#capitalism is going to kill everything if you let it

[wonderwomemes]

They did it

They killed Santa

[bunnihearted]

sorry but ppl on the internet are so naive when they genuinely believe the majority of people "hate capitalism".... that isnt anywhere near the truth. most people are sheep that just go along with what society says is right. when im out there and talk to "normal" people and listen to their convos they are literally pro capitalism. they talk about how the 8-5 work day 5/week is GOOD bc they get to work a lot and make "a lot" of money. many people will complain about unfair work hours and too big of a work load but they dont do anything more than complain... they wont vote for the left, they wont join unions, they wont stage protests or demonstrations... most ppl are like "omg fuck capitalism lmao ahhhaha fuck capitalism am i right???" but they still dont actually do anything to change it... because the entire point with capitalism is that it is comfortable and convenient. netflix and spotify is capitalism. ordering takeout is capitalism. having packages arrive to your door or close by is capitalism. concerts by your fav artists is capitalism. flying a plane to resorts all over the world is capitalism.... ppl only say "fuck capitalism" bc yes they're overworked and underpaid, but they dont actually want to live in a society without capitalism. it would mean a profound change of our entire reality as we've known it for centuries. it would be extreme. it would actually feel like it does in movies where the world is ending and society resets. it's too scary to actually go through with, and no one wants to do that. saving the planet and tearing down capitalism... would mean an extremely different world and life. no more driving your car to work and to the store and to the gym and back and forth to your parents or friends. no more going to multiple concerts every year. no more going to luxury resorts in ibiza or greece. no more online shopping. no more ordering takeout. the truth that nobody wants to admit, because no one wants to admit that they would choose to continue living in comfort even if it means destroying this planet, is that no. you dont hate capitalism. not truly. most people do not hate capitalism. if most people did... we wouldnt have the world we have now and always have had since capitalism was introduced. humans make this world. we get the world we deserve. and nature trying to kill us is what we deserve. it's like when we're sick and our bodies get fever to burn the virus. we are a virus. we could choose to stop. but we dont. only a small handful of people are willing to actually do what it takes to save earth. most ppl who make silly comments about oh my god fuck capitalism tihihihihi are not part of that small amount of people. it is sad, especially for the people who do get it, who do want to save earth, because we are such an extreme minority we have no power at all. the masses win. and the masses have chosen to live in greed and consumerism and comfort even if we'll pay the highest price thinkable.

[hauntingblue]

I loved this movie about nami and her ex situationship reconciling and also anti capitalism

[twilightarcade]

i still can't believe she said that shit to me

[theood]

I get why of course but I also really do not care about trying to force people to sign up for rewards and push donations on them and then also force app downloads all to match a quota/set number because some guy in the Big Office said so like. Not to sound like I'm old and hate technology but the fact I've now been on both sides of this 99% of the time I can guarantee you the customer wanted to get out of there 5 minutes ago and nobody likes doing this and if they REALLY wanted to join the rewards program they'd of done it on their own already.

Or.

They're old and ANOTHER app in their name and on their phone is just going to confuse them more. Where I am working now they STOPPED and or are stopping sending out physical coupons like. I don't know who you think your main customers are but not doing mail out coupons for people and or rewards members is making you lose a good chunk of your customers but okay

[phantomrose96]

What the hell happens in the pikmin game?? Those little colourful bitches have been around for ages, but i never bothered looking them up, i just figured they were cute little mascots of some game. But your posts are making me question everything. Is it a horror game? (I know i could just google it, but asking you is funnier)

Yeah you're right asking me is much funnier :)

Pikmin is a fun and relaxing game! You play as a little astronaut man who gets to spend his days growing Pikmin, who are sweet and peaceful little plant creatures with leaves, buds, or flowers on their heads. You can corral them around with a little trumpet, like a bouquet of flowers following you through the pretty and whimsical landscapes of planet PNF-404 :)

Wait did I say fun and relaxing?

Sorry, typo.

It's a brutal skill-based survival game (❁´◡`❁)

So then maybe you're wondering, what's up with the Pikmin? What was that about growing a bunch of little flower guys? Well growing the Pikmin is super important!

It's super duper important mainly because you need to replace the Pikmin who die in the carnage of battle for you!

Battle against what?

Everything.

See on PNF-404, Pikmin are the bottom of the food chain. Just about every living breathing creature on this planet is orders of magnitude larger than the Pikmin and munch Pikmin by the hundreds for breakfast. Predators will do this instinctively. They will do this unprompted. They will do this while you're not looking. They will do this endlessly until every last Pikmin is dead.

So... what good are the Pikmin? What chance do they stand?

Really easy. Pikmin are the most violent creatures in the entire game 🥰🥰🥰.

How else do you survive when you're small and fragile other than incredible violence? Pikmin can exist out and about in swarms of up to 100. And the only way to survive predators as small little leaf creatures is to beat those predators to death with incredible mob violence before they can kill all of you.

Pikmin don't die like plants. They die like warriors.

And sometimes, this is the hardest mechanic to handle. Left to their own devices Pikmin will seek to shed blood. It's up to you to call them away from orchestrating their own demise, their own pursuit of the glory of Valhalla. It's in their nature. It's in their plant-blood.

And they go down hard. They shriek when snapped up in the jaws of predators. They glub and wail when drowning in water. They trill out screams when on fire. They choke and cough in poison. They die instantly to electricity. And you'll know a Pikmin is well and truly dead once it lets out a final whimper, and a ghost drifts away from where it once stood. This can happen by the dozens. This can happen to all 100 at once.

So wait, wait I've gotten far ahead of myself. Why the violence? Why the death? Why the fighting? What was that about a little astronaut man?

Well your astronaut man is Olimar, an honest and simple family man who's a freight ship captain from his home planet of Hocotate. He's a truck driver! He's just a guy taking his first vacation in years.

And a meteorite strikes his ship, tearing it to pieces as it crash-lands on a completely uncharted planet. Welcome to PNF-404...

And so you're Olimar. A truck driver. A nice dad. A victim of capitalism with the world's worst boss. Out on vacation.

Your ship is destroyed. No one is coming for you. No one will save you.

The oxygen on PNF-404 is poisonous.

You have 30 days before your life support system runs out.

You have 30 days until you die a brutal and lonely death.

Your only hope is to find every scattered missing piece of your ship--30 of them--strewn across the planet, return them to your ship, and repair it, before your 30 days are up.

But this is simply impossible. You're one tiny little man. You wouldn't be able to lift a single piece of your ship, let alone 30 of them, let alone doing so while fending off the wildlife hellbent on killing you.

But the Pikmin seem to like you...

So all that death? All the carnage and destruction? It's all in the effort to repair Olimar's ship before he suffocates. You pave a path of destruction decorated with the bodies of any creature that stands before you and your missing ship pieces.

The Pikmin do it. The Pikmin trust you. The Pikmin follow your command and die by your command. After all, you're growing their species. Oh did I forget to explain that part? The "how" of how growing Pikmin works?

Simple. Pikmin are grown from the corpses of the creatures they kill :).

If you kill something, the Pikmin take it back to their base and process it for pieces, and grow new Pikmin from it. That's how you get all the nice little flower creatures following you around. :)

Is it good enough? Can you sleep at night knowing that 50 creatures who trusted you implicitly were slaughtered under your misdirection? All to retrieve a hunk of metal which is 1/30 of the hope of getting you home alive? 100 slaughtered? 200? Day 30 is approaching. Things are looking bleak.

You're Olimar. Day 30 has arrived, and you haven't fully reconstructed your ship. You have no option to stay. Your life support has run out. You watch the Pikmin you've left behind, as you attempt to start up your ship which has not been safely repaired.

You try to take off, and try to make it home.

It does not go well.

But at least the Pikmin have another corpse to carry.

[pawnshopbleus]

On Top

Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Plinth!Reader

Warnings - Smut, Penis in vagina sex, Cunnilingus, Squirting, Abortion is mentioned once, Angst with a happy ending. Not beta read :0

Authors Note - I think this is the first time I’ve written p in v sex so please bear with me.

Standing in front of the door to the Snow residence, you made sure you had everything. The basket you brought over for Coriolanus and his family was filled with food, gifts, and roses for Grandma’am. You wanted to celebrate Coriolanus’s historic win in this year's Hunger Games. Well, Lucy Grey won, but she wouldn’t have done without your Coriolanus. 

Your knuckles tapped the door three times and you patently waited until the door opened to reveal Grandma’am’s signature snow-white hair. She smiled at you and embraced you. She stepped aside and let you enter the home you had become so familiar with over the years. 

“Grandma’am, I wanted to bring this little gift for Coriolanus’s big win. The flowers are for you, by the way,” you winked and placed the basket on the table. “Speaking of, where might he be.” 

Grandma’am's eyes softened at your comment. “He’s with the dean,” she said, “He will be here any moment. You can wait for him in his room if you’d like.” Grandma’am rushed over to examine a particularly pretty white rose. 

You sat on Coriolanus’s bed tracing hearts on his pillow for what seemed like hours before his door opened. He looked frantic as if someone found out something they weren’t supposed to find.

“Come on, Coryo, you’re supposed to be smiling. Lucy Grey won. Aren’t you happy?” 

“I cheated,” he sighed. 

Your heart stopped. He what? Never in a million years did you think that he would do such a thing. With strong women like Tigris and Grandma’am raising him, you would have thought that he had the decency to break up with a woman before he did that.

Coriolanus shook his head as soon as he realized that you might have been taking his comment in the wrong way. “I cheated in the games. Not on you. I would never do that.” 

Your body relaxed and then it shot back up again. “Wait, what do you mean you cheated in the games? Is that even possible?”

Coriolanus explained what he did in order to get Lucy Grey to win. The compact mirror that used to belong to his mother had been packed with rat poison, poisonous to anyone who came in contact with it. He also put his father's handkerchief which was covered in Lucy Grey's scent in the snake's cage. If the snakes were familiar with her scent then they wouldn’t kill her. So it wasn’t her singing that saved her, it was Coriolanus. 

“What are they going to do to you?” Your eyebrows scrunched together with worry. You couldn’t lose Coriolanus for his stupid, yet chivalrous actions. 

“I don’t know yet. I don’t want to think about the future. Right now, I want to live in the moment with the prettiest girl in all of Panem.” Coriolanus smiled at how your face heated up so quickly, but deep down he was hurting. He knew what his punishment was. Twenty years of service as a peacekeeper in the Districts. He would leave the Capital and everything he’s known since he was a baby. That he could deal with, but losing you would be the hardest thing he would have to deal with. 

He knew that you would run to your father and beg him to get Coriolanus out of serving, but he didn’t want you over-exhausting your father's resources. He was a big boy and he needed to learn how to deal with his consequences. He would be fine. After all, Snow lands on top.  

He wanted to live in this moment with you. He wanted to memorize every inch of your body. He wanted to hold onto that memory and make it last. 

Your smile calmed him. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, eyes focused on your lips.

You nodded your head and smiled into the kiss. It was soft and sensual, vastly different from the kisses that the two of you usually share. Your lips brushed together as your bodies got closer to each other. By the time the two of you broke apart, you were under him, his forearms caging you underneath him. There was no need for him to do that. This is where you wanted to be, with Coriolanus. The toxic and tyrannical world that you lived in was long forgotten as she swooped in for another kiss. 

His lips traveled down to your cheek, then your jaw, and settled on your neck. He spent the majority of his time kissing and nibbling at the skin on your neck. There would be pretty little marks on your skin later, reminding people that you belonged to him. Coriolanus doesn’t remember when he got this territorial, but he sure loved the fact that Strabo Plinth’s beautiful daughter was his girlfriend. His girlfriend to mark and fuck and love whenever he wanted (with your consent of course.) 

You laughed as Coriolanus licked the sensitive patches of skin that he nibbled raw. “My parents are going to kill me when they see what you’ve done.” 

Coriolanus kissed your lips one more time in response to your comment. He then resumed his exploration of your body. His hands traveled down to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up to reveal the bra that he unclasped in less than five seconds. He threw it on the floor of his bedroom, letting it get hooked onto the pile of books in the corner. 

Coriolanus kissed in between the valley of your breasts. He flicked his tongue over your sensitive nipples. It was cold in the Capital of Panem and unfortunately, the Snow’s didn’t have indoor heating. Maybe it was because they didn’t want to melt. 

You sighed in pleasure as Coriolanus continued to explore your breasts. After five minutes of teasing, he began to travel south to the part where you needed him the most. He hooked his fingers into the belt loops of your pants, “may I?” 

You nodded, “Ever the gentleman.”

With your permission, he ripped your pants off of you and threw them on the floor. They were lost in the pile of clothing that had gathered on the floor. Coriolanus had shed some of his clothing as well. His ripped body was adorned in nothing but his white underwear. 

Coriolanus spread your legs apart, “Look at how wet my girl is.” He traced a finger down the cotton of your underwear and slowly slid it up your legs. He wanted to drag this on as much as possible. You let out a grumble of frustration, getting tired of his constant teasing. Coriolanus gave in and got rid of your underwear. 

The same finger that was used to skim the fabric of your underwear was now being used to gather your slick and spread it across your sensitive pussy. You took a deep breath of air into your lungs. The feeling was new, but not unwelcomed. Coriolanus flicked his tongue over your sensitive clit. Your clit was pulsing with need. You needed Coriolanus to drop the act and eat you out like he was a starving man.

