#i love how when the news was made public so many people defended & justified it

[leqclerc]

[luna-rainbow]

I was looking at some information on Captain America 4 because it sounds like they are doing an entire reshoot. I saw a preview for Sam's new suit for the movie. What are your thoughts on this? Because it feels like he barely wore the one that he got to wear in TFATWS. And that one was given to him by Wakanda and made from Vibranium. How can this new suit be preferable to that one? And I guess its now not a big deal that he got a suit from Wakanda?

Thanks for the ask!

The change of suit happened with Wanda as well when she went from TV to movie so I guess it happens with major budget upgrades. It does suck that vital character development points get undermined but, hey, this is the MCU we’re talking about.

As far as the new suit goes, I quite like it! I like that navy shade, the lines look more dynamic and I think overall the design is much more complimentary to Mackie’s body shape. Maybe they can say vibranium can change the suit’s paint job — after all, didn’t T’Challa’s suit hide in his beads? Surely changing the colours isn’t a big deal in a world like that 😂

I think the issues with the show were pretty evident as soon as it ended. The criticism about the “do better” speech was always there. There is a group of very vocal people who have a vested (ship war) interest in defending that show. From what I’ve seen, a good number of them are well aware of the flaws of the show (and have many of the exact same talking points) but if you are not one of them, you’re not allowed to talk about it. I don’t think these people have changed their stance on CA4 — in the sense that they were always concerned about Spellman bungling it, and they always disliked how little care was put into promoting Sam’s story, but god forbid if you’re not in their ship and talked about it. So in a way, I don't think the show isn't "ageing well"...because I think most people really haven't changed their original opinions. I'm sure there are some people out there who previously loved the show and now changed their mind because of Sabra, but I haven't seen a lot of comment from that corner on Tumblr at least...

I do think it’s ironic that CA4 is now being accused of Zionist agenda when the first criticism that came out was its anti-Semitic working title (New World Order). I have no idea what politics it will push — if any, because let’s face it, the main problem with TFATWS isn’t its centrism, it’s the lack of commitment to any ideology and its protagonist-centric morality — but what this whole saga tells me is that the publicity team for CA4 is either incompetent or woefully understaffed. I don’t think I’ve heard anyone come out to try and salvage the publicity debacles. The optics of Sabra is going to be very tricky given the current climate, and I don’t see Spellman being a writer who can handle the subtlety (or bravery?) to make her work.

I remember Simu Liu allegedly said to Marvel execs that "we (POC) are not an experiment" -- but honestly, this is what CA4 is feeling like. Sam the Black Cap is experimental and they're cutting corners on many parts of this production. They don't care that he fails - so they are setting him up to fail, which would then justify them pulling the plug early so they can go back to investing in safe favourites.

[autumn-sweet-fae]

More memes!

Who would win? Arceus, creator of all reality OR one (1) justified Karen mom?

Blaze is a dog person

Scald is a bastard (has a submeme of people taking pictures of the TM for the move Scald with the caption 'BASTARD'.)

Choose your starter villainous team (the three teams are associated with the three starter types. This does not go unnoticed.)

The Battle Frontier (thanks to Unova Elite Four member Caitlin's connections to and history with the Sinnoh Battle Frontier, I can imagine that there would definitely be some sort of drama there.)

I'm in trouble, aren't I? (Posted when the truth was revealed (specifically that Akari is Dawn) by one of the Sinnoh Gym Leaders/Elite Four members who had staunchly supported the lab.)

Omfg these’s are fantastic!!

🤣 The Karen rant against God. What is god but the most important manager for a Karen to scream at? 

Yes! Blaze and his love of dog pokemon will deff be an actual in universe meme among the group chat later in the au. Every time Mint sees a doggo they take a pic and send it to the chat with a joke of some kind. Blaze does not mind this at all because he gets to see more dog pictures.

Omfg Scald becoming known to the internet. He was someone who purposely kept his face out of media largely so he won’t be recognized on jobs. But then when news hits that the egg basket was dropped by a Flora hired security and its leaked that he’s the one to have done in, everyone piles on and hates him.

At first there are those who are trying to defend him, because this might just be some security guard who made a honest mistake and is now being torn to shreds by the public. But then the internet keeps trying to dig up more on this guy, especially after an egg is confirmed to have been compromised. And holy fuck, they dig up some legit evidence on this dude that could connect him to Allot of shady shit.

Suddenly the big question is why is This Guy working for the Flora Labs??? And the memeing intensifies.

The public seen villians are the three starter types!! Didn’t even realize that 😆

Blaze/fire, Belladonna/grass, Scald/water, and then behind the scenes there’s Sarin who specializes in poison type.

Omfg Caitlin… so she’s the most obvious connection between the two games but she also clearly aged between them which will need to be ignored for this story 😅

Because with how I have the timeline planned, the events of BW and BW2 happen before Dawns pokemon journey. So Caitlin would be official an Unovan elite Four member but still come out to Sinnoh to work at the Battle Frontier. (This could be why she’s always sleeping, she’s so jetlagged from her travels 😆)

Caitlin and Cynthia would still be besties and they are both friends with Elesa which will come up in the fic at some point for sure.

And yes!! The sudden heel turn of everyone who had been deceived by the lab and refused to budge when the evidence started building. Many are forgiven because they genuinely only wanted to help the pokemon who were said to be in danger. Most are now working to help the pokemon who were harmed by the labs which definitely helps their image.

[scu-broncos-in-newzealand]

Where Do I Stand?

Written by Jonathan Terryn, Winter Quarter 2023

I grew up in Switzerland, but my cultural background is all over the place. My mother is American, and my father is Belgian. At home, we would always speak English. Although most of the culture I consumed as a child was American, I could not escape the mark of an upbringing in Switzerland. I learned German and French alongside English at school and developed a love for skiing and punctual public transportation. I wouldn't trade growing up in Switzerland for the world. The only issue with having such a contrasting background is that I always need to decide which side to pick. Am I Swiss, American or Belgian? I never knew how to answer that question. For the longest time, if people asked, I could explain away their confusion. In study abroad, however, people were not as easily satisfied. 

Dissatisfaction has always been a part of my life. I chalk it up to the notion that I always feel dislocated in the places I've lived. In Switzerland, I struggled with the idea that my “Americanization” meant that I could never fully be Swiss. While in the U.S., I've learned that even though my upbringing was in some ways very American, I am unquestionably Swiss. Hence, when I had the opportunity to study abroad, I jumped at the chance. I settled on New Zealand as my study abroad destination because I wanted to get away from what felt too familiar. As much as I love and miss spending time in Europe, I wanted to travel to a region I had never visited. I also hoped that New Zealand would be a welcome respite from my cultural disorientation. I saw it as a place also at odds with its cultural identity and where I could go to be understood. My fantasies, however, were quickly dashed upon arrival in New Zealand. 

New Zealand is indeed a country culturally at odds with itself. On the one hand, it takes pride in its ties to the Commonwealth. Culturally it is very similar to the U.K. People drive on the left side of the road, New Zealand’s official food is very British, many New Zealanders tie their ancestry back to the U.K., and the government echoes the British parliament. At the same time, New Zealand has a distinct cultural identity. Māori culture has a significant influence on New Zealand’s identity. Te Reo (the Māori) language is incorporated into signs, announcements, and greetings. For example, the standard greeting in New Zealand is “kia ora”, literally meaning “be healthy”. Furthermore, Auckland (New Zealand’s biggest city) is a mishmash of different cultures. While in New Zealand, I was grateful to meet so many people of diverse backgrounds, but that didn’t mean everyone I met was as culturally enlightened. 

Many people in New Zealand harbor prejudices against Americans. Anti-American exceptionalism was nothing new to me because of where I grew up. However, when I started studying abroad, animosity towards Americans was at a fever pitch because of the controversial Roe v. Wade ruling. It became hard for me not to lean into "smack-talking" the U.S. because I could always downplay my American heritage. However, while doing so was the easy option, it always felt wrong to disavow the U.S. because I couldn’t ignore my American heritage. 

If I couldn’t ignore my American heritage, I would have to learn to embrace my identity. It was an incredibly draining process. For example, in group introductions, I was often introduced as being "not really Swiss", “a fake American”, or simply American. Each time I opened my mouth I had to defend myself because people would label me American because of my accent. I'd give the same response that went down well enough in the U.S., but people refused to buy my explanations in New Zealand. Having to justify my identity all the time wore me down and made me paranoid whenever I opened my mouth. 

After one night out in Auckland, I remember reaching a tipping point. I remember venting to my friend Rachel as we walked back from the bus stop. She had gone through something similar growing up as a BIPOC in New Zealand. She never knew whether to identify as a Korean or a New Zealander. She let me vent for a couple of minutes, but once she noticed I was running out of steam, she interjected with, “so?” She told me that she had to learn to stop caring about what other people thought about her identity. The only person that she needed to convince was herself. I remember standing there dumbfounded. Could it be so simple? In truth, it isn’t. Or at least it hasn’t been for me. I still bristle every time someone suggests, “you’re not really Swiss”, but over time it's become easier to let it slide. I don’t have enough energy to worry about everyone who doesn’t believe me. I know who I am.

[buckymilf]

When there's a discussion on whether Steve's ending was good or not, there's one thing that actually bothers me, and it's when people say that it was always meant to happen because it was already planned and the entirety of Steve's arc throughout the movies was purposely made to have that ending regardless. Like, that's just not true.

The creators confirmed a few times that the script for Endgame had a lot of changes and that they had different versions for the movie. I'm pretty sure that the Russos said at one point that in one of these versions Steve died during the battle and was decapitated. Steve dying was an option, and probably one that was going to follow through because it would just be easier and it wouldn't leave the public confused after previously stablishing a good and understandable enough explanation for time travel. It would also save Marvel from now having to explain what happened after Steve came back, the comment in FATWS about people believing that he's on the moon, and having to keep everything vague enough for the possibility of Evans agreeing to come back.

But the evidence of this ending definitely not being planned years before it's the movie itself. If Steve was really meant to end up with Peggy, they wouldn't need to bring her up so many times during the movie, it shouldn't be necessary to explain again and again how much she means to him, that's something that the audience should already know. When there's Civil War discourse people argue about who's right, the political perspective of Tony and Steve, whether Steve should've told Tony about his parents, or if he shouldn't have dragged the other avengers to battle, whatever, but I've never seen people question why he's so intent on defending his views and protecting Bucky from the government, because in CAFTA and CATWS the audience got to see and understand that Steve acts based on what he thinks is right and that Bucky is important to him. It's stablished, and so in Civil War people don't need flashbacks of the 40's or constant reminders to understand Steve's actions.

If Steve talked about his friends that were gone with the snap in the group therapy session, if the compass was replaced for a wrinkled photo of him with Sam and Nat or if he paid attention to SHIELD'S basement when he went to get the capsules and saw traces of Zola's work, and even then, ended up going back to the past, many more people than it did when the movie came out would get really upset about his ending. I mean, one of the main reasons why some people didn't believe the spoilers when they were leaked on Reddit was Steve's ending making no sense. Of course they had to try to make it seem like not getting to be with Peggy was Steve's biggest regret, because what the audience knew about them together was that that she was kind of the first woman that paid attention to him, she kissed him once, then told him that he had to live his life because she already had, and then enter his new love interest. If his ending was meant to be like that and was really planned in advance, we wouldn't need constant reminders of her character and their relationship, and in the previous movies it would've been clear that Steve hadn't moved on and that him being in the 21st century was still his biggest problem.

At the end of the day is media, you can like it or not, but there's no need to try to justify the way that a multimillionaire company fucks up characters' storylines and characterisation.

THIS 👆👆👆 FUCKING THIS 👆👆

you know what i think it's the sickest part? if they wanted us to belive that peggy was the most important thing in Steve's life, enough for him to comeback to the fucking segregation era, that they were always "mean to be" why would they made him kiss her niece???

it's clear that marvel just wanted the most heteronormative ending possible for the character, even if that means ruining his entire arch, beliefs, and ignore the best mcu trilogy aka the Capitan America one.

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 9 - FINALE)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 7.2k

warnings: smut (oral f receiving), semi-public sex (in a parked car) angst, arguments, implied smut, sappiness, time skips, some alcohol consumption here and there, lots of talking about issues including bucky's ptsd, I really have no idea how to warn for this but IT’S THE END SO STRAP IN FOLKS

Since that night, it had been like a stand-off in a Western movie, none of you saying anything because you had no idea what to say. Whenever he tried to start the conversation, you brushed him off.

You took a cab home from the event. He slept in his own room for the first time in months.

Finally, suddenly, you were ready to talk about it nearly 30 hours later, knocking on the guest room door and entering to find Bucky on his bed, re-reading Flowers for Algernon. He sat up quickly and shut it, setting it aside. “Hey,” he greeted softly, hesitant like you were a deer in a clearing and he was extending a handful of grain in his palm.

“Hey,” you returned, already fighting back your emotions. “I think I’m ready to talk.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I’m ready to listen.”

“I just… I want to make sure that you understand this is a really big deal.”

He nodded again.

“I had to do a lot of damage control to prevent being banned from all HFPA events— that includes the Golden Globes, you know, I can’t exactly skip those just because my boyfriend went fucking nuts at a party.” And there was the anger again— you had tried to wait until you could be neutral about this but it barely lasted, mainly because you were still embarrassed about the way you’d handled yourself that night. “You’re lucky not many people saw; you’re lucky no reporters were there! Can you imagine if someone had a fucking picture of this? There were cameras everywhere, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking!” he defended. “I saw you with him and he was touching you and I just… I saw red.”

You sighed slowly. “That’s not a good thing. That’s really, really concerning.”

“I know, I agree— you’re right. I need…” he trailed off, taking a breath before starting over. “I need to work on that.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I just… I can’t really be a part of that. You need to work on that on your own.”

He stood up instantly, almost looking… afraid? Terrified, really, and heartbroken. “On my own, like what? What does that mean?”

“It means that I think maybe you should go back to your own apartment for a while. I just… need to be alone for a bit.”

“You need to be alone?” he repeated. “Or you need to be away from me?’

“Both.”

His head fell into his hands instantly. "Please don't tell me I fucked this up," he whimpered. "Please don't tell me I ruined this."

"I— I don't know."

"Please, please, please," he sighed, just louder than a whisper, suddenly stepping forward, grabbing your hand and clutching it to his chest. "Look at me," he begged.

You did, hesitantly, fighting everything in you that wanted to cry (and not doing so good of a job at it).

"Please, I lo—"

"Don't," you grimaced. "Don't say that."

"But it's true."

"It doesn't matter!" you yelped, surprising both of you with your volume.

“Are we going to have a chance to talk about this again? Am I going to get a chance to make it up to you?”

“You don’t make it up to me, you fix it. And that takes time.”

He shook his head, looking shocked and confused and completely blindsided which made you feel sick to your stomach. “How long?”

“I don’t know…” you mumbled.

“Am I not going to see you at all, for however long it takes?” he pressed.

“I… that’s sort of the idea.”

He shivered and pulled you into a hug. “Please don’t hate me forever,” he whispered against the top of your head.

“I don’t hate you,” you promised, doing your best not to hug him back even though all you wanted was to wrap yourself around him and feel safe in his arms again.

“Then don’t make me go,” he pleaded as he pulled back, clutching your face. “Let me stay and we can work through this together.”

“That’s not how this works,” you reminded him

“But I don’t know how to be without you,” he explained shakily.

“That’s not really my problem!” you yelped, and he turned away like he’d been slapped, dropping his hands from your face. A long, heavy silence fell between you as you watched him stand there, contemplating.

“If this is my last chance,” he finally spoke softly, barely breaking the silence, “to say everything I want to say…”

“It’s not,” you assured. “We’re going to talk about this again, but you need to go now.”

He nodded, his adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow of nothing. When he looked at you again, you hated how much bluer his eyes looked when they were bloodshot and filled with tears. “Can I kiss you?”

You shook your head. He bit his lip and turned to walk away; you stared at your feet because you couldn’t watch him go.

You heard him grab his backpack, shoving a few things from the drawers into it; he set his key on the table, walked into the open hall, and as soon as you heard the front door open and shut you were plunged into solitude and silence. With a whimper, you crumpled to the floor and cried, the look of betrayal on his face burned into your mind.

It was obvious, to your horror, that he really hadn’t seen it coming; he hadn’t packed his things, or prepared in any way for the conversation going like that. He had been waiting for an olive branch and got a switch to the face instead. You didn’t know anything about working on relationships, repairing broken things… when something went wrong, all you knew how to do was bail.

You knew how to do a new take and say the line right this time. You knew how to take off your eyeliner and start over. You knew how to kick unsuspecting C-listers out of cars because you already got yours. But you didn’t know how to stay, and work, and frankly you were just too scared to try. Last time you tried to make it work, you got burned. And as much as a logical part of you knew that wasn’t Bucky’s fault or responsibility, your heart just couldn’t survive another relationship where you put everything into putting the pieces back together while the other person stood there and watched you just to pull them apart again.

It had to end at some point, right? It was you, it was him… and that’s just how these things go.

//

He knew it was too good to be true. He knew you were too good for him. Anybody with at least one eyeball and half a brain could see that. But still, he hadn’t been ready to let you go.

Being in his apartment felt like stopping in a ghost town; there might as well have been a tumbleweed rolling through the living room. It was beyond a bachelor pad: it was more like an unfinished work site, considering his ‘couch’ was cinderblocks and a few two-by-fours, and his bed was a mattress on the floor.

One toothbrush. No books. A half-empty shampoo bottle in the shower and some hard water stains he needed to scrub away at some point.

