#if they do set these women up as endgames why do them dirty like that then

[colberine]

i’m really trying not to think much about the finale but still ugh

thoughts like how the bridge collapse takes up almost the whole ep, so there won’t be much time for other storylines, so what if in the end of the ep eddie meets up with marisol and buck with natalia

and that’s why the actresses are listed in the guest cast list, like they won’t be doing much bc there’s no time for that, but that way they’re still there and clearly showing that they’re moving with us to abc s7 era…

i mean it doesn’t make much sense to me, especially to parallel them to canon couples, but knowing 911 and KR…

anyways, in couch theory we trust !

[renaerys]

This is just for fun, but how do you compare Sakura and Ino characteristics and personalities in your writing? Do you ever found them to be overlapping or do you consider them to be opposite or both?

I think they're very different but complementary characters. These are my personal takes under the cut, since it's a bit long.

To preface, I base everything on the original Naruto manga. I don't read Boruto, don't care about it, don't want to know anything more about it beyond what I've been forced to absorb through cultural osmosis. My takes on Ino's and Sakura's characters are probably going to be different from others who do subscribe to Boruto.

Ino

Ino would have followed in Inoichi's footsteps to become the prime Yamanaka mind reader for Torture and Interrogation post-war. She'd be a top Sensor type, would have worked closely with people like Ibiki and Anko and Shikamaru, and become a high ranking member of Konoha's tactical division. Those interactions would influence and augment certain aspects of her personality and proclivities quite a lot, and they inform how I see her in a post-war world.

I talked a lot about Ino's personality in this post. Ino is someone who I see as the better "people person" between Sakura and her. Meaning, she's above average good at reading people and anticipating what they will do or how they'll react in certain situations. Crucially, she's the type of person who will also act on that information if the situation calls for it, such as to benefit herself, her social standing/reputation, her goals, etc. And in that same vein, whether it's these personality traits or straight up shinobi abilities, she's the type to set a goal and get it the fuck done no matter what (remember her badass moment in the 4th war when she telepathically connected to everyone? Queen shit.). The other post I linked goes into this a bit more, so I won't repeat it here.

I see her as someone who isn't afraid to use tactics like lying and manipulation and charms if they will benefit her endgame. She's cunning and crafty and suave, but she's not a malicious person. Rather, she's demonstrated a high capacity for empathy and compassion (the basis of her friendship with Sakura, to name the earliest example of that). But I think she is also the type who is willing and able to get her hands dirty, keep secrets, and condone tactics that other personality types (like Sakura) would deem going too far or would find reprehensible. Two things can be true at the same time, and they make her a really interesting and contradictory person. She's your bitchy BFF. She's the person who will dig too deep into something because she is a dog with a bone, and this makes her capable of hurting people, however unintentionally.

Which is why she really benefits from having a friend like Sakura who will check her on that.

Sakura

Sakura is very much what you see is what you get. She's not cunning or crafty or manipulative the way Ino is (she can be those things insomuch as any person can be those things, but I wouldn't call them defining or key traits like I would for a character like Ino). Sakura wears her emotions on her sleeve, is straightforward and to the point, and highly determined. Like Ino, her personality is complemented by and reflected in her abilities and fighting style. She is front line, in your face, honest and unsubtle and no bullshit. The opposite of Ino in many ways. I think Kishi made those choices purposefully (although, I always hesitate to give him too much credit considering his track record with women).

Sakura has protagonist-chan vibes, which makes sense considering that is who she is in the manga. She gets the underdog story, the smurfette "I can keep up with the boys and I'll prove it to you" story, and that makes her relatable to literally anyone who grew up with insecurities and worked to overcome them. (Crucially, Ino doesn't have that arc because she never had those same insecurities or competition with her boys.)

All of this makes Sakura a lot less complicated and more vanilla than Ino. I don't mean that in a bad way at all, I just mean that given her standing in the manga as a deuteragonist, she is THE female character and therefore much easier for people to project themselves on to. That's why there are so many more fics and fanworks centering her than Ino. Sakura is hashtag relatable to so many people, and that's her main appeal and why she's so successful as a female character. But, unlike a lot of cardboard female protagonists in other media, she's able to be those things and have a distinct personality and unique traits, and I really like that about her! Ino is a harder pill to swallow because her personality is messier, rougher, more jagged than Sakura's. Again, none of this is bad! It's just the way a lot of archetypes go. Think about any of your favorite media. The relatable "everyman" protagonist female character usually has a "sassy best friend" type who doesn't share her insecurities and, instead, acts as a cheerleader to help her move past them. That's how Sakura and Ino are set up in the manga. It's a very traditional and oft-used archetype, which doesn't make it bad. It just is.

That archetype dynamic makes them great together, which is kind of the whole point of characterizing them in that way. Ino is often the sassy BFF in fics about Sakura, but I really love to see Sakura has her very important BFF in Ino fics too. I think it's an underutilized dynamic (just purely from a statistical standpoint since there are exponentially more Sakura fics than Ino fics). But if we consider that they are best friends, it stands to reason that they have a lot in common too. You can't tell me Sakura is best friends with someone like Ino and is just vanilla protagonist-chan a la Hallmark rom coms. Nah, that girl is some bless-this-mess chaos. Her bull in a china shop tendencies make her such a great complement to Ino. Sakura can be hilarious, chaotic, and weird and keep up with Ino's sharp wit and unapologetic judgment. They're like a comedic duo where one of them is the "straight man" and the other is clown shoes, but the fun twist is those roles are seamlessly interchangeable between them. I write them this way in my fic The Heiress and the Hierophant.

Sakura and Ino both are fantastic characters with plenty of room to build upon their canon foundations if you put in some work. I do wish more people would give Ino a fair shake as main and let Sakura live that fun BFF life. She's excellent as the BFF. And I haven't even touched on the excellent InoSaku romantic dynamics that exist! There's so much there between them, and all of it is good.

[evansblues]

I have a question. Remember the dirty story with the university student back in Jenny's time. This girl also broke up with her boyfriend because of the situation with Chris. What happened between them, or was there at all?//

No such story I can remember from Jenny's time. But a girl did break up with her boyfriend to chase Chris. She's the reason why the dumb D.C Intern rumors are still alive. When Chris and Mark Kassen were in D.C to interview politicians they took photos and videos with others in the office including interns. Once such intern, her name is Bella, asked Chris to do a small video message for her friend and took a picture with him. The picture was erm....a bit much imo. This is where I think Chris lacks boundaries, I get she's a fan but you are in a professional setting, why would you let an intern take a photo where she has her hands on your stomach/abs? I get it at conventions. Anyways then what happened is still murky, because we don't know exact details but Mark threw a party or invited people to this strip club/burlesque club. Idk if the interns were invited or they followed them there. Pictures were taken with the dancers and as per them and others Chris had left the place afterwards. Bella and also the dancers posted pictures and they commented stuff that made it seem like something may have been going on between Chris and Bella. This all happens in Jan(2019) and then in March Bella posts from her IG about being in Boston. Funny thing is Chris wasn't even in MA at that time, he was busy gearing up for Endgame promos. I don't remember the exact details but comments on IG revealed that she broke up with her bf, bf may have alluded to something about Chris. In the end Bella gave up her mission and last in 2020 her IG showed that she got back with that bf and they have a kid together now. So yeah, it was just some young n dumb clout chaser behaviour.

Thanks you for that detailed retelling. She put her hand on his stomach? It angers me when other women, who know what it’s like to be creeped on, touch men in ways that would be over the line if it were another woman. Don’t put your hand on someone else’s stomach. That’s overly familiar and you wouldn’t think it was ok if someone did it to you. You’re right, he needs better boundaries.

[unwrittenlibrary]

magnetic force of a man

summary // loving him in the summer is warmth and radiance.

or; three summers showcasing the growth of your relationship with bucky. [bucky barnes x fem!reader]

words // 4.5k

warnings // post-endgame bucky & softness & kind of corny

notes // inspired by taylor swift’s lover. somehow this just came out, i’m not sure how i feel about it.

my writing is free and it will stay free, but if you enjoy it and you have the resources, consider donating to my ko-fi!

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

| Summer of 2025 |

You meet Bucky at the Farmer’s Market in June when you both reach for a red delicious apple. It’s awkward laughs and friendly introductions.

You’ve heard of him before; Janet who runs the apple stand talks about him and how perfect of a match you would be. Unbeknownst to you, Eugene who runs the plum stand, says the same thing to him.

“You’re the man Janet won’t shut up about.” You smile sweetly. Your eyes scan his small basket of fruits and vegetables. He’s got a lot of different things. He must cook, you think. “I’ve been told I would like you.”

Bucky laughs. His eyes scan your basket too, you wonder what he thinks of all your choices. “You must be the woman Eugene won’t stop talking about.” He leans towards you and in a mischievous tone whispers, “I think they’ve been trying to set us up.”

It makes you laugh. “You’ve got a beautiful laugh.” Bucky compliments. His smile is genuine and he’s got blue eyes that are filled with kindness. You can see why Janet had been trying for so long to get you to meet him.

“Thank you.” You step towards him when another man rushes past you. “I have to ask, what have you heard?”

Bucky shrugs. “Just that you’re beautiful and you make the best apple pie Eugene’s ever tasted.” Bucky leans towards you again. “So far, he’s spot on.” The implication makes heat rise to your cheeks and you smile down at your basket.

“Guess I’ll have to make you some pie so you can see if he’s two for two.” You look back up with a teasing smile. Bucky’s eyes light up in excitement.

He shakes his head in amusement. “I hope I’m not being too forward, can I have you number?” You’re already pulling your phone out of your pocket to hand over.

That’s the beginning of your story.

˚《

Your first date is the last week of June. After weeks of texting and even some phone calls, Bucky had finally asked you out.

He takes you to a drive in up in Warwick and you park in the middle row of the second screen to watch Grease. The sun is still out when you arrive, so there’s some time to get snacks and settle in.

“Did you know it was throwbacks weekend?” You ask as Bucky flips through his radio stations in search of the correct one.

He shakes his head. You can see his fingers shaking a little nervously as he looks up at you. “Is Grease okay? I’ve uh, I’ve never seen it. It looked cute.” He grimaces and it makes you smile.

“I love Grease.” You say softly, reaching your hand out for his. “Are you nervous?”

Bucky laughs awkwardly. “Am I that obvious?” Your eyes trail over his gloved hands, his left hand resting on his thigh as you hold his right.

“I think it’s sweet.” You reassure him. “You must be hot in these. It’s June.” You flip his hand so it’s palm up and trace your finger over it.

“I haven’t done this in awhile.” He admits. There’s a red tint to his cheeks, one that’s not from the summer heat, and it makes you giggle. He eyes meet yours and he smiles tensely. “I’m uh- I-“

“You don’t have to say it.” You pull the glove off hastily so his flesh hand is revealed to you. “I know who you are. You can keep them on if you want, but you don’t need to.” You place the glove back in his palm and wrap his fingers around it.

Bucky watches you for a moment. “You know who I am and still want to go one a date with me?” You frown at his self-depreciating tone.

“I know who you used to be. I don’t know you though. The real Bucky Barnes. That’s why I want to go on this date with you.” The radio begins reciting rules of the drive-in and you look at the screen. The sun is setting behind it quickly.

When you turn to look at Bucky again, he has a grin on his face as he watches you. “Come on! Let’s get snacks before the movie starts.” You turn to push open the car door and Bucky follows after you easily.

You don’t know it yet, but that’s the beginning of your pull over him. Bucky thinks he would follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked him to.

˚《

Your first kiss is two weeks later after watching a movie in central park. It was Dirty Dancing this time. You’ve been on five dates.

You’ve learned that Bucky likes going to these throwback playings and experiencing the movies he missed while under Hydra’s control. You’re happy to indulge him, truly.

You just wish he would do more than hold you hand. Which, okay, maybe that isn’t fair. Sometimes he’ll wrap an arm around your shoulder and you’ll lean your head against his chest. He’ll even give you a kiss on the cheek goodnight, but he still won’t kiss you on the lips and you’re starting to think he just doesn’t want to.

One date? Okay, he wants to be respectful and not move too fast. Two dates? A little weird, but he was from a different time. Three? Did they just not kiss back then? You can’t imagine a charming Bucky Barnes who didn’t steal a kiss from a pretty girl. Four had you on the edge of your seat waiting for the kiss that didn’t happen.

Now, as Bucky walks you home, you think of all the ways you can bring it up. You even think of just kissing him yourself, it was the twenty-first century and women can make the first move.

Except, you can’t help but think, what if he doesn’t want to kiss me?

“You alright?” Bucky’s hand gripping your elbow gently forces you out of your head. You look up at him with wide eyes and nod a little too hastily. “You sure? You’ve been silent for like, fifteen minutes.”

His eyes are concerned pools of blue as he stares down at you. The words just come tumbling out of your mouth, “Why don’t you want to kiss me?”

Bucky just stares at you in shock. You feel heat on the back of your neck and shift in uncomfortable embarrassment at your outburst. “I’m sorry!” You blurt out. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just want you to kiss me and if you don’t want to that’s fine!” You suck in a deep breath. Bucky is still watching you silently, so you continue on. “I would just rather know now if you don’t want to kiss me instead of finding out later.”

You finish quietly with Bucky still watching you. If you weren’t so panicked, you would probably recognize his look as him digesting the words. But the panicked feeling mixes with the sting of rejection and you begin to back away. “Well this was great. Hope to never-“

Bucky’s hand wraps your waist and he hauls you back into him. His lips meet yours harshly, but it’s not painful in any way. It’s somehow gentle and his lips are soft against yours. Your eyes close and one of your hands comes up to rest on his cheek while his hands hold steady onto your waist.

When you pull away it’s with a gasp of air. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since that day in the Farmer’s Market.” Bucky admits breathlessly.

“So why’d you never kiss me?” You ask curiously. Cars speed past you on the street and there’s a group of teenagers who all gag as they pass you, but none of it matters with Bucky in your arms like this.

Bucky smiles. “I told you. I haven’t done this in a long time.”

˚《

By August, you and Bucky are going steady. You go to the market together most weekends and Bucky calls you his girl to the people you’ve both become regulars of.

He’s even talked about introducing you to his friends and going out together one night when they’re all free.

It makes your heart race and your fingers twitch with excited nerves. You think you love him, which seems crazy when you think of how you’ve only been seeing each other since June, but you do.

Thinking of him makes your heart beat faster and your face warm. You want to spend as much time as can with him and hang onto every word he says.

It seems like he feels the same way too, but you’re just not sure. Fall is right around the corner though. That means schedules pick up again and the weather gets colder, so you’d like to know if Bucky feels the same way or if this was just a way to pass the time in the summer.

You just don’t know how to say it though. Every time you think of saying the words your nerves get the best of you and you blurt out something he finds endearingly awkward and doesn’t think anything of.

“I still can’t believe a show like this exists.” Bucky murmurs in awe from beside you on his couch. You’re not really pay attention to the random reality show you’ve put on though. You’re focused on the way his eyes shine curiously and how he smiles whenever the host makes a shitty joke.

Your feet are settled in his lap and he pinches your shin when he turns to look at you. “You’re not even watching the show.”

“I love you.” You blurt. That’s one way to do it, you think. You were afraid you would regret the words when you said them or even feel embarrassed, but you don’t. All you feel is lighter, like you’ve created a better world by letting Bucky know somebody loves him, even if he doesn’t feel the same. “I don’t know if you wanted this to be summer fling or-“

“Summer fling?” Bucky laughs. His hand moves up your leg. “I’m not going around calling you my girl to everyone who’ll listen because you’re some fling.”

The words make you laugh. “I love that laugh.” Bucky admits quietly. When your eyes meet his again, he smiles sweetly. “I love you too.”

When he leans towards you for a kiss, you meet him halfway happily.

| Summer 2026 |

Being with Bucky has made you far more confident in yourself. His reassurance and constant support pushed you to be better and you knew he felt the same, so you figured moving in with him was the next step.

You had the perfect plan on how to ask him too. You had recruited Sam, who had taken a liking to you immediately, and gotten an extra key to your apartment cut with the word home engraved onto it.

While you spent the day getting the key cut and making room for Bucky’s things in your space, Sam spent the day distracting him. By the time you hear Bucky knock on your door, you’re about to burst with excitement.

You smooth down the front of you skirt and suck in a deep breath. “Hey!” Bucky’s eyes trail over you in surprise.

“Hey. Did I forget a date?” He looks up nervously, but his shoulders relax when you shake your head with a bright smile. “What’s this then? Not that I don’t love you in this skirt.” His hands find your hips and trail up your sides.

You pull his hands off and pull him inside the apartment. “I have a surprise for you!” He follows you into the kitchen easily and you pull out the small box containing the key.

You rock back and forth on your heels excitedly as Bucky begins to slowly unwrap the box. He watches, completely bemused by your excitement, and moves even slower to tease you.

“Stop!” You laugh and he shakes his head before tearing the rest of the paper off. He inspects the box slowly before opening it.

When his eyes land on the key, he doesn’t say anything and your smile drops. You watch as he stares and your excitement diminishes by the millisecond.

“Do you… Do you not like it?” You ask, unable to handle the silence. Bucky swallows thickly before looking up at you. Your heart drops as the burn of his rejection settles beneath your skin. “You don’t.” It’s not a question.

He reaches for you, but you step out of his grasp. “It’s not that I don’t like it, I just… I’m…” He doesn’t know what to say or how to actually say no to you. It’s obvious.

“You mentioned your lease was up soon and that you didn’t want to resign. I thought…” You trail off. You feel like you can’t breathe. You and Bucky were so good together, this seemed like the logical next step.

Had you read everything wrong? “I meant… I was looking at places closer to you.” Bucky says like it’s supposed to make you feel better.

“But you don’t want to live with me?” Your back hits the counter and you flinch at the harsh feeling. Bucky raises a hand, as if to comfort you, but drops it at the last second. “I don’t… Understand? I guess?”

Bucky runs a hand over his face. “I’m just not ready to live together yet, sweets.” He says softly. His face is grimaced as if the words pain him.

Join the club, you think. “Can I ask why? It seems like the next step, you know? We’ve been together for a year. I figured we’d move in together, start talking about marriage. Our future.”

Bucky’s eyes flash to yours. You hadn’t even thought it was possible, but it feels like your heart drops even further. “Do you not want to get married?” You ask slowly.

“I don’t know.” Bucky answers hesitantly. “I never planned a life. I never thought I’d get all this.”

You know he’s trying to make you feel better about the situation, but his words only hurt you more. “So being with me hasn’t made you think about your future at all?” You question. You think those words are what breaks you. The tears come rushing to your eyes and your face is hot with a mixture of anger and hurt.

“That’s not what I meant.” Bucky’s getting upset too. He’s clenching and unclenching his fists, something you’ve learned he does when he’s stressed. “I just meant I’m not sure what I want.” A beat of silence. “Shit. I mean-“ He groans in frustration and you sigh.

“I know I want you. A future with you.” You say quietly. You move to the close the box, key still inside, before shoving it into one of your kitchen drawers. “So, I think you should figure it out. What you want. So I know whether or not I should move on.”

Bucky watches you with tears brimming his own eyes. “Sweets-“

“I think you should go home, Buck.” You cut him off in a gentle tone. “Think for a few days.” You begin to move towards your hallway, ready to fall into your bed.

“Like… Like a break?” He asks tightly making you pause. You look at him over your shoulder and shrug.

“If that’s what you want to call it. I think you just need some time to figure out what you want for yourself. If it’s not me, that’s okay, but you should know.” You look back down your hallway. “I deserve to know too.”

You wait until you hear your front door slam shut to fall into your bed. When you notice Bucky’s shirt draped over your vanity chair, the tears come.

Not how you imagined your summer starting.

˚《

The month of June goes by, blossoming into July and Bucky doesn’t reach out. You’re heartbroken over it. Though that doesn’t sound like the right term because it really feels like your heart has been torn from your chest, but there wasn’t really a word for that.

You know you were the one who had suggested the break, but you figured he would have cared for you enough to give you a formal break up. Had you really ever known Bucky? What had gone wrong?

