#but anyway my brain is petering out here i cannot think of anything else

[cynicalmusings]

thinking about tattoo artist!dan heng who has a huge, intricate tattoo of a chinese dragon snaking up his back, shoulders, and down his right arm. he’s known for his art style which resembles traditional ink paintings, covering both landscapes and figures in his work, as well as his aloof but patient personality and undeniably good looks.

you’re mutually connected through march, who’s both you and dan heng’s close friend, though you and dan heng have never really met or interacted before. when you express interest in getting a tattoo, she wastes no time recommending him (and before you can even say yes for certain, she’s already texted him with your design ideas and told him to expect you soon.) not long after, he gets in touch with you and you both go through some of his designs before settling on a final choice.

a few days later, march drags you to the tattoo parlour and introduces you to dan heng in person. (she mentioned he was attractive, but not how attractive. a red streak of eyeliner brings out the cool tones of his eyes, you can’t help but notice as he glances over at you, not unkindly.)

you have a brief discussion after march finishes the introductions, before he leads you to a chair. as you make yourself comfortable and he cleans the area of skin you’ll get the tattoo on, he asks if you’re nervous; a little sheepishly, you admit you are. he hums, and tells you not to be.

‘focus on your breathing,’ he instructs calmly when you wince at the first bite of the needle on your skin. to your credit, you do try, but find yourself focusing rather more on his instead, because you can feel his breath on your skin as he leans over the chosen area and gets to work. (you hope to god your face doesn’t look as hot as it feels.) he works silently, and the silence is only broken by the buzz of the needle.

once it’s done, he patches you up, telling you you did well for a first-timer. it’s really pathetic, you curse yourself, that you’re getting flushed over that one sentence, but you can’t stop. march grins you a ‘congratulations!’ and asks how the experience (and her good friend) was; her face takes on a knowing look when you glance for a moment too long back at dan heng, and before you know it, she’s pulling you both out for ice cream despite your protests under the claim that ‘this is a big occasion and should be celebrated’. once there, she conveniently reports that she forgot about a piece of work she needed to get done, and leaves the two of you alone. (unbeknownst to you, she’s actually hiding in a nearby bush and watching you closely.)

it’s very awkward at first, but you slowly get into a discussion which starts about march (poor her) until it branches into shared interests. who knew the icy ‘cold dragon young’, as his web page dubs him, was such a nerd—and a nerd who shares some of your own nerdy passions, too?

after you go your separate ways, march texts you and asks how it went, and you begrudgingly tell her you enjoyed yourself, warn her to absolutely not do it again, and… i don’t know, my brain is fizzling out here. you probably find yourself stopping by the tattoo parlour in your free time.

[ghelgheli]

17! but also using the opportunity of the ask game to get to know more about the effortless worldbuilding in sff :)

from the end-of-year book ask

17: Did any books surprise you with how good they were?

I think Three Body Problem is the only one meeting this condition this year so I'll have no trouble staying on topic :> but I'm gonna specifically talk about "hard" SF as I conceive of it—I haven't read any analysis so this may just be a jumble of improvised thoughts.

SF, being "speculative" fiction, of course has to take on the problem of speculating and of presenting things that don't (and perhaps cannot) happen. On average this is accomplished thru a healthy combination of scientific grounding and good-natured handwaving: I drop a few sentences about "quantum entanglement" and you go along with my ansible, or you tell me about "positronic circuits" and I agree that you can make a brain with them. This is the compact that makes SF work because you fundamentally cannot expect speculation without, well, ceding ground on reality.

But at least a subset of SF readers are of the kind to really want to grok how it is that this or that scientific feature of the world works or may come about. Every contraption and novel technology is like a puzzle to be riddled out. This is the place where speculation becomes sincere mechanical prediction, and it's why I love hard SF.

This subset of readers can be matched to a subgenre of writers who commit fully to filling in as many blanks in their technological, biological, etc. speculation as possible. The rows of astronomical data can't be left vague—tell me what frequency of light we're dealing with here—xenobiology isn't taken for granted—what is the neurology of your aliens??—and so on. The dots are connected, the rest of the owl is drawn for real, the image is made crisp. Like fireworks for the reader's brain.

When this kind of worldbuilding is executed well imo it looks effortless. Looks, not is, because behind every explanation of near-c travel is hours of research into at least special relativity and time dilation, along with calculations by-hand. Behind every account of an exoplanet's atmosphere is probably a few papers perused on the subject and several articles on scientific american. Peter Watts, in the note at the end of Blindsight, includes a fucking bibliography of a hundred or so references as well as thank-yous to many an academic he split handles of liquor with. And this is only the visible fragment of what has to be a library of knowledge accumulated both passively and actively to make a speculated world feel as concretely plausible as possible.

None of this is necessary for good SF. The aforementioned compact means any author can opt out of this commitment at any time. But it's what it takes to make tightly-written hard SF, where your conceptual hands are kept diligently at your side, waving an idea through maybe once every five chapters when you have no other choice.

So anyway, Three Body Problem is a tour de force in doing this and doing it cleanly. It uses a storytelling device a lot of hard SF employs to make it work: rather than stuffing dense exposition into narration (at which point, just read the source papers) it deploys a cast of characters who more than anything else, really know their shit. We get exposition trickle-fed through experts who are trying, along with us, to make sense of their novel environments and unfamiliar technologies using their knowledge of the present limits of human understanding. This is what Watts does in Blindsight too, by the way: a claustrophobic ship crewed by technical specialists makes first contact, so everyone has something encyclopedic to say about everything and it's only natural.

What astounded me about Cixin Liu's writing is that he made it work just when I least thought he would be able to. I was sure I was being shown things completely inexplicable and necessarily supernatural until he went and explained them in plain terms; better yet, he explained them in ways that made so much sense in retrospect that I was kicking myself for not seeing the answer. This has exactly the flavour of a good puzzle.

The trade-off hard SF makes is that you are often limited in the metaphorical/thematic work you can do through your speculation. I think the contrast between "calendrical science" in Yoon Ha Lee's Machineries of Empire series and Asimov's "psychohistory" illustrates this well.

Yoon Ha Lee has mathematical training, and calendrical science is a speculative field consisting of theorems, conjectures, proofs, etc. in the language of mathematics that stand in for cultural hegemony and power projection. This makes for a great operationalization of soft power: space is filled and distorted by the quantifiable effects of whatever regime is dominant there (the "calendar" here being synecdoche for culture writ large). But obviously he can't fill in the blanks of how a calendar causes spacetime distortions that specifically make one side's weapons more effective, or provide certain formations with shielding effects. This is, I guess, semi-hard (lol) SF—you can see how it's supposed to work, but it's clear that it just won't. What you get in return is pretty politically interesting storytelling.

Psychohistory is the converse: a deterministic-enough lovechild of economics and sociology explained in the Foundation series as using all the familiar methods of linear algebra and differential equations together with unfamiliar innovations of just how to quantify human behaviour in order to make reliable predictions. There are entire chapters dedicated to explaining the conceptual nuance that went into developing psychohistory ("the hand on thigh principle" from prelude to foundation is just about how the theory resolves divergence by reducing insignificant terms to zero) and an entire book to exploring one of its limitations. It's fascinating to read. But you also get little narrative depth out of it, because hard SF, even when done well, is not guaranteed to make a story thematically interesting or politically compelling. This is the Three Body Problem problem too: its political commitments are threadbare and unserious because that's just not what it's about. I couldn't recommend it on those terms, but that's not what I like so much about it. I will say the conceptualization goes a little off the rails in the final chapters, but I think most SF authors were in some kind of string theory inspired fugue state at the time.

What I would love to see (and I'm sure exists) is hard SF that also has interesting politics. Unfortunately that's an intersection of two already-narrow intersections.

ty for ask✨🐐

[sequinsmile-x]

Start from Scratch

It had been years since they'd been back to the place they'd once called home, the place they once thought they'd raise their children, but it was time.

Aaron and Emily and their family go back to DC years after being forced to leave by Peter Lewis and his obsession.

My 250th Hotchniss Fic.

-x-

Hi friends,

It seems absolutely bonkers that this is my 250th fic, and on some level it probably is, but here we are!!

I've never written anything about the Scratch storyline, largely because I've only ever watched those episodes once, and it freaked me out so much I've never watched them again!! So, I thought I'd write this, an idea that's been floating around my brain for a long time, to mark the occasion.

I just wanted to say thank you for always encouraging me, for being my safe space when I have bad days. Writing for this fandom has, and will continue to, get me through some hard times in my life. Writing is my way of escape, and the fact it provides escape to other people is a bonus that I cannot even describe.

So, if you've ever read something I've written, if you'd left kudos, or likes, reblogs or comments, then this for you. Thank you.

Let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 9.3k (i got carried away)

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

May 2021

“Mom, I’m bored.” 

She smiles as she looks up from her desk, her eyebrow raised as her eyes meet her son’s, the 9-year-olds the same dark shade as hers. 

“Did you finish all your homework?” She asks, and he avoids her eye contact, looking down at the ground, “Oscar Hotchner…”

“I did most of it,” he says, an almost desperate tone to his voice that she has to clear her throat to stop from laughing at, “But Wren and Rosie are playing and Jack said we could play on his game.”

She folds her hands on her desk in front of her and smiles at him. Before she’d been a parent she always assumed she wouldn’t be a pushover when it came to her children, but all it would take is a slightly sad look in their eyes, or a slight tilt of their sweet heads, and she was putty in their hands. Aaron always made fun of her for it, his smile pressed into her hairline when they curled up in bed at night, a playful tone to his voice as he joked about how she had stared down serial killers in a past life but was unable to say no to their children. 

“You know what, sweet boy,” she says, standing up and round her desk, walking over to him and wrapping her arm around him, “Mommy is bored with marking papers, so why don’t we go find everyone else.” The way his face lights up with a smile, the one he shared with Aaron, warms her from the inside out. “Dad will be home soon anyway.” 

They walk towards the living room and she laughs at the sight of the twins sitting on the couch, absolutely surrounded by every single one of their stuffed animals, and she wonders how many times they must have walked up and down the stairs to bring them down from their rooms. 

“What is going on in here?” She asks, smiling when both Wren and Rose look at her. They were identical in looks, to the point where only those who were close to them could tell them apart, but their personalities couldn’t be more different. Wren was quiet, more reserved in nature especially around people she didn’t know, so much like Aaron it made Emily feel fiercely protective of her. Rose was exactly like she was. Bold and adventurous and stubborn to a degree that had Emily dreading her teenage years even though they were only a few months shy of the twins 6th birthday. 

“We’re playing hospital,” Rose says, her expression serious as she points at the lined up stuffed animals, “These are all our patients.” 

“Wow,” Emily replies, “Busy day at the hospital.” 

Jack walks in, the spare controllers for the Nintendo Switch in his hands, “Who wants to play MarioKart?” 

“Me!” Wren exclaims, abandoning what she had been doing and running over to her brother who was just about her favourite person in the world. The relationship between Jack and his siblings was something that never failed to make Emily feel emotional. She remembered how worried she’d been when she was pregnant with Oscar, so concerned how Jack would react that it had made her feel sick, but he’d never been anything other than excited at being a big brother. 

She knew they’d all miss him when he moved away to college in a couple of years. 

She’s just about to say that she’ll play too, her arm still around Oscar’s shoulders, when the front door opens, Aaron’s smile wide as he walks into the house. 

“Daddy’s home!” Rose shouts, running over to the front door, running at his legs at full speed and wrapping her arms around him.

“Hi Rosie Posie,” he replies, leaning down to hug her as he places his briefcase by the door. He smirks as he sees how Emily rolls her eyes at the nickname she’d hated since he’d first said it. 

“We were about to play MarioKart,” Emily says, smiling when he walks over to press a kiss to her cheek, “If you want to join us I can always beat you again.” 

“You only win because you cheat, Mom,” Jack says, and she turns to him, narrowing her eyes at her oldest.

“I do not cheat,” she replies before she turns back to her husband, “How about it, honey?” 

He nods, clearing his throat, “Yeah,” he looks at his children and smiles, “Why don’t you go set up the game, Mom and I will be right behind you.” 

They all nod and head towards the den, chatting over each other, their home never quiet but full of love and a type of peace that, even just a few years ago, Emily wouldn’t have thought was possible.  She smiles as she turns to face Aaron, shaking her head at their children as they all rush out of the room to play the video game, Jack leading the charge, but it fades when she sees the look on her husband's face, the sadness in his eyes. 

“Honey,” she says, stepping towards him, her hand on his arm in an immediate attempt to comfort him, “What’s wrong?” 

He sighs as he puts his hand over hers, linking their fingers together as he squeezes, “I heard from Dave,” he says, pressing his lips together in a tight line, “Krystall died this morning.” 

“Poor Dave,” She gasps, her heart clenching in her chest, aching for their friend who had done so much for them, who had saved them. Dave had been the one to protect them when everything started to fall apart, his friendship and his protectiveness over them and their children one of the reasons they were all still together now. She blows out a steady breath and locks eyes with her husband. “Do you think…” she drifts off, the mere thought of going back, of returning to the place where their family had been tormented by a now dead psychopath, enough to make her chest seize. 

“I’ve already booked the time off work,” he replies, as if he has read her mind. She nods and leans in to hug him, sighing as he hugs her back, “He’d do it for us.” 

“You’re right,” she says, closing her eyes as she hears the kids laugh from the next room, reminding herself that Peter Lewis hadn’t won, that she still had everything she’d left her life, the people she’d once considered her found family, behind to protect, “We should go.” 

He can feel the tension in her shoulders, the knots that almost immediately begin to form there, and he rubs his hand up and down her back. The choice not to return to their old life once it was safe to do so had been a hard one, but ultimately the right decision. Their life now was the one their children deserved, the one they deserved, and he knew that the thought of going back to where they had almost lost everything, even to support one of their oldest friends, was a difficult one. 

“It will be ok, sweetheart,” he assures her, stamping a kiss against her lips, “We’ll do it together, just like everything else.” 

She smiles and nods, kissing him once more before she pulls away, smiling at the sound of the kids yelling for them, Rose’s voice drowning out the rest of them. 

“Yeah,” she says, squeezing his hand as they walk towards the den, “Together.”

___

April 2015

It feels like an echo of a previous life. The panic, how it twists deep in her gut as she parks her car outside the hospital, greeting her like an old friend. 

The last time she’d done this he’d simply been her boss, although she knew in hindsight that she’d been in love with him even then. He hadn’t been hers, her confusing feelings for him stuffed deep down under all the other secrets she carried at the time, unable to surface under the weight of her time with Ian Doyle. 

The worry is sharper this time, only made worse by how Dave had sounded on the phone. Their usually cool and unaffected friend sounded strained, his concern for Aaron clear, unable to hide it from her despite his best efforts. 

She bursts into the hospital entrance, her car keys tightly grasped in her first as she approaches the nurse's station. 

“Excuse me,” she says, her voice strained even to her own ears. A nurse looks her up and down, “I-”

“Ma’am, are you okay? Is something wrong with your baby?” 

Emily’s hand drifts to her stomach, more pronounced at this stage in her pregnancy than it had been during her last one with Oscar, because this time she has two babies in her belly. Twins they’d recently found out were both girls, constantly moving as if they were already fighting with each other. 

“No, I’m fine,” she says, sounding harsher than she means to be, “My husband was brought in, Aaron Hotchner. Our friend called me and-”

“Emily.” 

She turns to see Dave standing a few feet away and she abandons the nurse's station, walking over to him as quickly as she can, “Dave, what the hell happened?”

He pulls her into a hug, his embrace tight, almost desperate, and it does nothing to calm her fraying nerves. 

“He got into his head,” he says, his hands still on her shoulders as he pulls back. 

She frowns, her stomach churning for a different reason than she was used to, “Peter Lewis?” She asks, swallowing thickly when Dave nods, “What do you mean he got into his head?” 

Dave sighs and guides her over to a nearby chair and she sits, her hand on her stomach again as she tries to calm herself down, well aware her blood pressure was already something her doctor was concerned about. 

“He drugged him. Made him hallucinate all kinds of things, including some of the team dying,” he says, and she blows out a breath, “Lewis tried to then make him kill us when we came in to rescue him, but he saw through it. I think there's more but he won’t talk about it.” 

She nods, placing her hand on her bump, the movement of her daughters keeping her somewhat grounded, “And Lewis?” 

“He gave himself up immediately,” Dave says, clenching his jaw, anger aimed at the man who had tried to rob his friend of everything that made him who he was, “He got what he wanted.” 

Emily nods, “He got inside Aaron’s head,” she wraps her fingers around her wedding rings, twisting them back and forth, “Can I see him?”

Dave nods and stands up offering her a hand to help her up too but she declines, forcing herself up herself. “He’s pretty out of it,” Dave says, walking her towards Aaron’s room, “But he kept asking about you and the boys, he wanted to make sure you were safe.” 

She chuckles humourlessly and shakes her head, “That sounds about right,” she smiles tightly at him, “He’s the one who got drugged and tortured by a psychopath but he was worried about us whilst we were sat at home.” 

He smiles and nods at her, “He’s in there,” he says, pointing towards the room next to them. Emily turns to go in, desperate to see her husband, but Dave stops her, his hand on her arm, “Bella, non l'ho mai visto così.” 

She feels her heart seize in her chest, her lungs so stuffed full of worry she can’t draw in a breath, so all she does is nod in response, smiling tightly at her friend once more before she walks into Aaron’s room. She immediately sees what Dave means, how delicate Aaron looks, frail in a way she’d never associated with him. He’d always been huge. Tall and wide-shouldered in a way that made her feel small, even though in reality she wasn’t too much shorter than him. In recent years he’d put on a little weight, something that she loved, but hadn’t lost any of his strength. He was her safe space, her haven, and she knew he was the same for their children too.

But right now he looked small, folding in on himself as he jumps as the door opens. She immediately feels guilty, chastising herself internally for spooking him when he’d already been through so much, but she smiles at him in a way she hopes is encouraging. 

“Honey, it’s just me,” she says, stepping towards him, her hands in front of her, one of them on her bump, so he can see them, “It’s Emily.” 

“Sweetheart?” He asks, sounding slightly panicked as he sits up, “Where are Jack and Oscar, are they-”

“Baby,” she says, sitting on the edge of his bed as she cuts him off, squeezing one of his hands between both of hers, her touch immediately stopping him in his tracks, “The boys are fine. Jess is with them. By now they are probably both fast asleep in their beds.” 

He nods, a vacant look in his eyes that was tearing her apart, “And you’re okay?” 

She smiles softly at him, “I’m okay,” she says, placing his hand on her belly, watching a flicker of him pass over his face as one of the babies kicks against his hand, “All three of your girls are,” she adds, and he nods again, remaining silent as they sit there, the silence cloying, overwhelming in a way that makes her choke, “Aaron-”

“Don’t ask me what he made me see,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion, his eyes seeing right through her, as if he was seeing whatever it was all over again, “I can’t…”

She isn’t sure she’s ever hated someone as much as she hates Peter Lewis. She just wants a few minutes alone with him, to see how powerful he was without his drugs and his tools, to give him a taste of his own medicine. She breathes out slowly, well aware that Aaron didn’t need her to be angry now. There would be plenty of time for that later. Right now, he needed her love, a reminder of their lives together. 

“Okay,” she says, shifting closer to him and pulling him into an embrace. He rests his head against her chest and she feels him breathe in deeply, filling his lungs with the smell of home as if it would erase everything he’d been through, “Okay. I’m right here. I love you.” 

“Love you too,” he murmurs, his palms wide and strong on her back, holding her closer, her bump pressed between them as he desperately holds her in place. 

“They got him,” she says, kissing the top of his head, “He won’t hurt us again.”

For a reason she can’t explain, she’s not even sure she believes herself. 

___

She’s nervous in a way she can’t explain when they arrive. 

They’d booked a suite at a downtown hotel despite Dave’s insistence that they could stay with him. Neither of them wanted to place that burden on him, to have their family of 6 taking up space in his home where she knew his grief should be. 

She’d idly wondered if he’d mentioned to the others that they were coming, but it’s a question that is answered when they show up at the funeral and everyone looks shocked to see them. Whispers passed back and forth between JJ, Penelope, Tara and Spencer as well as people that Emily doesn’t recognise. 

At first, their contact only being limited to Dave had been practical, especially when they were still in witness protection. But once everything was safe, once they could have returned, it was something that had continued. The people they had once spent every day with, people who had been in their wedding and held their children when they were newborns, no longer a part of their lives. It made Emily feel guilty, especially when she sees the shock on their faces, the second time in her life she’d been a ghost to them, but she reminds herself that it goes both ways, that there had been almost no attempts at contact from their side either. 

They don’t speak to anyone else until the wake, all of their focus during the funeral is to pay their respects to Krystall and making sure the kids are entertained and they don’t cause a scene if they get bored. Her, Aaron and Jack had taken one of the smaller children each, Wren all but glued to her mother’s side as she looked around a room full of people she didn’t know. The wake is held at Dave’s house, echoes of his wife in every corner, and all Emily needs to do is close her eyes and she’s taken back to her and Aaron’s wedding. Having it here had felt right. She’d never wanted a big wedding and as soon as Aaron proposed she knew she wanted it here. In the place where they’d all come back together in the fallout of Ian and how he’d torn through their lives. 

“Emily.” 

She looks up, her breath catching in her chest as she sees JJ and Penelope walk over to her. There’s a moment of awkward silence as all three of them just look at each other, and then Penelope pulls her into a hug, every bit as fierce and loving as she had remembered. 

“Hi Pen,” she says, holding her back just as tightly. She smiles as she pulls away and then hugs JJ too before she puts some space between them, “It’s…been a long time.”

“We weren’t expecting to see you,” JJ says, crossing her arms over her chest, “I didn’t know you guys were still in touch with Dave.” 

She nods, her lips pressed together in a firm line, “It’s not very often,” she says, “But he called Aaron to tell him about Krystall, and it wouldn’t have felt right to not come.” She feels a pulling at the material of her dress and she looks down to see Wren standing close to her, a nervous look in her eyes as she looks back and forth between her mother and the women she was speaking to. Emily runs her fingers through the girl's hair and crouches down to her level, “You probably don’t remember Mommy and Daddy’s friends, huh?” She says, and she smiles as Wren shakes her head, stepping closer to her as she does so, seeking out her mother’s comfort, “That’s okay, you were very small the last time we were here.” 

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” JJ asks, and it makes something in Emily’s chest pang, because if they’d stayed, if they’d never had to leave, she knows the woman she would have once called her best friend would have been one of the people who could tell the twins apart. She looks at Wren who stays silent, her hand tight around the black material of Emily’s dress. 

“This is Wren,” she says, smiling at her friend as she picks her daughter up, settling her on her hip as she straightens up. Wren rests her head against her shoulder and tangles one of her hands in Emily’s hair, “Wren, these are Mommy’s friends. Jennifer-”

“Like my middle name,” Wren says, smiling as she finally finds her voice, and Emily and JJ exchange a sad smile. 

“Yeah, sweet girl, like your middle name,” she replies, before tilting her towards Penelope, her eyes wide and shining, “And this is Penelope, just like Rosie’s middle name.” 

Penelope clears her throat, pushing down the emotions that had climbed up it, and smiles at the little girl, “You’re very pretty, Wren Jennifer.” 

Wren smiles at the compliment, “I look like Mommy!” 

“Yeah,” Penelope replies, looking back at Emily, “You really do.” 

Emily spots Jack and she puts Wren down, “Go with Jack, ok sweetie? Mommy will come find you in a bit.” 

Wren nods and runs away, calling out Jack’s name in a way that is a little loud for a wake, but no one around seems to care. Strangers all smiling as the little girl is picked up by her brother and carried away. Emily turns back to look at JJ and Penelope and feels the awkwardness return, a mix of regret for the last few years mixing with defiance in her chest. She loved her life, and she’d done what she had to do.

“Sorry,” she says, her fingers immediately wrapping around her wedding rings, twisting them back and forth, “She’s nervous around strang…people she doesn’t know,” she says, correcting herself, the thought that someone she’d named her daughter after being a stranger to her too much to bear. 

“So, where do you guys live?” JJ asks, trying to make the conversation feel a little more normal. 

“New Haven,” she replies, smiling as she thinks of home, “We both teach at Yale. We both do classes in criminology and I do a few in linguistics.” 

“You live in Connecticut?” Penelope asks, furrowing her brow, “You’ve been on the same coast all this time?”

“Well, not all this time,” Emily replies, “We were in witness protection in Ohio but moved up there afterwards.” 

It had been something they’d gone back and forth on when they were deciding where to settle. Their home in Ohio had only ever felt temporary, the place they’d had to hide out from a man who had become so obsessed with Aaron he was stalking their son. Once they’d established they weren’t going to come back to DC they’d considered lots of places, but had settled on Connecticut, their life there different to how it had been before, and all the more precious for it. 

“You never called,” Penelope says, and Emily presses her lips together before she blows out a breath.

“Neither did you,” she replies, no accusation in her voice, her smile sad, “I kind of always assumed you’d look us up.” 

Penelope smiles wryly, “Dave had me under strict instructions to leave you to it. He said he’d never seen either of you so happy,” she says, looking at JJ before she looks back at Emily, “Who were we to mess with that after everything you’ve both been through.” 

Emily nods, “How about we all agree to be better at staying in touch going forward?” She says, hoping it wasn’t a false promise, “You could come and visit, we have plenty of room.” 