“Coriol-” Your word was cut off by a moan as his mouth did exactly what you wanted it to do. Coriolanus delved into your pussy, tracing shapes onto your clit with his tongue. Your back arched off of the bed again. Coriolanus’s fingers teased your hole, trying to find the perfect time to ease into your channel. 

Coriolanus’s fingers weren’t thick, but they were long making it easier for him to tease your G-spot. He fucked his fingers in and out of you as he sucked your clit. You had to bite your lip in order to keep quiet. Your lips were sure to be chewed raw after this, but they would serve as a reminder that you had a man who was willing to do this for you. Many high-society women told stories about their husbands not pleasuring them when they had sex. It sounded like a horrible life to lead, but they were rich and beautiful so they needed to sacrifice something. 

Coriolanus curled his fingers up, letting them knock against your G-spot. He continued to kiss and lick at your clit. You were close. By the way you were clenching down on his fingers, he could tell that the waterworks were coming. Your naked chest rose and fell as you played with your nipples, increasing the pleasure that you felt. Your head fell even deeper into the pillow as a chill ran down your body. That chill eventually led to where Coriolanus was currently still working. He ate your pussy like a starved man, just the way you liked it. 

Without warning, your juices painted Coriolanus’s face. He wasn’t surprised that you came so fast. The last time you had sex was two months ago. You were burning for him and he was burning for you. 

Coriolanus wiped his face with the back of his hand and laughed. That was the first time he had actually made you squirt. It had always been a personal goal of his after Tirgis explained to Coriolanus how a woman's body works. At first, he was traumatized. He didn’t want to have the sex talk with his dear cousin, but when he laid eyes on you for the time, he wanted to do everything Tigris said and more. 

His cock was hard. You could see the outline of it through his white underwear. You would tease him about his tighty whities later. Right now, you were laser-focused on the fact that Coriolanus hooked his thumbs under his waistband and lowered them, exposing his cock to the cold air. His hard cock slapped against his lower stomach. He jerked his cock off, spreading his precum all over his length. He wanted to make sure that it went in as smoothly as possible. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you. 

He lined himself up at your core. He slid his tip up and down your pussy, gathering your slick with his dick before he pushed into you. Your insides welcomed him with little to no problem. The stretch felt good. You were all slicked up and ready for him.

Contraceptives weren’t a problem for you. Coriolanus was always careful and made sure to come somewhere that wasn’t your vagina. You didn’t want to have a kid just yet. First, you wanted to study at the University and travel back to District Two if you were given the chance. Then you wanted to get married. Pereferabbly to Coriolanus, but you didn’t know if that was possible yet. With his fate still undecided, your plans to marry the love of your life dwindled. Besides, even if you were to get pregnant your father would have enough money to get you an abortion

Coriolanus’s head fell forward as he buried his cock in your tight pussy. Two months and he had forgotten how good you felt. Your insides fluttered around him as he bottomed out. 

Coriolanus began to thrust his cock in and out of you. He was methodical with everything he did. Coriolanus set a rhythm as he fucked into you. He fucked you hard and fast. The side of his bed slapped against the wall and his mattress cracked and groaned as he fucked into you. You prayed to the heavens that Grandma’am and Tigris were in a deep sleep. Or that the walls of the Snow residence were thicker than Coriolanus’s cock. 

Coriolanus peppered your mouth with kisses in order to muffle your moans. He kept his pace as he did this. Your breasts jiggled as he fucked into you. Your hands found their way down to your extra-sensitive clit. You circled it with your fingers and moaned in pleasure at the feeling. 

His balls slapped against your ass as his strokes became more deep and labored. He was going to come soon. He needed to come soon. He couldn’t hold on much longer. Two months with no sex had gotten to him. “Fuck,” he said under his breath as your pussy clenched around him. “Where do you want it?” He asked, his voice was strained from trying to keep his composure. 

“Inside me,” you said. You were close too, the feeling of your finger frantically rubbing your clit and the feeling of Coriolanus's cock buried deep inside of you spurred your orgasm to come out from the woodwork.  

You have come a second time, your pussy fluttering and squeezing Coriolanus cock that was still inside of you. A string of curses fell from Coriolanus’s lips as he came inside of you. His pulsing and throbbing cock pushed his come deep inside of you as he continued to fuck you as he came. His thrusts were slow but intentional. He would have lasted a few more seconds, but with the way that your pussy squeezed his sensitive cock, he came instantly. 

Coriolanus slowly eased his cock out of you. The both of you were breathing heavily as Coriolanus went to grab a towel from his closet. He eased your legs open one more time as he cleaned you up. He was slow and gentle with it. He knew that you were still sensitive after two orgasms.

His come eased out of you and onto the towel. The sight almost caused him to get hard, but he didn’t feel like tiring you out even more. 

Once he was done cleaning you up, he tucked you into his chest and covered the two of you with the blankets on his bed. He kissed your forehead and your cheek. Coriolanus’s love language was kissing. He loved kissing you. He loved doing anything with you, but kissing was his favorite. 

Your eyes closed, but you weren’t falling asleep. Not yet. Sex might have been a clever distraction, but now that you were coming off your high you needed to know what will happen to the future of your relationship. 

“Coryo, what is going to happen to you? I know that you know what your punishment is. I'm not stupid.” 

Coriolanus sighed as he tried to keep his voice from waving. He rarely cried, but in moments like these, he did. Just you and him shielded away from the rest of the Capital were his favorite. “Twenty years as a peacekeeper.” 

You let out a shuddering breath as you tried not to cry. Your body ran cold as you repeated those words in your mind. Twenty years as a peacekeeper. Twenty years without your Coriolanus. Your Coryo. 

“My dad can-” 

“No,” Coriolanus said. “I don’t want your dad to get me out of this one. I need to learn how to do things on my own.”

“What if I had a crazy elaborate plan to get you out of it?”

“Nothing could be crazier than this.” Coriolanus got this crazy idea. It has been sitting in the back of his mind ever since you agreed to be his girlfriend. “Marry me?” 

This isn’t how he wanted to propose to you. He had already gotten your father's approval months ago. You were perfect for him and you deserve a perfect proposal. He wanted to take you to a fancy restaurant, get down on one knee, and ask you that way. Traditional and expected of Capital people, but things never go as planned when you’re a Snow. 

“Seriously?” You were in disbelief. Of course, you wanted to marry him, but this all seemed a bit rushed. “I mean, yes, I’ll marry you, but Coryo. You’re about to leave.” Then, your brilliant mind comes up with the perfect plan. 

You’ll marry Coriolanus, making him one of the heirs to the Plinth fortune. Thus making him more valuable to the Capital. This way you get to marry the love of your life and keep him within arms reach. Were you being possessive? Maybe, but it was better than the dean having to deal with an angry Plinth. 

And your plan worked. You and Coriolanus got married a week after he proposed to you. It was a bit rushed, but the two of you were ready. He was going to be a loving husband, and you, a loving wife. Coriolanus’s punishment would be reduced to two months of training in District Two. He would then return to the Capital as a peacekeeper. He would keep the peace during the day and return to you at night. 

Turns out Snow does land on top.

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

Time to study up on straight people sex!

[blueteller]

You know... I often think about the fact that out of all events in TCF? Rescuing Raon was the most important.

It wasn't just because Cale got himself a "Draco Ex Machina" at his side that could use OP magic at his convenience. He could have used tools or Rosalyn's magic instead, at the beginning at least. We saw how he planned ahead and used an enchanted tool to make Taylor and Cage invisible to sneak them into the capital.

It wasn't just because through Raon, Cale was able to make connection with Eruhaben and later Sheritt and many other Dragons. They were important for their victory, but Cale could have gotten in contact with them through other ways – Pendrick, for example.

It wasn't just because Raon could detect things like dead mana or magical traps and disguises – even if Rosalyn wouldn't be able to, Cale would have probably figured out Alberu's connection to Dark Elves sooner or later. He already had suspicions about "a secret to his birth" before Raon mentioned the dyed hair.

Yes, those thing mattered, don't get me wrong. But, out of all the changes Cale made after his transmigration – saving Raon was the event that truly changed the whole game... not for the world, but for Cale himself.

Raon was, in many instances, the pushing force behind Cale's motivation to participate in various events. Slacker life? Cale's wishful thinking. But the motivation to actively get people involved – like Mary, for example. Raon was the one who cheered Cale on, kept him company through everything, especially the tough times. Raon was the one who, along with On and Hong, melted Cale's heart the fastest, getting this stubborn, traumatized man to admit they were "family". It's not that he wouldn't be a good man doing good things without Raon; but without Raon he would be in a lot more denial (even more than he already is!!) about why he is doing such things.

Raon represents everything Cale loves about his new life. The joy, the hope for the future, the curiosity and enthusiasm. Yes Cale often acts tired of (or freaks out over) Raon's antics or pretends to ignore him. But in the end... he never actually does. Cale never stops paying attention to him or tells him to go away.

Raon was the one who truly "got under his skin", so to speak. Cale wholeheartedly trusts and respects Raon. Of course, Raon is still a child under his protection... The reason why Cale always insisted on him staying hidden, throughout most of their adventures. I remember the moment Cale got the Dragon Blood Drinking Crown, and his first reaction was "let's throw this away/destroy it". The utter repulsion towards anything that could be a danger to Raon, despite how potentially useful such an artifact could be, logic be damned. Or that moment when they met the White Star for the first time, the villain telling Cale how he would kill the child and feed his heart to him – how Cale outwardly showed terror for the first time in the whole novel, instantly hugging Raon close to him and activating the shield to its fullest.

That's what really gets to me, you know? Raon's protectiveness for Cale is so obvious, but Cale is just as protective of him in return. I truly believe that while all relationships that Cale had shaped him as a person (just like the God of Death stated in his letter to him), the relationship between Cale and Raon is one that shaped them both in equal measure on both sides.

This relationship between them feels like fate, and that's no accident.

Changing Raon's fate was fundamental for saving the world, yes. But it equally important for Cale's own growth. An event which happened right at the beginning on the story, shaped the course of the entire future.

[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

Star Shoes

"Things had been going so well for him lately. He should have expected the other shoe to drop. Or the metal pipe in this case."

In which Danny and his totally normal boyfriend who is definitely not Red Hood are abducted by cultists. Danny is super concussed, but he's got the spirit.

@deadonmayn Day 2: Jason Has Magic | Ritual | Danny and Jason are abducted by the same cult | "You were never monstrous to me."

AO3 Link

   One day! Danny had asked for just one day! One day free from ghosts and vigilante stuff! A single day off! Was that too much to ask?

    In retrospect, he should have known something bad would happen. Things had been going too well for him lately. 

   Six months ago he began his degree in astrophysics at Gotham University. Since moving to Gotham, Danny and his apartment had yet to be caught in any sort of rogue attack or crime. It was certainly odd considering he was living in the crime capital of the country, but Danny decided he would take it.

   Most of his classes were able to be taken online, which was much more accommodating for Danny’s schedule. Sometimes a baby ancient of space just had to stretch themselves out amongst the stars and let their form slip. Frostbite said it was important for his development. He even offered to write Danny a doctor's note, but something told him it wouldn’t go over well with the school. 

   Danny Fenton requires up to five days of star exposure per month or else he breaks out in fins and eyes that may cause you feelings of cosmic terror. Please excuse him from lecture.

   Yeah. That would work.

   He didn’t need a note if the lectures were online anyway.

   The online lectures were also easier for him on bad tremor days. Sometimes his legs would ache and shake and randomly lock too much for him to walk. It was so much easier to float on those days and just… let loose. His human visage had begun to feel too small and restricting. He could put up with it normally but it itched. It was harder to stay restrained when he also had to deal with the tremors. Luckily for him, the bad days had been decreasing lately.

    By far the best part of the past six months was Danny’s new boyfriend. Jason was great! Better than great! Jason was amazing! They had only been dating for a month but Danny swore if anything happened to Jason he would kill everyone in Gotham and then himself (again). He had a sharp way with words that never failed to make Danny laugh, and though he may seem rude and grumpy on the outside, he was secretly a big sweetheart. 

   Danny had once seen him cry because of a feral (possibly radioactive) Gotham rat that was “just too small”. 

   There’s really no repairing your facade after that.

   Truly, Jason was everything Danny could ask for in a boyfriend. Danny had worried that the questionable functionality of his legs would be a turn-off, but he had been pleasantly surprised. Jason never pushed him past his limits, in fact, he fought to keep Danny from doing so. On the bad days, Jason would make him soup and drape heating pads over his limbs. He would knead his knuckles into Danny’s muscles and press kisses to his trembling fingers. It didn’t make the bad days stop, but they became more bearable. 

   Danny was so lucky.

   So really, he should have expected the other shoe to drop.

   Or the metal pipe in this case.

   Groaning, Danny struggled to open his eyes. His head hurt like he had been doing shots for twelve straight hours and his mouth tasted like iron. He must have bitten his tongue. Or lost a tooth. They grew back so fast that it was honestly hard to tell. 

  “D…n..”

   Someone was talking.

   “Da…n…”

   Someone needed to shut up. Danny hated that name.

   “D…ny!”

   Ugh. 

   Vision swimming, Danny peeled open his eyelids. This… he was in a pawnshop? Why was he in a pawnshop?

   “Danny!”

   Oh. 

   Jason is here.

   Hi Jason!

   “Hey, baby,” Jason huffed in amusement.

