#i guess has me in a chokehold and it's BAD it makes me so upset

[toodleoorblx]

**SPOILERS AHEAD BEWARE**

Agatha All Along just came out, heres what I think about it.

So, starting off with the cinematic factors of it, I loved it. it was exactly what I was expecting, nothing less. I was very surprised with the plot though. It was so so funny, I had watched it with one of my friends and she loved it as well. Props to all who were apart of Agatha all along. The references of witchy movies, like the trap door and Snow White? I loved that Easter egg, I probably sound crazy but I swear it’s there.

I loved how dramatic Agatha was, her sarcasm, her impaticnce, her wickedness, spot on, even her haterd for Wanda. Agatha has lots of emotions, as much as I can tell. She just conceals them so much. She looks conflicted and angry when she sees Rio, she seems playful and antagonizing with Jen, laid back with Lilia, dismissive with Alice, impatient with Ms. Davis, and genuinely irritated and annoyed with Teen. She seems much more open on the show, less… distant and cruel? Maybe it’s the many many fics I’ve read that’s clouding my judgement but I was surprised to say the least. But it wasn’t a bad one. I love Agatha in this, there’s so much to tell about her her life, and I’m hyped to find out what’s up.

(Side note, one of my predictions was right! Rio's magic is in fact not something that can be taken. That was one of the few predictions I had made, and I'm so glad that that little detail was right.)

And Rio?! Oh my goodness, she's just as cryptc and lore filled as I imagined her. Her harshness with an underlined gentleness is killing me! And her licking Agatha’s hand better? Oh my that had me in a chokehold, so many golden ideas portrayed beautifully. And I have reason to believe that Agatha sacrificed Nicholas. The first sign is the childhood bedroom from episode one, Agnes being upset about it, two, the jab that Jen made, and three, when Rio mentioned the Darkhold, and its darkness, theres definitely some lore there, and I think it’s something that Agatha caused. Also does anyone have any clues as to what Rio says when she makes her dramatic exits? I only know some Spanish, but I’m not fluent 😭

Anywho, let’s talk about Teen. So when I first saw him I was fairly surprised. I didn’t expect him to try and steal something, nor did I know that it was an illusion of some sort? Maybe? Whatever it was, I know that Teen is not to be underestimated. He has some powerful qualities, even if it’s not as flashy as Agatha or Wanda’s. I love his perkiness and how he’s just happy to be there, even if it is as Agatha’s ‘pet’.

My next victim is Lilia. I had originally thought that she couldn’t use her magic or, predictions freely, only when vision came. But I was happily wrong. I don’t think she can use it whenever though. I love her style as well, such a level of grace and colorfulness really brings her character together. Patti did a fantastic job of portraying someone as kooky as Lilia.

Now we have Jen. I knew that they had some history because if something Kathryn had said on an interview, but I don’t think it was a lot. But clearly something went down to make Jen have a level of hatred towards her. But besides that, I get aesthetic, the pinks, the candles, the jewelry? It’s all so beautiful, I especially loved the septum piercing. It was a cute touch. Anyways, moving on from that, Agatha had mentioned that Jennifer is magic bound because of some curse? I wonder what that’s about. Over all, I adore Jen’s personality, I love how she knows what she’s worth and that she seems to always know what to say. She’s very confident of herself which is something I live to see. And I can see how Jen’s sarcasm and Agatha’s sarcasm may clash from time to time.

Moving on, we have Alice to discuss. Now I have written a little about how I portrayed her in my fic Natural Order, and I think I got her pretty well. I surprised myself I’m gonna be honest. I was half expecting her to be the exact opposite, but that’s a happy accident I guess. Anywho, I love her style as well, I wish we got to see more if the ship she had formally worked at, it was such a cozy and spooky place, I wouldn’t mind working there myself. The designers outdid themselves truly. Alice is very dismissive, and is always one step ahead, I love that about her (so far). She seems to be pretty laid back, while also being very vigilant as well.

Lastly, but certainly not least, Ms. Davis. I find her absolutely darling, she was so sweet and I had a good laugh when she came on screen. I love her obliviousness and utter happiness to be included, similar to Teen in that way. I hope she sticks around, u trying so, there’s not a bone in my body that doesn’t like her, she’s such a good ‘temporary’ addition to the coven.

The Salem seven seem to be like… the witch police? Maybe? I’m excited to see more of them.

Honorable mention: Senor Scratchy serving as always.🫡

A little treat I took:

(Also, height difference??!!! Loved that shot.)

[hirofall]

Little Luke Skywalker hc’s

I love him so much he literally has me in a chokehold ANYWAYS

•He has a pretty big age range (1-8) but it’s more common for him to be around toddler ages

•SO CLINGY.Once he’s in his cg’s arms he’s not letting go.It’s like he’s superglued to them now

•Either quiet or loud.There’s no in between,it just depends on his mood.Some days he’s just quietly watching cartoons or playing,other days he’s running around the falcon screaming as he has a play fight with his toys

•He loves mushed peas.Very random I know,but trust me on this one I know he loves them

•He’s always confused,tilting his head and looking around with his adorable big eyes and it’s the cutest thing

•When he’s regressed on the younger side he loves being fed so much.No matter if it’s his bottle or just a normal meal being spoon fed to him,he’ll be happily squealing

•There’s no denying it,he does throw tantrums.Especially when someone doesn’t understand what he wants or needs at the moment.He’ll go from quietly sitting around to wailing and kicking on the floor.He’ll be all good after a few cuddles and a little talk about why he was feeling bad and how throwing a tantrum isn’t the answer

•He has a lot of trouble communicating what he wants,especially when he’s feeling pretty young.Even when he’s perfectly able to just say what he wants/needs,sometimes it just doesn’t come out and that really upsets him

•Sometimes in the middle of the night his cg will be woken up by him,tears threatening to spill out of his eyes,suckling on his pacifier and just being like “mmh🥺” and then his cg will have to try to guess because obviously they wouldn’t get an answer to “What’s wrong,sweetheart?” Some juice and cuddles later he’ll be asleep safe and sound again

•He loves Chewie so much!At first the others were a little worried that Luke may be scared of him when he’s little,but it turned out to be the opposite.When he’s really young he especially loves to feel his fur because it’s so soft

•He can be a bit clumsy at times so they have a whole drawer full of fun little band-aids

•Despises being alone so much,he needs to be as close to others as possible

•Usually regresses involuntarily when he feels either really comfortable or really uncomfortable

•LOVES COLORING BOOKS

I HAVE SO MANY MORE I’M PROBABLY GONNA MAKE A PART 2 VERY SOON BECAUSE I LOVE HIM SOSOSO MUCH

[eemamminy-art]

I've been sitting on a fic that I finally finished after slowly picking at it for the last two years.

I feel like people don't really talk about this anxiety around sharing things-- I mean, there is always that anxiety of like, is it good, will people like it, stuff like that, but I guess for me the anxiety's a little different. Don't get me wrong I do have the other anxiety too, I'm very self critical and I do not have confidence in my writing in the same way that I (occasionally) have confidence in my art.

But the thing that's got me in a chokehold is well, that fanfic is complicated for me.

I barely read any fic at all. I barely write either, but I think a lot of writers will only put out a couple of things in a year anyway, but they're at least reading things during that time.

I've never been much for reading. Well, maybe when I was very young and just learning to read, but at some point it became really difficult for me. I don't have any official diagnosis and I always got good grades so there was never any cause to look into it, but reading has always been such an ordeal for me. I'll read a page and get so distracted in outside noises or my own thoughts that I have no idea what I just read. I have to concentrate really deeply for anything to sink in, create a voice in my head to read it to me, and even that sometimes doesn't work and I'm really slow. I use a screen reader and that does help but it still takes immense concentration for me.

Then there's just well, my pickiness. If it's boring or out of character, well that just makes it all the more difficult to focus. Too long and the screen reader's voice begins to drone and I tune it out and my thoughts wander away even as I scan the words going by. If it's not tagged well and I run into my trigger (which is often not tagged for at all) then I not only feel like I wasted my time but also am upset and lingering on the trigger for sometimes hours, sometimes days.

So then, what to do when I post a fic? What justification is there for anyone to bother with mine when I won't bother with theirs? Whether my reasons are good enough or not, whether it's easier for them to read than it is for me, whether you say fandom is give and take or not, I feel like I'm not upholding my end of the deal. You read mine, I read yours. Except I don't, other than maybe a handful of things each year.

And I know it's a problem. I know it makes people feel slighted. It's the same way I feel slighted when I try to engage with other artists and they don't give me the time of day or share my art in return, and then I begin to resent them for the rejection. I'm certain the same thing happens to me with fanfic, that I have all these reasons for why I rarely read fic, and then when I read the 2 or 3 fics that I can manage each year, it's a slap in the face to those who weren't among those rare few.

So I feel held back by it. I'm so bad at responding to ao3 comments too because I feel guilt about it, about not participating in the way everyone else does. So I was excited to finally think of an ending to this fic only to just... do nothing with it.

I have to wonder if anyone else experiences this? Or something similar? Or knows at all what I mean?

[hella1975]

any laurel hell songs that remind you of taob? 123go :)

oh godddddddddd okay okay okay

stay soft - this feels like a general zuko song just because of 'you stay soft, get eaten. only natural to harden up' but also someone on tiktok commented that the polar vibe of the sad lyrics vs the happy beat made it feel like 'having a breakdown at a party' and that really struck something in me?? like that very specific vibe of being in an happy place where you want to be but just feeling yourself fall apart inside and NO ONE even realises, and it actually reminds me a lot of the zuko alone chapters? like he's back home he's in the place he's aimed for this entire time but he's so unhappy and he's detached from it

everyone - SOKKA SONG?!?!?!?!?! like just the kind of smartass vibe to the first few lyrics but quickly going to 'and i opened my arms wide to the dark, i said; "take it all, whatever you want". i didn't know that i was young. i didn't know what it would take' LIKE WHAT???? his insistence of giving everyone every part of himself because he just holds himself to such a high standard, has to be the one to protect and provide and sacrifice, and the way it's not worded 'i was young; i didn't know what it would take' as in he was naive and shouldn't have blindly trusted the world not to take so much, but instead 'i didn't know i was young' as in he hasn't even realised how much he's suffered yet. LIKE? this boy has been severed so completely from his youth and innocence that it just doesn't get addressed. he doesn't realise that him being a child still is an issue, because he's been at war his whole life just as much as he's been a child his whole life, so what should it matter? and then 'i didn't know what it would take' how he just offers everything and doesn't know what to do when the world takes and takes and leaves him with nothing. this isn't very taob but i just have so many feelings about him and this song :(

the only heartbreaker - lowkey??? zuko and azula??? one caring to the point all he does is make mistakes, and in turn desperately hoping she'll mess up too because at least it means she cares enough to crack just a little bit. this will get expanded on...

there's nothing left for you - this VERY vividly makes me think of hakoda looking at zuko in the immediate moments after he killed fong. like every time i listen to this song i can't picture anything else but them all in the library, and it's chaotic and there are guards at the door and people are arguing, but hakoda catches zuko's eyes and is just so aware that there's nothing here for him now. he did what he came for. he needs to go his own way before he ever comes back. and also his awareness of the injustice of it 'you could touch fire, you could fly, it was your right, it was your life'. he knows that fong deserved it. he knows it was zuko's right to take this life. yeah

i guess - hello my favourite song of the new album ur so sexy u look so good for me to play as i spiral <3 honestly just the 'it's been you and me since before i was me. without you, i don't yet know quite how to live' makes me so mental and could apply to quite a few parts of taob. hakoda, kanut and bato. tomkin and nanook. zuko and azula. but because i have no self-preservation im gonna say zi se and lanse and run before you guys kill me. 'from here i can say thank you'

[hasquetzorkukudoneanythingwrong]

Is family for forever?