Penelope smiles, her expression widely inappropriate for where they were, “Oh my god you live in some kind of mansion don’t you?” 

She presses her lips together to stop herself from smiling as she thinks of their home, how Aaron’s eyes had almost bugged out of his head when they first saw it. It hadn’t cost much more than their home in DC, but it was almost twice the size. Large and airy but comforting, everything she’d always hoped for. 

“Something like that.”

___

May 2016

She’s chewed her nails almost to the quick. She knows he’ll pick up on it, that he’ll comment on the damage that she’s done, the spots of blood that always seemed fresh along her nail line, but she thinks she should get a pass. 

Her husband had been arrested for something he hadn’t done after all. 

It had only been a handful of days, three at most, but they’d blurred into one. Concern and fear that something would happen to him whilst he was in there, all of her previous jokes that all you had to do was look at him and you knew he was a cop haunting her as she failed to sleep. The team wouldn’t let her get involved, and neither would her direct superior on the Counterterrorism team, the job she’d returned to have she had the twins. Everyone sent her home, told her to be with her children, as if that would take her mind off of things. 

Derek had been the one to call her to say they’d done it, that they’d proven Aaron’s innocence, and she doesn’t think she’d ever gotten out of the house faster. Jessica had been staying over with her since Aaron had been arrested, helping her with the kids and being emotional support. It was strange to Emily to think sometimes that one of her closest friends was the sister of her husband’s dead ex-wife, but life had always had a way of surprising her. Jessica offered to stay with the children whilst Emily went to the prison to meet Aaron, her desperation to see him clear. 

She paces the sidewalk outside of the prison, what remains of her thumbnail in her teeth as seconds feel like hours as they pass by. She checks the time on her phone, her wallpaper, a photo of their family, of her and Aaron holding one of the girls each, Wren in her arms and Rose in Aaron’s, with Jack and Oscar on either side of them, making her ache. When the front door opens, the metal clang of it ringing out around her, she turns so quickly she pulls her neck, but she barely feels it. A shuddering sigh escapes her in relief as her eyes meet his. He was wearing the suit he’d worn when he last left home, rumbled and dirty now, and his beard had grown out a little. It was the first time ever that the sight of it made her feel nauseous, instead of the usual lust that would take over her.  Dave is with him but hangs back, a few paces behind her husband so he can give them some time together. 

They move at the same time, closing the gap between them as they meet in an embrace that winds them both, knocking the air out of each other's lungs as they hug tightly. His arms band around her back, holding her with such ferocity her feet leave the ground, her toes just about scraping the cement. She pulls back just enough to kiss him, her lips fierce against his as he kisses her back, his fists tight in her shirt. She looks at him, her hand on his cheek as she checks for injuries.

“Are you okay?” She asks, the question sounding ridiculous as she asks it, her voice croaking in a way she hates. 

“I’m as okay as I can be,” he replies, pressing his forehead against hers, “How about you, and the kids?”

“Same,” she replies, “They are excited to see you.”

He nods, the thought of seeing his wife and kids, of holding them all like she was currently holding her, had been the only thing that had got him through the last few days. “I’m excited to see them too, as soon as this case-”

“No,” she says, squeezing him harder as he tries to turn away, to look at Dave over his shoulder, “Let’s just go home,” she all but begs, the thought of him going to work, of leaving her sight, too much to bear, “Please, the team can handle it without you.” 

It’s a turning point in their relationship. She’d never asked him to step away from work before. She understood him, she was the same. They both valued their work and its importance, but this was different. This case, anything to do with Peter Lewis, was always trying to pull them apart, and she couldn’t take it anymore. 

And from the look on his face, she doesn’t think he can either.

He crumbles, any resolve he may have had to not go straight home with her already weak as it was. He turns to look at Dave and he doesn’t even have to say anything, a sad yet knowing smile on the other man's face. 

“My advice, as a man who has been divorced three times?” He says, stepping towards them and pressing his hand on Aaron’s shoulder. He smiles at Emily as he carries on, “Listen to your wife. We’ve got it, Aaron. Go home and hug your children.” 

Aaron nods, not needing any further encouragement, and he looks down at his wife, “Let’s go home.”

Emily almost sags with relief against him, hugging him one more time before she pulls away, linking her hand through his, not wanting to lose the connection. She looks at Dave, her relief palpable as she speaks. 

“Grazie.” 

“Sempre,” he replies, winking at her before he walks away back to his car, ready to join the team to finish what they’d started. 

Emily looks back at Aaron and squeezes his hand, “Come on, I’ll drive.” 

He follows her gladly to their car, and it’s only when she lets go of his hand to dig the car keys out of her pocket that he sees her nails, now they’ve been torn to pieces. He grabs her hand again and looks closer, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of them.

“Em…”

She smiles sadly at him and shrugs, “Give a girl a break, my husband was in prison for something he didn’t do and I didn’t know if something was going to happen to him.” 

He hugs her again, the weight of her against him soothing his weary soul as she leans into him, “I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

“It’s not your fault,” she says, cupping his cheek, the rasp of his beard against her skin a good reminder that he was here, that she had him back, “It’s all Peter Lewis,” she says, clenching her teeth, “And he’ll eventually get what's coming to him,” she leans forward and stamps a kiss against his lips, pressing her forehead into his, “Now, lets get you home and showered. You stink.” 

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and she kisses him once more before she pulls back. Their car journey home is silent, his hand on her thigh as she drives, and she can’t shake the sinking feeling that this isn’t over yet. 

___

Emily yawns as she runs her fingers through Oscar’s hair, the boy fast asleep with his head in her lap. They were back at their hotel, and even though he’d insisted he wasn’t tired, that he wanted to sit and watch TV with her whilst Aaron gave the twins a bath and got them ready for bed, he’d fallen asleep almost immediately. She’d considered getting him into the room he was sharing with Jack whilst they were here, but she so rarely got time with her youngest son like this anymore so she was relishing in it. 

She looks up as she hears a door open and smiles softly at Jack as he walks into the room. He was still wearing his suit from the funeral but he’d taken off his tie. He was taller than her now, and looked so incredibly grown up it made her ache. It was strange to think he’d been younger than Oscar when she’d first started dating Aaron. Her boyfriend's son who had also become hers, her love for him no different than for the three she’d carried herself. 

“Are you okay, sweetie?” She asks, still running her fingers through Oscar’s hair as Jack joins them on the couch, his sigh heavy as he sits down. 

He hums and looks around, “Where’s Dad?”

“Right now I’d say he’s trying to stop the twins from flooding the bathroom,” she replies, watching him carefully, giving him a moment before she prompts him, “It must have been strange for you to be back here.”

Krystall had been buried in the same cemetery as Haley, so they’d made sure to take some flowers to rest there, placing them alongside the ones she knew Jessica made sure were always fresh. She’d spotted Jack standing there after the service, his eyes fixed on his mother’s headstone and his hands shoved deep in his pockets. 

“Not any stranger than it is for you guys I guess,” he says, smiling tightly at her, “Do you miss living here?” 

She sighs as she thinks about it. The answer, as with most things in her life, wasn’t simple. She missed how it used to be, how this place used to make her feel safe until that sense of peace was destroyed for her. She’d worked hard to claw it back after Ian, with no small amount of help from Jack and Aaron, the two of them slowly helping her find her place here again. She knew that without them she wouldn’t have made it, that she would left much earlier than she ended up doing, but she would have been alone, not with the family that she had built around her. 

“Yes and no,” she replies eventually, always determined never to lie to him, “I miss the team, how things used to be with them, but I love our home and where we live,” she says, smiling when he does, “Do you miss living here?” 

He shrugs, “Yes and no,” he replies, his smile briefly wide as she rolls her eyes at his repetition of her answer. His smile fades and he looks down at his hands, sighing as he avoids her eye contact, “I’m sorry, Mom.” 

She frowns, her eyebrows creasing together as she looks at him, “What for honey?” 

“I know we had to leave because of me,” he says, still looking at his hands, “You wouldn’t have lost contact with everyone if you didn’t have to keep me safe from that Scratch guy.” 

She swears she can hear her heart crack, the sound reverberating around her head, and not for the first time, and certainly not the last, she internally curses a man who was long since dead. She gently shifts from underneath Oscar, placing a pillow under his head, and she moves closer to Jack, she cups his chin and makes him look at her.

“Jack, nothing about what happened is your fault,” she says, smiling encouragingly at him as she wipes a tear she knows he’ll deny existed later from his cheek, “You have nothing to apologise for. The only person to blame is long gone, and he can’t hurt any of us anymore. Your Dad and I…we did what we had to do. And I’d do it all again to know you grew up safe and away from it all, okay?” 

He sniffs and nods, “Okay.”

“Good,” she says, pulling him into a hug that he gladly returns, his arms fierce and tight around her. For a moment she misses when he was small, when he could fit in her lap and her embrace would envelop him, not the other way around. 

“Love you, Mom.”

She smiles and kisses the side of his head, “Love you too, honey.” 

___

November 2016

Emily paces back and forth in their bedroom with a cranky and sick Rose in her arms. The 15-month-old was the latest to come down with the cold that Jack had brought home from school, and she refused to be put down, crying anytime she wasn’t in the comfort of one of her parents embrace. Emily doesn’t mind, happy to stay up the whole night if her little girl needed her, well aware that the baby’s clinginess was something the was a comfort to them both right now, the weight of her daughter against her chest one of the only things keeping her grounded. 

“Mama,” Rose grumbles, pressing her face into her mother’s neck, as if she’d find the relief to her sore head and blocked nose there. Emily shushes her as she kisses the side of her daughter’s head. 

“Mama’s got you Rosie girl, you’re okay,” she says, still walking back and forth, hoping she could finally get the baby off to sleep, “You’re okay.” She looks up as the door opens, her eyes meeting her husband’s as he steps into the room looking every bit as weary as she feels. He walks over and kisses her cheek before he does the same with Rose, his hand on the back of the little girl's head. “Is everything…” 

He smiles tightly at her as she drifts off, the words dying in her throat, the now familiar fear that had been haunting them for months back in full force. Peter Lewis was stalking Jack. Following him everywhere, his own past imprinted on the 11-year-old through his obsession with Aaron. 

“I’ve double-checked all the locks and the alarm, and we have some local cops stationed outside until we know what we’re doing.”

She chuckles humourlessly and looks down, relieved that Rose was now sleeping, “Yeah,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed, keeping her daughter secure in her arms, “Because he’s never managed to sneak past cops before.”

Aaron sighs, overwhelmed by guilt as he pushes his fingers through his hair, “Em…”

“I know,” she says, clearing her throat as she shakes her head at herself, “I know, I’m sorry,” she says, unhooking one of her arms from around the baby sleeping against her and offering it out to him. He joins her on the bed, sitting so close their thighs are pressed together, and she wraps her hand around his, “I’m just scared, Aaron,” she says, her lower lip trembling with the force of everything she was feeling, “He’s never going to stop.” 

He wraps his arm around her, tugging her and Rose into his embrace, his arms banding around them. He wished it was always this simple, that he could protect them all by just holding them, his embrace as safe a place as Emily had always said it was. He knows he can’t do that though, that he’d failed again and again to protect his family from a man who seemed intent on destroying them. He heaves in a deep breath as he prepares to say what's been on his mind all day, something he knows won’t go down well.

“I think you and the kids should go away for a while,” he says, and he feels her tense in his arms, her body immediately tight as she pulls back to look at him, her irritation at his suggestion immediately clear, “It’s the only way I can keep you safe.”

“No.” 

He sighs at her tone, the complete lack of room for argument, and he feels his heart sink in his chest, “Em-”

“No,” she repeats, harsher this time, anger for the situation and everything they’d been put through since Peter Lewis first set his sights on Aaron finally breaking free, “We’re not going anywhere without you. I refuse. I’m not leaving you here as bait for a man that wants you dead,” a tear falls past her lashline and he wipes it away, his calloused thumb soft against her cheek, “I’m not doing it, Aaron.” 

“He made me watch you die,” he says, his tone just as harsh as hers. He swallows thickly, his jaw tense as she frowns at him, her eyebrows knitting together. He’d never told her everything that Peter Lewis had done to him when he’d captured him, never quite able to bring himself to explain all the terrible things he’d seen, “He…you and the kids were dead. He tried to convince me it was real and it felt it.” 

Her heart aches, the thought of it enough to stop her from breathing, and she holds Rose even tighter, taking a moment to kiss her cheek, “Honey, thats all the more reason for me not to leave you here. If he did that last time, god knows what he’d do this time and I…” 

She doesn’t know how to explain it to him, how to put into words how this whole situation had shaken her faith in the system she’d always been a part of. The system she’d died for. How watching him get arrested and put in prison for something he hadn’t done, how he’d been treated by people he’d protected again and again, had made her start to question what the hell they’d both risked their lives for over the years. 

She knew he was right on some level, that they couldn’t carry on as they had been, especially now the target had switched to their children, but she wasn’t going anywhere without him. She knew if she did, if Aaron was left alone, that she’d likely never see him again. That the man who had been taunting them for well over a year would likely get his wish and kill him. She didn’t want to raise their kids alone, didn’t want to have to remind her 4-year-old son and baby daughters how much their dad loved them, fill their lives with memories of a man they didn’t remember because he wasn’t there to do it himself. She didn’t want to take Jack away from his father for the second time in his life, to force him to once again live away from him.

She didn’t want to live without the love of her life. 

“Either we all go, or none of us do,” she says, breaking the tense silence they had fallen into. She watches as he frowns, his eyebrows knitting together as her words wash over him. She places her hand on his cheek, “I am so done with what that rat faced fucker is doing to us, what he is doing to our children’s lives. Honey, they deserve to have us both, safe and with them.”

He nods, leaning forward to press his forehead into hers, his eyes screwed shut as he heaves in a deep breath, “It will mean walking away from everything. Our friends. Our careers. Our home.”

She nods, pressing her lips together to stop the shake of them, “I know, but we’ll be together. The kids will be safe,” she pulls back to look at him, her chin trembling as she tries to stop herself from crying, “And my home is wherever you are.” 

He smiles softly at her, reaching out to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, “My home is wherever you are too.” 

“This job has taken so much from both of us,” she says, shrugging slightly, looking down at the baby in her arms, smiling at the innocence her daughter had. The way her cheek was squished against her chest, her face relaxed as she slept, wholly unaware of the danger around them. She looks back at Aaron, “I won’t let it take you.” 

He nods, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, lingering longer than normal, breathing her in before he pulls back.

“Okay.”

She feels like she’s been hit by a wave of relief, sure it would have knocked her over if she’d been standing, “Okay?” 

He nods again and hugs her, “We’ll all go,” he says, the feeling of her sagging into his side the only evidence he needed that he’d made the right call.

“I love you,” she says, turning her head to kiss his throat, her lips soft against his skin.

“I love you too.”

For the first time in a long time, it felt like that would be enough to get them through.

___

“Ok, boys,” Aaron says as they walk through the front door, “Straight to bed.”

Jack and Oscar's exhaustion from the long car journey home is clear when neither of them argues with him, both nodding as they exchange goodnights with their parents before they head upstairs. He adjusts his hold on Wren, the 5-year-old fast asleep in his arms and turns to look at Emily, who had Rose in hers, her face pressed into her mother’s neck. 

“We’ll take them up and then meet in our room?” He says and Emily nods, leaning in to press a kiss to Wren’s head. 

“Night sweet girl,” she whispers, not wanting to wake either of the sleeping girls up, “Mommy loves you.” 

They walk up the stairs and head into each of the girl's rooms, careful not to make too much noise as they go. Emily pulls back the covers on Rose’s bed and lays her down, grateful that she’d insisted the girls travel back home in their pjyamas, well aware that this would be what they’d end up doing. She tucks Rose in and makes sure her favourite stuffed animal is in reach and she leans down to press a kiss to her forehead. Rose stirs slightly, pulling the covers in tighter around herself. 

“Love you, Mama,” she murmurs, not even fully awake, but aware of her mother’s presence. 

“Love you too, Ro-Ro,” she says, using the nickname that Rose only let her use, “Go back to sleep, sweetie.” 

She smiles as she hears her daughter’s breathing even out, and she kisses her forehead again before she stands up and heads to the master bedroom down the hall. She sighs as she sits on the edge of the bed and takes off her shoes, groaning in delight as she slips the heels off and lets them drop to the floor. 

“It’s always concerning when you make that noise at anything other than me.”

She chuckles as she looks up at her husband, “Oh honey, you know you’re the only reason I ever mean it,” she says, winking at him. She raises her arm to offer him her hand, and he walks over, linking their fingers before he joins her on the bed. She rests her head on his shoulder and yawns, “I’m so tired.” 

He chuckles as he kisses her forehead, “And you’re not the one who drove for almost 7 hours today.” 

“I’m a passenger princess and you know it,” she says, wrapping both of her arms around his, hugging it to her chest, “And don’t act like you don’t love it.” 

He can’t deny it so he simply kisses her forehead again and breathes her in, the smell of her shampoo as comforting as it always had been. He doesn’t miss the desperation in the way she’s hugging his arm to her chest, the way she’s pressing her face into his shoulder, as if at any second he’d be torn away from her. He know that going back had been hard on her, on all of them. That seeing their friends again, all of them making promises as they left that he hopes they all keep, had been draining. Emotionally taxing in an already charged situation. 

“You ok, sweetheart?” 

She hums, squeezing his arm a little tighter, “I just keep thinking about Dave,” she says, tilting her head to look up at him, “He loved her so much and now she’s gone. What do you do with all that love when you lose someone? Where does it go?” She asks, sighing sadly as their eyes meet, “I’m not expecting you to answer that by the way I just…I just keep thinking about how I’d feel if I lost you, and it’s unbearable.” 

He pulls his arm out of hers so he can wrap it around her, holding her close and fiercely, surrounding her with his love to remind her she still had it. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Em,” he says, cupping her cheek and making her look at him, “I’m right here - you haven’t lost me.”

“I know, but I almost have so many times and being back there was a reminder of that,” she says, her eyes searching his, “I’m so glad we’re home.” 

He knows there is very little he can say to comfort her, that it will take days for her to feel like she’s on an even footing again, so he simply nods. He stamps a kiss on her forehead and then on her lips.

“Me too, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her again, “Me too.” 

___

October 2017

She’s only just got both the twins down for their nap when the doorbell rings. She curses under her breath and hopes Aaron can make it to the front door before the doorbell rings again, the chances of getting both Wren and Rose back to sleep if they wake up slim to none. 

She hears the front door open and sighs in relief, looking back at her daughters once more before she leaves the nursery. She hears the door close again as she walks down the stairs, baby monitor in hand, and she’s already talking by the time she makes it to the foyer.

“Who was that, honey? Was it the neighbour…” she drifts off as she looks up, her words dying in her throat as her eyes land on someone standing next to her husband who she hadn’t realised knew where they lived, “Dave?” 

He smiles at her, “Hi Bella.” 

She walks over and hugs him tightly, her eyebrows creasing at the sight of his black eye and the healing cuts on his face, “You look like shit.” 

He chuckles and shakes his head, “Nice to see you too.”

Any further conversation is cut off as Jack walks in, Oscar just a few paces behind him as always, and he freezes, “Uncle Dave?” 

“Jack,” the older man says, looking past him, “And Oscar, you’re both getting so big.” 

Emily looks at her husband, their eyes meeting in a silent conversation and she nods towards the boys. 

There was only one reason Dave would be here, that he would risk the protection they’d been forced into almost a year ago. 

“Jack,” Aaron says, making eye contact with his oldest, “You can catch up with Uncle Dave later, for now you and Oscar can go play.”

The way he says it leaves no room for argument and Jack knows it, grabbing his younger brother’s hand before he leads him away and further into the house, “Come on Ozzie, the grown-ups need to speak to each other.” 

As soon as they are alone Aaron suggests they go to the living room, and Emily watches as Dave looks at the pictures hung on almost every surface of their house, a soft smile on his face as he takes it all in. They all sit down in the living room, Aaron’s hand tight around his wife’s, both of them desperately needing the comfort, familiar panic climbing up both of their throats. 

“What’s going on?” Emily asks, “If you’re here that means…”

“Peter Lewis is dead,” he says, finishing the thought she hadn’t dared to verbalise, worried it was almost too good to be true. 

The relief is palpable, overwhelming in a way that forces her breath to catch in her chest. It was over. The man who had tried to break them apart was gone.

“You’re sure?” Aaron asks, running his thumb back and forth over his wife’s pulse point, and Dave nods. 

“Saw the bastard die myself.”

Emily can tell there is more to the story, a look in her friend’s eyes that he couldn’t hide from them, “What happened?”

They listen as he explains it all to them. How a new member of the team, Stephen, had died in the pursuit of Peter Lewis. How Dave himself had been captured, tortured with the same methods that had been used on Aaron years ago in an attempt to find out where they were. How Spencer and the rest of them had rescued him, and the final showdown that had led to the death of Lewis. 

Neither she nor Aaron know what to say, the story heavy as it sits in the air around them, creating a tension that rarely existed in their lives these days. There’s a cry from upstairs, one of the twins awake before she should be, and Emily immediately moves to go see her, but Aaron stops her, his hand on her thigh.

“I’ll go,” he says, the tight smile on his face enough to let her know that he needed a moment, needed a few minutes with one of their children to remind himself that everything was okay. She nods and he stands up, walking over to Dave, who also stands, and pulling the other man into a hug, “Thank you, Dave. I…thank you.”

It didn’t seem like enough, and Aaron wasn’t sure anything ever would, but Dave simply nods, a soft smile on his face.

“Anytime,” he says, his smile turning into a smirk, “Although I think I’m too old to go through it all again so you two better stay out of trouble.”

Aaron chuckles and nods, patting his friend on the back before he leaves the room, his footsteps loud on the stairs as he goes up them. Emily looks at her friend and leans back on the couch, blowing out a steady breath as she shakes her head. 

“What’s wrong, Bella?” He asks, and she raises her eyebrow at him, causing him to shrug, “That’s your tell.” 

She rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath, “That’s what Aaron always says too,” she flashes him a smile, “I don’t know what to do next,” she says, overwhelmed with it all, with the fact they were free, “It’s been so long since we haven’t had to look over our shoulders for him. Fuck, I was still pregnant with the girls when this all started,” she runs her hands over her face, “I don’t know what to do next,” she repeats, not looking for an answer but unable to keep the thought to herself. 

“Do you want advice from an old man?”

She smiles as she sits up a little straighter, “That’s the second time you’ve called yourself old since you got here, if you’re fishing for compliments you’re looking in the wrong place,” she jokes, smiling when he shakes his head at her, “Yes, I’d like some advice.” 

“Don’t come back.” He says simply. Whatever she had been expecting him to say, it hadn’t been that, and she frowns, tilting her head at him in confusion. He chuckles, “Not that I don’t miss having you and your delightful personality around all the time, but the two of you seem happy. Happier than you’ve ever been.” he says, looking around the living room, gesturing at all the signs of their normal, happy life. Half-drawn pictures on paper strewn on the coffee table, photos of all of the stages of the kid's lives, brightly coloured plastic toys in amongst all of the modern furniture, “You have a life away from it all and as someone who has never quite been able to pull himself away, I think you’d be crazy to come back to it.” 

She nods, her lips pressed together as she thinks about it. She’s not sure she wants to go back, the mere thought of it, of reintroducing that kind of danger to her day-to-day life, and therefore the lives of her children, almost too much to bear. 

“I think you’re right.” 

He smirks at her, “Things really have changed, I don’t think you’ve ever said that before.” 

She shakes her head and chokes out a laugh, “Stronzo.” 

He places his hand on her shoulder and squeezes, his expression serious again, “I mean it, Emily. You both deserve this. I’m not saying you should stay right here, but now he’s gone you can go wherever you want.” 

It’s a type of freedom she’d missed. Her life hidden away for the last year or so as she waited for the other shoe to drop, sure every time that she heard a noise in the middle of the night that Lewis had found them. 

“It’s strange,” she says, smiling softly at him, “I’ve started from scratch so many times in my life, I never thought I’d do it again.” 

Aaron walks into the room, a sleepy but awake Wren on his hip, her tiny fist rubbing at her eye, “That’s a terrible pun, sweetheart.”

She looks back and forth between Dave and Aaron, feeling like she’s missing out on something as they both laugh, and she sighs when the penny drops. 

“I didn’t mean that,” she says, unable to stop herself from joining in on the laughter, the sound light and free as it fills the room, “You jerks.” 

-x-

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[the-acid-pear]

Okay i don't have the brain power to watch the rest of NRN NAT video but god that first half was horrendous anyway here's my "Reason You Suck" Speech for anyone who cares

Okay i actually got so railed up about this i got a headache so i need to counter argue to many of your points about Steven. Starting with something i see a lot of people not realize and is that yes, indeed, all endings ARE canon. This is pretty clearly explained by Henry in the secret tape (you get it from fishing it out the ballpit or from the dodo, both very annoying methods so i dont blame anyone from missing this) and it explains Jack's soul is one with time powers that will revert time based on regret. With this, we know not only EVERY ending and game over is canon but also something Jack remembers.

Keeping this on mind, Jack's obvious bias towards Dave compared to Steven MAKES sense, because there's no timeline where Steven is nice unless he's doing it out of being forced to do so (owing you a favor). On top of that, there's another detail: Jack DID know about Dave's backstory!