“You weren’t with Bucky yesterday!” Janet gushes when you stop in front of her booth. Your heart cracks at his name. “He always has such sweet things to say about you! Why don’t you two come together anymore? Your work schedules mess you up?”

Your eyes flash to her in confusion. Had Bucky not told her? “Janet… We broke up.” You say quietly. You’ve mastered the art of sounding cold when explaining to your friends and neighbors Bucky wouldn’t be coming around anymore.

She shakes her head like you’re not telling her the truth. “He was just talking about how he was trying to learn his mama’s famous peach cobbler recipe to make for you.”

“Must be another girl.” You say in a heated tone. “I haven’t spoken to him in weeks.”

She frowns. “He said your name, darling. That I’m sure of. Called you his girl and everything, just like he always does.” She explains softly.

“He’s delusional then.” You hiss. You stomp away from her cart. You’ll apologize to her next week, but for now, Bucky has somehow managed to ruin your day.

˚《

There’s a knock on your door that night. Your heart almost stops when you recognize the pattern that Bucky always led with.

When you check the peephole and confirm it’s him you almost don’t open the door, until you notice the tin-foiled dish in his hands.

“What are you doing here?” You ask harshly before he can say a word to you. You lean against your door jam, effectively blocking him from setting foot into your apartment. “And what is that?”

“A poor attempt at peach cobbler.” Your pulse quickens. “And I’m here to apologize.” When you look up and see the sincerity in his eyes, you sigh.

“Come in.” You step aside and he smiles gratefully as he steps past you. He places the dish on your counter and turns to face you nervously.

You stand still across from him. You had never thought you would feel this awkward around Bucky. “I’m sorry for… for hurting you that night.” He starts off quietly. “And for not reaching out, but you were right, I did need to figure my shit out.”

“You could have told me that.” You say softly. “Hey, you’re right! Let’s take a break and figure stuff out. Going ghost on me? That broke my heart, Buck.” You cross your arms over your chest like they’re a shield.

“I know.” Bucky says in the same apologetic tone. “I just… I was embarrassed because I made a fool of myself. Because I wanted to say yes. You have no idea how badly I wanted to say yes, but I was too scared to.”

You shake your head. “Scared of what? It’s me, Buck. I love you. You know I love you.” You hadn’t imagined having this conversation with him and you can’t keep the emotion out of you voice.

“What if you see parts of me living together that you don’t see now that make you not want me?” His tone is resembling that of a broken man, one you’ve only heard stories of.

The Bucky Barnes you know is healing. He’s charming, soft and intimidating but full of life and happiness. Not this. It breaks your heart and against your better judgement, you reach out to cup his cheeks in your hands. “There isn’t a part of you I won’t love, Bucky.”

“I still get nightmares. So bad I wake up screaming and unable to breathe.” He says softly. “It takes forever to get out of them.”

“I’ll hold your hand and help you through them.” You say without hesitation. “Bucky. The point of a relationship is to grow together. I want to do that with you, do you want to do that with me?”

His hands reach up to grip yours. You almost sigh in relief at the feeling of his hands in yours after weeks without it. “I do.” He says steadily. “Can we… Can we not be on a break anymore? I miss you.” He admits quietly.

A part of you thinks you should pull back. He had hurt you and you were still upset. But another, larger part of you, missed him more than he had hurt you.

“Yeah.” You say after a moment. “No more break.” You pull him towards you. He meets you readily in a kiss.

˚《

By the end of August, Bucky’s got a drawer full of things in your bedroom and his books have started to overcrowd your coffee table.

You communicate better. He shares more about his nightmares with you. He talks about the future he sees with you, one with a family and dogs in the backyard of the house he hopes to build.

You’re still nervous to bring up moving in together again. In the end it doesn’t matter though, because Bucky is the one who brings it up.

“Can we…” He starts nervously one night as the two of you eat dinner. “Would you want to talk about moving in together again?”

You look up at him a little shocked by the question. “What do you mean?” You shake your head. You know what he means. “Do you?” You ask quickly.

He nods slowly. You can see his nervousness in his tense jaw and clenching and unclenching fists. “I would like to move in together.” He’s talking kind of robotically, like he’s been practicing the words so they came out perfectly.

It’s sweet, you think. The gesture makes you laugh softly. “I would like to move in together too.” You reach across the table and wrap a hand around Bucky’s wrist.

His shoulders drop and you move to unclench his fist. “Yeah? You would?” He asks, less robotic in tone and more excited.

“Yeah.” You nod in confirmation. Bucky gives you a bright smile that’s impossible to not return.

Come fall, Bucky’s given up his apartment and has got an entire bookshelf taking up room in yours.

| Summer 2027 |

It’s July again and Bucky wants to propose.

Over two years together and the Farmer’s Market feels like the perfect place to do it. It’s where you had met and had become a daily part of your guy’s routine.

The only issue is, he’s pretty sure you’re thinking the same thing. Not that you’re onto him, that you want to propose too.

And, okay, Bucky is all for what women have accomplished in the almost century he’s been alive, truly. But proposing is his thing, it just is.

You had been the first person the say I love you. You had been the one to originally ask him to move in together. He wanted nothing more than to be the one down on one knee with his mother’s ring that he had begged and begged some museum curator to give up.

Which ultimately means, he has to beat you to it. So his plans are a little rushed. He had originally wanted to do it at the end of summer, when fall was rounding the corner and leaves were turning brown, but July would work.

July was when you had gone on some of your first dates and was when you had shared your first kiss. July was meaningful and July would work.

“Are you okay?” You ask as you absentmindedly run your fingers over the apples in front of you. Bucky’s eyes shoot up to look at Janet behind the stand, who smiles at him knowingly. You turn to look at Bucky with raised eyebrows. “You’ve been fidgety all day.”

Bucky lets out a fake cough. “I just feel a little off.” He lies. It’s a poor lie and it makes your lips quark up at the corner.

“Want to go home?” You ask, already stepping away from the apple stand. “We ca-“

“No!” Bucky’s hands grip your shoulders and he forces your to stop. You smile at him in question and Bucky quickly drops his hands back to his side. “I mean, no. Probably just allergies.”

“Uh-huh.” You say in obvious disbelief. “The super soldier suddenly has allergies.”

Bucky sighs in defeat. “You know, don’t you?” He asks and you laugh softly. Your hand finds his and you interlock your fingers together.

“Only because you left the ring on the counter last night and I saw it when I went to get water.” You say apologetically. Bucky drops his head so his forehead rests against your shoulder and lets out a groan.

You press a kiss to his temple before nudging him away. “Ask me.” You urge softly. Bucky wants to say no, that he wants to do it right, but this seems almost fitting.

You were what pushed him to be better, so maybe it made sense for you to be the one who pushed him in this too. He wasn’t sure he would even be able to without it, honestly.

He sucks in a deep breath before dropping to one knee in front of you. There are gasps of people passing by, but Bucky keeps his eyes on you as he pulls out the ring. Resized and cleaned, ready for your finger.

“I have a speech so just, bear with me. Okay?” A smile spreads across your face as you nod. “This is the third summer I’ve spent completely in love with you. I didn’t know I could feel this way about someone. Sometimes I’m still shocked that you wake up everyday and choose to be with me. But I promise I don’t take it for granted. Not for one second because I love you so much and I wake up every morning ready to show you forever. And I… I um.” Bucky swallows. “I had more planned, but I’m so nervous and I just want to ask you already.”

“Ask me.” You whisper with a bright smile. A group has gathered around you two by now, everyone murmuring in excitement but you and Bucky can only stare at each other.

“Will you marry me?” Bucky asks softly. He can see his hand shaking as he holds out the ring to you even though there’s no doubt in his mind that you’ll say yes. “Please?” He tacks on for good measure.

You nod quickly, holding your left hand out to him. “Yes. Yes. Of course!” You cheer. Once he has slipped the the ring onto your finger, you pull him up by the collar of his shirt.

You kiss him without a care in the world. Bucky’s hand comes up to rest on the back of your neck as excited cheers resound from all around you two.

When you pull away you’re smiling brighter than he’s ever seen. Bucky can’t do anything but return it.

His eyes move around the crowd and find Eugene, the man who runs the plum stand. He smiles kindly at Bucky and mouths I told you so. Bucky laughs to himself before pressing a kiss to your head.

This Farmer’s Market was probably the best decision Bucky had ever made.

It had brought him you.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

notes // what did i say about soft!bucky? that he was all i knew how to write!!

reblogs and replies are always appreciated, especially if you read and enjoyed this piece!

[notallthosewho-wanderarelost]

I keep seeing very salty posts that are like “what’s the point of a Black Widow movie now that we know she dies in Endgame” or complaining that the movie is an attempt to replace with Natasha with a younger, hotter model in Yelena, or saying that it’s basically beating a dead horse for the money and I just. The point is that it’s a Black Widow movie. The point is that it’s exploring Natasha’s character on her own, putting her in the spotlight and diving into her psyche and her character and her story, instead of putting her in a secondary role next to someone else. Do you also complain about the existence of the Star Wars prequels because you already know Anakin becomes Darth Vader and dies 23 years later? Because if not then that’s a bit of a double standard.

Yes it’s late, and yes it totally sucks that it only happened after she died stupidly in Endgame, and that we’re not going to get more of this for a very long time if ever, but that doesn’t change the fact that the movie is actually phenomenal. Maybe watch the movie before you complain about problems that it doesn’t have.

And that also goes for people preemptively saying that it sexualizes all the female characters. It absolutely does not. You can even see that in the posters and trailers if you actually bother to look at them instead of just assuming the worst because that’s what you’re used to. I’m not going to go into specific details here because I don’t want to spoil anything for people who haven’t seen it, but you can absolutely tell this movie was made by women. There’s a thing about a certain piece of clothing having pockets. All the women have their hair pulled back when going into fights. This movie takes Whedon’s “Natasha is a monster because she can’t have children” and turns that on its head in such a great way that tells us something about the characters and their trauma and is a hilarious scene to boot. Actually, it’s multiple scenes and they’re both great.

Yelena is not being set up as a “younger, hotter, better version of Natasha” or whatever. (Though ironically that IS explicitly her goal in her early comic appearances, and it makes her a really interesting foil to Natasha.) She’s her own character. She has a great arc and she’s an amazing character, but this movie is about Natasha. You can’t talk about Yelena as a character in this movie and therefore in the wider MCU without talking about Natasha and their relationship and how it impacts her, because it’s Natasha’s movie.

Lastly, because this post was made in response to a specific post I just saw on my dash that was just the last straw for me but I didn’t want to respond directly to because I don’t feel like wading into that drama, can we please stop equating actors with the characters they play? If you don’t like Scarlett Johansson that’s fine, but don’t slam Natasha because of who plays her. And the same for Jeremy Renner and Clint. Also, stop blaming Clint for Natasha’s death. He wanted to sacrifice himself for Nat too; he didn’t think her life was less valuable than his just because he had a wife and kids. Blame the writers and directors of Endgame for Natasha’s crummy death and all its implications, not her best friend who she loved and sacrificed herself for. It’s M&M and the Russos who did Natasha dirty, not Clint.

PS: I hate to tell you this, but if you thought Natasha’s braid in Endgame was ugly, you might want to know ahead of time that everyone in Black Widow wears braids. There are so many braids. Braids are good and there was nothing wrong with Nat’s Endgame braid or with any of the braided hairstyles in Black Widow. You’re fully welcome to your opinion on braids, but I’m not sure why Nat’s braid is being dragged into the way Endgame mistreated her.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

definitive VERY SERIOUS ranking of MCU characters, best to trash

Gamora and Nebula - tied for first place because prickly, traumatized assassin women? that’s my shit. prickly, traumatized assassin women working through their issues TOGETHER and growing closer as sisters? YEAH, babey! that’s the shit! I love them and they deserved arcs that loved them, too. biggest injustice in the MCU.

Thor - absolutely excellent. amazing work. distinguished slut vibes and a radiant beam on sunshine in this shithole world. again, never saw Endgame, but he deserved better.

Sam Wilson - going strong since 2014, babey. just an all-around great guy, good for him finally getting his own show. will I be watching it? absolutely not. not a force on god’s green earth could make me care enough to pirate a marvel television show in this the year of our lord and savior 2020, even if he is a very cool dude with wings. 

Bucky Barnes - all the fun of Steve but no moral quandaries because everything bad that he did happened when he was being controlled by nazis and he feels really bad about it uwu

Peter Parker - yes OBVIOUSLY the movies did Peter dirty, we’ve all seen a fucking essay about it, making him Iron Man Jr was wack and being poor doesn’t look like that, but he’s cute and fun and I like Tom Holland, who was the emotional anchor who forced me to keep giving a sliver of a shit during Infinity War. Far From Home was pretty not good but would I see another Spider-Man movie? fuck, maybe.

Steve Rogers - idk I just think he’s neat. really love how he’s shaped like a dorito and hates nazis.

James Rhodes - I don’t think Rhodey’s ever said or done anything that wasn’t iconic and for that he deserves to be exactly one spot above his idiot best friend.

Tony Stark - I hold possibly the most unpopular opinion on Tony Stark on this entire hellsite, which is that he’s just fine. he’s fun sometimes, he’s irritating sometimes, he made some points during Civil War. he should probably lose more points for being a former war profiteer but if I started digging into comic book logic too much I’d have to change my url because Batman cooperates with cops and endangers children, so idk.

T’Challa - I don’t remember a TON about T’Challa’s actual personality because it’s been like 4 years since Black Panther came out and he had like 2 lines in Infinity War, but he’s a powerful nerd/jock multiclasser who spends most of his time surrounded by women who are very smart and dangerous and much cooler than him and I really respect that.

Natasha Romanoff - Natasha is difficult to rank because for a long time her dominant defining characteristic was being The Girl One, which means she has a different personality in pretty much every movie, and it was never interesting. if Marvel had rubbed two brain cells together and given her a solo movie between 2012 and 2015 she might have fared better, but alas. press F in the chat for Nat’s potential.

Groot, Rocket, Drax, Mantis - I love these funky socially incompetent aliens. more of them, please.

Bruce Banner - only interesting in Ragnarok when he’s Thor’s anxious comedic foil and boyfriend; thank you for that small gift, Taika. I never saw Endgame because I love myself, so I don’t know anything about professor Hulk and I don’t want to.

Peter Quill - fun in theory but loses points for being such a painful walking embodiment of the extremely heterosexual “idiot manchild gets hot competent gf by virtue of being white cishet protagonist man.” shut the fuck up she’s way too good for him.

Wanda Maximoff - despite all of Joss Whedon’s best efforts I really liked her in Age of Ultron and then my love for her just decreased with each subsequent appearance. like Natasha she was increasingly a different character each time; by Infinity War she didn’t have her accent anymore as if Elizabeth Olsen realized nobody else on set would remember or care about Wanda’s previous portrayals. on god I liked her so much that I was even down to root for her and Vision but then the majority of it happened offscreen and lost me forever. 

Pietro Maximoff - mmm watcha saaaaaay

Hope Van Dyne - cooler than Ant-Man but not by much. should have been a lesbian and kissed Pepper Potts in the moonlight. 

Carol Danvers - fuck dude idk, I’ve never seen a movie she’s in lmao

Ant-Man - the recurring joke with this bitch seems to be “haha can you believe he exists? that’s dumb!” and it is. it is dumb. why did we need him? it could have all payed off with him crawling up Thanos’ asshole and exploding but we didn’t even get that. bullshit. 

Vision - man, fuck, I tried to put him higher on the list than Peter Quill and I couldn’t make myself do it. that’s how goddamn boring Vision was. and you know what? fuck it, we’re putting him lower than Pietro, too. and even Ant-Man! we’re scraping the bottom of the barrel here and he deserves it because I can’t think of one thing this dude did that I enjoyed other than being bad at cooking when he was trying to impress a girl.

Doctor Strange - I’m not going to make a Benedict Cumberbatch joke because that’s low hanging fruit but all I know is that this is the dude who’s mean to Tony in a horny way for five minutes of Infinity War. I never saw his movie, heard it was racist tho. and they didn’t even learn their lesson before they made Iron Fist! smh bombastic colonialism.

Clint Barton - last place because in the absence of a personality or interesting character arc I’m forced to judge him on the fact that Jeremy Renner radiates bad vibes and that in Endgame he gets a makeover that makes him look like he’d call me slurs for telling him to stop hitting on 16 year old girls at a gas station.

[sxveme-2]

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Eight: The One With the Party

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3083

   Now, nothing in Lily's life ever really came easy, quick, or without some sort of repercussion. It was as though the universe had decided that she hadn't been through enough in her fairly young life already. Hence why it didn't surprise her when the communication between her and Bucky fell off, or more so, never really started. The day at the cafe had been nice, they didn't exactly speak and they were at separate tables, but even Rose noticed the shy glances her older sister would send to the man across the way. Which of course lead to teasing and taunting the rest of the night and for a few days.

Three weeks later, she hadn't seen him. It didn't help that the hospital had scheduled Lily for multiple shifts of overtime and staying late. Which resulted in Hunter spending extra days at Scott’s, and Lily not being at the cafe as often as she typically was. Flu season had come around and all parents believed their kid may have something more serious, but it was simply a lot of flu vaccinations, the odd time an appendicitis surgery. Routine procedures, just a lot of work.

On a chilly day at the end of September, for once, Lily could wake up without having to go to work for twelve hours or more. Her son snoring gently beside her after crawling into her bed from a nightmare the night before, and Joey snuggled at the end. Her deep green eyes fluttered open as the phone on her nightstand buzzed like crazy. Rubbing her eyes, Lily's other hand reached out to grab hold of the device, blurry eyes seeing Bucky's contact pop up on the screen.

With a groggy voice and a confused expression, Lily slid her thumb across the screen to answer, "Hello?"

"Lady Lily! It's Thor! Son of Odin!" a booming voice yelled into the phone, startling the young blonde. Her eyes glanced to her right to check to see that Hunter still laid fast asleep, and to ensure it stayed that way, the doctor slipped out of the bed and out into the hallway. When she closed the door, Thor continued his yelling, "I have stolen sergeant Barnes’s cellular device! I have overheard him and Captain Rogers discussing his feelings towards you!"

Lily winced at the loud voice radiating through her ear. She hadn't met Thor officially, just seen him with the others at the table weeks before. Personally, Lily wasn't interested in blondes, but no one could deny an attraction to the god. You could be the largest lesbian in the world and still would not mind getting down and dirty with the son of Odin. But of course, for the most part, Lily had only been staring at Bucky. And it didn't go unnoticed to many, especially the other Avengers

"I'm sorry? His attraction?" Lily muttered, still attempting to wake herself up from the much-needed sleep she had been woken up from. She wrapped one arm around herself while resting the other elbow on her hand, shivering slightly at the cool temperature of her home.

"Yes! This is lady Lily correct? If so, then I have an invitation for you! Sergeant Barnes does not know about this, nor does anyone else. But it is our dear friend Sam Wilson’s birthday!" he continued to boast, resulting in Lily holding the phone an inch or so away from her ear, "and I believe it would make Sergeant Barnes happy if you came. And bring your friend and sister! Sam has a small thing for lady Rose."

Before Lily could even answer, there was a crash on the other end of the line and the call went dead. Lily could only assume that Bucky had noticed the conversation taking place and shut it down, leaving Lily with a possibly life-changing decision on her plate, but she didn't know that yet. All she knew, was that Gen and Rose would go to any lengths to get Lily to attend the party, saying things like 'it'll be good for you' or 'you can see your loverboy again'. And Lily couldn't deny, she'd love to see Bucky again. But she'd be damned if she admitted it out loud.

-----

After walking joey, the three Osborne’s loaded into the car and drove down the busy roads of New York to Gen's cafe. Scott was picking Hunter up for the weekend, which meant that Lily was free for the night anyway, so maybe the party wasn't such a bad idea? But if you could deduce anything about the blonde, it's that she hated large gatherings and commotion. It made her anxious and paranoid about something that could go wrong. Plus, last time there was any real party like this in her life, she had been shown a video of her husband locking lips with a young brunette who looked about half his age.