   Did he say that out loud? Fuck. He probably has a concussion.

   “I’d be surprised if you didn’t with all the blood on your head.” 

   Blood? Danny tries to feel his face for it but instead finds his hands bound behind his back. He struggles to free them, not accomplishing much besides wiggling around on the carpet like a sad worm. He pauses once for breath and then resumes his wiggling in earnest.

   Now hypothetically, Danny could just phase out of the restraints. One issue…

   Jason was completely in the dark about the whole Phantom thing. They had only been dating for a month and like- how could Danny even bring that up? 

   Hey, just so you know I’ve died before and I’m technically still dead depending on how you think of it? Apparently I’m also a baby god which is news to me too so if that’s distressing for you imagine how I feel! And while we’re at it, I should let you know that your entire concept of the afterlife is probably wrong. Enjoy that crisis!

   Okay, so Danny wouldn’t use those words exactly but that’s the gist of it. It’s some world-changing information and people have been dumped for less. Danny doesn’t want to scare Jason off!

   And even if he was fine after that conversation, what about Danny’s other form? The one that Frostbite keeps calling his true form? It was… a lot, and he hadn’t been joking about the cosmic terror. If he were being honest, Danny barely felt human some days. 

   Danny allows his head to fall back to the floor with a thunk.

   “Careful, darlin’,” Jason sounded concerned from where he was bound adjacent to him, “I think it's stopped bleeding. Don’t want you to open it again.”

   “It’s fine. Worse than it looks.”

   “...Do you mean better than it looks?”

   “Yeah, that. Head wounds bleed a lot.”

   It really was better than it looked. With Danny’s healing, it was probably entirely gone by now. 

   Jason looks like he is about to say something else when the backdoor opens. 

   In comes the most stereotypical cultists Danny has ever seen in his life. Actually, they were stereotypical but worse. The robes they wore looked plasticy and the black was off with a gross yellow undertone. Overall it was giving purchased off some shitty cheap website vibes. Like Wish. 

   They circle around Danny and Jason so perfectly synchronized that Danny knows they had to have practiced this. He imagines them running through their steps as if they were practicing for a dance recital. Did they have a choreographer?

   “Why would we have a choreographer?”

   Oh, Danny is speaking out loud again. Did he say the stuff about the robes?

   “What’s wrong with our robes?!”

   “I love you, baby, but I need you to shut the fuck up.”

   Understandable. Have a nice day.

   Danny passes out.

   When he wakes up again they are in a different room. Jason is struggling against a cloak’s hold and cursing up a storm in true Jason fashion. The cultists look a little worse for wear. The one holding his boyfriend looks like he might have gotten into a fight with a weedwhacker. 

   “Touch one hair on his head and I’ll fucking kill you!” Jason snarls.

   He’s largely ignored by the cultists who continue with their preparations.

   Danny finally takes stock of where he’s at. He’s still on the floor, but the carpet feels slightly different. The room is bare compared to the one they were in before. A desk and office chair are pushed against the wall to make room for the summoning circle. A summoning circle that Danny was currently resting in. As an offering. Great.

   Flashing lights distract him from their predicament.

   The guy closest to Danny was wearing light-up sneakers. Danny didn’t even know they made those for adults. Neat!

   “Hey man, where did you get your shoes?”

   He can’t see the cultist’s face but he assumes he’s raised an eyebrow with the way the hood crooks to the side.

   Danny genuinely wants to know! The lights look like little stars blinking in the darkness. He has to have them.

   Danny is about to ask again but is cut off by a loud curse. 

   Jason? 

   Jason!

   Danny has to save Jason!

   He growls, eyes flashing for the briefest of moments before he can tone them down. Jason can’t know about Phantom. He’ll have to figure something else out. Actually, he might not need to figure anything out! Depending on who this circle summons this could be a nonissue. 

   Danny cranes his head to look at the circle. 

   Groaning, he allows his head to fall back against the floor for the third time that night. 

   This isn’t just any summoning circle. This is his summoning circle.

   He lifts his head again to double check and yup, these idiots are using him as an offering for himself. Great job. Gold star.

  This is both good and bad. Good because they are in no immediate danger outside of the world’s worst Grim Reaper cosplayers. Bad because Eldritch horror.

   If these yahoos actually go through with the ritual and summon Danny, he’ll be forced into his ancient form in front of Jason. Probably. Danny wasn’t entirely sure that the ritual would work in the first place what with him already being there.

   Danny spends too long thinking about the summoning logistics and not enough time actually stopping it. Before he can come up with a plan the cultists are chanting. He can feel the tug in his chest getting stronger and fins pushing against his skin. This was happening whether Danny wanted it to or not.

   “Jason, close your eyes!”

   “Danny!” Jason was still squirming in Weedwhacker’s hold and valiantly trying to get to Danny. His teeth snapped dangerously close to the cloak’s fingers. Ancients, Danny loved his boyfriend.

   “Trust me, Jason!” Danny yelled, choking down the mist trying to escape from between his shark-like teeth, “Close your eyes!”

   With one last glance to verify that his boyfriend’s eyes are squeezed shut, Danny lets go.

   His very being unravels.

   It feels good to be this big, no longer vacuum-sealed into a too-small bag. The fins along his tail flick, stretching now that they are no longer confined. The luminescent lights travel up and down them as if doing a calibration run. His body parts disappear into fine vapor whenever they move before reforming in their new positions. The very pulse of the universe thrums in his chest. He can feel so much. He can see so much. He lets out a cool, dead, misty breath.

   His eyes open.

   The screaming starts. 

   Danny grins, displaying his sharp teeth proudly. He flies through the air, knocking person after person to the ground. They fall like blades of wheat to a scythe, small and inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. Just a speck in the eye of a giant. 

   Jason’s eyes are still closed. Good.

   Danny plucks him from Weedwhacker, setting him gently to the side. He can’t stop himself from getting into Weewhacker's face and screeching. He watches with satisfaction as he crumples to the ground seizing.

   The screaming eventually stops, the cultists catatonic on the carpet. Jason’s eyes are tightly shut. He’s breathing heavily, unmoving from where Danny had placed him. 

   Softly, ever so softly, Danny covers Jason’s eyes with his hands, careful not to prick him with his claws. He winds himself up tight, shoving himself back into his body like clothing in an overpacked suitcase. Gradually his claws shrink back into normal human digits. 

   His fingers shake with familiar tremors, still covering his boyfriend's eyes. Danny breathes shakily as Jason’s hands slide over his own.

   “Danny?”

   “Yeah.” 

   “Can I open my eyes now?”

   He swallows hard, mentally preparing himself. Jason’s going to leave. Jason heard the screaming and felt his claws. He’ll see the cultists and know what he’s done. Jason knows what Danny truly is and he is going to leave.

   “...Yeah,” it already sounds heartbroken as it leaves his lips.

   Jason’s hands take Danny’s with care, removing them from over his eyes. He blinks, surveying the room and Danny knows this is it. He’s waiting for the look of horror or sneer of disgust he has become so achingly familiar with. 

   Jason’s eyes meet his own.

   “Hey baby,” He presses kisses to Danny’s quivering fingertips with careful affection. Just like on the bad days…

   Danny sniffles, turning away with watery eyes and grit teeth. He wasn’t expecting this last scrap of kindness from Jason. 

   “No no no,” Jason squeezes his hands with gentle pressure. Not enough to hurt, never enough to hurt. “Look at me, Danny. Please?”

   Danny’s head pounds, his vision is blurry, his skin itches, and his heart hurts. He just wants this night to be over. But he could never deny Jason. 

    Jason smiles at him, hands coming to rest on his cheeks. He wipes a stray tear away with his thumb, smudging some dried blood away with it. 

   “There you are, handsome.”

   More tears race down Danny’s face. His voice cracks, “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

   “What don’t you understand, baby?” Jason asks, checking his hair for a wound that’s probably already gone.

   “You’re still here.”

   Jason pauses his minstations, “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

   “I-” Danny stops, addled brain thinking. Jason waits patiently for him to form the words, “I’m wrong. I’m not supposed to be like this,” Danny’s not sure how much sense he actually makes between the persistent concussion and rampant emotions, “I’m a monster.”

   The look in Jason’s eyes turned steely, “You're not a monster, Danny.”

   “But-”

   “No buts. You're not a monster. You wanna know how I know?”

    Danny remained silent, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Jason considers him for a minute then continues anyway.

   “I’ve seen monsters before. Monsters do awful things with only themselves in mind. Monsters go out looking for someone to hurt just because they can.” 

   Danny turns to look away again. It doesn’t matter that the timeline is gone or if he’s trapped in a thermos, the very concept of Dan will always haunt Danny.

 “Danny,” Jason redirects his attention, gently turning his face back to him. Danny’s not prepared for the pure unbridled devotion in his eyes.

   “You are the most selfless person I’ve ever met. You go so far out of your way to help others even when it becomes an inconvenience to you. It doesn’t matter if they are a stranger or not. Sometimes I worry you're going to get yourself kidnapped.” 

  Like today goes unsaid. Jason looks like he’s on the verge of tears too.

   “You were never monstrous to me, and you never will be. How could you possibly be a monster?”

   Danny sniffles again, leaning into his boyfriend’s touch. Jason readily accepts him into his arms, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

   “Sorry…” Danny finally mumbles into his… shirt? Whatever Jason is wearing feels hard against his cheek. Danny doesn’t really care. His head hurts too much to think about it, “I shoulda told you.”

    Jason quietly laughs, “Technically you still haven’t told me anything.”

   Danny nods solemnly, wiping the last of his tears away, “Complicated.”

   “Yeah, I get that,” he scoops Danny effortlessly into a bridal carry. 

   Danny yelps as the movement jostles his head. Jason makes a sound of apology.

   His boyfriend’s eyes scan the room again, “How about you explain it all to me when you're no longer concussed? Besides, I have some things I need to explain to you too.”

   “Sounds good,” Danny slurs as Jason walks them to the door.

   They are about to step over the threshold when Danny suddenly REMEMBERS.

   “WAIT!”

   Jason startles, looking around wildly, “What?! What is it?!”

   “The shoes!” 

   “The shoes?”

   “Yeah! The shoes! The star shoes!” 

   “...do you mean the light-up sneakers?”

   Danny pouts at him but nods anyway, “The star shoes.”

   “The star shoes, then,” Jason easily confirms, “What about them?”

   “I need to take em.”

    Jason grimaces, “...Why? I can just buy you your own pair.”

   “No! It’s not the same!” Danny whined, “They summoned me using me as an offering. I didn’t actually get anything!”

   “Okay, I’ll go get his shoes-”

   “My shoes.”

   Jason laughs, setting him down on the table just outside the door, “Wait here.”

   Danny waits. His vision is still swimming in a blur of colors. Colors. He’s pretty sure he can taste colors now. The dull brown carpet is disgusting. 

   Jason remerges victoriously with star shoes in hand. Danny cheers, immediately making grabby hands. Jason passes them over with a look of mild disgust.

   “You ready to go now?”

   Danny bats his eyelashes, throwing his arms (and shoes!) over Jason’s shoulders and around his neck. He presses in to rub his nose against his boyfriend’s, “Take me home?”

  “Of course.”

Danny had the best boyfriend.

[keemitthefeog]

literally you cant beat it. the bad kids, who have shown that they excel at real adventure and real combat, get to do a practical exam mixed with academics (which suits them fine bc even without the meta answering, adaine and riz are nerds), AND THEY BLOW IT OUT OF THE PARK!!

they do the best job anyone has ever done.

what made this episode so perfect, besides great gags, even better rolls, and tons of mini-maxi map work, was that it cemented that not only are these our protagonists, but the bad kids are Protagonists with a capital P.

they hear gavin say no one has lasted for the whole thing. they said bet. and they WON. they do everything that they do best. fig, gorgug, fabian, and riz do crazyyy damage, with brilliant support from adaine and kristen (who also do sick shit and great damage).

like the oracle she is adaine jumps in with dust mephits that go out with a bang, a portent crit for fig, scattering the players and gavin to exactly where they need to be.

figs spirit guardians whirling around her like a whole 'nother attack, accruing the biggest kill count of the exam, sticking to the skies on her daymare so nothing gets the drop on her friends or gavin.

riz has got the range and his eyes on all corners of the map, ready to take the shots that make or break all the effort they went to protecting the proctor.

fabian and the hangman danced across the arena, taking out the hydra before it even took a turn, stabbing out the umber hulk's eye, and besting the crab man.

gorgug stays in the same place like the tank he is, defending a one gateway making it so not a single enemy is able to advance past him or his friends, INCLUDING A PURPLE WORM.

and kristen, like a guardian angel, kept up bless the entire exam, saving the rolls of every person multiple times, healing them (cough fabian), and with the shards of her dead god she destroyed an army of skeletons and vanished a manticore whos going to try and better himself. and of course, ally's crazy roleplaying instincts let them catch the insane bit of sabotage.

its all love now.

[booksandabeer]

Celebrating 10 Years of CA:TWS — A Stucky Rec List

Rec list for the CA:TWS 10th Anniversary Event @catws-anniversary (thank you so much for organizing this event! 💙) | Prompt: Memories

10 years, huh? 10 years of Captain America: The Winter Soldier. 10 years of what many—myself included—still consider to be the best MCU movie ever made.

