#source: runaway brain

[shadow-coolness]

Ludwig: Oh, don't be shy. It's not just a job. It's an adventure!

Bradford: I hate adventure!

Ludwig: PERFECT! You're hired!

[stinkywritin]

SpideyLix blurb

Synopsis: Felix has been Spider-Man for a few months now and he feels like he’s gotten the hang of the job, until he has to save his life long crush from a dangerous situation

*short story I came up with and wanted to get out asap cause I’ve had severe Spidey-Lix brainrot*

Warnings: intended male reader, mild swearing, absolutely no grammar or spell checking, honestly just a little over 3300 words of cringe dialogue/action

It’s been five months since he got bit, three months since he unofficially took up the job of Spider-Man, but he’s spent two years crushing over y/n l/n and Felix is still nowhere near being confident enough to ask him out. He spends his evenings swinging down the busy city streets and helping people from getting mugged, for fucks sake just last week he caught a runaway bus that had its brakes give out before it went crashing into oncoming traffic; and yet every time y/n sends him a small smile Felix feels his knees start to give out underneath him. The two boys had been acquaintances since kindergarten, y/n had moved across the street from Felix and he has been smitten for his new neighbor ever since five year old Felix saw five year old y/n trying to ride his scooter on his front lawn. He liked to think it was love at first sight; while on his nightly patrols Felix’s brain would rattle with thoughts of y/n, he’d replay all his favorite interactions with his crush while daydreaming about what a relationship with y/n would look like. Felix took his role of Spider-Man very seriously, he felt it was his responsibility to use his abilities for good instead of for his own gain or to put down others. He had years of having his kindness being taken advantage of, he always tried to help the people around him even before he got bit by the spider, which meant Felix knew firsthand how negative the world around him could be and how greedy humans were capable of being. But he also knew that the good always overpowered the evils around him, so Felix tried his hardest to be a source of good in the world.

But he was still human, he was still only one person. One person who was head over heels for the boy across the street.

Felix shot a web at a light pole, swinging over the roofs of the cars below him while he swung back home from his nightly patrol. He’d start immediately after class got out — sometimes beforehand but he rarely cut class for Spider-Man duties — and swing by all the local shops in the area before moving into the main city. Felix would scope out from rooftops, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious before moving along, trying his best to keep a low profile but daylight made it difficult. Once the sun sets is when Felix would consider the work to really start.

With the nightfall usually comes a wave of pickpockets or other threatening types, this is when Felix’s heightened senses come to help him become more attentive to the dark city streets.

It’s a windy Friday night at 8:56 pm, Felix is perched on the rooftop of a tall brick building, surveying the busy street corner below. He’s across from a corner store, one of his regular checkpoints since he’s — sadly— had to stop a lot of robberies and fights at this shop in the past, Felix would often hang out near the shop if he knew there was only one employee on the clock, acting as a makeshift bodyguard from the shadows. He’s just about to take out his phone to check his messages—mostly his aunt asking him to pick up groceries or his best friend Hyunjin spamming with photos of his art and dog— when he spots a familiar figure walk up the front door of the corner store. It wasn’t rare for Felix to see y/n outside of class, and yet it still caught him by surprise every time. He sees y/n pull on the front door, hearing the familiar door chime and his crush’s sweet voice greeting the employee. Felix is still gushing about how nice you are—he thinks it’s so sweet that you try to greet everyone so kindly—when he catches sight of a hooded figure clambering into the shop. He feels a familiar chill run down his spine and the hairs on his arm standing up, Felix doesn’t think twice before leaping off the rooftop and swinging to the entrance of the shop.

Felix takes a quick glance into the shop through the glass door, he sees the hooded man holding a gun at face level to the young and terrified cashier with one hand and using his other arm to harshly grip y/n in a headlock. He doesn’t need to hear anything to know the man is holding y/n hostage, intending to hurt the innocent boy if the cashier doesn’t comply with his demands, and Felix knew he could not let that happen. With all his previous ‘nightly patrol endeavors’—as he liked to call them, Felix always felt a sense of urgency to make sure all the surrounding civilians were safe but seeing the boy he cared so deeply about being in danger caused Felix to feel a sudden rush of perturbation.

Felix swung the door open, thankfully slipping into the store unnoticed by the only other people in the shop; the cashier, the guy holding y/n hostage, and y/n, the crush of his life. Felix shot a web at the man’s gun, shocking the guy while Felix yanked it from his grasp before he could process that he was suddenly unarmed.

“Listen I don’t know if you read the sign out front or not-“ Felix casually talks and now points to a paper sign taped on the front glass door reading ‘no weapons allowed’. He continues, now that he has everyone’s attention, “or if you even can read, but this here’s against the rules pal.”

While Felix was chatting, his hands were busy disassembling the gun he just took from the man, he had taken the barrel out of the weapon before throwing the separate pieces above him and webbing them to the ceiling. He had effectively disarmed the assailant, but he still had y/n in his grip. “Alright now let the innocent guy go and we can all just head on home.”

He was sure that the cashier had already pressed the panic button underneath the counter—a device he designed in his bedroom after he stopped the fourth person trying to rob that specific corner store— but Felix offered the possibility of letting him go as a way to try and buy himself some time.

The guy answered, “Until this fucker gives me whatever’s in the register,” the man had pulled a small pocket knife from his back pocket—a move Felix didn’t account for—and held it up to the bottom of y/n’s chin, “I’m not letting anyone out of here.”

The tip of the assailant’s knife ends up piercing y/n’s chin, only beginning to break the skin but causing a few drops of crimson to start falling towards his neck. Felix can pick up on a small whimper he hears from y/n, his sense of hearing seemed to also heighten from the spider bite, which meant even now he could faintly hear the sound of y/n’s heart hammering in his chest.

In a move that can best be described as utterly batshit, before he can think twice Felix shoots a web that catches onto the hands of the robber’s knife—and part of his hand. He pulls back on the web before shooting a second one that lands on y/n’s shirt and yanking the boy forward, effectively removing y/n from the assailant’s grasp and into his arms but now that meant Felix had two separate people to protect and one criminal he had attached to the end of his web. Felix didn’t even have a chance to gush over the fact that he—well, okay more accurately Spider-Man—had his crush pulled flush against his chest with his left arm wrapped securely around his waist, if it weren’t for the fact that the robber had just now seemed to snap back into reality and was coming after him, Felix would be freaking out about how perfectly y/n fits in his arms.

Felix prided himself on being able to think clearly under pressure, trying to stay level headed at all times was part of the job, but having y/n in the scenario suddenly made waves of anxiety flow through him. In an effort to keep him safe, Felix began rapid firing webs at the assailant barreling towards him in the hopes of momentarily stopping him. Luckily one of these lands directly between the guy’s eyes and causes him to stumble backwards in a daze, trying to pull the webbing off his face. Felix uses this chance to dash behind the counter and drop y/n next to the cashier while muttering, “stay here I���ll be right back I swear!” He heard the robber’s angry grunts as he continued trying to clean his face and Felix knew now was his perfect chance, he’d blinded him but he needed to act fast.

He jumped on top of the counter and shot two webs at the ceiling, using them to slingshot his body across the store and kick the mugger in the face. The robber fell backwards into some shelves of chips and landed on his back while shouting. He still had the webbing across his face and while laying back against the shelf, Felix webs his legs to the floor to trap the guy in place. The sound of police sirens began growing louder in the distance, Felix looked up and could see the red lights starting to flash through the window. He ran back behind the counter as he heard the officers enter the store, looking for y/n and the store clerk he told to hide.

“Hey you doing okay there?” Felix says, the mask muffling the sound of his voice. He heard the officers starting to handcuff the assailant and cutting the webs to get him off the floor, Felix extended a hand out to y/n to pull the boy up to his feet.

“Yeah” y/n stutters out, “I’m all good just a scratch.” Felix’s worry still didn’t die down, the boy had a knife pressed up to his head just a few minutes ago yet here he was acting as if it was no big deal.

“Okay well if you need anything I can help okay?” Felix replied before addressing both his crush and the store clerk, “I’m gonna bounce since it looks like the cops got this covered now.”

“Thank you Mr. Spider-Man I don’t know what I’d do without your help,” the store clerk says, gratitude coating his words.

“Let’s hope we don’t find out sir,” Felix jokes, trying to cut the serious tone in the air. He’d been doing the job for a while and receiving praise still made him slightly uncomfortable, not because he wasn’t appreciative but because he felt like still wasn’t doing enough.

Felix swings out the front door that was left propped open from the cops, ignoring the shouts from the police telling him to stay. Felix never sticks around to talk to the police since they always try to figure out his identity or try to get him to stop doing his patrols, he tried to stay in his lane not get his identity figured out. As he swings to the rooftops and starts making his way back to his bedroom, Felix’s brain was full of thoughts of y/n and how to potentially comfort him.

—-

The lunchroom was its usual busy and loud scene, the long rectangular tables full of chatting students and halfway decent food. Felix was sat as his usual spot across from his best friend Hyunjin, the only person he could trust with his secret, mostly because he knew how nosey his best friend was and he knew he could never hide something that big from him. Hyunjin immediately noticed how his best friend suddenly became busier in the evenings and showing up the next day with bruises on his knuckles or a black eye, it took two days for Hyunjin to confront his best friend about this new behavior and Felix came clean when he saw the worry in his friend’s eye. Since then Hyunjin has been his trusted confidant and occasionally helped him hide his identity from the public and especially his aunt, he started calling him his “bestie in the chair” much to Hyunjin’s dismay.

Last night after the incident at the corner store and once he snuck into his bedroom without waking up his aunt, Felix spam texted his best friend about ‘saving the love of his life from danger.’ Hyunjin immediately asked for more details and the two spent way too long texting, only for this conversation to continue into the next day.

“You need to tell him it was you!” Hyunjin said after taking a swig from his water bottle. “You saved his life he’ll definitely notice you now!”

“Thanks for the reminder he doesn’t remember I exist dude.” Even with the close proximity due to them living in the same neighborhood, Felix could never bring himself to talk to y/n for longer than five minutes and even then he felt like he never left a lasting impression. Sure y/n always gave him a smile in the hallways and tried to make small talk if he ever saw Felix, but before the spider bite Felix’s nerves wouldn’t let him make eye contact or any form of normal interaction. Even now with the heightened senses and the new air of confidence — he’s Spider-Man even if he wasn’t in the suit it still always made him feel a little cool — his heart still stuttered every time he saw y/n’s kind eyes.

“Yeah but I bet he definitely remembers Spider-Man saving his ass from a robber” Hyunjin whisper shouts, quickly darting his head around to see if anyone could overhear him, even though the school deemed them as lonely art nerds and mostly left them alone. “I heard him talking to his friends in gym and he said he would do anything to repay him for saving his life.”

Felix poked around his food with his fork, he missed making his own lunches but he didn’t have any free time to prepack or cook. “He’s not gonna believe me,” Felix furrowed his brows at his friend before continuing, “and besides, I’m not gonna use Spider-Man as a way to try and get a date that doesn’t feel right.”

“You’re too responsible for your own good Lix” Hyunjin sighed before putting his cafeteria cookie on his friend’s plate, knowing his affinity for sweets.

—-

The shrill sound of the last bell ringing floods Felix’s ears as he jumps up from his seat and makes his way towards his locker to grab his ‘Spidey-bag’ —the one he kept his suit and extra equipment in which Hyunjin unfortunately named. He’s already started mentally preparing his route for his daily patrol when he sees a familiar figure propped up against his locker.

“Hi Felix!” Y/n cheerily greeted the blonde with a small wave and for a second Felix forgot what he even needed from his locker. He awkwardly waved back, a gesture that made the grin on y/n’s face grow wider.

“H y/n,” they stood a few feet apart from each other, with y/n leaning against the other’s locker with his hands now stuffed in his jacket pockets. “Everything okay?”

Y/n chuckled before responding, “Yeah I was just wondering if we could walk back home together?” The question made Felix’s eyes widen slightly while his heart pounded even faster against his ribcage.

“Uh sure,” Felix stuttered out, his cheeks and nose surely bright red now. “Just uh, why are you asking me now? Not that I don’t mind! It’s just, I uh-“ He was a stuttering mess who surely just scared away his crush, Felix thought. Only to hear another giggle erupt from y/n’s mouth, the blonde can see y/n’s ear-to-ear grin.

“Well you said if I needed any help you could help me right?” Y/n replied, Felix started searching his brain for clues as to when he said something like that. A glint of mischief appears in y/n’s eyes when he sees the blonde’s look of confusion, so he gestures to a small bandaid beneath his chin before continuing, “You said so yesterday, remember?”

It suddenly dawned on Felix that while he technically never made any offers, Spider-Man did. He still decided he’d try to play dumb, so he exhales as nonchalantly as he can act before saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about y/n I’m-“

“No I think you do,” y/n pushes himself off of Felix’s locker to come closer, thankfully by this point the hallways have cleared out leaving the two boys in complete privacy for the time being. Y/n gets a few steps closer before finishing, “I think you remember exactly what you told me, Spidey.”

Felix’s eyes widen in shock before he starts to deny everything, stuttering nonsense while avoiding eye contact.

“Felix I think I would know my neighbor is Spider-Man especially after seeing him fall into his bedroom window last night” y/n’s comment stuns Felix into shocked silence. His bedroom window faced the front of y/n’s house, anyone walking down the neighborhood probably would’ve seen him if they just looked up. The two boys stand in silence for a few moments, Felix processing the shock of someone else finding out his identity while y/n patiently waiting on a response.

“Look okay,” Felix lets out a sigh of defeat. He continues, “literally no one else besides my best friend knows please you can’t tell anyone about this”

Y/n cuts him off by softly responding, “I’m not gonna tell anyone don’t worry Felix.” The smile on y/n’s face is warm and if this were any other situation Felix would be gushing over how cute he is, however he let out a sigh of relief knowing his secret would be safe. “I just wanted to thank you for, yknow, saving me last night.”

“Just doing my job,” Felix shyly responds while trying his best to keep eye contact, the pink tint reappearing on his freckled face. He hadn’t noticed how close y/n had gotten until he was a mere centimeters away, “being your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

“Still,” y/n placed a short peck on the blonde’s cheek before continuing, his voice barely above a whisper, “thank you, I mean it thank you so much Felix”

The spot on his cheek tingled, he felt like his heart was either beating so hard he couldn’t feel it anymore or it’s completely stopped. Felix raised a hand to touch where y/n had pecked him, not once breaking eye contact. Felix gazed into y/n’s e/c eyes, while no words were exchanged he could see the admiration and fondness in y/n’s eyes mirrored his own. They’d have to talk it through but right now that was all the clarity Felix needed to know his feelings were reciprocated.