When he learned it is obviously not clear but there's to places where its implied he does, in fact, know about it: Dee's fight, obviously, and Jake's backstory. In Dee's fight she asks him for confirmation on whether this was true and he's like "yeah" meaning this isnt news for him, and in Jake's backstory he talks about this EVEN if he didnt go to the flipside or heard the tapes, meaning that at some point he had an honest heart to heart with Dave about his past and such.

Now, relating it back to Steven: I feel that they cannot even be fucking compared. I think Steven would be better compared to the other two phone guys we see making a decision like this, those being Harry (ironically the one who made Steven) and Peter. I mean, Roger and Jake are also in the same situation, but they're just following what their boss says so they cannot be counted in.

Peter for his part is an outlier, because he's the first Phone Guy we EVER see decide to not send someone to the factory (that being Jimbo), completely ignoring what this would mean for him (if anything, since we don't really know if there are consequences or not). Harry and Steven, obviously, did send their respective coworkers there, but there's a main difference: Steven was utterly remorseful about this while Harry kind of... thought genuinely this was a good idea?

Which does say a lot about how Harry views himself but it also says something about Steven: that he's a fucking coward. Which we did, in fact, know, but this reinforces it.

Steven made a choice by his own voalition, and i don't think this is even fair to compare with Dave. Dave was being abused and manipulated by his father figure and the only person who had ever been nice to him, the only person he thought he had in the world. He was regretful too but he really wanted to trust Henry because what did he have if he left? Steven on the other hand is not being "molly cuddled" by anyone but a manual.

This isnt to say Steven isnt tragic, he is! He, like everyone else, is a complex and tragic character who did unfortunately go quite unexplored, but he's also a bad person because he chooses to be so. He'd have been like Peter, he'd have broken the cycle, he'd have done anything a man aware of the weight of his actions could do, but he didn't, because he was scared!

Also i must point out this very cowardice also reflects on his own violence because to say he's not as bad as Peter is just plain bullshit. Peter was a bit more festive yes but he at least let you Pee On Slides and Gave You Warnings. Steven kicked me in the fucking springlocks because my puns were bad. That guy was brutal and cruel but also wouldnt dare to kick Jack's ass if he was out of that stupid cool cat suit.

So, to wrap this up now that my blood pressure went to safe levels again: when you look at the whole picture Jack's feelings towards Dave and Steven are not entirely unjustified. The way that tangerine goes about doing anything at all is highly questionable though but he's like everyone else just a flawed individual. And that's what makes this franchise so compelling

[peterlorres21stcentury]

stupid sexy fantasies

I have the same fantasies over and over. It's like my brain refuses to think of anything normal or interesting. These things show up in my writing a lot, to the point where I worry that readers will notice how repetitive I really am.

So here's a brief look into my strange inner self, as I imagine telling all this to a kindly therapist in the image of Peter Lorre because I cannot afford one in real life.

*taking notes* Patient is clearly a deviant and a lost cause.

The following was difficult to write down because of shyness but I'm making an effort to be bolder this year:

I'm sure I mentioned this before but I have a huge fetish for bellies. So much. I don't even know why, but I've had this fascination since I was not quite three years old. At least that's when I first remember it. As time went on it went hand-in-hand with a fat/weight gain fetish. I always made up little stories to myself about hungry characters with grumbly tummies who eventually had the opportunity to eat as much as they wanted, and then they rested with a good full belly that happily gurgled away while they slept. Invariably they would eat more and get fatter because in my head, plump bellies = the sexiest thing on planet earth. I STILL find every opportunity to work these things into my fiction and I'm sure it gets old for literally everyone except me.

And I can't forget belly rubs. Bellies are a vulnerable part of us, and something about being allowed to rest on top of someone to soothe and kiss their bloated belly and listen to their food digest is deeply exciting for me. I love getting the same kind of attention, too. I want to be told how fat I am, or praised for the impressive amount of food I managed to put away (in a nice way. Like an appreciative, admiring kind of way). Also if we're cuddling/making out and things are starting to get hot, and our stomachs press together... 😍😍 It just feels amazing and it's so comforting. It represents trust. (btw if there's some long German or perhaps Yiddish vocabulary word for this precise feeling of comfort/safety/sexual lust/belly and/or food obsession in general, I'd really like to learn what it is).

If I'm in another kind of mood, I also like vore; the impossible fantasy of a person swallowing another person whole. Obviously this cannot be done by humans, but in fiction all manner of weird things are possible. The same belly stuff applies here--the predator ends up with a HUGE belly which is always exciting--but there's also that element of control in play. The predator exerts control over their helpless prey by literally consuming them. I like it when prey gets digested, because I just can't be normal about anything. I'm either a soft cuddle bug or a devouring predator and there isn't much in between. I don't know what that says about me.

ANYway, after all that, it's inevitable that I would start to combine various obsessions, so all these fantasies typically involve Peter Lorre in some way. Now that I think about it, my fetishes may have initially played into my love for Peter. See, my obsession with Peter began when I first saw "Arsenic and Old Lace." And there's a line, right after Jonathan and Dr. Einstein first show up at the Brewster home:

Jonathan: I hope there's a fatted calf awaiting the return of the prodigal.

Einstein: A fatted calf? Oh, Johnny, I'm so hungry...

I remember the exact moment when I first saw that and a few things went through my teenage brain at once: "omg, the little doctor is so pitiful and cute. OMG, he just said he was hungry?? !!!! Must feed him. C'mon, somebody feed him, he's starving. Oh I hope he gets to eat soon." I spent the rest of the scene in a state of confused excitement while hoping nobody else noticed the emotional whirlwind I was in. Ever since then, Peter was my favorite actor forever, the end.

I'm sure I would have loved him anyway even if I didn't have the aforementioned fetishes, but now I'm stuck imagining him as the subject of various tummy fantasies, too. I mean, by all accounts he loved food and sort of naturally tended to be plump. What if he enjoyed this kind of thing too? Would he like it if someone, say me in another life, admitted all this to him and gave him loving belly rubs as a form of foreplay? I dunno... but I hope he would like it.

[kachwoww]

More Jegulus Recs because i'm an addict

the shrine of your lies (is where i lay) by Kayaannii Prince!James meets Assassin!Regulus… v well written, and very fun! This is wolfstar as well! Not super long yet but from what I've read so far, there will be a lot of Black Brother Angst in the future. Slight warning, explicit like graphic, also there's very much a knife kink so if you're not into that this prob won't be for you!

l'éphémère (the ephemeral) by @anouri James hits Regulus with a motorcycle. Not the most common meet cute but they make it work. I'm 90% sure I've already recced this oh well. If you like Best Friend's Brother, you'll like this. Sirius and Regulus will make you cry in the most recent chapter. There are a couple pretty intense things in here, so make sure to thoroughly read the tags! I’ve been keeping up w this fic for a while and it one of my favs so I hope y’all read it!!

You, Me & Everyone Else by ygmoony I was grinning the entire time I read this fic. It is wolfstar and jegulus... but Remus & Regulus steal. the. show. They're just so...? I don't even have the words they're literally best friends your honour. I cannot wait for the next chapter, and for the chaos of the plot to kick in because I'm already OBSESSED. I think I’ve seen maybe one person mention this fic and it’s my personal mission to spread it, I’m in love w it

friday night lumieres by raiyag This one has blown up recently so I had to give it a read. I like it! It's very different from a lot of marauders fics, it's American high school au, centred around sports (and sports med). Very fun read. I liked the miscommunication between Regulus and Sirius. It is marked as explicit, even though from what I remember there hasn't been anything yet, remember all characters are in high school so keep that in mind!

For the Hope of it All by Bastetmoon (@alexaryebread) Yall. YALL. This is my fav fic on the list and that is saying something. It's basically a jegulus august au (the taylor swift love triangle) and I cannot (cannot) get enough. I was kicking my feet and giggling the entire time I read this. Every single character in this fic is a MESS and I love them all. Not a single one of them makes a good choice at any point ever and it is so entertaining, there is not a brain cell to be found. In other words, it's actually a pretty realistic representation of high school. It is very early 2000s teen tv show, like riverdale(season 1 anyways). It is so cute, and I cannot wait till it updates!!!

a matter of time by reggiecanswim

Ok I had to rewrite this summary because this fic has updated a lot. There will be spoilers so if you don’t want that, just know it’s an absolutely fan fucking tastic fic, and I highly recommend it. So it’s semi canon compliant. It follows the marauders (plus regulus) through most of hogwarts and that part is very much child/teen hood friendship, relationship drama and is pretty light. It gets darker in the last year (Regulus’ 6th, the marauders 7th) the prank is also featured and it’s incredibly well done, on par with choices’ handling of the prank in my opinion. Then the war. Regulus becomes a death eater and defects, is a double agent for a while gets caught and tortured has a very traumatic brain injury recovers, and has to live with the potters while he recovers. James lowkey cheats on Lily with him by the end. Ok not lowkey he does. I don’t condone this, and honestly I think it’s out of character for James but it is well written and enjoyable to read so if you aren’t into that don’t read it. After that canon… fixes itself. They find out peters the spy too late james and Lily die, Sirius goes to kill Peter and brings regulus with him, and Peter kills regulus along with the muggle (and frames Sirius for all the murders as well as his own death.) so yeah regulus does die. I was a little disappointed by this because I haven’t seen many regulus!lives fics that follow him into the canon story and see how his presence changes things but again it was well written, and I even cried so I can’t really complain. I think there’s one more chapter left so I’ll update when that comes out. Side note, I’m curious to see if they’ll add regulus to Sirius’ victims count or they’ll say he was a part of the plot to kill Peter (and the muggle) and died in the process, probably leaning toward the later because he was a death eater but the former would be very interesting.

You Missed My Heart by pinkpanther1465

Criminal minds au!!! The characters don’t line up exactly, but James is Reid, Remus is Hotch but it’s established wolfstar. Very cute but sort of sad, updates are pretty frequent and it’s different than a lot of jegulus fics I’ve read!

love is not a predicate by mordax

Yall this is the boarding school fic to end all boarding school fics. I literally read all of it (it’s over 100k rn) in like 3 hours with almost no breaks. I ate this shit up. Pandora and Reg are the bestest, and JAMES? He has my whole heart. He just wants to listen to the piano. But the real star of this fic is the absolute perfect representation of Sirius and Regulus’ relationship and their whole family being the worst. It’s just great you need to read it.

En Avant by bluerosebouquet (@sortasirius)

The best depiction of grief I've read in a fic so far. I usually don't like jegulus fics where Lily dies, because the writer is always so eager to get to the jegulus they just brush over Jily, this fic doesn't do that. Like not at all. It's also very sad, but in a happy way? That didn't make sense. You'll cry by chapter 2, but it's not soul crushing depressing. Is that better? As of now the Sirius & Regulus relationship is looking unfixable, I really hope that changes, because I love them and I'd love to see this author's take on their dynamic, and also I really want the specific backstory for their falling out. I put reading this one off for a while because it's very long but I finished it in like 4 hours, maybe less actually, you really get right through it. ANyways go read it and tell them they're amazing.

[inkdemonapologist]

SESSION TWELVE of the BatIM Call of Cthulhu game, aka Continuing to have a Great Time At The Masquerade! : )

Joey and Bendy destabilised early on, meaning Joey went through the ENTIRE masquerade UNABLE TO STOP SMILING

getting some mixed messages here, Joey

Sometimes u dress ur characters up as rabbits for fun but then you have a lot of emotions about them losing their minds and then u gotta draw them losing their minds while dressed as rabbits... anyway Jack being mind-controlled did NOT help Sammy hold onto his mental stability at this nightmare party in case you were wondering,

ANYWAY HAVE, MORE OUT-OF-CONTEXT QUOTES, UNDER THE CUT

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[GM] Joey, make a POW roll also... [Joey] Oh, boy, [GM] ...because Bendy was also told to enjoy this party, and you guys just passed a plate of food, and he wants to eat! [Jack] FEED YOUR SON! [Joey] No!!! [Henry] HES A HUNGRY BOY! [Sammy] A GROWING BOY!

[Henry] Henry will look back to see if Moonlight is trying to follow them! [GM] He will see that Moonlight has grabbed onto the railing of the stairs and is hobbling slowly down them. [Joey] *extremely evil-sounding cackling*

[Jack] All Cthulhu Official Dice actually come weighted, to make you fail.

[Henry] Gotta try harder than that, bitch! [Henry] ....that wasn't in character. [Jack] It's in character, but he's only thinking it. [Sammy] That's the golden text you see on the wall if you use the seeing tool

[Henry] My Luck is 68, I don't know what y'all are doing! [Jack] We're spending Luck so that we'll fail! [Sammy] BEING UNLUCKY! I've barely spent any Luck, I'm just NOT A LUCKY GUY

[Henry] Oh, Avedon's here, [GM] There's a gunshot, and he tries to shoot Fowler! [Joey] Um, well, uh, whoops!, rest in peace Fowler! [Sammy] Yeah, that'll sort itself out, let's go! [GM] Moonlight seems to reconsider from telling people to grab you guys, to grabbing Avedon instead. [Joey] Oh! THANKS AVEDON, your sacrifice will, not be thought about in the slightest!!!

[Sammy] Is... weird question, does this room look like it matches the architecture of the rest of the house? [GM] [GM] [GM] ...make a sanity check.

[Sammy] It would be a like, Come on Jack, do you know where you are, shake it off, snap out of it, kind of thing. [GM] Why don't you make a... a.... oh boy, [Sammy] One of my REALLY persuasive social skills?

[GM] This probably just registers to Jack as, Sammy griping about a party, which isn't that strange. [Jack] Yeahhhh, he wants to leave. He always does that. I wanna stay at least a little longer! [GM] That just means it's Jack's job to find them something fun and good to do. [Sammy] Oh boy, [GM] I don't think Jack is being compelled to be aggressive about this necessarily, he just feels like he's Jack at a party, doing the things Jack normally does, and trying to have a good time! [Sammy] Ah, and everyone else is being weird, [GM] Yeah! Everybody's being really weird! You're at this nice party, and now you're in this weird room? The party's back there somewhere! [Jack] I mean not that he's opposed to bein' dragged into side rooms at parties by cute boys, but,

[GM] The table looks like a table that Henry has in his house, actually. [Sammy] Have I ever been in Henry's house? These are questions I didn't expect to need to ask tonight.

[Sammy] Jack, this is weird! You see this is weird, right?! [Jack] Well yeah, it is kinda weird that we're in-- what are we doing here? [Joey] Joey is going to grab Jack's arm, and point to the next door, and go "Party is this way!"

[GM] Peter looks worried... [Sammy] Sammy looks worried too! Well, Sammy looks angry, but in a worried way.

[Joey] Joey is going to scream frustratedly. [Sammy] Is there ink in this room? [GM] There is not. [Jack] Is there a party in this room? [GM] Definitely no, only the party you bring with you.

[Joey] Joey is going to scream again. [Joey] He's also going to kick the door. He might stub his toe. [Sammy] Through all this, Joey is smiling. I just need us all to remember that. [Joey] YES. Also his tail is furiously going. [GM] Bendy is also upset! There is nothing to eat here.

[Joey] Joey is going to try to feed Bendy some ideas, [GM] He doesn't want ideas, he wants food!

[Joey] So.... what happens if you fumble a sanity roll?

[GM] See, here's the silly part. At this point, right? At this point, the best place to do the tasks you want to do, involve either getting the stone out of the room with the safe, or having the staff that Henry is currently holding. [Sammy] So you would arrive, by completely different means, to the same place that we are! [GM] Clearly Joey is inside the safe.

[Jack] Bad and naughty Joey Drews get put in the safe to atone for their sins!

[Henry] Henry is going to channel his inner Joey Drew and round the corner and say "No, sorry about him, we're just here on inspection, we need to check the safe." [Henry] Which is probably a Fast Talk, which I hope it isn't, because my Fast Talk is a 5. [GM] Unless you wanna try to turn that into a persuade somehow? [Henry] I'll do Persuade! [GM] What are you doing to persuade them, rather than just lying? [Henry] *rolls* I failed... I'm gonna push it... [Sammy] *uneasy noises* IF YOU PUSH IT AND IT GOES BAD, IT GOES WORSE [Henry] AH! HAHA! I ROLLED A SIX! [Sammy] THAT'S STILL NOT LESS THAN FIVE! [Henry] WELL IM DOING PERSUADE! [Sammy] That means you have to NOT LIE! [Henry] ....Fuck. [Henry] Okay, uh, there's an emergency, we need the contents of that safe. [Sammy] THATS STILL A LIE??? [Joey] NO actually, THAT'S TRUE! [Henry] It IS an emergency!!

[Sammy] Sammy cannot believe that this is working.

[GM] Bendy does wonder what his plan is for getting out of the safe. This does not seem like a fun party place. [Joey] Um, [Joey] Joey says it's a surprise.

[GM] Henry, the safe does indeed open! And there's a Joey! [GM] Bendy says "Oh wow!" [Henry] Henry tries his best to keep a straight face, like yes! this is exactly what he came here for! [Sammy] (Sammy is NOT keeping a straight face) [Jack] (Straight? In this party?)

[Jack] He's probably saying something like, "What are you doing, he's one of us!" [Jack] And that could go either way. That could mean "No, he's chill, I will persuade you to stop!" Or that could mean, "We are also criminals!"

[GM, as the guards] Then why does he look like the Yellow King's messenger? [Henry] *not missing a beat* We get that a lot.

[GM] Something falls from the sky and lands in front of him. And it's a person! [Joey] Is he alive? [GM] Very much not. [Sammy] How... how Illusion of Living canon-compliant is this Joey...?

[Jack] So... it would probably occur to Jack that this is weird for a party,

[Henry] Joey don't touch it! [Joey] Why not? [Henry] There's runes around it. I don't know if you can touch it. [Joey] Joey's gonna touch it. [Henry] *long-suffering sigh* If you get zapped, I'll tell you I told you so!

[Jack] Jack really wishes we were just back at the party right now, you guys... [Jack] Only bad things have happened. [Jack] Pete's traumatised, Joey's goopy, the Lurker ate all of the snacks,

[Sammy] Can I try to break free from Henry? Sammy's gonna try to run over there. [Henry] At this point, Sam can go, if he wants. [Sammy] Okay, cool. Then Sammy's gonna go and put ink in his mouth! [Henry] Goddammit. I was hoping you were going to check on Joey!

[Joey] You can’t take all of the sanity hits! You have to leave some for other people! [Jack] Says you! You got so many temps!! And an indefinite!!

[GM] Bendy probably is complaining loudly about WHY DID HE WALK THROUGH THE RUNES??? [Joey] Oh! I thought he was going to complain about the party, or lack thereof, [GM] That’s part of not having fun at the party, he’s not into that! [Joey] Well, [GM] This is not a fun party activity!!

[GM] But he doesn’t think it will destroy either of them, if you do it right! [Jack] That’s a nice, way to end that sentence,

[Sammy] Let us hurry! May I take the stone? [Joey] Joey shrugs. [Sammy] Sammy will, uh, attempt to reach inside of... whatever this is, and find the stone. [Henry] Reach INTO your LOCAL boss, and you will find A Friend And Boy,

[Sammy] Is there anything in this room that I can pick up, and then hit him in the head with? [GM] Henry has a stick... uh....there’s a projector.... [Sammy] Can I pick that up? [GM] No, you cannot. [Sammy] It would be REALLY funny if Sammy dropped a projector on someone else’s head. [Sammy] HOW THE TURNTABLES!!!

[GM] ...Can you impale with a rocking horse...???? [Sammy] I don’t want to impale, I want to knock him in the head so he passes out!!! Rest your head, it’s time for bed!!!

[Jack] I don’t think Jack has any plans after this! [Jack] I meant that in the sense that he doesn’t know what he’s doing next, but the way I phrased it, now it just sounds like he’s hitting on Fowler, like, he doesn’t have anything to do after this, are you free? That’s not canon.

[Joey] I don’t know how this will go, [Sammy] Good luck! [Joey] But Joey would like to-- [Sammy] Sammy believes in half of you! [GM] w-which Sammy? wHICH HALF?!

[Jack] I know you said “note.” But my brain at first processed that word as “milk.” [Henry] *laughing* “Did you get my milk, Fowler?” [Jack] He drank the last carton and he didn’t buy more! [Sammy] “I’m going to the store, want me to get anything? *jumps into the lake*”

[GM] Combat Jack! [Jack] *exasperated* He’s not a Combat Boy! Jack is soft and warm, like mashed potatoes!!!

[GM] Norman is wondering to Henry if he oughta be concerned about you all getting what you want out of this. [Henry] .....Maybe.

[strawberrysoup]

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 6

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader

word length: 2.9K

chapters: 6/?

warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. more detailed content warnings are included at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers, click through the read more, CTRL + F “content warnings”.

notes: slightly shorter than my usual, but i needed to get some stuff fixed up. if ya’ll like my stories please consider donating to my ko-fi— a bitch is poor lmao

Steve swept you up in his arms and turned to deposit you on the landing upstairs, evidently trusting the others to keep you contained for a moment. There was an audible scuffle going on in the den, Bucky would be heard growling from outside—snapping at someone who made the mistake of asking how he’d gotten out there so fast? Tony was growling at Peter who looked seconds away from begging for forgiveness.

“You guys made it safe, I’m happy to see you Nat,” Steve drew the redhaired woman into his arms and sighed in relief, but you couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement; honestly you were having trouble thinking, your brain clouded with the sudden onset of absolute and uncontrolled panic.

The moment the black-haired man had been pulled away by the delta currently stomping back up the stairs, clarity had returned to you like a slap in the face. The golden fog that obscured your vision immediately dissipated and just as quickly you’d been overwhelmed with gut wrenching fear. You didn’t actually remember kicking Steve in the face or making a break for the stairs, but evidently you had and you cursed your hindbrain for running towards the stairs—you should’ve jumped straight out the window; you had a better chance at out running Bucky and whoever else was down there than the two alpha primes and their surrounding packmates.

Before you could even take a step towards the still wide-open window, the black-haired man appeared with a green flash and wrapped around you tightly. “Shhh , pet, no. No windows for you, darling, come now—back to your nest.”

In a moment of truly unusual harmony, your consciousness and hindbrain agreed that the bed was the last place you wanted to be. That wasn’t your bed, the omega hissed tearfully, you’d never made a nest—that wasn’t yours. It could barely be called a nest, even. There hadn’t been any careful consideration regarding the placement of the pillows and blankets, there were no articles of clothing or soft items that had been scavenged or stolen to elicit a feeling of safety or comfort. Worst of all was the way it smelled. Obviously, it didn’t reek, the mix of individual scents wasn’t a bad conglomeration, but your hindbrain whined at the unfamiliarity. This wasn’t your pack’s scent.

The cohesion was jarring, and you groaned. Regardless of the reasoning, your hindbrain was aware that you didn’t get to have a pack and that reminder always hurt. It desperately desired one, but an omega’s primary objective was survival.

After all, you in all of your fully conscious state knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you would never have a pack—it wasn’t a matter of wanting or not wanting at this point in your life. You were too old to be regressed into the type of omega that packs wanted, your body too badly reliant on the chemical reactions produced by suppressants after fifteen years to stop taking them. At your age, to be found by a pack meant death.

They would get sick of trying to fix you. You’d die from quitting the suppressants cold turkey. They’d beat you for disobedience until your body gave up. You were nearly thirty and that was ancient for an unbound omega and you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks. Especially an old dog who was bound and determined not to be taught.

“LOKI!” Bucky bellowed as he stomped past Steve and the redhead on the stairs, looking three shades past furious.

The man holding you let go very quickly after that, spinning you away and moving to intercept the furious delta with an equally unpleasant expression. Why couldn’t you have just fucking kept it together upon meeting Bruce—that blood in the water, shark nosed asshole, if you had reigned in your panic there was no way he could’ve scented you through your suppressants. Steve was a different story, but if you’d been quick and calm you probably could’ve made it.

You scanned the room quickly; Bruce was on the bed, checking on Wanda. Bucky and Loki were on the floor fighting, half entangled with Peter and Sam who were doing their best to put their own fight aside to keep the deltas from killing each other. Steve was still halfway down the stairs with the other redhead, talking to her quietly. Tony was—

“Okay, princess, okay,” Tony was wrapped tightly around you from behind, carefully keeping your head braced between his chin and shoulder when you tried to thrash. “This isn’t fair to you, you’re way too fragile for this right now. Put your head here, breathe with me.”

“Please let me go,” you didn’t realize you were crying until you spoke, words coming out in sobs. “I don’t want to die like this, please—”

“You are not going to die, little love,” Thor sounded so sad from where he came to stand in front of you. “I’m not going to bond you, not while you’re so upset. But the results of the tests Bruce ran showed that you are in danger. I cannot allow that and no matter how angry you are with us, we will not let you suffer needlessly.”

“I’m not suffering! I swear, I swear I’m not suffering I’m, I’m happy! I’m happy living my life the way I have been. Please, let me have the choice, I want to be alone, it makes me happy!”

Trying to explain to a literal God why you deserved personal agency was an exhausting business, especially when said God was as condescending as Thor. His indulgent and sad smile was nearly enough to tip you over the edge, but there really wasn’t a point in getting angry—he obviously couldn’t even fathom the concept that what he was doing was wrong. It’s not like you could do anything anyway, you weren’t built for violence but for running away. Every bone in your body vibrated with rage; the injustice was overwhelming.