This place didn’t feel like a home, it barely felt like a livable space. It was a three-dimensional homage to how empty his life had been before you, and he realized that was only his own fault.

Then again, this was all his fault.

But still, he had let himself obsess over you, turn you into his whole world and it made him into somebody he didn’t want to be. He had been working so hard to keep you happy, inspired more than anything by his fear to lose you, that he’d forgotten to give you space and now here he was… giving you so much more space than he ever wanted to, or knew how to deal with.

But he wanted to use this, if he could. As much as it was tempting to binge on junk food, drink too much and watch porn for an hour, as much as he wanted to run away from everything he was feeling, he owed it to you and to himself to face it all and learn from it. He wanted to be the man you deserved, if that was even humanly possible; he wanted to be who you used to think he was.

//

The next week went by in a blur: a blur filled with shitty romcoms, Ben & Jerry’s straight from the carton, and phone calls ignored.

It would all be fine with time, you knew that, but god, it fucking hurt now. It made you want to call him and at least apologize for having sex with him when you knew he wouldn’t have wanted to if he knew you were upset. More time and distance from the situation made you appreciate that it was manipulative, even if it by no means justified the way he grabbed you, or shoving anybody in the first place.

Truth was, you were scared of Bucky long before that happened. You were scared of how strong your feelings were for him; and, in turn, you were scared of how strong his feelings were for you. You felt loved by him, and you didn’t know what to do with that. So you self-destructed.

Just in time to tear you out of your spiralling thoughts, the intercom buzzed from the front gate. You furrowed your brow, wondering who it could be, and got up to check the camera feed.

You couldn’t see the face of the driver, just his arm, but you’d recognize that Rolex on his wrist anywhere.

“What do you want?” you asked coldly, holding down the intercom talk button.

"Let me in," Sam instructed.

"And why should I?"

"Cause if you don't, I'll press charges against your boyfriend."

BEEP BEEP BEEP! the gate announced its opening.

You took the time while he parked his car and walked to the door to throw out the wrappers from all your questionable “meals” (i.e., candy and ramen), change into slightly nicer sweats and splash your face so you looked slightly less dead. Just as you came downstairs from your rushed primping, Sam knocked on the door and you turned off the TV, tossing the remote aside. “It’s open!” you called out.

He turned the knob and stepped in with just one foot, peering around.

“Is the Terminator home?” he asked coyly. “Cause I actually think I’ve been assaulted enough for one week.”

“No, he’s gone. And don’t call him that.”

“What?” he shrugged, finally coming all the way in and letting the door swing shut on its own, taking his shades off and sliding them into the collar of his v-neck shirt. “It’s a compliment, and you really invite the killer robot comparisons when you’re part robot, look like a killer, and act like a thug.”

“He’s sensitive about the arm, okay? It’s one of the reasons he… it’s part of why we waited so long to go public.”

Sam glanced down to beside the door, where three pairs of your shoes were haphazardly lined up while his boots were noticeably absent. “And the fact that he’s moved out? When’s that gonna go public?” He always had an eye for these things, the bastard.

“I… I don’t know,” you sighed. “What do you want, exactly? Because honestly, I really can’t handle you right now.”

“I’m just trying to be a friend,” he explained, stepping closer again as you leaned against the breakfast bar.

“You seemed a lot more than friendly on Saturday,” you reminded him. “God, Sam, why did you have to do that?”

“So it’s my fault, then?” he rolled his eyes.

“No, of course not,” you assured, “but you knew I wasn’t single. I was actually happy… did you even want me back? Or did you just want to fuck with my life?”

“I did want you back, really.” He paused for a moment, more serious than he almost ever got. “I still do.”

You scoffed, looking away. “What happened to just being a friend?”

“That’s not why I’m here, this time. I’m just here to tell you that I’m worried about you.”

You took your weight off the bar and circled it into the kitchen, Sam mirroring you by following around the other side. “Do you want something to drink?” you asked, opening the fridge. He opened his mouth to answer but then leaned in as he stared at your hand where it was right in front of his face gripping the refrigerator’s door handle.

"He did that to you?" Sam pointed to the bruise on your wrist. You let go of the fridge and pulled your sleeve down to cover it again but that was answer enough. "Jesus, babe, this guy's fucking crazy."

"He's not crazy, and don't call me that," you frowned. "I don't think he meant to, really— his prosthetic is powerful and it was in need of a recalibration. He shouldn’t have grabbed me, but, he probably didn’t mean to do it so hard.”

Sam didn’t seem too convinced by that explanation, but didn’t say anything.

“Believe it or don’t, Sam, but either way it’s none of your business,” you frowned.

“Right, I know,” he nodded. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“And that’s you?” you pressed with an incredulous raised brow, opening the fridge again to grab yourself a green juice (because you were, again, trying to look like you had your shit together) and starting to walk away.

“I’ve changed, believe it or not,” he explained as he followed you out of the kitchen again. “Occasionally, people are capable of that.”

“If that’s true, then I owe it to Bucky to wait for him like I said I would,” you shot back. “I told him to leave so we could work on things separately. Not so I could entertain your come-to-Jesus moment.”

“It’s not a ‘come-to-Jesus’ moment, it’s just a ‘give me another chance’ moment,” he corrected as you took a long sip of the juice, “it’s a ‘maybe we ended things too soon’ moment.”

You looked at him in silent judgment as you kept drinking, and the way he was looking at you made you glad the glass bottle was keeping your lips occupied.

“It’s an ‘I’m still in love with you’ moment.”

Before you could stop yourself, you spit the juice right onto him, covering your mouth in shock just a moment too late.

For one of those indefinite moments, you were just staring at each other while you both contemplated that you had said he loved you and you had spat juice onto him.

“Okay, I was prepared to get shot down,” he admitted. “This is… worse.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you rushed, trying not to laugh, “I… I’ll get some paper towels, I can get you a new shirt, but it’ll have to be one of the ones Bucky left behind…”

“Oh god, it’s sticky,” he grimaced, as he tried to peel his shirt from his skin, “can I just use your shower maybe?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you nodded, “upstairs and down—”

“I remember where it is,” he reminded you as he stepped past you to make his way to the bathroom. “I knew I should’ve waited to say it until she was done drinking…” you heard him mumble to himself before he disappeared and you heard the bathroom door shut.

But truthfully, it wasn’t really the fact that he said it, or the concept of Sam loving you at all that made you spit out your drink. It was that when he said it, you realized you were in love with Bucky. Which, yes, would’ve been obvious to anyone else but it came as quite a shock to you.

It made you realize that you wanted to make this work. You wanted to be vulnerable, you wanted to try, even if it ended just as badly as it nearly had last week; even if it meant dealing with all the shit that you’d pushed down for so long.

You wanted to have another chance, this time knowing how hard it would be to be without him.

Just as you pondered what to do with that realization, a knock at the door startled you. Who could have made it to the door without buzzing the intercom?

Somebody who has the gate code already, you realized, and your heart sank. You weren’t ready to see him again— specifically, you weren’t ready to be seen by him again. Sure, cleaning up the trash and splashing your face was enough for a guest like Sam, but you had been imagining that when you saw Bucky again you’d be all dolled up looking like you were doing better than ever, like you were thriving without him just to rub it in that you were the best he ever had.

Couldn’t he have just waited a few hours after your realization so you could go to him on your own terms, with your whole speech prepared and everything? As an actress, you were much more comfortable reading lines than improvising.

Another knock made you sigh and set down the half-empty bottle of green juice, running up to the door to answer it.

“Hi,” he greeted soberly when you opened the door.

“Hey,” you nodded back, “listen, now’s not a great time…”

“Listen, I’m not here to cause any problems, or ask you for anything, I just need some of my stuff back,” he explained.

“Okay, it would’ve been better if you had come at another time—”

“I know, I’m not trying to invade your space,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have used the gate code, I didn’t mean to surprise you, honestly it was just second nature but I realize now I should’ve called first— well, I don’t think you’re taking my calls right now—”

“Bucky, please, we can talk later,” you assured, trying to shut the door.

“Can we?” he sighed. “I mean, will we?”

“Yes, but I’m busy right now,” you explained.

“When?” he asked, voice full of hope. “Soon?”

“I— I don’t know, sure,” you shrugged.

“You’re just saying that to get me to leave,” he realized flatly. “I understand, I don’t blame you— god, I just hate how scared you are of me. I’m everything I never wanted to be. I just wanted to keep you safe and now I can’t even do that, now you think of me as a threat. You should have the gate code changed, if it’ll make you sleep better—”

“I sleep fine, just go and we’ll deal with all of this soon— really, I promise!”

“You promised before and this week without you has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!” he returned, getting more emotional as he gestured with his hands. “I’m not saying this should all go away in a week, there’s so much more I have to do, but… but not being able to see you at all is killing me. And it’s not like I don’t see you, your movies are on every fucking channel, but you know, I don’t get to really see you, talk to you— that’s what I miss, I miss when we would talk for hours.”

“I miss that too,” you agreed, “it’s all going to happen, it’s just that I need you to go right now—”

And of course, Sam picked just the right time to come running down your staircase with only a towel around his waist.

Bucky tensed up as he saw Sam, jaw tightening. "Oh."

You had no idea what would happen. Was Bucky going to attack him again? Would Sam try to hit Bucky? Were you going to drop dead from sheer embarrassment?

Instead, Bucky just sighed a little and looked to the ground, almost laughing though he seemed anything but amused. “You’ve got a funny idea of what ‘being alone’ means,” he sneered.

“Sam was just—” you began to defend.

"No, it’s okay, I see how it is," Bucky informed you quietly, coldly. He didn’t even seem angry anymore, just defeated. "I'll leave. I'm sorry that I… I'm sorry."

And he turned to leave, you reached out and grabbed his arm. "Wait, it's not—"

He shrugged your hand away as he kept walking, forcing you to chase him.

"Don't leave, please— Bucky, I love you too."

He stopped, but didn't turn around yet; you just stood behind him, staring at his back as it rose and fell with a slow breath. When he looked back at you, his eyes were red, brimming with tears and heartbreak. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"I mean it," you promised.

“And what does that mean for us?”

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted.

“I don’t think I’m ready to come back yet. As much as I miss living with you— and as much as my apartment is so gross—”

You giggled a little, glad you could laugh with him again even if just for a second.

“I need more time. I’m not going to subject you to me until I know I can be… stable, again.”

“Okay,” you smiled. “Whatever you need.”

“But maybe we could… go out sometime? Somewhere where there aren’t paparazzi, ideally?”

“Uh, Vermont?” you offered jokingly. “I’ll find somewhere, though. We’ll talk this all out.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing a little. “Okay.”

With obvious hesitance, he leaned in slightly and gave you a kiss on the forehead. You wanted more than anything to get up on your tiptoes and kiss his lips, but it was probably too soon. He smiled down at you slightly before he turned to walk away, and you did the same as you made it back into the house.

“Hey, listen,” you began as you found Sam still waiting in a towel looking completely lost.

“That doesn’t sound like the beginning of good news,” he sighed.

“I’m so glad you were honest with me and I’m still really sorry for spitting on you, and for Bucky shoving you, and for everything awful that went down between us. And some part of me is always gonna love you, but—”

“I know,” he nodded, clearly disappointed but resigned in a peaceful way. “It’s okay. I had my chance, I blew it, and if this Bucky guy has his then I just hope he isn’t taking it for granted.”

You smiled a little. ���He’s not.”

“Then I’ll get dressed and go. Please direct me to his favorite shirt, so that I may steal it,” he requested formally, making you laugh, but you weren’t ready to let it go just yet; instead, you stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

“You’re a good friend, Sam,” you mumbled against his bare chest.

“Yeah, kinda wish I wasn’t though,” he sighed as he hugged you back.

“Kinda wish I’d made you get dressed before hugging you,” you admitted, the awkwardness of his nudity finally catching up with you.

“Yeah…” he agreed in a whispered sigh.

//

His palms were actually sweaty; well, at least one of them was. He hadn’t been this worked up about a date since high school.

But there was so much more riding on that now than there was then. If he blew this, you probably would dump him for good, and he’d become ‘that guy Y/N Y/L/N dated for a minute’ to the rest of the world.

And there was so much more to him than that— he was learning to really let that shine after three weeks of therapy on Mondays and Thursdays— and so much more to his relationship with you, but it would still be pretty humiliating. More importantly, he would be heartbroken if he never got a chance to hold you again, kiss you again, tell you he loved you not during a fight…

His eyes glanced to the door instinctively when someone stepped in, but it still wasn’t you. He checked his watch and closed his eyes: it was still a few minutes early, you probably wouldn’t be here until 6:30, since that was when you’d agreed to meet when you discussed all this over text. But the length of time between 6:27 and 6:30 just seemed to keep getting longer and longer.

When you finally walked in, it was like one of those movie moments where everything slowed down, the ambient noise and background music faded away, and all he could see was you. If this was it, at least he got to see you like this one last time.

He waved you over, watching you walk closer and feeling his heart race as you pulled him into a hug.

“I missed you,” he blurted out right away.

“Missed you too,” you mumbled back, pulling from the embrace as he moved to pull out your chair for you.

“So,” he began as he sat down, “do you… want me to go first? Or do you want to go first?”

“I love you,” you said instantly, and he couldn’t fight a wide smile.

“I love you too,” he whispered back.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” you grinned, “I think you should go first.”

“Well, now that you say that suddenly I forget everything I’ve been practicing in the mirror all day,” he chuckled. “I already told you I’ve been in therapy, and they finally got me on stuff for my PTSD… it feels weird to say it, to talk about it like I really have it… but I do, and I’m working on not being ashamed of that. What I am ashamed of is the way I treated you that day, how I let my anger get the best of me and how I hurt you when you’re the most important person in my life. You didn’t deserve that. And if I haven’t said it enough, I’m truly sorry.”

“I know,” you nodded, “thank you. I’m glad you’re getting help… I don’t want to see you like that for your own sake, too.”

“Just because you don’t hate me doesn’t mean you have to forgive me. And just because you forgive me doesn’t mean you have to take me back,” he reminded you softly.

“But I do forgive you, and I do want you back,” you promised. “And I want to apologize, too, for the things I did wrong… obviously it’s basically impossible for me to hurt you physically, you’re so much stronger than I am, but I hurt you with how I handled some things and I regret that.”

“It did hurt, but I still reacted poorly at basically every turn. I shouldn’t have gotten jealous of Sam in the first place, if you and him have something going on then that’s none of my business—”

“Of course it’s your business, Bucky, you’re my boyfriend!” you laughed. “You don’t need to be jumping for joy when I talk to my ex, you just need to not be that aggressive about it.”

“Am I your boyfriend?” he asked sheepishly. “Is he your ex?”

"When you came over the other day, and he was there… nothing happened, really. He came over, I told him I didn't want to be anything more than friends, he asked to use my shower… I don't know how to prove it to you—"

"You don't have to," he shook his head. "If you say nothing happened, then nothing happened."

“I mean, we hugged,” you remembered. “And he took your Fleetwood Mac shirt.”

“He what?” Bucky yelped, but then calmed himself down immediately. “Whatever, it’s fine, the point is that I have a lot of shit I still need to work on. Because the truth is, you’re not mine—”

“No, I—”

“Really, you’re not. You’re your own person. That’s what made me fall in love with you in the first place, I love that you’re independent and strong and… maybe a little crazy, but you’re exactly who you need to be. You don’t belong to me.”

“I don’t mind belonging to you as long as it’s fair, Bucky; as long as we belong to each other.”

“Sweetheart, you always had me,” he laughed. “From day one.”

“Then let’s figure your shit out. Believe it or not, I’ve got shit too… commitment issues, abandonment issues, daddy issues—”

“Ooh, I have that one too!” he beamed, making you laugh. “You know, when I was talking to my therapist, she had me do this thing where I talked about my hopes and stuff and, I don’t know, maybe it’s dumb but I wanted us to do that. I want to know what you’re hoping for for this.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “well, I’m hoping that you’ll move back in soon but not right away, maybe in a few months? I want us to get better at being apart, it’ll come in handy when I have to go to far off places for filming and stuff.”

“Totally with you,” he agreed, “might have to start buying some real furniture for my place though.”

“What about you?” you prompted.

“I’m hoping that you still think I'm cute enough to put up with some of my crap," he smirked, "if not all of it."

"Definitely," you grinned.

“I’m hoping that in the future, if you’re upset, you’ll tell me and we can work it out, and then have make-up sex," he added.

“Deal,” you chuckled.

“And, if I’m being honest,” he continued, leaning in closer and lowering his voice, “I’m hoping that I can take you home tonight.”

It was so simple, but it made a shiver run down your spine. This distance had caused more than just your heart to grow fonder, and you were craving his touch more than ever. “Where’s home?” you asked coyly.

“It’s wherever you wanna go,” he purred. “Your place, my place, the back of your car—”

“That one,” you nodded eagerly, “definitely that one.”

//

You wanted to go right then and there but he made you sit through the whole dinner, with all the trappings of wining and dining, though for you it sometimes felt more like whining and dying because you needed him so bad you couldn't think. But he stayed patient, keeping up the conversation, asking more about a new project you were tentatively linked with, telling you more about the newest improvements to his prosthetic.

He picked up the check, which was absurd to you but he insisted, and escorted you to your car as if his intentions were just gentlemanliness even though you knew it was far worse than that.

He (gently) pinned you up against the side of the car, kissing you slowly, making you melt like it was no effort for him at all. As his lips made their way to your ear, he whispered to you darkly, "get in the back and spread your legs for me."