“So you gonna walk me home now or?” Y/n’s soft voice broke the silence and Felix’s face erupted into a wide grin.

The look of shock on Felix’s face is broken by a sly smirk, “How about something faster?”

—

“Hold on tight okay?” Felix jumped a little when y/n first wrapped his arms securely around his neck, followed by his legs wrapping around Felix’s midsection. This wasn’t the first time Felix had swung around while carrying someone but this was the first time he would be swinging his crush back to his place, that time he carried Hyunjin wasn’t as nerve wracking as this. Felix had led y/n to the rooftop after sneakily putting his suit on in the empty bathroom stalls, all while trying not to freak out that his crush seemed to like him back just as intensely.

“If you drop me I’m suing Spider-Man for damages” y/n jokes while securing his koala grip around Felix, subtly trying to admire how the blonde looks in his red and blue suit.

“Not gonna happen sweetheart,” Felix shoots his first web and starts to make a running start to launch himself into the air. “I got you, don't worry.”

AN: thanks for reading, I’ll probably update this with another short blurb cause I love spideylix so much:,) -V

[stygiansun-totaleclipse]

(https://www.tumblr.com/stygiansun-totaleclipse/782633319030554624/horses-head-by-josh-pyke-is-super-mc-and?source=share) hey... U wouldn't mind dropping that Playlist right into our grubby little hands.. Right >:3

I’ve been meaning to make one to post for funsies but this ask gave me the push to actually do it! so here you go >:3 💜

And bc the brain rot is real…um 😰 there’s a lot. Anyway I organized it under the cut👇

MC:

All I Think About Now by Pixies

Familia (ft. Bantu) by Nicki Minaj and Anuel AA, from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse

The Dead Come Talking by Roe Kapara

Goodbye by Ramsey, from the series Arcane League of Legends 

Wrecked by Imagine Dragons

You’re Not Welcome by Naethan Apollo

Kieran:

Help I’m Alive by Metric

All Comes Crashing by Metric

rats in my walls by ratbag 

Transcendence by Lindsey Stirling

A Tear in Space (Airlock) by Glass Animals

Big Girls Don’t Cry (Personal) by Fergie

Viva la Vida by Coldplay

Soldier, Poet, King by The Oh Hellos

With God On Our Side by K’naan

Alone on a Hill by Silversun Pickups

If I Were You by Nothing But Thieves

Nihm:

The Cave by Mumford and Sons

FEAST by bludnymph

Where is My Mind? by Pixies

Here Comes Your Man by Pixies

Sweet Disposition by The Temper Trap

Runaway by Yeah Yeah Yeahs

It’s Alright by Mother Mother

Kill of the Night by Gin Wingmore

exit girl by ratbag

Sleep Will Darken it by R. Missing

Creature Comfort by Arcade Fire

Special Different by Lambrini Girls (with Alektis)

Boys Will be Bugs by cavetown (with Alektis)

Lilith/Lucien:

I’m Only Joking by KONGOS

Wasteland by Royal & the Serpent, from the series Arcane League of Legends

Tales of Dominica by Lil Nas X

Hysteric by Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men

Jenny by Studio Killers

Shove It ft. Spank Rock by Santigold (ft Aurynn, pov they tell you to fuck off)

Identity by grandson

Worms by Ashnikko

Thrust by Ashnikko

Halloweenie by Ashnikko

Red by MOTHICA (also Nihm)

Clandestine by Vana

BEG! by Vana

DISGUSTING! by Vana

Fire Meet Gasoline by Sia

ALIVE by Sia

BLEED BUT NEVER DIE by Ecca Vandal

Alibi ft. Pabllo Vittar and Yseult by Sevdaliza

LIGHTS OUT by bludnymph

Hit and Run by Lolo

Samira:

Speed the Collapse by Metric

Snakes by PVRIS & MIYAVI, from the series Arcane League of Legends

In a Spiral by Phantogram

Mister Impossible by Phantogram (with Aurynn)

Attaway by Phantogram

Year of the Snake by Arcade Fire

What Was I Made For by Billie Eilish

Ode To My Family by The Cranberries 

Bluebird by Miranda Lambert

Spinning by GROUPLOVE

Right Back to It by Waxahatchee

WEEDKILLER by Ashnikko

Filthy Rich Nepo Baby by Lambrini Girls

Twenty Seven by Layto

Supermarket by Wetleg

Aurynn:

California Girls by Katy Perry

Super Freaky Girl by Nicki Minaj

Bed Chem by Sabrina Carpenter

ALIVE AGAIN by Lights

Nothing Left to Say by Imagine Dragons

Little Poor Me by Layto

Sail by AWOLNATION

Ashes of Eden by Breaking Benjamin

I Need a Win by Unlike Pluto

Panic Attacks in Paradise by Ashnikko

Chokehold Cherry Python by Ashnikko

Itchin’ on a Photograph by GROUPLOVE

The Line by Twenty One Pilots, from the series Arcane League of Legends

Telepolartears by R. Missing

Invitation ft. Kodie Shane by Ashnikko

Nihm, Lilith/Lucien, and Aurynn (together):

Keep Some Faith ft. Andrea Storm Kaden by JT Music

Cut the Cord by Shinedown

Paint the Town Blue by Ashnikko, from the series Arcane League of Legends

Let Go by Beau Young Prince, from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse

10 x 10 by Yeah Yeah Yeahs

You Make Me Sick by Ashnikko

Cheerleader by Ashnikkko

Worst in Me by Unlike Pluto

Luca/Family:

Welcome to Your Life by GROUPLOVE (Parim and Aurora welcoming their baby sibs to the world :3 ❤️)

Empty Nest by Silversun Pickups (gives me Luca and MC as kids with MCs siblings vibes)

Maps by Yeah Yeah Yeahs (Aurora)

Future Starts Slow by The Kills (sibs)

Somewhere Only We Know by Keane (Parim)

Everybody’s Changing by Keane (Parim)

White Wolf:

Big Bad Wolf by In This Moment

Hellhound ft. Jazmin Bean by DeathbyRomy

Wolves at the Door by Bad Seed Rising

Fate:

Anima Nera by lacunacoil

World Eater by Ashnikko

Halloweenie V: The Moss King by Ashnikko

Misc:

Small Bill$ by Regina Spektor (gives me dark theme song vibes)

Anon Submissions:

Horses Head by Josh Pyke (submitted for: MC, Farah, and Nour)

Casual by Chappell Roan (submitted for: AurynnxMC)

Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives (submitted for: Farah and MC)

I Know Those Eyes/This Man is Dead by Thomas Borchert, from The Count of Monte Cristo (submitted for: L?)

We Become We, from Journey to Bethlehem (submitted for: KieranxMC)

Wasted Summers by juju (submitted for: music video, MC and Farah)

Eu Sem Você by Lilian (submitted for: Luca and MC)

[jadeshifting]

currently trying to (re)create a spn dr and this thing is insane. those guarded codependent guys leave me absolutely no loophole to get myself in it without it being lazy and so not canon and a reach. I think you created like the only possible solution in all the multiverse and I do respect that (you're so cool) but my nostrils are flaring. and my overthinking ass can't just shift and let it sort itself out (bc obviously there IS a way. endless amount of) bc it's blocking me and I can't bring myself to. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

this is making me laugh so hard because even tho i can script anything to happen i too will genuinely sit and stare at the wall until i come up with something that i deem to be canon enough LMAOOO. the crossroads deal came to me out of a desire for angst mostly 🧘‍♀️ i appreciate u thinking i’m cool tho it’s all gonna go to my head for sure

i’ll do my best to give you some ideas real quick, even if it’s just to jog your own brain into producing something showstopping never-seen-before multiversally clever:

JUST OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD, SOME REASONS WHY THE CODEPENDENT WINLOSERS WOULD LET YOU JOIN THEM:

⋆˙⟡ the Winchesters have to safely transport you from one location to another. Bobby or Ellen, or even John if it’s early enough and you jive with that, gives them the task. you’re important and need to get to [ blank ] location safely, but monsters/demons are hunting you. of course, the route to your destination can be as long as you want, and i’m sure they’ll wanna keep you by the end of it

⋆˙⟡ you are an important piece of the puzzle when it comes to Lucifer, Michael and the seals breaking. Castiel plucks you out of your life (whatever that may be) and drops you smack into the middle of the Winchester’s life. they don’t want you there, and you don’t wanna be there—Castiel tells you that you’re gonna work with them, and if you can all stop the seals from breaking, you can go home and everyone gets what they want

⋆˙⟡ they’re going on a big hunt for a demon (think yellow-eyes. multiple states, multiple sources to hunt down this one demon) that has a personal connection to you. because of your vendetta/personal interest, they bring you with them on this one hunt (maybe you’re so useful you stay longer, hm)

⋆˙⟡ the ability you have (if you have one, you know) makes you objectively too helpful to leave behind. perhaps a psychic ability, intuition or something similar. when you end up helping them on one hunt and save their asses, they begrudgingly realize that your abilities are something they’re severely lacking in their arsenal

⋆˙⟡ you’re a runaway, though your family/friends/locals think you were the victim of a demon or monster. the Winchesters search for you during their hunt, and manage to find you, but you beg them not to make you go back to town. when you hear they’re heading to another state, you plead with them to give you a ride just that far—a day’s drive, maybe. they agree because they feel bad for you, but some sequence of events keeps you with them

⋆˙⟡ OR, of course… CROSSROADS DEAL :^) feel free to steal my idea i don’t mind at all

[sevenish-spheres]

Mechs in the Seven Spheres

Art source

Mechanised suits of armour are now a somewhat common sight throughout the Seven Spheres, their pistons hissing and guns thundering across a thousand worlds, and even among the Outer Planes. However, by planar standards they are a relatively recent invention, having developed only within the past few centuries. Despite this, they have rapidly become valued tools by mercenaries and travellers across the planes, alongside their uses as tools of labour in dockyards and warehouses from the walking city of Kelsats to the grim soul-depots of Dis.

History

The history of mechs is a complex one, as several attempts were made to create them during both the Daedalian Golden Age, and the Voidbloom, alongside more recently during the Angelic Cull. However, these attempts were hampered by two things. First, the technology required to allow such suits to move fluidly was virtually non-existent, with the closest being the Chalkespartoi which used a piston-driven, ball-jointed skeleton, although even it was prone to frequent failure. The second and perhaps greater problem was the ability to control the suit, as most required bulky internal joysticks and exo-skeletons to properly transfer the pilot’s movement into the suit’s own limbs. For this reason, most proto-mechs were restricted to use as heavy-lifting tools or for combat within the void, where the structural requirements of the suit itself were lessened in exchange for an increased toll on the pilot.

A change came, however, during the closing battles of the fifth Navirian Crusade. Here, the cult of war-engineers known as the Navirarchs discovered deep wells of a strange, black oil within the bowels of several moons and asteroids in the Greater Kelester system. This oil, later christened Hadal Ichor, had several notable properties. First, it was an incredible conductor. Second, it possessed the ability to replicate itself under certain conditions, and third, it was capable of forming a largely stable interface between the mortal mind and mechanical circuitry. This third property was said to have been discovered when a suit-wearing serf slipped into a deep ichor well whilst extracting the strange substance, and emerged as a powerful fusion of man and machine that took a direct hit from a mage-killer rifle before its runaway regeneration finally failed. This development fascinated the Navirarchs, and it was not long before the earliest frames of the Venator line were deployed, swiftly bringing an end to the fighting and bringing such suits to the public eye throughout the territory of both the Navirarchs and their enemies.

Thanks to their monopoly on mechs, the Navirarchs enjoyed a meteoric ascent in the region for a number of years, although their Venator frames remained relatively fragile and slow, as their joints couldn’t keep up with the stress the Hadal Ichor placed on them. Alongside this, the ichor required immensely high temperatures to replicate itself, meaning large incubators had to be produced to fuel the Venator frames. Finally, pilots who were frequently exposed to the ichor (which was directly injected into the bloodstream via needle-filled cockpits nicknamed Glass Maidens) experienced rapid tissue degeneration, especially in the circulatory system and brain, resulting in most pilots having a life expectancy of six months before their body or mind gave out.

Around this time, the Navirarchs began their last and most devastating crusade against the ancient empire of Vorsaine. Fearful of the Venators potential, the Vorsainites had begun development of their own suits based on the remnants of the truly ancient Chalkespartoi. Because they lacked the interfacing capabilities of the Hadal Ichor, these new frames (named Ferrospartoi) were less able to use complex melee weapons and tended to lose one-to-one engagements with Venators. However, they were significantly faster in both the open field and on rough terrain which the cog-jointed Venators struggled with, meaning oftentimes the Ferrospartoi would pick off the Venators at range before the terrifying cog-suits could even reach them. Because of this stalemate, the war between the Navirarchs and Vorsaine slowed to a stalemate, with engagements increasingly being decided by slower war-engines such as landships and tanks.

This would change, however, with the emergence of Vulture Guilds. By now, the war had spread across multiple star systems, and the remnants of millions of frames littered hundreds of planets, moons and asteroids. Because of this, it took relatively little time for enterprising pirate and salvager captains to begin scavenging and eventually repairing these suits. It took far longer for them to unite, usually through their shared use of a specific frame modification, but eventually several larger salvage captains joined together to form what would become the Vulture Guilds. These guilds swiftly centralised much of the trade in salvaged Venator and Ferrospartoi frames, and once this occurred it didn’t take long for several engineers to experiment with combining the Hadal Ichor interface systems of the venators with the more versatile skeletons of the Ferrospartoi. From these experiments were born the classes of mech collectively referred to as the Firstborn, and from these numerous other frames were created, and their manufacture standardised. These frames were swiftly dispersed among numerous mercenary groups and nobles displaced from war-torn worlds. In short order mercenary companies tore through the inferior Venators and Ferrospartoi, prompting developments on both sides that eventually led to the Battle of the Gilded Plain, so named for the gold-tinted slag left over when both sides deployed terrifying experimental frames upon one another, literally liquifying their foes. Upon the still-cooling plains the leaders of Vorsaine, the Navirarchs, the Vulture Guilds and the heads of the largest mercenary factions came together to sign the Treaty of the Gilded Plain, bringing an end to the war.