"Hunt why don't you go see if there are any treats you can bring for Leila in the back," Lily whispered to her son with a gentle smirk on her face, "I have to talk to aunt Rose and auntie Gen for a few minutes." she continued, ruffling the boy’s hair and sending him on his way to the kitchen around the corner.

The two girls that were sitting opposite of Lily looked at her with matching skeptical expressions, both of their left eyebrows perked with interest as Lily sent her son away. Whenever this happened, Lily usually seemed to drop a ball on the two. Whether it was when she announced her pregnancy, being chosen as valedictorian, or when she shared the news of her divorce. Typically things that Hunter wouldn't understand, or wasn't old enough to know or mature enough to hear. But this was mostly so he didn't grow saddened at the idea of his mother hanging around his idols.

"So I was woken up by a strange phone call from Bucky Barnes," Lily began, and the two girls across from her simultaneously dropped their jaws. Lily held her finger up to signal that she wasn't finished with her story and for them not to jump ahead and get crazy ideas, "but on the other end was actually Thor. He invited us to Sam's birthday party tonight."

This caused shit-eating grins to replace the curious smiles on Gen and Rose's faces. Rose clapped her hands together, while Gen just shook her head in disbelief. These two women were Lily's closest companions in life. Rose was her biological sister that she had no choice but to deal with, sure, but their relationship was more than that. It was deeper and held more meaning than a simple sister relationship. They could lean on each other in times of need and never kept secrets, as far as the other knew. Most kids with multiple years between them aren't as close or never really bond, but Rose and Lily always clicked. Mostly because of their opposing personalities, which was the same as Gen. Gen was Lily's sister from another mister. From the moment they met, they were perfect, and things hadn't changed in all those years leading to this.

"Well, obviously we're going!" Rose exclaimed, pulling out her phone, "I will get the best dresses from my agency and ensure we look unclockable!" the younger Osborne sister beamed while excusing herself to make a few calls, to make sure they looked as good as she pictured. Rose seemed to forget that Lily hadn't agreed to go, but deep down, the eldest Osborne knew she didn't ave a choice.

"This is great! It'll give you a chance to see Bucky again," Gen winked, sipping her coffee. This was typically how the cycle of Gen's setups began, sort of. Lily would stumble across a guy that seemed interested in her, and Gen would stop at no end to get the two on a date. Of course, Lily never really seemed to have any interest in the guy that her best friend set her up with, but maybe this time was different. Maybe Bucky was different. And that's what Gen prayed about as well, "Maybe get to know him a little more. You get chatty when you're tipsy."

Lily Osborne drunk was a sight to see. All of the fear and anxiety she felt seemed to melt away with the ice cubes in her cup. That's why it was called liquid courage. One of the main signs of Lily being intoxicated was her desire to sing. for years, Lily sang in the choir, but always turned down solos, despite being one of the most talented singers that her school had ever seen. She was terrified that people would laugh at her, but if she was home alone, she sang like an angel. Her voice was soft and supple, and her ability to harmonize was unrivalled. Both Gen and Rose secretly hoped that the avengers would be able to be blessed with the sound of Lily's voice because it truly was as angelic as she was.

"I don't know if I even want to go. You know I don't do parties, let alone one hosted by the king of parties himself, Tony Stark." Lily sighed, twisting the straw in her lemonade around as she nibbled on her bottom lip. Her eyes glanced up to see Rose beaming out the window of the cafe, saying something to a designer or somebody on her phone. She looked so excited, and Lily didn't want to be the one to take that away.

Not after the past few weeks, Rose has had.

"C'mon, Lil," Gen sighed as if reading her best friend’s mind. the brunette reached her hands out and cupped Lily's frail and nimble ones, a soft and gentle look on her face, "Rose is excited. For the first time in weeks. Plus, nothing will happen. I'll be there, and so will Rose. Plus, I doubt Mr. Winter Soldier would ever let anything happen to you anyways. Buddies totally whipped."

"Mr. Winter Soldier? really?"

-----

After Scott had scooped Hunter up from the cafe, Lily stole the two adult women away from whatever they were doing, leading them to the car. But, Lily apparently wasn't allowed to drive. It was around two now, and Lily had to get back home to take joey out on his afternoon walk. But no matter the protests she gave, the younger sister was the one behind the wheel and had control over where they went either way. Lily accepted her fate and leaned back in her seat, attempting to figure out where Rose was have taking them.

Recognizing upstate new york, Lily glanced over towards the blonde that sat next to her. The young mom had figured out exactly what Rose was planning in that mischievous head of hers. One thing with all Osborne’s is their ability to not only think on their feet but figure out what was happening around them without anyone telling them. the art of deduction, in a way. But not that advanced, just piecing together their surroundings and doing the math. And with where they were, Lily knew that Rose had the genius idea to take the two other girls to a hair salon to get all nice and done up.

"Yeah no, I can do my hair," Lily stated, crossing her arms over her chest and putting her foot down. No way in hell was she letting another person that she didn't know, do her hair. She had a perfectly good hairdresser down in the suburbs of Manhattan and was fine with just going there for when she needed a haircut. And today? She did not.

"Let me check again...Gen?" Rose swivelled in her seat to look at the back where Gen sat, attempting to hold back a laugh, "Which one of us is the doctor and which one is the stylist?"

This caused Gen to let her giggles escape as she rested her velvety hand on Lily's shoulder, leaning forward towards her best friend, "Rose makes a fair point. You specialize in children's health, she specializes in adult fashion. C'mon, it'll be fun."

Once again, despite her protests, Lily was overpowered and dragged into the salon. The moment she was asked what style she was looking for, she answered, beating out her younger sister in deciding what would look best. She requested a simple hairstyle, possibly a ponytail of sorts. The hairdresser nodded along and got to work. Luckily, no hair was cut off or changed, and it was a simple styling appointment for her and the other girls.

Half an hour later, the three were back in the car, this time, with Lily behind the wheel. The three sang along to the radio as they returned to lower Manhattan, where the suburbs laid. Lily had managed to convince Rose to do her makeup instead of a hire professional, claiming Rose had the same talents as they did. It was true, Rose was a wizard with a makeup brush. Plus, it was fun to see her sister so focused on something like this. All of the pain of the past few weeks forgotten as she created a beige smokey eye on Lily, an a darker version of the same thing on Gen.

After she glanced in the mirror, Lily didn't believe it was her. She looked matured and awake, instead of the typical baby-faced ball of stress she was on a day-to-day basis. She stared into the mirror with a shocked yet elated look on her face, enjoying the feeling of confidence that rushed through her. She was Lily Osborne, full-time doctor and mother, older sister to two siblings, and a survivor of a toxic relationship. But it seemed that all of that confidence shattered when Rose pulled in a rack of dresses for Lily to try on. All tight around the hips and bust, made for girls with hourglass figures who hadn't given birth to a baby. Something that Lily wouldn't be caught dead in.

"Not happening. I refuse."

-----

Compromise. that's the lesson of this section. Taking other’s options or opinions and your own, and finding a common ground. That was the foundation of Rose and Lily's relationship. Learning to compromise with each other to keep the peace. And that was the result of their dispute of the dresses Rose had brought in. Most of them were sleek and tight, almost like a second skin. And as pretty as Lily felt all done up, she didn't have near enough confidence to rock one of the body-con dresses her sister had brought.

In the end, she decided on something a bit more classic and Lily-like. A lake blue dress with spaghetti straps holding it up. It had silver lace decals spread all across both the lower plunging neckline and a-line tulle skirt that hit just below Lily's mid thigh. A piece of mesh fabric kept the cleavage that Lily had tucked in, instead of placing it on display like the majority of the cocktail dresses Rose had brought in. The deeper blue helped extenuate the green of Lily's eyes, which was complemented by the light golden shimmer that laid atop of her eyelid. Her lips were a pink nude with a touch of gloss to create a shiny effect, and her hair was pulled into a pony connected by two criss-cross pieces of hair, with two strands falling forward to frame her face. One word to sum it all up, breathtaking. Lily radiated in her outfit, and anyone who saw her would have no choice but to agree. And if they didn't? They were either delusional or lying to themselves because she was stunning.

Rose, on the other hand, was embracing the small window of time she had left without showing the baby bump. She adorned a burgundy lace dress that hugged her curves like a glove and came to a halter top point around her neck. Her golden blonde hair laid across her shoulders in a curly river, with deep red lips to compliment the dress. Her eyes were done a bit darker than both Lily and Gen's, making her forest green eyes stand out as well. Rose and Lily were blessed with the looks of their mother. High cheekbones, plump lips and a perfectly sculpted nose that tends to make most jealous. Although Rose knew her worth and understood her beauty, Lily had a harder time coming to terms with it due to the anxiety that plagued her mind. It created a constant reminder that she just wasn't enough, and to try harder.

Gen stayed true to her out-of-the-box aesthetic and wore a suit jacket dress that reached her mid-thigh, with a pair of bright yellow pumps to create a splash of colour in her outfit. Her braids were pulled into a high ponytail, and a darker smokey eye created a glowing ring around the amber eyes that she was blessed with. Her plush and plump lips were painted a deep maroon, and she looked like a businesswoman who had men falling at her feet. When in reality, she was the most easy-going and relaxed person you would probably ever meet, and would rather die than ever be stuck behind a desk at a corporate job.

The three ladies corralled themselves into Lily's car and began their journey towards the avengers compound a bit before the event started. Rose had instructed Lily to leave at a time that would make them fashionably late, to keep Thor guessing whether or not his invitation was accepted or not. Plus it built up the suspicion of the others around the man. Somehow Rose knew all of this, and Lily guessed it was because of her extensive work in the fashion industry. Having to tell people what will make them look their absolute best. Both fashionably, and socially. And who was Lily to argue?

When they did arrive, Lily let out a shaky breath before turning off the car. There was no turning back now. They had drove all of this way, and Lily knew Rose and Gen would be pissed if she chickened out now. Plus, she doubted that they would even let her. Honestly, the two would drag her in by her toes if they had to. Out of Lily's best interest of course. They wanted her to move on and live her life outside of work and Hunter.

"Come on Lil, let's go get the tinman to fall in love with you."

[tatticstudio55]

Jon and Dany – both beyond the Wall at the end?

DAY SEVEN (Sunday, August 2nd) Leadership  |  Free Choice  |  DoS: Royal Retirement / Passing the Torch

This is less meta-ish and borders more on the speculative side, but I’d like to discuss a Jon and Dany (potential) ending I’ve never seen anyone talk about before: them ending both beyond the Wall, living with the free folks/as free folks. So, basically, the ending Jon got on the show, but with Dany by his side. I would even go as far as to say that the showrunners might have considered it.

This is not by any means “my ideal” Jonerys ending. That would be Jon and Dany settling on Dragonstone with a bunch of targlings and wild dragons. I do not, alas, think this is where the story is going. I do not expect either (or both) of them on the IT either. On the other hand, an ending with them both beyond the Wall seems to me like it could work with the overall story. There is already some book evidence/foreshadowing pointing to Jon’s endgame there, notably in ASOS when he (forgive my French) “finds himself” beyond the Wall:

“On the edge of the haunted forest, where the tents had been, Jon found an oakwood stump and sat.

Ygritte wanted me to be a wildling. Stannis wants me to be the Lord of Winterfell. But what do I want? The sun crept down the sky to dip behind the Wall where it curved through the western hills. Jon watched as that towering expanse of ice took on the reds and pinks of sunset.

[…]

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. It was a hunger inside him, sharp as a dragonglass blade. A hunger . . . he could feel it. It was food he needed, prey, a red deer that stank of fear or a great elk proud and defiant. He needed to kill and fill his belly with fresh meat and hot dark blood. His mouth began to water with the thought.

It was a long moment before he understood what was happening. When he did, he bolted to his feet. "Ghost?" He turned toward the wood, and there he came, padding silently out of the green dusk, the breath coming warm and white from his open jaws. "Ghost!" he shouted, and the direwolf broke into a run.

[…]

He had his answer then.” Jon XII, ASOS

Dany is more of a wild card, but even the show gave us SOME reasons to believe that D&D played with the idea at some point: the pregnancy bait, Dany’s comment in 7x07 about King’s Landing and how “constrictive” the Dragonpit felt, Dany’s “we could stay here a thousand years. No one would find us” line in 8x01. Most importantly, back when I was watching season 7, this is the impression I was getting (from the showrunners):

Dany is a good person at heart, but she would not make a good queen nor would she like being queen.

I do not wholly agree with this, especially if we are talking about bookDany, who would make – and is – a much better queen than she is given credit for, but it looked to me like this is where the show was going with her. Or, at least, this is the message they were trying to communicate. They were not trying to “hide” Dany’s dark turn from the audience by making her or trying to make her bad-good-bad-good-bad-good, they simply had another endgame in mind for the character. I do not want to make this about the show but had to get this out of the way.

Now onto bookDany:

A while ago, I posted a meta where I discussed a pattern in Daenerys’s story: twice she succeeded at something magical, highly dangerous and related to dragons, and twice after she ended up in a desertic environment, thirsting, starving and nearly dying from exposition. Following the rule of 3 (which is especially predominant in her arc), it will probably happen again and – since there is no Great Grass Sea in Westeros – the “desertic environment” swallowing her afterward will be the frozen lands beyond the Wall. It could mean that she will die there, but it could also mean that she will simply disappear there. Her fate could also be revealed to the reader while remaining unknown to most characters. This would fit with Dany’s current representation in the story so far: she is an enigma, a rumor; nobody really knows her whereabouts, who she is, what she is, what she wants, what she has, if she is even real.

There are numerous parallels to be drawn between Daenerys and Mance Rayder, which I covered here. I would love the irony of Dany coming to Westeros thinking she is reclaiming her family’s lands, only to settle in the only part that was never conquered by the Targaryen. There is the (disputable, ok, but) fact that the only region in all of the continent where dragons could turn up useful for tree planting would be beyond the Wall (so frozen soil can be thawed and warmed up for plants to grow there again). Martin hung a pretty riffle on the metaphorical Wall when Silverwing refused to fly across in Fire and Blood. There is this pattern of wildling women making up Jon’s romantic prospects; first a wildling “commoner” (Ygritte), then a wildling “princess” (Val), then a wildling “queen” (Dany, eventually, if this theory proves to be correct). So of course, you will ask –

If this is Martin’s intended ending, why couldn’t the d’s just go with it?

Well, because the d’s never gave Dany any incentive to go beyond the Wall, apart from a brief rescue mission back in season 7. If Dany must end up there, something has got to bring her there and the show scrapped or discarded all of it : no Lands of Always Winter, no curtain of light, no this, no that, no nothing. And once she gets there in the books, because I am quite sure she will, she will not come back. The North is Dany’s ultimate destination. No yoyoing back and forth North and South like what the show did. That was just dumb. Travel time and distances should mean something, even if you have dragons (plus, Dany’s armies would have to travel on foot, horseback or by boat, like everybody else). The closest of yoyoing we have ever gotten in asoiaf was probably with Catelyn, it spanned three books, and she never made it back North anyway.

Did the d’s consider going with that ending? They might just. The clues were certainly there (see above…) but at some point, they must have realized that it would not work with the hole they had dug themselves in.

Now about the elephant in the room

I know some people will think that Dany ending beyond the Wall does not make much sense for her story, which technically (so far) does not have much to do with the lands beyond the Wall. In a way, I agree. Some people would also find such an ending anticlimactic to her arc and a waste after everything she has learned about leadership and politics in Meereen. I also agree. On a watsonian level, an ending with, say, Dany as a queen in Westeros – I think it works. Of course, I do. Where it does not work is on a doyalist level. Dany already had her arc of becoming queen. She achieved that by the end of book 3. Then she had to learn all the nit and gritty and dirty work of ruling over the rubble of a corrupt system while trying to make the lives better for everyone. If Dany becomes queen in Westeros, the same thing will happen again. Different setting, different people, same story. Some people have criticized the underlying message of Dany’s fight against slavery as “only a preparation” for what comes next in Westeros, saying it would undermine the real value of Dany’s work in Essos. I agree. However, the same problem applies if Dany becomes queen in Westeros: then her time in Essos is reduced to a prop up, a preparation, as if ruling Essos were somewhat less important than ruling Westeros. Furthermore, I cannot imagine an ending where Dany, still in possession of significant military forces – significant enough to secure her a crown, anyway – could choose to settle in Westeros without being plagued with guilt over leaving Essos’s slaves behind. I am sorry, I just cannot.

This is also, I think, where part of the “Dany is not a peace time queen” mentality comes from. Dany will never be a peace time queen, not because she prefers war, or because she does not want peace, but because what she is trying to achieve, in these times and places, means a lifetime of war. You cannot undo and rebuild an entire system that is rotten at its core in a single lifetime (heck, even show!Tyrion said this to her, for what the show is worth now…), much less in a few years. Dany is not a peace time queen because she is not a queen that is interested in maintaining the statue quo. At least that is how her time in Meereen revealed her. Arya would not be a peace time queen either. Jon would not be a peace time king. They could never be, less they abandoned their ideals and their ethics for a more comfortable life.

Then you might say that an ending where Dany goes back to Essos works too. It does – once again, on a watsonian level. What is the problem with this on a doyalist level? It turns Dany into a deus ex machina, coming to Westeros just in time to save it, then leaving it right after, as if neither the Others, nor her had ever been there.

The two remaining options are: either she dies a queen in Westeros, most likely during the Great War, or… the queen, Daenerys Targaryen, dies, while Dany lives.

That means that all reasonable possibilities, or choices, to keep on fighting as a queen are taken from her. Maybe her forces were severely depleted during the Great War. Maybe her dragons died. Maybe both. Maybe her function, not as an individual, but as a character in a specific story called A song of ice and fire, was to destroy an old system (AND to inspire others to follow in her footsteps, ensure that her efforts were not in vain, that the first steps will not go wasted, that the work she started will be taken up by other peoples, and others after them, and others after), not to rebuild the new one. There is nothing inherently wrong with that. Frodo Baggins’ role in The Lord of the Rings was to destroy something evil. His gardener Sam was the one who planted the trees and went on to become a mayor afterward. One was a destroyer and the other was a builder, but in the end, they were both heroes.

Not to mention that Frodo did not die at the end. You could say that he went on to live beyond the Wall too.

[quicksiilver]

In My Father’s Eyes

A new series!

Summary:  An amateur New York City artist in her freshman year of college is journeying through life alone without a mother or father.  At nineteen she’s been through more than anyone older than forty could say.  Passionate about her art and her best friend, she finds one late night at work begins the story of her path to becoming the savior of many worlds.  Unexpected news of her family strikes her hard, but a new potential love interest with shared life experience eases the pain.

Part One: The Artist

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: I’ve been writing this for some time now.. It’s not on any specific timeline, but if I had to place it it’d be as if Infinity War and Endgame never happened.  First time I’m posting a fic! Enjoy!

It was midnight on Saturday in New York City.  The bar I worked in religiously was getting ready to shut down for the night, the second bartender and my best friend Shaun and I getting started on our closing tasks.  We were on a street corner in the heart of Manhattan and we were always slammed, but tonight was unusually quiet.

Squatting down behind the bar I started stacking clean cups as Shaun wiped down the counter top.

“Pretty weird tonight, huh?” He asked.  Glancing to him and his shaggy blonde hair I nodded.

“In my years of working here I’ve never seen a night like this,” I sighed standing to my feet hurrying around the bar to turn off our lit up ‘open’ sign in the window.  Just as I got to it two men came in the door letting it violently swing shut behind them.  Slowly lowering my hand from the light switch Shaun gave me a sarcastic pout making me smile.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Shaun greeted them happily, setting up coasters in front of their chairs.  Both men had disciplined looks upon their faces as they spoke to one another.  The dark haired man with odd glasses on his face gave Shaun a subtle wave as they took off their coats and sat down.

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” Shaun nodded and took a step back.  I met him behind the bar and we both went into the kitchen.

“Just when I thought we’d be outta here kinda early tonight,” I groaned rubbing my hands over my eyes, “I’ve got such a busy day tomorrow, and it’s my only day off this week.”

