#let’s just rebuild civilization

[rosegoldrosieee]

i feel like there’s something wrong with me and/or our society today if i’m romanticizing zombie apocalypses because i wouldn’t have to worry about college and forging a fulfilling and successful career while also making sure i pay off my student loans plus rent and get my 401(k) going and get married

[prismatic-bell]

It’s 4am and I’m having emotions about calling Mesopotamia “the cradle of civilization” so y’all are just going to have to bear with me.

Like okay, there are technically six so-called cradles of civilization: Mesopotamia, ancient Egypt, ancient China, ancient India, and two civilizations in south and Central America called the Olmec (Mexico) and Caral-Supe (Peru). But the one we all learn about in school is Mesopotamia, bleeding into Egypt.

But.

The oldest of those is the Fertile Crescent (Egypt, the Levant, Mesopotamia), clocking in around 12,000 BCE. That’s the 121st century BCE, if you’re wondering. “Behavioral modernity,” I.e. the thing that separates Homo sapiens from Homo erectus and Homo heidelbergensis, began 160,000 to 60,000 years ago. Homo sapiens was found in most of Africa before ever beginning the migration to other continents—by over 80,000 years, in some cases.

And we all know how Africa got treated in the post-Roman era.

How do we know there was no cradle of civilization in Africa? Like. It’s generally taken that “cradle of civilization” means cities, agriculture, and usually-but-not-always a writing system. We also know that if all humans on earth disappeared right now, in 15,000 years the only sign we were ever here would be a millimeters-thin line of plastic in the geologic record. And that’s in a world where we have stainless steel, concrete, the ability to carve in stone…

What I’m saying is, the oldest piece of string in the world is 50,000 years old and it was found in a cave. Huge swathes of Africa used to be green and lush. If some group ten thousand years ago decided to build a settlement out of mud bricks and tied-up pieces of wood in the African jungle, we’d never know today. The entire thing would have washed out and rotted away centuries ago. “Okay but agriculture—” one, not all agriculture is white people agriculture, and some of it is so different we wouldn’t recognize it at all (consider the terraforming east coast Native tribes did in North America that was so different from European farming methods it was taken as divine intervention in primeval forest). And two, I forget how many years it’s estimated to take before our fancy modern crops return to their wild roots once we’re gone, but I’m pretty sure it’s less than a hundred. We literally would have no way to tell anything was ever there.

And let’s say something did, by some miracle of preservation, survive to the “modern cradles of civilization.” Would it have survived subsequent wars and colonization? How about the changing climate as continents broke apart and ice ages came and went? Would we even have found it, given how gigantic it is and how little regard it’s received through the years?

Like. I could be totally wrong. But I also don’t see why it’s impossible for a civilization to have popped up in Africa like thirty thousand years ago for a century or two and then everyone went “ah, fuck this” and went back to being nomads. It happened at Cahokia. The city was abandoned and we don’t know why, but we do know there’s no evidence the mound-builders ever tried to rebuild somewhere else. And right here in my proverbial backyard, in Arizona, we had the Sinagua tribe, and in like the 1500s or so they just…dipped. There was a whole city built into the side of a cliff (two of them, actually, a few miles apart) and for unknown reasons they were abandoned. Archaeological evidence suggests the Sinagua moved northeast to join the Yavapai and Hopi tribes, but we have no idea why they left the Verde Valley. Water was still plentiful and even if Beaver Creek had started to dry up in summer—which is what it does today—only five miles away was a second city built around a sinkhole that’s still full of water today year-round (although it’s not potable by modern standards due to arsenic content in the water). Both were abandoned sometime in the 1400s for unknown reasons, and before you say “white people,” I will remind you white people didn’t come to America until 1492 and the site wasn’t discovered until over 100 years after it was abandoned.

So yeah. Maybe ancient civilizations in Africa so long ago, or so thoroughly erased by racist Europeans, that we’ll never know.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[buckyispunk]

Aloha

Aloha part one ~ Bucky Barnes x f!Reader (no use of Y/N), read part two here!

masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: You arrive at a Hawaiian resort for your ex's wedding and a man named Bucky buys you a drink. You proceed to spend the next day with him, getting to know him and his friends.

A/N: New series! There will probably be five or so parts, with much more smut, angst, and fluff to come :) let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this series!

Warnings: unwanted touching (not by Bucky), dom!bucky, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, spitting, choking, orgasm delay/denial, oral (f receiving), fingering, drinking, Bucky's got a filthy mouth

Word Count: 11k

Fucking Brock. You sit on the couch staring at the little cardstock rectangle in disbelief.

Join us in celebrating Brock and Marisssa’s special day! surrounded by hibiscus flowers and a tropical design. The flowery invitation theme makes sense when you read that the wedding is in Hawaii. 

You hadn’t seen Brock in years. Three, to be exact. It had been in the soup aisle of the grocery store.

You had been reaching for a can of tomato paste to make spaghetti to eat alone in your little apartment. You looked a mess, having stopped at the store on your way home from a long day of work. You heard him call your name - his nonchalant, egotistical voice recognizable anywhere. 

“Oh my god, how’ve you been? It’s been too long!” He had said, as if he had made any attempts to reach out to you - or had any desire to - since you had broken up. 

“Oh,” you turned around to face him, “fine, you?”

“I’m doing great! Just here to buy some soup for my girlfriend, she’s been under the weather lately.”

Not even a minute into conversation and he’d mentiioned his new girlfriend. You had just broken up two months before. You tried your best to keep the look of shock and sadness from your face. How had he moved on so quick? Did your almost four year relationship meant so little to him? 

You managed to give a small noncommittal smile and nod. He wasn’t paying enough attention to you to notice anyway, grabbing a couple of cans of chicken noodle soup and turning back the way he came. 

“We should get together and catch up sometime!” he had shouted over his shoulder as he walked away.

That was the last time you had seen him. It wasn’t like the two of you were on bad terms or anything. The break up had been civil - civil as a breakup can be, anyway. You and Brock had begun dating in your freshman year of college. One day, in the middle of you and Brock’s senior year, he sat you down and said he needed to talk to you. He said that you were great and he’d always have a special place in his heart for you, but he just couldn’t picture himself with you for the rest of his life - so there’s no point in wasting anymore time, as he had put it. To be honest, you didn’t disagree.

You had been unhappy towards the end of the relationship. You could tell that Brock was distancing himself and the two of you got in little fights almost every day. You knew it wasn’t going to work out, but it had still left a huge hole in your heart. Brock was a big part of your life every day for four years, then all of a sudden he was just gone. A big piece of you was missing and you had to rebuild it yourself. Turns out Brock rebuilt that piece with another girl. If he ever had a piece that needed rebuilding in the first place, that is. 

You really had wanted to stay friends with him after the breakup, or at least remain civil with him. He had never reached out after that day in the grocery store and you had no desire to reach out to him - you had healed yourself and decided you were better off without him. 

You sit on the couch running your fingers over the rough material, rereading the words over and over again, trying to make sense of it all. You really don’t care that Brock is getting married, it’s not like you want him back or anything. But, at the same time, you weren’t necessarily chomping at the bit to go watch him and his fiancee celebrate their special day. 

A vacation did sound nice, though. You’d always wanted to go to Hawaii. Plus, you figured some of you and Brock’s friends from college would be in attendance. The two of you had been in the same friend group when he asked you out. You lost touch with the friend group after the break up. You would see some of them in passing or in classes and share small talk, but you had stopped getting invitations to hang out with them. You weren’t one to hold a grudge, though, and it would be nice to see them again. 

You mull it over for a little while before deciding that it would be a good move on your part to go, show Brock that you were still on good terms with him and that him getting married doesn’t bother you. You could take a break from work and get some much-needed sun and relaxation. You RSVP and check no, you will not be bringing a plus one.  

The months leading up to the wedding follow the same, monotonous routine. Work, eat, sleep, repeat. Occasionally your coworkers would drag you out to the bar after work and you would go - desperate to feel some sort of belonging. Despite your efforts over the years, you had never gotten close with any of the girls at work. You got along with them okay, but you wouldn’t exactly call them your friends. Acquaintances was a more fitting term.

You do, however, have one best friend. The only issue is that she lives almost a thousand miles away. You had moved to New York for school and she had stayed back home in Illinois. You stay in contact with her and your family. Most days, talking to them makes you more homesick than anything else. You’d considered moving back more than once, but had ultimately decided against it each time - you’re scared to look like a failure. You don’t want to come running back home at the first signs of struggle. You want to prove to everyone back home that you can make it in the big city by yourself. 

As the days go by, you find yourself looking forward to the special day. Not because of the wedding, but because you’re ready to escape the numb hell that your life has become. The wedding is on a Friday. You’re flying in on Monday and leaving Sunday morning. Six nights at the tropical resort Brock and Marissa have picked. 

It’s the Sunday night before you leave. Your bags are packed and waiting by the door. Sleep comes easy, knowing that by this time tomorrow you’ll be drinking cocktailas at a pool-side bar, free from work stress and city traffic. Away from the city where you feel lonely among millions of people.

Usually when the ear-piercing, dread instilling sound of your alarm rings, you hit the snooze button and pull the covers tighter in attempt to hang on to your last moments of comfort and peace - or as close as you can get to that, these days. Today, however, is different. When you hear the all-too familiar noise coming from your phone, it leaves you with a feeling of excitement rather than depression. 

You sit up, smile on your face, and get ready for the day. After showering and putting on your comfiest plane clothes, you grab your bags and head outside. You hail a taxi and can’t even bring yourself to be upset when he doesn’t offer to help you with your luggage. You smile the whole way to the airport.

I repeat, flight DL4567 is delayed by two hours. Boarding will begin at 12:10.

The universe has found a way to put you in a bad mood again. You’re certain whatever higher power there is had sent this sudden thunderstorm just for you. You look at your phone to check the time - 9:45. You had been sitting here for an hour already. The hard chair is starting to get uncomfortable, so you decide to get your second cup of coffee for the morning. You stand and grab your luggage, making your way to the end of the Starbucks line. You order your go-to drink and some breakfast.

Once you get your coffee and food you find a little table to sit at and pull out your book. You find yourself enthralled in your book and the time flies. A voice over the loudspeaker breaks you out of your trance. 

Flight DL4567 now boarding. 

You snap your book shut and clean up your table. You grab your bags and head back to your gate. After waiting in line for a little while, you finally take your seat on the plane. You put in your earbuds and watch the grey clouds outside - thankful you got a window seat. By the time the plane starts moving, you’re smiling again and counting down the time until your arrival. 

You spend the first five hours of your flight reading and watching TV - you’re pleasantly surprised to see that they have your favorite show. Sometime after they serve lunch, you fall asleep. When you wake up, there’s only two hours left until arrival. 

You watch the fluffy clouds outside your window and find that time passes quickly when you think about all the things you want to do in Hawaii. You also find that the time passes impossibly slow when you let your mind drift to New York and all your responsibilities. How is it that you haven’t even landed in Hawaii yet and you’re already dreading returning back home?

You see the beaches and the luscious green that fill the ground beneath you. You take in all the sights as best you can as you get closer and closer to the ground, preparing for landing. Your ears hurt slightly from the pressure change, but you’ve got other things on your mind.

After waiting some more to get your luggage, you finally manage to get on a shuttle and you’re on your way to the resort. You watch the mountains in the distance and the palm trees on the drive. You’re listening to your playlist through your earbuds and this is the happiest you’ve felt in a while. You could get used to this, you think. 

Your jaw drops when you pull up to the hotel. The huge building is right on the beach. Sure, that’s what it had said online, but the real thing it’s even more staggering in person than it had been in the pictures. The sun beats down on you as soon as you step out of the shuttle, but there’s a nice breeze that makes it enjoyable. A worker hands you your bags from the back of the bus and you thank him. You roll them inside the resort, eyes widening even more when you see the inside of the place. You can’t wait to get your bags in your room and explore. 

The receptionist is nice as can be and tells you to enjoy your stay as she hands you your key cards - like you’ll be needing more than one. You wheel your luggage into the elevator and press the number five. You’re astonished by the view when you step into your room. Your balcony faces the beach and you can see mountains in the distance. The evening sun is still shining bright and there’s not a cloud in the sky. 

It’s just after seven o’clock by the time you’re done changing. You head down to the main floor and set off to explore. There’s a spa, an indoor and outdoor bar, a pool, a hot tub, a gym, and a restaurant. You decide to hit the outdoor bar and enjoy the last of the daylight. 

You slide into a barstool. The warmth of the sun and the refreshing sea-side breeze, along with a couple cocktails, quickly put you into a relaxed headspace. You’d been looking forward to this for so long and it’s definitely all you’d imagined it would be. 

The resort is pretty full, but not to the point where it gets on your nerves. The bar is occupied by a group of girls who look a little younger than you and some married couples.

You’re just finishing your second drink when something catches your attention - a loud, boisterous laugh coming from the other end of the bar. You lean forward to see a group of guys you hadn’t noticed before. The laugh comes from a man with chocolatey, smooth skin. He’s sitting with a gigantic blond man who is currently looking down at the bartop and shaking his head, a half smile on his face. The last man, though, is what makes you do a double take. 

He’s got dark, fluffy hair. Though his stubble tries to hide it, you notice his sharp jawline. His shoulders are broad and his biceps stretch the sleeve of his t-shirt. He’s smiling, pearly white teeth on display. You find that you’re still watching him as he brings a bottle of beer to his lips and takes a swig. 

You’re only snapped out of your trance when he looks in your direction. You quickly divert your eyes, but you aren’t quick enough. He catches your gaze for the briefest of seconds. You might be imagining things, but you swear you see the corner of his mouth curl up into a smile before he looks back to his friends - still laughing and yelling about something.

The sun has finally set and you decide on having one more of the fun, tropical drinks before heading up to your room. 

You prepare to flag down the bartender, surprised when you find him already stopping in front of you, one of the cocktails you’d been drinking in hand. 

“Courtesy of the gentleman at the other end of the bar.”

You quickly thank the bartender and look back to the other end of the bar where the group of guys had been sitting. They’re the only men sitting at that end of the bar.

The brunette is already looking at you. He gives you a million dollar smile and shoots you a wink before he turns, following his friends back into the hotel.

You sit in shock for a solid minute, replaying the wink over and over in your mind. Sure you’ve got a solid buzz and you haven’t been laid in a long time, but even if that wasn’t the case, you’re sure it would’ve been just as sexy. You’re only slightly ashamed of the small amount of wetness you feel in your panties.

You down the free drink and head back into the hotel. On your way to the elevator, you notice the man that’s been occupying your thoughts for the last 30 or so minutes standing at the reception desk. His hair is wet and his clothes are soaking through. 

You quickly make your way to the elevator and repeatedly press the up arrow. You’re not sure where the sudden embarrassment is coming from, but your cheeks are red and you don’t want him to see you right now. 

Unfortunately for you, you hear footsteps behind you and turn to find the same piercing blue eyes you had met across the bar staring back at you. 

“Friends stole all the towels out of my room,” he tells you, holding up a stack of fresh ones.

Well that explains why he was at the reception desk, also why he’s soaking wet. 

“Oh,” you manage a small chuckle as you look down at your feet. 

You can’t help but feel embarrassed when he’s looking at you so intently, like you’re the only thing on his mind right now. It doesn’t help that he’s one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen and he’s talking to you of all people. 

You force yourself to meet his eyes again, “Thank you, um, for the drink earlier,” you manage in a somewhat steady voice. 

 “Course, doll,” another smile. 

The elevator doors finally open and he extends his arm, “After you.”

He follows you into the elevator and presses the number five. 

“What floor are you on?” he turns, waiting for your response.

“Same as you, apparently,” you smile up at him. 

You weren’t close enough to tell before, but he’s tall. At least six feet. 

“I’m Bucky, by the way. Sorry ‘bout leaving before I could introduce myself earlier, but my friends were being a pain in the ass - pardon my language.”

You tell him your own name and he holds out his hand. You put your hand in his and expect him to shake it, but what he does next surprises you.

He gently raises your hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he rolls your name off his tongue, still holding your hand.

You try your best not to make it obvious that you’re swooning over this man. Heat returns to your core at the feeling of his rough hand engulfing yours. 

The elevator bell dings, letting you know you’ve reached your floor. Bucky carefully drops your hand as the doors open. The two of you step out of the elevator and he stops.

“I’ll be seeing you around,” he says, holding eye contact with you.

“I hope so,” your buzz encourages you. 

You smile at each other and when he turns to head to his room, you do the same. 

“Goodnight, doll,” he shouts over his shoulder before disappearing into his room.

You can’t keep the smile off of your face the rest of the night. You’re in fucking Hawaii. A man straight out of your fantasies had bought you a drink, and he plans on seeing you around. You know it’s too soon to be thinking this, but maybe you’ll find a more unconventional way to relieve stress this week. 

After you wake up and get dressed for the day, you head down to get breakfast from the buffet. You load your plate and find a table. You’re in the middle of chewing a bite of waffle when you see Brock. Him and a woman, you assume it’s Marissa, are grabbing plates and getting into the breakfast line. 

Brock doesn’t notice you until after him and the woman have gotten their own food. You watch him as he scans the room for a table, his eyes eventually landing on you. 

He calls out your name and leans down to tell the woman something. 

“So glad you’re here! Are these seats taken?” he asks, not waiting for a response as he sits down, leaving the woman to follow. 

“Go ahead,” you say. You’re somewhat glad to have some company, even if it’s a little awkward.

“This is my fiancée, Marissa.”

“So nice to meet you,” she offers her hand and you shake it. 

Breakfast is filled with awkward conversation. You and Brock catch up a little bit, telling each other what you’re up to these days. After a few minutes, Brock pulls out his phone and doesn’t put it away for the rest of the meal. You talk to Marissa about the wedding planning and do your best to seem interested as she talks about flower arrangements for ten minutes. 

Eventually, conversation lulls and you take the opportunity to get up. 

“So nice catching up with you, Brock. And nice to meet you Marissa!” you say, heading to your room.

You decide on heading to the pool today and change into your bikini. It’s a black set that shows off your body without being too skimpy. You throw some clothes over it and grab your book before stepping out of your room. 

Before you reach the elevator, you hear your name being called. You turn and see Bucky standing by his door.

“Where are you headed to?” 

“I’m gonna go lay by the pool for a bit, wanna join me?” you answer, not sure where your courage is coming from.

Bucky grins as he responds, “Nothing else I’d rather do.”

You feel your face heat up.

“Lemme put some trunks on and I’ll meet you down there?”

“Sounds great, Bucky,” you nod at him before slipping into the elevator.

Once at the pool, you grab two towels. By some miracle, you manage to find two empty lounge chairs together. You set your things down and lay the towels over the chairs. You strip out of your clothes, leaving you clad in only the bikini, and apply sunscreen before laying down. You put your earbuds in and close your eyes and bask in the sun. 

Maybe it's the sunshine, maybe it’s the fresh ocean air, or maybe it’s something else entirely, but you’re feeling the happiest you’ve been in a long time. You notice that instead of your usual RBF, you've been smiling almost constantly since your arrival.

When you open your eyes, you see Bucky standing a few feet away from you, steel blue eyes raking up and down your body. 

“Oh, Bucky,” you pause your music, blush returning to your cheeks, “how long have you been standing there?”

“Shit,” he says your name, realizing he’d been caught staring, “I swear I just got here like ten seconds ago. I’m so sorry. Feel free to revoke my invitation because I was being a creep,” he grimaces, expecting you to be mad at him.

The way he looked at you was different than the way most men would look at you in a bikini, though. It wasn’t gross or pervy. It looked like he was genuinely just appreciating your body, rather than plotting how to get you into his bed. And he didn't make any disgusting comments or cat call you like other guys have in the past. Besides, you'd be lying if you said you didn’t get a boost of confidence from the way he looked at you.  

“Hmm,” you put your finger on your chin, pretending to mull it over, “I’ll let you sit down, but only if you buy me another drink first.”

That familiar grin spreads across his face again. 

“You got yourself a deal. You want another one of those gross cocktails you were drinking last night?”

“Um, excuse you, Mr. I’m too manly to drink cocktails, but I’ll have you know those were delicious.”

He chuckles and promises to be back shortly before walking toward the bar. 

You play your music and wait for him to return. After a couple minutes, he returns holding a colorful, fruit filled cocktail and a beer bottle.

Bucky takes his seat next to you, beer bottle in hand. He lets out a sigh of relief as he lays back in his chair. 

“So, not to be rude, but is Bucky your real name?”

“My full name is James Buchanan Barnes, if you must know. All my friends and family call me Bucky.” 

You nod and take a sip of your drink. 

“Man, it’s hot,” Bucky takes a drink from his bottle before setting it down and reaching down to grab the bottom of his shirt. You find it’s your turn to stare as he pulls it over his head, exposing tan skin and rippling muscle. Bucky gives you a cocky smirk when he notices you staring with your drink frozen midair, on its way to your mouth. 

You quickly avert your eyes and feel the familiar dusting of pink return to your cheeks. 

“Like what you see, doll?”

