to find myself moving in the right direction. I’m humbled by the grace and fortitude of the folks who’ve been at this for way longer.

I’m also a hell of a lot happier. This summer’s gonna be rad. ☀️

There are lots of extraordinarily sexy company names like this in the legal world. ↩︎

Having the choice to direct my energies in this way is a privilege. Working in tech gives me this freedom of motion and I have been drawn to software engineering in part because it is the freest of the free (if you still gotta labor for your living). ↩︎

😱😫😖😬😬😬... 😏 ↩︎

Substitute with whatever modifier is en vogue. As a point of fact, “late capitalism” is a term that’s been floating around for literally over a hundred years. ↩︎

Thankfully, history also clearly demonstrates that the tide can be turned. ↩︎

“The use of the term ‘wicked’ here has come to denote resistance to resolution.” Wikipedia page. ↩︎

“Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall move the world,” etc etc. ↩︎

#recurse center

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praphit · 7 years ago

Text

BP: When I think of his blackness and what he's done for me

Black Panther, baby!

I’ve been waiting for this movie for a long time! I remember the day I first saw the trailer for this movie, I was like Denzel with the one tear drop

- frickin beautiful. I’ve been saying that “Black Panther” is for black people what “Wonder Woman” was for women in 2017. I can remember back when WW first came out last year, I was at the coffee shop down the street, feeding my addiction. There was a girl behind the counter – I asked her for my usual.

She replied “What so I’m just supposed to know what that is?” Praphit: “Well, I come here often, so…” Irritated Girl: “Wha, wha, what that mean? You just assume I’ve paid attention to you? Matter of fact, you just assuuuumed I’d get you some coffee this morning.” Praphit: “But, don’t you work here?” Empowered Girl who is starting to scare the Praphit: “What because I’m a woman I must be a servant huh?? Just another woman getting some man whatever he wants… that’s all I am to you?” Praphit: “… huh” Girl who must have believed she was Wonder Woman herself: “ Did you just call me a bitch?!” Praphit: “What? No!” An angry, scary version a WW: “But I bet you thought it!”

Then, she gave me the finger, mooned me(that's right, MOONED me! - who even does that anymore??)… and then walked out. Then, came The Harvey Weinstein Storm, men scared everywhere by #MeToo, and Louis CK hiding out… possibly wherever Kevin Spacey has been hiding out. I never did see her again... I also never got my coffee.

I hope she's ok and found another job. I know Gal Gadot (Wonder Woman) is her hero, but... it's not like she's gonna feed all of the inspired jobless ladies out there. Anyway, as strange as that encounter was, I get it! Empowerment will do that to a person; it feels righteous! Now, Black Panther, baby! Black people… we’re going to have a hashtag too. Maybe #bleepwhitey… that may be a lil strong, but something! It’s coming! This movie is a big deal! - so big of a deal that white executives in Hollywood were planted in critic circles in pre-screenings to stir up bad reviews.

The white people running Hollywood were like “We’ve gotta knock this movie down a few pegs before we have another ‘storm’ on our hands! Women are already rising up…. Black people rose up recently with #OscarsSoWhite, we can’t have it happen again. What’s next??! Who's gonna rise up next??! Asians?! Latinos?! Little People?! We can’t have this?!” There’s already a belief out there that you can’t have a worldwide blockbuster with the main character being black. So, how is this movie REALLY?? That’s why your Praphit is here for you:) “Black Panther” starts out right after “Civil War” (currently my fav comic book movie:) What I appreciate about Marvel movies is how well they are written; not just individually, but how they all come together. Of course (spoiler alert from “Civil War”) the king of Wakanda is dead, and now his son T’Challa (Black Panther) is heir to take over! Black Panther as we know is played by Chadwick Boseman. I love him as Black Panther!

Some may say he’s not aggressive enough to be king/BP, but I think someone who’s always calm, even when they’re angry is scarier than someone who wears their emotions on their sleeves. One second, you think everything is cool, and the next you’re on your back, hurting, with Chadwick Boseman smiling at you. Wakanda is beautiful! I like what Marvel did here. Marvel is really good at creating worlds that look and feel real. I'm willing to bet that some believe Wakanda is real... probably our president.

I'm telling you,there's a speech coming up when Trump will say something like

" We've got to make America great in tech again. I had Mike Pence go to the movie theatre to watch this documentary called "Black Panther", I had him leave quickly in protest (there were too many black and brown people there - I only bring it up because many of them were illegals..), but we had others stay and report back to me. Wakanda, this terrorist country... possibly where Barack Obama is really from; we don't know... we don't know... but, they turned their shithole of a country into an empire with this amazing metal called "Vibranium" (Idk if you've ever heard of it, because it's AMAZING). I'm telling you, we're going to get ahold of even more Vibranium than those savages and use it to make America #1 in tech again." - you tell me I couldn't write for the prez:) Many have described Wakanda as Zamunda (another fictional nation in Africa from “Coming to America”) in the future. I think those people have it right.