But also 10 years of post-TWS fanfiction. 10 years of Bucky Barnes Recovering and Steve Rogers' Sadness Errands; of Up All Night to Get Bucky and Revenge Road Trips; of Winter Soldier Trauma Umbrellas and Everybody Needing A Goddamn Hug; of Good Bros and Soft Epilogues. 10 years and tens of thousands of Steve/Bucky fics later, here we are.

So, to mark the occasion, let's take a trip down memory lane and celebrate the movie and the stories it inspired: One fic from each year since it all began:

There's really only one rule here: All fics are set before, during, or after the events of CA:TWS and/or reimagine its plot in interesting ways. Naturally, many of the fics on this list are post-TWS canon divergent, but I tried to go for a nice variety of length, genre, and popularity to keep it interesting. Speaking of popularity, this is very much not intended as a round-up of ‘most popular fics of each year’ because—and I say this with all the love and respect in my heart for those stories and their authors—nobody needs a rec list for that, and I believe in spreading the love. Here we go:

Poltergeists by enemyofrome | 17K, T

Author's summary: When the helicarriers blow up and the Winter Soldier goes on the run, he takes Steve with him. He's got a name written in Morse code on the inside of his arm, a ton of questions he doesn't know how to ask, and now, a new handler with absolutely zero sense of self-preservation to contend with. Life is hard. In which Bucky tries to figure out whether he's a human being, Steve does everything he can to keep from losing him again, and there are lots of explosions.

Starting off with one of the best versions of the 'Bucky didn't leave Steve, he took him with him after the Potomac' fics that were (and still are!) so popular post-TWS. This one stands out because of its fantastic beginning, its interesting take on how Bucky was broken and remade into the Winter Soldier, and because it allows both characters to be messy. It's a popular fanon trope that it's Steve who brings out a ruthless, almost vicious streak in Bucky, but here it's emphasized that this is very much a mutual thing. Just like Bucky, who's often afforded the "excuse" of still figuring out how to be a person again, Steve gets to be difficult here—without ever turning him into a stubborn asshole. They're both traumatized, and they're both allowed to show it and to lash out, including at each other. Also, this fic will give you capital-F Feelings about morse codes and apples. Believe me.

sleepwalk back to the battle site by ftmsteverogers | 22K, T

Author's summary: “I’m going to track down every HYDRA agent that’s left,” Bucky says, buckling his gun deftly to his belt. “And then I’m going to kill them.” “Oh,” Steve says. “Come with me?” Bucky asks, dangerous hands tucked into his pockets.

A classic post-TWS fic that picks up right after the movie ends. Equal parts Revenge Roadtrip, Bucky Barnes recovering, and Steve Rogers being in urgent need of a good hug. This starts out intensely melancholic—Steve's despair and helplessness are palpable and there's a scene involving a drinking glass that still brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it. Halfway through, the story changes pace and becomes much more action-heavy, but it still manages to allow space for the quiet, intimate moments between Steve and Bucky. They have both become sharp and deadly men, but they're also allowed to be soft with each other. Their coming together feels sweet and inevitable. I also really enjoyed the Steve characterization here. His absolute conviction that Bucky is still Bucky at his very core and always will be, but also his emotional and intellectual flexibility to adapt to this still-new-to-him, changed version of Bucky rang very true to me.   

Surveillance by Sproings, 7K in 2 parts, G

Author's summary: If there are ears everywhere, that means it's somebody's job to listen. I hate my job.

Do you ever think about how SHIELD bugged Steves DC apartment and how horrible that was, but also...you're kind of curious what they might have overheard? Do you ever wonder about the people who listened in on his sad, lonely life? Well, here you go. An outsider POV fic told "through the ears" of an unnamed SHIELD agent assigned to spy on the private life of a man who doesn't really have much of one. The story begins just before IM3 and takes us all the way through the events of CA:TWS and beyond. It's clever, original and told with great empathy for both the subject under surveillance and the person carrying out that surveillance—who increasingly questions its purpose. Here's a small snippet to give you an idea of the fic's style:

He got a phone call, once. He put it on speaker, too, which was very exciting for me at the time. It was from an archivist at the Smithsonian. They seemed really surprised that he answered his own phone calls. The two of them talked for a long time about an exhibit the museum was planning. A very long time. As if one of them was starstruck, and the other was desperate for any kind of human interaction.

What Gets You Through by velleities | 12K, M

Author's summary: For Steve, getting through each day is a process – one he’s currently failing at spectacularly. Feeling out of place in this brave new world, he hopes to find a home in Bucky, and looks for him with everything he’s got. But Bucky doesn’t want to be found, and when he does touch base with Steve, he never sticks around for long. Bucky has embraced the modern age, leaving Steve lagging behind – or so Steve believes, until Bucky shows him otherwise.

This post-TWS fic revolves around five encounters in liminal spaces, and each time Bucky has pieced himself back together again just a little more. Despite their increasingly longer and more honest conversations, and Bucky's incremental progress, he always disappears again, leaving Steve to grapple with his heartbreak. There are quietly gorgeous moments in this fic (the bus and the church in particular were my personal favorites) as well as wonderfully crafted characterizations. Bucky is initially portrayed as somewhat feral in some ways yet surprisingly well-adjusted in others, and I love that Steve can't help but be a little annoyed at that. However, it quickly becomes clear that, in good old Bucky Barnes fashion, much of it is really just a front put up for Steve's benefit...

A Real Boy by itsnotbleak | 5K, T

Author's summary: It took the Winter Soldier three weeks to remember that human beings needed to sleep and eat. It took Steve far too long to realise the Winter Soldier was sleeping in his bed.

A wonderful, short-but-doesn't-feel-like-it fic (in the very best way) set immediately after CA:TWS, in which Bucky secretly and then soon not so secretly visits Steve in his apartment. Follow along as Bucky Barnes argues with his brain about sandwich toppings, the importance of a good night's sleep, and the necessity of personal hygiene. Also: how to best go about becoming a real boy (again). And who the hell is that Bucky guy anway? This is as soft and sweet a Bucky recovery fic as you're ever going to find. It's funny but not silly; sad in a way that all of these stories inherently are—because, well, these are some tragic boys—but not super angsty or depressing. A beautiful story with a lovely, hopeful ending.

Savage God by PottersPink | 36K, M

Author's summary (abbr.): Past, present, future, Steve knows Bucky Barnes. It’s why he recognized him when he found him in that alley in April of 1942, even though Bucky was older, stronger, wearier; he called himself The Asset, and had a metal fucking arm. He flinched when Steve tried to touch him, and when Steve told him he loved him, his first response was to ask why. Seventy years later, Steve wakes up in the twenty-first century, and he doesn’t know whether to be heartbroken or hopeful when some of the things Bucky revealed to him in 1942 start falling into place.

An absolutely riveting AU that will have you on the edge of your seat the whole time. I'm itching to talk about it more but I cannot since it would mean spoiling the hell out of it. What I can say is that it's a very intriguing and clever exploration of what would happen if Steve knew about the future but without really knowing any of the details. How would it change the events of CA:TFA and CA:TWS, and how would it change Steve himself? I so very much appreciate this characterization of Steve as smart, competent, and unwavering with a hefty dose of no fucks left to give. This fic features some really nifty time travel and plotting, great action sequences and a very satisfying ending where certain people get their much-deserved comeuppance. Plus: Bonus Shrinkyclinks (kind of)!

Charlie Lock by seapigeon | 105K, M (hard M)

Author's summary (abbr.): The Winter Soldier knows that sometimes, in order to make the kill, you must destroy what the Target lives for. Steve Rogers knows that he can't fight his captors. If he fights, they'll kill Bucky. But the price of his life is steep. Tony Stark has nothing left to live for, but he's needed. So all these miserable motherfuckers better stay alive, too. Clint Barton never expected to be a leader. But a leader he is, and no one else is going to die on his watch. --- A story in which the first wave of Project Insight succeeds, and the Avengers must pick up the pieces and find a way to stop Hydra from completing its work with Zola's algorithm.

This is not only the longest fic on this list, but also the angstiest one—by a mile, so please heed the tags. It's dark, disturbing, and brutal. However, it is neither relentless misery porn nor is it shocking for shock's sake, where everything is magically forgotten and/or healed the moment Steve and Bucky start kissing. Instead, the author puts these characters into an absolutely horrifying situation and then slowly, gently guides them out of it and into the light.

It's a Stucky fic but it's also a multi-POV ensemble piece featuring all the Avengers and other familiar faces. If you are someone who'll always be a little bitter about the unfulfilled promise of an Avengers found family, then this is for you. In this AU, they do not only fight together, but grow together in every way. They truly become a team, not just co-workers barely tolerating each other. The story takes its time exploring the characters and the group dynamics. Steve and Bucky are definitely at the center of the narrative but there is space here for every member of the team to grieve and adjust to the new reality and to find at least some measure of healing. It's a story about the meaning and the consequences of revenge, about hope and resilience, and about love in all its many forms. It also has one of the most satisfying title drops that will have you pump your fist in triumph when it happens. It's a tough read, but ultimately a very rewarding one.

SPELEVINK by Ginny_Potter | 10K, G

Author's summary: Bucky’s back. He’s leaving me messages through IKEA plushies, Steve texts Sam. jesus christ, rogers, Sam texts back. Or, Bucky lives in an IKEA Tiny Apartment, Steve is a dancing monkey once again, and somehow they find their way back to each other.

This is an absolute DELIGHT of a fic that will have you alternately laughing out loud and crying quietly into your SVARTFIBBLA blanket (super-soft, recycled polyester, 47x63"). It's ‘crack treated seriously’ at its very best and a clear homage to the fandom classic Infinite Coffee… (that’s not a dig or a spoiler, the author says so in the author’s note).

Now if you know me, you’ll know that angst o’clock is my happy hour and I’m usually not very into these heavy-on the-humor quasi-absurdist fics (because I’m super special and not like all the other girls, obviously). But. I LOVED this story so, so much. It’s such a fun read—even when it makes you cry—and it really became one of those ‘huh, I guess I’m into this after all’ moments of joyful (self)discovery via fanfic for me. I never thought a pair of oven mitts could move me like that, and I'll never be able to walk into an IKEA again without muttering "F******!" under my breath (iykyk). Absolutely fantastic.

a handful of dust by RecoveringTheSatellites | 20K, M

Author's summary: Steve looks for Bucky for a long time. But the thing is that Bucky doesn't get found, Bucky finds. Bucky always finds Steve. This takes a hard left after the Potomac and stumbles through the dark a lot after. Take a bit of running, the occasional synaptic misfire, the resurfacing of old memories, a dash or two of PTSD, and (eventually) a nice dose of action, stir, and serve over some unresolved issues.

Honestly, the second paragraph up there perfectly sums up the story. It's a good ol' fashioned Bucky recovery fic with some angst, some action, and a whole lot of healing and devotion. Steve and Bucky get to be very sappy about each other, but also extremely Badass Battle Boyfriends™ when somebody threatens their hard-won happiness. Both are allowed to be messy, unstable, and very co-dependent.

This was the first time this author played in the Stucky sandbox and I mean it 100% as a compliment when I say that you can tell. This is someone with "fresh legs" diving headfirst and very deep into the Stucky trope pool and they're doing it with great relish and enthusiam. The result is a story that rejects some of the tried and true conventions of the post-TWS fanfic canon and lovingly embraces others, but that is definitely aware of and in dialogue with the body of work that came before it. Also, it's just a really fun read that gives these two the very soft ending they deserve.

Everybody is Supposed to be Dead by pollutedstar | 22K, M

Author's summary: In 1944, Bucky Barnes falls off a train into the Alps, missing and presumed dead. Months later, Steve Rogers nosedives a plane into the arctic. In 2010, the Winter Soldier project is uncovered by S.H.I.E.L.D., and Bucky Barnes is found alive. Three years later, Steve Rogers’ frozen body is found in the ocean.

A really interesting AU and a fascinating exploration of what could’ve been; the impact it would’ve had on the events and characters if Bucky had been the one to be “found” first. How would it affect Steve to come back into a world where he isn’t quite so lonely and adrift, and where he does have the relief and reassurance of having Bucky by his side and at his back? How would that have changed the way he acted and reacted to this strange new world and the people and organizations trying to recruit him to their cause even though the ice hasn't even completely melted off his body yet?

There are a lot of astute and precise observations about characters like Tony, Natasha, and Clint in this story, and on top of that, it offers up some very compelling insights into Steve's conflicted and difficult relationship with his role as Captain America.

it's never over (hey orpheus) by romcommie | 12K WIP, 2/?, M

Author's summary: He remembers a song first and then everything else follows, burying him below. Or, Bucky Barnes pieces a life back together with a few choice verses, some duct tape and seventy years worth of spite. Steve Rogers tries very hard to relearn there's a life to be lived in the first place.

Ok, listen up, people! This is a WIP and there are only 2 chapters posted so far, but I haven't felt this absolutely bonkers excited about a post-CA:TWS fic in a long while. We're talking frothing at the mouth here. I have such a massive crush on this fic, it's a bit embarrassing, really. It's one of those fics where you know after just a few paragraphs that you're in very good, very competent hands. The wealth of historical and cultural detail; the way the story shifts/flips/flickers back and forth between time, perspective and narrative levels; the Bucky voice—it's all so well done! I'm so insanely excited to see where the author takes this!

ENJOY!