“I got them, don’t worry,” Shaun shrugged his shoulders, “Why don’t you head out of here, shut off that sign and go home?” He turned to start scooping some ice into a bucket to take out to the men, and shot me a look over his shoulder raising an eyebrow.  I just watched him for a second before shaking my head.

“Are you sure?” I asked sweetly, feeling a tad guilty.

“Yeah,” He said with a smile, “I know you’ve got school stuff to deal with.  I got them,” He said again playfully, making it more clear to me.  I gave him a nod and a smile.  He returned it and then went to work taking the ice out to the guys ready to take their order.  Peeking around the corner of the kitchen I looked at the guys curiously.  They looked important and spoke secretively to one another, nearly on each others laps but not in a gay way.  One was dark and brooding, and the other seemed jockey and poised.  Neither were dressed as if they were people of importance, but they sure gave off the vibe they were.  The man in the glasses glanced up at me.  We held eye contact for only a moment before I felt a chill down my spine and the urge to turn away.  When I looked back Shaun was making their drinks and caught a look at me.

“Rachel,” He said sternly with a smile, “Go home,” He said at a whisper.  Sighing, I smiled, and uncomfortably made my way around the men at the bar to finish cleaning the place up.  I went around the place stacking the chairs on top the tables, making sure our menus were in the right places and switched off the sign in the window feeling eyes on me every now and then.  As I came around the counter for the last time so I could clock out at the monitor on the bar, I made eye contact with the other man and slightly stumbled over my feet.  He had soft eyes, and dirty blonde hair that fell perfectly on his head.  He had a polite poise to him, yet gave off a strong energy of raw man.  He was gorgeous.  His eyes were familiar, however, as if I had seen them before.  When I finished at the monitor I gave Shaun a quick hug, grabbed my keys and took myself home.

Midnight streets of the city used to scare me as a kid.  My friends used to tell me stories in school of homeless people who would turn into zombies once the clocks hit twelve, or how dangerous things get, especially once it’s dark out.  The stories would scare me so bad I ended up sleeping in my mom’s bed most of my childhood.  It was just her and I growing up, the two of us in a crappy apartment here in Manhattan.  She had me when she was young, only nineteen years old, but she made it work when she wasn’t in any trouble.  I adored her and loved her more than anything.  As a young child before I was in school we spent a lot of time outside walking the streets of the city or playing in Central Park.  Walking around the trees with flowers on them was my favorite place to be.  I can remember spring time and how we would go collect the flowers and put them around the apartment.  Sometimes we would lay down on the grass looking up into the sky and she’d pick petals off the flowers setting them on my nose or forehead.  She’d tell me stories, mainly fairytales, of far away places and magical beings.  I was obsessed with her rendition of The Little Mermaid.

She was great to me, we were best friends, but at the end of the day she was terribly messed up.  As soon as I was old enough to walk to and from school alone I would come home and she’d be passed out either on the couch or our bed.  Alcohol was her choice of poison.  The first time I found her I was seven years old.  I can remember putting a blanket on her and kissing her cheek saying goodnight as I went on to do my homework and eat Cheetos for dinner.

Around eleven it was mainly me in the apartment.  My mom went through a constant cycle of getting sober, then falling back in, then getting sober again.  I did my best to help her through it all while getting myself through middle school.  She had a job, she was a waitress at a diner for many years and it was her working there that gave me some experience for the bar.  The other women who worked there never seemed to mind if I sat there for hours waiting for my mom to finish a shift.  They would check up on me, bring me mac and cheese and sometimes desserts if I drew them a few nice pictures on the paper placemats.

When I was thirteen I started doing anything to make a buck.  Seeing an empty fridge and my mom struggling to pay our bills really forced me to grow up, fast.  I was taking out garbage for the tenants in our building for three dollars a bag, and babysitting anyone for five dollars an hour.  I tried to sell some of my moms drinks she had in our fridge, but I quickly learned that wasn’t a great idea.  I was a brand new teenager experiencing change alone when I should’ve had my mother there to help me.

By sixteen she was dragging.  It had become visibly clear to me that I no longer had a mother and that I was taking care of her instead of her taking care of me.  I got my full time job at the bar on the corner cleaning dishes, and she was stealing some of my money.  Confronting her about it was never an answer, and if I did she would break down.

I was seventeen when she died, and it broke me.  To grow up and watch someone you love fall apart in front of your eyes is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.  Walking into your home after a night of work to your mother on your kitchen floor.  She was thirty-six.  She didn’t get to see me graduate high school, she wasn’t here to watch me get accepted into a community college here in Manhattan, and she won’t be here for anything else.

Now at nineteen, the age she had me, I work full time at the bar doing everything.  I’m in my second semester of college studying art, something I’ve always loved, and I’m keeping myself on my feet in the apartment.  I swore to myself that day two years ago that I would never pick up a drink, and that will forever be something I stand by.

Pushing the building's gate open, I fought to close it because of how rusty it was and jiggled my keys around searching for the one for the front door.  I got myself inside and then started up the stairs taking them two at a time to reach the third floor.  I could hear music coming from my neighbors and a strong smell of marijuana which never fazed me, that's been normal since I can remember.

I locked my door behind me with my key and then slid the safety lock shut.  Kicking my shoes off at the door I took a deep breath and tossed my keys onto the table by the door.  I made my way into the living room, turned on the tiny tv and then turned into the kitchen to search the fridge for something to eat.

Settling for leftover cold pasta, I tore off the lid of the Tupperware and flopped onto my ancient couch.

The New York City news was going on about its upcoming spring festivals and I couldn’t help but feel excited for them.  I normally kept to myself now, but the few friends I have were into a lot of the things I was.  Shaun, who‘s my age, goes to the same school and is an English major, and two of our other friends, Jessica and Elliot, are art majors with me.  They’re a year older than Shaun and I.  All three of them still live home with their parents, and they’re all well informed with my situation and have been nothing but supportive.  This time of year we loved going out to parks and spending time in between our classes outside.  I couldn’t wait to be out in a green, grassy area drawing one of my friends as they posed for me.

My eyes were falling in love with the shots of flowers the news was showing that when my phone rang I didn’t even look away.

“Hello?” I answered distractedly.

“Rach!” It was Shaun.

“Hey, you seem a little too happy.”

“You know those two guys?  That came in?” He spoke quickly.

“Yes,” I answered and shoved two cold noodles into my mouth.

“They were... well I’m pretty sure that they were those guys?  You know the ones that did the whole thing?” He fumbled on every last word.

“Shaun... what!” I laughed audibly, adjusting myself in my seat.

“Avengers! Rach! Avengers!” Shaun shouted and I froze.  Avengers was a word the public hadn’t heard in years, at least me since I was in school.  New York City nearly went to shit years prior, but thanks to them we managed to bounce back, and even the last time they were big in the news the city could’ve been wiped out again.  I was thankful to still have my mom around during that time, and that none of my friends' families were affected.  It still amazed me we lived in a world where these people were real.

“Shaun... what?” I repeated my words in disbelief.

“Rachel, I swear.  The guy with the short dark hair and glasses? Tony Stark.  Iron Man,” He paused and I could hear a door shut and keys jingle.  He was just now leaving the bar, “And the other guy? Captain America!” He said proud of himself.  An image of the blonde guy at the bar popped into my brain and I nearly choked on a noodle.

“You good?” Shaun asked as I coughed.

“Yeah,” I said quietly once I could speak, “I’m just... holy crap!” My stomach did a flip.  Kids in school would brag about meeting an Avenger, some would even go as far as to pretend they had powers themselves and that they were one of them.  Shaun was a huge Avengers fan.  It was never in my lucky stars to meet an Avenger and I just so happened to be in the presence of two of them tonight.

“Ya know, I knew they seemed important,” I said shaking my head looking back to my tv screen, “Did you see the way they were talking?  Do you think something is going on?” I asked Shaun who gave me a simple answer back.

“Who knows, anything could happen.”

“True, remember the attack a few years ago? Who saw that coming,” I rolled my eyes.

“I’m sure Cap did,” Shaun said confidently.  I could hear the smug smile on his face.

“Shaun, do you love the man?” I asked, both of us laughing.

“Maybe I do!” He scoffed, “Something the matter with that?”

“Not at all,” I said, “Get home safely please.  Can we talk tomorrow?”

“Of course we can,” He said.

“Okay,” I smiled then felt butterflies in my stomach once I remembered the men at the bar, “We saw Avengers!” I nearly screeched and Shaun laughed.  We cheered a bit more before saying goodnight and hanging up.

I cleaned up my spot in the living room heading into my bedroom.  Pulling my work clothes off of me, I tossed them to the floor beside a laundry basket that was nearing its limit, and walked into the bathroom meeting my reflection in the mirror.  My tired blue eyes were staring back.  Rubbing my fingers under them a few times I groaned at how dark the circles looked against my pale skin.  Turning on and leaning over the sink, I scooped some cold water in my hands and splashed it over my face looking back up into the mirror.

There was a long day ahead of me tomorrow.  Two projects are due next week by Friday and tomorrow is my only day off from working down at the bar.

I reached for a hair tie on the counter and pulled my dark hair into a bun on top of my head with a sigh.

After brushing my teeth and washing my face properly I turned back into my room, pulled a sweatshirt over my head and rolled onto my mattress burying myself in all the pillows I had come to collect over my nineteen years of life and fell asleep.

Thunder shook my apartment and I jolted awake, springing straight up in bed.  Lighting as bright as day struck the sky and soon after was another clap of dangerously loud thunder.  Muffled voices came from the living room, and after another rumble of thunder the voices turned into screams.

“Mama?” I called out, feeling my stomach start to flip.  I could hear her scream again as if she was shouting to someone else inside with her.  Swinging my legs over the side of the bed I jumped to the floor, my purple nightgown hanging below my knees.  My nails and toenails were painted pink and I had a temporary tattoo of Blues Clues on my arm.  My room continued the shake and the lightning kept striking.  I heard the wind outside pick up, the whistling coming through the windows.  Peeking out of one of them all I could see was the darkness of the sky and the tops of a few buildings, but no rain.  I wasn’t tall enough to see down to the ground yet.

“Mama?” I called out again, a bit louder this time getting closer to the closed door.

“Rachel,” She shouted, “Go to sleep!” Her voice was broken, she sounded like she was in trouble.  My stomach flipped again and I felt my heartbeat pick up.  If she was in trouble I wasn’t going to go back to sleep.  She taught me that if I was ever in trouble that I should call 911 and answer their questions.  I knew all of my information and everything about my mom.  I lifted a hand and turned the doorknob.  The phone was on the counter in the kitchen.  The bedroom door creaked open slowly and I looked out into the living room but didn’t see anything.  Taking two more steps out I found the phone on the counter with my eyes and felt proud.  I was going to make it.  As I was running for it, I looked toward the front door and saw my mom sitting on the floor against the door with her hands and legs locked up in a metal band that looked like they were shaped like snakes.  She was crying and she looked like she was hurt, she was bleeding on her face and her arms.  I slowed my running.

“Mama?” I pouted reaching a hand toward her.  The room fell silent and it seemed as if the entire world did too.  The thunder and lightning stopped, and so did the wind.  The noises that caused my mom and I to shout had all gone away.  I froze and watched her and she shook her head quickly side to side and cried.

“Rachel, go,” She begged, agony in her voice, “Go, go, go.”

“No,” A deep, gravely voice spoke.  Slowly looking beside her I found a man so tall he looked like he wouldn’t fit inside of our doorway.  It was dark so it was hard to figure out what he looked like, but it almost looked as if his skin was blue.

“Rachel,” He spoke again, coming closer to me.  My small feet walked me backwards as he came toward me, backing me against the living room wall.

“Baby, run!” My mother screamed, but before I could take off a large blue hand was grabbing onto me and picking me up.  I let out a piercing shriek at his cold touch and continued to scream the longer his icy hands held me in the air.

Suddenly I sat up in bed to the sound of my phone alarm going off beside me with a gasp.  Fumbling around for it, I shut it off and flopped back onto my pillows taking a long deep breath.  It wasn’t the first time I had dreamt something up like that.  As a kid my mother always told me how active of an imagination I had.  She influenced me to get into art by telling me to write about these dreams and draw pictures of what I saw.  There’s two notepads full of pictures of men and women like the man I just saw in that dream somewhere buried in my school things.  Elementary school teachers would scold my mom for letting me tell my stories and share with the other kids, but she allowed me to express myself and taught me to not be afraid of who I was, and I’m thankful for that because I live by it to this day.  I refuse to shrink myself for another human being which automatically didn’t make me too popular in high school.

Picking my phone up I swiped open to my messages between Shaun and I and told him about the dream.  Setting my phone back down I waited patiently for the ding and lifted it back up once I got it.

S: You haven’t had a dream like this in a few years.. right?!

I started to type a response, but he double texted me and read my mind.

R: Since my

S: Since your mom passed right?!

I deleted the words and nodded to myself.

R: Yeah.  I think it’s just me being stressed over this semester ending.

S: That seems fair enough?

R: It does.....

There was a moment before he texted back.

S: .....but?

I laughed at how well he knew me.  He knew more was coming.

R: ....but I would only dream these dreams whenever she got bad.

S: How old were you in the dream?

I paused and tried to remember the things that I saw.  The nail polish, the tattoo, the Little Mermaid nightgown.

R: Probably eight.

S: Right... and that’s when you were becoming more independent right? You were walking yourself to school and she was... starting to go through a rougher time.

R: You’re right.

A minute passed before either of us said anything.  Then we both sent a message at the same time.

R: What time do you work today?

S: You okay??

I laughed to myself and sent him a thumbs up.

S: Okay good...... and I open at 1 today.  It’s Sunday so it’s just me there.  You should swing by and hang out if you don’t work yourself too hard today!

R: Thanks Shaunyyy.  I probably will.

He sent me a heart and I smiled tossing my phone on the bed.  It was nine thirty and time for me to get started on this day.

Breakfast was the usual, an Eggos waffle in the microwave and a cup of almost burnt coffee because my pot was on the fritz.  I watched the news for a half hour to catch up on any life business I had the potential of missing, and then I showered and unpacked all of my art things on the kitchen table.  My paints were set out along with a few different sized canvases I had just bought after getting paid last Wednesday.  My two projects were simple.  One was for my color theory class, I needed to efficiently mix paint to create a proper color wheel with every color on there, and then add beside the wheel all the definitions to what each word meant.  This project being more than easy for me, I finished properly in almost an hour.  The second project, however, took me three.  It was for my regular painting class, and the assignment was to freestyle and create something that represented who we were as a person.

I scribbled for forty-five minutes on scrap paper trying to come up with a story about me and who I was and where I came from, but in the end I couldn’t see how anyone would find ‘Girl Grows Up Alone with Drunk Mother Who Dies and is Left More Alone’ interesting.  I was just another sob story everyone was tired of hearing.  I never even learned from my mother where we were from or how we ended up here.  It was just the two of us.  I never met any other family members.  I never even knew who my father was.  We never spoke about it, and I’ve kicked myself for it since she passed because I never asked her.

My eyes flickered between the blank canvas and the piece of paper I violated.  Grabbing the sheet I crumbled it in my hands, stood up from my chair and frustratedly threw the paper into the kitchen and watched as it bounced off a cabinet, onto the counter and rolled into the sink.  I got myself a glass of water and decided on a quick break to give my brain a rest.  Looking around the apartment sipping the cool water I let my mind wander.  I remembered the dream I had, and what I had said to Shaun.  It was clearly a stress dream.  Although, I thought, judging by the thoughts I had afterwards maybe it was a sign.  My mom influenced me to be an artist because of my dreams.  The dreams gave me an outlet, a different world to immerse myself in and create on a piece of paper.

I nearly dropped my glass on the floor.  Setting it down I hurried back to the table and began mixing some blue paint.  I was going to go back to my roots, where it started.  The visions that got me into art.

By the time I was finished I was more than proud.  My arms were covered in shades of white and blue, but I was happy.  My mind had traveled while I was mid-painting and the canvas turned into a world I had never seen before.  The people were from my dreams, but the world and scenery around them came from somewhere else inside of me.  It was clearly fantasy, but beautiful.

Glancing to my phone I had a missed call from Shaun from five minutes ago.  The time read two fifteen.  Wiping off what paint I could on my hands and arms, I tapped on Shaun’s name to call him back.

“Hey!” He answered at nearly a whisper seeming excited.

“Hey, I just got done,” I said slipping my shoes on, “I feel like a mess but I want to come hang out down there.”

“Uh, yeah,” Shaun said sarcastically and I laughed, “Rach, they’re back.” I paused and raised my eyebrows.

“The Avenger’s guys?” I asked, slipping on shoes.

“Mhm,” He said, “They just got here.  That’s why I called you before.  It’s just the two from last night.”

“That’s crazy,” I said, “Kinda weird.”

“Not weird for me, I’m loving this!” Shaun said. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was cheesing behind the phone.

“Shaun, I’m sorry, but Captain America is not going to have a crush on you,” I laughed out loud grabbing my keys and leaving my apartment.

“Shut up, Rachel,” He groaned.

“I’m on my way now, and beware!” I teased, “I’m a little hangry!”

“Nacho’s coming right up,” Shaun said and I hung up with a small thank you.

[whichpercydoyouthink]

I Recommend: 3 Will Be Free

We have roadtrips. Gang conflict. A lot of tense stand offs. We have queer-accepting mafia bosses. We have Neo’s trademark croptops, Miw’s flawless makeup, and Shin’s adorable glasses. We have guns. We have a whole lot of shirtless shots. We have antagonists you’ll root for just as much as the protagonists.

What to we have? 3 Will Be Free!

Let me make this clear first up, this ain’t about a love triangle. This is a polyamourous relationship between three people. Just so you know. Rare, ain’t it?

This Thai drama is, in my opinion, freaking brilliant! Not only did it do a polyamourous relationship pretty good (and actually had it endgame), but it did it with a captivating plot, beautiful camera shots, and a hella intense soundtrack. I will definitely be rewatching this one in the future. 

Let's get into this. I’m not trying to spoil anything hear but I have to gush about this and so I’m sorry if I accidently reveal anything or imply enough for some people to work stuff out. Just watch it! I can’t say it enough.

To introduce you a little, the initial plot of 3 Will Be Free all surrounds this Mafia type boss guy called Thana. Enter main character number one: Neo, a free spirited dancer at a club who catches the eye of Thana's second wife Vanika and they start an affair. Enter main character 2: Miw, a hostess at a nearby club who meets Shin (main character 3), the son of Thana's first wife, one night when his friends pay her to sleep with Shin. Things quickly get chaotic when Thana finds out about the affair, sends people to kill Neo and punish Vanika only Vanika gets killed in the crossfire, Neo runs and hides at Miw's club only to run into Shin in the bathrooms and just as they're both caught, Miw comes in and shoots Thana's right hand man dead (it all happens in like the first episode, okay, its fine to spoil, right?). So yeah. You can probably imagine the running-for-their-lives, road trip that Neo and Miw enbark on with Shin swept along for the ride because of a mysterious connection to Neo. 

I'm not gonna say more about the plot except that Thana's right hand man, Phon, happens to have a transgender girlfriend, Mae, who is devastated whe she hears about Phon’s death and embarks on a revenge driven chase after the main trio with Phon's best friend Ter (who also works for Thana). The two bond over their shared loss and show some of the saddest, heart-wrenching moments as Ter struggles without his friend to guide him and Mae suffers the loss of the only person who properly supported her. Mae is probably my favourite character in the show, she is just so good and showed the most emotional depth despite her limited screen time and the show really did her dirty, she did not catch a break. Also why the heck did this show have to make me love Phon even after he died?? He was just the nicest, most supportive boyfriend ever and honestly, despite the whole gang thing and the fact that he was trying to kill Neo, I kind of wish he had lived. For extra info this show is ten 50 minute episodes long and is on youtube with every episode split into 4 parts. So go watch. You'll be in for a ride.

All along we have Miw and Neo bickering constantly and Shin grinning quietly in fondness. That’s essentially their relationship summed up. It’s adorable.

Individually, though, I loved the depth I felt in these characters and how they felt more than just stereotypes or cardboard flat.