(Warning, sexual themes included)

One day, while in chaldea, Rex was on his way back to his room after some time farming. Once he opens the door, he's greeted to an interesting sight.

*door opens*

Rex: finally, time to na- oh fuck!

???: Hola, Rex ;)

Before him laid his sister in law, Caster class servant, Tlazolteotl. Aztec goddess of sin and lust, with her breasts laid bare.

Rex, covering his eyes: Tlaz! What the fuck!?

Tlaz: mmmm.... just waiting for you to come back... wanting a bit of fun...!

Rex: Tlaz! I'm married! To your sister!

Tlaz: I know.... but I'm the patron of adultery remember? So it shouldn't be surprising for me to ask....

Rex: but I'm not a fucking adulterer!

Tlaz: I can change that

Rex: unlikely!

Then the door opens, and Quetz walks in.

Quetz: hola? What's happen- oh! Hermana! Que estas haciendo?!

Tlaz: my job! Technically....

Rex: mi corazon! It's not what you think!

Quetz: I know mi amor, I should've figured she'd pull this.

After a bit, Quetz is seen taking Tlaz out of their room, while Tlaz covers her breasts with her top.

Quetz: ques eso?! Why'd you do that?!

Tlaz: you already know! I'm supposed to test spouses of their loyalty!

Quetz: even for Familia?!

Tlaz: especially for familia!

Quetz: pendeja! Don't do that!

Tlaz: I need to make sure he'd never cheat on you!

Quetz: I already know he won't!

Tlaz: it is my duty to do that, and I want to make sure you won't have your heart broken!

Quetz: ok! Just make sure you don't do it again!

Tlaz: fine! I won't....

Quetz: good!

Some time later, the chaldea group ends up visiting the Enma-tei again. Rex and Quetz decided to go pay the onsen a visit. Rex finishes getting ready but Quetz isn't done yet.

Rex: mi corazon?! You ready to go yet?

Quetz: not yet mi amor! Just a while longer! Just go in without me, I'll be coming!

Rex: okay!

Then Rex enters the onsen, waiting for her to come to him. But while he was waiting, he heard a voice talk to him.

???: Hola Rex...

Rex, surprised: oh!

After recovering from the spook, Rex sees that not far from him was Tlazolteotl again, also enjoying the onsen

Rex: oh... hey there Tlaz...

Tlaz: this onsen thing's pretty nice y'know... reminds me of my temazcals back home.

Rex, nervously: ye-yeah... hehehe... makes sense...

Tlaz: you ever want to visit one of them?

Rex: hehehe... maybe one day with Quetz...

Tlaz: I can accompany you though....

Rex: Tlaz... didn't you already talk to Quetz about this....

Then Tlaz got a bit too close....

Tlaz: oh come on! It's just a steam bath! I'm not gonna... do anything... to ya

Rex: too close! Too close!

???: Hey!

Then Rex and Tlaz looked up to see Quetz at the edge of the bath

Quetz: Tlazolteotl! This again!?

Rex: mi amor!

Quetz then gets in the water and pulls Rex away from her sister (and unintentionally into her breasts)

Quetz: we talked about this! You said you were done!

Tlaz: sometimes they need more testing! And this was a good opportunity!

Quetz: once is already more then enough! Mi amor would never cheat on me! So stop it!

Rex: uh-uh... mi corazon...?

Quetz: in a second mi amor. *back to Tlaz* I am warning you hermana! Do not do that again! The only reason I'm not putting you into a chokehold right now, is because we're family! And we're both naked in a bath right now.

Tlaz: that'd be hot!

Quetz: calliete!

Quetz is then seen taking Rex to the other side of the bath, away from Tlazolteotl.

On another occasion, Rex is on his way to the kitchen to get some snacks. But on the way... he sees one room... leaking steam for some reason...

Rex: huh...? Steam?

Out of curiosity, he gets a bit closer...

Rex: why is there just... steam... leaking out?

He then opens the door a bit...

Rex: I kinda have a bad feeling about this....

He slowly opens the door a lil more...

Rex: hello?

???: hola...;)

Then Rex sees... Tlazolteotl... again.

Rex: ...why aren't I surprised?

Tlaz: oh Rex, I just thought I'd turn my room into a temazcal... since I figured chaldea could definitely use one, y'know?

Rex: that's nice! I think I'll go now!

But as Rex turns to leave, Tlaz appears right in front of the door, blocking him, with basically nothing covering her body.

Tlaz: what's the rush?! C'mon! Join me!

Rex, nervously covering his eyes again: n-n-nah! I'm good! I just wanted a snack at the kitchen is all!

Tlaz: oh... I've got a snack for you al-

Then as she's talking two arms wrap around her waist and she's put into a powerful German suplex!

Quetz: RAAAAHHHH!!!!

*SLAM!!!*

After Quetzalcoatl delivered the powerful move onto her sister, Tlazolteotl is seen knocked out on the floor.

Quetz: again!? Why can't she stop!? *sigh*

Quetz then drops her sister onto her bed and covers her up.

Rex: I knew she tested couples but... I didn't think she'd do it so much.

Quetz: this isn't normal! She's being annoyingly assertive about it!

Rex: I'm sorry she keeps doing that... I don't like seeing you upset...

Tlaz: it isn't your fault mi amor! She's just... she has good intentions I guess... but.... it's still annoying.

Quetz then took Rex by the hand and took him to the kitchen, let's try not to think about it! I'll make sure we have much better memories about each other instead!

Rex, excited: ok mi corazon!

Then years later, after the world was saved, Rex and Quetz moved to Mexico city to start their lives together properly. They had just finished unpacking all their stuff in their new home!

Quetz: *sigh!* finally, mi amor! This is starting to feel like home now!

Rex: yeah! It's so nice! Can't wait to spend our lives together in this new home!

*ding dong*

Quetz: hmmm? Were we expecting anyone?

Rex: not that I know of...

Rex then opens the door, with Quetz close behind, and in front of them is Quetz's sisterz Tlazolteotl.

Tlaz: hola! How are you guys?!

Immediately Rex hides behind Quetz, while Quetz looks at her sister with an annoyed look.

Quetz: ...what are you doing here?

Tlaz: I just wanted to help welcome you guys to your new home!

Quetz: right...

Tlaz: something wrong?

Tlaz: hermana! It is my duty to test someones loyalty!

Quetz: you already know what's wrong. Your annoying history of trying to tempt mi amor.

Quetz: and that duty has been fulfilled! Tres veces! You're done! No mas!

Tlaz: I'm looking out for you Quetz! I don't want your heart broken!

Quetz: me and mi amor have been together for YEARS! I think I'd know by now if he'd cheat! And he hasn't!

Tlaz: are you sure!?

Quetz: ...don't! Do not imply he's cheated behind my back!

Tlaz: I don't want to, but the possibility is always there....

Quetz: *sigh* just leave...

Tlaz: why?

Quetz: please leave now, before I get angrier at you!

Tlaz: ...fine... I'll leave...

After Tlazolteotl leaves, Rex asks Quetz a question.

Rex: ...is everything ok, mi corazon?

Quetz: *sigh* it's fine mi amor... I understand she has good intentions but... all she's doing is hurting me... I know you'd never cheat on me... I just wish she'd get the message!

Rex: I'm sure eventually she will.... she just doesn't seem to see how much it hurts you...

Quetz: honestly... I'd be more then ok with not seeing her for a very long while. I love her but... it's annoying.

Rex: yeah...

After a while, the two finish up their dinner. It starts to get late, and the two want to turn into their room.

Quetz: ok mi amor, I'm going to clean up.

Rex: need any help?

Quetz: no mi amor! It's not too much, just head back to our room! I'll join you very soon ;)

Rex: ok!!!

Then Rex heads back to their room to wait for Quetz. But once he opens the door... he sees Tlaz on their bed, just like the first occasion her breasts were bare and she was trying to seduce him.

Tlaz: Hola Re-

*door slams shut*

Rex: fucking hell!

Quetz, from the kitchen: what's wrong mi amor?

Rex: Tlaz was in our room!

Quetz: OTRA VEZ?!

Then Quetz is seen dragging her sister out of their home.

Quetz: another time!? Didn't I make it clear I don't like you pulling that!?

Tlaz: I'm trying to look out for you herm-

Quetz: ALL YOU'RE DOING IS HURTING ME!!!

Tlaz: You know I'm not trying to do tha-

Quetz: it doesn't matter what you're TRYING to do!!! What you ARE doing is hurting me!!! Good intentions don't mean anything if the results hurt others! Especially those you care about!

Tlaz: I'd never want to hurt you but, I don't want you to get hurt if he-

Quetz: XAVIER WOULD NEVER DO THAT!!!!

Quetz: ...he loves me!

As Quetzalcoatl said that, she started to tear up a little.

Tlaz: is that his real na-

Quetz: it doesn't matter! I don't know what makes you keep doing that! You gain NOTHING from it!

Then Quetz stops yelling, getting quieter but still just as angry.

Quetz: in fact... you just lost a sister!

Tlaz: wait! No! Don't do this Quetzalcoatl!

Quetz: it's too late! I'm done with you! I NEVER want to see you again!

Tlaz: I was just-

Quetz: I already told you! You're intentions mean nothing! When the results are just you hurting me! Now get out!

Tlaz: b-b-but

Quetz: GO!

Then Quetz goes back into the house and slams the door shut!

And then Tlazolteotl started to tear up from what happened...

Tlaz: hermana...? I just... I just wanted to...

Tlaz, internally: did I go too far? I was just looking out for her.... I shouldn't have done that.... WHY did I do that!? Why couldn't I get the message until now!

Then she leaves....

Back inside, Rex sees that Quetz had been crying

Rex: mi corazon! What happened?!

Quetz: *sniffle* I'd rather not talk about it...

Then Rex hugs her

Rex: you don't have to if you don't want to, but I'm here if you need it.

Quetz, hugging him back: gracias mi amor. I just... I'm just hurt... is all... I'll be fine...eventually....

Rex: I know you will be! You're such an amazing goddess! You can recover from anything!

Quetz: *sniffle* I love you so much mi amor... you make me so happy.... I don't know what I did you deserve you....

Rex: let's head to bed... you need the rest

Quetz: si....

A/N: and those are the incidents where Tlaz went too far.... I know I presented it kinda jokey in some posts, but I thought I'd make it far more serious in execution. Also retconned it to 4 incidents instead of 5. Eventually I'll write the two reconciling but for now... things aren't ending well.

Tags

@havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong @hasjalterdoneanythingwrong @hasbbdoneanythingwrong @haskamadoneanythingwrong @hasmataharidoneanythingwrong @hashokusaidoneanythingwrong @hasereshdoneanythingwrong @hasishtardoneanythingwrong

[sierraraeck]

Why Men Suck

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Reid has to talk to Aundreya about what’s happened and try to explain himself. Aundreya has an unexpected visitor in a high stress situation. Story eleven.

Category: Angst.

Warnings: Cussing. Shots fired. Very quick mention of suicide. Implied abusive relationship.

Word Count: 3.4k

I walked into the office with a whole new demeanor. A whole new attitude. A whole new level of confidence.

I was a whole new person.

I wasn’t exactly the old street and prison me, but that was a lot closer than the pathetic, emotional version who’d possessed my body for the last year and a half.

I walked in with a new fire in my eyes, a new growl in my voice, a new ice block in my chest. I walked in like I owned the place. And everyone could feel it.

“Hey, Aundreya,” Prentiss said, a little hesitation coating her voice.

“Hey,” I said, “Do we have a case?”

“I believe so. Hotch said he wants us in the briefing room in five,” she replied.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” I was in the hallway approaching a small table with snacks on it when he caught my attention. I was wondering when this would happen.