You simply shake your head at his teasing and smile, flustered as can be.

“So what do you do for work, Bucky?”

“Well I was in the army until a couple years ago. Now I’m a mechanic, I got my own shop with my buddies.” 

You make a mental note to thank the army for mandating PT as you watch a drop of sweat roll down Bucky’s washboard abs.  

“Is that who you’re here with?”

“Yeah. Me and Steve have known each other since we were little, actually. We met Sam when we joined up and after we all got out we opened up shop together,” a reminiscent smile plays upon his lips. “Those two knuckleheads are basically family. We decided to take a trip to celebrate the shop’s one year anniversary.”

“Speaking of family, do you have any?”

“My, uh,” his brows furrow, “my dad died when I was little, but I have a mom and a sister who’s a little younger than me. About your age, probably.” 

His expression returns to normal in a split second, “Enough about me. Do you have family?”

“Yeah, but I moved away for college and never went back home.”

“Where’s home?”

“Ohio. I live in New York now.”

Bucky seems almost excited at this bit of information. 

“Is that so?” he raises an eyebrow. “I live in Brooklyn.”

“Me too,” you share a smile.

Needing a break from the sweltering sun, you stand and grab your drink. 

“I'm getting in the pool, care to join?”

Bucky wordlessly stands and follows you to the pool, smiling. You walk down the steps, drink in hand. Bucky, however, stops at the edge of the pool and watches you. 

“You coming in or what?”

“In a minute, doll.”

Surprisingly, the pool isn’t that crowded. It’s huge, so the people that are in the pool are able to spread out and stay out of each other’s way. 

It’s only once you’re standing in the pool, water up to your bikini top, that Bucky decides to enter. 

Via cannonball. 

You register what he’s about to do as he jumps in the air and wraps his hands around his knees and you yell at him, Barnes don’t you dare! but it’s too late. Next thing you know, you’re drenched. Your hair and face are soaked and there’s pool water in your drink.

Bucky emerges from under the water, smirk dancing across his lips. His expression falters for a second when he notices your angry expression, but you can’t keep the smile from your face when he shakes his hair out like a wet dog. 

“You ruined my drink.”

“I’ll buy you another,” he says, taking the drink out of your hands and setting it on the edge of the pool. 

He walks closer and closer to you until you’re just inches apart. He tentatively moves his hands under the water until they’re resting on your bare hips. His grip is soft, barely there. He’s giving you a chance to reject his touch, but all you do is gently move into his hands. 

His grip becomes more firm and his eyes light up with a glint of mischief. Before you know what hit you, you’re being lifted out of the water, Bucky’s muscles flexing as he raises you up. Before you have a chance to stop him - as if you’d stand any chance against his nearly super human physique - he launches you back into the water. 

When you emerge from the water, you see Bucky nearly doubled over laughing at the angry expression on your face. You really do try your best to be mad at him, but his shimmering smile and the crinkles in the corners of his eyes makes it hard. 

“What. The. Hell,” you make your way back to him and move to smack his chest. Bucky has quick reflexes, though, and you find that your hand is trapped between one of his own and his muscular pec. 

“That was revenge for the way you’ve been staring at me all morning when I’m unable to do anything about it.”

You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at his flirty words in an effort to keep up your mad facade.

“What if I drowned Bucky?” you deadpan.

“Wouldn’t let that happen,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“Well, you’re still a jerk.”

“A jerk who’s talking to the prettiest girl in this resort,” he counters with a shit-eating grin.

Bucky drops his hand and, instead of moving yours away, you wrap both your arms around the back of his neck. 

“Not for much longer if you pull another stunt like that, Barnes.”

“Sorry, doll,” the amused grin he’s still sporting makes you doubt his apology.

His hands return to your hips and he pulls you closer. He’s a fair bit taller than you and you have to tilt your head up to look at him. The sun is reflected in his ocean blue eyes and water drips down his face, getting caught in the scruff spanning his jaw. 

Bucky leans down and lifts one of his hands to gently grab your chin between two long fingers. He softly directs you toward his own face. You can’t stop your eyes from flicking down to his pink, pillowy lips. You close the rest of the distance on your own. 

Bucky is quick to kiss you back after your lips meet his. He caresses your lips with his own and he moves his hand to the back of your neck, pressing you against him harder. He swipes his tongue across your lips and you part them for him. You let out a small moan into his mouth and he gently takes your bottom lip between his teeth.

He pulls away, letting your lip free. You feel a throb in between your legs when he gives your neck a quick squeeze before letting his hand fall back to his own person. 

“Fuck, doll. Don’t make me throw you into the water again.” He waits until he thinks you’re not looking before reaching down to adjust his swim trunks.

“You started it,” you reply as you make your way to the steps and climb out of the pool. “I need another drink,” you make sure to sway your hips as you walk back toward the bar, not needing to look back to know he’s watching. 

You lean against the bar and are waiting to be helped when you suddenly feel a hand on your hip. You turn around and expect to see Bucky, only to be met with the sight of a man you’ve never seen before.

“Can I help you?” you remove the man’s hand from you.

“Nice bikini, baby. Lemme buy you a drink,” the slur in his words and his unsteady stance letting you know that he’s certainly not sober.

“No, thanks,” you turn back to the bar, making it clear you’re not interested. 

The man either doesn’t get the hint or decides to keep trying anyway, because you feel both his hands land on your hips this time. He steps closer to you, his chest pressed up against your back.

Just as you’re preparing to throw an elbow into the man’s ribs, you feel his hands being ripped off of you. You turn around to see the man falling to the ground, Bucky standing over him. 

“Get up,” Bucky demands, looking down.

The man, surprisingly, manages to get back on his feet and gives Bucky a death glare. Before he has a chance to give Bucky a piece of his mind, as you’re sure he was about to, Bucky grabs him by the collar of his shirt and leans into the man’s ear. He says something too quiet for you to hear and emphasizes it by using his grip on the man’s shirt to shake him. A few people around you are starting to stare.

The man’s face goes slack and he nods in response to whatever Bucky had said. Bucky shoves the man away and he nearly falls to the ground again. Bucky stares him down as he turns and walks away. Once he’s sure the man isn’t coming back, he returns his attention to you. Thankfully, everyone’s attention seems to be back to whatever they were doing before the commotion.

“You okay, doll? I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault, Bucky,” you give him a half smile to let him know you’re okay, just sick of men thinking they have a right to touch you. “I’m okay.”

“You still want another drink? Told you I’d buy it,” he goes to flag down the bartender. 

You gently rest your hand on his bicep and he looks at you “Thank you, Buck,” you hope your genuine expression conveys that you’re not just thanking him for the drink.

He gives you a curt nod, “Don’t mention it. Just trying to be a gentleman.”

A few minutes later, armed with another round of drinks, you and Bucky are making your way back to the lounge chairs.

“So where are your friends today?” you inquire.

“Finally got those punks outta my hair for a little while. They went to hike up some mountain. Or maybe it was a volcano, I really don’t know.”

“You didn’t want to go with them?”

“I-uh,” he rubs a hand across the back of his neck, “let’s just say heights aren’t really my thing,” an adorable redness spreads across his face.

You nod, deciding to spare him any further embarrassment from teasing. The two of you sit down on the sides of your chairs, facing each other. 

“So why are you here?”

You figured the question would arise eventually, but you had been dreading telling him the reason. It just sounds embarrassing to admit that you’re attending your ex’s wedding. 

“I’m actually here for a wedding.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s getting married? Not you, I hope,” Bucky chuckles at his own joke but stops when you don’t so much as crack a smile. His face drops and he stares at you for a second before you notice his expression.

“No. God- no. I’m not engaged, Bucky. Very much single. It’s my ex’s wedding.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “Oh, wow,” you can tell he’s unsure how to respond.

“I’ve hardly talked to him since the breakup a few years ago. We’re on good terms, though. Actually ate breakfast with him and his fiancee this morning.”

“Well that’s good, I guess. That you’re on good terms, I mean. Why did you choose to come? Sorry if I’m being nosy, you dont have to answer.” “No, it’s fine. It’s a little weird, I get it. For the most part, it was a good excuse to take a vacation and hopefully see some old friends. It’s not like I still have feelings for Brock or anything, so I really couldn’t care less that he’s getting married. His fiancee seems nice enough. And things went okay this morning, so I’m hopeful that things won’t be too awkward at the wedding. Plus there’ll be an open bar at the reception,” you crack a smile.

Bucky listens and nods along. “Well I hope everything goes okay. I’m certainly not complaining that you’re here,” he gives you a soft smile.

Sunbathing next to Bucky and sharing laughter-filled conversation leaves you with such a serene feeling that you physically feel lighter and your mind feels clearer. You decide in that moment that this vacation was definitely worth it, you can feel your mental health improving by the hour.

At one point, you doze off and are woken to Bucky’s hand gently shaking your shoulder. You open your eyes and see him leaning over you, radiant smile on his face. 

“Probably shouldn’t stay out here too long or you’ll burn to a crisp.”

You sit up and nod, “Good point.”

You and Bucky get dressed and gather your things before depositing your towels in the proper bin and heading inside the hotel. Once you and Bucky reach your floor, you stand and shuffle your feet, unsure of what to do next. Bucky sets a hand on your arm and you look up at him. 

“My friends and I are going out to dinner tonight and, I’m sorry if this seems weird, but would you want to come with us? You don’t have to say yes, just thought I’d throw it out there,” he has a nervous look on his face and he chews on his lip while he waits for an answer.

You couldn’t be more thrilled at the fact that he still wants to spend more time with you, even though you’d been together a large chunk of the day already. You want to say yes, both because you have no other plans and because you’d love to spend more time with the man in front of you, but you don’t want to seem overly eager. 

“Yeah, I’d like that. Only if you’re sure your friends won’t mind, that is.”

Bucky looks almost relieved and gives you a boyish grin. “Nah, Steve and Sam will be fine. I’m sure you guys will get along great.”

“Okay, Buck, looking forward to it.”

“Can’t wait, doll. I’ll meet you here at seven.”

Bucky seems to hesitate for a moment, but then leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips, which you happily return. He pulls back and heads off to his room.

“See you tonight, sweetheart.”

You decide you have a bit of time before you need to start getting ready for dinner, so you grab your book and sit out on the balcony. You find that you have a hard time focusing on the words in front of you, though. The ocean waves and palm trees blowing in the breeze paired with the distant sounds of laughter and music coming from below makes for a pleasant distraction. Before you know it, it’s 6:45 and you scramble to get back inside and start getting dressed. 

It isn’t until you’re searching through your clothes that you realize you don’t know where you’re going for dinner or how to dress. You only packed three dresses, a sundress, the dress you’re wearing to the wedding, and the one you decide on for tonight.

The black dress comes down to your knees with a slit up the thigh. It’s tight and shows off your curves. The back is open, with straps crossing in the center of your shoulder blades. The cut in the front is low enough that it shows off your cleavage while maintaining a classy enough appearance. 

You decide to dress it up with heels - also black. They’re only a couple inches tall, so you can still walk in them somewhat comfortably. You’re thankful that you packed a decent selection of jewelry and throw on some silver earrings and a necklace.

You take a quick look at yourself in the mirror and can’t help but smile - damn you look good. You grab your clutch and open your door. You nearly walk into Bucky as you step into the hallway. 

Bucky is wearing tight grey dress pants with a snug-fitting short sleeve black button up. The first few buttons of his shirt are undone, giving you a peek of the toned chest hiding beneath. He’s paired the outfit with a black belt and matching shoes. He speaks before you have a chance to compliment him.

“Doll,” he looks you up and down, eyes wide, “wow. You look gorgeous.”

You feel yourself flush as you thank him. 

“You look really good too, Buck. Where’s Steve and Sam?”

“I told them to wait downstairs for us. Wanted to prepare you for them. They can be a bit,” he pauses, searching for the right word, “much, sometimes. I told them to be on their best behavior tonight. They just have a way of embarrassing people, Sam especially. I’m sure they’ll be teasing me nonstop, so just ignore anything they say.”

You chuckle lightly, “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

You and Bucky step into the elevator and take turns sneaking glaces at each other. Just before you reach the ground floor, Bucky leans over you, effectively trapping you between him and the elevator wall. Even in your heels, he has to lean down to be eye level with you. “I mean it, doll, you look stunning,” his eyes search yours, “Can I kiss you?”

You respond by closing the distance between the two of you. He reaches up and places a hand on the back of your head, holding you to him. The feel of his soft lips on yours makes you forget where you are. All too soon, the elevator door is opening and before you and Bucky have a chance to break away from each other, you hear a whistle.

“Damn, Barnes! Moving quick!” 

Bucky quickly steps away from you but stays in front of you, shielding you while you take a second to collect yourself. 

“Shut it, Sam,” Bucky says sternly. You don’t miss the red that creeps up the back of his neck. Nor do you miss how his tight pants do wonders for his ass.

After a second you step out from behind Bucky and extend a hand to the man, deciding to play it off.

“So you must be Sam,” you introduce yourself as he shakes your hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve responds when you shake his hand.

Steve and Sam lead the way out of the resort and you trail behind with Bucky. 

“We heard about this place some locals recommended that’s supposed to be really good. We’re gonna take a taxi there. That okay with you?”

“Sounds great,” you smile up at him.

The four of you wait in front of the resort for the taxi. 

“So,” Steve says your name, “you really spent all day with Bucky and he hasn’t made a fool of himself yet?”

“Whoa whoa whoa, I never said that. He’s lucky I’m even here right not after he threw me into the pool earlier. Although he did almost get into a fist fight defending me, so I guess it cancels out.”

Sam gives Bucky a grin, “Attaboy.”

“When me and Buck were younger, I used to get myself into all kinds of trouble and Bucky would have to end up kicking some dude’s ass for me almost daily,” Steve reminisces.

Bucky huffs and nods his head, “Punk dragged me into all kinds of trouble. Believe it or not, he wasn’t always this big. Needed to help him out or he woulda ended up bleeding out in an alley somewhere in Brooklyn.”

Steve’s cheeks heat up, but you have trouble picturing the man in front of you as anything other than he is now - huge and intimidating. 

After a couple minutes of getting to know Steve and Sam a little bit, the taxi arrives. It’s a five seater car, Steve sits in the front with the driver and you, Bucky, and Sam climb into the back. Bucky sits in between you and Sam. The car is plenty roomy enough, but Bucky makes sure to sit close enough that his thigh is pressed up against yours. The drive is short and Steve pays the driver when you arrive. Everyone gets out of the car. Bucky offers you his elbow and you link your arm in his. He leads the four of you into the building.

“Hi, we have a reservation for Barnes.”

The hostess leads you out back to the outdoor seating and your jaw drops. The palm tree surrounded patio is right on the beach and you have a perfect view of the sun setting on the water. Fairy lights and tiki torches give the place a soft glow. A live band plays soft Hawaiian music on a stage. 

Once you reach your table, the hostess sets down menus and silverware, before heading back inside. Bucky unlinks his arm from yours and he pulls out a chair for you. Before you sit, you turn to him.

“Bucky, this place is beautiful.”

“Glad you like it, darling.”

You sit and Bucky takes the seat next to you. By the time you snap out of your awestruck trance, Sam and Steve are both holding menus and arguing about something. You go to pick up a menu and notice Bucky’s eyes trained on you. He gives you a smile before looking down at his own menu. 

The waitress comes to take drink orders and the three men all order whiskey. You decide to get something other than a fruity cocktail.

“I’ll have the same,” you say when the server looks to you. 

You notice the way all three of their eyebrows jump at your choice. The waitress leaves and Bucky gently sets a hand just above your knee. He turns to look at you, as if asking for permission and you give him a reassuring smile. Conversation flows and when the waitress returns with the drinks, Sam and Steve immediately take a sip of theirs. Bucky’s eyes fall on you as you raise the glass to your lips. You keep eye contact with him as you take a drink, holding a straight face. You see of flash of something dark flash in his eyes and he moves his hand higher up your thigh and gives it a firm squeeze. 

You continue to read the menu and decide on seafood - you have to, you’re in Hawaii - and so does everyone else at the table. It is the restaurant’s specialty, after all. By the time the waitress comes to take your order, the four of you are all getting along great.

“So you guys all work on cars, huh?” 

“And bikes,” Sam nods at you.

“Do you guys all have motorcycles?” you glance around the table.

“Yeah, we do,” Bucky confirms.

You can easily picture him leather-clad, thick thighs straddling a Harley and his hand resting on the throttle. The thought makes you clench your thighs together and, based on the way Bucky’s thumb begins to rub circles into your thigh and he smirks at you, you assume he notices. 

“So what do you have planned for the rest of the week?” Steve questions you, oblivious to Bucky’s hand on you underneath the table.

“Well I’m going snorkeling tomorrow. I also want to hit the beach, maybe take a surf lesson. Horseback riding and hiking sounds fun too, though. What all have you guys done?”

“Well,” Sam starts, “we just got in yesterday, so we haven’t really done much yet.”

“Oh, so you guys got here the same day I did, then. When are you guys leaving?”

“Saturday, how about you?” Bucky answers you. 

“Sunday morning.”

“I’m sure you’ll be sick of Bucky by then,” Sam chortles.

Thinking about spending the rest of the week with Bucky puts a smile on your face and you hope he wants to spend more time with you, too. Eventually, the food comes and you all dig in. It’s so delicious that you’re not even mad about how expensive it was. Bucky lets out a groan of delight as he takes his first bite. 

“This is so good, doll. You want to try?” 

You nod and he raises his fork to your lips. He feeds you a bite of his food and you agree, it is delicious. You pull your attention away from Bucky just in time to see Sam whispering something into Steve’s ear, to which Steve chortles and nods.

“What are you guys talking about?” Bucky returns his attention to his friends.

“Nothing, man,” Steve dismisses him.

Bucky shoots them a warning look but drops it. 

The rest of the meal is filled with stories from their time in the army and Steve informs you that Bucky was a sergeant. You’re thankful that they don’t pressure you with too many questions about your boring life back in the city. The conversation flows easy and after a couple more rounds of drinks, the four of you are laughing so hard that you’re drawing attention from other tables. When everyone finishes eating, you excuse yourself to the bathroom and find your waitress. You give her your credit card, insisting that she charges the bill to your card.

You’d been having a great time with Bucky and his friends so far and you wanted to thank them for inviting you to have dinner with them. They had been so welcoming to you and have made your trip less lonely, even if only for one night. You return to the table.

When the waitress comes back to your table, she returns your credit card to you and the three men share a confused look.

Bucky cocks his head at you, “Did you pay for yourself already, doll? I was going to.”

“She actually covered the whole table,” the server informs them before leaving.

“Wait, what? You paid for us all?” Steve asks in disbelief.

Sam looks to you, waiting for an answer. Bucky just looks at you, brows furrowed. 

“Yeah. I just wanted to thank you guys for being so inviting. I enjoyed hanging out with you all tonight,” you look down at the table, feeling almost as if you’d done something wrong. 

Sam says your name, “That was really unnecessary, but thank you. We enjoyed your company. We get sick of each other, it was nice to have you join us. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah,” Steve concurs, “I’m glad you could come. You really didn’t have to do that, but thank you, sincerely.”

“It’s not a big deal, guys. It was no problem.”

You turn to look at Bucky. He’s still in the same position - eyes trained on you and brows furrowed. You worry you’ve done something wrong and gently reach between the two of you and take his hand in yours. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and finally speaks. 

“Thank you,” you can tell there’s more he wants to say, though. Your group stands and heads to the front to wait for another taxi. After you step out the front doors, Bucky softly grabs your arm, holding you back. Steve and Sam continue walking. 

“Thank you for paying, I really appreciate the gesture. But I invited you tonight because I enjoy spending time with you and I wanted you to meet my friends. You shouldn’t have had to pay for your own dinner tonight, let alone everyone else’s. I do appreciate it, though, and I know Steve and Sam did too,” he gives you a sincere look and you sheepishly look down at the ground. He lifts his hand to cup your face and tilts it up to him, forcing you to make eye contact. “But all that being said, don’t you dare try and pull that again,” he says in a more authoritative tone.

You feel a wetness forming in your panties at the soft yet demanding tone he uses. You’re too shocked at the sudden dominance that you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod up at him. 

“Good girl,” he praises in a low voice.

“You guys coming or what?” you hear Sam’s voice call.

You hadn’t even realized that taxi had arrived. Bucky leans down and presses a kiss to your lips before leading you to the car with a hand on the small of your back. Bucky sits inbetween you and Sam again and rests a hand on your thigh, dangerously close to slipping underneath the hem of your dress that had ridden halfway up your thighs. All you can focus on the whole car ride back to the resort is the feel of Bucky’s calloused hands on your leg and the pulsing at the apex of your thighs.

After what feels like hours, the cars pulls to a stop in front of the resort and you step out of car, followed by Bucky, who places his hand back on you immediately after he gets out. Steve and Sam make conversation, Bucky occasionally making a noncommittal grunt in response. After the elevator brings all of you to the fifth floor, Steve and Sam say goodnight and thank you again for dinner. You don’t miss the way Bucky’s hand tightens around your hip when they mention you paying for dinner. You say goodnight to them and they look at Bucky, probably expecting him to say goodnight and follow them back to their rooms. 