You were sure you'd never obeyed an instruction so fast, hopping in and happily watching him climb in behind you. He instantly knelt down between your spread legs, holding you by your thighs as he pushed your dress up, and you were already lifting your hips up to let him pull your panties down to your ankles.

"So eager," he whispered happily, kissing his way up one of your legs and never breaking his gaze away from yours. Your mouth fell slack as you watched him get higher and higher, closer to where you were already dripping with need. "Been wanting to do this since that night, however many months ago, where I had to watch somebody else do this to you," he admitted with a grin that nipped at your inner thighs. "I know I've tasted you a thousand times since then, but I wanted to do it here."

There was a lot you could say to that, but it was all lost to a gasp as he licked one long, thin stripe right across your entrance and over your clit. Already you were shaking and grabbing his hair— he'd grown it out just enough that you could really dig your fingers into it, but even so he kept his teasing pace.

He kept going, that slow and torturous cycle where just as your clit got some much-needed attention, he started back over at your leaking opening again.

"The fuck are you doing down there, trying to figure how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop?" you finally groaned, making him chuckle at how demanding you'd become.

"I'm just making sure I do this right," he dismissed. "Want more, baby?"

"Please," you shuddered. "Need your tongue inside me."

He grinned and put you out of your misery, really latching his lips onto you now as he pushed his tongue inside and curled it against your g-spot. It was enough to make your back arch dramatically and your fingers clench on his hair, a little growl echoing out of his mouth and into your body in response.

Your legs were accidentally clamping down on his head each time he sucked on your clit, but he didn't seem to mind, if anything it egged him on.

"C-close, so close," you chanted our warning as his hands tightened on your thighs he gave wide laps to your throbbing button.

"Say you love me baby," he mumbled his demand against your skin.

"Bucky, yes, I love you," you whimpered. "Love you so much, fuck, I'm gonna come…"

He nodded as he wrapped his lips around your clit and kept sucking, harder than ever, until your whole body was literally quaking and you weren't sure if you had closed your eyes or if your vision just went black for a second. As if that weren't enough, he kept going until you had to push him off of you by his forehead, shivering and catching your breath as aftershocks rocked your body.

"You're so amazing," he groaned huskily as he sat up and pulled you into a rough kiss, the taste of your pleasure coating your tongue as it tangled with his. Just as you were about to reach down and attempt to operate his belt buckle with your tingling fingers, he pulled back from the kiss a moment too soon. "And now you get to drive yourself home," he grinned, patting you on the cheek reassuringly.

"What? That's it?!" you squawked.

"You just came so hard you nearly blacked out and you're asking me if that's it?" he smirked incredulously.

"I just thought you would want to, you know… go all the way," you explained, cringing at the immature phrase.

"Hey, I'm a gentleman, and this is still our first date," he reminded you.

"But aren't you, you know…?"

"Oh, I am," he nodded quickly, leaning in to bite at your neck. "Don't worry about me, princess, I can take care of myself." He chuckled at your whimper and pulled back to look right into your eyes. "But it's not about me, is it? You want my cock all for yourself, don't you?"

You nodded, making him giggle sweetly.

"Well, you're just gonna have to wait," he cooed, poking the tip of your nose with his finger and laughing harder at your needy whine. "We'll go out again next weekend and maybe if it goes well, it'll lead to something more, alright?"

"Okay," you sighed, "I can wait a week. I think."

He smiled and kissed you again, helping you pull your panties back up and rubbing your thigh appreciatively. "Goodnight," he whispered against your lips, slipping out of the car and shutting the door behind him.

You sighed and let your head fall back against the seat, watching out the window as he walked back to his bike. You hated to see him go, but you did love watching him walk away.

//

two years later…

“Will the Six Million Dollar Man be joining us?” Sam asked with a smirk as he glanced to the door of the bowling alley, checking to see if anyone had walked in.

“When he gets off of work,” you promised.

“Why do you call him that?” Natasha asked Sam innocently.

“You’ll see,” Sam promised, kissing his girlfriend on the cheek, but you figured there was a pretty good chance she wouldn't get the reference anyway.

Right on cue, Bucky appeared in the doorway and you and Sam waved him to the correct lane. “Hey guys,” he greeted, “hey babe,” he pulled you into a quick kiss. “And happy birthday, Sam.”

“Shh, keep it down, we don’t want any Hollywood people to find out that I’m aging,” Sam joked. “Are you gonna join the game or just observe?”

“I’ll join, if it’s not too late,” Bucky decided.

“Since when do you bowl?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Since I got the prosthetic recalibrated to throw the perfect strike every time,” he winked.

Beers and turns went pretty quickly after that, light conversation interspersed in between, until the more raucous parts of the evening died down and you left Bucky for a moment to join Sam at the bar.

Sam nodded to acknowledge you as you leaned beside him, and you ordered yourself one more drink before you called it a night.

“So, Natasha,” you started the conversation, watching the way Sam couldn’t hide his smile. “She’s great.”

“Yeah, she’s really something,” he agreed. “I wanted you guys to meet her sooner, but you were gone filming for so long and all.”

“Don’t fuck this one up, Sam,” you threatened.

“I’m trying not to!” he defended, before looking around like he was trying to make sure no one was looking. As you furrowed your brow and wondered what he was up to, he pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket and showed you a picture: a ring, with a massive diamond and accents of citrine.

“Holy shit…” you sighed, pulling the phone closer to get a better look.

“Had it custom made, I’m gonna pick it up tomorrow,” he explained, putting the phone away. “I don’t even know how I’m gonna ask her yet… I just know I need to snag this one before she slips through my fingers.”

“You’re really like a whole new man,” you realized aloud.

“I’m telling you, this girl… she really changed everything for me,” he sighed wistfully, and you nodded because you knew what that was like.

“I knew you just needed a good woman to straighten you out, Wilson,” you joked, patting him on the shoulder, “my only mistake was ever thinking it was me.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I thought it was you, too,” he smiled softly. “I really loved you, even when I was stepping out on you… and I think I needed to love you, and to lose you, to be here now.   So, thank you.”

“Uh, you’re welcome, I guess,” you laughed a little, taking a slow sip of your drink.

“And if she says yes, I’m gonna need all the marriage advice you have to offer,” he bargained.

“I mean, we’ve only been married for a month,” you chuckled, “I don’t think we’re far enough into it to really provide significant guidance.”

“And you’ve already gone through so much together.  Is he doing alright?  You know, his nightmares and stuff…”

You glanced over and where Bucky and Natasha were chatting, admiring how at ease he looked; he usually had a harder time with new people.  “Yeah, it’s been a lot better, he’s on new meds… how did you know about that?”

“He talks to me sometimes,” Sam admitted.  “And as someone who has played a PTSD-striken veteran in not one, but two major motion pictures, I’m sort of an expert,” he winked, but then got serious again.  “I would’ve asked him how he was doing myself but he wouldn’t let me ask him personal stuff on my birthday.”

“I bet he’d let you ask him for his opinion on the ring you just showed me.”

“Um, why would I want his opinion when he bought you that?” he grimaced, pointing at the ring on your finger.  “I mean, sapphires?  Really?”

“Cut it out,” you laughed, shoving him on the shoulder.

“Okay, fine,” he relented. 

“Are you coming to my premiere tomorrow, by the way?” you asked.  “I have it on good authority you were invited, since I demanded it.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he nodded, “Nat really wants to go, too.  She’s a big fan of your work.”

“Well, tell her she was great in that one about the missing girl,” you replied.  

“I’ll be sure to tell her exactly that.”

“We should head home, you know how early premiere prep starts,” you sighed with an exhausted roll of your eyes, finishing the last of your drink before grabbing Sam on the shoulder.  “Good luck with however you decide to pop the question with Nat.  Let me know if you need anything.”

He nodded and let you go, and once you got Bucky’s attention and said goodbye to Nat, the two of you made your way out back to the car.

“I’m glad you and Sam get along,” you reminded him as you squeezed his hand.

“What gives you that impression?” he scoffed.

You shook your head and smiled, letting him walk you to the car in silence.

Less than 24 hours later, you held his hand in just the same way as you sat beside each other in the screening auditorium, watching your latest film fade to black and hearing the crowd at the premiere— mostly cast, crew, and critics— erupt into applause.

"I have a little surprise for you," you whispered in his ear as the credits began to flash.

"I am not gonna let you blow me in this crowded theater," he instantly scolded.

"No, not that," you giggled, although you secretly wondered how much less crowded the theater would have to be for him to let you try it.  "Just wait until my name comes up."

Written and Directed by Hope Van Dyne

A Paramount Pictures Film

In Association with Europa

And then there it was, in big white letters, just as much of a trip to see as the first time you saw your name on the big screen.  But something very important had changed.

Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes

Everyone at the screening was clapping and cheering, but you were so focused on him that his whisper was the only thing you heard.  "Sweetheart," he gasped, and you smiled wide.  "You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to."

"It's just a stage name, if you want to keep it the same—"

"Buck, really.  I want your name there with mine."

"But your credits…" he protested, though the break in his voice made it clear he was tearing up.  "You're an actress and you've established your career already and it's so important to you—"

"Hey," you soothed, reaching up to brush your hand over his cheek, forcing him to look at you.  "Your wife is the most important thing I've ever been."

[theseerasures]

a yearning nation’s blueeyed pride

honestly there is just like. no point as of Witch (if not earlier) in thinking about Marrow and Winter as following along the same defection path, and downright facile to compare the two in terms of who is “closer” to defecting and therefore “less problematic” (even setting aside that making value judgments along those lines in fiction is...never that straightforward), when the narrative has emphasized REPEATEDLY how they are on entirely separate tracks in terms of character and role in the Atlas military.

seriously, it’s like saying “this orange is bad because you can’t eat the peel like you can eat an apple skin”

so like, yes, Marrow is the one who has verbally expressed his misgivings, and has clearly articulated scruples (as opposed to just the dial-up noise) and will blurt them out any second now as soon as he gets a word in edgewise. but also: Marrow HASN’T gotten a word in edgewise (except with Winter, fancy that), and has done approximately fuck all to actually subvert the system that he is growing to hate. both his theory and lack of praxis are tied into Marrow’s relatively low, overlooked position in the Atlas system, and feed into the fact that for Marrow the project of Atlas is not personal.

Marrow joined the military on ideological grounds. he clearly does want personal connection, but that has been denied him at every turn, largely by his teammates, largely by his partner, all of whom use him to enforce their own struggles with the clash between political duty and personal grief. he has been alienated by the system he upholds, which started even before we meet him. this makes it much harder for him to rebel in deed, because he doesn’t have a lot of power to begin with and he knows the system will not protect him if he does; at the same time, that relative powerlessness and isolation keeps his investment in Atlas abstract, uncomplicated, and much easier to dispel. Marrow is still with Atlas because he has a job to do, because it’s his duty, because he is still clinging to the Atlas military’s illusory altruism. he wants Penny to come with them so she can save Atlas. his protestations at seeing Team FNKI, that they are “just kids,” comes from the belief that it is categorically wrong to send children into battle. what is keeping Marrow from defecting is belief, and once the belief is shattered--like, say, when his boss’ new ingenious plan is to Nuke the Poors--there is nothing keeping him around.

and once his path is set he will not waver, because Atlas, by design, has no hold on him materially or personally (outside of his own life, which he was already happy to dedicate to a cause). Marrow then, is the limit case of Atlas being hoist with its own petard: an exemplar for how it gives its people nothing while demanding everything, but also an exemplar for how quickly the entire system folds in on itself when the veil is lifted. when Marrow defects (and it IS when) it will represent Atlas as a whole defecting from itself, even if we don’t see it visually--from the civilians, to the enlisted soldiers, to perhaps even members of Marrow’s own team.

NONE of the things i just mentioned really apply to Winter, because there is nothing about Atlas that is not personal for Winter.

i have no doubt that Winter is in some ways invested in same abstract principles that swayed Marrow, but that is constantly overridden by the fact that Winter has family at all sides of this, even before everything fell to shit, and the narrative will not stop reminding her.

“what about your sister?” “would you say the same thing if it was your sister inside?” her father was gunning for a seat on the Council. the man who took her in is essentially Head of State. Penny has made herself Public Enemy Number One, and Weiss is actively abetting her. even Whitley has now thrown himself into the fray, unbeknownst to her. and another person might be better at compartmentalizing all this the way Winter clearly wants to, and stick to the party line, but Winter cannot, because the more i watch her the more i’m convinced that the current crisis in Atlas is just a microcosm of the real issue, which is to say: everything is personal in Atlas for Winter, because everything is personal for Winter.

at a moment-to-moment level, and especially when backed into a corner, Winter defaults not to ideology but her tightly coiled lattice of personal relationships. and this makes perfect sense, because Winter grew up in a household where she had to perpetually crisis respond, and then she never stopped. Marrow does what he does because he believes in the dream, in making the world a better place, and therefore it is more difficult in some respects for him to defect, because it involves taking a long hard look at and then rejecting the structures he bought into and made himself complicit in. once lines are crossed and he DOES do that, though, he’s home free. for Winter, there are no lines to cross, because all Winter wants in the end is to throw her arms around everyone she cares about and drag them to safety. to keep them there, closely held, where she can see them and make sure that they stay safe.

but what’s tricky about Winter--what’s fascinating to me, what Jacques tried to beat out of her, what James alternately capitalizes on and tries to quash, what she resents about herself--is that in times of crisis (which for Winter is again ALL THE TIME), “everyone she cares about” becomes everyone, so that suddenly she takes a shine to the General’s war machine, so that she’s risking her life to give Penny and Fria a few more seconds of time, so that she’s stepping in front of Elm’s incoming fist, so that she’s letting JYR go rescue Oscar. Marrow has ideals he values, but at her core Winter has nothing but the people, who are real the moment she sees and feels them--real enough to defend, or defend against.

Winter jealously protects her web of people, but that web will also spiral out to infinity if she lets it--so she doesn’t. she has adamantly refused to move out of the mode where she lives present-by-present, only reacting to what is right in front of her, what she has been told, weighing her own life against the people who are closest, and no more. this is unquestionably a trauma response, but it’s also reinforced by 1) her choice to become a career soldier, and 2) the fact that Winter actually HAS quite a bit of power, and she knows that. but she has never trusted herself with any of it, largely because her hypervigilant response to situations has only ever been chastised instead of rehabilitated. Winter knows the weight of her name and her position, but she constantly tries to ignore it, or run away from it, so that she is only ever the heiress, the second-in-command, and never the Queen. she cannot be a leader until she is Good (that is to say, perfect and rational), so she tries to obliterate her power the same time she obliterates that pesky personhood: remaining still for as long as possible, avoiding situations that she knows will prompt action and choice, and when absolutely pushed to think through her power, moving the pieces around with extreme caution, hoping that the world won’t be burnt black by it.

Marrow and Winter are fundamentally at opposing ends of the personal-political bleed, and the story could NOT telegraph it any more clearly than their conversation in Witch, where Marrow makes a personal plea to Winter so that she can make a call far beyond just that, and she refutes him, by reminding him of his obligation to Atlas in the form of impersonal duty.

i’ll conclude by pointing out that there is something very interesting happening with Winter right now, that exceeds her power in-universe. because even as a Schnee, as Ironwood’s protege, what Winter can do is limited (partly because she limits herself), except for how the story has resolutely centered her actions and MADE them significant. in the course of this war Winter has let herself make exactly two choices--both of them noninterventionist, easily justifiable, and not meant to take any ideological stand--and they ended up altering the entire fabric of the war with Salem. all because she loved her sisters more than her duty. all because she was shown a slim chance to save the kingdom and a fourteen-year-old boy, and she thought just for an instant, what’s the harm

(and James Ironwood will never know. that even with his plan, his bomb, all his ships, all his soldiers...he was no match for her. his loyal lieutenant. the only child he will ever have, who has only ever called him “sir.”)

it is not about what Winter COULD have chosen in those moments, if she had the ability to stop Penny and Weiss from leaving, if JYR were even Oscar’s rescuers, in the conventional sense. it is about the fact that she DID make those choices, and the story has made them reverberate, in spite of the fact that she did not mean for them to. Marrow’s story is about being neglected and overlooked by the system, the moment of recognition that it needs you more than you need it, that there are so many more of you, and together you can stop chasing the dream and make your own. Winter’s story cleaves to the heart of not just Atlas, but the RWBY monomyth, which goes something like: stars are like us. the world was created because two brothers could not get along, and sundered because a woman could not cope with her grief. just because you move closer to the elite, to the center, to the top, to the sublime, it does not mean that you move farther from the fallible. we are all, at our deepest layer, people.

but the world does not tremble any less for it.

[pub-lius]

A Debunking and, in my Humble Opinion, Superior Version of Weird History’s “Hardcore Facts About Alexander Hamilton”

I haven’t updated my blog in quite some time, and that is due to my schedule being primarily dominated by school. So, I decided my first step into posting semi-regularly once more shall be a more casual, more fun endeavor. 

If you have not heard of the Weird History youtube channel, good for you. It is yet another social media platform that misconstrues history to appeal to the public’s enjoyment of extremes and strangeness. I saw The Historical Fashion Queens make a video responding to their highly misinformed documentary on corsetry on Miss Abby Cox’s youtube channel, which I highly recommend. This intrigued me, and I decided to find a video I could dissect off my expertise, at first only for fun in my own time. This resulted in the production in a very long bullet list in the notes app of my phone. So here is my informal destruction of this godforsaken video.