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Bad moon rising I

Summary: After a nasty divorce, you and your family are forced to live with your Grandpa in the lovely notorious Santa Carla, California. Filled with punks, geeks, surfer nazis and apparently all kinds of creatures of the night.

Word count: 3.1k

Poly!lost boys x Emerson!reader

[1] [2] [3] [4]

A/n: This is the first time writing for the lost boys, I will let yall know if there are any major warnings in each chapters or not. But I hope that you guys enjoy reading the first chapter.

‘Don't go around tonight

Well it's bound to take your life

There's a bad moon on the rise’

Your legs were killing you. 

After hours of sitting in the back seat of the Land Cruiser, you were growing restless. And Nanook didn’t really help when the dog draped his entire body over your lap, his weight making both of your legs go numb. 

You could hear the sounds of your brothers and mom arguing over which radio station they should listen too for the rest of the drive. The occasional static from the radio making you roll your eyes. 

Maybe your legs weren’t the only thing tired from the long drive, maybe the voices of your family were starting to drive you crazy. 

“Oh,” your mom suddenly said, turning up the music that was currently on. “This one is from my generation.” A smile inched its way on your face as you watched mom dance along to the music. 

Both Sam and Micheal turned to face each other, a soft grin playing other lips as they listened to the ole timey song. “Keep going.” They said together. 

“Ok, ok, I get it.” Mom said as she switched the channel. “My music isn’t hip enough for you guys.”

You leaned forward in your seat, hand resting on Nanooks fur to keep him still. “Hip?” 

“Yeah, you know. Cool, fresh, narly.” Your mom told you, bringing her hand up to do a surfers hand gesture. 

You glanced over at Micheal, trying to see if he too was hearing what mom was describing. He just gave you a playful eye roll, and a shake of his head. Not wanting to tell mom that nobody actually used those words in real life. 

“We’re almost there.” Your mom told you in a sing song manor. 

Glancing past Micheal you saw a billboard, the words Welcome to Santa Carla read across the front, an image of the towns beach drawn on cartoonishly. 

Sam let out a gag, his nose turnt up towards the window. “What’s that smell?” He asked, quickly rolling up the glass to try and block the stench from entering the car. 

Mom closed her eyes, taking a long sniff of the outside breeze. “That’s the ocean air, baby”

“It smells like someone died.”

You snorted at your youngest brothers comment, he wasn’t totally wrong. The saltyness that suffocated the air around you was a bit much, but you’d grow used to it, you all will eventually. 

“Look guys, I know the last year has been tough.” Mom said, glancing back at the rear view mirror at both you and Micheal. “But I think your really gonna like it here.”

You couldn’t count on either hands on how many times your mother had said those exact words to you three. It always starts with the ‘I know’ and always ends in your really gonna like this place. But, if you were being a hundred percent honest you missed back home. 

All of your friends and what’s left of your now broken family is all back home in Phoenix. And you know that mom is doing all that she can to keep everything positive, but deep down you know that the divorce is hurting her just as badly as it is hurting you and your brothers. 

As the car continued to drive down the road, you watched as the sign showed the back. It was packed with graffiti art and even a couple of stickers stuck to wood. But, what caught your attention most was the five letter word painted in black and red. 

Murder capital of the world.

Upon entering Santa Carla, you’ve noticed that there is just about any type of person you could imagine walking along the streets. There were girls in bathing suits, guys with halve shaved heads, groups of tourists, the locals, nerds, jocks. Hell you even saw a dog with its fur colored pink. 

You just hoped that at night the people were better looking. 

Mom pulled beneath the cover of a food shack, allowing everyone to step out and get some fresh air after ten hours on the road. Sam leashed up Nanook and took him to the bathroom, also venturing his new home town by himself as he did so. 

You woke up your legs as you stepped out of the Land Cruiser, the nerves shooting up and down your body, you wobbled a bit on your feet before steadying yourself against the car. You felt sweat begin to form beneath your clothes, causing them to stick uncomfortably to your skin. “Holy cow.” You muttered gently fanning yourself to try and cool off a little. 

You were used to the heat from the sun, but God, the humidity is what’s gonna kill you this summer.  

As you continued to fan yourself off, you noticed all the small shops that surrounded you. They were old and kind of antique-ish looking. But, past that laid the boardwalk, were you knew you’d be spending the remainder of you summer break and nights. 

Sam came jogging back towards the car, Nanook right on his tail. He stopped before mom as he pointed a finger at the boardwalk behind him. “Mom! Mom, there’s and amusement park right on the beach.”

Instead of acknowledging the said park, you watched as mom pulled out a small wad of cash. Placing it in Sam’s hand she gestured to a group of homeless kids rummaging through the dumpster. “Sam, tell those kids to eat something. Will ya’?”

As you watch Sam walk over towards the kids, you notice a telephone pole covered from head to toe in posters. Stepping away from the car and wandering over you read a few, hoping to catch a couple help wanted ads or even just something small enough to help out your family. 

Though instead of any job listing you did find a good amount of missing children posters. Actually, it’s just about a missing everyone poster. There is a little boy that looks about six, a grainy picture of him is nailed down with staples. And beside it is a man in what looks like his mid to early fourties, his balding head and crooked teeth makes you wonder who would miss a guy like that. 

Glancing past the telephone pole, you eyed the teenagers in the dumpster carefully. For all you know these kids could go missing next, and no one would try and look for them. 

The thought made your stomach twist in a discusted knot, the idea that you or even one of your brothers could turn up missing one day and nobody would bat an eye, didn’t sit right with you. 

A car honked from behind you, turning around you noticed that your family is back in the cars AC and that they are all waiting on you. “Y/n, sweetheart.” Your mom called, poking her head out the window. “We have to go, grandpas waiting for us.”

You quickly made your way back to the car, plopping back down in your seat as mom slowly pulled out of the food shack. The feeling of cold breeze in your face cooled you off a lot more than your hand did. 

After a while the car pulled up to an old two story house, the arch way made out of tree limbs and nails made you question how sturdy that would actually be in a storm. Once the car came to a complete stop everyone piled out, the dirt road beneath you dirtied up the end of your blue jeans. The bottom of your converse’s making little patterns in the grime. 

Micheal, who had decided to ride his bike for the rest of the drive, slowly unstradled the vehicle, his eyes darting around the front yard of the house. Wood carvings of animals and an old trailer was near the back of the yard, the fence that surrounded us was slightly spaced out and cut into sharp ends. 

“This is homey.” You muttered to micheal, the backpack that you carried felt heavy on your back after hours of not wearing it. 

Micheal hummed in agreement, albeit sarcasticly. 

Glancing back at the house itself, you took in the porch, it had one too many rocking chairs and wooden tables for you to count. There were even empty beer bottles rolling across the porch floor. But, you stopped judging the home style around you when you noticed a pair of legs laid out on the ground. 

Taking erie steps, you all cautiously eyed the body. Both fear and concern bubbling deep inside of you. Fear that this would be the first dead body you’ve seen and concern over who will come and clean it. 

Mom walked ahead of you and your brothers, crouching down by the head of the body. “Dad?” She asked, swiping hair out of his face as she did so. “Dad?”

“It looks like he’s dead.” Micheal stated, eyes glancing swiftly from his mom and the supposedly dead body before them. 

Mom shook her head, gently shaking her dad awake. “No, he’s just a heavy sleeper.” 

“Why is he asleep on the porch?” Micheal asked, trying to understand the older man. 

You leaned over Sam’s shoulder, taking in the supposedly dead corpse in front of you. “Is the heat from the sun gonna make his body decay faster?” You pondered out loud, ignoring the glare your mom gave you. 

“Yeah. And if he’s dead can we move back to Phoenix?” Sam added on for you, receiving the same look your mom just gave you. 

“The both of you be quiet.” She scolded. 

Suddenly grandpas head popped up, his eyes half lidded as he held a smug smirk. “Playin’ dead. And, from what I heard doing a damn good job of it, too.”

You watched as mom playfully swatted at her dad, before leaning down and giving him a good hug. Sharing a quick glance at your brothers, they both held the same expression that you did. Confused and slightly baffled at how the old man acts. 

The inside of the house looked just like the cabins from Friday the thirteenth. The floor was wood, the stairs were wood, an even the walls were wood. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if the refrigerator and sink were made out it, too.

You walked through the house with a cardboard box labeled kitchen, both Sam and Micheal right behind you. Though Micheal was carrying a barbell with a couple of weights and shirts on it, and Sam had a bowl on his head with tied up comics ontop. 

“This place is straight out of a horror movie.” Sam whined, as they reached the kitchen. “I wouldn’t be surprised if their are dead body’s buried somewhere.”

“It’s not that bad.” you tried to reason, placing the box onto the counter and cutting through the tape. 

Sam stared at you bewildered, “Not that bad? Not that bad!” He started to raise his voice, setting down the comics and bowl beside you as he continued. “There’s no TV. Have you seen a TV? I haven’t seen a TV.”

You shrugged your shoulders, taking a couple porcelain plates from the box and setting them in a cabinet. “Use your imagination.”

“Imagination?” The boy raised his voice a little bit higher. “You know who else used there imagination? The Torrence family, and they ended up trying to kill each other.”

“Ok, one this is not The Shinning. And, two, you kill me I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.” 

Micheal chuckled at yours and Sam’s conversation, “Oh, you think this is funny Micheal?” Sam asked the irritation of no TV or even MTV was starting to get to him. 

“A little.” He told his brother, placing the barbell down and walking back towards the car. “But, we’re flat broke, Sammy. Can’t afford a new TV for this joke of a place.”

You walked back and forth from the car, box after box, cutting open and placing your stuff with Grandpas. It was tiring, but, you wanted to get it done now so that you could go to the boardwalk tonight. 

Though your brothers on the other hand, weren’t as helpful as you were trying to be. 

Sam ran through the living room, swaying between the boxes that littered the ground as he sprinted away from Micheal. The said older boy was running down the stairs, he hoped over the railing near the bottom and took off after Sam. 

You were pulling out a vase from a box, tearing off the bubble wrap and placing it perfectly on the table. You took a small step back and eyed the spot, debating if you should move it one way or another for it to look right. 

But, as you stepped back, you acidently stood right infront of Micheal’s path. He collided with your side, sending you both tumbling to the ground. “Dammit, Micheal!” You shouted, quickly getting up just as your brother did. Continuing with his chase after Sam, you immediately ran after him. 

“Hey, guys, no running in the house.” Mom called out to the three of you, though no one paid her any mind as you all just continued to chase one another. 

Sam stopped before two sliding doors, shoving each of them open. You and Micheal caught up with your brother, you about ready to shove Micheal for knocking you to the ground, when you saw what laid behind the double doors. 

Taxidermy animals laid on the table in front of you, some were even hung up to the ceiling because there was no more room on the surface. The three of you stood shocked at the room, you more disturbed that so many dead animals were cut open like they currently were. 

“I think we found the dead bodies, Sam.” You told him, referring to your earlier talk about grandpa hiding dead corpses. 

Sam let out a snort, eyeing the room with interest. Micheal leaned up against your side, his elbow coming up to rest on your shoulder. Even at pratically the same height he liked to remind you which of the two was the tallest. 

“Talk about Texas chainsaw massacre.” 

“Rules.” A voice suddenly called out, bringing each of your attention to grandpa who had a cardboard box in hand. “We got some rules around here.”

He gestured with his hand to follow, which you all did begrudgingly. The old man led you to the refrigerator, and upon opening it you saw a sign that read, ‘Old fart’. You hid your amused smile behind your hand as Grandpa began to explain the rules. 

“The second shelf is mine.” He stated matter of factly, easing the sign to show a couple of beer bottles and a box of Oreos hidden behind it. He waved a finger at all three of you, “Don’t nobody touch the second shelf, ya’ hear.”

You nodded along with your brothers, grandpa then waddled out of the kitchen leaving you to trail behind him. You watched discustedly as Micheal began to shove his finger in Sam’s ear, the younger boy trying to push him away when Micheal wrapped an arm around the poor boys neck. 

Clearing his throat, Micheal directed his attention back at grandpa. “Hey, grandpa? Is it true that Santa Carla is the murder capital of the world?” He asked, refusing to let Sam go from his grasp. 

Murder capital of the world. 

Those were the exact words you’d read off the back of the billboard. You hadn’t known that Micheal had read that aswell, although he appears to be taking the towns chosen nickname more jokingly than you had. 

Grandpa slowly turned back around to face the three of you, his eyes darting across each face. “There are some bad elements around here.” He told you, though his voice seemed to be a lot more serious than anything. 

Sam finally shoves Micheal off of him, “Woah, wait a minute. You mean to tell me that we moved to the murder capital of the world?” He asked, getting close to the old man’s face. “Are you serious grandpa?”

You watched as grandpa took his time with his next words of choice. “Well- let me put it this way; if all the corpses buried around here were to stand up at once, we’d have a serious population problem.”

That did about anything but soothe your racing mind. Are we gonna get killed here? Are you actually going to go missing and nobody would care? Could Sam, Micheal or even mom turn up dead one day?

Your thoughts immediately went back to the missing posters, all the untraced people that had disappeared off the face of the earth. And not one of them had been found. You don’t think your gonna like it here all that much, you concluded. 

Mom suddenly sauntered in the living room, a stack of hats resting ontop of her head. “Oh, Dad. You’re gonna give them nightmares.” She told him, not wanting to deal with three teenagers wandering into her room at night complaining about what grandpa had told them. 