You’re not quite sure what you expect Bucky to do, but all you know is that the tension is thicker than Bucky’s biceps that are currently straining against his shirt sleeves.

“I’ll catch up with you guys in a little bit,” he tells his friends without taking his eyes off you.

“Okayyy,” Steve drags out the word as him and Sam turn and walk away, muttering and laughing to themselves.

Once you and Bucky are alone in the hall, he gently backs you up against the wall. He leaves one hand on your hips and tangles the other in your hair. He pulls you into a kiss that you fervently reciprocate. You’re sure that your panties are soaked at this point. You clench your thighs together, desperate for some friction. Bucky spreads your legs with his knee and slots his thigh against your center, forcing your dress to rise up. You moan into his mouth at the relief and buck your hips into him, your drenched underwear are dragging across his pants and you’re sure they’ll leave a dark spot from your arousal. 

Bucky pulls away from the kiss, but pushes his thigh harder against you. He leans down to whisper in your ear. “Dirty fuckin’ girl,” his voice is filled with lust, “Rutting up against my thigh in the middle of the hallway, skirt up so anyone can see how soaked your panties are for me.”

You whimper into Bucky’s ear. It turns you on to hear such filthy things coming from his usually polite mouth.

“Please, Bucky,” you beg, desparate for release.

“Please what, babydoll? Tell me what you need,” he demands.

He presses his bulge into your stomach and you can’t string together a sentence.

“I know, honey. You just wanna come, huh?” he looks down at you with a pitying expression and you nod your head so hard you get dizzy, too fuzzy-headed to care how desperate you look. He chuckles at you, “Say it. Tell me you need me to take care of you.”

“Please, Bucky! Make me come, take care of me. Just do something, please!” you sound absolutely wrecked and the groan Bucky lets out while he rocks his hips into you lets you know he gets off on it. 

“Fuck. Unlock your door, princess,” he tells you, pulling away and waiting by your door.

You’re surprised at how quickly you manage to dig you key card out of your purse and open the door in your aroused state. As soon as the door is open, Bucky grabs you and spins you around to face him.

“Jump,” he orders.

You drop throw your purse onto the table and wrap your arms around Bucky’s neck before jumping. He catches you by the backs of your thighs and effortlessly carries you to the bed, peppering kisses along your face and neck the whole way.

He throws you onto the bed and pulls off your shoes, placing a kiss to each of your shins. He then flips you onto your stomach and unties your dress. The way he manhandles you so easily sends a fresh gush of arousal to your core. He helps you shimmy out of your dress as he kicks off his shoes. You’re left in only your panties and he takes in the sight of your practically naked body and groans. He uses one hand to undo his belt and uses the other to reach down and palm your breast. 

“Goddamn, babydoll. No bra?” 

You don’t have the mental capacity to explain that you wouldn’t have been able to wear one with the open back dress, settling instead for reaching up and pulling him down by his collar until he’s straddling your hips. He leans back and unbuttons his shirt, exposing his broad chest and defined abs one button at a time, throwing it to the floor when he’s done. He has a dark trail of hair leading down into his dress pants where you can see the large outline of his hardened cock. He leans down atop of you, veiny forearms resting on either side of your head. 

He snakes a hand down between the two of you and dips his fingers in the waistband. “Can I take these off, babydoll?”

You nod and reach to his neck, trying to pull him down for a kiss. Much to your dismay, he doesn’t budge. 

“Need words, honey.”

“Yes Bucky, please.”

“Good girl,” he rewards you by leaning down and pressing his lips to yours.

His hand makes its way beneath your panties and he runs a finger through your abundant wetness, dragging it up to your clit. He uses your slick to rub circles into the sensitive bud. He pulls away from the kiss and you try to chase his mouth. He stops you by holding your head to the mattress with a hand on your jaw. He squeezes your cheeks until your mouth opens. He looks down at you and spits directly into your mouth.

“Swallow for me, baby.”

You follow his order without a second thought. Once you swallow, he brings his hand down to your neck. He rewards you by bringing a finger to your entrance and slowly pushing into your tight hole. 

“Fuck, doll. I wanna be in this perfect little pussy. Do you want that? Want me to fill you up with my big cock? Wanna feel me deep inside you?”

“Yes, Bucky! Fu- I want it so-fuck so bad.”

He quickly adds a second finger and begins pumping them inside you at a brutal pace. His hand on your throat tightens ever so slightly and he watches your face to gauge your reaction. When your eyes roll back into your head and your pussy clamps down on his fingers, he grins and tightens his grip a little more.

The lack of blood flow to your head makes you feel fuzzy in the best way. You feel yourself getting close to your orgasm. Bucky keeps his pace as he fucks you on his fingers and keeps a careful eye on you, watching for the telltale signals of your climax. When he sees you squeeze your eyes shut and feels your pussy clench, he pulls his hand out altogether. 

You look up at Bucky and loosens his grip on your neck, but keeps his hand resting there. You buck your hips up, your orgasm fading away rapidly. Bucky uses one hand to pin your hips to the bed.

“Bucky, no,” you whine, “I was so close.”

“I know, doll,” he gives you a mischievous smirk. “You were a bad girl earlier when you paid for dinner. You’re supposed to let me treat you. Let me take care of you. You wouldn’t let me take care of you then, so I’m not sure I should take care of you now.”

“Bucky please,” you beg, “Won’t do it again, promise. Just-nngh just take care of me please. Need you to make me come,” you hope your pleading is enough to convince him.

Bucky lets out a deep groan and smashes his lips against yours. He makes his way down your torso, stopping to pay special attention to your nipples. He ever so softly bites down on your nipple and you thread your fingers through his hair. He continues to trail kisses down your stomach. When he reaches your panties, he places wet kisses against the soaked fabric. You try to buck up into his mouth, but his hand is still pinning you down.

Finally, he reaches into the waistband of your panties and you raise your hips, allowing him to pull them down your legs and throw them on the floor with your dress. You get another glimpse of the rock-hard bulge in his dress pants and you know that can’t be comfortable for him, but his attention is all on you right now. He makes himself comfortable between your legs and uses his hands to spread your pussy apart, getting a good look at it.

“Fucking perfect. Prettiest damn pussy I’ve ever seen, baby.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, his lips are on you. He sucks your clit into his mouth and flicks at it with his tongue. You grab onto his hair with one hand and grab the sheets with the other. The screams you let out are almost pornographic. He alternates between licking your arousal up from where it’s seeping out of your hole and giving your sensitive clit attention. In an embarrassingly short amount of time, you feel yourself returning to the edge of the orgasm you’d just been denied. 

He laps at your core and uses both hands to hold your hips down onto the bed. When your heavy breathing and the movement of your hips give away your oncoming orgasm, he pulls away again. 

“NOO,” you practically scream, on the verge of tears. “Bucky,” you sob. 

“That one was for giving me a hard on at dinner when you downed that whiskey.”

Before you have a chance to complain anymore, he places one last kiss on your clit and stands from the bed. You watch as he undoes his pants and they pool at his ankles. You can see a wet spot on his boxers where he’d been leaking precum. He drops those too and you’re met with the sight of him. His cock bobs up against his stomach.

He’s thick and long, with a patch of dark curly hair at his base. The tip is pink and shiny with his arousal. Your mouth waters at the sight and you want nothing more than to lick it off, but he crawls back onto the bed before you can make any move to do so. He hovers over you and you can feel the weight of his cock resting on your lower stomach. 

“You want this, honey? Want to come all over my cock? Want me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk in the morning?” he ruts against your stomach, waiting for a response.

“Please, Bucky. ‘S all I want. Ah- fuck. Need it so bad. I need to come.”

“I got you, sweet girl,” he gives you a reassuring look as he grabs his base and guides himself to your drenched core.

He pushes his fat tip into you, watching your face for any signs of pain. You’re so wet and aroused that he almost slides right in. You try to push your hips down, desparate to feel him deeper. He’s quick to pin you down again. 

“Greedy girl.”

He eases himself into you at his own pace until his hips are flush against yours. You feel his pubic hair rubbing at your clit and begin to claw at his back, needing him to move.

“Fuck me, Bucky. Ah- god damn it,” you look up at him with pleading eyes, “Need you to move, baby.”

For the first time tonight, he listens to one of your demands. He slowly pulls all the way out, letting you feel every inch of his cock before he slams back in so hard it pushes you up the mattress. He braces himself with one arm on the bed and holds your hip with his other hand and sets a brutal pace. He thrusts deep and hard, tip pounding against your cervix with every punishing thrust. He moves the hand on your hip to rub at your clit.

“I’m not gonna last long baby. Fuck- be ah- be a good girl and come for me.”

You’re not far off and when he hits that spongy spot inside of you, you let out a scream. 

“Fuck, right there!” you pant.

He rubs at your clit and thrusts into your g-spot. You feel yourself hurdling toward your orgasm for the third time tonight. Except this time, when you clamp down around Bucky’s cock, he redoubles his efforts instead of stopping. You see stars when you reach your peak and you drag your nails down Bucky’s back. 

“Such a good girl for me, fuck. Where-ah where do you want me baby?”

“Inside, Bucky, please,” you want to know what it feels like to be full of his cum. “I’m on the pill.”

“Fuck, doll. So fucking good for me. My girl’s so good.”

You don’t miss the way he calls you his girl. And you certainly don’t mind it.

Bucky’s thrusts become shallow and his pace falters. He slams into you one last time and buries himself as deep as he can before shooting hot ropes of his seed into you. Once he empties his balls into you, he leans down, bracing himself on his forearms so as not to crush you. He slots his lips against yours and the two of you share breaths as you come down from your highs.

Once the two of you have caught your breath, he slowly pulls out of you. He places a kiss on your forehead and walks to the bathroom. You eye the dimples in his buttcheeks as he walks away. He returns shortly with a wet cloth and kneels between your thighs. He gingerly cleans his mess, aware of how sensitive you are. 

When he finishes, he throws the cloth onto the floor and climbs up the bed to join you. You climb under the sheets and fold them over on the other side, offering Bucky the space. He happily lays down next to you and pulls you into his chest.

“You’re beautiful, doll. I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did.”

“It was so good, Buck,” you manage to respond in your exhausted state. 

“I’m sure you’d enjoy it more if I didn’t have to punish you, too,” you can’t see his face, but you know he has a cocky smirk on his face.

“You’ll have to show me, then.”

“Oh, believe me, sweet girl, I plan to.”

You fall asleep against Bucky’s strong chest, his hand scratching soothingly at your back.

[karalovesallthegirls]

After years of pain and love and slow-building hope, Lena and Kara marry.

They are so in love Lena can hardly breathe sometimes from the weight of it. Life has meaning, the world is beautiful. Somehow, despite the odds and atrocities constantly suffocating her, Lena was blessed with her happy ending. The one sweet reward she’d ever had. They were so happy together, always waking in each others embrace. Always sharing kisses and giggles and sighs between work and warfare. They’re so happy that morning that Kara is called to the pier. Some dispute between aliens, nothing to worry about of course - they just need Supergirl to make sure it stays civil. She kisses Lena on the cheek that morning, promises to bring her lunch when she’s done, and then never comes back.

They don’t have an answer for Lena. Even after years of investigation and analysis, no one can tell her what or why it happened. All they can say is one moment Supergirl was there, and the next she was gone. There’s no body, but the Geiger readings are so high they say the Kryptonite must have melted her in a flash. One minute she’s there - her wife, her hero - and then she’s gone. Taken from the universe forever. Taken from Lena.

It nearly kills her, too, the loss. Kara was the one light she had in this life, and it was snuffed out like nothing. She almost lets it kill her. She wants it to, really, but Kara’s voice in her heart won’t let her give up. Despite her deepest desires to be with her wife Lena pushes on. She spends years pulling herself back from the brinks of despair and rebuilding herself into a new Lena. Not the same one, never the same without Kara, but something close. She finds a way to bear the pain. What Kara would have wanted.

And then, as unexpectedly as her second love had, her first returns to her. Slowly, somehow, Andrea finds her way back into Lena’s life. She’s different now, too, and Lena learns she’s lost her life’s light as well. Lena would recognize that look in anyone’s eyes. There’s no hiding a lost love like that. But Andrea has had longer in her grief, her scars less raw. She’s able to hold her pain and still hold Lena, too.

Andrea is remorseful and repenting and so acutely aware of the new scars Lena carries, and in her own twisted sort of way she’s good for Lena. No one else can see Lena like Andrea does, no one else can stare into the depths of her sorrow without flinching. The world mourns Supergirl, and the few mourn Kara Danvers, but only Lena mourns her wife. Alex mourns her, of course, as do their friends, but not the way Lena does. Never that way. There is a hole in her chest that will never close, and no one else will ever fill it.

And Andrea knows that. She never tries to fill it, never tries to replace. She holds Kara in her heart with a begrudging reverence. She knows the only reason she has Lena is because of Kara. Because she died, yes, but more so because she loved her. Her love opened Lena up again. Gave her hope. Made her believe in second chances. Kara was the light, Kara was the greatest lover and friend and hero anyone could have. She’s a dead god, and Andrea finds herself a parishioner.

Andrea loves Kara, in her own way. She’s an aspiration, a tormentor, a ghost that haunts the halls of their life. She’s in every embrace they share, every whispered word. When she finally convinces Lena to marry her, their wedding photos hang proudly beside those from her wedding to Kara. They both mention Kara by name in their vows. Kara is as real in their relationship as she is. And it works for them.

The jealousy is always there, what with living in the shadow of a fallen superhero, but it’s manageable. She knows she can win against a dead woman. And the pain and humiliation and constant pick of jealousy at the back of her skull is worth it because Lena is worth it. No one is worth more than her. And Andrea tries to make her happy - she promised that to Kara in her vows, after all. She made vows to Lena, and then made vows to Lena’s love: I will honor and cherish her as you would. I will protect her as you would. I will love her with all I have, as you would. I know the shoes I’m filling, and I will spend my life proving I’m worthy.

Andrea meant her vows and she keeps them. She loves Lena, and in her own way Lena loves her, and it’s enough. She’s happy. Andrea is so happy, and sometimes she sees that happiness in Lena, too. They build a life together and it’s good.

Then one day, Kara comes back from the dead, and everything falls apart.

[faerunnn]

Reminiscing

(gif found here!)

Tav x Astarion (GN reader)

Word count: 2136

Note: I changed the way the events of the story go a little in this, it just made more sense to me this way. Just a quick heads up! I really hope whomever reads this can find the comfort in the sadness. I know i certainly do. Sending a big hug either way <3 (also thanks again so much for the love on ''Pain'', i really liked reading the notes and reblog comments <3)

The cool autumn breeze flew through your hair, strands flowing with the ever changing directions of the wind. Closing your eyes for just a brief moment, taking a deep breath, a small smile forms on your lips. Somehow this moment felt more peaceful than the last few months have been. A rare moment in an orbit of continued chaos that has become your life. You open your eyes, looking over the bustling streets, sinking paths that lead to other taverns, other houses, other lives. There were a few boats in the harbor of Baldur’s gate, a few more lingering in the lagoon. The sun set a while ago, but the faint oranges and purples are still visible at the edge of the water. Folding your arms over each other you lean more into the railing of the top roof of the tavern. Somehow a moment of peace and quiet whilst the lost voices of people talking, sounds of tankards clinking and music being played slowly fades. You let your thoughts drift off. Only for a moment.

It has only been a few weeks since the city was freed of mind flayers, the absolute and all the destruction it brought with it. Only 8 weeks since you tried to rebuild your life in the only town you could somewhat call home. The process of even remotely taking all the events in has been painfully slow. Slower than you expected. Slower than you wanted to admit. 

When you got abducted by the nautiloid, life moved at a fast pace. You were gone for months, fighting your way back to Baldur's gate. The desperation grew heavier and heavier with each step you and your companions took. You all grew so close in such a short period of time. But that was a given, being together 24/7. It somehow feels like a blur now. You went from not trusting a single soul, ready to fight and kill everyone who even dared to take a step in your direction, to making the best of friends you never had. 

But there was something more. You fell in love. A pale elf, white curly hair and deep red eyes. You could never forget his face. No matter how hard you try. The way he managed to break down the walls you had built and maintained for years so easily. He took a place in your heart, one reserved for him. Like he was meant to reside there. You fell first, but he fell harder. You were there for each other. For the first time in both of your lives you were not alone anymore. Surrounded by people who you cared for and loved you. A terrifying thought, yet the comfort you felt knowing you didn't have to fight your battles alone anymore was far greater than the fear. 

After the big battle there was only one thing left to do. You all had planned this for almost the entire adventure. Cazador was to die. Astarion was to finally be free. The last thing left to do. Stop the ritual, kill Cazador and live free. All he had ever wanted was to be free. So when he decided to ascent himself against your better judgements, you were shocked to say the least. Only wanting him to finally have the control and happiness in his life that he deserved, you supported him. But the outcome was much different than you had ever anticipated. The sweet, soft Astarion you came to grow and love was gone. The nights you spend looking at the stars, talking about everything and anything. It faded faster than snow before the sun. You couldn't recognise him anymore. His desire for more power, to become even greater than anyone the city or even Faerun has ever seen became the number one priority for him. He didn't want to settle down anymore, did not want to live a quiet and civil life in the city, or any place for that matter, anymore. All of it was gone. And there was nothing you could do. You tried staying with him after. Not wanting to give up the bond you had built. But you quickly realized that whatever it was that you were trying to mend, was not there anymore. How could you fix something that doesn't exist? So one night,whilst he was away, you wrote him a letter; left it on the bed and left the palace grounds quietly and quickly. Not even once looking back at the love you had lost. 

For the past 6 weeks you have been staying with Karlach. Finding comfort in talking about everything with her. Shadowheart has been stopping by when she could too. All speaking of the struggles of finding comfort in a quiet life. The battleground and struggles had been the comfort of your lives for so long that everything about this life felt alien, unfamiliar. But it was so nice to not be alone in all of this. Astarion had made no efforts in mending things with you. He knew you couldn't be far. This city was all you had left. Yet he has not once made the effort to find you. 

Slowly you had been trying to get back out there. Doing odd jobs for elder neighbors, taking small walks by the water, reading in the park. Trying to find new hobbies, what you seek comfort in. things that made you truly happy. It had been a tough road. But slowly you were getting there. Rediscovering your interests, igniting old, dull flames of joy within your heart. 

Tonight was one of the first times that you had properly been out of the house without Karlach or Shadowheart. Meeting up with friends from the past had been on your to do list for a while, but the fear of reaching out had been greater than the idea of experiencing the joy of reuniting. But when you ran into Elda while stopping by a local market you had no reason to turn her invitation down. Just a casual night in the tavern you used to go to when times were easier, years ago. 

You snapped out of your memories when you heard someone clear their throats behind you. You stopped slouching over the railing and turned around, expecting a drunk sailor to ask you to move. But you were met with familiar burgundy eyes. Shock washed over your face as you held your breath, not really knowing what to say. 

‘’Hello, pet.’’ He said. A light smirk on his face. You hated how much you loved that smirk. The way it would make you feel inside. You knew that he knew this as well. The amount of times you told him all the things you loved about him. You exhaled and swallowed a big gulp of tears. Not wanting to break down. This was not the time. 

‘’Astarion.’’ You said with a somewhat shaky breath, but still trying to sound as polite as possible. There was no reason for drama. No reason for causing a scene. That was the last thing you needed. 

He smiled oh so slightly when he heard you speak his name. You caught it, but how fast it appeared, it faded as well. A much colder and composed face reappeared again. The one you grew familiar with after the ascension. You gave him a tight smile, almost laughing at how fitting that little interaction just now was. 

‘’I had been wondering where you went.’’ he looked around the area. ‘’I expected a little more class from you, darling.’’

‘’Don't call me that, please.’’ It almost came out as a plea. Which truth be told, it was. The feelings had felt so fresh still. You looked at the ground, not even wanting to make eye contact anymore. It was all too much. The feelings and emotions that you had been trying to push away and bury all floating back to the surface. You turn back to face the railing again, trying to compose your thoughts and now staring at the crescent moon grazing the night sky. 

You hear soft footsteps coming closer and from the corner of your eye you see him leaning down next to you. He is wearing much nicer clothes now. Looking all polished and untouchable. You don't dare to look his way. Not being able to speak a single word. You stand there, recollecting your thoughts in a somewhat comfortable silence. 

‘’It doesn't have to be this way, you know.’’ he states after a while. You notice him glancing your way but still refuse to meet his gaze. ‘’I thought you wanted forever. I wanted to give you forever.’’ 

A lump forms in your throat as you hear him speak. Tasting emotion in his tone. A softer voice, pauses between sentences. He is struggling. Whether it is on the same level as you, you don't know. 