Neo ( Way-Ar Sangngern / Joss). On the surface, this guy is your pansexual bad boy hooker/prostitute/stripper who works a ton of jobs and lives freely, working a ton of jobs with no set future. Neo is also a gentleman who can be summoned by wallet theft to save the day and is very caring and protective of those he loves. Essentially, he’s the mama bear of the trio, but unfortunately he is also a jerk, selfish, and may very well have a saviour-complex. I don’t think he’s everyone’s favourite by the end of the show BUT he kind of holds the trio together and they need him to keep Miw out of trouble and free Shin a little. I also believe he is singlehandedly reviving people’s love for croptops.

If anyone’s wondering why I consider this guy pansexual when Wikipedia says bisexual, it’s because he literally says he doesn’t care about gender in relationships. I could be wrong, but that’s how I interpreted what he said.

Miw ( Lapassalan Jiravechsoontornkul / Mild). In a time when we are seeing more and more strong, independant female leads, Miw is the queen. She is definitly the source of strength of the relationship and has no time for anyone’s sh*t. She is bold, always has flawless makeup and outfits, and is never scared to speak her mind, tough and prepared to do anything to survive. She also honestly has some of the best lines in the show. But if this type of character puts you off, don’t run away because she’s more than just that. Miw has her own vulnerabilities, isn’t completely bulletproof and killing a man is not easy for her. There are reasons behind the strength she projects and her way of seeing the world, reasons she has to keep being strong, and that doesn’t stop her from bonding with other women over shared experiences, standing up for others, and comforting Neo and Shin when they hit their lows.

Shin (Tawan Vihokratana / Tay). Let me just say, you are guaranteed to fall in love with this boy, he is the soft and innocent one in the trio from a completley different world from the other two yet that doesn’t stop him from not wanting to be left behind and trying to understand. Shin is honestly the real hero of this story, he is so selfless and insecure and must be protected at all costs. Of course, the characters in the show know that which is why everyone is either trying to kidnap him or save him. But he isn’t just quiet and shy, he’s also smart and has his own bad*ss moments when Neo has being a jerk and Miw is just trying to survive. If Neo is the glue, Miw is their strength, then Shin is peacekeeper and balances out Neo and Miw’s outspoken personalities.

I do understand, though, that some may be a little less than satisfied with Shin’s ending. I felt like they really needed to develope or explore his relationships with Miw and Neo further or atleast as much as they seemed to for Miw and Neo.

In the end though we had quite a few cute moments with all three of them together and apart from that minor issue, I got nothing other than to cry over all those characters who suffered the director’s killing spree. Like seriously, is nothing safe?! So beware.

[veliseraptor]

Top 5 Nat moments

because I apparently hate myself I’m going to do what I did for Wanda and Loki when I did this and go with both comics and MCU moments.

COMICS

1. When she meets Laura Kinney and offers to train her (X-23 #20). I will never, ever not be bitter about the fact that we didn’t get Marjorie Liu’s series with the all female team (Black Widow, X-23, Mystique, and Electra), because augh. Could’ve had it all. But anyway, these panels: 

This is Natasha, who has a history of being exploited and controlled by others, reaching out to a young woman who is coming out of her own history of (even more) exploitation and control, who is figuring out who she is and that she’s a person and not just a weapon for other people. It’s Natasha offering mentorship to her. And there’s something just…very powerful about that - about a character who often works on her own, and is certainly perceived as a loner, reaching out to another character and offering her guidance. 

This is also in the context of her stepping in as part of breaking up a sex trafficking operation, which ties into another aspect of Natasha’s characterization in comics that I’ll get into later.

2. The whole interrogation in a fridge scene (Black Widow #4). I mean, the entirety of Name of the Rose (again, Marjorie Liu, she’s amazing) is a favorite moment, but this particular section will always stand out to me. 

There’s a great essay about it over at @fuckyeahblackwidow​, talking about how it plays with Natasha being literally in a fridge (a woman in a refrigerator, anyone?) and remaining totally in control of the situation throughout, ultimately turning it to her own advantage and revealing that getting here was part of her plan all along. It’s just gloriously done. I wrote an essay on a set of two panels from this scene for my art history class in college. It was great.

3. “I pick regret and kindness and mercy.” (Black Widow: Deadly Origin #4). I wouldn’t call this series as a whole ‘good’ but this part does always get me. I think because it has to do with the theme of choice, which I talk about a lot in my Black Widow Manifesto (linked below); the idea of being a hero not being part of an identity or something natural or automatic, but being a choice that’s made over and over again. 

That for Natasha, it’s her very past as a villain that makes her very aware of that choice, and how deliberate it has to be. The context of this specific bit is that a character has just basically accused her of being an opportunist who doesn’t care about right or wrong - that she just picks sides based on whoever she likes best at the time. And this is her counter.

It’s that last part that always sticks out to me: “I pick regret and kindness and mercy.” Because it’s all things that are “soft.” That can be seen as “weak.” And this is Natasha decisively claiming them as hers - something that she’s chosen, and always will continue to choose.

4. The one where she goes toe to toe with Red Skull (Avengers #386). I didn’t read this one until recently when I tripped over it in my full readthrough of the first volume of the Avengers comics (starting in 1963). And when I did, let me tell you, I was thrilled.

I mean, there it is, right there. Red Skull has been beating up other Avengers for most of this issue, taking them down one at a time, and Natasha knows that. And here he is calling her the weakest of them all, and she’s absolutely ready and going to throw down. Unafraid, and defiant, and scornful. I love it. I love it.

5. Any of the times Natasha stands up for women/girls. I won’t put all the scans in this post, but I’ll just choose one of them:

This is a theme throughout Natasha’s appearances - the way that she relates to other women and will step in to help them when they’re in danger. Natasha has a reputation both in and out of universe for being cold and aloof, but the fact is that she has a very deep and very strong compassionate and protective streak, particularly for other women, particularly for other women specifically in danger from men/the patriarchy. 

Whatever the perception of Natasha, or even, a lot of times, her self perception, she’s someone who has a great deal of heart for the people around her, and will always step up for the vulnerable.

Want a general “why I love comics!Natasha” manifesto with more favorite moments? Hey, I’ve got one for you.

MCU

It is too bad I am writing this before the actual Black Widow movie comes out when I could hopefully have all of these moments be from that. BUT in the meantime!

1. “Did I step on your moment?” There are three Winter Soldier moments on this list, and that is because, whatever my weird resentments toward Winter Soldier and the way fandom treats it, it is a movie that was really good for Natasha. And this is such a good one. 

It’s in a scene where Robert Redford is building toward his grand conclusion, is certain of his own victory, is at the top of his game - and then there’s Natasha. Stepping on his moment, having been standing in the room in disguise the whole time.  

2. “The truth is a matter of circumstances. It’s not all things to all people all the time, and neither am I.” This whole conversation with Steve is one of those ‘character defining’ moments I think about a lot, because it’s that dynamic of Natasha being a chameleon, and being very aware of the malleability of truth. Natasha lives in a world of shades of grey - not in terms of morality, even, necessarily, but in terms of definitions. Selfhood is flexible, identity is flexible, nothing is truly permanent or stable. Nothing lasts forever. 

And that’s something Natasha is very much at peace with. It’s part of her survival, and it’s also just part of how she sees the world. It’s a sadness, in some ways - but it’s also a strength. Natasha’s ability to be flexible is one of the things that gives her an advantage and makes her a survivor. She adapts, she changes to suit a situation. It’s not a matter of being ‘two-faced’ or whatever - it’s a matter of understanding that identity isn’t singular or unidimensional. 

Natasha has a very complicated and nuanced view of the world, and I feel like this conversation encapsulates some of that.

3. The highway fight in Winter Soldier. This is just...whenever we see Natasha absolutely unleash in a fight it’s super sexy, and this is probably my favorite version of that, because it is absolutely “Natasha fighting smart” and “Natasha going up against someone much stronger than she is, and doing pretty damn well for herself.”

4. Natasha-as-leader in Endgame. Okay, so Endgame ultimately did Natasha real dirty, but there were some good moments before then, and the one that stands out to me is the one early in the movie where Steve comes to see her and she is holding a meeting where she is coordinating efforts around the world, is clearly still tapped into the hero life, is trying to hold things together. Tony’s stepped out, Clint’s on a vengeance mission, Steve is trying (sort of) to do good things that aren’t Captain America things. Natasha’s still soldiering on, doing her best to staunch the bleeding.

And she’s clearly tired, and unhappy, but she will keep doing the work. Which is so very Natasha: it doesn’t matter, ultimately, what her personal feelings are. When there’s work to be done, she’ll do it.

5. The airport fight in Civil War. There are two moments in this that stick out to me - there’s the one with her and Clint (”we’re still friends, right?”) where she’s…idk, to me it reads a little like she’s still trying to hang on to both sides. I mean, it’s adorable, and also the fact that she and Clint are basically sparring with each other rather than actually fighting (Wanda calls Clint on it), but also there’s this sense that…Natasha’s never been in this for the ideology. She’s in it for the sake of doing what’s needed to keep her family alive and together.

Which is the second moment, obviously - when she stops T’Challa and lets Steve and Bucky escape. You can see that she knows what it means for her as far as her status, and as far as her other relationships. But she does it anyway, because she knows Steve won’t stop, won’t give up, and in order to keep him alive and safe she needs to let him get out of there - and also trusts that he’s not just running away, but running for a reason. That he has a purpose, and knows what he’s doing.

It’s a lot of faith that she’s giving, and a significant sacrifice she’s making at the same time. 

Runner ups included anything with Auntie Nat, the Clint v. Natasha scene from The Avengers that I mentioned before, her intro scene with Bruce that I also mentioned before, and the “she’s not alone” moment from Infinity War.

I JUST LOVE NATASHA A LOT OKAY

[carolinesiede]

Reflecting on 2020

The strangest thing about 2020 was how familiar much of it felt: Working from home, extended periods of isolation, weeks and months blending together. To a much lesser degree, those are things I experience each year as a freelancer. And while I suspect it will take awhile before the full extent of the trauma we’ve all lived through this year fully sets in, right now I’m mostly focused on gratitude. I’m grateful for the health of my loved ones. Grateful I already had a work-from-home routine to maintain during the pandemic. And grateful that I was able to quarantine with my family for much of the year—which had its challenges but also its rewards too.

In my 2019 year-end post I wrote about feeling like my career was finally on an upward trajectory after several years of plateauing. This year obviously offered some new wrinkles in that regard. I made significantly less money and felt familiar fears about how sustainable this career actually is. But having less work also gave me more time to focus on the actual craft of writing. I feel like I reached a new level in terms of voice, clarity, and the ability to self-edit. I'm the sort of person who constantly (arguably, obsessively) strives to be better, and it’s rewarding to feel like that hard work is finally slowly starting to pay off.

In addition to devoting my quarantine time to mastering a favorite curry recipe, getting really into the Enneagram, finally learning to French braid hair, and rewatching all of New Girl, I also had some really cool opportunities scattered throughout the year. I interviewed John Barrowman about his surprise return to Doctor Who, which felt like a real milestone for me. I also contributed to the Los Angeles Times’ list of TV shows to binge-watch during quarantine, which appeared both online and in print. And thanks to everything going virtual this year, I was able to attend a press panel for the fifth season of This Is Us, which is the sort of thing I’m not usually able to do as a Chicago-based critic. 

My career is always a juggling act between film and TV, and this year made me appreciate how valuable it is to be able to move seamlessly between both worlds. I took on new TV assignments covering the first season of Stargirl and the second season of The Umbrella Academy, both of which were a blast to write about. And while I didn’t watch quite as many films as I did in my insane catch-up year last year, I did fill in some more major blindspots. I also contributed to The A.V. Club’s list of the best films of 2000 and shared my own ballot over on Letterboxd. Oh, and I set up a Letterboxd this year too!

Elsewhere, I made my debut on Bustle and The Takeout, and ended the year with a Polygon article about “Kind Movies” that pretty much sums up my entire ethos on storytelling. I was also named a Top Critic by Rotten Tomatoes, which was a real honor. But the pride and joy of my career remains my rom-com column, When Romance Met Comedy. I devoted a whopping 49,000 words to analyzing 25 different romantic comedies this year. And I’m really pleased with how the column has grown and with the positive feedback I’ve received.

I have to admit, I sometimes worry that year-end highlight reels like this one can make my life seem easy or glamorous in a way that doesn’t reflect what it’s like to actually live through it. I'm tremendously lucky to get to do what I do, but I also struggle a lot—both with the logistics of this career and with bigger questions about what value it brings to the world. My goal is to approach 2021 with a greater sense of intentionality. I want to be more thoughtful in my career choices, more purposeful in how I use social media, and more active in my activism and politics. I’d also like to do 20 push-ups a day everyday for the whole year, but we’ll see how long that resolution actually lasts.

Finally, on a sadder note, one other defining experience of the year was the loss of my dear internet friend Seb Patrick, who I’ve known for years through the Cinematic Universe podcast. Seb created a wonderfully positive nerd space online, and was a big part of my early quarantine experience thanks to the Avengers watchalongs I did with the CU gang in the spring. I’m so grateful for all the fun pop culture chats we got to have throughout the years, several of which are linked below. Seb is tremendously missed, and there’s a fund for his family here.

As we head into 2021, I’ll leave you with wishes for a Happy New Year and a roundup of all the major writing and podcasts I did in 2020. If you enjoyed my work, you can support me on Kofi or PayPal. Or you can just share some of your favorite pieces with your friends! That really means a lot.

My 15 favorite films of 2020

My 15 favorite TV shows of 2020

Op-eds, Features, and Interviews

Women Pioneered The Film Industry 100 Years Ago. Why Aren’t We Talking About Them? [Bustle]

2020 is the year of the Kind Movie — and it couldn’t have come at a better time [Polygon]

Make a grocery store game plan for stress-free shopping [The Takeout]

What’s Going On: A primer on the call to defund the police [Medium]

Doctor Who’s John Barrowman on the return of Captain Jack Harkness [The A.V. Club]

Episodic TV Coverage

Doctor Who S12

This Is Us S4 and S5

Supergirl S5

Stargirl S1

The Umbrella Academy S2

The Crown S4

NBC’s Dr. Seuss’ The Grinch Musical!

When Romance Met Comedy

Is The Ugly Truth the worst romantic comedy ever made?

Working Girl’s message is timeless, even if the hair and the shoulder pads aren’t

You’ve Got Mail and the power of the written (well, typed) word

Love & Basketball was a romantic slam dunk

How did My Big Fat Greek Wedding make so much money?

America eased into the ’60s with the bedroom comedies of Doris Day and Rock Hudson

I can’t stop watching Made Of Honor

Notting Hill brought two rom-com titans together

It’s time to rediscover one of Denzel Washington’s loveliest and most under-seen romances

Something’s Gotta Give is the ultimate quarantine rom-com

20 years ago, But I’m A Cheerleader reclaimed camp for queer women

On its 60th anniversary, Billy Wilder’s The Apartment looks like an indictment of toxic masculinity

The Wedding Planner made rom-com stars out of Jennifer Lopez and Matthew McConaughey

After 25 years, Clueless is still our cleverest Jane Austen adaptation

William Shakespeare invented every romantic comedy trope we love today

Edward Norton made his directorial debut by walking a priest, a rabbi, and a Dharma into a Y2K rom-com

The forgotten 1970s romantic comedy that raged against our broken, racist system

His Girl Friday redefined the screwball comedy at 240 words per minute

Before Wonder Woman soared into theaters, the hacky My Super Ex-Girlfriend plummeted to Earth

Dirty Dancing spoke its conscience with its hips

The rise of Practical Magic as a spooky season classic

In a dire decade for the genre, Queen Latifah became a new kind of rom-com star

Years before Elsa and Anna, Tangled reinvigorated the Disney princess tradition

Palm Springs is the definitive 2020 rom-com

Celebrate Christmas with the subversive 1940s rom-com that turned gender roles on their head

The A.V. Club Film & TV Reviews

Netflix’s To All The Boys sequel charms, though not quite as much as the original

The Photograph only occasionally snaps into focus

Jane Austen's Emma gets an oddball, sumptuous, and smart new adaptation

Pete Davidson delivers small-time charms in Big Time Adolescence

Council Of Dads crams a season of schmaltzy storytelling into its premiere

In Belgravia, Downton Abbey’s creator emulates Dickens to limited success

Netflix’s Love Wedding Repeat adds some cringe to the rom-com

Netflix takes another shot at Cyrano de Bergerac with queer love triangle The Half Of It

We Are Freestyle Love Supreme is a feel-good origin story for Lin-Manuel Miranda’s first troupe

Sara Bareilles’ melodic Apple TV+ series Little Voice is still finding itself

Netflix’s sexist rom-com sensation gets a minor upgrade in The Kissing Booth 2

With Howard, Disney+ movingly honors the lyricist who gave the Little Mermaid her voice

The Broken Hearts Gallery tries to find catharsis in heartbreak

Netflix’s ghostly musical series Julie And The Phantoms hits some charming tween high notes

After We Collided slides toward R-rated camp—but not far enough

Holidate is a bawdy start to Netflix’s holiday rom-com slate

Kristen Stewart celebrates the Happiest Season in a pioneering queer Christmas rom-com

Isla Fisher gets her own Enchanted in the Disney Plus fairy tale Godmothered

Podcast Appearances

Debating Doctor Who: “Orphan 55”

It Pod To Be You: The Wedding Singer

Reality Bomb: Defending Doctor Who’s “Closing Time”

The Televerse: Spotlight on Doctor Who Season 12

You Should See The Other Guy: The Ugly Truth

Only Stupid Answers: Stargirl’s season finale

Motherfoclóir: Ireland and the Hollywood Rom-Com

Called in to Nerdette’s Clueless retrospective episode

Cinematic Universe Appearances

Cinematic Universe: Superman IV: The Quest For Peace

Cinematic Universe: Birds of Prey

Cinematic Universe: Infinity War watchalong

Cinematic Universe: Endgame watchalong

Cinematic Universe: Terminator 2

Cinematic Universe: Josie and the Pussycats

Cinematic Universe: The Cuppies 2020 (Cuppies of Cuppies)

And here are similar year-end wrap-ups I did in 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, and 2013.

[angrycowboy]

A couple weeks ago, I decided that for my birthday, I was going to attempt to put together some of my favorite things this fandom has created. I say *some* because this is an incomplete list. There are so many wonderful and talented creators in this fandom that this list would go on forever otherwise. If I have I ever reblogged something of yours, flailed in the tags, reached out to via DM or sent you a message, talked on discord or even Twitter, know that I love and adore not only the things you’ve created, but you yourself as part of this fandom.

And now, without further ado…

FIC

memento by @nielrian

I was obsessed with the idea of coming up with the backstory to the photo we see Michael look at in 1x02. When was it taken? Does Alex have a copy? Did Alex bring his with him to the other side of the world? How often do you think Michael looked at his own copy? And Nicki took a little prompt of mine, and wrote an achingly gorgeous piece about one photograph, and it’s significance to Malex in less than 700 words.

a little something to make me sweeter by @partsofthesamecosmicbeing

Camluca + D.E.B.S. is like a recipe for the perfect fic. I freaking love the movie, and when I saw this fic pop up on tumblr one day? I couldn’t even contain my excitement (seriously, the tags on my reblog were just me flailing wildly because it felt like Ly had reached into my brain and written something I wanted to read before I even knew it myself). Casting Alex as Scud and including Malex in the mix just made me love this fic even more.