“Aundreya, wait,” Reid called after me.

I turned on him. “Why? What could you possibly say to me right now?”

He let out a huge breath. “Is this about what Morgan and I talked about on the jet?”

I put my hands out and cocked my head to the side, letting him know that was exactly what this was about.

“She’s just someone that I’m talking to for my headaches, and I knew she could help with the case.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.”

“We both know you are. Why would you need to call her on a payphone, then? Why would you need Tara to drive you there instead of me or Derek? Why have you been so secretive about who she is?”

“It’s because I just wanted to keep one thing-”

“Personal?” I finished, raising my eyebrows.

“That’s not what I mean,” he huffed.

“I think that’s exactly what you mean. And she must be pretty special if even the possibility of her getting hurt is worth risking both of our lives.” I started to turn away, heading back down the hallway.

“I didn’t-”

“Yes. You did. Last time I checked, you didn’t know for sure if that was even where she lived, yet you were willing to get shot and put me in the line of fire for her.”

“Aundreya, please,” he pleaded for me to let him explain, but there was nothing to explain.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve made what you want pretty clear,” I stood there staring into his sad eyes. I wanted to walk away so badly, but I just had to ask, “I just have one question for you. Did you call her that night?”

“What?”

I already knew he called her throughout those two weeks, and I realized that he even called her the night before we returned to work when I was freaking out about where he was. But I wanted to know if he called her right after we…

I swallowed. “That night. Did. You. Call her?”

He looked me dead in the eyes and responded, “No.”

It didn’t make it hurt any less, but at least he didn’t add insult to injury. I’d gotten my answer, so I pushed by him, heading back to the round table room, suddenly having lost my appetite. I didn’t even reach the steps before a loud bang echoed off the ceiling.

I whipped my head around and saw Reid in a choke hold, a man holding a gun to his head. But that wasn’t just any man.

That was my father.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

All of the desk workers who weren’t armed were clumped together near the coffee maker or were ducking under their desks. Anyone who was armed had their weapon drawn and aimed at my father. Our team members were all standing behind the railing to my right in a line, each one panicked and furious, guns trained on the man who held Reid.

He scanned the room until his eyes landed on me. A smile spread across his face and he said, “Hello, Aundreya,” he sneered, letting me know he knew about my name change.

“Hello, Joe,” I returned.

“What? Come on, no ‘hi dad?’” he fake-whimpered.

I scoffed. “We may be biologically related, but you are not my dad.”

“Ouch,” he smiled.

“Yeah, well the truth hurts,” I said, raising my eyebrows. That was what he always loved to tell my sister and I whenever he was trying to manipulate us into believing his lies.

He laughed. “Well it looks like I did teach you something after all.”

My emotions were on a whole new high. Everything seemed to be crashing around me, and one of the only honest connections I thought I’d made had just shattered. I was sick and tired of letting other people affect my emotions and the constant lies that people told and truths they deliberately withheld. “Yeah, you taught me that loving someone meant manipulating them and lying to them and degrading them and the ones they love. You taught me how to mimic those behaviors for my own personal gain. And you did a great job teaching me that I can’t trust men and that they can’t treat me right, especially in relationships,” I offered, my voice strong.

“Honey, that is not at all what I taught you.”

I wanted to vomit at his term of endearment. “Great, then I guess it’s your borderline personality and narcissistic genes that got passed down that made me this way. My bad.”

He shook his head in disbelief, that same smug look absorbing his features, but changed the subject. “So you’re in the FBI now, huh?”

“Sure am. I enjoy putting evil men away, envisioning that they’re you I finally get to put handcuffs on. Who knows? Maybe you coming here will finally satisfy that desire,” I said with a smirk, holding my gun up a little higher.

“Oh really? How are you going to do that? I mean, I guess you could, depending on how much you care about him,” he said, gesturing toward Reid with the gun still trained at his temple.

“Oh, him? Yeah, I don’t really know him,” I said. At the moment, that statement felt true.

“Are you sure? I thought I saw you two spending quite a lot of time together recently,” he said.

My eyes got wide. “You’ve been stalking me?”

“I have to say, you are quite a hard person to track down these days. I just wanted to make sure it was actually you. I’ve wanted to see you, talk to you, but I knew you’d never respond to me directly.”

“I can’t imagine why that would be,” I snapped.

“I just want to know that you’re doing well.”

“How considerate. Well I’m great, so you can leave now.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you all are just going to let me walk out of here,” he said. He turned his attention to the rest of the team. “So this must be the BAU?”

“Yep,” I said, popping the ‘p’, “Your point?”

“Are they really as great as I’ve heard?”

“We do close a lot of cases.”

“But are they good people?”

“Yes, they’re in the FBI. What are you getting at?” I’d had nearly every possible argument with this man, so I always had a good idea where things were going. But this? This confused me.

“Do you all really consider each other family?”

Then I got it. If he was trying to inflict the maximum amount of pain on me, he would want to know who I cared most about so he could hurt them.

“Not really. We just work together,” I stated. I didn’t want to add any more than I had to, especially if I was reading the situation wrong and he wanted to hurt people he thought were hurting me. By taking Reid as his hostage, I couldn’t tell which one was true.

“But what about this one?” he said, peering down at Reid.

“What about him?”

“You don’t consider this one family?”

“I just told you, even if I’ve been talking to him more recently, I still barely know him.”

“Uh-huh. So you wouldn’t mind if I just killed him, then?” he asked.

My heart was pounding. I knew that he was most likely trying to inflict maximum pain on me, so showing that I did care about him could be lethal, but I didn’t want to say yes and have him obey my wishes. The one time he would.

I took a deep breath, knowing if I hesitated any longer, he’d know my answer. “No. Not really. I mean, I don’t think you should kill anyone, newsflash it’s my job to make sure people stay alive, but if your question is if I have a personal sway one way or the other, the answer is no. He’s not as important to me as some of the others.”

Reid made eye contact with me, and the look of hurt in his eyes was devastating. He actually believed me. He genuinely thought that because I was mad, I would just flip that criminal switch and want him dead. I didn’t really know how to take that and I couldn’t think about it now. I had to stay focused. At least I had confirmation I was doing a good job being convincing.

But of all the things I thought I knew about shooters, about hostage situations, about my father, I did not anticipate his next move.

Joe approached me, shifting his aim from Reid, who was still in a chokehold, onto me. I stood my ground, refusing to cower under his advance. He tossed Reid like a rag doll in front of me, and without blinking, stepped around behind me. I felt the barrel of the gun swipe some hair out of the way, then come to rest on the back of my head as he commanded Reid to his knees.

This was going to be an execution.

“So you don’t think I, or anyone else, should be killing people? But what about you, daughter?”

I swallowed, vaguely aware of how he was using me as a human shield, not a single person behind him who could get a shot off. This one was on me.

“Those days are over,” I casually noted.

“Which days are you referring to? The killing days or the more recent scheming days?” he asked.

How much does he know? He couldn’t know about … That’s impossible. No one knows about that.

“Both.”

He laughed. “I guess we’ll see about that, ‘cause I don’t think you are getting out of this without having to tap back into those skills.”

“What do you want?” I asked, enunciating each word carefully.

“I want you to kill him.”

I refused to look down at Reid up until that point, but after that, I had to. I looked down at him looking up at me, his expression clearly wondering what I was going to do.

I may be angry and upset, but I would never do something like this to you, Reid. I willed him to read my mind.

“What?” I was still processing his request.

“You heard me. You kill him, and the rest of us walk out of here.”

I shook my head and right as I did, he pushed the barrel farther into my skull.

I knew I couldn’t turn around and shoot Joe: he would be able to shoot me much faster and would probably shoot Reid as well before the team could kill him. I knew I couldn’t kill Reid. That was just a given.

But there were three people in this equation, leaving me with one last variable to manipulate.

I turned the gun on myself.

I contemplated just dropping it all together, but I figured that would result in the first outcome I’d envisioned. But threatening to take away the person he wanted to hurt or force back into old habits, taking the common denominator away, I knew that would foil all of his plans. And I’m known for self preservation not being suicidal, so it would be a scenario he would have never considered.

“No.”

“What are you doing?” I could hear the slight panic in Joe’s voice, the same feeling reflected in Reid’s eyes.

“I said no. I told you, those days are over for me. If you want to hurt me, then you should know that the person I care the most about, above all else, is myself. What would you do if I decided to ultimately protect myself from you once and for all?” I asked. When I got no response, I concluded with, “So take me. I’m who you’re here for, right? So just take what you came for.”

“You seriously mean that?” he asked with a glimmer of hope.

“I’m not one to play games.”

He grabbed me by the arm and demanded I drop my gun, pressing his own to my temple. I did as he said, all but placing the gun in Reid’s hands, giving him one last look that tried to convey as much hope as I could without just winking at him.

I continued to walk slowly, Joe still using me as a human shield, on our path to the exit. He reached the glass doors and turned around, about to push through with his back. But I knew something he didn’t. Those doors were deceivingly heavy.

I used the back of my head to jam his nose into his skull, simultaneously ramming his head into the glass doors. They budged, but not enough to knock us both completely off balance. I cranked my body out of his grap, and turned around to face him, hitting him hard enough to disarm him. The shock of my blows gave me the upper hand as I reached for his weapon, claiming it as my own. I now stood in front of him, the tables having drastically turned.

“FBI. Put your hands up,” I said smugly. He wore an expression of pure rage which only increased the pleasure I got from this moment. “Joe Spade, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of multiple FBI agents.”

He put his hands up and I tossed his gun aside, quick to replace it with handcuffs. “It looks like I was able to not only get out of this situation without having to kill anybody, but also fulfill my fantasies of handcuffing you after all.”

I brought his hands down behind his back and tightened the cuffs as much as possible. I walked him forward a few paces so he could really get a good look at my team members.

“You see those people up there behind that railing? Those people are my family. They actually look out for me, and I will always look out for them. Those ladies over there? They are like my sisters, compassionate people I aspire to be like. And those men? They’ve taught me that good men and healthy relationships do exist. All of them have helped me overcome my trust issues and anxiety when it comes to opening up and letting people in. They’ve shown me what love truly looks and sounds like, and I’ve started to learn how to reciprocate. And you know what? They are the reason that I didn’t kill you,” I snarled, letting him, and the rest of the team, digest that. “Take a good, long, look. Because they are the only reason you are alive right now.”

I made him stand there for a few seconds, marinating in that information, before yanking him towards the door, handing him off to the officers that were to escort him down to a squad car.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

“Ohmygod! Are you okay?” Penelope squawked as she rushed toward me.

I couldn’t even get a response out before her lung-squishing hug surrounded me. I hugged her back but quickly answered, “Yes. I’m all good.”

“Are you sure? That was … I mean that was-”

“I know. And I’m okay,” I said with a reassuring smile.

“Did you mean all of that?” she asked me with hopeful, gleaming eyes.

“Yeah,” I replied, but I could tell that Rossi heard my uncertain undertone. For the most part.

“What was that?” Rossi interjected, stern but concerned. “You put yourself in harm's way and made a reckless, stupid, decision.”

Yeah because focusing on myself up to this point has worked out so well for me. I decided I’d try something new, and look at that, not giving a damn about my safety worked out for all of us.

I kept those thoughts to myself and opted for, “It worked out. I’m fine.”

“What's happened to you? You went from yelling at a guy who reminded you of your father to not even being phased by your own. Not to mention he was holding a gun on you,” Morgan acknowledged. I knew what he was getting at, all of them noticing my change in attitude this morning before all of the madness that followed.

“Well, shit happens. Things change,” I stated coldly. I saw Reid cringe from behind the rest of the group.

“And I guess so do people,” Rossi said pointedly.