Disclaimer: I am not at all excusing any of the awful things Alexander Hamilton did during his lifetime. I am absolutely the last person who would even come near to claiming that many of the things he did were justifiable in the slightest. Although, he might be the only historical figure which I have a very strong interest in the life of, as he was incredibly complex, and the part of me with a love of psychology finds him absolutely fascinating. There is also something to be said about the way we consider moral standards of historical figures. We are quite lucky to believe in the time that we do, and not all of our standards can apply to historical figures. This does not mean they should not be held accountable. I find that a way to criticize people while also praising them where it is due is by judging them based upon their intentions. In my opinion, Hamilton’s intentions were not to harm anyone in most situations, so I don’t think he was a terrible person, nor do I think he was a particularly good one. Then again, I don’t think either of those things about a mass majority of people, so let us proceed without further delay. (Note: I will also be referring to the collective Weird History channel as the Narrator to avoid any mental gymnastics, and all of my knowledge is coming from my memory of Hamilton’s writing and some biographies.)

Automatically, the video starts with mention of the musical, but that just reminds me that many use Ron Chernow’s biography of Hamilton as a basis of their statements about him without utilizing much critical thinking, so I am slightly nervous. 

The Narrator then refers to Hammy Ham man as “...one of America’s most undervalued founding fathers...” Now, it is debatable whether or not Mr. Hamilton is undervalued per se, but when it comes to the founding fathers, they are usually undervalued or overvalued. At this point, Hamilton is both.

I shall not subscribe, thank you for the offer though, Mr. Narrator.

Now for the first fact: “Historians don’t know when Hamilton was born.” Yes, this is correct, but I don’t believe this should be labeled as “hardcore”, but perhaps that is just me. One early document indicates that Hamilton was born in 1755, while all later ones point to 1757 as his year of birth. We know Hamilton was not always a completely honest man, so it is possible that he lied.

Also, they show an image of a baby, and I do not know if this is actually Hamilton, but they use a lot of strange imagery, which I found humorous.

“A self-made man born out of wedlock.” Now, this fact could indeed be “hardcore”, if this was not colonial America we are discussing. Hamilton actually wasn’t really special in this regard. Yes, his rise to fame was impressive considering his circumstances, but this wasn’t unheard of.

The Narrator then says that Hamilton’s mother, Rachel Faucette, was “estranged from her husband.” This caused me some confusion as it is a vast understatement. Her ex-husband was absolutely awful to her. 

Additionally, they claim that James Hamilton left his family behind for some reason that I did not write in my notes, but the most likely reason that he actually left was because of his awesome debt. James Hamilton also had a history of ambitious pursuits for money, so it would not be extreme to claim that he moved to another island to attempt to make a fortune in some trading endeavor.

They also cease to mention the Stevens family, who housed young Alexander while he was working for Beekman and Cruger, and had a great influence on him, but I digress.

“A college dropout who joined the Revolution.” Once again, this isn’t special. Many rowdy young Whigs left behind their careers and educations for pursuit of military fame in the Continental Army. They also do not mention anything of Hamilton’s expansive military career, which aside from being indicative of primitive research, but would produce more “hardcore facts.”

Although, they do discuss his application to Princeton college, which is interesting enough I suppose, although everyone who has heard the first two songs of the musical knows this story. His proposal for an “accelerated course of study” was likely inspired by Aaron Burr, as claimed by Chernow and Miranda, or James Madison, as supported by evidence provided by author Noah Feldman in his novel, The Three Lives of James Madison, which is an excellent read. Young Madison, having already completed a course, decided to do so again, but compacting a usually three year course into a shorter period of time. He hardly slept during this period, which was stressful upon his health, making Princeton more disinclined to allow a similar course to be taken.

The Narrator then claims that Hamilton “formed his own militia of 25 men.” Technically, yes? But not exactly. Hamilton joined a paramilitary group called the Hearts of Oak, and they drilled in Trinity Churchyard. This became ironic later. He then became a captain in the New York Artillery Company, and enlisted his own men, which was at one time around thirty or so, if my memory serves me correctly.

“Founded a bank that existed for over two centuries.” Ah, yes, a very hardcore fact indeed. Yes, Hamilton did establish the Bank of America, but Robert Morris was the one who inspired him to do so. Though, I do think the financial plan is a product of his own genius, but I will get into that much later.

I got an ad. :(

The Narrator also says that the misfortunes done to the New York shipping industry by the Articles of Confederation were the most prominent, if not sole, motivation for Hamilton to concoct his financial plan. He first recognized the need for a sound financial plan when he was in the army. You know, when he was watching men die of inadequate supplies because the government couldn’t tax the states.

This video, like Chernow’s biography and Miranda’s musical, claims that Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr were friends when, in actuality, they weren’t really. Yes, they knew each other, and they didn’t hate each other until the end of Hamilton’s life, but they really didn’t think about each other much before the Election of 1800.

“Hamilton authored over half of the Federalist Papers.” Indeed, he did! I enjoy this fact. It isn’t very “hardcore” but it is very impressive. The Federalist Papers were arguably Hamilton’s greatest accomplishment, as he organized the entire thing and, as previously stated, authored much of them. I very much enjoy the Federalist Papers, as they give some insight as to Hamilton’s political and philosophical theories, as well as how he thought of the world. It makes for an interesting read if you have something you’re looking for.

Now, this may be a hot take, but Madison’s essays are by far more effective, as they were better organized. Hamilton and I share a common flaw, and that is the lack of brevity. 

“Involved in America’s first sex scandal.” Yes, we all know. I’ll get into the Reynold’s affair later because it’s its own beast to conquer. Basically what you need to understand information I shall provide later in this post is that James Reynolds extorted money from Hamilton, and if Hamilton failed to pay, Reynolds would expose the affair Hamilton was having with his wife, Maria. Hamilton paid, but when Reynolds was arrested for something else, he exposed Hamilton anyway.

“He worked with Aaron Burr to defend a man.” Once again, this isn’t very surprising. They were both capable lawyers in the same area, so it was basically inevitable. Though there was this one instance where Hamilton and Burr were working on a case together and Hamilton, being himself, insisted upon having the last word. Well, Burr was tired of him, and I can’t say I blame him, so he made every possible argument in his finishing speech, leaving Hamilton with virtually nothing. 

The Narrator also mentions Hamilton’s opposition to slavery, but he didn’t really outwardly oppose it as much as you would think listening to the musical or reading Chernow’s biography. Far from being the “fervent abolitionist” Chernow and Miranda glorify, Hamilton didn’t really do much for the enslaved. He helped John Laurens in his Black Plan and joined the Manumission Society, but other than that, he never made any attempt to progress the abolition of slavery. He also “purchased” slaves for his in-laws, and some argue that he “owned” some himself, but there is no contemporary evidence to support this that I have seen. The enslaved and servants that were in his household likely belonged to his wife.

“Founded a newspaper that still exists.” Ok.

“Died by duel.” I swear, this fact is by far the most unnecessary. They mention the duel so many times that it is already redundant. I completely skipped over this part, and the video ended, so I was thoroughly underwhelmed.

Well, seeing as this post is already longer than my attention span, I shall save you the pains of having to read any more in just one post. I shall make a follow-up to this where I give my own facts, which I believe are far more hardcore than “he founded a newspaper.” I hope you have enjoyed and this isn’t too terribly boring. I hope to get back to posting soon.

[mairen-marionette]

So, I have a headcanon for if Ranbob was in the same era as c!Dream and the rest of the smp

Ranbob before seeking Dream would try to connect with his descendant, Ranboo, lying that he was a distant cousin, and his friends

And then, he learns more about this era, realizing everything he’d even known about his ‘history’ was a lie

He’d have an extremely terrible crisis about it all, questioning if the path he chose, worshiping Dream and following in his footsteps, was what he truly wanted and if he really knew what he wanted. Not what Dream wanted, not what Ranboo wanted, what he wanted

And if he managed to join an alliance with Dream, Dream would use the fact they have the same moral high ground to manipulate Ranbob to stay in his side. That they’re one in the same, that they need each other. That they are the only one who truly understand each other

To rub salt on the wound, Dream would act like he cared for Ranbob, kinda like Starfruit Cookie and Pomegranate Cookie in Cookie Run Ovenbreak, basically using Ranbob’s mental state and his naivety as a way to control him

And sadly, he believed Dream and betrayed his ancestor for the man who made his life hell

Oof, that hurts. Poor Ranbob.

Personally, I believe that Ranbob actually knew more about the actual history of the server than he told the fishermen- that he'd questioned things, that he'd noticed how some things just didn't make sense and asked about them, only to be repeatedly told to drop it, to "quit saying things like that", to "stop trying to upset things," when all he was trying to do was make sense of it all. He loved learning history, loved making new discoveries and insights, and loved sharing what he learned with other people.

But eventually, some people got sick of this young junior historian who had not even chosen an Idol "causing trouble," and "slandering the Idols and the Founder," regardless of that not being his intention at all, and then poor, curious, naive Ranbob said something that was considered not merely slander, but heresy. And once that very severe accusation was leveled against him, in what was essentially an isolationist echo chamber, Ranbob didn't have much of a chance to successfully defend himself or his theories. It was a show trial, pure and simple.

Of course, there was still the matter of just what to do with him. And let's just say there are many ways in once an alleged heretic can be made to "confess" and renounce and repent of their ways, and while physical torture is considered barbaric, the same does not apply for verbal and emotional abuse, all under the guise of a "trial" and "making sure he's seen the error in his ways and thinking" all in front of a public audience for everyone to see and, after it had already been going on for a while, participate in until Ranbob finally broke down. and gave in. If small amounts of water were also used in the process, it was considered justifiable and part of the punishment.

The end result is that they got what they wanted, and poor Ranbob, who had only been seeking the truth, only been trying to understand and share the history he loved so much, was made to publicly renounce the theories and beliefs he still believed in wholeheartedly, forced to apologize for "causing trouble", and stripped indefinitely of his role as a historian until they deemed him "worthy" of a second chance, both as punishment and "for his own good." Not only that, but to put more salt in the wound, his research was burned in front of him- those carefully compiled notes, all gone. Months and years of his work all turned to ash in seconds- well, those that they could find, at least.

Overall, it broke him, turned him from a bright and budding junior historian to a betrayed and lonely brokenhearted outcast who was a shell of his former self. Not many people wanted anything to do with him after that, were still wary of him, didn't want to associate or be associated with him, couldn't take that risk even if they felt bad for him and were uncomfortable to say the least with how that trial was handled.

...If a certain green-eyed enderman outsider, who had feigned amnesia after a head injury so as to infiltrate and learn about this city-state and was then taken in by the city as one of their own, saw this happen and was horrified, sickened, and angered by the proceedings, no one noticed. And if he managed to find Ranbob days later, after the younger one had hidden themself away from everyone else, offering them comfort, validation, and a place to stay for a while, revealed his own secret to them, let them sob into his shoulder as he held them and told them they would be okay, no one else needed to know. They may've barely known each other, but Ran was an outsider and a spy and Ranbob was an outcast in their own city- both of them were alone, and when someone is hurting, they need all the help they can get.

And if Ran to this very day regrets not being able to convince Ranbob to come with him when he left, if he regrets letting Ranbob turn back and return to Mizu after escaping together to the surface, he'll take that to his grave.

He had gotten them both out of the city, out under the moon and the stars and was about to get into the boat when Ranbob froze up and found that they could go no further because leaving their home was unbearable to them. He regrets leaving his younger friend behind deeply, especially when barely a year later, he came across survivors from Mizu and learned about what had happened after he left- and Ranbob's role in it.

Later, when Ranbob happened to find that room, when he found actual, concrete proof for the beliefs that he had been punished and outcasted for, he naturally ended up latching on to someone who he found to be so very similar to him. Someone who was also demonized and made into a monster. And so, he made that shrine and followed in the footsteps of his newfound idol.

It may not have been the full history of the server that he found in that room, or even an unbiased version, but he certainly trusts it more than Mizu's version- he'd only accept otherwise if he could somehow see for himself what occurred in that era or found something or someone close enough. If he had the opportunity to see for himself what happened in that era, he'd take it.

And if his own idol ended up manipulating and betraying him, well- it'd break his heart again, I'm afraid. And I don't know how he'd handle that, I really don't- he saw himself in Dream's writings, in his journals, and I daresay things were a bit parasocial on Ranbob's part. He's strongly attached to c!Dream, and to have that attachment betrayed would be absolutely unbearable.

Ranbob had been lied to all his life, and if it turned out that the truth he had found was also a lie as well, it'd mess him up even more for so many reasons. He wants to believe in something, needed to believe in something, and he found that in Dream- if he lost that, it would hurt him greatly- it'd be like being hurt by his people all over again.

...I may've gone overboard here, I am so sorry-

[crazy-loca-blog]

Personal thoughts on Open Heart Second Year, Chapter 18

Note: As the title says, these are just personal opinions on Choices books and chapters. Of course, you may agree or disagree with them, I only use this platform to express my thoughts on what I read every week and what I’d like to see in the next chapters, because none of my friends play Choices so I have no one to comment the books with.

Last week I was so, so overwhelmed (in a good way) for everything that happened at that gala that I couldn’t even begin to write a post. My head was a mess! I had so much information on my mind that it was impossible for me to get one nice paragraph. Luckily, this means this week I have so much to say! So get ready, because this post is a long one!

First of all, let me tell you that after what happened this week, I’m betting for a 20 chapter book. It’s the only way I can see them making a proper closure to the story (with chapter 19 focused on saving Leland Bloom’s wife AND Edenbrook, and chapter 20 focused on fixing our own mess with our LIs).

I have mixed emotions on this chapter. At first, I absolutely loved it. It gave me such a rollercoaster of emotions that I just couldn’t help loving it. I went from being surprised to see Aurora back, to laughing with Zaid and Baz treating a patient together, to almost crying with the night out scene. I was really hyped! But then I replayed the chapter and I began to notice all those small details that you don’t notice when you first read it, and yeah, I have to agree with a lot of people who are as invested in this series as I am: something is not adding up after the rewrites.

As a person who’s romancing Ethan, Chapter 17 was a HUGE step in the relationship with the MC. The guy finally got rid of all his morals and his visions of what’s ethically correct dismantled the diagnostics team (aka “he’s not our boss anymore”) and decided to make things public with the MC (not “official”, but “public”). Now that I look at that moment in retrospective, I might understand the scene made sense so that the writers could finally level the field with people who are romancing Rafael, Jackie and Bryce. But this is when the first problem arises: the relationship with Rafael, Jackie or Bryce has never been public either. Sure, there has been some PDA between them and the MC throughout the whole series, but it’s not like our friends can say “oh, they’re a thing”, it’s not something evident. Why didn’t they use the gala for that? I simply don’t get it! They didn’t need to be “official”, just “public”. It was so easy, and I think it would have made things easier for the rest of the book.

And then we have this time jump… which now I’m beginning to realize it wasn’t as huge as we originally thought! Sure, we skipped Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year, and we went from winter to spring in, literally, one screenshot. So it may seem it’s been a long, long time since the gala… BUT… the book has been settled on winter since forever now (there was already snow in Chapter 13 when we returned to work!), so even though we know it’s been over a month since the gala (because, and here I quote Ethan Ramsey, “this will actually stretch our budget for much longer than we expected”), it’s not like we’ve been on that limbo for a really, really loooong time!

Of course, this doesn’t justify the fact that the relationships with the LIs were affected by this time gap. And this is where I think the writers made a huge mistake. I actually said something about it already, but the fact that we’re not staying in Boston to continue our residency (even though we know in the end we’ll stay) may be the thing that it’s delaying the fact that we’re not official with our LIs. Again, Rafael is staying in Boston… after the Panacea scandal, Jackie will go wherever she’s accepted… Bryce was looking at a hospital in Chicago… and the more I replay the chapter, the more I think Ethan is overworking to avoid thinking about his own future (yup, he is a mess and he’s delaying the inevitable… as usual). But this doesn’t mean we don’t want to know what’s going on with our relationship… like… long distance? breaking up? enjoying it while it lasts? Chapter 18 was the right moment to have “the talk” (there were at least two moments in the chapter that would have worked perfectly: those free individual scenes that we had with our LIs… or during the night out, after Ethan joined the gang at the helipad) and it didn’t happen… and yes, it’s disappointing and frustrating. They missed a HUGE opportunity.

Despite all this, this chapter gave us a bunch of good scenes:

1. The hospital scenes. This was a brief moment, but it was simply beautiful. In Chapter 17, we realized that “everything was about the mission” and that seemed to be a breaking point for everyone at Edenbrook. Seeing all of them working as the huge team they are, everyone overworking and helping each other just to help as many people as possible gave me all those community vibes that we constantly hear about in this series. I definitely need more of this in Book 3. The fact that they also connected all this madness with the closure of our interns plots was a nice detail. Can you believe that Gary Garrison was definitely the “last man standing”? Also, did you notice that Sothy and Elijah’s plot changes depending on the choices you made in past chapters? And I want to think that Sienna and Mitch finally talking about what happened will give her the peace of mind she needs and deserves.

2. Bryce’s diamond scene. I had so much fun with the Lahelas in Book 2. I love these two… I just can’t stop making puppy eyes every time we have a chance to witness such a wonderful relationship between these siblings. And Keiki leaving to boarding school was the happy ending they deserved. I’m so glad to see that there won’t be a new drama for them and that their parents agreed to send Keiki to boarding school. I loved to see how much Bryce grew in Book 2 (you know that I’ve always loved him, but now I came to consider him a “national treasure” type of guy) and how he really made his biggest effort to become the best version of himself we’ve seen so far. I’m so proud of him that it hurts!