‘’You went down a path i can’t follow, Astarion.’’ You finally manage to get out, trying your best not to let the emotions take over your entire demeanor. You look up at him with glassy eyes. A shaky breath escapes your lips while you try to look for the emotion in his face. Even if it was a trace, ever so small. A trace of the old him. The Astarion you fell to love so dearly. But you see nothing. There will forever be a small amount of hope residing in you that he changes his ways. That he will snap out of it and come back to you. That you will pick up where things left off, making the dreams you created true. Together. You would wait for him. Give him the space he needed. But looking at him now, in front of you. He is not there anymore. His face is cold and unmoving. Not a single emotion or reaction in response to seeing you in this state, speaking these words to him. 

‘’I wanted forever with you. The rest of my life, for however long that may be. Free. From anyone or anything. No more pacts, no more devils.’’ You start. ‘’No more, anything. Just you and me. A small house, here in the city. Or far away. I didn't care, as long as you would be by my side. But you chose a different future for yourself. More power. More status. More pacts, one with the devil. We had different versions of freedom created in our future. I never wanted to be your pet. Your spawn. I wanted an equal, a partner.’’ Tears ran down your cheeks.hot and warm, in a way they haven't in a while. A feeling you've been trying to suppress and move on from for a while now. You look back at the harbor while you wipe some tears off your face with the back of your hand. You take a deep breath before you continue. 

‘’You broke my heart, Astarion. The way you treated me the weeks before I left. I felt like I had lost everything I fought so hard for. You broke me. I let you in, we let each other in.’’ You emphasize the last part of the sentence in frustration. ‘’I gave you all of me.’’ 

He stands in silence as he takes in everything you’re saying. Again, for a split second you can detect some sort of emotion in his eyes. Sadness. But just like before it fades even quicker than it appeared. He has not changed. The little flicker of hope in your heart, dimming. Maybe you needed this encounter. Maybe this was somehow the universe telling you that it is time to let it go, for good. No looking back anymore. No more waiting around for a small miracle. He gave his soul away. He would never be able to get that back, not from the pact he made.  

You take in his silence, and look back at him, one last time. Taking in his features. He still looks as handsome as you remembered. And you will never not remember him this way. You take one deep breath and just let all the tears settle for a second. 

‘’I honestly and truly hope you are happy now. That you feel and experience the freedom you longed for. You out of all of us maybe deserved it the most.’’ You say and you give him a soft but genuine smile before you turn around completely, ready to walk away. 

‘’Goodbye, Astarion.’’ You say and you walk back into the tavern, not looking back while a single tear escapes your eye once more. You feel his gaze burning into your back but you cannot turn back anymore. This was it. He found his happiness, or so you hoped. And now it is time you find yours.

[starsfic]

Summaries:

After learning about his parentage, Mikey sneaks inside an art auction of Hamato Yoshi's art, learning both about his father and Draxum.

After Iron Fan manipulates her son into a state of possessiveness over his mate, Red and her enter a civil war. DBK and Qi Xiaotian are watching on the sidelines. (Or, Ironbull and Spicynoodles keep fucking in each other's bed. Smut.)

Eros and Psyche AU: Lunar New Year this year is both tense and exciting- Xiaotian's pregnancy will soon be over and Red and DBK are rebuilding a rocky relationship. Both become issues when Spider Queen attacks.

There is a thirst account for Qi Xiaotian, the Monkie Kid, and there is a thirst account for Red Son. Both men run the other account secretly, admitting their dirtiest fantasies about their rival to Twitter. And then Xiaotian slips up. Smut.

After Marinette's horrible excuse of an expulsion, Sabine decides to call on her older sister for help. There is rot in this school, and it'll take a demon queen to root it out.

Chloe successfully crashes and saves a train, with the only casualty being Maribrat's leg. Lila is climbing up the social ladder with her lies, trampling Marinette underfoot. Both queen bees see an opportunity when the school announces its first prom and prom queen contest.

Long Xiaojiao and Qi Xiaotian do everything together. This includes being deflowered by Red Son. (Smut.)

Prince Red is cursed into the horrific form of a bull man, with the only cure being him learning true love. Unfortunately, Red likes his new form too much and scares away the suitors his parents send. He meets his match in the latest suitor, Qi Xiaotian. Smut.

In the wake of learning about Splinter’s real identity, Leo and Raph struggle with deciding on how to handle it. (Or, according to @stylishbutdefinitelyillegal, Hamato Saki earns the Worst Uncle award.)

The first part of Episode 1, when trying to leave their hometown of Crystal Cove to start their second year of college, the Mystery Gang finds themselves trapped in Crystal Cove.

@draw-of-the-moon's Chimera Parents: Pigsy just had to suggest that the kids come along to his grandmother's farmhouse with him and Tang. He just had to go to the store. Hopefully, Chimera will never learn that he let their kids get kidnapped. (Or, Tang opens a scroll labeling the locations of four golden weapons, only for him and Nya to get kidnapped by skeletons. Kai is recruited by a mysterious old man to learn spinjitzu, and Pigsy has child leashes for all three of them.)

LMK S5 theory fic: Erlang Shen is supposed to be on vacation. However, in an hour,he learns that his uncle is dead, someone is trying to do another coup, and Sun Wukong has been filleted again. The people who deliver this news, including mass criminal Master Subodhi, the duo of Ao Lie's descendant and Iron Fan's son, and the creation goddess Nuwa, make things... difficult.

[datura-tea]

this is ABSOLUTELY not meant to disagree with you or anything I've just been a little confused lately (plus love to talk about stuff like this). when you say that the fallout show or modern fallout doesn't understand the themes, what do you mean? Is it that they don't execute them as well/as cleanly, or are there things wholly missing that you'd expect in fallout media? and then bc i love your fallout takes: What are the things you'd want/expect?

hmm. the thing is that the first two fallouts + fnv (and fallout 3 and 4 to an extent) are about a post-post-apocalypse. the world has ended, and now a new world has risen from the ashes. new civilizations, new societies, new life. for me, the core theme of fallout has always been that people will always survive, always rebuild, even after such a catastrophic world-ending event, because that's just our nature. it's only a question of whether people will be rebuilding in the image of the old world or making something entirely new; whether they'll let go and begin again or be stuck with their old world blues

i know the series tagline is "war never changes" which has been taken to mean that society is doomed to violence and war forever and ever and ever but i want to point out that it has been rebutted by ulysses in lonesome road ("if war doesn't change, men must change, and so must their symbols. even if it is nothing at all, know what you follow, courier...") so i had really hoped the show and newer additions to the series would have moved on somewhat. but bethesda are married to their "recently post-apocalypse, violence is rampant, everyone hates everyone else" setting, so we'll be getting random settlement bombings explained away by someone solemnly saying "war never changes..." until they run the IP ragged

[siriusleee]

i. hidden caches

Zombie Apocalypse AU | SIMON RILEY x f!READER

↳ SUMMARY: The world is trying to knit itself back together after fracturing apart. You're trying to put yourself back together with it; Simon Riley is just trying to stay alive. ↳ WORD COUNT: 2.2K ↳ TAGS: mentions of cannibalism, mentions of shooting things, mentions of dying. smut to come. canon typical violence to come. additional tags to come as the story progresses. female reader. no mentions of "your name". reader is given a nickname later on. nc-17. ↳ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to the lovely anon who asked for a scene from an apocalypse au, and this idea was born. If you'd like to donate to my Ko-Fi (my bed frame broke this week and a new one was $200 I didn't have), I would appreciate it. ↳ TAG LIST: There will not be a tag list for this story, as Tumblr has issues with letting me tag people. To get notifications of updates, please subscribe on AO3 or turn on notifications for my blog.

additional chapters | ao3

The ending had come quicker than anyone expected. The epidemics and endemics and pandemics of the years past had given false confidence to everyone. We survived the last thing, the news reporters had said, gray building beneath their eyes, and we can survive this. Behind them images of towns being devoured played. 

Bodies can decompose in as little as nine days. The first to go is the soft tissue: the eyes, the tongue, the soft flesh of the cheeks. When bacteria and insects are introduced, the flesh breaks down faster. Bones take longer - sometimes years to fully wear away into the dust that collects underfoot. But these things - whatever turned them kept them covered in a thin layer of adipocere to protect them from the elements. They kept shuffling along long past the time when they should have reverted back to a primordial soup where they lay.

But they still decomposed. The trick was to stay ahead of them, away from the gnashing teeth that transmitted the virus, away from the hands and feet that never seemed to tire. So few people could. Whole towns and cities were decimated, felled beneath the hordes of horror that ambled slowly past, swallowed up by the feet that didn’t stop moving until they wore themselves down to stubs, which were them pulled forward by hands and knees that never tired. 

But yours did. The familiar path towards the north was more overgrown this year than in the past. For a few years, there had been wary companions, eyes that lingered until the snow and frost rolled in to freeze the Biters where they stood. But as the years wanned on the crowd grew smaller and smaller until you only caught hints of others moving north: horse prints, trash left behind, the occasional Biter left decomposing in the bushes. 

This year there was nothing. Either you had moved too early or there was no one left. The latter is too terrifying, so you push it away and think about whatever groups may wander through here after you.

The woods loom tall above you, the snow that fell earlier in the morning just barely dusting the branches above your head. None of it had reached the leaves that are too waterlogged from recent rains to crunch beneath your feet. A blister is rubbing itself raw at your ankle; you know that if you don’t stop to treat it, it will be unbearable tomorrow, but you brush the thought off. You need to reach the marker before nightfall.

The markers had appeared between one trip north and your trip back down. 

West Village - 20km

The first year it had appeared left the group you were with in a tizzy. The group had fractured down the middle. If all of you found each other, how hard was it to think that a larger group had finally banned together? Civilization needed to rebuild eventually.

You didn’t trust the shaky scrawl that printed the words, so you had been with the group that refused to go. The next year there was another marker tacked to the first.

Body snatchers. Beware.

It was amazing to you: how well rumors could start and spread without phones or the internet. For months, every person you and your group came across would give the same warning, and ask you all the same questions. Have you seen the body snatchers? Are you the body snatchers?

Humans turned cannabolids. Farms where people were forced to reproduce. Spits with babies roasting above the fire. You wanted to think that it was the stuff of fiction.

In the third year, there was another argument. The group cleaved in half again when the promise of civilization reared its head. Your group had divided again at the markers, disappearing into the thick woods. 

Almost no one survived the winter that year. You’d held the hands of all the dying and covered them under a thick blanket of snow before dividing their possessions up between the remainder of the group. In the end, there were just three of you. And when the winter rolled away you all broke apart, whatever ties that held you all together broken by the cold. 

The next year you were the only one in your camp. 

The markers had become a sort of prayer to you, that one day you’d meet someone else on the road - some scream and shout that there were others out there even if you were too wary to speak to them.

But it’s been two years - the crude paint of the West Village sign fading, the body snatchers warning falling to the earth unceremoniously. The wood started to rot. 

And you were utterly alone. Around you, the sound of nature getting ready for the winter fills in the ever-present silence that usually surrounds you. It’s been weeks since you’d last seen a person: a lone traveler moving in the opposite direction as you. And you’d hid from them, worried that they were the sort of feral people turned into when they were alone for too long - a body snatcher. Worried that you were that kind of feral. 

You know the markers when you approach them like your body’s memorized the number of steps it takes to reach them. Your chest thumps as you approach the spot where they should be nailed to a tree, growing taller into the air each year. Your boots falter against the wet leaves as you approach the place. 

The markers have been repainted. Or at least the West Village one has. This time it’s nailed to a post in the ground; you bend down to inspect the dirt around the post. It’s packed underneath a thick layer of loam - whoever put it up must have put it up much earlier in the year. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. You wonder if any members of your former group are still there. 

For half a second, you think about following the arrow, but before the thought can fully form in your head, you let your feet carry you forward on the path. Just ahead is the rest area you’ve always used. Your tree, one with branches high enough that the only things who can see you are the birds whose nests you disturb, erupts from the ground ahead of you.

You climb up like you were taught; throwing your rope onto the first branch you can physically reach and lash it to yourself. It’s more difficult to climb the tree with your pack and bow, but you don’t want to risk leaving it behind for anyone who may come through after you. When you reach the point where the rope reaches the tree, you pull yourself onto the branch. The blister on your ankle is screaming, but you don’t pause until your hammock is secure and your harness is wrapped around you. The cool wind cuts through the thin fabric of the hammock, but it’s not too cold as you peel back your socks to reveal an angry raw spot crawling across your ankle.

Too tired to do much more, you slide your other boot off, tying them together and then to your pack. The gentle sway of the trees makes your eyelids heavy, and you let yourself drift off into the first good night's sleep you’ve had in a while. 

The bitter cold wakes you up, the wind moving your hammock back and forth gently. The darkness spins above you, clouds backlit by the moon. Not for the first time you think about how easy it used to be, curled up with another warm body beneath the thick blankets - how easy it was to switch on the percolator in the morning and wrap your hands around a warm cup of coffee, how easy -

You press the heel of your hands into your eyes and try to press away the thoughts that are racing through your brain. Remembering the before drives people crazy; you’ve seen how it can eat people up and you refuse to let it eat at you. So you pull your thermal blanket closer around yourself and try to get some sleep.

But the sun rises earlier than you expected and extra sleep never comes. 

It doesn’t take long for you to pack what little you have back in your pack and descend back down. At the bottom you dig out the little bit of jerky you still have saved from the summer months; it’s disgusting, but it’s enough to push you forward to the next place. 

You walk the entire time with your bow in your hand, waiting for some animal to run out in front of you and meet its mark, but the forest is silent today as you push towards the next stop in your journey north, a small nameless village secluded away from the rest of civilization - just good enough to sleep in for the night. 

The sun has just started to sink below the treeline when the village finally springs into view. The blister on your ankle has popped, and you think you can feel blood rushing into your sock, but you don’t dare stop and check; you don’t want the scent of fresh blood to attract any Biters that may be hidden away for now. Your fingers cramp around the bow and your stomach growls. You’d picked a smooth rock up from the ground hours earlier and popped it into your mouth to try and trick yourself into thinking you were eating something, but it hadn’t worked. If anything it made your hunger worse.

There was salvation coming - on your second year coming through here you’d snuck off from the group and buried a cache. Each year you did your best not to touch it unless it was to refill something inside of it, but this year you knew you’d have to empty it. 

You crunch over tire tracks that crisscross over each other on the main road into the village; they’re dry enough that you know whoever managed to scrape up enough gas to drive in and out was gone, but the thought of someone driving up on you made you nervous, and make your steps quicken. If people were driving through here then you needed to be gone before sunlight tomorrow. 

Weary, you push yourself towards the back half of the village to a little two-story you know well. It had been the same house your group, and then yourself, slept in each year on your way to the north camp; in the back, beneath an overturned chair that was slowly rotting with time, your little cache was stored. 

You shoulder your way through the half-rotted back gate and freeze. The chair is tossed to the side, rusted parts puzzle pieced across the ground. And directly where your cache had been buried is a hole, smoothed over from time and rain. 

You could cry if you had any water left in you to cry. So instead you walk numbly into the house - habit making you click the lock on the door even though it’s long since stopped working. The same thick dust that was here last year is still across the floor, so thick your steps don’t even disturb it. You pass through the living area and up the steps. On the landing, you don’t pause - to the left of you is the nursery that’s always been empty. The first few times you’d stopped here the sight of the broken-down white crib and sage walls made something ache inside of you, and you’d learned not to look. It’s better to just let things alone and try to stifle your imagination.

The attic ladder swings down with ease and you test your weight on the rungs before climbing up - any broken bones and you may as well just shoot yourself where you lay. It creaks ominously beneath you but keeps as you clamber through the hole. You let yourself collapse on the floor beside the ladder after pulling it up, and wrapping a rope around the ladder to keep anyone from pulling it down in the night. All at once, hunger and exhaustion pull you down towards the floor. 

You’ll have to shoot something tomorrow and check the well for fresh water. There are still to many miles before you make it north enough to be safe for the winter, and you won’t make it without water and food. 

You try to distract yourself from the cramping of hunger and how little water is left in your jug by peeling your boots off. As you’d thought, the blister had split and bled, but thankfully your sock had caught most of it. 

You clean up the best you can in the dusty light filtering in from the little window that looks out the back garden and wonder who could have known the cache was there. An old group member who spotted you checking it in the past? Or was it a lucky guess, someone who came through after you and spotted the freshly disturbed dirt and came to the right inference?

You try to tell yourself it doesn’t matter as you pull your thermal blanket from your pack and lay down, but you can’t quite convince yourself of that lie. 

[awkward-tension-art]

Bacta and Bandages Chp.3 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 2. Chapter 4.

First Mission

CW: Clone mistreatment, Medical procedures, needles, Death, destruction, mentions of an epidemic, nothing graphic, Reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), reader is a doctor, if I miss a tag LMK!

Minors DNI also this is MINIMALLY PROOFREAD

You had a couple of weeks to establish yourself and settle with the 501st. It worked out well, because it allowed you to get to know the soldiers more.

Plus, no mission meant you had some free time to learn mando’a. It was basic at best, but you knew how to greet someone and find out where their pain is located, as well as other basic conversation.

It’s what you were doing at the moment. As you tidied up the medical bay, the robotic voice of a teaching droid came from the datapad on your desk. The holo was a program fit more for academy students, but you had to start somewhere.

“Ni cuy' a baar'ur,” You had managed to gear the learning towards medical language. Just to let you do your job better for the clones. Currently, the program was going over what to say when dealing with a patient.

“Very good. Where is your pain?”

“Vaii cuyir gar aaray?” You paused. The word for pain, aaray, always sounded off to you, “Vaii cuyir gar aaray?” Your words repeated.

You felt your damn soul leave your body when another voice interrupted.

“Ner kov'nyn bal ner haalas.” Rex was standing in the doorway, one hand on his hip, the other held his helmet. 

You didn’t know the exact sentence, and you had to think for a moment before looking up at him, “Head and…chest?”

He smirked and nodded, “That’s correct.” the captain stepped to your desk and looked at the holo-program that was still waiting for a response from you. “You’re learning Mando’a?”

“I thought it might help the troopers feel more comfortable,” You approached, tapping the tablet and pausing the holo-program, “I hope that's alright…” 

“It's more than alright, it's…it's a wonderful thought.” Rex had a genuine smile, “The men will appreciate it.” However, he cleared his throat, “However, General Skywalker needs you on the bridge.” 

Your heart raced, did something happen? Did you do something wrong?

“It’s about our next mission.” The captain explained, most likely catching your rising anxiety, “It's a relief mission, and your expertise with medical care is needed.” 

Oh! The breath you let out was one of relief, “Yes, of course…let's go to the bridge then.” 

The walk was quick. You’ve gotten used to the halls and paths of the venator now. Though, admittedly, you’ve gotten terribly lost a couple times. Once, you ended up in the reactor section and if you hadn’t found R2-D2, you’d have to embarrass yourself by asking a soldier to help guide you.

Once on the bridge, you saluted the general and commander in greeting, “You called for me, sir?”

Anakin Skywalker nodded, “We need your expertise, doctor,” He tapped a button on the console, bringing up a holomap of a planet with 4 moons, “The planet of Cherenity had a planet-wide epidemic and a series of natural disasters that caused total societal collapse. There were riots, famine, civil war and complete chaos.”

You frowned, but let him continue. 

“The Jedi have been called to try and help rebuild and offer relief. We need your help in dealing with the wounded and establishing medical care again.” He finished, standing up. He put his hands behind his back and looked at you, “What do you say?”

Ah. set up a medical center, help with supplies and maybe teach some procedures to the locals. 

You raised a hand to your chin, mentally working out the logistics, “One hospital for an entire planet will be overwhelmed. I’d like to have Kix with me to help deal with the injured.” Your eyes met Rex’s, “If that's alright with you, Captain.”

“He’s all yours.” He nodded. 

You smirked, and turned back to face General Skywalker, “When do we arrive?”

“We have an hour to prepare.” He informed everyone, “Thank you, Doctor. Get to work everyone. Dismissed.”

First mission…

You’d be a liar if you didn’t say you were nervous. Yes, you were a capable doctor. But…

Well, in soldier terms, you were no better than a shiny. A rookie.

You were in the hangar double checking the crates of supplies when Kix approached and saluted, “Doctor, I’ve been informed I will be aiding you in this mission.”

Your tone was calm and even, “You and I are going to help establish something of a medical care center for the survivors on Cherenity,” You looked over to him, “But, this will be my first mission, and I’m a doctor before I’m a soldier…I might follow your lead if the situation calls for it.”

He gave you an understanding smile, “I remember my first mission…It can be overwhelming but you’ll get used to it,” The medic melted into a friendly, approachable attitude, “Since it’s a relief mission, it should be easy. But if there's any danger I’ll show you what to do.” 

How kind. Very polite too.

“Thank you, Kix.” 

Before you loaded up, you checked your gear. Because of your rank and position, you didn’t wear the same heavy, clunky armor as the other soldiers. You were outfitted with movement and supplies in mind. Armor was minimal, only enough to protect your chest, calves and wrists. The uniform, made of protective yet light material, was red and white, indicating your medical personnel status.