“Yeah,” I finally looked at Reid, skimming my eyes up and down him, “They do.”

A moment of awkward silence passed over the group before Hotch said, “Let’s all take the rest of the day off. We’ll start on our new case tomorrow.”

The group agreed and each gave me their varied versions of condolences and then turned to check on Reid. Most of the rest of the bullpen had already left, receiving the same deal Aaron gave us, and our team started slowly breaking apart so they could grab their stuff. Soon, that just left Reid and I standing there. I went to walk by him on my way to get my stuff when he stopped me.

“Aundreya, wait,” he squeaked.

I turned to face him, waiting to see what followed.

“I know it doesn’t make this any better but I am sorry. I never intended for this to happen.”

“I believe you, but the damage has been done.”

“I know. I just … I don’t know-”

“Look Reid. Everything I said was true. I let my guard down, I let you in. I trusted you, which went against every instinct in my body telling me to run. For the first time in my entire life, I felt like I could breathe. Like I could actually breathe. Do you know what that feels like? For my whole life, I have been suffocating under the weight of my father, the Slaughterer, the streets, just waiting for the next bad thing to happen. I never knew what it felt like to just be okay and to feel safe. Until I met you. I had just started to break down my barriers, my entire belief system, because I started to understand that I was wrong, that not everyone is out for themselves, just manipulating me for their own personal gain then tossing me aside like garbage. I mean, you just met the one and only male role model in my life! That’s what I thought everyone, specifically men, were like! And just when you started to prove me wrong… I’ve tumbled all the way back down to square one. So was what you did world-ending? No. Is that the worst thing that could have happened, that you could have done? Definitely not. Our job proves that every day. But it felt pretty massive to me,” I ranted.

I didn’t mean to raise my voice or draw attention to the situation, but those thoughts had been playing an intense game of Pong inside my head for a while, and I just had to get them off my chest. It was Hotch and Prentiss that were straggling, and while they were out of earshot, they weren’t blind.

I let out a nervous laugh, absorbing the irony of the whole thing. “And you told me you would never hurt me,” I shook my head in disbelief, “Look at us now.”

I reached around him to grab my stuff and barreled toward the door without another breath.

It wasn’t fair of me and I knew that. We fucked and maybe that was it. It’s not like we were together and he was cheating on me or something. We actually had never even talked about what we were, and now, maybe we never would. I guess I would just have to accept that the whole thing, all the lead up and shit, was just a fling. A harmless, nothing-to-get-your-panties-in-a-wad-over, fling. So maybe I did dish out too much, and he didn’t really deserve all that, but I couldn’t worry about it now. I’d said it, and it made me feel better to say it, and I wanted him to know how much it hurt. Sure, he’d just had a gun to his head thanks to my father but so had I, and there really is no better time to get emotional than after a shared trauma.

I got home and laid on my couch, recounting the events of the day.

He mentioned my scheming. He couldn’t know, could he? But he seemed like he might’ve…

That would be yet another fun excuse to recount to the team, if they even remembered or felt courageous enough to ask.

But for the time being, I curled up on my couch, queueing up the series finale of ‘Sherlock.’

Taglist (open)

@justanothetfangirl

@kris-stuff

@wooya1224

[kisskissbanggang]

Standby pt. 2

[~10 Min. Read/3.2K Words – Bang Chan x Female Reader – Idol!AU – NSFW/Smut, Some Emerging Plot – Cunnilingus, Overstimulation, Impulsive Decisions, Stressful Job Situations, Sneaking Around, One-Sided Feelings(?), Acting Professional]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Masterlist | Feedback

Your sneakers slapped the bruised linoleum floor of the terminal, sprinting each time you were out of sight of a huge crowd. Honestly, you fit in with every other rushing traveler in the busy concourse. Time, as always, was of the essence, and you only had so much before this comically bad situation got worse.

The group had already been late leaving for the airport that morning. It was as rough of a time as any, only made worse by being in preparation of an international flight. Bags were being packed and reviewed, passports were being gathered, and everyone was already tired. By the time the group left the dorm, you all had barely any time to make your plane. Arriving at the airport, however, turned the whole debacle into an entirely different beast. Other countries, other industries, used service hallways and back entrances for high profile travelers. Hyun-Jae-unnie made it very clear to you from your first flight with the group that the whole point of going to the airport wasn't so much to travel as it was to be seen traveling. It was no secret that fans always mysteriously knew when the band would be flying.

On this particularly rainy morning, all the fanfare was waiting inside Departures like a bubbling volcano. The sliding doors opened and you flinched at the barrage of flashing lights as you all rushed through check-in and security. Pushing through a bombardment of various intrusions, both professional and not, you all finally made it onto the plane safely with only minutes to spare.

Until your mentor yanked on your carry-on strap. Hyun-Jae-unnie looked frantic, her eyes screaming.

"We're not all here. Didn't you do the head count while I checked us in?"

You could feel the color drain from your face. In all the commotion, you had only heard "head count" and nothing else. You'd assumed she was just saying that she was taking care of it.

"Because," she continued, her pallid complexion looking dire, "guess who just texted me as I was turning on airplane mode?" She pushed her phone into your hands.

Chan.

You whipped your head around. The rest of the boys and staff looked just as confused as you felt. Hyun-Jae-unnie snatched her phone back from you, her other hand clutching your shoulder.

"Fix it."

"But, Unnie -- " you began weakly.

"But nothing. I trusted you to do something, and since you didn't, now I'm trusting you to fix it. I know you can. So do it. Rehearsal is tomorrow morning, 8AM local time. Be there, with Bang Chan."

You had taken three minutes to hyperventilate in the jet bridge once you deplaned, and now you were sprinting through the terminal looking for your worst nightmare: a lost idol. An odd phenomenon caught your eye. Bands of students and teenage girls were milling about. You assumed you must be on the right trail. Time and time again you checked your phone, praying that Chan would get back to you since you texted him the moment you were off the plane. You began ducking into each and every shop on the concourse, looking down every aisle and around each display in hopes of finding him, all while attempting to not draw attention. You turned a corner in the shop you were currently searching when a hand darted out and clamped over your mouth. You were dragged back into a half bear hug, half chokehold, as you tried to gain all the will and strength you had left to unquestionably destroy whoever was daring to add to your misery today.

"Thank god I found you!" Chan quietly exulted. "This has been an absolute disaster." You spun around, excitedly flinging your arms around him before you could stop yourself. Embarrassed, tired, and despondent, you quickly regained your composure the best you could. You took a few minutes to pull yourselves together before you got the hell over it and set to work.

Moving quickly, you worked together to evade attention. You ducked into a service hall once you made sure the coast was clear. Your black face masks were swapped out for white spares you had in the bottom of your carry-on. You pulled off your light windbreaker and pushed it into your bag, pulling on Chan's offered flannel that he'd been wearing under his jacket, which he then threw into his own bag. Pulling out a beanie from the front pocket of his backpack, Chan finally felt ready to join you for your next step. You moved swiftly through the crowds back to the ticket agent desk, grabbing your IDs and going about setting up a new first class flight. You were assured by the agent that even though you were on standby, you had a good chance of getting on the next nonstop in an hour, a couple of booked customers being notorious for last-minute cancellations.

So that left an hour.

You flipped through any and all options for privacy in your head before suddenly realizing the best course of action. Grabbing ahold of Chan's arm, you made a beeline for the airline's guest lounge. It was oddly full for a weekday morning, but it seemed more than welcoming with its low light and bartender on duty. You gave the front desk attendant the information for the company account and, once inside, immediately pulled up a seat at the bar. You slipped off your face mask and practically inhaled the first drink you ordered, feeling just a little more relaxed at this late, late hour of 10AM. Chan settled in beside you and ordered you both a round.

"Thanks," he offered, playfully nudging his shoulder into yours. You shook it off.

"I said I'm always going to do right by you. Besides, it's my job." You gave him an exhausted, small smile.

"And you're good at it," he encouraged. "One minute I'm checking to make sure I have my wallet, the next I'm entirely lost with a whole mob of fans hunting me down. Hyun-Jae-noona may be a machine, but you'll be giving her a run for her money someday, and probably soon."

A humble blush seeped over your cheeks, but you knew it wouldn't last. Given the opportunity, Chan would inevitably bring up that evening backstage at Inkigayo. He'd been trying for weeks now and you'd skillfully dodged him time and time again.

"So," he began, with all the subtlety of a cannon, "we have plenty of time to talk about you and I."

"Hmm, no," you laughed, accidentally too meanly, firmly shaking your head as you maintained a hard gaze on your empty glass, "because there is no 'you and I'. I helped you out. Like I said, it's my job."

Out of the corner of your eye you caught Chan cock his head and frustratedly play with the case on his phone. "That isn't exactly in your job description last I checked, and I'm pretty sure you enjoyed it way more than you care to let on."

It wasn't. You did. But you were petrified to let Chan know that, for more reasons than just the most obvious one concerning your employment status. Despite those conflicting feelings, however, what was more pressing was how much Chan being upset made you upset in return.

"Right. Because that rests on a line way beyond the one I shouldn't have crossed in the first place, and I should've known better than to make suggestions to an idol thinking with his dick."

Chan slapped his hands down on the bar as he got up, letting out a spiteful scoff with an exaggerated shrug. "Better than taking suggestions from an intern who refuses to acknowledge she may have been thinking with her pussy. Now, if you don't mind, am I allowed to leave your sight to piss, or are you going to come watch me so you don't disappoint your bosses?"

You gawked, speechless and fuming as Chan turned heel and crossed the unusually busy lounge to the first of two private restrooms down the hall at the other end of the room.

Your mind raced, your heart pumped into your throat, your palms sweated, but worst of all was your stupid pussy betraying you at its mention. As you attempted to massage the TV static out of your temples, Chan's stupid, mesmerizing scent wafted into your nose from his flannel you were still wearing. Your stress headache was about to turn into stress nausea and making Hyun-Jae-unnie proud would only feel so good if you were lucid enough to enjoy it and god damn Chan for being so cocky and rude and right. Grappling both yours and his carry-on bags, you hauled them to the front desk attendant to be left in their care before you stormed across the lounge and all but kicked in the restroom door Chan had conveniently forgotten to lock in his anger. You were taken aback for a second, amused at how he wasn't even taking a piss. The man was just leaned back against the sink and tapping on his phone. You should've known; Chan used various forms of this tactic all the time back at the dorm -- walk it off and wait it out. But you weren't interested in waiting, nor walking it off. He cautiously looked over as you flipped the lock.

"Oh, so you do want to watch--" Chan sneered, stopped dead by you shoving him back against the sink and yanking down his mask before capturing his lips in a furious kiss. He pulled as far back from you as he could while being pinned up against the porcelain, waiting for your next move. This jerk was grinning. "What happened to not making it weird?"

"It's too weird to not be weird," you growled, shaking your head. "You want to see me thinking with my pussy? I'll fucking show you."

"You're a busybody, you know that?" Chan mused, mostly mumbled between your resumed kisses. You plucked off his beanie and threaded your fingers into his hair, winning a throaty groan from him as you tugged on his wavy tresses.

You dragged your lips from his own down to his neck, the skin there raising in goosebumps to meet your hot breath as you absently ground your hips against his. "Chris," you moaned against his throat, your special magic word already making him shiver, "tell me how much you've been thinking of me."

"Making assumptions, aren't you?" He chuckled before surprising you. He pushed you back, hips first, angling you back against the tile wall and caging you as his hands kept teasing to touch you. Each time he got close, he backed away a little more.

"Can't make assumptions when it's just facts," you smirked, breaking his concentration as you shoved him back against the sink. "Now tell me how much you've been thinking of me."

"Every fucking night," he breathed, eagerly following as you led his hands around your waist. "I've been losing sleep wondering how to get you alone. Not quite what I had in mind, but I'll take it."