After the war, the Vulture Guilds were largely dissolved, forming instead into several notable manufacturers who persist into the present day. These include such legendary companies as the elegant Halistrom, the Navirarch-backed Teleos, the utilitarian Runsk and Basker, and the lethal precision of Nakago. Many of these sponsored mercenary companies of their own, whilst other sellsuits formed their own in-house manufacturers.

Despite all this, most manufacturers were still held back by the cost required to produce the Hadal Ichor, and as fresh wells dried up across the stars, they were forced to pursue alternate sources. The first development was the neural jack, metal links that were surgically embedded into the skin of pilots, removing the need for direct injection, which both lowered the amount of ichor required to operate a suit and significantly increased the amount of time a pilot could operate the suit, in both the short and long term. The more significant development, however, was the discovery of colossal skeletons within the depths of the ichor wells. These skeletons, many of which bore strange gold symbols reminiscent of those found on cultists of Nyarlathotep, were dredged up and through vile necromancies, were raised to undeath. From here, specialist flesh-shapers were employed by manufacturers to transplant bone marrow from these titans into human stock, producing horrifically malformed creatures that bled ichor. These creatures were sealed away beneath ichor refineries, their skin engraved with eldritch symbols and pockmarked by hundreds of pipes that drew precious ichor into the waiting machines above.

By this point much of what a modern person might call a mech was set in place, with relatively few changes occurring in the years between then and now. Instead, most mech manufacturers began to specialise, and knowledge of mech construction began to spread out, with Runsk moving its headquarters to Kelsats, and numerous empires sponsoring their own efforts in the field of mech construction, with the most successful being the terrifying powerful Vorsainite Cataphracts. Alongside this, many smaller firms began developing mechs for specific purposes, such as the Firestrider and Gibbeteer frames, or ones specialised for other species, such as the numerous Igigi-manufactured frames, or the recent experiments emerging from the sixth layer of Pandorum.

Mechs continued to enjoy a role as specialised heavy infantry and fast attack units for several decades, but following their adoption in the Vorsainite War with the Droskol Empire, a group famed for their use of heavy tanks, it was found that, while mechs excelled in dispatching tanks at close range, the tanks decimated them from further away. Hence, an arms race began as the Vorsainites developed faster and more nimble mechs carrying more and more devastating close-range weapons, and the Droskol developed larger and more heavily armoured tanks, culminating in the Vorsainite Drachasta-I frame and the Droskol Uthoroka Fortress-Tank. These terrifying weapons eventually spread and diversified, forming the modern Lancer class of mechs and the basis of landfleet doctrine respectively.

The Hadal Ichor

Pumped in its purest state from fissures deep within dead worlds or stolen from the veins of half-alive cloned titans, hadal ichor is the both the fuel that keeps mech’s moving, and the material that gives the pilot the ability to move the mech at all. It is injected in small quantities into the spinal cord and bone marrow via neural jacks, allowing the pilot to interface with their mech whilst mitigating the effects the ichor has on the body and mind overall. Despite this, the ichor is still exceptionally potent, with most pilots seeing at most a decade of action before their body begins to waste away or, in more common cases, they succumb to an ichor-induced frenzy that leaves both the pilot and anyone around them dead. Indeed, most pilots are forced into retirement long before then, although a few survive longer, with certain legendary pilots keeping their minds for decades, and a dreaded few succumbing partially to the ichor, becoming bloodthirsty but terrifyingly intelligent foes that stalk battlefields for centuries. The exact makeup of the ichor is unknown, as although many suggest it to be organic, it emits a thaumaturgical signature closer to that of magically-active minerals such as urelium than that of a typical form of life. Furthermore, it seems to possess the ability to, in the case of certain pilots who display an exceptional aptitude, heal the metal plating of a suit and, in similar circumstances, allow the mech to move in ways that should be both physically impossible given the mech’s joint configuration, and at speeds that should cause the mech to fall apart from stress. What is broadly accepted, however, is that these abilities are tied to how deeply the pilot connects to the suit, as entry-level cuirassiers struggle to adjust to their frames and yet emerge physiologically unharmed by their piloting, whilst experienced pilots often come to view their pilots as extensions of themselves, dancing across the battlefield whilst often being barely able to stand for hours upon leaving their suits. This is to say nothing of the shock the ichor can deal the nervous system upon damage to the mech, with some pilots suffering immediate strokes or heart attacks when their frames are felled, whilst others display such an aptitude for the ichor that it seems to flow out from the mech’s ‘wound’ in great tendrils, knitting together twisted metal and restoring sundered limbs.

Art source

Common types

Mechs and their pilots bear a variety of names throughout the planes, such as the Ironclads of Kelsats to the Velites of Rhadamanthia. However, for simplicity, this guide shall use the classifications employed by the majority of mercenaries of the Celmian League, as they are likely to be most familiar to those experienced with such suits. They are classed by size and the weight of their armour primarily, although certain classes of mech tend to favour specific weaponry.

Cuirassier

Cuirassier frames are the smallest of mech frames, being barely larger than the skeleton rigs frequently used in planar industry, and occasionally as heavier infantry. Similarly, most Cuirassiers see use supporting other infantry or larger mechs. They tend to be heavily armoured, and typically stand 2-3 metres tall. They frequently carry large rail-arquebuses, heavy machine guns or heavy staffguns at range. When equipped for melee, they frequently wield massive shields designed to allow infantry to take cover behind them, and carry huge polearms for dealing with larger mechs. Due to their heavy armour, Cuirassiers are often regarded as slow by other pilots, and whilst they are certainly not the fastest, they can still put on surprising bursts of speed, especially in the cases of certain models, such as the infamous Teleos Bucephalus-II, or the infamous mercenary frame Jundun-Eter, a shotgun-wielding frame that laid waste to an entire void-fleet before disappearing through, if rumours are to be believed, a miniaturised portal spell.

Reiter

Where Cuirassiers are by and large slower, more heavily armoured frames, Reiters are skeletal deathtraps clad in minimal armour and equipped with exceptionally powerful thrusters. Most commonly deployed against light(er) tanks or artillery positions, or in scouting and skirmishing roles, Reiters have barely any armour, and typically carry a single large weapon, such as a heavy rail-culverin or a massive tank-glaive. They tend to be quite cheap to manufacture, not counting their engine components, and as such have the highest mortality rate out of any mech class. Despite this, plenty of pilots flock to Reiters, as their incredible speed appeals to many thrill seekers. Reiters vary a fair bit in size, as some are little more than wireframe suits, whilst others sport stilt-like legs that raise their height up to 4 metres.

Cavalier

The most iconic class of mech and the one favoured most by independent mercenaries, Cavaliers keep a healthy balance of speed and armour, and display easily the broadest variety of frames on the market. Most tend to focus on a larger melee weapon such as a tank scimitar or claymore, and carry a ranged weapon in the offhand, such as a rail-falconet or grenade crossbow. Frequently, these weapons are built directly into the frame, allowing for gimmicks that, while impractical in standard-issue frames, are frequently favoured by mercenaries. Famous mercenary frames include the Landsknecht and Muramasa rigs, which sport robust sensor suits and a broad variety of weapon hardpoints that make them exceptionally common bases for mercenary frames. So great is the Landsknecht’s popularity that it has become a byword for mercenary in itself, and troops of them are common through the Crucible and beyond.

Demi-Lancer

A recently developed class of mech, Demi-lancers were designed as more affordable generalist alternatives to the larger and heavier lancers, and frequently see similar roles to their heavier counterparts. They are most commonly armed with heavy rail-culverins or mage-bombards, alongside melee weapons such as anti-tank zweihanders or decapitator scythes. By and large, demi-lancers serve as duellists, taking on similar sized tanks or other mechs, although many, such as the Beowulf frame, have seen extensive use hunting large monsters, such as dragons or giants. Demi-Lancers tend to be heavily armoured around the chest and upper arms, but far more lightly around the legs and forearms, something that cuts a surprising amount of weight from the frame and makes it surprisingly nimble even when compared to some cavaliers. However, it does leave them more vulnerable to disarmament, and even leads to stories of some lucky infantrymen managing to blast a demi-lancer's legs out from under it and hack it apart once it fell. Ironically, many demi-lancers have seen use specifically for defending artillery positions and landships from other mechs, easily cutting apart smaller Reiters and, in a few cases, outmanoeuvring and destroying huge Lancers.

Lancer

The apex of military mechs, Lancers are the largest and most heavily armed of all standard mech frames. They carry exceptionally heavy weaponry such as back-mounted rail-mortars, mage-bombards or sun disks. However, the weapon for which they are named is their most feared, the huge storm lance. This weapon was specifically developed for cracking the thick plating of the Lancer’s principle prey, large tanks and, most infamously, landships. Storm Lances are made up of a thick vulcanite and steel tip at the end of a long, exceptionally durable rod that is wrapped in several coils of mage-gold. This is used to channel a deadly electric charge down the lance that can be blasted from the tip as either a devastating mid-range projectile or, more commonly, directly into the hull of a landship. For this reason, all landships regard lancers as high-priority targets, as most are armoured enough to withstand several shots from even exceptionally large guns, and can accelerate at terrifying speeds thanks to massive back-mounted charge thrusters. If a Lancer can reach the landship without being taken out, it often can completely destroy the vehicle, as it can easily shrug off most of its point defense weapons whilst using its lancer to strike deep into the belly of the war-engines. As such, many landships now include small groups of cavaliers or demi-lancers charged with preventing any lancers from reaching the ship, a job that the more manoeuvrable craft excel at, as while lancers’ charge thrusters allow for incredible acceleration, they turn poorly and even simply causing a lancer to slow down and turn is often enough for several artillery strikes to obliterate it, or for the lancer to call off its charge entirely.

Other classes of mech do exist, with exceptionally large lancers being rare but not unheard of stories. Such mechs will get their own posts eventually, as many operate far more esoteric weaponry than a 'simple' storm lance.

[wordsandrobots]

Hey there! loved your IBO writeups and I wanted to hear your thoughts on a certain character relationship/dynamic that I have yet to see fully analyzed. What do you think is the significance or thematic meaning behind the Mika, Atra, and Kudelia trio.

Besides the occasional harem joke lol, the most I have yet to muse about their dynamic is that while both Mika and Kudelia are fixated on their self sacrificing roles and ideals, meaning Mika being the Devil of Tekkadan and Kudelia being the Maiden of Revolution, Atra seems to be the glue that binds them together and tie them back down to reality. Which fits considering the ending.

But what are your thoughts tho?

(Also any plans on a Mika and McGillis writeup)

Hi! Glad you've enjoyed the rambling!

First, really, truly sorry it took so long to get around to answering this. A combination of illness and heavy workload has left my brain more scattered than usual.

Second, nothing planned at present regarding Mika and McGillis, although it's definitely something worth exploring. There's a lot of interesting things to be said about the way McGillis misreads their relationship while being so inspired by Mika, and how Mika cuts through a lot of McGillis' bullshit by being tied to the reality the older man is trying to escape.

Now, on to the main topic.

One way to look at it is that Mikazuki, Atra and Kudelia are a marriage of different conceptions of what gives life meaning. You've got Mikazuki dedicating himself to serving another's ambition, Atra finding purpose in everyday tasks, and Kudelia working towards improving the world as a whole. These can also be seen as three different forms of sacrifice, with each of them giving up things they could have had elsewhere (self-direction, safety, status) for the sake of doing what they think is right.

Another approach is to emphasise their similarities, as equally compassionate people. Kudelia is spurred into action by moral indignation at the treatment of her fellow Martians. Mikazuki is automatically protective of those around him, including strangers. And Atra's skill-set is rooted in the practicalities of looking after other people. This shared drive shapes their relationship from the start: not for nothing do group hugs form key moments in its progression.

If I were to take a stab at assigning them a particular thematic meaning as a group, though, it is this: combined, they represent how far out of reach superficially mundane desires can lie for those at the sharp end of society.

Consider Atra. I've seen criticisms of Iron-Blooded Orphans focused on the stereotypical nature of her contentment with the domestic and desire to settle down with the people she loves (including somebody saying the writers 'had never met a woman in their life', which is bleakly funny) and yes, these do reflect gendered expectations to an extent. However, to stop there misses that, in context, 'I want a peaceful existence as a housewife and supportive member of the community' is a wildly aspirational life-goal. Before meeting Mikazuki, Atra was a homeless runaway fleeing a miserable existence as the dogsbody at a brothel. She isn't under any illusion that what she wants is going to follow naturally from simply being a girl, much less so after falling in with a group of suicidally-reckless child soldiers. The desperation that leads her to suggest Kudelia have a child with Mikazuki in order to keep him with them is extremely well-founded.

Likewise, as I've discussed many times before, Mikazuki's stated aim (devotion to Orga aside) is to be a farmer. To grow vegetables. More of a challenge on Mars than on Earth, yet hardly the stuff of a 50-episode mecha anime in its own right. But, again, Mikazuki is not in a social position where this is automatically feasible. Not only does he lack the required education, farming itself is not the stable livelihood it should be. Fighting is a far more certain source of income and while he does not ever stop trying to learn about growing plants – as a recent commenter rightly pointed out – the choices he makes or is forced to make continually place his dream further out of reach.

And for her part, Kudelia wants nothing more than to ensure Atra and Mikazuki can live the lives they want. Their articulation of her intentions reveals its core straightforwardness: she really is working to ensure the happiness of the Martian people. That's the entire point. Settling on Mikazuki's hypothetical farm is an idea she clearly sees as a long way off, even while cherishing the invitation. But she never wavers from wanting that reality for Mikazuki and Atra, and by extension the rest of Tekkadan. High-handed and naïve though her initial attempts to treat them as equals are, she keeps trying and internalises the lessons they teach her, and that only increases her commitment to a world where no child has to get blood on their hands for the sake of survival.

Here, though, we come to the crunch. Because the things in the way of the simple, simply-stated future these three are after do not lie within their actual relationship, which develops naturally over the course of events until they are firmly a romantic trio. Rather, they are grappling with being caught inside an exploitative structure that proceeds from three hundred years of Earth-centric hegemony. Mikazuki and Atra's poverty has roots far outside their control and Kudelia's challenges to those roots are met with violent resistance from the status quo. For them to be happy would require either a dramatic elevation of their position (Orga's solution), or transforming the economic distribution of their society (Kudelia's solution).