In a perfect galaxy, this would mean no one would try to kill you. But…well, war crimes weren’t unheard of. Sometimes adversaries would specifically target medics.

With a calming breath, you stepped on the gunship with Kix and a few other soldiers and prepared yourself mentally. There were certain things you were worried about. With no sterile location, infection rates would be high. Plus, even if the disease that caused the epidemic had killed all of its hosts, it may still be present on the planet. 

And you had no idea how it was spread.

“Something wrong, Doctor?” A trooper next to you noticed. He was a ‘shiny’ judging by his pure white armor. 

“I don’t know yet,” you responded, “Do your helmets have protection against contaminants in the air? Like a virus perhaps?” Your question seemed to startle the poor shiny. 

It was a trooper with a painted flower on his chest that answered, “We have temporary protection. Though it only lasts long enough for us to get out of an area, not really stay in it. Maybe a couple minutes at most.”

You nodded, “We know nothing about this virus that contributed to the planet's collapse. If you, or any trooper feels unwell, come to me.”

Another soldier to your left, Steele, you believe his name is, let out a soft laugh, “Don’t worry about us, Doc. We’re not meant to be a priority.”

“I’ll prioritize whoever I want, thank you.” You responded, just as the gunship landed and the doors opened. 

You stepped off, taking in your surroundings. 

Devastation. The capital of Cherenity, Fushi, from what you could tell, used to be an active, beautiful city. But now, it was a shadow of its former self. The ruins and rubble looked like the buildings used to be made of marble and glass. Now, it was all…destroyed. broken, painted glass was everywhere. Craters littered the formerly stone streets. Smoke billowed at multiple locations in the distance. Occasionally, blaster shots echoed around the ruins, bouncing off the once beautiful walls. 

Your heart twisted.

This was war. You signed up expecting destruction, but not…this….

Kix put a hand on your shoulder, “Doctor?”

“I’m fine.” you shook your head, getting yourself together, “Just…didn’t expect this.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Steele responded, unloading a crate of supplies.

You weren’t sure if that made you feel better or worse. 

You made it to the center of the broken, desolate city. That’s where the Cherians had tried to maintain some semblance of civilization. Innocent people were living either in haphazard tents or the surely dangerously unstable remains of the buildings around.

As you and your group made your way forward, the Cherians pause what they were doing to watch you. 

They were humanoid, with skin tones that ranged from bright red to deep purple that were dotted with scales. All of them had horns of various shapes and sizes that poked out from hair of many different colors as well. Their eyes were all solid white, pupiless and glowing. Among them were some humans, twi’lek and other races as well. 

That didn’t strike you as odd. After all, a planet capital such as Fushi would have a lot of diversity.

You pressed your com at your wrist and raised it to your lips, “General, we’ve made it to where the survivors are camping.”

After a second, Anakin’s voice came through the other end, “Good, start unloading supplies. Ahsoka and I have been…held up.” 

As soon as the Jedi finished speaking, Rex’s voice came through the com, “All units, be advised, thieves and pirates are in the area and may target the supplies and the civilians.”

Fuck…

You swallowed and shared a look with Kix, you were about to speak before getting interrupted by an approaching Cherian. Her pure white hair trailed behind her and her horns gave height over the troopers. Her skin was a soft lavender and she had an aura of peace and calm. 

“Peace,” She greeted, “I am Zenial Ill’ty the Senator of Cherenity.”

Senator? Why isn’t she on Coruscant? Did she come home to try and help the devastation?

“Ma’am,” You nodded in greeting, “General Skywalker is on his way with more supplies, in the meanwhile, I’m his battalion's doctor and am here to help reestablish medical care.” 

Zenial gave you a smile and bowed, “Thank you, healer of the 501st. What is left of our city is open to you. Most of the injured are located at the north end of our camp.”

You bowed to her and motioned for the troopers carrying medical supplies to follow. Kix was beside you as your steps lead you beyond a half shattered green building. Behind it, was the injured and sick. 

There had to have been a few hundred at least. Walking among them were Cherians wearing the same medical symbol as you. However, it was clear they were overwhelmed and unable to help without proper equipment, medicine and housing. 

You steeled yourself. You were a doctor. You worked in a hospital on Coruscant’s lower levels, and that wiped away any naivety you had even before the war. You remained silent, eyes roaming the people and bodies. 

From visual confirmation, you guessed the few doctors had set up ‘zones’ by severity of wounds and illness. 

Good. It made your job easier. 

With a steading breath, you got to work. 

You prioritized those with the most severe wounds. Internal injuries, amputations, massive amounts of blood loss…Your focus was razor sharp as you tended to those you could. The supplies in your pack dwindled to nothing quickly, much to your frustration.

Perhaps it was your expectations. Or maybe it was how you worked in the hospital, but you burned through the supplies in your pack trying to save everyone. 

A twi’lek, with royal blue skin and yellow eyes wheezed and sputtered as you tried to fix his burnt and ripped heart. According to his young daughter, he was searching for food when thieves shot him. It was sheer will that he survived this long. 

You reached for more bacta, only to be stopped by Kix, “Doctor, there isn’t anything else you can do.”

My old mentor told me those words once. You remembered. It was the first patient you had ever lost. A drunken speeder accident. You’d never forget it as their heart stopped beating under your hands.

“But…he can be saved. I know he can.” Your eyes must’ve been wide and confused, “I’ve seen worse wounds.”

The medic next to you had an understanding look, “Maybe in a proper hospital. But on the field…we don’t have the luxury.”

You looked down at the twi’lek, taking in his severe wounds. 

Kix is right. 

You made sure his daughter held his hand as you injected him with painkillers. He drifted off to sleep and was dead within minutes. 

Move on. There are others. 

At some point as you tended to the wounded, General Skywalker and Commander Tano had arrived with food, water and some ‘society rebuilding’ technology. It was hours later when you had gotten done with the most severe patients and were able to get the Cherian healers together to start planning properly. You did your best to ignore how the General watched your moves. 

He was most likely testing you. Making sure you could handle this.

“You’ll need clean water,” You explained, looking over your datapad, “The biggest worry is infection. You can save a life but lose them later to the same wound if it's not kept clean.” Your steps weaved through the wounded patients. Some were already much better than when you arrived, and others were resting peacefully, finally having their pain managed.

“You’ll need to boil the water at the very least to sterilize it,” Your words didn’t falter even after passing by the General who was with Captain Rex, “Same for metal scalpels and other tools. Put them in boiling water to clean them at the very least.”

Kix, who had been walking beside you, handed you a holomap of the immediate area. Once you activated it, you began to plan the new medical center for the Cherians, “It would be best if you had the injured in the most stable building, here.” You pointed at one of the more stable, least destroyed glass and marble building on the map, “The cover will be imperative for those with more severe injuries and illnesses. I’ve had some of the troopers make sure the supports are-”

One of those following you spoke up, “Can we trust what an artificial human says?” 

That question screeched your mind to a halt. You blinked, dumbfounded at the bluntness from the individual in front of you. Your mind had to take a minute to process what you heard.

After getting your thoughts together, you responded, “The troopers are hardworking, reliable men. I trust what they say.”

The Cherian opened their mouth, “But-”

You couldn’t hold back the venom in your words as you cut them off, “Do I need to repeat myself or are we going to have a problem?” Your eyes bore into the individual, practically daring them to argue with you. 

“...No, Doctor.” 

“Good.” Immediately, your tone became calmer, “Now, let's continue.”

Unknown to you, Captain Rex saw your exchange, he couldn’t help the small smile on his lips as you walked away. 

Anakin elbowed his side, smirking at his captain.

[inquisitor-apologist]

Out of all of the MANY missed opportunities and shit in the Ahsoka show, I think one of the biggest was not exploring the really unique time period that the galaxy is in at all.

Like, think about it. The Ahsoka series takes place in ~10 ABY. The Rebellion is gone. The Galactic Civil War is over. The New Republic has established itself. The last Imperial remnants have been driven all the way out into the Outer Rim. People are rebuilding. The First Order and Imperial resurgence is still pretty far off.

The galaxy in Ahsoka is about as peaceful as it ever gets in the main timeline. And they do nothing with it.

What does peace feel like for Ahsoka, who was forced to fight literally every war in the past ~35 years just for being force-sensitive? (Drafted into the Clone Wars, fighting for survival during the Imperial and Rebellion Years, probably returning to the fight in the Civil War because she’s one of the last Jedi/trained force-sensitives) How does she deal with not having a fight she needs to help with? How does she move on from an entire life of exhausting, terrifying war? How does she look at the Jedi coming back, knowing that they’ll never be the Order she chose to leave at 16? Does she want to come back, but not know how? Is she afraid of returning because she knows that there’s no one left to recognize her?

What about Hera, who dedicated her entire life to a war that’s won? The ongoing struggle that defined her childhood, her teenage years, the first two decades of her adulthood is… over. The Republic she fought for, the Republic she gave everything to restore, is restored. How does she adjust to serving in peace? Does the reality of the New Republic compare to the ideal she did it all for? How does she look back on a whole life as a soldier, knowing that it can be over now, if she wants it to be? Is she even able to accept that it’s over, or is she constantly looking for the next threat, the hidden, upcoming war?

And Sabine, who sacrificed her teenage years to the Rebellion, probably her 20s to the Civil War, how does she deal with living on a Lothal that’s long since moved past the need for a protector, in a galaxy that’s completely unrecognizable without a battle to fight? Does she look back at the Rebellion, the Rebels years, as the good old days? Does the rest of her life feel empty and dull without the constant rush of a desperate, uphill war? How does she reconcile a New Republic without Mandalore? How does she feel about the future she always envisioned missing the people she rebelled for in the first place?

But no, Felony was like: Ahsoka sad :( and unemotional bc Vader. Hera smart and 💯% justified about Thrawn. Everyone else just stupid and hates her. Sabine conflicted bc Not Jedi & misses Ezra. Whole family dead 💀 but let’s not focus on that.

Like, come on.

[godihatethiswebsite]

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

✽ Part 8 - On a horse with no name

Let's just assume from now on that I'm incapable of writing anything that could conceivably be referred to as a 'normal length', shall we? I already broke this up with part 7 and I didn't want to give you three chapters of just desert.

Also I have an Ao3 now if any of you would prefer to read it over there instead. All of my works will be cross posted.

Buckle in for this almost 13k monstrosity! :)

Traveling the first leg of the desert was definitely not a glamorous endeavor. Adjusting to a horse’s gait was far different than that of a camel’s pace. Whereas you were familiar with the lateral walk of the former which had diagonal leg pairs moving together, the latter moved in a syncopated rhythm - both legs on one side progressing forward at the same time. 

You quickly learned it was imperative to let your body sway along with the rockiness as it plodded along, tensing up only serving to add discomfort to an already strange motion. It took some getting used to, but once you got past the years of conditioning from riding horseback and into the hang of it you found it a rather enjoyable experience lumbering along over massive sand dunes.

The sweat beaded on your temples, dripping from your brow bone and skiing down the ridge of your nose. The sun scorched your skin and chapped your lips, tongue darting out to relieve the worst of it as you tried to be sparing with your water consumption.

The breaks were few and far between, but that was to be understood when you were voyaging through a dry, arid wasteland with an average temperature of over forty degrees celsius. You’d made the journey across the Mediterranean and Tyrrhenian Seas multiple times in your life, accustomed to the vastness of the blue rolling waters laid out as far as the eye can see. It was easy to see how civilizations believed the world was flat for millennia when there was nothing to break up the horizon.

You distinctly remembered your first crossing as a child. You’d ended up clutching onto your mother’s skirts in horror the first time you sailed away from the coast out into the English Channel. It was an unsettling trick of the eye; as if you were staring at the most beautiful painting of sky and sea… but if you got too close you’d sail straight through the canvas and off the edge of the world.

The same could almost be said of your current environment, sand seemingly endless no matter how far the camels trudged onward. The landscape was broken up only by the occasional rock formation, areas of packed earth along the flats where the brittle cracks spoke of how parched the ground was. 

There were no views to entertain the mind - just nothingness. Over nine million square kilometers of it.

The boys spoke at length the first day, the topics of conversation ranging from the recollections of their past to stories of their recent. Some of these were ones you’d already heard from your cousin that they were more than happy to revisit. The occasional argument broke out about the particulars of the events, one saying this while the other said that, the two of them squawking like ruffled geese that refused to secede territory to the other.

Kyle once looked back at you as if expecting your input to be a tiebreaker, something that genuinely made you laugh at the ridiculousness of it as you reminded him that at no point had you ever been to Cambrai nor did you understand the logistics of how to take apart and rebuild an SMLE.

So far as your own input to the discussions, you left most of that to the men to engage with you. It wasn’t as if you were being antisocial - hard to attempt with two chatterboxes for company - but you spent more time being an active listener than a willing participant. In truth, it was nice to turn your brain off for a bit and be swept away by the tales they’d spun of their times together. 

How many nights had you spent curled up in the parlor, legs tucked up under you with a glass of port in your hand while Kyle whiled away the midnight hours stirring your imagination of the many things he’d seen out there in the wide open world? His voice became a soothing balm on evenings where sleep eluded you, taking over for the comfort provided by your father after his untimely passing years prior. You would never object to a recital from him, certainly not now when it was aiding to take your mind off the harsh unimpeded sun battering down on your group.

What really surprised you was the amount you found yourself enjoying the rougher Scottish lilt of your other companion. There was a brashness in the way Johnny spoke compared to your cousin that could be borderline offensive to the ear at times, but it was oddly refreshing to hear the candidness of someone who hadn’t grown up afraid to blurt out the first thing that came to mind. And the man had charm for days that came so naturally to him you could brush off anything that left his lips with an exasperated but secretly fond sigh. 

Johnny tried numerous times to drag out your thoughts on certain matters pertaining to things you might have some knowledge or experience in, but more often than not you didn’t take the bait to start up a conversation, not even when the topics turned less ‘civilized’.

You weren’t a prude. Whilst you had no experience of your own to speak of, you were certainly educated by this point in time of the way life goes that certain subjects and suggestions didn’t rattle you the way it had in your youth upon first discovery. And swearing was a bad habit you picked up as well if the occasion called for it. 

So despite Johnny’s best attempts to shock you into giving him some sort of response he could work off of, you didn’t bat an eye at his crass language.

You ignored the way his eyes lost a bit of their luster every time you shrugged off his attempts, though he lost none of the determination to sway you otherwise. It wasn’t until Kyle took sympathy - on you or Johnny, you couldn’t say - and steered it back to other topics that Johnny relented and went back to their own merry prattle.

Part of you felt bad at your treatment towards Johnny, but there was still a small nagging in your gut that kept reminding you there was a dangerous man hiding behind that dazzling smile. 

Did you think he was going to do something untoward in the middle of the night to either you or Kyle? No. He’d proven as much the two times he’d saved you from a premature end. But it didn’t feel right to be fraternizing with someone who only a few days prior had been locked up in a Cairo prison for crimes that hadn’t even been addressed by him yet. 

Just because he was kind didn’t erase the fact that he was a felon.

Still, despite your reservations on the man, by the time you all stopped for the night and passed around rations for your supper, the animals grazing on nearby fauna as you settled down into your own spaces, you found yourself longing to get back on the camel if only for the simplicity of getting lost in his oddly enchanting brogue.

You couldn’t sleep. You’d been trying for the better part of an hour now, but at every turn the concept seemed to have eluded you. By all accounts you should’ve had a better time of it than the previous night, equipped as you were now for the next days travel through the desert; a colorful sleeping mat providing a protective layer between you and the hard rocky ground, your rolled up bag propped under your head for support, a weaved blanket warding the chill off your bones. Even the light of the smoldering campfire was helping to ease your nerves of being out in the middle of nowhere. But you were lacking the exhaustion of last night even with the added ache in your body from a full day’s ride on camelback.

You could practically feel your joints creak in protest as you sat up from your prone position, pulling your dress down over your legs as you brought your knees up to your chest to sit more comfortably. Wrapping the blanket around your shoulders, you took note of your cousin asleep on his own mat opposite the fire, flayed out on his back snoring quietly. Your other companion lounged back against his own bag, half upright with one leg sprawled out in front of him and the other knee bent. A book rested propped up on the latter, a pencil in his hand as he kept his attention on the pages in front of him. 

You watched him quietly for a few moments, lost in thought of nothing really tangible. Merely caught up in observing the way his writing instrument flowed across the paper.

“Have a curious habit fer starin’, don’tcha hen?”

It startles you out of your stupor, lifting your gaze to his face to find him still focused on whatever it is he’s working on. You made sure to keep your voice down so as not to rouse Kyle.

“I could spend my time counting the grains of sand if you’d prefer.” 

That garnered a small smirk to his face, something that warmed your insides even if he had yet to glance over at you. “If ye like. Not gonna judge a lass fer her choice in hobbies.”

“Says the man judging me for people watching.”

Johnny paused his writings as he considered your words, nodding his head in a way that suggests he knows when he’s been beaten. “Fair ‘nough.” He placed his pencil between the pages of his journal like a bookmark, closing it and setting it off to the side. It’s only then that he finally lifts his gaze to yours. Even in the shadow of the night, there’s a flame inside those eyes that has nothing to do with the one flickering in the middle of camp. “Gather yer havin’ a hard time sleepin’?”

“Legs are too sore to get comfortable,” you grumble out with a small grimace, fully aware of the throbbing on the inside of your thighs now that you were paying attention to it again. “Not used to having them spread that far apart for so long.”

It was only when Johnny suddenly and violently barked out a bout of laughter that you realized the unintended double meaning to your statement, ducking your head as your face began to heat in mortification. It also had you cringing at his volume, fully aware of the other member of your party slumbering nearby.

“Don't wake Kyle,” you scolded softly despite your embarrassment, glancing that way to make sure his sleep remained undisturbed.

“Not tae worry, hen. Man sleeps like a wee bairn if given the chance. Ye’d be surprised the things our ears are trained ta pick up on. If he needed tae be awake, only then would he be.”

He stated it so matter of factly that it gave you pause. It was weird hearing the person you grew up knowing talked about in that kind of light, one tinted with a red hue that made you ponder how much you really knew him nowadays. You’d seen the effect of war on the men who came home, deceived at first into thinking that your cousin had been spared the crippling memories when he first waltzed through your door looking as polished as always. Once the sheer joy at your cousin’s homecoming softened, it was then you realized there were shadows lurking behind those big brown eyes you’d never seen before. 

But what if what happened to him wasn't the only reason for his changes? Maybe it was more than trauma that turned the gorgeous smile into something with a subtle bite. 

Taking a look at his relaxed sleeping form, you weren't sure how many molecules were left of the boy who once yanked your pigtails, broken down and remade into something maybe not befitting this kinder world anymore.

“Sometimes I feel like a different man came home to me,” you confided softly, Johnny quiet and still as he allowed you your space to vent. “I know it’s not fair of me to have expected him to return untouched by battle when I’ve seen so many others shaken to their very core at experiences they still won’t give words to. But it’s like there’s a whisper of a thing prowling beneath his skin that occasionally slithers out to take many forms. Sometimes it’s sadness and grief swimming at the bottom of a bottle. Other times its words sharp as knives spat out and guarded behind bruised knuckles. I’ll look at my cousin and not know if I’m talking to the man I left behind or the creature that remains.”

It was a hard thing to admit out loud - this weight you carried with you. Even odder still was the fact that you were sharing your innermost thoughts with a man you’d had the scantest of conversation with prior to this. What was it about him that made words spill unbidden from your lips that you’d hardly acknowledged yourself?

“Ah’ll not try tae explain the complexities of war tae ye, hen, but when ya send a man tae greet his God there’s a sliver of yer soul that goes with ‘em.” 

You’re instantly drawn back to him as he speaks, expecting to see him burning a hole right through you with the intense truth behind his words, but finding him engrossed back in whatever project he’d taken up in his book. It’s almost like there’s something in his eyes he doesn’t want you to see, revealing it to the pages instead. You’re being spared from something that you have no clue what it is. 

“Garrick is a fierce fighter, one ah’m glad tae have mah back in any sort of danger ye can fathom. Comparatively, he’s also one o’ the most easy goin’ blokes ah’ve had the pleasure ta serve with. Has a good head on his shoulders, that one. The lad can ease even the most ruffled o’ feathers and leave ye wit’ the biggest grin tae grace yer face in ages. Ah owe him fer more than jus’ the skin off mah back.”

You knew exactly what he meant. After the death of your parents, Kyle had been instrumental in keeping all the broken pieces of your heart from fracturing even further. Curious to think the man who was currently heaping praise on your cousin was also the same man Kyle wrote home about in such high regard.

“From what I’ve gathered, you seem to have a certain gift for doing that yourself.” 

The small smirk that appeared on his face seemed to have cleared away whatever cobwebs he’d collected on his soul, eyes full of mirth as he looked to lighter subjects - and you. “Warmed up tae me now, ‘ave ye lass?”

“Didn’t need warming up when we were never chilly in the first place.”