Grandpa waved his hand, dismissing her accusation. Changjng the conversation, he picked up a TV guide that sat on the end table, waving back to you and your brothers he began to explain another rule of his. 

“Now, when the mailman brings the TV guide on wensdays, sometimes the corner of the address label will curl up.” He pointed to the address label on the guide, the corner slowly thrusting itself up towards the ceiling. “You’ll be tempted to peel it off. Don’t. You’ll end up ripping the cover, and I don’t like that

He tossed the TV guide back on a different table, making his way back to the taxidermy room. He yanked the sliding doors together and they closed with a great, smack. “And stay out of here.”

Grandpa then walked away, though not before Sam stood in his pathway, excitement rising in his chest. “There’s a TV?” He asked, slightly crossing his fingers for the man to say yes. 

“No. I just like to read the TV guide. Read the guide and you don’t need the Tv.” He then walked away, leaving Sam with a disappointed look. 

“See,” you told him, walking towards a couple of boxes that were laid about the living room floor. “Now, you get to use you imagination.”

Sam pointed a finger at you, “When we go crazy, here- and we will, you’ll be the first that I kill.”

You pushed Sam out of your way with your shoulder, balancing the box on your hip. “Then be prepared for me to haunt you until the end of times, Samuel Emerson.”

A/a/n: Hello and thank you for reading the first chapter :) Now we won’t meet the boys until the next chapter, but I am debating if I should just make that chapter about you meeting them or add on. I still haven’t decided. But thank you again and the next chapter will be done as quickly as possible ;)

[theoutcastrogue]

That said, the D&D 3.5 Paladin was bad. It was badly designed, it had bad rules, and in conjunction with the other notoriously bad rule, alignment, it could cause havoc.

Now personally, I never had ANY problems with it in my tabletop games. I played paladins and loved it, and I loved it when other people played paladins, and it was great. But that's because, collectively as a group, we took ONE look at that terrible rule where the paladin's code of conduct prevents them from associating with Evil characters or "someone who consistently offends her moral code", and immediately went, "that's stupid, we ain't doing that, it would ruin the game".

We also didn't love the concept of alignment as a cosmic force, and didn't care for Usually Evil Goblins and Always Evil anything. And when a class's signature ability fully depends on whether creatures are capital E Evil, well that affects storytelling, doesn't it? But we all saw it the same way, and we were happily able to change it without any disagreements. In the end we had a Paladin… similar to 5e now that I think of it: completely ignore the Code's association clause, tailor the Code to personal stance or a specific Order, Detect only fiends and undead and the like, Smite anything you want, Fall only if you really fuck up, and never presume that just because you haven't Fallen yet everything you've ever done is justified and correct and anyone who disagrees with you is objectively wrong.

Basically, there were 2 options in 3.5. You either houseruled and/or handwaved things, and in matters of alignment interpretations erred on the side of "what makes the game go",

OR, you played with Rules As Written, and filled the forums with questions like "should the paladin fall?" (one such thread per week, conservatively), "we got into a fight over the Paladin, what to do?", "is it Evil to pick pockets? because we have a Paladin in the party", "the Assassin uses poison, shouldn't that offend my moral code?", and shit like that. Just... pointless strife, all the time. Again, never happened to me, but I was appalled to read about it, over and over and over.

People got intense with 3.5 Paladins (both pro and against) because it was BADLY DESIGNED and had BAD RULES. Its mechanics forced narrative choices on the entire table, and the only way to make it frictionless was having a party where no one wishes to explore a character's bad side ever, no one does things that aren't bad but WotC branded Evil™ in this or that splatbook, and everyone magically agrees all the time on "what is right and what is wrong" and "what is Lawful and what is Chaotic", which is simply impossible. The most subjective thing in the world (ethics!) was presented as an objective cosmic force, and how you interpreted it would determine how much damage the Paladin deals in combat, and whether the Paladin could keep associating with the party, and if the Paladin is still a Paladin. And all that in a game, let's not forget, whose basic, fundamental premise is "kill things and take their stuff". I'm sorry, this is tremendously stupid. It's the WORST design.

I know that for some people it worked as written, and good for them, but for the many many people it didn't work, well it's obvious why.

[coryosbaby]

Cry, Kill, Die

[ part two ]

Synopsis: In which Coriolanus Snow takes you for his own.

content warning . Dark themes— stalking, kidnapping, and Stockholm’s syndrome heavily mentioned // Extremely dubious consent, Murder and gore mentioned, misogynistic elements, past prostitution and a hint of bisexual! Coryo?// mentions of oral, non consensual masturbation, peacekeeper (ish?) ! Coryo, dom! Coryo, goes more into his pov this chapter <3

Coryo has a tendency to make women hate him.

He’s never known why. Although he sugars them up with sweet words and gifts, they never seem to meld to his image the way he wants them to, never obey. He wonders what he’s doing wrong.

And then, one day, he sees you.

It was a rainy night in district twelve when he took sight of you. You were almost childish in your ways, skipping merrily throughout the gravel streets, as if the whole world wasn’t against you. You had stuck your tongue out to catch the rain droplets into your mouth, and Coryo felt something so primal kick in his gut that it was almost blinding.

He began to follow you, after that.

It wasn’t that strange, at least not to others. He was a peacekeeper, they couldn’t say shit to him even if they wanted to. After the death of Sejanus the other peacekeepers strayed away from him, so he didn’t have to worry about them, either.

“A snitch,” they had spoken, quiet whispers that they thought he couldn’t hear. “Betrayed Sejanus. Yeah, him. The nice boy with the capital parents.”

Coryo had ignored them, when they talked about his other past lover. And if he was being honest he didn’t have enough of his mind occupied in that field to care. No, he was focused on something bigger— something, a plan perhaps, that would make you his.

You weren’t innocent. He knew that, took note of the many men you took home from bars for a few dollars. But there was something so precious about you, that set you apart from the others. You could be claimed if the right man stepped in and took the initiative.

And that’s when Coryo got the idea.

Lucy Gray was out in a heartbeat. There would be no remembrance of her, of her mockingjays, rainbow dresses, or silly songs. Lucy gray didn’t matter, anymore.

All he saw was you.

When he let Lucy gray lead him out into that cabin, it was out of sheer dumb luck. Everything was falling into place; he had found a place to keep you, a way to get rid of Lucy Gray, a place secluded and empty. This is where you would become his wife.

He decided it then, after he had shot and disposed of Lucy’s body.

It was the perfect place. It would be a home, a place for your own enjoyment and for your shared children. It would be nirvana.

A downside fell in front of Coryo, along the way. He would be going back home— his plan to make his way back up to the top had worked. But so what? He could find a way around his duties, a way to see you at least once every day. That’s why he chose the peacekeeper uniform. The time he arrived in district twelve every day would be the time most guards were off duty. He could wander as he pleased, and no one would recognize him because he glided smoothly in the crowd of men. Coriolanus Snow was supposed to be discharged, after all. There was no way, the other peacekeepers chided, that that one quiet guard could be him.

And when Coryo kidnapped you, he felt a sense of enjoyment.

The way you squirmed, your small form shoving up against him, made his cock harden in such a way that it never had before. When he threw you into that room, when he had locked you up, he felt relief. You would be safe. No one could hurt you there.

The cabin wasn’t finished. He knew that, but when he took you he caught you at the perfect time. He had locked all the doors in the house besides the bathroom and that one bedroom the day before, out of sheer intuition. Why would he let his girl see such a horrid mess? But it didn’t matter, he’d get you to like him and you’d both fix them up later.

The dress was made by Tigris. The creative blonde had no clue of Coriolanus’ terrible plans, assumed he had a date with a woman from one of his classes. She had no idea that she had stitched together the perfect welcome home gift.

When he had turned around for your frightened form to change into it, he had wanted so badly to rip it to shreds and split you in half on his cock. Imagining it— all that hard work, the beautiful pink fabric, ruined, while his cockhead parted your sweet folds— made his mind whirl with insidious thoughts. He had pushed them away, though, and when he saw you covered in the pretty pink ruffles he was satisfied.

He felt guilty, not having much time to spend with you due to his constant meetings with Dr. Gaul and the other game makers. But through obstacles, he must persevere. He made sure to see you at least once a night, to bring you food and water. He noticed before through your window that whenever it was your night to cook dinner for the family, you always chose tomato soup. So the boy immersed himself in the art of cooking, in the art of learning how to make your favorite meal. He brought it to you in the styrofoam cups the capital cafeteria provided. Tigris had aided him in perfecting the dish, had told him, “wow. You really like this girl, don’t you, Coryo?”

She had no idea.

The night he comes home with the gown, he’s got a pit in his stomach. Even though it was his first off day in weeks, he had lost his temper earlier today, the damned thing that always seemed to get him into trouble. He had sunk his teeth deep. In the literal and emotional sense.

He’s angry with himself. How could he lose control like that? In his home? With you?

So he does what he does best: he provides. He provides you a brand new, comfortable nightgown, silky and blue; He knows pink is your favorite color but so help him, he wants the best possible fabric for his girl. And if that means sacrificing one small thing for your comfort, then so be it.

When he had went to fetch dinner and the gift, he hadn’t left the cabin. No, there was no trip to a cheap, rundown district restaurant or a long train ride to a capital dress shop. Coryo sat, watched through a window, and waited.

He used this as a way to not only admire you, but to find out what you do when he’s gone. To see if you’ll panic. To see if you’ll leave.

You don’t move an inch, and with that Coryo is glad. You don’t want to leave him. You’re happy.

He comes in, equipped with the bag and the cup of tomato soup he had stashed on the side of the cabin when he got there earlier that day. It’s probably cold, but he knows the nightgown will make up for that for sure.

When he comes in, he sees the way your eyes light up with fascination. The way you smile at him, so sweet and pretty, makes him blush.

He plays peek a boo through his fingers when you change. He kisses you, and you kiss him back, and then he lets you get down on your knees and suck his cock. He knows it’s wrong, he should wait, but he’s gotten so excited and you’re so gorgeous…although, your nose is caked with a bit of dirt. You may need a shower. He doesn’t know why you haven’t taken one— he had stocked up on your favorite shampoo, conditioner, and body washes. He had took it upon himself, took the risk of his image, to sneak inside your bathroom and make a list of what you liked. Perhaps you have depression? Perhaps he didn’t gift you the correct shampoo?

No, perhaps you need him to help you. Silly girl, always needing his assistance! He pulls away from you, once you’ve taken all his cum down your pretty throat. He strokes your hair, and pecks you gently on the cheek.

“A shower?” He suggests.

—

When you hear those words from him, you want to cry in relief and also in fear. Your hair is matted, your body sweaty and gross. The cum you just swallowed isn’t sitting well in your tummy. You nod to Coryo, and let him guide you to the shower. You might as well let him see you naked— at this point, you’ll have to let him. He’ll make you reveal your body one way or another. Either way, you’re used to this, letting men see and use your body for something in return. It’s almost the same as your daily occupations.

Almost.

You prepare for the worst. For him to get hard for a second time, part your legs, and slip himself inside you. But surprisingly, he doesn’t. He just admires you from afar, taking in the sight of your bare breasts and cunt resting in between your legs. He asks if you want him to touch you. You say no, that you want to wait.

“At the right time,” you say. “When we’ve.. gotten to know each other.”

When you mention that to Coryo, he understands perfectly. Of course you want to wait— what you two have is special.

He massages your scalp with shampoo and conditioner, scrubs you down with a rag and your favorite soap, rinses it off, and pours unscented wash onto it. He looks at you, almost as if asking for permission (how ironic). But you don’t care what he does anymore. You just want to sleep.

He uses his fingers to gently part your legs. He runs the cloth over your cunt, your thighs. He parts one side of your ass with his big hand, and scrubs you there, too. He uses the shower head to wash you off, and you try to ignore the throb in your clit when the water spurts against it. You hate being attracted to Coryo, at least physically, because he’s using a separate rag to clean himself and it makes heat flood your face. When he’s done, when you’re both ridden of filth, he wraps you up in a fluffy green towel. He slips the nightgown over your head and puts his shirt and pants back on— he’ll need to bring a set of pajamas, next time, he thinks.

He sits you down on the bed, and he presses a kiss to your head. You’re tired, scared, and feel something else you can’t quite place. Coryo turns the lamp down, and he urges you to get into bed.

You’re surprised when he slides in next to you. You tense, as he wraps his arm around your middle. So different from earlier that day, and as he whispers sweetly to you, “goodnight, bunny”, you wonder how in the hell your life has turned into this.

—

When Coriolanus puts you to bed, he doesn’t sleep.

He doesn’t do much of that anymore, anyway. He’s got too much on his mind, too many plans. He’s thinking about what color to make his child’s nursery, about the train ride he’s going to have to endure tomorrow morning. He had lied to his family earlier that day, at least a little bit. “Staying at my my girl’s tonight,” he had said dreamily to Tigris. “Wanna give her something special”. She had taken the bait.

For a split second he thought of quitting the capital— he’d have more time for you, after all. But he wants the absolute best for his girl, and he can’t give you that on a peacekeeper’s lousy salary.

He watches you sleep. Your lashes flutter as you doze, and he hears a whine spill from your plump lips. Your body turns, the nightgown riding up to expose the fat of your thighs. Coryo can’t bring himself to look away.