"Well, you have me now, so you better make the best of this before I come to my senses." You slipped your hands under his shirt, finally letting yourself feel his taut stomach that you'd admired more than once when you'd caught glimpses of it. The groan under his surprised flinch made you clutch your knees together a little tighter.

Chan nodded firmly before leaning down and hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around him in one swift move. "Yes ma'am."

Was it dumb that those words alone struck up a tingle in your spine? You waited, curious as he spun and sat you on the edge of the sink.

"Have any ideas?" You asked.

"Just a few. Been thinking with my dick after all." He gently pushed you to lean back against the mirror above the sink, giving you a sly smile that faded the moment he went to pick the button of your jeans.

You put a hand on his. "What's wrong?"

Chan shook his head. "Is this stupid?"

A sigh erupted from your chest before you could stop it. "If I'm being candid, this is worse than stupid; it's dangerous. But you're really cute and I'm really enjoying myself. I think we can be stupid and dangerous once or twice."

"Well now we just sound reckless." You knew that look. Chan was on the edge of panic. You sat up on the ledge of the sink and gently took his face in your hands.

"Chris. Are you enjoying this? Do you like me?"

"Yeah," he nodded weakly. "Of course. You're gorgeous and you drive me nuts and I can't get enough of you."

"Then kiss me -- ah!" You interrupted, putting a finger to his lips and shushing him before he could continue being so wishy-washy. "Kiss me. It's not like it's our first or anything, but it'll calm you down and get you back in the game, I promise."

Chan fiddled with your fingers where they still rested on his hand.

"Or..." You ducked closer, attempting to catch his gaze. "You can say no. I won't deny I'm being a little selfish, but I'd never try to steer you wrong, Chris."

He thought about it. He really thought about it, still fidgeting with your fingers tangled with his before he suddenly had his same, goofy, self-assured smile. His other hand brushed your cheek, his rings there zipping cold against your skin before you were faced with his lips hesitating, meditating right before yours. You waited to close your eyes as if you'd miss something if you didn't keep watching, and he finally kissed you. It felt different: sweet, thoughtful, curious -- a wine you'd first tried under different circumstances but never really appreciated before, but now feared you'd take it for granted.

You gasped, dazed and startled like a shaken sleepwalker as Chan did, indeed, get back in the game. His hands gently pushed you to lean back against the mirror with renewed confidence and he was back on you, kissing you with new vigor as he tried once again to unfasten the button of your jeans. With newfound success, he grabbed the waistband of your jeans and swiftly yanked them down along with your panties, down to your knees where he paused for just a second. You couldn't help but smirk at Chan's momentary admiration of your pussy on the ledge of the sink. His eyes ticked up to meet yours, staying there as he slowly sank to his knees in front of you. He tugged your jeans down further to your ankles. He ducked under and between your legs, allowing you to spread your knees around him and let him take his time as his lips ghosted over your warm heat.

"Alright," he smirked, "I'm not exactly a pro at this, but--" His sudden groan was delicious as you raked your fingers into his hair and tugged him close, causing a premature kiss between his lips and your damp pussy. He quickly became accustomed after his initial taste, a deep moan following his tongue into your wet folds. You bit down a moan, your teeth digging into your lip as your hips rolled against Chan's tongue.

Your ears perked at the sound of a zipper and a small smile pulled at your lips, content to know how turned on Chan was to please you. A noticeable change occurred in his rhythm as his hands transitioned from clutching your thighs, to one gripping his rigid cock, the other beginning to dip into your dripping juices and tease your quivering hole.

"Is it good?" You asked, chest heaving and your head dizzy.

He pulled up, his shameless smile slick with you. "You're fucking delicious," he breathed.

The moment his tongue affectionately laved your clit in combination with his fingers slowly slipping inside your depths, you cried out, unable to hold back and earning the biggest shit-eating grin from the man between your legs. He resumed eating you ravenously, his tongue and fingers probing you in tandem as you slowly ascended your peak. Were the lights in this bathroom always so intense? Your knuckles were pale wrapped in Chan's hair, the veins beneath scripting thoughts you were still too afraid to say.

"Chris," you wavered, your thighs trembling where they sat on his shoulders, "I'm going to fucking cum --"

"Oh yeah?" He raised his eyebrows as his fingertips crooked up inside you. "Show me, baby."

Your cheeks washed crimson at the sweet name, nearly thrown off track but brought back the moment he resumed pumping his tongue and fingers together, the syncopated ministrations bringing you higher and higher until you couldn't hold it anymore. A bolt of lightning traveled up your spine, circling your head before finally striking. Your fingers knitted into Chan's hair, you cried out and roughly ground your pussy against his mouth as your orgasm washed over you.

But he didn't stop. He dug in harder, you could actually feel his dark smirk as you nearly screamed. He caught you just in time, shooting a hand up to clamp over your mouth as he kept tasting your dripping folds. After all, there was a room of people just outside.

"Chris," you whimpered into his palm, "please, please, please."

Please, stop? Please, more? You had no clue, your eyes were practically rolled back in your head.

He backed up just a breath away. "We don't stop until I finish," he moaned, his husky growl reverberating against your ignited nerves before he fucked you harder. Where was this new edge coming from? Something about it intrigued you to no end. A second peak came into view when an alarm suddenly went off on your phone. You regretfully kicked Chan off of you before digging the beeping monstrosity out of your jacket pocket.

"What is it?" Chan asked, bewildered.

"Oh shit," you wheezed, still coming back to earth, "we have to go. Come on. The gate is at the other end of the concourse."

Chan was left speechless for a second, still kneeling on the floor before sighing deep and shoving his hard-on back into his jeans. He watched as you swiftly -- and with eerie efficiency -- pulled your clothing back in place, checked your hair, and leaned down to wipe his dripping chin with your jacket sleeve after you re-situated his clothing as well. You pulled him to his feet, dragging him behind you down to the front desk and grabbing your bags before sprinting down the concourse, all the while digging new face masks out of your backpack and quickly snapping them on before arriving at the gate.

Thankfully, the seats you were vying for were open, and you could nearly hear applause as you hauled Chan down the jet bridge and got settled in first class. Finally, as the plane was taxiing, you pulled out your notebook to get some neglected work done. Chan, headphones on and looking agitated, reached over, plucked your pen out of your hand, and scribbled in the margin of your notebook page.

So, if I’m not going to finish, we at least definitely have more than enough time to talk now, right?

[To be continued.]

[nyroom]

The Ghosts of Childhood - Chapter 2

The Pines family adapts to this new change with mixed results. 

[AO3 Link] [Part 1]

All things considered, Stan took the news remarkably well. 

“So you’re sayin’ something came around and turned me into a kid?” He had echoed, scrunching up his face in thought for a moment. “Eh. I guess it could be worse.” 

To be fair, Ford had kept it simple and brief. There was no sense in telling Stan the reason he had gone out in the first place, just as there’d be no sense in explaining every shred of bitterness that had built up over the years. Stan was old, went out, and then wasn’t anymore. Anyone could understand. 

“And we’re your great-niece and nephew!” Mabel piped up, grabbing her brother in a side hug. “Your favourite great-niece and nephew, by the way.”

Ford almost corrected her that they were their only great-niece and nephew (unless there were more descendants of Shermy? Ford would need to investigate that once he was settled), but bit his tongue. For once, it wasn’t the time to play perfectionist. 

“Great-niece and nephew, eh?” Stan tapped his chin, a slow grin spreading across his face. “So that makes me the boss of you!” 

“Well, you’re younger than us right now.” Dipper corrected, straightening out his clothes from his sister’s hug/chokehold. From what Ford could tell, Mabel didn’t do her hugs by half measures.

Stan ignored this point, nodding to himself. “I’m the boss of people… Cool!” 

“Let’s not forget who the older twin is here, technically and literally.” Ford cut in next, shooting his brother a stern look. “So I’m the one in charge right now.” 

That made Stan deflate a little, crossing his arms and huffing defiantly. “Only by fifteen minutes!” He shot back, but kept it at that. For as stubborn as Stan was, that was certainly remarkable. Maybe now that they were farther apart in age, he would finally listen to Ford. 

Ha.

The annoyance passed quickly, Stan’s face brightening with realization. “So if Sixer’s an old man, then I’m an old man too, right?” He immediately rounded on Ford, leaning forward excitedly. “Did we fix the Stan O’War and go treasure hunting?”

Ford’s mouth shut with an audible clack. He had already told himself he wasn’t going to bring up the years of bitterness, but how was he supposed to answer that question without lying? ‘For unspecific reasons, we actually haven’t spoken in 40 years.’ That would never work.

He may be upset with Stanley right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to crush this child’s innocent naivety.  

“You run a business!” Mabel volunteered, saving Ford from having to answer. He wondered if she did that intentionally or not. “And you do have some employees, so you’re basically still a boss anyways!”

Stan’s eyes widened with wonder, childhood dream momentarily forgotten. “No foolin’? Wow! I bet Pa was real proud of me!” 

And here Ford thought it was impossible for this to get worse. 

The excitement in Stan’s expression crumbled a little at his audience’s stony faces, uncertainty creeping back into his features. He looked right at Ford, searching. “...He was proud of me, right? Stanford?”

The scene was so heart-wrenchingly familiar that, for a second, Ford wasn’t an old man with the threat of the world on his shoulders. He was a child, just like Stan, standing in a cave, hiding in a theme park attraction. His twin was so open and vulnerable, looking at Ford like he had all the answers in the world, pleading to tell him he was wrong. 

‘Do you really think I’m a bad kid?’

‘It just sometimes feels like Pa hates me.’

‘Do you know what it’s like being the stupid twin?’

‘I wish just once Pa would look at me the way he looks at you. Like he actually likes me.’

Truth be told, Ford had spent so long trying to bury Stan in his memories that he had forgotten all about his twin’s insecurities. His stomach twisted at the reminder. How long ago had those memories happened for Stan? How long had he felt like that in general? Probably longer than you’d care to admit.

Ford hadn’t wanted to lie to Stan if he could help it. Lies had never been Ford’s strong suit, not like they were Stan’s. Lies were liabilities, a misstep waiting to happen. They were messy and risky and something Ford would rather avoid altogether. Yet looking into Stan’s eyes, he knew he had no choice.

“Not just proud, Stanley. He was impressed.” He said, and his voice didn’t even shake. “You really beat him at his own game.” 

If at all possible, Stan looked even more starstruck than before. He looked back in the direction of the Gift Shop, blinking hard. Ford didn’t need to see his brother’s eyes to know they were damp.

It’s just a white lie. He told himself when Stan turned back to him with a thousand-watt smile. There’s no harm in a white lie or two. When Stan is back to his proper age, he’ll understand.

After that, the questions came at Ford rapid-fire. Really, he should have expected as much.

“So did we really go treasure hunting after all?”

“Yes.”

“Did we find lots of treasure and get all the girls?”

“Yes.”

“Did I open the business before or after we went sailing?”

“After.”

“Where’s all the treasure now?”

“Hidden away to protect it from pirates.” 

“What about the Stan O’War?”

“In a museum. We are world-famous adventurers, after all.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the younger twins exchanging a grimace and pretended he didn’t notice. The children just didn’t understand. It was easier to do things this way. If Stan knew the harsh reality their lives had taken, he may not be so quick to trust Ford and allow him to reverse whatever had done this to him in the first place. Stan didn’t have the emotional capability to handle the truth. This was for his own good.

He also pretended that the giddy smile Stan wore didn’t warm something within him, buried after so many years. 

Just because Stan is this way right now doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven him. I’m still justified to feel angry with him. When he’s his proper age, we’re going to have a very long discussion. 