And the Sun Rose Red by @michaels-blackhat

A Miluca Kissing Kate Barlow AU? SIGN. ME. UP. I adore Christi, and I adore her writing. One day she was like, “miluca kissing kate barlow au?” and the only appropriate answer to that is HECK YES. Michael/Maria is also a dynamic that just works for this AU, given their canon relationship, and Michael’s penchant for fixing things and Maria’s desire to have someone just be there for her. *runs off to re-read fic*

something broken in this town by @irolltwenties

Okay so, Meagn is one of my favorite people in this fandom. We kinda ramble at each other, and one day this happened where she started talking about the parents. About the relationship Jesse, Jim, and Mimi had as kids, as teenagers, as young adults. How they got sucked into aliens and government conspiracies. How they became the people we see and hear about in S1. If you’ve ever had the privilege of talking with Meagn, you know how amazing her mind is, how she takes these characters and the mere scraps we’ve been given in canon with some of them, and creates entire lives for them, and it’s beautiful.

open up my eager eyes by @haloud

It took me a while to get into Mylex, but apparently it was just because I hadn’t read Hal’s series yet. I’m usually terrible about multi-shipping, but once I find a writer that nails the characters down, I could probably read anything they write. And Hal writes all three of them perfectly. (I mean, Hal is just a phenomenal writer in general, but I digress.)

META

Michael’s bisexuality by @chasingshhadows

There’s been a lot said in the fandom about Michael’s bisexuality and how it’s been portrayed. While the show was airing, I was having trouble finding people who felt the same way I did about how it was being shown - that it wasn’t problematic, but that it was good and accurate. Not to mention that it made me feel seen. I tried writing out what I was feeling but nothing sounded right - until Chasing wrote this piece. It was everything I’d been trying to find the words to express, and it remains one of my absolutely favorite pieces of her writing.

Semiotics of Roswell by @hannah-writes

Hannah did this amazing thing where she took the camera work of RNM and analyzed the shit out of it. And in some moments of doubt, where I was still worried about Malex because of the direction the show had been taking, Hannah’s semiotics (or better known as “Why Malex is Endgame”) pointed out how the camerawork for Malex and Echo is very similar, not to mention deliberate as fuck.

Maria Can’t Catch a Break by @ober-affen-geil

I adore Maria Deluca. She has gotten such a bad rap in the fandom because of the “love triangle” business. But fandom in general has done her dirty in that without removing the shipper goggles it is very hard to see that the show has established Maria as a character in her own right, just as much as it has with Kyle and Alex. And that’s why I love Riley’s meta about everything that Maria is dealing with, what she’s going through, and what it’s been like for her to be the one left behind 10 years ago.

GIFSETS/EDITS

i would know him in death, at the end of the world by @vlamito

I don’t even remember now who told me I had to read The Song of Achilles - it was pre-RNM hyperfixation, but I absolutely loved it (I definitely cried while reading it). And then I saw this gifset, oh mah gawd. Mich just has this ability to find quotes from other media and fit them seemlessly into Malex. And the moments she chooses for her gifsets are utter perfection. I think everyone has probably seen this now, but it’s a gifset I just keep going back to over and over again.

Are you okay? by @maxortecho

So I adore Echo. There is something about their softness, the way they look at each other, the way they act around each other that is just beautiful. Mo made this set, and pointed out in the tags that Liz pushes her arms underneath Max like she’s going to hug him, and it broke me. Like, I thought that scene in the finale was heartbreaking enough, but pointing that out? It hurts and I loved it.

Leading Ladies Appreciation by @lsobelevans

Lucie does some amazing things with color that truly make her edits stand out, and stick out in your mind. And it’s one of the things I love about her gif sets especially - it makes them uniquely hers, her own signature if you will. And this edit is no different - the splashes of color, the texture used for the background, the highlighting of the leading ladies is stunning work. 

Same page/Different book by @bisexualalienblast

Let’s just say that picking ONE gifset of Amanda’s is an impossibility for me, okay? Amanda’s sets are the reason I wanted to learn how to gif - her gifs are beautifully colored, they’re crisp, she always picks the best fonts, they’re smooth, and her ideas are stellar. Anyway, she more recently made this set, which just so perfectly illustrates Malex’s issue IN TWO GIFS. That’s it. Their entire problem in S1, right there. Beautiful.

VIDEO

Juice | Women of Roswell by @isakvaltersnake

Katie is a wizard with the video editing. She’s going to be a force when we’ve got more than one season of footage to play around with. And this video is fun and hot and LOOK AT THE WOMEN. They are smart, they are kind, they are flirty, they have agency, and they’re all hella sexy.

Weird Science | Liz & Michael - Science Bros by @soberqueerinthewild

Hands down, this is one of my favorite videos from the fandom, and definitely one of my favorite things Christina has made (though I basically love everything she does). It’s silly and ridiculous and 100% fun. She found every bit of footage in S1 and matched it to the song perfectly. It’s impossible to watch this video and not smile and laugh - it will instantly brighten your day.

MISC

RNM Texts From Last Night by @audreyblanche

I am slightly biased here, because while Irena came up with the idea, I encouraged her to actually go through with it, promising her that the fandom would enjoy it. So because of that it’s next to impossible for me to pick a favorite out of all the ones she’s done for this series (though the one where we settled on the Camluca ship name, as well as one I specifically requested for Malex come close), and I’m hoping that with the new season (and when she returns from hiatus), she can pick this up again.

[wishiwereafrog]

Chris evans should be mad at disney, they did cap dirty. They had a good set up to give him actual character flaws, maybe some depth, and they just didn't. Cap is a white guy who grew up in the 20s-30s, he's not gonna be Immediately Woke, especially considering that he missed out on the whole civil rights movement. We even see in the first Captain America movie that he has preconceived notions of women, asking peggy why a "beautiful dame" such as herself would want to serve her country, but it is never brought up again. I mean he spends his next movie with a woman (natasha) and two black men (fury and sam). Despite this cap never once has a moment where he has to check himself. Nothing about 21st century decorum has to be explained to him and it turns his character arc from "I can learn from my team how not to devalue them even if subconsciously and that helps me be a better leader" and "my core values are strengthened by the political and moral views of the era I'm now living in which helps me move on and adjust better to this time because the belief in equality for all people I hold isn't taboo anymore" to "I'm big now so I guess I'm calling the shots now that I don't have asthma". They could keep cap morally sympathetic while acknowledging that he has room to grow and become an even better person because his morals are no longer devalued by the political views of the surrounding public. But they didnt do that for the sole purpose of keeping cap idealogically pure

And that sucks cause chris evans is a really good actor and they could've put him in situations where cap had to actually learn things, which in turn could've lead to some really good scenes. They wasted chris evans' talent by not doing that. The mindset of making cap good and right all the time also lessens the weight of when he could maybe be wrong sometimes. Like in civil war where it would seem kind of weird that cap, a military man, would want to continue to operate with no chain of command or checks and balances while also disregarding the Geneva Convention. (Side note: I would've like to see a scene where cap finds out how the war ends and how many people died and then gets all sad that he couldn't save everyone but again, we're not talking about what happened in the 70 YEARS he missed.) Even when cap could possibly, maybe he wrong about the accords, he's only doing it cause the government is after bucky. They're with each other till the end'a the line, right? Yeah that exchange and the line "Family. Stability. The guy who wanted all of that went in the ice 75 years ago." both get outrightly disregarded in Endgame where he leaves everyone to go spend his days with peggy, a woman who he's had his arc with. In fact, the one good thing about that was that he moved on from her and went on with his life. So the ending in the first captain America and him sacrificing his honor and good name to save Bucky both and up having lesser impacts on the story because whatever he ends up with peggy anyways. Their dance is a cute moment and that's it. It's a nothing character arc with a side of emotional regression. They all but ruined the journey of watching the captain america movies by giving cap t h a t ending. In fact it's almost funny how marvel apparently didn't know that they were doing this considering that this exact situation was one of the themes in age of ultron. "Humans always create what they fear..." They feared making cap unsympathetic so much that they made him overly sympathetic to the point where one of the only things saving cap from being boring was chris evans being a good actor and doing the best he could with what he was given. In short: Marvel's approach to character growth with cap was bad and they should feel bad

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Of Love and Of Loss (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Prompt: Can you do where Nat was like an elder sister for y/n and after she died in the Endgame, the reader starts drinking a lot, so her girlfriend Wanda supports her...?:)

Words: 2370

Warnings: Alcoholism, language, angst, Endgame spoilers

-X-

When Clint came back without Natasha, you knew. You had no idea why you knew, but you did. She was gone – and she wasn’t coming back.

Your knees buckled, but Bruce’s strong arms caught you before you hit the ground. Tears flooded your eyes, overflowing down your cheeks and you sobbed into Bruce’s chest. His grip was firm, his own eyes filling with tears as he thought about the woman he truly had loved.

They were never going to get their happy ending.

You didn’t know what to do. Natasha had been your best friend – the closest thing you’d had to a sister – and now she was dead. She’d been your confidant, your mentor. She was the only person who’d completely understood your nightmares; knew what it was like to have your past haunt you. There was just as much red in your ledger as there was in hers and she’d tried so hard to help you come to grips with that.

Hell, she was the reason you’d had the courage to ask Wanda out all those years ago – had gotten you through the heartbreak of losing Wanda – but now…

Now you were alone in a world that was crumbling and you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t even have a freaking body to bury. She was just gone, like she’d never existed. And that wasn’t fair! She deserved a hero’s sendoff but instead her body was left on some planet like she was trash. You were angry and heartbroken and alone…

So. Fucking. Alone.

-X-

When the Compound was destroyed, it broke your heart all over again. Every memory of Nat was in that building. All of her things were now rubble, crushed under tons and tons of rock. There was no way you’d ever be able to dig them out and all you wanted to do was scream.

Your rage filled you as you bolted into the fray on Thanos’ army, killing as many of his men and monsters as you could. You might have only been human – just a former assassin whose best friends were knives and guns – but you were going to avenge Natasha one way or another. You were going to make her proud.

You didn’t find Wanda until after Thanos was defeated. You had seen her briefly as she was taking apart Thanos, but lost her when the ship fired. You’d taken refuge behind a large piece of what was formerly the Compound and by the time the madness cleared, she had disappeared. You searched for her in between killing his cronies and you were fairly certain you caught a glimpse of her in the throng of women that Carol was leading, but it was only for a moment. You were too far away to join them so you did what you did best: fight.

After the dust had cleared and Tony was gone, you found her. She was standing a few feet away with Clint, her face dirty and bloodied though you didn’t see any marks on her. Running over to her, you tossed your arms around her, nearly knocking her to the ground. Tears were shed but for once, they were full of joy instead of sorrow. She was here, in your arms, and you felt like maybe you weren’t so alone anymore.

-X-

You found yourself at Clint’s after Tony’s funeral. The former Avenger had been kind enough to offer you and Wanda a place to stay since the Compound was no longer a viable option. You liked his house – and subsequently the warmth his family instilled in it – but it wasn’t home.

You didn’t have a home anymore.

Curled up in bed with Wanda, you stared at the wall blankly. Your head was on her chest and her arms were secure around you, keeping you trapped against her. You thought that being in your lover’s arms again would help you sleep – finally sleep after five years of broken nightmares and sweaty mornings – but you couldn’t close your eyes. All you could think about was the time you’d lost with Wanda and how Natasha would never experience this again. She’d never know the joy of sleeping in a lover’s embrace, she’d never get to see the people she considered family again.

You wondered if this room had been hers when she stayed with Clint. It probably was and that made the ache in your chest so much worse. Thanos had taken so much from you – from the world – and it wasn’t fair. He’d just disappeared into nothingness but his presence would be felt for a lifetime.

Deciding that you couldn’t stay in this room any longer, you carefully extracted yourself from Wanda’s hold and wandered out of the room. You crept silently through the house and made your way downstairs and into the Bartons’ kitchen. Yawning, you started searching the cabinets for something to snack on. Maybe something in your belly would make you feel better.

Opening the cabinet that held the cereal, you grabbed a box and tugged it out. You started to close the door when something caught your eye. In the very back was a bottle of…

Whiskey?

Setting the box of cereal aside, you cautiously dragged the bottle out of the cabinet, doing your absolute best not to make a sound. Once it was in your possession, you studied the label for a moment. Should you really be doing this? Drinking away your pain like this? Natasha would be so disappointed in you.

But Nat’s not here, you mused, taking the bottle over to the couch.

Settling yourself on the edge, you stared at the whiskey and sighed. Popping the top off, you took a long swig. It burned your throat, threatening to choke you but you forced it down. You weren’t much of a drinker but here you were, clutching a bottle to your chest with tears in your eyes mourning someone everyone else seemed to forget.

Realistically, you knew that wasn’t true but that’s how it felt. You understood why Tony received such a farewell – he’d earned it – but Natasha hadn’t gotten a sendoff. No memorial, no discussion of what a great person she was…nothing. Hell, the only person who had really talked about her since her passing was Clint but even he didn’t really have a lot to say. You guessed it was because he was the one to see her body at the bottom of the cliff.

That had to haunt him.

Grunting quietly, you took another sip of whiskey. It didn’t hurt the same way it had the first time and you were thankful for that. You’d really hate to wake up the house and them catch you with the bottle in your hand. You’d hate to see the disappointment in Wanda’s eyes or the knowing in Clint’s.

You drank quite a bit of the whiskey, only stopping when the world was a little hazy and you could feel the world spinning. Standing up, you swayed dangerously and waddled over to the cabinet, slipping the bottle back inside. You tucked it behind a different box of cereal and promised yourself that you weren’t going to do this again. It was just a onetime thing.

Slowly trudging upstairs, you managed to crawl back into bed with Wanda and slide into her arms, your heavy head falling on her shoulder. She hummed contentedly in her sleep and gripped you tightly to her, thoroughly trapping you. You sighed, nuzzling her shirt and inhaling her sweet scent. God, you had missed her so much. Five years without her had nearly killed you.

You could only pray that you never lost her again.

The next night, you found yourself in the same position as the day before. You were sitting on the couch, staring down the neck of the bottle. You weren’t even sure what you were mourning this time. Tears were trickling across your flushed cheeks, dripping onto the couch but you didn’t care. All you cared about was the awful pain in your chest. It was crippling and a part of you wanted to throw up. This was a terrible way to live, but you didn’t know what else to do.

You couldn’t talk to Wanda about all of your feelings. She’d lost five years; she had enough to deal with. Between losing Vision’s friendship and having five years taken from her, she didn’t need to struggle with your problems too.

Taking a huge drink of the whiskey, you stared out the window. You could see the moonlight drifting through the curtains and you smiled sadly. You remembered all the nights you’d spent sitting under the stars with Wanda and Natasha, their arms around you and their words flowing through your ears like water.

You wished you’d paid more attention in those moments.

Admittedly downing half the bottle that night wasn’t a great plan but it happened anyways. You barely made it into your room before passing out, the stink of booze clinging to you. You reeked of alcohol and, in the morning as you laid asleep – a trickle of drool dribbling out of your mouth – Wanda awoke and frowned. She couldn’t exactly place the smell, but you didn’t smell good. Not like you normally did. Shrugging, she pressed a kiss to the side of your head and rolled out of bed, not thinking too much of it.

It wasn’t until she started smelling it on you every morning that she started to worry. She didn’t know why you didn’t smell like yourself, but it bothered her. She knew you weren’t cheating on her – you’d waited five years for her after all – but you weren’t acting like yourself either. You were sluggish and light sensitive and if she didn’t know any better, she would have assumed you were hung over.

And you were.

After you finished off the bottle of whiskey, you’d managed to hunt up another bottle of liquor. It was hard, finding alcohol in Clint’s house, but he had a few stashed away and you were determined to collect them all.

A week into your bingeing, Wanda had enough. She was determined to figure out why you were acting the way you were. So, she pretended to fall asleep and when you snuck out of bed, she followed you. She lingered at the top of the stairs, her nose scrunched in worry as she saw you take your seat on the couch with another bottle of alcohol in your hand. You cracked it open and took a long drink, your face marred with disgust as it touched your tongue.

“What are you doing?” she asked quietly as she walked into the living room, startling you so bad that you almost dumped the entire bottle over.

“Son of a bitch,” you hissed, wiping liquor off your pajama pants.

Wanda stopped beside the couch, her eyes soft as she gazed at you. Your eyes were rimmed red and you looked so lost – so defeated. “Malysh…”

You choked on a sob, your hands trembling as they covered your face. You didn’t know what to say to her. She looked so sympathetic and understanding and it broke something inside you.

Taking a seat beside you, Wanda tugged you into an embrace, humming gently as she stroked your hair. Your tears soaked her shirt but she didn’t care. All she cared about was her broken partner crying. You were so upset, your hiccups wracking your ribs painfully.

“Talk to me, malysh,” Wanda begged, kissing your temple.

Once you could talk again, words started spilling from your quivering lips. How lost you had felt without her, admitting that you’d wished you could have joined her more times than you could count. Your voice broke and your heart ached but it felt good to get it out.

You also told her about how Natasha’s death had affected you so deeply. The death of someone you loved like a sister was crippling. All you wanted was for her to come back and Wanda understood that feeling. She’d wanted the same thing when Pietro died. She’d dreamed of him for months; dreamed of him walking into her room with his usual smug smile and thick accent.

“Oh, lyubov moya,” Wanda cooed, her forehead resting against yours.

You sniffled, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Brows furrowed in confusion, Wanda asked, “Why?”

“Because you’ve lost so much! You lost five years and your friendship with Vision and your brother and I didn’t want to put all of my problems on you!” you cried, more tears replacing the ones you’d just cleared off your face.

Wanda cupped your cheeks, her thumbs catching the falling tears. “You are my girlfriend,” she replied fiercely, “Your hurt and your fears and your anger are things I need to know. I love you, malysh, and I want to know these things because they’re a part of you. I don’t only want the good parts. It’s okay to hurt.”

You nodded weakly. “Okay.”

She hugged you tightly, her face in your neck as she squeezed you. “Natasha was a big part of your life. I understand that. It’s okay to miss her, but she wouldn’t want you to drink yourself to death. She would want you to live for her. She would want you to have a full life.”

You knew that, but hearing it from Wanda really made it sink in. She was right. Natasha wouldn’t want you to waste your life. She would want you to be happy – be happy with Wanda, with life.

Inhaling deeply, you buried your face in Wanda’s hair. “You’re right.”

You sat there for a while, soaking in your girlfriend’s warmth. For once, the tightness in your chest had lessened and you felt like you could finally breathe again. Things weren’t perfect – they weren’t going to be for a long time – but with Wanda at your side, you knew things were going to be okay.

“I owe Clint a lot of liquor,” you murmured, earning a soft laugh from Wanda.

She nodded, her arms tightening around your waist. “We’ll go buy him some tomorrow.”

For the first time that night, you smiled.

Yeah, everything was going to be okay.

[occasionalfics]

after the end

main masterlist | thor masterlist | taglist | ko-fi | ao3

For: Me because I was not pleased with the treatment of My Boy™ in Endgame. So I decided to give him a story I did like.

Pairing: Fat!Thor x Asgardian!Reader

A/N: My Fat Boy™ deserved so much better. So I’m giving it to him. All the love. Also I’ve been working on this since I saw Endgame and that was like...two months ago? I’m only a little sorry I took so long. This became a lot more than it was originally meant to be.

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT (just one section, but still), NSFW/18+ CONTENT AHEAD. Also a healthy helping of angst and depression. But also. Fluff. This is me we’re talking about. Hi, welcome if you’re new. This warning is indicative of everything I write.

Words: 9,502

The thing about rebuilding a civilization with less than half the population is that no one feels as though they can grieve what they’ve lost because everyone is grieving. No one speaks of the dead - a very un-Asgardian thing to do - and no one speaks to the King.

New Asgard is a very different place from the one in which you grew up. You know why - you blame no one person save Thanos for that, but even he is not the only one to blame. Hela had a part in this, too. No one blames the King except for the King himself.

That’s not made clear to you until the Valkyrie approaches you, about a year into the new settlement. She asks what your position in Asgard had been because you work much more slowly than the other women.

“I was one of Queen Frigga’s Ladies,” you tell her. But Queen Frigga died before the Convergence, and that was almost a decade ago. “And, in her absence, Loki kept me in the palace as a maid.”

The Valkyrie nods. “And you...liked that lifestyle?”

You shrug as a horn blasts from out on the ocean. The briny smell of the water fills the small town, permeating every sweater and pair of jeans you now own. “It was a living.”