“Not from where ah’ve been standin’.”

“That’s not true. I–” The look he gave you sunk deep into your bones and spoke volumes, having the decency to avert your gaze as he pried out the truth from your attempted denial. “You didn’t exactly make the best first impression is all…”

Glancing up at his heavy sigh, you watched him rake his fingers through the long strands of his mohawk for a few moments as he collected his thoughts into words. “Cannae fault ye fer that. Must’ve appeared like a right scoundrel tae ya. Dinnae mean tae upset ye so badly, hen. Ah’dve much rathered our first meetin’ have happened someplace more befittin’ a warmer introduction.” 

You figured it was as good a time as any to inquire as to the particulars of his incarceration, having learned nothing from your cousin about the subject when pestered. Part of you couldn’t deny being nervous as to his answer - if he would even give you one. 

You kept your voice soft as you implored him for some reason not to think the worst of him. “What happened, Johnny…? What put you in there?”

“Defendin’ a lass’s honor.” 

His unexpected response gave you pause, finding yourself sitting up a little bit straighter at the seriousness in his tone. Given his nature, you weren’t so much surprised to find a brawl landed him behind bars. It was the noble reasoning to his actions that had you reevaluating your views on the man.

“Stumbled out o’ the gin joint one night after comin’ back from a job. Happened upon a bloke overpowerin’ a poor thing on mah way out the door. Gave the fucker the privilege o’ findin’ out wha’ happens when the tables turn and yer not the one wit’ the power anymore.” He held his head up higher as he went on. “Two broken ribs, shattered patella, fractured jaw, dislocated shoulder, black eye, punctured lung, and a feedin’ tube. Copper said it was assault. I said it was re-learnin’ manners.” 

His eyes held no trace of deceit, but there was undeniable pride in himself at what he’d done. Not a single ounce of remorse shined through - just pure sated venom. He might have named himself a predator, but Johnny wasn’t a mere coyote out to stalk the wandering herd of sheep for stragglers.

He was the livestock guardian dog who came back home with a reddened maw and chunks of flesh between his teeth.

It curled something within you as you took him in, the weight of past grievances off your chest that had kept you from truly acknowledging his character. He may have been a little rougher around the edges compared to the gentlemen you normally kept company with, but how many times had those knobby knuckles been split wide on the face of a man who deserved it?

“Gonna make ye think a lil’ better of me now, lass?”

You considered him for a moment. “I think I’m finally getting a clearer picture of the man Kyle always claimed you to be.”

There was something akin to subtle relief in the look Johnny gave you, the way his shoulders minutely untensed in previous preparation for a different verdict. You didn't think your opinion of him would have mattered so much, though you supposed most people didn't want to be viewed negatively by your peers.

You didn't try to dig into a further reasoning beyond that.

“You know, he would prattle on about you all the time.” It was easier for you to stare into the fire as you spoke of your cousin’s ramblings, feeling odd recounting such things to his actual person. “He’d write me letters almost every day if he could. Said it was for my own peace of mind to let me know he was still breathing, but I think he was also reassuring himself of that notion as well. He often wanted to chat about home, a distraction from everything and a way to dodge the questions I fielded him concerning his own life. But he also spoke of his adventures out in the real world. Heard about the mischief you lot entangled yourselves in all the time.”

There was a fondness to your smile as you recalled certain tales of misbehavior, numerous as they were. “I know he must’ve sugar coated things for my benefit more often than not, but what he did share with me…” You shook your head in mild exasperation. “How the two of you survived with only a single brain cell between you I’ll never know.”

“Ah’m an upstandin’ citizen, hen.” There was a twinkle in those sapphire hues as he spread his arms wide in playful boastfulness. “Couldnae find a scrap of funny business in me if ye tried.”

The chuckle in his voice was infectious, a giggle bubbling up from your throat making its way past your lips and into your speech. “Oh really?” You challenged, “Then what say you about the incident involving the Mark IV and that bottle of Macallan?”

Johnny scoffed. “Rust bucket was highly volatile after sufferin’ heavy damage durin’ a previous skirmish. Minor malfunction in the tank’s firin’ mechanism led to a unexpected implosion.” 

“Interesting way of saying you dropped a stick of dynamite in a freshly downed bottle of single malt whisky and left it in the center console to go boom.”

He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed through that cheeky smirk. It was a good look on him. “Lad’s gotta find a way tae keep morale up in the troops, hen. What’s a harmless bit o’ merrymakin’ between comrades if it means givin’ us a well earned respite from combat?”

“And that time you and Kyle snuck into a German occupied hotel in Brussels to avoid sleeping out in that deluge?” You’d had some choice words for your cousin in that fervently written reply.

“Simple reconnaissance mission.” 

“Mmhmm.” Wow. The audacity to say that with a straight face…

“Ye know, yer not the only one familiar with the other, hen.” It was a change of subject mainly to get the heat back off of him, but it did its intended purpose as your interest was piqued. “Couldnae stop hearin’ Kyle bletherin’ on about his precious dolly back home. Made the lads jealous fer havin’ such a pretty bird, even if ye were related.”

You squirmed in your seat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear that you proceeded to twirl around your finger as a minor distraction. It made you strangely uncomfortable to hear yourself be spoken of like that - not at the fact Kyle shared things about you with the others. Moreso the way he did. “I’m afraid my cousin has probably put me on too high of a pedestal then. I’m far less interesting than he would have undoubtedly led you all to believe.”

That must not have been the response Johnny was expecting from you. There was genuine puzzlement as he glanced you up and down, almost checking to see if he was addressing the right woman. “Didnae think one such as yerself was never taught how tae take a compliment, hen. Yer much more than ye seem to realize.”

To be fair, up until now you were confident you knew how to take one as well. It was part of being out in society; knowing how to dole out false modesty at praises while simpering behind a fan as fancied lords did their best peacock impressions in an effort to win your favor. You’d never been overflowing with suitors in your youth, but you’d eagerly smiled and blushed while returning their flattering remarks. 

‘How accomplished you are at dancing, my lady.’ ‘What remarkable needlework you’ve created!’ ‘Your skin is positively radiant. What cosmetics do you use?’

This felt different though. It was easy to impress people whose whole livelihood was dedicated to the art of faking being impressed. Amongst the people who did something that actually mattered, all those years spent mastering the arts of elocution and poise were paltry in comparison. What good does perfecting a chain stitch or curtsey do in the real world?

“I was brought up to be the very model of a well bred enchanting heiress; hardly a lifestyle made for excitement or spontaneity. Of course there were my studies in Egyptology that were all self taught, but even there I'm much more a phantom floating through the halls of the Cairo museum in search of new knowledge than someone of actual importance to the place. I’ve never been one for real adventures. Ask Kyle. He was always the one dragging me out on some silly thing or another.” Much to the displeasure of your parents.

“Only ‘cause he wanted tae give ye the things ye always dreamed of but never let yerself ‘ave.”

That caught you off guard - not to mention it didn't make much sense in the first place considering how many times you’d objected to Kyle’s ventures before you predictably gave in to his fervent harassing.

Your silence gave Johnny the chance to elaborate at your quizzical expression.

“Look… yer a proper lady, hen, and there's nothing wrong wit’ embracing that part of ye. Ye should never feel ashamed of yer sex or how ye were raised fer a world much different than most. But ye would think up such grand ideas knowin’ full well ye’d never get the chance tae experience them yerself and it broke the poor lad’s heart. Ye were a willin’ participant to a way of livin’ that kept ye from actually livin’. Garrick just had the guts and half a brain tae put action ta yer silly imaginin’s, even if ye dinnae realize he was doin’ it at the time.” Johnny shifted his posture to get more comfortable, intertwining his fingers and resting them on his abdomen. “So far as ah'm aware, ye were the mastermind behind all yer youthful endeavors.”

That wasn't true. I mean, there was no denying that Kyle had taken up a massive part in a lot of your formative years, playing pretend and going along with the stories you crafted in your mind. The pair of you were thick as thieves whenever one of your families made the long trip to visit each other. It was easy to admire the way he moved through the world so effortlessly, a perfect blend of casual arrogance and easygoing confidence. He was everything a well brought up man should be, only with a mischievous streak that often got you in trouble by association. 

It was a well known fact that you were the innocent one in all his schemings.

There was that time he… 

Or maybe when…

…but what about…

Suddenly you were sat there staring blankly at your lap, mentally combing through memories of your childhood trying to justify all the times you and your cousin wandered off only to be scolded at the end for something he roped you into participating in. However, each time you peered closer at the unfolding events of the day, you were finding it harder to argue that you’d been as passive as you'd always believed.

You’d constantly been praised growing up by the adults for being a sweet, demure, amiable good girl. Kyle was the one who was the delinquent of your duo… wasn’t he?

Sensing your confusion, Johnny offered up an example to help your brain along. ”How’s about when Garrick put ye up on the handlebars o’ his bicycle and ye nearly crashed into a carriage on yer way down the hill? Wouldnae ‘ave happened if ye hadn’t opened yer mouth minutes earlier and asked how fast the bloody thing could go.”

The temptation to go over and kick your cousin awake just so he could tell Johnny otherwise was strong, but he kept talking before you had the chance to move from your bedroll. “Then there was the time ya snuck into yer da's study tae steal a cigar because ye were upset when he denied yer request tae try a puff. Said it wasnae proper for ladies ta partake.” 

You recalled that night quickly, Kyle fiddling with a small set of tools in his hand that he procured from god knows where to unlock the top drawer of your father's desk and steal one of his finest from his collection. It had ended up being a ghastly affair, choking down smoke as your cousin laughed at your inability to handle it the way he could.

You'd been fifteen at the time and hadn't touched one since. 

But that had been on a dare, hadn’t it?

You scrambled for something to latch onto as the uncomfortable truth of your once accurate beliefs stared you in the face, hidden pieces of your spirit put on display. There must be something–

The garden wall.

When your cousin conned you into climbing it with him and you scratched up your legs on the thorny rose bush at the bottom. You would’ve been four at the time to his six. Mother had been so cross as she tended to your bleeding cuts while Kyle’s father gave him a stern reprimand in the other room. That had been the first day you’d met and set the tone for the rest of your lives.

The incident that started it all.

Voice nearly teetering on hysterics, you held tight to your victory as proof of your innocence. “He was–” For a moment you forgot the subject in question was still dozing ten feet across from you, lowering your voice down to a harsh whisper. “He was the one who wanted to go over the garden wall!”

“Because ye complained the wall stole yer sunset and ye wanted it back!” His stare held no room for argument - no escape to try to back away from.

And just like that, the shimmering veil draped over your remembrance fell away as a long buried part of that day came to the surface. 

An afternoon spent outside playing in the grass, darting between trees and through rows of flowerbeds, your cousin at your heels. Your mother fussing over the dirt on your hem while your aunt placated her with a chuckled ‘let them be children’. The disappointment of the darkening sky signaling the end of your visitation.

‘But I wanna keep playing!’ You pouted with a quivering lower lip and watery eyes, not quite ready to leave your new friend and return home. ‘Stupid wall. Why’d it have to take away the sun…?’

A readied hand reaching down for yours. ‘Then let’s go get it back.’

Oh.

Johnny watched the emotions change on your face, letting you stew in them as long held perceptions suddenly gained a new clarity. It was quiet after that, the only sounds to be made were the camels' occasional gruntings in their sleep and the soft crackling of dry wood burning away in the campfire. It seemed you had a lot of things in your past to come to terms with.

“How come I don’t remember it that way?” There was a tinge of frustration at how faulty your memory apparently was, but it was more out of sadness than fury.

He shrugged, though not without a look of sympathy. “Ye were young. And Garrick didnae want ya tae feel like ye weren't bein’ a dutiful daughter. So he gave ye the push and took the fall himself. But ye cannae look me in the eye and tell me the bumps and bruises hadnae been worth it fer all the smiles it gave ya.”

You didn't quite know how to process all that; the fact that a complete stranger had more insight into your life than you who actually lived it. Your voice soft, “He told you all that?”

“Aye, he did. Feels like there's not much I dunnae already ken about ye, hen.” Johnny reached down to where he’d discarded his book from earlier, opening it up to the bookmarked page before inspecting his writing utensil with a frown, apparently finding it wanting.

You scoffed at his words even as part of you started to believe him, hard not to with the evidence he laid at your feet. But even the gesture itself was more of a soft exhale than something mean. ”I hardly think it counts when all the stories you’ve heard are just ones parroted about Kyle that I happened to be involved in.”

“There’s a field beyond Garrick’s property in Kent where he’d always find ye in the summer playin’ amongst the Meadowsweet as a wee lass. Ye liked to weave it into yer hair and pretend ye were the Lady Guinevere waitin’ fer her Lancelot.”

The look of utter surprise on your face must’ve been a sight to see, but Johnny wasn’t paying you any mind, taking a small blade from his boot to the blunted tip of his pencil as he started unravelling the particulars of your life. There was a fondness in the crinkle of his eyes as if it was a beloved memory of his own rather than one of yours. 

Why were these the kinds of stories Kyle told him about you and why did Johnny find them to be worth enough to remember them?

He continued while he sharpened. “Ye once spilled cherry juice all over yer new spring frock after sneakin’ intae the pantry fer a bite ta eat before a picnic wit’ some o’ yer parents friends. Ye were such a sensitive bairn that yer da’ had only ta look at ye wrong fer ye ta turn tae tears and beg forgiveness. Ye’ve avoided the fruit ever since, but yer a right fiend fer strawberries.”

”The Early Dynastic and their burgeonin’ household religious practices are amongst yer favorite aspects of ancient history, but ye froth at the mouth o’er anythin’ concernin’ the mysteries o’ the First Intermediate that were lost tae time and pillagin’.” 

”Yer allergic tae cats, but ye pet ‘em anyways. Got grounded fer a week after yer ma’ discovered ye’d made a shrine tae the god Bes in yer wardrobe and were prayin’ tae that every night instead. Yer decent at piano, but where ye really took a shine was in yer drawings. Seen some of the work ya tucked away in the pages of Garrick’s letters.” Johnny finally glanced up from his whittling at that mention, a glint of something in his eyes at your stunned expression. “‘Ave tae say, lass, ye can color me a might bit impressed.” 

He was starting to scare you with the knowledge he possessed, but not in a way that gave you any true fright. Quite the opposite in fact. The butterflies had never been quite so prevalent in your stomach.

“Yer inexperience twists ya tae be a bit unsure of yerself even when ye ‘ave the skills tae get by jus’ fine. It takes ye a minute, but when ye finally find yer voice Lord help the poor lad who finds himself swiftly charmed outta hearth and home. Got a dangerous pair o’ eyes and a honey sweet tongue, ye do.”

With every fact he spewed, it seemed like the entire point of this conversation for the past few minutes was to pick you apart thread by thread until you felt more bare than you had when you were sopping wet in a translucent nightgown for anyone's eyes to feast upon. 

“Ye convinced yet, hen?” The teasing glint in his eyes should’ve been outlawed.

“You sure know an awful lot about my life for someone who’s never been a part of it,” came your response, wrapping the blanket around your form tighter as if to ward off his deeper inspections into your world.

Johnny chuckled at that, pencil finally returning to paper as he went about with whatever it was prior that your presence had interrupted. “Cannae help it if talks o’ sweet lassies back home were a welcome distraction from moldy rations and the bitter chill on harsh winter nights. Blokes in the trenches fought fer the raunchy pinups back home and the honor o’ makin’ wives outta the young nurses who cared fer their wounds. But me and Garrick knew who we were fightin’ for.”

“Not even your own family?” You meant your words to be more ribbing, something to take the weight off your chest after all the focus being on you. 

But he didn’t reciprocate the tone.

“Nah, hen. Twas yer smile ah was protectin’ each time ah fired mah rifle.”

You thought he’d shocked you enough with his bluntness to last you a lifetime, but you couldn’t have been more wrong as he flipped through to the back of his book, pulling something out that had been wedged in the creases and flipping it to face towards you.

It was old and worn at the edges, smudges of dirt and water damage evident in the way it crinkled. But there was no mistaking the face staring back at you on the small grainy black and white pocket sized polaroid. 

You remembered when it was taken, the camera a recent purchase of Kyle’s on a holiday in Marsa Matrouh. You’d traveled there with your families on one of your cousin’s leaves, giving him something to help take his mind off of the horrors he’d witnessed and remember the peace he was fighting for.

You’d been out in the sun all day, basking on the rocks along the shoreline as the Mediterranean waters lapped at your heels. Your hair was still damp and stringy, coarse with salt as it shifted in the summer breeze. Kyle had been taking pictures all day, but this was the first time he’d pulled out his camera since you all went swimming, dressed in your newest swimwear all the way from New York with an exposed neckline and a mid-thigh length skirt. It had taken some adjustment on your part getting used to being so revealed, but after your mother ordered it from a magazine and you put it on for the first time you couldn’t help but feel lovely in the garment.

Kyle had caught you off guard when he snapped it, a wild carefree smile on your face as you turned to face him when he called your name. What the camera didn’t show was the ensuing chaos that took place immediately afterwards as you ran after him for having taken that without your consent, the pair of you sprinting along the shoreline in good fun until he suddenly halted to avoid stepping on a crab, causing you to run smack into him and bowling the two of you over with uncontained laughter.

You knew he’d developed the film before he left, but never what ended up happening to the snapshot. It could’ve been placed in a box in the attic for all you were aware. Who’d have thought you’d come across it almost ten years later in the ownership of someone like Johnny, tucked away in the pages of a book for safe keeping.

“That’s who ah was endeared to. The soft-hearted lass wit’ more courage than she realized.”

Intense was the only way to describe him. 

There was a weight to his stare that bordered on indecent. You were mostly covered from view by the blanket draped over your form, but it wasn’t your gown he was undressing with his eyes. 

It was your soul - cracked open and exposed to feast upon like a vulture. 

Ravenous in his hunger, there wasn’t a meaty morsel that went untouched. Johnny’s eyes were the most expressive you’d had the pleasure to get lost inside, dark cerulean orbs that swept in like a rogue wave and dragged you helplessly beneath the surface gasping for air. It was his one weakness; his one tell. You could learn everything you needed to know about him if you were only capable enough to figure it out. It was an experience unlike anything you’d ever encountered - and, gods, it was just a look.

If this revelation about the picture had come about yesterday instead, you had no doubt you would have promptly demanded he return the precious item to your charge. Now, it only did things to your insides thinking of how many times your visage might have kept him company on lonely nights.

As he tucked the picture back inside his book and flipped to his previous pages, he turned the conversation towards something related but a welcome change of subject. “Speakin’ o’ honey, exactly how did ye get me outta jail, lass? Ye never did say.”

Oh god. Of all the topics he could’ve picked. Johnny really enjoyed seeing you squirm thinking about how ‘bad’ your behavior had been lately, didn't he?

”My father owned his own shipping company that dealt with the transport of goods and wares, ancient artifacts included. Or, at least, he did… up until his passing. It’s now run by one of his old business partners, but his name is still included in the title.” Thank god for that or else your plan would’ve never worked. “I convinced the prison warden that you were a treasure hunter of world renown and that I had been sent there with my colleague on behalf of the CEO to allow your release - in exchange for a handsome sum upfront that would be paid again once you’d retrieved a very precious ceremonial headdress that was stolen from one of the shipments earlier that week.”

He cocked a brow at your explanation, the gears turning as he followed along with your simplification of the encounter. “And he jus’ believed ya? Without proof nor payment?”

The smug look you gave him felt very satisfying indeed. “I told him I’d lost the official documents stating such when my purse had been stolen by a local street rat on our way there. Even included waterworks for added discomfort.” 

In your experience, men didn’t know what to do with a crying woman. Most just wanted to shut you up or make you go away as soon as possible.

Mother would’ve been proud of your acting skills. 

You could see Johnny putting the pieces together in his mind, even if he was skeptical at the loose threads you left hanging. “How did ya manage tae get yer hands on official lookin’ documents?”

Weirdly enough, that had been the easiest part of the whole ruse once you’d gotten the language right.

“I never cleared out my father's study after he passed. All the important papers he’d kept on his desk were removed, but the drawers are still full of blank pages of letterhead - as was his personal seal he used. So long as the warden doesn’t look too closely into the present day chain of command at the company, he’ll never have any reason to suspect he’s been made a fool of.” 

That earned a barked laugh that filled you with joy, his gaze tilted back to the sky as he shook his head at the heavens. “Fuckin’ hell, lass. Yer a right clever one, ye are. Why ye might jus’ be the most dangerous one ‘ere.”

“Wait a mo’.” He interrupted his own amusement once he realized you’d left out an important part of this whole operation. “Ye didnae take the funds fer mah freedom from the company too, did ye lass?”

There was a pregnant pause where you debated about lying, but you weren’t sure you could last under his careful scrutiny. “...I may have reached into my own coffers to front up the payments.” 

Six hundred pounds sterling. Well, technically thirty six thousand Egyptian would be more accurate since that’s what was agreed upon. But he didn’t need to know just how much his pardon had cost you. Granted at the time you weren't exactly thrilled to be forking over such a large amount for a ruffian, but you’d considered the investment and decided it was well worth parting with a few coins.