His cock twitches in his pants, beginning to swell to full hardness. How wrong it is, as he slips his hand down into his pants. But he can’t bring himself to care. It’s as if you’re asking for him to get aroused from you— why are your legs parting, as you let out soft, whiny breaths? Why is your bare cunt, plump and sweet, exposing itself so openly to the room? You’re like an enchantress, a goddess of seduction. You want him to do this.

Coriolanus unzips his fly, pull out his cock that’s practically aching. He spits, brings his palm down. He masturbates like that, staring at your bare cunt, thinking about your mouth on him earlier that day. How perfect you were, your soft pink tongue lolling out to lick his juices, the way you looked up at him with glazed eyes.

He spills into his fist, and wishes he had spilled all over your face. But he isn’t going to disrespect his girl like that.

[wpdarlingpan]

Snow Falls… In Love

Part 2 ❄️

Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Innocent!Reader

Female Prounouns

Word Count: 2k

Summary: an innocent girl from district 12 is Coriolanus Snow’s tribute. She wins the capitals heart through her love and kind eyes. Now he never wants to let her go, she was his tribute. At first it was admiration, but not it’s grown into something bigger. Love.

Warnings: obsessive behavior, mentions of murder, normal hunger games warnings, self-deprecation

Click which part you’d like to read below! ❄️

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (Finale)

The kiss they shared was monumental for Coriolanus. It was as if every puzzle piece fell into place for him. His confidence overruled the idea of Y/N getting murdered in the games the next day.

But that’s all she could think about.

Y/N adored Corio, after all he’d done to keep her alive and favored it was impossible not to. It was difficult for her to process that fact she found someone this special but she would soon die in the games.

“Corio, I-“ she spoke before cutting herself off, figuring out the best way to say it. “I don’t want you to think I have a chance in that arena. Hope is a dangerous thing.”

Coriolanus was silent, staring into her eyes intently as he moved to grab her chin with a firm grip.

“You are going to get out of that arena. The other mentors? Their focus is on making their opponents strong. They will look past simple solutions in favor of brute strength. You will get out of this because of you are your strengths, agility and wits.” He never looked away, not even for a second. He didn’t even let go until he thought he got his point across.

Y/N hesitated but nodded as he goes to hand her a compact case before stopping.

“What is this?” She questions at his hesitation. Not because it’s his mother’s but because he was afraid she open it or something before he could explain. He would never put her in harms way.

“Do not open it until absolutely necessary. Do not smell it or even touch it util that point. Even just a little of it could kill you.”

Y/N understood that he wanted to ensure she’d have a weapon within moments of the timer starting. She nodded as he continued to talk about a hiding space.

“Thank you Corio, thank you for everything you’ve done to keep me alive.” Tears gathered in her eyes, silently falling as he wiped them.

“This isn’t goodbye, I will see you when you win the games. I will see you everyday when I wake up and at the end when I fall asleep.“ Coriolanus leaned in and kissed her softly as he wiped her tears with a plain handkerchief before he retreated back to his house. Not home because he truly believed his home was with you.

~*~

Coriolanus watched the games reluctantly, the blood spilled seem to engulf the screen. He stared at the screen holding Y/N.

The second the countdown stopped they were off. Y/N turned around in fear to see a spear being thrown towards her as she attempted to duck out of the way, but it still managed to cut her arm causing her to whimper in pain.

Yet It didn’t stop her as she ran into the vents, it the hiding place snow suggested but good enough. She was even able to lock it before anyone could notice.

The battle outside was loud. The clangs of metal crashing echoes through the arena. The sounds of screams and grunts as someone’s life vanished in mere moments.

Meanwhile Coriolanus was internally on edge. It wouldn’t show through his poised posture or the indifferent look on his face but the way his heart was beating faster.

There were no cameras in the vents much to Lucky Flickerman’s despair and promises to add one next year.

By sundown there was nearly half of the tributes left.

It was late at night and dark in the arena, most of the tributes were sleeping or staying in their hiding spots since it was dangerous to go out in the dark.

That’s when Sejanus snuck in. He saw the way they hung up his friend from the districts. The torture he went through while he was living lavishly in the capital with his daddy’s money.

To which he used to give his friend a proper District 2 send off.

Unluckily or luckily for Coriolanus it was his responsibility to get him out.

~*~

Y/N peaked out the vent when she heard talking. A voice sounded familiar but with how far away they were it was hard to tell for sure.

Corio couldn’t pass up this opportunity so as his friend gathered himself, he ran up to the vent.

Y/N was on edge until she saw the face of Coriolanus Snow.

The tears instantly began running as she went to along it but be stopped her.

“I have to get out of here. I’m not supposed to be here. But I had to see you, I couldn’t leave without hearing your voice in person. I’m sorry I can’t get you out.” He reached through the vent the best he could and they held hands. “There’s significantly less tributes left from earlier. Your chances are bettering Y/N, now it’s time for you to believe in yourself.”

“I will be okay, I will see you later Corio.” Y/N spoke as her voice wavered. Would she? She didn’t know. But she couldn’t bring herself to fully find comfort in his words.”

“See you later my love.” Corio spoke without truly thinking of the implication of the pet name but couldn’t find himself to be bothered as him and Sejanus ran out of the arena, no other tributes even hearing the sound of the gates closing for the last time until the winner was announced.

~*~

Y/N had begun to sneak out of the vent at night to stretch her legs. Risky but necessary after spending days sitting down in the vent, her breathing silent as tributes would walk by, not sparing even a glance at the vent.

That was until one did notice.

Y/N got out of the vent on the third night, pushing the door open quietly as she stepped out on alert.

What she didn’t know though was there was someone else in that part of the arena. They were crouched in a corner, blending into the shadows the best they could at the orders of Coral.

Tanner got up slowly, reaching to grab his weapon, before running at Y/N.

She heard the rocks cracking beneath his feet before she turned to the noise. His sickle was raised high, a battle cry falling from his mouth as he swung right at Y/N. She dodged it.

That was until she lost her balance and slipped down the slanted rocks.

~*~

Coriolanus was the only one left at the viewing auditorium. He watched closely as Y/N was crawling out of the vents.

He looked around the frames of the arena, checking peoples positions to ensure the safety of his tribute.

That’s when he saw Tanner.

Corio watched in apprehension as tanner ran at her. He was hitting buttons on the keypad urgently, looking for anything to help her after the whole faulty drones thing.

But what else could be done?

~*~

Y/N felt her head slam onto a rock, leaving only a concussion hopefully due to the lack of blood.

Tanner made his way down, almost making a game of cat and mouse out of the chase as he slowly lurked closer.

Y/N pushed her self up even with the disagreement of her head as she went to run before feeling a slight weight in her pocket. Reaching into her pocket as she kept an eye on him, she got ahold of the little ‘gift’ from Corio.

The second Tanner got closer Y/N open the container and blew the entire contents into his face before throwing the container to the center to keep her hands free in case it doesn’t work.

Nothing happened… at first.

Then he collapsed as blood drained from his nose.

Coriolanus watched as Tanner’s feed cut with a look of admiration at Y/N’s ability to defend herself. Because that’s what he saw it as, self-defense.

Y/N saw it as murder. She knew what was going to happen. It was between the two of them. They wouldn’t make friendship bracelets and stop fighting. This was life or death, she had to make her choice. The feeling of the poison in her hand made her decision for her as it brought a familiar blonde to the front of her mind.

But it didn’t make it hurt any less as she watched the light fade from his eyes before shutting them. A quiet promise of hoping he had a better time in the next life before shutting herself in the vent.

With the Rebels attacks increasing, Volumnia Gaul decided the game was over. There was no chance for a Victor. They all would die.

This was not something Coriolanus took into account.

He ran as fast as he could before stopping at the entrance of the doctors building.

Coriolanus had to make a plan… and fast.

~*~

Y/N and the others heard the commotion of something landing in the arena, followed by the sound of crunching underneath it. It was dangerous but they all inched forward as Y/N got out of the vent, watching from afar. Of course she was curious but it was the capital. There was no influence she could have but only hope for the odds and they never seemed to be in her favor.

Wovey was the first to get close

“Is it done? Can we go home?” Tears built in the little girls eyes.

The item began cracking before a sea of snake engulfed the girl like a wave upon an ocean pulling her under the tides.

All of the tributes screamed as they attempted to run for safety. There was just too many snakes, the bites would slow them down before their inevitable death due to the amount of venom flooding their system.

It was down to Coral and Y/N.

Y/N had stayed up by the vent and watched as Coral attempted to reach her but was stopped by the snakes wrapping around her arms and legs.

Then there was one.

Y/N didn’t move, maybe if she didn’t run they wouldn’t be alarmed and kill her? Maybe they would go right past. But that was hope, and she would be hypocritical to have it.

The snakes circled up her arms and legs as Y/N urged herself to calm down. This was her last few moments and she only waited for the inevitable pain of stinging bites resonating throughout her body.

It never happened.

They just slithered around her, coiling themselves as if to comfort.

~*~

Everyone was confused on why the snakes attacked everyone else but Y/N. It didn’t make sense until Coriolanus spoke up

“She calms them! You saw how empathetic she was in the interview” he looked around to see the nodding heads as he hid a smirk “They won’t hurt her. Let her out!”

Tigress yelled to let her out as well. She saw what Y/N was doing to her cousin and she couldn’t imagine what would happen if he lost her.

This brought the crowd to a chant.

Then finally, the games were over.

“The Victor of the 10th annual Hunger Games is… Y/N L/N!” Lucky announced the winner as the room cheered. Corio only talked to Tigress and Sejanus before rushing out of the room to find his love.

After all, there was no proof he cheated.

The compact was shattered upon impact with the snake container.

The white handkerchief had been deemed a tributes.

There was no evidence Coriolanus Snow and Y/N L/N cheated in the games. It was only their secret.

They say love is a weakness.

Especially in the Hunger Games.

But it made the two of them stronger. It was the two of them against the world from the start.

Snow fell in love, but what would it take to keep her with him?

The world may never know

Until the last and final part of their love story.

~*~

Note: Hey Everyone! I hope I did you guys justice with how much you liked the first part. I appreciate all the love and it greatly inspired me to write and finish this story. I know there wasn’t much fluff in this chapter but this plot had to be told.

I will be publishing a part 3 ❄️

Taglist: @diannana @olivetree420

[aphrogeneias]

it's been seven hours and fifteen days —

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (soulmate!au)

summary: it's new years eve, and as the year comes to an end, so do a lot of other things.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: fluff and a lot of angst. brief sexual assault (by an unnamed patron). a little bit of violence. mention of a gun (as a joke, very quickly). a cliffhanger. stobin (platonic with a capital p) appreciation.

author's note: it's been a long time, but the show must go on. i hope you enjoy it! <3 also, please don't hate after you're done with this, 'kay? pinky promise.

series masterlist

Steve and Robin surprised you with a visit right before New Year’s Eve of 1991.

Surprised isn't the word, in fact. They had both been dropping hints about coming over to see you whenever you'd talk on the phone for a few weeks then, especially since Eddie came back to your life. You were trying to not worry them, to not bring up the subject too often, but they knew you better than you knew yourself.

In the same way Eddie once knew you too.

On the morning of the 30th, you were woken up by several insisting knocks on your apartment door. Those were unexpected in themselves, since no one used to visit you. Especially at that time of day, after a long Sunday night shift. Your roommate was out of town for the holidays, and even then, it wasn’t like there were people coming in and out of your home on Monday mornings.

Mornings were for sleeping in and recovering from the buzzing in your ears left by way too loud live music — Linda would always say you'd all end up deaf, but you couldn't think of a better way of eventually losing your hearing — and standing on your feet since the afternoon. However, that particular Monday morning was different than any other.

Stumbling out of bed, you inwardly cursed whoever was bothering you this early, when you'd just gotten to bed. From the other side of the door, you could hear two people arguing. “Stop knocking! You've already woken up the whole building!”, one of them said, in a frazzled whisper-shout. The other responded, in an almost bored tone, “And she might still be asleep.”

You'd never yanked the lock open that fast in your life.

Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley, with bags under their eyes and bags on the floor by their feet, stood on your doorstep. Their matching smiles staring right back at you.

“What are you doing here?” You gasped, launching yourself forward, involving both of them with your arms around their shoulders in an awkward group hug.

“We were long overdue for a road trip to see you.” Steve sounded tired as he squeezed you back.

“The old Beemer almost didn't make it.” Robin commented as you pulled away.

“I’d kill both of you for surprising me like this on my day off but I'm too happy to care right now.” You were already pulling their bags inside and closing the door, leading them in.

“Can we take a nap first? I'd rather be killed while I'm well rested.”

The cold, early morning sun shining through the window curtains made that sight even more surreal. Robin already lying on your couch, and Steve sitting himself on the floor in front of it, resting his head on the seat. You smiled through the sleepy fog that still lingered behind your eyes.

“That can be arranged.”

They slept through the morning and a little into the afternoon, which gave you time to sleep too.

After you were all awake and they'd settled their luggage in your room, showered and changed, it was time for an improvised breakfast for lunch with whatever you had in your fringe. Frozen waffles, scrambled eggs and plenty of coffee.

You sat around the small, square table in your kitchen while you listened to them talk about everything, everyone, you'd left behind. About running into your mom at Bradley’s Big Buy, about the kids going to college, — and how Robin hopes Dustin never follows any of Steve's advice, much to his chagrin — about Robin’s life in the city and Steve’s struggle to let go of the past.

Some things would never change, even when they did most drastically.