For fifteen whole years you’d been just fine. You would’ve continued to be just fine, if it weren’t for some super nosed freaks crossing your path. What were the odds of the only people in the world who could scent you from beneath more than a decade’s worth of suppressant use would have a cabin in Quebec that you happened to clean—and run into said people because they happened to show up early; an incredibly unusual situation.

It made you think about Mrs. Hunt. She’d only called to give you a heads up because of the last time, when the homeowner had tried to assault you even while he’d thought that you were a beta . You wondered how long it would take her to realize something was wrong; it was getting late and you’d yet to return her cart despite telling her you’d be there shortly.

The real question would be whether she tried to help or not once she discovered your presentation. She could try to help, try to stick them with omega theft, but they could claim civic duty like Peter had earlier. Besides, that was contingent upon her wanting to help you considering you’d lied to her for so many years.

“You’re so distressed, won’t you let me purr for you?”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare take away—”

“Little love, please—”

“Don’t call me that. You don’t even know me,” you spat, turning to address the room at large. “What kind of fucking superheros are you? Let go of me! Let me go!”

Tony sighed and hefted you up into his arms, one wrapped around your torso while the other hooked under your knees and pinned you carefully across his body. You struggled uselessly against his strong hold; he wasn’t as strong as Thor or Steve, but his bicep was massive next to your head and you could feel his muscles through his clothes as he walked to the bed.

“We can’t, princess,” he murmured into the side of your head as he lowered both of you to the bed, sitting propped against a mass of pillows in the corner. “We’ll never find an unbound omega in your age range again. Plenty of omegas have been offered to us, but they’re all practically children. You’re our last chance—”

“There are plenty! You said plenty! Pick the oldest who wants to be in this fucking shit show and leave me alone!” Everyone tensed when the tone in your voice approached a shriek.

“We’re not taking an omega who’s not even legal to drink—”

“That alpha is like eighteen!” You tried to gesture to Peter, who gaped at you like you’d wounded him, but your arms were still pinned tightly to your sides.

“Peter is twenty-four, actually,” Tony spoke with mirth when Peter jumped onto the bed and crawled until he was pressed against Tony’s side and your back. “And before you ask, Wanda is twenty-six.”

“We’re so lucky to have found you,” the alpha half purred, pressing his nose into the back of your neck. “We’ll make you happy, happier than you are now.”

“It’s gonna be a rough start,” Bruce laid down in the nest a few feet away, welcoming the woman you recognized as the Black Widow into his arms when she slithered into the bed. “We have to balance your hormones, or you will die. You wouldn’t have lasted another year on those suppressants.”

“Death would be a reprieve,” you hissed shortly, freezing when the tone of the room immediately changed.

All attention was suddenly on you, Bruce still making direct eye contact with those sad puppy eyes, “I know that feeling, sweetheart—”

“We will do it another way then,” Thor interrupted, sending Bruce a quieting but loving look. “I said I would not bond you while you are in distress anda I will never break a promise to you. Open your mouth, this will be quick.”

Steve seemed to sigh in response and followed to stand next to the other prime, “I lost my chance. You’ll help her?”

Thor leveled the shorter blond with a careful look before nodding, both showing signs of deference and affection and respect that you did not care for. The rattle of a belt prompted Tony to turn you, setting you carefully between his legs while continuing to hold down your arms with what could appear to be an affectionate bear hug. He even linked his fingers with yours, squeezing gently as you tried to squirm.

“No. No, no no no, that’s disgusting, I won’t—”

“Shhh , I’ll do all the work little love, all you need to do is swallow.”

He was jerking his cock carefully, a flick of his wrist near the head catching your eye. That was a dangerous weapon, the same way you’d come to learn Steve’s was and you had no intention of letting it anywhere near your mouth. You clamped your lips shut, teeth grinding.

“Stubborn,” Peter snorted a laugh and you would’ve snapped at him had his hand not dove between your thighs, fingers gliding through the slick lips of your cunt until he found your clit.

You had to stop yourself from screeching, the head of Thor’s cock directly in front of your face. “Very. Come on now, open up.”

The fingers pinching your nose shut came as a shock, you’d crushed your eyes shut out without realizing it and they snapped open when your face was assaulted. Steve was kneeling on the bed, carefully cutting of your air supply with one hand and stroking your head with the other.

“Come on, precious, you’ve gotta breathe,” he stated softly, smiling when you were forced to pull your lips back to gasp for breath—until he realized your teeth were still locked together. “Really ‘mega?”

The next thing you knew his thumb was shoving against your molars, literally prying your jaw open. There was no way to fight it without hurting yourself, especially once he wedged his thick thumb between your top and bottom teeth. You barely had a second to anticipate the horror before an unnecessarily large cock found it’s way between your lips.

You tried to shriek, your brain finally catching up to the whole series of events, but it was no use. His scent was overwhelming and his dick stretched your lips, your jaw forced completely open. Thor groaned, a triggering noise as he very carefully pressed forward until your mouth was completely full and he was settled against you tongue.

“Suck for me, little love, just a little,” he grunted, just barely working his member between your lips while his huge hand stroked the rest.

It took a surprisingly small amount of time for a massive load of cum to shoot into your mouth. It was thick, and the way that Thor growled immediately made your pupils blow wide like you’d done a line of coke.  

Your body went lax immediately and you swallowed on instinct when a hand gently rubbed your throat. The fuzz in your brain was the result of arousal, a brutal orgasm that rocked your body at the sound in combination with your body’s sheer delight at the taste of alpha cum. Somewhere you realized that was disgusting but the haze in your brain made you more focused on the hand between your thighs rather than the indignity.

“Man, this shit ain’t fair,” Sam complained, panting from the exertion of trying to prevent Loki and Bucky from killing each other. “They get to cuddle and we—Hey!  Quit that, man!”

“All of you stop fighting,” Steve’s alpha order was brutal and effective.

The sounds of scuffling from behind Thor stopped immediately and there were huffs and snarls and low grumbles but the nest started shifting all around you. You were dropped back to lay against Tony’s chest, having inadvertently swallowed the entirety of the god’s massive load.

“She’s so cute,” Wanda cooed from somewhere to your left.

“We’ll need to go over what we’re doing from here,” Steve sighed once everyone had settled, still watching your dazed expression with a small smile. “But let’s just… nest for a bit, okay?”

The word nest triggered something in your half alpha-cum stoned brained and you looked around the den with a displeased expression. It was a terrible nest; all of the pillows and blankets were in weird heaps and the scent was so wrong. You didn’t really want to nest here, your hindbrain grumbled in agreement, but you’d fix the damn thing. You whined and wriggled until Steve gave Tony the go ahead to stop fully restraining you.

The bed was incredibly soft, which was an upside and crawling across it was like sinking your knees into clouds as you collected the soft heaps of blankets and pillows as you went. You wanted everything off so you could start from scratch, brain muddled by the wrongness of the current layout. You wanted to wash the sheets, the pillow cases, the blankets, all of it. The scent wasn’t right.

“Help her.” It was a quiet request from the Black Widow, who’d also started shifting around to remove the items. “She doesn’t like it like this.”

It was easier to get everything pushed away and in neat piles with the packs’ help, everyone immediately moving to help organize the pillows. You only snapped at the blond beta—Hawkeye, your memory supplied— once for putting a soft blanket on the pile with the not soft blankets. He immediately gave an apologetic burr to which your hindbrain purred back instinctually; evidently a good reaction.

“Why does she like Clint? They haven’t even spoken.”

“She doesn’t like him, she snarled at him!”

“She hasn’t purred at anyone else!”

“Shut up, fuckin’ idiot.”

The noise you made was one of discontent and disdain, the arguing deltas immediately quieting. You didn’t argue with the chirping growl that meant displeased omega, not in a real pack where the goal was to keep omegas pleased and docile. Somewhere your brain reminded you that this wasn’t your pack but the alpha hormones filling your blood and confusing you and yet somehow all you could focus on was whining and pushing at pack members to get them out of the way as your rearranged; clicking your teeth grumpily when you were handed a blanket instead of a pillow or vice versa.

You found yourself being corralled back into the corner, where Natasha and Wanda immediately wrapped themselves around you. Thor had found Bruce and settled beside and settled near your feet where you’d built an intricate nest wall of pillows and blankets. Two of the deltas, Tony and Loki seemed to be glaring at each other—even as Tony laid himself completely on top of the other and they both relaxed into comfortable holds.

It was interesting, watching the pack dynamics as they moved between each other. Clint wrapped around Natasha from behind the same way Carol found her way behind Wanda. Peter had weaseled his way into curling against Loki’s side while tossing a leg over the man’s hip, subsequently laying it over the backs of Tony’s thighs. Sam, Bucky and Steve all found their way into a neat grouping on the bed closest to the stairs, piled as close to the subsequent piles of superheros as possible.

There was some sort of pattern beginning to form in the back of your brain but you were still too confused, too sucked into your own omega hindbrain by the overwhelming introduction of alpha hormone to your system. Instead of following the thought through to the end, you found yourself warm and comfortable and full and falling asleep tucked between the groupings of presentations as if it wasn’t totally, 100% against your will.

 content warnings: forced cum eating, chemical manipulation, dead dove: do not eat

[marvelwritings]

Can't tell me there's no point in trying

Summary:  Peter travels back in time, get's a concussion and Tony takes care of him, even though in his mind, Peter has been blipped for three years.

In hindsight, the exact memory of when they started researching how to travel back to the past is lost on him. It’s just that he had been so devastated, after Tony’s death, that his emotions had reached through to the only person that somewhat knew what he was going through. Peter didn’t want to compare Wanda’s situation with his, after all, Wanda was the one that was forced to choose between the love of her life and saving the universe, but the weight of their grief was the same none the less.

Wanda had approached him while he was out on patrol, and though there was not set plan, Peter was willing to try anything to get Tony back. They started of their plan by seeking help from Doctor Strange, and when that hadn’t worked,  Peter had snuck in and stole -borrowed as he preferred to call it- a few books that might have been helpful for their goal. Between going to school, patrolling, putting up a front for his friends and aunt -and as of late Happy-, and searching endlessly for a scrape of hope, Peter had worked himself to the bone. It would all be worth it though, if their plan came to fruition.

It hadn’t worked the first time, nor the second time, and neither did the third. Failed enough times that Peter’s heart sunk into his stomach, and that he carefully tried to convince Wanda to try something else. The spell was eerily straightforward with very little need for ingredients, nothing more then saying two sentences and having a personal item of the person they strived to reach, and if they hadn’t managed to work it out in three attempts, Peter assumed, though the idea rendered him dejected, it would never work.

Until he went out on patrol again that night. One moment he was excitedly talking to Karen, animatedly retelling the story of how he managed to stop a bank robbery, as it the AI hadn’t witnessed it, and the next he tried to shoot out a spiderweb to building so he could swing over, only for the web to hit nothing but air.

‘Ow, wow’, Peter floundered, trying his best to reach something and prevent himself from slamming on the ground -again-, but he failed. He banged into a tree at full speed, colliding head first and tumbling down while hitting every branch possible. That was the first sign that should have tipped Peter off. There were no trees in the middle of Queens. Under normal circumstances, he would have considered that, but the heavy impact is not working well in his favor.

Landing on the ground on his stomach with a hard thud, his body, and specifically his ribs, screamed in agony, and he rips the mask off without considering his predicament. Anyone could walk by and see the face beneath the mask. Still, Peter can’t breath with the way his ribs object, but at least without the mask it’s fresh air he inhales.  

He turns around and struggles to get on his back. His hand instinctively slide over his stomach, protecting the hurting area. Come to think of it, every area on his body hurts. Peter knows the logistics of cracked ribs, and savvies that even with the aid of super healing, it’s not going to repair in a few minutes times.

He inhales as a small as he possibly can, despite knowing he shouldn’t, and braces himself for running back to May’s and his appartement. He can’t stay here, where anyone could walk up to him and attack him while he’s down. He laughs incredible, at least aunt May, and Tony of he was still here, would be proud of him for calling it a day.

When he blinks his eyes open though, he’s met with nothing but grass and green for miles, and a blurry vision that tells him he has a concussion. While trying to sit up, his visions spins like  he’s a part of a rollercoaster, and his stomach turns uncomfortably.

‘Oh no,’ Peter moans, ‘aunt May is gonna kill me.’ It’s the only thing he can say before he has to swallow back bile and decides it’s best to be quiet from now on. He struggles to his feet, stumbling a few times before successfully finding his footing in the grass.

His vision does not clear, but he forces himself to take a few steps in any direction anyway. Wondering if seeing all these trees are because of his concussion, Peter freezes when he hears tiny footsteps approaching the opening his still currently residing in. It’s accompanied by children’s crying, the hairs on his arm standing up at the sound. Perhaps it’s a trap, but Peter has never done well ignoring a child ever since meeting his baby sister.

‘Hello?’ he calls out tentatively, squeezing his eyes shut firmly to clear it, but it doesn’t help.

‘Hi’, an adorable voice answers back to him, a head peeks out from behind a bunch, as if the child is equally as curious about Peter as Peter is about her. He can only notice she does this because blurring colors that inch closer little by little. The girl sniffles, ‘I hurt my foot.’

Peter is out of his depth here. He’s only ever impressed children by swinging them around in the sky, but his body will not allow that right now. Instead he tries to focus on what he would do if Morgan was the one that was hurt. Adopting a tone only Morgan has ever heard from him, Peter crouches down on his knees. His ribs creak in dismay, but he ignores it firmly. Someone needs him right now.

‘Oh that’s not good. Does it hurt a lot?’ Peter himself cannot assess the damage.

‘No I guess not’, the girls splutters, pulling up her foot to show Peter.

‘Okay, that’s great. Do you live for away from here? I bet that if I take you back home, your parents will give you a lollipop because you were so brave.’

‘Oh’, the child cries out in wonder, pain in her foot forgotten completely at the mentions of dessert. Peter can’t help but smirk a little, bribery works on Morgan every time too. ‘I’ll show you, but you have to carry me okay?’

Peter can’t think of a worse activity for his injured body to sustain right now, but he’s not about to let a kid down.

‘It’s a deal, lead the way and hop on up.’ His tone is cheerful, even though he has to bite back pained groans by biting his lip.

The girl shows no hesitation and follows his lead immediately, giggling in delight.

‘So, do you want to play a game on the way over?’

They end up playing I spy with my little eye, which Peter loses every time, and not only because he can’t see straight at the moment. The girl, being clearly very young, is a spitfire, which is good because it means Peter doesn’t have to talk during the trip.

It gets increasingly harder to carry her the longer he has to endure the pain, but he knows that salvation is near when the girl, points to a brown blob in the distance. ‘That’s it, there it is. Put me down, I want to get my lollie now.’

Peter obligates, and watches as she runs without any regard for her painful foot, smiling to himself. He hears the door of the house open, and a male cadence calling out and sounding so joyful he must not have noticed Peter yet. He can only imagine the weird sight that must be, to see a stranger bringing home your daughter, but Peter can’t move away yet. His body has stopped listening to his commands.

‘Daddy, daddy, can I have a lollipop, Peter said I could if I was brave, and I was! He said so himself.’

Peter assumes she points to him, and his smiles weakly, although he’s having trouble even finding the strength to do that. Once he walks a little further, he should rest for a bit, close his eyes for the briefest amount of time. Before it get’s to that point though, Peter hears a glass mug being dropped on the ground. The sounds is piercing in contrast between the quiet forest and the intrusion, but that’s not the weirdest thing.

‘Peter?’ That same cadence exclaims, the voice breaking of the syllable. It’s strange, because for the briefest moment Peter’s mind flashing the name Tony at him, but the man is long gone.

Peter just about handles frowning at the direction, a weird knowingness to the exclamation, like the man somehow knows who Peter is.

‘How do you-?’ The sentence is cut short when a wave of nausea slams into Peter again, and he can’t keep himself upright this time. His knees buckle, his eyes roll into the back of his head, and the ground nearly welcomes him with open arm. Before he can collide with it again however, in such speed Peter can’t phantom the man being fast enough, he instead lands between the mans arms. All the strength has left his body, and Peter can do nothing but let his head roll onto the man’s shoulder.

‘Pepper’, he screams, so shut up it comes across as hoars, pulling Peter even closer to him than thought possible. ‘You’re okay kid, you’re okay. I promise you’ll be okay.’

---

Peter comes too slowly, groggily, as if moving through solaces. The logical part of his brain, of which there is much, screams at him to panic. He doesn’t know where he is, he can only vaguely remember the events leading up to his current situation, and he can’t ensure his safety or anyone else’s furthermore, but the smaller part of his brain soothes him.

Tells him everything is fine and he’s safe. It’s rare that Peter feels that way. Even at home with May in their appartement, there’s a constant need to be alert. Peter snaps awake from every little sound, his body turning rigid from the forceful transition between sleeping and waking up, even if the cause was only a door creaking.

It doesn’t make any sense for Peter to be this tranquillized right now, or any other time for that matter. He groans, pained, fluttering his eyes open to find himself in a dark room with the windows drawn. His eyesight is still blurry, his head is still pounding beneath his skin, and because there’s no acute danger to be detected- his spider senses tell him so, though he hasn’t learned to trust them completely yet- he allows his eyelids to droop closed again.

A warm, calloused hand strikes through his hair softly, while a thumb strikes out the frowning lines that pain flashes put on Peter’s forehead. Peter realizes with a startle that his not alone, and that must mean his Peter tingle has failed him, but can’t force himself to push the hand away. It’s nice to experience a loving touch after so many rough handlings, and the memories of lab days with Tony, car rides with Happy, building Lego with Ned and cuddling with MJ render him immobile. He longs so fiercely to feel safe, to be safe, that he leans into the touch like a cat being petted.

‘It’s okay Pete, just go back to sleep.’ A rough voice rumbles from besides Peter. All the rest he previously had, flies out of the window, as his entire body fill up with adrenaline. That voice belongs to a man that’s long gone, a man that sacrificed himself to save Peter and paid the ultimate price for it. That voice can only originate from a ghost.

Peter practically jumps up, opening his eyes and looking in the direction where the voice came from, but he miscalculated how fast his concussion would go away. He stumbles, faceplanting into the body that held Tony’s voice, and was only held up by the grace of the other man. Again, there were bouts of pain, but not only from his physical ailments.

The fire that Peter imagines to be inside of him, the one that destroys everyone else around him but leaves him, unfortunately intact, burns up from the remnants of his heart. He’s tried very hard to move on from Tony’s death in the past few months, and he had almost convinced himself that he was over it. That would be a flat out lie though, and Peter Parker doesn’t lie. The agony of the situation had just been shoved to the back of his mind, while Peter took on so much so he wouldn’t have to touch upon it, to prod in it. It peeked out every once in a while, when Happy would tell May about his life and an anecdote with Tony would be told, or when a poster with Iron man on it drew his attention, but it’s easier to pretend to be okay then to deal with the truth.

‘Hey Peter, I’m glad to see you too, but don’t get too excited now bud.’ Tony laughs, but the tone with which he says it sounds grief stricken, with the barest hint of hope coating the edges. He lowers Peter back down into the bed, and Peter has to bite back a sob at how comfortable the sheet caresses his skin, and how gentle it is on his wounds.

He shakes his head vehemently, trying to clear it and be able to think logically. He wants so badly that Tony is actually here, but there isn’t any way for that to be true, unless.. Peter gasps, memories piercing through the fog in his head. Unless Wanda managed to do what they set out to do. And that would mean that It’s no weird fever dream. Peter’s hand clench up in Tony’s shirt, pulling him down so Peter can meet him in the middle and hug him. He still can’t see the expression on Tony’s face, but he prepares to be rejected, and can’t find it in himself to care. Even if Tony pushes him away after barely a brief second, at least Peter still did something he had set out to do for months now.

That doesn’t happen. Instead, Tony grabs him even tighter, a gentle hand cupping the back of Peter’s head as he curves his body around him.

‘Tony’, Peter whispers, the first tears starting to track a path on his cheeks. ‘Tony.’ Sobs are building up in the back of his throat, unable to be contained for much longer, and as they escape, Tony doesn’t scold him, or tells Peter to stop, but he starts to rock the both of them.

Peter can’t be sure, but he thinks he feels splatters of Tony’s tears on his shoulders as well.

‘Morgan’, Peter says nonsensical after a while, sobs are still heaving his body, but he’s had experience pulling himself together in need before, and right now he needs to know Morgan is safe.

‘Is she okay?’ he asks Tony, with a clumsy tongue. The crying has made his weak and aching body even more exhausted, the rocks reminding him of babies being cradled and normally he wouldn’t want to be seen as a baby, but he doesn’t care right now. He just want to enjoy being around Tony again.

‘Morgan?’ Tony laughs, sniffling quietly like he’s refusing to let Peter knows his been crying too. ‘She fine, she’s probably playing in the barn again even though Pepper tells her she’s not allowed. She’s a bit of a menace, just like you Pete.’

At that, Peter sobs turn into heaves, his entire body shaking with the force of them. All the grief of the past few months, the guilt that Peter has carried knowing it’s all his fault, is all coming to a head now. It’s his fault that Tony’s dead, it’s his fault Morgan has to grow up without a father, and it’s his fault the world doesn’t have Iron man to protect them anymore. He’s tried to so hard to make it right, but how can he? How can he ever be the person Tony was, when he’s just Peter Parker.

‘Kiddo, please calm down, you’re gonna make yourself sick’, Tony soothes despairingly. He lowers peter again but stays close, his hand going back to striking Peter’s hair. ‘You’re okay, I promise you, I won’t let anything else happen to you.’ Tony is getting chocked up again, but this time he doesn’t try to hide it. ‘Not again.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’, Peter whispers, his voice wrecked by the amount of crying he has done. He wants to talk to Tony, explain what happened, spend time with him and beg for his forgiveness, but Tony shushes him, and he’s asleep before he can argue.

----

The next time Peter struggles to consciousness, he senses their presence; Morgan, Pepper and Tony, and he knows without a sliver of doubt that its them. He shakes with the knowledge. The room he’s in, his room as Pepper had told him upon visiting for the first time, is scattered with spiderman toys, and even a few posters on to wall to complete the image. The sight is ridiculous, but Peter laughs at it all the same. He tries to keep the smile on his face, but melancholy isn’t easily beat.

At the very least his concussion seems to have gone away since waking up a first time, and all that’s left to remind him he took a fall is a vague pounding in his head, and the nausea. It’s not as bad as before, and Peter takes the reprieve with greedy hands.

The hustling and bustling of the family, alive and well, downstairs is crustal clear to Peter’s advanced hearing. It’s strange, being back in the lake house without it seeming so bleak. After they defeated Thanos, and Mister Stark died, Peter’s mind helpfully supplies, he had only been here twice. Pepper tried her best to come back, to give Morgan a home away from the home they owned in the city, but too much had reminded of the husband she was forced to burry, so they moved fairly quickly.

So it unusually to see it the way it was supposed to be. Lived in, with Morgan’s giggling and Pepper’s pretend scolding voice, with mister Stark chuckling quietly to himself, a perfect little family. It’s supposed to emit a warm, honey affection bleeding through every crack, and it’s a shame it isn’t anymore.  

‘Morguna, go play with your toys for a second, I need to talk to your mom about something very important.’ Spying on Tony leaves a bad taste in Peter’s mouth, but he can’t help it. He’s been so devoid of any scraps connecting him to Mister Stark, that he’s willing to forgo manners.

‘Is it a surprise?’ Morgan asks, mirth in her voice. She’s so much younger than Peter ever remembers her being, because he’d never got to witness her at that age. His heart clenches, the hurt still so fresh.

‘You know what little miss, as a matter of fact it is, so you better scoot, or we might not be able to get in time.’

Morgan squeals in delight, and Peter hears her little footsteps sprinting outside. Peter smiles, he knew Tony would be a good dad someday. The downstairs is quiet for longer than normal, and Peter suddenly turns worried that Pepper and Tony caught him.

Then, Pepper speaks up again. ‘You can’t keep spoiling her you know. She’ll turn into a monester by the time she hits fourteen.’

‘She’s fine,’ Tony placates. Peter visualizes Tony pressing a kiss to the top of Pepper’s head, the only weakness the woman has, which he takes great advantages of. The issue seems to be settled, the playful disagreement put to rest.

Peter ponders over what to do next. He’s so extremely awkward, and despite hoping for an opportunity like this one, he has no idea what to say to Tony.

‘Oh Tony, is it really him?’ Peter freezes, so caught of guard by the heartache in Pepper’s words. She sounds both optimistic and demoralized, as though she has had her hopes up for so long she can’t risk it again.

‘It is Pep. I know it is, I saw it in his eyes.’

‘But how?’ Pepper questions extensively. ‘He was blipped, just like so many people. None of the others have come back.’

‘I don’t have all the answers Pepper, God knows I wish I had. All I know is that my kids back, do I need to question why?’

Hearing, outright hearing mister Stark say Peter is his kid, has Peter tearing up, something sharp sticking at his ribs and feeble heart. It hurts just as much as he longs to overhear it again.

‘He might be able to bring the others back. Tony, I get why you don’t want to hear this, but he could be the key to helping millions.’

‘He has to be nothing but healthy alright? Maybe he can help, maybe he can’t, but all I’m sure of is that I’m never,’ Tony’s voice sinks lower and even more venomous then before,’ putting him in the line of fire again.’

I’m okay, Peter thinks, needing to scream it to Mister Stark’s face that he didn’t do anything. It wasn’t up to anyone, just like it wasn’t up to anyone to save Tony either.