Johnny could have rivaled your father with how much he masterfully emulated that reproachful countenance that only someone who’d been half responsible for your existence could have managed. You’d been on the wrong end of that look enough times to know there was a lecture coming on you’d rather not have. “Hen–”

“Sooo, Mr. MacTavish,” you smoothly interrupted with a smile of perfectly faked innocence, “when you’re not incarcerated for bashing in the skulls of brigands and ne’er do wells, what have you been up to since leaving the service?”

He held your gaze for a few moments longer, immune to your batted eyelashes until he looked away with a huffed out sigh, relenting as he must’ve come to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth the oxygen.

“Ye weren’t too far from the truth when ye told the warden ah was a treasure hunter. Sometimes ah spend mah days scroungin’ through desolate areas in search of valuable commodities, others ah sell myself out fer hire doin’ mercenary work. Not the most excitin’ occupation dependin’ on the job, but it pays good coin.”

“Hard to believe you didn’t stick around with the military.” Kyle had mentioned that by the time he’d retired that Johnny still hadn’t, but that was years ago now.

“Well ah stayed wit’ it far past mah initial recruitment contract. Only been out a wee bit longer than two years this October. Earned myself quite a bit o’ chest candy fer mah troubles.” Considering he’d joined up the same time Kyle did, that meant almost ten years fighting in His Majesty’s army. “In truth, ah didnae mind the bloodshed; ah was the best at what ah did and took pride in mah ability ta complete the missions too dangerous fer others tae endure. But when the people I was loyal tae stopped bein’ loyal ta me...”

The clench of his jaw, the ice in his veins bleeding into the blue of his eyes; you could only guess what happened to make a decorated war hero and career soldier jump ship.

Glancing down at his hand, you could see the way it white knuckled around the fragile pencil, almost anticipating a snap that you were surprised somehow never came. Even when he was blistering from whatever wrongdoings the bigwigs at the top had done to cause offense, he was still aware of and in control of his own strength.

“That’s how ah ken the city is real, lass.” He spoke up shortly after. “Because mah commandin’ officers sent me there tae die wit’ the rest of mah squadron over pipe dreams o’ golden halls and buried treasure. But when we got there… all we found was sand and blood.”

There's a stillness as the words settle in your bones, a warning of events yet to come. But thankfully it doesn't last as he blinks away the shadows of bygone times, half turning around to fiddle with the bag he’d been using to rest his back against.

“That reminds me,” Johnny perks up as he rummages around in one of the pockets of his rucksack, his previous frosty disposition left in the past and giving you a case of emotional whiplash. 

“Found this,” you barely managed to catch the small object he sent flying your way, fumbling it before securing it in your grasp, “amongst my stuff. Garrick must've pinched it for ya before jumpin’ overboard.”

Your attention turned to the thing clasped in your hold, letting out a jubilant shriek of delight that rustled your cousin but who otherwise remained at rest. Turning it over in your hands, you couldn’t believe you were somehow reunited with the ancient metal box that you were sure you’d lost to the river. You practically sobbed in relief as you hugged it to your chest as if it were a beloved stuffed animal, completely ignoring the amused (slightly judgemental) regard coming from your travel companion.

“Now Dr. Price doesn’t have to carve out my entrails and feed them to the Nile!” You cheered with bright eyes and an elated smile, making quick work stuffing the box in with your other belongings. For a moment it appeared like Johnny was wanting to question just what exactly you meant by that proclamation, but thought better of it as he returned to his scribblings, merely shaking his head with something muttered under his breath.

“Best ye try tae get back ta sleep, hen. I ken we’re not doin’ much, but the desert has a way o’ sappin’ yer energy and ye’ll be comfier noddin’ off ‘ere than on the back o’ a camel.”

That you didn’t doubt, practically feeling the crick in your neck already at the image that conjured up.

“Alright, be that way.” You rolled your eyes with a teasing huff. ”I know a dismissal when I’ve heard one...”

Johnny gave you one more glance with a quirked lip at your cheekiness, something soft around the edges hidden within his sight. “G’night, hen...”

Giving him another smile, you situated yourself back on your sleeping mat so as to be laying on your right side facing the fire. The glow wasn’t too harsh on your eyes, and truthfully it also gave you the excuse to glance over at your companion every once in a while. You knew he had one ear open while he worked, keenly aware of his surroundings as he kept guard over your small group. If the previous night was anything to go by, he’d be waking up Kyle in a few hours to take over sentinel duty so that he could get some rest as well. 

Hearing the charcoal gently scrape across the parchment as he engrossed himself in whatever his project was, your eyelids grew heavy as you allowed the ambiance of his scribblings to lull you into the pleasant hum of unconsciousness.

The next morning brought with it a change of atmosphere within the group.

Where formerly you had only actively engaged with your cousin over breakfast, that was no longer the case, giving Johnny a small tentative smile as if you were still unsure that last night's interaction had properly smoothed out the wrinkles between the pair of you. Your fears were abated when he returned it enthusiastically, tossing you a wink for good measure that had you feeling giddy at the playful gesture.

Unaware of your previous heart to heart, Kyle glanced between the two of you in befuddlement to a question that went unanswered. You merely greeted your cousin with a peck on the cheek and a lasting hug you didn’t care to explain, remembering Johnny’s words only hours ago at just how much he’d been caring for you to a degree beyond what you’d ever realized.

Falling into step with Johnny felt just as innate as it was with Kyle, years of getting to know one another condensed into a single conversation. 

Admittedly it had thrown you off to hear him speak so candidly about your history the night before. It was odd listening to him recite the stories better than you remembered them, the unfiltered truth about your personality that you’d never suspected. But you ultimately ended up not minding his thorough knowledge of your life (god knows what else your cousin told him that he didn’t mention). If your youthful recollections granted him with any small measure of escape from the dark claustrophobic trenches day in and day out then you were honored it had been your picture that had provided him with a little comforting light.

Touching was something you were still adjusting to though; the small casual hand on your lower back as Johnny scooted around you to tend to the camels. A lot of that had to do with the fact that it only made it harder to tamper down the slightly inappropriate thoughts that began to spring up as of late. It was easier to be physically attracted to a man you disliked. There wasn’t any risk of actually falling for him because you knew in the end that he was too much of a prick for there to be any real connection. A handsome face was all he’d ever be and that had been reassuring.

Which made it a bit unfair that he’d ended up being a really. great. guy. 

Did he have a bit of a temper? Sure. But so far you’d only heard of it being directed towards people who deserved it. How could you be upset that he’d put a man in the hospital for trying to hurt an innocent woman? You didn’t gravitate towards violence, but you certainly were familiar with it when your cousin would come home with a disheveled appearance and bloody knuckles. 

Looks, charisma, hard working, intelligent, dedicated. They might as well have wrapped him in a bow and placed him on your doorstep on Christmas Eve. If you would’ve had any female companions to gossip with on this pilgrimage then one John MacTavish would have been the only topic of any interest.

Still, you did your best not to pay any heed to the swirling vortex of bad decisions clouding your brain. You weren’t some cheap harlot falling at the feet of any ol’ fella who was hungry enough to rake his eyes over you. This wasn’t a tropical vacation; this was work. Dangerous, harrowing work. And Johnny was both your guide and your cousin's best friend. Not to mention you were familiar with his type from hours being paraded in front of society's elite. 

You’d attended balls and soirees full of the opposite sex all hunting for a prize to bring home and breed to carry on their legacies. A few well placed compliments and they’d be racing you down the aisle of holy matrimony. 

Johnny was certainly just another heartbreaker through and through - a game you would not let yourself be swept up in no matter how tempting the reward.

It was easier to be distracted from your thoughts once you involved yourself in the discussions taking place amongst the group, far more interested in joining in now that your reservations had been proven false. It was all easy smiles and shared laughter as you slowly began to grow endeared to the Scot the more he carried on. 

You were delighted to discover he had two younger sisters and a large extended family that he was exceptionally close with. He didn’t speak of his siblings with complaint either, only true fondness as he recounted how much he’d looked after them as the protective older brother. Johnny’s smile turned melancholic as he confessed to how much he missed them, but it softened up when he brought up the extensive collection of postcards he was constantly sending back home. He couldn’t always receive letters when his life continuously had him on the go, but with that at least he could still feel connected to his family even if they were thousands of miles away.

Johnny happily regaled you with tales of his old life back in Scotland as a ‘wee lad’. Helping out around his grandfather’s farm during the summers. His favorite home cooked meals. The local ceilidh’s with lively music and lovely lasses. An incident with law enforcement he was sworn to secrecy on for another eight years.

Each new revelation had you drawn ever more into his orbit, interested in the minute details of his life as opposed to the grand schemes he’d fall into with Kyle. They might have been mundane in comparison, but in your opinion they were vastly more important. Anyone could be an adrenaline junkie with a death wish and ambitions, but who they were in the slower quieter parts of life was more telling of their true nature. 

Of course it wasn’t all just pleasant strolls down memory lane. One can always trust that boys will be boys after all. To break up the long stretches of conversation, the pair of them took to engaging in a friendly competition to see who had the worst jokes imaginable. Apparently this had become a favored pastime back in Verdun amongst the soldiers.

 Each attempt had you burying your face in your hands. If you didn’t want to have to go back and fetch it afterwards you would be throwing things at their heads by now. 

So it came as no surprise when at some point a crude joke was told by your cousin comparing a woman to a camel. Honestly you were more shocked it had taken this long.

“How can you tell the difference between a woman’s mouth and a camel’s?” The accompanying groan was actually not from you this time.

“Come now, Garrick. No desert puns. I thought we’d agreed that–”

“Only one of them swallows.”

Two dumbstruck heads immediately whipped in your direction, faces aghast as the illusion of chasteness melted away from their preconceived notions of their female companion. The shock was short lived however as the three of you fell into the most uncontrollable fit of laughter, howling and convulsing atop your mounts.

Kyle looked like he was trying to claw the mental image your words conjured up from his brain. “Bloody hell, dolly! I didn’t need to hear that from my cousin!”

“A lady indeed!” Came Johnny's reply, both of them struggling for air as you unexpectedly proved to them there was more to you than appearances would suggest. 

You caught Johnny’s gaze as you wiped the tears from your eyes, a glimmer of approval in those sparkling sapphires that threatened to take your breath away all over again. Above all you had been rewarded with his unbridled joy and infectious laughter.

It was a sound you were quickly falling in love with. 

Partway through the day, you had the unfortunate luck of finding yourselves headed towards a massive wall of brown in the distance, towering over the landscape like a rogue wave. One glance at your guide told you everything you needed to know in the stern set of his brows and hard neutral expression.

You were delving right into the heart of it.

You weren’t a stranger to sand storms, but you couldn’t say you had the pleasure of experiencing one out in an area that had no hope of shelter in which to ride it out. Your steed must have sensed the unease that gripped your emotions, starting to shuffle underneath you in distress that had a shocked gasp leave your mouth at the abruptness of his jostling. Kyle was quick to grasp your reins, making calm soothing sounds to the animal as you ran a hand along its neck with a soft ‘settle’.

When the words were finally spoken aloud that there was indeed no avoiding it, you pulled the dark piece of cloth out of one of your travel bags that the older Bedouin woman from the village had given you in case of such an event. Your hands made deft work of wrapping it around your head, securing it in the way you’d been shown to conceal most of your face. The other two did much the same, waiting for you all to finish getting settled before glancing over with a firm nod as you ushered the beasts forward towards the imposing storm in the distance.

You’d onced asked your father as you listened to one raging outside and rattling the shutters on your home just how strong he thought the winds were, wide eyed as he explained they could move as fast as a train could ride. You felt every bit of that power now.

As much as you mentally braced yourself for the experience, the physicality of the storm was quick to erode your steeled nerves. Gale force winds whipped and battered your body, your knuckles white and painful from where you gripped the pommel of the saddle to keep from falling off your steed. The miniscule grains of sand stung the small uncovered portion of your face, abrasive and irritating to the skin as you tried your best to shield your vision. 

It was as unpleasant as you predicted, trusting your camel to follow along after Johnny’s when it became too much to keep your eyes open. The beasts were more than capable of braving it, blazing through unencumbered by the shifting sands even if only at a slightly slower pace. Your care was in their charge now.

You hadn’t put much faith in the gods of old, but in that moment you found yourself praying to Seth that he would calm his fury and let his storm pass swiftly. Not like it could hurt if you were wrong…

You jerked in your saddle as partway through a firm hand grasped at the meat of your bicep, head flying up to see your cousin peering at you through his own face coverings as he pointed off to the side, barely able to make out something in the distance that he led your camel away towards. Johnny was already dismounting from his own, crowding behind what you realized was a grouping of sandstone pillars that you’d never been more grateful to see. 

Kyle helped you off your camel, Johnny already holding up a blanket and ushering you under as they each grasped an end, throwing it over the three of you huddled together and holding tight to keep it from being swept away into the desert. You all were winded from the exertion, Kyle mumbling something about needing a bloody break as you sat squished in between them, leaned back against the rock as you untensed. There was no way of telling how long the storm lasted or how far you’d trekked, but your limbs were sore and stiff from remaining clenched throughout the endeavor. 

Thankfully Johnny had better insight than you did, motioning at the waterskin he’d fetched ahead of time that you plucked off his person. Uncapping it, you didn’t think twice before bringing the opening to his lips, watching as he tilted his head back to allow the cool liquid inside to flow down his parched throat, doing the same to Kyle shortly after. You might not have been able to help hold down the fort so to speak, but you could certainly take care of them while they protected you. 

You didn't know how long you remained like that, sharing the waterskin between you three and ignoring the mildly darkened look in Johnny’s eyes every time you accidentally made eye contact while helping him drink, leaving your stomach feeling warmed. How a man could be so intense even in a situation such as this was beyond your understanding.

Nature finally took pity on you later on in the day nearing sunset, feeling the gusts lessen enough to at last push the covering off which had become weighed down by the sand that accumulated during that time. The camels looked just as unbothered as you left them, laying down nearby as you all finally got to stand at full height for the first time in what felt like ages. 

There was brief talk about what to do next as Johnny corrected your course, having veered only slightly off the intended path. The sandstorm had caused you to be vastly behind, adding an extra day onto your travels that you couldn’t afford to waste. Thankfully - as Kyle pointed out - your transport had been able to rest for quite some time and should be able to carry on through the night in an effort to reach the city sooner. You weren’t exactly thrilled with the idea of having to sleep on the back of a camel tonight, but you weren’t going to argue over the sentiment when it made so much rational sense.

‘The life of an adventurer’, aye?

Whoever signed up for this life must’ve had a certain level of masochism ingrained in their psyche - you decided - in order to better deal with the curveballs and minor inconveniences that came from it. Food was eaten on the backs of your mounts that evening, an uncomfortable annoyance resulting in having nearly choked on your rations as the rocking motion of the camel had you swallowing wrong and sending you into a minor coughing fit. You took smaller bites after that, opting to have a little less than normal to balance out the risk of it happening again.

Sleeping was only a mildly better affair. You’d fallen asleep sitting upright in a high backed chair enough to know you’d be feeling it in the morning - especially considering there was nothing to support your figure as you bobbed along. Slipping in and out of a restless slumber, you were vaguely conscious of your surroundings; the gentle clomping of footfalls from the great beasts hauling you into the night, the even breaths of your companions, the soft whistle of wind throughout the valley.

At some point in your groggy state, you could've sworn your head ended up cradled by something firm yet comfortable underneath your cheek, the phantom sensation of thick fingers brushing over your strands relieving the tension in your bones. You went pliant under the calming ministrations, accompanied by gentle murmurings that you were unable to make out but sounded foreign to your ears.

You couldn’t tell if it was rooted in reality or simply a figment of the half dreamlike rest that overtook you at some point. All you knew was that waking up the next morning wasn’t as horrendous an ordeal as you’d anticipated, the joints in your neck much less creaky than if you’d have dozed off holding a book in your bedroom. 

The desert was still bathed in the cool tones of the blossoming morning when your cousin nudged you awake, a hand on your shoulder to steady you as you blinked your eyes open with a yawn. A small bundle of breakfast was already being placed into your hands before you could acknowledge it, along with instructions to eat up quickly as you were almost at your destination. 

That woke you up more than anything, practically shoveling the meager bits of food in your mouth much to the amusement of the others. You’d come all this way for this moment - enduring hardship and near death experiences - but it was all about to be worth it to be one of the first people to step foot into a long lost piece of ancient civilization in over three thousand years! 

What if it wasn’t everything you ever dreamed of? What if the image you’d conjured in your head didn’t live up to the expectations and grandeur promised of a city as important as Hamunaptra? Your insides were twisted, the sweat on your brow having nothing to do with the climate. Nerves were dialed up to a thousand as you busied yourself with readying for the last leg of your journey.

Come hell or high water: this was it.

It took maybe another fifteen minutes further ride west before you were led down into a wide valley, becoming more anxious with every step. You weren’t allowed the peace to smother your concerns, though, as who should appear on the opposite side of the dunes than those you had last seen on the other side of the Nile.

You finally got your first look at the man they called Graves, picking him out from the rest as someone you hadn’t noticed in the mess hall on the ferry and as the one currently leading their group. By all accounts he looked a simple man; a short neatly styled haircut, a light blue button up cuffed at the elbows, a faint scar slashed across his right cheek the only hint that he’d had a life that wasn’t quite so white collared.

“MacTavish, Garrick.” A thick Texan accent rolled off his tongue with all the charm of a rattlesnake. “Ma’am.”

You were used to fake niceties, but even this man had something slithering underneath the skin that rubbed you the wrong way.

“Seems like you folks all found your way here without any issue. Even went a little native by the looks of things.” There wasn’t anything thinly veiled in the slightest as he took in your appearance, squirming uncomfortably in your seat at the implied racism despite the company he himself kept. Then again, they were all hired hands. If ‘folk like him’ ran cheaper you were sure he’d be using them instead.

Kyle flashed him a sneer so vicious you were sure he was about to drop down off his mount and give that man one hell of a beating. It also didn’t escape your notice how Johnny brought his camel up a few paces, hiding you from view of the others with an obvious glower of contempt sent their way. You almost wished Graves would attempt something just so you could see what Johnny looked like when he was ‘re-learning manners’. 

But it seemed like neither of them thought it was worth the effort to respond to the instigated heckling. 

A large gap in the middle separated the two factions as you all lined up facing the east. Where your group had camels, they all had horses. You were briefly jealous of the fact, but realistically you had no complaints about your own steed as you reached down to give it an affection scratch on its head.

Moments passed with no movement from anyone.

“So we just gonna sit here like morons till the sun comes up or somethin’?” The question came from one of the Americans who’d played poker with Kyle back on the deck of the ferry. ‘Hutch’ if you recalled correctly. Certainly didn’t seem to have much in the way of patience, a sentiment echoed by his compatriot.

“Just settle down, pal.” Graves placated his teammate with a slightly raised hand. “I guarantee you it’s well worth the wait.” 

“Friendly reminder, gents.” It was the woman - Roze - who spoke up this time with a cocky grin. “Got a hundred bucks cash on the line. Lookin’ forward to having my pockets filled with English coin.”

Your cousin clearly hadn’t forgotten, patting his pockets in a ‘come and get it’ gesture that had the four cowboys chuckling in response.

“Get ready fer it.” Came the voice of your Scottish companion to the right, your eyes flicking between where his own were focused on the desolate landscape before you and his awaiting expression.

“For what?” you inquired.

“We’re ‘bout tae be shown the way.”

You ignored the mildly ominous undertone in Johnny’s words, turning your attention back to the view the same as the thirty or so of you gathered together.

Navy skies turned from amethyst to crimson and light sienna, the large golden sun rising up over the horizon as Ra began his day’s journey across the sky in his Mandjet Barque. Everyone on both sides sat in bated breath as it climbed ever higher, waiting for something that none of you outside your guides understood.

Scanning the flat lands to the northeast, you couldn’t possibly see how anything could be revealed when there were no shadows on the ground to hide something as large as that of a city. You had just begun to open your mouth to make some sort of comment implying the dubiousness surrounding this whole–

Wait.

…what?!

You blinked your eyes multiple times to be sure of what you were seeing, going beyond all reasonable explanation that your mind conjured up. Emerging like a ghost out in the valley, the shimmering visage of a once great realm slowly unveiled to the shock of those who bore witness. There it was - beyond all reasonable doubt. One could mistake it for a convincing mirage if it wasn’t for the way it solidified in front of you. If that wasn’t enough, you trusted your companion to have not steered you wrong. If Johnny didn’t think he was hallucinating then neither were you.

Heart pounding in your chest, blood rushing through your ears. You were positively breathless, only vaguely aware of Kyle to the left slapping at your arm in slack jawed stunned astonishment. It was comforting to know you weren’t the only one losing your mind at the moment.

All around you could hear everyone else's startled gasps, hushed voices speaking up in awe at the wonders held before their eyes. 

“There it is!” 