All three are ready to make a fight of it, utilising their complementary talents and shared reserve of bravery. They support one another as best they can through the ensuing struggles. Mutual respect and care is a key part of what binds them together, with Kudelia's determination reflecting what she sees in Mikazuki, Atra's acts of protectiveness towards Kudelia belying her noncombatant role, and Mikazuki swearing to fight for Atra's happiness as reciprocation for her declaration of love.

But in the end this is simply not a story where the daring warrior, plucky princess and brave peasant-girl can win the day. The sacrifices necessary to reach for a better future preclude everyone living to see it. Atra's fears that Mikazuki will be lost to them prove accurate. Kudelia's desire to provide those she loves with a safe, stable life is subordinate to the material connections necessary to pursue that very goal. And Mikazuki's drive to act for others leads him to embrace Gundam Barbatos, the silent fourth member of this relationship, carrying him inexorably to his doom.

I talked in my essay on queerness in IBO about how the epilogue is centred on Akatsuki. Mikazuki and Atra's son is the triumph achieved despite the tragedy, a testament to love that mattered in spite of the violence that consumed it. We find him living peacefully on Sakura Farm with Atra, Kudelia acting as his guardian, giving tangible meaning to his father's death and how things have changed since, no matter if Tekkadan are forgotten.

That framing, however, is bittersweet. The final shots, juxtaposing Akatsuki with photographs from before everything fell apart, reinforce the cost of reaching this point and there remain battles to be fought, as Kudelia smiles for the cameras, signing treaties with her enemies to further chip away at long-standing injustices. The better world is still a work-in-progress and far too many people didn't live to see even this much.

Behind the hope, the cruelty of the situation lies laid bare. Again, Mikazuki and Atra were not asking for much. Their happiness, which Atra achieves in part, would have been entirely unobjectionable. The suggestion Mikazuki enjoys killing makes him display – for him – considerable distress. His hands tremble at the idea, despite violence being central to his current existence. Indeed, it is that existence, stretching back to his time on the streets, that taught him to respond violently. Had things been different, he would have been content raising crops and children.

Even Kudelia's suggested changes are relatively mild. Greater economic parity with Earth is hardly an unreasonable request and finds supporters among the political class. At the same time, the outsized response exposes a great deal about how important the inequality is to those at the top, how it is actively chosen and enforced. Trite as it might seem on the surface, a goal of 'making everybody happy' can lead in radical directions, provoking questions like 'why isn't everybody happy?', 'who does their unhappiness benefit?', 'who would its abolition inconvenience?', and 'how does society justify the absence of happiness in the first place?'

Iron-Blooded Orphans spends its run pairing such matters with a sweet, supportive, polyamorous teenage romance. The sharpness of this contrast emphasises the humanity of those involved and the sheer unfairness of their circumstances – and of what is required of them to improve matters, when power is hoarded elsewhere.

-----

At least, that's where my mind went off the back of your question. There's a lot of that contrast in IBO, between the mundane reality of the people involved and their outsized reputation, infamy and actions. Plus, the treatment of sexuality, polyamory and queerness as just ordinary is something I deeply love about it, as a show.

Thank you for the ask! As a bonus note, this is my go-to Atra song.

('Words, you cannot possibly have a Thea Gilmore song for every occasion.' Just you watch me.)

[Index of other writing]

[gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes]

For the Broken Ones

30K, RatedE, Stucky, Shrinkyclinks, Tower fic, hurt/comfort

✅ Complete

Tink. Tink. Tink.

A glass of water? Ice in water?

No. Blood. Blood droplets rhythmically hitting a metal surface. This is what Steve hears so loudly in the dark.

Why is it so dark?

Oh. His eyes are closed.

He opens them, blinks away the fog, and sees an attractive redhead smiling at him.

Smiling? Why is Natasha Romanov smiling at him?

Steve frowns and turns his head toward the sound to find his Ma' knitting furiously away with aluminum needles.

Tink. Tink. Tink.

She only does that when she's nervous, worried.

And then a heavy sigh, much too deep to be either woman. Steve turns in the other direction, gaze this time landing on a white cat who is busy making biscuits in a partially finished afghan. Only that's not the source of the sound either.

Steve looks back to Natasha for answers. She's the brains behind the operation, after all. It's strange that she and Sarah and he are all seated around this bed where a white cat kneads into the soft comforter at the end.

He startles, but is stopped by a kind voice.

"Relax, Steve," Romanov coos. Her smile is genuine and soft. "Everything is fine."

The room is not in a hospital. It's too large and comfortable, almost like somebody's apartment. There are large sunny windows and potted plants on the sill, and the furniture is all soft fabrics and overlarge pillows, almost as if someone lives here.

Memories come flooding back, and Steve cringes as he realizes where he is.

"The jet?" he asks, already knowing the answer. "Did I puke everywhere?"

Natasha's laugh is gentle. "Surprisingly not. You did, however, bump your head. I gave you a sedative and a supercharged bump reducer on the plane and Barton held a bag of ice to the swelling while we tended to our runaway. He wouldn't leave the plane without you, so we made a makeshift stretcher and brought the two of you here. Sorry it took you so long to wake up. May have misjudged the dose."

She pauses and Steve understands. He reaches up to touch his forehead and finds a lump. But it doesn't hurt.

"Your mother was here waiting for you. Somehow, she convinced Tony to let her inside. Didn't even bat an eye when she saw Barnes' injuries."

"Oh god!" Steve remembers suddenly. "Bucky! The blood! I think he had a punctured lung, and probably a head injury and —"

He leans forward to get up, but Sarah stops him with a hand on the back of his neck. "Your Bucky's injuries were serious, but nothing I couldn't handle." She winks at him. "And you said 'the Gift' had skipped a generation."

His Ma' is leaning over him, shaking her head, proud. She's dropped her knitting on the bed and is blocking Steve's view of something. Someone. A very important someone.

It's not Steve who's in bed, it's Bucky!

Steve leans to the side and finally, finally sees him.

Bucky's head is bandaged so it looks like he's wearing a newsboy cap. His face is clean except for a few scratches. His one arm lies outside the white covers, crooked over his slowly expanding, deflating, expanding chest. The rest of him is covered in a blanket. Eyes closed, mouth slack, he seems to be sleeping.

Steve pushes past his mother and crouches at Bucky's head, noting bruises under both eyes and a split lip that appears to have already healed. He very carefully rests his palm over the unbandaged spanse of Bucky's forehead. It's hot, feverish. Steve closes his eyes and begs god to pull his friend through.

"It's normal," Natasha explains, rising to her feet and joining Steve on Bucky's opposite side. "The healing agent in his blood sorta goes insane when he's injured. Overkill on the antibodies."

Steve's read the documents: he knows and understands. But it doesn't make it any less scary.

"How long until he's..." Until he's what, exactly? Good as new? Better than before? Does it take anything away from his lifespan, or is Bucky Barnes going to live for—

"You're right about the lung," she says. "Got the shit beat out of him, probably because he wouldn't comply and the trigger words were useless."

That explains the bruises.

"The chip was implanted in his skull and —"

"Don't!"

Steve is strong and isn't bothered by blood, but he doesn't want to hear about any more torture this poor man has been subjected to.

He's still petting Bucky's forehead, and Romanov places her hand on top of his. Steve finds her face sympathetic.

"A day. Sometimes two. His body burns off any sedative we try to give him. That goes for pain meds as well. But he'll knit himself back together and be brooding as usual before long. He'll be fine."

Steve's swallow is audible. Sure. Fine. No added trauma or anything.

Natasha pulls back. Her lips go thin and she frowns, then looks sideways at Sarah where she's standing now, too.

"How did you find him?"

Bucky shifts slightly, head tilting and neck stretching, but he resettles and goes back to sleep. The blue skin of his eyelids is so very delicate looking. Steve has the sudden urge to kiss them.

"I felt him," Steve answers, although that's not exactly what happened. "I dunno. It's hard to explain."

By the way Sarah is nodding and smiling, she knows how to explain. But she keeps her mouth closed and squeezes Steve's upper arm.

"You need rest too," his Ma' says, then kisses the top of his head. "You can answer questions when you've had time to sleep."

Steve smiles at her and her hereditary protective nature, then feels the need to apologize to Romanov. "I'm sorry, Natasha."

"Nat," she corrects. "Everyone calls me Nat. Except for Stark, that is."

And then the two women leave the room. Bucky's room.

Steve turns back once the door clicks closed, and he finds clear blue eyes wide open and watching him.

"Buck!" he cries and almost throws himself at the man. Until he remembers the injuries and stymies his excitement at finding his friend awake.

Bucky smiles as if it hurts, but moves his arm to clutch at the covers. He pulls them away, revealing the bare bruised skin of his hairy chest and torso, the equally naked lower half of his strong body. Steve's heart clenches at the sight, and he cannot refuse the invitation.

"Come here and kiss me," Bucky says, voice but a whisper.

And Steve melts, because how can he not?

He shucks out of his clothes and glides onto cool sheets, curling close to Bucky's molten heat. He's careful, so careful, as Bucky returns the covers. As Steve gets up on his elbow to kiss the scarred skin at the end of what's left of his other arm.

Bucky sucks in a sharp breath, then coughs, and Steve instantly regrets.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to —"

"Shush, you," Bucky growls, then finds Steve's chin with that large hand. "You're not kissing me. We need to fix that."

Bucky's grip is surprisingly strong, and shouldn't Steve have expected as much? Hard lips? Greedy tongue? A moan that thrills him to his core and encourages every last nerve to stand at attention?

The kiss deepens as Steve rolls halfway over Bucky, as he slides one cautious leg over a tense and bulging thigh. Head dizzy and mouth preoccupied by Bucky's incessant kissing, he hears himself groaning when his knee makes gentle contact with a hard and eager erection.

Steve pulls back, gasping. "You were faking?"

He doesn't raise his head off the pillow, but the rest of Bucky's body responds to just how very nakedly close they are. "I couldn't wait for them to leave!"

Bucky's hand brushes down Steve's back until he's got five fingers sunk into Steve's fleshy backside, then pulls their bodies flush. "Nothing turns me on more than being rescued by the man I love."

And, oh. Those words! They're a punch to the gut. Steve grinds his own filling cock into Bucky's hip.

"That's messed up."

"I don't care," Bucky laughs. "Here I was thinking we were too different." Blue eyes keep Steve's attention with unmistakable need. "Nat said you helped bomb the place."

Steve shudders as Bucky's thumb caresses his hole. "Actually —"

That thumb begins circling, pressing more firmly. "That you stole a truck and drove my broken, bleeding ass out of there."

Bucky lifts his pelvis and tips Steve higher. He mouths Steve's neck, the soft spot behind his ear.

Steve moans and hopes his Ma' isn't hearing this. "The truck was already running —"

The blunt tip of Bucky's thumbnail breaches. Shooting stars of sensation pulse through Steve's abdomen. "You carried me through the forest to the jet," he whispers into the scruff on Steve's neck.

Bucky bites Steve's shoulder, and damn, Steve didn't know he was into that.

"With help!" It's a high squeak, because Bucky removes his thumb and fucking rubs it over Steve's bottom lip. Back and forth, wicked smile on his handsome if roughed up face.

Bucky's eyes are dark with desire now. "You didn't leave Alpine behind." And he pushes his thumb into Steve's mouth, over his tongue, against his back teeth. Makes him gag.

"Mm," they both hum together, and Steve loses whatever false sense of control he had.

Steve shoves the covers to the end of the bed and doesn't care that Alpine glowers at him. He straddles Bucky's massive thighs and doesn't care that the door isn't locked. He maneuvers his hips until Bucky's cock catches his rim, and doesn't care that Bucky is quite possibly still in pain. He cares, of course, but something matters more than all these things.

"I love you, too," he whispers, chest pressed against Bucky's, lips on lips and a mad vibration in his throat. "Have since you walked into the shelter all big and scared."

Bucky cocks an eyebrow and palms the small of Steve's back as if to still him.

"Scared of who?"

Steve brushes the suggestion of Bucky's swollen inflamed cockhead.

"Scared of losing someone you care about. Just like I was when you left."

He hopes Bucky catches his meaning.

He does.

"Damn." Bucky's face falls. "I'm sorry. I didn't think —"

Steve is not letting this kill the mood, now that he's caught up in Bucky's body. They can talk about stupid decisions after.

"Shush," he says, taking Bucky's lower lip between his teeth and pulling it gently. He lets go and grinds back, wriggling his hips to catch that incredible dick between his cheeks. "Right now I want you to fuck me until I forget being afraid."

Bucky whimpers, and Steve feels the power switch. And, yeah, maybe they'll do it differently once Bucky is fully healed. But for now, Steve wants this.

Rational thought ceases to be a real thing as Bucky devours Steve's mouth. His arm wraps around Steve's back and he twists them both to the side. When Steve protests, a little bit selfishly, Bucky reaches above Steve's head to rummage in a drawer.

A cap flips open and Steve sits back to see Bucky shoving two fingers into a full jar of Vaseline.

Oh!

There's a grin on Bucky's mouth as his fingers come out coated in semi-transparent jelly. "Do me, will ya? My hand is a little full right now."

Steve laughs as he takes the jar, and then nearly falls out of bed as Bucky pushes those fingers inside.

"Hey!"

Bucky shrugs, mouth open, pulling out and very thoroughly lubricating the whole area. "What! Can't have any chafing, now can we?"

Steve laughs again. He dips his own fingers in the jar and leans back, seeking and finding Bucky's cock. If the rest of him is hot because of the antibodies, his erection is on fire. Steve briefly wonders if friction is the best thing right now.

His fears are calmed when Bucky tips his head back into the pillow. "Fuck!"

"Yeah."

The next thing Steve knows is Bucky's greasy hand on the small of his back, pulling him into another deep kiss. His thoughts go blank, and all he can think or feel or taste is the incredible power Bucky has over him.

Bucky is smiling as he pulls away, and it's so contagious that Steve can't help but copy him. "Ready?" he asks, like a goddamned gentleman.

Steve answers by pulling his knees in closer and shifting his weight on them, reaching behind and finding Bucky's erection to hold him steady. They share a look that sums up everything Steve feels: want, need, comfort, relief.

Anticipation is a bitch, however, and Steve's whole body shakes as he positions himself. He should really go slow, take time to relax his muscles and concentrate on the way his hole opens for Bucky's welcome invasion. Adrenaline pumps his heart full of impatience, and the initial stretch is glorious. Before he can prepare, before either of them have a hold on the moment, Steve is taking in that incredible cock.