If Eddie Murphy took Zamunda 100 years into the future, and stole all of Apple’s tech (imagine how scary Apple will be in 100 years), and then came back to the present… and used this tech to create… idk… a super tech “Eddie Land”, it’d be Wakanda. They are also the leading source of Vibranium (strongest medal around this comic book universe). The plot is layered, but they make it work. I was surprised that a product of Disney would go into such deep waters. Race is of course dealt with – not only in the movie, but simply by this movie’s existence. I can remember when I was younger, the only comic book characters to dress up as or play make believe as were Superman, Batman, Spiderman, and The X-Men. But, no black characters. I mean… I could have dressed up like Storm for Halloween, but…

or it might have looked more like this -

- maybe rock a... mankini silver top, and some dark purple eye shadow and lip stick... so there was that I guess. Picture me as a little boy dressed up like that - I'd make it work. Let’s move on:) I also love how these characters are portrayed – there are lots of different cultures of black people, but all the differences in appearance and worldviews are highlighted as positives in this movie. It truly is (on a comic book movie scale of course) a celebration of black people from different walks of life. There are no dummies or potheads or gangsters – but black people are all represented as strong, smart, and capable in this movie; even the villains! Michael B Jordan!

I probably liked him more than Black Panther. His character is smart, calculated, complex and easy to sympathize with, even though he’s the main villain. As far as portraying strong women – I think “Black Panther” does it even better than “Wonder Woman” did. Again, showing the strength of different types of women. Danai Gurira (whom I’m in love with by the way… just sayin’… if somehow you’re reading this… you can find me in Bmore:)

She has a scene in the beginning of the movie that displays courage, strength, command, and yet also warmth and beauty. It's hard to keep a strong willed woman character balanced in a story without it going in a wrong direction, or without her becoming "one note" (idk if y'all know what I mean), but the writing and Gurira's performance are perfect with this; as well as the other female characters - I'd love to see a movie with them as the stars. They also tackle colonialism, mainly through Martin Freeman.

This motha bleeper right here stole Samuel L Jackson’s part. Where the hell is Sam L?!

How you gonna have the blackest movie of the year without Sam L?!

Anyway, Martin Freeman does a good job, but I couldn’t watch him without getting mad. Whitey! - you just couldn’t let us have one movie to ourselves could you??! This movie even tackles politics, generational black community issues, African traditions, and culture wars in the black community (again through the filter of a comic book movie, but still). A lot of this movie is about what type of king T’Challa wants to be, what type of king his people want/need, and how (or if) a nation should use its strengths to help one other nations. Marvelous (no pun intended) how they blended all of these things together. Can I talk about the sexiness??! -cuz whew! My future wife

(I also love how her character (Okoye) is so confident and committed to what she believes. She should be running Wakanda to tell you the truth)

My other future wife

(Lupita Nyong'o here as Nakia has her arm wrapped up with T'Challa here... and I don't like the way she's gazing into his eyes, but I believe I've still got a shot. That dress made me fall out my chair.)

And many more – tons of sexiness in this movie, but not in an exploitive manner. It’s not just the looks, but the character, the ideals, the strength, the honor that adds to everyone’s sexiness.

And it’s the men too! Even I’ve got to admit that Michael B Jordan looks damned good.

Though I couldn't find a good picture of him... you need context for what's going on with his torso (besides being jacked)... his hair messed up, and he looks like he has marbles in his mouth right now. Let me try again (not that he doesn't make that work).

There he is - with a lil nip slip action.

He's one of those men where when he walks in and steals your girlfriend or wife, you say to yourself "I understand." Shiiii, you get some drinks in you, and YOU might be leaving with him. Ladies, forget “Fifty Shades of Bullshit”, you’ve got all of the sexiness you need in this movie right here. So, you say “John Praphit, is there anything bad about this movie?” NO! Quit looking to downgrade black movies you racists! :) Nothing “bad”, but I did have a few issues. This IS a comic book movie after all, and despite the commendation I’d give this movie for veering off the typical Marvel scripted formula, I would have liked a lil more action. The action was good, but not great. Also, I would have loved more of Michael B Jordan. His character is so good! Mikey B does an excellent job making us feel - whether it’s sympathy, hatred, or disgust in his way of thinking; he makes it happen. I would have loved to see more of his interaction with the people of Wakanda. The ending felt rushed. Not only with characters jumping from loving one another to wanting to kill one another (and vice versa), but also in CG. It’s like they didn’t have enough in the budget to crank up the last fight scene… that money probably went to Martin Freeman

.. you rat bastard. I'm sorry. He was good, but still #wherethehellisSamL? Besides, all of that I loved this movie! Very entertaining! It was funny. It has a lot of good talking points in it. And it’s a big deal for black people! Grade: B+++ First time ever for a “B+++”!!! Originally, a B+, but an extra plus for blackness – seriously, I think it’s a game changer for not only comic book movies, but all types of movies… another stepping stone of progress. I truly believe it’ll have a positive creative impact on our youth as well. And the last plus is for sexiness, cuz.. da

Dammit! Not you Martin Freeman! So help me! *deep sigh* Now I forgot what I was going to say. Anyway, good stuff! On second thought... I'm going to give this movie two grades. The B+++, but also... when I think of his blackness (The king!) - the positive progressive impact that I believe this movie has and will have are too great not to give it an A My Semi Objective Technical Grade: B+++ Blackness Grade: A The only thing that could have made it better on that scale would be if I were in it.

Makes me wanna follow in the footsteps of that now probably homeless barista. Quit my job and march onto righteousness!

Can’t wait for “BP2!

#black panther #wakanda #john praphit #praphitproductions.com #Danai Gurira #lupita nyong'o #chadwick boseman #Praphit #movies #Movie Reviews #marvel #barista #womens rights #civilrights #black people #martin freeman

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