The Valkyrie turns to a wooden shack, high on the hill behind town. The King’s shack. The place he’s hidden himself away with only the company of the rock fellow and the smaller, jelly-looking friend. Somehow, even the Valkyrie has not been to the shack often, though that may have much more to do with her work than her relation to the King.

She asks if you’d like to resume your old position. She must know, as everyone does, that some semblance of normalcy is imperative to the survival of whoever is left.

The thought of being in a palace makes you almost swoon, until you remember that there is no palace. There is no place for the King to be above all others, except that his shack is higher than the rest of the town. He has insisted on being seen as the same as all others, that there are no true Kings on Midgard anymore, and he intends to not uproot the common traditions of the place they now all occupy.

So why, then, would his advisor ask you to be his maid?

Still, you accept. It is familiar to serve the royal family, no matter what form it’s taken. It’s a kindness on the part of the Valkyrie to seek you out for this honor.

At least, you think so until you are brought into the shack.

It wreaks of spoiled food and days-old warm mead. Sweaters and hats, boxes and crates are all piled in the narrow walkways. There’s shouting from another room. The Valkyrie just brings you through it all into a den, where the rock and the squishy one are playing a game on the television. The King sits in a rocking chair in the corner, nodding mindlessly as he grips an aluminium can in one hand. He’s bare on top, soft and round where you know he was once hard and sculpted. The dark, unflattering pants he wears do nothing to hide the sadness he must be feeling.

The Valkyrie explains the situation; that you’re staying to clean up, that the King has very little say in the matter, and that he should at least be nice to you. You’re doing him a favor.

You bow when she leaves because the King stares at you.

“I recognize you,” he says, his words soft on their edges, like his body is.

“I was one of your mother’s ladies, your Majesty.” You stand straight as the rock man yells out at something on the television.

The King lingers on you for a second, then turns to the game. He doesn’t look back.

You get to work.

--

Weeks go by. You silently work, scrubbing floors when no one is in a room, doing laundry whenever it piles up, cleaning dishes three times a day. The King grows softer and rounder, quieter than you remember him ever having been. Korg, the rock man, and Miek, the squishy one, try to get him to engage in their game playing, but mostly, he sleeps, drinks, eats, and repeats.

You try not to show how much you pity him. But you plan what you’ll say, should he notice.

You do not pity him for his physical state. Everyone in New Asgard has changed physically - most have grown softer than they were. The Mighty Volstaag, were he still alive, might be proud.

You are sad for the King because, clearly, he feels a heavy failure weighing him down. There is guilt that lines his face. Darkness in the one natural eye of his and the quiet he keeps when he looks out the window beside his rocking chair.

But he never really notices you. Most days, he sits and drinks and eats and sleeps while you clean, and then you leave for the night before starting over again the next morning.

--

On a morning about two months in, the King sends Korg and Miek into the nearest town with the Valkyrie. You’re not sure how he’s going to disguise them, since you’re sure the Midgardians won’t appreciate their alien appearances, but the King insists disguises aren’t necessary.

Once they’re gone, you’re alone with the King for the first time.

His hair is dirty and mangled. His beard is unkempt, too long, unbraided. His fingernails look as if he hasn’t washed his hands in weeks. And yet, he simply sits in his rocking chair and stares out the window, watching small boats as they pass through the harbor below.

You throw away a third pizza box, and when you come back into the room, he actually turns and notices you.

“Do you like it here?” he asks.

You stand a little taller, just like you would if his mother had asked you a question. “Yes, your Majesty,” you respond, tipping your head down.

He sighs, traps his lips behind a hand. Then he asks, “What’s your name?”

When you tell him, he nods.

“Well, (Y/N). Please call me Thor. I’m…”

You wait for him to finish, but he doesn’t. Eventually, he turns back to the window and goes into a world where you no longer exist once more.

--

Sometime the next week, you bring in groceries. Fish from the market, vegetables from your own garden. Korg and Miek don’t notice, but Thor does.

He only says anything about it while you cook. “What’re you doing?” he asks.

You don’t even look at him. “When your mother was sick, on the rare occasion that happened, I would cook for her,” you tell him. As you stir a pan of peppers, you smile softly to yourself. “Some of the vegetables in my garden were ready to be picked, so I thought I’d prepare dinner.”

“But that’s not part of your duties,” he says.

You shrug, purposefully ignoring the fact that no one had ever given you a strict set of duties to look after. “I don’t mind.”

The only sound for some time is the oil frying vegetables and fish. And the little tune you hum to yourself as you go, but you hardly register it at all.

Thor does, though. He sits at his unused kitchen table and watches you carefully, wondering what in the world could make you want to cook for him. You’ve seen the things he heats. You’ve seen how he’s been eating, and how he’s left his waste to rot.

He’s embarrassed. He sits back in the chair, which creaks beneath him, and immediately tenses.

But you don’t notice. You’re in your own little world, chopping and preparing and plating everything in due time. It’s nice to make something for once, rather than just clean up clutter.

You turn to the small kitchen table and stop short. Thor is still sitting there, looking right at you. It’s hard to tell if his gaze is as empty as you think it is - there’s something in the way his eyes drift from yours that signifies guilt or shame.

But you smile. You bring two plates to the table, put one in front of him and another across from him, then turn to find silverware.

He only has plastic forks in a box beside the sink. It’ll do, for now.

“I made enough for your guests,” you tell him. “Do Kronans eat fish?” You laugh to yourself at the thought, returning to the table with one of the forks outstretched to Thor.

He takes it gently. Shrugs. “I haven’t seen him eat much, actually,” he says, his tone a little...lost, if you had to guess.

It barely crosses your mind that he might be put-off by you joining him at his table. You, a Lady in Waiting, nothing more than a fancy servant, sitting with anyone in the Royal family outside of your direct charge.

Only he is your charge now. And...you’re both well aware of how easily the standards of Old Asgard’s society have been broken since Ragnarok.

Still, he doesn’t eat at first. He just watches you, and you pretend not to notice. You nod after your first bite, then raise a napkin to your lips before you’re comfortable telling him, “Tastes quite good, if I do say so myself.”

That earns you the tiniest smile you’ve ever seen from Thor, but at least it’s something.

He digs into the food after you’ve gone back in.

--

Cooking becomes a weekly occurrence. Once a week, you bring whatever vegetables you’ve got that are ready to eat and whatever meat or fish you’re able to get in the market and make a nice lunch. You always make enough for Miek and Korg, too, but they never join you and Thor, so he keeps all of the leftovers for the rest of the week.

He seems to genuinely enjoy the food you make. You don’t know if it’s actually that good, or if it’s...because you are cooking for him.

But you don’t let that idea flatter you too much. Thor doesn’t talk about himself much, so you really don’t know him as well as you might think.

Every day, you realize there’s less and less clutter for you to straighten. On the one hand, you’re pleased to see that the Valkyrie’s worries are being taken care of. But on the other...you very much like this position you’ve been given.

It only takes a few days for you to realize it’s because you like being around Thor. You tell yourself that’s due to the fact that it’s an honor to care for a member of the Royal family, but another few days go by and you know that’s not true.

He still isn’t the Prince you remember. He might never be that person again, and you think you’re the only person that feels that way. Maybe the Valkyrie does, too, but you haven’t really spoken to her since she asked you to take this job.

She’s busy leading the people that search for a leader. You’re tending to the man who inherited that position but doesn’t want it.

--

One morning, you start your day with a load of laundry. There might be electricity and wireless internet and cable television in New Asgard, but everyone was already used to doing laundry by hand anyway, so very few people opted for automatic machines in their homes. Thor was one of those.

You bring out his laundry into the backyard and fill a wide metal bucket with water and soap. You go to separate the different pairs of sweatpants and large jackets and jumpers when you notice something.

In the distance is a man. He stands facing a line of trees that border a forest. There’s one trail in and out of that patch of trees, but this man isn’t anywhere near it. He just...looks in, head bowed, feet slightly apart. The wind shakes the long tendrils of his light hair, and you realize that the man is Thor.

Before you know you’re doing it, you head off in his direction, laundry all but forgotten. The briny smell of the water reaches even this far into town, follows you up the hill to the edge of trees. Your sweater is soft and warm, which you’re grateful for as the wind picks up again.

Neither of you say anything at first. You approach him, gaze into the forest, and wonder what, exactly, he’s looking for. You think, maybe, you see a rabbit hop along somewhere, but there’s nothing else. Just darkness and trees and...wind.

“Is everything alright, your-” You clear your throat. “Thor?”

Looking up at him, you can tell he’s been crying - his eyes are rimmed with red and streaks of shiny liquid are left running down his cheeks. You don’t say anything about it, though. You let him have that.

And you let him have the silence. Clearly, he wants it. You don’t know how long it goes on, or for how long you look at him. You just do. And it’s odd that he doesn’t shy away, doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s being looked at. You’re so used to him turning away, but you hadn’t even realized it until now.

The silence stretches for so long that you start to worry if he’s been bewitched. Magic is hard to come by these days, but still, you know it’s possible.

Then he finally sighs and turns your way. “Thought I saw a ghost, is all,” he says. He tries to smile. Really, truly tries. But it falters immediately, and the stringy, oily strands of his hair fall forward and remind you that you’re here to do a job.

--

“What’s this?” he asks when you bring him a tiny, dainty little hand picked bouquet of wildflowers. It’s really nothing special, but it is a splash of color in his otherwise dark shack.

You shrug. “I’ve been coming here for a year,” you tell him.

“So you’re giving me flowers?”

You hold them out to him, shaking your hand to emphasize that he should take them. The smile on your face is true - you’re happy to give him something that might make his day. This anniversary may not be anything huge, but it’s still something to celebrate, in your own humble opinion.

“I-” he starts. He sighs, takes the flowers, and doesn’t look back up at you again. “I don’t have anything for you.”

You know he can see your shrug even if he stares at the flowers. “That’s alright,” you say. “I just wanted to do something nice, that might bring good tidings to a day like this.”

He sits with that for a bit. You almost turn away to get ready and start on chores, but he finally sits up a little at just the right time. He clears his throat, runs his fingers over the flowers, and nods.

“Thank you,” he gets out.

You nod. It’s enough.

--

A few days later, the shack is spotless. Not a cup out of place, not a dust mite to be found. Korg and Miek aren’t even around, either. The television is off, but soft music is playing from somewhere inside.

You find Thor in the kitchen. He has a contraption he’s told you is called a boombox nestled onto the spice rack by the stove; the music is flowing from it, and Thor is tapping along to it. Not dancing, not even really moving in time with its rhythm. The toes of one foot, which are covered in athletic sneakers for once, tap just out of sync, and every few beats, he taps the spatula in his hand against the rim of the pan below it.

“You’re cooking?” you ask, hanging your sweater up on the hook by the doorway.

Thor looks over his shoulder and nods. “Just wanted to do something nice, that might bring good tidings to the day.”

You pause and admit to yourself that whatever he’s got going does smell wonderful. And his smile seems genuine - it’s larger than most of the ones he’s sent your way since you’d started working around him, and it fills  you with a certain kind of comfortable warmth you can’t put a name to.

And he’s returning your gesture from the other day.

You know he’s not a selfish person - you saw what being banished to Midgard that first time had done to him. You know this isn’t a gesture meant just to make himself feel better.

Which means, since you’re the only other person around, he’s doing this for you, too.

All he lets you do is set the table, but then he insists you sit and wait. And honestly, what else is there for you to do? He’s kept the place clean all night, even going so far as to put his clothes away in a place you can’t immediately see. Whether or not they’re folded correctly is another story, but apparently, you can’t worry about that right now.

He brings the food over when it’s ready, scooping out a hunk of whatever he’s made straight from the pan to put on your plate. He puts some on his plate, too, then returns to the stove for the side dishes.

“Where’d you learn to do all this?” you ask when he settles in across the table from you. He’s even put a pitcher of water on the table, so you pour out two glasses before digging in.

Thor shrugs. “A friend sent an electronic letter with a recipe. Anything I didn’t know about, another friend named Google helped me figure out.”

You laugh lightly at that, but almost immediately after, your attention is taken by the rather exquisite flavors that surprise your tongue. You can’t not moan as you chew, and Thor can’t help but laugh back at you.

“I take it you like the chicken?” he asks.

You nod. “This is so good!”

At that, he lights up. You’ve been subtly trying to get him to smile for almost a year, and this is what works?

It makes sense, though. You know that his sadness was caused by his failure to keep the remaining Asgardians together. Whatever happened while the Valkyrie was keeping you safe had sent him into a spiral.

So the fact that praise over something as simple as lunch makes him happy shouldn’t surprise you.

You finish chewing, then reach across the table and take his large hand in one of yours. He’s warm, and he freezes the second your skin touches. “Thank you,” you say. “This is...a lovely surprise.”

--

He never tells you when he’s heading toward the forest’s edge, but when you see him go, you go with him. You don’t like him chasing after ghosts on his own.

Why you’re so protective, you don’t dare analyze. You simply go after him, stand in silence for a while, then slowly reach out to hold his hand.

And he lets you. Most of the time. When he doesn’t, you respect his space, but you don’t leave him.

One night, right before you’re about to leave him, he calls you back into the living room. Korg carried Miek off half an hour ago, so you quickly wonder if Thor just doesn’t want to be alone tonight.

He looks right at you when you come back into the room. “Why do you go out to the trees with me every time?” he asks, dark circles taking up space beneath his eyes again. That’s how you know this week isn’t one of his better ones.

“I don’t like the idea of you being so alone,” you tell him honestly. “We’ve all got people haunting us these days.”

Thor doesn’t respond. You take one step closer to his chair, his eyes never leaving yours.

“My father was the only member of my family left when we boarded that ship. He didn’t make it to the escape pods when Thanos found us.” And just so that Thor knows you aren’t telling him to blame him, because genuinely, you don’t, you reach for his wrist.

He doesn’t pull away.

“I see him sometimes, mostly when I sleep. And now I know I’m not alone in that struggle.” You squeeze his wrist, then let go.

And he lets you.

--

You find that touch is sacred to him. He only lets you close enough to touch when he is at his best, or when he desperately needs to remember that he is still a being that feels.

You start staying later into the night. Thor walks you home when you stay too late, because he has no room for you in his shack. Not really.

It’s comforting to know that, through it all, he’s still a gentleman. His mother would be proud.

But one night, after he’s sent his friends home for the night, he sits on the floor of the living room and turns off the game. He puts on a movie, the one about the young girl lost in a foreign land after a tornado blows her house into another dimension. Just as the small people begin singing to her, he looks at you from over his shoulder as you come in from the kitchen.

“Would you mind braiding my hair?” he asks.

He washed yesterday. The strands are clean and long and begging to have fingers running through them.

You nod and smile, coming to kneel behind him. You notice a small container beside him; he takes the top off to reveal tons of tiny plastic hair ties.

He’d been planning on asking you to do this. You don’t know for how long, but that doesn’t matter.

Your smile grows, as does the warm feeling in your chest. A feeling which, after Thanos, you had thought you’d never feel again.

You section off thin strands on the left side of his head, gathering a few extra sections for the first few crosses. His hair is long enough that, when the braid is complete, it reaches to the center of the back of his head. You tie that one off, then do the same from the right side, fastening them together in the back in one braided tail.

You’ve missed this. Frigga had you do her hair all the time - she, much like her son, loved having her hair touched. She might never say so, as it wasn’t quite dignified for a Queen to be so frank.

Thor is not like that, though. He lets out sighs throughout, even a little groan once in a while. And when you finish the two braids, he gasps before reaching up to feel them for himself.

“I can do more,” you tell him, one hand on his shoulder.

He takes a second, then chuckles. “Only if you don’t mind.”

--

The first time you stay over, it’s by accident.

You’re used to watching Miek and Korg go home before you now, so you settle on the couch and pull one of Thor’s many blankets around your shoulders as he finds a program on television to watch.

Instead of sitting in his rocking chair, he joins you on the couch.

You feel brave enough to scoot closer to him. He looks down at you and smiles encouragingly. His arm goes across the blanket over your shoulders, holding you to his side as if you’ve known one another intimately all your lives.

It’s getting cold outside again. You think that, perhaps, he’s being nice and helping you keep warm.

But you’ve watched a few movies the humans call RomComs. You know this move. If he says anything about the weather, it’s just a cover. You know Thor, and you know that, if he didn’t want to be holding you like this, he wouldn’t be.

He doesn’t say anything for a while. He seems content, for once. You definitely know the feeling. Between his warmth and the comedy he’s put on, you feel...right at home.

You’re so comfortable that you fall asleep right there, tucked up against Thor’s side. He doesn’t wake you to take you home; when he’s ready to head to bed, he gently maneuvers so you lay out across the couch, then he finds three more blankets to place over you.

--

The Valkyrie drags Thor into the nearest town a few times a year. You start going with them the closer to Thor you get. You barely even spare a thought for his wanting you to be there with him.

The situation is complicated, you admit, and only getting more so as time goes on.

The fact that he asked you to come along to town, and then spent most of the day holding your hand and showing you places he likes and foods he loves… It makes you so, so happy. To see him happy, enjoying this new life, really (maybe) understanding that, though the reasons for building New Asgard aren’t the happiest, everyone’s been given a second chance at life.

Those things make your job complicated, at least in title. But when Thor smiles at you, you easily forget all about anything that isn’t directly related to him.

Even the Valkyrie, who watches the two of you closely all day.

Thor steps into a butcher’s shop at the end of the day. You and the Valkyrie stay by the truck she drives now. She puts her hands in her jacket pockets and raises her brows.

“I see you’ve gotten close to the King,” she says. Her tone isn’t accusatory or jealous, you note, but...protective is a good word. Curious is another.

You feel your face heat. “I care very much for him,” you tell her, only realizing after that you’ve said much more than you meant to. Not that you don’t feel as many things as that response leads one to think - you do - just that… It’s really the first time you’ve mentioned, to anyone, that you hold Thor very close to your heart.

She studies you for a moment, but eventually, her mouth turns up into a small smirk. “He seems happy. You do, too.”

You can’t stop smiling, even as your eyes divert to your feet.

“Hey,” she says, nudging you with one of her elbows. “Own it. Let him know. Clearly, it’s already working.”

“Working?” you ask, looking up again.

She nods. “It was time someone around us got to be happy. Really happy. Keep it up.”

--

When warmer weather settles in, Thor decides to rent a boat. He takes you and the Valkyrie into town so you can buy what the humans call “bathing suits,” which turn out to be tiny pieces of fabric that cover only extremities, meant for swimming rather than bathing. The name confuses you, but the Valkyrie helps you pick something out before it’s time to head back to New Asgard.

You make sandwiches. The Valkyrie brings booze. Good stuff, she says. Thor reads up on how to operate a motorboat.

And then, at midday, the three of you board the small speedboat and head out into the ocean. You’ve picked one of the sunniest days of the year, so the Valkyrie rubs a lotion into your skin that’s supposed to protect you from the sun’s rays.

You question whether or not it’s actually a potion, but she insists it’s not. “No magical properties whatsoever,” she says. “Just science.”

Earth rules are bizarre, but you just accept it and offer to help Thor out with the lotion, too. He hesitates, but eventually nods and removes his shirt.

For the first time in a long time, you’re reminded that he’s not as he used to be. That his soft body, the belly he carries in front of him now, it’s all new to him.

All you do about it is cock your head to one side and gesture for him to turn around. And when he does, you simply squeeze out a handful of the cool lotion and spread it across his shoulders, down his back, and along his arms. He laughs and jumps a bit when your fingers ghost over his hips, and you bite your lip at how absolutely adorable he is.

You wipe your hands on a towel to remove excess lotion before Thor sits beside you and asks, “Would you mind braiding my hair?”

The Valkyrie watches you closely. She sips on a bottle of beer as you tell thor, “Not at all.”

And then you part his hair down the center, then French braid one section, and then the other. Despite the healthy layer of oil lining his hair, which makes the strands stay in place better, stubborn little strands fall out around his face.

His smile is unbelievably bright. Genuine. It makes you beam right back at him until the Valkyrie jokingly scoffs and teases, “You two are disgusting.”

She finishes off her beer, puts the glass bottle in a garbage bag you’ve brought along - one for recycling and one for actual garbage - then quickly steps up onto the side of the boat and dives into the water.