It's Bucky who stops them, who comes to his senses. He wraps his arm around Steve's waist and snugs him close. His chest is heaving, lips quivering, eyes wide with emotion. His cock twitches, and Steve gasps. "Steve," he says, low and trembling. "Shit, you're incredible."

Spurred on by Bucky's obvious amazement, and sharing that thought, Steve holds eye contact and sinks. And sinks. And sinks.

"God," he breathes when he can take no more. "God." Bucky's eyes! His eyes!

"You're gonna kill me," is Bucky's response.

Steve shakes his head, his own body flexing and reflexing at the burning, stinging, pulsing sensation. "No." His voice shakes, too. "No. Never. I need you. I need you."

He sees the moment Bucky loses control a split-second before it happens. Something flares in those blue eyes, and he hugs Steve close. Then he's using those incredible abs to hoist them both to a seated position, effectively locking them together.

There's no hesitation, no holding back at this point. Steve's held captive on Bucky's dick, and he rides like their lives depend on it.

A slippery hand makes its way up Steve's back, smearing Vaseline across his spine. In his unfocused state, Steve laughs. He swipes at Bucky's chest between them, wiping his hand in the man's delicious curls there.

Bucky growls, delighted. He smiles a predator's grin, then kicks his pelvis forward and makes Steve shout.

He laughs. Bucky laughs. And Steve didn't know it could be like this.

Their mouths connect again, and they're both moving now. Steve rises and Bucky sucks him back in, and their breath is hot and fast and —

"Fuck," Bucky pants as he jerks his mouth away. "Fuck," he repeats against the side of Steve's face.

Steve is so far gone for this man that he puts his own pleasure in the back of his mind. He tangles one hand into Bucky's hair, and the other low where his bulging backside touches the bed. He whispers Bucky's name and a string of encouraging words, and tightens his movements until Bucky's cock is very, very deep.

Bucky is quiet when he comes, even though his body shakes apart. He clings to Steve with that one arm and grunts out his release.

Steve feels the pressure of Bucky's ejaculation, the pulse and force of his load inside. His own gut clenches and a thrill shoots up his spine. And it's good. It's so damn good.

Like this, spent and satisfied, Bucky is pliant, and he goes down easily when Steve pushes him back. Well-seated and well-fucked, Steve jacks himself, watching that muscled chest heave and heave and heave. But he doesn't come until Bucky lifts his hips and raises Steve with a groan.

"God, you're beautiful," is all it takes, and Steve is a goner.

It's like forcing a tidal wave through a tiny, tiny opening, the orgasm Steve has. Blood rushes in his ears until Bucky's panting is a muted thing, spots float in his vision. He braces one hand in the spunk on Bucky's chest and breathes and breathes and breathes. Then Bucky pulls him down, and they part.

Steve doesn't mean to, but he collapses against Bucky's side, and that gets Bucky coughing, and reality falls in a heap on his lap.

"Are you OK?" he worries. Punctured lung, and all.

There's a laugh in Bucky's cough as he seizes with each one. "Shit!" Cough, cough. "I think I sprained my cock!"

He's smiling, teasing, and it's wonderful.

Steve rests his head on Bucky's shoulder and they laugh together. Laugh until Steve's face hurts like the stretch of his asshole.

Bucky wipes them off with the top sheet and then rips it off the bed. They shift out of the wetness and back under the comforter. Alpine has long since gone. Apparently, she wasn't thrilled with the show.

"How did you find me?" Bucky asks once they're safe under the blanket. His body temperature seems to have lowered dramatically. Steve still wraps around his warmth.

Steve sighs and tries to put it into words. "My Ma's family has this — intuition. It's something rooted in Irish tradition. Used to think it was a load of crap." He shrugs. Bucky's lips brush his temple. "I dunno. Some magnetic pull, I guess?"

Bucky snorts. "Sorta like that tracker someone planted in me without my permission."

Steve's stomach plummets, sickened. "Not —"

"Except you don't need permission," Bucky finishes. He squeezes Steve closer. "Thank you."

It doesn't feel deserved. It reminds Steve of something.

"Why did you turn yourself in?"

Steve wants to add, 'idiot,' but he doesn't.

It's Bucky's turn to sigh. "It's complicated. Imposter syndrome. Stockholm syndrome. Post-traumatic stress - syndrome."

Steve reaches out and pinches Bucky's nipple. He gets an 'ouch,' but his point his made.

"Not the textbook explanation, you jerk. I mean, why did you leave me?"

Bucky nuzzles into the crook of Steve's neck, almost as if he's hiding. "I didn't think myself worthy of you. You're —" he pulls back and eyes Steve from a distance. "You do know that Nat is going to offer you a job."

Steve figured as much, but Bucky is deflecting.

"I swear to god, Bucky Barnes," Steve growls as he grits his teeth. He grabs a handful of Bucky's overly muscled pectorals to stress his concern. "If you leave me again, you'll be wishing Romanov had finished you off first."

He gets a grin and a grimace, both completely adorable. "What, you gonna take me out, Rogers?"

Steve rolls his eyes and loves the shit out of this dumbass. He narrows his eyes and lasers in on the impossible man. "Yes. To the movies. To dinner. To a baseball game. To bed."

"Ah," Bucky chuckles, and it's such a soothing sound. Him, healthy and happy and skin on skin, where he belongs. "So you're going to kill me with kindness. Is that your plan?"

"Maybe." Jeezus, the skin under Bucky's arm is soft.

"Well, it won't work," he says, a smile in his voice. "Sex releases endorphins that increase the healing rate. So as long as we're fucking, you'll never get rid of me."

This is intended as funny, but Steve is suddenly filled with sadness. A happy, well-fucked Bucky, although Steve's ultimate goal, reminds him of their age difference.

He pushes it aside. They've got years, after all. As long as Steve and Bucky are together, they'll keep each other safe and healthy.

Right?

Something nudges against Steve's thigh, and he's instantly pulled from the future to the present. Bucky, beast of a man that he is, is fucking hardagain.

Balance is restored, and Steve's chest swells with pleasure, and Bucky is looking at him as if he's stark-raving mad.

(And isn't that a fitting phrase?)

"That so?" Steve plants a closed-mouth kiss into that adorable dimple and then rolls atop the finest man ever made. He regrets for a second never having met Bucky's mother so as to thank her.

It passes.

"Yeah." Damn. Bucky's eyes are just so captivating.

"Well, I guess we'll have to do something about that," Steve replies, grinning.

And so, they do.

Epilogue - a year later

Bucky

A tune starts up in the other room. A theme song for a TV program he can't quite put his finger on. Alpine hasn't opened an eye, so he's not too concerned about it. Besides, he's preoccupied.

He's been watching Steve sleep for a good forty-five minutes now. It's something he does whenever they're home from a mission and he can't sleep. It's soothing, knowing they're safe and sound and nobody can get between them.

Bucky doesn't think about that, though. He's watching Steve's soft, slack face. He looks so young, those fine lines on his forehead relaxed, mouth partially open and full lips a bit cracked at the corners. It's something Steve deserves: rest. Comfort. Sleep.

Bucky adores him.

Steve passed out minutes after they'd finished showering. He mumbled something about Sarah having them to dinner on the upcoming Sunday as they toweled dry. Bucky had spent a little extra time massaging his boyfriend's back, listening to a drowsy conversation that stopped mid-sentence before Steve fell asleep.

It's incredible that Bucky gets to be with him like this, a fortunate twist of serendipity for both. Steve shares Bucky's taste in movies (and movie stars). He loves Jazz and baseball and blueberry pancakes. He's been wholly accepted into their little family, Alpine included. And there hasn't been one time at Sarah's place where Bucky hasn't felt like he didn't absolutely belong.

Steve's throat clicks, remnants of the asthma of his childhood, and Bucky tilts his head to better see the shiner on his cheek. It was Steve's idea to spar with Natasha, letting it be known that he, too, was a fighter in his twenties. Bucky understands it was meant to impress him. On the other hand, Nat meant to prove a point. Just like she always does.

The best part was when Steve picked himself up off the mat, touched a glove to the hot spot on his cheekbone, shrugged, and landed Romanov with a left hook not even Bucky could see coming. After that, Nat was more sportsmanlike. She knew when she had met her match.

So does Bucky.

It's hard not to touch him when he's like this, sleep-warm and snuggly. Steve's skin is addicting, to touch, to taste. His smile is divine, and his brain is unstoppable. Bravery. Stubbornness. Sunshine. Bucky needs all of it.

But Steve has been a light sleeper ever since the night Bucky left. He wakes at the smallest of movements, eyes wide and jaw clenched. Bucky deserves every bit of mistrust Steve gives him. He'll just have to work until the end of time to gain it back.

Instead of touching, Bucky runs the suggestion of a hand over the sharp curve of Steve's shoulder. He follows the lean muscle and the crook of his elbow, traces in the air over each tendon in his hand on the pillow. He remembers the goosebumps that rise on that taut stomach as Bucky follows the trail of hair to where his cock perks in interest nearly every time they fall into bed together. Nearly a year since they met, it still drives a sledgehammer into his heart, being close to him like this.

It's too impossible to resist the man's many, many charms. Bucky gives in with a whimper and drops a kiss to that ridiculous lower lip.

"Mm?" Steve hums, sharp eyebrows raising as green-blue eyes struggle against heavy sleep. He turns his face to Bucky, speech slurred, and says, "What is it?"

Bucky nudges Steve's top lip and dips his tongue into his lover's mouth. It's wet and sloppy and slow, but Steve kisses him back. It's so very tempting to wake him fully for morning sex, since they were too exhausted last night to do anything but crash. He's warm and welcoming, and Bucky wants to wreck him.

"I'm getting up to feed Alpine," Bucky lies. Her back is to them at the end of the bed. She was not amused at the late hour they came in, and probably won't speak to either of them for days. Still, Bucky feels guilt heavy as rocks if he doesn't have some kind of excuse for Steve to stay in bed longer.

"Mm." Steve gives up trying to open his eyes. He swallows thickly, inhaling, exhaling. "You coming back after?"

"Wild horses couldn't drag me from it," Bucky whispers, catching Steve's mouth for another sleepy kiss. It wouldn't be a hardship to spend the whole day in bed. But Bucky doesn't think he can go back to sleep after this.

"I'll be back," Bucky promises with full intent to make good on it. He slides carefully from under Steve's thigh, kisses his hand on the pillow, and forces himself from their nest.

He doesn't make it far, though. Steve sighs and his whole body returns to its relaxed state, and Bucky is mesmerized again. He's changed his mind. Instead of lying in bed with Steve for the next twenty-four hours, he wants to stand here and just look at him.

The music in the living room switches to something more lively, and Bucky tears his eyes away. He's got a pretty good idea who is in his apartment. And there's always a reason for it. Always.

Clint sits in Bucky's overstuffed chair. In one hand, he's holding the remote, channel surfing aimlessly. In the other, resting on the large arm, a whole pot of dark, dark coffee.

Bucky's in his skivvies, t-shirt and briefs, but Clint is still dressed in last night's gear. He's slouched back as far as he can go with both legs spread wide on the footrest. He brings the almost-full glass pot to his mouth and drinks deeply.

"'Lo, Barnes," he gruffs. (Barton is not a morning person.)

Bucky approaches cautiously because something is definitely up.

"Toast?" he tries. He gets a sluggish nod for it.

As Bucky slinks off to the kitchen, Clint lands on British Bakeoff and sighs heavily. "Your choux pastry is garbage," he says to the screen, judgmental. "Might as well throw in the towel. Hollywood is not shaking your hand today."

Bucky slathers on a ton of butter and some of Sarah's homemade strawberry jam and delivers the toast to his friend. Barton sets the remote between him and the armrest, reaches out, and drops the plate on the floor.

It lands jam side down.

"Aw, toast," he grumbles as he bends to pick it up.

"I'll make more —" Bucky starts, but Clint waves him off.

"Nah. Your floor is cleaner than my counters."

And he shoves one whole slice in his mouth.

Bucky takes the opportunity to sink into the couch next to him.

Barton chews and chews and chews while Bucky fiddles with a throw pillow in his lap.

"What's with you?" he asks, throwing a bit of his own grumpiness back. He's grateful to his friend for discovering the vents, but his constant 'visits' are getting ridiculous now.

Bucky doesn't expect a response. Clint isn't even wearing his hearing aids. Or, at least, not the ones he usually does. He did catch on quickly that Bucky had entered the room, so it might be an act.

Or a cry for help.

Barton takes another swig straight from the pot and swings it in Bucky's direction.

"Want some?"

Disgusted by the thick slurry at the bottom, Bucky makes the sign for 'no' and tries again.

"What happened?"

His friend lets out a belch and ignores him.

"You and Rogers seem to be going strong."

Bucky detects a hint of jealousy. Could that be it? Does Clint want the spice of a new relationship?

Bucky doesn't raise his voice when he answers, but he wants to level the playing field. "It's not as perfect as you think. I'm a hundred something years of indestructible death and destruction, and he's a regular, breakable guy."

It's extremely worrying. Bucky avoids thinking about it as much as possible. All it would take is a misstep, a communication breakdown, a mistake, and Bucky could lose Steve forever.

Barton lowers one foot to slowly spin the rocker until he's facing Bucky, and his eyes are red with no sleep or crying or both.

"Nat wants to have a baby."

Fuck.

"Uh."

"Yeah."

Bucky refuses to state the obvious: Romanov was sterilized just as he was in Russia. It was thorough and irreversible. Whatever is happening between these two, he honestly feels horrible for both.

He doesn't say it's impossible. They could adopt, after all. "What brought that on?"

Clint blinks three times, and for a second, Bucky thinks he's going to have to repeat himself. But then he sets the coffee pot on the table, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring and —

Oh no.

"She said 'no'?"

Barton shakes his head. He looks miserable. "I haven't asked her yet."

Bucky doesn't know what to say to that.

Clint turns the ring over his pinky, staring at it, sad. "I always wanted a big family."

Well, shit. Now Bucky really doesn't know what to say.

His friend jumps from one subject to the next. "You and Banner still scheming?"

The sound Bucky makes is shocked and confused. His head is reeling from the sudden tangents in Clint's train of thought.

"He doesn't want to be a monster either," Bucky reminds, slightly dazed. "If the serum can be reversed, I'd sign up, zero hesitation."

He watches as Barton shoves the other piece of toast in his mouth, then thinks how similar they all are. Clint with his alcoholic father and the stint with an actual circus. Natasha, forced and expected to be perfect. Sam with guilt strong enough to make him volunteer for this bullshit. And Steve with something to prove.