‘I’m sorry’, Tony utters, sounding defeated and, honestly, old. ‘I’m sorry, but I just got him back, and I can’t, I can’t lose him again.’

‘It seems like the first step in ensuring it never does it to go up and talk to him. Go to him Tony, say what you couldn’t say three years ago. And’, Pepper swallows thickly. ‘Tell him we all love him.’

Peter’s grateful he won’t be forced to initiate the first move by walking downstairs.

‘Underroos, I’m coming up so you better not be sleeping anymore.’ The flawless transition between vulnerable and slipping into his role a cool role model is staggering, but it doesn’t surprise Peter in the slightest anymore. He’s spend too much time with Tony for that to be the case.

He doesn’t know what to do with his body, how he’s supposed to respond to seeing Tony in person again? Part of him wants to lung at his mentor, while the other part hisses at him to act like a normal human being. Peter ends up sitting down on the bed, standing in front of  the door, hiding behind the closet and finally back to bed in the span of however long it takes Tony to reach the room.

By that point, Peter is too distracted by the glimmer of his past to overthink the encounter. He remembers the lego set as if it just happened. It was the first bout of Peter’s interests that Tony listened to wholeheartedly. After the battle with Thanos, it had slipped Peter’s mind completely. He had no idea Mister Stark had this thing in his home.

‘I asked May if I could take it with me, when I moved out here’, Tony says with melancholy, taking a seat by Peter on the bed, but leaving a considerable distance. He’s not looking at the lego set at all, instead dividing his full attention on Peter. Swiftly his eyes roam Peters face and posture, sucking in all the little details Tony hadn’t been able to discern about him after a while.

‘There’s so many of that stuff in her apartment, but this one was the most fun to put together, because it’s the death star you know? It has all this detail and it took forever to make but that’s all good, cause there’s so much detail and-’

‘Pete’, Tony sounds chocked up, like the façade he was forcing himself to wear is already slipping. Peter hasn’t even said anything yet. ‘God kid, where the hell di you come from? I’ve tried everything but I-‘, he takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. Peter has only witnessed mister Stark crying once, so it’s a shock that it occurs again. ‘I didn’t know how.’

‘Mister Stark-’, Peter stops, cutting his own sentence off. Is he even supposed to say anything? Is he supposed to blab the secrets of the future. His Spidey scenes are distinctively ordering him not too, but Peter itches to all the same. ‘I don’t think I’m supposed to say,’ he settles on, ‘with the butterfly effect and all.’

‘The butterfly effect? Kid what in the world are you talking about?’

‘You know, like in the movie, where he can travel back in the past but it always alters things for the worst?’

‘Yeah, I’ve seen the movie’, Tony asserts, almost deadpans. ‘What does that have to do with anything?’

‘Just- just please trust me Mister Stark’, Peter pleads, hands beginning to tremble with the need to reach out for reassurance. The memories of the one complete hug Tony had ever given him sparking a longing in him.  ‘Do you trust me?’

‘Of course’, Mister Stark firmly agrees.

‘Then don’t ask me how,’ even to his own ears the desperation is tangible, ‘please.’

Tony clasps his hand on Peters shoulder, a ground weight to which Peters never endings zing in relief. Before he can stop himself, he’s crumpled in, his head on Tony’s shoulder while his hands twist in the back of mister Stark’s shirt. The reciprocation is immediate.

‘I’ve missed you’, He chokes out, feeling rather annoyed at himself that all he seems to be doing is crying. His time here is limited, he can sense it, the hunch that time is of the essence and he doesn’t posses much of it, and he refuses to waste it on more tears.

‘Me too, Pete, more than you know.’

‘I think I have a pretty good clue’, Peter laughs bitterly, it’s not the same really. He’s only been missing mister Stark for a few months, the man in front of him has been missing him for three and will need to miss him for two more years. The buzzing in the back of his head grows louder. Another stroke of Parker luck, he spend most of the time he had with mister Stark unconscious.

Whatever, he can’t change it now, but he has a few more things to say before he needs to leave.

‘Tony’, he begins, using Mister Starks first name to ensure he understands how important this is. He pulls away, just enough to be able to look Tony directly in the eyes, but what he sees there is nothing short of panic. His hand tighten, softly guiding him back but Peter resists.

‘Please don’t tell me you have to go again.’ It seems that despite Peter intent, Tony savvies more than he’d like. Peter smiles bitter.

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘What?’

‘What happened on Titan, when he blipped all of us, me, that’s not on you mister Stark.’ Peter repeats patiently, watching as Tony’s face hardens.

‘Peter-‘

‘It’s not. You couldn’t have protected me any more then you did. I’m sorry it turns out the way it did, but I need you to know it’s not on you.’

‘I should have done more.’ Tony insist, raising his voice a few octaves. Downstairs, Morgan asks Pepper why her dad is so close to yelling. ‘I should’ve, you were my kid Peter, are my kid, and I failed.’

‘You didn’t fail’, Peter yells back just as loudly, he stands up from the bed, subconsciously trying to appear taller so he has more say in the situation. ‘Because if you already failed then what did I do? I’m still here and you-‘, he cuts himself off once again, almost spilling all the secrets.

Tony approach him like he’s an animal that needs to be handled with care. ‘I don’t know what you’re on about, but I’m a grown man Pete, I can take care of myself.’

‘But I-‘

‘Ah, ah, ah, not talking back, I’m the adult here. Zip it kid. How about this, we’re both not to blame alright?’

Peter isn’t convinced Tony believes that, but it’s still a weight of his shoulders to have said it to Mister Stark, maybe, in the future, when he pins the blame on himself once more, he’ll think about this moment. He nods.

‘I have to go now Mister Stark’, The words tumble out of his mouth before he realizes that it’s the truth. Whatever is going to happen next won’t wait much longer.

Peter walks over to the window and opens it, ready to swing out after saying goodbye. He can’t go and see Pepper and Morgan, it’ll upset them as much as it’ll upset him. He’ll see them back in his time.

‘Wait,’ Tony screams, as I Peter was going to leave without a goodbye. The embrace he pulls Peter in is heavier this time, loaded with the upcoming goodbye’s. It’s still nice though, and Peter enjoys every second of it. Tony presses a kiss to Peter’s temple then holds it there when he asks; ‘How long do I have to wait before I see you again.’

Peter swallows painfully and considers lying to make Tony feel better but, ‘two years’, he eventually confesses, figuring that he can at least give that little piece of information.

Mister Stark simply hums, but Peter notices his tears nonetheless. With one last, solid squeeze, Peter wiggles out of the embrace and tries to stall his own tears. It would hurts less if he could go back to find Mister Stark there, if only he had a way to warm Tony.

He’s pretty sure he can’t go into too much detail but; ‘Mister Stark, when it happens, please hold on. I can’t lose you either.’

‘Okay Pete,’ Tony assures, his hands shaking with the urge to drag his kid back, safe in his arms. ‘After this is all over, we’re going to hold a movie night okay? With pizza.’

‘And Star Wars?’ Peter asks hopefully. Mister Stark laughs, his eyes wet. The smile is all Peter demands before he jumps out the window, not waiting for an answer. He prays that he’s done enough without messing anything up. He hopes.

---

When Peter makes it back to his own time, his phone pings with a message.

It reads; ‘Hey kid, still up for a movie night?’ send by Tony Stark.

[pla-teau]

WHATTHEFUCK WANDAVISION EPISODE 5

SPOILERS AHEAD, YOU’VE BEEN WARNED

GIFS AREN’T MINE

EPISODE 4 THOUGHTS

opening title | right off the bat, the paintbrush is surrounded by wanda’s powers. this adds to the assumption that wanda is the mastermind behind all that is happening with westview. could mean nothing but i just find that little detail interesting. also, in the recap, in the quick moment in episode 3, we see another variation of the scene when vision asks wanda where geraldine went. she says “she’s gone. she didn’t belong here.” i feel like in recaps to come, we’ll see slight variations of past scenes to indicate that the reality in westview is breaking or just to show the actual words exchanged during the altered scene. wanda is the one broadcasting and chooses what audiences can and cannot see so maybe this is the original cut of the scene that we nor SWORD saw in the broadcast.

agnes | first off, agnes breaks character for a second like an actress who screws up and so everyone has to do a retake. when she says to wanda that she wants her to hold the kids, wanda is even confused for a second. she looks to her like she’s the one in charge. i think she did this on purpose since vision went off script as well in not letting agnes hold the boys. even though there’s footage in the 90s episode that she’s also being controlled by wanda when vision pulls her out of the trance, i still think she’s working with the main bad guy to hurt wanda. she doesn’t seem to react when the boys age up twice in front of her, always making a witty and funny comment.

wanda’s a terrorist | the way hayward quickly labeled wanda as a terrorist makes me think that there’s ulterior motives with this dude. didn’t want to believe it but marvel has put me in a habit of assuming guys in suits have sinister agendas. while jimmy woo gives a brief rundown of wanda’s life, hayward is quick to focus on the negative aspect because she’s a criminal with the sokovia accords still in place. he seems to be the only one driving this idea forward just because he’s the acting director of SWORD. he even put a damn missile on the retro drone monica controlled to get inside the anomaly. as acting director, he would know that a missile is useless against an avenger with wanda’s powers. i believe that he knew that missile wouldn’t do anything to wanda and the sole purpose was to antagonize her to continue painting her as the sole mastermind behind westview. i think he’s just trying to shift the blame from SWORD to wanda now that she possesses the body that can be used to create more weapons etc. etc.

vision’s body | so that scene we saw in the sneak peek was indeed footage of wanda stealing vision’s body and that SWORD was in possession of it. with monica saying in the previous episode that SWORD doesn’t do creation and hayward saying they’re focusing on robotics etc., it makes SWORD also v hypocritical because the brief footage we see of him - he’s dismembered. it doesn’t take much to assume that SWORD was most likely using vision’s body towards their robotics, nanotech and AI projects.

lagos commercial | clearly this is in reference to wanda’s accidental killing of innocent lives after trying to protect steve from crossbones in civil war. the saying “for when you make a mess you didn’t mean to” at the end makes me disagree more on haydick hayward’s assumption that she’s a terrorist. i like how they used this as a paper towel commercial as after lagos, the sokovia accords were written. for me, the paper towel represents the actual accords since they’re drafted on paper, right? how do we clean up any mess in the real world? with laws and regulations being written and enforced aka a piece of paper.

norm’s moment of consciousness | norm is granted a moment of consciousness by vision and is quickly hysterical. his statements about how vision has to stop and get her out of his head has me split. on one hand, he could be talking about wanda since monica said the same thing in her recounting of the events in the anomaly. but i also think it’s agnes or someone else who’s just disguising themselves as wanda (her emotions, grief, etc) to get everyone to see wanda as the bad guy (again).

SWORD computer message | how was the westview reality able to see this message by SWORD? it didn’t have much detail and only the basic rundown of what was going on but it’s interesting to see that message be ‘intercepted’ by the hex. we didn’t see from the outside that they were trying to communicate with wanda or someone within the town. it was also weird how the whole staff read it together at once - very creepy and raises more questions than answers.

“you can fix the dead” | tommy’s comment to wanda when sparky passes away. clearly the only dead one is vision in wanda’s world even though he appears very much alive in westview. i don’t think even wanda knows the true extent of her powers if she is the main perpetrator in all of this. i’ve also seen people mention that maybe the death of sparky is meant to push wanda to unlock that power if she has the ability to bring back the dead.

wanda and vision arguing | from the get go, we’re seeing vision going off script because he’s piecing things together. he notices how agnes always comes in to save the day or with something the couple needs. i like that we’re seeing the pair fight because they haven’t been on the same page arguably since episode 3 which was the last time we saw wanda edit an episode.

“you’ve never talked to me like this before” | wanda to vision. as i’ve said before, the show is really making vision seem more of the human one of the couple even being supposedly dead. what wanda says is true, we’ve never seen vision so much as raise his voice at wanda. in the past, before westview, vision always tread lightly around wanda and thought about how to word news of something she may not react well to. he’s always been calculating and thoughtful in his approach to wanda. even when she shoved him down however deep into the ground to leave the avengers facility in civil war, vision didn’t yell at her when they fought. it’s been nothing but love that vision has communicated to wanda. now with his clear frustration of the situation and evidence, it’s understandable that he’s yelling at her. it’s human to assume and jump to the worst conclusion about someone. he’s becoming more human in being upset and frustrated with someone he cares for that looks like the bad guy and victimizer of a whole town and seemingly controlling him and making decisions for him. i really hope he doesn’t get killed off at the end because i’m truly loving vision’s growth and range throughout the series.

“i can’t remember my life before westview” | this speaks to vision’s physical state. i think he’s not fully dead but because he doesn’t have the mind stone. every iteration we’ve seen of vision in the mcu has been with the stone since 2015. he doesn’t remember his creation or his death in 2018. the last 8 years are a blank for vision and understandably so, he’s upset and frustrated at the situation and at wanda. maybe it’s because he’s in the hex and maybe once outside, he’ll remember or somehow recount what’s happened? again, i hope he doesn’t just die once he gets out of the hex.

pietro’s ‘recast’ | the most shocking part of this episode that made me choke on my water and feel 50 different emotions in a matter of seconds. anyways, i think wanda damn well knows that it isn’t the brother she lost. i think she pieces it together that he is pietro but just not her world’s pietro like she feels some sort of connection to this pietro (if that makes any sense)? love that this brings in the multiverse into the mcu. i am still was holding my breath for aaron taylor-johnson but seeing evan peters’ peter was a fun surprise. in rewatching, the episode sets this surprise cameo up with billy and tommy asking her about pietro and this reoccurring theme that ‘family is forever’. i think that either wanda doesn’t realize her powers and her life in westview is bringing in people from other universes or that whoever is behind all of this is giving wanda one more reason to stay in westview since vision is starting to go off script and can’t be controlled by wanda anymore.

long lost bro | the fact he says this makes me curious as to whether this truly is peter from the x-men universe or if whoever is orchestrating this is just using peter’s body to manipulate wanda and play along in her ‘show’. if it’s truly peter that’s been plucked from the x-men universe, maybe he’s given this knowledge or whoever is controlling him is planting that information in his brain so he can say that he’s wanda’s long lost brother which he technically is. there’s also been people pointing out that in the mirror behind wanda looks distorted when you look, you would be able to see peter and wanda’s in the reflection. it looks unreal and this could be a key to seeing the reality of what’s happening in westview, maybe hopefully this’ll be a key to opening wanda’s eyes that something clearly isn’t right.

[princessfbi]

Ok I have got to know what happened with Oliver's character on that one show that makes you rage so hard every time you see him.

WELL NONNIE I'LL TELL YOU!

This is a warning for spoilers if anyone wants to watch this show because my rage cannot be contained.

OK SO...

This show is called Into the Badlands and Oliver's character is named Ryder. Basically the premise of this world is that it's kind of post apocalyptic/alternative universe where humanity got so caught up in trying to one up each other that it sort of imploded and now you have this society where either you're super wealthy (the Barrons), super poor (Cogs and Nomads), or somehow a ninja (The Clippers and whatever the hell MK was supposed to be). ANYWAYS....

Ryder is the son of Barron Quinn. Now the surviving land is either divided into like factions run by Barrons (who control a majority of major trade) or there's these lawless lands that are run dredges of society. You either become a Barron by killing another Barron (which is what Quinn did) or you are an heir apparent. Ryder is more an heir presumptive because Quinn won't outright name him his heir even though everyone just assumes it.

This is because Quinn is batshit crazy and thinks he can just live forever through sheer stubbornness and will alone. This is especially hard to do because he has a massive brain tumor that's dwindling down what little bit of sanity he has leading him to make questionable choices such as killing the only doctor they have in the lands who would've been useful pretty much for the rest of the series but go off Quinn. Ryder has a lot of resentment towards his father, which I will get into in a minute, and at the same time has gone out of his way to prove to Quinn that he's a worthy heir. Except Quinn keeps comparing Ryder to his second and regent, Sunny, and he's just all around a shitty person in general.

NOW HERE'S THE AMAZING BACKSTORY WITH RYDER:

So, when Ryder was a child, he was kidnapped by these nomads who were trying to blackmail Quinn. Ryder's mother begged Quinn to pay the ransom and save Ryder. Quinn... refused. So the nomads tortured Ryder and (Gross warning) like cut off part of his toes and disfigured his foot in the hopes of crippling him and scaring Quinn into giving to their demands.

Quinn, again, refused.

Eventually Quinn's regent at the time, Waldo, defies Quinn's orders and goes to rescue Ryder from these nomads. Waldo defying Quinn is a big deal because he's a clipper which is basically a soldier (often brought in from the slave faction called Cogs) and they take their oaths to their Barrons very seriously. Barrons trust no one but their regents because again you can become a Barron by killing them. But Waldo always had a soft spot for Ryder.

SO Ryder is saved and eventually nursed back to health but he always has a bit of a tragedy cloud hanging around him because from what we were told Ryder was a very sweet, bright child before he was kidnapped and was brought back as "a broken bird" and he's been doing everything he can to get rid of the broken bird image ever since.

Quinn resented Ryder for making him look weak and Ryder resented Quinn for... Well being a heartless dick.

But here's the crazy part... They both, in their own way, still kind of loved each other.

Now I won't bore you with my rant about how the best antagonists are often the tragic figures who have fallen from grace (Peter Hale, Draco Malfoy, Loki to name a few) BUT I will say Ryder had the PERFECT foundation of showing that fall. He was an asshole and hard and spoiled and super privilege but also soft and still a little broken. There's a whole other narrative involved too with his childhood love and how his dad planned on marrying her but we won't get into that.

ANYWAYS Ryder still had this desperate need to prove to his dad that he was a worthy heir but in his attempts to prove himself (and his dad's fall into madness) his dad started seeing him as competition. Competition and another objects (like Quinn saw with most other characters but especially Sunny). But Quinn has this weird kind of pride when it comes to things that he considers his and an attack on his property is an attack on him. There's a character named the Widow who lured Ryder out and tried to kill him slowly and personally as well as Sunny as an attack on Quinn and he went bananas (sorta).

Ryder was fine eventually but he realized that trying to prove himself to his dad was never going to work so he decides to try the other option: which is killing his dad. Partially because if he doesn't, Ryder is smart enough to know that Quinn's going to get him killed, but also because Quinn's descent into madness is spiraling faster and faster and Ryder wants to protect the legacy. Nothing to inherit if his dad burns the whole thing to the ground!

Long story short, Sunny turns on Quinn and stabs him and everyone thinks Quinn is dead and Ryder takes credit for it therefore succeeding his dad by becoming not only Barron of his father's lands but some other Barron that got murdered by another subplot that was pointless.

Now Ryder is determined to bring peace to the lands (not out of some noble obligation but because he just wants people to chill the fuck out). And for the most part... he's doing okay.

BUT THEN PLOT TWIST HIS DAD IS ALIVE AND CRAZIER THAN EVER.

Basically his dad storms Ryder's house, chases him down in the garden, and they fight. But Ryder's foot that was crippled when he was a child trips him up and the fight gets even messier. Ryder's sword breaks and Quinn points the sword to his own chest and tells Ryder to finish him.

Ryder hesitates and so Quinn takes the sword and stabs Ryder. You know like a rational father would do.

Quinn then asks Ryder why he hesitated and Ryder whispers "because you're my father" before he dies in Quinn's arms. Quinn is... horrified because he realizes that with the death of Ryder is the death of the last parts of his own humanity. He mourns Ryder but also like... takes no responsibility for killing him but neither did Ryder so he can't process it. Later on he's haunted by Ryder but again the man has a giant grapefruit sized tumor in his brain so it's all very reverse Hamlet if you will.

SO LOOK AT ALL THIS POTENTIAL!

THE REASON I RAGE:

Is because Ryder was set up to fail from the beginning. Which is great!....... If that had actually happened. The show worked so hard to tell us that Ryder was a failure and a coward but if you look at it from a story perspective... Ryder was the opposite of a failure. Every time someone told him he couldn't do something, he proved them wrong. Again and again and again. But that was never good enough for anyone. So that vicious cycle would've been amazing to see!

But instead of exploring any of that, we had to watch a storyline that was frankly ridiculous from the beginning that took up way more time than it should. There's a character named MK, who was supposed to be inspired by the myth The Monkey King, but if you don't know that story then you never would've figured that out. Hell, I knew the story and didn't figure it out until I had to google his name because I kept forgetting it. In comparison to everything else happening in the show, this magical mythical storyline just didn't fit and I'm not kidding when I say I watched a season and a half of this show and forgot about MK every time.

Now if you noticed my icon is Buck in a Box. That's an inside joke I have with a friend about this fucking show. The first scene starts off with Sunny stumbling onto a group of Nomads who go absolutely feral about this massive box they don't want him to look inside. Turns out MK was in this box for reasons that were too weak for me to even remember but again MK was entirely forgettable. My friend and I kept talking about how it would've been better if Ryder had been in the box because the Ryder and Sunny rivalry had so much unexplored potential that would've been incredible if we started from the very beginning instead of just being told over and over again that Ryder hates being compared to Sunny.

Sunny is the main character and Quinn, unlike with Ryder, was incredibly proud to have Sunny "in his possession" and Ryder hated him for it.

But did we get to explore that? NO! Did we get to explore the parallels of Sunny and Ryder chafing at being considered possessions by Quinn? NO! Did we get to explore the trauma Ryder was working so hard to shake off? NO!

Instead the show spent so much energy victim blaming Ryder essentially for being the son of a Villain and his Nonsensical Ambitious Mother who had the misfortune of being kidnapped by bandits as a child while telling the audience that Ryder was never going to succeed. That Ryder had no honor and was a coward and weak.

They spent way more time trying to tell us that we should hate Ryder and that he was a bad guy but didn't do ANY of the work to show the fall from grace to prove that. Ryder remained a tragic figure that didn't fall from grace but was rather pushed off by lazy writing because they wanted to focus again on this magical ninja boy with a penchant for getting in the way and ruining everything.

I rage because Antagonist and Villain are not the same thing. Ryder had the potential of becoming a villain and his death by the hands of his father would've cycled him back into the role of a tragic figure. But instead... it was just wasted.

THAT is why I rage. You had the material right there and yet you spent so long telling us that we, the audience, don't like Ryder instead of showing us anything that would make us not like him (besides the whiny white boy thing).

Instead I found myself rooting for Ryder. Like could you imagine if Ryder and Sunny went against Quinn together instead of having the weakest rivalry known to man? Could you imagine Ryder's fall from grace of wanting peace in the lands as it turned to greed? Could you imagine Sunny becoming actual competition for Ryder instead of being manipulated to do so?

WE GOT NONE OF IT.

THIS is why I rage.

[jadoue1999]

Wanda and the life she deserved (she’ll made sure of it) Chapter 7

Summary: After unknowingly saving Wanda from Agnes’ clutches, the Maximoff twins take walk.

Previous parts: Chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10, chapter 11, epilogue

Chapter 7: The circus

They continued walking for awhile, talking about their childhood. Wanda was aware that many memories coming from her brother were wrong, but she ignored it. It was nice talking to him alone. They had settled on finding Vision, she was certain he was around Ellis Avenue, his last known location. Wanting to make the moment last longer, Wanda requested that they didn’t use magic, or superspeed. Pietro had originally agreed, but his fidgeting was steadily increasing with each step they took. She spotted a circus where the abandoned Avenue once was. Unsure about what they might encounter, she turned to her twin. “I can go get Vision on my own, go help Agnes. I’m sure she’ll have enough stuff to do that you won’t even see the time pass.”

“You sure, sis? I can wait.” Pietro might have believed his words, but Wanda could see how much he wanted to run and move. She assured him she’d be fine, and he was gone in the blink of an eye.

Wanda looked up at the circus banner, finding irony in the state of the soldiers. Them, who wanted to understand the situation so badly, were now in it. How’s that for firsthand experience? She walked through the various performers, they were filling typical roles any circus would have clowns, gymnast, they even had a strong man and a psychic.

“Hello!” Greeted a man dress in a blue leotard, he was holding his nose that was obviously broken. “Are you here for any specific performance?”

She ignored the man’s injury, knowing S.W.O.R.D, he probably deserved it anyway. She looked around at the various entertainment, they were all pretty straightforward. Her eyes landed on one specific tent, the psychic. She decided to amuse herself and walked over, the board next to the tent read: Charles the Xtraordinary.

Coming in, it wasn’t all that impressive, there was a crystal ball at the center of the table and various cushions were laid on the ground. A bald man, probably in his forties, was seated on one side of the table.

“Welcome,” he said, opening his eyes to greet his guest. “I am Charles, I suppose you’re here to know your fortune?”

“Shouldn’t you know that already?” Joked Wanda with a smirk.

The man returned her smile, “yes, I suppose so.” He motioned her to take a seat. ”Shall we begin?” As the man put his hands over the ball, it began to glow. Closing his eyes, the man hummed pensively, “I see pain, a lot of pain,” he sighed. “Oh, I’m sorry Wanda, so much loss.”

She froze in shock, she had met many psychics in her lifetime, but a circus charlatan certainly couldn’t be the real deal, right? But then again, how could he know her name, and what she lived through?

The man continued, “I see a great battle, one that was unfortunately lost. But then everything was made right,” he frowned, “but not for you. You were still alone.” Her senses were on high alert, her magic was pushing for a rewind, but she had to know more. She needed to know how he could achieve this. “I see... a breaking point, and great suffering. Oh Wanda... what have you done?”