“I told you it’d happen!” Stan proudly declared, reaching across the table to affectionately punch Ford in the arm. Ford pointedly ignored the memory of the last time Stan had punched him 30 years ago. 

Before Stan could launch into more questions, Dipper awkwardly cleared his throat. “Hey, uh, Great Uncle Ford? Do you think we could have some dinner?”

Right, Ford should have realized. Stan had left around midday and, apparently, hadn’t been back until just now. The children must be starving. That realization was followed by another, more daunting one: Ford would have to cook for them. 

Ford hadn’t cooked for anyone since he lived with Fiddleford, and even then that had been sparingly. Fiddleford had dubbed him a “fire hazard” when he accidentally added vinegar instead of pasta sauce; a clear overreaction. It wasn’t like he had done it intentionally, he had just been sleep-deprived! It could happen to anyone! 

“Of course, Dipper.” He responded, spite burgeoning him with confidence. He could cook just fine, thank you very much, Fiddleford. “You’re actually in luck, I was in the middle of cooking for myself when you all arrived. It shouldn’t be too much to whip up a bit extra.”

If he could survive the multiverse for 30 years, he could handle cooking for 3 children. It was just cooking more, after all. It wasn’t rocket science. What could go wrong? 

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

Evidently, a lot could go wrong. 

As it turned out, leaving food unattended in this house was a bad idea. Apparently, a pig - Mabel’s pet Waddles, Ford learned later - had taken the opportunity to indulge in the unguarded delicacies and left nothing to salvage when Ford returned. Never one to accept a setback, he had merely taken it as a sign that he needed to make something a bit more extravagant than plain old eggs for a family dinner.

After liberally covering the kitchen in food matter, utensils, and soot from a spontaneous fire, the family had made the decision to give the kitchen a much-needed break. This was what had lead to them piling into Greasy’s Diner, tucked into a booth near the end of the restaurant. Mabel tried to assure him that Stan had done much, much worse in the beginning. Ford got the impression she was just saying that to make him feel better.

Truth be told, the idea of being in town set Ford’s teeth on edge. While the Rift may be contained, it was in no way safe. Until Bill was defeated once and for all, he would never stop trying to get it. This made every citizen not only a target, but a suspect as well. They couldn’t afford to trust anyone. 

Ford had almost turned the idea down when it was suggested, but a look at the kitchen reminded him that he wouldn’t be able to provide the proper meal growing children needed. Instead, he settled on lecturing them at length about keeping on guard, making sure to keep it specific enough to dissuade questions and vague enough not to keep Bill’s name out of their mouths.  Worryingly, the children barely seemed fazed. 

Now, sitting in the diner as the group looked over the menu, Ford was struck with another troubling realization. While people were going to address him by his actual name, they were still going to think he was his brother. With Stanley right there, he couldn’t very well correct them, either. Not only that, but he’d need to think of a good excuse for why “Mr. Pines” suddenly had another child. 

Frustration surged through him at the thought and he found himself remembering the resentment he felt earlier today. Damnit Stanley, why do you need to make everything so hard?

Before Ford could entertain that thought further, he caught sight of an older woman in waitressing attire approaching their table. She had a lazy eye, but the eye that remained open was a perfectly boring hazel. Not Bill. Ford could relax a little.

“Stan!” She greeted, smiling brightly at him. “Did you get dressed up just for me?” 

Ford looked down at his clothes and inwardly cursed. If he had had the forethought, he would have taken the time to dress like Stan to compl-- wait a second. 

As he finished processing the woman’s words, he felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Of all the people in Stan’s life that Ford could have met first, why did it have to be someone he had been or was currently romantically involved with? He could barely woo his own partners when he bothered with romance, let alone his estranged twin’s. 

Luckily (or unluckily, in hindsight) for Ford, the woman soon shifted her attention to Stan and brightened even more. “And who’s this cutiepie?” Damnit, Ford hadn’t thought up a decent cover story for the town yet.

“My name’s Stanley!” Stan chirped, puffing out his chest at the compliment. He had always been more receptive to people’s praise, soaking it up like a sponge while Ford shied away from it. Ford supposed it was natural, considering how they were raised. 

 “He’s our younger brother who just got back from a trip to New Jersey!” Dipper cut in quickly, drawing the attention of four sets of confused eyes. He seemed to quail a little under the scrutiny, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uhh… Our parents decided to just send him here too.” 

There was a moment of silence, but only for a moment before Stan answered confidently, “Sure am! I can’t let my big siblings hog all the fun of camping up here.” Ford had forgotten how honed his brother’s lying was, even at such a young age. He hadn’t even stuttered. 

The waitress laughed and, thankfully, took their orders without pressing the issue further. Once she was gone, he smiled gratefully at Dipper. “Nice thinking, Dipper. Great work.” 

The boy flushed at the praise, eyes darting down to the menu as the hand rubbing his neck increased in pace. “Oh, uh! It was nothing… I just figured we probably should keep this under wraps until we get Stan back to normal.” 

Stan nodded his agreement, much more cooperative than Ford thought he’d be. “Makes sense to me, but won’t people wonder where I am? I mean, if I’m a world-famous adventurer and successful business guy an’ all…”

Right then. It would probably be best to get their stories straight before anyone else happened by. Though Ford wasn’t much good at this lying business, he knew the logic behind it. If they were all in agreement, that lessened the chances of conflicting lies, which lessened the chance of confrontation. Confrontation was certainly not something Ford’s skittish heart needed right now. 

“Simple: you’re an adventurer. Though the lull of running a business was a nice reprieve, the calls of the sea were not so easy to dismiss. You set out in search of wonder and new exhibits for your business, ready to fight any who opposed you.” 

Ford expected Stan’s eyes to light up at the very idea. It played into his dream quite handily, harkening back to days spent weaving tales on the beach. He even pitched his voice dramatically for the effect. Instead, Ford was met with a stormy expression, Stan’s lips pressed into a thin line. Ford didn’t understand. 

“An adventure without you sounds like a pretty dumb adventure,” Stan grumbled, picking at the edge of his menu. He refused to meet Ford’s eyes. “Are people really gonna buy that?”

Of course. Sailing away hadn’t just been Stan’s dream, it had been Ford’s once as well. Wherever we go, we go together. He swallowed uncomfortably. 

“Well, of course they will.” Ford reasoned, wracking his brain for a believable lie. “One of us needed to stay back and keep running the Mystery Shack. No good business can just close down, you know.” 

Stan’s scowl deepened, unconvinced and stubborn as ever. Ford found himself sighing in response. “It’s just a lie, Stanley. It doesn’t need to be realistic.”

“If anyone can make something unbelievable believable, it’s you Grunkle Stan.” Mabel pointed out, smiling. “And this time, it’s for a good cause!” 

Stan’s expression wavered at that. “I guess so. And it’s not like it’s gonna last forever…” He nodded to himself, tension easing. “It can’t be any harder than that time I convinced Mr. Carter that I ate roasted seagull for lunch every day. The look on his face was priceless!” 

The air at the table lightened some as Stan began to re-tell tales from their youth. Another forgotten aspect of his brother’s personality came to surface as he watched him, gesturing and speaking with the flair of a showman. Truly, Stan had a knack for public speaking. Ford wondered what else he had forcibly repressed about his brother. 

He might have been able to make something of himself if he wasn’t so insistent on suffocating me. A dark voice murmured in his mind. Ford dismissed it, forcing himself to focus on the present. There would be time to stew in bitter thoughts later. 

Though the children were listening with rapt attention, they were not content to play captive audiences for long. As their food arrived and the group dug in, they repaid Stan with stories of their own from their summer in Gravity Falls. It didn’t escape Ford that plenty of their tales centred around anomalies that he had recorded in his journal, nor did he miss the side glances Dipper cast his way anytime one was brought up. 

He thought back to the first time he had opened his third journal upon his return, flipping through the carefully scrawled blue words. The twins - Dipper mostly, judging on the writing - had certainly been busy this summer. The solutions they posited seemed so obvious when spelled out, how hadn’t he thought of it? 

Stan had been firm in keeping Ford away from the children for their own safety. At first, he could see the logic behind that assertion. While Gravity Falls was a wonderfully weird place, it was also dangerous to those who were unprepared. Yet the more Ford read the journal, the more capable the children became in his eyes. Hearing the stories firsthand merely solidified the notion in his mind. Stan was just being overprotective. 

If they were going to turn Stan back to his proper age, then he was going to need to work with the children, deal be damned. If he happened to get closer to and bond with them along the way, then that was just a logical and inescapable outcome. Stan couldn’t fault him for that, not when it was for his own good. 

Besides, these children were his family too. Stan had no right to hold them hostage from him. 

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

The past few hours had been such a whirlwind, Stanley was having trouble processing. To start the day on the beach and finish it in a small town smack dab in the middle of a forest? It didn’t feel real. More than once, Stan would dig his fingernails into his arm when he felt like no one was paying attention, just to see if he was dreaming after all. No luck. 

Don’t get him wrong, he was interested in this new life he seemed to have made for himself! His great-niece and nephew seemed really nice (even if it was weird to think that kids around his age were actually younger than him?), and the fact he was a businessman now was an unexpected delight. But it just wasn’t the same without Ford here by his side to experience it with him. 

Ford may be around, but he wasn’t really around. He was older and wiser and sure, he was still the same old Pointdexter, but it just wasn’t the same. Experiencing this sudden environment shift on his own, after doing everything with his twin before, was a change Stan wasn’t ready to face. Beneath the bravado and excitement, Stan couldn’t stop himself from feeling terribly anxious. 

Riding in the backseat of an admittedly neat looking car (“It’s your car, Grunkle Stan!”), wedged between unfamiliar family, Stan could feel those anxieties creeping back up to the forefront once more. He had been to the woods before on a school trip, but never at night. The trees looming through the windows looked dark and foreboding without the sun, like they could swallow you up and no one would hear from you again. He had to resist the urge to shrink back into Dipper’s side. 

Ugh, what kind of wimp was he? Pa would likely scold him if he knew. ‘Belt up, boy. A Pines man doesn’t hide from danger.’ Of course, that thought just made him homesick. What he wouldn’t give to tuck himself into Ma’s arms right about now. 

But Pa was right. He was a Pines man, and a Pines man didn’t hide. He pointedly squashed down his fears and, instead, asked about the pig Mabel had called Waddles. The girl lit up with a dazzling smile and spoke at length about how wonderful he was, showing him picture after picture that she had saved in the pockets of her sweater. Dipper assured him this was only a fraction of the pictures she had, the rest having found a home in her scrapbook. Stan believed him.

Maybe Stan didn’t have Ford here to face this unknown situation with, but Dipper and Mabel made good company. Though he wouldn’t trade Ford for the world, it was nice to have other people to call friends for once. He closed his eyes as he listened to the two talk, allowing himself to be soothed by their voices. 

If they and Ford weren’t afraid right now, then he had no reason to be either.

He hadn’t realized he had dozed off until he heard the sounds of car doors opening. He opened his eyes, blinking blearily and scrambling to get out of the car. Looks like they were back at the Mystery Shack (his business, wasn’t that so neat?). Man, how long had he been out? Hopefully, the others hadn’t noticed.

As they made their way into the house - coming in through a different door this time, though Stan guessed that wasn’t really important - Ford clapped his hands together. “Alright then, Stanley. Let’s get you situated and off to bed.”

Darn. He must have noticed.

“What? But it’s only -” Stan paused, looking over at the clock on the wall “- 8! It’s not even close to bedtime, and I’m not even tired!”

Ford shot him a stern look, looking much more like Pa than Ford. Stan felt himself instinctually straighten. “Let’s say, for the sake of argument, I believe that you aren’t tired. That doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been through quite an ordeal, mentally and physically. Your body and mind need time to recharge. You don’t want to get sick, do you?”