You didn't speak about yourself, content in just hearing them talk, basking in their warm presence. Until Robin asked, “What about Eddie, huh?”

“Yeah, what about Eddie?” Steve repeated, trying to act casually while he filled his mug with more coffee. It was never his strong suit.

You sat back in your chair, crossing your arms. “What about Eddie?”

“Can't we ask how he's doing? How are the two of you doing?” Robin mirrored your position, grinning at you.

“There's no two of us, nothing’s changed in that regard, before you ask.” You sighed, “And Eddie… Eddie is doing great. The band is doing great, they're getting good traction with the public, the bar has been more and more crowded each weekend. It's just a matter of time until they get a better offer as a resident band, or from a label. I'm happy for him, for them.” You quickly corrected yourself.

“What about you? Are you happy?”

You couldn't help but smile at Steve's question. “It's bittersweet, I think. I grew used to having him around again, some days it's like I haven't even left, but I know it's got an expiration date hanging over us all over again. It's good to have him while I can, you know? I try not to think too much about it.”

“No use in telling him, then?” Robin finally breached the subject, you knew that was where they were trying to get all along.

You shake your head. “No, there never was, really. It's what I told you guys five years ago and it hasn't changed. Eddie doesn't want a soulmate, even if it's…”

“Not even if it's you? I really doubt that.” Steve interjected.

“Especially if it's me. Especially now, after everything I did. It's not fair to him.”

They exchanged a look then, one of those looks Robin and Steve shared that no one but then could really tell what it meant. It was enviable, really, to be that understood by someone. You once knew what that was like.

Before either of them could say anything, something shifted at the table. Subtle, like a soft gust of air, but you knew the feeling. You knew it well, and when you looked down between the empty plate of waffles and your barely touched cup of coffee, sat something that wasn't there a moment ago.

A woven leather bracelet, with a simple silver clasp. It was slightly worn, clearly well loved. There was no question where it came from.

You picked it up, letting it hang from your pointer finger.

“Is that… his?” Steve broke the silence.

A tired sigh left your lips from deep within your chest. “Who else could it be from?”

One more for the box.

As seemed like a pattern that day, you got woken up again, this time by the phone ringing.

Robin was sleeping in your roommate’s bedroom — because what she doesn't won't hurt her — and Steve was dead asleep, snoring on your couch. He didn't budge as you picked up the bright blue receiver from where it hung from the wall.

“Hello?”

“Did I wake you up?”

Eddie's tone did not indicate he was even a bit remorseful — you could practically see the dimples forming around his lips stretched in a charming smirk, his body leaning against the telephone booth.

“You didn't call me to ask that.”

Little did he know you had a matching smile on your own lips.

“You’re right. Jus’ wanna hear your adorable, middle of the night voice.”

“Asshole.” You scoffed, and if your face felt a little hot, you tried to ignore it. “What's up?”

“You wanna go help me put up some posters over on the Strip? Linda said we need all the marketing we can get for New Year’s, and I could use some help.”

“And your dear bandmates can't help because…?”

“Didn't ask them. I'm asking you.”

“Why? Missed my pretty face that much? You saw me yesterday, man.”

“Jesus…” He sighed, overdramatic and loud, as you'd expect. “Just get your cute butt over here, I'm waiting at the next corner.”

You giggled, again, not being able to help yourself. “I knew it.”

Most days, you liked to tell yourself you shouldn't get too attached. Eddie would soon be leaving again, on a tour bus to brave the country — with how much people they'd been attracting to The Deuce, it was only a matter of time until one of them was a producer scouting for their label’s next big hit.

You told yourself that, if he didn't leave, then you would. You'd done it once, there was no harm in doing it again.

You realized you liked lying to yourself more than you were previously aware of.

Lying to yourself was what you did when you were crammed into the passenger seat of Jeff’s old car, less conspicuous than the beat-up behemoth Eddie calls a van, scouring the city for the best spot to tack some concert posters. The late night radio tune the background of your laughter, inside jokes returning like second nature, the red string tightening around your pinky finger.

It was what you did when he held your hand to make you walk the streets faster, trying to cover more ground through the night, the same way that he used to when you played together. When he asked you to sit on his shoulders to attach posters to places higher than either of you could reach, and his hands rested warm on your thighs. When you ended the night at the same diner you did every morning, sleepy eyes meeting over hot coffee mugs.

Closer each day, still pretending to be far.

Holidays were never a busy time at The Deuce, which meant that the crowd at that New Year's Eve party was something you'd never seen before.

Being one of the smaller, lesser known clubs at the Strip, your parties were always a bit more inconspicuous. Smaller bands, smaller crowds, a lot less trouble. For some reason — and you suspected it was due to the news of a certain frontman’s charisma spreading through the city like wildfire — everything you expected was turned upside down this year.

Tickets were sold out that afternoon, and the bouncer had manager to squeeze in a few more people waiting in line. All pretty girls, of course. You had drinks to sell, after all.

The beginning of the night went as smoothly as you could manage. You got in earlier than usual, as did the rest of the staff, and by the time people started rolling in, you barely had time to greet Robin and Steve, who promptly found a place to sit further from the stage.

It was funny, seeing all of your old friends under the same roof again, even if it was just for one night. The boys came from backstage to say hello for a moment, and it was almost like being back at The Hideout again, with those same old drunks, and much less history between all of you. If you closed your eyes, it was almost like being there again.

If you looked closely, though, the strained smiles and awkward small talk amidst your closest friends and Eddie told you everything would never be the same again, not even if you tried.

A new year, a new life. Wishes to make, though yours was always the same.

You tried to shake that feeling, though, and concentrate on work. On the buzzing, electric feeling in the air, on the loud chatter and the music the DJ was playing in the background, on the eminent excitement for midnight to come.

Your wish happened to come out of backstage again that evening right before the band came on, wrapping one arm around your shoulder while you carried an empty tray towards the bar.

Your heart raced as he leaned closer, voice lowered for your ears only. “Do you see that guy over there?”

He pointed at a man sitting by himself, close to the stage — as close as he could get without getting into the crowd that was already forming in front of it. He looked like a mixture of Kim Fowley and a Ken doll, nothing too out of the ordinary for the men you saw regularly here, but he was definitely not a regular.

“Who is that?” You whispered back at him as you placed the tray back on the counter. Eddie remained there, with his arm around you, his body learning against your side. You could tell how excited he was by the wild grin on his face.

“He's here for us. Linda called on some favors with an old friend who knows people, and… voi-fucking-lá. We have an in.”

“Good luck, then.” You smiled, turning to fully look at him. “You're gonna need it.”

You were not expecting it when he left a lingering kiss on your forehead before walking away.

If there was a strange feeling growing on the back of your throat, you tried your best to ignore it. It stayed there as you watched Corroded Coffin perform what you thought was their best night there, their music rising and rising the crowd until they broke like a wave, manic guitars and heavy drums working them for their own pleasure.

It stayed until the clock struck midnight, and Eddie threw a kiss at you from the stage, and you pretended to catch it in the air and place it in your heart. Somehow, that felt more intimate than the dozens of couples kissing all around you.

All hell broke loose after the band left the stage.

The DJ returned, where he would stay until the bar closed, and as everyone scattered around the bar, it was the usual pandemonium you were already used to, but with much more people. The bar was busy, which meant you were busy, but not too busy to sneak a shot or two with Steve and Robin, or watch the former flirt with Heather behind the bar.

Eddie and the boys were all around, talking to everybody. It felt nice to see them in their element, especially Eddie with his big gestures and loud personality — he was right at home, there. It felt even nicer when you managed to cross each other, his hands always finding a way to touch you, to let you know he was there.

As good nights, though, that one also had to come to an end.

It started to crumble when you had a full tray of beers, and a man bumped into you. You tripped, but didn't fall, thanks to all the practice you'd had. The man grabbed your waist, then, harshly. “Whoa, there! Falling for me already?”

“You wish. Let go.” You responded, curly, already trying to escape. It wasn't the first time you dealt with one of these types, and it wouldn't be the last. Keeping your cool was the best you could do in a situation like this.

“Not yet. Let me show you a good time, baby.”

“I said let me fucking go.” You gritted through your teeth. Some people around started to notice, and it wasn't long until they started staring. His hands started to lower on your hips, whining some you couldn't understand through slurred speech, until you felt someone push the man's shoulder.

“She said let go, man. You heard it the first time.”

“Not right now, pretty boy.” He pointed at Eddie, and you saw an opportunity to pull yourself away, and didn't resist stepping on his foot, hard.

“Asshole. Get the fuck out of here.”

The man’s face grew red with pain, and anger, no doubt. “Bitch!”

You heard Eddie let out a bitter laugh before his face was flying at the man’s face, who upon impact, lost balance and barrelled into you again, but with full force this time, sending the beers on your tray flying, glass shattering on the floor, and beer spilling onto you.

It was like being in the middle of a hurricane. Eddie fought the guy, who was already on the floor, as the boys came running to drag Eddie away. Robin, with Steve on her tow, pulled a startled you by the hand and away from there. Her and Heather lead you towards Linda’s office at the back, but all you wanted was to look back.

In your haste, you'd left the door unlocked.

The bathroom inside the small office room was cramped, but better than the ones outside. Robin had offered to come in with you, but you wanted to cool off alone. She waited outside as you attempted to clean yourself, your black top hanging from the sink as you wiped the drink off your chest with paper towels.

Your heart still beating fast in your eardrums, though the adrenaline was starting to wear off, made you tremble a bit, a cold shiver going through your body. You didn't know if it was relief that nothing worse happened, or if it was the phantom memory of Eddie’s hands gripping your body close to his.

You sighed, looking at your disheveled self in the blurry, dirty mirror.

The door handle rattled behind you, and you answered without looking. “I'll be right out, Rob.”

“Buckley is outside with Harrington and the bartender chick.” There's a slightly injured hand, free of the usual rings adorning it, holding the door a few inches open, and a face obscured by overgrown bangs. “Can I come in?”

Through your daze, you made yourself a reminder to trim Eddie’s hair when you could.

Sensing his hesitation, you smiled as best as you could through your reflection, feeling too vulnerable to look back. “Yeah. Of course.”

Quietly, — too quietly for Eddie — he came in and the door clicked closed behind him, but he didn't move, staying still with his back against it. You realized he was probably trying to make himself smaller, as to not scare you even further. Your heart grew warm while your body still shivered.

“Is everyone alright?”

When you turned, you noticed you were mirroring each other's positions. Trying to stay as far as possible in that tight space, arms pressed to yourselves, as the red string between you pulled and pulled and pulled, strained to the point of breaking.

It didn't, it wouldn't.

“Yeah, they kicked the guy out. Uh… I kicked the guy out, actually, and the guys helped, but yeah.” He chuckled nervously. You couldn't see them, but if you had to guess, the tips of his ears would be bright red. “Linda threatened him to never come back with that pistol she keeps under her desk, you should have seen it.”

You giggled despite yourself, “Man, how could I have missed that.”

“Are you alright?” Big brown eyes stared at you from across the small room and, as they always did, disarmed you completely.

“I'm alright.” You turned again, reaching to give your wet top a thorough squeeze before putting it on again. “Didn't get hurt, just got wet…”

You forced a laugh, but Eddie didn't return the sentiment. When you looked back again, he wasn't looking at you anymore.

He was crouching, picking something off the floor. The ceiling light wasn't on, just the yellow one over the mirror, and you struggled to see what it was until he straightened himself up, shuffling on his boots. The first thing you noticed on his right hand was a silver chain, and at the end of it, a red guitar pick. It must have fallen while you took your top off in a hurry.

You knew it like the back of your own hand. It was slightly chipped at the bottom, the scaly red slowly losing its former glossy finish, the faded Fender logo at the center of it.

You knew he knew it too.

“Where did you get this?”

A hand stretched between you, like a long corridor in a dream. Just within your line of sight, but unreachable. The necklace hung from it, limp, its silver chain glinting in the yellow light of the flickering lamp.

When you didn't answer, Eddie’s voice hardened. “I'm not gonna ask again.”

Your eyes were focused on the red guitar pick, not on his face. You swallowed hard, “I think you already know.”

“No, I don't.” He emphasizes it with your name, and it hurts you to hear it. The atmosphere changed completely, then. “I lost this years ago after a show in Indy, but you were already gone. Where did you get it?”

Eddie's voice trembled with something you only describe as betrayal. There was grief too, somewhere in there. Your shattered heart ached, but you couldn't find it in yourself to say something. Anything.

“What have you been hiding from me?” He had never sounded this quiet. It scared you.

“Nothing you don't already know.” You mumble, staring at the floor. “Like I said, I think you already know.”

Frustrated, he stomps his feet, but you don't flinch. “Goddamnit! Just tell me. Tell me. I want to hear it from you.”

“So, you do know?”

Narrowed eyes met in the middle. The red string tensed, and bent — does it break? Could it, ever? Sometimes you wished you could snap it. For his sake, not yours. But all it did was stretch impossibly tighter, like the fist that closed itself around your heart.

“I don't…” Eddie's eyes glistened in the dark, whiskey dark, swimming in murky waters. “I feel like I don't know you like I thought I did.”

You broke first, approaching the door with trembling legs, like a deer in headlights. The two of you stared at each other closely for what felt like more than just a mere moment, unsaid things hanging heavy in the air.

“Did you ever?”

It doesn't break, but bends, and bends, and bends.