3. Esme’s plot. It was nice to see that the relationship with her actually changes based on our choices. It still bothers me that we won’t know if she did it on purpose or not (I really hope we get to know the truth by the end of the book), but I felt proud of defending her after seeing how she seemed to be the only one who actually cared about Levi in that negotiation between his parents and the board, where everything was about “how much is Levi worth”. And I have to say that I fully agree with what Esme tells us if we don’t defend her… let’s be honest, the main reason why we got away with all Mrs. Martinez stuff was because PB was already planning a Book 2 of what Ethan did for us at the hearing.

4. The night out with our friends. We asked for it for a really, really long time. Book 2 was so focused on the hospital stuff that we missed those moments with our friends. It was so different from Vegas! It was intimate, it was emotional, there was this much needed bonding between the gang… there was a heart to heart that was long overdue! It was definitely a proper temporary goodbye to them. Besides what I mentioned before about “the talk”, I don’t think I would’ve changed anything about this scene.

By now, the final chapters of the book seem pretty obvious. I mean… Leland Bloom is a BILLIONAIRE and he loves to negotiate. Will he save Edenbrook if we save his wife? Absolutely, there is no question! We know the man is an ass****, but we also know how much he ADORES his wife and how genuine their marriage is (it’s 100% true love). She is also a caring woman, so I definitely don’t want to see her die. But how will they approach it? And here is where I want to see something HUGE happening (fingers crossed!). We know that the diagnostics team has been reduced to three people: the MC, Baz, and Ethan. BUT, at the same time, we have a full staff of people available to help (in the words of Ethan, “The other departments have taken the diagnostics team’s lead”... which leads to an inconsistency because the team is supposedly dismantled). So not only I see our team solving the case, but also everyone at the hospital involved on it. I can see Caroline Bloom taken by the paramedics to be admitted to Edenbrook, the nurses taking care of her, our friends helping to solve the case as part of the diagnostics team, Bryce, Harper and Tanaka performing some surgery, Kyra working on the paperwork… I’d love to see that, in the end, saving Edenbrook was a group effort and not only something like “the diagnostics team saved the hospital from closing”. That would be so, so nice to see and it would give every single character in this book the recognition they deserve!

[thegreymoon]

just read your convo on Mordred. Agreed that his betrayal was horribly written. Dude took a knight's oath to defend and protect Camelot and her king and he forsake that oath for someone who knew about his oath but still went ahead with her assassination attempt? In those Middle Age Arthurian tales, breaking that knight's oath is enough to make Mordred the villain. ps that deleted scene was touching and explains Mordred's odd little smile when he is killed by Arthur.

I’m just not a fan of BBC Merlin’s Mordred. Usually, I love Mordred, but in most adaptations, he owns his choices and is dedicated to his betrayal (and usually, it isn’t even betrayal in the true sense as much as it is a long con). It is consistent and his reasons are understandable. In contrast to that, BBC’s Mordred turned his back on the magical community and embraced Camelot and all its anti-magic laws when it suited him. He literally led the knights when they hunted the Bendrui priestess in that one episode. He betrayed Morgana (she was evil and insane, but still) for his own ends (literally stabbed her in the back, btw), and then, after all that, he flipped again and betrayed Arthur, who had been nothing but generous and loving towards him. 

I mean, yes, there is an entire conversation to be had about Uther’s war on magic being an actual genocide and on how BBC treated the victims and made them out to be the villains, while Uther, a certified genocidal, homicidal, hypocritical, self-serving, narcissistic megalomaniac was treated with kid gloves, but Mordred is not the one to put on a pedestal as some brave freedom fighter here. They had all the backstory, all the material they needed for a fantastic character, but they wrote him in a way that left him with no likeable or redeemable qualities in the end. 

I hate how people blame Merlin for the way he turned out, because, yes, Merlin did not live up to Mordred’s expectations, but the catch is that Merlin owed him no loyalty to begin with, except being morally obligated to save the life of a child (which, after a crisis of conscience, he actually did). Mordred proved on more than one occasion that as an adult, he truly was untrustworthy and a false ally and friend to everyone he came into contact with, on both sides. Merlin was a fantastic judge of character and Mordred did not pass the sniff test with him, but he had nothing concrete on him to oust him from Arthur’s company except for the fact that the vengeful dragon who had once tried to burn down Camelot told him that he’s bad news. In addition, he was conflicted because he did not know whether Mordred truly was a bad apple, or if he himself was prejudiced against him because he was so afraid of losing Arthur, which is why it took him so long to act directly against him with no evidence.  

(I think it is also important to mention here that Merlin might have “turned his back” on the magical community, but here’s the thing: Merlin never switched loyalties! He was Arthur’s creature from day one, he made that choice very early on and he remained faithful to it until the end. It was other people who had expectations of him that he couldn’t meet, because Arthur’s well-being was always his no. 1 priority. In the meantime, he did the best he could to save as many people as possible from Uther, and later from Morgana. Blaming Merlin for Mordred and Morgana’ self-serving, murderous ways and unsavoury choices is a pet peeve of mine.)

As for Kara, I would find her a sympathetic character if they had put her anywhere else! Her hate for Arthur is perfectly understandable, her wanting to kill him is also legitimate, she was a revolutionary and wanted to die a martyr. I’m all here for that! After everything that happened to her people under Uther, and Arthur never really renouncing him or his laws (and also taking part in the persecution while Uther was still alive), she was totally justified. But, I mean, of course Arthur was going to execute her, and I don’t blame him for it either. This is a medieval warrior king we are talking about here, how could he not? Also, it is important to note that he did not execute her for using magic, but for murder, treason and attempted regicide, and on top of it all, he still threw her a lifeline to save herself, but she rejected it! In public! She signed her own death warrant. 

The point is that even though Kara’s reasons justify her, they do not apply to Mordred and even though I like her on her own, the whole thing is obnoxious in context, as a part of a plot device to give Mordred a ~sympathetic~ reason to betray Arthur. I am so not here for Mordred’s manpain and a woman having to die for the incompetent writers to advance his horribly written character arc. 

Anyway, this turned out to be way too long! Sorry for the essay, anon! In conclusion, still no love for Mordred!   

[somuchfuckingsalt]

Percy Earned his leadership

Okay, the thing is I get almost personally offended when the fandom tries to write off Percy’s leadership because that boy earned the right to be CHB’s leader.

First off, the way that RR wrote the first five books was in a way where when you combine them together, you can track one cohesive story the same way you’d do with a single story.

TLT is Act 1. It establishes the setting, the characters, and the story. While there aren’t a lot of leadership moments for Percy, because it’s the first act Percy has a lot of moments where you can see his various skills that will lead him to becoming a good leader coming through. This includes his ability to think on his feet (how he dealt with the love ride), manipulate (Crusty), and make the necessary calls needed for the good of the world (sacrificing Sally to return to the surface and stop the war).

There isn’t a lot that happens in this book that happens that changes Percy’s internally and turns him into more of a leader. Aside from the decision to leave his mom behind, every moment of ‘leadership’ that he has are small, baby step versions of leadership. This book is mainly just getting Percy accustomed to being in the situations where a leader is needed while not necessarily pushing him into a leadership position (while Percy was technically the leader of the quest he relied heavily on Grover, Annabeth, and Chiron since he was so new to the world).

SoM is Act 2. Since we know who Percy is and we don’t need to be coaxed into loving him like the first book, this book is the one where Percy probably receives the most help. This is also the ‘training montage’ portion of the story and likely the reason that the Sea of Monsters was chosen as the setting.

There are a few moments in the book where Percy takes the necessary steps to become a leader but most notably are.

Making the decision to send Clarisse on ahead.

Stepping up and confronting Luke on behalf of all four of them.

The beginning of the book where the campers poorly treat him and Tyson is also important for two reasons. The first being that Percy sticking by Tyson despite the poor treatment shows what a good person he is, even though we know he’s resentful of the situation and Tyson. The second is that part of the reason Percy is so resentful is because the last time he was at camp he was Hot Shit. Everyone thought he was the bees knees because he had completed a quest and prevented a war. By having Percy be ostracized for his association with a “monster” Rick not only prevented Percy from developing an ego but it also teaches him something all leaders need to know - which is that public opinion is extremely fickle. 

This is also the book where we first hear that Percy is an ‘unreliable weapon’. Kronos specifically does not want Percy to be the prophecy child because he knows that Percy is difficult to predict, manipulate, and control. The gods themselves would be way less scared about how powerful Percy is if he was easier to control. By Percy being difficult to manipulate, that means he’s not going to wind up pulling all the people he’s leading in the wrong direction because someone else is pulling his strings. 

TTC is Act 3 and the mid-story low-point. This is the book where Percy fucks up the most.

He lets his jealousy of Thalia cloud his judgement, which directly leads to Annabeth getting captured.

He again lets his jealousy and pride cloud his judgement which causes the campers to lose to the Hunters.

A tiny moment but he’s so upset over Annabeth possibly becoming a hunter that he nearly kills an Ares camper with a javelin.

He’s so pissed at Mr. D he almost lets his anger prevent them from getting help, which would have led to all of them dying.

All of Percy’s fuck ups teach him that he needs to not let his emotions cloud his judgement and clearly see in BotL and TLO that Percy has learned his lesson. Even when his parents are in danger or he has his own personal drama with Annabeth and Rachel, he’s able to focus on the task at hand.

(The one time that Percy lets his emotions take control is when he takes off in the Labyrinth alone because he thinks Nico is nearby and he’s extremely worried about Nico because he cares a lot about him despite what Rick and his ghost writers say).

They also serve as a humbling experience to keep his ego in check, because at the beginning of the book we’re told that Percy had become accustomed to campers looking to him and up to him after having completed two dangerous quests. His issue with Thalia is that he feels she gets all the attention because Zeus is her father (whether that’s a justified feeling or not). This shows us that not only does Percy have some sort of expectation of leadership but also that as someone who spent his whole life either in the corner or in bad light, he has enjoyed being in the spotlight even if only a little bit, and now he’s missing it. 

This is also the book where Percy accepts the prophecy and basically puts himself in a leadership position for the sake of protecting Nico. However, for me, this isn’t the most meaningful leadership moment.

Percy’s big leadership moment in this book for me is when he takes the sky from Artemis and this is the big moment for many reasons.

For one, it shows that he has learned from his past mistakes of wanting to be the one to turn to. He acknowledges he’s not going to defeat Atlas and takes himself out of the fight so Artemis can fight instead. This is a great juxtaposition to the beginning of the story when he wanted to be on the front lines during capture the flag and have Thalia instead guard the flag (even though Thalia was right about the river).

For two, it shows his ability to make sacrifices because he knows very well that he can die.

And for three, it is his idea, his decision, and he has to convince Artemis it’s also a good idea.

BotL is Act IV, the rising action. The stakes are higher, the situation is more dangerous than ever, and our protagonist is digging himself out from under his mistakes of the previous act.

This is the book that while Percy has learned most of what he needs to in order to become a leader and has even chosen a leadership role, he’s not the one in charge. Annabeth is.

This book is literally Percy being Annabeth’s second-in-command because before you can lead, you need to learn how to follow. This is important to happen here because in the previous three books Percy either didn’t want to be a leader and/or he was fucking it up and had a lot to learn.

This is the book that shows us two things: 1) Percy's ability to sacrifice his personal wants and desires for the greater good and 2) why he is the best option to lead.

He does #1 first at Mt. St. Helens when he sends Annabeth away, because in the situation she’s the one that needs to get back for the greater good. Then the second time was when he sacrificed a peaceful eternity with Calypso for the greater good (not Annabeth, which the fandom, Rick, and his ghost writers seem to have forgotten).

Everyone is going to hate me for what I’m about to say next but bear with me. The BotL is showing us why Annabeth, the daughter of war and battle strategy, is not going to be the leader of their army in the series climax. To be clear, Annabeth is not a bad leader, in fact she is a good one, my point for the next bit here is why she’s not the best option. Throughout the book we see Annabeth repeatedly making the same mistakes that Percy made in the previous book; she lets her emotions get the better of her and cloud her judgement. 

The Sphynx moment is her letting her pride overtake her better judgement and she puts everyone at risk by refusing to answer the questions over an insult to her intelligence.

Absolutely everything with Rachel is an issue. From the first moment Annabeth sees Rachel and Percy together she is jealous and she treats Rachel terribly. First off, this is poor behaviour in general (and it should have been addressed in series and apologized for) but as a leader it’s poor for a few reasons.

Firstly, that as a leader she needs to know how to put her emotions aside in order to work with everyone, regardless of her personal feelings towards them. By not being able to be at least polite to Rachel, she risked Rachel saying fuck this, I’m out (probably the only reason Rachel didn’t is because she’s chill and she knew it was a world ending problem they were dealing with).

Secondly, it shows a certain amount of immaturity. The thing with jealousy is that although it’s not a reasonable emotion, how you handle it shows how mature you are. The fact that when Annabeth becomes petty and vindictive when she’s jealous shows a lot of emotional immaturity. 

Thirdly, she doesn’t fucking learn anything as we see her behaving the same way towards Rachel in TLO, made worse by the fact that she’s also attacking Percy. This isn’t entirely her fault because these actions don’t have any consequences that make her want to change her behaviour. Leaders need to be able to learn and adapt and check their own behaviour.

(honestly, the fact that Annabeth ended the series without at least trying to get over her pride and abandonment issues makes me feel like her character arc is incomplete).

TLO is Act V and the grand finale. It’s the book where Percy is 100% the Boss. It is the culmination of everything that he’s learned and shows off all the things he has that makes him a good leader.

Leaders need to know when to make sacrifices, evident by when he leaves Beckendorf and when he takes a million-to-one chance by dipping in the Styx in order to gain a chance at winning this war.

He’s cunning and manipulative, shown when he bribes the river gods into playing for his team.

He’s incredibly good at battle strategy, shown when he manages to make a plan that allows 70ish campers/hunters to defend the entire island of Manhattan from hundreds, if not thousands of soldiers from Kronos’s army.

He’s well spoken, shown when he’s able to get the campers pumped before the first battle.

He cares about the people that he’s leading. In the previous book he didn’t know Castor’s name before he died and he felt bad about that, so in this book every time he mentions a demigod it’s by name.

He’s clever, shown when he’s able to figure out literally on the fly how to kill the pig and that the hero that dies in the prophecy is Luke. He also figures out that Typhon won’t be defeated without Poseidon and knows what to say in order to get Poseidon to abandon the ocean battle and help the rest of the gods.

(Lowkey-highkey Percy is the reason that Typhon was defeated at all, because without him Poseidon would have never joined the fight and the gods would have failed, which would have meant that regardless of Kronos dying they would have been fucked)

He’s able to focus on the task at hand despite his emotional problems. This includes the times that his parents are put in the line of fire, both when they’re asleep and awake and when the Annabeth/Rachel drama is making him all kinds of angry and upset. In all those situations he’s able to carry on and largely ignore them in order to focus on the war.

To me, his deference to Chiron before the war officially begins is Percy a) being so used to following Chiron in everything and respecting the centaur as a leader and b) not entirely confident in himself and needing that confirmation that he’s in charge. While it’s never stated in the books that Percy enjoys being a leader, we never really see Percy lamenting that he wishes someone else was in charge even when he was neck deep in danger and death and stress.

No one ever questions the fact that Percy’s in charge. There isn’t ever a power struggle. Even with Thalia and Annabeth - both of whom have their own merits to make them leaders and the ambition/pride to make them chafe under the leadership of someone else. Everyone easily accepts and looks to Percy to be their leader.

I’m sorry if this comes off as rant-y and I’m likely going to piss a bunch of people off with my opinion on Annabeth’s faults, but Percy literally went through so much shit and learned and changed in order to be a good leader that it honestly makes me angry when people write him off for the sake of uplifting someone else. 

[wisdomrays]

TAFAKKUR: Part 423

BISHR B. HARITH

All human beings are fallible, liable to err and to sin. This is true of even the most revered saints. What is necessary is to cleanse oneself of all sins through repentance, asking forgiveness with remorse and a firm commitment not to sin again: Allah accepts the repentance of those who do evil in ignorance and repent soon afterwards; to them Allah will turn in mercy... (al-Nisa’, 4.17). There have been many people who committed great sins in their lives, but then repented so deeply and sought forgiveness with such sincerity that they could not take food and drink with ease (let alone with pleasure) on account of their grief for their past sins. Some sincere believers, like the Prophet Adam (peace be on him), were unable to raise their faces toward heaven, they felt such shame for what they had done. Since they regarded their faults as a sort of rebellion against Allah, their consciences were ravaged by the pangs they felt because of their fault and they became very alert to the possibility of a second lapse. The repentance of one who does not feel sorrow and remorse in the heart cannot be considered as true repentance. In fact, this saying of the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, proves that this is really so: Repentance is remorse. Therefore, it is not the commission of sin that is odd but the failure to achieve a true repentance. Also, people should not be condemned for their past sins; rather, bearing in mind that the gates of Allah’s mercy and forgiveness are wide open to all, what should be weighed is their present life and their positive conduct.