As usual, Ford was making a good point. That didn’t stop Stan from crossing his arms and scuffing the floor with his shoe, most assuredly not pouting. Stan didn’t pout. Pouting was for babies. 

Apparently satisfied with Stan’s silence, Ford turned his attention to the other two. “While I’m attending to that, do you two mind fetching me my remaining two journals? They should be down in the lab.” 

Dipper’s eyes widened at Ford’s request, looking like a kid on Christmas. Were Ford’s nerd scribbles really that interesting? “O-Okay!” He stammered out before turning on his heel, racing out of the room. Mabel was hot on his heels, calling after him to slow down and wait for her. 

Stan watched the two until they disappeared down the hall. “Journals, huh? Isn’t that kinda like a diary?” He asked, turning to where Ford was standing. Keyword: was. Turns out, his brother was already halfway up the stairs. Looks like he had decided to take a leaf out of Dipper’s book. Stan frowned at that and hastened to follow.

Ford stayed quiet as they journeyed through the house, scarcely seeming to notice that Stan was following at all. He looked lost in thought, which Stan supposed wasn’t all that out of place. Ford was usually thinking about something, and sometimes he’d get so lost in that big brain of his that he stopped noticing his surroundings. Usually, that only happened when he was faced with a really hard problem. 

Maybe Stan’s situation was hard too? It seemed hard to Stan, but Stan was never all that bright to begin with. For Ford’s sake, he stayed quiet too.

Eventually, the pair stopped outside a door. Luckily, Ford seemed to snap out of whatever daze he had been in. “Ah, yes, here we are,” He said, opening the door and gesturing inside. “This is your room. You can sleep here while I work on getting you back to normal.”

The first thing that Stan noticed was that it was dark. Maybe it was just because the lights were off, but the dark felt different somehow; suffocating, almost. The curtains on the window were drawn tight, preventing any moonlight from brightening the room. The light that did spill in from the hallway illuminated the dusty air and the general state of disarray the room was in. 

If Stan had to describe it, it seemed sad. Was this really the room he slept in as an adult?

Ford continued talking, sounding way too casual after revealing such a dim place. “Now I doubt you have any children clothes here, but I don’t anticipate Dipper having an issue with you borrowing some of his. If everything goes well, I should have you back to normal in a few days, so it won’t be an issue for long. The children sleep in the attic and I’ll be sleeping in the room down the hall, so we won’t be far if you need anyth--”

“Wait.” Stan cut in, realization dawning. No wonder there’s only one bed. “You’re not sleeping with me?”  

He turned to look straight up at Ford, watching as his brother’s eyes immediately looked off to the side. He had that sad look on his face again, a look that Stan was starting to realize showed up quite frequently now. It made him wonder if he was the one causing that look. 

“No, Stanley.” He eventually said, reaching up to push his glasses further up his face. It was a nervous habit, one Stan could easily recognize. “We haven’t slept in the same room for a very long time. Adults need their own space.” 

Stan wanted to argue that. Ma and Pa shared a room - heck, they shared a bed! - why couldn’t he and Ford? Yet taking another look at his brother, Stan once again remembered that this Ford wasn’t really his. This Ford was basically a stranger to him, and Stan hated it. Sharing a room would probably just make the strangeness even more apparent.

It was Stan’s turn to avoid eye contact, staring into the room instead. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ford’s features softening a little. Soon enough, the familiar six-fingered weight was settling on Stan’s shoulder. The fingers were bigger and rougher now, but the gesture was still the same. It felt like Ford was drawing out the tension through touch alone. 

“I know it’s new and frightening, but I promise you’ll get used to it.” He said, stooping down so he was level with Stan. His lips twitched up into a slight smile. “As I said, I’m not far away, okay? If something happens, you can still come to me. Just because we don’t share a room anymore doesn’t mean I won’t be there for you.” 

Of course, what was he thinking? Ford might be old and strange right now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still his brother. He really shouldn’t be expecting so little of him. Just because he was sleeping here alone didn’t mean Ford didn’t have his back. 

It’s just temporary. The room is weird but you can do this. You’ve taken on worse. 

Stan took a breath and let the weight on his shoulder strengthen him. It was hard to feel afraid when he had someone at his side and a slow, shy smile spread across his face. He turned to face his twin, holding up his hand in mutual solidarity. No matter how many years separated them now, surely this was universal. This couldn’t be tainted by the strangeness. 

“High-six?” 

Instead of immediately raising his hand and completing the gesture, Ford just stared blankly at it. One moment passed, then another, and Stan’s smile began to flicker. Ford had that look in his eye again, that sad, far-away look. Stan decided he hated it more than he hated the room. 

Subconscious now, Stan lowered his hand. Maybe he had been wrong after all. Stan couldn’t imagine it; in what reality could he achieve his dream while everything he shared with his brother was suddenly different? Was it just inevitable? 

“I-I’m sorry, Stanley.” Ford finally stammered, removing his hand from his shoulder to card anxiously through his hair. “It’s been… A trying day for me, too. I hope you can understand.”

Stanley didn’t, not entirely. 

Maybe… Things were just different because Ford had lost someone, too. Maybe he felt this same strangeness in reverse, looking for the adult version of his missing half. Stan didn’t really know how he’d feel in Ford’s shoes, so it seemed probable to him.

Either way, he put on a smile and reached over to put a hand on Ford’s shoulder too. His hand was much smaller and probably lacked the same satisfying, grounding weight to it, but he hoped it helped anyways. “Course I do, Pointdexter,” He lied. “But it’s okay. We can be here for each other, just like always.” 

Ford inhaled softly at the touch, but didn’t immediately move away. Stan took that as a good sign and remained there, allowing the silence to stretch for as long as Ford needed it. 

The moment passed soon after and Ford straightened once more, letting Stan’s hand fall away. Stan understood; Pines men didn’t just sit there and whimper. If you had time to cry, you had time to fight. That was what Pa had always said. 

Feeling lighter, Stan dutifully crawled into the too-big bed without any further complaint. For the time being, he didn’t even notice the heaviness. Now that he was really laying down, the exhaustion that he had been fighting since the diner was returning with a vengeance. He had just enough energy to turn onto his side, looking at where Ford stood in the doorway. 

“G’night, Ford.” He murmured, eyes already closing. 

Whatever Ford’s response was, if there was any at all, fell on deaf ears. Stan was fast asleep before he knew what hit him. 

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

Far away from the odd little family, in a dimension nothing like theirs, a being contemplates the scene he has just witnessed. The little display was disgustingly saccharine, almost making him sick to his proverbial stomach.

Still, the advantage that had just been handed to him was well worth enduring that little sob fest. He leans away from his handy eavesdropping orb, hands clasped at his back. 

“And here I thought my conquest was going to be difficult.” He thought aloud, unable to stop himself from cackling. After enduring those embarrassing defeats at the hands of those meddlesome twins, this break was exactly what he was looking for. 

It was time to exploit that six-fingered freak’s kryptonite: Stanley Pines. 

[enkelimagnus]

Field Gear

Bucky Barnes Gen, 1501 words, rated T for Hydra shit

Jewish Bucky Barnes, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: Episode 2 The Star-Spangled Man

In the plane ride back from Germany, Bucky has some thoughts, and him and Sam have a conversation.

The answer to the huge question "where did Bucky get that new superhero costume" is finally answered.

TW: torture as punishment (including mention of waterboarding)

Read on AO3

Part 17 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

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

The flight to Munich was quiet and heavy with what Bucky had let fester while he hid his head in the Brooklyn sand, with his anger and frustration at Sam’s decision and what it had led to, with Sam’s answered emotions at the way Bucky had expressed those things.

Bucky had taken a small amount of satisfaction at the look on Sam’s face, closed off and upset. Finally thinking about what he’d done.

The flight back to the states is a thousand times worse.

Bucky’s head is so filled with thoughts and feelings that it feels empty. He can’t vocalize any of them. They’re just there, taking space and he just stares into the void, still dressed in the field gear Sam unexpectedly pulled out of his bag a few hours into the first flight.

Sam’s taking off his own gear now. Bucky’s eyes find themselves on his back as he pulls his civilian pants on.

“Why did you have stuff for me?” Bucky blurts out then.

Sam turns around, sending him a tired and Really, that's what you want to talk about? look. Bucky doesn’t say anything, doesn’t shrug, just waits for an answer. He’s tired too, actually. Really tired. He hasn’t had a full-on fight since the Battle. Let alone a fight against people of similar strength than him.

Sam sighs heavily, pulls his grey shirt over his head, shoves his feet in his boots and walks over to the other side of the plane, on the red benches across from the ones Bucky is sitting at. Bucky’s eyes follow him. He sits down heavily.

They stay in that silence for a moment, until Sam realizes that Bucky’s actually waiting for an answer. A look of long suffering frustration passes over his face for a short moment. Bucky catches it, because he’s used to watching people. Sam’s not the type of guy Bucky would worry about pissing off, but he can’t turn off the part of his brain that watches.

“Been holding onto it since your trial,” Sam starts after a moment. Bucky keeps staring at him. He would raise an eyebrow if he wasn’t too tired to put effort into facial motions. “While you were at the Raft, Pepper outfitted the ones of us that still wanted a part in the fight with new gear. I got a new set of wings. And they made you new field gear. The jacket’s leather, but specially treated, and there’s a bulletproof microlayer in the lining. She gave it to me because no one else really knew who the fuck you were. And then you ignored my texts for three months.”

Bucky runs his flesh hand on the blue leather for a second and nods. “Thank her for me, I guess.” He stands up and walks over to where he stashed his civvies. “Imma let you keep it, then, since you’ve been doing such a good job. Unless you’re gonna give it to the Smithsonian. Don’t want some random white dude from Alabama to start calling himself the new Winter Soldier.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, man.”

They fall silent again while Bucky takes his gear off. He has to admit it’s very nice stuff. The jacket itself is pretty, nicely cut, and the sleeve was easy enough to rip off. He takes a second to look at the shoulder, where he’s sure to see ripped fabric, but there’s little to nothing. It was supposed to come off, if he pulled hard enough on it. He’s pretty sure someone might be able to sew it back on easily. Smart.

The suspenders are a little much, but he enjoyed the pants not falling down as he fought. The boots are fucking amazing. He’s missed the luxury of custom field footwear.

After a moment, once he’s back in his jeans and henley, he sits back down in the silence. Sam is purposefully looking away from him. Fine. Whatever. Plenty of time for Bucky’s thoughts to circle back to the disastrous fucking day.

There’s eight new supersoldiers.

The type of strength they displayed is unmistakably the one born from the serum, the one Bucky is intimately familiar with.

Eight supersoldiers is more than there has ever been alive at the same time, as far as Bucky knows. Even when Hydra was developing the Program, only 5 candidates made it through the process. Eight supersoldiers, working for a pseudo-anarchist movement, or whatever the FlagSmashers are, with some sort of combat training. It’s all kinds of bad.

Even worse: they’re kids. All of them are in their twenties or less. They’re the kind of idealistic teenagers who would let themselves be experimented on if it meant being able to fight harder for the cause. Like Steve, or Wanda Maximoff.

Bucky knew they would lose the fight against them, even with Walker intervening. He was pulling his punches. They’re kids. He let them grab him, he let them hold him and punch him. He let them win the fight because they’re kids. He doesn’t make the habit of fighting with his full strength against kids.

Even if they’re super soldiers.

It was the first time he fought a super soldier of his own volition.

It was the first time he had enough control over his actions to pull his punches. Before that, it was all orders. Kill, maim, destroy. Assasination targets, enemy combatants crossing his path of doom, those he was made to train in Siberia.

Those eight were obviously not puppeted by anyone. They weren’t the new Winter Soldiers, made by the remnants of Hydra, no. They were independent agents with wills. The smile on the girl’s face when he thought she was a hostage made it incredibly clear.