"You know," Barton says as he washes his meal down, staring off in the distance. "You're the only one who's enhanced. Even Stark is just a guy."

The fact that Bucky hasn't thought of this before shocks him.

"So, yeah." Clint is nursing the coffee pot between both hands now. "Could be any of us to go first."

He doesn't have to elaborate for Bucky to understand. Barton is feeling the same things, the anxiety and angst, the push toward action before something disastrous happens. The desire to have a normal life, or as close to normal as possible.

"Nat wants to use a surrogate."

Bucky feels his shock like a punch to the gut. "She does?"

Clint smiles wistfully and nods. "Having a kid is one thing she can't do. But she's determined to find a way." He turns to Bucky, and he's flat out grinning. "You guys should, too."

"What?"

It's now that there's a click of a door and a flash of white comes streaking from Bucky's bedroom. Alpine launches into Clint's lap, crouches with her back arched, and hisses at Bucky.

Barton laughs. Bucky can't help but smile at a sleepy Steve standing in the doorway to their room.

"I thought you said you were going to feed her?" he grouches, hair standing up in the back, groggy and soft and adorable.

He's wearing Bucky's shirt and it falls down to his knobbly knees. God, but he's perfect.

It's then that Steve notices Clint, and his expression gentles. "Hawkeye."

"Four-F."

They engage in a quick conversation in sign language, except in code, so Bucky has no idea what they're saying.

"I'm going back to bed," Steve announces, and Bucky is able to see the secrets behind these words.

"Be there in five," Bucky says as the man pivots and pulls the door closed behind him.

Before he rises to follow, Bucky pins down Clint. "What did you mean by 'We should too?'"

Barton is still grinning like the cat that got the cream. "Propose. Find a surrogate. Our offspring could be friends. We could take family portraits together. Celebrate birthdays, holidays together."

Bucky would huff in indignation, but it's not a bad suggestion at all. He pretends not to be convinced. "You think Nat would agree to that?"

"She's the one who suggested it."

And, yeah, that's going to take some consideration. Bucky is going to have to have a discussion with her. And a discussion with Steve.

For now, though, he's at a loss. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

Clint shoots him finger guns. "I know a jeweler who isn't opposed to selling to shady, one-armed murder kittens."

Speaking of.

"What's up with Alpine?"

Barton strokes the top of her head with one finger, and she curls into a ball in his lap, back to Bucky.

"She's jealous," his friend explains. "Steve's been taking up all your time. She's had to go elsewhere for attention."

This makes Bucky feel like a heel. "Aw, Baby," he coos, but she doesn't respond. Clint strokes the length of her back, looking smug.

Bucky is honestly overwhelmed with the stream of new information. He pushes off the couch.

"What did Steve say to you?" he tries, curiosity getting the proverbial cat.

Clint's smile widens until it's sinister. "Oh, he knows about my new hearing aids. He told me to quit faking not being able to hear while I'm wearing them. And he told me to turn them off when you go back to bed."

And this is Bucky regretting asking.

"Go back to your apartment," he says, knowing he'd have a better chance of Alpine forgiving him than that happening.

As Bucky walks across the room, Clint speaks over his shoulder. "Course, we could keep going like this. Take it day by day. Accept death with grace when it happens and enjoy the time we spent here with the people we love."

Bucky stops to frown at him. "You could do that?"

The cat in Clint's lap sighs heavily, as if she's had enough of the ragtag group of broken hopes and dreams but has resigned herself to being a part of it.

His friend shrugs and searches out the remote, clicking away from Paul Hollywood, not giving out those handshakes. "You gotta do who you wanna do."

Bucky laughs, knowing he's right where he wants to be, and he's doing exactly who he wants to do.

"Go bother Nat," Bucky sighs, and he enters his bedroom with his sights on smooth thighs and green-blue eyes and a man who loves him because he's broken.

[meret118]

The Wizard of Oz series is centered around powerful girls and women, something unfortunately still unusual today. It was even more so when it was published in 1900. Matilda Joslyn Gage, was a huge influence on her son-in-law Frank Baum, and instrumental in the book being published.

The article below calls her a radical feminist, but they do NOT mean a terf.

They mean the same thing I thought the term meant when I first heard it - a fierce believer in feminism.

AFAIK there's no record of her ever mentioning trans people, but given her activism against organized religion as a source of prejudice, and for multiple oppressed groups of people, I definitely think she would have supported queer rights.

The Wizard of Oz film, and the novels that inspired it, were deeply influenced by the ideology of radical feminist Matilda Joslyn Gage. Gage may be best known as the mother-in-law of Oz novelist L. Frank Baum, but more importantly, she was an activist, who would be considered as radical in our day as she was in hers. “[Gage was] the woman who was ahead of the women who were ahead of their time,” Gloria Steinem said in Ms. Amongst her many accomplishments, Gage wrote the first three volumes of The History of Women’s Suffrage, alongside with her contemporaries, Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton. Unlike these women, who both opposed the 15th Amendment, Gage sheltered runaway slaves in her childhood and married homes. In her final years, Gage became a treasured ally to local native American tribes, who adopted her as one of their own.

Mrs. Gage railed against religious leaders and politicians for a living and was so controversial and so scary to some that she was deemed ‘an infidel,’ her activities called ‘satanic.” That Gage is not better known to modern Americans is the result of deliberate actions taken by Anthony to distance the movement from Gage’s radical ideas, namely that the church’s hierarchies were inherently oppressive to women. As historian Sara Egge wrote, “Anthony in particular recognized that claiming her as central to the woman suffrage narrative was too dangerous.” Gage’s radicalism evidently rubbed off on her son-in-law. According to Schwartz, Baum became the outspoken secretary of his local Equal Suffrage Club, writing in a newspaper editorial, “We must do away with sex prejudice and render equal distinction and reward to brains and ability, no matter whether found in man or woman.”

Baum took inspiration from Gage’s politics, and in turn, she encouraged him to write down the spellbinding stories he told her grandchildren. In one instance, as Schwartz noted, Gage sent her son-in-law a newspaper ad for a story contest, writing on the enclosure, “Now you are a good writer and I advise you to try. Of course, you have but a little time, but ideas may flow.” In time, Baum would write The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, but in 1893, seven years before his book, Gage published Women, Church and State, a 500-page treatise which detailed why the church’s hierarchies were inherently oppressive to women. In a lengthy chapter titled “Witchcraft,” Gage argued the church affixed the label “witch” to any “wise, or learned woman,” a practice she traced from the middle ages to puritan Massachusetts.

Source. The bolding is mine.

I think Gage would have loved Elphaba! :)

ETA: I now love the name Gage for someone regardless of gender. :)

[cafenostalgique]

My ultimate film watchlist (2010s)

1930s-1940s | 1950s | 1960s-1970s | 1980s | 1990s | 2000s

Welcome to the final part of my ultimate film watchlist! If you haven't familiarized yourself with the intro of the first part, please see it under the 1930s-1940s link above. Otherwise, we'll jump into the next list, of which I've seen many movies, and intend to watch even more. Enjoy, and as always, let me know if anything should be added to this list.

watched | loved | wouldn’t watch again | holiday

2010

Alice in Wonderland

A Nightmare on Elm Street

Black Swan

Clash of the Titans

Date Nights

Dear John

Despicable Me

Diary of a Wimpy Kid

Easy A

Eat Pray Love

Grown Ups

How to Train Your Dragon

Inception

Insidious

Little Fockers

Megamind

Salt

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World

Secretariat

Shrek Forever After

Shutter Island

Tangled

The Book of Eli

The Expendables

The Karate Kid

The Last Song

The Other Guys

The Runaways (I have a special love in my heart for Joan Jett)

The Social Network

The Twilight Saga: Eclipse

Toy Story 3

TRON: Legacy

True Grit

2011

A Dangerous Method

Bad Teacher

Bridesmaids

Cars 2

Contagion

Crazy, Stupid, Love.

Footloose

Friends with Benefits

Hugo

In Time

Kill the Irishman

Kiss Me

Megan is Missing

Melancholia

Midnight in Paris

No Strings Attached

Paul

Rango

Scream 4

Shame

Sleeping Beauty

Soul Surfer

Source Code

Super 8

Take Shelter

The Adjustment Bureau

The Artist

The Cabin in the Woods

The Descendants

The Help

The Muppets

The Skin I Live In

The Thing

The Tree of Life

The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn - Part 1

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

We Bought a Zoo

We Need to Talk About Kevin

Winnie the Pooh

2012

Chernobyl Diaries

Excision

Frankenweenie

Hotel Transylvania

Iron Sky

Lincoln

Magic Mike

ParaNorman

Pitch Perfect

Prometheus

Rock of Ages

Ruby Sparks

Sinister

Ted

The Campaign

The Looper

The Lorax

The Master

The Perks of Being a Wallflower

The Raven

The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn - Part 2

The Woman in Black

Wreck-It Ralph

2013

12 Years a Slave

About Time

Carrie

Don Jon

Frozen

Her

Inside Llewyn Davis

Insidious: Chapter 2

Lovelace

Monsters University

Nymphomaniac: Vol. I

Nymphomaniac: Vol. II

Parkland

Safe Haven

The Bling Ring

The Book Thief

The Conjuring

The Great Gatsby

The Invisible Woman

The Last Days on Mars

The Purge

The Railway Man

Warm Bodies

We're the Millers

What Maisie Knew

2014

A Brilliant Young Mind

American Sniper

Big Eyes

Big Hero 6

Boyhood

Gone Girl

Interstellar

I Origins

Labor Day

Maleficient

Oculus

Serena

The Captive

The Fault in Our Stars

The Giver

The Lego Movie

The Signal

The Theory of Everything

Unbroken

2015

50 Shades of Grey

Amateur Teens

Blush

Chappie

Green Room

Into the Forest

Kept Woman

Krampus

Maggie

Pitch Perfect 2

Poltergeist

Room

Spy

Summertime

Ted 2

The Diary of a Teenage Girl

The Lure

The Martian

2016

10 Cloverfield Lane

A Wish for Christmas

Before I Wake

Blair Witch

Brain on Fire

Devil's Bride

Finding Dory

Friend Request

Grease Live!

Hounds of Love

Loving

Moana

Ouija: Origin of Evil

Passengers

The Birth of a Nation

The Boy

The Conjuring 2

The Receptionist

Train to Busan

Zootopia

2017

1945

50 Shades Darker

A Quiet Passion

Bombshell: The Hedy Lamarr Story

Dolores

Get Out

Frantz

It

Kedi

Lady Bird

Lady Macbeth

Land of Mine

Lucky

Mudbound

Prevenge

Raw

Step

The Florida Project

Their Finest

Thelma

The Lost City of Z

The Shape of Water

2018

50 Shades Freed

Annihilation

A Quiet Place

A Star Is Born

Bohemian Rhapsody

Book Club

Crazy Rich Asians

Halloween

Hereditary

Insidious: the Last Key

Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again

The Grinch

The Kissing Booth

The Meg

The Nun

The Post

To All the Boys I've Loved Before

2019

Ad Astra

Amazing Grace

Apollo 11

Booksmart

Child's Play

Doctor Sleep

Hail Satan?

High Life

It Chapter Two

Judy

Little Women

Midsommar

Nightmare Cinema

Parasite

Ready or Not

Rocketman

The Highwaymen

The Sisters Brother

Toy Story 4

Us

[invisible-elephant7]

The Timeless Child (as the Doctor; or any other well known character) is a questionable addition to canon, which I myself found weird at first. But then I considered the idea... and found it promising rather than off-putting.

Pros of the Timeless Child:

- Unlimited lives. Future writers don't have to worry about how to continue after another circle of 12 regenerations.

- Many lives before. It opens the gate for lots of stories and can make anything canon (like the Shalka Doctor, the Brain of Morbius Doctors, and more). Besides, the Doctor hasn't always been a white man (again, great news for future writers).

- Being unique and special. Some say it's a bad thing but I see it differently: the Doctor is special, has been for a long time. It's in the way the show treats them. It's in the way other characters (including Time Lords!) react to them.

- Staying true to yourself, even if you barely know your own past, because only the present really matters. That's a great message from the Thirteenth Doctor.

I know it's shocking to see the beloved character's biography being rewritten... But hey, the Doctor can be many things at once: a mysterious immortal being, Time Lords' genetic source, the destroyer of Gallifrey, the savior of Gallifrey, the runaway President, and an idiot who can barely fly their own TARDIS.

[dragonform]

Dragons Rising Season 2 Pt1 overall thoughts!

WARNING: MAJOR SPOILERS DO NOT CLICK UNLESS YOU'VE WATCHED THE WHOLE THING

In no particular order:

Wow, this season was the heaviest one yet. I'd been a bit disappointed by how Season 1 seemed a bit light on the life lessons that I found so compelling in Ninjago. Well, DR2 delivered in spades, from the theme of secrets, to the issues of mental health. Never should've doubted Ninjago writers!

WHY LEAVE SO MANY UNRESOLVED THREADS THOUGH. Not even clues for fans to speculate on?!?

Like what happened in Cole's journey to follow Master Wu?

What really is that glowing orb sprite thingy? Because it showed up in the Monastary of Spinjitzu to close the portal gate, right? How was it doing that before they'd even traveled to Mysterium? Have I misunderstood something? (Granted, I had to do chores here and there so I really might've missed something... need a rewatch)

Where did Cinder even come from? How did Ras recruit him? What's his story?

What really is Arin's object spinjitzu power?

Of course I'm sure all of this will be resolved/revealed eventually, but it seems a lot to conclude in the next 10 episodes. Oh wait, they've said they have enough material for a few more seasons right? Well, sure looks like enough for at least a third season.

I think the ones who are gonna have a falling out are Arin and Sora. It's gonna be revealed, maybe at some critical point, that he didn't actually do object spinjitzu to get them the win, and it's gonna destroy his self confidence as well as his trust in Sora.

They're gonna get all of the Forbidden Five out eventually, possibly by shoving more ninja through the gate. Which is fine, because the ninja will just meet up and come back through the Power of Friendship!

SO CURIOUS to find out what the elemental powers of the Forbidden Five are.

I was a little disappointed by the lack of Euphrasia though. I thought for sure she'd have a more major role this season, but she still remained a side character for most of it. Oh well, patience!

BONZLE. I did NOT expect her story to go this way. Still trying to wrap my brain around a sentient spell, but hey. It's Ninjago.