Examples can be studied in the lives of the Successors of the Companions of the Prophet, upon him be peace, and the Successors of the Successors, of knowledge (‘ilm), virtue, good conduct and courtesy. One of these great individuals was Bishr bin Harith, born in the year 152 after the Hijra, in the village of Bekird or Mabersam in Merve. He was well- known by his patronymic Abu Nasr. Bishr was an alcoholic and incurable frequenter of taverns. One day, while walking, he noticed on the ground a piece of paper which had been trodden upon. He stopped, bent down and saw that the word Allah was written on it. He went to a shop and with his last money bought musk, amber and rosewater with which he cleansed the piece of paper. He then placed the paper away from where people’s feet might go, to express respect for the Name. That night, one of the saints of that time had a dream, in which he heard this: ‘Go and tell Bishr that he cleansed My Name with musk and amber and I cleansed his name and purified him from all. I swear by My Glory that I will make his name loved and ennobled in this world and in the world to come.’ The one who dreamt this had known Bishr very well, and was most surprised because, to the best of his knowledge. Bishr had done nothing so remarkable as to deserve such honour. He meditated a while and made wudu and then went back to sleep. The same event recurred three times, with the saint dreaming the same dream successively three times. He came to the conclusion that his dream must be a truthful one. The following day he set about looking for Bishr, and eventually located him in a tavern. He sent a man to fetch him out of the tavern. Bishr did not want to come out and asked why he should. The man said that the one calling him had a special message for him. Bishr still would not come out, now wanting to know who this special message was from. The man returned to Bishr from the saint with the explanation that the message was from Allah. This time Bishr did not want to come out because he feared that he was about to be rebuked by Allah. However, when the saint sent the assurance that Allah would not rebuke him but, on the contrary, had good news for him, Bishr decided to come out. Bcfore leaving the tavern, Bishr turned to the people in it and bid them farewell with the words: ‘The Friend and His friends have sent me an invitation. I am going and you will never again see me in such places. And yourselves also, I leave to Him.’

No one saw Bishr in such places again. His life of wretchedness was over. From that time on, even though he was thoroughly converted to a decent life and had renounced all bad habits, there was one thing he never left behind him. That was the shame and the feeling of accountability for his former life. He despised worldly pleasures, became most particular and subtle about everything, and vowed never to return to those days. Also, he was never again seen wearing any shoes. Asked why, he said: ‘When I decided to renounce my former life and vowed not to return to it I was barefoot. So, because of (the memory of) that I become ashamed lest I should break my promise and return to my former ways.’ Because he went barefoot, he earned the nickname of al-Hafi.

Later, Bishr moved to Baghdad, settled there and began studying Islamic sciences, attending the talks and lectures of many eminent scholars of the age. He then travelled to Makka, Kufa and Basra to study further and expand his knowledge.

He was extremely particular and sensitive about what is halal (lawful) and haram (forbidden). He avoided eating doubtful things to such an extent that he once drank sea water, in view of the slight chance that the money with which the sultan provided water free for the people might have been earned through injustice, oppression, or other Islamically unlawful ways. He turned a deaf ear to the call of his self (nafs) and suppressed it by contradicting it each time. Even though his nafs desired to eat meat, he did not eat any for forty years. In fact, he did not earn so much as to afford meat. He avoided eating sweets in order not to spoil his nafs. He spent his days in hunger or continual fasting. Against the advice of those who tried to persuade him to eat, he said ‘Hunger purifies the heart, quenches one’s lust and carnal desires. and inspires subtlety of thought and knowledge’. In this way he urged people to mildness of conduct, sweet temper and frugality.

Whatever he did, Bishr wanted to do it just to earn the pleasure of Allah and utterly shunned publicity. He never sought to justify himself or what he did in the eyes of others. On the contrary, in true humility, he considered himself as lower than others. He did not attach much importance to the worldly life and always criticized and disapproved of people who sought the favours of governors and sultans.

Bishr had great intelligence (‘aql) and wisdom. He never gossiped about or slandered people. One of the scholars of his time, Ibrahim Harbi, remarked that ‘Baghdad has not raised a man who was wiser and who defended his tongue from idle talk and slander better than Bishr. People observed him for fifty years and had not witnessed him slander any one. It was as if he had an intelligence for each hair on his head. I never saw a man so virtuous as Bishr’.

Bishr was profound in reflection and reasoning. He held that not to commit sins and not to be disrespectful towards Allah is only possible through reflection and judgement, and that believers should thank Allah profusely for their iman (faith), which is one of the greatest of His blessings. Bishr’s sister, Zubdah, recounted this incident: ‘My brother Bishr visited me one evening. He came up to the gate of the house. He opened it, put one foot inside, suddenly stopped and fell into reflection. He stood still there during the whole night one step in and one step out in deep contemplation. I waited for him to come inside, but he did not. When the dawn was breaking, I could not keep myself from asking what he reflected so seriously and profoundly upon. Bishr replied: “I have been thinking that there are Christians, Jews and Zoroastrians who also have the name Bishr. My name and theirs are the same, but I am a Muslim and enjoy the greatest blessing of belief in Allah while they do not. So what a great blessing it is! And what could befall them in the Hereafter who keep from such a blessing of Allah?”

Abd al-Rahman Abu Hatim narrates this from Bishr himself: ‘I saw the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, in my dream. He asked me, O Bishr! Do you know why Allah raised you to such a high rank among your equals? I said, I don’t know, O Messenger of Allah. And he said, Because you follow my Sunna, serve the cause of righteousness, give good counsel to your Muslim brethren, and love my Companions and Family.’

Bishr bin Harith passed away in Baghdad in the year 227 after the Hijra. Many eminent scholars have recorded that people set out to bury his body after the morning prayer but only reached the place of burial at the time of the night prayer (isha) because of the sheer numbers who came to pay their last respects to so sincere a brother of theirs. May the blessing of Allah be upon him and his equals!

Sufyan bin Muhammad al-Masisi narrates: ‘I saw Bishr in a dream after his death. I asked Bishr how Allah had treated him, He said, ‘Allah forgave me and made the half of Paradise halal (permissible) to me.’

[cagestark]

-Defender//6-

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

just a lil chapter. Next is the last.

Read here on AO3.

-

Tony’s hand isn’t as burned as he feared. Once the initial redness wears off, the skin is just tinted pink and a little raw. Still Rhodey supervises down in Tony’s lab while the younger man applies burn cream to the tender skin. On top of all the callouses and scars that his hands already bear, he’s surprised he even feels it at all.

“I’ve never heard you so quiet before,” Rhodey says from where’s he’s seated on a stool on the other side of the lab table, the surface strewn with first aid supplies. The man’s dark eyes track his every move, mouth in its characteristic frown. “I’ve never actually heard you be quiet at all. This must be serious.”

“It’s not, really,” Tony says. But as he says it, he loses his confidence. What happened upstairs seems pretty serious: seriously concerning, seriously unexpected. In a deep, vulnerable place, Tony was seriously grateful. “Peter is protective. I recruited him a few weeks ago when I found him scaling the side of the building.”

Rhodey’s eyebrows climb up his sloped forehead. “Mutant?”

“Enhanced,” says Tony, slowly refilling the first aid supply kit. “Bitten by a radioactive spider, believe it or not. He’s got super strength, agility, and scopulae that help him stick to nearly any surface like Velcro.”

“Goddamn.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“So why are you the surface he’s stuck himself to?” Rhodey asks.

Tony lets the question linger, pondering it. This is Rhodey, who has seen him in all manners of debauchery, who has seen every high and low of Tony’s up-close-and-personal for the last thirty years—but that doesn’t mean it gets any easier to see the disappointment in his face. It doesn’t mean that Tony doesn’t fear losing one of the last people who cares about him, who tolerates him at all.

At last Tony says, “I think he’s kind of in love with me.”

“Kid’s got a crush?”

“Yeah,” Tony admits. “And—he’s not the only one.”

Rhodey sighs, reaching up to rub at his forehead. “Jesus, Tones. How old is he?”

“Legal. Not that it makes it any better with more than twenty years between us. Steve doesn’t approve. He thinks I’m grooming the kid.” 

“These people don’t know you at all,” Rhodey says. “Tony. Tony, look at me. That’s not the kind of guy you are.” 

“He’s the most righteous man alive,” Tony says. His hands shake, weakness, like leftover DT’s from the day she stopped drinking an inordinate amount of alcohol and only indulged on occasion. Weakness. All he’s made from are a dozen different weaknesses stitched together into the shape of a man. “You know me. Obviously I’m not one for self-reflection. But when the man who used to kill Nazis for a living always thinks the worst of me, maybe it’s because there is worse in me.

“Peter treats me like the sun shines out of my ass, all because I treat him like a fucking human being, but he barely knows me. If there’s one thing history has taught me, it’s that there’s Captain America’s side, and then there’s the wrong side. I always end up on the other side. Always. If Peter isn’t careful, he’s going to end up there with me, and that’s not what I want for him. He’s good, I think. In his core.” 

“So are you,” Rhodey says. “None of the Avengers know you, and you don’t even know yourself. If you did, you wouldn’t let yourself be treated like this. At least this kid seems to have some sense, even if he’s subtle as a brick wielding it. I feel a lot better about spending so much time in DC knowing that someone is here and in your corner.”

-

Peter rests his forehead against one of the glass floor-length window panes in his room, mouth full of sticky-sweet cherry flavored pastry. He can barely taste it. Up this high, Manhattan looks fake beneath him, a toy city that he should take care not to step on, like the lego structures he used to leave out around May’s apartment when he was a boy. 

May. The pain of losing her never gets easier. There is no coping, there is just forgetting. Times when his mind is so full up with other things that there is no room for even her, when he’s working on a machine, when he’s training with Natasha in the gym. Then in moments like this, her memory comes rushing back in, and it’s like the grieving process starts over. She dies again to him, every day. 

Are you ashamed of me? Peter wonders, looking into the cloudless sky. There is no answer. 

May had never liked violence, but she was fierce in her own way. She believed in justice, she believed in compassion. Would she think he overreacted in the kitchen when he’d threatened to tear off another enhanced’s limb? Or would she think him justified, if she knew of the things Steve and the rest of the team had done to Tony? Just thinking about it makes his blood boil. People who had hurt Tony physically and emotionally, people who had no respect for him, people who still took advantage of every bit of his goodwill. Unremorseful people. 

Glancing down, Peter sees that he’s crushed his other poptart to crumbs. Kneeling down to sweep them into the palm of his hand, his spine goes stiff, just a brief moment of warning—someone at the door, not Steve, not Tony, someone—before there is a firm knock. Abandoning the crumbs, Peter opens the door a crack, afraid of who might be on the other side. 

A dark, serious complexion greets him. 

“Hi,” Rhodey says. “Can I come in?” 

“Of course,” Peter says, opening the door wide to let him past. He catches a brief glimpse of the other Avengers standing huddled together, eyeing Peter’s room with wariness before he shuts the door on the image. 

It must look strange, a young man whose room is so empty. No photographs on the wall, no pile of clothes on the floor, no posters or game consoles. The bed is made (unslept in most nights, though Rhodey would have no way of knowing that sometimes Peter feels more comfortable in enclosed spaces, that he curls up inside the closet empty except for clothes hangers or that he crawls underneath the bed to sleep). Combined with his display in the kitchen, he can’t imagine what the older, distinguished man must think of him. 

“Is Tony’s hand okay?” Peter asks. He can still hear the pained hiss the man made when the steaming coffee spilt onto his bare flesh. It makes that feeling come up in Peter all over again, that feeling like he has swallowed fire, fury like acid that eats at his stomach, fury that he wants to spit out at someone. At Steve Rogers. “I should have stayed to make sure.” 

“It might blister,” Rhodey says. “But he gets worse down there in his lab on the daily. That’s not why I’m here.” 

“Why are you here then?” 

“Tony is important to me. The most important person in my life except for my own mother. I’ve been watching his back since he was a teenager, and short of dying, nothing’s ever going to change that. That’s either going to make us friends or enemies, Parker. Your choice.” 

On the lengthy list of threats Peter’s received in his life, this is easily the most charming. Rhodey isn’t even enhanced. Peter could kill him without breaking a sweat, could tear his head from his body, could pull off his arms and legs the way other kids do to spiders, to smaller, weaker creatures. But there’s still something formidable about the other man. At the very least, there is something respectable. 

“Anyone in Tony’s corner is someone I want to be friends with,” Peter admits. 

Rhodey’s expression softens. He holds out a hand that Peter meets with his own. “Then you’re alright by me, kid. You could use a lesson in picking your battles, though. It doesn’t take enhanced powers of deduction to see that Rogers wants you off the team.” 

“I’ll fight any battle that protects Tony.” 

“And when you’re on the bench because Rogers has convinced the Powers that Be that you’re too unpredictable to be in the field? Who’s going to be protecting Tony then? Too many injuries have happened on missions because not a single one of them can be counted on to have Tony’s back. You could change that, if you’d get a grip on your temper,” Rhodey says. Peter’s shoulders sag—he hadn’t even thought of that. 

“Sometimes I can’t help it,” Peter admits. “It feels like there’s this monster inside of me. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde or something. When they say something bad about Tony or when they hurt him, some flip inside me gets switched. How do I stop?” 

“You’ve got to choose what’s more important to you,” Rhodey says. “Protecting Tony or avenging him.” 

For a long time after Rhodey leaves, Peter stands at the wall of windows, staring out unseeing at the city below while he cycles through everything that Colonel Rhodes said, wondering again and again, Why can’t Peter do both?

-

“This is like, a foreign language to me,” Peter mutters, flipping through the textbook that Tony had retrieved for him. The cover reads FUNDAMENTALS OF ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING. The glossy margins are filled with Tony’s tiny scrawl, and Peter runs his fingers reverently over the writing trying to imagine a fifteen year old boy scribbling on each page. He’s seen pictures, newspapers archived on the New York City Public Library computers of a young, handsome boy crouched beside a robot he built, smiling into the camera. Fifteen years old, and this had been nothing to Tony. Peter is twenty and it takes him ages to get through a single paragraph, googling foreign terms on his phone and struggling to understand the abstract concepts. 

Tony glances up from his StarkPad. He balks at the expression on Peter’s face and turns the tablet off, sitting it aside. “Come over. We can go through it together.” 

“You’d explain it to me?” Peter asks, raking his eyes over the older man’s face. Fuck, Tony is so handsome. That look he’s giving Peter, too, the unbearably tender kind, the fond kind, it makes him all the more beautiful. He’s not above asking Tony for help. His pride was one of the first things he had to let go of when he began to live and sleep rough. “I feel like an idiot.” 

“You’re far from an idiot,” Tony says. He pats the seat next to him and they sit shoulder to shoulder, close enough that Peter can soak up the man’s warmth, struggling not to sway ever closer. Tony has his own gravity, and Peter often feels helpless to it. “You’re self-taught. It’s no wonder that a lot of this technical jargon isn’t connecting.” 

They make it through the first chapter together, and Tony was right—much of it Peter was familiar with, though it hadn’t been presented in terms he knew. Tony is an excellent teacher, too. Patient and insightful, witty. He soothes Peter’s fears that he isn’t smart enough, builds confidence in him that maybe he could learn to be an engineer the way he’d always dreamed. 

“We should send you to school,” Tony says afterwards, handing Peter a chilled Coke from the refrigerator. “An Avengers Scholarship, maybe. Full ride, all the amenities, only the best schools and tutors.”

“You mean you won’t be my private tutor, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, letting his eyes get wide and sweet. Most older men find the guileless thing sexy, but Tony just laughs at him. 

“I wouldn’t want to put your education in jeopardy. People will hardly be able to say I’m an unbiased educator,” Tony says. The warm, dark eyes drop to Peter’s mouth for just a moment before looking away, drinking deeply from his own Coke. “Though I’m sure we could come up with some incentive program for good grades.” 

“Incentive program, oh,” Peter laughs. “I like the—”

An alarm begins to sound, loud enough that Peter feels it in his teeth and deeper. It’s louder, harsher than the sound of Tony’s doorbell. The reaction it evokes in the older man is visceral as well, eyes going wide, jaw going tight as he taps at his glasses. The sound cuts out of the penthouse, but Peter can hear it continuing on in the floors below. 

“What’s wrong?” Peter asks. “Are we under attack?” 

“Someone is. That’s the alarm for the Avengers to assemble.” 

-

The people under attack are on the west coast. Some ‘half-rate magician’ (Dr. Stephen Strange’s words, not Peter’s) had accidentally conjured inter-dimensional creatures that they couldn’t control nor send packing. The Avengers are being sent to round them up and with the assistance of Dr. Strange, send them back to where they’ve come from. 

For the first time, Peter meets Director Nick Fury, a black man with one eye and a direct way of speaking that Peter can appreciate. Around the table are seated seven other Avengers: Natasha, Steve, Clint, Sam, Wanda, Vision, and Tony himself. After Fury ends his briefing on the situation, Steve stands and begins to formulate the briefest bones of a game plan and—

Peter isn’t in it. 

“Sorry, kid,” Steve says. “You’re not yet cleared for field work. Maybe next time.” 

“I’ve been working with Natasha for weeks,” Peter says. Colonel Rhodes words play on a loop in Peter’s brain, and they’re his lifeboat in the sea of anxiety that threatens to drown him. Peter needs to stay calm and play it cool. It’s the only way he’ll be allowed to have Tony’s back, and he must have Tony’s back. “This seems like the perfect mission for me to get my feet wet.” 

Tony sits beside Peter, silent and stiff. Director Fury watches all of them with a cool, knowing gaze when he says, “He’s got a point, Captain.” 

“We’ve got protocols for a reason,” Steve says. “Putting you in the field before you’re ready is an easy way to get hurt, Pete. Sorry, but the answer is no.” 

All eyes turn to Fury, who nods to Steve magnanimously. “Don’t look at me,” he tells them. “That’s your team leader. It’s his call.” 

Peter listens to the rest of the plans with his hands clenched in his lap, knuckles turning white. He cycles through every stage of grief, and as soon as the team breaks to head to the room where the helicarrier will take them to California, Peter catches one of Tony’s wrists to keep him from filing out of the room, just another soldier under Captain Rogers’s command. 

“Please don’t go,” Peter mutters. Director Fury watches them unabashedly, his arms crossed. Tony lifts a hand to ruffle Peter’s hair, but the expression on his face is downright grim.