They’re more Steve than they’re Bucky.

And that’s terrifying.

“They were kids,” Bucky says quietly. For a second, he thinks Sam might not have heard him, with the noise of the engine and the rattling of the cargo plane.

“Yeah,” Sam replies. “They were kids. And supersoldiers.”

“No master,” Bucky mutters. Sam winces at the terminology but doesn’t correct him. There’s no one holding these attack dogs’ leashes, and he knows that too. “We need to know where it comes from. We need to get there before Walker.”

He has absolutely no trust that the new serum, if it exists in quantities large enough, won’t be used by the US military if they get their hands on it. It wouldn’t be the first time they tried to get the same shiny toy as their adversaries in the shape of a super soldier.

Bucky remembers Isaiah Bradley well, now that he has access to these memories. He remembers the bar in Goyang, the face of a young black soldier, the sudden jolt of fear and surprise that had run through him as he realized the soldier was strong enough to hold his own against him. He remembers the tables and chairs destroyed and the large missing piece on his arm, titanium plates torn off, blood seeping in between the circuits and cables.

He remembers the punishment for his first failure, and the punishment for damaging the arm Hydra had gifted him. Electric current running through him, knives slashing and digging into his body, the wet cloth on his face and the water they poured on it, the hands on him, carrying him from one torture implement to the other once he stopped being able to stand or walk properly.

The kind of pain that could never be forgotten, no matter how many times they wiped him in the decades to come. That first big punishment stayed with him. It still is with him. He still dreams of it on particularly terrible nights.

“Walker’s just gonna track us and wait for us once we’re done,” Sam mutters.

“He’s government. Of course he’s gonna do that. But at least there’s no Redwing for them to track anymore.” He adds, and there’s a hint of something softer in this voice.

“Shut up, Buck.” Sam’s got a hint of that too. They’re too tired to be aggressively pissed at each other anymore.

Bucky still can’t believe he heard those two idiots singing the praises of the GRC. Captain America and Battlestar, government agents, tasked with keeping resistance networks from forming. Fucking hell. It all feels like a bad parody. No matter what Bucky believes about the FlagSmashers - there isn’t much there -, Captain America isn’t… anti resistance.

It’s not exactly hacking. It’s government property. We’re kinda the government.

Bucky feels like he’s in a chokehold as he sits on the strapped-down supplies in the middle of the cargo hold.

He should have told Steve to stay. Walker would still be a random decorated asshole they’d have to make small talk to at big army functions both of them would hate. He would probably still be a groupie for the shield, but it would be better. So much better than this.

At least Walker didn’t have the serum coursing through him. Small mercies.

[sanaseva-archive]

okay, hi. it’s me—the annoyance in this fandom. and i’d like to talk about something, so bear with me.

 there’s a problem in this fandom that doesn’t need to be discussed. why not? it’s not up for discussion, basically. it’s up to you all to sit back and learn that this shit you all are pulling needs to be stopped. period.

 i’m breaking it up to a couple of core parts so you all know what i’m talking about.

 first of all, let’s talk about the islamophobia and racism in this fandom.

 here’s the deal: shut up and listen. is that too hard? then just shut up and close your browser. delete your blog. take a walk. go on with your shitty life.

 i don’t know why this needs to be explained—seriously. i don’t understand it. it’s not physics or the study of runes. it’s the basic thing called logic thinking and common decency at the least.

 you’re all doing something incredibly harmful and it’s not okay. when you started calling a brown character a rat i—i thought it was a joke. and when it was pointed out it’s racist, by people of colour in this fandom, you kept doing it. why? do you take enjoyment in calling brown people rats? do you think you can get away with it? guess you can, but you can stop doing it to people of colour. it’s disgusting.

 next. the idea of this season is: please don’t let me be misunderstood. the reverse of this? please don’t let me be understood. just so we’re clear. there’s no reverse. the song was in reverse, the message was clear. so you can shut up about that.

 so when the fight broke up, and sana was hiding in the bathroom stall, what did we hear? the two white random, irrelevant white girls talking about how they thought (assumed, didn’t know but talked anyway) it was about homosexuality, and how muslims are homophobic. was it there for the lols? no. it was there for us. to know. that it wasn’t about that.

 my point: shut the fuck up about it. it’s tiresome, getting old, it’s toxic. if you keep talking about this, you’re spreading harmful messages to others. what messages? that muslims are homophobic. which they can be, i’m not saying some aren’t. i’m saying that that’s not the point of this season and that non-muslims are equally likely to be homophobic. don’t believe me? wow, i guess it’s something that has been fed to you by media representation and… dare i say it? people talking shit of shit they don’t know on social platforms. precisely what you’re doing right now.

 second thing we need to talk about: the series. yes! let’s talk about what content we have right now and why us people of colour and why muslims are upset, shall we? (note: we have all the right to be upset.)

 let’s first get this out of the way: we know it’s written this way to prove some point later on in the season. probably something along the lines of muslim and brown boys not all being homophobic and shit. you know. that thing you keep shutting your eyes from. we understand that, we know that.

 we’re just. not. happy. about how it’s written. it’s kind of doing a lot of damage right now. look at some of the messages some people (people of colour, muslims, muslim people of colour) receive. and what we should be getting is much more healthy scenes between muslims, muslims and people of non-faith, people of colour and white people, to weigh up to the damage its doing. we don’t get that much of that. and it’s frustrating, because we understand why (sana’s lonely) but there are so many ways to portray loneliness than completely erase healthy interactions between people on the fucking screen.

 don’t bring up the hei briskeby videos, because they don’t count. i’m talking about the real episodes here. the real clips. the clips that the casual viewer will watch.

 so yes. the series itself is… partially at fault here. the writing, i would say. especially filming only the people of colour in a fight and—wow. that chokehold they had on the only black guy? yikes.

 what’s worse is that they surely know—or at least have a slight idea—of what outbreak their clips will give. and they keep doing it. keep feeding this shit to us, and leave us to either deal with it, or completely shut down our inboxes. which results into people thinking we’re selfish, because we don’t answer their wish to learn more about culture and islam and the experiences people of colour have.

 third thing we need to talk about: vilde and noora. yup. i’m putting them on the agenda.

 i, as a lesbian of colour, wholeheartedly believe that vilde’s character is poorly written this season. she’s obviously not too different from earlier seasons, but she’s definitely had more emphasis on her ignorance, and how that ignorance is dealt with is—less acceptable. i do believe, on top of that, that she will be “redeemed” (i’m just not sure i’ll buy into it) and that she will learn, apologise and maybe grow the last episode or something, since we won’t be getting any more.

 but what bugs me the most about the way they’re writing her this season is that, she’s coded as possibly lesbian (or bi, if you prefer, but i’m gonna talk about her being lesbian, and you can make your own post about her being bisexual). and she’s literally the only character fully coded this way. if you’re interested in why, just… google it. believe it or not, we aren’t google. but the key point is that she is doing a lot of what us lesbians perceive as compulsory heterosexuality. and they completely villainised a potential lesbian this season which is just falling into the same shit people have done over and over again. lesbians are bad, lesbians are racist, lesbians are this and fucking that and that pisses me off. if, by the off chance, she eventually is canonically declared as lesbian, i’m not sure i will rejoice or throw my phone through my computer screen. they ruined her character to me, they ruined a (coded) lesbian to me, a lesbian, simply because they wanted to put her to be the ignorant girl who keeps shitting all over sana.

 and noora. man. i’m not too mad about noora as a character herself. she’s flawed, she has her good moments and shit. but she takes up so much of her own storyline from sana’s. it’s a mess. she’s talking about herself, her problems with dickhelm, and sure, that’s what friends do—talk about what bothers you. but we’re so frustrated that she’s once again on the screen, talking about the same old thing, and rip the minutes that could’ve been spent on sana from our hands.

 don’t get me wrong. we all know that sana is a listener. but there’s a line. and they jump over it, time and time again.

 and then there’s the misogyny in this fandom that needs to be addressed. and this is a harder one, because it’s hard to spot.

 during the course of season three—up to this day, i see this shit—people keep shitting on sonja and emma for no other reason than them being girls who got hurt in the process. sonja? remember her? she got cheated on. and while even kept saying he felt controlled by her you somehow got the idea that she’s toxic. she isn’t. a toxic relationship would not end with isak thanking sonja for the help she’s given. she knows even and—well, at the most, she might have been a bit controlling because she doesn’t understand that even is his own person with or without his bipolar disorder.

 and emma? she outed isak, which is fucked up and there’s no excuse. but stop thinking she’s the absolute villain to isak’s life because she’s a girl, who got hurt, in the process. accept that, move on, because isak sure did.

 you thought i’d end there? really? nope. ain’t gonna happen. i’m gonna bring up vilde specifically again.

 you think she’s just a dumb ignorant islamophobe? partially true. she’s islamophobic and is not a good friend to sana. she’s ignorant, yes. but you’re reducing her character to something she isn’t. you’re reducing her to the blonde dumb girl, which is just as shitty as people defending her islamophobic behaviour. her islamophobia does not correlate to her dealing with whatever she’s dealing with (compulsory heterosexuality, if you will), but if you reduce her to a two-dimensional character it’s quite misogynistic itself. if you’re woman and doing that—check yourself in the mirror.

 same goes for noora, basically, but i don’t think anyone is genuinely despising her for anything else than the shitty line here and there and the serious screentime she’s clocking.

 we also had a run in with the lovely subjects of biphobia and ableism too. you all can’t stop anywhere, can you?

 since we aren’t discussing, let me just point out these things:

 bisexuality does not equate to cheater. a cheater can be of any sexuality. the stereotype is that bisexual people are cheaters is harmful and it ends here. whether a bisexual person/character has cheated can be discussed without bringing in their bisexuality to the conversation.

 and mental illness… it seems it’s harder for you to grasp this part. so let me put it this way: think of the most embarrassing shit you’ve done. called your teacher mum and everyone laughed? peed yourself in public? pretended to talk on the phone and your phone ended up ringing? whatever. the most embarrassing shit you’ve done. think of that. feel what you felt at that point. oh my god, what did people think of you?

 do you want your crush or your partner of a few months know… that? say it involved a second person. say you… shat yourself on your best friend’s expensive, newly bought couch, felt so embarrassed you left the house and deleted all your social media and never answered their calls.

 say your partner brings them up.

 would you… tell them that?

 i don’t mean to trivialise mental illness here (i’m struggling with my own). it’s much more complex (guilt, self-blaming, embarrassment, sadness) than what i’m saying here. i’m just breaking it down to a point where hopefully even the most abled person can understand.

 you’re expecting someone who deals with this every day to just tell their partner. it’s not that easy. it’s a lot of compartmentalising that needs to be done, so you can tell that story without breaking down completely. what happened to even broke him enough to switch to a new school. that’s not something you just tell someone, regardless if you’re together with them, without having thought it through for weeks—even months—and analysed each possible turnout and reaction. that’s not something you tell someone unless you really, really, really need to.

 that’s not to say that it’s… bad. that even and sana weren’t honest with isak from the start. but it’s what it is. even isn’t perfect. sana isn’t perfect. isak isn’t perfect. none of these characters are completely perfect. why not? because they’re supposed to be realistic, human and resound to us. we’re supposed to be able to relate to them, in a way.

 lastly, but most importantly: stop thinking you’re so bloody entitled to send shitty asks to people, especially the muslims, people of colour and disabled people of this fandom.

 now that i’ve said my piece, kindly don’t find your way into my inbox and think it’s time to discuss. as i said, it’s not up for discussion.

 don’t understand what i’m talking about? congratulations, you just won the prize: read this post again until you get it.

 peace the fuck out.