Love her so much though she's so precious.

Speaking of precious, ZANE. That's it. That's the whole thought.

No, I AM going to expand on that. Look at how he had such a vast knowledge of the Administration's rules and regulations. Look at how he stalled them with it. Look at the pride he had in helping them raise their efficiency by NINE PERCENT. IT COULD'VE BEEN TEN YOU GUYS. IF HE HADN'T GOTTEN RESCUED.

MR FROHICKY. I need that Frohicky plushie like YESTERDAY.

Also PUPPY COLE PLUSH WHEN

COLE. He's still protecting and trying to comfort everyone. What an amazing fight he put on at the monastary, almost a one-man army against the Adminstration's mechs, with Gandalaria's support. I bet his failure to protect Zane would have devastated him if Zane had been deactivated permanently. Fortunately Gandalaria knows more about nindroids than she should...

GANDALARIA! Endlessly positive and chirpy and disorganised. Like a more established Fungus. Wish I could be her. Loved seeing her dynamic with Cole being her straight man (hush, yes I know.)

So happy to see Kai get his focus for a change. Love Lloyd but he gets the focus like... every season. Kai needs the love. He's really cool this season.

Nya gets the least focus :( I miss her

WHY are all the ninjas' powers only as powerful as the plot calls for it :/ Zane's frozen way more than just a runaway mech back in the day!

I still think Ras looks too cuddly to be taken seriously as an antagonist. I mean would you not hug a Ras plushie? Look at those eyes. Look at that nose.

Is Ras's master a Source Dragon or the Overlord? OR BOTH?

Love Rontu, but she is such an archetypal (?) Nurturing Mentor to Egalt's Grumpy Old Master

Egalt has dragon cancer :( he looks way cooler in the show than he looked in the promotional materials and the set

I haven't talked about Jay, have I? JAY. Oh how my heart skipped a beat when he showed up pointing that gun/taser at Bonzle. I literally said out loud "OH NO OH NO OH NO".

I think that was the single most terrifying part of the whole season for me. I don't even know why it was so visceral. I think I was worried that his entire peronality had changed, though I don't know why I thought that, since in Pt1 he was literally playing video games instead of working.

So I was actually relieved to hear that he felt he didn't really belong in the Administration. Pre-merge Jay probably couldn't even fill out a single form properly. He probably had Nya or Zane or Cole do all the paperwork for him.

He clearly wasn't suprised that he had control over lightning. Why did nobody know about it? He's the kinda guy who'd use his powers for entertainment if he didn't have a good reason to hide them.

He didn't recognise his own ninja outfit D:

Lastly, the Finders - I'm also a little troubled by how Cole seems to put them ahead of his ninja family, but then again. He knows the ninja are all very capable warriors who can take care of themselves. On the other hand, for who knows how long, he had felt responsible for protecting his little newfound family. It makes sense that he would continue priotising them even after finding his old family.

In conclusion, Cole is such a dad :D

And to wrap it up, NEED PT 2 NOW 6 MONTHS IS TOO LONG TO WAIT NETFLIX /shakes fist

Sorry that was so long and rambling! Fun though.

I had wanted to do a blow by blow reaction post of every episode, but I can't seem to get clear photos from my device without major reflection issues. Still trying though!

[franxx-law]

So, I am continuing my previous post. My brain decided to make a Transformer itieration where they fully intergrate with humans, despite Cybertron's infighting are definitely definitely on itself.

By definition, Transformers is not mecha since they can function without a pilot, their chasis literally filled with the parts that can make them into their vehichle form, but, there is appeal where there could a third form in where a pilot could be possible with requirements to be met in human dynamics.

(Rise of the Beast) barely introduced the idea, and I kinda want to extend a concept like it, create a whole new version in how they decided to implement this form into their culture. And this is slightly dumb, so spare my cooking.

So, Transformer : Spark Rider Au

Spark Riders are essentially chosen partner(platonic or romantic) of a Cybertronian that where a spark adapts and even link with an organic that they trust (but can be taken away if one of the two are compromised mentally or emotionally), they basically adapt and function as similarly, with new upgrades where the pilot can be power as the one to control the transformer.

With Organics, they get the added benefit of being able to function in their atmosphere briefly and even taste energon for a source of sustenance as a trade off in creating that link, since there could be chances where they are cut off from normal human food.

In Cybertron, these are often rare cases, hell even seen as a luxury before the full intrigration. Infact, most Cybertronians wouldn't want that at first during their expeditions, as it could be seen as a liability, a connection to an organic is not only illogical but seems frivolous.

Only higher ranks would eat this shit up then, having a cute tiny organic pet where they can spoil and dress up in their paint (since the rider would wear their frame) is just that. Extra flex that Primus lets them have a bond with an Organic.

At the time, Organics are few and far between.

That changes when a Rider bonded with one of the 13 Primes. Yeah, having an Organic now is something to be considered as a big deal. Earth is essentially a Spacebridge away, and well, decided to Alien Stage it. There is now an influx of Organics wanted and taken, with bonds rarely made and runaways being prevalent.

Which also added the appeal, it's the fact that being chosen felt great is why Organics are sought after Post-Prime Rider. Several tried, few succeeded and most are explored and experimented on with potential, especially what would happen if a bonded Organic suddenly die?

Which opened the SparkRider Program.

At the time most would often don't get a chance, practically a lottery ticket on all sides. Since it needs to be curated by the Primes, but there were a few exceptions where they are immediately in the list. One of them was the Gladatotorial Champion : Megatronus.

It was essentially to rile him down, especially when his optics strayed from the arena and up above the golden city and advocating for a new system. Fighting the system and bring question of their purpose, which now aligned to him and you, his sorted Spark Rider.

It was awkward at first, being stuck with someone bigger. Hell, practically depending on someone who can kill you.

But, it was better than with someone who saw you as a pet that is overbearing, distance was prevalent when he still sees you as someone weaker.

More often than not, only appear close together to the program's rule but also in appearance, which was rarely done well with tension on both sides.

That also meant, you only started depending on eachother with close calls, one of the first times, is a gladatorial match where you were involved thanks to a technical rule(sabotage: someone pushed you in.)

At that time, there was entertainment, but this was different now, just like the Cybertronians down below, you were similar like them, but you couldn't fight like them.

It was sudden, instincts flared. Because it didn't feel right for someone to die like that. Safe to say, the program worked...but failed in stopping a revolution already there in their very function.

With connection and trust, it shows that a Organic in-sync with their Cybertronian reveal a surge of already strong power, which revealed a new form of power.

[pauking5]

you know these days I have been ritually coming here everyday to check if the latest chapter of runaway has been released?? Imma wait, cook as much as you like. I am sure it’s already delicious af!

Oh btw what do you think about being Capricorn (sun sign), Pisces (moon sign) and Sagittarius in the rising? these are my main 3 signs..just curious on what you think on it ^_^

And lastly, through all highs and lows you alone are the who keeps going! (Kay it didn’t turn as cool as i hoped it to be, references are gojo’s ‘through heaven and earth I alone am the honored one’ and jimin’s ‘you nice! Keep going!’)

hi dear anon!

oh my, this made a smile appear on my face 🥺 i'm so sorry to keep you waiting so long. i myself kicked my arse for it. but in my defence, i just felt like taking my time with this one. there's no day or night in the past months that i haven't tinkered with it to get it right, and i can happily say it's finally on the final final edit. there's a few stuff i want to work on some more but not too much. also, no one told me i'm cooking before 😏 💅 so thank you sksjsndjjs *flips hair giggling kicking my feet to the moon*

i sure hope it is delicious. she's one big chunky 46k + baby (the most i've ever written god), so i truly hope she's not a bore. i know i asked about the 20k being a lot but yall didn't have an issue with it so have double the bickering and action 🤡 i had thoughts of cutting it open down the middle to make it a two part but i thought i should wrestle with the 1000 block limit some more until it gave me brain damage :). anyways, i am excited as hell for this one because i can prematurely say it's given me ideas for a sequel that kinda i already started working on 😉

now, runaway blabber aside. *flips whiteboard over*

on the astrology side of things, can i just say it's one interesting big three to see. now, this is just my own interpretation of it so take with a grain of salt, or sugar if it fits right. your sun is like your main source of direction, not typically a big area of concern unless the element of the sign manifests in other aspects. your moon is your inner most self, the one that reflects who you most are or your true personality i would say. your rising governs the way you act in regards to things and situations and usually couples with your sun or mars (the depth of your urges), or mercury (the principles and ideas you live by).

a first look at yours and i can tell it's really well balanced.

as a capricorn sun, you're probably a really straight forward person, but coupled with your sag rising i'll bet my cheerios that you're one hell of a planner and have a set way of doing things orderly. it's an earth and fire combo, so where the cap part of you is grounded, the sag part of you might be a little prone to impulsive tendencies.

on your pisces moon, i can already tell you i love you. as a libra, i'm drawn to water aspects a lot and pisces moon is a placement i admire. it gets you out of that monotonous rut of planning and the stress of decision making, acting like your stress reliever and the part of you that likes to unwind through art. you're probably an avid music listener, expressing yourself through making or creating some form of art that lets you be who you want to be in that moment. or you're just a big admirer of it. either way, it's your balancing sign that keeps you tethered to what's important to you first and foremost.

now, your big three is just a few aspects of what makes up the beautiful you an ore of discoveries waiting to be found. your full chart can tell you way more about yourself than just these three aspects. i would advise diving into it and if you happen to find it difficult to dissect, i am always happy to provide help. i have times where i start researching one random placement in mine that i thought less of until it unveils so much i didn't know that resonated with me, putting it in the words i could never find. that and it's really fun and eye opening to read more about yourself from someone else's perspective astrologically. so if you need help, feel free to pop into my dms anytime 🤗

lastly, i love the quote of motivation. truly inspiring if it comes from dear gojo (lord bless his heart). so in true fashion, i'll leave you with one that's helped me through a lot of hard times when i wanted nothing more but to stop.

when you think you can't give it any more, you can put in a little more.

hope you're having a good day or night, keeping healthy, rested and happy ❤️

[shernola]

since most people following me probably know jack shit about the source material at this point, i'm rereading The Case Of The Left-Handed Lady because that's the only one I can find atm (book 2). knocked it out in a single afternoon because these are short af. below the cut is liveblogging of the shernola parts as i read it. probably gonna be very long but i'm already having fun so wheeee. Shernola Propaganda.

one single page in and we've got this conversation between Sherlock and Mycroft after an extended argument where Sherlock is already in support of Enola not going to finishing school.

---

“Logic is not everything.” (this is Sherlock)

“Certainly this is the first time I have ever heard you say so!” No longer placid or comfortable, the stout man sits forward in his armchair, his boots (sheathed by impeccable spats) planted on the parquet floor. He demands, “Why are you so – so overridden by emotion, so affected? Why is locating our rebellious runaway sister different than any other little problem – ”

“Because she is our sister!”

“So much younger that you have met her exactly twice in your life.”

The tall, hawk-faced, restless one actually stands still. “Once would have been enough.” His quick, sharp voice has slowed and softened, but he does not look at his brother; rather, he appears to stare through the oak-panelled walls of the club-room to some distant place – or time.

---

"Once would have been enough" for you to throw down with Mycroft about her, huh? (also. they didnt grow up together and have only met twice. those incest-bad connections in the brain have NOT formed for these two). Sherlock Holmes saying that Logic Isn't Everything because he loves his baby sister. Hm.

----------

and then it cuts to Enola's perspective, where she's already established a business for The Finding Of Lost People And Things, posing as Ivy Meshle, the secretary of the ACTUAL "guy in charge" who always just so happens to be out at the moment. and her first client is none other than John Watson, on Sherlock's behalf

---

“Doubtless you know that I boarded for several years with Mr. Sherlock Holmes at the beginning of his astounding career, but as I am now married and in general practice as a medical doctor, I see far less of him than I did formerly. It has not escaped my notice, however, that since this past summer he has seemed uneasy in his mind, and over the past few months positively distraught, to the extent that he is not eating properly, nor sleeping, and I have become concerned for him not only as a friend but as a physician. He has lost weight, his colour is unhealthy, and he has grown quite melancholy and irritable.”

Busily noting down all this for “Dr. Ragostin,” I was able to keep my head lowered over my desk so that Dr. Watson would not see my face. A good thing, for I am sure dismay showed; tears formed in my eyes. My brother, paragon of the coldly logical mind, distraught? Unable to eat or sleep? I had no idea that he was capable of such depth of feeling. Least of all about me.

...

I shivered with fear.

Of my brother Sherlock, whom I adored.

He was my hero. He was my nemesis. I very nearly worshipped him. But if he tracked me down, I would lose my freedom forever.

Yet – he was distraught on my account?

I could no longer tell myself that I had hurt nothing except his pride.

...

My other brother, Mycroft, entered my thoughts only briefly; I did not care whether his pride were hurt. Although quite as intelligent as Sherlock, otherwise he rather resembled last night’s left-over cooked potato, cold and inert. He did not care for me enough to try to find me.

---

"Sherlock is suffering because he's worried about me? Sherlock is showing emotions because of me? This is the worst news I've ever heard in my life." "I very nearly worshipped him." "Mycroft doesn't give a flying fuck about me. Potato man." Your bias is showing

----------

someone has attempted to garotte Enola as one of her OTHER identities, The Sister Of The Streets, where she dresses as a nonverbal nun and goes out helping homeless people

---

But on this particular day, with the pain in my throat exacerbated by a lump that had arisen therein, I suddenly, achingly realised that I wanted – I wanted something. Or someone.

I wanted no longer to be alone.

Enola, alone, with no one to walk by my side.

With no one to confide in.

With no one to comfort me.

---

girlie you want your Sherlock.

----------

Sherlock has intercepted Enola's message to her mother and and tried to bait her into a trap. Enola figured that out, obviously, and instead takes this chance to break into his house (after watching him leave. obviously.)

---

Striding off towards the British Museum, he passed me without a glance. Other than letting his forelock hang, he had not done anything to his face, and with a pang in my heart I saw that his hawk-like features did, indeed, look pale and harrowed, as his friend Watson had said.

Silent, suffering a queer inward pain, I watched him walk by.

I took a long breath and let it out again.

Then I moved on.

...

Mrs. Hudson tsked over the books and papers strewn everywhere. “Mr. Holmes is tidy in his dress and in his personal habits if not in his housekeeping,” she excused him. “He’s a real gentleman. Whatever your difficulty may be, he’ll do his best to help you with it, miss, and never mind whether you can pay him or not.”