Wanda couldn’t take it anymore, she had to know who he was. What kind of S.W.O.R.D. Agent was he? She tentatively lifted a hand to his temple and let her magic do the work. The man’s eyes opened, and he gasped as he was released from her spell. He looked around him, confused at his surroundings before gripping his head in pain. He looked at her, seemingly to thank her for releasing him before he froze. “Wanda Maximoff! What an honor to meet you!” Charles went to shake her hand, but she backed off before he could reach her. Although slightly taken aback from her movement, the psychic continued. “We have a slight misunderstanding here, your brother, Pietro as you call him, he’s not your brother, not really.” Charles paused as he tried to take in her reaction, but Wanda was unreadable. “You see, a team composed of myself and a couple of others, including his father, are here to bring him back. We crossed universes to get here, it took weeks to find the right calculations. Thanks to your broadcast, we had a good grounding point. The military base kept us updated about Peter. We were brought in as you expanded the Hex, even our member with teleportation powers couldn’t escape. I’m certain it wasn’t your intention to trap us, or Peter, but you have to let us go. We’re not from your universe, we don’t belong here, we- “

“No,” interrupted Wanda, startling the man. He certainly hadn’t expected that reaction. “This is my home, I have my husband, my children and my brother. I will not let you take them away.”

“Ms. Maximoff, you have to come to reason, you cannot keep up this lie forever. What you’re doing is wrong, putting an entire town under mind control- “

“Is better than putting the entire Earth under it,” completed Wanda. Her accent was out once again, rage oozing off her body as she stared at the man. She could feel his stare, and something else, it was nudging at her brain. A telepath, Wanda realized. She quickly shielded her mind and her magic acted without her realizing. In a move that could challenge her brother’s speed, she put the spell back on the man. Eager to finish this awful conversation and go home. She hadn’t found Vision, why had she even stayed? The consequences tied to the man’s words quickly clicked, Peter’s team was here, here for him. That could only mean that his father wasn’t far. If he was anything like her brother had described, she would be in trouble.

As she ran out of the tent, she looked around with more attention. In her frantic state, everything seemed so overwhelming, yet no one took notice of her panic. She couldn’t see much that was out of the ordinary, so she assumed that most clowns were probably soldiers.

‘That leave the specific role to...’ Wanda didn’t finish that thought as her eyes stopped on another attraction: Nightcrawler and his disappearing act. The psychic had mentioned a team, with one of their members not being able to teleport away in time. The irony of the name had to have meaning. Suddenly she stopped in her track. No, no, no, please. I’m not ready! She ran over to the banner, not wanting to believe the writing on it. There, written on bold red letters, was the confirmation that her little world couldn’t continue much longer.

 Magneto, the man of steel.

 Wanda supposed it was ironic that the man controlling metal was nicknamed like that, but then again, her magic had a twisted sense of humor. She quickly left the circus, appearance be damned; she used her magic to reach her house faster. Unsurprisingly, it was empty. Vision was apparently still mad at her, she wished she could make it better. Wanda made a mental note to sit down with him and apologize, he deserved to know the truth. Though right now, she was feeling better. She closed her front door, heading for Agnes’ house; she had missed her children. She ringed the doorbell, she could see movement inside and seconds later, her neighbor opened the door.

“Hi Wanda! Feeling better?”

“Yes, can I come in?”

Agnes opened the door wider to let her in, Wanda felt something was amiss, but she tossed her worry aside as her neighbor started offering drink options. She settled for a tea and sat at the table.

After a few moments, she noticed the eerie silence of the house, save from the television. There were no arguments about who could do something better than the other or even a reaction to whatever show the boys would be watching. There was also no sign of Pietro, no sign of anything being repaired either.

“Where are the twins?” Wanda asked, “and Pietro?”

Agnes paused the making of her tea, wiping her hands on a dish towel, and turned to her. “Oh, your brother is fixing a leaky pipe in the basement, I tried to tell the kids to leave him be, but they wanted to be with their uncle, so I let them go with him.”

That makes sense. Wanda wasn’t sure if her mind was being sarcastic or not. She opened the basement door, calling her children. After no answer came, she walked down the stairs, ignoring how creepy the basement slowly became after each step. Her instincts were screaming at her to run away, but she had to get to her boys. After calling their names once again and getting no answers, true bone chilling fear settled in her body. As she turned a corner next to a glowing door, she had only one thought. Please be alright.

She arrived in a bigger room, a lair? She walked around trying to make sense of the place. Wanda passed a cabinet containing various bones when she felt drawn to her right. A black book radiating orange energy was on the table. The gears in her head finally clicked. This is a dungeon, probably the very same dungeon Peter talked about. Get out, get out, get out-

“Wanda, Wanda,” Agnes’ voice resonated through the room. “You didn’t think you were the only magical girl in town, did you?” With a flick of her fingers, a far away door closed by itself. She resumed petting her rabbit, “the name’s Agatha Harkness, lovely to finally meet you dear.”

_____________________________________________________

Notes: The circus is in town! And it brought in unexpected visitors...

[trashcreatyre]

I'm gonna explain one of my TMA playlists bc I've been wanting to do that for several months, and how else am I supposed to procrastinate my animatic project at one in the morning?

(here's the link to the playlist bc I think its pretty slappin')

General:

Body Terror Song By AJJ-

I know that it could technically be a flesh song, but I feel like its a bit more vague than that? if that makes sense?

The Afternoon By Lemon Demon-

there's gonna be a lot of Lemon Demon songs in this lol- This one is also pretty vague, but for some reason it kinda reminds me of Michael specifically? I don't 100% know how to describe it.

thrifted youth By dalynn-

Most of the descriptions/reasonings in the general section are pretty simplistic and vague huh? I guess it just kinda fits the vibe? I might be saying that for a lot of the general ones-

Aurora Borealis By Lemon Demon-

this one reminds me of the season five, kinda feels like a jmart song. (also you'll probably notice that there's not much in the ship theme in this playlist. I like to keep my ship playlists separate from my more general ones, don't know why.)

Under My Skin By Jukebox The Ghost-

just kinda fits the vibe y'know? other than that I don't really know.

Turn the Lights Off By Tally Hall-

i can't actually remember why I put this one specifically- that's a bit unfortunate-

When He Died By Lemon Demon-

This one mostly just fits the vibe, makes me think about the really old Victorian era statements.

Ancient Aliens By Lemon Demon-

again, fits the vibe.

She Doesn't Sleep By Anthony Amorim-

Feels like a random statement tbh. also reminds me of Not!Sasha too.

Nightmare Fuel By Lemon Demon-

funky song- fits the vibe- I don't know what more I can say-

Everybody Loves Me by OneRepublic-

I don't remember actually???? I think It was an Elias one??? but thinking about it now that doesn't really make much sense???? I'm gonna keep it tho, fits the vibe, at least it does to me.

Bloody Nose By Jack Conte-

fits the vibe :)

Christmas Kids By Roar-

I think I saw an animatic to this one time? now I can only think of the season one archival staff,,,, my beloveds,,,,

La nuit en matin By OH MU-

imma be honest, I have no idea what this one's actually about, but It lowkey reminds me of the intro music during end of season three- y'know, the clown vibes :D

9 to 5 By Dolly Parton-

Archival staff moment

American Healthcare By Penelope Scott-

I guess it could technically be seen as an End themed one? but I put it on bc I felt like it fit the vibes (are you getting sick of reading vibes? i'm getting sick of typing it)

Butch 4 Butch By Rio Romeo-

mostly just the rat filled piano line,,,,,, and also it fits the vibes to me.

Oblivion By Grimes-

Kinda feels like a statement?? In a way?

Murders By Miracle Musical-

the vibes. hopefully thats the last time i type that for this-

oh yeah woo yeah, we're onto the specific Entities now B) lets start with the one that probably has the most, if not, it sure feels like it-

The Spiral:

Spiral Eyes By Rewenge-

yeahhhh,,,, I know it doesn't really fit the vibes all that well, But the title fits and I like it so-

The Distortionist By Ghost and Pals-

this one is SUPER obvious, but it fits REALLY well in my mind.

Out of Her Head (Outerlude) [From The Film Possibly in Michigan] By Korban Baxter-

I can literally picture this one- I lowkey wanna do an animatic of this one one day.

A Crow's Trial By Vane Lily-

OKAY- so this last one is because it's the song from an absolutely GORGEOUS animation/animatic by Akidachi on YouTube, I ADORE this animation. please watch it omg-

again, I'm like, 90% sure that The Spiral has the most songs on this playlist, definitely not a bias or anything. next up is the mf uhhhh-

The Corruption:

Spiral of Ants By Lemon Demon-

no explanation needed.

Maggot By Slutever-

Mostly just the name, but it's a good song too so-

Sick On Seventh Street By Sarah and the Safe Word-

fits the vibe title and actual song wise.

in retrospect under my skin probably could be here-

The Web:

Redesign Your Logo (Bonus Track) By Lemon Demon-

Feels like a very web song,,,

Boris The Spider By The Who-

Spider,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Spider Dance By Toby Fox-

Yes,,, like from undertale,,,,,,,

i think thats it for the web (i swore there were more,,,,)

The Lonely:

Nobody By Mitski-

C'mon, you didn't think I WOULDN'T put this one on, did you?

This December By Ricky Montgomery-

idk what it is exactly about this one, just,,,, feels correct?

Blue Jay Way By The Beatles-

MANNNNNNN- i love this song, my mom hates it- that's unrelated- but I always just feel like there's fog or like, an eerie sea, or something- while listening to it. it feels very lonely-

I'm a Member of the Midnight Crew (1909) By Eddie Morton-

I have no idea why spotify suggested this song to me, but I will never not find it funny. Anyway- reminds me of the crew on Peter's ship :)

The Stranger:

Rattlesnake By Kabaret Sybarit-

Idk, feels like smth Nikola would sing at jon- idk how else to explain it-

A Mask of My Own Face By Lemon Demon-

pretty self explanatory lolll

The Slaughter:

War Pigs By Black Sabbath-

war.

The Hunt:

The Hunter By Slaves-

maybe this one is because it's because it's litterally called the hunter, and that they say hunter a bunch, but it is fun to listen to-

Teeth By 8 Graves-

I cannot remember my reasoning at this current moment-

The Flesh:

Body By Mother Mother-

the lyrics do be fittin doe

The Dark:

Everything Goes Dark By The Hoosiers-

i mean- everything goes dark- what more do you want me to say-

Dr.Sunshine Is Dead By Will Wood and the Tapeworms-

i think its mostly the song's vibe and the title.

The End:

The Trick to life By The Hoosiers-

the trick to life is not to get too attached to it.

Memento Mori: the most important thing in the world By Will Wood-

remember death.

YOOO OKAY NOW WE'RE ON THE ONES THAT I HAVE ACTUAL THINGS TO SAY ABOUT NOW- at least for the most part-

Characters:

i think i'm gonna go from least to most for this- (spoilers, Jon has the most ones because I care him)

Cryptid Hunt- Demo By Averno, Sushi Soucy-

this one makes me think of the WTGFs,,,,,

You're at the Party (Bonus Track) By Lemon Demon-

makes me think about Micheal Shelley,,,,,,,

Saint Bernard By Lincoln-

Alice "daisy" Toner moment-

Mary By The Happy Fits-

mary keay,,,,,,

there used to be a gerry one too, but the more I heard it in the context of the playlist and him, It just didn't fit,,,,,

Ew it's Elias/jonah time-

The Fine Print By The Stupendium-

capitalism- jk- kinda- Idk, just feels like it fits because he really just kinda,,, doesn't care about his employees-

How Bad Can I Be? from the lorax-

I had to-

Boss 3 from the terraria soundtrack-

Listen- I don't know why- but- it has elias/jonah vibes- the vibes are fowl, but the song is good.

Ruler of Everything By Tally Hill-

Panopticon/eyepocolypes time-

Ayooo it's jon time- I really hope I can write out my thoughts in a way that makes any kind of sense- /foreshadowing

A Sadness Runs Through Him By The Hoosiers-

Goddddd,,,,, he's just kinda filled with sadness and survivors guilt, just like, all the time huh?

Home By Cavetown-

the lyrics are just- very him- like- I just gjbdjgsflkjns-

Broken Crown By Mumford & Sons-

frick- the foreshadowing was accurate- the best I can describe it is that the lyrics just???? y'know??? hhh why am I like this sometimes-

Sweet HIbiscus Tea By Penelope Scott-

i'm willing to bet that he never wanted to be the main character-

Honey I'm Home By Ghost and Pals-

I saw a Jon centric animatic to this one time- I can't for the life of me remember who by, But everytime I hear the moth lines, my brain goes ":0" Because I remember there was a time when people kept drawing moth jon- I don't know where that came from but I thought it was very cool.

Who Are You, Really? By Mikky Ekko-

I'm like- actually starting to get frustrated with how poorly im articulating my thoughts right now- this just isn't funny anymore-

Sleep By My Chemical Romance-

I'm not actually sure why for this one- I just remeber putting on my black parade CD, hearing this, and being like, "damn, that do kinda be jon tho-"

I hope you enjoyed my ramblings- tbh, all this sounded and read out better in my head. My words might not make sense, but I do like how the playlist is. also im very tired, maybe this would've been written better if I wasn't struggling to keep my eyes open lol. I'm gonna fall asleep now- or maybe i'll post a spiral themed doodle dump again, who knows. I don't know.

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.15

Jealousy Incarnate

11/09/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 6,639

Warnings: language, angst, pining, fluff, jealousy, confused Peter Parker

A/N: Oh man, I’ve had a WEEK. My pain flared up out of nowhere and then I just couldn’t focus my brain. It was hell to get this chapter out, not because I didn’t want to but I just couldn’t. It rarely happens but I just couldn’t concentrate. Anyway, I hope you like this one. Things are...changing. Let me know what you think! As this story gets so many comments, I cannot reply to all of them but I DO read them all. I will try and respond to some of them. I love y’all so much. You mean the world to me. If you happen to reblog, thanks for helping me spread my work! xoxo

TAGS ARE CLOSED FOR THIS STORY!

You didn’t know you could be this angry. This hurt. This…jealous?

The festering boil that Maggie’s constant mention had brought, you thought, had been done away with.

True to his word, Steve did everything in his power to show you that it was you and only you.

As you’d begun your descent through the castle's pretty dark oak hallways, warm wooden walls lined with portraits and colorful tapestries, you’d almost made up your mind to pull him aside and just give in.

Love him as you were meant to. As you’ve been wanting to do.

You've been feeling less and less apprehensive with his Majesty and you’re just about ready to welcome him back into your bed.

Back into your life, properly. As your husband.

You still need to tell him about the baby too. Another month gone and you still haven’t told him, and your belly is just starting to swell.

You reach down and give it a quick caress over your dress, fingers tracing the delicate and ornate embroidery of the firm black bodice. The orange silk shirt underneath with it’s ruffled and off the shoulder neckline keep you cool in the last heatwave of autumn before true winter comes. Does it snow here? You aren’t sure.

The gray skirt is light weight, flowing around you like a gossamer cloud with only the faintest hints of black thunder within.

Around your neck you’re wearing your locket. Carefully you reach up to fix it as you head for the garden, where you know his Majesty will be.

He goes every day to walk the space, wondering if today will be the day you come down, or so he says.

You’ve tried to catch glimpse of him in the weeks past and you do see him wandering around in the afternoons.

Today you’re sure is the day to forgive him. Truly forgive him. For everything. Today, you and his Majesty can start all over again. Today is the day that your new life begins.

Turning into the garden, your feet stutter as you watch his Majesty walk towards the hedge and flower maze entrance, his wide shoulders relaxed. He has his hands held behind his back, but his face is happy, smiling, not a care in the world it seems.

Not even for you.

Despite his proclamations of coming down here to wait for you, there he goes, walking side by side with a blonde woman who stands taller and firmer than you will ever be. Her body even through the luxurious diamond blue gown she’s wearing is clearly fit and able.

You’re no slouch but her body is ridiculous. Carefully crafted protection. You shouldn’t compare. You shouldn’t do it, but your body is swelling. Your breasts are already growing larger. The fatty places, already soft and jiggly are thickening more.

She reaches out to grab his Majesty’s bicep and gives it a squeeze as she laughs, and he laughs with her.

He’s laughing with her!

You’re not expecting the tightness in your chest at the sight of him smiling and laughing with someone else. Not pulling away when she touches him the way he’d done so many times with you.

You can still remember trying to reach for his hand on your wedding day and he’d quickly pulled his hand out of reach.

You see red and huff. Fed up.

He turns to talk to her but then as you step back, your movement seems to catch his eye.

Quickly as you can, while his smiling eyes are taking a split second to recognize you, you turn and hurry back towards the castle, moving around the garden gate and out of sight, a flurry of voile skirt following in your wake.

You hear him before you see him, heart pounding with betrayal.

Suddenly he’s on you, his hand around your wrist as you turn to look at him, confusion and hurt in your eyes.

“Y/N…” He says in thick desperation that forms a lump in your throat. “You came.”

He smiles. And you hate him all over again.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Come with me.” Nat urges you, moving to pull you up from bed.

“Nat, I’m not even dressed yet.” You complain, moving towards the basin in the corner of your room where you’ve taken to running every morning. Sometimes after midday as well.

This baby is not making your pregnancy easy.

Nat sees where you’re headed and her excitement fades as her brow furrows instead.

“You okay?” She releases your hand and instead wraps an arm around your lower back.

“I’m fine.” You chuckle, pushing her arm away.

She and grandmother have been fussing over you since she arrived, watching your every move, every pain, every dizzy spell.

“Just a bit sick to my stomach. Nothing out of the ordinary.” You assure her and stop by your table instead to pick at your breakfast.

You stare at the jam in agony, wishing you could take a bite of the strawberry delicacy that his Majesty had sent up for you two mornings ago. It was better than the last and you wish you could eat it, but the baby does not like it and so, it sits there. Ignored.

You eat only a bit of bread. Then carefully raise the cup of wormwood and mint tea, suggested by grandmother for its calming properties.

Scrunching your nose, you sip it, and relish when your stomach settles a little. The taste is not exactly your favorite, but you’ll gladly sacrifice your taste buds to stop being sick every five minutes.

“Are you sure? I can fetch Grandmother.” Nat offers, adopting the name you’ve been calling the old woman since she arrived.

“I’m sure. I’ll feel better when I can eat. I’m hungry but at the same time, I cannot stand to look at food.” You sigh, missing your jams and jellies.

“Well, let’s get you dressed.” She hurries over to your wardrobe to look at your dresses and opts for something simple.

A white gown made of flowing light fabric. It kind of looks like cotton but not quite. It’s minimal compared to the other gowns you’ve worn around the castle. Just white. No design. Only a simple ruffle around the neck to accent your bust.

“Why?” You plead without whining.

“Because I have something to show you. Something that you must see. No exceptions. I also have something for you when we get down there.” She offers ominously.

“Down where?” You ask, moving to her as she throws your dress over the back of the opposite chair at your table then holds her hands out and waits for you to stand still to strip you.

“You’ll see.” She’s grinning like a cat, and you’re suddenly terrified.

It turns out to be the garden that Nat wants to take you to.

Fresh air is just what you need, and you find that your stomach settles completely once you’re out in the open space.

“This was a good idea.” You smile, feeling at ease and better than you’ve felt since you got back.

Of course, his Majesty is always on your mind. He’s the whole reason you’ve come back.

He’s the last piece of your puzzle. The reason you don’t sleep soundly.

And yet, he’s your husband. How can someone that’s already yours drive you this mad?

“I’m glad you think so.” Nat smiles beside you, her arm wrapped around yours as she leads you down the familiar path.

The gardens are alive with the end of the season. Dragonflies glisten with pearlescent wings, birds and bees fill the air, whizzing by in the comforting breeze. The sun pimples your skin as you soak it up and your hand subconsciously moves over your still normal tummy, excited to give your baby healthy sunshine.

The air is fragrant. The endless flowers, which you now notice have been left to grow wild, paint the garden in vibrant colors.

He listened. You can’t help but think. Because you’d told his Majesty that your only criticism with the beautiful space is that everything was too well kept. Too structured.

Now the gardens have begun to resemble the wildflowers you’d napped in on rolling green hills back in Malibia.

This garden…most of it anyway, makes you feel like you’re home.

You make to turn to the left, away from Margaret’s pavilion which his Majesty had banned you from using—the only spot in this lovely place that makes you feel like an intruder still…unwelcome—but Nat pulls you to a stop and turns towards the right.

“Let’s go this way. We never go this way.” She insists, forcing her manipulation to sound like genuine pleading. You can see right through her though.

“Because there isn’t anything over there, except a place that I’m not allowed to go.” You sigh and move once more towards the left, pulling your arm from Nat's when she doesn’t move.

You get three steps before there’s a deep sigh. “Wait!”

Stopping, you turn to look at the wily Goddess and she rolls her eyes, reaching into her dress pocket to pull out a thick piece of parchment.

“What’s that?” You wonder, suddenly nervous because you know very well what it is.

“I wanted to see your face when you see it, but I suppose I should just do it his way. Here.” She offers the parchment to you looking disappointed.

“His way?” You repeat, confuse and moving back towards her.

Taking the folded piece, you open it up and stare down at his Majesty's familiar hand.

My Darling,

He begins, and your heart beats crazy.

I understand why you cannot see me. Rather, why you won’t see me. I have done nothing but make you feel as if you do not belong here. Such is my crime.

You frown, hating the reminder.

I didn’t know what you would come to mean to me. How could I when you came out of nowhere and struck me down like a bolt of lightning? I want you to know that I wholeheartedly regret the things I said…and did. You didn’t deserve them. I was a fool. I wish I could take them back. All of them.

Especially our wedding night. My heart is raw knowing that I hurt you that way. I love you. I can’t believe I…

From this day forth, I will do everything in my power to make sure that you know just how much you mean to me.

You’re chewing your lip furiously, anxious and somehow grateful for the words he’s written but only time will tell how well he can keep that promise.

This is your home, sweetheart. You’re my one and only from now until our dying day. Forgive me for making you feel as if you had to compete with someone else.

The funny thing is, you can see the intent behind his words even though he only half means them.

You can tell that he means them in the sense that you are his future. He loves you as his current wife. The woman who will be the mother of his children though, he doesn’t know that yet.

In that sense, he means it, but he also meant every word about Margaret. He loved her to death and when she died, he fell apart. He ceased to function.

She had a part of him that you can never touch. Not in the same way and you feel slightly sad that he feels he must bury that down to make you happy.

He should make you happy just as you want to make him happy, but that doesn’t mean you like the way he’s going about it. You’d much rather he be open with you, no matter how painful hearing about Margaret might be.

Maybe so long as he doesn’t compare you, then you’ll be okay?

I hope this small gesture will prove to you that I mean what I say. I’ve instructed Nat to take you.

You’ve been walking down the pathway towards the opening with the pavilion and suddenly it springs out of the greenery.

You gasp, completely thrown by the fact that Margaret’s red daisies are gone and in their place are what must be hundreds and hundreds of pale pink and peach peonies.

They rustle in the breeze, wafting sweet fragrance towards you threatening to knock you off your feet with how much you want to swoon.

With shallow breath, a gasp of air you hadn’t realized you’d been depriving yourself of, you look back down at the letter.

For the one that I crushed. I am the biggest moron in the twelve Kingdoms.

I love you, Y/N. Believe me or not, it does not change the fact that it’s true. Never forget that I am waiting.

I will wait forever if I must, patiently. Longingly. Desperately waiting for you to love me and this time I will gladly let you.

Yours forever,

His Majesty King Steve G. Rogers

You don’t know what to do. You want to cry because you’re so happy, but you also want to laugh because this letter is everything you’ve wanted him to tell you. You’re angry because it isn’t in person, but you have only yourself to blame for that.

You begged him to stay away and you do still want him to keep his distance. But you wish you could look into his eyes and see if he means these things he’s writing.

“Y/N?” Nat checks, peeking around a small hedge. “You okay?”

You turn to her and nod, smiling lightly as tears glisten between your lashes but do not fall.

“I…Why couldn’t he be like this from the start?” You sigh, looking down at your letter and then looking up at the peonies standing in pleasing contrast against the dark stone of the little build.

Nat sighs. “I think he wanted to.”

You look at her, not believing her one bit. “But…”

“I think that’s exactly what made him mean. Steve has always been one for commitment. For duty and honor and marrying you was not exactly his choice. I’m not saying that he isn’t glad he did it, but the council pushed him to marry quickly. Before he was ready to let go of Maggie.

“I don’t think he was expecting to like you as much as he did. To love you. Truly love you and also still love her. They made promises to each other when they thought that they had forever and then forever was gone. But he still made those promises and ever a man of his word, he tried to keep himself from giving in to you.” Nat smiles at you, reaching over to rub your back.

“So, what you’re saying is that he was purposefully cruel because he was in love with me and didn’t want to be?” You repeat for her.

Nat’s smile turns apologetic and you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I don’t know if I can forgive him, Nat. I have had no experience in love. I was a virgin when we married. I…Thor was my first kiss. My first real one that wasn’t taken by force.” Some of the men of your village were disgusting and only a knife to the throat could deter them. “It should have been Steve. His hands should have been soft and gentle. Instead, he held me down and…”

“He knows that you need time.” Nat assures you. “But do you think you can forgive him eventually? Enough to be with him? To be his wife again?”