“I don’t believe it.”

“Well I’ll be...”

“The legends were true!”

“Hamunaptra.”

“‘Ere we go again.” The last comment came from Johnny, a weary sigh of resignation as he found himself once again in the presence of this place. 

It amazed you how much you found yourself not giving a damn about that, selfishly uncaring to his emotions right now as you were too busy trying to keep up with the influx of your own. All those times being mocked or looked down on for daring to believe in childlike wonderment that some legends were too real to be fake were finally proven wrong. There it was as plain as daylight, holding all the mysteries of the New Kingdom if you only reached out with your fingertips and touched it.

All it took was a single shout before all hell broke loose, the men’s thoughts turning from ones full of veneration to their jangling coin purses. It startled you out of your reverie. The calls and whipping noises from the fellows across the way urging their steeds forward had your own reacting instinctively, joined by Johnny and Kyle as you found yourselves racing across the vast stretch of desert - you to claim the site first, the men to win their wager.

The speed of the animal surprised you, having grown up seeing the creatures lumbering through the city hauling goods and occasionally people. But Cairo was full of tight corners and bustling streets. This was the Sahara - wide open and free from any obstacles that could keep it from achieving its full potential. Plenty of room for a camel to catch its stride.

You’d never endured a bumpier ride. 

What confused you the most was the fact that your own mount was apparently a cut above the rest, keeping pace with Johnny and Kyle as well as a small handful of horses on the other team. It breezed across the compacted sand, drawing whoops and hollers as you urged it forward. You’d put a horse at full gallop before, but this had an air of exhilaration that could only come with the heart racing promise of awaiting adventure.

Slowly but surely the others fell back from their positions until Grave’s was the only one of the rival group remaining as competition. It was clear his horse was quickly wearing out despite how brutally he whipped the creature's hide. Once he came to the same realization you did, he did the only thing a weak man knew how to do: resorting to cheap tricks.

You startled as suddenly he turned his beating cane on your own beast, making you lurch forward as the camel groaned in pain and tripped over its own legs. 

“Nothin’ personal, sweetheart!” He bellowed over at you as he took another swipe.

Unfortunately for him, both Johnny and Kyle were not about to allow his actions to go unpunished.

They took the opportunity when you steered your camel away in an effort to escape the beatings, coming up alongside his horse and boxing him in. Johnny grappled the reins from Graves’ hold, Kyle wrapping his blue neckerchief around Grave’s throat as he tried to fight off their combined hostilities. The pair shared a look as they both tugged on their objectives at the same time, Johnny yanking the horse right out from under him as Kyle choked him off the saddle, sacrificing his own place as he let you and Johnny speed off in his stead.

You dared a glance over at Johnny, the most wicked grin of devilish intentions on his face as he mirrored your excitement with his own, dropping the horse's reins and calling for more speed from his own animal. But you weren’t about to let him beat you that easily, not when you had every confidence in your own ability as a rider! 

It was just the two of you now - neck and neck battling it out for bragging rights. It didn’t matter at this point who won; you’d all come out victorious in the wager either way. This was just two individuals pushing each other to the limit, hearts pounding from more than just the thrill of the race as you both had trouble peeling your eyes away from the other. 

The wind in your hair; the untamed wilderness consuming your spirit. This was what you’d been missing in your life - this thing that a dangerous man like Johnny could offer you.

You weren’t prepared as he reached across the space between and landed a heavy handed slap right to the back of your mount, the beast crying out as it surged forward at an unprecedented pace. You could only hold on tight, shrieking in a mixture of surprise and elation, hearing your cousin in the distance cheering you on as you approached the looming structure.

There were no words as you made it to your destination, coasting past the massive stone obelisks at the mouth of the entrance with the biggest smile, galloping down the thoroughfare and between the crumbled ruined gates of the city.

Finally, had you arrived. The lost sacred City of the Dead.

Hamunaptra.

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

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[verycleverboy]

Almost thirty-four years after Donald Trump took out a full-page ad in New York newspapers calling for the return of the death penalty in the wake of the case of a group of young African-American men branded the “Central Park Five”, and a few days after Trump was charged with thirty-four felony counts, one of the now-Exonerated Five took out a full-page ad of his own. The full text follows:

BRING BACK JUSTICE & FAIRNESS. BUILD A BRIGHTER FUTURE FOR HARLEM!

On May 1, 1989, almost thirty-four years ago, Donald J. Trump spent $85,000 to take out full-page ads in The New York Times, New York Daily News, New York Post and New York Newsday, calling for the execution of the Central Park Five — an act he has never apologized for, even after someone else confessed to and was convicted of the crime, the convictions of all five of us were overturned, and we were renamed the Exonerated Five.

Instead, Mr. Trump has often doubled-down. A few weeks after taking out the ad, he went on CNN and stated: "I hate these people and let's all hate these people because maybe hate is that we need if we're gonna get something done."

Even after our exoneration and acknowledgment by the government that we had been wrongfully convicted, Mr. Trump continued to incite animus against me, my peers and our families. In 2013 — over a decade after our exoneration — Trump called the Ken and Sarah Burns Central Park Five documentary "a one-sided piece of garbage," and when asked how he felt now that we were shown to be innocent, responded: "Innocent of what?"

In 2014, the City of New York finally reached a settlement with the members of the Exonerated Five, awarding at compensation to help us rebuild our lives after so many years were taken from us. But even that acknowledgement from the city wasn't enough for Trump to see five young Black and Latino men as anything other than criminals, saying "settling doesn't mean innocence."

Note, after several decades and an unfortunate and disastrous presidency, we all know exactly who Donald J. Trump is — a man who seeks to deny justice and fairness for others, while claiming only innocence for himself.

Being wrongfully convicted as a teenager was an experience that changed my life drastically. Yet I am honored when people express how deeply they connect with my story.

It matters because, while my experience may have been extreme, I have lived through a form of trauma that many of us experience in some way every day throughout our country. My past is an example of systemic oppression imposed by the injustice system.

But the problems our community faced when my name was splashed across the newspapers a generation ago — inadequate housing, underfunded schools, public safety concerns, and a lack of good jobs — became worse during Donald Trump's time in office.

I am trying to change that, by working with so many other dedicated community members to build a better future for everyone, both here in Harlem and across the country.

Here is my message to you, Mr. Trump: In response to the multiple federal and state criminal investigations that you are facing, you responded by warning of "potential death and destruction," and by posting a photograph of yourself with a baseball bat, next to a photo of Manhattan DA Alvin Bragg. These actions, just like your actions leading up to the January 6 insurrection at the U .S. Capitol, are an attack on our safety.

Thirty-four years ago, your full-page ad stated, in all caps: "CIVIL LIBERTIES END WHEN AN ATTACK ON OUR SAFETY BEGINS."

You were wrong then, and you are wrong now. The civil liberties of all Americans are grounded in the U.S. Constitution, and many of us fight every day to uphold those rights, even in the face of those like you who seek to obliterate them.

Now that you have been indicted and are facing criminal charges, I do not resort to hatred, bias or racism — as you once did.

Even though thirty-four years ago you effectively called for my death and the death of four other innocent children, I wish you no harm.

Rather, I at putting my faith in the judicial system to seek out the truth. I hope that you exercise your civil liberties to the fullest, and that you get what the Exonerated 5 did not get — a presumption of innocence, and a fair trial.

And if the charges are proven and you are found guilty, I hope that you endure whatever penalties are imposed with the same strength and dignity that the Exonerated Five showed as we served our punishment for a crime we did not commit.

--Yusef A. Salaam

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for ignoring a childhood friend?

This happened a while ago, but I still think about it pretty often.

I used to have a friend, let’s call her Ally. Ally and I shared one thing in common — we were the weird kids. We used to sit at a lunch table by ourselves and bitch about how mean the popular kids were. A little cringey, but hey, we were in middle school, what are you gonna do?

Our friendship suddenly cut off because, after she asked why she had such a hard time making friends, I suggested, “Well, you are kind of sensitive.” This caused a massive rift between us. This would be fine, since I had already made some better (though only slightly) friends. But she somehow convinced the staff that we were actively fighting, which we weren’t. I was mostly just avoiding her. This meant, a couple of times, I was called out of class just so that we could sit in the counselor’s office to “make up”. She also believed, even when we got older, that I should “protect” her from her bullies, even though 1) I never saw her get bullied, and 2) that shouldn’t necessarily be my responsibility, especially after we weren’t friends anymore.

But that was in middle school. People change. And she did, sort of. We obviously grew apart, and because of that, I thought she matured, since I wasn’t around her as much. We started becoming more friendly in high school. My friend group even included her during lunch, and she seemed to move past her petty stage.

Without going into too much detail, another classmate called someone in my friend group and said she was going to really hurt herself. When my friend called 911, this classmate was furious when she got sent to the hospital. Ally was friends with her, so this caused some high school drama. Ally took the classmate’s side, because she believed because of their mental illness and her attempt, that it didn’t matter how my other friend felt.

Ally only got more and more immature from there. Slamming her books together and stomping out the door during an argument at lunch, rolling her eyes and making a face every time she walked past me in the hallway, and generally being nasty to me and my friends. Luckily, I didn’t get the brunt of it, but my other friends sure did.

We tried going to the office about it, but they said because of her disability, they didn’t want to get involved, and suggested we just “ignore it”. So we did. And, eventually, everything blew over, as high school drama does. Even if it drains everyone of every last bit of energy we have before it does.

The next year, she starts trying to rebuild our relationship, which I don’t want to do. She starts constantly texting me (I don’t know why I didn’t just block her number), asking me why we can’t be friends again. She gets me Christmas gifts, then uses them against me during an argument. I keep telling her why over and over, how awful she acted a year before, how you can’t force people to be your friend, how her personality and constantly playing the victim made her difficult to be around. She kept making a face in the hallway, talked about me behind my back (or so I heard), and yet she wanted to kiss and make up.

Junior year, things went quiet again. We didn’t like each other, but we were civil. I had stopped responding to her texts, and she had stopped pestering me. She was gone for a while due to a surgery, and I didn’t see her again after that.

Then, suddenly, COVID happened.

Over online learning, I got a few texts from her about my desk set-up, like what kind of plant I had next to me, what was my stuffed animal’s name, stuff like that. I decided to be nice, and responded, but ignored every subsequent response, and she didn’t try again.

I didn’t hear from her again until my freshman year of college (I’m a junior now). From a new number, she asked me how I was, what I was doing, normal fare. Instead of responding normally, I sent her a response in Japanese, since I was learning it at the time. I pretended this was a new number, and that I had no idea who she was talking about. She bought it, and I blocked the number.

I know that she could have changed, and maybe she was trying to reach out. But, considering how awful she was, and the kind of people she surrounded herself with, I don’t know if she could ever change enough to make up for how she’s acted.

Should I have given her a chance? I can’t now, of course, but maybe I could make an effort to find her if you think I should?

What are these acronyms?

[leafydinosaur]

thomas vs teresa

i will never EVER understand why people side with teresa. "but her mom died-" yeah and like everyone else on earth during that time. every single person during the flare lost someone so idk why people feel bad for her (also before people say anything about her before wicked and her true story and stuff, i read all the books including fever code and kill order so i know everything about her story, thanks.) yeah okay her story is sad but that doesn't mean she's necessarily good. i understand that she's trying to do the "right" thing, and i respect that, but she's literally stupid. wicked's operation is stupid. anyone with more than two brain cells can understand that. instead of spending like a billion dollars on trying to find a cure, wicked should focus on protecting the immune kids instead of torturing and killing them. firstly, wicked found a cure like 15 years too late. basically everyone was dead by then. but let's say that wicked found a cure in the few months of the flare. how would it be transmitted? the flare was artificially made, transmitted by bullets. there would not be enough of the cure for all of the infected. the cure cannot be artificially created (this is stated in scorch trials book and movie) thomas is the only person who can make the cure, but his body cannot produce blood fast enough for everyone on the planet. by this time, wicked should've already realized that finding a cure was a lost cause and should try to save as many immune people as possible. instead of building a multi-million dollar death maze, they should've started creating a safe haven (like the one in the end of death cure.) fortunately, ava paige and jansen aren't complete boneheads, but they built the last city in a very very bad location. you could assume that with the modern technology that wicked has (considering the fact that they literally created teleportation) they would be able to start a new civilization on mars or something. but let's say they couldn't. instead of having the location of the last city public, it should've been built on an island, in the middle of absolutely nowhere. (to prevent angry raiders that aren't immune or newly infected to raiding it or something. kinda like in death cure how they infiltrated the city and everything went to crap.) this would be a temporary location. wicked could send out an army to clear out, for example, iceland or another small country and slowly build their way up to bigger countries. they could build more and more bases and soon enough people would reproduce. the stronger wicked gets, the more cranks they'll be able to clear out with bigger armies. within 10 to 15 years, the world would be mostly clean and wicked would be able to slowly rebuild humanity. there you go. i just solved all of wicked's problems (your welcome ava and jansen, you could repay me with newt's number iykwim.) anyways, this is why i think wicked is stupid and why i don't support teresa (because she supports wicked and also she's the reason why a bunch of people died in the right arm and got newt killed so...) people are allowed to support and like whatever character but in MY opinion, teresa is really stupid or really selfish to sacrifice an entire group of people AND betray her friends to create a cure that will do absolutely nothing.

[therese-lokidottir]

Personally, I think Thor is held back back his continuous lack of any real character arc, and that started back in Ragnarok. There's no growth or change in Thor in that movie, he just gets lighting powers in the end. IW and EG had all of the opportunity to make something of Thor but they squandered it by making Thor's grief a joke. They pull in for like 30 seconds to show that he's sad but then they immediately pull out and make another fat.

Thor has lost everything, his home, his friends, and his family. His civilization is a fraction of what it was the glorious title of King of Asgard is practically meaningless on earth. Even the victory Thor got at the end of TR is worthless. It didn't help Thor protect anyone and he can't use it to rebuild what loss. All that is ripe for a fascinating story about Thor's character. But the narrative doesn't even try. Thor basically just told; Ehh just pick yourself up. That's it that's all Thor gets. 

Love and Thunder also had a chance to expand Thor's arc and even the sentiment that Frigga tried to convey to Thor. But it never even tries, thor ends the movie where he started. Just wandering around just fighting whatever battle he can find, except this time he's putting a child on the battlefield. But the opening showed that Thor got no fulfillment or purpose from doing that and was also pretty reckless and thoughtless about it as well. 

It doesn't come off as a truly happy ending. It comes off as more troubling, and that Thor going to fall into a depressive cycle. The better ending would have been staying in New Asgard and raising Love there, so she could have normalcy and friends. Thor would be ready to fight when needed, but he would find a new purpose be a part of a new family, and step away from the path of a warrior. Becoming the father who cares and lives for his child instead of the one who tries to groom his children for warlike Odin and Bor. Break the damaging cycle that his family created.

Thor should talk about the people he lost, he should talk about Loki. Stop trying to avoid his name like it is a curse. If Thor is grieving then he should care about what he lost. Thor did kind of define himself by who he was in the eyes of other people and with everyone gone now he lost. Talk about Loki, have Thor want him back, and have Thor reflect on his past and what it meant. It is frustrating to have so much opportunity and then have writers do nothing with it. 

At this point maybe it would be for the best if Thor took a backseat and let someone else take the mantle and just have Thor retire. 

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

I request infection au stuff

People turn into literal analog horror creatures within a week. There is no known cure yet.

It affects all humans and monsters, including the skeletons.

Nowhere is safe. These things are everywhere. They are not sane and will actively hunt others.

Killing them is the only way to stop them. This is hard to do, as they regenerate unless their souls themselves are destroyed.

They can't go back home, there are too many infected there due to the boss monsters being the first ones that were infected.

The few of their friends they have found were already infected. All others are missing.

Their brother has gone missing. They have found confirmation that he is alive. They do not know if their brother has been infected yet.

Undertale Sans - He's not sure how he's still going. Maybe the hope to see his brother again. He built himself a little shelf in the mountains and he tries to use his sci-fi knowledge to survive, one day after the other. He knows he's hard to reach, so he's not too worried about the infected one, but at the same time, he's scared no one will find him and he will stay all alone his whole life. For now, he tries to stay positive, even though it's not easy.

Undertale Papyrus - He's on the road with Undyne and Alphys. They're good at protecting each other. Well, they were good until Alphys got infected, and it's clear she's doing worse and worse, but that's fine, they still have some time. Undyne is not ready to let go yet and Papyrus respects that as long as Undyne respects him not sleeping at night because he's scared Alphys might attack and infect Undyne and he just can't lose her. He doesn't know if he's selfish, but he's not sure what he would do all alone. At this point, he's pretty sure his brother didn't survive, so Undyne is the last one he can rely on to keep some hope. He's optimistic things will be better eventually. Or maybe he's lying to himself. Either way, he's not giving up now.

Underswap Sans - He used his leadership skills to build a small community of monsters and humans he's protecting. He's good at that, thanks to his experience as a police officer. He terribly misses his family and friends. Even though he made new friends along the way, it will never be the same. He tries not to think about his brother, it hurts too much. In an ideal world, he would be alive, but he knows Honey is not exactly a survivor. Just imagining him like those creatures is making him sick. He focuses on protecting his people, hoping they can maybe rebuild some kind of civilization eventually.

Underswap Papyrus - He never thought watching so many zombie films would save his life someday. Sure, he lost his brother, and everyone really, but he still has Asgore. They're living together in his house, which they upgraded as time passed to avoid horrible creatures to intrude. And so far it's working! They even grow some vegetables. He could never be thankful enough to find himself locked with someone who knows how to grow vegetables from literally scratch. They're keeping company with each other and trying to stay optimistic, even though some days are more difficult than others.

Underfell Sans - He's back to his old habits, trying to survive the best he can. He's glad he grew up weak in a shitty Underground. It's almost the same. Well, except he has to take care of Frisk and he never realized how hard it is to be a dad. The kid is scaring the hell out of him, randomly disappearing from time to time and he swears he can't continue like this. But at least he's not alone. He would do terribly on his own. Keeping Frisk alive is kinda the only thing that keeps him going. He promised Toriel he would watch over them, he's not giving her up. Plus it's fun to teach them new things!

Underfell Papyrus - He's living with Undyne in a small house they upgraded to resist the apocalypse. And Doomfanger. Living with Undyne is hard, not because of the apocalypse, but because they can't agree on anything and constantly bicker. They keep saying they will kill the other eventually, but the truth is that both of them are ready to die if it means the other will survive. They're not too worried though. Both of them are good fighters, and they want to survive until things get better. They know they can do it!

Horrortale Sans - He adopted a wolf-like style, living in the forest and hunting what he could find, animals or humans. He's fine on his own, back to a feral state, and it's best to not crossways with him. He's very dangerous. He stopped counting the scars, he's just survival instincts now. He'll be fine. He keeps searching for his brother.

Horrortale Papyrus - He's with Toriel and Grillby, on his farm. He refused to leave. The three of them already survived together, it's simply like the Underground, except there are more chances to find food. Since his farm is already producing vegetables and fruits, they're fine, and almost living normally, except they had to build barriers all around the farm to protect themselves. Willow still hopes Oak will come home someday, but he knows he's alive. The rare survivors that come and go all warned him about a weird monster roaming in the woods, hunting them. He knows it's Oak. He's not too worried. It's not the first time Oak ends in this state, but at least in this feral state, he's almost unbeatable. He's confident they will see each other again.

Swapfell Sans - He's terribly upset. Because the Queen forced him to follow her and separated him from his brother when it was the last thing he wanted to do. Then the Queen got infected and killed all of his soldiers, leaving him the only survivor and the one who has to deal with the consequences. Even if he's finally free, Nox can't celebrate. He's terrified his brother thought he gave up on him AGAIN and that he simply gave up somewhere, or got killed, or infected or... Nox is on his own on the road, desperately tracking his brother. He knows he's alive, or was alive a week ago. He just needs to find him. He refuses to give up.

Swapfell Papyrus - He's not doing well. He's not a survivor, he never was, and each day is a new hell. He's on the road, trying to flee the horrible creatures that are following him, and he can't rest anymore. He doesn't know where is his brother. He waited for him for as long as he could and just accepted he was probably dead, until a human told him they met a skeleton a few days ago. Rus still hopes his brother will find him before he gets infected. He's not sure how long he can still hold on. He's tired.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He has no limits since he lost his brother. He feels guilty he wasn't there when their camp got attacked and now his brother is probably dead. He's on a killing rampage. If someone ends on his way, they die. He doesn't trust anyone anymore and he's going to make the whole world pay for the loss of his brother. That is until he spotted some hints that Coffee might actually be alive, and focused only on this. He will find his brother.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He had to flee when some creatures ambushed him while he was waiting for his brother, and since then, his existence has been a nightmare. Coffee is starving, dehydrated and he didn't sleep for days. Maybe it's luck or destiny, but some random children saved him from agony. He's following them around now, hoping they can make it until Wine finds them. He knows Wine is coming. Wine can't die, he's the strongest monster he knows. He just has to be patient.