“Don’t worry about me, kid,” Tony says softly. “I’ve been doing this gig for years now, and I haven’t died yet.” 

That doesn’t comfort Peter at all. When Tony leaves, he takes all the warmth with him until Peter feels chilled to the bone. 

“Parker. Nice to officially meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Director Fury says. He doesn’t offer his hand to shake, and neither does Peter. 

“From who?” Peter wonders out loud. “Captain Rogers?”

Fury hums noncommittally. “Don’t worry about Stark. He is an asset to the Avengers, and I will do all I can to ensure his safety.” 

“With all due respect Director Fury—he is not just an asset,” Peter says. Too afraid of what else might come from his mouth, come straight up from that dark place inside of him fueled by fear and anger and hurt, Peter lets his feet guide him back to the elevator. Without asking, FRIDAY takes him up to Tony’s penthouse. When Tony gets back, Peter plans to move back in (so long as the older man wants him to). He tells himself that again and again. When Tony gets back. When. 

Peter sits and he waits.

[aion-rsa]

Salma Hayek in Savages is One of the Most Underrated Movie Gangsters

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“You thought I wouldn’t notice,” cartel boss Elena Sánchez (Salma Hayek) demands of her loyal caporegime Ludo (a physically and emotionally imposing Benicio del Toro). The brutal and effective killer does not defend himself when the head of his family, and boss of bosses, slaps him with the force of a bull whip. He doesn’t even flinch. That would mean death. Oliver Stone’s Savages may not be his most renowned mob movie offering, but Hayek’s drug lord is one of cinema’s most groundbreaking gangsters.

Stone is no stranger to iconic gangsters. He wrote the screenplay for Brian De Palma’s Scarface, which brought Al Pacino’s coke-fueled Cuban political asylum seeker, Tony Montana, into celluloid’s perennial rogue’s gallery. For his 2012 cartel twist of a gangster film, Savages, Stone let Hayek reset the template. Her Elena Sánchez is street smart, tech savvy and a wiz at business. Her venture is so cut-throat, her underlings sever heads in their enthusiasm. Sánchez commands that much loyalty. Her gang decapitates wayward members, rivals and other stray wolves to bring lambs into the fold. They capture the proceedings on video which they send as messages in introductory offers of hostile takeovers.

Our ostensible heroes in this environment are Ben (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) and Chon (Taylor Kitsch), who’ve been friends since high school. Ben went to Berkeley and took botany classes; Chon went into the military and took seeds. The latter’s tour of duty in Iraq left him seething with trauma but well-trained tactically. His tour in Afghanistan left him tactless, but introduced him to the finest marijuana in the known world. The pair now run a multimillion-dollar cani-business in the era when the plant was on the verge of becoming legalized on the West Coast. They, and their mutual live-in girlfriend O (Blake Lively), are idealists, using their new wealth to invest in philanthropy. Sánchez’s cartel wants them to join the “family.” It is a renowned and venerable matriarchy.

Sánchez’s enterprise is larger than Vito Corleone’s in The Godfather, but then she is a wise and tough-nurturing godmother. Nicknamed La Reina, the boss of the Mexican Baja Cartel doesn’t merely conquer her competitors, she destroys idealism. To get the thing she wants, Elena kidnaps the thing Ben and Chon love most, O. This is a talent, discovering the things which people most treasure. When Tom Hagen reported back to his don in The Godfather, the family father discerned the Hollywood bigshot Jack Woltz loved his prized racehorse more than any other thing on earth. He sent a message.

Elena’s most potent message is a niche-meme of sorts. While streaming live footage of O in tortuous circumstances, she cuts to an animation of O’s head popping off, leaving an ever-increasing stain of blood which ultimately covers the screen. That’s her horse’s head. This is a message movie and that’s “the word.”  Hayek is a versatile performer. She brought black comedy subtlety to her roles in The Faculty and Dogma; sensual earth tones to Frida; and romantic fantasy into Once Upon a Time In Mexico. She ratted out her gangster boss in Everly, but made her bones as an assassin in The Hitman’s Bodyguard. Hayek has also proven herself a master thief, stealing From Dusk Till Dawn with one scene which she shared with George Clooney, Quentin Tarantino, and a snake. In Savages, Hayek is allowed to be something female characters are routinely denied: ruthless, amoral, and savage.

Hayek presents a straightforward boss with strong family values. Elena Sánchez took over the cartel after the deaths of her husband and twin sons, but there is no room for irony for the Black Widow character. Hayek expertly balances public bravado and private sorrow. Elena is wise, like someone who paid attention to the lessons of different generations. Warnings about getting high on your own supply, and underestimating the other guy’s greed, would sound perfectly natural coming out her mouth. She’s the antithesis of her prisoner, whom she calls Ophelia after sensing the young woman exudes the need for a mother’s accumulated knowledge. Elena’s own actual daughter similarly rejects the past in the movie, but this is a gangster film tradition, sadly. Every mob boss wants their children to move into a thriving legitimate world. Elena says her daughter is “ashamed of me and I’m proud of her for it.”

The gangland dictator’s only vulnerability is her teenage daughter. It is also Elena’s strength. A mob godfather chalks blood up as an expense. Elena, the mother, is not only capable of doing anything for her children, but also justifying any action because it is done for her children. She only took over the cartel because her son was weak and would have been killed. This makes her character fearless.  

Regardless of the hard-bodied eye candy, Taylor-Johnson, Kitsch, and Lively are bland next to Hayek and del Toro, who see entitlement and philanthropy as disgusting conceits of wealth and soft privilege. Lively’s Ophelia is not a deep, William Shakespeare tragic figure. She’s Paris Hilton in a hemp halter top, a seeming trophy for the nouveau stoner rich. O neither shocks nor impresses the crime queen, whose got hideaways and mansions scattered internationally for whim or lam.

“There’s something wrong with your love story, baby,” wise mob boss Elena notes like she’s doling out favors at her daughter’s wedding. “They may love you but they will never love you as much as they love each other. Otherwise they wouldn’t share you, would they?” Their ménage a trois relationship is also seen as absolutely savage to del Toro’s Lado.

The Mexican gang think the gringos lack dignity, tradition, family, and honor. The Californians are appalled by the brutality of the narco-traffickers from south of the border where torture is a routine cost of doing the business. Local D.E.A. agent Dennis (John Travolta) puts his trust in graft. He skims profit from Elena, accepts bribes from her rival El Azul, as well as Lado, and Ben and Chon. Yet he is surprised when he gets bit on the hand at feeding time. “You stabbed a federal agent,” he moans as his faith is shaken in a scene reminiscent of the death of Mel Bernstein in Scarface. Sadly, it only expands Dennis’ jurisdiction.

It is noted in the film that Elena is counting on the reelection of a specific mayor to retain her power base in Mexico. Stone directed the 2009 documentary South of the Border, which presented the untold histories of leftist Latin American presidents. Savages, a commercial film, presents the cultural relationship between Anglo-Americans and Latinos in a way mainstream Hollywood films rarely attempt. Most of this is done through normalizing sequences which act as allegorical bridges, such as when Elena flips back and forth between English and Spanish when chastising Lado and the high-ranking cartel accountant Alex Reyes (Demián Bichir). She is as much a mob representative as when Lado greets Ben with a warm “Welcome to the barrio” as he lets him into his Tijuana hotel suite.

Elena brings an entirely new and unique reworking of the South American narco boss cliché. This is best illustrated with the most subtle of the film’s social commentary, delivered by del Toro, who’d previously won an Oscar for his role in the drug war film Traffic. When Lado drops by Dennis’ house, he’s backed by a landscaping crew packing chainsaws.

Savages is an adaptation of Don Winslow’s pulp fiction novel but only hints at the violence journalist Ioan Grillo wrote about in the book El Narco. The film is set in Southern California’s Laguna Beach, which is close to the province of the Sinaloa Cartel. The film says Elena heads the Baja Cartel, which has operated in the U.S. for years. Sandra Avila Beltran was known as La Reina del Pacifico, but Elena’s circumstances more loosely resemble Veronica Mireya Moreno “La Flaca” Carreon, the first known female leader of the Los Zetas gang of San Nicolas de los Garza near northern Mexico.

The authentic blend of known crime figures brings an immediacy to the character. Hayek’s realism registers subconsciously, adding shades to the gangster persona which blur into a real person. It also instills a real sense of peril. We worry about the antihero.

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But never forget, Elena is a badass. Savages reflects the violence of the then-ongoing drug wars in Mexico. It looks real and feels painful. The first shot the audience gets of the cartel is a blood-slicked concrete floor, headless bodies and decapitated heads, and Lado in a Lucha Libre freestyle wrestler mask. Elena’s crew is one of the most efficiently lethal in the business. Anything less is unacceptable. Lado calls in a debt on lost years from a former attorney by shooting him in both knee caps. He retires Esteban, the henchman who watched over Ophelia while she was in captivity, because he is too soft.

One thing which separates Savages from the many drug war genre films is how Stone mixes media. He artfully moves through visual formats, color schemes, black and white grit, webcam and cell-phone video pixelation, though all of this is restrained when compared with Natural Born Killers. In that film, the villains were strong but powerless, hurled by forces beyond their control. In Savages, Elena exudes authority. “We didn’t make you an offer to hear a counteroffer,” she explains confidently, turning the screw on mere offers you can’t refuse. “We made you a deal to which we expected compliance.”

Stone is as fascinated by power as he is repelled by it. Like many gangster and Stone films, the mobsters at the center of Savages are allegories. Stone took on financial criminals in Wall Street, and here Elena’s cartel is likewise a modern corporation of sorts, putting the squeeze on the little guy. It’s the same thing real-life Bronx bootlegger Dutch Schultz did when he took over the Harlem numbers racket. The Sánchez expansion is the same as when the Corleone family moved in on Las Vegas. Elena muscles in during negotiations, dropping golden parachutes with balloon interests, percentages, sliding scales over three years, and other buzz-killing business school collateral damage. Even as talks deteriorate, Sánchez keeps a cooler head than Tony Montana and is able to strategize in the long term.

Her operations are brazen. When negotiations aren’t being carried out via computer, business is conducted in public, under the protective shield of a small squadron of snipers. Her hackers are as expert as Ben and Chon’s. All of this was within state of the art, real-time operations, which further solidifies Sánchez’s bona fides. Stone spent 15 months of combat duty in Vietnam, and assigned Kitsch to train with a Navy SEAL advisor during filming. Blakely told Collider she “met a little girl who had been kidnapped by the Mexican drug cartel.  We met people in, of all areas, the marijuana field.” Hayek spoke with members of drug gangs.

“I actually talked to some people involved in the cartel that described, on two different occasions, women that have gotten quite high in the cartel,” Hayek told Collider.  “As a matter of fact, they are incredibly efficient, much more so than men… The women are actually colder. The guy gets angry and thinks he has to do something, and the women are not like that. They are all about the business. They’re not about the vendetta, or who is more macho. They’re about getting things done.”

Elena Sánchez gets things done, and she does it with style. This is a real gangster policy which goes all the way back to Arnold Rothstein, who cleaned up street thugs like Lucky Luciano and Meyer Lansky, put them in suits, and taught them which forks to use at dinner. Dutch Shultz laid out a small fortune to outfit his outfit in the latest fashion. In Dead End, Baby Face Martin (Humphrey Bogart) shows off his silk suit, tailor-made.  The gangsters in Sergio Leone’s mob masterpiece Once Upon A Time in America wore wingtip collars. In American Gangster, Denzel Washington’s Frank Lucas blows his cover to drape himself in a chinchilla coat.

Hayek set Elena’s style in stone, wearing the same diamond necklace and silken black wig in every scene. “These women know they are going to be an icon and they create a character,” she told THR.  “These women design themselves. They don’t want to be versatile. They want you to always remember them.”

Elena Sánchez may only remember Ben and Chon by their nicknames, “Nothing Personal” and “Eat Shit Caviar,” but Salma Hayek presents an unforgettable cinematic crime boss. Savages lives up to its title because Hayek cultivates the untamed natural state with unnatural ease. Sánchez knows enough not to keep too high a profile on “most wanted” lists, but as a gangster, she should never be underestimated.

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[jadekitty777]

Where the Heart Is

*Looks at the 80% of entries so far being in some vain about that moment*

*Holds out her own overly cutesy entry* I-I can still join the party, right?

More seriously, I’ve been super stoked to get to this day! This entry is one my favorites, with tomorrow’s being my absolute favorite. I hope you all enjoy!!!

Day 5: Hurt/Comfort

Rating: K+

Pairing: Qrow/Clover

Word Count: 4.6k

Ao3 Link: Where the Heart Is

Summary: After facing off against Salem's hordes and managing to secure some of the relics in Vacuo, the team stops in Patch for some much needed rest and recuperation. It was meant to be relaxing. So, why was Clover more troubled than usual?

Qrow isn't sure, but he is determined to figure it out. With, maybe, a little bit of help from his family along the way. [Canon Divergent from V7C12]

A series of shouts snapped Qrow awake in an instant and he was already half out of bed with one hand around Harbinger before his sleepy brain caught up with his body and reminded him that he was home and safe. He settled back on the mattress with a groan, running a hand over bis face. A quick glance told him the space behind him was empty and from all the noise downstairs, he surmised he was probably the last one up.

Not that it bothered him much. He so rarely got to curl up under the ridiculously soft sheets and warmth of a real bed, especially his own, why wouldn’t he take the opportunity to lounge around in it for a few extra minutes? Or hours.

Still there was definitely no going back once something got him up, so he resigned himself to preparing for the morning.

By the time he was making his way downstairs, the game the kids were playing was in full swing. Yang and Nora were both standing on the coffee table, scrolls in hand and trading off insults as they tried to decimate the other’s character in Grimm Fighters 3. Ruby was cheering them on in the background. Removed from them, Penny was settled against the far wall, a charger plugged in the back of her bow, but she seemed intent on watching the proceeding battle from her corner.

As he hit the last step, the TV proudly proclaimed, “Fatality! Player 2 wins!” And Yang gave a yell of fury, dramatically falling to her knees while Nora started doing a jig and proclaiming how she was still queen.

“Isn’t this a little much for nine in the morning?” Qrow asked them once the victory shaming had ended.

Instead of an answer, he got a chirpy, “Morning Uncle Qrow!” from Ruby.

“Wanna join us?” Yang waved her scroll invitingly.

“Maybe after a dose of caffeine.” He left them to their own devices, slipping into the kitchen.

Despite the room’s smaller size, it was just as energetic and even more packed. Jaune was wrist deep in an argument with the juicer, while Ren was rolling out dough on the counter beside him. Tai was whipping eggs in a large bowl. Weiss was the only one going about her vegetable chopping task with a bit more slowness, concentrating hard as she tried to coordinate her hands into doing a task unfamiliar to them.

Acting as silent observers, Blake and Oscar were sipping on their respective drinks of tea and coffee. Or, he realized as Oz gave him a friendly nod, hot chocolate. “Good morning Qrow. I hope you slept well.”

“If he’s the last one up, that’s always a good sign.” Tai jabbed, instantly earning forgiveness when he added, “Tea and coffee’s made if you want any.”

He nodded his thanks, hiding a yawn as he carefully reached over Weiss to get a mug. It felt like a coffee day.

So close, he didn’t miss the whisper of, “Am I doing this right?” her tone having a note of frustration to it.

He glanced down at the potatoes she was trying to cube, none of them matching in size or width. Certainly wouldn’t win any of the many awards the Atlas Elite was accustomed too. “Looks good to me.” Her surprise reminded him of another thing she never had – easily won praise. “Maybe cut the bigger pieces in half so it’ll cook the same.”

She didn’t respond, maybe just not sure how to, but the shift to her knife told him she was taking his advice. Qrow left her to it, going across the kitchen to pour himself a cup. As he added the sugar, he finally asked, “Where’s Clover?”

“Patio, with Zwei.” Tai pointed his whisk in the direction of the open back door.

“Got it. Let us know when breakfast is ready.” He said, heading that way. The commotion starting up again from the living room followed after him.

Despite only a few days having passed since their arrival, it all felt exceedingly normal. It almost didn’t belong after all the senseless tragedy that had plagued them on their journey. Haven. Mantle. Atlas. When they finally secured a small victory in Vacuo, managing to seal two relics away, it seemed time to take a breather. To recuperate and plan their next step. What better place for that then home?

He’d like to say Patch had been mostly untouched by the calamity the rest of the world had been facing – but Signal’s provisional closure and the shrinking shelves in the grocery store told otherwise.

While no one in the general public understood why huntsmen-focused schools were being attacked, no respectable headmaster could justify continuing to place their youngest generation in danger until a more permanent solution to the massacres were devised. Likewise, supplies were becoming scare as less people felt safe to travel and even less eager to trade among kingdoms. With less to go around, it only increased more devastating problems – like crime, sickness and starvation. Which brought Grimm. And with fewer huntsmen and huntresses able to come to arms and the ones that were left being stretched beyond thin and past their limits…

Well, the new scars on Tai’s forearm was a precautionary warning about just how bad it was really getting.

If the new blemishes bothered his brother though, he certainly didn’t show it. Then again, he’d been on a permanent cloud nine since their return so it was hard to tell anything right now, but it sure was nice to see him smile so much. Just like it was nice to see the kids enjoying a bit of peace and quiet enough they felt okay to be rowdy and young again.

For once, Qrow also felt like he should take advantage of it all – to enjoy the little pleasures in life while he had them. He knew their break was temporary, maybe only a week or two more before they finally set out again. But right now, all he wanted to do was drink his coffee while snuggled in Clover’s arms.

As he stepped out onto the patio though, he came to the conclusion things might not go as planned.