You lapse into silence, staring at the romantic gesture before you and notice inside the gazebo a small table has been set up with teas, biscuits, and jams.

Your heart swells, fluttering in your chest as you huff a small breath of delight.

Now that you’ve been outside for a while, you realize how hungry you are and your stomach growls loudly.

“Is he trying to overfeed me?” Your heart grows wary. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

You turn to Nat who shakes her head. “Of course not. No one but Grandmother and I know and we’re not telling anyone until you’re ready. But Y/N, you can’t keep this to yourself for long. The council will usurp Steve if he doesn’t produce an heir. You have just under five months left to announce your pregnancy and have a doctor examine you to ascertain the validity of your pregnancy.”

“I know.” You move towards the pavilion, taking in the tall steeple roof that you just now realize ends in a point made of glass. It gives view to the sky. “I just didn’t want him to love me for the baby.”

“He’s already in love with you.” Nat promises. “Baby or not. He wants you.”

“Will he be happy?” You wonder. “Truly happy? Will he regret that it isn’t with Maggie that he’s building a family? Will he love my baby as much as he would have loved hers?”

Your mouth runs on, asking the questions only your heart knows. Afraid of being second to a memory. Afraid to hear him say those words again, “Maggie wouldn’t-Maggie would-Maggie did-Maggie, Maggie, Maggie”.

“Y/N…” Nat begins.

“It’s stupid to be jealous of her. I know that.” You sit in the small padded seat and reach over to lather jam on a biscuit and take a nice big bite.

No nausea.

“When you’re ready, ask him. And I’m sure he will tell you exactly how he feels about you and your baby. His baby, Y/N.” She reminds you.

You nod. “Our baby.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s just a peek. That’s all Steve wants. Just a quick look.

He knows you came down here because Peter came to tell him.

Peter who has been moping around Steve instead of being with you and Nat as he usually is because you’ve instructed him to stay away too.

He’s right beside him now, walking silently the way the kid does.

His mouth is a different story.

“What did I do? Do you think I offended her Majesty in some way?” Peter asks, gesturing his chest over his pale green tunic. “I understand why she doesn’t want to speak with you or having you around. You were a huge ass to her. But me?”

Steve turns to glare at him, frowning as he turns back towards the smaller hidden pathway that leads to your pavilion.

“What? I didn’t do anything to make her angry.” Peter reiterates.

“No.” Steve sighs. “She might just need some space. Talk about women’s problems with Nat.”

Or tell her about things that you’d done with Thor that you didn’t want to say around Peter?

Even though Thor had assured him that he hadn’t lain with you, Steve wonders.

“You’re sure she never asked about him?” Steve questions your guard and Peter frowns at him this time.

“Why do you keep asking me?”

“I just want to be sure.” He explains. “They spent a lot of time together.”

“Your Majesty, Steve…if she wasn’t in love with you, she wouldn’t be pushing you away right now. She has to really care about you to be pissed enough to give you the cold shoulder. If she were talking to you like normal, then I think you’d have reason to worry.

“If she stops getting angry, then it means she doesn’t care.” Peter nods. “She never asked about Thor. Not to me.”

Steve stares at the kid—at twenty-two he’s not really a kid anymore but to Steve he’ll always be that massively strong little twerp that stole his shield—and realizes that he’s right.

You’re angry. Which means that you still care. Steve smiles and walks on, shifting into a semi-crouch as they get closer to a small opening in the hedge that is hidden behind a well-placed tree.

“Why are we here?” Peter asks, whispering because Steve’s crouching makes everything feel sneaky.

“I just want to see if she likes it.” Steve stops behind the tree, peeking out towards the pavilion.

All of Margaret’s red daisies are one, replaced by large, fragrant, and beautiful peonies in peach and pink shades.

His heart gives a small ache at the absence of the flower he’s associated with Maggie for almost twenty years, but then he sees you, sitting in the pavilion, smiling from ear to ear.

You’re a vision in white. No…more like a cream, with a pale green ribbon around your waist. The ruffles on your neckline accentuate your breasts and Steve’s heart gives a small ache. He wants to have you in his arms again.

Beneath him, beside him, inside you as one but properly this time. Showing you just how much he should have been worshipping your precious body from day one.

You laugh lightly, chuckling at something Nat has said then reach out to grab a biscuit and smear some jam on it.

You take a bite and the sticky pulp smears against your pretty lips.

Steve swallows hard, then his mouth falls open as he gapes at you while you lick your lips clean. Had your mouth always been so tempting?

He’d been fighting himself so hard that he had never given himself a chance to really look at you and appreciate the small details of your body. Now it’s all he sees. The way your hands elegantly curl around a tart. The gentle way you throw your head back and laugh as Nat serves your tea.

He grins when you slouch and then as if you’re remembering you shouldn’t be slouching, you suddenly sit up straight and he can see you chastising yourself silently for the slip.

He’d give anything to move to you and rub your back, assure you that you can slouch and lay back if you want to. Convention is only for when the public can see you. At least in these instances. Tiny things like this…you should be comfortable in your home.

Suddenly, he realizes that you are. Forgetting to sit up straight, laughing in the pavilion, surrounded by the flower and its fragrance that has permanently seeped into your skin and hair. You are completely at ease in this spot and he feels a pain in his gut that moves up along his ribs and into his chest carving out splinters because this should have always been yours.

He made you feel unwelcome…how can he ever make it up to you?

“Steve…?” Peter whispers, and Steve’s head inches to turn to him but when he doesn’t Steve takes the nod as assent to continue. “Do you really love her?”

For a moment, Steve can only stare at you and ask himself that same question. You lay your elbow on the back of the bench and lean your head into your hand as you take a bite once more, staring at Nat as she animatedly recounts some tale.

Your hair falls around your face, the small smile that stretches your lips is angelic. Perfection. Why did he have to wake up to your true charms so late? Why couldn’t he have given in sooner?

“I do.” He confesses.

“Because if you don’t—and you’re just using her so that you can get your heir and keep your crown-” Peter begins.

Steve rounds to look at him so quickly that Peter takes a step back, hands twitching at his side, ready to web his way out of the garden if Steve tries anything.

“There was only one time that I used her. One time. And it was to save Morgana from marrying me. I think I’ve loved Y/N from the moment I saw her standing in my throne room…in that blue dress…looking excited and terrified. And heartbroken when I told her that she could never make me happy.” Steve sighs. “Now she’s the only one who can.”

He looks at you but you’re rising, eyes brimming with recognition and excitement.

Although he can’t hear you, he sees you open your mouth in an exclamation of delight. Calling to someone out of sight.

You raise your skirts and hurry down the steps of the pavilion and hurry towards the hedge path.

Lumbering out of it comes Thor, blonde hair flowing behind him as he rushes to meet you.

The two of you collide and he can hear Thor’s laugh, booming around the space and filling it with his deep chortle. He can’t hear yours, but he can see it in your face as Thor lifts you and turns you around slowly.

Without hesitation, he leans in and kisses your lips. A quick peck that might be in friendship but the both of you shut your eyes and Steve must look away as his chest is cracked open. He wraps his hand around the backside of the tree he’s hiding behind, fingers crumbling away at the bark as he curls his hand around it in a fist.

He tears his eyes back up to the two of you, forcing himself to watch.

All that affection…over a month…

“What did I do?” Steve wonders, trying to see it all through new eyes how he pushed you and neglected you and refused to give you love.

Thor’s got his hands on either side of your waist and he’s looking down at you as if he’s examining your body and Steve hates him again. And himself. Mostly himself.

Thor steps aside and from the path comes a smaller body, thinner, long straight brown hair flying behind her as she races to embrace you.

Morgana.

Tony and Pepper follow a few steps behind but stand back to allow you and your sister to reunite.

“Steve?” Peter checks with worry in his voice. “You okay?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Your Majesty?”

“No.” Steve admits. “I’m not. I have work to do.”

Without another word, Steve pushes past him and heads back up to the castle to finish what he’d started in his office.

If he’s going to win you back, he’s going to have to really try.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re at a loss for words, arms clinging to the teen girl because her own hug is so very tight.

With wide eyes you look up at Tony and Pepper who stand there smiling at you fondly.

You can’t say what you’d like because Thor is here so instead you carefully tuck Morgana’s brown hair behind her ear and coax her head up to look at you.

“Mara…” You coo, happy to meet your sister at last. “I’m so glad you’re finally home.”

“I’ve been home.” She says, half laughing and it’s only now that you realize how distinguished she sounds. How much of a princess she really and truly is as opposed to you… “On the way here, I was telling Thor that I’d only seen you a few times a year so when you offered to take my place as King Rogers’s bride, I was so full of love and gratitude. I can never explain the complexities of how I feel to finally have you in my life once again. Thank you.”

She’s letting it all out, spilling everything in so few words. Telling you that she’s grateful that father found you and that you agreed to marry his Majesty. She’s telling you that she accepts you as her sister and that she understands that where you come from is a secret and she is going to do everything in her power to keep it for you.

You smile at her, hoping it’s with fondness that you do so.

“Tell me everything.” She suddenly gushes, and then slides to stand beside you. “Can I stay with you for a few weeks? Will Steve mind?”

Even Morgana calls him by his first name?

You nod. “You can stay. I’m sure he won’t mind. You’re my precious sister. I dare him to try.”

Morgana laughs, wrapping her arm around yours and leading you back up to the pavilion where Pepper, Tony, and Nat follow.

The next few weeks are full of time spent with your family.

Every day you wake up and have breakfast with Morgana, Thor, or Tony and Pepper until they finally have to leave to deal with kingdom business. Morgana stays. So does Thor. And because you’re not ready for anyone to know about the baby yet, you have to make even more adjustments to your day-to-day life.

Before the castle wakes, Grandmother comes to see you. Often, you’re already up, spewing your dinner into its designated basin. Nat isn’t around this early so it’s up to you to take care of yourself.

Grandmother checks your body, measures your stomach which steadily begins to curve outwards. After a month, your bump is finally large enough to notice, but only when you stand naked or when someone comes to feel it.

Nat does this every day and she has to look for it to feel the hard, little pebble that seems to be growing in your belly.

You’re so happy and it’s dimmed by only one thing.

After lunch you take your reading and writing lessons, and as he always does, his Majesty waits to cross into his council chambers as you exit the large library.

He stops, his eyes devouring the sight of you.

Every time he does it, your cheeks burn, and your neck overheats. Every day he looks bit more tortured.

Finally, after the third week of not speaking with him, he sends word with Nat.

“Another one?” You ask, looking across your room at the vases of flowers that he’s sent. There are gifts still unopened on one of your tables by the window.

They’re lovely, and you are grateful, but you’re starting to think that he may be wanting to buy your affections, so you stop opening them and just stare at the slowly growing pile.

“It’s just him telling you that he’ll be walking in the garden if you ever wish to join him. He’s getting desperate.” Nat’s lips curve into a satisfied half smile.

“Why is that funny?” You wonder, staring at the letter before moving over to your window to try and get a good look at the garden but from this side you can’t see much.

“No one has ever made him work this hard.” She tells you. “With Maggie everything was just decided. They were together one day then they were getting married. It all just fell into place.”

You sigh. “I wanted it to be that easy for us.”

“I know. But I’m glad it isn’t. I think it’ll make you both stronger in the end.” She nods.

With a sigh you turn to look at her, watching her fill your bath.

“What about you?” You demand.

“What about me?” She widens her green eyes, shaking her head as she measures your oils.

“When are you going to stop torturing Bucky and marry him?” You bite.

“Oh, no. Not you too.” Nat gripes.

“You know what? I think that’s a valid question.” A deep voice offers.

In your doorway, Bucky stands with his arms crossed over his chest.

“When are you going to marry me? I can’t keep waiting for you, my scarlet rose. I’m an eligible bachelor. I have many women who would love to be Lady Barnes.” He boasts.

“Oh, is that so?” Nat wonders, eyes narrowed to slits. “Well, then I guess you don’t need me then.”

She shrugs.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, your Majesty. I’m going to go fetch you some more hot water.” She turns and moves past Bucky, nudging him with her shoulder as she passes.

Bucky is speechless, staring at you with confusion as to how his gentle teasing went so wrong.

“What-?”

“You’re really going to just let her walk out after that?” You offer.

“Shit.” Bucky gasps, then sprints from the room after Nat. “Natasha!”

You peek out at the garden again, and this time you can see his Majesty’s wide shoulders and golden head as he waves slowly through the hedge maze in the distance, hands behind his back in contemplation.

Suddenly he looks towards your room and he stops to stare, the two of you sharing in this moment of utter pining.

Will you and he ever be as close as Nat and Bucky?

You rub your tummy and bite your lip.