Her words brought fresh tears to my eyes, for despite his trickery, I wanted to believe all goodness of my brother.

...

With a sigh of relief, I smiled. I had been right all along. Mum was safe in the country somewhere, and Sherlock was trying to outsmart his disgraceful younger sister. When he went home, he would find out who was smart.

---

breaking and entering successful! has stolen back the cipher book from their mom that he had stolen first and been using to read their messages!

---

While I adored Mum’s handiwork, I found myself now turning my attention to my brother’s notations. He had pencilled them so lightly that I could easily have erased them, so that my cipher book would be once again the way Mum had given it to me. But rather to my surprise, I found that I wanted to keep Sherlock’s intrusions. I wanted to possess something of my brother, if only his small, precise lettering beneath my mother’s artistic flourishes.

Handwriting tells a great deal about a person in my opinion, both that which is plain to be seen and that which may be hidden. I had been thinking of my brother Sherlock as the great detective, incisive and commanding, but his handwriting was smaller than my mother’s. He did not think of himself as so very big. He might indeed be a bit shy in his way, as I was.

---

Wants to keep something of Sherlock (specifically, "wanted to possess something of my brother" which has a very different vibe than "i want a memento of my brother"). Handwriting analysis of the annotations he left in the book he stole from her first. "he's just like me fr".

----------

Enola, as The Sister Of The Streets, encounters Sherlock, as a random homeless man looking for his "granddaughter" "Ivy", who he believes to be homeless. Luckily, he does NOT clock The Sister as Enola since she wears a veil and doesn't speak.

---

The next morning Ivy Meshle, for the first time since her visit to Baker Street, reported to work without fear. No longer did that worthy secretary need to fret, for Sherlock Holmes did not seek her; he was on the hunt for a poor street vendor who had worn a waterproof.

So I felt better, yet worse, for I had heard a quiver of emotion – the genuine article, I sensed, not just an actor’s rendition – in my brother’s voice when he had described me as a skinny girl crying with wretchedness.

Surely he realised I did not actually live in poverty? He knew I had money.

But just as surely Mrs. Hudson had told him how miserably I had been weeping when she let me in.

Confound everything. Intent only on getting my cipher book back, I hadn’t realised how such news might affect him.

How, how could I safely reassure brother Sherlock of my well-being?

---

girl literally only gives a shit about Sherlock's emotions. fuck Mycroft, who's Mycroft, she doesn't know him. Sherlock, however,

---

But I so badly wanted her to advise me about Sherlock. Without benefit of her greater wisdom, how might I take action? Send my brother a letter of reassurance? But – he was so confoundedly clever – what if he somehow traced it back to me?

Place a similar message for him in the newspaper personal columns?

But to do so, even in cipher, would be to make our family difficulties public. I could not risk damaging Sherlock’s pride even worse than I had already. Moreover, surely brother Mycroft – who so far, cold kidney pie that he was, had not much troubled me or my thoughts – surely Mycroft would see such a message as well, and what sort of hornet’s nest might ensue . . . I could not imagine.

I had no idea what to do.

---

"hmmmm I COULD leave a coded message in the newspaper like I've BEEN doing to talk with Mom, but then MYCROFT might see it, and I don't want MYCROFT to know I'm okay. Sherlock needs to know I'm okay though because it's keeping me up at night." Enola, sweetheart.

----------

Enola has LOCATED the missing person, who was promptly garotted by a person Enola promptly stabbed. she then took Lady Cecily to Dr. Watson's place because yknow. this girl was just garotted she needs a doctor. Sherlock happened to be there when Enola arrived (as The Sister Of The Streets), and Sherlock and Watson are both way more interested in the garotted Lady than The Sister.

---

And there was every reason for me to leave. Dr. Watson’s attention might turn towards me, or the attention of his friend might do the same; my brother might recognise me. Moreover, at any moment Lady Cecily might regain her senses and say my name, which like a fool I had told her.

Every nerve told me to flee.

Yet, instead, like an overlarge black moth drawn to a candle-flame, I ghosted into the room with the others.

With my brother.

...

The silence stretched, then broke. Watson broke it, his voice a bit strained. “I think it’s not her blood, Holmes.”

“I would quite like to know whose,” murmured the great detective. Then he spread his hands towards me in a pacific yet quelling gesture, and he started to protest, or cajole, “My dear Sister – ”

His dear sister.

Those words – how oddly they affected me.

“Do not condescend to me!” I hardly recognised my own quite distinctive, aristocratic voice bursting forth, as it never should have done, from under my veil. “I am in no need of assistance. On the other hand, Lady Cecily” – with a jerk of my weapon I indicated the still-unconscious girl lying on the sofa – “daughter of Sir Eustace Alistair, requires more care than I can give her.” Although she was unlikely ever to receive it – care for her alienisation of the psyche, her secret left-handed self. But if the police were on the way, there was no time to explain. I continued, “The villain who garroted her – ”

His voice glassy and cracked with – with incredulity, I suppose – my brother interrupted, “Enola?” His face had gone as keen and white as a fine carving in marble.

“Do not speak. Listen.” There was no time for melodrama; I had to finish what I was saying. “Please attend to what I am telling you. The garroter is [redacted bc it's a spoiler for if you're actually gonna read the book]. You are likely to find him at some surgeon or hospital, with the marks of my knife on him.”

I could only hope that Dr. Watson had taken in most of this, for my brother evidently had not. He responded in much the same way as before. “Enola?”

---

THE Sherlock Holmes. reduced to "Enola? my Enola? my Enola alive and not dead? my Enola obviously in a dangerous situation?"

----------

now, Sherlock knows that Enola is The Sister Of The Streets, and Enola has to abandon that identity. she also has to hide somewhere for the night because now the cops are after her because Sherlock called them and she's way too far from home. So she goes and hides in Sherlock's apartment. because she KNOWS he's spending the night roaming the streets after her instead of coming home.

---

At dawn, the great detective climbs the stairs to his rooms, his step uncharacteristically leaden due to the fatigue and frustration of hours spent searching for a black butterfly that had paused for a few moments almost within his grasp before disappearing into the night, gone like a spirit – but his sister is no spirit, confound everything; she is a mere skinny broomstick of a girl, unequipped with wings, and could not possibly have actually flown away from the stony face of London; wherever could she have got to? Why could he not find her?

Head and shoulders bowed under the weight of his failure, he enters his lodging and closes the door behind him.

Odd. The sitting-room is quite warm, as if someone has been keeping the fire going all night. But that cannot be.

Yet it is. Glancing towards the hearth, he sees flames leaping merrily, and finds himself suddenly fully alert, for who – what intruder has entered here?

But even as he turns up the gas to have a look about, he strongly suspects, indeed even in advance of proof he knows, and chagrin as keen as a stiletto blade stabs his heart; he clenches his fists to keep from cursing aloud. In the fireplace he sees a substantial amount of charred black fabric, formerly a “nun’s habit,” no doubt. He can expect to find some garments missing from his supply of disguises. His oh-so-clever sister has made her escape after spending the night hiding in his own rooms, the one place he had not thought to look for her.

“The nerve of the girl!” he whispers between teeth set edge to edge. “The impudence, the effrontery, the sheer, unmitigated daring of her!” But as he glares at the evidence that, once again, his sister has outsmarted him, his hands relax along with his mouth, his thin lips twitch into a smile, and he begins heartily and almost joyously to laugh.

---

oh he's so into it. sapiosexuals. the both of them.

----------

anyways thats the book! as I said earlier, these things are SUPER short, I knocked this one out in a single afternoon. if you EVER find yourself wanting a quick read, please. please do it. You Will Not Regret Reading Enola Holmes.

[dcwnthercbbithcle]

HELL'S BELLES HEADCANONS

The Hell's Belles, at least as a functioning group of vampires has existed from 1963 onwards, though it's been a brain child and a frequent fantasy of the Founder, Chrissy since at least 1958

The name Hell's Belles comes as a counter offensive from the era of peace and love as a solid 'fuck you' to the 'sugar, spice and everything nice' perception around girls!

The Hell's Belles initially represented a form of feminine support Chrissy CRAVED, given her relationship with her mother has never been the healthiest. It was this idea that there was a kind of sisterhood out there that someday, somehow she'll find. Well, Chrissy was right, she hadn't anticipated then that she'd be making this sisterhood herself from girls and women as broken and cast away as her. But does the future ever really work out the way you expect it.

The initial Hell's Belles were made up of a group of fellow runaways, though these founding members are no longer a part of the group. They're not dead! They just parted ways on friendly terms!

You see, the Belles didn't exactly have a home base for the first several years. They were just as transient and nomadic as their head and that lifestyle is rough, even for a vampire. Chrissy made and lost many, many friends during these years and it was the complex feelings from that which lead to her and the third iteration of the members focusing more of an effort on finding a distinctive and definitive base of operations

The Belles found their home out of a University Campus located a ways from the picturesque coast of Santa Carla in a sleepier, but, fortunately for them, no less lively student town. Now, I hear you, how the hell are a group of vampires living undetected in a university? Well, they're not exactly in the University, they're underneath it.

The University campus didn't always live it's life teaching students, in a previous time, it was a sanitarium, used to treat victims of disease with fresh air and beautiful sights and to reflect this purpose, it was outfitted with the full ensemble. Numerous buildings, a beautiful vantage point for views and, the veins of any hospital operation: tunnels. 800 yards of tunnels and small alcoves. When the buildings were converted into a University, rather than footing the cost of filling in all of the tunnels, the school opted to brick off all the entrances, hiding doors behind false walls and plastering the creases while leaving them to quietly rot in disuse. Except.... they didn't seal ALL the entrances, the body chute, a secret exit for funeral homes to pick up bodies out of view of the patients and staff. That's how the girls got in and they've infested them ever since.

The girls do come and go through the secret entrances and exits left over from the past lives, secretly unbricking the doorways and hiding that they've rendered the doors usable once more. ALTHOUGH, this being said, they prefer not to source all of their food from students on the university. That would alert to them too much, five or six students missing a term? It's understandable! People get cold feet for university and in a party town near the woods, people can get lost! But more than that and it's suspicious, they prefer to snatch prey from Santa Carla to take heat off them (unless you're Doe who feeds from dying patients in hospitals)

There's a total of 13 Hell's Belles members, not counting Gareth who INSISTS he's not a member and Mapplethorpe who comes around to spend time with Doe. All of the members are femme-adjacent and they are a little picky when it comes to keeping vampires in their ranks! Vampires can come and go, they're happy to be a spot in the storm, but not just everyone is a part of the pack!

The girls of Hell's Belles go by the cover story that they're a part of a single sorority and that they're out of town, college girls. Often with an innocent or a naive edge to them, just because the girls are kind of dicks and they aren't afraid to exploit the few privileges they get from their sex!

One of the many rituals that comes in line with being a part of the pack is constructing bead curtain room dividers. It's a craft to show discipline, patience and devotion and once you've completed your curtain and it withstands the tests, you get to hand it in a room or hall and make that section your room! Welcome aboard! And no, they don't give you the beads, you gotta source your own!

[blackthorn-legion-irl]

sendoff.mp4

[A mysterious video is uploaded on Blackthorn's account. No metadata exists to determine who, how, or why it was posted…]

A calm moonlight shines through the window. It shines on Den, Saffron, Fuchsia, and Cerulean, sleeping like a pile of kittens, barely distinguishable as separate beings.

A few minutes pass. Then a shadow dims the moonlight for a moment, and Den awakens. She gets up, careful not to wake the others, trying to give them just a little extra sleep. Eventually - gently, subconsciously - she starts to sing.

A second set of voices joins her for a duet - Saffron, Fuchsia, and Cerulean, the Pixies singing in harmony, simultaneously one voice yet three.

As they sing, it seems that the world has stopped around them. Not in the sense of a dark future, but in the sense of a moment of peace forever fixed in time.

A subtle glow surrounds each of the Pixies as the song continues, growing stronger, in the colour of their name. In the same time, Den seems to radiate a shadow - one of calm, as the empty night sky waiting to be filled with stars.

Before, as the song comes to its end, 'Arigato to...~' The glow blinds the camera with white for a moment, before it fades. The moon is shaded by clouds; the only light now comes from three floating wisps - one gold, one pink, one blue - and Den's red eyes shining in the darkness.

The wisps start to circle her. Faster, faster, spiralling inwards, until - a glow forms around her head. She closes her eyes, the glow fades into shadows.

The moonlight returns.

Revealing Den---revealing Blackthorn. Clearly tired, clearly damaged - clearly whole, as much as she can be. She stumbles blearily over to the bed, collapsing onto it. The only sound, her steady heartbeat.

And a trio of familiar voices singing her to sleep.

//ooc under the cut

//picrew source

and that's the end of this... pseudo-arc? i'm not sure what to call it still, but. the intro post will be updated at... some point. not sure when. but it needs a pretty big go-over anyway, so.

so what happens now? technically, blackthorn refers to the four of them, whereas den refers to den herself. in their whole state though, the two are pretty much interchangeable - as such blackthorn is simultaneously one person and four. self-reference-wise - she'll mostly use i/me, though depending on the context may switch to we/us. likewise, referring to saffron/fuchsia/cerulean will use he/she/they respectively. any pronouns are okay for any of them, though, as ever - she'll particularly be aware of plural they as an option depending on context.

while i'm noting this as it's what i use currently and thus what blackthorn will eventually stick to - she's got to work out how to communicate with the pixies first..... so do i, for that matter. it'll be easier for her though. as a bonus, the pixies also get a headspace (which i don't think i have) so i can keep making picrews of them. the irl equivalents just roll around my brain like when you have pokemon-amie on the bottom screen and get on the bike. i mean what :v

i appreciate everyone who's interacted in any way - in terms of me working out stuff irl i consider it a success also. thank you. i want to special thanks to spritemod and indigomod - while i know it wasn't intended, the timing of the runaway arc and such (even though i blocked a lot of it) really helped me with some particular cases in a safe environment, which otherwise i might not have gotten for a while. so that's a bonus.

probably when i update the intro post i'll also make a list of links to all the big major writing of this semi-arc. that might take a bit but i hope to have it done by the end of the weekend.

as for now? blackthorn's just doing her thing. helping people out, posting memes and stupid jokes... just with a little more understanding of what's going on behind the mask. (and a clearly totally valid excuse of 'no i don't have a soft side. that's just fuchsia')