Thor laughs at her.

For just a second, you remember everything behind you and wonder how you can celebrate when everything else seems so bleak.

But then Thor laughs louder at something you’ve missed - the Valkyrie spitting out salt water as she resurfaces - and you remember. Just being alive is reason enough to celebrate. Being here, with Thor, is enough.

You reach forward and kiss his cheek boldly, then only hesitate a second to watch for his reaction. His laughter dies, and he looks rather surprised, but the light in his eyes stays lit. You smile at him, then turn and launch yourself into the water, too.

--

A few nights later, you clear the dishes from the dinner table once the two of you are done talking over the food that’s chilled. You’ve sat for so long, just eating and talking, that your back and legs hurt a little, but you wouldn’t change a thing.

You turn the sink on to wash the dishes, but his huge arms come around you and take the plate from your hands before you can even get the sponge soapy. “You already do so much for me, (Y/N),” he says. “I’ll get this.”

And then he kisses your cheek, just like you’d done on the boat. His beard tickles your neck, so you can’t help but laugh and try to pull away from him, but you’re trapped between his arms. He just laughs with you, then lifts one arm to let you out so he can actually get the cleaning done.

Afterwards, he joins you in the living room on the couch. You’ve turned on the local news, even though neither of you tend to watch the news. Sometimes there are segments about the Avengers, and you know they upset Thor, so you avoid them.

And neither of you prefer watching segments about orphans left behind by the Snap. Or, really, anything having to do with the Snap at all.

But tonight, neither of you even notice the television. You see it, sure, but you’re tucked up against Thor and you feel so comfortable and at home that whatever the news anchor is saying doesn’t matter.

“Can I ask you something?” Thor pipes out of nowhere.

“You just did,” you tease, but then he pokes your side and you flinch. You turn on your side and throw an arm across him, and for a second, he goes stock still beneath you. But then you tell him, “But go on,” and he relaxes.

He clears his throat before asking, “Why did you kiss me the other day?”

That, you had not been expecting.

But like you do with everything, you give him honesty in this. “I was just...grateful to see you happy.” You tilt your head back to look up at him, your hand across him coming up to his jaw. He lets you touch him there, run your fingers along the beard he hasn’t been bothered to trim. You like it like this, actually. “Why did you kiss me tonight?” you ask him.

He’s not nervous or guarded at your retort. His eyes crinkle with his smile, just the way you’ve come to adore.

“I’m just grateful to have someone reminding me that I’m not defined by my failure.”

There’s a palpable shift between you. The next step you take, whatever it is, puts you on one path or another, but you won’t be able to back track if you make the wrong decision.

It’s pretty clear which path you decide to take. If you cared to, you might wonder how long you’ve known you’d go down this way.

Your hand moves up into the hair at the base of his neck. His skin is warmest there, and he ignites in gooseflesh at your touch. One of his arms cradles you, pulls you in, as you bring his face down toward yours.

This time, neither of you worry about cheeks. His lips find yours so easily. He tastes like dinner - garlic and paprika, more than anything else - but you must, too. His kiss is so comforting, so...utterly right that you press in even more until there isn’t any room left between you.

--

Every night gets a little more intimate. Every day, you wait patiently for Korg and Miek to leave before tucking yourself under Thor’s arm, snuggling up against him, letting him hold you and touch you like he lets you do for him.

You still don’t know why you get to have this happiness when more than half of Asgard is gone. When the unspeakable has happened to the entire Universe.

But you have the happiness you didn’t know you’d been craving since….well, before Ragnarok. Thor has something to make him feel worthy again, and it’s you.

He says as much, at least once a week. It’s sappy and maybe a little dramatic, but if it’s how he’s feeling, you let him feel it. At least he’s letting emotion and life in again. At least he’s not wasting away anymore.

--

The second anniversary of your “time together” (as you’ve been referring to it) comes quickly. This time, you and Thor cook together. You play soft music and flirt over the meal you’ve prepared, then split the dishes and skip television.

It’s the first time you’ve been in his bedroom. There are a few articles of clothing strewn haphazardly about, but overall, it’s a simple room and rather clean. No pictures, no private television. Just a bed, a closet, a dresser, and Thor.

When he places you back on his mattress, a puff of detergent-scented air wafts up at you. He must’ve cleaned his sheets recently, you think. It’s a nice thought.

You scoot yourself back on the bed and take your t-shirt off, dropping it off the side of the bed and onto the floor. Thor stares at you, unmoving for a moment. You both knew things were coming to this - another step in your relationship - and somehow, he seems unprepared.

Or just nervous.

He gets that way sometimes, like right after dinner, when you snuggle up to him and touch his belly. He’s not entirely proud of how he looks, despite you never having said anything to make him think you didn’t like him just as he was.

You unbutton your pants and slip them off, letting them fall where your shirt’s gone. Thor stops breathing. He hasn’t even stood up from where he’d been before, hovering over your body. You sneak back below him, sitting up this time, and slide your lips against his.

“I want you, Thor,” you tell him in a whisper, pushing on the hood of his sweater.

That, he allows you to pull off. His tongue laves at your bottom lip until your fingers find the hem of his shirt. Then he’s frozen again.

You pull back and ask, “Do you want to?”

Fresh peppermint wafts over you as he sighs. You try to figure out when he had time to chew on a mint, but it’s not important. What is is the small, almost saddened smile he gives you.

“I do,” he says. “I really, really do. It’s just…”

He can’t meet your eyes. His shut, and he lets his head hang. You’re close enough that his forehead collides with your shoulder, and you can’t help but chuckle and run a hand through his hair.

“I’m not what I once was,” he whispers, his beard dragging across your collarbone.

“That’s okay,” you whisper back, gently scratching along his scalp the way you know he likes. “You’re exactly how I like you, no matter what.”

Another heavy breath blows across your skin. You shiver and smile and tilt your head down until your lips almost reach his ear. “I have seen you without your shirt on before, you know,” you tease him.

It has the effect you wish; he laughs and shakes his head, then moves back enough to look at you again. His brow is creased as he nods. “You’re right,” he says. “I’m being ridiculous.”

You don’t stop smiling, but you do shake your head. “No, I think you’re being perfectly rational. I’m just reminding you that you’re not your failures, and that I wouldn’t be right where I am if I didn’t want to be.” You shrug, then slowly lower yourself so you lay back on the bed again. With your hand still in his hair, you tug gently and bring him down with you.

Thor is soft and warm and so comfortable. You’re sure you’d have liked him like he used to be, but he’s not like that anymore. You like him just as much now.

Because, though now’s not the time to say so, you don’t just like him for his looks. You like that he has never treated you as anything other than a person. Then a friend and now...more. You like that his presence is enough to remind you that you deserve happiness - that you both deserve happiness, despite everything.

“You’re amazing, (Y/N),” he sighs against your lips.

“Oh, don’t I know it,” you tease. “I’ve got to be some kind of awesome to have been looking after you all this time.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him, just to make sure he knows you’re absolutely joking.

His fingers pinching your sides confirm it. His lips swallow your whining laughter, and before long, you resume the attempt to remove his shirt. This time, he lets it happen - slowly. He’s unwilling to remove his lips from yours, but the second you get the chance as he breaks away for breath, you throw his shirt off the end of the bed.

“You are worthy, Thor. Worthy and wonderful,” you tell him as you trace your nails down his arms and back.

He pauses again, but this time, his eyes positively shine. His kisses that follow are electric, igniting little steps of a path down your body while his hands drag what’s left of your clothing off. His teeth drag along your skin, lips and tongue soothing each little bite he leaves as he explores.

Being caressed like this by a King, despite having thought of him as anything else in the last almost two years, is exquisite. Maybe Thor isn’t who he once was - is anyone? - but he certainly knows what he’s doing.

Kisses litter your thighs as he lifts one leg to brace it over his shoulder, then he does the same with the other. You’d swear the one look he gives you before diving in is full of lightning; just the thought spreads heat all through your body.

One, two, three little licks. One long swipe, from the bottom up. A long, deep groan at your taste before settles and circles your clit. Hands massage your bum, tongue laps at your wetness. His beard tickles and scratches and it all feels simply divine. Your hand in his hair tightens into a fist; he winces, but simply reaches up and pulls your fingers away to hold onto them with his own.

You push against him, want him deeper, need more of him. Pressure’s already building in your chest and lower abdomen. You call his name in rushed, haphazard whispers, chanting for him partially because you can’t think to do anything else, partially because he’s earned the praise.

He slips one finger inside of you, smirks against your core, then pushes in a second. The digits are thick and long, reaching places that haven’t been touched in years. Disaster after disaster prevented this; Thor must feel the same, because suddenly, he’s taking his time. He pumps his fingers, but slowly. Only adds a third when he is positive it’ll fit comfortably - you moan so loudly he laughs.

All you can respond with is, “Fuck me,” and that makes him laugh harder.

“Already on it,” he taunts, but he can’t get anything else out when you use your free hand to shove him back down. One last laugh before he gets back to work.

He’s deeper inside of you than anything you’ve felt before. Just his fingers - he reaches your spot easily, presses into it while his tongue speeds its circles around your clit. You bring his hand in yours up to your breasts for him to play; the pebbled buds there are so tense they ache. Thor twists and pinches, and little pangs of pleasure pulsate all the way down your body to your core.

Words won’t come anymore. Just moans and groans, heavy sighs as the pressure peaks and your back arches off the bed. Your inner walls clench tight around his fingers, then release waves of intense bliss throughout your whole body. Every limb shakes, your eyes shut tight, your thighs trap his head against your heat - Thor takes it all in stride.

He strokes you through your climax, slowing as you do, reading your body nearly as well as you do. He only pulls back when you’ve stilled, though your breathing is still labored.

You don’t notice the sting his beard has left until after he’s started dragging kisses up your body again. It all feels...indescribable. You’re floating, and you refuse to come down from your perch. You want Thor to join you.

When you’ve got enough control over your breathing to speak again, you manage to get out a short, “Turn over.”

Thor stops, stares at you for a moment, then does as you’ve said. He lays out on his back, and you turn to straddle his hips.

His beard shines with your release. His eyes sparkle with something else, but something close. You haven’t seen him like this, maybe ever. Your whole body heats up knowing only you have something to do with that look of euphoria on his face.

You lean forward and crash your lips against his. The taste of you on his tongue exhilarates you, floods heat directly to your core. Without moving you, he reaches forward to remove his jeans and briefs, and then you’re truly, possibly for the first time, on equal footing.

His hands on your hips help guide you over him. You reach for his cock, already hard and thick and leaking, and coat it in your wetness. Open mouth against open mouth - both caught as you gasp while he pushes into you. In an unspoken agreement, you go slowly until you’re fully seated on him.

Your eyes roll back at how deep he is. Further than his fingers reached; further than anyone you’ve had before. He gives you time to adjust around him while you throw your arms around his shoulders and cling to him.

“You okay?” he asks, one hand caressing your breasts, the other massaging your back.

After a moment, you nod. Smile. Tell him, “I’ve never been better.”

He smiles at that. Then asks, “Ready?”

Another moment, another nod. His lips close around yours again, and his hands both return to your hips. You push up, and he helps. In tandem, you’re nearly lifted off of him before you come back down. Your walls drag over every inch of him, his lips cover every inch of your skin he can reach. Slowly, speed builds, as does the familiar, glorious pressure within you.

Your hands explore the gentle slopes and curves of his body, and for once, he doesn’t pull away or freeze. You exalt him, and he brings you to new heights with each thrust. You feel him shiver when your palm grazes a nipple, so you backtrack and play like he had with yours. The moans you earn in gratitude thrill you, take you higher, bring him closer.

He takes the lead, pumping madly up into you as he chases his bliss. You throw your head back and drop your free hand to your clit, yelling out whenever his teeth nip at your throat and shoulders. It’s all so much, and before long, you hear yourself whimpering, “I’m so close, my love.”

You’ve never called him that before. Neither of you seem to notice, though.

“Come with me,” he whispers back.

And somehow, his timing is just right. You feel him tense below you, and as if on command, your walls grip his cock in a vice. One or both of you curse - you’ve lost the ability to decipher who’s saying what - as you rock against one another, relenting to the pleasure that takes you both.

His warmth engulfs you as you both calm. You’re so grateful for that constant.

After a while, he turns you over and slowly, gently releases himself from you. You can feel yourself smile, but your eyes begin to shut. You think he might be slipping off the bed, but can’t do anything about it.

What feels like an eternity later, a cool, damp cloth is pressed to your skin in little squares and increments. Warm lips go back and forth across your forehead. Thor asks various questions - “Do you feel okay?” “Did I tire you out?” “What did you mean by that nickname?” - and at first, you grunt positive responses because that’s all you can manage.

The last one forces you to breathe deeper, to turn toward him and open your eyes again. You smile up at him, wipe hair away from his face, and tell him, “Exactly what you think.”

--

It rains for weeks at a time over the summer. It’s almost funny how light storms don’t make him happy. You watch him sit in the rocker by the window, gazing out to sea with few words on his tongue.

On days like those, when he has nothing to say because everything in his head is getting the best of him, you try one thing: you make him breakfast. If he eats most or all of the food you’ve brought, then you invite yourself to sit in his lap and watch the water with him.

If he doesn’t touch it, you clear the plate, ask him if there’s anything you can do for him, and ultimately sigh when he says there isn’t. It’s not that you’re disappointed, and you hope he knows that. It’s just that you wish there was something you could do.

On days like that, there isn’t a single thing you wouldn’t give to make him smile. You’ve tried movies, music, dancing, crafting… The only thing that satisfies him is beer after beer, despite never getting drunk off of them. You can’t understand how he drinks it for the taste, but he insists that’s why he likes it.

So you do chores on those days. Laundry gets done in the kitchen, and cleaning is pursued throughout the shack. You spend the day pretending not to hover over him, and he spends it lost in memories he’s too tired to share.

You make a smaller dinner on those days. He picks at the food, eating little bits here and there. He thanks you, at least, and holds your hand when you go to clear the table.

“I’m sorry I’m not being...myself today,” he says, nearly every time without fail.

Today, you put the plates you’re carrying back on the table and kneel in front of him, never letting go of his hand in yours. “You don’t have to apologize for this,” you tell him. “Not to me.” You bring his hand to your lips and kiss his center knuckle.

His voice is merely a whisper when he says, “It’s just… I know it hurts you.”

You shake your head. “Your feelings don’t hurt me. I wish I could keep you from being so sad, of course, but I won’t deny you that right.” With a squeeze to his hand, you push yourself up and bring your lips to his forehead. “You, more than any of us, deserve to feel. So feel.”

He shakes a bit, but his free arm wraps around you and pulls you close. You hold his head to your stomach, just let him lean against you like that. This moment isn’t about you, and you know that, but you don’t keep yourself from thinking that it is so nice to be wanted and needed like this. If this is the only thing you can do for Thor when he feels down, then so be it.

It’s enough.

--

He finally tells you about the ghosts three years in.

“At first, it was just Loki. And he’s come back from the dead before, so I followed him...out to the edge of the forest.” His eyes go to the window at the back of the kitchen where, sure enough, you can see the exact spot he stands in by the trees. “I thought it was another one of his tricks, but he never spoke, never came near. Never told me why he was being so...cruel as to tease me like that.”

You wrap your hand around his. He only acknowledges with a squeeze of his fingers over yours.

“My mother came soon after. But, just like Loki, she never approached. That was when I knew they weren’t real. Or, at least, they weren’t really here.”

“Her magic was always great,” you tell him, your thumb stroking across his knuckles. You nod at one another, as you both seem to remember parts of the past. It’s funny, you think, how close you’d been all the time. So close, and so far.

And now you’re closer to him than you’ve ever been to anyone.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if some of their magic still exists in the universe,” you tell him softly.

He tries - oh does he try - to smile at you then. But it doesn’t quite reach.

You want him to know it’s okay, so you let him go just to get up from your seat and put yourself in his lap. You pull his head to your shoulder, run your fingers through his hair that needs to be washed soon. You breathe him in - the faintest hint of ozone fills your senses - and you settle there because you just know that somehow, everything will be okay.

Eventually.

One day, the ghosts of the past will leave Thor be.

--

The fifth year is far from the best.

There are good days, of course. Good weeks, whole months were Thor is happy and thriving. Those are the times when you stay longer, whole days in a row before ever going back to your own home. You’ve never had a house to yourself before, and since neither of you are in a hurry to change the living situations you’re in, you keep your home even if you spend more time in Thor’s.

But then, for what feels like longer stretches, he grows quiet again. He yells at people over the game Korg and Miek play. He talks to the ghosts at the edge of the forest now, and you wonder if there’s anything you can do to get them to leave him alone. Short of a seance, you don’t think there is.

One day, one of his darker streaks, a truck comes across the only bridge into New Asgard. From the shack, you can see the Hulk in the bed of the truck. He seems to be talking to someone, but from your vantage point, you see no other body. It’s odd to see someone so large, someone who’d used brute strength to attempt to save the old Asgard, perched so in the bed of a truck.

When the truck comes around, there’s a small rodent sitting beside the huge green body. You watch as the Valkyrie greets them like old friends. Well, you think, she is old friends with the Hulk.

She brings them up to the shack while you’re folding laundry. You listen in, not wanting to move, not wanting to scare off the visitors or something else that’s just as irrational.

The Hulk - though his voice is not the same, and his speech pattern is eloquent in a way it wasn’t the last time you’d seen him - tells Thor that the Avengers may have a way to reverse all that’s been done since the Snap. Since Ragnarok, even.

Your eyes widen. Your heart quickens.

A selfish side of yourself you haven’t indulged or shown in some time rears its ugly head.

You don’t want Thor to go back.

You love him just the way he is. He loves you, even when he can’t bring himself to smile. Something in his eyes still shines for you, even on those days. Going back means losing all of that, losing the affection and adoration you’ve both desperately earned and craved since your homeworld was blown to smithereens by a fire demon. The fire demon.

But you are not a selfish person. Your love for Thor has never been selfish, and his love for you has never been either.

So when he comes to you, not five minutes later, and takes your hands before he kneels on the hard kitchen floor in front of you, you know you won’t deny him this chance to make things right.

He smells of beer and soap - not the soap you like, just the hand soap he keeps by his sink. He looks you in the eye for the first time all day and says, “I have to go. If there’s even the slightest chance of saving them, I have to take it.”

It takes you a second, because you can feel your heart breaking, but you nod. In some way, you think you’ve known something like this would happen all along. The Avengers weren’t a team of people that rested when the world had lost all its hope. Thor wasn’t that person, for sure, and if he worked with and trusted the rest of that team, you knew they all had to operate similarly.

The breath you let out is shaky at best. You bring your forehead down to Thor’s, kiss his nose as lightly as you can, and shut your eyes.

“Come back to me. That’s all I ask.”

You can feel him shiver as your lips graze over his.

“I will. I promise.”

--

He’s gone for two weeks. You keep his shack clean. You pick up after Korg and Miek and enjoy their company because all you have left is the two of them and the Valkyrie.

She disappears the evening before Thor returns, in full regalia. With both of them gone, you can’t sleep. You pace the living room, fighting with yourself about whether or not to tune into a news channel.

Ultimately, you don’t do it.

The sun comes up. You curled into Thor’s rocker hours ago, and have since somehow nodded off - not fully asleep, but not aware of your surroundings anymore.

The front door opens. You rub your eyes and groan.

Thor calls your name.

You sit up immediately, look over the back of the chair, and feel yourself breathe deeply. There he is - in his scaled armor, his huge axe named Stormbreaker aloft in one hand. He places it against the far wall of the living room gently, then comes over to you.

For the second time, he kneels at your side. Takes your hand and smiles up at you.

You can hear revelry in the town below the hill. Music blasts, people cheer, you even think fireworks go off.

“I told you I’d come back,” he says, kissing the knuckles of your left hand. He pushes himself up until you’re face-to-face, and then he looks out past you, out the window next to you. “And now, so are they,” he says with a nod.

When you look, your breath is stolen right out of your lungs.

Because there, in the center of New Asgard, is...everyone.