How long will he wait?

~~~~~~~~~~

“Steve?” The blonde woman calls, and rounds the gate, eyes searching for him.

Steve?! She calls him, ‘Steve’?!

You stare at him, this new revelation painful.

His mouth opens and shuts as he finally sees past his own happiness to see the discomfort in your eyes.

“Oh.” The blonde says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you—You must be Y/N.”

You know damn well that she should be calling you by your title, so your heart grows a little colder and you carefully yank your hand out of his Majesty’s grip.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you.” She hurries to his Majesty’s side and curtsies before wrapping her arm around his elbow as his own brow furrows as you inch away.

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady…?” You wait for his Majesty to speak. He should be the one to introduce the two of you.

She gives his arm a squeeze.

“What?” He looks at her and realizes what’s happening. “Oh, right. Forgive me. This is Lady Sharon Carter.”

Then he hesitates.

You fix your eyes on him, wondering what the uncertainty is for.

“Sharon…” He looks at the blond whose angelic smile is soft and controlled but real and her hand is still around his elbow! She’s a true lady. Like Morgana, so put together and controlled. A golden swan before a dulled brown pigeon. “Sharon is Margaret’s cousin. We grew up together.”

Seriously? Another Carter? This is just perfect.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You tell her, speaking quickly. “If you’ll excuse me, Lady Sharon, but I don’t feel well.”

You turn and leave them, storm cloud skirts swishing along your ankles.

You’re inside when you hear the hurried steps that then break into a run before that same heated hand is around your wrist again.

“Wait, Y/N…don’t go.” His Majesty pleads.

As you turn to pull your hand free, his Majesty tightens his grip and so it pulls you closer to him so that you’re standing inches away.

“Release me.” You speak sternly.

“Why are you upset? Did I say something?” He suddenly looks deep in thought, replaying the past ten minutes in his head.

“Your Majesty, please, release me.” You beg.

“Your Maj-? Steve, please Y/N. Call me Steve.” He doesn’t release you. “Why are you trying to leave? You came down finally. Does this mean you’re ready to speak to me?”

And he sounds like he’s finally been put out of his misery. He’s so happy that your heart aches because you made him miserable this past month and you hadn’t anticipated that. You’d only wanted a break from everything he’d brought you. Pain. Humiliation. Neglect.

You hadn’t meant to hurt him in the process.

Once more you attempt to pull yourself free, but he suddenly throws his arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his chest.

“Why are you trying to leave me?” He asks, bringing his voice down low and quiet so that you and he are the only two in the hallway, the castle, the world.

“Did you get tired of waiting for me? Did you need company?” You ask of him, wondering if he’ll pick up on the jealousy you’re feeling. The sting of it is unbearable.

Being jealous of Maggie had been one thing. She’s gone. That blonde…Sharon…she’s right there. Clinging to his arm.

He sighs, a small smile tugging at his lips. The heat of his breath warms your lips and your body melts without your permission. He quickly compensates for the lack of resistance and cradles you closer to his body.

“Oh, sweetheart, no.” He smiles a little more, this time it reaches his eyes and they’re so dazzling in their sparkling blue that you nearly forget that you’re upset about the blonde woman with her arms on your husband. “Sharon arrive late last night. She heard that I was in the garden and came to look for me. I wasn’t expecting her.”

He licks his lips, dipping down to wrap his arms, both of them, around your waist better. He stands up straight pulling you along with him so that you’re standing on your toes a bit to compensate for the difference in height.

“I’ve only been waiting for you, pigeon.” He assures you.

Your heart flutters, stomach tumbles, as he scrunches up his nose.

“I’m not sold on the pigeon name.” He suddenly says.

“What?” You gasp, so breathless that it makes him smile a little wider.

“You are not a pigeon.” He explains. “And I’d hate to jinx us and call you a bird only to have you run off on me again.”

“I won’t-”

“I’d rather not risk it.” He sighs and begins to rock his body from side to side, taking yours with it.

“Your Maj-”

“How about pearl? Can you be my pearl?” He shakes his head. “No. You’re full of beauty and elegance. A true Queen. Noble. Royalty. A diamond? Maybe you’re my gem?”

His words sting because they’re all wrong. You’re not a true queen or noble or even remotely royal. You’d be lucky to be on the same level as a pearl. You’re definitely not a gem.

You don’t know what makes you do it. Maybe it’s because you’ve been in such pristine specimens of the upper-class lady in Morgana’s and Nat’s company? And with Sharon here too?

You’re nothing like these women. You’re nothing. No one. A peasant. A commoner.

“I’m not.” You tell him.

“If you don’t like being my gem, we can pick something else.” He says, not understanding.

“I’m no one, your Majesty.” You continue.

“Steve.” He chastises.

“I’m a peasant. Truly.”

He stops rocking.

“Father…King Anthony found me on the side of the road, helping an old woman fetch her purse from a bog. I’m an orphan. I come from nothing and no one. I’m not his true daughter. He wanted to save his daughter and you, and he begged me to do this for him and I agreed…I’m of no consequence.” Your lip trembles, threatening sorrow as you realize that you’ve told him your last secret.

The only one that matters.

He’ll kick you out. You’ll have to go back to Malibia a failure.

“I’m no one.” You repeat.

His face serious, stern, and those blue eyes boring into your own, his arms tighten.

“You’re a Rogers.” He tells you, so certain that your heart skips a beat. “You’re my wife. My Queen. And you’re my flower.”

He smiles slowly, happy at last with his term of endearment.

“And tomorrow, I’ll throw you the wedding feast that you deserved. I’m going to dance with you and make sure everyone knows that you’re mine. Especially Thor.”

You huff a laugh. Your heart soars.

He leans in towards you, licking his lips as he does.

You shut your eyes.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice floats down from behind him.

His Majesty breathes in sharply, angrily, frustrated, but turns to look at Bucky while gently placing you back on the ground.

“I’ll be right there.” His Majesty assures him, apparently exchanging words with a mere glance, then turns back to you.

“You have nothing to worry about with Sharon.” He promises, caressing the side of your head. “We’ll continue this soon?”

He’s genuinely asking you for your permission and you nod, so stunned at the sudden shift that your mind is reeling.

He leans down to kiss your cheek.

“I will send for you, Lady Rogers.” He smirks, then leaves you to stare after him and Bucky, your legs numb.

[unsettledink]

Kinktober Day 12

Hang Up

Prompt: Phone Sex

Word Count: 2172

Summary: The things Peter is saying— it doesn’t matter what Tony thinks about them, what he wants; he needs to hang up right now.

Right now. Okay, now. Seriously, now. This second. Or the next. 

(dirty talk, mutual masturbation, slightly tipsy Peter, slight dom!Tony)

*

"Mr. Stark?"

"Peter?" Tony says, a little surprised. "It's— uh, after one am, what's happened?"

"Nothing happened, Mr. Stark,” Peter says. Sighs, long and quiet. “I just missed you. Missed hearing you talk.”

“You missed hearing me talk,” Tony says, slowly. Peter hasn’t called him in ages, not even to leave a voicemail. This is… odd. “That's a new one. So you had to call at this time to tell me?”

“I didn't really think you'd pick up, I guess,” Peter says. “I'm really glad you did. Will you just— talk about something for a while? Is it too weird to ask that?”

It's more than a little weird, and Tony probably shouldn't indulge it, shouldn't give Peter the idea that this is something he should repeat. But Peter sounds oddly forlorn. ‘I missed you’, he'd said, and how long has that been going on? “What do you want to hear about?”

“Anything,” Peter says. “Anything you want to say.”

So Tony rambles a bit, wandering from the newest updates to Peter’s suit to his new global defense system. Peter's quiet, not even asking questions, but Tony can still hear him breathing, still on the line.

Can hear a tiny high pitched noise, almost a whimper, like Peter's hurt.

“You don't sound like yourself, kid,” Tony says, because he won’t get a straight answer if he asks if Peter’s hurt. “Where are you?”

“I'm at home, Mr. Stark. Where are you?”

“In the shop,” Tony answers. “Are you hurt? Are you in the suit— FRIDAY, give me a readout on it— 

“I'm not wearing the suit,” Peter says, dragging it out into a whine. “I'm not wearing anything.”

What.

“Okay, that's—” 

“You could fuck me, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, breathy, and Tony's brain completely stops functioning.

“What?” Tony says, nearly squeaks.

“You could fuck me,” Peter says again, so no, Tony did not mishear that. “I'd let you, I'd be happy to let you. I could do whatever you wanted.”

Oh shit, this is bad. “Did you take something?” Tony asks, standing, about two seconds from summoning the armor.

Peter sighs. “I don't have to be drunk to want you to fuck me,” he says. “I want that all the time.”

Okay, so he's drunk, maybe. Still, this is— “Peter—”

“I think about it all the time,” Peter says dreamily. “Think about what it would be like, with you. I've never done it before. You could be my first? Would you like that?” he says, with this awful little thread of vulnerability, and Tony cannot think about what he would like. 

“Or— some people don't,” Peter adds, “maybe you wouldn't. But I think— I think you would. You like new things. You like getting ahead of everyone else.”

“Peter,” Tony says, “listen—”

“I bet you would make it feel so good,” Peter says, like he hasn't even heard Tony. “You're so good at everything else, you're a playboy, right? You could make me feel amazing, I just know it.” He would, Tony thinks, despite himself, he’d make it so amazing; it’s Peter. Fuck. No. He can’t think like that.

“I think I'd love it anyway, no matter what,” Peter says, his breath hitching for a second, “because it'd be your dick inside me, but you'd know how to make it the best.” He moans softly, and Tony realizes he's got to be touching himself. Realizes he can hear the sound of Peter's hand on his cock, the soft wet sound of lube and rustling sheets.

He should hang up, right this second.

“I think about what it be like, having you in me. If you'd be big and it'd be hard to take it, if you'd leave me gaping open after,” and god, Peter has a filthy mouth. “How your hands would feel on me,” Peter says, “your mouth, if you'd leave bruises and hickeys, if you bite while you fuck.”

“Peter,” Tony says, his mouth dry, “I'm— I'm going to hang up now. Just—” he closes his eyes. “Drink some water, get some sleep, and this will seem like a dream in the morning.” A really embarrassing dream that, hopefully, they can both pretend never happened. 

Like Tony will ever forget Peter saying those things.

“No," Peter whines. “Please, Mr. Stark, don't go. Don't hang up on me; I'll be good, okay? I'll be quiet and just listen, I can be quiet, I've got lots of practice making sure no one can hear me when I come.” Tony shudders; yeah, he’d bet Peter does, and he’d make all that practice useless if he had Peter in his hands.  “Please don't leave me like this though. You can talk about whatever you want. I love your voice.”

How the hell is he supposed to resist that, resist Peter begging him not to go? After everything, how is he supposed to?

“Kid—” 

“Please, please,” Peter whispers. “Or— maybe I could be loud? Be noisy? Would that be better, would you like that better? May's not here, I could be as loud as you want. Would you want to stay for that? I'll give you anything you ask for, Mr. Stark.”

“I'm not asking you for anything,” Tony says, hoarse. “Peter, this isn't— you shouldn't do this, you're going to regret it tomorrow.”

“Who cares about tomorrow,” Peter huffs. “All I want is your dick in me and you talking to me, that's all I'll ever really want. Please, Mr. Stark. Wouldn't you like it?”

“It's not about what I'd like, kid.” Really, really not, and it’s never going to be. Peter deserves a hell of a lot better than that.

“What would you like?” Peter says, low, hungry, and even if it’s put on it’s… really working for Tony. “Would you like it slow? Would you make it last forever, take me apart for hours until I can't think about anything, can't do anything except beg?” Peter whimpers. “I wouldn't last very long, Mr. Stark. I'd be begging from the start.”

“Fuck,” Tony whispers, and his cock is so hard, his cock doesn't care how much of a dirty old man this makes him. He presses the heel of his hand against it; he's not going to get himself off to this. He's not.

But he is going to listen, isn't he.

“Or would you like fast?” Peter says. “Would you bend me over whatever's closest and fuck me like that? Not even get an of our clothes off, just shove my pants down and open yours? You could, you could, Mr. Stark. You could shove in and fuck me and come in me so fast I wouldn't even get a chance to, could leave me like that, still hard and full of your come.” 

Peter’s panting, soft little whines between his words. “I bet your fingers would feel so good in me,” he says, “would feel even better than this, bigger than mine, but you wouldn't have to. I'd be fine if you fucked me dry, I wouldn't care if it hurt, and you couldn't really hurt me.”

“Peter,” Tony breathes out, and he's not going to get off, he's not.

“You could fuck me however you wanted,” Peter says, moaning. “I might like it if it was hard, if you fucked me hard enough I couldn't breathe, couldn't stay in place. You could tie me up if you wanted, so you fuck me like that and not have to hold me down.” Fuck, Tony thinks, fuck, he could, it would be so easy and Peter— Peter obviously— no, no. 

“But maybe you'd like holding me down? Oh, fuck— god,” Peter says, his voice breaking. “I wish I had your fingers in me instead.”

“You— are you fingering yourself?” and shit, Tony shouldn't have asked that. But he's said it, he's said something about all this now, he's interacted, fuck.

“Yeah,” Peter says, “got one hand on my dick and one in my ass, bet you'd be better at both.”

The picture that gives Tony is dizzying; he can see it so clearly. “How many?” 

"Huh?"

"How many fingers have you got in yourself?” Tony says, every word a mistake and he doesn’t want to take them back.

Peter moans, long and loud. “Two,” he says.

“Get another in there,” because Tony is the fucking worst.

“Yessir," Peter says, and at this point, Tony may not even have to touch himself to get off.

“God, Peter,” he says.

“Would you fuck me on my back?” Peter asks, his breathing growing harsher. “Bend me in half and fuck me like that, so I can see you, could kiss you? Or—” he gasps, whines, “or would you flip me over and fuck me into the bed, put your hand on my back and shove my face down until I couldn't breathe? Maybe you'd have me on the side of the bed, grab my hips and fuck me like that, maybe—”

“Watch a lot of porn, do you?” Tony says, breathing harder himself.

“Not a lot,” Peter says. “What's in my head is better. It's easier to imagine it’s you that way.”

Tony can imagine it too, and it's going to kill him if that's all he ever gets, these words and those imagined things. They're never going to leave his mind.

“What would you want, baby?” Tony asks. "I want to hear you tell me.”

“Oh god,” Peter gasps. “Mr. Stark, I— he whimpers, and Tony can hear the wet sounds, can hear the bed squeaking a little.

“Don't come until you've told me,” Tony snaps, and judging by the choked off noise he makes, Peter likes getting orders.

“I'd want— I'd want you to pull me into your lap,” Peter says, his voice cacking, “and kiss me. Make out with me for a while until I'm grinding against you, can't stop myself. You— oh, god, you could tell me what a slut I am for it, tell me I'm wasted on anything except being your toy,” and Tony can't take it one second longer, ripping down his zipper and yanking his cock out. “Fuck,” Peter whispers, “fuck, did you just— are you getting off too? Please, are you?”

Tony shudders. Groans despite himself. “Yeah,” he says. “God Peter, listen to yourself, how could I not?”

“Tony,” Peter moans, and that alone nearly does Tony in.

��Come on, kid,” Tony says, stroking his cock, tight, fast. “Tell me the rest of it, get me off.”

“I— fuck, fuck, Tony, please—”

“Tell me.”

“You could mark me up,” Peter says. “Bite me, give me hickeys, get your hand around my throat while you opened me up. Could try and make them last so everybody would know I'd been fucked by you, oh Tony— Tony, you could, please,” Peter begs. “Could finger me until I'm begging for your dick, and then pull me up and drop me right down on it, make me ride you until you came. Maybe— maybe you'll tell me I couldn't come until you did, or couldn't at all—” 

“No,” Tony gasps out, “no, baby, I'd want to see you come, want to see how pretty you'd look like that. Want you to come on my cock just like that, pull your head back and watch while you did.”

“Tony,” Peter moans, “Tony, oh god, yes, please.”

He can almost picture it, almost imagine what Peter would feel like bouncing on his cock, tightening around it and coming, would look like; he already knows how Peter can flush, knows what he looks like when he's startled, when he's sweaty and worn out— fuck, how is he ever supposed to look at Peter in any of those situations again and not want?

“Please,” Peter whispers, “Tony, please, please, you could do that, I'd want it, I would. Fuck, Tony— Tony, please, can I? Can I? I'm so—” he breaks off with a whimper.

“Yes,” Tony tells him. “Go on, kid, let me hear you come.”

“Tony," Peter gasps, and then his breath catches, a second of silence before he lets it out, this gorgeous loud groan, breaking into softer, higher whimpers that just go on and on until Peter sucks in another shaking breath. “Tony,” he breathes out,” oh god, fuck, Tony.”

“Fuck,” Tony says, fucking into his hand, and the sound of Peter coming, coming nearly on his command, that hits him hard enough that he's coming almost before he realizes it.

There's no words for a while after that, just Tony panting, slowly calming as he listens to Peter's ragged breathing.

Where the hell are they going to go from here?

“Peter,” he says, and gets nothing. “Peter? Hey, kid, talk to me.”

There's just the soft sound of Peter's breaths, even, quiet. Tony smiles, slowly. “You fall asleep?” he says, even if Peter can't hear him.

“Alright,” Tony says. “Sweet dreams, baby. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

And tomorrow— if tomorrow Peter still wants, can still say any of those things— 

Tony will find a way for it to happen.

[freedom-in-the-dark]

James Flint Is Gay: A Meta Post

[slides into the Black Sails fandom late with Starbucks]

Hey! What’s up! Here’s a post no one asked for but I wrote mostly for me. Before we get into it, I’ve got some big notices to put on the top here.

DISCLAIMER: If you interpret James as bi, and you prefer that, I am not trying to say you can’t do that or to convince you otherwise! 

You do you! If you’re not cool with seeing him as gay, please do us both a favor and keep scrolling past this post! I’m mildly aware that this fandom has a history of rough discourse surrounding this topic, but I cannot emphasize enough that I am new here, and this post is not an attack. Please do me the courtesy of not attacking me or blocking me or whatnot because I’m not trying to start drama lol. And for what it’s worth, I myself am bi (well, bi ace), so I’d like to think I’m being objective.

This post exists simply because I like to write meta out with my arguments / evidence lined up in a row; it gets things out of my head and onto a screen, and I find it satisfying. And if I’m doing it anyway, I might as well share.

So if you see James as gay, or have an open mind to that interpretation… please allow me to take you on this adventure under the cut. I’m sure it’s obvious, but this contains spoilers? Lol.

Here we go!

Compulsory Heterosexuality vs “Bi Erasure”

Firstly… to address some stuff I’ve seen in my limited Black Sails fandom travels right out of the gate: I’ve seen people imply that interpreting James as gay is “bi erasure,” or they ask “Why are you erasing that James was attracted to Miranda and had an affair with her?”

But to that I say: it’s far more complicated than that.

Gay people can have sexual relationships with people of the opposite sex, especially until / or before they identify as gay. This is how so many gay people can be married to the opposite sex and have biological kids, and then later realize their truth and come out to themselves and their families. Having those experiences or even some variation of actionable attraction to people of other sexes in the past doesn’t negate their ability to later identify as gay, once they stop burying those parts of themselves and/or experience something that “brings that part of them into the light.”

This is why the phrase compulsory heterosexuality exists. The phrase was originally coined by Adrienne Rich in a 1980 essay titled “Compulsory Heterosexuality and the Lesbian Experience.” So yes, let me make this clear: this term originated in reference to lesbians and feminist theory, and then the idea was later expanded upon to include discussions of gay men by other academics in the early 2000s. I’m not gonna dive too deeply into it here, but in essence–as the name implies–this is the idea that patriarchal and heteronormative societies are viewed as the default, so individuals are assumed (by themselves and otherwise) to be heterosexual until “proven” otherwise. Through these standards that are seen as “normal,” people are also taught from a young age–whether explicitly or subconsciously through society–that anything that deviates from those ~straight norms~ leads to negative consequences. And so, society encourages people to avoid sexual exploration, because having experiences with someone of the same sex is what can often bring their gay identity into focus.

In the case of Black Sails, this is all very much emphasized at the forefront because it’s a historical drama. Aside from racism/slavery, patriarchy and heteronormativity are what the characters are actively going to war against.

So, the point in me defining all of this? No one—or at least, not me—is saying that James didn’t have a sexual relationship with Miranda. That’s not in question. But that doesn’t necessarily make him bi, and it doesn’t mean the narrative isn’t structured in various ways that indicate otherwise.

Just keep this in the back of your brain, because I’m going to circle back around to it.

Anne, Flint, & Gay Rage

In the wise words of an old pirate captain: “Fruit, fruit. Tits, tits.” This show thrives on parallels, and gives us lines / scenes that apply to more than one character; it’s partially why the themes are so consistent, and if you ignore that, you can miss a lot of the nuance. Our resident angry gay gingers are one of the paralleled sets of characters.

This is not a meta about Anne… but talking about parts of Anne’s story can help to highlight some things about James’ story.

I tweeted this once: “Flint and Anne’s sexualities paralleled to show struggles with compulsive heterosexuality, fighting for the sake of fighting, bringing parts of themselves into the light, wrestling with being told they’re monsters and their distorted senses of self, etc.” and really, now I’m just here to elaborate.

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The word “monster” is a recurring theme in this show. It’s tied mostly to Flint and how he is told he is monstrous for loving a man, fears being “the villain” or “monster” in everyone’s stories, and eventually embraces that monstrous portrayal in service of his goals–even as the violence is slowly devastating to him. But the other character the word “monster” is used in reference to? Anne.

A quote by Max:

“Idelle, how would you feel if the one man you thought would never betray you did? If he purchased for himself a future through that betrayal? If you were told by a world full of men that that betrayal confirmed for them that they were right to see you as a monster to be shunned? She's not mad. She is adrift.”

In some ways, this quote is also the story of what has happened to James in his life, over and over. (Not to say this is what Jack intended to do to Anne, but the parallels inherent in Max’s line itself cannot be denied.) 

James is repeatedly betrayed by those he trusts: Admiral Hennessey; Peter Ashe; Hal Gates. All of them try to get him to conform to heteronormative society–including Gates, because even if he didn’t know it, that’s what he was doing by trying to get James to take a pardon. That’s why James reacts with such instinctual panic and kills him; the idea of being forced to apologize to and assimilate back into heteronormative society puts him at a breaking point. (It can even be argued that Miranda “betrays” James in this way too by trying to get him to take a pardon and go to Boston–which is where his “and they called me a monster” speech comes in–and that also contributed to how James later panics and kills Gates for trying to force him to do the same. Miranda tried in a well-meaning way to get James to move on, because she isn’t fully understanding what James wrestles with; but I’ll go back to that.)

Again, these parallels are deliberate. Anne and Flint are the two main gay characters who wrestle with their supposed “monstrosity” in the eyes of everyone else, because they don’t fit in. They are “othered.” It’s not simply about their violence; for these characters, it’s about what their violence is in service of achieving, which is tied to their sexuality.

Anne is seen as a “monster” for slaughtering the men who abused Max, who is not only a fellow woman but also a fellow lesbian, in a way that Anne is undeniably drawn to even before she lets herself acknowledge the feeling. We as viewers are meant to see this and understand this, and we do. Anne is ostracized for violence that was motivated by her sexuality, which is partially why Max tells her that she understands her violence and will protect her–because Max is not only also a woman in a patriarchal society, but she is gay too.

Flint is seen as a “monster” first and foremost by England, for his sexuality… and then, later, by everyone else for the actions he takes because of his sexuality. Again: the violence he commits cannot be divorced from his sexuality because it is the reason for it. It’s what informs it.

I tweeted about this once too, but in many ways Anne and Flint’s kindred displays of brutality and anger and “fighting for the sake of fighting” (a quote by Miranda which applies to them both) are informed by their desire/need for gay tenderness. The world has too often denied them that tenderness and their expressions of their sexualities, or demonized them for wanting it, and their violence is the result. 

Here’s a quote from Deborah Tolman with regards to how compulsory heterosexuality affects men, which she calls “hegemonic masculinity”:

"These norms demand that men deny most emotions, save for anger; be hard at all times and in all ways; engage in objectification of women and sex itself; and participate in the continuum of violence against women."

The anger and hardness is a huge part of the personas both Flint and Anne have to put on for survival. I include Anne in this because she uniquely lives her life in a “male” role to survive the male-dominated world of piracy, and she’s clearly not immune from these unspoken masculine guidelines: she refers to Max as “the whore” half the time as a defense mechanism. Flint and Anne lash out, they’re hard and angry and violent for the sake of their personas, and it’s all because... inside, they just want to be soft and gay with who they love.

Anne, Flint, & Compulsory Heterosexuality (Not Bi Erasure)

In Black Sails, we are shown the story of a gay person who has a consistent sexual relationship with someone of the opposite sex, but is running from internal truths about themselves in some ways in the process. That person is Anne.

Struggling with compulsory heterosexuality is explicitly Anne Bonny’s prime storyline in the show and that is not up for debate (and I’ve rarely seen people disagree); but I argue that it is also part of James’ storyline, and he is paralleled significantly with Anne to make that clear. It’s just overall more subtle because it’s not the prime focus of James’ story the way it is for Anne, because James’ realizations happened largely in the past and we’re seeing the aftermath of it. The parallels are there, and I’ll be breaking some of them down.

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From episode one, we are told that Anne has a sexual relationship with Jack…. But later on, she tells Jack that she “can’t be [his] wife,” even though they’ll be partners forever. Why? What changed? The answer is that she’s been with Max and realized that she’s gay. It doesn’t mean Anne didn’t have sex with a man in the past and even enjoy it on some level, but it does mean that she knows now that she was using that sex partially to distract from things about herself that she was doing her best to ignore.

Multiple lines by Max (to Anne) tell us this:

3x03: “When you and I began you did not choose me. Something that lives inside you beyond choice made it so.”

2x01: “But perhaps there is something else underlying it. Something hiding in a place not even you can see. Perhaps… we would do well to bring it into the light.”

Before I continue, let me remind you of something: when writers decide to show viewers something on screen, that is done with intent, especially in a show like Black Sails where not a single moment is wasted. Remember this. What they show us, and what they don’t show us, are both deliberate choices.

So what are we shown about Anne’s sexual relationship with Jack? We get exactly one scene of her having sex with him. We are shown Anne riding Jack in a way where neither party was particularly enthused. Does this mean they definitely never had sex in the past that they both enjoyed on some level? No. But they showed us this one scene on purpose: to emphasize the stark difference when Anne has enjoyable sex with Max, an experience that forever changes her.

So what are we shown about James’ sexual relationship with Miranda? We get exactly one scene of him having sex with her. It is the most depressing sex scene of all time, James is just lying there to try to be helpful for her to chase her own pleasure, and he doesn’t even touch her. Does this mean they never had sex in the past that they both enjoyed, especially back during their affair in London? No. But we are never shown any of that. We never see them have sex in London before James’ relationship with Thomas; we never see them having good sex with each other after it all goes to hell. And that is a deliberate choice.

Why? Because all of the above info about Anne and her compulsory heterosexuality journey also applies to James McGraw, and his relationships with Miranda and Thomas.

“They paint the world full of shadows... and then tell their children to stay close to the light. Their light. Their reasons, their judgments. Because in the darkness, there be dragons. But it isn't true. We can prove that it isn't true. In the dark, there is discovery, there is possibility, there is freedom in the dark once someone has illuminated it.”

The realizations James came to about his sexuality (just like Anne did) inform much of his tangled story with the Hamiltons, and much of the tragedy of Miranda and James’ situation after the loss of Thomas. We are shown the way James and Miranda are no longer perfectly aligned after that loss, and grief is undeniably a part of it… but it goes beyond that. It’s more complicated than that. 

That sad sex scene is not solely about grief; remember, that scene takes place ten years after they lose Thomas. It takes place during a time where Miranda is already thinking about and will soon actively try to tell James that they need to move on, without understanding why the loss of Thomas affects him in a profoundly different way than it affects her. I am not minimizing her loss or her grief whatsoever; but it is undeniably more complicated for James, and it’s why he can’t move on.

In episode 1x07:

James: “Have you no memory of how we got here? What they took from us?”

Miranda: “What does it matter now? What does it matter? What does it matter what happened then if we have no life now?”

James is, of course, appalled by this. I’ll talk about why momentarily.

The next time James is in Nassau (2x03), he goes to see Miranda and tries to apologize that night, but she’s otherwise engaged. So he stands outside of her window looking in, surrounded by darkness, while she’s playing the clavichord with children in the light. It is symbolically the domestic version of a heterosexual ideal. He is “othered” by the camera angles / framing, and the dark / light aspects. James is relegated to being an outsider literally because as Flint he’s a pirate, but metaphorically because he’s gay; the reason we as viewers are given that scene is to underscore that he feels he has no place in that display.

Ultimately, James is misaligned with Miranda after the loss of Thomas (shown in both the sad sex scene and arguments) in a way that goes beyond grief. The implication is that things cannot ever be the same for him again since the loss of “his truest love” and the truths he learned about himself.

If James and Miranda were simply at odds with one another because of grief, it would be far less of a “tragedy” in some ways. But James cannot heal the way Miranda slowly finds the way to over ten years, because Thomas signifies things for James that Miranda cannot relate to. In London, when Thomas is taken from them, Miranda even yells to James, “He is my husband!” Her grief and rage are shown as equal to James at the start and have extreme validity; the two of them are partners in the plan to kill Alfred Hamilton for revenge; but then she is able to somewhat move on, whereas James is not.

Why? Because, for James, Thomas was not just his (truest) love; Thomas was the awakening of his fullest self as a gay man.

In the same way that Anne can’t be Jack’s “wife” after she’s been with Max and realizes she’s gay, James cannot content himself with fulfilling the role of Miranda’s “husband” after he’s been with Thomas and realizes he’s gay. Neither of these facts minimize Anne’s love and devotion to Jack, or James’ love and devotion to Miranda; they are undeniably two sets of partners. But Anne and James are forever altered by their experiences with same sex lovers, and the truths about themselves that were brought into the light as a result.

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Another part of the tragedy of James and Miranda is what happens right when we see Miranda grasp the significance of all of the above. Whether or not she grasped it before in the past, we are shown it only once on screen, and that’s in Charlestown. 

Peter Ashe says this in 2x09:

“You will tell them about the affair with Thomas. You will tell them how it ended. You will explain to them what it drove you to do. You will reveal everything. And when you do, Captain Flint will be unmasked, the monster slain. And in his place will stand before all the world a flawed man, a man that England can relate to and offer its forgiveness.”

This is James’ worst nightmare; we know as such from what he told Miranda back in 1x07, and from when he killed Gates. And yet, here and now in 2x09, he is exhausted from pushing back against heteronormative society, all he wants is to retire the mantle of Flint born of gay rage, and he actually contemplates playing by their rules and giving into their judgements of his sexuality... until Miranda comes to his defense.

In season 1, Miranda didn’t seem to fully understand James’ thoughts on this, but here–in combination with her realizations about Peter Ashe’s betrayals–she finally does. And she’s not having it.

“What forgiveness are you entitled to while you stand back in the shadows pushing James out in front of the world to be laid bear for the sake of the truth? Tell me, sir, when does the truth about your sins come to light?”

And the moment she is yelling in rage on behalf of James, and their combined loss, and how Peter would dare to force James to experience shame about his sexuality again–she is instantly shot for it. A woman who’s yelling on behalf of a gay man? In a patriarchal heteronormative society? It has no place. England makes that clear.

It all further underlines James’ sense of “otherness”... and now he decides to embrace it, even at his own emotional detriment. He will no longer try to fit in or reason with them; he will no longer accept their halfway measures of pardons. He can’t, because in the eyes of England, all that he is as a gay man is abhorrent.

2x10: “Everyone is a monster to someone. Since you are so convinced that I am yours, I will be it.”

3x05, to the Maroon Queen: “...England takes whatever, whenever, however it wants. Lives. Loves. Labor. Spirits. Homes. It has taken them from me. I imagine that it has taken it from you.”

The Way James Views Miranda

And here is where I simply give you more food for thought–or further “evidence” of James being gay, if you will.

All of Flint’s lines about how he views Miranda are worded very, very deliberately.

Here’s a minor one, from 1x05:

“So you can probably guess it isn't as much fun to tell stories about how your captain makes a home with a nice Puritan woman who shares his love of books.”

There is nothing overtly romantic or sexual about this. It’s said in a one-on-one conversation with Billy, where Flint neither has to make the relationship sound like something it isn’t nor refuse to give any info whatsoever. So he goes with what is the seemingly-mild truth.

But 3x01, convincing the men to forego pardons:

“But what price surrender? To beg forgiveness from a thing that took my woman from me? My friend?”

“My woman” is what Flint says for the benefit of the men… these men who are part of the heteronormative world they all live in, and still value sexual relationships with women above all else. It’s about hegemonic masculinity, remember? (“Objectification of women and sex itself.”) He’s doing his best to speak their language. 

But “my friend” is a secondary line that was not needed for the purposes of this speech, but James could not keep himself from adding it in a quieter tone–because that’s who Miranda was to him. His friend. Not his woman, which drips sexism and sexual undertones. Not his wife. Not even his “love,” which he could’ve used if he wanted to be ambiguous and sneak a Thomas reference in; he said “my woman” to appeal to the men, and then he added “my friend” because in the face of her memory he couldn’t help it.

And lastly, in 3x03, we begin to hear from “ghost Miranda.” 

But what is ghost Miranda? She’s a voice from James’ traumatized mind. Everything she says to him is about truths he already knows and/or things he is hiding from himself. So what “she” says here is a voice from James’ mind; it’s about how James sees her, and subtly elaborates on his sexuality in the process.

“When I first met you, you were so... Unformed. And then I spoke and bade you cast aside your shame, and Captain Flint was born into the world... the part of you that always existed yet never were you willing to allow into the light of day. I was mistress to you when you needed love. I was wife to you when you needed understanding. But first and before all... I was mother. I have known you like no other. So I love you like no other. I will guide you through it, but at its end is where you must leave me. At its end is where you will find the peace that eludes you, and at its end lies the answer you refuse to see.”

This does not diminish Miranda’s importance to James in the least! In fact, it emphasizes it, and it is all part of why he is so ruined over her! But it is also, in the oddest way, an elaboration upon how he isn’t bi: Miranda was his partner in many things, including shared grief and revenge and some semblance of life for ten long years; and she was also was instrumental to his formation of himself as a person (“mother”), and his acceptance of himself as a gay man (“love” and “understanding”). This is how he sees her. Mistress and wife were roles she filled in his life, but above all, she contributed to the birth of Captain Flint–the personification of James’ gay rage.

Of course, the “answer” that ghost Miranda (the depths of James’ brain) alludes to here as well as her later words of “you are not alone” are all about James needing to recognize that Silver is a newfound partner and love for him… but that’s a whole other meta entirely.

Closing Thoughts

Look, did I consult a couple of specific scenes and look up transcripts to put quotes in this? Yes. But have I still only seen the show in its entirety once? Also yes. My point in mentioning this is that, if I did a full rewatch, there might even be more evidence I haven’t mentioned here. This isn’t meant to be comprehensive, but I do feel that it... certainly conveys the gist of the mood.

You may still agree to disagree if you prefer to see James Flint as bi; I’m not here to fight you on it and what queer characters mean to you personally. 

But for me, when surveying all available evidence, the narrative screams that he’s gay. In that sense, my thoughts on this matter are similar to my thoughts on the ending; sure, you can interpret it one way if you look at certain details, but if you take in all the evidence and the big picture as a whole… there’s a specific conclusion to be drawn.

Last thing I’ll say is this: Steinberg himself has said that Flint is gay, which I found out way after watching the show and forming this interpretation. And like... not that if I wanted to hardcore argue he was bi I wouldn’t disregard Steinberg’s words, because in my experience the narrative speaking for itself is always more important than than creators’ words, but... in this instance (as in all Black Sails instances I’ve come across), his words just underscore what the well-crafted narrative is already telling us, because the creators wrote this show with intent. They knew what they were doing.

And thus, I will quote him (from these GIFs) below.

“When we were trying to build the story, we wanted whatever this thing was that made [Flint] feel alienated to be so deeply tied into who he was that there was no way he was every going to dismiss this thing that happened to him. We wanted to make sure we understood what the reality was in England in terms of how homosexuality was perceived. In some ways it was more tolerated, in some ways it was significantly less tolerated. I think in terms of Flint being gay, it’s about the fact that it is a tool that is used politically when convenient to make somebody be a monster… and it isn’t even really about the relationship.”

(If you buy the series on iTunes, you get an “inside” look at every episode, including this one from 2x05.)

EDIT: I had no idea Toby Stephens basically confirmed my thoughts that James' relationship with Thomas was his actualization as a gay man, so excuse me as I lose my mind for a moment:

“I think his relationship to Thomas Hamilton, the initial friendship and then becoming lovers is sort of like the realization of himself. I think he became himself with Thomas Hamilton. His potential was unleashed with Hamilton.”

And just for fun, since I’m here anyway, here’s a piece of a Steinberg quote about Anne from the Fathoms Deep podcast.

“In terms of Rackham and Bonny, I think that was another thing that I assumed for a long time could never go away. That they were essentially, you know, that they were married. You know not legally, but they were functionally married. And then this story happened in Season 2 with Bonny, that I think with like with a gun to my head of things that I’m proud of with the show, probably at the top is this story of this woman coming out and understanding that she’s gay. . . And so when we got to a point where it was like, I think she’s gay? Like I don’t think this is something we want to be wishy-washy about. It required getting over that hump with Rackham of, ‘Well like what am I going to do with this relationship? I don’t want to split them up?’ And I think it became something way more interesting.”

Thanks for coming to my TED talk. I love James Flint and his gay rage, I love you if you read all of this, and I love my friend @sunbardy who dealt with me yelling about this in DMs and then proofread the doc.

Hit me up on Twitter @gaypiracy if you want, where I do most of my Black Sails related yelling. And shitposting. Because I contain multitudes.

Know No Shame, my friends.