Clover was seated on the porch swing, motionless beyond the idle hand petting down Zwei’s furry backside. His face was a troubling puzzle of drawn down eyebrows and a seldom-seen frown set in place. His eyes seemed to be far beyond the little grass field he was looking at and, so lost in thought, he didn’t notice Qrow at all until Zwei lifted his head.

If he’d been suspicious before, he knew without any doubt that something was wrong when the former soldier took one look at him and smiled way more widely than necessary and said with a voice full of false cheer, “Oh! Morning Qrow.”

He only did that when he was purposely trying to hide something from him.

“Hey.” He returned levelly. “Room for one more?”

Clover pat the space beside him. “Of course.”

He settled down in his spot, accepting the dog that flopped over both their laps. He propped his feet up onto the firewood rack, the movement rocking them a bit, and languidly sipped at his coffee as he tried to plan out his method of attack.

This was one of the more unfortunate things they shared in common. Neither of them had had an upbringing that encouraged them to get all ‘touchy-feely’ with their feelings, though their circumstances were widely different. In Qrow’s case his was all self-disciplined to deal with the pain of constant rejection whereas for Clover it was the Atlas academy that conditioned students like him into refusing ‘unwelcome’ emotions like sorrow or hurt.

It was one of the reasons he was never crazy about the military. It was like looking at a bunch of hims, and no one wanted to be like him.

“Been up long?” Qrow decided to test the waters carefully first.

“Lil’ before sunrise, I guess.”

So, first one to wake. It wouldn’t have been so terribly unusual for the early riser, if not for the fact they were still readjusting from their more night-based timeclock in Vacuo. The unforgiving desert heat had meant traveling in the dark kept their energy stores higher and their water supply more under control.

Still feigning casualness, he followed up with, “Well, until my ugly mug greeted you this morning, what’d you do?”

“I’ll have you know that I find your face quite lovely.” Clover chuckled, stretching an arm out across the back of the seat. “Honestly not much. Watched the news. I don’t recommend, it was all reruns.”

So, no distressing headlines they hadn’t already heard. That was good.

“Did some warm up exercises with Penny.”

Nothing too unusual there.

“Took a walk.”

That rose an alarm bell. “Alone?”

But he already knew the answer – Clover didn’t take walks. He sprinted. He jogged. Hell, if time allowed, he’d do a mini marathon. But he never walked. The only person in this household who did was-

“No, no. With Tai and Zwei. It was nice.”

Oh Brothers no. What thoughtless things did his best friend spout that had made Clover look like his whole world had suddenly flipped upside down? Did he tell him the skirt story? Please let it only be the skirt story.

“Okay look, whatever terrible things Tai said about me, they’re only half true.” Qrow defended.

“Uh, okay?” Clover only seemed confused. “Actually, we didn’t talk about you. Well – except for the typical ‘You hurt my brother I hurt you’ spiel but, I think I’m pretty used to that one by now.”

He turned away, hiding his embarrassment. “Oh.”

“Guess it was a missed opportunity.”

“Get that evil smile off your face.”

“You’re not even looking at me!”

Qrow looked. It was even eviler than he’d imagined. “Careful, you might give Salem a run for her money.”

Clover barked a laugh, abrupt enough to startle Zwei. His arm fell from the back of the bench to his shoulders, pulling him in just enough to drop a kiss on his temple. “Whatever you say babe.”  

No amount of self-control could prevent him from melting into that touch. Looks like he was getting that snuggling session in after all.

But, at the back of his mind, the question still nagged at him. If it wasn’t about him, then what had it been?

~

He didn’t get a chance to investigate further until a little after noon, when he got the chance to corner his brother-in-law in the shed.

“Sorry, but we didn’t really talk about much. I’m not sure what could have upset him.” Tai told him as he sorted through his gardening equipment.

Qrow sat across from him on one of the stools, leg bouncing impatiently against the footrest. “Are you sure?”

“Maybe I should be more offended here.” He waved a trowel at him. “What makes you so certain I caused the problem?”

“Because you’re you.”

“Oh, you’re right.” Tai placed a hand over his heart, tone full of theatrics, “I, as the better looking one among us, probably made him swoon and now he’s contemplating eloping with me.”

He threw a screwdriver at him. “Not. Funny.”

He grinned cheekily back, setting aside the tool he’d caught between his fingers. “Why don’t you just ask Clover what’s bothering him?”

“In the decades we’ve known each other, have I ever been able to be that direct about this kind of shit? Now, work with me here!” He shifted backward until his shoulders rested against the edge of the table. “Go over with me what you two talked about. Maybe I can figure it out from there.”

“Really not gonna let this go, are you?” He straightened up, stretching out his lower back. “I really meant it though, most of it was small talk. He asked me a lot of questions about Signal and what it was like to be a teacher. We thought up some ideas how to strengthen the Grimm defenses around Patch before we all leave.”

He tried to hold back his disappointment. “That’s it?”

“Yeah? I don’t know what else you’re looking for.” Qrow must have been doing a poor job, because Tai’s expression shifted to something more sympathetic. He wrung a hand through his dulling blond hair, trying to find an answer he didn’t have. “Uh, we talked about Misty Ridge for a bit?”

Qrow snorted. That certainly had been nothing more than idle chitchat. Misty Ridge was just a small mountain range that ran through the island, given its name from the near permanent mist that clung to the cliffs. He wouldn’t argue that they were beautiful to look at; he never failed to admire them from above whenever he went for a fly. Especially this time of year, when they were-

They were dusted in snow.

His eyes went wide as his brain finally made the connection.

“Figure it out?” Tai asked.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “He’s homesick.”

“Oh.”

Qrow fidgeted with a stray nail, spinning it around between his fingers. “All of us have been running from town to town for weeks now. We’ve barely had time to catch our breath, let alone our thoughts. I should have figured when we finally slowed down, something like this would happen.”

It was something he certainly had to contend with on the norm – but at least he had the peace of mind knowing his home would welcome him back. Not so much for the guy who was court martialed out of his position.

What must Clover be missing? The novelty shops he used visit? The sandwich place he brought Qrow to on their first date? The two-room apartment, with his clover-potted plants and paintings of the seas? Or maybe it was the things ingrained in his heart – like the routine of motions he was used to when he got ready for a day full of Huntsman missions and the people he used to spend it with.

His friend hummed, crossing his arms. “So, what are you gonna do about it?”

He shrugged, looking up at his friend. “What can I do? It’s not like I can stuff Atlas and Mantle in a travel bag and bring them here.”

“Very astute.” Tai remarked. “Now that you’ve ruled out the impossible, how about something smaller? Maybe make his favorite Atlesian dish? Or there might still be some wares from Mantle at the trader stalls in the market.”

“I’m not much of a cook. And he can’t exactly take a bunch of junk with us.” Qrow reminded.

He rolled his eyes. “Brothers, I hope Clover doesn’t think he’s dating a romantic.” He waved his hands outwards. “It’s not about him lugging it around, it’s just about creating a familiar space for him. Something he can look at and feel a little less out of sorts.”

Qrow tossed the idea around his head. Would Clover be touched by such a gesture? Or would it just put a bad taste in his mouth? Never mind that he didn’t even have half a clue what to get him if he could find anything.

Maybe he could just bring him up to the mountains? Or- wait! That was it!

“I got it! Come on.” He said, jumping up from his stool.

“Uh?!” Tai flailed as he was shoved towards the door. “You gonna tell me what it is first?”

“In a minute, we need the kids.”

~

The most accurate thing to say about the way Qrow’s life operated was that even his best laid plans never went perfect. That’s why he clung to the background as a spectator while everyone else did the task he’d set them out on, mostly limiting himself to occasionally running messages between the groups.

It was probably for the better anyways – he certainly didn’t have Weiss and Yang’s knack for detail or direction for something like this. Or their general enthusiasm.

“No, no!” The ice princess pointed at the tallest Maple in the center of the yard. “A few more on this tree Penny!”

“Ruby, bring the hose over here!” Yang called from the east side of the backyard, a shovel propped on her shoulder.

The request fell on deaf ears as, with a wicked cackle, Ruby aimed the nozzle at Oscar and blasted him in the back. His resounding screech could have caused an avalanche.

“Young lady!” Tai bellowed over the poor farmhand’s shouts, “If you can’t handle that hose responsibly, I’m taking it away from you.”

Her silver eyes glinted, pointed it his way now. “Just try it dad! I’ll get you next!”

As the war for the gardening tool got into full swing, Blake looked up at him from where she was tacking down the last of the fabric to the porch railing, her smile fond. “I believe that’s the sign for we’re ready.”

“Seems more like a sign to get started before they ruin the surprise.” Qrow replied, watching Oscar wrest the hose free while Tai threw his youngest up over his shoulder, ignoring Ruby’s shrieks and cries for her other teammates to avenge her. He stood from the bench, calling over the field, “I’m gonna go get Clover. So, chill everyone!” He shot a look at his eldest niece and brother-in-law when they both started cackling. “Clam it you two!”

“Go get him Uncle Qrow! We’ve got this!” Ruby encouraged.

Too bad he wasn’t sure if he was ready. The nagging worry that Clover may not like this at all continued to tangle around him like a buckthorn bush. It only sunk its thorns in deeper as he made his way inside and back into the living room area.

It seemed he’d come just in time, because Clover was just finishing up wiping the floor with Team JNR over their friendly round of Remnant: The Game.

“Ugh.” Jaune’s forehead thunked on the table top. “How do you always get the best trap cards?”

“Guess I’m just lucky.” Clover earned every bit of the scathing glare the younger team leader sent his way. “Wanna go again?”

“Might want to pause on that.” He intervened before anyone could speak up, striding forward. “Ruby’s looking for you three. She’s out back.”

Taking their obvious cue, the kids got to their feet, heading out with one last ‘We’ll get you next time!’ from Nora. Clover only chuckled at the baseless threat, beginning to pick up the game pieces.

Qrow collected some stray cards strewn along the floor, eyeing the placement of the board. “Controlling Atlas, huh?”

He shrugged, setting some of the tiny plastic soldiers back into the box. “What can I say? I know it best.”

“’Suppose you do.” He rubber-banded the rest of the stack together, choosing his next words carefully. “You’ve been thinking about Atlas a lot, haven’t you?”

“No more than usual.” He replied, tossing the dice in their little tray.

“Really?”

He wasn’t sure if it was his tone or just his insistence, but Clover suddenly paused, meeting his gaze, pushing that same unerring optimism to the forefront of his smile, “Hey now, what’s with the 4-1-1?”

If there had been a stenographer detailing every moment of Qrow’s life from the beginning to now, the record would show he was not in any way good at these things. So, when he finally explained himself, it sounded harsh even to his own ears. “Cut the act already. You looked miserable this morning.”

“Well, miserable’s not the word I would have used.” He turned away from him, focusing on folding up the game board instead. “Nostalgic, maybe.”

Yep, screwed that one up. He exhaled softly, wishing he could just borrow the other’s softhearted patience for the next five minutes. He rounded the table, taking residence in the spot beside him, tapping their knees together. “Sorry. I just know you have some heavy stuff on your mind and I don’t know how to ask about it without sounding like an insensitive jerk.”

Clover took his time to put the box top on before he responded. “No, it’s not you. Not really. I have been feeling pretty lost lately, but I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. Heh, guess I should have known better then to get something past Oz’s best spy.”

“Damn straight.” His chest swelled with pride. “I don’t get it though, why wouldn’t you want me to know?”

As rare as his frown, the other was suddenly hesitant as he ran a hand over the back of his head. “Because I didn’t want you to think I was regretting coming along with you.”

“I wouldn’t think that.”

He rose an eyebrow, and in a tone nearly identical to the one Qrow used on him, said, “Really?”

“I’ll – try not to think that.” He amended. “But I don’t want my stupid inhibitions to stop you from talking to me about stuff like this.”

“They’re not st-”

“Sshh, stop being my personal therapist for a sec and just listen.” Qrow placed his hand over one of Clover’s, taking a deep breath to calm his own nerves. Nothing to lose, right? “When we started to get to know each other, you saw right through all my bullshit almost immediately. It was – kind of annoying, actually. I’d been building up those walls my whole life and you just leapt right over them. Or, maybe you busted through ‘em with that hard head of yours.” He chuckled softly. “I didn’t know how to handle someone like you. What I really wasn’t expecting was that I’d grow to like it.”

The hand he was holding rotated, until their palms where touching instead, strong fingers squeezing his.

A smile tugged at his lips, the simple touch encouraging him to go on. It was funny. Eight months ago, he never imagined himself speaking like this, open and raw. “There are things I’ve been able to tell you that I’ve never even admitted to my own family before. It’s been so unbelievably freeing.” He rose his eyes, staring into deep teal. “But I don’t want this to be one-sided. What’s happening between us, it’s important to me. I know I’m not as good with this stuff as you, probably never will be, but I still want you to feel the same safety and ease I do.”

“Qrow…” Clover murmured, but words seemed to fail him. Instead he shifted towards him, enough so he could cup his jaw with his free hand and lean his body forward.

Qrow’s eyes slip closed as their lips touch, the lingering caress gentle yet searing. He could have stayed in that moment forever.

So, of course, his scroll buzzed and broke them apart.

He pulled it out, seeing a message from Tai.

What are you two doing? Making out?

Cheeky bastard.

He tapped back a response, reassuring him they were on their way. “I uh, heh, I got so caught up I kind of forgot I have a surprise for you.”

Clover’s face lit up immediately. It was rather cute. “What kind of surprise?”

“You’ll see.” He got to his feet, tugging him by their clasped hands.

It didn’t take more than that to convince his partner to his feet. He led him to the darkened kitchen, the shades drawn to keep the gift hidden just a little longer. As they came to stand in front of the door, he placed his hand on the knob, but didn’t turn it quite yet.

“I know there’s probably a lot you miss about Atlas and Mantle. Things I can’t really bring back.”  Qrow started, trying to cool his nerves. “But I wanted to try to give something to you, even if it’s just for today.”

He kept his eyes on him, even as he opened the door – meaning he didn’t miss a second of how Clover’s expression shifted from curiosity, to shock, to, finally, absolute wonderment as he took in the transformed backyard.

“SURPRISE!” Everyone shouted from their places around the winter wonderland they stood in.

With Penny, it hadn’t been quite as difficult to pull off as Qrow had feared it might. A few sheets of ice, and suddenly they had enough chill to make snow stick. Between boulder-sized ice chunks that the various blade-oriented fighters could shear into shavings and Tai’s old pressure nozzle that turned buckets of ice water into flakes, they soon had the majority of the yard covered – enough that they could shovel the snow into great big mounds. The overhang of the roof and all the nearby trees had real icicles hanging down. For the places they didn’t have time to reasonably cover, swathes of shimmery, white fabric were used instead, ribbons of it spiraled over the porch railing or along the still leafy tree-tops.

As they stepped out into the temporary, magical world, for the second time that day, Clover seemed a loss for words. “I… This is… How?”

“Do you like it? We worked all afternoon on it!” Ruby asked, perched onto one of the many snow mounds Yang had shoveled together.

Penny lifted a finger, adding methodically, “We followed all the exact specifications of a snow day for optimal fun.”

“It’s, incredible.” Clover said, grinning ear-to-ear. “You all didn’t have to do this for me.”

Weiss waved him off first. “Don’t be silly. Of course we did.”

“You’ve become a vital member of our team. If we can show our appreciation of that with such a gesture, then it’s our honor.” Ren surmised wisely.

“Yeah! Now get down here so we can kick your butt at a good ol’ fashioned snowball fight!” Yang pumped a fist in the air, the sentiment quickly echoed by Nora and Jaune.

Qrow smiled at the sound of his partner’s laughter, the mirth wiping away any doubts he’d had that this wasn’t the right call.

Blake glanced around. “Shouldn’t we make teams then?”

“Right! Teams of three!” Jaune called.

“Uh, maybe I’ll just sit this one out-” Oscar tried to back away.

“Nice try lil’ Ozcar!” Nora swept him into a chokehold. “Me, you and Ren are gonna take home the gold!”

“Qrow’s with me and Ruby!” Tai claimed.

“Yes!! You’re all going down!” Ruby cheered.

Yang threw her arms over Blake and Jaune’s shoulders, boasting right back, “Hah! Not when we’ve got Mr. Strategy!”

As everyone continued their false taunts, Qrow squeezed the hand he held one last time, before letting go and hopping over the railing to join his family.

“Hey wait! What about me?” Clover protested. “Don’t you want to be on a team with me?”

He turned around, smirking. “And miss the opportunity to bean you right in that perfect face of yours? No way.”

He looked mockingly hurt, which was quickly wiped away as Weiss announced “That’s fine.” She made her way over to Penny, the android practically beaming over being chosen. “He can be on ours. This is our element after all.”

Clover looked from them, back to Qrow, a smirk of his own growing as he made his way off the porch. “Well babe, you had your chance. Don’t regret it when we utterly thrash you.”

“We’ll see lucky charm. We’ll see.”

The battle lasted until the sun was going down, when the icicles had long ago dripped and fallen from their perches and the snow and ice underfoot was little more than slush and mud. They trekked inside, sitting around the roaring hearth and trading stories over a meal of soup and bread. As the night waned, one by one they started to turn in until only Qrow and Clover were left, lounging on the couch together while the embers faded in the fireplace. Head pillowed against the other’s clavicle, Qrow was content enough he started to drift.

On the edges of sleep a faint ‘I love you’ breathed over his hair.

As he slipped into his dreams, he smiled, because he realized that even if he could never truly give Clover back his old home, things would be alright.

They could create a new one together.